It's too hot for the jumper he's wearing. He keeps pulling at it, fabric itchy against his sweaty skin, making it impossible to ignore. He'd take it off but he needs something with sleeves. There's already an annoying voice in his head saying it's not enough, that somehow people will know. That his sleeve will ride up. That it'll bleed through the fabric. Slither down his arm.
"Blimey you look miserable," Evan is leaning against the pillar next to him, waiting for the train to arrive. He's got a bag of candied popcorn in his hands that he insists on eating by throwing pieces in the air and catching them with his mouth. He keeps looking over at the group of fourth year girls to the left of them to see if they're watching—they are not.
"I thought that was my role," Regulus says dryly, eyes lazily scanning the platform. "I'm the miserable one, you're the optimist."
"What does that make Barty?"
"You figure out what Barty is you let me know."
Evan laughs. His laugh is all nose—it makes him sound like a perpetual twelve year old.
"Honestly, I can't believe you came back. If I were you I'd be so fucking out of here."
His mother had tried to stop him, but eventually he'd managed to convince her that there was still some value in his education, even if it was just because it kept him closer to Dumbledore. Behind enemy lines, collecting information, etcetera, etcetera.
"Surprisingly enough," he says eventually. "I do like being educated."
Evan snorts. "That's why you're so miserable."
Regulus can't help the smirk that pulls at his mouth. "Probably."
"I'm telling you Reg, the less you know the better life is."
"Ah, the Evan Rosier life motto. When in doubt, be a fucking idiot."
They both laugh now, catching the attention of the aforementioned fourth year girls. Regulus imagines it's because of the noise and not some suddenly materializing desire, but Evan appears to be of a different opinion.
"Hey, hold this will you?" he smacks his popcorn into the middle of Regulus's chest.
"Merlin Evan, leave it."
But it's no use, his friend is already walking away, an overly exaggerated swagger in his step. Regulus rolls his eyes, leaning back against the pillar and glaring down at the popcorn in his hands. It's an unappealing blue colour that Regulus can't quite believe is edible.
His arm twinges. He's pretty sure it's just in his head. Or at least that's what he tells himself. Just like he tells himself that nothing is trapped under his skin. Nothing is squirming below the surface. Trying to get out. However much it might feel like it. He curls and flexes his fingers like that will help. Trying to think about something else.
"Hey."
The word is soft and quiet and still makes Regulus jump. Still makes him drop Evan's disgusting popcorn on the floor. Still makes his pulse race.
He turns around to find James behind him, sheepish smile on his face, eyes bright. Don't look at me like that, Regulus wants to tell him, you don't know what I've done.
He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He'd meant to be more prepared than this, meant to wrap himself in an armour of apathy and distain. He hadn't expected James to just walk up to him and—but of course, he should have. It's so like him.
He's been quiet for too long and he can see the worry start to crease James's brow. He should let it. He should turn around and walk away. He's usually better at this. At being an asshole.
"Where are they?" he asks instead.
James doesn't seem to need clarification to know he's talking about the other Marauders, gesturing over his shoulder. "Just there, I can't stay long, but, I saw you and I just..." There's that smile again, and Regulus wonders if it's too late to cut off his arm. Not that it would make a difference.
"I—"
"What the hell Reg? I told you to hold my popcorn not feed it to the bloody birds."
Regulus very briefly closes his eyes.
Fuck.
James has already gone stiff, Evan coming to an abrupt stop as he realizes who Regulus is talking to. There's a moment of surprise before an unsettling smile stretches across his face.
"Well look who it is. You just can't leave my mate here alone can you?"
"Drop it Evan," Regulus tries to nudge him away but he isn't having it, staring at James like someone's just told him it's Christmas morning—which can't be good.
"Are you referring to the time I kicked your ass?" James asks, cocky smile spreading across his face and doing unhelpful things to Regulus's chest. "Because that's one of my fondest memories."
Evan's eyes go sharp. "How's your dad Potter?"
The change is so quick it's almost frightening. The mocking humour drains from James's face, replaced by an anger that burns and Regulus can't help feeling like he's missed something.
"Cause the last time I saw him," Evan goes on, having absolutely no self-preservation instinct to speak of, "he was in a right state. Could barely walk."
And then several things click into place. Like the fact that Evan-just-be-a-fucking-idiot-Rosier spent his summer attacking Ministry employees. And that Fleamont Potter is, in fact, a Ministry employee.
"I'm going to destroy you," James growls.
"Lets hope you throw a better punch than your dad yeah?"
Things move quickly then.
Both James and Evan step forward, Regulus moving between them, one arm wrapping around Evan's chest and hauling him backwards, bracing for the impact of James's fist which had already been pulled back. It doesn't come though. What does come is the sound of a new voice.
"Woah, woah mate, hold on," Sirius says behind him.
"You piece of shit," James shouts. "You spineless pathetic fucking wanker."
"Come and get me Potter! Come and get me and we'll see if you cry just like your daddy!" Evan shouts over Regulus's shoulder.
Regulus slams him against the pillar behind them, able to turn just enough to see Sirius in a similar position with James. Their eyes meet.
"Reg," he says by way of greeting, voice slightly laboured as he continues to struggle with his best mate.
"Sirius."
"We really have to stop meeting like this."
Regulus lets out a breath of laughter before shoving Evan back again as he makes another attempt to break free.
"I'll have my people call your people," he says dryly.
"You know people?" Sirius huffs. "I'm shocked."
It almost feels natural, this back and forth. And for a minute Regulus can pretend—that they're on the same side. That they don't hate each other.
That is, until Evan's hand grabs hold of his left arm and everything goes white. Pain searing through him as he drops to his hands and knees.
That definitely wasn't in his head.
"Fuck," is the first thing he hears once the pounding in his ears clears. "Fuck Reg, I'm sorry."
