just lovers (like we were supposed to be)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/38344720.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/F, M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Regulus Black/James Potter, Minor or Background Relationship(s),
Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Mary
Macdonald/Lily Evans Potter
Characters: James Potter, Regulus Black, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter
Pettigrew, Dorcas Meadowes, Evan Rosier, Bartemius Crouch Jr.,
Marlene McKinnon, Mary Macdonald, Lily Evans Potter, someone get
this girl her own name tag, like she wasnt someone before she married
james???, okay misogyny, correction: - Character, Lily Evans
Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, set in
Hogwarts, Voldy simply doesn't exist because I said so, a bunch of queer
witches and wizards in the 70s, thats the main theme of this fic, the
exploration of sexuality, boys being stupid, bear with them they are
trying, the marauders being good friends, regulus having good slytherin
friends, love in the face of controversy, Lily is living her best life, as she
should, queer clubs in Hogwarts because I say so, jealousy jealousy,
Pining, personal growth because they are young and learning, a healthy
brother relationship between Sirius and Regulus, Remus is Tired and
Horny, regulus is a little shit, James is just doing his best, people being
concerned about Regulus!!! people caring about Regulus!!!, the queer
agenda, Some kissing, Flirting, Hogsmeade date!, Some Mild Angst,
fake breakup???, not fake heartbreak tho, anyways james and regulus
fake date and this Changes Everything, Do Not Re-upload or Repost
Anywhere
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of just lovers manifesto
Stats: Published: 2022-04-13 Completed: 2022-06-05 Words: 321,090
Chapters: 24/24
 just lovers (like we were supposed to be)
by bizarrestars

Summary

Regulus closes his eyes and shakes his head again, looking pained, then he opens them and
sighs. "And your solution to this is me? Pretending to be my boyfriend?"

"Yeah. It's actually bloody brilliant, if you think about it. Everyone will leave happy. I'm
going to fake date my way into falling in love," James announces grandly, sticking his hand
out and waving it through the air like he's presenting a banner.

***

Or, the one in which James Potter wants to prove he'd be a good boyfriend to Lily Evans and
comes up with the brilliant plan to fake date Regulus Black his way into falling in love. It
doesn't quite go as anyone expects.

Task failed...successfully?

Notes

okay, okay, so.

this idea was something i came up with on twt and have been writing for a bit. a couple of
things:

one, these characters are teenagers, so they will talk about shagging and stuff, but there will
be nothing explicit because im uncomfy writing it when they're teenagers.

two, voldemort is simply Not A Thing in this fic. the war? nonexistent. death eaters? not a
thing either. i just didn't feel like writing it into this one. it's still set in the wizarding world,
so some things are similar/referenced, but that's it.

a big theme of this fic is the exploration of being queer, learning to accept it and normalizing
it. i don't want to hear that it's unrealistic for people to be queer, or for people to be accepting
of queer people, because this is set in the 70s. queer people have always existed, and i simply
won't argue about that.

that being said, it's mildly explored how being queer publicly can affect someone at this time
period (and still today), but im not writing slurs or hate crimes because i simply do not want
 to. this is a fictional world where they wave sticks around. if i decide they can form a queer
club, who's to stop me?

anyways, this is mostly just cute and funny, and im enjoying writing it. they're all dumb, but
in the way that you cant help but love them. <3

EDIT: [please do not post my works on any other platform, or any other format. do not create
typesets for people to download and use to bookbind through profit means; do not put my
works anywhere near websites such as amazon, lulu, or etsy; do not put my works on
goodreads or wattpad. any and all pre-existing translations/podfics are only acceptable on ao3
with proper credits, and im asking now that there aren't more made in the future]

See the end of the work for more notes

 ACT ONE: Part One

When James Potter was eleven years old—about three quarters of the way through his first
year at Hogwarts—he came to the simple and unshakable conclusion that he was, and would
always be, in love with Lily Evans. Most eleven year old boys were disgusted by the idea of
fancying girls, but most eleven year old boys didn't have Euphemia and Fleamont Potter for
parents, which meant they didn't grow up idolizing the greatest love story known and
unknown to man.

Because he was eleven years old, this conclusion meant that James knew with equally simple
and unshakable faith that he and Lily would end up together. He had planned their wedding
out from start to finish in grand detail by the time he was twelve. He was, of course,
courteous enough to share this with Lily, who did not at all appreciate it, but that was alright,
because James knew she'd change her mind one day.

Things are starting to get a little dicey in his seventh year, though. It's their last year, he's
nearly eighteen years old, and while he and Lily have come far from her despising him to her
liking him, she still has no interest in him whatsoever.

It's not as if he hasn't tried absolutely everything. He's exhausted literally every option. He
tried impressing her (Peter's advice), only to make an arse of himself more often than not. He
tried pretending she didn't exist (Sirius' advice), but she seemed more grateful than anything.
He tried just getting to know her and be her friend first (Remus' advice), but that just made
them friendly and has gotten them essentially nowhere in the romance department.

He's back to the drawing board, so to speak.

"You know what it is?" Peter asks thoughtfully, sprawled sideways on his bed with his head
hanging upside down off the edge. He's been doing this since first year, because he swears it
helps him think.

"No, Pete, that's the problem," James complains.

Peter squints, then says, rather decisively, "She's just not into you, mate."
"Yes, I know that," James grumbles, "but my point is that she could be! She would if—if—"

"If?" Sirius prompts from Remus' bed, because he always sprawls in it the evening after a
full. He has been for years now, consistently, because he thinks it's an injustice that Remus
would ever come back from the Hospital Wing and slide into a cold bed. Sirius 'keeps it
warm' for him.

"If…" James wracks his brain, looking for a proper reason, but it's particularly hard to do
when he's tried so many things already. He has to, though, doesn't he? He's in love, and you
don't give up on love. "If I could just show her that I'm not the prat she thinks I am, you
know, maybe…"

"I thought you already did that," Peter points out.

James groans and flops back on his bed. "Oh, I have done that, haven't I? And—and it's good,
you know. I'm so happy to be friends with her now. I love it. I just—I just think I'm capable
of more, too. Don't you think that?"

"Sure, Prongs," Sirius says, chuckling.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," James murmurs, eyebrows furrowed. "I'd be a brilliant
boyfriend. I feel like if she knew that, maybe she'd want me."

"Hm." Peter scrunches up his face, deep in thought, and James peers at him hopefully,
propped up on his elbows. "Well, you may have a point. It's not like she'd know unless she
knew…"

"Yes, exactly! Thank you, Wormtail," James hisses in delight.

Sirius snorts. "Well, that's your own fault, isn't it? You've never been anyone's boyfriend, so
how is she to know what she's even missing?"

"Bang on as always, Sirius," Peter praises, and Sirius winks as he tips an imaginary hat at
him.

James purses his lips. "Right, yes, but I don't know how to fix this issue. Merlin, I don't even
know where to start."

"Just date someone," Sirius suggests, shrugging.

"What? No," James denies instantly, frowning. "I can't do that. I'd be doing it under false
pretenses, Sirius. I don't want to hurt anyone, or lead anyone on. I wouldn't even be worthy of
Lily if I did, and I'd feel bad about it."

Peter clicks his tongue. "That's true."

"However," James announces after about eight minutes of solid silence, shooting up in his
bed, "I could pretend to date someone! I could—oh, oh, I could ask someone to let me be
their pretend boyfriend!"

"Don't know many girls who will go for that, mate," Peter says wearily, shaking his head a
little frantically.

James side-eyes Sirius very carefully and slowly, as casually as he can, muses, "Well, there's
always...blokes."

"Oh?" Sirius breaks out into a grin immediately and lays his hand against his chest. "Why,
James, if you want to be my pretend boyfriend, I will absolutely—"
"No!" James blurts out quickly, inwardly bemoaning the fact that Sirius misinterpreted that so
badly. Missing the bloody point, and at this point, James doesn't know how many more hints
he can drop. Also, if he took Sirius at his offer, Remus would kill him. James doesn't have a
death wish, thank you very much. "No, Padfoot, that's not—I mean, thank you, but I just
meant… You know, blokes are an option. Just...putting that out there. That blokes are
options. For other blokes."

"Do you even...fancy blokes?" Peter asks cautiously.

"Well, I hardly need to fancy someone I'm fake-dating, now do I?" James replies, shrugging.
"Actually, it's better if I don't, and even better if they don't fancy me. No one gets hurt that
way, right? But I mean more as a general statement that boys can fancy boys. Because they
can. Sometimes they even do, did you know that, Sirius?"

"Yeah, suppose I'd have to know that, wouldn't I? I mean, everything with Regulus…" Sirius
trails off, and there's a slightly uncomfortable silence that treads on the moment.

Everything with Regulus is a truly severe understatement for that whole...situation. The one
in which, after Sirius ran off to the Potters in his fifth year, Regulus turned around and did the
same thing at the end of his own, though he didn't exactly have much of a choice. Sirius had
run away from his family because he didn't want to meet their expectations of the perfect,
pureblood heir—particularly 'marrying someone I'm likely related to and continuing on this
cursed bloodline', as Sirius had not-so-delicately put it. Regulus, on the other hand, had been
essentially kicked out.

Apparently, he'd been hesitant about the idea of marrying as well, and in an endeavor to not
have a repeat of Sirius with Regulus, Walburga had slipped him veritaserum to get to the
heart of the issue. This backfired spectacularly when, drugged to tell the truth, Regulus had
declared that he was quite gay.

This went over very badly, and halfway into the summer, Regulus had ended up turning to the
only person he suspected he had left. Despite their many issues, Sirius had immediately
accepted him without hesitation and slapped down the rather simple ultimatum to Effie and
Monty that they either let Regulus stay, or he'd leave with him. Of course, Effie and Monty
were more than willing to take him in.
This didn't change very much for James. He barely even caught glimpses of Regulus over the
summer. Only Sirius would go into his room, and Regulus hardly ever came out of it. When
he did, he was usually found in the library, or helping Monty with potions. Regulus didn't
even notice that James existed, which was—fine. James was fine with it. He is fine with it.
Because Regulus and Sirius have bonded, and it seems to have done them both some good, so
James hardly needs to be a part of that. But Merlin was he tempted. He had to hold himself
back repeatedly from just crashing his way into whatever they were doing, or talking about.

He can't help it. He's a curious person, alright? Sirius was rather tight-lipped about it, but
from what James has gathered, they've done a lot of talking about what backlash Regulus is
going to recieve for the rest of his life because of this. Because of course it's not a secret
anymore. Everyone knows. The whole bloody school knows Regulus Black is gay. Or they
heavily suspect, which is just as bad.

Sirius punched someone on the train for being a prick about it, so he got a detention before he
ever made it to Hogwarts, which he'd mostly found amusing once he'd calmed down. How it's
going for Regulus… Well, James doesn't know, really. Regulus came back to school and just
—carried on, apparently, as if nothing ever changed. Mostly, it's just Sirius leaning into his
'protective big brother' role that makes this entire thing an uncomfortable reminder. One
wrong word about Regulus, and he hits the roof. It's sort of sweet, actually.

"Oh, I've located another problem," Peter announces abruptly, breaking the tension by
changing the subject, because he's sodding brilliant when he has his head tipped upside
down.

"What's that?" James asks with a sigh, because of course there's another problem. Isn't there
always?

"Just—why would she care?" Peter asks. "Lily, I mean. She's not going to pay attention
unless you're basically shoving it in her face, and then that would annoy her, so she wouldn't
care to see you being a good boyfriend anyway."

Sirius raises his eyebrows. "Ooh, that is a good point."

"Piss off," James whines to the top of his canopy, tilting his head back and tossing his arms
up, curling his fingers like he's strangling some invisible entity. "Please just give me a break.
Give me something. Anything."

They all fall into contemplative silence, waiting for some sort of gift from the universe, but
nothing comes. Instead, they're all interrupted by the door opening as Remus comes
stumbling inside, thoroughly disheveled and still a bit worn out from last night. Moony was
particularly peeved off, especially with Padfoot, which James secretly suspects is just built up
frustration of the sexual variety, as well as the normal sort, so it usually translates into a bad
moon. Sirius and Remus have been snapping at each other a lot lately. It's stressing James
out, honestly. If they'd just shag—

"Remus," Sirius greets warmly, immediately standing from his bed because he always has the
urge to stand whenever Remus enters a room. Sirius told James that once in fourth year. Of
course, James didn't know what it meant back then, but now he does, and it's sort of pathetic.
Merlin, Sirius has been smitten for ages. "I thought you'd never be free of the Hospital Wing.
I was debating coming to save you like a princess out of a tower, mate."

"Does that make Madame Pomfrey the dragon?" Remus asks as he shuffles over to his bed,
lips twitching.

Sirius grins at him. "Oh, absolutely."

James wants to bang his head against a wall. He wants to take Sirius by the shoulders and
shake him and shout if you're saving the princess, that makes you the prince, idiot! He wants
to knock their heads together for their mutual stupidity about each other, because they do this
all the time. They fight and go into a strop, bickering and quarreling like an old married
couple, and then they pretend it never even happened the next day.

Remus, at least, is very aware of his feelings. Has been since the previous year, as far as
James knows. That's when he told James, at least, confessing it like it was his greatest sin.
James had promised Remus he wouldn't tell (which is a tall order, because it's Sirius he's not
telling), and he has kept his word, but he's been dropping hints with less subtlety than a slap
to the face. Sirius misses it every time.

Sighing, James flops back on his bed again at the same time that Peter lifts himself up,
gasping out, "Oh, whoozy," and clutching his head. Remus crawls into bed with a creaky
groan, but as always, he lets out a contented sigh when he undoubtedly finds it warm.
Carefully, with more care than Sirius shows most things, he perches on the very edge of
Remus' bed, and it's almost painful how visibly meticulous he's being about not touching
Remus at all, like just sitting next to Remus means something that it doesn't for anyone else.

James turns over because he's tired of looking at them. Just shag; just fucking shag already,
he thinks furiously in their direction, but they're murmuring to each other back and forth,
utterly oblivious. James punches his pillow, frustrated.

As if he needs another bloody thing to worry about on top of his own love life issues,
primarily how he doesn't have a love life with the girl he's in love with. Between that, the
mystery of Regulus Black, and whatever the fuck Sirius and Remus have going on, James is
at the end of his rope. It swirls in his mind, off in their own separate corners, problems
without solutions.

It takes about ten minutes for his brain to give a faint ding! James bolts upright immediately
with a gasp, feeling all the problems click together like little puzzle pieces. Separate, there's
no solution; together, each problem is the solution.

"Oh!" James blurts out, because oh, oh he's a fucking genius.

"James?" Peter asks, blinking at him.

"I've got it," James hisses, beaming around at everyone.

Remus sighs. "Fucking hell, I don't even want to know."

"No, probably not," Sirius agrees, smiling at him softly.

James twists around towards him, his heart racing in his chest, hands shaking with excitement
the way they do when he's just come up with a brilliant plan. This is undoubtedly among
them. "Sirius, mate, can I borrow your brother?"
"Borrow him?" Sirius' eyebrows furrow as he glances at James with a frown, and it takes him
a moment. He blinks, then his eyebrows fly up. "Wait, you want him to be your—"

"He's perfect," James declares.

Sirius looks skeptical. "You hardly know him?"

"Yeah, so? That's not the important bit, remember? Who would be more shocking than him?"
James argues.

"Wait, Regulus?" Peter gasps out, finally getting it. "Regulus Black? Are you mental, Prongs?
That's—no one would believe that. You'd be the talk of the whole school!"

James nods eagerly. "Exactly, Peter."

"Alright, I've decided it's crucial that I know," Remus mutters, propping up on one elbow. His
leg curls up and bumps into Sirius' hip, which makes him freeze in place as if someone's just
put him in a body-bind. James half-expects him to drop like a stone off the side of the bed.
"What are you planning, and how does it involve Sirius' little brother?"

"Well, if Sirius would give me an answer," James insists, waving his hands wildly to make
Sirius blink.

"Hm? Oh, right. Sure, sure," Sirius mumbles, gaze trailing down to where Remus' knee is still
pressing into his thigh, apparently very distracted by the contact. "Who knows? You could be
a good influence on him."

"Brilliant!" James says happily, pleased with this outcome.

"Will someone tell me what's going on?" Remus asks, eyes narrowing, genuinely getting
irritated now.

Peter snorts. "A disaster in slow motion, Moony, that's what."

"Thank you for that vote of confidence, Pete." James huffs, then shakes it off so he can smile
at Remus. "What's happening is I'm about to date Regulus Black."

Remus stares at him, then lays back down and turns over entirely as he says, very simply,
"Nope. Not doing this today."

"Are you going to sleep now?" Sirius mumbles, frowning down at his thigh now that Remus'
knee is no longer touching it. He glances at Remus' back and sighs. "Moony? Moons?
Moonbeam? Moonshine? Are you really going to sleep now, Moon-Moon? Moooony.
Moonster. Messr Moony. Moo—"

"What, Sirius?" Remus snaps.

Sirius jumps a little, then huffs. "Well, if you'd answered me to start with, then you—"

"Obviously I'm going to sleep, you cunt."

"Don't call me a cunt, cunt."

"Then stop being a cunt."

"If anyone's being a cunt—"

James tosses up his hands yet again and flops back onto his bed yet again, but this time, he
fumbles for his wand to flick it at his bed-hangings at almost the same exact time that Peter
does, and they likely throw up silencing charms in unison as well. Sirius and Remus can go
for hours once they get started.

Instead of listening to them do their odd little dance where the only sort of release they get
from all the pent-up feelings is just bickering, rather than the obvious shagging they should
be doing, James lays back on his bed in the blissful silence and closes his eyes, thinking hard
about his plan.

Step One: Regulus Black.

James has failed step one.

Regulus Black is laughing at him.

Then, with a suddenness that's startling, the laughter cuts off as Regulus' face falls flat. He
says, "No," before he turns right around and walks away.

James sputters for a second, then springs forward to rush after him. "No? Why not? You
didn't even let me finish!"

"I don't need to," Regulus replies simply. "The answer is no."

"Well, that's hardly fair, is it?" James mutters petulantly, lips tipping down in a frown. "You're
not letting me make my argument. It's a very good argument."

"I don't care to hear it."

"Aren't you the least bit curious?"

Regulus snorts. "I've literally never been less curious about anything in my life, Potter.
Whatever you're planning, whatever joke this is, I want no part of it."

"No, no, wait," James says in a rush, jogging ahead a few steps to swing back around in front
of Regulus. "This isn't a joke. I'm not taking the piss, or playing a prank. I genuinely want to
be your fake boyfriend."

"What the bloody hell even is a fake boyfriend?" Regulus asks, his eyes narrowing into slits.

James purses his lips. "Well, it's—it's like a real boyfriend, except we don't actually fancy
each other."

"Then why would we fake a relationship?"

"Well, I was about to get to that bit before you rudely interrupted and flounced off
dramatically."

"Don't mistake my incredulity with curiosity. I'm just appalled by your audacity, and I'm
beginning to question your intelligence. I'd assumed—incorrectly, it seems—that you'd have
to be at least a little smart, considering who your parents are, but I should know better than
most not to judge people based on their family, shouldn't I?" Regulus says, all snark, and then
he swings around James and starts walking away again.

"How were you a prick and also nice at the same time?" James mutters as he once again jogs
after him, baffled the whole way there. "I mean, you've just insulted me and complimented
my parents all at once. That's actually impressive."

"Go away, Potter," Regulus says flatly.

"Call me James. You live in my bloody house, for Merlin's sake," James replies, exasperated.
"And, just so you know, there is a reason behind all this. Multiple reasons, actually. Do you
want them chronologically or in order of importance?"

"I don't want them at all."

"Let's start with how it'll benefit Sirius."

Regulus suddenly comes to a screeching halt and whirls towards him, eyes flashing. "Did he
put you up to this?"

"What? No. It's my idea. He knows, though. I told him."

"You told him."

"Of course. He's my best mate," James says, and Regulus rolls his eyes so hard his head tips
as he swings around and starts walking again. Huffing, James catches up yet again, making
sure to keep pace with him. "Anyway, I think it would be good for him to be...exposed to this
sort of thing."

"This sort of thing," Regulus repeats, audibly suspicious.

James clears his throat and treads carefully, needing to be very delicate about this. "Yes. As in
—two men dating, even if it is fake. Like, you know, prolonged exposure to help him come
around to the idea that it's—possible."

"Are you trying to say my brother hasn't come around to it?"

"What? Oh, you mean—no! No, no, that's not what I meant. He's—I mean, obviously he's
aware that a bloke fancying other blokes is possible, because of you, but I mean past that, do
you know what I mean?"

"You're talking about his thing with Lupin, aren't you?" Regulus asks him, arching an
eyebrow, and James instantly internally panics. Some of it must read on his face, because
Regulus' lips twitch slightly. "I'd have to be stupid to miss it, especially being a man who
prefers the company of other men myself. Your solution to Sirius being an oblivious idiot is
to pretend to date his little brother? Really?"

"I'm just saying, sometimes people get a clue when they have an idea of what something
looks like," James mumbles with a defensive frown. He thought it was a brilliant idea, but
Regulus is looking at him like he's an idiot.

"That's literally the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"You're very negative. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I prefer the term: realistic," Regulus says, waving a hand casually. "Logical is an acceptable
alternative."

"Fine, moving along. Let's talk about how this is beneficial for you," James declares,
powering on.

Regulus raises both eyebrows at him this time. He has very expressive eyebrows, James is
learning. "In what possible way could this be beneficial to me?"

"I have a list. Do you want it alphabetically, or in order from least best to most best?" James
asks.

"My, you are prepared, aren't you?" Regulus says sarcastically, and James grins helplessly, a
little thrilled by the banter. "Go on, then. Tell me how you've ranked it."
"Least best, but still a benefit nonetheless, is that I'm quite liked by a lot of people in this
school, which means that you'll be granted the same positivity by extension."

"That is not a benefit. That sounds like torture. I want people to leave me alone, not find
more reasons to pester me."

"Merlin, you've never looked on the bright side of anything in your life, have you?"

"It's not my first instinct, no."

James heaves a sigh. "Fine. Next, then. As the only gay person in Hogwarts—"

"I'm not the only gay person in Hogwarts."

"Well, yeah, I know. Let me finish, would you? As the only gay person in Hogwarts that
everyone knows is gay, you'll be making something of a statement having a boyfriend. In fact,
you'll be making history, probably, just by having a shameless relationship. You'll be standing
up for yourself and others like you, loud and proud. You could even end up encouraging
others to be themselves and start living in the open, which should become normal anyway.
Isn't that lovely?"

"And when someone tries to kill me for it?" Regulus prompts calmly, tilting his head a little,
his pace slowing.

"When—I beg your fucking pardon?" James blurts out, breaking out into a scowl
immediately after. "Someone tried to kill you? When? Who was it?"

Regulus slows to a complete stop, lips tipping down. "No one has. That's just my reality,
Potter. That's what I have to watch out for and be constantly aware of."
"Has someone hurt you?" James mutters.

"Most people know better," Regulus replies calmly, but his lips press into a thin line. "It's
fine. I can handle myself."

"Well, as your fake boyfriend, I would absolutely be willing to beat the everloving shit out of
someone for bothering you about that. Also just in general, by the way. Anytime, any place,"
James tells him, not at all joking. "Sirius as well, of course. Then there's Remus and Peter,
who also absolutely would, too. Just—if something ever happens, and you need help, find
one of us."

"I said I can handle myself," Regulus snaps. "I don't need help."

"That sounds exactly like something someone who needs help would say, you know."

"You're infuriating. Has anyone ever told you that?"

James chuckles. "I prefer the term: endearing. Charming is an acceptable alternative."

"Oh, please," Regulus scoffs, shaking his head before he turns and sets off yet again.

"Next on the list," James continues, keeping up with him from the start this time. He's
learning to anticipate his cues. "You'll get to experience having a boyfriend."

"What?"

"Well, you're gay. You must want to know what it's like to date a bloke, even if it's not
actually real."
Regulus comes to an abrupt halt again, staring at him in genuine disbelief. "How does your
head not drag the ground, as big as it is? Potter, why on earth would I want to experience
having a boyfriend I don't even want? Do you go about dating girls just to see what it's like,
even if you don't fancy them? No? So, why would it be any different for me?"

"Well, it won't be, really, but I just mean…" James frowns, trying to find the right words for
this. "It's like this, yeah? Everyone else gets to do these things; they get to hold hands and go
on dates to Hogsmeade and embrace in the hallways. Why shouldn't you get to, just because
you fancy men? I know I'm not precisely who you want, but I think you should get to do as
little or as much as you like, just as everyone else does."

"But what's the point if it's not with someone I want to do it with?" Regulus insists, though
the edge to his voice has softened considerably, less angry now. Still annoyed, though.

"You might not want to do it with me, but it'd still be nice, wouldn't it? Getting to do it just
like everyone else? Surely it wouldn't be torture," James grumbles.

"You're offended. Why are you offended? How do you have any right to be offended right
now?"

"It's just—I mean, you're acting like I'm a troll, Regulus."

"Merlin and Morgana both, you're offended because you think I don't find you appealing,"
Regulus says, huffing out a soft laugh of disbelief.

James scratches the side of his neck. "Do you find me appealing?"

"I'm not doing this with you. Not today. Not ever. Find someone else to stroke your ego,"
Regulus mutters, starting to turn again, but James snaps his hand out to catch his arm.

"What the fuck is so off-putting about me?" James blurts out in genuine distress. "Will
someone just tell me what I'm doing wrong? Preferably in small statements, because
apparently I'm too much of a fucking idiot to understand otherwise."

"Self-deprecation isn't attractive, for one thing," Regulus says dryly, flicking his wand
flippantly, hitting James' hand on his arm with a mild, wordless stinging jinx. James yelps
and snatches his hand back, but Regulus doesn't seem sympathetic in the least. "Also, you're
very misleading. You've promised a list of benefits, and so far, you've failed to name even
one."

"I'll have you know that I've named multiple; you're simply a tough crowd due to your
cynicism," James says, frowning and rubbing the back of his hand. "Fine, here's the best one.
I'm going to absolutely spoil you."

Regulus blinks. "Spoil me."

"Yes. As your fake boyfriend, I'm going to treat you as if I'm your real one, which means I'm
going to spoil you. As the pretend object of my affections—"

"Not an object."

"Bloody hell, Regulus, it's a phrase. A common turn of phrase. Obviously you're not an
object." James resists the urge to reach up and rub his temples. Maybe he needs to reevaluate
this plan. Ten minutes with Regulus, and he already has a fucking headache. But no, no,
James loves a challenge. This is fine. It'll be fine. "As the pretend person of my affections,
you will be the recipient of the full James Potter Love Interest Package, which means you'll
get whatever you damn well want, and it comes with the deluxe offer of keeping me as a very
loyal friend when it's all over."

"You had me, then you lost me," Regulus says.

James tosses his hands up. "There's just no pleasing you."

"Not really, no. It's fun to watch you try, though."

"I'm moving past this, because I feel like I'm about to tear my hair out. It's like trying to get
blood out of a sodding stone; that's what talking to you is like. Actually, I'd have better luck
getting blood out of stone, at this point."

"And yet you keep trying," Regulus mocks lightly.

"You'd be doing me a huge favor," James continues, ignoring Regulus being a prat. "Because,
well, you see…" He takes a deep breath, then lets it out. "You know Lily Evans, yeah?"

"Sure."

"I don't know if you're aware, but I'm helplessly in love with her. I've been in love with her
since I was eleven. I'll be in love with her until I'm dead. She's it, you know? She's the one.
There will never be anyone else but her, for me."

Regulus stares at him for a beat, then says, "Are you waiting for me to care?"

"You are so mean," James complains, practically whining.

"I just don't understand why you think this would matter to me as someone who doesn't care
about you or Lily Evans, and also as a man who doesn't fancy women at all; it's not as if I can
relate," Regulus tells him.

James groans. "What does that have to do with anything? You can relate to love, if nothing
else. It's not about who you love; the important bit is the love."

"No, I can't relate to that either. I've never been in love."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure you'll experience it one day."

"Yay," Regulus says monotonously.

"Oh, Merlin," James chokes out, trying desperately not to laugh, but he can't really help it.
Regulus' deadpan expression and dry tone in his delivery tickles something in James that
makes it impossible for him not to find him humorous.

Regulus watches him laugh, seemingly bored of the sight, then looks away. "If you're in love
with Lily Evans, why exactly are you asking to be my fake boyfriend?" He suddenly glances
at James sharply, eyes narrowed into slits. "If you're trying this in some ridiculous attempt to
make her jealous—"

"No! No, of course not," James says quickly, shaking his head frantically. "That's not the goal
at all. I never want her to feel bad. No, what I'm aiming for here is to show her that I'd be a
great boyfriend. We're friends, you know, but I think she doesn't see me as anything else
because I've never really been anything else...to anyone. How is she to know what she's
missing if she's never even seen it?"

"I—" Regulus stares at him, mouth hanging open in vague dismay, eyebrows furrowed. It
takes him a moment, but then he shakes his head, his face smoothing out. "You know when
you get a chocolate frog, and you bust the seal, but you don't grab the frog in time, so it's just
hopping about like mad? That's what your brain is like, Potter."

James frowns. "Wait, that's a really good description of what it feels like sometimes, actually.
I swear it's like it hops away from me, you know, and it's my sodding head."

"Have you considered that Evans doesn't see you as anything other than a friend because she
doesn't see you as anything other than a friend?" Regulus asks, emphasizing the words like
he's explaining them to a toddler.

"But what if she could see me as more if I showed her that I can be more?" James insists.
"She used to despise me, really, and then I had to show her that I'm not the arrogant prat that
she thought I was, and then we became friends. What if it's the same situation as that, but
just...the next level of it, yeah?"
Regulus closes his eyes and shakes his head again, looking pained, then he opens them and
sighs. "And your solution to this is me? Pretending to be my boyfriend?"

"Yeah. It's actually bloody brilliant, if you think about it. Everyone will leave happy. I'm
going to fake date my way into falling in love," James announces grandly, sticking his hand
out and waving it through the air like he's presenting a banner.

"This is your 'very good argument'?"

"Yes."

"Right." Regulus pauses, then hums. "The answer is still no."

James' mouth drops open. "But—"

"No," Regulus repeats, then turns and walks away yet again, completely ignoring as James
rushes to keep up with him. As soon as James opens his mouth to protest, Regulus cuts in to
interrupt with a firm, "I said no. I'm beginning to think you don't know the meaning of the
word."

"It's not a definition I'm overly familiar with."

"No, Potter. That's a word in which I'm telling you in one syllable and two letters to piss off."

"I've already told you, Regulus. Call me James, would you? Also, can you at least—" James
cuts himself off when Regulus turns abruptly and sits down at a desk. He gives a violent
blink and looks around in surprise to find that he's followed Regulus into a classroom, which
has multiple other sixth year students, Slytherin and Ravenclaw, settling in.
"Mr. Potter," comes the sharp voice that makes him jolt and immediately lean casually
against the desk, aiming for aloof as he braces his hand in front of Regulus and turns to flash
Professor McGonagall a broad grin. "The last I checked, Mr. Potter, you are not a sixth year
Slytherin or Ravenclaw, so pray tell, why are you in my classroom at the moment?"

"Oh, I—erm, I…thought it would be productive for me to get a hands-on review of what I've
learned from your excellent tutelage over the years, but specifically…" James raises his arm
to scratch the side of his head, darting a quick glance down at Regulus' parchment, where he
has some notes scrawled out in neat handwriting. "But specifically Crinus Muto. Oh. Oh, ha!
Yes, I—I did enjoy that lesson, if you remember. Very much. So, you know, why not do it
again?"

Everyone stares at him, and Professor McGonagall heaves a sigh like she's very, very tired.
"Potter."

"Yes, Professor?"

"Get out."

"Yes, Professor," James mumbles, his shoulders drooping as he pushes himself up and
shuffles away. When he gives one final glance back, Regulus' lips are curled up at the corners
in a tiny, secret smile that fills James with a new wave of determination.

"I told you," Sirius says, lazily picking up Peter's shoes to dump them out of the middle of the
walkway.

James frowns and rubs his hand over his hair, staring down at the map that's spread out on his
bed in front of him. "You did tell me. He's so mean, Sirius. Why is he so mean?"

"It's an environmental thing, I assume. Too much exposure to shit people; it starts to sink in,"
Sirius replies, shrugging. "So, you're giving up, then? I told you I'd help you out and let you
be my fake boyfriend, mate."

"Cheers, but this feels personal now," James mumbles, eyebrows furrowed as he folds
another flap of the map to squint through the crowd of names all clustered together. "I'm
going to make your little brother my fake boyfriend if it's the last thing I do. Oi, what's his
favorite sweet?"

"Mm, not sure anymore. If it's the same as when he was nine, it'd be Fizzing Whizzbees. He
liked that they made him float. Always did have a thing for flying," Sirius murmurs, sounding
slightly fond as he shuffles over to begin organizing the stacks of James' books on his stand.

"Fizzing Whizzbees, Fizzing Whizzbees, Fizzing Whizzbees," James chants under his breath,
trying to remember so he can pick some up on the next Hogsmeade trip. A moment later, the
rest of Sirius' words catch up to him, making him gasp and dive for the map to swivel it
around and scan it in an entirely different area than he was looking at to start with. "Oh, there
you are. Brilliant. Sirius, you are brilliant."

"Aren't I?" Sirius teases, glancing over at him as he moves around to fix the lopsided
pillowcase on Remus' pillow. He raises his eyebrows when James scrambles up from his bed
and starts collecting his things quickly. "Heading off? It's getting late. Curfew isn't too far
away now, and Remus will eventually come wandering in with Peter."

"I know, I know," James says quickly. "I'll be careful. If not, well, what's one more detention,
really?"

Sirius snorts and salutes him. "Too right. Good luck with Reg, yeah? Comes with a spine
made of iron, that one, so be prepared to put in the work. It's a recurring Black trait, sadly."

"I've been handling you for seven years, Sirius, so I think I've got this," James says with
unearned confidence. "I'll be the bloody expert on the Black Brothers, mark my words."

"Well, one down, one to go," Sirius replies, amused.

James grins at him, then finishes gathering the rest of his things before making a break for it.
He nearly knocks Mary over in the common room and has to apologize, dipping in to kiss her
cheek before darting off again, while Mary calls after him that he's fucking mental—which,
that's a fair assessment.

Sprinting through the castle gathers a lot of attention when the crowds are thin like this, but
for those who know him, it's not a surprising occurrence. He darts past Professor Sprout at
one point, who doesn't even bother to tell him to stop running through the halls; she used to,
but she gave up around his third year. Most Professors have.

It's so cold outside the castle that he has to stop and cast a warming charm, but that brief
pause doesn't cost him much. He makes it down to the pitch just as the Slytherin team is
making their way back inside, notably short one player. They ignore him, so he ignores them
just the same, though he's running too fast for it really to matter.

Regulus is still flying, the fucking lunatic, even past the time slot for the Slytherins to
practice. He has maybe half an hour before he has to come down and make it back to his
dorm in time for curfew, if that. Isn't he cold? He must be, and yet he keeps lazily looping the
pitch like he has nothing else better to do. Merlin, he really loves flying, doesn't he? Well, at
least James can relate to that—he loves it, too.

Blowing out a deep breath that causes a cloud of fog to drift off in front of his mouth, James
stuffs his hands in his pockets and bounds off to borrow one of the school brooms, seeing as
he left his own in the dorm—he knew he was forgetting something in his haste to get down
here. While the ones provided by the school aren't necessarily the best, they'll do for this. He
just needs to get into the air.

"You again," Regulus says with a sigh five minutes later, once James has, in fact, found his
way into the air and immediately flown to join Regulus in looping the pitch.

"Me again," James confirms, grinning. Regulus is bright-eyed and pink-cheeked from the
cold, his hair fluffed up from the wind. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Potter, this isn't an unforeseen altercation; you literally came out and flew up here to bother
me," Regulus tells him flatly.
"James. Won't you call me James?"

"Won't you go away?"

Clicking his tongue, James gently bobs his broom closer, careful not to bump into Regulus. "I
will...eventually. First, I've done some thinking."

"Have you? I understand that it must have been a difficult time for you, but what does it have
to do with me?"

"Well, there's no need to be rude. In any case, I've been thinking about why you said no."

"Oh, this should be entertaining." Regulus draws to a slow halt, hovering in place in the air.
He leans back on his broom with his thighs gripping his perch, arms crossed. It looks casual.
Effortless. "Go on, then."

"Alright, I have another list," James states.

Regulus cocks his head. "Oh, there's more than one reason?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Interesting. Carry on."

"Right." James clears his throat. "So, first, you're worried about what Sirius might think."
"Goodness, you are off to a great start, aren't you?" Regulus says, his voice dripping with
sarcasm. "Are you joking? Why would I care what Sirius thinks?"

"Er, he's your brother?"

"So?"

"And I'm his best mate."

"So?"

James purses his lips. "Well, that could be...an issue. For you, I mean. Since I'm so close to
him, and you'd be fake-dating me, but allow me to set your mind at ease."

"My mind has never been at ease, not once in my life, and nothing you could say would ever
change that, but do continue; I want something to laugh about later."

"As I told you before, Sirius already knows, and he thinks it's a good idea. Whatever
reservations you have involving Sirius, set them aside. He supports our relationship entirely."

"We don't actually have—"

"And I can promise that I won't do that thing where I'll only see you as Sirius' baby brother
and not as your own person; I'd ask the same of you, of course—to be seen as more than
Sirius' very handsome best mate."

"Remus Lupin is the handsome one," Regulus informs him, not even blinking.
"I—" James opens and closes his mouth. "You know, that's fair, actually. So which one am
I?"

"The annoying one."

"I'll grow on you yet. What about Peter?"

Regulus pauses, then says, "The tolerable one."

"High praise, coming from you."

"I'm very aware."

"Right, well—oh, you're just...flying away." James heaves a sigh and watches Regulus
continue his loop. Shaking his head, James leans forward to catch up with him. "Aren't you
cold?"

"I'm used to it," is all Regulus says.

"You must really enjoy flying," James muses.

"No, I do it so much because it's torture," Regulus replies, rolling his eyes.

James can't help it; he breaks out into a grin. Genuinely, Regulus is so fucking funny
sometimes. "You're brutal during Quidditch, you know. I wasn't aware you did it
recreationally."

"Flying?"
"Mhm."

"It's soothing," Regulus murmurs, leaning back on his broom to come to a stop again. For a
moment, he just swivels his head and looks around, his face tilted up slightly, the wind
rustling his hair. He looks like he could be on a Quidditch poster, the kind that the girls all
crowd around and giggle over. "It's nice not being on the ground. Feels like you're less part of
the world that way. Like you can exist somewhere else."

"Suppose it does, yeah," James agrees idly, looking around slowly and trying to see the world
the same way Regulus does. The castle is beautiful at twilight, while the Forbidden Forest
lurks in a dark corner, and the Black Lake glitters with depths that reflect its namesake. "And,
well, the views are lovely."

"Yeah," Regulus says softly, and James glances over to find Regulus looking right at him, but
only for a moment. He turns suddenly and dives right for the ground, making James groan
and follow him. Bloody hell, why is he always running?

"Can't you stay put?" James complains as soon as he makes it to the ground. Regulus is
already heading right for the castle.

"I've places to be, Potter."

"James. It's James. Would you bloody call me—"

"Are you stealing that broom, then?" Regulus cuts in casually, swiveling his head to arch an
eyebrow at him.

James glances down at the broom in his hand, which he was just carrying off towards the
castle in the endeavor to keep up with Regulus. "Shit. Er, you wouldn't happen to be willing
to wait for me, would you?"
"Better luck next time," Regulus tells him, lips twitching as he turns and starts walking away.
"Or not, preferably."

"You're cruel and unusual, Regulus Black, and this isn't over!" James calls after him. "We
will be continuing this discussion!"

"Goodnight, James," Regulus calls back.

"Good—hey, you called me—and you're gone," James says in quick succession, then he
blows out a deep breath and turns to put away the borrowed broom before making his way
back inside. On the way to his dorm, he gets a detention, but really, he finds himself thinking
it was worth it.

Next time, James finds Regulus sitting on the open wall next to the courtyard on a
surprisingly nice afternoon, despite the snow that blew in the previous night. It's pretty,
making the ground glimmer crystals with the sunlight streaming over the layer of white that
blankets the ground. Regulus is perched against the open arch, his back to it with his legs
straight out in front of him, ankles crossed. He has a book in his lap, but his head is turned as
he watches the hustle and bustle of students moving about in the courtyard.

James, who's walking with Marlene, Lily, and Peter, slows to a halt and backs up a few steps,
eyebrows furrowed. Distracted, he mutters, "Hey, you lot go on. I'll catch up later, yeah?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, turning and jogging over to where Regulus is. He almost goes
unnoticed, sitting in the stone alcove the way he is. Somehow, James is almost sure that he
likes the privacy of it. Regulus doesn't notice James at first, so James has enough time to
reach out and pluck the book out of his loose grip, turning it around to see the cover. Sonnets
of a Sorcerer. The title makes James' eyebrows rise, and he looks up to see Regulus scowling
at him.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to touch what isn't yours?" Regulus asks sharply, leaning
forward to snatch the book back from James' hands, shutting it with a snap.
"Technically speaking, it's not yours either," James counters, lips stretching into a broad grin.
"That's mine. You little thief. You stole it from the library at home."

"I was going to return it, obviously. It's not stealing. I'm just borrowing it," Regulus retorts
defensively, dragging the book closer to himself. "And it's not yours just because it was in the
library in your home; it's your mum and dad's book, really, and I know for a fact that they
won't mind."

James chuckles and reaches out to pull open the front cover, tapping the small scrawl of his
initials, J.F.P. "Actually, it is mine, I'll have you know."

"You read?"

"Oh, piss off. Yes, I read."

"Poetry?" Regulus asks skeptically. "On purpose?"

"You're a wanker," James tells him, biting back a laugh as he reaches out again to grab the
book. Regulus relinquishes it, though he doesn't look too pleased about it. "Relax, I'll give it
back. Hold on, I'm finding my favorite sonnet."

"Let me guess, the one about Quidditch?"

"That's my second favorite, honestly. Ah, here we are."

Regulus blinks. "You're going to—"

"Shh." James holds up a finger and clears his throat. "Listen."

"I—"

"My uncomely love knows no bounds for you

How I perceive the world befalls my eyes

Over the stream, there is nothing to do

You beguile me, leave me lost to my sighs

I have lost myself in the storm of you

Easy be it the gentle pounding of rain

The whipping winds of your lips is my view

A fool for you, your heart I can't gain

Don't leave me in this chasm of my love

I grant I can't escape my endless want

I'm boundless by skies, I find you above

The cold ghost of your kiss is the only haunt;

I will ache the echo in my long sleep

You are the worldly one I wish to keep."

"You do know that sonnet is about loving someone who doesn't love the author back, don't
you?" Regulus asks, tilting his head a little bit.

"Yeah, I know," James mumbles, "but there's something so moving about it, isn't there? To
love without requiring anything back is the purest form, isn't it? I find it beautiful."

"It's sad," Regulus says, eyebrows furrowed. "Unrequited love is sad. It's meant to make you
sad, you numpty."
"Did you just call me a numpty?" James chokes out, grinning helplessly in amusement.

"Oh, shut up." Regulus rolls his eyes and snatches the book back with a huff. "What do you
want anyway?"

"Well, now I want to know your favorite," James muses, gesturing to the book.

"I haven't read them all, so I couldn't possibly pick one yet."

"What's your favorite so far, then?"

"I don't have one," Regulus says simply.

James clicks his tongue and leans up against the stone column by Regulus' feet, eyeing him
curiously. "Alright, sure. What are you doing sitting out here by yourself?"

"Watching people."

"Just...watching them?"

"Yes," Regulus tells him.

"Why?" James asks, face scrunching.

Regulus drags his thumb over the edge of the book, the tiny motion drawing James' eyes for a
moment, but he looks back up when Regulus speaks. "Come here."
"What is it?" James raises his eyebrows and pushes forward as Regulus holds out a hand,
gently cupping James' arm to pull him where he can see out into the courtyard. Regulus is
looking out at everyone, so James does the same. "What am I meant to be looking at?"

"Do you see those three girls by the fountain?"

"Er, yeah."

"All three of them fancy the same boy, but they obviously care about their friendship,
because none of them are mentioning it. The boy is playing exploding snap with his mates
over there on the cobblestones. He doesn't even know they exist," Regulus explains, lifting
his free hand to gesture to each person he's talking about.

"Oh," James says, sucking in a sharp breath. "That's a disaster waiting to happen."

Regulus hums in vague agreement. "Over there, do you see that girl and that boy studying
together?"

"Yeah."

"They fancy each other, but they're both too shy to do anything about it. Their fingers
bumped between a book earlier, and the poor boy turned bright red, but the girl was too busy
hiding a smile to notice."

"Aw, that's actually adorable."

"It's sickening, but alright. Over there in the corner, that bloke likes to draw, but he's ashamed
of it. Every time someone walks by, he hides what he's doing."

"Why would he be ashamed of that?"

"Either he isn't very good, or he's worried he'll be teased for it. Both options are equally
probable."

"And her?" James murmurs, nodding towards a girl waving her wand, looking frustrated.
"What's that all about?"

"From what I've gathered, she struggles with charms, but all her friends are very good at
them, so she wants to impress them by doing well, too. She looks young, doesn't she? Either
first or second year. It'll probably take until fourth or fifth year for her to either ask for help,
or get new friends that won't judge her for needing it," Regulus explains.

"And them?" James continues, gesturing towards a group of students shuffling through the
courtyard.

"Oh, they all hate each other, but none of them have realized it yet. The bloke there on the
end is too loud for the rest, and the girl in the middle cares too much about her hair for the
blokes, and the two boys on the end just don't get on. I think it's one of those cases where
they all met in first year and thought that meant they'd be friends for life, never branching out
from each other. Makes for a shitty seven years at Hogwarts, though, don't you think?"
Regulus shakes his head. "They have to at least be in fourth year, so that's four years they've
wasted that they can't get back. Suppose they don't see a point in drifting apart this late, but I
suspect it's worse for them not to."

James glances over at him. "What else?"

"Mm, there's Professor Slughorn, who has the structural integrity of a slug, so he's just
walking by and doing nothing while those two boys bully that girl for wearing mismatched
socks. I think she's color-blind, though."

"How do you know?"

"She gets her books mixed up as well. Has to check the titles to be sure she's picked the right
one out of her bag, when most know by shade which one they've grabbed."

"Go on."

"There's a wand under that bench over there. A boy sat it down earlier, then it rolled off
underneath when he jumped up and ran off after his friends." Regulus jerks his chin towards
it, but James doesn't look away from him. "I imagine he's going spare looking for it now."

James is admittedly fascinated by how much Regulus knows, how much he's observed, and
how he seems to genuinely enjoy it. Being on the outside of things, seeing it all and doing
nothing to join in, at peace with being on the sidelines as a silent audience to the working
cogs of the Hogwarts student populace. There's something oddly solemn about it, at least to
James, but Regulus seems sincerely content with it.

"Why don't you ever say anything to them? Stop the boy before he runs away from his wand,
at least?" James murmurs.

"That would be common courtesy, wouldn't it?" Regulus looks over at him. "I don't really
shout, and he was too far away for me to look anything less like a fool if I were to try to get
his attention. I'll turn the wand in to his Head of House on my way inside, if no one else does.
He was a Ravenclaw."

"And you?" James asks.

Regulus narrows his eyes. "What about me?"

"Well, you've learned all these things about these people by just observing them. What would
you learn about yourself if you were to observe Regulus Black from afar?" James prompts,
tipping his head to the side to wait, helplessly curious.
"Regulus Black, a boy who was previously reading before James Potter, the bloke with too
much hair, decided to interrupt him," Regulus says dryly.

James reaches up to rub a hand over his hair. "I have just enough hair, thank you very much.
Besides, that's not fair. You're observing all these things about people they'd likely never want
anyone to know. What is it you wouldn't want anyone to know, Regulus?"

"And why would I tell you?"

"You told me about everyone else."

"I'm not everyone else," Regulus points out. "I've never claimed to be fair."

"Alright," James says slowly. "What about me, then? What do you observe about me that I
don't want anyone else to know?"

Regulus arches an eyebrow. "First, I would have to observe you willingly, and I've no interest
in doing so. Superficially, I can gather that you're here to pester me again about that ludicrous
idea you have your heart set on. Though, if I'm honest, that's mostly just an educated guess."

"You are correct," James admits. "I've the next reason on the list, seeing as you didn't agree
with the last one."

"Ah, my daily entertainment. Go on."

"You can't act."

"I...can't...act?" Regulus repeats slowly.

James nods with a sigh. "You don't think you'll be able to pull it off, because you're not good
at pretending. And, you know, this one is fair. There'd be no point if you couldn't make it
believable in the first place."

"Ah. I see."

"But I bet you're just selling yourself short. I'm sure—"

Regulus abruptly turns and swings his legs over the side of the wall, letting them dangle by
James' hip. He sits the book aside and braces his hands on the wall, looking at James with his
eyebrows furrowed. "Do you want to know the truth, James?"

"About…?"

"About the real reason I can't do this."

"Actually, yes, that'd be helpful," James says.

"You say it wouldn't be torture," Regulus whispers, his eyes soft and sad in a way James has
never seen before, "but for me, it would be. It's not your fault; you haven't done anything
wrong. It's just…" He swallows and blinks, and in the next second, his eyes are watering.
James is instantly horrified by the sight of tears gathering in a thick layer on his eyeline,
threatening to tip over. "It's just that I've loved you since I was eleven years old and I saw you
on the train. From that very first glimpse, I fell in love with you. So, pretending—I wouldn't
be pretending, James, do you understand?"

"Oh, fuck," James blurts, eyes bulging, guilt immediately rattling his frame. "Merlin, I—I
didn't know. I had no—oh, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't—I would have never even
suggested this if I knew. And—and you're—I mean, you're lovely, truly, but I'm—I'm—"

Regulus blinks, the tears falling, and then he starts laughing. It's low and soft, a quiet thing
that feels oddly warm against James' skin. It's also very startling, considering the moments
prior. "You are so fucking gullible, do you know that? Do you just believe everything that
everyone tells you? Do you trust everyone and everything?"

"What?" James breathes out, still a bit frazzled, and now he's horrified. "Did you just—"

"Of course I didn't fall in love with you when I was eleven. Fucking hell, who even does
that?" Regulus asks, still chuckling, his eyes sparkling with humor, shining more obviously
after the tears. "Whatever my reasons for saying no, trust that my acting abilities aren't one of
them."

"You just—Regulus, you just cried on command," James says incredulously. "Like, real
actual tears." He reaches out and swipes one of the tears from Regulus' cheek with his pointer
finger, staring at it in disbelief. "This is a literal teardrop. An unfairly believable one, mind
you. It's genuinely a bit scary that you can do that. How the fuck did you do that?"

"I can't believe you actually thought—"

"Well, how was I to know you were pretending?! You started bloody crying! Don't do that.
You scared the piss out of me."

"Did I?" Regulus snorts and hops down from the wall, grabbing the book. "Well, now you
know. I can pretend perfectly well. I just refuse to."

"I—"

"The answer is still no. Now, if you'll excuse me, or even if you don't, I have to be off. Take
that wand to Professor Flitwick, why don't you?"

"What? I thought you were—"

"Oh, I would. But, you see, I'm relying on your sense of honor to need to do it so I can slip
away before you can follow and continue bothering me. Until next time, Potter."

James groans, watching Regulus walk away, torn between following him and turning the
wand in, knowing it needs to be done for the poor bloke who lost it. If Regulus won't, then
James has to. Huffing, James calls, "That's James to you!"

Regulus turns a corner without looking back.

James goes to get the wand.

 ACT ONE: Part Two
Chapter Notes

warnings for this chapter: a near-miss of the drunk kissing variety, some references to
greek mythology (yes, tragic deaths, sorry not sorry), all of james' friends being Tired™,
some idiot-tendencies due to Jealousy™, and james being a little cranky.

enjoy :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"I mean, he's mental. Absolutely mental," James declares loudly, following Sirius, Peter, and
Remus out of Potions. "I've literally never known anyone as mental as him."

"James, mate," Sirius says, strained, "I adore you—I truly do, and you know this, and
everyone knows this—but would you please shut up about my brother?"

James blinks. "What?"

"Prongs, you've been banging on about Regulus nonstop for the last two days," Peter mutters
wearily. "It's constant, mate."

"That's because he's frustrating," James insists, as he has apparently insisted multiple times
by now. "Is he being difficult on purpose? I think he's being difficult on purpose."

"Knowing Reggie, yeah," Sirius confirms. "I told you. Didn't I tell you? I wasn't joking."

Remus snorts. "He sounds remarkably similar to our very own Sirius Black. James, won't you
just leave it?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius asks, obviously offended. "Leave it? Are you
insinuating he give up? What, because Regulus is like me? What are you implying, Moony?"

"I'm not implying anything. It was just a question."

"No. No, that sounded cryptic, like there was some underlying meaning in it involving me."

"Not everything involves you, Padfoot," Remus mutters, rolling his eyes.

Sirius frowns. "Well, what does that mean? Now you're being cryptic on purpose. Can't you
just say what you mean?"

"I do say what I mean. You just wish to hear something different. Sorry I won't appease you
like everyone else."

"Appease me? Remus—"

"Oh, shut up," James snaps, making them both jolt and spring apart from where they'd orbited
closer together in the midst of their bickering, as if that's the only time they can get close,
which is likely why they do it at every available opportunity. It's a bit sad, because they used
to be much, much closer when they were younger, but then hormones kicked in, and now
because they want to be too close, they never let themselves be as close as they want. "What
are you two even fussing about now? Do you even know?"

Sirius and Remus glance at each other. They apparently don't actually know, because they fall
silent and look away.

"Oh, you're all so grumpy," Peter complains. "Come on, it's our last year! We're meant to be
having fun, yeah?"
James blows out a deep breath and wills away the tension in his shoulders. "Pete's right. Let's
do something. Throw a party, or plan a prank?"

"If I get another detention before Christmas hols, Minnie will have my head," Sirius says,
grimacing. "I've already had twelve and it's not even December."

"One every week," Remus says, amused. "That's a new record for you, isn't it?"

Sirius grins at him. "It is, yeah. Do you reckon they'll put me in some sort of history book?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, I'd love it. So would you, don't deny it. Don't you want to go down in history with me,
Moony?"

"It's my one and only dream out of life," Remus says sagely, lips twitching, and Sirius barks a
laugh of delight.

"So, a party, then?" Peter suggests.

"Brilliant," James announces grandly. "Sirius, invite Regulus."

"What, why?"

"Because if I invite him, he won't come."

"What makes you think he'll come if I invite him?"

"Er, you're his brother?"

"You have no concept of how our relationship as brothers works," Sirius notes, amused.
"Besides, Regulus doesn't like parties. The only way he'll come is if he's forced."

James squints. "Is abducting him too far?"

"A small bit, I'd say," Remus tells him. "Why don't you take your mind off this whole
ridiculous plot for tonight? At this point, I think you need a break."

"You do seem rather invested," Peter agrees.

"Oh, I am, Wormtail. I am," James admits shamelessly. "But fine. I'll...let it go for tonight.
Come on, we've a party plan."

Approximately six hours later, it's nearing midnight and most of everyone in the Gryffindor
common room above the age of sixteen is drunk. Lily and Remus charmed it so no one under
the age would be able to have it, leaving them to the drinks not of the alcoholic variety. First
through third years have been run off to bed by now, and a lot of fifth years have already
gone up, no doubt appreciating every bit of sleep they can get around studying for their
O.W.L.s.

Music pours over the room, rattling their bones, and someone has charmed sparkler birds to
fly about above their heads, changing colors in a bright pop of light; when they collide
together, the birds explode and rain down on everyone, then form back up perched on
someone's shoulder before taking flight again. Some of the portraits are empty, in no mood to
participate in the festivities, but others are more than happy to dance and jeer along with the
students. The fireplace crackles and warms the room, casting a glow over everyone.

Peter is showing Greta Mightgreater—a sixth year girl with a drink in her hand—how to twirl
her wand between her fingers. He taught James, Sirius, and Remus back in second year when
Sirius insisted on it, because he thought it was cool. It is a neat little trick, and Greta seems
very interested, so James suspects Peter has himself something of an admirer. He wonders
how long it'll be before they're snogging in a corner.
Remus and Sirius are off being stupid again, but the version they are when they're pissed.
James prefers this version, if he's honest, because Remus gets bold when he's drunk, and
Sirius can't lie to save his life when the drinks loosen his tongue. This means they're off in a
corner flirting. James can see them. Sirius is doing that thing he does where he leans against a
wall and tries to seem cool, but he's also overbalancing so much that he's holding onto
Remus' arm to stay upright. Meanwhile, Remus is glassy-eyed and grinning broadly, saying
something that makes Sirius laugh so hard he nearly falls over anyway.

Well, at least they're happy.

James is not drunk, because Lily thought it would be funny to charm the drinks against him
as well. Most people wouldn't know it, but she has a mischievous streak that runs deep; he
loves it. No matter how many times he's asked, she just flashes a grin at him and refuses.
When he tries to drink out of someone else's cup, the firewhiskey immediately turns to water,
so people have stopped letting him try.

It's fine, though. James doesn't mind. It's fun watching everyone. He laughs right along with
them, never needing to be pissed to loosen up. Currently, he's relaxed on the sofa in between
Lily and Marlene while Mary sits on the floor in front of him, leaning back against his legs as
he does her hair.

"I'm just saying," Mary insists, lifting up the container of gel so James can dip his fingers into
it, "we can't prove that Binns isn't a Death Echo. He died in his sleep in his office, then
proceeded to go right back to teaching. He hardly even counts as a ghost, if you think about
it. I'm convinced he still thinks it's whatever year he died in."

"Has he ever actually spoken directly to a student by name?" Marlene asks with a snort.

"He has. He's a legitimate ghost, Mary, not a Death Echo," Lily clarifies, then she leans
forward to grin at Marlene around James. "Of course you wouldn't know this, because you
slept through every one of his classes."

"Who didn't?" Marlene says, shameless. She raises her cup in a small toast. "Best thing about
finishing O.W.L.s, I immediately dropped that sodding class."
Mary hums, her head tipping forward as James works the braid down her scalp. "God, do you
remember when we'd all pick a number, and whoever had the one closest to the one a random
student or teacher said when we asked had to stay awake and copy notes for the whole
class?"

"The best thing that ever happened to us was when James learned to cast the doubling
charm," Lily muses. "First one to get it right and immediately put it to good use handing out
copies of notes. Thank you for that, Potter."

James inclines his head, smiling warmly. "I live to please, Evans. Besides, no use in everyone
trying to find someone else to copy off of. Oh, I loved it when Sirius had to stay awake and
take notes. Best handwriting in our year."

"All that Toujours Pur training," Marlene teases.

"Oh, please. I've never known anyone less pure than Sirius Black," Mary declares, cackling
in amusement. "The filthy thoughts that go in that head of his…"

"He's not that bad," James mumbles.

Lily chuckles. "Don't cover for him. We already know. It's alright, really, especially when the
person he's thinking filthy thoughts about doesn't mind."

As one, all at the same time, they all swivel their heads to look at where Sirius and Remus are
still talking, much closer now, to the point that Remus is ducking his head to speak directly
next to Sirius' ear. Sirius looks like he's about to pass out, and James doesn't know whether to
pity him or laugh.

"The worst kept secret of 1977," Marlene announces dryly, once again raising a toast.
"Well, they're not—" James halts when Lily and Marlene turn to stare at him, eyebrows
raised. Even Mary twists around, which she has the room to do since he just tied off her
second to last braid. He clears his throat. "They're mates."

"Oh, James," Lily says, looking sympathetic, baring her teeth in a grimace. He knows she
thinks he's an idiot, but he'll allow it in this case, rather than betray Sirius and Remus' trust,
even though it's ridiculously obvious to everyone but them by now.

"Did you know Sirius once asked me what it was like to suck cock?" Mary informs him,
arching an eyebrow. "While I was sucking his cock, might I add. Like, literally in the middle
of it. I was offended before I realized the reason he was asking had very little to do with my
cock-sucking skills and much to do with his curiosity surrounding the act itself. Now, tell me,
James, why would he be curious about such a thing?"

James purses his lips. "Well, I suppose it's...a curious thing, really. What is it like to suck
cock?"

"Your loyalty to your friends is admirable," Lily tells him, dangerously close to laughing.

"I'll tell you like I told him. Either find a cock to suck, or get enthusiastic about breakfast
sausage," Mary mutters, rolling her eyes as she turns back around so he can finish her last
braid. "In any case, it's only a matter of time before Sirius finds out firsthand, and we all
know he doesn't like sausage."

"Ironic, that," Marlene muses, and all the girls crack up laughing. "And, well, after all this
with his little brother, I'm convinced he'll have it all figured out by Easter."

"What does that mean?" James asks sharply, causing Lily and Marlene to blink at him.

"Oh, come off it, James," Mary says with a sigh. "No one's teasing Sirius, alright? We're all
very supportive. You could say some of us understand, even. Intimately."
"Oh. Right." James doesn't get it at first, admittedly, but then he does. It catches up to him,
and his fingers go slack around Mary's hair, making her click her tongue. He hastily reaches
forward for her wide-teeth comb, picking out the last portion to re-braid it. "Oh. You?
Mary?"

Mary laughs quietly. "What, Sirius can use me to work through all his confusing feelings, but
I can't do the same? It was a mutually beneficial four months in sixth year for us both, I'll
have you know."

"So, you—you fancy—"

"Women are lovely, too."

"Too?" James blurts out, tugging on her hair gently to get her to tip her head back so he can
lead forward and stare into her eyes from upside down. "As in...both? You can do that?"

"Sure. Why not?" Mary waggles her eyebrows at him and gives a little shrug. "There was a
huge sexual revolution in the 60s, Potter, and it's still going on now. Where've you been,
love?"

"You mean for Muggles," James says, eyes wide.

Lily makes a small sound of agreement. "Yeah. It's gaining traction in Manchester, or so my
mum says. Muggles are behind on a lot of things, but we move at the speed of light compared
to you lot."

"It's not talked about," Marlene mumbles. "In the Wizarding World, I mean. It's just not done.
I mean, well, people do it. Of course we do. We just don't tell anyone. Safer that way."

James glances at her. "We? Wait, you too?"

"I'm afraid you're surrounded by a bunch of queers, James," Mary informs him solemnly,
reaching back to pat his knee.

"Lily?" James chokes out, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes. "Is that why you
don't fancy me?"

Lily rolls her eyes. "I'm perfectly capable of fancying boys, Potter. Just because I don't fancy
you—"

"Yet."

"Give it a rest, mate," Marlene says, lips twitching.

Mary tilts her head so James can reach the curve of her head, holding the gel up so he can dip
in it again. "In any case, it's unfortunate about Baby Black, yeah? Because if Muggles are still
shit about it, I can only imagine what he's dealing with in this world. Being turned away by
his own family… I don't know. I mean, I know his family is awful, through what Sirius has
mentioned, but that still must feel really bad."

"It's lovely what your family has done for him, James," Lily says softly, her eyebrows
pinched. "It's lovely how lovely Sirius is about it as well, even though he hasn't figured out
his own shit just yet. If it was me, and I went to my sister… Well, I know she wouldn't handle
it as Sirius did."

"Sirius is a good person," James murmurs fondly, his chest feeling warm. "And, despite what
he'd have people believe, he does actually love his brother."

"Well, I'd say he's getting closer to figuring his shit out. Really close," Marlene blurts out,
sitting forward and causing everyone to immediately turn to see what she's on about.

"Oh, fucking hell," James hisses, frantically finishing Mary's last braid, utterly riveted by the
sight of Sirius and Remus talking so close to each other's faces that they may as well be
snogging at this point. Remus' eyes are crossing a bit, actually, because he's just that close.
Neither of them are doing anything about it, almost like they're daring the other to mention it
or back off first, but...they aren't.

"No, no, it can't happen like this," Lily groans, reaching over to clamp down on James' arm
and shake him. "They're both pissed and it'll just cause issues. James! James, stop them."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," James chants, springing up from the sofa to make a break for it, darting
wildly across the room. He nearly dives between them, reaching out to grab Remus' arm and
drag him back just as he goes to sway in. "Hi, Remus, Sirius! Hello, lovely party, isn't it?
Excuse me, sorry, need to borrow Moony for a moment. Stay here, Pads, we'll be back."

Sirius nearly stumbles forward, looking so devastated by this development that it's genuinely
a little heartbreaking. He makes a small sound and mumbles, "What? Why? No, no, fuck off,
James. What are you—"

James grimaces and gives a harsh tug on Remus' arm, pulling him towards the stairs to the
dorms. Poor Remus can barely stand up straight, and he's staring wistfully back at Sirius too
much to manage walking at all. He keeps nearly tripping over his feet, but he nonetheless
makes his way up the stairs. It isn't until they reach the dorm that it catches up to Remus to be
angry by this turn of events. A furious Remus is always a scary thing, honestly, but James
knows it's for the best.

"I was busy," Remus snaps.

"Yes, busy about to snog Sirius when you're both so pissed neither of you can stand up
straight, which will end terribly, and you know it," James retorts, just as firm.

Remus pauses, then he deflates. "I just—I want to know, James. Just once. If—if I could have
him just once, even just for a second, I'd be—maybe I could—"

"Mate, you can have him literally forever, yeah? You already have him. He's just...taking
some time to realize it, is all. And this? This isn't how you help him realize it. You'll both do
something stupid and end up hurt," James says, his voice softening because Remus just looks
a bit pathetic now, and James instinctively wants to soothe him.

"He was going to let me. I think he was going to let me, James," Remus mumbles, sounding
breathless.

"Yeah, he was. Still a bad idea. Do it sober, alright?"

"But he doesn't want me when we're sober."

Sighing, James walks over and grabs Remus' shoulders, steering him over to his bed to sit
him down on it. He kneels down in front of him and starts untying his shoes. "That's where
you're wrong, Remus. He wants you, he does, but he doesn't know he's allowed to when he's
sober. When he's drunk, he doesn't give a toss what he is or isn't allowed to do. That's the
only difference."

"Are we allowed to want each other when we're sober?" Remus asks, sounding stressed, not
entirely sure.

"Of course you are, Moony," James assures him, sitting his shoes aside and lifting up to help
Remus out of his second jumper, leaving him in his first. He swoops down to haul Remus'
legs on the bed so he'll slump over, curled up on his side, looking miserable. James gently
tugs his blanket up and pats the top of his head. "That was very brave of you, you know. I'm
proud of you, and him, but I'm not letting two of my best friends have their first kiss happen
when they might not even remember it. You'll just have to thank me later."

"You stole that kiss," Remus says sadly. "I'll never get that kiss back. You ruined my only
chance."

"I'll kiss you," James offers.

Remus squints at him. "I don't believe you."

"Oh, you're always so fussy when you're pissed." James snorts and rolls his eyes before
leaning down to kiss the very end of Remus' nose. "There, that will have to do, because
you're very drunk and I'm very not, so I can't trust you to make sensible choices right now. If
you still feel the same when you're sober, come to me, and I promise I'll give you the snog of
your life."

"You're very—" Remus hiccups, "—attractive, James, thank you. But I meant more that you
—you ruined my only chance to snog him. He was right there. Right fucking there. And he
looked so beautiful, and he was going to let me, and—and god, why would you ruin this for
me? You're awful."

"Sleep it off, mate," James says gently, ruffling his hair affectionately before pulling away.
Remus turns his face into his pillow and groans like he's dying.

On the way out the dorm, James stops by his own bed just to quickly check the map. He only
means for it to be an innocent glimpse, because surely Regulus is in the dungeons, asleep at
this hour. But no, it turns out that he is not. It takes James a long time to actually locate him,
surprised to find him at the astronomy tower this late. What is it with this ridiculous boy and
being out in the cold? James shakes his head and grabs the map, his cloak, and the jumper he
just took off of Remus, as well as a bag to carry it all in.

When he makes it out of the dorm, James sees Sirius loitering at the bottom of the steps,
staring down into a glass like it holds all the answers to the universe. James blows out a deep
breath and looks around for help, but Peter is very busy snogging Greta—which, good for
him, honestly. This means that James has to handle a dramatic, pouting Sirius alone.

As soon as Sirius sees James, he tilts a little precariously and stumbles towards him, looking
mutinous. "Where is he? You took him away. Why would you do that, Prongs?"

"Sirius," James says with a sigh.

"No, because—because we were—" Sirius makes a low noise of complaint, hazy-eyed.

"Something important was about to happen, James, I could—I could feel it. Like… Like
divination, yeah? My future, mate. It was—it was there, and then it just… It was snatched
away from me."

James squints at him. "Are you saying that you felt like your future was snatched away from
you at the same time I pulled Remus away? To be clear, that's what you're saying."

"Well, yeah. Now that you mention it, that's a bloody big coincidence, that is." Sirius blinks
rapidly, looking dazed and slightly confused. "It just felt like he was about to tell me. Or
show me. Or… I don't know. It was like I could reach out and touch it, and then it was
just...gone."

"Right." James huffs out a quiet laugh and shakes his head, reaching out to grab Sirius' arm
and steer him towards the sofa. Mary has taken his seat in between Marlene and Lily, so
James helps Sirius settle down on the floor, leaning against Mary and Lily's legs. He throws
them a significant look, which they all seem to grasp immediately. "Padfoot, you're going to
sit here and relax with them for a bit, yeah?"

"But what about—"

"Remus wasn't feeling well. All the drinks caught up to him, so he's lying down a little early.
Leave him be for a few hours. Go up when Peter does, alright?"

Sirius groans and throws his head back to rest it on Lily's thigh. She reaches down to pat his
head. "Fine. He's alright, though, isn't he? Is he angry with me?"

"Why would he be angry with you?" James asks.

"Dunno," Sirius mumbles. "He's always angry with me."

James frowns again, displeased. He bends down to lightly tap Sirius' cheek, making him lift
his head so he can drop a quick kiss off on top of it. When he pulls away, he says, "No one is
angry with you, Sirius. Just relax, have fun, enjoy the party."
"We've got him," Marlene murmurs, nodding at him.

"Cheer up, Black," Lily adds, nudging his head with her knee, seeing as he dropped it back
down again. "I've new hot gossip about Slughorn. You love hot gossip about Slughorn."

"I love Remus," Sirius slurs, still complaining, and James resists the brief urge to strangle him
while shouting yes, exactly, think about that deeper for more than a minute, please!

"Don't we all?" Mary says, lips twitching as she shares a look with James, her eyes sparkling
with humor.

"Right, but I love him the most, do you know that? Do you reckon he knows that? It's true,
you know," Sirius mumbles while sounding ridiculously relaxed, though that could have
something to do with Lily gently massaging his scalp.

"We know," Marlene assures him.

Sirius hums in apparent satisfaction. "James, mate, are you still here? I love you too, you
know. Very much."

"Yeah, I know. Love you too," James replies dutifully, fond despite himself. "Stay put,
alright?" He glances between the girls. "He's not to go up unless Peter does."

"Yes, Mum," Mary teases.

James rolls his eyes and flashes them a grin before bounding off to call out, "Oi, Wormtail!"

"Yeah?!" Peter shouts back, briefly detaching from Greta, who entertains herself by twirling
her wand, seemingly pleased that she can do the trick now.
"Take Padfoot when you head to bed! Don't let him go up by himself!" James declares.

Peter raises his glass in a sign of agreement. "Alright! Are you going somewhere?!"

"I'll be back!" is James' loud response before he ducks out of the entrance and digs his cloak
out at the same time.

James continuously checks the map on the way to the tower, but Regulus' name never moves.
He goes in quietly, not at all surprised to see Regulus severely underdressed for the cold
weather, which James is starting to think is becoming one of his biggest pet-peeves. How
hard is it to put on a fucking jumper? Shaking his head, James leaves his cloak and map in
the bag, sitting it by the door, but he tucks Remus' jumper over his arm and walks further in.

Regulus whips his head around when he hears him, his eyes narrowing almost instantly. "You
again. How do you keep finding me? It's like you know where I am."

"I have my ways," James says, pleased that he gets to be the mysterious one for once. He
likes the thought that Regulus will be curious about him. "Here, I've brought you a jumper,
because I knew you wouldn't be dressed properly."

"I'm fine," Regulus replies, looking away.

James breathes heavily through his nose, irritated, then holds the jumper out more forcefully.
"If you don't put this on…"

"What?" Regulus challenges, turning right back towards him again, eyebrow arched.

"I'm going to put it on for you."

"You know, if you're still trying to sell this whole 'fake boyfriend' idea to me, you're terrible
at acting the part. Usually, the goal is to get me out of my clothes."

"I—" James opens and closes his mouth, caught off-guard and left a little flustered. His
cheeks sting in the cold. "Oh, shut it. Just—just put it on, would you? It's not mine, if that
helps."

"Sirius?" Regulus guesses, frowning at the jumper.

"No. Well, he's probably worn it before. It's Remus'. We all wear his jumpers, so you
wouldn't be the first," James says.

Regulus hums pensively. "I won't be one at all. The cold doesn't bother me, really. I said I'm f
—"

The rest of Regulus' words get lost in the fabric of the thick jumper as James steps forward
and stuffs it over his head. He comes out the other side sputtering, blinking rapidly and
looking appalled. His disbelief is probably the only reason that James manages to stick his
arms through the sleeves quickly. He's amused to note that they come down over his fingers,
and the neckline swoops a little bit.

"There," James declares, satisfied. "Warmer now, aren't you? Don't lie. I've worn Remus'
jumpers. I know."

"I'm going to burn this," Regulus grits out, nostrils flaring.

James snorts. "You won't. That's like kicking a puppy. Only the worst of the worst pricks
would; there's a cardinal rule to never disrespect Remus' jumpers. Keep it, though. He won't
mind, I promise."

"If I agree, will you go away?" Regulus grumbles.

"At some point. I don't plan to stand out here all night. Actually, what are you doing out
here?" James asks, turning to lean against the rail.

Regulus is silent for a long moment, then he sighs. "What does it look like? I'm stargazing,
James."

"Are you really?"

"Obviously."

"That's a bit cliche, isn't it? Because you're named after a star, I mean. Do you actually like
them, then?"

"No, I despise them, and that's why I'm out here gazing upon them, because I like doing
things that I hate."

"Have you ever had a conversation without sarcasm, Regulus? Even one?" James asks, trying
fruitlessly not to smile.

"With you? No."

"You should try it sometime."

"Mm, I don't think I will," Regulus says thoughtfully.

James hangs his head forward and cracks up, smothering his laugh into the crook of his arm.
He stops himself from looking over at Regulus when he calms and lifts his head, instead
focusing on the stars. "What do you like about them? I mean, don't they remind you of—er,
your family?"
"Oddly enough, no," Regulus admits, his voice growing soft and quiet, and James can hear
the genuine sincerity in his tone. He's never heard it before, so he glances over, but Regulus
is just staring up at the sky. "When we were younger, Sirius and I found a book about
astronomy. We wanted to know the meaning behind our names, I suppose, so we read it. We
learned all about the myths and stories behind the constellations. Sirius didn't like his, of
course. Didn't like the idea of being Orion's dog forever trapped in chasing his prey."

"Sounds like him," James agrees. "Do you like yours?"

"The Leo constellation is usually associated with the lion that Hercules fought, the one that
he had to strangle because no other weapon would work against it. Apparently, Zeus put the
lion up in the sky to commend his bravery, like a bloody trophy," Regulus says, sounding
sour. "Don't much like that one, if I'm honest."

James blinks. "Is there...another?"

"Pyramus and Thisbe," Regulus murmurs, and James can tell he likes this option better.
"They were young and in love, but their parents thought them too young to marry and
forbade them from seeing each other. So, they snuck out to a mulberry tree that had white
berries. Thisbe showed up one day in a veil, and a lion jumped out, so she ran off like any
sane person would. Her veil fell, though, and the lion was bloody from its latest kill, so blood
got on it. Pyramus showed up, saw the veil, thought it meant she was dead—naturally, he
immediately threw himself on his own sword because he didn't want to live without her.
Thisbe returned while he was dying and threw herself on his sword as well, because she
didn't want to live without him either. Their blood turned the white berries red, and they
remain so today, or so the myth goes. It's said that Zeus placed her veil in the heavens as
Coma Berenices."

"Merlin, that's awful," James says with a frown, his eyebrows scrunching together. "You
prefer that over Hercules' victory?"

"I don't like the idea that Leo is in the shape of a lion because the lion was bested," Regulus
explains, wrinkling his nose. "I also—well, Regulus is the heart of the lion, technically."
James' lips twitch. "Are you...defensive of the lion, Regulus?"

"It's my lion," Regulus mutters, scowling. "Piss off, you know what I mean. Besides, tragic
love makes for a far more entertaining story, doesn't it? Who cares about the labors of
Hercules, yeah? Give me love and death. That speaks to me."

"So, you don't like unrequited love, but tragic love you're alright with?"

"Well, it was never a question if Pyramus and Thisbe loved one another. Could you imagine
loving someone so much that you'd die next to them rather than live on without them?"

"I…" James blinks, startled by the question. He's never thought about it, honestly. It's a rather
morbid question to ponder.

Regulus turns his head to look at him. "Is there anyone you would die with rather than live
without them?"

"Sirius," James says immediately. "Peter. Remus. But that's not… I mean, you're talking
about romance, yeah?"

"Yes, James. You're meant to say Lily. She's the one, isn't she?"

"Do I have to be willing to die with her for that to be true?"

"Suppose not," Regulus allows, shrugging.

James frowns. "That's not exactly healthy, is it? If you love someone, you'd want them to live
on even if you didn't. If they loved you, they'd want the same. Don't you think so?"
"I've never loved anyone to know," Regulus admits, looking away again. "I just think… Well,
I wouldn't want to outlive the people I love, friends and family and lovers alike. It just sounds
like the worst thing I can imagine."

"It'd be hard, yeah," James agrees gravely. He falls silent, then gives a violent shudder, like
someone just walked cold fingers up his spine. For a brief moment, he feels like he exists in
another life where he gets a glimpse into the horrors of losing someone he loves. Upon
reflection, he thinks he gets exactly what Regulus means. With a sudden conviction he can't
help, he hopes he dies first before those who matter the most to him. "Alright, well, I don't
want to talk about this anymore. It's making me feel bad. Time for something lighter, I
think."

"You're soft-hearted, Potter," Regulus comments.

"If not wanting to think about dying or those I love dying makes me soft-hearted, then so be
it. I am. Gladly." James shakes his head and glances up at the sky again. "Is your star up there
tonight?"

"It's not, but that's Sirius," Regulus says, gesturing up at the sky, the sleeve slipping down as
he points it out. "He left for a bit, then came back, the prick. Can't let Vega have her time."

"And who's Vega?" James asks, snorting.

Regulus' lips twitch. "The brightest star in the sky this time of the year, until Sirius comes
back to inevitably outshine her. She's a part of Lyra's constellation, representing the lyre of
Orpheus, the first ever made. They say Orpheus' music was so lovely that even stone would
be charmed by it."

"Sounds like magic," James muses. "Do you reckon music is magical in a sense? Remus and
Sirius would say so, probably. Remus definitely would. He's convinced Bowie is a wizard."

"Who?" Regulus asks.

James' head snaps over. "You don't know Bowie?"

"No. Should I?"

"Oh, bloody hell, you don't deserve to wear that jumper. Remus would be… Goodness, you
can't tell him. We'll fix this over the hols. Sirius has some of his records. Do you know Queen
at least?"

"Sirius tried to show me. I don't know, something about a symphony, or—"

"Rhapsody? Bohemian Rhapsody? Sirius showed you Bohemian Rhapsody, and you didn't
immediately fall in love?"

"It was good," Regulus says mildly, not at all enthusiastic enough for James' taste. He can
imagine how disappointed Sirius must have been. "I just… Well, I've never really listened to
anything like that before. Everything was instrumental in our house, and it's not like any
Slytherins play it."

"So, for you, it's an acquired taste," James replies slowly.

Regulus shrugs. "Right. I don't...hate it."

"But you don't love it either. So, you wouldn't say music is magical, then?" James prompts.

"I think everything is magical," Regulus murmurs. "It has to be, doesn't it? I mean, magical
theory is just the belief that we're born with this...something that flows out of us and makes
things happen, or creates something, or destroys something. Music does that, so it's magic. Or
an extension of it, at the very least, seeing as it's made by magical people."

"What about Muggles, then? Are they magic, too?"

"In their own way, I suppose. We just don't understand them."

"And Squibs?"

"Even Squibs. Haven't you ever read My Life as a Squib by Angus Buchanan?"

"I haven't, no. You have?" James asks curiously.

Regulus nods. "I did. My point is, even plants are bloody magic. You can't find anything
untouched by or disconnected from magic, James, even if it's just magic we don't understand
yet."

"You really don't think like your parents, do you?" James murmurs, scanning the side of his
face.

"You mean Toujours Pur?" Regulus asks flatly. He heaves a sigh and looks down at his
hands, fiddling with the sleeves that slip over his knuckles. "It's hard, you know, because I'm
—well, I'm gay. And that's not Toujours Pur, is it?" His lips pinch and press into a thin line. "I
suppose I did believe in it for a while; or maybe I just...sort of nodded along and never really
thought about it until it directly affected me. But I thought—how can it be true if this is what
I am? I'm bred to be fucking pure, and no part of me matches up, so what sense does that
belief make? I used to think Sirius was just...being rebellious, you know. Being who he was
on purpose, like it's a choice, influenced by his stupid friends and his hatred for the family.
Then you've got my friends, and I never hated the family the way he did, so why…? Because
it's not a choice, as it turns out."

"It upsets you? That you're not Toujours Pur, or whatever."

"It did. Still does sometimes. Shockingly, Sirius was helpful about the whole thing. I suppose
he'd have to be, seeing as he did it first. And, really, I've no interest in marrying a woman and
trying to shag her. If nothing else, getting away from that fate was worth it."
"So, you completely rejected everything you ever believed because it didn't apply to you,
which made it lose all of its credibility?" James says slowly, eyebrows raised.

"Isn't that reason enough?" Regulus asks, glancing at him.

James blows out a deep breath. "You know what? I'll take it. However you got there, at least
you got there."

"Oh, is that right? Well, I'm so very glad I've gotten your approval, James. It's all I've ever
wanted," Regulus tells him, his voice flat and bland. "Really, it's a huge weight off my chest.
I do everything in the hopes that you'll—"

"Shut it," James chokes out, his shoulders jerking up as he breaks out into helpless laughter
again.

Regulus looks at him in mock-confusion. "Don't you want to know more about how all of my
thoughts and actions revolve around what you'll think about me?"

"You're a tosspot," James says, still chuckling.

"And you think you're the center of everything."

"I do not."

"You'd like to be, at least. James Potter, the one with the grand desire to be the sun. Everyone
revolving around you, sucked into your gravitational pull," Regulus muses.

James bites his bottom lip to try stifling his grin. "Well, I have been told that my smile is
blinding like the sun."
"What fool lied to you?" Regulus asks, and James busts out laughing again, unable to help it.
Regulus watches him for a beat, lips curling at the corners, and then he looks away. "I
suppose someone in your group of friends has to be the sun. Sirius is a star, and he bangs on
about Lupin being the moon or something, so I reckon that makes you the sun. Makes sense.
I fucking hate it when the sun gets in my eyes."

"Oh Merlin," James wheezes, roaring with laughter all over again, bending halfway over to
rest his forehead on his arms as he loses it. "Shut up, shut up. You're so mean, Regulus."

Regulus snorts. "The insult doesn't quite come across well when you're laughing as you are."

James calms down, catching his breath and lying his head over on his crossed arms. "Not so
sure that it is an insult, at this point. So, I'm the sun. Sirius is a star. Remus is the moon. What
does that leave Peter, then?"

"Oh, you want options?"

"I'd like to know what I have to choose from, yeah."

"Well, there's the earth. There's—"

"Wait, no, that's it."

"Pettigrew is the earth?" Regulus asks.

"Yeah." James nods and straightens up. "What's the universe without our home? What's us
without Peter? Besides, it's a nice bit of symmetry, isn't it? The moon, the earth, the stars, and
the sun. Just makes sense."
"Has this been a fun little thought experiment for you?"

"If you must know, yes, actually."

Regulus rolls his eyes and pushes away from the rail, shaking his head. "Sure. Well, that's
time I'll never get back. I'm going to bed before you waste anymore."

"Oh. Right," James blurts out, jolting up. "Will you make it back to the dungeons without
getting caught?"

"I've done it enough that I know how."

"Do you want me to walk you?"

"I don't need an escort, James," Regulus mutters, sounding exasperated as he heads for the
door.

James rushes to follow him, snagging his bag as he slips quickly through the entrance. "No, I
know, but—"

"You're going to follow me, aren't you?" Regulus cuts in.

"Yeah, probably," James admits, unrepentant.

Regulus sighs and turns around. "Fine. Waste your time if you like. Not my business."

"Wait, I have a—well, I'm swearing you to secrecy, so you can't tell anyone. But I have an
invisibility cloak," James says, digging around in his bag to draw it out. He holds it up when
Regulus slowly turns to stare at him. "I'm just saying, it'll help you get back without Mrs.
Norris finding you."

"Of course you have that," Regulus mutters, stepping closer to reach out and feel the fabric
between his fingers. He holds it up and huffs a soft laugh. "Only you, Potter."

"Have you ever seen one?"

"My father had one briefly, but it wasn't authentic like this. The charms faded. But this? I can
tell that it's the real thing."

James is pleased by the interest in Regulus' voice. "You can use it. Well, we can use it. Be a
bit of a tight fit, but Sirius and I make it work all the time." He swings it around himself and
holds it up. "Come on, then. Get under."

"Ah," Regulus says, though it sounds like a punched out exhale more than a word. He takes a
sharp step back. "You know, actually, I'll just take my chances with—"

"Don't be ridiculous," James interrupts, scoffing, and then he moves forward and tosses the
cloak over Regulus as well, drawing it up and shifting it over them. "Hold on, our feet will
stick out if you don't walk ahead of me. Turn like—" He reaches forward to grip Regulus'
arms and turns him to face the same direction as him, then pulls him back a step until his
chest bumps into Regulus' back. After minor adjusting to cover them as much as possible,
James hums. "There we are. Now you walk, and I hold on and walk with you. Doesn't block
out noise, though, so we have to whisper."

Regulus doesn't move, so James huffs—his breath ruffles the back of Regulus' hair. Rolling
his eyes, James keeps a firm grasp on his arms and nudges him forward.

They shuffle.
"You know," James whispers, ducking his head to murmur into Regulus' ear, "you can
actually take full steps."

In a move that James doesn't see coming at all, Regulus' shoulders wrench upwards as he
gives a rather violent shudder and rips himself out of James' hands, swatting at the cloak to
dive outside of it. Blinking, James fights to poke his head out, watching Regulus rub the back
of his neck in bemusement.

"Alright?" he asks.

"I'm fine, and I'll find my own way back to bed, so you take your fucking cloak and sod off,"
Regulus snarls, apparently furious enough that his entire face is red. He whips around
immediately after and stomps away.

James sputters and calls, "I—well, fine. I will. Goodnight to you, too. Fucking prat."

Regulus flips him off over his shoulder.

Remus has looked less tired following some of the worst fulls, and James knows it's his fault,
but he can't really help it. As much as he's trying, he can't get his mouth to stop working.
Literally every time he parts his lips, something else about Regulus Black—a complaint,
usually—tends to fall out.

"And it's the fucking cloak," James rants, jerking his hands out in front of him wildly as he
keeps pace with Remus. "The cloak, Moony! One of the most brilliant pieces of magic this
world has to offer, and he wanted to skip the opportunity to use it, because—what, he's too
good?"

"Right," Remus mutters, blinking slowly.

"No one is too good for the cloak. It's impressive! Who isn't impressed by the bloody thing
the first time they see it?"

"Mhm."

"He seemed impressed at first, at least a bit, but then—I don't know, really. Maybe it wasn't
the cloak at all."

"Maybe."

"What if it was me? What if he just didn't want to use the cloak with me? What is his fucking
problem with me? Do I smell bad? Remus, you'd tell me if I smelled bad, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And I don't."

"Uh huh."

"So," James continues, tossing his hands up, "what's his issue? It seemed like—I mean, well,
we got on, actually. He's… He's really quite funny, did you know that?"

Remus blinks, his eyes focusing like he's checking back into the conversation. He takes a
second to presumably catch onto what James asked him, then admits, "Never really spoke to
him, if I'm honest. Is he funny like Sirius is funny?"

"Mm, sometimes, but also...no," James muses. "It's hard to explain. He's mean, you know, but
it's—I don't know. I like it."
"You like that he's mean?" Remus asks skeptically.

James shrugs. "It's alright when he does it, do you know what I mean? Does that make
sense?"

"Sure, mate," Remus mumbles, gaze unfocusing again.

"But then he's infuriating. He'll just randomly turn his whole mood around out of nowhere? I
mean, he was nice. Sort of. We talked about stars. That's nice, isn't it?"

"Of course."

"So, why did he just—just—" James garbles out a noise of frustration and curls his fingers
into claws in front of him like he's strangling something. "We were getting on! He even calls
me James sometimes now, instead of Potter. That means something, doesn't it? What does
that mean?"

Remus sighs. "No idea."

"He's so fucking—" James comes to an abrupt halt, doing an instinctive double-take when he
catches sight of Regulus slipping into an empty classroom, being rather shifty about it. James
wouldn't think much of it, except he gets a glimpse of someone else inside, not enough to
know who, just enough to know someone's in there. Voice faint, James mumbles, "You go on,
Moony. I'll catch up with you, yeah?"

"If you don't make it in time, Sirius will take all the asparagus rolls you like," Remus warns.

"Uh huh. Sure, sure, fine," James replies distractedly, already backing up. "I'm right behind
you."

"And when Sirius asks where you are?" Remus asks, a mixture of exasperated and resigned.
"Whatever you like," James mutters, barely paying attention as he jogs away, fighting
through the stragglers of those heading for supper—which is where Regulus should be right
now.

James would be there himself already, as most everyone is, but he'd stayed back with Remus,
who'd needed a shower after a plant vomited on him in Herbology. Professor Sprout had
assured him this was a sign of affection and assigned him five points for being so appealing
that he endeared himself to glorified shrubbery, and Sirius had promptly gone into a strop in
the only way he can because the plant had spent the better part of the class practically
cuddling Remus. Jealousy is such an odd thing, James can't help but think. It addles the
mind.

The door to the classroom is locked, and there's a fuzzy sort of muffled barrier on it that
suggests noise has been suppressed. Eyes narrowing suspiciously, James slips further up the
hall so he can lean against the corner, mostly out of view with his head poking out so he can
see. He crosses his arms and waits.

It takes a good bit into supper—at least twenty minutes—for the door to slip open. James
jerks back quickly, waiting a beat, then hesitantly peeks around the corner. For a moment, he
doesn't recognize the bloke, but it hits him as the boy turns away and starts casually heading
towards the Great Hall. Evan Rosier. One of the few people Regulus apparently mentioned to
Sirius by name over the summer, or so Sirius said.

Frowning, James leans farther out to try and get a better look at Rosier, to really memorize
the details of him. Rosier, utterly oblivious to the scrutiny, just carries on until he disappears
from sight entirely. Lips pressing into a thin line, James swings around the corner and moves
over to perch by the door, arms crossed again as he waits for Regulus to come out.

It takes another few minutes, and then he does, gently shutting the door and turning. When he
sees James, he jumps slightly and hisses, "What the fuck, Potter?"

"I could ask you the same," James retorts. "Secret rendezvous, Regulus? Really?"

"I—what? Secret what now?" Regulus asks, blinking.

James scoffs and jerks his head to the side. "You and Rosier. I saw him just now. Seems like
you two got in enough time to do a bit of snogging, at the very least." James clicks his teeth,
then runs his tongue under his top lip. "Well, I'm here to tell you, if he's making you sneak
around, he's a coward."

Regulus' eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Yes, I heard you. I was just giving you the opportunity to backtrack wisely, which was a one
time offer that you're about to regret not taking. First of all, there's nothing fucking cowardly
about not being willing to be openly gay; don't talk about shit you don't know about. It's
dangerous, so you don't get to speak from your position about bravery when it's not
something you have to worry about. If I had my choice, no one would know about me, but I
didn't get one."

"No, I—I know that. I do. It's just—" James exhales sharply and bounces on the balls of his
toes, trying to find the proper words to explain what he means. "You shouldn't be someone's
secret, Regulus. You shouldn't have to be, and it's—alright, it's not fair for him either, I get
that, but you still—" James once again struggles, then raises his hands as if surrendering, a
tight coil burning in his chest. "I'm just saying, you deserve someone who would be honored
to be with you. That's all."

"James—" Regulus is quickly cut off.

"And lovely," James continues with almost aggressive delight, overly cheerful to the point
that his teeth ache, "this explains why you refused to let me pretend to be your boyfriend.
You hardly need one when you have a real one, apparently. Does he treat you well? Does he
make you very happy?"

"Evan?" Regulus asks, one eyebrow arching.

James flaps a hand in annoyance towards the direction Rosier skipped off in. "Whatever his
fucking name is. Evan. How mediocre. That's a very mediocre name."

"As opposed to...James?" Regulus says, lips twitching.

"James is a strong name, fuck off," James snaps. "I'm just saying it sounds a bit ridiculous.
Regulus and Evan. That doesn't even go well together. Would you take his last name if you
got married? Regulus Rosier. That's…" He works his jaw, inordinately irritated that it
actually rolls off the tongue unfortunately well. "Just, as far as names go, it's—it's very…"

Regulus waits, but James can't figure out where that ends, which only peeves him off even
more. Finally, Regulus takes pity and says, "Well, we wouldn't be able to get married anyway.
It's illegal, you know."

"Good," James says reflexively, then gives a violent twitch when Regulus cocks his head at
him. "Wait. Wait, no, not good. That's really, very much not good. I don't think it's good that
it's illegal; it should absolutely be legal; I'm so sorry it's not legal. I just meant it's good you
can't marry him. That's just a mistake waiting to happen. He's not a good sort."

"Do you even know him?" Regulus asks.

James clears his throat. "Anyway, does Sirius know? As my best mate, I'm going to have to
tell him. Practically required by law, really. Sorry to say, but I don't think he'll approve at all
of this little...tryst you've got going on. Wait, how serious is it? You don't love him; you said
you've never experienced being in love, so...that's that. Actually, why are you even with
someone you don't love? That'd be like pretending to date me. Oh, so he's alright to do it
with, but I'm a problem?"

"I'm almost afraid to see how far you can take this," Regulus muses. "You just keep going."

"I can tell that you're mocking me, which is ironic, considering that you fancy someone who
has—" James halts, helplessly scrambling in his mind for one insult that actually holds any
weight. Nothing presents itself. "Fucking hell, why are his cheekbones like that? That's not
fair."
Regulus tucks his lips in like if he doesn't, he'll laugh. A really big laugh, one that James
finds himself a bit disappointed he's not getting to see or hear. "Yes, he does have very nice
bone structure, doesn't he?"

"Oh, is that what does it for you? Nice bone structure?"

"If it were?"

"That'd be—fine," James says grudgingly, unable to grasp where his smile has run off to. "Is
that it, then?"

"I suppose, if I actually fancied him, then that would likely contribute to one of the reasons.
But I do not."

"You don't, but you're just—what, having a secret rendezvous just for something to do?"

"If I were, that'd be well within my right and not any of your business in the least," Regulus
informs him slowly, like he's explaining something very simple to an idiot. "But, again, I am
not. Evan and I aren't dating, James, in secret or otherwise. I don't fancy him; he doesn't
fancy me. We've been friends for a long time, and his father would be a prick if he found out
that Evan and I were still friends after—everything that happened. The details aren't your
business."

"You're sneaking around to be his friend?" James blurts out in disbelief. "Merlin, Regulus,
get new friends if they'd make you meet them in hidden classrooms and miss meals to—"

"I'm making him, actually," Regulus says sharply, and James' mouth snaps shut. "Didn't I tell
you not to talk about things you don't know about? Stop making assumptions and realize that
you don't have a right to an opinion on everything."
James rears back, feeling as if he's been smacked on the side of the head with no hand—but
with words. It feels like it resets him a little bit, actually, and he gives a violent blink. "Oh,
that was all very...unreasonable of me, wasn't it? Fuck. Sorry. I didn't mean—well, I'm not
sure why I—"

"Because he's a Slytherin," Regulus says flatly, "and you're naturally disposed to assume the
worst about them. You're like Sirius that way."

"I don't have an issue with Slytherins," James hedges.

"No?"

"No! I swear. I mean, alright, so I was a bit biased in my first year. And my second. And my
third. And my—well, you get my point. But hold on, hear me out, yeah?"

Regulus heaves a sigh. "This should be interesting. Go on."

"So, my dad—you know my dad—"

"Yes, I know your dad."

"Right, exactly," James says, bobbing his head earnestly. "So, when I was younger, my dad
used to mutter about my mum's mum a lot before she died. Not anymore, of course; my dad
doesn't speak ill of the dead. Anyway, my gran and dad didn't really get on, from the way I
understand it, and he was too respectful to, er, disrespect her about anything substantial, so he
just carried on about her House, which was—"

"Slytherin," Regulus fills in, now looking vaguely amused.

James coughs, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah, she was. He'd grumble about her being a snake and
such, and I was young and impressionable, so it took me years to work out that my dad didn't
have anything against Slytherins as a group—just that specific one. It came from a place of
irritation with his mother-in-law, who never quite thought he was good enough for her
precious daughter, my mum."

"And you just believed everything your parents said?"

"Didn't you?"

"Oh, feisty today, are we?" Regulus asks, his eyebrows sweeping up, and James groans as he
lifts his hands to cover his face, which now feels hot.

"Sorry, sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry," James mumbles, the words muffled into his palms. He drops
his hands and gazes helplessly at Regulus, who looks slightly amused. "I don't know why I'm
being—why I'm so—it's like I'm on edge lately, I don't know. Sorry."

"It's called a bad day, Potter. We all have them," Regulus points out. "In any case, if you're
done lecturing me about my secret rendezvous, I'll be going, because the only person making
me miss a meal at the moment is you."

"I don't have them," James says as he matches his stride.

"You're following me," Regulus notes with a sigh.

"I'm walking with you because I'm literally going to the same place, Regulus," James snaps.

Regulus raises his hands slightly, glancing over at him, his lips twitching. "Alright, fair
enough. No need to bite my head off."

"Fucking shit," James curses, reaching up to shove his hand through his hair in frustration.
"Again. I'm doing it again. What's wrong with me?"
"I told you, this is called a bad day. As I mentioned, we all have them, so it's not an isolated
event."

"I don't have them, not really. I'm generally always in a good mood. I was in a good mood
before. Er, mostly."

"No one can be in a good mood all the time, James. I think you're allowed to have bad days at
least some of the time."

"Do you have bad days?"

"Oh, Potter," Regulus says, laughing softly, "I have bad weeks."

James frowns. "Well, that sounds awful."

"No, no, I enjoy it. I look forward to it every time," Regulus tells him sarcastically, and James
snorts weakly. "When I have a good week, I hardly know what to do with myself. My
beloved bad weeks; I wouldn't be who I am without them."

"You're so strange," James mumbles, lips curling up.

"I'm actually quite boring," Regulus corrects.

"Mm, we're going to have to agree to disagree on that one. Of the many things I'm learning
about you, that you're boring most certainly isn't one of them," James says.

"Oh?" Regulus hums curiously, looking at him. "What have you learned that I am, then?"
"Frustrating, infuriating, fascinating, funny," James lists off.

Regulus slows slightly, remarkably quiet for a long moment, and then he looks away and
murmurs, "In that order?"

"In any order, really," James muses. "They're all true."

"Right," Regulus announces very abruptly before he starts walking faster, with more
purpose.

James has to lengthen his stride to keep up. "Like this. You're always bloody rushing off to
get away from me. It's fucking frustrating. And don't say something mean, because I'm
having a bad day, and apparently this means I'll say something rude and stupid without
meaning to."

"Say something rude and stupid," Regulus mutters. "We all do it from time-to-time. Not even
James Potter is above it."

"Merlin, but I try to be," James admits wearily.

"Stop," Regulus declares, whirling around to face him with that suddenness of his. They're
only a few steps away from the Great Hall, so the sounds of chatter and laughter drift out to
them. "Stop trying so bloody hard to be perfect. No one can be, and you don't have to be. I
can't believe I'm the one telling you this, but just be yourself. Believe it or not, that's all the
people who really matter want from you anyway."

"Oh." James blinks. "Why, Regulus, that was incredibly insightful of you, you know."

Regulus rolls his eyes, then shakes his head with a tiny smile and says, "Have a bad day,
James, then have a better one tomorrow."
 With that, he turns and slips into the Great Hall, and James stares after him, feeling as if his
bad day just came to an end and did a swift turn into a good one instead.

Chapter End Notes

james, babe...
friend.
🤨 u ok there, buddy? seems like you're getting a little...invested, my
regulus just trying to have clandestine meetings with his friends he's treating like
concubines, and there's james like: AHA! I'VE CAUGHT YOU! like, bestie, what did
you catch him doing??? 😭😭😭 pls he's so dumb, but i adore him.

also², not sirius and remus being drunk fools about each other. james a real one for
coming to their rescue, because a drunk kiss is not always the best idea between two
best friends. this, i can attest to. wish i had a james potter to save me from that 🙃

also³, mary and lily and marlene my beloveds <3

 ACT ONE: Part Three
Chapter Notes

this chapter is pure schmoop, to be honest. no warnings. enjoy ;)

EDIT: someone has requested i put a warning (which is always well within your right to
do; if anyone ever thinks there's something i should warn for that i didn't because i either
a) forgot to, or b) didn't think to, or c) didn't know to, always feel free to make the
request, or let me know; i never want anyone to be upset by something i wrote,
unintentionally or otherwise, so i always try to tag properly and provide proper warnings
before the chapters).

the warning is for regulus making commentary that is biphobic/panphobic. it comes

from a place from fear, as well as just...learning about how people can be different in
their queerness (he's a repressed gay wizard, he's learning), and it has very little to do
with him actually being panphobic/biphobic (he's not, he's just panicking), but this is
resolved in-chapter and expanded on more later, i promise.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"Expecto Patronum," Remus enunciates slowly, leaning forward on his elbows to watch
Sirius expectantly.

Sirius blows out a deep breath, then tries again. "Expecto Patronum!" Not even a wisp. Sirius
groans and lets his wand clatter to the table. "Why is this so bloody hard? Moony, what am I
doing wrong?"

"You just have to keep trying," Remus murmurs, with a gentle, encouraging smile towards
Sirius.

"I haven't picked it up either," Peter offers sympathetically.

"Yes, but you can form a shield, if not a full corporeal, at least. I can't even do that," Sirius
grits out, scowling.
James shares a look with Remus. It's unusual for Sirius to struggle this much with any bit of
magic, really. He generally picks things up really well, with an ease that tends to make most
people bitter, much like James himself. They don't have to study as much as most, which
they've perhaps taken for granted over the years. Remus and Peter are incredibly smart as
well, possibly in a superior way to Sirius and James, because they actually put in the effort to
be. When they run into difficulties, they know exactly how to work through them; James and
Sirius do not.

In this case, Remus has surpassed them all. It took him all of one lesson before he got the full
corporeal patronus, which honestly took James by surprise. Not because Remus isn't
absolutely fucking brilliant—because he is—but because it takes a very strong, very happy
memory to power the spell, and even James needed some time to locate one strong enough.
Remus has undoubtedly had a rough life, this is just a fact, so it was a little unexpected.
Although, upon reflection, maybe Remus' happy memories shine brighter because he has so
many other, darker memories to wrestle with.

James has only seen Remus' patronus once, as they all have, because Remus immediately
dashed it away as soon as he realized it was a wolf. James' patronus is a stag, much to his
delight. He loves his glowing Prongs and is quite proud of it. Peter is getting closer, going
from wisps to a full shield, so he's not far from getting it yet. Sirius, on the other hand…
Well, his wand hasn't so much as glowed even a bit, not once.

"You'll get it, mate," James says softly. "I'm sure of it."

"What if—" Sirius swallows thickly and looks down, his lips pressed into a thin line. He
fiddles restlessly with one of the books on the table. They're all in the library, tucked away
between shelves with muffling charms so Madame Pince won't come swooping down on
them. "What if something is wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you, Padfoot," Peter assures him instantly. "You just have to work at
it, is all. Is there anything wrong with me when I need time to work on things? When Remus
does? You can't be good at everything immediately, mate, there's just no way."

"No, I know. You're right. But I mean…" Sirius glances up, his voice lowering. "What if I
can't ever do it? What if the reason I can't is because there's something wrong in me?"
Remus flicks his gaze down to where Sirius puts his hand against his chest, then his gaze
snaps up, his voice startlingly firm when he says, "No, Sirius. Don't do that; don't even think
about going there. If I can do it, I know damn well you can."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius mumbles, genuinely confused by this.

"Hello? My furry little problem," Remus says, raising his eyebrows significantly. "If anyone
has something wrong inside them, then it's me."

"Oi!" Peter protests.

"That's not true, Remus," James denies sharply.

Sirius also looks displeased. "Don't insult Moony like that. You may not like him, but he's
Padfoot's best friend. I can't stand by and let you insult Padfoot's best friend."

"Oh, is that right?" Remus asks, lips twitching.

"It is," Sirius confirms solemnly.

Remus looks charmed, the fool. "Oh, shut up. That's not what I meant anyway. I'm just
saying, I'm literally classified as a dark creature, and I can do it. You can, Sirius. I know you
can. In fact, I know you will."

"You're classified that way because the idiots who classify you don't know you," Sirius
complains.

He's always a bit touchy about the classification of werewolves. When they had the lesson in
Defense, Sirius spelled the Professor's desk to hop around and let out a loud screech every
time the word 'dangerous' was used. Remus was in the Hospital Wing for the lessons, after a
moon, ironically enough. Sirius did all his essays for him, textbook perfect so he'd get full
marks, while he, James, and Peter refused to turn in any work themselves and took the
detentions with pride. Remus called them all idiots, but James knew he was touched.

"Sirius," Remus says with a sigh.

"No, I don't want to hear it," Sirius cuts in. "You're a fucking person, a wizard, a werewolf—
all of it's true, and none of it can change the fact that you're amazing, Remus. There's nothing
wrong inside you at all; you're made up of all the best things this world has to offer, and
probably things the world hasn't even discovered yet." Remus' face glows red, but Sirius is
still ranting, so he doesn't notice. "I, on the other hand, am a Black. I unfortunately have
Black blood flowing in my veins and can't escape it unless I'm dead. Pureblood, my arse.
Can't think of anything more rotted. What if that's what's wrong with me? What if—if the
darkness of my family is just...stained on me, or something mental like that?"

"Pads, I promise you this has nothing to do with them," James murmurs, his face softening.
"It's your patronus, not theirs. It's a part of you, and you're one the best people I know."

"Right, but what if there's something dark in me, because of them, because of—just because
of who I am and where I come from and what I'm capable of, and that's why?" Sirius insists,
sounding genuinely distressed.

James gets the feeling he's thinking about fifth year. That one specific event he's never
forgiven himself for—telling Snape how to get past the tree. It's been two years, and it still
lingers with all of them sometimes, in various ways. Remus, the most, of course. It's partially
the reason he was so devastated when confessing his feelings for Sirius to James last year,
because while he'd made the choice to forgive him and move past it, he hadn't quite let go of
it fully by that point.

It was a hard time for all of them. Peter was stressed to the max, James was the angriest he'd
ever been, and Remus had been furious as well, but above all, he was hurt. It had truly,
deeply hurt him. Sirius was isolated and fraying at the edges from the moment he fully
grasped what he'd done, because he originally hadn't grasped it at all. Sixteen years old,
impulsive, and completely unconscious of the impact he could have with one bad decision—
but he learned. They all learned.
Sirius hasn't quite looked at himself the same since. While he has no positive feelings for
Snape and never will—none of them do—the fact that he'd hurt Remus had altered him and
casted himself in a new, frightening light in his own mind. Between that, the many other
regrets he has to face just like everyone else, and his issues surrounding the family he comes
from, it leads to moments like this.

James wishes he had the words to reassure him, the wisdom to bring him a sense of peace,
but he doesn't even know where to start. He sees the best in the people he loves, Sirius among
them, and he'd happily let Sirius see himself the way he sees him if he could—all that love,
and pride, and fondness. He can't, and he doesn't have the words to soothe him, but
fortunately, Remus does.

"Sirius," Remus says gently, "we've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the
part we choose to act on; that's who we really are. I've never known someone who tries as
hard to act on the light as you. That's who you are."

Sirius promptly melts. Like butter over an open flame, he practically liquefies, drooping
down against the table with one elbow propped on it, his cheek resting in his palm as he
gazes at Remus like the most love-struck fool known to man. "Oh, why would you say that,
Moony? I'm going to remember that forever now and think about it all the time."

"He's becoming self-aware," Peter whispers in James' ear, and James stifles a laugh.

"Try again," Remus murmurs, his voice warm as he picks Sirius' wand back up and passes it
to him.

Sirius tries again. He manages a few wisps this time, which disappear quickly due to his
excitement with the development. He reaches out and grabs Remus' arm, shaking him a little
as he bounces in his chair. "Oh, oh, that's brilliant! I was thinking of what you just said, and
look at that, I've gotten something. Remus, you're my happy memory!"

"Am I? Looks like you're going to need something stronger, but you're on the right track,"
Remus mumbles, ducking his head as he hunches over a book, most likely trying to hide the
way his face turns red again. James sees it, though. That's fair, because things just tumble out
of Sirius' mouth at times that are so far from platonic that it's nearly unbearable.
Sometimes, Sirius and Remus aren't irritating. Sometimes they're like this. Sometimes they're
sweet and wholesome and so well-suited that James feels so certain that they'll end up
together, happy and bickering until they're old and grey.

James tucks a grin away and looks around the room to leave them to it, Peter chewing
distractedly on the end of his quill as he also grants them their moment by focusing on his
work. The library is fairly sparse at this time of day, only generally occupied by sixth and
seventh years with free time slots, seeing as they can drop classes. Most tables are empty, so
it makes it easy for James to catch sight of Regulus.

He isn't sure when Regulus came in, because he wasn't there when James came in—he would
have noticed. But he's there now, leaning over parchment as he dips his quill, eyebrows
furrowed in concentration. Before James even knows what he's doing, he's standing up right
out of his chair.

"Alright, Prongs? Need a book?" Sirius asks, looking up.

"No, it's just—Regulus," James explains, gesturing to the boy in question, and Sirius cranes
his head forward to see.

Sirius chuckles. "Aw, look at Reggie hard at work. Want to go bother him, mate?"

"Desperately. Coming?" James says.

"Sure." Sirius shrugs and hops up to join him. Remus and Peter shake their heads,
exasperated.

In perfect sync, James and Sirius make it to Regulus' table, dropping into chairs across from
him and making him lift his head and immediately sigh. "Both of you today?"
"Well, hello to you too, Reg," Sirius says, snorting. "Nice to see you as well, brother o'mine."

"The feeling is not mutual. Go away, I'm busy," Regulus mutters, frowning down at his
parchment. He pauses, then looks up at Sirius. "Wait. You wouldn't happen to know what
family achillea ptarmica is a part of, would you?"

"I don't even know what that is."

"Sneezewort. Sprout said it, but I didn't hear, and I can't fucking find it anywhere."

"Yarrow," James and Sirius say at the same time.

Regulus blinks, then looks down and quickly makes note of it, humming. "Alright, you're not
useless after all, Sirius."

"I also said it?" James mumbles, offended.

"His voice is less grating after years of constant exposure, since he never shuts up, but yours
is not, so I frequently tune you out," Regulus informs him casually, reaching out to drag a
book closer to him.

"What did I tell you? He's so fucking mean to me," James declares, beaming as he gestures
wildly at Regulus.

Sirius snorts. "Why do you look so happy about it?"

"I don't know. It's sort of funny when he does it," James admits, and Sirius chokes on a
laugh.
"You mean like—like a tiny kitten is funny when it pounces on you, but it's no bigger than
your hand? Is that what you mean? Please let that be what you mean," Sirius says, delighted.

James grins. "Well, now that you mention it…"

"If you're quite finished," Regulus cuts in frostily, "go find something else to do, why don't
you?"

"Nah, we'd rather annoy you," Sirius informs him easily, reaching out to flick the end of
Regulus' quill. "How are things with you, then? Haven't seen you much."

"We're in separate houses and different years," Regulus points out dryly. "Besides, some of us
actually spend time doing their assignments."

"Swot," Sirius announces immediately. "But really, how is it?"

Regulus sighs and puts his quill down. "It's fine, Sirius."

"You wouldn't tell me if it wasn't, though, would you?"

"You already know, so why bother asking?"

Sirius' lips press into a thin line. "Is it bad in the common room? Are those in your dorm
being shits, or were you right about them, from what you said over the summer?"

"Barty and Evan are fine, like I said they would be."

"You're conveniently not mentioning the common room."

"I don't often go into the common room anymore unless I'm walking through it," Regulus
tells him, jaw clenching.

"My own brother, a fucking pariah," Sirius mutters, his nostrils flaring. "Reggie—"

"Listen, do you hear me complaining?" Regulus snaps, narrowing his eyes. "I don't care,
Sirius. Honestly, if I'd known that it would get people to stay the fuck away from me, I would
have announced my affinity for cock myself."

"Right, but—but people are being cruel, surely?" Sirius insists, waving his hands around
wildly. "If you'd just tell me, instead of pretending like nothing is happening, then I'd—"

"You'd do something stupid, like punch someone, and I don't need you to do that," Regulus
interrupts. "Don't think for a second that I stand by and do nothing, because I don't. Yes,
people are cruel, Sirius. Of course they are. So am I."

"You—what?" Sirius blinks.

Regulus scoffs. "Do you honestly believe I'm getting bullied with no retaliation? Wilkes
insulted and tripped me. Do you know what I did, Sirius? I popped him into the lake
surrounding the dormitory and waited until his friends apologized to bring him back. The
merpeople almost dragged him off. Do you know how many people have bothered me
since?" He leans forward, gaze sharp. "Take a wild guess."

"Fucking hell, Reg, how'd you even get him in there?" Sirius breathes out, eyes bulging.

"It's a small matter of the placement of banishing charms and one's own intent behind what
they consider rubbish," Regulus replies, waving his hand. "Fairly simple."
"That's really…" James can't find the words to describe it, left astonished, awed, and slightly
horrified—but only slightly, seeing as it sounds like Wilkes had it coming. He shifts a bit in
his chair, scratching the side of his neck. He feels hot, like someone moved a fireplace closer
to him, except there isn't one next to him at all. He knew he put on too many jumpers; he
goes right ahead and sheds one layer right then, quite sure that he's about to start sweating.

"Well, you know what?" Sirius bangs his hand down to the table and nods in satisfaction.
"Better that than you being beaten and—and whatever else I was admittedly a little worried
about. Carry on. Give them hell, Reggie."

"Most people just leave me be."

"Even your friends, I've noticed. Some friends they are."

"Oh, James didn't tell you?" Regulus asks, eyebrows shooting up, and Sirius instantly turns to
James, startled.

"Keeping secrets from me, mate?"

James frowns at Regulus, confused. "What? No. Of course not. What are you on about?"

"Evan?" Regulus says slowly, eyes narrowing.

"Oh. Right." James opens and closes his mouth. Honestly, he'd forgotten all about Evan the
moment he realized that Regulus wasn't dating him, and didn't fancy him. Shaking his head,
James looks at Sirius. "Regulus is being friends with Evan in secret, apparently, because his
dad is shit or something."

"You're keeping your friends a secret now?" Sirius asks, audibly disapproving.
Regulus huffs. "You've met Mr. Rosier. I'm not letting Evan put up with his wrath if it gets
back to him that his son associates with someone who's bent."

"And Barty?"

"Mm, his dad is different. Less about social standing and more about legality when it comes
to these matters. Mr. Crouch would be worried that his son would end up gay as well and
make him look bad, so...well, that's how that's going. Barty asked if he could snog me in front
of the entire Great Hall, but I said no. I'm the only one with sense out of my friends."

"I take offense to that," says a girl who throws herself down in the seat next to Regulus. She
has blonde hair and a Slytherin tie wrapped around her head and Ravenclaw tie at her throat,
flipped the wrong way over her robes.

"Oh, this one. We like this one," Sirius whispers to James.

"Who is this one?" James whispers back.

"Pandora, that's who," Pandora answers with a mild smile, but there's something sharp in her
gaze, something knowing. She holds her hand out to him; there's a tiny drawing of a butterfly
on her wrist that flies around in circles, a little faded on one of the wings like she ran out of
ink towards the end. "It's nice to finally meet you, James."

James blinks and reaches out to shake her hand. "You know me? Or, of me, I mean."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Pandora says, nodding, and her grip on his hand gets tighter and
tighter. "You're Quidditch captain of the Gryffindor team, and Head Boy, so why wouldn't
I?"

"Er, brilliant," James replies, his voice strained as his face contorts. Pandora squeezes his
hand so tightly that he feels like his knuckles are grinding together. "Ah, that's—a strong grip
you have, Pandora. Do you—do you mind, um—"
"Pandora," Regulus hisses, and just like that, Pandora drops James' hand with a twinkle in
her eye.

"Ow, fuck," James mumbles, flexing his fingers and looking over at Sirius in dismay.

Pandora offers her hand to Sirius. "I suppose we haven't officially met either, have we,
Sirius?"

"Ah, you know, who needs formalities?" Sirius says weakly, glancing warily at her hand
before smiling at her cautiously.

"Coward," James mutters, and Sirius elbows him.

"Well, I have something to say," Pandora announces, dropping her hand and swiveling to face
Regulus.

"Alright," Regulus says. "Go on."

"Sickly he likely seems hedgeway sincere of, but juice I drink still and don't hail trust bury
him," Pandora replies without missing a beat, holding his gaze.

Regulus sighs. "You worry too much."

"I above was hanging there to when gallantly you most were fine having all a very panic.
Yes, of my course when I trot will lose worry," Pandora retorts, looking exasperated.

"Stop fussing. It's unseemly," Regulus mutters, rolling his eyes as he reaches up and tugs the
tie she has tied around her head. It unravels in his palm. "And stop stealing my bloody ties."
"I feel like I just had a stroke," James breathes out, his eyes bouncing back and forth between
Pandora and Regulus.

"Genuinely, I thought I was dying," Sirius agrees, looking just as incredulous as James feels.
"Regulus, do you actually know what she said? You got something from that?"

"I know exactly what she said," Regulus tells them, and there isn't an ounce of teasing in his
tone.

"I too will crumbled run and out all of fine words," Pandora says, raising her eyebrows at
Regulus. "If long you're might finished, what can have we see go? I heavily want for to
gently sit and by while the rippling lake."

"Yes, yes, alright," Regulus mumbles, lips twitching as he starts gathering his things at the
same time that Pandora stands up, looking pleased.

James' eyebrows furrow. "Somehow, they're communicating, Padfoot. How are they doing
that?"

"I don't know, Prongs. I really don't know," Sirius says gravely.

"Bye, Sirius." Regulus' lips twitch as he lifts his bag to put his strap over his shoulder. He
pauses after he stands and pushes in his chair, then sighs again. "Bye, James."

"Oh, all you must do by have so it falls bad in for winding him up, Regulus," Pandora chokes
out, laughing, and Regulus shoves her lightly as they start to walk away. She shoves him back
just as gently, and away they go.

"You know, we came over here to fuck with him, but I feel like we were the ones fucked
with," Sirius muses, frowning.
"Seems that way, doesn't it?" James agrees.

Sirius pauses, then chuckles, his face softening. "Nice to know he's doing alright, though, at
least. He dropped a boy into the fucking lake, James."

"I heard."

"Well. Never cross a Black. That's a lesson for you."

James tugs at his collar. "Noted."

Christmas hols sneak up on them when they're not paying attention, and James can hardly
believe that they're so close to bringing in 1978. Merlin, how time flies.

James doesn't realize that Regulus isn't coming until he makes the comment that he and Sirius
have to introduce him to Bowie—a comment that makes Remus perk up instantly—and
Sirius looks at him oddly before slowly explaining that Regulus decided to stay at Hogwarts.

James is unreasonably betrayed by this.

"That doesn't make any sense," James blurts out. "You're his brother. Why wouldn't he want
to spend the hols with you?"

"Mate, he's never had the choice to stay back at Hogwarts before," Sirius tells him, frowning.
"Mother and Father always made us come back. So, yeah, he gets the choice this year. He
plans to come for Easter, though, and well—his friend Barty usually stays back. Doesn't like
his father, so he spends the hols at Hogwarts. Makes sense that Reg would want to, too."
So, the hols are starkly empty of one Regulus Black, much to James' annoyance. How the
fuck is he supposed to work on his plan—which has admittedly been pushed to the
background as of late—when he's missing the prime opportunity of two blissfully
uninterrupted weeks? Apparently, he won't be.

Nonetheless, the hols are lovely. He loves Christmas with his family; they don't celebrate,
especially not traditionally, but they love the excuse to get together and have a good time.
Peter and Remus come over around the full, and they all run on the grounds with Moony,
who's enticed by the less familiar setting. It's happened before, but only twice, and never with
Padfoot there. Effie and Monty put up wards around the perimeter and spend the night away;
when, at first, Remus felt guilty for running them out of their own home, Monty and Effie
had made it very clear that they quite enjoyed their time alone, complete with elbow nudges
and waggled eyebrows that made James roar with laughter and Remus turn bright red.

Moony, for all of Remus' issues with him, is a gentle creature when allowed to roam and
Remus isn't in strop beforehand. He likes Padfoot best, without a doubt, but Prongs is the one
who keeps him in line—likely the threat of antlers. Wormtail is good at distracting him when
he's getting into something he shouldn't, or trying to head in a direction they don't want him
in. James doubts he'll ever get over the surreality of the sight of a rat perched on top of a
werewolf's head, but Peter likes to ride there, and Moony never seems to mind.

In any case, by daybreak, it's actually quite easy to herd Moony into the house, and they try
to get him up to the spare room Remus is staying in. He gets distracted by Sirius' open door,
though, and promptly heads right in there instead. Climbs onto Sirius' bed. Flops down.
Refuses to move.

Padfoot's tail wags.

They've learned by now not to leave Moony alone until just before the reverse
transformation, or he'll get agitated and bite or scratch himself, or both. To circumvent this,
Padfoot hops onto the bed beside Moony, burying his snout between his paws the moment
Moony immediately lifts his head and dumps it over on his back instead. Prongs clomps over
by the window, settling down with his head turned to watch the sun rise, and Wormtail
scurries up to settle in between his antlers, presumably to sleep until they have to leave.
When it's time, Prongs raises up with a loud snort, and Padfoot's tail twitches, one eye
cracking open. Moony is asleep on him, so he has to drag himself out, careful not to wake
him. As quiet as a stag, rat, and dog can be, they make their way out, and they don't change
back until Moony releases the first canine whine, signaling the transformation. James shuts
the door quickly and tosses up the proper silencing charms; Remus doesn't like for them to
hear him in pain.

"It's sort of awful, you know," Peter murmurs sadly. "Just… Some of his worst nights have
been good ones for us."

"Yeah, but...Moony deserves good nights, too," Sirius mumbles, his eyebrows pinched
together.

Sometimes, James is reminded that Sirius loves all of Remus. Not just Remus every day of
the month except for one, but all days, and all nights. He loves Moony, too.

Since it was such a good moon, Remus recovers well over the next few days, which puts him
in a remarkably good mood. Remus in a remarkably good mood means Sirius is in a
remarkably good mood, which—world of wonders—puts James in a remarkably good mood,
and Peter feeds off all of them. In other words, they have a fucking blast for the rest of the
break. They bring in 1978 like four young men who only have one night to live to the fullest,
while still believing that they're all going to live forever.

On the train ride back to Hogwarts, James finds time to wander into the compartment that
holds Mary, Marlene, and Lily. He takes the seat next to Lily with a smile, which she briefly
returns as she looks up from her book. She has her hair pulled into a loose bun, her wand
stuck through it, and James has to resist the urge to flick it playfully.

"Good break?" James asks.

Lily looks up with a smile again, but this time it's tight. "If I'm honest, not really, no. Petunia
was—awful."

"Oh," James says, grimacing. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Can I ask you something?" Lily murmurs, her voice getting lower as she leans closer. He
nods. "Do you think…? Look, I'm trusting you to be as unbiased about this as possible, yeah?
Do you think it's—it's unfair that I'm a witch and she's not?"

James cocks his head, thoughtful. "I think I'm probably not the best person to have an opinion
on something like this, seeing as I don't really know what it's like on the other side of it, but
since you're asking… Well, maybe being a witch or a Muggle has very little to do with magic
in general. Someone said to me that magic is in everything, in everyone, even Muggles. We
just don't understand it yet."

"Oh." Lily blinks, visibly startled. "Well, that's insightful. It's true, too, really. I am on both
sides of it, and—and there is a lot of magic in the world where you'd least expect to find it."

"I believe you," James tells her. "If your sister can't see the magic in herself because she's too
busy hating you for yours, that's not your fault, Lily. She's only making herself unhappy."

Lily swallows. "She—she wanted to come to Hogwarts, you know. Before she found out she
couldn't, and then she was bitter about it and made it out to be stupid."

"And how many lovely Muggle things do you miss out on because you're here with us?"
James asks. "You don't let it turn you hateful. You don't blame her for it."

"If I could have shared it with her, I would have," Lily whispers. "My magic, I mean."

"She has to find her own," James says gently.

"I fear she never will," Lily replies, blinking fast and hard.

James sighs and holds out his arm in offering, not entirely sure if that's what she needs or not.
It must be, because she shuffles over and leans against his side. Her hair smells nice and
tickles his neck. "You can't blame yourself for that."

"Thank you," Lily murmurs.

"Anytime," James promises, and he means it.

Lily hums. "You're a good friend, James, do you know that?"

"It's been mentioned once or twice," James says with a chuckle, and Lily laughs with him,
soft and quiet.

They sit like that for a bit, and James doesn't read into it, knowing better and also just… Well,
nothing he said or did was in the endeavor to be anything other than a friend comforting her.
Really, they've come so far from where they started. Lily hasn't insulted him in nearly a year.

Eventually, Lily peels herself away from him to go back to her book, seeming more settled,
and James springs forward to dump himself between Mary and Marlene. He throws an arm
around each of them and smacks a kiss to the side of each of their heads, happily catching up
with them about what they did on their break, telling them a bit about his.

He doesn't ever actually make it back to his compartment before he has to go with Lily to do
their Head Boy and Head Girl duties, so he doesn't see Remus, Peter, and Sirius again until
hours later. In the time James was gone, Sirius and Remus must have gotten into an
argument, because Peter gives him alarmed eyes when he strolls into the dorm, and the
silence between Remus and Sirius feels spiky.

James makes the wise decision to hide away in his bed, and the very first thing he does is
grab the map, holding his breath as he searches for Regulus' name, hoping he'll be out late
again.

He's in the dungeons, and James falls asleep as disappointed by the lack of him as he has
been since the break started.
"Oi, Black!" James calls, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste to jog up to Regulus, who's
walking past the Whomping Willow towards the greenhouses. Regulus glances back and
doesn't stop, but his stride slows just a bit. James is still a little breathless when he reaches
him and asks, "Did you miss me?"

"No," Regulus says.

"Surely you must have, even just a bit," James declares, grinning over at him. "How was your
break?"

"Blissfully free of you," Regulus replies casually. "Yours?"

"Tragically empty of you," James admits. "Why did you stay back anyway? Sirius said for
your mate, Barty?"

Regulus hums and squints up at the sky. "He's part of the reason, I suppose. I also just wanted
to see what it was like. I never had the chance before."

"Did you like it?"

"More than I thought I would. The castle is so much nicer with less people in it."

James chuckles. "Well, you should come on the next break. We had fun; you would have,
too."

"I practically promised Sirius I would. He's ridiculously emotional at times, you know. I think
it hurt his feelings that I wanted to stay back, at least until I explained why."
"Probably. But I also think he understood. If anyone's going to, I reckon it'd have to be him."

Regulus nods. "It would be, yes."

"Where are you going now?" James asks.

"I have to pick some rose petals," Regulus explains. "Slughorn showed us amortentia, and
even though we can't brew it yet, he wants us to gather available ingredients and write about
them, so this is my assignment at the moment."

"Ah, yes, that pesky little potion," James mutters, wrinkling his nose. "Caused quite a stir in
our class last year. We have to brew it for our N.E.W.T. Levels."

"Smelled Lily, did you?"

"Her perfume was among the things I smelled, but there was also my mum's sticky buns and
—well, you know how it smells before a storm? The smell of rain heavy in the air? There
was that, too. I tried to dunk my head in the cauldron."

"Did you actually?" Regulus asks, laughing softly.

James scratches the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. "I did, yeah. We were all in a bit of
a trance, I suppose. But Remus… He stumbled back the moment he caught a whiff, busted
open his head and everything. Sirius had to cart him off to the Hospital Wing."

"I'm assuming he smelled Sirius," Regulus muses. James says nothing, hands stuffed in his
pockets. He'd bite his own tongue off before he'd spill Remus' secrets—or anyone of his
friends', for that matter. Regulus seems to respect it enough to let it go. "What did Sirius
smell?"
"He never got to smell anything before Remus fell."

"Ah. Well, it would have been convenient if he had and put it together that he's arse over head
for Lupin."

"Honestly, I think it could be spelled out in big flashing lights right in front of him, and he
still wouldn't realize," James grumbles under his breath.

Regulus snorts. "In the matters of the heart, Sirius has always been woefully blind. I almost
envy that level of obliviousness. What did Lily smell?"

"Not me, she was sure to let me know," James tells him, lips twitching. "No. Hm, if I
remember correctly, she smelled a freshly cut lawn, Mary's lotion, and something...spicy, I
think? Some sort of pepper, I'm not sure."

"Mary...Macdonald?"

"Yeah. Know her?"

"Sirius mentioned her before, I think. Wait, so Lily smelled her lotion, and no one thought
anything of it?" Regulus asks.

James blinks. "Well, no, I suppose we didn't. We all just thought she liked the lotion. I'm
pretty sure Mary still gifts it to her every year."

"Ah, of course. It's the lotion she likes, because that's what the Love Potion reveals, because
Merlin forbid people fancy someone of the same sex," Regulus mutters, scoffing.

"Well, it's just meant to attract someone. It doesn't necessarily mean that she—I mean, she
could. She might have, but as far as I know, they're just friends," James says. "What did you
smell, then?"
"Oh, like I'd tell you."

"What?! I told you!"

"Yes, which was well within your right, just as it's well within mine to not return the favor."

"Oh, go on, I won't tell anyone. Reg, Reggie, Regulus, Reginald, Reginaldus, Regenfrithu, R
—"

"Regenfrithu?" Regulus cuts in incredulously.

"Oh, why thank you for acknowledging my existence, Mr. Regenfrithu," James says,
grinning.

Regulus cuts him a sharp look. "Don't."

"Tell me what you smelled, and I won't."

"Piss off."

"Don't be like that, Regenfrithu."

"Potter—"

"Yes, Regenfrithu?" James prompts, a laugh building up in his throat, making it very hard to
keep a straight face.
"Oh, fuck you," Regulus mutters, scowling. "It was the way the air smells when it's really
cold, smoked wood from a fireplace, and—" He works his jaw, eyes drifting shut.
"Eucalyptus."

"What's so shameful about eucalyptus?" James asks, amused despite himself. Regulus looks
grumpy, and James has to fight hard not to reach out and ruffle his hair, or poke his cheek.

"Nothing," Regulus snaps.

"Can I poke your cheek?"

"What? No. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

James huffs. "Nothing. You're just—I don't know. Like, cute."

"Cute?" Regulus repeats flatly, his eyes snapping open.

"When you're all…" James raises his hand and circles it to gesture at him. "I don't know. It's
sort of just...cute."

"You're back to the fake boyfriend thing again, aren't you?" Regulus says, shaking his head
and turning away.

"No, actually, but now that you mention it…" James rushes to match his stride, not even sure
when they stopped walking to begin with. He hadn't even noticed. "I never did tell you what I
thought your last reason for saying no was."

"You had more?"

"Yeah."

Regulus huffs out a quiet laugh, tilting his head up to look at the sky. "Of course you did.
Right. And what's the last?"

"You're worried we won't have a spark," James announces, and Regulus' eyebrows climb
high. "As in, there won't be any sort of chemistry to make it believable to the masses."

"Well, it's typically difficult for two men to have a spark when one of them isn't gay, so—"

"I'm not not gay."

"I—" Regulus nearly stumbles because he comes to a halt so abrupt that his foot finds uneven
ground. He looks at James in what can only be described as pure dismay. "What did you just
say? Not not gay? James, what does that even mean? You either are, or you're not. That's a
double negative, you fucking—"

"No, because Mary says you can be both or something, and she's never wrong," James
interrupts earnestly. "And, well, it hardly matters to me, if I'm honest. I mean, if Lily was a
bloke, I'd still be in love with her. Him? You know what I mean."

"That's—that's not the same thing, James," Regulus insists, and this is the most distressed
James has ever seen him. "Your bleeding heart doesn't make you gay, alright? Or any other
form of queer. Lily isn't a bloke. You don't fancy blokes or want to shag them, so you're not.
You're just not. You can't be."

James makes a high-pitched noise and lifts his hand to wiggle it back and forth in a so-so
motion. "But I sort of am, though, if you want to get technical. I mean, do I have to actually
shag the blokes, or just find them attractive enough that I would? Because, the way I
understand it is, it's about who you'd shag or fall in love with or—whatever, you know what I
mean."
"Right, and that means real blokes, Potter, not just some fake version of the girl you fancy
because you have a heart of fucking gold," Regulus snaps, nostrils flaring.

"I know," James emphasizes.

"So, you're not."

"You're not listening to me."

"I'm trying very hard not to, because this is—you're ridiculous. You can't be, do you
understand? It's not—it's not a fucking game, James. It's not…" Regulus swallows. "It's not
something you joke about, not ever."

"I'm not joking," James insists, frustrated now.

Regulus clenches his jaw. "You fancy Lily Evans. You've never even dated anyone because
you've always fancied her."

"That doesn't make me blind, Regulus. And I've snogged other girls, you know."

"Yes. Exactly. Girls."

"But that doesn't mean I wouldn't snog boys," James bites out.

"Stop teasing," Regulus snaps.

"I'm not. I wouldn't," James says defensively. "I'm just saying, I would snog a boy. I'm sure it
would be lovely."

Regulus narrows his eyes at him. "Thinking it would be nice isn't the same as wanting it,
James."

"Well, you're not me, so you can't tell me what it is I want or don't want," James retorts
stiffly. "Actually, how would you feel if I told you that you weren't gay because—because
you don't fancy a bloke, hm? Isn't that annoying?"

"You're not understanding. James," Regulus stresses, smacking the back of his hand against
his other open palm, "I would willingly suck cock. I want to suck cock. I've dreamed—"

"Whose?" James cuts in.

"I—what?" Regulus blurts out, rearing back a bit.

James crosses his arms. "Whose cock? Is it a specific person?"

"That's none of your—I mean, Merlin, shut up," Regulus chokes out, visibly flustered.
"That's not the point."

"Oh, but it is. You're carrying on interrogating me, like I need to prove myself to you, so I
suppose you're meant to do the same," James grumbles, waving a hand lazily, circling his
wrist in the universal carry on motion. "So, who is it? Whose cock do you dream about, Reg?
Give me all the filthy details."

"Don't even fucking compare. Fuck you. I lost my entire life to this, and you? You fancy a
pretty girl, who you'll probably marry and have a child with, and you'll be happy. But me? I
can't do that. I can't, Potter, that's the difference."
"I know it's not the same, but that doesn't give you the right to argue with me about who I am.
You don't get to decide that for me, and I don't have to prove shit to you."

"Fine," Regulus snarls, tossing his hands up. "Don't, then!"

"Fine, I won't," James says sharply.

"Not that you could," Regulus throws over his shoulder as he turns around to stomp off, eyes
flashing, his face flushed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" James calls out harshly, surging forward to march off after
him, his blood boiling in a way he hasn't felt since… Well, actually, he's not sure he's ever
felt anything like this before. It's pure adrenaline.

Regulus scoffs in derision as he swings around the back of the greenhouse to where the rose
bushes are. "Well, it's not like you can do anything to prove it, being in love with Lily."

"I'm not dating her yet."

"How presumptuous of you, Potter. Shocking."

"You're a fucking prick," James declares.

"Yes, and you're wrong about literally everything most of the time," Regulus grinds out, his
teeth clenched, "but you were right about one thing, at least. No fucking spark between us,
because there can't be, seeing as you're not—"

"I could prove it," James argues. "In fact, I could prove it and assure you a spark is possible
at the same time."
"If you—" Regulus works his jaw. "Potter, I swear to Merlin, if you offer to snog me, I'll—"

James steps forward into Regulus' space, unperturbed when Regulus immediately straightens
up, his wand practically materializing into his hand, the tip pressed tight under James' chin.
James snaps his hand up and plucks it right out of Regulus' fingers—he really should know
better to keep a firm grip on it. Carelessly, James drops it to the ground and keeps stepping
forward every time Regulus steps back, until he bumps into the side of the greenhouse, and
then James braces his palm against it next to Regulus head and stares at him.

Regulus stares back. He's repeatedly, convulsively swallowing, the pulse at his neck going so
fast that James can actually see it fluttering under the pale line of his throat. James watches it
for a second, then drags his gaze back up to scan Regulus' face, tracking his eyes over his
features one-at-a-time. The arch of his eyebrows; the high rise of his cheekbones; the long
slope of his nose; the splotchy red of his cheeks; that sharp line of his jaw that bends at a
cutting curve and concave at the bolt of it. His lips. They're parted. Wet. He must have licked
them.

"I'm offering," James murmurs.

"An offer doesn't prove anything," Regulus rasps, sounding hoarse. His words are a
contradiction to his demeanor—his wide-eyed gaze and tense shoulders. "I don't believe
you."

"You're being infuriating on purpose."

"Confidence has nothing to do with—with want, James."

"How bold for someone who doesn't look very confident at the moment," James points out.
"Go on, then. Since you're the fucking expert on want, Regulus, what about you? What is it
that you want, hm?"

"I want you to prove it," Regulus whispers, his breath hitching in his throat as he takes in a
stuttered inhale.
James hums. "I wouldn't, you know, just for the principle of the whole thing, but you've
asked so nicely."

"I can be nice sometimes," Regulus mumbles.

"Me too. I can be very, very nice when I want to be," James says, wrapping his mouth around
the vowels and going slow so that his teeth catch at his bottom lip and his tongue curls into
the roof of his mouth—and there it is. Regulus' gaze flickers down to watch him speak,
riveted by the sight.

That's all James needs, really.

If he's honest with himself, James knows his relationship to his desire is looser than most
people—not so rigid, at least. It genuinely doesn't matter to him what someone looks like,
whether they're a bloke or a girl; if he fancies them, then he fancies them, and that's that. It
just happens that he fancies Lily, and she's a girl. So be it.

But, the thing is, James is sort of curious now. Because Regulus is so close. Because maybe
James had a little harmless crush on Remus in third year, seeing as having a crush on Remus
is probably some sort of rite of passage. Because maybe James thought the sun set and rose at
Frank's command for the entirety of his fourth year, and his hands would get sweaty when
Frank came out of the shower stall in nothing but a towel after Quidditch matches. Because
maybe he's never really thought in too much depth that he was until he had someone telling
him he wasn't.

James hasn't ever really needed to think about it much, seeing as he fancies Lily, and he'd
thought that it sort of disqualified him until Mary said people can like both, or all, or
whatever without it depending on anything but the person. Because that's James. That's
always been James.

He doesn't have to prove that. He knows it, and no one can tell him differently, not even
Regulus. Although, James thinks he understands why Regulus would feel the need to. Like
he said, he's in a position where he can't exist safely day-to-day the same way James can and
does. But, even still, James won't let Regulus take this away from him, and he doesn't need to
prove a damn thing to him or anyone else.

That being said, Regulus' mouth is right there.

And, well, James does love a challenge, especially one he knows he can and will win. And
he's so curious about it, about him, about all of it. And he can't help but want to prove it, even
if he knows he doesn't have to.

It doesn't feel very monumentous, at first, not to lift his free hand not braced by Regulus'
head to gently cup his chin and nudge his face up to dip in and kiss him. It's really quite
simple. Unremarkable, even. Just a short brush of lips, a touch so innocent that James' brain
scoffs at him and decides it doesn't even count. His brain insists on another.

Fortunately for him, Regulus hasn't moved, his face still tilted up in the prime kissing
position. So, once again, it's really very simple for James to just duck back in and kiss him a
second time, firmer this time. It's a slow-start of a kiss, one that lingers for long enough that
the only option is to either deepen it naturally or pull away. It's a crawl, though, a tentative
press of warm lips, the shaky exhale James genuinely can't locate the source of, whether it's
him or Regulus.

It does feel monumentous, then, when James slips his hand from Regulus' chin to cup the side
of his neck and listen to his brain when it insists that he has to deepen the kiss, because the
option of pulling away is just—stupid, honestly. Sometimes, when his mind tells him
something is stupid, he ignores it. This is not one of those times.

James isn't entirely sure what happens, or what shifts, but something does. He suspects it's the
first breach of tongue to mouth, because he takes the immediate opportunity as soon as the
seam of Regulus' lips split open. Whether it's an invitation or not, James feels very
welcomed, because Regulus unfurls rapidly, blooming like the rosebuds around them.

The next thing James knows, Regulus' hand is in his hair, and he's being snogged quite
fiercely. So fiercely, in fact, that his eyebrows fly up as he overbalances and accidentally
pushes Regulus against the side of the greenhouse with enough momentum that Regulus'
back collides with a dull thud. James doesn't even have a split second to be worried, because
Regulus makes a quiet noise against his mouth and drags him closer with force, and oh,
James is going. Merlin, he's going.

James' brain stops telling him things, which is just as well, because he doubts he'd be able to
listen if it were. He loses track of time and the sense of anything other than the inviting heat
of Regulus' mouth, and shit, it's so inviting? Genuinely, bafflingly alluring, in fact. Like—like
he's here now, trapped, and there's no getting away until Regulus frees him, but he's one of
those fools who feel at home here, so he doesn't even want to leave. I'm going to live here, he
thinks, dazed.

He's evicted immediately after, much to his dismay, because Regulus turns his head to suck in
a deep breath. His fingers spasm in James' hair, clenching and sending a trail of heat directly
down his spinal column. What else is James meant to do besides chase Regulus' mouth? He
catches him in another kiss that plucks a low noise—a soft moan, if he's generous; a
whimper, if he's not—out of him that James can feel vibrate right through his whole body.

Again, Regulus breaks away and chokes out, "Alright. Yeah, alright, James. You've—you've
made your point."

"Have I? Are you sure?" James mutters distractedly, ducking his head to find better uses for
his mouth along Regulus' jaw, inhaling sharply when Regulus hisses and tugs on his hair
reflexively. He breathes in the smell of something that's citrus and spice, like mangoes with
cayenne pepper; it's enticing enough that James presses closer, mouthing further down until
he makes it to that pulse point he saw fluttering earlier. It's still doing so, but now James is
trying to bite it.

"Alright, alright, I get it," Regulus blurts out, his voice a harsh croak. "Fine. Fine, you were
right, and I was wrong. Be gay. Be not not gay. That's okay. Fucking shit, it is so okay."

That, for some reason, breaks through the fog. Likely because it makes James laugh. His
brain kicks back into gear, the cogs recently rusted over creaking as they start to turn again.
He stays where he is for a moment, sort of going limp against Regulus as he laughs
helplessly.

It takes him a bit to finally calm down and pull away, but he doesn't go very far, mostly
because he can't. He's startled by the sight of Regulus, blinking slowly, because he's all
swollen mouth and bright eyes and flushed cheeks and rucked up hair. He looks—well,
frankly, he looks rather thoroughly snogged. The sight has it catching up to James that this is
his fault. Belatedly, he thinks oh, I did that.

He did, in fact, do that. Really did it, too, so there's no denying he has proven his point. Look
at him, an overachiever. Can't ever do anything halfway, can he?

Regulus clears his throat and gently untangles his fingers from James' hair, then blows out a
deep breath and leans back against the greenhouse. The back of his skull lands against it with
a quiet tap, and he blinks once, twice, a third time before his eyes just sink shut. He breathes.

"Alright?" James ventures cautiously, taking a step back and leaning over to scoop up
Regulus' wand from the ground.

"Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine," Regulus mumbles, still not opening his eyes. "I've just never—well,
I haven't ever—"

James' head snaps up. "You've never snogged anyone?"

Regulus cracks open one eye lazily, like a cat. "James, when would I, as a gay man, have the
opportunity to snog someone?"

"You said you weren't the only gay person in Hogwarts."

"I'm not. As we've just proven."

"No, I meant—I thought you knew that because you knew someone who's gay," James
clarifies.

"I do," Regulus admits. "I know a few different queer people, but I was referencing someone
specific at the time. A girl. Shockingly, this left us less than compatible, if you'd believe it."
 James snorts weakly. "Yeah, alright, that's fair. Well, you know, good for you. You're quite
good at it. Snogging."

"Thank you," Regulus says softly, eyes shut again.

"Right. Er, sorry about snatching your wand," James mumbles awkwardly, and he holds it out
with a sheepish smile.

Regulus' eyes pop open. He immediately leans forward to grab it, then retreats back to his
place against the greenhouse. He seems quite content to be there. "Don't do it again."

"Hold it tighter next time," James retorts.

"Next time," Regulus grumbles, "I'll hex you before you ever get that close."

"Really?" James asks, stepping forward, and Regulus jerks back, his elbow banging into the
side of the greenhouse. He curses sharply under his breath, and James tucks his lips in to hide
his smile. "Oh, yeah, a lot of hexing happening here."

The following body-bind is sort of earned, James thinks as his whole body locks up and he
tips over. He internally cringes and groans when he hits the ground, but he can't show it.
Regulus peers down at him for a moment, then shakes his head, proceeds to step over him,
gather a few rose petals, and leave him right where he's at.

It takes Professor Sprout an hour to find him.

Chapter End Notes

for those of you wanting to know what pandora said, just read every other word, and the
first and last word of each sentence is the start and stop. yes, she speaks in code
sometimes. yes, i love her.

not wolfstar being so fucking sweet :( i love them so much. and moony and padfoot
being best friends, MY HEART 😭😭😭

lily my beloved <3 also not her smelling mary's lotion in amortentia 👀👀👀
and then there's james and regulus. insane little shits, the both of them. james cannot and
will not be normal from this moment on. the kiss that ruined it all, this poor boy is
Officially Gone.
 ACT ONE: Part Four
Chapter Notes

mild warnings for arguing, but it's resolved. some comfortable queer talk, because of
course. flirting, breakdowns, and adorable moments. oh, and regulus causes a scene 😌

enjoy :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"I'm sorry, you did what?!"

James blinks. "I said I snogged—"

"I heard what you said!" Sirius bursts out, staring at him in disbelief. "James, what the
fuck?"

"Er, what?" James asks cautiously, because he can suddenly sense that he has made a mistake
somewhere. He glances over at Peter and Remus for help, but Peter looks stunned, and
Remus is covering his face with both hands. Slowly, James glances at Sirius again. "Sorry,
mate, you're going to have to help me with this one. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? He is a child," Sirius hisses.

"He's literally not?" James squints at him. "He turns seventeen in three days. What are you on
about?"

"I said you could be his fake boyfriend to be a good influence on him; I didn't say you could
—could—" Sirius makes a low sound and presses his hand to his chest like perhaps he has a
sudden onset of heartburn. "Oh, bloody buggering fuck, my best mate has tainted my little
brother."
James rears back in offense and squawks, "Tainted?"

"Yes, tainted," Sirius declares. "He was innocent before you."

"Innocent? Regulus?" James counters skeptically.

Sirius pauses, then huffs. "Alright, so he wasn't, but that's besides the point. Is this who you
are, James? You just go about snogging your best mate's baby brother? This is—this is
traitorous behavior. You love him more than me, is that it?"

"What? I don't even—"

"Quick, if Regulus and I were hanging off the side of a cliff, who would you save first? Don't
think, just answer."

"Merlin," James says wearily, scrubbing his fingers over his forehead.

"That's not an answer!" Sirius bellows.

James heaves a sigh. "At the moment, neither of you, because you're both the same level of
fucking irritating."

"You don't mean that," Sirius murmurs, frowning.

"No, obviously not," James admits. "It's just my back still bloody twinges from where I hit
the ground after he put me in a body-bind and left me in the rose bushes."

Sirius clicks his tongue. "Well, I'm not sure what you were expecting, Prongs. I told you—"
"He has a spine made of iron, I remember," James grumbles, drawing his legs up and resting
his chin on his knee. "If you must know, I only snogged him to prove a point."

"What point could you have possibly been trying to prove where snogging was the solution?"
Remus asks, dropping his hands to stare at him incredulously.

James shrugs one shoulder. "He didn't think I was gay enough, I suppose. Changed his mind,
though."

"Gay enough," Sirius repeats, like it's a foreign concept.

"Yeah," James says slowly, holding Sirius' gaze, because he's very sure that this is something
Sirius needs to hear. He's not sure anyone's ever told him yet. "Because you can still be queer
even if you fancy girls, or were with girls in the past."

Sirius leans forward, intrigued. "You can do that?"

"Mary says so," James confirms.

"Wait, so you're…" Remus stares at him, his lips parted, and James stares back. Slowly,
Remus releases a sharp breath, his throat bobbing. "You're queer?"

"Yeah," James says simply. "Suppose I am."

There's a long silence as they all look at him, and he waits, not even thinking for a moment
that any of them would ever do anything to hurt him about this. Remus is sure to be
supportive, for obvious reasons, and James knows deep down in his bones that there's nothing
he could do that would make Sirius ever stop loving him. Peter...
"Bloody hell," Peter breathes out. "What if we're all queer, but we just don't know it yet?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Sirius says with a snort. "Probability suggests that only half of us are
queer. There's James, and then there's—well, I hope it's Remus." He turns and grins at him,
winking. "He's the pretty one."

James nearly facepalms.

Remus opens his mouth, seems to think better of it, then slowly closes it. He focuses on Peter
instead, which makes Sirius pout, of course. "I'm not sure if that's how it works, Pete, sorry. I
mean...you tend to know. Or have an idea. Or—or just feel it, sort of. Most of the time, I
think, it's one of those things that become obvious sooner rather than later. Not always, of
course, but in a situation where you've got lovely mates who will talk about it and think about
it—well, yeah."

Peter glances around at each of them pensively, his head tilting, and then he says, "I don't
know if it makes me queer, but I'd shag each of you just to say that I did."

"Sounds pretty queer, Pete," James confirms, grinning.

"Slag," Sirius teases. "Don't worry, Wormtail, I'd make it good for you."

"Of course you would, mate," Peter agrees supportively. He pats his bed. "Do you want to
—"

"Oh, absolutely," Sirius says, cackling as he starts to spring up from Remus' bed, because he
and Peter are pure chaos incarnate when they get going.

"Anyway," Remus cuts in, reaching out to catch Sirius' by his chest and firmly push him back
down to the bed. Sirius sighs wistfully and blows Peter a kiss, which Peter pretends to catch
and press it to his chest. Remus' eye twitches. "As we were saying before you two...did
whatever it is you two do, James apparently felt the need to defend his status as a queer
person. Sounds fucking awful, mate. Sorry."

James sighs softly. "No, actually, it was quite lovely."

"I wasn't talking about the snogging, Prongs."

"Oh. Right. Right, no, that makes sense."

Sirius wrinkles his nose slightly, but all he says is, "And he still didn't agree to let you
pretend to date him?"

"No," James confirms. "Still refusing as far as I know, but to be honest, I haven't actually
asked outright again since the first time. I've been trying to work out why he said no to start
with and help prove to him that his reasons are unfounded."

"How slow is this plan of yours, exactly?" Peter asks. "It's January, mate. You started this in,
what, mid november?"

Remus chuckles helplessly. "In his defense, it sounds to me like he's made some progress."

"Oh, don't say it like—like that," Sirius groans, his face scrunching as he lifts his hands like
he's about to cover his ears. "Don't get that tone and say it like Prongs has scored something;
that's my brother you're talking about, Moony!""

"Sirius, what exactly do you think fake-dating entails?" Remus asks, turning slightly on the
bed to raise his eyebrows.

"I don't know. Maybe a bit of hand-holding, maybe even a hug, but nothing excessive," Sirius
explains.
"Oh, snogging is excessive now, is it?" Remus challenges. "I had no idea, Padfoot. So, what
about all the countless people you've snogged that you weren't dating?"

"This isn't about me. How did this become about me? What's so wrong with that anyway?
Since when do you have a problem with who I've snogged?"

"Never. I don't care what you do, or don't do, but—"

"Oh, but it seems like you do, actually. Now, tell me, Moony, why is that? Are you judging
me? Insinuating that I'm a frivolous slag just because—"

"What? No. Piss off, you dramatic git, that's not at all what I meant. I was only saying that
you should hold Regulus to the same standard that you would yourself, even though his
partners would be men. You've snogged girls, even while not dating them, so why can't he do
the same with blokes?"

"I've done a little more than just snog a few girls even when I wasn't dating them," Sirius says
with a chuckle, and then he abruptly goes pale. He swings around so quickly that he nearly
falls off the side of the bed, his eyes locked on James. "Merlin, are you going to shag my
little brother, James?"

"Oh, Christ," Remus mutters, covering his face again.

"Relax, Sirius, I wouldn't even know how," James assures him.

Remus peeks out through his fingers. "It's really not as complicated as it's made out to be."

"How would you know?" Sirius asks with a snort, and in the ensuing silence, his amusement
fades. He does a double-take, his mouth falling open as he looks at Remus in what seems to
be genuine shock and despair. "You—you've—"
"Shagged someone?" Remus mumbles. "A bloke?"

Peter sits up, and even James takes care to pay attention, because for all their jokes and such,
it's obvious that Remus isn't joking right now. Remus has never actually confirmed anything
out loud, which is likely part of the reason Sirius hasn't quite gotten a clue yet. James just
can't help but think that Remus has chosen the worst clue to give him. Sirius 'Jealousy' Black
is about to hit the roof.

"You didn't," Sirius breathes out, his eyes getting wider.

"Over the summer," Remus confirms, and James feels his own mouth drop open, because
some part of him wasn't sure. Some part of him that feels very loyal to Sirius had believed
that Remus would never be with anyone else. Oddly, that part of him feels slightly—
ridiculously—betrayed? "The people who own the land behind our house hired a gardener to
come out and tame the overgrown meadow it's become, and I—I spend a lot of my time at the
property line, sitting against the tree there and reading, so we just...got to talking. He was—
nice."

"Nice," Sirius repeats, like it's a dirty word, as if it actually tastes like filth in his mouth.
James is surprised he doesn't make a show of spitting it out. "Oh, he was nice. He was
fucking nice. Isn't that just so—nice?"

"Sirius," James says carefully.

"A gardener, so a Muggle, I presume?" Sirius continues, gaze sharp where it bores into
Remus' face. Miraculously, Remus doesn't even flinch. "You've a fucking Muggle boyfriend
back home who's nice, and you didn't—you failed to mention it?"

"I don't have a boyfriend," Remus mutters. "It was just—I mean, I knew he wouldn't be there
the whole year, and he knew I had to go off to school, so it's not like it was…" He visibly
hesitates, then swallows. "It wasn't serious."
James can appreciate the layers in those three words, but he can't help but wish Remus had
come to him with this information beforehand, so that James could at least tell Remus that
Sirius is going to lose it. Now, he's not even the least bit prepared, and James pities all of
them for the truly shit week—or two, maybe—they're all about to have.

"Fuck, this was four months ago," Sirius rasps. "Summer was only four months ago, and you
shagged some prick—"

Remus frowns. "He was—"

"Nice. You've said," Sirius cuts in, his voice so cold and devoid of emotion that James feels
his shoulders slump. Oh, here they go. And so it starts. Sure enough, Sirius pushes up from
the bed and heads briskly for his own. "Excuse me, I suddenly feel fucking ill, so I'll have a
bit of a lie in."

"Oh, you feel ill now, do you?" Remus mutters, scowling.

Sirius whips around so vigorously that his hair flies out around his head, and he harshly
snarls, "Yes. Yes, because looking at you makes me feel sick. Thinking about you and your
very nice gardener makes me feel like I'm about to vomit. So, if you don't mind too terribly,
Remus, I'm going to bed where I don't have to do either of those things."

With that, Sirius whirls back around and climbs into bed, flicking his wand sharply and
making the curtains around his bed snap together so stiffly that they're pulled tight without a
wrinkle in them. James wonders if Sirius accidentally changed them into wood, like a more
solid barrier to hide behind.

The sad part is, James knows that Sirius isn't exaggerating. He really does feel those things.
He just doesn't know why.

Even sadder, there's a high chance of Sirius curling up alone in his bed tonight and crying
without knowing the reason, but understanding that, somehow, Remus is at fault for it.
And then there's Remus, who's angry and annoyed and likely embarrassed, which leads him
to promptly hide away in his bed without so much as a goodnight.

James and Peter share a long look between them, passing back and forth an unspoken
acknowledgement that this is about to be a very, very grueling week indeed.

"Happy birthday," James says, sliding into the seat opposite of Regulus, back in the library
again.

Regulus glances up, then blinks. "Oh, you look awful."

"Cheers," James mumbles wearily. He heaves a sigh and shakes his head. "Remus and Sirius
are fighting."

"Aw, it's alright, Potter. Mummy and Daddy still love you, even when they're not getting on,"
Regulus mocks lightly, but there's a tiny wrinkle in between his eyebrows that, if James isn't
mistaken, spells out concern.

James taps his fingers to the table. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, you can ask. I won't promise you an answer, depending on the nature of the question,
but you can ask."

"Would you say you're a very jealous person?"

"Oh." Regulus raises his eyebrows. "Well, yes."

"So, do you reckon that's a family trait?" James mutters.

Regulus shrugs. "Could be, but I'm also sure it just depends on the person. If you're talking
about Sirius, well, he certainly is, too. At least he is when he considers someone his. What'd
Lupin do, then? Shag someone else?"

James looks away.

"Oh, and I thought he was the sensible one," Regulus says sourly, his lips twisting.

"If that's what happened—and I'm not saying it is—he wouldn't be doing anything wrong,"
James insists. "He's a free man and all that trot, technically."

"Yes, well, technicalities don't care about feelings," Regulus replies simply. "No, there's
nothing wrong with it, but that doesn't mean it still doesn't hurt. Then again, it's Sirius' own
fault for not pulling his head out of his arse and doing something about it. Merlin, he must be
awful right now."

James grimaces. That's an understatement. Sirius is on a warpath at the moment, and no one
is safe, least of all Remus. They're either not speaking to one another, or they're both going
round in circles snapping at each other. Sirius brings up Remus' 'nice gardener' at least five
times a day, and Remus' fuse grows increasingly shorter and shorter.

Regulus makes a small sound and muses, "I suspect this won't help him on his journey of
self-discovery, either. If anything will have him diving so far back into the closet that he's
having tea with Mr. Tumnus, it's this."

"Tea with—sorry, who?" James asks, blinking.

"Mr. Tumnus," Regulus says, lifting up his book, the title of which reads THE LION, THE
WITCH AND THE WARDROBE. "Sirius is lost to us now. He's in fucking Narnia, at this
point."
James leans forward curiously. "What's that? C. S. Lewis? I don't know any wizards by that
name."

"He's a Muggle, though I suspect he came from some sort of magical family, so maybe Squib.
But, as far as anyone knows, he's a Muggle," Regulus explains. He gives the book a little
wiggle. "Pandora got it for me to read for my birthday. Well, she got me all of the books. It's
about these four children who find a whole other world in the back of a wardrobe."

"Sounds like magic," James says instantly.

"A lot of things sound like magic to you, don't they?" Regulus looks up with a small smile
and slides a bookmark in between the pages he's on, then closes the book. "About Sirius…
You're going to have to tell him, you know. What he needs is for it to be made clear to him
with irrefutable evidence, and I suppose if he's going to trust anyone's word, it'll be yours."

"Don't you think I want to?" James asks with a groan.

"I'm sure you have your reasons for why you can't, so if that's not an option, then just lock
them in a cupboard together and leave them to it. People who want to snog, especially when
they have proximity and privacy, will eventually, inevitably end up snogging," Regulus tells
him, shrugging lazily.

There's a beat of silence, and James looks at Regulus for a long moment, while Regulus looks
at him. James' gaze drops down to Regulus' mouth for a second as he's hit with the sudden
and visceral sense-memory of their snog, one that feels so real that James would swear his
lips tingle. He glances back up sharply, and in the next second, Regulus is on his feet. He
tucks his book under his arm, then flicks his wand at the stack of books on the end of the
table, following them when they float away.

"So, I've had a thought," James whispers as he, like usual, skips to his feet and hastily follows
Regulus. He's lying, though. There's not a thought in his head right now.

"Have you?" Regulus replies blandly, his voice low as he turns in between two shelves,
nudging books to their correct spot as he goes further in.
James mhms. "Yeah, loads of them. Anyway, it's your birthday."

"I'm aware. Shockingly, you've informed me of this already. Thank Merlin you did, or I never
would have known," Regulus says with a small fake-gasp.

"Oh, shut it," James chokes out, struggling hard not to burst out laughing. He keeps
shadowing Regulus further between the shelves. "I have something for you."

"No," is Regulus' immediate response.

"Yes," is James' counter-argument as he digs around in his pockets to find what he's looking
for, reaching out to hang it over Regulus' head in front of his face.

Regulus has to stop so he won't run into it. "Fizzing Whizzbees?"

"Your favorite, or no?" James asks, wiggling the package and waiting curiously, wondering if
Sirius is a reliable source.

"They're alright," Regulus mutters, but his hand darts up to snatch the package, quick about
it, and James breaks out into a grin immediately. "Thank you."

James gasps dramatically (and quietly). "What was that? Reg, was that...sincerity I heard in
your voice?"

"Just because I'm never sincere with you doesn't mean I'm not capable of sincerity," Regulus
tells him.

"Clearly." James clicks his tongue and reaches out to tuck two fingers in the back of Regulus'
collar, tugging on it. Amused when Regulus jumps slightly and pulls away fast. "It's not fair,
you know. I'm always sincere with you."

Regulus stands on his tip-toes and half-twists to send one of the books to the highest shelf,
settling back down slowly. "I can't help that. You control you, Potter, no one else. Be as
insincere as you like with who you like; who's to stop you?"

"I'm not a very insincere person, I think."

"No, I'd say you're not."

"Black Pepper Imps are my favorite," James informs him casually, craning his head forward
to look down the side of Regulus' collar, looking for—ah, yeah, that. No one goes around
wearing their collar done up that tight and high; now James sees why Regulus has.
Apparently, a very enthusiastic mouth left a mark on his throat. James doesn't actually recall
doing that, if he's honest.

"Why am I not surprised? Of course you'd enjoy getting to breathe fire," Regulus murmurs,
sounding amused.

"It's fun. I like how it makes my mouth hot," James admits, head tilting to the side so he can
trace the mark with his gaze. It really is quite prominent.

"Right, well—" Regulus turns around abruptly, all the books put away, excluding his own.
James snaps up straight, aiming for looking innocent, and Regulus narrows his eyes. "What
were you just doing?"

"Nothing," James says quickly, but his gaze automatically drops back down to the mark,
which is more visible from this angle after he tugged Regulus' collar open.

"Dammit, James," Regulus snaps, his hand flying up to clamp down on the mark. He huffs
and immediately starts fixing his collar so it's covered again.
James purses his lips. "Sorry."

"Are you?"

"Not really. Does it hurt?"

Regulus rolls his eyes. "No."

"Well…" James tries for a smile. "Happy birthday?"

"I prefer the Fizzing Whizzbees," Regulus tells him sharply, starting to move forward, only to
come to a halt when James stays precisely where he's at, blinking at him. "What?"

James cocks his head. "Was that sincere or not? I can't tell."

"Oh, piss off," Regulus grumbles, swatting at him with both hands, pushing him to the side so
he can march past.

"Wait, wait, wait," James chants, surging after him. "Where are you going now?"

Regulus glances at him, glaring. "Believe it or not, I have other engagements besides
entertaining you."

"Like what? I mean, what are you doing right now?"

"If you must know, I have to go meet Sirius on the pitch. He wants to go flying for, like,
brother bonding. Or something. I don't really know. It's my birthday, we don't hate each other,
so now he feels obligated."

James frowns. "Or, you know, maybe he just wants to go flying with you and wish you a
happy birthday. Not out of a sense of obligation, but because he actually loves you?"

"Potter, you're an only child, yeah?"

"Er, yeah."

"Then leave the sibling dynamics to the siblings," Regulus declares firmly, shaking his head.

"Yeah, alright. That's fair. Hey," James says, reaching forward to tap his arm, waiting for him
to turn with an arched eyebrow. "Really, I hope you have fun, even if he might not be in the
best mood. Just...have a good birthday, Regulus."

"I've certainly had worse," Regulus replies, his voice a fraction softer than it was before.

"Have I made it any better?" James asks. "That was my goal."

Regulus' lips twitch. "You did alright, James."

"Sincerely?"

"As sincere as I ever get."

James grins at him like an idiot, and Regulus huffs a quiet laugh before turning to walk away,
apparently off to go flying with his brother for some approved family-bonding time. James
watches him go, very pleased with himself.
"And—and I can't—I can't get the stupid fucking charm. It's such a stupid fucking charm,"
Sirius bursts out, reaching up to shove his hands through his hair as he squeezes his eyes
shut.

James holds in a muted sigh and reaches out to grip Sirius' shoulder, holding on tight,
because he knows it usually helps ground him. They're hidden away in James' bed, because
Sirius has finally reached the end of his rope; this likely has something to do with the fact
that, only hours earlier, he and Remus got into a screaming match so loud that Marlene came
up to knock on the door and make sure no one was dying.

Remus had promptly stomped out, Peter had followed, and Sirius has been ranting ever since.
James has successfully gotten him into the safety of his bed behind closed curtains and a
silencing charm, being the willing ear he needs. It's been hours of Sirius just going and going,
but never about what's actually bothering him. No, that's off-limits, of course, but everything
else? Well, James has heard everything from his worry about Regulus to how he stubbed his
toe three days ago.

"Mate," James says gently, "I don't really think the patronus charm is what has you on edge,
yeah? You can do it."

"I can't," Sirius groans, dropping his head forward to press it to his knees that are drawn up to
his chest. He's curling in on himself like he's vulnerable. "I can't do it, James. I can't even
make wisps anymore. All my fucking progress is just—gone."

"Sirius—"

"Because it's stupid. It's a stupid bit of fucking magic anyway. I don't care that you can all do
it now, and I'm the only one who can't. It's just stupid. Of course I can't, because I'm not
happy, and I'll never be happy, and what even is happiness, really?"
James tucks his lips in, pulling his hand back. He blows out a deep breath and mutters, "Well,
why aren't you happy, Sirius?"

"Probably because I can't do the stupid fucking—" Sirius chokes off, his shoulders heaving,
and there it is.

James knew it was only a matter of time before Sirius ended up sequestered away with him,
crying about all the wrong things. He used to do this a lot back when his family was upsetting
him. Once, Walburga sent him a Howler about being a huge disappointment, and later he was
in James' bed, sobbing about snapping a quill in class—or so he said. The smallest of things
can and will set him off, because he'd rather cry about them than the things that are actually
hurting him.

James used to let him get away with it, honestly, mostly because he was young and didn't
know what else to do. In more recent years, he's learned that when Sirius reaches this point,
there's nothing to be done but gently lead him to the correct problem, or else it'll just fester
away in him for ages. In this case, he can't keep avoiding this issue with Remus. It's not good
for him. It's not good for either of them.

"This isn't about the charm, Padfoot," James says softly, and Sirius makes a low noise as he
shakes his head against his knees. "Hey, go on, look at me, yeah?"

It takes a moment, but Sirius gingerly raises his head, eyes watery. He looks so sad that it's
pitiful. James' heart clenches.

"This isn't about the charm," James repeats, his eyebrows pinching together, and he stares at
Sirius sadly.

"James," Sirius croaks, practically begging him not to.

Unfortunately, James has to. He takes a deep breath and carefully says, "Remus didn't do
anything wrong, Sirius. You know he didn't. You know that. Tell me you know that."
"I know," Sirius admits, "but it feels like he—"

"What?" James prompts.

Sirius tugs at a loose string on his trousers, eyes downcast, lips pressed into a thin line. James
waits, and he's finally rewarded by Sirius mumbling, "What if I'm more like my family than I
thought, Prongs?"

"Sorry?" James blinks, startled.

"I—I was—I am genuinely disgusted," Sirius stutters out, looking up with wide eyes. "Please
don't hate me when I tell you this, because I hate myself enough as it is, but it disgusts me,
James. It makes me feel like I'm going to vomit. Just the thought of—of Remus and a bloke.
What if—"

"Wait. Wait, no, what?" James stares at him incredulously. "You think you're—oh, that's the
conclusion you came to?"

"What else is there, James?" Sirius grits out. He looks absolutely disgusted with himself now.
"It's revolting, but—"

James' nostrils flare. "You—mate, you're not—bloody hell, I'm queer and your brother is gay.
He came to you, and you immediately accepted him when no one else in your family would.
You constantly worry about him. Does the thought of Regulus being with someone disgust
you?"

"I—well, not exactly the same way. Obviously I don't want to know the details, but I'd hope
that he'd get to fall in love and all that nonsense," Sirius says, flicking his fingers and
sniffling. "But he's my brother. What if you and him are just my exceptions, or something?
Because with Remus—"
"Merlin, Sirius, no," James groans. And then, before he knows it, the truth just tumbles out.
"You're jealous."

Sirius gives a violent blink. "Jealous."

James heaves a sigh and nods wearily. "Yeah, mate. Jealous."

"Of...Remus?" Sirius ventures, his eyes nearly crossing.

"Now, does that sound right?" James gives him a significant look, because there's no possible
way that Sirius doesn't have any inkling of what's going on here.

"Oh," Sirius says a moment later, blinking rapidly, and James fights a slightly hysterical
laugh. "Oh, fucking hell."

"There we go," James declares warmly, reaching out with his foot to nudge Sirius' ankle.

"Oh, shit," Sirius blurts out, "I—I am more like my family than I thought, just the wrong
one."

"You've lost me," James says, wary again.

Sirius shakes his head, astonished. "I'm jealous of the shagging. Merlin, I'm like Regulus.
This has nothing to do with Remus at all, does it?"

"Er, well, actually—"

"Damn, I'm going to have to apologize, aren't I?"

James deflates a little and reaches up to rub both hands down his face, sighing again. You
know what? He'll take it. At least it's a step in the right direction. He drops his hands and
gives Sirius a smile, so ridiculously fond of him. "Yeah, and maybe just explain that you'd
like to shag a bloke. Maybe just mention that to him, alright?"

"Might be best," Sirius mumbles sheepishly. "Wait, so that's something you want to do as
well, then?"

"Well, I'm in love with Lily, mate."

"Yeah, but if you weren't?"

"I reckon I'd be happy to if it was a bloke I liked," James muses thoughtfully.

Sirius purses his lips. "Reggie?"

James blinks. "What about him?"

"He's a bloke you like," Sirius points out slowly.

"I mean, sure, but not like that and also—Lily," James says.

A strange look passes over Sirius' face, and he says, like he's the one holding James' hand
through feelings now, "Are you sure? Not like that, you said. Just...are you very sure, mate?
Because you can be a bit… Well, sometimes, it just seems like you're right obsessed with
him, and you did snog him."

"To prove a point, and I'm not obsessed; I'm just trying to get my plan to work," James tells
him.
"Except you haven't actually been trying very hard, have you?" Sirius prompts, raising his
eyebrows.

"Right, I suppose I should get back to that, shouldn't I?" James purses his lips. "I will. I'll ask
again, now that I've actually cleared up all his reservations about it."

"Did he actually have reservations about it to start with?"

"Get out."

Sirius laughs and scrubs at his face, rubbing away the remnants of his tears. He unfurls and
starts to peel apart the curtains, but he pauses and glances at James. "Thanks."

"Of course," James replies, because of course.

And so, just like that, Remus and Sirius are fine again. Like nothing even happened, like the
gardener never even existed, they revert right back to the way they were before. Mostly. It's
just that it seems Remus has entered a new form of torment now that he's aware that Sirius
fancies blokes—a broad statement James thinks nearly sent Remus into a meltdown.

James wonders how long it'll take before Remus impulsively blurts out that he's a bloke who
can and will give Sirius whatever he wants. It's sort of fun to watch him resist the urge every
time the subject is brought up.

In other words, James and Peter are having a great time. Sirius is still oblivious, but less so,
and Remus is likely more sexually frustrated than he's ever been—which is saying a lot,
seeing as he's the only one who's actually done any shagging recently out of all of them—and
it's obvious he's close to snapping.
James' internal tirade of just shag, just shag, just fucking shag already has a more gleeful
tone to it now.

"You know," Sirius muses, "it's a shame there's not some sort of club for queer people here.
It'd make things a lot simpler, don't you think?"

"One would form if being queer was more normalized. Say, if a queer couple actually dated,"
James points out, raising his eyebrows at Remus.

Remus narrows his eyes at him. "Aren't you supposed to be working on that with Regulus?"

"Well, now that you've brought it up…" James props up on his elbow and tosses the map over
to Peter, who catches it without even looking up from the Daily Prophet. James pushes
himself up with a broad smile. "Regulus is out and about again."

"He should be in bed," Sirius comments, frowning in concern as he flicks his wand again.
He's still trying with the patronus charm. "Where is he?"

"Astronomy tower," James says as he grabs his cloak.

"Ah, stargazing," Sirius mutters, relaxing a little. "He always did like doing that. Used to go
through my window to get to the roof just so he could. Who's out this time of year? January.
Oh, oh, it's me. Lads, I'm shining brightest tonight."

"Yes, you are," Peter agrees supportively.

"Cheers, Pete," Sirius says, beaming.

James snorts. "Alright, I'll be back. Wish me luck."

"Luck," Peter and Sirius reply in unison, by rote, and Remus just chuckles and looks back
down at his book.

"Remus," James insists, bouncing on his toes, "I need your luck, or this will never work."

Remus' lips twitch, but he glances up and, while rolling his eyes, he mumbles, "Good luck,
James."

"Ah, there we are. Brilliant, I can feel the luck coursing through me now," James declares,
making a big show of shaking out his arms and flexing his fingers. This earns him warm
laughter, which was the goal, really.

With that, James slips out and heads to the tower. He nearly trips over Mrs. Norris on the way
and has to plaster himself to the wall as she goes by, tail flicking in the air. He makes a face at
her, still holding a grudge for all the other countless times she's gotten him into trouble, and
then he carries on.

When he slips inside, James is pleased to note that Regulus is actually wearing a jumper.
Remus' jumper, in fact. He has his arms propped up on the rail, the sleeves slipping down
over his fingers where they're tucked up under his chin. He looks soft like this, as well as
open, more approachable than he ever seems when he's doing anything else. James is
grinning before he ever slips off the invisibility cloak.

He gets as close as he can, meaning to startle Regulus, but then he's distracted just looking at
him. His face is tilted up, eyes clear as they roam leisurely over the night sky with simple
contentment. It takes James a moment to slip the cloak off, time going a bit wonky in his
distraction.

"Fucking—oh, fuck off!" Regulus bursts out as soon as James appears beside him. He jumps
and scowls, eyes flashing.
"Sorry, sorry," James says with a chuckle, though he finds he actually is a bit sorry. He'd liked
the calm painted on Regulus' face and sort of misses it now. "Did I scare you?"

"You appeared out of nowhere, James, and I'm not made of stone. Don't do that," Regulus
grumbles.

"Alright, I won't," James assures him, stuffing his cloak in his bag and sitting it aside so he
can lean against the rail right next to Regulus, facing him instead of the stars. If one thinks
about it, he's technically stargazing in his own way. At least that's what James thinks. "Who
are you looking at tonight?"

"Sirius is the brightest, just there," Regulus says, lifting one hand to point the star out, indeed
the brightest.

James glances at the sky. "What about you?"

"I'm most visible in late winter and early spring, so some weeks away now," Regulus tells
him.

"Ah, well, I get you year round," James teases, looking at him again, but Regulus just rolls
his eyes. James reaches out and catches the fabric of Regulus' sleeve between two fingers,
giving a light tug. "Nice to see you dressed properly for the weather. I thought you said you'd
burn it."

Regulus glances down at James' fingers but makes no move to brush his hand off.
"Apparently, doing so would be some unforgivable crime against nature."

"It would, yeah," James confirms, still fiddling with the sleeve. He rucks it up a little to trace
his gaze over the bundle of veins under the skin of Regulus' wrist. There's something oddly
fascinating about the sight, almost delicate.

"How did you know I was here?" Regulus asks, turning to arch an eyebrow at him.
James grins at him. "One of my many mysteries, Regulus Black. Don't I just drive you
mad?"

"Constantly," Regulus mutters.

"I can't give all my secrets away, sorry to say. I have to do something to keep people
interested," James teases.

Regulus hums. "Do you actually believe that? Has it ever crossed your mind that you're
enough? Not what you can do, or the things you have, but you."

"What do you mean?" James asks, genuinely asking.

"I mean...you're more than what you can offer people, or prove to them, and if they can't see
that…" Regulus shakes his head and blows out a deep breath. "Merlin, she's an idiot."

James frowns. "Who?"

"Lily," Regulus says bluntly.

"What? Lily? Goodness, no, she's brilliant," James protests instantly, appalled.

Regulus' face tightens, and he runs his tongue over his teeth, the motion parting his lips.
James watches, then can't watch anymore when Regulus looks away with a scoff. "Right, of
course she is. How could I forget?"

"You think she's not?" James asks, startled by this.

"That's exactly what I think."

"You don't even know her."

"For the best, really," Regulus says, his tone clipped.

James opens and closes his mouth, mostly confused, and he's not really sure what's
happening at the moment. He can't quite keep up, and it feels like they're having two very
different conversations. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Also for the best," Regulus tells him, grimacing. He looks over at James with a sigh. "Forget
it. What do you want?"

"Oh. Oh, right," James blurts out, blinking rapidly. Merlin, he keeps forgetting this bit. Every
time he gets to talking to Regulus, the plan to fake-date him slips his mind. "Well, actually,
speaking of Lily—"

"Oh, this again," Regulus mutters, rolling his eyes.

"No, no, just hear me out, yeah?" James says in a rush, leaning forward to try and capture
Regulus' evading gaze. "It's a good plan. It's a fucking brilliant plan, and I'd owe you."

Regulus stares at him. "Owe me."

"When it all works out, yeah, of course," James agrees earnestly. "I wouldn't be able to thank
you enough. I'd give you a lifetime supply of Fizzing Whizzbees, if you wanted."

"James," Regulus starts with a sigh.

"I—I won't ask again," James cuts in, resigned. "I have to at least try one more time, but if
you say no, I'll… Well, I suppose I won't have any other choice than to leave you alone."

"You're going to respect my answer?" Regulus asks doubtfully. There's a wrinkle in between
his eyebrows that James has to fight the urge to reach out and smooth away.

James sighs. "I do respect your answer. I just thought, well, maybe you didn't understand why
I was asking or what I was offering, but I don't know how you can't by now. I don't really
understand why you'd say no, but...if that's it, then that's it. I won't bother you anymore. So,
it's still a no, then?"

"Why don't you feel that way about Lily?" Regulus murmurs, his voice soft, throat rising and
falling on a thick swallow.

"What? You don't think I'm—I'm bothering her about it constantly, do you? I'm not. We're
just friends, and I respect that," James explains slowly. "I just think I could prove I have more
to offer."

"James," Regulus whispers, "it's incredibly sad that you feel like you have to offer more to be
wanted."

"I—I'm not—I mean, I—" James stutters to a stop, struggling to speak around the lump
forming in his throat. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't want to think about this.

Regulus turns to face him and reaches out to pull on the tie at his throat. James tips forward
with the motion, his mind a mess, and he doesn't even stop to think about it. He just goes,
instinctively willing, only for Regulus to rear back out of range, his gaze dropping as he
finishes what he's doing. Which is removing James' tie. Not dragging him into an impromptu
snog that James had been immediately agreeable to.

"I'll do it," Regulus says, stepping back, and James freezes in place. "I will on one
condition."
"What is it? Anything. Yes, of course, you can have whatever you want," James blurts out,
his whole body vibrating.

"Whenever I say no about anything, you respect it," Regulus declares firmly, holding his
gaze. "You respect it immediately, James, and that's it. No reasons or anything else."

James nods frantically. "Alright, yeah, I promise. So, wait, really? You'll actually date me?"

"Fake," Regulus corrects sharply. "I will fake date you. That's an important distinction."

"Right. Right, no, I know," James agrees quickly, despite the fact that he's excited like it's
real. He imagines this is what he'd feel like if Lily agreed to date him. "You're doing it
because you know it's going to work, aren't you?"

Regulus sighs. "No. I'm doing it to prove that it won't. Or, that's one reason, and no, you don't
get to know any more."

"But—"

"What did I just say?"

"Oh! Oh, right, sorry." James mimes zipping his lips, then breaks out into a grin. "It will
work, you know. I'm going to fake date my way into falling in love, mark my words."

"Sure, believe what you like," Regulus says, shaking his head and pushing away from the rail
to start towards the door.

James springs forward after him immediately. "Wait, where are you going? Shouldn't we—"
"What?" Regulus asks, whirling around abruptly and holding his ground so steadily that
James nearly bumps right into him.

"Er, well, this feels like one of those things that needs some sort of...finality to it. Like
official confirmation. Or some sort of agreement," James lists off slowly.

Regulus looks exasperated. "Do you want to shake on it?"

"Seems a bit formal for what we've just agreed to, doesn't it? Boyfriends, pretend or
otherwise, don't shake hands," James declares grandly, opening his arms and waggling his
eyebrows at him. "Come on, then. Get over here. It'll have to be a hug."

"I'm not hugging you."

"Why not? Boyfriends—"

"Stop saying boyfriends."

"Lovers?"

"I'm going to bed," Regulus announces, swiveling on his heel to start heading for the door
again.

James chuckles and surges forward to barrel right into him from behind with no warning,
counting on the spontaneity to help him get away with it. Regulus obviously isn't expecting
James to knock into him and slip his arms around him from behind, so he stumbles with a
low yelp that quickly morphs into a quiet hiss. James catches him anyway, keeping a firm
grip around his front and pulling him back so he won't fall. He ducks his head and starts
smacking obnoxious kisses to the side of Regulus' face with a laugh.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," James chants in between kisses, still laughing, even as
Regulus shoves at the side of his head and tries to squirm away.

"Are you fucking mental?" Regulus hisses, swatting at the back of James' hands on his waist.

James sways him a little. "Shh, let me shower you with affection because I'm so very
grateful. Thank you, lover."

"Don't call me that."

"What would you like me to call you?"

"My name?" Regulus asks incredulously. He's relaxing, James is pleased to note. He's really
quite warm, actually, and his hair smells nice—that hint of spicy mangoes again.

"We'll work on it," James decides.

Regulus is quiet for a long moment, and then he clears his throat and pushes at James' arms.
"Let me go. That's the deal sealed, or it'll have to be."

"Doesn't really feel like it," James mumbles, mildly bereft when Regulus pulls away from
him.

"Not my problem. I'm going to bed," Regulus says as he takes a firm step back. "You should
do the same."

"Can I walk you back?"

"I've already told you, I don't need an escort."

"Well, no, but a fake boyfriend would—"

"Stop. Don't—don't blur the lines, yeah? We're alone. No one is here. We have no one to
pretend for."

James opens and closes his mouth, then coughs and bobs his head, startled again. Right.
Yeah, that makes sense, actually. Admittedly, James hadn't thought of that. "Oh."

"Goodnight, James," Regulus murmurs, giving him a long, lingering look, and then he tucks a
tiny smile away before he's gone, James' tie still locked in his grip as he goes.

James lasts all of five seconds before he jumps up and punches the air, grinning and
celebrating alone like a fool.

"I don't believe you," Remus says simply.

James squawks in offense, mouth dropped open. Remus doesn't look apologetic in the least,
just raising his eyebrows with visible skepticism. James looks to Sirius and Peter for help, but
they're both dragging their feet, practically asleep as they shuffle down the hall behind them.

Getting up this early should be routine by now, especially in the few days before a full moon.
Remus gets to breakfast early so he can eat more, always needing a bit more fuel closer to a
full it gets. James supports this wholeheartedly, because Remus can hardly stomach anything
two or three days following the moon, so he thinks Remus should tuck in extra beforehand. If
this means getting up earlier, then so be it. He drags Sirius and Peter out of bed in advance,
because they'd lie in without either Remus or James there to pelt them with pillows, and
missing classes is such a ridiculous reason to get a detention. If they're going to get one,
they've all come to the unanimous agreement that they want to properly earn it.
"It's the truth!" James insists, turning with Remus as they head into the Great Hall. It's sparse
this early with just smattering of students at each table. Marlene, another early bird, is
tucking in while reading the Daily Prophet at the Gryffindor table. Lily and Mary are not
early birds.

"I think you're taking the piss," Remus admits. "Either that, or you misinterpreted what he
actually said."

James huffs as he splits off with Peter as Remus trails along the other side of the table, Sirius
stumbling after him with his eyes closed. To keep his balance, he's been holding onto Remus'
sleeve, which Remus is pretending not to be absolutely smitten by. "I'm not taking the piss,
and he—he was very clear. I'm not lying, Moony. It's true."

"Really?" Remus checks as he throws himself down into his seat, James doing the same.
Peter and Sirius follow a beat later with even less finesse. "He said he'd do it? Those were his
exact words?"

"Yes," James emphasizes, reaching out to start piling a plate for himself and Peter, who is so
out of it that he just gives up and drops his head over on James' shoulder.

"So smart, Wormtail. So smart," Sirius mumbles, eyelids fluttering before he promptly copies
Peter and drops his head over on Remus' shoulder, a nice little pillow for him.

Remus briefly freezes, his whole body twitching, and his eyes snap to Sirius in surprise. It
seems like Sirius is genuinely drifting off right there, his face falling slack, and Remus
visibly softens. He's more careful about making up plates for him and Sirius, moving like
waking Sirius up or shaking him off would be a crime. James smirks at him.

"Shut up," Remus mutters, his face turning red. From down the table, Marlene snorts, but
when they look over, she pulls the paper higher and scans it with intensity. Remus eyes her
warily before focusing on James again. "If he actually agreed, why did he change his mind,
then?"
"Er, I'm not really sure. He said he had his reasons," James replies. He nudges the side of
Peter's head. "Oi, Pete, I've your breakfast here if you're hungry."

"Five more minutes, Mum," Peter slurs out, readjusting his head on James' shoulder.

James pats his cheek. "Sure, mate."

"And how can you be sure he didn't just say that to get you to leave him be?" Remus asks.

"He's not like that. He wouldn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Very," James confirms.

Remus hums, accepting that with a nod. He shifts slightly to slide Sirius' plate in front of him,
but doesn't wake him. The motion rocks them a bit, and Sirius smacks his lips in apparent
distaste before outright snuggling in closer, forcing Remus to either swivel and let him push
in or shrug him off. Rather predictably, Remus tucks his arm back and lets Sirius do whatever
he wants. Again, James smirks at him as he picks up his fork, and Remus focuses on his own
food. When James catches Marlene's eye down the table, she grins at him.

It's a slow start, but more students eventually start trickling in. Remus gets to finish half his
plate and refill it again before too many people would be there to notice. Peter has officially
snorted himself awake, creases from James' robes on his cheek. Meanwhile, Sirius is sleeping
deeper than James has ever seen him, draped on Remus and knocked out so hard that he's
actually drooling on him. It's adorable, and Remus is pretending it's not happening at all, or
just pretending it's normal, offering benign smiles to those who do a double-take.

"Aw, look at him," Mary coos when she comes down with Lily, the both of them grinning
when they see it.
"Don't you dare wake him, Macdonald," Remus warns.

Mary starts to reach out with clear intentions of pinching Sirius' cheek, but Remus smacks
her hand away. Genuinely just gives her a good wallop, much to her bemused shock and
Lily's entertainment. Marlene roars with laughter as Mary puts her hands on her hips and
crooks an eyebrow at Remus.

"Remus Lupin, did you just swat my fingers like I'm a child touching something that's not
mine?" Mary asks.

Remus coughs. "Ah...no? No, of course not. Me? I'd never."

"You're lucky I love you," Mary informs him, reaching out to ruffle his hair, and he smiles at
her, visibly warmed by the exception she's made him. She chuckles and ducks her head
around to the side Sirius isn't on to kiss Remus' cheek, stealing the last bite of sausage he was
eating and popping it in her mouth. She winks at James as she straightens up and heads off.

"You're amazing, Remus," Lily declares, leaning in to kiss his cheek as well, right where
Mary did it.

"That'd be you, actually," Remus corrects, still smiling, but this is his specific Lily Evans
Smile. They have a bond like no other, one that James doesn't quite understand the intricacies
of, but one he approves of nonetheless.

Lily beams at him. "Library later?"

"Yeah, sure," Remus says, starting to nod but immediately stopping when Sirius shifts against
him.

"Good morning, Lily," Peter and James say in unison when she pauses to look at them.
"Morning, Peter, James. Tell Sirius the same for me once he's done cuddling with Remus,
would you?" Lily teases, her eyes sparkling like emeralds, only brighter because of her
smile.

Peter hums and salutes her. "Will do, Evans."

"Always a pleasure, Pettigrew." With that, Lily draws up and continues down the table.

The noises in the Great Hall start to rise, and still, Sirius is dozing away and seeming like
he'd do it forever. He hasn't given one indication that he's going to wake up, and Remus is
slowing down on eating, so he's actually finding the time to steal tender glances at him.

James nudges him with his foot under the table. "You know you have to wake him up
eventually, mate."

"Yeah, I know." Remus sighs, sounding ridiculously wistful, and then he gently shifts his
shoulder, nudging Sirius' head. His voice is nearly unbearably soft when he murmurs, "Sirius,
you need to wake up and eat now, yeah?"

"Mhm," Sirius rumbles, face barely even twitching.

"Come on, Padfoot, top of," Remus says softly, nudging him more insistently.

Sirius' sleepy response to this is, "You're warm, Moony."

"I—well, yes, I tend to be," Remus agrees, amused.

"You smell nice, too," Sirius praises.

Remus' lips twitch. "Cheers. Going to wake up now?"

"Can't I stay here?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Merlin, you're awful," Sirius mumbles through a yawn as he dutifully lifts his head, blinking
open hazy eyes. He lifts his arms to stretch, groaning and cracking his neck, and then he
settles down with a pleased sigh. "Oh, that was nice. Remus, you make for a lovely pillow,
did you know?"

"No, really, I couldn't tell," Remus says, visibly biting back a laugh as he nods towards the
wet spot on his shoulder.

Sirius looks horrified instantly. "Did I drool on you?"

James and Peter crack up laughing, and even Remus looks fond, but poor Sirius goes red so
fast that it looks almost painful. Shameless Sirius Black, all except for when it comes to
Remus Lupin, and then he gets the meaning of mortification when you've done something
mildly humiliating in front of the person you fancy. Only Remus has ever flustered him like
this.

James is intimately familiar with that mortification. The amount of times he's made a fool of
himself in front of Lily is insurmountable at this point. But he's the sort of person who would
happily look like an idiot if it made someone he loves smile. Sirius is a bit more dramatic and
clings to his status as someone 'cool', so this is a bit of a blow for him.

"You're fine, Sirius," Remus assures him, lips curled up. "It'll dry. It's really not a problem."

"Kill me," Sirius announces dramatically.

"Oh, relax," James says with a snort. "Come on, let me take your mind off it. I've an update
on Regulus."

"Do you?" Sirius asks, practically latching onto the distraction as he curls over his plate and
grabs his fork. "What's that?"

"Apparently," Remus says, "he changed his mind and agreed."

"Not apparently," James grumbles. "He did. He actually did, Remus. Why don't you believe
me?"

Peter plunks his cup to the table. "Honestly, even I have my doubts, mate. Did he actually?"

"Yes! Why is this so hard to believe? Did any of you have faith in my plan?" James blurts out
in despair, looking around at his three most trusted friends, none of which will meet his gaze.

"In my defense, it wasn't your plan I doubted," Sirius tells him with a shrug. "It's just that I
know Regulus. This—I mean, no offense, but I didn't think he'd actually...you know. I'm not
entirely sure why he has. Did he say?"

"He said he had his reasons, and the only one he'd tell me is that he's doing it to prove my
plan won't work," James says.

Sirius nods. "Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Even a bit. He would do it out of spite. Probably
doing it out of spite to our dear old Mum and Dad while he's at it, too." His lips curl up at the
corners. "I'm strangely proud?"

"So, how does it work?" Peter asks in interest.

"How does...what work?" James asks.

Peter raises his eyebrows. "The whole...thing, I suppose. Did you talk about boundaries?
Come up with rules?"

"Um," James mumbles awkwardly, feeling very woefully unprepared all of a sudden. If he's
honest, he sort of doubted that he'd make it this far, too.

"You've no earthly idea what you're doing, do you?" Remus asks him, hiding a smile behind
his cup.

"Shut up, I do," James lies, mildly distressed.

Sirius clicks his tongue. "Oh, this is just bad planning, Prongs. I'm disappointed in you." He
snaps his fingers. "Come on, mate, you're supposed to be prepared for anything, especially
success. What's next?"

"Next?" James echoes weakly.

"Yes, next. You've got him," Sirius says. "What comes next?"

James opens and closes his mouth. "Ah, well, I—"

"Oi, Potter!"

As one, James swings his head around at the same time that Peter, Remus, and Sirius does—
along with a few people sitting near them. The Great Hall is still fairly sparse, so Regulus
Black approaching the Gryffindor table does gather a bit of attention, for likely three main
reasons. One, he's Regulus Black. Two, he's a Slytherin. Three, he's Sirius' little brother,
which could mean there's a chance that one of those epic rows they're capable of is about to
break out.
"Oh, hello, I was just talking about you," James greets pleasantly, because it's true, and that's
what tumbles out in the immediate surprise of seeing him on this side of the room.

"I'm sure," Regulus says flatly, reaching out to unfurl his fingers. James' tie drops to the table.
"I nearly put that on this morning, so do me the favor and keep it."

"You're the one who took it off me," James blurts out in offense, and it doesn't hit him until
about three seconds later how precisely naughty that sounds. A hush falls over more people at
the table, a noticeable one.

"It was late. I was distracted," Regulus replies dryly, then he heaves a sigh and looks
skyward. "I have to go."

James purses his lips. "Oh, alright, but—"

"Yes, James, I'll see you later," Regulus cuts in, exasperated. "You'll find me, I'm sure. You
always do."

"Yeah, that's sort of my thing, isn't it?" James asks with a grin.

Regulus rolls his eyes, braces his hand against the table, then ducks in and kisses James full
on the mouth. Simple and short. James doesn't even get to fully appreciate it before Regulus
lifts up again, so his lips are still slightly puckered as Regulus draws away and says, "I try not
to reinforce bad behavior, but it is, unfortunately, your thing."

"Right. Right, wait—oi, have a good day!" James calls after him, nearly tipping over
backwards off the bench as he leaves. Regulus just makes a lazy gesture over his shoulder
and disappears through the entrance, and James huffs as he scoots back in at the table.
"Always bloody running away."
 "Oh, shit," Remus whispers. "You—you're actually—you weren't taking the piss."

"I told you," James declares in triumph, ripping his gaze away from Remus to run his gaze
over the people around them. Already, there's a steady rise of whispers breaking out, but
James mostly cares about the response from one person.

Down the table, Mary's eyebrows are practically stitched to her hairline. Marlene looks stuck
somewhere between awed and stricken. Lily, though… Lily's head slowly tilts to the side, a
little motion that spells out curiosity.

James grins helplessly. Step one: Regulus Black.

Check.

Chapter End Notes

it took. over 30k. just for regulus to AGREE to the fake dating. 😐 we haven't even
MADE it to the fake dating, that's the sad part. but oh, so it begins ;)

sirius' brain doing mental gymnastics to avoid the fact that he's in love. he's just like me!
he's literally like: oh my god, im not homophobic, im QUEER! and then he explores no
further. go ahead, king, you take your time, we're all here for you when you figure it out.
meanwhile, remus is SUFFERING 😭

and then there's regulus. poor, poor regulus. that's all im going to say about that.

and then james. oh, james. babe. "he's excited like it's real. he imagines this is what he'd

🙄
feel like if lily said yes." really? REALLY? is that so? not gonna explore that any
further? no? okay.

they're all so stupid about each other. i love them.

thanks so much for the feedback and comments, they mean so much to me <3
 ACT TWO: Part One
Chapter Notes

ACT TWO!!!! WE'RE IN ACT TWO!!! This means a POV switch. It's Regulus' turn
now 😌

Warnings for: the fallout from regulus and james going public, as it were. like i
mentioned previously, this fic does explore the unfair treatment that lgbtq+ people have
to face (in all times, even today).

i will put a little in-depth warning in the end notes for what happens for those of you
who want to be spoiled and prepared beforehand, if you need or want it, which is always
valid. i will always, always do this for every chapter that it calls for.

other than that, there's really no warnings. enjoy :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When Regulus Black was eleven years old—about two minutes into his very first train ride to
Hogwarts—he came to the simple and unshakable conclusion that he did, and would always,
hate James Potter. Most eleven year old boys didn't become so certain of such things, but
most eleven year old boys didn't have to actively face the person their brother had obviously
replaced them with.

Because Regulus was eleven years old, he believed in this grudge with every part of his
being, absolutely sure that he wouldn't change his mind. And he didn't. For a long, long time,
Regulus felt nothing but bitter, vitriol hatred for one James Potter, who his brother adored and
admired and turned his back on his family for.

And then, in his fourth year, James Potter walked into the wrong room post Quidditch match
and started undressing until the Slytherin captain ran him out, still shirtless with his trousers
open, sweat sliding down brown skin and gleaming like fucking glitter. Regulus' mouth had
watered. Saliva had flooded his mouth so quickly that he nearly choked on it, and he'd had a
very quiet, very intense crisis right then and there in the solitude of his shower stall.

Needless to say, Regulus' hatred somehow got worse. Because how was it fair that the boy
he'd hated for literal years looked like that? Because what the fuck did he do so wrong that he
had to be plagued with the sight of him every time he so happened to seek out a quick
glimpse of his brother? Wherever Sirius was, James Potter was sure to be with him.

And then, in the summer following his fifth year, Regulus found himself in quite the complex
situation. In a turn of events he did not at all anticipate, he ended up rather alone and
abandoned, all because he slipped up once and admitted that he wasn't interested in thinking
about marrying just yet. He should have known his mother's paranoia after what happened
with Sirius would extend to him as well. One sip from the wrong glass, and Regulus was
spilling his secrets.

"I love Sirius," Regulus had said when his mother asked him how he felt about him.

"I thought it was funny," Regulus had said when his mother asked him what he thought about
Sirius' disobedience.

"No, he doesn't. I wish he would," Regulus had said when his mother asked if Sirius had
anything to do with him in secret, influencing him behind her back.

"Because I don't want to," Regulus had said when his mother asked why he was avoiding the
idea of marriage.

"Because I don't want to marry a woman," Regulus had said when his mother asked why he
didn't want to.

