Chapter Text
February 15th, 1977
Regulus finds himself face to face with the gargoyles that guard Dumbledore’s office. He stares at them, too detached to feel the typical annoyance that he would. Raising an unimpressed brow, he thinks briefly about the sweets he’s seen on the headmaster’s desk.
“Sherbert Lemon?”
“Not quite,” One of the gargoyles snickers.
“Do you have an appointment?” The other asks.
“Fizzing Whizbees?”
“If you want to speak to the headmaster you’ll have to make an appointment,” The second gargoyle tells him.
Regulus doesn’t respond. He stands, face impassive, wracking his brain for another sweet he can name. He doesn’t have time to wait for an appointment with Dumbledore. He hasn’t heard from him since he first told him of the raid, despite assurances that he would.
“Peppermint toads?”
Begrudgingly, the gargoyles step aside. Regulus sweeps forward, taking the spiraling staircase to Dumbledore’s office two steps at a time. Without knocking, he enters the study. Dumbledore is at his desk, seemingly waiting for him.
“Regulus,” Dumbledore nods in greeting. “I wasn’t expecting you. Did we have an appointment?”
“No, we did not.” Regulus sits in the chair opposite the headmaster. “I don’t have time for niceties tonight.”
Dumbledore raises his eyebrows. “The floor is yours, Regulus.”
Regulus takes a measured breath, staring at Dumbledore. The twinkle in his eyes is threatening Regulus’ hold on his emotions. He works to keep the irritation in the back of his mind from boiling over into his words. “My brother is not to be informed of the progress of my task from this point forward. I do not want him involved in any way. If he asks questions about me or what I’m doing, you will not answer them. He will be kept in the dark about all of it.”
If Dumbledore is surprised by this, he doesn’t let it show. “I heard about your…disagreement with Sirius at the Slug Club party. You garnered quite the audience.”
“That wasn’t intentional,” Regulus dismisses. “It just happened. He’s a fool. He forgot himself.”
“Ah,” Dumbledore sighs. He takes off his glasses. “I had assumed that it was planned.”
“I would never stage such a public scene,” Regulus sneers. “It was pathetic.”
Dumbledore nods. He lets the silence before them stew. Regulus doesn’t take the bait to speak further.
“Tell me, Regulus,” Dumbledore says, finally, “You don’t wish for Sirius to be updated on your task. What of the others who know? I’m aware, despite my recommendations, that others know what you are planning to do.”
“No one can be updated,” Regulus responds immediately. “James is not to be updated either. I want them separated from all of it.”
“And what of Mr. Lupin?” Dumbledore questions, peering at Regulus. “You saved his parent’s lives just two days ago. You don’t wish for him to know this?”
Regulus hesitates. He’d almost forgotten about that, in the wake of his conversation with James. “No, I don’t want you to tell him. If his parents share that with him, that’s up to them. I would think you would discourage it, for my safety and loyalty's sake.”
Dumbledore hums, nodding thoughtfully. “No one is aware you did this?”
“Barty and Evan know,” Regulus tells him. “And James. James knows.”
“James.” Dumbledore repeats. “You don’t think that James will tell his friends of the noble act that you carried out?”
“It wasn’t noble,” Regulus argues. He hadn’t told James with the intention of him relaying the information to Sirius and Remus. He’d done it because in the moment, in front of James, he was weak. He gave away too much. “Not in the slightest.”
“What would you call it, if not a noble act?” Dumbledore asks. “You saved two lives, Regulus.”
“I tortured a woman,” Regulus hisses, leaning forward. He remembers himself, and the promise he made to put his emotions away until this is over. He straightens. “I didn’t think it was necessary to kill a magical family to cement my place amongst the Death Eaters.”
“Hope Lupin is a Muggle,” Dumbledore tells him. “Surely, she would have been a worthy target if magical blood is what you’re considering in all of this?’
“It wasn’t a noble act,” Regulus grits out. “I didn’t do it for their sake.”
“Was it for your own?”
“What does it matter?” Regulus counters.
“I think it matters quite a bit, Regulus,” Dumbledore murmurs. “You may not have done it for Lyall and Hope Lupin, or yourself, but you did it for your brother, did you not? For James? Maybe, if you look within yourself, you’ll even find that you did it for Remus.”
“It doesn’t matter why I did it,” Regulus shakes his head. “Nothing like that will happen again when in the presence of others on the Dark Lord’s side.”