Regulus's skin is burning hot, covered in sweat. He tries to breathe through it. It's not the worst pain he's ever felt, it just caught him off guard.
It will fade, his father had said to him before he left. He'd been holding Regulus's arm out in front of him, running a gentle hand over the fresh mark. Regulus hadn't known if it was the ink or the pain his father was talking about.
"What the fuck did you do to him?"
That's James. Regulus opens his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them in the first place.
"Reg?"
He looks over to see Evan crouched beside him, ignoring James completely.
Regulus shakes his head. "I'm fine," he croaks. "It's fine."
"Something happen to your arm Reg?" Sirius asks, the cold edge in his voice sending fear dripping down Regulus's spine. Of course Sirius would notice.
He makes sure to keep his expression neutral when he turns back to his brother. "Just Evan's claw like nails. You're lucky he didn't get a shot at your face Potter, your fans would never have recovered."
James looks like he can't decide whether to be worried or pissed, eyes bouncing back and forth between Regulus and Evan. But Sirius, Sirius doesn't take his eyes off of Regulus. Regulus can practically feel him trying to pick him apart, and he has to resist the urge to pull down on his sleeve.
"C'mon," Sirius finally looks away, shoving James back in the direction they came from. "Lets go Prongs, they're not worth it."
James resists for about a second, sending Regulus one last look before reluctantly allowing Sirius to haul him away.
"Yeah, you better—"
"Evan, shut the fuck up," Regulus snaps, pushing himself back to his feet. Evan gapes at him.
"I can't believe you went after Fleamont Potter," Regulus hisses, careful to make sure no one is near enough to overhear, "do you have any idea how important he is?"
"Some idea," Evan says defensively.
"And you just thought you'd rub it in his son's face did you? You could be sent to Azakaban for the rest of your fucking life."
"Says the bloke with the Dark Mark on his arm."
Regulus freezes for a second, just a second, before shoving Evan into the pillar again. Just because it feels good. "Fine, fuck it, go ahead. In fact, while you're at it, why don't you just pop up to Dumbledore's office and let him know what you've been up to all summer, huh?"
Evan glares at him. "Yes, alright, I get it. You've made your point. But it's not as though Potter has any proof does he? Besides, everyone knows Azkaban is ours these days."
Regulus feels something in his stomach squirm but he pushes it down. So what if the Death Eaters have control of Azkaban? Of the Ministry? He always knew this was how it was going to be. Always knew they would win. There's no point in caring about something that's inevitable. His eyes trail momentarily to the spot where Sirius and James disappeared and he wonders if they know—if they have any idea how lost their cause is?
"Reg?" Regulus looks up at the sound of his name, something about Evan's expression tells him he's said it a few times. "I really am sorry about..." he trails off but looks pointedly at Regulus left arm.
Regulus sighs. "Yeah Evan, I know," he's not sure why he thought he could talk any sense into Evan. He was stupid and reckless when they were kids and he's stupid and reckless now.
Regulus exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling almost comically old. "C'mon," he says eventually, "lets go find Barty, make sure we get a compartment together."
Evan arches his brow. "Don't you have to go to that swot meeting?"
Regulus groans. "Fuck. I forgot about that," he was somewhat shocked to find a Prefect badge in his school letter this summer. He's still not convinced it wasn't a mistake.
Evan snorts, the noise of the approaching train in the background. "You and Snape will have a blast I'm sure."
"We always do," he says flatly, watching the train pull into the station, all noise and smoke.
"Oh my God mum look!"
Regulus follows the voice to a particularly tiny looking first year—eyes wide, luggage nearly the same size as her. As hard as he tries, he can't remember being that young. I mean, he can remember being eleven, but not...not like that. Not the type to light up at the sight of a train. What he does remember, is thinking: what if it crashes? What if there aren't enough seats for everyone? What if I get lost? Sirius slow down. Wait for me. Wait for me. Wait.
He doesn't recognize the little girl's mother. Not a Pureblood then.
Go back, he wants to tell her, it isn't what you think. This world is full of wolves.
"Oi, look," Evan elbows him, bringing his attention forward. "There's our boy."
Through the crowd Regulus can just pick out Barty Crouch, leaning against his trunk, ankles crossed, smug look on his dark face. And just slightly behind him, a man in Ministry robes.
"His father sent one of his lackeys again I see," Regulus says as they move towards him.
"It's not like our parents are here waving us off, at least his old man cares enough to send someone."
"Yeah, but it bothers Barty more than us."
Evan rolls his eyes. "Bloody daddy issues, so predictable. The pair of you."
Regulus doesn't bother arguing.
The train is moving by the time Regulus starts making his way towards the Prefect's carriage, leaving his stuff with Evan and Barty who give him a good amount of grief for the badge now pinned to his chest. He still has no idea what Slughorn or Dumbledore were thinking giving him this thing. Maybe they want to keep a closer eye on him? Keep him out of trouble? Not that he's ever gotten into much trouble mind you, that's more Sirius's area of expertise.
There's someone standing at the door to the Prefects' carriage when Regulus gets there. He slows down, watching her bounce up and down on her tippy-toes, peering inside. He knows her, he realizes. She's the Greengrass girl—Cerci—his year.
"Deciding whether or not to go in?" he asks, causing her to jump and spin around.
She's pretty—freckles and tawny skin, with the biggest eyes he's ever seen. It all ends up making her look very deer-like.
She laughs, "Sorry, hey, hi, yeah I—" she cuts herself off, sending him a look and lowering her voice. "I have to be honest, I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm completely useless, I'm not sure what they expect me to do with this," she gestures to the pin on her robes.
Regulus smiles a little, nodding to his own. "Trust me, I understand."
She exhales, "Oh thank Merlin I'm not the only one."
