"It just doesn't make any sense!"
There's a collective groan from the room.
"It makes perfect sense," James says indignantly, cheeks flushed from the firewhiskey.
"Lily, it's a lost cause," Remus sends her sympathetic look. "Believe me, I've tried. It's like a cult."
"All sports are cults, but at least muggle ones don't have a ball worth a hundred-and-fifty points that automatically ends the game," she tilts the drink she's holding back into her mouth, fiery red hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head.
"Or have a ball that's trying to kill you," Remus adds.
She gestures to him emphatically with her bottle. "Exactly!"
It's the night before Christmas Holidays and nearly all of the Gryffindor upper years are sitting around the common room drinking.
"Remus," James says solemnly. "I hope you know that you're breaking my heart."
The other boy rolls his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure you'll get over it."
"Come on James," Lily pushes, "you must see how mad it is—you nearly got beheaded in your last game."
"That," Frank cuts in emphatically, "was Bones's fault, not quidditch's. It was a bad play."
"Here, here," Mary lifts her drink in the air and Marlene giggles.
"I mean, it was kind of quidditch's fault."
"Due to the aforementioned murder balls," Remus backs Lily up.
"Exactly," she says again, laughing a bit. "How do they not see it?"
"Cult, this is what I'm saying."
"Oh just get a room you two," James says exasperated. "A no fun boring room."
"A safe reasonable room," Lily corrects.
Sirius makes a gagging noise. "Ugh, reasonable, talk about a boner killer."
"I don't think anyone was talking about boners darling," Alice sing-songs from her spot next to Frank.
"Weren't they?" Sirius asks. "Shame that."
That gets a laugh from everyone but Remus, who looks very determinedly at the fireplace. It's been weeks but James still catches them avoiding eye contact, or not standing too close. He hates it, but seeing as his last conversation with Sirius ended in more fighting he's not exactly sure what to do about it.
"Speaking of quidditch cults," Alice says, sending Frank a mischievous smile that has him blushing. They're sitting on the sofa with Mary, Lily and Marlene leaning against their legs, the marauders sprawled out on the floor in front of them.
"This one's just got his first pro offer," she punches his arm affectionately.
"Hey, no way!" James sits up, surprised to only be hearing about this now. "That's brilliant!"
"Who's trying to snap you up Franky-boy?" Sirius asks.
"Puddlemere, believe it or not," Frank gives them a shy smile, rubbing the back of his neck. Off the pitch Frank is actually rather reserved, it always throws James for a loop. Especially since Alice is about the most extraverted person he knows, besides Sirius, of course.
"No shit," Sirius says grinning. "That's mad."
"You're going get us season tickets right?" James leans over to smack Frank's legs.
The older boy rolls his eyes. "As if you need me to Potter. Doesn't your family have a private box at the stadium outside of London?"
Sirius snorts. "Yeah they do, and let me tell you, the only thing better than watching quidditch, is watching quidditch while drinking champagne and eating caviar."
James glares at him. "We don't eat caviar at quidditch matches."
"I'm sorry, do you eat caviar at other times?" Lily asks, a little bemused.
"Come now Evans," Sirius pulls back his shoulders and tilts up his nose, speaking in his haughtiest voice. "What do you expect us to eat? Fish sticks? Crisps? Our aristocratic constitutions simply would not stand for it. No, give me caviar or give me death!"
Lily snorts as James attempts to kick Sirius across the floor.
"Give me caviar or give me death," Marlene laughs. "I need that on a t-shirt." Which makes Sirius look far too pleased with himself.
"Do you think you'll accept it then, the offer?" James turns back to Frank, hoping to change the subject. He's never felt particularly comfortable with his family's wealth.
The older boy grimaces. "Actually, I've been thinking lately that I might not play pro at all."
There's a beat of silence.
"What?" James manages eventually.
"Is it the murder balls?" Remus asks in a fake whisper.
Franks smiles but it's a little half hearted. "No, it's—with everything that's going on, I just think that I might be better off in the Auror department, making a difference. If they'll have me, that is."
"Oh they'll have you," Alice squeezes his arm. "You and me both."
"You want to be an Auror?" Peter asks, sounding a little shocked.
If she's offended by the looks of surprise she doesn't show it, flashing Peter a toothy grin. "Well, someone's gotta protect you lot from the baddies, don't they?"
An awkward silence drifts over the group, suddenly confronted with the world outside of Hogwarts. It's not that they don't know what's going on, because they do, as much as they can, anyway. James sees the tense way his parents hold their smiles these days, the way they whisper behind their hands and close their doors. But it always feels distant somehow, something that is happening somewhere else to people he doesn't know. Frank and Alice though—Frank and Alice are right here.
Snape's voice manages to weasel its way unwelcome into James's thoughts;
This is all irrelevant Potter, all so insignificant compared to what's coming. And it's not going to be long now, I can wait. I can be so patient.
"I have an idea," Mary says suddenly, causing them all to start. She sits forward on the sofa, absentmindedly running her fingers through Marlene's hair.
"Why does that sound like a threat when you say it?" Lily asks, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.
"Couldn't tell you dear, now, what do you lot say to a round of spin the bottle?"
Both Marlene and Lily groan.