"Oh, well, I'm really quite gay," Regulus had said when his mother had asked why he
protested marrying a woman.

There weren't any more questions after that.

In the end, Regulus didn't know who else to go to, because the only person he could think of
that would know what to do in that situation was the person who'd already been through it.
And, well, he'd wanted his brother. So, he went.
Shockingly, living in the same house as James Potter changed very little for Regulus, in terms
of his feelings for James Potter. Mostly, Regulus avoided him. He still hated him and found
him absolutely delectable, but that mattered less than the things he had to work through
personally with Sirius. It helped that he and Sirius were left to their own devices for the most
part, which goes to show what they can get done without their mother being overbearing and
driving a wedge between them.

Not that it was very simple, mind. They both have their issues with each other, their
problems, their bitterness and anger and general disagreements. But it's gotten simpler, purely
because Sirius likes being needed, and Regulus needs him. He's all Regulus has at this point,
and Sirius is one of those people who will step up for the people he loves. For all their issues,
they do still love each other, complicated as it may be.

And then, nearly three months ago, James Potter cornered him in the hallway and made quite
possibly the most ridiculous and idiotic request Regulus had ever heard. Regulus refused, of
course, and that should have been the end of it.

That was not the end of it.

Regulus has learned three very important things in the time since. Three things that he's been
wrestling with every moment following James Potter popping up in front of him with a smile
warmer than the sun and a steady stream of stupid pouring out of his truly lovely mouth.

One, the veritaserum was not lying. Which, yes, that's the entire point of the thing, and
Regulus knew deep down beforehand that it wasn't. Still, the confirmation has been stamped
on his fucking bones at this point. He wouldn't be able to deny it if he tried. He is so, so
painfully gay.

Two, hating James Potter is not—as he suspected at the tender age of eleven—something
that's very easy to do. Hatred takes effort, and Regulus has swiftly realized that he hasn't been
putting in the effort that he assumed he was. If anything, he was mostly indifferent, excluding
the rude yet persistent desire to fucking lick him. Indifference is not hatred, and it's a large
leap from one to the other, one that Regulus has failed quite miserably in making it all the
way across.
Three, Regulus is a weak, weak man chained to his desires and feelings just like everyone
else. He is not above his own wants, of which he's come to learn that he has many.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, why did I do that?" Regulus gasps out, hyperventilating with his
head between his knees. "I'm so stupid. This is stupidity I didn't even know I was capable
of."

"Aim higher, I always say," Dorcas drawls, watching him from his bed, hands propped up
under her chin with her legs bent, ankles crossed behind her head.

"Now is not the time for jokes," Regulus hisses, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his
hands into his hair. "Oh, I fucking kissed him. Just—in front of everyone. Why did I do
that?"

"I don't know, why did you?" Dorcas asks.

Regulus moans and tips his head over to lay it on his knee. He tucks his lips in and tries—he
tries so very hard not to think about what James' lips feel like. He's been failing spectacularly
at this particular endeavor since the moment James first snogged him. Merlin, that kiss. It's
not fair. It's not fair that Regulus is always going to have that be his first kiss; he's always
going to remember it, and it's—it's rude, is what it is, because he's somehow very certain that
there will be no one better. It's not fucking fair.

It was one of the things that Regulus was reminding himself, over and over. That no matter
how James smiled at him, or touched him, or what silly things fell out of his mouth—he
didn't actually mean them the way Regulus' heart wanted him to mean them. He couldn't, see,
because he wasn't gay.

That bit of safety Regulus was always clinging to had been promptly snatched from him, and
now all he has left is the less preferable fact that James simply doesn't want him and is in
love with Lily Evans. Regulus doesn't like this reminder.

"I should have never agreed. Why did I agree to this, Dorcas?" Regulus rasps. "Why would I
do something so stupid?"
"Mm, because you fancy him?" Dorcas suggests. "Because you want to snog him, and date
him, and shag him? Because your mind is full of filth whenever he's around, so all your
common sense flees you until all you're left with is the very sad, but very true need to have
him in whatever way you can have him?"

Regulus groans and starts tapping his forehead to his knee, wishing he could knock some
sense into himself. "Merlin, Dorcas, don't point it out."

"You asked," Dorcas says with a soft laugh.

"You're an awful human being. Go away."

"You invited me in here."

"Yes, for you to be nice," Regulus complains, opening his eyes and frowning at her.

Dorcas arches an eyebrow at him. "You've been spending too much time with that Gryffindor
boyfriend of yours. Besides, do I look like Pandora to you?"

"Fake boyfriend," Regulus corrects miserably. "And I don't know where Pandora is at the
moment."

"Black, you're pathetic," Dorcas informs him, and then her face softens. "Come here."

Regulus drags himself up instantly, crawling up on the bed and flopping on his back next to
her. She props up on her elbows and looks down at him patiently. "It's stupid, isn't it? Really."

"No, we're not going to call it stupidity. It's—ambition. You're very ambitious, Reg," Dorcas
says, reaching down to flick one of his curls off his forehead. "The world isn't ready for you,
but like hell do you have to wait. It was—it was really amazing, if I'm honest. I felt…" She
swallows. "I don't know. Invigorated? Like I could stand up and wave my arms around and
rant until my throat bled how much that just changed so many lives. It did, you know. I've
never seen anything like that in public, but why should we have to be secrets? I don't think
we should."

"Does that mean you'll snog a girl in public in solidarity with me?" Regulus asks hopefully.

"I'd love to, if I found a girl who'd let me," Dorcas assures him, lips twitching. "Haven't yet."

"Likely because you're looking in the wrong place. I told you, check the Gryffindors. They're
all fucking mental. It was James' idea to be public about this whole thing, the idiot."

"You'll have to be safe, yeah? I mean it. No wandering about the castle late at night by
yourself anymore."

"Heard something?" Regulus asks curiously.

Dorcas' lips press into a thin line. "Nothing with details. Just a general...unrest. Wilkes and
his lot mouthing off, mostly. It wasn't very nice."

"Right, of course." Regulus sighs and closes his eyes. "I'll deal with them. Eventually."

"Just be careful," Dorcas murmurs.

Regulus cracks open one eye, lips curling up. "Concerned?"

"About you? Always," Dorcas says, her gaze warm, sincerity ringing clear in her tone. Then
she smiles and reaches down to poke his temple. "Mostly because I know you're all messy up
here in your skull. Fucking lunatic, you are."
"Your favorite, though," Regulus reminds her.

Dorcas snorts and throws herself to the side, flopping on her back beside him. He can hear
her rings clink together as she links her hands on her stomach. "Pandora is going to hit the
roof when she finds out. Just wait until Barty and Evan hear."

"I'm dreading it," Regulus admits.

"This is why I didn't give you advice. I knew you were going to do whatever you wanted,
regardless. Your cock unfortunately points directly to Potter like a needle on a compass and
he's your North," Dorcas tells him.

Regulus turns his head to stare at her. "Why would you say that? Dorcas, why the fuck—"

"Am I wrong?" Dorcas challenges, and Regulus says nothing, because wild metaphors aside,
no, she's not wrong. "Do you suppose that's how he finds you? Maybe his cock—"

"Please don't talk about his cock."

"I'm just saying, maybe—"

"Just don't say," Regulus cuts in, strained. "Literally never speak again. He doesn't—it's not
real for him, alright?"

Dorcas sighs and nudges his elbow with her own. "You know this is going to hurt, right?"

Regulus closes his eyes and murmurs, "It already does."

"What were you thinking?" Evan hisses, the door to the dorm banging open as he, Pandora,
and Barty come marching in like a line of disapproval. The door slams shut, and Regulus
glances at Dorcas, who looks like she's struggling not to laugh.

"Evan—"

"Don't 'Evan' me! In the Great Hall? In front of the whole bloody school? Are you fucking
insane?"

"Come off it, Rosier, as if he's ever claimed to be sane to start with," Dorcas teases.

Barty points at her. "You are a bad influence on him."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are—"

Evan cuts in with a firm, "Squabble like children later. For now, Regulus, what—and I mean
this sincerely—the fuck?"

"Well, you see," Regulus says, then looks down at his fingers and doesn't elaborate. This
earns him three different groans with various forms of frustration.
"Mate, we all told you not to do this, and what did you go and do?" Barty waves his arms
around. "This!"

"Do you have any idea how fucking irresponsible that was? The danger you just put yourself
in? It was bad enough before, and you want to make it worse on yourself?" Evan rants.

"It was not that bad," Regulus mutters.

"Last month, someone conjured a snake in your bed, and had you been even slightly less
vigilant than you are, it would have bitten you," Evan says flatly.

"But it didn't, and now we have a pet," Regulus points out, gesturing to the tank where
Salazar is coiled up, quite happy. They'd all agreed rather unanimously that Salazar was the
best name for him, just too on the nose to pass up, but they mostly call him Zar. "So, really,
it's not that bad."

Barty squints at him. "Stop being optimistic. It freaks me out."

"Oh, and what about you?" Pandora insists, because that's the part she's most hung up on.
"How you feel matters, too, Regulus. You always forget that. Why would you—"

"Don't."

"I am. I will, and you can't stop me. You're going to get hurt."

Dorcas, the traitor, declares, "He said it's already hurting."

"Break up with him," Evan orders. "Fake break up with him, whatever. Just—just end it now
before it ends badly in one of the many ways it could."
"No," Regulus says simply.

"You fucking idiot, Reggie," Barty breathes out, lifting a hand to pinch the corners of his eyes
and dig his fingers in like he has a headache forming.

"Why not?" Pandora asks sharply. "It's not magically binding. Just tell him you don't want to
do it."

Regulus purses his lips.

Evan tosses up his hands. "Oh, lovely. The fool wants to do it. Who the fuck wants to get
their heart broken? Merlin and Morgana both, this is ridiculous."

"Alright, lay off, yeah?" Dorcas snaps, standing up. "None of you have to deal with these
struggles, because you all have the benefit of going on without scrutiny. Everything Regulus
does is in the spotlight as it is, so what's he meant to do? Hide? Not get to live at all, just
because he likes cock?"

"No, of course we're not saying that," Evan argues, "but to actively make his life harder?"

"Don't you think it's hard not getting to be out in the open and be free with who he is? All of
you know it isn't yourselves," Dorcas retorts. "I'm not saying it'll be simple, or easy, or safe—
but that's his choice to make, and you're either with him, or against him."

Barty frowns. "Well, when you put it like that…"

"Obviously we'd never abandon him," Pandora mumbles, her shoulders slumping, "but—but
did it have to be someone he knows is going to inevitably crush his heart, Dorcas? Tell me
what logic is in that. It's senseless, and I don't—" Her gaze cuts to Regulus. "I don't want you
to be sad, alright? It's going to break my heart if he breaks yours."
"I'll be fine," Regulus says.

They all stare at him.

"Alright, try again, and the next time you lie, put some actual conviction to your tone," Barty
tells him.

"I'll be fine," Regulus repeats, giving it another go.

"Better," Barty praises, nodding.

Evan heaves a sigh and moves over to dump himself on his own bed. "No more hiding,
Reggie. I mean it. I'm not doing it anymore, because numbers are important right now. If they
think you're weak and alone, they'll go for you. If you have us, they'll at least think about
backing off."

"They. Who is this elusive 'they'?" Regulus asks dryly, even though he already knows. 'They'
is just a stand-in for the people they know and don't know alike who undoubtedly take issue
with him for his preferences. "I've been doing fine on my own, Evan, and your dad will lose
it."

"Tolerating my father being a shit—maybe beating me a little, if he hasn't calmed by Easter—

is less of an issue than what could happen to you if the elusive 'they' think you're isolated and
vulnerable," Evan retorts firmly. "My dad won't kill me; he's counting on me to run the estate
and provide children for the family. Whether or not someone would kill you is the real
question at this point."

"I'm more than happy to stop sneaking about like we're your secret clandestine concubines,"
Barty agrees, smirking at Regulus and waggling his eyebrows. "Do I look like a dirty little
mistress to you, Black?"

Regulus arches an eyebrow at him. "Do you want me to answer that honestly, or…?"
"Prick," Barty says, laughing. He moves over and flops down on his bed, kicking off his
shoes and looking unsurprised by Pandora shuffling over to practically curl up at the end of
his bed, chewing on a strand of her hair.

"Barty, hair," Evan says, nodding to Pandora.

Barty glances down and clicks his tongue, then reaches out to gently tug her hair out of her
mouth. "No, no, none of that. I know you're stressed, but that's no reason to give yourself
hairballs. Deep breaths, lovely, that's it."

"That was one time," Pandora groans, turning her head to muffle the sound against his bed.

"And we shall never let you live it down," Dorcas tells her, hopping up to grab Pandora's
head and turn it, swooping down over her to give her a firm kiss right on the forehead, which
Pandora accepts, yet still looks rather miserable afterwards. "Ah, that usually cheers you."

"I'm worried," Pandora whispers, her eyes crawling to Regulus again. "I'm really fucking—"

"The worst that happens is I get a little heartbroken," Regulus cuts in, shrugging one
shoulder. "So what, yeah? Everyone's a little heartbroken at least once in their lives. I'm
actually a bit grateful I'll get to experience it, so stop worrying so much."

"There's nothing to be done for it," Pandora continues. "He's just going to have to love you.
He doesn't doesn't get a choice. That's all there is now, because you'll be unhappy otherwise,
so he'll just have to date you for real."

"He's in love with Lily Evans," Regulus reminds her, as he's constantly reminding himself,
for his own sanity.
Dorcas makes a mm mm mm sound, like she's just tasted something absolutely delicious.
"Merlin, but she's beautiful."

"Dorcas?" Regulus mumbles, staring at her in betrayal.

"Oh, you can't blame me. I'm a lesbian," Dorcas says, but when Regulus doesn't let it go, she
rolls her eyes. "Oi, how is it her fault that he's in love with her? He's the creepy one coming
up with ridiculous plots meant to make her feelings change when she's made it very clear that
they won't."

"No, listen, me too," Regulus blurts out, holding out his hand to the side like he's halting her.
"I thought the same thing, I swear it, but there's more to it than what it looks like. Really, at
the heart of it, it's just his self-esteem issues."

"His—" Dorcas rears back, face scrunching. "James Potter? The most arrogant boy in the
school, self-esteem issues?"

"Regulus is blinded by love," Pandora announces sadly.

Barty snorts. "He's thinking with his cock, is what he's doing. We'll make excuses for just
about anyone we want to shag."

"Don't group me into this," Evan mutters.

Regulus huffs. "Shut up. I mean it, actually. You don't—alright, I know how this sounds, but
you don't know him like I do."

There's a beat of silence, then Pandora says, "Well, the heart wants what the heart wants."

"His cock is focused," Barty agrees.

"It's genuinely a bit sad," Evan muses.

"You're all fucking awful. I don't know why I'm friends with any of you," Regulus snaps,
which earns him snorts, giggles, and broad grins. He rolls his eyes. "I know he seems
arrogant, okay, I do. I—trust me, I've—well, you all know my issues with him. But then I
actually had more than one conversation with him, and you know, he's actually so…" He
bites his lip, then looks away when he feels his face get hot. "Anyway, my point is, he's not as
bad as he seems. Besides, you don't get to form proper opinions unless you've actually
spoken to him, so—"

"Oh, we're all going to speak to him," Pandora declares, propping up on her elbows to look
back at Regulus with narrowed eyes. "We're all going to speak to him a lot."

"As far as he knows, we actually think you two are dating," Evan agrees, looking thoughtful.

"Oh, do we get to threaten him?" Barty asks, amused.

Regulus snorts. "You're welcome to try. He probably wouldn't even notice."

"Well, that makes it less fun," Barty complains.

Evan clicks his tongue. "That's alright. We'll find what riles him up. Between all of us, we're
bloody good at it."

"I have better access, being in the same year," Dorcas says, leaning up against Barty's bedpost
with her arms crossed. "I have a few classes with him, I'm sure. Haven't much paid him or his
friends any bit of attention, seeing as they're all the most obnoxious people I've ever met.
Well, maybe not Remus; he seems alright."

"Don't terrorize my fake boyfriend," Regulus says flatly.

"It's like you don't even know who we are," Barty mutters.

"The fact that you have a fake boyfriend you want to be your actual boyfriend is a disaster,"
Pandora announces, flopping back to the bed again with a groan. A strand of her hair falls
over her face, and because she's anxious, she curls out her tongue to catch it and draw it into
her mouth. Without even looking, Barty diligently tugs it right back out.

"All of this is a disaster," Evan grumbles.

"A big, gay disaster," Dorcas confirms with a teasing glint in her eyes as she grins at him.

Regulus sighs and looks over to watch Zar slowly slither over the large branch in his tank.
"At least I like this disaster. I'd say it's a greater improvement to my last one."

It's strange what difference one little fact about someone can make. Something so
inconsequential, so lacking in impact on others, and yet it changes the perception of Regulus
to his peers so grandly that it's genuinely ridiculous.

He knows that a lot of them didn't believe it, not actually. Or they thought it was just a rumor.
Or they thought it was a cover-up for whatever true reason he was disowned. Because surely
Regulus Black was not, could not, be gay. It's not like Regulus ever gave any indication of
what he liked or didn't, and in his first five years at Hogwarts, he never so much as glanced at
anyone with interest...where people could see him.

However, when Regulus didn't immediately find himself a girl to put on a show with to
combat the spilled status of his preferences, more people began to have doubts. Started to
question it because surely, if it wasn't true, he'd do something to prove it. Waited for him to
deny it, to protest it, to do some sort of damage control that he simply...didn't. He asked
Sirius if he had to, Sirius had said he didn't—but he could, if he wanted to, and Sirius would
be supportive either way—and Regulus didn't want to, was the thing. He really didn't.
The truth is, people were always going to be suspicious of him after the big reveal, whether
or not he tried to dissuade them of the notion that he's gay. It would escalate to living a lie in
an attempt to keep proving himself, which he was avoiding from the start. Snogging some
girl would become the demand to date her, or else he's gay and just pretending; then shag her,
or he's gay and just pretending; then marry her, or he's gay and just pretending; then have a
child with her, or he's gay and just pretending. And the sad part is, if he would have done
those things, he would have been gay and just pretending.

He wasn't going to have it easy the moment people found out, because then the clock started
on what he would do, like all eyes were on him to see which way he'd sway in the torrential
winds of the backlash granted from one Walburga Black. And, because he did absolutely
nothing to refute the claim, people made their (unfortunately correct) assumptions.
Nevermind that he didn't do anything to support the claim either; people expect denial,
because it's not innocent until proven guilty, but rather the much more damning opposite.

So, it all really boils down to—if he's going to be treated like he's committing some egregious
crime, why not actually do the crime people believe he is? After all, he actually is gay.

Things shift after he's confirmed it.

"Who the fuck—"

"I'm fine," Regulus snaps, placing his palms flat to the floor and pushing himself up with the
help of Sirius' hand at his elbow. He dusts off his palms and heaves a sigh when he sees
Sirius' head swiveling, looking for the culprit, his jaw set and his eyes flashing. "Leave it,
Sirius."

"Leave it, my arse. Who ever did that, you're fucking dead!" Sirius bellows down the hall,
making people scurry away or quickly turn to whisper to their friends.
"How touching," Regulus says flatly, rolling his eyes. "Thank you, oh honorable one, for
coming to my defense, as I am a helpless damsel in need of my brother to fight my battles for
me. Blimey, what would I do without you?"

"Don't be a prick. Are you alright?" Sirius asks, flicking his gaze over him with a frown.

"No, I'm in agony," Regulus replies, lifting an eyebrow.

Sirius huffs. "That was just cowardly anyway, hexing someone at their back. Probably a
Slytherin." Regulus crosses his arms, lifting both eyebrows, and Sirius purses his lips.
"Belatedly, I recognize that I've insulted your House. I would like to say I'm sorry, but I'm
actually not. I refuse to take it back."

"Right, of course not. Tosser."

"Wanker. Is it bad, then? Since this morning, I mean."

Regulus shrugs. "Not really. That was the first, though I'm sure it won't be the last. It's mostly
just staring and whispering at the moment. Is James alright?"

"Oh, he's fine," Sirius says, taking a deep breath. "He's never really alone, you know, and I
think most people won't bother him for fear of what prank they'd suffer if they did."

"I'm going to have to make an example out of someone," Regulus notes, flicking his gaze
around the hall, examining the people who are doing terrible jobs of hiding the way they're
examining him.

"Usually, I wouldn't encourage it, but…" Sirius also glances around, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Maybe it's for the best that you do, Regulus. The next person who—who hurts you, just let
them have it, yeah? I'll help, if you like."
"I think I've got it." Regulus rolls his eyes again and shoulders his bag more firmly, turning to
start heading up the hall.

Sirius walks with him, because of course he does. "This will get back to Mother, you know."

"I know."

"What do you think?"

"Two ways it could go, honestly. If I'm lucky, she'll stay silent and keep pretending she never
had children. If I'm not lucky, she'll have something to say about it. Likely the latter; her and
father never much liked the Potters, as you know."

"Oh, yeah, I'm very fucking aware."

"I used to laugh when she sent you Howlers. This is karma, isn't it?" Regulus mutters with a
grimace.

"Seems like," Sirius replies. "If it helps, I won't laugh."

Regulus side-eyes him, lips twitching. "But you'll want to."

"Maybe a bit," Sirius admits with a sheepish smile.

"You always did want me to get my comeuppance," Regulus muses, shaking his head as they
turn a corner.

"I did, yeah, but not…" Sirius blows out a deep breath and looks at him, frowning now. "Not
like this, Regulus. Not about this. You don't—it's not fair, you know. There's nothing wrong
with—with what you're doing. It's actually...brave."

"Merlin, don't insult me." Regulus wrinkles his nose. "Bravery is your thing, if you recall.
No, this is just...stupid, which is also more your thing than mine, except on rare occasions
involving your best friend, apparently."

Sirius huffs a weak laugh. "Yeah, can I just ask? What's all this about? I would have never
expected—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Reg…"

"I'm not talking about it," Regulus reiterates sharply, and Sirius narrows his eyes at him.

"You're going to tell me eventually."

"I'm not."

"You will."

"I won't."

"Then I'll just work it out at some point," Sirius grumbles.

Regulus snorts. "Unlikely, but sure, give it a go. In any case, don't you have your own
problems to worry about?"
"Well, it hardly counts as a problem, especially if there's nothing I can do about it," Sirius
mutters, wrinkling his nose.

"Nothing? You can't think of one thing, one person, who could help you with this situation?"
Regulus asks, exasperated.

Because Sirius is an idiot, he looks baffled. Regulus shakes his head and looks away. Not his
business. He swore to himself he'd stay out of it, and he's determined to. Sirius wanting to
shag Lupin has nothing to do with him, least of all the fact that he's completely oblivious to
it.

It had surprised him, honestly, when Sirius had shown up out of nowhere one day last week
to inform him that he got it. He said it, then, no, but I really do get it, Reg. Because
apparently, he can grasp that he's capable of fancying blokes and even wants to shag them,
but narrowing it down to the one his heart is already set on? Well, that's beyond him.

That's always been Sirius' problem; feeling so fiercely and so much that he can't even make
sense of it all. Regulus, in turn, has felt so fiercely so little that he can't miss it when he does,
no matter how much he'd like to.

In any case, they'd bonded over it. Found mutual amusement in being the same type of
disappointment to their parents, something they never would have expected to happen when
they were younger. These days, he and Sirius will bond over anything they can, because they
need the things that tie them together to make up for the things that always drove them apart.
Sometimes, in rare moments, the latter will shift into the former in a beautiful, twisted way
that hurts and heals at the same time. Regulus won't say it, and if it's the same for Sirius, he
won't either, but those moments are cherished.

Before Sirius can strain his brain too much, Regulus slows to a halt outside of Charms.
"Lovely. I'm delivered safe and sound. Does that appease you enough, or will you insist on
sitting in my lesson with me, too?"

Sirius eyes the door like he's considering it, but ultimately, all he says is, "Alright, alright, I'll
go. Just—for a bit, at least, try not to go places alone. And be cautious, yeah?"
"I'll be fine," Regulus says.

"Right," Sirius replies, lips pressed into a thin line.

Without a goodbye, Regulus heads into class.

It takes the better part of the rest of the day for James to find him. Or, rather, Regulus finds
James. Bumps into him, really. He turns a corner and collides right into James without any
warning whatsoever, glancing backwards off him from the momentum in which they were
both moving.

"Oh," James says, then laughs. "Found you."

"Clearly," Regulus replies flatly, reflexively sarcastic without even meaning to be half the
time. Sometimes he does mean to be, though. Keeping James at a distance is for the best.

"Hello," James greets warmly, smiling. That lovely, lovely smile of his. It's utterly
maddening. Every single thing about James Potter is absolutely maddening. "How was your
day? Has it been as strange as mine?"

Regulus narrows his eyes. "How has your day been strange?"

"Well, there's been a lot of staring," James muses. "That, and loads of whispers have been
following me everywhere I go. At least two brave souls asked me if I actually snogged
Regulus Black at breakfast, or if it was just a rumor."

"Oh, is that all? And here I thought you'd be relishing in the attention," Regulus says, arching
an eyebrow.
James chuckles and leans up against the wall, crossing his arms. He reaches out with one
hand to catch one of Regulus' curls by his temple between two fingers, lazily twisting the
waves over his knuckles, and Regulus stands stone-faced, pretending his heart isn't trying to
beat out of his chest. "I don't mind it, really, but Sirius said someone tripped you earlier? Do
you know who it was?"

"No."

"Suspect anyone?"

"James," Regulus says, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I know, you can handle yourself," James mutters, gaze trailing to where his fingers
still wind around Regulus' hair, seemingly distracted by the sight. "Doesn't mean I have to
like it. When I went into this, I never did it in the endeavor to make things harder for you. It's
supposed to help."

Regulus' lips curl up sadly. "Told you it wouldn't work."

"We just need a bit more time," James says quietly, gaze snapping to his abruptly. "Until
change happens, you and I are going to be careful, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah, you're being really careful," Regulus mumbles, flicking his gaze to where James'
hand is still messing about in his hair. "People are staring, James."

"Let them. I said we'd be careful; I didn't say we'd back down. There are ways to be bold
without endangering ourselves," is James' calm response.

"As if you're not naturally inclined to recklessness," Regulus tells him, though he hardly has
room to talk about anyone being reckless as of late. Goodness, look at him now.
"Being a little reckless is fun from time-to-time."

"Of course you'd think so."

James chuckles and tucks Regulus' hair behind his ear, then immediately cocks his head and
untucks it again, apparently not done playing with it. "Merlin, you have soft hair."

"Shampoo," is Regulus' clipped response before he turns abruptly and starts walking away.
Lily Evans, Lily Evans, Lily Evans, he chants inwardly. It used to be not gay, not gay, not gay
until James rendered that mantra obsolete.

"How are we, you know, dating," James says with audible significance in his tone, "and
you're still running away from me? Genuinely, Regulus, where are you trying to go?"

Somewhere I can fucking breathe, Regulus thinks. "Away from you, generally," Regulus
says.

Same thing, really.

"Now, sweetie—"

"No."

"Honey Pot?"

"No."
"Ducky?"

"Gods, no."

James huffs. "You're so fussy, do you know that?"

"Yes, dear," Regulus deadpans, struggling not to smile when James busts out laughing, still
dutifully following him.

Edgar Rickerby, who has been the Slytherin Quidditch captain for two out of the four years
that Regulus has been playing, has apparently had enough, as it turns out.

"Look," Edgar says, "I personally don't give a toss whether you're chasing a skirt or tripping
over yourself for cock, but some of the others on the team don't want you around where they
shower."

"Edgar, you're the captain. You make these decisions; don't place the blame on the team,"
Regulus grits out.

Edgar shrugs, chewing on a strand of grass. He thinks it gives him 'pregame luck' to be 'one
with the earth' or something. It doesn't, but no one mentions it. "It doesn't help that you're
carrying on with Potter, you know."

"It's his last year?" Regulus sputters. "We've already had our game against them? What the
fuck are you on about?"

"Listen, it's like this, yeah?" Edgar raises his hands in surrender. "We need you for this match,
but then you're off the team, and you can't come in the showers after. That's just the way it is
sometimes. I'm being nice about it because you're the best bloody seeker the team's ever had,
so be grateful it's coming from me and not them, Black."

Regulus runs his tongue under his top lip and releases a soft laugh before slowly tilting his
head. "Is that right, Rickerby?"

"So it is," Edgar says unapologetically.

"Alright," Regulus says softly. "I understand."

"Glad you do," Edgar replies, starting to reach out and clap him on the shoulder, only to halt.
His face twitches, then he draws his hand back and quickly leaves.

Twenty minutes later, Regulus is stomping up the stands with single-minded focus, gaining a
lot of attention for likely many reasons—the main one probably being that he's in the stands
where the Gryffindors are. People are watching curiously with rising interest, but Regulus
bypasses James entirely to slightly push Pettigrew aside and swoop down to speak in Sirius'
ear.

"I need you to do me a favor," Regulus mutters.

"What is it?" Sirius asks.

"Sneak off during the match—take your mates, or don't, I don't care—and go charm the
showerheads in the Slytherin locker room to bite," Regulus says, speaking clear and precise
so Sirius won't miss a word.

Sirius wrenches back, eyebrows shooting up. "Reggie?"

"I need plausible deniability, and if I do it, I'll charm them to bite off their cocks and get
expelled," Regulus explains.
"I—yeah, alright. Shit, I thought you'd never ask," Sirius replies, breaking out into a slow
grin.

"Lovely. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a match to go lose," Regulus declares, pivoting and
starting to head back.

"Oi!" James blurts, reaching out to snag his wrist as he goes by, his face tilted up with
curiosity. "What was that all about?"

"Ask Sirius. I have to go now," Regulus says, tugging on his wrist, but James tugs on him
some more, making him sway in and brace his hand on James' shoulder.

"Kiss for luck?" James asks, grinning.

"No," Regulus tells him, and James immediately lets his wrist go. "I don't need it, but
thanks."

With that, Regulus turns and picks his way back the way he came, ignoring the people who
either lean away from him or lean closer, repulsed or curious in tandem.

It's Slytherin against Ravenclaw, and there's no question of who will be winning—the
Ravenclaw team has weak chasers and Regulus is much better than their seeker. To be fair,
the girl is only in third year and has only played against Hufflepuff so far, which is a ruthless
team that will crush the weakest link without sympathy. Slytherin is worse, generally, but
Regulus is suddenly in a very generous mood.

The first time Regulus blocks the quaffle for a Slytherin score, the team doesn't think much of
it. After all, it's not unheard of for a seeker to accidentally cost the team a score if they're off
after the snitch. The second time, Rickerby raises his arms in the universal what the fuck
gesture.
"Sorry!" Regulus calls, waving his hand at his head. "All that cock I'm tripping over myself
for, it addles the mind!"

Regulus does it again, and again, and again until the Ravenclaw stands are chanting his
bloody name and the commentator is making an argument that Regulus is on the wrong team,
or maybe the Ravenclaw captain paid him off.

"What are you doing?!" Rickerby yells in despair.

Regulus relaxes back on his broom, raising his arms in a silent whoops. "Sorry, Rickerby,
that's just the way it is sometimes."

"Black!" Rickerby bellows as he flies away.

"Oi, you! Melanie, isn't it?" Regulus asks, flying up next to the Ravenclaw seeker, who
nearly startles herself off her broom.

"Um, yes?" Melanie says. (She doesn't sound so sure.)

"Come on, fly up with me, yeah?" Regulus jerks his chin upwards. "The snitch usually starts
out high."

Melanie's eyebrows furrow. "I—I don't think I'm supposed to be talking to the competition."

"Trust me," Regulus informs her dryly, "you're not."

Twenty minutes later, Regulus has given Melanie every tip and trick as a seeker that he
knows, as well as nearly all of the Slytherin team's secrets. They've lazily looped the pitch a
few times, waiting for the snitch to show itself. Regulus has kept an eye on the game below,
making sure the score doesn't get too uneven. It's getting close, though. He's going to have to
fly down and be Ravenclaw's second unofficial keeper again.
"Why are you doing this?" Melanie asks him when he informs her of this, telling her to keep
looking for the snitch.

Regulus debates for a long moment, weighing his options, and then he heaves a sigh. "My
team apparently takes issue with the fact that I'm gay and dating James Potter. This will be
my last game, so I'm...making the most of it, you could say."

"Oh." Melanie frowns, then blinks at him. "Sorry. That's—I mean, I was actually scared to
compete against you. They said you were brutal."

"I am. It's just not you I'm facing today," Regulus says simply, then swoops down to go block
another goal.

Edgar is so infuriated by this that he—a beater—launches a bludger right at him, the hot-
headed idiot. There's an audible gasp from the stands, the commentator starts ranting, and
Regulus bobs and weaves out of the way. When he flies near Edgar moments later, he grins
as he goes by.

"Black!" Edgar roars.

"The best bloody seeker the team's ever had, didn't you say, Rickerby?" Regulus asks,
holding his arms out. "Well, I was gay then, too. You want to toss me off the team? Fine, I'll
be the worst fucking seeker the team's ever had."

"It's your head, Black!" Edgar snarls.

"I've seen the snitch four times," Regulus informs him. "Could lean out and grab it, in fact.
Give me a reason to, Rickerby."

Edgar slams his hand down to his broom. "What do you want, you spiteful prick?!"
"Oh, nothing you could give me, or the rest of the team. I reckon Potter already has that
covered," Regulus says with a laugh, flying off as Edgar starts violently cursing.

Things get tricky after that, because Edgar starts pelting bludgers at him every time he comes
within range, so being Ravenclaw's second unofficial keeper isn't as easy. The Ravenclaw
team is weak enough that the lack of one of the Slytherin beaters targeting them doesn't make
much of a difference, and without Regulus' help, they start lagging.

Regulus watches the score climb in the direction he doesn't want it in, then does something
potentially stupid. It's a little miscalculated, just him being more certain of his own speed
than Edgar's reflexes. He's only slightly off the mark. He does block a shot, but he'd likely
have taken a bludger to the head if not for the fact that Melanie comes out of nowhere and
body-checks Edgar so hard that he drops his bat and has to fly down to retrieve it. She circles
Regulus, an exhilarated grin on her face, and he gives her a quick salute.

Then, as Edgar flies back up, the snitch flits between him and Melanie in a shiny flash of
gold. He and Melanie both surge after it, purely on instinct, and Regulus forgets for a
moment that the goal is to not catch it. He slows.

"No!" Melanie shouts at him. "Don't let me win, you twit! Even if you catch it now,
Ravenclaw is ahead in points. Go on, Black, give me some competition!"

"I'll win!" Regulus shouts back, because he knows he will.

"Then show me how it's done!" Melanie orders.

"Don't you dare catch that snitch, Black!" Edgar screams in the distance, and well, that's that
decided for him, really.

It takes him two seconds.

He overtakes Melanie in a heartbeat, flattening against his broom and jolting forward to
spiral up and under her, yanking up hard to snatch the snitch right out of the air. He arcs
harshly in the air, body leaning as he does a neat little turn and halts in place as Melanie
frantically comes to a stuttered stop, nearly colliding into him. Her mouth hangs open.

"That was so cool," Melanie breathes out, stunned.

Regulus smiles slightly. "Thank you."

"Can you show me that?" Melanie blurts out, and she's so young, so full of—well, something
that Regulus grew out of in between his fourth and fifth year. That baby-faced innocence that
speaks of childish hopes, the heavy weight of the world not quite settling in just yet. It makes
him oddly nostalgic.

"No reason not to, I suppose. I'm not on the team anymore, so why not?" Regulus murmurs,
then lifts his hand to signal that he has the snitch, and the Ravenclaws erupt immediately.

"Regulus Black has caught the snitch and cost his team the match! Regulus Black has
ensured Ravenclaw won!" the commentator bellows, sounding ecstatic.

On the ground, the Ravenclaw team celebrates, even Melanie. Edgar, on the other hand,
heads right for Regulus. He throws his broom down aggressively and rather predictably
shoves Regulus hard on the chest, his entire face red with fury.

"What the fuck was that?!" Edgar bellows.

"That was my last game," Regulus retorts. "Rickerby, you idiot, you don't kick a player off
the team before a game. Good luck with the rest of the season without me. Oh, by the way."
He gestures around at the rest of the team, making sure they can hear him. "I wouldn't come
anywhere near any one of your cocks if I was dying and it meant saving my life."
It's immediate chaos after that, because Edgar surges forward with a snarl, and unexpectedly,
the Ravenclaw team comes to Regulus' defense. Or, well, Melanie rushes over to do it, and
her team is loyal enough to follow, and it seems they're grateful enough for Regulus' help to
actually keep him from getting pummeled. Hooch bellows and blows her whistle in the
background, but the rush and post-match adrenaline is still high, so fights break out anyway.

Regulus, ironically enough, is not among them. Because quite literally out of nowhere, an
arm wraps around his waist and drags him back before he can claw Edgar's eyes out. He
starts to fight the arm until he sees Sirius dart past, only to also be dragged back by Lupin,
and then Regulus knows what's happening. He calms enough to be mildly bewildered by the
sight of Pettigrew taking his shoe off and launching it right at Edgar's head with deadly aim.

The Professors descend on the teams, breaking the fights apart, and Regulus isn't entirely sure
what he's yelling at Edgar, but it must be bad enough that it'll get him in trouble, because
James' hand covers his mouth as he's dragged further away. Only wearing one shoe, Pettigrew
helps Lupin pull Sirius back as well, who's releasing a steady stream of curses and
ridiculously vivid threats that makes some of the Professors look downright appalled.

"Black! Both Blacks!" McGonagall calls sharply. "My office, now. Potter, Lupin, Pettigrew—
get them there!"

"Yes, Professor," Lupin and James answer with the same amount of strain.

Of course, a few minutes later, Regulus and Sirius are startlingly calm. They walk on their
own without any fuss, strolling along casually while James, Pettigrew, and Lupin watch them
warily, like they might explode.

"Did you do it?" Regulus asks Sirius.

"Yeah," Sirius confirms with a satisfied hum.

"Secretly?" Regulus continues suspiciously.

Sirius shoots him an injured look. "What? Of course. I'm me. No one saw a thing."

"Good enough," Regulus allows, shrugging.

It's a little bit later before five boys come to a halt outside of Professor McGonagall's office.
One of them is missing a shoe and doesn't seem to mind (Peter Pettigrew), two of them are
sharing looks of understanding that no one seems capable of understanding but them (Remus
Lupin and James Potter), while the last two casually wait for their penance for something
they don't regret (Regulus and Sirius Black).

They must be a right sight, because McGonagall does briefly come to a halt and drag her
gaze over each of them before releasing a muted sigh. She sweeps forward to open the door
and let Sirius and Regulus in, promptly slamming it shut in the other three's faces. Sirius
immediately opens his mouth, likely to defend himself—or both of them—but McGonagall
just swings around the desk and lifts a hand, looking at Regulus.

"Mr. Rickerby informs me you've been removed from the Slytherin Quidditch team due to
your—personal preferences that are no one's actual business but your own," McGonagall
announces, holding his gaze.

"Yes," Regulus confirms simply.

McGonagall pushes a tin on her desk forward. "Sit. Have a biscuit, Mr. Black. You too,
Sirius."

And so, they sit and have a biscuit each, and McGonagall listens while Sirius goes on a long,
rambling tangent about how he and Regulus had every right to respond as they did. Regulus
doesn't say very much, seeing as she's not his Head of House, but he does answer her
questions when she asks them, mostly honest. There are a few times that McGonagall is
looking between him and Sirius, and he knows she's silently marveling at their many
differences, especially when they sit right beside each other and look so similar.

In the end, McGonagall is shockingly lax about the whole thing. There's a minor lecture
about not fighting in school, a promise to speak with Professor Slughorn about taking action
against the unfair removal of him from the team, and then the reluctant resignation and
acceptance when he tells her not to bother. Even if Slughorn would do something about it,
Regulus doesn't want to play on the team anymore after all that. She seems to understand, but
he thinks she's not pleased the same way Sirius isn't pleased, like she, too, thinks it's unfair.
It's sort of nice, actually, that an adult is capable of seeing it that way.

Regulus is released first. Sirius is still visibly agitated and pent up, so McGonagall asks him
to stay over, waving her wand to start some tea. She looks like she's settling in for a long,
long talk—and Sirius, who apparently can tell, looks really grateful. Outside in the hall, it's
just James, and his head snaps up the second that Regulus slips out of the office.

"Sirius is still talking to her," Regulus explains.

"Yeah, he does that sometimes. Suppose we all do, really, but him the most. Remus has gone
with Pete to get him some new shoes on, since he tossed one at Rickerby's head," James says,
reaching around to scratch the back of his neck, looking at Regulus through his eyelashes
past the glare of his glasses, visibly chewing obsessively on the inside of his bottom lip.

Regulus glances around. There are people down the corridor, small groups scattered on either
side of them, and while they all steal glances or outright stare at him and James, it's not
nearly enough that they have to pretend. So… "What, James? Why are you looking at me like
that?"

"You were brilliant," James blurts out, and he surges forward across the open space between
them to come close, always so earnest about his proximity. "That was absolutely brilliant. I
mean, you were practically playing for the other team while dodging bludgers and playing
two different positions, and you still caught the snitch, Regulus. That was—you were—"

"Brilliant?" Regulus fills in, mildly amused despite himself, and if he was anyone else, he
would be grinning right now.

"Yeah," James says with a breathless laugh.

"You know," Regulus murmurs, reaching in his pocket, "that was my last game, so I'm not
particularly eager to return this."

James glances down in surprise when Regulus presses his hand to the middle of his chest,
curved around the closed snitch he caught. James' hand automatically comes up to cover
Regulus', and then he's holding the snitch when Regulus gently tugs his hand away. "You
stole—"

"In all the chaos, I forgot to give it back to Hooch. She'll think it flew off; that's why she
keeps so many in stock."

"Oh. Don't you want it? You're giving it to me?"

"Hold onto it for me," is Regulus' compromise, and James breaks out into that lovely,
lopsided smile that he was aiming for in the first place. Merlin, but he's a beautiful, beautiful
boy.

"I'll cherish it forever and ever, my darling lover," James teases, fluttering his eyelashes at
him playfully, but for all his jokes, he looks genuinely pleased by the gift, a touch bashful
when he rolls it around in his palm, then tucks it away.

Regulus huffs. "Don't call me—"

He doesn't get to finish before James is catching his face in his hands, moving forward with a
hooded gaze, like a man possessed. It makes Regulus inhale sharply, and it takes truly
herculean effort for him to turn his head to the side, eyes drifting shut when he feels James'
forehead rest against his temple with a small tap, his breath skipping over Regulus' jaw, fast
and choppy. There's a moment where they're having a soundless conversation, all body,
saying so many things without saying anything at all, and Regulus wouldn't be able to
translate any bit of it if he wanted to.

Just the rocking of James' head against his own, the twitch of his fingers against the sides of
Regulus' neck where he's holding on now. There's the way James nudges at Regulus' cheek
with his nose, seeking and questing with a question of more, like a little hopeful knock on a
locked door, and Regulus' mouth is so dry, his heart is fluttering like a bird thumping against
the side of a cage, desperate to break free, and he wants—by god, he wants so fucking badly,
but it's for the best, really, that he doesn't get to have. But oh, oh, he'd like to have. He aches
for the chance to have.

"No?" James whispers.

"No," Regulus breathes out shakily, and James instantly lets go, taking a firm step back as he
gives a violent blink.

"Sorry," James mumbles. He blinks again and clears his throat, gesturing lazily over his
shoulder. "People, you know."

"Right," Regulus murmurs.

James clears his throat. Again. "So, did you get in trouble? She didn't take Hogsmeade from
you, did she?"

"She didn't," Regulus confirms.

"There's a Hogsmeade trip this weekend," James points out. He reaches over and slips his
fingers up the sleeve of Regulus' robes, the pads of his fingers pressing into his wrist, a secret
touch no one will get to know about but Regulus, so why, why, why— "You'll come with me,
yeah?"

"I'll think about it," Regulus replies, knowing damn well that he's going to say yes. Of course
he is.

"Good enough," James says with a broad smile, bright as it is lovely, and he slips his fingers
down to slot them in between Regulus', a slow motion that fits. James doesn't let go, but all
eyes are on them, so why would he?
 "Yeah," Regulus says softly. "It'll have to be."

Chapter End Notes

for those of you checking the end notes to know what happens beforehand, there's one
scene where regulus is tripped in the hall with a jinx, and we don't know who. it starts
with him picking himself up, so it's not explicit, and sirius is there with him. also,
regulus gets removed from the quidditch team for basically confirming that he's gay.
regulus does get his revenge.

for everyone else who has finished the chapter...

james potter this entire chapter: hey, we should kiss again. hey, did you know we're
pretending to date, so this means we can kiss? what if we kissed? i think it'd make sense
of we kissed. kiss? when can we kiss again? just one? no? hey what if—

regulus: we must stay focused. lord have mercy, we must stay focused

also!!! dorcas my beloved <3 SLYTHERIN dorcas my beloved!!! evan, barty, pandora
my beloveds <3 i adore them all so much in this fic.

honorable mention to peter for throwing his shoe at rickerby's head. *im rolling with the
lgbt plays in the background*

loving all the comments and feedback, thank you <3

 ACT TWO: Part Two
Chapter Notes

hello again, all. this chapter comes with no warnings. the only thing i will say is, there's
a little bit of french in this chapter (the only time it's ever used) and i do not speak
french, so i went through google translate, which i know—trust me, i so woefully aware
—that it rarely gets things right. so, to any french readers i have, if i have any at all, i
apologize in advance for any and all mistakes 😭

i will be putting the translations down in the end notes, for those who don't wanna
google themselves.

otherwise, enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"You know, really, Rickerby had it coming," Dorcas muses, lying on her back with her head
in Evan's lap. Pandora is sitting next to him, carefully weaving flowers in between her locks,
which Dorcas finds pretty.

"Fucking cunt," Barty mutters, his head in Regulus' lap, not an uncommon occurrence inside
the dorms, but less so outside. Regulus knows he's secretly hoping it'll get back to his father,
which Regulus mostly finds amusing. "The team's shit without you, honestly. As if being gay
changes your talent for riding a broom. If anything—"

Evan preemptively busts out laughing, already knowing the joke before Barty even finishes
it, and Regulus himself knows it as well, which prompts him to dryly say, "How original,
Crouch. Please draw more similarities between cocks and brooms; no one's ever done that
before."

"It was more of a joke drawing comparisons between how equipped you are to ride them
both," Barty tells him with a feral grin, giving a rather vigorous hip thrust with a wink.

"Like you'd know."

"Oh, do give it a go, I beg of you."

"Sorry, Barty, I'm used to bigger brooms, if you catch my meaning," Regulus says, lips
twitching when Barty gasps in faux offense.

"Fuck you. I'll have you know, my broom rides just fine, thank you very much," Barty
mutters while Evan wheezes with laughter, nearly crying.

Pandora hums. "It's true. This, I can confirm."

"We've never shagged?" Barty says, sounding baffled. He pauses, taking a second to think
about it, as if he has to make sure he hasn't, in fact, shagged one of his best friends.

"Arribelle told me," Pandora tells him, glancing at him in visible amusement. "The girl I
helped sneak into your dorm last year? Evan made me swear to never do it again."

"She walked around in her sleep," Evan mutters. "Climbed into bed with me. Nearly scared
the piss out of me."

Regulus snorts. "And me, when he shrieked past two."

"I didn't shriek."

"You shrieked."

"Fuck you, Black."

"I thought we just established I prefer bigger brooms?"

Evan raises his eyebrows. "Just because I don't use it doesn't mean it's not a big broom,
Regulus."

Dorcas hums. "And my broom is the biggest of all, and you'd all do well to never forget it."

"Oh, to ride Dorcas' broom," Barty says wistfully, pretending to swoon in Regulus' lap.

"Hey, look," Pandora says, nudging Regulus' side with her elbow, "wonder-boy at three."

As one, they all pause to look over, spotting James walking across the grounds with a blonde
girl, the two of them obviously coming from the pitch. No doubt Gryffindor just had
Quidditch practice; they're both clearly a little tired, dragging their feet even as they chat,
brooms in hand. Regulus bites down on his tongue, nails digging into Barty's arm where he
clamps down instinctively to hold on, and to his credit, Barty only winces but doesn't
complain.

"Fucking McKinnon," Dorcas hisses in distaste.

"Don't be a brat, Meadowes," Evan teases, reaching down to gently swipe his hand down her
face. "It's been three years. When are you going to let it go?"

"Never. Not even when I'm dead in my grave," Dorcas says sourly, scowling directly at
Marlene McKinnon, who she's despised since her fourth year, when McKinnon apparently
slighted her in Potions by mostly ignoring her when they got paired together, then ruining
their potion by fumbling the cauldron over the edge of the table, then not even managing to
stutter out a proper apology before proceeding to never speak to her again. Dorcas has taken
this personally.

"Regulus, you're going to snatch my arm off at this rate," Barty says, strained.
"Shut up," Regulus mumbles, but he forces himself to loosen his grip and exhale slowly.
Merlin, why does James have to look like that? Brown skin shiny from exercise, broad
shoulders bobbing with every step, the visible shift of muscle in his thighs through the
Quidditch uniform as he takes the incline towards the castle with a sturdy stride. It's stupid,
really, but if there's anyone Regulus wants to climb onto and ride, it's James Potter, and he
even means that literally, as well as a fucking euphemism. He'd genuinely hop on James' back
and feel the way his body moves and love every bit of it. Oh, but he feels a little insane just
looking at James and wanting him.

"I'm surprised you didn't notice him first. Didn't your cock spring up and—" Dorcas lifts her
hand and snaps out a finger, pointing it quickly in James' direction. "You know, like a—"

"Please stop bringing up the compass thing. I'm begging," Regulus complains, dismayed, and
Dorcas cackles.

"What compass thing? I want to know the compass thing," Barty says, thoroughly
entertained.

"Regulus' cock is the compass, and Potter is his North," Dorcas explains through laughter,
and everyone else immediately dissolves into laughter with her, excluding Regulus, who is
questioning his choices in friends.

The laughter is loud enough that it draws McKinnon's attention briefly, just a quick glance
over her shoulder. She looks at Dorcas, then looks away quickly, then does a sharp double-
take when she sees Regulus. When she turns back around, she leans over to say something to
James, who comes to an immediate halt and pivots on the spot.

"Oh, now, would you look at that?" Evan murmurs, sounding absurdly delighted. "I think
we've found what riles him up."

Barty sniffs the air like a hound and says, "Is that jealousy I'm picking up on, Rosier? Not just
me, is it?"

"No, not at all," Evan assures him.

"Are we sure he doesn't actually fancy you?" Pandora asks, tilting her head. "He does seem to
be trying to set Barty on fire with his eyes at the moment."

"Tuck and roll, Crouch," Dorcas teases.

Regulus frowns. "He doesn't. If you remember, he thinks you all think we're actually dating.
It's fake."

"Doesn't look fake to me," Evan says blithely.

"Right, shit, he's coming," Barty declares, abruptly springing up from Regulus' lap, only to
fall right back down when Pandora pokes him in the middle of the forehead. "Ow!"

"Don't give in," Pandora says.

Barty stares at her incredulously. "Have you seen Potter's hands? They're big! My face is too
lovely to be a target!"

"Fuck, he's bringing McKinnon," Dorcas chokes out, wrenching upwards and scrambling
for...something. Regulus isn't sure what. He isn't sure Dorcas knows, actually.

"We are so disorganized," Pandora mumbles.

Evan sighs. "Disappointing, isn't it? I expected more from us."

"We outnumber them two to one," Barty declares.

"There's five of us?" Dorcas says.

"As if Regulus is going to fight his precious Potter."

"Ah, that's true."

Regulus hisses, "No one's fighting anyone. Stop being fucking lunatics, all of you. He's
probably just coming to say hi."

Two minutes later, James draws to a halt right beside Regulus and Barty, looking down at
Barty with a frown as he says, very sharply, "Hi."

"Hey there, Potter," Barty greets with a smile, lifting one hand and lazily wiggling his fingers
up at him, eyes sparkling.

"McKinnon," Dorcas greets frostily.

"Er, Meadowes?" McKinnon replies uncertainly.

"Don't you all look cozy?" James mutters.

Barty hums. "As a matter of fact, I am."

Evan and Pandora stifle laughter.

"Regulus," James says, the name slipping through clenched teeth, making Regulus snatch his
gaze up from where he had admittedly gotten distracted by the slip of collarbone that's
peeking out from James' robes.
"James," Regulus replies, slow-blinking at him.

Nostrils flaring, James mumbles, "Can I—could I talk to you for a moment? Alone. Over—
there."

"What? James," McKinnon hisses, staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth falling open.

"Just a minute, Marlene, you'll be fine," James says, passing his broom over to her.

Dorcas leans forward. "Yeah, McKinnon, you'll be fine. What? Have a problem with us, do
you?"

"No," McKinnon blurts out. "No, of course not. I—well, I thought you had a problem with
me, actually."

Regulus gives Dorcas a look as he carelessly pushes Barty's head out of his lap and gets to his
feet. McKinnon shifts slightly, looking a little abandoned as he strolls away with James
dutifully following. They go far enough that they won't be overheard, but can still see the
others. Dorcas is clearly talking to McKinnon, who looks ridiculously flustered but is
nonetheless obviously talking back.

"What is it?" Regulus asks James as he turns to him.

"I had it wrong. It wasn't Rosier. It's Crouch, isn't it?" James says, which makes absolutely
zero sense. Apparently seeing Regulus' confusion, James makes a quiet noise of frustration
and nods towards the others. "The one you fancy, if you fancy anyone. It's Crouch, isn't it?"

Regulus is silent for a long moment.

"Oh, it is Crouch," James blurts out, eyes widening.

"I don't fancy Barty," Regulus mutters, and James just stares at him, so Regulus sighs. "You
don't have to do this, you know. There's no need to pretend to be jealous, James. They're not
going to expect that out of you unless you make it the standard. It's not required."

James rears back a little bit. "Pretend to—I'm not pretending to be jealous. I just—it feels a
little ridiculous, doesn't it, being your fake boyfriend if you have a wish for a real one?"

"I don't want Barty, or Evan, to be my boyfriend. I'm quite content with their friendship,"
Regulus tells him, exasperated.

"You just seem—close with him," James mumbles, darting his gaze over Regulus' shoulder,
frowning.

"So? That's fine," Regulus says slowly.

"I—yeah, of course," James agrees, then reaches out and grabs Regulus by his shoulder to
draw him into an unceremonious hug, one hand cupping the back of his neck while the other
slips down to press into the small of his back.

Regulus' eyes sink shut helplessly as he instinctively breathes in, and fuck, James smells good
—which isn't fair, because he's just come from Quidditch practice, so by all means, he should
stink even a little. But no, no, of course not. James Potter is too good to smell like anything
other than the lovely scent of the forest and tucked away meadows Regulus has never gotten
to explore. It makes no sense that James always smells like outside, as if he's a woodland
creature that carries the earth with him wherever he goes. Warmth and eucalyptus. It's not
fair, it's not fair, it's not fair. Regulus can't get enough.

"What are you doing?" Regulus murmurs, canting his head up to drag his nose over James'
exposed collarbone. No one can see him when he's tucked away against James like this. It's
only revealing to James, which is a dangerous thing as it is, but James doesn't seem to think
anything of it. In fact, he tightens his arms around Regulus and pulls him closer.
"Hugging my boyfriend, who should probably hug me back, or it's going to look strange,"
James replies.

Regulus squeezes his eyes shut tighter until spots dance in his vision, then lifts his arms and
slips them around James, and this is so very dangerous. He's playing with fire; he'll have no
one to blame but himself when he's burned. "This is coercion, Potter. Not very classy. Never
expected it out of you."

"Desperate times and all that," James mutters. "I just think, if I'm pretending to be your
boyfriend, this is something I should do. It makes sense. Doesn't it make sense?"

None of this makes sense, Regulus thinks. "It makes sense," Regulus says, burrowing in
closer.

"Maybe it is the standard," James continues. "My standard. Not—not in a bad way, obviously.
I'd never say not to have friends and be affectionate with them. I just—I think, maybe, that
was my spot, is all. For now. Not that he can't, if you want him to, but you're supposed to
want me to—or pretend you do, at least—and if you think about it, a small reminder to those
who might forget for a moment can't hurt."

"Forget what, exactly?"

"That you're—that it's mine. My spot, I mean. For now. Well, pretend, but they don't know
that. You know what I mean."

"Not really," Regulus admits. All he knows is that he truly, genuinely doesn't mind at all.

James blows out a harsh breath and mumbles, "Yeah, I don't really know either, if I'm honest.
My head's all—well, a bit like a loose chocolate frog again."
"Catch it," Regulus says softly.

"Don't really need to at the moment, which is nice. It's so nice. This is really nice," James
replies, equally soft, and he tucks his head down and buries his face into Regulus' shoulder.

Regulus gently reaches up to cup the back of his head, carefully slipping his fingers onto
James' coarse hair and lightly scratching at his scalp. James makes a quiet noise of simple
delight, and Regulus opens his eyes to peer up at the sky. He feels steadier than he ever has in
his life, all because James apparently needs him to be at the moment. It's a reassuring thing,
to know that he's capable of being sturdy, a port in someone's storm, especially James'. It
warms him. Makes him smile. Makes him feel reliable, and strong, two things he's never
really experienced before.

Regulus gets the feeling that James would stand here just like this for the rest of the day, and
Regulus wants to, which is precisely why he nudges James back. "Go on, stop lying all over
me. You need a shower."

"Oh. Right." James glances down at himself with a frown. "Do I smell very bad?"

"Awful," Regulus lies.

James grimaces, looking embarrassed. "Sorry. Er, I'll go, then. Just—Hogsmeade tomorrow.
Did you think about it?"

"No," Regulus lies, yet again.

"No, you didn't think about it; or no, you won't go with me?" James asks, blinking those big,
earnest eyes behind his glasses right at Regulus, eyebrows furrowed.

Regulus heaves a sigh. "Yes, I'll go with you."

"Yeah?" James perks up instantly, breaking out into a grin.

"Yeah," Regulus confirms, lips twitching.

James beams at him, then ducks in quickly to press a kiss to Regulus' cheek, pulling back
with bright eyes. "Brilliant! We'll have fun, I promise." He starts backing away, raising his
hand to wave it. "Oi, Marlene, let's go in, yeah?!"

"Coming!" McKinnon calls, doing just that.

"See you tomorrow, lover," James says, winking at Regulus, looking quite pleased with
himself as he turns and falls into walking with McKinnon, a bounce of delight in his step.

For a moment, Regulus can almost pretend that it's real, that James' excitement is real, that
the request for a date is real. It makes his chest clench with how fiercely he wants it, but it's
not real, so he's left with having what he can get.

Really, he's grateful to have anything at all.

What Regulus appreciates about James—well, alright, he appreciates a lot about James, but
specifically, it's that he's not the type of person who leaves others guessing. There's no doubt
that he says what he means and keeps his promises. There's no wondering about his sincerity,
because he's one of the most sincere people that Regulus has ever known.

So, when James promises a date to Hogsmeade, he means it. He means it so sincerely, in fact,
that Regulus steps out of the entrance to the Slytherin common room and comes to a
screeching halt at the sight of James, who is waiting with an unaffected, unruffled air to him.
A Gryffindor just casually hanging about, not even seeming to notice the looks he's getting as
different Slytherins file out.
James looks—warm. Really quite ridiculously warm, in fact. Casual in those Muggle denims
that flare out at the bottom, and a pink turtleneck with a black flannel coat over it. Regulus
has seen a good bit of Muggle fashion transition over into Hogwarts, particularly the muggle-
borns, and if he's honest, he's suddenly very grateful for it. Merlin, how is it possible for
someone to be mouth-watering?

"What are you doing here?" Regulus murmurs as he moves over, and James pushes away
from the wall, smiling. "I thought I'd just meet you in the entrance hall."

"Ah, well, I tend to wake up early. Didn't want to wait. Do you mind?" James asks.

Regulus glances over his shoulder, watching more people flood out of the entrance. The
response to James' presence is lukewarm, at best, but some people are visibly curious, just
waiting to see what's going to happen. The spectacle of Regulus Black being a queer. Oh, the
shame.

"No," Regulus says firmly, turning to face James again, "I don't mind at all. Just warn me
next time so I won't keep you waiting any longer."

James looks surprised, but pleasantly so, and he does a funny little bow before sticking his
arm out. "Lovely. Shall we?"

"I'm not—"

"Now, honey—"

"No," Regulus says violently, reaching out to clamp down on James' arm and drag him away,
his laughter ringing out the entire way.

"You're so grumpy," James teases, slinging his arm around Regulus' shoulders as soon as
Regulus drops his hand away from it. He draws Regulus into his side, and Regulus can feel
the grin he presses against his hair. "Come on, lover, you're meant to enjoy this. It's for your
benefit, too. I'm going to absolutely spoil you today."

"Are you? And how do you plan to do that, exactly?"

"Well, all the galleons in my pocket are for you, for one thing."

"Potter, are you...bribing me?" Regulus asks. "To be happy?"

"Depends. Would that work?" James replies, tapping his fingers lazily against Regulus' chest
where his arm hangs down over his shoulder.

Regulus snorts. "If riches would save me from misery, I would have been ecstatic when I was
at home."

"You weren't, then?"

"You've heard my mother screech before, yes? Tell me, how is one meant to be ecstatic when
they have to hear that every day? It's a shame. She has a lovely singing voice, shockingly.
Only heard it once when Narcissa charmed her wine glass to keep refilling after every
swallow, and she always has one glass a day, you know, but that was a never-ending glass, so
before she knew it, she was pissed. Strangest thing I've ever seen. I wish Sirius had been
there to see it."

"She just started singing?"

"She said she felt 'fuzzy' and needed to go lie down, then stumbled off singing in French."

"French?" James asks, audibly amused.

"My father's father—her first cousin, once removed—was insistent on the children in the
family being fluent, and they carried on the tradition with the next generation."

"Sorry, did you just say—your father's father is her first—wait, so that's—I mean, that makes
you and Sirius—"

"He's my brother," Regulus says with a sigh, "and also my third cousin."

James stares at him, stricken. "That's… I mean, Sirius never really sat us all down and
explained the family tree, but Reg, that's—that's really—"

"Oh, I know. I know, James, trust me" Regulus mutters, grimacing. "Toujours pur, more like
toujours en famille."

"Merlin," James breathes out, staring at him with wide eyes, looking stunned. "Wait, no, say
something else in French."

"Qu'est-ce que je devrais dire?" Regulus asks.

"Can Sirius do that? Why doesn't Sirius do that? I wish Sirius would do that; I like it," James
muses wistfully.

Regulus snorts. "C'est le langage de l'amour, James. S'il le dira à quelqu'un, ce sera Lupin."

"Yeah, exactly," James says, grinning at him.

"Si je ne t’aimais pas, je penserais que tu es tellement stupide," Regulus replies, lips
twitching.
James narrows his eyes at him playfully. "Did you just call me stupid?"

"Absolutely," Regulus tells him.

"Well, do it again, so long as it's in French. Henceforth insult me at your leisure, but solely in
French," James declares, lifting his hand to gently flick the end of Regulus' nose as they
break into the hustle and bustle of the entrance hall, the gathered students heading to
Hogsmeade. He seems utterly oblivious to any eyes on them, of which there are plenty.

"Je veux te lécher. Je veux t'embrasser jusqu'à ce qu'aucun de nous ne puisse respirer. Espèce
d'imbécile."

"Oh, I'm an imbecile now?"

Regulus hums. "As if that's new."

"What else did you say?" James asks.

"Just a long-winded, convoluted way to call you an idiot in French," Regulus lies.

James squints. "I don't believe you. Oi! Padfoot!"

Sirius—who is loitering about with Lupin, Pettigrew, Lily, and another girl Regulus is quite
sure is Mary Macdonald—looks up immediately, breaking out into a grin. He raises his hand
and flips them off. "Yeah, Prongs?!"

"What does, ah, lécher mean in French, mate?!" James calls, completely butchering it, but not
badly enough that Sirius won't know what the fuck he's saying.
"Lécher?" Sirius' face scrunches. "Lick? It means lick! Why?"

"Lick? As in—tongue?" James swivels his head to raise his eyebrows at Regulus, reaching up
with his free hand to slowly drag his glasses down his nose to peer over them. "Regulus, were
you saying naughty things in French?"

Regulus, who was saying naughty things in French, pushes James' glasses back up his nose,
then rolls his eyes. "No."

"Why are you asking me what lécher means?" Sirius asks as he and James (and Regulus, by
extension) meet in the middle, Lupin trailing behind Sirius like there's some invisible rope
tugging him along, the poor sod.

"Well, your third cousin here," James starts, gesturing at Regulus with a grin.

Sirius physically rears back, looking horrified. "My what? Reggie! Did you tell—"

"He's your what?" Lupin chokes out, laughing.

"Es-tu gêné, cousin?" Regulus asks, lips twitching against his will.

"Je suis ton frère, et oui, c'est un putain d'embarras!" Sirius says in a rush, almost too fast to
keep up with, just as fluent as he's always been.

Lupin jolts and makes another choking noise, though this time, it seems to be for an entirely
different reason. He stares at Sirius in dismay. "You can speak French? Could you always do
that? Fucking hell, don't do that."

Sirius, miraculously, looks abashed. He turns red. "Sorry. That's, ah—I don't usually… Our
parents made us learn. I mean, we grew up learning. So, I just—don't."
"Continuez à le faire. Lupin pense que c'est attirant," Regulus murmurs, raising his eyebrows
at Sirius, who glances over at Lupin sharply, blinking.

"What did you just say?" Lupin asks Regulus, eyes narrowed.

"Vraiment? Tu penses?" Sirius says, slower this time, flicking his gaze over Lupin's face.
"C'est le langage du sexe."

"D'amour," Regulus corrects.

"Mm," Sirius hums, pursing his lips, "non c'est du sexe."

"Sex. They're talking about sex," James announces, like he's worked out a great problem. "I
think?"

"Your critical-thinking skills astound me, James," Regulus says, and James busts out
laughing immediately. Why he finds it so entertaining when Regulus mocks him, Regulus
will never actually understand. He just seems to like everything. Being teased, as well as
praised. He's so strange; he's so lovely.

"Aimez-vous vraiment cela? Je le ferai si vous l'aimez. Je ferais tout ce que tu veux," Sirius
tells Lupin, smiling.

"English, Padfoot, please. Christ," Lupin mutters, looking away furtively as he reaches up to
swipe his hand over his cheek, quite blatantly flustered.

"Je ne pense pas qu'il aime ça," Sirius mumbles to Regulus.

Regulus rolls his eyes, hard. "Je te déteste." He glances at James. "I'm going whether or not
you come with me. If I have to tolerate anymore of—" He lifts his hand and gestures to
Sirius, who scowls, "—then I'll lose fractions of my intelligence by association at, frankly, an
alarming rate."

"Don't be mean, Regulus," James mutters.

"I thought you liked it when I was mean."

"Yeah, to me. Not anyone else, especially Sirius."

"I have unfortunate news for you," Regulus says solemnly, which—surprisingly—makes
Lupin laugh.

"Oh, I get it. He is funny," Lupin says, still chuckling, and Sirius looks mildly betrayed.

"Go away. Take him away, James, before I strangle him. Go have your stupid date," Sirius
complains.

James snorts and tightens his arm around Regulus, tugging on him to get them moving.
"Yeah, alright. I'll see you."

"Nothing shifty!" Sirius calls after them.

"What, you mean I can't shag him in the loo at the Three Broomsticks?" Regulus snarks
back.

"James, don't shag my brother in the loo at the Three Broomsticks!" Sirius yelps.
"No promises!" James shouts and pulls them outside, laughing loudly as Sirius' groan of
despair follows them out.

The trip to Hogsmeade is calm, despite everything. There are students milling about, heading
there or heading back. James is either pretending the attention can't touch him, or he's so used
to attention that he doesn't even notice it.

Regulus is mildly surprised, admittedly. No one bothers them. People stare, and they gossip,
but it's not outright negative or threatening. Of course, there are the inescapable glances of
disgust, or harsh looks, but they're quickly tucked away like it's an opinion that needs to be
hidden, like they'll be shamed for it, rather than rallied behind in ready agreement. There's far
less than Regulus was prepared for.

He thinks it's because of James. It's one of those situations where it's like someone famous
has done something that only they can get away with because of that fame. Because he's
adored by too many for the minority to really have a voice, and the majority would feel
stupid at this point for adoring him as long and loudly as they have already. He's the golden
boy; Head Boy, brilliant, a Quidditch star; he's kind to the younger years and routinely
creates pranks and parties with his mates that provide the school with regular entertainment.
People love and hate him, and they want to be him, or be with him; it's a hard set of feelings
to untangle, especially in an attempt to smear his reputation this late into his reputation.

Regulus is different. He was never popular the way James is. It was always about his status to
the masses, excluding his true friends, and that was stripped away from him the moment he
was disowned. People changed their tune so quickly that he could hardly keep up, and he's
still adjusting to it. In a way, he finds he doesn't mind. There's some sort of relief in knowing
who his true friends are, as well as those that aren't.

It doesn't help that Regulus isn't like James. He's not approachable; he's not instinctively kind
to others; he's not easy to like. This doesn't bother him, has never bothered him, but it's not
helpful when it comes to the shifting tides of public opinion. What James gets away with,
Regulus can't.

In fairness, it's also about who one associates with, even when it's not by choice. There are a
lot of purebloods in Slytherin, particularly of the Sacred Twenty-eight, meaning Regulus is
exposed to them a lot more than James is. There's also just the different ways they deal with
it. James is so aloof about it, casual in the way he presents it, like it's on everyone else to deal
with it, or just get the fuck out of his way, because he's not ashamed and nothing they say or
do could change that. There's a strange freedom in that, and it garners respect.

Regulus, on the other hand, hasn't dealt with it. Before James, he was careful and neutral. He
gave nothing away, nor stood his ground. It's risky to do what he is now, with James, but a
part of him is so grateful that he has the chance to. It feels like James has given him a safe
space to do it, to be him, to figure out how to give away what he shouldn't have to hide, and
stand his ground, and not be ashamed. Because he was. And sometimes he still is, though he's
learning not to be.

In the same breath, it's dangerous. It's Regulus' life in a way it isn't James', because his future
consists of some lovely girl and a traditional happy ending, and no matter what he did here in
Hogwarts with Regulus, or whether or not he'll proudly announce that he's queer for the rest
of his life, people will still overlook it for the life he will lead in the future. A box for people
to put him in, regardless of how many times he busts his way out. In its own way, that's sad,
too. James isn't fit for boxes; he shouldn't have to bust his way out.

But at least he'll be safe.

That was a reason. Regulus hadn't said, and he can't bring himself to say it now, likely never,
but that was a reason he said no to this whole idea in the first place. Because regardless of the
fact that he thought he hated James, he'd never wish this sort of danger on anyone, not even
his worst enemy—and James was technically his worst enemy at the time, in his mind, so he
can say that for certain.

Except—and here's the awful part—Regulus is selfish. He is so very selfish. Because James
kept coming, kept trying, kept showing up until Regulus couldn't get enough of him, wanted
more of him, had to fucking have him any way he could. That indifference shifted into
interest so quickly, and grew, and grew. And then he was saying yes. He said yes, because
he's selfish, and he wants James, and he doesn't want to be alone in this anymore. He
shouldn't have, but he did, and now…

Well, he wishes he could bring himself to regret it.

He doesn't. Not one bit.

"Alright," James announces cheerfully, "I've a pocket of galleons with your name on it, lover.
Where do you want to start first?"

"Scrivenshaft's," Regulus says.

James blinks. "The quill shop?"

"I need a new quill."

"I—yeah, alright. Sure. Let's get you a new quill."

They get him a new quill. It takes nearly an hour, because James doesn't know how to do
anything seriously. He picks up quill after quill and reaches out to tickle Regulus' ear, nose,
or cheek with the feather, no matter how many times Regulus swats him away and hisses
empty threats. They spend about twenty minutes fussing back and forth over the quality of a
select variety of different inks, and James looks like he's having the time of his life. If he's
honest, so is Regulus.

"Alright, that's all I needed, really," Regulus admits when they leave the shop, a small bag
swinging from James' hand.

"Well, what about what you want?" James asks, turning on the spot and coming to a halt so
suddenly that Regulus nearly bumps into him, managing to catch himself only a step away.

For a moment, there's a thick silence between them, the loud sounds of Hogsmeade alive with
students and adults alike fading into a muted background. Regulus helplessly looks at James'
mouth, and he wishes with a weak, flimsy conviction that James would stop asking him what
he wants.
When he snatches his gaze back up, their kiss—and not the one for show, but the one in
private—is playing on repeat in Regulus' head. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, and
he looks at James with this awful, wonderful shaky feeling coursing through all of his limbs.
James drops the bag to the ground carelessly and reaches for Regulus, going right for it,
because of course he'd do that.

"Honeydukes!" Regulus blurts out, the word louder than he means for it to be, as well as at a
higher pitch than he would like. It does the trick, though. James wrenches back, blinking
rapidly. Regulus exhales slowly. "We should—Honeydukes. I want to go to Honeydukes, if
that's alright."

"Er, yeah. That's—yeah, let's do that," James mumbles, lifting his hand to scratch the side of
his head. He regards Regulus for a beat, then starts looking around like he's lost something,
except he has no idea what. That sort of busy movement meant to distract, and it works a
treat, because he eventually locates the bag and scoops it back up, even if it was obvious that
he wasn't looking for it. He clears his throat. "Shall we go?"

"Sure," Regulus says, strained, and so they do.

Honeydukes dissolves all the strange tension between them, partially just because it's such a
busy place, but also because it doesn't take James any time at all to get excited. He, like most,
really enjoys the ridiculous assortment of sweets, delighted to get lost in the seemingly
endless selection.

Regulus is happy enough to stroll along, admittedly charmed by James' unabashed joy. He
answers honestly when he doesn't think he'll like something, and he tries everything that
James offers him. There's something fun about this, about walking around and chatting
amongst themselves among the high rise of chatter surrounding them, the shop always
packed with a large group of students at all times. There's stories to go with certain sweets
and snacks, things that Regulus tells James to make him roar with laughter, memories that
James shares with Regulus that warms him all the way down to his bones.

As for what they buy, well, James is a rich boy with no concept of moderation in the midst of
his excitement, and Regulus has a difficult time telling him no. They end up with enough
sweets to last them both through the rest of the school year, or so Regulus assumes until
James assures him that it won't take but a month for him, Sirius, Peter, and Remus to
demolish the entire stash. The only thing Regulus picks out is a chocolate frog for them each
and a Black Pepper Imps for James.

James' popularity shines in an environment such as this, as there are a lot of people who
speak to him by name. He'll look up, smile and wave, even reply to people by their names
like he remembers them all, but he never gets so distracted that he's drawn away. There are
more than a few notable girls who say James' name with giggles wrapped around it, hair
twirled around fingers, coy smiles flashed with fluttering eyelashes. James is utterly
oblivious. Regulus wants to set them on fire.

As they're coming out of the shop, they run into Sirius and Lupin, who are going in. James
immediately digs out a box of exploding bon-bons and tosses them at Sirius, who catches
them seemingly on instinct. He immediately beams and tears into it, calling out, "Prongs, I
love you! Cheers!" Lupin looks fond, raising a hand to refuse a bon-bon offered to him, but
he does grab Sirius' arm and drag him inside.

"Seems like we're not the only ones on a date," James notes in amusement as he adjusts the
bags on his arm—he insists on carrying them all—and strolls along beside Regulus.

"Theirs is no more real than ours," Regulus murmurs.

James clicks his tongue. "Well, they actually fancy each other, at least." He pauses, then
looks horrified. "Wait, I didn't say that. Pretend you didn't hear that. Reg—"

"Calm down, Potter, I already knew," Regulus says, rolling his eyes and ignoring the way his
heart sinks a little. It's fine. He did already know. James doesn't fancy him; he knows that.
The reminder is good. "I knew they fancied each other before you said it. This isn't ground-
breaking information."

"Right, but I'm not meant to be confirming anything. I'm their best friend, so even with how
ridiculous it is at times, I have to keep their secrets," James mutters, heaving a sigh. "Don't
tell anyone, but sometimes I want to just—do it anyway. Just sit them both down and—well,
spill their feelings for each other to each other, but that's not fair, is it? Me getting involved
like that. They have to do it themselves. They will."
"Still think you should lock them in a cupboard."

"Snogging isn't the answer to everything, you know."

Then why do you keep trying to do it? Regulus thinks with a pinch of frustration, but all he
says is, "Well, I think it'd clear some things up for Sirius, at least."

"I—" James snorts. "Yeah, alright, you have a point." He chuckles and looks around. "Where
to next, for us?"

"I don't care."

"Thirsty?"

"I could go for a drink," Regulus says.

James grins. "To the Three Broomsticks we go. Lead the way, lover."

"What did I say about that?" Regulus grumbles as he starts heading in the direction of the
Three Broomsticks, as if his heart doesn't do some stupid twirling maneuver every single
fucking time James calls him that.

"Sweetheart?"

"No."

"Angel?"
"No."

"Baby?" James tries, and Regulus gives him a flat look. This only makes James waggle his
eyebrows. "No? Why not, baby?"

"Potter."

"Yes, baby?"

Regulus glares at him. "No."

"Oh, don't take that tone, duck—"

"Just as bad as ducky, and again, no."

"Dear? You called me dear? It was cute."

"No."

James huffs. "You're impossible. Why won't you let me do the terms of endearment thing?
I've always wanted to do that."

"Don't you do that with all your friends and those stupid, pointless nicknames you have for
each other?" Regulus asks, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Well, you know, I suppose that's one way to look at it," James replies, amused.
"There, you see, you've been doing it all along and didn't even realize it. Brilliant, leave me
out of it."

"Sure, love, whatever you like."

"Potter," Regulus warns, but oh, that one. That one. Love, and lover; what Regulus would not
give to be both to James.

"I like that one," James comments softly, lips curling up, and Regulus briefly fantasizes about
punching him in the face, or just snogging him and never resurfacing for air.

Regulus shakes his head and turns away as he pushes open the door to the Three
Broomsticks, immediately seeking out the sheltered corners where he would usually reside
with his friends when they came here. There's a booth in the far corner, open and secluded,
and Regulus just needs a moment to gather his wits about him, so he mumbles for James to
get them drinks, then begs off to take a minute. He stuffs himself into the booth and breathes,
and breathes, and breathes.

It's unfair, really, that he's no less tangled up by the time James comes back. Whatever
progress he might have made in calming down is immediately blown to bits by James sliding
into the booth right next to him, close enough that their sides touch and their elbows knock.
He has no sense of personal space, and some wicked, masochistic part of Regulus' brain
rejoices in this fact. Thank Merlin for that.

"I've found some of my friends," James declares warmly, plunking down two butterbeers with
a broad smile. He nods over to a table about mid-way through the room where McKinnon,
Lily, Macdonald, Pettigrew, and another girl sits. He even lifts his hand and waves, getting
waves back.

"Are they going to bother us?" Regulus asks, scanning the room to see if any of his friends
are here. It takes him a moment, but Dorcas is just a table away from James' friends with two
out of three of her dormmates; Pandora is sitting with a small group of Ravenclaws; while
Evan and Barty have claimed a corner on the other side of the room, chatting with a few
Slytherins Regulus only vaguely recognizes.
"No," James says.

Regulus raises his eyebrows. "Would you rather be sitting over there with them?"

"Well, you know, dates usually consist of two," James tells him, looking amused still. "Unless
you want to double up and invite Sirius and Remus when they get in?"

"I'd really rather not, thank you," Regulus mutters dryly.

James chuckles and lays his arm on the back of the booth behind Regulus' shoulders, leaning
in towards him with a slow smile. It drives Regulus mad immediately. "Whatever you want.
I'm doting on you, remember? Do you feel doted on?"

"You could do better," Regulus declares, which makes James duck his head forward and stifle
a laugh.

"I've bribed you with sweets and a quill and now a drink. What more do you want from me?"

"I'm afraid there's nothing you can do to please me, Potter. I'll never be satisfied."

"Greedy, needy thing, you are," James teases, lighthearted, and he reaches up as he lifts his
head to do that thing with Regulus' hair again. Winding some of the waves around his fingers
like he's brushing knuckles with a stream.

Regulus takes in a small breath and does a quick glance around the room. They've gathered
attention. "People are watching us, you know."

"Don't look at them," James murmurs. "Look at me."

"Is it that simple for you?" Regulus asks quietly, flicking his gaze back to James, and really, it
is easier to focus on him.

James gives him a lopsided smile. "Don't have to see anyone else if I'm too busy looking at
you."

"You're not worried?"

"Are you?"

"I have to be," Regulus whispers.

"I won't let anything happen to you," James declares simply, with an easy assurance that
Regulus knows means he truly, deeply believes that. As if it's that simple. As if he can protect
everyone, and will, and would love to.

Regulus sighs. "James, I hate to be the one to—ruin this idealistic worldview you have, but
it's not that simple. Not for me. Things will happen to me. They already have."

"You mean...like getting removed from the team?" James asks slowly, carefully, chewing on
the concept.

"That's one example, yes," Regulus murmurs. "Why do you think I was staying late after
practices? It hadn't been expressly said that I was unwanted, but it was felt. There are people
who won't—who will never accept me, or people like me, and I don't really mind so much,
but I won't pretend that it doesn't affect my life, even in the smallest of ways. It's everything
from where I sit in class, to whether or not I'll find a venomous snake in my bed. Do you
understand?"

James withdraws his hand slowly and swallows. "When you say venomous snake, do
you…?"
"We named him Salazar, as was most fitting, but we call him Zar," Regulus admits, lips
twitching.

"You have a pet snake?"

"Evan, Barty, and I do. Dorcas and Pandora as well, by extension. They're in our dorm as
often as we are sometimes, honestly. Zar is really quite stupid, actually."

"I—of course. Of course you do," James mumbles, shaking his head, but then he leans away.
He keeps leaning away, putting space between them, much to Regulus' internal dismay. "I
haven't thought about… Merlin, Regulus, I didn't even realize. I'm sorry. It's like—I suppose
I just thought it was one of those things I could...manifest into being better, just by doing it,
just by standing up for it. But I wouldn't—I need you to know I'd never endanger you; I never
meant to. We can stop. Of course we can. I'll just—"

"No," Regulus says firmly, reaching out to clamp down on James' arm, holding his gaze. "No,
James. We're in this now. I'm in it now."

"Regulus," James whispers, looking stricken, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't—I never
realized I was… Did I—have I mucked up your life? You said—you said once that someone
might try to kill you for this, but I just—I assumed, maybe, that I could just fight them for
you, but it goes beyond that, doesn't it? And I've made it worse. I've—"

"This was my choice," Regulus snaps, and James jolts, his eyes going wide. Regulus forces
himself to soften his voice. "I made this choice, James, knowing all the things you didn't
understand yet, and may never have to understand; and I hope you never do. But I did this
because—well, partially because I have nothing to lose. Because why shouldn't I? They all
do, boys with their stupid girlfriends, and girls with their stupid boyfriends. I'm just a boy
with a stupid boyfriend; that's the only difference. And that's my right. At least, with you,
there's a chance it'll actually make a difference."

"Do you want to make a difference?" James asks softly.

Regulus doesn't, really. He's not the type of person to make a stand. He'd rather be safe, given
the choice between changing the world for the better and ensuring he never has to hurt for it.
But either option is nothing in comparison to James. He doesn't care if he changes the world,
but he'd bleed out if it meant James would hold him while he did.

"If it happens, well, let's call it a happy accident," Regulus murmurs, his lips curling at the
corners.

"Yeah, alright," James agrees, face softening. "It's really brave of you, you know, no matter
your reasons." Regulus struggles not to drop his gaze, because he knows it has nothing to do
with bravery, or courage. This—all of it—is rooted in his selfishness. "You set the rules, then.
If—if I'm doing something wrong, or making things harder for you, then you tell me. You tell
me, and I'll stop. I swear it."

"You're alright, James. You're not doing anything wrong. This is you too, isn't it?" Regulus
says more gently than he usually gets, reaching down to grab James' wrist and tug his hand
back up to his hair. James takes the hint and goes back to playing with the strands, biting
down on a smile.

"Your hair is so soft," James whispers, watching his own fingers, seemingly fascinated. "It's
lovely."

Regulus fights for his life not to respond outwardly to this, resorting to looking away for a
distraction, only to be mildly startled when his gaze meets Lily Evans' over James' shoulder.
It feels like his stomach bottoms out, because she's among the many people that are watching
them; her gaze is curious, and it doesn't feel like a threat, not traditionally. It's her curiosity
that's the threat, really, because interest can shift and form into other things, especially for
James. Regulus knows.

Swallowing, Regulus looks back at James and forces himself to speak past the lump forming
in his throat. "Lily Evans is watching you."

"She is?" James asks, breaking out into a grin immediately. It's sad the impact it has on
Regulus, when it's all for her.
"Seems curious," Regulus croaks, then clamps his mouth shut, because no. Genuinely, he
can't. He's too selfish of a person to even try it; he can already feel the bitterness settling in. If
he's not careful, he'll resent James for it. He doesn't want to.

"Well, we're very interesting, aren't we?" James teases, completely oblivious to Regulus'
inner turmoil.

"I'm really quite boring," Regulus reminds him.

James laughs softly and scoots in closer, the pads of his fingers brushing down the arc of
Regulus' cheek, and for a moment, it is so easy to pretend the reverence in the caress actually
means something. "You're really not."

"James," Regulus says, sounding weak to his own ears. James is cupping his jaw now, and it's
not fair, it's not fair, it's not—

"Can I?" James mumbles, quiet and private like he's not putting on a show, and Regulus
wants it to be real so much that he lets himself believe it is, just for a moment.

Regulus tilts his face up and breathes out, "Yes."

James leans in with an exhale that sounds punched out, but then he hesitates. "Is it safe?"

"No," Regulus admits, then fists the lapel of his coat and pulls him in anyway, eyes drifting
shut the moment their lips meet.

How is Regulus meant to care about the world when it goes out of focus and melts away so
easily? What are the rest of them compared to James, this close, blocking everyone and
everything else out? It's just James, just his lovely mouth, and the sinful way he uses it, not
even seeming to realize it. He kisses the way he does everything else, with his whole body,
his whole heart, his whole soul; he pours himself into it like he's bubbling over, eager and
earnest and lost.
Regulus loses himself, too. It's so easy, so dangerously effortless, to lose himself in James.
The heat of his mouth, the tantalizing slide of his tongue, the unabashed shakiness of his
breath against Regulus' lips, like his very lungs are trembling. He likes it. There's no way he
could pretend this well, or that's what Regulus tells himself, and there's some pride in that. If
nothing else, if James doesn't want him, the snogging clearly has an effect. Regulus is
overwhelmed by it, by how desperately he never wants it to end, which is why it has to.

Regulus turns his head away, pressing his face into the booth with his eyes clamped shut
tight. His heart is racing, and he feels like he's about to rattle apart with all the want that's
coursing through him. His mouth falls open a little when James, persistent and single-minded
James, just shifts the kiss along his jaw, curled around him in such a way that no one would
be able to see them anyway, even if there's no room for doubt about what it is they're actually
doing.

"That's enough, isn't it?" Regulus rasps.

"Merlin, no," James replies, distracted and focused, pressing in closer like enough is just a
concept of which there is no such thing.

"No, no, it is. That's enough, James," Regulus tells him, pushing gently against James' chest
to get him to rock back.

"Sorry," James blurts out, blinking hard. He drags his hand up from the side of Regulus'
throat to splay it out along his cheek, his thumb reaching to press into his bottom lip, tenderly
tugging it down and watching it bounce back up when he abruptly lets go. "Sorry, just… Your
mouth is, ah, very…"

Regulus studies James' face, drinking in the features slack with distant thoughts, his hazy
gaze. He prompts, "Very…?"

"Very," James emphasizes, like that explains it.

"My mouth is...very very?"

"So very."

"You're ridiculous," Regulus murmurs, lips twitching.

James grins reflexively, like the smile Regulus refused to let finish transferred to him instead.
"Oh, better that than being regrettably normal. I pity all those who aren't even the least bit
ridiculous. How terribly mundane their lives must be."

"I'd like a mundane life," Regulus muses.

"No you wouldn't," James denies, eyes crinkling as he relaxes back in his seat and resumes
idly playing with Regulus' hair, looking pleased with himself. "And you won't. I'll keep your
life exciting, Regulus, I promise."

"Goodness, don't plan to be in my life as long as I live it. Nothing will have me rushing to
stop faster."

"Oh, that was mean to me and you. How do you do that?"

Regulus arches an eyebrow. "It comes naturally to me."

James chortles, simply delighted, and he inclines his head to the glasses on the table. "Go on,
drink your butterbeer. We'll sit here and chat about whatever you like, and then we'll go
wherever you want to go, and then we'll do whatever you want to do. It's your day, love."

Regulus takes the immediate opportunity to practically dive into his drink, resisting the
ridiculous urge to either squirm or melt, or some odd mixture of both. James lets this prompt
him to also reach out with his free hand to drink, but his other remains tangled gently and
lazily with Regulus' curls. Regulus lets him do whatever he likes. That's the real danger.
It's strange, honestly, how easy it is to talk to James. Perhaps it shouldn't be, considering the
inner struggle Regulus faces whenever he's near, but that's part of the problem, really. James
is easy to talk to, to open up to, to listen to. He's attentive, engaging, and funny. He's also so
very curious, or at least very good at pretending he is, but Regulus thinks it's authentic. James
does everything with sincerity, so his eagerness to listen, to ask questions, to learn more—
that's real. If nothing else, that's real.

Regulus has always been a person of fewer words than most. Walburga and Orion believed in
their children being seen, not heard. Presentable at all times, but unobtrusive. This didn't
mesh well with who Sirius is as a person, so that was a strike against him from the very
beginning. Regulus, on the other hand, learned quickly that holding his tongue and remaining
in the background was just—less damaging, honestly.

But, really, Regulus has things to say; not many people care to listen, is all. Coming to
Hogwarts had given him a voice, albeit not one at the volumes Sirius is capable of. With
Evan, Barty, Dorcas, and Pandora, Regulus has found his willing ears, those that always take
interest in the things he has to say. But that's if and when he'll say them. When staying quiet
and keeping one's thoughts to themselves becomes instinctive, it's not often a habit broken.
Regulus does it rarely, mostly with his trusted friends, even a bit with Sirius now.

James, though… It's like he just draws it out of Regulus. What it is, really, is his blatant
curiosity, his shameless desire to know more, the earnest way he waits for whatever Regulus
will give him; unaware that Regulus would honestly give him any damn thing he wants, even
the hidden thoughts that usually never leave the safety of his own head.

And James? Goodness, James is so free with himself. He just opens his mouth and lets
tumble out whatever he's thinking with barely a pause, without weighing each syllable for the
impact it could have on the world around him. When one is instinctively kind and has
nothing to hide, they likely don't have to. Regulus wonders what that's like. He's also grateful
for it in any case, because he takes everything he learns about James and internally hoards it
away in his head like a niffler stuffing gold into an endless pouch.

James remembers things as well, which becomes obvious when, as they're leaving the Three
Broomsticks, he asks, "Did you ever finish your book? The one with the four children getting
lost in the world hidden in the wardrobe?"
"I did," Regulus admits. "I'm on the last in the series now."

"Favorite quote so far?"

"Who says I have one?"

"Oh, please. As if I didn't see your annotations in the book of sonnets. My book, mind you.
You're like Remus; he does that. Leave little notes and underline things, even his
coursebooks. Sirius finds it adorable, and to be fair, it is."

"Some things are worth making note of, that's all."

"Right." James' lips curl up. "So, favorite quote so far?"

" Remember that all worlds draw to an end and that noble death is a treasure which no one is
too poor to buy," Regulus says. "I read it and made note of it yesterday."

"That's a favorite?" James asks, grinning now.

Regulus fights a smile. "Not really, but I knew you'd like it."

"I do. I do like it," James agrees, looking even more pleased.

James has a bounce in his step from that moment on as they take a final stroll through High
Street before making their way back to the castle. It's getting later now, closer from afternoon
to evening, and they've spent all day in each other's orbit, yet Regulus can't fight the pinch of
disappointment that surges within him at the date—fake date—drawing to a close.

He walks back slowly. James matches his pace.

James walks him all the way back to the dungeons, and only then does he pass over the bags
containing Regulus' spoils, rifling through to dump more Honeydukes sweets in his bag than
he actually picked out. They stand off to the side, but no one's going in or out, leaving them
alone and secluded.

"Thank you," Regulus murmurs once he has his bags.

"Oh, sincere again," James teases, gaze warm. "I told you we'd have fun. Didn't you have
fun?"

"It was torture, really," Regulus replies, and James huffs a laugh before stepping closer,
which makes Regulus quickly and instinctively raise his hand and brace it against the middle
of James' chest, halting him at his sternum. "Ah, that's—well, no one's here, James. It's just
us."

James blinks, then says, "Right, but someone could show up. What sort of boyfriend would I
be not to kiss you at your door once delivering you home after our date? Do I look like
anything less than a gentleman to you, Regulus?"

"James," Regulus mumbles.

"No?" James asks, eyebrows furrowed—not disappointed, just visibly unsure. He doesn't get
it. The kissing doesn't have the same effect on him, the way it does on Regulus, no matter
how much he apparently enjoys it. Hormones; that's all it can be for him. The heart doesn't
reside in the cock, though, even if that can get a bit confusing sometimes. For Regulus, it's an
unfortunate amount of influence from both.

So, he clears his throat and says, "No."

"Alright," James agrees immediately, taking a step back and still smiling through it all. "Then
I bid you goodnight, darling lover of mine. Dream lovely dreams of me."
"Nightmares, you mean?" Regulus asks dryly.

James snorts. "Oh, I'd never wish that upon you. Dream of whatever makes you happy, then.
How's that?"

"Better," Regulus murmurs, lips curling up, failing to mention that those dreams are one in
the same. He steps back and heads for the entrance, pausing only long enough to turn and say,
unbearably soft, "Goodnight, James."

"Goodnight," James replies, equally soft, and he leans his head over against the wall with a
quiet sigh, watching Regulus go.

Regulus makes it swift through the common room, heading right for his dorm and avoiding
everyone else before someone can even try anything, if they would at all. He's not going to
stick around to find out, either way. He makes it safely into his dorm and falls back against
the door with a shaky exhale, squeezing his eyes shut and tucking his lips in. Oh no. Oh gods,
he wants to scream. He feels—he feels so—

"Shit, look at him," Barty blurts out, making Regulus' eyes spring open in surprise. He was
unaware that Barty—and Evan, apparently—had made it back from Hogsmeade already.
Immediately, he's mortified by the fact that they're seeing him giddy and smiling like this.
"He looks so...happy."

"Doesn't he?" Evan says in wonder, shaking his head. He releases an incredulous laugh. "Oh,
mate, you are fucked."

Regulus stifles a groan and lets his head land against the door as he can't help but agree, "So
fucked."

He is so, so fucked. Not in the fun way, either.

 And yet, he regrets nothing.

Chapter End Notes

The translations:

toujours pur — always pure

toujours en famille — always with family
Qu'est-ce que je devrais dire? — What should I say?
C'est le langage de l'amour, James. S'il le dira à quelqu'un, ce sera Lupin — It's the
language of love, James. If he'll say it to anyone, it'll be Lupin.
Si je ne t’aimais pas, je penserais que tu es tellement stupide — If I didn't like you, I'd
think you're so stupid
Je veux te lécher. Je veux t'embrasser jusqu'à ce qu'aucun de nous ne puisse respirer.
Espèce d'imbécile — I want to lick you. I want to kiss you until neither of us can
breathe. You idiot
Es-tu gêné, cousin? — Are you embarrassed, cousin?
Je suis ton frère, et oui, c'est un putain d'embarras! — I'm your brother, and yes, it's a
fucking embarrassment!
Continuez à le faire. Lupin pense que c'est attirant — Keep doing it. Lupin thinks it's
attractive
Vraiment? Tu penses? C'est le langage du sexe — Really? You think? It is the language
of sex
D'amour — Of love
non c'est du sexe — no its sex
Aimez-vous vraiment cela? Je le ferai si vous l'aimez. Je ferais tout ce que tu veux —
Do you really like this? I will if you like it. I would do anything you want
Je ne pense pas qu'il aime ça — I don't think he likes it
Je te déteste — I hate you

again, apologies to any french readers i may have.

on another note, regulus is so fucked. there's no helping him. meanwhile, james is still
just like: kiss??? are we about to kiss right now??? what if we kissed??? his new
hyperfixation is regulus' mouth, and it's ruined him entirely. someone stop him, regulus
is SUFFERING. well, actually, regulus is suffering, but he's happy about it? so, there's
that, at least.

also more jealous james. me, pushing the dorlene rivals to lovers agenda. barty being a
little shit. i love all of them so dearly.

EDIT: SOMEONE HAS HELPED ME WITH THE FRENCH SO IT'S BEEN

UPDATED
 ACT TWO: Part Three
Chapter Notes

no real warnings for this chapter, just some shit parents being shit parents, BUT there is
brother bonding between sirius and regulus, so there's that!

enjoy <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Melanie has potential. She's young, but her passion for the sport is undeniable and provides
promise. It's the way she's so attentive to everything Regulus tells her, eyes wide and focused
like an owl; the way she tries over and over to get a move right and won't move past it until
she has; the way she asks questions eagerly, demands he show her beat-by-beat how to do
whatever she's desperate to learn, and takes extra time past just the Ravenclaw team practices
to meet Regulus on the pitch in the endeavor to improve.

It took Regulus a long time—and being disowned, as well as reconnected with his brother—
to learn that putting in the effort to be good at something is just as admirable as having the
natural talent for it. He's no better than her just because he doesn't have to work as hard; there
was a time he wouldn't have thought that way, not about her, or about himself.

There's something so lovely and relieving about still having a reason to fly as well. To come
to the pitch, get on a broom, and let the world fall away. To fly drills and feel even a piece of
the thrill that comes from Quidditch. He doesn't want to admit it to himself, but he misses
playing.

"Crikey, you're brilliant," Melanie gasps out as she follows him to the ground, dumping
herself down on it with her chest heaving, arms outstretched with her broom discarded just
past her lazily splayed fingertips.

Regulus chuckles and leans up against his broom, not quite as worn out as her. In fairness,
he's had a few more years of practice with this. "You're going to hate that you've gotten down
there, because you're not going to want to get back up."
"Oh, don't make me get back up," Melanie groans, dragging an arm over to toss it across her
eyes. "Sit down, yeah? Just give me a minute. Maybe two. Or ten."

"Tired, are you?" Regulus drawls, but he does prop up against his broom to sink down to the
ground, shifting to lay his broom across his lap. He drags it down and starts dusting off the
handle with his sleeve. He needs to polish it.

"You're brutal," Melanie declares, but she sounds approving, like she appreciates this about
him. He just hums, and she lifts her arm to look at him. "It's a shame I won't get to play
against you in a match. A proper one, I mean."

"Count your lucky stars. I'd demolish you."

"Yeah, but it'd be cool."

"Ah, and that's the important bit, is it?"

"Obviously."

"Right." Regulus' lips twitch. "I suppose it is a shame, then."

Melanie props up on one elbow and starts distractedly tearing at the grass, eyebrows
furrowed. "Did they really just kick you off because you—you have a boyfriend?"

"In a manner of speaking," Regulus admits carefully, unwilling to explain the more sordid
details, like how the team was worried he'd be swooning over their cocks or something.

"It's stupid," Melanie offers, and Regulus hums in quiet agreement. She purses her lips.
"What do you even—"
"What?"

"Just… What do you even like about them?"

"Them?" Regulus asks.

"Boys," Melanie clarifies.

Regulus' eyebrows jump up against his will. He eyes her for a moment, then says, "How old
are you?"

"Fourteen," Melanie mutters. "Just turned."

"Mm. Well, what do you like about boys, Melanie?" Regulus replies sardonically, because
she's at that age where she would have some idea, surely.

"I like when they're quiet," Melanie says.

"You—" Regulus blinks, startled into a laugh, and she grins at him a little sheepishly. He
keeps laughing for a moment, soft and quiet, genuinely amused. "Oh, well, sure. Yeah,
alright."

"That's—that's it, really," Melanie mumbles, her smile fading a little. She looks at him, then
drops her gaze, plucking at the grass with visible anxiety. Her voice is quiet, lowered, merely
a breath when she speaks next. "I don't like anything else."

"No?" Regulus asks, tilting his head.

Melanie is silent for a long moment, then she audibly swallows and looks up, speaking in a
sudden rush to announce, "It's shit because all my friends are suddenly talking about boys
now, about fancying them, but I don't. I just—don't get it. There's a boy in our year, Billy
Unwenby—"

"Unfortunate name."

"Right?! Thank you. Anyway, all the girls fancy him because he has nice hair and can sing
really well and plays on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. And it's stupid because I have nice
hair, and I can sing, and I play on a team, but they'll never—"

"Ah," Regulus says when she cuts herself off. Wistfully, he can't help but think Dorcas, I
wish you were here. "You want the girls to fancy you."

"I mean, not all of them," Melanie admits weakly, propping up fully to wrap her arms around
her knees. She looks at him with furrowed eyebrows. "Tina Talcott. She's so pretty, and she's
only a year ahead, but she always talks to me in the common room and helps me with my
Defense essays, and she—she compliments me all the time, but I don't think she's, ah… I
don't think she's like me." Her eyes meet his. "Like us."

Regulus feels really out of his depth at the moment. He is not at all prepared for this, and he's
not entirely sure what he's meant to say to reassure her. It's hard to believe that she's just
telling him this, something he knows for a fact isn't easy to talk about, except apparently with
the people who get it. The safety of having someone who understands. He didn't even know
he could be that for people. Never even wanted to, really, but he suddenly finds himself
grateful that he has. She's only fourteen. He was fourteen when he first started to realize it,
and he remembers how awful he felt.

He also remembers the relief he'd taken from Dorcas. He'd known her, of course, from the
moment he came to be sorted into Slytherin. When he first sat down at the table, being the
first person sorted that year, Dorcas had made room next to her so he could sit across from
Narcissa. A second year girl who still remembered so starkly what it was like to be
overwhelmed by the new introduction to Hogwarts, and she'd smiled at him, just a bit. It
didn't make them instant friends, but by Regulus' third year, they spoke to one another every
time they saw each other and found themselves often studying together, despite their different
coursework.
It wasn't until Regulus' fourth year—Dorcas' fifth—that they got really close. Just a late night
in front of the common room in front of the fireplace, and Dorcas had been complaining
about Avery, who apparently kept asking her out, no matter how many times she told him she
wasn't interested. It was in the middle of her rant that she declared she would never be
interested, not in Avery or any boy, and Regulus—who already had his James Potter related
crisis by this point—actually caught it, as well as the horror that flashed in her eyes. This led
to his late night confession, the very first, and a bond formed so solid between them that not
even the strongest magic could break it. Just simple, unshakable solidarity and safety and
acceptance. Dorcas was the first to know about him, and Regulus was the first to know about
her.

So, he knows what Melanie is seeking out, unconsciously or otherwise. That solidarity,
safety, and acceptance. That tiny nod of one soul to the other, quiet recognition for the things
no one allows themselves to show, if it's there. Something they can see in each other all the
same, without it being a problem.

"I was fourteen, too, when I started working it out," Regulus says slowly. "It does seem
glaringly obvious at times when everyone around you is feeling things that you don't.
Sometimes, you even…" He sighs and gives her a shrug, a resigned thing. "You find yourself
caught up in someone who doesn't want you, and it's not—it's worse, because you already
have so much to struggle with when it comes to yourself, and then there's the thought that
maybe, if the world was different, or you could be different, wanting wouldn't hurt so much."

"I've known since I was nine," Melanie confesses. "Or, I suppose I understood it as much as I
could at the time. I used to play-pretend with the other children on my street, and it was
always the girls marrying the boys, but I… Well, I asked why I couldn't marry a girl, because
I didn't want to marry a boy. They didn't play with me anymore after that."

"Mm, yeah, children are all little bastards," Regulus muses, which makes her laugh.

"It was nice, you know. What you did." Melanie fiddles with a few blades of grass, not
meeting his eyes. "I didn't see it, I wasn't at breakfast that morning, but I heard later, and I… I
just remember that my heart started pounding, and I wanted to—I'm not even sure, really. Fly,
I think. I felt like I was, so I wanted to. I had to hide in the loo because I was smiling like a
lunatic, and then you just—you said it so bluntly at the match, like it was—like it's normal,
and it just…meant a lot. To me."
And if that's it, if this is the one positive thing that comes out of one of the most terrifying
moments of his life, then it's worth it. Regulus has no desire to change the world, but to
change hers, a young girl who he actually finds himself fond of, well, that means a lot to him,
too. It's something not selfish at all, and he's strangely proud of himself for it. For all of it.

"I was scared," Regulus admits.

"Really?" Melanie asks, gaze snapping up, fingers motionless in the grass. "Why'd you do it,
then?"

"Well, I didn't know it at the time," Regulus says, lips curling up against his will, "but I
reckon I was doing it for you."

"And you?" Melanie asks, grinning, her eyes lighting up.

Regulus huffs a soft laugh and tilts his head back to look up at the sky, his chest feeling like it
has expanded bigger than it normally ever does, like he could fit so much in it. "And me."

Dreadful parents must be in some sort of awful sync where they're the most dreadful so close
together. Either that, or Regulus' parents and Evan's dad (not his mum, who honestly spoils
him as much as she can get away, being overshadowed by her own husband and all) have
gotten in touch to make their lives a lot worse around the same time, on purpose.

"You're fucking joking," Evan spits out in disbelief, eyes bulging as he stares at Slughorn like
he's absolutely mental. "You're absolutely mental."

Slughorn raises his eyebrows, but looks weary. "Mr. Rosier, I know this may
seem...excessive, but the threat of you being pulled from the school entirely was very
imminent, as was made apparent to me. This was—"
"That fucking hogwash of a sodding cunt," Evan hisses, his entire face twisting as his eyes
flash with rage. "He can't do this. He can't just—that's not—"

"You're right, he can't," Regulus agrees. "I'll go."

"Shut up, Reg," Barty and Evan say in unison.

"I'm not joking," Regulus insists. "The problem is obviously me, so I'll just—you can stay.
Why should you have to—"

"You're not a problem, and I'm not letting my father run you out of the fucking dorm," Evan
says sharply. "Don't you dare. He already ruins my life; I'm not letting him ruin yours, too."

"As such," Slughorn says delicately, "the Headmaster would not permit it without your—ah,
well, without the interference of a student's parents. It's Mr. Rosier's father that's...placed the
complaint, so it revolves solely around him. You will remain in your dorm, Mr. Black. Mr.
Rosier, otherwise…"

"Can't you just lie and say you did?" Barty mumbles.

"No, of course not, because someone would make sure it gets back to him somehow," Evan
snarls, pacing back and forth in front of his bed. "A load of wankstains with no fucking—"

"Mr. Rosier, is the filth absolutely necessary?"

"Piss off, Slughorn."

"Now, see here—"

Regulus clears his throat. "He doesn't mean it, Professor. Just a bit heated at the moment, is
all." Glancing over at Evan, he gives him a sharp, significant look. "It's fine. Just do it,
yeah?"

"It's not fine," Evan bites out. "It's my fucking dorm, my life, my friends, and my bloody
decisions! I'm not—"

"Mr. Rosier," Slughorn interrupts, "I'm afraid he will remove you from the school if—if that's
what he feels it'll come to."

Evan's eyes sink shut, his jaw clenched, and then he releases a heavy sigh before slowly
opening his eyes. He regards Slughorn with his lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm seventeen in
nearly three months. He can't snatch me out then, can he?"

"No," Slughorn agrees. "He can't do anything when you're legally an adult, not if you don't
agree to it. He may try, but if you wish to stay, then you'll stay."

"No one replaces me," Evan declares, holding Slughorn's gaze, cutting in when he tries to
open his mouth. "No. No, I'll go without a fuss for three months, fine, but I'm not bloody
swapping out with someone, yeah? Put me in a fucking cupboard for all I care, but no one
else comes here."

Slughorn looks strained. "I—well, it's not as simple as you'd think to find available
accommodations, Mr. Rosier. The simplest solution would be to swap with—"

"Yeah, the simplest solution for you," Evan snaps, crossing his arms. "Not the simplest for
Regulus."

"Evan," Regulus warns, an edge to his tone.

Scoffing, Evan raises a hand at him, clearly in no mood to deal with him at the moment. "No,
there's no use pretending that inviting someone in our dorm won't lead to trouble. Find
another solution, or—"

"I told you, m'boy," Slughorn says wearily, "it's not that simple. Solutions don't just fall from
the skies into our laps."

"Well, you have to think about them, you see," Barty drawls lazily, arching an eyebrow. "It
requires a bit of logic and intelligence to go at a problem, so do you not have logic and
intelligence, Professor, or are you—"

"Now, see here," Slughorn cuts in, audibly and visibly offended.

"The Head Boy dorm," Regulus says.

Slughorn sputters for a moment, blinking, and even Barty and Evan glance at him curiously.
"The—I beg your pardon?"

"The Head Boy dorm," Regulus repeats, slower. "Evan can go there. It's not used."

"That may be, Mr. Black, but Mr. Rosier is not the Head Boy, and it's just not done,"
Slughorn replies. "That's separate space for the Head Boy, as he's earned."

"The Head Boy won't mind," Regulus informs him dryly, arching an eyebrow. "I know this
because the Head Boy is my boyfriend, you see."

Barty breaks out into a grin, and Evan huffs a soft laugh, his eyes lighting up as he says, "Ah,
yes, that's a solution. Why not ask him, Professor? It's only for three months, and if he
doesn't mind, what's the harm? Unless you condone endangering students? Surely not, sir."
"I—well, no, of course not, but—" Slughorn looks a little harassed, glancing around at all of
them, and Regulus is quite sure the poor man would like a drink. Or five. "Oh, yes, alright.
Gather your things, Mr. Rosier. We'll go speak with Professor McGonagall and the Head Boy
to see what comes of it. If either of them take issue with the idea, then it'll be a swap for three
months, and that's final."

"Oh, I like our odds," Evan mutters, flicking his wand at his trunk and fixing a look on Barty.
"Stay here. No one comes in, yeah? Put them in the hall for all I care."

"Of course," Barty says, grinning.

Slughorn, who still looks bewildered and harried, does a double-take when shifting out of the
way of books that fly off of Evan's stand to go in his trunk. "Is that a snake?"

"No," Regulus, Evan, and Barty chorus as one.

"An illusion," Barty offers.

"It's not even there," Evan agrees.

"Are you feeling alright, Professor?" Regulus asks.

"I—" Slughorn shakes his head, then deliberately turns away with a harrumph. "Oh, let's just
—let's be off."

Flustered and agitated as he is, Slughorn doesn't even seem to notice that Regulus follows
them out a few moments later. He grabs Evan's trunk just to have an excuse, but Slughorn
seems so exhausted from all this already.

When they make it to McGonagall's office, she's remarkably unfazed by the sight of three
Slytherins, of various ages, seeking a meeting with her. She invites them in, then listens to the
situation and the proposed solution, giving absolutely nothing away in her infuriatingly
neutral expression. Then, at the end, she stands and announces that it relies entirely on what
Mr. Potter would like to do. At this, Evan looks smug.

The journey from her office to the Gryffindor common room entrance is a fairly quick one.
McGonagall always moves like she has places to be, purpose in her stride, which Regulus
secretly appreciates about her. Evan and Slughorn, less so, who look like they'd prefer not to
rush to keep up.

At the entrance, the portrait swings open, and McGonagall steps through instantly, but the
portrait doesn't swing shut immediately after her. The sound of laughter and chatter pours out,
and Regulus instantly recognizes Sirius' bark of laughter; he's quite sure he could pick it out
miles away. As one, Evan and Regulus share a look and lean to the side at the same time,
peering inside as McGonagall calls sharply for James.

Regulus sees Sirius, James, Pettigrew, and Lupin all look up and swivel at the same time,
wary expressions on their faces, like they're all in trouble if one of them is. However, when
they catch a glimpse of Regulus and Evan waiting outside, it takes only seconds for James
and Sirius to spring up from the sofa.

"Just Mr. Potter," McGonagall declares.

"Just—what? But Regulus is out there," is Sirius' immediate protest. "He's my brother. Why
shouldn't I—"

"Mr. Black, this matter does not concern you, and let's not pretend that Mr. Potter won't tell
you every detail the moment he returns," McGonagall replies, exasperated. "Now, Potter, if
you'd follow me…"

Regulus and Evan straighten up as McGonagall leads James out, who looks at Regulus
curiously, though not without a touch of worry. He glances around at everyone, clearly
having no idea what's going on, and confusion on anyone else would be irritating or
vindictively amusing, but on him, it's just… Well, cute, honestly. It's so horribly cute.
"Er, what's this about?" James asks cautiously.

"Professor Slughorn and Mr. Rosier are here with a request that's well within your right to
refuse. Mr. Black—" McGonagall pauses and glances at him, looking briefly startled. "Why
are you here, Mr. Black?"

"Incentive," Regulus admits. He tilts his head and lifts his hand, waving his fingers a little.
"I'm the boyfriend. He's not going to say no to me."

"Now, see here," Slughorn sputters, looking close to tossing his hands up, much to Evan's
amusement.

"Evan's father doesn't want him to share a dorm with me, and he still has three months before
he's seventeen, so it's either listen or be taken out of school," Regulus continues, raising his
eyebrows at James, who presses his lips into a thin line.

"That's—" James' nostrils flare, and then he gives a sharp nod, jaw clenched. "Yes, well—
yes. However I can help, obviously. I mean, I'm not sure exactly how I can help, but yeah."

"Mr. Potter, they haven't made the request yet," McGonagall tells him, lips pursed slightly.
Regulus can't tell if she's disapproving or just struggling not to laugh.

"It's still a yes, but go on," James allows, shrugging.

"The Head Boy dorm," Regulus says.

James' eyes do not light up with recognition. He has no idea what this has to do with
anything, and yet, he still just nods his head and declares, "Yeah, sure, alright. Whatever you
want."
"You're fine with this?" McGonagall asks, an eyebrow sweeping up as she peers at him over
her glasses.

"Completely fine."

"Potter, what exactly are you fine with?"

"Ah, the...Head Boy dorm?" James ventures sheepishly.

McGonagall sighs. "They wish to place Mr. Rosier in the Head Boy dorm—your dorm,
technically—for the three months until his birthday. Is that something you're agreeable
with?"

"Oh!" James blinks, then snorts. "Oh, yeah, sure. I don't use it. Why would I care about
that?"

"Mr. Potter, it's your earned space as Head Boy," Slughorn reminds him.

James shrugs again. "Yeah, but I like the dorm I share with my friends. By the time Head Girl
and Boy are appointed, they usually do in any case, so they hardly use the dorms anyway. I've
never even slept in the bed. It's all yours, Rosier."

"That's helpful, Potter," Evan muses. "You're alright."

"Oh, cheers," James says, perking up.

Regulus rolls his eyes. "If you two are done bonding…"
"Right, yes, Mr. Black is correct," McGonagall says. "Professor Slughorn, if you'll escort Mr.
Rosier to his new dorm and assure his father that he's been...accommodated—" She says this
with a faint note of distaste in her tone, "—then that will be all. Thank you, Mr. Potter, for
your willingness to help. Five points to Gryffindor. And, as I understand it, this was Mr.
Black's sharp thinking that provided a solution, so five points to Slytherin as well."

"Well, now I just feel left out," Evan says.

"Goodnight, Mr. Rosier," McGonagall mutters before promptly sweeping off.

"Five points to Slytherin, Mr. Rosier, for enduring such a shit of a father," James mumbles,
lips twitching. The points won't count if they're not coming from a Professor, but the
sentiment makes Evan chuckle anyway.

Slughorn looks tired. "That's not—"

"I'm walking you back to the dungeons," James announces to Regulus.

"Come, Mr. Rosier, let's get you settled in," Slughorn mutters, waving him along, and Evan
follows with a final smirk thrown in Regulus' direction, the prat.

James watches them go, looking close to laughing. "That poor man looks like he's ready to
tear his hair out. You've been a menace, haven't you? You and your friends?"

"No more than usual," Regulus murmurs, turning to head for the stairs with James dutifully
strolling along with him.

"Ah, that explains it, then. The usual is bad enough."

"Surely you're not saying that, considering you and who your friends are."
"You...may have a point," James allows as they start taking stairs down. Regulus very nearly
goes right through a step when it vanishes, too focused on the width of James' shoulders out
of the corner of his eye, but James reaches out to cup his elbow to keep him from stumbling.
"Clumsy today, are we?"

"Shut it, Potter," Regulus grumbles, getting his footing and carrying on as if it never
happened, though his face burns. James keeps a hand on his arm, and it's steadily sneaking its
way down, creeping closer to his hand.

"I'm sorry, you know," James murmurs, just before his fingers slide in between Regulus'.
"About—" He audibly swallows and squeezes Regulus' hand. "I'm sorry that happened. With
Evan, I mean. It's awful for him, I know, but it's also—"

"James," Regulus says quietly, staring down at his shoes.

"It's wrong, and it's not fair, and I'm sorry," James blurts out in a rush, sounding a bit
miserable. "You don't deserve it. No one deserves it. I hate it. I wish I could do more, help
more—"

Regulus feels his chest clench, and he can't—he just can't. It's too much, all that he feels, all
the ways James makes him feel. Because he's so fucking grateful for him, for how Regulus
can and does trust him, without question. He knew. He knew immediately that James would
help, that James would say yes, because that's just James and because James is fucking
spoiling him, and holding his hand when no one can see, and it's all too much, somehow. It
leaves him bubbling over like a volatile cauldron, because he shouldn't, he knows he
shouldn't, but he can't help it. He genuinely can't.

He turns and presses himself into James, into his chest, into the circle of his arms half-raising
in surprise. Their hands fall apart as Regulus slips his arms around him, pressing his face
against James' shoulder, both as soothed as he's ever been and wound so tight that it's hard to
breathe. There's a small bit of hesitation before James' arms settle around him, holding on
tight to better give the illusion that he'll never let go.
"You did enough," Regulus whispers. You're enough; you're more than enough; this is
enough, he can't bring himself to say.

"I'm so sorry, Regulus," James whispers back, giving comfort like that's more instinctive than
breathing.

When Regulus looks back, after this is all over, this is one of the memories that he'll hold
close to his chest, blood bubbling up and overflowing internally from the tattered tapestry of
his stupid, stupid heart—because this will patch some parts back together, just that they've
held onto each other with no one to see it, with no other reason than because Regulus needed
it.

He'll tuck this memory close for a long, long time. If he can't keep James, at least he'll have
this.

But he can't keep James, not really, so he forces himself to peel away. James, thankfully,
doesn't seem to find the impromptu embrace suspicious, likely just believing that Regulus
wanted the comfort—and he did, but it's more than that. At the heart of everything, at the
heart of himself, it's about wanting James.

They're quiet the rest of the way to the dungeons, but James tangles their fingers together
again and holds his hand the whole way there. He seems to accept Regulus' silence, like he
was anticipating it, and he doesn't push for anything else. Even the shared goodnights are
murmured between them, and then Regulus is slipping inside to head to his dorm.

It feels emptier without Evan.

"He'll be back, Reg," Barty tells him, aiming for casual and nonchalant, but he seems to grasp
how unfair this is. He doesn't bother Regulus when he silently slips into bed.

A new day is supposed to dawn new promise, yet Regulus struggles to find the optimism in
that. He feels awful the next morning and doesn't look for that to change, even if Evan
defiantly sits with him at the Slytherin table. They usually get up and go to breakfast together
while Barty lies in, an absolute terror to wake in the mornings. It was quiet and left Regulus
feeling strangely uneasy without his morning routine with Evan there, because even when
they were sneaking around outside of the dorm, they still had that, at least.

The possibility of a good day goes up in smoke the moment the post comes flooding in. The
bite Regulus was chewing abruptly tastes like ash on his tongue when he sees his father's owl
flying in. Multiple stones drop in his stomach as he watches it swoop down to land right in
front of him, a Howler practically vibrating in the tight clench of a sharp beak.

So close to exploding as it is already, Regulus heaves a sigh and reaches out, blank-faced, to
open it. His only other option is causing an explosion, which he genuinely considers for a
second; Sirius has done that, just let Howlers explode and pretend he didn't even see them.
Mostly, though, they both know ignoring their mother is not a good idea. She can and will get
louder if she doesn't think she's had the last word.

In the dull quiet of the morning, where practically no one is fully awake, Walburga Black
begins screeching at truly ear-splitting volume. Regulus expects to be furious, or ashamed, or
a mixture of that and worse things. But he's shocked to find all the stones in his stomach
evaporating, because he's gripped with a sudden, comical bout of—well, amusement
bordering on hysteria.

Because this is—this could be mistaken for a Howler meant to be sent to Sirius, if not for the
fact that it's addressed to him. Because, apparently, he's such a huge disappointment, just like
his brother. Because, as it turns out, he's as abysmal at judging the proper company as his
brother is, since he's 'succumbed to the disgraceful persuasion of James Potter', like it's a
disease or something. Because for every insult to him, there's one to Sirius as well, and
Regulus sort of… Well, it's sort of nice, in an odd way, that he's not alone in this.

His eyes find Sirius' across the Great Hall. Sirius looks very awake, alert, lips pressed into a
thin line as he flicks his gaze between Regulus and the Howler. Merlin, but it just keeps
going, and there's some sort of absurdity in all of this.

But, mostly, it's embarrassing. One day, he thinks, he'll be able to laugh about it, but not
today. He's not upset, but it fills him with a sense of resignation, just further confirmation of
the things he already knew. His mother hasn't told him anything he doesn't already know she
feels, excluding the slight against everything a Black should stand for by associating with the
likes of James Potter. That annoys him as well. She doesn't know him; she has no right to
slander him, and he thinks he'd argue with her about it. He wouldn't, in reality, if she sprung
up before him now, but he enjoys thinking about it.

And then, at the end, Orion's low voice cuts in with a harsh, yet firm, "You've been officially
blasted off the family tapestry. We held out hope that you would see the errors of your ways,
but we have no such hope anymore; we will not accept you in our home or family ever again.
Regulus Arcturus Black, you do not deserve the name we've gifted you, and your
predecessors would be ashamed of you as their namesake. You are no son of mine; may you
rot with this knowledge."

Somehow, that hits harder than he's expecting. He wasn't even aware that he had the option to
return, because Sirius never had that option—but, then again, Sirius wasn't kicked out; he ran
away, and maybe their pride wouldn't let him come back. It was a snub that Regulus wasn't
brave enough to make. He had to be forced out, and perhaps shamefully—at least at first, he's
sure—he would have acted accordingly if he knew he had the opportunity to go home, to go
back to his old life. Now, knowing all that he does, having gone through all that he has, he's
so very grateful that he didn't know.

He doesn't want to go back, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt that he can't.

The Howler finally shuts up, tears up, and goes up in ash. It drifts down on his plate, and he
stares at it until it disappears with a small wave of Evan's wand. It doesn't matter. Regulus'
appetite has vanished entirely.

He gets up and walks out, all eyes on him as he goes.

Sirius finds him twenty minutes later. How he and James do that, he isn't sure, but it's
maddening. It's like they know every nook and cranny in and around the castle, including the
fucking boathouse, apparently, which is Regulus' choice for a hiding spot at the moment. If it
was anyone else but Sirius making their way towards him, Regulus is sure he'd flick his wand
and send them sailing into the water, even James.
Sirius, though… Well, he gets a pass, at least right now. He approaches with a folded up bit
of floppy, dingy parchment that's blank and silently drops down next to Regulus, hanging his
legs over the side of the dock to join in staring at the water.

"Well," Sirius says, finally.

"You know, in an odd way, it was nice to hear their voices again," Regulus muses, and he
wishes he was joking. He's not. That's the sad part.

"Merlin, you have issues, Reggie," Sirius mumbles.

"I know," Regulus agrees.

Sirius snorts and leans over to knock their shoulders together gently. "It's alright; so do I.
Suppose it comes with being a Black. At least we don't have the issues they have."

"It used to be…" Regulus swallows. "Do you remember how big of a thing it was, the way
they used to bang on about it, just that the family is the most important thing? There isn't
supposed to be a they. That's what I always thought, but then Andromeda, and then you, and
then…"

"You," Sirius says softly.

Regulus tucks his tongue in his cheek, narrowing his eyes at his reflection in the water,
resisting the childish impulse to kick it. "And then me. All they insisted we believe in, and
they hardly practiced it themselves. Do you know, for a moment, I thought maybe they'd just
—accept it? Accept me, I mean. Because I'm their son. Because that was supposed to mean
something. But then it didn't, and they didn't accept it, and I was confused; that's the worst
part. At first, I was fucking confused, and the first thing—the very first thing—I thought was:
oh, is this what Sirius felt?"
"Pretty bang on, for the most part," Sirius admits, pursing his lips when Regulus glances at
him. "Thinking they'd accept you anyway, the confusion when they wouldn't, yeah, all of it.
Because, you know, it's all a trick, really. A lie. Their glorification of family values and
family ties; it's all shit, Reggie. I've never met a more dysfunctional, mental family in my life.
And it's—it's not supposed to be like that, you know. Like what happens in that house stays in
it, all those secrets, all the lies and the expectations and hypocrisy—that's not what a real
family is. We only mean something if they can use us, and when we refused to be used…
Well."

"Well," Regulus agrees, huffing out a weak laugh.

Sirius flashes a smile at him, looking pleased that he's drawn a semi-positive response out of
him. "But I've learned there's family to find all the time, even sometimes in the places we
least expect. Sometimes directly from the source." He reaches out and gently taps the
parchment to Regulus' forehead, dragging it down. "Forget them, yeah? You've got me.
You've got your friends. That can be enough, if you let it."

"Is it for you?" Regulus asks, swatting at the parchment.

"Took me a while to work out, but yeah, it is," Sirius admits, sounding genuinely at peace
about the topic. "I won't lie and say I wasn't tangled up about it for a long time, but not in a
way that really makes sense, you see, because I—I really do despise them and everything
they stand for, and I have for a long time. It still… Somehow, I don't know, it still stung.
Made me angry. Baffled me, even, at times. And then there was you, which was more
complicated, because you—I hated you, but not really. I reckon you know all about that with
me. But then you were there, and it's selfish, I know, but I'm—I'm so glad they threw you out
and you came running right to me. I know that's not fair, but it's—it's nice, isn't it, that you
knew you could come to me? Because I'm not like them. And that helped. You've helped me
with all...that. The family bit."

"Well, I'm so glad my suffering was to the benefit of someone," Regulus mutters with a snort,
ignoring the warmth blooming in his chest, and Sirius barks a laugh as he reaches over and
shoves at Regulus' arm, which prompts Regulus to shove him back. Sirius yelps, nearly
falling off the dock, only just managing to catch himself, but dropping the parchment to the
dock at the same time. Regulus picks it up. "What's this?"
"Ah, just some old parchment," Sirius says as he straightens up, his lips twitching. "Go on,
try to see what secrets it has."

Regulus eyes him suspiciously, but he raises his wand and taps the parchment, muttering,
"Revelio."

Sirius leans over, tucking his lips in, and they both watch as words start to scrawl on the
parchment, starting with: Mr. Padfoot is most dismayed to recognize a brush with a Black's
magic, which does come with its own distinct flavor.

Mr. Wormtail asks which Black are you?

Mr. Padfoot unfortunately already knows. Though there are surely worse, there is at least one
better, but nonetheless—that's Regulus Black, that is.

Mr. Moony must insist that Regulus Black gift this parchment to his brother, if only to further
insult him past living in his shadow.

Mr. Padfoot would like to declare Mr. Moony a genius.

Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Padfoot, and would like to add that Regulus may not be the
brightest star in the sky, but that's because he outshines everyone else on the ground already.

"What?!" Sirius yelps, reaching out to hold up one half of the parchment, his mouth hanging
open.

"Have you and your friends created a fucking parchment to insult people?" Regulus asks
flatly.

"I—yeah, sure, but usually Prongs is—" Sirius shakes his head, astonished. "What's he on
about?"
Regulus rolls his eyes. "It's magical signatures, idiot. It leaves a trace of you, your magic, so
it takes on a caricature of your personality and feelings, in a sense. Who's who again? You're
Padfoot, obviously, since you recognized my magic; you've insinuated that you're better than
me and are displeased by my presence, though it's...a little weak, for you. Moony—that's
Lupin, you're always banging on about him being the moon. He's more ruthless, clearly,
saying I live in your shadow, but he's clever enough to instruct me to give the parchment back
to you, as it's clearly wanted to be in your possession. Wormtail assesses a situation before
joining in properly, so that can't be James, leaving Pettigrew, which means… Oh."

They stare at the parchment, then Sirius says, "Tap it again."

Regulus does.

Mr. Wormtail would like to inquire how one Regulus Black came across this parchment?

Mr. Padfoot would like to suggest that Regulus Black is a little thief, who should return his
brother's things to him immediately.

Mr. Prongs would like to offer the option of, perhaps, giving the parchment to James Potter
instead, who would surely be very charmed by the gift, or simply Regulus Black himself.

Mr. Moony would like to announce his exasperation with Mr. Prongs, as well as his hopes
that Regulus Black will give it to Sirius Black, so that he may be given the opportunity to
insult him.

"Oh, Moony," Sirius says, chuckling. "Fuck off, you git."

Mr. Moony feels it's important he add that Sirius Black is a cunt.
"This is stupid," Regulus announces decisively, holding the parchment out to Sirius, who
immediately takes it and looks mildly offended. "Useless bit of magic, really."

"Oh, don't be so quick to dismiss it, Reg. You'd be surprised what it will reveal," Sirius says
warmly, with a note of true pride in his voice.

Regulus squints at him. "Such as?"

"Ah, well, James for example," Sirius says, quickly tucking the parchment away in his robes.
"He's rubbish at insulting the people he'd prefer to compliment, as it turns out. Merlin, I can't
imagine what he'd say if Lily found the blasted thing. He'd likely be confessing his love,
which is not at all the point of the thing, you understand."

"Right," Regulus murmurs, looking down into the water again.

"Regulus, you're not still upset about the Howler, yeah?" Sirius leans over and knocks their
shoulders together again. "Do you want me to send one back, because I will, and I'll make
sure it bites her while I'm at it."

"She'll kill you and whatever poor owl you send it to her with."

"Yeah, alright, that's fair. Well, maybe one day, when she's out and about in public, a dog will
bite her or something."

"What?" Regulus asks, laughing a little helplessly.

Sirius smiles mildly, eyes twinkling, and he gives a lazy shrug. "Oh, I just have a feeling."

"Well, if that never happens, I'll be sorely disappointed."

"It will. I wouldn't get your hopes up for nothing."

Regulus shakes his head. "Yeah, alright. If you say so, Sirius."

"Come on, you don't plan to sit out here all day, do you? Being a miserable sod?" Sirius
declares, reaching over to tap Regulus on the side of his knee, nudging his leg.

"Debating it," Regulus grumbles. "As if I need another thing for people to talk about."

"People will talk, and then they'll find new things to talk about. Besides, I've been dealing
with it for years, and if you show them you care, they'll care, too. Show them you don't, and
they'll move on," Sirius advises.

"Did you care?" Regulus asks quietly. "I always thought…"

Sirius blows out a breath so deep that it sends strands of his hair flying up. "What did I just
say? I'd have to care, wouldn't I, to know what to do? I think I did at first, or depending on
what was said, but most of the time, no, I didn't. It's complicated. Maybe I just convinced
myself I didn't until it was true, and if that's the case, then...good. I'm grateful."

"I'm—" Regulus halts, struggling for a moment, and he can't speak directly to Sirius when
Sirius is watching him. He looks down at his reflection and gently swaying feet above the
rippling water, feeling oddly like he's young and chastised, Sirius lecturing him for sneaking
into their father's stash of snacks in his desk, before ultimately having one bite just so he
could take the blame and the subsequent punishment that followed. "I'm—I wasn't fair to you
about—well, I wasn't, and you're being very, very fair to me, so I'm—I'm—"

"Sorry?" Sirius suggests, sounding amused.

"Shut up," Regulus mutters reflexively, then, "but yeah. That."

"Well, if it helps, there was maybe a small bit of vindication in the fact that you also got a
Howler," Sirius admits, smiling slightly when Regulus glances at him. His smile fades
quickly, though, eyebrows pinching. "But none in—in actually hearing it, especially with
what it was about."

"She had a go at you, too."

"Oh, don't you know, Reg? I'm a terrible influence on you."

"Merlin, just the worst," Regulus agrees, lips curling up, and Sirius barks a laugh, genuinely
entertained by the thought.

"Don't I know it?" Sirius hums and taps the side of Regulus' leg again. "Come on, let's go in,
yeah?"

"Not just yet," Regulus murmurs. "I think I'd like to sit out here for a bit longer. You can go
in, if you want."

"Mm, no, I reckon I'll stay for a bit longer with you, then, if that's alright," is Sirius' casual
reply.

Regulus watches his reflection in the water smile. "Yeah, Sirius, that's alright."

"You're being watched," Pandora whispers.

Regulus doesn't look up from his book. "By who?"

"Hufflepuff. Our year. Clive Abrams, plays on the Quidditch team as a Chaser," Pandora lists
off under her breath.

"It's quite scary how you know everything about everyone," Regulus comments idly, turning
a page. "Wouldn't happen to know what he wants, would you?"

Pandora is so silent that he looks up, and she has a strange look on her face, but all she says
is, "I'm not sure, but I think you should find out. See if he'll follow you into the stacks."

"I'm only doing this because I need to put away books as it is," Regulus mutters, rolling his
eyes as he begs off to do just that.

It takes five minutes, if that, for Regulus to catch movement out of the corner of his eye,
someone lingering at the corner of the bookshelf. He turns and looks at Clive Abrams frankly,
raising his eyebrows to let him know he's caught. There's no sign of a wand, but Regulus
keeps a firm grip on his anyway.

After a beat, Clive gives up the ruse and just steps around the bookshelf to wander in, looking
nervous, which is at odds with his features. He's not taller than Regulus by much more than
an inch, maybe two, but he's the type to fill up more space because he's more noticeable.
Broad shoulders, a strong jaw, a flyaway fall of blond hair long enough to nearly brush his
shoulders. His eyes are strangely intense, big with long eyelashes, startlingly blue.

"Hi," Clive offers carefully.

"What do you want?" Regulus asks blandly.

Clive clears his throat. "I'm Clive."

"Yes, Clive Abrams, I know," Regulus says. He arches an eyebrow at him. "Again, what do
you want?"
"I just—I wanted to say—" Clive hesitates, his mouth hanging open, but then he blurts out, in
a rush, "I wanted to tell you that I really admired you for—for what you did. I thought it was
rumors, I didn't even believe it, but then I saw you at Hogsmeade with James, and I—I just
—" He swallows, then takes a steadying breath and sets his shoulders, stepping closer and
lowering his voice to a soft whisper. "I have this… Well, there's someone, and I never really
thought we'd, you know, have a chance to be...us. I didn't even know it was an option, and
he's still—he's hesitant, but it meant a lot to me. I just wanted you to know that."

"Oh," Regulus mutters, blinking, once again feeling out of his depth. This is the second time
this has happened in a week; he still has no fucking clue how he's meant to respond.

"Let James know too, yeah?" Clive mumbles. "But it's—it's you people talk about, really,
because you were the first, and you snogged him. But thank him too, would you?"

"Ah, sure?" Regulus says, not sure what else to say.

"Do you—if it's alright, can I ask if you two are—I mean, are you planning to keep
being...public?" Clive asks, eyes wide.

Regulus is silent for a beat, and then, because he—once again—has no idea what else to say,
tells him, "Yeah, we are."

"You must really love each other," Clive murmurs, and Regulus struggles to keep himself
together, to keep from flinching back from the mere word—that dreaded word—like it's acid
flying towards his skin. He endures the way it stings against his flesh, eating away at skin and
bone to burn his heart.

Regulus wouldn't be able to respond to this if he wanted to, and he very much doesn't want
to, but fortunately for him, he doesn't actually have to. Before the silence can even hint at any
level of awkwardness, James just—appears. Just swings around the bookshelf and doesn't
look at all surprised to see Regulus there with Clive.
"James," Regulus breathes out, ridiculously relieved, considering the previous topic of
discussion. But, well, it sort of feels like James will save him from the stifling pressure of it.

Clive looks up and smiles. "Oh. Hello, James."

"Hi, Clive, good to see you again, mate," James greets cheerily, moving right past him to stop
beside Regulus and swing a casual arm over his shoulders. Regulus practically melts into
him, because thank Merlin he's here to do the talking. "Are you looking forward to the
match? Closer now, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. We're practicing hard. You?"

"Harder, I assure you."

"I'll bet," Clive says with a chuckle. "Be careful not to fumble the quaffle, or I'll steal it from
you for sure."

James tightens his arm around Regulus, and he sounds decidedly less warm all of a sudden as
he replies, "Oh, you're not getting your hands on the quaffle, Abrams. That's mine."

"Suppose we'll see, won't we, Potter?" Clive teases good-naturedly. "I reckon I'll be off now. I
just wanted to talk to Regulus for a moment, is all."

"Didn't know you two knew each other," James comments.

"We don't, really, but—" Clive stops for a second and just looks at Regulus, who blinks back.
"Well, I suppose we understand each other, at the very least."

Regulus just nods, because… Well, they do, don't they?

"Thanks again," Clive murmurs, offering him a smile. It's a sweet one, flashing dimples at the
corners of his chin.

"Sure," is Regulus' underwhelming response, and he doesn't bother to try smiling back. He's
still bewildered by all of this.

"See you," Clive announces, like he believes it, then he grins at James. "And I'll see you in
the air."

Moments later, he's gone.

"Making friends?" James asks casually, turning to look at him, still keeping his arm around
him.

"Not really. Well, I'm not sure. He—wanted to thank me. And you," Regulus explains. "He's,
ah… He has a boyfriend, I suppose. Or just someone he's seeing in secret. Apparently, us
being public meant a lot to him."

A slow smile winds its way onto James' face, and he pretty much immediately lights up,
because of course he'd be so pleased and touched by this. "Yeah? That's really lovely. I didn't
know—well, I reckon no one would know. But that's… It's really good, Reg. Does it feel—
are you proud?"

"I'm...baffled, mostly," Regulus admits. "That's the second time someone's told me they're
queer within this week. I don't understand why it keeps happening."

"Because you've inspired people," James says softly. He flicks his gaze over Regulus' face,
studying him. "You're inspiring."

"I'm not," Regulus whispers reflexively, and his heart does something truly pathetic in his
chest. He wants, once again, to press himself against James until he just dissolves into him.
"You are," James insists firmly. "My queer friends thought it was brave, in any case."

"You have queer friends?"

"I'm apparently surrounded by them."

Regulus chuckles helplessly. "I know the feeling."

"Pandora or Dorcas?" James asks curiously.

Pandora, Dorcas, Barty, and Evan, actually, Regulus thinks, though he won't say it. They all
are, in their own ways. Still, all he says is, "That's not really your business, James. If you
want to know, ask them, but they're not required to tell you."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," James muses. "Don't think I will be asking them, actually. I'm
quite certain that they've all threatened me. I think."

"What?" Regulus blurts out in dismay.

James looks amused. "Oh, yeah, we're all close now, I'd say. They've all found me in their
own moments to make threats on my life if I hurt you. It was sweet. I didn't really realize it
until I thought about it later. Well, no, that's not true; Barty made it very clear. Threatened to
snap my cock off, he did."

"Oh, bloody hell," Regulus mutters, grimacing. "I'm sorry. I told them not to fucking terrorize
you. Don't even—"

"No, no, it's fine. I've decided it was a bonding experience for us all. I don't think they like
me much, and I'm determined to change this," James tells him. "Asking them about their
personal business might not be helpful in that endeavor."

Regulus blinks. How odd it is that James feels the apparent need to endear himself to people
who don't originally find him endearing to start with. He's right, though. Asking them who's
queer and how they are certainly won't do it.

They all are, really. Pandora hadn't really been a surprise, because—well, she's Pandora.
She'd been accepting when she found out about Dorcas, but hadn't really offered anything up
about herself until Dorcas was complaining that she'd never get to snog a pretty girl, and
Pandora had said I'm a pretty girl, you can snog me, and so Dorcas did. They've never had
any feelings for each other, though, much to their shared chagrin. Pandora had just said she
was queer without really feeling the need to define it past that. She's had boyfriends as well
before, so there's that.

Then there's Barty, who—upon Regulus' big reveal, against his will—had written to him with
the offer to shag him, which was really just his way of reassuring Regulus they were still the
same they'd always been. But also, there was likely some truth to it as well. Barty considers
himself an equal opportunity sort of bloke; his words, mind. He has stated on multiple
occasions that he'd be doing a disservice to an entire gender—boys—by refusing them. He
would shag Regulus, honestly, but the last thing Regulus wanted in the aftermath of his life
going to shit was to muck up one of the most important friendships in his shit life. Because,
first and foremost, Barty is one of his best friends, with or without shagging.

Evan was a surprise. Regulus hadn't seen it coming at all, because he likes to flirt, and he's
had girlfriends. After the reveal, Evan hadn't written to him. Evan didn't speak to him on the
train, or at the welcoming feast. Didn't even look at him. Regulus had been sure that he'd lost
one of his best friends, and that one—Evan—had hurt the most.

And then, the very first thing Evan did when they all got into their dorm together was snatch
Regulus into a hug before promptly sitting him and Barty down to go on a long, nearly
endless rant about his father. This coalesced into a slightly defiant confession that he didn't
want to shag some woman and provide children for the Rosier legacy. Regulus had thought,
at first, that Evan was saying he felt the same as him, at least until Evan clarified that he
didn't want to shag anyone, not at all, ever. Date? Sure. That's, in fact, why he's gone through
many girls, because he always cuts it off around the point that they start offering or asking
about shagging. He'd admitted that he didn't care who he dated—blokes or birds, his exact
words were—so long as he didn't have to shag them.
While Barty, Dorcas, Pandora, and Regulus can't fully relate to the no shagging bit, they can
relate to what it feels like to be different; that pressure to hide; that fear of freedom, but the
persistent desire for it. For Evan, it's particularly hard, because his expectations as the sole
heir are so heavy on him, most especially from his father, and it adds strain.

They've been friends for longer than they've been open with each other about these parts of
themselves, so their bond as a group is about as strong as a bond can get, Regulus is sure.

"Yeah, best not," Regulus mutters. He leans back a little to squint at James' face. "How did
you find me?"

"I'll always find you," James says, face splitting into a grin, his eyes dancing with humor and
simple delight. Oh, he loves his secrets, doesn't he? Regulus knows a thing or two about
those.

Regulus narrows his eyes further. "You knew I was here. You knew Clive was here. How?
James, were you eavesdropping?"

"Not at all," James tells him, still pleased with himself.

"No, of course not, because you would have come barreling in the moment before you even
decided to, so when you came in was when you showed up, which means you knew before
you ever saw or heard—mmurhg—" Regulus is appalled to find that James has reached out to
grasp his jaw and squish his cheeks forward gently, puckering his lips.

James raises his eyebrows. "Well, aren't you an inquisitive, lovely thing? Ease your mind,
shh, let me have my mystery."

Regulus feels his nostrils flare, and he walks James back just by stepping closer, putting one
hand flat to his stomach to guide him further into the shelves. James eventually bumps into
the table next to the wall behind him, tucked into the farthest corner between two shelves, but
all he does is jolt a little bit, then casually sit down on the edge of it, lifting his free hand he's
not using to squish Regulus' cheeks to rest it against the shelf just a little bit above his head.
"Pah'er, i'ou don' leh'e'oh," Regulus warns, sounding ridiculous, and he smacks his hand
against James' stomach hard enough to hear the thud, to feel the flex of his abdomen beneath
his palm, but not enough to hurt him.

"Sorry, love, what was that? Couldn't quite make it out, sadly. Would you say it again?"
James teases, sliding his hand on the shelf forward, curling in with the motion so he can
smile closer to Regulus' face.

"'uck'ou," Regulus manages, both infuriated and also—he doesn't know how to describe it,
really. The way James makes him feel; the way only James can make him feel. A rush, an
inexplicable thrill, the heavy thump of his heart and the shakiness of his knees and the heat in
his veins. He makes Regulus feel like he'll go mad, and leaves him breathless.

"Aw, 'uck'ou, too," James says, pursing his lips as he attempts not to laugh at him.

Regulus glares at him, and James relents, letting his cheeks go. His hand stays on his face,
though, drawing slowly down the front of his throat, and it's so broad that, for a moment,
Regulus has the insane thought that he'd wear James' palm like a necklace. Merlin, he wants
to.

Regulus helplessly swallows, watching James idly tilt his head and examine his own hand
lightly draped over the front of Regulus' throat, down towards the base of it. He looks
curious, thoughtful, and Regulus wants to bite him. "One of these days, Potter, someone is
going to hold you accountable for all your foolishness, and I've a feeling that someone is
going to be me, if you keep pushing it."

"Do your worst, Black," James murmurs, his gaze dragging up from his throat slowly, trailing
over Regulus' face to reach his eyes with such intensity that Regulus feels a shiver coil tightly
at the base of his spine, threatening to run up. That's not his imagination, the way James looks
at him, the heat that skitters across his skin from how James looks at him. Surely that can't be
faked. Or maybe he's just seeing things that aren't there.

There's a muffled thump on the other side of the bookcase, followed by quiet giggles and
girls shushing each other. A spark of recognition is exchanged between them as soon as they
realize they have an audience, and Regulus is so fucking grateful for the excuse. Because he
feels like he's dangerously close to exploding if he doesn't get to have James right here, right
now, as soon as fucking possible.

He presses closer and has his mouth on James' in a second, his free hand catching his cheek
to tilt his face for better access, and it's so simple to do such a grandiose thing. So easy to get
here, despite the impact it will have, like soaking in sunshine but never staring directly at it to
avoid going blind. Regulus is essentially walking on the fucking sun at this point, burning
himself up in the name of feeling warm. The cold never bothered him, not until he knew what
it was to not be.

James makes a quiet noise of surprise, then tips forward eagerly into the kiss, dropping
Regulus' throat to cup his side instead. They're leaning hard against the table now, and
Regulus is dizzy, his heart thundering away in his chest and his head spinning out of control.
A groan rips itself free from his throat, mildly muffled, and James inhales sharply as he
spreads his knees and drags Regulus in between them all in one motion, and Regulus goes.
Of course he does. He winds both arms around James' shoulders and presses into him, tipping
forward into him so hard the table rocks.

Regulus is all sensation, as eager as James, overwhelmed and still wanting more. He's so
eager, in fact, that he has his hands in James' hair, planning to keep him here forever, because
that would solve all his problems, surely. James' arms are like iron around him, pulling him
closer, apparently happy to be right where he's at. It's only a moment later before James
makes a soft, needy noise of encouragement and chases his mouth when Regulus dares to
break away for one tiny sip of air.

This noise promptly and without question makes Regulus go absolutely fucking insane; he
instantly folds forward to kiss James again, sure to give him whatever he wants, and if he
dies from lack of oxygen, well, so be it. There are worse ways to drown than in James Potter.

"Oh, Merlin," comes the soft, stunned voice of one of the girls on the other side of the shelf.
"You don't think they're—"

"Shut up, Celeste," someone else hisses.

James and Regulus break apart, not going very far. James has his forehead resting against
Regulus' temple, nosing at his hair, breathing fast and hard against his jaw. His glasses are
slightly lopsided and smooshed against Regulus' cheek, cool metal against heated skin.
They're calming, slowly but surely.

Finally, James pulls his head back and turns it towards the shelf, clearing his throat. "Ladies,
we can hear you."

There's soft gasps, followed by low hisses and the sound of what's likely a gaggle of girls
scrambling to beat a hasty retreat. James' shoulders shake a little bit with quiet laughter, and
he turns his head to smile at Regulus as he continues to just—hold onto him, albeit not as
tightly as before. Regulus can see James' glasses smudged, so he tugs his hands free from
James' hair to pluck them off his face instead, gently cleaning them on his sleeves. James'
eyes look bigger without his glasses, and it's impossible to miss the thick, long curl of black
eyelashes framing striking brown eyes, slightly unfocused and hazy but adjusting with every
blink. He's so unfairly lovely.

"There," Regulus mumbles as he slides James' glasses back onto his face, watching him blink
rapidly.

"Cheers," James chirps, grinning. "You know, there'll be a rumor we shag in the library now,
no doubt. I wasn't aware we made it to this level in our relationship. Is it too soon?"

"I'm afraid so. I think we're rushing things, James. Do I look easy to you? Shagging after only
—how long has it been now since that morning? Three weeks?" Regulus scoffs and shakes
his head. "No, you'd have to work harder than that."

James raises his eyebrows. "Who says you won't have to work hard for it? I'll have you know,
I am a perfect gentleman. Just downright prudish, you could even say."

"James Potter, a prude? Oh, but my hedonistic lifestyle is sure to corrupt you," Regulus tells
him. He leans in with a small smile, whispering playfully now. "It'll feel good, I promise."

"Oh, naughty, alright. How good?"

 "Have you ever felt something so good it can only be bad?"

"You," James breathes out, then just fucking kisses him again. It's so easy to do because they
haven't gone anywhere, haven't backed up, and it takes Regulus all the strength in his body
not to immediately melt into it.

Regulus turns his head, fingers flexing against the front of James' chest. "James, the girls left.
They're gone."

"Oh, right," James mumbles, rocking back with that violent, startled blink of his. "Sorry.
Forgot."

"You forgot that they left?" Regulus asks, bemused.

"I forgot everything," is James' unabashed response, not even seeming to find this impactful
in the least. Regulus wants to bang his own head against the wall. "Hey, now that I've got you
here, I did have a reason for coming to bother you. We're having a party again—mostly to
cover up for a prank, but no one needs to know that—so anyway, will you and your friends
come? You don't have to stay the whole time, but—"

"When?" Regulus asks simply.

James' entire face lights up, and Regulus would do anything, anything, to make that happen.
"This weekend. Saturday night. You and your mates will come?"

Regulus' lips twitch. "We'll think about it."

Chapter End Notes

evan, my beloved <3 poor slughorn just saw the snake and was so stressed by the three
slytherins teenagers ganging up on him that he was like: i do not see it, i pretend i do not
even see it

sirius rarely gets depicted as a good big brother, ive noticed, and i feel that's a disservice
to him—specifically in this scenario where he and regulus have overcome their
differences and gotten close. i just think that, yes, they have their complications and
issues, but in THIS specific situation (where regulus is disowned as well and having a
really hard time), sirius would be there for him, maybe with a little pettiness from time-
to-time, sure, but wholeheartedly. i think he'd feel really proud that regulus came to him,
because it sets him apart from the family he doesn't want to be like or associated with.
anyway, they're very important to me in this fic, and also just in general, and i like
writing them being good brothers. it makes me happy.

on another note, regulus being a little gay hero, look at him go 😭 he's inspiring people!
we see more of melanie and clive!

not james just being like: i am a mystery, aren't i such a mystery? im so cool. pls he's so
😭😭😭 i love him so much. he's having the BEST time, by the way. just getting to kiss
regulus and flirt with him, he's so pleased. james lately: wow, im in such a persistent
good mood! just so happy! not gonna explore this at all, im just a very happy person!
 ACT TWO: Part Four
Chapter Notes

alright! for those of you who have read bfb, you know i can be a little out of pocket from
time-to-time.

it is time.

warnings for this chapter: some drinking (no one does anything, it's just a party), a
reference to child abuse (walburga and orion's shit parenting), and some fighting
(regulus and barty get into it with some other slytherins, and i will be putting a more in-
depth warning for those who need/want to be spoiled by what happens, as it's a serious
matter)

enjoy :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"Do we have to?" Dorcas complains, even as she slips her last earring into her other ear—a
big, white triangle that matches the triangles on her dress. She squints at Barty's mirror,
flipping the triangle so it'll stop jabbing her in the chin.

"Yes," Regulus replies yet again, as he has many times before, focusing back on Zar. He's a
bit stupid, honestly, but in an oddly endearing way. Has to be guided to the mice that Pandora
provides for him to eat—where she finds them, no one asks, just grateful that they don't have
to be the ones to locate them or drop them into his container. Sighing, Regulus reaches inside
and nudges Zar behind the head to get him to actually face the mouse. "Go on, idiot. It's right
there. Merlin, how would you survive without us?"

Zar, after long moments of apparent deliberation, lunges forward and misses the mouse
entirely.

"I think we'll have fun," Pandora decides, her foot propped up on Barty's knee as he handles
the straps on her shoe for her while she braids her hair, tugging a few strands free.
"Oh, I know I will. I'm getting drunk and shagging the first Gryffindor that looks at me
twice," Barty announces.

"And we support you wholeheartedly," Pandora replies.

"Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are off-limits," Regulus feels the need to clarify, "but
otherwise, yes, do as you please."

"Sirius, I get, but why the other one? Lupin is the most fit out of that whole lot," Barty
muses.

Pandora makes a small sound of protest. "No, I think Sirius would be, if we're just talking
about the boys."

"Pandora?" Regulus says, his face scrunching, but she doesn't look apologetic in the least.

"Well, we all have our different tastes, don't we? You think James is," Pandora points out.

Regulus can't argue this point, so he looks back at Zar, who's essentially being mocked by the
mouse at the moment. He sighs once again and gently boops Zar in the right direction, then
quickly snatches his hand back when Zar abruptly strikes out, this time with full accuracy.

"Finally has it, does he?" Dorcas muses as she stands up.

"Mhm," Regulus confirms, wrinkling his nose as he looks away, never one to watch Zar take
his meals.

"That's our boy," Barty praises, tapping Pandora's ankle to let her know he's done with her
shoe. It drops to the floor with a dull clunk only moments later.
Regulus steps back. "Come on. We're meeting Evan there."

They do, in fact, meet Evan there. He's already standing outside the portrait with,
surprisingly, James of all people. They're chatting casually, much to Regulus' bemusement.
It's a widespread phenomenon between his friends to not like James, purely because they
know all the sordid details of Regulus' actual feelings. Gods, he's actually charming Regulus'
friends, which is just so—typical of him, honestly. In Evan's case, it probably helps that
James gave him the Head Boy's dorm without hesitation.

As they approach, James and Evan are distracted from each other. Evan visibly relaxes even
further, though he didn't seem to be really tense to start with. As for James, he does a comical
double-take, his eyebrows flying up.

"Are you in Muggle clothes?" James blurts out, looking right at Regulus—or, more
specifically, his clothes.

"You're welcome," Pandora says smugly. "They all look brilliant, don't they?"

James doesn't even look at anyone else. "Yeah, brilliant. Your doing, then? You have my
thanks."

"Fraternizing with the enemy, Rosier? Is this who you are now?" Barty teases.

"Had to pass the time until you lot showed up, didn't I? Besides, it's harder than you'd think to
pretend James doesn't exist, but I reckon Reggie knows all about that already," Evan replies,
lips curling up.

"Stuff it," Regulus mutters, much to James' amusement.

"What kept you?"

"Had to make sure Zar ate."

Evan clicks his tongue. "Poor thing. No brighter than a troll. He's doing alright, yeah? Does
he miss me?"

"He hasn't even noticed you're gone," Regulus says, and Evan flips him off while Barty,
Dorcas, and Pandora chuckle.

James reaches out to grab Regulus' wrist, then slips his grip down to tangle their fingers
together, pulling him towards the portrait. "Come on, the party's already on."

The party is, in fact, already on. It's a loud wash of chatter, laughter, and music; people are
dancing, drinking, and clearly having a good time. At least three people are playing some
butchered version of quidditch with a portrait, except without any brooms or a quaffle;
instead, they're lobbing sparks of magic at different areas in the frame, while the woman in
the gold high-century dress dives for it like she's a Keeper. When she misses, the students
roar. When she doesn't, she skips around with her skirt held up, laughing in delight.

No one really pays the invasion of four Slytherins and one Ravenclaw any mind, too wrapped
up in their own things to care. The people that do notice see James and immediately seem to
accept it, some peering curiously and some just going right back to what they were doing.

James, rather predictably, leads them all over to a group consisting of Pettigrew, Lupin,
Sirius, Lily, McKinnon, and Macdonald. Regulus is mildly surprised to find Sirius entirely
clear-eyed, without a drink in hand, then realizes that James, Lupin, and Pettigrew are all
oddly sober when everyone else is clearly well on their way to being pissed. The girls
obviously are. Macdonald is hanging off of Lily, laughing loudly at something McKinnon has
said to her, and Lily is swaying ever so gently to a song that doesn't really call for swaying,
but she looks quite content as she is.

"Ah, I honestly didn't believe you'd come," Sirius announces when he catches sight of
Regulus.

James frowns. "They never sodding believe me."

"Oi, there's Baby Black!" Macdonald bellows, raising her glass as she peels away from Lily.
"What a mad lad you are! Brave, brave, such a brave soul! To Baby Black!"

"To Baby Black!" McKinnon and Lily shout in agreement, raising their glasses as well, and
Sirius does the same with a bark of laughter, which prompts random other people around the
room to join in the sentiments, even if they're not quite sure why, but they're drunk enough to
get caught up in it anyway. All of Regulus' friends grin and laugh at him, and he wants to
sink into the floor and die.

"I'm getting you a drink! You deserve a drink!" Macdonald declares, then stumbles off to do
just that, apparently.

Barty and Evan exchange a look before following right behind her to, presumably, get drinks
of their own. They'll no doubt grab one for Pandora and Dorcas, and oh, this is going to be
one big disaster of a fucking night.

"Hello, Meadowes, do you still hate me?" McKinnon asks boldly, abandoning Lily with
Lupin to approach Dorcas.

"Do you even have to ask?" Dorcas replies sardonically, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Well, let's change that, shall we?" McKinnon smiles brightly, her cheeks flushed. "I like
your earrings. And your dress. And your hair. And your rings. I—I really like your rings."

There's a notable pause, then Dorcas tilts her head, lips twitching, and says, "Go on."

McKinnon does. Apparently, she has a list of things she likes on and about Dorcas. A rather
long list, as it turns out, and she's clearly pissed enough to steadily make her way through it.
Dorcas is enjoying this, obviously.
"Two galleons on the fact they'll be snogging by the end of the night," Pandora whispers in
Regulus' ear.

Regulus snorts. "Oh, please, I'm not taking that bet."

"Here you are, Baby Black," Macdonald says when she reappears, pushing a drink into his
hand.

"Regulus is fine," Regulus mutters.

Macdonald grins at him. "Oh, well, sure. I'm Mary. Come, come, let me steal you away from
James, yeah?"

"Um," Regulus says, strained, and whatever protests fall from James' mouth goes ignored,
because Mary clamps down on Regulus' arm and proceeds to drag him away.

An hour later finds Regulus on the sofa between Mary and James, who had ended up chasing
him down, as he often tends to do. Peter is on the other side of Mary, and Marlene is squished
in on the other side of James, while Dorcas perches on the arm of the sofa, propped up and
leaning over to look down at Marlene as they talk. Pandora is sitting on the floor in front of
Regulus, her back against his legs. Evan is sitting in an armchair, which Barty is leaning back
against as he talks to a Gryffindor boy and girl at the same time; Regulus can't work out
which one he's attempting to shag, or if maybe it's both, but he thinks that if anyone could
manage something like that, it would be Barty. Lily is in her own chair beside Evan, and
Sirius and Remus are sitting on the ground in front of her, leaning back against her legs with
their arms pressed together.

Between drink three and seven, everyone became lovely in Regulus' mind. He's decided he
likes everyone here so much, and they're all his friends, even Lily Evans. He's carried on with
Mary quite a bit, as well as enjoyed the entertainment of Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter's
antics. Pandora has gone into disturbing depths about the dissection of a flobberworm, much
to the disgust and fascination of everyone. Dorcas, Evan, and Barty are all as pissed as
Regulus is, which means they're all feeling really quite good at the moment.
"Moonage daydream!" Sirius abruptly bellows, tossing his arms up, grinning right at Remus.
"Who put Bowie on? Was that you, my moonage daydream?"

"Shove off, it's not always me," Remus complains.

Sirius scrunches his nose playfully and leans in, his eyes sparkling, speaking along to the
song, "I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you, Moony."

"Keep your mouth shut," Remus replies in unison with the song, a broad grin sneaking onto
his face.

"This is Bowie?" Regulus mumbles to James, turning his head to look at him, coming nose-
to-nose with him because they're packed in so tight on the sofa, and James was apparently
already looking at the side of his face.

James is unperturbed by the proximity. "David Bowie in all his glory. What do you think?"

"It's—it's good," Regulus offers. "I don't really understand what he's on about, if I'm honest,
but—"

"No, no, that's not—see, that's the problem. Sirius and Remus get this better than I do, but
that's not the point to music, especially Bowie's. You don't listen to it; you feel it," James tells
him, lifting his hand to gently cover Regulus' eyes. His other hand ends up cupping the back
of his neck, Regulus can feel it, and the next thing Regulus knows, James is slowly rocking
him back and forth to the beat of the song—just a tiny, infinitesimal motion that still makes
Regulus feel a bit dizzy. James scoots in closer, quietly murmuring along to the lyrics, not
quite singing, but not not singing either. "Don't fake it, baby, lay the real thing on me. The
church of man, love, is such a holy place to be. Make me, baby, make me know you really
care. Make me jump into the air."

And, like this, Regulus gets it. He really, really gets it, because he feels it. Or maybe that's
just the goosebumps that break out all over him from the feeling of James' breath against his
ear. He thinks of it, that one lyric playing over and over on a loop in his head. The church of
man, love, is such a holy place to be. He gets it. Oh, Merlin, he does. It feels holy and
blasphemous; the most pure thing he's ever known is James' touch, and the sin he always
aches to return to is James' mouth.

James' hand lifts away from his eyes to push through his hair instead, but Regulus keeps his
eyes closed; listening; feeling. Bowie sings press your space face close to mine, love; freak
out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah, and Regulus' head rolls back with the motion of James'
hand through his hair, tousling the waves and curls. Oh, it feels intoxicating. Everything
about this moment is hazy and lovely and everlasting.

"Oi, James, what do you think you're doing with my brother?"

"Piss off, Sirius, I'm teaching him the wonders of Bowie."

"Oh. Well, in that case, carry on."

"I get it," Regulus mumbles, because he gets it now. He releases a soft laugh. "The church of
man. Yeah. Yeah."

James presses a smile against Regulus' cheek, and Regulus' eyes finally flutter open, leaving
him to see the wonderful mess of James' hair before anything else. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Regulus repeats, blinking slowly.

"It's good?" James checks as he draws away a bit to look at him. His glasses are crooked, so
Regulus reaches up to fix them, startled to find his fingers shaking a bit.

Regulus swallows and nods. "Really good. There are people here, James, did you know
that?"

"It didn't escape my notice," James says, amused, but his smile fades when Regulus tugs on
the front of his shirt just a bit, an insistent motion that has no strength behind it. All Regulus
has is hope and desperation, both things quickly squashed when James shakes his head.
"Sorry, lover, you're pissed and I'm not. I—I would, I swear I would, but you're not in control
of your own head. Here, though."

James ducks in and kisses Regulus' forehead, pressing in fiercely and lingering as Regulus
sways into it, eyes fluttering shut again. In some ways, this is better. It feels—there's
something about it. Something intimate and caring that Regulus can feel squirming happily in
his stomach. He's left fuzzy and buoyant, like he might float away.

When James pulls away, Regulus settles down, appeased. James relaxes back into the sofa, an
arm around him, hand raised to gently run the pads of his fingers up and down the curve of
Regulus' neck, down towards his shoulder. It's a casual caress, but a caress nonetheless, and
Regulus melts more and more with each pass of his fingers.

He looks forward, originally, to see what his brother is doing (which is talking to Evan while
distractedly drumming his fingers on Remus' arm—something that Remus is focused on with
an intensity that's amusingly pathetic), but he's caught by finding Lily's eyes pinned on him.
Or, more accurately, James' fingers on his neck. The intensity of her gaze is startling, because
her eyes are a green so striking that they gleam, even when they're hazy from intoxication.

Regulus grinds his teeth. She's looking. Watching. Observing. He wonders what she's
thinking about, if she's imagining James' fingers on her neck, the warmth of them, how soft
his touch can be. It takes everything in Regulus to keep quiet, to look away and not glare
holes into her head, because he knows nothing would make him lose whatever bits of James
he gets to have, as briefly as he's allowed to claim them, than insulting the girl he's in love
with.

Regulus doesn't look at her again after that, for the sake of his sanity, and the position of her
eyes in her head, because the urge to rip them out is really quite strong.

The night continues on, and he mostly talks back and forth with Pandora, Mary, and James.
Barty eventually disappears, the girl and boy he was chatting with both gone missing along
with him. At some point, Marlene and Dorcas are suspiciously absent, which makes Pandora
demand two galleons from him, even though he didn't agree to the bet. Regulus asks James
for two galleons, then gives them to her, much to her delight.
Evan seems to be talking to Lily, because Sirius and Remus have gone missing as well.
Regulus, at first, thinks this might mean something, but then he looks around and realizes that
Peter is nowhere to be found either. It's not too long after that does James sit up slightly and
murmur in Regulus' ear that he has to go, but he'll be back.

"What?" Regulus asks in dismay. "Why?"

"I—oh, don't look at me like that," James mumbles, blowing out a harsh breath. "I—I
promise I'll be back, yeah? Merlin, don't look so sad. You're pouting, Regulus."

"You can't just—just abandon me," Regulus tells him, his eyebrows tugging together. "Not
here. Not now. James—"

James caves almost instantly, reaching down to grab his hand and haul himself up, tugging
Regulus with him. "Alright, come on. We're going to my dorm."

"Your dorm," Regulus repeats, blinking rapidly but dutifully following James wherever he
might lead him. He'd follow James anywhere, he thinks.

"Oi, where are you two off to?" Evan asks.

"James' dorm," Regulus mumbles.

Evan's eyebrows fly up, and then he's grinning, and Mary releases a playful wolf-whistle.
"Oh, really? Have fun, then. Do all the things I wouldn't do."

"Regulus, be careful," Pandora calls after him, and he flaps a hand lazily over his shoulder to
indicate they should all piss off and leave him to make his stupid decisions in peace.

James leads him up the staircase, keeping him steady when he struggles, because he does a
bit. He laughs when Regulus does, but he never lets him trip, stumble, or fall. Once they
defeat the challenge of the stairs, Regulus feels steadier in the dorm, and he peers around
curiously as James tugs him right over to a bed that Regulus assumes is his own. He sits him
down on it, then pulls away to start digging around in his trunk.

Regulus pops right back up and wanders over to the nightstand beside the bed. There's
framed pictures on it, two of Monty and Effie—one where they smile warmly and wave out
at him, and one where they're dancing in a kitchen, heads thrown back into laughter. There's
three different pictures of different variations of James and his friends. One with just Sirius,
Remus, and Peter—the three of them sprawled out on the ground, grinning like fools, Sirius
and Remus flipping off the camera while Peter makes faces and crosses his eyes. One with
the four of them, so someone else took it, and they're all making snow angels and laughing.
The last is the largest group photo, this one consisting of the boys, as well as Lily, Mary, and
Marlene—they're all doing different things in it, nudging one another, grinning, rolling their
eyes. They look happy.

There's other photos with people Regulus doesn't really recognize—well, he does, but only
vaguely. Friends James has that have already graduated, he thinks. He's almost positive that
one of the blokes is Longbottom; there's a pair of twins; and one of the frames just contains
James flying with the entirety of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, looking to be in fifth year, if
Regulus had to guess.

There's a glass bowl on the stand that just has rocks in it. Very nice rocks, some strange
rocks, but rocks nonetheless. Beside it is a stack of books, some for classes, and some that
clearly aren't; one on the topic of magical theory that Regulus' drunk mind finds attractive for
some reason—not the book, just that James has obviously been reading it, if the bookmark
sticking out the top about halfway is anything to go by. The parchment that insults people is
on the stand as well, and Regulus picks it up, only for James to suddenly pluck it right out of
his hands.

"Ah, sorry, I need that," James tells him sheepishly, stuffing the folded parchment into his
bag, digging past the fabric of his invisibility cloak to make sure it's tucked away.

"Why do you have rocks?" Regulus mumbles.

James blinks, then looks at his rocks. "Oh! Oh, those. Yeah, they're my happy rocks. When
something really good happens that makes me happy, I find a cool rock and put it in the bowl.
Only the really special things, not just a happy day, I mean."
"That's...a lot of rocks," Regulus notes, blinking at the bowl.

"I find a lot of things special," James admits with a quiet chuckle. He reaches out and palms a
smooth, black stone, holding it out. "This is yours, technically. I picked it out because you
agreed to date me."

"Fake. Fake date you," Regulus reminds him, even as he reaches out to take the rock, rubbing
his thumb along the curve. It's cool and smooth in his palm. It's pretty.

"Right." James watches him for a moment, then gestures towards the bowl. "You have a few
more in there."

Regulus looks up. "I do? For what?"

"Like I said, I find a lot of things special," James murmurs, lips curling at the corners. "Put it
back when you're done, yeah? I keep them for a reason. If I ever need a pick-up, I can always
just grab a rock and remember. It also helps me remember, if I'm honest. My memory is
pretty shit at times, and having things to hold onto helps me focus."

"You'll have to pick a new rock for tonight," Regulus says softly, dropping the rock back into
the bowl.

"I will? Why?"

"Lily couldn't take her eyes off you."

James blinks, visibly startled. "Really?"

"Really," Regulus confirms, hating himself so much and still doing it anyway. A glutton for
punishment, a masochist, that's what he is. Why is he like this?

"Merlin, I didn't even notice," James says with a laugh, and Regulus hates himself even more
for bringing it up.

"Where are you going?" Regulus asks, eager to change the subject. "You have all your things.
Why are you leaving?"

"I told you, the party's to cover for a prank. Minnie has been especially sharp this year, seeing
as it's our last, and she knows we're going to go out as legends," James explains simply, his
eyes glinting with humor and shameless mischief. "We suspect she knows about parties,
though, and she'll think we're doing that instead of a prank, which means we'll get away with
it if she thinks we're here instead of out there, causing chaos."

"Oh," Regulus says.

"I'll be back. You stay up here, yeah? I'm sneaking out with my cloak anyway, and everyone
will think we're, ah—well, you know. Er, is that alright?"

"That you're letting people think we're shagging to cover the fact that you're actually pulling
a prank?"

"Well, that sounds awful when you put it like that. Come on, I'll walk you back down and
sneak off from there. Clear up the suspicions," James declares, holding out his hand like
Regulus might not know how to walk if he's not connected to him. To be fair, Regulus is
having a bit of trouble with walking.

Regulus shakes his head and steps back until he bumps into the side of James' bed. "No, that's
fine. I'll be your alibi, so long as I don't have to deal with those fucking stairs again."
"Oh, Reg," James says with a muffled laugh, dropping his hand. He shakes his head. "Yeah,
alright. Use my bed if you like. I have sweets in my bottom drawer, and Sirius has actual
food hidden away somewhere in his things, though Merlin knows why. He's been doing it
since first year, stashing away food you'd find at meals and constantly moving the stash."

"Habit," Regulus informs him.

James blinks. "Sorry?"

"It's a habit," Regulus tries again, slower, making sure he's not slurring his words too much.
"I do it, too. We—well, when we got in trouble as children, we'd be forced to skip meals, so
we started keeping perishables hidden just in case. But you have to move the stash often,
because they'll—they'll come in and go through your things whenever they like."

"Oh, Reg," James echoes from earlier, though this time without a laugh in sight. His
shoulders slump, and he shuffles forward to abruptly dip down and press a kiss to his
forehead again, which is just as soothing now as it was before, perhaps more just because
they're alone. When James pulls away, he looks so sad. "I'm sorry, Regulus. That's an awful
thing you and Sirius had to—were forced to go through."

Regulus tilts his face up, shrugging. "Suppose we don't have to anymore, but some things just
—stick."

"That's alright. It's alright however you two...do the things that make you more comfortable,"
James assures him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find
my best mate and give him a hug. I'll return within an hour, at most. No one will bother you
here, alright?"

"Alright," Regulus mumbles before promptly kicking his shoes off and scooting back to lay
down in James' bed.

James looks at him for a long moment, seeming fond, and is he? Does he feel fondness for
Regulus? Merlin, Regulus hopes he does. It's a selfish, selfish desire, but one that digs its
claws in him nonetheless. Oh to be someone James is fond of.
Regulus closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see James leave, though he listens to his retreat,
the soft swish of his cloak, the creak of the door opening and closing. Regulus breathes and
waits, straining his ears, then opens his eyes and pushes himself up to knee-walk all over the
bed to draw the curtains shut, because he doesn't trust himself with his wand at the moment.
When he flops back down again, he bounces a little and presses his face into James' pillow
with a breathless, giddy laugh. Merlin and Morgana both, he's in James Potter's bed.

He's too drunk to be normal about this.

Groaning at his own humiliating foolishness, Regulus shifts to kick James' blankets up and
stuff himself inside them, pushing one hand under his cheek and the other under the pillow.
He almost immediately props up in surprise when he feels something cold bump into his
fingers. He squints and feels around for it, whatever it is, and then he knows as soon as he
wraps his hand around it, before he even draws it out.

Regulus stares at the snitch, slowly sinking back down on his back this time. He unfurls his
fingers, and the snitch's wings unfold; it buzzes up gently from his palm, gleaming gold and
bobbing in front of his face. He reaches out and gently grabs it again, huffing out a soft laugh
of disbelief. Merlin and Morgana both, James Potter keeps the snitch Regulus Black gave
him under his fucking pillow.

He's too...everything to be normal about this.

Perhaps ridiculously, Regulus plans to stay awake and fiddle with the snitch until James gets
back. He does it for a while, but an hour comes and goes, and his eyes are so heavy now
when he's lying in a warm bed that smells like such a lovely, lovely boy. He ends up catching
the snitch and cradling it to his chest, blinking slowly at the bed-hangings until his blinks are
suspiciously spaced apart, and then they eventually stop altogether. He drifts off; warm,
warm, warm.

And then he blinks again, because the bed shifts around him, beneath him, making him jolt a
little bit. It's dark and still in a way that's disorienting. At first, he's not entirely sure where he
is, only certain that he's not in his own bed, but it hits him when he turns his head and comes
face-to-face with James.
James, who is curled up on his side, his hand under his cheek, lying right next to Regulus and
staring at him.

"Hi," James greets softly.

"Hello," Regulus breathes out.

"Sorry," James whispers, "we got a little held up. Peter ran into a spot of trouble, so Sirius
was the only one who could do the time-delay spell. Those are Peter's speciality, though. No
one can do a time-delay spell as good as him."

Regulus blinks, bleary-eyed. "Time-delay spell on what?"

"Mm, can't tell you that, I'm afraid," James replies quietly, lips curling up. "I would
recommend not drinking out of any cups or goblets for the next three days, though. Any of
them in the castle, Regulus, I'm not actually joking."

"Merlin, you're all awful," Regulus croaks, dropping his head back to the pillow.

James snorts. "Get creative, love. Drink out of a leaf, or transfigure something. Anyway,
there was a bit of an issue with Mrs. Norris, but we managed to hide out somewhere for an
hour until she went away."

"How long have you been gone?"

"Nearly three hours now, I suppose. Nice kip?"

"It was before you showed up," Regulus mutters.

"You're in my bed," James reminds him, amused.

Regulus huffs. "Right. I suppose I should—"

"You're fine," James cuts in, reaching across the short space between them to grab Regulus'
arm before he can even try to get up. "Really, I didn't mean to wake you."

"My friends—"

"I went down when I got back in to let them know you were fine. Barty's off somewhere,
gone for the night, I suspect. Marlene returned, but Dorcas never did. Pandora and Evan were
waiting for you, but they left when I told them you were sleeping. Evan, ah, assumed that I
tired you out."

"The party's over?" Regulus asks, startled.

"Yeah."

"Shit, how late is it? What time—"

"A bit after two," James tells him. "It's late, Regulus; everyone is in bed now. No use in
leaving."

"I'm meant to just sleep here, then?" Regulus snaps.

James hums, unbothered. "Yeah, sure. Unless you want to go crawl into bed with your
brother? I don't recommend it, though. He cuddles."

"He's here? In bed?" Regulus hisses. "Does he know—"

"Well, he and Remus were bickering too much for me to really get a word in edgewise, but I
reckon he'll work out you're here in the morning," James muses thoughtfully. "In any case,
does it matter? I mean, I'll walk you back under the cloak if you really want to make the trip,
but—"

"No, it's—fine," Regulus says stiffly. He flicks his gaze down to watch James' hand slide up
his arm, reaching out to poke the snitch that Regulus forgot he was holding onto. He kept
right on holding onto it, apparently, even in his sleep. "Ah, yeah, I found this under your
pillow, Potter."

"I usually fiddle with it and watch it buzz around a bit before I sleep. Helps me quiet my
mind," James murmurs. "No reason to keep it anywhere else if I'm going to have it every
night."

Regulus holds his breath until his chest burns, then forces himself to exhale slowly and
carefully. Once he has, and his heart has stopped trying to bust open the cavern of his chest to
launch itself at James, he reaches over and drops the snitch on the pillow in front of James'
face. "There you are."

"You don't have to—" James tries to start, but he's quickly cut off before he can even finish.

"You can have it, James. It's yours," Regulus whispers, and there's so much hidden meaning
in those words, so much weight he won't let slip from his desperate grip, clinging to it and
accepting the way it crushes him. Because there, underneath it all, you can have me, I'm
yours.

What does he do with that? What is he supposed to do? All he can do is let it hurt. He's
addicted to the pain of it.

"You're so lovely," James says with so much sincerity in his tone that it makes Regulus' eyes
sting in the dark. He reaches up to grab the snitch like it's precious. "Thank you."
"Goodnight, James," Regulus rasps, his voice hoarse and quiet, a little too thick to pass for
normal. He turns over immediately after, squeezing his eyes shut as he puts his back to
James.

"Regulus?" James asks, concern threaded through his tone now, and Regulus does not answer
him. The silence stretches on for so long that Regulus can feel the exhaustion tugging at him
again, and he thinks maybe James has fallen asleep already. But then, quiet and gentle,
"Goodnight, Regulus."

Regulus hears James release a muted sigh, followed by the quiet flutter of the snitch's wings,
and that's the sounds he drifts off to again, curled away from James, the lovely boy behind
him who makes the bed so warm. Despite the pain of it all, Regulus falls asleep so easily.
More easily than he ever has.

The next morning, he wakes up just as easily, though not in quite the same position as when
he drifted off. It's similar, because he doesn't move very much in his sleep, but this is
apparently not the case for James. And, for all his talk about Sirius being one to cuddle, he's
just as bad, as it turns out. He's pressed right up against Regulus' back, an arm thrown over
his waist, face buried into the back of his neck. Regulus can feel the soft, hot puffs of James'
breath against the knob of his spine. Their legs are tangled under the duvet.

It's lucky that James is obviously passed out—he's snoring, which Regulus should find
appalling, but can't really bring himself to—and the reason it's lucky is because Regulus has
something of a silent, secretive crisis right then and there. Lily Evans, Lily Evans, Lily Evans,
he chants internally, desperate at this point, but it's not Lily fucking Evans that James is
clinging to in his sleep, is it? No, it's him. Gods, it's him.

But he wants it to be Lily Evans, Regulus' rather cruel brain decides to remind him, and he
stifles a groan of defeat. There it is. That's all there is.

Of course, Regulus is not the type of person to let an opportunity pass him by, and he will
take advantage of a situation that benefits him. So, he shoves his crisis aside with force,
planning to deal with it never, then relaxes back into James. The motion causes James' arm to
tighten around him, snores briefly cutting out as he makes a noise oddly close to a deer (?),
then smacks his lips and starts snoring again. On anyone else, this would be ridiculous.
Because it's James, Regulus smiles where no one can see him.
James is sleeping so deeply that he doesn't even twitch at the first sounds of shuffling outside
the curtains. Regulus listens, though. He can hear Peter humming quietly, his voice actually
quite good, and it's not long before Remus murmurs good morning to him, which Peter
responds to in kind.

"Prongs not up yet?" Peter asks, sounding surprised.

"It's Sunday. We've all slept in," Remus says.

"Yeah, but he's always up early," Peter comments. "You know his mind never quits, mate."

Remus sighs. "I know. Poor sod. If he's resting, let's let him be. Sirius, too, or he'll just be a
cunt."

"I heard that, Moony," comes the raspy reply from Sirius, who groans like he's dying.
"Starting already, are we?"

"I don't know, Sirius, are we?"

"Can't you be nice to me today?"

"If you like," Remus replies.

There's a pause, and then Sirius says, "Really? Is it that simple, Remus? All I had to do was
ask?"

"Took you long enough to work that one out," is Remus' answer, full of amusement. "Get up
if you're up, yeah? We're just waiting on James now."
"James isn't up?" Sirius blurts out, suddenly sounding much more awake, and then there's a
solid thump on the floor as Sirius releases a startled huff. Peter and Remus can be heard
quietly chuckling. "Shut it, that didn't happen, no one saw that. Anyway, forget it, James isn't
up. Do you know what this means, lads? We can finally play a harmless little prank—"

"Don't even think about it," James mutters, sounding startlingly alert, and Regulus jolts so
hard that he'd probably tip right out of the bed if not for James' arm clamping down on him to
keep him from falling.

"Oh," Sirius says sadly, "he's up."

Yes, apparently he is. Regulus' heart races, because he can't recall when exactly James' snores
cut out, maybe sometime around Peter humming. He'd been listening to the others and so
relaxed that he hadn't even noticed James waking up, but he'd been sure that he would notice,
because James would surely pull away the moment he realized he was holding onto Regulus,
alone where no one could see. Except he didn't.

Slowly, Regulus turns to peer over his shoulder, struck by the image of James right behind
him, hair a wreck, eyes uncovered without his glasses. His gaze is a little unfocused, so
Regulus suspects his vision is blurry at the moment, but it's the clear lucidity of them that
really makes his stomach wriggle around. James is very awake. Has been awake for a bit.
Long enough that he could pull away—but didn't.

"Good morning," James greets, smiling at him like nothing is abnormal or amiss about him
still holding onto Regulus at all.

"Morning," Remus, Sirius, and Peter chorus back.

James rolls his eyes and draws away, slipping his hand out to snag his glasses off the bedside
table, shoving them on his face. He sits up, flashes Regulus an unfairly charming grin, then
ruffles his hair and climbs out of bed. The curtains flutter as he pushes out of them.
Regulus lays there for a moment longer, having yet another crisis to forcefully shove away,
and then he does the same exact thing James did, excluding the glasses bit. The comical
double-take that Remus, Peter, and then Sirius give almost makes the bad idea of sleeping
with James worth it.

"Well, I can say I genuinely wasn't expecting you to pop out," Peter announces, blinking
rapidly.

"James?" Sirius sputters, eyes bulging. "Tell me my brother didn't just crawl out of bed with
you."

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Padfoot, because that would be considered lying," James replies
solemnly.

Sirius makes an odd choking noise. "Was he in there the whole time? Did you cuddle my
baby brother all night?"

"Well, not all night, but—"

"James!"

Yelping, James dives for the door the moment Sirius springs after him, and they go darting
across the room, one right after the other. James yanks the door open and crashes into the
wall outside of it with an exhilarated laugh, then bangs his way down the stairs, disappearing
out of sight. Sirius chases him, shouting and doing his absolute best to smother laughter of
his own (and failing to) the whole way.

Like that didn't even happen, Remus turns to Regulus and smiles mildly. "You get used to it.
Breakfast?"

Sighing, Regulus just says, "Yeah, sure."

"So?"

Regulus heaves a sigh. "No, I didn't shag James Potter."

As one, he gets four different pairs of eyes narrowed in suspicion, which he takes mild
offense to. He frowns at them from the very top of Evan's bed, leaning against the headboard.
They're all formed in a semi-circle around him expectantly, which they can actually do
because the bed in the Head Boy dorm is actually bigger than the ones in the dorms all the
other students use. Seeing as Evan can't meet with them anywhere else, they've decided to
just come to him.

Their obvious doubt is slightly insulting because he wouldn't lie about it, not to them, and
he'd likely be more of a mess. It takes them a moment to realize this, but they all inevitably
do, because their skepticism fades.

"I'm oddly disappointed?" Evan mumbles.

"Well, if all Gryffindors shag the same, I'm disappointed for you, because let me tell you,
Reg, you are missing out," Barty declares, shaking his head like he's still amazed.

"I can't believe you've shagged a bloke before I did," Regulus mutters in complaint,
frowning. He pauses. "Well, no, I take that back immediately. Yes, I can."

"Do you want to know what it was like?" Barty asks, waggling his eyebrows. "I can tell you,
or I can show you."

Regulus just looks at him and says, "I'd fall in love with you."
"I know," Barty replies, heaving a sigh. "Your poor heart won't let you rest, will it? I'm just in
no position to settle down yet and fall in love. Give me a few years, then I'm all yours."

"If we make it to twenty-five without settling with anyone else, then we'll give it a go
together," Regulus declares.

"That's a deal, then," Barty agrees, nodding, then he breaks out into a grin. "Well, if you ever
get over Potter, that is."

"He's not even under Potter," Dorcas says, then raises her eyebrows at him, "or would you
prefer to be on top?"

"I'm genuinely not fussed," Regulus admits. "Both. Merlin, both." His friends laugh at him,
and he hangs his head forward in disappointment, aware how pathetic he is. "Oh, this is
bad."

"The fact that you didn't shag him is good, though," Pandora declares supportively. "That's
good, isn't it?"

"I suppose it's—for the best," Regulus grumbles, even if his heart and cock do not agree with
this sentiment.

Barty snorts. "You still spent the night in his bed with him, though. As if that didn't make
things worse, unless—does he snore? Bad bedfellow, maybe? Find his flaws, Reggie; find
them and cling to them for dear life."

"The problem is," Regulus complains, "I even like his flaws. Yes, he does snore, and he's
clingy in his sleep, and—and he doesn't make his bed once he's out of it, but I don't care
about any of that when it's him. Because when it's him, it's—"

"Don't say cute," Barty warns.

"But it is," Regulus chokes out, utterly devastated by this. "It's so fucking cute. He's so
fucking—just, Merlin, I hate him."

"I wouldn't go that far," Evan says. "I mean, he's not the worst, but—"

"Oh, and you're now his number one fan, is that it? What's that all about anyway? You
approve of him now, do you?" Regulus challenges, eyes narrowing.

Absurdly, Evan's face turns red before he sputters, "What? No. Of course not!"

"Oh, bloody hell, you like him!" Dorcas bursts out, looking like she's having the time of her
life. "You actually think he's cool! Ha, Evan, do you want to be his friend?"

"I do not," Evan snaps, and Barty collapses forward with his head over in Evan's lap, roaring
with laughter. Evan swats at the side of his head. "Get stuffed, all of you. I do not want to be
James' friend."

"Oh, Rosier, you're even calling him James," Dorcas wheezes.

Regulus sighs. "This is what he does. It's alright, Evan. No one is immune to James Potter. He
will befriend you."

"He can damn well try," Evan mutters, scowling. His face is still red, which is amusing. Of
all the things to be embarrassed about. "I refuse, because we all refuse, because he makes you
feel awful. So, that's that."

"He doesn't make me feel awful," Regulus mumbles. "Not all the time, and when I do feel
awful because of him, it's not because of him. As in, it's not his fault. He's not doing anything
wrong, really. It's my own stupid fucking—"
Pandora clicks her tongue. "No, I won't hear that. As if we weren't all there last night. The
way he is with you… I swear, Regulus, are you sure he doesn't fancy you? Absolutely sure?"

"I'm certain," Regulus says firmly.

"I think you need to tell us why you're certain, because I'm doubting your credibility,"
Pandora tells him bluntly. "He couldn't keep his hands or eyes off you, Regulus. Every time
you smiled or laughed, he smiled like a reflex. Lily Evans was right across from him, and he
spent the entire night focused on you like you were the center of his universe."

Regulus holds his breath for a moment, feeling untethered in a chasm of hope that threatens
to swallow him whole, and if he's not careful, he'll be submerged in it, drowning in
possibilities that aren't actually possible. For a second, he remembers telling James how Lily
couldn't keep her eyes off him. Merlin, I didn't even notice, James had said. Why not?
Regulus hadn't asked, and he should have, but he was too scared to. He's still too scared to.

Regulus finally exhales and claws his way back up from that abyss, bloody nails and ripped
palms, then says, "He was acting, Pandora. It was all for show."

"If he can pull off pretending that well, then he's fucking insane," Barty announces. "No one
sane can fool so many with acting like someone they're not."

"I bet you could," Evan muses.

"Oh, yeah, definitely," Barty agrees with a chuckle.

"It's just—how can you be sure, though?" Pandora insists. "Because it really seems like—"

"He doesn't, alright?" Regulus snaps, his words harsh enough that they all fall silent and stare
at him. "I'm so sure because he would fucking mention it to me. You don't—you have to
understand him, and none of you really, properly do. James does everything—absolutely
everything—with his entire heart, especially when it's important to him. If—if he actually—if
he did feel that way about me, he would do something about it. He wouldn't pretend to. If it
was real to him, he wouldn't settle for it being fake. He wouldn't be able to handle it."

Dorcas heaves a sigh. "That does unfortunately sound...pretty bang on, from what I do know.
It's—I mean, they're right to say that the acting is too good that there's no truth to it, because
it's really… Well, Reg, you're not on the outside of it, so you don't see how it looks. I swear
I'd think he was in love with you if I didn't know he'd make sure everyone knew it. But we
still—well, it'd be nice, wouldn't it? If it worked out like that for you, I mean. We all want
you to be happy, that's all."

"It won't work out that way, and I've made my peace with it," says Regulus, who hasn't made
his peace with anything, ever, not once in his life. "However it looks, it's not actually real."

"I'm so sad," Pandora states honestly, in that whimsical way of hers. "Oh, this is making me
so sad. You deserve for it to work out. I have this awful feeling that it's going to end badly."

"Could be wrong," Evan points out weakly, but they all know Pandora's never really wrong,
especially when she's had a feeling about something.

Pandora squeezes her eyes shut. "Merlin, I hope so."

"Let's just—can we just stop talking about it?" Regulus asks wearily, grimacing. "Dorcas, tell
us about Marlene. Did you go off and snog your most bitter rival?"

"As a matter of fact," Dorcas says, "I did not."

"Give me my two galleons back," Regulus mutters, nudging Pandora's leg with his foot.

"You got them from James?"

"I'll give them back."

"No you won't."

"No I won't."

"Maybe later," Pandora replies lazily, which means Regulus will never see those two galleons
again. She hates losing bets anyway. She has a bit of a gambling problem.

Dorcas huffs. "You bet on—of course you did, you fucking twats. Obviously I didn't snog
her. We just—well, we were chatting, and then she said it felt too crowded and she wanted
some air, so we started wandering about the castle. We kept chatting, and...nothing came of it.
For one, she was far more pissed than I was, so I didn't try anything. For two, we got caught
up in chatting, really. I think she apologized at least fifty times for that incident in our fourth
year."

"Oh, right, but you fancy her," Evan says.

"Now did I say that?"

"Did you have to? You want to snog her at least."

"Well, I wouldn't be...opposed," Dorcas admits. "Doesn't mean I fancy her, though. I don't
even know if she fancies girls, and anyway, it's McKinnon. I can't—I mean, I'd look stupid
going after her when I spent years despising her."

"Mm, love's not far from hate, you know," Pandora suggests sagely. "Maybe you just got
them a bit mixed up. Thought you despised her, but you just fancied her."

"I'd like to think I have a little more depth to me than that."

"Wouldn't we all?"

"Merlin, I'm so disappointed in all of us," Evan announces with a deep sigh. "We're meant to
be more put together than this, you know. Look at us. We're pathetic."

"Don't include me," Barty protests. "I am thriving."

"You're pathetic enough on your own to beat us all combined, so don't even try it," Evan says.
"I expected better from us."

Regulus snorts derisively and tilts his head back against the headboard, glaring at the ceiling.
"You should know better. Having expectations always leads to disappointment."

"It's Valentine's Day tomorrow," James informs him, sidling up to him as he heads down to
the dungeons.

"Is it? My word, Potter, thank you so much for telling me. I would have never known,"
Regulus replies dryly, pointedly glancing up at the heart bubbles floating through the air
above their heads, as they're doing all over the castle.

James laughs, reaching out to grab his hand. "Feeling mean today, I see. Not a good look for
the upcoming holiday."

"Oh, well, tomorrow is a new day. I'll be sure to swoon in your arms and shower you in love
notes the moment the clock strikes twelve," Regulus says, rolling his eyes.

"Would you actually?"

"No."

"I don't know what I was expecting," James mutters, then chuckles like he can't help it. "So,
do you—do you hate the day, then? Some people do, I know."

Regulus shrugs. "I'm indifferent. I don't like some of the loud serenading that certain students
have done in the past."

"I've done serenading in the past."

"Yes, I know. Who do you think put me off it?"

"Right, no serenading, then. Noted. What else? Have you ever gotten anything?" James asks
curiously.

"I have, yeah. Girls, obviously, which I've no interest in, as you know. Didn't mind the
chocolate, though," Regulus admits.

James bobs his head, humming. "So, chocolate is approved."

"I've gotten poems and such. Some of them were actually quite beautifully written, and if I
liked the prose enough, I wouldn't burn them immediately at the table."

"You kept them?"

"No, I just waited until I could burn them away from prying eyes, so whichever girl wrote it
wouldn't feel embarrassed. The others—well, some of them deserved to feel embarrassed for
the things they wrote," Regulus mumbles, his face scrunching, especially when he remembers
the notes he'd relished in turning to ash where everyone could see him do it; the ones either
so nauseatingly soppy that they had to be destroyed immediately, or the ones full of naughty
filth that were so detailed that he'd hated even touching them.
"No poetry," James says, swinging their hands until Regulus stiffens his arm and tangles their
fingers more firmly to make him stop. "Anything else?"

Regulus frowns at him. "It doesn't have to be a big—"

"No, but it does, though. I love the excuse, and I'm a bit of a romantic," James tells him.

"You? Really? I hadn't noticed," Regulus replies sarcastically.

James breaks out into a grin. "Merlin, I adore when you're like this. Feels like we could go
round and round for ages. It's fun. I don't know how else to describe it." He huffs out a soft
laugh and bumps their shoulders together. "Genuinely, though, I do want to celebrate, if you
don't mind."

"Just don't make a scene," Regulus murmurs. "Well, no, I get that you'll probably be in high
spirits, so I won't pretend that you won't make a scene or five, but I draw the line at
serenading. Everything else…" He heaves a sigh and looks skyward, inwardly bemoaning the
fact that he'd literally let James get away with anything. "Whatever you like."

"Yeah?" James asks, brightening immediately, and fuck, how could anyone ever manage to
deny him anything?

"Yes," Regulus says. "Do you want something?"

"For Valentine's Day?" James blinks, startled.

Regulus arches an eyebrow at him. "No, for Christmas. Yes, for Valentine's Day, James."

"Oh. I—you'd do that?"

"No, I'm asking just to refuse to."

James releases a muffled groan that borders on a laugh, and he tugs them to a sharp halt right
in the middle of the corridor, leaning in to press his smile right against Regulus' mouth. It
hardly even counts as a kiss with the way James is laughing breathlessly, but Regulus
appreciates it for what it is, for how lovely it is that it's happening at all. James is still
chuckling when he breaks away, his eyes bright, and Regulus forces himself not to dart his
gaze around to the students near them, because there are quite a few.

He does see one girl walk past with a lollipop sticking out of her mouth, and she glances at
them only once before carrying on as if nothing is amiss about them kissing in the middle of
the walkway. Of course, Regulus is sure that others aren't as careless about it, but he's starting
to think that less and less people are as startled by it. That's a step in the right direction.
People do dangerous things out of shock.

"Never stop being you, Regulus," James tells him warmly. He smiles so hard that his nose
scrunches. "Anyway, you don't have to do anything, if you'd prefer not to."

"Do you want me to?" Regulus insists, exasperated and also mildly flustered. Shut up, he's
struggling.

"Well, I know you don't actually—" James halts, glancing around, then he lowers his voice
and leans in to whisper in Regulus' ear. "I know you don't actually fancy me, so if you'd
rather not bother with it, then—"

Regulus pulls back to arch an eyebrow at him. "Why don't you let me worry about what I'll
bother with, yeah?"

"I—I mean, if you're sure." James bites his lip, but Regulus can see the smile he's trying to
hide. Oh, this lovely fool. He's so fucking excited by the idea that he'll get something for
Valentine's Day. Of course he is. "I don't care. Whatever you want to do is fine. Doesn't take
much to please me, really."
"Wow, I'm shocked," Regulus says flatly, even if he's melting on the inside. Oh, James, he
thinks. James, James, James.

"James!" The shout down the hall from none other than Peter, who's standing with Remus,
the two of them waving, manages to snag their attention. "Come on, mate, we need to get
back to the common room!"

"Right, I have to go," James mutters. "Where are you off to?"

"Going back to my dorm for now. Barty and I left books there we need for studying,"
Regulus explains, nodding down the corridor towards where Barty is lazily perched against
the wall, looking bored as he waits for Regulus to join him.

James seems appeased that he won't be alone, and he nods before pressing a quick kiss to
Regulus' cheek. He backs away after, beaming. "See you, lover. Have a good day."

Regulus rolls his eyes and turns away, continuing up the hall to meet up with Barty, who
immediately starts making kissy faces at him and being all around obnoxious, so Regulus
shoves him, which prompts Barty to shove him back. They settle down before they make it
back to the dungeons, so they're calm when entering the Slytherin common room, but they're
also locked into a deep discussion about the latest drama in the Ministry (of which there is
always plenty), so Barty doesn't notice Mulciber until he bumps right into him.

"Watch it, Crouch," Mulciber snaps, lip curling into a sneer.

Barty, being Barty, retorts back with, "Forgive me, Mulciber, it's just I forget you exist, like I
often do with all useless things. Always an unpleasant reminder, you are."

Mulciber, being Mulciber, immediately puffs up, standing at full height as he sneers. "Mind
your fucking tongue, Crouch, or I'll cut it out your mouth."
"Oh, I'd like to see you bloody try," Barty declares with a harsh laugh, his wand suddenly in
his hand.

"Barty," Regulus says sharply, stepping forward, and that's when it all promptly goes to shit.

Snape, Avery, and Wilkes are there in seconds. Avery and Wilkes are a problem; Snape
usually is not. They were never close friends, but they'd talked about potions together, a
mutual passion they both have. They'd formed some sort of respect for each other, to the
point that they would nod at each other in the halls and actually speak to one another if they
had something to say. Before he was disowned for being gay, Regulus would have gone so
far as to say that he didn't have any issues with Snape at all; he was always more tolerable
than the friends he spent his time with.

Then, well, Regulus was disowned, and all of that stopped. Not because Snape was rude to
him, or because he started being a shit, but simply because it fell to the wayside in everything
else. The last time Wilkes had a go at Regulus, Snape wasn't even around. Simply put,
Regulus and Snape didn't quite care about each other in a way that made either of them notice
that they no longer spoke, or nodded at each other in the halls. It hasn't helped that Regulus
avoids the common room, as well as the people Snape associates with, most especially.

Even still, Regulus prepares himself to see malice or disgust in Snape's eyes, but there isn't
any. Just a complete lack of respect that was there before, which Regulus thinks may have
something to do with him dating James Potter, more so than being a gay man. His hatred for
James is not a secret.

"Oh, you're still here, Black?" Wilkes asks. "Didn't go running off to hide in your dorm?"