Dumbledore surveys him and as much as Regulus wants to look away, he doesn’t. He stares back at the headmaster and feels the anger he’s been harbouring toward the old man since the day he came to Potter Cottage all those months ago. He wonders what Dumbledore sees when he looks at him. What does he assume about Regulus? Does he think that Regulus has been successful in his task so far? There’s so much that he hasn’t shared with the headmaster. He has no idea about the watch or the details of his conversations with the other Slytherins. He doesn’t even know the details of the raid. He never asks. Regulus isn’t sure how much he would share, even if he did.
“I would have thought you’d inform Sirius and James of your progress yourself,” Dumbledore murmurs, eventually. “You chose to tell them about your task. Do you regret your decision?”
“Yes,” Regulus answers honestly. “It’s too dangerous. For all of us. I have to maintain focus.” He hesitates. “I’m cutting contact with them until this ends.”
Dumbledore looks at him and he swears he can see the headmaster’s lips twitch. In the silence, I told you so, echoes, unspoken.
“James told me today that he’s joined the Order,” Regulus remembers suddenly. “Care to explain that?”
“I believe joining the Order is a better way of saying it,” Dumbledore murmurs. “He has not officially joined just yet. He is not of age.”
“He will be,” Regulus snaps. “In just weeks, he’ll be of age. So what, then he can join?”
“He’ll be an adult. He can make that decision for himself when the time comes.”
“Don’t feign naivety,” Regulus laughs, humourlessly, “Seventeen is no more of an adult than I am. Tell me, how is it you so guiltlessly recruit children for this war? Was one child soldier not enough for you?”
Regulus had hoped to goad Dumbledore into a reaction with that last comment, but he was unsuccessful. “You misunderstand my intentions, Regulus. This is for the greater good.”
“The greater good,” Regulus laughs again. “That’s not what I’m doing this for. I’m doing this for them.”
“Love is a powerful motivator, necessary even, but we cannot forget ourselves in using it.” Dumbledore raises an eyebrow. “This war impacts others aside from ourselves and the ones we love.”
“I don't care about anyone else,” Regulus grumbles. “I care about them. If they’re harmed because of your foolish decision I’ll stop all of this. I’ll ruin your sting operation as soon as I hear there’s been so much as a hair displaced on my brother’s head. If any of them—” He swallows thickly. “If any of them die, you’ll regret the day you brought me into all of this.”
“We are nothing without our free will,” Dumbledore says, irritatingly unaffected by Regulus’ threats. “That goes for you and those you care about. Do you wish to hold them back from supporting a cause they believe in?”
“Yes, if there’s any chance they’ll be harmed in the process, you daft old man,” Regulus hisses. He stands suddenly, the force of it threatening to send his chair toppling backward. “I mean it, if anything happens to any of them, I’m done. You’ll have to find someone else to be your martyr.”
“Regulus,” Dumbledore calls out. Regulus pauses, his hand hovering above the doorknob to exit the study. “There is a werewolf in the Forbidden Forest. I’d limit your time spent there.”
“Is that all?” Regulus looks over his shoulder, keeping his face still.
“My sources tell me that your cousin has been partially responsible for bringing them in as allies to Voldemort. I’ll need you to retrieve information from her when you return home.”
“Who?”
“Bellatrix Lestrange,” Dumbledore furrows his eyebrows. “Who else would I speak of?”
A flash of blonde hair. Grey eyes. Soft hands and soothing words as he whimpered on the drawing room floor.
“No one.”
Regulus slams the door behind him, taking measured breaths as he hurries down the spiral staircase. He’s not sure how it’s possible, but everything seems to be playing out even worse than he imagined.
—
James isn’t sure how much time passed before he got up from his place on the floor in the Come-and-Go room and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He doesn’t even remember the walk back, if he’s honest. It was like the auto-pilot setting took over. He’s still stuck on that, hardly aware of his surroundings, when he comes through the portrait hole and is suddenly met with a colliding force.
“James,” Sirius breathes. He grabs hold of James’ arms, looking at him. “You’ve been gone for hours. How’d you get back this late? Where’s the cloak?”
“Regulus has it,” James murmurs. He’d forgotten about that. He’ll have to get that back at some point.
Sirius looks over his shoulder, clearly checking to see if anyone heard him. No one else is around this late, though. It’s long past curfew. He forgot about that too, in the moment. That no one is supposed to know that he’s in contact with Regulus. Sirius lowers his voice, his brows furrowed. “Regulus has it? For how long?”
“‘Dunno,” James responds.
“James, are you okay?” Sirius asks. He looks concerned, James notices. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He studies James again. “Have you—have you been crying?”
“Yeah,” James nods. His eyebrows pull together. “It’s over. He said it’s done.”