"Oooh, yes," Alice claps her hands, "I am very into that!"
"I like the way your brain works Macdonald," Sirius seconds, earning him a wink from Mary that has James wondering, not for the first time, how it is that they didn't make it work. The two of them are so bloody similar.
"Oh because that doesn't sound awkward at all," Remus says flatly.
James lifts his glass to him. "I agree with Moony."
"Why don't you just go join him and Evans in their reasonable-boner-killing-no-fun-room then," it's Sirius's turn to kick James, nearly spilling his drink.
"Oi, watch it you heathen!"
Mary reaches over and ruffles Peter's hair. "What about you Pete? What do you say?" she gives him a smile that James thinks is thoroughly unfair.
Peter's cheeks go red. "Oh—uh—yeah, yeah sure. Why not, could be—uh—fun."
James rolls his eyes. "Merlin Peter."
Mary sits back looking quite pleased with herself. "Excellent," she claps her hands together. "That's the majority then, so we're playing."
"First of all, no it isn't," Remus says. "And second of all, I don't remember agreeing to be part of a democracy."
Mary turns her big brown eyes on him, batting her lashes in a way that makes even James's stomach swoop, but Remus only gives her a flat look.
"Yeah, not gonna work on me Macdonald."
Marlene snorts.
"Remus, I love you, I ever tell you that?" James says, smiling.
"Almost constantly James, it's getting a bit much if I'm being honest."
"Just waiting for the day you say it back babe."
Sirius reaches his arm impatiently towards the sofa. "Macdonald, bottle?" sounding suddenly irritated for some reason. James sends him a questioning look but Sirius very determinedly ignores him.
Mary reaches over to the coffee table beside her, grabbing one of her empties and passing it down to Sirius who places it firmly in the middle of the carpet.
"Your game Macdonald, you start."
"Don't mind if I do," she leans over Marlene, giving the bottle a practiced twist.
James feels warm as he looks out at his friends, all gathered in the holly covered common room, muggle Christmas lights, that Mary insisted on hanging-up, draped over the fireplace, casting everything in a rainbow glow.
"Oh boy," Sirius gives Peter a slap on the back as the bottle slows right in front of him. Peter's eyes grow to about twice their normal size, staring at the bottle like he's never seen one before.
"I think he's going to combust," Lily murmurs beside James, who can't help but snort.
"Yeah, in his pants."
"Merlin, James," she reaches over and punches his arm even though they're both laughing.
"Alright Petey," Mary is clearly enjoying the effect that she's having on Peter. "C'mere,"
"Oh no," Marlene crawls out from between Mary's legs and moves towards Lily. "You are not kissing overtop of me."
Mary rolls her eyes. "Prude."
"Peter?" Remus leans forward, waving his hand in front of Peter's face, which appears to be frozen, along with the rest of him. "I think we might have broken him."
Mary sighs, blowing a strand of curly brown hair out of her face. "Oh honestly," she pushes off of the sofa, taking Peter's face very purposefully between her hands and bringing them together with an almost comical "smack."
"Godric's sake Mary don't hurt the boy," Alice laughs, burying her face in Franks's shoulder.
After several seconds the two Gryffindors part, Peter's eyes somehow even wider.
"Adequate," Mary judges, before smiling and kissing the top of his head.
"Thanks," he says, slightly dazed, and James doesn't have the heart to tell him that "adequate" is not exactly a compliment.
"Aw, look out our wittle Pwete, he's a man now," Sirius pinches his cheeks, and it's a testament to how blissed out Peter is that he doesn't even try to swat him away.
"Okay Mckinnon," Mary slides back into her spot on the sofa, "your turn."
"I can't help but feel I'll be a disappointment after that," Marlene says dryly, reaching for the bottle. It skids in a pathetic circle on the carpet, stopping rather inexactly between James and the empty armchair.
"Is it a wash?" Lily asks, looking around.
"Nuh-uh," Mary grins. "That's you Potter."
In all honesty, if it had to be anyone, he's rather pleased it's Marlene. James places his drink down and raises an eyebrow at her, as if to say; "shall we?"
With a laugh she crawls across the circle to meet James halfway, her eyes bright and blue in the dim light of the room.
It's a quick kiss, mouthes closed, lips both sticky from the alcohol. But it's nice. Her hand holds his shoulder, his cups her face. It feels familiar. When they break apart she smiles at him.
"Adequate."
James can't stop himself from laughing, "Please McKinnon, I rocked your world."
She sticks out her tongue at him.
He doesn't miss the very pointed looks that Sirius sends him, the "see, what did I tell you?" looks. He does ignore them though.
"Remus, your up," Marlene passes the bottle to him as she leans back against the sofa, Mary's hand in her hair again.
"I don't remember agreeing to this," he takes the bottle with great trepidation.
"Lupin," Mary sends him a pointed stare, "don't make me fight you, because I will."
Remus makes an exaggerated show of placing the bottle back in the middle of the floor. "I want it known that I'm only doing this because I one-hundred-percent believe you."
Mary smiles. "Noted."
With the air of the long suffering, Remus spins the bottle.
