Dear James,
I will try to refrain from nagging you too much about your horrendously sparse letters lately, but let me just remind you that I literally birthed you from my body, so you could perhaps put in a bit more effort darling.
I enclosed the jumper you asked for (it was curled in a heap under your bed of course), tell me, does Remus let you boys get away with such poor cleanliness in his room? Should I write him for tips?
In any case, your father and I were both thrilled to hear about your win against Hufflepuff, he's thinking about coming down for your next match so you'll have to let me know if that's an idea you'd like me to get out of his head. I know how very uncool having your parents doting on you can be (I should let you know, he has gotten his old school scarf and Gryffindor jumper—yes, the one with the roaring lion on the front—ready to go just for the occasion). He's working quite a lot these days, I think he just wants something to look forward to. Not that I'm trying to guilt you into letting us come or anything (I too may have pulled my Gryffindor apparel from the basement, but that is purely a coincidence).
Your cousin Daphne is having a baby, I can tell you're already pretending you don't know who she is but I promise you you've been introduced to her on several occasions. I'll be heading to Diagon Alley to pick out a present and I was thinking I'd get some new trainers for you and Sirius, you two were both looking ratty over Christmas. So you can be expecting those in the near future.
You see James Potter, this is a letter, look at all those words. Don't you feel so much better informed now? I can feel our mother-son relationship strengthening with each sentence (be warned, if you reply to me with four sentences or less your father and I will be showing up to your quidditch game in matching lion jumpers whether you want us to or not).
Give my love to Sirius and the boys!
Sincerely,
your gracious, youthful, incredible mother
Mum,
Please. I'm begging you. Anything but the lion jumper. ANYTHING. You can come, sure, but be a little more chill about it okay? Like maybe wear a trench coat, some hats, sunglasses—I'm just throwing out ideas here!
Listen, it's not my fault my life is dull. I'm doing alright in classes, Frank has us practicing twice a day at this point, the tyrant, but that's hardly new. Mostly everything is the same as it always is.Also, my room in not that messy. Me and Sirius are incredibly well kept young gentlemen I'll have you know. Well, I am anyway. And Remus is not the boss of us!!! (but please don't tell him I said that)
Have they got dad working on the dark mark case? Is that why he's so busy? Bloody mad that was, how it just appeared like that in the middle of London. Do you know anymore about what happened? Have they caught who did it?
See look, loads of words!
Sincerely,
the best son ever, James
A month after they get back from Christmas holidays the image of a skull eating a snake is projected into the sky over downtown London. Clearly magical. Clearly in violation of just about every line of the Statute of Secrecy. The Aurors have to oblivate a ton of muggles and spread a fake news story about how it was promotion for some film or something. No one knows where it came from or what it means, and the Ministry has been infuriatingly tightlipped. Of course, there are rumours that it's connected to the Death Eaters, but they've never done anything like this before. Anything this big.
"Bullshit," Sirius mutters, crumpling up the Daily Prophet in his hands before incendio-ing it.
"Oi!" Peter tries to lean away, "you're getting ash in my eggs," he says, mouth full.
"Nothing again?" James asks, not bothering to look up.
"What the hell are they playing at?" Sirius demands indignantly, fist slamming down on the table so hard the cutlery rattles. "How can they say nothing? How can they KNOW nothing? It's been months at this point. I mean, don't we deserve some kind of, I don't know, fucking explanation?"
It's strange for James, to see the differences between Sirius and Regulus. When they first heard about the mark Sirius got loud and angry and reckless—there have been a lot of scuffles in the corridors. Not that James is in any position to criticize, he's been getting into a fair few fights of his own recently. But Reg? Reg got quiet. There were a few nights where they just lay next to each other, not touching, not talking. It should have been boring, frustrating, but it wasn't. It was nice to have him there, at James's side, even if he couldn't explain to James what he was feeling, even if he needed to disappear for a bit. Things are better now, but the same way that Sirius's anger lingers just under his skin, so does Reg's silence.
"They're hiding something," Remus speaks up, drawing James's attention across the table.
"You think someone in the Ministry had something to do with it?" James asks, feeling a bit uneasy about that, seeing as his dad is part of the Ministry.
Remus just shrugs. "I think they fucked up, and now they're trying to fix it before they have to admit to it."
"Well they're doing a shit job," Sirius growls. "How hard can it be to find them? I mean they were casting in the middle of London, someone had to have seen them!"
"Maybe they have found them and they just don't want to release their names to the public," Remus says, pushing the food around on his plate.
"No," James says sternly, "they wouldn't do that, no way."
"I'm just saying, the Death Eaters have a lot of sympathizers within the Ministry."
"What are you talking about?" James doesn't know why this feels like a personal attack but for some reason it does. "The Minister of Magic has come out a dozen times renouncing them, he put more dementors on Azakaban to make sure the prisoners were secure—the Ministry does not support these assholes."
Remus sighs, looking up from his plate. "You know I'm not talking about your dad, right?"
"Well I don't know how you could not be," James says defensively.
"I'm just saying," he goes on, sounding a bit exasperated, "that I don't think we can trust everything the Ministry tells us."
"I'm with Moony," Sirius pipes up, and James turns to him with a look of betrayal on his face.
"I'm not talking about Fleamont, obviously," Sirius goes on. "But my dad worked for the Ministry too, and my cousins' awful husbands are working there now. The way I reckon it, the good guys are outnumbered."
James officially hates this conversation.
His eyes skate over to the Slytherin table. They stand out starkly from the rest of the hall. He's not saying it's all of them, not saying that there aren't some Slytherins' with tense faces and slouched shoulders. He's just saying it's a lot less than the rest of the school.