“He what?” Sirius questions. “James, who said that? What’s over?”
“Me and Regulus,” James whispers, finally meeting Sirius’ eyes. The shape is the same as Regulus’, but the color isn’t. Sirius has blue eyes. They’re a pretty, deep blue. James has always wished he had coloured eyes like that.
Sirius’ face falls. “What? Why would he do that?”
James shakes his head, the lump in his throat constricting. He can’t speak. Can’t admit it was his fault, that it happened today. It wouldn’t have happened today, if it wasn’t for James’ foolish wants for transparency.
“James,” Sirius pleads. “Answer me, please. Why would he say that?”
“He said it’s too dangerous,” James croaks out. “He said he was going to wait a bit longer to end it, but I went and ruined it all.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him we were joining the Order.”
Sirius’ expression changes then, understanding washing over his face. He shakes his head resolutely. “No, we can fix this. I can make him understand. I’ll talk to him and then—”
“It’s done,” James says, quietly. “I can tell that he meant it. I don’t know what it means for you and him, but for me, it’s done.”
“Don’t say that,” Sirius murmurs, sadly. “He loves you. I’m sure he was just angry in the moment. He’ll get over it, he’s always been a dramatic little git.”
“He told me to tell Dumbledore I wouldn’t do it,” James laughs, hollowly. “He wanted me to tell him I was going to be a Quidditch player instead.”
Sirius’ face sags. “What did you say to that?”
“I told him there was no chance,” James mutters. “When I said that…something shifted. It was like he just didn’t care anymore. There was no big reaction. He just said okay. He said I made my choice and he made his. He said it was done and he left.”
“James,” Sirius whispers. He pulls him into a hug, holding him tightly, and James lets him, the tears flow down his face again. He lets them fall, too.
There have been so many moments over the past six months where James has tried to understand how he got there. He’s attempted to track the trajectory of his fate and highlight the moments that made the current state of his life a reality. He’s now come to the conclusion that he can’t do that—it’s not a logical or identifiable series of events. Fate does as it pleases and without warning. Still, a part of him liked to believe that there was something—some otherworldly, distinctly pre-destined thread attaching himself and Regulus together. It had been culminating for his entire life, he thought, and he had been following the invisible string until it reached him in August.
He really believed it, too. A part of him thought it was like something you’d read in a story. A love story for the ages, he’d laugh to himself. Maybe even something as childish as the idea of soulmates had crossed his mind more than once. Only now, he’s left feeling like a fool, because even if that thread of fate was real, it’s been severed and he’s left scrambling to reconnect it.
He wants the trajectory to continue. He wants the love story to unfold. Fate has other plans.
Sirius squeezes him tight, tethering James to something real. He squeezes him back, desperate to remain grounded.
—
Regulus is grateful for the solace that Occlumency gives him, even if he’s aware of the fact that it’s not genuine. One day, when all of this is past him, the things he’s pushed to the back of his mind will come crashing down like a tidal wave. When they do, he’s going to drown in them. He hopes it kills him when it happens.
He told Barty and Evan that it was over between him and James once he returned to the dormitory. His face was blank and his voice was steady as he did so. Not even the looks of confusion and pity on their faces brought his emotions forward. He told them, asked them not to speak to James anymore, and got ready for bed. He took a dreamless sleep potion before lying down. Dreams allow us to enter a world of our own, someone had said once. Regulus knows what waits for him if he were to close his eyes and allow sleep to take him naturally. Whether it’s screams and fire or black-rimmed glasses and gentle words, he knows better than to face it.
He tells Dorcas.
He tells Pandora.
Then, there’s no one else to tell. No one else to object or question his choices. He doesn’t explain anything to them. It’s done. Don’t speak to him anymore, he says, especially not about me. It’s a script.
By the time he tells Pandora—the last one to be informed—he’s got it memorized. He’s not expecting her to grab his wrist and look deep into his eyes when he does.
“Pay close attention to the watch, Regulus,” Pandora whispers, her eyes wide. “Listen to it, even if you want to keep others safe. There will come a time when you’ll have to be self-sacrificing for all of this work. Promise me that you will be.”
Regulus looks at her small, pale hand clasped around his wrist. Slowly, he raises his eyes back to hers. Even through the never-ending fog he’s placed himself in, he can see it. The fire in her gaze.
“I promise.”
—
Sirius tries to talk to him six times before Regulus loses control.
The first time, it’s futile. He’s with Barty and Evan, walking to class and Sirius calls out to him. Regulus ignores him with ease.