It hadn't quite occurred to James just how awkward this game could get. He had been against it, of course, very aware of the red-head sitting next to him and the history he didn't want to bring up with a kiss. Or of Sirius's maybe-not-so-fake crush on Alice who was currently sitting with her boyfriend, who was also their captain, and who might not appreciate the two of them snogging in front of him. But he hadn't considered what would happen if, say, Remus, spun the bottle and it landed on—
"Sirius," Mary lets out a half-laugh half-gasp as the bottle comes to a stop.
The ensuing silence is deafening.
Remus looks as though he wants the ground to swallow him whole, face suddenly pale as he stares very determinedly at his hands, Sirius gone rigid on the other side of Peter.
"Re-spin?" Frank suggests, which elicits outraged noises from both Alice and Mary.
"That is not how the game works Frankfurt," Mary says resolutely.
"Yeah, that's not my na—"
"You can't just re-spin because you didn't get the person you wanted."
"Honestly, no need to be weird about it," Alice adds, "James would kiss Remus in a heartbeat, wouldn't you Jamie?"
James does his best not to choke, wishing very much to be left out of it. "Uh—yeah," he manages eventually, not looking at anyone. "Sure, 'course I would." He hopes they can't hear the strain in his voice.
"I mean, it is a bit..." Pete starts, causing James's heart to clench.
"Bit what?" Marlene's voice is sharp as she turns to him.
"I just meant...you know..."
"We don't actually," Lily chimes in, causing James to look over at her, surprised and oddly relieved all at once. "What do you mean Peter?"
Peter's eyes widen as he realizes the hole he's dug himself into. "No—no—I just, I'm just saying that it would be weird to...you know...kiss a mate. That's all."
"You kissed me," Mary says calmly. "Didn't seem like you found it that weird."
"No—I mean—yes, but that—that's different."
"Different how?" Alice asks, leaning across Frank's lap as she does so.
Peter is sweating now, eyes darting to James for help but finding none.
"No—never mind—forget I said anything."
"Well okay then," Mary looks back to Sirius and Remus who have not moved or spoken since the bottle stopped spinning. "Lets go boys."
There are a few more moments of stillness before Remus reaches jerkily for the bottle, hand shaking as he passes it off to Lily, who takes it with a startled expression on her face.
"I'm not playing," Remus says, still not looking at anyone.
Mary opens her mouth to object but James quickly cuts her off. "Okay Evans," he says loudly, overly so, in the new silence that's fallen around the group, "lets see what you've got."
Lily, thankfully, seems to catch on quick. Smiling and spinning the bottle without question, effectively silencing Mary when it lands on Frank, earning a "woop-woop" from Alice and generally dissolving the tension.
James can't quite get rid of the aching in his chest though, even while watching the spectacle that is Evans and Longbottom's kiss. He had thought—he had at least thought that Remus...but if this is how they react just to the idea of kissing...James tries to cover up his grimace by taking a swig of his drink.
He meets Marlene's gaze only once, and finds exactly what he's expecting.
Pity.
The game never quite recovers its momentum and after a few more spins the group breaks up, all yawns and sleepy goodnights and promises to say goodbye tomorrow before the train.
When James heads upstairs Remus and Sirius are the only ones left in the common room. He debates whether or not he should stay, but decides against it. Maybe it'll help—the two of them being alone together—talking.
Exhausted, he drags himself to their room, saying goodnight to Peter before drawing the curtains around his bed and waiting, all the while trying not to think about the sick look that had crossed Sirius's face. Or Remus's for that matter. About how it would feel to have them look at him that way.
Some weak part of him tries to find comfort in the fact that they don't have to know. But it doesn't work. Because in the end he'll still know, and besides, he doesn't want it to be like this forever. To love always in the dark.
After a while he starts to hear Peter snore and pulls out the map. Regulus's name hovers in the astronomy tower, the sight making James smile even while his chest aches. His eyes travel next to his two friends, still in the common room. He sighs, setting the map down and managing to stay still for a whole ten minutes longer before he can't stand it anymore.
He grabs the invisibility cloak, slipping the map into the waistband of his pants and carefully opening the door so as to not wake Peter.
He's about halfway down the stairs when he hears Remus and Sirius, not the words exactly, but the humming of their whispered voices. He slows his pace, making sure to be quiet. He's not exactly certain how he's planning to get through the portrait without them noticing, but he's hoping an opportunity will present itself.
"I miss you."
James falters on the last step, the break in Sirius's voice making him freeze. They're still sitting in the same spots they were when he left, a good deal of distance between them. James can see Sirius's face but Remus has his back to him.
"God, don't," Remus leans forward, dropping his head into his hands.
"It's just the truth Remus," when the silence stretches on he sighs, eyes like bleeding wounds, and James is struck by the pain that seems to sit in the room. He'd known they were fighting but he hadn't thought—
"I don't know how to handle this."
Remus laughs wetly. "Me, you mean?"
Sirius makes a pained noise. "No—no I mean—Merlin, I don't—I can't—" his hand runs angrily through his hair. "I can't Remus," his words are shaky.
"Right. Fine. You've said. I understand."
"I doubt that."
James swears that Remus actually growls. "Don't say that unless you're going to explain yourself."
"Sorry, okay, sorry," Sirius grimaces but doesn't offer any further explanation, his words followed by more silence.
