Eclipse (Chapter 24)

Harry Potter Fanfiction Set in a Non-Magical Universe

Photo by Benjamin Voros on Unsplash

24.

(TW: Mentions of suicide baiting, attempted murder, and anxiety)

Battered and exhausted, the Marauders stumble into Potter Manor, fighting to not fall over each other as they squeeze in through the door.

James is struck with a pang at realising that he has been away from home for far too long. His London flat is very cosy and very close to the homes of most of his friends — Padfoot’s most importantly — but his home, where he grew up, took his first steps, was first surrounded by safety and unconditional love, still cannot compare to the place he doesn’t even stay in all that much because he’s no good at living alone.

And — if any of the attempts on his life had been successful — he might never have stepped foot into his home again.

He blinks back the tears slightly starting to form as he breathes in the near-permanent scent of rosemary incense, which valiantly tries to drown out the whiff of his Dad’s motor oil he somehow always brings in with him from his workshop; or the familiar spices his Mum uses whenever she makes her world-class butter chicken and naan recipe for family dinners.

Stepping away from the door, he moves deeper into that house in order to let his friends pass. They make sure to take off their shoes and leave them outside — a habit Mum thoroughly drilled into them after realising she would be housing four unruly boys — now men, on a regular (lifetime) basis.

All the better not to track any of the blood or grime from the war into his home.

His parents aren’t home yet, but they will be later this evening. That gives them time to unwind from running themselves ragged for almost three hours — him and Padfoot immediately taking to the battlefield, while Moony communicated positions of their allies needing assistance and enemies lying in wait to ambush them over the comms, and Wormtail fluttered over the wounded.

Several members of the Order sustained injuries, but no losses on their side. They’ve fully adapted to wearing gas masks during the fight, in order to combat those Death Eaters who took a sick pleasure in spraying tear gas everywhere and lobbing even more destructive substances at innocent people’s homes.

James personally knocked a few of them out for the Aurors on-scene to nab, not holding much in his strikes.

Hopefully they would be locked up and charged then never seen again; instead of somehow slipping through the fingers of the law like they always did these days.

No civilian casualties. No civilians to be seen anywhere.

Before, James would just take this as the new, unusual, but highly welcome norm.

Now it just brings to mind a pair of dazzling grey eyes, and a delicate face blessed with high cheekbones and bright grin — which was never, ever aimed at him.

Slumping onto the couch, he shuts his eyes, breathing deeply. He can feel his heart thudding against his chest — whether from the battle or from its recent theft is anyone’s guess.

He hears his friends crashing beside him, and after a moment he lifts a single eyelid to take a peek — wanting to make sure his friends are alright but too bone-weary to move.

Remus is stretched out, his sandy-brown hair falling backwards as he rests his head against a cushion. Peter looks like a bug someone has flipped over on its back, with the way he’s lying still with his limbs all entwined wit in the air. He looks dead.

Sirius is nowhere to be seen.

James’ eyes spring open.

“Padfoot?” He calls out. Moony and Wormtail reluctantly stir beside him.

James hears footsteps getting closer from somewhere beneath them — surely Padfoot didn’t just make a beeline for the wine cellar immediately they stepped into the house? — then Sirius emerges into view.

He is holding a — truly astronomical amount of liquor bottles in his beefy arms. He ignores their gaping looks as he goes over and sets everything on the table, drinks sloshing about as he does so. Then he picks one up, pops it open and immediately throws it back, his throat bobbing readily.

Moony’s eye twitches.

“SIRIUS POTTER!”

James purses his lips, trying not to laugh at how much Moony’s tone perfectly echoes his Mum’s. Peter must notice it too, sitting up while and trying — and failing — not to look wary.

Padfoot plops his lips off the bottle in order to speak. “Yes, Moony?”

He sounds completely casual — in fact, he’s reaching over to grab another drink!

Remus is even more irate. He cycles through the many, many things he would love to scold his partner for, then finally settles on-

“You can’t just tell people to go die just because they don’t agree with you!”

James winces, remembering that moment in all of its heart-rending glory. He wasn’t able to see Regulus’ face, but the way he’d just stopped walking… He couldn’t have taken that well.

He wishes he could go back and undo that moment — say something better, cleverer — so that Regulus and Sirius would never come to such hurtful verbal blows.

Padfoot’s eyes flicker briefly, his expression hooded. Then he lifts the bottle and takes another long swig.

Moony rises to his feet.

“Can you hear me? What could’ve possibly been going through your mind to make you say something like that?”