The second and third times are much the same, except Sirius is more persistent. He follows after them. Speaking quickly as he jogs to keep up with them. Finally, Barty tells him to f*ck off. Regulus doesn’t acknowledge him at all.
The fourth time, Sirius gets bolder. He approaches Regulus when he’s with Parkinson and Mulciber.
Still, Regulus doesn’t acknowledge Sirius when he attempts to speak to him. Parkinson sends a hex at him, slicing his cheek. Regulus turns then, looking at his brother. Blood trickles from the wound. He looks back to Parkinson. It’s too late to stop him, but he’ll remember that.
The fifth time, Regulus walks into the trap. Sirius is talking with Dorcas outside the Slytherin common room, their voices hushed and hurried. He spots them, immediately turns on his heel, and walks away. Sirius calls out for him again, but he ignores him as he casts a disillusionment charm on himself and fades out of view, hiding behind a tapestry.
The sixth time, Regulus is in the Astronomy tower. It’s late and the weather is particularly crisp tonight. It’s been a brutal winter.
For once, he lets his Occlumency walls lower. Not totally, but just a bit. He sighs, leaning against the railing as he stares up at the night sky. It’s clear, so he can see his star. The constellation of Leo is most visible this time of year. Sirius twinkles, as bright and present as usual. Orion’s highest visibility overlaps with Regulus, so he studies that as well. They’re all together up there.
Weeks have passed since he broke up with James. He hasn’t allowed himself to think about it very much, honestly. Even now, when he lets his Occlumency waver, he never leaves that part of his mind unguarded.
If he lets his mind wander, without really uncovering how he feels about it, he’s surprised that James hasn’t attempted to talk to him since then. If he didn’t have his emotions under lock and key the way he does, it might hurt his feelings a bit that James hasn’t tried to get him back. It makes sense though, Regulus thinks. James has always been far too good for him. Regulus never deserved the time he had with him. James has probably managed to realize that by now. In a way, he’s sparing Regulus from acknowledging the truth of their relationship by not speaking to him about it further. He doesn’t need to hear about James’ regrets over their relationship. Doesn’t need it spelled out for him, what a mistake it was. He might have tried to stop Regulus in the moment, but even if he had been successful, Regulus is sure that James would have ended things shortly after anyway, once he came to his senses about everything Regulus has done and is yet to do.
He sighs again, shaking his head as if to clear it. He looks up at the sky. Sirius twinkles brighter, taunting him. Easter break is weeks away. Another step closer to all of this being over.
“Thinking about me?”
Regulus jumps, cursing to himself. He turns and narrows his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Sirius shrugs, casually. “Just wanted to talk to you.”
Regulus huffs, looking back out at the sky. “Too bad. Go away.”
“Do you have to be so petulant?”
“Me?” Regulus scoffs. “Are you actually calling me petulant?” He glances at Sirius out of the corner of his eyes. “Why do you care about how I act?”
“Because I’m your brother,” Sirius states like that explains everything, and it does, doesn’t it? He comes and joins Regulus at the railing. Out of the corner of his eye, Regulus can see that Sirius is staring up at the stars as well. He has a wistful look on his face. “I’ve always hated that I can only see your star while we’re at school. I’d prefer if it was visible in the summer when I don’t usually have the chance to be around you.”
“Well, not all of us are named after the brightest star in the sky,” Regulus grumbles, ignoring the way his throat feels tighter. “Some of us don’t want to be seen all of the time.”
Sirius laughs under his breath. “Yeah, you’ve always preferred to hide away, haven’t you?”
Regulus doesn’t respond. Sometimes he hates that there are people, like Sirius, who know him so well. He wishes he could pass by undetected and unknown. It’s always intimidated him, the idea of being really and truly known by someone else. There aren’t many people who can say they know Regulus fully, but Sirius is one of them. He understands Regulus and his motivations on an entirely different level than others, even in comparison to his friends and James. Sirius saw him grow up. Sirius raised him, in a lot of ways.
“James is miserable,” Sirius says, eventually.
Again, Regulus doesnt respond. He’s not interested in explaining things to Sirius. Surely, he must understand why Regulus did it. Even if he doesn’t understand, he has to know why he did it.
“He said it was because of the Order,” Sirius continues. “Reggie, you can’t expect him to stay out of it.”
“Yes, I can,” Regulus snaps. He wants to manage his temper, but the irritation in his voice doesn’t come across as cool indifference. He sounds petulant, just like Sirius said. Like a child being forced to share his toys. “We spoke about this at length. He knew how I felt about him being involved. He did it anyway.”
“He wants to help.”
“It’s not helping,” Regulus denies. He looks at Sirius then, outraged. “Surely, you know that. It’s a death wish.”