James wonders how much talking they've actually done since he went upstairs. It doesn't feel like much.
"I'm tired," Remus exhales finally. "I'm going to bed."
James quickly moves off the stairs and out of the way as he watches Remus get to his feet.
"Wait—Moons, please just—" Sirius's voice is wrecked and Remus must hear it too because he turns back, watching Sirius fight with himself.
"You—you have to understand," Sirius breathes with difficulty. "You, James, Peter, you're the only things that matter to me, in the whole world."
Remus nods stiffly. "I get it Pads, we're just friends. I do understand."
"No, that's," Sirius gets to his feet too now, closing the distance between them but not touching. "You are important to me," he says desperately, looking right into Remus's eyes. "You are so important and I'm scared I'm going to lose you—scared I'm already losing you and I can't handle that Remus, I can't. It'll break me. I just don't know what to do here—what to do with—with whatever it is that's happened—"
"You kissed me, that's what happened."
James steps back, running right into the wall behind him and biting down on his lip so hard he draws blood just to keep himself quiet.
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
Holy.
Shit.
Sirius looks like he's just been slapped, eyes going to the stairwell. At first James is worried he's made some sort of noise but then Remus scoffs.
"No one can hear me Sirius, they're all asleep, Merlin."
Sirius keeps staring though, as though expecting someone to come after him. His mum, James realizes, recognizing that look, the fear that only Walburga can bring out in him.
"Remus, please," Sirius is whispering now, and James isn't sure what it is he's begging for.
Remus sounds defeated. "You told me not to say anything and I won't."
"But I didn't want—" Sirius swallows with some difficulty. "You won't even look at me."
James is well aware that he shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be hearing any of this. But he can't very well walk out of the portrait hole now and he's pretty sure that if Sirius hears the door upstairs he'll freak. Also, if he's being honest with himself, he wants to hear this.
"Sirius," Remus says finally, the name soft in his mouth. "I just—it's hard, that's all."
"I know."
Remus reaches out but drops his hand before it gets to him, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I just don't know what you want from me. You were so scared and then it was like, every time I came near you, I could feel that fear and I—I hate the idea that I make you feel like that. So I just thought...it'd be easier for you—for both of us—to...stay away. For a bit."
Sirius shakes his head, eyes big, looking so young it startles James. "I need you Moony," he begs. "I always need you. I know this is—my fault—that I messed it all up—"
Remus cuts him off. "That's not what this is about."
And James wonders if Sirius understands what that means because he surely doesn't. There's a moment of tense stillness before Sirius finally manages to speak.
"Then what's it about Moony?"
Remus shakes his head turning away from Sirius and therefor towards James, which is strange. Strange to have him staring nearly straight at him with that heartbroken look on his face.
"Why did you kiss me Sirius?"
The other boy looks lost. "I don't know."
Lie, James thinks, but he can't tell if Remus spots it as easily.
Remus nods, resigned. "That's what this is about."
Several minutes pass in which Sirius opens and closes his mouth but no sound makes it out. Eventually, Remus looks back at him, putting him out of his misery.
"When you figure it out let me know, yeah? Until then...you haven't lost me, I just can't—I can't be there all the time. It's too hard."
Sirius's voice is something broken. "I never wanted to make life harder for you."
Remus bites down on his lower lip, trying and failing to keep back the wounded noise that rips out of him. Sirius steps forward but Remus waves him off.
"I'm going to bed," he says, choked, not waiting for a reply before he blows past James and up the stairs.
James watches Sirius sit alone on the sofa, head in his hands, for a long time.
"I was beginning to give up on you," Regulus says when James bursts through the door to the astronomy tower. He's over by the railing, looking out at the view. The grounds are beautiful right now, blanketed in a snow that sparkles under the moonlight. Regulus's warming charm is barely able to keep the cold out.
"Sorry," James says breathlessly, "thanks for waiting I—" he steps closer, holding his hands out, desperate to touch him. "Can I?"
Regulus looks at him curiously. James knows how he sounds—heartbroken. It's how he feels.
"Yes."
He pulls him in immediately, pressing Regulus's body against his own. Regulus lets him—lets him open his mouth, lets him inside; warm and desperate.
Eventually they part, breathing heavy, Regulus's hands coming up to circle his wrists. "What is it?" he asks, searching James's face. "What's happened?"
James shakes his head, brushing their foreheads against one another. "I'm sorry for how I was, the first time you kissed me."
Regulus's eyes widen. "What?" and then; "James, I was drunk and I pounced on you," James snorts but Regulus ignores him. "I'm not sure I could have expected anything else—I certainly could have expected worse."
And James hates that. The image of Remus's face—Sirius's—invading his thoughts.
"I'm still sorry, I know that must have felt—" but he doesn't have the words to finish that thought, so instead he leans forward and kisses him again, slow and sweet.
They stay there, pressed together like that, in comfortable silence, until eventually Regulus's hand comes up and tugs on his collar. "Come," he says. "I have something to show you."
James arches his brow as Regulus pulls away, moving towards the door. "You have something to show me?" he repeats.
Regulus nods, mistaking James's stillness for worry. "I doubt anyone will be around at this hour, Filch is usually asleep in his office by now and the Prefects will be long done their rounds."
