Mastermind

1000 Oceans

Trigger Warnings: Racism - not only the usual muggle things, but Bellatrix makes a racist remarks about James.

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1000 Oceans wide
1000 Endless years have died
1000 Oceans wide
1000 Stars are passing by
Passing by
Please don't drift away from me
Please don't drift away from me
- 1000 Oceans by Tokio Hotel

Regulus slips back into his dorm room. He still presses the letters to his chest. He throws a glance at Barty's bed. He and Evan are sleeping peacefully, tangled up in each other.

He sinks down in front of his mirror. He takes a deep breath that won't quite reach his lungs now that he is away from James yet again.

He enters the corridor in his mind. He runs down to the staircase to the hidden door. He is safe, he can get it all back now. He needs it all back. He needs to feel like that again.

He isn't sure what might kill him first: The crushing waves pushing him down or the biting cold slowly getting a hold of him. He needs to push it all off, he needs the sun back in his life.

He gets into the room and to the box and throws it open. All the feelings, the longing, the sound of James' laugh rush back to him. It's warm and golden and crushing him. He shoves the rest away. He shoves away the summer, the dinners, the people, the conversations. He shoves away books about Dark Arts, hours of private study with Voldemort. Bellatrix's laughter when she dances around Voldemort and boasts how she has killed four mudblood children at an ice cream parlour, how she has seen Sirius and a little brown friend of his, how they've thought they could do anything against her – her.

With the full force of his worship of James, that memory specifically invokes murderous rage in him. If she harmed James... he doesn't finish the thought. He pushes Bellatrix away, locks her in one of the rooms, easy to access but not imposing on him.

When it is done, he takes deep breaths, feeling his lungs work. He goes to his trunk and takes James' necklace out of a hidden compartment. He presses his lips against the cold metal and puts it around his neck.

He takes up James' letters again and climbs into bed, using his wand as a light source while he reads. He doubts he will be able to sleep just yet, he needs to read them.

With every letter, every "I miss you, too" and "I wish you could be here" Regulus feels himself breaking down piece by piece. He is a crying, smiling mess by the end of it. He is mildly embarrassed with himself for it, but he cannot help himself, not when James writes:

I wish I could bind you to me fully and completely, so we never have to be without each other again. I didn't know what missing someone truly meant until I had to miss you for the first time.

And when he writes:

No life should ever resemble a purgatory – mild or otherwise. That house is not a home. I want to give you a home. I want to be your home. I will keep you safe and sound, warm and protected.

And when he writes:

When I see you again, I will not fuck you on or in anything. I will make you smile first. I will make you laugh, then. Afterwards, I will make love to you. I might carve a piano myself to pass the time until then. It will be the highest honour to see you play for me.

Regulus traces the parts where James has scratched out and rewritten words and phrases, replaced be like with resemble and tie you somewhere with bind you to me and you shouldn't have to with no life should, rethinking and overthinking his messages for him. The different inks and pens and dates in the corners show they were written over weeks. An answer each perfectly fitted for one of his letters. For each letter from Regulus, James has written one of these, even though he knew every time that he wouldn't be able to send them.