James sighs, pushing his plate away and getting to his feet.
"Where are you going?" Sirius asks. "Class doesn't start for another half-hour."
James holds up the folded parchment in his hand. "Gotta post a letter to my mum, I'll see you in charms?"
"Yeah, alright."
James pats him on the shoulder, giving Peter and Remus a nod before heading out of the hall and towards the owlery.
Things are...okay...between him and Sirius. He's at least talking to James again, which is something. But there's an undeniable stiffness to their conversations. It makes James's skin crawl. He keeps telling himself to follow Lily's advice and apologize. Or admit that he's scared. Say something. Anything. But months have passed and he still hasn't. Tomorrow, he keeps telling himself, I'll do it tomorrow.
The one upside to this, if there is any, is that it seems to have forced Sirius and Remus to come to some sort of agreement. James isn't exactly sure what it is, he just knows that the weirder things get between him and Sirius the easier they get with Sirius and Remus. He tries to think of it as a good thing. Tries not to be jealous. Not to hate Remus for it.
So things are tense. Tense at school. Tense outside of school. You can feel it when you walk down the halls, feel it in the whispered insults and rumours. Who cast the mark? Where are they? Why haven't they been caught? In the white faces of the first years you see the other fear: are they coming for us?
Honestly, James is sick of it. So maybe that's why, on his way back down from the owlery, when he spots a head of short, black curls disappearing around the corner in front of him, he decides that charms is not at all what he wants to do be doing with his morning.
Luckily, the corridor Regulus turns down is empty and James settles himself against the wall, watching the back in front of him for a minute before letting out a whistle.
Regulus looks over his shoulder, sees James, does a double take, then slows to a stop and turns around. He stands there for a few minutes, seemingly unable to decide whether to be surprised or annoyed.
"Can I help you Potter?" he asks eventually.
James smirks. "I bet you can," he nods towards the door beside him, and sees Regulus recognize it for what it is.
"A broom cupboard Potter? Really? How gauche of you." But he steps forward anyway, eyes darting around the hallway, checking that they're still alone.
"Broom cupboards are highly undervalued spaces you know."
Regulus arches his brow. "Are they?"
James nods. "Everyone always goes on and on about the towers and the great hall and the moving staircases. But when do they ever talk about the real backbone of this castle?"
"The broom cupboards?" he can see Regulus fighting off a smile and it makes something warm pool in James's stomach.
He opens the door, gesturing with a dramatic bow for Regulus to enter. "The broom cupboards."
As soon as the door closes behind them Regulus rounds on James, sending him a pointed look. "You going to tell me what the hell this is about?"
Regulus's hair is still short, but it's grown enough that little curls have started to wisp around his ears and the back of his neck. James is a little obsessed with it, if he's being honest.
"James?" Regulus asks, and James realizes he's been staring.
"Sorry, you're very distracting" he grins out of the corner of his mouth and watches Regulus blush even as he rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah—what do you want?"
"I just realized what day it is, that's all," James says, still grinning as he leans back against the door.
Regulus looks at him flatly. "It's Wednesday."
"Yes. It's the Wednesday I take you into the forest."
There's a beat of silence.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Jury's out on whether or not I had it to begin with," James quips, and then, more sincerely; "C'mon Reg, it'll be fun. Besides, I have something I want to show you."
"Oh well, in that case," he says sarcastically. "James, I have transfiguration in fifteen minutes."
"Ah, but what if you didn't though?"
Regulus is apparently so outraged by this statement that all he can manage in response is a series of indignant noises that James has to try very hard not to laugh at.
After enduring a few seconds of silent glaring James holds out his hand and, reluctantly, Regulus allows himself to be pulled forward, pressing into James who bends down, nosing at the spot just behind Regulus's ear. James's lips brush his skin and he feels Regulus shiver.
"C'mon on Reg," he hums, "break the rules for me."
Regulus scoffs but it lacks conviction. "I'm already breaking the rules."
"So break them a little more," he kisses him gently just under his jaw.
"You—are ridiculous."
"Mhm," James continues his light kisses, innocent, purposeless, trailing all along his neck.
"Merlin—fine—FINE," he's breathing heavy when he steps back, face fully red now, and James can't help but look smug.
"You're going to kill me one of these days," Regulus murmurs, running a hand over his short hair, trying to straighten himself out.
"Nah, never. What would I do without you?" he sends him a smile that makes something flicker in Regulus's eyes.
He has half a mind to ask him about it but doesn't want to push his luck. "You wait here—"
"Wait here? In the broom cupboard?"
"—I'll go grab the invisibility cloak," ignoring him as his hand reaches for the doorknob. "It'll take me five minutes."
"James Potter, I am not going to wait for you in a broom cupboard!"
Regulus does wait for him in a broom cupboard—even if he makes several angry comments about it under his breath after James gets back. With the cloak it's incredibly easy to get out of the castle and passed the Care for Magical Creatures class on the lawn outside. Spring is only just blooming, the weather still cold enough that you need a jacket or sweater. But the snow is gone, and today the sun is out, making it feel warmer than it is. James waits until they're sufficiently past the tree line before he takes the cloak off.
"I can't believe I let you convince me to do this," Regulus mumbles, wand held in his hand like he's expecting to be attacked at any moment. Which is fair enough, there are a bunch of nasties in these trees, luckily James knows this place pretty well by now. Knows where to go and what not to step on.
"I've never skived off class before."
James smiles down at him, stepping over a fallen trunk. "What? No! I'm shocked."
Regulus shoves him into a nearby tree and James lets out a laugh that is, admittedly, quite loud.
"Merlin, keep your voice down before everything in here knows where we are."