"Wow, very knowledgeable about sneaking about after dark aren't you?" James muses as he follows him into the stairwell, his eyes darting momentarily to the spot outside the door where he stashed the invisibility cloak. He'll just have to come back for it latter.
"Like I've said before, you and my brother are not the only ones who break the rules."
James snorts. "You'll have to excuse me if your ironed pants and perfectly coiffed hair don't scream rebel," he lowers his voice as they slip into the corridor, Regulus lighting his wand but keeping it low.
"I'm sorry, I must have misplaced my leather jacket and Doc Martens," Regulus quips back and it's work for James to hold his laughter in.
He has a vague idea of where they are in the castle—somewhere on the seventh floor—but after a few turns it's easy to get lost and he feels his hands itching to pull out the map.
"Reg, where are you taking me?"
"Shh," he hushes, "you'll see."
James can't help but smile, feeling some of the weight in his chest lighten.
They walk for another ten minutes or so before Regulus stops in front of an empty wall.
"Well, this is fascinating," James says dryly, earning him an elbow to the side.
"Just wait," Regulus steps forward and starts pacing back and forth in front of the wall, muttering to himself. Which, James has to admit, is mildly concerning. He's about to step in when suddenly the wall trembles, lines distorting as a door pulls itself out of the stone.
"Holy shit," James gasps.
Regulus, who has stopped his pacing, shoots him a grin over his shoulder. "Shall we?"
James's mouth is fully open, like some kind of cartoon character, looking from Regulus to the door and back again. "Reg, did you just magic a room into existence?"
His grin widens. "Might've," he pushes through the door, James stumbling after him.
The room inside is warm—actually, it reminds James a lot of the Gryffindor common room—there's an ornate fireplace, dark oak walls covered in tapestries, comfortable looking chairs and sofas everywhere. The one noticeable difference, would be the bed.
James walks into the centre looking around, the ceiling, he notices, has been painted. He's seen murals like this in older wizarding homes, but never at Hogwarts. There are people he doesn't recognize who don't move or appear to be wearing robes, and, in the centre, a man holding a pale body.
"What is this place?" James drops his gaze back down to Regulus who has put his wand away and is currently leaning against the wall looking smug.
"The house elves call it the Come and Go Room, it appears when someone needs it."
"That—" James struggles to get his thoughts in order. "That's bloody brilliant!" He turns about himself again, taking it all in.
"I figured it was getting a little cold for the tower, besides, as long as we're in here, no one else can find us unless we want them to."
Those words drift through James's head as he walks forward, running his hand along the soft upholstery on the sofa. No one can find them. "The map," he breathes, "it's not on the map." They hadn't known about it, so it's not plotted, which means that, as long as they're here, the marauders won't be able to see them.
"Map?" he hears Regulus ask behind him.
Oh.
Right.
James turns around to find Regulus looking at him curiously. He knows he could lie, it wouldn't be that hard. But he doesn't want to.
"I have something to show you too," he says finally, pulling out the parchment from his waistband. Regulus raises his brow, stepping forward. He hands it over to Reg, who, if anything, looks even more confused.
"James, this is just—"
"Wait," he pulls out his wand and taps the centre. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
He always feels a little jolt of pleasure when the map springs to life, their finely penned names coming into focus before the panels fold out, revealing the castle. Honestly, it might be the most impressive thing they've ever done.
For a moment Regulus says nothing, staring down at the map in awe. "Is this—is this showing the entire school?"
"Yes."
"And everyone in it?"
James grins. "Yes."
Regulus shakes his head. "Merlin that's—that's incredible."
James preens, feeling thoroughly pleased with himself.
"You made this?" he looks back up at James who shrugs.
"Moo—Remus did most of the heavy lifting, me and Sirius were mostly moral support."
Regulus squints at him before turning back to the map. "You're being modest," he says eventually. "Your magic is all over this."
That surprises James. "You can feel my magic?"
"I—" but Regulus stops himself, seeming to realize what he's just admitted to.
All magic has a signature, the touch of the individual core it comes from. But it's a hard thing to pick up on, usually only your family—people who you've spent years with—are ever really able to do it. James can recognize his mum usually, but that's about it. It's a hard thing to explain—like touch and taste and smell all rolled into one.
"What's it like?" James asks quietly, leaning into Regulus a little more.
"What's what like?" the other boy keeps his eyes very determinedly on the map in his hands.
"My magic. What does it...feel like...to you?"
Regulus is holding himself still, his face hidden by his dark curls. James can feel the tension in him, knows the younger boy is trying to decide whether to give in or push back. It's a process with Regulus. The walls don't come down all at once but brick by brick.
"Spring," he says finally. "It's—you feel like spring."
James is gentle when he takes hold of Regulus's face, tilting it over his shoulder so that he can kiss him. At first it's innocent, shallow, but then the map is gone and Regulus's hands are in his hair, sliding down his arms.
"Fuck," he exhales, foreheads pressed together. "I don't know how I'm going to survive two weeks without this."
He's been trying not to think about it—Christmas break—trying not to think about where Regulus will be.
"You'll be okay?" he asks, pulling back, hands coming to hold Regulus's face.