"Lovely, Wilkes, you have working eyes," Regulus says dryly.

"Wish I didn't, having to look at the likes of you," Wilkes retorts, palming his own wand,
visibly itching to use it.

"Makes sense. If I had to look at someone better than me in every possible way, I'd be upset
about having eyes, too," Regulus tells him with a mock-sigh, and Wilkes makes a low sound
of fury, mouth twisting.

"Going to let Black fight your battles for you, Crouch?" Mulciber snarls. "Someone like him
—"

Barty cuts him off with a laugh. "Someone like him? You mean someone who could have you
swimming in the lake before you could even lift your wand? What's the matter? Jealous that
he's not ashamed of himself like you are? Let's not pretend you're not all off salivating to
suck each other's cocks the moment you get alone." He pokes his bottom lip out, making a
small, pouty noise. "Aw, are you going through a rough time?"

Three things happen at once.

Snape says, warningly, "Wilkes, don't—"

Mulciber snarls in anger and raises his wand, firing a spell at Barty, who rears back and
nearly trips over his own feet, but the momentum allows him to twist out of the way, and then
he's firing back with something that hits Mulciber square in the chest and sends him flying
back so hard and so far that he goes crashing into a table.

Avery, the prick, also surges forward to have a go at Barty, and because Barty is focused on
Mulciber, Regulus has to block the incoming spell with a quick flick of his wand, meaning
he's not prepared for the spell from Wilkes that clips him in the shoulder and sends him
stumbling back.

It's chaos after that.

For the life of him, Regulus wouldn't be able to explain all that happens. There's just him and
Barty beside each other; Barty dealing with Mulciber, and partially Avery; Regulus dealing
with Wilkes, and whatever with Avery that Barty can't get to. They hold their own really well
for boys outnumbered and dueling with those a year ahead of them.
And then Avery punches Barty in the nose, takes him down to the floor to begin strangling
him, and—well, Regulus is done with it. Everything narrows down to a fine point, a
dangerous calm sweeping through him until his annoyance and anger is bottle-necked, and
then he's just reacting. Just latched onto target with cold precision.

With one wave of his wand, Avery is gone. Ripped right off of Barty, whose nose is bleeding,
and banished elsewhere. Just like last time, with Wilkes, this causes mass confusion. Less so
this time, because Mulciber and Wilkes glance up quickly to the high-ceiling windows to
locate their friend absolutely flailing in the lake the common room extends under.

"Black!" Wilkes roars.

Barty starts laughing as he pushes to his feet, looking up with a feral grin as blood stains his
teeth. He raises both hands to flip off Avery, who is visibly panicking above them.

"Bring him back!" Mulciber bellows, marching forward to press the tip of his wand under
Regulus' chin.

"Ah, ah, ah," Regulus says softly, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. I'm the only one who can
bring him back, unless you want to go for a little swim. I can make that happen for you as
well, Mulciber, you just have to ask."

"You think you're so fucking clever, don't you, Black?" Wilkes spits, his wand trained on
him.

"Oh, he is. He's so fucking clever," Barty crows, still laughing as he swivels his head to grin
at Wilkes. "What is it, Wilkes? Remembering your own dunk in the lake? Still scared, are
you? Having nightmares about it, I'll bet. You look like you're about to piss yourself."

Wilkes slashes his wand through the air, and Barty's whole body locks up, falling like a stone
to the ground only moments later. Blood continues to pour from his nose, and his eyes are
still bright with vindictive humor, despite his predicament.
"He's going to drown," Snape notes, sounding remarkably bland and dry as he stares up at
Avery, but then again, that's always been the cadence of his voice. "He'll never make it to the
surface before he does. Black, you have to—"

"Bring him back," Mulciber grits out, shoving his wand more forcefully against Regulus'
throat.

"Apologize first," Regulus replies, lips curling up.

Mulciber's nostrils flare. "You won't let him die."

"Won't I?" Regulus says, arching an eyebrow and holding his gaze with a challenge. "Would
you bet his life on it?"

"We're sorry," Wilkes grits out, like the words are the equivalent to shoving splinters under
his fingernails.

"I don't believe I was asking you, Wilkes, but I'm touched," is Regulus' wry response.

"I'm not fucking apologizing to you, Black. You're going to bring him back, even if I have to
make you," Mulciber snarls. Then, he leans in with eyes gleaming malice, and so very clearly
states, "Imperio."

Regulus feels it wash over him, his whole body going lax immediately, even as his mind
riots. His free will bends until it snaps under Mulciber's rough, careless hands; shattering to
pieces in his palm, mere toys to play with. Regulus is but a puppet on his strings.

"Bring him back," Mulciber says.

Regulus does.
 In seconds, Avery is hunched over on the floor, hacking and coughing as he gasps for air,
shivering and drenched from head-to-toe.

"Go kick Crouch in the nose and return to me," Mulciber says.

Regulus does.

He walks over and stops next to Barty. Distantly, in his mind, he can make sense of the panic
in Barty's eyes, no amusement to be found at all, vaguely aware that none of it is for himself,
but all for Regulus. This makes it even worse when, no matter how much Regulus tries not
to, he raises his foot and brings it right down on Barty's face. There's a grotesque crunch, and
Regulus draws his foot back, turns around, and goes right back to Mulciber.

"Now, Black," Mulciber says, leaning in with a grin, eyes bright with power, "go drown
yourself in the lake."

Regulus does.

Chapter End Notes

for those of you checking for the in-depth warning of what happens, regulus and barty
get into a duel/fight with mulciber, avery, and wilkes. snape is there, but he's not really
doing anything. throughout the altercation, each party insults each other, and regulus
being gay is hinted at, but no slurs are used. avery punches barty and starts strangling
him on the floor, only briefly before regulus pops avery into the black lake, and wilkes
puts barty in a body-bind. following that, mulciber uses the imperius curse to make
regulus bring avery back from the lake, then kick barty in the face, and then he orders
regulus to go drown himself in the lake.

for those of you who have already finished the chapter, i really led all of you in with a
false sense of security with this one, didn't i? 😭😭😭

obviously i do not condone any of these acts of violence or endorse anything that took
place, and it will be expanded on and handled and not brushed aside, this i can promise
you.

a little spoiler for next chapter: its james' pov again!

so, how are we feeling?

 ACT THREE: Part One
Chapter Notes

alright, here we are, friends.

the warnings are as follows: depictions of a character drowning from an outsiders

perspective, a brief grief-stricken reference to suicide, a brief depiction of violence (not
explicit, but explained), some threats and a few breakdowns.

i will be giving an in-depth warning in the end notes (as well as some reassurances) for
those who need them, which is—as always—incredibly valid.

enjoy?

See the end of the chapter for more notes

James remembers that his parents used to tell him he was a little genius in the making
(among other things, because they honestly spoiled him quite a bit), and he believed them, so
it took a great deal of years for him to ever entertain the possibility that he might be a bit of
an idiot.

He couldn't tell you the very first time he had the thought, just that frustrated oh, I'm so stupid
that everyone is sure to have felt in various ways at least a few times in their life. Did that
retract from his overall brilliance? No, not a bit. When it comes to being an idiot, being
stupid, he's learned that even the brightest people are susceptible to that unfortunately
common phenomenon. He likes to think that the proper amount of stupidity in one's life is
just as necessary and important as the intelligence everyone is so quick to praise; they
balance one another out, really.

That being acknowledged, James feels like an idiot and keeps thinking oh, I'm so stupid on
repeat, his head in his hands as he stares down at his parchment in dismay, because here he is,
one of the biggest romantics in this bloody school, and he can't figure out what to do for
fucking Valentine's Day.

It's driving him spare, if he's honest, because he has ideas. Oh, he has loads of ideas, things
ranging from extremely excessive to so casual they hardly count, but none of the ideas feel
right. He discards each of them, one right after the other, because he always quickly decides
that none of them are good enough for Regulus. It has to be—it feels absolutely imperative to
James that it goes just right, from beginning to end.

"Mate, you weren't even half this stressed for O.W.L.s," Peter points out, sounding a mixture
of amused and sympathetic.

"This is more important," James mutters, hands gripping his hair on either side of his head.

"Than the O.W.L.s?" Remus asks skeptically.

James makes a small sound of pure misery. "Yes, Remus, more important than the fucking
O.W.L.s, alright? I have to—I have to get this absolutely right, and nothing is fucking—" He
can't help but groan and pull harshly at his hair, feeling ridiculously close to tears. "Oh, this is
so hard. Why is this so hard? I'm usually so good at things like this."

"James," Remus says carefully, "I think it's high time we talk about these perfectionist
tendencies you have."

"Oh, Moony, I know you're not carrying on about that, and it's a damn good thing Sirius isn't
here to join in at the moment, because he'd have no room to have a go either," Peter mutters
in exasperation. "I've been surrounded by a bunch of gits aiming for perfection for years."

Remus looks mildly affronted. "What? Wormtail, that's not—I mean, you're right about
Sirius, but me? I never aimed for perfection; I just wanted to make it through these seven
years, quiet and unassuming and unnoticed."

"Oh?" Peter folds his hand under his chin and smiles sweetly at Remus. "And how is that
going for you?"

"Well, because of you lot—"

"Ah, ah, don't even try it. I can see right through you. We're the lights of your life, Remus,
don't deny it. Go on, you love us. Don't you love us? You do. You know you do, don't you?"

"Do you fill in bothering me when Padfoot is away?" Remus asks wryly, but there's a tiny
smile curving his mouth that he's trying to hide as Peter repeatedly nudges him with his
elbow.

"Someone has to," Peter says sagely, "and you love it. You love us all for being relentless,
persistent nuisances from the very first year. Isn't that right?"

James looks up, softening helplessly. "You do, Moony, it's true." Remus rolls his eyes, and
James joins in on nudging him, making him rock back and forth between him and Peter,
much to their amusement. "Go on, then. Admit it. You love us so, so much. You'd be
miserable without us."

"I'd probably know peace without you lot," Remus says. They just stare at him, and he gives
in with a sigh and a smile. "Yes, alright. Against my better judgment, I do love you idiots."

"Hear that, Prongs?" Peter asks, wiping away an invisible tear.

"I hear it, Peter," James confirms with a fake sniffle, lying his hand over his chest. "Finally,
after all these years of constant questioning, we have our answer. He's loved us all along."

"Merlin, someone should tell Sirius. He's going to be fucking ecstatic," Peter says, which
prompts him and James to dissolve into laughter.

Remus huffs and taps the parchment in front of James. "Oh, piss off, both of you. Go back to
fretting, James."

"Please don't remind me," James mumbles, strained, his laughter cutting off abruptly.
"Are you really this tangled up about it?" Remus asks, his eyebrows furrowing. "It's just
Valentine's Day, mate. Get him a chocolate frog or something."

James rears back, horrified. "What? Is that what you consider peak romance? Genuinely?"

"Well, not really, but I'd be happy to get a chocolate frog."

"You're always happy to get a chocolate frog."

"You know," Remus muses, lips pursed, "that's fair, actually."

"I'll get you a chocolate frog, Moony, if you like," Peter offers with a grin. "Will you be my
valentine?"

"If you get me a chocolate frog, absolutely."

"Your funeral, mate," James says to Peter.

Peter blinks, then chuckles. "Ah, yes, for a moment, I forgot that Sirius would end up
smothering me in my sleep."

"He wouldn't," Remus denies.

"He absolutely would," James corrects. "He's getting worse, have you noticed? Surely you've
noticed. Ever since your nice gardener—"

"Please stop mentioning it," Remus complains, grimacing.

James holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm just saying, mate, ever since that, Sirius has been
more...territorial. Even Pete and I aren't safe anymore. So, if you'd do us all a favor and put
both of you—and everyone else—out of this misery—"

"He'd probably relax a bit more," Peter agrees sheepishly. "He's so wound up now. I sort of
feel bad for him."

Remus scowls. "I don't know what world you live in where I'm the solution to—whatever his
problem is. We're friends. What am I meant to do? Risk ruining that just because he's been a
little clingier than normal? That's just Sirius. Remember when you dated Cecilia last year,
Peter, and Sirius kept complaining because you were spending more time with her than us?"

"That's three months of my life I'll never get back," Peter mumbles with a frown. "Yeah,
alright, I remember. But overall, he was actually really supportive. When I went through the
breakup, it was him that helped the best. Er, no offense."

"None taken," James assures him, because he gets it, really. Not many know it, but Sirius can
be a bigger source of comfort than anyone would expect. He's good at making others feel
good about themselves, likely because he knows intimately what it's like to not, which is such
a sad thought that James' shoulders slump. Why can't any of his friends just love themselves
the way he loves them?

"Sirius is Sirius," Remus mumbles. "He's been through a lot as of late, between his brother
and his own...realizations about himself, and the last thing he needs is his friend, who he
trusts, to pop out and offer to—to shag him, which would only lead to future problems for
him...and me. So."

"Alright," Peter declares, smacking his hand down to the table as he leans in and outright
glares at Remus, "I've had enough. James has made his promises, but I've done no such thing,
so I'll just fucking tell you, then. He's in love with you, Remus. Arse over head pathetically in
love with you."

"He's really not," Remus replies, clipped.

James heaves a sigh. "Wrong one, Pete. You think I haven't told Remus this? Sirius is the one
I can't tell about how Remus feels, due to my promises."

"And if you fucking try it, Peter, I'll smother you in your sleep," Remus declares firmly,
narrowing his eyes at him.

"At this point, it might be worth it," Peter mutters, slumping back in his chair. "You'd both
thank me in the end, if I did, and I'd die knowing that at least you two would be happy."

"Leave it, mate," James says wearily. "They have to do it on their own, yeah? Better that
way."

Remus rolls his eyes. "You two are ridiculous."

"You're ridiculous," James and Peter reply in unison.

"Um, s'cuse me," says a soft voice, and they all look up to find a first year girl shifting
awkwardly beside the table they're all settled at in the common room. Her name is Susie, and
James knows she's a bit shy, so he automatically smiles at her to try and ease the way she's
clearly intimidated by them.

"Hello, Susie," James greets warmly. "How are you?"

Susie's face turns red. "I'm—I'm alright. Sorry to bother, but there's a Slytherin girl at the
portrait asking after you. Says her name is Dorcas. She seemed really upset about
something."

"Oh," James says, blinking rapidly before standing. "Thank you for letting me know, Susie."

"You're welcome," Susie mumbles, then ducks her head and scurries off to her friends,
looking like she's just faced down a terrible foe.
James frowns at Remus and Peter, and they watch him go in mild concern, but he wastes no
time. Moments later, he's stepping out of the portrait to find Dorcas pacing back and forth,
her hands shaking. "Dorcas? Everything alright?"

"Is he here?" Dorcas chokes out, whirling around to face him, her eyes a little wild. "Potter, is
he here with you?"

"Who? Do you mean Regulus?" James' heart starts racing immediately, and a harsh build of
dread starts to form a thick film of ice over his veins.

"Yes. Is he here? Tell me he's—" Dorcas cuts herself off, looking at him with so much
desperation that James feels his stomach tangle into knots.

"No, he's not," James says softly, swallowing, and Dorcas balls both hands into fists. She's
shaking. "Dorcas, what happened? What's wrong?"

"James, is everything alright?" Remus murmurs, stepping outside of the portrait with Peter
right behind him, their concern palpable.

"Dorcas?" James prompts more insistently. "The last I knew, Regulus was with Barty. Have
you checked with him? Has something happened?"

Dorcas releases a muffled noise, like he's just punched her directly in the chest. "Fuck. Fuck.
He's gone, then. He's—I don't—" She comes to an abrupt halt and looks right at James, her
eyes wide. "You can find him. You always seem to know where he is, so fucking find him,
James. Right now."

"Remus," James says, but never gets to finish.

"Already on it," Remus declares, darting back through the entrance to no doubt go to check
the map. He's the fastest out of all of them, in terms of running.

"What do you mean he's gone?" James rasps.

"Evan wanted to see Zar, so I—" Dorcas swallows. "Well, I planned to go up and get him and
sneak him down to the common room for Evan to see him, since he can't be seen going
anywhere Regulus is, but when we got there…" She wraps her arms around herself. "Barty is
—he's bad, James. His face is a fucking mess, and—and whatever they did to him, he
wouldn't wake up. Regulus was nowhere to be found, and Barty was just lying there on the
floor, so Evan took him to Hospital Wing, and I'm—I'm trying to find—"

"Oi, what's Meadowes doing skulking about in front of our common room?" Sirius teases as
he walks up, cutting into the moment, finally showing up from his latest meeting with
McGonagall for his 'misconduct', even though James suspects it was one of those where they
just talked.

"Sirius," Peter says quietly, and the mood seems to catch up with Sirius and hit him fully as
he glances around.

"What is it?" Sirius asks, his shoulders going tense.

"Have you seen Regulus?" Dorcas demands, focusing on him with hope that's genuinely a
little heartbreaking.

Sirius blinks. "What? Yeah, just saw him a few minutes ago."

"You did?" Dorcas says, nearly whimpering in relief, so much tension draining out of her
body that it'd be impossible to miss. "Did he—was he alright?"

"I suppose. The prick didn't stop to talk to me, and when I asked where he was off to, he said
he had to go drown himself in the lake, the dramatic git," Sirius replies with a chuckle, but
then his eyebrows furrow. "Why? What's happened?"

"I really don't know for sure, but Barty's been beat up badly. Evan had to take him to the
Hospital Wing. We need to find Reg regardless; he'd want to know," Dorcas explains.

"Merlin," Sirius hisses, lips tipping down. "Who—"

"We don't know," Dorcas insists. "We have no idea, because we couldn't get Barty to wake
up, and no one was in the common room. It was empty, and it's never empty, so something
went wrong. If Regulus wasn't there—"

"He was with Barty," James whispers, something sharp and harsh creeping up his spine. Pure
fear. "When I saw him earlier, he said he was going back to the dorm with Barty."

Before anyone can say anything else, Remus slips back out of the portrait and says, looking
confused, "From what I saw, he's just heading towards the lake."

That settles between them all for a second, and James watches all the color drain from Sirius'
face before he promptly turns and fucking sprints. James is only a second behind him.

James doesn't think he's ever run so hard and so fast in his life, and still, Sirius stays ahead
the entire time. He cuts the path, carelessly shoving people out of the way when they don't
dive aside in enough time, and it must look ridiculous. It must be absolutely baffling to see a
group of four Gryffindor boys and one Slytherin girl sprinting at full speed through the castle
like they're running for their lives. James doesn't care what it looks like; he doesn't care about
anything but getting to that fucking lake, getting to Regulus.

James has never known fear like this, not even the fear of the moment he realized Sirius had
sent Snape past the tree, because there's no anger in this. It's just pure, unfiltered panic, and
he can't imagine the feeling getting any worse, but that's before they make it outside, close
enough to the lake to see the form of Regulus wading into it. James would swear that his
heart nearly leaps up his throat, making him feel like he's going to vomit, and everyone starts
shouting all at once.
Regulus doesn't stop, or turn around, or acknowledge any of them at all. He just keeps going
further in, like it's not the middle of February and freezing out. As hard as they all run, no one
gets there before his head slips under the surface.

"Sirius!" James bellows. "Sirius, you can't fucking swim!"

"Neither can he!" Sirius roars back, and then he dives right into the lake without even
slowing down.

"I can't see him!" Dorcas shrieks. "He's not coming back up!"

James doesn't hear anything else, because he makes it to the bank at that moment and, just
like Sirius, dives right in without a second thought. The water is frigid, absolutely dreadful,
burning against his skin as cold as it is. It weighs down his robes and pulls his glasses right
off his face almost instantly, but James doesn't care.

He resurfaces with a gasp, teeth chattering, his vision blurry and full of the harsh, rocking
waves that sway him and lap up against his face. But, unlike Sirius and Regulus, he does
know how to swim, so he does just that.

There's no way to make sense of time, or anything other than the relentless pull of the water,
so James isn't sure when it is exactly that he reaches Sirius. Just catches up to him and nearly
overtakes him entirely until he realizes that Sirius is struggling to stay afloat. James rocks
into him, holding him up as they both gasp and hack and cough, spitting out water.

"I c-can't f-find—I can't s-see—James, do y-you—" Sirius seems to just give up, shivering
too hard to talk, constantly interrupted by water getting in his mouth, and he sounds like he's
in near hysterics anyway.

Before James can even attempt to respond, there's a harsh yank right at his navel, and he goes
sailing up right out of the water. He and Sirius cry out at the same time when they're ripped
forcefully away from one another, still reaching, but they're left hanging upside down in the
air, dangling over the surface. Their journey through the air is a much smoother one than to
the air, and James sees the world swirl around him as he's gently pulled back to the bank.
Before he's even deposited safely to the ground, he can hear Sirius shouting.

"No! No, my brother's in there!"

James shudders as he looks up to see McGonagall, Madame Pomfrey, and Dumbledore

standing up next to him and Sirius. Dorcas is frantically searching the surface of the lake with
her eyes, and Remus has fallen to his knees next to Sirius, one arm curled around his
shoulders to keep him from springing up again. Peter nearly trips over himself to sink down
beside James, looking pale, his eyes wide as he clamps down on James' shoulder like he's
worried James will spring up, too.

"Remus, Remus, please," Sirius chokes out, hoarse and still coughing harshly. "It's Regulus.
He's my brother. Please."

"Mr. Black, I assure you, I am doing everything I can to find your brother," Dumbledore says
calmly. There's a minor splash, and James can see something small and shiny fly through the
air into Dumbledore's palm. He chuckles. He fucking chuckles. "Well, no, that's not it. Hm,
Mr. Potter, I do believe these belong to you."

James blinks rapidly as the blurred form of his glasses are held out to him. He takes them,
and Peter, who is dry, swipes away the dripping water for him. When James puts them back
on, he watches as Dumbledore comes into focus, standing on the bank with his wand raised,
glowing at the end.

"Please, please, please," Sirius chants, his eyes clamped shut as he all but clings to Remus,
shivering violently in his arms.

"Ah," Dumbledore announces, sounding as if he's just happened upon something mildly
delightful. The following splash is much louder than the last, and James whips his head
around to watch the limp form of Regulus break through the surface, water cascading off of
him.
"Regulus," Dorcas whimpers and very nearly sinks to the ground right then and there if not
for McGonagall quickly reaching out to catch her before she falls.

"Oh gods, oh Merlin," Sirius sobs, because he immediately starts sobbing, and he seems to
lose all the strength in his body the same as Dorcas, relying on Remus to hold him up.

"James? James, it's alright, mate, don't cry," Peter whispers to him, and James had no idea
that he was. "See? He's—he's…"

Peter trails off, and they all look up to see why. Regulus' limp form is still limp, and he
doesn't so much as twitch when he's gently deposited on the ground. He's so pale that it's like
the watercolor of his life washed away in the lake. His lips are blue.

He's too still.

"No," James denies instantly, frantically, and Peter isn't holding onto him hard enough, the
way Remus is Sirius, so there's no one to stop him from scrambling forward to Regulus. The
first thing he does is cup his face, choosing to ignore how his head rolls effortlessly in his
grip, just dead weight. "No. No, don't—please don't—"

"Is he—is he—" Sirius can't seem to finish, and he's leaning forward against Remus' arm like
he's trying to crawl to Regulus, but Remus just keeps holding onto him.

"Mr. Potter, I need you to back up now," Madame Pomfrey orders, then flicks her wand at
him to push him back, not even waiting for him to refuse her, because surely he would.

A cot is conjured underneath Regulus, and then he's being lifted into the air and carted away
fast. James doesn't think he's ever seen Madame Pomfrey move so fast, in fact, and he barely
even scrambles to his feet before she's a good distance away. She's running. James has never
seen her run before. She has moved briskly, bustled quickly, but outright ran? No. He's never
seen that, and somehow, it's the scariest thing he can think of; it makes all of it more real
somehow.
"Mr. Black, Mr. Black, Sirius," McGonagall is saying firmly, her arm held out to stop him
from sprinting after Regulus, as he's clearly trying to do. "You need to—"

"I need to get to my brother!" Sirius cuts in insistently, his eyes wide and still streaming.
"He's my—please, he's my—"

"Calm down, all of you," Dumbledore instructs, raising one hand as if to call for quiet. "Rest
assured, I would not keep any of you from seeing Mr. Black's sure recovery. I must insist that
Mr. Potter and the present Mr. Black be dried and warmed first, and then we will all go to the
Hospital Wing together. On the way, perhaps it could be explained what happened."

No one really argues, but that could be because Sirius and James are shivering too hard to do
so, Peter and Remus are too worried to, and Dorcas is too shaken up to manage it.

All James can think, as he stares off after the form of Madame Pomfrey and Regulus
shrinking the further they go, is a horrible, despaired he wasn't breathing.

James isn't either.

There's a horrible kind of silence that exists in the aftermath of something going terribly,
unexpectedly wrong. A heavy silence that feels brittle in one's palms, like breathing too much
could shatter it and make everything so much worse. They're all so careful with it,
determined not to break it.

James is dry now. He supposes he's meant to be warm, but he feels really cold. A sickly sort
of cold, like the very blood in his veins is chilled as it moves sluggishly through his whole
body. It leaves his heart thumping hard and painfully, swollen the way a bruise is, pulsing like
a wound does. His lungs feel frozen over, each inhale and exhale such a trial that he's not
entirely sure he's managing it. Quick and shallow in his chest, his breathing hitches over and
over like he's the one who—
James' eyes sink shut.

The others are as quiet and immobile as him. Pandora and Evan had been ushered out where
they were sitting with Barty, so they've been caught up as much as Dorcas could manage to
tell them. They knew nothing from Barty, who still hadn't woken up, though Madame
Pomfrey had assured them that, after proper rest, he would.

Peter is picking at his nails, his leg bouncing up and down from where he's propped up
against the wall beside James. They're both sitting, just sitting there. Sirius is pacing back and
forth in front of the doors, his face like stone, no trace of his earlier tears to be seen
anywhere. Remus is leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, tracking him with his
eyes.

It's hard. This is hard. He's finding it very hard not to think about how Regulus wasn't
breathing. His lips a dreadful, awful blue. Slick, black hair framing a pale, slack face. He
looked… He hadn't looked alive, and the thought makes James feel like he's screaming inside
his head, raw and loud and endless. A horrible part of his brain thinks, if it's true, if Regulus
is really… Well, James can feel the shape of the thought, wild and abrasive and untamed,
taking shape in his mind—that insane, inexplicable thought that he'll just go submerge
himself in the lake as well, rather than go on breathing when Regulus isn't.

Madame Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and McGonagall have not exited the Hospital Wing, not
even to step out and reassure them. Why haven't they reassured them yet?

The silence is so dreadfully loud.

It's the sound of quick steps approaching that makes all of them look up. Slughorn is bustling
towards the Hospital Wing, pulling Mulciber behind him with a shockingly strong grip.
Mulciber is scowling, dragging his feet, but he seems to not really have a choice in the
matter, as Slughorn—as startling as it is—clearly isn't fucking around. He looks as stern as
James has ever seen him. James slowly pushes to his feet.

"You are to stay put, Mr. Mulciber," Slughorn orders sharply, drawing to a halt a few feet
away. "Do not move."
"Are you mental?" Mulciber blurts out, darting his gaze towards them. All of them, because
now everyone's focused right on him. "You leave me here and I'm as good as dead!"

Slughorn glances over at everyone, then huffs slightly, stepping to the side and drawing his
wand. He waves it in a high arc, and a shimmering ward goes up from wall-to-wall,
separating Mulciber on the other side of it. With that, Slughorn marches into the Hospital
Wing, the doors slamming shut before any of them can get a glimpse inside.

Mere seconds after the doors shut, a spell goes flying right for Mulciber, which promptly
dissolves against the wards, not touching him at all. It's still satisfying watching him flinch,
though, at least until he starts smirking smugly. Shockingly, it's Dorcas who threw the spell,
and she's steadily making her way right for the barrier. She slams her hand up against it and
pushes, making Mulciber flinch yet again, but she's forced back a step. Her head tilts, eyes
cold.

"What did you do?" Dorcas says, and her voice is soft, but it rings out in the hallway despite
this.

"You'll have to be more specific, Meadowes," Mulciber retorts, lips curling. "Do you mean
what I did to Crouch—or Black?"

"You," Sirius snarls, and Mulciber—the fucking idiot—just smirks in visible satisfaction.

"Me," Mulciber confirms, smug. "Not that they didn't have it coming, mind."

Sirius lunges forward immediately, barely getting to really go far enough before Remus is
pulling him back. He locks his arms through Sirius' and remains steady, despite the way his
jaw clenches, and no matter how much Sirius fights to get free, Remus does not let him go.

"Oh, you better fucking hope they expel you, Mulciber," Evan declares sharply. "You better
plead with them to get you as far out of this castle as fast as they can, because if they don't, if
you're still here—before this year is out, you'll be dead."
"The way I understand it, that's Black already, isn't it?" Mulciber asks, leaning casually up
against the wall and looking amused when Dorcas smacks her hand against the wards again,
her chest heaving. "I'll bet he came out of the water like a limp fish. And Crouch? Well, it's
an awful thing, isn't it? Being bound, being trapped in your own body, unable to do anything,
can't even make a sound." Mulciber tuts in faux sympathy, but his eyes gleam. "I wish you
could have seen it, Rosier. The way Black kicked his face. Pure art."

"Regulus wouldn't—" Pandora starts, only to be cut off.

"Oh, didn't have much of a choice, did he?" Mulciber says with a low laugh. "Anyone will do
unforgivable things, won't they, with enough of the right persuasion? I suppose that's why
they call it an Unforgivable."

Sirius gets it first, almost immediately, and Remus can't hold him then. He surges forward to
throw himself at the wards, snarling, "You fucking imperioed him?!"

Mulciber cocks his head, grinning, visibly proud of himself. Genuinely, truly proud of what
he's done, like it's something to be praised for, as if it's a true testament to his magical skill.

"That's illegal," Peter breathes out.

"Yes, well, what's a bloke to do in a situation like that?" Mulciber mocks, but his face twists
in a scowl. "He only got what he deserved. He fucking dropped Avery into the sodding lake!
Would've killed him!"

"Good fucking riddance!" Sirius bellows, slamming his hands repeatedly against the wards.
"He should have killed him, and all of you. I'm going to kill each and every fucking one of
you. Mark my words, Mulciber, you're dead. You're all dead!"

"Like your little brother?" Mulciber shoots back, and at the same time, Dorcas and Sirius hit
the barrier with force.
It shakes.

Mulciber takes a solid step back.

There's a tang of magic in the air, tensions rising so high that it's tangible, emotional magic
pressing up against all of them, out of control. Sirius is the worst. When he gets properly
furious, he'll explode things and make an absolute mess in his tantrum. James knows what
Sirius' magic feels like when he's losing grip on himself; the heavy weight of it, the sharp
prick against the back of the neck, the thick, crackling something that threatens to smother
anyone who dares to come close.

Dorcas and Sirius exchange a look, only one, and then they're both throwing themselves at
the wards, and Evan's there, wand repeatedly flicking as hits each corner one right after the
other. Remus curses sharply under his breath and surges forward in the attempt to—likely
stop it, already knowing how bad it will go if the wards come down. Pandora jumps forward
to do the same, by the looks of it, and so does Peter.

James hasn't moved. James can't move. He stares at the Hospital Wing doors, willing them to
open, needing them to open. But they don't. They remain closed.

Breathe, James thinks. Please breathe.

There's a muffled pop followed by a loud bang! The backlash of the wards shattering sends
everyone close enough flying back, six different bodies crashing to the floor in a tangled
heap. James takes a sharp step back, staring in disbelief at the sight of his friends all
groaning, alive and well but slow to drag themselves back up. There's a soft laugh that makes
James' gaze snap up, and Mulciber's laughter abruptly cuts off the moment their eyes meet
across the space between them.

It hits James then, the full extent of what Mulciber did to Regulus, and to Barty. He took
away their agency, their free will; he stole it from them with no shame or remorse. It's sick. It
makes James feel sick.
And he doesn't care what Regulus has done. Or Barty. He doesn't care if they were just as
wrong as Mulciber, or if they were harmless, innocent victims throughout. That doesn't
matter to James, not at the moment. All that matters is that Regulus wasn't breathing, and
Mulciber is the reason.

"James," Remus croaks, trying to push himself up, "don't—"

James ignores him. He doesn't even—he's never felt such a startling, disturbing amount of
rage flood through him before. It's the sort of thing one would expect to be loud and
blistering on the inside, but it's quiet. So very quiet, as well as immediate, and the world
warps out of focus until he's not even sure he's a part of it.

It's like he blinks. One moment, he's standing locked in place; the next, he's smacked back
into his body to find his hands fisted in the front of Mulciber's robes as he slams him back
against the wall, rattling him like he'll just wrench him around until he stops working, as if
it'll make him malfunction so someone can go in and set him to rights.

"What's the matter, Potter? Mourning your boyfriend?" Mulciber taunts, his hands coming up
to shove at James' chest, pushing him back. "Do you reckon he was thinking of you in the
back of his mind, in his last moments, if he could think at all past the curse? When the water
flooded in, was he screaming your name? Shame you couldn't save him."

James' ears ring, and it all slips away. It's like blowing out a candle, that abrupt exhale
through pursed lips, the sudden fall of darkness that sucks the shadows into the room. The
burning wick of James' control is taken out, a gust of air whipping through him, and then it's
gone.

He doesn't register anything else until he finds his own back hitting the wall, thrown back
into it, and the world snaps back into focus. Mulciber is a crumpled heap on the floor. James
is breathing hard, and the first thing he makes note of, the first thing that startles him, is his
hands. They're the most steady part of his body, not even trembling; his knuckles are busted
and bloody; he thinks his right hand is broken, and he can't even properly make sense of the
pain radiating through it.

James looks up from his hands to find everyone staring at him, Remus' wand pointed at him,
his face pale. Even Sirius is standing and looking at him with wide eyes, lips parted.
They look…

"You were killing him," Dorcas whispers, throat convulsing on a harsh swallow. "James, you
were going to kill him."

James instinctively wants to argue with her, because he wouldn't—he wouldn't, that's not him
—but he doesn't even know what happened. He trails his gaze over to Mulciber, his whole
body jolting when registers how bad it is. He's a mess of blood and blooming bruises, already
swelling up dangerously around one eye. There's a small puddle of blood beside his mouth, a
tooth—an entire fucking tooth—sitting in it.

James doesn't remember.

"Alright," Remus says softly, lowering his wand. "James, mate, you're—you're alright,
yeah?" He walks forward, holding his gaze. "Come on, we need to get him into the
infirmary."

"I'm sorry," James whispers, and his hands are shaking now.

"I know. I know, it's alright," Remus murmurs, like he's soothing a wild animal or a
whimpering child, or both. James feels like both. "Help me get him up. Sirius, Peter, bang on
those doors until they open. Dorcas, Pandora, Evan, be prepared to blast through the fucking
wall if we have to."

The world feels so much slower now. Sluggish. Syrupy. There's a dull honey-glow to
everything that's making James' head pound. Every twitch of his fingers hurts his hands, both
of them, but he ignores it as he pushes shakily from the wall and helps Remus haul up
Mulciber—who is limp and out cold. His breathing is labored. James struggles not to vomit.

It takes a bit before someone eventually comes to the doors to see what all the fuss is about—
it's Slughorn, and he lets out a soft gasp like Mulciber didn't warn him about this very thing.
"My word," Slughorn blusters, looking really out of his depth as James and Remus push past
him.

"What's—" Madame Pomfrey does a double-take, and James would swear her eye twitches,
but then all she says is a very brisk, "On the bed over here. This one. Gently. Set him down
gently. Yes, yes, there we go. Back off now."

James steps back and keeps stepping back, but then halts when a curtain around the bed
across the room is pushed aside, McGonagall and Dumbledore sweeping out. They all get the
brief glimpse of Barty standing beside a bed that Regulus is lying on, and then the curtain
closes again.

"Reggie?" Sirius blurts out, moving forward immediately. "Is he alright? He's not awake.
Why isn't he—"

"Mr. Black, your brother is resting, but he is alive," Dumbledore cuts in, raising a hand. "Mr.
Crouch was just informing us what happened since Mr. Black was in no position to do so.
You will be more than welcome to visit him at Madame Pomfrey's discretion, but first…" His
gaze drags over to where Madame Pomfrey is working over Mulciber. His beard twitches
slightly. "Ah, that's unfortunate. Might I ask what happened to Mr. Mulciber?"

No one speaks. No one even makes a move to speak. James should be warmed by that, but he
isn't, really. He feels… He still feels out of sorts, but he can breathe. Resting, but he is alive.
Regulus is breathing. He's breathing.

"Me," James says, his voice startlingly strong, meeting Dumbledore's gaze steadily. "I
happened to him."

"Ah," Dumbledore replies, then heaves a sigh. "Minerva…"

Professor McGonagall steps forward, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Follow me, Mr.
Potter."
It's not a request; it's an order. McGonagall sweeps off with the clear demand for him to
instantly follow, and James looks at the curtains around Regulus' bed one more time before,
without looking at anyone else, he ducks his head forward and leaves right behind his Head
of House.

James doesn't leave the Headmaster's office until after curfew, so late that the castle is
creaky-quiet and the portraits are sleeping. He takes a moment and leans up against the wall
beside the gargoyle, shutting his eyes as he breathes.

A moment later, his parents sweep right past him, then pivot as soon as they see him. He
opens his eyes, takes one look at them, then just—breaks down.

"Oh, I knew you would," Effie says gently, moving forward to reach out and grab his arms,
letting him curl forward and press his face into her shoulder. "I knew you'd wait until no one
could see you. Shh, sweetheart. Breathe."

James tries to breathe, and it's been so much easier since knowing that Regulus is breathing,
but James can't get past that time—that mere hour—where he thought Regulus wasn't. He
reaches up and covers his mouth with his hand, trying to muffle the sounds of his sobs, and
Effie cups the back of his head. She had healed his hands hours ago, lips pressed into a thin
line; Monty had been glaring at Mulciber Snr.

They expelled him. Mulciber, that is. If his father wasn't part of the corruption that exists in
the Ministry, he'd probably have his wand snapped and see trial for Azkaban for the illegal
use of an Unforgivable. Mulciber Snr hadn't looked at all disappointed in his son, not for the
crime, and especially not when he found out it was Regulus Black his son used it on.

James has detentions until he fucking graduates, which isn't really a punishment, seeing as
he'd likely have those anyway. He lost Hogsmeade privileges for the month of March, and
there isn't one in April, or in June. McGonagall, looking like it pained her, had suggested he
be taken off the Quidditch team as well, but Dumbledore felt the detentions and revoked
Hogsmeade privileges were enough, apparently.
James, who loves Quidditch with his whole heart, is both relieved by this and also feels like
shit for it. He's at war with himself, because to lose it like that… He doesn't get violent like
that. Ever. Sure, he's been a brat in the past, was a bully as near back as two years ago before
he grew the fuck up, but he was never the one to beat someone. Not like that.

And yet, Mulciber still had no remorse. He'd been practically bragging when he assumed
Regulus was fucking dead, then seemed sullen when he found out that Regulus had survived.
It had made James want to beat him again, even worse.

Regulus, Barty, Avery, and Wilkes will also apparently be seeing punishment for their parts in
the incident, Dumbledore had been sure to let them know. Detentions and removed
Hogsmeade privileges as well for the endangerment of fellow students. The meeting had
lasted for hours, partially because Mulciber Snr had been a fucking git to the point that
Monty was arguing with him. It got bad when Effie argued with him, and then James had
thought his mum was going to get into a duel with Mulciber Snr right there in the
Headmaster's office.

James is so, so tired. Just simply exhausted. Drained. He feels hollowed out and over-full at
the same time. Trapped between the relief of Regulus being alive and the gasping, clawing
panic that he nearly wasn't. It was so close. Too close.

"I'm sorry," James chokes out as he pulls back to stare at his mum through a thick layer of
tears. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what—I've never done that. I didn't mean to, Mum."

"James," Effie starts carefully.

"I swear I didn't mean to. I don't even—I can't even remember what I did," James admits in a
low whine. "I just—it was like I just went away, and then I came back, and—and he was—he
was there on the floor, and if not for Remus—if someone hadn't stopped me, what if I never
came back, what if I—"

Effie reaches out and cups his face, shushing him as the tears spill over. "Hush now, James.
Breathe. You were—it was a very traumatic situation, do you understand? No, we don't
condone such violence, and you know that. For all that you've done, lovely and childish alike,
you've always known that."

"And it's someone you care about, son," Monty adds quietly, reaching out to squeeze James'
shoulder. "Your boyfriend, we hear. That's a new development we weren't expecting."

"It's—I—yeah, it's complicated," James says weakly, sniffling, and the last thing he wants to
do is get into all of that now.

Monty gives him a small smile. "Love tends to be at times, but the way one loves is very
straightforward. For you, I've found, you've always done so fiercely. When you care about
someone, there's no place you wouldn't go for them, and in this case, you went somewhere
even you couldn't find yourself." He shakes his head. "Grief-stricken, as I understand it. You
thought he was dead, James, and the person who was at fault for it was within reach. The best
of men have done worse for less."

"You'll talk to us," Effie tells him firmly, gripping his chin to make him look her in the eyes.
"I mean it, James. You'll write to us about what you're feeling, and you'll let us help in any
way that we can. We love you. We worry for you."

"I'm sorry," James says yet again. "I—I didn't even know that I could—I just didn't see it
coming. This wasn't supposed to happen. That's what it feels like, Mum. Like it's wrong. Like
it's something from—from some other world we should have never known about. It was
never supposed to happen."

"These things are never supposed to happen, not in any world, and they happen anyway. It's
awful. It's not fair. We don't get a choice in the matter," Effie murmurs sadly. "We can only
move forward, but sweetheart, don't run from the impact of it. It's alright to be scared. It's
alright to struggle with it."

James swallows. "I just think—I mean, what if it's my fault? Things have gotten worse for
Regulus since we started dating, and what if—what if that's why this happened? We snogged
in the hall before. What if I'm the one who endangered him? How am I supposed to live with
that?"
"You're public with your relationship?" Monty asks curiously.

"Yeah," James whispers, "and I'm starting to think I was very ignorant to the dangers of such
a thing. He said it, you know, and I just thought—I really, really believed that I wouldn't let
anything happen to him. And then—and then this, and I didn't even—I couldn't—"

"What does Regulus think about it?" Monty cuts in, squeezing James' shoulder like he's
grounding him, and it calms him.

"He wasn't ignorant. He was never ignorant to it; he knew before we even—" James closes
his eyes, a wash of pure solace crashing in over him. "But he made the decision to do it. He
made the choice. He was—something already happened, and he wasn't hurt, but it made me
see that things aren't fair. I suggested then that we stop, but it's both too late at this point and
also—it's like he...wants to, I think. He has his reasons; he's a bit secretive about some things,
so I don't know them all, but I think a part of him wants to make a difference. Or a part of
him appreciates that he has, because he has, Dad. You would be so proud of him; he's
inspired people, you know. Made them feel—safe and accepted and hopeful. It's just—it's
different for him than it is me, and I don't know why."

"I'd say it's because you're beloved by many," Effie informs him slowly, thoughtfully. "A
person's status in the social workings of the Hogwarts student body can have a bigger effect
than you'd think." She glances sheepishly over at Monty, who arches an eyebrow at her, his
eyes flashing with visible amusement. She clears her throat. "That is to say, Regulus is
secretive, just as you said, so he doesn't allow very many people to—to see him. He's
beloved, I'm sure of it, but not by the masses. The shifting winds of public opinion will target
him over you every time, and it's best to remember that."

"But," Monty continues, "it's not fair for you to make his choices for him. I know you're
tempted to break it off with him for his safety, because you are so like your lovely mother at
times, but that would only make things worse for him if that's not what he wants. In times of
strife, remaining together and leaning on one another is always preferable to pushing each
other away. It would hurt him if you did that, James."

"I don't even know if—if that's what it was about," James admits wearily, torn in two
different directions. He just keeps thinking about Regulus' stern gaze when he said no, James.
We're in this now. I'm in it now. It's his right; that's what he said. And James doesn't want to
take that from him, but he's scared. He's so scared. He keeps seeing Regulus sprawled on the
ground, lips blue, not breathing.

"I think you'll feel better once you talk to him," Effie murmurs. "I found that I wished I had
talked to your father before I made some of my admittedly reckless decisions in our youth."

Monty snorts. "I wished you had talked to me as well."

"Don't you start, Flea," Effie mutters, like she does the rare times she's grumbling at him,
which always makes him break out into a grin, even now. It's usually just Monty, or
Fleamont, but Flea is a name she used for him when she used to mock him in school; he
finds it amusing now. No wonder James fell in love with Lily. "Listen to me, James, if you
listen to nothing else we've ever told you, hear me when I say that talking and listening to
your love is the most important part of being with them. Past intimacy and passion, past
fondness and devotion, it is communication that keeps you close together."

"I want to talk to him," James admits, choked up all over again as his eyes sting. "I want to,
but he's—he's—"

"He's healing, sweetheart," Effie says gently. "He'll wake up soon. Go see him tomorrow. I
think it would be good for you."

"Where are you going?" James whispers, glancing between them. "You didn't floo back
home."

"We're going to visit Regulus tonight," Monty tells him, taking a deep breath. "He is under
our care, James. We worry for him as well. To just see him and know that he's resting is
enough, though I suspect we'll stay until he wakes up, so perhaps until morning. I'm not sure
we'd feel alright otherwise."

Effie chuckles and steps back to lay her hand on Monty's arm, her face softening. "Your
father is distressed, if you couldn't tell. He favors Regulus."
"Merlin, don't tell Sirius," James jokes weakly.

"I love all of you equally," Monty says, then after a beat, he continues, "but Regulus is my
favorite, yes."

James releases a hoarse laugh. "Dad, you're not supposed to tell anyone that, especially not
your son."

"Oh, I'm only teasing," Monty tells him warmly, lifting his hand off of James' shoulder to
ruffle his hair. "Godric, son, when will you start using Sleekeazy's? You don't even have to
buy it, for Merlin's sake; you get it for free."

"I love you dearly, Dad, I do," James mumbles, "but I let my hair be as wild and free as me.
Sirius appreciates the free product that you send him, though. Many of my friends do. Well,
not Lily, seeing as it has that odd effect on redheads; it turned her hair green and made some
of the strands dance around and fight each other, you know. It was brilliant."

"Still can't work out why that happens," Monty admits, troubled, a wrinkle between his
eyebrows. Effie and James share a fond look, rolling their eyes, and Monty shakes his head
with a sigh. "Yes, well, it's your hair; do as you like."

"Do you reckon Regulus uses any?" James muses, his gaze drifting to the side as he thinks
about it. He wishes he knew. He wishes he knew everything about Regulus. "His hair is so
soft, you know. So soft…"

"Oh, sweetheart," Effie says, stifling a laugh, and when he blinks and glances back at his
parents, they're both looking at him in a mixture of amusement and something bearing a close
resemblance to fond pity.

Monty's lips twitch. "Go get some rest, James. You've had a long, fraught day. Sleep may
ease your mind."
If I can, James thinks, but he doesn't argue. He just nods and lets his parents hug him before
they split off in different directions. He's not that far from the common room, but he
appreciates the solitude of the trip back, his steps echoing quietly off the stone walls. If he
thinks hard enough, he can recall the loud thud of his Mulciber's back against it, and then his
own, but nothing in between. No matter how hard he tries, he can't remember what he did; he
can only remember that he was angry enough, and devastated enough, to do it.

When James makes it into the common room, it's quiet in a way it's usually not. A solemn
quiet. Full of whispers as people crowd close together and talk, not daring to raise their
voices, like the subject is too heavy to lift to a higher volume. People fall silent when they
notice him, and he's struck by the amount of those that are looking at him in sympathy, with
pity, as if he's the one who has suffered today.

James knows, realistically, that it's likely all over the castle by now that Regulus nearly died.
Mulciber was expelled and escorted out of the castle by aurors and his father, so his
involvement isn't a secret either, even if not everyone knows the details. Some people even
saw Regulus be rescued from the lake and rushed off to the infirmary. No one knows James
beat Mulciber, because no one was there to see it, and James doesn't doubt that those that
were there to see it wouldn't breathe a word of it for any reason.

So, this is just people looking at James in sadness because his boyfriend almost fucking died.
Nevermind that it's Regulus who nearly drowned. Nevermind that it's Regulus who has
suffered, and it's all their fault; the rest of this stupid fucking school and the stupid fucking
people who think that he's someone to target because of his preferences, and because he
doesn't have the benefit of being James Potter.

"No, go on," James snaps, making multiple people in the room jump and fall silent, staring at
him with wide eyes. In the corner, Remus and Peter whip around, turning away from Lily,
Mary, and Marlene. "You all seemed so bloody content to carry on before I showed up; don't
let me stop you. What were you talking about? You all love to talk, don't you?"

"James," Marlene says warily, standing up quickly.

"If it's not one thing in this school, it's another. I've never seen a more ignorant group of
fucking people in my life, and the worst part is that I'm a part of it," James continues, an edge
to his voice. "Has anyone ever, even once, considered minding their business? Shutting up
about things you're not involved in? No? What about leaving people to their own lives? Has
that ever occurred to anyone? Who gives a toss if Regulus fancies blokes? So do I! Oh, don't
forget that part. You're all choosing to ignore it, but no, you don't get to ignore it. If you have
a fucking problem with queer people, then you have a problem with me. So, speak up. Go on,
speak up, don't be shy!"

No one says anything. No one even seems to breathe.

"Brilliant," James snarls. "Thanks for the fucking support. Fat lot of good that's done for us.
Try being outwardly supportive next time, or just mind your own bloody business. What
happened to Regulus, and what he does in his life, is none of your concern, so shut the fuck
up about it."

"James," Lily says softly, her eyebrows furrowed, "I know you're upset, but—"

"Piss off, Evans," James bites out, barely even paying attention as he marches his way off to
the dorm, too wrapped up in how furious he is to care about how rude he was. He'll apologize
for it when he doesn't feel like he's about to rip out of his skin.

He bangs his way into the dorm and slams the door behind him, moving over to brace his
hand against one of his bed posts, snatching his glasses off and hanging his head forward. He
breathes and presses the back of his wrist against his right eye, his glasses hanging from his
mostly slack fingers. It feels like all the fight has drained right out of him.

The door creaks open a few moments later, and James exhales to try and dispel the tension
that immediately tightens his shoulders. He puts his glasses back on and composes himself as
much as he can, turning around with a quiet sigh and forced smile, aiming for sheepish and
apologetic and only managing something wobbly. He's trying, though. He always is.

Peter and Remus are quiet as they slip in and look at him for a beat, then exchange a quick
look before moving forward to sit down on the bed across from him.

"Sorry," James mumbles, "that was—"

"Don't apologize," Remus cuts in firmly. "Don't you dare. All that was… Well, you weren't
wrong, in any case."

James heaves a sigh, his shoulders slumping, and he sinks down to sit on his bed, wearily
rubbing his hand over his hair. He closes his eyes again. "Where's Sirius?"

"Hospital Wing," Peter murmurs. "He refused to leave. Told Madame Pomfrey she'd have to
kill him to keep him out, at least until he sees Regulus wake up with his own eyes. I don't
think he was joking, and she seemed to realize it too, so she gave in and left him to it."

"Yeah? That's—that's good," James says softly. "My parents are going there, so he'll get to
see them. Probably for the best."

Remus winces. "How much trouble are you in?"

"Detentions until the end of term, and I can't go to Hogsmeade, same as Regulus, Barty,
Avery, and Wilkes. I reckon I got off light," James tells them, glancing down at his knees in
shame. "Mulciber did as well, in any case."

"James," Peter says carefully, "you shouldn't be upset with yourself for having a go at
Mulciber, mate. We all wanted to. Merlin knows Sirius probably would have killed him."

"Dorcas said I was trying to," James croaks, looking up to stare at them. "Was I?"

"You don't—you don't remember?" Remus asks.

James swallows and shakes his head. "I can't remember. The last thing I recall is slamming
him against the wall, and then I remember you knocking me back off him, and that's it. I don't
know what happened between. It's just—blank."
"You, ah…" Peter clears his throat. "Well, you—you just lost it, really. Started hitting him,
then wouldn't stop. Mulciber… Um, at one point, he started—he sort of begged you to stop,
and you just...told him no. You sounded so calm. You said no, lifted him off his feet and
slammed him to the floor, then just kept right on going. I think—I think at that point, we were
all trying to call you off, but you weren't listening, and then… Well, Remus handled it."

"Sounds like someone had to," James chokes out, lifting his hands to cover his face.

"Oh, mate, I know," Remus says softly, leaning forward to peel James' hands down, meeting
his eyes. "I know what it feels like to—to wake up and not know what you've done, and be
afraid of what you've done. It's a scary thing, isn't it?"

James thinks, maybe, that he has even just a piece of an idea of what fear seems to grip
Remus after every full moon. It's not the same, not even close, but he thinks he's closer to
understanding than he ever was before. It is a scary thing, and it's awful that Remus has to
suffer that so consistently.

It's unfair that James will be able to work on it, learn to adapt to it, do his best to never let it
happen again, so he'll never have to feel like this again—but Remus can't do that. Remus
doesn't get that chance. It's one of the most tragic things that James can think of.

"It's so scary. I'm so sorry," James whispers, his eyes welling up, and Remus' face softens. He
scoots forward off the bed to tug James into a hug, which goes to show just how bad off
James is at the moment, because Remus isn't one to go round initiating hugs, for all that his
hugs are so very comforting.

"Get over here, Peter, we're coddling James," Remus mutters, and a moment later, Peter is
holding on, too.

James can't help it. He ducks his head forward and starts crying again, quietly, almost
shamefully. He's never wept like this in front of any of his friends; they've all wept to him
before, though. Peter makes a low, sad sound and tightens his arms around them, and Remus
squeezes the back of his neck.
"I thought Regulus was dead," James gasps out. "He wasn't breathing when they pulled him
out, and I thought—I really thought—"

"He's not. He's alive. He's breathing," Peter assures him.

"It would have been my fault," James rasps. "It would have have my fault if—"

Remus pushes him back sharply, breaking the small huddle to stare at him with a frown.
"What? No, that's not true. It wouldn't have been your fault. None of it was your fault."

"If I hadn't come up with this stupid plan, we would have never pretended to date in public,
and then—"

"What? What? No, James, that's not even what any of it was about. We talked to Barty, got
the full story, and it didn't even have anything to do with Regulus at first. Barty bumped into
Mulciber, they started mouthing off to each other, and things escalated. I mean, I don't doubt
that some of their dislike for Regulus is because he's gay, and that's wrong, but that's not what
started the fight. Barty said it didn't help that Regulus kept, um, traumatizing them by
popping into the lake—those were his exact words, and he sounded proud, so… Well, I don't
know what that's all about. Slytherins are ruthless sometimes."

"I don't care if he did it first," James mumbles, sounding a bit petulant to his own ears. "He
wouldn't let them die."

Peter opens his mouth, hesitating, and then he coughs and says, "Ah, are you...sure about
that, Prongs?"

"Well, did he let them die?" James challenges. "He just...pretended he would, is all."

"James," Remus says, eyebrows raised.

"What?" James mutters, averting his eyes. "Look, you don't know him like I do, alright? I
know—trust me, I know he seems mean and cruel at times, but he's actually so…" James
bites his lip. "He's more than that. He can be so gentle when he wants to be, and sincere, and
so fucking self-aware; you have no idea. And he can't even watch Zar eat mice; he told me,
so how could he stomach killing an actual person?"

"Who the fuck is Zar, and why are they eating mice?" Peter sputters, looking horrified.

James blinks. "Oh. Oh, yeah, Zar is their pet snake. They named him Salazar, but call him
Zar. Pandora apparently feeds him, so be careful when you're out and about as Wormtail if
you see her. Anyway, Regulus talks about him sometimes."

"They have a pet snake," Remus says flatly. "Of course they do. That's just...such a cliche."

"Yeah, but it's sort of cute," James replies.

"I'm going to have to disagree with you on this one. It eats rats," Peter declares with a
shudder.

"My point is," James continues, "Regulus is more than he seems like, so—so don't go
suggesting he's not."

Remus nods slowly. "Of course not, mate. That's not really what we meant anyway. No one—
James, no one has a problem with Regulus, alright? What happened was—it was—"

"I'm tired," James cuts in, and they stare at him. He drops his gaze. "I just don't want to talk
about it, yeah? Not tonight. I get to visit him tomorrow, so I'd like to get to tomorrow sooner
rather than later. Can we just—be done with today?"

"Consider today done," Remus says softly, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder before he
stands up. "Get some rest, then. Come on, Pete."
 "Goodnight, James," Peter murmurs, looking at him sadly.

"Night," is James' subdued response, and then he slips into bed, closes the curtains, and
doesn't sleep at all.

Chapter End Notes

for those of you coming to the end notes for a more in-depth description of the
warnings, as well as reassurance, let me first start off by saying that regulus does not die.
he does, however, go into the lake and try to drown himself under the influence of an
imperio; sirius and james jump in after him, but they're pulled out before they find him.
regulus is saved, but he's unconscious and not breathing, so james briefly fears that he's
dead. due to this, he has the passing thought that he'll go drown himself too (he's in
shock). mulciber is brought where they are, and he basically mocks everyone for regulus
being dead. james basically blacks out and beats him unconscious; it's not explicitly
shown, but peter later describes what happened, and the aftermath of what mulciber
looks like is explicitly shown (bruised and bloody and missing a tooth). this obviously
shocks many people, including james, and it upsets him. james cries a few different
times within this chapter, but is comforted.

for those of you who have finished the chapter...

well, that was a doozy, huh?

rest assured, the whole traumatic situation will not just be skirted past and looked over.
also, effie and monty my beloveds <3 i don't think i can write a marauders fic without
them, to be honest.

most heartbreaking things for me, personally, in this chapter: 1. regulus telling sirius he's
going to drown himself in the lake, and sirius laughing it off thinking he's being
dramatic (to be fair, regulus would), because sirius is going to be so upset about this. 2.
sirius diving in immediately after regulus even though he can't swim and chanting that
regulus is his brother and pleading that he be saved. 3. remus understanding
immediately why james is scared because he can't remember what he did, because he
deals with that every month. 4. dorcas being a fucking WRECK throughout all of this.

positives: 1. effie and monty! they're being the best parents, as always! 2. sirius getting
to stay in the hospital wing with regulus. 3. james "im queer and ill fight anyone who
says different" potter being ready to throw hands for queer people everywhere. 4. remus
and peter being good friends (and dorcas, evan, and pandora as well)

so, how are we feeling?

 ACT THREE: Part Two
Chapter Notes

hello, hello!!! here we are, and it's time for some of the lovely comfort part of
hurt/comfort!!!

warnings for this chapter: a little bit of crying, some references to drowning, plenty of
hurt/comfort, some brother bonding, some friends being good friends, some deep
conversations, and a little bit of heated kissing (nothing too spicy)!

enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"—should have known, Effie. He even said it. He said it, and I laughed and kept walking,
because I thought—I just thought he was being a dramatic prat, but he—he—"

"Darling, you can't blame yourself. You couldn't have known."

"He literally told me."

Regulus drags his eyes open with a grimace, squinting as he blinks once, twice, a third time.
Ow, he thinks, his very first thought, because ow, things hurt. His head hurts a bit, and so
does his whole body, but in that remembered-ache sort of way that comes after a particularly
grueling Quidditch match, a soreness that almost feels good at the same time. The same
cannot be said for his head, which feels full of wool, so full that his temples throb.

Slowly, he pushes himself up on his elbows, blinking at the sight of Effie, Monty, and Sirius
all lingering at the foot of his bed, only visible due to the candlelight and soft glow from the
end of each of their wands. It's dark otherwise, night-time, and Regulus wonders how all of
them got into his dorm.

He clears his throat to ask, which causes all three of their heads to whip towards him, and he
blinks again in mild surprise at the expressions on their faces. He sits up more firmly in just
enough time for Sirius to swing around the bed and nearly knock him over hugging him.
Regulus catches himself with one hand, his other raising to hold the back of Sirius' shoulder
in pure bewilderment.

"Fucking hell, Regulus," Sirius hisses, squeezing him so hard that it pushes the air from his
lungs.

"I—ah, oh, we're hugging. Why are we doing that? Something dreadful must have
happened," Regulus mutters, still startled enough that he's not immediately shoving Sirius
away. It seems like Sirius needs it, in any case, because Regulus can feel the tension cranking
out his body by the second.

And then it comes right back as he pushes away, staring at Regulus with furrowed eyebrows.
"You don't remember?"

"Remember wh—" Regulus cuts himself off, because the moment he tries to search for what
he's apparently forgotten, he recalls what happened. Mulciber. Barty. Avery. Wilkes. Snape.
The fight, then the imperius curse.

"Reg?" Sirius says quietly.

Regulus whips the covers aside and starts trying to get out of the bed, hissing, "Oh, I'm going
to fucking kill him."

"I'm going to have to ask you to not, dear," Effie cuts in, sweeping forward to calmly touch
his shoulder, which is the only reason he plants himself back down on the edge of the bed. He
frowns at her. "If you mean Mulciber Jr, then you'd have little luck in that endeavor anyway.
He's been expelled."

"So, they saved his life," Regulus bites out.

Sirius snorts. "Pretty much. Wouldn't have survived the rest of the year here otherwise."
"How long has it been?" Regulus asks shortly.

"It's the middle of the night now, closer to morning than the previous evening," Monty
informs him, moving forward to smile at him warmly. "It's good to see you awake
and...alert."

Regulus blinks, looking between Monty and Effie. "What are you doing here?"

"Merlin, Reggie, could you be more rude?" Sirius mutters.

"Sorry," Regulus says reflexively, because he truly does like Effie and Monty quite a bit. "It's
lovely to see you both, but I just meant—well, no offense, but they wouldn't have summoned
you for me."

"I think they would have, actually," Monty says, looking at him in amusement. "You and
Sirius are in our care, Regulus. In a situation such as this, I believe we would have been
notified anyway. But, ah, well… There was a small matter with James as well, so they
summoned us for that first while you rested."

"James?" Regulus asks, narrowing his eyes.

Effie smiles at him. "He's—fine. Mostly. No one hurt him, if that's what you're worried about.
He'll tell you all about it when he visits, I'm sure."

"Oh, I'll tell you," Sirius says with a grin. "You should have seen it. James fucking—"

"Ahem," Effie interrupts, reaching out to gently swat Sirius over the back of his head, and he
pouts at her. "There are some things that couples need to talk about between themselves."
"Oh, they're not dating," Sirius says.

Monty clicks his tongue. "Now, Sirius, you may not like that your best mate and little brother
are dating, but there is no honor in standing between love, and with all the controversy that
they have to face, your support is imperative."

Sirius sputters, his mouth hanging open, and Regulus releases a soft laugh, because it's clear
that Sirius is not seen as a reliable source on this subject, and Regulus isn't about to clear
things up with James' parents if he hasn't. And it's—it's nice, really, that they're being so
accepting about it, treating it as if it's normal. There's no agitation that their son—their only
pureblood son—is with a bloke, as far as they know, and might not provide children for the
family, as if James' happiness (and Regulus', as well as Sirius') is the most important thing.

"We wanted to check on you, check with you," Effie tells him, meeting his eyes. "What
you've just gone through is… It's the indescribable, Regulus, but if you wish to talk—"

"Thank you," Regulus cuts in quietly, "but no. I'm fine."

Effie is silent for a long beat, then she looks at Monty, who looks back, and then she's
reaching out to put her hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Take a stroll with me, darling."

Sirius glances at Regulus, hesitating, but he inevitably gives into Effie's request. He'd do
anything she asked of him, Regulus is sure. Much the same as himself with Monty, honestly.
Of course, Regulus likes Effie and appreciates everything she's done for him since she and
Monty took him into their home and under their care, but it's Monty that Regulus has gotten
close to. All those hours spent working on potions with him over the summer.

Like his son, Monty is ridiculously easy to talk to. He's effortlessly funny, and there's a
warmth to him, a seamless pride that he could offer up endlessly every time Regulus did
something right. Regulus, who never really got pride from his father (but certainly from his
mother), had bloomed helplessly under the praise. All of Regulus' connection to anything
even remotely paternal was his mother—or her brand of it, which he now knows was mostly
just drawing comparisons between himself and Sirius to point out all the ways Sirius was a
failure and disappointment, by her standards. Orion was never fond of either of his children,
so to have Monty talking to him, praising him, bonding with him—well, Regulus never stood
a chance, really. He'd do anything for Monty, probably.
Even talk, as much as he dreads it.

Monty moves over and sits down on the bed next to him with a quiet sigh. "Now, if you don't
want to talk, Regulus, that's very understandable, but don't claim that you're fine."

"But I am, though," Regulus mumbles.

"You were placed under the imperius curse and made to assault a close friend of yours and
then nearly drown yourself. Do you mean to tell me that this has no impact on you at all, not
even a bit?" Monty asks, glancing over at him. The candlelight dances over the lines of his
face, catching the silver hairs in his cropped beard.

Regulus looks down at his knees. "I just—I mean, it's not the first time I've been under that
curse. Sirius, too. Of course I'm not just alright with what happened, especially with Barty. Is
he—he's alright, isn't he? Someone would have said if he—"

"He's fine," Monty assures him. "He was healed up and released earlier, from what Sirius
said." There's a long pause, and then Monty sighs. "Your mother, I presume. The one who
placed you and Sirius under the curse."

"When we were children, being too loud," Regulus murmurs, swinging his feet over the side
of the bed. "I think she didn't much want to deal with us, so she'd send us off to our rooms,
make us take naps, or just read books and leave her be. Seems innocent compared to some of
the other things she has done, but it's—well, Sirius always hated it. He could almost always
throw it off by the time he was thirteen. I never quite learned how to. Don't have the will for
it, I suppose."

"I've felt it, you know," Monty murmurs. "Just once. I was twenty-seven, and it was a mate,
done for an experiment with magical theory and potions. It was a safe environment, and he
didn't make me do anything we hadn't talked about beforehand. Just made me touch my nose,
jump on a chair, and recite a nursery rhyme. And yet, when it was over, I could hardly look at
him the same after that, because halfway through, I wanted to stop. I decided I didn't like it
and wanted to resist, and I couldn't. Not his fault, really, as I consented beforehand and it was
my idea to start with, and there was no way I could tell him…but that didn't matter. Because
it's not a good feeling, Regulus, and I'm sorry you know that."

"Are you still friends?"

"Oh, we've stayed in contact after all these years. He's a good man, possibly one of the most
gentle I've ever met. The wariness faded after a time, after I spoke to him about it, especially.
The thing is, magic can be dangerous and traumatizing, and no one really talks about it
because it's our reality and what we're used to. But I learned that pretending something awful
hasn't happened, when it has, doesn't do very much to help us heal."

"What do you suggest, then?" Regulus asks softly. "Shall I go to Mulciber and tell him that I
want to crush his windpipe under the heel of my shoe for what he did?"

"Perhaps you could write it in a letter, then burn it. I wrote many letters to my friend that I
never sent, and it helped. I'd also suggest talking with your friend—Barty, isn't it? I'm sure he
doesn't blame you, but the confirmation would likely help all the same, and he was the one
who was there for it all. Talk with Sirius, who has also been under the curse; let him comfort
you, if no one else. Talk to James, and your friends, and a trusted Professor. Just don't let it sit
harsh in your chest, my dear boy, when there are so many people eager to help you hold the
weight of it," Monty tells him. "And, most importantly, don't rush yourself past it. Take your
time."

Regulus pokes the floor with his toes, swallowing past a lump in his throat. "My parents sent
me a Howler, you know. I talked with Sirius about it a bit, then avoided everyone else for a
few days, so they'd take the hint and not bring it up. I think I rushed past that, too."

"I'm sorry," Monty says. "You didn't deserve that."

"I think I've outdone Sirius, at this point," Regulus mutters with a low chuckle. "I didn't just
befriend James Potter; no, I went on and proclaimed him my lover. Merlin, there's no coming
back from that."

Monty is silent for a beat, then he says, "Would you want to?"
"No," Regulus whispers. "Sometimes it still feels wrong, though. It's just unfair." He clears
his throat. "It's like, if it was James, he'd be praised for everything I was trying to do with my
own family. Be a good son, be loyal, be—worthy. He'd be praised for it because his family is
good. But me? My family isn't, so I was in the wrong."

"Regulus," Monty says gently, "you are but a child—"

"I'm seventeen. You and Effie sent me a gift for my birthday."

"We did, and my statement still stands. You are but a child, and the fault lies on your parents
for all the wrong that goes on in that house. They've built a home on that, an unstable one that
you and Sirius should not have suffered at the hands of. You are not wrong for wanting to be
a good son; it's the beliefs and actions that are required of a good son in that family that's
wrong. You have no such requirements in our house; all we ask of you—all of you—is to live
and love and learn and grow, and you are. All of you are, and we are so proud."

"I don't want to go back," Regulus chokes out, his eyes stinging. "It just hurts that I couldn't,
if I did."

Monty reaches over and touches his arm carefully, a question, and Regulus leans over into his
side, one hand coming up to cover his eyes. "I know. It's alright. I know."

"I—I can still remember the taste of the water," Regulus gasps out, shuddering, and he
doesn't know what he's crying about anymore, or what he's struggling with at the moment.

Being queer. Being disowned. Being forced to drown.

All of it, maybe, and more.

Regulus can remember it, despite the foggy quality over the memories. The sting of the water
in his nose, the rush of it as his head dunked under the surface, and the curse had felt like
phantom hands dragging him further into the depths. He couldn't breathe, and he wanted to
find a source of air, but he was just pulled down. He kept swimming down, and he doesn't
even know how to fucking swim.

He remembers that, when the dark started to seep in, that one lucid part of his mind had been
relieved. Because it hurt. Because he was scared. Because he just wanted all of it to stop, and
he was so tired, and he couldn't fight. But he wanted to. He wanted so badly to swim up, to
make it back to the surface, because it was there, in that relief, that he found he was so
terribly devastated by the thought of dying.

He remembers before that, when he was walking past Sirius and found his mouth moving to
tell him exactly what he was about to do, and for a moment, he'd waited for his brother to
save him from his fate. Sirius had laughed and called him a prick, then let him go. The sad
part is, Regulus wasn't angry; he was just upset that he wouldn't even get to say goodbye.

He remembers, right at the end, thinking of James. Just his name. A small whisper in his
mind. In the daze of the curse and the pain, he couldn't remember what their last kiss was
like, what the last thing Regulus said to him was, and nothing had seemed so tragic to him,
not even his approaching death.

And that was all. James, he'd thought, and then all the pain stopped. James, he'd thought, and
then he slipped away.

"Oh, you are so terribly young," Monty murmurs gently, sounding heartbroken as he holds
onto him, because he is holding onto him now.

"I'm fine," Regulus insists, which is rather ridiculous of him, considering the fact that he's
still crying so very hard about so very many things.

"You will be, Regulus," Monty says. "You will be."

Regulus hates crying. He refuses to, usually, a decision he made around the time he was
twelve, and one he kept to quite well through the years with only a few exceptions. It seems
that all the times he didn't let himself cry has caught up with him now, because in the arms of
a man who has made him feel safer than his own father ever did, he cries like he's been
waiting for years to do it. In a way, it feels good.

The tears ease eventually, though. All good things come to an end, even the hated ones. He
feels really quite tired afterwards. His head hurts worse, and he's sleepy like a small child.

"I think I should rest some more," Regulus croaks, saying it partially out of embarrassment
and partially because it's true.

"Yes, I think so. Allow me to get Effie and Sirius. She'll want to say goodbye before we go,
and I suspect he'll stay until morning," Monty tells him as he draws away. He reaches up and
ruffles Regulus' hair gently, then chuckles. "Ah, he was right. James thinks your hair is soft,
you know. He said so."

"Does it bother you?" Regulus can't help but ask.

"What?"

"That he and I are—ah, dating."

"Mm, not at all. There's a lot of living, loving, learning, and growing you two could do
together, and if that's what you both want to do, then Effie and I support you entirely. I might
be biased, but I think you could do worse," Monty teases.

Regulus laughs weakly, dragging his hand across his cheeks, and he gives a nod as Monty
stands. "I know that. Do you reckon he could do better?"

"No," Monty muses, "I don't."

"Yeah, you're biased."

"Or a good judge of character. In any case, James has backed himself into something of a
corner with this one. If you two ever don't work out and he brings someone else round, I'm
afraid they'll never measure up to you."

"I rather selfishly appreciate that."

"I'm glad I've said it, then."

"Monty," Regulus murmurs.

Monty turns back to face him. "Yes?"

"Thank you," Regulus says softly, sincerely.

"Of course," Monty replies, giving him a warm smile, pride tucked away quietly in the gleam
of his eyes in the candlelight.

Regulus sinks back against the bed, composing himself as much as he's able, just closing his
eyes and breathing. It doesn't take very long for Monty to return with Sirius and Effie, who
promptly sweeps over to grab his hand and gently request that he write them if he ever feels
the need, or simply for their peace of mind. He has sent them a few letters since the start of
term, altogether short and polite, because they've sent letters to him as they do Sirius and
James.

Effie talks to him for a bit, then squeezes his hand, waiting for him to squeeze back before
she pulls away. Just a quiet thing they do. They've done it since the night he arrived at their
home; he was so shaken up that he'd taken comfort from her holding his hand, from the
gentle pressure they traded back and forth, like a reminder that they were real, alive, and
okay.

Monty and Effie say their goodbyes after that, Effie giving Sirius yet another hug he always
seems eager for. Although, considering his issues surrounding Walburga, that's fair. Regulus
would hardly have the room to judge him, seeing as he was crying all over Monty before.
Nonetheless, Regulus rolls his eyes a bit and does judge him, because Sirius is his brother,
that's what they do, and it's his right.

After they're gone, Sirius sits down on the edge of Regulus' bed, his knee propped beside
Regulus' leg. He doesn't say anything or seem capable of looking Regulus in the eyes.

"You don't have to stay, you know," Regulus says. "You can go back to your dorm and get
some rest, at least."

"I dove in after you," is Sirius' very abrupt reply.

Regulus blinks. "You can't swim."

"I know. Didn't do much good."

"Did you actually?"

"Yeah," Sirius confirms. "James too, right after me."

"Of course you two did," Regulus mutters with a huff, rolling his eyes. "Idiots."

Sirius looks up and swallows. "Do you—do you remember—"

"Yes," Regulus cuts in, holding his gaze.

"So, you remember…"

"Yes."

"Regulus—"

"I'm not—Sirius, I'm not upset with you about it."

"But you told me," Sirius rasps. "You said it. You told me, and I just laughed and let you go. I
thought it was a joke, like you were just being snarky, but I should have—"

Regulus sighs and shakes his head. "Shut up, yeah? How were you to know I was bewitched?
You were across the hall and heading somewhere, hardly even paying attention, and it's not
like I wouldn't say something like that over some stupid minor inconvenience. If you think I
won't be using it now at every available opportunity, you're mental. I drop my quill? Ah,
great, now I have to go drown myself in the lake. I stub my toe? Lovely, I'm going to drown
myself in the lake now. You say something stupid? I'll go drown myself in the lake to free
myself from your nonsense."

"Don't joke about it," Sirius mumbles. "You weren't there. You don't know how bad—"

"Oh, I wasn't there?" Regulus interrupts, amused.

Sirius snaps his mouth shut, then huffs. "You know what I bloody well meant. You weren't
conscious. It was fucking awful, alright? And you must have—I know how the curse feels,
and how it works. When you said it, and I did nothing, some part of you must have been
upset with me."
"No, not really," Regulus admits. "I mean, I wanted—I won't lie, Sirius, I wanted you to—to
help, but it's… I knew, even then, that it wasn't your fault. It wasn't. We agreed, didn't we,
when we were younger? We had a deal; no blaming each other for the things we did under
the curse."

"But I wasn't under the curse. I should have noticed."

"Why?"

"Because you're my brother."

"I wasn't aware that this granted you the ability to read my mind and become instantly aware
of all my ails. Merlin, Sirius, do you think I would have noticed if it was you? I probably
would have told you good riddance and kept walking. So, can you just—not? Just don't."

"Why aren't you angry at me?" Sirius asks, his shoulders slumping. "You love being angry at
me."

"I'm tired of being angry at you," Regulus corrects quietly, and Sirius looks at him, eyebrows
furrowed. "I don't want to be angry at you anymore. If you ever tell anyone this, I'll drown
you in the lake, but sometimes it's nice to just—be alright with each other, do you know what
I mean? And—and I like that our parents hate it, too, to be fair. That's a strong motivator."

"You're so spiteful, Reggie," Sirius says, lips twitching.

Regulus hums. "You're as bad as I am."

"Can be, yeah," Sirius admits. He sighs. "I do know what you mean, though. We should talk
more."

"Sirius, we talk more now than we ever have."

"We do, don't we? I think the guilt's getting to me."

"Well, get over it," Regulus says blandly, "or I'll drown myself in the lake."

Sirius frowns at him. "Too soon, Reg."

"That one wasn't a joke."

"Regulus."

"Alright, alright," Regulus relents, huffing out a quiet laugh as he nudges Sirius' hip, pushing
him up. "Go away now, I'm tired. Go back to your dorm."

"I told Madame Pomfrey I'm taking one of the beds," Sirius declares as he stands and
marches over to the one directly next to Regulus', tossing himself on it with a groan. "Snuff
the candle, would you?"

Regulus does, propping up to purse his lips in a soft circle and blow, the room dipping into
further darkness, only lit up by the soft glow of the moon through the windows. He can only
just make out Sirius' head craning back to look at it.

"Is it a full?" Regulus murmurs.

"No," Sirius says, the word flying out instantly and with easy certainty that suggests he knew
before he ever looked at the moon at all. "It's beautiful, don't you think?"

"The moon?" Regulus asks.

"Yeah," Sirius murmurs.

Regulus hums pensively. "I suppose."

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Sirius says softly, gazing up at it like he'd reach
out and touch it if he could.

"Are you talking about the actual moon or Remus?" Regulus asks, then clamps his mouth
shut. Oh, bloody hell. Now why did he go and say that? Sirius is going to—

But all Sirius does is say, very quietly, his voice subdued and small and uncertain, "I don't
even know anymore."

"Right," Regulus replies. "Going to think about that at all?"

"I'd rather not, thank you," Sirius mutters, and if nothing else, Regulus knows all about what
that feels like.

So, Regulus just mumbles, "Alright, sure. That's fair."

"Night, Regulus."

"Goodnight, Sirius."

If there's one thing Regulus hates, it's missing something he was looking forward to—even
unknowingly. Was he aware that he would have liked to see James go mental and beat
Mulciber to a pulp? No, not at all. Is he furious that he missed it? Absolutely fucking livid.
"I want a pensive," Regulus states firmly, looking deeply into Pandora's eyes. "It's absolutely
necessary that I see it."

"Reg," Pandora says, visibly judging him.

"Think me a whore all you like," Regulus replies. "I need to see it. I might die if I never get
to see it."

Pandora heaves a sigh and leans back to drape herself over his legs, waving her fingers lazily
through the air. She has a drawing of a stream on her inner left arm, a fish swimming up and
down over her veins in spiky ink. Her big, clunky bracelets clack together as she drags her
fingers in loopy, nonsensical patterns, lips pursed in deep thought.

Regulus knows she thinks he's a whore. For this, he damn well will be, and without shame.
He should ask Dorcas; she would understand. Not Evan; while he would understand, he
would tease Regulus mercilessly. He can't ask Barty, who would be so supportive of this
spiral into desperate hedonism, spurred on by James beating Mulciber to a pulp, because
Barty was, sadly, not present at the time. Sad, because he would have enjoyed it, Regulus is
sure, no matter the sordid details.

Pandora has informed him that it was 'really quite disturbing, but also sort of satisfying',
which Regulus has taken to mean that he would very, very much like to see it. Pandora has
also said that she's never seen James so angry, and neither has his friends—if their reactions
were anything to go by—which Regulus has taken to mean that he fucking needs to see it.

He probably won't ever get to see it, and that's just not fair, really. He's convinced that it
would make his knees weak, and while he'd never encourage his knees to buckle for any man,
he would gladly get on his knees for James Potter. Everyone has their exception. James is
Regulus'.

Pandora has been catching him up on what he's missed, which is apparently more than he
thought. Effie was not here to swat Pandora on the back of her head (which is an odd mental
image, honestly) to stop her from telling Regulus what James had done, so he's been caught
up on that. He also got the full account of what happened when he was rescued, secondhand
from Pandora through Dorcas, as well as what all happened with Barty, secondhand from her
through Evan and Barty.

So, as it turns out, after Regulus was sent away, Barty was further mucked about with. Avery,
Mulciber, and Wilkes kept him bound, and then took a vial of Draught of Living Death that
Snape had brewed and forced a few drops on him, which is why it took a while to wake him
up. Snape apparently went to Slughorn about Regulus, informing him that he was likely
drowning and needed rescuing. By the time Slughorn started rushing to do just that, he'd
gotten summons from Madame Pomfrey about needing his help with Regulus, who had
already been rescued, as well as the Wiggenweld Potion to wake up Barty. Knowing that
Mulciber was the perpetrator, Slughorn dragged him along.

Meanwhile, Sirius, James, Remus, Peter, Dorcas, Pandora, and Evan were all waiting for an
update on the situation. Every single of them—excluding Pandora and Evan—had apparently
been there when Regulus was pulled out of the lake. Dorcas told Pandora who has now told
Regulus that, supposedly, Sirius had been a sobbing wreck, and James had cried, too. Regulus
isn't sure he believes all that nonsense, so he'll have to check with Dorcas for the full retelling
with proper details later.

Of course, once Mulciber came within a few feet of the rest, things got...bad. Pandora was
there for that, and she's just finished explaining everything that happened, including some
rather enticing details about James' bloody knuckles. Well, Regulus finds it enticing. Pandora
does not, but she has less issues than he does, so what does she know anyway?

"You almost drowned yesterday, Regulus. How have you found it within yourself to wake up
afterwards and immediately drool over James Potter?" Pandora asks him, lips twitching.

"It just sounds like it was—" Regulus presses his lips into a thin line and muffles a quiet
noise. Merlin, he so badly wants to see that fucking memory. "Pandora—"

"Yes, yes, alright. The moment you have a pensive, I will provide you with the memory,"
Pandora cuts in, exasperated.

Regulus leans forward to open his eyes and gaze down at her, reaching out to touch his
fingers to her inner wrist. The fish swims around them. "Thank you. You're a good friend to
me. In fact, I'd go as far as saying you're my favorite."
"I'm telling everyone else," Pandora declares immediately, her eyes lighting up as her face
splits into a grin. "I'm superior."

"You are," Regulus agrees, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth. He forgets sometimes how easy
it is to delight Pandora. She finds such marvel in the simplest of things, or perhaps beauty in
the things that others take for granted.

Pandora beams up at him and reaches out to tangle their fingers loosely together. "I'm glad
you're alright, Regulus. It was really—we were all distraught, you know."

"Oh, surely not. I'm certain you were all so eager to be rid of me. I'm imagining a collective
groan when the news that I survived was announced," Regulus says, amused.

"Dorcas cried," Pandora says flatly. "So did I. Evan very nearly came close, I think, and he
needed to sit down to catch his breath. There was no collective groan."

Regulus purses his lips. "That's embarrassing for all of you."

"Why can you never respond with any bit of sensitivity to delicate situations?" Pandora asks,
sounding fond.

"It's my delicate situation, isn't it? I'll be as insensitive as I like. Besides, if we can't laugh
about it, I might actually go mad. Don't I have enough in my life to be miserable about?"

"You know, that's fair. However you wish to cope, Reg."

"Go on, say something insensitive. It'll make me feel better."

"I don't really have anything insensitive to say, I think."

"You do." Regulus nudges her. "Go on. Give it a go."

Pandora rolls her eyes. "I don't. The only thing to come out of this situation at all is that you
most certainly need swimming lessons, and that's not insensitive; that's just true."

The curtain around Regulus' bed whips back with a flourish, revealing Dorcas, Evan, and
Barty, who says, "Goodness, Pandora, the poor man nearly drowned yesterday, and you're
carrying on about swimming lessons? Have some tact, would you?"

"And they say Slytherins are rude," Evan agrees.

"You could have held back, just a little," Dorcas says.

"Words hurt, you know," Regulus adds with a mock frown, and Pandora huffs and throws
both hands up. They all chuckle until it inevitably falls quiet, and then Regulus looks up at
Barty, who holds his gaze. "Alright?"

"Been better," Barty says with a shrug. "You?"

"Been worse," Regulus replies. "Sorry about your face."

"It's alright. I'm all pretty again; that's all that matters." Barty flashes a smile at him, despite
the way his eyes are tired. They will have to talk later, alone, after they've had some time. But
not here. Not now. Regulus can respect that. "And, really, under different circumstances, I
don't think I would have minded so much that you were stepping on me."

"Under different circumstances, I don't think I would have minded doing it," Regulus says,
which earns him a more genuine grin from Barty. That was the goal.
"I worry for you both, you know," Evan mutters, shaking his head. "Flirt some other time,
and preferably when it's appropriate. We've things to discuss."

"Such as?" Regulus asks, arching an eyebrow.

Dorcas leans forward to brace her hands on the bottom of the bed, eyebrows raised. "Avery
and Wilkes woke up in the middle of the lake this morning, floating on their beds."

"Ah." Regulus flicks his gaze between Dorcas, Evan, and Barty, then Pandora. "Which one of
you—"

"None of us," Evan cuts in. "We all assumed we'd talk before deciding whether or not to
retaliate."

"Couldn't have been Sirius," Regulus says slowly. "He slept here all night before slipping off
this morning."

"Wasn't Potter," Barty adds. "He looked just as shocked rushing out to see as everyone else."

"Well, you know, he's very good at pretending," Regulus points out, raising his eyebrows.

"But not very good at lying," Evan says, "and I asked. He swore he didn't do it. So, our
theories?"

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but Snape is an obvious option, being their dorm mate,
and he wasn't left out to float on the lake," Dorcas suggests.

"Not him," Barty denies, shaking his head. "He's too smart for that. Avery and Wilkes would
turn against him, and peeving off those in your dorm is a different sort of Hell, really.
Besides, he accused Potter. They nearly got into a row, by the way. A bit of yelling until the
lovely Lily came to James' defense and Snape stomped off in a strop."
Regulus scowls. "Oh, I bet she bloody did."

"Reg," Pandora mumbles, "what are you going to do if they—"

"Don't," Regulus interrupts sharply, his chest feeling tight.

"Oh, this is a mess," Evan complains. "All of this is so much of a mess. That's not even
thinking of what sort of trouble you must be in. Did they do the same for you as Barty?"

"Detentions until the end of term and no Hogsmeade. Slughorn and Dumbledore stopped by
this morning to inform me," Regulus says dryly, wrinkling his nose.

Barty nods and gestures to himself. "Same fate. Avery, Wilkes, and Potter as well."

"Not Snape?" Pandora asks, frowning.

"He told Slughorn what Mulciber did," Regulus murmurs, watching four different pairs of
eyebrows jump up. "I doubt he did it as an extension of good will. More that he didn't want
my death on his conscience."

"Are you in his debt, then?" Dorcas muses, eyes narrowing.

"No. I was rescued before his interference did very much, honestly," Regulus admits. "Quick
thinking from you and Evan. I suppose I'm in your debt, actually. Although, Dorcas, what on
earth made you go to James and that whole lot?"

"I was desperate," Dorcas confesses. "I'd hoped that maybe you were just with him, and then
I figured he could find you, since you're always complaining that he seems to know where
you are. They must have some way of knowing, because Remus rushed off and knew where
you were when he came back."

"Really?" Regulus narrows his eyes suspiciously.

Dorcas huffs a weak laugh. "Merlin, I don't think I've ever run so fast, and still, Sirius and
James were fastest. They dove right in after you, you know."

"Sirius mentioned."

"Did he also mention that he was sobbing through most of it?"

"No, he failed to bring that part of it up. Did he actually? Aw, he does care," Regulus says
wryly, which makes them all laugh.

"James was…" Dorcas' smile fades. "Well, it was actually quite awful. It was like—like he
was in and out of it, yeah? Like he'd just be...frozen in shock, not even aware of anything,
and then suddenly it was like he'd just wake up and be too much of everything. Like, at the
lake, he was just sitting there, crying, and then when you were put on the ground, and you
weren't moving, he just—just snapped into himself. He was frantic, Regulus. And then it was
like he was gone again. Didn't come back until he had a go at Mulciber, and he was—
genuinely, I'm not joking, he was going to fucking pound Mulciber's face in until there was
nothing left to hit. He wasn't stopping, and I don't think he would have if not for Remus.
Mulciber even begged him to stop, and he just said no and kept going."

Regulus shouldn't feel warm and fuzzy because of that.

He does anyway.

"Oh, you're hopeless," Evan says in amused pity. "Look at you, Reg. You're about to swoon."
"In his defense, it sounds bloody amazing," Barty offers.

"It...sort of was," Evan muses. "I think it was so shocking just because it was James. Didn't
know he had it in him, honestly."

"Oh, but he does," Pandora mumbles. "That's obvious now."

Dorcas clears her throat. "Yeah, might be best not to anger him too much."

"Oh, I'm absolutely going to do that," Regulus declares.

"Hopeless," Pandora agrees with Evan, sighing. "He wants the memory, you know. He wants
to see it."

"I'd offer, but I'm not letting you wank to one of my memories," Evan tells him, and Barty
starts cackling.

"Oh, you better not," Pandora warns, gaping at him.

"I wouldn't," Regulus snaps. "I'm not that hopeless, alright? Piss off, you're all being shits,
and I nearly died yesterday."

"We all nearly die every day in so many various ways," Pandora says sagely. "You're not
special."

Everyone cracks up immediately, and Regulus covers his own laughter by pretending he's
getting up. "Alright, that's it, I'm going to drown myself in the lake to be free of all of you."

No one even pretends to stop him.

Regulus will never admit it, but arguing with Madame Pomfrey is genuinely one of the most
frightening experiences of his life, despite the fact that he's doing it anyway. This is not an act
of bravery in the least, but simply more stupidity that he wasn't aware he was capable of.

It's mid-morning, Regulus feels fine, and he wants to leave. He's healed entirely and bounced
back startlingly well after the curse, but he would, seeing as it's not his first time dealing with
it. He has no lingering effects after nearly drowning, thanks to Madame Pomfrey's skills and
the swiftness in which he was rescued. Now, all he's doing is missing classes.

He's sure it's all over the castle by now what happened, or just parts of it at least, and the
sooner he goes back to acting as if things are normal, the sooner things will return to normal.
Mostly. Besides, gifts have shown up next to his bed while he was sleeping after his friends
were run out by Madame Pomfrey. A plush bear from Melanie, snacks from the entire
Ravenclaw Quidditch team, chocolate from Clive, and a few different sweets from
anonymous people that he can't even try to work out who they are. It's nice, he supposes, but
he hates the idea that people are trying to visit him, and Madame Pomfrey keeps turning them
away to let him rest.

What if James came by?

And, alright, so maybe Regulus is sleeping a lot. Resting, as you need to, Madame Pomfrey
had told him. He doesn't mean to, if he's honest. It's just...when it gets quiet and he's lying
down, he drifts off quickly. Admittedly, he is a bit more tired than usual, but he's mostly
recovered, so it's fine.

"Mostly recovered is not fully recovered, Mr. Black," Madame Pomfrey tells him sharply.
"Now, you will get back in that bed and sleep more, or I will restrain you to it."

"I can sleep tonight," Regulus protests. "Just being a little tired isn't a problem. I'm always a
little tired, really."
Madame Pomfrey frowns at him. "Do you have trouble sleeping, Mr. Black?"

"Oh, Merlin," Regulus snaps, resisting the urge to groan and bang his head against a solid
surface. "Madame Pomfrey, I'm a queer seventeen year old. Obviously I have trouble
sleeping."

"Well, in that case, you should appreciate getting to catch up now," Madame Pomfrey
declares, making a shooing motion at him, her face stern. "Off to bed with you. Go on."

"But—"

"Don't make me actually restrain you. That will just be embarrassing for us both."

"Can't I just—"

"Mr. Black, if you don't—"

The Hospital Wing doors fly open, causing both of them to jolt mildly and swing around to
look, and Madame Pomfrey releases a truly exhausted sigh at the same time that Regulus
stops breathing. James. Ah, there he is.

James stutters to a halt in the doorway, frozen at the sight of Regulus just standing in the
middle of the room, flushed and ranting at Madame Pomfrey. He gives a harsh blink, his
chest swelling on a sharp inhale, and Regulus thinks, for one second, that maybe James
actually does fancy him. It's the look on his face, something profound, something that tugs at
all of Regulus' heartstrings and makes his stomach swoop.

"Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey says, sounding so very exasperated, "I already told you—"

James ignores her entirely, like she doesn't even exist, and Regulus has only one moment to
properly brace himself before James nearly fucking tackles him. Regulus grunts, trying to
keep his footing, but then James lifts him clear off his feet and squeezes him so hard that a
wheeze escapes Regulus' throat. He barely gets to try and find his balance before James is
setting him back on his feet, the motion immediately followed by James catching his face in
his hands and kissing him.

Regulus rocks back from the force of it, feeling dangerously close to tipping over entirely,
because James is so bloody earnest about it, sort of desperate like he might die if he doesn't
do it right now, as deeply as he can. It's one of those kisses where one half is overwhelmed
completely by the other, swept up into it and left to respond instinctively in one of two ways
—either you yank away, or you melt.

Rather predictably, Regulus melts. All his sharp edges smooth over, all his inner frost thaws
out, and he sinks into James like the idea of drowning doesn't even scare him.

"Fuck," James rasps when they break apart, foreheads resting together, breathing hard. He
trails his fingers over Regulus' cheeks like they're precious. Like Regulus is precious. This is
not helping that grandiose mistake in which Regulus believed, even for a moment, that James
feels something for him. "I swear I've been trying to get to you all day."

"It's not even lunch," Regulus whispers.

"Feels like it's been ages," James whispers back. "You were asleep each time, though. Sirius
said you were awake, and Dorcas said she talked to you, but—but I hadn't seen—"

"James," Regulus says quietly, because he can be sensitive sometimes, apparently. With
James, for James, he'll be gentle.

James kisses him again. Just a quick brush of lips, and then he pulls away to mumble, "You
scared me."

"I'm sorry," Regulus murmurs.

"It's alright. You're alright. You're—I mean, you're alright, yeah? Are you alright?" James
asks in a quick rush, pulling back slightly to pat his hands down the side of Regulus' face,
cupping his neck briefly, pressing into his shoulders, his eyes darting over Regulus' features.
"You seem alright, so—so you must be alright. You're alright. Are you—"

Regulus catches his wrists. "James—"

"I need you to be alright," James blurts out, like that's not a terribly, devastatingly impactful
thing to say that's having unfortunate effects on Regulus' heart.

"I'm alright," Regulus tells him, holding his gaze. "James, I'm alright. I am."

James shudders out a deep breath and reaches out to drag him close again by the back of his
neck. Regulus presses a kiss to James' cheek in pure reflex before he remembers he's not
supposed to be doing things like that, but if James thinks anything of it, he doesn't say. He's a
little busy burying his face into Regulus' hair, arms wrapped securely around him.

"I—I might be a little, ah, out of my head at the moment," James mumbles. "Haven't slept.
Sorry."

"Why do none of you sleep?" Madame Pomfrey mutters, audibly agitated, and then she's
there beside them both, shooing them and ushering them towards the bed Regulus has been
occupying. "Sleep, both of you! Potter, if you're going to be bursting in every hour on the
hour, you may as well just stay, but you are not to interrupt Mr. Black's rest. He is still
healing, do I make myself clear?"

"Er, yes?" James tries, eyes wide as he knocks into the bed, quickly sitting down on it as
Madame Pomfrey bustles around them, grumbling under her breath.

Regulus waits for her to separate and put them in different beds, but she acts like she doesn't
even see them hovering next to one another. She sharply orders them to sleep—she will be
coming out within the hour to check, or forcing sleeping potions on them both if they're still
awake, she's sure to tell them—and then she leaves, complaining about the sleeping patterns
of teenagers. Regulus blinks after her, then blinks at James, who promptly drags him down to
sit next to him.

"Why haven't you slept?" Regulus asks.

"Couldn't," James says, then shuffles over to cup Regulus' jaw and turn his face again, just
gazing at him.

"The snitch didn't help?" Regulus murmurs.

James shakes his head. "Nothing did, really. Just felt like… Well, if I'm honest, I've had a bad
day, Regulus."

"Unusual for you," Regulus jokes weakly.

"I think it's not, really, but I'm good at making people believe it is, even myself." James takes
a deep breath and thumbs gently at the divot of Regulus' jaw, just a gentle pressure. "I
thought you died. I saw you lying there when they pulled you out, and you weren't breathing.
Your lips were blue. I saw you, and I keep seeing you. I'm still seeing you like that."

"Even now?" Regulus asks, finding the thought fills him with discomfort. It makes him
uneasy. He doesn't want James to look at him and see that.

"Not so much now." James flicks his gaze over Regulus' face, studying him, drinking him in.
"Merlin, you look so alive."

Regulus' face scrunches. "Alive? Potter, as far as flattery goes, that was pretty shit. Obviously
I look alive; I am alive, idiot."

"Oh, listen at you," James breathes out, laughing softly, ducking in to bring their mouths
together again.
"James, James, no one is here," Regulus tells him, pulling back quickly before his restraint
snaps and he gives in entirely, which will undoubtedly lead to something stupid.

James makes a defeated noise. "Then—then someone could come in, or fly past the window,
or—or fucking come up with whatever reason you need, because I thought—I really thought
you—and you look so alive, so if you'll let me, if you're alright with it, can I please—"

Regulus' restraint goes up like smoke, and he tips forward back into the kiss before James can
beg any further, his heart hammering in his chest at the fact that it's happening, and no one's
here, and James begged for it at all. James makes a soft noise like he's so relieved he could
cry, and then he just kisses him, keeps kissing him like that's all he wants to do.

James kisses him just to kiss him. There's something magical about that. Regulus can't
explain it, the wonder of being kissed solely for the purpose of it, simply because it's wanted.
Not for show. Not for anything but themselves.

Regulus doesn't realize he's sinking back until he's gently laid out, and James is stretching as
far as he can to accommodate the space, but it must be a strain, because he grunts and begins
to shift. Slow, distracted, not even seeming to realize what he's doing, James just crawls up
the length of Regulus' body so he can hover over him and continue properly snogging him,
like that's the most important goal. Regulus' head spins.

Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, Regulus thinks, making the room for James' hips between his
knees, because it's so effortless, so natural and exciting and terrifying and and and—

One of James' hands braces on the pillow by his head, but the other fumbles for Regulus'
fingers fisted in the front of his shirt to grab them and push them out flat to the pillow. Slow,
easy, James' fingers slide in between Regulus' splayed ones, pressing and curling down to
brace himself there instead, letting them hold hands while he does it. Regulus makes a quiet
sound into the kiss and clings to James' hand for dear life, and James lifts his other one away,
balancing on his knees and one hand, then reaches down to grab Regulus' thigh.

Regulus is startled by how clearly and loudly the sensation comes across to him. Objectively,
it's just a hand on his thigh. He's had a hand on his thigh before, and it certainly never made
him feel like this. James isn't really even doing anything, just holding on for balance, but
Regulus feels every inch of his splayed fingers like they're branding his skin.

Then, of course, James does do something. He clamps down harder, fingers flexing into the
muscle, and before Regulus can get his scrambled mind in order, James is slipping his hand
down to hook his fingers below Regulus' knee and pull his leg up further, hauling his body up
the bed a little bit and making more room for James to just—settle in. Because oh, he's
settling in, the fucking lunatic. Settling in like he's going to lay here forever and snog
Regulus until they both just die, like that's all he's going to do, and he'll be delighted to do
just that.

"Shit," Regulus chokes out, practically speaking directly into James' mouth.

"What? Are you alright? Regulus, you're shaking," James says, popping up slightly to blink
down at him in bemusement. He looks so good that Regulus sort of hates him a bit. Messy
hair, swollen mouth, lopsided glasses, eyes bright and hazy.

"No I'm not," denies Regulus, who is vibrating like he's about to explode. "I'm fine. I'm so—
I'm really—"

"You are, though," James murmurs, his eyebrows furrowing, and he starts stroking Regulus'
leg like he's trying to soothe him, as if that's not making him fucking insane.

"Yes, well, I almost drowned yesterday, James," Regulus snaps, his voice shaky for reasons
that have absolutely nothing to do with his brush with death and everything to do with James
Potter hovering over him, in between his legs, wanting to kiss him. "Excuse me for being a
little—out of sorts."

Much to Regulus' dismay, James immediately wrenches away and to the side. Wait, no, come
back, Regulus thinks reflexively, but it's too late. James flops down right next to him,
snatching his hands back and looking horrified. "Oh, bloody hell, I'm so sorry. That was—
that was an awful thing for me to do. You're fucking recovering, and I'm—I'm—"

"James," Regulus begins, but James is shot off berating himself now, because of course he is.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That was ridiculous and stupid; of course you're out of sorts after all
you've been through. Merlin, I should have never—and that was blurring the lines. You said
not to do that. Sorry. Shit, sorry, I was just—my mind is—" James cuts himself off, finally,
squeezing his eyes shut.

"Chocolate frog?" Regulus asks softly, sympathetic now, his heart clenching at the strain on
James' face.

"Yeah. Chocolate frog," James whispers hoarsely. "It's chaotic and messy, and—and it's even
cruel and hard to get back into any semblance of order, which isn't even your problem.
Fucking hell, I'm so sorry. You shouldn't—"

Regulus reaches forward, gingerly pushing his fingers into James' hair, watching his face
relax slightly. "Stop. Breathe. You're alright, James. Just let the frog jump, it's alright."

"I'm sorry," James says, one of his hands coming up to press flat against Regulus' chest. It's
good that Regulus' heart is calming, and one can't feel a heart breaking from the outside.
James shouldn't feel the need to apologize for feeling. "I just—you're just so alive, and I
wanted to be sure. I wanted to taste it, and feel it, and I was so scared. Regulus, I was so
scared. I'm still scared. I'm—"

"Alright, stop now, hush now," Regulus whispers, tugging on James a little bit and scooting
closer.

James pretty much collapses forward into him, muffling very abrupt sobs against Regulus'
chest, and Regulus curls his arms around his shoulders, over his head, tucking him in and
keeping him safe. He closes his eyes and presses his face against the top of James' head, his
heart breaking all over again in an entirely different way.

Of course this would be hard on James. Death is hard on everyone, and while Regulus isn't
dead, James spent a bit of yesterday thinking that he was. And James may not fancy him,
may not love him, but Regulus doesn't doubt that there's room in that big heart of his to care
about him. Regulus knows James cares about him, because James is James, and he wouldn't
have made it to this point if he didn't.
When the tears slow and eventually stop, James doesn't resurface. He breathes in the pocket
of space Regulus has created of the curl of his arms and the concave of his chest. His fingers
twist in the front of Regulus' shirt, just like a small child, and he sniffles like one, too. It's
adorable. Of course it is.

They shift, slowly, over a careful stretch of time. Regulus has to lie on his back, because the
discomfort in his shoulders won't stand for anything else. James makes a quiet sound of
discontent, then seems fine once he realizes that Regulus isn't pulling away, only tugging on
him to come along. James does, his head resting on Regulus' chest, his breath still hiccuping
a little bit from where he cried so hard. He seems calmer now, though. Regulus thinks he's
listening to his heartbeat.

It's only once James' breathing has returned to normal that he speaks. Regulus keeps right on
rubbing his back with one hand and carding the fingers on his other through James' hair as he
mumbles, "I was meant to come here and comfort you. I think I mucked that up."

"You did, yeah," Regulus agrees blandly, and James releases a startled laugh, his shoulders
shaking slightly.

"Sorry," James says quietly, audibly somber. He turns his head and rests his chin on Regulus'
chest, gazing at him. His eyes are red-rimmed and a little puffy. "You're one of my favorite
people in this world, you know."

Regulus rucks up his hair a bit, scanning his face. "Am I?"

"Yeah," James confirms. "So, when I—when I thought you were… I don't know. I've been a
mess ever since, really. I thought—I actually had the thought, you know, that I'd just go
drown myself in the lake, too."

"Pyramus," Regulus whispers, the name falling out before he can catch it and swallow it
down.
James blinks at him. "Pyr—oh, you mean the bloke who tossed himself on his own sword
because he thought—"

"Thisbe was dead?" Regulus fills in. "Yeah, him."

"Merlin, don't compare us to them, Regulus," James mutters, wrinkling his nose. "It's a
tragedy, and I don't like it."

But Regulus does. It leaves him slightly breathless, just the thought that they're even
comparable at all. Regulus would do no differently than Thisbe; that's the sad part. If he'd
woken up to find that James had drowned himself in the lake, he would have followed him
right back into it of his own free will and volition without even looking back.

Oh no, Regulus thinks, gripped with a sudden, horrible sense of dread that's colder than the
lake was. The fear of it stings and causes his heart to constrict. I'm in love with James Potter.

"Fuck me," Regulus says, resigned, dropping his head back against the pillow as he squeezes
his eyes shut.

"Regulus?"

"Don't talk to me right now."

"Are you alright?" James asks, concerned in an instant.

"No." Regulus opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, utterly devastated. "No, James, I'm
not."

"What's wrong?" James asks, then pauses. "Wait, that was a stupid question. Nevermind. Do
you want to talk about it?"
Regulus releases a raspy, choked laugh and lifts his hands to cover his face. "Absolutely
not."

"It's my turn to comfort you, I take it?" James murmurs, scooting up the bed to flop on his
back and hold open his arms, nudging him with his knee until Regulus drops his hands and
looks over to see the offering. "Come on, then."

And, despite the fact that it's not at all going to help with his very major problem, Regulus
slumps over against James with a deep, gusty sigh. He thinks a part of him knew that he'd end
up here. As much as he's been trying to avoid it, to outrun it, there's no getting away from it
now. It goes beyond fancying James, and wanting to shag him; Regulus apparently doesn't
want to fucking live without him. Oh, this is awful. A love like Pyramus and Thisbe,
reimagined in one of the worst ways possible, because Pyramus loves another.

"You can talk to me about it, or anything at all, Regulus, if you want," James says softly,
rubbing his back now.

"Why don't you talk?" Regulus mumbles.

James is silent for a long beat, and then he clears his throat and says, "Do you—have you
changed your mind? About...pretending to date?"

"What?" Regulus' head snaps up. "No. Why? Have you?"

"If—if you're not safe," James starts, and absolutely fucking not.

Regulus props up and glares at James. "Don't make this about me. You weren't there. This—
James, this had nothing to do with that."
"I just want you to be safe," James whispers, lifting his hand to brush the pads of his fingers
gently over Regulus' forehead, pushing his hair back. "If I'm putting you in danger—"

"My existence puts me in danger, James, and you're in the same situation," Regulus says,
clipped, his heart racing. No, not now. Not after this. Not so soon. Regulus isn't ready; he still
wants this for just a bit longer, only a little longer, please. "I meant what I said while we were
at Hogsmeade. I haven't changed my mind, and—and besides, do you think it'll be easier just
because we aren't doing it anymore? Are you telling me we shouldn't be—free? You?"

"I—no, but I—how am I meant to carry on with it if it's only getting you hurt?" James asks
quietly.

Because it feels too good to stop, Regulus doesn't say, even if that's a part of it. There's more,
though, and he says that instead. "It's not getting me hurt, James, and you know that already.
It means something to people like us. And—and if people think that doing these things will
stop us, then they're wrong. I can't stop being gay. Do you understand that? I won't try."

"You shouldn't have to," James says.

"No one should," Regulus agrees, holding his gaze. James swallows harshly. "That's not what
this was about. It was just Mulciber being—well, Mulciber. He'd be delighted, you know, if
this is what came of it."

"Oh, so you just don't want to give anyone the satisfaction, is that it?" James murmurs,
smiling weakly. His hand cups Regulus' cheek, and he's pushing his thumb along Regulus'
bottom lip right after. Regulus can feel it tugging.

"Do you?" Regulus challenges.

"Not really," James admits.

"There you have it, then," Regulus whispers, lips parting. He scrapes his teeth over the pad of
James' thumb because he's fucking mental.

"Right," James rasps, staring, and then he gives a violent blink and pulls his hand back. It's
trembling a little bit. "Sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I don't know. Everything just feels like my fault, and I keep—I keep doing stupid things."

"This wasn't your fault," Regulus tells him.

"If—if you're absolutely sure," James says, looking at him with wide eyes, so much trust in
his gaze, like he's looking to Regulus for the answers and will take comfort from everything
he says.

"I'm sure," Regulus declares firmly, holding his gaze.

"Alright." James takes a deep breath, nodding, then he reaches up and pushes his hand into
Regulus' hair, carefully guiding Regulus' head down to his chest again. "Alright, love, if you
say so. I'll just be your very protective boyfriend, then."

"Fake," Regulus reminds him, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Yeah," James agrees, scratching lightly, soothingly, at his scalp. "But you being one of my
favorite people isn't fake, Regulus. Do you—do you know that?"

"I do now," Regulus breathes out, and oh, that knowledge wraps snug and warm around his
heart, making all of this worth it.
"Good," James says simply.

"I heard you pummeled Mulciber," Regulus mutters.

James tenses against him. "Ah, yeah, I—I did."

"Why?"

"I thought you were dead, and he was at fault."

"Merlin, James," Regulus mumbles, raising his head and repeatedly thumping his forehead
against James' chest. Why is he doing this to Regulus? How could Regulus not fall in love
with him? He's just so…

"I know," James says, strained, his voice a little stiff. "I know it's not—I know doing that is—
is awful, and it was… It was really quite bad, or so I've heard. I don't, er, remember most of
it. I suppose I just got so angry that I lost it."

Regulus groans and reaches up to cover James' mouth with his hand. "Shut up. Please, for the
love of Merlin, stop talking. No more talking. We're sleeping now."

"Oh, are we?" James mutters, his words muffled against Regulus' palm. After some
deliberation, he licks it, then laughs when Regulus snatches his hand back in horror, feeling
as if he'll combust. "Don't look so appalled, love. I've had my tongue in your mouth multiple
times at this point."

"Fuck off," Regulus chokes out, burying his face against James' chest, because James is just
torturing him now. "You're supposed to be comforting me. You're awful at it."

James hums and wraps his arms around him tighter. "Sorry. I'll just hold you, then. Nothing
more, nothing less."
 "That's enough," Regulus says quietly, turning his head to rest his cheek against James' chest,
his eyes drifting shut once more. Oh no, it's quiet and he's lying down, and despite
everything, he feels calm in only the way James can make him feel.

"I'm so glad you're alive," James whispers, brushing his hand over Regulus' hair with a
reverent touch.

Regulus can't help but think about the feeling of being in James' arms, how wondrous it is,
when he says, "Me too."

Chapter End Notes

effie and monty my beloveds <3

sirius my beloved <3
pandora, evan, dorcas, and barty my beloveds <3

sirius looking at the moon: oh, the moon is so beautiful

regulus: don't you call remus the moon all the time?
sirius: DON'T POINT IT OUT

regulus waking up and first, wanting to immediately kill mulciber, so true of him, and
then second, drooling over james, he's so valid!

rest assured, barty will NOT be looked over. none of this will be brushed aside. more of
that coming, i assure you. that just wasn't the time or place. it's also partially just that,
well, regulus deals with things in his own time, or prefers not to deal with them at all.
he's just like me!

also, james breaking down and having a good cry, my baby 😭😭😭 he needed that, to
be honest. not him showing up and immediately kissing regulus as much as he can get
away, poor boy is STRUGGLING. he's been dealing with a lot, so you're all going to
have to cut him some slack. there's a reason he's being this oblivious, i PROMISE.

oh, oh, and avery and wilkes out on the lake! it's like that scene from parent trap where
that lady who nearly swallowed a lizard was dragged out on the lake. imagine that exact
thing happened to avery and wilkes. make your guesses as to who put them there! we do
get it confirmed who did it ;)
 ACT THREE: Part Three
Chapter Notes

warnings for this chapter: none, really. a little bit of jealousy, jealousy. a little bit of
tension between friends. a little bit of on brand stupidity.

im excited about this one

enjoy ;)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

James is surprised by the fierce hug Marlene tugs him into the moment he steps into the
common room. She's standing by the entrance like she's just come in, and Lily and Mary are
a few steps in front of her, glancing back with small smiles.

"Marlene?" James asks, hugging her back automatically.

She doesn't let go for a very long moment, her head tucked up under his chin, and this is
surprising because she's not really affectionate like this very often—mostly after they've won
Quidditch matches, had good practices, or she's just gotten some very good news. He learned
this about her when they were only nine years old, the very first time they met in Diagon
Alley. They bumped into each other in Fortescue's, both nearly dropping their ice cream, and
then they both wanted to try the flavor the other had, so that's exactly what they did.

Needless to say, they became fast friends. Their parents had found them outside, sharing ice
cream and talking excitedly about the latest model of broom that had been released at the
time. Effie had vaguely known of the McKinnons—went to Hogwarts with at least one—and
so they were friendly enough to chat and let their children laugh together.

When the McKinnons had to leave, though, the very first thing James tried to do was hug
Marlene goodbye. She pushed him to the ground, stole his ice cream, and skipped off while
he complained to his parents until they rolled their eyes and got him more ice cream—yeah,
alright, so he was a bit spoiled, but that's besides the point. The point is, James had learned
then that Marlene was not one for hugs.
They met again two years later when they both went to Hogwarts. He remembers when they'd
been sorted into Gryffindor. He'd pulled himself away from Sirius—who he had already
swiftly fallen in love with by that point—to look at her, squint, and say, "Oi, you're the girl
who stole my ice cream, aren't you? Marlene, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. James, right?" Marlene had replied, grinning. "Good flavor you picked out, by the
way."

"I know," James had huffed, and Marlene had laughed at him before promptly turning away
to talk to Mary, who she was quickly becoming fast friends with.

All-in-all, it made complete sense to James that he and Marlene would be friends. She had
pushed him to the ground, stolen his ice cream, and made him laugh more easily than anyone
ever had by that point. Of course they would be.

And they have been. For seven bloody years, they've been really good friends, even when
Lily abhorred him, even when Marlene abhorred Sirius (she went through a phase where she
despised his entire existence; sometimes she randomly slips back into said phase, but more
lovingly and less bitter), and they've never once actually fought or had problems. She's
tolerated his affectionate ways more as they've aged, but he's learned that she appreciates
small gestures of affection over anything else; a light shove on her arm, bumping shoulders,
things such as that. He will restrain himself most of the time for her sake, and sometimes
she'll allow him to throw an arm around her, or kiss her cheek if he's doing it to Mary or Lily
as well, but initiating a hug is rare. Very rare.

Marlene pushes him back and looks at him, releasing a shaky breath before saying, sounding
breathless, "I just told McGonagall that I'm a lesbian."

"Oh," James says. "Wicked!"

"James, I won," Marlene hisses. "I won the bet."

"The—" James' eyes widen. "No. No, actually? We all gave up on that in fifth year! She
hugged you?"

Marlene bobs her head, eyes bright. "She fucking hugged me, mate. I won. I won."

"I was just hugged by someone Minnie hugged," James says in wonder, reaching out to grasp
her arms. "You fucking legend, McKinnon. Sirius is going to shit his pants."

"I know," Marlene hisses, triumphant. "And I—well, it's because of you. Because of—I mean,
partially because of you. Just… What you said last night, about—about ignoring that you're
queer, because I—" Her smile fades a little bit, and she swallows. "I suppose I have been
ignoring that I am, a bit. And maybe I had a problem with it, with being queer myself, but
then you said if anyone has a problem with it, then they have a problem with you, James, and
you're—you're right. Why should I ignore it? Why should I have a problem with it? So, I
talked to McGonagall, maybe cried a bit, and she fucking hugged me."

"That's really brilliant, Marlene," James tells her, breaking out into a grin. "It's—I mean,
obviously you're allowed to have your issues with it, things you have to work through. That's
not really what I meant, but alright. Whatever you took from it, if it helped, I suppose."

"It did," Marlene says softly. "Thank you."

"Thank Regulus," James replies.

Marlene huffs a laugh. "Oh, I will. How is he?"

"He was sleeping when I left, but he's—he's alright," James murmurs, clearing his throat.

"That's good. I'm glad," Marlene tells him.

James smiles and drops his hands. "And good on you, yeah? Being a lesbian, I mean. Women
are lovely."

"Truly." Marlene releases a slightly shaky, exhilarated laugh, her eyes sparkling. "I feel like I
could win a Quidditch match on my own. I just—I'm going to—I don't know, it's like it's
about to explode out of me. I'm just—" She laughs again, then tosses her head back and
announces to the entire common room, "Oi, I'm a fucking lesbian!"

"Woo, McKinnon!" Sirius belts out from the sofa, swiveling around to grin at her at the same
time that Peter and Remus look back. "Fuck yeah you are!"

"Good on you, Marlene!" Peter calls. "I'm queer, too!"

"Is that so, Pete?" Marlene asks, choking on a laugh.

Peter huffs out a laugh of his own. "Probably."

"Fuck yeah you are!" Sirius crows supportively.

"I'm going to snog Dorcas Meadowes!" Marlene blurts out, her cheeks flushed, and she's
breathing hard now. This earns her more whoops, and somehow, the celebratory setting
seems to be spreading. More people are joining in, the uncertainty fading, because everything
seems so ridiculous in a silly way, just a bunch of children locked in a room together caught
up in the rush of something that feels rebellious and fun.

Once again, Sirius bellows, "Fuck yeah you are!"

"Do it," Mary declares. "Snog the girl, McKinnon. Give her the fucking snog of her life."

"Maybe, er, ask first," Remus suggests with a chuckle.

Marlene's entire face turns red. "I don't know why I said her name. She was just the first girl
who popped into my head."

"Wonder why," Lily teases, waggling her eyebrows.

"She is so pretty," Marlene whispers, biting her lip.

"She really is," Lily and Mary reply in unison, then look at each other with tight smiles and
immediately look away.

James tosses his hands up. "Alright, Sirius was right—"

"Fuck yeah I was!" Sirius bursts out, then settles a bit and scratches the side of his head. "Of
course I was, but about what, exactly?"

"We need a club," James announces. "A queer club of some sort."

"Isn't that just you and your group of friends, Potter?" a fourth year girl, Jillian Gunther, asks
with a snort.

"I mean, you're not wrong," James admits sheepishly, "but we can't monopolize being queer,
Jillian. There's more than just us. You could be in the club, if you were."

Jillian's eyes go round. "Wait, really? Is Lily going to be in it?"

"Ah," Lily says as all eyes turn to her, and she smiles softly as Jillian stares at her in pure
admiration. A lot of younger years admire her, but Jillian is quite possibly her biggest fan.
After a beat, rather bravely, Lily clears her throat and continues, "I would be, yeah, seeing as
I'm technically queer, too."
"Alright, I'm queer," Jillian declares immediately.

"Jillian," Lily says gently, "that's not really—"

"Brilliant!" James cuts in, briefly glancing at Lily and shaking his head. "That's Jillian, then.
Anyone else?"

Too many hands go up to count.

McGonagall looks up and glances between Lily and James, her lips pursed slightly. Lily
fidgets, as McGonagall tends to fluster her a bit when she gets shrewd like this, but James
remains relaxed, meeting her gaze steadily.

Finally, after a long moment, McGonagall says, "Sit."

They sit.

"I want to express admiration for this endeavor," McGonagall tells them, her voice quieter
and softer than it usually is. She drops her gaze to the parchment full of signatures, then looks
back up at them. "What you two—what all of you would like to attempt is—it's very
courageous. It's inspiring as well for so many people. Some of the names here, I've spoken to
them in the aftermath of your public relationship with Mr. Black, Potter, and the impact of
such a thing should not go without acknowledgement. You've brought comfort to many
young people—" She meets his gaze, "—as well as old."

James can't quite keep his mouth from dropping open. He goggles at her in shock, reflexively
leaning forward as he, with no tact, blurts out, "You too, Minnie?"
"James," Lily hisses, giving a look that quite clearly states what the fuck is wrong with you?

"Sorry," James chokes out. "Oh, Merlin, I'm about to cry."

He is, actually. Genuinely, he feels tears spring to his eyes, just at the thought that something
he has done—something he and Regulus have done—has brought Minerva McGonagall
comfort. The Minerva McGonagall, who is fair, and stern, and a steady source of comfort for
many of her students. For Sirius, most of all. To call herself old is a bit of a stretch, seeing as
she's only forty-seven, but there's no missing the significant look that briefly passed in her
eyes.

James' mind is moving at the speed of light now, focused entirely on this, on the prospect that
adults—proper, older adults—can also be queer. Of course they can. This can't be a new
development in his generation. And McGonagall... She has no husband or children. She has
never once indicated anything to do with her love life, or lack thereof. Not many Professors
do, really, but some of them are married, have photos of their spouses on their desks, visit
their families at Hogsmeade, or at the end of a day.

"All that is to say," McGonagall continues, as if he's not about to weep, "I feel it's imperative
to point out the dangers of this. Some of the names here belong to those as young as second
years. The response to a gathering such as this could be… Well, unfortunately, it could turn
all of you into targets. I also note that this is limited to Gryffindors—"

"Wait," James cuts in quickly, gathering his wits about him because this is important. "No,
you're right. Maybe we did go about it the wrong way. It's—it's supposed to be inclusive,
yeah? But also safe. So...what if we did it anonymously?"

McGonagall stares at him. "What do you mean by that?"

James bites his lip. "What if we stuck up notices about a place, a room to meet in, right? And
no one had to sign up for it, no one had to even tell anyone they were going, but they could
just...show up. And—and we could put up wards so no one with bad intentions could come
inside. And no one could see inside unless they are inside. And it's open to all Houses, all
years, even the bloody Professors. What about that?"
"Oh, James, that's excellent," Lily hisses, her eyes bright as she looks at him. "We could even
charm it so only queer people could see it! I—well, alright, I don't really know how we could,
but give Remus and I a week, and we'll figure it out."

"Yes, brilliant!" James bursts out, excited now. "Oh, and we could have like—like drinks and
snacks. Just a place where people could go to—to get to be themselves, yeah? Obviously
we'd have to take some precautions and look after those younger, but we will. Professor, I
promise you we will."

McGonagall looks at them for a long moment, searching each of their faces as they look at
her hopefully, and then her eyes visibly soften. "Yes, alright. If you'll be careful and keep me
aware of everything, allow me to help with all of it, and clear meetings through me
beforehand, then yes."

"Yes!" James and Lily burst out in unison, whipping around towards each other to lean over
the arms of their chairs to hug, laughing in pure victory.

"What do you want, Potter?"

James falters in genuine dismay, staring at Evan as if he's personally betrayed him. "Evan? I
thought we were alright?"

"Your mistake," Evan replies, clipped, and Pandora stifles a laugh into her hand as Barty and
Dorcas grin at each other.

"What did I do?" James mumbles, shoulders slumping.

Evan purses his lips. "You breathed. Now what do you want?"
"Well, er, there's this club," James starts, then hesitates when all eyes turn to him. "I'm in no
way suggesting that any of you would be a part of this club, but I know Regulus will be,
because I will be dragging him with me, and I just thought… Well, I thought he'd be
comforted by the support of his closest friends, if not their presence, because, again, I'm not
at all suggesting that any of you would be included."

"What club?" Pandora asks curiously.

"It's a queer club. Or it will be," James says. "It's not actually formed yet, just started working
on it today, but Reg is still in the Hospital Wing, and Madame Pomfrey won't let me in again,
so I… Well, I figured I could talk to you about it myself, since it was partially my idea."

Pandora smiles. "Oh, that sounds lovely. I'd like to go."

"I'll be there," Dorcas says simply.

"Reckon we'll all go if Reggie does," Barty muses.

James perks up. "Brilliant! I was a little worried that he'd be the only Slytherin, if I'm
honest."

"Are you suggesting Slytherins can't be queer?" Dorcas asks, arching an eyebrow at him.

"What? No! No, of course not," James exclaims, eyes bulging.

Barty cocks his head. "Then are you suggesting no Slytherins have the stones to show up?"

"I—no, that's not—" James opens and closes his mouth, looking between all of them
helplessly, wishing desperately that Regulus was here with him. His friends are fucking
menaces when he's not around, as he's already learned when each of them found him at
separate points in one day, like they planned it, to fluster him and threaten his life if he were
to ever hurt Regulus. It's sweet, though, the way they love him.

"I'm not even a Slytherin," Pandora reminds him, like he's disappointed her by forgetting.

Evan heaves a sigh. "Oh, you poor thing. Come on, Potter, sit down. You're so stupid."

"I thought we were mates," James mumbles as he sits down on the grass next to Barty, who
promptly dumps a snake into his lap. James shrieks and scrambles back in horror, flinging it
away as everyone busts out laughing, the snake coiling up and hissing at him. "What the fuck,
Crouch?!"

"Have a problem with Zar, do you?" Dorcas asks, clicking her tongue as she reaches out to
scoop the snake—Zar—up in one hand. Zar starts coiling around her arm.

"You brought the snake out of your dorm?" James hisses in disbelief, glancing between them
all incredulously.

"We were going to sneak him in to see Regulus," Evan explains, amused. "Madame Pomfrey
turned us away, too, though. Not because of Zar. She didn't know about him."

"Isn't he venomous?" James mutters warily.

Dorcas holds her arm out to let him peer closer at Zar. "It's alright, James. We have it
charmed to where, if he strikes out, he'll hit a gentle little shield. He's gone for my face so
many times by now. Think he's trying to give me a kiss."

"I don't think that's what he's doing. Merlin, you're all mental." James shakes his head but
nonetheless leans in closer and raises a hesitant hand. "Can I...er, pet him?"
"Sure," Barty encourages, looking ridiculously proud as he gazes at Zar, like he's gazing upon
his very own child.

James reaches out and runs one finger over Zar's scales, feeling some of them shift and move
as he winds further up Dorcas' arm. "I can't believe you were all going to sneak a sodding
snake in for Regulus."

"He's so fucking calm about him, you know," Evan muses, shaking his head with a small
smirk. "I put Zar in the bed with him once, and Regulus didn't even flinch. Just woke up, said
oh, hello, how did you get out, let's get you back, and then put him right back. A bit
disappointing, honestly. Barty and I were waiting for him to scream or piss himself."

"You should have seen him when he found Zar," Barty says, huffing out a laugh. "He started
to lay down, then stopped, stepped back, and snapped his hand out to catch Zar behind the
head. Lifted him up and made Evan nearly piss himself."

"Fuck off, I did not. You screamed."

"I didn't. Shut up, Rosier."

"You did," Evan insists.

"I'd never. No, I wouldn't. Because Zar is a lovely little thing, nothing scary about him,"
Barty coos, leaning over to put his face down right next to Zar. He laughs softly when Zar
raises up and strikes at him, only to gently sway back, not even really hitting anything—it's
more like something has gently pushed his head back before he could sink his fangs into
Barty's face.

"He really is a bit stupid," Dorcas says fondly. "Genuinely, he'd never survive without us.
He's a conjured snake, you know, so he's a little off."
"I worry the other snakes would be mean to him if we let him go," Pandora admits sadly.
"And he doesn't know how to hunt. He needs us, really."

"I—" James glances around at all of them, mystified, and then he starts laughing. "My
goodness, you're all ridiculous."

"We will be telling Regulus that you shrieked when we dumped Zar on you, James, just so
you know," Evan tells him, his lips twitching.

"Oh, don't. He'll never let me live it down. We'll be old and grey, and he'll still mock me for
it," James groans.

Pandora hums, reaching out to grab Dorcas' arm so Zar can start slithering over to her
instead. "Until you're old and grey, you said? Think you'll make it that long with him, do
you?"

"Oh. I mean, yeah," James says, blinking, and it's not even really a lie. Obviously he and
Regulus won't be fake dating at that point, but he can't fathom why he and Regulus wouldn't
still be in each other's lives, even when they're old. For one thing, he's Sirius' little brother, so
they're bound to be around each other, but even past that, James can't really picture a future
that Regulus isn't a part of.

"Seems like you two are serious," Dorcas comments, lifting her gaze to meet James'. "You
think you'll last?"

"Well, even if we don't, we'd still be…" James trails off, trying to find the right word for it.
"We'd be close, surely. If we don't last, it'd be an amicable split."

Barty leans up, smirking at him, and it's not a very nice smirk at all. It's mean. "Oh, you
should know, really, that he and I will end up together if you two don't. We have a deal, you
see. If we're not settled with anyone by the time we're twenty-five, we'll just be together. How
close could you two be if he's spending all his time with me?"
"You can't have him," James says reflexively, his voice coming out sharper than he means for
it to. He can't really help it, though. Suddenly, his chest is burning.

"If not me, then who?" Barty challenges, tilting his head to the side to gaze at him like he's
something to laugh at, like he's pure entertainment. "There will be others besides you, James.
Others who will take his time and focus and do the things you used to do, and things you'll
never get to."

James grinds his teeth, sitting up abruptly, the burning sensation in his chest spreading
further. "No. Just—no. There won't be anyone else, fuck off."

"Oh, sure," Barty sing-songs. "I'm only saying that for if you two don't last. Surely you don't
have to worry about that; it's not like anyone goes into a relationship planning to break up."

The burning feeling in James' chest seems to harden, feeling heavy under his sternum instead.
He wilts underneath it a bit, resisting the impulse to reach up and rub where it aches. He
presses his lips into a thin line and stands up, jaw clenched. They all peer up at him, watching
and waiting.

"Excuse me," James snaps, aiming for polite and missing by lightyears. He whirls around and
marches away.

"What's got you into a strop?" Sirius asks curiously, leaning up against one post casually as
he twirls his wand between his fingers—like Peter taught them—and bites the head off his
chocolate frog clamped in his other hand.

"I'm not in a strop," James retorts.

Sirius makes a big show of looking over at Peter and Remus with wide eyes and raised
eyebrows, still chewing. As he swallows, he says, "Oh, I know a strop when I see one. I
practically invented them, even if Remus perfected them. Nice to see you jumping on the
train. We're just missing Pete now."

"I'm not in a fucking strop!" James snaps.

"Oh, no, not at all," Sirius replies, coughing out a laugh, then smothering it by stuffing the
rest of his chocolate frog into his mouth, visibly amused.

James, who is repeatedly making up his bed for some reason, smacks his pillow down and
mutters, "Piss off, I'm—I'm fine. I'm in a lovely mood. I'm happy. I'm the happiest."

"Yeah, we can see that," Sirius says, dragging his gaze over where James is snatching at his
tucked in sheets just to tuck them in over again. "Just the happiest, Prongs."

"You can't let him," James bursts out, flinging the sheet back down, watching Sirius'
eyebrows rise. "You're his older brother; it only makes sense that you'd be—you wouldn't let
him end up with some—some prick after me."

Sirius stares at him. "We're in a strop about Regulus. I see."

"It can't be anyone who's—who won't respect him," James declares. "The bloke has to respect
him when he says no about anything, doesn't matter what it is, and respect that he'll just say
no to test him sometimes, to make sure that he'll respect him, and that's alright. There's
nothing wrong with it."

"Right," Sirius says. "Sorry, I'm trying so hard to follow along, but I have no idea what we're
talking about. I mean, I agree, of course, because it's you, but I need some clarification."

James grits his teeth. "Regulus' next boyfriend."

"First," Remus murmurs.

"What?" James cuts his eyes to Remus, who visibly hesitates in a way he usually doesn't.

Carefully, Remus says, "His first boyfriend. Not his next. You're not actually his boyfriend,
James."

"I know that. Don't you think I fucking know that, Remus?" James bites out, and Remus
raises his hands in surrender, dropping his gaze. "That's not—you know what I bloody well
meant, and that's not even the point."

"Hey," Sirius says, reaching out to whack James on the side of the head, not too hard but
firmly enough that James blinks at him, startled. Sirius raises his eyebrows at him. "Lay off
Moony. He didn't do anything."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot that only you get to—" James cuts himself off, and Sirius' eyebrows
climb even higher. They stare at each other, and Sirius cocks his head, daring him. Oh, James
wants to. He's annoyed enough that he really wants to.

They've all been on edge, really, since yesterday when Regulus nearly drowned. They're all
also making the effort to carry on despite this, even if it's difficult. Sirius lapses into silences,
randomly upset, and he'll just abruptly get anxious and demand to see the map, repeatedly
looking in the Hospital Wing to make sure Regulus' name hasn't moved towards the lake.
James is ridiculously frazzled and more emotional than usual, running on very little sleep,
unused to nightmares. He's never really had them before, but the vision of Regulus on the
ground, lips blue and not breathing...it haunts him.

Everyone's trying, though. That doesn't mean they're not on edge, as this moment clearly goes
to show. James feels itchy and angry and just...overflowing, like he might explode. Sirius
stares him down.

"What? Go on, mate, finish what you were saying," Sirius prompts, watching him with clear
eyes.
"I'm so scared right now," Peter whispers.

It's that, really, that sort of pierces through James' agitation. He blows out a deep breath and
reaches up to cover his face, scrubbing both hands up and down as he groans. It upsets his
glasses, and he drops his hands limply to his sides to mutter, rather miserably, "Sorry. I was
being a prick. I'm just—I'm not having a good day, I suppose."

"It's understandable," Remus comments sympathetically. "After what happened yesterday

with Regulus…"

Sirius reaches out and taps James' arm, drawing his gaze. His eyes are soft now. "It's alright,
mate. We're all pricks sometimes. No shame in it. If you need to have a go, have a go at me,
if anyone. I'll still love you afterwards, I swear it."

"I don't want to have a go. I want to have a good day."

"Well, how can I help? Getting over the strop is usually the first step, so let's get on with that,
yeah? The first—er, the next boyfriend; that's what you were carrying on about. Go on."

"Yeah, him," James grumbles, instantly back to his prickly irritation. "You can't let it be—you
have to make sure it's someone right for him, is all."

"Someone who will respect him," Sirius agrees sagely, nodding his head like he understands.
"Of course, James. I'd run off anyone who wasn't."

"And he has to be—" James searches his brain for what Regulus' next boyfriend has to be.
Nothing comes to mind.

"Nice?" Sirius offers.

"Yeah," James agrees, subdued. "He has to be nice. He has to like snakes. He has to like the
stars, or just be willing to hear about them. He has to remember what books Regulus is
reading and ask about them, because Regulus likes talking about it. He has to make sure
Regulus dresses warmly when it's cold, because Regulus swears the cold doesn't bother him,
but he shouldn't be cold at all."

"These are very specific requirements," Sirius mumbles. "I mean, Merlin, does he have to be
taller than Reg, too?"

"No," James declares. "He can't be taller than Regulus."

"So, he has to be shorter?"

"No, he can't be shorter either."

"The same height?" Sirius tries weakly.

James huffs out a harsh breath. "No, not that either."

"Mate, those are the only options." Sirius stares at him, but James isn't budging on this one.
He can't really explain it, but he doesn't have to, surely? It makes sense to him. "Right, sure,
I'll...keep an eye out. Anything else?"

"He has to like flying. He has to understand Quidditch, because Regulus likes talking about
Quidditch. He has to get on with all of his friends, even if his friends are fucking lunatics and
really mean sometimes."

"And I'm assuming he has to get on with me, too?"

"Absolutely fucking not," James announces harshly, so harshly that Sirius actually rears back
a little bit in surprise, and James feels his chest burning all over again. "He can't be your
friend. I'm your friend. No."

Sirius slowly glances at Remus and Peter, only to see them holding their hands up like they
want no part of this. Blowing out a deep breath, Sirius squints at James. "So, to be clear, I'm
not allowed—sorry, the future boyfriend of my little brother is not allowed to get on with
me?"

"No," James says simply.

"Can we be cordial, at least?"

"No."

"Right." Sirius clears his throat and reaches out to put his hand on James' shoulder, gently
guiding him to sit down on the bed, and then Sirius crouches so they're face-level, both hands
braced on James' shoulders. "James, I know we've never had this talk before, but I think it's
time. It's—it's difficult to come to terms with, I know, but mate…we can have other friends
besides the four of us."

James narrows his eyes. "Not him."

"The future boyfriend that we don't even know yet?"

"Right. He can't have Regulus and you."

"Well, obviously no one has me like you have me," Sirius assures him with a grin and a
wink.

"Yeah?" James mumbles, feeling oddly like he might cry.

Sirius seems to notice. "What? Of course. Bloody hell, how could you doubt it? Come on,
mate, you're irreplaceable. Isn't James irreplaceable?"

"Absolutely," Peter confirms. "There could never be another you. Only one James Potter, you
know, and we all love him."

Remus hums in agreement. "We do. It's true."

"I have such better friends than Regulus," James says, mildly choked up, so fucking
emotional and he doesn't even know why. He reaches up to cover his face with his hands
again.

"Is this their doing, then?" Sirius asks quietly.

James shrugs without dropping his hands. Is he crying? He doesn't even know. "Maybe—
maybe they brought it to my attention that I'm replaceable, and I don't think I'm handling it
very well, if I'm honest."

"Oh, James," Sirius says, releasing a fond laugh, then making a small sound like he feels bad
for laughing. A moment later, Sirius' arms wrap around him. "You're not replaceable, yeah?
Not to those who are lucky enough to have you. I promise. They were probably just being
shits, saying whatever to get under your skin. Why do you think Regulus gets on with them
all so well? Don't look too much into what they say."

"Regulus and I will be alright once we stop dating, won't we?" James asks, drawing back to
stare at Sirius. "I mean, we'll still be close, yeah?"

Sirius frowns. "I don't see why you...wouldn't be? I reckon he has to at least be a little fond of
you at this point, surely. I suspect he'll be happy to be your friend when it's all over."

"Fake," Remus mutters under his breath. "Fake dating."

"Moony, I swear to Merlin," James grumbles, swiveling to glare at him, and Remus
grimaces.

"Sorry."

"I know. You don't have to keep reminding me. It's a small detail; do I have to say it every
bloody time?"

Remus purses his lips. "I'd say it's a rather big detail, actually, but alright. Sorry, I just—you
know how I get. Can't help it."

"Learn to," James grits out.

Sirius swats him on the side of his head again, making him turn towards him, sulking. "What
did I just say about laying off Moony? You can't be angry with him just because he's right."
As soon as James opens his mouth, Sirius holds up a finger. "Ah ah, don't bring me into it. I
get special treatment."

"Do you?" James asks flatly. "Now why is that, Padfoot?"

"Anyway," Sirius says, too loud, his face twitching, "I know we're all a bit—upset after what
happened. It was fucking awful. We're all going to have it rough for a while, so we have to
focus on the positives, yeah?"

James raises his eyebrows. "Who said this to you?"

"Effie," Sirius admits sheepishly.

"Of course she did," James says, his face softening, and some of the tension seeps out of his
shoulders just at the mere mention of his mum.

"Right!" Peter declares, clapping his hands together and popping up from his bed, leaving
Remus sitting on it. They were comparing notes from class. "Well, a positive! I've got one. I
can do the Anti-Alohomora Charm now!"

"Lovely, Wormtail," Sirius declares, popping up with a broad grin. "Show me?"

"It's on my trunk. Go on, give it a go," Peter says, eyes bright.

Sirius moves over immediately, waving his wand and saying, very clear and firm,
"Alohomora." Despite being the best at the unlocking charm, the lock on the trunk remains
fastened, and Sirius beams at Peter. They've been working on it for a few days now, so they're
both pleased. "Fucking brilliant, you are. When'd you get it?"

"Just an hour ago," Peter admits, visibly proud of himself. He grins and nods at Sirius. "Go
on, then. Something positive."

"Hm, Avery and Wilkes faces this morning out on the lake," Sirius says, looking absolutely
delighted, and even James can't help but chuckle. "I don't know who did it, but I'd like to
thank them for it. That was the highlight of my day."

"Oh, is that so?" Peter asks, sounding giddy, and he cackles as he inclines his head
significantly towards Remus.

"What? Remus?" Sirius gasps, whipping towards him. "Did you actually? Was it you,
really?"

Remus' lips twitch. "Peter and I slipped out last night. Had ourselves a little adventure."
"And you didn't take me?" James blurts out in offense.

"You were sleeping," Remus says softly. "We didn't want to wake you, James."

James groans. "I wasn't, though. I was just pretending to!"

"Oh. Well, we didn't know," Peter says apologetically. "You just seemed so sad, and Sirius
was so upset, and what happened to Regulus was so awful, so we… Well, we decided to start
today off with a laugh for everyone."

"Pete, I could fucking kiss you right now," Sirius informs him, practically vibrating with
delight.

Peter chuckles. "But Remus did most of the work."

"Remus, I could fucking kiss you right now," Sirius corrects, still looking like he's about to
start bouncing.

"Do it," Remus says.

Sirius laughs, then chokes and nearly breaks his neck looking over at him, eyes wide.
"What?"

Remus rolls his eyes. "A joke, Padfoot."

"Oh," Sirius wheezes.

"A positive," Remus continues, looking remarkably calm, though James knows his heart must
be racing. "I...don't have a positive. How shocking. Christ, I'm a sad sod."
"No, no, hold on," Sirius protests, nearly tripping over his feet as he rushes over to his bed,
where he promptly lifts up his mattress and digs around beneath it. A moment later, he makes
a triumphant noise and drops his bed before moving back over to Remus, holding out a
chocolate frog with a grin.

"Oh, is this for me?" Remus asks, reaching out to snatch it before Sirius even answers.

Sirius barks a laugh. "Yes, it's for you, Moony. I knew you'd run out, so I saved the last for
you."

"Well, there's my positive decided for me, then," Remus says, but his voice is warm, and he
looks so pleased.

"Reckon that makes you Sirius' valentine," Peter muses, and James jolts, his heart dropping.
The others are oblivious, too busy being flustered as Peter explains about how Remus once
said he'd be happy to be someone's valentine if they got them a chocolate frog, which Sirius
has just done.

On Valentine's Day. Because it's Valentine's Day. Fuck, it's fucking Valentine's Day, and
James forgot. That became so inconsequential compared to Regulus nearly drowning the day
prior. He remembers freaking out about it going right, and that feels so far away now, like it
happened ages ago. So far, all he's succeeded in today is taking a brief nap with Regulus after
crying in his arms. Lovely. How fucking romantic.

"James?" Remus prompts.

Blinking, James looks up, the rushing tides of his mind coming to a slow trickle. "Sorry.
What?"

"I was explaining why I was eating the chocolate frog before," Sirius tells him, eyebrows
furrowed. "Still trying the patronus charm. I think I've almost got the full corporeal. I
managed a shield yesterday before—you know."
"That's brilliant." James smiles and sits forward, trying to focus, trying not to feel sick. He's
always loved Valentine's Day, and now… "Go on, show us, then."

"Don't laugh at me when I don't get it," Sirius mutters, wrinkling his nose as he draws his
wand.

"Can I ask what memory you're using?" Remus murmurs, and Sirius flicks his gaze towards
him, hesitating. "You don't have to tell me, Sirius, it's—"

"The night I left home," Sirius says quietly, and everyone falls silent instantly. "It's not really
—I know it seems unhappy, in a way, but it's also… I mean, that's when I was free."

Remus regards him for a long moment, then ventures, "It doesn't necessarily have to be a
happy memory. Mine's not."

"What's yours?" Sirius asks, then grimaces. "Sorry, you don't have to tell me that,
obviously."

"It's fine," Remus tells him, clearing his throat. "It's a bit ironic, really, but…when you all
found out I was a werewolf. Figured it out, more like."

James blinks. "But you were distraught."

"I know," Remus agrees, snorting. "What I thought was the end of the best part of my life
turned out to be the beginning. More than just you lot eventually making it easier on me
during a full, and having the relief of not having to hide, but also...it didn't change anything.
Not for any of you, and until that moment—that exact moment—I could never be sure that
the best part of my life was real and would stay, if my secret ever got out. But, because of
that, I had confirmation."
"So, you get it?" Sirius murmurs. "That it doesn't necessarily have to be—happy. You
understand?"

"I understand, Padfoot."

"It's the only thing that really works. The closest I've ever come to it. But it's still not…"

"Enough?" Remus prompts.

Sirius heaves a sigh. "Yeah. I don't know why."

"Regulus," James says, knowing it immediately, because he knows Sirius. "That's what's off
about it. I'm sure it'd be enough, but you were leaving him behind too, and you weren't happy
about that part."

"Oh," Sirius breathes out, his eyes lighting up immediately, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
"Regulus. Of course. Not the night I left, but the night he did. James, you're brilliant!" He
stands up straight, releasing a soft laugh of pure amazement, and declares, "Expecto
Patronum!"

They all watch with a bated breath as, almost instantly, with force like it has been fighting its
way out, a blurred form of bright silvery-blue comes darting out of the end of his wand. No
one can really make it out at first, because the very first thing it does is whip around like it
has been dying for the chance to run, and Sirius is laughing so brightly, so breathlessly, that
James can't help but grin and laugh in pure exhilaration right along with him. They're all
grinning.

And then they all fall silent in joint bemusement as, finally, Sirius' patronus slows down to
come to a halt right beside him, sitting on its haunches. Peter blinks, James tilts his head, and
Sirius squints down at it in visible bewilderment.
"Is that...Moony?" Peter asks. He glances at Sirius almost suspiciously. "Did you steal
Remus' patronus?"

"No!" Sirius blurts out, then falters. "I mean...no? I don't think so? It's not the exact same as
Remus'. His is just a wolf."

"Yours is also a wolf," James points out.

"Right, but that's specifically Moony," Sirius says.

Peter snorts. "Remus' is also Moony."

"Nah, his can be just any old wolf. I've claimed Moony for myself," Sirius declares, flashing
a grin at Remus, only for his smile to falter. "Remus? I'm only joking, mate. Obviously yours
can be Moony and mine can be—some other wolf that looks remarkably similar. It's fine.
Two people can't both have the same patronus, so if you really want—"

Remus, who is staring at Sirius' patronus without moving, cuts in to whisper, "Yes, they
can."

"They can?" Sirius asks, startled.

"Yes," Remus says, still just staring at Sirius' patronus with such fixed intensity that James
gets the feeling they're all missing something that Remus is not. Abruptly, Remus' gaze snaps
up and focuses on Sirius.

Sirius, like a reflex, takes a step back. "Remus?"

The chocolate frog, unopened, clatters carelessly to the floor as Remus stands up, and James
nearly drops his gaze, because it feels suddenly like he's intruding on a very intimate and
indecent moment. His curiosity wins out, though, so he sees in full detail how Sirius starts
stumbling back, his chest heaving before anything even happens, and Remus just moves
forward to catch up with him. He has Sirius' face in his hands in a second, then he kisses him
right after.

James' eyebrows fly up, and he breaks out into a grin immediately, hand flying up to cover
his mouth so he won't do something ridiculous like start cheering. Poor Sirius makes a truly
embarrassing noise and tries to surge forward into the kiss with such enthusiasm that he very
nearly stops stumbling backwards at all. Remus, who is apparently on a mission, keeps right
on walking him back until they go tumbling into Remus' bed, falling right through the
curtains. For a moment, their legs stick out, then they slip away.

Sirius' patronus glows brighter, the wolf—Moony?—tossing his head back in a silent howl.
There's a rather loud moan that drifts out to them, one that has James and Peter instantly
sharing a look before they promptly spring up and start rushing around to gather their things
and get out.

James quickly stuffs his bag with the map, his cloak, and his wand, frantically searching
around for anything else he might need, but then he ultimately gives up when he hears Sirius
choke out, "Oh," which spurs him to beat a hasty retreat. There is no misinterpreting that oh.
That's the oh of a person who is discovering a miracle.

As soon as they make it halfway down the staircase, a safe enough distance away, he and
Peter lean on each other and howl with laughter, not stopping until their stomachs hurt.

Peter puts his hand flat against his chest, wheezing, and then mimics, "Oh," and they both
dissolve into laughter again.

"He was—he was running. Why was he running? Just backing up," James gasps out, bending
over to press his hand to his stomach, trying to catch his breath. "He just kept backing up.
Where was he going, Peter?"

"I don't know," Peter whimpers, nearly crying from how hard he's laughing. "I don't think he
knew."
It takes them a bit to calm down, admittedly. They end up leaning against the opposite walls,
breathing hard, willing away the random chuckles that keep rising between them. They can
barely look at each other without being set off again, so James just closes his eyes as he
announces, "Fucking finally, though. Merlin, it's been a long time coming."

"Yeah," Peter agrees. "And on Valentine's Day , too. Oh, we can never let them live this
down. The two least romantic blokes I know, no doubt shagging right now before they even
confess, and their anniversary will be fucking Valentine's Day."

"Shit." James' eyes pop open. "Fuck, how'd I forget again?"

Peter blinks at him, then his face softens. "Mate, with all that's going on, no one would expect
you to be fussed with the holiday. It's alright. I'm sure—"

"I have to do something," James mutters, his brain already starting to work itself. "I—fuck,
I'll—I wanted it to be right, you know, but I—" He shakes his head sharply and exhales
deeply through his nose. "I'll think of something, I suppose."

"You're off, then?" Peter asks curiously.

"Yeah," James says, sighing.

"How long do you reckon I should wait before I go back up?"

"Wormtail, it might be best to take the sofa in the common room tonight. They have a lot of
time to make up for."

"You may have a point," Peter says, chuckling. "Alright, well, I'll see you when you make it
back in, then."
James nods, says, "Yeah, see you, mate," then starts running. There's not a lot of time, and he
suddenly has an idea.

Regulus is sleeping when James sneaks into the infirmary under the cloak. He looks really
quite angelic when sleeping, which James first made note of the night Regulus slept in his
bed. He's just...soft like this. Sweet. James almost can't bear to wake him, but surely an hour
won't hurt.

James draws the cloak down until his head and shoulders appear, then kneels beside the bed
to reach out and gently shake Regulus' arm, whispering, "Wake up, love."

Regulus does, slowly. His lips part around a quiet sigh, his nose twitching rather adorably,
and then his eyes flutter open. For a moment, he's just gazing hazily at James, and his lips
curl up as he groggily mumbles, "Oh. Hello, you."

"Hello, you, too," James replies, smiling.

"Are you actually here?"

"Well, I'm not a dream, am I?"

"Could be."

"I thought I was only a nightmare to you."

"Mm," is Regulus' response, his face splitting into a lazy grin as he turns his head away. Oh,
that's cute. He's so terribly cute sometimes. "Have you snuck in to see me?"
"I've snuck in to whisk you away into the night," James whispers playfully, leaning in to prop
his head up on the side of the bed. Regulus rolls his head back, blinking slowly, just looking
at him. "Will you come with me?"

"Wherever you wish to go," Regulus says, breaking out into a yawn immediately after, his
face scrunching. He reaches up and knuckles at one of his eyes, and oh, stop that. Stop that
immediately. James feels like his chest is about to break itself open. Fuck, that's adorable.
"Wait, I take it back. I am more awake and aware of what I've just agreed to."

"Too late," James tells him, keeping his voice low. "Come on, up with you. We have to sneak
out."

"Have you brought your cloak?"

"I have. I know you think yourself too good for it, but it's necessary for what we're about to
do."

"I don't—" Regulus cuts himself off with a sigh. "You know what? Sure. Budge over, I'm
getting up."

"Sure, sure," James says, quickly shuffling aside.

When they make it out of the castle, and it becomes apparent where they are going, Regulus
comes to a screeching halt, forcing James to bump into him under the cloak. "James, are you
currently leading me into the Forbidden Forest?"

"Might be. What of it?" James mumbles, struggling with this 'traveling under the cloak'
business more than he ever has with anyone. He can smell Regulus' hair, so close to his nose,
and his hands on Regulus' sides—well, his hands are a problem, because they've very
curious, apparently, so the moment he's not carefully monitoring what they're doing, they're
trying to get under Regulus' jumper, get to skin, which makes Regulus hiss at him and swat at
his hands, and James just—he's struggling so much right now, and it's distressing. He's never
had this much trouble before; maybe he and Regulus just aren't made for sneaking around
together, which is sort of a disappointing thought, actually.
"James," Regulus says, sharp and low, and—oops. The hands again. See? James didn't even
realize, didn't even notice, and now he's left a little bereft when quickly slipping his fingers
from under the edge of Regulus' jumper. James wonders if his skin is warm. "What of it, what
of it, are you joking? Potter, it's the Forbidden Forest. For-bid-den. A word that means: don't
fucking go in there, you utter twats."

"Forbidden never stopped me before," James admits, biting his lip as he slips his hands up
with purpose this time. He just genuinely wants to know. One touch, that's all.

"Why is this not shocking?" Regulus asks flatly.

James rucks up the sides of Regulus' jumper, wanting so badly to push his hands underneath
—what do Regulus' hips feel like beneath his clothes? His waist is so… It's just curiosity,
really. James just wants to know. "I rather like forbidden things."

"Do you? Again, why is this not shocking?" Regulus mutters, heaving a sigh. "Beneath my
jumper is a forbidden thing, James Potter, so if you don't remove your hands—"

"Sorry, sorry," James says quickly, lifting his hands away with effort that deserves a fucking
award, actually. Merlin, he's so strong. He really is. "Regulus, I want you to know that, every
day, you test my restraint in every way imaginable. Being with you is a constant study in
controlling one's more base urges."

"And what base urges are those?"

"I couldn't possibly tell you. I fear you'd never look at me the same if I did."

James is only half-joking, and not really joking at all, because it's very true. There's not a
moment where James is with Regulus that he's not fighting to restrain himself from
something. Laughing, arguing, snogging, touching—always something with him, and James
has such poor impulse control, he's come to find out. He's doing his best, and most of the
time he's not managing it by half, or at all, but he's trying so hard. It's just that Regulus funny
and infuriating, and his mouth is pure fucking temptation, and James' hands are—

"James."

"Shit, sorry."

Regulus makes a small sound like he's trying valiantly to cover a laugh and reaches down to
thread his fingers through the backs of James' fingers, holding his hands in place. "What are
you even trying to do?"

"I don't know," James admits honestly, chagrined. "It's just my hands, really. Sometimes
they're like chocolate frogs. Hold onto them for me, would you?"

"Smooth, Potter," Regulus says, huffing out a soft laugh, and James grins at the back of his
head. "Sure, I will. I'll hold them all the way back to the castle, because you've the wrong
Black brother if you think I'm going into the Forbidden Forest."

"Don't you trust me?"

"No farther than I could throw you."

James presses closer, bumping into him to get him walking again. "Oh, but you're strong,
lover. Surely you could toss me quite far if you were determined enough."

"Flattery won't get me into that forest, Potter."

"Mm, and yet you're going, aren't you? I can charm you all the way inside. I can list all the
lovely things about you, all the way from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet."
"Have you ever even seen my feet?"

"I have, actually. You have very delicate ankles."

"Piss off," Regulus mutters, digging his thumbs into each of James' palms, a quick threat of
nails—which, for some reason, makes James grin again. Oh, he's mental. "My ankles aren't
delicate. I would know; Sirius has kicked me in them so often that they'd be shattered by now
if they were."

"Oh, he's just so mean to you, isn't he?" James coos, squeezing his hips, fighting a laugh.
"Poor Regulus Black, teased so mercilessly by his mean bully of a big brother."

"James, are you very fond of your fingers?"

"Er, yes, I'd say so. Why?"

"Because if you'd like to keep them, you'll shut it."

"You're so mean to me."

Regulus hums and leans his head back against James' shoulder, the both of them waddling
slightly to the edge of the forest, shuffling from how closely they're pressed together at the
moment. "You like it."

"Merlin help me, I really do," James confesses with a soft laugh, leaning his cheek over on
Regulus' hair.

"James," Regulus says, sounding more serious now as he slows a bit, leaning back with more
resistance, "I need to know where we're going before I'm going in there, or I'll just say no and
go back in. I'm not actually joking."
Nodding, James presses a quick, distracted kiss to Regulus' temple before straightening up. "I
have a surprise inside. It's not far, and as soon as we break through the treeline, we can light
our path. We're only going to a clearing about two kilometers in, a twenty minute walk at
most."

"So, theoretically, we could run back out quickly."

"We could, yeah."

"I…" Regulus blows out a deep breath and shakes his head slightly. "Gods, the things I let
you talk me into. Fine."

When they do break through the treeline, James starts to pull the cloak off of them, but
Regulus clamps down on it and hisses that he's an idiot for even suggesting it, as their
invisibility is just another line of defense. Helplessly, James swallows a laugh and doesn't
argue, leaving it on them both with bluebell flames bobbing along in front of them, helping
cast light in the oppressive darkness.

James has explored so much of the Forbidden Forest as Prongs that the place doesn't even
bother him anymore, not even under the cover of night, of which he's most used to. He knows
the place too well, especially the depths of it, so he's very calm. Regulus, on the other hand,
is not. He's so tense that James finds himself rubbing soothing circles on his sides and
humming quietly in his ear, which oddly does seem to help.

However, the light in the distance seems to do the most for calming Regulus, especially once
he realizes they're heading right for it. The clearing is lit up in a golden glow, and James,
rather ridiculously, feels his stomach squirm with nerves as they approach it. He's not sure
why it matters so much; they're not even actually dating, for Merlin's sake. It's just—well, he
doesn't really joke about gestures like this. He means them. He always means them, and puts
a lot of thought into them, and that's why it always stung so much when Lily hated it.

"Can I cover your eyes?" James asks.

"For the surprise?"

"Mhm. Just for a few moments."

"I—well, if you must," Regulus mutters, heaving a sigh like he's so exasperated with him.

"I insist," James tells him, lifting his hand to gently cover Regulus' eyes as they get closer.
"Now, mind you, I didn't really have much time, and with everything going on, I may have
forgotten, shamefully enough. Sorry about that. This is all I could really do, and it's alright if
you don't like it; we don't have to stay long. We can go back whenever you like."

Regulus clicks his tongue as James slips the cloak off them, stuffing it into his bag with one
hand as they break into the clearing. "You're not inspiring confidence, James."

"No, I know, but—"

"And what is that sound? Wings? Music?"

James blows out a deep breath, wishing his heart was calmer than it actually is, and he draws
his hand away. Cautiously, he mumbles, "Happy Valentine's Day, Regulus."

He watches warily as Regulus blinks and takes everything in, as he hardly needs to see it
more than he needs to see Regulus' response to it. The sound is wings—the multi-colored
wings of fairies of the forest flitting around, more than happy to put on a show above their
heads. The wood nymphs—lovely things that they are—were also more than happy to perch
up in the lower branches of the trees James charmed to swoop down, singing quietly, as they
enjoy serenading people, especially those they consider of the forest. (James gets on with a
lot of woodland creatures, seeing as he's sort of one himself; most of them find Prongs
majestic and consider him a bit like extended family through some sort of binding of nature.)
As promised, none of them have touched the spread of food from the kitchens in the middle
of the meadow, as tempted as they may have been, but he had to bargain for that by conjuring
shiny things and providing snacks they could have.
It really is pretty, or James had thought so. A small clearing of flowers lit up in a ring of
lanterns with rainbow wings from the fairies darting about above, complete with the soft
background of wood nymphs singing in a language he doesn't actually know, but it's lovely
all the same.

As pretty as it is, it's nothing compared to the sight of Regulus reacting to it. His face tilted
up, lips parting, eyes wide with wonder—and oh, oh, that's exactly the look James has been
hoping for his whole life. It makes James feel like he's won something, like he could punch
the air and run for ages without ever getting tired, a giddy sensation bubbling in his chest. It
has him grinning when Regulus' glances over at him.

"You did this?" Regulus asks, his eyes wide. James nods, biting his bottom lip to try
smothering his grin. "James, how did you even—I mean, wood nymphs? I thought they were
only in France. Where did you even—"

"No, there's a colony here. I didn't conjure any of them, or the fairies," James explains,
excited to. "You'd be surprised what you can find in the forest if you know where to look. I'm
sort of a friend of theirs, and they—well, they don't often get to have parties like this, seeing
as they don't come out of the forest. Can't blame them, really. Witches and wizards would just
take the fairies' wings, and they don't like that, and the wood nymphs here don't sing in
English, nor do they want to. But—but this is a party for them, and they like showing off, so
they might be putting on a bit of a show."

Regulus stares at him. "You're friends with them?"

"Yeah," James says simply, not mentioning that he has an advantage by being able to turn
into a stag.

"Only you, James Potter," Regulus breathes out with a soft laugh, and then his eyebrows tug
together. "Fuck. Fucking shit, it's Valentine's Day. I didn't—I said I'd get you something, but
I…"

"In fairness, you've been a little...busy," James mutters with a grimace, and then he laughs
weakly when Regulus does.
"As if you haven't. James, you didn't have to do this. Merlin, with everything going on…"
Regulus trails off, staring at him, still mystified. That look of wonder hasn't left his face, even
though he's just looking at James now.

James scratches the side of his head, giving him a weak, lopsided grin. "I know, but I wanted
to."

Regulus exhales sharply, the breath seeming to punch out of him, and then—in a move James
doesn't see coming and isn't at all prepared for—he's twisting around to catch James' face,
holding him in place as he rocks forward to kiss him.

Yes, James thinks in delight. Yes, yes, finally, thank Merlin, he thinks in relief. Yes, all of this,
yes, he thinks in pure fucking satisfaction, so triumphant that he's vibrating. If he's really
honest with himself, James is always looking forward to the next time he'll get to feel
Regulus' mouth against his. It's genuinely fucking addicting.

He understands—he really, truly does—that there's no need for them to do it when people
aren't around, when there's no audience, but he's come to the conclusion that he really, really
likes snogging blokes. It is as nice as he thought it could be, even nicer, and he thinks it's
partially just Regulus' fault. He knows he won't be snogging any blokes if Lily sees his
potential, so he likes to think he's making the most of it while he still has the chance. He's not
doing anything wrong, really, seeing as he's no one's boyfriend, and Regulus' mouth… Oh,
Regulus' mouth, Regulus' mouth, Regulus' mouth…

"The—the fairies," Regulus gasps out when he breaks away for air. "It's not—I'm not blurring
lines. There's—"

"Right, right, the fairies," James agrees breathlessly, even if he couldn't care less about
having an excuse. Can't they just snog to snog? James is more than happy to kiss Regulus just
to kiss him, not for any other reason. Why do they need reasons again? Isn't wanting to
enough? Does Regulus even want to?

Regulus seems to really want to, because he goes right back to it once they've clarified that
they have an excuse to. James likes the way he presses closer, the way he pushes into James'
arms, the way his back is arched and his firm grip on James' shoulders. James likes, most
especially, the heat of Regulus' mouth and the drag of his tongue and the hint of teeth. James
likes that he's finally, finally getting to slip his hands under Regulus' jumper, up his back,
hands splayed against the soft curve that he maps the dimensions of eagerly.

James' entire being is just a steady drumbeat of more, more, more. It makes being vertical
seem stupid, and getting horizontal ideal, so he feels like a fucking genius for managing to
get them over to the blanket he has splayed on the ground. They nearly overturn the wicker
basket full of strawberries and squirty cream (because James Potter likes his cliches) when
they stumble their way down. Up above, the fairies laugh at them with the flutter of their
wings.

Regulus is shaking against him, but he's not stopping, and he's not slowing down. He
practically clamors into James' lap, pressing in as close as he can get, and James finds himself
dazed by this. He's never—well, Regulus is always the one pulling away, and he always
respects it, but that's not happening now. Not at all. If anything, Regulus seems like a man on
a mission to crawl inside him, and fuck, James wants to let him in. He'd crack himself open
and shield Regulus safely away inside forever, he thinks.

It's the fact that James knows exactly what's about to happen that snaps him out of it. For
once, for the very first time, James is the one who pulls away. He squeezes his eyes shut and
traps a groan behind his teeth as Regulus' mouth trails, open and wet, along his jaw and down
the side of his throat. Oh, bloody hell, that feels good. Shit, shit, shit.

"Regulus," James rasps, breathing hard. "Regulus, you should stop, love. I know you're—I
mean, you're clearly a little caught up, and—and Merlin knows I'd like to—I'd really like to
—but you...you wouldn't, not really. So, so perhaps—"

Regulus makes a small sound of dissatisfaction, lifting up to press his forehead against James'
as he croaks, "Don't do this to me."

"I'm—I'm doing this for you," James forces himself to say, no matter how much his cock is
yelling at him right now. "You don't actually want me, and you deserve to be with someone
you do want, Regulus. I won't take that from you."

"Fucking hell," Regulus says with a hoarse laugh, like he finds something absurd. He rocks
his head back and forth against James', his chest heaving. "Is that why you haven't shagged
anyone? Saving yourself for Lily?"
"I suppose it is, yeah. Never really thought about it. Like I said, I've snogged girls before, but
it never got that far. It's just that Lily was all I ever wanted," James murmurs.

"Right," Regulus whispers. "Right, of course. That makes sense. You—you should have
brought her out here tonight, you know. It's so—" He cuts himself off, swallowing, then
clears his throat as he leans back. He keeps pushing himself away until he's out of James' lap,
sitting on the ground next to him instead. "It's so lovely, James. It's beautiful."

"Yeah?" James asks, perking up. "You really think so? Maybe, if it all works out, I could
show it to her."

"That's lazy," Regulus mutters.

James blinks. "Sorry?"

"That's lazy," Regulus repeats, lifting his gaze to meet James', something sharp about his
eyes, something dangerous and enticing that, ridiculously enough, makes James want to snog
him again. "Doing for her, or anyone else, what you've done for me is lazy. Won't you think
of me? Will it give you deja-vu?"

"I—well, alright, you may have a point," James admits, his eyebrows furrowing as thinks
about it. He hasn't thought about it, admittedly, but he doubts he could show this to Lily, or
anyone, without thinking of Regulus.

"So you won't."

"What?"

Regulus narrows his eyes at him. "You won't do this with anyone else. Ever."
 "No," James says quickly, somehow sensing that any other answer would be the wrong one.

"Good." Regulus' expression relaxes. "Don't."

"Alright, I won't," James agrees, lifting a hand to gesture around with a broad smile. "This is
all for you, then. Come on, let's eat and watch the fairies. Well, if you want to. If you don't
really want to stay, we can go back in the—"

"No," Regulus interrupts softly, a gentle smile curling his lips, and his eyes are warm now in
the way that James really, really likes. "No, let's stay out here for a bit."

James breaks out into a grin. "Yeah, alright, let's do that."

And so, that's exactly what they do. Talking quietly, laughing softly, curling closer together as
the night wears on and Valentine's Day slips away into the next, but they hardly notice. The
fairies flutter around, the wood nymphs serenade them, and they barely make it back in
before morning.

Chapter End Notes

WOLFSTAR WOLFSTAR WOLFSTAR WOLFSTAR WOLFSTAR WOLFSTAR

WOLFSTAR

the way i was so giddy writing that scene. ive been so excited to share it, you all have no
idea. canonically, we don't know sirius' patronus, and since this is my sandbox to play
in, this is what ive decided it is. as for why peter, sirius, and james didn't know about the
meaning behind same patronuses, but remus did, i don't think it's common knowledge,
though it could be found in books about it, and i think remus would have read it
somewhere probably. also, sirius, where were you going? why were you running???
HELP 😭😭😭

in his defense, if remus lupin were marching towards you like a man on a mission with a

💀
very intense look in his eyes, would you also not get nervous? sirius is so valid for that,
actually. he MEANT he was going to outrun the gay thoughts
also, yay, the queer club is starting!!! not regulus' friends being little shits. that's fair of
them, actually, considering what they know regulus is going through. they're really a few
more moments away from snapping their fingers in front of james' face and being like
WAKE UP YOU IDIOT!!! and i relate to that.

then there's james... 😐 not this fool being an absolute wreck about regulus at all times,
completely obsessed with him, AND pulling off one of the most romantic things in
history and then STILL rejecting regulus when he tried to shag him. he's so strong,
actually. not him thinking part of the reason he likes kissing regulus so much is just
because he's gay! wow, go oblivious king! also, do note the "lily WAS all i ever
WANTED" bc someone is subconsciously being honest without knowing. im aware that
it's frustrating that james hasn't realized, but i PROMISE there's a reason, and it's all
going to make sense later. and then james being like: regulus cant date someone after me
who doesn't meet my impossible criteria, ive cracked the code, and also no i will not
explore this further, thank you, this is a very normal response for me to give

as an aside, fairies and wood nymphs are actually real things in the hp universe and the
little tidbits about them were real. also, not the gryffindors having a bet/contest on who
could get a hug from mcgonagall but they all gave up in fifth year 😭😭😭

ive seen a lot of you asking if this is jily or jegulus endgame. its jegulus endgame and
there will in fact be a happy ending. lily has a very important role in this fic, which we
will see more on later (no lily hate i promise, im in love with her). i want to say more,
but i don't want to spoil, so just be rest assured that i wouldn't lead any of you astray.
just trust the process <3

EDIT: i slightly changed the scene where peter announces he's queer right after marlene,
so it's not something anyone would be able to draw comparisons on between a man and
a lesbian, as this was hurtful to someone who brought it to my attention, which was
never my intention. for that, im sorry. as always, if i ever do anything by accident or
because im not aware of something, don't hesitate to bring it to me! i never want to upset
someone, especially when it's just because ive written something that gotten taken a
different way than i meant it.
 ACT THREE: Part Four
Chapter Notes

warnings for this chapter: a little bit of trauma talk from the events of the drowning
chapter (as well as what happened to barty), boys being a little dumb, and james making
up for the "lily was all i ever wanted" comment <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"Reggie," Sirius hisses.

Jumping, Regulus whips his head towards the side, arching an eyebrow at the sight of Sirius
lurking around the corner, glancing around furtively like he's worried someone might notice
him. No one will. No one's even here.

"What are you doing?" Regulus asks suspiciously, eyes narrowing as he moves towards
Sirius, a touch warily. If this is one of his fucking pranks…

"I'm walking you to your dorm," Sirius mutters, still darting his gaze around. "First day back
out, people are bound to be awful. I just want to make sure you get there, and Barty already
agreed to wait outside for you."

"Alright," Regulus says slowly. He leans back, flicking his gaze over Sirius, his eyes
narrowing yet again. Sirius glances at him, leaning back as well and looking defensive. He
tugs at a strand of his hair and can't seem to be still. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Sirius blurts out, the whites of his eyes showing like an animal caught in a trap.
"What are you on about? I didn't do anything. Why? Do I—fuck, do I look different?"

Regulus raises his eyebrows. "No, you look as ridiculous as always, but you're acting more
stupid than usual."
"Bugger off," Sirius snaps. "I'm not, yeah? I'm—I'm being very normal. I'm acting as I
always do."

"Oh, you've done something, alright," Regulus says flatly, cocking his head and staring
harder. He glances over him again, slower this time, looking for any sign of what it is. Sirius
fidgets under the scrutiny, scowling, and there. Oh. Right there just peeking out of his collar,
only just, a mark. Regulus' gaze snaps up, watching a flush rise to Sirius' cheeks as he averts
his eyes. "You shagged Lupin?"

Sirius' eyes dart back to him. "How did you know it was him?"

"Because you're rather pathetically in love with him?" Regulus replies, and Sirius groans as
he hangs his head forward, turning slightly to press it into the stone wall.

"Did everyone know before me?" Sirius whines.

Unsympathetic, Regulus says, "Think so, yeah. Well, maybe not Remus. He seemed willfully
ignorant to the whole thing."

"With good reason," Sirius whispers, gently banging his head against the wall. "My fucking
patronus is the same as his."

"That can happen?"

"Apparently so. Apparently, when you're in love with someone, or perhaps have an unhealthy
infatuation with them, you will find your patronus forming into theirs, so a word to the wise,
don't go about casting the charm around someone you fall in love with if you don't want them
to know."

"Noted," Regulus mumbles and does, in fact, make a mental note to not do that. "Wait, why
didn't you want him to know?"
Sirius rolls his head to stare at him. "Well, honestly, I didn't really know. How was I to know?
He's—I mean, he's Moony. He's one of my best friends. He's just… I don't know. I sort of
thought everyone looked at him and felt… And, well, I thought I was jealous of him, really,
because he's so bloody amazing, and that's why I bickered with him so much, but I—oh, I'm
fucking mental about him. This is so bad. This is—"

"It's painful talking to you sometimes, you know," Regulus drawls, and he'd probably keep
going and be even worse, but Sirius looks genuinely miserable. Rather ridiculously, it does
tug at Regulus' heartstrings, and also makes him roll his eyes. "I don't understand. What's the
problem?"

"Regulus, I just shagged my best friend," Sirius hisses, his nostrils flaring. "Last night. A lot.
Many times, in many various, unfortunately amazing ways." He makes a small sound like he
might start crying. "There are—oh gods, there are so many ways, Reggie. So many that are so
good. I didn't—"

Regulus' face scrunches as he lifts his hand. "Right, got it. Didn't need to know that, actually.
I'm still not seeing the problem, other than the fact that you felt the need to bring it to my
attention, when I'd genuinely rather not know."

"My best friend," Sirius insists, like this means something. He stares at Regulus almost
wildly. "Don't you think I've been so careful not to—to do this, not fall into anything with
him, not to think about even the hint of such a thing? Because we can't—there's no coming
back from that. It's done. We can never, never, never be what we were, not ever again, and
what happens when I muck it up? What happens when I—" He swallows harshly and looks
away. "It's easier to forgive a friend than it is to forgive someone you love."

"You're not even dating the poor sod and you're already fretting," Regulus muses, and Sirius'
jaw clenches. "Sirius, I think this is one of those cases where you're being sabotaged by your
inner saboteur. You could at least give it a go before you decide it's not even going to work."

"I can't, don't you bloody get that? Are you even listening to me, you twat? I can't try,
because then—if it doesn't work—I'll lose him. I'll—we'll lose each other. All of it will have
changed, and we'll never…" Sirius closes his eyes, looking devastated.
"Have you considered that things aren't what you think they are anyway?" Regulus asks,
arching an eyebrow when Sirius blinks open his eyes, visibly confused. "Can you honestly
say that you two have been just friends, especially since you reached the age where the
mutual desire to shag sort of got in the way of it? Hasn't it already changed?"

Sirius keeps blinking at him.

"Besides," Regulus continues, "if you don't try, you'll change things anyway, possibly
irrevocably, and not in a good way. He participated in the shagging, too, I presume, which
indicates that he has feelings for you. He seems sensible enough not to risk it otherwise, so it
must be love for him as well. Logic says it makes more sense for you to make the effort and
see what comes of it, rather than do nothing. If you try, it could work out very well; if you
don't, it's guaranteed that things will be hard for both of you. Don't be an idiot, Sirius."

Sirius seems to marinate on that for a long moment, and then he squeezes his eyes shut and
groans again. "Oh, I'm so stupid. I snuck out of bed and fucking ran. He must be so… Shit,
he always overthinks so much, you know. I shouldn't have done that. Oh, Reggie, why did I
do that?"

"Because you're pathetic," Regulus says, and Sirius opens his eyes to frown at him. "No, it's
alright. All men in love are."

"Nice to know it's not just me."

"I assure you, it's not. Go on, then. I can find my own way to my dorm. Go back to him.
Maybe tell him you're pathetic about him; that might clear up a few of his concerns."

"Right. Cheers." Sirius pushes away from the wall, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing
it. His eyebrows furrow as he looks at Regulus. "You really will be fine?"

Regulus snorts. "I have to go out on my own at some point. May as well get it over with. I'll
be fine."
"I can stay and go back later," Sirius offers.

"I'd rather you didn't," Regulus says simply.

Sirius purses his lips, but he nonetheless gives in with clear effort not to be an overbearing
git, which Regulus admittedly appreciates. He takes a step back, then pauses and looks at
Regulus for a long moment. "You're really not an awful brother, you know. Sometimes you're
alright."

"I have to go drown myself in the lake now," Regulus replies blandly, and Sirius' spine snaps
straight, head snapping up as he focuses right on him—oh, Regulus will be using that until he
can get Sirius to laugh about it, if he ever does. For now, the only one who laughs is Regulus.
"Ha! You should see your face right now. You look so alarmed!"

"I take it back, I fucking take it back, you're an awful shit of a human being and a brother,"
Sirius hisses, reaching out to wrap his arm around Regulus' neck and yank him down,
roughly dragging his knuckles over Regulus' hair.

"Ow, you utter fucking knob! Piss off, let me go, you wanker!" Regulus yelps, kicking him in
the shin repeatedly, which Sirius seems altogether immune to.

"Oh, is that annoying, hm? Does that hurt, Reggie?"

"Sirius, I swear to Merlin—"

"What are you going to do? You can't even go anywhere. I've got you, so what can you do?"

"Do you really want to find out?"

"Ha! Do your worst, you little—ow! Ouch, Reg, fuck!"

"That's my hair, Sirius!"

"You're about to break my sodding knee!"

"Then let me go."

"You let go first."

"No, you let go first!"

"You—"

Alright, so the stares and whispers Regulus could do without. It's suddenly like starting the
year all over again after being outed to everyone; all eyes are on him, watching him wherever
he goes. Sometimes, despite his own choices he made that led him to this point, he misses
that pocket of time before he ever kissed James Potter where he could mostly go about his
day without anyone really even looking at him.

If he were James, and shockingly found himself alone, he would strut carelessly, casually,
probably whistle a funny tune and wink whenever someone dared to catch his eye. If he were
Sirius, and shockingly found himself alone, he would walk with his head held high,
challenging, flashing sharp grins at anyone who stared too long or outright heckling those
that made the mistake of giving him a dirty look. But he is Regulus, and he's found himself
unsurprisingly alone, and so he walks tall and purposeful with his a spine made of iron, his
face blank and eyes cold, arching an eyebrow at the people who don't look away quickly
enough.

And then, "Hello."

Regulus blinks, startled. "Oh. Hello, Melanie."

"Nice to see you out and about again." Melanie gives him a small, warm smile. "So, I was
thinking, some time before the Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor match coming up, you and I
could find a slot for the pitch. Do you care for it?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Regulus says, amused by her tenacity.

Melanie's face lights up. "Excellent! Could I bring my friend? He wants to try out for Chaser
next year when the position opens up. I know you're not a Chaser, but your boyfriend is, and
surely you could teach him something cool."

"Is that the only requirement you have? Something cool? You're obsessed with cool things,
you know."

"Well, yeah. It's bloody cool, Regulus."

"You know, by the time you reach my age—"

"You're three years older than me!"

"Yes, and those three years are full of development, trust me. Like I was saying, by the time
you reach my age, cool stops being as important as you think it is," Regulus tells her.

"I can't imagine you ever caring about being cool, or cool things," Melanie admits.

Regulus purses his lips. "Yeah, alright, that's true. I never did."
"That's probably why you're so cool," Melanie says wistfully, releasing a deep sigh.

"Oh, sure," Regulus replies with a soft laugh, not actually meaning to, but she brings it out in
him. She's just—young, and he simply likes her as a person. Her shameless admiration
warms him as well, leaves him helplessly fond of her, despite the fact that he knows she has
him all wrong.

"You don't have to talk about it, you know. I won't ask. But you are alright, yeah?" Melanie
murmurs as they turn a corner, her head swiveling so she can look up at him.

"I'm alright," Regulus replies, because he could be bleeding out before her, and he would still
tell her that he was fine, just so she wouldn't worry. That's what fondness for those younger
and more impressionable does to someone, he supposes.

Melanie nods, satisfied. "Well, good enough. I'll tell Gio that he can come. He's obsessed
with your boyfriend, you know."

"Is he?" Regulus' lips twitch. Who isn't, honestly?

"Not in a gay way, I don't think," Melanie muses. "More like in a Quidditch way. He's always
banging on about how brilliant of a Chaser James is, but I can't really have a go at him for it.
I do the same thing about you. Seeker to Seeker, that's all it is."

Regulus chuckles. "That's alright. I was like that about the last Gryffindor Seeker, before she
graduated. Didn't ever talk to her, or about her, but I'd analyze how she played."

"Who was it? I don't remember."

"You would have been in your first year; I was in my fourth; she was in her seventh. Alice
Fortescue. James said the whole team cried when her and her boyfriend, the Captain,
graduated. With good reason, too. They were good, but to me, she was the best. Never seen a
Seeker play like her. I got to actually play against her."
"Did she win?" Melanie asks, grinning.

"She did. I had to pretend I wasn't excited, of course, but it was…" Regulus shakes his head,
his heart racing just at the memory. "I think I nearly fell off my broom because I was too busy
watching her."

"She didn't go professional?"

"Mm, no, not that I know of. I think she and her boyfriend went on to become aurors."

Melanie's eyebrows tug together. "Do you stop loving Quidditch when you stop playing it?"

"No," Regulus murmurs, because he would know. He's a little fond again, just by the way the
world of problems seems so small to those that are younger. For Melanie, losing a love for a
favorite sport is one of the worst things imaginable; Regulus, who is older and has found a
wider world with more to wrestle with, knows how inconsequential a problem like that really
is. Doesn't make her reality any less impactful, though. Her problems will get bigger as she
does, inevitably, but that doesn't mean her problems now aren't problems at all.

"I don't think I want to go professional," Melanie muses, frowning slightly. "I don't know
what I'd like to do, but I don't think I want Quidditch to be a job. I think I'd love it less."

"Understandable," Regulus agrees. "You have time. Bloody hell, take your time while you
still have it."

"You act like you're an old man," Melanie says, giggling, and Regulus sighs wearily, because
sometimes he honestly feels like one. "What do you want to do, then?"

"Make it to graduation," Regulus replies, wry, and his lips curl up when Melanie laughs
again.
"Only one more year to go after this one. Really, you've done most of the work now,"
Melanie tells him, slowing down as they approach yet another corner.

Regulus glances in the direction she's looking. "Go on, then. You have somewhere else to
be."

"I do," Melanie says with a sigh, wrinkling her nose. She does inevitably smile at him,
though. "I'll see when the pitch is free and let you know."

"Alright." Regulus offers her a final nod and they split off.

Five minutes later, Clive falls into step next to him with a quiet, solemn, "Hello."

"Hi," Regulus replies with a sigh.

"So, my boyfriend—well, he was never my boyfriend, actually, as it turns out—broke things

off with me," Clive informs him, as if they've been friends for years. "Yesterday, on
Valentine's Day. Can you fucking believe that?"

Regulus blinks. "Oh. That's...cruel."

"I know!" Clive bursts out, then quickly settles down, his shoulders slumping. "We shagged
for five months, consistently, and I wasn't supposed to think anything of it? He told me he
loved me, for Merlin's sake. Am I mental? Am I the mental one in this scenario, Regulus?"

"Um."

"And the worst part—the worst part is, he left me for a fucking girl. He doesn't even like—I
mean, fucking hell, I wasn't even pressuring him to be...public, you know. I was fine being us
in secret, but it's still being unfaithful. The same rules still apply, don't they? They do for
me."

"I'd say the same rules apply as any other relationship, whether or not it's a secret one, yes,"
Regulus mumbles.

Clive snaps his fingers and points at him. "Yes, thank you, exactly. And—and alright, so we
never actually talked about it being a relationship, but like I said, he told me he loved me. I
mean, what would you do, if it was James?"

"James wouldn't," is Regulus' immediate response.

"Right, but if he did—"

"No, literally, he wouldn't. James is the most loyal creature on this planet. He'd never be
unfaithful. If he's in a relationship with someone, he wouldn't be with anyone else."

"Oh, lovely," Clive complains. "That's not helpful. Because all I'm getting at the moment is
that I've just wasted five bloody months on a fucking prick."

Regulus clears his throat. "Sounds like it."

"You're not helping me feel better."

"I wasn't aware that I was meant to."

"Well, could you, actually?" Clive asks miserably.

"You're not stupid for wasting your time," Regulus offers, turning his gaze to his shoes. "It
felt good, and you were happy, and that's not… Despite the ending, that's not a waste."

Clive is quiet for a long beat, and Regulus glances over to see him staring. Softly, he says,
"That did make me feel better, actually, thank you."

"You're welcome," Regulus murmurs.

"I did learn a lot," Clive muses, his lips tugging up at the corners, but his eyes are still sad.

Regulus hums. "Lessons learned and all that. Maybe next time you'll know what to look out
for."

"I was talking more about the shagging bits, but yeah, sure," Clive says, flashing a more
genuine grin at him.

"That could help you next time as well," Regulus points out, then looks up. "Right, this is me.
I'm going to the dungeons."

"Yeah, sure," Clive replies. "Thanks for…"

"Don't mention it," Regulus cuts in, then walks away.

"Oi, Regulus!" Clive calls after him, and Regulus briefly turns back, eyebrows raised. "I'm
glad you're alright."

Regulus just nods, then turns around and, once again, walks away. He finds that he's not far
off from his dorm at all now, and he's missed a big chunk of all the whispers and staring. It
takes him a long moment to realize that maybe that was the point. He's surprised by it, by the
solidarity shown by two people who don't necessarily have to put forth the effort. It warms
him and makes him calmer as he carries on.
Even still, Regulus feels all of the tension seep out of his shoulders the moment he sees Barty
waiting outside of the common room entrance, scratching the side of his head with the tip of
his wand because he's a fucking lunatic.

"How many times have I told you not to do that?" Regulus mutters as he walks up, and Barty
jumps slightly, exhaling sharply as his eyes dart to him. Some of the tension returns to
Regulus' shoulders. "Alright?"

"Yeah," Barty mumbles, clearing his throat. He flashes a grin that's too wide and a little feral
from the effort. "Just lost in thought, I suppose. Ready to go in?"

"Sure," Regulus says quietly, and they do.

Avery, Wilkes, and Snape are all inside; this means that he and Barty stare at them as they
walk past. Avery clenches his jaw, Wilkes flexes his fingers around his wand, and Snape rolls
his eyes before looking back down at his book. The tension is so thick that Regulus thinks he
could reach out and touch it.

Nonetheless, nothing happens. Regulus doesn't doubt they all got the same threat of
expulsion that he did, because, apparently, endangering the lives of other students by popping
them into the lake is grounds for that sort of thing. He'd looked Dumbledore dead in the eyes,
and oh so blandly announced, "Oh, I had no idea. There's no official rule."

They made the rule after that.

In any case, Regulus just has to make it through the rest of this year, and then Avery and
Wilkes will be gone. They're primarily the problem, and Mucliber was always quicker about
starting things anyway, so Regulus likes his chances of making it through without further
issue. Besides, there are other ways to defend himself that are equally as humiliating and
traumatizing as popping someone into the lake, not that he expects to ever do it again. He
knows what it feels like now, that panic and pain; he was ignorant to it before, and never can
be again. Maybe it was karma. Alright, lesson learned.
The first thing Regulus does when he makes it into the dorm is move over to Zar's tank. He
likely didn't realize that Regulus was gone, seeing as he's a bit of an idiot, but he's their idiot,
so Regulus isn't fussed. It's nice anyway, getting to slip his hand in and feel Zar's scales coil
around his arm, hear the familiar hiss, and dodge the strike of hello. It's a rather violent strike
as well, so maybe Zar did miss him after all.

Barty is unnaturally quiet. It's always a bit quieter in the dorm without Evan, but that sort of
solemn quiet that comes from missing someone, the additional noise they've known and come
to expect since they were eleven. That's not to say that he and Barty can't get on without
Evan there, because they can and do, but it's the unspoken carved out silence where they
know Evan should be filling it.

This quiet is different. Heavier. Regulus isn't quite ready to face it yet, so he spends a few
more minutes with Zar, trying to prepare himself for the necessary talk that's about to come.
He eventually realizes that he won't ever be ready, but he can't keep putting it off, so he
closes the tank and turns.

"Oh, I hate this already," Barty mutters.

"You had a moment," Regulus says, moving over to sit down on the end of Barty's bed, legs
crossed and elbows on his knees as he folds his hands under his chin. "Out in the hall, before,
when I walked up. You had a moment."

Barty wrinkles his nose. "I did, didn't I? A small one."

"It's fine," Regulus offers.

"It makes me want to gouge my eyeballs out."

"Yeah, I get that."

"I'm paranoid now," Barty complains dramatically, like this is a fate worse than death. "Do
you know how exhausting it is to suffer from constant vigilance?"

Regulus clears his throat. "I… Well, yeah, a bit. I had to be that way in my house, and it
never really goes away; that feeling like you have to, I mean. It's—you get used to it, I
suppose. Find some comfort in it, even, after a while. I always felt like it made me sharper,
but then again, I never really knew what it was like to...not be."

"Well, I feel stupid," Barty grumbles.

"You're not stupid. Well, no more than usual. You're not stupid about this," Regulus clarifies.

Barty heaves a sigh and reaches up to rub his fingers over his forehead, eyes drifting shut.
"It's strange, you know. Gaining new fears this late in life. Usually, that gobshite sets in when
you're a child; spiders, heights, and the like. You reach this age, and you're not supposed to
discover new things to be afraid of. Because, by now, you know more about the world and
how shit it is, and you can't go on being afraid of everything, or you'll never live at all."

"Well, these are extenuating circumstances, to be fair. I never had a fear of water, but I still
haven't taken a shower yet. Just making it on charms at the moment. I hate it, and I know I'll
have to eventually, but it's still…" Regulus trails off with a grimace. If it was anyone else, he
wouldn't admit to this, but it's Barty, and Barty was there, and Barty understands.

"It's fucked," Barty says quietly, dropping his hand. "And, for me, I can't even—it's such a
hard thing to even explain. How would I explain that? I'm terrified of body-binds? It sounds
so fucking stupid, Regulus. It is stupid. I'm on edge like someone might drop me at a
moment's notice."

"It's been two days, Barty," Regulus tells him. "They fucking froze you in place where you
couldn't do anything, then had me kick you in the face, then drugged you. It's not stupid."

"Snape didn't even administer it, you know," Barty says, his lip curling. "He slipped off after
you, apparently to go find Slughorn. Just left his mates there with me, and the first thing they
did was come over and kick me like I was a toy. It was Avery who came up with the bright
idea to use the draught; they knew Snape had a vial in the dorm. Wilkes went to get it, and
Mulciber put the drops in. They left me there, and then it was like I blinked and woke up in
the Hospital Wing."

Regulus presses his lips into a thin line. "They all deserve to burn. They've given me the
violent urge to set them on fire."

"The worst part is that I couldn't do anything for you," Barty says, his eyes fluttering open,
and he looks apologetic. The sight makes Regulus' heart twist sharply in his chest. "I was
bloody screaming my head off in my mind, fucking hoping they'd just leave me there, let
someone find me. They couldn't hear me, but I was making deals like a true politician; my
father would have been proud. I was promising them my silence, my fucking servitude if they
wanted it, if they'd just let me go stop you. I thought—the last thought I had before I was
under was that you were going to die, and it'd be my fault."

"Barty, how the fuck would it have been your fault?"

"Because it was me. It started with me and my big fucking mouth. If I would have never had
a go at Mulciber—"

"Oh, spare me," Regulus cuts in harshly, and Barty scowls at him, lips pursing into a pout.
"Don't you fucking start. You didn't put a wand to Mulciber's head and make him do all that
he did. Yeah, you have a big mouth, and I'm the prick who popped someone into a lake. I
could blame myself for what happened to you, if you like."

"No," Barty says with a sigh. "No, I'd rather you didn't."

"Then you can't either," Regulus retorts.

Barty huffs, but he gives a sharp nod, and Regulus watches some of the tension drain out of
him. "This is all shit."
"Yeah, it is," Regulus agrees. He props his cheek over on his fist and smiles softly when
Barty looks at him. "It'll pass."

"Oh, is that your brilliant brand of wisdom, Black? It'll pass? That's supposed to help?" Barty
asks, laughing.

Regulus shrugs one shoulder lazily. "That's all I've got, if I'm honest. It won't always be this
way. We'll, you know, get over it at some point, as much as anyone can with these things. I'll
take a shower; you'll learn to relax again. It'll pass."

"But not really," Barty murmurs. "Not fully."

"No, probably not," Regulus admits, "but we'll learn to live with it just like we do all the
other shit things in the world."

Barty hums. "Wish we didn't have to."

"Me too." Regulus unfurls one leg to bump his shin into Barty's knee. "You're alright, you
know. You can have moments. We'll only mock you a little."

"Cheers, Reggie," Barty deadpans, but his lips curl up, and his eyes are soft. "You should
probably go take a shower now."

"Piss off, I'll do it tomorrow."

"Yeah, alright."

Regulus scoots down and to the side, laying out on Barty's bed, blowing out a deep breath.
Barty gazes down at him, pulling lazily at a loose thread on his duvet. Neither of them say
anything for a while, and somehow, that helps just as much as all the talking they've done.
This is the good kind of quiet. The healing sort. Comforting.
It's relaxing not having to deal with expectations. Neither of them have to do anything, or be
anything, when it's just them. There's no sense of obligation to reassure one another that
they're perfectly fine and have no lingering issues, because they were both there, and they
simply get it. Awful as it is, Regulus is grateful that they at least have each other.

"It's strange that we're meant to just go about our lives now, like it wasn't…" Barty snorts and
shakes his head. "Like, there are still other things going on. Isn't that fucking mad?"

"Mm, well, if I've learned nothing else, it's that life won't clear its schedule for you to adjust
to new traumas," Regulus says, flicking his fingers in irritation. "The world keeps on
spinning and all that trot."

"Rather rude of it, if you ask me." Barty plops his chin in his hand. "Must be worse for you,
really. You have all this with Potter to deal with as well."

Regulus groans and flings his arm over his eyes rather dramatically. "Oh, don't bloody remind
me."

"Talked to him a bit yesterday, you know. You were still in the Hospital Wing, and he stopped
by to talk to all of us."

"Really? What for?"

"Oh, there's some sort of queer club forming. I'm sure he'll give you all of the details. I think
Evan broke his heart a bit, pretending not to have a massive friend-crush on him."

"Overcompensating now, is he?"

"Called him Potter and insulted him for breathing, so I'd say so. He's embarrassed, Reg,"
Barty says with a stifled laugh.
"James will win him over. It's what he does."

"He is irritatingly hard to dislike, isn't he?"

"He's gotten you as well now?" Regulus asks, lifting his arm so he can arch an eyebrow at
Barty.

Snorting, Barty raises one shoulder in a shrug. "It's unclear. I don't think he likes me very
much, and I think I enjoy riling him up too much. He's so easy to mock when it comes to
you."

"What did you do?"

"Oh, nothing, really. Well, first, I dumped Zar in his lap. He screamed and tossed him away."

"Did he actually?" Regulus blurts out, abruptly laughing as Barty breaks out into a grin. It's a
bark of laughter, a rare occurrence where he can hear Sirius in his own voice.

"He did, yeah, but he ended up calming down and petting him. He thinks we're all raging
lunatics for having a pet snake, as if he doesn't technically have one," Barty tells him, a
teasing glint in his eyes as he waggles his eyebrows at Regulus.

Regulus swats him on the knee. "Shut it."

"Anyway," Barty continues, lips curled up, "I might have just casually mentioned our deal.
You know, the one where we'll settle together at twenty-five if we have no one else. He didn't
much like that, even told me I couldn't have you. Why, Reg, your boy is a possessive thing,
isn't he?"
"An act," Regulus reminds him.

Barty hums thoughtfully. "I'm not so sure that it is, honestly. Anyway, I went on to remind
him that there would be others besides him, should you two not last. Of course, he doesn't
know that we know that you two aren't planning to last, but it seemed to get under his skin
authentically, in any case. He stomped off in a strop."

"Why are you all so set on terrorizing him?" Regulus mutters, but he heaves a sigh. "Well, I'll
let it go this time."

"Angry with him, are you?" Barty's eyebrows raise.

Regulus gives him a flat look. "Barty, he snuck me out last night and did quite possibly the
most romantic thing anyone has ever done in history. He fucking took me to a meadow lit up
with lanterns, and there was fairies flying about, and he somehow got wood nymphs to
serenade us, and—and he fed me strawberries and squirty cream, like right from his fingers."

"Oh, Reggie," Barty says solemnly, like he's watching a friend take a deadly blow in the
midst of battle.

"I know," Regulus replies, practically whining. "I—I tried to shag him. He stopped me."

Barty's eyebrows fly up. "He stopped you? You? Merlin and Morgana both, he must have
stones made of metal. Oh, he's a strong man, and a stupid one. I'd never."

"I appreciate that, thank you," Regulus tells him, wry, and Barty grins. "But, listen to this, the
reason he stopped me is, ironically enough, because he refused to take my first time shagging
someone away from me, seeing as I should—" He lifts his hands to make quotation marks,
his expression flat and his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm, "'be with someone I actually
want'. Isn't that just so kind of him?"
"Oh, Reggie," Barty echoes from earlier, this time sounding a mixture of amused and
pitying.

Regulus huffs and drops his hands. "And obviously I couldn't tell him that I did want him,
because he can't fucking know that, so yes, I am angry with him. And I'm—I'm—"

"Randy?" Barty suggests with a wicked smile.

"I almost died. This apparently has given me a very persistent desire to shag," Regulus
mumbles. "Why can't he just—just be a little less honorable, just about this one thing? Oh,
he's fine with touching me all the fucking time and snogging me at every available
opportunity, but shagging is too far? He's such a—he's so—he's just fucking—"

"Awful?"

"Yes! He's awful. And a bastard. And a cunt."

Barty's lips twitch. "You want him so badly."

"So badly," Regulus complains, squeezing his eyes shut. "And the worst part? He could stop,
because he doesn't actually want me. No, in his own words, Lily Evans is all he's ever
wanted."

"That's just—not even plausible, though," Barty protests, and Regulus opens his eyes to stare
at him. "That's bollocks. He wants you. The way he drools after you, there's no possible way
he doesn't, Regulus, I'm telling you. I'm not joking; he pants after you like a fucking dog."

"He doesn't want me," Regulus murmurs. "He just finds me beautiful. It's not the same."

"After all this time, it can't be just that." Barty sighs when Regulus presses his lips into a thin
line. He shifts and lays down next to him, on his side right across from him, still scanning
Regulus' face. "It's a shame if that's true. I didn't really think he'd be that shallow, if I'm
honest."

"He's not. It's complicated."

"You're complicating it. Why are you complicating it?"

"I'm not," Regulus whispers, swallowing.

"You are." Barty's gaze flicks over his face more insistently, and then his eyebrows furrow.
"Do you love him?"

A lump forms in Regulus' throat immediately, and he blinks harshly. He doesn't even need to
say anything, apparently, because it becomes instantly clear that his face tells it all. Barty
sighs sadly, and Regulus rasps, "I'm so stupid."

"You walked right into it. Darling, why did you do that?" Barty asks quietly, reaching out to
gently brush the pads of his fingers over Regulus' cheek.

"I don't know," Regulus chokes out. "Barty, what am I doing?"

"Drowning yourself in James Potter. Surely you know it's not good for you. Tell me you
know that now."

"But I don't want to stop."

"It's unhealthy, Regulus. I can't believe I'm the one telling you this, but it is. You deserve
better than this."
"The problem is, I don't want less than this."

Barty clicks his tongue and runs the tip of his finger down the line of Regulus' nose, tracing
his features. "That may be so, but the reality is, there isn't anything less than nothing. You
deserve something real. You deserve more."

"I love him," Regulus breathes out, his voice thick.

"It'll pass," Barty says softly.

Regulus' face twists, and he ducks his head forward as his eyes burn, his chest feeling like it's
collapsing in on itself. Barty's hand cups his jaw, then slips around the back of his head to tug
him forward, letting him press his face against his chest as he cries rather helplessly. Oh, he
hates it, but he can't help it. There's nothing to be done about it, and Barty is lovely about it,
resting his chin on the top of Regulus' head and holding him. Regulus wants, rather fiercely,
to be in love with him instead, but it's too late. It's James. It's just James.

It'll pass, Barty had said, but oh, Regulus doesn't think it will. The sad part is, he doesn't even
want it to.

"Oi, Baby Black!"