He’s outraged at Sirius for practically encouraging his brother to — do what, commit suicide? That’s disturbing on many levels, no matter what his feelings are or who the target of his anger is. And he nearly got himself killed for saying that — James too, because his two idiot friends take the words ‘ride-or-die’ to the most extremely literal sense!

They could’ve both died today after almost both dying just a week ago! Didn’t they care about their lives? Doesn’t he have enough grey hairs???

“I don’t know why I said that.”

Sirius is finally looking at him, still clutching the bottle like it’s a lifeline. His voice is so…quiet.

“I’ve never wanted him to die.”

Remus’ shoulders slump, anger draining out of him like a hot air balloon. Because…that expression on Sirius’ face…

He looks lost.

He had that same look on his face in the weeks after leaving Grimmauld Place, and running away to the Potter household. Some kind of…confusion, like something had broken inside of him or right in front of his eyes, and he had no idea how to fix it.

Remus sighs heavily, cursing everything. See, this is why he can never stay mad at Sirius Potter. All it takes is one look and he starts to fold like wet paper.

Exhausted, he looks at James while gesturing towards his brother. Prongs is the Padfoot-whisperer — he always seems to know just what to say or how to act to bring Padfoot out of his funk faster than Remus ever could.

James sends Sirius a thoughtful glance. Then he sticks a hand out, beckoning him closer. Sirius’ lips twist slightly to the side, but he obediently saunters over.

James grabs one of the bottles out of his arms and clinks it against the one Padfoot is holding.

“Cheers, mate!”

Then he starts guzzling it down as well.

Remus is aghast.

Sirius gives James an odd look, but he’s clearly glad to have been spared from whatever lecture he thought Prongs was about to give him, because he relaxes against the armrest of the couch and resumes drinking more relaxedly.

See, even his shoulders are lighter! However, Remus cannot comfortably condone this method of stress relief. He crosses his arms and glares down at them while they determinedly avoid his eyes.

“U-Uh, um,” Peter pipes up nervously, “C-could I h-have one?”

Sirius glides back to the table, grabs a smaller drink, and tosses it into Peter’s awaiting arms.

“Th-thank you.” Wormtail twists the top off in an almost frantic movement, placing the drink shakily to his lips before sighing deeply. This newfound ease flees his body the moment he catches Remus’ disapproving gaze.

“I n-n-need this, Moony!” He desperately appeals. “I need it!”

“Aw, come on, Moony,” James drawls from his position of being rather shamelessly sprawled out on the couch. He wiggles his red-and-gold socked feet at him.

“Please! Join us! Become one of us! Don’t- ” hiccup “-ruin the vibes of this party!”

“And what, pray tell, are we celebrating?” Remus asks, in his trying-my-best-not-to-explode voice.

Prongs’ danger sense has been completely turned off from all the alcohol. “LIFE!” He cheers, hoisting the bottle higher in a Scottish salute.

“To being alive! That’s always worth celebrating.”

Before Remus can retort, “Yes, you’re alive, no thanks to you,” James goes on to say, “And yes, we could’ve died several times in the past few days, but we didn’t!”

“We’re all alive!” He hiccups again. “All alive, all of us, hallelujah!”

He suddenly sobers. Remus doesn’t realise just how uplifting the mood has become until James goes quiet.

Then he takes a deep breath. “And I’m sure Padfoot is very happy his brother is alive, aren’t you, Pads?” He turns to Sirius, his wild, curly hair tilting to the side.

“It’s just…taking you some time to get used to it.”

That’s a very generous way of putting it, in Remus’ opinion. The two brothers had fought like cats and dogs the entire time. Or maybe like Snakes and Lions.

Sirius doesn’t reply — simply carries on chugging away like a steam engine.

Remus squints at him. “That doesn’t mean you should tell people to go die.”

“Well, he didn’t mean it! It’s already eating at him, look how hurt he is! Look Moony!” James waves his hands around Sirius, who looks very absent of signs of life, then at the centre table filled with half of Monty’s stash.

All in all, a rather pathetic sight.

“I shouldn’t have said it,” Sirius finally speaks. “I wish I could take it back.”

He does sound sincere.

“And you will,” James says firmly. “You will try your best to do just that the moment we see — your brother again.”

Oh fuck, when are they going to cross paths again? James thinks, panic rising within him. He absolutely refuses to think in ‘if’s.

They will meet again and it will go better than the shit show that went down today. James won’t permit — nor survive — anything else.