"James, I've spent the last fourteen years of my life in that house, another holiday isn't going to make much difference."
But James can see the tension in the way he holds his mouth, the way his eyes cloud over.
"I know you said not to write—"
"No."
James nods. "But if you need to, you can come to me, okay?" he tries to make those words as solid as he can, tries to give them to Regulus, something to hold on to. "Letter, floo, show up on my doorstep, I don't care."
Regulus scoffs, pulling out of his grip but not going too far. "I'm sure that would go over well with my brother."
"He'll get over it," James says dismissively, as though it isn't something he's spent the past few months agonizing over. Regulus doesn't need to know that though, he just needs to know that he has somewhere to go. "You understand? I don't care about secrets or what people think, if you need to, you come find me, okay? Or even if you just want to."
Regulus looks back at him, grey eyes searching, though for what James doesn't know. Regardless, he tries to lay himself open, tries to let himself be known. He told Regulus he could take what he wanted and he meant it.
I won't hurt you, he wants to say, I promise.
Finally, Regulus steps close again, bringing their mouthes together, the kiss is slow, his teeth pulling on James's lower lip before he starts nudging him backwards. It takes James a moment to realize where they're going.
"Regulus," he exhales against his lips.
"The bed is here for a reason Potter," the backs of James's legs collide with the mattress.
"Doesn't mean we have to do anything," James already feels breathless.
"You've made that abundantly clear," Regulus straddles James's hips, hand on his chest, pushing him down. He pauses then, hovering above him, sending shivers through James's whole body.
"I'm saying yes James," his fingers play with the collar of James's shirt and James feels his breath hitch. "But there are—I have—rules."
"Okay," James sounds overeager even to his own ears, but he can't help it. Regulus is on top of him. In bed. His brain can barely cope, "whatever you want."
"Don't—" he struggles to swallow, "don't touch me."
James's hands instantly drop away from where they'd been gripping Regulus's waist.
The younger boy rolls his eyes. "Not like that, I mean—"
It takes James far too long. "Oh," he says, and then; "Okay, of course."
"Yes?"
James nods. "Yes Regulus, yes."
And then they're kissing again.
Regulus is everywhere—his hands, his mouth, his voice. He slides James's t-shirt off with ease, trailing open mouthed kisses down his neck, his shoulders, his chest. James hears a high whining noise and realizes too late that it's coming from his own mouth.
"I like you like this," Regulus says against his skin, "under my hands." His voice is low and rough and it does things to James that he wasn't expecting.
"Whatever you want Reg," he repeats, his brain unable to explain itself more than that. Because he likes it too, maybe more than he should. He likes being touched, being held, being cared for. When Regulus's fingers skate across his skin he feels real. They feel real. The two of them, here together. They feel like something James can keep.
Regulus bites lightly into the skin above James's hip before flicking his trousers open and shimming them off of him. James blinks up at the younger boy, who pauses now, just watching. He brings his hand to hold Regulus's face and Regulus leans into the touch, turning to kiss the inside of James's palm. An affection so strong he thinks it might pull the heart from his chest runs through James.
"Okay?" he asks, voice barely there.
Regulus nods. "Yeah James, yeah, it's good. You're so—you're so good."
He takes James's mouth before he can answer and James isn't sure if it's the words or the kiss that make him moan. Probably both.
Regulus takes him apart. It's slower and softer than James expects—not that he has much experience to go on. He keeps his own touches confined to Regulus's upper body, keeps them over his clothes, never pushing. Never wanting to. Regulus has him in his hand and then he takes him in his mouth and James just about dies.
"Reg," the name barely makes it out of him, a sound more than anything else. "Fuck—fuck, Reg I'm going to—" his voice breaks but Regulus doesn't move.
Everything blurs together after that—touch and sound and sight. His chest hitching as he tries to breathe through it.
"Merlin," he whispers, blinking his eyes open, his body full of pins and needles as Regulus sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
"C'mere," James manages, reaching for him. Regulus pauses before allowing himself to be pulled into James's arms. They lie facing each other, James kissing him, unwilling to lose the weight of him. The heat.
Eventually Regulus makes a noise of protest, pulling back slightly. "I need a minute," he gasps, and James instantly lets go, watching Regulus roll onto his back, chest heaving, trousers tented.
"You're sure you don't want—"
Regulus shakes his head, a sharp motion, and James lets it go, mirroring Regulus's position on his back, looking up at the ceiling above them. He can feel the sweat cooling on his skin.
"Who are they?" he asks after a few moments.
"Who?" Regulus still sounds breathless.
James lifts his arm, pointing at the painting on the ceiling before looking over at Reg. "The room made itself for you, right?"
Regulus nods slowly, eyes running over the different painted figures, chewing on his bottom lip. It's a few seconds before he answers.
"It's a Muggle painting," he says finally, then, after a short pause. "My favourite."
James is still looking at him, drinking in his profile. The ridge of his nose. The valleys of his cheeks. "You know a lot about Muggle art?"
Regulus shrugs. "We have a summer home in Scotland. I used to sneak out sometimes, go into the city, go to the galleries."
James laughs. "Only you would break the rules so you could go to a museum."