Regulus sort of hates that his head snaps up instantly. He slows to a halt, a tight clench in his
chest as he watches Mary, Lily, and Remus approach him. He knows it would be rude to just
turn around and march away, but he's so very tempted.

"Yes?" Regulus asks, arching an eyebrow.

Remus squints at him. "Is that my jumper?"

"Yes," Regulus repeats.

"How did you—" Remus halts, then holds up his hand, shaking his head. "No, sure, fine. I
don't even want to know."

"What do you want?" Regulus says, flicking his gaze between them as they draw closer.

"Could we get your help with something?" Mary smiles at him as she halts across from him
with the others. "Sirius said you might have a little more insight than most. Something about
a phase where you were obsessed with magical intent; oh, and apparently you've read books
from the Black library that no one outside the family has ever seen before."

"We're going to the library, too," Lily adds, gesturing towards the door they're all obviously
heading towards. "Do you mind if we join you? We won't take up too much of your time."

Regulus sighs.

They take up too much of his time, but he's so invested in the topic that he doesn't actually
mind. Hours later finds him at the table sitting next to Remus, books spread out all around
them, parchment absolutely everywhere, and there's at least two ink-pots overturned. Mary
has ink stains on her fingers, Lily has three paper-cuts that keep making her hiss, and Remus'
hair is fluffy and haphazard all around his head from where he's ran his fingers through it
repeatedly. Regulus isn't near a mirror, but he's sure he looks as intense and frazzled.

"I'm telling you, that's not how it works," Regulus hisses, jabbing his finger down on an open
book repeatedly.

Lily's eyes narrow dangerously. "Well, why the fuck not?"

"Do we know? Is there any way to actually know?" Remus mutters, reaching across the table
to snatch the quill out of Mary's afro and frantically write something down.

"Magic isn't about logic," Regulus says. "There's no sense to it, not really. It's beyond
reason."

"So, let me get this right, yeah?" Lily leans forward on her elbows to stare him down in
challenge. "You're saying there's no possible way that any bit of magic can sense this about
someone? It can turn fucking animals into inanimate objects, but this isn't possible? Really?"

Regulus huffs. "Magic creates, or it destroys, or it alters; that's what it does. It doesn't
investigate. It doesn't care to."

"Then explain revealing magic. Things like—"

"Revelio? That's altering. Taking something concealed and making it—not."

"Veritaserum, then?" Lily asks, waving a hand. There's a beat of uncomfortable silence as that
all catches up with them, Mary and Remus lifting their heads and Lily seeming to realize why
that was a problematic question. Oh, please, as if Regulus cares about that at this point. So
much has happened since his mother drugged him that it's laughable now.

"A potion," Regulus tells her, rolling his eyes. "Potions and magical objects do not apply to
the same rules, because they're created by people who do not follow the same rules."

Lily's face instantly lights up. "Brilliant, Regulus! So, you're saying we could theoretically
come up with a potion—"

"We could, but it would take years, most likely, and good luck getting anyone to drink it,"
Regulus cuts in.
"Oh, fuck off," Mary complains, snapping a book shut.

"What about an object, then?" Lily tries.

"We could," Regulus says yet again, "but that would only reveal if someone is queer, not
grant only those that are the ability to actually read the invitation, and to be completely
honest with you, that's...not right."

Mary frowns. "What?"

"Revealing these things about someone. It's not—it isn't an accessory, or a personality trait.
For some, they don't know or aren't sure or don't want to know, and how is it any of our
business?" Regulus asks, and they all stare at him. "Just—take it from someone who had it
forcibly revealed, it's wrong, and as tantalizing as this conversation is, I won't help."

"Regulus, don't go," Lily says quickly. "No, you're right. Of course you're right, and that's not
—we only want to provide a safe space for people and give them the opportunity to be
themselves. But you're right."

"It's supposed to be inclusive," Remus murmurs. "For those in need of it, wherever they may
fall under the umbrella of being queer. What if—what if we didn't reveal it, didn't even know,
and only they knew and could decide for themselves?"

"How?" Regulus challenges.

Remus abruptly leans forward. "Wait. Wait, we agreed earlier that magic bends to the will of
the caster, guided by their intent, didn't we?"

"We did," Regulus confirms.

"So, it's like...I hit you with a tickling charm, yeah?" Remus continues slowly, like he's
working the problem, and they're all hanging off his every word. "It's my intent that decides if
it'll be harsh or soft. If my intent is to change the invitation to reveal itself only to those who
are queer and masquerade itself to others, then it would have to bend to my will, wouldn't
it?"

"Theoretically, yes," Regulus admits, "but there's not a spell for that. I mean, you're not
wrong, but it doesn't exist."

Lily leans forward, eyes sparkling. "What if we invented it?"

"Spells obey the rules, though. Create, destroy, alter. How are we going to invent a spell
under the constraints of those rules?" Regulus asks.

"Altering perception," Lily shoots back, practically bouncing in place. "It's not about
revealing someone is queer. It's about altering the perception of the invitation to queer
people."

Mary squints. "How will the magic know?"

"That's not the part that matters," Regulus tells her. "Like I said, magic isn't about logic.
Lily's right, that would work."

"Yes!" Lily blurts out, banging her hands on the edge of the table as she beams at him. Mary
chuckles, looking fond, and Lily reaches out to grab her arm, leaning over to sway them both
a bit in her excitement. "It's going to work, Mary."

"I believe you," Mary replies, amused.

Lily makes a breathless noise and practically collapses back into her chair. She looks around
at everyone. "Alright, so how do we invent a spell? Does anyone know how to do that?"
"Well, I've never done it, but surely it can't be that difficult? Someone had to start somewhere
to give us all the spells that we use," Remus points out. "Based on history, I'd say we start by
finding the Latin words that sort of fit."

"That's so limiting, you know," Regulus mutters. "There's such a thing as magic in other
languages. It's just that Latin is a language more rooted in magic, that's all."

Mary looks thoughtful. "Do you reckon that's why Muggles think it's a dead language?"

"It sort of is, isn't it?" Lily muses. "I mean, we don't exactly use it outside of spells, do we?"

"That's true, but it is used," Remus says.

Regulus frowns. "Do Muggles really think it's dead?"

"Yeah," they all confirm at once, and that's precisely when it hits him that he's sitting at a
table with two muggle-borns and a half-blood. He doesn't really think in terms such as that
anymore, but he used to. He was taught to. If only his mother could see him now. The
thought amuses him, honestly.

"What's the word for queer in Latin?" Mary asks curiously.

"In ancient times, and ancient languages, there lacked a concept of sexual orientation. Back
then, in Athens, it was considered normal for men to be with both men and women sexually
while traditional marital relations remained socially central," Lily tells them. "So, unless we
want to invent a new word in a semi-dead language…"

"Well, what is being queer?" Remus murmurs, and they all stare at him. "I just mean, it's
not… It's not actions, or choice. It's something we're born with, isn't it?"
"I certainly didn't decide to be gay," Regulus grumbles, then grimaces when this earns him
three sympathetic looks.

"I think it's about—about freedom of the soul," Mary announces, taking a deep breath.
"You're right, Remus, it's something that's—that's individual to us, but can bring us together,
and there's a freedom in being who you are."

"Animorum libertas," Regulus says softly. They look at him, and he clears his throat. "The
freedom of the souls."

"Anima," Lily repeats quietly. "I've read that in books about healing, specifically surrounding
the topic of asphyxiation."

"It can also mean life and breath," Regulus explains.

Lily's face softens. "Oh, that's lovely. Because it's—I mean, it's like we're offering a place for
people to live as themselves and breathe where it's safe."

"That's it," Mary declares. "Now, how do we put the magic behind it to get it to work?"

They all fall silent.

An hour later, they're even more frazzled than they were before. Lily has been briefly turned
into a duck, though she's changed back now. The bottom part of Remus' jumper has
disappeared, leaving it cropped halfway up his stomach, and Regulus refuses to stare,
because he's not going to appreciate the bloke his brother is (possibly) dating; he fucking
refuses, even if it's hard, because Remus is unexpectedly defined beneath his jumpers. Mary's
hair is a vibrant blue that would likely look ridiculous on anyone else, but she somehow
makes it look good, and she's not fussed to turn it back yet.

Regulus keeps hiccuping song lyrics, but the only song he can fucking remember is that
David Bowie one he honestly could never forget, so he's just randomly blurting out lyrics to
Moonage Daydream, much to the amusement of the others, as well as Remus' visible delight.
At least he's not forced to sing, and evidence suggests he'll eventually stop.

"I don't think—" Regulus hiccups, immediately scowling as lyrics interrupt to fall out of his
mouth. "Keep your electric eye on me, babe. Put your ray gun to my head." He halts there,
thankfully, rolling his eyes as Remus grins at him and Mary and Lily laugh softly. "As I was
saying, I don't think we're going to get it. Not today, at least. We need to read more about the
creation of spells before we keep trying."

"I can get into the restricted section, you know," Lily whispers, leaning in and raising her
eyebrows.

"That might actually be helpful," Regulus admits.

"How are you going to do that?" Mary asks.

Lily shrugs, self-satisfied. "Oh, I have a permission slip from Slughorn that he gave me in
fourth year. I still use it if anyone asks what I'm doing there. Works every time."

"Naughty girl," Mary teases, reaching out to tug playfully on a strand of Lily's hair.

They're all interrupted rather abruptly by the loud slam of a book down on the end of the
table, making them all jerk back and whip around to see Sirius bracing his hands by the book,
grinning at them as he demands, "What are you lot doing?"

"Regulus?" James asks, looking startled, poking his head around Sirius' shoulder to blink at
him.

Regulus ignores him, because he loves him, and he wants to shag him, and it's all his fault.
The prick.
"We are on a mission, and we will not be interrupted by either of you," Remus says,
narrowing his eyes. "Go away."

"Maybe we could help," Sirius offers, raising his eyebrows.

"Be nuisances, more like," Lily corrects dryly.

James clicks his tongue and leans forward beside Sirius. "Well, that's not fair. We could
definitely help."

"Really?" Mary challenges. "How?"

"First, we're going to force you all to take a break. You've been at it for hours, you do
realize?" Sirius looks right at Remus, tapping his fingers to the table. "You left four hours
ago, Moony, and you said you'd be back in two."

Remus frowns. "Surely it hasn't been that long."

"Shit, shit, shit," Mary blurts out, springing up from her chair like her skirt is on fire. "Oh, I
was supposed to meet with Marlene hours ago. Fuck. I—I have to—" She groans and
snatches up her bag. "Dammit, Sirius!"

"Me? What'd I do? How is this my fault?" Sirius protests incredulously.

Mary waves her hands at him, huffing. "I don't know, but it's just an instinct now to say it. I
have to go." She swings around the table and kisses Sirius' cheek, then James'. "Thank you
for coming to be our favorite hindrances. Drag the rest from the depths of their own
brilliance. My brain hurts, so theirs must."

"As you wish, Macdonald," Sirius chirps, visibly pleased, and he salutes her before she
rushes off. He immediately swivels back around to Remus.
"No," Remus says.

"Moony."

"Padfoot."

"I will physically drag you away from your book."

"You're welcome to try."

Sirius purses his lips, then pushes away from the table to walk around and grab the back of
Remus' chair, quite literally dragging him away while Remus curses under his breath and
makes a desperate swipe for a book, only just missing it. Sirius grins and cheerfully says,
"Stealing him away now."

Remus makes a noise of protest, slamming his feet down to the floor to halt himself. "Sirius,
I'm not—"

"Shh, if you come quietly, I'll make it worth your while."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"Wouldn't you just love to find out?" Sirius asks, waggling his eyebrows with a significant
look.

Remus abruptly stands up. "You know, actually, I do have a bit of a headache."
"Oh, I bet you do," Lily says with a snort.

"Where's the rest of your jumper?" Sirius mumbles, gaze fixed on where Remus has lost the
rest of his jumper. There's not a scrap of decency in the look on his face, which makes
Regulus wrinkle his nose. "Remus. Remus, where's the—"

"There was a bit of a magical incident," Lily cuts in, audibly amused. "Sirius, love, close
your mouth."

Sirius' mouth snaps shut, and then he clears his throat loudly before reaching out to clamp
down on Remus' arm, once again dragging him away as he calls back, "James, the rest is up
to you. Steady on, mate."

"Cheers," James replies, watching them go in amusement.

"Just me and you," Lily tells Regulus, pretending like James doesn't even exist, and he's more
than willing to join her in doing so. He's agitated because James isn't going to drag him off to
shag him. What a twat.

"Ah, sorry to say, Evans, but I'm going to have to steal Regulus away as well," James says,
and Regulus' head snaps up.

Lily groans. "No, no, you can't have him. His mind, James. You don't understand, I want to
study him."

"I'm afraid you will have to do so at a later date, with his permission," James informs her
with a put upon sigh, clicking his teeth and shrugging. "This means you may as well have a
break yourself, seeing as I'm taking him away."

"And where am I supposed to be going with you?" Regulus asks, narrowing his eyes as if his
heart isn't thumping hard and heavy against his ribs.
James swoops in with a small smile and presses a quick kiss to his mouth, right there across
from Lily, and Regulus melts like he's under fiendfyre. He can't help it, and he's not above the
smug satisfaction that surges bright and harsh in his chest at the fact that James is kissing
him. Despite the fact that he cried today in the arms of one of his best friends over this boy
who doesn't actually want him, Regulus feels like he's glowing, and it doesn't matter if it's not
real; he still doesn't want less than this. It's pathetic, but all men in love are.

Regulus reaches up to catch James by his tie when he goes to pull back, fisting and yanking
sharply to drag him right back into a kiss, which draws a quiet noise of surprise from James,
but he leans into it as eagerly as he always does, like he's forgotten that Lily is even there.
Maybe he has. Gods, Regulus really hopes he has.

It'll pass, my arse, Regulus thinks with an internal groan, his heart practically soaring. It is
not passing. Fucking hell, it is not passing. He's not letting it pass, is he?

"Oh," James breathes out when Regulus lets him go. He does this lovely slow-blinking thing
with this lovely, dopey smile on his face. "What was that for?"

"What, I can't snog my boyfriend after hardly seeing him all day?" Regulus asks innocently,
cocking his head.

"Absolutely you can," James declares, rocking forward as a broad grin stretches across his
face. "In fact, I encourage it."

"Oh, James," Lily says with a soft laugh, and they glance over at her to see her looking
amused. She shakes her head, lips twitching as she starts gathering books to put in her bag,
flicking her wand at the others to send them off. "I can see when I've been bested. Alright,
alright, we'll take a break. Regulus, you'll keep helping us with this, won't you?"

"Ah, yeah, I suppose," Regulus mumbles, an inner battle going on inside him that's just a war
between being smug and being sheepish. "I don't mind."
 "Lovely," Lily declares, pleased, then hops to her feet. She smiles at them. "I'll leave you two
to it, then."

"See you, Lily," James says, smiling at her as she walks away, and Regulus reflexively
thumps him on the forehead. He jolts and twists around, blinking. "Ouch! Sorry. Wait,
what?"

Regulus clears his throat. "Where are we going?"

"Oh, right!" James beams at him, and oh, Regulus is so very taken with him. "I thought we
could go flying. I'm not much of a Seeker, if I'm honest, but I reckon you must miss chasing a
snitch, so I brought ours just in case. Do you fancy it?"

"Yeah," Regulus says with a soft sigh—utterly, irrevocably, pathetically besotted. "Yeah, I
fancy it. Let's go."

Chapter End Notes

Act three technically takes place over the course of 3 days, so a lot has happened since
Regulus nearly drowned himself, BUT in a rather short time.

As for the queer club, there are logistics that have to be worked out, but it is inevitably
worked out. They're all young and have different experiences, so for example, someone
may not find it upsetting that fellow queer people know they're queer in the name of
offering them a safe space, but for some (like Regulus, who was outed), that would
literally be a nightmare. and no, i don't think there's some sort of, like, ~Thing~ that

🤷
queer people have that would distinguish them as queer, but in this world, magic is
beyond logic anyway, it's handled delicately but also realistically, and we see more
on that later. (spoiler: the first meeting is next chapter).

Barty, my beloved <3 I didn't overlook what he went through, as promised, and it was
really important to me that he and Regulus had that moment together to sort of...heal
together, in a way, at least a bit.

Sirius... Yes, so he may have freaked out a little, but he came around! Do I think it
would have happened that quickly and easily in most cases? No. BUT I do think that
Sirius would jump on the chance to try if he had someone put it to him that NOT trying
has the same chances of ruining things. Also, you can all stop being mean to Sirius for
being oblivious now. He's figuring his shit out! One down, one to go!

Speaking of the other one, James did in fact redeem himself for the Lily comment last
chapter. And then he just casually smiled at Lily, you know, as friends do, and Regulus
THUMPED HIM 😭😭😭 James was instantly like: sorry! Like a little kid getting into
trouble and he didn't even DO ANYTHING. Regulus is training him. James does not
know this, but he is being trained. James is just carrying on happily with his treats (read:
anything with Regulus), completely unaware that he's being trained. Help him.

Also, Remus and Mary and Lily and Regulus??? I love them as frazzled academics
yelling at each other and creating chaos???? Like imagine Sirius, James, Peter, and
Marlene just casually in the common room, reading in quiet peace. Sirius: you know, it's
been ages, do you reckon they're alright? James: im sure they're fine. And then cut to
Lily in duck form being chased by Regulus who's hicupping Moonage Daydream,
Remus who's in a croptop jumper, and Mary who has bright blue hair. I love them all so
much
 ACT FOUR: Part One
Chapter Notes

hello, hello!

warnings for this chapter: there is a brief altercation where someone who is queer (and
experiencing internalized homophobia) gets into an argument with lily (a very stupid
thing to do, and don't worry, she's a girlboss about the whole thing). there are no slurs
used, but he makes it clear that he thinks badly of queer people (he's wrong), calls it
unnatural (it's not), and makes the comment that lily is a freak (she isn't, and she handles
it). no one is harmed and, like i said, lily is a complete badass about it. just wanted to
warn for those of you who would (rightfully) find it upsetting, because it is an
unfortunate reality that many queer people face comments like this to this day, and in a
way, for me personally, it was extremely validating to write lily standing up for herself,
as she should.

it's only a brief scene, and there are no other warnings for this chapter, really. just a lot
of wholesome moments between a lot of queer people to more than make up for it. also,
regulus and james are super cute in this chapter. oh, and dorelene, too. ;)

enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

James looks up when Remus comes stumbling out of Sirius' bed-hangings, one eye squinting,
his hair a mess and a rather visible mark high on his neck. Through the brief flutter of the
curtains, James can see Sirius lying on his front, drooling on his pillow, completely shirtless
—possibly starkers beneath the sheet that thankfully covers him from the waist down—and
sleeping like he's all tuckered out, mouth slack.

This is not an abnormal occurrence anymore. James doesn't think Remus and Sirius have
spent a night not in each other's beds since Valentine's Day, just a little over a week now. It
seems to have, as James predicted, eased a lot of the previous strain between them. This is
partially just because they're both insatiable, from what James can tell. He knew shagging
would solve all their problems. He loves being right.

"Morning, Prongs," Remus mumbles through a yawn, dragging his fingers through his hair as
he shuffles towards the loo.
"Morning, Moony," James replies.

Peter and Sirius aren't going to be waking up for a while, he suspects, so he goes back to
writing to his parents. As promised, he's making sure to talk to them, and he finds that writing
down his thoughts has actually helped. He hadn't realized how stressed and tired and worried
he was, constantly, until he found the feelings slowly starting to ease.

In the aftermath of what happened with Regulus and Barty, they've all been trying to find
their footing again, Sirius and James especially, as well as Regulus and Barty, from what he's
seen. Sirius has been visiting with McGonagall practically every day; Regulus has also
apparently been writing letters, some that he burns, and some meant for Effie and Monty;
Barty has been noticeably jumpy, has even hexed a few people he thought were drawing their
wand on him, but his friends have seemed to help, and he's been going to Flitwick to learn to
infuse his clothes with protective charms, apparently, which seems to have helped ease his
mind a lot.

Understandably, Regulus' friends have been monopolizing him and Barty, hovering and never
quite leaving them alone. Sirius, too, has been seeking out Regulus more frequently than
before, which has helped ease his mind.

There's been a clear shift in the students as well. Sometimes it takes something serious and
scary to remind people what really matters at the end of the day, and the idea of death brings
most people a sense of discomfort. It's also gotten around that James yelled at people, which
has left some of the more impressionable rather chastised.

It's an ongoing discussion in the halls, in classes, in the common rooms. Students everywhere
are talking about it, arguing for or against why being queer, at the end of the day, isn't
actually a problem. James can't tell which side is winning, but it always warms him when he
hears people, now more than ever, defending those that are queer. While he doesn't think it
even needs debating, he can appreciate the change that's taking place within the castle where
people will actually talk about it, as if it's not as taboo as it's made out to be.

Sirius and Remus being a couple publicly seems to have made an impression as well. James
doesn't know if they talked about it or not, whether they actually made the decision to or if
they just didn't feel the need to keep it a secret. Shockingly, outside of the dorm, they're not
overly, outwardly affectionate in the way James expected them to be. If he's honest, he sort of
thought they'd be snogging all the time and be disgustingly sweet, but they seem to save that
sort of thing for themselves in private. Mostly, they're the same, except now, Sirius throws an
arm around Remus when they're sitting next to each other, a casual claim. Or, he playfully
flirts, winking and teasing to make Remus roll his eyes or blush, or both.

There are the rare moments where they'll duck their heads together, whispering with smiles
and bright eyes; or Remus will run his fingers through Sirius' hair to make his eyes roll back
(this usually leads to them begging off to go shag, no doubt); or Sirius will glare at someone
he knows for a fact fancies Remus, as he always has, but now he rather bluntly tells them to
piss off. They never really told anyone, or made a scene. As far as James knows, it just got
around the castle until one brave soul plucked up the courage to ask Sirius if he was available
(angling for a date) and Remus had said, with no hesitation and in a tone quite clipped, that
he was not. Sirius had grinned and cooed at Remus, who was agitated for only an hour, and
by the time the next day had rolled around, everyone in the bloody school knew they were
dating.

They've been remarkably calm about it.

"Oi, I borrowed your soap," Remus tells him when he comes back out of the loo. "Peter or
Sirius used the last of mine, so I have to replace it."

"Sure, that's fine," James says, amused. "No need to look so grumpy about it. My soap smells
lovely."

"It makes you smell like Prongs," Remus tells him flatly. "Well, more than you already do."

James raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, and what of it? I walk around smelling like a majestic
woodland creature of the forest. I smell bloody amazing."

Remus rolls his eyes, moving over to whip back the curtains hanging around Peter's bed. One
of his legs hangs off the side, and his cheek is smooshed against the pillow. Remus reaches
down and taps his leg. "Peter, wake up."

"Mmrugh," is Peter's response.

"Mate, you're late for class and the dorm is on fire," Remus says insistently, shaking him
more urgently.

Peter pops up with only one eye open. "Wha'?!"

"Every time," Remus says with a chuckle, and Peter groans as he flops back down. Remus
shares a grin with James, then jerks his chin towards Sirius. "Handle him, would you?"

James hums and rolls up his letter, finished now. He'll take it by the owlery later. At the
moment, he sits it aside and slips off his bed to go crouch down beside Sirius', blowing gently
on his face to make a strand of his hair flutter back. "Padfoot, my darling little taffy-drop, my
lovely sleeping beauty, it's time for you to grace this world with your presence today."

"No, not today, Prongs, please," Sirius croaks, his eyes squeezing shut tighter as James blows
on his face again.

"Yes, today, and all days. The world needs you, mate. The people won't know how to conduct
themselves if they don't get their daily dose of swooning over Sirius Black," James tells him,
biting back a laugh as, rather predictably, Sirius hums in approval and smiles sleepily.

"You flatter me."

"No, not at all. It's your sworn duty to wake up and bless the masses with your brilliance."

Sirius sighs and cracks open one eye. "Oh, well, if I must."

"It's a hard job, but someone has to do it, and I'm afraid you're the only man for the position,"
James says solemnly, and Sirius chuckles in a pleased fashion as he pushes himself up to flop
over on his back. Victorious, James stands and swivels to raise his eyebrows at Remus.
"You spoil him," Remus declares.

"As if you don't," James teases.

"Mm, yeah, he does," Sirius confirms, pushing up on his elbows to grin at Remus, his gaze
warm. "Morning, Moony."

"Why can't you wake me up like that?" Peter complains, slowly dragging himself up to squint
at Remus. "Spoil me, for fuck's sake. What's a bloke have to do to be spoiled around here?"

"With Remus, you have to be at least willing to suck his cock," Sirius declares.

"I'm not unwilling," Peter says, and Remus chokes on a laugh.

"Nice to know, Pete, thanks," Remus tells him. "And I have tried being nice, you know. Gave
up in third year. You just tell me to piss off unless I wake you in a panic."

Peter frowns and rubs the side of his head. "Oh, do I? Sorry. Alright, in that case, carry on."

Sirius and Peter are slow to drag themselves up, but drag themselves up they do, nonetheless.
Clamoring down the stairs, James chats with Peter about what to get at Hogsmeade when the
trip comes up. (James is sending the galleons with him, while Remus and Sirius have a date).
He wants to get more Fizzing Whizzbees for Regulus and restock their own sweet supply for
at least until the end of term. Peter eventually gives up and just demands a list, saying, "Mate,
no fucking way I'm remembering all that," which James reckons is fair. It's slightly annoying
that he can't go to Hogsmeade at least one more time as a student in his last year (well, he
could take the passage and go under his cloak, but it's not really the same), but after what he
did to Mulciber, slight annoyances are the least of what he deserves.

Ahead, Sirius and Remus are doing an odd mixture of flirting and bickering, calling each
other cunts the way one would say a term of endearment, their shoulders pressed together.
James is just grateful that their bickering isn't as volatile anymore; if anything, it seems to be
a big lead-up to shagging later down the line, which seems to appease them both, especially
Sirius. James doesn't think he's ever seen Sirius so calm and relaxed as long as he's known
him. It probably has something to do with the fact that Remus is repeatedly tiring him out
like it's his one task in life, and one he seems to quite enjoy.

Because they're ahead, they make it out of the common room first, so it's Sirius who
announces, "Oh, Regulus, why are you lurking about?"

James' head immediately snaps up, and he pushes forward with a grin. "Well, hello, you
lovely thing. Why, you are a fine specimen, aren't you? Come here, let me look at you."

"James," Regulus protests with a deep sigh, scowling as James catches his hand and lifts it to
tug him into a little spin.

"Marvelous. Absolutely breathtaking," James declares while Sirius barks a laugh, Remus
huffs out an exasperated noise, and Peter snorts. "Genuinely, I've never seen such beauty."

Regulus stares at him blankly. "Take it off."

"Oh, but you look so lovely," James teases, reaching out to rub his fingers down his favorite
red Quidditch jumper from when he made captain the previous year, a gift from his parents
with Potter in bold, gold letters and his number on the back. He promptly grew out of it less
than six months later, but it sure fits Regulus very well.

"I don't know how you did this, Potter," Regulus says sharply, eyes narrowing, "but you're
going to remove it. Now."

"It won't come off?" Remus asks curiously.

"Every time I try," Regulus grits out, nostrils flaring, "it shrinks down until I'm forced to put
it back on."
Sirius laughs again, delighted. "Brilliant, James. Fucking brilliant. Is that where you were
sneaking off to last night?"

"I wanted to be sure it looked right," James admits, grinning as he tugs gently on the collar to
pull Regulus closer. "The match is next week, so I thought you could show your support for
your very talented, Quidditch captain boyfriend."

"I will set myself on fire," Regulus informs him flatly.

James clicks his tongue, then ducks in and presses a kiss to Regulus' mouth. Then does it
again. Then does it over and over, quick pecks, waiting for Regulus' expression to soften. He
holds steady, James will give credit where it's due, but he does inevitably crack when James
starts pressing the kisses all over his face, cheeks and nose and forehead and chin and jaw
and all. Regulus huffs and swats at him, pushing him away by the face, still scowling as
James laughs.

James leans in again anyway, reaching out to slide his arm around Regulus' shoulders. "Oh,
don't be grumpy, lover. It'll come off by the end of the day, and all I ask is that you wear it to
the match. You'll be my good luck, yeah?"

"You're annoying," Regulus mumbles.

"That's a yes," James decides, pressing another fleeting kiss to Regulus' temple. He tugs on
him. "Come on, walk with me to breakfast since you're already here."

"You're exhausting," Regulus adds, but he doesn't pull away.

"Hello? Forgetting me?" Sirius grumbles after them, him and Remus and Peter moving to
catch up.
"I do my best to," Regulus mutters, and James clamps his mouth together so he won't burst
out laughing.

All-in-all, it's a good morning.

One of James' favorite things about Lily Evans is and has always been her fierce temper.
She's a kind soul, really, and ready with a warm smile and soft words of encouragement for
those in need, reliable and wicked sharp with her wit, as well as a bright source of comfort
and joy.

Until you make her angry.

Now, once you've set her off, she's blazing. She has a mean streak that most people wouldn't
know about, seeing as she's not very mean to many people, and her sass is enough to sting
when she really wants it to. James has loved this about her since he was eleven, absolutely
enamored by her flashing eyes and sharp words, that fire in her that had thrilled him before
he even hit puberty. Of course, he likes when she's happy and laughing and all good things as
well, never wants her to be sad or upset, but he can appreciate her like this, too.

It starts like this:

See, the lovely and brilliant Regulus, Mary, Lily, Remus—with the additional help from
Pandora and Evan—finally managed to charm the invitation to the first queer club to only
reveal itself to those who are queer. To do this, they invented a spell, which James is
absolutely fucking blown away by. The notice reveals itself with the time and location and a
small blurb explaining that it's a safe space to those who seek it. To those it doesn't apply to,
it's just a notice that the hall they're having it on will be closed off for some repairs, stating
quite clearly that it will be monitored by Minerva McGonagall herself, which it in fact will
be.

Once cleared through McGonagall, Lily and James made copies, charmed them, and posted
them all up around the castle. Admittedly, they're all relying on it remaining a secret because
one would have to announce that they're queer, as only queer people can read it, and it says
that on the notice. More than that, it's specifically charmed to reveal itself to those who want
or need a safe space to be themselves, so James had thought there was no reason for anyone
that can actually see it to be upset by it.

As it turns out, this was a mistake.

The boy is a Hufflepuff, and James doesn't know him, but he looks to be either in fifth or
sixth year. Not a prefect, or on the Quidditch team, or involved in anything James would
know him from. He's just walking through the hall next to another student, a bloke, and the
notice visibly catches his attention. It would, seeing as it's flashing Queer Club out at anyone
who can actually see it, looking rather dull to anyone else.

James is strolling along with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, while Lily, Marlene, and Mary stroll
ahead of them, occasionally calling jokes out to each other or making faces at one another
just to laugh. It's as he's walking that he sees it.

He sees the Hufflepuff boy do a double-take, and it becomes quite clear what his stance is on
the debate about queer people that's going around the castle. He looks appalled, and James
can see him immediately reject the idea that it's being revealed to him because he's queer and
wants or needs a safe space to be queer. He can also see the bloke moving right over to snatch
the invitation down with a scowl.

Lily sees, too. This does not go over well.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lily asks him as she breaks off to go over, frowning. "Put
that back up."

"This is nothing but hogwash!" the boy declares harshly, shaking the parchment at Lily.
"Who's fucking idea was it to do a stupid thing like this?"

Lily's eyes narrow. "What are you on about?"

"You know!" he snaps. "You have eyes, don't you? As if we don't have to stomach enough of
this shit as it is." At this, he sends a pointed look of disgust right at James, clearly indicating
his relationship with Regulus. Lily follows his gaze, and there it is. That fire in her eyes. She
whips back towards him, but he's not finished. "No Professor would stand for this. It's
fucking unnatural."

"Maybe you should read the whole thing, because if you can read it, you'll find that it applies
to you," Lily says sharply.

"A trick. It doesn't apply to me. Finn, read this. What does it say?" he challenges, holding it
out to his friend.

Finn blinks at it, then glances up. "Er, Will, what are you on about, mate? This just says the
abandoned hall is closed off for a bit of construction or something, and Professor
McGonagall will be monitoring to keep students away. Probably just an infestation of doxies,
or a boggart or two."

"No," Will grits out, "it says—"

"As I mentioned before," Lily cuts in, "if you're reading it, then it applies to you. Careful
before you continue, yeah? Now, put it back up and be on your way."

"You're one of those queers, aren't you?" Will spits out, glaring at her. "Like cunts, do you?"

"The only cunt here is you," Lily retorts, "but as a matter of fact, I rather do have a thing for
girls, actually. I can imagine your disgust originates from the fact that you wouldn't know
how to please a girl if she gave you step-by-step instructions, while I need no such thing."

This sends a ripple of laughter through the gathering crowd, and Sirius hisses, "You tell him,
Evans," in pure delight. Marlene looks so proud, and Mary is staring with her mouth hanging
open slightly, much the same way James usually would be. James isn't, though. He's too busy
trying to smother his own flare of pride and rising laughter.
"You know what you are?" Will demands, balling the parchment up in his fist. "You're a
fucking freak."

And that's it. Something about that changes Lily's whole demeanor. Her face falls flat, and
then her eyes flash, and she has her wand whipped out and Will pinned against the wall
before he can even reach for his own. In the next second, Lily rips the parchment out of his
hand and slams it against the wall right next to his head, making him yelp and flinch.

"I'm not a freak," Lily bites out, and Will inches up the wall, tugged up by the force of her
magic. "Being a witch doesn't make me a freak. Being a muggle-born witch doesn't make me
a freak. Being a queer muggle-born witch doesn't make me a freak. You know what it makes
me? More free and happier than you'll ever be, but do go on denying who you are. No one's
judging you, or making you stop. No one's forcing you to live your life outside of how you
decide, even if you wish to live a lie. But don't you dare degrade those that refuse to." She
smacks her hand to the notice, her jaw clenched. "Tear it down again, and you'll have to go
through me. Am I understood?"

"Fucking hell," Sirius breathes out, sounding like he's having the time of his life. He nudges
James' arm with his elbow and leans over to mutter, "That's the love of your life, mate."

"Is it?" Remus asks quietly.

James glances over at him in surprise, and Remus meets his gaze steadily, a question. James
blinks. Before he can answer, Lily starts yelling, because apparently Will is a fucking idiot
and has said something he shouldn't have. Quickly, James surges forward at the same time
that Mary, Marlene, and Sirius do—all with the idea to pull Lily back before she rips Will's
head off. Mary, Marlene, and Sirius manage to drag her away while she's still spitting mad,
and James steps in to handle Will, sending him off with a detention.

"Alright, alright, everyone go about your day," Remus calls smoothly, starting in on crowd
control, despite the fact that he hasn't been a prefect since fifth year. He'd make for a good
figure of authority, though, because people listen to him.

"Well," Peter says with a sigh, "Will is bound to have a rough few years of discovery ahead
of him."
James hums. "It's a bit sad, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Peter agrees. "But, then again, there was an offer right there that he could have taken.
He chose not to. Instead, he's denying his own feelings and missing out by pretending."

"Can't imagine anything sadder," James murmurs.

James isn't sure what to expect from the first meeting of the queer club. None of them are, to
be honest. There's never been anything like this in Hogwarts, as far as James knows, and it's
an amalgamation of effort from a strange grouping of people.

Oddly, James is nervous. A good kind of nervous like before a match, though. He's done
everything he could to help set up with Lily and McGonagall, it's all ready, and all that's left
is the actual meeting. Sirius, Mary, and Marlene show up first, all together and laughing as
they slip through the door, and then Remus comes in with Peter. A bit after that, James looks
up with his heart jumping when he sees Dorcas filing in, caught up with the others, but his
heart promptly settles back down when all he sees is Evan, Barty, and Pandora.

No Regulus. James frowns slightly, pulling away from the table to approach them. As always,
he seems to invoke some sort of agreement they all have with each other to become terrors,
because of course the very first thing they do is smirk and look at him like he's always their
source of entertainment. They really do make him feel like he's missing something most of
the time, and while he can appreciate that they seem to actually like him a bit, he does wish
they didn't enjoy riling him up so much, specifically about Regulus. For example:

"Where's Regulus?" James asks.

"Oh, he ran off with the new bloke he fell in love with," Dorcas tells him, which is rare. It's
rare for it to be coming directly from her, as she's less of a menace, or so he thought.
"What?" James blurts out immediately, his shoulders going tight, and they all laugh at him.
He huffs. "Stop that. Merlin, I swear you're all so awful to me, and I don't know why. I like
all of you individually."

"Individually, he says," Evan declares with a snort. "But not together, James, is that it?"

"It's because we're too much for him when we get together, and deep down, he knows that to
upset us, he would be upsetting Regulus," Pandora concludes with a small smile.

"Because of course we'd go back and tell him the moment you muck something up," Barty
assures James, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder with a smile.

James sighs. "It's like all of you want me to fail."

"No, we just want you to love our best friend," Pandora informs him bluntly, and James feels
a little bad that they don't know this plan, so they don't even realize that it's not real for
Regulus the way they think it is.

"We want you to give Regulus what he deserves," Barty adds, staring lazily down at his nails
before he makes a show of gently buffing them against his shirt. "You don't do that, so we're
awful to you. Do better, and perhaps we wouldn't be."

"I am a great fucking boyfriend, what are you lot on about?" James sputters, crossing his
arms. "Do better? Bloody hell, I don't know what else you want from me. I'm—"

A hand slides up the back of his shoulder, making him jolt and whip his head around to see
Regulus. Oh, finally. James breaks out into a grin immediately, relaxing as Regulus' hand
gently strokes down his back. His gaze is sharp as a blade when he swings it between his
friends, who are all rather bravely unperturbed by this, and then his eyes visibly soften the
moment he looks back at James. Oh, James likes that. Yes, let him have all the special
treatment, please.
"Are you being riled up again?" Regulus murmurs.

"I am, yeah. Where were you?" James replies, then tips his head to the side when Regulus
gestures to someone James didn't even notice beside him. A young girl in a Ravenclaw tie;
the Ravenclaw Seeker, James thinks. "Oh, hello."

"Melanie, this is James," Regulus says with a sigh. "James, this is Melanie."

"Hi," Melanie offers, tucking her hair behind both ears and blinking around with wide eyes.
She's so short and small, definitely in one of the earlier years, practically just a baby.

"Nice to meet you, Melanie," James greets warmly. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Melanie shifts closer to Regulus, and James gets the sense that she's shy, which is adorable,
because the person she seems to draw comfort from is Regulus. "No, but thank you."

"Alright, sure," James replies, his lips curling up as he watches Melanie dart her gaze towards
Regulus, the admiration in her expression clear. It reminds him of himself and Frank, and it
doesn't matter that James is in his last year; he would revert back to that same young boy who
thought Frank was the coolest person in the world if Frank so happened to step into any
room. Frank had admittedly doted on him because of it, and it seems Regulus is doing the
same with Melanie.

Oh no, that's so cute. Regulus has gone off and adopted a little Ravenclaw who James knows
must be a teenager, but his brain sort of sees anyone under the age of fifteen in the same age
range as someone who's eleven. First through third years are babies, fourth years are toddlers,
fifth years are teenagers, and sixth and seventh years are young adults who have absolutely
no idea what the fuck they're doing and wish they could be babies again. Melanie is probably
a baby, and Regulus has apparently decided to look out for her, which James finds to be
absolutely fucking adorable—and unexpected. For some reason, James had assumed without
ever thinking about it that Regulus would be annoyed by children.

James, in a rare occurrence for him, falls quiet and focuses on Regulus, watching him with
Melanie, who knows Pandora enough to be comfortable with her, takes an instant liking to
Dorcas, and seems drawn out of her shell by Evan and Barty, who are the first to get an actual
laugh from her. She relaxes, seeming less nervous with each passing moment, and then James
finds out that she's not shy, actually. He remembers vaguely that she'd immediately jumped to
Regulus' defense when the fight with the Slytherin team broke out.

Slowly, people start to trickle into the room, each one looking wary the moment they step
inside. Lily and Remus—the ones who are easy to like and can also promote calm with a
simple smile—have been elected to meet people as they come in, making them feel welcome.
Sirius, who can make anyone feel like they've made an instant friend, is lingering by the table
with Mary, Peter, and Marlene, helping dissipate any lingering nerves and creating a casual,
fun environment for people to hopefully relax into. James is technically supposed to be over
there with them, but no one seems surprised or fussed that he's over here, bothering Regulus
instead.

There's a startled call of, "Melanie?" It draws all their attention, and James hears Melanie let
out a small gasp.

"Gio?" Melanie blurts out, taking a step away from Regulus for the first time since the
evening began.

"You?" Gio, a Ravenclaw boy, replies in audible shock, nearly tripping over his own feet as
he starts towards Melanie with wide eyes.

"Me! You?" Melanie says, fully moving away to meet Gio, the both of them reaching out to
grip one another's arms. "I can't believe—oh, this is so cool!"

"I know!" Gio agrees excitedly, and then they're both laughing in a mixture of shock and
amazement, and it seems to happen all at once, the way they start crying as they fling their
arms around each other at the same time, still laughing even as they cling to one another and
cry.

It's so heartwarming. James feels like his chest expands at least three times its usual size.
Melanie and Gio are visibly the youngest people in the room at the moment, and their
palpable excitement and emotion seems to soften everyone. It's a scene that James doubts
he'll ever forget, one that makes him think, no matter how any of this goes, it was all worth it
for this.
"They're best friends," Regulus murmurs to James, even with his gaze fixed on Melanie and
Gio, who are drawing back with giddy smiles as they swipe at their faces. "I imagine they
both worried the other would leave them if they shared this."

James glances over at him and feels his chest grow warmer than it already was. Regulus' eyes
are soft. "You like her."

"I give her a little extra training as a Seeker," Regulus replies quietly. "She's latched onto me
a bit, I think."

"A bit?" James laughs breathlessly. "You're her bloody hero, Reg. Anyone with eyes can see
that. It's really… It's cute. I thought you would hate children."

Regulus arches an eyebrow and turns his head to meet James' gaze. "Why? Because I'm gay?
Just because I didn't want to have children with a woman doesn't mean I wouldn't want
children at all, James."

"I want them, too," James admits. "Loads of them. I want enough to make an entire Potter
Quidditch team."

"Oh, Merlin," Regulus says with a snort, rolling his eyes, and James grins at him. "You
would. And what happens when none of them even like Quidditch?"

"I would disown them all immediately," James declares, and Regulus swats his chest lightly
with the back of his hand, which reminds James rather absurdly of his mum, as she does that
to his dad sometimes. It makes him grin wider. "No, I'm teasing. I'd love them regardless, of
course."

"I know," Regulus tells him, his voice almost unbearably soft, and then he swallows as he
looks away.
"They'll like Quidditch. We'll make them like Quidditch," James decides, nudging Regulus
playfully with his elbow.

"Oh, we will?" Regulus cocks his head at him. "What do I have to do with this?"

James chuckles. "Well, you're a Seeker. You'll influence them, because children are very
impressionable."

"Why am I there to influence your children?"

"Of course you're there. I can count on your support on this subject, surely. Sirius, too. He's
already promised to personally provide the brooms."

Regulus stares at him for a long moment, then looks away again, his lips pressed into a thin
line. "I think I'll leave that to you and Sirius."

"Mhm," James says skeptically, his lips twitching, because he can so easily picture Regulus
helping a child onto a broom, smiling slightly as little fists curl around his fingers. Regulus
with a little boy that has James' hair, murmuring to him, lifting him up in his arms,
smothering his round baby cheeks in kisses before lowering him down for a kip. Regulus'
hand extended down to hold onto tiny fingers, his head tipped down as a head of messy hair
tilts up, little legs toddling quickly after Regulus wherever he goes. Of course James' son
would chase after Regulus, just like his dad.

"James?" Regulus calls, his voice louder and more exasperated than usual, which makes
James give a violent blink.

"Sorry, what?" James keeps blinking and focuses on Regulus, his head clearing. "What were
you saying, love?"

"You're wasting your popularity, Potter. Go on, go talk to people and make them feel better
about being here," Regulus tells him, rolling his eyes.
James hums and leans in to steal a kiss, but Regulus turns his face and takes it on the cheek,
dodging him, which James is admittedly a little startled by, but alright. He knows a silent no
when he sees one, and whatever Regulus' reasons for it, James respects it. He pulls away,
smiling. "Alright, alright, I'm going. I'll find you again."

"You always do," Regulus murmurs, turning his head away even more, but not before James
sees the tiny smile he's doing his best to tuck out of sight. James wants to kiss it.

Nonetheless, he forces himself to wander away.

By now, Evan and Barty have found their way to the table holding snacks and drinks, deep in
discussion with Peter and Mary. Sirius can be found inevitably at Remus' side, arms thrown
over his and Lily's shoulders as he chatters to a small group by the door. (Queer people,
James has noticed, seem to travel in packs, or simply find one another and form bonds. There
are a few people who have shown up alone and seem all that more uncertain because of it, but
he's pleased to note that no one's really alone for long.) Pandora and Dorcas have remained
with Regulus, and then there's Marlene, who is talking to a Hufflepuff girl and Slytherin boy
who look to be younger, so James heads over to her.

Marlene doesn't mind his interruption, and neither do the others, it seems, so he fits
seamlessly into the conversation and listens with interest about how these two have been
dating for two years, only to both briefly panic when they saw the invitation at the same time,
together, and there'd been a small misunderstanding that led them straight here. It wasn't until
Lily explained that they could fancy both that they calmed down. Apparently this was a great
source of relief for them, as they were each scared that they were in love with someone who
was gay. They take right to James, who shares their excitement with it being possible to fancy
people for just them, regardless of what's in their trousers.

This isn't the last time James gets to hear stories surrounding the topic of being various types
of queer. He learns things he didn't even know; things like people being a different gender
than people thought they were (his first introduction to trans people); things like people not
feeling the need to shag at all, or those who are happy to shag but have absolutely no desire
to date; things like people who genuinely don't know, who are confused and scared to find
out, but find themselves willing or ready to do it anyway. He gets to witness at least four
different people admit that they're queer, followed up by the shocked announcement that they
never actually said that out loud before; some people cry, some laugh, and some get really
quiet and seem to go deep in thought. Every time, James feels ridiculously proud and can't
really express why.

The atmosphere is nothing like James pictured. It's better. Like a party, except calm and
warm, resembling a family gathering if the family was ludicrously eclectic, accepting, and
also a mess of strangers. There's an unspoken solidarity between everyone, as well as the
palpable sense of safety and belonging. It's like they can all exhale here, be themselves, find
out how to do it in a space that comes with no expectations.

Here, no one is watching others with invasive curiosity or disgust. James is getting glimpses
of couples in every shape and size and color, in various stages ranging from the first meeting
as something blossoms visibly between them, to those who have been together in secret for
long enough that they're either basking in the chance to be open and free, or trying to learn
how to let themselves do it. He sees two girls share a tender, sweet kiss and pull away with
exhilarated smiles, glancing around to see if people care, and no one does. At most, people
just smile at them.

Sirius and Remus are more open here as well, James is startled to note as the evening bleeds
on. He catches sight of them curled up on one of the settees, leaning close together as they
whisper back and forth to each other, completely wrapped up in one another like no one else
exists—and here, they can let the world fade away until it's just them. They're sweet, really.
Remus reaches out to tuck Sirius' hair behind his ear, saying something with a small smile,
and Sirius melts forward, then melts into the first kiss James has ever seen them share in
public where people other than Peter and James can see them.

"What'd I tell you?" Marlene asks with a chuckle, coming to a halt beside him. "He figured it
out before Easter."

"He did," James agrees, beaming, so damn happy for both of them that he thinks he might
cry. He's watching them with a hand pressed to his chest like a proud mother. "When I give
my speech at the wedding, I'll note that you believed in them."

Marlene chuckles. "Cheers. I did, you know. I've known since fourth year how Sirius felt
about Remus."
"You—sorry, did you just say fourth year?" James blurts out incredulously, whipping his
hand to stare over at her.

"Sirius was always effortless, annoyingly enough, but if you noticed, he became rather
clumsy whenever Remus got too close that year," Marlene muses.

James squints at her. "I thought it was his growth-spurt, if I'm honest. Wait, didn't you hate
Sirius in fourth year?"

"I didn't hate him. I was…" Marlene clears her throat and drops her gaze. "Well, I was
jealous."

"You were jealous of Sirius?" James chokes out in disbelief, his brain automatically rejecting
this.

Marlene rolls her eyes so hard her head tips. "I was jealous because when he made a fool of
himself in front of the person he fancied, it didn't end badly, but when I did it…" Her gaze
trails across the room, and James follows it, startled to find Dorcas on the end of it. Marlene
lets out a wistful sigh. "I hated her, you know, just because I was so flustered by her, and I
couldn't focus, and I was—James, I was genuinely trying so hard to keep it together, but it
was like I woke up and was hit all at once by fucking hormones, and then I—I fumbled it. I
was so mortified that I just pretended it didn't even happen and avoided thinking about the
fact that I so very badly want to snog girls, and her in particular."

"Oh, Marlene," James says softly, fondly, and he reaches out to gently tug on a strand of her
hair. "There's nothing wrong with you, not then and not now, and there's nothing wrong with
how you handled it. You never hurt anyone."

"I hurt me," Marlene replies quietly, and James feels his heart clench. "I wish I could
apologize to her, that younger me that didn't know it was perfectly alright. She didn't deserve
some of the things that went through her head about herself."

James can't help it. He squeezes her shoulder, and she allows it without complaint. "No, she
didn't. But she gets to grow up and learn to forgive herself for it, as well as be exactly who
she is. Go on, McKinnon, who are you?"

"Mm, Marlene McKinnon. A fucking brilliant Quidditch player, even better than James
Potter."

"I'm letting you get away with that one time only. What else?"

"The next up and coming curse-breaker."

"Too right."

"A daughter. A friend. The only student Professor McGonagall has ever hugged, which
makes me a legend."

"All true things."

"Fit, funny, and good at knitting," Marlene continues, which makes James hum in agreement
and support. "A girl who can sing the entirety of Typical Girl by The Slits—" This is true,
James has heard it. There's nothing like a drunk Marlene singing 'Who invented the typical
girl? Who's bringing out the new improved model? And there's another marketing ploy.
Typical girl gets the typical boy' at the top of her lungs, "—even when she's pissed. A girl
who likes the way skirts swish on other girls and the sweep of their hair when they pull it
back around one side of their neck. A girl who made a fool of herself in front of the very first
crush she ever had and was so embarrassed that she didn't apologize and ignored her for three
years."

"And," James declares, sliding his arm around Marlene's shoulders, "a girl who's going to go
talk to her old crush."

Marlene rears back, exhaling sharply. "Are you fucking mental? She hates me, James."
"But you two talked at that one party, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I was pissed. Found my courage deep inside a bottle of firewhiskey, and I still
didn't have the fucking courage to tell her I used to fancy her."

"She makes you nervous," James notes, amused. "McKinnon, I don't think you ever got over
fancying her."

"Piss off," Marlene mumbles. "What does it matter anyway? One night talking to each other
doesn't mean anything, as we were both pissed, and like I said, she hates me."

"I've seen her look at someone with hatred," James assures her, recalling in vivid detail how
Dorcas looked at Mulciber outside the Hospital Wing. "Trust me, she doesn't look at you like
she hates you. Just talk to her, Marlene, honestly. Look, I'll come with you, yeah? We're in
the midst of a meeting in the first queer club at Hogwarts; if not now, when?"

"James—"

"There aren't even any cauldrons around for you to tip over."

"You fucking prick," Marlene hisses.

James laughs and tugs on her again, getting her to move, which she does actually allow. "I'll
be right there the whole time, alright? You give me the signal, and I'll make up an excuse to
save you and drag you off. Oh, and look, it's just her and Evan at the moment. Wonder where
Pandora and Barty got off to. Actually, where's my lover?"

"Don't let me say something stupid," Marlene mumbles, and James smiles helplessly, because
truly, he's never quite seen her like this about—well, anyone or anything.
"I'll do my best, but it's not the end of the world if you do. Maybe she likes a girl who says
stupid things," James offers, shrugging when she looks at him incredulously. "What? It's been
known to happen. Sirius says stupid things all the time, and Remus seems to like it."

"Remus is a lost cause. I saw it, you know. The exact moment there was no hope for him.
Fourth year, same as Sirius, ironically enough. Sirius tripped, caught himself against the wall,
played it off like he did it on purpose, and flicked his hair like he used to back then all the
time, wearing that Sirius Black signature grin, and Remus looked at him like he was the most
amazing thing he'd ever seen. I was so embarrassed for both of them. They never stood a
chance, did they?"

"No, I don't think so. They're always sort of just...drawn to each other. It's not—I mean, even
when they had problems, there was no resisting it. They just kept crashing back together. Got
messy sometimes, if I'm honest."

"Sirius fought it so hard, didn't he?" Marlene murmurs. "I could never really understand
why."

James does. Admittedly, he didn't, not at first. But Sirius told him. Sirius, the morning after
he and Remus first shagged, had apparently snuck off and left Remus to his spiraling, which
had infuriated James when he found out about it. He'd gone off planning to find Sirius and
drag him by his fucking ear all the way back to the dorm so he could apologize and confess
his love, even if James had to cross his arms and watch him to make him do it, even if James
had to fucking hold his hand through it. Because Remus had looked so, so very upset and was
trying his hardest to pretend he wasn't, and then—

Well, Sirius was already on his way back, and before James could even get a word in to
berate him (as he was originally planning to do), Sirius had blurted out that he was scared.
That pretty much took all the wind out of James' sails, and he'd softened right on up, listening
as Sirius rambled about how he didn't want to lose Remus, or ruin their friendship, but he
wanted him so badly that it was maddening, and so he was going to go to Remus, admit that
he's fragile and terrified and stupid about him, and do it anyway.

Then, when Remus stepped out of the common room, Sirius had stopped mid-sentence,
looked at him with panic written all over his face, and blurted out, "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot, I'm
rotten and I know it, but I'm quite pathetically in love with you, please don't leave me ever."
To this, Remus had stared at him for a beat, then sighed quietly, lips twitching as he held out
his hand, which Sirius had surged forward to take, stumbling off after him hopefully as
Remus took them back to the dorm. They didn't come back down for quite some time, and
they've been fine ever since.

"Sirius has this persistent worry that he's rotten on the inside and made for ruining things, and
he found a way to have Remus through friendship without worrying about it as much, but
love is different. Love is scary. Love is…" James sighs and shrugs slightly. "Love makes us
all stupid sometimes."

"Do you believe in love at first argument?" Marlene mutters, her eyes fixed on Dorcas as they
draw closer.

"Hello? Lily?" James reminds her with a chuckle.

Marlene hums. "Oh yeah, I forgot you used to fancy her. Never thought you'd get over her, if
I'm honest. What about you and Regulus?"

"Oh, well, I mean—" James clears his throat. "Well, we—we did technically argue when we
first talked, really. I...went to him with a request, and he...said no, then was mean to me about
the whole thing."

"You sure have a type, James," Marlene notes, amused at his expense, and James can feel his
face getting hot. He drops his arm away from her, struggling not to squirm, vaguely annoyed
by his own inexplicable bodily responses. Because he can't really explain them, or understand
them, and he hates it when it's like his body is trying to tell him something that his brain
won't slow down enough to listen to.

"Right," James mumbles, then essentially shakes it off as they come to a halt in front of Evan
and Dorcas. "Hello, what are we talking about?"
"Queer awakenings," Dorcas says without an ounce of irony, and Marlene makes an odd
choking noise like she wants to sink into the ground and never resurface. "As I was saying
before, mine was an anti-awakening, in a sense. I was so disgusted by Avery in my third year
that I realized I didn't fancy blokes at all. I was rather calm about it."

"Ah, Viviane Travers," Evan says with a wistful sigh. "My first girlfriend all through third
year and into the fourth, and the moment she decided it was time for us to shag, I broke both
our hearts rather than stomach it. I think I knew then."

"Can I ask?" James ventures cautiously, and Evan arches an eyebrow at him. "Just...have you
tried telling anyone you've dated that—that you don't want to shag?"

Evan gives him a small, bitter smile. "You'd be surprised at the responses you'll get to
something like that. Some of them were fine with it at first, thought I was a gentleman, even
liked that I never seemed to want them only for getting off...but then it was like I couldn't
love them enough in their eyes if I wasn't physically showing it. I eventually gave up."

"You shouldn't feel like you have to come with a warning," Marlene murmurs, her eyebrows
furrowing. "Shagging's brilliant when it's wanted, but it's not the point of being with
someone. Not everyone thinks that way."

"I'm seeing that," Evan admits, his gaze drifting almost curiously around the room. "I've met
a few people like me tonight. Didn't know there was anyone else."

"Ah, you'll always be one of a kind in my eyes, Rosier," Dorcas says warmly, nudging him
with her elbow, "but this is nice, isn't it? Having people who get it. I know—I mean, of
course we all support you, but it has to get annoying being surrounded by those of us
obsessed with shagging."

"Sometimes, yeah. Merlin, Regulus had been awful lately," Evan mutters, grimacing slightly.
"I've never seen him like this. He's so—ow! What was that for?" He rubs his arm and frowns
at Dorcas, who is staring at him hard. After a beat, his eyes widen slightly, and he rasps, "Ah,
shit."
"Sorry," James says weakly, "did—did you just say Regulus? What, ah, did you mean by that,
exactly? He's been—"

"It's because he nearly died," Dorcas cuts in blandly, flicking her fingers lazily. "Nothing
you're doing, James, I'm sure. But, you see, when someone nearly dies, they're often gripped
with the urge to live, as it were, and for a repressed gay boy who's a bit of a whore, this
includes shagging."

"I—whore? Did you just call Regulus a whore?" James sputters, his mouth dropping open.
"He's not a fucking—don't call him that. Don't talk about him that way."

Dorcas and Evan share a look before promptly busting out laughing, and James tries to gather
his wits about him, still ridiculously flustered and also defensive now, which is an odd
mixture to manage, if he's honest. Helplessly, his brain seems stuck on the fact that Regulus
apparently wants to shag, just returning to this one thing like a skipping record. Not shag
James, specifically, but in general. But it's James he spends all his free time with outside of
his friends, and unless he's going to shag Barty… Well, no, James doesn't like that thought at
all.

Some little sinister voice in his brain points out that he could offer to fix this issue for
Regulus. That would most certainly be blurring the lines, wouldn't it? Just, well, James has
never shagged a boy before—or anyone, admittedly—and...and it doesn't have to be Lily,
does it? There's no rule saying he has to only shag one person in his life, is there? He has it
on good authority (out of Lily's own mouth) that she shagged a bloke in sixth year (her
boyfriend at the time, a seventh year Raveclaw James had hated with a burning passion,
honestly), which was well within her right. There's no law saying James can't shag someone
who isn't Lily Evans, so really—

It takes James a second to realize he's essentially just bargaining with some invisible honor
system in his brain that exists to no one else, quite literally doing his best to talk himself into
letting himself shag Regulus, because some part of him is convinced that he shouldn't—for
more reasons than just Lily. He doesn't know these reasons, admittedly, because his brain is
doing truly impressive twists and flips to avoid them directly, but he can nonetheless sense
that shagging Regulus Black would, in some way, ruin him beyond repair.

Besides, James reminds himself, he's being terribly presumptuous yet again, when he has no
right. The last thing Regulus wants to do is shag him. He deserves to shag someone he
actually loves, and James...isn't that. Which is—well, he knew that already, so he doesn't
need to keep thinking about it. He doesn't want to keep thinking about it.

"James?"

"Hm?" James blinks, swallowing harshly, and he looks up to find the other three staring at
him. "Er, sorry, what?"

"I asked what your queer awakening was," Evan says slowly.

"Oh, right. Remus, third year," James replies, then freezes as his eyes widen. "Wait, fuck,
don't tell Sirius."

"Bloody hell, that's just too good," Marlene declares, cackling, and James groans as he hangs
his head forward. "His boyfriend was your queer awakening, and then you ended up dating
his little brother. James, you're lucky he loves you so much, or I think he'd try to kill you,
mate."

"You really just looked at Sirius and thought to yourself, hm, how can I drive you further into
that Black family madness?" Dorcas teases, her eyes bright.

Evan snorts. "You're a brave, yet stupid man, James Potter."

"In my defense, it was a harmless crush that happened before either of them even started
fancying one another, and as for dating Regulus… I will have you know, Sirius is very
supportive of our relationship. He thinks I'm a good influence on his little brother, actually, so
there you have it," James says primly.

"Brave, yet stupid," Dorcas agrees with Evan, but she flashes James a teasing smile to take
the heat out of her words. Oh, she likes him, James can tell. Ha! He won her over. Evan, too,
he's sure. Pandora is a bit trickier, shockingly, but he can tell she's coming around, and then
Barty is just a game of exploding snap. James never knows when they'll go smoothly, or
when their interactions will abruptly blow up in his face, and Barty seems to like it that way.
James, who has always rather liked exploding snap, does get a bit of a thrill out of it, but he
could do without Barty riling him up. "And what about you, McKinnon? What was your
queer awakening?"

At this, James quickly glances over at Marlene, mentally willing her not to fumble this one.
He dutifully waits for any signal to save her from this, but Marlene breathes in, sets her
shoulders, and proves exactly why the sorting hat put her in Gryffindor as she says, "That'd
be you, Meadowes."

Evan breaks out into a grin immediately and glances at James, and they have a quick silent
exchange that James honestly didn't think they would be capable of. It amounts to: James, are
you seeing this? Yes, Evan, I'm seeing this. Does Marlene…? Yes, she does, and Dorcas…?
Oh, absolutely. Brilliant! Isn't it just?

Meanwhile, Dorcas gives a rather violent blink and says, "Me? Wait, I was your queer
awakening? When was this?"

"Ah, fourth year," Marlene admits, a little less boldly now, and a little more nervous. "I mean,
I'd seen you before, of course, but we never really met until that potions class. You said hello,
and I was—well, you have a nice voice, has anyone ever told you that? I never heard it before
then, and then you—you cupped my hands to show me how to properly chop the ingredients,
do you remember that?" Marlene's eyes seem to glaze over a bit. "Your rings… I remember
looking at them and not being able to look away. You still wear the same one on your thumb
with the moth. That one, yeah. And that's why I...tipped over the cauldron. I was—ah, that is
to say, you rather sent me into something of a crisis, if I'm honest."

"Well, that's just...really flattering for me and embarrassing for you," Dorcas replies, and
Marlene looks mortified and stricken immediately, but Dorcas huffs a quiet laugh and swivels
the ring on her thumb before slipping it off entirely. It's a simple silver ring with a tiny moth
on it rather than a jewel.

She reaches out and grabs Marlene's hand, holding her gaze as she gently, with a sensuality
that only two hands gingerly brushing together can invoke, slips the ring onto Marlene's
thumb. It catches at her knuckle, but then the moth's wings flutter and unfurl, the band
stretching to accommodate, and the ring slides on and fits easily, one of those rings charmed
to fit whatever finger it goes on. Dorcas brushes her thumb over the moth as it settles and
goes still, then smiles slightly and pulls her hand away, her eyes sparkling.

"I made that," Dorcas informs her. "It'll stay on and remain in perfect condition no matter
what you're doing or where you're at. Keep it."

"But it's yours?" Marlene blurts out, confused, and yet she tucks her thumb in like someone
would have to cut it off before she'd let anyone remove that ring.

"Which means I could give it to whoever I decide to," Dorcas replies simply. She considers
Marlene for a long moment, then heaves a sigh. "Oh, I really don't have as much depth to me
as I originally thought." Evan laughs at some joke that no one else gets, and Dorcas clicks her
tongue. "Well, now this is just flattering for you, McKinnon, and embarrassing for me."

Marlene coughs. "Ah, what is, exactly?"

"Come on, I'd rather just show you," Dorcas says, sticking out her hand again, though she
waits for Marlene to actually reach back this time before she proceeds to pull Marlene away,
over to a fairly excluded corner. James makes the mistake of blinking, and then he's watching
his friend get snogged by the girl she's fancied since fourth year.

"Yes, Marlene!" James hisses, resisting the urge to fist-pump for only five seconds before he
gives in.

"I hate that I actually like you," Evan says mournfully.

"Oh, do you? I'm so glad," James replies sincerely, beaming at him. He reaches out to gently
nudge their elbows together. "You're a good sort, Rosier."

"James," Evan murmurs, his eyebrows furrowed, "I'm saying this because I actually do,
rather against my will, like you enough to consider you something of a friend. Don't hurt my
best mate. Don't break his heart. He doesn't deserve it. This isn't a threat; it's a request."
James feels his face soften as the center of his chest seems to get all warm. He really does
appreciate the way Regulus' friends look out for him and love him. Of course, they don't
know the whole story; they don't know that James can't break Regulus' heart, even if he
wanted to, which he doesn't. The mere thought makes his stomach lurch. Oh, he'd never.

"I won't," James vows, and Evan's lips press into a thin line like he wants to say more but
won't allow himself to. "Evan, mate, I'm not joking. I promise I won't."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

"I don't."

"Right," Evan murmurs, blowing out a deep breath. "Well, let's hope this isn't the first."

James smiles. "It isn't. Speaking of your best mate, though, where'd he get off to?"

"Oh, talking to some bloke who's probably going to steal him away from you," Evan says
lightly, lips curling up into a smirk as James' face immediately drops, his jaw clenching.

"What did I say about those jokes? Stop it, would you?"

"Who said I was joking? Turn around."

James whips around almost immediately, completely ignoring it as Evan releases a soft laugh,
and he's startled to find that Regulus is, in fact, talking to a bloke. Clive, specifically. Gio and
Melanie are there, too. Naturally, James immediately wanders over to them with a distracted
goodbye to Evan, who doesn't seem surprised and also hasn't stopped laughing.
Regulus and Clive, rather predictably, are talking to Melanie and Gio about Quidditch. Clive,
a Chaser for the Hufflepuff team, seems more than happy to chatter about tips and tricks to
Gio, who apparently wants to try out next year when the position opens up. Rather adorably,
Melanie is hanging off of Regulus' every word; she truly does idolize him. It's so cute.

James, because he's James, barges right into the discussion by slipping his arms around
Regulus and tugging him back against his chest as he cheerfully says, "Hello, you lot. Talking
about Quidditch, are we?"

"Breathe, Gio, breathe," Melanie whispers theatrically as Gio's eyes go as round as dinner
plates, his mouth hanging open a little bit as he gapes at James like he's a celebrity.

"Yes, do breathe," James encourages with a stifled laugh, then winks at him. "I heard you're
going for Chaser? Don't listen to a word Clive says. He'll lead you astray, I'm afraid."

Clive chuckles. "Yeah, alright, get your jabs in now before Hufflepuff crushes Gryffindor at
the match."

"Is that what you tell yourself to help you sleep at night?"

"Oh, I sleep easy knowing I'll beat you."

"The competition between you two is ghastly. Haven't you ever heard of sportsmanship?"
Regulus mutters, leaning back into James and running his hands back and forth over his arms
where they wrap around Regulus' waist. He lightly tugs on the hairs on James' forearms idly,
like he's not even thinking about it, and this—for some reason—pleases James so very much.

"This is sportsmanship," James teases, "and you're hardly one to talk. If I recall, you spent
your last match playing for the wrong team out of spite."

"And I have zero regrets," Regulus declares bluntly.

"You were brilliant," Clive tells him, grinning, and James feels a sudden prickling up his
spine. He instinctively tightens his arms around Regulus, a strange awareness in his mind that
reminds him of when he's Prongs, going still as his instincts make him raise his head and pay
attention.

"I've been told," Regulus says.

"I told him already," James informs Clive, holding his gaze when Clive stops looking at
Regulus to look at him instead. There's a beat—one beat too long for James' liking—where
Clive meets his eyes steadily without wavering at all, and then he looks down. James inhales
sharply, holds it, then releases it and forces himself to look away.

Regulus suddenly jolts against him and lets out a soft laugh, sounding genuinely delighted,
which makes James break out into a smile immediately. "Oh, Dorcas. What'd I tell you?
Check the Gryffindors."

"Spotted them, have you? Are they still—"

"Snogging? Yes, quite fiercely. Good for her."

"Good for them," James corrects, pleased. "Oh, I love this. Starting a queer club was a
brilliant idea."

"You know," Regulus murmurs, tipping his head back against James' shoulder, "it really
was."

"Sirius suggested it first, by the way."

"I take it back immediately. This is stupid."

 James laughs helplessly and turns his face to press a kiss to Regulus' forehead. "Sure, love,
whatever you say."

Chapter End Notes

james giving regulus his Quidditch jumper. and then him daydreaming (LITERALLY
daydreaming) about regulus with his son. he's so in love 😭😭😭 and you can see here
that he sort of...recognizes that. like, it's at the point where he's, like, STRUGGLING to

🤔
ignore it. this poor babe, literally reminding himself, like: regulus doesn't want me,
regulus doesn't love me. hm, wonder why he feels the need to do that?

lily my beloved. she absolutely OBLITERATED will, as she should. ive never really
enjoyed the whole "the bully is a homophobe because they're queer and that excuses
their actions" because it doesn't. like, yes, personal growth is so important and we all
have our own issues to work through, but being queer and closeted and suffering
internalized homophobia doesn't allow someone the right to bully other queer people.
lily getting to say she's NOT a freak is so important to me, because she's not, and she
deserves to get to be happy with being who she is. a witch, a muggle-born witch, a queer
muggle-born witch. we stan <3

sirius and remus being adorable <3 i love them so much. also, evan and james'
friendship pleases me so much. so does james and marlene's friendship.

speaking of marlene. DORLENE DORLENE DORLENE!!! i was so excited for this,

you have no idea!!! marlene being like: you were my queer awakening. and then dorcas

giving her the moth ring 🥺

being like: lol, that's embarrassing, babe. HELP I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. and dorcas
they're so cute

melanie!!! i adore her so much. regulus basically doting on her the same way frank did
james made my heart melt. also, james being jealous of clive 😭😭😭 babe, STOP. clive
didn't didn't do anything??? he just said regulus was brilliant??? that moment where
james was like, staring clive down, clive was literally thinking: why is he looking at me
like that? JAMES NO ONE IS STEALING YOUR BOYFRIEND CALM DOWN. he's
so...

i would also like to say thank you for all the lovely comments ive received. i see a lot of
people apologizing for long comments or multiple comments, but please please don't
apologize. i adore them all. every single comment and all the love means so much to me.
sometimes i don't have the mental energy to reply to every single one, and there are a
few chapters i wasn't able to respond to at all, but i see all of them. they make me laugh
and motivate me to keep writing and reassure me that what ive written means something
to people, and i can't thank any of you enough for that. comments are SO special to
writers, i promise you, so if you ever want to leave one on ANY story but you're
nervous or think they wouldn't appreciate it, i promise you there's not one writer that
won't be absolutely delighted by a kind comment. again, thank you all <3
 ACT FOUR: Part Two
Chapter Notes

😬
okay, folks and friends. no warnings for this chapter outside of angst. just...so much
angst. the first part is happy, at least?

enjoy...?

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match is highly anticipated by the entire school. It falls just
at the very end of February into March, and everyone in the school is practically vibrating in
excitement for it, even those that don't really care for Quidditch. This is because whichever
team wins, there will be a huge, celebratory party that practically everyone of age goes to.
Hufflepuff and Gryffindor are known for them.

For James, on the day of, he is focused. He gets up earlier than usual, does exercises in the
silent dark of the dorm room before anyone else even gets up, then gets ready before the sun
even drags itself into the sky.

Sirius, who used to play for the team until fifth year, knows how important this is to James.
While he likes to tease James for how seriously he takes Quidditch, as most people do, he's
also ridiculously supportive. This means he gets up earlier than he usually would and,
without complaint, joins James outside to time him when he runs. (Remus has expressed that
it makes entirely no sense for James to run when he'll be flying, and James can never make
him understand the full-body workout and preparation that running provides him, which
lends itself to flying better, nor can he get it through to Remus that running is simply fun for
him and helps get his blood pumping and the adrenaline rushing.)

Because Sirius is no longer on the team, he doesn't bother running with James. He cheers him
on, though, as much as he can when he's not dozing off standing up. James appreciates his
effort, he really does. When they make it inside, James heads off for a shower, and Sirius
crawls back into bed with Remus to get more sleep before they all go for breakfast.

Peter loves Quidditch, but does not love flying, which makes him great for watching and
explaining to Remus everything that's going on, but not actually playing. Remus does not
love Quidditch (thinks it's a bit stupid, honestly, which has and will always cause James great
agony), but he loves James, so he keeps his witty little comments to himself on the day of
matches James is participating in, stowing them away like a true best mate and being
supportive instead.

This means none of them tease him for being relentlessly intense about the whole thing, and
none of them are startled by the fact that James quite literally does not care about anything if
it doesn't have to do with Quidditch. There are no exceptions to this rule. On the days of
matches, James is not a bundle of sunshine and laughter; he doesn't move around casually; he
doesn't get distracted. No, he's sharp and serious, not a smile in sight; he walks with purpose;
he—

"You're wearing it?" James blurts out, doing a quick double-take as Regulus, much to
everyone's shock, sits down in the open spot on the bench next to James at the Gryffindor
table where everyone is having breakfast. He is, in fact, wearing the Potter Quidditch captain
jumper that James gave to him, which makes James break out into a grin—also much to
everyone's shock, because they know his usual routine.

"Yes, obviously. Good morning. Good luck," Regulus lists off, then leans over to kiss James
quickly, then stands right back up and leaves without another word.

James stares after him and, for a bit, doesn't think about Quidditch at all. He plants his elbow
on the table, leaning his cheek over on his fist, and thinks oh, he's so lovely.

"Well, that was...suspiciously sweet," Sirius notes, squinting over at Regulus where he's
sinking down at the Slytherin table next to Barty.

"It was really sweet," Peter agrees, sounding like he's seconds from saying aww.

"I think he's being nice to me today," James says, turning to press his mouth against his fist to
try and hide his grin. It doesn't really work, but he does try.

Remus raises his eyebrows at him. "I thought you like him when he's mean to you."
"I like him when he's...him, really," James admits, because he's not sure how else to explain
it.

"I—" Remus halts, then closes his mouth. "Nevermind, not today. Tuck in, Prongs, you need
the energy."

"Cheers, Moony," James declares, beaming at him before promptly beginning to fill his
plate.

And again, before the match, Regulus shows up once more. There's a designated spot for
each team to wait before meeting on the pitch, and James usually spends it giving rather
intense and uplifting speeches to get the team properly energetic and exhilarated as him—or,
well, as close as anyone can come to it, as it'd be impossible to match him. He does do this,
but he's interrupted halfway in by Regulus just...showing up.

Once again, James is distracted by the mere sight of him, trailing off mid-speech (much to the
bemusement of his team, who has never had this happen to them before), and Regulus takes
the opening of the brief, stunned quiet to move over.

"Clive flies weak on his right flank, so if you come at him from that side, he'll fumble the
quaffle. He overcompensates unconsciously by throwing left, so intercept from that side
when you do," Regulus informs him.

James blinks. "How do you know that?"

"I've played against him."

"You're a Seeker."
"An observant one. Besides, he and I have flown together recently when training with
Melanie and Gio." Regulus gives a tiny shrug. "The Hufflepuff Keeper favors the center goal.
The Seeker can't resist a fake-out. Your Seeker spends too much time watching the match
instead of watching for the snitch, and your Beaters are too scared to actually injure someone
to be a proper threat. You don't know when to pass if it's better to pass because you're
ridiculously cocky; when McKinnon says she's open, trust me, she is. Pass the fucking
quaffle, James."

"Marry me," James breathes out.

"That's illegal," Regulus replies, lips twitching, and he leans in to kiss James' cheek, because
his mouth is hanging open a little too wide for the lips to really be an option. When he pulls
back, his eyes are smiling where his mouth isn't. "Good luck. Don't lose, or you'll bring
shame to us both."

With that, he sweeps off, and James needs a moment. He leans up against the wall, feeling
ridiculously winded, and he thinks being weak-kneed before a match is just a recipe for
disaster.

Nonetheless, James has pulled himself together by the time he makes it into the air. His
whole world narrows the moment the whistle blows, and then he's off, rocketing through the
sky and losing himself to the thrill of the game.

What James has always loved about Quidditch, more so than just flying on its own, is the
relief it offers his mind. It's the ideal environment for how his brain works, because he's
allowed to go as fast as his thoughts do. His broom responds to every shift of his thighs and
the lightest of touches from his fingers. He's not meant to slow down or stop, and the way his
mind bounces and twists and flies is perfect for this. When he says he was born to play
Quidditch, this is what he means.

He loves it. He loses himself to it. He...maybe forgets to pass a few times when he should,
despite Regulus' critique, but not every time and certainly not as often as usual. It's not really
a conscious thing; it's not even necessarily about being the one to make the goal. Really and
truly, James is just ridiculously possessive for a person who's never really gone without. As
much as he loves to share, as much as he loves having people to share things with, what he
considers his, he finds it nearly impossible to let go of. The quaffle does qualify, yes.
Regulus' critiques and helpful secrets aren't wasted, though. The team does use it to their
advantage, and James absolutely relishes in getting to use it against Clive, specifically. The
first chance he gets, James swoops in on his right flank to knock into him, scooping the
quaffle the moment Clive fumbles it.

Grinning, James calls, "My boyfriend says you fly weak on your right, Abrams. Might want
to work on that," and then shoots off with a bright laugh.

It's a good match. Long and brutal and nail-bitingly close. James has made it through his
second, third, and fourth wind by the time it's over, the match suddenly interrupted by the
roaring stands as the commentator announces that Gryffindor won. James is fucking elated,
of course, nearly tipping backwards off his broom as he flings his arms up and shrieks in pure
joy. He follows his team to the ground where they all almost immediately come together to
hold onto each other, jumping and rocking and shouting their delight to the sky.

It doesn't take very long before the crowd converges on the team, more people screaming and
celebrating. Sirius runs at James straight on and launches right into his arms, legs wrapped
around him and all, screaming directly in his ear. James catches him, obviously, and laughs
himself near to tears as he bounces them both up and down, and they just keep screeching,
"We won! We fucking won!" at each other over and over with seemingly no end in sight.
Sirius does eventually unlock his legs and stand on his own again, but his delight continues to
bubble over as he proceeds to launch himself directly at Marlene right afterwards, the same
exact way he did James, which looks a little more absurd because he's bigger than her, but
she holds him with ease.

Mary practically shoves him to the ground, though, to throw herself at Marlene. James turns
and gets an armful of Peter, who squeezes him so tight that his spine gives a very satisfying
pop, and then Peter wrenches back to grab him by his shoulders and shake him. James shakes
him back. They make nearly incoherent noises back and forth at each other, trying to go back
over certain moments of the match but never quite managing to get through them or garble all
their vowels out properly. Off to the side, Remus can be seen waiting patiently with an
equally exasperated Lily.

And then, there, James sees him. Regulus just casually standing on the outskirts. It's one of
those moments where James forgets everything again, like how his world narrows down to
one thing when he's playing Quidditch, but it's just Regulus. For that one moment, everything
is Regulus, and nothing even exists outside of him. The oceans are his hair, the storms are his
eyes, gravity originates from his chest, and the only source of oxygen waits past his parted
lips.

Breathless, James pushes through the crowd and heads right for him, and Regulus seems to
be bracing himself for it. He tilts his face up into it like he's opening his airways, and then
James is breathing him in. Hands in his hair, lips on his, and it's as much of a victory as
winning the match was.

There's something about it, kissing like this. Kissing when James is riding the high he's on
now, when he's triumphant, when everything in him is stripped down to the purest form of his
satisfaction. Nothing could possibly go wrong in this moment, everything is perfect, and
James is stumbling into the dangerous arrogance of such a sensation. It makes him bold and
silly and confident even more so than he is naturally.

This means that James, without thinking about it, wraps an arm around Regulus' waist and
swivels slightly to half-dip him, stooping over to kiss him deeply. Regulus muffles a quiet
yelp against his mouth, tensing up and scrambling at James' shoulders to slide his arms
around them, clinging so he won't fall, but he ultimately succumbs to the silly, romantic
display with a quiet moan the moment James gets his tongue in his mouth. And James is on
top of the world.

This moment could last for a lifetime.

James wants it to.

It doesn't, though. They eventually break apart, and James grins down at him, laughing
breathlessly as Regulus blinks up at him, a punched-out laugh of incredulity of his own
tripping from his lovely, swollen, bitten-red lips. Carefully, James pulls back up, lifting
Regulus swiftly out of the dip, and James instantly wants to kiss him again.

"You were brilliant," Regulus tells him, his eyes bright and his face flushed. "Of course you
were. Merlin, James…"

"What?" James asks.

Regulus tucks his lips in and shakes his head, then blows out a deep breath. "I've never seen
anyone shine as bright as you."

James has to snog him again for that. Of course he does. Wouldn't anyone? Regulus can't just
say things like that without being kissed for it. What else is James to do?

They are unfortunately pulled away from their admittedly long and drawn-out and very
thorough snog, because Regulus is just letting James get away with whatever he wants today,
and oh, James is so glad. He's so very grateful that he gets to kiss, and touch, and hold
Regulus as much as he wants. It makes him groan when his team practically drags him away
to get cleaned up post-match, everyone else heading for the common room to kick off the
party. To his credit, James does try to wander back over to Regulus, but someone grabs onto
the back of his collar and fully just pulls him away with force. Regulus is left standing there,
looking absolutely too lovely to describe, pressing his fingers to his smile as James goes.

By the time the team makes it back to the common room, the party is on and going strong.
James—along with the rest of the team—is quickly dragged in, drinks put in their hands,
people praising them with laughter and cheers ringing out. It's a mass of people reliving the
match's greatest moments in vivid, possibly exaggerated detail and getting steadily more
pissed as the night wears on. James is caught up in it, knocking back drinks and still riding
the high of victory.

James keeps looking around, though. Waiting for Regulus to show up. Dorcas does. She's
suddenly just—there, leaning up against the wall by Marlene and watching avidly as
Marlene, who is also riding the high of victory, passionately recounts the match; her gaze is
warm, and she has a tiny smile curving her lips as Marlene waves her hands around wildly,
talking quickly in her excitement, and James is so pleased for both of them. Pandora, Evan,
and Barty show up as well. Yet, no matter how hard James looks, he can't find Regulus
anywhere.

"Who are you looking for, mate?" Sirius asks, quite drunk already, much like James. His eyes
are glazed, and he's draped over Remus like he's impersonating a new jumper for him.
Remus, who is also pissed already, doesn't seem to mind at all.
"Regulus. Have you seen him?" James asks, tilting a little precariously and nearly falling into
Peter's lap.

"I told you, Prongs, he doesn't much like parties," Sirius reminds him with an apologetic
shrug. "He probably won't come, I'm sorry to say."

James frowns. "Not even for me? But all of his friends are here."

"You can celebrate without him, it's fine," Sirius says.

Remus snorts and mutters, "Can he, though?"

"Yes, thank you, Moony, exactly," James declares, holding his hand out in a wide arc, pleased
that Remus gets it.

"I think—I think he should come," Peter announces, hiccuping into his cup. "He's your—I
mean, he fancies you so much. He has to show his support, doesn't he?"

"He doesn't," James whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. His stomach twists, and why won't his
brain let him rest? It just keeps chanting, over and over: he doesn't, he doesn't, he doesn't
fancy me, he doesn't want me, he doesn't—

"Oi, Rosier," Sirius bellows, waving his hand until Evan, who is closest to them, looks over.
"Where's my brother?"

"He said he had something to do!" Evan calls back.

"Yeah, but is he coming here?"

"He didn't say."

James huffs and stumbles away without another word, heading towards the dorm. The world
tilts around him a bit, and he nearly crashes right into Lily, who catches him around the waist
before he goes face-first into the wall. She is not drunk, clearly, as she's much steadier than
he is, but she has a drink in her hand. He tosses his arm over her shoulders and tries to get his
balance, blinking hard.

"Alright, Potter?" Lily asks, amused.

"Lily, can I—can I ask you something?" James mumbles, gazing down at her with a furrow in
his brow.

Lily hums. "Yeah, sure. What is it?"

"What's wrong with me?" James asks, and Lily frowns at him, her head tilting slightly.
"What's so wrong with me that makes people not want me? Not for real. Never—it's never
real. Am I not enough? Too much? What is it?"

"James," Lily says, "what are you on about?"

"Is there something wrong with me?" James rasps, staring at her through a bleary haze. She's
beautiful, truly, even when she's looking at him with her face scrunched. He makes a
frustrated noise, struggling to explain.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Lily assures him, like she's soothing a small child. She
squeezes him a bit. "You're just a bit pissed at the moment, is all. Heading up to your dorm,
then? Might be best to retire if you're feeling maudlin."

James grunts and retracts his arm away from her, not at all satisfied. "No, I have to find
Regulus. Where is he?"
"Not sure," Lily admits, tucking her lips in like she's doing her best not to laugh at him. "Oh,
don't be so grouchy about it. I'm sure he'll show up soon enough."

Displeased still, James stumbles away from her as well, tackling the challenge that is the
stairs to his dorm. He comes out of that victorious as well, though it does very little to lift his
mood, which is just not on. He's supposed to be having a lovely night, and now he's grumpy.

It doesn't take him very long to locate Regulus on the map, as there are only a few places
James knows he would be. And there, at the astronomy tower, Regulus' name floats in place.
Oh, so the stars are more important than James now?

Grumbling (and slurring) under his breath, James locates his cloak and begins the perilous
journey through the common room with so many people packed into it. He winds his way
through, bumping into various people and making them look around in befuddled confusion;
his feet are most certainly sticking out, but no one seems to think to look down. He does
make it to freedom, and then the journey to the astronomy tower is less perilous but more
arduous, in that James wants to be there immediately and it takes him longer than he likes.

When he does show up, he's admittedly in a bit of a strop, because Regulus is just leaning
against the rail with his head tilted back, looking up at the stars. He's beautiful. Of course he
is. But why can't he be beautiful near James?

James just wants to be near him.

"You didn't come to the party," James accuses, watching Regulus jump and look in his
direction. His eyes continue to dart around, and James realizes he hasn't taken off his cloak,
which he immediately changes by whipping it off. Regulus blinks at him. "You didn't show
up. Why weren't you there?"

"Well, the night is hardly over, James. I did plan to make an appearance," Regulus replies,
arching an eyebrow at him.
James squints. "And yet, here you are. Here, and not there, where I was, and that's just—just
wrong."

"It's the first clear night where Regulus will be the brightest," Regulus explains, pointing up
at the sky. "Besides, I thought you'd enjoy celebrating with your friends and your team for a
bit without needing to put on a show."

"I like putting on a show," James grumbles. He moves forward and stumbles a little, yet
again. "I missed you."

Regulus abruptly releases a soft laugh. "Oh, you're quite sloshed, aren't you? That explains
the pouting."

"I wanted you there, kept looking for you, and you were here. I missed you, so I'm here now,
too," James tells him, feeling the need to update Regulus about this.

"Is that right?" Regulus murmurs, lips twitching as he props his chin on his folded hands,
watching James shuffle closer. He looks amused, maybe a bit fond.

James hums and drags his hand along the rail, partially just for balance, and it doesn't take
very long at all for them to be hovering so close together that they're nearly touching. "It is
right. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, James, that's alright," Regulus says softly, his smile flickering slightly, in and out,
sadder than James likes to see.

"Can I…?" James nudges at Regulus' elbow with his fingers, swaying in hopefully. Regulus
stares at his fingers like they're separate entities from James himself, alien invaders coming to
take control, and James feels the need to defend them. "I just want—I mean, I only want to
hold you. Can I?"

Regulus glances up and murmurs, "There's no one here."

"Oh." James wilts sadly, dragging his fingers back with effort, blinking out towards the sky
with his eyebrows pinched and his mouth set into an unhappy frown. "Can I anyway?"

"Bloody hell, Potter, you're ridiculous," Regulus announces with a snort. "Fine, yes, you can,
but—" He's interrupted by James immediately surging forward to swing around behind him
and wrap both arms around him, leaning into him to gently press him against the rail, face
buried down in the crook of his shoulder. Wryly, Regulus continues, "But don't fall asleep, or
I'll leave you here. That's what I'm worried about. I'm not joking, James. If you pass out,
you'll remain here."

James hums in vague agreement, not really fussed. Sure, sure, that's a potential future
problem. Right now, James has no problems at all. He smiles and lifts his head a bit,
squinting at the sky again. "Alright, where are you?"

"Just there," Regulus tells him, getting it immediately. He lifts his hand to point the star out
again. James follows his finger and sees Regulus there, hanging bright in the sky, a mere
pinprick in the grand scheme of things, but a lovely one all the same. "I come every year, no
matter what's going on. I think perhaps I feel a little obligated. Is that silly, do you think?"

"No, I don't think so," James murmurs. "It's beautiful. Regulus, I mean. You should have told
me, you know. I would have come here with you."

"The party," Regulus reminds him.

"So?" James replies carelessly.

Regulus is quiet for a long beat, then he leans his head back against James' shoulder, turning
his head slightly to meet James' gaze. "You'd rather stargaze with me?"

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" James says. He flicks his gaze over Regulus' face sluggishly,
simply content to take him in. He's stargazing in his own way, holding the star in his arms.
Oh, he's so lucky. People everywhere would be jealous if they knew. They should be.
"It's like old times," Regulus tells him, lips twitching. "How did you know I was here?"

James laughs and reaches up to brush Regulus' hair back off his forehead. "I'm afraid I'll
never reveal my secrets."

"I'll find a way to evade you yet, Potter."

"Mm, you can try."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Regulus challenges, arching an eyebrow at him.

"It means I'll find you always and forever, wherever you may go," James informs him rather
seriously.

Regulus does that flickering smile again, the sad one that makes James' heart concerned.
"What happens when you stop looking for me?"

"I won't," James says, blinking at him.

"You will," Regulus promises, and he sounds so sure, which is just…ridiculous, honestly.
James won't. He knows he won't. Of course not, why would he? "One day, James, you're
going to stop chasing after me."

James makes a displeased pfft noise, scoffing at the mere thought. "You're wrong."

"I don't understand why you do it," Regulus admits, his voice quiet and careful like this
conversation could be dropped and shattered on impact with one wrong word. James is too
drunk to cradle it, but he tries. "What are you going after?"
"You," James answers, because it's true, and he thought that was rather obvious.

Regulus swallows, the line of his throat rising and falling, a motion that distracts James a bit,
admittedly enticing. He snatches his gaze back up to Regulus' face, his eyes, when he all but
chokes out, "What do you want from me?"

James can tell he's supposed to give his response with great deliberation, but he's mostly just
concerned about the emotion that's thick in Regulus' voice. Oh, don't be afraid, he thinks,
distressed. Why do you sound afraid? So, in his distraction, he barely even notices his
response tumbling from his mouth, a quick and frantic, "Nothing, Regulus. I promise. You
never have to give me anything, alright? It's okay. I'm not after anything. You're safe."

"Right," Regulus rasps, blinking harshly and turning his head away as he releases a deep,
shuddering breath. "Of course."

"Was—was that right? Wasn't that what I was meant to say?" James asks warily, his heart
thumping.

"You're meant to say the truth," Regulus says sharply, ripping himself forward out of James'
arms, gripping the rail so hard that his knuckles are stark white. He half-turns, looking right
at James with unbridled anger in his eyes. "I don't ask you questions because I want to hear a
specific answer, and you shouldn't answer only on what you think I want to hear."

James swallows. "But I—I don't—I just want to say the right thing. I want to make you feel
better."

"I'd feel better if you were honest," Regulus snaps.

"I—" James opens and closes his mouth, his eyes wide, and the world feels like it's spinning
too fast. He feels like the sea has been trapped in his chest, the waves rocking. "Reg—"
"You're pissed," Regulus announces abruptly, his eyes sinking shut. He takes a deep breath,
then his fingers relax around the rail as he exhales. He opens his eyes, and when he speaks
next, his voice has softened. "You're just...really quite pissed at the moment. It's fine. You're
fine, James."

"I don't feel fine," James admits in a harsh, hoarse croak.

Regulus' face softens. "Come here," he murmurs, holding his hand out, and James takes it
and lets Regulus pull him in so they're both leaning against the rail and each other. He doesn't
complain or protest when James dumps his head over on his shoulder, and instead, he lifts his
hand to run his fingers through James' hair. "We won't worry about it tonight, yeah? We'll just
keep outrunning our inevitabilities until we can't anymore. Besides, it's a night for
celebration. You really were brilliant today during the match."

"Yeah?" James whispers, his eyes drifting shut. He has the sneaking suspicion that he's being
coddled. That's alright, he'll take it. He rather likes it, actually.

"Yeah," Regulus confirms.

They don't really say anything else, and James thinks maybe that's for the best. He doesn't
trust himself not to say the wrong thing, and he can't imagine anything worse than shattering
the peace they find together now. So, in a calm silence, they gaze at the stars; Regulus
looking up at the sky, and James looking right at him.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Sirius declares with a huff, slamming a book shut. "Moony, what
the fuck is this? You read this gobshite on purpose?"

Remus narrows his eyes at him. "I do, actually, and what of it? Are you insulting my tastes in
books?"

"Yes," Sirius replies bluntly.

"Fuck off, you cunt," Remus says. "I didn't make you read it."

"Why are you reading it?" Regulus asks lazily, from where his head is propped up in James'
lap. His eyes are closed and his face is relaxed. "I wasn't aware you could read."

"Stop being a knob," Sirius grumbles.

"Apparently," Remus announces, "he thought it would bring us closer together, or something.
Clearly, this was a mistake, as it's obviously driving us apart."

"Remus John Lupin," Sirius says sharply, "I love you so very much, but your taste in books is
shit, and frankly, I'm embarrassed to be seen with you."

"Oh, in that case," Remus drawls casually, standing up, a little bit slower than usual since it's
the full in only a few days.

Sirius surges forward immediately, dropping the book to grab Remus' arm instead. "Wait, no,
I take it back. You can love all the shit books in the world, Moony, I support you entirely."

"You're pathetic," Regulus mutters.

"I'll remember this when you fall in love," Sirius hisses at him, reaching out to kick Regulus'
ankle.

"Hey, be gentle," James protests, leaning over to cup Regulus' leg and scoot it out of range.
"He has delicate ankles."

"Fuck you, Potter," Regulus snaps as Sirius barks a laugh and tugs on Remus' arm more
insistently.
James shares a grin with Sirius, who eventually tilts his face up to look at Remus as he says,
"You're not actually going. Sit down, yeah? We can debate about your stupid book. I would
love nothing more."

"Do you two just...enjoy bickering?" James asks curiously.

"We're very passionate souls, James," Sirius says sagely.

"Sure, Pads, that's what it is."

"Oi! Are you saying we're not?"

"No, you are, but I think it's in your nature now. You started bickering on the train before first
year and never quite stopped," James muses.

Remus laughs softly. "Oh, I remember that. I called him posh, and he told me my freckles
looked stupid."

"I rather like your freckles, actually," Sirius tells him, giving him a bright grin. "You know
what it was? I had the thought that I wanted to connect them all like constellations, and then
you asked what I was looking at you for—" He clears his throat and pitches his voice higher.
"What are you looking at, posh boy? So rude. And you were scowling. Thinking back, it was
really cute, but what was I meant to say? Can I draw on your freckles? I did not have the
range of emotional maturity to say that at eleven, so I said they were stupid instead."

"And they've been insulting each other ever since," James declares wryly.

"That was really quite gay of you," Regulus says, making Sirius sputter. "Even I wasn't that
gay at eleven. His freckles, Sirius? And it took you as long as it did to figure it all out?"
"And when did you realize you were gay, then?" Sirius demands with narrowed eyes.

Regulus hums, face twitching. "Fourth year."

"Ah, he's more self-aware than us all," Remus muses, glancing over at Regulus with his head
tilted. "I spent most of fourth year trying to make sure Sirius, Peter, and James didn't blow up
the castle, so in my defense, I didn't really have the time to figure anything out. Oh, we were
awful that year."

"You're all awful this year," Regulus replies, cracking one eye open to glare at Remus. "I
know it was you lot that charmed all the chairs in all classes to grab onto us and hop around.
No one can prove it, but I know."

James struggles not to grin at that one. Their most recent, fairly harmless prank—one of
many this year. Every chair in the castle (every single one) essentially clamped down on the
person sitting in it and took them for a ride. James himself, along with Sirius and Peter, were
having the time of their lives, their chairs skittering all over the room and hopping about as
everyone around them screamed and laughed. There were chairs still hopping down the
corridors for most of the day, people giggling as they went, and even McGonagall fell prey to
the prank for about two seconds before she shifted into a cat to quickly dart out of range.
Remus had very purposefully stood up before the event, because out of everyone, he has the
best poker face and could avoid suspicion.

Like now, as he says, very mildly, "No, I haven't a clue who did that, actually, but thank you
for the compliment, Regulus. It would take someone rather brilliant to manage to pull off
such a wide range bit of magic, wouldn't it?"

Sirius visibly struggles not to squirm around in delight. He had admittedly done most of the
heavy-lifting on this one. Regulus eyes Remus for a moment, then huffs and closes his eye
again. James has to smother a ridiculous scream that threatens to crawl up his throat, because
sometimes—really, most of the time—Regulus is so fucking cute.

"Evan said you cursed all the way out the classroom when your chair dragged you out,"
James tells him.
"Stop talking to my friends," Regulus mutters.

Sirius snorts. "Oh, face it, Reggie. We all get on now. One of yours is dating one of mine.
There are no lines anymore."

"You mean Dorcas and Marlene?"

"Obviously."

"Your friends like me," James adds. "They do. I made them. Admit it, I won them all over."

"You may have won the battle, but only I can win the war," Regulus replies simply.

"So dramatic," James teases.

"It's a family trait," Sirius says dryly, making Remus and James crack up as they share a look
of pure understanding. Yet again, Sirius tugs on Remus. "Sit down, would you? I miss you."

"I'm literally right here, Sirius."

"You could be closer, though."

"Needy," Remus murmurs, lips twitching.

Sirius arches an eyebrow at him. "Oh, I'm needy, am I? Was I the one begging last—"
"Alright," Remus cuts in quickly, while James stifles a laugh and Regulus rolls his eyes
without even opening them. "That's enough out of you, I think. If you've forgotten, Wormtail
is waiting for us."

"Shit," Sirius blurts out, clamping down on Remus' arm for balance as he scrambles up. He
catches Remus' fingers, threading them together as he bends over to scoop up Remus' book.
"Alright, we'll go. On the way, you can tell me what about this book is even remotely
entertaining."

"Well, if you must know," Remus starts, his eyes lighting up, and Sirius grins as he trails after
him. James gets the feeling that Sirius only insulted the book to make Remus rant excitedly
about it, which is rather adorable. They're so caught up in each other that they barely even
pause to say their distracted goodbyes, and then they're strolling along, hands clasped
between them as they go, bickering the whole way.

"I hate them," Regulus announces flatly.

James snorts and reaches down to push his fingers through Regulus' hair. "No you don't.
You're happy for them, I can tell. Sirius, especially."

"Sure, but they're disgusting."

"Reg, you should examine whatever part of you that finds a queer couple disgusting, because
—"

"Oh, piss off," Regulus mutters with a quiet laugh, reaching up to swat lazily at James' chest.

"I'm just saying, it seems like you have some things you need to work on," James says
solemnly, even as he catches Regulus' hand and brings his fingers up to press a kiss to his
knuckles.

Regulus releases a soft sigh. "Oh, you have no idea."

"I can help bring you round, if you like," James murmurs, pressing kisses down the side of
Regulus hand, hiding a smile against his palm.

"Could you?" Regulus asks softly, his fingers twitching against James' face. His pointer
finger unfurls gently and strokes against James' cheek, just a small caress. "How?"

James trails kisses down to the bend of Regulus' wrist. "Well, you might like it if you try it.
Never know until you do."

"Are you offering up yourself, then?"

"Oh, gladly. I'll make it good for you."

"How do you plan to do that, exactly?" Regulus whispers, and there's a breathless quality to
his voice that James wants to taste. It's sure to be exquisite. His face is a little slack, his
mouth slightly open, and James can't rip his eyes away.

"Slowly." James keeps his eyes on Regulus' face, avidly watching every shift of his
expression, the rise and fall of his throat, the twitching of his eyelids, the brief glimpse of
tongue as it slides out to wet his lips. He presses his mouth over the bundle of veins in
Regulus' wrist, tasting the heat of his skin, the flutter of his pulse. "Slowly and with care.
There won't be any rush. I'll take my time convincing you."

Regulus inhales sharply, his fingers curling into James' hair, holding on. "James."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."
James blinks, then blinks harder, feeling like he snaps back into himself. He rather violently
clears his throat and snatches his head up, dropping Regulus' wrist and staring off into the
distance. "Right. Yeah, I'll...do that."

He does, in fact, do that. So does Regulus. Neither of them say anything for a long time,
James just staring off across the grounds while Regulus gingerly holds his hand against his
chest, just breathing. James realizes with a dawning sense of panic that he's a bad person,
because his brain—which usually evades him—is absolutely fixated on the idea of shagging
Regulus. Just...what would it be like? Past snogging, what is there? He knows, technically,
because Sirius had slipped into his bed late one night to give James all the details. James
suspects Sirius didn't anticipate that he'd take this very helpful information and apply it to his
little brother, though.

Oh, but James is. Because, well, kissing Regulus is so good already, so beyond that, surely
it'd be…

"I'm going to fall asleep if you keep doing that," Regulus says suddenly, and James blinks,
looking down to find that his hand has started to stroke through Regulus' hair.

"That's alright. Rest a bit," James replies, lips curling up, and he does it with more purpose,
watching Regulus' face relax.

James, who has found himself with a free afternoon, makes the most of it by not doing much
at all. It's lovely outside, the sun shining, a bite still in the air as the last dredges of winter
threaten to shift into the starts of spring. Not too cold, not too hot, the optimal time to laze
about on the grounds; most of the students are taking the opportunity, him and Regulus
among them. James feels quite content to just sit here and run his fingers through Regulus'
hair, gazing down at him.

No one bothers them. People hardly even pay them attention anymore. The surreality of
James and Regulus' relationship has lost its shine, especially with a new spike of queer
couples no longer hiding. James and Regulus may have been the first, but they were not the
last. Sirius and Remus, then Dorcas and Marlene, and suddenly it was one couple right after
the next, like they were all doing it in solidarity together. Taking a blatant stand and basically
forcing people to deal with it.
People deal with it. Some people still don't like it, some aren't quiet about not liking it, but
there are just as many—if not more—who are supportive, loudly and outwardly. The second
meeting of the queer club had been even bigger than the first, as everyone had returned and
even more people plucked up the courage to show up. The change that's taking place is
mostly positive, and James is so fucking pleased by it.

A shadow falls over James, making him look up, and he blinks in surprise to see Lily
standing over him, her eyes latched onto where Regulus' head rests on his legs. There's a tiny
furrow in her eyebrows, but she's also smiling slightly.

"He looks rather angelic, doesn't he?" Lily murmurs, speaking quietly like she's trying not to
wake him.

"Yeah, he does," James agrees, because he does.

Lily chuckles softly and sits down on the ground on the other side of James' legs where
Regulus isn't stretched out, just next to his head, gazing down at him as she wraps her arms
around her knees. "He really is beautiful, James."

"I know," James says, grinning when she glances at him in amusement. "What? I have
glasses, but I can see."

"Too right," Lily allows, her gaze trailing down to Regulus again, specifically where James'
fingers push through his hair. She watches, her smile fading. "Does he—does he like that?"

"What?"

"Fingers through his hair?"

"I—well, I suppose," James muses, blinking at her. "Why?"

"Just...asking," Lily mumbles, shrugging and clearing her throat as she snatches her gaze
away to frown at her knees instead. "I was just asking, is all."

James searches her face. "That's not what you want to ask."

"Not really, no," Lily admits, squeezing her eyes shut. She blows out a deep breath, then
looks at him with wide, green eyes that tug at his heartstrings. "James, have you ever…told
yourself something, and—and you believed it, really and truly believed it, but maybe—well,
maybe you were wrong? Like, you spent so much time sure of it, and then...it turns out that
it's not the way you told yourself it had to be? And then you felt stupid, but it was—it was
already too late?"

"Well…" James trails off, suddenly very sure that his answer is going to mean a lot to Lily,
and he doesn't want to get it wrong. Against his legs, Regulus is abruptly tense. Oh, he's
awake. James gently scratches at his scalp, trying to soothe him. "Sorry, just—can you be
more specific?"

Lily swallows. "Have you ever told yourself that you don't or can't fancy someone, but it's—
it's not really working out that way, no matter how much you try? And then it's too late to do
anything about it either way? The chance is gone?"

"I...haven't, really," James admits quietly. He frowns at her, scanning her face. "You know
me, Lily. I don't hold back when I feel something for someone. You should know that."

"I do know that," Lily says with a hoarse laugh. She gives him a slightly trembling smile.
"You're good to Regulus, you know. I always knew you'd be a good boyfriend."

James freezes, his hand going still in Regulus' hair. "You… You knew that?"

"Yeah, of course. Never doubted it," Lily tells him.

"How could you know that?" James croaks. "I never dated anyone. You—you couldn't have
known."

Lily looks at him oddly. "Well, no, but I know you. Of course you'd be a good boyfriend.
You're a good person, James, and you love so wholeheartedly. How could anyone not
know?"

"So, this whole time…" James exhales shakily and leans back a little, genuinely stunned. Lily
cocks her head at him, and he huffs out an incredulous laugh. "But—but if that's true, why do
you watch me so...curiously?"

"Ah, because I—" Lily hesitates, biting her lip, and then she looks at him a little helplessly.
"Well, to learn to be a good boyfriend, I suppose."

James is thrown by this response, so he can only blink at her for a long moment. "Sorry, I
don't...understand."

"Well, obviously not a boyfriend; a girlfriend, actually. But the way you are with him, I want
that with—" Lily halts again, reaching up to push her hair out of her face. "I mean, do I? I
don't—I can't stop fucking thinking about it. And I know I shouldn't, James, because it'll get
strange again, but I—I—"

"Lily, I'm sorry, I'm not following," James admits.

"Don't—you can't tell anyone." Lily holds his gaze, and he nods. She takes a deep breath.
"So, in fifth year, Mary and I snogged." James' eyes bulge, and she looks away, even as she
continues to talk. "I don't even know how it happened, really. We were just—well, Marlene
was out, and we were in the dorm alone. Sometimes we'd get in bed together and talk
about...anything. God, so many things. And...I don't know. She had charmed these soft
sparklers above us to sort of rain down like dripping stars, and our faces were right across
from each other, and we were giggling about something. I can't even remember what it was,
but I remember looking at her and suddenly nothing was funny at all. It felt—I felt like I
couldn't breathe. And I don't know which one of us it was—even to this day I couldn't tell
you—but we just...kissed."
"Just like that?" James whispers.

"Yeah. Just like that. No warning, no talking, it just—was. It just happened. And—and
everything about that moment felt so… I can't explain it, but it was magic. Pure magic,
James."

"But you two didn't…"

"No, we didn't. When it was over, we sort of just—stared at each other. I mean, fucking hell,
we were fifteen. We didn't know what we were doing. Neither of us knew what to do
afterwards, especially, and I was scared. She's my friend. One of my best friends. What are
you supposed to do with that? I didn't know, but you know Mary. She handles things, and she
was the one to handle that. She just sort of laughed it off, so I laughed with her, and we didn't
—we weren't normal after that, not for a bit. Things were awkward, and she never got into
bed with me until—well, that comes later."

"There's more?"

Lily chokes out a laugh. "Oh, James, that was just the start. We sort of got over it, I suppose.
Mary even started joking about it a bit when we were alone. Little teasing comments, really,
but sometimes… I don't know, it was like she'd make a joke about it, but then we'd look at
each other, and I knew she was remembering it the way I was. And in sixth year, she and I
were in the loo together, because I needed to fix my hair, and she came over and stood in
front of me to fix it for me. It was fine at first, I think, because we were just chatting, but then
she made another one of those jokes about—well, about my mouth, specifically. I'd said
something rude about Mulciber and his lot, and Mary said—" She closes her eyes. "Christ, I'll
never forget it. She said you speak such filth from a mouth I know for a fact is so soft, and we
were alone and close, and I think… James, I swear we were going to do it again."

"Snog?"

"Yeah, but then she pulled away. Two days later, she started dating Sirius."
James hisses out between his teeth instinctively. "Oh no, did she actually? Fuck, Lily, that's—
that's really—"

"It was fine," Lily mumbles, but she grimaces. "I mean, it had to be, didn't it? It wasn't like…
I mean, I had no right to feel anything about it. I was her friend; I was meant to be happy for
her. So, I—I was. Except…"

"Except you weren't," James says softly.

Lily blinks rapidly, swallowing. "I tried really hard to be. She was—I mean, she never talked
about it when it was just me and her. When Marlene was there, she would talk about her and
Sirius, and I tried so hard to pretend it was fine. Because it had to be fine. And—and I
actually think I convinced myself."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You remember I started dating Robert."

James wrinkles his nose. "Yeah, I remember Robert."

"He was—I really did like him, you know," Lily tells him, her lips twitching slightly. "He
was fit, and smart, and I enjoyed spending time with him. Mary...hated him."

"I remember," James breathes out in wonder. He does. He specifically remembers feeling
validated that Mary, like him, absolutely despised Lily's seventh year Ravenclaw boyfriend,
stupid fucking Robert. "Merlin, was she jealous? Like me?"

"I don't know," Lily admits, shrugging. "All she'd ever say was that she didn't like him.
Couldn't tell me much more than that. She got worse after her and Sirius split up. I thought
she was upset about that, even if they still got on and said it was a mutual, amicable sort of
thing, but I think… Well, maybe she was jealous, because she was really only especially
nasty about Robert. She was really quite mean to me about it, actually."
"That's awful."

"Well, what I did was worse."

"Oh, there's more," James wheezes, fully sucked into this entire tale he never even noticed
was going on. He never even got a hint of any of this back then.

"Please don't judge me," Lily whispers, and he shakes his head immediately. She exhales
harshly, wincing. "Right, well, Robert was… Like I said, I fancied him quite a bit, and I'll
always be grateful he was my first. It was—the shagging was good. Just he wasn't very…
Well, one time, I..."

"Lily," James breathes out, astonished, because he's been trying to connect this back to Mary
the whole time, and he thinks he knows exactly where this is going. "Did you—"

Lily's face turns as red as her hair. "Yeah, I did. I—James, I swear I didn't mean to. I—my
mind just sort of got away from me, and then I—" She groans, utterly mortified. "Before I
knew it, I was imagining Mary instead of Robert, and it was like this fantasy that just sort of
spiraled out of control, and the next thing I knew… God, he was so proud of himself, and I
got off thinking about her, and I felt so awful, and then I panicked and broke up with him
immediately."

"You—wait, as in right then and there?"

"Yeah. Literally. I just sprang up and broke it off, then basically ran away, hid in the loo and
cried because I was panicking so much."

"Poor Robert," James says, and he struggles not to laugh when Lily sends him a flat look.
"Remus found me. I told him. He was so good about it, and he told me then about how he felt
for Sirius. Without him, I think I would have gone mad, honestly," Lily murmurs, and James
feels his face soften. "In any case, I was so embarrassed that I couldn't even look at Mary. I
genuinely didn't look her in the eye for days. I avoided her as much as I could. Marlene was
so stressed out, and I felt bad, but I couldn't help it. I kept blaming it on the breakup, but
Mary would only stand for me ignoring her for so long. You know how she is."

"She handles things," James quips, his voice warm.

"Yeah, she does." Lily bites her lip and looks at him. "It was awful at first. We got into a row.
She called me a bad friend, and I—well, I was sort of being a bad friend. I told her she didn't
know when to back the fuck off, which is… I mean, sometimes that's true. We started yelling,
and she wouldn't let it go, and then I—um. Well, you know how I am."

James hums. "Explosive when angry?"

"That's one way to describe it," Lily says weakly. "I just… I was really—I was angry at her
for it, like it was her fault. And what was I supposed to do with that, James? I didn't know
what to do, and she kept pushing and pushing and pushing, and I basically just shouted it at
her."

"You told her?" James blurts out, stunned.

"Those exact words. She asked why I couldn't look at her, and I shouted it right at her like a
fucking lunatic. Because, Mary, while I was shagging my ex-boyfriend, I imagined your head
between my thighs instead of his."

"Oh, fucking hell."

Lily huffs out a high-pitched laugh. "Yeah, I know. I'm not joking, it got so quiet that I could
have sworn she must have been able to hear my heartbeat. Then, you know, I was furious at
myself for admitting it, and furious at her for pushing me to, so I started ranting a bit, and
ah…"
"What?" James prompts, his eyebrows rising as Lily's chest visibly stutters on a shaky
exhale.

"She—she pushed me against the wall and—" Lily's face, which had previously faded into a
softer pink, blazes right back to a vibrant red. She clears her throat. "Well, anyway, we ended
up shagging."

James' mouth drops open. "You and Mary shagged?"

"Shh," Lily hisses, eyes widening. "Yes, alright? We shagged."

"Was it…?" James trails off, unsure if he's even allowed to ask, but he's invested now and
curious if it was good enough to make things better, or bad enough to make things worse.

Lily coughs. "It was… Ah, let's just say my imagination had nothing on the real thing."

"So it was good?" James checks, and Lily nods. "Oh. So, if it was good, what was the
problem? What happened?"

"That's the thing, James," Lily mumbles. "Nothing happened. We didn't talk about it. We
acted like it never happened at all. She didn't make jokes anymore, and I never brought it up,
and we just—carried on being friends. I told myself, you know, that it was for the best. I
mean, things got strange afterwards, just like with the snogging, like we didn't know how to
act around each other anymore. And I hated it. I missed her. So I decided not to let it get like
that again, because I'd rather have her as a friend than lose her just because I couldn't stop
thinking about her as more. I did not waver. I stood my ground. I was fucking convinced, and
then you."

James blinks. "Me?"

"You—and him," Lily grumbles, gesturing at Regulus, who is still pretending to be asleep,
James is quite sure. "I mean, Mary wasn't ashamed of being queer. She was the first to say it
at the beginning of the term, and she—she said it so casually, didn't look at me or anything,
so I know it wasn't because of me. And we all talked about it, so when I—when I said I was
queer as well, she could have…done something. She's Mary Macdonald. She handles things.
But she didn't do anything, just carried on like it didn't impact her one bit." Lily's lips twist.
"Then you and Regulus started dating, and suddenly it was like seeing other people live my
dream. I was supposed to stop, and that just made it harder."

"I...had no idea," James admits, feeling oddly guilty. Oh, shit, he was meant to prove he had
more to offer her, and all he was doing was making her suffer a bit. Oh, bad plan. The worst
plan. "Fuck, Lily, I—I—"

"It's not—of course that's not your fault, and you had every right, and I'm so proud of you
both for doing it," Lily cuts in firmly. "Never think for a second that I wasn't happy for you
and Regulus just because I was envious and confused and… Well, a lot of things. God, when
Remus and Sirius got together, I fucking cried. Sobbed, really."

"Wait, why?"

"I was happy for them as well, but it was like I was being mocked, sort of. They are best
friends, James. I couldn't help but draw the comparisons between them and myself with
Mary, except they were in love and would be able to work as a couple, while Mary and I
could hardly manage to stay friends when we were...intimate. But we couldn't be anything
else either. Or, we didn't know we could, or how to, and maybe… What if she wanted to, but
she doesn't anymore? Because now would be the time for it, considering everything, but…"

James blows out a deep breath, taking a moment to work all this over in his mind. It feels like
discovering a world inside the world you already live in, except you had no idea it even
existed. "I—alright, let's just… Let's think about this, yeah?"

"All I do is think about it," Lily complains.

"That's… You know, that's fair. This is a lot." James smiles sheepishly when Lily groans.
"No, stop, it's fine. Listen to me, Lily, it's fine. Because I have the perfect solution."
"Do you really?" Lily murmurs, looking at him.

"Yeah. Talk to her and—"

"James—"

"No, no, hear me out," James cuts in. "Listen, yeah? You go and talk to her. Just sit her down
and tell her how you feel. Because, if I know one thing for sure, anyone who wouldn't be
happy to have you is a fool, and Mary Macdonald is many things, but a fool isn't one of
them."

Lily sighs. "It's not foolish not to want someone, James, no matter how lovely they are.
Sometimes you just...don't."

"That's how you feel about me, isn't it?" James asks. "It wouldn't matter what I did, or what I
had to offer you, that's all there is. It's not—me. It's you."

"Did you…think it was you?" Lily murmurs gently.

James huffs out a weak laugh. "I think I… Well, I suppose I believe I have to do more, or be
more, or try harder just to be...wanted."

"No, not at all," Lily tells him. "Just be you. It's you that we all adore, really." Her lips curl
up, and she drops her gaze down to Regulus. "He certainly wants you for you."

"Right," James mumbles, trying not to cringe. He can't argue with her that it's not true, but
he's tempted to. At this point, his brain keeps reminding him of that fact over and over as
much as it can. He wishes it would stop.
"Do you really think I should talk to her?" Lily whispers, lifting her gaze to his again.
"Remus says the same thing. I want to, but what if…?"

"It's Mary," James says softly. "Lily, it's Mary. No matter what else, she wouldn't stand for
you to lose each other. I know that's what you're scared of."

Lily smiles slightly. It's sad. "I'm so afraid, James."

"That's alright," James murmurs, lifting his hand from Regulus' hair to grab Lily's hand and
squeeze it. "There's nothing wrong with being afraid."

"I have to be brave about this, don't I?" Lily asks.

"You're in Gryffindor for a reason, Evans," James teases gently, letting her fingers squeeze
his before they break apart all at once, naturally. "Go on, go handle it. Maybe Mary needs
you to be the one to do it this time. Who knows?"

"Now there's a thought," Lily replies with a shaky, exhilarated laugh as she pushes to her
feet.

James smiles up at her. "Oh, and Lily?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't look at me to figure out how to be good to Mary. I don't doubt you'll be a good
girlfriend. I've always known it."

Lily laughs softly. "Suppose you would, wouldn't you? Yeah, alright. I'm going now. Wish
me luck?"
"Luck," James whispers as he watches her walk away.

There's something to watching her walk away that feels like a band tightening and loosening
in his chest over and over. It's a harsh tug right at the center of himself that hurts, but doesn't,
like coming up and gasping for air after going too long without it. There goes the girl he fell
in love with at eleven years old, and maybe that wouldn't mean much to very many people,
but it means something to him.

It means something terribly, incredibly sad in an inexplicable way that has very little to do
with her at all. When did Lily Evans become the conquest to measure the validity of his own
self-love? Can he not be content with all that he is if someone isn't there to hold his hand and
tell him it's alright to be? He'd wanted it to be her, but did he ever want her at all? He did. He
remembers that he did once, even if he can't work out when it stopped; he dreamed of her
eyes and felt the swoop in his stomach when they touched and suffered the awful, wonderful
skipping of his heart when she smiled. It was real. And yet, he's coming to realize that it
wasn't, not really, not as he thought originally.

Because James didn't fall in love with Lily at eleven. Typically, people do not. No, he fell in
love with an ideal that Lily never wanted to be a part of in the first place, and it took him
years to learn how to respect it. She would have every right to despise him still for how he
was in the beginning, and yet she still found the kindness within herself to befriend him, to
let him befriend her, and he's so grateful. He's so grateful to have Lily for a friend, and
heartbroken by the thought that he ever entertained that it wasn't enough. This is enough.
This is somehow even better than he could have ever imagined.

He's had their wedding planned out since he was twelve, and here he is now, seventeen and
hoping she'll get to marry the girl of her dreams. How swift and slow things can change, even
when he hasn't realized things are different at all.

Exhaling, James blinks and swallows thickly. This isn't a chapter closing, not for him; this is
an entire book finished, never to be experienced the same again.

Regulus shifts against him, sitting up rather abruptly, and James blinks and swivels his head.
For a moment, Regulus is just curved away from him, hunched over with his head ducked
above his knees. His breathing sounds hitched and slightly out of order, wonky and thick, and
then it cuts out for a long moment. James can see his fingers flex against his own legs, and
there's something fragile about the curve of Regulus' spine through his robes, frail like a
bird's tiny, concave bones. James is going to touch him, and he's going to need to be gentle.
He isn't sure how he knows, but he does.

There's only a moment between James touching Regulus' back and everything falling apart.
That moment seems to yawn between them, forever crystallized and shattering on the impact
the moment it slips away from him. Regulus' spine snaps up straight, infused with iron; oh,
he's found his iron, and when he turns, his face is blank. Absolutely empty.

"Well, that's that, then," Regulus says flatly, and his voice goes beyond emotionless. It's
without tone, without any bit of inflection; it's less than that. It's lifeless.

"What?" James asks cautiously, watching warily as Regulus purposefully pulls away from
him and stands up, swift and stiff like he's irritated with being relaxed, like he's had enough.

Regulus holds his gaze. "Your plan. I told you it wouldn't work. You failed, and it's over
now."

"I—I—I mean…" James opens and closes his mouth, then finds himself hastily getting to his
feet. "Wait, that's not—"

"I should give credit where it's due," Regulus cuts in, taking a deep breath. "You did as you
intended with Sirius, as he's happy with Remus now. You did as you intended with making it
better for queer people in the castle, which is a truly commendable feat. You—you did
everything you set out to do, and more, but just not with her. And I think you know, after all
that, and now more than ever, that there is no succeeding with her, so there's no need for you
to keep trying."

"No, I—of course I wouldn't do that to her," James croaks, blinking hard. He can feel an
uncomfortable amount of his own throat suddenly, sensing in unfortunate detail how it starts
to close up. "I wish her—I hope she's happy, and I won't be the one to—it's alright, but she
won't find that with me."

"Lovely, you finally understand and have enough self-respect to stop making yourself a fool
for someone who never even wanted you in the first place," Regulus says sharply, his eyes
flashing as his jaw clenches. "Like I said, that's that, then."

James fiddles with the front of his shirt. It's rough between his shaking fingers, but he keeps
twisting the cloth obsessively, because he can't figure out how to stop. He exhales and chokes
out, "Are you—are you...breaking up with me?"

"Fake," Regulus corrects. "Fake breaking up with you."

"Oh," James wheezes, and then thinks ouch, because that's a natural, instinctive response to
pain. His mind is a chocolate frog again, hopping out of range, but his body knows when
something hurts. This does. It really fucking does.

Regulus looks away. He looks slightly bored. "There's no point in pretending anymore, is
there? The charade hardly makes sense now, does it? We're at our natural conclusion."

James doesn't say anything. He'd like to, maybe, or maybe not. He doesn't really have a
choice in the matter, as he can barely breathe past the lump in his throat, let alone speak. He
feels ridiculously stupid at the moment, as well as chastised, because what was he expecting?
They never talked about it, but what exactly was meant to happen other than this? They said
it from the very start that this would be over eventually, and it looks like eventually is here.

Somehow, despite that, James hadn't seen this coming. It leaves him feeling a bit winded,
actually, just the surprise of it. But he knew, didn't he? The whole time, he knew.

"Wait, wait, wait," James chants, finding his voice, choked as it may be, because Regulus is
turning to leave. James surges after him, stopping abruptly when Regulus looks back,
something harsh in his gaze that keeps James from reaching out to touch him. "I—right, but
wait, you don't have to—I mean, yeah, that's that, but you can—you can stay."

"Stay," Regulus repeats blandly, one eyebrow twitching up.

James licks his lips, his hands shaking, and it feels like the whole universe hinges on getting
this right. "Yeah, stay. Here. With me. You can—you can stay, Regulus."

"Why would I?" Regulus asks.

"I—" James sucks in a sharp breath, because, again, ouch. He blinks fast and hard. "You don't
have to leave, even though we're not… I mean, we're still—we can still be friends, can't we,
even if we're not pretending to date anymore?"

"No," Regulus says, firm and resolute, no waver in his tone at all. He means it. He really,
truly means it, and James takes a solid step back on pure reflex, his mouth snapping shut. His
eyes sting, and Regulus looks right into them without even flinching. "I don't want to be your
friend, James. I never wanted to be your friend."

"You don't—that's not true," James rasps, the words thick and desperate in his throat, but he
can see it. He can see that Regulus is being honest. "Stop. Don't do that. Don't—"

"It's done, James," Regulus snaps. "Leave it."

"Wait, wait, just—just please—can you just please—" James lifts a hand slightly like he's
begging for Regulus to just give him a bloody moment, and he tries—he tries so fucking hard
to get his scattered, scrambled brain into working order past the alarms blaring loud in his
head, screaming wrong, this is all wrong, you did something wrong at full volume. "Regulus
—"

"You'll be fine," Regulus tells him, apathetic. "You have more than enough friends. You don't
need me, too."

"I want you," James chokes out, his heart—oh, his heart is pounding so very hard, and he
feels shaky. There's something in the back of his mind that's running and running, not in
circles but simply away. Outrunning. Being chased. There's something haunting him, and he's
scared. He's so scared.
Please, James thinks. Please, please, please. I want you. Just keep pretending you want me,
too, just for a little longer, please.

That's when it hits. Right on the brink, right on the verge of collapse, that's when it slams into
him at complete, painful force. Enough to knock the wind out of him. Enough to crush the
chocolate frog in his mind until all that's left is reality. It comes into focus, and it's there; it's
been there for so long.

"No," James croaks, his voice trembling. "No. No, no, wait."

Regulus stares at him. "James?"

"No, that's not fair," James whimpers, his vision blurring, his breathing erratic in his chest.
No, no, no. This isn't fair. This can't be happening to him again. He can't do it again; he can't
want someone who doesn't want him.

This is awful. Truly, fitfully awful. It feels like it's all raining down on him at once,
everything hitting him from all sides, because there's nowhere to run anymore. He knew, is
the thing. Deep down, even when he didn't know, he knew.

His body knew, chasing Regulus wherever he went. His mouth knew, chasing Regulus' lips
every time they pulled away. His hands knew, chasing the thrill of Regulus' skin under his
fingers. His heart knew. Oh, his heart knew, swollen and bruised when Regulus just said it
was over. And he knew the entire time that it wasn't real, that Regulus didn't actually want
him, so his mind refused to acknowledge what his body already knew; because if it was all
fake, maybe the pain would be, too.

It isn't.

What do you want from me? Regulus had asked. Nothing, James had said, when he wants
everything. How could he have ever expected anything else to happen, other than this? James
does everything with his whole heart, even this. He was never pretending, was he? It was
always real to him.
He actually—oh, bloody hell, he actually fake dated his way into falling in love. This was not
what he meant, originally, but damn if his plan didn't work. Fucking hell.

James hasn't been oblivious to it. He's been fucking hiding from it. Because he has, yet again,
found himself in the trap of wanting someone who doesn't, and will never, want him back.

Really, you think he'd be used to it.

"James," Regulus says firmly, stepping closer to him, his eyes a little wide.

"I want you," James repeats. "Oh, Merlin, I—I want you."

"Alright," Regulus whispers, swallowing thickly. "Just…" He takes a deep breath in, a
deliberate one, gently circling his hand to indicate that James should do the same. James
does, and they breathe out together. "It's fine. You're fine."

"No," James denies, because he's really, really not. This is quite possibly the worst thing
that's ever happened to him, and he thought it couldn't get worse than being repeatedly
rejected by Lily for years, but here he is. This? This is so much worse.

"I can't—James, I can't be your friend," Regulus tells him, his voice hoarse, and there's a
strain in his face now. It's emotion, so much emotion. "I'm—I understand that you've come to
care for me a great deal, but I can't. I can't be your friend, and I can't be near you every day,
and I can't…"

James heaves out a harsh breath and chokes, "You—you can't even be near me? I—why?
Why not? Why can't we just—"

"Stop," Regulus rasps. "Just stop."

"Please, please don't do this," James begs. Why am I never enough? he thinks, and that's what
it comes down to. He's done it again. He's been ignoring this very thing as hard as possible,
because it's ripping at him. Claws in between his ribs, cracking him open, revealing
something that falls short every fucking time. But he'll take what he can get; he's been taking
what he could have this entire time with Regulus, and he'll do it still. He'll beg for it if he has
to. "I—I won't be a bother, alright? I'll—we—we don't have to pretend anymore, but don't
leave me. Just—just let me be close to you. That would be enough. Can't that be enough?"

"No," Regulus says, his chest swelling on a sharp inhale, and his eyes are starting to shine. "I
won't do that."

"Why?" James asks, yet again. "Why can't you—why don't you want—fuck, what's wrong
with me? Regulus, just tell me what it is, what I've done, because I—I'll fix it, alright?
Whatever it is, I'll fix it. I swear I will."

"There's nothing to fix, James, stop it. You—you didn't do anything wrong. This is… It's
me." Regulus swallows.

"No," James croaks. "No, I don't accept that. Because I've—I thought we—it just felt like I
mattered to you, and—"

"You do."

"So, it's not you. It's—me. It's always fucking me. What is it? Where did I fuck up?"

"James," Regulus says, plaintive, his eyes bright. "Don't make me fucking say it, alright? Just
—"

"What did I do?" James releases a shuddering breath, feeling like he's dangerously close to
falling apart. Oh, oh fuck, he's so in love with him. It's been living in his bones, and now they
all ache. Please don't go, please stay, I'll do anything and be anything and take anything
you'll give. "I'm sorry. Regulus, I'm sorry for being—for whatever it is that—"
"No, no, don't—fucking hell, don't do that," Regulus cuts in, sorrow twisting his features.
"You're—James, you're—it's not about you. This is about me. I just can't."

"Why?" James asks, just one more time. "Please tell me. If I know, maybe I can—maybe we
could—"

"There's nothing to be fixed. It's fucking done," Regulus insists. "It was—it's different than
pretending to be with you, alright? Because at least then I had—" He halts, his shoulders stiff,
and then he releases a hoarse laugh that sounds like it hurts on the way out. "You really want
to know, James?"

"Regulus," James whispers.

"I can pretend to be with you," Regulus chokes out, "but I can't pretend that not having you
when I'm in love with you doesn't make me feel like I'm drowning."

James sucks in a sharp breath, snapping up straight, and Regulus' eyes sink shut. James
drinks the sight of him in, feeling everything in him shift so suddenly that he can hardly keep
up with it. He can barely handle it all within him, the way his utter devastation is crumbling
under the weight of a sudden rush of pure elation. His heart doesn't know whether to shrivel
or swell, and he's left feeling the fear from before as well as the comedown-rush that usually
follows.

Regulus is right there, standing before James, and he's so beautiful. He's beautiful the way a
tragedy is, and James so badly wants to be his happy ending.

"Oh," James breathes out. "You—you want me."

"Yes, and so, for—for my own...betterment," Regulus says shakily, "I'm going to have to ask
you to just leave me be."
"You want me," James repeats, stunned by this, amazed. Very swiftly, his shock and previous
panic are turning into rising hope and delight. "Oh. Oh, you love me. You—"

"Stop it, James," Regulus cuts in, and his voice cracks. There's the slightest tremble at his
lips, and oh no, it's alright, don't do that; there's no need to be afraid. James hates it, the way
Regulus looks so upset. "Just stop. Please."

"Regulus," James murmurs, as tender as he can, so soft that the name is barely even a breath.
He reaches out mindlessly, wanting to sooth him, missing the feeling of his hair under his
hands. Regulus flinches away from him, and James snatches his hand back immediately,
swallowing thickly.

They stare at each other, and James knows he should be speaking; he's going to, he will, but
he's still blown away. Regulus wants him. Regulus loves him. It sits brittle and precious
within him, something so special that he wants to cradle it in careful hands and examine
every angle of it, memorize it, tuck it safely close to his heart and keep it forever. Regulus is
visibly aching like a bruise, and James loves him. Oh, he loves him, and Regulus loves him
back.

"I can't do this," Regulus croaks, ducking his head and turning as if he's about to go.

"Wait! Wait, no, me too!" James blurts out as he, of course, surges forward to chase after him.
Regulus halts, stiff, and when he turns, his gaze is sharp. James swallows and presses his
hand to his chest. "Me too, Regulus."

"You too, what?" Regulus grits out, and he doesn't look pleased at all. In fact, he looks rather
angry, which is...not ideal.

"You beautiful, mesmerizing, lovely gift of a human being, I'm in love with you," James says,
his voice soft. Regulus is staring at him with wide eyes, growing pale. "I am hopelessly,
happily in love with you. That's what."

"No," Regulus croaks, taking a firm step back.

"Yes," James replies, taking a step forward. He reaches out, starting to cup Regulus' cheek,
but Regulus brushes his hand aside, his fingers trembling.

"No, James, stop teasing," Regulus rasps, tears welling up in his eyes, which feels like a
punch directly to James' chest.

"I'm not," James whispers.

Regulus shakes his head, stepping away from him again, turning even as James follows.
"Stop it. Stop it. I have been second to Lily the entire time, while it was all fake, and I won't
be the person you settle for just because you can't have her."

James halts, rooted to the spot.

"I won't—I won't do it," Regulus chokes out, his lips trembling as the tears start to spill over.
"I won't—not when I've wanted you since I knew what it was to want at all."

He whirls around with a harsh exhale that can't be mistaken as anything other than a sob, and
then he's leaving. Before James can even catch his breath from how winded he feels, Regulus
is slipping away. James doesn't chase after him. He can't. His legs won't work and he's too
stunned by the loss of him to manage it; all he finds himself capable of doing is watching
Regulus get farther and farther into the distance, waiting with his breath locked, thin and
shaky, in his throat for Regulus to turn and come back, because surely—surely he will. But he
doesn't. The form of him rises over the crest of the hill, then dips below it, gone.

James stares after him, not even breathing, left reeling once again by how quickly it all fell
apart. Perhaps absurdly, he sits down right where he was and stares down at his legs, of
which Regulus was just laying on only minutes ago. James had his hands in his hair. Before
that, James was kissing his hand. What happened? What did he do? Oh, oh fuck, what did he
do?
 James never prepared himself to be heartbroken by Lily, sure that things would work out
between them, and the worst part is that he was right. He's not heartbroken because of her,
the one person he thought had the power to do so, because he was too scared to give it to
anyone else. But he didn't have a choice. Because it's Regulus that has him sitting on the
ground, hands covering his face as he releases the most gut-wrenching sobs he's ever heard
from himself.

And to think, what brought him to Regulus, to falling in love with Regulus, is what makes
him lose Regulus in the end.

Yeah, so much for that brilliant plan.

Chapter End Notes

well.

that happened.

alright, let's get into it. so, i told you all that there was a reason james was being
oblivious to his feelings for regulus, and it was some good old fashioned repression due
to fear, plus the fact that he was just so happy doing it. like, he was genuinely enjoying
being with regulus, to the point that he wouldn't examine it to find the problems rooted
underneath. i think james presents himself a certain way that sort of overshadows his
own insecurities to the point that he doesn't even think he has them, so his "arrogance"
isn't JUST arrogance. furthermore, i don't care what anyone says, rejection fucking
hurts. being repeatedly rejected for YEARS will impact someone regardless of who they
are and lead to further insecurities, and of course lily is not a bad person in this scenario
(they'll talk more later, don't you worry), but the idea that he just carried on happily with
no change to him because of it is so implausible to me. in this situation, he got to have
regulus so long as he DIDN'T acknowledge his feelings (because that's when it would
get messy), so he simply...repressed the hell out of it for his own sake, until quite
literally the last second. this obviously did not go over well, as you've just seen.

as for regulus. oh, this is tough. we see more about his feelings on the whole thing later,
but it's like... it's everything he wants to hear, right? except at the worst possible time
when everything is a mess. and yes, that was a shameless reference to amy march in
little women, because that scene fucking HITS and rips me apart every time, and it
perfectly encapsulates regulus' position and perspective on things.

on a lighter note! lily and mary!!! i want you all to know that when i started writing this
fic, i wasn't entirely sure i was going to go the mary/lily route, but they would NOT
leave me alone, because i actually love them so much. we do get to see more about them
later.

also, the Quidditch part was cute, right? so, that's...something. oh, and wolfstar being
adorable is nice, too. i tried to give you all SOME happy in this chapter.

but yes, unfortunately, we have reached the heartbreak portion of this fic. it did, in fact,
utterly devastate me when writing james getting dumped and begging NOT to be
dumped. the most in character thing about james, though, is that the moment he realized
he was in love with regulus, he was like, oh! i want you! you're in love? omg, me too!
this poor boy. i love him so.
 ACT FOUR: Part Three
Chapter Notes

well, im posting a day early. sue me.

warnings for this chapter: angst! tears! some fighting! basically, no one's having a good
time! there is a bit of fighting in which some characters get punched (no one you like, so
it's fine), but it's brief.

enjoy, i guess???

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Sirius, Peter, and Remus are loud when coming into the dorm, bright and vivacious with
laughter, chattering away about the massive tournament of gobstones that just took place in
the courtyard, an activity the three of them have participated in since third year, of which
James has been banned from since first. Peter is the best, and it sounds like he won.

"Prongs, you're not going to believe it!" Sirius bursts out loudly. "You should have seen Peter,
mate, he was fucking brilliant. He was—" Sirius stops suddenly. They all do, the long line of
them all holding onto each other, and James watches as their smiles fade one-by-one.
"James?"

"Hi, no, go on," James croaks, scrubbing furiously at his cheeks and doing his absolute best
to smile. It feels wobbly on his face, but he's trying. "Sorry, you were—you were saying?
Pete, did you win? I'm sure you were brilliant."

"James," Remus says quietly, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing," James replies reflexively, his ribcage feeling too small for all the turmoil in it. "It's
fine. Everything is fine. I'm listening, Wormtail. I know you were excited about the
tournament, and I'm sure you—"
"Fuck the tournament," Peter cuts in firmly, pulling away from under Remus' arm to move
towards him with a frown. "That's not as bloody important as whatever reason you're…" He
halts as he stops beside him, gaze flicking over him. "Merlin, you're a mess. What's—did
something—"

"I—" James sucks in a sharp breath, feeling it hitch in his throat, and his eyes are so puffy
and itchy already, yet they still have the capability of filling with tears.

"Oh no, please don't do that," Sirius blurts out, strained, and he moves forward to crouch
down in front of James where he sits over the side of his bed. Sirius grabs both of James'
hands in between his own palms like he's trying to hold them still, and maybe he is. They're
shaking. "Fucking hell, what is it, James? I've never seen you—is it Effie? Monty? Are they
—"

"No, no, Mum and Dad are fine," James says quickly, a shudder rippling through his body at
the mere insinuation that they're not. "It isn't like that. I—it's stupid, really."

"I'm sure it's not," Peter offers.

"We left you with Regulus," Remus murmurs, moving over to sit on the bed across from
James, which prompts Peter to sit next to him. Sirius shifts to sit beside James, still holding
onto his hands. Remus scans James' face. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine," James replies, and his voice cracks, and then there's nothing for it. He promptly
bursts into tears.

"Shit, James," Sirius breathes out, sounding horrified. His hand flings up to cup his neck, and
James folds over into him, pressing his face against Sirius' shoulder and hair. He's fucking
hyperventilating. "Okay, mate, that's—that's alright. Just lean on me, yeah? Breathe. It's
alright."

James all but clings to him, gripping the front of his shirt in a tight fist and fully, helplessly
sobbing into his throat. Sirius cups the back of his head and rubs his hand up and down
James' back, not saying a word. As many times as Sirius has come crying to James, who held
him and listened, and James has never once returned the favor. He's never really had to.

Sirius is warm and sturdy, and when he really makes the effort, no one gives hugs like he
does. There's something just so inherently comforting about him, for all that people like to
joke about his devil-may-care attitude and aloof nature and brooding moods. Anyone who
knows him, who truly knows him, would live and die by the fact that Sirius Black is one of
the most caring, wholesome people in this world. James loves him. Really and truly loves
him like no other.

If anyone could make him feel even marginally better at the moment by touch alone, it's
Sirius. James, who has been weeping very hard, very consistently for a very long time by this
point, finds himself comforted and calming in the circle of his best friend's grip. Nothing gets
better, really; Sirius just makes it more bearable. James is left hiccuping little breaths against
his skin, feeling really quite small and exhausted.

"I'm thirsty," James notes in a slight daze as he lifts his head, not even really thinking about
it, mostly just making the observation in faint surprise.

Nonetheless, Remus and Peter both spring up at the same time, doing a quick shuffle to see
who's going to go, and then it's Remus who inevitably ends up darting off to get a cup and
charm it full of water. He holds it out to James like he's being timed on it, eager to help.
James takes it. Drinks it. Feels a little less thirsty. Sniffles.

"Better?" Peter asks hopefully, and James glances around at all of them. He can see it, the
way they're all visibly distressed and not entirely sure what to do, because they've never had
to deal with a distraught James before.

It makes James feel oddly guilty. He clears his throat and looks down into the cup. "Yeah.
Cheers. I'm—I'm fine, really."

"Are you?" Sirius murmurs carefully.

"Yeah."
"No offense, mate, but you don't really seem fine. And look, I get it, yeah? We've all had our
moments, but there's always a reason, one way or another. The last I saw you, you were
laughing with Reggie. Did he do something?"

"No," James says, licking his lips, then he continues, "not really. I mean. Um."

Sirius' eyes narrow immediately. "He did. What did that little wankstain do? Did he—"

"We're not together anymore." James' eyes flutter shut as he violently clears the lump out of
his throat. At this point, he feels like digging it out with a fucking spoon. "Pretending. We're
not pretending to be together anymore, that is."

"No more plan?" Peter asks cautiously.

"No more plan," James confirms with a hoarse laugh, brittle behind his teeth. He bites down
on it, snapping it in half abruptly, because it too closely resembles the start of more sobbing
for his state of mind at the moment. "There's no need for it, as it turns out. Lily and I—we're
not going to happen. She, ah, came and talked to me for a bit, and apparently she's known all
along that I'd be a good boyfriend; she just doesn't want me, and that's—that's alright, really. I
think I… Well, I think I thought I needed her to want me for me to actually be worth
something, and that's not fair to her or our friendship, and it's not—it's not fair to me that I do
that to myself."

"Oh, mate, I'm so sorry," Sirius murmurs, his eyebrows furrowed as he frowns at him. "Of
course you're bloody well upset, having to come to terms with not getting the girl you've been
in love with since you were sodding eleven. I reckon that's as good a reason as any."

James blinks at him, his mouth opening and closing, and he feels so out of sorts by the sheer
incredulity that whips through him from how truly ridiculous that sounds. It feels like his
entire life has been upended and warped from the original perception he experienced it in.
Now, it's like he can see it for what it is. Just him chasing after someone who never wanted to
be chased. It was, at times, disrespectful and arrogant, and though he always meant well, he
wasn't taking her feelings into consideration, not in the beginning. He grew and learned and
changed—but how much, really?
Didn't he do the same thing to Regulus? Didn't he chase after Regulus every time he walked
away? James didn't stop; he kept chasing, and he couldn't respect the solid no, to the point
that Regulus had to quite literally make it a rule before he would subject himself to spending
time with James at all.

Regulus doesn't want to have anything to do with him, even if he loves him, and James can
feel that harsh, pitiful yearning in his chest to change his mind. To keep going, to keep
pushing, to come up with plans and plot out increasingly ridiculous ways to be enough. He
doesn't know how to give up. And has he learned anything at all?

But he loves me. He's in love with me, he said so, some whiny part of James' brain points out.
That's practically all he has at the moment, honestly. He's clinging to it helplessly.

"Well, I have some good news, and some...shocking news, probably. For you, at least," James
mumbles.

"What's that?" Sirius asks.

"The good news is, I moved on from Lily. I'm not in love with her anymore," James says
weakly. "The shocking news is, I'm now utterly, irreparably in love with your little brother."

"You—" Sirius blinks. "Wait, what?"

James nods wearily. "Yeah, so, it turns out that the whole fake dating bit was a little too real
for me, and I sort of, um, fell in love with him? I didn't realize, you see, because I was a bit
caught up in getting to be with him that I didn't really examine the fact that I want to be with
him."

"Knew it," Remus mutters, then immediately clears his throat and fixes his face into
something contrite when Sirius cuts him a sharp glance.
"Wait, so you—the whole time—" Sirius leans back a little and stares at James. "You mean
you…?"

"Yeah," James admits with a quiet huff of laughter, reaching back to rub the side of his neck
with a sheepish smile. "That's why I was so happy, really, because… Well, alright, it's a little
awful because it's all a mess. I was just really happy with him, and I'm really quite obsessed
with him, honestly. I just—I thought he didn't want me, but it turns out he does. He loves me.
He said that."

"I knew that part," Peter comments, shrugging when Remus glances over at him in surprise.
"What? How Regulus felt was obvious. You guessed James, but not him?"

"No, not really," Remus admits. "I suppose all Black family members are bound to confound
me."

Peter clicks his tongue. "It's a shame. If you and I just talked about it, maybe we could have
—"

"If you two are quite finished," Sirius snaps, and they immediately shut up. He exhales
sharply and turns to focus on James. "You—and Regulus?"

"I want him. Sirius, I love him," James whispers, staring at him imploringly, inwardly
pleading with him to just be alright with it. He even says it, just blurts out, "Please be alright
with it."

"I'd be more alright with it if you weren't sobbing your eyes out five seconds ago," Sirius says
stiffly. "His fault?"

"Well," James mutters, "er, sort of, but—"

Sirius' eyes spark with fury all over again. "He upset you? He made you cry? Oh, I'll kill
him."
"I—no, don't do that. I appreciate the support, really, but it's not his fault, not exactly," James
says quickly. "I mean, I really think I buggered myself with this one. He thinks I don't
actually feel the same, so he just—he left. He left me."

"Oh, he's so stupid. You're both so bloody stupid," Sirius groans, reaching up to scrub both
hands over his face. When he drops them, he blows out a deep breath. "I don't understand.
None of this makes sense."

"He said—" James swallows harshly. "He said he's been second to Lily the entire time, while
it was all fake, and he won't be the person I settle for just because I can't have her."

"Oh, Reggie," Sirius says softly, his eyes sinking shut.

James makes a small, pitiful noise. "I made him cry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, Sirius. I'm so
sorry. I—I mucked it all up."

"Well…" Sirius' nostrils flare, and he flicks his gaze over the air like he's looking for
solutions, seeming very displeased at the moment. "Well, fucking fix it, James."

"I don't know how," James chokes out, and his flimsy grip on his emotional state abruptly
snaps as he promptly bursts into tears again.

"Dammit, Padfoot," Remus hisses. "Can't you be a bit more sensitive at the moment? He's
clearly fucking upset."

"Me? You're having a go at me for being insensitive, Moony? You?!"

"What's that supposed to mean? I can be sensitive!"

"Really? When have you ever been sensitive? Name one time that you have, even once, been
—"

"Oh, stop it!" Peter snaps. "Now is not the time for your bloody squabbling. Can't you see
that James is a mess right now?"

Sirius immediately shuts up and reaches over to pull James closer as he sheepishly says,
"Right, of course. No, this is… I mean, it's alright, yeah? Listen, it'll all work out. If he said
he loves you, you've already won the war. You'll, ah, just have a few...battles to fight for him,
is all."

"Right, exactly. He loves you, so it'll be simple," Remus agrees supportively, only to freeze
when Sirius does a frantic slicing motion with his hand at his throat. "Ah, well, not too
simple. Which is fine. You love a challenge, don't you, Prongs?"

"Why won't it be simple?" James rasps as he pulls back to stare at Sirius through blurry, tear-
filled eyes.

"It's just…" Sirius bites his lip. "Mate, you've gone off and fallen in love with the second
most stubborn bloke in this castle. I'm first, and then it's him. My point is, Prongs,
you're...going to have to work at it a bit. He's—he struggles with some things, you know, so
you have to not give up on him. And if he loves you, you're not allowed to give up on him.
It's a rule I've been trying to live by from the moment I realized he still loved me, and I will
hold you to the same standard if you're determined to be with him genuinely."

"I'm—I am," James blurts out, blinking tears out of his eyes. He's never been more earnest in
his life. "I'm so fucking determined, Sirius, you have no idea. We haven't even been fake split
for an entire day, and I already miss him. I love him. I'm going to keep him forever. Are you
really alright with it?"

Sirius snorts. "Mate, I rather think I'm bloody used to you two by now, aren't I? Besides, you
can't have me, as Remus is the one my heart belongs to, so you'd have to settle for the next
best, wouldn't you?" He pauses, eyes bulging. "Wait, that was a joke. A very tasteless,
thoughtless joke. Obviously you're not settling for—oh, James, don't cry again, please."
"That's what he thinks, though," James croaks, hanging his head forward as the knowledge
sears through his chest. "He thinks I don't actually want him, that I'm just choosing him
because I can't have who I actually want, but he's who I actually want. Him. I—oh, it has to
be hurting him. How long has it hurt him? I never wanted to hurt him."

"Of course not," Peter says softly, leaning forward to reach out and squeeze his knee. "Just—
just go with another plan."

James sniffles and looks up. "What? Peter, no offense, but why the fuck would I ever try
another stupid plan?"

"Well, that's just the thing, isn't it?" Peter glances around as they all stare at him. "What do
we always do when plans start to fall apart, lads? We go with our backup plans."

"There wasn't a backup plan," James says.

Peter smiles. "So make one."

James doesn't realize how much he orchestrated seeing Regulus until he suddenly can't find
him anywhere. He finds he can't get a glimpse of Regulus at all.

They're in separate houses, in different years, and the only time they really would be forced
to see each other outside of actively trying to is at meals. Except Regulus stops going. He
doesn't show up, not to breakfast or lunch or supper, not the first day after their (fake)
breakup, or second, or third.

In those three days, James does not 'become okay', magically or otherwise. He is subdued,
persistently nauseous, and so fucking tired from all the sleep he's not getting. He stays up all
night, fucking crying, and holding their snitch, and shamefully watching Regulus' name on
the map where it never leaves the dungeons. James waits, but the name never moves.
It takes only two days for people to work out that something is wrong with James, which is
the curse of spending seven consecutive years being a bright source of entertainment and
energy. It takes Mary (of course it's Mary) only an hour to crack him open and ask, very
gently, if he and Regulus are still dating. Answering her to say that they weren't had honestly
been so fucking unbearable that he'd gotten up and skipped the rest of the day, moping about
in his bed. By the time the third day came round, everyone knew.

It's getting around the school quickly, the new gossip that everyone is whispering about and
fixated on. The first queer couple, broken up. Some people have nasty things to say about it;
others express their disappointment. James tries not to listen either way. He doesn't want to
hear any of it.

On the fourth morning, James is dragging. Remus, Sirius, and Peter had to be the ones to
encourage him out of bed this morning, which has literally never happened before, so they're
all looking at him in visible concern. It's getting irritating now, the way people won't let him
be fucking miserable in peace, without highlighting how strange of an occurrence it is. Yes,
he's very aware. He's not happy about it either, obviously.

When Regulus isn't at breakfast, or at lunch, James finds his willpower being absolutely
overtaken by his concern. Just—how the fuck is he eating? And James doesn't want to obsess
over it, but he can't help it. Yes, he does look immediately towards the Slytherin table at
every meal and check periodically throughout. Is that wrong? Just wanting to see him?
Wanting to know that he's alright?

At the end of lunch, James springs up the moment he sees his first opportunity—that being,
Pandora. She's leaving a little earlier than most, and James darts off after her, his heart racing
in his chest the whole way. He catches up to her outside the entrance, just a little up the
corridor, and the moment he calls her name, she halts. Her blonde hair slips over her shoulder
and she turns, very slowly, and glares right at him. Her eyes are so cold that he actually
falters, swallowing.

"I—um, hello," James rasps, exhaling a little shakily.

"What do you want?" Pandora asks, her voice flat and harsh in a way he's never heard from
her before.
James hesitates, but he's not a Gryffindor for nothing. Taking a deep breath, he mumbles, "I
just—I wanted to ask if… Well, I couldn't help but—I mean, I just sort of noticed that—that
Regulus isn't—that he doesn't come to meals anymore…"

"That's not a question. That's an observation. An astute one, yes, but are you expecting a
biscuit and a pat on the head for making it?" Pandora retorts sharply.

"No, I…" James shifts restlessly, his stomach in knots. The way she's looking at him, it's like
he's worth less than the dirt beneath her shoes, and she'd be more than happy to stomp on
him, too. "Is he—how is he eating? He is eating, right? Is he going to the kitchens? Is Barty
bringing him food? Why—"

"None of that—absolutely none of it—is any of your business, James," Pandora snaps, and
hearing her say his name like that, when she never has before, makes him feel small in his
skin, like his bones are shrinking. "He has his business, and you should mind your own. Fuck
off."

With that, she whips around and leaves him right where he's at, feeling ridiculously alone and
chastised. He backs up to the wall, closes his eyes, and gently bangs his head against it.

"I heard that Alyse heard from Genevieve that she saw Evan Rosier practically dragging
Regulus out of the loo because he was trying to drown himself in the toilets."

"Oh, well, I heard that Regulus was wailing and threatening to rip his chest open, but that
strange Ravenclaw friend of his begged him not to."

"No, no, someone said that he tried to throw himself off the astronomy tower because James
Potter got bored of him."
"Oh, please. There's no bloody chance. Bevell told Cora—who told me, of course—that
Regulus Black broke up with James, and someone claimed they saw him snogging Clive
Abrams in the library."

"I don't believe that for a second. There's no way Regulus broke it off with James. Why
would he? It's James Potter."

"Right, but you've seen how James has been. The poor thing never smiles anymore and he's
moping about like his life is over, and you remember how aggressive he was with Clive
during the match. Oh, Merlin! What if Regulus was sneaking about with Clive and broke
poor James' heart?"

"Wait! Wait, remember the party? Regulus never showed, did he, and James went looking for
him? What if he found him with Clive?!"

"Betty, Clive was at the party. That doesn't make any sense."

"Oh. Well, what if it was some other bloke, then?"

"I still don't think Regulus Black ended it. It would have to be James, wouldn't it? Regulus
would have to be an idiot to leave him, and he's practically disappeared now, hasn't he? Never
comes to meals or can be seen anywhere. What if he's so heartbroken he popped himself into
the bottom of the lake?"

"Shut up!" James explodes, and the entire courtyard falls silent. Peter—who James was
originally walking with—whips around up ahead, his eyes wide when he realizes that James
isn't shuffling silently behind him. He'd been a little halted by the absolutely riveting debate
(heavy on the sarcasm here) about the ruin of his relationship.

"Shit," one of the girls blurts out as her entire friend group whirls around on the bench and
stares at him with wide eyes, their mouths hanging open. "Wait, we didn't mean—"
"Oh, I know what you all bloody well meant," James snaps, his anger rattling like loose
mechanisms in his chest. His usual easy temperament has suffered a steadily growing strain,
a rope pulled taught until it just fucking snaps. It's been building and building, and now it
topples over. "And I meant it when I said shut up. It's no one's business what happened. Our
relationship wasn't for everyone else, alright? So, shut the fuck up and worry about your own
meaningless, pathetic—"

"James," Peter hisses, quickly moving over to grab his arm, but James shakes him off. "For
fuck's sake, they're girls, mate. Can't be any older than thirteen. Don't—"

"I don't care if they're three," James snaps, glaring at them as they all visibly shrink back.
"Clearly, they need to be taught some manners. For one, joking about Regulus drowning is
wrong. You all have detentions, every single one of you. I will be reporting to your Head of
House, and if I hear any of you or anyone else talking about Regulus again, I'll make sure
you're spit-shining rust off cauldrons until you're ninety, so gossip about that instead. Am I
understood?"

"Yes. Sorry. We're sorry," is the mumbled responses he gets, and multiple of the girls look
close to tears. He should care about that. He wishes he cared about anything.

"And, for the fucking record," James grits out, "Regulus wasn't sneaking about with anyone
else. Go—study, or something, and leave your noses out of things that don't concern you." He
stares at them, and they're still just frozen in place, so he scowls and barks, "Now! That
wasn't a request!"

Immediately, the entire group scatters. At least two of the girls burst into tears, but James just
huffs and whips around to stomp off in the opposite direction. People turn away as he
marches past, heads ducked, but one particularly familiar group of boys can be seen
muttering to each other and snickering under their breath as they watch him and nudge each
other with their elbows, apparently entertained by his display. Avery, Wilkes, and three other
blokes, one of which is a Raveclaw while the other two are younger Slytherins.

James stops.

Peter grabs his arm again. "Prongs, don't."

"Do you have something you want to say?" James calls out anyway, swiveling to head right
for them. "Was something about that funny to you?"

"Watching you verbally abuse thirteen year old girls because you miss your boyfriend?"
Wilkes replies. "Yeah, actually, that was sodding hilarious."

"Wait, wait, not his boyfriend now," Avery teases with a mock-pout. "You seem sad about
that, Potter. Was it love, or was he just that good at sucking your—"

"You might want to shut your fucking mouth," Peter cuts in coldly, no longer holding onto
James' arm.

"Or what? There's five of us and two of you, and it's not like you can do anything, short as
you are."

"Better to reach your kneecaps with. If you'd like to keep them, you'll be on your way."

"Ooh, our kneecaps," is the response, stifled laughter and more nudges. "He's coming for our
kneecaps now, lads. Don't make me laugh, Pettigrew; everyone knows you barely can tell
which end to hold your wand from. Wouldn't have made it this far without Black, Potter, and
Lupin pulling you through. You must be used to it now, always being last after your mates."

"Oh, you're right," Peter says with a sigh, holding up his wand to squint at it. "I can never tell.
Help me out, would you?" He lazily points his wand, and one of the blokes flies back with a
yelp as he's knocked over into the fountain behind him with a loud splash. Peter raises his
eyebrows. "Ah, so it's that end."

"You'll pay for that!" is the last thing that's shouted before James and Peter are in an all-out
brawl.
James, who is itching for it, is thriving. He's pent-up and angry and miserable, and all of it is
muffled under the rush of the fight, of tossed spells and insults and loud swearing. For the
first time since Regulus walked away from him, he doesn't feel on the verge of unraveling.

Things get a bit mental when Wilkes mocks him by loudly saying, "Are you still defending
your boyfriend, Potter, even when you're not together anymore? Don't you know he's hiding
in his dorm, weeping about you? He's fucking path—"

He never gets to finish, because Barty comes quite literally out of nowhere and punches
Wilkes right in the face. He genuinely just darts right into the fray, spells rolling right off his
robes, because he's always infusing them with protective magic now. James remembers, and
it clearly comes in handy. He moves like a God, a bundle of righteous fury as he knocks
Wilkes so hard that he crumbles to the ground. He proceeds to spit on the ground in front of
him and point his wand at the rest, while Peter summons water from the fountain to splash
down all over them and James fully just throws his fist into Avery's face the moment he
launches himself at Barty.

James' hand makes a sickening crunch, but he doesn't regret it at all. It's the second time he's
broken his hand this year, but at least he remembers it this time. The pain of it is startling,
though, so he draws back while cursing violently, then feels the emotion that can only be
described as fuck it.

"Come on, come on!" the Ravenclaw boy yelps, stumbling out of the fountain and taking off
with the two younger Slytherins hot on his trail.

"Get lost if you know what's good for you," Barty snaps at Wilkes, wand pointed directly at
his face.

Avery and Wilkes, who are now outnumbered, make a less than graceful retreat. They call
vague threats, but they're both cupping their faces, so it hardly has any impact.

As soon as they're gone, James groans and cradles his hand to his chest as he folds over a
little. "Fucking ow."
"Learn to throw a punch, Potter," Barty says sharply, shaking his head. "Someone's gone off
running to get a Professor, so you might want to get away from here, both of you."

"Wait," James blurts out the moment Barty starts to turn and walk away. Barty glances back.
"Wait, just—Regulus—"

"No," Barty interrupts, eyes cold. "Don't bother. You can punch all the people in his honor
that you like, but that doesn't change what you've done to him."

"Barty, please," James chokes out.

Scoffing, Barty looks him up and down, and James feels small. He feels like he's shrinking in
on himself, and maybe he deserves to. He deserves to feel like this, for all that he's done to
Regulus. "I told you to do better, Potter, not fucking worse."

"I—I tried," James rasps, his eyes stinging. The fight is over, and the misery is back. He can't
escape it. "I really tried."

"It wasn't enough," Barty replies harshly.

James' eyes sink shut. I'm not enough, I'm never enough, nothing I do is enough. It's a mantra
carved into his heart; he can feel it circulating in his blood throughout his whole body. He's
made of it, all the things that aren't enough. Never, never enough. He'd have to bleed himself
dry to be clean of it, and for Regulus, he thinks he would. He thinks that's what's happening
to him now. It feels like his life is being drained away, wrung out like blood pooling on the
ground.

"I know," James whispers, but when he opens his eyes, Barty is already gone.

"Come on," Peter says gently, reaching out to cup his elbow and get him to walk. "Let's get
you to the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey will take care of your hand."
"Thanks, Pete," James croaks, trying so very hard not to cry. He's trying so hard to do so
many things; be so many things. He's trying. This is him trying.

And it's not enough.

"Dorcas," James tries, watching in despair as Dorcas immediately gets up from the table to
leave her seat next to Marlene with a quick kiss to her cheek.

Dorcas barely even spares him a glance as she walks away, tossing a lazy, "Die," over her
shoulder as she goes.

James deflates.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall says, "if I may…"

"Yes, Professor?" James murmurs, turning away from the door where he was just about to
leave detention—still writing lines about not inflicting violence on fellow students. By now,
these detentions have become monotonous. He still has nightmares about Regulus wading
into the lake; he doesn't think very much about Mulciber anymore, though.

"I wanted to remind you that my office is always open to any student who feels the need to
talk about anything, Potter, be that of educational matters or...personal," McGonagall informs
him, holding his gaze.

James releases a soft laugh without any humor. "Oh, you want to hear about my personal
matters, do you?"
"I have no desire to pry, only to offer a willing ear," is McGonagall's calm response.

"I'm fine, but thank you," James snaps. "May I go now?"

McGonagall regards him for a long moment, lips pressed into a thin line, and then she says,
"You may."

James turns and leaves immediately, without a cheerful goodbye that he would usually offer
her, and he can't even bring himself to feel bad about it. He just—really doesn't care very
much about…very much at all, if he's honest. He's never once felt apathy in his life before
this, but he's very quickly becoming accustomed to it.

On the way back to the dorm, he takes a corner and bumps directly into Evan, and James
feels his heart immediately start picking up the pace. Evan is just one person closer to
Regulus, one of his best friends, someone who is undoubtedly talking to him every day, and
seeing him, and knowing how he is.

James' hands come up automatically to catch Evan by the arms so they don't stumble, and
Evan's hands do the same, and all James can think as Evan touches him is that he may have
also touched Regulus recently, so the warmth of his palms could be mingled with the warmth
of Regulus' skin, and oh, James is fucking insane. He feels fucking insane. It's like he's being
driven slowly, painfully mad. He's missing Regulus through the palms of someone else's
hands. That's utter madness.

"Evan," James blurts out, sucking in a sharp breath.

Evan's hands rip away from him like he's been burned. His nostrils flare, and he says, very
sharply, "Potter."

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't—" James swallows thickly and rubs his hands on his thighs. "Didn't
hear you coming, I suppose. That was—that was my fault, most likely. Sorry."
Evan makes a quiet, disgusted tch noise and brushes off his sleeves where James' hands just
were, like his mere touch is filth. Nevermind that he's never done that to James before. He
doesn't accept the apology, or refute it; just simply swivels around James and keeps on going,
like James doesn't even exist, like bumping into him is the equivalent of stepping into dung
and once he's essentially scraped it off the sole of his shoe, he wants to get as far away as
possible.

It stings, honestly, because… Well, James didn't even realize it, not fully, but in his endeavor
to get Regulus' friends to like him, he sort of ended up liking them in return, Evan especially.
Being snubbed by him actually hurts, James finds.

"Evan," James calls after him, his voice hoarse. "Is Regulus—" The name catches in his
throat, and Evan stops. Evan turns very slowly and stares at him boldly, holding his gaze like
he's challenging him. It takes a second, but James locates the bravery, or stupidity, or just the
audacity to continue. "I was just going to ask if maybe he's—just how he is, I suppose. Is
he… Um, how is he, then?"

"You're only still alive because I made a promise," Evan informs him bluntly, jaw clenched.
"But you of all people should know that some people make promises they'll inevitably break,
so for sake of all the life in your eyes and the air in your lungs, you're going to walk the fuck
away."

"Evan—"

"Potter, I'm not actually joking."

"I didn't—I know what you're talking about, and I didn't," James insists, because he
remembers quite well the promise he made to Evan at the first queer club meeting. James
tried to keep it, but Regulus made no such promises. "I'm not sure what he told all of you, but
he's the one who wouldn't—"

"Merlin, you're fucking dim," Evan spits, scowling. "Just stop. Just leave it alone and stay the
fuck away from him."
James wants to scream I can't, but that gets blocked by the lump that forms in his throat from
Evan pivoting on his heel and striding away without looking back.

It takes everything in James not to turn and strike out at the wall with his fist. He actually
starts to, then catches himself at the last second, holding his breath as everything seems to
rattle harshly in his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut and taps his fist against the wall as he
leans forward and rests his forehead there as well, just breathing for a long moment.

When James makes it back into the dorm, there's a black dog of substantial size lying on the
foot of his bed. Padfoot raises his head, ears perking, and James struggles not to cry. Remus
and Peter must be out, or asleep early, which is just as well. James crawls into his bed,
shutting his curtains, and then he watches as Padfoot inches closer to him, tail hesitantly
thumping against the mattress.

Shuddering out a deep breath, James reaches down and cups Padfoot's head in his hands,
leaning over to press their foreheads together. The tail stops. James hears a harsh choking
noise escape his throat, and Padfoot shuffles forward some more, letting James slip his arms
around the shaggy fur at his neck, fisting it as he breaks down for the second time and weeps
against his best friend.

There's something inherently comforting about dogs, isn't there? Maybe that's why Sirius'
animagus is one. James can't stop himself from burying his face into Padfoot's fur and
holding onto him, and Padfoot nudges at his cheek with his wet nose, releasing a low,
mournful whine that only succeeds in making James sob harder.

In the end, Padfoot sleeps with him that night, all through the night, a line of heat and soft fur
that James clings to, curled around like a sad boy with his dog. The next morning, Remus
finds them and starts to tease, only to stop the moment Padfoot outright growls at him.
Remus stares at Padfoot, and Padfoot stares back, snout wrinkled into a snarl of warning, and
with that, Remus clears his throat and backs away without another word. He must warn Peter,
who doesn't make one comment when eventually coming over to say good morning.

James skips breakfast, and Padfoot skips with him, his large head lying over on James' chest
as James scratches behind his ears and stares at the canopy without really seeing it.
"I'm trying, you know. I'm really trying," James whispers, and Padfoot lets out a low rumble
that belays agreement. James exhales deeply, then sits up. "We have class, Padfoot."

And so, they get up and go. Sirius doesn't mention any of it, and James is grateful. He doesn't
want to talk about it.

On the fifth night, Regulus' name on the map leaves the dorms. James lasts approximately
twenty seconds before he can't take it anymore, and then he springs up, grabs the map Sirius
left on his stand and his cloak, then makes a break for it. Behind him, he can hear Sirius
calling after him, hissing his name in pure exasperation, but James doesn't turn back.

James is so single-mindedly focused on getting to Regulus right now that he doesn't realize,
halfway there, that Mrs. Norris is in front of him before he quite literally trips over her. He
goes down with a yelp, taken by surprise, and she starts howling immediately. The cloak
bunches up and slips off, and the too-close sound of Flich coming makes James panic. He
scrambles for his cloak to ball it up and stuff it in his robes, diving for the map to frantically
hiss, "Mischief Managed," just as Flich comes swinging around the corner.

There's nothing for it. James is just sitting there, sprawled on the floor, the map hanging limp
and blank in his grip as he gapes helplessly at Filch in pure despair. Mrs. Norris hisses at him
before scampering off to wind her way between Filch's legs, and he looks so smug that
James' shoulders slump.

"My, we are in trouble, aren't we?" Filch asks.

James drops his head forward and groans.

This blunder does not go over very well with everyone the following evening as they're all
getting ready to go to the queer meeting, which is when he plucks up the courage to actually
confess this horrible grievance.
"I can't believe you lost the map!" Peter bursts out, hopping around as he shoves his shoe
onto his foot. "How could you? We worked so hard on that, Prongs!"

"I'm sorry," James whines. "It was fucking Mrs. Norris."

Peter makes a tch noise. "It's always bloody her, isn't it? She's my nemesis, you know.
Always chasing me about the castle when I'm going as Wormtail. There's nothing like the
stress of a cat trying to eat you, mate. It's horrid."

"I don't understand how you have detentions set until you graduate, and now you have more,"
Remus says incredulously, shoving his head through his jumper.

"That is a precious artifact for us," Sirius tells James with a huff, "and now we'll never get it
back from Flich! Prongs, we were meant to pass that on to our child!"

"Yeah!" Peter agrees. "Our lovely little prankster child, who would have surely used it to
create mischief in our stead! It was our legacy, and now our child will never have it!"

"I know, I'm sorry," James says, whining again.

Remus tilts his head. "Who's child, exactly?"

"Ours!" Sirius and Peter burst out at the same time, waving their arms around to encompass
all of them.

"I wasn't aware that we would all be having a child together; this is news to me. James, were
you aware?" Remus asks, glancing over at him in amusement.

James scratches the side of his head. "Yeah, of course, Moony. Wait, you didn't know? How
could you not know?"
"Genuinely, how did you not know this?" Sirius squints at Remus. "Do we not share
everything already?"

"But children, Padfoot?" Remus tries, exasperated.

"Yes, all of them," Sirius says rather seriously. "Every child produced or stolen by us will
automatically be shared."

"Stolen?" Remus sputters.

Sirius hums. "Sure. Some children deserve to be stolen and even prefer it. That's what Effie
and Monty did, if you think about it. They steal children all the time, so it's alright."

"That's not—"

"Don't you want to steal children with me, Moony?"

"Well, I hardly need to, do I, if I'm being dragged into raising children against my will?"
Remus replies dryly.

"Now he's getting it," Peter declares brightly.

"I really am sorry," James announces miserably. "I was just really trying to—ah, well—"

Remus snorts. "Yes, we know. All in the name of love, mate, we get it. They'll get over it.
Maybe the next couple of mischief makers will find their way to it, like fate."
"Maybe in a few decades, and then poor McGonagall can faint when she hears some children
talking about Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," Sirius says, grinning. "Imagine it,
lads, she thinks she'll be free of us, but she never will, not really. We'll always exist in this
castle."

"Besides," Peter adds, stealing one of Remus' knitted hats from Marlene to stuff on his head,
apparently in no mood to deal with his hair, "it was in the name of love, and we can't really
be angry about that. Suspect you'll see Regulus tonight, won't you? You must be excited."

"Merlin, you're going to absolutely bombard him at the meeting, aren't you?" Remus asks,
amused.

James hums. "Oh, absolutely."

Or not.

Regulus isn't at the meeting.

Alright, fine. That's fine. James is fine with this. He can be patient. He can wait for Regulus
to inevitably show his face at some point. He'll go to classes, and meals, and carry on like
normal—and when Regulus eventually shows back up, James will just...talk to him. Calmly.
Casually.

The problem is, James is a very impatient person when it comes to circumstances such as
this. He wants to find Regulus right now and—and, well, snog him, honestly. Oh, he's always
wanting to kiss Regulus, isn't he? How did he not know that he was in love with him? James
spent the better part of two months trying to kiss Regulus every minute of every day,
anywhere at any time, and never once thought much of it.

It wasn't even about putting on a show. He was just that genuinely happy that he didn't even
stop to think about why. Oh, he was so happy with Regulus, just spending time with him,
talking to him, laughing with him, bickering with him, looking at him and touching him and
kissing him and breathing the same air as him. It never occurred to him that he was in love.
Why not? He's retroactively offended with his past self for never even considering it,
infuriated by that version of him that went on thinking he wasn't. Fucking idiot.

But, well, he never really had anyone suggest or ask, and he didn't stop to think about it. Why
would he? Everything was so wonderful, and thinking about it would lead to problems,
seeing as he was under the impression that Regulus didn't actually want him. Still, he's a very
loyal person, and so he's annoyed with himself on Regulus' behalf anyway.

James tries Regulus' friends, who are infuriatingly tight-lipped and commendably loyal. He's
turned away countless times, and none of them will even let him really get a word in before
they're proverbially (and rather eloquently) ripping him to shreds. Barty hexes him once,
Dorcas has to be gently pushed back by Marlene, and Pandora trips him with her foot the
time he tries to follow them. Evan just looks disappointed, which is somehow so much worse.
James rather misses them, actually.

Sirius is sheepish about the whole thing. At one point, when James is complaining that his
brother is so fucking evasive, Sirius just says, with some chagrin, "Yeah, I know he is, mate,
sorry. He'll stop running eventually. Steady on."

Miserably, James shuffles around and eventually ends up back with his friends, feeling rather
dejected and lonely. He's not expecting to have his spirits lifted, but they are.

Lily and Mary never made an announcement, really. If he's honest, James hasn't really
checked to see if anything came of them talking, but he has caught a few things that everyone
else seemed to miss, or dismiss as meaningless, because they're both girls who are friends.
Things like their pinkies hooked together between their legs on the settee in the common
room, or Lily blushing and ducking her head when Mary tucks her hair behind her ear with a
grin, or Mary stumbling down from her dorm with bright eyes, smelling distinctly of Lily's
perfume that James would know anywhere, while Lily follows a few moments later, grinning
at everyone and everything.

No else seems to think much of it, except for Remus, who can be found tucking his lips in to
hide a small smile, raising his eyebrows at Lily, who looks so pleased with herself these
days.
James is happy for them. Really, he is. He's pretty sure they're just taking their time to enjoy
themselves and figure out how they work before telling anyone. It's only coming up on a
week now, and no matter how things have gotten better for queer people in the castle, or how
supportive everyone is sure to be, James thinks it makes complete sense that they'd want to
explore their relationship alone, without prying eyes or external input. But he sees it, and he's
happy. He truly is.

Just—well, sometimes, James feels his stomach lurch when looking at them, and he finds
himself watching them. Not Lily specifically, or Mary, but the way they touch, the smiles
they share, how their eyes follow each other around the room. The awkward moments where
they're still clearly trying to work out how to balance that feeling of friendship with
something more. The lovely moments where they do, inevitably, work it out and find
themselves visibly happier off for it.

The queer club meeting is where it becomes obvious to everyone else, though that'd be hard
to miss, considering the fact that snogging is a bit hard to brush off as girls just being close,
affectionate friends. As this is the safest possible space for such a thing, James isn't surprised
that it happens here.

Sirius' mouth drops open when he sees it, and he blurts out, "Merlin, is that—are they—"

"Snogging?" Remus prompts smugly. "Yes, indeed they are."

"I...did not see that coming," Peter says weakly.

Sirius huffs out an incredulous laugh. "Neither did I, Wormtail, neither did I. Goodness,
they're really going for it, aren't they? I've snogged Mary; she does not mess about when it
comes to snogging."

"Is that right?" Remus asks, though he mostly sounds lighthearted, not truly upset or jealous.
If James recalls, Remus had spent the entirety of Sirius and Mary's relationship in sixth year
absolutely seething, so he's come a long way.
"Moony, my love, your lips are made for mine, have no doubts, but I will not do Macdonald
the dishonor of slandering her snogging skills just to appease you," Sirius teases.

Remus snorts. "That's fine. Lily seems to be enjoying them, in any case. I'm so proud of her,
is that silly?"

"Mm, not at all," Sirius assures him, chuckling.

"That's actually really sweet," Peter whispers, sounding a little choked up. "Mary told me
once that she thought Lily would never even consider dating her. I mean, she said it so off-
hand, like it didn't bother her, but I remember thinking it did. Look at them now."

"It's lovely," James says softly, feeling his chest grow warm as he watches Lily press a smile
against Mary's cheek, her green eyes sparkling with triumph all the way across the room.

That's the highlight of James' night, honestly. Regulus never shows, and James travels back to
the common room with Mary and Lily when they head there, trailing along with his mind
fixated on Regulus, where he might be, what he must be doing. He can't stop thinking about
him. He misses him.

Mary (it's always Mary) is the first to pick up on the fact that something has shifted. She says,
"James, am I wrong, or are you trying to get Baby Black back?"

"Are you ever wrong?" James asks.

"I knew it!" Lily gasps from where she's sitting on Mary's lap, Mary's hands braced lightly on
the wide curve of her hips. She shifts in apparent excitement, her skirt riding up, and Mary
tugs it down for her with a small frown. "Oh, I knew you would go after him again. This is
good."

"Is it?" James says, startled. "I honestly didn't expect you of all people to encourage me to
relentlessly chase after someone."
Lily rolls her eyes. "Well, of course not, if they don't want you to. Regulus obviously does."

"He does? How do you know?" James blurts out, leaning forward earnestly, and Lily's face
softens.

"Oh, whatever reason you two split is just rubbish; that boy is smitten with you," Mary tells
him with a snort. "No one who looks at someone the way he looks at you doesn't want to be
chased. Why did you two break it off anyway?"

"Did you get into a row?" Lily frowns. "One domestic doesn't have to be the end of a
relationship, James. All couples fight."

"Well, er, it's—it's a bit of a funny story, actually." James coughs, grimacing. "Um,
not...really funny at all, if I'm honest. See, Regulus and I… We weren't dating."

Mary and Lily stare at him.

James explains. It's rather embarrassing to do, admittedly, and he has to start over when
Marlene comes in and asks what they're talking about. Sirius, Remus, and Peter also wander
in, but they know all of this, so they're basically just there for support. James' explanation
does not go over well.

"You utter fucking twat, James Potter!" Lily shrieks at him, just like old times. "How could
you be so—so arrogant to come up with a plot to—" She releases a strangled noise, coming
out of Mary's lap, her face a furious red. "You're my friend! I thought you had enough
sodding respect—"

"Lily, wait, please," James cuts in, wincing. "I'm—I'm sorry, alright? I am your friend, I
swear it! I'm so happy to be your friend, just your friend, and I—Merlin, I have so much
respect for you. I really do. I just thought—"
Lily's eyes flash as she steps forward to loom over where he's sitting on the settee, and she's
still just as beautiful as he's always known her to be, but all he wants—still—is Regulus.
"You thought you'd manipulate my feelings for you by, what, making me jealous?! How thick
can you be, Potter?"

"No!" James blurts out. "I swear I wasn't. I just wanted to show you that I could be a good
boyfriend."

"You knew I only saw you as a friend!" Lily shouts. "The whole time, you were using
someone else, hurting him, and for what?! To show off?! How can you even—"

"It was never about you!" James explodes, and it's so loud that everyone leans back, gaping
at him. "It was about me, alright?! I wasn't fucking showing off; I was trying to be enough!"

Things get very quiet.

James releases a deep, shaky breath as he blinks rapidly. He reaches up and drags his palm
down over his mouth, his mind feeling like it's limping a little, a bit wounded. His voice is a
harsh croak as he says, "I just never feel like I'm enough."

"If you expect me to feel sympathy for you because you can't cope with not being the center
of attention or admired by all just as you desperately wish to, then you're the same arrogant
prat I always knew you were," Lily says sharply, her face still red. There are tears gathering
in her eyes. "I trusted you, James. I trusted you as my friend. Fuck you."

With that, Lily whips around and rushes off, her hair flying out behind her. James groans as
she goes, plopping down on the settee again in defeat. "Oh, now they're both mad at me."

Mary stands up quickly, glancing over at James with a grimace. "It's not—it isn't just about
you, James. All of this, I mean. You get that, don't you?"

"Snape?" James asks, swallowing.

"You're not exactly the first friend she's had that desired her more than respected her," Mary
says, clipped, and then she shakes her head and follows after Lily.

James tilts his head back. "Well, fuck."

Lily won't talk to him for the next two days after that, won't even look at him, and it's
Marlene who advises him to give her some space. James does. It sits in the pit of his stomach,
an acrid ball of pure guilt, but he does.

It hits him rather hard, the lack of her presence as his friend, because he's come to expect it
and appreciate it so very much, only to go and muck it up. The comparison to Snape only
makes him feel worse, most especially because he knows how awful she felt in the aftermath
of the end of their friendship. He never intended to make her feel that way, and she certainly
doesn't deserve it. So, if she hates him and wants nothing to do with him—well, it's a little
late, but he'll respect it.

It sets him back a bit with Regulus, admittedly, because he's still not showing up, and James
doesn't have the map to locate him. He starts second-guessing himself constantly about
whether or not he should keep trying, because what if that's wrong, too? It isn't until Sirius
tells him to not give up that he gives in to the urge.

By the end of the week, Regulus hasn't shown up once, Lily hasn't spoken to him once, and
James sort of just wants to curl up in a ball and disappear from the world. He's wracked with
guilt, constantly berating himself for his own stupidity, and coming to grips with the horrible
fact that he's hurt two of the people in the world he's claimed to love.

James is all but ready to melt into his bed and never resurface, but Peter gives him a rather
rallying speech, Remus drags him out by his feet, and Sirius shoves him out the door. They
think him getting out of bed would be 'good for him'.

As soon as he sees Lily sitting on the settee in the common room, and she looks up to see
him, he hangs his head forward and turns to go right back up. It's late, the common room is
empty other than her, and he doesn't want to intrude, especially when she's upset with him—
which she has every right to be.
Lily heaves a sigh and says, "James."

"Yeah?" James blurts out, whipping around eagerly almost instantly, then forcing himself to
calm down a bit.

"Come sit," Lily mutters.

James goes and sits, staring down at his lap. "Hello."

"Hi," Lily replies flatly, and he glances at her warily, which makes her roll her eyes. "Oh,
stop it. Just—what were you thinking? I don't understand at all."

"I—I don't really know anymore," James mumbles. "I just felt like maybe you'd see that I
was worthy if I showed you."

"Did I make you feel unworthy?" Lily asks.

"I…" James swallows and stares at her with his eyebrows furrowed. She's frowning. "Well,
maybe a little, yeah. I know I wasn't—I mean, I'm very aware that I was a prat. A bully. Even
entitled at times. But I wasn't—you wouldn't see me past that for so long, even when I
changed, even when I learned. It was so nice, you know, when you actually became my
friend. You truly have no idea how much I've always valued your opinion."

"James," Lily says, still frowning, and that's all she says. She can't seem to figure out where
to go from there.

"It's not your fault that I—" James blows out a deep breath and rubs his thighs, squeezing his
eyes shut. "I decided I was in love with you when I was eleven, and we'd end up together, our
own happily ever after. I was eleven, so I obviously had no idea what the bloody hell I was
on about, but that choice stuck with me. And, for a long time, I didn't consider what you
wanted, or didn't. I realized I was wrong, that I was doing it all wrong, just about in sixth
year, wasn't it? When I actually started getting to properly know you, and let you know me,
and we became friends. And that was important to me; it's still important to me. I've always
been grateful to be your friend."

Lily is scanning his face when he opens his eyes, and she looks frustrated. "So, why would
you…do this?"

"I was still—I was clinging, I guess," James admits with a weary sigh. "I loved you for years,
or I thought I did, and I couldn't even conceptualize that I didn't. And I—well, I've realized
that I sort of have a bit of a problem where I feel like I have to prove that I'm worthy of being
wanted to be wanted. That's not your fault, obviously. None of this is your fault. It's just my
own issues, and I—Lily, I'm sorry."

"But I can't grasp why you felt that you had to prove yourself to me when I made it very clear
to you that I was your friend and only wanted to be your friend," Lily whispers. Her green
eyes are shining. "I'm a person, James. You're supposed to value me, not how I can make you
feel. You're supposed to listen and respect the things I tell you."

James' breath catches in his chest, and his eyes sting, his throat bobbing on yet another harsh
swallow. "I'm sorry. Merlin, Lily, I'm so fucking sorry. I do value you, truly; I just think I
didn't value myself."

"I—you know, I thought…" Lily blinks and reaches up to dash a tear from her cheek. It
makes him want to fold over and wail at the top of his lungs that he's at fault for it. "It just
feels like it was all a lie, in some way. Christ, James, I came to you with my feelings for
Mary. Do you not realize that I value you and your opinion? What do you have to prove to
me to be worthy when I already love you just as you are?"

"I—I didn't know before, but I know now," James chokes out, his shoulders wrenching up. "I
knew then when all I wanted was for you to be happy. I swear to you, Lily, I just want you to
be happy. I'm sorry—I'm so sorry that I've hurt you."

Lily sniffles a little. Her nose is pink. "I know. I know you're sorry. I'm not—I don't know. It's
also just… I really admired you for your relationship with Regulus, and it inspired me, and so
many others, and to learn that it was all fake—"
"It wasn't," James blurts out, and Lily blinks. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you, but it—it
wasn't all fake. It was real. Well, it wasn't, but it also was. Lily, I love him."

"Alright, well now I'm just confused," Lily mumbles.

James laughs weakly. "Yeah, it's a bit of a mess. See, ah, it stopped being about you the
moment I kissed him the first time, I think, and I didn't even realize it. I fell in love with him,
Lily. I really, really did."

"So, you weren't just using him?" Lily asks, searching his eyes.

"No," James says, and some of the tension leaves her shoulders. "I mucked it all up with him.
He—he thinks I'm settling for him because I can't have you, but it's him I want. But—but I
didn't tell him in enough time."

"Why?" Lily asks, lips tipping down. "You spent years telling me at every available
opportunity, but not him?"

"I spent years telling someone I wanted them only to end up feeling like I wasn't enough,"
James whispers. "It hurt, Lily, and I—I know that's not your fault. It's just painful wanting
someone who doesn't want you back, and so I did my best not to do it again, because I didn't
know he wanted me at all. I was scared. It was...some form of self-defense, because I knew.
Deep down, I knew. I'm supposed to be brave when it comes to love; you'd think that,
wouldn't you, after all the years I kept trying with you? But I think I got tired and jaded,
without even knowing it. I want to try and do better now, but what if it's too late? What if I
ruined it? What if—"

"James," Lily says gently.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," James admits, his heart aching. "I was so happy
with him. I've never felt—well, I want to say I've never felt about anyone the way I do him,
but I suppose that'd be a disservice to you, wouldn't it?"
Lily cocks her head. "But is it true?"

"I never got to be with you, so yeah," James tells her, and she narrows her eyes at him. He
huffs. "That's the thing, isn't it? I don't want to be with you anymore. Haven't for a while, it
turns out. I just—I was really confused, and I was scared, and it all became such a mess. I'm
sorry I got you caught in it. I'm sorry I didn't value you as I should have from the start, and
I'm sorry I've made you feel used. My intentions—well, it hardly matters how pure they were
if they hurt you, really, but I'd like you to know that being your friend was never a lie."

"No?" Lily asks, voice small.

"No. No, of course not," James whispers earnestly, holding out his hand in offering, palm up.
He's so relieved when she reaches out to take it, and he squeezes it gently. "Lily Evans, I've
spent many years trying to make you fall in love with me, and here I am now begging you to
just be my friend instead. Just my lovely, slightly volatile friend who I love just as you are.
That's all. That's all I want from you."

"You've had that for some time now," Lily murmurs, squeezing his hand back. "And—and
you know you can just...talk to me, yeah? If you feel like you're not enough, you can just ask
for the reminder that you are. We all need that sometimes."

James quirks a sad smile. "I didn't know that I was allowed to, I think. Regulus taught me
that. He reminded me before I ever knew I needed to hear it."

"He was so good for you," Lily says with a wistful sigh. "The way you were with him…
James, how could you not see it?"

"I was too busy doing it," James admits.

Lily huffs out a laugh. "Oh, James. You are so…"

"Stupid?"

"Well, a bit, but not...maliciously. I know you didn't do this with malicious intentions."

"Do you—do you forgive me for it, then?" James asks, more hopeful than he can ever
express, staring at her with wide eyes, practically strangling her hand from the stress.

"I forgive you," Lily replies simply, and James thinks he might start crying, and then she
narrows her eyes at him. "I forgive you on the condition that you never try to make me fall in
love with you ever again, James."

James nods quickly. "No, definitely not."

"And Regulus?" Lily prompts. "Are you going to…?"

"I can't bloody find him," James whines, immediately deflating, and Lily looks amused
almost instantly. "Lily, you have no idea. He never stays put! He's always running."

Lily's lips twitch. "Well, lucky you like chasing, then."

"I—yeah, alright, I do," James agrees sheepishly, "but I really just...miss him. Merlin, where
is he?"

"Oh, he'll turn up, I'm sure." Lily pulls her hand from his to pat his arm. "You hardly need to
make him fall in love with you. There's no mistaking that."

James sounds stupid and breathless when he beams at her and leans in to whisper, "You really
think so?"
 "Since you value my opinion so much, yes, I do think so. And I'm happy for you," Lily tells
him, her lips curling up.

"He told me he does," James says dreamily. "He did and I'm still hesitant to hope, but I can't
help it. I really love him."

Lily snorts. "You're hopeless. How you didn't know, I will never understand. Go to bed,
James. Get some sleep. He'll turn back up eventually, and that's when you go for it."

"Lily," James says as he stands.

"Yes?"

"I really am sorry."

"I know," Lily replies. "We're alright, James.

James leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head, and she laughs quietly as she pushes
his face gently away. He grins at her. "Wish me luck."

"Luck," is Lily's warm response.

Chapter End Notes

regulus, baby, come back to us. where are you? 😭😭😭

so, this chapter wasn't a very good look for james at certain points. cut him some slack,
he's having a rough time. also, i adore lily evans. her and mary's relationship means a lot
to me (there's more on that later), and it was never just a Device to push the jegulus
agenda. if anything, lily has her own things going on that literally have nothing to do
with james. her anger/hurt with james was very valid, actually, i don't care what anyone
says. could you imagine finding something like that out from a guy you've been
friendzoning for literal years, who you came to trust, who encouraged you to confess
your feelings for the person you love WHILE LYING ABOUT HIS OWN QUEER
RELATIONSHIP??? like, from her POV, she had every right to be upset, and i stand by
that.

as for regulus' friends, we see more on their perspective on things very soon. ill be
honest, the altercation between evan and james hurt me the most. their friendship is so :(
evan was SO disappointed, and james is so sad. heartbreaking. on a lighter note, dorcas
just being like "die" is so iconic of her 😭😭😭 and barty!!! king behavor!!! also, peter,

💀
yet another king!!! remus and sirius squabbling from the stress because james is having
a meltdown and no one knows what to do. HELP I LOVE THEM

sirius black being a true source of comfort, SO TRUE. this poor man was hit with so
much at once and struggling to remain calm. that's difficult, though, if you think about
it. at that point, he was like: okay the only solution to this mess is for them to be
together. and he's right!!! too bad regulus is an evasive little shit. still love him, though. i
missed him this chapter.

EDIT FOR THOSE WHO WANT TO BE REASSURED: everyone, i get the frustration
and sadness, and you're allowed to be upset with characters, that's fine. when it comes to
barty, dorcas, pandora, and evan, they are acting as best friends would in this situation,
in that they know regulus is upset, and james is at fault. moreover, they're upset/hurt
themselves because they actually LIKE him. i assure you, it's handled and addressed
later.
 ACT FOUR: Part Four
Chapter Notes

after the last two chapters, you may not believe me, but there's no warnings for this one.
maybe some mild angst, but otherwise... I can't think of anything.

im posting a little early due to peer pressure (joking) ((edit from beyond the grave: i
probably wasn't joking, this was a cry for help 😔✊)) and also for some reassurances and
resolution to some things that upset people ((edit beyond the grave: oh yeah, definitely a
cry for help lmaooo)), and ALSO because i woke up early and have the free time ((edit
beyond the grave: this was probably a lie, i never get up early))

enjoy! :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"Alright, you're just being ridiculous now."

Regulus glares at Pandora. "I'm not."

"You are, actually," Pandora retorts, raising her eyebrows at him. "Do you not remember how
upset you were a week ago?"

Regulus remembers…

"Oh, darling," Barty says softly, and that sets Regulus off again.

Rather hysterically (and ridiculously), Regulus promptly starts crying once more, turning his
face against Pandora's shoulder to muffle the truly humiliating sight he's become. Evan is
behind him, rubbing his back gently, and Dorcas is perched down beside his hip, holding his
hand. Barty, who is a bit late to Regulus' pity party in Evan's temporary dorm, crawls onto
the bed with them and dumps Regulus' feet into his lap, tenderly stroking the skin above his
ankle.
"They, ah, broke it off," Evan murmurs.

"Yes, I gathered that, Evan," Barty replies.

Pandora, who has been crying right along with him from the moment he collapsed into her
arms, gently runs her fingers through his hair and exhales a little wetly, sniffling. His chest
stutters as his crying eases, and he makes a low, disgusted noise as he reaches up to shakily
scrub at his face. He isn't sure why. He's a fucking mess, and there's no salvaging it now.

"Look up, love," Pandora rasps, and he tilts his face up so she can gingerly swipe his tears
away. Her own eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, which he should feel at least a little bad
about, but he's too emotionally drained to really manage it.

"Have we gotten the full story?" Barty asks.

Dorcas sighs. "No. It's mostly just been crying."

"Well, Reggie, we need the details so we know precisely how painful we need to make his
death," Barty says, gently tapping Regulus' ankle, encouraging him to move.

"Don't kill him," Regulus chokes out, and because he's about as emotionally stable as the
rocking waves of the lake at the moment, he immediately starts crying again.

"Oh, bloody hell," Barty mumbles.

There's a yelp from Barty, then Evan is hissing, "You insensitive prick, shut up. You are not
allowed to talk. No talking for you. You are not helping."

"But—"
"Ah, ah! No. Shut it."

"But I was just—"

"Shut it."

Barty doesn't say anything, but his silence feels offended. Evan keeps rubbing Regulus' back.
Regulus keeps crying.

"Alright, so we won't kill him," Dorcas announces when Regulus pulls himself together
enough to wipe his face again. He actually manages to drag himself from the safety of
Pandora's arms, pushing himself up and folding his legs in front of him, his elbows on his
knees. Dorcas is still holding onto one of his hands. "We'll just...make him wish we would."

"Don't terrorize him," Regulus croaks, hating that his itchy, swollen eyes are still stinging
and filling with tears. What the fuck? This is revolting. "Don't hurt him."

"Speak for yourself, Meadowes. I want him fucking dead," Evan grumbles with a scowl.

"Promise me you won't," Regulus says wearily, because the last thing he needs is friends—
who can be cruel and vicious when they feel the situation calls for it—to have a go at James.

Evan wavers, then huffs. "Fine. Promise."

"It's just—it's so complicated," Regulus rasps. His vision is starting to blur again. "He's my
brother's best friend. And I don't mean the best mate you have in Hogwarts that you only keep
in contact with once or twice every two months after you graduate. I mean the best mate
who'll be his best man at his wedding, and the godfather to his child, and the person he goes
to for every single part of his life. That's Sirius, for James, and—and Sirius is my brother.
That's not even—I mean, I bloody live in James' house, for fuck's sake."
"He will unfortunately be...visible in your life, yes," Dorcas says weakly, grimacing when he
stares at her, stricken. "I know. Bloody hell, Reg, I know it's shit. We can—we'll make him
disappear for you, if you want. We can do that."

"I don't want him to disappear. I would miss him. I miss him already," Regulus confesses, and
lovely, there he goes crying again. His face crumbles, and then he's sobbing once more.
Those awful, horrible chest-rattling sobs. Oh, he hates this.

"Alright, that's enough," Barty declares firmly, lifting up on his knees to hobble up the bed
right across from Regulus.

"Barty," Evan starts, warningly.

"Piss off," Barty snaps, then reaches out to grab Regulus by his face and tilt his head
straight, staring directly into his eyes and leaning in so close that they're nose-to-nose. This
is so startling that Regulus blinks the tears out of his eyes and briefly stops crying. "That's
enough now, Regulus."

"It's not passing. You said it would pass, Barty, but it's not passing," Regulus says, practically
whining, nearly fucking hyperventilating.

Barty exhales sharply and thumbs his tears away. "It will, Reg. I assure you, it will. Fuck
James Potter, yeah?"

"I didn't even get to do that," Regulus responds a little hysterically, his eyes flooding with
tears again, and fucking hell, this is so embarrassing.

"I meant—metaphorically," Barty clarifies with a wince, then he sets his jaw. "And good. You
know what? It's good that you didn't, because he's shit. You deserve to shag someone who
isn't a shit person. What's even so grand about him anyway? He has stupid glasses and he
bounces around like a fucking child and his jokes aren't funny. He's just—he's one person,
Regulus. Just one. There are other blokes. It'll pass, and you'll love the next, too."
"I don't think I will. Not the way I—" Regulus presses his lips together and makes a small,
weak noise. He shakes his head in Barty's palms. "I really don't think I will."

"That's just the way it seems now," Evan offers, rubbing firmer circles into his back. "You'll
get over him, mate. You just have to let yourself."

"Right," Pandora agrees supportively. "And—and really, if you think about it, you only have
to suffer through for a few more months, and then he'll graduate. You'll have an entire year
here without him."

"But an entire summer with him," Regulus groans, then groans louder. "Oh, fucking hell.
Easter. No, no, no. I can't."

"You'll stay here with me on Easter break. Sirius can just be in a strop about it," Barty
declares firmly.

"And you can visit me as much as you like for the summer," Dorcas offers.

"Me too," Pandora adds.

"Not me, sorry to say, for...obvious reasons," Evan mutters with a grimace.

Barty hums. "Or me, yeah, but it's… I mean, you're seventeen. You can go anywhere. You'll
make it, I promise. James is not going to be the ruin of you."

"Why did I do this? I did this. It was so stupid," Regulus whispers, closing his eyes tight
again. "I'm so stupid."
No one says anything, or argues with him on this, because it's true and they all told him not
to do it. They did. Despite that, despite the fact that they'd have every right to, none of them
point this out. As awful as they can be at times—true menaces, the lot of them—they're the
best friends Regulus has ever had, or will ever have. He doesn't know what he'd do without
them.

"I just—I got so caught up," Regulus continues, spilling his guts like he's spilling his sins, like
he's bleeding out before them. "I knew. The whole time, I knew, but I still… I couldn't fucking
help it. He's the sun. What was I going to do?"

"He is not the sun," Barty protests.

Regulus opens his eyes to gaze at him helplessly as he states, quite bluntly, "Yes, he is."

"Alright, fine, so he's the sun," Barty says carelessly, narrowing his eyes as he holds Regulus
by the face more firmly, making him hold his head up. "So James Potter may be the sun, but
you, Regulus Black, are a star that shines brighter. You outshine him; don't you dare think
any different."

"It was never about that with him. He just made me feel so warm," Regulus whispers, not
knowing how else to explain it.

"Oh, Reggie," Evan says softly, and his voice is so tender, so sympathetic, that Regulus can
only cry.

Regulus keeps crying for a while yet.

"Yes, I remember," Regulus grits out. "That doesn't mean I'm going to—to give in.
Absolutely not."

"Now is the strangest time for you to decide you're not going to be pathetic about James
anymore," Barty muses.
Dorcas snorts, then coughs and raises her hands in surrender when Regulus glares at her. "Oh,
don't look at me like that. He has a point, that's all."

"Reg," Evan says, "the bloke literally confessed his love for you. What more do you want
from him?"

It's taken him until now to tell them the full story. He did tell them up to the break up, seeing
as Lily made it clear that she's never going to fancy James, so the pretend relationship was
pointless from there. He hadn't told them about confessing his feelings, in which James
responded in kind, supposedly. He hasn't been able to talk about it, or acknowledge it, and
now he wishes he hadn't at all, because they're taking the piss.

"It's not real," Regulus insists.

Pandora huffs. "Oh, are you telling me he fake confessed his love to you now? Really,
Regulus?"