He stands next to her, following her gaze through the glass door, "Who's all there?" he asks, trying to make out the blurry faces.
"Everyone—I mean, no one I know, obviously. Well, no one I know-know, like, I know OF them, but I don't know about them, and they certainly don't know about me. It's a very base level of knowing, you know?"
Regulus looks over at her. "Er—sure." He can't decide if her frazzled demeanour is endearing or annoying.
"Hey," her face lights up suddenly and she smacks his arm. "I just realized—we're partners."
Regulus arches his brow. "I don't think that's how it—"
"Honestly, I'm glad it's you," she talks over him. "You're scary, don't get me wrong, but I was worried it was going to be Parkinson," she leans in, lowering her voice and cupping her hand around her mouth. "He asked me out in third year and did not take the rejection well."
Regulus snorts despite himself, he's never liked Parkinson.
"You think I'm scary?" he can't help but ask.
She nods without hesitating. "Absolutely. Terrifying. You do this whole brooding stare thing and those eyes?" she shivers. "But hey, at least you didn't ask me out in third year and then knock over my pumpkin juice and start crying when I turned you down."
Regulus actually chokes on his laughter it comes out of him so unexpectedly. "No well," he has to stop, still trying to pull himself together. "You don't need to worry about that with me, I'm not really big on dating."
"Gosh, me neither. Sounds bloody terrible doesn't it? My mates are always on me about it, but honestly? Having a boy's tongue down their throats hasn't made any of their lives any better."
Regulus has no idea what he's meant to say to that, still fighting to maintain some level of decorum. If nothing else, this girl sure can paint a vivid picture.
She opens her mouth again, Regulus isn't sure if she has an off switch, but it's another voice that cuts across the train.
"Well, this is just pathetic."
Severus Snape makes his way towards them, looking every inch the miserable son of a bitch he always does. Maybe even slightly more miserable. He runs them both up and down with great distain.
"I mean really, you two? There used to be some pride in this house."
Regulus just looks back at him blankly, if there is one person he has no energy for it's Severus Snape.
"I mean, apparently Salazar Slytherin was actually a bit of a hermit who mistrusted the muggle ritual of regular bathing so I'm not sure if that's true," Cerci says, very matter of fact.
Regulus snorts. He's not sure what's funnier—the fact that Cerci has apparently memorized information about Salazar Slytherin's grooming habits, or the look on Snape's face. It really is impressive the amount of distain he's able to fit inside those beady little eyes of his.
After a stony silence Snape gestures impatiently at the door. "Go on then, surely between the two of you someone can open a door?"
Regulus rolls his eyes, sliding the door open but purposefully blocking Snape's path as he gestures for Cerci to go in first.
"After you," he says to her, which causes a smile to spread across her face.
"Oh, thank you, wow,"she slips inside, Regulus about to follow when Snape reaches out and grabs his arm—his right one, thankfully.
It still sends shocks through him though, just different ones. Memories of Lucius hauling him off the ground, grabbing his face, his hair. It's work not to flinch, not to drop Snape's gaze. He hopes the other boy can't feel him shake.
"Is it true?" Snape asks, dark eyes narrowed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Snape tightens his grip. "Don't play stupid with me Black, have you been—"
"Regulus?"
Reg looks back over his shoulder to see Cerci standing a few feet inside, eyes moving between him and Snape, brow arched in question.
"C'mon," she says eventually, nodding at the seats behind her, "we're sitting together right, partner?"
It takes Regulus a minute to realize that she's trying to save him. He blinks, turning back to Snape who seems similarly surprised, making it easy enough for Regulus to pull himself free.
"Yeah," he clears his throat, straightening out his robes. "Yeah, coming."
"Regulus—"
But Reg has already turned his back on Snape, Cerci smiling as he falls into step beside her.
"Thanks," he says softly.
She looks over at him and winks.
Regulus doesn't know the Head Boy and Girl, neither of them are from Slytherin, and both are far too perky for his liking. Far too excited about scheduling.
"Professor McGonagall has said she wants patrol teams to be more mixed this year," the boy—blond haired and blue eyed—is smiling.
"That means that you won't just be running patrols with your housemates," he goes on, a collective groan emanating from the carriage.
"Wow, rude," Cerci whispers beside him. "Can't split up the dream team," she nudges him playfully.
He arches his brow. "Dream team?"
"You're right. Too generic. I'll brainstorm some new names and get back to you."
Despite himself, Regulus smiles.
"The pairs for the rest of the train ride have already been decided," the Head Girl holds up a clipboard. "And the schedule for the next month will be posted in the Prefect office after the feast so make sure you stop by and write down your shifts. Missing shifts is not acceptable, okay people? Neither is being late. We plan on running a tight ship this year." Her smile is wide enough that it's starting to feel unsettling. "Okay, so for our first train shift we have...."
Not me.
Not me.
Not me.
His arm has started aching, and all he wants to do is go back to his compartment and nap to the sound of Barty and Evan's inane chatter.
"Regulus Black and Remus Lupin," she says brightly.
Regulus sighs, closing his eyes.
"Oh come on, it's not that bad. Remus is nice."
He turns to Cerci, ignoring the rest of the names the Head Girl rattles off for the remaining shifts. "You're friends with Remus Lupin?"
She shrugs. "He holds a study group sometimes."
"Of course he does."
"Okie-dokie," the Head Girl's voice cuts through the carriage again. "That's it for now, I think we have a really good group here and I'm so excited to get started. Lets have a great year everybody!" There's a smattering of half-enthused applause. It's work for Regulus not to roll his eyes.
Everyone starts getting to their feet and shuffling out the door. He can see Lupin up near the front of the carriage with Lily Evans. The sight of her makes something ugly in Regulus rear its head. He, like everyone else in the school, had a front row seat to James's obsession with her. So yeah, Regulus is jealous. Which is stupid and pointless. But unfortunately, when it comes to James Potter, Regulus is plagued with a host of stupid and pointless feelings.