“C’mon, Reg, think about it,” Sirius says, gently. He looks back at Regulus, his eyes flitting across his face, studying him. “It’s the Order. He’ll be fine. Dumbledore won’t let us do anything stupid.”
Regulus laughs, mirthlessly. “How can you even begin to believe that, Sirius? Do you really believe that Dumbledore will keep either of you safe? Have you forgotten the situation he put me in?”
Sirius pales, as if he didn’t draw the comparison until Regulus brought it up. In all honesty, he and Sirius haven’t spoken much about what it is Regulus has to do, aside from a few times here and there. Deep down, he knows Sirius cares about him and his safety, but right now, it’s hard to believe. With each day that Regulus becomes further entrenched in all of this, the less he believes he’ll be around to see the benefits of his task’s completion. The thought must have crossed Sirius’ mind as well. How could it not?
“And you,” Regulus hisses, shoving Sirius. “How could you do that to me? Agree to join the Order?”
Sirius stumbles sideways, clearly caught off guard by Regulus’ attack. “I want to help too, Regulus. You can’t be the only one trying to end this.”
“Yes, I can!” Regulus cries out. He’s breathing heavily now. He hasn’t allowed himself to think about the prospect of Sirius getting hurt without his Occlumency until this moment. With Sirius standing in front of him, it all feels like too much. “It has to be me, don’t you understand? I never would have chosen this! If there was any option for me to not risk my life for this, I wouldn’t, and neither should you!”
Sirius frowns, his brows furrowing as he watches Regulus. He rubs his bicep, where Regulus pushed him, like it actually hurts. “Yeah, Reggie, I know you never would have chosen to fight if you had the choice not to. That’s where we’re different.”
Regulus freezes. He knows what Sirius is trying to say. You’re a coward and I’m not, that’s where we’re different. His vision blurs and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. You’re selfish and I’m not, that’s where we’re different.
It’s all true, is the thing. Regulus has always been a coward. He’s always been totally and utterly selfish. He could never face his mother’s punishment, so he never stood up for what he believed in. Even when he left that night in August, he didn’t choose that. He never would have. Someone else, wiser and braver than him, made that choice for him. He didn’t even admit under Veritaserum that he didn’t want to be a Death Eater. All he confessed was that he was scared. Poor, cowardly, sniveling Regulus. Always soft. Always afraid. Always willing to allow others to make his decisions for him, even if it meant they faced punishment that he deserved.
He’s known all of this for years, so he’s not sure why it hurts so badly to hear it right now, in so few words. It stings, sharp and impossible to ignore, like a knife twisting steadily into his ribs.
Regulus straightens, standing taller. He clenches his jaw as he blinks back tears. Sirius stands across from him, his eyes nauseatingly sad. His long hair whips around his face from the wind tunnel that the Astronomy Tower attracts. Regulus stares at him, long and hard, committing this moment to memory.
“Stay the f*ck away from me, Sirius,” Regulus spits out. He pushes past his brother, knocking his shoulder against him as he goes. Rushing out the door and down the stairs, he practically runs away from him.
Sirius doesn’t object.
He doesn’t follow him.
Regulus doesn’t know why he thought he would.
—
Regulus broke up with James on February 15th, 1977.
James will turn seventeen on March 27th, 1977.
There’s been no contact between the two of them since then. He hasn’t even caught Regulus watching him in the Great Hall. When James passes him in the halls, Regulus doesn’t spare him a glance. It’s like none of it ever happened. Or maybe, it’s that none of it ever mattered to him.
The weeks since have passed in a blur, and James is only now starting to emerge from the fugue state that it left him in. In the days immediately following, he couldn’t get out of bed. He couldn’t eat. He refused to go to classes.
After a certain point, he knew he couldn’t get away with that anymore, so he started going through the motions of everything again, but it felt as though he was experiencing life from a bird’s eye view. He was watching his life happen to him, but he wasn’t feeling it happen. He ate dinner and did his homework. He went to Quidditch practice and won matches. He played chess with Pete and exchanged notes from lessons with Remus. He talked with Sirius.
February came and went, and then it was March. The first whispers of spring arrived with the new month. James saw it in the way wildflower buds started to pop up around the school grounds and in the distinct lack of frost clinging to the dormitory windows in the morning. The first signs of spring coincided with Remus’ birthday, which he seemed to be happy about. James knows he prefers the milder weather. The cold makes his hip hurt. When it was Remus' birthday, James considered telling him about Regulus and his parents, but he didn't. He will, someday, but it felt too soon. He's barely said Regulus' name since he told Sirius and Remus that the two of them broke up. He's not ready to think about him and the choices he's made.