"You daft bint," Regulus grumbles, and Pandora smirks lightly like she does when she knows
she's right and has proven so. He looks away. "Shut up. Yes, actually. It's not the real thing, in
any case. It's Lily he wanted; not me. He's settling."

"But that's what we're trying to tell you," Evan says with a heavy dose of exasperation in his
tone. "There's no way he didn't want you. He really, really seemed to—"

"Exactly, Evan. Seemed," Regulus snaps. "He may have seemed to want me, but did he
actually? No. He didn't then, and he doesn't now. He just wants to be wanted."

Dorcas frowns at him. "Well, we all want to be wanted, don't we? You certainly want him to
want you, and now he does. I think he has for some time now. Marlene says he's been a
fucking wreck since you two broke it off."
"About Lily," Regulus reminds them, tossing his hands up.

"Yes, we thought so as well, but that was before you said he confessed his love," Evan
declares. "Now, why would you leave an important detail like that out, Reg? Hm? Is it
because you know it literally changes everything?"

"You can't keep blaming Lily for everything James does and doesn't do," Dorcas tells him,
arching an eyebrow. "Have you ever considered that James is mature enough to work for
himself what it is he wants?"

Barty hums. "He does have his mature moments about the things that matter, I've noticed, and
you certainly matter to him. There's no denying that."

"He wouldn't come to you like this if it wasn't true," Pandora adds. "That would only hurt
you, and he's not so oblivious that he wouldn't know that. Throughout all of this, he never did
anything with the intention to hurt you, and you said that, so why would he start now?"

"I don't know, alright?" Regulus grinds out. "Because I'm available? Because I fucked up and
told him I loved him, and I'm an easy option? I can't read his fucking mind."

"That's not the person you fell in love with," Pandora murmurs, her eyebrows furrowing. "If
he was actually like that, you wouldn't have come to fancy him to start with. You wouldn't
have said that before."

Evan clears his throat. "Also, mate, I hate to point this out, but there are a lot of people
available who are easy options. If all he's looking for is to settle after Lily and find someone
who wants him, you're certainly not a last resort. He has his pick of half the castle, honestly."

"Gods," Regulus groans in agitation, reaching up to press the balls of his palms into his eyes
and rub them around, "all of you shut up. None of you are helping. You're all supposed to be
on my side, supporting me, and instead he's fucking corrupted you. He's turned you all,
because of course he has."
"Oh, stop being so dramatic," Barty says with a snort.

"Am I wrong?" Regulus mutters, dropping his hands. "You all like him; you all approve of
him."

"We like him, yes, but we approve of your happiness," Dorcas tells him. "And none of us are
going to sit here and encourage you to get in the way of your own happiness. He makes you
happy, Reg, and you can say what you like, but I would be willing to bet Barty's life that you
made him happy, too."

"Why my life?" Barty asks in offense.

Dorcas shrugs. "Better yours than mine, obviously."

"You know what, Meadowes?"

"No, Crouch, what?"

"You're a twat."

"So are you."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Am not."
"Are—"

Pandora cuts in with a sigh. "Alright, alright, you're both twats." She rolls her eyes when
Barty and Dorcas both rear back in faux affront, hands to their chests. "Fuss at each other
some other time. The important bit now is convincing Regulus to stop being an idiot."

"Oi!" Regulus blurts out, staring at her, injured.

"Mm, she's right," Evan says simply. "I don't know what it is about James that reduces you to
an utter fool, but he does every time. This time, you're not even getting anything out of it. In
fact, you're actively ensuring you get nothing."

Regulus scowls. "Oh, so now that I have some self-respect, it's a problem, is that it?"

"This isn't self-respect; this is self-sabotage," Barty corrects, shrugging lazily. "I'm not
standing for it. I won't be covering for you anymore, Reg. No more bringing you food and
keeping a lookout for James."

"No more running him off for you either," Evan agrees, his lips twitching. "If he's going to
try, we'll bloody well let him."

"And I won't be avoiding him anymore," Dorcas adds, "so if he just so happens to ask about
you, I suppose I might offer some rather helpful information and advice from time-to-time."

"You're all traitors. You're all just—awful friends," Regulus declares in disbelief. "Pandora,
you wouldn't—"

"Oh, I'm certainly not going to stand in his way," Pandora says lightly, smiling and closing
her eyes. "I've a feeling there wouldn't really be a point."
Regulus sputters, drawing himself up to go on a full rant about how they're all shit people,
but they're interrupted by a knock on the door. Dorcas perks up instantly, hopping up from the
bed to move over and snatch it open, humming in approval the moment she lays eyes on her
girlfriend.

Marlene has been coming to the Head Boy's dorm regularly since her and Dorcas started
dating; Lily has graciously given her the password to get into the Head Girl's dorm, so she
and Dorcas can spend time alone. What Regulus has appreciated about Marlene—past the
fact that she makes his best friend happy and is actually startlingly funny—is that she has not
once brought up James around him (most likely Dorcas' request, but she nonetheless respects
it).

"Ah, there she is," Barty announces in delight as Marlene pulls away from the kiss that
Dorcas dragged her into, tucked under Dorcas' arm as she pulls her over to the bed.

"Insane day," Marlene replies with a breathless laugh as she crawls up onto the bed, waiting
for Dorcas to follow before leaning back between her legs, Dorcas' arms around her, tangled
loosely against her stomach. Marlene idly strokes her rings, the one Dorcas gave her clinking
against them. "I got letters of recommendations from Flitwick and McGonagall for a curse-
breaker program post-graduation."

"Fucking hell, McKinnon, that's brilliant," Evan says.

Dorcas leans forward, tilting her head to smile at Marlene, who looks back, biting her lip to
stifle her grin. "That's exactly what you wanted."

"Yeah," Marlene agrees. "Happy for me?"

"No, I'm fussed. I haven't gotten one letter of recommendation yet, and I've somehow decided
this is your fault," Dorcas tells her, eyes sparkling, and then she digs her fingers lightly into
Marlene's stomach to make her yelp out a laugh and curl up against her a bit. "Obviously I'm
bloody happy for you! You earned it, McKinnon, you truly did."
"Oh, that's so lovely," Pandora says with a soft smile, watching Dorcas press a few fierce
kisses against Marlene's cheek, which are flushed with delight, her eyes bright with pride.

"You have been working hard," Regulus adds, because she has. He's gotten a front-row seat
to watching Dorcas' bitterness towards Marlene shift into admiration the more she got to
know her, the more she learned about her, the more she spent time with her. He's heard all
about all of Marlene's academic efforts, and he has to admit, it's certainly something to be
proud of. Helplessly, Regulus is rather happy for her himself; she's become a friend, despite
everything.

Marlene relaxes back against Dorcas and grins at him. "I have, yeah. It's been paying off in
all categories."

"Oh, has it?" Dorcas teases when Marlene winks and points over her shoulder to indicate
Dorcas. "What effort did you put in for me, Marlene, besides infuriating me?"

"Mm, well, whatever works," Marlene says lightly, threading their fingers together. "It clearly
worked."

"Maybe I just thought you were adorable when you were tipping over cauldrons," Dorcas
suggests.

Barty chokes out a laugh. "Oh, don't go changing your mind now, Dorcas. You nursed a
burning derision for all things Marlene McKinnon for three bloody years because of that."

"And because she ignored you," Pandora adds.

"Aw, baby, were you frustrated that I wasn't giving you any attention?" Marlene asks with a
muffled laugh, tilting her head back to grin at Dorcas.

"You can all rot," Dorcas mutters, scrunching her nose, still mildly embarrassed by the fact
that she thought she hated her own girlfriend when she never actually did.
This, of course, gathers laughter all around, and Marlene coos at Dorcas playfully before
reaching up to cup her face and turn it so they snog. This makes Evan and Regulus look at
each other and roll their eyes, because it'll take less than five minutes for them to slip off after
they've started in on the snogging. Barty nudges Pandora with his arm and they have a quick,
playful conversation with nothing but expressions, and then they both gently stretch out their
legs to topple Dorcas and Marlene over, making them break apart and yelp.

"Why are all Slytherins awful?" Marlene complains.

"I'm a Ravenclaw?" Pandora says with a huff.

"I'm your girlfriend?" Dorcas adds.

Marlene rolls her eyes. "Pandora, you're a Slytherin by association, and Dorcas, you're my
exception."

"Oh, well, that's alright, then," Dorcas allows.

"I was almost put in Slytherin, you know," Pandora muses thoughtfully and they all blink at
her. "I don't know if any of you remember, but I was a bit of a hat-stall."

Regulus squints, casting his mind back to first year. "I sort of vaguely remember. Just a few
minutes, wasn't it?"

"Rounding out close to five," Pandora confirms. "The hat couldn't really decide between
Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and I wasn't helping it. Usually, it gets a little input, I think, but I
was distracted."

"During your sorting?" Evan asks, laughing.

"Someone had come up with a little tune on the train, and I couldn't get it out of my head,"
Pandora admits. "In any case, the hat struggled quite a bit with me. In the end, it asked me if
I'd rather hear a riddle or be given a task."

"You said riddle?" Marlene guesses.

Pandora shakes her head. "No, I said a riddle is a task if one is determined to solve them, and
I suppose that response made the decision, because it immediately put me in Ravenclaw."

"There was no doubt about me," Marlene says. "It looked into my head, said hello, then
yelled Gryffindor."

"Same with me, but with Slytherin," Evan agrees.

Barty clicks his tongue. "It didn't even say hello to me."

"Oh, I had a nice little chat with it," Dorcas tells them, her lips curled up. "I wasn't a hat-stall,
really. I just asked it where it kept its brain, to which it told me it didn't have one. I then asked
why it had the authority to place children in their Houses without a brain, and it put me in
Slytherin right after. I rather think it was out of spite, but you know, I don't mind."

"To be fair, that was very Slytherin of you," Marlene offers with a chuckle.

"And you, Reg?" Pandora asks.

Regulus grimaces slightly. "It was very keen to peer at my mind after sorting Sirius the year
previous. All Blacks went to Slytherin before him, you know. I think it was my pride, in the
end, that placed me where I went. I didn't much like being compared to my brother for
something that was supposed to be about me. I...perhaps got a little rude with it."

"Of course you did," Evan says fondly.

"I remember you at eleven," Barty teases. "A small little thing, glaring at Narcissa when she
pinched your cheeks."

"Narcissa Black? Your cousin, right?" Marlene asks.

"Malfoy now," Regulus murmurs, "but yes."

Marlene hums. "Sirius doesn't talk about his family much."

"With good reason, most of the time," Regulus mutters wryly, wrinkling his nose. "They're all
shit. Most of them."

"Yeah, that's usually what Sirius says," Marlene tells him with amusement dancing in her
eyes. "He makes that same face, too. Merlin, that exact face. That's mental."

"Never seen siblings before, McKinnon?" Regulus arches an eyebrow at her, darting his
hands out to catch her ankle when she lightly kicks at him.

"None so similar and so different as you and Sirius," Marlene replies, sticking out her tongue
as she tries to tug her foot free. He pinches the thin skin on her ankle, which rather absurdly
makes her release a giggle, squirming. "Wait, that tickles."

"This?" Regulus asks skeptically, pinching harder.

"Yeah," Marlene confirms, still laughing.

Regulus shakes his head and lets her go. "Gryffindors. You're all so strange."
"Come on, my strange Gryffindor," Dorcas teases, shifting up to slide off the bed and tug on
Marlene's hand. "Let's go somewhere we can celebrate your good news in peace."

"Call it what it is, Meadowes," Barty says.

"Happy shagging!" Pandora adds, in case there were any doubts, and everyone busts out
laughing as Dorcas salutes them with a grin as she drags Marlene off.

"Reggie, you utter fucking—"

"Do not start with me, Sirius."

"What is wrong with you?!" Sirius bursts out, grabbing his arm and whirling him around right
in the middle of the corridor, making a scene because of course he is. People are slowing,
stopping, staring—oh the marvelous display of Sirius and Regulus Black getting into a
legendary row.

Without the help of all his friends, as well as being summoned to Slughorn's office because
showing up late to every class (in an attempt to avoid James) and skipping every meal (in an
attempt to avoid James) and living off the food his friends snuck to the dorm, which he
practically never leaves (in an attempt to avoid James)—well, this is apparently a cause for
concern, so now Regulus has to actually return to the real world. It's fitting that the first
person to see him is his brother.

Regulus snatches his arm from Sirius' grip. "What's wrong with me? You're asking what's—"

"Yes!" Sirius shouts. "How could you be so stupid?! You—"

"Oh, that's rich coming from the family idiot," Regulus snaps.
Sirius' eyes narrow. "Listen, you complete knob, don't you dare complain about the misery in
your life when you've apparently made it your bloody mission to—mmph!"

"Alright!" James interrupts loudly, brightly, his hand slipping around Sirius' head to clamp
down on his mouth. "Well, that's enough of that. I—hi. Hello. Hi. You're back. You're—I
mean, it's good to—I'm glad you're—"

"James," Sirius says, cringing hard enough that he actually pulls back from James' hand. He's
grimacing in a mixture of pain and sympathy. "Merlin, pull yourself together."

Regulus resists the urge to sit down right where he is, put his head between his knees, and
just scream. What did he do to deserve this? Why is this happening to him?

It's an awful thing to have to look the person you love in the eye when you know that you
love them more than they'll ever love you, and what's worse is, Regulus doesn't think James
loves him at all. Not really. Not the way he loves Lily. His stomach lurches just looking at
him. It's not fair how much it hurts, and how beautiful James is in spite of the pain. How can
someone be so lovely that it makes you ache?

Regulus is aching. He's exhausted with this already, helpless to how tired he is down to his
bones. He can't do it. He can't keep looking at James and wanting him with everything he has
in him, missing him all the way down to sinew and marrow, as if he's stitched and sewn and
held together by the warmth of James Potter he so desperately wants to cup in his hands just
one more time. It's ripping him apart, tearing tendons with grotesque pops of flesh that echo
in his head for only him to hear. James looks at him, and Regulus feels like he's about to
shatter and fall to pieces right in front of him.

"Hi," James breathes out. "Sorry. That was—I planned this better. I'm mucking it all up
already. Can I try again? Hello, Regulus, how are you? You look lovely today. I—well, you
look lovely every day, obviously, but—"

Regulus turns and immediately leaves.

"Wait, wait, wait," James blurts out frantically, apparently abandoning Sirius grumbling
under his breath to surge forward after Regulus instead.

"Go away," Regulus says firmly, because he can't do this. He genuinely can't do this. He has
to be angry, he has to be harsh, because the only other option is breaking down.

James does not go away. James falls into step with him. "Just hold on, hear me out, yeah?
You're going to think this is very funny once I've explained."

"Oh, will I?" Regulus mutters.

"Yes, absolutely. You're going to laugh," James informs him, clearing his throat. He has his
arms tucked behind his back like he's determined to be a perfect gentleman. "So, I've had my
little cry about the whole thing."

Regulus hums. "Have you?"

"Indeed. It was dreadful," James says solemnly. "It's why Sirius is so upset, you see, because
I've been crying a lot to him rather pathetically. It's fine, you can laugh."

"Ha," Regulus replies flatly.

James releases a laugh, like he can't help it. "Oh, you're so mean. I've missed you being mean
to me."

"Don't."

"I—well, it's true."

"Piss off, Potter," Regulus tells him, shooting him a glare before picking up his pace.

"Wait, alright, just—just listen," James insists, rushing forward to keep up with him. "Like I
said, I did indeed cry, as you rather broke my heart."

"Oh, I broke your heart?"

"Into a million tiny little pieces, then just scattered them off in the stars, because you're so
very mean like that, but through my consistent, persistent love for you—"

Regulus whips his head toward him. "James."

"Shh, shh, listen," James says, reaching up to put his fingers to his lips. "As I was saying,
through all of that, because there's quite a lot of it, I realized that my planning skills do not
deserve the slander I was putting them through."

"I—no, no, they do," Regulus says, stunned by the audacity of James Potter. He stops and
turns towards him, staring at him in utter disbelief. James stops and gazes back patiently, eyes
bright with—something. "I can assure you, your planning skills deserve absolutely every bit
of slander, and more. Your plans are stupid, James, and they—"

"Stupid they may be, but you can't say they don't work," James cuts in, holding up his hand
when Regulus immediately starts to argue with him. "Literally every part of my plan
worked."

"Oh, did it?" Regulus snaps.

James nods sagely. "Yes. You see, Sirius and Remus are very happily in love as a couple. I
did show Lily that I was a good boyfriend, technically. There's a queer club at Hogwarts, and
more queer couples are free to be themselves as they like. I also did, in fact, spoil you quite
literally every step of the way, and you did actually get to know what it's like to date someone
you wanted to. And, as for me, I just so happened to fake date my way right into falling in
love." His face softens. "With you. I'll admit that none of it went as I expected it to, nor was
most of it my original intentions, but if you'd believe it, I'm really not fussed with the
outcome at all."

Regulus really, really needs James to stop saying that to him. It is very difficult not to just
give in to him. It's a genuine strain on Regulus' very being to resist, because he wants it to be
true, wants it to be real, so badly that it makes him ache.

The problem is, the only thing worse than wanting James when James doesn't really want him
is doing it twice.

"I don't believe you," Regulus says.

"Regulus," James replies very firmly, "I'm saying this, and I'll say it as much as you need me
to, but I am not settling for you. It's not Lily that I want. It's you."

"I don't believe you," Regulus repeats, then turns and starts walking again, his heart thumping
hard in his chest.

"I thought you'd feel that way," James continues, completely undeterred as he, as usual,
chases him. "And that's alright. I get it, you know. I truly do. I have sources, of course, but
you're not going to trust them because they're my friends. It's true, nonetheless, if you'd like
to ask—hm, Remus would be best, most likely. He's known the longest."

"Remus," Regulus repeats suspiciously.

"Yes. But you won't ask, so my next plan is to just convince you. Can you believe I didn't
bloody realize? I'm a bit stupid about you," James tells him with some chagrin, reaching up to
ruffle his hair and flash him a lopsided smile. Oh, stop that. Don't do that. "Merlin, I've
missed you. I'm—I'm also really nervous right now, if you couldn't tell."

Regulus scoffs. "I'm sure."

"I genuinely am," James insists. "And I do miss you. I miss you...all the time, really, but it's
also missing what we had."

"We never had anything," Regulus snaps.

James tsks. "We did."

"It was never real," Regulus hisses quietly, whirling towards him to poke him in the chest.
James glances down, looking delighted by it, then looks up and blinks. Likely because
Regulus is glaring at him with murderous intent. "James, it was never fucking real."

"It was real to me," James murmurs, reaching up to grab his finger, just holding it and
looking at him with that earnest sincerity only he's capable of.

Regulus snatches his hand back, seething. He's frustrated because that's exactly what he
wants to hear, and because he's fucking wavering, so dangerously close to crumbling, and he
doesn't want to. Right now, he doesn't want to. His pride is demanding that he doesn't, a
wounded animal lashing out from a corner, hunkered down and trying to survive.

"If you think I'm going to believe that, you're thick, James," Regulus tells him sharply. "I
don't know if this is guilt, or just the desperate need you have to be wanted, but whatever it is,
I want no part of it. Don't follow me."

With that, he turns and walks away, and James doesn't.

"The thing is," James says the very next day, literally waiting outside the entrance to the
Slytherin common room, "I genuinely didn't realize."
"Don't you fucking dare," Regulus hisses at Barty, who smirks and winks as he goes by
James, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Carry on, James," Barty encourages.

James beams at him. "Cheers, Barty. Good to see you, by the way. Not hexing me as well."

"No hard feelings, I hope?" Barty calls back with a laugh.

"None at all!" James replies cheerfully.

Barty turns as he walks backwards. "Hear that, Reggie? He's gone and forgiven me for
hurting him so easily. Might want to give something like that a try yourself."

"I thought you said it'd pass!" Regulus snarls after him.

"I was lying to make you feel better, darling. It's going nowhere, I'm afraid!" Barty shouts
back, cackling as he takes a corner.

James turns back to him, bemused. "You know, I couldn't have ever predicted that I'd say this,
but maybe you should listen to Barty. He knows what he's on about."

"I have to go to class. Move," Regulus snaps, whipping around James so harshly that his
robes flap. James follows, of course.

"Yes, I know. I've memorized your timetable," James informs him, and Regulus struggles not
to find that absolutely endearing. Oh, fuck James Potter. "That sounds a bit creepy, but
Pandora told me the whole thing when I asked. Your friends are suddenly being so helpful."
"Fucking—" Regulus' nostrils flare. He shakes his head sharply, winding quickly through the
halls, absolutely despising the way people watch them curiously and whisper among
themselves. It's like the beginning of their relationship all over again, but now people are
trying to find out if they're getting back together or not.

"In any case, as I was telling you," James continues, utterly oblivious to the attention they've
attracted, as always, "I didn't realize my feelings for you. That I love you, I mean. Because I
love you. I really do. So much. You have no idea how much, and that's wrong, because you
should know; you should never even doubt it; you shouldn't even have to question it."

"I'm not listening to you," Regulus declares shortly, lying right through his teeth. Oh, he's
listening. He can't stop listening. It's everything he wants to hear.

"Well, sure, but I like talking about it anyway. I'm that sort of person, honestly. I just want to
tell you all the time now. Reg, I'll tell you forever."

"Fat chance."

"Ah, so you're listening to me enough to argue. I can and will work with that," James chirps,
sounding pleased. "Right, so, I didn't realize I loved you until literally right as you were
breaking up with me. Fake breaking up, more accurately, because that's a very important
distinction to me, as I've decided it's simply not reality."

Regulus scowls. "Our breakup was more real than our relationship ever was."

"Can't break up if you're not dating in the first place, lover, so which is it?" James
challenges.

"Don't call me that," Regulus hisses, whirling around on him as his agitation spikes, a sharp
spike of heat skittering up the length of his spine. Before he knows what he's doing, he's
walking James back as he bites out each sentence, glaring right into his eyes. "You don't get
to call me that. I'm not your lover; I was never your lover."
"You're so beautiful," James breathes out.

"Shut up, James," Regulus says sharply, feeling a distant sense of satisfaction rising within
him when James' back hits the wall. He takes a step forward, too close and unable to help
himself when he's this riled up. "Stay away from me. Stop talking to me. Just fucking leave
well enough alone, would you? Because I won't be doing this with you. Ever."

James' pupils are very large, and his gaze flicks over Regulus' face as he whispers, "I really
want to kiss you right now. Can I kiss you?"

"No!" Regulus bursts out. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm in love," James tells him with a lopsided smile.

"Yes, well, you were in love with Lily only last week. Suppose it doesn't take very long for
you to get over these things, does it?" Regulus taunts harshly, whirling around and marching
away again. Lovely, now all he can concentrate on is snogging James. Shit.

"See, that's the thing," James says breathlessly as he catches up to him, "I wasn't in love with
Lily last week. I was in love with you. I've been in love with you for… Merlin, months now.
I've been falling in love with you from the start. I want to tell you all about it. Will you let
me?"

"Absolutely not," Regulus replies shortly. "I've no interest in your stupid games, or plans, or
—whatever you've decided this is. I told you to leave it."

"You told me you loved me," James shoots back.

"Momentary lapse in judgment," Regulus mutters. "I suppose the family curse got to me after
all."
James laughs. It's lovely. Oh, it's always been so lovely, his laugh, especially when Regulus is
the reason for it. "Call it what you like, but it was true. You would have never said it if it
wasn't. You love me. Don't you love me, Regulus?"

"Piss off," Regulus grinds out. I do, I do, I have for so long. Please, I'll never survive it if I let
myself do it for real.

"Do you remember the sonnet?" James asks abruptly. "The one I read out loud to you. My
favorite."

Regulus falters, the memory immediately forming in his mind almost against his will. "Yes.
What of it?"

"I told you there's something moving about unrequited love, that to love without expecting
anything back is the purest form," James reminds him. "You said it was sad. Now, tell me, if
you believed that, why did you spend this entire time loving me in the purest form?"

"I—" Regulus snaps his mouth shut, lips pressing into a thin line. He did do that, didn't he?
He's been loving James this entire time, quietly, never expecting one thing in return. Love in
its purest form, and that's what Regulus feels for James.

James hums. "See, I'll admit that I thought I was talking about Lily, but that's the thing. I
didn't love her in the purest form, because I expected something out of her for years. But
you? I've spent this entire time loving you without even considering that you'd love me back,
and that's what I was scared of, really. I wouldn't let myself face it, because I was terrified.
But I loved you anyway. I did it anyway and never once thought you would feel the same. I'll
go on loving you just as I do now, regardless of whether you'll have me or not."

Regulus slows to a halt, helpless to stop himself from looking over at James, taking him in
slowly in careful bitten-off pieces like he's trying to avoid looking directly at the sun. James
stares back patiently, just waiting.

"What are you going to do when I find someone else to entertain me, James?" Regulus asks,
holding his gaze.
"Like who?" James replies, face tensing.

Regulus cocks his head at him. "Well, shockingly, someone who won't ask me to fake date
him, if you'd believe it. I know you wouldn't know anything about what that's like, so I can
understand your confusion."

James inhales sharply, his jaw clenching so hard that a muscle starts twitching in his cheek,
and oh. Well, that's just… That sure is something, isn't it? His visible anger. Regulus feels his
mouth quite literally flood with saliva, and he swallows as his heart—which has been at a
steady jog since the moment James came within reaching distance—abruptly starts sprinting.

James takes a step towards him, eyes narrowed into slits behind his glasses, and Regulus
takes a reflexive step back. He is actually rather close to the wall, so his following retreat
doesn't get him very far, which probably should be concerning, but if he's honest with
himself, he doesn't particularly want to get away anyway. He's too busy darting his gaze over
James' face, a ridiculous shiver threatening to skitter down his spine from the palpable fury
that rolls off of James in waves he can practically taste. Merlin, he's about to start drooling.

"If you want something so fucking real," James grits out, "then why aren't you dating? I'm
sure you have so many options."

Regulus leans back against the wall, his voice weak as he mumbles, "Oh, you know,
just...considering those options."

"So, you have some other than me?" James asks, gaze sharp and so ridiculously intense that
Regulus feels a little winded.

"And if I did?" Regulus wheezes.

"Hm." James' head tilts, and there should be nothing even remotely attractive about the
motion, but Regulus swears his knees almost buckle anyway. "I'd be curious to know what
exactly you're looking for in your next boyfriend."
"Someone—nice," Regulus manages to say.

James lips press into a thin line. "Nice. Oh, he has to be nice. Of course, you like nice, don't
you? I remember. Does he have to be nicer than me, then?"

"Realer than you," Regulus replies, which is just—well, obviously that's not the brightest
thing to say at the moment. James doesn't like that at all. Oh, he really doesn't like that.

"There isn't anything or anyone more real than me," James informs him, low and sharp. "Not
what I felt for you then, and not what I still feel for you now, and certainly not how I can
make you feel."

Regulus is really struggling to keep his scrambled mind in enough order to properly stay in
this verbal spar, if he's honest, but he catches his second wind enough to look James right in
the eyes and say, "Well, that's presumptuous of you."

"You doubt me?" James arches an eyebrow at him, leaning forward to brace his hand on the
wall beside Regulus' head, crowding closer, and suddenly Regulus is right outside next to the
rose bushes again, losing all sense of himself as James makes him lose his head. "I don't
doubt it for a second. Do you want to know why?"

"Because you're audacious," Regulus rasps.

James smiles. It's not a kind smile, more sharp than Regulus has ever seen it, as well as smug
with a touch of arrogance, and it's not fair how fucking good he looks with it. He tuts gently,
almost mockingly, and he murmurs, "Oh, sure, but that's not it, really. It's just, well, for how
good you are at acting, you're doing a terrible job of hiding how badly you want me,
especially at this moment. Now, why is that, Regulus?"

"Why are you jealous?" Regulus shoots back, thinking this will fluster James even a bit,
which is a bit stupid of him, actually.
"Because I always was," James retorts simply. "Even so far back as that first day I caught you
sneaking about with Evan, I was fucking jealous. Isn't that mental? Because I don't want you
to be with anyone else. Because I want to be the one who has you, the one who gets to touch
you and kiss you and hold you, no one else."

Regulus huffs out a low laugh, feeling shaky, exhilarated like he's in the middle of a
Quidditch match, determined to push faster, harder, and not stop until he's won. He knows it's
a bad idea, and yet he still murmurs, "You don't get to do any of those things anymore."

"Not until you'll let me," James agrees, suddenly calm and collected, looking perfectly
poised, "so I suppose I'll have to be content with knowing that you want me to."

"Who says I do?" Regulus challenges.

"You do." James very pointedly drags his gaze over him, leaning back a little, and Regulus
can feel every inch of where his stare runs over. Regulus' clenched fists, his chest stuttering
with his erratic breathing, the fluttering pulse at his neck, the burning flush in his cheeks, and
the heat in his own gaze when James finally catches it again. James leans in closer and
smiles; it's ridiculously small and lovely and sweet for this moment, almost out of place, but
the mischief glinting in his eyes gives him away. "I hear you, love, loud and clear."

"You—you can't kiss me," Regulus says, even as he thinks, desperately, please fucking kiss
me.

"Mm, alright," James murmurs, pulling back abruptly. He runs his hand through his hair,
grinning. "You let me know when you change your mind about that, Regulus. Take your
time."

With that, James turns and walks away. Struts away, more like, and the satisfaction falls off
of him in waves as he goes. It does take Regulus a moment for his knees to stop feeling so
weak, and he has to close his eyes and breathe for a bit.
He's a little wobbly on the way to class.

Regulus swings around the corner on the way to the Head Boy dorm, only to immediately
and frantically swing right back around, pressing himself up against the wall and staring
ahead in pure disbelief. He can feel a rising sense of betrayal taking root within him, because
he knows he did not just see all of his friends standing outside with fucking James, of all
people. He didn't see that, right? That's not actually happening right now.

Eyes narrowing, Regulus turns slightly and leans his arm against the wall to peer around, and
sure enough, that's James standing right there with Dorcas, Evan, Pandora, and Barty.

"...didn't know," Evan is saying, "so now we feel—"

"Like gits," Pandora fills in.

"Pricks," Barty adds.

"The worst of the worst," Dorcas concludes solemnly.

James is quiet for a beat, then he says, "All true things."

"Oh, James," Evan groans, and Regulus sees him fiddle with his sleeves like he does when
he's nervous. "Obviously we would have never—I mean, we thought you broke his sodding
heart, mate. We didn't know you'd confessed your love."

"If any of you would have just listened," James complains, an edge to his voice, and Regulus
doesn't think he's ever seen his friends look so genuinely remorseful and guilty before.
They're all standing like scolded children, shoulders slumped, shifting around restlessly.
"And you, Dorcas, I'm particularly disappointed in you the most."
Dorcas bites her lip. "Oh, I tried avoiding you, because I knew I'd say something awful out of
anger, and then I still did it, and that's not an excuse. It's not an excuse at all, but before you
saw me that day, I'd taken Regulus some lunch, and he was so upset, and I just—I—oh, I'm
sorry. I really am sorry, James. That was an awful thing to say to you. I'm really very glad
you're not dead, actually. Please don't die. I'm awful, awful, awful. I know. I'm so sorry."

"No—what, no, that's not—I mean, obviously don't go round telling people to die, that's
awful and rude, but that wasn't what I meant," James clarifies. "I meant, out of everyone, I
expected you to at least give me a chance. You're dating one of my friends! Surely Marlene
mentioned—"

"We agreed not to get involved or talk about it," Dorcas cuts in quietly. "The first time we
tried, we fought."

There's a beat of silence, then James says, "Oh. Well...yeah, alright, I get why you two would
leave it alone, then. Er, sorry if—if I caused a strain on—"

"Bloody hell, he's apologizing now," Barty says incredulously. He shakes his head. "Stop. We
feel shit enough as it is."

"Please don't apologize," Pandora agrees, her voice wobbling a little precariously. "We were
all awful to you, and you've never been anything but kind to us, really. I'm sorry. We're
sorry."

"I suppose I understood, really. Regulus was upset. I can't say I'd be much different if it was
any of my mates. I won't lie and say it didn't hurt, though," James says with a weak laugh. "I
really—I don't know. I thought of you as my friends, too. I suppose I was too busy doing that
as well to stop and think much about it, but I really do like all of you."

Barty heaves a sigh. "You are truly infuriatingly wholesome, James, do you know that? I
reckon we were all a little extra upset because—well, because we hoped you wouldn't let us
down with Reg, so we were a bit vicious when we thought you had. If it helps, Regulus asked
us not to."
"He did?" James asks, sounding brighter instantly, and Regulus can see him from the back,
straightening up and standing taller like he's excited.

"Yeah," Evan confirms, amused. "He'd kill us if he knew."

"We...didn't tell him," Barty admits sheepishly. "That we saw you, I mean. Or spoke to you.
Thought it best not to, and it was also a bit of self-preservation, if I'm honest."

"Well, you're all being very accommodating now," James points out cheerfully. "You came
around as soon as you knew the full story, like sensible people would. I can forgive it, and I
won't even bring it up to him until after I've won him over again, that way he's too pleased to
be angry at all of you."

"Oh, would you?" Pandora breathes out. "James, you're a true gem, you are. We'll help you in
any way we can, of course. I'll be honest, I was cheering for you from the beginning."

"Really?" James sounds delighted. "Oh, that's lovely."

"We're glad you're going after him," Evan murmurs. "Don't give up on him no matter what he
says, yeah? You've no idea how happy you make him."

Regulus has heard enough. His disbelief has slowly shifted into agitation, and now he's about
to overflow with something that prickles hot up and down his spine. He eases forward, eyes
narrowed, and the first person to notice him is Barty. Clearly, there's no mistaking that
Regulus has heard all of this, because Barty immediately looks alarmed and starts swatting
frantically at Evan, Pandora, and Dorcas to get their attention. As soon as they're notified,
they're alarmed, too.

Predictably, James is not. As soon as he sees Regulus, he absolutely lights up. "Oh, Regulus,
you're—"
"Not another word," Regulus cuts in sharply, and James blinks, visibly startled. It's obvious
that Regulus' frustration isn't directed to him for once, but his friends. "Do you mean to tell
me, after I specifically told you not to, you all had a go at him?"

"Reg," Dorcas starts soothingly.

"You told him to fucking die?" Regulus snaps, and she winces in immediate regret. "Dorcas
—"

"In our defense," Pandora interrupts, "we were just—"

"You have no defense!" Regulus bursts out. "I fucking told all of you not to do exactly what
you did, and then you kept it from me, and now you're plotting with my boyfriend to keep
keeping it from me just to cover your own—"

"And, by your boyfriend, you mean James?" Evan asks abruptly, cocking his head.

Regulus snaps his mouth shut. He opens it a beat later, then closes it again. Oh. Oh no. Oh,
what the fuck? Did he say that? Did he actually say that? He said that, didn't he? Why would
he say that? Why is this happening to him? Why, of all the slips of tongue to have, did he
have to have that one?

It's just—it hasn't even been a full two weeks. Despite going through the entire heartbreak
process (and still in the middle of it now; gods, when will it end?), Regulus finds that it's a
common thing to slip back into old habits that he should have never gotten the chance to
form in the first place. James was never his boyfriend, but also...James was his boyfriend.
Fake or not, his brain doesn't care. His heart never cared that it was fake. He wishes it did.
He wishes it would now.

"Can't imagine who else you could have meant," Evan continues lightly, "but I just want to be
sure."
Regulus closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then slowly lets it out. When his eyes slip open
again, he flicks his gaze between each of his friends. "Leave. Now."

"Yeah, of course," Pandora agrees with a quiet giggle of triumph as she hooks her arm
through Barty's, her eyes sparkling. "You can rant to us later. Give us a good scolding."

"For now, we'll just leave you with your boyfriend," Dorcas adds, flashing a grin at James,
and then they all scramble away with stifled laughter when Regulus drops his wand into his
hand. They dart into the dorm like a group of fools, stumbling over each other and roaring
with laughter, throwing teasing remarks over their shoulders as they go.

"Idiots," Regulus mutters under his breath, then takes a steadying inhale and glances over at
James.

James, who is biting his bottom lip as if that can hide his grin at all. James, whose eyes are
bright and pretty and focused right on him. James, who says, "Boyfriend?"

"No," Regulus whispers. He means for it to come out strong, but it sounds small and soft
instead. "I didn't—well, obviously I didn't mean to say that."

"Habit?" James asks quietly. "Or instinct?"

Both, Regulus thinks, then looks away as he clenches his jaw and says, "Neither. A mistake."

"Maybe so, but what kind?" James presses. "The sort of mistake that's just revealing
subconscious feelings?"

"I barely have conscious feelings, so I'd think not," Regulus replies dryly, and James ducks
his head with a grin.
"That's not true," James argues in amusement. He steps forward, hovering closer. "You have a
lot of feelings. I've seen them. I've dealt with them." He raises his hand like he's reaching for
Regulus' hair, but Regulus catches his wrist in a quick dart of his hand, holding it in place
with the agile reflexes of a Seeker as James' gaze snaps to his. They stare at each other for a
beat, then James continues, "I've even created them, I'm sure. I know I make you feel
things."

"Presumptuous," Regulus reminds him stiffly.

"Enlightened," James counters, lips twitching. "My eyes have been opened, love, and they're
wide open now. I can see you. I see everything, all that I was too scared and too stupid to look
at before. Loving you is beautiful. I hope you'll forgive me for saying so, but you loving me
is breathtaking."

"I never got to love you," Regulus grits out. "Not really. It's hard to do when it's all fake."

James sways forward, his face softening. "And yet, you still did. You still did, Regulus. You
still do, right now. Do you think I would be this alright if I couldn't see it? That love—oh,
that's all I need. You've given me everything already, and now I'm waiting for you to let me
return the favor. Won't you?"

"Stop," Regulus croaks.

"I miss you," James replies, the words soft and a bit pitiful, and he's just gazing at Regulus
with those big brown eyes behind his glasses, looking so sad, and it's not fair.

"James," Regulus protests weakly, his heart flinching in his chest, because oh, oh how he
misses James, too.

"Won't you have me?" James mumbles, leaning in until Regulus can either drop his wrist and
step back, or slide his hand down James' arm to let him get closer.
Regulus' eyes flutter shut helplessly, and his fingers slip down over his arm, and there. James'
hand brushes the side of his neck before cupping the back of it, leaving Regulus to muffle a
horrible, rising sob in his throat as he melts into James' arms. Oh, he's pathetic. What is he
doing? What is he doing?

"Oh fuck," James whispers, practically whimpering, his arms wrapped around Regulus tight,
clinging, one lifting to push his hand right into Regulus' hair at the back of his head. He
exhales harshly, releasing a laugh that cracks in the middle, and Regulus doesn't hug him
back. If he does, he worries he'll never let go. "Oh, I missed you. I miss you. Merlin, Reg, I—
I really fucking miss you. I know you say I don't, but I do."

"It'll pass," Regulus whispers back, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion, and he's trying.
He's trying so hard. Why is James doing this to him?

It's the worst thing he can imagine coming from telling James his feelings. He can see it,
playing out before his very eyes. James feeling guilty when he never even did anything
wrong, really. James feeling bad for him, poor little Regulus Black, the queer boy so fucking
pathetic for someone who never even wanted him. James—what? Loving him? Really and
truly? He can barely fathom such a thing, and he's scared to try.

"Won't you have me, Regulus?" James asks again, a pleading note in his voice now.

"I need to go," Regulus chokes out, on the verge of tears, and he rips himself right out of
James' arms to rush into the Head Boy dorm, where he does his absolute best not to break
down crying so hard that he's hyperventilating.

And for what? Because he wanted to say yes, and because maybe he knows he should have,
but there's too much pride and fear coursing through him to manage it yet?

Well, isn't that reason enough?

The following day, Regulus nearly comes out of his skin when he looks up from taking his
notes in the back of Divination, though 'taking notes' is a bit of a strong word for it when it
comes to bibliomancy. The reason he has fucking heart palpitations is because James is just
—there.

Just sitting right next to him with his elbow on the table, chin propped in his palm, shoulder
dropped so his back and side is towards the front where Professor Elmir is...meditating, it
looks like, or perhaps taking a small kip. Nonetheless, every student is dutifully working on
their assignment—Regulus, included—because it has to be turned in.

Bibliomancy is just the art of taking random passages from books and making them about
your life, past and present and future. The main thing about it is interpreting its contents in a
contextual way, or adapting its meaning to the present time.

He finds he rather likes it, actually. Bibliomancy sort of speaks to him, as someone who has a
love for books. They've each been given a dial that's specifically charmed to display three
sets of numbers—one for the page number, one for the paragraph on said page, and one for
the sentence (or sentences if more than one number pops up) within that paragraph they're
meant to pick. So, for example, Regulus' dial is currently displaying: 117, 4, 1. On page 117,
on the fourth paragraph, the very first sentence says, "One's mind will only rest when the
acceptance of the misfortunes of the world bears no weight." He's supposed to take this
sentence and write a short description of how it ties intrinsically into his life.

Well, that one's easy.

Regulus' mind is not at rest, and he does not accept the misfortune of James just fucking
being right next to him, because the weight of such a thing is insurmountable. He stares at
James in disbelief and hisses, "What are you doing?"

"I don't have class, I have the free time, so I—"

"You're meant to be revising, James. Do you care about your N.E.W.T.s at all?"

"What? Of course I do. That's not—"

"So, why the fuck are you here instead of—"

"Regulus," James says softly, and underneath the table, he puts his hand on Regulus' thigh.

Regulus snaps up straight immediately, inhaling sharply, and his quill quite literally breaks in
half under his grip when he reflexively tightens it. Mortified, his fingers go slack, and the
quill drops to the table in two rather frail pieces. He stares at it. He looks over and finds
James staring at it.

This is the worst day of Regulus' life.

"That was my last quill," Regulus whispers, resisting the strong urge to crawl under the table
and hide.

James' hand twitches against his thigh, then lifts away. There's a bag down beside his chair
that he digs around in before pulling out a quill that he gingerly lays on the table. He quietly
clears his throat. "You can have that one."

"Thank you," Regulus mumbles.

"What are you, um, working on?" Again, James clears his throat, though it's obvious he's
making the effort to be as casual as he can after—that.

"Bibliomancy," Regulus says, feeling oddly obligated to talk after he snapped a quill simply
because James placed a hand on his fucking thigh. He delicately picks up the replacement
quill and ducks his head, hoping his face isn't actually melting off the way it feels like it is.

"Can I…?" James gestures towards the dial.

Regulus gives a terse nod. "I need the next anyway."

"Hm. Seventy-two, three, and three again," James murmurs, looking up to watch Regulus flip
the pages.

"Oh, you've got to be fucking joking," Regulus says flatly, and James immediately scoots
closer to peer at the sentence he's resting his finger under, of which reads: one cannot outrun
something one carries inside them; time spent on this endeavor is time wasted that could be
used on far more productive things.

"Well, that's very topical, wouldn't you say?"

"Literally what are you even doing here?"

James huffs a weak laugh, ducking his head, and when he looks up again, his eyes are
sparkling. "I told you, I had the free time, and I just wanted to talk to you a bit more. I never
did finish what I was telling you the last time we spoke."

"Unlike you, Potter, some people actually pay attention when they're in class," Regulus
mutters, reaching over to snatch the dial, because he refuses to use that sentence.

"And—and you can," James whispers earnestly. "Really, you don't even have to say anything,
alright? Just, if you would, listen to what I have to say, and maybe...think about it?"

Regulus turns the dial, lifting his head and peering around the class. He meets Evan's eyes
across the room, peeking over a book at them; the amusement in said eyes is undeniable.
Next to him is Pandora, head pillowed on her arms as she sleeps, because she's decided to
practically sleep her entire way through this class, despite the fact that she's likely some sort
of Seer in some other life. Not in this one, though, because she's too uninterested and lazy to
do much about it; Evan usually does the work for her, or just lets her copy, and yet she still
was the only one who got an O on the Divination O.W.L.
It used to be all three of them at one table (Barty dropped the class as soon as he could), but
Regulus started sitting alone at the beginning of the year to spare Evan (and Pandora, even if
she hadn't much cared) the shame of being seen with a queer. That doesn't really have the
same impact these days, but Professor Elmir refuses to let him move, convinced that it would
lead to some sort of natural disaster in the future if he did. And, well, knowing Regulus' life,
maybe that would be true. He's not about to test fate.

He does sort of wish that he had anyway, seeing as now James is here, perfectly hidden in the
back of the secluded corner of the room that Regulus is generally forgotten in. Evan is
fucking laughing at him, the prick, and Regulus narrows his eyes before exhaling sharply
through his nose and focusing back down on his dial. 233, 2, 6 and 7.

"Seriously?" Regulus breathes out once he finds it.

"What is it this time?" James asks, leaning closer.

Regulus stiffens at his proximity, but clenches his jaw and glares down at the sentences. We
all want to be kept; the problem is we are too afraid to let anyone know about it. What are
these fragile things in our hearts that have so much fear of being broken?

Regulus no longer likes bibliomancy. "What the fuck?"

"I'd keep you, you know."

"Shut up, James."

"I'm just saying, Regulus, I think the books are trying to tell you something." James raises his
hands in surrender when Regulus cuts him a sharp look.

"You can bugger off, that's what you can do," Regulus grumbles under his breath.
"Someone's grumpy today."

"I'm grumpy every day."

James chuckles, low and quiet like a secret, and he says, "I know. I love it." There's a little
nudge of James' knee against his under the table, and he automatically jerks his leg away,
only to jolt and nearly snap the second quill when James' hand once again lands on his thigh.
"Be careful with that quill, would you? I don't have another if you break it."

"James," Regulus whispers, his voice hoarse. He's going to snap the quill. He's fucking
strangling it already, not even meaning to, actively trying not to. His hand spasms as he drops
it down to the table before he can cause it any undue harm.

"Shh, it's alright. You can focus on your books and your dial, and I'll just be here talking to
you," James murmurs, shifting until he's leaning his head right next to Regulus', speaking low
and soft right into Regulus' ear. His hand remains on Regulus' leg, thumb gently sliding up
and down along the outer seam of the trousers, his palm drifting back and forth a little bit. It's
a calming gesture, not too high, nothing even inappropriate about it—and yet, Regulus'
mouth is so very dry.

"I don't want to hear it," Regulus says, strained, and his voice is so weak that even he wants
to laugh at himself for thinking he has any credibility. Oh, he looks like a fool.

James doesn't laugh at him, though. James—considerate, kind, lovely James—just squeezes
his leg gently and leans in closer, the very breath of him slipping along the curl of Regulus'
hair, the curve of his ear, the line of his throat. He's so close that Regulus would only have to
shift one inch to feel James' mouth against his neck. It's harder than it has any right to be not
to do it, and James doesn't do it either. He just talks.

"I've given it a lot of thought," James whispers, and Regulus' eyes flutter shut at the intimacy
of it all, at how soft he's speaking, at the way Regulus' entire body prickles and tingles just
from how close he is. "It makes sense that you wouldn't believe me, because it's—it's also a
pride issue for you, isn't it? You've always—well, I can only suspect from what Sirius and I
know of you and have spoken with you about collectively—"
Regulus forces himself to open his eyes, shakily reaching out to grab the quill again. He
breathes. He's breathing. He can't actually see the book in front of him, but he pretends like it
has all his focus, even as he says, "Why are you and Sirius comparing notes about me?"

"Oh, I've been doing a bit of brainstorming with my mates. Sirius has been a big help,
obviously, being your brother and all," James tells him, sounding vaguely amused. Regulus
bets he's smiling. Regulus wants to feel that smile pressed against his skin. "In any case, it
comes down to not wanting to be second to someone else. Makes sense, yeah? You felt
second after Sirius for a long time, probably still do. You felt second after me to Sirius, and
probably still unfortunately feel that way. And now—this. Second after Lily with me, because
I pretty much gave you that impression, didn't I?"

"You certainly never led me to believe anything else," Regulus mutters bitterly before he can
stop himself, then immediately clenches his jaw and hates himself a little for giving in even
just a smidge, revealing more of himself than he likes. There's that helpful anger he's been
waiting on, and he jabs the end of the quill into the inkpot, eyes narrowed as he flattens out
his parchment and begins writing, almost defiantly.

"Never? Not even once? You didn't doubt at least once that my feelings for you weren't
actually faked?" James asks quietly.

"No," Regulus lies.

"So, throughout all of that, you didn't even consider the possibility that I might have been
falling in love with you?" James insists, tapping his fingers to Regulus' inner thigh, a
mindless motion that's sure to drive Regulus to madness.

"I knew better," Regulus says, and that, at least, is the truth.

James makes a noise that's undeniably sad. "See, that makes an unfortunate amount of sense
as well, considering that your self-esteem is pretty shit, which is just...so fucking tragic, love,
you have no idea. I obviously wasn't helping while I was off being too stupid to see what was
literally right in front of me. And I wish—Merlin, Regulus, I wish I could say that I did see it,
but it's true that I didn't. I was just too busy doing it."
"Doing it," Regulus repeats, his fingers flexing around the quill before he gives up and drops
it, going for the dial instead. He needs a new quote anyway.

"Mhm," James confirms. "Even you can't deny that I was having the time of my fucking life
with you. I was just so happy that I didn't even stop to ask myself why, and—and to be
honest, why would I? Just to figure out that I was happy with you, when you didn't actually
want me? You reminded me every chance you got that it was fake; it was always you who
stopped us from doing anything just because people weren't around, even when I was still
trying. Doesn't that tell you something? It was always James, there's no one here; James, we
don't have to pretend; James, don't blur the lines."

"Really, James? What was Valentine's Day, then?" Regulus challenges, glaring at the numbers
on the dial. 436, 1, 3.

"Valen—oh. Well, yes, I did stop you that time, but only because you should get to shag
someone you actually—" James halts, his fingers clamping down on Regulus' thigh, and then
he releases a muffled groan right into Regulus' ear that he needs to stop immediately. Regulus
nearly tears a page out of the book, his body tensing, but James doesn't seem to notice. He's
too busy banging his forehead against Regulus' shoulder, still clinging to his thigh. "Oh. Oh,
you wanted—"

"James—"

"I'm so fucking stupid. I could have—"

"James," Regulus hisses.

James makes a weak noise in the back of his throat, fingers loosening on Regulus' leg, and he
lifts his head to lean in again as he mumbles, repeatedly, "Sorry. Oh, I'm so sorry. Sorry. That
was stupid of me. Sorry. I'm—"

"It was for the best," Regulus cuts in, clipped. He exhales harshly and starts flipping through
the pages again.
"Doesn't bloody feel like it," James grumbles. "You wanted me, and I rejected you."

"Yes, I didn't need the reminder, thank you."

"Regulus—"

"What was it you said?" Regulus challenges, stopping on the proper page. "Lily was all you
ever wanted?"

"I was wrong. I've never been more wrong about anything in my life, and I've been wrong
about so many things, love, I truly have," James says earnestly. "I want you. Regulus, I want
you."

Regulus swallows harshly, staring at the sentence that seems to be mocking him. You think it
can't get worse than wanting someone and not having them, but it can; you can want
someone, have them, and want them more; still and always; you can never get enough. Oh,
that's not fair. Why is this happening to him?

Shuddering out a deep breath, Regulus looks away, turning away, only to make the mistake
of turning into James. Just his head, really. Their cheeks brush, and Regulus hears James'
breath hitch in his ear. For a moment, there is a stillness between them, neither of them
breathing, suspended in this carved out space where their heads are ducked together and
they're sucked into this unspoken whirlpool of sensation. It is not said, but it is felt. Regulus
is drowning in it.

"I want you," James breathes out, like it's a wondrous thing, like it's a marvelous little
discovery he's so very excited about, like it's a secret to whisper in Regulus' ear.

Regulus sways into him helplessly, eyes sinking shut, and there. Yes, that. James' lips against
his throat, the smallest caress of them, and then the pressure alleviates. It's gone, and Regulus
is at war with himself, trying so very hard not to chase it, to demand it, to beg for it if he has
to. He's going to—he will break and give in; he can feel himself chipping away already. What
is fear, what is pride, when James is this close?

Kiss me, kiss me, I'd give anything for you to kiss me right now, Regulus thinks in a daze, and
he turns his head, searching for it. Surely James will give it to him, as close as he is, as often
as he was desperate to snog Regulus. Yet, James inches backwards out of range, inhaling
sharply.

"You said I couldn't," James whispers. "You have to tell me I can, Regulus. I want to hear you
say it."

"Fuck off," Regulus replies, his voice hoarse, stubborn to the last. He's fighting for his life
right now.

James seems to find his response mildly amusing. "If you want it, you'll ask for it. I know
you're all tangled up at the moment, dealing with your pride and pain and likely loads of
other things at the moment. I know exactly how you're feeling."

"Do you?"

"Yes. I—well, I was a bit of a mess, honestly, before you showed back up. I was waiting for
you, but everything was hurting. All of it. I—I was crying a lot, could barely sleep, and I
didn't much care about...anything, really. And I was angry. I was really, really angry. I got
into a brawl with Avery, Wilkes, and that lot. I don't know if Barty told you yet."

Regulus feels his mouth go dry. "I—no, he didn't mention it. Is this when he had a go at you?
Wait, did he—"

"No, no, he actually helped me and Peter handle it," James cuts in quickly, patting Regulus'
thigh soothingly. "I had to go to the hospital wing to heal my hand because it was broken. I,
er, punched Avery in the face very hard."
"Why?" Regulus asks breathlessly, swaying closer, so close that he can feel James' exhale
against his jaw.

"Like I said, I was angry," James mumbles. "I was—I snapped at some girls for talking about
our breakup, and then Avery and Wilkes made some comments about you, and then Peter,
and it—well, it went from there. I was itching for it, though. I wanted to fight and scream and
just—just explode."

"Because of me?" Regulus whispers.

"Nothing makes me want to burn the world like the thought of losing you," James says
softly.

"Kiss me, kiss me, please kiss me," Regulus chants, like the pathetic little hedonist he is, the
words tumbling out of his mouth before he's even given them a second thought.

James' fingers dig into his thigh as leans in close. So fucking close. He's so warm. "Does this
mean you'll have me?"

"You didn't need me to have you to do it before," Regulus points out mindlessly, turning his
head, chasing James' mouth as it evades him. "You didn't need it to be real, remember?"

"Yes, I did. It just was real, so I didn't have anything to worry about," James tells him. "It was
real from our very first kiss."

"Wasn't."

"Was."

"Fuck, James, just— please," Regulus breathes out, rocking forward so far that he might tip
right out of his chair. He's here now, too far gone to be doing anything else, and he wants it.
 Just for this moment, he wants it bad enough he'll beg for it. He feels like he's going insane,
like James is driving him closer and closer to madness.

James' hand not on his thigh lifts to cup his cheek, and then he's soothing him, sounding
breathless as he says, "Alright, yeah, of course. Anything. Merlin, anything you want,
Regulus. You can have it all. Come here. Fucking hell, just—"

"Alright!" Professor Elmir calls loudly, making Regulus and James both jump and pull away
from each other, the both of them suddenly and rather rudely reminded that they are in a
classroom with multiple other people around them, because other people exist besides just
one another. "Class is over! Hand in your assignments on your way out the door."

Regulus opens his mouth, exhaling heavily as he blinks rapidly, and James' fingers flex on his
thigh before he pulls his hand away. Regulus can't quite lift his gaze from the table where one
of his hands grips the edge of it so tight that it aches when he forces himself to peel his
fingers free. All around them, students are gathering their things, and Regulus shakily begins
to do the same.

James is already looking at him when Regulus steals a glance, and his gaze is soft, bottom lip
caught between his teeth as he rubs at the back of his neck with his hand. Regulus hastily rips
his eyes away and carelessly shoves his things into his bag, which he has never done before.
He even takes the snapped quill but leaves the one James let him borrow, snatching up his
half-finished assignment as he launches to his feet.

Regulus doesn't wait. He practically bolts to the front of the class to smack his parchment
down on the desk, and Elmir looks up with a smile. "Ah, Mr. Black, I rather thought
bibliomancy would suit you well. How do you like it?"

"It's stupid," Regulus snarls, then turns and marches out.

Chapter End Notes

annnnd the miscommunication trope is finally finished and completed. james has some
things to say
dorlene my beloveds <3

regulus' friends my beloveds <3 them apologizing to james was NECESSARY, as im

sure many of you agree, but in their defense, they were operating under the constraints
that their best friend was a complete mess. and also, it was very fresh as well. like, it
hasn't been a full two weeks. they did need to apologize and MEAN IT, though, and i
stand by that.

regulus coming out of hiding 😭😭😭 HELP. he was a little hermit, and i can't even
blame him. he's not stupid. he knew james would come chase after him again, even
subconsciously, and he was NOT ready to deal with that. sounds rough, buddy. too bad,
though, because james is ON IT now, popping up like a bad habit everywhere. good for
him 😌

i think it's funny that everyone's frustration with james is now going to shift to regulus,
because he's being a little resistant. id like to remind everyone that he is Very Weak for
james, so it's not gonna last long. also, it's a pride and fear issue, which i feel is fair,
considering what he's dealt with so far.

and then there's james. he's so fucking adorable, i love him. he's so pleased right now, if
you couldn't tell, because he KNOWS that regulus loves and wants him, despite his
resistance. so he's just like: i will fight all of his doubts and insecurities with my bare
hands and enjoy myself while doing so.

the fact that regulus thinks he stands a chance 😭😭😭 sweetie, no. there's no hope for

you're doing GREAT. mr. kiss me, kiss me, please kiss me 🤨😐😭
you, pal. but you have your little strop and put up your little fight, i guess. sure, reg,
he is so... help him.
 ACT FIVE: Part One
Chapter Notes

warnings for this chapter: a very brief reference to child abuse (Walburga and Orion's
A+ parenting), but it's very 'blink and you miss it'. very, very mild angst. nothing
explicit, just some heat. oh, and lots of fluff

you're gonna like this one <3

enjoy 🥰
See the end of the chapter for more notes

The last person Regulus would have expected to find watching him from the stands on the
pitch is Remus Lupin. For one, he has been subjected to James bemoaning that one of his
best mates finds Quidditch to be stupid (an hour; he complained about this for a solid hour).
For two, well, Regulus and Remus aren't exactly friends, really.

Regulus' feelings for Remus are rather bland, honestly. They never actually interacted before
Regulus reconciled with Sirius, and even after, his presence was muted. They didn't carry on
one conversation before Regulus started dating James—fake dating, he reminds himself.
And, with that, he mostly filtered Remus in his head as Sirius' boyfriend, even before he was
actually Sirius' boyfriend.

This means that Regulus has come to decide that one, Remus obviously has questionable
taste if Sirius does it for him, and two, if he ever changes his tastes, Regulus will have to kill
him. A bit of a conundrum, that, but he manages well enough.

Technically, Regulus doesn't have to go see what he wants. He could likely make it back to
the castle before Remus ever makes it down from the stands, if he tries hard enough. It would
probably be smarter, honestly, but Remus is here for one of two reasons—Sirius or James.
Regulus is unfortunately invested in both, so he heaves a sigh and flies over.

"You're good," Remus offers when Regulus sits down next to him, propping his broom
against the bench beside him.
"I know," Regulus says. "What do you want?"

Remus snorts. "Right to it, then."

"I'm not Sirius. I won't dally around the point."

"Mm, suppose not, but you run just like he does. You both run like you're trying to outrun
yourselves."

"Oh, so this is about Sirius, then? Trouble in paradise? If you two are having problems, I'm
afraid you've come to the wrong place looking for—what, exactly?" Regulus mutters.

"It's not about Sirius; I just have a compulsory need to point out uncomfortable truths. Misery
loves company, and I have enough of my own uncomfortable truths to contend with, so other
people's blissful ignorance makes me bitter," Remus tells him wryly, and Regulus' lips twitch.
"Sirius and I are—well, we're always having problems."

"Well, that sounds unhealthy," Regulus muses.

"It's not, really. We're always working through them. I've come to appreciate the consistency."
Remus pauses, then looks over at him and purses his lips. "That makes it sound like I'm not
happy with him, which might not be the best thing to insinuate to his brother. I am, you know.
Very happy. What I mean to say is, we're a little bit of everything all at once, and I never had
everything before I had him. I reckon we'll always be like this, but that's what I'm hoping
for."

Regulus shrugs. "I don't care."

"You must, even a bit."

"No. Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you, because you'd tell him, and I won't be giving him the
satisfaction."

"It's a bit mental the way you two love each other," Remus says, shaking his head before he
looks away.

"We're Blacks," Regulus reminds him, and Remus inclines his head like that explains
everything. It likely does. In any case, Regulus doesn't care, really, so long as Sirius is
carrying on in his little happy relationship, so long as Remus doesn't give him a reason to
care, such as hurting Sirius in some way.

Remus is quiet for a very long time, and then he says, "You have trust issues."

"No, I trust everyone all the time," Regulus replies.

"That'd be an issue as well, if it was true." Remus folds his hands together in his lap and tilts
his head up to look at the sky, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I do, too. Have trust issues, I
mean."

"You should probably work on that."

"You first."

Regulus chuckles, then stops when he realizes he's doing it. He frowns. "Are you here to
bond over our mutual inability to trust easily, or...do you have a point to make?"

"Sirius and James are made up of the same exact magic, you know," Remus announces
quietly, and when Regulus looks over at him, his lips are curled up. "Whatever magic exists
in us, theirs was formed together and split between them. You can't really love one without
loving the other."
"I think the universe made a mistake when it didn't make them brothers," Regulus murmurs,
voicing the thought he's always feared lived in Sirius' head.

Remus hums thoughtfully. "I don't think so. You needed Sirius to be yours, and whether
you'll believe me or not, he needed you to be his. James and Sirius are something else;
something entirely of their own. Everyone else can either hate it, or love it, but there's no
choice but to accept it."

"Oh, I'm well aware. And you? Hate or love?"

"Depends on how annoyed I am with either of them at any given time, honestly."

"Yeah, I get that," Regulus says.

"Sirius…" Remus pauses, then grimaces slightly. "There was a time during fifth year, and a
bit of sixth, where I hated Sirius. I'd always loved him, I think, even before I ever knew him.
It was always him for me, and was always going to be; just one of those facts of life, like the
sun will go down and the moon will inevitably be whole again, and Remus Lupin loves Sirius
Black. I didn't know that I could hate him too, until I did."

"Annoying, isn't it?"

"For me? Devastating, rather, but I don't love him as you do."

Regulus looks over and scans the side of his face. "What did he do? I know what it takes to
hate Sirius, how badly he has to hurt you for it to be real."

"Do you?"

"I couldn't hate him until he left."

"He had every right," Remus says quietly.

"I know," Regulus replies. Doesn't mean it didn't hurt, he won't say. No one knows that, and
no one needs to.

Remus heaves a weary sigh. "In my case, he was thoughtless and hurt me in a way I never
imagined that he could. Deep down, I was always prepared for him to break my heart; I was
waiting for that, really. What I didn't see coming was him breaking my trust. I didn't know
that could hurt worse."

"He betrayed you, then?" Regulus asks.

"Yes," Remus answers simply.

"Well, obviously you got over it," Regulus mutters, despite the fact that he's very aware
things aren't as simple as that. They never are. Yet, some childish part of him...doesn't like
this. He doesn't like knowing this about Sirius, doesn't want to hear that Sirius has done
something wrong—genuinely wrong, and not just running away for his own safety—because,
despite everything, Sirius is his older brother and Regulus loves him.

"No, not quite," Remus says mildly. He gives Regulus a rather wry look. "I have trust issues,
you see."

Regulus snorts. "Right. Those."

"I forgave him, or close to it. I don't know if I would have if I didn't love him, and at the same
time, I think it was harder because I did," Remus murmurs. "I feel fortunate to make it as far
as I have, though, which is a bit of an anomaly. I'm not generally optimistic, but I suppose
being young and in love does have its effects. Whatever it is, I'm thankful to have made it
here, despite it all, because it is a fortunate thing. Some people don't get to heal. They don't
quite make it that far."
"No, they don't," Regulus agrees, because he knows that.

"You could," Remus says bluntly.

"What?" Regulus frowns.

Remus turns and looks at him. "You could make it that far. My point—the whole point is,
James and Sirius are made of the same, and sometimes they can be thoughtless in very
different ways, and sometimes that hurts the people who love them."

"Don't," Regulus whispers, looking away.

"Every instinct told you not to trust, but love beat it into submission anyway. That's why
heartbreak feels like betrayal, too," Remus says softly.

"James didn't do this to me."

"Not on purpose. Believe it or not, Sirius didn't do what he did to hurt me either, but that
doesn't change that it hurts."

Regulus squeezes his eyes shut. "Whatever you may think, this isn't the same."

"Oh, I certainly don't think that. These two things aren't even properly comparable," Remus
informs him, and Regulus' eyes pop open to stare at him incredulously. "What?"

"Then what are you doing here?" Regulus snaps.

Remus' face softens. "If you expect me to sit here and tell you that you're stupid for what
you're feeling, then you have it all wrong. I'm not going to tell you all the ways in which
James actually loves you, and has loved you for some time now, because that's not what this
is about. You spent months suffering in silence, and now everything is different. Hanging
onto the hurt and not being willing to trust, that's natural; that's human, Regulus. I'm only
here to tell you that, no matter how hard it is to believe, trying again isn't just setting yourself
up for more of all that you're running from already."

"You can't know that," Regulus rasps, a lump forming in his throat, his heart flinching in his
chest.

"No, I can't," Remus admits calmly, "but neither can you, if you don't try."

Regulus looks away again, blinking hard, and he's so fucking infuriated that he's being made
to feel like this, to face this, when he doesn't want to. "You're biased."

"Because James is my best friend?"

"Yes."

"Maybe," Remus allows, "but I'm actually here for you. Not him."

"Is that so?" Regulus asks stiffly, glancing over at him with his lips pressed into a thin line.
"And why is that, exactly?"

"Oh, you know." Remus shrugs and looks back up at the sky, lips twitching. "Well, I just
thought I'd offer a bit of nice advice as you come to terms with the fact that you don't really
stand a chance at all. No shame in it."

"Really? I rather think I do stand a chance, actually."

"You'd like to think so, but you love Sirius, and it's like I said. Sirius and James are made of
the same, and you can't really love one without loving the other."

Peter Pettigrew. Now, this one… If he's honest, Regulus hasn't really given much thought to
this one. Remus is Sirius' boyfriend, and James is the one Regulus is in love with, and Sirius
is Regulus' brother. Regulus has no connections to Peter outside of the fact that he's yet
another best friend in all that. They've talked a few times, not very much, and played a rather
intense game of chess, which had ended with Regulus winning.

So, when Peter abruptly plops down in the chair next to him at the library, Regulus only
stares at him. Peter stares back. It's very quiet between them, and neither boy blinks.

"What?" Regulus asks, finally, mildly irritated that he's the one to break the silence.

"James didn't send me." Peter pauses, then adds, "Or Sirius."

Regulus arches an eyebrow. "I actually find myself believing that, because sending you
would be rather pointless."

"I know. I'm so unassuming and pointless and have no impact whatsoever," Peter says with a
loud, dramatic sigh. Then he props his elbows on the table and smiles at Regulus. "I've seen
him naked, you know. James, I mean."

"I—" Regulus gives a startled blink, rearing back a little, not at all expecting that. His brain
has hit a brick wall. "What?"

"James. Naked," Peter recaps innocently. "I've seen it. A few times, in fact. Now, obviously
he's a menace to society walking around being as fit as he is, but let me tell you, you have not
experienced the true delights of life if you haven't seen James naked at least once. I must
inform you, regretfully and with full reliability, that you have not lived yet without seeing it."
"I—what?" Regulus repeats, his brain rolling down a hill somewhere while he desperately
chases after it.

Peter twitches his nose, eyes sparkling. "James. Naked. You haven't lived because you
haven't seen it. Still with me?"

"Yes," Regulus rasps.

"He has a birthmark on his inner thigh—the left one, I think. Of course I knew that before I
ever saw him naked because he showed us all; he swears it's in the shape of a heart, but if I'm
to be completely honest, it looks a bit like a wonky chicken. No one has the heart to tell him,"
Peter says, tapping his fingers idly to his cheek. "I'd say it's a good spot to place a mouth.
Perfect size, if you care for that sort of thing."

"Mouth," Regulus repeats, staring at him without even really seeing him at all. His brain is
gone. "Size?"

"Well, it's not big," Peter tells him, waving his hand casually, as if to say you know what I
mean.

By Merlin, Regulus does not know what he means, and it's fucking killing him. "His—the—
do you mean the—the birthmark isn't big?"

"Well, what else would I be talking about?" Peter tilts his head, raising his eyebrows.

"That's—I don't—" Regulus gives up.

Peter looks amused. "Oh, do you mean his cock?"

Regulus makes a noise that's not really human-like in quality. It's more like a wounded
animal wheezing in a curled up ball as it goes off into a corner and dies. His brain is just one
loud sound of wailing. Somewhere, in the distance, someone is weeping. Regulus thinks it
might be him.

"No, that's bigger than his birthmark," Peter informs him, and a million questions fly through
Regulus' mind immediately, but he is fortunately not stable enough to voice any of them. This
is probably for the best, as not one of them was even remotely appropriate. "Although, I
reckon that's a good spot to place a mouth, too, if you care for that sort of thing."

Regulus cares for that sort of thing. Very much. He can't even begin to express how much.

"Well," Peter says cheerfully, tapping his hand to the table as he pushes to his feet, "nice
talking to you, mate. I'll leave you to your thoughts."

With that, Peter swings around the table to pat him on his shoulder, then sweeps off,
whistling lightly as he goes. Regulus is left alone with his thoughts, which inevitably leads
him to go take a very long, very much-needed shower.

He learns two things that day. One, he's literally going to go mental if he never gets to see
James' birthmark, and two…

Peter Pettigrew is not to be underestimated.

Sirius doesn't count, because the very first thing he says to Regulus is, "Oh, I could just
punch you."

"Don't be a coward," Regulus retorts. "Do it and see what happens."

Sirius immediately punches him in the arm, and Regulus has him by the ear right after,
twisting it sharply and making him yelp as he drags his head to the side. Things inevitably
end up escalating until they're both just scuffling in the middle of a deserted corridor, only
coming to a truce when Regulus has Sirius by his hair and Sirius is bending Regulus' fingers
back on his other hand. It takes a few minutes for them to actually let go, because first they
have to play the eight rounds of let go; you let go; I'll let go when you do; fine, we'll both let
go; you didn't let go; neither did you; well, now I'm just disappointed in both of us. They do
eventually let go (at the same time) and that's that.

"You've made my best friend sad," Sirius informs him when they're walking calmly a few
minutes later.

"Oh, what a crime that is," Regulus retorts, his lip curling, and he feels his frustration with
how unfair all of this is rising in a wave of heat under his skin. Because it isn't fair. And it
doesn't matter that he loves James; everything hurts, and Regulus is suddenly eleven again, so
blatantly replaced by his brother. "Oh the shame of upsetting your precious James Potter.
Gods, there's just no coming back from that, is there? It's all about James, and what he feels,
and what he wants, isn't it, Sirius?"

"Don't you fucking start," Sirius snaps. "It's about you, too. You told him—" He halts,
looking around discreetly, then lowers his voice to a low hiss. "You told him you sodding
love him, Regulus. Am I meant to pretend you didn't? Am I meant to act like you're not being
a fucking idiot by not—"

"I know, alright?" Regulus cuts in, whirling towards him as his nostrils flare. "Don't you think
I know? I'm very fucking aware of my feelings for him, Sirius. That's the problem."

"I don't understand."

"You wouldn't."

"Then make me understand," Sirius grits out.

"I just—" Regulus works his jaw, his face scrunching, and then he huffs in frustration. "I can't
do it, alright? I can't take the fucking risk, because if I'm wrong, if he doesn't—" He cuts
himself off, swallowing. "I just can't."

"Well, I just thought it was your pride," Sirius mutters with a small frown.

"That too," Regulus admits.

"You're scared," Sirius says, holding his gaze.

"Weren't you?" Regulus murmurs.

Sirius squints at him, then blows out a deep breath. "Look, you sort of—I suppose you got
through to me when I was losing it about Remus, which I honestly would have never been
able to predict if you'd given me a million chances to do so. But it was you who told me logic
says it makes more sense for you to make the effort and see what comes of it, rather than do
nothing. If you try, it could work out very well; if you don't, it's guaranteed that things will
be hard for both of you. That's what you said, and do you know what? As much as it pains me
to admit it, you were right." He pauses. "Oh, and you also said not to be an idiot. So, don't be
an idiot, Reggie."

Regulus scowls at him. "Don't quote me to me. That's not fair. I'm the only person who
actually makes any sense."

"You're making very little sense at the moment," Sirius tells him. "I mean, Merlin, it's James.
It's James, you idiot."

"Yes, I know, you love him more than life itself—"

"No, I—well, yeah, alright, so I do, but that wasn't what I meant. My point was, it's James.
The fool does everything with his whole heart, have you noticed? Why wouldn't he do this,
all of it, with you the exact same? If he says he wants you, he does. He's so sincere. How can
you doubt him?"

"I—" Regulus opens and closes his mouth, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't form
words to respond to that. The thing is, how many times has he acknowledged that James is
one of the most sincere people he's ever known? How many times has he thought that James
does everything, especially the things that matter to him, with his entire heart? Why not this,
too? Why not? Why not, why not, why not? Regulus thinks on repeat, his heart racing in his
chest.

Sirius' lips curl up smugly. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

The next (and last, preferably) is Lily, and this… Well, Regulus dreads it from the moment
she comes to him. He wonders what it is that James saw in her exactly that made him fall in
love with her. She is beautiful, Regulus can recognize that, no matter his preferences. Her
eyes are as green as the envy in his chest when he looks at her; she has curves that hands can
get lost in; her hair is a passionate red, like a label warning to the passion that exists within
her. He knows her mind is sharp and fierce, and he knows she is kind; he has spoken to her,
and watched her, so he can't deny it.

And yet, it is so hard to look at her. It is so fucking hard to be near her without feeling like he
wants to crack her open and steal whatever she has that caught James' eye, his interest, even
his heart. They were eleven, and she was James' choice. Regulus hates her for it, and it's not
even her fault.

He's tucked away in the alcove by the courtyard again, mostly hidden and very sure that he
won't be found so easily. It feels nice out, and he's enjoying getting to watch the other
students without them noticing him.

Lily must be observant too, because—unlike most—she notices him. He doesn't know she's
there until she's lifting herself up to sit on the edge of the ledge he's sprawled on, smoothing
her skirt down once she's settled. He automatically shifts his feet so they won't bump into her,
and then he makes a point to pretend she's not even there. It's a little childish, but not from a
place of jealousy or anger; he's simply ignoring the problem as if that will make it—her—go
away.

She could have had him, is the thing. She could have had James with one word, with one
crook of her finger, and he would have been in the palm of her hand without a second thought
to anyone else. There's a horrible, persistent fear in the back of Regulus' mind that this is still
true, and the only reason it won't happen is because she doesn't want it to. That sort of control
she has, and the impact it has on Regulus, makes it hard not to hate her.

He doesn't want to, though. The sad part is, he thinks he'd actually enjoy talking to her and
being near her if James wasn't a part of this whole thing. He thinks that he'd rather like to
spitefully be her friend, even, for multiple reasons—to prove that he's mature enough to
manage it; to metaphorically give his parents, and family, and family motto the finger as he
gets on with a muggle-born; to simply be her friend because she's smart, and can get into the
restricted section, and he rather likes the way her mind works. But it's not so simple as that,
and that's somehow just another disappointing layer to add to all the rest he's struggling with
when it comes to her.

"Can I ask you something?" Lily says.

Regulus sighs. "I can't stop you. I'd rather you didn't, though."

"It's likely not what you think." Lily is picking at the seam on her skirt when Regulus looks at
her. There's a wrinkle between her eyebrows. "Is—how is Severus doing?"

"Snape?" Regulus mutters, admittedly started, because she was right. That's not what he'd
thought the question would be.

Lily flicks her gaze up, something hesitant in it. "It's just… You're in his House, so I thought
—I thought maybe you'd know a bit more than what...everyone else knows."

"Not really," Regulus admits.

"Oh." Lily looks down, clearing her throat. "Well, I used to know more than what everyone
else knew. Sometimes it's still startling that I don't anymore, which is silly, I suppose.
Because, well, everything I learn generally infuriates me, and I'm so tired of wondering. I just
—keep waiting for something to be different, but nothing ever is. I don't understand how
someone can be so inflexible, so set it their ways."

"It took my own fall from grace to realize that it's all utter shit," Regulus informs her bluntly,
and she blinks. "All that I was taught by my family, I mean, and that covers a lot of different
topics. You know what else I was taught? A big one was don't be a fucking queer." He holds
his hands up, and she huffs out a startled laugh. "So, as you can see, none of it quite got
through to me as they hoped it would."

"It's not… I mean, some people would still believe it anyway," Lily tells him, tilting her head
a little.

"Would they? That's stupid." Regulus frowns. "Besides, Effie gave me loads of books about
things I never even read, a lot to do with Squibs and magical lineage and how muggle-borns
practically single-handedly save our entire race from going extinct. It's all rather obvious if
you think about it, because pure in my family is practically synonymous with incest.
Andromeda would have had to marry and shag a relative if she did what the family wanted
for her. At what point is it just fucking ridiculous, really? And then—well, alright, stop me if
I'm off the bend with this, but I—I had the thought once that it's all magic, do you know what
I mean? Everyone is magic, everything is magic, even if we don't understand it yet. Magic is
beyond reason, and so is life sometimes, I've noticed. It's all just—I mean, if you look, really
look, magic is everywhere."

"No, I—I know what you mean," Lily murmurs. "You're not wrong about that. If you know
where to look, you can find magic anywhere, even in the Muggle world."

"I believe that," Regulus says.

"I don't think—I mean, it's different for Severus," Lily muses, her lips tipping down. "He's
not… It's not the magic in him that he's ignorant to, but rather the magic of those he's scorned
or deemed unworthy, and that's not…" She shrugs awkwardly, looking uncomfortable. "He's
just a very unforgiving person, and I spent years forgiving him for things that I shouldn't have
had to before I stopped."
"I'm—sorry," Regulus offers stiltedly, resisting the urge to cringe as soon as the words fall
out of his mouth, clunky and inadequate.

Lily turns to the side and draws her legs up underneath her, curled away as she settles back
against the alcove wall across from him. She sighs. "It's strange, you know. I don't miss him.
I—well, I suppose I do, in that I grew up with him, so a lot of my nostalgia includes him at
times, but… Well, he made me feel awful and guilty for things that—that I didn't deserve. I
don't miss that, the way he made me feel, or being forced to repeatedly defend him."

"I imagine that's how Sirius felt about me, before," Regulus says, and Lily looks thoughtful.
"Well, he never really defended me. Too...confrontational for all of that, I suppose."

"I can be confrontational." Lily arches an eyebrow at him, and he just hums. She rolls her
eyes. "Yeah, alright, I get that Sirius is a bit different. I don't know, I think I just feel—it's just
so frustrating that I could have done all of that, dealt with all of that, and he's still… So, even
if I wouldn't ever give him the time of day, ever again, I think there's a part of me that's still
waiting for something to change, like proof that I wasn't just some idiot girl wasting her time.
But that's what I was, and Christ, you have no idea how much I despise that."

Regulus purses his lips. "I mean, you were...a child, in your defense. Quite literally just a
child. I don't think that makes you an idiot. Perhaps just a little naive until you couldn't be
anymore, and that happens to all of us, doesn't it?"

"Yes, well, I'd like to be above such things—at any age. I don't like being wrong," Lily
grumbles, and Regulus snorts because he knows all about that. She grins at him. "I get the
feeling you don't much like it either."

"No, I don't," Regulus confesses.

Lily hums. "I was wrong about James, you know."

Regulus instantly falls silent, feeling oddly out of sorts as it hits him at full force who exactly
he's talking to, and how she's tied to James. He'd forgotten. For one blissful moment, he'd
actually forgotten enough to just be...open with her, a bit. He remembers now, and he's
suddenly closing right back up.

"I've thought a lot of awful things about James," Lily continues as Regulus clenches his jaw
and looks away. "Some of them had a little bit of truth to them; most of them...didn't. One of
the things I thought was that I would never consider him a friend, or want him to be one, and
I was wrong. All these years later, and he's one of the best friends I'll ever have." She huffs
out a breathless laugh, tilting her head as she widens her eyes a little bit. "Trust me, I didn't
see that coming."

It's such a strange thing, Regulus can't help but think. The way no one really sees James
coming, even though he's someone impossible to miss. He's easily one of the most
appreciated things in this world, while also entirely taken for granted, and isn't that the sun?
A glowing blaze of fire in the sky that the world would fall apart without, and yet no one ever
looks to the burnt orange of a bleeding horizon and thinks to be sad when day slips away into
night. James is James, and the sun always comes back up.

But he's more than that. It's more than that. It goes beyond a boy with stupid jokes, and a
lopsided grin, and the ability to brighten whatever room he walks into. What about when the
sun sets? What about the boy who gets scared sometimes, and has bad days, and is tired of
trying? What about the boy whose mind never quits, whose chocolate frog in his head jumps
around hard enough to hurt at times, whose insecurities apply so much pressure to him that
he can't even understand because he doesn't know he's insecure at all? What about the boy
who tries to be happy, doesn't even know he's allowed to be sad, and does everything—
absolutely all of it—with his entire heart? There's so much to him, and Regulus saw it, he
found it, and it feels like his to love; even the saddest parts; it's his to cradle close and
protect.

Regulus never thought a day would come where he'd be among those that take James for
granted, and those that wait for the sun to rise again without taking care to acknowledge
when it sets. He may have never seen James coming, but he was so very happy that he did.
What is he doing? Oh, what is he doing?

"I think a lot of people are wrong about James," Lily murmurs, giving him a tiny smile. "I
think that says a lot about him, don't you?"
"I think it says more about everyone else," Regulus rasps.

"We may not like it, Regulus," Lily says gently, "but it's alright to be wrong sometimes. If
we're very lucky, being wrong can change our lives for the better."

"And if we're not lucky?" Regulus whispers.

Lily's lips curl up further, green eyes bright with something that makes Regulus' heart skip a
beat as she says, without an ounce of doubt in her tone, "Trust me, you are."

Once, some time ago on a date that wasn't real, Regulus told James that he would like to live
a mundane life, and James had promised to keep his life exciting. One of the things that
Regulus has always loved about James is that he keeps his promises, and this is one he
doesn't break.

It's the spontaneity of him, honestly. The way Regulus' day can be normal and boring, almost
mindless, and then James comes out of nowhere to do something like this. Like slipping an
arm around his waist as soon as he takes a corner, completely and utterly oblivious to the fact
that James is on the other side of it, not at all prepared for James to draw him close and whirl
him on the spot to quickly and without warning pull him into what appears to be an
abandoned cupboard of some sort.

Regulus' heart is racing before the door ever clicks shut, and he's left breathless by James'
proximity, taken by surprise before he can get his guard up. Already, he can tell he's going to
lose whatever battle of wills this is between them now, and he wants to be angry about it. He
should be angry about it.

He tries to be angry about it by hissing, "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Potter?"

"Following your advice," James replies cheerfully, standing way too close for the state of
Regulus' heart rate, but he has dutifully dropped his arm away so they're not touching at all.
That actually does a better job of annoying Regulus than being abducted and stuffed into a
sodding cupboard. "Wasn't it you who said that locking two people who want each other in a
cupboard is a good idea? What was it you said? People who want to snog, especially when
they have proximity and privacy, will eventually, inevitably end up snogging."

"You locked us in here?" Regulus chokes out, stepping back and bumping into the door. Oh
no. Oh, this is bad. He stands by what he said. He didn't come up with that idea lightly; he
knows the power of forced proximity. If he stays in here with James for longer than five
minutes, he's going to hit his knees at some point, he just knows it.

"Only for half an hour," James says, like he's soothing him, but Regulus feels like he could
weep. That's a lot longer than five minutes. That's six sets of five minutes. He can do so
much with six sets of five minutes, and his imagination is already giving him very vivid
ideas. Oh, he's not going to last. He's absolutely going to give in.

"Let me out," Regulus orders, his voice pitched high. "James, let me out right now. I'm not
joking. Open the fucking door."

James clears his throat. "Er, I...can't actually do that. Peter did the time-delay spell. I told you
he's the best at them. It—it will open, though, I promise. Don't panic."

"Don't tell me not to panic!" Regulus bursts out, mildly hysterical at this point. "Why would
you do this? I told you to leave me alone! I don't—I can't be here. I can't fucking be here with
you. This is—" Regulus whips around and yanks a little frantically on the handle, but it
holds. He stifles a groan and resists the ridiculous urge to stomp his feet. No, no, no. Not this.
He's not strong enough. "Fuck. Fucking shit."

"Regulus," James says calmly, his hand carefully settling on his arm, but then he holds both
hands up in surrender when Regulus jerks back and knocks his elbow into the door.

"Don't touch me. Don't talk to me. Stop looking at me, and just—just stop breathing near
me," Regulus retorts sharply, willing his heart to calm the fuck down. His mind—the
traitorous thing—decides to point out that he could be snogging James at the moment, so why
isn't he?
"Alright, hey, it's fine," James tells him, his voice soft, and he backs up as far as the cupboard
will allow, which really isn't far enough. "It's not even about the snogging. I'd mostly like to
talk to you, if that's alright, and maybe you'd like to listen? And—and I know you wanted—I
mean, I'm not holding you to what you said when I snuck into your class. I—I'd still kiss you,
since you asked, but you've clearly changed your mind, which is fine, so if that's what you're
worried about, don't be."

"No," Regulus snaps. "No talking. There will be no talking. We're going to stand here in
complete silence until the door opens, and the first time you speak, I'm going to engorge your
tongue so large that you're tripping over it."

James opens his mouth, hesitates, then sticks his tongue out and crosses his eyes like he's
trying to look at it. His eyebrows furrow, and he slowly pulls it back into his mouth. He
wisely doesn't say a word, tucking his lips in and nodding.

And so, they fall silent.

Regulus leans back against the door, tilting his head against it as he crosses his arms and
closes his eyes. He breathes and counts slowly in his head, doing his level best to ignore that
there's another person in here with him at all. It's incredibly and unfairly impossible to do,
because he doesn't calm down at all. His body is simply aware of James. Inexplicably, he can
feel James' gaze on him, heavy against his skin like a tangible touch. It's not helping his vivid
imagination in the least.

For several minutes, Regulus stands there and waits for some semblance of calm to settle
within him, but it never comes. He's itchy and hot and struggling to be still. He keeps shifting
from one foot to the other, flexing his fingers against his arms where he's crossed them and
held on for support. The sound of James' breathing, soft and steady, sounds so loud in
Regulus' head. He's so close. He's right there.

A war rages on in Regulus, because he repeatedly goes back and forth on opening his eyes or
not. He knows—he just knows that if he does, it'll all be over. Whatever magical grip he has
on this fragile resistance will fail him, and at this point, he can't really recall why he's
resisting at all. Realistically, he knows it's because he was hurt, and because he's scared, and
because his pride and self-expectations weigh on him so heavily that he feels crushed beneath
it all. Despite knowing all of that, the allure of James Potter is much stronger.
Don't do it, don't you fucking dare, you idiot, Regulus berates himself, squeezing his eyes
shut even harder, but he's fighting a losing battle. It's no use, really. He holds out as long as
he can, but his eyes do inevitably flutter open, and oh.

James is already looking at him. Just watching him. His eyes are slightly hooded, and there's
something so tender about his expression that Regulus feels his stomach drop out from
beneath him. Don't, Regulus thinks. Don't look at me like that. But James is. And James
doesn't stop. And Regulus is so dangerously close to falling to pieces in front of him.

The whole world warps out of focus and shrinks down as they stare at each other. It seems to
happen so slowly, the way James gets closer, swaying in like he can't help it. Regulus' vision
fills with James, narrowing in on him until their surroundings disappear altogether, and not a
word is exchanged between them, but James is suddenly within reach. He's closer than he has
been this entire time, and Regulus can't do anything. James just walks forward, gaze fixed
right on him steadily and with purpose, and Regulus is pinned in place, wanting the space
between them to be consumed, wanting to be consumed himself.

Oh, Regulus can't do it. His knees nearly fucking buckle, and he's left shaky and wanting,
taken right to the brink of begging. James doesn't even have to speak. He can just look at him
like that, and Regulus is ready to break.

He'll forgive himself for it this time. It's not his fault. What is he to do? They're locked in a
fucking cupboard, and he's no better than anyone else would be in this situation, no matter
how much he wishes he could be. Even when he tries to tell himself that James doesn't
actually want him, it feels like a lie when James is crowding closer with a breathless noise
and looking at him like that, like he wants to eat him.

"Why are you doing this to me? This isn't fair," Regulus croaks, dropping his arms from
where they're crossed over his chest and opening himself up, letting James in.

James doesn't say anything. He doesn't defend himself, or deny his intentions, which
somehow tears at Regulus' defenses even more. Because when James gets his heart set on
something, he has no shame in it. There's no shame in how he wants Regulus right here and
now, and he doesn't hide it, or do anything to shy away from it. In fact, he leans into it. He
leans in as well, practically pressing Regulus against the door as one of his hands lands
against the door by Regulus' head.

Merlin help him, Regulus is pulling him in. He can't stop himself from fisting the front of
James' robes and tugging him closer until James' body is blanketing his own, pressing right
up against him. Helplessly, his head falls back and his mouth falls open the moment James'
lips brush his cheek. He hears James inhale sharply and nearly fucking whimpers, asking for
more in the only nonverbal way possible, by which he means he tilts his head further and
yanks James closer.

Regulus feels drunk, almost. Intoxicated from the heady rush of James being this close, his
mouth settling more firmly against Regulus' jaw, moving softly along his skin like he wants
to take his time getting where he's going because he's enjoying every moment of the journey.
It's embarrassing the way a shudder ripples through his body, but the sound that leaves his
mouth when James latches onto his neck is more mortifying. He moans. Loud. It's so
humiliating and revealing that he has the hysterical thought that he's going to have to go
drown himself in the lake after this, if he survives it at all.

Like the thought has summoned him, the muffled sound of his brother pierces through
everything, his voice sharp and tight as he snaps, "This one, Pete?"

"Yes, but it's only for eighteen more minutes," is Peter's response, sounding wary. Eighteen
more minutes. Eighteen. Oh, Regulus could do so much with that time.

"I don't care if it's two," Sirius retorts. There's a harsh knock on the door, which causes James
to break away as Regulus pushes him back and curls around to press himself closer to the
door. He feels like he could hug Sirius at this moment, his own personal savior. "Reggie, can
you hear me?"

"Yes," Regulus chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his head against the door,
breathing hard.

"Doing alright?" Sirius murmurs, and Regulus knows what he means. It's almost ironic,
really. No one else in the world would understand that Regulus doesn't like small spaces,
especially being locked in them, but no one else other than Sirius knows their parents used
that as a punishment. The sad thing is, that's not the problem it usually would be, because
James is here, and he always feels safe with James.

"Not really," Regulus admits, even if it's not for the reasons that Sirius thinks. He needs to get
out. Sirius will get him out.

"I'm going to open the door, alright? Just—give me a moment, yeah?" Sirius replies. "I'm
working on it now. Talk to me."

"This wasn't your idea?" Regulus asks weakly.

"Funnily enough, no," is Sirius' flat response. "James failed to mention to me that he would
be whisking my little brother off to seduce him in a cupboard. Can't imagine why."

That startles a breathless laugh out of Regulus. "I—you know, I can see why that may have
slipped his mind."

"He didn't know, Regulus," Sirius says gently. "He—"

"I know," Regulus cuts in, leaning his forehead against the door, feeling oddly like it's him
and Sirius and no one else. It's startlingly soothing. "That's not the problem. It's not—that."

There's a pause, but Sirius understands what he means, because he's the only one who can.
"No? You sound like you're not...doing so well at the moment."

"Not because of the cupboard," Regulus admits sheepishly.

"Well, that's one way to get over that fear," Sirius mutters with a quiet snort. "Almost got it.
One...more...second…"
A few seconds later, not just one, the lock on the door clicks. Regulus immediately wrenches
it open and steps through, sucking in a deep breath like a drowning man coming up for air,
and he would know. He finds that he's tempted to actually fall into Sirius' arms and cling to
him like a small child because of how genuinely grateful he is. Remus and Peter are also
standing outside the door, and Peter looks chagrined, wincing apologetically at Regulus.

"Thank you," Regulus breathes out, speaking directly to Sirius, who looks agitated and
amused at the same time.

As soon as James comes shuffling out behind him, Sirius reaches out and smacks him on the
shoulder. "Idiot. What were you thinking? If you would have mentioned this to me, I could
have told you how stupid of an idea it is."

"It was his idea," James sputters.

"What?" Sirius blinks, then squints at Regulus.

Regulus coughs. "Yes, I'll...leave James to explain that one."

Quickly, he turns on his heel and flees, listening to James immediately launch into an
explanation. The last thing he hears is Remus' startled laughter and Sirius' loud sputtering,
but it's James' voice that echoes in his head as he goes.

It's taken Regulus some time, but he refuses to keep avoiding the stars. He's always loved
them. He's always gone to look at them, especially when Regulus is visible, and letting James
take that away from him has to stop.

But Regulus can't keep living his life around James Potter. So, he slips out late, and he goes
to look at the stars.
Regulus hangs bright in the sky, visible immediately to its namesake. Without a telescope, he
wouldn't be able to make out Thisbe's veil, but he knows it's there. He doesn't really want to
see it anyway. Castor and Pollux are visible as well, when he looks for them—though, really,
Castor is a cluster of stars rather than just one. He can't look at Pollux without thinking of his
grandfather—his mother's father and his father's first cousin, technically—so he doesn't look.

It takes a while for Regulus to notice that he's cold. He's forgotten a jumper, or the proper
robes. It's not as cold as it would be during winter, but spring hasn't fully taken over just yet.
Regulus grimaces and rubs his hands over his arms, the goosebumps on them. He never used
to notice before James.

It's stupid, really, because Regulus has been cold from the moment he walked away from
James, his very blood frosted over and the harsh throb of his heart aching for James to come
warm him again. He remembers what it was like, being in James' arms, feeling the heat of his
embrace. They'd hugged so many times, held onto each other for so many different reasons,
but none of them were real. None of it was real.

Except, Regulus thinks, that night in the corridor after James gave away his Head Boy dorm
without a second thought. That night, Regulus had held him with the desire to be comforted,
and James had held him to comfort him. That was real. No one was there, and no one had
almost died, and there were no excuses for it at all. Regulus closes his eyes and tries to go
back to that moment, and live there, and never leave it.

There's a soft swish, so faint that Regulus almost thinks he imagined it, but his eyes snap
open. He stares at the stars, his heart racing, knocking against his ribs and demanding is that
him, is it him, is it? The following silence feels thick, and Regulus listens with his eyes on the
night sky, straining past the whistling wind to listen for—ah, that.

"I know you're there," Regulus announces, ignoring his heart, which is making a valiant
attempt to crawl up his throat.

After a beat of silence that stretches, there's the rustle of an invisibility cloak hitting the floor.
Regulus turns his head to find James standing only a few steps away, leaning against the rail,
his lips parted. He looks enraptured.
"You are not going to believe me," James breathes out, "but I was actually here first. I just
slipped under my cloak when I heard someone coming in. The chances that it was you…"

"You know I like to come here," Regulus mutters.

James huffs a soft laugh. "I know, but you haven't been. I've come here often, waiting for you
to possibly show up, and you never really do."

"Lovely. Now I know I can never return here again," Regulus says under his breath, scoffing,
and he starts to push away from the rail and turn away.

"Wait, wait, please wait," James blurts out, and then he's surging forward to stand right next
to him, a little bit behind him, and so Regulus bumps right into him when he turns.

James stops.

Regulus stops.

Everything stops.

There's just the gentle curl of James' arm half-raised around Regulus' side, hovering there, his
hand carefully cupping the bend of Regulus' elbow without actually touching it. Regulus is
too close to him; James is so, so warm. Their chests are brushing with every inhale and
exhale.

"James," Regulus croaks.

"Merlin," James says, blowing out a deep, stuttered exhale that ruffles Regulus' hair a bit.
"Fucking hell, Regulus, can't you feel that? The spark, love. We have it; we've always had
it."
"It doesn't mean anything."

"Look at me, then."

After a long moment where his greater sense goes to battle with his pride and desire (his
greater sense doesn't stand a fucking chance, for the record), Regulus tilts his head up and
looks at James. Immediately, this is a mistake. Oh, bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. He tries
anyway, he really does; tries to pretend he's looking at just anyone and not the person who
can make his heart flutter with one glimpse.

Regulus swallows and repeats, "It doesn't mean anything."

"It means whatever we want it to mean," James murmurs, and he doesn't break Regulus' gaze
at all. "You don't know what it means to me, what you mean to me. Can I tell you?"

"James," Regulus starts.

"Wait, Reg, please," James whispers, his eyebrows collapsing together, and now he's got the
sad eyes that make Regulus crumble in five seconds flat. "I want to be enough."

"Don't," Regulus whispers back. "Don't do that. Don't make this about—about a reflection of
you. That's not fair."

"Why isn't it fair?"

"Because you've always been enough. You're more than enough just as you are, and you were
the entire time. You were enough even when I didn't have you."
"But I—" James swallows harshly. "I failed you. Regulus, I failed you, and I'm sorry. I failed
to make sure you knew all the ways in which you've had me for so long. I want to tell you.
Merlin, won't you let me count the ways?"

It's getting harder and harder to keep building up his defenses in the spaces that exist between
every time James comes to him and keeps trying. James is the first and only person in this
world who never fails to keep trying with Regulus, and he craves that. He thinks part of the
reason he's been dragging it out and fighting so hard is just because he likes that James keeps
trying. But he's tired and weak and wanting. He so desperately wants more, even if it's
dangerous.

Regulus is silent for a beat, then looks to the side, ashamed that he wants to hear it. Needs to
hear it. "Yes."

"Yes? You'll let me list all the ways?" James checks. Regulus doesn't answer, which is an
answer in and of itself. "Right, so do you want them chronologically, or in order from the
sweetest to the most devastating?"

"Start from the beginning," Regulus replies, his voice hoarse.

"Alright, so first, I was born—"

"James."

"Fine, fine." James relents with a soft laugh. "Well, I suppose the early stages were from our
very first real conversation."

"When you asked me to fake date you," Regulus says flatly.

James winces. "Er, yeah, that."

"It didn't start there. I don't believe that."

"But it did, actually. That's where it all began, the more that I think about it. You were
so...you, and I pretty much instantly couldn't leave you alone, and yes, maybe I thought it was
all about the plan, but I… Merlin, Regulus, everything about you fascinated me from the very
start. I became rather obsessed, actually. Er, I might've driven my mates a bit mad talking
about you all the time, if I'm honest."

"In the name of getting me to agree," Regulus mutters.

"See, that's what I thought, too," James admits. "But each time I talked to you, I would end
up forgetting that I was meant to be getting you to agree at all. I think… I really do think that
night, that very first night when we were here, that's when it really started. Just the first little
bloom of fancying someone. You told me about the stars, about Pyramus and Thisbe, and I
didn't know it then, but I was looking at you without wanting to look away. And then—oh,
this is embarrassing, but it had to start there, because after that, I was—" He huffs out a
slightly incredulous laugh. "Yes, that's definitely where it began, and I don't really do
anything halfway, so of course I was jealous about Evan just that quickly."

"I thought it was because you didn't like Slytherins."

"I rather think I've proven by now that I don't have an issue with Slytherins, and also… Love,
no offense, but I was banging on about how his name was mediocre and getting offended that
you would fancy him but not me. How did you miss that?"

"That's what it was?" Regulus purses his lips. "Jealousy?"

"Yeah. I'm a bit…" James coughs. "Well, anyway, you of course went on to be terribly kind
and insightful by telling me it was alright to have a bad day, and I—well, that's probably
when I started to fall in love with you."

Regulus glances at him sharply. "What?"

"No one has ever… No one ever told me that before you, or really saw that I was someone
who could have bad days. You made me feel better when I didn't even feel like—me." James
reaches up and presses his hand to his chest. "It was like I could be… I don't know. Like you
were offering me the space to be whoever I was, even when I didn't really know. I didn't even
know I needed it until you'd already given it to me."

"You expect too much from yourself, James," Regulus whispers, his lips tipping down.

James smiles slightly. "See, if not for you, I wouldn't know that about myself now, and I
wouldn't know that it's not...really fair of me to do. How could I not fall in love with you? Do
you even know how safe you make me feel?"

"No," Regulus says, his voice soft, eyes on James as his heart clenches and trembles in his
chest. "No, I didn't know that."

"I'm sorry I never told you," James murmurs, his hand dropping again. He swallows thickly.
"I can't believe I had you, and I wasted it. I lost you. I had you, but I never had you, and I
don't know how I'm meant to go on not having you."

Regulus feels warm. Throughout his whole body, there's just a slow warmth that settles into
his very bones, his veins, each and every inch of him down to the smallest hair follicles on
his scalp. Oh, he hasn't felt warm in so long.

He can't help it. Maybe it's pure stupidity, maybe it's his own desperation, but it's everything
he wants to hear. It's the words he wants to reach out and pluck from the air to keep forever,
spoken by the loveliest lips he's ever known, and Regulus can't help it. He loves him. He
loves James so much.

Regulus swallows as the back of his hand bumps into James', a tentative touch, a quiet one.
He holds his breath as he slips his pinky finger in the crevice of James', where it's slightly
curved, and he links them together as he exhales and confesses, so softly, "I've always been
yours."
James straightens up slightly, his breath audibly hitching, and Regulus drops his gaze to
where their pinkies are hooked together. He can't lift his eyes, too afraid and too prideful and
too fucking hopeful to even try. James should know it already; how could he not know?
Regulus has never been anyone else's.

He feels too full of this want, this adoration, this love—all for James, and it's always been
there, but now it's known. Truly known, and seen, and perceived. Regulus doesn't know how
to hold all of it, because it feels like too much in him, too big to fit inside, like it'll drown him
from within. In a way, it's frightening, feeling so much; dangerous almost, because it's
brighter and louder than he himself has ever been. It leaves him this mold trying to fit around
an abyss when the only option is to fall in, and the deep-dark is so much warmer and lighter
than he ever expected before he tipped over the edge.

How is Regulus meant to handle it all? People aren't built to feel the way he feels for James.
Surely it would crush even the strongest of people, and Regulus certainly isn't. He can't be
blamed for buckling, for crumbling, for giving into it. What else could he do? Merlin, he
doesn't want to do anything else.

"I want you. I have for so long," James whispers, and he sounds closer, too close, but Regulus
closes his eyes. "Merlin, you have no idea how much and for how long. It's the same. I'm all
yours, Regulus."

"James," Regulus murmurs, ducking his head forward as he squeezes his eyes shut tighter,
trying to breathe.

"Just have me," James begs, and he is begging now. He's pressing in and curling closer. "Why
won't you have me?"

"I don't even know what to do with you," Regulus confesses, releasing a hoarse laugh that
resembles a groan.

"Whatever you want. Anything, love." James' forehead presses against his temple. "Please."
Regulus—just as he knew he would, just as everyone has known he would—well, he gives
in. Of course he does. James is begging, and Regulus wants to so badly as it is, and he never
stood a chance. He knew that. He made a good effort, he really did, but there's something so
awfully relieving about letting go of the fight, no more resisting. He's not even ashamed,
really. Maybe it's pathetic, but all men in love are.

He opens his eyes and pulls back slightly to look at James, who looks back. Their pinkies are
still hooked beside them, a secret that brings Regulus more comfort than he could have ever
anticipated. Just a small, reassuring contact that makes the shift of the earth under his feet not
feel as frightening.

"I love you," James says softly, because of course he would, and Regulus immediately turns
his head away, struggling even harder from just that. James blows out a deep breath and
reaches out to press two fingers to his jaw, gently turning his head so Regulus will keep
looking at him. Slowly, James lifts his hand to curl Regulus' hair between his knuckles, his
throat rising and falling harshly. "Let me do it for real. It was always real, but let me know it
this time. Will you?"

Regulus looks at him for a long moment, searching his eyes and not even really looking for
anything. The sincerity and hope is all there; it's all there for him to see, and Regulus just
stares into his eyes because his eyes are beautiful. He's such a beautiful boy, a beautiful soul,
and Regulus believes there's magic everywhere, but he's starting to think that it originates
from him. James Potter invented magic and poured it all over the earth wherever anyone may
walk, like the sun is warm from the sky. Thank you, Regulus thinks. Thank you so much.

"Yes," Regulus breathes out.

A punched-out noise escapes James, and he goes really still like he's holding himself in place.
Regulus can see the absolute ecstatic delight blooming in his eyes. "Yes? Really?"

"Yes, really," Regulus whispers. "Don't make me say it again."

"Say it again. Please, please say it again." James is vibrating like he's about to explode, not
unlike his original response to Regulus agreeing to fake date him, Regulus recalls. There's the
same light in his eyes, only brighter, and he genuinely can't be still, like his excitement is
trying to get up and run away with him. James' pinky breaks from his as both of his hands
dart up to capture Regulus' face, and he demands, "Merlin, tell me again. You'll have me? I
can be with you?"

Regulus blows out a deep breath. This is harder than he thought it would be, because he's still
—he's still him, and he hadn't realized the safety of getting to have James without actually
having him until this very moment. Actually having him is so… Regulus doesn't even know
what to do with it, with how it makes him feel, with the way it sits bright in his chest until
he's glowing. And Regulus isn't a person who glows, you see, so this is hard for him to adjust
to. He's spent a lot of time not really being happy, not fully, and it hits him now that he
doesn't really...know how to be. How to handle it. How to let it happen without his pride
feeling stung and his fear surging. But, for James, he'll try. For James, he wants to try.

"Yes, I'll have you, gladly. Yes, you can—you can be with me, genuinely this time," Regulus
admits.

"Oh, I love you," James tells him, gaze darting all over his face, taking him in like he's a
marvel. "I'm so in love with you."

"James," Regulus mumbles, reaching out to fist his hand in the front of James' jumper. He
tugs on it like a little kid begging for attention, and he wants to hate himself for that, but he
doesn't really have the room inside himself at the moment.

"What? What do you want? You can have anything you want, Regulus," James tells him
earnestly, which is—that's lovely, thanks, but that's not helpful. How did Regulus fall in love
with the most brilliant, oblivious idiot in the world?

Regulus exhales sharply through his nose, frustrated because, apparently, if he wants things
to get done around here, he's going to have to do them himself; he's not sure what he was
expecting, really. He fists the front of James' jumper more firmly and stops just tugging,
choosing instead to reel him in, and James stumbles forward with a sharp inhale of pure
excitement as he realizes what's happening.

Regulus tilts his head up and finds James' mouth with his own, and it's nothing like any kiss
they've ever shared before. It's fragile. It's soft and slow and precious, a tentative greeting
after too long of a goodbye. James sinks into it with a quiet sound, his hands still cradling
Regulus' cheeks, touching him like he's stardust in the curl of his fingers, the cosmos cupped
in the crevices of his palm.

James' hands slide down the sides of his neck before his arms slip around Regulus' shoulders,
and Regulus hooks his hands together behind James' back, keeping him close. It's a bit of a
role reversal for them, seeing as it's usually the other way around, but Regulus doesn't mind
the change. It's something new, having James' arms wrapped around his neck, leaning into
him like he's about to fall over or just start climbing him, and Regulus can hold him up. He
gets to, and does, and likes it. Oh, fucking hell, he really likes it.

Regulus feels like he has to catch his breath, like he needs a moment to shake the cobwebs
out of his head, but then he goes and mucks that up quite nicely by leaving James' mouth to
latch onto the underside of his jaw instead. James seems perfectly fine with this, as well as
the fact that Regulus is mindlessly walking him back against the wall next to the rail. He
releases a breathless noise the moment Regulus pushes him up to it, still mouthing insistently
at his throat.

"Fuck," James croaks, his head falling back against the wall as one of his hands winds up in
Regulus' hair and the other flies out to clamp down on the rail, holding tight.

Regulus can't tell which of them are trembling, where it starts or where it ends, but he's rather
pleased about this, actually. In fact, he's so pleased by all of this that he's never, ever going to
complain about one singular thing in his life ever again. What could he possibly have to
complain about? Look at him now.

James ducks his head forward, breathing hard, and he nudges at the side of Regulus' cheek
with his nose, seeking and searching and asking, and Regulus opens the door. He turns on his
hinges and lets James inside, their mouths meeting with the taste of welcome home on their
lips.

Hand on his jaw, James kisses him like a drowning man coming up for air, desperate and so
very grateful. He kisses Regulus deeply, curling closer as Regulus makes a small sound
against his mouth and reels him in even more by his collar.

"I love you. I'm so in love with you," James declares breathlessly between quick kisses,
sounding dazed. He cups the side of Regulus head, tangling his fingers into his hair, and then
he presses quick, firm kisses to his cheek and along his jaw. "You love me?"

"Yes," Regulus answers, his fingers flexing in James' collar, eyes clamped shut tight. "I do.
So much. More than life loves the sun, that's the way I love you."

"Oh, that's really—that's so—" James gives up and just tips his forehead against Regulus',
laughing softly, exhilarated, leaning into him and touching him and basking in the closeness
of him while Regulus does the same.

"What do I even do with that?" Regulus mumbles.

James nudges his nose with his own. "Whatever you like. Keep doing what you're doing,
anything that feels right, because I have to admit, it's been working for me for a long time
now."

Regulus' response to this is to pull away.

"Wait, no, don't do that," James whines, his voice hoarse as he reaches out, since Regulus
drops his hands and takes a few steps back. "I—what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," Regulus rasps, then has to clear his throat because it's rough. He doesn't
really know how to explain that nothing is wrong; everything is too right, and he doesn't
really know what to do with that either. Also, well, he's quite sure if he didn't stop, he
wouldn't stop.

"Reg," James murmurs, still reaching out for him, his eyes wide and his pupils blown, "talk to
me."

"Just need a minute," Regulus says, then smacks James' fingers away lightly, watching them
retreat immediately. He stares after them mournfully. Come back, he thinks.
 James half-raises his hands like he heard the thought. "I mean, sure, but you look...like you'd
rather be over here. You can take a minute with me, you know. I won't—I'll just hold you."
He pauses, then frowns. "If you want. If you don't, that's fine, too. Just—the option is there if
—if—"

"Merlin, shut up," Regulus groans, shuffling forward to walk right into James' arms and drop
his head on James' shoulder with a quiet huff. Tension starts draining out of him instantly,
especially when James' arms loosely wrap around him.

"Is that better, or are you just indulging me?" James murmurs, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"Can it be both?"

"Sure."

"Both, then," Regulus mutters.

"Take a minute, love," James says softly. "I'll still be here."

Regulus closes his eyes and leans into him, settling in against him with a quiet sigh, and he's
quite sure he's never felt so content. Here in James' arms, under the blanket of solitude and
stars, Regulus takes a minute, then some more, then maybe more than most are fortunate
enough to have. There's no rush, and he's never felt the luxury of leisure like this before, but
he doesn't want to leave it now.

James doesn't make him. James keeps right on holding onto him, letting him take as long as
he likes, and he's still there by the time Regulus is settled and ready. He's still there, and
Regulus thinks he's always going to be.

Chapter End Notes

okay, let's get into it.

first, remus and regulus 😭😭😭 someone said this was the anti-thesis to bfb, and that's
so true. it actually pained me a little bit writing that blurb about how regulus and remus
aren't really 'friends', because my brain was rioting, like shut up you are BEST
FRIENDS. however, in this story, it doesn't make sense. but it DOES make sense that
they would get along, so i was so excited to let them have a moment together. remus
talking about the prank... regulus not being able to hate sirius until he left... OUCH.
however, you know im a regulus kin, because i ALSO don't want to think about sirius
ever doing anything wrong ever. i love him, he means the world to me. also, him leaving
wasn't wrong, and regulus KNOWS that, even if it still hurts. and remus saying that
james and sirius are made of the same magic. god, i love them all

second, peter my beloved <3 he said: i will objectify james to melt regulus' brain, and no

🥰
one can stop me. james would be delighted by this, just as an aside. king behavior, you
keep doing you, pete

third, sirius and regulus being siblings!!! good brothers!!! i love them. getting to write
them having a good relationship really cleansed my soul, i want you all to know that.
they're both very important to me, if you couldn't tell by now. also, sirius innocently
asking where james is, and peter giggling and being like, oh locked in a closet with
regulus. then sirius is just like 😐 WHAT, and immediately goes to save him. help 😭

fourth, lily light and love of my life <3 i adore her. maybe it's a little harder to tell from
regulus' POV (pls forgive him, he is suffering jealousy and envy and doing his best), but
lily means sooooo much to me. i think that her situation with snape is very... like, a lot of
people have different perspectives on it, so i didn't really dive into it, but i know what
it's like to have a friend and lose them in a very bad way. that feeling of like: i don't want
anything to be fixed, im better off without this person, but i feel as if i wasted so much
time and suffered so much, and THAT hurts and frustrates me...that feeling is so real.
anyway, i love her so much <3

fifth, james!!!! the fool in love!!! he put in the WORK. hats off to him, honestly. he was

and locking them in a cupboard just to see what would happen. 💀

killing it out there and having the time of his life doing so. not him stealing regulus' idea
don't blame him,
🥰
🥰🥰
love made him crazy. but he won, though. he got his man! the way he was so happy

sixth, regulus... this poor, hopeless boy... he really folded 😭😭😭 i mean, can you
blame him, though? he was catching hell from all sides, and he GENUINELY didn't
stand a chance. like, he wanted to be angry, and hurt, and upset. he had every right to be.
and he was. it was just a difficult situation as well, because he's in love. he's literally in
love. what would anyone do? the fact that he resisted as long as he did anyway... hats off
to him, too. couldn't be me. i would have folded literally the moment james said "wait,
me too" HELP.

that about wraps up that chapter, i think.

 ACT FIVE: Part Two
Chapter Notes

warnings for this chapter: drug use (a few characters get a little high, nothing too heavy,
just a lot of giggling, and it's the only time it happens), and an abundance of fluff with a
few little bittersweet moments mixed in. oh, and also james having a firm grasp on
consent!

enjoy! :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Regulus' friends are laughing at him.

"And—and after all of that," Barty wheezes, "you've ended up becoming his boyfriend for
real!"

"You fought so hard, and for what?" Dorcas chokes out, nearly crying, curled up as she
cradles her stomach.

Through her giggles, Pandora manages to get out, "I told you there'd be no use in trying to
stop it. Oh, you're hopeless."

"He—he got you. James Potter got you!" Evan crows, leaning over against Barty as they
laugh uproariously.

"Regulus, two weeks ago," Dorcas announces, setting her face into a pout. "Oh, James
doesn't love me. He doesn't want me. It's not real. He's in love with Lily Evans."

"He fake confessed his love for me," Barty declares dramatically, pressing the back of his
hand against his forehead before promptly dumping himself over in Evan's lap.
Evan cups his face in his hands and curls over him, gasping loudly. "Oh, I'm so heartbroken. I
had to end things with him. After all that time he spent being absolutely besotted with me, I
knew I'd never know true happiness, because it was all a lie!"

"Evan, I have to tell you, I'm deeply in love with you and want to spend the rest of my life
with you," Barty announces, reaching up to cup his cheeks in return, staring deeply, soulfully
into his eyes.

"No, I don't believe you," Evan replies solemnly. "I simply do not accept it. There's no way it
could be true, because it's everything I want, and I'd never get to have what I want."

"But love, you could have me, if only you'd have me," Barty insists, stroking his cheek.

"Have you? How can I have you when you belong to another?" Evan asks, sighing sadly.

"No, I belong only to you," Barty chokes out, then clears his throat and blinks. "You know, I
should tell you, I'm actually very attracted to you right now."

"Oh, shut up," Evan says with a laugh, rolling his eyes and pinching Barty's cheeks, his gaze
warm.

Barty stares up at him. "You think I'm joking, but I'm not. Oh, won't you be the Regulus
Black to my James Potter?"

"Without question," Evan assures him, winking, then he ducks in and smacks a kiss to Barty's
forehead. He's still chuckling when he straightens up, and Barty grins.

"You're all awful and I hate you," Regulus says.

Dorcas sighs and puts her cheek over on her fist. "Sorry, but what are you expecting? You've
been a mess about James for months, Reg, and then you show up just casually stating you're
dating now. Again, but for real this time. I mean, honestly."

"I realize that this is embarrassing, but if you could all try being supportive for once,"
Regulus grumbles.

"Oi!" Evan protests. "We've been nothing but supportive this entire time, from beginning to
end."

"Obviously we're very happy for you," Pandora says, "but you can't expect us not to find the
humor in it. Regulus, it's quite literally the most ridiculous thing any of us have ever done,
and Barty once broke eight laws personally set by his father just because he was bored."

"And I got away with it, too," Barty mutters. He sighs. "I reckon this means you'll be going
for Easter break next month, and I'll be left here all alone."

"Yes," Regulus says simply, not even sorry.

Barty waggles his eyebrows at him. "You know what that means, don't you? It means you'll
have plenty of time and plenty of opportunities to shag him."

The sound that leaves Regulus' mouth sets all his friends off again, laughing and laughing at
him.

"Did you see that?!" Melanie shrieks, whipping around in the air to beam at Regulus. "I got
it! I finally got it! Tell me you saw that, because I don't know if I can do it again."

Regulus huffs out a soft laugh, almost against his will. "Yes, I saw. It was…"
"Say it," Melanie urges, her eyes sparkling. "Go on, Regulus. You know you want to. Please
say it."

"Cool." Regulus' lips twitch. "It was very cool, Melanie."

"Yes!" Melanie shouts, flinging her arms up and grinning up at the sky, looking so young and
full of life, carefree in a way Regulus really can never remember himself being. There's an
innocence to her that he never had.

Because Melanie finally managed the move she's been working on for the last few times
they've flown together, she decides that it's finally time for them to fly down. Clive and Gio,
who had already worn themselves out fifteen minutes ago, watch them land with chuckles
and dutiful praise for Melanie, who is still vibrating like she's about to explode.

Predictably, Gio says, "That was so cool, Melanie," while she bounces in place, still riding
the thrill. These two are very obsessed with 'cool' things, Regulus has learned.

"I owe it all to the coolest," Melanie chirps, leaning over to nudge Regulus' arm with his
elbow, gazing up at him with undeniable stars in her eyes.

"I just showed you," Regulus murmurs. "You did all the work yourself. You're very good."

Clive tosses a handful of grass at Gio's head. "You, on the other hand, are shit."

"I am not!" Gio sputters, swiping grass from his hair. "Maybe you're just a shit teacher. I've
learned more from Regulus than you, and he's not even a Chaser!"

"I need some talent to work with," Clive teases, reaching over to pick a few blades of grass
that Gio missed.

"Well, I need a teacher who's actually good. You're not even the best Chaser."
"And who could ever be better?"

Gio smirks. "James Potter."

Regulus hums. "You're not wrong."

"Oi!" Clive blurts out, whipping towards him. "James isn't a better Chaser than me. He just—
has a nicer broom, is all. And he's a year ahead, so he's had more practice. Besides, he's
probably been flying since he could walk. I never even saw a broom until I was eleven. He
has an unfair advantage!"

"He'd probably be a better teacher than you, though, being Captain and all," Gio muses, and
Clive scowls.

"You're not that bad," Regulus tells Gio, who looks like he doesn't know whether to be
pleased or offended by the backhanded compliment. "You just need more practice, Gio. It's
the same with Melanie. The harder you work at it, the better you'll be at it. She's improved
loads since she started, and I've seen you do the same."

"See, why can't you be like that?" Gio mutters to Clive, who snorts and throws more grass at
his head.

Melanie kicks her foot out to nudge the side of Gio's leg, then does it harder when he makes a
face at her. "No, don't you start. We have that essay due for McGonagall tomorrow, and
neither of us have even opened the book."

"You just want to go pretend you need help from Tina," Gio mocks, sing-song, breaking out
into a grin.

"Shut it," Melanie snaps, kicking more insistently at his leg until he drags himself up.
"Go. Go on, go inside," Clive encourages, helping push Gio up by his shoulder but doing
nothing to stand up as well. As Gio and Melanie start to go, Clive glances at Regulus. "Stay
out here for a bit, yeah?"

Regulus frowns. "Why?"

"Well, if you stay, you'll find out," Clive replies, raising his eyebrows, a small smile playing
with the corners of his mouth.

"Regulus, are you coming in?!" Melanie calls, Gio swiveling them both, as she has hopped
onto his back.

"Go on, we'll see you later," Regulus calls back, heaving a sigh as he watches them turn and
continue on, laughing the whole way. He glances over at Clive. "What?"

Clive chuckles. "Sit down, would you?"

"Why?" Regulus does dutifully sit, but he's suspicious.

"Relax, Regulus," Clive says with a huff of laughter, shaking his head as he casually reaches
into his robes. "I just wanted to show you something."

"What's that?" Regulus asks, immediately focusing on the small tin in Clive's hand.

"Ever had a spliff?" Clive asks him with a slow grin, popping open the tin to reveal two thin
lines of white paper wrinkled with something that doesn't look edible packed in it.

Regulus frowns. "A spliff? No."

"Ever tried from a pipe?" Clive prompts.

"No, but my—" Regulus halts, just for a moment, just to be noticeable, and then he continues
on, his voice flat and emotionless. "My father had a pipe he'd smoke Greengrass produced
jillyfloss shavings from."

"What the bloody hell is jillyfloss?"

"A very expensive, foreign plant."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"It's like that, except not at all. Good thing about a spliff, it'll make you feel really, really
good."

"A drug?"

"Well, that depends on who you ask." Clive waggles his eyebrows and pulls out one of the
spliffs, clasping the tin shut and sitting it aside. "Me and my mates back home do it all the
time. Perfectly safe, mind you. Gives you a bit of a rush in the head, but it feels good." He
fiddles around in his robes again and pulls something out. "This is a zippo. Muggle thing.
You flick it like this, see, and—yeah, there we are."

"Can I see that?" Regulus asks, holding his hand out as he watches Clive hold the flame to
the spliff and inhale, his cheeks hollowing. He snaps the lid shut and passes the zippo over,
and Regulus turns his curious gaze down to it. He fiddles with it, eyebrows furrowed as he
lifts the lid, flicks it, and gently waves his fingers over the flame. After a solid minute, he
declares, with certainty, "My brother would love this. Where can I get one of these?"
"Mm, you can have that one," Clive says easily. "I have a few more in my dorm. My brother
likes them, too."

"You have a brother?"

"Mhm."

"Is he here at Hogwarts?" Regulus asks, because he wouldn't know. Pandora would know,
probably.

Clive shakes his head, blowing smoke again. "No, he's older than I am. Muggle through and
through. Never got the letter."

"Oh," Regulus says.

"Here," Clive replies, offering the spliff.

Regulus stares at it, then he gives a mental shrug and reaches out to take it. Ultimately, he
trusts Clive not to poison him at the very least, and it's Muggle, so how hard can it be?

A moment later, he's coughing and curling forward as Clive howls with laughter. Regulus
jerks the spliff out away from him, glaring at it as he keeps coughing, and Clive is nearly in
tears. They both end up having to catch their breath, just for very different reasons.

"No, thank you," Regulus says stiffly, holding the spliff out, officially done with the fucking
thing.

"Oh, Regulus, you are so…" Clive shakes his head and chuckles again, taking the spliff. "It's
like that the very first time for everyone. Gets easier if you keep doing it."
Regulus wrinkles his nose. "And what idiot discovered that? Isn't that a foolish thing to do?
Have that reaction and decide to—what, keep doing it anyway?"

"Dunno who, but they were bloody brilliant," Clive muses, inhaling again and tilting his head
back to blow smoke up at the sky. He hums in approval. "First time I ever had a spliff was
with my brother. Just got back from fourth year, and he's four years older, so he thought it'd
be best for me to get into things like that with someone who'd look after me. It was good,
honestly. Spent hours telling him all about Hogwarts while he just giggled at how mad it all
sounded."

"Does it sound mad?" Regulus asks with a frown.

Clive lifts his head and holds out the spliff, raising his eyebrows. "Have a bit more, and it
will."

"I don't—" Regulus wrinkles his nose and looks at the spliff like it has personally offended
him. "Will it choke me again?"

"Not if you breathe," Clive says, and Regulus takes it.

He lasts three seconds before he's sputtering and jerking back, coughing harshly, but Clive is
coughing with him—and also laughing, the prick. Regulus glares at him this time as he
pounds on his chest, but Clive just grabs the spliff and waves it around with a broad grin and
takes another drag.

"So much for fucking breathing," Regulus snaps, but he does note that the harsh pressure in
his chest has eased a bit.

"No, no, that was too much," Clive says, muffling laughter and blowing smoke right in
Regulus' face. "Hold on, do it one more time, yeah? Just trust me. One more time."
"I'd rather not die, thank you," Regulus says flatly.

Clive rolls his eyes, then inhales and offers it again, not pushing, just waiting. Regulus starts
to refuse, but he does find that he's recovered, so he tries once more and—doesn't cough. He
knows what to expect this time, and it's not too much at all, so it doesn't sit as heavy in his
chest, and the burn has softened to something he almost likes. He blinks and pulls away
slowly, startled.

Grinning, Clive raises his eyebrows. "Better, yeah?"

"That time," Regulus admits reluctantly, holding the spliff out, squinting at it. Clive waits
patiently. After great deliberation, Regulus brings it to his lips and carefully inhales,
managing not to choke. Well, alright, so maybe that's not so bad, actually.

"There you go," Clive says softly, smiling.

Regulus passes it back over, exhaling slowly and watching the white cloud drift away. "What
would it take for you to give me that last one so I can show my brother?"

"Nothing at all." Clive closes the tin and holds it out, his eyes bright. "I have more in my
dorm. Just give me my tin back after. It's good for bonding with your brother, I swear it."

"I just want to see him choke," Regulus says, and Clive tilts his head back, laughing brightly.

They pass the spliff back and forth. Regulus stops taking it when he forgets that it's there, too
busy feeling the grass under his fingertips. It's nice grass. Feels nice. The thought makes a
laugh bubble up in his throat, slipping out of him so easily, like it's made of soap bubbles.
Pop, pop, pop.

"Oh, enjoying yourself, are you?" Clive teases, finishing the spliff himself, flicking it away
when it's gone.
"I—yeah, actually," Regulus admits, startled by this, and he can hear how startled he is by it,
which somehow sounds absurd to him, so he starts laughing again. Clive laughs with him.
"Why—why did you want to do this with me?"

Clive's laughter fades, but his smile remains. "Suppose it's a bit of a thank you, maybe.
You've really helped me, more than you'll ever know. My—well, the bloke I was shagging
—"

"The one who broke up with you on Valentine's Day."

"Right, him. You know, in the beginning, I thought he was different than he actually was. But
I think I was just—just making up this version of him in my head to excuse how I let him
treat me. He could never actually say he was queer, even if he could shag me and tell me he
loved me. And it's not… I never pressured him, but I was letting him use me, and it wasn't
healthy. I just—I want something healthy."

"No one in the queer club fit your fancy?" Regulus tries, not really good at being reassuring,
but he's comfortable enough with Clive at this point to actually make the effort.

"I've been talking to someone, yeah," Clive murmurs, his cheeks turning red, a broad grin
stretching across his face.

Regulus hums. "Is it going well?"

"I think so," Clive says bashfully, and Regulus huffs a laugh, which sets them both off again.
Regulus can't help it, he just finds everything so amusing right now. Clive, once calm, looks
at him and raises his eyebrows. "So, you and James got back together, then? People are
talking about it all over the castle."

"Yes, we—ah, well, it's—it's a fairly new development," Regulus admits, grinning down at
his lap. "Just yesterday, really, and I haven't seen him since."
"Happy about it?" Clive muses.

"Immeasurably," Regulus says.

Clive quirks a small smile. "I was a bit disappointed when I heard you two weren't together
anymore. I think a lot of people were. You two are sort of the—the pioneers of this whole
thing, I suppose. If not for you and him… Well, I don't even want to think about it."

"I don't regret it," Regulus mumbles. "Not one bit of it, even when it was hard. It was always
worth it with him."

"Love makes things worth it," Clive agrees.

Regulus nods, humming thoughtfully. He's silent for a long moment, just brushing his fingers
over the grass down by his hip. Helplessly, he gets distracted by the way some of the grass
pokes in his skin. It itches a little. He likes it.

His mind inevitably turns to James. Lovely, lovely James. They haven't seen each other since
the prior night on the astronomy tower. In fairness, they've had classes and such, and Regulus
ended up sleeping in, which made him miss breakfast; taking a meal with his friends in
private, which made him miss lunch; and it's not dinner yet. Regulus may see him then,
or...where is he now? Does Regulus know?

Classes are over, so there's only a few places James would be if he's not sneaking about the
castle with his friends, pulling pranks and causing mischief. He should be using this time to
study and prepare for his N.E.W.T.s, so the library could be an option, but Regulus would be
willing to bet that James is just in the common room. Regulus knows where that is.

"Going somewhere?" Clive asks, watching him clamor to his feet and stumble a bit.
"James," is what falls out of Regulus' mouth, ridiculously enough, even though it has no right
to. He doesn't mean for it to, but that's the name that leaves his lips. This amuses him for
some reason, and he giggles and stifles laughter while stumbling all the way back to the
castle.

The thing about Hogwarts is, it's really a bit of a hazard, structurally speaking. Regulus is
rather used to it, usually, even a bit oblivious, but it's particularly hard to ignore right now.

Regulus can't make it past the stairs.

They just—they keep moving. Swinging about at their will. Taking him with them. He
honestly doesn't even bother trying, and instead, he sinks down on the stairs and lets it go
back and forth, riding it along. Really, it's sort of nice, and he hums quietly to himself, head
tipped back against the side of the stairs, feeling them move and shift under him randomly
and without warning. At least he doesn't feel nauseous.

He's not sure how long he's been sitting in the same spot, but he does eventually hear,
"Reg?"

Cracking open one eye, Regulus says, "Oh. Hi, Sirius."

"What are you doing?" Sirius asks, squinting at him as he moves up the steps and stands right
next to him, looking down at him with a small frown.

"Riding the stairs, I think. Don't look so—serious." Regulus pauses, then muffles a laugh.
"Sirius is serious. What a truly ridiculous name."

Sirius stares at him. "Regulus, are you feeling alright?"

"I feel marvelous," Regulus tells him, and it's even the truth, so he isn't sure why Sirius looks
so skeptical. It takes another long beat of silence where they're just staring at each other for
Regulus to release a quiet gasp and fumble in his robes. "Oh, I have—wait, wait, I have
something for you."

"Do you?" Sirius glances up and looks around. The stairs have paused, so he could
technically continue on to his common room, but he nonetheless turns and plops down on the
step beside Regulus. "Alright, let's see it, then."

Regulus hums triumphantly when he locates the zippo, letting Sirius take it from him, his
eyebrows furrowed. "It's a Muggle thing called a zippo. You—you open it, see, and flick it,
and then it summons a little flame."

"I know what a zippo is," Sirius replies, amused, his head tilting as he studies Regulus more
closely. "Wait, how do you know, and why are you giving it to me?"

"A friend told me, and I assumed you'd like it, so I got it for you," Regulus admits, blinking
at him.

Sirius looks startled, pausing for a moment after jerking the zippo's lid open with a flick of
his wrist. He lifts his thumb and gingerly snaps it shut. "Reggie, are you...high?"

"I got the zippo for you before I got high," Regulus feels compelled to point out, and Sirius
ducks his head forward, shoulders shaking as he erupts into laughter. Regulus wants to be
offended (he thinks he would usually be offended), but he can only laugh along with him.
Everything is just so funny.

"I—thank you for the—the zippo," Sirius wheezes, lifting his hand to cover his face. He
barely even jostles when the stairs shift and start swinging again, but Regulus releases a deep,
startled oh while holding his arms out, and Sirius folds forward laughing once more.

"Do you like it?" Regulus asks once he's adjusted to the motion, and he gestures to the zippo.
"Yeah, I do," Sirius murmurs, his grin of amusement fading into something softer. "Thanks."

Regulus hums. "Don't tell anyone."

"No, never," Sirius teases, lips twitching. "Merlin forbid anyone know you're capable of
random acts of kindness."

"No one needs to know. They'll come to expect it, then."

"Oh, the horror."

"Truly," Regulus agrees.

Sirius snorts and flips the zippo between his hands. "How did you get high, with who, and
why are you...here? Literally just here on the stairs?"

"Spliff. Clive Abrams. Oh, and I was trying my best to go see James, but I did not take into
consideration the faulty stair system Hogwarts seems to have," Regulus explains.

"Ah, I see," Sirius says, nodding like it all makes sense now.

Regulus is silent for a long moment, then asks, "Do you want to get high?"

"Do I—" Sirius' eyebrows fly up. "Regulus, do you have drugs on your person at the
moment?"

"Well, that depends on what your answer to whether or not you'd like to get high is." Regulus
presses his lips together and fights a ridiculous, absurd laugh. It's very hard to do, and he can
feel his face twitching helplessly.
"My darling little brother, look at you, look at what becomes of you now. Such rebellion.
Such mischief. My, my, what would Mother and Father say?" Sirius breaks out into a grin and
leans in, eyes bright. "Doesn't matter, because we're about to be too high together to care."

They do, in fact, sit right there and smoke a spliff together, using Sirius' new zippo to light it.
Sirius doesn't choke, and he smokes most of it, which leads him to explain that he's done this
before with friends. At one point, a group of young girls come up the stairs, forcing Sirius
and Regulus to scoot to the side, trying (and failing) to look innocent. They end up laughing
rather ridiculously about the whole thing.

When Regulus first showed up at the Potters, he was a bit of a wreck, but that night had been
fairly traumatic. After that, he and Sirius raged at each other for days, fighting about anything
and everything, even the most ridiculous things.

Regulus distinctly remembers throwing a glass figurine at Sirius' head at one point, which
had caused Sirius to scream at him and call him a large variety of nasty things. There was one
point where Sirius just—lost it, and the next thing either of them knew, they were lunging for
each other and wrestling on the ground, shrieking and biting and kicking and scratching, and
then—laughing. They just started laughing, because it was so fucking ridiculous, and then
they were lying there on the ground, tired and wheezing. They breathed. Then, they talked,
properly talked, and cried a bit (Sirius, mostly), and that was the start of them mending all
that was broken.

And now, somehow, they're here. An older brother next to a younger one. Sirius holding onto
the gift Regulus has given him and laughing breathlessly with him like there's nothing he'd
rather do. Regulus knows, even now, that it's not really true. He doesn't even entertain the
thought of trying to be all Sirius needs or wants out of life, not when James exists, and it's not
a choice; he would never ask Sirius to choose him instead. Sirius won't, Sirius was never
going to, and Regulus has to tolerate the way that stings for the rest of his life.

It's alright, really. Regulus thinks he's made his peace with it, as much as anyone can make
their peace with such a thing. He's learning that there's a balance; Sirius has clearly found the
balance. Because he's here. Right now, he's here, and that's enough for Regulus. It's more
than he ever expected to have.
At some point, Peter finds them. Immediately upon seeing them, he says, "Are you both
high?"

This causes Regulus and Sirius to burst out laughing, and it's Sirius who chokes out, "No, no,
whatever gave you that idea, Pete? We're—we're Blacks from the ancient and noble house of
Black, and we'd never."

"Right," Peter declares. "I'm getting Remus and James."

"Traitor!" Sirius calls after him, then dissolves into laughter again while Regulus tries (and
fails) to catch his breath.

Not very long after, Remus and James appear at the top of the stairs. James looks baffled, and
Remus looks exasperated. Sirius and Regulus exchange one look before they're roaring with
laughter all over again, leaning on each other and nearly toppling over as the stairs start to
swing.

"Come on, you idiot," Remus says fondly, moving to grab Sirius by his arm and help him
stand. He clicks his tongue, but there's laughter in his tone. "What were you thinking? What
if McGonagall had come by, or any Professor?"

"Oh, pish posh," Sirius replies with a sniff, then grins and drapes himself all over Remus.
"No one did, in any case, and I knew you'd come find me to fuss eventually."

"Mhm," Remus hums, rolling his eyes.

"Moony, Moony, Moony. Moonbeam, Moonshine, my moonage daydream, my lovely little

moon-drop," Sirius coos, swaying into him with a breathless laugh. "Moon-man. My man on
the moon. The moon to my stars. The—"

"Yes, you've made your point," Remus cuts in with a sigh, arm around Sirius' waist as he
helps him tackle the steps. It's not so much that Sirius can't do it, but more that he can't seem
to be bothered to, much more interested in gazing at Remus instead. "Watch your feet,
Sirius."

"But you're my favorite view," Sirius says with a grin.

Remus huffs out a laugh. "And seeing as you're mine, I'd like to get you safely on the landing
without you suffering any damage. Be beautiful and smart. I know you have it in you."

"I do. Indeed I do, just for you," Sirius agrees, actually focusing as he's being asked.

"Hello," James murmurs, crouching down in front of Regulus and looking at him with a
funny little smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Hi," Regulus breathes out, immediately breaking out into a helpless grin. "I'm—I'm feeling
very good. And you?"

James tucks his lips in, hiding a smile. "I can see that. I'm feeling alright myself. Would you
like to get up?"

"I'm very comfortable."

"I'm sure. Only, well, my bed would be more comfortable, don't you think?"

"Your bed," Regulus repeats, then finds himself laughing uncontrollably, just soft giggles
spilling out of his mouth. James watches him, amused. "Oh, well, that does sound more
comfortable, actually. I'd like to be there now."

"Alright, let's get you there, then. Do you need help?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Here we go," James says, lips twitching as he leans in to get an arm around him, helping him
to stand.

"I knew you'd come save me from the stairs," Regulus mumbles, laughing again, still
laughing. "Of course you would. They're very stupid, you know."

"The stairs?"

"Mm."

James chuckles and helps him along, and Regulus continues to explain why the stairs are
stupid and why Hogwarts itself isn't really designed properly, which leads him into rambling
about architecture and his interest in it that he's only discovering at this exact moment. He
decides he will become an architect, to which James promptly announces his support.

Up ahead, Remus keeps Sirius from stumbling through the portrait, and it feels like Regulus
blinks and finds James doing the same to him. As he's led through, Mary calls out a greeting
of, "Baby Black, good to see you around again!" Regulus' response to this is to turn his face
against James' shoulder and shake with laughter for some reason.

Following that, there are yet more stairs, which Regulus rants about the entire way while
James dutifully listens and hums in all the right places. But, finally, they make it back to the
dorm. Peter is already there, a spread of food on the floor, which Sirius and Remus are
already helping themselves to. James drags Regulus there and helps him sit, and goodness,
food is so good? He's never really thought about it, but it is.

"This is so good," Regulus mumbles, his eyes closed as he chews and releases a sigh of pure
appreciation.
"Gods, it is, isn't it?" Sirius agrees, mouth full, cheeks puffed out. "Peter, thank you for going
to the kitchens. You are just the best. Truly, truly the best."

"Best," Regulus agrees, bobbing his head.

"I will build you a shrine," Sirius declares. "You deserve a shrine. You should be worshiped."

"Worshiped," Regulus echoes supportively, then takes another bite, so fucking pleased right
now.

"Cheers," Peter says, stifling laughter.

Following the demolition of literally every bite, Remus promptly ushers Sirius up and dumps
him into bed, telling him to stay there, and Sirius mumbles something about dogs and orders
and laughs quietly to himself while Remus rolls his eyes with a fond smile and leaves him.
James, alternatively, gets Regulus into his bed, pulls out the snitch, and pats his head before
leaving him to watch it, utterly entranced.

Distantly, Regulus can hear Peter, James, and Remus talking and laughing—revising or
plotting chaos or both—but it's background for him. He loses all sense of time as he watches
the snitch flutter before him; a few times, he tries to reach out and catch it, but gives up when
he misses it. Merlin, he's usually a better Seeker than this.

At some point, the room grows dark and the background chatter goes quiet. James slips into
bed, shutting the hangings with a flick of his wand, and Regulus really wants to look at him,
but the snitch has all of his focus.

"James, do you think I'm a good Seeker?" Regulus mumbles.

"I do, yes," James says promptly.

Regulus frowns. "I can't catch it."

"You're high, love."

"Still?"

"Yes, I'd say so," James tells him. "Do you want the snitch to be caught?"

"I don't know," Regulus admits. "I want to look at you."

James is silent for a beat, and he coughs out a laugh before he says, "I don't know what that
has to do with the snitch."

"So much," Regulus mutters.

"Sure." James' hand comes into view, plucking the snitch out of the air easily, gently.
Regulus' gaze follows it all the way over, his head turning until he can see James' face. He
almost instantly forgets about the snitch. "Is that better?"

"Yes," Regulus murmurs, unaware that he's smiling until James smiles at him and he tries to
smile back, only to find that he's already doing it. This is funny to him, so he starts laughing,
low and quiet and helpless.

"What?" James asks, looking so amused.

Regulus shrugs one shoulder and, with commendable effort, pushes himself over until he's
lying on his side. His knees knock into James', but James doesn't seem to mind. As his
laughter fades, Regulus drags one hand up to reach out and touch the very tip of James' nose,
gently brushing the pad of his finger up the line of it until he bumps into where his glasses sit
on the bend of it. He pushes them up a little bit, since they're a little farther down than they
should be.
Entranced with this now, Regulus trails his finger over the glasses and past the bridge of
James' nose, pushing in between his eyebrows. He has a small blemish there, a bit of acne,
and Regulus pokes it, watching the slight discoloration of his brown skin highlight it further.
He lifts his finger away, then carefully runs his finger along James' right eyebrow. There's a
few tiny hairs that stick out, so Regulus smooths them down, then drags his finger back to
make them stick up again. After a pause, he imagines the feeling is uncomfortable, having a
finger run backwards across your eyebrow, so he smooths it the right way once more. He
repeats the process with the left.

"Regulus," James says.

"Hm?"

"What...exactly are you doing?"

Regulus shrugs his shoulder again and brushes his finger along the curve of James' eye-
socket, right below his temple, wiggling the arm of his glasses with a quiet chuckle. "I'm only
touching you. Is it bothering you?"

"No," James tells him. "May I ask why?"

"You may," Regulus allows graciously, and James snorts. It makes Regulus grin as he drags
his finger further down James' cheek, slow and soft like he's touching something precious. He
is. Oh, he really is.

James' cheek twitches as he smiles. "Alright, then. Why?"

"I like it. You're beautiful," Regulus whispers.

"Oh." James immediately breaks out into a bashful smile, his eyelashes fluttering. "In that
case, carry on."

"I was going to," Regulus admits, turning his hand a little bit so he can gently prop his
pointer and middle finger on James' jaw, the very tips resting against it. He proceeds to walk
those two fingers along that jaw like they're legs, taking one slow step right after another. The
display delights him.

"You look so pleased with yourself," James notes, releasing a soft sigh. "You're really very
adorable, did you know?"

Regulus starts walking his fingers back. "Because I'm high?"

"Well, that too, but also just in general," James says.

"Have you ever been high before?"

"Once or twice. It makes me sleepy, though. Relaxes me so much that I usually just drift right
off like a baby."

"I'm not sleepy," Regulus murmurs, just as his fingers halt near James' chin, under his mouth.
Regulus feels like an idiot for lying here all this time without looking at James' mouth, and he
more than makes up for that now.

James doesn't say anything, but that could be because Regulus has twisted his hand so could
tap his fingers against James' lips. He outlines the outside of James' mouth, circling it, even
tugging it a bit at the corners when it threatens to widen into a smile. The incoming smile
flickers at the edges, so Regulus gives up and just traces one finger along James' bottom lip.
It's a lovely bottom lip. James' smile makes a graceful retreat.

"Regulus," James mumbles, his mouth moving underneath Regulus' fingers as he exhales a
soft, hot puff of air.
Suddenly, touching it with his fingers is not enough. It's not even close to being enough.
Regulus tips forward as he drops his hand to replace his fingers with own lips, and it's like
reaching enlightenment. He learns so much more this way, feeling the shape of James' mouth
like an everlasting memory he can't ever rip from his brain, nor does he want to.

James' lips part beneath Regulus' own, and he inhales sharply the moment Regulus cants his
head for a better angle, determined to taste him. It all seems so—it's just heightened in a way
that Regulus can't really fathom right now, every single shift of tongue and teeth and touch.
He can feel it all reverberating through him, leaving him breathless from so much sensation,
all of which is really, really fucking good.

It's all so good, and Regulus can't get enough of it. He's lightheaded from it, but he keeps
pressing in closer and kissing James deeper like that will replenish his oxygen. Everything is
light and fuzzy and warm, making him feel like he's floating; it seems like he floats in closer
to James, but maybe that's just him shifting over more and more.

There really isn't any way to get any closer without Regulus lifting his leg and hooking his
bent knee over James' hip, which is precisely why he does it. This allows him to slip his arm
around James' shoulders, hand sliding into his hair. He can feel James' hand on his side
drifting over skin where his jumper has bunched up, James' fingernails lightly scraping over
his hip down to the small of his back. The contact makes Regulus break out into
goosebumps.

It's all so loud, felt so clearly—James' hair as he runs his fingers through it, James' warm
hand on his skin before it lifts away to settle on the outside of his thigh where his leg is
propped up, James' grip tightening in increments for every second the kiss deepens. And then
Regulus is moaning because he can't help it. Everything feels so good wherever they're
touching, his whole body lit up, on fire, so many different sensations crashing into each other
that he can't hold it in, can't stop himself. The noise snaps James out of it.

"Oh," James chokes out as he abruptly breaks away, breathing hard, "you're dangerous."

"What?" Regulus whispers, feeling dazed. "James?"

"That's—that's enough now," James says, strangled.

"No," Regulus denies immediately.

James clears his throat. "I—obviously I'd love to do whatever you want, Reg, but you're
really quite blitzed at the moment."

"So?"

"So...you can't really be sure you want—"

"I want," Regulus cuts in, sliding his hand down to grip James' chin and turn his head so he
can kiss him again.

"Mm, love," James mumbles against his mouth, hand lifting to circle his fingers around
Regulus' wrist. He pulls away. "I'm sure you believe that, but I can't be sure it's true. In any
case, I don't want to—well, obviously I want to do anything and everything with you, but
preferably when you're not off your head, yeah? I love you, though, if that helps."

Regulus makes a quiet sound of dissatisfaction. "Can't we just snog? We've snogged before,
haven't we? Many, many times. All enjoyable, so why don't we just do that? Nothing
nefarious. It'll be completely innocent."

"Are you bargaining with me right now?"

"Is it working?"

"Saying no to you is quite honestly the most difficult challenge I've ever faced, and it's not
even one I want to win."
"So don't say no. I told you, it'll be—light snogging. It just feels really nice. Everything feels
so nice, James, and I like it."

"Regulus," James says, strained.

"Please?" Regulus replies, not entirely sure if this will work but willing to give it a try
nonetheless.

James muffles a groan and mutters, "Oh, don't do that. I'm trying to be respectful, love."

"It's just snogging," Regulus protests petulantly.

"Aren't you tired?" James asks weakly. "You must be sleepy."

Regulus shifts forward to hook his leg more firmly around James' hip, dragging him close.
"I'm very awake."

"That is not just snogging," James whispers.

"Alright, so I lied. I do that sometimes," Regulus admits.

James closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then slowly releases it. When he opens his eyes,
he reaches up to cup Regulus' cheek and holds his gaze. "No."

"No?" Regulus asks a bit miserably.

"No," James confirms apologetically.

"That's the second time you've rejected me," Regulus informs him, eyes drifting shut as
James' thumb strokes his cheek.

"For honorable reasons, both times. And, you know, you can wake up with a clear head and
be angry about it tomorrow, but I'd rather you be angry that it didn't happen than be upset that
it did," James tells him.

Regulus hums and opens his eyes. "You're a good person, James. It's annoying."

"I'm...sorry?" James says, not sounding entirely sure.

"Don't be. I only love you more for it," Regulus murmurs, and James' entire face lights up
immediately. He looks so pleased.

"I love you even when you're being mean and telling lies. What does that say about me, do
you think?"

"Mm, I'm not sure. You're so strange."

James sputters out a laugh and leans back a little to gaze at him in disbelief. "I'm strange?
You're the most bizarre person I've ever known, I'll have you know."

"Oh, am I?" Regulus retorts, feeling absurdly like he might start laughing again. "No one
thinks that way but you, you know. I'm genuinely a very boring person."

"You're absolutely and unequivocally not. Fascinating, that's what you are. Captivating. You
leave me utterly riveted. I'll never tire of you," James announces, earnest about it.

"You're making up for the no shagging bit," Regulus says.

"Well, I'll just carry on, shall I?" James teases. "Why don't I continue telling you all the ways
I've been in love with you for so long now? It'll be like your little bedtime story."

Regulus snorts. "Oh, sure. Go on, then."

"What would you like to know?" James prompts.

"The Fizzing Whizzbees you got me for my birthday. They're my favorite. How did you
know?"

"I asked Sirius."

"Of course you did." Regulus rolls his eyes. "And of course he would tell you. Oh, you're
both awful."

"Well, it was in the name of love, though I didn't know it at the time. How I didn't know still
baffles even me, but…" James shakes his head. "Well, it only gets worse, I'm afraid. Because,
after that, I found you yet again at the astronomy tower, and you… I remember that I was
grinning from just looking at you. I think I stood under my cloak for five minutes, utterly
distracted from the mere sight of you."

Regulus squints at him. "Why?"

"Why do you like to look at the stars?"

"They're pretty and they bring me comfort."

"Well, there you have it." James raises his eyebrows at him, shrugging one shoulder casually.
"You're pretty and you bring me comfort. I thought of looking at you as stargazing."
"You didn't," Regulus denies instantly, wrinkling his nose, staring at him in disbelief. "Tell
me you didn't actually—"

"I did! I even made the comment that I get you year round. I was being playful, but I...wasn't
actually joking," James confesses with a muffled laugh. "That's awfully romantic, isn't it, for
someone who apparently didn't fancy you?"

"That's ridiculous. You're ridiculous," Regulus says.

"Yes, I know. What else?"

"The date. The fake one. Not Valentine's Day. "

James snorts. "Didn't bloody feel like a fake date. I was fucking nervous, can you believe
that? I barely slept at all the night before, so that's why I showed up so early, and I was so…
jittery. Nervous. Chocolate frogs jumping in my stomach. You want to know what excuse I
gave myself for why that was?"

"I can tell by your tone that it's silly."

"It is, yeah. See, I thought I was so nervous because I wanted to make it a good day for you.
Not because I was trying to impress you, no, of course not. Not because I wanted to be on a
date with you, no, never. Merlin help me."

"Oh, don't be mean to yourself," Regulus tells him, lips curling up. "That's sort of my thing."

"Well, in this case, it's certainly deserved." James shakes his head, scoffing. "I thought that I
was just putting too much pressure on myself, but it wasn't even about that. I just really,
really wanted you to like me."

Regulus is startled by this. "You seemed calm."

"I wasn't," James declares wryly. "I mean, I was having a lovely time getting to be with you,
and that helped with the nerves. I was so pleased to laugh and talk with you, but I kept
feeling… Well. Do you—do you remember outside Scrivenshaft's?"

"Oh, I remember," Regulus mutters, giving him a flat look.

James bites his lip. "I don't know what came over me. It's like the whole world just...shrunk
down, and I couldn't think, and I didn't even know what I was doing, but nothing was as
important as kissing you at that moment."

"What excuse did you give yourself for that?"

"Method acting?"

"You—" Regulus stares at him. "Method acting? Are you taking the piss? Method acting,
James?"

"I know, I know," James groans, sinking closer in what seems to be pure mortification,
resting his forehead against Regulus'. "The worst part is, I wasn't even using it as an excuse,
really. I was practically patting myself on the back. Well done, James, you're doing brilliant
in your role. Oh, that's awful. I was so stupid. That's just so, so fucking stupid."

"I was suffering, and you were strutting about feeling accomplished," Regulus complains.
"Of course. What else?"

"Were you suffering?" James asks miserably, lifting his head to gaze at him. "You—I mean, I
know I was the one who started it later, but it was you who pulled me into the kiss."

"It was worth it," Regulus mutters, looking away again. He gently drags his thumb over
James' jaw. "Everything with you was always worth it."
"Oh," James says softly, a little breathless, and he gets that dazed, delighted look on his face
again. His eyes are practically gleaming. "Everything with you is always worth it to me, too.
What else do you want to know, Regulus?"

"Lily."

"Who's Lily?"

"James," Regulus says, laughing as he reaches up to cover James' mouth, gently pushing his
face away.

Chuckling, James nuzzles in closer again, kissing his palm as he rests his head on his pillow.
"Mm, what about her?"

"If—if she came to you now…" Regulus trails off, not entirely sure how to find the words
he's looking for.

"Regulus," James says gently, like he already knows, "I wouldn't. No. Wherever that sentence
was going, the answer is no. I don't want her as anything other than a friend."

"Now," Regulus mumbles, swallowing. "And I believe that. I believe you, James. Not now,
but what about before? When she was talking to you, right before she explained about Mary,
I thought she was going to confess feelings for you."

"She wouldn't," James replies simply. "That's not her. She wouldn't hurt you or me in that
way, and we were dating."

"No, I know she thought we were, but if she did have feelings, and maybe she was just—
what if she decided to tell you because she needed to get them out? Not in a malicious way.
I'm not insulting her. Just...hypothetically."
"Regulus, I'm telling you, she wouldn't. Lily isn't—"

"James," Regulus rasps, "please just—just go with it, yeah? Let's say, hypothetically, she did
confess her feelings right then. Alright, she wouldn't, sure, but let's say that she did…"

"What?" James prompts.

Regulus swallows. "What would you have done?"

"I—" James blinks, his mouth hanging open, and Regulus holds his breath, feeling oddly
lightheaded. James opens and closes his mouth, looking stricken. "I would have panicked, I
think. It—it would have been bad for me. Really bad."

"What?" Regulus asks, startled by this.

James' face softens. "I'm not teasing when I say I had feelings for you, even then. Obviously
she wouldn't have, but if that happened, it would have put me in an awful position. I would
have to face my feelings for you then, wouldn't I? And I didn't know then how you felt for
me, so I would have been as much of a mess as I was with what actually happened, but I
would have also felt horrible about Lily as well."

"So, you're saying, even then, even if she came to you and asked to have you, you were
already mine?" Regulus whispers.

"I was," James assures him, his voice soft. "I am."

"But—"

"What? What is it?"

"The entire time, it was all for her. You say you were in love with me, but how is that the case
when you were thinking about her?" Regulus asks, a lump in his throat. His stomach tangles
itself into unhappy knots for the very first time since he discovered the wonders of a spliff.
He doesn't like it. Maybe he shouldn't have asked this; he might not like the answer, and he
learned from a young age to not ask questions he wasn't prepared to hear the cold, cruel
answers to.

"Oh," James says. "Well, I wasn't."

Regulus blinks, the knots in his stomach suddenly motionless out of pure confusion. "What
do you mean you weren't?"

"I mean...I wasn't," James clarifies bluntly. "I hardly ever even thought about Lily, really,
outside of just day-to-day being her friend sort of thing. I'd have a stray thought here and
there, I suppose, like a little reminder or a habit, just things I'd gotten used to thinking for
years and never really stopped to put much weight to after a while, but that was it. You
brought her up more than I did, actually."

"What?" Regulus' voice is flat. "That's impossible."

"Name one time I brought up Lily and my supposed feelings for her to you first after we
started dating," James demands, raising his eyebrows in challenge. "Just one time that I
mentioned her without you mentioning her first. Go on."

"I—" Regulus opens and closes his mouth, casting his mind back, and...he can't think of one
time. Every conversation he and James have ever had about Lily, following their agreement
to fake date, Regulus brought her up first. He told James Lily was watching them on their
Hogsmeade date; he mentioned to James that Lily couldn't take her eyes off him the night of
the party; he brought up the fact that James should have taken Lily to the meadow on
Valentine's Day. It was always him.

James makes a noise of satisfaction. "You can't, can you?"

"You mean to tell me that you came up with that ridiculous plan for Lily, then didn't even try
to execute it for Lily? James…" Regulus blinks rapidly. "That's—then what was the point?"

"Well, I didn't know it at the time," James muses, "but the whole point was you. And, well,
me. I have some...issues, as it turns out. You know of them."

Regulus' face softens. "I do."

"Sorry," James offers, grimacing. "Not exactly what you signed up for, I know, but—"

"Don't do that. Don't ever say that to me," Regulus cuts in sharply, and James falls silent. It
takes a moment for him to take the edge out of his tone, because he knows, realistically, that
this is another issue James has, unknowingly or not. "If I needed perfection to fall in love, I
would be alone my whole life. No one is, not even you, and I don't require you to be. I don't
need you to be anything other than who you are, James, the worst and best of you, and my
feelings won't change. Don't try to be enough for me; you're enough when you breathe."

"Right," James whispers. "I think I'm about to cry."

"Oh, you lovely fool," Regulus says softly, scooting closer to draw James into him by the
back of his neck, letting James press his face into his shoulder. He sags against him with a
quiet sigh, and Regulus gently scratches at the hair on the nape of his neck. "I understand,
you know. I have my issues as well. I have...many of them. I think you know some, or most."

"I think you're perfect," James mumbles, his arm sliding around Regulus' waist as he burrows
in closer, but he lifts his head to look at Regulus with that sincerity of his.

"What did I just say? No one is, and I'm certainly not."

"You come closest, then. You're perfect to me. For me."

Regulus stares at him for a long moment, but James is as sincere as he ever is. They're still
just lazily lying together, Regulus' leg thrown over him (it really is a comfortable position),
their faces right across from each other, and it makes it so very easy to just—lean in and kiss
him again.

It's a soft kiss. Truly innocent. Perhaps that's why James allows it, because it's really just a bit
of light snogging, and Regulus can't find the words to explain what James means to him,
especially what he just said. He can kiss him, though. He can cradle his cheek and kiss him
so, so sweetly. He presses it into James' mouth over and over. I love you, I love you, I love
you. Regulus hopes it sticks to his every smile like honey.

"Mm," Regulus hums in approval when they pull away, smiling at each other. He shifts closer
and wraps his arms around James' head, insistently pulling him in. "Let's sleep now."

"Alright, alright, just—hold on, let me get my—" James chokes out a laugh from where
Regulus has smooshed his face against his chest. He clicks his tongue in annoyance when
James pulls back. "My glasses, love. Let me put them aside, yeah?"

They laugh a little ridiculously at each other as James swivels to place his glasses outside the
curtains on his stand, nearly falling off the bed to do so. Regulus buries his face in James' hair
and holds him up, chuckling breathlessly, and James finally turns and sinks back into him a
few moments later.

"Sleep now," Regulus whispers through laughter, swiping a hand down James' face gently
before cupping the back of his head and pushing him back against his chest.

James chuckles against him, muffled, but he settles in with an arm over his waist and a smile
against his skin. "Goodnight, Regulus. I love you."

Regulus just hums and smacks a kiss to the top of his head, really rather pleased with himself
as he closes his eyes and smiles quietly where no one can see.

He's asleep before his smile ever fades.

Chapter End Notes

regulus' friends laughing at him. they're menaces, i love them 😭😭😭

melanie and gio, my beloveds <3

clive, my beloved <3 he really said: how can i show regulus my gratitude? ah yes, i
know, im a hufflePUFF, and the poor bloke should laugh more!

regulus giving sirius the zippo. im so soft about them being good brothers. them getting
high and bonding over being family outcasts!!! we love to see it <3

regulus being high and just finding everything absolutely hilarious. i adore him. he
really tried to seduce james right then and there, and james was like: we must stay
focused, lord have mercy, we must stay focused brothers 😭😭😭 the talk about lily was
necessary, though. regulus needed that, to be honest. and james needed to hear regulus
telling him that he's enough.

say goodbye to regulus POV, because we won't see it again for a while. i would say that
this is, like... the calm after the storm of the last few chapters, just kind of relaxing.
nothing insane happens, nothing too sad or too soppy. it's sort of MEANT to be just,
casual. a bit of a breather, really. for some people, that will be nice. for others, it'll feel
suspicious. and for some, i imagine it will seem boring, which is fair. don't worry, i have
a few surprises ahead, but likely not in the way you expect. just trust me <3

as always, thank you all for the lovely feedback and support.
 ACT FIVE: Part Three
Chapter Notes

mild warnings for this chapter: fluff, so much soppy fluff that will make your teeth ache,
and also a bit of a fight, a little domestic if you will, but it is resolved, and brief
references to when regulus drowned.

enjoy 🥰
See the end of the chapter for more notes

When James was very young and his parents were still tucking him into bed, he would
pretend to sleep, then sneak out of his room to sit on the stairs and watch his parents through
the rails. He wasn't sure why, really, other than the fact that he would hope to catch them
dancing slowly in the middle of the room, because he caught them doing that often.

Most of the time, though, he would just see his dad reading a book or making notes for his
potions, distracted in his doings, and there his mum would be—watching. Just quietly
watching, and maybe it was the mystery of it that kept James sneaking out, because he never
understood what she was looking for.

He gets it now.

There's something to looking at someone just to look, just to see them, just to gaze upon them
at your leisure. James understands that now as he sprawls out on the ground and runs his eyes
over Regulus' face. He could do this for hours in complete silence and never get enough, and
be satisfied with every bit of it. He remembers that his mum would look at his dad and never
need him to look back, but when he did, she would smile. Every time, she smiled.

James gets that, too. The moment Regulus' gaze flicks up to catch him staring, James feels
his mouth tug up at the corners. He can't explain what it is, beyond the simple pleasure of
someone else's existence. James is so delighted that Regulus exists, and there's something
special about that.
"What?" Regulus murmurs.

"Nothing," James replies quietly. "I'm just looking at you."

"Why are you looking at me?" Regulus doesn't blink, holding his gaze, but he's peering up
through his eyelashes like he finds it difficult to look at James unhindered.

James wonders at the difference in them. In himself, who can't look away from Regulus now,
when he couldn't see everything right in front of him before. In Regulus, who can barely meet
his eyes, when he's usually so keen to observe.

"You're beautiful," James tells him. "It's more than that, though. It's also that seeing you
makes me happy."

Regulus looks away, looks back down to his book, quiet. He doesn't say anything, which is
fine. James goes back to simply looking at him, content to do that for now. Forever,
hopefully.

The book has been on the same page for nearly twenty minutes. James is very carefully not
mentioning it, pretending not to notice. He feels very fortunate to be here at all.

It's quiet outside. A slow weekend day wrapping warm around them, even out here on the
outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. They're right at the line of the trees, where they're thin and
open to the grounds. Regulus is leaning against one while James lays over on his propped
elbow and gazes at him. It's a nice bit of solitude away from everyone else, but they're still
able to see the castle, not really flirting with danger.

Things are...delicate between them, at the moment. Regulus won't touch him, and James
knows without even having to ask that Regulus doesn't want to be touched right now. There's
a shift that feels fragile, like it could shatter if they're too rough with it, James specifically.
He's not the most tedious person, a bit like a dragon in a figurine shop, honestly, but he
knows how to be tender. He knows how to cradle things that need to be held in loving hands;
it feels like this is what he was meant for.
Regulus is, from what James can tell, rather embarrassed about how he acted after having not
one, but two spliffs. He'd slept for a solid fourteen hours, completely knackered, then woke
up with the sort of disorientation and confusion that comes from sleeping so hard for so long.
Upon coming to grips with all that happened, he turned so red that James couldn't stop
himself from laughing, and Regulus had been so mortified that he hasn't quite been able to
hold James' gaze since. It doesn't help that Sirius has spent the last two days constantly
teasing Regulus for being a little rebel.

Peter and Remus have also lightly taken the piss, and James doesn't doubt that Dorcas,
Pandora, Evan, and Barty have been as well if Regulus went complaining to them about it.

Personally, James finds it adorable. Was he expecting Regulus to show up high the day after
they agreed to date again? No, not at all. It was fine, though. Regulus is mature enough to
make his own decisions, and having a spliff or two isn't the basis for evil, really, so James just
enjoyed getting to see him laugh and be silly. Regulus, who lives by small smiles and
whispered laughter most of the time, is utterly betrayed by his own actions whilst under the
influence. That's adorable, too.

"Regulus," James murmurs.

"No," Regulus says.

James clicks his tongue and sits up. "You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"I hardly need to, do I? I could hear in your tone that it would be ridiculous, so I am
preemptively telling you no."

"It may be a little ridiculous, but I think you'll love it."

Regulus hums and idly turns a page, even though James knows for a fact that he hasn't read
one word. "Is that so?"
"Hear me out before you refuse, yeah?" Jame props his elbows on his knees and leans in, lips
twitching. "So, first, we'd have to go into the Forbidden Forest—"

"No," Regulus cuts in.

"What did I just say?"

"I try not to listen to the things you say."

"Lies." James grins when Regulus rolls his eyes a little. "Well, if you'd listen, you'd realize
that I have a brilliant plan."

"Oh, yes, you and your brilliant plans," Regulus says dryly.

James purses his lips. "You know what? Sure. I'll just go in by myself, and if you wish to join
me, then you will."

With that, James hops to his feet and proceeds to stroll right into the forest without looking
back. Behind him, there's a long beat of silence, then Regulus calls his name in reproach.
James doesn't respond, lips curling up as he continues on. At first, there's nothing, more
nothing, even more nothing—and then, a long string of cursing and steps following him.

They're not very far from the meadow, though it's not a straight path there; they have to walk
along the line of the forest for a bit before they can turn and head in deeper. James knows the
forest well enough that he's confident in where he's going, but he nonetheless takes it slow so
that Regulus can catch up to him. When he does, he is not pleased.

"You fucking bafoon," Regulus hisses, his book tucked under one arm and his wand out while
his free hand reaches over to clamp down on James' arm. "You can't just go gallivanting
about in the Forbidden Forest, James."
"Oh, you'd be surprised," James mutters, stifling a laugh, and Regulus glares at him. "It's not
even night this time."

"Still dark," Regulus grumbles, darting his gaze around. In his defense, this is true. It's always
dark in the forest, especially the deeper you go in.

"Are you scared of the dark, Reg?" James teases.

Regulus digs his fingers into James' arm. "No."

"It's alright," James says lightly, "I'll protect you."

"I can protect myself, thank you," Regulus replies shortly, eyes narrowed. "What is your
fascination with this place anyway? This is the second time you've made me come in here."

"Well, I didn't make you."

"Potter, I swear to Merlin—"

James swallows a laugh. "Oh, so it's Potter now?" Regulus just scowls at him, and he can't
swallow his laugh this time. He shakes his head fondly. "Ease your mind, yeah? We're just
going to the meadow again, is all. We'll be perfectly safe. It's a very safe part of the forest,
trust me."

"Is it?" Regulus purses his lips, looking at him closely, studying his face. "And you sound so
sure about this...why? How often do you come in here?"

"Often," is all James says, smiling sweetly.

"James, stop," Regulus groans. "I genuinely do not know how you've survived this long. Not
only have you had my brother to undoubtedly encourage you into further stupidity since you
were eleven, but you lack the critical skills to properly assess when doing something reckless
might actually get you killed. There has to be some self-preservation in you somewhere."

"Haven't found it yet," James tells him cheerfully, laughing when Regulus blows out a deep,
exasperated sigh. This is sincerely such an entertaining moment in James' life; he wants to
bottle it up and keep it forever. "And, I will have you know, I've done my fair share of
dragging Sirius into further chaos, actually. He can't take all the credit for our shared
genius."

"I assure you, Sirius gets no credit for any genius," Regulus tells him, and James gives him a
mildly scolding look. This doesn't do very much. Regulus is unfazed by it entirely.

"Be nice," James needles. Regulus arches an eyebrow, and James bites back a laugh. "Alright,
well, if you can't say something nice, then say nothing at all."

Regulus raises both eyebrows this time. "Did you just tell me to shut up and never speak
again?"

"I—what? No?"

"You did."

"I did not, you dramatic git," James says, choking out a laugh as he reaches out and hooks
two fingers in Regulus' pocket to gently tug him deeper into the forest now that they're nearer
to the meadow. "You are capable of saying nice things."

"It takes a lot out of me, requires tremendous effort, and never quite feels right," Regulus
replies, eyes soft with amusement.
"Oh, does it?"

"Truly."

James shakes his head, helplessly fond, and he pulls his fingers free from Regulus' pocket to
raise his arm and fumble for his hand. Once he finds it, he tangles their fingers together,
trying to remember not to swing their hands. One, it would make Regulus drop his book
under his arm, and two, Regulus always inevitably stops him anyway.

Regulus is quiet as they continue on. Every time James glances back, he's watching their
surroundings keenly, eyes clear and sharp. James finds this both endearing and attractive, for
some reason, so he keeps looking more than entirely necessary.

Once they reach the meadow, Regulus seems to relax. It really is a calming part of the forest,
and the lanterns from the last time they were out here are still on the ground. James pulls
away to light one half of the circle with his wand while Regulus handles the rest without even
needing to be asked.

"Alright," James muses, "let me call my forest friends."

"Your forest friends," Regulus repeats with a quiet snort.

James throws him a look, then swings his wand gently through the air, shooting off rapid-fire
streaks of colorful light that flashes and darts up into the trees. The wood nymphs usually
stay within this area, and if he'll charm tree limbs to swoop down, they'll poke out and slide
down to come see him. The light just lets them know not to panic when their home starts
shifting, because he's sure that's a bit worrying.

The wood nymphs in the Forbidden Forest do not speak English—or sing in English—but
they hardly need to. They always know what he wants, intuitive enough to understand that
he'd like them to sing when he charms little perches for them to sit on. He knows what they
want when they make gestures at him, understanding very well that they're not doing this for
free, no matter how much they enjoy it. James can respect that, and does. He transfigures
something shiny for each of them that came down (all six), and they start chattering at him
excitedly while he chuckles, then nudge each other and get into position. He doesn't know
what they're singing about, but they have lovely little voices, truly.

"There we are," James declares, delighted.

"You're paying to have us serenaded again?" Regulus asks, raising his eyebrows at him.
"That's your brilliant plan? Just using what you did last time, but for real this time?"

James hums, walking towards him with a smile. "It was real then, too, but that's not my
brilliant plan. There's something we didn't do before."

"What's that?" Regulus murmurs, swallowing thickly as James comes to a halt in front of
him. James can see his pupils grow large, expanding rapidly, and he has a pretty good idea of
what Regulus is thinking about that they didn't do last time. He's a little off the mark, but
James appreciates his optimism.

"Dance, Regulus. I'm talking about dancing," James says, trying so very hard not to grin, then
being unable to stop himself when Regulus' face proceeds to turn red.

Coughing, Regulus turns his head and squints off into the distance like he can just ignore his
own blush. "Oh. Right. Dancing." He pauses, then blinks. "Wait. Dancing?"

"Yes," James confirms, his voice warm. He reaches out to gingerly slip his hand around
Regulus' waist, settling on his lower back as he pulls them close together, then uses his free
hand to catch Regulus' palm down by his side, lifting it up and holding it in a proper stance.
Regulus blinks at him, but his other hand does come up to rest along James' shoulder, like a
reflexive motion. "I've always thought dancing with someone you love is the height of
romance."

"You would," Regulus says, huffing out a quiet laugh.

James holds his gaze. "Is this okay?"

"Yes, James," Regulus answers softly. His fingers curl down, holding onto James' hand, and
his gaze is warm. "It's okay."

"My parents do this a lot," James whispers as he takes a step back and tugs Regulus with him,
and Regulus comes; he flows with every step and shift, easily being led, never faltering. He
looks calm, steady, competent like he's been dancing his whole life and could do it in his
sleep. "I'm not sure if you ever saw them over the summer. It's sort of something they do just
for themselves, I think. I've caught them before, thought it was sweet, but it's like their little
secret."

"I saw the photo of them dancing in your dorm."

"That's the only one there is. I had to beg them to let me take it. They thought it was a bit
silly, but I've always loved how they love each other, I suppose."

"Have you?"

"Mhm. It's very… I'm not sure how to explain it. They have the sort of love that makes one
believe in love, do you know what I mean? I think they turned me into the romantic I am
today."

"I didn't believe in love before you," Regulus says softly, and James feels his heart trip in his
chest, his breath hitching. He nearly stumbles in the middle of pulling them into a spin, but
Regulus effortlessly (and seemingly without thought) tugs him through it by his shoulder.

"Oh," James breathes out, stunned. "Really?"

Regulus hums. "Really. I didn't think—I mean, it's not as if I was ever exposed to it, honestly.
If my parents loved each other, they made sure no one knew about it. It's also just that I saw
too much wrong with this world to think that love could ever truly exist in it the way people
make it seem. I saw love as something fragile and restricting, or I didn't see it at all. Frankly,
I thought it was a bit made up. Just something that people were delusional about."
"And now?" James murmurs, searching his face, his hand flexing against Regulus' back to
warn him for the upcoming turn he's about to pull them into.

"Well, either you've made me delusional, or I was wrong. Seeing as I'm never wrong, I'm
assuming that the family madness did, in fact, get me," Regulus says solemnly.

James busts out laughing, drawing them to a halt as it steals over his body and takes him
hostage, leaving him shaking and leaning forward into Regulus as he completely loses it. To
him, Regulus is one of the funniest people he's ever met, and for someone who loves to
laugh, this means something special. He can only pull his arm from around Regulus' waist to
lift it and cup the curve of his neck as he rests their foreheads together, their other hands still
clasped.

Regulus adjusts as the laughter fades, a tiny smile curving his mouth as he slips his arm from
James' shoulder to wrap it around his waist, hand resting firmly against the small of James'
back. He yanks them closer together until James' laughter cuts off entirely, breath hitching,
and then James doesn't get to catch his breath at all before Regulus is sweeping them off into
elegant circles.

"Bloody hell," James blurts out. He's surprised, but Regulus is doing the leading with
confidence, making it almost effortless to follow him. "You know how to dance."

"Yes," Regulus agrees simply. "We took ballroom lessons growing up, as is tradition for the
purest of the pure." He rolls his eyes a little, even as he seamlessly guides them into a circle
that leaves James dazed. "I'm not really sure why. It was just common practice when balls
were—well, more common than they are now. But you know how they are about their
precious fucking traditions. Sirius can dance, too, you know. He was taught as well, and he
was actually really good at it."

"I've seen him dance, but not like—this," James admits, relaxing as he lets Regulus pull them
all around the meadow, the world a spinning blur around them, leaving them in their own
world that only consists of one another. "You're really good at it. Do you like it?"
"It's fine," Regulus says. "You do, though. The height of romance, I believe you said.
Romantic enough for you?"

"Reg, I'm dangerously close to swooning," James tells him.

"Mm, are you?" Regulus slows them down a bit, his face soft, every single thing about him
lovely and enthralling. "If I'm honest, I never really saw the appeal of dancing. Didn't much
like being touched by others or being so close to someone else, but when it's you... I think,
with you, that's my favorite part."

James feels his heart twirl in his chest, and he bites down on his lip as he snatches his gaze to
Regulus' mouth. Oh, fucking hell, his mouth. James knows it well, how it moves, the way it
shapes around the words he's saying, refined and sharp, always speaking clear and concise,
even when saying something mean. He has such a lovely mouth, one capable of saying the
most incredibly insane, cruel things, or the sweetest.

He doesn't realize he's swaying in to try and kiss Regulus until his target turns away, out of
range. It leaves his forehead against Regulus' temple and his nose against Regulus' cheek, his
lips tingling from the mere memory of so many moments where Regulus has occupied them
with his own. He closes his eyes and basks in that, in those memories, content with them until
Regulus will allow him to experience it in real time once more. Sometimes, Regulus just isn't
going to; sometimes, Regulus is going to turn away for reasons that James doesn't know and
doesn't need to know. James respects them.

A tiny kiss on the cheek is allowed, at least, from the way Regulus tilts his face to the side in
offering. James takes it happily, pressing a quick kiss there, then another, then one more until
Regulus huffs a laugh and leans out of range.

They have slowed down to practically swaying in one spot, and James' arm is getting tired, so
he gives up the whole proper thing and just slides both arms around Regulus' shoulders. He
closes his eyes with a hum and rests his cheek against Regulus' hair, feeling Regulus' arms
wrap around his back, holding him close. The wood nymphs soften their song to something
sweeter to match, and together, James and Regulus sway.

"I love you," James whispers.

"You've gone and made me delusional, James, so the feeling is very mutual," Regulus replies,
equally quiet.

"I love you," James says again, just to say it, just because he wants Regulus to know. It's so
very true.

Regulus laughs softly, and this time, he says it back. A gentle, just-for-them, "And I love
you."

"I love you," James repeats once more, lips curling up when Regulus laughs yet again and
pulls him closer, pressing a small kiss to his exposed collarbone.

"You've mentioned."

"It bears repeating."

"Does it?"

"Mhm. I want to say it so many times that you snap at me that you already know, so shut up
and stop bothering you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I—"

"James," Regulus cuts in.

"Yeah?" James asks, grinning.

"I'll never tire of hearing that," Regulus murmurs.

James melts a bit and nuzzles at Regulus' hair with his cheek, tightening his arms around him.
"Oh, well, in that case, I'll be sure to say it for the rest of our lives."

He plans to do just that, and this plan—more so than any other plan he's ever formed—is his
most brilliant.

The thing about being madly, deeply in love with someone is that—well, it can get a little
intense at times. The person you love can soften you like no other, as well as infuriate you in
ways no one else could ever achieve. James is learning this.

On Remus' birthday, James and Regulus get into their first proper row. Well, not really their
first argument, but it is since they decided to date again. They've bickered lightly, sure, and
Regulus is always prone to being a little mean, but this is different. This is heated.

James has been running around with Sirius and Peter to prank Remus all day (as is tradition),
much to his amusement. He's resigned to it, after all these years, and he knows he gets to
make up for it on James' birthday later in the month where he will no doubt return the favor.
There's also party planning (yet another tradition), which Lily, Mary, and Marlene have been
helping with. So, all-in-all, James hasn't gotten to see Regulus very much.

That means he's very excited when, later that evening, Regulus shows up with his whole
entourage to come join in on celebrating Remus' birthday. James has admittedly been waiting
outside the portrait, so he's there when everyone arrives. He's immediately delighted, of
course, and gives the password to let Evan, Barty, Pandora, and Dorcas inside.

Regulus, however, is stopped by James' hand on his arm. He promptly whisks him off to a
quiet corner so he can hug him, and kiss him all over his face, and coo sweet words just so
Regulus will be a little mean to him. It's fine to start, nothing they haven't been doing since
they officially started dating again, and they're both happy about the whole thing. Laughing
and whispering to each other, James playing with his hair, Regulus rolling his eyes and
struggling to hide a smile.
And then it promptly goes to shit. It starts, as most things do, with one innocent comment.
Just one.

Just James saying, "Merlin, I can't believe I spent any time not aware of how in love with you
I am. I was being so stupid."

"Were you?" Regulus asks, lips twitching.

"Mhm. I was actually having a bit of a crisis about it," James informs him with a nod,
chuckling. "It was starting to get messy. Not knowing, I mean. I started—well, my brain
started reminding me that you didn't actually want me even before it would acknowledge why
that was so upsetting."

"Your brain is you, James."

"No, not at all. I'm so much kinder than my brain."

Regulus hums curiously. "So, it upset you, then? The thought that I didn't want you, I mean."

"It was frustrating," James grumbles, grimacing. "It genuinely infuriated me, partially just
because I didn't understand—or, I wouldn't let myself understand why it was bothering me so
much. I didn't like it. I really didn't."

"What do you mean you wouldn't let yourself?" Regulus asks.

James clears his throat. "Well, that's just the thing. I knew. I did know, but I was...repressing
it, really. That's why I asked you if we could be friends when you broke up with me."

"Oh, yes, that," Regulus says sharply, eyes narrowing.

"Don't you even try it," James retorts, just as sharp. "You broke up with me. I didn't make you
do that."

Regulus stares at him incredulously. "It was coming! That was literally the next thing to
happen after your talk with Lily."

"It really wasn't," James grits out, because apparently he has some lingering frustration and
hurt about it. "If you must know, it never even crossed my fucking mind."

"So, we were just going to carry on fake dating, then?" Regulus snaps, a different kind of
flush on his face, an angry one.

"Yes!" James bursts out. "I would have done it forever, because it wasn't fake to me, don't you
get that? I was begging you to stay, and you left. You just—walked away. You broke my
fucking heart, Regulus. Not Lily. You."

"You didn't come after me. You let me go," Regulus replies harshly. "All that chasing, and
what? You suddenly couldn't move?"

"Yes!" James repeats, just as loud and incredulous. "I sat down right there and cried, you
prick! And—and what was I going to do? Chase after you when you told me right to my face
that it was over and you didn't believe me? I told you I wanted you, I said I loved you, and
you said you didn't believe me at all. What was I to do with that?!"

"Can you not see how I had every right? I couldn't be your friend; I can't be your friend.
That's not enough for me, especially when I know what it's like to be more. After you spent
months not wanting me—"

"I didn't! I spent months wanting—"

"Well, you didn't fucking inform me of that, did you? And how was I supposed to know? You
never—"
"Oh, don't start in with that. We've had this sodding talk before. I very much did do things
that made it obvious the entire time, and even if I didn't, you couldn't take me at my fucking
word the moment I told you?"

"I thought you said you understood why I didn't," Regulus snaps, shoving away from the wall
to step back and glare at him. "You know it has to do with me, yeah, and you should know
you're just as much to blame. How was I to believe—"

"How could you not believe me?!" James bursts out, gesturing wildly to his own chest. "Me!
As if I'd ever lie about that! As if I'd ever hurt you in that way!"

"You spent all that time hurting me as it was!" Regulus shouts back. "Excuse me for trying to
be fucking cautious!"

"I never denied that my insecurities caused me to hurt you, but that's exactly what you're
doing right now! After all of that, and you couldn't stop to listen? You didn't trust me?
Fucking hell, do you even trust me now?"

"It wasn't about trust, James."

"Yes, it was. Answer the bloody question. Do you trust me? Do you even believe me now?
Or is there some part of you that thinks—" James cuts himself off, chest heaving.

"Trust me," Regulus snarls, "you don't want the brutal truth to that. Don't ask questions you
don't want the answers to."

James' nostrils flare. "So you don't trust me? You still think, what, that I'm just carrying on
with you for something to do? I'm lying when I'm with you? I'm pretending?"
"Well, it's not exactly unheard of, is it?" Regulus challenges, lip curling into a sneer. "You
literally did that."

"But I didn't, Regulus!" James explodes, jerking his arms out, feeling wild and untethered
and dangerously close to screaming his head off. "How many times have I said—"

"I know what you bloody well said!"

"I'm not going to spend the rest of my sodding life going round in circles about this! I'm not
going to keep trying to prove my fucking honesty to you when I know it's true!"

"Fine! Don't, then!" Regulus bursts out. "I'm not fucking asking you to, James!"

"You literally are! You won't let it go—"

"You're the one who brought it up!"

"And you don't fucking believe what I say, so what's the point in even trying to talk to you?!"
James garbles out angrily.

"Well, no one's making you." Regulus narrows his eyes at him, arms crossed. "Apparently
you just want to have a go at me for breaking up with you when I had every right—"

"Every right?! After I told you I was in love with you? Really?!"

"Yes, actually. Not that you would understand—"

James scoffs. "Oh, no, no of course not. Go on, then. Make me understand, Regulus, since I
apparently can't fucking—"
"I wasn't going to keep bending to your every whim and suffering just to be with you, James!
For once, for the very first time, I was doing what was best for myself," Regulus hisses, eyes
flashing. "I was going to move past all that!"

"Really, and how is that going for you?" James mocks, jaw clenched, and they glare at each
other in thick silence for a long, long time.

The thing about being madly, deeply in love with someone is that—well, intensity can so
easily blur into passion, a war of emotion that shifts and reforms over and over under the
constant pressure of unending want.

James can't really say what happens, what shifts, or who moves first; they're just very
suddenly snogging rather passionately without any warning whatsoever. Had he been angry
with Regulus? James can't remember when Regulus is touching him like this, wild and
gentle. Hands in his hair, wrenching him closer; biting his lip like a punishment, then sliding
his tongue over it like a reward; shifting to lean back against the wall and dragging James in
until it's hard to distinguish where one ends and the other begins.

It feels like a continuation of an argument they never even got to properly have, both of them
so angry at each other and themselves for wanting one another so much, but never enough to
actually say it until they were both hurt and aching from it. Or, perhaps more honestly, they
wanted each other too much to find the words. It's heavy and loud between them here, and
they're certainly making their points now. James can feel everything unsaid in the way
Regulus touches him, and he's not even upset anymore. No, he's not upset at all. He's melting.
Merlin, he's just sinking right into Regulus with a groan of relief, because what's a broken
heart to one that can be made to feel this whole?

"You infuriate me like no other, James Potter," Regulus gasps out, his head tipping back.

James makes a grumbling noise against Regulus' throat, even if it's admittedly a bit distracted
as he occupies his mouth with better things, like Regulus' skin.

"But when you do that," Regulus continues, his voice strangled, and James makes a more
satisfied noise that time. It's a little muffled. Regulus tugs sharply on his hair, but then pushes
him right back when he starts to lift away. The 'did I say you could stop?' isn't said, but James
hears it. Oh, he hears it very clearly, and he's more than happy to do as he's told.

"Can't believe you broke up with me," James mumbles, still offended. He bites a little at
Regulus' neck to let him know that this was not nice of him. The response he gets tells him
that perhaps this did not come across as the reprimand he meant it to be. "That was not
encouragement. Stop making happy noises about it, you git."

Regulus releases a muffled, breathless laugh, then tugs on James' hair more firmly this time,
tugging him right into a harsh kiss. Close-mouthed and hard. A little mean. James likes it
anyway, of course, and he sways forward for more when they break apart, but Regulus drops
one hand to push him back by his shoulder. He shakes his head, looking at James like he's the
most inexplicable, ridiculous person in the world.

"Fake," Regulus emphasizes, enunciating every letter and dragging the word out. "Fake
breakup. It wasn't real."

"Then why did it hurt so much?" James challenges, holding his gaze, and Regulus' mouth
snaps shut.

For a moment, they just stare at each other, not saying a word. It's a vulnerable thing shared
between them, the acknowledgement of how much they've hurt each other while never
wanting to, the realization of how easy it is to hurt one another even when trying so hard not
to. A remembered ache is just as impactful as a pulsing wound.

After a long beat of silence, Regulus says, "Alright, we need to come to an agreement about
this right now. Whether or not it was real, every single part of it."

"Real," James insists. "You're the realest thing I've ever known. Nothing about you, or how I
feel for you, is fake."

"Real," Regulus repeats, and James nods firmly. Regulus blows out a deep breath. "Alright.
Real, then."
James swallows thickly. "Love, I need to know that you trust me. It's—I don't want you to
spend any time thinking that I'm not in this the same way you are. My feelings—I shouldn't
have to defend them, and you shouldn't have to doubt them."

"This is—" Regulus squeezes his eyes shut. "I don't want you to feel as if you have to prove
yourself to me, because you don't. James, I trust you. I—Gods, I trust you more than I trust
myself, honestly. This is just...my insecurities, and I think you know that. I don't doubt that
you love me, because I know you're sincere and do everything with your entire heart. But it's
like… Do you remember what you said before? When you said your brain wasn't you and
you're kinder than it is?"

"Yes," James says softly.

Regulus opens his eyes, looking a bit sad. "You're kinder than my brain, too. No matter what
I know, sometimes it just…"

"Chocolate frog?" James whispers.

"Maybe. I think so," Regulus rasps. "I'm sorry."

James steps closer and reaches out to grab Regulus' hand, carefully threading their fingers
together. "Don't apologize for that, Regulus. I understand, as you know. Just don't hold it in
and let it hurt. When you feel that way, or when your brain is being a prick, just talk to me.
Ask me. Let me help."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to do more, or that you're not enough as you are,"
Regulus croaks. "It's not—it isn't doubt. I know, James. I do. I just—"

"No, no, it won't be like that," James assures him. "I'll just remind you. That's all. We all need
reminders sometimes, don't we? I certainly do, and you always give them to me. It's not about
me, not this. It's about what you need, love, and I want to give you the things you need."
Regulus stares at him for a long moment, face softening, and then he gives a tiny nod before
gently pulling James in with his free hand to press his face against his throat and hold onto
him. James kisses the top of his head and exhales.

The thing about being madly, deeply in love with someone is that—well, when you are, and
you try very hard at it, there's so many opportunities to heal and grow closer, to be gentle, to
open up and take care of one another.

They're learning that, too.

Three days after Remus' birthday, James makes a delightful little discovery. This is how it
happens:

"Lads, I think the worst has happened," Sirius announces dramatically, sweeping into the
dorm room.

"No, not Bowie!" Peter gasps, hand to his chest.

Remus gives him a sharp look. "Don't joke about that."

"No, my lovely moonage daydream, Bowie surely lives on, or else the world would fall apart
around us all." Sirius moves over to dip down over where Remus is perched on his bed to
press a kiss to his forehead, like he's soothing him. Remus seems to appreciate it. "What's
happened is…"

"Get on with it, Padfoot," James says, amused.

Sirius bites his fist, squeezing his eyes closed, then he presses the back of his hand to his
forehead and collapses on the bed to fling himself across Remus' lap. "Oh, I fear that my little
brother might be cooler than me."

"Oh, you nutter," Peter mumbles, exasperated.

"What do you mean?" James blurts out, immediately interested in this conversation. His heart
perks up. Regulus? Every time.

"I was with Reggie earlier, and that lovely little girl that's so fond of him stopped by.
Melanie," Sirius explains. "She said outright that he is cooler than me. Him! Cooler than me."
He groans and looks up at Remus. "Say it isn't so, Remus, please. Lie to me if you must."

Remus gently pushes his hair back off his forehead with a small smile, like he's soothing him.
Sirius seems to appreciate it. "Definitely true, I'm afraid."

"Moony," Sirius hisses in despair.

"You're not cool at all, actually," Peter announces.

"Wormtail?" Sirius chokes out, popping up to gape at him in pure disbelief. "How could you?
I would expect Remus to betray me, but you? I never thought you'd be a traitor!"

Peter's lips twitch. "You'd never see it until it was too late."

"It's a fortunate thing you use your brilliance for good and not for evil," James muses. "With
a mind like yours, you could ruin us all if you decided to."

"Oh, I have the internal debate daily."

"But, ultimately, you love us too much to betray us."

"Love has nothing to do with it," Peter replies, grinning over at him. "I just haven't found the
perfect opportunity yet."

James reaches over and pokes his nose, watching it twitch with fondness. "Pure evil, you
are."

"Absolutely," Peter agrees.

"Oh, again, Sirius?" Remus suddenly complains.

"What?" Sirius blurts out, looking alarmed. "What did I do? Whatever it was, I didn't do it.
And remember I love you."

Remus rolls his eyes. "I just smelled you, only to smell James."

"Well, why are you bloody sniffing me anyway?" Sirius asks, raising his eyebrows as he
smirks.

"Because—oh, shut up," Remus mutters.

"I'm confused," James admits.

"Sirius keeps using your soap," Remus explains. "I've done it when he and Pete use mine, but
I don't make a point to. Sirius has been using yours for the last two weeks straight."

"I miss him," Sirius says, pouting.

"Padfoot, where have I gone?" James asks.

Sirius shrugs. "Nowhere. I just miss you sometimes."

"Yeah, I get that," James allows, bobbing his head, because he knows what that's like.
Sometimes he misses Sirius, too, even when he has no right to.

"It's fine, mostly," Remus tells him, rolling his eyes, "but it gets confusing in the mornings
after he's used your bloody soap. I think I'm waking up next to you, and I'm always like why
is James wrapped around me like a vine?"

"Well, now I'm going to have to swap out with Sirius just to confuse you more," James says,
cracking a weak grin, and Remus snorts. "It's the werewolf senses, isn't it? Why you can
smell us so well like that, I mean."

"Mm, yeah, and I've always just had a strong nose. Although, I've also always been a
werewolf, really," Remus says wryly, shaking his head. "It's because Moony recognizes the
smell of Prongs, Padfoot, and Wormtail, too. That has a lot to do with it. You bloody well
smell like Prongs even when you're not."

"Does that—bother you?" James asks warily. "I mean, I can stop if it's irritating. Get a new
soap."

"No, it's fine, James. It doesn't bother me. Sometimes it's actually...comforting," Remus
admits. "Don't worry, you can keep using your fancy eucalyptus body soap."

James chuckles. "Alright, I will, then. It's really—"

"Prongs?" Remus says, blinking, because James has just frozen in place, his brain doing a
harsh record-scratch.
"What did you just say?" James breathes out, staring at Remus with wide eyes. "Remus, say
what you just said again."

"Um, Prongs?"

"Before that."

"Don't worry, you can keep using your fancy eucalyptus body soap?" Remus ventures
cautiously, staring at him warily.

"Do I—is that what I smell like? Do I smell like eucalyptus?" James asks, his heart racing.
"Are you absolutely certain?"

Remus raises his eyebrows. "Yes. My nose is good, as I've mentioned, and it literally says it
on the soap bottle, James."

"Oh," James whispers, and then he's dropping everything and scrambling up from the bed in
a heartbeat.

"Where are you going?" Peter calls after him in disbelief while James crashes through the
dorm frantically.

"Eucalyptus!" James bellows, and then he's gone.

James runs to the library, because he knows for a fact that Regulus is there right now. He's
running like he never has before, except for when he was running to the lake after Regulus.
It's always Regulus he's chasing after, but this time, he's not afraid the way he was then. His
mind is outrunning him again, tripping all over itself, but he remembers. He fucking
remembers the conversation they had.
"It was the way the air smells when it's really cold, smoked wood from a fireplace, and—"
Regulus had closed his eyes, jaw clenched as he spit out the next word. "Eucalyptus."

"What's so shameful about eucalyptus?" James had asked, and he never really got an answer,
did he? He thinks he has it now.

James' chest is heaving as he darts frantically past the bookshelves in the library, glancing in
between them quickly before scrambling to the next one, and then he crashes into the side of
one the second he finds Regulus. He's alone, reaching out to put a book back on a shelf, and
he looks over to stare as James gasps for air and leans against the bookcase, gaping at him in
amazement. Because eucalyptus. Fucking eucalyptus. There's no way, but—but maybe—

"Did you run here?" Regulus asks him, incredulous.

"From—from my dorm, yeah," James admits, wheezing.

Regulus arches an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

"Eucalyptus," James blurts out, and his heart practically trips in his chest the moment
Regulus' expression twitches, just the slightest widening of his eyes, the tiny part of his lips,
the quiet hitch of breath in his chest. "Oh. Oh, bloody hell. Me. It's me. I'm eucalyptus. I was
—I was eucalyptus."

"James," Regulus starts to protest, his face twitching more.

"It was me. You smelled me," James chokes out, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. "That's
what you were ashamed of. So, this whole time, even then, even before we—"

"Oh, don't," Regulus groans, reaching up to cover his face with both hands, visibly
mortified.
"I thought—I thought you started fancying me after we started dating, but it was before,"
James declares in wonder. He pushes away from the bookcase when Regulus doesn't
resurface from his palms. Moving forward, James reaches out to tug his hands down, and
Regulus' face is a bright, vivid red all the way up to his hairline. "Even then, Regulus?"

"I told you I was always yours," Regulus mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut, and he looks so
humiliated.

James cups his face in his hands. It's very hot. "Please don't be embarrassed, because this is
the best day of my life. I have to go find a happy rock. You had a crush on me."

"We're dating," Regulus snaps.

"Yeah, but—you still did," James announces giddily, beaming at him in pure delight. "I'm
going to kiss you now. Can I?"

After a pause, Regulus murmurs, "Well, alright—"

He barely gets to finish before James is snogging him fiercely, feeling rather on top of the
world at the moment. He's eucalyptus. Him! Oh, that's just lovely, isn't it? Genuinely, it
pleases him so much that he can't stop himself from breaking out into a grin, which sort of
makes the whole snogging bit a little more of a challenge, but he tries anyway. He ultimately
gives up and breaks away when he literally can't wipe the smile off his face, and Regulus
huffs.

"You smell good, too, if that helps," James offers. "Really, really good, actually. Like spicy
mangoes."

"Fruit," Regulus says flatly.

"Yeah," James confirms. "It's lovely."

"I smell like spicy fruit, and you smell like fucking sunshine and meadows," Regulus
grumbles. "Wonderful. This is just… Yes, well, I have to go drown myself in the lake now."

That wipes the smile off of James' face. "What? Reg, why would you say that? Why the fuck
would you joke about that?"

"It's—" Regulus halts, blinking at him. "Oh. Sorry. I—well, alright, that's a bit lacking in tact,
considering…"

"Please don't joke about that to me," James says quietly.

Regulus' eyebrows tug together. "Alright. I mean, obviously I wouldn't. I was just—being a
bit dramatic, I suppose. I think it helps me to—to sort of joke about it, in a way, like it can't
really have the power to frighten me if I don't give it any."

"It's always going to frighten me, so the jokes—" James presses his lips into a thin line. "I'm
not judging you for how you deal with it, but I—can't. So, around me, will you...not?"

"I won't," Regulus murmurs, lips tipping down.

"Right," James croaks, his voice hoarse. Even now, a shudder ripples through his body. His
heart thumps, and the memory of Regulus on the ground, lips blue, not breathing...it flashes
in his mind; it still haunts his fucking nightmares, to this day. He flicks his gaze over
Regulus' face now, taking in the life in his eyes, the flush on his cheeks, the red hue of his
mouth.

"James," Regulus says, his eyes softening.

"I should have known then. I should have—" James makes a quiet noise and looks away,
looks up at the ceiling, looks for some sort of reprieve from all the emotion that sits heavy on
his chest. "I beat Mulciber, I had the thought that I'd fucking drown myself in the lake as
well, and I needed—I needed you. I needed you to be alright, and I needed you to hold me,
and I needed to be with you. The moment I saw you, I needed you in my arms, and I needed
to kiss you, I had to, and I—" He looks at Regulus helplessly. "I just needed you."

Regulus doesn't say anything. He just cups James' cheek, gazing at him, and James reaches
up to cradle the back of his hand, holding him there. They stare at each other in fragile quiet.
James never forgot that feeling of being so dangerously close to falling apart because he
nearly lost Regulus; it still sits within him now. To this day, he's afraid of it.

"It was love," James whispers. "At that point, it was love, and from there, it was love. I loved
you there, do you understand?"

"I know," Regulus replies gently. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You compared me to Pyramus." James searches Regulus' gaze, studying every flickering of
emotion in his eyes. There's so much to be found, if one would only look. "You were right."

"That's when I knew," Regulus tells him.

Swallowing, James rasps, "Knew what?"

"I suppose I—I knew that's what it was coming to, but I had the thought that if you did, if I
had woken up and you did as Pyramus had, I would have done no differently than Thisbe. For
all that I'm terrified of drowning, I felt I would do it gladly rather than go on without you,"
Regulus says. "I couldn't deny it then, that I was in love with you. That's when I knew."

"You asked me once if I could imagine loving someone so much that I'd die next to them
rather than live on without them," James replies, a lump forming in his throat. "I don't have to
imagine anymore. Now I know."
"Oh, that would be a tragedy," Regulus rasps. "The world deprived of you would wither. So
would I."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," James says, his voice rather small, because he has a
harsh clench in his chest, and he can't do it. He can't even think about it. Just the mere hint
makes him want to fold into a ball and disintegrate.

"Soft-hearted," Regulus notes, a callback to their very first conversation about this, only now
he lifts his hand and presses it over James' heart like he'll keep it safe with his palm. "Yes,
alright, we won't talk about it anymore."

"Thank you," James says. "Can we go back to talking about how lovely we both smell?"