"I'll see y'ah later partner," Cerci pulls him out of his thoughts as she pats his arm, heading for the door.
"You sure do get attached quick, huh? I thought I was scary?"
"Oh you are," she shoots over her shoulder. "But I happen to like scary."
He watches her go with a slightly bemused look on his face, certain he has never met a person that he understood less.
Eventually, he turns around to see Evans and Lupin making their way towards him. The carriage is still a little crowded with lingering groups of friends catching up after the summer. Which is maybe how Snape doesn't see them as he slides out of his own booth, head down, hair hanging in front of his eyes.
"Oh—" Lupin mutters as they collide, stumbling back. It's nothing really, not until Snape realizes who he's run into.
"What the hell—don't fucking touch me," he jumps back, staring at Lupin like he's done a lot more than just causally bump into him. Regulus's eyes bounce between them, trying to figure out what he's missed. But Remus just looks resigned, holding up his hands in surrender.
"You ran into me Snape."
"You should be more careful. Fucking animal—"
"OKAY," Evans steps between the pair of them, staring Snape down. "You can go now Severus."
Something complicated contorts Snape's face. "Lily—"
"Go. Now."
Behind her Lupin has gone pale, which also, in Regulus's opinion, seems like a bit of an overreaction.
There's a moment where it looks like Snape might actually fight her (a bad move on his part since Regulus is fairly certain Evans could lay him out flat), but then he steps back.
"Really picking sides these days aren't you Lily?" he says bitterly.
If he's expecting those words to wound her he must be disappointed because Evans doesn't even flinch. "Pot meet kettle," she says dryly.
"I'm just saying, you should be careful who you hang around with."
"Again, the irony of that coming from you."
Snape rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever. But I tried to warn you," he gives Lupin another scathing look before turning on his heel and booking it out of the carriage
There's a flash of something like sadness in Evan's green eyes before she turns back to Lupin. "You alright?" she asks.
He nods slowly and then, after a second, seems to wake up, eyes refocusing.
"Lily Evans, my hero," he smiles dryly.
She rolls her eyes. "Don't start."
"James would be so proud."
"Ah yes, my mission in life, please James Potter."
It's irrational, he knows it is, but part of him wants to rip James's name out of her mouth. Never let it pass her lips again.
Lupin looks like he's going to speak but stops when his eyes find Regulus over Evan's shoulder.
"Black," he says, causing the red headed girl to turn around.
"Lupin."
"Wow," Evans has a slightly mesmerized look on her face as she runs him over. "Sorry, I just—I didn't realize how much you looked like him until now."
Regulus just stares at her, straight faced. "He's taller."
"Er—" she shoots Lupin a look, clearly uncertain what to do with him. "I guess that's—"
"And funnier," Lupin supplies, nearly matching Regulus's deadpan tone. The two boys share a pointed look before Lupin breaks it to turn to Lily. "You should go, no point hanging around here longer than you have to."
"You're sure you're alright...with...everything?"
There is no doubt in Regulus's mind that he's included in that "everything."
Lupin gives her a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm alright Lils,"
"M'kay, see you later?"
Remus nods as she starts towards the door.
"Regulus," she says as she passes him.
He's slightly thrown by the use of his first name but still manages a clipped; "Evans" before she's out the door and beyond hearing. Leaving just him and Lupin.
He looks back at the older boy who sighs. "I'm supposed to show you the ropes."
A beat of silence.
"Sounds thrilling," Regulus says flatly.
Lupin gives him a dry smile. "It's only two hours, lets just...get through it."
Regulus nods in agreement, he hasn't the energy to be difficult, and by the looks of it, neither does Lupin. The older boy starts moving and Regulus follows.
"So the train's pretty straight forward," he says as they exit the carriage. "Basically you just do laps up and down, technically you're allowed to check the compartments but no one ever does—unless, you know, you hear someone being murdered or something."
"You get a lot of murder attempts on the Hogwarts Express?"
Lupin snorts. "You'd be surprised."
Regulus doubts it.
"You can dock points, but on the train that's pretty redundant since no one has any. Also, you can't take points from other Prefects."
They move to the side as a group of Hufflepuffs pass them. Two of them giggle, eyes moving from Lupin's face to the floor and back again. The third girl, apparently less shy, waves.
"Hey Remus!"
Remus smiles mildly. "Hey, good summer?"
Blush blooms across her face. "Yeah, brilliant. You?"
He shrugs. "It was alright. Can't complain. I'll see you around yeah?"
"Yeah!" she joins her friends in their giggling.
Regulus struggles not to roll his eyes as they continue along the carriage. "Hufflepuff outreach part of Prefect duties?"
Lupin huffs out a laugh. "Honestly, I have no idea who any of those people were. It's a side effect of being friends with James and Sirius." He shoots Regulus a look almost immediately after he speaks but Regulus keeps his expression blank.
"Fans you mean?"
Lupin wrinkles his nose. "I guess."
"I expect they're more thrilled about that than you are."
They keep walking, moving into the next car, passing a few more students as they go, more waving happens, though Lupin doesn't stop to talk to any of them. Eventually he speaks again, sounding the whole time like he's not sure if he's supposed to.
"I don't think James notices honestly," he sends Regulus a sidelong look. "Sirius does though. Plays it up a bit."
Regulus nods. "Makes sense."
There's an annoying tightness in his chest every time Lupin says James's name. A pain just under his ribs. Soft and aching. He finds his hand absentmindedly rubbing his sternum. He hasn't figured out how he's going to do it—how he's going to end things. What he's going to say. He could always just show him the mark he supposes. Then there'd be no need to say anything.