Padfoot nods his acquiescence at Prongs’ demand, causing Remus to finally lose the last bits of his anger. He sighs, looping an arm around Sirius’ own and dragging them both to sit on the carpet.

“Give me that,” he grumbles, swiping Padfoot’s bottle. After a careful sniff, he takes a sip.

Sirius gives him a lazy smile. “That’s my Moony.”

The heat that curdles in his stomach isn’t just from the liquor. Remus blushes, looking away as Sirius wraps his arms around him and curls into his neck, letting out soft breaths.

“I really, really missed you, Moons,” Padfoot whispers, clinging to him like a limpet and looking perfectly at ease doing so. Remus sighs, raising a hand and running it through his lover’s hair.

In times like this, he truly believes that Sirius loves him. But would that — that faith — ever stick? Love could disappear — gone with a puff of air on a candle’s wick.

Just like Lyall’s did.

He looks up to see Prongs watching him carefully.

“You know, Moony,” he says tentatively, “You were out of line too.”

His eyebrows fly up, James’ words distracting him from his lover’s warm weight.

“How so?” He asks, feeling curious.

“I mean, we were all very out of line, I think. Not you, Petey,” James says to Peter who has just opened his mouth to protest. “You, I think we ought to feel very dreadful for, with the way you had no idea what you were walking into. But Moony-!” He drags himself back to the point.

“You shouldn’t have told him Regulus should be doing more! Especially not after he just told us how much he actually does!”

Peter shoots James an inquiring look, but he doesn’t notice — his focus solely on Moony.

Remus feels like he’s just made a false step.

“I…realise that wasn’t a fair thing to say…”

And really, he does realise he’s been unfair to Regulus Black for years, both in his words and his thoughts.

He used to approach the thought of Sirius’ little brother with the same black-and-white thinking his friends did — he was good back when he made Sirius grin to talk about him; then he was nothing but bad when he was sorted into Slytherin.

Now, Remus is conflicted. He can recognise that there’s depth to him — so much of it he doesn’t think he’ll ever find the edges of it. And something about that, for some reason, makes him afraid.

He tries to lock the thought back up where it came from. Even now, he still can’t stop his unfair biases.

“I — I was just trying to see if I could get him to give us — or give Dumbledore — some useful information about the Dark side that could help us with this war,” he explains, nibbling at his lower lip.

Sirius snorts beside his ear. “Yeah, ’cause we all just dream of being useful to Dumbledore.”

Remus turns to give Sirius an offended look.

“Hey! No fighting about this,” James says sternly. “Look, we all decided to join this war for our own reasons, alright? For things we believed were right, or that we couldn’t turn away from. R-Regulus…”

Even just speaking his name makes his heart palpitate. James feels strangely lightheaded.

“From what he said, he didn’t join this war for his own reasons. But- ” he hastily adds as Sirius’ face begins to sour, “He took himself out of it for his own reasons. Which is just as good — I think. That’s one less Death Eater out there planning to attack us, or innocent civilians. It’s…too bad that he doesn’t want to help us or want our help, but I think that’s just because he doesn’t trust us. None of us have really given him a reason to, so that’s on us.”

James shrugs. “If we do, maybe that will change.”

Remus expels a sigh. Prongs really is too good for this world.

“Yeah, that’s more than fair. Of course you’d defend him, even though he hates your guts.”

James splutters. “He doesn’t hate me!”

The other Marauders all turn to look at him. Sirius feels his eyebrows peak at his hairline. He doesn’t think even he is this delusional.

“He doesn’t!” James argues vehemently. “We’re just not friends right now! That doesn’t mean we can’t be somewhere down the line.”

“You truly believe that, don’t you?” Remus drawls.

“Of course!”

If there’s one thing James Potter places his absolute faith in — apart from Sirius — it’s in his unparalleled ability to make friends. He and Lily get along very well these days, despite years of her one-sided animosity. Why, he could even probably befriend Snape if he tried hard enough; or ever at all wanted to!

He realises he’s said this last part out loud as his friends all start cracking up hard — the kind of laughter that splits up the insides.

“Godric’s knickers, Prongs,” Sirius gasps out, his eyes watering, “I want some of whatever the fuck you’re drinking. Give it here!”

He reaches over and snatches the bottle from James, then starts drinking with fervour.

“I could!” James protests, his cheeks burning. “I’d just need to apologise, like a lot, and clear things up with him — then give him some…kind of gift. Something Snape-themed.”

“You are out of your fucking mind,” Sirius tells him, thoroughly amused. He also sounds a little impressed by this development.