It’s late March now, and his birthday is only days away. It falls on a Sunday this year. The boys insist that James needs to have a party, even though he doesn’t particularly want one, so that’s happening on Saturday. James isn’t looking forward to it, but he isn’t dreading it. He’ll go through the motions of it all, just like he has been with everything else. He’ll drink fire whiskey and laugh and eat cake with his friends, but he won’t feel much as he does.
He’s not trying to be miserable, even though he knows it’s palpable to those around him. It’s just that spring is fully here now, and the flowers are blooming and the grass is green again and it’s all so beautiful, but he can’t bring himself to appreciate it. Spring is meant to be enjoyed, marveled at even. It’s proof of change being a good thing. It’s a steadfast reminder that even after the most brutal of winter, life can blossom again.
Nothing is blossoming for James, though. How could it? Spring has arrived and Regulus has left.
—
March 26th, 1977
James’ birthday celebrations go exactly as he expects them to. Sirius, Remus, and Peter get the entirety of Gryffindor table to join in singing to him on Saturday morning even though his birthday isn’t until the next day.
“It’s your birthday weekend. It’s only right,” Sirius grins when James half-heartedly protests. “Besides, how could we possibly have a party for you and not sing before it?”
He receives a letter from his parents that morning, as well as gifts. They’re clearly in on Sirius’ ‘birthday weekend’ plan. They gave him chocolate frogs and fizzing whizbees, along with new Quidditch gear. When he reads the note that comes along with all of it, his heart squeezes in his chest and he misses his mum so desperately that it hurts. He wants to tell her about him and Regulus, but he doesn’t know how to. He doesn’t think she’d care about the fact that they were together. In fact, he’s rather sure that she already knew, but he doesn’t know how to go about explaining all of it without her asking questions he knows he can’t answer.
The boys seem determined to provide him with a great birthday, which he really does appreciate. Sirius and Remus know why he’s been so off recently, but Pete doesn’t. Sirius told James that he assumed James and some girl had broken up. He didn’t deny it and Peter hasn’t asked James himself, so that’s that. He’s not necessarily lying about it.
It seems that his friends’ idea of an ideal birthday for James is getting him back to their roots. So, they hit the Quidditch pitch after breakfast, which they’ve done every year since they started at Hogwarts. Sirius and Peter fly with him and Remus sits on the stands with a book, occasionally looking up to smile at them. It’s nice. James almost forgets that his heart is split in two and he’s inches away from war.
When they’re done with that, Remus strolls over to them, places his book in his bag, and smiles. “Ready for part two?”
“Part two?” James laughs.
“It’s a three-part plan,” Peter informs him. “Full agenda for the day, of course.”
“Quidditch, pranks, and the party,” Sirius says, counting them off on his fingers. “Moony?”
“I’ve got them here,” Remus nods, digging through his bag. He holds up a rather large and lumpy bag. James raises his eyebrows at him. Remus laughs, “Dung bombs.”
“A classic,” James grins, his chest warm. “Who’re the targets?”
“I mean, it’s your birthday,” Sirius shrugs. “But I reckon the Slytherins might be nice to bother.”
James feels his smile falter, but he’s quick to plaster it back on. Sirius notices though, because he always does.
“Or maybe those Ravenclaws that shoved Moony on the stairs last moon?” Sirius suggests. Remus rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. Looks like they’re not bickering on James’ birthday. Quite thoughtful of them, really.
“Sure,” James laughs. He throws his arm around Remus’ shoulders, standing taller to make it easier on him. “You know I never turn down an opportunity to defend Moony’s honour.”
How Sirius remembers exactly which Ravenclaws bumped Moony too harshly almost a month ago, James doesn’t know, but it makes it very easy to find them on the map and plant an outrageous amount of dung bombs in their path. They begin going off just as they walk past. The group of them scream, running to get away from the line of fire. Little do they know, the four boys have charmed the dung bombs to track and follow them, detonating incrementally. Their screams of disgust can be heard long after they’ve run down the opposite end of the hall.
“Merlin,” Sirius chokes, laughing as he slides back against the stone wall of the hall. “I missed this. They’re so bloody stupid.”
James is laughing so hard that his stomach hurts, and Peter is beside him, his face red and his eyes shining with tears from it all. Remus has his head in his hands and his shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.
“Thank you so much,” James heaves, trying to stop laughing and get his breath back. “This has been the best day of the year so far.”
“We live to serve you, ‘O gracious and powerful Prongs,” Sirius salutes, his eyes bright.