James rolls his eyes, pushing some bushes out of the way as he leads them on. "Everything worth being afraid of already knows we're here."
The branches are thick over their heads causing the sunlight to drip down, lighting the way in tiny puddles.
"I'm sorry what?" Regulus turns to him, indignant.
"Don't worry, they won't bother us as long as we don't bother them. Just stay out of their space."
"Their space," Regulus repeats slowly, like it's the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "How do you know what their space is, exactly?"
James shoots him a smile. "You follow me."
"Oh, because you're the beast whisperer are you?"
"I just happen to have excellent intuition," he looks at Regulus out of the corner of his eye. "Also, maybe don't call them beasts."
"What?"
James shrugs. "Just not very polite, is it?"
There's a beat or two of silence before Regulus laughs, his laugh is softer than James's, quieter. It's something James always wishes he could hold in his hand or slip in his back pocket and keep for later.
"You are an enigma you know that?"
"Me?" James demands, slightly outraged. "You, Regulus Black, want to call ME an enigma?"
"Half the time you're this obnoxious Quidditch lad—"
"I am not a lad. How am I a lad? I don't have "lad" energy at all!"
"Oh yes, you do," Regulus goes on, clearly enjoying this a little too much. "Walking through the halls like you own the place, like some bloody jock teen heartthrob—"
"Oi! You're also a jock."
But Regulus shakes his head. "I'm on the Quidditch team," he says, ducking below a low hanging branch, "but I'm not a jock."
"That makes no sense at all."
Regulus only waves him off. "You really should be such an airhead and then—then—it's like you think about everyone all the time. You care more than anyone I've ever met it's—" he shakes his head, lost for words. And then; "I get it though, why Sirius was drawn to you. Why he became so obsessed."
James scoffs, unable to tell if Regulus is being sincere or just having a laugh. "Sirius has never been obsessed with me."
"Yes, he has. He is. I used to hate it."
And doesn't that just peak James's interest. "Were you jealous?"
Regulus huffs out a laugh. "Of course I was jealous. You were cooler than me, and older than me, and I knew exactly what was going to happen."
"And what's that?"
Regulus is quiet for a moment, the noise of twigs snapping under their feet the only thing filling the space between them.
"I knew you were going to take him away," he says it like he doesn't want to. Like it has to fight its way out of his mouth.
"I don't think I took him away as much as you lot forced him out—" and then, of course, his brain catches up with his mouth and he realizes what he's just said. "Or—not you, but—"
Luckily, he's saved from having to explain himself as they break through the foliage and into the clearing on the other side. Regulus lets out a gasp that James is pretty sure he's going to be replaying in his head for the next week.
"Sweet, huh?" James says smugly, looking out at the small waterfall in front of them. The water slips down the rocks and pools in a decent sized pond at the bottom, the green vines snaking along the stones only just starting to bud with little pink flowers. He found it last year during one of the full moons, and he's been back with Sirius a few times since.
"It's beautiful," Regulus says, without the trees over their heads the sun pours down uninterrupted, making the water sparkle.
James nods, knocking his shoulder against Regulus's before stepping forward and starting to unbutton his shirt.
"Um—excuse me? What are you doing?"
"Going swimming, obviously," he shoots Regulus a grin as he slides the shirt off his shoulders.
"Swimming?" Regulus repeats indignantly. "You can't go swimming in there James, are you completely insane?"
"And why not?"
"Well, for starters, it's going to be freezing."
"Ah, good point," James pulls out his wand, casting a warming charm over the water before bending down to check the temperature with fingers. "Perfect," he winks at Regulus over his shoulder, the younger boy looking scandalized.
"Did you just—did you just warm the whole pond?" he asks
"Mmhm," James straightens up, dropping his wand onto the pile with his shirt and glasses.
"That's—that's a complicated variation on that spell," he says, somewhere between impressed and annoyed.
"Is it?" James asks innocently, slipping out of his trousers and standing in front of Regulus in his pants. "Well, c'mon?"
"Wait—James—Jesus, you absolute mad man, you can't just go jumping into a random body of water in this forest of all places!" he sounds nearly hysterical and James has to bite down on his lower lip to keep from laughing. "You have no idea what could be in there."
He does actually, having been in several times. First as a stag, of course, always safer that way.
"Reckon we might run into some mermaids?" he asks cheekily.
Regulus gives him a flat look. "That would not be nearly as fun as you seem to think it would be."
James shrugs. "Well, only one way to find out."
"No, there is definitely more than one way to find out."
"C'mon Reg," he stands at the edge of the shore, back to the water, "what's life without a little risk?"
"Safe."
James only laughs as he falls back into the water. It's deceptively deep, and he flips himself around so he can dive further down before coming back up for air.
"James Potter I swear to merlin if whatever is in that water doesn't kill you I will," he hears as he breaks the surface. Reg is on his hands and knees at the water's edge, a stern look on his face.
James shakes out his hair, swimming back over. "Seems a bit contradictory, don't you think?"
Regulus makes a growling noise that James secretly loves.
"Reg," he says softly, sincere as he can manage. "It's safe, I promise."
Regulus searches his face for a moment. "You've done this before?"
James nods. "About a dozen times."
Regulus looks no less exasperated. "What kind of person wanders into a deadly forest just to have an afternoon swim?"
James only rolls his eyes, diving back below the surface. The water is so clear that he's almost certain this whole place has been magicked, by the founders or someone who came after. Everything about it is so idyllic—so juxtaposed to the rest of the dark, overgrown forest.
He comes back to the surface and finds Regulus on his feet again, shoes and socks off, shirt halfway undone.