After a long period of silence Lupin speaks, voice quieter this time.
"James said Rosier attacked his dad," Regulus can feel Lupin's eyes on him. "Is that true?"
Fucking Evan.
It's a blessing really, that Regulus hadn't been there that night. He's not sure what he would have done—probably nothing. He probably would have stood back and watched. Added it to the list of things James is never going to forgive him for.
"I don't know what you're talking about," is the answer he gives, making sure to meet Lupin's stare when he says it, to show him the neutral expression on his face.
For a moment, he actually thinks he sees disappointment in Lupin's eyes. But then it's gone. "I'm sure James will believe you when you tell him that."
Regulus grits his teeth, annoyed that the dig actually bothers him. "You think he's gullible?"
"I think he would never lie to you, so he won't expect you to lie to him," there is an irritating stoic quality to Remus. Something unflappable. It makes Regulus want to poke him.
"What happened back there with Snape?" he asks, figuring that's a good place to start. Almost instantly he feels the older boy tense.
"We're not exactly friends," Lupin says evasively, looking out the window beside him.
It's work for Regulus not to smile.
Got you, he thinks.
"That was a little more than just not-friendly back there. That was fear."
Lupin snorts. "I'm not afraid of Severus Snape."
"No," Regulus agrees. "But he's afraid of you."
He sees it again, the jolt of tension that runs through Lupin, the clenching of his jaw.
"So afraid," Regulus goes on, "that he completely lost control in there, which he doesn't normally do in general but specifically not in front of Evans," still Lupin says nothing, watching the Scottish countryside roll by like it's the most fascinating fucking thing he's ever seen.
"He's scared of you," Regulus repeats. "And you feel bad about it."
"I don't feel bad about it," his expression is still neutral but there's a new tension in his voice that lets Regulus know he's winning.
"You do. You didn't enjoy it at all."
"Do most people enjoy being frightening?" Lupin asks, failing to keep his voice light.
"Oh come on, if he'd acted that way around my brother Sirius would have lapped up every second of it."
"Yes, well, some of us have a little more fucking humanity than Sirius bloody Black."
That actually takes Regulus by surprise. The anger. And not directed at Snape.
Sirius hurt someone, that's what James said. Someone important.
"You and my brother haven't made up then?" he finds himself asking before he can think better of it.
Lupin's eyes snap to him. "Did James tell you?" Regulus can't quite figure out his expression—fear? Anger?—it's one of those, or both. Normally he'd toy with him a bit more but he doesn't want to make things difficult for James.
"No, not really. Just that my brother messed up, that he didn't think he could forgive him."
Lupin holds his stare for a moment longer before looking away again. "Well, he's managed that last bit."
It's undeniable, the bitterness in his voice, and before Regulus can stop himself a dry laugh falls out of his mouth. Lupin sends him a look like he thinks he's lost it.
"Sorry," Regulus shakes his head. "I just didn't expect us to have anything in common."
"We have something in common?" Lupin sounds hesitant, like he's afraid of what the answer might be.
"Yeah. We're jealous."
Lupin comes to a stop near the end of the car, facing Regulus properly for the first time. "Jealous of what?"
Regulus waves his hand indistinctly in the air. "Of the two them—James and Sirius, Sirius and James—their names have practically molded into one they're said together so often. They...I don't know, make sense together. You've see it."
After a moment, Lupin nods.
"And you just know that nothing will ever matter to them as much as they matter to each other," Regulus goes on, feeling the familiar barbs of jealousy that have been there since he was ten years old. "Drives me mental."
Lupin actually laughs at that, leaning back against the wall behind him. "You know sometimes they don't even have to speak?" he swipes a hand across his face. "They'll just look at each other and it's like they know. And I want that, I want S—" but he cuts himself off. And Regulus finds himself wondering what it is that Remus Lupin wants so badly he won't say it out loud.
"I hated James for it at first," Regulus goes on after a brief pause, "for being so close to him."
Lupin arches his brow. "And now?"
"Now I hate them both. Bloody confusing honestly."
Lupin gives him an earnest smile, different entirely from every way he's looked at him before. "I know that feeling," and then, as if worried he's given something away, he wipes his expression clean, standing up a little straighter.
Regulus watches as a pair of Ravenclaws pass them, small and murmuring, arms linked. It always surprises him how young the other years look, when really there's so little space between them.
"You never told James," Lupin brings his attention back to him.
"Told him?" there are a lot of things he's never told James, though which of them Lupin knows he hasn't a clue.
"What I said to you in the hallway that day."
Regulus blinks, it hadn't really occurred to him before. "Oh. No. I didn't."
Lupin crosses his arms over his chest, giving him an appraising look. "I can't figure out why," he says eventually. "You could have used it against me."
Regulus almost laughs. "Believe it or not, I don't actually have anything against you."
"I threatened to dismember you."
Regulus shrugs. "You were protecting him. If anything I respect it."
A slightly bemused look comes across Lupin's face. "You would have come out looking the better for it, James would have been pissed at me."
That's certainly true. "It only would have upset him," he says simply.
"Still would have been in your favour."
"I don't really consider James being upset as being in my favour."
Lupin leans back, as though seeing him for the first time. "I thought..." he trails off, and then shakes his head and starts again. "I thought maybe you were just doing it to get back at Sirius."
Oh.
"That's fair," he says, though his stomach has just pulled itself into a knot. "But no. Not quite."
Lupin keeps staring at him before eventually giving up, like Regulus is a math equation he can't parcel out.
"I don't get it, really I don't, but he's mad about you," Regulus feels that knot in his stomach pull tighter. "And, as hard as it is for me to believe, I think you might actually care about him too."
More than breathing.
"Is this you giving us your blessing?" Regulus asks dryly, thankful that none of his feelings bleed into his voice.