“Happy birthday, James,” Peter smiles. Remus raises his head to look at James, tear tracks on his freckled cheeks. He swallows harshly, still struggling not to laugh. “Happy birthday, Prongs.”
The warmth in James’ chest spreads, making it difficult for him to breathe. He can feel a lump forming in his throat and he doesn’t want to cry, and he’s not going to let himself, but the feeling is there.
It’s so easy to feel hopeless, especially when you stop reminding yourself that there’s more to live for than what you might’ve been focused on. James knows he has more to hold close than what he had with Regulus, but he’s let it consume him and as a result, he’s left the other things he loves neglected. He looks at Peter, and Sirius, and Remus, and each of their smiling faces, and it hits him. The force of his love for them, that is.
He knows his life is meaningful. It always has been, and it always will be, as long as he has people, like his best friends, who he loves and is loved by in return. That’s the unshakeable truth, even if he’s hurting otherwise.
—
The rest of the night goes by in a blur. Another round of singing at dinner in which James dutifully avoids glancing at the Slytherin table, and then Peter is not-so-secretly put in charge of keeping James away from the common room until the party starts. The two of them wander around the castle, chatting and laughing. James hasn’t spent time alone with Peter in a long time and he enjoys it. He feels guilty, not being able to be completely honest with him, but he still can’t bring himself to fill him in on the gaps. Peter keeps the conversation light and James appreciates that more than anything else that his friends have done for him today. Everything has felt so dark lately. It’s peaceful, being with someone who isn’t fully aware of the forces at play. It makes James feel like a kid again.
When he’s finally allowed back into Gryffindor Tower, he enters through the portrait hole with Pete and is greeted by a number of smiling faces, shouting his name and whooping at his arrival. There are birthday banners, floating, twinkling lights, and a giant cake designed to look like a Quidditch pitch. There’s a tiny, cartoonish James standing on it, leaning against his broom and waving to people who come up to look at the cake. He ignores the way his heart twinges when he sees it.
James does exactly as he told himself he would, and he goes through the motions of it all. He smiles and hugs people. He thanks them for gifts and well wishes. He gossips a bit with Mary. He greets Marlene and Dorcas, he’s surprised to see her here in the common room but tries his best not to let it show. He hasn’t forgotten about the conversation he accidentally witnessed between the two of them all those nights ago.
He moves on, doing his best to chat with everyone there for at least a minute or two. He talks Quidditch with Alice and Frank. He dances to the muggle music that Remus picked out. He has a good time.
He’s not lying to himself about that. He is having a good time, it’s just that there’s a dull ache in his chest, like something is missing. Something is missing and its absence is glaringly obvious to James, but it’s not like he can do anything about it. So, he continues to have a good time and he smiles at everyone, even though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I was hoping a party would take your mind off things.”
James jumps slightly, turning to face Lily, who’s sidled up next to him against the wall. She holds her drink, staring out at the crowd before turning to look at him. Her startlingly green eyes rake over his face, an unreadable expression on her face. James is reminded of his family’s New Years Eve Party, when Lily approached him similarly. She’s always managed to catch him off-guard, even after all these years that he’s known her.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” James murmurs. He doesn’t want to talk about anything.
“You’ve been moping ever since Slughorn’s party,” Lily says, lightly. “It’s not hard to pick up on.”
“Lily—”
“I’m sorry, you know,” Lily interrupts. “About Regulus, I mean.”
James frowns, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He hasn’t forgotten what Regulus said to her at Slughorn’s party. He’s sure she hasn’t either. “You shouldn’t be apologizing to me. I should be apologizing to you, or something.”
Lily shrugs, taking a sip of her drink. She narrows her eyes, thinking. “I know what it’s like for someone you care about to disappoint you. It’s hard when they end up being someone you thought they weren’t.”
James is silent. Sirius has gotten quite good at going along with people’s vocal grievances about Regulus’ change in behavior, but James still struggles with it. He wants to defend him, but he can’t, so he says nothing.
“That’s what’s happening now isn’t it?” Lily questions. “Regulus is someone you never thought he would be?”
James looks away, hesitating. Lily is prying and he knows it, but he’s had a few drinks at this point and he feels slower than usual. He doesn’t know what to say to her.
“Unless…” Lily trails off, still looking at him. “There’s something else going on and maybe Regulus isn’t the person he’s portraying himself to be.”
James snaps his gaze back to her, his heart pounding. Lily has always been too clever for her own good and James has never been good at lying. Her eyes are wide, her brow furrowed, as she stares at him, waiting for a response.