Regulus huffs out a weak laugh. "Sure, James. You do rather smell really nice. I was so
annoyed when I caught a whiff of you from the potion. I sort of expected it, if I'm honest. By
that point…well, I could tell what was happening."

"When exactly did you start fancying me?" James asks curiously. "You said you've wanted
me since you knew what it was to want at all. I thought—I mean, I suppose I assumed you
meant after we started dating the first time, because you were always banging on about not
being in love or fancying anyone, but that's obviously not the case."

"If I answer this question, I might actually spontaneously burst into flame and just—cease to
exist," Regulus mutters.

James blinks. "Er, why?"

"It's genuinely that embarrassing."

"Surely not. Go on. You have to, I'm sad."

"Oh, well, we can't have that, can we?" Regulus' lips twitch, but then he heaves a sigh and
grimaces. "Right, so… Well, I found out I was gay in fourth year."

"Yeah, you mentioned."

"Mm. How I found out was because a certain Gryffindor wandered into the Slytherin room
after a Quidditch match by accident, I'm assuming, and immediately took his shirt off."

"What idiot did that?" James says with a laugh. Regulus stares at him, and a moment later,
the memory comes back to James. He blinks. "Oh, I'm the idiot that did that."

Regulus arches an eyebrow. "Yes."

"Oh." James sits on that for a second, then his eyes bulge as his mouth drops open. "Wait.
Wait, really? I was your queer awakening? Are you having me on?"

"I wish I was joking," Regulus replies dryly.

"Merlin," James breathes out, and then he rears back. "No. Wait, no, tell me you haven't
fancied me since fourth year?"

"Not—distinctly," Regulus mumbles, his face starting to turn red again. "I just noticed you
were fit, and kept noticing, and maybe hated you for it a bit. But, well, when you actually
started talking to me and paying attention to me…" He blows out a defeated breath. "I didn't
stand a chance, really."

"I am both extremely happy about this and also somehow upset for you about it," James
admits, because he is. If he could go back in time and whack himself over the head, he
would. Just grab himself by the chin and jerk his head around to force him to look at Regulus,
because he had no idea. He was missing out on the love of his life. "But, you know, I didn't
stand a chance either, not from the moment something in me couldn't bear to let you walk
away."
 "I'm not upset with you about it," Regulus says. "I rather hated you, actually. I was convinced
I did, anyway."

"Look at us now," James teases, breaking out into a grin.

"Who would have thought?" Regulus agrees, lips twitching.

James hums and leans forward to hover his mouth over Regulus', winking at him. "Not us,
that's for sure, but I've never been more glad we were wrong. I've got you now, love, and I'm
never letting you go again."

That's certainly the right thing to say, because Regulus makes a quiet, muffled noise like he's
pleased and wrenches him in by his tie, dragging him into a snog. James grins into that one as
well, but Regulus kisses him anyway.

He's smiling, too.

Chapter End Notes

regulus not believing in love before james, im gonna CRY. 😭😭😭 also them dancing.
and regulus being a horny little shit, like: oh we didn't shag last time, is THAT what
we're doing? james, please, he's SUFFERING.

the fight. like, sure, they're happy and stuff, but regulus has trust issues and james has
"am i not enough, am i doing everything wrong?" issues. these do not mesh well, but
they're figuring it out. also, like, if you're gonna do a fake dating trope, you HAVE to
acknowledge the aftermath where at least one half is like "is this real now, was it ever
real???" because doubt is a very human thing, ESPECIALLY for someone with trust
issues like regulus. but they handled it well, learning to take care of each other. they're
so sweet, i love them.

the obligatory "traitor peter" joke. except worse because sirius "i would expect remus to
betray me" black is the one who makes it 😭😭😭 oh, im awful sometimes. but it's okay
because in THIS world ive created, that is simply Not An Issue, because i say so. and
wolfstar being cute, i love them so much.

the eucalyptus scene. you may not believe me, but that has been planned literally since

happy about that 🥺

chapter three of this fic. i was DELIGHTED while i was writing it. james would be so
and sirius using james' soap because he misses him, that's so real of
him. james and sirius just missing each other even when they're right next to each other.
i love them. and james screaming EUCALYPTUS and just running away without
another word, while remus, peter, and sirius are all like: you know what? i don't even
wanna know, at this point. HELP I LOVE THEM 😭😭😭

anyway, hope you all enjoyed!!! i can't believe we're only five chapters away from the
end :(
 ACT FIVE: Part Four
Chapter Notes

warnings for this chapter: very brief reference to child abuse (shockingly NOT walburga
and orion, but rather evan's family situation), and some bittersweet feelings, and it's
stated outright that shagging occurs, but it's fade-to-black and not explicit at all. anyway,
this is mostly fluff and humor.

this chapter is pretty long, but all chapters from here will be, just as a warning.
like...they get really long. sorry? you're welcome? whichever suits you, i guess.

enjoy 🥰
See the end of the chapter for more notes

Perhaps it's ironic, but James finds that one of his favorite things to do is drag Regulus off to
some secret spot where they can snog in peace, away from prying eyes. In all honesty, he's
been happy to snog Regulus anywhere at any time no matter who was watching, but in the
weeks since they agreed to give it another go, a proper one, James has discovered that he
much prefers to keep Regulus all to himself.

When they're alone, Regulus relaxes more, for one thing. He likes his privacy, and this makes
James like it by extension; he certainly has a new appreciation for it, in any case. When no
one can hear them, Regulus makes truly delicious, maddening noises that James can never
quite get enough of. When it's just them, and no one is around, Regulus allows himself to be
bolder, to more openly ask for what he wants, or just take it; James is so fucking pleased
when he takes it.

There's something about sneaking around as well, like a forbidden love affair. Obviously they
have no reason to hide, as literally everyone knows about them already, but they get a thrill
from it anyway. Just secret spots and stolen touches, hidden smiles when they look at each
other later, a mutual spark in their eyes that says they're thinking of the same thing.

At the moment, Regulus is making one of those delightful sounds of his, particularly the soft
hums of someone very pleased with their current situation. James quite honestly thinks he
could survive on the sound of Regulus' satisfaction as nourishment for the rest of his life.
"Hands," Regulus mumbles against his mouth.

"What about them?" James murmurs, tilting his head to mouth aimlessly along Regulus' jaw,
completely sucked into the heady rush of having him.

Regulus huffs out a breathless laugh. "Well, what are they doing at the moment, James?"

"Not sure. Probably something they shouldn't," James says with a low hum, and sure enough,
he becomes aware of his hands and what they're doing. Pesky little buggers with minds of
their own, they are. He puts in the effort to stop them from steadily sliding up under Regulus'
jumper.

"No, no, they definitely should," Regulus tells him. "Just didn't want you to miss out on what
they were getting up to, is all."

James immediately starts moving his hands again, releasing a punched-out, breathless noise
as they slide over Regulus' skin. He's so warm, and every curve and divot and give of muscle
and fat feels like a miraculous new discovery. The only thing better is the full-body shiver
that rolls through Regulus, followed by him muffling a quiet groan by dragging James' mouth
back to his. James is more than happy to go.

In all honesty, they hardly get any time to do things such as this. Between Remus' birthday,
then James' birthday, revising, queer club, detentions, friendships, classes, and the upcoming
Easter hols...well, they haven't gotten to be alone as much as they would have liked. James is
acutely aware that he's about to spend two weeks in constant proximity to Regulus at home
with no distractions, which he's immensely excited about.

That's not to say they don't spend time together. They do. In fact, they see each other literally
every day, sometimes multiple times a day, but that's in front of other students or with their
friends. Not that James won't be affectionate with Regulus around others (obviously this is
not an issue for him), but he can't really be...affectionate like this. James is quite sure that if
Sirius knew he was drawing these sorts of noises out of his little brother, he'd hit the roof, and
also be traumatized.
Well, life does love its ironies, doesn't it?

The door bangs open without warning, and there's the sound of feet stumbling along the floor
and something bumping into the abandoned shelves on the wall. It's a very small, compact
cupboard that James is quite sure used to hold toiletries or spare things needed for
classrooms, but the point is—it's abandoned and dark now. Because it is so small, it doesn't
take very long for whoever has fallen in to bump into James' back.

"Occupied," James says sharply, annoyed in an instant by the interruption. Regulus has gone
stiff, tensing up against him, all of his delightful happy noises cutting off.

There's a beat of silence, and then, "James?"

"Sirius?" James replies.

"Oh, you've got to be joking," says Remus, who is also here, apparently. He sounds a bit
winded and also exasperated.

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" James asks.

"Are you doing what I'm desperately hoping you're not?" Sirius shoots back.

Regulus heaves a sigh. "I really hate my life sometimes."

There's a long, long pause between all of them. It's awkward. James carefully removes his
hands from underneath Regulus' jumper, going slow so as to not attract attention. There's a
brief shuffle of feet against the floor, then Remus clears his throat loudly. James coughs once
his hands are safely away from anything others would consider inappropriate.

"So, you see, I'm in a bit of a dilemma," Sirius says. "The problem is, I'd very much like to
leave with Remus and obliviate this entire encounter from my memories, but that would
mean I'm leaving you two here to—well, I'm artfully avoiding all possibilities for my own
sanity, but you get my point, surely. Do you see my problem?"

"I see your problem," James admits solemnly.

"Yes, your problem," Regulus snaps. "We were here first. Get your own cupboard, would
you? James, put your hands right back where they were."

"And where would that be?" Sirius asks suspiciously.

"Um," James mumbles.

Sirius sighs deeply. "I'll give you a head start."

"Cheers," James says weakly, then risks life and limb to press a quick kiss to Regulus' mouth
before turning and running out the door, laughing breathlessly the whole way.

He makes it quite far, actually. All the way out onto the grounds, zig-zagging haphazardly to
dodge Sirius as they laugh and heckle each other back and forth. In the end, James sprints
directly into the Forbidden Forest, and as soon as he's through the cover of the trees, he's
galloping as Prongs. It takes only seconds before Padfoot is barking behind him.

There's a moment where it's just the forest and them, and then Padfoot is launching himself
right at him, and they go down in a mess of antlers, snarling, and the odd bleating noise that
Prongs makes. They're still rolling when it shifts into laughter and the limbs of two young
men, but they eventually come to a halting thud with twin groans and breathless chuckles.

"Merlin," Sirius huffs out, dragging himself off James to collapse on the ground beside him.
They're both panting and grinning a little stupidly up at that treetops.
"You only caught me because you had paws," James declares, then yelps when Sirius reaches
over to roughly rub his hair with his palm, shaking his head back and forth a bit.

"Oh, shut up," Sirius teases, snorting when James swats his hand away. They fall quiet and
just breathe for a bit, utterly relaxed in each other's presence, as always. After a bit, Sirius
hums quietly. "You really are good for him, you know."

"Regulus?"

"Mhm. Never seen him so happy, honestly."

James bites down on his bottom lip, though it doesn't stop him from grinning in the least.
"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sirius confirms. "Suppose you can't tell the way I can, but he's always been a bit… I
don't know. Distant, I think. That's the word to describe it. Distant from the concept of
happiness, like that's something for other people and not him. And that's not to say that he
doesn't ever get happy, or feel happy, or have good moments in his life, but I mean happiness
in general. An overall state of being. And he's always sort of just...been on the outside of it,
like it didn't fit into his life, like it wasn't meant for him."

"And he's not that way anymore?"

"No, he is. That's still—it's still a part of him. I don't think that's the sort of thing that just
goes away. Love can do a lot, but it can't fix all the ways in which we're a bit broken. I don't
feel like that's a bad thing, though. I am in my own ways, and Remus loving me can't heal
me, but there is something special about the fact that he loves me in spite of them, or possibly
even a little bit because of. With Regulus, I think you've given him a bridge to happiness he
never had before."

"Oh," James whispers, feeling like he's just been slammed to the ground once more, all the air
shoving free from his lungs. The idea that he's Regulus' bridge to the concept of happiness
means so much to him; maybe Regulus can't always cross it, but the fact that James put it
there for him when he can… It's enough to make James feel like he's going to cry, but he
settles for covering his face with both hands and releasing a muffled shout into them, just
needing to get some of his emotion out.

"Alright, mate?" Sirius muses, like he hasn't just broken out one of the most in-depth,
emotional descriptions of love and happiness James has ever heard, without even batting an
eye.

James turns on his side and scoots over (ignoring the small branch poking him in his hip),
then dumps his head over on Sirius' shoulder. He mumbles, "I love him so much, Sirius."

"I know," Sirius says. "It's so obvious now. I can't believe I didn't fucking notice. Merlin, we
don't know very much about anything, do we?"

"Afraid not," James agrees with a sigh.

Sirius pats the back of his head. "I don't really get it. How people are just so—aware of
things, yeah? I mean, I'm observant when I want to be; I can make out that there are things to
see, but making out what it is I'm looking at is harder. Like—like I know I'm feeling things,
but it's like I can't work out what it is until I'm already reacting to them, or I just mix them up.
Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I think so. It's a bit different for me. I have this…" James grimaces slightly. "Well, I
don't want to call it a skill, because I'm not so sure that it is anymore. But, in any case, my
brain does this thing where it decides something—it can be anything—and everything I'm
feeling warps to that, or if it can't, then my brain just...ignores it. Like...being sad. I tell
myself not to be sad, and so then I have to not be sad, except I'm still sad and just pretending
not to be, but I've fooled myself in the process, only then I'm sad and confused and feeling
guilty for it, too. Does that make any sense at all?"

"Yeah," Sirius murmurs. "I get it. That makes sense."

"And sometimes my brain is like a chocolate frog," James admits, picking idly at a loose
string on Sirius' jumper. Well, it's Remus' jumper, but regardless.
"I'd say mine's like pixies," Sirius says thoughtfully.

James considers that for a second, then hums. "Yeah, I can see that for you. Sounds awful,
mate."

"It is. Chocolate frog isn't much better."

"Less violent, though."

"Tell me about it," Sirius replies dryly. "More anxious, I'd say."

"Oh, yeah, definitely that," James agrees. He's silent for a long moment, then he snorts
quietly. "We left our boyfriends behind alone in a cupboard together."

"Merlin, what a worrying thought, now that I've thought about it. What if they—" Sirius
makes a low sound and shudders next to him. "Oh, James, what if they become friends?"

"That would be—nice."

"Think about it. Think about what that would mean for us."

"That would be a nightmare," James corrects.

Sirius hums. "Yes, it would."

In the next second, they're springing up at the same time and scrambling over each other to
rush back to the castle in the hopes of intercepting the bond that Remus and Regulus could
inevitably form as their respective boyfriends. Unfortunately, by the time they make it back
inside, Regulus and Remus are nowhere to be found, and James fears they're already too late.

Chocolate frog and pixie brains—look where it gets them.

James bursts into the train compartment with such force that Dorcas jerks up from Marlene's
shoulder and makes him duck with a yelp from the spell she's thrown at his head before her
eyes ever open. He's gaping at her when her eyes do open, and she glares at him sleepily,
huffing as she lowers her wand.

"Good lord, Potter, give us a bit of warning next time," Lily mutters, staring at him
incredulously.

"Er, sorry," James says sheepishly. "Didn't know anyone was sleeping. Not too far off from
stopping now, so I wanted to come see everyone before we all get off."

"Making your rounds, are you?" Mary asks, amused. She didn't even flinch when James came
in, though that could be just because she's too comfortable to care about anything, from what
James can tell. She's sprawled out with her head in Lily's lap, eyes hooded as Lily gives her
what appears to be a very thorough hand massage.

James shuffles over to lift Mary's legs and dump them in his lap as he sits down. "Mhm.
How's the ride been, then?"

"Quiet, before you," Marlene says dryly.

"Does he do this often?" Dorcas mumbles, scrubbing at the side of her face with a sleepy
scowl.
"Every year before and after every break, the hols and summer, ever since the first," Lily lists
off.

"Well, I have to, don't I? It's tradition, at this point," James points out, which earns him
laughter and fond smiles.

"What's your plans for the break, then?" Mary asks, nudging him lazily in the stomach with
her foot.

"Oh, not much, really. Just—spending time with my parents, Sirius, and Regulus. Pete and
Remus will come, too, I don't doubt," James explains. "You're all welcome, of course, if any
of you want to come by. Sirius likes to go out sometimes, and we can now, being of age and
all. He says he wants to get a motorbike, so we'll probably do that. Might go to the cinema
and see a film; Remus says that's something to do, and it sounds bloody brilliant. Does
anyone care for it?"

"I can't, unfortunately," Mary says with a sigh. "I'll be traveling with my family."

"Petunia is sure to be dreadful, so I'd like to come, but I suspect by now she's engaged to that
awful boyfriend of hers, so I might be forced to help with wedding planning," Lily mutters,
wrinkling her nose in visible distaste.

"I'll be out of the country for most of the break," Marlene announces, her eyes bright. "I have
an opportunity to shadow Benjy Fenwick for a curse-breaking expedition along the alps. You
remember Benjy, don't you? Same year as Gid and Fab."

James bobs his head. "Yeah, I remember. That sounds wicked, actually. You must be
excited."

"So much," Marlene admits. "Mum and Dad might be more excited than I am, though. I
could be the youngest curse-breaker in over two centuries."
"Our Marlene McKinnon, breaking records," Lily teases, the pride in her eyes shining
through brightly.

"Doesn't surprise me one bit," Dorcas murmurs, lips curling up as she looks over at Marlene,
face softening.

"And you, Dorcas?" James prompts.

"I'll be with my family, too," Dorcas says.

"What about Pandora and—" James cuts himself off, grimacing before he even finishes. It's
obvious who else he was going to mention, seeing as Barty stayed behind at Hogwarts.
There's only one option left.

Dorcas' lips press into a thin line. "Evan has to go home. His dad is making him, and—and
he'd actually like to see his mum as well. His birthday is over the hols, though, so when he
gets back, he'll move back into the dorm with Barty and Reg. I just—I worry about what state
he'll return in, that's all."

"Will it be very bad, do you think?" James whispers.

"Well, it won't be good. Evan wasn't meant to associate with Regulus at all after he was
disowned," Dorcas says quietly, averting her eyes. "There's no doubt that it's gotten back to
his father that they're still friends. They've been more careful since he was moved out of the
dorm, but maybe not as careful as they would have been if Regulus hadn't nearly fucking
died, because Evan hovered a lot after that and didn't care what his father would think."

"That's such shit," Mary spits out, scowling. "Evan doesn't deserve to have his life fucking
dictated by his father."

"No," Dorcas agrees, "he doesn't."

"What about Pandora, then?" James asks. "Do you know, or has she not said?"

"Pandora will be traveling," Dorcas tells him.

"Well, I'll go see them anyway, then," James declares, patting Mary on her leg where they're
lazily folded across his lap. She dutifully lifts them so he can stand, and he flashes them all a
smile. "I'll be off now. I hope you all enjoy your break."

He gets a warm chorus of you, too and same to you, but then he's slipping out of the
compartment and carrying on his way. It doesn't take very long before he reaches the proper
one, and it's pure luck that he meets Evan right at the door just as he's about to go in. James
speeds up to catch his arm.

"Oh. James," Evan says, blinking. "Come to see Reggie, have you? Merlin, you'll have him to
yourself for the next two weeks, mate. Save some of him for the rest of us."

"Well, I came to see everyone, actually," James corrects with a chuckle. "Where are you
coming from?"

"Loo," Evan answers. "You?"

"Just left Dorcas, Mary, Marlene, and Lily." James pauses, then lowers his voice. "Look, I'm
not—this isn't anything more than an offer, and I know it's never as simple as this, but if
things are bad at home… Well, if you don't want to be there for any reason, Evan, you could
always come to mine."

Evan stares at him. "Yours."

"Yeah," James says simply. "Regulus and Sirius aren't an isolated event, you know. My
parents would gladly take in anyone who needed it, or wanted it. Just—that's an option. If
you feel trapped, you have options."

"Did Regulus put you up to this?" Evan asks, eyes narrowed.

James shakes his head. "No. He doesn't even know, but I doubt he'd mind. You're one of his
best friends."

"I—that's not at all what I meant, but alright." Evan takes a deep breath, then blows it out,
shaking his head. "Look, my birthday is over the break, and I'll handle myself from there. I've
my own way of doing things, and this way… Well, it'll benefit Barty, too, I imagine."

"Barty?" James asks, eyebrows tugging together.

Evan glances around, then leans in closer and lowers his voice to a whisper. "I've been smart
with my galleons, and I'll get a small inheritance when I come of age. It'll be enough to get a
flat, one big enough that Barty won't have to stay with his father, who he hates—and neither
will I. Sure, I'll be disowned, and I'll actually have to work to have money, but I won't be
forced to marry and provide children for the Rosier legacy. Barty won't be forced to work at
the Ministry like his father is basically requiring him to. I—have a plan, James. A good one.
And I'll do it my way, but...thank you."

"Well, alright," James murmurs, nodding. "Just wanted to offer. And it can always be a
backup plan, if nothing else."

"You're a good sort, Potter," Evan tells him, lips twitching, and then he opens the
compartment and meanders in.

James follows him inside, immediately feeling his heart flutter the second Regulus lifts his
gaze from his book and looks right at him. James recognizes the book, seeing as it's his, but
he's also seen Regulus with it before. Sonnets of a Sorcerer.
"Hello," James says softly, moving over to sit down on the seat right next to him, studying his
face. "I thought you finished that one? Or are you rereading?"

"Rereading a bit to pass the time," Regulus replies, closing the book gently. "I thought I'd
return it back to the library I borrowed it from."

"Nicked it from."

"Borrowed."

James grins helplessly and leans in, bracing his palms on the edge of the seat as he hovers his
face closer to Regulus', left breathless by the way Regulus' gaze flits all over his features,
repeatedly snagging on his mouth before finally settling on staring directly into his eyes. It's a
bold stare. A daring one that makes James' heart race. "You're a thief, that's what you are.
Stealing my heart wasn't enough?"

"Oh, that was awful," Regulus says. "Horribly soppy, even for you."

"Then why are you pleased?"

"I'm not. I'm disgusted."

"Mhm, sure." James' lips curl up. "Whatever you say, love."

Regulus rests his chin on his own shoulder, peering up through his eyelashes, his hair a lovely
swoop of curls and waves around his head. He looks soft like this, and there's a tiny smile
curving his mouth. Sweet and tempting. "Stealing hearts indicates they're not willingly given,
you know."

"I'd carve mine out of my chest and place it in your hands if you asked. You'd only need to
say the word."
"Do it."

James immediately starts to reach for the front of his jumper, but Regulus jerks forward and
catches his hand. "What? Why are you stopping me? Let me do it."

"I'm not entirely convinced you wouldn't," Regulus mutters, vaguely distressed. "I can't tell if
you're joking."

"Neither can I," James admits.

"You're ridiculous," Regulus tells him with a quiet huff of amazed laughter. He tugs James'
hand down and keeps it between their thighs on the seat. "Keep your very necessary, vital
heart in your chest, please, and let it do what it's meant to. I'm rather fond of where it's at,
thank you."

"Oh, well, if you insist," James murmurs. He leans in and nudges Regulus' nose with his own,
then his cheek, angling for a kiss that never lands, because Evan coughs loudly.

"Right, other people exist," Evan says dryly when they lean back slowly and glance over to
find Pandora and Evan staring at them. Evan looks unimpressed. Pandora looks pleased.

"That may have slipped my mind the moment I saw him," James declares, only half-joking.
Mostly not joking at all. His whole world narrows down to Regulus whenever he's near.

Pandora chuckles. "I was hoping you'd actually carve out your heart. That would have been
intriguing to watch."

"The concern I feel for you, Pandora…" Evan grimaces, but Pandora's eyes sparkle with
amusement. "The fact that I know you're not lying disturbs me."
"It's a fair thing to be interested in. Haven't you always wanted to know if a heart would still
beat on the outside of a chest?"

"No, never. I've never wanted to know that."

"Well, you lack imagination and understandable curiosity," Pandora grumbles, clicking her
tongue.

Evan groans. "Reg, tell her, please."

"Don't drag me into this. I'm very neutral on the subject."

"The subject of your boyfriend's heart being carved from his chest? You're neutral about it?"

"Yes," Regulus says with a straight face.

Pandora starts giggling in delight as Evan makes a big show of being disgusted and appalled
by them all. He reaches out for the thick patchwork of a blanket in between him and Pandora,
balling it up into a makeshift pillow that he props up in her lap. He gets comfortable, resting
his head on the blanket and swinging one leg over the side of the bench. Pandora doesn't
seem to mind, and she grabs her small bag beside her to start fiddling around inside it.

James leans back and relaxes, watching them. Evan seems to be attempting to sleep, but he
replies in a soft murmur every time Pandora says something to him. Meanwhile, Pandora has
drawn out a strange quill and a very tiny inkpot that she rests on the middle of Evan's
forehead, and then she proceeds to start drawing on her own arm, eyebrows wrinkled in
concentration. James glances over at Regulus, who's watching them both with a tiny smile, a
fond one.

"What do you suppose she's drawing?" James asks, leaning over to whisper in Regulus' ear.
"Probably a throbbing heart bursting from a chest," Regulus says, and he doesn't sound like
he's joking at all.

"And which sonnet were you reading?" James continues, slipping his hand gingerly over
Regulus' wrist to thumb at the small opening where the book is mildly parted around where
Regulus has held his place with one finger.

Regulus doesn't protest when James tugs the book from his hand, keeping his place as he
opens it. He's leaning over on his arm, the harsh curve of his shoulder elevated to keep it by
his face, almost-but-not-quite shielding his expression and drawing further attention to the
lazy, hooded sweep of his eyes. James' brain briefly stumbles in pure disbelief, because truly,
Regulus has a timeless, effortless beauty to him that blows James away every time he really
thinks about it. Merlin, he should be a fucking statue, or something.

James wants to—well, he wants to do a lot of things. Not all of them are inappropriate. Some
of them are as innocent as him wrapping his arms around Regulus and trying to, as always,
memorize the shape of him. He's sure his arms will warp and mold themselves to the outline
of Regulus, like those trees that are trained to grow a certain way over years. James wouldn't
be surprised if his entire anatomy shifts to accommodate having Regulus Black in the
endeavor to keep him.

Regulus arches an eyebrow at him. "James?"

"Hm?" James blinks, then clears his throat and glances down to actually look at the book. It's
open to a sonnet he instantly recognizes. His head snaps up. "My favorite?"

"Is it still your favorite?" Regulus asks quietly.

James hums thoughtfully and slides closer, holding the book out in front of him as he leans in
until his mouth is right next to Regulus' ear. "My uncomely love knows no bounds for you."

"Uncomely love. That's one word for it," Regulus mutters, huffing out a soft laugh that James
can feel against his jaw, and it makes James grin. "Are you going to read it? Actually?"
"Yes. As I was saying. My uncomely love knows no bounds for you. How I perceive the world
befalls my eyes," James continues, shifting to swivel towards Regulus, lifting one leg to
throw it over his knees. He holds the book down between them, but rests his cheek on
Regulus' shoulder.

Regulus leans over into him, his arm pressing into James' chest, and when he ducks his head,
his voice is a low murmur drifting secretive between them. "That's sad, don't you think? It's
saying that there's nothing good to be seen in the world, so having to look is a stroke of
misfortune."

"I always thought it was the opposite," James admits. "As in, the Sorcerer is in pain from
their love, so they can only see the world that way. Not as bright. Not as warm. Not as
happy."

"Not the world itself, but the world where one loves alone," Regulus says slowly.

James sighs. "Yeah. I thought so. Could be wrong, but… Well, maybe it's left open to
interpretation. Anyway, back to it. My uncomely love knows no bounds for you. How I
perceive the world befalls my eyes. Over the stream, there is nothing to do. You beguile me,
leave me lost to my sighs."

"Stream of consciousness," Regulus mutters.

"Or, like, an actual stream?" James suggests, amused, and Regulus cranes his head down to
give James a little frown, like he's not pleased by the thought that there's no deeper meaning
to be found in that line. Oh, he's adorable. "I think the point is, the Sorcerer is listless and
bored and in love. Obviously we don't need to debate you beguile me, leave me lost to my
sighs."

Regulus' lips twitch. "No, that one is rather blunt."

"You beguile me," James murmurs, sliding his hand up Regulus' back to reach for his hair,
tucking some of it behind his ear. "Leave me lost to my sighs."

"The Sorcerer was very in love, wistfully so," Regulus comments, his eyes roaming all over
James' face.

"I'd say so." James hums and glances at the book again, lips curling up. "I have lost myself in
the storm of you. Easy be it the gentle pounding of rain." He looks up at Regulus, who
watches him curiously. "Oh, I get this one. It's—it's very easy to get swept up in someone's
storm, isn't it? Except, you know, you're really quite happy to be there, so it may be a storm,
but you feel as if it's nice. You don't even want to leave."

"Oh, is that so?" Regulus asks.

James nods seriously. "Yes, and you can't argue with me on this, you're not allowed. I'm
right." He clears his throat and starts reading again. "I have lost myself in the storm of you.
Easy be it the gentle pounding of rain. The whipping winds of your lips is my view. A fool for
you, your heart I can't gain."

"Nothing to debate," Regulus points out.

"No, maybe not, but Merlin I relate to this so much," James admits with a snort. "The
whipping winds of your lips is my view? Bloody hell, how many times did I get distracted by
your mouth and just want to snog you all the time? A fool for you, your heart I can't gain?
Again, I was an utter idiot about you and for you, and I was entirely convinced you didn't
want me."

"In your defense," Regulus mumbles, "I wasn't exactly helping, was I? Seeing as I was trying
my best to keep some sort of control on the situation by keeping my distance."

"It's alright," James assures him. "We figured it out eventually, and that's all that matters.
Right, onto the next. Don't leave me in this chasm of my love. Oh, that one. That line…"
Regulus hums in agreement. "Yes, that one. There's something truly awful about someone
begging another not to leave them. I can't think of anything more harrowing." He sways in
and lifts his hand to slip his fingers beneath James' shirt without any warning whatsoever, but
all he does is splay his fingers flat over James' hip, cold palm on hot skin. "I hated it when
you were doing it to me. Begging me not to leave. I know what it is to feel abandoned, and to
think I was doing that to you…"

"I had a bit of a panic about it," James says sheepishly. "If you had stayed, I think I still
would have been a bit of a wreck just from the stress."

"I'm sorry," Regulus replies softly, his lips brushing James' cheek. "Won't happen again."

James hides a smug smile and continues with, "Right, best not, or I'll never recover. In any
case, here we go. Don't leave me in this chasm of my love. I grant I can't escape my endless
want."

"Immediately understandable," Regulus declares.

"It is, isn't it?" James agrees with a huff of laughter. He's shameless about it, about his own
endless want for the man sitting right next to him now. He shakes his head and little and
presses a firm kiss to Regulus' shoulder, over his clothes, then finishes reading. "I'm
boundless by skies, I find you above. The cold ghost of your kiss is the only haunt; I will ache
the echo in my long sleep. You are the worldly one I wish to keep."

"Boundless by skies, finding you above," Regulus muses, tipping his head a little. "Mm, I
think that's the idea that we can go anywhere, but still find reminders of the person we love,
or yearn for, or—whatever, all that rubbish."

"No, see, that's the kind of in-depth examination I love to see, particularly on the subject of
love, because I thought the Sorcerer meant that they were just watching clouds and saw one
shaped like the one they love," James informs him.

"That's—" Regulus blinks, then chuckles, a slow spark of amusement forming in his eyes.
"Well, it's not implausible, but that's not what my mind immediately went to, personally."
"The cold ghost of your kiss is the only haunt—now, this one confuses me a bit," James
admits. "I can't work out if they've kissed or not, or if the Sorcerer literally wants it so badly
that they're haunted by the thought of it."

"I'd say it's sadder if the Sorcerer did know what it was to kiss them, only to never get the
chance because it turned out that the one they loved didn't feel the same," Regulus mutters,
his lips tipping down. "That's—worse."

James squints at him. "Don't speak like you know what that feels like. You absolutely don't.
You know what it is to kiss me, and now you can do that whenever you like. Honestly, love,
from the very first kiss, you could always kiss me whenever you liked. I can't help it that you
didn't. All that wasted time…"

"Piss off, Potter, I was just—"

"I certainly wasn't wasting time, trying to snog you every chance I could, even when we were
alone."

"I—well, that's true," Regulus concedes, scrunching his nose at James with a playful glint in
his eyes. "You were always trying to snog me."

"I'm still always trying to snog you," James says.

Regulus clicks his tongue. "So, is that it? You want me for my mouth." He pauses, clearing
his throat as James raises his eyebrows at him. "Belatedly, I realize how that sounds, but you
know, I stand by it."

"And I'm proud of you for that." James stifles a laugh and tucks his head down to capture the
edge of Regulus' shirt on his shoulder between his teeth and tug on it, pulling at the cloth
while Regulus stares at him in exasperation. James spits the cloth out with a quiet pft and
folds in to kiss away the slight wrinkles he made with his teeth. In between those kisses, he
announces, "I may have—an unhealthy obsession with—your mouth—but I would love you
—regardless—no matter what—your mouth could—and would—do."

"Is that so?"

"Mhm. Beauty won't last forever, lover. You and I can't stay this young and pretty always, so
our long-lasting relationship will one day rely on other things. Fortunately, I'm quite
enamored with every part of you, not just your beauty."

"Knowing you, you'll remain annoyingly fit all the way up until you fucking die," Regulus
complains, and James laughs helplessly, pressing his forehead to Regulus' shoulder.

"Oh, Reg," James chokes out, still chuckling as Regulus makes a low sound of amusement.
Finally, once he calms, he lifts his head, briefly glancing back at the book again. "Mm, right,
I'd like your thoughts on the cold ghost of your kiss is the only haunt; I will ache the echo in
my long sleep."

"A love so strong that it remains, even in death," Regulus murmurs. "Or, perhaps it pertains
to the kiss specifically; the desire for it, in any case, and how it's so strong it makes them
dream about it. Long sleep—I think that means death, though. So, it could be even that the
Sorcerer yearns for their love, for a kiss, so much that the feeling would still stay with them,
even when they've died."

"Yeah," James breathes out. "Yeah, exactly. That's exactly it; all of that, really. Merlin, a
feeling like that… In reality, something like that would be worrying, wouldn't it? Not even
getting to rest when you're dead, but also—loving someone that much so that you won't be
free from it, even when you're free of the world… I don't know. It's awful and romantic at the
same time, and I—well, I get it. Because I look at you and feel what I do, and I don't think it
matters if anyone remembers us after we're gone, because I'll remember us after we're gone.
I'll still feel this way when maybe I'm not even supposed to feel at all."

Regulus seems to hold his breath for a long moment, then darts his gaze to the side. James
follows it quickly, finding Evan clearly asleep, and Pandora is reading, not paying them any
attention. On her arm, there is in fact a small drawing of a chest that a cartoonish heart pushes
against, bulging out three times before bursting forth from its cage. The heart, despite having
been in the sweet shape that everyone is more familiar with while in the chest, is a very
anatomically correct depiction on the outside, complete with little blood drops and the
unnerving throb of the organ. The arms attached to the chest lift so the hands will capture the
heart and pull it right back in, where it repeats the process all over again.

James is admittedly a little distracted by this, but Regulus snags his attention once more by
digging his nails into James' hip under his shirt, not enough to hurt but enough to say, quite
clearly, pay attention to me. James does immediately, shifting focus to look at him, and the
moment he turns his head, Regulus is capturing his mouth with his own.

It's the sort of kiss that makes the world fade away, and James melts into it immediately.
Regulus rarely—almost never—will initiate a kiss in front of other people; it's usually James
who does that, or really anything in public, even around friends. Regulus always just allows it
to happen if he's willing to, or pulls away if he's not. In private, however, when it's just the
two of them—well, Regulus is much more willing to take the lead then, earnest and eager in
his wants when no one but James can see them, and oh, James likes seeing them.

This is clearly a special case, because Regulus is kissing him, and he's doing it slowly and
deeply and sweetly, so James is practically going limp from how delighted and relaxed he is
by this. Yes, yes, always yes, James chants inwardly, so simply happy, and he wonders what
he did to get this lucky in life.

"You are the worldly one I wish to keep," Regulus quotes as he rocks back, peering at him
through bright eyes, leaning back even further when James mindlessly tries to chase his
mouth. He's dangerously close to trying to crawl into Regulus' fucking lap. "Know anything
about that?"

"Oh, I know all about it. You could even say I know it intimately," James says breathlessly.

Regulus huffs a laugh and presses a kiss to his mouth, but pulls back before James can
deepen it. He strokes James' side under his shirt and gazes at him with promise, but all he
says is, "I don't doubt it. Now read me the one about Quidditch."

James—who would do anything Regulus asked of him, even rip his heart from his chest since
it belongs to him anyway—finds this request rather simple to fulfill, and so he does.
To his credit, James doesn't whisk Regulus off to his room immediately, lock the door, and
never resurface. The urge is there, but he nonetheless spends time with his parents. Well, they
all spend time together, honestly.

They all end up in the kitchen, chatting at the table in between getting up to help with supper.
Effie is doing most of it, but Sirius is helping her every chance he gets, and James dutifully
gets up to chop ingredients or watch sauces when asked. It's a bit funny that Regulus can't
really be trusted with the task of cooking, as he's never been in a position where he's needed
to learn. The first time he tries to help dice onions and nearly chops his finger off, Sirius
promptly snatches the knife from his hand and tasks him with setting the table.

James thinks there's a lot of love to be found inside a kitchen, or at least one that exists in a
home. It's a warm feeling that seems to live in the walls, passing through the air all around
them. It's in the loud laughter that Sirius draws out of Effie, the tiny smile Regulus gives
Monty when he passes by and squeezes Regulus' shoulder, the smell of good food and
promise of a good home. It's the way Effie presses a fierce kiss to James' head when she leans
past his chair to sit down a dish on the table, the playful wink Monty gives him when he
sneaks James a small bite while Effie warns him away from the stove, the light shoves and
amused bickering as Sirius and Regulus bustle around each other with easy familiarity.

Honestly, James soaks it all in. It feels good. He's having the time of his life, just being with
people he loves in his home. There's not a moment that he takes for granted.

Rather predictably, Monty and Regulus immediately get caught up talking about potions, and
James isn't surprised when they disappear after dinner to undoubtedly go work on said
potions together. Meanwhile, Sirius and James follow Effie around wherever she goes, being
all around nuisances, though she hardly minds. They help her clean up the kitchen, then quite
literally trail after her all through the house, talking her ears off, but she can't seem to get
enough.

They eventually settle down and break out chess, because Effie enjoys playing. Sirius and
James take turns, but neither of them can beat her; they've never been able to. No one in the
house can, which they've proven, because every person who's ever stayed in the house
overnight has at least played her once, and she always wins. The only person who gives her a
proper challenge is Remus, generally. She loves playing against him.
Monty and Regulus don't resurface, so James comes to the unanimous decision with his mum
and Sirius to go drag them away from whatever they're doing.

"What if they've passed out from the potion fumes?" Sirius says, snickering under his breath.

"Exactly," Effie agrees sagely. "We're only saving them from themselves."

"They need us," James points out.

It goes unsaid that they simply miss them, but James is acutely aware, and he's not even
ashamed of it. As for Regulus and Monty, they have not even noticed that hours have passed
at all, and they've no interest in being interrupted. Even Effie hits a brick wall, because
Monty gets huffy and lines up three stools, making them all sit and wait.

It takes Sirius less than five minutes to get bored and start tossing balled-up pieces of
parchment at Regulus' head. Helplessly (and a bit immaturely), James laughs quietly with
Sirius about this, only to immediately cut himself off and look innocent when Regulus glares
over at them. As soon as he looks away, Effie tosses one as well, but right at Monty.

"Euphemia," Monty says sharply.

"Yes, Fleamont?" Effie replies sweetly.

"I know that was you."

"I haven't the faintest what you mean. It was Sirius."

Sirius sputters. "I—what? No, it wasn't! It was James."

"Yeah, Dad, it was me," James agrees. "Having a go at Mum, and she didn't even do
anything."

"She's always doing something," Monty mutters, stooping over the cauldron to drop some
sort of leaf in while Regulus slowly, with care, stirs the ladle, a frown of concentration on his
face that James is honestly desperate to kiss, at this point.

Effie clicks her tongue. "And what do you mean by that, Flea?"

"Oh, you know," Monty replies distractedly, but his lips twitch up at the corners. "If you'd all
just give us…"

"Five minutes, I should think," Regulus murmurs.

"Right, five minutes, and then we'll be able to put it on stasis and wait until tomorrow to
finish it," Monty finishes.

"That's five minutes too long," James complains.

"You'll live," Regulus replies blandly.

James does, in fact, live. It's a long five minutes, but as promised, Regulus and Monty stow
the potion and finally emerge to join them. They all reconvene in the sitting room, where
Regulus agrees to play a round of chess with Effie while Sirius and James spend a solid two
hours, at least, retelling each Quidditch match in the year so far to Monty.

It gets late. So late that Monty is dozing off sitting up and Effie is starting to yawn. Even after
they stumble off to go to bed, leaving off with goodnights and hugs and cheek-kisses, the
younger of the bunch stay up a little longer anyway. Sirius and Regulus play a round of chess
while James watches in interest, curious as to who will win between them. It ends in a
stalemate, a draw, which James finds oddly fitting.

"Where are you off to?" Sirius asks curiously when Regulus stands up.

"Bed," Regulus replies simply. He leans over and gives James a quick kiss on the mouth, then
straightens up and walks away without looking back. "I'm tired. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Sirius and James chorus, though James stares after him with a small frown, his
brain sort of turning over with a thought that hasn't even fully formed. "This is about to be
absolute Hell."

James blinks and looks at Sirius. "What is?"

"This first week without Remus," Sirius says with a wistful sigh. "Peter's coming in four
days. Do you reckon we can get Remus here sooner? What if I begged his mum? She likes
me, doesn't she? Well, she doesn't know he and I are—but, well, I don't have to mention that
bit. It's not as if I wouldn't want him here if we were only mates."

"I mean, you can...try," James says carefully. "But you know how Mrs. Lupin is. She wants
him to spend at least half the break at home, and I'm sure she gets lonely sometimes since Mr.
Lupin is always working."

"I reckon I could always visit, couldn't I?" Sirius muses, his eyebrows furrowed. He stares off
into the distance for a long moment, and then his eyes widen. "Oh, fucking hell."

"What?" James asks, alarmed.

Sirius groans and buries his face in his hands. A beat later, he looks up and stares at James in
despair. "Hit me. Prongs, hit me right now. Just punch me in the fucking face."
"I—what? No. Why?" James blurts out in disbelief.

"Because I'm an idiot who deserves to be hit in the face. Remus tried to invite me to come see
him for the break, and I didn't realize, James," Sirius whines. "I completely brushed him off!
Oh, I didn't—oh, I'm so stupid. He makes me so stupid."

"I mean, it's only a week," James says gently. "He'll be here after that, so it's not—"

"No, I—I know, but I think he—" Sirius squeezes his eyes shut and hangs his head. "It's
just… He hasn't invited me over since I—since what happened with Snape, and I think it
means something that he did. Something important. And I just missed the entire fucking
point. Besides, it's his mum, too. I think it'd make him happy to see us getting on well, even if
he wouldn't tell her about us. He just invited me over for a day, I think, but I genuinely didn't
realize, and—and of course he just let it go, but it must have upset him. Oh, I'm so—"

"Well, just go anyway," James cuts in.

"I—" Sirius blinks open his eyes. "Oh, I could do that, couldn't I? Brilliant, James. Cheers,
now I'll actually be able to fucking sleep tonight."

James chuckles. "Don't fret about it, mate. Come on, let's get some sleep, then. You can go
tomorrow, yeah? Or just floo-call him and find out when the best time is."

"Right, right," Sirius agrees, shaking his head at himself, still looking mildly flustered. Only
Remus Lupin makes him lose all sense like this. James finds it adorable.

They head to bed together, then split off with mumbled goodnights. Sirius' room is right next
to James', while Regulus' room is across the hall from Sirius'. James pauses at his door,
glancing at Regulus' with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, his brain hard at work and
coming up with not much at all. The door is shut, and it's silent behind it, not a glow of light
from the crack underneath.
In the end, James bangs his head against his own door, stifling a groan, willing himself not to
be a fucking disgrace. With truly commendable strength, he forces himself to open his door,
shut it behind him, then go to bed.

All of this becomes rather obsolete less than an hour later when James is still very awake,
staring up into the dark without seeing anything, consciously fighting the impulse to go sneak
into Regulus' bed. He's likely sleeping, for Merlin's sake, and here James is, having—
thoughts. Yes, those pesky, persistent things. They won't go away, and he turns over to bury
his face into his pillow with a muffled groan.

His head pops open a moment later when he hears a very quiet, very gentle click that barely
even reaches his ears. Even without his glasses and in the dead dark of night, James knows
instantly who it is. The way he subconsciously holds his breath and how his heart flutters
tells him before he even thinks to look, like his body is simply aware of Regulus the moment
he comes near. It's inexplicable and wild, but it is nonetheless true, because Regulus is sliding
into his bed only seconds later.

They don't talk. There's no talking at all. It's just Regulus' mouth finding his in the dark, and
it unravels from there.

Slow, natural, real.

The break treats them all well, James would say.

Sirius does actually disappear to the Lupins for most of the second day, then returns with a
notable bounce in his step, so he and Remus are indeed fine (as James knew they would be).
Peter shows up three days later, and he's only staying eight out of the remaining eleven days
of the break. James and Peter go with Sirius to support him in picking out a motorbike (one
he has all plans to make fly), but Regulus chooses to have no part of what he's labeled as a
'complete disaster waiting to happen'.

A few days after Peter arrives, Remus shows up, much to the delight of pretty much
everyone. Even Regulus seems pleased that there's someone else around to make sure Sirius,
Peter, and James don't do ridiculous things for the fun of it. What he doesn't know is that
Remus is just as bad, but better about hiding it—and alright, he is the one who steps in when
the threat of fatal wounds comes into the mix...most of the time.

In any case, as promised, Remus escorts them to the cinema his first night over. They stay out
late after, popping into the Leaky Cauldron for chips and drinks, chatting and wasting the
night away for no other reason than because they want to. By the time they make it back
home, it's so late that they all go their separate ways to their own rooms.

Of course, James doesn't stay in his room. He sneaks across the hall into Regulus' the first
chance he gets, as he's been doing literally since the first night. Since Regulus initiated it,
James has kept up the tradition in reverse. Why they're sneaking, James wouldn't be able to
say; he doubts that his parents would care, seeing as they're technically adults. Perhaps it's for
Sirius' benefit—not that he isn't supportive of their happiness, but James doesn't doubt that
he'd rather not know the details of this particular happiness, no more than Regulus wants to
know about Remus and Sirius' shagging habits. It's a bit of a respect thing, and also there is a
tiny thrill in sneaking about, despite the fact that they don't have to.

Generally, James doesn't sneak back into his own room. He wakes up before everyone
anyway, so he goes to help his dad, another early-riser, with breakfast. He does, however,
sneak out in the middle of the night sometimes to get Regulus a drink from the kitchen. He
tends to get thirsty, and James never makes him get up, insisting he stay right in bed where
he's at, lazy and relaxed and visibly pleased with himself.

Tonight is one such night, and James is always so very careful to be quiet. Being the sneaky,
mischievous bloke that he is, he enjoys the mixture of amusement and excitement he gets
from slipping out and tip-toeing around his own house. He's never been caught before, either.

Yet, when he turns away from the door tonight, he freezes in place the moment he locks eyes
with Remus, who is visibly sneaking out of Sirius' room right across from him.

Remus looks at him.

James looks back.

For a long moment, neither of them move or blink or anything. It's a bit surreal and absurd
the way they're both frozen, caught in the act of doing the same exact thing. As one, they
both just reach back and grip the handles without breaking eye contact, easing the doors open
as they slowly back up into the room behind them. James stifles an absurd laugh and leans
against the door for a moment, then swivels back around to shuffle his way back to bed.

"That was fast," Regulus mumbles.

"I—didn't go," James admits stiltedly, and Regulus lifts his head off the pillow to squint at
him suspiciously. His hair is a rumpled mess around his head, and James has to distract him,
but he fortunately knows exactly how to do that. "Are you still thirsty? Here, let me snog you,
that'll help."

"James, how would that help?"

"Dunno, really, but let's find out."

Regulus wrenches back when James genuinely tries to kiss him, so James ducks his head and
starts pressing gentle kisses along his shoulder. "You didn't get me something to drink? Why?
You always get me something to drink."

"I know. I'm a lovely boyfriend," James murmurs, casually mouthing his way closer to
Regulus' neck.

"You can't just set the standard, and then change it," Regulus grumbles, pushing James' head
away as he props up to grab his wand. There's an empty glass on the stand right next to it that
he picks up. "Aguamenti."

James blinks, watching him drink it. "Now why didn't I think of that?"

"Mm," Regulus hums, swallowing with a quiet sigh of relief before sitting the glass and wand
aside again, "because you fancy yourself a chivalrous bloke, don't you, Potter?"
"Have you been letting me go off and get you something to drink instead of just doing that
this whole time?"

"Yes."

"You didn't think to suggest it?"

"I wanted to see how long it would take for you to think of it. Besides, you like doing things
for me. It makes you feel accomplished. I like having things done for me. See, it all works
out, doesn't it?"

"Reg," James says.

"Yes?" Regulus replies.

James leans in until their noses are nearly touching. "You're mean. That was mean."

"Not really," Regulus protests lightly. "You go off on your self-imposed quest of importance
to quench my thirst, then return triumphant, where I thank you, shower you with praise, and
show my appreciation—all things that please you very much, which I'm generally in favor of,
because I'm a lovely boyfriend. Furthermore, the desired end result is the same. I get my
drink, and you inevitably shag me again. Win."

"I—" James stops and thinks about that for a long moment, and he has no arguments, so he
settles for, "You're still mean."

"Shag me about it," Regulus replies.

"Yeah, alright," James agrees and leans in to catch him in a deep kiss, because he doesn't
have to be told twice, not when it comes to that.

There are less than two months left at Hogwarts following the hols, and they're spent in a
frantic rush of studying and stress as those in their final year get closer and closer to facing
the fact that their time at Hogwarts is about to end and their lives outside it is about to start,
and there's no way to stop it.

For James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus, this hits particularly hard. Hogwarts brought them all
together, and they've had more than their fair share of memories, personal growth, and life
changes here—both among themselves and with others. It is, for many people, a home. For
them, especially, it is the home that their bond was forged in, and to have to say goodbye to it
is much, much harder than any of them were anticipating.

Closer to the final exams, Remus and Peter become stressed enough that they don't care to be
particularly kind, quick to snap and even quicker to distance themselves for some peace and
quiet. James and Sirius even put in actual effort with classes and studying the closer it gets to
exams, but they're also sensitive enough that it stings when Remus and Peter won't shower
them with attention.

For Sirius and Remus, especially, this causes issues. James misses when they were shagging
all the time, but Remus is now neglecting his 'tire Sirius out and help him relax' duties in
favor of focusing on his future, which is rather fair of him, actually. Sirius feels neglected all
the way around, which makes him moody, but of course he struggles to vocalize this, and it
doesn't take him very long to make it all his fault. So, like it's old times, Sirius crawls into
bed with James frequently to stress and be generally upset, convinced that he's done
something wrong, or maybe Remus is simply bored of him.

James is fine with reassuring him, but he does eventually reach the point where he feels like
it's Remus' job to do so. Not very many times in James' life (he really can't think of one) has
he gone to Remus to ever scold him, and this isn't really that, but it's as close as it'll ever get,
he's sure.
"Remus," James says firmly, locating him in one of the secret passages they've memorized by
this point.

"Go away, Prongs, I'm busy," Remus replies distractedly, flipping furiously through his book,
eyebrow furrowed in concentration. He doesn't mean it maliciously, and James knows that, so
he isn't taking the response personally.

"Remus," James repeats sharply, an edge to his tone, which does immediately grab Remus'
attention.

His head snaps up. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Sirius," James declares, staring at him.

"Sirius?" Remus responds, nearly dropping his book, and the fear that flashes in his eyes
makes James feel a little bad. "Is he alright? Has something happened?"

James heaves a sigh and crouches down in front of him to get eye-level. "Mate, I understand
you're really focused right now, and you're working on things that are important. I get that.
You have every right to study as hard as you are. Just—I'd ask you not to forget that Sirius is
important, too."

"I—" Remus blinks, his eyebrows tugging together. He looks genuinely baffled by this.
"Sorry, what? I...haven't forgotten? Of course he's—well, you hardly need to tell me, James.
What are you on about?"

"He misses you," James says softly.

"Oh," Remus replies, equally as soft.

James offers him a sad smile. "You forget how loved you are, mate. It pains me sometimes, if
I'm honest. Just talk to him, yeah? Do something—interactive, I don't know. I'm not saying
you have to set aside your studying, but maybe let him help? I think he'd just be happy to do
it with you."

"I'm isolating myself again, aren't I?" Remus asks wearily.

"A bit," James admits.

Remus heaves a sigh. "Sorry. Wasn't trying to."

"It's alright. Wanting to be alone…" James scrunches up his face. "Well, alright, I don't really
get it, because I never really do, but I can respect that some people enjoy it. Sirius doesn't, as
you know. I've got him. You know that, you know I'll take care of him, just the same as he
takes care of me; it's just that sometimes there's something else we need that we can only
really find with certain people. For Sirius, that's you."

"I miss him, too," Remus murmurs, frowning like he's just now realizing it, like he's finally
given himself the chance to slow down and identify the source of his yearning.

"Well," James says, raising his eyebrows, "he's moping about in the dorm. Peter is studying
with Lily, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, and I'm heading to go meet with them. All of that is to
say, the dorm will be empty for the next few hours."

"I could—I mean, a small break wouldn't hurt," Remus mumbles, darting his gaze to his book
while he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

James bites back a grin. "No, I rather think it'd be good for you, and Sirius." He winks and
pops back up, his work here officially done. "Alright, I'll be off. Have fun."

"Thank you, James," Remus calls after him, and James doesn't have to look at him to know
he's smiling fondly.
"Anytime, Moony," James calls back, smiling as well.

They don't really find a balance after that, admittedly, because life is rarely so simple, and it's
easy to get caught up in stress and the personal fears that exist in one's head. However, it is
blatant that Remus puts in more effort to at least verbally express that, yes, he misses Sirius,
and yes, he loves Sirius; this helps Sirius immensely, who also puts in the effort to stop
internalizing every single thing and worrying that he's a force of destruction that will ruin
everything good in his life he so desperately wants to hold onto. Oh, and he starts helping
Remus study without constantly trying to distract him from it. Well, it's not as often, James
thinks. Sometimes Sirius does succeed in dragging Remus away from his books, but Remus
never really seems to mind, so that's just as well.

They all do inevitably make it through exams, somehow surviving past them when they all
questioned at least once if they would. Peter, Marlene, and Lily all are so emotionally and
mentally exhausted that they legitimately break down and cry once they've finished their last,
which leads to everyone else coddling them for a bit, because it's very relatable and they all
understand the feeling. But, the important bit is, they survive.

Following exams, however, there is no rest for the wicked. By this, James means himself and
his best friends. It's their last year coming to a close, which of course means they have to plan
one final, legendary prank. In a complete role reversal, Sirius and James are now the ones
hard at work while Remus and Peter are trying to make sure they stay certifiably sane for the
duration of the plotting that follows.

Obviously they're going to throw a massive party, that goes without saying, and they've
already had that planned. No, this? This is it. This is their final goodbye, the last ever chaos
conducted by them within this castle, and it has to be perfect. James and Sirius want it to
never be forgotten; they want people to know about it for years to come; they want to leave a
permanent mark at Hogwarts more than they already have.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" James hisses as they shuffle out of Honeydukes to rush
towards Hog's Head, sticking close together as they sneak through the dim light of evening as
it slips off closer into the night.
"This is the worst idea we've ever had," Remus replies flatly. "Do we even know anything
about this man?"

"Other than the fact that he's quite literally the shadiest character I've ever met?" Sirius
prompts. "No, not at all."

"You inspire such confidence, Sirius," Remus mutters under his breath, and James has to
stifle a laugh.

Sirius half-turns and winks at him. "Don't I always?"

"Remember," Peter mumbles, his hand braced on the door to the Hog's Head when they reach
it, "let Sirius and I do the talking. James, you're too nice, and he'll swindle you with ease if he
tries hard enough. Remus, you have the 'scarier when silent' thing going for you, so stick with
that for now."

Remus and James grumble their agreement, but it's Sirius and Peter who have connections to
this bloke anyway, so they're taking the lead on the meeting with him. Why they both know a
smuggling, thieving criminal so well, James isn't sure, but it's helpful at the moment, so he's
not going to question it.

Mundungus Fletcher is not at all what James was expecting, mostly because he's disguised
and dressed up as a witch, complete with a dress and a very big, very floppy hat. This
surprises them, but they rather take it in stride, because who are they to say Mundungus
Fletcher can't dress up like a woman in his free time? Of course, Mundungus then goes on to
explain that he has to show up to the Hog's Head in disguise, seeing as Aberforth banned him
from the place a little over a year ago. He insists it wasn't his fault, but he nonetheless doesn't
want to risk Aberforth's wrath.

The meeting is fairly short. There's an exchange of galleons in a pouch from one hand to
another, and Mundungus seems more than happy that they're taking the large chest under the
table off his hands. He explains for a few minutes that he had no idea what he was going to
do with it or how he'd make a profit off of it, so he's rather grateful for all of them. After
finishing a round of drinks, Mundungus begs off, and it isn't long before the chest is being
dragged from underneath the table and lifted with four oomphs of surprise, because
apparently using magic on it won't work.
"Bloody hell," James wheezes five minutes later, as they all stand outside and take a minute,
"this is fucking heavy. How did Mundungus drag it around?"

"You'd be surprised what people will do for money, mate," Remus says wearily.

James exhales heavily. "Right. Well, fuck this, yeah? I'm going at it as Prongs, and you can
all just tie it off to me and help me pull it. Anyone around right now?"

"Not a soul," Peter assures him, nodding in the direction of a small alleyway for him to dart
into.

After James runs into the alley, Prongs comes galloping out only a few minutes later. It's
much easier to drag the chest back to Hogwarts with a very large stag pulling most of the
weight, but they take the passage through the Shrieking Shack back instead of Honeydukes.
Sirius darts out from the passage as Padfoot to go calm the Whomping Willow so that Peter,
Remus, and Prongs can actually get the chest out. Sirius pops back up to help them, and not
for the first time, James wishes that Prongs had thumbs.

The next step is to get the chest to the lake, which they all take care of as quickly and quietly
as possible. It's dark out now, and they're out way past curfew at this point, so getting caught
is the last thing they wish to do, particularly while they're doing this. James hides behind his
friends to change back, the four of them dragging the chest the last few inches past the bank
into the water, watching it bob lazily.

"Ready?" James asks, hands on the clasps as he glances around at everyone.

"Ready," is the whispered response from everyone else.

James takes a deep breath, then lifts the clasps on the chest and raises the lid. Immediately, a
large tentacle pokes out the edge, slipping over into the water. It's a very long tentacle that
keeps spilling out for a startling amount of time. James readily stumbles back with the others
as they all watch in silence as a giant squid unfurls from the chest it absolutely should not
have fit in at all, though magic seems to have helped somehow.

It rapidly sinks further into the lake, dipping below the surface, loud splashes echoing out as
the giant squid moves its tentacles as it likes. It seems to be excited about all the room it has
now, which is part of the reason they did this, seeing as the poor thing was apparently left in
cramped environments when it came into Mundungus' possession.

"Should we name it?" Sirius breathes out, sounding awed as one of the tentacles wraps
around the chest and gently deposits it on the bank right in front of them as if to politely say
thank you, never put me in there again.

"That's just asking to give ourselves away," Peter replies.

Remus blows out a deep breath. "They're going to go mental when they discover this in the
morning."

"And then we go into phase two," James declares.

Sirius is quiet for a long beat, then he says, "It seems happy, doesn't it? Do you reckon they'll
take it out? Look at it."

They all look at it. The giant squid does seem rather happy in the distance, splashing in the
water, waving its tentacles in a way that reminds James vaguely of people who take their hats
off and wave them wildly in excitement. He has to fight the urge to lift his hand and wave
back, and it's so absurd that he can only stifle a laugh. Oh, they've snuck a fucking giant
squid into the Great Lake at Hogwarts. They're insane.

"Suppose we'll find out," Peter murmurs. "Come on, lads, we need to go in. We have to be
ready for tomorrow."
The next step takes place the following morning when fireworks go off over the lake and rain
down toast for the giant squid, which draws it to the surface. It doesn't take very long before
practically the entire castle is outside to examine the new addition to the lake and watch the
show, including baffled Professors and one very agitated caretaker of Hogwarts by the name
of Argus Filch, who holds Mrs. Norris like he's worried the giant squid might reach out and
take her for a meal.

That's one of the most important parts of this whole thing, because if he—and everyone else
—is there, then that means no one's in his office. This allows them to sneak right in and get
their beloved map back, and it's almost so easy to pull off that it's sort of disappointing. They
also steal everything Filch has confiscated throughout the entire year and have plans to leave
them all around the castle, or return them to their original owners if they happen to know who
it belonged to. It goes so smoothly that it hardly even feels like a victory to steal the map
back.

Nonetheless, they are pleased to have it back.

"It is a bit sad that we'll have to wait for our child to put it to good use again," Peter admits
with a sigh, flipping through the map as they all crowd around it and gaze at it in pride.

"It's meant for Hogwarts, really," Remus agrees. "What good will it do us when we're not
even here?"

"We worked so hard on it, though," Sirius mumbles.

Remus hums. "Yes, but it is a shame it won't be used for mischief anymore. Think about why
we made it, Padfoot."

"Our legacy," James whispers with a fake sniffle. "It deserves to be used. The chaos we
would support through this map… It'd be like we're still causing mischief even when we're
gone."

"So, what, we gift it to someone else?" Sirius muses.

"But what about our child?" Peter asks, stressed.

James thinks about that for a second. "Well, we obviously could tell them about it. Our child,
I mean. It'll be like a rite of passage for them to find it and get it for themselves."

"How will they know who has it?"

"Follow the chaos."

"What if Filch filches it again?" Remus asks.

Sirius huffs a laugh. "Well, they'll just have to steal it, won't they? Surely our child will have
no trouble with that."

"Alright, but who would we give it to?" Peter asks.

There's a long beat of silence as they all think about it, and James straightens up abruptly,
snapping his gaze towards Sirius, who stares back. After a beat, Sirius' eyes widen, and he
starts shaking his head immediately. "No. Absolutely not."

"Why?!" James protests. "It would be perfect. It would...also help with sneaking out."

"I'm not giving this map to my brother just so he can use the passages to get to Hogsmeade to
see you because you miss your boyfriend," Sirius hisses. "I refuse."

"But—"
"No."

"Sirius," James whines.

"He's not even—he won't use it for proper chaos! He's not mischievous at all," Sirius
complains.

Remus purses his lips. "Did he or did he not pop people into the lake when they provoked
him?"

"Wasn't it him that snogged James in front of the entire Great Hall?" Peter adds.

"And he's always sneaking about to the astronomy tower," James says. "Oh, and remember
what he did for his last Quidditch match? I'd say he's actually really mischievous."

"And—and it makes sense," Remus continues sheepishly, because Sirius looks like he's in
pain. "He's your brother and James' boyfriend. I'd trust him to pass it along to someone who
would use it properly, someone who would continue to pass it on to the fellow mischief
makers."

"Besides," Peter announces cheerfully, "it means we get to hold onto it over the summer.
Then we can bestow it upon him like it's a form of knighthood."

Sirius groans. "I'm outvoted, aren't I?"

"Afraid so," Remus says, amused, and he huffs out a fond laugh when Sirius scowls at him.
"Don't pout. I'm sure he'll make you very proud."

"He's going to use it to sneak out and see James," Sirius says flatly, and James smiles
innocently when Sirius narrows his eyes at him. Peter stifles a laugh.
Remus chuckles and reaches out to slip his arm around Sirius' shoulders, drawing him into
his side. "Yes, maybe so, but that means you'll also be able to visit him when you like outside
of the holidays and Hogsmeade weekends. Don't deny it, you'll come see him just as often."

Sirius grumbles under his breath, but it's all fake; he can't deny it, and they all know it.

"I'm giving him my cloak," James admits.

"What?" Peter blurts out, eyes wide.

James shrugs when they all stare at him. "Better chances he won't get caught when sneaking
out to see me. It's the least I could do, really. Besides, I'll get it back when he graduates."

"You're in love, James," Remus says.

"Yes," James agrees.

"Oh, I hate this," Sirius whispers, closing his eyes tight and lying his head over on Remus'
shoulder. "I don't want it to be over. I don't want this to end."

Peter folds up the map, sighing sadly, and they all shuffle closer together in heavy silence.
None of them are handling this well at all, to be completely honest. James doesn't think
they've ever been this dreadfully clingy with each other before; he didn't know it was possible
to be clingier than they've all been, and yet here they are.

It's not so much the worry that their bonds with each other won't be the same, because they've
all done a lot of reassuring each other when they probably didn't even really need to, but this
is a chapter of their lives closing that they'll never be able to open again. Sure, they'll have a
new beginning together in other ways, without a doubt, but the finality of this is something
they all mourn together.
"Come on," James murmurs, "we still have five more phases to get through before we're
finished. If it has to end, then we'll make it one we'll bloody well be proud of."

And that's exactly what they do.

The last queer club meeting takes place the day before everyone is due to leave for home, and
for those who are in their last year, this is a bittersweet event.

Lily and James have come together to announce that the queer club will continue the next
year with McGonagall's help, and they essentially elected Regulus, Pandora, Evan, Barty, and
Clive to be the ones to work with her on scheduling them. It was mostly for reassurance,
because some people were worried, but James and Lily make it clear that the queer club will
carry on for a long, long time. For decades. Forever.

Nonetheless, countless people have come to those that are graduating to tell them they will
miss them, and as the night carries on, there's really no dry eye in the room. Everyone has
cried at least once, or came very close to it. James has even seen Barty and Regulus get
dangerously close at one point when standing with Dorcas; Pandora shamelessly sobbed so
much that they'd all huddled around her, and Evan shed more than a few tears he quickly
swiped away.

James knows it's rough on them, seeing Dorcas go. He can't imagine how that would feel,
having to return to Hogwarts as a group, feeling one short at all times. He's never been
ignorant to the love they all have for each other, so his heart pangs in sympathy every time he
sees them all hovering around Dorcas. Their bond won't be broken either, James knows, but
that doesn't mean they aren't mourning, too.

They've all had the big talks about staying in contact, about writing and visiting, constantly
offering one another many reassurances and making promises they have no way of being sure
they'll keep until they actually do—or don't. A lot of people are closing a lot of books tonight,
but the books are beloved, and there's so many more to be opened.
"I wish we all lived in a village together and saw each other every day," Pandora announces,
blowing her nose rather violently into a tissue. At least she's not chewing on strands of her
hair again, which James wasn't aware she had a habit of doing when upset until her friends
repeatedly reached out to stop her. They keep bringing up a hairball, but no one asks because
it seems rude while she's crying.

"Oh, we'll all see each other again, I'm sure of it," Marlene says, rubbing her arm, because
she's also found her way to comforting Pandora. She's sporting puffy eyes of her own.

"I will hunt all of you down and force you to see me," Sirius declares. "Each and every single
one of you shits. No one will be safe. Absolutely none of you."

Mary chuckles and sweeps her hand up and down Lily's hair where her head is resting on her
shoulder. Lily has also been rather emotional, crying both from happy memories revisited and
from the pang of saying goodbye to Hogwarts. "We'll all see each other again, because we're
all going to meet up at least once a month in some pub, if nothing else. Or just show up at
each other's flats. Don't think I won't crawl through your windows if you haven't responded to
my owls in enough time, or you're ignoring my floo calls."

"Christ, we should implement telephones," Lily mumbles with a weak laugh. "At least half of
them would be enthralled."

"Introduce them to the telly," Mary adds with a hum, sharing a grin with Lily. "They'd think it
was magic."

"How do they get the people in the box?" Lily teases, and they both burst out laughing.

James clicks his tongue. "I've the feeling we're all being mocked at the moment. I know what
a telephone is. I've seen telephone boxes."

"I know what a telly is," Pandora adds. "I take Muggle Studies."
"What's a telly?" Barty whispers to her.

"A box with tiny people in it," Pandora whispers back.

Barty blinks. "How do they get the—" He halts, putting his hands on his hips as Lily and
Mary wheeze from how hard they're laughing. "Well, it's a fair question!"

"Oh, I'm going to miss this," Peter says with a deep sigh. His nose is red, because he has also
been a bit weepy, on and off. He and James have taken turns on crying while bringing up old
memories from the previous years.

"I'm sure we all will, Peter," Remus murmurs.

Evan huffs. "Would all of you stop acting as if this is the end of our lives as we know it?
We'll all carry on as normal. It'll be different, but I suspect most of us will all be involved.
Half of you are shagging each other as it is."

"He...has a point," Dorcas agrees with a small smile. "We're all rather tied up with each other.
I don't think we have anything to worry about, really."

"I'm not dating anyone," Pandora says, sniffling.

"Oh, that's alright," Peter replies kindly. "Neither am I."

"I'm dating Evan, but he doesn't know it yet," Barty announces, to which Evan rolls his eyes.
"Does that count?"

"No," Evan answers for him.

Barty purses his lips. "I really can't tell if we're still pretending to play roles as Regulus and
James anymore."

"That's what you get for doing so," Regulus mutters, raising his eyebrows at Barty. "You two
keep messing about pretending, and you'll see what happens. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I'm confused," James admits.

Pandora laughs softly, which is an improvement to her crying, so James is glad he said it.
"Oh, well, we all teased Regulus a bit when he announced that you two were dating again.
We mocked him by reminding him of all the ridiculous things he said, and Barty pretended to
be you begging to be with Evan, who pretended to be Regulus. They've been joking about
it."

"No, yeah, be careful with that," James warns, raising his hands in surrender. "That's a
dangerous game to play, mate. Take it from someone who knows."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Regulus asks, swiveling his head to narrow his eyes at
James.

"Or, you know, don't be careful. Do it," James corrects instantly. "I don't regret doing it at
all."

"Oh, really?" Lily challenges, raising her head to stare at him.

James is sweating. "I mean, well, obviously I regret that it had anything to do with you, Lily.
I don't regret that it led me to the love of my life, though."

"I thought I was the love of your life?" Sirius challenges.

"I—I'm so—please stop, I'm stressed. Remus," James begs, whipping towards him for help.
Remus' lips twitch. "Alright, alright, leave him be."

"Yes, thank you," James agrees hopefully, breaking out into a lopsided grin when they all
start laughing.

"This is nice, you know," Marlene comments when they've all calmed. She's fiddling
mindlessly with the ring on her thumb, the one Dorcas gave her, a tiny smile on her face. "I
just mean, us all being together like this on the last night, reminiscing and making future
plans. It's good."

"Yeah," they all agree, and it is.

It really is.

Late at night, when the sky is full of stars and the lake is still, there's an untethered sensation
that you're floating in space. That's what Regulus says, in any case. James himself always
feels so deeply tied to everything around him, as if he can reach out and cup the stars in his
palm and sprinkle them into the lake, like it's all within reach and his to hold. He's so very
present as he exists, feeling and being, and it can get rather overwhelming at times. He never
realized until he found that he can appreciate the calm that Regulus often grants him.

James is not a person who escapes. He lives in every moment to the full extent, and he never
knew how exhausting and stressful that could be. Regulus is his escape from all that. His safe
haven. The home he can't wait to get back to, the sigh of relief after a long day, the easy pull
of sleep that promises a taste of sweet, sweet oblivion.

In turn, Regulus is someone who escapes. He's a runner. He drifts at a distance from himself,
and he sometimes can't find his way back, even when he might wish to because it's cold and
lonely. James is his guiding light. His warmth to lean into. He grounds him, gives him a safe
place to land, builds the bridge to happiness stone by stone with a foundation so steady that it
will hold him however many times he walks across it.
For all their differences, they're also really alike, James knows. They both have a persistent
desire to be enough, even if this desire manifests in different ways. It seems almost fated that
they would be more than enough for one another. Just looking at Regulus is enough for
James, pleased with his presence.

Sometimes, James gazes at Regulus and thinks he'd be content to do so forever. There's a
story his mum used to tell him about when he was a child. The one where a woman fell in
love with a portrait of a man that never spoke. He simply sat in the frame, looking out the
window of the room he was painted in, as if there was another world to see that no one else
knew about. Every day, the woman would sit with that portrait and gaze upon his beauty, and
she fell in love.

She lived her life in love with that portrait, for the man in it, or the version of him she created
in her head; she was content to spend the rest of her life with that silent stroke of paint, and
she did. When she died, the man in the portrait spoke for the very first time to ask that her
portrait be moved to the same room as his, so that they could gaze upon each other still.

Looking at Regulus, James thinks he gets that. What it is to look at another person and think
oh, I could look at you forever. For him, it's stargazing. It's precious to him.

Regulus may hang in the sky tonight, or not, but Regulus as James has come to love is
content under the sky. He looks peaceful, but he often does when he's at the astronomy tower,
staring up at the stars. James isn't surprised that he's here on the last night; he wasn't at all
surprised when he saw Regulus' name moving towards the tower on the map; he hopes that
Regulus won't be surprised that James, as always, followed.

Slowly, with care, James slips his cloak off. Regulus jolts at the movement, huffing out a
harsh breath, startled, but the tension drains out of him the moment he realizes what's going
on. His face softens as soon as James smiles at him.

"You should be in bed," Regulus murmurs, propping up his hands against the rail instead of
his elbows, his arms held out straight. "I assumed you would be."
James hums idly and moves over to wrap his arms around Regulus' front, tugging his back
against his chest. Regulus goes willingly, lifting his hands from the rail to slide them along
James' arms instead as he leans back into him. "I could say the same to you, but you're here."

"How did you know I was here?" Regulus murmurs.

"Don't you know? I'll always find you," James whispers playfully, ducking his head to bite
and nibble teasingly at that spot on Regulus' neck behind his ear. James has discovered that it
draws out an involuntary giggle from Regulus and makes his shoulder curl up as he tries to
squirm from it.

Regulus does exactly that now, huffing the moment his abrupt giggle cuts off. "Oh, stop that.
How many times have I—"

"You love it," James cuts in knowingly, because he knows. That's one of his favorite spots. If
he puts his mouth on it enough, they'll be shagging in five minutes flat.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, James," Regulus declares, pinching the skin on the back
of his arms, lightly tugging on the hair there. "How did you know I was here?"

"I followed my heart," James says, pressing a smile against Regulus' hair as he groans.
"What? Oh, come off it, that one wasn't too soppy. That was romantic, Reg."

"You sicken me," Regulus mumbles.

"Mm, I don't believe I do, actually," James replies with confidence. "I think you find me
charming."

"James," Regulus complains, dangerously close to whining, which James always finds rather
adorable and delightful the more he does it, "won't you just tell me? What is it? There has to
be a way. You can't possibly just know."
"One day, you'll know," James murmurs. "Just not tonight. It's our last night here, lover. Let
me have this with you."

"Why did you have to mention that?" Regulus asks softly, leaning back into him more firmly.

James sighs. "Sorry. Will you miss me?"

"No," Regulus answers, because he's a lying liar who lies, and James laughs helplessly
anyway, because he's a smitten fool who loves when his boyfriend is mean to him. "I—well,
obviously I'll… Well, you already know, James."

"I do," James admits. "It doesn't hurt to hear it. Remind me?"

"I'll miss you," Regulus whispers. "I miss you already."

"We still have the summer," James says quietly. "We have that, and I promise I'll write and
visit all the time."

Regulus is silent for a long beat, then he sounds a bit petulant and subdued when he mutters,
"It won't be the same."

"All the other things that change can't change us," James tells him earnestly. "Not how we
feel about each other."

"No, but you'll be busy," Regulus argues. "You—you'll be starting your life while I'm stuck
here, and—"

"Regulus—"
"I'll be missing it, James. I'll be stuck here while you go on and begin your career and making
a life for yourself, but I'm—"

"Regulus—"

"I'm still doing this, so I'll be left behind while you—"

James steps back to grab Regulus' shoulders and firmly turn him around, sharply saying,
"Regulus, stop it. Alright? Just stop. Whether you are here or right next to me, I'm not leaving
you behind. No, I won't put my life on pause—

"You shouldn't have to," Regulus rasps. "I don't want you to."

"I know, and I'm not going to," James continues, his voice softening. "You're not going to
miss anything, because I'll tell you absolutely everything, just like I'm going to need you to
tell me all the things you get up to while I'm not here. I won't be making a life for myself,
Regulus. I'll just have a little bit of a head start on you with making a life for us. That's all it
is."

"What if—" Regulus halts, his lips pressing together. There's a frown between his eyebrows,
and James can see his throat rise and fall on a harsh swallow. He seems to take a moment,
then nods stiffly. "We'll be alright, won't we?"

"Yes," James promises.

Regulus blinks rapidly, his voice a little wobbly when he croaks, "It just feels like we haven't
had enough time."

"Shh, don't do that," James whispers, reaching up to cradle his face and lean in to press their
foreheads together. "Don't think of it as some sort of ending, love. It's not. We have plenty of
more time to look forward to, alright? Do you know how many new beginnings we have
waiting for us?"

"I'm guessing you're going to say a lot," Regulus mumbles.

"Mhm, as many as we want," James agrees quietly. "This isn't the ending. It's just a new
chapter. Think of it like a book. You love your books, yeah? Shouldn't you be excited to see
what comes next?"

"Not if there's less of you on the page," Regulus replies.

"Am I your favorite story, then?"

"You're my favorite everything."

James' lips curl up against his will, a bloom of warmth bursting in the middle of his chest.
"We're going to be alright. I promise you, love, we will be. Trust me."

"I do," Regulus breathes out, tilting his face up the moment James ducks in closer.

It's so strange how tentative and sweet a kiss can start out between them when they've done it
so many times. It never gets old. Sometimes, to James, it feels like their very first—not the
same as the first they had, but as if he's experiencing it again for the very first time. It's an
ethereal opportunity, getting to feel this way for someone else. James is in love with being in
love with Regulus, because he's so happy just getting to be, knowing it's real and just for
them.

Regulus leans into him, opening up with a quiet sigh as he melts just the way James likes. He
likes even more that he can do this; that he can draw Regulus in and away from his woes with
just a touch; that he can comfort him and make him feel things he can't run from with just a
kiss. James treasures the responses that Regulus gives him, as if they're more valuable than
jewels or gold, and they are. To him, they are. James has never been more rich than when
Regulus is lost to sensation with him, wanting him and loving him too loud to hide it.

Like this. A moan against James' mouth, a melody to James' ears, all because James has
drawn the kiss out, deepening it slowly and with care because he wants to feel every part of
it. Regulus can't worry about anything when James has him, no more than James can worry
when Regulus is with him.

"You know," James murmurs, his words muffled into Regulus' skin as he grazes his lips along
Regulus' jaw, heading for one spot in particular. One of his hands has sneakily slipped under
the hem of his jumper. "You know, Regulus, we could—"

"Anyone could come in," Regulus rasps, but despite his words, his head is falling back
against James' palm that splays out wide, cupping the curve of his skull as he triumphs in the
fresh display of more of his neck. "It's the astronomy tower, James. Shagging here would be a
very, very stupid idea."

"It'd be symbolic, and it is our last night," James points out, and Regulus' breath hitches as he
presses closer. "We could conjure a duvet, lay out under the stars…"

"You and your plans," Regulus whispers, sucking in a sharp breath the moment James finds
that special spot.

James hums, but waits. "They're brilliant, you can't deny it, but if you don't want to, of course
we can stop."

"Now, when did I say that?" Regulus replies breathlessly.

James fights a grin and presses his mouth more firmly to that spot on his neck, groaning in
pure bliss at the sound that leaves Regulus' mouth in response, that lovely keen of his, that
delightful moan that says he's so fucking happy about what's happening to him that he can't
keep quiet. James loves it. He loves everything about Regulus, honestly. The sight of him, the
sound of him, the taste and smell and touch of him. Regulus is a gift to his senses, a siren-call
 James would drown for, in his desperation to always answer. Nothing lures him in like
Regulus Black in all his glory, just his simple existence.

"I love you," James declares on his journey back to Regulus' mouth. "I'm in love with you.
I'm going to show you; I'm going to make love to you, and you'll know."

"I already know."

"You'll know again, then."

"Yeah, that's—" Regulus hums, releasing a high noise in his throat, his breathing thin and
wonky like he's really, really excited, and James knows it well. He's heard it enough by this
point to know that Regulus is indeed very excited. "Well, I'm hardly going to stop you, am I?
Do go on, James."

"Of course, love. Whatever you want," James mumbles, then his mouth is too busy to say
much else.

They go stumbling back while the stars wink down at them, burning masses of flames light-
years away, and yet a twinkling blanket above them as they get lost in each other. No worries,
and no thoughts of tomorrow; no endings, and no beginnings; just this, right now, all that they
are, and all that they will be.

They're alright. They're going to be alright.

Chapter End Notes

that awkward moment where your best friend walks in on you and your boyfriend
making out, but worse because your boyfriend is your best friend's brother. james potter
things. sirius being supportive of james and regulus' relationship>>> (eat your heart out,
Best Friend's Brother by ao3 user bizarrestars)
that awkward moment where you're sneaking out of your boyfriend's room and catch
your best friend sneaking out of your other best friend's room. the fact that they just
stared at each other, then slowly backed away from each other 😭😭😭 HELP REMUS
AND JAMES NEVER EVEN TALKED ABOUT IT LMAOOO I LOVE THEM SO
MUCH. it was a very "you don't tell the Black Brother you're shagging about this, and i
won't tell mine" moment, a silent exchange that james and remus immediately came to
and never spoke of again.

other even while they're dating 🥰🥰🥰

speaking of remus, the fact that he and sirius find new ways to be stupid about each
i love them a lot. sirius "punch me in the face"
black and remus "he misses me?" lupin are made for each other. i want to squeeze them.

james being a good friend, my beloved. he really offered to adopt evan, HELP 😭😭😭
i love him so much. meanwhile, evan has his own plans, which amounts to him and
barty being roommates. ~oh my god, they were roommates~ barty really said: evan and i
are dating and in love in my head, so that must mean it's real. i love him so much.
meanwhile, james getting attacked by all sides from regulus, lily, AND sirius. the
ultimate trifecta, his brain BROKE, the poor man was sweating 😭😭😭

also the slytherins being sad about dorcas leaving??? brb, gonna sob. and james, peter,
remus, and sirius being clingy and sad??? no one look at me, im fragile.

if anyone cares to know, that bit about mundungus fletcher dressing as a woman because
aberforth banned him from hog's head is actually canon. it's also canon (inferred, at
least) that the giant squid was born around 1976, or possibly earlier, and i took this to
mean that it ended up in the lake because the four choose gremlins put it there. thinking
about the time colin creevey fell into the lake and the giant squid saved him, or the time
harry fed it toast. just a casual hogwarts pet, and remus, sirius, peter, and james were at
fault for it. also yes, i did divert from canon to make them get the map back, only to
swerve right back and have them pass it on. like most people, i do find it annoying that
they (apparently) didn't even attempt to get it back, and i also find it annoying that
everyone just assumes that PETER lost the map in canon, because it's not explicitly said
(im pretty sure, because i looked), but i also REALLY love that the twins end up with
the map and eventually give it to harry, so i found a way to sort of...fix all that. everyone
cheered! or i did, at least. please let me have this.

but james potter being the most romantic man on the planet? "ill rip my heart out of my
chest for you"??? OKAY??? CALM DOWN, SIR. regulus: hey, maybe...don't??? also
regulus being worried because they'll be apart. no stop, i love them. my heart aches for
them. i wanna hug them both.

if this felt like an ending, there's a reason that it did. technically, it is the end. i have
surprises in store, but you'll find out in part six. the only hint i will give is that this is the
last james pov we get for a bit, though we will see him again.

so, with that being said, i hope everyone enjoyed. as always, thank you so, so much for
all the lovely comments and feedback. i appreciate it all so much, you have no idea.
 ACT SIX: Part One
Chapter Notes

this is centered around dorlene, which means it's marlene and dorcas' POV, and THEIR
story in just lovers. it takes place over a few years, and ive provided approximate dates
before each scene to keep it organized, but you'll likely recognize what's going on,
because it was already referenced in the fic before. there are a few scenes we've seen
from either james or regulus' pov, so some brief dialogue is the same. HOWEVER, it's
very brief and from an entirely different perspective now.

so, warnings for this chapter, as concisely as i can put it: some awkwardness, some
embarrassing moments, bitterness (enemies to lovers dorlene my beloved), brief
marlene/oc, some relatable struggles with accepting oneself, flirting, teasing, humor,
fluff, and very mild angst. overall, i would say that it's a wholesome chapter. nothing
explicit, of course, but there is some kissing!

i hope you all enjoy! 🥰

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Hogwarts circa March, 1975

"I'm telling you," Lily whispers, "it's Doxycide."

"I can barely remember what Doxycide used," Mary hisses, leaning back so far that her chair
wobbles precariously on two legs. Marlene can see Peter hook his foot on the edge as if to
add additional security. "Lily, can I partner with you?"

"No, no, she's mine," Marlene interrupts quickly.

Mary groans. "Oh, don't do this to me." She leans back farther and pokes her bottom lip out,
batting her eyelashes. "Please, Marlene? I'll do your transfiguration essay for you."

"I've already done it."

"I'll...love you forever and ever?"

"You're already going to do that," Marlene replies, lips twitching as Lily stifles a laugh beside
her and Peter ducks his head forward with a smile.

"If it helps," Peter offers, "I remember Doxycide. I bloody studied it enough with Remus. I
have a really good memory."

"Oh, well in that case, get stuffed, McKinnon," Mary announces, sticking her tongue out at
Marlene before her chair straightens out and lands on the floor with a thud.

"Psst. Psst, Evans."

Lily's eyes briefly flutter shut, and Marlene resists the strong urge to laugh by coughing.
Slowly, Lily turns in her chair with a heavy sigh. "What, Potter?"

"No need to be hostile, Lily, that's not nice," James says, clicking his tongue, and Lily just
glares at him. "I was just going to ask if you know what Sluggy is going to have us do today.
You're his pride and joy, aren't you?"

"Not that you'd know anything about giving anyone a sense of pride and joy," Lily retorts
sharply, and James breaks out into an absurd grin. "Find out with the rest of everyone else
and leave me alone, would you?"

"Oh, come off it, don't be like that," James needles, leaning so far over that his chair nearly
topples over, and Marlene can see Remus strongly debating just pushing it the rest of the way,
a mild look of thoughtfulness on his face and mischief in his eyes. Marlene can also see
Sirius see it, and he nearly falls out of his chair because he's so entranced, mouth hanging
open.
We're all disasters, Marlene can't help but think, and she doesn't know in what way they are,
not really, but she has no doubts about it. Every single one of them are hopeless fools.

"Alright, alright," Professor Slughorn calls, gathering the attention of everyone as he bustles
out of his stores and sweeps to the front. "Sorry about that. Now, hands raised for everyone
who remembers the Doxycide recipe directly from memory. Come on, don't be shy."

More than half of the hands in the room go up. Marlene, Mary, and James' hands don't go up,
but Marlene suspects James' would if Lily's hadn't already.

Slughorn squints around at everyone. "Mm, a bit of shuffling around is in order, then. Ah, Mr.
Avery, best to put you with Ms. Evans if I want it proper. Ms. McKinnon, come pair up with
Ms. Meadowes, if you would. Mr. Mulciber, you're with Mr. Snape, and Mr. Wilkes, I can
trust that you'll help Ms. Bibbons. Mr. Lupin, keep Mr. Potter in line, and you, Mr. Black, I
want you wherever Mr. Potter isn't. Go join Ms. Macdonald and Mr. Pettigrew. No, no, don't
argue with me. I want no explosions today. Off you pop, all of you!"

Marlene throws one last lingering look of despair towards Lily, who looks like she's fighting
a grimace, which Marlene can't blame her, considering who she has to work with. Mary holds
out her hand as Marlene gathers her things and goes by, so Marlene grabs it and holds on
before they have to slip away, and they both pretend to wipe away fake tears. With that and a
heavy sigh, Marlene moves to the other side of the room and delves into the midst of the
Slytherins, feeling severely out of place, like she just got kicked out of her own home.

Dorcas isn't so bad, though, as far as Marlene knows. They've never spoken, but Marlene has
seen her a few times in passing. They've never had any issues, so maybe this won't go so
bad.

It starts off great when Dorcas looks up and meets her gaze as she awkwardly pulls out a
chair and sits in it. There's a small, polite smile on her face as she says, "Hello."

"Oh," Marlene replies, startled into stupidity, because Dorcas has a very nice voice. There's a
low, smooth cadence to it like she's a soul-singer in the making. Marlene blinks. "Hi."
"Don't worry, I know Doxycide well. I could do it in my sleep," Dorcas tells her. "I actually
made it up with my aunt a lot this summer when Doxies infested her attic."

"We always just bought it from the shops," Marlene admits, fiddling with the edge of her skirt
under the table, wanting desperately to stop but being unable to. "Doxies are horrid pests,
though. I'm assuming there's some in the castle."

Dorcas hums, standing up from her chair to lean over the desk and draw her parchment closer
to her, dipping her quill in between writing. She pushes the chair back with the sole of her
shoe, and Marlene stares at where her knee-sock has slipped down to the back of her calf,
then abruptly stops staring. Except she finds her gaze trailing over the silver clasps around
Dorcas' locks where they slip over her shoulder and obscure half of her face. Her hair is
pretty, flashy with the clasps to draw the eye, and the way they hang over her face gives
Marlene the strange impulse to tuck them behind her ear. For—convenience, obviously.

"Slughorn is no doubt having us do it for that reason, so it's best we get it right," Dorcas tells
her, poking her tongue out the corner of her mouth, which alarms Marlene slightly. Rather
ridiculously, all she can think is put it back, don't show me that, but she wisely doesn't say so.
Instead, she tugs harsher on her skirt, fidgeting. "Alright, here, these are the ingredients we
need. You go get them while I get the cauldron ready."

"Yeah, sure," Marlene blurts out quickly, hopping up and holding out her hand for the
parchment.

When Dorcas passes it over, that's when Marlene notices the rings. The rings are all she
wrote, as the saying goes. As soon as Marlene sees them, she's utterly useless. Dorcas has
lovely hands—and, alright, a lot of people have lovely hands, so it's not strange that Marlene
has noticed. It's really not. But Dorcas' hands are more than just lovely; they're fascinating.
Her fingers are long and deft, a sort of laziness to her grip as she holds out the parchment.
There's three different rings, one large with a black stone, one flat silver band with
engravings of thorns along it, but it's the one on her thumb that Marlene can't rip her gaze
away from. There's a tiny metal moth on it instead of a jewel, and Marlene didn't know that
thumbs could be...pretty, but Dorcas' most certainly is.

"You know all of those, right?" Dorcas asks slowly, raising her eyebrows at Marlene, who is
just standing there.
Marlene, who hasn't even glanced at the parchment, wheezes a faint, "Yes, I—yes, I do," then
whips around and walks away quickly. Her face is really hot, and she feels ridiculously
flustered in a way that she never has before. She isn't sure she likes it one bit. In her head, the
image of pretty rings on a pretty hand flashes on repeat, so vivid that it honestly scares her.
Why is her heart racing? Stop that, she thinks, distressed.

She bumps into Sirius while gathering the necessary ingredients, and the first thing he says is,
"Alright, McKinnon? You look a little flushed."

"No, I don't. Shut it, Black," Marlene snaps, and Sirius raises his hands in surrender, making
a face and muttering about girls under his breath. Marlene struggles not to smash a jar of
dragon liver over his head, which seems a bit excessive, even to her, but she's feeling a lot at
the moment. She does stomp harshly on his foot on her way out, though, just for the
satisfaction of it. He yelps, and yes, very satisfying.

"Ah, perfect," Dorcas comments when she returns, offering her a warm smile.

Marlene has to sit down. "Thank you. I mean—um, yeah."

"Alright, we won't heat the cauldron for a while yet, but we can start with the ingredients. Do
you want to grind the streeler shells or chop the dragon liver?" Dorcas prompts, looking right
at her.

"Whatever you want is fine," Marlene replies, mostly focused on her breathing at the
moment. It's never been so difficult to do before now. The back of her neck is very hot.

Dorcas tilts her head a little. "You're a Chaser, aren't you? I'm assuming you have steady
hands. A strong grip."

"I—I mean, I...suppose," Marlene agrees, swallowing. Does she? It's suddenly very hard not
to look at her own hands and judge them. She wants to hide them behind her back so Dorcas
can't see them. "Do, ah—do you have steady hands?"
"Yeah, but I'd say I like tedious tasks more than anything that requires a strong grip," Dorcas
tells her. "I'll handle the grinding; you can do the chopping, if that's alright."

"Sure." Marlene tries for a smile, knowing it's weak, but Dorcas returns it with a bright one of
her own. It's a strange thing to notice, but she has really pretty teeth. One of the pointy ones
in the top row is just slightly crooked, which makes her smile even prettier, somehow. That's
such an odd thing to think, isn't it? Marlene tries not to think it, or stare, but she's failing
miserably.

"Marlene," Dorcas says, staring at her, and Marlene jolts in surprise to hear her name in
Dorcas' voice. No one's ever said her name like that, like it's exotic and pretty, the sort of
name you curl your tongue around. Stop, stop, stop, Marlene chants inwardly, her heart
thumping hard in her chest, and she doesn't know if she's begging her mind to shut up or
begging Dorcas to stop being...her? Something. "Marlene."

"Sorry, yes, what?" Marlene blurts out stiffly, jerking her head to the side and clenching her
jaw as she grinds her teeth so hard that it invites tension into her neck.

"The liver," Dorcas reminds her, grabbing the mortar and pestle for herself. "I'll need that
before we can start, and we won't have time to try a second time, so we need to begin now
and get it right. I refuse to muck this one up, as many times as I've done it with my aunt at
this point."

"Right," Marlene responds, clipped. She swallows and stares at the dragon liver with all her
focus before she begins chopping. From beside her, she can hear the crunch of the shells as
the pestle works them into a fine powder in the mortar. She also hears it when it suddenly
stops.

"No, no, no," Dorcas says softly, dropping the pestle and shuffling closer until they're so
close that Marlene can feel how warm she is and smell her perfume. It's jasmine, Marlene
thinks. It smells really nice. "You're doing well, but we'll need it a bit thinner than that. Here,
like this."
Marlene watches in a mixture of intrigue and despair as Dorcas' hands cup hers, settling
warm and soft on the outside of hers, gently readjusting her grip and showing her how to
properly chop the liver. Mostly, all Marlene is looking at is the rings on her hands, the moth
one glinting off the sleek blade of the knife. It's pretty. Everything is so pretty. Why is Dorcas
so pretty? Marlene can't breathe.

"Do you think you have it?" Dorcas asks calmly, turning her head to look at her, and oh no,
her eyes are pretty, too. A light, tawny brown that makes Marlene's stomach squirm when
they're turned directly on her. She would like Dorcas to keep looking at her, and she also
desperately needs her to stop.

"No," Marlene mumbles. "Show me again."

It's not even a lie, is the thing. Marlene genuinely knows nothing outside of Dorcas' hand and
eyes at the moment, and those fucking rings. She still shouldn't have said it. She knows that.
She's berating herself for it, even if she can't quite put her finger on what it is that's wrong
about it, only sensing that something is. Something's wrong. Intensely wrong while still
feeling right, somehow, and it scares her. It excites her. She's at war with herself and doesn't
even know what the battle is about, but she can't stop.

Dorcas' mouth quirks up at the corner, her eyes sparkling with amusement, but she dutifully
shows Marlene how to properly chop the liver once more. Marlene retains absolutely none of
it yet again. She's too distracted by the rings on Dorcas' fingers and the unbreaking brush of
their hands.

"Got it now?" Dorcas asks patiently.

Marlene knows she can't say no again, though she is very tempted to. Nonetheless, she
murmurs, "Yeah. Cheers."

"Exactly like that," Dorcas praises a moment later, grinning at her as she goes back to
pulverizing the shells. "Well done."
"Thank you," Marlene says, not entirely sure why she sounds so choked, and her face is so
hot she has to duck her head.

They're quiet for a bit, and Marlene helplessly sneaks glances at Dorcas, only to repeatedly
force herself to stop. She doesn't know what she's doing, what's wrong with her, what's off
about this whole thing. It just feels…overwhelming, in a way.

It's admiration, Marlene knows that. She can tell that she's admiring Dorcas, but it feels like
more than just looking at a beautiful girl and wanting to be beautiful in the same way.
Marlene doesn't want to be beautiful the way Dorcas is; she just wants to look at Dorcas'
beauty without it being a problem. She can sense that it is a problem, though, and that
agitates her. Dorcas is agitating her, at this point. Who allowed her to have her eyes, and her
smile, and wear those rings? Why would she do that? Marlene frowns, because it feels
unfair.

"Alright," Dorcas announces, "I'll add the bundimun acid, and you'll have to stir quickly,
yeah? Are you fine with that?"

"I'll manage," Marlene replies shortly, resisting the urge to roll her shoulders and shift
restlessly. Dorcas is looking right at her. Stop, Marlene thinks once again. Following that is
the immediate and frustrating never look away.

Dorcas purses her lips, eyes narrowing slightly, but she takes Marlene's rigidness in stride.
She leans over the cauldron and glances over at her, raising her eyebrows. Marlene hesitates,
gritting her teeth, then forces herself to take a step closer and lean in. She grabs the ladle and
finds her gaze helplessly crawling to Dorcas' face the moment she looks away and focuses on
juicing the bundimun.

Marlene tries to focus, she really does. She's trying so hard, but it's without a doubt the single
most difficult thing she's ever faced. It's just that Dorcas' expression is relaxed when she's
working, and there's a natural tilt to the corner of her mouth like a hidden smile lives there,
and Marlene genuinely can't stop staring at it. She looks at Dorcas' mouth so closely that it
crosses her mind, almost innocently, that it's likely soft. It would have to be, wouldn't it? Her
lips look soft. They look—

Oh, Marlene thinks, and immediately after, oh no.

The panic hits the moment her mind shapes around the true meaning, as if it's not blatantly
fucking obvious. There's no avoiding the desire to snog someone because they have a lovely
mouth, and eyes, and hands, and—everything. Merlin, everything about Dorcas is lovely.

Marlene holds her breath as it settles within her what's happening. She thinks about Alice,
who she's caught looking at Frank's mouth with truly embarrassing, unwavering focus, which
often leads to her dragging him off so they can go snog in peace. Marlene has never felt that
for any bloke before, and now she thinks she knows why.

"Marlene, stir now," Dorcas murmurs, turning slightly to glance at her, the hidden smile
curling up to reveal itself, her fingers waving above the cauldron, flashing her rings, and
Marlene could fucking cry.

Marlene wants to cry. She doesn't know what to do. She can barely get her scrambled mind in
working order, and she's panicking, so many alarms going off in her head that she can't even
hear herself think, and Dorcas is still right there, so close and so beautiful, and it's all too
much, because Marlene can't stop feeling what she's feeling, even when it's hard to make
sense of what she's feeling, but oh, she's feeling, alright, and she's scared, so very scared,
because it's all too much, too—

Fumbling, Marlene dunks the ladle shakily into the cauldron, her fingers bumping into
Dorcas', and in her desperation, she snatches her hand away so hard that she yanks on the
ladle. It catches the edge of the cauldron, making it tip. When she tries to lunge for it, she
only succeeds in knocking it over all the way, watching in horror as it goes right over the
edge of the table. It lands with a loud clatter, spilling the half-made potion all over the floor,
thankfully not heated yet.

"McKinnon!" Dorcas hisses, staring at her in disbelief, and Marlene is frozen in this horrible,
awful state of panic and despair. "What was that? Why would you—"

"Ms. Meadowes, Ms. McKinnon, what happened?" Slughorn asks in genuine disappointment,
sweeping over to examine the mess with a frown. "It takes a lot to destabilize a cauldron. You
both should know by now how to conduct yourselves around one. Five points from
Gryffindor and Slytherin."
"Professor," Dorcas starts to protest.

"Clean this up without further incident," Slughorn says with a sigh. "No point in trying again.
The class is nearly over now."

Dorcas presses her lips into a thin line as Slughorn walks away, then sends Marlene a
scathing look. "Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I—I—I'm—I didn't—" Marlene snaps her mouth shut when she hears herself stuttering that
badly. Oh, Merlin, she's just made a complete fool of herself in front of the girl she was
daydreaming about snogging only moments before. A truly beautiful girl, who Marlene
shouldn't—she shouldn't—

"That's it?" Dorcas asks flatly.

Marlene does what any sane person in this situation would do. She takes everything that's
making her panic, everything that's filling her with fear, everything that's flustering her—and
she shoves it firmly away, where she proceeds to ignore it. As calmly as she can, Marlene
draws her wand to vanish the mess and summon the cauldron back to the table. Then, without
a word, she sits down in her chair and stares mournfully towards her friends, all of which
she'd rather be with right now. She doesn't look at Dorcas again. She doesn't speak again.
That's undoubtedly for the best.

Beside her, in silence, Dorcas seethes.

Hogwarts circa November, 1975

It seems a bit silly to be worrying about O.W.L.s three months into fifth year, but Dorcas
likes to spend time in the library with Regulus—and sometimes Pandora, Barty, and Evan as
well—so she may as well do something with her time, if she's already finished her
assignments.
Regulus is, as always, fairly quiet while working on his own assignments, which she's always
appreciated about him. He's one of the more tolerable people to study with, because he knows
how to be quiet and focus. Dorcas can tell that this is a little different, though. She knows
when he is focused, so she can tell when he's not. He's been a little odd ever since the
Slytherin versus Gryffindor match earlier this month, and she isn't sure why. Because
Gryffindor won? He would be unhappy about that, but it seems much deeper than that, more
personal. Whatever has him distracted, he most certainly isn't happy about it, that much is
obvious.

"Dorcas," Regulus says quietly.

"Hm?" Dorcas replies, frowning as she turns a page in her book. "What is it?"

"You're missing a volume," Regulus points out, glancing between the books stacked next to
her.

Dorcas cranes her head and sees that, yes, she is missing a volume between three and five.
Either someone has four, or she overlooked it. Sighing, she sits her book aside and gives
Regulus a nod of thanks, then stands up and slips off into the stacks. She walks along the
shelves, going back to see if volume four is there, annoyed when she can't find it.

Humming quietly, Dorcas plucks a different book off the shelf, assuming someone else has
volume four, and she starts to turn away, only to come to a screeching halt. Slowly, she ducks
her head a little and peers through the small space from her side of the bookshelf to the
opposite side. Right there, right across from her, is Marlene McKinnon.

Dorcas' eyes narrow in distaste immediately. She's looking down at a book with a small
frown, blonde hair slipping over her shoulder and stroking the page. Her pink lip is caught
between her teeth in concentration or deep thought, or both, and Dorcas can see her
Gryffindor tie tucked lazily over her shoulder like she tossed it aside to get it out of her way.

It takes a lot for Dorcas not to make a low sound of annoyance in the back of her throat,
which is generally her instinctive response when McKinnon enters her line of sight. Who
does she think she is? That's always what Dorcas finds herself coming back to, that same
thought, because really, who the fuck does she think she is?

Her friends tease her, but she honestly feels that she has every right to despise McKinnon.
The same girl who Dorcas was nothing but nice to the very first time they spoke and worked
together. The same girl who seemed to want nothing to do with her, ruined their potion for no
apparent reason, didn't even apologize, then proceeded to pretend that Dorcas didn't actually
exist. The same girl standing right where she is now, holding the book that Dorcas is looking
for.

Oh, it just had to be her, didn't it?

"McKinnon," Dorcas snaps, watching in vague satisfaction as McKinnon jumps a little, her
head whipping up. McKinnon ducks her head and peers through the shelf to look at her,
blinking. "Are you planning to use that book or just flip through it and hold everyone else up?
I have the rest of the volumes, so I need that one."

McKinnon is frozen for a moment longer, then she closes the book and slips it on the shelf,
pushing it from her side over to Dorcas'. She does it carefully, withdrawing her hand quickly
the moment Dorcas reaches out to take it, like she can't bear the thought of touching her.
There's no lingering. As soon as Dorcas has the book, McKinnon is walking away, not saying
a word or even looking at her again.

That's fine. That's really just so fine, actually. Dorcas is fine with that. She doesn't care if
Marlene fucking McKinnon looks at her, or speaks to her, or knows she exists. McKinnon is
just—a girl. A rude girl, more to the point.

Stupid McKinnon with her colorful hair bobbles, and her knitted hats, gloves, and scarves
that look stupidly warm, and her bright, vivacious triumph at the recent Quidditch match
where she could be seen beaming in her stupid, stupid, stupid Quidditch kit that does
infuriatingly wonderful things for her thighs, which is a traitorous thought, so now Dorcas
has decided McKinnon's thighs are also stupid.

She could have at least said something. Just a simple, "Oh, I'm sorry, here's the book," would
do, preferably followed by a very sincere, "Oh, and I'm sorry about ruining our potion last
year, I'm stupid and you're perfect, obviously," which may be asking a little too much, but
Dorcas is nothing if not ambitious. Still, there could be something. Anything. But it's always
nothing.

Which is fine. Dorcas is fine.

"Alright?" Regulus murmurs, his eyebrows raised as Dorcas slams her book to the table and
takes her seat with a huff.

"Fine," Dorcas grits out.

Quidditch grounds circa December, 1976

"Marlene, love, make room for Noémie's bags."

"Yeah, alright, Mum," Marlene mumbles, barely even moving from her cot as the flap on her
section of the tent closes again once her mum sweeps away. Marlene has her wand balanced
between her nose and top lip and feels too relaxed to really move, especially for some girl she
doesn't even know.

Marlene doesn't really care that her dad has decided to share their tent with someone he
works with, along with the man's family. It doesn't bother her much, even if she has to share
this part of the tent with a complete stranger. There's an entirely separate cot on the other
side, so what does it matter? Besides, Marlene doesn't plan to see the inside of this tent very
much; it's a major Quidditch event, even if it's not the World Cup, and she's going to be with
James and Peter as much as possible, because of course they're here. James comes with the
Pettigrews, and Sirius would likely be here as well, seeing as he lives with the Potters now,
but he'd apparently opted out to go somewhere with James' mum instead, which is just as
well. It's always just Marlene, James, and Peter, and thats how she likes it.

Marlene's dad works internationally, so the family that's staying with them lives
predominantly in France, meaning the girl—Noémie—goes to Beauxbatons. This means they
don't know each other at all and have no reason to know each other, which also means
Marlene has no interest in making a friend she won't even get to see anyway. She can be
polite and cordial and friendly, but she doesn't need a new best friend; she already has that in
Lily and Mary.

But then Noémie walks in.

Honestly, Marlene doesn't think she's ever sat up so quickly in her life. She fumbles with her
wand frantically, sucking in a sharp breath as she scrambles to stop lazing about like an idiot.
Oh. Oh, bloody hell, Noémie is pretty. Really, really pretty. She has chestnut brown hair,
lovely brown skin, and eyes so dark that they're nearly black. There's immediately something
hypnotic about her, and Marlene thinks it might be the glittery stardust makeup along her
cheekbones and the flash of dimples when she graces her with a smile.

"Hello, I'm Noémie," says Noémie, a large case rolling in behind her as she holds out her
hand. She has a light accent, but it's not as heavy as Marlene had anticipated.

"Marlene," is Marlene's quick response as she springs up off her cot to reach out and grasp
Noémie's hand, shaking it firmly. "Sorry, let me—I'll make room for you. One second."

"Are you excited for the match?" Noémie asks, watching her move her things out of the aisle
by essentially kicking them under the cot.

Marlene huffs out a breathless laugh. "Yeah, I am. I—I mean, I love Quidditch. Um, are
you?"

"Excited?"

"Yes."

"Mm," Noémie says, nodding. "I don't play, but my father loves talking with me about the
sport. It's—well, we bond over it, yes? I was...saddened when I learned he would be leaving
me alone a lot on this trip. None of my friends are here."

"I—well, I don't mind," Marlene blurts out, and Noémie perks up, flashing those dimples
again. "I just meant...I don't really mind sticking with you, if you'd like."

Noémie beams at her. "Do you have no friends here either?"

"Ah, you know, not really," Marlene says weakly, clearing her throat. Deep down, she thinks
that James and Peter would understand if they could see what's happening right now. Surely
they wouldn't take offense to this.

"Magnifique," Noémie announces brightly, her accent coming through more clearly when
speaking French, and she moves forward to thread her arm through Marlene's, her eyes bright
and sparkling as she grins at her. "You and me, we'll have a fun weekend together, won't
we?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely," Marlene breathes out.

And they do. Marlene and Noémie are practically sewn at the hips the entire weekend. They
spend every moment together, their arms linked nearly at all times, heads ducked close as
they joke and laugh. They eat together, watch the different matches together, walk and talk
and go literally everywhere together. Late at night, Noémie even slips into Marlene's cot so
they can whisper and giggle to each other.

Marlene learns a lot about Noémie. She learns about Noémie's friends, what her school is
like, how much she travels and how many languages she knows. She learns what Noémie
looks like without makeup (still beautiful). She learns that Noémie likes to sing and wants to
become a singer in the future, and when Marlene gets to hear her do it, she thinks it's a
forgone conclusion, because that's the voice of a fucking angel. She learns that Noémie kisses
each of Marlene's cheeks whenever she leaves and comes back, which sends Marlene's heart
into near hysterics every single time, even though she knows it doesn't mean anything.

All that is to say, Marlene knows she fancies Noémie. There's almost something safe about
doing so, a safety she's never been granted in any other situation, because after the weekend
is over, Noémie will leave and Marlene can go back to pretending that she doesn't feel things
like this. But, for now, she let herself have this. Just this. Just the acknowledgement of her
feelings, because she isn't expecting anything more.

On the last day, Marlene and Noémie are heading back to their tent late in the evening when
there's a loud call of, "Oi, Marlene! I know it's you! Where have you been, McKinnon?!"

Marlene winces, resisting the urge to duck and hide. Oh, James, please don't do this. Marlene
could throttle him. She heaves out a deep breath, her face hot as Noémie turns curiously to
watch as Peter and James come barreling towards them with bright grins. Is it too late for
Marlene to pretend that she has no idea who they are?

"We thought maybe you didn't show up after all!" Peter tells her incredulously, hands on his
hips. "We looked for you. You were supposed to come to my tent, but you never showed up.
What happened?"

Marlene wants to sink into the ground and never resurface. She can feel Noémie looking at
her. "I—ah, I forgot, is all. Sorry. I'm sure you two carried on just fine without me."

"We missed you," James says sincerely, and Marlene inwardly pleads with him not to do this
to her. She appreciates the love, truly, but right now? "We always do Quidditch events
together, the three of us. It wasn't the same without you."

"It wasn't," Peter confirms. "And who is this?"

"Noémie," says Noémie, holding out her hand.

James grins as he reaches out to shake it. "I'm James, that's Peter. How do you know
Marlene?"

"My family is sharing a tent with hers," Noémie says. "I'm sorry if I've taken your friend
from you. She has been giving me much company so I would not be lonely. Don't be angry
with her, please."

"Oh! Oh, no, of course not," Peter replies quickly as she reaches out to shake his hand, too.
"That makes sense. It's fine, really. We'll see her back at Hogwarts when the break is over,
and we can talk about the matches then."

"Yes, exactly, I'll see you both at Hogwarts," Marlene grits out, glaring daggers at them,
much to their confusion. Boys are so stupid. "If you'll excuse us, we have to get back."

"Sure," James says cheerfully. "Lovely to meet you, Noémie!"

Noémie, sweet as she is, happily returns the sentiments as Marlene drags her off. James and
Peter take off running again, no doubt off to go get in some sort of trouble. Marlene banishes
them from her mind because they've just ruined her life a little bit, even if she knows that it'll
hardly have an impact, seeing as Noémie is leaving in the morning.

They don't speak all the way back to the tent, and both their families are already in their own
sections, quiet and muffled in the way that means they've put up silencing charms so they
could sleep. They all have to be up early, so that makes sense.

Marlene breaks away from Noémie to go crawl into her cot, still stung from the humiliation
of being caught in a blatant lie. Noémie watches her, looking thoughtful, and Marlene can
barely meet her gaze for longer than five seconds.

"Your friends," Noémie murmurs. "They're very nice."

"I suppose," Marlene mumbles, laying on her back and staring up at the ceiling of the tent.
She gives up and just lifts her hands to cover her face, muffling a groan.

A few beats later, Noémie slips into the cot next to her, packed in tight as always, but that
never seems to bother her. It certainly never bothers Marlene. Cool fingers wrap around
Marlene's wrist, encouraging her to drop her hands, and as soon as she has, Noémie's cool
palm cups her cheek. Marlene's head turns to the side, leaving them staring at each other,
sharing a pillow. Marlene's breath catches in her throat.

"Did you avoid your friends for me?" Noémie asks quietly.

Marlene exhales slowly and says, "Yes."

"You didn't want me to be alone?"

"I wanted us to be alone together."

Noémie hums, lips curling up, the tiny impressions of her dimples making a brief appearance.
For a moment, silence lingers between them as they look at each other, and Marlene isn't sure
she's actually breathing. Her chest flutters, and her stomach squirms, but Noémie's thumb is
brushing her cheek gently, and Marlene thinks… Well, she isn't expecting anything more than
she has allowed herself this weekend, but it seems like there's more being offered to her.

There's no denying it when Noémie shifts closer, so close that their noses bump, and she
leans back just as quickly to look into Marlene's eyes, searching them. Marlene swallows and
draws on courage she didn't even know she had, her eyes fluttering shut as she tilts her face
slightly and leans in.

It's a tentative kiss, slow and careful like they're both nervous, but Marlene likes it. She really
likes it, and she especially likes the soft-spoken French that Noémie speaks before pressing
closer to deepen their second kiss. Marlene curls into it, her heart racing as the world seems
to melt away.

"Magnifique," Noémie whispers when they pull apart, eyes opening as they stare at each
other, Marlene pink-cheeked and pleased, Noémie dazed and dangerously close to grinning.

"Can we do that again?" Marlene whispers back.

Noémie's head shifts on the pillow as she nods. "We can do that until the morning. It is our
secret, because we are alone together, you and me."

"Will we ever be alone together again, do you think?" Marlene asks, even though she knows,
but she needs the reassurance of the answer anyway. She needs the safety of knowing this
will end, that she'll be able to wake up and close the lid on it as if it means nothing, because it
has to mean nothing.

"No," Noémie says softly. "No, I don't think so."

"Then we'll make the most of it now," Marlene tells her, leaning in to kiss her again, and they
do it until they're too tired to do it anymore.

The following morning, Marlene and Noémie hug one another tight, and Noémie has tears in
her eyes, even as she smiles and presses fierce kisses to Marlene's cheeks. When she stands
with her family at the portkey that will take her away, Noémie holds Marlene's gaze until
she's gone, and she takes the safety and acknowledgement Marlene granted herself with her
when she goes. Marlene turns away, swallowing, and she tells herself it didn't mean a thing.

They never see each other again.

Hogwarts circa October, 1977

"I hate this," Evan whispers, his gaze darting towards the dorms with a pinched look on his
face. "It's not right. He should be here with us, and now…"

"The scrutiny is hard enough, Evan," Dorcas says softly, shaking her head. "He doesn't need
to worry about what would happen to you if your father thought you were still friends on top
of everything else. That's not your fault, and it's not his. It's just a really hard situation."
"They put a fucking snake in his bed, Dorcas," Evan hisses, slamming his book shut. "It's
venomous. Venomous. And the nutter decided to keep the blasted thing."

Dorcas' lips press into a thin line. "That's awful. Merlin, he wants to keep it? Why?"

"I don't know, because he's fucking mental?" Evan complains.

"Of course we can't tell him no," Barty mutters, "because he's already having a rough year, so
telling the poor thing he can't have a pet would just be a shit thing to do."

Pandora sighs. "I have to provide the mice twice a week."

"Have you spoiled him this week?" Barty prompts dryly. "His life is so miserable that we've
taken to giving him whatever he likes. How have you contributed to the coddling of one
Regulus Black, Meadowes?"

"I've been bringing him books from the library," Dorcas admits, and they all click their
tongues like they're disappointed in her efforts. "How can I compete against allowing a pet
snake, though? If anything, Pandora wins this for providing the meals!"

"I do," Pandora agrees.

Evan tips his head from side-to-side, raising his eyebrows at Barty. "Can't argue with that
one, mate."

"No, suppose not," Barty concedes with a nod.

"I sort of want to see the snake," Dorcas confesses, and they all stare around at each other
before coming to the unanimous decision to ignore Regulus' rather fierce warnings about
blatantly spending time with him. It's Evan and Barty, mostly, but Regulus worries about
Dorcas and Pandora as well, even if they don't care and would absolutely have a go at anyone
who had anything awful to say around them or to them.

Carelessly, they go right to the dorm like nothing has changed between this term and the last.
They burst their way inside where Regulus is, predictably, reading a book. As soon as he sees
them, he—also predictably—scowls at them.

"What did I say?" Regulus snaps.

Sometimes, Dorcas is randomly overcome with the urge to pinch Regulus' cheeks and coo at
him in a baby voice, purely because she knows he would be absolutely appalled by such a
thing. There's genuinely nothing funnier than when he's being a dramatic git about things
they're just going to ignore.

"Oh, come off it," Barty replies lightly. "Dorcas wants to see the snake, is all."

"Yes, and that required all of you, did it?" Regulus asks flatly.

"It did," Dorcas confirms solemnly, watching Regulus' nostrils flare in agitation. "Now, come
on, show me the snake."

Rolling his eyes, Regulus sits his book aside and hops up from his bed, leading them over to
the tank where there is indeed a snake inside it. Dorcas is admittedly wary, but she's also very
inspired by how the snake spills out over the branch inside the tank. Her brain starts
designing immediately, putting jewelry pieces together in her mind's eye—snake rings and
necklaces and bracelets. Oh, the Slytherins would love that. She could make a profit off that,
if she decided to sell.

Regulus carelessly sticks his hand in the tank to draw the snake out, because he is, in fact, a
fucking lunatic. Conjured or not, that snake could absolutely kill him with one strike, but he
seems altogether unbothered by the prospect. This is mildly concerning, honestly, at least
until Dorcas sees the snake try to strike Regulus, only to gently sway back before his fangs
ever land. Ah, well, that explains Regulus' aloof demeanor.
"I altered a shield charm so he can't land a bite when we've cast it," Regulus explains, holding
his arm out so they can all peer closer as the snake winds around his hand and wrist. "I will
teach it to you, I promise. He's harmless, really."

"Did you name him?" Pandora asks, lips twitching fondly.

Regulus blinks like this idea never even crossed his mind before. They all look at each other,
then focus back on him, and he cautiously ventures, "What do you even name a snake?"

"Whatever name suits a snake?" Evan suggests.

"That's…" Regulus trails off, and they all stare at each other again for another long beat of
silence. Dorcas swears they all come to the same conclusion at the same time, but it's Regulus
who voices it first. "It's going to have to be Salazar, isn't it? That's the only option."

"Yeah," they all chorus back.

Barty reaches out and drags his finger over the snake's head, humming. "Giving him a name
does make him seem less threatening. Salazar it is, then. We'll call him Zar."

"If he's not going to bite me, I want to hold him," Pandora declares, bouncing in place with
excitement blooming in her eyes, and Regulus huffs out a quiet laugh as he gives into her
request. Pandora gasps like an excited child coming across a puppy rather than a snake. "Oh,
he feels interesting. His scales. Regulus, this is nice. I love him already. Hello, Zar. Aren't
you lovely? Yes, you are. Look at your little nostrils. Oh! He's—I think he likes my hair."

"I'd bloody well say so," Evan agrees, chuckling as they all watch. "That'd be an interesting
hair bobble, wouldn't it? Or a clasp? Not just in the shape of a snake, but actually Zar. You
should wear him around one day, Pandora."
"They'd take him from us, or I would," Pandora says, holding still as Zar winds his way up
her braid. He's not trying to strike her, so Dorcas assumes he's happy enough.

"I think I'll design something like that, and other things inspired by him," Dorcas muses.

Regulus raises his eyebrows. "You know, you could make a profit off that. There's certainly a
market in the Slytherins."

"Beat you to the thought already, Black," Dorcas says, grinning, and he inclines his head in
respect.

They all stand together and crowd around Zar, murmuring and laughing quietly between
themselves in the safe seclusion that they find with each other, and Dorcas can pretend for
just a little longer that everything that's wrong can't touch them.

She can pretend that Regulus isn't in danger, under constant scrutiny, and isolated just
because he fancies men. She can pretend that Pandora isn't stressed, and worried, and
drawing on her arms to battle her near-constant anxiety. She can pretend that Barty isn't a
loose cannon, volatile and quick to anger, willing and ready to fight at a moment's notice like
he can defy the whole world in the endeavor to defy his father. She can pretend like Evan
isn't abused at home, spied on here, and bound to a life he doesn't even want to lead. She can
pretend that this isn't her last year, and she has no idea what she wants to do with her life,
other than be something great.

Right here and now, Dorcas can pretend that everything is fine, and she can pretend she's not
tired of pretending.

Hogwarts circa January, 1978

It's the loud burst of laughter in the distance that grabs Marlene's attention before she's even
realized it, and she's turning her head towards it before she makes the decision to. That low,
sultry laugh full of soul. One glimpse at Dorcas Meadowes, and Marlene quickly rips her
gaze away.

She immediately does a double-take when she sees Crouch's head in Regulus Black's lap.
Now, usually this would not gather a second look from her, but she now comes with the
knowledge that Regulus is James' boyfriend, and if there's one thing she knows for sure about
James Potter, it's that he's a very jealous bloke. As his friend, it's sort of her job to notify him
of these things; she'd expect the same thing of him.

"James, Barty Crouch is lying all over your boyfriend," Marlene informs him without gentle
delivery.

James immediately stops and swivels on the spot, his face falling flat in seconds. "Well, don't
they look cozy?"

"Don't do anything stupid, James," Marlene hisses under her breath as she moves to follow
him, wondering if she should have followed the instinct as James' friend to update him on
this sort of thing. "James—"

"I'm not going to do anything stupid," James mutters, but Marlene really doubts that. "I'm just
going to talk to him."

Humming skeptically, Marlene follows James, because she's the only person within a five
foot distance that will have his back if things go wrong, and even if he does something
stupid, she's bound by some sort of honor system after years of friendship to not abandon him
with...them.

By them, she means the group of Slytherins that are all hissing at each other and shuffling
around like the snakes they are. Well, Pandora is a Ravenclaw, she thinks, but the point still
stands. As soon as they approach, Dorcas is glaring right at her like she's been doing for the
last three years.

It's constant. Ever since The Cauldron Incident, as Marlene has delicately labeled it in her
mind, Dorcas has never looked at her with anything other than complete and utter disdain. In
the halls, in classes, across any room—if they're in each other's vicinity, Dorcas is searing
holes into the side of her head. In turn, Marlene ignores her as much as possible to avoid the
reminder of The Cauldron Incident and...other things.

As soon as James is standing over Regulus and Crouch, he says a very short and sharp, "Hi."

"Hey there, Potter," Crouch replies with a little wave.

"McKinnon," Dorcas greets coldly, eyes narrowed.

Marlene hasn't spoken to this girl in three years, and unfortunately, she's only gotten more
beautiful with time. She's not entirely sure how to proceed, or even that she'll be able to, but
she manages an uncertain, "Er, Meadowes?"

"Don't you all look cozy?" James grumbles, and Marlene has never heard him sound so
grumpy before.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Crouch announces, and his friends break out into muffled
snickers.

"Regulus," James says through clenched teeth, and Regulus' gaze snaps up to him. He blinks.

"James."

"Can I—could I talk to you for a moment? Alone. Over there."

"What? James," Marlene hisses, staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth falling open. Does
he not follow the same honor system as her friend? What the fuck? He's going to abandon her
now? That's not fair.
"Just a minute, Marlene, you'll be fine," James says, passing his broom over to her.

Dorcas leans forward. "Yeah, McKinnon, you'll be fine. What? Have a problem with us, do
you?"

Oh, bloody hell, Marlene thinks, her entire train of thought faltering on its tracks. Dorcas still
wears rings, and alright, Marlene knew that. She's seen them over the years from when she
couldn't stop herself from taking a quick peek, but she's been very careful not to look too
much or too closely. The moth ring. Three years later, and it's still on her thumb.

"No," Marlene blurts out, startled into complete honesty, and it is true. The problem isn't any
of them, or even Dorcas herself. Dorcas can't help that she's beautiful. However, Marlene isn't
an idiot. She knows Dorcas has hated her guts for three years straight. "No, of course not. I—
well, I thought you had a problem with me, actually."

Regulus abruptly pushes Crouch's head from his lap and looks at Dorcas with an expression
that Marlene can't interpret but would desperately like translated for her anyway. He walks
off with James, leaving Marlene standing there, shifting between both brooms and feeling
abandoned. She's already itchy and restless just from Dorcas' eyes pinned on her. Merlin but
they're still as pretty as they've always been, even when angry.

"I have a problem with you, do I? So, you can notice some things. Lovely," Dorcas says
flatly.

"Because of—because of fourth year, right?" Marlene asks weakly. Apparently, she's a
glutton for punishment.

"Oh, that was just the start, McKinnon," Dorcas retorts.

Rosier snorts. "Truly, you have no idea."

"The list of your offenses is long and growing every day," Pandora adds casually, clicking her
teeth and shrugging.

Marlene can't help it. She sputters in disbelief. "I—what? I didn't even do anything! I—well,
yes, there was fourth year, but after that, I haven't done anything else. How can you hate me
so much when I've hardly given you reason to?"

"Oh, you've given me plenty of reasons to," Dorcas declares without an ounce of sympathy in
her tone.

"Trust me," Crouch says dryly, "you have."

"We've heard them," Pandora informs her.

"All of them," Rosier agrees, widening his eyes. "Every single reason. Many, many times."

"Not—obviously not that much, they're exaggerating," Dorcas mutters, wrinkling her nose,
which is cute. Just...objectively. "That's not the point. The point is, I have many issues with
you, McKinnon, and every single one of them is fair."

"You hardly know me!" Marlene yelps incredulously, inexplicably stunned by this. While she
knew Dorcas hated her, having it put to her so ruthlessly, accompanied with the information
that it's for more reasons than she thought, is unexpectedly agitating her. That isn't fair,
actually. "Name one thing about me that you actually know."

"You play Quidditch," Dorcas rattles off immediately, her gaze flicking up and down the
length of Marlene's body, obviously taking in her Quidditch kit. Her look lingers long enough
that Marlene has to resist the impulse to stand up taller.

"That's common knowledge," Marlene replies.

Dorcas' gaze snaps back to hers, and she arches an eyebrow in challenge. "You like to knit."

"I—" Marlene opens and closes her mouth, startled. She blinks rapidly. "How did you know
that? No one but my friends know that. Who told you that?"

"No one. I'm just not an idiot," Dorcas tells her.

Marlene's eyes bulge. "I never said you were? I don't think you are. Do you think that's what I
think? I don't."

"Wait, everyone shut up, look at that," Pandora cuts in, flapping her hands, causing everyone
to turn to see what she's staring at with a grin on her face.

James and Regulus are hugging. Well, embracing is likely a better word for it. Marlene's
eyebrows tug together, because she's never seen James hug anyone like that before, like
they're holding him up and comforting him, like he just wants to fall into them. Marlene's
face softens, because she's quite sure one of her closest friends is deeply in the throes of
love.

"Why won't anyone hug me like that?" Rosier mumbles with a wistful sigh.

Crouch opens his arms. "I'm literally right here, mate."

"Hello?" Pandora says, also opening her arms.

"Don't look at me," Dorcas announces with a snort when Pandora and Crouch watch her
expectantly.

Rosier chuckles and tosses a handful of grass at her that she artfully dodges. He reaches out
to pull Pandora into his arms, then turns and dumps them both over on where Crouch is still
lazily sprawled on the ground, arms wide open. They drop down against his chest hard
enough that he curls up slightly with a loud oomph, but he relaxes again and pats their heads.

"Not one for hugging?" Marlene asks, catching Dorcas' gaze again, and she can't help but
want to know. It's just simple curiosity. Her mind won't leave her alone about it. Does she not
like hugging? Does she have a boyfriend who she's only willing to hug? Would she usually
hug them if Marlene wasn't around, or did she just say it for the joke?

"Depends on the person I'll have in my arms," Dorcas answers, holding her gaze, and
something about the way she says it, the words she uses—it sends a violent shiver up
Marlene's spine. The person she'll have in her arms. Oh, something about that. There
is...something about that.

Marlene swallows harshly and tries to free her gaze from where it's trapped in Dorcas', but it's
genuinely no use. She feels rooted to the spot, like she'll become one with the earth and
remain right here if that's where Dorcas decides she has to stay. Alarm bells are ringing in
Marlene's head again, and she's begging herself to look away at this point, because surely
Dorcas is just trying to stare her down in a challenge, unaware that Marlene is about five
seconds from drowning in the heady pull of her gaze. Genuinely, Marlene can't fucking
breathe.

"Oi, Marlene, let's go in, yeah?!" James calls out, because he's a hero, a true hero. It jolts her
out of it, and she quickly holds up the brooms in two shaking hands.

"Coming!" Marlene replies, then turns without looking back and readily making her way to
James, feeling the heavy glare of Dorcas' following her as she goes.

James is noticeably in a happier mood when he falls into step with her, grabbing his broom.
"Cheers."

"Yeah, sure. What has you so happy?" Marlene asks.

"Regulus agreed to go on a date with me," James says cheerfully, eyes bright with endearing
excitement, but then he chews on his lip.
Marlene raises her eyebrows. "Nervous?"

"I—well, I suppose. A little," James admits with a weak chuckle, reaching up with his free
hand to rub the back of his head, ruffling his hopeless hair. "I just… I want to make sure he'll
enjoy himself, that's all."

"Well, he'll be with you, his boyfriend, who he fancies," Marlene points out, biting back a
laugh, "so I'd say he'll enjoy himself no matter what you do."

"Right, but I still…" James shrugs slightly, blowing out a deep breath, and Marlene struggles
not to laugh at him. It's sweet how much he wants Regulus to like him, and be happy. James
clears his throat, waving his hand. "Anyway, I'll plan it all out. I'm sure it'll be fine. I see you
survived Regulus' friends."

"Barely," Marlene mumbles. She frowns down at the ground, her mind working over itself.
"What would you do if someone hated you, but you—didn't want them to, and you felt like
they didn't really have a right to?"

James hums thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose I'd...try to change their mind. If I liked them, I'd
tell them that I did and explain why they should like me, too."

"Right," Marlene replies quietly. "Easier said than done."

Hogwarts circa February, 1978

If Dorcas is completely honest, she's not at all looking forward to this party that Regulus is
dragging them to. She's quite sure it's a recipe for disaster in more ways than one.
It doesn't help that she's very aware of the fact that Marlene McKinnon is going to be present.
The last thing Dorcas needs right now is another blatant display of McKinnon ignoring her
and being an all around twat just by existing. Parties are meant to be fun, and Dorcas is quite
sure she's going to spend the night irritated, no matter if Pandora has a feeling that they'll all
have a good night or not.

She should know better than to doubt Pandora when she has a feeling about something.

Marlene McKinnon is something else when she's sloshed. Bright-eyed, flushed, and bold.
McKinnon walks right up to her and says, "Hello, Meadowes, do you still hate me?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Dorcas replies, because surely she's made her point very clear by
now. Despising McKinnon is practically a personality trait at this point.

"Well, let's change that, shall we?" McKinnon smiles brightly, and Dorcas stares. "I like your
earrings. And your dress. And your hair. And your rings. I—I really like your rings."

Dorcas' mind falters. It takes her a second to take that in, and she would like to think she's not
so vain that she'd be swayed by compliments, but coming from McKinnon… Well, it's a far
cry from ignoring her, and Dorcas much prefers this, actually. She feels her lips curl up as she
says, "Go on."

McKinnon does, in fact, go on. Dorcas is not prepared, but she nonetheless listens willingly,
learning quite a few different things that McKinnon apparently likes about her.

Her teeth. The tiny chain-cuffs she puts in her hair sometimes. Her rings. How she
occasionally charms her Slytherin tie into shapes at her throat, like a heart or butterfly or bird.
Her rings again. The one freckle beside her right eye. How she's probably good at singing,
even if McKinnon has never heard her do it, but she apparently is very sure of this. The way
she cuts slits into her stockings or knee-socks. Her rings again.

By the time they've all made it to the sofa, lazing around, Dorcas has gotten an extensive list
of the many things McKinnon apparently likes about her. She would like to think this
wouldn't please her, but it is satisfying to know that, after years of being ignored, everything
that McKinnon does know about her, she likes. It puts a bright pulse of triumph in Dorcas'
chest, making her feel rather ridiculously like she could preen, though that may just be all the
drinks she's had.

McKinnon, who has drifted from one topic to the next, but always comes back to her list,
once again finds herself there to reiterate, "Rings. Did—did I mention the rings?"

"You mentioned the rings," Dorcas assures her, propped up on the arm of the settee. She can
see Regulus in the background being gay and drunk with James, so that's going well, then.
Humming, she lifts her hand with the most rings and lazily waves it through the air in front of
McKinnon's face, which seems to genuinely entrance her. "These rings?"

"Those rings," McKinnon agrees breathlessly, following the motion of her fingers so
intensely that her whole head moves.

Dorcas watches her face, her mind a little sluggish, but most certainly not as pissed as
McKinnon obviously is. She wonders if McKinnon being the way she is to her is out of
jealousy of some sort. McKinnon has made it quite clear that she likes Dorcas' style, her
accessories, and how she looks; it's not the only thing she's praised, but Dorcas knows when
she's being called pretty, even in a long-winded list form. So, is that it?

Just petty jealousy when seeing another beautiful girl. Envy, perhaps? Was that why she was
so cold to her in fourth year, stiff and distant and fairly short with her? Then ignored her after
that, perhaps nursing scorn out of envy? People do that, Dorcas knows. Everyone does it,
looking at others they find to be beautiful and feeling a sense of bitterness. Good people, bad
people, kind people; no one is immune to the keen sting of envy. Dorcas herself has felt it.

What people do with that envy is what matters, though. Some people try to copy what they
admire, finding inspiration from it. Some mock it to try and combat their own envy, tearing
another down in the process. Others accept it, handle it, and move past it to love themselves.
Everyone is different, and Dorcas has to admit that, if this is the case with McKinnon, she
certainly could have handled it much worse. Especially when they were younger. Sometimes,
it's hard to admire someone else so much, especially when envy is involved, and when you're
teenagers, this can turn volatile quickly.
If that's what McKinnon deals with, the fact that she simply ignored Dorcas and never
engaged with her is commendable. She was never directly rude, never tore Dorcas down to
build herself up, and she never once tried to compete with her.

Dorcas can respect that, if that's what it is. She doesn't have to like it, but she can respect it.
Her pride stings at the thought, because she doesn't want McKinnon to ignore her. No, she
much prefers this; she really rather enjoys McKinnon listing off the things she likes about
her. Maybe Dorcas should make her a ring of her own, or something. Do her makeup and put
an outfit together. Tell her how beautiful she is just as she is.

"I can't breathe," McKinnon chokes out abruptly, and Dorcas gives a violent blink, her
drifting mind snapping back into focus as she stops her fingers in the air. McKinnon sucks in
a sharp breath, swiveling to look at her, lips parted in what can only be described as awe. "Do
you—do you want to get out of here? We should take a walk. Will you take a walk with
me?"

"Yes," falls out of Dorcas' mouth before she even fully registers the question.

McKinnon seems to breathe easier once they're outside, wandering the halls. It's late, so
they're tempting fate, but Dorcas finds something thrilling about it. Flich can't be everywhere
at one time, though, and Dorcas knows more than a few abandoned corridors they can stroll
down. She reaches out to tug on McKinnon's sleeve to lead her to one.

"You—I think you shouldn't hate me anymore," McKinnon informs her after they stroll in
oddly comfortable silence for a bit. McKinnon is walking beside her, hand outstretched to
slide along the wall, likely helping her keep her balance. She's looking right at Dorcas,
though. Big, wide eyes, sweetly beseeching. "You should stop hating me now."

"McKinnon," Dorcas says, huffing out a quiet laugh.

"Marlene," McKinnon cuts in. "Say that."

Dorcas raises her eyebrows. "Your name? Why?"

"You said it before," McKinnon mumbles, nearly stumbling when the wall gives way to an
open alcove. She smacks her hand to the corner and takes it, heading inside, and Dorcas
mindlessly follows her in.

"I've always called you McKinnon," Dorcas tells her, because she has. She watches as
McKinnon stumbles over to the winding steps, climbing up on her hands and knees to get at a
level she likes before properly sitting down.

McKinnon shakes her head, leaning over the wall beside the curved steps, peering at her
through hazy eyes. "No. Not true. You called me by my name when—when we first met.
Before I—" She squeezes her eyes shut and groans, dropping her head forward. "Before I
fumbled it."

"Fumbled the cauldron?" Dorcas checks, amused.

"The Cauldron Incident," McKinnon whispers, putting great significance on the words as she
lifts her head, looking utterly miserable. "I fumbled it so badly, Dorcas, I'm sorry. I'm really
sorry. I shouldn't have done that. You may not believe me, but I really didn't mean to. I'm
sorry. I'm sorry. I'm really—"

"McKinnon—"

"I'm so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. It haunts me, truly. I've never regretted
anything more in my life. I'm—"

"McKinnon—"

"I really am sorry. Don't hate me anymore. I'm sor—"

"Marlene," Dorcas interrupts firmly, and Marlene snaps her mouth shut, her breath punching
out of her as she blinks. Dorcas shakes her head and moves forward to sit down on the stairs
next to her, turning to put her back against the wall, her dress riding up a little as she gets
situated. She has to pull it back down, and Marlene watches her do it avidly. "I wasn't aware
you thought about what happened at all."

"It keeps me up at night sometimes," Marlene whispers, like it's a secret. She snatches her
gaze up and swallows. "I really am sorry, you know."

"Alright," Dorcas replies, lips twitching.

"You said my name," Marlene murmurs.

Dorcas huffs a laugh and leans in, lowering her voice to something soft and playful when she
chants, "Marlene, Marlene, Marlene."

"Can you sing?" Marlene asks, breathless. "I knew a girl who could sing. She—she had a
voice like an angel."

"I don't think I have a bad voice when I sing, but I don't often sing," Dorcas admits
thoughtfully. "Mostly in the shower."

"Do you listen to The Slits?"

"No. Never heard of them."

"They're a muggle girl band. My favorite song is Typical Girl. I can—I can sing the entire
thing," Marlene informs her, breaking out into a grin like she's very proud of this.

"What, right now?" Dorcas asks, laughing, but Marlene surprises her by nodding her head
eagerly. "Oh? Well, let's hear it, then."
Marlene immediately launches to her feet, careening to the side a little bit, but she self-
corrects and whirls around, eyes bright as she points at Dorcas and sings, "Don't create, don't
rebel. Have intuition, can't decide. Typical girls get upset too quickly; typical girls can't
control themselves. Typical girls are so confusing; typical girls, you can always tell."

"Oh, fucking hell," Dorcas chokes out with a laugh, thoroughly entertained already. Marlene
can't sing, not at all, but what she lacks in talent, she makes up for in enthusiasm.

"Typical girls don't think too clearly; typical girls are unpredictable, predictable. Typical girls
try to be typical girls very well. Typical girls try to be typical girls very well, well," Marlene
continues, and she's loud about it, bobbing her head and shimmying her shoulders as if she's
having the time of her life. "Typical girls are looking for something. Typical girls fall under
spells." She grins and waggles her eyebrows at Dorcas at this line, looking so pleased with
herself. "Typical girls buy magazines. Typical girls feel like hell."

"Don't we all?" Dorcas comments dryly, amused beyond help, watching in delight as Marlene
raises her arms and swings her hips, face flushed and eyes lit up. Helplessly, Dorcas raises
her hand to cover her growing smile.

"Typical girls worry about spots, fat, and natural smells, stinky fake smells," Marlene sings,
dropping her arms to grab her own hips, rolling her eyes hard, then she raises her hand to
plug her nose and cross her eyes. Dorcas can't help but bust out laughing. This seems to
please Marlene, who raises her arms again and proceeds to dance and stumble around as she
continues to sing. "Typical girls try to be typical girls very well, well. Don't create; don't
rebel. Have intuition; don't drive well." She pauses, going still. "That means cars, but you
know, I feel like it applies to Quidditch, too."

Dorcas nods agreeably. "Yes, I can see what you mean. They don't let girls on the Slytherin
team, you know."

"I—" Marlene looks stricken by this. She hiccups. "I bet you would look so good in the air. I
—I mean, be good. At flying. At Quidditch. You know what I meant, don't you?"
"I know what you meant," Dorcas says, chuckling. She waves her hand. "I believe you were
putting on a performance for me, and I was quite enjoying it. Proceed."

"Oh, right." Marlene's face brightens, and she sticks her arms up from where they were
starting to lower, then proceeds to start singing again. "Typical girls try to be typical girls
very well. Can't decide what clothes to wear. Typical girls are sensitive; typical girls are
emotional. Typical girls are cruel and bewitching, but she's a femme fatal. Typical girls stand
by their man. Typical girls are really swell. Typical girls learn how to act shocked. Typical
girls don't rebel."

"Femme fatal," Dorcas murmurs, lips curling up. "Oh, well, I quite like that, actually."

Marlene grins, but continues. "Who invented the typical girl? Who's bringing out the new
improved model? And there's another marketing ploy; typical girl gets the typical boy."

"Does she?" Dorcas whispers, watching Marlene's hips swing back and forth, her head tipped
back as her hands slide down her face, the curve of her neck, over her chest and down her
sides. Dorcas' mouth goes dry as she watches, fixated, trailing her gaze after wherever
Marlene leads her hands.

Cruel and bewitching, Dorcas thinks helplessly, and that's precisely when she realizes she
would like to replace Marlene's hands with her own. Oh, she's had far too much to drink.

"Who invented the typical girl?" Marlene sings loudly, brazenly, still rocking and rolling her
body, outlining the shape of it with her hands. "Who's bringing out the new improved model?
And there's another marketing ploy; typical girl gets the typical boy, typical boy. The typical
boy gets the typical girl; the typical girl gets the typical boy. The typical boy gets the typical
girl; the typical girl gets the typical boy!"

Once finished, Marlene straightens up, then does a very lopsided bow before popping back
up and holding her arms out, beaming at her. Dorcas finds this helplessly endearing, and she
dutifully claps softly, laughing quietly.
"And you?" Dorcas asks as Marlene comes stumbling back over to the stairs to settle down
next to her, hands folded in her lap. "Are you a typical girl, Marlene?"

"No," Marlene breathes out, rubbing her hands restlessly against her thighs. She swallows
and holds Dorcas' gaze, her eyes slightly wide. "No, I don't think I am. Are you?"

"No," Dorcas admits, flicking her gaze all over Marlene's face, studying her features. "Not
even a little bit. There's nothing typical about me, but that's better, I think."

"Yeah," Marlene agrees, chewing on her lip. "What about…? I mean, if you're not the typical
girl, then will the typical boy get you? Is there a typical boy already? You and Evan seem
close."

This startles Dorcas a bit. "Evan? Why Evan and not Barty?"

"Barty was chatting up people," Marlene says, blinking slowly.

"Ah," Dorcas replies, snorting. She gets it. "No, Evan and I aren't together. We're just
friends."

"A different typical boy, then?" Marlene ventures cautiously, her eyebrows furrowed like this
isn't her usual topic of conversation and she has no idea if she's doing it right.

"There's no typical boy," Dorcas admits. She hesitates for a beat, then clears her throat and
shrugs. "There's never going to be a typical boy."

Marlene blows out a breath so deep that round out her cheeks, and then she releases an
absurd little laugh of exhilaration, like she's just faced down a terrible foe. "Right. Brilliant."

"A typical girl, maybe," Dorcas clarifies, in case Marlene didn't quite get what she was
saying. She's the first person to know outside of Dorcas' friends and family, and Dorcas finds
it hard to believe that she's telling Marlene McKinnon, the girl she's despised for three years
consecutively, but it just feels… Well, it feels sort of important that Marlene knows. Dorcas
really wants Marlene to know that she fancies girls.

"Right," Marlene repeats faintly, staring at her with her mouth hanging open a little bit.
There's a brief pause, then Marlene snaps up straight and rubs her thighs more vigorously,
still looking right at Dorcas. "What about a girl that isn't typical?"

"Maybe," Dorcas murmurs, feeling how hard her heart is beating, a strange sense of
adrenaline leaving her shaky and jittery. They've already established that Marlene isn't a
typical girl, and she's right there, so Dorcas forgives herself for finding her gaze latched onto
Marlene's mouth. She can't be blamed; she's a lesbian. "Depends on the girl, I suppose."

"Is—is there a girl?" Marlene rasps.

Dorcas blinks and clears her throat, looking away. Merlin, she has had way too much to drink
if she's distracted by the mouth that belongs to the girl she's hated for years, who has ignored
her. A pretty mouth, admittedly, but regardless. "No. No, there's no girl. And you?"

"What?" Marlene chokes out, and Dorcas turns to see her going rapidly pale. "Is—are you
asking if there's a—"

"A typical boy?" Dorcas prompts slowly, frowning. "Do you have a boyfriend, Marlene?
We're talking about relationships, aren't we? Do you have one?"

"Oh," Marlene wheezes, her hands fisting on her thighs. She swallows and shakes her head
sharply. "No boy."

"What?" Dorcas asks after watching Marlene fidget and repeatedly open and close her mouth
like she has more to say.

In the end, Marlene deflates a little and mumbles, "Nothing."

"Well, that's alright," Dorcas assures her. "I'm sure you'll find a typical boy to love
someday."

"Mn," Marlene hums noncommittally, smiling tightly.

Dorcas is silent for a beat. "I should probably get you back safely to your common room. It's
getting late now."

"Right. Yeah, sure," Marlene says quietly, gaze downcast, and she's slow to stand, but stand
up she does.

Despite this, Dorcas finds herself wandering lazily with Marlene all over the castle, taking
the scenic route around, by which she means they waste over an hour going everywhere but
their separate ways, too lost in talking to each other to care much about finding their way
back.

Hogwarts circa February, 1978

"Ms. McKinnon," McGonagall prompts, peering over her glasses at her, "is there anything
else you'd like to discuss?"

It's a fair question, because their brief meeting about Marlene possibly getting a letter of
recommendation from her for the curse-breaker program she applied to has been over for the
last five minutes, and yet, Marlene is still sitting right here in this chair. Fidgeting. Hesitating.
Lingering.

You're all choosing to ignore it, but no, you don't get to ignore it. If you have a fucking
problem with queer people, then you have a problem with me. James' words from the
previous night float through her head. She can't get them out.
Marlene doesn't have a problem with queer people. She's never had a problem with queer
people. When Mary and Lily both announced that they were queer, she was supportive (as
well struggling not to smack their heads together for being so ridiculous about their feelings
for each other), and she also confessed about Noémie, essentially admitting...about herself
without ever actually saying it. She's never said it. She's only ever told that story to her two
best friends and hinted to James, just once, not protesting when Mary had casually grouped
Marlene in as queer, too. A part of her had wanted to. A part of her had been scared to. She
said nothing, in the end.

Because, see, Marlene has no issue with queer people. She does, however, have some issues
with her being queer. In all honesty, she can't say where it stems from, other than the fact that
she realized it at a younger age and couldn't conceptualize it past wrong, wrong, that's wrong,
you can't do that, you're not supposed to do that. There is the tiny fear that her family might
not like it, but even if they don't, she doesn't doubt that her parents, at the very least, would
tolerate it and love her regardless. Mostly, she thinks it's because she worked so hard to
ignore it, to shove it down, that she wrapped it in caution and uncertainty in her head,
something she's not supposed to do or accept. You're all choosing to ignore it, but no, you
don't get to ignore it. That's just the thing, isn't it? She can't anymore.

Marlene doesn't really...want to ignore it anymore. Seeing James' anger, thinking of what
happened to Regulus, and remembering the fuzzy moment of Dorcas calmly and shamelessly
informing Marlene she didn't fancy boys… It's a constant exposure that softens her. A little
door peeking open in her mind, scrubbing off the stain she painted on this part of her one inch
at a time. The part of her that yearns to be free, to learn and explore and be happy, it's
overpowering her now, inspired by those around her who are so, so brave.

She wants to be brave, too. She wants to be proud, not scared. She wants to be honest, instead
of ignoring this part of herself she shouldn't even have a problem with. It's hard, and she's
struggling, but she still wants it. Some of her motivation is just the persistent regret that she
didn't tell Dorcas that she used to fancy her, and maybe still did, and wanted to kiss her so
badly that she could barely think.

"I'm going to put on some tea," McGonagall announces decisively, as if she can sense that
Marlene is currently dealing with a lot and may need it.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I'm just…" Marlene grimaces and waves her hand next to her head,
hopefully conveying what a mess it is up there. She must, because McGonagall hums in
apparent understanding as she flicks her wand, the background sounds of the kettle going on
drifting over to them.

"Take your time," is all McGonagall says.

It takes Marlene an embarrassingly long time to find the courage to ask, "What do you think
about James and Regulus?"

"Ms. McKinnon, if you're worried about Mr. Black, I assure you, he is alive and—"

"No, that's not—I mean, yes, obviously I'm worried and I care, but that wasn't what I meant. I
mean...their relationship. What do you think about that, Professor?"

McGonagall is silent for a beat, considering her, then she looks away and flicks her wand
again. Two steaming cups of tea float over to land in front of them, and McGonagall cradles
hers as she leans back in her chair. "I think they're both my students, and just like many of my
other students do, they've found themselves in a relationship, which is entirely their business
and none of mine. I am here to teach and implement rules, not dabble in the personal lives of
my students outside of encouraging their safety and education."

"Right. Professionally speaking," Marlene says bluntly. "I'm talking about personally. Do you
think it's wrong?"

"What anyone else thinks does not appear to matter to them, Ms. McKinnon, so why should it
to you?"

"I'm not saying it does. I'm just—I'm only asking."

"Hm." McGonagall sips her tea, eyeing her over the rim. Marlene copies her, clearing her
throat after. "No, I don't think it's wrong. My students' happiness is important, and they are
happy together."
Marlene resists the urge to scream. "I—right, but—"

"Ms. McKinnon," McGonagall cuts in, almost gentle, "I think it best if you simply address
what's on your mind without going through the trouble of filtering everything through Mr.
Potter and Mr. Black's relationship."

"Do you think it's alright to be queer?" Marlene bursts out in frustration, the words ripping
out of her after several moments of struggling, and she sits her tea down afterwards, feeling
ridiculously winded.

McGonagall regards her for another long moment, also sitting her tea down, and all she says
is a very simple, "Yes."

"I—oh," Marlene breathes out. "You do?"

"Yes."

"For girls, too?"

"Yes," McGonagall repeats calmly.

Instantly, the room transforms into a safe space in Marlene's mind. She realizes that's exactly
what she needed to hear, to know, to be reassured that she's in the presence of someone who
shamelessly thinks matters such as this are perfectly alright. It soothes her, and she picks up
her tea again.

They drink together in silence. Marlene can feel the tension seeping out of her shoulders with
each passing second, and she's suddenly grateful that McGonagall steered the conversation
away from James and Regulus, because it's not about them; she wouldn't have been this
reassured if she made it about them. Deep down, she knows what this is about.
"I snogged a girl when I was sixteen," Marlene announces, and McGonagall doesn't even
blink. "It was over Christmas break in sixth year, and I knew her only for a weekend, but I
think I fell in love with her a bit, like she was my first love in a wild, strange way I can't
really explain, because it doesn't make sense to say that when I only knew her for such a
short amount of time, but I… I don't know. That's not the point. The point is, I snogged her
quite a bit, and I let myself because I knew she would leave, and then I didn't think about it
again. But I felt things for her that I've never felt for any boy, and I feel things for girls that I
will never feel for any boy, and I don't tell people or talk about it or let myself even think
about it."

"I don't believe time dictates the authenticity of love," McGonagall murmurs. "If you felt
love, then so it was love. It's something worth cherishing, no matter how brief."

"I'll never have that with a boy," Marlene whispers.

"You don't have to," McGonagall tells her simply, and Marlene can feel the tears flooding her
eyes immediately, because it feels like being given some sort of permission that she's secretly
wanted since she was fourteen years old. Sometimes, you just want someone to tell you that
it's okay.

Marlene swallows thickly, her eyes stinging. "Professor…"

"Yes, Ms. McKinnon?" McGonagall asks gently.

"I'm—" Marlene chokes a bit, her hands shaking, and she squeezes her eyes shut as her
breath rattles in the harsh pressure of her lungs. "I'm a lesbian."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she breaks down crying, and it's such a strange
response, she can't help but think. It's a mingled sense of relief and fear and so many other
things that she can't even begin to untangle it all. She sinks into it, though, into the deep sobs
that fall out of her as she covers her face with her hands and weeps into them.
It just feels unfair, somehow, that she spent all this time trying to ignore it, fighting it, being
so hard on herself—and it's still true. She's still right here, still a lesbian, and all that time she
spent trying to end up anywhere else, being anything else, was time she could have spent
doing kinder things. She could have accepted herself sooner. She could have apologized to
Dorcas and befriended her, possibly even let love blossom between them instead of mucking
it all up before she ever got a chance to let herself be free. She could have avoided all the
horrible, awful things she berated herself with that made her wish she was someone else
entirely. All that time… She can't get it back.

There's the scrape of a chair across the floor, followed by a hand on her shoulder. She briefly
raises her head, still crying, and McGonagall is kneeling down in front of her, looking so
unbearably kind. There's a heavy amount of understanding in her eyes, as if she knows
exactly what Marlene feels, and maybe she does, because she knows exactly what Marlene
needs. She holds out one arm, letting Marlene fall into her as she cries harder, her hand
coming up to cup the back of Marlene's head and gingerly stroke her hair.

Distantly, some part of Marlene's brain registers that she's just won the bet all her friends
came up with to see who could get a willing hug from McGonagall first. No, Sirius running
up to her and hugging her quickly, then darting off with bright laughter does not count. It has
to be McGonagall who offers and initiates; she never has, until now.

She can't really appreciate that at the moment, admittedly, but she knows she will when she
calms down.

"Ms. McKinnon," McGonagall murmurs when Marlene tips back, scrubbing at her face and
sniffling, "I hope you don't mind me saying so, but I see so much of myself in you."

"Really?" Marlene asks, her breath hiccuping out of her, face feeling swollen and hot. She's
never been someone who can manage to cry 'prettily'. With her, it's twisting features, overly
red skin, and snot.

"I've seen you grow up since you were eleven years old, and you have grown into a bright,
strong young woman. You should be proud of who you are," McGonagall says, squeezing her
shoulder before sweeping to her feet.

"Thank you," Marlene croaks. "I'm trying to be."

McGonagall smiles at her. "Sometimes, that's the very first step. Keep trying, Ms. McKinnon.
Keep trying."

Hogwarts circa February, 1978

Dorcas doesn't think she's ever experienced anything like this before. It's not something she
ever actively wished for, as she didn't really know it was possible, but she finds herself
feeling grateful for it nonetheless, like it's something she's always wanted but never had the
words for, a dream not fully formed.

The queer club makes her feel safe.

Now, Dorcas has never been one to be afraid in situations or environments where she's not
safe. She also hasn't gone out of her way to make life harder on herself by being brazen about
things that aren't anyone's business unless she decides it is.

There's absolutely no reason she should have to announce to anyone that she's a lesbian. For
example, Avery has repeatedly made advances for her in the past, saying filthy things and
trying to touch her until she hexed him, and even then, she felt no need to clarify her
preferences for girls. What she feels and who she desires doesn't decide how she should be
respected and treated. Avery should simply back the fuck off because she made it very clear
he needed to; her being a lesbian has absolutely nothing to do with that.

No, Dorcas isn't afraid to be who she is, and she isn't afraid to require the respect she
deserves as a human being—not just a lesbian, or a woman. But that doesn't mean there's not
something very calming about being in a room full of people who get it, who are like her, or
similar. That doesn't mean she's not relaxed in a way she's never, not once in her life, felt
before outside of being with her friends.

Dorcas has only ever kissed one girl. Pandora. It had been lovely, once they stopped laughing
and clacking teeth and bumping noses. Dorcas always remembers it fondly, pleased that it
was her very first kiss—her only one, still, but that's besides the point. They've never been
anything other than friends, though, so the snogging was different than what Dorcas is sure it
would be with someone she actually fancies.

Looking around the room, Dorcas sees many different girls, and it warms her to see how
many there are that are with other girls, undeniably a couple. She is also shamelessly warmed
by the blatant looks she's getting from the girls who clearly aren't dating anyone but
obviously take an interest in her. Really, she's rather content to wait and see which one will
approach.

Someone eventually does.

"Dorcas, isn't it?" The girl smiles, and Dorcas recognizes her faintly. A Hufflepuff in the
same year. "We're in Herbology together. I'm Sienna Stull."

"Right, Sienna," Dorcas says, snapping her fingers. "Yes, I remember you. Didn't you—"

"Fall into a case of bouncing bulbs and get throttled by them so bad that I had to go to the
infirmary?" Sienna cuts in dryly, lips twitching. "Yes, that was me."

Dorcas bites her lip, trying not to laugh. "Sorry. I know that must be awful to be remembered
for."

"It's alright. I find it funny now," Sienna says. "Not so much when I had two bruised eyes, but
time has a way of making things seem lighter than they were when you experienced them.
You can laugh about it, if you like. I do."

"Oh, well, in that case," Dorcas replies, huffing out a laugh, and Sienna grins at her. "No, I'm
joking. I'm glad you healed up and—" Dorcas abruptly cuts herself off, freezing, her words
failing her. Sienna has just shifted slightly to the side, and over her shoulder, across the room,
Dorcas can see Marlene McKinnon talking to a couple.
"Dorcas?" Sienna prompts cautiously. "Are you alright?"

Dorcas struggles to respond for a long moment. How did she miss Marlene? It's Marlene.
Dorcas always knows when Marlene is in the same room as her, solely so she can properly
glare at her. It's just… She wasn't expecting Marlene to be here. Not here. Why is she here?

Distantly, Dorcas can think past the roaring in her ears to remind herself that there are many,
many ways to be queer. She has learned that just from being here and talking to so many
different people. Marlene's presence here doesn't necessarily have to mean that she fancies
women.

But what if she does?

"Excuse me," Dorcas mumbles distractedly, offering Sienna a quick smile before slipping
away without looking back.

She needs someone. Any one of her friends will do, honestly. Just one, who will tell her that
she's not mental for being desperate to know in what way Marlene McKinnon is queer. It
doesn't—well, she has spent the last three years despising her, and in doing so, she's learned
quite a bit about her. It's not unusual that she would be slightly miffed to have missed this.

The first friend she finds is Evan, who looks more relaxed than Dorcas has ever seen him.
There's a certain kind of peace on his face that makes Dorcas so very glad that this club
exists, purely because it has made him look like this.

"Alright?" Evan asks when she comes to a halt in front of him.

"Marlene McKinnon is here," Dorcas announces.

Evan blinks. "Yes, I know. I saw her already."

"And you didn't tell me?" Dorcas hisses, mildly betrayed by this. Surely all of her friends
know by now that anything involving Marlene—and despising her, obviously—is something
that Dorcas needs to be notified of.

"I expected you to know," Evan says, shrugging. "Wait, you didn't know? You always know."

Dorcas rolls her eyes. "Well, how was I to know, Evan? I didn't think she would be here."

"Why?"

"Because—what do you mean why?"

"I mean...why?" Evan ventures slowly. "Why is it out of the realm of possibility that
McKinnon is queer, Dorcas?"

"I—well, I don't know," Dorcas mutters, grimacing.

Evan arches an eyebrow at her. "You're not sure what to do with yourself now that you know
she's queer, are you?"

"How many times have I said I don't fancy McKinnon?"

"You said you'd be willing to snog her, too."

"So? That doesn't mean I fancy her. I've despised her for the last three years, Rosier. That
would be ridiculous, and I'm not a very ridiculous person, you know."

"Have you looked into a mirror lately, Meadowes?"

Dorcas reaches out and swats him on his arm, making him break out into a grin. "Oh, shut up.
Piss off. Whatever, so she's queer. It doesn't matter. I don't care."

"No, not at all," Evan teases.

"Anyway," Dorcas says forcefully, "this is nice, isn't it?"

"Mhm, I'd say so," Evan agrees, nodding. "I bet it was nice being chatted up by Sienna, too. I
saw that, by the way. Too bad you got distracted; she seems to have moved on."

"Ah, it's fine," Dorcas mumbles, waving her hand as she cranes her head to see Sienna talking
with some other girl now, both seeming very happy and properly invested in doing so.
Helplessly, Dorcas finds her gaze crawling back to Marlene again, who is talking with James
now. For a beat, she stares, frustrated by her own curiosity, then she forces herself to focus
back on Evan. "You know Sienna, then?"

"Not really." Evan shrugs and chuckles. "I was just talking to her and a group of others
earlier. Fun topic, actually. Queer awakenings, or how we realized we were queer."

"Oh, that is a fun topic," Dorcas agrees, grinning. "Hear any good ones, did you?"

Evan waggles his eyebrows at her. "I heard Remus' name mentioned a lot, unsurprisingly.
He's about the only one all the blokes and girls who fancies boys can agree on, really. Some
interesting ones were Pince, Pomfrey, McGonagall, and various portraits around the castle.
One bloke said a suit of armor, which was mildly concerning."

"A suit of armor?" Dorcas chokes out. "Don't tell me there was someone wanking to metal,
Evan."
"Well, he didn't go into detail, thankfully, but he did say there was something about chainmail
that did it for him," Evan informs her, and Dorcas busts out laughing.

Dorcas shakes her head as she calms down. "Oh, I love this. This club is brilliant. Honestly,
good for him, yeah?"

"Yeah," Evan agrees with an amused hum. He tilts his head curiously. "You know, I've never
actually asked yours. I feel like I should know this about you, but I don't."

"To be fair, I don't really have a traditional one," Dorcas admits thoughtfully. "I'd say mine is
an anti-awakening."

"Oh?" Evan prompts, eyebrows raised in interest, but before Dorcas can respond, the sight of
Marlene and James approaching steals their focus.

James gives them a tight smile. "Hello, what are we talking about?"

"Queer awakenings," Dorcas announces, and the topic must surprise Marlene, because she
makes an odd noise. "As I was saying before, mine was an anti-awakening, in a sense. I was
so disgusted by Avery in my third year that I realized I didn't fancy blokes at all. I was rather
calm about it."

"Ah, Viviane Travers," Evan adds with a wistful sigh. "My first girlfriend all through third
year and into the fourth, and the moment she decided it was time for us to shag, I broke both
our hearts rather than stomach it. I think I knew then."

Oh, Dorcas remembers that. She thinks that Evan did rather fancy Viviane quite a bit, but
Dorcas was a source of comfort and advice for him when the relationship started eroding. It
was her he was coming to when he needed to vent; it was her who told him in a roundabout
way to never, ever shag because he felt pressured to, but only if he wanted to. She had no
way of knowing that he simply never wanted to, which was and is well within his right; she
really just thought he was young and didn't feel ready, at that time. She knows now, of course,
that that wasn't the case, but she's so endlessly glad that she gave him the advice that she did.
He's happier for it.
"Can I ask?" James says slowly, curious but cautious in an attempt not to be unintentionally
rude. Dorcas tries not to get defensive of Evan. "Just...have you tried telling anyone you've
dated that—that you don't want to shag?"

Evan gives him a small, bitter smile. "You'd be surprised at the responses you'll get to
something like that. Some of them were fine with it at first, thought I was a gentleman, even
liked that I never seemed to want them only for getting off...but then it was like I couldn't
love them enough in their eyes if I wasn't physically showing it. I eventually gave up."

Dorcas feels her heart give a small pang. They've talked about this before, not just her and
Evan, but all of them with Evan. He's gone through one relationship after the next, because
everyone eventually, inevitably wants to shag—and he just doesn't, and isn't going to, and
won't force himself. He shouldn't fucking have to. He shouldn't feel like he has to warn for
something like that, as if it's a problem when it isn't.

And, alright, Dorcas knows she's a little heated about the subject, as well as defensive of
Evan, but she can't help it. He's her friend, one of her very best friends, and she has gotten a
front row seat to seeing precisely how it can affect someone when, essentially, they've been
reduced to one role in their life by their family's expectations to do the one thing they don't
want to. He's explained it before, or tried to; that absent feeling of desire, the complete lack
of it, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy affection, being held and holding others, a snog
here and there when the mood strikes, flirting and spending time with another human being.
It's just the shagging bit he has no interest in.

He'd admitted to them that he genuinely couldn't stomach it the first and only time he actually
thought about doing it. It had repulsed him, he'd said, purely because he was overly aware
that he didn't want to and he would be forcing himself. He'd stopped and never thought of it
again, and Dorcas wasn't the only in their friend group telling him that he didn't have to try at
all, that there was nothing wrong with him. He'd been frustrated, because he said a part of
him felt that it was silly, seeing as the topic of shagging never bothered him, and he could be
just as filthy and naughty as anyone else when in a playful mood. It had come as a mild
surprise—to Dorcas, at least—but Barty was probably Evan's biggest comfort with that.

Barty, being a bloke who enjoys shagging a lot, had said it rather bluntly that Evan's
relationship to desire was his, and there was no wrong way to do it. Coming from Barty, this
had actually soothed Evan quite a bit. Over time, he'd ended up accepting himself as he was
and being unapologetic about it, though the family legacy still weighed heavily on him—and
still does, Dorcas knows, and likely always will. In doing so, though, he's mostly sworn off
relationships for now, and Dorcas' heart hurts for him. It's not fair. He shouldn't feel like he
has to come with a warning.

Like Marlene read her mind, she frowns and says, "You shouldn't feel like you have to come
with a warning. Shagging's brilliant when it's wanted, but it's not the point of being with
someone. Not everyone thinks that way."

Oh, Dorcas could kiss her. It's lovely that he's hearing that from people who aren't just his
best friends. Evan seems pleased by it as well. She knows his tells, knows the meaning
behind the curl at the corners of his lips, knows the shift of warmth flooding into his eyes.
Oh, she really could kiss Marlene for that. Well. Not—obviously not really, that's just an
exaggeration, and Dorcas is now metaphorically telling her mind to sit down and shut the
fuck up.

"I'm seeing that," Evan admits, his gaze drifting around the room. Dorcas has seen him
talking to a few people, some that she sent his way the moment she found out they felt like he
does, or similar. "I've met a few people like me tonight. Didn't know there was anyone else."

"Ah, you'll always be one of a kind in my eyes, Rosier," Dorcas tells him, because he will.
She nudges him with her elbow. "But this is nice, isn't it? Having people who get it. I know—
I mean, of course we all support you, but it has to get annoying being surrounded by those of
us obsessed with shagging."

"Sometimes, yeah. Merlin, Regulus had been awful lately," Evan mutters, grimacing slightly.
"I've never seen him like this. He's so—" Dorcas elbows him sharply, "—ow! What was that
for?" He rubs his arm and frowns at her, but she stares at him, willing him to understand what
he's just done. After a beat, his eyes widen slightly, and he rasps, "Ah, shit."

Well done, Evan, Dorcas thinks with an internal groan. Sure, just reveal Regulus' recent and
persistent spiral into a mounting desire to shag to the source of that spiral. Merlin, damage
control is about to be fun. Or maybe James will be oblivious to this sort of thing, too, seeing
as he's easily missed so many other things. One look at his face tells Dorcas that this is not
the case. He has not missed this, not at all.
"Sorry," James says weakly, "did—did you just say Regulus? What, ah, did you mean by that,
exactly? He's been—"

"It's because he nearly died," Dorcas cuts in blandly, flicking her fingers lazily. "Nothing
you're doing, James, I'm sure. But, you see, when someone nearly dies, they're often gripped
with the urge to live, as it were, and for a repressed gay boy who's a bit of a whore, this
includes shagging."

You're welcome, Reg, Dorcas thinks, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She's so tempted to
just tell James to go shag him. Maybe that would solve all their problems.

"I—whore? Did you just call Regulus a whore?" James blurts out, seeming genuinely
offended on Regulus' behalf. "He's not a fucking—don't call him that. Don't talk about him
that way."

Dorcas immediately looks over at Evan, because this is fucking hilarious, and they bust out
laughing the moment their eyes meet. Regulus has shamelessly called himself a whore for
James Potter. Oh, if only James knew. Of course, none of them really mean it maliciously; it's
just them as the friends they are.

"Slytherins," Marlene mumbles under her breath, like they're foreign creatures no one can
make sense of, no matter how long they're studied. Dorcas quite likes the thought.

Evan chokes off his laughter, shaking his head, and he starts in on the damage control as well.
He moves the topic along, or tries to, by asking, "And you, James? What was your queer
awakening, then?"

James does not respond. He's just staring, his eyes glazed over, visibly lost in his own head.
Dorcas wonders what he's thinking about. She sort of hopes he's doing something naughty,
like picturing Regulus naked. Regulus would be so pleased if he did that, honestly. He
wouldn't say so, but Dorcas knows him well enough to know that he would be.

"James?" Marlene prompts.

Blinking rather violently, James gives his head a legitimate shake and checks back into the
planet. "Hm?"

"I asked what your queer awakening was," Evan says slowly.

"Oh, right. Remus, third year," James replies, then freezes as his eyes widen. "Wait, fuck,
don't tell Sirius."

"Bloody hell, that's just too good," Marlene declares, cackling, and she has every right to,
seeing as this one of the funniest things Dorcas has ever heard in her life. The boyfriend and
the brother? "His boyfriend was your queer awakening, and then you ended up dating his
little brother. James, you're lucky he loves you so much, or I think he'd try to kill you, mate."

"You really just looked at Sirius and thought to yourself, hm, how can I drive you further into
that Black family madness?" Dorcas teases, helplessly entertained and endeared. Oh, James,
she thinks, struggling not to grin.

"You're a brave, yet stupid man, James Potter," Evan says, which means he is also feeling
fond.

"In my defense, it was a harmless crush that happened before either of them even started
fancying one another, and as for dating Regulus… I will have you know, Sirius is very
supportive of our relationship. He thinks I'm a good influence on his little brother, actually, so
there you have it," James replies with a sniff, like he refuses to be ashamed.

"Brave, yet stupid," Dorcas agrees with Evan, sending James a playful smile rather against
her will. She can't help it. She really has so much hope for him and Regulus; if this whole
situation goes bad, it's going to devastate them all, at this point. James has no idea just how
happy he makes Regulus, and if that gets ruined… Oh, Dorcas doesn't even want to think
about it. The perfect distraction comes in the form of Marlene, unsurprisingly. Her gaze turns
right to her, and she can't stop herself from being curious, desperate to know. "And what
about you, McKinnon? What was your queer awakening?"
There's a notable pause, and Dorcas can see some of the color drain from Marlene's face as
James shoots her a quick look. Immediately, Dorcas feels a little bad for asking, for wanting
to know so much. She has no right to the information, really, no more than anyone else. She's
just about to take the question back and change the subject when Marlene sucks in a sharp,
stilted breath and sets her shoulders, meeting her gaze and essentially shutting her up with
one look.

"That'd be you, Meadowes," Marlene announces, and Dorcas feels like she briefly blacks out.
The roaring in her ears is back and loud, because she's struggling to make sense of this. Her?
She's Marlene McKinnon's queer awakening? That's—there's no fucking way. Dorcas would
have known! She wouldn't have missed it, being as aware of Marlene as she is.

Dorcas blinks rapidly. "Me? Wait, I was your queer awakening? When was this?"

"Ah, fourth year," Marlene says nervously, and Dorcas freezes in place. No. No, not this. "I
mean, I'd seen you before, of course, but we never really met until that potions class. You
said hello, and I was—well, you have a nice voice, has anyone ever told you that? I never
heard it before then, and then you—you cupped my hands to show me how to properly chop
the ingredients, do you remember that?" Marlene's eyes grow a little foggy, while a part of
Dorcas' brain is just begging Marlene to shut up as an entirely separate part wants her to
never stop talking. "Your rings… I remember looking at them and not being able to look
away. You still wear the same one on your thumb with the moth." Dorcas instantly reaches up
to touch her ring. Her favorite ring. The very first she ever properly made. Marlene's eyes
snap to the motion, staring at it. "That one, yeah. And that's why I...tipped over the cauldron.
I was—ah, that is to say, you rather sent me into something of a crisis, if I'm honest."

Dorcas doesn't really know what to do with this, honestly. It feels like some great revelation,
having this revealed to her. She genuinely could have never predicted it.

Not envy, then. Right. Dorcas gets it now. Marlene wasn't the way she was because of envy;
she was just a mess because she learning she was queer for the very first time. Well… Well,
isn't that something? Suddenly, Dorcas is vigorously forgiving Marlene for anything and
everything she's ever done. This is quite literally the greatest thing she's ever heard.

"Well, that's just...really flattering for me and embarrassing for you," Dorcas admits, because
that's what it boils down to, but she doesn't mean it as an insult. She's currently thriving.
Marlene has just given her a lovely, lovely gift. The same girl who ignored her, who
pretended she didn't exist, fancied her. Oh, that's just too good. That's fucking wonderful.

Marlene looks mortified, though, and Dorcas can't have that. She has absolutely nothing to be
ashamed of. In fact, Dorcas is so pleased by this that she chuckles and swivels her ring
around her finger, slipping it off. It's her favorite, yes, but it apparently does a lot more for
Marlene than it does her. It holds sentimental value, but it feels fitting in a way to give it to
Marlene, and she wants her to have it.

So, she reaches out to take Marlene's hand, catching her gaze and trapping it, feeling a sense
of power and elation from the way Marlene seems unable to look away, visibly flustered. The
brush of their hands is a curious thing, really. They haven't touched in three years, and that
shouldn't be a significant thing, but it hits Dorcas right in the middle of the chest with impact.
It's a rush, a swoop in her stomach, just from the warmth of Marlene's hand against her own.
She slides the ring on, letting it adjust, and then she lingers for a moment, a little swept up in
the tingles that run in circuits under her skin. In the end, she pulls away with a smile, pleased
with herself.

Dorcas flicks her gaze over Marlene's face, taking in her wide eyes and parted lips. "I made
that. It'll stay on and remain in perfect condition no matter what you're doing or where you're
at. Keep it."

"But it's yours?" Marlene replies, baffled, but she nonetheless tucks her thumb in like she
wants to keep it.

"Which means I could give it to whoever I decide to," Dorcas says. It's as she continues to
examine Marlene that she reaches the conclusion that she just gave her favorite ring to the
girl she spent three years despising, and suddenly, that seems so foolish. Oh. Oh, bloody hell,
she didn't actually despise her at all, did she? Love's not far from hate, you know. Maybe you
just got them a bit mixed up. Thought you despised her, but you just fancied her, Pandora had
said, and is she ever wrong?

All this time she's spent being irritated because Marlene ignored her, wanting Marlene to
notice her, wanting Marlene overall. The sad thing is, Dorcas can't even pinpoint if it started
in fourth year, from their first meeting. She remembers feeling rather neutral on the subject of
Marlene, thinking she was a little strange with how she was acting, and maybe innocently
finding her pretty in a distant way, but it wasn't until Marlene knocked that cauldron over in
her haste to get away from Dorcas that feelings surged bright and loud in her chest, then
never quite let her go.

After that, Dorcas never quite shut up about Marlene. She searched for her in every room
with the excuse that she just wanted to properly glare at her. She watched her so closely that
she learned things about her from afar, all things that she told herself she didn't like, and
maybe love isn't so far from hate at all. This isn't love, and it was never quite hate, but it
could be the first and never the last.

The thing is, Dorcas is so sick and tired of pretending. She doesn't want to pretend anymore.

Dorcas shakes her head. "Oh, I really don't have as much depth to me as I originally thought."
This makes Evan laugh, and Dorcas lightly clicks her tongue, though she's not really agitated
by it. If anything, she's intrigued. "Well, now this is just flattering for you, McKinnon, and
embarrassing for me."

"Ah, what is, exactly?" Marlene asks with a cough, and the way she's looking at her… Oh,
Dorcas can do something with that. Dorcas is going to do something with that.

"Come on, I'd rather just show you," Dorcas says, because she really would, and she thinks
maybe she has for a long time now without even knowing it. She holds out her hand, and her
heart races when Marlene reaches out to take it.

It's thrilling getting to pull Marlene through a room full of people to find a vacant, secluded
spot by the wall just for them. It's even more thrilling that there's a room full of people that
they can be together in front of without worrying about anything but themselves. Dorcas
turns to face Marlene, but doesn't drop her hand, once again just staring at her for a moment,
drinking her in.

"What?" Marlene croaks, swallowing harshly. She's nervous. Dorcas can tell she is, and it
softens her.

"I'm going to kiss you now, if that's alright with you," Dorcas tells her, then waits to find out
if that's alright or not. She hopes it's alright. She really wants it to be alright.
"Oh," Marlene chokes out. "Really? I mean, yes. Yes, that's alright. That's—that's really
alright with me."

Dorcas is more relieved than she'll ever admit to, and maybe she's a little impatient, because
she doesn't waste another second. She drops Marlene's hand to cup her jaw, tilt her face up
just a little, and kiss her.

If someone told Dorcas at fourteen years old that she would be kissing Marlene McKinnon a
mere three years later, she would have laughed right in their face. She would have found it
the most preposterous thing anyone could say to her. She would have gone out of her way to
make sure it didn't happen, and never would. And yet. And yet, here she is, leaning into a kiss
she is so very grateful to find herself in the middle of.

It starts out simple and tentative, as most first kisses do, but it doesn't stay that way. Marlene
is shockingly bold, for all her nerves, and she has her hands on Dorcas' hips in seconds,
pulling her closer and deepening the kiss with an exhaled sigh against Dorcas' lips.

Oh, this is good, Dorcas thinks, and then that's the last coherent thought she has for a while.

It's just that Marlene clearly knows what the fuck she's doing, or she has some secret magic
located past her lips, because Dorcas feels rather swept off her feet, actually. She's only ever
heard of feelings like this in books; that music-swelling, heart-stopping, foot-popping
moment of pure bliss just from the shared intimacy of a kiss. Marlene is snogging her like
she's already familiar with it, like a long-lost lover returning to the comforts of home after
being gone, like she's spent ages looking at Dorcas' mouth and memorizing it so well that she
knows precisely how she wants to kiss her. And she does. She clearly has her opportunity,
and she's bloody well taking it.

Dorcas all but sinks into it, a little startled by how no part of her rejects it at all. The girl she
supposedly hates, and her body practically lights up from the top of her head to the bottom of
her feet just from a kiss. Ridiculously, Dorcas thinks that Marlene could have honestly just
waltzed right up to her and snogged her at any point in the last three years, and she would
have melted instantly. It's genuinely that good.
Marlene's mouth is warm and inviting, and the soft glide of her tongue against Dorcas' own
sends a shudder through her, but it's Marlene's quiet, muffled moan that sends a ripple of
triumph down her spine. She can feel it; the victory of it; her mind rejoicing, like finally, like
I won, like notice me now, McKinnon? Oh, she's wanted her for so long, hasn't she? That
would be embarrassing if she weren't currently sinking her hands into Marlene's hair and
tasting the next delicious sound that slips from her mouth to Dorcas'.

"Oh, Merlin," Marlene breathes out as soon as she pulls away, and it has to be her that does it,
because Dorcas genuinely would have done that forever. Marlene blinks rapidly, her eyes
glazed, mouth a little wet and swollen and open. She looks like temptation personified. "I'm
truly a lesbian."

Dorcas blinks, then she laughs. It's a startled, delighted noise that jumps from her mouth, and
she can't help but grin when Marlene's face turns red. "Did you have doubts?"

"No," Marlene rasps, "but if I did, I wouldn't anymore."

"Is that right?" Dorcas murmurs, lips curled up, and she feels like she could start preening
again. It's so strange. Dorcas is confident, and it's true confidence, not an act. She's never felt
the need to perform for anyone, or put on an act, or show off. But for Marlene? Merlin help
her, she wants Marlene to notice her and like what she sees and not be able to look away.

Marlene bites her lip, which is rather rude of her, seeing as they're having a conversation. It's
distracting, and Dorcas is trying to focus. "You're—really good at that. Really good."

"Why thank you, McKinnon," Dorcas replies, even more pleased now.

"Marlene. You've snogged me, Dorcas. I should think calling me by name isn't too much to
ask for," Marlene mumbles.

"I suppose not." Dorcas drags her fingers further through Marlene's hair and dips her head to
the side to place her mouth next to Marlene's ear, whispering, like it's a lovely little secret,
"Marlene, Marlene, Marlene."
Marlene's fingers clamp down on Dorcas' waist, digging in as a harsh breath punches out of
her chest. Dorcas closes her eyes, mouth busy down the side of Marlene's throat, because it's
right there and she's curious. She's so helplessly curious about everything to do with Marlene
McKinnon.

What she's learning is that Marlene quite likes her mouth and the things it does, enough that
she chases after it, turning her head to snog her again. Dorcas is more than happy about this.

Dorcas has no idea how long they stand there, just snogging. It could be anywhere between
twenty seconds or twenty years, and it's still all she needs and not nearly enough. Either way,
she's dazed and desperate for more the moment Marlene breaks away to suck in a deep
breath.

"We should—we could go somewhere...not here," Marlene says, her voice hoarse and her
chest heaving.

Dorcas thinks Marlene is the most brilliant person in the world. How she ever thought she
was stupid baffles her. "We could. Let's do that, yes."

They do that. She grabs Marlene by the wrist and starts tugging her through the room, and
Marlene nearly overtakes her in her haste to get away even faster. They have no choice but to
walk past some of their friends on the way out, but Dorcas honestly doesn't even care that
they're all being grinned at. She does note that James sticks his hand out down low by his
body when Marlene stumbles past, which she dutifully smacks with her own like she's just
scored.

They hardly make it very far. Literally just a bit up the corridor, and it's Marlene's fault,
because she trails the tips of her fingers up Dorcas' arm, soft and sacred like she's touching
something of great value, and Dorcas' skin breaks out into goosebumps as her heart flips over
in her chest. She doesn't even mean to; she's suddenly turning to catch Marlene's face in her
hands and kissing her deeply as she backs her up against the wall. They're making no
progress, as far as getting somewhere, but Dorcas doesn't even mind.
Marlene places one hand on the small of her back while she lifts the other to sweep Dorcas'
locks over her shoulder to reveal her neck, breaking from the kiss with a muffled groan. She
folds in and starts pressing kisses under her jaw, adding teeth and tongue in the mix when
Dorcas tilts her head back and blinks up at the ceiling, dazed, a soft sigh falling out of her
mouth. Marlene presses into her lower back, urging her closer, and Dorcas sways in until
they're as close as they can get.

"You're so beautiful, it's killing me; it's been killing me since I was fifteen," Marlene
whispers fervently, like she's condemning Dorcas for a horrible crime.

Dorcas is more than willing to plead guilty in this case. She's exhilarated by the thought,
really. "You have a really strange way of showing it, if I'm honest."

"What was I supposed to do? You hated me," Marlene mumbles, lifting her head as Dorcas
rolls hers forward, the both of them swaying into each other, noses nearly brushing. "You
can't hate me anymore, surely. Not now."

"No?" Dorcas asks with a breathless laugh, rocking forward to brush a kiss over Marlene's
mouth, just a ghost of one, and then she sways back as Marlene tries to lean into it.

"Seems like you don't," Marlene says suggestively, pulling her hand from the curl of Dorcas'
neck to cup her side instead, sliding her palm over the curve of it. "If you do, you have a
really strange way of showing it."

"You ignored me for three years," Dorcas points out, "so I think I have every right."

"I didn't, really," Marlene confesses. "You were always in the back of my mind since the
moment I met you. I couldn't get you out, no matter how hard I tried."

Dorcas searches her eyes. "Why were you trying?"

"Because I thought I had to," Marlene admits.

"You don't," Dorcas blurts out, earnest without even meaning to be. "Merlin, don't. I want to
live in your mind."

Marlene breaks out into a grin, her eyes sparkling in the dim corridor. "Oh, do you?"

"Love me, hate me, I don't care," Dorcas breathes out, leaning in to press their foreheads
together, her heart thumping hard in her chest. "Just don't be indifferent. Let me matter to
you."

"You do," Marlene says softly. "You already do. You always have. Dorcas, you have no idea
how much."

"Show me," Dorcas murmurs, nudging forward, and Marlene surges forward to kiss her and
do just that.

Hogwarts circa February, 1978

Marlene buries her face into her pillow and screams. She can hear Lily and Mary laughing at
her, but she ignores them, flailing and kicking her feet as she genuinely shouts into the pillow
until her throat is a little raw. She just has to get it out. She has to release some of this built up
emotion, or she'll just fucking explode. Her pillow is so very helpful.

When she lifts her head, Marlene clears her throat and sits up, delicately sitting her pillow in
her lap and pretending as if that never even happened. She feels better.

"So, I take it that things went well with Dorcas, then?" Lily prompts with a grin, raising her
eyebrows. She's sitting cross-legged on her own bed, and for once, Mary is perched on it next
to her, drawn in by Marlene's display. There's distance between them, though, when there
never used to be.
"Yeah," Marlene breathes out.

"Oh?" Mary leans forward, eyes bright with mischief and curiosity. "Did you two shag?"

"Mary!"

"What? As if you're not desperate to talk about it. Get on with it, Marlene. Well? Did you?"

Marlene bites her lip. "No, but—well, we didn't really have a chance. We couldn't come back
here, because you two are here, so thanks for that, you twats. We couldn't go to her dorm,
because of her dormmates. Besides, we're not even—we aren't together, or I—I don't think
we are. We just snogged. Mostly."

"Good snogging, though, I'd say, by the state of you," Mary teases, gesturing between her and
the pillow.

"Really, really good," Marlene admits, twisting the ring Dorcas gave her around her thumb,
her heart doing a happy little twirl in her chest. She's going to have to scream again.

Lily hums. "So, you're not dating?"

"I—well, er, we didn't really talk about anything like that. We were a little…busy." Marlene
clears her throat. "I didn't want to assume. She—I mean, I don't think she hates me anymore,
at least, so that's good."

"You—" Lily stares at her, face blank, and then she reaches up to shield her eyes like Marlene
is such an embarrassment that she can't even look at her, and Mary busts out laughing so loud
and so hard that she nearly rocks right off the bed.
"What?!" Marlene cries, laughing a little right along with her, because Mary's laugh is
infectious and seeing Lily so exasperated is always amusing. "What have I said?"

"I would hope that she doesn't bloody hate you at this point, Marlene," Lily says
incredulously, dropping her hand. "Christ, the girl was snogging you like she'd rather die than
stop. I know hate. That wasn't hate. That wasn't even dislike. That's a girl who fancies you if
I've ever seen one."

"Truly," Mary agrees, snorting as she pops back up. "What are you waiting for, McKinnon?
Go get the girl."

Marlene hesitates. "What, right now?"

"Yes!" Mary and Lily explode at the same time, scrambling from the bed to shoo at her,
laughing and yanking her to her feet. "Right now! Go on. Don't walk, run."

"I don't even know where she is!" Marlene yelps as they shove her towards the door.

"Leave that to me," Lily declares firmly, grasping Marlene by her wrist and dragging her
along. Mary follows them all the way to the boys' dorm, where Lily knocks sharply on the
door, and muffled laughter from inside abruptly goes silent.

After a long moment, the door opens just a tiny crack, and Sirius peeks out suspiciously,
showing only a sliver of his face, one eye narrowed. There's a pause, then the door shuts
again. There's low, hissing voices and what sounds like a flurry of movement, followed by a
muffled thump, a loud crash, Remus cursing up a storm, and more silence. Another pause.

The door wrenches open abruptly, Sirius grinning out at them as he leans one arm against the
doorway. "Hello, ladies. How can I be of service this fine afternoon?"

"Potter!" Lily barks, and there's only a few seconds before James is stumbling into view, head
popping over Sirius' shoulder. He blinks and pushes his glasses up his nose.
"Hi, Lily, Mary, Marlene," James greets warmly, propping his arm casually on Sirius'
shoulder. They're both very pointedly blocking most of the view into the room. "Lovely to
see you, as always. Did you need something?"

"Lily," Mary says gently, "that's not why we're here."

Lily's eye twitches, but she exhales. "Right. No, I don't care what you're all cooking up in
there. We need a favor, and you're going to do it. I don't care how you do it, but you will
nevertheless get it done, James."

"Well, that depends on the favor, Evans," James replies with complete sincerity, and Marlene
takes a moment to appreciate how far he's come. Before Regulus, James would have tripped
all over himself to do anything Lily asked of him. It's at the point now where Marlene keeps
forgetting that James has ever loved anyone other than Regulus at all. The poor thing is so
smitten that it'd be pitiful if they weren't so sickeningly happy.

"I promise, it's not a difficult request," Mary assures him. "We just need you to find out
where Dorcas is in the castle exactly right at this moment, and don't say you can't do it,
because we all know you can. We don't know how the four of you do it, and right now, we
don't actually care. Just do it for Marlene. She has to go run off and make Dorcas her
girlfriend."

"Ask her," Marlene chokes out.

"It's called optimism and confidence, of which I have enough of for all of us," Mary replies.

"Oh, that's so sweet," James says instantly, practically turning into a puddle. "You're going to
do a big, romantic gesture? You, Marlene? That's just—" He cuts himself off, clapping his
hands together. "Of course we'll help."

And, with that, Sirius slams the door shut in their faces.
"Sometimes, I just…" Lily raises her hands and makes her fingers into curled claws, like
she's choking something, and Marlene nods in complete understanding.

Mary, who has a better tolerance for their antics, chuckles and smiles fondly. "Oh, stop it.
You know you love them."

"Well, if we've learned nothing else from Dorcas and Marlene," Lily mutters, jabbing her
thumb towards Marlene, "we can be sure that you can love and hate people."

"Did you have to say love?" Marlene mumbles. "I really don't want to be in love with her
already. Haven't I embarrassed myself over her enough?"

"Love isn't embarrassing," Mary says quietly.

Marlene wishes she doesn't see the way Lily immediately looks to her shoes, her hair
sweeping forward to shield her face, which means she completely misses the tender look that
crosses Mary's face as she glances at her like she can't help it, an unconscious thing.
Sometimes, Marlene wants to take a frozen photo (like the Muggles do) of the expressions
that form on Mary's face when she's looking at Lily, then slap them down in front of Lily and
demand her to give one fucking description of what she's looking at, because if she said
anything other than love, she'd be lying.

Like they're stuck in perfect, awful sync, Mary looks away only seconds before Lily lifts her
head, and neither of them see anything at all. Marlene presses her lips into a thin line,
wondering if they're so keen to have her go after Dorcas so they can, in some way, live
vicariously through her.

The door wrenches open again before Marlene can figure out what to do about this, and it's
Sirius there, grinning right at her. "She's coming down from the owlery. If you go now, you'll
meet her halfway and have a few secret alcoves close by."
"That's romance done right, Sirius," Lily says in approval, nodding her head in gratitude
before turning to gently push Marlene to the stairs. "Go on."

"Off you pop," Mary agrees, grinning as she gives her a little shove, smacking her on the arse
as she goes.

"Have fun!" Sirius sing-songs.

Marlene mostly goes just to get away from them, to be honest.

Nonetheless, she does go, and the moment she sees Dorcas, she realizes she's just going to
have to get used to being embarrassing about this girl. She's ridiculously, helplessly a mess
the moment she lays eyes on her. A mixture of excitement and nerves, wariness and hope,
bravery and fear.

Dorcas doesn't notice her. She's reading a letter as she walks, chuckling fondly to herself as
she does, so Marlene assumes it's from her cousin. She was rather pissed when Dorcas was
telling her all about her family, but Marlene remembers every detail, like her brain would
never let her forget. There's just no ignoring Dorcas Meadowes, or anything about her.

"Is that Joash?" Marlene asks as Dorcas wanders by, completely absorbed into the letter.

Dorcas jolts, her head snapping up and swinging around, lowering the letter as soon as she
sees her. After a moment where they just stare at each other in silence, Dorcas clears her
throat and moves closer to her. "Yeah, it's Joash. He was telling me something his dad did.
I'm not sure if you remember, but my uncle is a bit—"

"Mental and deranged, but in the fun way," Marlene cuts in, lips twitching. "I remember."

"Oh," Dorcas says. She takes in a deep breath and raises her eyebrows, swinging her hands
idly at her sides, and Marlene almost wants to laugh. What do you do around the person you
spent hours snogging the previous night, then parted ways with without seeing where you
stand? Marlene never thought she would see Dorcas be anything other than confident and
poise, but here she is, an endearing mixture of awkward and flustered. "So. Ah, going to the
owlery?"

"No," Marlene replies, then just keeps looking at her. She's spent too long not letting herself
look at Dorcas, and now she wants to do it as much as Dorcas will allow.

"Here to see me, then?" Dorcas asks, narrowing her eyes slightly, like she's suspicious.

Marlene hums. "Yes."

"Oh." Dorcas looks mildly startled by this, then visibly pleased, which is working wonders
for Marlene's confidence at the moment. "Why?"

"You know, I rather thought we had this conversation last night," Marlene says, amused. "I
believe the deal was, you stop hating me as long as I stop ignoring you. Or some sort of
exchange like that. Beneficial for us both, really."

Dorcas arches an eyebrow. "Is it? How's that?"

"Well, I've the feeling you'd much rather spend your energy doing other things with me
besides hating me, and the last thing I want to do is ignore you," Marlene tells her.

"You're feeling bold today, I see," Dorcas notes, that secret smile at the corner of her mouth.

Marlene shrugs one shoulder lazily and pretends like her heart isn't about to leap up her
throat. "It comes and goes."

"Mhm." Dorcas' eyes narrow a little bit as she runs her tongue under her top lip, over teeth,
and she sucks on them as she folds up her letter and slides it into her pocket. Her mouth
curves, and her eyes are honey-brown in the glow of sunlight that streams through the high
windows. She idly starts moving forward, taking her time, looking thoughtful. "And how
would this work, exactly? This mutually beneficial deal of ours."

"Well, we'd make our own terms, wouldn't we?" Marlene murmurs, tracking her approach
with her eyes, shamelessly dragging her gaze down the length of Dorcas' body and right back
up, taking her time now that she's allowed. "How would you like it to work, Dorcas?"

Dorcas makes a low, pensive noise as she comes to a stop next to the wall and leans one
shoulder up against it, crossing her arms lazily. Marlene's gaze dips, then snatches right back
up when Dorcas stifles a laugh. "Oh, you know, I suppose that depends on what it is you
want, McKinnon."

"I want you to say my name," Marlene replies reflexively.

"Just say it? Nothing creative?" Dorcas' eyes gleam, lips curling up as she leans in. "Not
whisper it, or moan it? Where's your imagination?"

"I—you know," Marlene rasps, "you may have a point."

"Marlene," Dorcas says slowly, her mouth wrapping around the shape of her name like she's
savoring it. She softens her voice until it sounds like she's on the verge of pleading as she
whispers, "Marlene, Marlene, Marlene."

There is genuinely nothing in this world that Marlene would not do, or give, when Dorcas
sounds like that. It's almost fucking compulsive, the knee-jerk desire to give her anything she
wants. "And—and what do you want?"

"The same as you, I imagine," Dorcas says casually, leaning back with a small smile. "Only
difference is, I want you to ask for it. I want you to want me bad enough that you'd beg."

"I would," Marlene blurts out, and Dorcas once again looks very pleased. Oh, Marlene likes
pleasing her. She wants to keep doing that, keep making her happy.
"So," Dorcas prompts, holding her gaze. "Beg."

"You still hate me, don't you?" Marlene mutters, and Dorcas flashes her an unfairly beautiful
smile, eyes dancing with humor and preemptive delight. Well, Marlene can cast aside pride
for her. All in the name of making her happy, making her look pleased again; genuinely,
there's nothing Marlene wouldn't do, and with effort, too. So, she turns a bit to step forward
along the wall, reaching out to cup the side of Dorcas' neck and meet her gaze. "I'm sorry I
found you so beautiful that I panicked and ignored you for three years. I'm sorry I tipped over
our cauldron and was so flustered by you that I couldn't even apologize. You said you want to
live in my mind, and you do, Dorcas; you already do. I promise I'll never ignore you again,
and I'd really, really like it if, instead of hating me, you would try dating me instead."

"That's an apology and a request, but I don't hear you begging," Dorcas murmurs, leaning in,
dangerously close to being too close, which isn't close enough at this point.

Marlene licks her lips, her head clouding over from Dorcas' proximity, and she can hear how
ridiculously winded and hopeful she sounds when she says, "Please?"

She barely gets the full word out of her mouth before Dorcas is surging forward to kiss her,
desperate and deep and hard, like she wants it as badly as Marlene needs it. With a whimper
of relief, Marlene melts into it with such enthusiasm that she twists all the way around until
she's pressing Dorcas up against the wall, a sort of mockery of the previous night.

There's the shush of breaths mingling, whispered words not fully formed, and these valleys
can be crossed when there's a meeting in the middle. Marlene goes there, and Dorcas joins
her, and there's nothing as important as finding each other waiting. Marlene has spent too
long in hiding, and Dorcas has gone long enough setting this valley on fire. Here, there, it's
the promise of spring growing from cracked earth, ash drifting away in the wind as the
aftermath of the flames turns into home. They'll be here. They meet here, with a kiss.

"Fuck," Dorcas chokes out, slipping down the wall a little, because she's been trying
desperately to wind herself around Marlene like she can latch on and keep her, and Marlene
has been trying to help, because she would like her to.
In doing so, Marlene now has one hand hooked on the outside of her thigh, keeping her leg
up. Really, it would make more sense for Dorcas just to hop up into her arms and wrap both
legs around her waist; she's not very much taller than Marlene, really, and Marlene does have
a strong grip.

"Will you drop me?" Dorcas asks, because apparently Marlene said that last bit out loud,
though she hardly recalls. Her brain is a little scrambled from—well, everything, honestly.

Still, Marlene manages to announce, "Baby, you're not going anywhere."

"Pet names. That was fast," Dorcas says with a breathless laugh, pushing Marlene back by
the shoulders, waving her away a few more steps. It gives her the space to legitimately move
forward and do exactly what Marlene hoped she would—in her arms, legs around her waist,
holding on.

"I'm already halfway in love with you. Pet names are a pebble in the ocean compared to that,"
Marlene informs her, hauling Dorcas up higher a bit, then setting off to find one of those
secret alcoves Sirius mentioned.

Dorcas wraps her arms around Marlene's neck and kisses her with a low groan, which makes
Marlene stop, because she can't walk and snog at the same time. This seems to occur to
Dorcas as well, because she switches tactics and breaks away to start kissing along her jaw,
and it's very difficult for Marlene to focus enough to walk, but not impossible.

"Halfway?" Dorcas murmurs in her ear. "Surely you can do better than that, Marlene."

It takes genuine effort not to close her eyes and simply lay them out on the fucking floor, but
Marlene manages. At this point, she's ready to tear open a wall with her bare hands. Merlin,
when Dorcas says her name like that… "Maybe it's more than that, but I wanted to give the
illusion that I'm not absolutely pathetic about you. It is an illusion, I'm afraid. I'll have to ask
you to be careful with me, Dorcas; I've been nothing but a wreck with you since I was fifteen,
and I fear I'd be nothing but a wreck without."
"I was obsessed with you when you refused to acknowledge my existence," Dorcas informs
her. "Having you acknowledge my existence hasn't erased that obsession as I thought it
would. If anything, it's only made it so much worse."