"Excuse me for being cultured," Regulus says with a huff, though James can tell he isn't really annoyed.
"So," James prods, grinning a little, "who are they?"
Regulus swallows. "That's Achilles," he points to the blond man who seems to be rather dramatically pushing everyone away, "and that's Patroclus," he points to the pale body in his arms.
"He's dead yeah? Pat-row-what's-his-face?"
Regulus smiles a little. "Patroclus. And yes. He's dead," that sits between them as they both look up, James taking in the heartbroken expressions on the painted faces.
"They were lovers," Regulus goes on eventually, "knew each other their whole lives, fought beside each other, they were inseparable."
"What happened?" James asks, feeling a new twinge in his stomach at the image floating above them.
"Patroclus decided to do something stupid and noble, got himself killed. It destroyed Achilles, he basically lost his mind after that. He refused to burry him at first, and when he finally let them burn the body he made his men promise that when he died they would mix his ashes with Patroclus's, so that they could be together."
James lets out a low whistle. "Jeez Reg, that's like the most depressing story I have ever heard."
Regulus laughs, the noise curling around James and making him warm. "It's—yeah—yeah a bit. But, I don't know. They loved each other. They loved each other more than anything else in the world, more than power, more than glory, more than winning the war. I've never seen that in real life—never seen people love like nothing else matters. It aches but...in a good way, you know?"
Finally, Regulus turns his head to look at him, and James feels his chest swell.
"Yeah," he says after a moment, reaching forward to tuck a dark curl behind Regulus's ear. "Yeah I know."
Regulus rolls onto his side and they're kissing again, slowly, softly, without a purpose. James runs his hand up Regulus's back, cupping his head.
"I think he was a wizard," Regulus says when they break apart.
"Who?" James asks, brain fuzzy.
"Achilles," Regulus is practically whispering, their faces close together, "in the Muggle story his mother is a nymph and she hates Patroclus because he's only human and she wants her son to be with a god."
James can see how Regulus might relate to that—a mother obsessed with status.
"But Achilles doesn't care," Regulus goes on, "he never gives Patroclus up, not even at the end, not even in death." Reg brings his hand to James's face, thumb brushing his cheek.
"You think the gods were wizards?" James asks after a while.
Regulus shrugs. "Some of them, maybe."
"And Achilles fell in love with a Muggle?"
Regulus kisses him again. "It's just a theory," he says against his lips.
But it doesn't sound like it's "just" anything to Regulus.
They stay like that, tangled up in one another, sometimes talking, sometimes not. James has never felt this before—this profound comfort. He kisses Regulus until he's soft and warm, he kisses him until his edges start to dull, until he nestles his head against James's chest.
I love you, James thinks. Nearly says out loud. Except he knows it's too soon. Knows it'll bring the fear back to Regulus's body. So he holds his tongue. But he thinks it—thinks it into every stroke of his back, every kiss to the top of his head.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
"James?" the voice that pulls him out of his sleep is soft and close. "James?"
He cracks his eyes open, just enough to see Regulus's face on the pillow next to him. He leans forward automatically, sleepily pressing their mouthes together.
"Merlin, James!" Regulus laughs, and James likes that, so he keeps kissing, kisses the laughter right out of his mouth.
"We fell asleep," Regulus tries to say between their lips.
"Hmm," James is barely paying attention, Regulus's body is sleep warm and inviting and his hands swallow it up.
"James it's seven in the morning."
It takes a minute for that to sink in. And then—
"Oh shit!"
He practically rolls off the bed, scrounging around on the floor for his clothes. "Shit, shit, shit," he hisses as he pulls up his trousers.
"Sorry," Regulus yawns from the bed. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"You do not apologize for a single thing that happened last night," James says, twirling about himself as he looks for his shirt. "You were bloody fantastic. I'm just an idiot—ah ha!"
He snatches the shirt up off the floor by the foot of the bed, awkwardly shoving it over his head. When his face pokes through the collar he gets a look at Regulus properly for the first time, sitting crosslegged in the middle of the mattress, shirt untucked, curls a mess. James groans.
"Merlin, look at you."
Regulus quirks his brow. "Look at me?"
But James is already crawling towards him, kissing him again, and Regulus is laughing again, and it's really all a very vicious cycle.
"You're beautiful," James murmurs into his mouth.
Regulus pushes him away, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. "Go you lunatic," he huffs, "before my brother sends out a fucking search party for you."
"Ugh," James pulls himself back off the bed. "Good point." He grabs his wand and shoves the map in his waistband. "Alright, I guess..." he gets as far as the door before looking back, Regulus still where he left him.
"You're okay?" James asks. And he means so much. He means about all of it. About everything.
"Yeah James," Regulus says slowly. "Yeah, I'm okay. I might even be happy, if you can believe it."
James feels his face ache with the size of the smile that spreads across it. "Merry Christmas Regulus."
"Merry Christmas James."
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
He's halfway back to the dorms when he remembers that he left the invisibility cloak stashed up in the astronomy tower, by the time he runs up to get it and comes back the morning is well on its way. If he had been thinking he would have used the cloak. It would have made sneaking up to his room without attracting any attention a trifle easier.
But he isn't thinking.