"There we go," James smiles, spitting water out of his mouth.
Regulus sends him a dry look. "I can't believe I'm doing this."
"I can, it's brilliant."
The younger boy shimmies out of his shirt and James feels something tug hard on his gut. He'd forgotten that he'd never seen Regulus anything but fully dressed before and he hadn't quite prepared himself for what it would feel like. Which apparently is overwhelming. Shirtless Regulus, James realizes, is a special kind of weakness for him.
"You're sure there's nothing in here that's going to eat me?" Regulus does away with his trousers and comes to stand at the edge of the water. "James?"
"What? Sorry?" James shakes himself, trying to focus.
"No sea monsters, oui?"
James blinks. "Was that French? Did you just speak French to me?" He's not sure his heart can handle this.
Regulus blushes. "Sorry, it just slipped out."
"Do NOT apologize. Say something else."
"What?"
"In French, say something else," James is treading water, shoulders bobbing in and out of the pond, and he's glad to have an excuse for the breathless sound of his voice.
For a moment he doesn't think Reg is going to do it, he just stands there watching him. And then; "J'ai peur de te blesser," his voice is soft, changed by the different accent, the syllables gooey in a way they aren't in English, "parce que je t'aime. Je pense que je le ferai toujours."
James makes a pleased humming noise. "What did you say?"
Regulus blinks before looking away. "I said your hair looks ridiculous."
James scowls. "Did not."
"Are you suddenly fluent in French Potter?"
"Oh, please," he rolls his eyes, "don't start with 'Potter' again. Makes me feel like I'm in detention or something."
Regulus snorts. "A familiar feeling for you, I'm sure."
"Har, har, har, now get in here before I drag you in."
"Pfft," Regulus scoffs. "You woul—"
But before he can finish he gets a face full of water as James splashes, what seems like, nearly half the pond on him.
"You. Are. Five." Regulus bites out, wiping the water from his face.
James only laughs. "Big words from the man still standing on the shore," he starts to swim further out, but stays on his back so that he doesn't break eyes contact with Regulus. "Come on Black, come and get me."
He sees the light flash in Regulus's eyes. "You're mine Potter."
James laughs again, turning to swim away properly as he hears Regulus hit the water.
Yes, he thinks, cutting across the pond. Yes I am.
A while later they're lying on their backs in the sun, Regulus dressed again, James still in just his pants, both with their eyes closed, enjoying the warmth.
"We'll have to go back eventually, I can't skip out on the whole day," Regulus says, causing James to make a childish grumbling noise.
"Ugh why? School is so miserable. Here is so nice."
"Yeah, nice until something eats us."
James snorts. "Nothing is going to eat us."
"If you say so."
James cracks his eyes open, turning his head to look at Regulus. It really is a bit ridiculous, how much he enjoys it, just watching him. How he could do it all day. His skin is flushed from the sun, curls slightly tighter after the water. James wants to run his hands through them but he's pretty sure Reg doesn't want to be touched right now. He's gotten good at picking up on his moods, on the way they shift. There are good days and bad days, sure, but there are also good moments and bad moments. It changes, even within the time they spend together. James understands that, even if he doesn't know why.
"You're staring," Regulus says without opening his eyes.
James smiles. "You're beautiful."
Regulus makes an indignant noise. "I don't know why you say that."
"I don't know why you don't believe it."
He sees Regulus tense and then force himself to relax. "I've never heard it before."
Which James thinks is a travesty. "Well, you are."
Silence drifts back around them, filled by the noise of the breeze in the trees and the humming of the water beside them.
"Hey Reg?" James finds himself asking.
"Mm?"
"Have you—have you done this," he motions between the two of them "...before?"
He feels the stillness as much as he sees it, watching Regulus's adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows.
"Yes," he says carefully.
James thinks that, deep down, he already knew that, but still he finds himself surprised by it. "Was it serious?"
He watches lines appear on Regulus's face as he squeezes his eyes more tightly closed.
"I guess that would depend on your idea of serious."
James accepts this, resisting the urge to reach out and smooth the wrinkles from his face. "They never told you you were beautiful?"
He hears Regulus's breathing hitch.
"Reg—"
"No," he interrupts quickly. "I—they didn't see me that way. Most people don't see me the way you see me. Je ne le mérite pas."
James feels his chest grow tight at the tone of Regulus's voice, rolling towards him and onto his side. "It's not the way I see you. It's just the way you are."
Regulus brings his hands up to cover his face. "You can't—say things like that—to me." His words are choked, like he doesn't have the air to force them out.
"Why?"
"Because they hurt."
"They aren't supposed to."
Regulus nods, dropping his hands to look at James again. "I know."
And oh that look. That look breaks his heart.
"I'm sorry," James whispers, but Regulus just shakes his head.
"Don't be," he reaches out and runs his hand through James's wet hair, James closes his eyes falling into the touch. "I just wish I—I just wish this was easier."
There's is a delicacy to this confession. A vulnerability that James knows Regulus hates. His hand pauses, thumb rubbing gentle circles into James's temple.
"I don't think important things are supposed to be easy," he says, voice soft. He opens his eyes to find that Regulus has rolled onto his side as well. "You're important Reg, you're so fucking important. Especially to me."
Regulus's eyes widen, thumb stilling. "Je ne te mérite pas," he mumbles again.
"What does that mean?" James asks, practically whispering, anything else would feel too loud in the fragile space that's built up around them.
Regulus looks back at him, grey eyes full of so much feeling they nearly swallow James whole. Eventually he exhales, propping himself up on his elbow and leaning down to press a chaste kiss to James's mouth. He can taste the water. The sunlight. The sadness.