"Good," Marlene says, her breath hitching as Dorcas gets her earlobe between her teeth, a
sensitive bit of flesh that nearly makes Marlene whine. Oh, thank fucking Merlin, there's a
sodding alcove. Fucking finally.

Dorcas pulls away to whisper, "In case I hadn't made it clear, the answer was yes to dating
you instead of hating you. But do you want to hear a secret, Marlene?"

"Yes," Marlene breathes out, because every single part of her is just one long litany of yes,
yes, yes about literally everything that's happening right now.

"I never did," Dorcas says softly, speaking directly next to Marlene's ear, hot breath against
sensitive skin. "I never even hated you at all."

"Oh, fucking—" Marlene cuts herself off, turning her head to bring their mouths together,
stumbling on the stairs in the alcove to lower them both down and gingerly laying Dorcas
back against the steps as carefully as possible.

"Come here. Fucking come here," Dorcas demands, opening the valley of her thighs wider
and yanking Marlene in, making her meet her there, too. Marlene goes so eagerly.

Breathing hard, Marlene can barely focus and speak between kisses, but she tries. "I'm not
going anywhere else. There's nowhere else I want to be.

Dorcas makes a broken noise and kisses her hard, with genuine passion, and then they're both
laughing breathlessly into the kiss, exhilarated and victorious, stunned beyond belief that
they've found their different ways here, but so thankful they did.

The typical boy doesn't get Dorcas Meadowes, and neither does the typical girl.
 Marlene does, though.

Chapter End Notes

dorlene, dorlene, dorlene <3 oh, how i love them so much.

there's a lot that happens in this chapter alone, so it would be too much for me to cover,
and i am very tired. so, i will wrap up quickly with a few key points that were very
special to me.

noémie was VERY special to me, despite being an oc. that moment between marlene
and mcgonagall was also very, very important to me, because sometimes we really do
just want someone we look up to to tell us that it's okay, that we're okay just as who we
are. (and if no one has ever told you, ill tell you, despite the fact that im just some
person behind a screen doing my best with life and not actually wise and DEFINITELY
not someone that anyone should be looking up to, but that's besides the point. the
POINT is, sometimes we just want to be told that it is okay, so just know that it is. it's
okay to be who you are. it's okay to learn, to grow, to change, and to accept yourself.
you're doing your best, and that IS enough.) getting to introduce zar was very fun!
getting to expand more on evan was very important to me as well. mary and lily being
great friends to marlene was ALSO very special to me. like i said, there was a lot, so let
me know your thoughts.
 ACT SIX: Part Two
Chapter Notes

here we are again!

yet another different pov chapter, this time with mary and lily! once again, ive put dates
before each scene, and you may recognize some scenes that were referenced earlier, or
used before, just now from a different perspective.

warnings for brief mary/sirius and lily/original male character, some jealousy, as well as
some arguing, awkward moments, and tension. there's also a brief discussion of how
queer people are treated unfairly.

with that being said, go forth and enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Hogwarts circa June, 1976

Lily has not had a good week. Actually, she'd go as far as saying she hasn't had a good month.
Maybe it's just been a bad year all the way around. Fifteen was an awful, shit age, and five
months into sixteen has proven that it's not much better.

Sometimes, Lily feels guilty for not wanting to go home. It's not so much that she doesn't
want to see her family, because she does, even Petunia. It's more that she hates feeling so
disconnected from something she loves. And magic? She loves magic. She loves everything
about it, even while not being ignorant to its flaws, of which there are many. And, for all the
shit she's dealt with while in Hogwarts, she nonetheless misses Hogwarts when she's gone.

This summer will no doubt be worse. She'll hardly be able to leave her house, in the endeavor
to avoid Severus, which will likely put her in the immediate vicinity of Petunia at all times.
Lily has always been able to get away when she needed to and have Severus keep her
company, and now she'll spend the entire sodding summer hidden away in her room, most
likely.
Lily's dreading it. She's been dreading every day before her from the moment she wakes up
each morning, and as much as she tries, she can't get that feeling to stop. Just a steady sense
of anxiety tangling her stomach into knots that won't leave her alone, won't go away, won't
give her a break.

Mary helps. Of course Mary does. Like she can sense when it's at its worst, she sweeps right
into the dorm and slides right into Lily's bed right next to her.

"I just saw James nearly burst into tears because Frank mentioned something about not being
here next year," Mary announces, lying on her back with her hands threaded on her stomach.
Lily is curled up on her side, trying to shrink into a ball and disappear from the world for a
while.

"That would be funny if I didn't feel the same exact way about Alice," Lily mumbles, which
is true. Much the same way Potter looks up to Frank, Lily idolizes Alice. It can get a little
frustrating when they're both trying to spend time with their respective favorite, except their
favorites are together, so it forces them to be near each other. Potter thinks it's fate, like a sign
that they're compatible, and Lily usually just gives up and waits for Alice to be alone, rather
than subject herself to the idiocy and arrogance in human form that is James Potter.

Mary hums. "They'll write. We'll see them again, Lily."

"I know," Lily says with a heavy sigh.

"You're moping," Mary announces. "Why are you moping?"

"I'm feeling mopey," Lily mutters, squinting at the side of Mary's face until she looks over.

"Well, we can't have that," Mary says, clicking her tongue as she turns over on her side to
face her. "Tell me why you're mopey so I can make you feel better about it."

"I'm not so sure that you can."

"Oh, you underestimate me?"

At that, Lily has to laugh, even if it's weak, and Mary grins in triumph. "No, I suppose not. I
know better."

"So? Why are you mopey?" Mary prompts patiently.

"It's just…" Lily trails off, because she genuinely isn't sure where to start. She's feeling like
this because of so many different things. She tries to be logical about it, separating all that has
her tangled up, because maybe if she could feel better about just one thing, the rest wouldn't
be so bad. "Do you ever feel like…? I mean, do you ever feel guilty for being upset that
you'll have to go without magic? Like—like you're just proving everyone right by missing
the witch you are when you can't be that at home? Do you—do you even feel that way at
all?"

Mary's eyebrows tug together thoughtfully, and she regards her for a long moment in
complete silence. She takes her response slowly, with care. "I suppose there are parts of
magic that I miss when I'm at home. The convenience of waving a wand for what you want,
for one thing. But I don't think that proves what you're insinuating. We exist in two worlds,
Lily, and that's—it's brilliant that we get to know both, but it's also hard when we can't
coexist in both at the same time."

"I know," Lily whispers.

"It's different for you, anyway," Mary murmurs. "You have Petunia and Snape, while I have
lovely family and friends."

Lily snorts. "Thank you for pointing that out, Mary."

"Well, it's true," Mary says. "Besides, it won't always be this way, you do realize? When
we're of age, we'll be able to coexist better, yeah? You're not—this isn't you snubbing
Muggles, or choosing magic over where you come from, Lily, I promise."
"I love being a muggle-born," Lily confesses softly, "and sometimes I think it's the hardest
thing I've ever dealt with."

Mary's face softens. "It's just a balance. You'll find it. We'll both find it, with time. Don't be
so hard on yourself. You always are, you know."

Lily just hums quietly, dropping her gaze as she picks at the sheet under her, between their
bodies. Mary's hand is resting lazily against the bed, her wand lying right in front of her
stomach with her fingers draped casually over it.

"What else?" Mary asks. "There's more. I know there is."

"Stop knowing things," Lily grumbles.

"Never," Mary teases, smiling gently when Lily lifts her gaze. She reaches out with her free
hand to poke Lily's arm. "Go on, then. What is it? Is it Snape?"

Lily groans and resists the urge to smother herself with her pillow. "Christ, don't remind me.
He's sure to try pestering me over the summer."

The worst part about it is, Lily just knows he will. He'll show up at her house and ask for her
to come down, and Lily will have to tell her parents no while trying not to cry, and she won't
even be able to properly explain to her parents what happened. Severus has been her best
friend since they were children, and that's done now. Lily is fucking done.

Severus doesn't want to be done, though. Every chance he gets, he's following her around,
trying to apologize, trying to explain, trying and trying for forgiveness that Lily is tired of
giving him. He wants to exist in the summers they have together the same way in Hogwarts,
but he isn't the same at Hogwarts as he is at home. And, what's worse, Lily knows what it all
is, deep down. She knows.
Sometimes, Lily feels like she's cursed. Forced into running when all she wants to do is relax.
Everywhere she turns, there is someone chasing after her for things she doesn't want to give
them, and they can't see her past what they want from her. It's not fair. The only bloke she
feels like ever sees her, truly sees her without wanting anything from her, is Remus.

"Snape fancies you, you know," Mary informs her.

Lily sighs. "I know."

"It's alright not to feel the same," Mary says softly. "You're not required to, or even to try and
appease anyone for their feelings that aren't your fault. People can't help who they love.
People also can't help who they don't."

"It's—it's just so frustrating, and it hurts," Lily croaks, tears pricking at her eyes. "Why does
it hurt me, too? Aren't I the one meant to come out of it all unscathed?"

Mary reaches out with a small, sad smile and tucks Lily's hair behind her ear, holding her
gaze. "It hurts because you care about people, Lily. You're one of the most compassionate
people I've ever known. You've no interest in hurting anyone, not really, but please remember
it's not your fault. Your existence isn't a problem. You aren't doing anything wrong."

"The worst part is, I want to be loved," Lily chokes out, on the verge of tears now. "I so
desperately want to be loved, Mary, but not as they love me. I want—"

"Respect? Compassion? True understanding of who you are and the things you want?" Mary
fills in when Lily falters, not having the words. She pulls her hand back as Lily nods a bit
miserably. "You deserve those things. We all do, I believe. It's not too much to ask for; it's the
bare fucking minimum, so don't you dare feel guilty for requiring it. Just don't. I mean it."

"Alright," Lily whispers, and it feels like some sort of weight lifts off her chest, as if there's
more room for her to breathe. It's as if she's been absolved of her guilt before she even
properly knew to label it as such.
Mary hums in approval. "Feeling better?"

"Maybe a little," Lily admits in a mumble, huffing out a tiny laugh when Mary smiles in
victory and reaches up to pat herself on the back. "Oh, don't go celebrating yet. I'm still
feeling mopey, and I'm doing it out of spite now."

"There you go, underestimating me again." Mary clicks her tongue and lifts her wand,
pointing it in the air. "Look what Alice showed me how to do. You're going to love this."

Lily glances up, watching light shoot up from Mary's wand and hover in the air before
abruptly cracking apart and scattering out above them. Lily can't help but gasp, instantly
enthralled by the pretty display of magic, because no matter how much time has passed since
discovering she was a witch, the wonder and amazement that magic draws from her will
never fade. It's like sparkling stars dripping down in teardrops that shimmer in the air,
ethereal and lovely.

Lily doesn't tear her gaze away as she says, "Mary, that's beautiful."

"Isn't it?" Mary agrees, and Lily turns her head to see her beaming up above them, pleased
with herself.

"Absolutely gorgeous," Lily breathes out, looking right at her, and it's true. It's still fucking
true.

"I know," Mary says smugly, turning to look at her and raise her eyebrows. "Try being mopey
now. You can't, can you?"

"I'm so mopey, you have no idea," Lily lies, admittedly a little baffled to find her mood lifted
and her anxiety gone like it never existed in the first place.

"No, you're not," Mary argues with a laugh, dumping her wand on the bed so she can reach
out to wriggle her fingers into Lily's stomach, tickling her with a grin.
"I am," Lily protests, laughing helplessly as she clamps down on Mary's wrist and squirms,
pushing her hand down and curling up to shield her stomach. "You can't just decide I'm not
mopey anymore, Mary, that's not how it works!"

Mary clicks her tongue and reaches out with her other hand to dig into her side instead. "Oh,
but I think it is. Look at you. Why are you laughing, hm? Why is that, Lily, if you're mopey?"

"I—I can—I can mope and laugh at the same time," Lily wheezes, breathless, the whole bed
shaking from the force of their mingled laughter. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because you're so terribly funny, don't you know?" Mary teases, chuckling all the while, and
she grins when Lily yelps and snatches her other hand down, crossing them and trapping
them between their bodies.

In all the shifting, they've gotten so close that their faces are right across from each other, and
Lily can smell the lotion Mary uses. Coconut. It's lovely, but it makes her a little lightheaded
—or maybe that's something else, but the laughter between them fades into silence until it's
just the quiet, their caught gazes, and the streaming stars above them.

Lily finds that her lungs have stopped working, because she can't breathe. Ridiculously, she
doesn't even know what's happening until it's already happening, and she has no clue how it
happens at all. Lily doesn't think Mary moves, but she can't recall moving herself, so there's
no warning or logical sequence of events that leads to a kiss.

And yet, they're kissing anyway.

Lily—who has never kissed anyone at all—can't properly make sense of how they ended up
here. Isn't there supposed to be some sign? Isn't there supposed to be an actual desire for it?
Friends don't do this, she's sure, so why are they?

Because—because they are doing it. Kissing. And Lily doesn't know what it means, or what
to think of it, but she's not really doing much thinking at all. She may need to reevaluate her
stance on the desire for it, because if she had none, why is she leaning into it with her eyes
fluttering shut and everything in the world falling away other than this?

There is nothing else, just the soft pressure of Mary's lips, and then the heat of her mouth, a
searing invitation that Lily readily accepts the moment it's offered to her. It's a gradual fall
into each other, their hands breaking between their bodies to find other places to go. Hands
on the curve of a hip, drifting up the side of a neck, pushing into hair, digging into an arm.

And this—this is the coexistence of magic from every world, the center point where it all
connects. It's here, right here, that Lily finds the balance. Everything about this moment is
magic, pure fucking magic in every form, even the complete absence of it, which is magical
in its own way.

Lily doesn't want it to end, honestly, but it does. Inevitably, it does, and they break apart the
same way they came together, all at once and with no idea of who was the culprit. They're
still so close, breathing stuttered, hands holding on. Lily's lips are tingling, and she doesn't
know what to do.

Oh, fuck, Lily thinks, completely stunned. Fucking hell.

What is she supposed to do with this? About this? Mary is one of her best friends. Friends
don't do this; they just—don't. Or maybe they're not supposed to. Lily doesn't really know
anymore. What she does know is that she and Mary are not the type of friends who do this, so
now that they have, where the fuck do they go from here?

Lily's brain races in circles, yet a new thing to panic about. She doesn't know what to say, or
do, and she's just frozen. They're just staring at each other in heavy, thick silence, and Lily
can feel her stomach squirming with mounting dread again. The one person who makes her
feel better without fail, every single time, and she might've gone and mucked it all up. Was it
her? Who was it? Oh, what did they do? What do they do?

Apparently, what they do is laugh, because that's what Mary does. She springs away from
Lily like she's on fire, forcing out a laugh as she sits up on the bed and scoots to the side,
lifting her hand to cover her mouth briefly. Lily follows her up, but only to scramble back a
little bit, wrapping her arms around her knees as she leans against her pillow.
"Goodness, that was mental of us, wasn't it?" Mary chokes out with another laugh, tossing up
her hands as if to say ah, well, what can you do? "Those charmed stars sure are something."

Lily lets out a strangled laugh of her own, reaching around to grip the back of her neck. "I—
yeah, truly."

"Well," Mary says, clearing her throat loudly, and it's painfully awkward already, "you've
clearly stopped moping, so—so I'll just be off. Glad I could—I mean, before, the way I
helped before we—" She presses her lips together, then grimaces and swings herself off the
bed. "Right. I'm going to…"

She doesn't say anything else, just gestures vaguely towards the door, then leaves. Lily opens
her mouth, trying to figure out what she should say, but she still has no clue. In the end, Mary
slips out of the room, and Lily closes her mouth slowly, left alone to her silence and solitude.

Groaning, Lily flops back down on the bed and covers her face with both hands, muffling a
sound of despair into them. Now she has yet another thing to worry about on top of the rest.

Sixteen isn't looking much better than fifteen. Not at all.

Hogwarts circa November, 1976

"Absolute fucking bellend," Lily rants, slamming her way out of the classroom, her face a
vivid shade of red that does clash with her hair, though Mary finds it endearing. "Nothing but
a brute. A troll has more intellectual reliability than him."

"What did I do now?" James whispers, sounding injured as he falls into step with Mary,
eyeing Lily warily.
"It wasn't you," Mary assures him. "Mulciber."

James' lips tip down. "Oi, Evans!"

"What?" Lily snaps, whipping around to glare at him.

"Nothing," James says quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. "I just—I was only going
to say, whatever Mulciber did, don't let him get to you, yeah? He's not worth it."

"No, maybe not," Lily agrees grudgingly, "but you know what would be worth it, James?
Shoving his wand so far up his—"

"Alright," Remus cuts in quickly, reaching out to slide his arm around Lily's shoulders and
turn her around, dipping his head to murmur at her. Meanwhile, Sirius nearly chokes on his
own spit because he's laughing so hard.

Mary tucks her lips in to hide her smile, shaking her head, and James gazes after Lily like
she's a goddess. He's been doing better, Mary will admit, still putting in the effort to actually
be Lily's friend. Mary isn't blind, though. She sees the way James looks at her, still. She
almost pities him, sometimes.

"I still have fucking eurgh in my hair," Lily complains, flinging her hands up, the sound of
disgust doing well to describe the bit of goop in her hair that Mulciber flung at her across the
classroom because she told him to stop talking and subjecting everyone to his stupidity.

"Let's go," Mary says, leaning forward to slide her hand around Lily's arm, tugging her
towards the loo. They both pause and glance at Marlene. "Coming?"

"I'm starving," Marlene replies with a shrug. "I'll save you some shepherd's pie, though."
"Why do girls travel in packs to the loo, anyway?" Sirius muses as Lily and Mary leave.
"What do you even do in there?"

"Blood rituals and demonic seances. Occasionally, we even communicate with the dead,"
Marlene says flatly. "You know, when we're not pissing, of course."

Sirius' loud, startled laughter follows them as they go, and Mary feels her lips curl up
helplessly. Sirius Black. That lovely, lovely fool. She adores him, truly, and there's nothing
like the sound of his bright laughter. Lily rolls her eyes, but even she's smiling a little all the
way into the loo.

The secret is, girls only do blood rituals and demonic seances in the loo on very special
occasions. Mostly, they just fix their hair, talk, and reorganize their bags when they're not
actually using the bathroom. The girl's loo is a sacred location, honestly, completely free of
expectation, one of the few places in the world where girls don't have to even know each
other to coexist in some sort of unspoken truce.

"Fucking vile, worthless cunt," Lily hisses, as glares at herself in the mirror and runs damp
fingers through her hair, cleaning it with a scowl. Sometimes—oh, sometimes Lily has a
filthy mouth as bad as Remus', and it's delightful. "One day, Mulciber is going to push too
far, and someone is going to give him exactly what he deserves, mark my bloody words."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Mary agrees, leaning up against the sink and reaching out to grab Lily's
tie, tugging her around so they're facing each other. She brushes Lily's hands aside and starts
braiding the wet strands, lips twitching. "If it helps, I saw Peter sneak some tree sap we were
using for the potion into Mulciber's hood, so when he tugs it up later, it'll drop down into his
hair."

"Ah, Peter," Lily says with a chuckle. "He's always so reliable, isn't he? He makes his moves
in secret."

"We could all stand to learn a little from him," Mary murmurs, huffing out a laugh when Lily
hums.
"I hope it gets into Mulciber's ears," Lily declares. "I hope it slides down the back of his
neck. I hope it runs down the back of his leg and he slips on it, so maybe he'll crack open his
skull and lose whatever makes him a fucking idiot."

Mary stifles a laugh. "Anything else?"

"And he's a cunt," Lily adds, yet again, but her lips are tugging up at the corners as well now.

"Oh, naughty," Mary teases, smoothing her hand down Lily's hair, twisting her thick braid
mindlessly, holding her gaze. She has the most entrancing green eyes Mary has ever seen,
which doesn't really feel fair, honestly. There's already so much about Lily that's lovely, like
her mouth. Sometimes, it's thrilling to point out how intimately familiar with it she is. "You
know, you speak such filth from a mouth I know for a fact is so soft."

Mary doesn't know why she keeps doing this. It feels compulsive, at this point. She continues
to bring it up, to hint at something better left forgotten, teasing them both with a reminder of
a kiss they never should have had. It makes her feel a bit mental that she can't leave it alone,
that she keeps circling back to it, because she knows it's ridiculous. She's very aware. And
what if it makes Lily uncomfortable?

Mary can't tell if it makes Lily uncomfortable. There was some discomfort between them
following the kiss, but that had been set aside the moment they returned for their sixth year.
They'd run to each other on the platform before boarding the train just like normal, launching
themselves at each other and screeching happily in one another's ears, and it was as if the kiss
never even happened at all.

Except Mary doesn't like that. She doesn't want it to just—go away. She likes acknowledging
it, repeatedly bringing it up, treating it like a secret between them that no one else will ever
know about. There's something thrilling about it, making a comment and meeting Lily's eyes
as something unnameable passes between them, something that makes Mary think they're
both remembering the kiss at the same time. Mary doesn't want to forget it. She doesn't want
Lily to forget it.

It's a dangerous game to play, though. As much as Mary loves her games, she really should
be more careful. Making the comment that she just has when they're here, alone, standing
close together with no one or nothing to interrupt them, oh, that's really rather foolish of her.
Why remember a kiss when you can just have another?

Lily doesn't say anything. She isn't saying anything at all, and Mary doesn't know what that
means. When she usually knows everything about everyone, Lily confounds her. She's a wisp
slipping between Mary's fingers, untouchable, hot sand spilling over her palm. Mary wants to
understand, but she can't; she tries, but it's so very hard to do when Lily is close.

There's a moment where Mary feels like she's floating outside of her own body, watching
herself gently slide her hand down the length of Lily's braid, grazing her fingers down her
side. She wonders, wonders, wonders what she's doing, and why she's doing it, and if it's
okay for her to do at all. Lily is her best friend. What does it mean? How can she know her
better than anyone, and not know this?

Mary doesn't mean to, really, but she sways forward. She remembers it, always remembers it,
their kiss. Would it be the same? Worse? Better? It's the unfathomable, and Mary has never
encountered something she couldn't figure out before this. She's inexplicably drawn in by it.

Lily exhales sharply, a stilted noise that pierces the quiet and sends Mary back to greater
sense with the force of a slap. It leaves her feeling oddly chastised, because what the fuck is
she doing? It's Lily. This isn't something to do with Lily. Any other person in the world, who
doesn't mean to her what Lily does, would be fine. But Lily? No. Absolutely not.

"Ah, there now, all fixed," Mary mumbles, lifting her hand to shift Lily's braid over her
shoulder and flash a smile that she knows is a little tight on her face, but Mary is nothing if
not a performer. She'll put on a performance so grand the world will fall to its knees begging
for an encore.

With that, Mary shimmies to the side and slips away, telling herself not to worry about it.
Nothing happened. They're still them, and they'll be fine.

It takes Mary two days to come to the conclusion that this is something to worry about,
something has happened, and for all that they're still them, there's a new, unidentified shift
between them that leaves her unsure if they're fine at all. Just earlier, she reached out to
steady Lily by her hips when she was bouncing around the dorm, and Lily had jumped about
a foot in the air and failed to meet her gaze for hours after. It's fucked. Mary mucked it all up.
She can't even touch her best friend now without it all going to shit.

So, maybe Mary has been keeping her distance a bit. In times of desperate need for
distraction, she goes to the one person she can always count on in that regard. Sirius Black.

Now, for a group of four boys who are all wildly different and also startlingly similar in
various ways, the only one that Mary, Marlene, and Lily can agree on wholeheartedly is
Peter. When in doubt, he is the favorite. They all adore Peter, no debate.

For Lily, on the other hand, the one she'd go to war for is undoubtedly Remus. She gets on
with Sirius well enough, especially when James isn't around him, but they had a bit of a
mutual dislike for each other in the earlier years. On Sirius' side, this sprouted from the fact
that he's a jealous little shit, and he'd had a hard time separating romance from friendship, so
Lily read as a threat to his bond with James in his mind. He has since grown and gotten over
such things, but that did set them back a bit. On Lily's side, she thought Sirius was a loud,
broody fool who didn't much care about anything except being a fucking menace. She has
since learned that there is so much more to him, but they're taking it slow as far as bonding is
concerned. And then James is just...something else entirely. Lily's only just now coming
round to tolerating him, slowly letting him show her that he's not truly an arrogant arse the
way she thinks he is. It's sort of fascinating to watch.

For Marlene, the one she would go to war for is, ironically enough, James. She gets on well
with Remus enough, but they got into an argument back in third year about Quidditch (he
doesn't like Quidditch, and she loves it), so they didn't speak for a while after that. They're
fine now, of course, and they joke about it to this day, but it's James that Marlene genuinely
connects with. As for Sirius, well, Mary isn't entirely sure what it is that caused problems
between him and Marlene. She knows that Marlene was jealous of him in fourth year, even if
she can't quite work out why. Sirius gets moody when he meets someone he can't charm, so
that already puts them on uneven ground, because no one can charm Marlene. Mary's never
met a girl more unimpressed by boys in her life.

For Mary herself, the one she would go to war for is Sirius. She loves Remus, she does, but
he is private and she is nosy, which means he kept his distance from her for a bit, and she
didn't push it because Lily would actually kill her. As for James… Well, Mary also loves
James, she really does, but sometimes he agitates her, particularly about Lily. Sometimes, she
wants to tell him to just shut the fuck up and stay away from her. But, excluding that, she
rather likes him.
Truly, though, it's Sirius that she gets. It's a bit odd, because they couldn't have more different
backgrounds if they tried. He's a rich pureblood boy with a shit family and heaps of issues to
carry around with him every day; she's a muggle-born girl with a lovely family and no
reasons behind the issues she repeatedly brushes off when they try to cling to her. And yet,
Mary feels that they share an understanding, a similar something in them that recognizes one
another.

It's the determination, she thinks. They both have a boldness to defy expectations and live
loud and to the fullest. When they're hurt, or upset, or confused, they become performers.
They want attention, and they want it when they want it, and they'll do what it takes to get it,
willing to accept what they can get if that's all they can settle for.

But, for all that they connect, they do things differently. Mary lives on the outside of herself
sometimes, watching her life play out on a stage in front of her, not entirely sure what
happens when the curtain falls. Meanwhile, Sirius lives inside himself, deep inside, trapped
behind the curtain and desperate to peek out and see what's happening. They're both two
people seeking some semblance of control over themselves and their own lives, pretending
they already have it when they don't.

Together, there is no show. When they're alone, the lights go down, and they're no one at all.
Listless, without control, lost together and exhaling in the relief of such a thing. They'd never
make it anywhere together, Mary knows that, but Sirius is undoubtedly her favorite person to
exist nowhere with.

They both favor mutual self-destruction, above all else, because they're young and wild and
free, and neither of them have a clue what the fuck they're doing. But at least they're not
alone at such a scary place in their lives.

"Do you think forgiveness is real?" Sirius asks her, his head tilted back as he blows rings of
smoke into the sky. They're sitting outside in a deserted courtyard, late at night, sharing a
smoke between them that Mary brought from home. Her father smokes, so she nicks packs
from him while he pretends not to notice and never, never tells her mother.

"I think so," Mary says slowly, ankles crossed in front of her, staring out at dark shapes of
benches and the fountain. It's cold out. They're sharing a knitted blanket that Marlene gifted
her last year for Christmas. "I think forgiveness is the only thing in this world that people
can't ignore. You know when you haven't forgiven someone, even when you'd rather not."

"What about the person being forgiven?" Sirius murmurs, passing her the smoke. "How do
they know they've been?"

"They don't." Mary inhales, smoke filling her lungs, and then she breathes out slowly. "They
never know. I think that's fair, don't you? If they've done something they have to be forgiven
for, they should have to live with not knowing."

Sirius heaves a sigh. "No, I don't think that's fair. Wouldn't it drive them insane?"

"Shouldn't it?" Mary replies.

"You're just vindictive," Sirius grumbles.

Mary snorts, then inhales again. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just honest. Guilt is good when
there's reason for it. Guilt reminds you not to be such a shit person."

"Haven't you ever made a mistake before, Macdonald?"

"Can't say that I have, Black."

Lie, Mary thinks, because she'll call herself out in her own head just like everyone else. She
shakes her head and passes the smoke over, lips pressed into a thin line. Guilt—she knows
that well. She's been dealing with it a lot over the past two days, and maybe she's a little
bitter, a little angry at herself.

"I'm guilty," Sirius murmurs.

"Is there a reason for it?" Mary asks quietly, listening to him inhale deep, the cherry crackling
as it burns down.

Sirius releases a hoarse laugh, no humor in it. "Yeah."

"Hm." Mary is silent for a long beat. She doesn't have to ask. She knows—they all know—
that there are issues between Remus and Sirius. It has carried over from the previous year,
after that awful time where it seemed like the friendship between all four of them was on the
verge of collapse, most notably with Sirius. Predictably, James and Sirius have since bounced
back, as have Sirius and Peter, but the difference between Sirius and Remus before is stark to
how they are now. Sometimes, Remus can't even look at Sirius, and Mary never thought
heartbreak was something that could be seen until she saw the look on Sirius' face every time
Remus wanted nothing to do with him.

"Yeah," Sirius repeats softly, subdued.

Mary clicks her tongue and reaches over to pluck the smoke from his hand. "Well, I forgive
you."

"You can't forgive me," Sirius says. "It isn't you that I've hurt."

"No, but I can forgive you for being someone who has hurt someone else," Mary tells him
simply. "You have my forgiveness, and you don't need to wonder about that. You're human,
you know. You're not a horrible person just because you've made mistakes. Not everyone can
be me."

Sirius huffs a laugh and rolls his head over to flash a weak grin at her, but the smile fades
quickly. "No, I suppose not. Only one Mary Macdonald. Thankfully."

"Wanker," Mary mutters, swatting his thigh under the blanket, but he grabs her hand and
holds onto it, his face sagging with sadness. The depths of his inner tragedies are boundless.
"Thank you," Sirius rasps, his eyes a little bright in the dark, like he might start crying.

"Mhm," Mary hums lazily, leaning over with the smoke between two fingers, holding it to his
lips so he can inhale. He does, and when he exhales, he speaks.

"You wouldn't forgive me, if you knew," he whispers.

Mary smiles. "Sweetheart, I don't need to know to believe you deserve it, and am I ever
wrong?"

"No," Sirius mumbles, "but I think you are about this."

"That's the beauty of it," Mary tells him, taking another pull, the very last, before flicking the
smoke away. She exhales and leans her head back against the wall, gazing at Sirius with
fondness. "Guilt and forgiveness, it's an exchange. It fluctuates. We give and take both.
There's no wrong way to do it when the remorse is real, and everyone deserves the chance to
be better than they were the day before."

"Not a lot of people see it that way."

"Mm, well, not a lot of people take responsibility for their mistakes or acknowledge that
they're capable of making them. Who wants to? This one life we're living now, it's so fucking
impermanent, isn't it? We all want to get it right from beginning to end, but we can't. It's
awful."

"So fucking awful," Sirius agrees with a sigh.

"Of course," Mary adds, "I'm above all that."

Sirius snorts. "Oh, don't even try it, Mary. You can fool everyone else, but I see you."
"You do, don't you?" Mary asks, scanning his features.

"Sometimes, it's like looking into a very strange, distorted mirror," Sirius says, then purses
his lips. "Actually, that's a bit of an insult. You're better than I am, but I'm prettier."

"You wish you were prettier," Mary retorts, rolling her eyes.

"You don't think I'm pretty?" Sirius teases, batting his eyelashes playfully and leaning in
close to give her his signature grin, the one that melts most girls' hearts. She would like to
think she's above it, but she's not, really. Sirius is truly a gorgeous boy. She wonders if he
actually knows that, or if that's all a performance he puts on, like her.

Mary tells him, just in case. "I do, actually. You're a git, but a very beautiful git."

"Beautiful?" Sirius says with a mock-gasp, pretending to swoon, but she sees the startled
flash in his eyes for what it is. She knows. He grins at her, like that can distract her from how
surprised he was to hear it. Even if he knows, he deserves to be told from time-to-time. She
yearns for the same thing, and isn't that ridiculous? Validation is a drug. "Why, Macdonald, I
didn't know you felt that way. Tell me more."

"Oh, piss off," Mary mutters, snorting.

Sirius raises his eyebrows at her, but under the blanket, he squeezes her hand. "You are, too,
you know. I'm sure that you do know, but it can't hurt to hear it. We're always the ones
announcing it, and no one can deny it, our charms and pure magnetism, obviously, but that's
besides the point. I'll tell you, if you like. You're beautiful, Mary."

"Oh, Christ, you're sweeping me off my feet and stealing my heart, Black. Have mercy,"
Mary declares, pretending to be breathless as she fans her face and breaks out into a grin.
And yet, her heart does clench, because it's so, so nice to hear it.
"Well, I like to make a lady feel nice," Sirius says, winking at her. "Not even you can resist
me."

"Who says I'm trying?" Mary retorts.

"Oh?" Sirius, who is always ready to match her boldness with his own, arches an eyebrow at
her. There's an undeniable glint of curiosity in his eyes.

Mary can feel his thumb tracing circles on the outside of her hand under the blanket, a soft,
sincere contact between them to undercut all the fun they're having. It sends a twist of
confusing emotions through her chest, but none of them are bad. She quite likes them.
"Maybe you can't resist me."

"Who says I'm trying?" Sirius shoots back.

"Mm, this could be a very bad idea, you and me," Mary tells him, cocking her head.

Sirius flicks his gaze down her body, then right back up. "Could be fun, though. I love a bad
idea. Don't you?"

"They do entice me," Mary admits, grinning, and Sirius grins back because of course he
would agree. They're young, wild, and free—lost and existing nowhere, but maybe that's
alright for now. "If this turns out to be a mistake, we'll forgive each other for it, won't we?"

"Mm, I have no doubts," Sirius says.

"Then fuck it," Mary decides, pulling her hand free from his and lifting the blanket so she can
shift and haul herself directly into his lap.

"Oh, fuck, you were serious," Sirius blurts out, his hands falling to land on her hips as he
gapes up at her.
Mary snorts. "No, that'd be you, actually."

"I—" Sirius blinks, then laughs. It seems to bubble up in him, making his shoulders shake,
and his head dips forward as he proceeds to bury his face right into her chest, still wheezing.
When he speaks, his words are muffled. "Oh, fucking hell."

"I'd prefer it if you'd speak to me, not my tits," Mary says dryly, and Sirius' head snaps up.

"I wasn't—oh, fuck off," Sirius grumbles, seeing that she's laughing at him.

"Would you like me to move?" Mary challenges.

Sirius hums and flexes his fingers on her hips. "No, I rather like where you are, actually. The
weight of you, I mean. Not saying you're heavy, but it feels nice. You wouldn't happen to
want to just lie all over me, would you?"

"That's not really what I had in mind," Mary admits, "but I'm not opposed to it in the future."

"What did you have in mind?" Sirius asks, eyebrows shooting up, and Mary wonders if he's
ever had a girl in his lap before, because he wouldn't be asking if he has.

"Take a guess," Mary murmurs, sliding her hands down his chest as she leans in until their
noses almost brush.

"Well, a gentleman never assumes, Mary," Sirius mumbles.

Mary chuckles. "When have you ever been a gentleman?"

"Never," Sirius admits, then closes the space between them to kiss her, and Mary closes her
eyes to better feel all of it.

The thing is, Mary likes it, and that startles her. Some part of her was afraid that she wouldn't,
but she does. Sirius' mouth is plush and warm against her own, and he's as bold as she is. For
all the things he refuses to be serious about, it becomes apparent that snogging is not a joking
matter to him.

He's good at it, and so is Mary, which works well for both of them. It is not like kissing Lily,
not even close, but Mary forces that thought down with vigor, because this is good, and she
wasn't prepared for it to be. It's a relief that it is.

She's glad it's him. Lost, listless, and out of control, they exist nowhere together, and for now,
that's what she needs.

And there, in the quiet of the courtyard, with the taste of smoke on their lips, they stumble
into a mistake they'll forgive themselves for, one that's worth making.

Hogwarts circa December, 1976

Remus' leg is bouncing restlessly under the table.

It's taking everything in Lily not to point it out. She knows it's getting close to the full moon,
so that's surely contributing to how agitated he is, which she would never draw attention to,
as she pretends she doesn't know he's a werewolf purely for his peace of mind. However, he's
been downright volatile lately, and Lily is admittedly a little concerned.

"Remus," Lily says gently.

"Yes?" Remus snaps, dangerously close to ripping through his parchment again from how
hard he's digging the tip of his quill into it as he writes. They're working on a charms
assignment together in the common room, and Lily doesn't want to say it, but he's just
shredding parchment at this point.

"Are you alright?" Lily ventures cautiously.

Remus' nostrils flare. "I'm fine."

Lily starts to protest, to push a little, because sometimes he needs someone to do that, but
Mary's laughter catches her attention. Her gaze trails over, despite knowing she's not going to
like what she'll see. And, sure enough, she doesn't. Sirius and Mary are on the settee, curled
up together, laughing and talking without a care in the world. Lily wants so fiercely to be
happy for them, and she's trying to be, but absolutely no part of her will get on board with it.

It makes her feel awful, because Mary is her best friend. She should be happy that Mary is
happy. She keeps telling herself over and over that she is happy for them, like if she thinks it
enough, she'll believe it. Like if she keeps at it, then it'll be true. Like if she tries harder, she'll
manage it.

Honestly? It's not working.

Lily feels like she's about to be sick.

"Fucking cockwobbling bastard," Remus hisses, throwing his quill down with force and a
sound of disgust. There's a large tear right down the center of the parchment that he's glaring
at, like it's at fault and not him. Lily isn't about to correct him.

"It's alright," Lily murmurs, "we can just—"

"No, it's not alright," Remus cuts in sharply. "It's not alright. Nothing is fucking alright,
Lily."
I know what you mean, Lily thinks. "Do you want to go to the library, maybe? It's—quieter
there."

"No, I don't. I—" Remus clenches his jaw. "I'm sorry, but I'm not really feeling well. I think
I'll go lie down."

"Yeah, alright," Lily agrees, watching him launch to his feet and stomp up the stairs.

"Remus?" Peter calls after him, where he's playing a rather intense game of exploding snap
with James not very far from where Sirius and Mary are. Yelling after him of course makes
James and Sirius swivel their heads, taking an immediate interest like nothing else is more
important, and then the three of them all share long looks as Remus blatantly ignores them
and disappears up the stairs.

Sirius starts to unfurl from the settee. "Maybe I should—"

"I've got it," James says firmly, shooting Sirius a startlingly sharp look before he's following
after Remus.

"Right," Sirius murmurs, visibly deflating, and he manages a slightly wobbly smile when
Peter gives him a gentle look. But it's Mary who comforts him, really. She cups his cheek and
turns his head, speaking quietly to him until he nods, then she kisses him tenderly before
tugging him to his feet and leading him out of the common room altogether.

Lily stares down at her notes, feeling nauseous, and she doesn't really have the energy to do
this either. She swallows harshly and slowly packs away her things before slipping off to her
dorm. Marlene is already there, sprawled lazily on her bed, knitting as she bobs her head to
the music coming from the radio on her stand. The Hobgoblins are playing.

The nauseous feeling won't leave her, and Lily doesn't know how to make it go away. She
moves over and sits down on Marlene's bed, waiting for Marlene to gather the yarn and make
room before flopping backwards with a deep sigh. Her stomach rocks with the motion, which
only upsets the nauseous feeling more, so she presses her hands into the soft give of fat and
turns to curl up on her side, like she's trying to protect her internal organs, the vulnerable
underbelly of aching that exists in the pit of her stomach.

She can see it so clearly in her head, what Mary looks like when snogging Sirius. It makes
her want to fold into a tight ball just picturing it, but she can't stop. A part of her that is so
loud within wants to scream, wants to rail against some inner cage, wants to remind herself,
and Mary, and the entire fucking world that she did it first. Lily kissed Mary first. Before
Sirius, it was her. She doesn't know what it meant, but that doesn't erase it. That was her,
once. Just once, and then never again, and it's Sirius now.

Oh, Lily hates him. She really, really does. And that's a bit sad, honestly, because she doesn't
want to, because she's actually grown to like him as a person quite a bit. It's not hating him,
not for who is, but just hating what he's doing.

Hating him for doing what she's not.

Quietly, like a mantra, Lily reminds herself that she's happy for them. She is. They're happy,
and that's just lovely, isn't it? She should be happy for them, and so she is, and so she will be.
Somehow, she'll find it in her to manage it.

"Lily?" Marlene murmurs.

"Yeah?" Lily replies miserably, not happy at all.

Marlene stops knitting to peer at her. "Feeling alright?"

"Not really," Lily confesses.

"Cramps?" Marlene asks sympathetically, taking in the way Lily is curled up, pushing into
her stomach with her hands.
"Of a sort," Lily mumbles.

"Hm, I thought we'd all synced up again."

"We have, I think. It's not that. Just—not feeling well."

"Right." Marlene purses her lips, eyes narrowing. "Do you want to talk about it, or would you
like me to piss off?"

Lily quirks a helpless smile. This is one of her favorite things about Marlene. She never
demands an explanation and always offers the option to simply leave her be, knowing that
sometimes that's what she needs. "I don't really want to talk about it, no, but I don't want you
to piss off either. Can I just be here and watch you knit?"

"Yeah, sure," Marlene says simply, and Lily is so very grateful to have her as a best friend.
"It'll be a jumper. I'm scared I'll run out of the red yarn, but I have some black left. The
bottom half will just have to be that. I'm not a lunatic for assuming that Peter will wear it, am
I? I'm making it for him."

"No, not at all," Lily assures her. "You know he'll love that. I'll warn you, though. Remus will
probably end up with it."

"Oh, they'll all share it between them, I imagine. I'm under no illusions about that," Marlene
admits with a snort. "It's just that I accidentally set Pete's on fire while messing about with
the fireplace last week, so I figured I ought to replace it."

"Did you?"

"Mhm. He didn't mind, found it funny once we put him out, but I still feel bad. It was a nice
jumper."
"Well, you're making progress," Lily points out, nodding to the lump of knitted yarn
that's...vaguely jumper-esque. It's not obvious yet, but Lily knows better than to doubt
Marlene's knitting skills. She's brilliant.

Marlene grins. "Cheers."

"It'll be lovely," Lily murmurs, closing her eyes. Some of the nausea is passing, soothed by
the simplicity in just being with Marlene. She unfurls a little bit, releasing a deep breath.

"Hope so," Marlene agrees. "Where's Mary?"

"Off with Sirius, I dunno, probably shagging," Lily mumbles, her eyebrows collapsing
together, and she can hear the petulance in her own voice. Annnnd she's nauseous again.

"Ah," Marlene says, and that's all she says for a bit. When Lily opens her eyes, Marlene is
idly knitting again, doing it without even looking. She's watching Lily instead.

"What?"

"Nothing, really. You just don't seem to approve."

Lily clears her throat. "No, I'm happy for them. I am, however, surprised that you don't
disapprove. Finally come round to Sirius, have you?"

"Sirius is Sirius," Marlene muses, rolling her eyes. "Believe it or not, we actually get on quite
well these days. And I'm not much worried about him and Mary, honestly."

"You're not?" Lily asks, then thinks that must be nice, what's that like?
Marlene shrugs lazily. "No. They won't last, and I don't mean that in a malicious way. They're
just not—it. For each other, I mean. They're having a good time, having a bit of fun, and I
don't doubt they care about each other very much, but it's not love. Not the love that makes
for a couple. Can't you tell?"

"I haven't been paying attention," Lily lies reflexively, then realizes how strange it is for her
to say something like that about someone who's her best friend, especially to their other best
friend. "Just been busy, is all. How can you tell?"

"I pay attention," is all Marlene says, lips twitching.

Lily sighs. "I don't think it would matter if I did. I'd hardly be able to make sense of what I
saw. I'm not sure if I actually know what love looks like."

"If it helps," Marlene mumbles, "I don't think I do either."

"Do you think we'll see it one day?" Lily murmurs.

Marlene hums, focusing on her knitting, a tiny smile curling her lips. "Maybe. Suppose we'll
find out, won't we?"

Lily closes her eyes again. "If we're lucky, maybe so."

Hogwarts circa January, 1977

Robert Crunshaw can get stuffed, that's what he can do. Oh, Mary knows all about blokes like
him, with their smiles like they'll impress your parents and their perfectly coiffed hair and
their ridiculous scarf collection. She knows what Robert is up to, what he's all about, and she
does not like him.

This is a bit of a problem, seeing as he and Lily are currently dating (she seems utterly
oblivious to his many faults), so Mary isn't really sure the best way to approach this
situation.

"I really don't see what the problem with him is," Sirius admits, his arm around her shoulders.
He glances around quickly and lowers his voice. "Don't tell James I said that. He hates
Robert, too."

"He does?" Mary asks hopefully, brightening. Finally. Someone who gets it.

Sirius hums, craning his head forward as they pass the empty, abandoned room they've made
use of more than a few times before. He waggles his eyebrows at her, but doesn't ask, or
suggest anything, or push. He can clearly tell that Mary isn't quite finished ranting about Lily
and Robert. "Yeah, he does, but I suspect it's for different reasons as you. He's jealous,
absolutely seething with it, honestly, and trying his best not to be. He can bang on about
Robert for hours, just like you."

"Right," Mary mutters, pursing her lips.

The thing is, Mary is self-aware enough to know that she's more similar to James in this
regard than she'll ever admit to out loud. She's really rather jealous as well.

The source of said jealousy is hard to make sense of, really. Mary and Lily have hardly
carried on one conversation with actual substance since she started dating Sirius. Nothing
outside of casual small talk in the dorm and between classes, but Lily usually sticks close to
Remus and Marlene while Mary sticks close to Sirius and James. Peter is the only one who
goes back and forth with the ease of someone who is comfortable with everyone, and Mary
misses knowing what that felt like.

So, she can't be sure that her jealousy isn't just that Robert is stealing more of Lily's time and
attention, helping put further distance between them. How he came into the picture, Mary
doesn't really know. Remus had given the story, though. He had apparently walked right up to
Lily in the library, said he fancied her, and asked if she'd be willing to date him. Just like that.
Full transparency. Nothing grand, no schemes, no expectations, just honesty and a request.

And now, Lily is going off with him all the time. He shows up outside the common room, and
she skips off, smiling as she goes. They meet in the middle of corridors, where they'll hold
hands, or walk together, or snog. They study together in the library, and Lily has confessed to
Marlene that she's gone with him to the Head Boy dorm, even if they haven't shagged yet.

Yet. That yet has been echoing in Mary's ears since she heard it. Nothing gives her a bitter
taste in her mouth like that yet. Fuck that yet. She wants to burn it from the English language.

"Mary?" Sirius says, and Mary realizes they've slowed to a stop, and she's just standing there,
scowling.

"Sorry, did you say something?" Mary mutters.

"You're really upset," Sirius notes slowly, like he's trying to shape out her emotional state in
his hands to better know how to handle it. "Is it about Robert, really? Or is it because Avery
called you a slag earlier?"

Mary rolls her eyes, hard. "Sirius, sweetheart, I get called a slag every day of my life."

"What?" Sirius blinks, then frowns. "Why do you get called a slag? Who the fuck is calling
you a slag, Mary?"

"I get called a slag because I'm a girl who doesn't often care to be modest," Mary says
bluntly. "And who doesn't call me a slag? That'd be easier. My friends, really, or the people
who like me just the way I am."

Sirius' eyebrows furrow. "I didn't know that."

"Well, no one's going to say it around you, are they?" Mary asks with a laugh. "You're my
boyfriend. Look what you did to Avery for what he said."

"He shouldn't have said that," Sirius insists, eyes narrowing, and Mary is so helplessly fond.
"No one bloody knows a thing about our shagging habits, and it's not funny insinuating that
I'm passing you between my mates like you're some—some—"

"Whore?" Mary fills in, tilting her head.

"Yeah," Sirius says stiffly, lips pressing into a thin line.

Mary chuckles, warmed by his defensiveness. "Oh, pipe down, would you? I learned a long
time ago not to listen to things like that; there's not much to be done about it, because people
will believe what they like, but the people who matter to me, they know who I am, truly.
Everyone else can bugger off."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Sirius tells her, holding her gaze. "They're just jealous,
Mary, that's all it is."

"Right," Mary agrees, her lips curling up. She wonders if that's what Sirius tells himself when
he's dealing with things like this. It isn't just Mary who gets the reputation of being a slag,
and isn't it ironic? Sirius is the first boy she has kissed, the first person she has shagged; in
turn, Sirius has snogged his fair share of girls, but she's the first person he's ever shagged. No
one but their closest friends would believe them if they said it. "Well, you know, I'm not even
that angry. Do you know how many girls would kill to shag you and your mates?"

Sirius immediately breaks out into a grin. "Oh, yeah, we're absolutely desired by all. I'm very
aware of our appeal."

"Are you?" Mary teases, stifling a laugh as Sirius slips his arm around her waist and starts
tugging her towards that lovely, convenient abandoned classroom.
"Unfortunately, Peter is dating Cecelia, so he is unavailable to you," Sirius tells her,
wrinkling his nose.

Mary chuckles. "Do you miss your best friend, Sirius?"

"Shut up," Sirius mumbles, clearing his throat. Mary laughs as he whisks her into the room
and shuts the door. She knows how moody he's been because Peter is always with his
girlfriend these days, discovering the wonders of shagging and such. Unlike Sirius, who
drags his girlfriend around his friends, Peter can't quite do that, because Cecelia doesn't much
like his friends. Mary knows that's a disaster waiting to happen; there's no way they'll last.
"Anyway, James is too focused on Lily to ever even glance at someone else, so I think you
could genuinely strip down naked in front of him, and he would just try to help you find your
clothes."

"Christ, that's actually what would happen, I just know it," Mary chokes out, struggling not to
laugh again as Sirius backs her up against the door.

"So, you see," Sirius murmurs, dipping his head to grin at her, eyes sparkling, "it's me you're
meant for out of my mates."

"What about Remus?" Mary teases, tipping her head back, and she's joking, really, so it
startles her a bit when Sirius abruptly goes stiff against her.

Sirius lifts his head and says, with iron-clad finality, "No."

"No?" Mary's eyebrows shoot up, and she breaks out into a grin of pure delight. "Jealous, are
we?"

"Remus isn't—he doesn't do that," Sirius states firmly, jaw clenching so hard that the muscle
in his cheek twitches. "He's untouchable. No one can touch him. No one's allowed."
Mary is silent for a long moment, staring at him as she comes to grips with the fact that Sirius
is, in fact, jealous—just not quite in the way she was expecting him to be. He's not jealous at
the thought of his best mate with his girlfriend, but rather his girlfriend with his best mate,
and there is a subtle difference there that most would miss. Mary doesn't.

Well, then, Mary thinks, wondering how to proceed. The thing about knowing things is that
there's a certain kind of power it grants you, a power that you have to be careful with,
because you can ruin a lot of lives and a lot of people with that power. Sometimes, the best
thing to do with that power is nothing.

But, every once in a while, you can have a little fun with that power, and Mary does like her
games.

"Well, that's a shame. Remus is fit," Mary says casually, reaching out to push her hands up
Sirius' stomach, heading for his shoulders, walking him steadily backwards. "I think he'd be a
satisfying lover, if I'm honest."

"Sure," Sirius grits out, then exhales a surprised puff of air as he bumps into the desk she
pushes him towards. He manages to keep himself upright, but she's right there in seconds,
leaning close as he blinks at her. "Mary?"

"I've hugged him, you know," Mary says slowly. "He's quite firm under those jumpers of his,
not as thin as his height would leave you to believe, and his arms—well, he's unexpectedly
strong." Sirius swallows harshly, his throat bobbing visibly. It takes a lot of effort for her not
to smile. "I imagine getting him out of his jumper would be a treat. Sliding it up until he gets
tired of it and yanks it over his head, because surely he would. All the urgency, you know.
He's so meticulous about things, mild and unassuming too, but I bet he'd be intense when
shagging."

"Mmph," is the muffled sound that falls out of Sirius' mouth, a little high-pitched, and he just
stares at her with wide eyes.

"His hair would be fluffy when the jumper came off, of course," Mary murmurs. "He'd have
to run his fingers through it, or it would stay sticking up, but he probably wouldn't. I bet he
wouldn't mind having fingers in his hair, though."
Sirius' fingers twitch. Mary pulls back slightly, examining him curiously. He's gripping the
side of the desk by his leg so hard that his knuckles are white, and his pupils are visibly
expanding before her very eyes. She doesn't think she's ever seen him lose his composure
quite like this before. Of all the shagging they've done, this is what's really getting to him.

"That's another thing about Remus," Mary says, holding his gaze. "His hands. They're big,
they're broad, and I know for a fact that they're warm. I don't doubt that they'd feel good
against skin, but I wonder if he'd be gentle, or if he'd be rough." Sirius squirms, literally
squirms, his eyes falling shut. There's a lovely flush on his face, and his mouth has gone
slack, and Mary—well, she knows what this is. She feels rather powerful, here and now. "I
think maybe it'd be a little bit of both, or maybe the perfect balance, but it'd feel good either
way. His hands would feel good, no doubt about it. He has strong hands, and the way he'd
hold on—surely it would feel like the ghost of his grip would linger for days."

Sirius' breath punches out of him, loud in the quiet she's invited between them with soft
melody of her voice, and Mary wonders what the inside of his mind looks like right now. It
must be a mess. For his sanity, she bets it's completely empty, and he's just sucked into
sensation.

"And then, of course, there's his mouth," Mary whispers, like it's a secret. "He has a lovely
mouth, there's no denying it. I bet it'd be lovely against skin, too."

"Oh gods," Sirius chokes out, springing up and away from the desk as he heaves a deep
breath. He swings around a little wildly, staring at her. "Alright, that's—that's enough of
talking about Remus, yeah?"

Mary goes back and forth on pointing out that, in this case, he was obviously enjoying
hearing about Remus. The thing about power is, you have to know when to use it, and she
knows him well enough to know not to use this. She has faith in him. One day, he'll get where
he's meant to go, and she's just glad she could give him a nudge in the right direction.

Besides, she quite likes dating him for now. She's aware it won't be forever, but she
appreciates what they have at the moment. It's the best mistake she's ever made, and she
doesn't want to quit making it just yet.
"Sure, sweetheart," Mary says gently, "of course."

Sirius swallows harshly, reaching around to grip the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders as
he exhales a deep, shaky breath. He clears his throat violently, then drops his hand and moves
right for her, pulling her into a deep kiss. She lets him, going willingly, knowing already what
this is about.

He'll figure it out eventually, she's sure.

Hogwarts circa February, 1977

"So, I'll see you later tonight?" Robert murmurs, reaching out to tuck Lily's hair behind her
ear, smiling warmly at her.

"After I finish my prefect rounds," Lily assures him, fiddling with the little origami swan he's
just given her, because he's so terribly kind. He's really sort of just...perfect, actually.

Robert is such a perfect boy that Lily is a bit suspicious. He's nice, and he always listens
when she talks, and he asks her questions because he's actually interested in what she has to
say. He never riles her up, and he's happy to study with her, and he never pressures her to go
any further past snogging if she doesn't want to, even when they're alone. He likes to read,
and he's mature, and he has interesting opinions about books, as well as obtainable dreams
for when he graduates and brilliant plans to achieve them.

The only downside to him is that he's not very funny, really. That's about it. He doesn't make
Lily laugh, but maybe she doesn't need to laugh. She's surrounded by people in her life who
make her laugh; her partner doesn't have to add to that to be a good partner, right? Otherwise,
he's fantastic, and Lily fancies him quite a bit, actually.

"Lovely. Until then, Ms. Evans," Robert says with a playful wink, then dips in to kiss her,
pausing long enough to let her face tilt up to meet him.
Lily had worried when she agreed to date him that it would all be a farce, but it hasn't been.
She genuinely likes him, and she enjoys being with him, which is honestly a relief. Even
kissing him is nice. It's not—well, she's hyper-aware that it's not magic, but she thinks that's
not Robert's fault. He can't help that he's not Mary Macdonald.

Robert is smiling when they break apart, and Lily smiles back, warmed by his kindness and
how nice it is to be with him. He kisses her cheek, murmurs a sweet goodbye, and then he's
gone. Lily stares after him, still smiling, and then she has the horrible, horrible thought that
Petunia would praise her for ending up with someone so normal. It wipes the smile right off
her face immediately. Sometimes, she hates her brain.

There is nothing wrong with normal, Lily thinks furiously at herself, shaking her head as she
turns to move over to where her friends are dutifully waiting for her. He's not boring; he's
just simplistic, which is fine. It's perfectly fine. Besides, she wouldn't actually consider him
normal, because he's a wizard.

"What's this?" Remus asks when she stops next to him. He reaches out to gently bump the
paper swan with his finger.

Lily smiles, because it's really sweet, actually. "Robert likes doing origami. He made me
this."

"Oh, how romantic," Mary drawls, examining her nails with a bland look on her face. "He
folds parchment for you."

"Mary," Marlene reprimands, staring her down when she lifts her gaze, and eventually, Mary
scoffs and rolls her eyes as she flicks her fingers and leans more firmly into Sirius' side. Only
Marlene would be able to scold her like that and actually get her to shut up. She glances at
Lily. "That's lovely. Truly."

"Can I see it?" Peter asks in interest, and Lily passes it over, ripping her gaze away from
Mary while still gritting her teeth.
"That sure is—something," James mutters, a sour note to his voice as he grimaces, but at least
he tries. Mary doesn't even fucking try. In fact, she rolls her eyes again and scoffs louder.

"Right, and what gift has Sirius given you, Mary?" Lily demands, feeling hot and itchy,
overly agitated.

Mary smiles at her with all teeth. "His cock."

"And what a gift it is," Sirius teases lightly, grinning.

Remus makes a low noise of disgust. "No one cares."

"Um," Peter mumbles awkwardly, holding the swan out to Lily again, his gaze darting around
between everyone.

"Mm, Mary does," Sirius tells Remus, arching an eyebrow at him. "She's never had any
complaints."

"Then keep it between the both of you," Remus snaps, glaring at him. "The rest of us would
prefer to keep our lunch down, which is rather difficult to do when your cock is mentioned."

Sirius sputters, visibly offended. "As we've just established, Moony, my cock is a gift, so you
know what—"

"Alright!" James cuts in brightly, clapping his hands together as he pushes forward right in
the center of everyone. "Well, I say we carry on to the common room, yeah? Come on, then."

James quickly slips his arms over Marlene and Peter's shoulders, forming a wall between
Mary and Sirius and Lily and Remus, ushering everyone along and chattering rapidly until
everyone grudgingly starts to move. Lily cups her origami swan in one hand protectively and
slides her other through Remus' arm, letting him lean into her a bit.
"What's their fucking problem?" Lily grumbles under her breath, glaring at the back of
Mary's head over Peter's shoulder. Remus seems to be doing the same exact thing to Sirius
over Marlene's.

"Who bloody knows with them?" Remus says bitterly, huffing out a low breath. His face
softens when he looks over at her, though. "I like the swan. It's sweet."

"Thank you," Lily murmurs. "Robert is sweet."

"If you're happy with him," Remus tells her, "I'm happy for you. Everyone else can piss off,
yeah?"

Lily smiles. "Yeah. Exactly."

Hogwarts circa March, 1977

"I think we have to break up," Sirius says.

"Yeah, alright," Mary replies, exhaling a large cloud of smoke. They're outside in the
courtyard again, a common thing for them, especially now that it's not as cold. Mary
replenished her stash of smokes over the first break, but she's getting low again. Easter break
is coming up, so she'll do it then.

Sirius looks over at her, and she looks back, and they don't say anything for a long moment.
He coughs. "That's it?"

"What were you expecting?" Mary asks, vaguely amused.

"I don't know, really," Sirius admits. "Er, tears? Shouldn't there be tears? Don't people cry
when they break up?"

"Only if they don't want to break up, I imagine."

"Oh, so you...want to as well?"

Mary hums. "Yeah, it feels like the right time for it."

"Right." Sirius squints and scratches at the side of his head, his face scrunching. He's
frowning, but he dutifully takes the smoke when she offers it to him. "Did I do something
wrong?"

"No," Mary says, and he frowns harder. "Oh, sweetheart, don't do that. You're the one who
brought it up."

"I know, but—" Sirius halts, inhaling deep enough that his cheeks hollow, and then he shakes
his head as he exhales. He offers it to her, waiting for her to take it to speak. "I mean, I hoped
I wouldn't hurt your feelings by suggesting it, but…"

"But it stings a bit that I'm just alright with it," Mary fills in, because she gets it. She gets
him. He doesn't want her to be hurt, but indifference hurts him. Of course he would instantly
assume he's ruined things without even knowing it; that's just how his mind works. "Sirius,
it's not you or anything you did. You know it's us, right? We've both known the entire time,
from the very beginning."

"It was a mistake," Sirius mumbles.

"Yes," Mary agrees, "but the kind you learn from. The kind that teaches you something and
helps you grow as a person. The kind you don't regret. I'm thankful for this mistake."
Sirius glances at her curiously. "Yeah?"

"Aren't you?" Mary says cautiously.

"I am, yeah," Sirius admits, which soothes her immediately. He quirks a small smile. "I'd
never regret you, Macdonald. We had fun, didn't we?"

"We did," Mary confirms, taking another drag before holding out the smoke, letting him
pluck it from her fingers.

"It's just…" Sirius swallows. "I don't know. Maybe you're right. We've learned, we've grown,
and now it feels like it's done with. Time for us to let it go, do you know what I mean? At this
point, I think we'd just be dragging it out until we started to resent it, and then I worry we'd
lash out and hurt each other, but I don't want to reach that point. You're important to me,
Mary. I don't want to ruin that."

Mary chuckles. "Well, that's awfully mature of you, Black. I agree, in any case. I'm glad it
was you."

"I'm glad it was you, too," Sirius tells her.

"I love you, you know," Mary says softly, because she does, if not in the way most would
think. There's not a name for it, for the way she loves him, she doesn't think. It's a love that's
simultaneously too much and not enough.

Sirius huffs out a laugh and flicks the smoke away. "You would say that as we're breaking up.
Only you, Mary."

"And you wouldn't say it back," Mary replies, "even though I already know that you do."
"Mm, well, you're never wrong, are you?" Sirius says lightly, nudging her shoulder with his
own. She leans her head over on it, and he leans his head on top of hers. "I don't think I'll
ever say those words to anyone, not when they mean something deeper than friendship."

"You will," Mary whispers. "There's a person out there waiting to hear it, and you'll tell them.
You'll mean it every time."

"And you?" Sirius prompts.

"I don't think I know what love like that is," Mary confesses, closing her eyes.

"Neither do I," Sirius tells her quietly. He's silent for a long beat, then he sighs softly. "But I
think maybe we helped each other get closer to figuring it out."

Mary smiles. "We're one mistake closer to knowing."

Sirius chuckles, then hums in agreement and approval, and they really can't go anywhere
when they're lost with each other, but she thinks they've taught one another that they have
places they want to be. Now they just have to get there.

Hogwarts circa May, 1977

If there's one thing Lily doesn't appreciate, it's finding herself falling into a cliche. She does
not want to be the girl locking herself in the loo, hiding away from the world, and weeping.
It's such a common theme. Why does it have to happen to her?

Well, she knows why. She also knows that, in this case, she has a right to what most would
consider unnecessary dramatics; these dramatics are very necessary, thank you very much.
Lily likes to think of herself as a rational, logical person. Most of the time, she knows she is a
rational, logical person, if not completely analytical, except when she's angry, and then there's
not much rational, logical thinking at all. Someone like her wouldn't usually find themselves
tucked into a stall in the loo, arms around their legs, face pressed to their knees as they
release deep, painful sobs that shudder through their whole body. For her, specifically, this is
an unusual occurrence.

Like most people, Lily generally waits to cry until she's alone in the shower, where no one
can hear her and realize she has cried to begin with. It's not necessarily a routine, but it's
something she does when life gets to be too much, when things are too hard, when the
pressure is too heavy and she can feel herself starting to burn out, but she can't—she won't
crack under the strain. So, instead, she cries alone in the shower and pretends she doesn't
want to scream, cry, and tell everyone to stop expecting so fucking much out of her.

Lily has to have the perfect marks, and Lily has to have the perfect assignments, and Lily has
to be the perfect, prepared prefect at all times. Lily has to be a good friend, a kind person, and
a beautiful girl. Lily has the answers to any question, and she's never been naughty or wrong
or bad, and she never, ever disappoints the people who have such faith in her, no, never.

People don't know that Lily struggles to understand magical theory, and wants to pull her hair
out when assignments require her to cross-reference books, and sometimes heaves a sigh and
just pretends she's not a prefect at all. People don't know that Lily is a bad friend sometimes,
terribly rude at others, and occasionally looks in the mirror to find that she hates the
reflection that stares back. People don't know that Lily doesn't want to be asked questions
whether she knows the answer or not, like that's all she's good for, the information that lives
in her brain that everyone else could have if only they'd put in the effort to find it themselves.
People don't know that she has been naughty, wrong, and bad when trying so desperately to
be good, to behave well, to not do the things good girls shouldn't—and it didn't work. People
don't know that she will disappoint them; she will, she will, one day she'll disappoint
everyone; she already disappoints herself.

"Lily?"

Christ, can't she just hate herself in peace? Can't she have a dramatic meltdown alone? Can't
she regret every choice in life that led her to this moment without someone watching her do
it? Even if it is Remus, Lily still finds the knowledge that he's seeing her like this absolutely
dreadful, and the only thing to be done in this moment is wail louder and cry harder, because
of course, of course, this is happening to her.

"Right. Shit," Remus mumbles, but he nonetheless shuffles into the stall and slides down the
wall in between the toilet and her, sitting on the floor with his legs awkwardly folded in front
of him. His arm comes around her shoulders, and he hums in apparent understanding when
she chokes out a sob and turns her face into his shoulder, leaning into his side.

For a long time, Lily genuinely just goes limp against him like a dramatic, Victorian damsel
and sobs her little heart out about all the things that are wrong right now. School, home, her
very recent breakup with her boyfriend, the less recent issues taking place with Mary, life
feeling like it's falling apart. Remus rubs her arm, but he doesn't say anything, just lets her do
it. That's one of her favorite things about him; he just lets her do whatever without expecting
anything from her at all. She can't disappoint him, and she loves that about him.

Eventually, Lily's face feels swollen and gross, her throat is sore, and her eyes ache so bad
that crying literally isn't an option anymore. She has cried herself all out. All that's left is her
head on Remus' shoulder as she scrubs at her face with her sleeve, her breath still stuttering
out of her after all that ridiculous hyperventilating. Slowly, she calms.

"Merlin, Remus, I'm sorry," Lily croaks as soon as she finds her voice. Sorry you had to see
me like this. Sorry I fractured the pristine, put-together illusion of Lily Evans that so many
take comfort from. Sorry, sorry, sorry.

"Lily," Remus says, "what on earth would you have to apologize for?"

Lily huffs out a hoarse laugh. "Oh, don't get me started. It's a long list, and I don't even know
where to begin."

"You don't have to apologize," Remus murmurs, "and certainly not for crying. Bloody hell,
you're allowed, you know."

"I'd like to think I'm above it."

"Wouldn't we all?"

"Does that mean you've cried, too?" Lily rasps, sniffling a little, and maybe it's a childish
thing—the desire not to be the only one feeling like this.

Remus snorts weakly and lays his cheek on her head. "Believe it or not, I've done my fair
share of crying this year. Probably this year more than any other. Sixth year is shit."

"Absolute shit," Lily agrees.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Remus asks quietly.

Lily hesitates, because she isn't sure. She wants to get it out, to get her thoughts out, and
maybe get support; it's just that she can't go to Mary about this for obvious reasons, and she
can't go to Marlene, because that would put her in an awkward position, and she doesn't trust
anyone else the way she trusts them, except for Remus. If she's going to tell anyone who isn't
her two best friends, then it'll be him, her third.

The problem is, it's—it's really quite embarrassing. Not so much what she's feeling, she
doesn't think, but what she did. Remus wouldn't shame her for it, though, would he? Not him.
If she can trust anyone to be instantly on her side of things, even when perhaps they shouldn't
be, it's Remus Lupin.

"Robert and I have broken up," Lily mumbles.

"Oh," Remus replies, his voice softening. "I'm sorry, Lily."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Lily lifts her head and reaches up to push her hair behind her ears,
stifling a groan. "I broke up with him, Remus, and to be perfectly honest, I'm not upset about
it, really. He was just sort of—there, in a way. Oh, that sounds awful. He really was lovely,
and so kind, and I did enjoy being with him, but I—I wasn't in love with him, yeah?"

"I understand," Remus tells her soothingly, and she wonders if he really does or not. "I—well,
I suppose I could see that he wasn't exactly...the one for you. He never made you laugh."

"No, he didn't," Lily agrees miserably.

Remus sighs and squeezes her arm gently. "That doesn't mean the end of a relationship isn't
hard."

"It's not so much that it's over," Lily confesses, preemptively wincing and clearing her throat.
"It's more why it had to be over, do you know what I mean?"

"Why you broke up with him, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"That's what is...difficult for you?"

"Yeah."

"Alright," Remus ventures cautiously, clearly not understanding but doing his best to be
supportive anyway.

Lily groans out loud this time and drops her hands into her lap, tangling them together. She
bites her lip and swivels her head to stare at Remus, who watches her curiously. "Oh, Remus,
I did something awful."
"I'm sure that's not true," Remus says gently.

"No, it is," Lily insists. "I—I fantasized about someone else while Robert and I were—well."

At her significant look, Remus blinks. He blinks again, then clears his throat. "Right. I see.
Well...that's not—I mean, that's just...a brain thing. Sometimes your brain comes up with
these things, and it doesn't have to mean anything at all, yeah?"

"Remus, it means something," Lily tells him. "I know it does. Do you want to know how I
know?"

"I'm almost afraid to know," Remus mutters wearily, but he inclines his head. "Go on, then."

Lily exhales deeply, then grimaces. "It got me off."

"It—oh."

"That's not to say Robert hasn't, or doesn't, but not so quickly and never when he's doing that,
and—"

"Alright," Remus cuts in, nodding at her. "Alright, Lily, I get it. Your voice is getting high
and you look close to tears again, so let's just—move past that, yeah? So, it got you off. I
mean, brilliant? It doesn't make you an awful person fantasizing about someone other than
who your dating; I'm sure loads of people picture famous singers or Quidditch players or—"

"Best friends?" Lily chokes out, and Remus freezes.

For a long moment, Remus is just very still as he stares at her, his expression very mild and
neutral. Because she knows him, she knows his mind is in an uproar at the moment, and he's
doing his best not to react too quickly. Finally, he tugs his arm from around her and clears his
throat. "Lily, I—you know I care for you very much, but I—"
"Oh, not you, Remus," Lily complains, reaching out to swat him on the chest (gently) with
the back of her hand.

"Oh, thank god," Remus breathes out, his eyes fluttering shut as he deflates. Despite
everything, it makes her laugh weakly, and he breaks out into a warm grin as he opens his
eyes. After a moment, he raises his eyebrows. "So, if not me…"

Lily swallows harshly, wringing her hands in her lap, her heart thumping hard in her chest.
Her voice is a whisper when she drops her gaze and says, "Mary."

"Right," Remus says softly, and his entire demeanor is soft when she glances back up at him.
"Well, Lily, that doesn't have to mean anything either. You could just be…"

"You're not understanding," Lily murmurs, her shoulders slumping. "You don't have all the
information."

Remus pauses, his head swiveling as he looks around the empty loo, then glances at her
again. "So, give it to me, if you like. I'll listen if you want to explain."

"Well," Lily says, "it started last year…"

The thing is, this doesn't necessarily have to be a long, convoluted explanation. The basics
are this: in June of fifth year, Lily and Mary shared a kiss. Until the end of the term following
said kiss, things were strange and awkward between them. After the summer, however, they
returned and acted as if nothing had happened at all.

Except, for the first two and half months of this year, Mary continuously hinted at the kiss,
and then they nearly kissed again (Lily thinks), but after two days of things being strange
between them, Mary started dating Sirius. Two months after that, Lily started dating Robert.
Two months after that and four months after the beginning of the relationship, Mary and
Sirius broke up. Two more months after that, five months from the beginning of the
relationship, Lily fantasizes about Mary while shagging her boyfriend, then immediately
breaks up with him, and ends up in the loo, living out an infuriating cliche.

Really, it all seems very simple, doesn't it?

It's not simple, though, and Lily finds herself explaining that, too. How complicated it is.
How complex it all feels—the way Mary is still her best friend, in that they randomly share
looks and conversations with their eyes, and everything feels alright in the world for a while,
but it inevitably goes to shit. How Mary can be laughing with her in the dorm one moment,
then making snide comments under her breath about Lily's relationship with Robert the next.
How Mary reaches out to touch her mindlessly, and Lily reaches back, because that's how
they've always worked, but they pull away quickly like it's not the same, like they can't work
that way anymore.

And it all started with a kiss made of magic. That's where it all went wrong. It's not fair,
because Lily thought she moved past this. Whatever issues she had when Mary was dating
Sirius, she moved past them when she started dating Robert, or as much as she could. She
thought she moved past the continuous mistakes she made in regards to treating Mary as
anything other than a friend; no more thinking about a kiss, no more jealousy over her
boyfriend, no more lingering looks and the skin-prickling awareness that assaulted her from
the moment Mary dared to come too close.

Only, she just had a very intricate fantasy of her best friend when she was with her boyfriend,
and it did more for her than her boyfriend ever did. What the fuck is she supposed to do with
that? How does she live with that?

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Lily chokes out, by the end, and she's dangerously
close to crying again.

"Lily, there's nothing wrong with you," Remus murmurs, reaching down to capture both of
her hands in between his, cupping them and squeezing her fingers gently.

Lily gazes at him helplessly. "No? Because I—I just got off thinking about my best friend,
and I'm ruining everything just because of one kiss, Remus. We're not what we used to be,
and it's making me miserable, but I can't stop. Explain that, then."

"You can't help how you feel," Remus whispers.

"I don't want to feel this way," Lily confesses softly, a lump in her throat. "I wish I didn't feel
anything at all."

Remus leans his head against the stall, gazing at her with undeniable sadness in his eyes. "I
get it, you know. I really do."

"Do you?" Lily mutters bitterly. "What, are you having fantasies about your best friend, too?
I bet that would hardly matter in your case. James wouldn't even make it awkward."

"I—no, he wouldn't," Remus agrees with a hoarse laugh, but he swallows and stares down at
their hands. He's quiet for a long time before he speaks again, and all he says is, "Sirius."

"Sirius," Lily repeats, blinking.

"Yeah," Remus murmurs, lifting his head to meet her gaze as she searches his eyes. "Sirius is
the one I—well, I can't help how I feel about him, so I—I get it."

Lily feels as if she should have known this, because it's really rather obvious now that it's
been pointed out to her, but that's the thing about being so young; it's so easy to get caught up
in your own life, your own problems, that it's simple to miss the things that are right in front
of you. "Sirius. I—well, I doubt he'd make it awkward either, honestly. He really adores you,
you know. There's no denying that. Are you two—"

"No," Remus cuts in quickly. "No, we aren't—it's not like that. It'll never be like that. He
doesn't…" Remus shakes his head slightly and drops his gaze. "Just—just mates, really, that's
all. My point is, I understand how you feel, Lily."
"Does anyone else know?" Lily asks softly.

"James," Remus admits, and Lily's eyebrows shoot up. Remus rolls his eyes. "You're so hard
on him sometimes, you know. He's wonderful about it, honestly. If you'd believe it, he's
actually really good to talk to about it. Maybe you should."

Lily snorts. "James and I may be friends now, but I don't suspect we'll ever be close enough
that I'll tell him about this."

"Have you considered just—talking to Mary about it?" Remus ventures cautiously. "I mean,
Mary is sensible, and maybe it could clear some things up between you."

"Have you considered talking to Sirius?" Lily shoots back.

Remus scowls. "That's different."

"How? It's literally the same."

"It's not."

"Because you two are blokes, is that it?"

"No, Lily, not that. Merlin, you and Mary have snogged, and nearly snogged a second time.
It's something mutual, yeah?"

"I—yes, we snogged, but everything went wrong after that," Lily murmurs, heaving a deep
sigh. "It ruined the friendship, Remus. I miss her. I miss my best friend, and I'm scared I'll
never have her back again. I'm really scared."
"It's okay, Lily," Remus tells her, like he can make it so just by saying so. "It's going to be
okay."

Lily leans over into him and really, really hopes that's true.

Hogwarts circa May, 1977

When Mary was a little girl, her mother used to have a row of plants on the windowsill that
she tended to every day, and Mary begged and begged for her own plant to take care of, so
her mother gave her a little plant-pot with one singular bean that she was meant to take care
of.

Mary drowned it.

The thing about Mary is, she doesn't always know when enough is enough, when to stop
giving, when to stop pouring too much of everything so things can breathe. Maybe there's
just so much of her that she doesn't know what to do with it all. Maybe she just cares with all
that she has, pouring and pouring because she's overflowing, too.

Not a lot of people would believe this about her, but what Mary cares most about in this
world is people. Her people. Not her hair, or nails, or clothes. Not how she looks, or how
people look at her, or what performance she's putting on for the masses. No, what she
actually cares about is people—friends and family, most of all. And there's no one she cares
about quite the way she does Lily.

This is a bit of a double-edged sword, in that it is possible to care about someone so much
that you go about it in all the wrong ways. Mary also doesn't want to be doing what she's
doing, but she can't figure out how to stop.

Mary never had a problem with Robert as a person, if she's honest. She did have a problem
with Robert as Lily's boyfriend, though, and she doesn't think that's strange. As Lily's best
friend, she feels she has some idea of who is right for her, and Robert certainly wasn't it. Lily
deserves better. Lily deserves someone who actually fucking knows her, and not just what
image the rest of the idiots in the school see.

So, alright, maybe Mary has been mean. Maybe she's made comments. Maybe she's pointed
out over and over that Lily has been essentially wasting her time with him. Maybe she's given
her harshest opinion, and maybe she's been watching herself drive a wedge further and
further between them without knowing how to stop, because she's agitated and annoyed and
—well, overflowing. She gives, and gives, and gives; maybe even when she shouldn't.

This clearly was the wrong thing to do, she now knows. Lily and Robert have broken up.
Mary is delighted by this when she perhaps should not be, because she shouldn't be ecstatic
about anything that involves her best friend being upset.

Mary knows she has fucked up. Majorly. Lily, in the aftermath of her breakup, won't have
much to do with Mary at all. Mary had to hear the news from Marlene, and that stings,
honestly. It doesn't feel fair, because she thinks if Lily would have come to her, upset and
needing comfort, then Mary would have been there for her in a heartbeat. She wouldn't have
boasted about being right, or rejoiced in the loss of a bloke who didn't deserve Lily in the first
place, because she would set that all aside to be there for her best friend.

Except Lily never gave her the chance, and the worst part is, Mary knows she can't blame her
for that. She knows that Lily has every right to not want to come to her about it, because
Mary has been nothing but awful for the entirety of their relationship. Mary has no right to
feel upset.

And yet.

It's just—well, Mary is tired. Mary is so fucking tired of this. She's tired of not being on
proper terms with Lily. She misses her best friend. She wants to go back to the way they used
to be. But, now, Lily hardly speaks to her, won't meet her eyes, and avoids spending time
with her at all. It's driving Mary spare, making her bitter and sharp, getting under her skin in
a way nothing in this world does. It's stressing Marlene out, who is essentially being passed
back and forth between them, tugged in two different directions when they're all supposed to
be the closed unit they've always been.
Everything feels wrong, and Mary has had enough. She's fucking done with it. They're going
to fix this, no matter what it takes, and she's very aware that a lot of it is her fault, but she's
not going to pretend like Lily isn't to blame, too.

"Oh, look who decided to show up," Mary announces the moment Lily sweeps into the dorm.
"I was starting to think you forgot where you slept."

"Mary," Marlene reprimands sharply, staring at her in disbelief as she pulls her hair back
from her face.

"What?" Mary retorts. "I'm just saying. It's the first time she's been back here since before we
fell asleep in, what, a week?"

"You know I'm a prefect. I have rounds," Lily mutters, not looking at her as she moves over
to her bed to dump her bag on it, digging through it with her head ducked.

Mary scoffs. "Funny how that never meant anything before."

"Well, you're not a fucking prefect, are you, Mary? So, you don't know anything about it,"
Lily snaps.

"Oh, enough!" Marlene shouts, smacking her hands down to her thighs and glaring at them
both when they jolt and stare at her in shock. She leans over to snatch up her broom, eyes
flashing with anger. "I'm so fucking over whatever problem you two have with each other
right now. Not that either of you seem to care, but some of us actually miss when we were all
friends, but that doesn't really seem to be the case anymore. I swear to Merlin, you two are
making me bloody miserable."

"Marlene," Lily protests as Marlene starts marching across the dorm, scowling as she goes.

"No. Just—no," Marlene cuts in harshly, halting with her hand on the doorknob as she looks
between them. "I have practice. Why don't you two actually fucking talk to each other?
When's the last time you did that? Do you even know?"

Mary presses her lips into a thin line. "Wait, Marlene, don't go like this, not when you're
upset. Just—"

"I'll stop being upset when you two stop being stupid," Marlene interrupts, ruthless about it.
"Don't bother talking to me until you sort your shit out, yeah?"

With that, she yanks the door open and stomps out, slamming it shut behind her so hard that
Lily and Mary both cringe back. Well, shit. Now Mary feels more awful than she did before.

There's a long, heavy silence in the aftermath of Marlene's departure. The tension starts to
rise and grow thick before Mary can figure out how to stop it, and she feels like it's choking
her a bit. Lily still isn't looking at her, but she's gone very still, her hands paused on her bag.
She doesn't move.

"So," Mary says, eventually, spreading her hands on her knees as she narrows her eyes, "are
we going to sort our shit out?"

"There's nothing to sort out, Mary," Lily replies stiffly, and she goes back to digging through
her bag. Through the curtain of her hair, Mary can see Lily clenching her jaw.

"Well, that's obviously a fucking lie," Mary tells her, happy and eager to call her out on it, a
burning resentment in her chest because Lily still isn't looking at her. "You're avoiding me."

"I'm not—"

"That wasn't an invitation to keep lying, Lily."

Lily flings her bag down, fists clenching around the strap as she roughly leans across her bed
to sit down on the other side, next to her stand. Her skirt rides up a little bit, revealing the
back of her thighs, pale and peppered with freckles. Mary stares, then rips her gaze up when
Lily speaks. "Stop it. Just stop, Mary. I'm not in the mood."

"Are you ever in the mood for me anymore?" Mary grits out, bitterness coating her tongue
like poison. It makes her words sharp and deadly, an edge to them.

"What does that have to do with anything? You know I'm—I get busy, and with Robert, I've
just been—"

"Oh, spare me. I know your schedule better than my own, and are we still pretending that
you're heartbroken over a boy you weren't even interested in?"

"I was interested in him," Lily argues. "You may not have liked him, but I actually did."

"Not enough," Mary says boldly, because she knows, and she can see Lily's shoulders grow
tight. That's what I thought, Mary thinks, satisfied. "Of course, it's not like you came to me
about any of this supposed heartbreak. I didn't even know you broke up until Marlene told
me."

"Why would I tell you?" Lily still doesn't look at her, and now she's just sort of angrily
fluffing her pillow, just for something to do. "So you could tell me you were right? Whether
or not I actually fancied him enough to be heartbroken because it was over between us, it's
still true that the last fucking thing I wanted to hear was you gloating about it."

"You should have told me because I'm your best friend!" Mary bursts out, launching herself
from her own bed, swinging around it to grab onto one of her bed posts, making herself more
visible. Lily turns her head away. "Stop being a twat. I wouldn't have gloated about it. If you
were upset, I would have comforted you, and you didn't even give me the chance!"

"I don't need to be comforted," Lily hisses.

"So, you're not actually upset, then?" Mary challenges.

"I—" Lily groans and tosses her hands up. "God, Mary, just leave it alone, would you? I don't
want to talk about it."

"You're fine to talk about it with Marlene and Remus, but never with me. Now, why is that?"
Mary glares and leans further out, trying to force Lily to look at her, but Lily refuses. She
genuinely just turns her head yet again. "Either you're upset about Robert, or you're not, so
which is it? Go on, get your story straight. Really iron out those lies, Lily."

"I said leave it alone, Mary!" Lily explodes.

Mary doesn't have the good sense God granted her, as her mother would say. An angry Lily
Evans is not to be messed with, Mary knows this, even when Lily has never been angry with
her before. And yet, Mary pulls away from her bed to approach Lily's, moving closer with
her arms crossed, because she never knows when enough is enough. "No, actually, I won't do
that. You're being a shit friend, do you know that?"

"And you don't know when to back the fuck off!" Lily shouts back, tossing her pillow angrily
to the bed.

"Well, what am I supposed to do? Just carry on letting you be a bad friend like it's not—"

"How am I being a bad friend? Because I don't want to talk? I hate to break it to you, but not
everything revolves around what you want, alright? Just because I haven't acted exactly as
you think I should doesn't mean I'm being a bad friend! You keep saying I'm avoiding you,
but I'm not."

"Really?" Mary tilts her head. "Look at me, then."

Lily doesn't. She doesn't even move.

"Go on," Mary insists when it's silent for longer than fifteen seconds, and Mary did count,
yes. "Look at me, Lily. Do you know you haven't looked at me once in the past week?"

"I have looked at you," Lily says sharply. "Maybe you just didn't notice. That's not my bloody
fault."

"Look at me now, then," Mary prompts, narrowing her eyes, and Lily still won't. She hasn't
been, and it's making Mary feel fucking insane. She just wants Lily to look at her. Look at
me, Mary thinks. Just look at me at least once, please. Look at me, look at me, look at me.
But Lily doesn't. "Right, so you can't even look at me now. Brilliant. And what exactly have I
done to deserve this, or are you so heartbroken over Robert—"

"Oh, fuck off," Lily spits out. "I already told you—"

"You haven't told me anything!" Mary shouts, and this isn't really her, the shouting and losing
her composure, because she's a performer, and she knows not to ruin the show. But this—oh,
this is real. She isn't on the outside of herself; she's planted so firmly in her own body that she
can feel every inch of her frame rattling like she's about to fall apart. "You won't talk to me,
or come near me, or even fucking look at me, and that's not fair. It's not fair, Lily. I don't even
know why—"

"Because, Mary," Lily bursts out, whipping around to look directly at her, "while I was
shagging my ex-boyfriend, I imagined your head between my thighs instead of his!"

Silence falls between them like a guillotine, and Mary's brain runs directly into a brick wall.
Lily stands before her, chest heaving, her face flushed and her eyes bright, and Mary just
stares. She can only stare, because she can't do anything else, because she can't even fucking
breathe.

The first thought that registers in Mary's brain is thighs? She knows what Lily's thighs look
like. She was looking at them earlier. She's seen them many times. She's even touched them,
just an innocent hand braced on her thigh, or gripping it in excitement while she prattled on
about something. Nothing naughty, of course, because they're best friends, and best friends
don't do that. Except—well, except maybe they think about doing it, because Mary's certainly
thinking about it now.
Lily has thick thighs. Lovely thighs. The sort of thighs that fill out trousers in a mouth-
watering way; the sort of thighs that would surely make for good pillows. This isn't an odd
thing to think, because Lily is beautiful from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, and
Mary isn't scared to acknowledge that, or say it. That's just the truth. It doesn't have to
mean…

But it does mean. Mary knows what it means, now. Her fucking mouth has gone dry, and her
heart is pounding, and she's not ignorant to what desire feels like. She knows.

It's a bad idea. It's a very, very bad idea. Mary is so very aware that it's a bad idea, just
because of how fragile things have been between them already, but Lily… Oh, why did Lily
tell her this? Because now that Mary knows, now that she has it confirmed that Lily actually
had that fantasy, and while she was with that git Robert, too—well, now Mary is
experiencing something miraculous. A heady rush of temptation that calls to her, a steady
pulse of I want, I want, I want.

Because Mary wants. Oh, fucking hell, she wants. She's never wanted anything as badly as
she wants to make Lily's little daydream a reality. She wants it so badly she's overflowing,
and anything less won't be enough.

"Lovely," Lily snaps, her nostrils flaring. "Look what you've done. Why can't you just leave
well enough alone? You were so fucking desperate to know. Happy now? Better now that
you've found out? You always just push, and push, and—"

"Shut up," Mary says breathlessly, and it takes her less than fifteen seconds to push Lily up
against the wall and kiss her.

It's fucking sublime the way Lily instantly welcomes it, more than welcomes it, in fact,
because her hand flies up to the back of Mary's neck, reeling her in and keeping her there.
Mary has captured Lily's face in her hands, and there's no hesitation, no caution. They
immediately go for it like they're picking up where they left off on their last kiss.

Lily's lips are so soft, so fucking soft, and Mary thinks she loves them. She loves everything
about Lily, every part of her, so it only makes sense that she would love this, too. Lily is all
passion without guidance, spilling out between them with an urgency that should be
frightening, except Mary has never been more relieved by anything in her life—because she
matches it. Mary echoes it just the same, just as impulsive and wild and untamed, just as
desperate.

Mary, who has always appreciated the heady sensation of power, has never felt more
powerless than she does in this moment, under Lily's fingertips, ready to bend at her will.
That should scare her, but it doesn't. It's thrilling, in a way. It makes her feel shaky and
untethered, more free and real than she's ever been, because this isn't a performance, this isn't
the dangerous power of knowledge; Mary knows nothing outside of Lily's mouth against her
own, and she's left the show behind to exist here and now, going somewhere, anywhere that
Lily will lead her, and oh, oh god, she wants to follow.

"Mary," Lily chokes out the moment Mary breaks away, her fingers sweeping Lily's hair over
her shoulder and to the side so she can press kisses down the side of her throat.

For a moment, Mary squeezes her eyes shut, breathing hard, dipping her head to press her
face against Lily's shoulder. They just stand there, not saying a word, Mary pinning Lily to
the wall with her body and Lily frantically flexing her fingers at the front of Mary's shirt
down by her stomach like she's prepared to yank her back in if she tries to pull away. The
thing is, Mary doesn't think she can pull away. She genuinely doesn't have it in her to manage
it.

Lily's harsh swallow clicks in the echoing silence, as loud as their breathing. "What—"

Mary doesn't let her finish. She doesn't know where that goes, and that's what she's afraid of.
More pertinently, Mary has gone too long without kissing her. She's in this now; if she's here,
if Lily is letting her do this, then Mary is fucking doing it, and she's going nowhere else.

It's lovely the way Lily legitimately just melts the moment Mary captures her mouth with her
own again. This kiss is tender, though. It's almost an apology, because Mary doesn't have the
words for it at the moment, but she wants Lily to feel it, to feel how sorry she is for how she's
been acting, for the ways in which she's felt fucking insane as of late.

Mary makes it as sweet as she can, this kiss, because Lily deserves it. Lily deserves to feel
cherished, and Mary can show that; she can prove that she does cherish her.
She's not expecting Lily to return the favor. She doesn't see it coming, the way Lily reaches
up to cradle her face and kisses her like she's precious, like every moment of it is a gift that
she's so very grateful to have. It's enough to knock down every guard Mary inexplicably,
unknowingly has up. It's not even a violent process; Lily just gently sweeps in and dismantles
her with careful fingers, and Mary can hear the whimper that escapes her throat, a sound that
Lily swallows like it's the best thing she's ever tasted.

And that's it. Mary is gone. Maybe she has been for a long time now, but there's no ignoring it
anymore, no excuses. Mary would fold herself down into the palms of Lily's hands and live
there. She wants to. It feels like salvation, like absolution, and Mary is helpless to stop herself
from craving it. She doesn't even bother trying, giving into it without a fight.

"Lily," Mary says weakly, willing to beg at this point. She runs her hands down Lily's sides,
obsessed with the shape of her, touching her in a way that friends typically do not—but if it's
so fucking wrong, then why does it feel so fucking right? Her hand slips down the curve of
Lily's hip, fingers digging into the side of her skirt, bunching it up. "Lily, please, can we—"

"Yes, yes, Christ, yes," Lily chants breathlessly, and Mary could weep from the relief, or fall
apart from the excitement, or fully just crumble from the permission.

It's easy, then. Not to talk. There's no need to talk, excluding the soft curses and exhaled
names they pass back and forth on the way to Lily's bed. Mary hasn't been here in so long,
but she's so very grateful to go stumbling into it now.

It feels like coming home.

Evans' home circa August, 1977

"Lily! Lily!"
Groaning, Lily flings herself up from her bed and marches to the door, snatching it open to
shout, "What, Petunia?!"

"Girls," comes the inevitable call from their mother in a strained tone. "No shouting the roof
down, please."

"It was Lily, Mum!" Petunia bellows, and Lily rolls her eyes up to glare at the roof, wishing it
would just come down on top of her and save her from this moment. "Lily!"

"Oh, what do you bloody want?!" Lily snarls, stomping halfway down the stairs to lean
against the banister, scowling at Petunia, who leans outside the kitchen with their yellow
telephone held out, a similar scowl on her face.

"Someone rang for you," Petunia says, rolling her eyes. "That girl you're always banging on
about."

Lily's eyes bulge. "Petunia," she hisses, flinging herself down the stairs frantically to snatch
the telephone and hastily cover the receiver. "Do you mean Mary?"

"I don't know her name," Petunia mutters carelessly, and maybe she really doesn't, but Lily
thinks she just pretends not to. Lily knows all about Petunia's friends, and her boyfriend, but
Petunia makes a point to not care about the people in Lily's life. "One of those freak girls
from that freak school of yours, no doubt. Just don't talk too long. It's late and I want to ring
Vernon when it's still a respectable hour."

"Fine," Lily grumbles, making a face at Petunia, who childishly makes a face back, and then
they both roll their eyes before Petunia turns away to sweep back into the kitchen. Lily can't
help the twinge in her chest as she watches her go, because years ago, making faces at each
other always led to smiles. They never smile at each other anymore. Sighing, Lily turns and
puts her back against the wall, twisting her finger up into the spiral telephone cord that bobs
through the crack of the door as she raises it to her ear. Helplessly, her heart is racing in her
chest. "Hello?"
"As many times as I've rang and she answered, you'd think she'd at least know my name by
now," Mary says dryly.

"Hi, Mary." Lily bites down on her bottom lip, fighting a grin and also so ridiculously
nervous. "I'm sure she does. She's just pretending she doesn't, is all."

"Mm," Mary hums, audibly amused. "Well, that's alright. I'm fine just being the freak girl
from your freak school. The one you're always banging on about, apparently?"

Lily's eyes sink shut in mortification, her face flooding with heat immediately. "She—she
could have meant Marlene, too. But, well, Marlene doesn't know how to ring anyone."

"I'm telling her you said that."

"Is she still with you?"

"No, she only stayed for a week before she had to go home," Mary tells her. There's a pause.
"I know you said you couldn't, because you would be traveling, but you were missed."

"I would have rather been there," Lily admits.

"Didn't enjoy visiting extended family?" Mary guesses with sympathy in her voice.

"Not really. They all felt like strangers to me," Lily murmurs, dropping her gaze. "I'm not
around when they come to visit, so it's Petunia they know, really. And they don't—I mean, as
far as they know, I'm in a prestigious boarding school for really gifted minds, which feels…"
Lily sighs. "I don't know, I suppose it feels unfair. It makes Petunia bitter, because it's
insinuated that she's not as brilliant, but it's more complicated than that, as you know. And
then, well, maybe I'm bitter because she knows our relatives better than I get to."

"You could get to know them," Mary suggests tentatively.

"Not really," Lily says softly. "I have to lie to them about who I am, what school I go to, what
I learn and such. It's all—fake. If our family was closer, it wouldn't be a problem to tell them,
the way so many of your relatives know, but they only really come round a few times a year,
half of which I'm not even present for. Just seems...pointless, I suppose."

Mary sighs quietly. "I'm sorry, Lily. I know it's hard. If—if it helps at all, my aunt Tannie
asked after you, and Bingley still has a hopeless crush on you to this day."

"Oh, Bing Bing," Lily replies with a laugh, warmth blooming in her chest because Mary
always seems to know exactly what to say to make her feel better. Bingley is her little
brother, approximately eight years younger, who met Lily all of once and declared that she
was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. He's an adorable little boy, really, but all of Mary's family
is truly lovely. "Is he there? Tell him hi for me, yeah?"

"I will," Mary assures her with a chuckle. "Though, honestly, I think you have a bit of
competition. There's this girl in his class he's always banging on about now, and you know
what that means."

Lily twists the cord around her fingers, chewing the inside of her lip as her heart thumps hard
in her chest. "When someone is banging on about someone else, you mean?"

"Right," Mary confirms, a lilt to her voice that makes Lily's stomach squirm. "It means they
fancy them."

"Maybe they're just friends," Lily whispers, tipping her head back against the wall, praying
that Mary will contradict her.

All Mary does is give a pensive hum, then murmurs, "Maybe. Only time will tell, I reckon.
He's young, in any case."

"Right, yeah, he is," Lily agrees, clearing her throat, then wincing when she remembers that
Mary can hear her.
There's a long silence between them, and Lily anxiously tugs at the cord, rolling it around her
fingers and unraveling it over and over again. She can't help but think about it, that day in the
dorm when they ended up in bed together. Honestly, she thinks about it a lot, even more than
she should.

That had been magical, too, just like their kiss—all their kisses, because they've had more
than just one by now. They'd done a lot of snogging in the midst of all the shagging, which
Lily, for one, is honestly grateful for. It's a double-edged sword, though. As thankful as Lily
is to have kissed Mary (and more) as many times as she did, it hasn't at all diminished the
desire to do it again, as many times as she can get away with.

The thing is, they haven't talked about it. They'd carried on as if it never even happened.
Well, that's not entirely true. Things were...different afterwards. Strange. A bit awkward,
honestly, in a way that Lily isn't so sure she likes. A lot of aborted touches, averted eyes, and
uncertain dancing around each other. But Mary smiled at her, and spoke to her with warmth
in her voice, and didn't seem to hate her for what happened, so maybe that's more than Lily
could ask for.

But, well, Lily can't help but want to ask for more. She wants to ask a lot of things. What did
it mean? Are we still okay? Do you think about it as much as I do? Is it haunting you like it is
me? Can we possibly do it again, preferably indefinitely? Did we ruin our friendship? Would
it be the worst thing in the world if we did, if this is an option instead? Don't you want more,
too?

All of this stays trapped behind her teeth, and she can't say any of it. What if she's wrong?
What if Mary regrets it? What if the feelings aren't the same, and Lily loses her?

"Lily," Mary says slowly, "I was—well, I was wondering if—"

"Lily!" Petunia's head pokes out of the door, eyes narrowing in distaste. "Aren't you finished
yet? I want to ring Vernon."

"No," Lily snaps, quite literally contemplating murder at the moment, because her entire
being wants to know what Mary was just about to say. "No, I'm not finished, and you can just
fucking wait, is what you can do."

"You're so vulgar," Petunia hisses. "Mum! Lily is cursing that filth again!"

"Lily," comes the strained tone of their mum, "what did we say about the profanity, darling?
Do I need to get the soap?"

"No, Mum. Sorry," Lily calls back weakly.

Mary stifles a laugh on the other end of the telephone, and Lily wants to roll up in a ball and
die. She curls her fingers at Petunia, miming like she's choking her, and Petunia rears back,
hand to her chest like she's clutching pearls that aren't even there. With frantic gestures, Lily
jabs her finger towards the kitchen, her face hot as she quite obviously indicates for Petunia
to fuck off. Petunia doesn't listen, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently, looking
offended when Lily flips her off. Lily ends up groaning in defeat.

"Petunia is waiting, isn't she?" Mary asks.

"Yes," Lily says miserably.

"Right next to you?"

"Yes."

Mary sighs. "Of course she is."

"It's alright. She can wait a bit longer," Lily says, glaring right at Petunia, who sniffs with
disdain. "You were saying…"
"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit longer," Mary murmurs. "I don't think that's a
conversation I'd like to have with you when your sister is around."

Lily swallows. "Oh, and why not?"

"Goodnight, Lily," Mary says with a soft laugh, something warm and smug in her voice that
makes Lily clamp down on her bottom lip with her teeth, and then the line disconnects.

"You are the worst," Lily declares, dumping the telephone in Petunia's waiting hands before
turning to dart up the stairs, going right back to her room where she flings herself down on
her bed and buries her grin into her pillow.

Hogwarts circa October, 1977

Mary doesn't know what she's doing.

This is unusual, because Mary generally always knows what she's doing—except, apparently,
when it comes to Lily Evans.

It's just that Mary had a plan. She had a fucking plan, alright? A very good, very simple plan
in which she would just be direct, meaning she would talk to Lily and say something that
didn't sound as mental out loud as it did in her head—like would you possibly want to be best
friends who shag?

And, look, she knows how mental that sounds. She's circled the thought suspiciously enough
in her own head to be very aware of all the issues with it, but she feels justified in wanting to
say it. The reasons? Well, they make sense to her. For one, she would very much like to shag
Lily again, many times, and frequently. For two, she would like to do that and remain her best
friend in the process, because she rather thinks it would kill her if she lost Lily in any
capacity. She would happily never shag her, or kiss her, if doing so meant they couldn't stay
close.
So, Mary—who handles things—had come up with a proposal, which essentially boiled
down to them having the benefits of both. Best friends who shag. Is that illegal? Unheard of?
Is that simply not done? Well, maybe they could be first.

Except, in person, Mary lost her fucking nerve.

Yes, she's ashamed and baffled by this, too. It's never happened to her before, you see, so you
can imagine how upsetting it was for her to discover that it could happen to her at all. Mary
Macdonald knows her strengths, and one of them is that she's a girl with a lot of fucking
nerve.

But then, when they flung themselves at each other at the train station just like they always
did, nothing felt different, and at the same time, everything did. And, for just a bit, Mary
wanted to appreciate how perfect things felt between them. Simple and easy, like they had no
strain the previous school year at all, like they were operating on a new slate where they
could be themselves and either get it right, or get it terribly wrong.

Between that, getting caught up in the rush of returning for their last year, Lily being Head
Girl, dealing with the Professors cracking down and swearing not to take it easy on them, as
well as catching up with all of their friends on all the things that they missed… Well, Mary
lost her nerve. It slipped from her fingers, much the same way Lily always seems to.

But that's alright, because Mary is handling it. She may be scared beyond belief in a way she
never has been before, but she's testing the waters, so to speak. Just—well, she thinks maybe
if she knew for sure that Lily would be open to her proposal, then it would certainly be easier
to make it.

This means that she'll wait for Lily to either give her a sure sign that can't be misinterpreted,
or just until Lily approaches Mary herself, if she wants to. It's going to have to be Lily who
makes the first move, if there's moves to be made, because for once, Mary doesn't know what
the fuck she's doing. Christ, Lily has undone her completely, and Mary doesn't even mind.

That doesn't mean Mary isn't going to take every available opportunity to give Lily the
opening, should she need one. A little bit of harmless flirting, at the very least. If Lily wants
something, she's the determined sort to go after it, and Mary intends to make it very clear that
Lily can come after her.

"Have you ever seen Sirius look so stressed?" Marlene murmurs sympathetically one evening
while the three of them are all lazing about in their beds, chatting. Marlene is knitting, Lily is
painting her nails with an adorable wrinkle of concentration in between her eyebrows, and
Mary is half-heartedly doodling in her old diary that she hasn't written in since third year. "I
just—I mean, it's awful about his brother, yeah? I think he's really worried."

"I know," Lily says softly, gently waving her hand through the air. "I never thought I'd see the
day where Sirius was actually showing that he cares about his brother."

"I thought he didn't," Marlene admits.

Lily gives a slightly sad smile. "That's not usually how siblings work, Marlene, especially
when they used to be close once upon a time. He always cared. He always will. Just,
sometimes, when your sibling is...not the best, you hide that."

"Yes, well, clearly there's more to Baby Black than meets the eye," Mary points out, tapping
the tip of her quill to the page with a small frown. "It's a shame that he's… I mean, it can't be
easy on him, no matter how well he seems to be handling it. And what? Because he fancies
blokes?"

There's a long, long beat of thick silence between all of them. Lily is staring directly at her
knees, hand still poised in the air, frozen in place. Marlene has briefly stopped knitting, her
whole body tense. Mary glances between them, waiting for some sort of response, but she
gets nothing.

"Oh, this better be a joke," Mary spits out, infuriated instantly. She snaps her diary shut and
sits up, glaring between them as they stare at her, startled. "Tell me neither of you think
there's anything fucking wrong with him being gay!"

Lily's mouth drops open. "What?! No! Of course not, Mary, fucking hell."
"Marlene?" Mary challenges, eyes narrowing. Marlene visibly hesitates, and Mary inhales
sharply. "Marlene."

"No, alright?" Marlene mutters. "I don't. It's just—well, it's not really—it just isn't done. My
heart breaks for him, actually, because this is literally the worst thing that could have
happened to him. People are going to be awful to him for the rest of his life, Mary. That's why
people don't—"

Mary leans back a little, settling down a bit. Marlene doesn't finish, but she doesn't have to.
That's why people don't admit it, that's why people don't do it, that's why people don't accept
it. There are countless ways that could have ended. "Well, he didn't really have a choice, from
what I've heard. It's fucked. People should get to be—whoever they are."

"No one's arguing with you," Lily says gently. "We can agree that he should be free to be who
he is and also wish he didn't have to suffer like he's going to. Like he already is. The whole
castle is talking about it, how his friends have nothing to do with him anymore, how
differently he's being treated already."

"They weren't his true friends, then," Mary declares, and she believes it down to her bones. "I
would never abandon any of my friends for that, and I can safely say…"

Marlene blinks at her. "Oh, come off it, of course we wouldn't abandon you if it was you.
Surely you know that."

"It is me," Mary says, because she's a girl who has a lot of fucking nerve, and it is her, and
why shouldn't she say it? Sure, she'll put it to the test right here and now. Take it or leave it,
she thinks boldly, then waits.

"It's…" Marlene stares. She opens her mouth, darting a quick look at Lily, then focuses on
her again. "You mean you're…"
"I fancy girls," Mary confesses, struggling not to look right at Lily, determined to be as calm
and casual about this as she can, because she's making a point.

"Oh," Marlene breathes out. "You do? So, you—you don't fancy boys at all, then?"

Mary shakes her head. "No, I do. I fancy both."

"Oh," Marlene repeats, clearing her throat and leaning back.

"So do I," Lily announces abruptly, and they turn to stare at her, startled. Her face is tomato
red, but her jaw is a firm line of determination, and Mary feels herself soften. Despite the fact
that Mary did it first, she finds herself inexplicably blown away by Lily's bravery. "Fancy
both, I mean. I also—do that."

Mary works very hard to be cool about this. She technically knew this, honestly, in a distant
sort of way where she didn't really—look at it directly, for her own sanity.

For a long moment, Mary goes back and forth on reading too much into this. Is it an
invitation? A hint? Oh, that makes Mary feel a little dirty, actually. This is Lily opening up
and trusting them; Mary shouldn't take it as anything else. To assume that… No, she won't.
She refuses. She has too much respect for Lily to do something like that.

"I kissed a girl once," Marlene blurts out, and she's pale when Lily and Mary swing their
heads over to look at her. She looks like she's about to vomit, honestly. "Well, more than
once, if I'm honest. That's—that's all we did. It was during sixth year, on Christmas break.
Her name was Noémie."

"Did you...like it?" Mary asks cautiously, her heart clenching in her chest, because she can
see how much Marlene is struggling with this. Her fingers are tangled in the yarn in her lap
so tight that her knuckles are pale.

"Yeah," Marlene rasps. "Yeah, I—I liked it."

"So, you're…" Lily trails off when Marlene swallows harshly and ducks her head, and
suddenly, the only thing that matters is her. Nothing is more important than reassuring her
right now, and Lily obviously agrees. "Well, that's lovely, Marlene. That you snogged
someone and enjoyed it."

"Is it?" Marlene mumbles.

"Yes," Mary says fiercely, pushing herself up and sharing a long look with Lily and getting a
nod in return, that silent communication that Mary loves so much with her. "It's so lovely that
we're going to celebrate, all of us. No one will know that we're celebrating that we're literally
the best group of friends anyone can ask for, but they don't need to know; they'd all get
jealous anyway. Come on, I'd bet my life that the boys have some drinks stowed away in their
dorm."

"Oh, yes, let's go raid them," Lily agrees immediately, sweeping over to join Mary in helping
pull Marlene up from the bed, drawing grudging laughter out of her.

Fifteen minutes later, Mary is banging on the door to the dorm they're almost as familiar with
as their own, at this point. It's not quiet within—it rarely is—so it becomes obvious when
those inside hear them knocking. There's a long beat, then the door swings open to reveal
Peter, who smiles at them.

"Ah, hello," Peter greets warmly, winking at them, grinning wider when they stifle laughter.
His hair is sticking up in all directions, and his round cheeks are flushed, eyes bright with the
remnants of laughter that hasn't yet died in his voice.

"Hello," Mary greets formally, dipping into an over-the-top curtsey as if he's royalty. "Forgive
the intrusion, Mr. Pettigrew, but we were hoping to call upon you and the ruffians you keep
company with to aid us in our dire time of need."

"Lady Macdonald, I would love nothing more than to provide assistance for whatever ails
you," Peter replies grandly, snapping up straight like he's been given a task of great
importance. A smile fights its way to his face, but he continues to fight it back. "What is it
that you seek?"
"Alcohol," Mary tells him solemnly.

Peter snaps his fingers and hums. "Ah, yes, the liquid spirits of which mend the inside. I do
believe we can assist, but I regret to inform you that if such liquid spirits are to be given, at
least half of the ruffians I claim will insist on sharing. Unless, of course, you have a greater
need to take it with you."

"Hm." Mary shares a look with Lily and Marlene, her eyebrows raised, and after another
silent conversation, a decision is made. Mary looks at Peter. "We accept the request to split
the shares, if granted entry."

"Of course," Peter says immediately, stepping back to let them file in. As they do, he calls,
"Lads, crack out the firewhiskey; the girls are here, and we're all about to mend our insides."

The door shuts with a click, and that's exactly what they do.

Hogwarts circa January, 1978

Lily has everything under control.

She's being good this year. She has all plans to not majorly ruin her fucking life, especially
because this is the last year, and she needs to keep it together. That means staying on top of
her studies, her duties as Head Girl, and her friendships.

On that last one, she thinks she's doing quite well, actually. Really well, in fact, particularly
when it comes to Mary. Last year, she would have never expected to find herself here,
comfortable with Mary again, everything easy and simple between them without any strain or
discomfort. The truth is, Lily would give up wanting more to keep this instead; she is giving
it up, actively and with concentrated efforts.
Does she slip up sometimes? Well, yes, but Lily is only human. There are moments where
Mary touches her just a little too long, a little too intimately, and it sends Lily into a spiral
that's basically routine at this point. She doesn't know what it means when it happens, when
Mary's hand fits against the small of her back, sitting there steady and warm; when Mary
leans in close enough that Lily can smell that lovely lotion of hers; when Mary gets drunk
and hangs off her at parties, the entirety of her body pressed against Lily's; when Mary looks
at her sometimes in quiet moments, and the world shrinks down to the way she gently
brushes her own fingers over her mouth back and forth, drawing Lily's eyes there every time.

No, Lily doesn't know what that means, but she knows what she wants it to mean, even if
she's so very afraid that it doesn't mean anything at all. What she does know is that she won't
be doing much about the frustrating situation she's found herself in, because Mary isn't doing
anything about it, which must mean she doesn't want to. So, Lily has come to the decision to
behave and not put their friendship at risk.

But oh, sometimes… Christ, sometimes Mary looks at her a certain way, and it's all Lily can
do not to throw all caution to the wind and see what happens if she were to return the favor of
pressing Mary up against a wall and snogging her senseless.

"Alright, Lily?" Mary asks, tilting her head slightly as she taps the end of her fork to her lips.
She's been taking slow, languid bites of breakfast like she's making a career out of it, and
alright, so maybe Lily has been utterly riveted by the sight.

"Fine," Lily mutters, clearing her throat as she lifts up her goblet to drink something. Her dry
mouth appreciates it. Down the table, Sirius can be heard sounding horrified about the fact
that he's drooled on Remus, which makes Lily tuck a fond smile away. If those two aren't
shagging by Easter, Lily is going to personally sit Sirius down and illuminate him of his own
feelings, of which he blatantly has, and clearly isn't aware of. At this point, the poor thing is
suffering, and so is Remus.

"You've barely eaten anything. Here," Mary says, piercing a bite on the end of her own fork
and reaching out to hold it in front of Lily's mouth.

Lily stares at it, then stares at Mary. After a moment where their gazes are locked, Lily sways
in and wraps her lips around the fork, never taking her eyes off Mary as she slides back and
slowly chews. Mary's eyes go completely hooded, a look of pure satisfaction on her face, and
Lily swears she can feel the brutal thump of her heart in her eyeballs. Mary smiles, a small
curl of full lips, and then she spears a bite for herself and eats it just as slow. Lily blinks and
swallows, darting her gaze around to see if anyone else just witnessed what she would label
as an incredibly charged moment. No one's even looking at them, and Lily wants to toss her
hands up, because she would love a second opinion right now.

This is making it more difficult to keep things under control, honestly, and Lily is trying so
very hard, she really is. There are countless reasons to do so, not even taking into account
their friendship. Set aside the most important thing, and there's still so much left. For one
thing, what would it even be, if they did anything? Best friends who shag? More? Would they
date, become girlfriends, no longer be best friends? They'd have to hide, wouldn't they? It's
not like a queer couple can just be blatantly a couple in Hogwarts. Lily doesn't even know
what something like that would look like.

"Oi, Potter!"

Lily swings her head in tandem with Mary and Marlene, startled and intrigued by the
approach of Regulus Black. A few times, Lily has seen James taking off after Regulus,
though she's never really thought to ask why. Sirius and Regulus are on good terms, and
Regulus stays with the Potters, so Lily figures it makes sense that James and Regulus would
at least be cordial enough to interact.

Still, Lily finds herself mildly curious about the way James absolutely lights up the moment
Regulus comes near. He literally perks up, breaking out into one of those smiles that come to
someone's face instinctively, naturally, helplessly.

"Oh, hello, I was just talking about you," James says cheerfully, his words overly loud in the
silence of those at the table, because Regulus Black showing up and not even focusing on his
brother does warrant attention.

"I'm sure," Regulus replies, sounding bland, his hand hovering over the table before he drops
what's clearly a Gryffindor tie right by James' plate. "I nearly put that on this morning, so do
me the favor and keep it."
"Now, why would Baby Black have James' tie?" Mary whispers, her eyebrows shooting up,
and Lily can't help but wonder the same thing, as are many others, because a lot of people are
starting to break out in whispers as well.

James looks offended and blurts out, "You're the one who took it off me."

Immediately, silence falls. Lily blinks hard. Oh? Oh, is that so? Oh, so it's like...that. Right,
well, Lily didn't see that coming. She exchanges a look with Mary and Marlene, both who
look just as startled as her, though Marlene looks alarmed as well.

"It was late. I was distracted," Regulus says dryly, then he heaves a sigh and looks up. "I have
to go."

"Oh, alright, but—"

"Yes, James, I'll see you later. You'll find me, I'm sure. You always do."

"Yeah, that's sort of my thing, isn't it?" James asks with a grin, with that same smile that
seems to live on his face just because it invited itself there while it's Regulus he's talking to.

Honest to God, Lily could never have predicted what happens next if she had a million
chances in a million lifetimes to do so. Regulus rolls his eyes, steadies himself on the table,
then dips in and kisses James as if they're an old married couple who kiss in a form of saying
hello and goodbye. It's visibly not their first kiss, because it's so casual and natural, and James
accepts it like it's an instinct, even going so far as to sway into it a bit and keep his lips
puckered like he fully expected the kiss to last longer than it did.

Then Regulus draws back and says, "I try not to reinforce bad behavior, but it is,
unfortunately, your thing."

With that, he straightens up and walks away.

"Right. Right, wait—oi, have a good day!" James shouts enthusiastically, nearly falling off
the bench to keep his attention on Regulus as he retreats. He only gets a lazy gesture in
return, and James huffs as he scoots back in at the table, seeming utterly oblivious to the
small, fond smile that curves his mouth before he ever raises his gaze.

Lily stares at him as the whispers and chattering rise up all around her, unable to take her
eyes off of him. For years, James has never given any indication that he would ever stray
from Lily, not really, at least until last year...sort of? They became friends, and she was aware
that he still fancied her, but it was clear he respected that she didn't fancy him in return, and
he finally stopped pestering her and coming up with ridiculous plans to win her affections.
Now, it seems that he's actually, genuinely moved on—and that's great.

What's not great is that Lily is almost positive she's about to undergo the torture of seeing an
open queer couple, knowing that she wants the same damn thing with Mary.

James' gaze finds hers down the table, and he breaks out into a grin. Lily does not smile
back.

Hogwarts circa February, 1978

Mary has a very strange day.

Well, considering the week that they've all had, she would say a strange day is expected, at
this point. Baby Black very nearly dies, Mulciber gets expelled, James has a furious
meltdown, Marlene announces to the world that she's a lesbian, and Lily throws her all into
teaming up with James to start on forming the first queer club that Hogwarts has ever seen.
All that is to say, Mary's the boring one at the moment.

Which, you know, that's fine, actually. Sometimes, it pays off to be the one that nothing is
happening to. To start, it gives her ample opportunity to observe, and what she has observed
so far on this very strange day is as follows:
One, Sirius has come barreling through the common room like his trousers are on fire, which
doesn't necessarily mean much, because—well, he's Sirius.

Two, following that, James also comes stomping through the common room, and this does
mean something, because he does not look pleased as he goes. James, being James, rarely
ever looks agitated like this; Mary has seen him more stressed and angry this week alone than
she has in the seven years she's known him altogether, and isn't that odd? The thought wisps
around in her head, but she isn't entirely sure what to do with it. Is being too happy and
cheerful a problem, or is Mary just being too nosy again? Hm. She'll leave it alone, because
maybe it's just the impact of nearly losing his boyfriend that's made such a stark difference in
him, as it would anyone.

Three, after James, there's Remus. He sort of shuffles through the common room with a
dejected slump to his shoulders that makes Mary want to go over and stand him up taller,
give him a hug, and tell him that he's too criminally fit to walk around like the world wouldn't
fall at his feet if only he'd ask.

At this, Mary glances across the common room to meet Lily's gaze. She's tutoring Jillian,
who absolutely idolizes her, much the same way Lily used to idolize Alice—and still would,
if Alice were here. Lily follows Mary's gaze when she flicks it towards Remus' sad little
puttering towards the entrance, and Lily's eyebrows tug together as her lips tip down. She
meets Mary's gaze and gives a tiny shrug, visibly concerned.

The fourth thing that happens is a vast improvement to all the things proceeding it. Mere
moments later, Remus is coming right back into the common room, no longer dejected but
walking tall with purpose in his stride as he leads Sirius in by his hand. This early, the
common room is fairly empty, so there's not really anyone around to see them holding hands,
as well as the sickeningly besotted look on Sirius' face. Remus proceeds to drag him right up
the stairs, and Sirius nearly trips over his own feet in his eagerness to go.

Fifth is Peter quickly coming down the stairs with flushed cheeks and a flustered air to him,
which is interesting, because it takes quite a bit to fluster Peter Pettigrew.

Mary can only break out into a grin, thinking with a rising sense of fondness, Sirius finally
figured it out. She does the mental equivalent of patting herself on the back for being
someone who helped Sirius on his journey of self-discovery, in which he thankfully,
painstakingly came to the conclusion that he, too, wants to shag Remus stupid, just like
everyone else.

Because it is a strange day, Mary's grin subsequently falls only a moment later when she
catches sight of Lily disappearing up the stairs. Mary blinks, glancing over at Jillian, who
looks rather abandoned and worried. Frowning, Mary hops to her feet and goes to find Lily.

She is not expecting to find Lily hiding in her bed behind closed bed-hangings, absolutely
sobbing her eyes out.

Well, fuck.

"Lily," Mary says gently, immediately inviting herself into the bed out of genuine concern.

"Oh, not you," Lily chokes out, and Mary would be offended by this, except Lily just starts
crying harder, so Mary sets aside her own feelings at the moment, because Lily is quite
clearly losing some internal battle with her own.

"Do you want me to go find Marlene?" Mary asks cautiously, leaning over on her hip,
propped up and ready to slide in from the edge of the bed the moment Lily will let her.

"No."

"Do you want me to go?"

"No."

"Do you want me to stay?"

"No."

"Right. So, to be clear, you don't want anyone else here, you don't want me here, and you also
don't want me to leave. Do I have this correct?"

Lily turns her face into her pillow, weeping, and she chokes out, "Yes."

"Of course. Got it," Mary says, nodding, and she reaches out to grab Lily's hand, threading
their fingers together, then doesn't say anything else for a long time.

Slowly, Mary sinks down on the other side of the bed, as far to the edge as she can get, and
she closes her eyes. Their fingers are tangled between the curve of their bodies, Lily clinging
to Mary like she might pull away without warning, but Mary would literally grow old right
here.

It takes a while for Lily's crying to soften, then eventually stop altogether. For a bit, the
sobbing is just genuinely so mournful that it feels like it wrenches at Mary's chest.
Nonetheless, it does inevitably come to an end, and Mary cracks open one eye to see that Lily
has resurfaced from her pillow. Her face is puffy and red from crying, and her eyes are still a
bit wet, a film of unshed tears glimmering over pretty green eyes.

"I'm so—I am so happy for them," Lily croaks, her chest stuttering on a shaky breath.

Mary tucks her lips in, then clears her throat. "Are you—did you just cry because Remus and
Sirius are finally shagging?"

"Don't laugh," Lily mutters, mere seconds before Mary releases a breathless laugh, stunned.
Lily's face scrunches, and she groans quietly. "It's not—oh, shut up, Mary."

"Sorry, sorry," Mary says softly, breaking their joined hands to reach up and tuck Lily's hair
behind her ear, gently thumbing away a few stray tears. "I didn't think it was the good kind of
crying, is all. I was worried."
Lily's eyes flutter shut. "It wasn't."

"Oh."

"I'm—I swear I'm happy for them. It's not—"

"Lily," Mary cuts in gently, "you don't have to feel—"

"I am happy for them," Lily insists fiercely, her eyes snapping open, and she reaches up to
latch onto Mary's wrist, tugging her hand away from her face. Mary takes the hint and starts
to withdraw her hand, but Lily chases after it, pressing into the open crevices between Mary's
fingers with her own. They both watch as their fingers interlock, then curl down to hold on;
brown against white, with freckles; Lily's clear nails, and Mary's that are painted a red so
dark they're almost as black as blood can get. Lily swallows. "I'm happy for them, Mary."

Mary nods carefully. "I believe you."

"I'm just—I'm really stressed right now, and I'm confused, and there's so much going on, and
I just want—" Lily cuts herself off, then heaves a deep sigh. "I want to go back to first year,
knowing what I know now, and do it all differently."

"We all want that," Mary assures her, and Lily slumps further into the bed like it's a relief to
hear it. "I promise you, there is not one person in this world who doesn't wish they could go
back and do everything over again."

Lily blinks and meets her gaze. "You, too?"

"Me too," Mary confirms.

"What would you change, if you could?" Lily whispers.

"A lot of things. I wouldn't have bothered having that crush on Thomas Gilloway in third
year, for one thing, because he turns out to be a complete prick. I would have cared more
about my O.W.L.s than I did. I would have been there for Marlene better than I was,
especially when it came to her being a lesbian," Mary confesses, her lips tipping down. "I
think I would have given Sirius a better nudge in Remus' direction while we were dating,
because he still took his time."

"You would—you'd still date him?" Lily rasps.

Mary shrugs one shoulder lazily. "I don't regret him, Lily."

"Right, and do you—" Lily stops, hesitates, then swallows harshly. "What would you change
with me?"

"Tricky question, that," Mary admits, chewing on the inside of her lip. Oh, this is a dangerous
game to play, and for all Mary's love for games, she does not want to play this one. She
doesn't know how to win. Are there things Mary would change? Yes, because she's not
always been the best friend to Lily. At the same time, Mary wouldn't want to change a damn
thing. She appreciates what they have far too much.

"Don't answer," Lily says softly. "I'd rather not know."

"Haven't I made mistakes with you?" Mary asks, a little desperate to save herself from this
one, trying to explain without having the words. "I'm not exactly going to win any awards for
the best friend a girl could ask for, am I?"

"No, maybe not, but I don't think I would either," Lily murmurs. "And still, I wouldn't change
anything."
"Nothing?" Mary asks, her heart fluttering and her stomach turning over. There's a lot of
memories between them, but it's the ones they don't talk about that comes to Mary's mind
now; the kisses, that blissful day in bed together.

Lily lifts her gaze and Mary knows that she's thinking of the same thing as she breathes out,
"Nothing at all."

Mary wavers for a long moment, because actually? Fuck her plan to flirt and wait. She's
going to snog Lily here and now and see what happens; it feels absolutely crucial that she
kisses Lily right now. She's propping up on her elbow to do just that when the door to the
dorm bangs open.

"Lily, Mary, are you in here?" Marlene calls.

"Ah, yeah, it's just me," Lily calls back, and she winces when her voice cracks slightly.

There's a pause, then Marlene says, "James is down in the common room, banging on about
some meeting you have with McGonagall that you both need to get to. He tried to come up,
but the stairs threw him down. I guess they don't much care that he has a boyfriend, so that's
good to know."

"Shit," Lily curses, snatching her hand from Mary's and sitting up quickly, only to jerk
around and stare at her, stricken. Mary's lips curl up before she tucks them in, and Lily's
entire face turns red. She blows out a deep breath and gives a weak, awkward wave before
practically diving out between the curtains, sounding breathless when she says, "Right, well,
I should get going, then. It's about the queer club."

"Good luck," Marlene tells her warmly.

"Cheers," Lily replies, her voice farther away, and then the door shuts again.
Mary is now trapped in Lily's bed, for some reason. She could technically climb out; it's not
as if Marlene would think much of it, right? Probably not, even though Mary and Lily haven't
shared a bed since… Well, anyway, it's been a while. But Lily has already stated that it's just
her, so now Mary feels obligated to hide. They haven't exactly told Marlene anything, as far
as Mary knows, but Mary is sure that they've both gone complaining to Marlene more than
enough times by now for her to be a little bit suspicious, at the very least.

Marlene isn't an idiot. Far from it, actually. Mary doesn't think she's met a more practical girl
than Marlene McKinnon. It's just that Mary doesn't really know what's going on between
herself and Lily at the moment, and she thinks trying to talk about it would make her head
explode. A part of her is afraid that she'll just get started and never stop, and then Marlene
will look at her and know that, for the first time in her life, she has no idea what the fuck is
going on.

"Mary," Marlene says casually.

"Yeah, Marlene?" Mary replies reflexively, then nearly smacks herself in the face. Well, what
the fuck? Brilliant, Macdonald. Wonderful job hiding, you've done.

Marlene coughs out a laugh. "I've booked the pitch to go flying if you want to come with me.
It's been a while since we've done that together, hasn't it?"

"Right, yeah," Mary says weakly, feeling oddly caught, even if nothing actually happened.
She pushes herself up and tries to gather her dignity, reminding herself that she has absolutely
no reason to be embarrassed. Besides, she actually enjoys flying. She doesn't like playing
Quidditch, even if she loves watching it, but flying is amazing to her. One of those things
about magic that makes her think of miracles, even to this day, though Lily wouldn't agree.
Head held high, Mary slips out of bed and fails to meet Marlene's eyes. "Let's go."

Marlene stifles laughter as she follows her out.

Hogwarts circa February, 1978

When Lily Evans was eleven years old—about three quarters of the way through her first
year at Hogwarts—she came to the simple and unshakable conclusion that she did, and would
always, hate James Potter. Most eleven year old girls wouldn't feel such a thing so fiercely,
but most eleven year old girls didn't have James Potter chasing after them like a constant,
unwanted shadow that they couldn't get rid of.

Lily was wrong, because here she is as eighteen years old, in her last year at Hogwarts, and
she doesn't hate James Potter at all. In a strange turn of events that she could have never
predicted, he's actually one of her closest friends. He's someone she genuinely takes comfort
from and feels inspired by and feels safe confiding in. If Lily Evans at eleven years old could
see her now, she would be absolutely shocked.

The thing is, there's a reason that it's him. There's a reason that it's James who gets through to
her when Remus and her own logic couldn't. Because it's James she was wrong about, and if
she could be wrong about never loving James Potter, then she can be wrong about Mary
never loving her.

At this point, it's long overdue. There's nowhere else to go until she moves past this, one way
or another. And it's terrifying, and it's world-altering, and it's risky—but, well, it's also
necessary. Lily can't keep doing this, not knowing where she stands, on edge over every little
thing, every feeling and thought and touch. Something has to give, even if she has to be the
one to demand it.

So, Lily goes to handle it. Does she know precisely how she's going to do that? No. But,
nonetheless, she goes.

Mary is located in the dorm, which is really convenient. Marlene is out (no doubt making use
of the Head Girl dorm that Lily so graciously granted her and Dorcas, because she's
supportive like that), and this is also convenient. The moment Lily sweeps in, her stride full
of determination, Mary looks up and goes still. There must be something in Lily's expression
that gives her away, because Mary sits up and puts her book aside on her stand, eyes trained
right on her.

"I'm—" Lily halts, because this is so fucking difficult, but she refuses to back out now.
Huffing, she marches across the room and dumps herself on Mary's bed right across from her,
staring her down. "I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen."

"Alright," Mary agrees, blinking slowly.

Lily opens her mouth, then closes it. No sound comes out. Her heart is beating so hard that
it's almost painful. Christ, she's so scared that she's shaking. She's my best friend, what the
fuck am I doing? Lily thinks, and a beat later, the thought infuriates her. It's always the same
one. She's fucking tired of it.

Mary clears her throat. "You're not exactly saying any—"

"Shut up," Lily interrupts, invigorated and determined and recklessly brave. Her hands surge
up to catch Mary's face, and her mouth follows; immediately, her fear mingles with pure
relief, excitement, and elation the moment their lips meet.

It's not easy to get here, but once she's made it here, there's nowhere else Lily wants to be. It
feels like the hardest thing to do, just getting to this point, but then she's doing it, and it's
much harder to stop. There's something freeing about that, something comforting, because it
feels so right.

Mary rocks forward into the kiss rather than jerking away, and her hand cups the curve of
Lily's neck as she readily snogs her back, as if she wants it just as much. Lily keeps waiting
for it to feel like two best friends doing something they shouldn't, but it never does; it only
does when they're not doing it. So, the obvious solution here is just to do it all the time,
clearly. God, Lily is so fucking smart.

It's easy, easy, easy to sink forward, kissing Mary deeper, sweeter, as she pushes her back
down to the bed. A muffled groan escapes Mary's mouth, vibrating against Lily's lips, and
there's a breathless moment where they're frantic and rushing. Mary shifts quickly, squirming
to splay out on the bed, her knee bumping Lily's hip where she hovers between her legs, and
she starts tugging on the bottom of Lily's shirt with desperate fingers as Lily kisses her
harder.
When Mary actually succeeds in rucking Lily's shirt up just a bit, Lily somehow finds the
will to break away, chanting a rapid, "Wait, wait, wait."

"I—what?" Mary chokes out, blinking up at her, stunned. She has a dazed look on her face,
and her dark eyes glint like obsidian, impossible to make out the pupil at all. Her mouth is
hanging open, a hint of pink tongue past white teeth that nearly snaps Lily's restraint
altogether.

"I'm—I know we don't—" Lily releases a frustrated noise, because that's the problem, isn't it?
They don't talk about this. They don't acknowledge it. Lily exhales sharply through her nose.
"I'm not shagging you until we talk, Mary."

Mary's chest swells on a stuttered inhale, and she releases a startled laugh that sort of
wheezes out of her. "Well, fuck, Lily. Talk fast, would you?"

"Mary," Lily says firmly, squinting down at her.

"I—yeah, alright," Mary replies with a deep exhale, dropping her head back against the
pillow. "Just...can you not be in between my legs for this conversation? Because I don't think
I'll be able to focus if you're determined to have it from there."

"Oh, right, sorry," Lily mumbles, her face growing hot as she flings herself back, scooting
towards the end of the bed as she tugs her shirt down.

"I wasn't actually complaining," Mary mutters as she sits up and crosses her legs, tangling her
fingers together in her lap. She blinks and looks right at her. "Just a reminder, you kissed me,
Lily, after saying we had to talk, so…"

"I know," Lily snaps, flustered in a heartbeat.

"Also wasn't a complaint," Mary says, her face softening. A tiny smile plays with the corner
of her mouth, and she holds Lily's gaze boldly. "What would you like to discuss?"
After a long moment of silence, she blurts out, "Who kissed who? The first time. Was it me
or you?"

"You don't know?" Mary asks, eyebrows rising.

"It was me, wasn't it?" Lily murmurs, resigned to it already. It's a fear that's been living in her
mind since the very first kiss, just the thought that she did this, she put their friendship in
jeopardy, and all the trouble they've had since was her fault.

Mary tilts her head a little bit and says, "It was me."

"What?" Lily breathes out.

"I kissed you," Mary reiterates slowly. "Well, I leaned in first, and you met me halfway, so I'd
say it was mutual, really. But it was me who...went for it. Did you not know this whole
time?"

"No," Lily admits. "Why did you...go for it?"

"Why did you meet me halfway?" Mary shoots back.

Lily makes a sort of huffy noise, frustrated in more ways than one at this point, and Mary
breaks out into a grin. "Oh, stop that, Mary. Just—fucking talk to me. What the fuck are we
doing? What does it mean, any of it? Are we friends? Are we something else? Do you want
—what do you want?"

"Well, at the moment, I'd like to be shagging," Mary informs her bluntly, her smile growing
sharper, more tempting.
"There will be no shagging until we figure this out," Lily declares, putting her foot down. No,
literally, she drops her leg off the side of the bed and puts her foot down.

Mary's face softens again. "Alright, that's fair."

"So—talk," Lily instructs, because Mary handles things, and Lily is failing miserably at it.

"You're one of my best friends," Mary states, like it's a fact.

Lily swallows. "Best friends don't shag."

"I don't know," Mary muses, raising her eyebrows and tipping her head to the side, "we
already have once, and it's clear that Remus and Sirius do, so maybe it's not unheard of."

"Remus and Sirius aren't just best friends," Lily points out, her heart racing. "They're in
love."

"Yes, they are," Mary agrees, just gazing at her.

"Mary, please, you have to give me something here," Lily whispers, anxiously twisting her
fingers together.

"I could say the same to you," Mary murmurs, scanning her face like she's studying her, like
she's trying to pick her apart and find out what's waiting underneath. It's at this moment that
Lily realizes Mary, who knows so much of everything about everyone, who knows Lily better
than anyone, doesn't know this. It feels like a revelation, and it sends Lily reeling in pure
surprise. "I'd give you anything, Lily, if only I knew exactly what it is that you want. The
only thing I know for sure that's safe for you, for us, is that we're best friends."

"Do you—want to be best friends?" Lily rasps.

Mary's face does something strange. "I won't stand for anything less. You're always going to
be my best friend. That can't change. I can't lose that."

"Oh," Lily says, feeling her heart sink, and she blinks hard to try and fight the way her eyes
sting. She nods stiffly and looks away. "Right. No, that's—that makes sense. I—yeah, I—"

"Hey," Mary murmurs gently, leaning forward to reach out and cover Lily's restless hands. It
takes a lot, but Lily manages to meet her gaze, and she smiles softly. "Do you know that my
mother says that my father is her best friend, and there's nothing better in this world than
marrying your best friend?"

Lily's heart soars right back up, and yet, all she can think to say is, "We can't get married."

"Shut up, Lily," Mary tells her, lips twitching. "We can do anything we like. Macdonald-
Evans has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Well, that's a little sudden," Lily mutters, and Mary cackles, squeezing Lily's hands as she
tosses her head back and laughs loud and proud. Lily can't help but chuckle with her, feeling
tension seep out of her in one fell swoop. "I mean, you could at least ask me on a date first,
Mary, fucking hell."

Mary hums, her eyes bright as she rolls her head forward, eyebrows raised. "Is that what you
want, then? You want to date me, Lily?"

"Do you want to?"

"We can't keep going in circles like this."

"No, we can't, so answer my question," Lily says.

"Honestly, I'd love to," Mary muses, a little sheepish. "I was mostly trying to work out how
we could continue shagging, so I was going to suggest that we just be best friends who shag
all the time, but that was just because I wasn't aware dating was an option."

Lily blinks, her eyebrows furrowing. "You've dated before?"

"Right, but Sirius was happy to date me," Mary explains, not even batting an eye. "I didn't
think you'd want to."

"You—what? Mary, why not?" Lily blurts out, startled.

Mary frowns at her. "Because you're you, and I'm me?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're—Lily, you're the best person I know. What the fuck would you want to do with me?
I'm lucky enough to have you as my best friend as it is."

"I—hold on, no, this is—Christ, Mary, no," Lily says in a devastated rush, stumbling over her
words in the haste to get them out. Her heart is clenching violently in her chest, and she
quickly flips her hands over to cup Mary's hand in between her palms. "Are you joking?
Fuck, I hope you're joking. That's just ridiculous. Why would you even think that?"

"Because you see me," Mary whispers. "You really see me, Lily, more clearly than anyone
else."

"Yes, and I love everything I see," Lily tells her forcefully, more earnest than she's ever been.
"I always have, don't you know that? You're brilliant, you're brave, you're beautiful. No one
makes me laugh the way you do, and there's no one who comforts me like you can, just by
being close to me. Mary, why wouldn't I want you? Do you know how long I've been pining
after you like a lovesick idiot? Me, Mary. Pining."
"Oh," Mary says, and then her face crumbles as she abruptly starts crying, her head ducked as
her shoulders wrench up.

Lily has never seen Mary cry. Lily doesn't think anyone has ever seen Mary cry. It's honestly
one of the most tragic and harrowing things that Lily has ever witnessed, sincerely heart-
rending in every way. Lily's breath punches out of her in something so close to a whine,
because it's genuinely that painful, and she scoots forward to fold Mary into her arms.

Mary wraps her arms around her and buries her face into her hair, simply crying. Lily strokes
her hair, her back, and holds on. Mary cries like a little child, like there's a little girl in her
somewhere, small and whimpering. She clings, too, gripping Lily so tight that it's almost
uncomfortable, but Lily would let Mary crack her in half if that's what she needed.

It takes a bit for Mary to calm down, like she has a lot she needs to let out, and Lily gives her
the space and freedom to do so, within the safety of her arms. But, eventually, Mary's tears
ease, and she settles down. Her grip on Lily loosens, but she doesn't let go or pull away.

However, Mary does lift her head with a sniffle, look at Lily with teary eyes, and ask, "Can
we shag now?"

Lily huffs out a weak laugh and reaches up to swipe Mary's tears gently away. "Yeah, Mary,
we can shag now."

But they don't. Instead, they curl up on Mary's bed together, and Lily kisses her gently,
sweetly, and that's all they do. They lie there, genuinely just snuggling and trading kisses like
they have all the time in the world, like they can do this forever, and who says they can't?
They can do anything they like.

Hogwarts circa March, 1978

Mary couldn't tell you the exact moment that she fell in love with her best friend. Maybe it
was the moment Lily grabbed her hand and squeezed it in elation in first year, right after
Mary was sorted, when she found out that Mary was a muggle-born like her; maybe it was
the moment they had their first kiss, and Mary learned the true meaning of magic.

She doesn't really know when that line between loving a friend and falling in love with them
blurred. For a while, it's hard for her to know the difference, because she's adored Lily for so
long that it's difficult to make the shape of such a thing out, to see it for what exactly it is.

They're a perfect blend of awkward and comfortable at the start, when they agree to date.
Mary worries a lot that she's not being 'girlfriend' enough, and Lily instinctively holds things
back, just because it's a habit by now. They figure it out, though. Slowly and without the
prying eyes of everyone else, they learn how to balance who they are together with what it is
they want from one another.

And Mary can't say the exact moment she fell in love with her best friend, but she will never
forget the exact moment that she realizes it. You'd think that offering to marry Lily before
they even confessed their feelings would have been a clue, but shockingly, that slipped right
over her head. She adores Lily; she'd do anything with and for Lily, happily. That doesn't
mean she knows what love is, really, no more than she knew magic before she was informed
she was a witch.

But, the thing is, Mary could do strange things, magical things, before she ever learned the
reason for it. Much the same, she's known love, this love, before she ever realized it.

Lily laughs. Mary makes her laugh, and that's all. Lily is there, round cheeks flush with
delight, emerald eyes warm and bright, and that's all. Mary wants to kiss her, and wants to
make her laugh again, and wants to do that every day, and that's all. Mary looks at her, and
she feels it, that love she's known for so long, breathing it in and out, and that's all. Just that,
that is all, and that's what it takes.

And there, right there in the midst of the hustle and bustle of queer club, Mary says it. "I love
you."

"I love you, too," Lily replies with a warm smile, reflexive like a friend would, because it's
not the first time they've said it.
"No, Lily," Mary corrects, "I mean, I'm in love with you. I love you as my best friend, and I'm
in love with you."

Lily stops and stares at her. "Oh."

"Just—I want you to know how I mean it," Mary explains, huffing out a stunned laugh.
"Because I love you, yes, but when I say that, what I really mean is—"

"You're in love with me," Lily breathes out.

Mary nods, smiling. "Yeah, that. I am. I think—you know, honestly, I think I have been for a
long time, but the important thing is that I know it now."

"You know," Lily repeats, stepping closer to her, eyes wide with wonder. "How do you
know?"

"I can feel it," Mary admits, and she's not sure how else to explain it. "Feels like magic."

Lily inhales sharply, her eyes widening, and then she's snapping her hand out to grab Mary's
wrist. "Can we kiss here? I know we said we'd take it slow, but—"

"We can do anything we like," Mary murmurs, swaying forward, and Lily exhales in relief.
She's kissing her in the next moment, and Mary sinks into it with a sigh.

"Oh, I love you, too. I really do. Just like that, like magic," Lily chants in between kisses,
trying to speak and meld their mouths together at the same time. Mary can hear the happiness
in her voice. "I'm in love with you, Mary."
 Mary makes a simple, uncomplicated noise of pure delight, kissing Lily again, deep and slow
and with triumph. When they break apart, Lily presses her smile against her cheek, and Mary
closes her eyes, basking in being in love with her best friend, her girlfriend, and someday, if
she has anything to say about it, her wife. She doesn't doubt it for a second, not even one,
because she already knows.

And she's never wrong, is she?

Chapter End Notes

i love mary and lily very much, if you couldn't tell.

right, so let's get into it. this was a bit cathartic for me, personally, as someone who has
fallen in love with a best friend and dealt with the struggles that can come from
something like that. the awkwardness, the uncertainty, the helpless feelings you can't
fight but try to fight anyway, the worry that you'll lose your best friend etc. for me,
personally, it didn't end as well as it did for mary and lily, but that's alright. life goes on,
and at least i got to give them their happy ending.

a few honorable mentions:

mary and sirius being buddies just figuring things out together. trust mary to figure out
sirius' mess before her own. not her getting sirius worked up by talking about how hot
remus is 😭😭😭 lmao poor sirius was STRUGGLING

lily being observant enough to know that remus is a werewolf and just kindly not
mentioning it, but not noticing that remus fancies sirius. we LOVE the duality. also just
lily and remus' friendship>>>

💀
mary being a jealous little shit, even WORSE than james. i love them all so much. robert
didn't even do anything WRONG

lily fighting the gifted kid burn out struggle to the point that she was legitimately
breaking down all the time. ive been there. that shit is STRESSFUL.

marlene being a good best friend who is also tired of lily and mary's shit.

peter!!! "lads, crack out the firewhiskey; the girls are here, and we're about to mend our
insides" i love him so very much

i loved getting to write this chapter and explore marylily, so i hope you all enjoyed it as
well!

thank you all for the comments and support!

 ACT SIX: Part Three
Chapter Notes

okay, wolfstar chapter! the warnings for this chapter are as follows:

references to walburga and orion's abuse to sirius (and regulus), but nothing explicit.
very brief remus/original male character (yes, the nice gardener, and it's nothing explicit,
i promise). a slightly more in-depth description of james beating mulciber (it's brief, but
it is a depiction of violence). references to regulus drowning, and the aftermath of it.
there's some brother bonding, angst, fighting, bickering, and jealousy. sirius briefly gets
angry about the fact that remus kept the nice gardener a secret, then later acknowledges
that remus had every right to. there's some heated snogging and implied shagging, but
nothing explicit.

so, with that, enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Potter home circa July, 1977

It takes a while after Regulus' impromptu arrival for Sirius to feel like they're going to be
okay. Maybe for some, this would seem dramatic, but for them, Sirius feels it's a minor
miracle that he thinks they're going to be okay at all.

The problem is, Sirius is put in a difficult position. He's spent the last years of his life
growing quite a bit of resentment towards his family, including Regulus, with the only
exceptions being Andromeda and their uncle Alphard. Regulus was by no means treated
unfairly by being included in this resentment, seeing as he did every little thing their parents
wanted without complaint, the perfect son that Sirius could never be, and he was never quiet
about his own resentment towards Sirius for who he was and how he acted. It's always been
more than just a difference of opinion; it's something else, something greater, something
unspoken that burns between them.

For Sirius, he would say his resentment started after Regulus' did, after Regulus got into
Slytherin and started acting more and more like everything Sirius already despised. It started
after Regulus never defended him to their parents, no matter how many times Sirius defended
him. It started after Regulus wouldn't even come to him in private to support him, but made it
very clear that he didn't support him at all. It started because they used to be young and
happy, and then Sirius looked up one day to find that they no longer were, and Regulus was
just as much to blame for what went wrong between them as he was.

Now, his little brother is in front of him, needing him, and all Sirius wants to do is be there
for him like they're those happy children again, even though they're not. It's a bit of a
conundrum, honestly, because Sirius wasn't even aware that he could still feel like this, and
that's a scary thing, isn't it? Going on believing you feel one way for someone, only to find
out that deep down in a place you never knew existed, you feel something you convinced
yourself you didn't. Regulus crumbled at his feet, and Sirius immediately wanted to help him
stand back up, no matter how long he spent thinking he would relish in the sight of Regulus
broken before him.

It's just—that's his little brother. What is he going to do? Turn him away? He already left, and
he didn't even look back, and he refuses to apologize for it. Leaving was the best thing for
him, and sure, he thought about Regulus, about how he was doing, if he was okay—but it just
seemed like Regulus was content where he was at, happy to be there, not eager to get out the
same way Sirius was. That's what he led Sirius to believe, and he was right there with their
parents, happy to see him go. But this is—well, this is different.

Maybe Sirius had it wrong, and the thought kills him. The mere thought that any part of
Regulus may have wanted him to stay, or possibly even come with him, makes Sirius want to
rewind time and at least offer. He never even offered, but the thing is, he knew Regulus
wouldn't go. Regulus knew he wouldn't go, and he's said as much. So, really, Sirius is fretting
over nothing. He does that a lot.

Regulus wouldn't have gone, but he didn't get a choice, and the first person he thought to
come to was Sirius. His brother. Of everyone in this world, it's Sirius that he has run to, and
Sirius can barely handle how fucking good that makes him feel. He probably shouldn't be so
delighted by the fact that his brother has been kicked out of home just for who he is, but
Sirius can't help it. He can't help but feel warmed by the fact that Regulus knows he can
come to him, because Sirius isn't like the rest of their family, because somewhere deep down,
Sirius is the person he knows will do the right thing.

It's the first time Sirius feels genuinely proud of himself, of the person he is, of the way he's
presented himself without shame. He's never felt anything like this before, and it's—it's really
good, actually. His pride is usually for show, but this? This is real, and it's earned. He's
capable of being a good person, and knowing that is a relief he didn't even know he needed.
His parents aren't good people. No surprise there. As far as he's concerned, they can fucking
rot, not only for what they've done to him, but also for what they've done to Regulus now,
too. Sirius honestly hasn't ever seen Regulus like this before.

He doesn't think anyone has ever seen Regulus like this before.

Regulus is… Well, Sirius doesn't have any other word for it. He's depressed. Just—genuinely
depressed. A shell wearing Regulus' skin, barely a wisp, empty in a way that's chilling. He's
so unenthused with life, out of touch with happiness, apathetic and exhausted with
everything. The only thing that seems to get a spark out of him right now is Sirius.

Honestly, Sirius is worried. He wasn't aware that he could be worried for Regulus anymore,
but he's learning a lot about his relationship with his brother as of late. The problem is, he
doesn't really know what to do.

He keeps trying, though.

"What's that?" Sirius asks as he dumps himself on the end of Regulus' bed. Regulus is sitting
up with his legs folded, a book open in his lap, gaze empty in that worrying way of his.

"My Life as a Squib by Angus Buchanan," Regulus murmurs, lifting his gaze from the page.
"Effie suggested I read it."

"Oh. That's...nice," Sirius says slowly, his brain throwing around a bunch of question marks.
Their parents would absolutely riot if they knew Regulus was reading something positive
about squibs, especially written by a squib.

Regulus sighs wearily. "I know what you're thinking. Mother and Father would never allow
it. I said the same thing, so Effie sort of...insisted I read it. I think she's trying to show me
what freedom I have here, and also combat all the things our family has taught us—or me,
really. You never believed it anyway."
Sirius purses his lips, trying to figure out how to delicately handle this topic. He's not really
delicate with anything, but lately—with Regulus—he's been trying to be. Of course, Effie and
Monty immediately agreed to take Regulus in, even before Sirius told them he would be
leaving if they didn't let him stay, and they made it quite clear that Regulus and Sirius both
have a home with them for as long as they need.

It wasn't the first few days, when things were still very tense and awful, but Effie and Monty
also made it clear what they wouldn't tolerate in their house, which basically amounted to the
awful shit Regulus had shoved in his head since birth, and Sirius as well, before he left,
except Sirius rebelled against it while Regulus didn't. They would turn no child away, but
they would teach any child in their home to be a decent person, as best they could. Regulus
has been surprisingly open to the change, willing to read anything they put in his hands,
willing to listen when they tell him that what he's been taught is wrong, willing to shed the
same beliefs that hurt him in the end, too. Sirius gets why. The pressure of Toujours Pur can
be so heavy that it crushes you. Regulus knows that now.

"Well, are you enjoying it?" Sirius asks, finally.

"It's—well, actually, yeah," Regulus admits, vaguely startled as he blinks down at the book.
"Angus is a famous rugby player. That's a muggle sport, sort of like Quidditch, except
without all the flying. He talks a lot about how it feels to be adored in the muggle world, but
treated meaningless in the wizarding world, the one he comes from. It's...actually a really
good piece of literature, if I'm honest."

"Just think, if you hadn't ended up here, you would have never gotten to read this very good
book," Sirius says, clicking his teeth and snapping his fingers before pointing at Regulus.

"Yay," Regulus says flatly, and Sirius drops his hands. Regulus sighs and grimaces. "No
offense to Angus Buchanan, but I'm not sure if everyone knowing my preference for cock
was worth the chance to read his story. Somehow, I don't think he would be offended. I think
he would understand."

Sirius snorts, then feels bad for it. "Sorry. That's not funny."

"It was a little funny," Regulus counters.

"Yeah, alright, just a bit," Sirius agrees sheepishly. "I suppose I'm just trying to...help you
look on the bright side. I mean, it's honestly not usually my thing to be optimistic; James is so
much better at it than I am, but you are so much worse, Reggie. You're a dour, miserable little
shit, did you know that?"

"Look at my life, Sirius. Don't I have a reason to be?"

"Well, you didn't have Angus before, and that's something."

"You're so good at this. You're doing so well," Regulus says sarcastically, giving a fake smile
that causes his eyes to squint as he lifts both hands in two thumbs-up.

"Oi, I am trying, you ungrateful git," Sirius mutters, reaching out to shove his leg, which
causes Regulus to immediately kick out with his foot to jab Sirius in his side. Sirius instantly
grabs his ankle and squeezes hard enough for Regulus to yelp and raise his other foot to start
repeatedly kicking Sirius on the arm until he relents and lets go. They both come to a shaky,
unspoken truce for the moment, squinting at each other suspiciously, but ultimately removing
their limbs from the conversation for the betterment of them both.

"I know you're trying," Regulus replies with a huff, frowning down at his book. "I'm just—I
don't know."

"You always say that," Sirius says softly. "You don't have to pretend like you're not upset,
Regulus. Don't you think I get it? I was rejected by the family first."

Regulus releases a bitter laugh, tilting his head back as his eyes drift shut. "Lovely. I'm
second to you even in my fucking misery. That's just so...not shocking at all. I'm used to it."

"Oh, sod it, that's not what I meant," Sirius mutters, trying to hide the way he grimaces when
Regulus' eyes snap open and land on him. "I'm not saying—I'm only saying you don't have
to feel like I won't understand anything you tell me. You don't have to feel like there's
anything you can't say, do you know what I mean? I'm—you know, here. For you.
Or...whatever."

"That was...truly awful," Regulus says.

Sirius groans, then chuckles. "Gods, it was, wasn't it?"

"Absolutely the most embarrassing thing you've ever done."

"I'll never live down the shame."

"I'm afraid not, no."

"This is not my area of expertise, I've come to find out. Being reassuring and comforting—to
you, specifically. But this is… I mean, it's a really difficult situation, honestly."

Regulus presses his lips into a thin line. "Yes, I'm aware." He's quiet for a long moment, then
he looks at Sirius—and he looks like he's ten years old again, begging Sirius to let him come
to Hogwarts with him, and the worst part is, Sirius had tried to sneak him into his trunk
before their mother found him and punished them both. "Sirius, do I have to—defy the
rumors?"

"What?" Sirius blinks. "Defy the—do you mean...fight them?"

"Yes," Regulus says stiffly.

"You...can," Sirius replies, taking his response with care. He can tell it's important that he
gets this right. "You also don't have to. This is—it isn't fair how this got out, yeah? However
you want to handle it, I'll support it either way."
"This." Regulus narrows his eyes at him slightly. There's a bitter edge to his tone when he
speaks next. "You can say it, Sirius. Gay. Homosexual. Queer. There's no use in pretending
I'm not now, is there?"

Sirius has absolutely no idea what to do in this situation, if he's honest. Regulus is volatile at
the best of times, and when it comes to him fancying blokes, he swings wildly between dry
sarcasm with a dash of resigned apathy and snarling fury that's borderline defensive with
some contradicting self-hatred peppered in throughout. It's all really quite dramatic, frankly,
but Sirius gets why, and he also has no room to judge anyone for being dramatic. While
Sirius may have rejected everything their family taught them and knew it was all stupid and
wrong, Regulus is still learning to. It's not an easy process for him the way it was for Sirius.

"I'm not pretending you're not gay," Sirius settles on, eventually, because he's not. It had
admittedly startled him when he found out, he won't lie, but he's not acting as if it's not true
just because he didn't see it coming. So his little brother is gay. So what? Does Sirius hate
that it's about to make Regulus' life a living Hell? Yes, but does Sirius have a problem with
it? No, and why should he?

"Well, I wouldn't blame you if you did," Regulus mutters sardonically. "After all, I pretended
I wasn't."

Sirius is startled by this. "You knew before Mother drugged you?"

"Yes," Regulus says simply. "It wasn't new information the veritaserum granted me, Sirius."

"Oh." Sirius blinks rapidly. "Right. So, if you knew, why did you pretend you weren't?"

Regulus stares at him incredulously. "You're asking why I pretended I wasn't gay? Me.
Regulus Black, in the ancient and noble house of Black, alone, in Slytherin, surrounded by
bigots quite literally from all sides. Really?"

"I—well, alright, I see what you mean," Sirius admits with some chagrin. He pauses, then
purses his lips. "I don't know. I just thought you didn't know, because you were—" He halts,
then meets Regulus' gaze and presses on. "Reggie, you were a bigot, too. You were just like
them."

"I know," Regulus says softly.

Sirius presses his lips into a thin line. "I just don't understand, I suppose. If you knew, why
would you still—"

"Because not everyone is you, Sirius. Not everyone can be like you. Not everyone is brave
the way you are, and some of us are fucking scared, alright?" Regulus snaps.

"You could have come to me," Sirius whispers. "You could have, and I would have been
brave for you. I would have protected you. You could have come to me, Regulus."

"I did," Regulus croaks, raising a hand to gesture around, then letting it drop back to his book
like he's so, so tired. He looks at Sirius with that concerning emptiness. "I'm here, Sirius."

"You didn't choose to be," Sirius murmurs.

"No, I didn't," Regulus agrees, sounding worn out. He releases a world-weary sigh. "I
suppose that's not enough for you, is it? Well, I'm sorry, but it has to be, because that's all I've
got. I'm not asking you to be brave for me, or protect me. Just let me be here. Can't that be
enough?"

"Yes, it's enough," Sirius says quietly, his heart clenching in his chest. It has to be enough,
and in some ways, it's not, but in most ways, it's more than enough. It's more than Sirius ever
expected to have. "Do you regret it?"

Regulus stares at him for a long time in silence, and Sirius can't tell if he's lying or telling the
truth when he says, "No."
"You really don't?" Sirius asks.

"How can I?" Regulus huffs out a weak laugh and lazily holds up his book. "I have Angus
now, don't I?"

Sirius stares at him, his face twitching, and then he busts out laughing pretty much against his
will. It draws a tiny smile out of Regulus, despite everything, and that's enough, too. Sirius
has no idea what he's doing, but he keeps trying anyway.

Lupin home circa August, 1977

"You know," Remus mutters, "you're never going to finish taming the meadow at this rate."

Levi chuckles and sits up to feel around for his shirt on the end of the blanket they have
spread out in the aforementioned meadow. Remus watches him pull it on with faint interest,
but he's sated now, relaxed as the bugs buzz all around them, the smell of flowers and weeds
thick in the air. It's a lovely little spot for a summertime romance, honestly. Remus is learning
to appreciate the nice things in life when they just so happen to come to him, rare as they are.

Levi is one of those nice things, as fleeting as he may be. He's taught Remus quite a bit over
the last month and a half, so much in fact that he's actually a bit regretful of how quickly
September is approaching. At nineteen—nearly twenty—Levi is only two years older than
Remus, but at times, it seems like he knows so much more than Remus will ever be able to
learn.

For one thing, Levi knew Remus was interested in him before Remus knew. Well, actually,
Levi knew Remus was interested in shagging him before Remus knew. Sadly, Remus has not
gone off and fallen in love with a muggle like his father before him, but that would make his
life much simpler, wouldn't it? Much simpler than being in love with his best friend, but the
best thing about being with Levi is that Remus doesn't have to think about that whole mess.
"Oh, I have loads of time," Levi says, turning to grin at Remus over his shoulder. He has a
bright, charming grin. Remus may have a type. "I'll get paid the last half when I'm finished,
but there's no deadline as long as it's before February, when the family that owns it starts
setting up for the wedding."

"Utterly oblivious to the fact that they'll be dancing in the same spot their gardener was
shagging their neighbor," Remus replies, amused and delighted by the mischief of such a
thing.

"All land has history, Remus," Levi tells him. "Now this land has ours. We'll always exist
here, even when we're gone."

Remus hums. "I'm glad for it, then. Do you reckon you'll be finished by the end of
December?"

"Yes, I will be," Levi admits, sounding certain. He eyes Remus curiously. "That's when you'll
have a break for your boarding school, yeah?"

"Yeah," Remus says.

Levi sighs. "Shame. I would have liked to see you again."

"Come visit," Remus suggests, raising his eyebrows.

"You can't possibly expect things to be the same in four months, Remus," Levi murmurs with
a small smile. "I'd hate to show up and you be with whatever bloke has your heart."

Remus' face twitches. Shit. He never so much as mentioned Sirius to Levi. He sits up with a
sigh. "Am I that obvious?"
"Oh, don't get upset," Levi mutters with a snort. "I'm just observant. You have to be when
you're a gardener, believe it or not. You can listen to people the same way you listen to land,
if you know how, and you have a history with someone that no one else can compete with.
Seems complicated, though, so I just assumed it was a boy."

"He's my friend," Remus confesses. He huffs out a laugh and reaches around to squeeze the
back of his neck. "One of my best friends, actually. He's not—he doesn't feel the same."

"Ah, so he's a fool, then," Levi says decisively, nodding, and Remus rolls his eyes. "Well, you
know, you could be wrong."

"I'm not," Remus declares simply, because he's not.

Levi shakes his head. "That's a shame, too. The fool is missing out, honestly."

"Well, you're biased," Remus points out, and Levi laughs, not denying it. He has a loud,
boisterous laugh. Christ, Remus really does have a type. "So, you'll come visit?"

"I'm usually busy around Christmas," Levi says slowly, "but I'll think about making an
exception for you."

Remus nods. "Don't go out of your way, if you can't, but… Well, it'd be nice to see you again,
is all."

"You just want to shag me again."

"That, too."

"My god, that friend of yours is really a fool," Levi breathes out, twisting towards him to
reach out and drag him into a kiss, holding Remus by the back of his neck.
It's not long before they're sinking back down to the blanket, lost in each other, and Remus
doesn't have to think about how the only one who's a fool is him. For Sirius, he always has
been. Getting to be with Levi makes him feel like less of one.

Levi is nice enough to let him.

Later, Levi really does have to get back to work, and Remus knows it's only a matter of time
before his mum will be finished with supper, and he doesn't want to make her wait. She will,
is the thing. She'll refrain from eating until he gets back, or she'll send his dad to come shout
for him.

Hope and Lyall both glance up when Remus comes inside, sweaty and flushed from the heat,
the book he takes with him to read against his favorite tree—until Levi comes to drag him
away—tucked under his arm. The smell of soup is thick and heavy through the house,
making him inhale deep as tension seeps from his shoulders automatically. No one makes
soup like Hope Lupin, and Lyall would say the same.

"Good day with that nice gardener?" Hope asks as she smiles at him from their small
kitchen.

"Yeah, brilliant," Remus murmurs.

Lyall purses his lips slightly, then says, "How much more could the boy have to teach you
about tending to land?"

"Well, there's a lot more involved than you'd think," Remus replies mildly. "I learned what
edging was today."

"Yeah?" Lyall nods in approval. "It's a good skill to have."

"Truly," Remus agrees, tucking his lips in to keep his face from reflexively twitching the way
it's desperately trying to.

"We should have edged our lawn," Lyall grumbles. "Looks right awful where it's growing
over the pavement out front."

Remus hums. "Well, it's never too late, Dad."

"That sounds like you're excited to put all your new skills to work," Lyall suggests hopefully.

"Oh, I don't have nearly enough practice," Remus says.

Lyall clicks his tongue. "Well, you keep practicing until you're the best at it, yeah?"

"I intend to," Remus tells him, keeping a straight face.

"Remus, love, you have a letter here from Sirius, by the way. It came in when you were
outside," Hope announces, and Remus' head snaps up.

"Thanks, Mum," Remus says quickly, moving forward to grab the letter and head towards his
room.

Hope huffs. "Fifteen minutes, Remus John Lupin! You have fifteen minutes before supper is
ready. I want you here then, or I'm sending your father in to drag you out by your ear."

"I'll do no such thing, Hope," Lyall mutters. "He's seventeen, for Merlin's sake. A grown man.
Let him be, would you?"
"A grown man still in school and living under our roof, Lyall, so if I say you'll drag him out
by his ear, you'll damn well drag him out by his ear," Hope says, no-nonsense.

Lyall sighs. "Yes, dear. Remus, son, fifteen minutes."

"Sure, sure, of course," Remus says, stifling a laugh at their antics and hiding a smile as he
slips off to his room. He shuts the door on their playful bickering, love threaded throughout.

When Remus gets into his room, he throws himself down on his bed, then almost
immediately regrets the careless motion. He winces at the way his body protests it in multiple
different places—his hips, his shoulders, and pretty much everything in between. His body
doesn't fail to remind him he's never too far away from pain, no matter which side of the full
moon he's on.

He huffs out a sharp, strained breath, easing his body to the side until he's more comfortable.
It takes a moment, but he thankfully settles, the spike of pain turning to the more familiar low
buzz he's accustomed to. His normal, really. He prefers to ignore it, and he has just the thing
to distract him from it now. Sirius' letter. Remus opens it gingerly.

Moony,

I'm honestly disturbed by how vague you're being about whatever has kept you away all
summer. I know it's not you wanting to keep your mother company with your father working
so much, because you said he's taken a week off, so what is it?

You've gone and done it, haven't you? You've joined a cult. That's the only explanation.
Remus, listen to me, whatever they're telling you, it isn't true. There are no green people
living in the stars, mate. That's madness, and that's coming from me!

If it's not a cult, then maybe it's something illegal? Remus, are you running a secret muggle
drug empire? You know, if I'm honest, that would actually be cool, but what if you end up in
prison? Well, obviously I'll break you out, along with James and Peter, so you know what?
Carry on.
Or maybe you've been taken hostage, and they're forcing you to come up with weak excuses
for why you haven't visited at all, and this is you trying to signal us to come save you.
Honestly, Moony, you could have been a bit more clear on that, maybe said something that let
me know you were in duress. Something like, "I hate books, and jumpers are the worst thing
in the world." I would have known, then. Nevertheless, if you are in danger, I will come to
your rescue if you'll give me the proper sign.

Whatever your reasons for not visiting, I admit I despise them. It's like last summer all over
again, but I knew the reasons then, at least. Is it still If you're still I'm really sor It's just
bothering me, not knowing if you're alright, I suppose. You're so annoyingly vague about
everything, it drives me spare.

As for my summer, it's much the same as I told you in my last letter. Peter's still traveling, so
James and I are missing him, just the same as you. Regulus is doing better. I'm both looking
forward to going back to Hogwarts and also not at all, which is new for me. I'm usually
always excited to get back. It'll be a good year for us, don't you think? It's our last. We'll
make it good, won't we, Moony?

I miss If you're angry with If I did someth I'm so

I suppose I'll see you on the train!

Yours,

Padfoot

Remus folds up the letter after staring at Yours, Padfoot for too long, just as he usually does.
That's how Sirius signs off all his letters, and not just to Remus, but also James and Peter. It
doesn't mean anything, and yet it gets Remus every fucking time. He can't help it. He can't
stop his brain from fixating on it, because his brain is a bit stupid sometimes, and it seems to
have this silly notion that Sirius does things to and for him that means something different
when he does them to and for anyone else. His brain is also a prick, because it's also just as
quick to remind him, you're not special, you idiot; far from it, actually, so you're just being
stupid.
Yes, well, Remus is very aware that he's being stupid about Sirius. He always is. He always
has been, so this isn't really a new thing, honestly. At this point, he's used to it.

Sometimes it's just best to let his mind do what it wants to do, and sometimes it's really nice
getting to be a little bit silly and hopeless about something that can't and won't ever actually
go anywhere. So, Remus lets it happen.

He lets his lips curl up as he thinks about how Sirius is clearly thinking about him, wondering
what he's doing, displeased that he hasn't visited. He lets a slightly ridiculous huff of laughter
spill from his lips when he thinks about Sirius' ludicrous theories for how he's spending his
time—and oh, he couldn't be further from the truth if he tried. He's even fond of the words
that Sirius crossed out, mysteries Remus will likely never solve, much like the boy who
scratched the words out until they were incomprehensible to Remus and Remus alone.
Anyone else would have started over, but of course Sirius would leave it right there for
Remus to see and wonder about.

Remus uses the letter to hide his helpless smile, tapping the parchment to his curled lips as
his eyes drift shut. He keeps waiting for these feelings to go away, but they never do.

It's a bit pathetic. He's known since fifth year, just a month before Sirius told Snape how to
get past the whomping willow, which was really unfortunate timing for him, honestly,
because it sort of felt like a kick to the fucking teeth, like the universe was mocking him. This
is the bloke you're in love with? Life had asked him, like it was laughing at him, as if it didn't
have enough things to laugh at him for already.

He was so fucking angry about it. That anger always came to him when he had no choice but
to face the fact that he cared about Sirius, still. He wanted so desperately not to care about
Sirius anymore. He tried so fucking hard, and he failed.

He'll never forget the way he felt that fateful morning after the full moon in May, when he
woke up to find James and Peter waiting by his bed in the Hospital Wing, Sirius notably
absent. One look at their faces was all it took.

The worst part is, at first, the only thing Remus could feel was relief, because for one
horrifying, terrifying moment, he thought Sirius' absence meant something else, something he
never would have survived. It's a terrible thing, thinking for even one second that you've
unknowingly mauled someone you love to death. That's a harrowing possibility, his reality,
that he'd never fully grasped until that moment, and he could only be relieved for one space
of a breath, but then he exhaled harshly like he'd been punched in the chest, because it all
came crashing down on him immediately after.

Remus hadn't really understood the shape of his trust in Sirius until it was shattered in his
palms, cutting harshly into his skin and leaving scars deeper than Moony could ever make.
He'd expected heartbreak from Sirius one day, but nothing could have prepared him for
betrayal. Nothing.

Almost six months later, and Remus still couldn't look at him. Couldn't stand the sight of him.
Couldn't wrestle the rising emotions that seeing Sirius' face invoked. He didn't know what to
do with it, with any of it, with what happened and what he felt in the aftermath. He didn't
want to move on, and he didn't know if he ever would, and he was afraid he didn't have a
choice in the matter.

Because, here's the thing. Remus was still pitifully, hopelessly in love with Sirius. Oh, make
no mistake, he hated him. He didn't even know that he could, but he found out that it was
possible, because he hated Sirius with a ferocity to match how ceaselessly he loved him.
They were one in the same, those feelings, hand in hand and clinging to each other like claws
sinking in past skin to scrape at bone. Remus couldn't stop loving him, no more than he could
stop breathing, but he knew what it was to wish to, for both. Remus didn't want to stop hating
Sirius, because he was so afraid that it wouldn't be on his own terms; it would be the love
winning the war with hate, and that wasn't fair, was it?

He didn't want to forgive Sirius because he loves him. He didn't want to forgive Sirius at all.
A ruthless, ravenous part of him wanted Sirius to be on trial for it for the rest of his life,
chained to it the same way Remus is chained to the moon. He wanted Sirius to suffer, to be
miserable, to feel the effects of his own fucking actions for once in his fucking life. He
wanted Sirius to cry every time Remus cried, and muffle raw screams in his throat the way
Remus had to, and fall apart at the same time Remus failed to put himself back together.

And yet, and yet, Remus missed him. Christ, but he missed him. He missed him in every way
there was to miss him. Moony missed Padfoot, for one thing. Each moon that passed without
him, Moony grew more volatile, more aggressive, to the point that James had tentatively
suggested that he let Padfoot come on the next, even if he wouldn't forgive Sirius directly, at
least for Moony's sake. Because it's not like Moony knew what was wrong. The problem was,
Remus didn't want to need Sirius in any form, and he has no sympathy for Moony the way
his friends do. Remus hates Moony dispassionately, resigned to it by now, as well as the fear
he feels for Moony and the full moon that drags him to the surface.

Worse is that Remus missed Sirius. The sound of his laughter, the flash of his smile, the way
it felt to be near him and touched by him. How Sirius' eyes lit up when planning a prank, how
he curled his mouth around Remus' nickname, every version of it, a playful Moony,
Moonshine, Moonbeam, like a reminder that Remus' greatest fears couldn't touch him if
Sirius was around to make him feel safe.

Remus missed when the worst pain he felt in regards to Sirius was knowing that Sirius would
never want him, not the same way Remus wanted him—still wants him, despite everything.
He didn't know that it could get worse. He didn't know that Sirius could hurt him worse, on
purpose. He didn't know that Sirius would, because he never saw it coming, and that hurt,
too. It hurt that he let his guard down, that he dared to let Sirius in, to trust him with the worst
parts of himself, knowing better and then forgetting why he was hesitant in the first place,
only to be harshly reminded. This is why, Sirius reminded him, without ever saying a word.

The thing was, it came down to a few simple truths that he needed time to actually come to
terms with.

They were all children. This may not seem like an impactful thing, but Remus knows that
youth is a gateway to many different forms of mistakes, even some without malicious intent.
When you're young, the capacity to make mistakes is easy, but the willingness to
acknowledge them and learn from them is not. Remus knew Sirius was sorry, and he believed
Sirius honestly meant it and felt true remorse—if not for Snape, then for Remus, and there
was no doubting that.

Remus is aware he's very stubborn. He has this habit of making these rules and conditions in
his head that he feels compelled to follow, even to his own detriment. But take the love out of
it, and if it was making him unhappy to no longer even be Sirius' friend, then what stopped
him from becoming his friend again if not his own pride and stubbornness? What did he earn
by making himself miserable?

It's only natural to not want someone to get away with hurting you. However, if Sirius'
remorse was true, if his guilt was real, then there was nothing Remus was required to do. If it
wasn't, then there was nothing Remus could do. Sirius hurt him, and if he was Remus' true
friend, then it hurt him that he did. Remus couldn't hurt him any more than he hurt himself by
hurting Remus, because that knowledge will stay with Sirius, just as it does him—and it has.
To this day, it has.

Remus had a choice, and it was one greatly influenced by what he wanted and what he was
willing to accept. If he couldn't find it within him to forgive Sirius, that was fair. He didn't
have to, and realizing that was like a weight off his shoulders. In the same breath, if he did
forgive Sirius, that was also fair. He could, and it didn't mean he was giving in, or letting
Sirius hurt him. It wasn't a strike against his pride to do what made him happier, he had every
right to, and realizing that had made him feel like he could breathe for the first time since
everything went wrong.

It wasn't a battle in which he could win. If anything, for as long as Remus was fighting when
he had no desire to, he was already losing. He was thinking of it like a war, so afraid of
surrendering, but he was losing because he was fighting. The only way to win was to stop.

Deep down, he didn't want to fight anymore.

It wasn't easy. It took time. He had to take it slow, and it didn't help that he was also trying to
do it while Sirius was dating Mary. That had been a rough time for more than just Lily, to put
it plainly. Remus prefers not to think about it.

But, at the heart of him, Remus knows Sirius exists past his mistakes, his wrongs, and why
shouldn't he? If everyone was chained to the things they've done wrong, unable to move past
it and grow, then no one would get anywhere or get to live at all. Sirius hurt him, yes, and
Remus has forgiven him for it as much as it's possible to do so, and that's his choice. Love
may have something to do with it, or it may not, but he's happier off for it, so that's what
matters, isn't it?

Does he have trust issues, especially surrounding Sirius? Yes, he does, but that's to be
expected, after everything. His trust issues don't stop him from being a fucking idiot for
Sirius, though, and he's past the point of caring about it. He doesn't even blame himself for it.
Sirius is one of the best people he's ever known, which would sadly surprise a lot of people
who are under the impression that he's a reckless bundle of chaos.

They don't know Sirius the way Remus, James, and Peter are fortunate enough to. They don't
know that Sirius cleans the entire dorm when he's in a good mood. They don't know that
Sirius keeps Remus' bed warm for him after every full, because the cold makes him ache
worse. They don't know that Sirius did it even when Remus was ignoring him and being
awful to him for most of sixth year, blaming it on Peter and James because he wasn't aware
that Remus could catch the scent of him on his sheets. They don't know that Sirius came up
with the idea to become animagi so Remus wouldn't be alone.

They don't know that Sirius is terrified that he's like his family. They don't know that Sirius
has been abused, and still has nightmares about it, but never complains. They don't know that
Sirius gets sad when his friends are too busy to give him attention. They don't know that
Sirius can make anyone love themselves just by telling them all the reasons they should, but
has no clue how to do the same for himself. They don't know that Sirius was there for Peter
when he was heartbroken over a girl, even though he didn't like the girl in the first place.
They don't know that Sirius loves as fiercely as he lives, all without shame.

They don't know Sirius Black, not really, the boy who has never before been the sort of
person who gives up. Sirius doesn't have a defeatist bone in his body. Despite not being much
of an optimist, he isn't someone who goes down easy; there's too much fight and defiance in
him for that.

So, if Remus is going to be stupid about anyone in this world, out of everyone in this world,
he's glad it's Sirius.

"Remus," Lyall calls through the door, knocking on it and giving Remus just enough time to
slip the letter away in the drawer on the stand next to his bed. He's leaning away from it when
Lyall pokes his head into the room, a wry look on his face that Remus is sure he's seen in the
mirror before. "I have to come grab you by your ear, your mother says."

Remus purses his lips. "Can you not and just say you did?"

"She'd know, I'm afraid," Lyall says solemnly.

"Oh, Dad, don't," Remus chokes out, laughing already as his father comes into the room with
his hand outstretched. Lyall does it anyway, but he's laughing all the while. They both are.
Sometimes, being a little silly is the best gift life can grant you. Life may laugh at him, but
Remus has learned to laugh with it. The truth is, Sirius is the one who taught him to.

Hogwarts circa October, 1977

Sirius moves very quietly through the dorm and stops by Remus' trunk, wincing as it creaks
open in the oppressive silence. The key here is to go slow, to be very quiet, and this is
actually something Sirius can do very well if it's for his own personal stakes, or in the name
of a prank.

With care, Sirius draws out the first thing he grabs from on top, then bites his lip as he eases
the lid shut again, holding his breath as he lets it go. Remus didn't have it latched, so Sirius
doesn't have to latch it back. Pleased with his success, he stands up and comes face to face
with Remus, who is poking his head out between the curtains at the end of his bed, his
eyebrows raised as he stares at him.

"Are you stealing one of my jumpers?" Remus asks.

"No," Sirius says, while holding the jumper he just stole from Remus. Slowly, he eases it
behind his back and clears his throat. "No, I'm definitely not doing that."

"Padfoot."

"Moony."

"Sirius," Remus says, eyebrows rising higher.

"Remus," Sirius replies solemnly.

They stare each other down for a long moment. Sirius refuses to confess his crime, for he
feels justified in committing it. He would have gotten away with it, too, if Remus were
sleeping, as he should be. It's late, everyone else is asleep, so Sirius feels that this is Remus'
fault, actually.

Usually, Sirius would boldly just snatch one of Remus' jumpers and carry on about his day,
just like James and Peter do, and Remus has certainly resigned himself to it by now. Sirius
even suspects he's quite fond of the whole ordeal. They always give them back by the end of
the year, unless he's grown out of them—or, well, James and Peter do, but Sirius does have a
bad habit of keeping them. He doesn't generally have to be sneaky about stealing one of
Remus' jumpers, is the point.

The problem is, Sirius and Remus got into an argument earlier about...something. Honestly,
Sirius doesn't really remember what it was about, or the source, only knowing that he and
Remus spent the entire day bickering and snapping at each other over every single little thing.
How Sirius was wearing his tie. How Remus was shifting in his seat during charms. How
Sirius was singing too loud. How Remus was twirling his wand. How Sirius snorted, or
scoffed, or 'had an edge to his tone', apparently. How Remus made a face at something Sirius
said (he did), and rolled his eyes (he did), and made a comment under his breath (he did!) but
denied it when Sirius demanded to know what he said. All of that and more, so by the end of
the day, they simply were not speaking.

They've been doing this with increasing frequency since last year, and it's gotten much worse
this year, so Sirius already knows the whole routine by now. The issue came about when he
was getting ready to sleep and found that either Peter or James (those gits) had stolen the
jumper from Sirius that he'd already stolen from Remus earlier this week, and seeing as Sirius
wanted to curl up in it and go to sleep warm, he was not very pleased with this development.
Hence the heist of taking another one of Remus' jumpers, which would have gone very
smoothly if Remus were actually sleeping.

"I literally saw you, you know," Remus tells him.

Sirius blinks very innocently. "I've no idea what you're on about. Are you feeling alright?
Maybe you should lie down."
"I can see it behind your back right now," Remus insists, visibly exasperated. He's always so
exasperated with Sirius. Secretly, Sirius hopes he finds it endearing, rather than agitating.

"I hate to be the one to inform you of this, Moony, but I fear you may need glasses," Sirius
declares with a sigh. "It's alright, you know. James has them, and we still love him regardless.
Or, perhaps you're just tired. It's late, it's been a long day, you must be exhausted. Exactly
why are you still awake?"

Remus stares at him blankly. "I was nearly drifting off when I heard someone shifty messing
about in my trunk."

"Were you?"

"Just about."

"Someone shifty, you say? Couldn't have been. I haven't seen anyone. Maybe you're
mistaken."

"I'm not."

"Mm, I think you might be," Sirius counters with a shrug.

"Sirius," Remus says firmly, "put it back."

Pursing his lips, Sirius wavers on seeing this through or caving entirely. He judges the
expression on Remus' face against what he knows Remus will tolerate, then does some
careful and thorough calculations in his head. Finally, he comes to his conclusion and
chooses the wisest route as he slumps and proceeds to grumble, "But why? Can't I borrow it?
Just for the night, Remus, and then I'll give it back, yeah?"
"No," Remus says, much to Sirius' internal dismay. "That's the one I wore all day. I just
snatched it off, Sirius, but it needs to be washed."

"So?" Sirius brings the jumper to his face and inhales quickly. It smells good to him. Smells
like Remus. "Seems clean to me, mate. I'll put it in the laundry in the morning, if you like."

Remus clears his throat. "It's clean. I just assumed you'd want one I hadn't worn."

"No, this is fine," Sirius says lightly, then grows mildly uncomfortable when Remus stares at
him. Was that strange? He doesn't always know when he's done something odd in regards to
Remus; it just seems to happen so often that he's consistently internally panicking and asking
himself if he's accidentally done something he shouldn't.

"Right," Remus replies, finally. His lips curl up at the corners a tiny bit, and all of Sirius'
discomfort eases out of him instantly. Remus is the only person Sirius has ever known that
has such control over his emotional state, which would be alarming if it wasn't so addicting.
Sirius loves and hates it in equal measure, the way Remus can send him spiraling with one
look or set him at ease with one tiny smile. "Well, if you don't mind, then by all means…"

"Cheers," Sirius mumbles, clutching the hard-won jumper to his chest. As if he wasn't going
to do it anyway. Remus would have had to rip his bloody arms off to get this jumper away
from him. "I would have gotten away with it, you know, if you had been sleeping as you
should."

"I would be sleeping if you hadn't done it in the first place."

"Well, if you were already asleep, you wouldn't have noticed."

"I—" Remus snaps his mouth shut, then heaves a sigh and shakes his head. "Christ, why am I
even arguing with you in the middle of the night about my sleeping habits?"

"Good question." Sirius grins. "I don't know, Moony, why are you?"
"Goodnight, Padfoot," Remus says, exasperated again as he rolls his eyes and slips back into
the curtains again.

Sirius tosses the jumper over one shoulder and shuffles forward to grip the bed-hangings as
he shoves his head through and whispers, "Goodnight. Sleep well."

"I'll try. Thank you," Remus responds, sounding amused as he settles back in his bed and gets
comfortable. Sirius watches him shift around, then relax, then peer at Sirius. After a long
moment, Remus coughs. "Going to stand there all night?"

"What? Oh!" Sirius jolts and rears back quickly, then frowns and pokes his head back in.
"Sorry. I wasn't—I was just telling you goodnight. That was all. Not—I mean, just, you
know."

"Right. Got it," Remus murmurs, his voice strangled like he's trying desperately not to laugh.
"Well?"

"Well...what?" Sirius asks, blinking at him.

Remus props up on his elbow and raises his eyebrows again, and something about the
expression through the dim view of the shadows makes Sirius break out into goosebumps.
Not spooky goosebumps, but good goosebumps. He isn't sure why, really, but he likes them
nonetheless. "Well, you've already said goodnight, Sirius, and you're still here. At this rate,
you'll be watching me sleep all night if you won't get on with telling me what it is you want."

"I don't want anything."

"No? So, you're lingering for no reason, then?"

"I'm not lingering," Sirius protests, as he lingers.

"No, not at all," Remus says dryly. "Sirius, honestly, go to sleep."

Sirius frowns. "Fine. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Remus replies as he flops back down.

"Is it strange that I want to wear the jumper you were wearing all day?" Sirius blurts out.

Remus hesitates for a moment too long, then wearily props himself up once again. "No."

"Do you find me strange?"

"No, Padfoot."

"It just—you just looked at me like you thought it was strange, that's all," Sirius mutters.

"I didn't."

"You did."

"I really didn't," Remus counters.

Sirius scoffs. "You obviously did."

"Christ." Remus pushes himself up all the way so he can rub both hands over his face,
muffling a deep sigh into his palms, and then he drops them. "Stop being a cunt, Sirius. I
didn't look at you like I thought it was strange, because I never thought it was strange at all."

"So, what did you think?" Sirius presses, because honestly, he's always a bit desperate to
know what Remus is thinking about him, or really about anything at any given moment.

"I—nothing."

"Nothing? So, you didn't have one thought?"

"Not really."

"That's gobshite, Remus. You had to have thought something."

"Sirius, for fuck's sake," Remus bursts out. "I didn't think it was strange, alright? Didn't much
think of it at all. Take the jumper, wear it, I don't give a toss."

"Well, you don't have to be so rude," Sirius snaps.

"It is after one past midnight," Remus hisses.

"Yes, and if you'd been sleeping—"

"Are you fucking—"

"Oh, enough!" Peter shouts, his voice sleepy and loud as Sirius and Remus fall silent,
freezing in place. "James! James!"
"Wha'?! Wha's'it?" James garbles out, sounding panicked.

Peter releases a furious exhale. "Let Sirius in your sodding bed, would you? He's up and
pestering Moony, and some of us are trying to fucking sleep!"

"Oh, fuckin' hell," James mumbles. There's a grunt, then a huff. "Well? Come on, Padfoot.
Leave Moony be, yeah?"

"I'm not pestering him," Sirius protests defensively.

"Just—come on," James insists wearily.

Sirius doesn't want to, though. Rather ridiculously, he wants to stay exactly where he's at,
doing exactly what he's doing, and he wants to keep at it for as long as he can get away with.
He doesn't care that it's the middle of the night; he just...wants to be right here, doing this;
listening to Remus' voice, even if he's snapping at him; watching Remus' face, even if he's
scowling at him. It reminds him of when he was a child wanting his parents to notice him. He
knew how to get them to notice him; all he had to do was something wrong. Even negative
attention is better than no attention to those desperate for it, and gods, Sirius is so fucking
desperate for it.

"Sirius," James says more firmly this time.

Huffing, Sirius sends Remus a cross look, which Remus responds to by flipping him off, and
that makes Sirius want to dive into the bed and wrestle around with Remus until they're
laughing breathlessly and pressed close, touching more than they have in years. But they
don't do things like that anymore. It goes unspoken that it's not allowed, not between them,
and Sirius isn't sure why, but it's a line he's not eager to cross. So, instead of indulging that
fantasy, Sirius scowls and rips himself backwards to turn towards James' bed.

Defiantly, Sirius shoves himself into Remus' jumper and wraps his arms around himself as he
swats James' bed-hangings aside and practically falls into bed next to him. James squints
blearily, but dutifully flicks his wand at the curtains to keep them shut and keep them from
being overheard.

"Remus thinks I'm strange," Sirius mutters.

James gives a yawn so deep that his whole body shakes, then reaches over to pat Sirius'
shoulder. "Remus thinks you're brilliant, mate. Now, go to sleep."

Sirius grunts and turns over to his side, tucking his face over into the collar, his eyes
fluttering shut as he breathes in and out, in and out, in...and out… He nuzzles down into the
jumper. Oh, it's so warm. Damn Remus Lupin, and his warm jumpers that smell nice. Sirius
isn't fucking strange for wanting to wear the sodding thing, so Remus can piss off, is what he
can do.

Sleeping with James isn't really a new thing, but Sirius hasn't done it since the summer, when
he was fretting about Regulus. James just has this built-in soothe-Sirius feature that works
like magic to help him sleep sometimes, especially when his brain is all topsy-turvy. Sirius
maybe goes running to James about literally all of his problems and has been since he was
eleven, but what are best friends for, right? Sirius has sprawled out next to James and listened
for hours on end about his woes with the lovely Lily Evans, or that one time when he actually
nearly broke down sobbing because he lost a Quidditch game he was really determined to
win. No one else gets to see James like that, and it's much rarer than Sirius having problems,
but they're just...each other's person. They just—are.

So, it's a bit unsettling how genuinely disappointed Sirius is to be next to him right now. The
impulse to slip out of bed and go right back over to Remus is so strong that he actually starts
to rise up and do just that, but James' hand snaps out to clamp down on his arm and pull him
back to bed. James isn't even fully awake; he can literally monitor Sirius in his sleep. That
would be hilarious any other time.

Sighing, Sirius slumps back down on the bed and buries his face into the sleeves of the
jumper. The urge to get up and go stays with him, but he breathes around it. In and out, in and
out, in...and out… Slowly, still disappointed, Sirius drifts off into fretful sleep.

And then, when James coaxes him out of bed, Remus is already bright-eyed and moving
around. He looks at Sirius and smiles slightly before saying, "Morning, Sirius."
"Good morning, Moony," Sirius replies, beaming at him like the previous night never even
happened. It's a new day, and Remus is smiling at him, so chances are, it'll be a good one.

Peter is so grouchy that he doesn't talk to either of them until lunch.

Hogwarts circa December, 1977

The restricted section of the library in Hogwarts is for more than just keeping the knowledge
of questionable magic out of the hands of children. It's also about preservation, because
children are careless, and some of these things are genuinely ancient. Most information
surrounding the patronus charm pre-dates the 1900s, even the 1800s in some cases, so a lot of
it is to be found in the restricted section.

The graduating class of 1977 in Hogwarts are lucky to have the defense professor that they
have, who isn't afraid to take the risk of encouraging children to try their hand at an
incorporeal patronus charm, seeing as a corporeal would be too advanced for anyone to
manage it, surely. Until, of course, to his own surprise (and everyone else's), Remus got the
charm down ridiculously fast, though it wasn't simple. The defense professor then went on to
encourage the rest of the class to try their hands at it, to practice, and if people couldn't
manage it, then it was fine, but if they could… Well, brilliant.

James has got it down. Peter can do an incorporeal patronus, and so can Lily and Mary.
Marlene can do a corporeal one (her patronus is a gazelle), and Sirius...can't even form a
wisp.

Now, of course, the defense professor had to go on and inform the entire class about the story
behind the patronus charm, in which a dark wizard who lived with dementors attacked a
village seeking a wife, and the tiniest patronus in the form of a mouse essentially saved the
entire village by halting the dementors, and the dark wizard was so enraged that a little
patronus could do so much that he tried to fight it by summoning his own, except he was a
bad man and not 'pure of heart', so maggots burst from his wand and devoured him.
Naturally, one particular part of this story stuck with Sirius.
Remus is quite sure this is just a myth, sort of like a wizard's fable, just some story meant to
tell the children. He doesn't really believe that it takes someone 'pure of heart' heart to cast
the charm (hello, he did it, and Snape also looked well on his way to getting it as well), but
the idea that it does has clearly gotten to Sirius, whose biggest fear—or one of them—is that
he's not a good person, or he's too much like his family.

Remus thinks he's putting too much pressure on himself, honestly. You have to be in a really
steady mental state to cast the charm, and Sirius is...almost never in a steady mental state,
frankly. Remus isn't sure how to help him, but he isn't above sneaking into the restricted
section while Lily keeps a lookout, just so he can find any and all information on the charm
that could be in any way helpful to them.

He doesn't find very much.

A corporeal patronus is one that is fully-formed, taking the shape of a bright-silver,

translucent animal. It is the strongest form a patronus can take, being able to fully drive
dementors away. The specific animal forms that a corporeal patronus takes will vary from
person to person and reflect each individual's innermost personality.

Remus scowls at the lone scroll he's found. Reflect each individual's innermost personality?
Is that so? Brilliant, so he's just a fucking wolf in literally every aspect. Even his bloody
name… Oh, life is laughing at him. It really, really is, and he can't find it within himself to
laugh along with it this time. He scans the scroll further and freezes when he realizes that life
actually gave him a break for once.

Patronus forms, however, are subject to change if the caster goes through an emotional
upheaval of some sort, including falling in eternal, unchanging love, or unwavering
infatuation, he reads, and suddenly, he's a lot more grateful for his wolf patronus than he was
before. He imagines the horror of casting the charm and watching the form of Padfoot burst
out, shuddering at the thought. Nothing could be more humiliating.

It's bad enough that the smell of amortentia to him is just the condensed version of Sirius
sodding Black in vapor form. He remembers last year, when he'd inhaled and gotten a face
full of Sirius, which made him panic so much that he quite literally gave himself a head
injury. It seems that life is cutting him a bit of slack, because the only thing worse than
having a wolf patronus would be having one that spells out all his great, big endless feelings
for Sirius. No, thank you.

Shaking his head, Remus rolls the scroll back up (gingerly) and sneaks back out of the
restricted section, his endeavor proving to be fruitless. He couldn't find one thing to disprove
the story behind the charm, or even reassure Sirius that there's not some standard for good he
has to reach to be able to cast it. Honestly, he's tempted to just make something up, because
even if there were some standard, Remus knows that Sirius would certainly surpass it. Sirius
is good. At the core of him, in his heart, Sirius is so very good.

"Find what you were looking for?" Lily whispers as they move back through the library,
shooting innocent smiles at Madame Pince as they go.

"No," Remus admits wearily. "Nothing, really."

Lily clicks her tongue. "I don't know why it's bothering him so much, honestly. It's not like
we're being graded on it, and we aren't actually expected to get a full corporeal. Even casting
an incorporeal is a feat, so it's not a reflection of his skill."

"It's not about his skill, Lily," Remus says, then purses his lips slightly. "Well, not just that. It
surely has something to do with it, I suspect, because he's generally always quick to pick up
any magic, even those difficult for everyone else. But it's more than that. He's—he's worried
about the reflection of him."

"Because of the whole 'pure of heart' thing?"

"Right."

"Oh, that's such rubbish," Lily announces with a scoff. "Sirius is a good person, there's no
doubt about it. He doesn't need some form of magic to prove that."

Remus hums. "No, I don't think so either, but he wants it really bad. I want to help, but…"
"Do you think he's just...trying too hard? Expecting too much from himself?" Lily asks with a
frown of sympathy, and Remus knows she gets that. She has a bad habit of doing that herself,
particularly when it comes to her academic talents.

"I think so," Remus murmurs, "but he's not going to let it go until he gets it."

Lily snorts. "No surprise there. I've been trying, too, you know. But I can get an incorporeal,
at least. What's your secret?"

"The power of friendship," Remus jokes, except it's honestly not a joke at all. Remus doubts
he would ever be able to form a corporeal patronus if he didn't have Peter, Sirius, and James
in his life. Their acceptance of him, their love for him—well, there's genuinely nothing that
makes Remus happier.

"That's...grossly soppy, Remus," Lily says.

Remus gives her a light shove as she busts out laughing. "Oh, shut up."

They chat all the way back to the common room, then split off when they get inside. Lily
heads over to Peter and Marlene, who seem to be reenacting some story to a group of second
years that are hanging off their every word and move. Remus sees her plop down next to
Mary, who brightens with a smile before going back to fondly watching Marlene and Peter.
James is nowhere to be seen, nor is Sirius, so Remus assumes they're in the dorm. He heads
that way.

Inside the dorm, James is also missing, and the map is gone, so Remus assumes he's out and
about chasing Regulus around the castle. He immediately puts that out of his mind. Remus
has enough to deal with when it comes to the eldest Black brother, he doesn't need to add the
youngest, or James' rising obsession with him, to the mix.

Speaking of the eldest, Sirius can be found doing what he's often doing these days—
practicing the patronus charm in visible frustration. Remus has been over it with him
countless times now, telling him the pronunciation, showing him the wand movements. He
does it every time, and he's just waiting for the exact moment Sirius will confess his fears that
he's not a good person, so Remus can point out that he's literally classified as a dark creature
and managed to get the patronus, so if he can do it, then Sirius certainly can.

He won't bring it up first, because he knows it will bother Sirius that he's so transparent about
this. Remus doesn't know if James and Peter have caught on that this is Sirius' issue yet, but
Remus is very aware. The first chance he gets, he's going to let Sirius know the importance of
choice, because it is important that Sirius is always trying to choose to be a good person,
especially as he grows older.

For now, Sirius just looks a bit miserable.

"Hi," Sirius mumbles as he lowers his wand and pushes to his feet, standing just because
Remus has entered the room. He does that a lot. Remus isn't sure why.

"Hi," Remus replies. "Still practicing?" Sirius nods with a heavy sigh, and Remus clicks his
tongue as he moves over to his stand, digging into his stash to grab some chocolate. He
moves over and sits on Sirius' bed, waiting for Sirius to drop down beside him before
offering it. "Here. Take a break."

"Oh, you're sharing chocolate. I must look dreadful," Sirius says with a weak smile, taking
the offering.

Contrary to popular belief, Remus doesn't actually love chocolate the way his mates tease
him about. It's just chocolate frogs, honestly, purely because it was his first introduction to
wizarding sweets. His father brought it to him after every full moon before he started
Hogwarts, and for a long time, that was the only thing he had to look forward to, following
all the pain he endured. Remus suspects his dad did it out of some form of guilt, but he was
too young to really understand that at that age. So, he swore by it, that eating chocolate would
help, would make anyone feel better. He was so insistent on this (treating it as fact and
believing it as such), especially in first and second year, that Sirius, James, and Peter picked
up the habit of giving him chocolate a lot and teasing him lightheartedly for loving it.

There are worse things to be known for, really, so Remus isn't complaining. He doesn't hate
chocolate, obviously, and he will never say no to chocolate frogs.
"You don't look dreadful," Remus assures him, because Sirius couldn't look dreadful if he
was skin and bones and crawling out of a cave. He's unfairly beautiful, literally all of the
time.

Sirius sighs again. "Small mercies."

"Where's James?" Remus asks, hoping to take Sirius' mind off it, only to belatedly remember
that he's not getting involved in whatever mess James is making for himself at the moment.

"He's off running around after Regulus," Sirius says with a chuckle, taking a bite of chocolate
and holding out the other half to Remus, who accepts it automatically.

Remus hums and lets it melt in his mouth before asking, "So, he's still on that, is he? It
doesn't bother you at all?"

"No." Sirius' lips twitch. "Honestly, I think it's good for Reggie. He's a bit secluded, and he's
making his friends only see him in secret. I don't know. I suppose I don't want him to be
lonely. We're still… Well, it's different with me because I'm his brother, do you know what I
mean? I imagine he thinks I have something to do with him out of some sort of obligation,
but James isn't his brother, so I think it's good. Besides, James can cheer anyone up, and Reg
could do with some cheering."

"That's really quite mature of you, you know," Remus points out, lips curling up. "Sharing
your best mate, I mean, and recognizing that James can help Regulus in ways you can't."

Sirius hums, popping the last bite in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. When he swallows, he
says, "I don't know if it's maturity, or not just that, in any case. I'm just…"

"Worried," Remus says softly. "You're worried about him."

"I can't help it." Sirius glances over at him, looking a bit defeated as he shrugs. "I know that's
mental, because of our history, but he's—he's my little brother, Remus."

Remus' face softens. "I know."

"It's complicated, but it's also—not." Sirius grimaces. "I know what it feels like. I know how
easy it is to think…" He swallows harshly and looks away. "And, you know, I used to think I
would revel in getting to see him fail, or fall from the stupid pedestal our parents put him on,
but this… It's just different when it's real. I can't—I can't be there all the time, and it drives
me spare. He wouldn't even let me be there all the time, because he's a stubborn prick with a
lot of pride. But—but if James can be there when I can't...well, I trust James, so it's actually
sort of a relief. I don't know. I'm—I'm grateful that Regulus and I are...closer again, sort of,
but I wish it didn't have to happen like this. Not about him being gay. Not with all
this...backlash he has to deal with. It's not fair."