“I knew it,” Lily breathes when he doesn’t answer, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s doing something, isn’t he? Something for the war?”
“No,” James denies, but his voice comes out weak. Much weaker than he meant for.
Lily raises her eyebrows, and he can tell she doesn’t believe him. “Why are you so upset these days, if he’s not really that way? That was the only reason it took me so long to ask—I thought you must be upset about how he’s changed, but if it isn’t genuine—”
“Lily,” James cuts in, his tone harsh this time. “Drop it.”
“Are the two of you still together?” Lily asks, ignoring him.
“It’s none of your business,” James snaps. He shakes his head at her, feeling his irritation prick at his insides. “I’m going to bed.”
“James, wait, don’t go,” Lily grabs his arm and attempts to pull him back to her.
James sighs, pausing. He knows she’s not going to drop this. He’s not going to tell her everything, but he should be able to convince her to stay out of it. “If you really want to do this, we need to go up to my room, Evans.”
It’s at the exact moment that James says that—quite loudly, as he was trying to make sure he heard her above the noise of the party—that there’s a break in the music. His voice rings throughout the common room and he glances up to find almost everyone staring at him and Lily. He flushes, aware of what this looks like. It’s not just what he just said, but him blushing and Lily’s clinging form, her hand fisted in the front of his shirt. To anyone unaware of James’ situation, which is most of the people here, it would look like his seventeenth birthday finally got him what he’s been pining for for years—Lily Evans.
Remus and Sirius stare, confused looks on their faces. Peter stands beside them, looking happy for him. James casts his eyes around the room, anxiety rising, and his eyes fall on Dorcas.
She’s next to Marlene, standing extremely close, and her mouth is pressed into a thin line. She looks between James and Lily and a wrinkle forms between eyebrows. She’s displeased. Worst of all, she’s misunderstanding.
James tugs himself away from Lily, violently. “Forget it.”
He isn’t sure if anyone tries to stop him from leaving and going to his room. The blood in his ears is rushing too loudly and he can’t focus on anything but his measured breaths. He slams the door behind him.
—
Dorcas watches as James goes, her mind working quickly. Is that—Could that really be why Regulus broke up with James? He wouldn’t give any of them an explanation for what happened and Dorcas has been worried sick about him. He’s detached, even more so than before, and he seems like a ghost these days. Cold to the touch and blank-faced. His emotions never reach his eyes anymore.
She figured it had something to do with Regulus’ task, maybe the raid in particular, but not this. Sirius didn't mention anything about this when they spoke. She glances at Lily, studying her expression after James’ outburst. She looks dejected and confused, and Dorcas doesn’t know what on Earth to make of any of this.
Regulus told her about the prophecy. All of it. She knows what it means if James and Lily get together. It means that the prophecy Regulus is set out to fulfill is moot. He’ll die. They’ll die. So many people will die. She thinks she might pass out, right there in the Gryffindor common room. Is she supposed to tell Regulus about this? She doesn’t know what the f*ck to do.
“Hey,” Marlene murmurs, brushing her fingers against Dorcas’. She’s smiling softly, slightly concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Dorcas shakes her head, swallowing harshly. She grins at Marlene. “Totally fine.”
—
James rips the curtains to his bed open, flinging them aside as he takes heaving breaths. He had done so well all day. He didn’t think he was going to break like this. He goes to pull his covers back, but as he reaches forward, he freezes. There’s a package on his bed, wrapped in a silvery-blue paper. Resting on top of it is a folded piece of parchment with his full name on it. The handwriting is so painfully familiar that James thinks he might be sick. His heart pounds as he snatches it into his hands. He unfolds it, greedy for whatever is waiting for him.
There’s no note.
With shaking fingers, he unwraps the package.
Inside is his invisibility cloak. It’s been carefully folded.
This was the last link James had to Regulus. It was a means to inevitably demand his attention and initiate contact between the two of them. He was planning on asking for it back before Easter break, so he could try to check in on him before he left for Grimmauld Place.
James stands there and stares at the cloak before reaching out to touch it.
The fabric is the same its always been—silky and soft and velvety at the same time. Only now, James realizes with a gasp, which sounds more like a sob, that he can feel Regulus and his magic all over it. He fists his hands into it, desperate for more. The more he focuses, the more intensely he can feel it. Regulus’ magic is strong. He can recognize it from all the time they’ve spent together and the charmed items Regulus has given him in the past.
The magic hums in his grip, and James swears he can feel it wrap itself around his fingers and palms, holding his hand in a warm embrace.
Regulus has never wished him a happy birthday before. James supposes this will have to do.