Regulus pulls back, still leaning over him. "I said your hair looks ridiculous."
A choked laugh finds its way up James's throat. "I don't believe you," he turns his head, kissing the palm of the hand that's still holding him.
Regulus smiles sadly. "Good."
They head back to the castle for lunch. James makes several attempts to dry his hair with little success. Domestic spells have never been his strong suit but even Regulus can't seem to get it to work.
"There's just so much of it," he says, exasperated.
"Whatever, if anyone asks I'll just tell them I took a shower or something."
Regulus arches his brow. "Do people often ask you about your hair?"
"Obviously," he makes a show of primping it, "it's got quite the fan club."
"I'm sure it does."
They part in an empty corridor, James whipping off the cloak and Regulus instantly pulling away.
"I'll see you later, yeah?"
The younger boy nods, "yeah."
James makes a run back to Gryffindor tower to drop off the cloak and grab his books. He tries to do something with his hair again but it's no use.
"You are bloody ridiculous," he mutters at it before giving up and heading for the Great Hall. He's about two corridors away when he spots his friends, chatting against the wall outside of class. He's in such a good mood that he forgets that he ditched them without any warning this morning. That he went to the owlery and never came back. Forgets that they will almost certainly demand an explanation. He blames the sun. Blames Regulus's mouth. They've made his brain go fuzzy.
"James!" Peter is the first one to see him, causing the other two to swivel towards him.
James smiles until he sees the expression on Sirius's face.
Oh, he thinks.
Oh shit.
"That was some trip to the owlery," his friend says coldly.
"Er—"
"Is your hair wet?" Remus asks, squinting at him.
Fuck.
"Yeah, I took a shower."
"Where?" Sirius demands, voice almost as sharp as the look in his eyes.
"What?"
"Where did you take a shower? Because it wasn't in our room, we checked."
James opens and closes his mouth several times but can't quite make any words come out.
"What? Nothing?"
"Sirius," Remus cautions, James appreciates the effort, but they both know it's a lost cause.
"You taking your 'walks' in the middle of the day now? Damn Jamie, it's a miracle you can stand with all the bloody walking you do."
"Sirius—"
"No, fuck you," Sirius cuts him off, clearly fuming. "I'm so tired of your bullshit. I mean, you can't even be bothered to come up with a decent lie for fucks sake. You couldn't care less about us if you tried."
"OKAY," James cuts across him, "that's not fair."
"Yeah whatever, I'm done with this," Sirius makes to walk away but James grabs his arm and then, in a split second decision, starts dragging him towards the empty classroom next to them.
"Oi!" Sirius says indignantly, but he doesn't really put up much of a fight.
"James," Remus steps forward, eyes travelling nervously between the pair of them, clearly unsure of whether or not he should step in.
"Me and Pads need to have a talk, we'll meet you guys in the great hall, yeah?"
Remus still hesitates, hovering in the doorway as James shoves Sirius inside.
"Moony, I'm not going to fight him, I promise. I just want to talk."
"I might fight him," Sirius calls from behind James.
Remus raises his eyebrow but James waves his concerns away. "If he really wants to throw a punch I can take it."
"Well that's comforting," Remus says dryly. He looks between them one more time before shaking his head. "C'mon Pete, lets go," he disappears back into the corridor, door closing behind him.
James exhales, gearing himself up for whatever the hell is coming next because, to be honest, he doesn't really have a plan.
Sirius glares at him. "So," he spits, "are we going to discuss your favourite routes?"
"Sirius."
"—the sights you see along the way? I hear the grounds are great for bird watching, maybe that's what you've been doing with your time—"
"Sirius."
"—course, probably not the best time for bird watching, the middle of the night, star gazing then? Shall we discuss our favourite constellations? Mine, personally, is Alpha Canis Majoris, but you can see why I might be slightly bias—"
"I've been seeing someone."
Sirius shuts his mouth, the tirade of words coming to an end, leaving them just standing there, staring at one another. The silence feels deafening.
"Yeah," Sirius says finally, some of the energy gone out of him but none of the anger, that still simmers under his words, "no shit."
James doesn't exactly know what to say to that.
"You've been lying about it for months. Poorly, sure, but still lying. To me."
"Yeah," James refrains from pointing out that Sirius has also been lying—or at the very least neglecting to mention that he snogged one of their best mates. He can't quite see that accusation going over well right now.
Sirius stares at him expectantly, clearly waiting for some kind of explanation.
He takes a deep breath. "It's a bloke."
Sirius blinks, his entire body going rigid. It's such a sudden change that James can spot it even from across the room.
"What?"
"The person I've been seeing, he's a boy. He doesn't want anyone to know. That's why I didn't tell you, I'm sorry. Really." He says it quickly because he knows if he takes his time he won't get it out. That the words will get stuck in his throat. It's not the whole truth, he knows that, but it's as close as he can get right now.
The silence is stretching on too long and James can feel himself growing anxious. He hopes that this wasn't a mistake. He wanted to make things better, he wanted to get rid of the wall that's been slowly building itself between him and Sirius these past few months. He wanted his friend back.
"You didn't tell me because he asked you not to," Sirius says finally, "or you didn't tell me because you were afraid of how I'd react?"
James sighs, passing a hand over his face and meeting Sirius's eye. "Does it matter?"
"Yes. To me. It matters."
He's not sure what the right answer is here. If there is a right answer. "Both," he says finally. "It was both."
He can't read the expression on Sirius's face, has no idea what he's feeling. James just wants him to tell him it's okay. That they're okay. He opens his mouth to say as much when Sirius suddenly starts forward.
He's leaving, James thinks, feeling his heart clench.
Fuck.