"No, it's not," Remus agrees. His heart clenches in his chest at the complex twist of emotion
in Sirius' eyes. He feels so, so much all of the time. There's so much depth to him that so
many don't notice, and even fewer who can see it, and no one can explore it all, even if they
had all the time in the world to do so. Remus feels like he gets lost in it sometimes, drawn in
and not eager to find his way out. It's also just Sirius' eyes, too. His lovely, lovely eyes.
"You're a good brother, Sirius."

Sirius looks over at him, directing those eyes right on Remus as he whispers, "You think
so?"

"I know so," Remus murmurs, because he knows that for sure now, and it's clearly important
to Sirius. Why his opinion matters to Sirius never fails to baffle him.

"You're too kind to me sometimes, Moony," Sirius says quietly, ducking his head forward
with a soft sigh and dropping his forehead to Remus' shoulder. It's just one point of contact, a
light pressure, a barely-there touch, and Remus' heart still starts rioting immediately anyway.

"I'm just being honest," Remus mumbles, not making any sudden moves. Everything with
Sirius feels too big, too grandiose, larger than life. Like one wrong move could send
everything crumbling in between them. Remus is never more aware of his body, the very
breath in his lungs, the harsh thump of his heart than when Sirius is touching him.
"I love it when I haven't done something to peeve you off," Sirius tells him, sounding vaguely
pleased. He lifts his head and turns it away, but Remus can see him grinning. "If only I could
manage not to more often."

"Oh, if only," Remus says mildly, fighting not to just melt into a puddle on the spot.
Sometimes, he can viscerally feel just how deeply in love with Sirius he is, and each time is
more than it was the last time. There's no measurement where it ends; this is something that
goes on forever.

"I'll work it out someday," Sirius muses, then glances down at his wand with a scowl. "Likely
before I ever work out how to do this stupid fucking patronus charm."

Remus has to stifle a laugh. He doesn't want to find it funny, but Sirius is pouting. Remus
resists the urge to coo at him, because he's a bit of a prick just like everyone else. He coughs
instead and says, "Yes, well, I'd disagree. You'll get the charm, no doubt, but I've resigned
myself to spending the rest of my life being repeatedly peeved off by you."

"Probably for the best," Sirius says lightly, breaking out into a grin again, looking over at him
with his eyes sparkling.

Oh, Remus loves him so. He's looking forward to the rest of his life, and it's entirely Sirius'
fault.

"Yeah," Remus murmurs fondly, "I thought so, too."

Hogwarts circa January, 1978

Sirius hates him.

The 'nice gardener'. Sirius hates him. Sirius doesn't know his name, or what he looks like, or
anything about him other than the fact that Remus shagged him, but Sirius hates him.

Sirius doesn't want to think about it, but he's thinking about it. Obsessively. Thinking about
the nice gardener and Remus. How many times did they snog? When and where and for how
long? Merlin, how many times did they shag? Has the nice gardener had Remus gasping and
shaking under his hands? Does Remus love him? He said it wasn't serious, but it's not as if he
would be shouting it from the rooftops if it were. That's not Remus. He doesn't do that.

It's an unfortunate thing, not being able to quiet one's mind. Sirius has never really learned
how. His brain is ruthlessly throwing things about, dragging increasingly worse scenarios
across his mind with each toss. He pictures it—Remus running his fingers through the nice
gardener's hair, the nice gardener getting to touch Remus' lips with his own—and Sirius hates
his vivid imagination. There's a harsh pulse of that's not allowed, no one can do that with
Remus, take your grubby hands off him that brands the center of his chest. Sirius wants to
break the nice gardener's hands right off.

There's a violent, pressing need to rewind time and fix this, to rip the nice gardner away from
Remus and never let him near again, to fucking fight the nice gardner if it comes to it, and
win. It's wrong, Sirius knows that. Feeling this angry, this disgusted, is bad. It's distressing,
because Sirius didn't know he could feel this way. He thought he was better than this. And
yet, Sirius is absolutely seething, as well as constantly fighting the bile that churns in his
stomach and threatens to rise up his throat every time he thinks about the nice gardener's
hands on Remus' skin, tracing his freckles…

"Today has been shit," Remus announces as he drops down on the settee in the common room
beside Peter, who makes a sympathetic noise and reaches out to squeeze his shoulder.

"Shame your nice gardener isn't here to make it better for you," Sirius mutters bitterly,
scowling as he fiddles with his wand between both hands. He doesn't even bother trying the
patronus charm right now. Thinking about what Remus told him—how there's light and dark
in everyone, and the important part is what they choose to act on—doesn't help him. Sirius is
back to being unable to even get a wisp.
"Fuck's sake, Sirius," Remus snaps, his head whipping towards Sirius, eyes flashing. "Would
you shut up about it already? If I'd known you would have reacted like this, I wouldn't have
even mentioned it."

"No, you would have just carried on not telling anyone—"

"Why would I have to tell anyone? It's no one's business!"

"Well, it sure explains why you ignored the rest of us for the summer," Sirius spits out. "Too
busy with your nice—"

Remus shoves himself forward to perch on the end of the settee, releasing a low sound of
frustration as he jerks his hands out in front of him. "I didn't ignore any of you, you fucking
prick. Maybe you've forgotten, but we exchanged many letters over the summer, which was a
vast improvement to the one before it, if you recall."

"Oh, this has nothing to do with—with that, so don't even try it," Sirius hisses, refusing to
back down just because Remus has hinted at his mistake, and the aftermath of it when Remus
wouldn't have anything to do with him. Usually, this would be enough to shut him down, but
Sirius is too wound up over this stupid fucking nice gardener. "Don't act like the reason you
didn't visit us wasn't because you were too fucking busy getting your end away with some—
some—"

"Some what?" Remus challenges.

"Some—nice gardener!" Sirius bursts out, finally, because that's literally all he knows about
the bloke, other than the fact that he's a muggle, which isn't a problem. Not that being nice or
a gardener is actually a problem, generally, but Sirius now hates this nice gardener
specifically. "Don't deny it. You were too busy with the nice gardener to come visit. That's
what it was. I was asking, and that's what you were doing, and you came up with all these
weak excuses, but it was about that."

Remus hesitates for a moment too long, which tells Sirius all he needs to know, and it's not a
victory having it confirmed at all. "So what? I never saw you being sorry for going off and
shagging Mary whenever you damn well pleased."

"Don't drag me into this," Mary calls from across the room, because they're—doing this in
front of the entire common room. Brilliant. Sirius may have forgotten that.

He also doesn't let it stop him. "Yeah, don't drag Mary into this! What does that have to do
with anything? I certainly never hid that I was doing it, did I?"

"No, definitely not," Remus says with a scoff, and then he narrows his eyes at Sirius. "Also,
you can't think of one reason why I kept this to myself? Not even one, Sirius?"

"I—" Sirius wavers, frustrated. Yes, alright, he gets why Remus would have, seeing as it's a
bloke he was shagging. Even now, they've both been very careful not to mention that the nice
gardener was a bloke. Still, "Yes, fine, but it's me. You could have told me! But you didn't."

"I wasn't required to!" Remus shouts. "Sorry, but you're not entitled to know everything about
everyone, alright?! I know that's hard for you to fathom, but—"

"I don't want to know everything about everyone!" Sirius bursts out. "I want to know
everything about you!" The room falls silent, and Sirius realizes a beat too late how strange
of a thing that was for him to say. He exhales sharply, his heart racing, then clears his throat.
"And Peter. And James."

Remus presses his lips into a thin line. "Well, that's just too bad. You can't know everything
about me. You just can't, and I don't want you to. I didn't tell you, and I didn't have to. I really
wish I hadn't told you at all, with the way you're acting."

"You know what, Remus? Fuck you," Sirius grinds out, because that stings. Remus wields
words like a weapon, an esteemed wordsmith that could put any swordsmith to shame. He
can say things that slice deeper than the sharpest sword, and for some reason, nothing hurts
more than having Remus tell him he doesn't want Sirius to know things about him.
"Really?" Remus asks incredulously.

"Yes, really," Sirius snaps as he shoves to his feet, glaring at him. "Fuck you, Remus. Wait,
your nice gardener has already taken care of that. I hope the shagging was mediocre."

"It wasn't," Remus retorts sharply.

This, for some reason, makes Sirius flinch. He clenches his jaw, wishing desperately that the
nice gardener would just pop up in front of him, so he can hit him at least once. He doesn't,
so Sirius can only direct his fury at Remus, except he can't really speak past the lump that's
lodged into his throat. It invited itself there the moment Remus insinuated he enjoyed
shagging the nice gardener, and now it won't go away.

So, in the end, Sirius just swivels on the spot and stalks off, slamming his way out of the
portrait entrance, ignoring it when the portrait scolds him for being so rough. He doesn't care,
just keeps on going. He has somewhere to be anyway.

Sirius hasn't technically gone stargazing with Regulus since they were children, young
children, before Hogwarts. They used to sneak out onto the roof of Grimmauld Place
together, bringing a haul of snacks and sweets they had stashed, talking and laughing quietly
as they looked up at the stars.

In truth, there wasn't very much to see. Number Twelve was on a fairly lit up street, so the
night sky didn't come through as clear as it does at Hogwarts. Sirius thinks that may have
been where he first found his love for the moon, as they spent a lot of time gazing upon it
instead; fitting, Sirius thinks, the way he has always loved the moon, and how the admiration
and love for it never leaves his voice when talking about Remus. He'd hoped to one day teach
Remus to love it as well, and himself just the same, but Sirius hasn't managed to yet.

At this particular moment, Sirius can't think about that. The moon, or Remus, or the nice
gardener that Remus shagged. It doesn't do to dwell on that right now, not when it's Regulus'
birthday, and they're going to fly.
It's not late enough that the stars and moon shine like beacons, but they're becoming visible
as evening crowds in. It's windy out, especially up in the air, so Sirius is grateful he's dressed
for the weather. He hasn't brought his old broom to school since fifth year, after he got kicked
off the team as part of his punishment for what he did to Snape, but the brooms that the
school provides will do. It's just an evening fly.

Regulus is already up in the air, lazily looping the pitch in that casual way he does, at ease on
his broom as always. They fly a lot alike, because they learned to fly together. Back before
their uncle Alphard was essentially kicked from the family, he bought Sirius and Regulus
their first brooms. They were young, so they were just toy brooms, really, but he and Regulus
used to fly around the garden all the time together. As they got bigger, so did their brooms,
and even after Uncle Alphard was gone, they were still flying with the same love he'd first
granted them.

"You're late," Regulus comments when Sirius meets him in the air. He sends Sirius a
judgmental look. "On my birthday."

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Oi, keep the sass to yourself. I'm in no mood."

"But it's my birthday," Regulus insists, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, happy birthday, you ponce," Sirius says, huffing out a weak laugh when Regulus
flashes a rare grin at him. He's in a good mood, Sirius can tell. "The big one. Seventeen. No
one to answer to but yourself now."

"Is that how you felt when you turned seventeen, then?"

"Are you joking? I've never answered to anyone."

"No?" Regulus asks, amused, circling Sirius in the air.

"Well…" Sirius pauses, pursing his lips. "Alright, so there's Effie and Monty. And
McGonagall. And James. And Peter, sometimes. And Remus. You know, upon reflection, I
answer to a lot more people than I thought. Devastating news, that."

Regulus snorts. "It would be for you, wouldn't it? Makes sense, though. I think we need
teams of people to keep us in line."

"Oh, so now that you're technically an adult, you're just accepting that, are you?" Sirius says,
lips twitching.

"I've reached full maturity, can't you tell?"

"No, you still look like a child to me, as always."

"Yes, well, you'll always look like an idiot to me. I get it."

Sirius whips his broom to the side and darts past Regulus to smack him on the head as he
goes by, but Regulus is quick enough to get a kick to Sirius' leg, the git. "I'm not an idiot, shut
up. I'll knock you off your broom."

"I'm no child," Regulus replies, "and you're welcome to try."

"Ah, you'll always be an itty-bitty baby," Sirius coos at him, laughing when Regulus wrinkles
his nose. Sirius shakes his head and releases a fond sigh. "Gods, seventeen. I remember when
you were seven, Reggie. A fucking decade."

"I remember when I was seven, too," Regulus murmurs, tilting his head back to look up at the
sky like he's remembering all the times they used to sneak out to stargaze, too. The thought
makes Sirius' chest pinch with a mixture of fondness and an odd pain he can't describe, just
that out of all the things he could recall from his childhood, he would think of moments with
Sirius. To be fair, there's not many fond memories with their parents, so really, his options are
limited. "It's been a long fucking decade, I'll just say that."
"Yeah, it really has," Sirius mutters, choking out a laugh. "So, do you miss it, then? Being
seven?"

"Simpler times."

"Was it?"

Regulus squints up at the sky, then sighs and drops his head to look at Sirius instead. "No, I
suppose not. It's just that the problems I had then seem small and trivial compared to the ones
I have now. By the time I'm twenty-seven, I'm assuming my problems now will seem the
same. Isn't living fun?"

"Oh, don't start with that. It's your birthday, Regulus."

"So?"

"You've been doing better, you know. I've noticed," Sirius says softly. "Just—happier, lately, I
mean. It's good."

"Mm," Regulus hums noncommittally. "You haven't been. It's my birthday, and you're clearly
in a strop. Why?"

Sirius huffs. "Stop paying attention to me."

"You first," Regulus shoots back.

"That doesn't count. You're my little brother."

"Yes, and you're my idiot, older brother. Your point? Besides, I've always been your younger
brother, but that didn't much matter to you when you left."

"Regulus," Sirius mumbles.

Shaking his head, Regulus says, "I'm not blaming you. I'm just making an observation."

"You do blame me," Sirius counters, knowing it in his bones.

"I actually...don't," Regulus tells him slowly, his lips tipping down at the corners. "I—well, I
don't know. I did, but after you left, I saw how bad Mother and Father could be… I mean,
really saw it, Sirius, and not—not just what I thought it was. I went from being everything
they wished you were, which felt...good, to being your replacement, basically, except that
came with expectations and pressure and—and—"

"Yeah," Sirius cuts in, "I know. I already know, Reg."

"I was trying, and there were moments I didn't want to, and that's when I stopped blaming
you," Regulus admits. "I just understood in a way I didn't before."

"I told you, though."

"I didn't believe you. I didn't want to."

Sirius frowns, stung. "Why?"

"It wasn't about you. It was about them, and me," Regulus murmurs, looking down at his
broom. "I didn't want them to be wrong, Sirius, and by extension—me. Not exactly an easy
thing to adjust to when you've got your Mother in your ear, your own sense of pride, and your
own resentment about a lot of things. But it wasn't—it wasn't you, not really. I thought it was,
and I was wrong about that, too. So, no, I don't blame you for doing what I couldn't. No point
in it now, is there?"

"You're—really hard on yourself, do you know that?" Sirius says, just as he realizes it. He
didn't know that, actually. He used to get so infuriated by how Regulus never held himself or
their parents accountable for anything, but Sirius is learning that Regulus is a lot more like
him than he ever thought, just in his very own Regulus way. It's sort of bizarre, honestly.

Regulus shrugs. "You're no better."

"A shared trait," Sirius declares dryly, and Regulus' lips twitch. Sirius swallows and looks up
at the sky. "Do you—do you ever worry that you're like them? The worst parts of our family,
I mean. Like no matter what you do, no matter where you end up, you can't escape it even
when that's all you try to do?"

"I know there are things from the worst parts that I'll never get away from," Regulus says
quietly. Sirius looks at him, and his eyebrows furrow. "But you… Sirius, I'll only say this
once. You're the best thing that's ever come out of our family."

Sirius blinks. "Oh."

"I don't envy your position at all," Regulus continues, looking vaguely amused. "For once.
It's a tall order, being better than the rotten family you come from. I have no desire to fill
your shoes, and I couldn't if I tried. You do it well enough, from what I can tell. You don't
have anything to worry about."

"Oh," Sirius repeats stupidly, dangerously close to crying. He didn't know how much he
wanted to hear that, specifically from Regulus, until he heard it. Perhaps ridiculously, it takes
him a moment to pull himself together and not have an emotional breakdown while hovering
in the air. He blinks tears out of his eyes and clears his throat. "Well, you know, that was
suspiciously kind of you."

"You're having a hard time, and it's my birthday. I can do whatever I want," Regulus
announces with a shrug. "Don't worry, I still think you're an idiot."
"There it is," Sirius says wryly. He shakes his head. "Gods, James is a good influence on
you."

Regulus narrows his eyes. "What does James have to do with anything, Sirius?"

"Well, he's brilliant at making one's life better, isn't he? He's been doing it for me since I was
eleven." Sirius shrugs. "Like I said, you seem better lately, so I'm assuming he's helping."

"James is—James," Regulus mutters, scowling, and something about the look on his face
makes Sirius want to laugh.

Sirius fights a smile. "Yeah, sounds about right. I know you two snogged, you know. So, how
was it?"

"Oh no, absolutely not," Regulus says sharply.

"What?" Sirius bursts out laughing. "Come on, Reggie, I want to know. You snogged my best
mate. Oh, that's mental."

"He snogged me," Regulus retorts defensively, then his whole face scrunches. "No, no, I'm
not doing this. Not with you."

"Why not?!" Sirius squawks, still laughing.

"How's Lupin?" Regulus asks abruptly, and Sirius' laughter immediately cuts out. Regulus
arches an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Sirius purses his lips, squinting at Regulus, because he can sense something greater at play
here. It's a sibling sixth sense, really, just the simple knowledge that Regulus has some sort of
power that Sirius knows not. Something that would most certainly win against whatever
Sirius challenged him with. Being a sibling is sometimes just knowing when to back away
slowly, your whole being aware that you'll wish you had if you don't, because siblings are
fucking ruthless at times. They're like a built-in best friend who knows all your secrets before
you do, but also your worst enemy who will exploit them when it suits their fancy. Sirius
doesn't know what it is, or what it has to do with Remus, but he has enough sense to know he
wants absolutely nothing to do with it, especially right now.

"You know what?" Sirius says carefully.

Regulus' lips twitch, because he knows a less-than-graceful retreat when he sees one. "What,
Sirius?"

"I'm going to beat you to the goals," Sirius announces a split second before he darts off with a
loud laugh as Regulus curses and follows a moment too late, like they're children racing one
another around the back garden again.

Sirius can't win against Regulus about the other thing, but he can win by getting to the goals
first. He doesn't, though. He lets Regulus beat him.

It is his birthday, after all.

Hogwarts circa January, 1978

Remus doesn't regret Levi, despite everything. In fact, he's grateful for Levi and all that he
taught him, and Remus wishes him well. Levi didn't come to visit him over the break, but he
did send a letter explaining that he was simply too busy to, and he also mentioned a man a
few times with enough fondness in the words he'd written for Remus to read between the
lines. Which, honestly? Good for him. He's clearly doing a lot better in the love department
than Remus.
The thing is, Remus can't figure out what Sirius' problem is. He never fucking shuts up about
Levi—or the 'nice gardener', as he's taken to calling him, always with a sour note in his voice.
Frankly, if he never brought him up again, Remus would think that he was kidnapped and
replaced by an imposter. It doesn't make any sense. Sirius can support everyone else in their
queer adventures, but not Remus? When Remus wanted special treatment from Sirius, this is
not what he meant.

Remus is just about to reach the end of his rope when, rather unexpectedly, Sirius somehow
makes it all better and so, so much worse, all at the same time.

Sirius comes to him at night, when Remus is least expecting it and can't easily get away. He
also comes how Remus least expects it, by snatching Remus' bed-hangings open, climbing
inside, and settling down at the end of Remus' bed. It forces Remus to shuffle his feet out of
the way as he sits up, watching Sirius warily, eyes narrowed with suspicion immediately,
because they've been fighting a lot recently.

It's not late enough for everyone to be asleep, but they're all in bed, so Remus doesn't think
it's a good sign when Sirius flicks his wand at the curtains, keeping it silent within. This
either means they're about to have a talk Sirius doesn't want anyone to overhear, or Sirius
thinks they'll eventually yell, or both. Either way, Remus is not looking forward to any
option.

"I was jealous," Sirius declares, as if he's been working himself up to the words, and now
they're bursting out of him.

Remus is pretty sure his heart stops. "What?"

"I—yeah," Sirius mumbles, a little more deflated now. He reaches up to rub the back of his
neck a bit sheepishly, and Remus is frozen, his mind racing. He doesn't dare move, too afraid
to, at this point. Jealous. Jealous? Does he mean— "I owe you an apology, Moony. This was
never about you."

"Alright," Remus says, purely because he doesn't know what else to say, and he has no idea
what's happening right now. He's proceeding with caution, unwilling to make assumptions
about anything. That way madness lies.
Sirius takes a deep breath, then releases it and drops his hand. He offers Remus a tentative
smile, tinged with regret and apology. "I was being a prick. I—I thought I was like my
family, and that didn't help the whole matter, but it turns out I am like my family...just the
wrong one than I assumed. I was talking to James, and it turns out, I'm just jealous."

"Jealous," Remus repeats, still not following.

"Of the shagging," Sirius clarifies.

"The—the shagging," Remus chokes out.

"Yeah," Sirius says, snorting. "Turns out I want to shag blokes, too. A bit ironic, that."

Remus opens and closes his mouth, staring at Sirius, feeling stricken. No. No, not this. This
can't be happening to him. This isn't fair. Sirius wants to. He wants. Oh, fucking hell, he
wants to shag a bloke. I'm a bloke, Remus' brain points out feebly, and Remus does the
mental equivalent of stuffing a pillow over it, muffling its weak cries.

This should be illegal. This should be the highest crime against nature, just that Sirius Black
happens to fancy boys while Remus is out here in love with him. Oh, that fucking cunt.
Remus could kill him. Remus could kiss him. Remus can't kiss him, and that's not fair. This
isn't fair.

In the distance, Remus can hear life roaring with laughter.

"Any bloke in particular?" Remus asks, because he's hopeless.

"No, just…in general," Sirius replies, looking thoughtful. He waggles his eyebrows. "Why?
Are you offering, Moonbeam?"
"I mean—" Remus cuts himself off, then promptly wishes for the sweet release of death. Oh,
why did he do that? He's so fucking stupid. Sirius genuinely makes him stupid. He needs to
say something, crack a joke, or—or something, but he's just sitting here, frozen in place,
absolutely mortified. Sirius is staring at him, his mouth hanging open a little bit, and Remus
scrambles for damage control. "No. Christ, no, Padfoot. I was just—it was just a joke.
Obviously not. Could you imagine?"

"No," Sirius says quickly, then frowns. "Wait, you don't have to sound so...disturbed by the
idea. You don't think I'd be good at shagging, is that it?"

"That's—I'm sure you're—" Remus wants to crawl under his bed to hide and never resurface.
Life is giggling and skipping in circles around him. "Just—just you should shag a bloke
you're actually interested in, yeah?"

"The world is so rarely simple." Sirius chuckles under his breath and shakes his head.
"There's always Pete."

Remus could cry. "Please don't shag Peter."

"Honestly, I think we'd spend too much time laughing to actually manage it," Sirius muses,
breaking out into a grin.

"Right, so...don't, maybe?" Remus mumbles pitifully.

Sirius rolls his eyes. "I'm not going to shag Peter. I'm not going to shag anyone. I'm...you
know, coming to terms with it."

"Is it—difficult for you?" Remus asks carefully. "Because of your family? I mean, I'm sure
being close with Regulus helps, but that doesn't mean the rest doesn't bother you. It's alright
if it does, Sirius. You don't have to—well, I know you like to brush that sort of shit off, but
—"
"Actually," Sirius interrupts with a small smile, "I'm—I'm okay. Genuinely. I'm used to this,
aren't I? Being things and believing things my parents would and do hate me for. I've always
seen it as an honor, you know that. But it's also...well, you're right. Being close with Regulus
helps. I don't think he's wrong for it, and getting to be good to him about it… I don't know, it
feels good, do you know what I mean? It's—it's like I'm proud of it. Of us, me and him. For
being—us."

"That's lovely, Sirius," Remus says softly, his lips curling up.

"And—and I'm proud of you, too," Sirius adds, lifting his gaze to meet Remus' eyes. "I'm
sorry if I made you think I wasn't. You didn't have to tell me, or any of us. I shouldn't have
insisted that you did. And I'm glad that you—" Sirius stops, his mouth twisting, and then he
grimaces and coughs. "Yeah, no, there's still some lingering jealousy, apparently. Maybe it's
just best we never mention the nice gardener again."

Remus huffs out an incredulous laugh. "Well, no complaints from me."

"What—" Sirius hesitates, licking his lips as he scrunches his face. "What was his name?"

"I thought you just said—"

"I know, but—I don't know."

"Levi," Remus says slowly.

Sirius' nostrils flare, and then he runs his tongue over his teeth and looks away. Under his
breath, he scoffs, "Levi," like that's the stupidest name he's ever heard. "Levi. Levi, Levi,
Levi. Lovely fucking Levi." Sirius squeezes his eyes shut, reaching up to scratch roughly at
his hair, then he blows out a deep breath and drops his hand. "Oh, I shouldn't have asked."

"Sirius."
"Did you—"

"Sirius," Remus warns.

"No, you're right. Let's just—not talk about it, at least until I've had my own Levi," Sirius
mutters, wrinkling his nose.

Remus hates that Sirius just said that. "Might be best."

"Did you love him?" Sirius blurts out anyway.

"Christ, Sirius," Remus groans.

Sirius shifts restlessly on the bed. "Well?"

"No," Remus says incredulously. Because life loves its laughs, he gets to say, yet again, "As I
already told you, it wasn't serious. I didn't love him. He has a bloody boyfriend."

"You shagged someone with a boyfriend?" Sirius breathes out, his eyes bulging in disbelief.

"What? No!" Remus rears back, then instantly realizes his mistake when Sirius stops. He just
stops and goes still.

"You—you've talked to him," Sirius murmurs. "When?"

Remus wants to bang his head against the wall. He can't fathom why they're having this
conversation, or why he even considers it a mistake. He hasn't done anything wrong. No
matter what his heart has decided, he's not actually Sirius'. There's no reason for all this
nonsense. "Yes, he wrote to me over the break. There was a chance that he could have come
for a visit, but he didn't. He has a boyfriend."

"That—that sounds more serious than you made it out to be, Remus," Sirius says, his voice
rising in pitch. He's actually starting to sound a little squeaky. "You invited him back. Oh
gods, you invited him back. You—you—"

"Yes, because I like fucking," Remus bursts out in exasperation, tossing his hands up.

Sirius releases a noise like he's just been punched, his eyes wide as he breathes out, "You
do?"

"Yes," Remus confirms. "Very, very much. That's all it was."

"You like—fucking."

"Well, I wasn't doing it because I didn't like it."

"Right. I knew that. I did know that," Sirius says rapidly, nodding vigorously. "Of course.
That makes sense."

Remus frowns at him. "Sirius, are you alright?"

"I'm—no. Yes. I'm—" Sirius just keeps nodding as he starts shifting to get off the bed. "Gods,
I'm hot. Is it—are you hot? I'm very hot. I can't breathe. Shit."

"Sirius?" Remus blinks rapidly as Sirius proceeds to launch himself out of the bed, diving
between the curtains and sucking in a sharp breath like he's winded. A beat later, Remus
pokes his head out and watches Sirius stumble towards the door. "Sirius, are you—"
"Fine," Sirius chokes out. "Just need the loo."

With that, Sirius snatches open the door and disappears through it, shutting it behind him.
Peter and James poke their heads out and swivel to look at Remus.

"Well, don't look at me. I didn't do anything," Remus says.

"What was that all about?" James asks, eyebrows raised.

"I honestly don't have a clue, Prongs," Remus admits.

Peter snorts. "What else is new?"

"Fuck off," Remus grumbles as James and Peter grin at him. With a huff, Remus moves back
into his bed and flops down. The soundtrack of life's laughter plays in his head on a loop.

He wonders if Sirius can hear it.

Hogwarts circa February, 1978

James is hitting Mulciber, and he's not stopping.

Sirius is no stranger to violence. He's seen a wide variety of violence, abuse, and neglect.
He's endured some of them. But he's never seen it from James. Honestly, Sirius never even
believed for a second that James was capable of this, and maybe that's why Sirius is so
shocked.
He's so shocked that he doesn't even have the space to rejoice in the fact that Mulciber is
clearly about to be beaten to death. That's obviously what's happening here, and James is
making no moves to hide that in the least. He just keeps hitting him.

It's grotesquely loud, each hit that connects, and Mulciber's garbled protests have grown
faint. He begged James to stop, but James simply said no, then went right back to it. Some
part of Sirius wonders if Mulciber knows he's going to die, if he's scared. Sirius is too
stunned to relish in the thought, but he knows he will later, for what Mulciber did to
Regulus.

"He's going to kill him," Evan breathes out in awe.

Beside Sirius, Pandora visibly flinches when James draws his hand back, then lets his fist
collide with Mulciber's face so hard that his head snaps to the side, a tooth falls out, and a
long string of blood drips from his mouth. Mulciber slumps, and James lets him. James just
grips his collar and stoops down over him, continuously hitting him, his face blank.

Remus hisses between his teeth and steps forward, wand flicking through the air. James goes
flying back, hitting the wall with a dull thump. Mulciber doesn't move, and Sirius isn't
entirely sure he's breathing. Sirius isn't entirely sure it would be a great loss to the world if he
wasn't.

James gives a violent blink, staring down at his hands like he's never seen them before in his
life. His knuckles are bleeding, and he can't seem to straighten his fingers out on one hand.
He looks...confused, slightly. When he looks up, he flicks his gaze over everyone, blinking in
a dazed fashion.

"You were killing him," Dorcas whispers. "James, you were going to kill him."

James looks even more confused, glancing between his hands and Mulciber, and Remus
gently says, "Alright. James, mate, you're—you're alright, yeah?" He lowers his wand and
moves forward, and Sirius watches him go, feeling more lost the farther Remus gets away
from him. "Come on, we need to get him into the infirmary."
"I'm sorry," James rasps, looking how Sirius feels.

"I know. I know, it's alright," Remus murmurs, sounding soothing. "Help me get him up.
Sirius, Peter, bang on those doors until they open. Dorcas, Pandora, Evan, be prepared to
blast through the fucking wall if we have to."

Everyone listens to Remus, because it just makes sense to listen to Remus. He seems so calm
right now, and Sirius is the farthest from calm he's ever been. It's an instinct thing, isn't it?
When the world is shifting under your feet, you cling to the nearest stable thing you can latch
onto. For Sirius—for all of them, it seems—that's Remus.

Getting into the Hospital Wing is all it takes to send Sirius spiraling again. Just one glimpse
of Regulus lying in a bed, too still. Is he alive? Is he alright? Sirius' whole body clamps with
fear, and he doesn't give a toss about anything else. He moves towards the bed, struggling to
breathe.

"Reggie?" Sirius blurts out, prepared to snatch the curtain from where they've shut it. Why
would they do that? Can't he see him? Sirius wants to see him. "Is he alright? He's not awake.
Why isn't he—"

"Mr. Black, your brother is resting, but he is alive," Dumbledore cuts in, and Sirius could
fucking weep. He feels like he's about to, actually. His little brother is alive. "Mr. Crouch was
just informing us what happened since Mr. Black was in no position to do so. You will be
more than welcome to visit him at Madame Pomfrey's discretion, but first…" His gaze flicks
away, but Sirius just keeps staring at the curtain keeping him separate from Regulus. "Ah,
that's unfortunate. Might I ask what happened to Mr. Mulciber?"

The room is silent. Sirius would sooner chew his own tongue off that implicate James, and he
knows Remus and Peter are the same. The others… Well, they're not speaking either, which
oddly doesn't surprise Sirius at all. The truth is, Regulus has some good friends. Sirius knows
that by now.

Me," James says firmly, the idiot. Of course he would. Sirius' eyes sink shut. "I happened to
him."
"Ah," Dumbledore replies, then heaves a sigh. "Minerva…"

Professor McGonagall steps forward, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Follow me, Mr.
Potter."

Sirius watches them go, and he wants to protest, to call after McGonagall and beg her to just
listen to him. She usually does, despite the fact that most people wouldn't believe him if he
said so. Sirius is generally always happy to rant to her for hours about anything and
everything. She never really has to speak at all; she can just sit there quietly and drink her tea,
humming and occasionally offering a wise comment here or there, and that's enough for him.
Sirius just wants to be heard, really, and McGonagall never fails to listen.

Of course, she does check in with him about the bigger things, about his bigger issues. She
speaks to him like he's more than just some reckless idiot running around with no idea of
where he's going in life. Sirius is pretty sure that she's one of the few adults who hasn't
forgotten what family he comes from and what issues that has given him, but maybe that's
because of how he presents himself to the world. He can fool everyone else. He can't fool her,
and he loves her for that.

Sirius has the feeling that she won't listen to him now. He also has the feeling that James
doesn't want him to speak on his behalf. Before he can figure out what to do, they both sweep
out, leaving behind a heavy silence.

The curtain around Regulus' bed ruffles, and Barty steps out. He barely gets to take four steps
before Pandora is slamming into him with a choked noise, squeezing him in a harsh hug. He
lets out an exaggerated oomph and wraps his arms around her, stroking her back. Over her
head, he meets Dorcas' gaze and gives her a tight smile. Evan shoves his shaking hands
through his hair and whirls away, cursing softly under his breath before he paces away
entirely.

"I'm fine," Barty mumbles as Pandora pulls away and Dorcas moves forward to take her
place.
"Are you?" Dorcas asks quietly when she pulls back, hands braced on his shoulders as she
searches his face.

"I'm fine," Barty insists, turning his head to watch as Evan paces back towards him. Evan
swallows harshly, and Barty's face softens. "Evan, I'm fine."

"I carried you here," Evan croaks.

Barty's lips twitch. "Was I heavy?"

"You were so cold," Evan whispers.

"Alright, come here," Barty murmurs, shifting Dorcas to the side to wave Evan over, pulling
him into a hug the moment he shuffles close enough. "You're the warm one, aren't you? Can't
be cold from here, can I? I'm fine, see?"

Evan holds onto him for a long moment, then peels back and rasps, "Regulus? Is he—"

"Yeah, he's going to be alright, mate," Barty says, despite the fact that Dumbledore has
already said so. Somehow, it seems more real coming from him.

Speaking of Dumbledore, he cuts in with, "Yes, young Mr. Black will be fine, but he needs
the rest. The eldest Mr. Black may wait here for Madame Pomfrey to allow him in, but I'd ask
that the rest of you follow me out of the Hospital Wing. I'd like a full account from everyone
of what's happened today."

"This could take a while," Dorcas mutters, but she starts shuffling along with the rest of her
friends.

Peter and Remus linger with Sirius, though. Peter reaches out to squeeze his arm. "You'll be
alright, Pads, yeah?"
"Yeah, I just—I just need to see Regulus," Sirius says, because he thinks that's all he needs
right now, and then Remus starts to pull away from him, and he's just so not okay with that at
all. "Wait. Wait, just—will you—"

"Sirius?" Remus flicks his gaze down to where Sirius has clamped down on his arm, not
letting him get far. The others slow as they glance back, but Remus lifts his gaze and looks
right at him. "What is it?"

"Stay?" Sirius chokes out, the word feeling thick in his throat, hard to push past his teeth, but
it's a necessity.

"Mr. Black," Dumbledore starts.

"Can he stay? Just—just him, please," Sirius begs, his fingers tightening on Remus' arm. "I
need—"

"I'd like to speak to him," Dumbledore insists.

Remus cuts the Headmaster a sharp look, which would be shocking at any other time. His
voice is steady and firm when he declares, like it's law, "I'm staying with him, just for a bit
longer. Talk to the rest. I'll be out there in a moment."

"Mr. Lupin—"

"I said I'm staying."

"We all saw the same things Remus saw," Peter says, crossing his arms. "Carry on,
Headmaster, we'll tell you all about it."
The others honestly don't give Dumbledore much of a choice, just continuing on without
another word. Sirius doesn't know if that makes the man angry or not, and he doesn't really
care. All that matters is that they leave, and Remus doesn't.

"Sirius," Remus says softly as soon as they're alone, or as alone as they can get with Madame
Pomfrey on the other side of the curtain with a sleeping Regulus.

"Remus, he—he told me," Sirius croaks, his eyes stinging, and he doesn't know why it's
pouring out of him here and now, but it is. "Regulus told me, and I just—I just let him go. I
laughed."

"Stop it," Remus tells him, reaching out to grab his arms and stare into his eyes. "Don't do
that, Sirius. You didn't know."

"You said I'm a good brother, but I—I don't think I am," Sirius confesses, his vision blurring
with tears. "I should have known. He could have died. I'm so scared he's dead."

"He's not. Sirius, he's not. Regulus is alive, and you're a good brother. You did everything you
could to try and save him," Remus whispers, squeezing his arms.

Sirius feels the tears fall, and it's like spilling his sins when he whimpers, "No, I didn't. I
never do."

"Alright, alright, shh," Remus says softly, so soft, just a mere breath, and he tugs on Sirius a
bit, pulling him into a hug.

Sirius practically falls into him with a wounded noise, and then he's clinging. He can't help it.
He burrows into Remus as close as he can get, thinking he'd like to crawl into him and hide
away curled up in his chest, where it's safe and Sirius can always be with him. It's a fragile
thought, and he doesn't have it within him to shy away from it now, to care if that's strange or
not. It is, and he knows it. Right now, it doesn't matter.
Remus wraps one arm around his waist and lifts the other to cradle his head with his hand,
fingers pushing into Sirius' hair. It's the easiest thing in the world for Sirius to do, to just wind
both arms around Remus' shoulders and tuck his face into the curve of Remus' throat, under
his chin. Remus holds him, and he holds him tight, like he's holding him together. Sirius feels
like he needs him to.

If there's one thing Sirius is discovering today, it's that there's no place better to break down
than in Remus' arms. Sirius, who doesn't really let himself break down very often and usually
only with James, feels as if he's been missing out, frankly. Remus is strong and warm, and he
smells nice, and Sirius finds that he doesn't want to let go, even when he's calmer. Once the
tears have stopped, and he's breathing easier, he stays right where he's at.

"I'm sorry," Sirius says hoarsely, the words muffled into Remus' neck. He isn't sure what he's
apologizing for, at this point. He has so many countless mistakes to choose from.

Remus exhales slowly and cards his fingers through Sirius' hair, a soothing gesture. "Don't
apologize, Sirius. You don't have a damn thing to apologize for."

"I didn't know. I swear I didn't know."

"I know. We all know. Regulus will know."

"He should hate me for this," Sirius mumbles. "I can't get it right, Remus. I can never get
anything right. What's wrong with me? Why can't I—"

"Stop it. Sirius, listen to me," Remus murmurs, drawing back to nudge his cheek with his
hand, making him lift his head. Sirius does, and Remus leaves his hand there, against his
cheek. Big and broad and warm. His gaze is soft, those amber eyes of his, and Sirius is too
shaken up and terrified to make sense of the tangled emotions that squirm in his stomach
because of this. "This isn't your fault. Everyone makes mistakes. I make them. James makes
them. Peter makes them. Regulus makes them. Effie, Monty, McGonagall—they all make
them. The people you love most in this world make mistakes all the time, Sirius, and so do
you. You're not like your family. You're just like us."
Sirius inhales sharply, so many emotions whipping through him that he can't make sense of
them all. His eyes are beginning to get hot and itchy again, and he wants to hide away in the
safety of Remus' hold once more, but Remus has his entire focus, gaze caught and attention
held.

"You're good, Sirius," Remus says softly, and his thumb sweeps across Sirius' cheek, tender.
"You're so very good, and everyone else can see it but you."

A broken noise leaves Sirius' mouth that he didn't even know he could make, and he can't
deal with it, not right now. He wants to sink into the words like sinking into a warm bed on a
cold night, and he also wants to squirm away from them. He can't really do either, so he just
ducks his head and pushes forward into Remus again. Remus allows it, holding him once
more, just the same as before.

They stay like that for a long time. Too long. So long that there's no denying that it's strange.
Best friends don't embrace like this, and Sirius doesn't care. Sirius never wants to stop.

They do, though. When the curtain pushes open, Madame Pomfrey stepping out, Remus and
Sirius break away from each other all that once. Sirius' focus is immediately on Regulus as he
turns away, his heart clenching as he sees him. He looks so small, but alive and breathing. He
could be sleeping, really.

"Can I see him?" Sirius asks Madame Pomfrey.

"Yes, dear," Madame Pomfrey murmurs.

"Sirius," Remus says, reaching out to grab his wrist. Remus' grip is infuriatingly delicate, as
if he needs to be careful when touching him. Some part of Sirius had hoped he would latch
on and squeeze until the frail bones in his wrist were grinding together and threatening to
snap, until there were bruises left behind that he could brush his fingers over for days after,
once Remus was back to no longer touching him at all.

Swallowing, Sirius mumbles, "Yeah?"

"I'm going to go speak with Dumbledore," Remus tells him, his voice soft. "Is that alright?"

"Yeah. Thank you for staying," Sirius whispers.

Remus slides his fingers away from Sirius and gives him a sad smile. "Of course. Anything
you need, Sirius."

Sirius watches him go, a tangled mess of emotions, but he ultimately banishes it to some dark
corner where it can't overtake him. Right now, the most important thing is Regulus. He
moves forward to the chair Madame Pomfrey has drawn up beside the bed for him, gingerly
sitting in it as he scans Regulus' face. He looks innocent and young, but maybe that's just
Sirius' biased viewpoint. That's his little brother.

Regulus' chest rises and falls at a steady pace, lips parted as he breathes. Color has returned
to his cheeks, and he looks oddly peaceful, considering everything. Sirius reaches out and
tentatively touches two fingers to Regulus' inner wrist, feeling the pulse there for several
moments.

Slowly, Sirius braces his elbows on the side of the bed with his hands threaded together and
pressed against his mouth. In complete silence, tears stream out of his eyes as he watches
Regulus breathe and thinks, over and over, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry.

Hogwarts circa February, 1978

Remus drags himself up from bed when he realizes that he's just not going to get any sleep.
Maybe once Sirius has gotten back, and James has gotten to visit Regulus, but before then?
No, there's no possible way. He's too worried about them.
It shouldn't surprise him when he finds Peter awake, sitting up in his bed and anxiously
twirling his wand over and over, his gaze fixed on James' bed like he's been taking vigil.

Peter does drag his gaze away when Remus moves closer, and he nods when Remus jerks his
head towards the bed. It's rarer for Peter or Remus to go crawling into anyone else's bed,
unlike James and Sirius, but it's not unheard of for them to hide away together and swap
whispers just like James and Sirius do. Remus closes the curtains and keeps it quiet, then
shifts to face Peter, grimacing as he folds his legs. He's the fastest runner, but it always
catches up to him afterwards.

"Couldn't sleep?" Remus asks sympathetically.

"Not even a bit," Peter admits. "I'm just—"

"Upset?"

"Angry. They don't deserve this. No one deserves this, Remus."

"I know," Remus agrees. "Trust me, Wormtail, I get it."

Peter's lips purse. "I hate that they're just—getting away with it, basically. Mulciber got
expelled, but what about Avery and Wilkes? I bet they were laughing it up in their dorm,
while Sirius and James are a fucking mess. It's not right, Moony."

"No, it's not."

"Why do they get to sleep so easily, yeah? Sod it all."

"What they need is a rude awakening. A reminder that they're not as fucking safe as they
think they are," Remus mutters bitterly, a harsh pinch in his chest.
"Yeah," Peter says.

A beat passes, and then they look at each other with the same glint in their eyes. Remus raises
his eyebrows. "Well, I'm not doing anything. Are you?"

"You know, Moony, I've got some free time," Peter replies, breaking out into a slow grin.

Fifteen minutes later, Remus is sneaking under James' cloak with a rat on his shoulder. Peter,
being Peter, knows the password to get into the Slytherin common room, thanks to his many
trips around the castle as Wormtail. He likes to go out and listen to gossip, and it's also a good
way for them to figure out the best times and places to pull pranks. Really, without Peter, they
would not be able to cause as much mischief as they do, as this just goes to show.

It's so late that it's on the cusp of morning, that in-between state where everyone is asleep,
which is the best time for this. They have this planned out so it should go smoothly, and all
that's left to do is...well, do it.

The plan is as follows:

Sneak into the Slytherin dorm where Avery, Wilkes, and Snape are—where Mulciber will
never be again. Stay hidden and place them all under sleeping charms, just to gently
encourage them to continue sleeping through everything. It won't harm them, and they'll all
wake up naturally, if not the tiniest bit later than usual, which is even better. They have to
carefully disillusion Wilkes and Avery's beds, then levitate them out and all through the castle
before putting them on the lake. Snape is escaping unscathed for three reasons.

One, because Remus doesn't participate in pranks on Snape anymore. Two, because it will
help them—as well as Sirius and James, by extension—seem more innocent if Snape goes
completely untouched. And three, because Remus and Peter can only handle two people
between them, and Snape did go to Slughorn in an attempt to save Regulus' life, for whatever
reason. Besides, Snape will have a hard enough time defending himself to his roommates for
how he wasn't involved after selling out Mulciber, as well as sleeping through people
sneaking into their dorm and doing all of this to start with.
The biggest threats to this plan is Mrs. Norris, Filch, and any other stray person up at this
hour, which is why they have the map and plan to use every secret route and abandoned
corridor they know. Between him and Peter, they can do it.

And they do. It takes some careful maneuvering, some sneaking, and at least one close call
(genuinely, does Filch ever fucking sleep?), but they nonetheless do find themselves
eventually watching Avery and Wilkes drift out along the surface of the lake on their beds,
sleeping peacefully.

"Moony?"

"Yes, Wormtail?"

"I think I'll be able to enjoy a kip now."

"Me too, mate, me too."

So, they go right back into the castle, sneaking back into their dorm the same way they left it,
under the cloak and as a rat. Remus puts the cloak away, Peter shifts back, and they share
pleasant smiles before separating to slip into their own beds for just a few hours of rest.

It's a short bit of rest, though. Just enough to rejuvenate them both before Sirius comes
banging his way into the dorm and James drags himself out of bed, looking more exhausted
than he did before he even went to sleep. Peter and Remus share a look as they all groggily
move around to get ready, and with that one look, they agree to leave it for a surprise,
something to hopefully brighten James and Sirius' day.

It happens on the way down to breakfast. There's a rush of students heading out the castle, so
naturally, everyone follows to see what all the fuss is about.
Remus couldn't have planned it better himself, and he did sort of plan it with Peter. They all
arrive in just enough time to see Wilkes wake up out in the middle of the lake. He lets out an
ear-splitting shriek that makes Avery bolt up and promptly flail, overturning and hitting the
water with a splash.

Beside Remus, Sirius' entire face lights up as he huffs out a soft, amazed laugh and whispers,
"Brilliant. Fucking brilliant."

Remus can't help but stare at him, watching him laugh, seeing his eyes sparkle, such a vast
improvement to the previous night that Remus' chest grows warm. Even James is chuckling,
though it's a lot weaker than Remus would like, but he knows why. There's no doubt in
Remus' mind that James is head over heels in love with Regulus; the display with Mulciber
cemented it in Remus' mind. The problem is, Remus doesn't know how Regulus feels in
return. It's always James chasing after him, being affectionate, absolutely lighting up the
moment Regulus is around, or even simply mentioned in conversation.

Honestly, Remus is tempted to tell him, but if Regulus doesn't feel the same… Well, Remus
doesn't want James to get hurt. He really doesn't. The safest option is trying to keep James
from getting in too deep, though he suspects that ship has sailed. All he can do is remind
James that it's fake, even if he may not like it, because Remus desperately wants him to be
cautious. He loves with everything in him, and there's nothing as tragic as seeing that wasted
on someone who doesn't want it.

Wilkes is still bellowing at the top of his lungs, clutching at his bed and demanding that
someone, anyone, save him. Avery has succeeded in crawling back onto his bed, drenched
and most likely shivering. Remus remembers how Regulus looked when James was cradling
him, pale and blue-lipped, probably feeling like ice to the touch. Remus has no sympathy for
Avery or Wilkes, not one fucking bit.

Remus briefly meets Peter's eyes. Their lips twitch, and they both look away at the same time
to go back to watching what matters, Peter's gaze taking in Avery and Wilkes while Remus'
eyes settle on Sirius' bright smile.

Hogwarts circa February, 1978

Sirius is trying his absolute best to have a good day, simply because he knows that one, Effie
would want him to, and two, Regulus would be agitated if he doesn't.

It's difficult. Despite the way the morning started with Avery and Wilkes on the lake, the
impact of Regulus' limp form being lifted from it the day prior is lingering. The important bit
to focus on is that Regulus is alive. He's fine, or as fine as he can be, and he doesn't hate
Sirius. I don't want to be angry at you anymore, Regulus had said, and Sirius gets that,
because he feels the same. It is nice being alright with each other. Sirius thinks it might be
one of the nicest things in his life.

So, yes, Sirius is trying. They're all trying. Remus and Peter have been a big help, a steady
source of comfort for him and James. As for James, the poor sod has been repeatedly rushing
to the Hospital Wing, trying to see Regulus. He finally manages it and stays for a while, as
far as Sirius can tell. While he's away, Sirius skives off with Remus and Peter to go catch up
on rest they all desperately need, at this point.

The day has its highs and lows. Marlene announces to the whole common room that she's a
lesbian, which Sirius finds absolutely fucking brilliant. James and Lily seem to come together
to combine forces and help get a queer club started, which Sirius also finds absolutely
fucking brilliant. Besides, there's nothing the two of them can't accomplish when they're
working together, honestly. It's a shame it took them this long to realize it. They really would
make for a lovely couple.

As for the lows, Sirius repeatedly deals with a sudden onset of anxiety, his heart abruptly
racing out of nowhere, his stomach feeling tangled into a hard knot that hurts. The only thing
that helps is seeing Regulus' name on the map, planted firmly in the Hospital Wing and not
heading towards the lake. Once, he even needs to go there, just to reassure himself. Peter
comes with him, and Madame Pomfrey allows them in for a few minutes as long as they
promise not to wake her patient. Regulus is doing a lot of sleeping, but Sirius figures he's
earned it after nearly fucking dying.

Another low is Remus.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Are you talking about the actual moon or Remus?"

"I don't even know anymore."

What the fuck is Sirius supposed to do about that? Now is not the time to have this problem.
Sirius refuses. He's not doing it; he's just not. It wouldn't be a problem at all if he wasn't
viscerally aware that the only fucking place he wants to be right now—all the time, really,
which is distressing—is the inviting circle of Remus' arms. Oh, why did Remus have to hold
him yesterday, like that, like he's the home Sirius has been aching for his whole fucking life?
That's not fair.

So, Sirius is doing the smart thing and avoiding thinking about it. To do that, he's taken to
trying his hand at the patronus charm again. Before what happened with Regulus yesterday,
he managed to get an actual shield by thinking of the night he left home, drawing on that
sense of freedom he felt. He's delighted by it, by the fact that maggots didn't burst from his
wand and devour him, but he's also determined to get a full corporeal. He will do it, if it's the
last thing he ever does.

Remus and Peter are currently working on something for class on a bed together, muttering
back and forth, and Sirius lowers his wand with a deep exhale. Trying the charm takes a lot
out of the caster, and Sirius just so happens to buy into Remus' idea that chocolate will make
him feel better. He also just so happens to have two chocolate frogs left, one he's saving for
Remus, because he knows he's run out already.

Just as Sirius goes to get it, James comes bursting into the dorm with a scowl, very clearly in
a strop. He heads right for his bed and starts angrily fluffing his pillow.

Right. Sirius grabs his chocolate frog, sharing a look with Remus and Peter, who stare at him.
Oh, so it has to be Sirius who pokes the angry Potter, does it? Yeah, that's fair.

"What's got you into a strop?" Sirius asks, taking the dive to see what's wrong. He leans up
against one post casually and twirls his wand between his fingers as he bites the head off his
chocolate frog clamped in his other hand.
"I'm not in a strop," James responds, sounding tetchy.

Sirius looks over at Peter and Remus with wide eyes and raises eyebrows, still chewing. As
he swallows, he says, "Oh, I know a strop when I see one. I practically invented them, even if
Remus perfected them. Nice to see you jumping on the train. We're just missing Pete now."

"I'm not in a fucking strop!" James bursts out, and alright then. Well, that's...new. This is sort
of delightful, actually.

"Oh, no, not at all," Sirius replies, coughing out a laugh, then smothering it by stuffing the
rest of his chocolate frog into his mouth, amused.

James, who is repeatedly making up his bed for some reason, smacks his pillow down and
mutters, "Piss off, I'm—I'm fine. I'm in a lovely mood. I'm happy. I'm the happiest."

"Yeah, we can see that," Sirius says sarcastically, watching James yank at his tucked in sheets
just to tuck them in over again. "Just the happiest, Prongs."

"You can't let him," James bursts out, and Sirius' eyebrows rise at how angry he sounds.
"You're his older brother; it only makes sense that you'd be—you wouldn't let him end up
with some—some prick after me."

Sirius stares at him. Oh, so this is about Regulus. Right, well, sure. "We're in a strop about
Regulus. I see."

"It can't be anyone who's—who won't respect him," James declares. "The bloke has to respect
him when he says no about anything, doesn't matter what it is, and respect that he'll just say
no to test him sometimes, to make sure that he'll respect him, and that's alright. There's
nothing wrong with it."

"Right," Sirius says. "Sorry, I'm trying so hard to follow along, but I have no idea what we're
talking about. I mean, I agree, of course, because it's you, but I need some clarification."
A muscle in James' jaw twitches. "Regulus' next boyfriend."

"First," Remus murmurs.

"What?" James cuts his eyes to Remus, and Sirius purses his lips at how sharp James' gaze is
right now.

There's caution in Remus' tone as he says, "His first boyfriend. Not his next. You're not
actually his boyfriend, James."

"I know that. Don't you think I fucking know that, Remus?" James bites out. "That's not—
you know what I bloody well meant, and that's not even the point."

Sirius...doesn't like this. James has never been so harsh to Remus before, not about anything,
and honestly? Well, it's a bit stupid, but Sirius is gripped with the need to defend him.

"Hey," Sirius says, reaching out to whack James on the side of the head, not too hard but
firmly enough that James blinks at him, startled. Sirius raises his eyebrows. "Lay off Moony.
He didn't do anything."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot that only you get to—" James halts.

Silence falls, and Sirius' eyebrows jerk up higher. Well, he doesn't have to point it out. Isn't
there some sort of unspoken rule not to point it out? Yes, alright, so Sirius may fight with
Remus a lot. He knows. He also wishes they didn't fight so much, but Sirius can't explain it,
how it feels like it takes up space for something else, something they can't do.

This is not to be confused with bickering, because that's something else entirely. That's fun.
Sirius loves that, possibly a bit too much. Still, Sirius doesn't appreciate the fact that James,
his best friend, is drawing attention to things he knows Sirius doesn't want attention drawn to
—or should know, at least. They've all been on edge since yesterday, and that makes it so
easy for Sirius to cock his head, silently daring James to continue. If he wants to have a go,
they'll have a go; they both could use the chance to release some tension, honestly, and Sirius
would do this for James in a heartbeat.

He'd let James beat the everloving shit out of him if that's what he needed, and still get up to
hug him after. James wouldn't, but that's besides the point.

"What? Go on, mate, finish what you were saying," Sirius urges, watching him with clear
eyes.

"I'm so scared right now," Peter whispers, which honestly makes Sirius feel a little bad.

James blows out a breath and covers his face, scrubbing both hands up and down as he
groans. When he drops his hands limply to his sides he miserably mutters, "Sorry. I was
being a prick. I'm just—I'm not having a good day, I suppose."

"It's understandable," Remus comments, his voice soft. "After what happened yesterday with
Regulus…"

Sirius reaches out and taps James' arm, drawing his gaze. His heart clenches when James
looks at him sadly. "It's alright, mate. We're all pricks sometimes. No shame in it. If you need
to have a go, have a go at me, if anyone. I'll still love you afterwards, I swear it."

"I don't want to have a go. I want to have a good day."

"Well, how can I help? Getting over the strop is usually the first step, so let's get on with that,
yeah? The first—er, the next boyfriend; that's what you were carrying on about. Go on."

James' face twists into that unusual scowl again, and then he proceeds to go on a tangent
about all the things Regulus' next boyfriend has to be, and also what he can't be.
Regulus' next boyfriend has to enjoy stargazing, and like Quidditch, and keep Regulus warm
(?), and tolerate his friends. He can't be taller than Regulus, or shorter, or even the same
height—which is, frankly, the most baffling thing Sirius has ever heard in his life. Really,
Sirius just secretly thinks that James feels protective over Regulus, and Sirius gets that,
because he is, too. As much as he wants to support Regulus falling in love and being gay to
his heart's content, he thinks he'd struggle with it in reality, because he'd be busy worrying
that some prick was too focused on snogging Regulus to actually care about not breaking his
very fragile heart.

Regulus has been through enough as of late, honestly, so adding heartbreak to the mix is the
last thing Sirius wants to see happen. With James, he doesn't have to worry about that, at
least. In fact, Sirius actually likes that they're fake dating, to be honest. They've really made
each other very happy, from what Sirius can tell, so he's glad they're close.

Of course, there are some things that James is not happy about, and Sirius discovers one such
thing now when he makes the mistake of asking if he'll get on with Regulus' next boyfriend,
and James says, with startling ferocity, "Absolutely fucking not. He can't be your friend. I'm
your friend. No."

This leads Sirius into sitting James down and gently prying out of him the real source of his
problems at the moment, which seems to come down to feeling replaceable. Sirius could
laugh, just at the ridiculous idea that James Potter could ever be replaced. It seems as if the
thing that brought this on was Regulus' friends, and he's reminded viscerally of the fact that,
yes, Regulus has good friends, but specifically to him first and foremost. And, really, that's
how most close friends are, that hierarchy of loyalty; Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James are
guilty of the same. Still, when it's making James feel bad, Sirius doesn't at all approve.

They all suitably reassure him as much as they can, as any group of best mates should, but
this is clearly a very low point in the day for James—and them all, by extension. So, Sirius
tries to invite a new high point for all of them by repeating word-for-word what Effie told
him about focusing on the positives, and bless Peter Pettigrew, because he jumps right up and
joins Sirius in this endeavor without hesitating.

Peter has gotten the Anti-Alohomora Charm down, after working on it for days with Sirius
helping him as much as he could. The amount of times Peter has come running up to him to
ask Sirius to unlock something (Sirius is the best at unlocking things, mostly because he had
to learn to be, thanks to his parents), only for his face to repeatedly fall each time Sirius
actually managed to… Well, Sirius is just as delighted as Peter at the fact that he's gotten it.

When Sirius is asked to present a positive, he goes back to the very start of his day. "Hm,
Avery and Wilkes faces this morning out on the lake. I don't know who did it, but I'd like to
thank them for it. That was the highlight of my day."

"Oh, is that so?" Peter asks, sounding giddy, and he cackles as he inclines his head
significantly towards Remus.

"What? Remus?" Sirius gasps, whipping towards him. "Did you actually? Was it you,
really?"

Remus' lips twitch, that mild look of mischief sparkling in his lovely eyes. "Peter and I
slipped out last night. Had ourselves a little adventure."

"And you didn't take me?" James sputters in offense.

"You were sleeping," Remus says softly. "We didn't want to wake you, James.

James groans. "I wasn't, though. I was just pretending to!"

"Oh. Well, we didn't know," Peter says apologetically. "You just seemed so sad, and Sirius
was so upset, and what happened to Regulus was so awful, so we… Well, we decided to start
today off with a laugh for everyone."

"Pete, I could fucking kiss you right now," Sirius declares, grinning and fighting the urge to
run laps around the room with how fucking delighted by this he is.

Peter chuckles. "But Remus did most of the work."

"Remus, I could fucking kiss you right now," Sirius corrects, the words falling out before he
thinks twice of it.

"Do it," Remus says.

Sirius is still laughing when those words register, but the laughter catches in his throat the
moment he makes sense of them. Do it, Remus said. Do it? Sirius thinks, picturing it, and he
shouldn't. Oh, he really shouldn't imagine it, but he is, and his brain is very, very vivid when
painting the scene. How easy it would be to just take three steps towards him, stoop down to
meet him, and—no. No, absolutely not.

"What?" Sirius whispers, feeling no different than he did when Remus hinted at shagging him
—except he didn't mean it.

Remus rolls his eyes. "A joke, Padfoot."

"Oh," Sirius wheezes, ridiculously winded, and he's going to need Remus to stop making
these types of jokes. It's not funny, playing with a bloke's emotions like this. Sirius feels like
he needs to go lie down for a fucking week.

"A positive," Remus says casually. "I...don't have a positive. How shocking. Christ, I'm a sad
sod."

"No, no, hold on," Sirius protests, recovering because he has just the thing for this. He nearly
trips over his feet rushing over to his bed, where he feels around for the last chocolate frog,
then takes it over to Remus with a triumphant grin.

"Oh, is this for me?" Remus asks, reaching out to snatch it before Sirius even answers.

Sirius laughs. "Yes, it's for you, Moony. I knew you'd run out, so I saved the last for you."
"Well, there's my positive decided for me, then," Remus murmurs, visibly pleased, and Sirius
bites down on his lip to try and smother his grin.

"Reckon that makes you Sirius' valentine," Peter muses, and Sirius nearly swallows his
tongue.

"What?" Sirius blurts out.

Remus shoots Peter a sharp look. "Shut up, Wormtail."

"Oh, you know," Peter continues lightly, grinning at Sirius and not shutting up at all, "it's just
that Remus said he'd be anyone's valentine if they got him a chocolate frog, which you've just
done. Congratulations, Pads."

"You said that?" Sirius asks in disbelief. "That's all it takes for you? Merlin, Remus, have
some standards, mate."

"I have standards!" Remus protests.

"Oh, he does, trust me," Peter says. "Don't worry, Sirius, I'm sure you meet them all. In fact,
I'd say—"

"Nothing," Remus cuts in harshly. "You'd say nothing, Peter. That's what you'd say." He
narrows his eyes at Peter, who purses his lips, then hums and holds his hands up in surrender.
Sirius looks between them, confused, and Remus focuses on him. "Thank you for the
chocolate frog, Padfoot. Are you sure you don't want it? You had one earlier."

"Oh, no, it's fine. That one is yours. I just had one before while I was taking a break from the
patronus charm," Sirius says.
"How is that coming, then?" Peter asks.

Sirius hums. "Really well, sort of. I managed a shield."

"Brilliant," Remus blurts out, despite the fact that literally all of them managed that before
Sirius did. The praise makes Sirius perk up, standing taller and beaming. "You didn't mention
it to anyone. Or not me. That's lovely, Sirius, truly. Does James know? James?"

They all turn to see James blink as he looks up, clearly having no clue what they're all talking
about. "Sorry. What?"

"I was explaining why I was eating the chocolate frog before," Sirius tells him, eyebrows
furrowed. "Still trying the patronus charm. I think I've almost got the full corporeal. I
managed a shield yesterday before—you know."

"That's brilliant." James smiles and sits forward, but his smile is tight, much to Sirius'
concern. Is he still upset about feeling replaceable? "Go on, show us, then."

"Don't laugh at me when I don't get it," Sirius mutters, wrinkling his nose as he draws his
wand.

"Can I ask what memory you're using?" Remus murmurs, and Sirius freezes as he looks at
him. He doesn't think he has a traditional happy memory, but it's the only thing that has ever
come close to working so far. "You don't have to tell me, Sirius, it's—"

"The night I left home," Sirius cuts in quietly, dropping his gaze. "It's not really—I know it
seems unhappy, in a way, but it's also… I mean, that's when I was free."

Remus is looking at him when he finds the will to lift his gaze, and he looks like he
understands. "It doesn't necessarily have to be a happy memory. Mine's not."
"What's yours?" Sirius asks, then remembers that Remus doesn't want him to know
everything about him. Sirius tries to respect it. "Sorry, you don't have to tell me that,
obviously."

"It's fine." Remus clears his throat, holding Sirius' gaze. "It's a bit ironic, really, but…when
you all found out I was a werewolf. Figured it out, more like."

James looks surprised. "But you were distraught."

"I know," Remus agrees, snorting. "What I thought was the end of the best part of my life
turned out to be the beginning. More than just you lot eventually making it easier on me
during a full, and having the relief of not having to hide, but also...it didn't change anything.
Not for any of you, and until that moment—that exact moment—I could never be sure that
the best part of my life was real and would stay, if my secret ever got out. But, because of
that, I had confirmation."

Sirius feels his chest grow warm, just knowing how important they all are to Remus. He's
included in that. Him. Despite everything, Sirius is a part of Remus' happiest memories, even
when the happy memories aren't that happy at all. Of course Remus would understand. That
makes so much sense.

"So, you get it?" Sirius murmurs. "That it doesn't necessarily have to be—happy. You
understand?"

"I understand, Padfoot."

"It's the only thing that really works. The closest I've ever come to it. But it's still not…"

"Enough?" Remus suggests, when Sirius can't find the words.

Sirius sighs and nods wearily. "Yeah. I don't know why."

"Regulus," James announces. "That's what's off about it. I'm sure it'd be enough, but you were
leaving him behind too, and you weren't happy about that part."

"Oh," Sirius breathes out, something immediately clicking in his brain. He inhales sharply.
"Regulus. Of course. Not the night I left, but the night he did. James, you're brilliant!" He
stands up straight, releasing a soft laugh of pure amazement, and declares, "Expecto
Patronum!"

And it's not the feeling of freedom he got from leaving his family that fills his mind now. It's
how it felt to have Regulus come running to him when he needed help, because he knew
Sirius was a good person who wouldn't turn him away. It's how it felt to have Regulus with
him, despite everything, because that's his little brother and he loves that little shit. It's how it
felt to have Regulus know he was safe, so long as Sirius was there, a source of comfort and
protection. It's the freedom from his family, and still getting to have Regulus despite it all.

Sirius will never be able to describe the pure elation that explodes through him when a
blurred form bursts free from his wand and takes off running around the room like it was
desperate to do it the entire time. Sirius would cry, if he wasn't so busy laughing in joy,
utterly euphoric. He's been working on that for months, so fucking worried that he wouldn't
manage it because he wasn't pure of heart, which is so much more important than being
Toujours Pur.

Sirius is still grinning as his patronus circles back around to come sit by his feet, and then
he's blinking as he stares down at the translucent, glowing form of...Moony?

Well, what the fuck? All that work Sirius put in, and he doesn't even get his own patronus?
He has the same one as Remus! Not that it's a bad one, really. Sirius finds the patronus form
of Moony absolutely adorable, if not really confusing. Shouldn't he have his own? Did he do
it wrong? Can it be done wrong?

"Is that...Moony?" Peter asks. He glances at Sirius almost suspiciously. "Did you steal
Remus' patronus?"
"No!" Sirius protests, then falters. Did he? Oh, that would be something he'd do by complete
accident. "I mean...no? I don't think so? It's not the exact same as Remus'." This is a lie, but
Sirius isn't above lying. "His is just a wolf."

"Yours is also a wolf," James points out, the git. Why is he always pointing out things?

"Right, but that's specifically Moony," Sirius declares, pointing his wand to where his
patronus is sitting next to him, very obviously Moony. They all recognize him, just the same
as they recognized him when Remus cast his patronus.

Peter snorts and points this out, because he's as bad as James, honestly. "Remus' is also
Moony."

"Nah, his can be just any old wolf. I've claimed Moony for myself," Sirius decides, because
it's not as if Remus even likes his own patronus. Sirius likes it. He wants to keep it and be
proud of it, if Remus won't, and this is an easy solution, it seems like. Maybe this is why
Sirius has it, to properly appreciate it. He glances over at Remus with a grin, only for his
smile to fade. Remus is staring at Sirius' patronus with fixed intensity. "Remus? I'm only
joking, mate. Obviously yours can be Moony and mine can be—some other wolf that looks
remarkably similar. It's fine. Two people can't both have the same patronus, so if you really
want—"

Remus cuts in to whisper, "Yes, they can."

"They can?" Sirius asks, startled. He didn't know that.

"Yes," Remus says softly, still just staring at Sirius' patronus, and Sirius wishes he would
stop, because the look on his face is making Sirius nervous. Sirius then immediately takes it
back and wishes Remus would go back to looking at it when his gaze snaps up and focuses
on Sirius instead.

Oh, the look on his face, in his eyes… Sirius can't make sense of it, but it's so intense that
Sirius breaks out into goosebumps all over his body, his hair standing on end. His body is
responding before he can even work out what any of it means, heart racing and a shiver
threatening to work its way down his spine. Something is happening. Something has already
happened, and Sirius missed it.

Sirius reflexively takes a step back, his mouth dry and his head a mess. Oh, what happened?
Sirius doesn't know, and he isn't sure he wants to know, at this point. "Remus?"

Remus is suddenly rising to full height, coming off the bed, and Sirius immediately struggles
to breathe. He feels like he's caught in a trap with Remus' eyes on him, and he's—he's hot
again, all over, a squirming sensation rioting in his stomach. Remus comes towards him, and
Sirius starts automatically backing up, because they don't do this. They don't get close, and
they don't—they don't—

Whatever they don't do, Remus clearly doesn't give a toss about any of it, because his hands
come up to cradle Sirius' face, and then his mouth follows suit to cradle Sirius' own.

It's like the world bottoms out from under Sirius' feet, and he's falling, and the weightlessness
of it is immediately a thrill he's addicted to. All of his fear, his worry of being strange, his
refusals and running—all of it becomes inconsequential and meaningless. Remus' lips press
into his, a rough, determined kiss that isn't shy in the least. Their teeth clack almost violently,
and Remus snogs with tongue, sinful and hot and intense, better than anything Sirius has ever
felt in his fucking life. He can't even blame himself for whimpering like a pathetic idiot and
throwing himself into the kiss with truly embarrassing eagerness. Gods, he can't help it.

This is very clearly not a joke to Remus, because he isn't deterred from what he wants to do,
which is apparently get Sirius horizontal in a bed as quickly as fucking possible. Sirius is so
okay with that, actually. He can hardly make sense of anything as Remus walks him back and
makes him stumble into bed, through curtains, and it doesn't matter because Remus just
follows him down.

Remus' hands grip his hips, clamping down, and then he fully just hauls Sirius further up the
bed without even breaking the kiss. Sirius' brain doesn't even know where to start with that,
honestly, so scrambled and screeching so loud that he's almost saved from hearing the pitiful
moan that escapes him in response to Remus just moving him around as he likes. Oh, fucking
hell, why would he do that? Sirius is never going to recover from that. Sirius isn't sure how it
didn't kill him.
Sirius is somehow still alive, despite all of this, and he's so very grateful for that when Remus
breaks the kiss for the sole purpose of pushing his fingers into his hair to tip his head back so
he can get his mouth on Sirius' throat. It feels so good that Sirius can't be still, struck with the
inexplicable need to crawl right out of skin, to squirm, to just bloody fly apart and combust
on the spot. Remus' fingers tighten in Sirius' hair, and he drops his weight down on him just a
bit, not holding himself up as much and finally pinning Sirius to the bed like Sirius has been
essentially begging him to without the words, yanking at Remus' shoulders and digging his
boot into the back of Remus' calf instead.

As soon as Remus' weight settles on him, Sirius chokes out an enlightened, "Oh," because
that all-encompassing feeling of him, being blanketed by him, the comforting reassurance of
the pressure of his weight—it's exactly what Sirius imagines it feels like to step into a loving
home with a sigh of relief.

Sirius has to kiss him for that, so he does. He pats eagerly at the side of Remus' head, his
hands shaking so badly that he feels faint. Fortunately for him, Remus is accommodating
enough to halt the deep exploration of Sirius' neck with his tongue and teeth that he seems
invested in currently to lift his head, and then Sirius can reach his mouth with his own, and
they're right back to snogging for a long, long time.

It isn't until Sirius goes from being worried that he's going to die to believing that he's already
dead and this is the reward he's getting in the afterlife that they separate again, and Sirius is
panting, dazed as he realizes he's alive. Oh, fuck, he has never felt more alive than he does
right now.

"Remus, what," Sirius chokes out, staring up at him with his mouth hanging open. "What is
happening? What—"

"Sirius," Remus says gently, "you need to dash away your patronus. It's—it's getting a bit
uncomfortably bright."

"I—what? What?" Sirius sputters, because that's not at all the explanation he was hoping for.

Remus shifts a little to the side, squinting one eye as the glow of Sirius' patronus spills out so
brightly that it's literally invading the gaps between the curtains. If anyone was out there,
they'd be blinded. "You're...very happy right now."
Sirius can feel his face start to burn with mortification, and Remus tucks his lips in as if he's
trying not to smile. Sirius groans and curses under his breath as he pushes a bit at the broad
shoulders under his hands, making space so he can lift up and fumble around for his wand
that he'd dropped onto the bed somewhere at some point. As soon as Remus backs away from
him a bit, putting space between them, Sirius' patronus gets visibly dimmer, which is so
humiliating that Sirius doesn't even know what to do about it. Remus' eyebrows shoot up, and
there's humor dancing in his eyes, the fucking cunt.

"Oh, don't look so fucking pleased with yourself," Sirius snaps, purely because he's flustered
right now. "You're the one who snogged me. You did that, so—so—"

"Did you know," Remus says mildly, "that one's patronus can match another's if they just so
happen to be—how was it put? Ah, yes, be in unchanging, eternal love with them? Or have
an unwavering infatuation, but you know, I'm honestly not fussed either way. Interesting
thing, that."

Sirius stares at him, his insides feeling like ice. He freezes in place, pure terror whipping
through him immediately. He has Remus' patronus. He has it, and he just—he just showed
Remus that he has it. Alarms blare through his mind as loud as they ever have. No. This can't
be happening to him. This isn't fair.

"Sirius," Remus calls gently, dragging him out of the uproar of his own mind. His gaze is so
soft, so tender.

"Maybe…" Sirius swallows harshly. "Maybe I just—maybe it just means...platonic love?"

Remus quirks an eyebrow at him.

"It could," Sirius insists. "You don't know. Eternal, unchanging love between mates. What do
we know about magic, really? It could mean that. It—it—"
"Oh, well, if it's just that, then forget all the snogging. I'll just go, shall I?" Remus says flatly,
pointing towards the curtain and starting to lift up further as if he's going to leave.

Sirius' hands snap out to fist the front of his jumper and drag him back as he blurts out, rather
pathetically, "Wait, no, don't do that. Gods, please don't stop touching me."

"Well, this isn't very platonic touching, Sirius."

"I know. I know, I just—"

"Make up your mind, would you?" Remus murmurs as he sinks down into him, hands sliding
up Sirius' arms.

"You're going to kill me. I'm going to die." Sirius shudders and squeezes his eyes shut, not
watching what his hands are doing, but feeling them slip underneath Remus' jumper. Fucking
shit, he is firm. Oh, that's not fair.

Remus blows out a deep breath and rests his forehead against Sirius', the both of them
breathing together for a moment. "I don't know what's going on in your head. You already
cast the patronus. I saw it. What are you so scared of?"

"Me," Sirius confesses in a whisper. "Aren't you, Remus?"

"I'm not scared of you, Sirius," Remus says softly, practically speaking against his mouth.

Sirius' breath hitches, and he slips his hand around Remus' back beneath Remus' jumper,
snatching him down into a kiss, and this time, they don't resurface for a long time.

There's not much talking after that.

Hogwarts circa February, 1978

Remus wakes up alone.

Well, life loves its laughs, doesn't it?

Sighing, Remus stares at the space in the bed next to him that Sirius was occupying when he
fell asleep. Sirius had fallen asleep first, exhausted, mouth slack and body slumped like he
was utterly boneless. Remus flops over on his back and tosses his arm over his face, his chest
feeling tight.

That was singularly the most impulsive thing Remus has ever done in his entire life, but in
his defense, he had a good reason! There was literal, tangible proof right in front of him that
Sirius would be more than agreeable to it, and he most certainly was more than agreeable to
everything. Remus just… Well, he's in love with Sirius. He wants him. The moment he had
hope that couldn't be squashed…

Oh, Remus is so stupid. He feels so fucking stupid. Of course it's not as simple as a matching
patronus charm and a night full of really unfairly spectacular shagging. Why did he do that?
He knew better. He's always known better.

As cautious as he's been for so long, only for everything to go up into smoke, just like that.
Remus stifles a groan.

Slowly, Remus forces himself to get up. He doesn't want to, but he knows there's nothing else
to be done. James is up already, moving around as he gets ready, and he looks up when
Remus crawls out of bed. The grin that's on his face promptly falls the moment he takes one
look at Remus.

"Where's Sirius?" James asks instantly.

"Don't ask me," Remus mutters. "I woke up, and he was gone."

James' lips press into a thin line. "Did you two talk last night at all, or was it all shagging?"

"It was mostly shagging, yeah," Remus admits with a sigh.

"Right. Damn you, Padfoot," James whispers, squeezing his eyes shut, and then he blows out
a deep breath and shakes his head before turning on his heel and stomping out.

Remus watches him go, then just sits down on the edge of his bed for a bit, world-weary. He's
so tired of life laughing at him. He wishes it would shut up every once in a while.

For several moments, Remus just considers crawling back into bed and hiding away from the
world forever, but he knows that won't change anything. He heaves yet another sigh and
stands up, moving around to get ready as well. He follows the same path James must have
taken, keeping his head down as he moves through the common room. His heart is resting in
the pit of his stomach, where it sank down and threatens to never find its way back up again.

And then Remus steps out of the portrait in just enough time to catch Sirius rambling
frantically to James, only for Sirius to immediately see him, go silent, and stare at him with
wide eyes. Remus freezes in place. The whole world seems to, and even life stops laughing to
listen.

In the next second, Sirius blurts out, "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot, I'm rotten and I know it, but I'm
quite pathetically in love with you, please don't leave me ever."

The words are released in a rush, a continuous stream that seems to just fall out of him and
leave him breathless. Remus' heart proves him wrong and soars, even as it clicks in his head
what's going on. What are you so scared of? Remus had asked. Me, Sirius had replied. Remus
understands now.
It draws a quiet sigh out of Remus, just because it's genuinely one of the most tragic things in
the world that Sirius can't see how truly good he is. He thinks he's made for ruining things,
that he can't do anything right, that there's something wrong with him—and it's not true. Not
for the first time, Remus wishes Sirius could see himself through his eyes.

Still, Sirius doesn't give up, no matter what he believes about himself. That Sirius Black
brand of defiance. Oh, Remus loves it. Remus loves him. His lips curl up as he holds out his
hand, and life is quiet as Sirius surges forward to take it.

Remus marches Sirius right back to the dorm by his hand like a man on a mission, because he
is. He throws open the door and briefly falters when he sees Peter up and moving around.

"I hate to do this to you, mate, but I'm going to need you to go," Remus tells him bluntly.

"You two are going to have to learn to use silencing charms eventually," Peter says with a
wave of his hand.

"Pete, there's not enough silencing charms in the world to keep you from hearing all the
screaming Sirius is about to do," Remus declares without missing a beat, and Sirius releases a
choked noise before his head drops down in between Remus' shoulders, leaning into him like
he can't hold himself up.

Peter's mouth drops open slightly, gaping at Remus, and then he jolts when Remus raises his
eyebrows at him. "Oh. Right. I'll just—yeah." He gathers his things and rushes towards the
door, pausing long enough to clap Sirius on the shoulder and whisper, "Steady on, mate."

"Cheers," Sirius replies weakly, his voice faint.

As soon as the door shuts, Remus pulls Sirius further into the dorm and presses him back
against the first available bedpost, which may or may not be James'. Well, what he doesn't
know won't hurt him. Remus is just going to kiss Sirius anyway, which he does. Christ, that
never gets old.
Sirius is so responsive. He's clingy, like he wants Remus just as much as Remus wants him,
and Remus likes it. Frankly, Remus can't get enough of it. And Sirius' mouth is just—well.
Remus has spent years looking at it and thinking it was unfair how lovely it is, yearning for
it, and it all feels worth it to have it now. He's claimed it for himself, dammit, and the steady
pulse of victory in his chest almost drowns out the harsh thump of his heartbeat. Remus
doesn't want to stop, but he's giving life no further chances to laugh at him, so he pulls away.

"Come here," Remus breathes out, tugging Sirius away from James' bed and into his own.

"I've—I've never said that to anyone before," Sirius says breathlessly as Remus pushes him
back into the bed.

"I know," Remus murmurs.

Sirius swallows and rubs his hands down the front of Remus' chest, then back up, seeming to
draw some sort of comfort from the motion. "It's not—I didn't mean it...platonically."

"No? Really?" Remus asks, fighting a smile as he raises his eyebrows and pretends to be
shocked. "But I thought you felt eternal, unchanging platonic love for me, Sirius. And what
about all that platonic shagging we did last night?"

"You are such a cunt," Sirius chokes out, his face red even as he huffs a laugh. "What did you
expect, Remus? Do you know how dangerous this is? What if I muck it up? What if—"

"Sirius," Remus cuts in, his face softening.

"I can't—I can't muck it up and lose you, do you understand? Don't let me," Sirius whispers.
"Please don't let me. I don't mean to, I never mean to, and I still—"

Remus shifts to lay down beside him, catching his hands and pressing them against his chest,
keeping him still. "Listen to me. You're going to make mistakes, Sirius. So am I. We both
will, and we'll do what we always do. We'll learn from them and keep trying. We may always
have problems, but I promise you, we will always be working through them."

"Yeah?" Sirius searches his eyes, then bites his lip. "You don't have to say it back, Remus. I—
I know it's different for you. Just...maybe attraction, and something new, but—"

"What?" Remus rears back, blinking.

"What?" Sirius repeats.

"You think—wait, do you think I don't fancy you?"

"I—well, I'm assuming you must, at least a little, enough to give me a chance, and the
shagging suggests—"

"Christ," Remus rasps, and Sirius snaps his mouth shut. Remus shakes his head, stunned.
Fucking hell, Sirius doesn't know. "Sirius, I've been in love with you since fifth year."

Sirius stiffens. "That's impossible."

"No, it's not," Remus says slowly. "I've known since then."

"But fifth year is when I—" Sirius cuts himself off, exhaling shakily. "Was it before—when
was it? When did you—"

"Yes, it was before you sent Snape past the tree," Remus informs him, holding his gaze. "You
did that not too long after I realized, actually."

"No," Sirius whispers. "No, no, no. Please tell me you didn't—tell me I didn't—"
Remus smiles sadly. "Sorry, but it's true."

"Oh gods," Sirius croaks. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm so—"

"Sirius—"

"And you still—"

"Yes," Remus confirms. "I thought you'd break my heart, not my trust, and that was somehow
worse. I hated you, and despite it all, I still loved you. So, you see, if I can't trust much, I can
trust in us working through our problems, Sirius, and I can trust that I'll love you as we do."

Sirius inhales sharply, then with surprising strength and ability, he twists to push Remus
down to the bed on his back and swings himself on top of him. He leans down until their
noses are almost touching and firmly says, "I've spent years trying not to be strange when it
comes to you, but it's not strange to love you at all, if you're alright with it, if we're not going
to let it ruin anything. I've been this way since I was eleven, and the first thing I wanted to do
was reach out and trace your freckles. I thought that was strange, because it was. Do you
understand what I'm saying, Remus? I've been falling in love with you since I was eleven
years old, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life doing it, if you'll let me."

"Well," Remus says with a breathless laugh, exhilarated as he gazes up at Sirius, "I'm not
going to stop you."

"We're going to talk. We are. We'll spend the rest of our lives talking," Sirius declares, "but
right now, I'm going to do so many strange things that aren't actually strange at all, because I
can, and because it's love. That's all it is. That's all it ever was. We can talk after, alright? I
promise."

"I believe you," Remus murmurs, because he does, because he trusts him when he says it,
because he trusts in them.
 Sirius lifts his hand and gently brushes the pad of his fingers across the bridge of Remus'
nose, eyes lit up with pure delight. He grins that lovely grin of his. "Oh, I love you. Don't
forget that, Remus. I'll tell you all the time, and mean it each time."

"I love you, too," Remus whispers, and it's only four words that don't even begin to describe
all that he feels for Sirius, but he's never gotten to say them before, and it means so much to
him that he gets the chance to now.

Sirius breathes out in awe and sinks down to kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him until they're
lost in that. It's a soft, intimate stretch of time, and the only laughter to be heard is the quiet
laughs of love they swap back and forth between them.

Chapter End Notes

wolfstar, my beloveds. i love them so much.

let's get into it. starting with sirius and regulus. seeing their relationship as brothers from
sirius' pov always breaks my heart, because sirius cares SO MUCH. i love getting to
write him as a good big brother. it's not done nearly enough, and sirius deserves more
credit.

also, just sirius' fear that he's not good, and he believes he can't get anything right, and
that there's something wrong with him? that HITS. oh, that hurts. i wanna hug him. i
love him so much.

remus spent 99% of this chapter being a little shit, and we love him for that. that whole
thing about feeling like life is just laughing at him??? same, remus, same. we've all been
there, buddy. but hey, it gets better! also, him completely missing that he failed to
mention he was in love with sirius TO sirius will never not be funny to me. he was like,
oh shit, he DOESN'T KNOW??? also², remus just Knowing Things all the time, then
deciding to stay out of it? an unproblematic king!

again, peter being an icon! getting to write him and remus going off and pulling pranks
together was a lot of fun. secret chaotic besties!

mary "don't drag me into this" macdonald and lily "that was...grossly soppy" evans>>>

also, that moment where remus looked at dumbledore and was like "i SAID im staying"
had me swooning. you tell him! remus, best boyfriend, it's true.
oh, and sirius being like: remember when i said im platonically in love with you and we
were just platonically shagging? yeah, so that was a lie.

meanwhile, remus: was it? really? is that so? 😐

i love them so much.

anyway, that's a wrap on the wolfstar chapter. tomorrow ill have a surprise in the form of
(SPOILER ALERT) evan/barty, but it won't be the last chapter. the last chapter will
indeed be jegulus, so we will see them again on sunday.

ill be back here tomorrow to edit this note and explain the whole evan/barty thing.

hope you all enjoyed!

EDIT:

the evan/barty side fic is up. because im sticking to a theme here, it's called intermission
(because of the whole play, acts, parts thing, get it? let me have this, it pleased me,
alright?). i never actually PLANNED to write evan/barty in just lovers, but they sort of
snuck up on me. however, i didn't tag them as a couple (seeing as i didn't expect them to
become one, but they didn't care what i expected, so here we are), and due to that, i
didn't write it into just lovers HERE. however, the side fic of them IS set in the just
lovers universe, and it's best read BEFORE the last chapter of just lovers, which i will be
posting tomorrow. it's not something you HAVE to read, if you don't want to, or if
evan/barty isn't your thing, because i never even tagged for it, but the option is there. it
does include background jegulus, including during the last year for evan, barty, pandora,
and regulus—but jegulus is not the main focus. it's there if you want, and you can ignore
it if you don't!
 ACT SIX: Part Four
Chapter Notes

okay, here we are. the last chapter.

warnings for this chapter includes: angst; a character dealing with the death of a parent
(not effie and monty, because i can't handle that); genuine depictions of depression, as
well as breakdowns and panic attacks, but only in one section, and it's resolved;
references to childbirth, but NOTHING explicit, just mentioned; implied shagging, but
again, nothing explicit; a few references to the general Queer Experience™ and how it's
not glamorous, or easy, but there are no altercations or slurs or anything like that.

that makes this sound like it's going to be bad, but i promise you, it's mostly humor,
fluff, family, and love.

with that, enjoy <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

June, 1979

"Do you have Zar?"

"No, do you?"

"No? Who has Zar?"

"Well, I didn't have Zar. Why would I have Zar?"

"Someone has to have Zar."

There's a long beat of silence.

Regulus closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then slowly releases it. When he opens his eyes,
he grits out, "Do you all mean to tell me that we have lost Zar?"

"Well, you know, if you really think about it," Pandora says lightly, "things we lose have a
way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the ways we expect."

"Lovely, Pandora, thank you for that uplifting message," Regulus replies flatly. "That doesn't
change the fact that we've misplaced our bloody snake!"

"You were supposed to have him," Evan hisses at Barty, who looks stricken. "Didn't you have
him last?"

"I—" Barty glances down at his lap helplessly, then starts patting the seat around him, and
suddenly they're all up and moving about the compartment, shifting things around and
looking for their beloved pet snake.

"He can't have gone far," Evan mutters under his breath as he steps up on the seat to examine
the luggage rack. "It's not like he could have gotten out with the door shut, right?"

"Has it been shut the whole time?" Barty asks, audibly stressed, as if he's lost his child.

"I'm fairly sure it has," Regulus confirms.

Pandora gets down on the floor and starts peering under the seats. "He probably misses his
tank, is all. Just looking for somewhere dark to hide and slither around."

"Why do I want to call his name like he'll come to me?" Barty mumbles, standing on his toes
to swipe his fingers along the tiny ledge at the top of the door.
The train abruptly lurches to a halt with a screech, a whistle blowing to signal the final stop.
They all freeze and stare at each other, no one moving a muscle. Outside the door, there's the
muffled sounds of laughter and people moving through the aisle, gathering their things and
leaving the train.

"We can't leave without Zar," Regulus states firmly, narrowing his eyes, practically daring
anyone to argue with him.

No one does.

The next few minutes pass in a frantic scramble for Zar, the great search for the lost snake of
1979. Barty gets visibly more and more frazzled, and Pandora nearly tucks herself entirely
under the seats. It's not a big compartment; it's not as if Zar has that many places to go, really,
and yet it takes forever for them to find the fucking idiot.

They do nonetheless find their fucking idiot snake, located around the handle of Pandora's
bag at the back of the luggage rack, coiled around it tight and blending in so well that he
nearly manages to bite Evan when he shifts the bag.

"Oh, there you are," Evan breathes out, quickly waving his wand to shield for fangs before
dutifully untangling Zar from the handle of Pandora's bag.

For a moment, like a bunch of idiots, they crowd around their idiot snake just to make sure
he's alright. Zar is very alright; he keeps attempting to bite them, so he's fine. Barty takes him
and lets him wind around his hand and wrist, before hiding that hand and wrist Zar sits upon
inside the fold of his robes. With that, they gather their things and start to file out, rudely
breaking in front of people without a second thought.

Regulus is the last to leave, and he never gets to step out at all before something—someone
—collides into his chest so hard that he stumbles back a few steps with a startled oomph. It
takes him a second to realize what's happening, and then he releases a quiet sigh and reaches
around to gently pat Melanie on the back as she hugs him tight.

"This isn't very cool of you, you know," Regulus murmurs.

Melanie's voice is thick when she says, "I don't care."

Gently clicking his tongue, Regulus rolls his eyes up to the ceiling of the compartment, but
he doesn't make her let go. He falls silent and lets her do as she likes. Melanie still has three
more years at Hogwarts, and despite him promising to write and stay in contact, she's not shy
about letting him know that he'll be terribly missed by her. She's fifteen, not so much of the
child he first met, but he still finds her awfully endearing and can't help but be fond of her.

He did think he'd managed to escape this, though. The hugging and such. They've all said
their proper goodbyes before even boarding the train, so he feels a bit cheated to find himself
dragged into another one with her yet again. The one with Clive and Gio had been bad
enough—in that Regulus doesn't like people getting too emotional about situations like this.
He'd hoped to avoid any overwhelming, heartwarming moments of wholesomeness for his
own sake, to be honest.

"Don't be upset," Regulus murmurs as she pulls away with a quiet sniffle. "You'll have a good
year next year, I'm sure. Do you have the map?"

Melanie nods and reaches down to tap her bag. "I have it. Gio and I already have plans for
how to put it to good use."

"Good." Regulus' lips twitch. "Come on, then. I've had enough of being on this sodding
train."

"You promise you'll write?" Melanie mumbles as they exit the compartment, the last few
stragglers to head off the train.

"I promise to write, Melanie," Regulus assures her, as he has many times before by now.

"If you don't, I will get on my broom and fly to you just to yell at you," Melanie warns.
Regulus fights a laugh. "Well, we wouldn't want that."

Melanie squints at him suspiciously, then looks away as a smile breaks out across her face.
She disembarks from the train first, and immediately, there's the distant shout of her name
from her family. She says goodbye one more time, then darts off, and Regulus watches her go
with a tiny smile. He shakes his head fondly and turns to start looking for where his friends
got off to, or any sign of—

Regulus barely gets to take three steps before he's being slammed into with enough force that
he would fall over if strong arms didn't lock around his waist and lift him clear off his feet. A
startled huff escapes him as he automatically winds his arms around the broad shoulders
offered to him, and his eyes sink shut as something within him eases all at once.

"James," Regulus murmurs. "Not here. People are—"

"I know, I know. I just—I missed you," James breathes out, holding onto him despite the
crowds of people on the platform. This isn't Hogwarts, where taking on the perception of
queer couples is actually possible, where being a queer couple is normalized to the point that
no one even bats an eye anymore, no matter their personal opinions. They can't do this here.
The world hasn't caught up yet.

"James," Regulus says softly.

"I really want to kiss you," James whispers.

Regulus' heart clenches. "I really wish you could. The sooner we leave, the sooner you can.
But you have to let me go now."

"Oh, I hate it," James mumbles, sounding genuinely unhappy about the whole thing as he
unlocks his arms and pulls away slowly. "This is stupid. Let's leave right now."
"Well, if it's all the same to you, I'd like to at least say goodbye to my friends, maybe greet
my brother, see your parents," Regulus lists off dryly.

James looks contrite immediately. "Oh, right. Yeah, that's fair. Sirius is...here somewhere. I
sort of—abandoned him as soon as I saw you. He's—ah! Right there. Come on, then."

James snatches up Regulus' bag and drags his trunk, gently pushing Regulus' hands aside
when he attempts to help. Regulus raises his hands in surrender, letting him do it and
pretending he's not secretly pleased to be doted on. James looks at him with a sparkle in his
eyes like he already knows. Yeah, alright, so Regulus is spoiled. James' fault, really.

Regulus follows James through the crowd over to where Sirius is waiting with Effie and
Monty. Effie almost immediately tugs him into a hug before anyone can even say anything,
and Regulus hugs her back, offering Monty a smile over her shoulder. James and Sirius seem
to be in a war over who's going to hold Regulus' trunk. Sirius wins.

"Now, I know you're leaving with James and Sirius, but Monty and I wanted to see you off
the train and check if there was anything you needed before you go, anything at all," Effie
says as they break apart, her hands braced on his shoulders, one hand gently smoothing out
the wrinkles on his sleeve.

"No, I'll be fine, thank you," Regulus murmurs.

"You'll be over at ours next week in any case, won't you?" Monty declares, shooting him a
warm look.

"I will," Regulus confirms. He's still baffled by the fact that he's going to be working with
Monty, technically as his assistant, apprentice, and business partner all at once.

"Doing alright, Reggie?" Sirius asks when Regulus glances over at him. He has a smug look
on his face from where he's holding onto the trunk in victory while James visibly sulks.
"Yes," Regulus says simply. "Where's Remus?"

Sirius snorts. "Trying to make sure Peter doesn't burn down the flat. They've decided to
welcome you with lunch. Peter is not the best cook, we've learned."

"So, we're ordering takeaway?"

"No. Remus will salvage it, I'm sure."

"Reg!"

"Dorcas?" Regulus' head whips around instantly, and then he's walking away without another
word, heading right for his group of friends. Regulus wasn't expecting Dorcas to make it.
None of them were, honestly, with how busy she's been.

"Merlin, it's always so fucking awful at the end of the year on this platform," Dorcas
grumbles as she draws Regulus into a quick hug the moment he comes within range. When
he pulls back, she grins at him. "Surprise, I'm here."

"I see that," Regulus says, huffing a soft laugh. "We didn't think you'd be able to get away
from work."

Dorcas snorts. "As if I'd let you lot make it back home after graduating and not come see you
back. Out into the real world with the rest of you, I say. Be wary. It's dreadful."

"Is it, really?" Pandora asks, looking curious.

"Well, no, I'm joking. A bit more stressful in some ways, but even lovelier in others," Dorcas
muses. "Trying to work around a schedule is murder, let me tell you."
"It'll be easier now that the majority of us aren't locked in that castle," Barty grumbles, rolling
his eyes.

Evan hums. "I'm so glad to be out of that castle."

"I agree, and I also miss that castle," Dorcas says, then chuckles when they all stare at her
incredulously. "I know. The N.E.W.T.s were a bloody pain, weren't they?"

"Horrible," Pandora announces mournfully.

"I never want to think about them again," Evan adds.

"I'd sooner die than think about them again," Barty says.

Regulus takes a quick look around to make sure James hasn't followed him, as he's prone to
doing. He hasn't. "The N.E.W.T.s made me want to drown myself in the lake."

"He threatened to many times," Evan tells Dorcas solemnly as she wheezes with laughter. "I
think the giant squid would have saved him, though. It does that, you know. A first year fell
out of the boat on the way to the welcoming feast, and the squid just gently put the poor girl
back safely."

"Where did it even come from?" Dorcas mutters, her laughter fading, even though her smile
doesn't.

"No one knows," Regulus says with a sigh. "I suppose it's just there to stay now, though.
Shame it wasn't around in my sixth year, or I wouldn't have nearly drowned at all."

"Well, at least it'll never happen again," Pandora points out. She glances at Dorcas. "Where's
Marlene?"
"Visiting Mary and Lily," Dorcas answers. "They all thought about coming, but they're tired
from work, and we're all meeting at the pub this weekend anyway. I'm assuming none of you
mind in the slightest."

"Not really," Evan says. "We have to be going anyway. Barty promised he'd visit his mum,
and then we have supper with the Wiseacres to get to."

"My dad is waiting on me," Pandora adds sheepishly and lifts her hand to wave towards him
with a beaming smile.

"I can practically feel James resisting the impulse to pick me up and carry me off like I'm
luggage," Regulus admits wryly, rolling his eyes when they all grin at him. "Oh, shut up."

"I'm quite sure the only thing that's keeping him from doing it is his mum," Barty says,
amused, peering around Regulus to presumably look at James. He ends up waving.

"Who has Zar?" Dorcas asks.

Barty straightens up and shuffles closer, opening his robes a bit to show her where he has Zar
hidden away, so as to not cause a panic. "Oh, this is who you really came to see, isn't it?"

"Yes," Dorcas replies promptly, grinning when they all shoot her mock looks of offense. She
moves closer and reaches out to stroke his head. "I miss him. I'll be over to visit him soon
enough when you or Evan aren't busy."

"Ah, he's missed you, too," Pandora notes fondly when Zar tries to sink his fangs into Dorcas'
hand, only to miss.

"Regulus, get a move on, would you? James is about to explode!" Sirius bellows, his voice
carrying loud enough for them to hear, despite the distance. Ah, his true calling. Yelling.
Regulus clicks his tongue, as if he's not itching to get away with James himself. "That's me, I
suppose. I'll be off."

"Saturday," Dorcas reminds him.

"Yes, I'll be there," Regulus vows, nodding at them all as he starts to back away. "See you."

"See you, Regulus!" they all shout back.

Poor James does look like he's about to explode, and his parents are gone by the time Regulus
reaches him, so the fact that he's held his restraint this long is commendable. He looks like
he's dying to reach out to touch Regulus, and it's killing him that he can't. Regulus knows the
feeling.

Sirius rolls his eyes at them both. "Ready?"

"Am I ever?" Regulus replies. "Let's go."

They do, in fact, go. The plan is to stop into Remus and Sirius' flat, where Remus and Peter
are apparently planning to welcome Regulus back with lunch—which, while nice, isn't really
at the top of his list of priorities, frankly. First order of business is getting James alone, and
everyone else can just deal with it. Regulus orchestrates this with absolutely no tact
whatsoever, which likely surprises no one.

"Hello. Goodbye. I want to be alone with James," Regulus declares bluntly, approximately
two seconds after Peter and Remus have greeted him as soon as he comes in the door.
Regulus snatches his trunk from Sirius. "We'll be back...later."

"But I made biscuits," Peter says solemnly.

"What did I tell you, Pete? I did tell you that's what he would do. Didn't I tell you?" Remus
replies.

"That's alright, Wormtail, I'll eat your biscuits," Sirius announces brightly.

"They're not exactly...edible," Remus mutters.

"Oi!" Peter bursts out in offense. "I worked hard on—"

Regulus doesn't hear the rest, because he's already slipping out of the door to march across
the hall, waiting impatiently by the door to James and Peter's flat for James to come over and
let him in. James does just that, his hands shaking so badly that he fumbles the keys three
times before he ever manages to get the door open.

The flat looks no different than Regulus saw it last, on Easter break, and he wastes no time in
sweeping through it to head right for James' room. He's barely dropped his trunk before
James is practically tossing aside Regulus' bag to reach for him instead. He kicks the door
shut with his foot at the same time that he catches Regulus' face in his hands, swooping in to
kiss him like a starved man made of desperation.

It's been too long. Regulus hasn't seen James since Easter break, in over two and half months
—nearly three—due to the pressure of N.E.W.T.s, which didn't really allow him the time or
energy to sneak out of the castle to see his boyfriend like he'd been doing at least once a
month all year, excluding March. They'd exchanged letters, which is honestly one of the only
things that helped get Regulus through the last three months altogether. It's mental the ache
that has existed in Regulus' very bones just from missing him, a cold he couldn't escape, and
that's soothed now as James' mouth warms him.

"Merlin, I needed that," James breathes out as they break away, foreheads resting together. He
dips his head slightly and nudges at Regulus' cheek with his nose, his hands delving into
Regulus' hair with a quiet, muffled groan.

"James," Regulus says, eyes shut as he sways forward, hands fisted in James' jumper down
by his hips. He tugs on it, trying to pull him closer, brimming with all these ridiculous
feelings that threaten to bubble over. All this time later, and Regulus still loves him so much
that it's unbearable.

"It's been too long," James complains. "I think about you every day, all the time. What you're
doing, who you're with, how you feel. It's like—it's as if I could never fully be here, because
a part of me is always with you, wherever you are."

"I'm here," Regulus murmurs.

James' breath audibly hitches, and he starts walking Regulus back towards his bed. "You're
here. Oh, you're finally here. Fuck, I've missed you. I've missed you so much, love."

"I know. Merlin, I know," Regulus agrees breathlessly, clinging to James' jumper and using it
to swing James around, shoving him away so he'll fall back on the bed. Regulus follows him
instantly, clambering on top of him before he's even finished bouncing a little on the
mattress.

"Fucking hell," James chokes out, his head falling back as Regulus leans down to latch onto
his throat. His voice is so high and breathy that his voice cracks as he speaks. "I—I may have
—oh, oh, I may have underestimated just—just what you do to me, Regulus. Sweet Merlin,
you are so—"

Regulus reluctantly detaches from James' neck to lift up and peer down at him. "James, now
would be a brilliant time to shut up and start misplacing your clothes."

"You are so fucking smart," James whispers reverently, then does just that.

All-in-all, it's a very nice reunion.

Regulus is aware that it makes him a prick, but he doesn't want to get up and go see anyone
else, even over an hour later. He wants to stay right where he is, sprawled out with James, in
James' bed. They've resorted to light, intimate touches for the sake of touching, James
running his fingers gently through Regulus' hair and Regulus tracing his initials on James'
chest with the tip of his finger. They're quiet, just looking at each other, content to do just that
for a while.

In a way, Regulus was worried that everything would be different between them, after
spending time apart. He was scared that it would be awkward, perhaps, or maybe James'
feelings would fade without Regulus right in front of him. Just those unshakeable insecurities
that James makes a mockery of every single time. It is different, because they're older and
they're at different places in their lives from when this all first started, but it's no less intense.
It's still real.

"Can we stay here?" Regulus asks quietly.

"You don't want to see the others?" James murmurs, gaze flicking over Regulus' face, feasting
on the sight of him.

"I can see them tomorrow," Regulus offers.

James' eyebrows furrow. "Aren't you hungry, love?"

"I just want to be with you today," Regulus mumbles, turning his gaze to James' chest, his
finger swiping through the smattering of dark hair there. Tracing R.A.B over and over, like he
can leave the echo of himself with James always.

"Yeah, alright," James says, and he's grinning when Regulus drags his gaze up, visibly
delighted. "But you still have to eat. Go have a shower, and I'll make you a toastie."

"Come have a shower with me, and we'll make toasties together afterwards," Regulus
counters, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, you've missed me, too, haven't you?" James teases, pleased by this. His eyes are
sparkling, overly bright, and his grin is only growing. He curls forward and buries his face
against Regulus' hair, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing him as he laughs softly.

"Not one bit," Regulus lies, closing his eyes and tucking his face into the curve of James'
shoulder.

"Liar," James whispers playfully, ducking his head to press a kiss to Regulus' temple.

Regulus doesn't understand how being with one person can make him feel this fucking happy.
"I can feel the smugness absolutely radiating off of you right now. Stop that."

"I am smug," James admits shamelessly. "Look at you, being clingy. You love me so much."

"You're no longer invited to my shower."

"Don't be mean, love."

"It's like you don't even know me," Regulus mutters.

James busts out laughing, shaking against him and pulling him closer. "No, I do. I really,
really do. I'm so glad that I do."

"Don't start being soppy."

"Your measurement of soppy is just my truth. Would you rather I lie? What if I was mean?"

Regulus rears back, face scrunching. "How would that even work? That's—I genuinely can't
picture that. Say something mean to me right now, for experimental purposes."
"Er," James says, eyebrows pulling together. He opens and closes his mouth, then whispers,
"I don't know what to say."

"Oh, James," Regulus murmurs, stifling a laugh.

Blinking in honest frazzled bewilderment, James shrugs a little sheepishly. "I don't think I
know how to be mean, specifically to you. I don't want to do that. I just want to—I don't
know, snog you all the time, really."

"Well, so do I, but I can be mean in between," Regulus points out, and James' lips curl up
fondly. "Go on, give it a go."

"You're a prick?" James tries.

Regulus arches an eyebrow. "Really? That's all you can come up with? James, that's not
mean. That's common knowledge."

"That's all I've got," James says simply. "Sorry to disappoint, Reg. I adore you, you know. I
can be nice, though. I can be really, really nice. Don't you want me to be nice?"

"You know," Regulus murmurs breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut as James' mouth grazes
along his neck, heading for that special spot that makes Regulus light up from within every
fucking time, "I—I do like when you're nice."

"Do you?" James asks softly, a note of satisfaction in his tone as he gently turns to press
Regulus back into the bed.

"Gods, so much," Regulus chokes out, and then James is being so nice to him that it actually
shuts him up for quite a while.
It takes them a bit to get to the shower, then to make toasties, and if the others are surprised
that Regulus and James don't ever come back—well, they must not be, because they don't
come by to see what's keeping them.

They can probably take a guess.

July, 1979

"It's just frustrating, do you know what I mean?" Remus asks as he tugs his jumper over his
head and starts folding it up, nice and neat. Sirius nearly falls over from craning his head to
look, James bumps into a tree because he does a double-take, and Peter whistles sharply.
Remus glances around to see what they're all swooning over, then looks down at himself and
rolls his eyes. "Christ, stop it. You all do that every time."

"Oh, Moons," Sirius says, sighing dreamily as he clutches his chest and goes stumbling back
against the tree James is leaning against. James reaches out to steady him so he doesn't
actually fall on his arse, and Sirius flashes him a dopey grin. James pats his chest with a
smile. "We can't help it, you know that, Moonshine. You're so beautiful. Just so, so—"

"Yes, thank you," Remus cuts in, clearly not believing him, or just not caring. "Can we go
back to my problem? Are any of you going to listen, or do I need to put my jumper back
on?"

"You might have to put the jumper back on, mate," Peter tells him, and James boos really
loudly while Sirius throws his arms up and looks at Peter like what the fuck? Peter shrugs.
"I'm just being honest! If he doesn't want us distracted, then—"

"We don't have much time," Remus interrupts, glancing up at the sky, and they all
immediately give him their undivided attention. "I need proper ideas, alright? This is the
fourth job I've lost already, because I need very specific days off each month. I can't think of
one position where that's...fine."
"Be a writer," Peter says. "Write a book."

Remus' face scrunches. "Do you think writing is easy, Pete? Besides, I'd never get published.
All the cursing."

"Edit the cursing out," Peter suggests.

"Then it won't be authentic," Remus replies with a frown.

"Alright, so be my stay-at-home spouse," Sirius declares, not for the first time. He shrugs
innocently when Remus fixes him with a flat look. "I think that's a very stressful occupation
already and takes a lot of work as it is. You get your needed days off, and you'll be your own
boss, really."

"And Sirius' boss," James adds supportively. Sirius opens his mouth like he's about to protest,
then slowly closes it.

"How many times have I told you?" Remus grits out, glaring at Sirius. "I don't need you to
fucking support me, Sirius. I can work, so I should damn well work. I'm not taking your
money."

"Is being with me not work, Remus?" Sirius asks. "If it will make you feel better, you don't
have to take my money. You'll just find random pouches of galleons all over the flat."

"Being with you is a choice, and one I'm happy to make, you cunt," Remus replies,
exasperated, and Sirius melts over into James like he's about to sink into the ground. James
dutifully steadies him. "I'm not joking, yeah? I—I want a proper job. I want to—I don't know,
contribute to society somehow, and I don't want Moony to hold me back from that."

James purses his lips. "You could always open your own shop, or be an inventor, sort of like
my dad and Regulus. That way, you can make your own schedule."
"I suppose, but that's not simple either," Remus mutters.

"What would you like to do?" Peter asks.

Remus frowns, then says, "Teach. Or...something to do with books, maybe, muggle and
wizarding alike. Or both."

"So, open a bookshop that has muggle and wizarding books, and offer lessons about things
you like once a week," Sirius announces, straightening up. "Close the shop a few days a
month, and go on that way."

"That would be lovely, if I had the money to buy a bloody shop and do it," Remus snaps in
visible frustration.

"I'll buy you a shop," James offers.

"What? James, no," Remus says incredulously.

James huffs. "Well, why not? It'd be an investment, really! I'm doing it. You can't actually
stop me."

"Prongs, don't you fucking dare," Remus chokes out, his eyes bulging as he looks between
Peter and Sirius for help, but they're not sympathetic to his plight in the least.

"I've the money, Moony," James declares firmly. "Why shouldn't I? It sounds lovely, actually.
Not enough magical people get exposed to muggle literature, and it's rubbish. Think of it as
me caring for the future of the magical world, shaping young minds and all that. Regulus
loves muggle books, you know, and he never got to read any before he was sixteen. Isn't that
dreadful?"
"Just dreadful," Peter agrees solemnly. "I think Regulus would love a shop like that, so you
know James has to do it now, Remus. You may as well accept it."

"I don't!" Remus sputters. "I do not accept it. You're not buying me a sodding bookshop! No.
That's just—"

"You can pay him back," Sirius offers.

"No?" James says, face scrunching as he looks at Sirius in disbelief. He's not going to make
Remus pay him back.

Sirius shoots him a look that quite clearly tells him to shut up and go with it, so James shuts
up and goes with it. "How does that sound, my lovely moonage daydream, hm? It'll be just
like an investment, honestly. James will cover all the expenses for the shop, and once it's a
success, you can pay him back."

"That's a good deal, mate," Peter points out.

Remus narrows his eyes, flicking them between Sirius and James, who both simultaneously
do their best to look casual and innocent. "With interest."

"Sorry?" Sirius asks lightly.

"I'll pay James back—with interest," Remus clarifies slowly, tilting his head. "I'll match his
expenses, of which he'll need clear records on, and I'll give it all back, plus an interest of
twenty percent."

"Two percent," James counters immediately.

"Eighteen."
"Five."

"Fifteen."

"Six."

"Fourteen."

"Six."

"Twelve."

"Six."

"Eight," Remus says sharply. "Take it or leave it."

James grins. "Deal."

"This is so stupid. I take it back," Remus mumbles with a grimace. "Let's not—"

"Ah ah, too late now, my love," Sirius cuts in, clapping his hands and beaming. "No more
fussing out of you. It's getting late now, isn't it?"

Remus' grimace is permanently etched onto his face as he tilts his head up to look at the sky.
"So it is. Not too long now."
And it isn't. Less than half an hour later, Moony is dragging himself up off the ground to go
over and nose at the clothes Remus left folded nice and neat at the base of the tree. Padfoot
nudges him with his head to get him to leave it alone, urging him to go find something else to
do with his time. Moony is a dedicated little shit when he wants to be, though, much like
Remus, so eventually Prongs has to go over and prod at him with his antlers when he's trying
to stick his whole head into the jumper while snuffling. Wormtail is already darting back and
forth to distract him, and that seems to do the trick.

They have clear perimeters that they use each month in the forest closest to their flat, which
they change each month, repeatedly putting up so many wards that even Merlin himself
wouldn't be able to get through. They go so deep that not a soul could even get lost inside,
but they have precautions in place for every possibility, mostly at Remus' insistence. There's
not a chance that Moony could get out, or anyone could get in, but Remus is a chronic
worrier, so they do whatever he needs to appease him.

This has become routine ever since graduation. Moony was at first very confused and curious
about the new surroundings, but he has since adjusted, and he doesn't much seem to care
where he is, so long as he gets to roam and run and they're all with him. Of course, life can
get in the way sometimes, so Peter has missed a few fulls, James has missed two, and Sirius
has only missed one—or half of one, really, because he did show up; he was just a little late,
much to his chagrin. Moony doesn't mind so long as they don't miss too many in a row, like
he just wants to be sure they're alive, and if even one of them is with him, then he's fine for
the most part. Even with a busy life, that's not a task too tall for Sirius, James, and Peter.

Another routine is Lily being at Sirius and Remus' flat early in the morning before heading to
work, or even on her days off when the fulls just so happen to fall on them. She'd just been
waiting there that first full moon, which was really convenient, because Moony had been
rough enough to hurt Remus' knee. Lily, being a Healer, handled it without so much as
batting an eye or asking any questions, then had tea with everyone while Remus rested, then
left without a word. She did it three more times before Remus had asked in resignation how
long she knew he was a werewolf.

"Longer than I knew you were gay for Sirius Black," Lily had joked, and Remus had huffed
out a laugh and shook his head, accepting the gentle hug she pulled him into.

Lily never misses a moon, not for anything.

She has since been treated to the sight of Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, simply because she
asked, and since she knew Remus' secret, they didn't much care if she knew theirs. What was
she going to do? Tell on them for being illegal animagi? Lily? No, obviously not, and she
didn't. She was actually really quite impressed with them, especially when she found out
when they managed to do it.

After this full, Lily is yet again waiting in the flat when they get back, which is particularly
helpful this time. Moony had gotten rough with Prongs this time, purely because he stopped
Moony from chasing a poor doe that looked scared for her life. Look, James is a stag, alright?
He sympathizes. So, yes, he may have protected the doe, which Moony didn't like, which
may have ended in a bit of a tussle, and now James' arm is broken. It's fine. James is perfectly
fine. Wormtail bit Moony's ear hard enough to make it bleed, and Padfoot dragged Moony
back by the leg with his teeth, and Moony did eventually do his form of apology to Prongs
where he just goes over and whines a lot before repeatedly butting his head against him like
he's saying sorry for being a bit of a prick.

Really, James isn't upset, and he spends the entire morning reassuring Remus that he's fine. It
wasn't even Moony's fault, really. James just landed very badly, and Moony wasn't actually
trying to hurt Prongs. He never means to hurt any of them, not the way he does when he hurts
himself.

Lily has to heal James' arm, then Remus' ear, and then it's like it never happened at all.
Remus is still miserable about the whole thing, of course, and James eventually gets
exasperated enough to punch Remus in the shoulder and call it even. Oddly, that does seem to
help.

"He's ridiculous," James says as Remus shuffles off to get in bed, yawning as goes.

"Yeah," Sirius agrees, but he's sickeningly fond.

James nudges him with his recently healed arm. "Hey, what was that all about with having
Remus pay me back? You're not actually saying he should, are you?"

"It's the only way he'd agree, mate. He's going to pay you back, and the interest," Sirius
replies, lips curling up. "I didn't say anything about him paying me back, now did I?"
"Oh, so we're getting Moony a bookshop, then?"

"Yes. Yes, we are."

"And how much are you paying?" Peter asks with a grin.

"I'll cover at least half the costs," Sirius says.

Peter chuckles. "Brilliant."

"He'll kill you if he ever finds out," James warns, even though he isn't going to stop Sirius at
all. He thinks it's a brilliant idea, actually.

It's not about the money. Sirius has plenty, just from what he inherited when his uncle
Alphard died, as well as the steady income from his job. James has a lot of family money as
well; his dad literally invents things and keeps multiple different places that sell potions
stocked, and that's not even counting the hefty fund that his grandmother left him when he
was only a child. Why shouldn't they use their money for things that are important to them,
like Remus' happiness?

James knows it's a pride issue for Remus, mostly, and also just wanting to find his own way
in the world around the many stupid restrictions against werewolves. He gets it, he does, but
James and Sirius just want to help. They love him. Money is meaningless to them, and what
matters more is the people they care about. Remus would cut his nose off to spite his face
sometimes, while Sirius, James, and Peter would much prefer to see him smiling. They're
friends. This is what they do; they take care of each other as much as they can, where they
can, and James and Sirius can do this, so they will.

Still, it's a mild surprise when Sirius murmurs, "I'll tell him. I'm going to talk to him about it
later. This is—he'd be very upset if we actually did it while hiding it from him, and that's not
a mistake I plan to make. I'll bring him round, just need a bit of time to get through that
stubborn pride of his. He's worse than I am sometimes, honestly."
"You love him," Peter says, lips twitching.

"So much," Sirius admits with a soft sigh.

Peter hums, his gaze warm as he pushes himself to his feet and stretches. "Right, well, I don't
know about all of you, but I'm knackered. James? Coming with?"

"Mm, yeah, I'll be over in a minute," James says, and Peter nods before heading towards the
door to leave, clapping Sirius on the shoulder as he goes by.

"I should be going as well," Lily says as she comes out of the kitchen, dressed in her Healer
robes, looking bright-eyed and ready to make the day her bitch. Good for her. "James, will I
see you in the mess?"

"I'm off today," James replies.

"Do you want me to check in on any of your little ones?"

"If you're in the area, stop in and see Bill Weasley, will you? He's Gid and Fab's nephew, only
ten, and the poor thing is dealing with spattergroit."

Lily clicks her tongue in sympathy. "Oh, that's awful. I'll stop in to see him if I can."

"He's healing well," James says. "Just gets bored, really, and he loves hearing things about his
uncles in Hogwarts. Very excited to start next year, too. Oh, and there's Beatrice. Her magic
is—volatile, but she loves it when someone will play peek-a-boo with her. And—well, I'd say
just sweep through the whole wing if you have a slow day. They're all a delight."
"When have I ever had a slow day?" Lily asks dryly, and James bares his teeth in a grimace.
She snorts. "Don't you want to just trade places, Potter?"

"Can't say that I do, Evans," James replies, raising his hands and lightly bowing to her a few
times. "You stay with the fussy adults, and I'll handle the lovely little angels, thank you."

"Good thing I love a challenge, eh?" Lily laughs softly and stops by to hug him and Sirius
before needing to dart off.

"She's going to run Mungos one day, mark my words," Sirius mutters once she's gone,
shaking his head in awe.

James shakes his head. "No, mate, she's going to run the world."

"Merlin help us all," Sirius says fondly.

"Listen, I—I was wondering if you'd—well, honestly, I was hoping you'd have some advice,"
James mumbles.

Sirius' gaze snaps to him, and he blinks. "Sure, if I've got any worth hearing. What about?"

"Regulus," James admits weakly.

"Know a thing or two about that, I do," Sirius muses, raising his eyebrows. "What's going on,
then?"

"Well, he's...smart."

"You've lost me."

James makes a quiet noise of distress. "Padfoot, please."

"Oh, alright." Sirius rolls his eyes and waves his hand. "Carry on. He's smart, fine."

"He's not going to believe that we all go camping once a month, when it just so happens to
fall on the full moon," James says wearily. "He'll notice the pattern eventually, mate, you
know he will. I'm not—I don't plan to tell Remus' secret, of course, but I'm—well, I do worry
that he'll work it out eventually, or close to it. I just—I don't know what to—"

"Has he said anything?" Sirius asks stiffly.

"Nothing," James murmurs. "I told him it was a camping trip, and he didn't seem to… He just
nodded and told me not to bring back any foreign diseases, or bugs, or a contagious rash, or
wild animals, or—"

"I get the point," Sirius cuts in, raising his hand and looking a little softer, a little more
amused. "Alright, so Reggie knows fuck all about camping. Brilliant."

"I feel like I'm lying to him, Sirius," James says softly.

Sirius' amusement drains away, and he squints. "Well, you sort of are, but that's your only
option, James. I mean, unless you plan to stop coming on the full moons."

"No," James replies immediately, firmly.

"Then I don't know what to tell you." Sirius shrugs. "Remus doesn't like people to know,
mate, you know that. When we started all of this, we agreed to never tell anyone, and I
already mucked that up once. Just… I don't know, Prongs, I think this is a conversation you
need to have with Remus."
James hunches down on himself a bit. "I'm honestly a little terrified to."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's—it's like I'm asking if I can share his secret, and that's not fair to him, and I
don't want him to worry about Regulus figuring it out on his own. And—and what if he asks
me to stop coming on the fulls? I just—I want to do this right, but I'm not sure how."

"Well, you know, just tell him that," Sirius says slowly. "He really isn't unreasonable."

"I'm not saying he is."

"I'm not saying you're saying he is. I'm saying just talk to him and see what he thinks, yeah?
It's his life, mate."

"Yeah, alright," James mumbles, turning his head to look towards the room Remus is in,
resting. "Maybe later, though. I'm sure he's more knackered than we are."

"I don't doubt it." Sirius reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, smiling at him. "Go get some
rest, James. Flick Reg on his ear for me, will you?"

"Just for you, Pads, I will," James vows, and Sirius grins at him before they split off to go
their separate ways.

There's faint sounds of the violin coming from Peter's room, which means he's unwinding and
preparing to go to sleep. He likes to play to calm his mind, and frankly, James gets why. It's a
very soothing instrument, and James loves that Peter just decided to pick up the hobby. He's
been taking lessons since graduating, and he's gotten really good by now. James sort of loves
hearing the sweet sounds of the violin in the flat when Peter comes out of his room to play,
and he's practically Regulus' new favorite person because of it.
Sometimes, it's like Regulus likes spending time with Peter more than James, which would be
insulting if James wasn't the type to barrel in and invite himself into whatever they're doing.
Through Regulus' love of Peter playing the violin, James learned that Regulus (and Sirius,
shockingly) can play piano, which is such a baffling thing to go so long without knowing. It's
a stark reminder that there's always new things to learn about the people you love, no matter
how long you're with them, even in the ways you least expect.

One thing James has learned from living with Regulus is that he likes to sleep in the dark. He
insisted they purchase dark curtains so the sun shining through wouldn't wake him in the
morning. James, who likes a bright and sunny room, had to give in and compromise, but so
did Regulus. He agrees to the curtains being opened once they're both fully awake, then shut
before bed, which works for James. It's almost ironic, really, that Regulus likes a dark, dreary
room that's cold, while James likes a bright, breathable room that's warm.

For that reason, it's a muffled dark when James slips into his room and shuts the door, the
sounds of Peter's violin fading out. James kicks off his shoes and heads for the bed, sliding
into it next to Regulus, who is still sleeping. He gently flicks Regulus' ear as he spoons up
behind him, slipping an arm around his waist and settling down with a quiet sigh.

"J'mes?" Regulus mumbles sleepily, reaching back to pat at James' face with no finesse
whatsoever.

James kisses his fingers anyway. "Who else would it be, love?"

"Dream?"

"Oh, are you dreaming of me?"

"Think so," Regulus sighs out, his hand slack against James' cheek. "Good dreams. The best
dreams."

"Then go back to sleep," James murmurs, brimming with so much affection that he feels like
he's going to be smothered with it. "Keep dreaming of me."
Regulus hums, petting the side of his face sleepily, but he eventually halts as he falls asleep
once more. James reaches up to pull his glasses off, sitting them aside, then tangles his
fingers with Regulus' and closes his eyes. James must invade his dreams, because when he's
asleep, Regulus is there, too.

August, 1979

Regulus comes home one day to find Remus sitting on the settee with a black dog next to
him, a very large stag lying by his feet, and a rat sitting directly on top of his head.

Regulus blinks, then blinks again. No, still there.

Slowly, Regulus closes the door and flicks his gaze between Remus and the animals, not even
sure where to begin with this. Remus is just casually sipping tea, watching him with a mild
smile, that secret glint of mischief in his eyes that Regulus has only just recently started to
recognize.

"Why?" Regulus says. Remus blinks at him, so Regulus feels compelled to clarify. "Why is
there a rodent on your head, a mutt beside you, and a filthy woodland creature by your feet?"

The rat's head raises up at the same time that the dog's does, visibly offended, which is…
Again, Regulus doesn't even know where to begin with that. The stag snorts out of its nose in
a way that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

"Regulus, quick question, how do you feel about werewolves, just in general?" Remus asks
lightly.

"I—" Regulus blinks again, because he really wasn't prepared for that question. He's still
stuck on the fucking zoo that's apparently been unleashed in the flat. "Well, to be honest, I've
never given them much thought. I wrote an essay on them once, I think. Dangerous, dark
creatures with no—"

Regulus cuts himself off when the dog starts growling at him. Like, full-on snarling, the
snout wrinkling up to reveal teeth. He stares at it. The dog stares back.

"Stop it," Remus chides with a frown, reaching out to tug on one of the dog's ears until it
settles back down.

"Don't tell me you've a werewolf somewhere in this flat, too?" Regulus mutters, lips tipping
down.

Remus coughs. "Ah, as a matter of fact, I do."

"You—" Regulus rears back a little bit in disbelief. "What? How is that even—where would
you even—it's not even the full moon! That's not even possible. A werewolf would just be a
normal person right now, not a—" Regulus halts. He comes to a complete halt in every
aspect, his mind even blanking for a moment. Slowly, so slowly, Regulus flicks his gaze to
the only normal person in the room. Remus. "Oh."

"Really, I have no idea how more people never worked it out," Remus says quietly.

"You're a werewolf," Regulus states, blinking at him.

"Yes," Remus replies, lips pressing into a thin line.

Regulus frowns. "Is this a...new development, or…?"

"Happened when I was four."

"Four? And they let you into Hogwarts? Wait, isn't your dad—"

"Yes, yes, and yes," Remus cuts in sharply. "It's exactly as it seems. Any further questions?"

"Well, you haven't exactly answered any of my—" Regulus cuts himself off once more when
the dog starts growling at him yet again. This is honestly a lot for Regulus to take in at the
moment, so he decides to just...not. "You know what? I...don't even want to know. I just—I
have had the longest fucking day of my life, so sure. You're a werewolf. Brilliant. Or, no,
sorry? I don't fucking know what you want me to say, and can you please explain the
animals?"

Remus raises his eyebrows. "That's it? You're not going to start throwing curses or
demanding information?"

"Remus, I really can't be fussed," Regulus says wearily. "I had to deliver fourteen crates of
potions for Monty today, and nine of them were for older women trying to marry me off to
their granddaughters, and three of them complained about not being sure that the potions
were authentic, asking me to prove it to them, and it was Skele-Gro, which you're not meant
to take if you're not missing fucking bones, but did they care? No. The answer is no, they did
not, and so I had to explain three times that I would not be vanishing my bones just to prove
the authenticity of the potions, and tell nine different old bitties that I have no interest in
making honest women out of any of their granddaughters. So, frankly, you being a werewolf
might just be the least troubling part of my day, because one, it hasn't affected me before
now, so I'm not sure how it will in the future, and two, Sirius would no doubt murder me in
my bloody sleep if I so much as breathed towards you with the intent to be a prick about
this."

"Christ," Remus mutters, blinking at him. "You—you really needed to get that off your chest,
didn't you?"

Regulus deflates a bit, exhaling deeply. "Yeah, I think so."

"And you're just assuming Sirius knows about me?" Remus asks with a faint sound of
amusement in his voice.
"Well...yes," Regulus muses slowly. "He calls you Moony. He has the full moons memorized.
Suppose it makes sense why he does. I—you know, I'm actually a bit agitated that I didn't
work this out before. I'm assuming Peter and James know."

"They do." Remus' lips twitch like there's some joke that Regulus is missing. "Lily, too.
That's all, though."

"Right, and...why are you telling me, exactly?" Regulus asks, tilting his head. "I mean, no
offense, but why is it any of my business?"

"It's not, really, but James and I had a talk. I decided I didn't really mind if you knew.
Chances were, you would have figured it out eventually, and this way, I can—control that,
how you find out," Remus tells him.

Regulus nods slowly. "Right, sure, but that doesn't explain the fucking animals, Remus. Why
are there animals?"

"You can't think of one reason?" Remus asks.

"Should I be able to? I mean—" Regulus halts, flicking his gaze from Remus, to the rat, to
the dog, to the stag. He does it again, then again, then feels his face fall flat. "Oh, you've got
to be joking. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Tell me this isn't what I think it is. Tell
me my boyfriend isn't the filthy woodland creature by your feet right now."

Remus looks like he's having the time of his life as he says, rather brightly, "I'm afraid I can't
do that, as that would be considered lying."

Regulus fixes his gaze on the stag. James. Right, well, that explains a few things. Like why
James had forest friends back at Hogwarts. He's of the fucking forest, apparently. It also
explains those odd noises he makes in his sleep sometimes, as well as why his mates call him
Prongs, and probably why he roars with laughter any time Regulus calls him dear. He would
find that absolutely hilarious.
James-as-a-stag is unnecessarily large, intimidatingly so, and his antlers stick up and out as
wild and proud as his hair. There are very, very faint markings around his black eyes, circular
like his glasses. Really, James-as-a-stag is actually quite majestic in that once-in-a-lifetime
sort of way, like you would hold your breath and hold very still if you came across him, just
to keep staring at him for a little bit longer.

"When did they do this?" Regulus asks quietly.

"They became animagi in our fifth year," Remus murmurs, reaching up to scoop the rat—
Peter—off the top of his head and sit him on the other side of the settee. The rat shifts and
grows, and in seconds, Peter is sitting there with his elbow on the arm of the settee, cheek
propped up on his fist.

"Sirius came up with the idea. Moony wouldn't harm animals, so it was a way for us to be
with him on the full," Peter explains. "It was bloody difficult, let me tell you."

"Of course it was Sirius." Regulus heaves a sigh and reaches up to scratch his eyebrow.
"Lovely. Well, I'm harboring three illegal animagi and an unregistered werewolf. That's
just…" He shakes his head. "You know, the potion deliveries were still more exhausting than
this. Sure."

Regulus tosses up his hands and turns away to march into the kitchen. He doesn't care if it's
still the afternoon, he's going to have a glass of wine, and no one gets to judge him for it,
after the day he's had. Two women pinched his cheek today. Two!

In the middle of pouring himself a very large glass of wine, a very large stag comes into the
kitchen, and Regulus ignores it. This is his life. This is what happens when your brother is
Sirius Black. This is what happens when you're in love with James Potter. Regulus is numb to
it, at this point.

Regulus stands at the counter and lifts his glass of wine, closing his eyes as he has his first
sip, sighing after he swallows. He braces his free hand on the counter and stares at the
ridiculous little salt and pepper shaker that James had fallen in love with and bought the
second he saw them. They have little faces on them with Mr and Mrs, the salt shaker with a
tiny black heart and the pepper shaker with a tiny white one. James had legitimately let out a
gasp when he saw them, then insisted they had to have them, and Regulus had mocked him
for it, but he'd been so, so fond.

Something gently nudges his shoulder, and Regulus slowly cranes his head around to stare at
James-as-a-stag. It's odd, in a way, because the eyes are black and round, letting Regulus see
himself reflected in them. James nudges him again with his nose, and Regulus heaves a sigh
as he turns around.

"This is fucking mental. You're all fucking mental," Regulus mutters as he reaches up with
his free hand to gently touch James-as-a-stag above his nose, feeling the stiff fur. "I cannot
believe that this is a thing that's real, and I'm somehow not even surprised." Regulus takes
another sip (a deep swallow, but shh) and reaches up to feel the antlers, which is not an
experience that he ever thought he would get to have. They're startlingly...strong? No, that's
not the word. Firm? Sturdy? Thick? He's not sure how to describe it, but he does know that
the ends are more sharp than he was expecting. He pokes one, then draws his hand away and
shakes his head. After another moment of just taking it all in, Regulus knocks back the rest of
his wine, then says, "Change back."

James does and mumbles, "Hello."

"Hi," Regulus replies flatly.

"Are you angry?" James asks with a frown.

"I'm—" Regulus pauses, flicking his gaze over James' face, then he sighs. "No, I'm not angry.
What would I have to be angry about?"

"I didn't tell you."

"I can work out for myself why."

"I just—" James visibly struggles, his eyebrows furrowed. "I suppose I wanted you to know,
but I couldn't tell you, because it wasn't just my secret. But I also knew you'd eventually work
it out someday, and I—I didn't want you to be upset that I hid it from you, or think I was
lying about the camping to cover up something bad, rather than what it really is, which isn't
bad at all. So, I asked Remus what he wanted to do, because it was his decision, honestly, and
—well, this."

"I understand, James," Regulus murmurs. "Do you think I don't have secrets with my friends?
None such as this, I'll admit, but the basis is the same. I told you, I'm not surprised. Of course
you would all do something like this. Next, you'll be telling me you all put the giant squid in
the lake."

James' face twitches, and he clears his throat. "Well, for the sake of honesty, love…"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Regulus bursts out, whirling around to pour more wine. "Where did
you even get a giant squid? How would you even—no. No, you know what? Not today. Not
today. Not after the fucking day I've had."

"I'm sorry you had a bad day, Regulus," James says softly, pressing in close behind him to
wrap his arms around him, letting Regulus lean back into him.

Regulus sips some wine, then swallows and bitterly says, "I was told twice today that my life
will always lack meaning if I don't find a woman to spend it with."

"Well, that's simply not true. I'm not spending my life with a woman, and I have all the
meaning I need right here in my arms," James replies without missing a beat.

"It's just—frustrating," Regulus whispers. "I'm going to hear that, or some version of that, for
the rest of my life—and so are you. So will Sirius, Remus, Barty, and Evan. Lily, Mary,
Marlene, and Dorcas will hear the opposite, about men. Peter and Pandora, too, if they end up
with someone of the same gender. Everyone who's queer. Some days, I just brush it off,
hardly even notice, don't let it bother me. But then there are days like today when I just—
can't."
"I know. That's alright, you know," James tells him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as he takes
another sip of wine. "It's not fair, and it's not right, and I wish it wasn't this way. But I try to
think of the positives. The changes that are set in motion right now, already. The people who
are coming out of Hogwarts with different beliefs because of us, because of the queer club.
The children going into Hogwarts, who will have a safe space waiting for them when they get
there, so they can be whoever they want to be. The children we'll raise, all of us, who will
grow up accepting and loved. For every bit of disappointment that we have to tolerate, there's
hope to be found. You just have to look for it, love."

"I'm not the best at that," Regulus admits in a croak.

James hums. "That's alright, too. You have me, and I'll show you and remind you and help
you search every time."

"Do you mean that?" Regulus whispers. "About—the children, I mean. If any of us have
them."

"I do," James says simply, "and we will."

Regulus huffs a weak laugh and finishes his last bit of wine, sitting the glass down and
leaning back into James fully, resting his head against his shoulder. "You sound so certain.
I'm worried you're going to kidnap one of the children from the ward you work in."

"Sometimes I'm tempted," James teases.

"Already?" Regulus asks.

James pauses, then says, "I'd raise a child with you as soon as tomorrow, Reg. Surely you
know that. I want—I mean, I've always wanted children, but the thought of them with you…
I'm looking forward to it. Whenever you're ready."
"We should have our own home first," Regulus replies softly, eyes drifting shut. "A proper
home. Get me one of those, and we can start raising as many children as you want."

"Really?" James blurts out, jerking to the side slightly to stare at him with wide eyes. Regulus
blinks. "Love, don't tease me. I will go out and buy a house tonight."

Regulus raises his eyebrows. "That eager, are you?"

"I just—I know what I want," James tells him bluntly. He bites his lip. "Of course, there's no
rush. I'm not trying to—"

"I know, James," Regulus reassures him. "I know."

James smiles a little sheepishly. "I'm just excited to spend the rest of my life with you, that's
all. I'm going to spend the rest of my life excited about it, until my last breath and beyond."

"I really love you, do you know that?" Regulus says softly, and James promptly melts.

"Oh, I love you, too. I really, really do," James breathes out, then surges forward to kiss him.

Regulus forgets he was having a bad day at all.

October, 1979

James doesn't know what he's done wrong.

No matter how much he thinks about it, he can't figure it out. He's been over it and over it in
his head countless times, trying to find his mistake, where he's mucked things up, and he
can't. Did he say something? Make the wrong joke? Did he do something? Did he not do
something? What is it?

Regulus hasn't been smiling lately. He comes to bed late and brings in his own blanket to
sleep under, ensuring he and James don't touch. He doesn't want to be touched. He leans
away whenever James reaches for him; he dodges every kiss, every hug, every hand that
James can't stop himself from holding out towards him. And James knows that Regulus gets
like this sometimes, but this is different. Regulus is almost cold about it, and there's no
underlying fondness in his eyes when looking at him, or his tone when speaking to him.

Regulus hardly fucking talks to him anymore. He curls up in a lone chair with a book and
only speaks when James speaks to him, usually with short, one-word answers. James asks
him how his day was, he says fine. James asks him if he's enjoying his book, he says sure.
James asks him if he's hungry, he says no. James asks him what he thinks about anything,
anything at all, and he says I don't know.

They don't shag, they don't snog, they don't hold each other at night. They don't cook together
anymore, or go out to visit friends together, or go stargazing, or go flying, or spend hours in
bed just talking, or any of the countless things they've made a habit of doing for so long now.
They don't do...anything.

Regulus is mean. Properly mean. The sort of mean that doesn't make James laugh, or get his
heart racing, or has him wanting Regulus to be mean again. It's the sort of mean that makes
James fall silent, and gets his heart to sink, and has him wishing Regulus would stop. His
words are sharp and curt and cold, and he spares no sympathy when telling James bluntly,
and sometimes harshly, to just piss off.

James is fraying at the edges.

Slowly, and all at once, James is starting to unravel. At first, he was worried, and that feeling
still lingers now. Following the worry, there was a rising sense of frustration, which very
easily turned into a mountain of anger. But now? Now, James is just scared. He's really
fucking scared.
The thing is, James has tried to talk to Regulus about it. Of course he has. It's like talking to a
brick wall. Actually, it would be more fruitful to talk to a brick wall. Regulus says he's fine,
everything is fine, and then shuts down the conversation before it can ever really go
anywhere. He will just get up and walk away when he doesn't want to talk, and has.
Sometimes, he even goes entirely non-verbal, not speaking to James, or anyone, and not
seeming able to, or willing to.

It's very hard to be in a relationship with someone who is blatantly pulling away from you.
James is trying so fucking hard, and he's failing. He's getting it all wrong somehow, and he
doesn't know what to do. Everything he tries just seems to push Regulus further and further
away from him, and the harder James tries to cling, the less he has to hold onto.

The worst part is, he doesn't know what he did wrong.

"Have you eaten?" James asks when he gets home to find Regulus sitting in his chair, staring
blankly out a window.

Regulus hums, which isn't a yes or a no.

"I've brought that takeaway you like," James murmurs, a note of hope in his voice that he
can't shake. He wants to go over and wrap his arms around Regulus, just feel him breathe
again, but he doesn't know if he's allowed to anymore.

Regulus doesn't reply at all.

Swallowing, James closes the door and heads into the kitchen to put down the takeaway,
bracing his hands on the counter so he can pretend they're not shaking. He dreads coming
home lately, because he never knows what he's coming home to. Or, no, he does know, and
it's not someone who wants him there.

James hangs his head forward and squeezes his eyes shut. He's had these awful stones
dropping into his stomach recently, like a macabre mockery of his happy rocks. They grow
heavier in his stomach, like pebbles dropped into a lake to make the water ripple. The anxiety
and stress is a constant heavy, squirming sensation he can't get free from.
He's so scared that if he keeps pushing, that will be it. At this point, he doesn't try to figure
out what's wrong anymore, because he's terrified that Regulus will actually answer him, and
it will all fall apart. James can't—he can't do it. If—if Regulus leaves him…

The mere thought makes James' stomach twist and his heart shrivel in his chest. He swallows
harshly and blinks open his eyes, lifting his head slowly, taking measured breaths. He still has
no idea how things could change so drastically, seemingly overnight. One day they're fine,
and the next, Regulus is distant and quiet. James didn't think anything of it, because he gets
that way, but when it continued and kept continuing and only got worse? James is at a loss
now. He's at a loss, and he's so fucking scared he's going to lose Regulus. He can't. Fucking
hell, he can't. He swears it'll kill him.

James pushes away from the counter and warily enters the room with Regulus again. He
doesn't look very well, honestly. Pale with dark circles under his eyes, perpetually fidgeting
hands, and his hair is limp and unwashed. He's been wearing the same clothes for four days,
by James' estimate, which means he hasn't showered in just as long, if not longer. His
expression is lacking the light of life as it always is recently, and he looks—empty. Like he's
withering away.

James is worried. Really, really worried. He doesn't know if Regulus would eat if he didn't
make him. He's constantly trying to get Regulus to get up, to go out into the sunshine, to
spend time with his friends instead of just writing them, or floo-calling them. Despite all of
his concern, Regulus always says the same thing—that he's fine.

"Reg," James says, moving further into the room with helpless trepidation, "I'm going to meet
up with Mary and Lily. Do you want to come with me?"

"No," Regulus replies, and that's all he says.

James hesitates for a moment, then gathers his courage and moves to the side of the chair,
crouching down beside it right in front of Regulus' gaze. Regulus looks at him, but it's like
he's not even seeing him at all. James hesitates yet again, then reaches over to cover Regulus'
hand with his own. "Love—"
"Don't," Regulus interrupts, an edge to his tone as he moves his hand away. He looks away as
well, jaw clenched.

"Right," James rasps thickly, his hand falling limply to the cushion. He holds his breath,
feeling the spike of pain right in the center of his chest, and then he sighs quietly. "Right,
well, make sure you eat the takeaway, yeah? It's still hot now, if you want it. Just—don't
forget before you go to bed again."

"Fine," Regulus murmurs, and James knows that's all he's going to get. That's all he ever gets
these days.

James lingers for a moment, still hopeful, but it's no use. He eventually stands up and heads
for the floo, blinking rapidly to fight the way his eyes sting as he goes.

"Lily's in the kitchen," Mary says as soon as James steps through, and then she clicks her
tongue at him. "Oh, you look upset. Come sit. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm—I'm fine," James replies, because he hasn't told anyone anything. Too scared
to. Too worried to make it more real. The words sting and sour in the back of his throat, the
same lie that Regulus is telling him, and James is repeating it to everyone else.

"Bad day at work?" Mary asks sympathetically.

"No, it was—it was good, actually," James admits as he moves over to sit down next to her.
That's true, at least. Sometimes, James' job is hard, and he does have bad days. He's classified
as a Mind Healer, technically, specializing in the children ward. He visits them and makes
sure they're alright while in Mungos, helping the children with their accidental magic, or
those special cases where they've been through something that makes them need someone to
talk to. That's him.

"Hm." Mary eyes him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, and then she turns her head. "Lily,
James is here!"
"Lovely!" Lily calls back. "Regulus, too?"

"No, just James!"

"Oh. Well, alright, we can just send a plate for him when James leaves. Which one?"

"Don't tell Dorcas, but the one with all creepy vines on it. In fact, give them the whole set!"
Mary shouts.

Lily pokes her head out of the kitchen, eyebrows raised. "We are not giving that away. Dorcas
gave them to us as a gift."

"I'm not entirely convinced she didn't do it just to see how long we'd keep it," Mary mutters.
"Lily, please, they give me the sodding creeps, and they're an eyesore. I bet Baby Black will
appreciate them more than we do."

Regulus doesn't appreciate anything right now, James thinks, then flinches as soon as he's
had the thought. That's an awful thing to think about the man he's in love with, and it's
terrifying, because it might just be true.

Lily and Mary are still lightly bickering, but it fades out as Lily goes back into the kitchen.
Whatever they decided, James doesn't know. He supposes he'll find out when he actually
takes the plate home. James anxiously twists his fingers together, squeezing his knuckles
where they're interlocked until they ache, taking measured breaths again.

"James?" Mary says softly, reaching out to touch his arm. The contact makes him jolt a little
bit, and he blinks at her. She frowns. "Something's wrong."

"I'm—"
"Don't say you're fine. You're clearly not fine. This isn't Hogwarts, and we're not children
anymore, James. I'm not going to just look away when you're upset."

A lump forms in James' throat, making it difficult to speak. He shakes his head. "Mary, I—I
—"

"Is it Regulus?" Mary asks quietly, searching his gaze.

"I think he's going to leave me," James chokes out, the first time he confesses it, and the
words wrench out of him like a knife. Once it goes in, you're never supposed to pull it out
again, or you'll lose too much blood. James is a pulsing wound, bleeding out, feeling like he's
been sliced from his throat to his navel, everything in his chest exposed and crumbling. He
curls forward and presses his hand to his sternum as he heaves an abrupt sob, because the
words leave him undone entirely.

Mary slides closer and slips an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into her chest and
curling her other arm around his head like she's protecting him. He's weeping like he's dying,
and she murmurs to him, shushing him. "It's alright, James. You're alright. Shh, everything is
going to be alright."

"I don't—I don't know what I did," James whines, crying so hard that he's trembling. He can
barely speak, and his eyes are streaming. It's not alright, he's not alright, and he doesn't think
everything is going to be alright at all. "Mary, I don't know what I—what happened, what
went wrong, but something did. Something is—it's not—and I can't. I can't do it. I love him
so—I love him so much. I don't know what I did wrong, but he's not—I don't think he—he
—"

"Alright, James, alright. Just breathe. Listen to me, just breathe, yeah?" Mary whispers
fiercely, yanking him closer and holding him tight, letting him cling to her.

James rattles apart in her arms, and she holds him through it, and she's still holding him when
he's just there, in pieces. The calm comes to him in waves, slowly lapping over him until his
tears stop, until he can breathe. He doesn't feel better. He isn't actually calmer; he's only
released a tiny bit of what's built up, and that has to be enough. If he were to give in and lose
it all, he fears he would be a ball curled on her floor, an utter mess with no possible way to
pick himself back up again.
He can't do that for a variety of reasons, so he deals with the pressure, trying not to burst like
a backed up pipe. He pulls away hard and all at once, making a rough sound into his palms as
he scrubs his hands over his face. Angrily rubs at his tears with a harsh sniffle, opening his
mouth to exhale a wet breath, and then he slumps forward and braces one hand to his
forehead. Breathes. He just keeps breathing.

"James," Mary prompts gently.

"I'm sorry. That's not—" James clenches his jaw and lifts his head. "I'm not trying to unload
on you, Mary. I—I know that you'll be here for me, of course I do, but it's—it's complicated.
You can't—" He swallows. "You can't tell anyone."

Mary rubs his arm, nodding. "I won't. I know this is… Well, whatever it is, it's a private
matter. That doesn't mean you should feel as if you can't talk to your friends about it. I
promise you, it goes no further than me."

"Thank you," James croaks.

"I'm—" Mary visibly hesitates, lips curling down. "Look, I won't try to pry the details out of
you, but all couples fight, James. They—they go through rough times, no matter how in love
they are. Not every rough time is the end; you know that, don't you?"

James swallows harshly and whispers, "I think this one is."

"And what does Regulus think?" Mary asks quietly.

"I don't know," James admits, "but I can guess."

Mary shakes her head. "Don't guess. Ask."

"He won't talk to me, Mary."

"Then you talk to him."

"I'm scared," James says, and his voice cracks. "Because what if it is the end? What if—what
if I lose him? What if I've already lost him?"

"James," Mary says sadly, "you won't know until you ask, and you need to know. It's eating
you alive. If—if it is the end, then you won't be doing what's best for you or him by avoiding
it. I know that's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth."

"Supper is ready! Bon appétit!" Lily calls from the kitchen.

"I'll go keep her busy," Mary murmurs. "Go to the loo, clean your face, then come eat. After,
go home and talk to him."

James exhales shakily. "Okay."

So, that's what James sets out to do, because Mary is right. She's never wrong. As terrified as
he is, avoiding it is only making things worse for him, especially in his own head.

Supper with Mary and Lily is alright for the most part. Lily seems to pick up on his subdued
mood, but she respects it when he says he's just tired, rather than saying he's fine when he's
not. He needs to stop doing that, and so does Regulus. Saying he's tired is a little bit true, at
least, because he's as drained as he's ever been. Nonetheless, it is nice getting to chat with
Mary and Lily in their lovely little flat, quaint and artsy, full of pops of color and warmth.

James sees Lily at least an hour a few days a week, since they both work at Mungos. He sees
Remus, Sirius, and Peter every day, since they all live within spitting distance from each
other. Peter is spending more and more time with this new girl he clearly fancies from work,
so he's not at the flat as often, going on dates a few times a week at this point. He sees
Marlene and Dorcas a few times a month, at least twice since they all meet up at a pub as one
big group bi-weekly, but he'll occasionally stop by their flat, or they'll come to his. He sees
Evan more than Barty, simply because they go get lunch randomly when one of them will
reach out and offer, but Evan and Barty are regularly over at his flat to see Regulus. Pandora,
the one who was so upset about never seeing them, has gone off on a grand adventure
traveling the world with some eccentric bloke she's fallen in love with, but she does show up
unannounced for visits, and she writes every single one of them with diligence, sometimes
sending gifts when she does.

They're all living their lives separately, but working to stay together and remain close. Life is
busy, and it doesn't slow down for anyone, and yet they all try their best to find time for each
other anyway. Sometimes they manage it, sometimes they don't, but the important bit is that
they try.

It reminds James how hard he's trying with Regulus, and he can feel the dread crawling under
his skin when he makes it back home. It's quiet when he steps out, and Regulus is no longer
in his chair. The first thing James does is take the plate that Lily and Mary sent with him to
the kitchen, his heart sinking when he sees the takeaway still there, untouched.

Regulus is located in their room, sitting at the foot of it with his hands threaded in his lap.
Beside his feet, there's a bag.

It's packed.

James stares at it, quite literally feeling his heart break in his chest. There's a shaky quality to
his breathing already, along with a loud ringing in his ears. He stares at that bag full of all the
things Regulus owns and yearns to crawl inside it, too. Regulus has him. He's always had
him. He'll always have him, so if he's taking what's his to claim, he should pack James up and
carry him off when he goes.

Slowly, with effort, James drags his gaze from the bag to look at Regulus, who swallows the
moment their eyes meet, and James knows. As it turns out, he doesn't have to ask.

This is the end.

"My father is dead," Regulus announces, which is honestly the last thing James expected to
hear at this particular moment. It's actually enough to make him pause in pure surprise,
blinking. "He fell ill not long after I was forced out, apparently, then died a few weeks ago,
now. My mother sent me a letter a few days after the funeral, explaining this and—and the
fact that she has also fallen ill from the grief, supposedly. She isn't sure how long she has, and
no one will tend to her. Not Bellatrix, or Narcissa, or any other distant relative she thought to
reach out to before her last resort. Me."

"You," James repeats, his mind utterly blank.

"Yes," Regulus says, his voice carefully measured, not a waver to be found. "According to
her, despite—everything, I have a duty to my family that involves taking care of her in the
last years of her life. I think, really and truly, that she just doesn't want to be alone, and no
one else would come."

"No one else," James says hoarsely, just a broken record for all the things Regulus has
already said to him. "No one else—but you. Because you're—you're going to—"

"Yes," Regulus cuts in yet again, and he holds James' gaze, not looking away. "I should have
—well, I shouldn't have made this more difficult by...waiting. I had—I wrote a letter, but I
just—I wanted to tell you thank you for—" He falters, swallowing convulsively, and it's the
first crack, the first peek of emotion that threatens to spill out of him, but he just clenches his
jaw and exhales sharply. "I wanted to thank you for—for being you, and giving me the best
—"

James watches him give up, his eyes sinking shut as he clamps down on his bottom lip with
his teeth, and he looks away as his face crumbles. It's only a split second, and then he has it
all back under control again, but before he ever takes a breath and gathers the shards of
himself together in shaking hands, James sees him like that and shatters, too.

"So, it's not me, then?" James croaks.

Regulus' head swivels towards him, slowly. "You?"

"I thought…" James reaches up with a shaking hand and drags it over his mouth, feeling like
a loose thread, being tugged on slowly, coming undone. "I thought I had done something
wrong, Regulus. I thought you didn't—" The words lodge in his throat, and he has to fight to
get them out, because they hurt. It all hurts. "I thought you didn't want me anymore."

"What?" Regulus whispers, his eyes widening slightly with so much genuine shock that
James would laugh if this situation allowed for it, but it doesn't. Regulus stares at James in
pure disbelief, as if he's never heard of something so ridiculous, like the mere idea baffles
him. "No. Gods, no, James. That's not even—why would you think that?"

"Because you wouldn't fucking talk to me!" James explodes, and he isn't prepared for the
abrupt boiling over any more than Regulus is. "You wouldn't have anything to do with me,
and you barely fucking looked at me. You pulled away! All you've been doing is pulling
away, so what else am I supposed to think?! What do I do with that? What do I do with
nothing?!"

"James," Regulus says, flinching, and it's that—it's the flinch that takes all the fight out of
James in a heartbeat.

The anger washes out until it's just fear, and pain; this heavy weight on his shoulders and an
echo of Regulus' flinch from his heart. "What was I supposed to do?"

"I'm sorry I ever made you think—I never intended to make you feel—" Regulus exhales
shakily and blinks harshly, his eyes suspiciously wet. "James, you are everything to me. I
want—I will always want you. Even when I'm fucking dead, my ghost is going to come back
just carry on wanting you. This, all of this, has not very much to do with you at all, and you
don't know—you can't possibly know—but you are the reason I have been getting up in the
mornings, because sometimes I lay there and think it will kill me to move, as if it's the
hardest thing I have ever done, and the only thing that gets me through it is the reward of
getting to see you when I get up."

"Regulus," James whispers, his vision blurring, his heart clenching violently in his chest,
"you—you are not fine."

"I'm not, no," Regulus admits quietly, then gives a tiny, tight smile as he dips down to grab
his bag. His fingers are shaking as he wraps them around the handle. "But—well, maybe it's
your influence, but I do believe that, one day, I will be."

"You're leaving," James says, numb.

Regulus takes a deep breath, then nods. "I am. I—"

"Don't. Don't go," James chokes out, begging without any shame. He would hit his knees
before Regulus, and he would do it gladly, if that's what it took. "Please don't, Regulus. Just
stay here, with me. Don't do this. Don't leave."

James stumbles forward, and Regulus visibly stiffens as if he's turning to marble before
James' very eyes. James reaches out and touches him anyway, fingers gently brushing over
the hand holding the bag. It's like his touch is magic, just the briefest caress and Regulus'
fingers unlock, the bag hitting the floor with a dull thump. His eyes sink shut as he inhales
sharply, shaking underneath the tips of James' fingers like he's seconds from falling apart.

"You can't," Regulus rasps, his eyes still shut. "That's not fair, James. As long as you're
touching me, I won't go anywhere, and I—I—" His breath seems to punch out of him, and he
sways forward, closer, with a weak noise. "I've been trying so hard, you don't even
understand, but I miss you so much. This is hard enough, so please—James, please just let
me go."

"I don't want you to go," James says feebly, and he slides his hand down until he can gingerly
—with care—curl his pinky around Regulus', just a tiny point of contact, and that alone has
the power to break him when James wasn't even aware that he contained that power in him at
all.

"I have to," Regulus says thickly, releasing a broken noise from the back of his throat. Then,
suddenly, he's crying very hard as he leans into James and just—goes limp. He'd likely sink
to the floor if not for James' arms hastily swinging up to wrap around him, their pinkies
slipping away as everything goes from zero to one hundred so fast that James can barely keep
up with it all. Regulus fists one hand in the front of James' shirt, clinging, and he chants, "I
have to, I have to, I have to. I'm so sorry, James. I have to. He's dead, and she's dying, and I
have to. I don't have a choice. I have to, I have to, I—"
James feels a spike of fear skitter down his spine, his heart racing, because this goes beyond
just a couple having issues; this is—this is really bad. Regulus is crying so hard that he's
hyperventilating, and he's clinging to James so tight that it's like he thinks there's something
trying to yank him away. He just keeps repeating the same words over and over, and he is
quite literally falling apart in James' arms.

James is admittedly panicking, overflowing with worry, and not sure what he's supposed to
do. But, despite all of that, he finds himself acting mostly on instinct anyway. He can't hold
Regulus up and reach for his wand, so he sees them safely to the floor, cradling Regulus close
once they're down there. It's concerning that Regulus doesn't even seem to notice the
transition; he just keeps sobbing against James' shoulder, his entire body shaking so hard that
James is genuinely terrified. He fumbles for his wand the moment he gets the chance.

"Expecto patronum!" James says as firmly as he can, having to close his eyes and try three
more times before his glowing Prongs manages to come galloping out of the end of his wand.
He exhales in relief, then relays his message. "Tell Sirius: get over here now. Just him."

Prongs darts away, hopping elegantly towards the wall to disappear through it. He doesn't
have far to go, as Sirius is right across the hall. James puts his wand down and lifts his hand
to cup the back of Regulus' head, shakily pushing his fingers through Regulus' hair.

"Come on, love, you have to breathe," James whispers, because he can literally hear Regulus
struggling to. He's practically gasping for air through his deep, guttural sobs, only seeming to
grow more distressed and cry harder by the second. He's not even chanting anymore, just
weeping.

James thankfully doesn't have to wait that long for Sirius to show up. He bursts in like he's
worried someone might be dying, then freezes as soon as he sees the, quite frankly, very
upsetting scene that James and Regulus paint at the moment. He meets James' eyes for just a
second, and then he's moving over to crouch down beside them.

"Regulus," Sirius says. Then, when that gets no response, his voice gets firmer. "Regulus.
Look at me."

It takes a long moment, as well as the encouragement of James nudging the side of his head
with his hand, but Regulus does dutifully lift his head.
"Stop crying," Sirius orders, his voice sharp, and Regulus sucks in a stuttering breath,
blinking tears out of his eyes. A quiet sound escapes him, and Sirius only gets sharper, colder,
even a bit harsher. "Stop crying, Regulus. Now."

And, world of wonders, Regulus does. That seems to do the trick, for some reason. Despite
everything, Regulus breathes in shakily and stares at Sirius without a word, slowly breathing
out. Tears cling to his eyelashes, and his face is red and streaked, but he has miraculously
stopped sobbing. He's even breathing now, at least a little better than before.

Sirius' voice is so much softer all of a sudden, even tender and laced with concern as he
murmurs, "In and out, Reggie, that's it. I just need you to breathe."

"Okay," Regulus croaks, his voice horribly raw and thin at the same time, and he sits right
there and does what Sirius needs him to do. He breathes. He doesn't protest when James
carefully reaches up and swipes at his cheeks with his thumbs, gently dashing away his tears.

"Can you talk?" Sirius asks, eventually.

Regulus is silent for a long moment, then says, "Yes."

"What's wrong?" Sirius murmurs.

"I'm—I have to leave," Regulus croaks, and James is grateful, at least, that he's
acknowledging it as a problem. Sirius leans back a little, startled. "Father is dead, Sirius."

Sirius' expression flickers with surprise, then something else, then goes blank. He's silent for
a long moment, gaze flicking towards James before quickly flitting away, landing on Regulus
again. "Right. Well… The funeral, then?"
"It's already come and gone," Regulus says, the faintest tremble to his voice that honestly
breaks James' heart. Sirius' expression tightens. "We were left out on purpose. Mother wrote
to me to inform me days afterwards. I never even knew he was sick. I—the last thing he said
to me was that—that I'm not his son, and it's not in his obituary that he's survived by two
sons. I checked, Sirius. They didn't—they—"

"Regulus," Sirius cuts in, his voice steady again, and Regulus goes back to breathing. He
slumps against James once more from where he was starting to tense up. "We don't have to
talk about that right now, not when you're—" He stops, then he shakes his head. "We don't
have to talk about that yet. If it's not the funeral you're going to, where are you going?"

"Mother says she's ill," Regulus replies, and Sirius seems to instantly get it, even before
Regulus explains. His lips press into a thin line. "She wrote to me, said I had to—and no one
else will go, Sirius. She's alone in that house, dying, and I—"

"No," Sirius says simply.

Regulus halts, then swallows. "No? But I have to. I never made the choice to leave in the first
place, and she—"

"You don't have to," Sirius interrupts, leaving no room for arguments in his tone. "Just
because you didn't choose to leave doesn't mean you're not grateful to be out, Reg."

"Mother said—"

"I don't care what Mother said. Mother is a manipulative bitch with no heart. Do you want to
go? Is that it?"

"I—" Regulus can't seem to finish.

James cards his fingers through his hair again. "I'd say no. The thought—fucking hell, love,
it's killing you. Just the thought of going there has been making you so unhappy. I thought it
was me, but it's this."

"What?" Sirius asks, flicking his gaze between them.

"This idiot thought I didn't want him anymore," Regulus says weakly, huffing a slightly
incredulous laugh like the mere idea is preposterous. He looks at James, eyes sad. "No, it was
never you. It could never be you. You never make me unhappy."

Sirius exhales heavily and reaches out to grip Regulus' shoulder, drawing his gaze. "You don't
have to go back. You're not obligated, Regulus. You're not a bad son, or a bad person, for not
going back. You're not here on the terms that the family kicked you out, then forced to return
when they change their minds—that's not how it works. Listen to me, you're out, and you're
happy being out, and that's enough. That's all that matters. I didn't bring you with me when I
left, but I'll be damned before I just let you go back. You're not going, alright? You don't have
to go. You never have to."

"She's going to die alone in that house," Regulus rasps.

"So be it," Sirius declares. "Let her rot. It's what she brought on herself, Regulus. There's a
reason that it's this way."

"She has no one to take care of her," Regulus protests.

"Well, she didn't take care of anyone else in her life, did she?" Sirius challenges. He heaves a
sigh. "Regulus, she made her choices. After all her cruelty, it's not being cruel to let her live
with them. I don't know if she's actually sick; we don't know that, because she would
certainly claim to be, even if she's not, just to pull you back in. And, if she is, then she has
that house and more than enough money to hire a caretaker. It doesn't fall on us, do you
understand? They made sure of that."

Regulus' eyes fill with tears, but they don't fall. His voice is a mere breath when he whispers,
"Sometimes, I miss them."
Sirius' face twitches, something flashing in his eyes, but ultimately, all he says is an equally
quiet, "I know."

"If—if you wanted to go back," James says, emphasizing what matters in that sentence, "then
I would go with you."

"What?" Regulus blinks, jerking against him a little bit, then peeling back as he stares at him
with wide eyes. His voice is stronger than it has been this entire time when he speaks next.
"No. Absolutely not, James. I would never subject you to that."

James' heart clenches. "Then why would you subject yourself to it, Regulus?"

"I—" Regulus opens and closes his mouth. "She's my mother."

"And I'm with you," James replies simply. "Where you go, I follow. Surely you know that by
now, love."

"She's my mother, too," Sirius adds with a bitter twist to his lips. "Shall I go as well? Should I
be forced to deal with it?"

"No, of course not," Regulus answers automatically.

Sirius leans in, eyebrows raised. "Neither should you. If I don't, you don't. If you wouldn't
make me, or James, or any other unfortunate person in this world do it—why does it fall on
you? It doesn't fall on you."

"I never…" Regulus grimaces. "I never responded to her. I was just going to show up, but I—
I wanted to at least—" He flicks his gaze towards James, then lowers his eyes altogether,
speaking to his lap. "I don't know what to do."
"I do," Sirius says simply, pushing to his feet. "Stay here. No one move. I will return in a
moment."

With that, Sirius leaves, and James is left alone with Regulus in silence. He looks tired, and
very fucking sad, and still worryingly empty. James doesn't even know where to start.

Regulus apparently does. "I'm sorry."

"Were you planning to leave while I was gone?" James asks quietly. "Just go, leave behind a
letter, and let me come home to find that you'd already left?"

"I thought that's what I would do," Regulus admits, "but when it came down to it, I couldn't. I
wanted to say goodbye. I know I haven't been good to you, or—or good at all, and I'm—"

"You're grieving your father, Regulus," James says. "You're suffering under the pressure your
mother put on you. I'm not angry with you for those things. I'm not—angry at all, really. I'm
upset because you pushed me away. I'm upset because you wouldn't talk to me, or even just—
just express that you weren't ready or able to talk. You lied to me and said you were fine. I
wish I could have been here for you about this; I want to be here for you about anything and
everything. We're in this together, aren't we? But you shut me out."

"I know." Regulus squeezes his eyes shut, turning his face away, his hands balled into fists in
his lap. His voice is low and strained when he speaks again. "I know, James. It was just too
much. All of it was too much. I don't want to grieve, and yet I am, and it's not fair. They don't
deserve the pain of loss I feel for them, and I know that, but it's there. I—I felt I had to go,
and I was so—I was so angry at you. I—"

"You were angry at me?" James whispers.

"Yes," Regulus chokes out. "Because I felt I had to leave, and every day, you made that
harder. I was angry because I wanted to just—fall into you, and cry, and have you hold me
and tell me I didn't have to go. I wanted this, and the worst part is that I knew you would. In a
split second, no matter how I treated you, I knew you would do it. I pulled away, because
you're always pulling me in, do you understand? I never want to leave you, but I felt I had no
choice, and it wasn't fair."

"You have a choice," James tells him. "You always have a choice, Regulus. If you don't want
to leave me, then don't. I was—I was so scared."

"I'm sorry," Regulus says, the apology escaping him on a quiet whimper. When he lifts his
eyes, he's crying again. "I'm so sorry, James. I'm not—I'm not okay right now, but that's no
excuse for how I treated you, and what I put you through. It was wrong. I know that. If—if
you can't—if you need—" He chokes, exhaling sharply as he curls forward a bit, like he's
taking a blunt object to the chest. "If it's best for you that we're not together, after what I did,
then I—I—"

James can see that he's not going to be able to say it. He's trying, and he's failing. He can't get
the words out, and James is grateful. No part of him wants to hear it. "Stop," he breathes out
softly, reaching up to cradle Regulus' cheeks, swiping his tears away again. "Stop it, Regulus.
That's not what's best for me, or you. I'm not leaving you, and you're not leaving me; we'll
work through this together. I'm not saying there aren't things we need to work on, but the
solution isn't to break up, not when we love each other as we do. That's a choice, too, love.
I'm not making it. Are you?"

"No. Gods, no," Regulus gasps out, sinking into him with a deep, gusty sigh of relief. James
gathers him up in his arms and holds him, pressing his face to his hair. "I love you, James. I
love you so much."

"I love you, too," James promises.

Regulus tucks his face against James' throat and whispers, "I miss you."

"You don't have to miss what you never lost," James whispers back.

"And yet," Regulus replies in a rasp.

James closes his eyes. "I know, love, I know. Me too."

They're quiet after that, just holding onto each other and breathing. They don't move again or
speak until Sirius comes sweeping back into the room. He has parchment in his hands and a
small pouch clasped together, looking full, and he comes to sit down right next to them,
clearing his throat.

"Mother," Sirius begins reading, "the news of father's passing was a surprise. Our
condolences for your loss, as he is no loss to the children he no longer claimed by the time of
his death. It's not entirely clear if disowned children are allowed to mourn, and with no guide
on how to proceed, we would hate to smear his memory by doing so. It's a shame you've
fallen ill in your grief, but we're respecting your wishes, and Father's, by not imposing on you
or the house we were banished from. All we can offer you now is the galleons we've sent
with this letter to hopefully aid you in hiring someone to help ease your inevitable demise
that will surely approach someday. Don't worry, we can spare the money, due to our own
success in our lives, despite being cut off from the support of our family. It's in your best
interest to have your funeral planned out ahead, and all your affairs in order before you die,
because as you wished, we have no obligation to you, or that house, anymore. May you rot in
the nine circles of Hell with Father." Sirius looks up. "Signed: the sons you never wanted."

Regulus stares at him with wide eyes. "You're not going to actually send that, are you?"

"Yes, in fact I am," Sirius replies boldly. "The money, too. If we're very lucky, it will make
her head explode."

"Oh gods," Regulus chokes out, and then he starts laughing. It seems to spill out of him, the
laughter of pure wonder, and it's not the first time James has ever seen Regulus look at Sirius
as if he's his hero, as if he admires him more than anyone else, but it's so blatant and obvious
right here and now that even Sirius seems to see it, his face softening.

"I'm going to send it, and then we'll make sure anything she tries to send back to either of us
can't reach us, and that's that. I would sooner walk back into that house and kill her myself so
you don't have to worry with the whole thing than let you go back there when you don't want
to," Sirius tells him. "So, what will it be? Am I going to Azkaban, or am I sending a letter?
Just let me know what works for you."
"Send it," Regulus says after a long moment of deliberation, and Sirius hums in approval.

Nodding, Sirius folds the letter up. "I'll go do that, then. And you, Reggie, you need a
shower."

"I—" Regulus blinks, then looks down at himself, wrinkling his nose like he's only just now
becoming aware of the state of himself. "Right. I...yeah."

"Come on, up you get," Sirius declares, springing to his feet and ushering James and Regulus
to do the same.

Regulus moves slowly, like he's weary down to his bones, but he does move. James has to
resist the ridiculous urge to follow him wherever he goes, wanting to scoop him up and do
every little thing for him, but he knows that's not what Regulus needs. He forces himself to
keep quiet and stay in place, letting Regulus pick himself back up and carry on. James can
support him, beside him, because that's what he needs.

When Regulus is in the shower, James shuffles behind Sirius into the sitting room, feeling
oddly hollow. He doesn't really know what to make of it, all that he's feeling. It's strange,
because the fear is still lingering. It's muted and different, but it's there. This is one of those
things that you have to take one day at a time, he thinks, and the first day is never easy.

Sirius whirls around on him, and James doesn't know what he's expecting, but it's not for
Sirius to snatch him into a hug. For some reason, James just doesn't see it coming, and that's
probably why it's so easy for him to break down. He does almost as soon as he's in Sirius'
arms, his face crumbling as the pipe bursts, and he's not just releasing a little bit of pressure
now. He releases it all.

Everything built up comes flowing out, because it still exists, and it needs somewhere to go.
No matter if all his fear and anxiety and stress was about something that never happened, he
can still feel it, and he can't help but want to let it out. He wants to get rid of it, to purge it
from him like a cleanse. Sirius catches it all, helping him do it.
"Oh, Merlin," James croaks when he can speak, when his eyes are puffy but no longer
streaming, when his breathing is wonky but his chest doesn't hurt anymore.

"Yeah," Sirius says softly, pulling back and cupping the side of James' neck, squeezing the
divot at where it meets his shoulder as he lets out a shaky breath of his own. James thinks that
Sirius needed that just as much as he did. "That was fucking awful, wasn't it?"

"It really was," James admits. "It—it has been, for a while."

Sirius' face softens with sympathy. "Thank you for calling me. He's—this is about Father, too.
It's going to be harder for him than it is for me. He always—well, he's always loved them
more than they ever deserved."

"Is it hard for you?" James asks carefully. "Are you alright?"

"No, and yes. Yes, and no." Sirius gives a slightly sad smile and rolls his shoulders in a shrug.
"It's complicated, mate. Always has been for me, you know that. But I—I'll be alright, and so
will Regulus, soon enough. I don't know what you two plan to do, or what's really going on,
and maybe it's selfish of me to ask this of you, James, but—but please don't—"

"I'm not leaving him," James cuts in firmly, and Sirius visibly sags with relief. "We—we have
some things to work on, and a lot to talk about, but I'm not leaving him. I love him."

"He loves you," Sirius replies quietly. "I can see it."

James isn't sure how, but despite everything, that manages to bring a small smile to his face.
"It's going to be okay. We'll be okay. Are you really going to send that letter?"

"Yes," Sirius answers promptly. "I'm going to do that, then immediately crawl into bed with
Remus and force him to cuddle me. Maybe cry. I don't know, we'll see."
"Do you need me?" James asks immediately.

"I'll always need you, James, but right now, he needs you more," Sirius says, nodding
towards the loo, where Regulus is showering. "Thank you."

"No, thank you," James counters. "It wasn't me he needed just now, Sirius. It was you."

Sirius gives a tiny smile. "Yes, well, that's why we're here, I reckon. I love you, you know
that?"

James huffs out a quiet laugh and nods, reaching out to pull Sirius in another quick hug.
When they break apart, James gives him a gentle shove. "I know, and I love you just the
same. Now go send your letter and have Remus coddle you."

"Cheers," Sirius murmurs, lips twitching, and then he's gone.

James takes a moment just to breathe, then sets his shoulders and turns around to head to his
room. He stops by the door to the loo to knock and make sure Regulus is alright, irrationally
worried, but Regulus calls that he's fine; ironically, James believes him this time. He exhales,
then heads into his room, practically crawling into bed.

He lays there for a long time without moving, just staring up at the ceiling, not really thinking
much at all. It's mostly just feeling his feelings, coming to terms with them, with everything.
Eventually, the shower cuts off, and a few minutes later, Regulus comes easing into the room,
clean and smelling of his lovely, spicy mangoes. He looks better, just from a shower, color in
his cheeks and less weariness to how he moves. His eyes are still tired, though, and he visibly
hesitates as he stops on his side of the bed.

"Can I…?" Regulus trails off, sounding heartbreakingly unsure as he gestures to the bed.

"Of course," James replies, because of course. He lets one arm fall to the side on the bed in
offering, his stomach squirming with nerves, but his own uncertainty turns out to be all for
naught. Regulus practically scrambles to get into bed, pressing himself right up against James
as close as he can get.

Regulus breathes out harshly. "Fuck." He twists his fingers in James' shirt and shakes. "I was
—I couldn't handle you being close, touching me, because I was scared I would just fall
apart. I didn't want to, but I knew you'd let me. I knew you'd make me feel like it was alright
if I did."

"It is," James murmurs, curling his arm up around Regulus and gently delving his fingers into
his damp hair. He kneads tenderly at his scalp. "It's alright, Regulus. You can. You don't have
to stop yourself from being upset, and you can let yourself feel bad, love. You taught me that,
remember?"

"But I don't want to be, not about this, not for them," Regulus confesses.

"I know," James says softly. "Come here."

Regulus shifts closer as much as he can, threading one leg between James', and James turns
on his side to press his face against Regulus' throat. They wrap each other up, both giving
comfort and taking it all at once. They don't cry; they just hold on and breathe, because
sometimes that's all you can do.

Well, that's all they're doing until Regulus abruptly snorts. It's an inelegant, possibly
inappropriate sound, given the whole atmosphere of this moment. James lifts his head,
blinking, startled to find Regulus on the verge of what seems to be absurd laughter. "Er,
what? Regulus, what's funny?"

"I just—" Regulus tucks his lips in, then apparently gives in and just laughs again, a quiet
one. It's short, but real, and the warmth of it warms James. "Well, I just had the thought, but
I'm going to have to unpack, aren't I?"

"Oh," James says, then, "yes, you do."

They stare at each other, and again, a slightly ridiculous laugh tumbles out of Regulus'
mouth, and now that he knows why, James can't help but join him. It doesn't last, the somber
mood creeping back in, but they hold each other through that, too.

Later, Regulus will unpack, and James will help him.

February, 1980

Regulus loves the house. He's trying so very hard to pretend he's not helplessly in love with
the house, because he doesn't want to influence James' opinion (they're meant to agree), but
he can barely contain how much he loves this house.

"Oh, you love it," James says, because he knows him so well.

"It's fine," Regulus replies as casually as possible. He clears his throat. "What do you think
about it?"

James' lips twitch. "I think you love it."

"Do you love it?" Regulus asks, narrowing his eyes at him.

"Mate, this is fucking brilliant," Peter bellows from another room, and then Sirius comes
running directly past them, cackling as Pandora chases him. Somewhere in the distance,
Dorcas can be heard bickering with Barty, and Evan and Remus are outside, checking the
backyard for...well, Regulus doesn't actually know; he thinks they just want a break from
everyone else, at this point.

"Potter!" Lily shouts. "You can't have this place! I want it!"
"Oh, I'm going to live in the fucking attic!" Marlene calls, shrieking with laughter. There's a
loud thump, and then Mary starts cursing up a storm.

"Why did we invite them?" Regulus mutters, sighing.

"We thought getting their opinions would help us choose a house more easily," James
reminds him.

"Our mistake," Regulus says flatly.

James snorts. "Well, they hated the last one, so that did help, technically. They clearly
approve of this one."

"Yes, obviously, but do you?" Regulus insists. "James, you're not saying either way."

"Admit you love it first," James says, breaking out into a grin.

Regulus wavers, then scowls. "Yes, alright, I do. But if you don't, then we won't get it. We
have to agree, James. And don't say you like it if you don't, just because I have."

"Oi, Evans!" James calls.

"That's MacDonald-Evans to you!" Mary declares loudly from down the hall. "Well, to
everyone, really, but I digress."

"What?" Lily asks as she comes into the kitchen, and as usual, the first thing that Regulus
does is glance at her stomach, which he's been doing with increasing frequency as of late. He
keeps waiting for her to start showing, but at only three months in, she hasn't yet.
"Tell Regulus what I said as soon as we got here," James says with a clear note of satisfaction
in his voice.

Lily raises her eyebrows, lips twitching. "I believe your exact words were, oh, this is it, this is
our house."

"Really?" Regulus narrows his eyes at her. "Did he actually, or are you just saying that
because—"

"Regulus," Lily cuts in, amused, "I have no need to lie to you to appease you, or give into
everything you want. That's what James said. Now, tell me you have a blood pop on you."

Regulus jolts, then immediately starts patting his pockets to draw out one of the bloop pops
he's always carrying around on him these days. That seems to be Lily's current craving
almost constantly, along with treacle tart. At least three different people have blood pops
around them or on their person at all times, just in case. Lily groans as soon as he holds it out,
snatching it from his hand and opening it with a sigh. She pops it in her mouth, smiles at him
around it, then winks at James and sweeps back out.

"I knew it as soon as I saw it," James says when Regulus turns towards him. He's beaming.
"This is it, isn't it?"

"I think so," Regulus replies, a helpless smile tugging at his lips. "You really love it?"

"I do," James promises, and Regulus believes him.

July, 1980
"He's so fucking tiny," James breathes out from where he and Sirius are peering over Mary's
shoulders, staring down at the sleeping infant in her arms. Lily is asleep in the hospital bed,
and Remus is passed out in the chair next to her, their hands loosely linked on the blanket.

"He was premature, so of course he is," Mary murmurs, gently curling her finger over his
cheek. They all know the story, because Lily was ranting and raving about it the entire way to
St. Mungos while clutching at Sirius' hand so hard that he was pale. Harry was four and half
weeks early, because Mary had brought tea that her aunt gave her that was supposed to help
women go into labor, and in her defense, she did tell Lily about it and keep it stored away for
when it would need to be used.

The problem was, Lily was having trouble sleeping, so she decided a cup of tea might help,
only for them to have no tea. She searched her cabinets, located tea, and forgot that it was the
special tea until after she'd already had two cups.

Really, she said she didn't think anything of it, at least until four hours before midnight, on
July 30th, when she found out that the tea was not a joke. It got the job done, needless to say,
and after six hours of labor, on July 31st, Harry was born.

James didn't think there was anything in this world that could be more beautiful than Regulus
Black, but Harry is without a doubt the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"He looks angry about being here," Regulus whispers, scanning Harry's face from his chair
right next to Mary's. There is, hilariously enough, sympathy in his voice, like he, too, knows
what it's like to be angry about being here. He goes on to say as much. "We never even ask to
be born."

"Reggie, do not put your general distaste with existence on my godson," Sirius mutters,
leaning forward to peer at Harry, so close that his cheek bumps into Mary's. They're so
entranced by Harry that neither of them even notice.

"Yeah, might be best," Mary murmurs, then looks up with a small smile and sits up, carefully
leaning towards Regulus. "Do you want to hold him?"
"No," Regulus blurts out, freezing in place, and they all stare at him. His face turns red. "I
just—I don't know if… Mary, he's so small. What if I hurt him?"

"You're not going to hurt him," Mary assures him. "Put your arms together, make a little
cradle for him, and I'll settle him in for you, yeah? There you go."

Regulus does as he's told, hesitantly, and Mary murmurs to him as she shifts around. The
transition from her arms to Regulus' makes Harry release a quiet grunt, but he doesn't wake
up. James figures he's knackered; being born is hard work, he reckons. He didn't see it
happen, as the only people Lily allowed in the room was Mary, Marlene, and Remus.
Marlene fainted, so she's with Dorcas now, going to get food and hopefully recover a bit. She
did get to meet her godson before she left, though. Remus was apparently the calmest one
throughout the whole thing, which is both hilarious to James, and also admirable. Of course
he would be.

Sirius and James share a look the moment Regulus settles back in his chair with Harry,
moving slowly like he's afraid to move too much at all. With that one look, they both shuffle
around to stoop down behind Regulus' chair instead, peering over his shoulders to continue
watching Harry. He's magnificent. He's just sleeping, breathing, but he's bloody magnificent.

It's quiet for a while, and no one breaks the peaceful silence until the door creaks open, and
Peter comes shuffling in, his eyes a little wild. He comes to a halt when he sees Harry, his
wide eyes somehow getting rounder, and then he nearly trips in his haste to crowd behind
Regulus, too.

"Oh, look at him," Peter breathes out, sounding awed. "Look at our little baby. He's so small.
Oh, I'm—"

"Are you crying?" Mary asks, stifling a laugh, as if she also didn't weep when she first got
Harry into her arms.

"He's beautiful," Peter sniffles, choked-up.

"Oh, Pete," James says fondly, his chest warm.

Peter clears his throat, never taking his eyes off of Harry. "I'm sorry I'm late. I got a bit held
up. Did you know there's an entire pack of Slytherins outside, Reg? And one Ravenclaw."

"Yes, they've already been in," Regulus says quietly. "The Healers don't like too many people
in the room, for some reason. Lily was yelling at them before she fell asleep, but the others
offered to wait outside, just to avoid trouble. They met Harry, though. Evan cried, too, it's
alright."

"I'm assuming you all refused to leave," Peter muses.

Sirius snorts softly. "Remus saw to them. You know how he gets. They eventually just gave
up."

"For the best, really," Mary says, grinning.

Harry shifts slightly and lets out a little baby-sigh, which makes them all shut up and watch
him intently, as if he's just done something miraculous. James can't take his eyes off him.

It's Harry's first day in the world, and James doesn't know much about what the ones
following it will be like, but he knows one thing for sure. Harry's isn't in short supply of those
that love him, and he's never going to be.

December, 1980

"And just where do you think you're going?" Regulus mutters, gripping the edge of Harry's
kit and rolling him right back over, which earns him a big, baby grin from Harry, who looks
unnervingly like his father after he's just done something very mischievous. Regulus squints
down at him. "Have places to be, do you? Not without these socks, you don't. Hold still."
Harry gurgles at him and does not hold still.

It's a fight getting the socks on his feet, but Regulus does eventually come out of the whole
ordeal triumphant. Frankly, Harry is a little shit. The moment he discovered how to roll over,
the peace for everyone shattered. Regulus dreads when he starts to crawl and doesnt even
want to think about him walking. It's going to be a bloody nightmare.

Of course, approximately five seconds after Regulus gets the socks on his feet, Harry tugs
them right back off. He grins, then tries to stuff one in his mouth. Regulus takes it away from
him with a heavy sigh.

Mary pokes her head in the room. "Having trouble?"

"With Harry? Of course." Regulus sits Harry up. "Look, Harry, there's Mummy. Don't you
want to wear socks for Mummy?"

"Good luck," Mary says as she moves inside, chuckling as she stops beside Regulus to help
hold Harry's legs still. "He's protesting socks now, determined never to wear them. That
determination—I blame his mother, you know."

"Lily's fault," Regulus agrees with a nod.

"The rebellion, that's all James," Mary muses with a fond laugh, stuffing one sock on him.

Regulus hums. "Oh, yeah, that has James written all over it."

"They blame us," Mary informs him.

"Of course they do." Regulus rolls his eyes, then catches Harry's hands when he tries to reach
for his feet. "Oh, no you don't. Not again."

"Don't give your father a hard time, Harry," Mary chides, and Harry laughs right in her face
when Regulus swings him up into his arms. "Oh, think that's funny, do you?"

"He thinks that's hilarious," Regulus replies dryly, and Harry just keeps on doing that baby-
giggling that draws smiles out of them every time. He kicks his feet so hard that one of his
socks flies off, and Regulus stares at it.

Mary stifles a laugh, then coughs. "Alright, that was all Sirius."

"You read my mind," Regulus admits, reaching down to accept defeat and just tug Harry's
other sock off, tossing it carelessly across the room. He'll find it in a month. Maybe.

"Where's his socks?" James asks as soon as they enter the room that's teeming with activity
already. It's all the usual suspects, but Frank and Alice are over as well, Neville cooing down
on a baby blanket on the floor.

"Don't you start with me, Potter," Regulus retorts, then dumps Harry into his arms before
promptly walking away as Mary roars with laughter. James is delighted to have Harry for the
five seconds that he gets to before Harry catches sight of Remus and immediately begins
reaching for him instead, doing that grabby-hands thing he does for Remus and Remus alone.
Sirius melts every sodding time.

Barty grins at him as he dumps himself in the open chair between him and Dorcas with a
sigh. "Ah, the wonders of fatherhood. That child has eight billion people to care for him, and
you still look exhausted, Reggie."

"The socks," Regulus says, strained. "Why won't he wear the socks, Barty?"
"He's finding his feet," Pandora tells him, hand resting on the swollen curve of her stomach.
She looks ready to burst, and Regulus is due to meet his goddaughter in two months. He's had
months to get used to the concept, and he still hasn't managed to yet. "It's an important motor
skill milestone, Regulus. It's a part of this growth, and I imagine it's a lot harder when he can't
see his feet. So, no socks."

"That's—" Regulus blinks. "That actually makes sense."

Pandora hums sagely. "I know."

"He's a problem-solver," Evan says decisively, nodding in approval. "That's a Slytherin trait,
you know."

"I fear the Gryffindor influence is too vast," Regulus mutters, squinting around the room.
Pandora is the only Ravenclaw, while Regulus, Dorcas, Evan, and Barty are the only
Slytherins. Everyone else—James, Lily, Mary, Sirius, Remus, Marlene, Peter, even Alice and
Frank—they're all Gryffindors. Regulus looks at his life and sometimes wonders how he got
here.

Secretly, he wonders how he was fortunate enough to.

"We'll corrupt him," Barty whispers. "We're Slytherins; we can do it. They'll never see it
coming until it's too late."

"Like the strike of a snake," Dorcas says in approval.

Evan snorts. "Well, except for Zar."

"Still missing meals?" Regulus asks, amused. He hasn't been by to see Zar in a few weeks.
He misses him.
"Every time," Barty confirms with a sigh.

"Some things never change," Pandora says fondly.

Regulus glances over at where James is trying to coax Harry back into his arms from Remus
while Sirius laughs, and he feels his lips curl up as he says, "But some do."

April, 1981

"Fuck," James chokes out as his back collides with the wall, his head falling back as his
mouth falls open, Regulus' mouth busy against his throat. "Oh, oh, okay. This is—yes.
Merlin, yes. Hi, I missed you, too. Bloody hell."

"I have been—" Regulus stops, apparently too desperate to kiss him deep and hard to finish,
and maybe James doesn't even need to know what he was going to say. In fact, James doesn't
mind not knowing, not at all, not when Regulus is kissing him like this. Oh, fucking shit,
that's good. It ends quickly, though, Regulus yanking back to suck in a sharp breath, and he
starts snatching James' shirt up, talking all the while. "I have been waiting for you to get
home all day. Lily came by to get Harry, and Monty said I had no reason to come in, so I've
spent all day—all day, James—thinking of this."

"Have you?" James asks with a grin, reaching up to fix his lopsided glasses when Regulus
tosses his shirt aside.

"Gods, you have no idea," Regulus groans, sliding his hands down James' chest, then
hooking his fingers through his belt loops to start tugging him towards the bed.

"Enlighten me," James breathes out as he follows, because of course he does, as always.
Nothing new there.

July, 1981

"Ma, ma, ma," Harry chants, banging down on his tray as Sirius smears cake on the end of
his nose with a chortle.

Everyone is Ma ma ma at the moment, with the exception of Remus and Marlene, who are
'Moo!' and 'Mar!' respectively. He likes the "m" sound, clearly, so literally everyone looks up
at ma now, at least until he gets a better grasp on different sounds. Mary and Lily are smug,
like it was a competition with James and Regulus, but no one is more smug than Remus and
Marlene, who get their own words.

"Yes, that's right, more sugar for you," Sirius coos with a grin, offering Harry more cake.
"You're not my problem tonight, so you can have all the sugar."

"That's going to be fun later," Regulus mutters to Remus, who pats his shoulder in sympathy.
They've decided to have Harry's first birthday at Mary and Lily's without much fuss, so
James and Regulus will be taking him for the night.

"Let the poor lad have some juice," Peter chides as he leans down the table to hold up Harry's
cup in front of him, humming when Harry immediately snatches it and starts drinking from it.
"All that cake, mate. You have to let him wash it down, yeah?"

Sirius and Peter proceed to fall into mild bickering over how to handle Harry, which never
fails to amuse everyone else. Between them, Marlene, and Dorcas, it's a constant, lighthearted
battle. Sirius and Marlene—the godparents—are a team, while Peter and Dorcas form a team
of their own. Honestly, you'd think they were his parents, the way they fuss over how to
properly parent him. Meanwhile, Lily, Mary, Regulus, and James have no such issues.
Literally never.
Rather predictably, Sirius calls in reinforcements. "Marlene! Get in here and tell Peter our
godson can have cake!"

"Mar, Mar, Mar!" Harry chants, waving his cup around.

Marlene appears in the doorway, squinting suspiciously. "Of course he can have cake. Why
aren't you letting him have cake, Peter? He can have as much cake as he likes."

"That's not what I said!" Peter protests. "Dorcas!"

"What is it?" Dorcas asks when she also appears next to Marlene, already eyeing Sirius
suspiciously, because she can sense when Peter is calling in reinforcements as well.

"Tell them Harry needs his juice to wash down his cake."

"Well, obviously he needs his juice. Sirius, why won't you let him have his juice? He can't eat
cake dry."

"I wasn't keeping his juice from him!" Sirius sputters, and the bickering continues while
Harry swipes at the frosting on his nose and happily sticks his fingers in his mouth.

"We need more children," Regulus states.

Remus chokes, head whipping towards him. "What?"

"We need more children," Regulus repeats. "All we have now is Harry and Luna, and
sometimes Neville. There's not enough children to go around, if you think about it. When are
you—"
"Oh, absolutely not," Remus cuts in. "Sirius and I aren't next. This one is on you and James,
or Mary and Lily, or Peter and Aiko, or—literally anyone else."

Regulus frowns at him. "Why not you and Sirius?"

"It's not—I'm not exactly the safest—" Remus cuts himself off and looks away, swallowing
harshly.

"Remus," Regulus says, almost gentle, "if you think it's not possible for you, then you're
wrong. It is possible."

"And when Daddy is away once a month?" Remus asks bitterly, cutting him a look of
reproach.

"Then I'll watch my nephew," Regulus replies simply. "Or Lily will watch her godchild. Or
any of us who are available will watch them. If there's one thing I've learned with Harry, it
can take a village, and that village is important. Don't take that village for granted, Remus.
You're a part of it, and that means it extends to you, too."

Remus hesitates, then mumbles, "I don't even know if Sirius would actually want—"

"Really?" Regulus interrupts flatly, then looks pointedly to where Sirius is pressing a kiss to
the top of Harry's head, grinning like a lunatic. Regulus looks over and arches an eyebrow at
Remus. "You don't know?"

"I just—well, maybe," Remus says softly, biting his lip as he watches Sirius. His eyes are so
unbearably soft. "Maybe one day, but—but not so soon, I think."

Regulus hums, satisfied. "Sure. There's no rush. We all go at our own pace, don't we? Just
don't run from it."
"Ironic, coming from you."

"I'm well aware."

October, 1981

James feels like his heart is about to burst. Harry is so fucking cute in his little bee costume,
with the antenna headband that bounces, and his wings that James is sure will end up being
yanked off at some point through the night.

"Look," James whispers, holding Harry on his knee with one hand while the other unfurls in
front of him. The snitch Regulus gave him years ago flutters up from his palm, and Harry
gasps like he's enamored by it. "I know. It's lovely, isn't it? Your father gave it to me when we
were still in Hogwarts."

Harry swivels his head towards Regulus, who is filling bowls full of candy with Sirius and
Mary, the three of them chatting, loose and relaxed. By now, Harry has started to pick up on
who's who, and he's differentiated between mummy and daddy well enough to let them know
who he wants.

After a beat, Harry goes back to looking at the hovering snitch, then he reaches out with both
hands to catch it, and James huffs out a ridiculously proud laugh. A little seeker in the
making, then. Oh, Regulus will love that.

Harry clearly loves the snitch, because he breaks out into peals of laughter, clapping.
Everyone else in the room joins in on the clapping and cheering before they even know why,
because they all cheer Harry on in literally everything he does. This child is so, so loved. It's
enough to make James want to cry sometimes, just seeing how happy his son is.

When Harry lets the snitch go, it gently flutters away, out of reach. James deposits him on his
feet, holding him steady. He can't walk yet, but he's well on his way. He can drag himself up
and stand, as well as bounce in place while he's holding onto things, so really, he's almost a
grown man at this point. He takes countless tumbles, but always gets back up, or just stays
down and shoots off like a rocket while crawling. He's always off trying to get into trouble,
which makes James so fucking proud, if he's honest.

"Here, I've got it," James assures Harry, reaching out to pluck the snitch from the air and give
it to him.

Harry grabs it and starts bouncing, swiveling his head to beam right at James, and James
beams right back. There's a bright burst of laughter from across the room, Sirius cackling
about something Mary has said, and Harry turns to look over at the sound. Regulus puts
down a bowl and disappears into the kitchen, and without any warning whatsoever, Harry
clutches onto the snitch and proceeds to toddle off after him.

James releases a high pitched noise and starts frantically waving his arms, tears springing to
his eyes, and people around the room fall silent one-by-one as Harry takes his very first steps
in the endeavor to follow Regulus where he goes.

Regulus is only gone for a moment, and then he steps right back out of the kitchen, another
bowl in hand, which he promptly drops as he crouches down and opens his arms in just
enough time for Harry to fall into them, losing his balance and knowing Regulus is there to
catch him.

"Did he just—" Regulus halts, exhaling in surprise as he stands up with Harry in his arms.
Harry, utterly oblivious to all the attention on him at the moment, juts out his hand to proudly
present the snitch to Regulus, whose face softens so much that James proceeds to fucking
cry.

"Oh, I know, me too," Lily chokes out, raising her hands to cover the bottom half of her face,
her eyes shining. "Christ, that was so adorable."

"He bloody walked!" Peter bursts out, hopping up from the chair in pure excitement. "Did we
all see that?! Everyone saw that, right? He was practically running!"
"Harry, go show Mummy your snitch," Regulus murmurs, stooping back down to sit Harry
on his feet again.

"Come here, sweetheart," Lily calls, holding her hands, and after a moment, Harry holds the
snitch up and takes off towards her while everyone proceeds to freak the fuck out.

James is still crying rather ridiculously, so helplessly emotional and moved by the whole
thing that he can't stop. Everyone else in the room proceeds to try and get Harry to go
between them all, which he does for a few minutes before he gives up and just starts crawling
to everyone, which is just as well.

"That was so lovely," James rasps as Regulus comes to sit down next to him, reaching out to
rub his back.

Regulus' lips curl up. "You're so soft-hearted."

"He was chasing you," James says, sniffling.

"He takes after his dad," Regulus murmurs, reaching out to cup James' cheek, swiping his
tears away, drawing him into a slow, sweet kiss that James melts into as if it's the very first.

The night carries on, everyone bustling around and chatting happily, enjoying candy and the
exchange of scary stories that makes them all laugh more than scares them. It's a lovely way
to spend Halloween night.

James is cuddled up next to Regulus, carding his fingers through his hair as they all watch
Harry play with the snitch, utterly fascinated by it, when there's a knock on the door. No one
looks willing to move to answer it, so James sighs and drags himself up, sitting his wand
down on the table as he goes. In the background, there's the sound of music, chatter, and
laughter—the sound of love.
 When James opens the door, no one's there. He blinks, poking his head out and peering
around, but the street is quiet, and the stars are shining. He waits for something, anything, but
there's nothing. No sign of anyone being there at all.

Perhaps it was the echo of a knock from another life, but in this one, James shrugs, shuts the
door, and goes back to the love that's waiting on him inside.

Chapter End Notes

and that's a wrap, everyone.

for the last time on this one, let me get into it:

starting from the top, the slytherins + pandora losing zar briefly will never not be funny
to me. writing them frantically looking for that snake was hilarious. also, melanie, my
beloved <3

james and sirius buying remus a bookshop. they WOULD. but also, sirius being mature
about the whole thing. i love him so much.

then remus electing to tell regulus all the secrets at once in the most mischievous way
possible. i adore him. lmaooo, regulus was like: you know what? okay, sure. excuse me,
i need to get fucking DRUNK. that was so valid of him, honestly. he just found out his
dear was a deer, can you blame him?

and then the angsty section. that one was ROUGH. i don't think that any couple, even
james and regulus as ive depicted them, would never have problems and make mistakes.
it was one of those moments where life was really, really hard—and those are the things
that can make or break you, especially a couple. regulus was having a bad time, really
bad, and they had to figure out how to handle that. sirius was the star of that section, for
me personally. it was just one of those things where it's like: yes, this is hard and no one
knows how to make it through, but they make it through despite that, and it felt really
important for me to write it. my heart broke for james, though. oh, i wanted to hug them
all while i was writing it 😭

and look, i went back and forth on whether or not i would follow canon at a distance and
include harry, but then i found myself writing him, and i couldn't NOT. no, don't ask me
the intricacies of how he came to be. there are modern solutions these days, and who's to
say there's not some sort of magic that would help them? idk, but it didnt happen
TRADITIONALLY, ill just say that. yes, harry has a million parents, what of it? he
didn't have nearly enough in canon, so i fixed it. i regret absolutely nothing at all.

also that moment where harry caught the snitch, then took his first steps to regulus???
why did i SOB 😭
ending it on halloween, 1981 was planned from the very beginning. just a full circle sort
of thing. i KNOW that knock on the door and james putting down his wand to go answer
it scared so many of you. yeah, that was the point :)

no, im kidding (well, am i?). that part was to highlight my little happy ending, because i
love my little happy endings. i hope you all loved it, too.

so, that's that. thank you all so much for all the support, feedback, and love i have
received. you have no idea how much that means to me. everyone stay safe, and ill see
you on the next one, if you're there!

<3
End Notes

[please do not post my works on any other platform, or any other format. do not create
typesets for people to download and use to bookbind through profit means; do not put my
works anywhere near websites such as amazon, lulu, or etsy; do not put my works on
goodreads or wattpad. any and all pre-existing translations/podfics are only acceptable on ao3
with proper credits, and im asking now that there aren't more made in the future]

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