Lupin laughs, "No, absolutely not. This is a terrible bloody idea, and, no offence, but I don't like you very much."
"The feeling is mutual."
Lupin bows his head, accepting this. "I'm just saying—" he seems to fight with the words in his mouth. "I'm just saying, I am mildly less opposed to it than I was before."
Regulus wants to tell him not to worry.
That he'll do the right thing.
For once.
That he'll put an end to this, before he hurts James too much. Before he breaks him beyond repair. It would be such a tragedy to dim James Potter's light.
But, of course, he doesn't say any of that.
He doesn't say anything.
Lupin gives him one last look before he starts walking again, throwing his next words over his shoulder:
"But God help you both when Sirius finds out."
He really wasn't going to go. Wasn't going to meet James in their room. Not tonight, not any night. It would be better that way, easier. They'd talk somewhere public. Somewhere that James couldn't make a scene. Somewhere that Regulus couldn't kiss him. Touch him. Couldn't even think about those things.
It's done.
We're done.
We never should have started.
But now we're done.
He meant to be cold and detached. Meant to be precise. A clean break. Better for the both of them. What is it people are always saying? Rip the band-aid off? Something like that. That's what Regulus was going to do.
So he doesn't know how he ends up standing inside the door of the Come and Go Room, staring at a beaming James Potter and feeling every ounce of his self-control fading away.
Stop it, he wants to shout at James, just like on the platform. Stop looking at me like that, like I mean something to you. I shouldn't. I can't. You should have known better. I tried to warn you.
"Hi," James says eventually, almost shyly.
"Hi," Regulus returns.
James is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, like an over excited puppy. No one has ever wanted Regulus like this. Honestly, he's not sure anyone has ever wanted him at all.
He feels a spark run up his left arm.
"Can I—" James holds out his hand.
No.
No.
No.
"Yeah," there's barely a breath between the word leaving his mouth and James pressing into him, pushing him back until he hits the wall behind him, James's mouth on his, hands in his hair. Under his shirt. Skating over his skin. James is everywhere, he's all consuming, he's warm and heavy and solid. Regulus is helpless against it.
He knew it would be like this. That's why he did what he did. There's no taking it back now. All he has to do is roll up his sleeve and James will leave and never look back. And James will be safe.
But Regulus doesn't roll up his sleeve.
"Sorry," James is whispering, his breath hot against Regulus's neck. "Too much?"
Yes.
"No," Regulus closes his eyes as James moves under his jaw, down to his shoulder, pushing his shirt collar out of the way, lips trailing along his clavicle.
"Tell me," James says, voice breathy, "tell me if you need—tell me to stop."
Regulus's hands sweep up James's back, strong from all the Quidditch, fingers tangling themselves in his hair. "No."
James growls and suddenly his mouth is back on Regulus's and Regulus tells himself not to think. Just this once. James picks him up, holds him against the wall.
It's too much.
It's too fast.
It shouldn't be happening at all.
Regulus knows all of that, but he does nothing to stop it. Because he wants. He wants. And maybe he can have it, just this one time. Just for this moment. After that he'll give James up. He will. He just needs a little bit more.
They end up on the bed. They kiss and kiss and kiss. Kissing James has always felt like flying to Regulus. Like it's the thing he was made to do. The only part of his life that doesn't feel like drowning.
The problem is, there's always the moment when it gets all—all messed up. All tangled in everything that came before.
He wishes it didn't.
He wishes it was simple.
Because he wants.
Sometimes he wants James so much he thinks he'll die from it.
It's too much.
It's too fast.
But maybe that's okay. Maybe it can hurt this time. Maybe it's supposed to. If it means he gets to have him. If he can pretend a little longer that he belongs to someone. And before he can think about it the words are tumbling out of his mouth—
"I think we should have sex."
"Mm," is all James says, kissing the point between his neck and his shoulder.
Stop, says the rational part of Regulus's brain, don't.
It's too much.
It's too fast.
"No, I think we should really—properly—have sex."
James stills. After all the movement—the hands and mouths and breath—it feels loud, his stillness. A few seconds pass before James pulls back, sitting up so that he's straddling Reg's hips. His face flushed, hair more mussed than usual.
"You mean..."
Regulus nods.
Too much.
Too fast.
"Yeah," Regulus swallows. "That's what I mean."
James just keeps looking at him, eyes wide, hands running through his hair. Eventually he laughs, it's a nervous sound, skittish. Regulus can see the new tension in his shoulders, in the way he holds himself.
"I can't believe I'm saying this but I—I don't think I'm ready...for...that."
And being the self-involved narcissist that he his, Regulus hadn't considered that James would say no. Hadn't considered what this would mean to him.
"Oh," is what comes out of his mouth, which is the wrong thing. He instantly sees the uncertainty flicker across James's face.
"Is that okay?" James asks, rubbing at the back of his neck the way he does when he gets nervous.
"Yes," Regulus hates his voice sometimes, how even when he tries to make it warm and soft it never seems to come out that way. There's too much Black in him. Too much of his mother.
"Yes," he tries again. "Yes it's okay. Of course it's—it was a stupid thing to ask anyway—I don't even know—" his throat is suddenly dry, anxiety building under his skin.
Too much.
Too fast.
He just wants it to go away. He just wants to be able to do this—this normal thing. He just wants to pretend for a moment that he's somebody else. Somebody that deserves to be here. But he can't. Because the memories are always there. A rotting feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Too much.
Too fast.
"Sorry," he says again, because he doesn't know what else to say.
"Hey, woah, no, don't be," James looks at him a little curiously. "Reg, you get to—you know—ask for stuff. Ask for the stuff you want."
He doesn't know why that makes something in him ache. It's too hot, it's too much. His arm is fucking killing him and he can't look at James but he also can't look away. He's so tired of feeling like this.