So when the portrait swings open and he darts inside he, of course, finds himself face to face with Sirius.
"Oh—"
They both freeze, looking at one another. Sirius has deep purple circles under his eyes, hair less of an artful mess than it usually is and more of just a general disaster, much like James's.
"Long walk," Sirius breaks the silence. Voice flat.
"Er—yeah," James responds helplessly.
Sirius gives him a once over before brushing past. "The shower should be free, Moony just finished."
"Right, thanks," James wants to say more—so much more—but he doesn't even know where to start.
"Oh and James?"
He turns around, Sirius halfway out of the portrait already.
"Your shirt's inside-out."
James blinks, looks down at himself, blinks again. "Shit I—" but Sirius is gone. "Shit."
For some reason he feels the need to right this wrong immediately, dropping the cloak at his feet and pulling his shirt over his head.
"Owe owe!"
He's halfway through putting it back on when he looks up to see Alice, Marlene and Lily, walking down the stairs into the common room.
"Take it off Potter!" Alice teases.
"Har har har," James yanks the shirt over his head.
"Going our way?" she asks, nodding towards the corridor.
James shakes his head. "Nah, I gotta shower still."
"Aren't those the clothes you were wearing last night?" Marlene asks, wrinkling her nose.
"Uh, yeah?" James feels like he's literally vibrating with all the adrenaline pumping through him. "Couldn't sleep, went for a walk, just got back, now I'm gonna take a shower. That okay with you McKinnon?"
"Merlin Potter, take a breath once and a while," Alice says before looking over his shoulder. "Lily, dear, something wrong?"
Lily seems to have momentarily stalled on the stairs, eyes staring dazedly at James.
"Evans?" he asks, a little concerned.
"Ah," Alice leans into James's side. "I think your little show may have entranced her."
That seems to wake Lily up. "What?" she says, and then quickly; "Lets go, weren't we going?" She makes a b-line for the portrait, freckled cheeks flushed and eyes determinedly not on James.
Alice laughs as Lily starts dragging Marlene away by the arm. "Well, guess we're suddenly in a rush," she knocks James's shoulder. "I'll see you before London yeah?"
"Er—yeah" James says as he watches the girls file out of the portrait, feeling not at all certain that he knows what just happened.
He scoops the cloak up off the floor in a daze, taking the stairs two at a time up to the bedroom.
"Merlin Prongs, where the hell have you been?" Peter asks as James collapses onto his bed.
"Out. Walk," he waves his hand lazily in the air and hears Peter snort.
"You sound like you're still drunk."
James only grunts, not bothering to correct him. His eyes drifting closed. He hears the sound of the door opening and closing as Peter heads down to breakfast.
I might even be happy.
Regulus had said that.
Had had said that because of James.
He replays the memory a few more times, Regulus messy and soft and laughing. He feels like he's floating.
"James?"
He opens his eyes to find Remus hovering over him, hair wet from the shower, expression concerned. "Are you okay?"
James laughs, startling him. "Yeah, yeah I'm good Moony," he pulls himself up, scrubbing at his face. "There any hot water left?"
Remus's grimaces. "Some, I'd give it a minute. You know how Padfoot is, bloody boils himself."
James snorts, watching Remus fold up his pyjamas and fit them in his luggage.
"You excited to go home?"
Remus shrugs, pausing for a minute before straightening up. "I'm excited there's no full moon over the break." He offers James a weak smile.
"You know if there was I'd make you come to mine," because it's true, they've done it before.
Remus nods, "Yeah I know James."
"Good. You'll come over anyway yeah? For New Years Eve? Petes coming too."
"I er—" his face looks tight and he starts fiddling with his luggage again. "I don't know, I might stay with my mum, she gets lonely."
James's eyes narrow. "Remus?" he prods, because they both know that that isn't true. Remus's parents are alright, they're no Walburga, but James knows Remus hates that house. The delicacy of it. The guilt that his parents have never been able to let go of. The realities they never seem to accept.
The other boy sighs. "I just think...I think Sirius might not want me there. That's all. It's not a big deal."
James swings his legs off the bed, walking over to Remus's side. "He wants you there," James says with absolute certainty.
"James—"
"I know you're fighting," he cuts the other boy off, "but I also know Sirius. I know he wants you there. And I know I want you there. And Peter wants you there. And my mother really wants you there. Between you and I, you've always been her favourite," that gets a soft laugh out of Remus. "But don't tell Padfoot I said that."
"Cross my heart," Remus makes the motion with his fingers and James smiles.
"So really," he goes on, "the only thing that matters, is whether or not you want to be there?"
There's a pause, Remus pulling his lower lip anxiously between his teeth, not really looking at James.
"I do," he says eventually. "'Course I do."
"Good man," James slaps him on the shoulder, "it's settled then." He tosses the map and his wand onto his bed before moving towards the thoroughly debauched looking bathroom.
"James?" Remus calls to him as he gets to the door, causing James to turn around. "Thank you."
James nods, wishing he could say more but not at all sure how to say any of it without making things worse.
"You're not alone Remus," is what comes out of him in the end, his friend's eyes widening, "okay?"
Remus nods. "Okay."
And James wonders if one day he'll actually be able to convince all the people he loves that it's true.