Fuck.
But then Sirius wraps his arms around him, pulling him close, and in his shock it takes James a few minutes to respond—to hold him back.
"I'm sorry," Sirius says, squeezing him. "I'm sorry for whatever I did that made you think you couldn't tell me."
James doesn't think he's ever been so relieved in his life, a shaking breath escaping his lungs as he drops his head against his friend's shoulder. "God, I'm so glad that you—" but his voice cuts out on him, an unexpected wave of emotion closing his throat.
"You're my brother James, my family, there's nothing—" Sirius pulls back so that they can look at each other. "There's nothing bigger than that okay? Not ever."
James feels ridiculous, getting choked up over this, but he'd been so worried. "I feel the same," he coughs, clearing his throat, trying to get rid some of the tightness, "obviously."
"Now who's gone soft eh?" Sirius grins and James shoves him. It feels good. It feels like he can breathe again.
He still doesn't know it's Regulus but James pushes that thought away, not willing to deal with it right now.
"Listen," Sirius's expression is sincere again, "I need to—there's something I need to tell—"
But at that moment Albus Dumbledore's voice fills up the room, so loud that James has to cover his ears.
"All students are to go to the Great Hall immediately. I repeat, all students are to go to the Great Hall immediately."
"What the hell was that?" Sirius demands, looking around like he's expecting to find the headmaster standing behind him.
James shakes his head, hands dropping away from his ears. "No idea, never heard him do that before."
"Oi!" Sirius says suddenly. "You reckon they caught the people who put up the mark?"
James shrugs. "You think they'd call a school assembly for that? Usually they make us wait to get the news from the Prophet like everyone else."
"Yeah, but these are extreme circumstances."
And while James is still skeptical, he can't say that Sirius doesn't have a point. "God, who knows, maybe." He can already hear the sounds of students outside the door.
"I hope they did, I can't wait see those bastards crumble in front of the Wizengamot."
"You think they will?" James asks as they push their way outside. The halls are a mess, confused students looking around, making their way uncertainly towards the great hall.
"Course, you know they're all Slytherin's—big and bad until McGonagall has them in her sights and then it's all 'please professor' 'I didn't mean it professor' 'please don't be mean to me professor'."
James snorts. "Sounds like you're doing an impression of Peter."
Sirius barks out a laugh so loud the people in front of them turn back in alarm.
"You can't tell him I said that."
"Oh, I'm definitely going to."
"Come on, you know he—"
"Here—James! Sirius!" James looks ahead to see Remus waving at them through the chaos that is the Great Hall. James waves back, grabbing hold of Sirius and dragging him through the sea of students to where their friends are sitting at the Gryffindor table.
"Any idea what's going on?" James asks as they sit down.
Remus shakes his head. "Not a clue."
"We just got here and then the food disappeared," Peter adds, looking mournfully at the empty table.
"Hey," Remus says a bit quitter, nudging James, "you two work it out?" he nods to Sirius whose eyes are trained on the Professors at the head table.
"Yeah," James gives him a smile. "Yeah we worked it out."
"Good."
"EVERYONE," all heads snap towards the front of the room where Dumbledore stands at the podium, wand pointed at his throat. "QUIET."
The reaction is instant, couldn't have been faster if it'd been enforced by magic. James looks over at the Slytherin table but he can't spot Regulus amongst the crowd of green and silver.
"Better," Dumbledore smiles kindly, lowering his wand. Behind him all the teachers are assembled, but none of them are sitting, which feels a bit ominous if James is being honest.
"Now," the headmaster goes on, "as I am sure you are all aware, a few months ago a mark was cast over London, one that has been associated with a group of witches and wizards who call themselves Death Eaters," he pauses, eyes running over the body of students before him, James isn't sure he's ever heard the great hall so quiet. Everything is still, it feels like even the enchanted sky above them has frozen.
"It is now believed that this was a warning, foreshadowing an attack that took place today in Diagon Alley."
James feels the air rush out of his lungs, frightened whispers growing up around him. Dumbledore raises his hand and without even having to say a word all mouthes shut.
"As of right now," he licks his lips, "thirteen people have been pronounced dead. Five are in critical care at St. Mungos."
Nothing can keep the silence after that.
"Thirteen," he hears Remus hiss beside him. "That's—that's never happened before has it?" he looks at James as if he knows. "There's never been that many—"
"It is believed," Dumbledore continues, speaking over all the other voices, "that the victims were specifically targeted. We do not, at this time, have confirmation on the names of the victims, but classes have been cancelled for the rest of the afternoon and students will be summoned one at a time by their heads of house to contact their families," he gives them another sweeping look. "In this hour of tragedy our friends are our greatest resource. Our strength. Be there for one another, and we will make it through this. Thank you, you're dismissed."
There's shuffling, feet on the floor, benches being pushed back from the table, but James can't move. An icy sensation dripping down his bones.
"James?" Remus asks, but he barely registers it, his name floating passed him, unable to permeate the new bubble of panic slowly surrounding him.
"Hey, Prongs," Sirius's hand comes down, warm and steadying on his shoulder, and James blinks up at him. "What is it?"
James swallows. "My mum," his voice breaks, "she said—she said she was going to Diagon Alley."
They end up outside on the lawn. James grabs his snitch—something to do, something to keep his hands busy. He wanted to fly but Flitwick saw him with his broom and quickly put an stop to that plan. Apparently, all students are to remain on the ground for the foreseeable future.
He begged McGonagall to let him floo his parents.
"Alphabetical order Potter," she said, already sweeping past him with the first student. "I'm sorry."
So here he is, sitting with his friends on the lawn, throwing a snitch up and down and trying not to think about the fact his mum might be—well.