"Is it though?" James asks gently, breaking the silence, still looking at Regulus like he's not sure what he's seeing. "What you want, I mean? Are you—are you ready for..."
Regulus doesn't know how to answer that question.
No.
He never will be.
It will always feel like this. Because he's broken.
But he just wanted—
He just wanted—
His hands come up to his face, hiding it from view, and he must be tired, or wrecked, or something, to let the next words come out of his mouth; "I just wanted to be with you."
It's so pathetic.
So utterly pathetic.
And desperate.
And grasping.
As though sex would change anything.
Would make him feel better about walking away.
Would make him feel whole.
"Reg, hey, look at me?"
He doesn't want to. He doesn't know how to.
"Regulus."
No one says his name like James. Like it's worth something.
It's a few more seconds before he's able to let his hands fall away from his face, forcing his eyes up to meet the boy still hovering above him.
"You have me," James says softly, running a finger along Regulus's jaw that sends shivers through his whole body. "We have time."
And don't those words just feel like a knife in his side.
Regulus doesn't answer. Can't really, if he's being honest. So he lets James run his gentle fingers along the shapes of his face, his neck, his shoulders. Purposeless touches—more reassurances than anything else. They say "I'm here" but all Regulus can think is "you shouldn't be."
"I've never," James starts eventually, clearing his throat. "I've never done that before."
Regulus blinks, coming back to himself. "You mean...with a boy?"
James lets out a breath of laughter. "I mean with anyone."
It isn't that Regulus hasn't...guessed that. It's only that sometimes he still forgets. Forgets that there's the James Potter who everyone sees—this larger than life, cocky, asshole. And then there's the actual James Potter. Just a boy. A boy who loves people more than he probably should.
"But you've—" James struggles with his words. "You have?"
Regulus feels too tight. His chest. His throat. "Yes," he finally manages to say.
James nods above him. "With the—er—with the guy you were seeing before?"
"We weren't seeing each other," he's struggling to breathe. "Can—can you—" he taps on James's thigh, which by some miracle seems to be enough for him to understand.
"Oh—yeah, sorry," he slides off, Regulus sitting up, feet planting on the floor at the end of the bed. James is sitting next to him but Regulus doesn't look at him. Can't right now. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to get himself back under control. He's supposed to be better than this.
"Reg?" James says gently. Regulus doesn't know how long they've been sitting in silence.
"Yes, sorry," he pulls himself up straight, finding the posture that was beaten into him throughout his childhood. Black's don't slouch.
"Okay, you really need to stop apologizing."
Regulus isn't sure that that's true. That it ever will be. All he feels is regret. He is made of apologies.
"We don't—" James starts and stops, Regulus still can't look at him, eyes focused on the hands in his lap. James sighs and starts again. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to but...something is—something is wrong, yeah?"
Regulus lets out a dry laugh. Yeah, something's wrong.
"Is it—is it about the guy...?"
Regulus squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe this is the easiest place to start—to start showing James what's really living inside his skin. How twisted up he is.
"He was older," Regulus manages on his next exhale. He hears James shuffle closer.
"Okay," he says the word softly, and Regulus knows it's his way of letting him know that he's listening, but part of him wishes he wouldn't.
"This isn't—" Regulus's voice shakes, and he swallows, trying to centre himself. "This isn't exactly my proudest moment."
"It's okay Reg," unfazed.
It isn't.
God it isn't.
"It—I was thirteen when it—when it started."
He hears James's sharp inhale and does his best not to flinch. Pushing on with the story. "Sirius was always at yours, even before he left for good, and I was—" it's ash in his mouth, it's bitter and vile and pathetic. "I was lonely."
Regulus swallows, nails digging into his knees. "I—I liked it at first, the attention, the looks and the smiles and compliments. I didn't know," he lets out a breath, his whole body shaking. "I didn't know where it was going until it—it happened the first time."
The silence is deafening and Regulus has the intense desire to just disappear inside of himself. He could walk away, James might let him now.
I won't even have to show him my arm, he thinks ruefully.
"How long did this go on for?" James asks eventually, Regulus has never heard his voice sound like that—cold.
He doesn't want to have this conversation. He doesn't want to think about this at all. It's so much worse than he thought it'd be—dragging it all up out of the corners he's stuffed it into.
"I promise not while we've been—nothing since we've been together," he doesn't know if that's the right answer but it's the only one he has.
There's another aching pause, Regulus is about ready to crawl out of his skin. People always tell you to talk about things, he doesn't know why. It's never made him feel better. Just like he's been pulled inside-out. Exposed.
"So last summer...?" there's still something wrong with James's voice but Regulus can't make himself look at him.
"Listen, it's not—I didn't want it, but I just couldn't...see the point in making an enemy in that house. I'm not a very—" he laughs dryly. "I'm not a very brave person. Not very bold. I guess the sorting hat got that bit right."
He rests his elbows on his knees, face in his hands as he tries to breathe, tries not to look like he's falling apart. And fuck, his stupid arm really fucking hurts and he knows it's in his head. It has to be. But it keeps getting worse, keeps getting sharper. Like it's being burned into his skin all over again. He didn't scream the first time, he wonders if he will now.
"Who?" James demands, barely even a question.
"It doesn't matter."
"Who fucking—" James stops himself, and Regulus hears him take in a shaking breath. "Who was it, Regulus?"
Finally, Regulus forces himself to face him, to meet his stare. He's surprised to find James seething. Every muscle in his body looks like it's vibrating with tension, eyes on fire.
"Lucius Malfoy, he—"
"I know who he is," James cuts him off, voice like steel. "Works with my dad sometimes, he's married to your cousin."
Regulus swallows, nodding. "Yes."
They sit there, staring at one another. Regulus doesn't know where they go from here.
Nowhere, hisses the voice in his head. Exactly where you were always going.
"I'm going to kill him."
James's words are full of blades. They are barring their teeth. Not afraid of cutting you open and spilling you out. It's frightening honestly.
And of all the things Regulus could say—don't, and stop, and no—all he can think is:
"Why?"
James's face breaks for a second, the anger turning into pain and Regulus has to look down again—look away—he hates it. "Reg," James's voice is gentle.
"It's not—it doesn't matter—it's not—it isn't what you think." He clenches his teeth, trying to get a hold of the tremors in his voice.
"What I think?" James repeats slowly.
Regulus has started picking at the comforter. "I told you," he whispers, "I was lonely."
A pained noise comes from James's throat. "You were thirteen."
"Hardly a child," he repeats Narcissa's words, though he doesn't make them sound quite as convincing as she did. Something about the break in his voice, he imagines.
"Jesus Christ Regulus."
"Don't make this into something it's not."
"Something it's not? Regulus he—"
"NO."
The word comes out of him quickly and over loud. It lingers around them, like the smoke after a gunshot. And Regulus wants to go back to murderous James, to angry James, anything to get James to stop looking at him like he's an open wound.
He tries to shake it off, forcing his words to come out flat. "I didn't fight him James."
"You. Were. Thirteen."
"And then I was fourteen, it didn't make a difference. I barely even registered that anything was wrong. I let it happen, I always let it happen. So it wasn't—" but he can't finish that sentence. He's never even thought it really. It would make it all so much harder, to name the things that have happened to him.
"Always?" James asks. "What do you mean always?"
Regulus shakes his head, getting off the bed, pacing, considering just walking out the door. He should. He should have never walked in in the first place. "I mean always. With all of them—Flint and Snape and—"
"Snape?"
Oh.
Oh Regulus knows better than that. But his brain is all scattered, like a stack of papers he can't get in order, that keep slipping out of his hands.
"What the fuck did Snape do?" James is on his feet now too, that look back on his face—like he's about to kill someone with his bare hands.
"No," Regulus says, "Not—I didn't mean—" his hands run over his face and he breathes in. "He—he found out about me, about me being—" and he can't say that one either, for fear that somehow his mother might magically appear in the middle of the room. Sighing, frustrated, he pushes forward. "He used it to blackmail me—get me to do things for him—and I just let him, for years I just let him. Because that's what I do. That's who I am."
"Okay, well he's also going to die—"
"No, don't you get it?" and now he's getting angry, except it's the kind of angry where his throat is too tight and his eyes too wet. "It's me. I'm the problem. I'm the common denominator here." It comes out sounding so much more desperate than he means it to. Because he doesn't care, really, he doesn't. He knows who he is. He's always known. He grew up watching Sirius fight and stand his ground. He grew up leaving Sirius behind, to face their mother on his own while Regulus hid in his bedroom.
He knows who he is.
"Regulus," James's voice brings him back, and he has the feeling it's not the first time he's said it. "Regulus look at me?"
And so he does. It's a saying—the world stopped—but the world really does stop when he looks at James Potter. The entirety of the universe suddenly holding its breath.
"You are not the bad things that have happened to you."
"Fuck. Off."
But, of course, that doesn't stop James. "None of it was your fault Reg. None of it, I can't—I can't even—you didn't deserve it."
Regulus shakes his head, not sure how he's still standing when his legs are shaking this badly. "I did. I did. Can't you see that?" he's begging, begging for James to understand. To let him have this. Because if it was his fault than it doesn't hurt. Than he didn't lose anything, because things never could have been any different. Because no one could have saved him. And if nobody could have than it doesn't matter that nobody did. Not even Sirius.
"I deserved all of it," he's crying now, voice cutting itself up on its way out of his mouth. "I deserved it. I deserved it. I deserved it."
"Regulus," and James sounds nearly as wrecked as he does, eyes wide as he steps forward. "I'm so sorry."
He just shakes his head, he has nothing left, he's wrung out. "I deserved it," he chokes, words barely audible.
"You didn't Reg."
And he hates him, even as he stands there, arms open but not coming closer. Because he won't touch Regulus, not until he tells him it's okay. And even though every rational thought in Regulus's head screams "no" he feels himself reach out, pulling James to him, burying his face in his chest. Like coming home. Warm and safe.
"It's okay," James rests his chin on the top of Regulus's head, hands stroking slow circles on his back. "It's okay, we're going to be okay."
Regulus doesn't bother correcting him. He doesn't have the energy.
"I love you," James whispers into his hair, causing Regulus to push into him further, like he's trying to crawl inside his ribcage. "I love you so much."
"I wish you didn't."
James lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "I know," he says, squeezing Regulus tighter. "But I do, I always will."
And God, Regulus hopes that isn't true. Hopes that one day James Potter forgets all about him. That he goes on and lives his beautiful perfect life. That he isn't weighed down by everything dark and heavy that sits inside Regulus's skin. James deserves more. Deserves better than that.
You could roll up your sleeve.
You could let him go now.
It would be so easy.
Regulus's hands are twisted-up in the back of James's shirt and he pulls him closer even though there's no space between them.
"I'm gonna protect you Reg," James is whispering again.
"I don't need you to protect me," he mutters into James's chest.
"Well fuck you, I'm going to anyway."
You can't, Regulus doesn't say. You never could have. It was always too late for me. I was always a lost cause.
"Then I'll protect you back."
I'll show him the mark.
I will.
Soon.
James laughs wetly. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's how it works."
"How what works?" Regulus sniffles, only pulling away from James enough to speak.
"Being with someone."
Another blade in his side. Another ache in his arm. This boy is exhausting, always tearing down the walls that Regulus has spent years building up, that have kept him together for most of his life.
"I hate you," the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.
James sighs, kissing the top of his head. "Yeah, I know that too."