There are other students around, though most groups are like them—tense, quiet. It feels weird, their fear out of place under the sun. The world does not look tragic, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving.
Remus lets out a sharp hissing noise and James looks down in time to catch him grimacing at his potions textbook.
"You okay Moony?"
He nods stiffly. "Yeah, sorry."
"Don't apologize."
"You need me to grab you a pain potion?" Sirius asks, propping himself up on his elbows.
But Remus shakes his head again. "Nah, it's not so bad this month."
The full moon is tomorrow. James had almost forgotten. He runs his friend over one more time—pale, purple bags under his eyes, shivering slightly.
"You let us know if you wanna go back up to the room okay?" James says, even though he doesn't think he could stand sitting in that quiet. At least out here there are things to distract himself with. At least out here he doesn't feel trapped.
"Thanks, but I'm fine, really."
Remus has already been called up to MacGonagall's office. His mother was there, his father at work, both fine. It's good, Remus doesn't need anymore tragedy in his life. James tries not to let the other thoughts in, the ones that say that that makes it just a little bit more likely that his mum is one of the victims. Lyall Lupin would make sense as a target, he's already been one once after all. James hates himself for thinking that, hates himself for wanting it—even for a second.
This time, when he catches the snitch, his hand wraps around it a little more tightly.
Just not my mum, he thinks over and over again. Not my mum. Anyone but my mum. Which, again, is a shitty thing to want, especially as he looks at the other kids around him. There aren't that many wizards and witches in the world, really there aren't. That thirteen were killed today. Thirteen—
Just not my mum.
Please not my mum.
Anyone but my mum.
He can't remember the last time he told her he loved her. He thinks of the pitiful letters he's been sending home, once every three weeks at most, barely a paragraph long. How could he be so callous?
He loves his dad. Really, he does. But his home is his mum. Without her—without her he—
"James?"
His head snaps up at the feel of Sirius's hand on his arm. James tries to breathe.
"She's going to be okay," Sirius says, voice firm, no hint of doubt. His eyes demand James stay still, just for a moment, demand he hear what's being said to him. "I promise."
And he wants to tell him that he can't—can't possibly promise that. Except that the brilliant thing about Sirius Black, his best mate, is that he makes you believe that he can.
James nods stiffly. "Thanks."
"'course."
Sirius has only just pulled back when the sound of smug laughter cuts across the lawn. James looks up and sees Snape and Mulciber coming out of the castle and they're—fucking—laughing. He sees Regulus pushed against a wall. Sees him struggling to breathe. Sees Snape looming over him, not giving a shit.
I just hope I'm there to see it, Snape had said to him.
See what?
See them break you.
It happens so fast, like a switch has been flicked in his brain and suddenly all his fear and regret and pain turns to anger. It hits him so hard he shakes with it.
He's on his feet before he can think about what he's doing, someone calls his name—Remus, he thinks—but he doesn't turn away. His wand is already out by the time Snape sees him coming. He doesn't care that they're in the open, surrounded by people, that he will definitely be punished for this. Good, he thinks, let them watch.
"Levicorpus," James snaps, dragging Snape up into the air by his ankles.
He sees Mulciber raise his wand but it's knocked out of his hand in the same moment as Sirius comes up beside him.
"Thanks Pads."
"Anytime Prongs."
"What the fuck Potter!" Snape shouts, voice loud in the somber afternoon. There is something dangerous in the air. Something that snaps and crackles and threatens to ignite. And James is glad for it. Because someone might have hurt his mum, and that makes him want to burn the world to the ground.
"Hey Pads?" he says, loud enough that everyone watching can hear. He fully intends to make a show of this. "What colour do you reckon Snivellus's pants are?"
"Ugh, Prongs," Sirius responds in the same showman-like tone, and honestly, it feels good. The two of them, doing what they do best. "You're gonna make me sick-up my lunch."
He hears snickering from some of their audience and feels a nasty smirk curling his lips.
"You think he washes them as much as he washes his hair?"
"You mean never?"
More laughter.
"Fuck. You." Snape punches out, struggling though James can't imagine why. It's his spell, he ought to know better than anyone that there's no way he's getting down until James puts him down.
"Wanna bet on it? I say they're green."
Sirius smirks. "My money's on grey—or brown—the creep has no style."
"Do you want to do the ho—"
"What the hell are you doing?" her voice cuts across the lawn like a knife. James feels it against his skin, the anger in her voice that hasn't been direct at him in a long time.
"Ah, Evans, here to see the show?"
She comes up beside him but he doesn't take his eyes off Snape, doesn't want to look at her face.
"James," she says more quietly, almost desperately. "James, I know you're worried—but this—I thought you were trying to better than this?"
And that irks him. Maybe because it's true. Maybe because she's still defending Snape. Even now. Even after everything that's happened today and everything that she knows that he is.
"He's one of them," he says through gritted teeth.
"You don't know that."
"Sure I do."
She makes an exasperated noise. "You can't punish him just because you feel bad. It won't change anything. It'll just make it worse."
And oh. Oh that's just bang out of order. Because that isn't what he's doing. He isn't making this up just to—to feel better.
"I thought you were done with him, huh? You told me that, you said it—you don't like him anymore," his voice has started getting louder again. "Was that all talk Lily? Just bullshit?"
"No," she grits out. "But none of that makes what you're doing okay."
"Oh and who made you the moral authority? What makes you so good?"
"This is ridiculous—put him down."
"No." And this time James does look at her, looks her dead in the eye. "Now shut up or go away."
Just not my mum.
Please not my mum.
Anyone but my mum.
"Sirius," he says, turning back to Snape, "take off his trousers."
And to his credit, Sirius doesn't hesitate.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you Black," Lily's voice is cold. "Unless you want your friend to get stupefied at close range."
James almost laughs, looking over at her raised wand.
"You gonna hex me Evans?"
She doesn't even blink. "Absolutely. Now put him down."
He holds her gaze, unwavering green eyes boring into his. Part of him wants to push her, too see if she really means it. But then, one look at her is all he needs to know that she does.
"Well, Snivellus, aren't you lucky the pretty girl came to your rescue," he announces coldly, a smile on his face that feels sharp. "Ever the gentleman, always letting a woman to fight your battles for you," there's more snickering from the surrounding crowd.
He watches Snape's face contort with rage and embarrassment and he thinks that this might actually be better than taking his trousers off.
And then.
"I don't need a filthy mudblood to defend me."
He's not entirely certain what happens next. Everything goes a bit hazy. He knows he drops his wand, and Snape along with it, and then he's on top of him, driving his fist into his ugly face. He's not thinking. Not really. It's all feeling. Pouring out of him and into Snape's bleeding mouth. The violence feels good. All that anxiety and fear finally finding the outlet its been craving. For a moment he can't remember why he ever wanted to be better than this.
And then he's thrown back—magic. He lands on his back a few paces away, the air knocked from his lungs. He sits up, trying to get on his feet again, but finds a wand in is face.
"Don't," Lily says through clenched teeth.
"You heard what he said—what he called you," James says indignantly.
But Lily only shakes her head. "Don't you dare use me as an excuse James Potter," it's the break in her voice that catches his attention, and suddenly he can see the wetness in her eyes. "Don't you fucking dare."
She waits a moment longer before sliding her wand back up her sleeve and turning away, James sees Mary and Marlene hovering in the background, concerned looks on their faces as she walks right by them. Snape, of course, is gone. James suddenly feels exhausted.
"Christ, Prongs, are you alright?" Sirius comes up beside him and James lets out a breath that might be a laugh, bringing his hands up to his face. Needing a minute.
He tries to think of this morning—to remember how it had felt, to hear Regulus laugh, to see him smiling in the sun, the warmth of his hands, his mouth. And suddenly he wants him. Just to feel his touch, to hear his voice. He could tell Reg, he thinks, all the terrible thoughts he's had. The weak thoughts. And he'd understand.
Just not my mum.
Please not my mum.
Anyone but my mum.
Regulus doesn't need him to be better. To be stronger. He doesn't know why that suddenly makes his chest feel too tight. He just wants to be back in their room. Just wants to lie next to him in bed and listen to him talk about gods and mortals and a love that can't be stopped by violence and war and death.
"James—"
"Potter?"
James's head snaps up as Frank walks towards them, he falters for a moment, taking in the state of James and seemingly deciding not to comment. He nods his head back towards the castle. "It's your turn."
"Oh thank god," James breathes, scrambling to his feet. He's barely taken five steps before something pulls him back.
"Sirius?" his friend is still kneeling in the grass. "Coming?"
He sees it—the surprise, followed quickly by gratitude. Sirius nods, quickly jogging up to him and causing Frank to arch his brow.
"It's supposed to just be family."
"He is family," James says, in a voice that has Frank raising his hands in surrender.
"Hey, don't shoot the messenger."
James doesn't bother responding, walking so fast he's practically running into the building.
"She's going to be okay," Sirius murmurs bedside him. James only nods, no longer able to muster a response.
He feels like his insides are tearing themselves apart. He thinks about the letter he sent this morning, about how inadequate it was. All the things he needs to tell her. Needs her to know.
"Mr. Potter," McGonagall barely even blinks when he storms into her office, Sirius at his side. "Mr. Black."
She's sitting at her desk, the fire burning next to her and he sees—
"Dad," his voice catches in his throat. It's just him.
No.
No. no. no.
He feels Sirius wrap his hand around his arm and squeeze.
"Dad where—"
"James!" his mother is pushing into view, sounding slightly breathless. "Sorry, I just went to turn the kettle off," she smiles and he feels his legs almost give out, thank merlin for Sirius who is probably the only reason he doesn't collapse right then and there.
"Mum," his voice is weak as they stumble forward, both of them getting on their hands and knees by the fire. "You're okay."
She looks confused. "I am, of course I am."
"You said—in your letter—you said you were going to Diagon Alley."
And suddenly her eyes grow wide. "Oh darling, no—not—not today."
James is feeling so many things right now that all that comes out of him is a wet sounding laugh.
"I'm so sorry," she says. "Merlin that must have been terrible for you."
He shakes his head. "I'm just glad you're okay. I love you. I love you both so much. I'm sorry I don't say that enough."
"Gosh James," his dad says, running a hand through his hair in a way that is nearly identical to his son. "Don't make me cry in front of Minerva, she'll lose all respect for me."
"Never Fleamont," comes McGonagall's voice from behind them.
"Sirius? You alright honey?"
James looks beside himself to find his best friend with wet eyes.
"Yeah, yeah I'm just glad you guys are okay."
James realizes for the first time how scared Sirius has been, and how he buried it so that he could be strong for James. He swears his heart swells so much it nearly breaks his ribs.
"Oh well, now you've gone and done it," Fleamont says as he pulls off his glasses to wipe his eyes.
"Oi! How come he's the one who makes you cry?" James demands.
"I like him better than you."
And that has them all laughing. James feels himself take a proper breath for the first time since he heard Dumbledore's booming voice. Looking at the people he loves, smiling and crying and safe, he thinks;
Okay.
Okay.
Maybe we'll be okay.
Maybe we'll make it through this.