James ignores him. “Anyways, I’m sure Regulus and I could be great friends someday.”

Friends… Yes, he could be — content — with that, at least. With Regulus giving him that same warm smile he gives Polaris, or Jack, or Anna…

Wormtail attempts to burst his bubble.

“He c-called you b-b-boring,” Peter points out, keeping a tight leash on his schadenfreude so it doesn’t leak into his voice.

James’ brows furrow. “No, he said ‘I bore him’.” He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that exchange as long as he lives — but there’s still a chance it could be replaced by better ones!

Which is why he goes on to say — “That just means I haven’t said anything interesting enough to him yet.”

Remus is staring at him like he’s remembering a very unpleasant memory. Even Sirius begins slowly pulling the bottle away from his lips.

Distracted as he is by their reactions, he doesn’t notice Wormtail shooting him a resentful glare.

“Quit crushing on my little brother, you twat,” Sirius barks, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

James balks, waving his arms about in the air like a chicken.

“I do not have a crush on your brother!” He shrilly defends.

No, he’s just fallen completely, jaw-droppingly, heart-thumpingly, knee-slappingly in love with him. And — obviously — not doing a great job at hiding it.

“Oh, really?” Sirius looks sceptical. “Because this is the same type of shit I used to hear over and over again when you were chasing after Evans’ skirts.”

“I don’t- he’s not- Look!” James is frustrated by how tongue-tied he’s getting.

He crosses his arms, glowering at his friends. “All I’m saying is we don’t need to be enemies! Regulus isn’t a bad guy, and I think we’re actually all on the same side. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it.”

If the Marauders along with the rest of the Order are fighting for a better world, Regulus is making sure that there’s still some of the world left untouched when the dust all settles. It’s definitely a team effort.

“Prongs, I really don’t think he sees it that way,” Remus states carefully. “Did you know he used to ruin our pranks back in Hogwarts?”

“He what?” Sirius demands.

“R-R-Really?” Peter asks.

James blinks at Moony, once, twice. “You’re putting me on.” He rises up so fast, grabbing Remus’ arms and getting so close in his face that he nearly jostles Sirius off him.

“Which ones?”

He looks…excited. That is pure delight shining from Prongs’ eyes.

“Errr…” Remus glances askance at Sirius for help, but his partner only straightens and lifts a curious eyebrow, clearly wanting to know as well.

“Uh, well, I’m not exactly sure how many of them there were,” He explains slowly. “Mostly the ones targeting the Slytherins, I presume. I only caught him the one time, then never again.”

Remus shakes his head, truly baffled to this day. Baby Black must be some Houdini-incarnate.

“Prongs? Er, J-James?”

Remus is feeling very nervous at the way James is taking in loud, audible breaths, his pupils dilating and his grip tightening all completely unconsciously.

“Don’t you see, Moony? Don’t you see?” James says in a frantic almost-whisper.

“Do I want to?” Remus replies, honestly afraid for his life.

He feels tears of fright starting to form behind his eyes as Prongs begins shaking him.

“That means he studied us, watched us almost constantly! He could have been trailing any one of us at any given time throughout the day!” James gushes, an manic glint in his hazel-brown eyes

Sirius snorts. “Little stalker.” Is that a hint of pride in his voice?

James barrels on. “He might know a lot more about each one of us in this room than we could ever realise!”

And he…doesn’t sound at all freaked out by this. Lord save us, Remus thinks despairingly, in-between being flung every which way like a rag doll.

However, Peter goes still at that — still unnoticed by his friends. Could it be? Does Regulus…know?

He suddenly remembers the way those freaky eyes kept finding him again and again all morning, when even his friends couldn’t tell he was there.

He begins to squirm, panicking at the possibilities.

James, on the other hand, feels like he could burst with happiness. These past few days spent with Regulus have been an test of his willpower, because before this week James would’ve honestly said that he couldn’t survive being ignored.

But Regulus doesn’t think James is just air! How many times had Regulus been looking his way in Hogwarts and James hadn’t noticed? How many times had he been close enough to touch him right before he slipped away?

James doesn’t realise he’s still shaking Moony until Padfoot finally takes mercy on his boyfriend and lifts him in a bridal carry before spiriting them across the room, putting a table between themselves and James.

“Hey, come back!”

“No, Prongs. You’re scaring me, Prongs. I’m scared,” Padfoot flatly refuses.

“But I want to know more!”

Remus, partially recovered, sends James an exasperated glance. “Prongs…please take this gently. You need help.”

James scrambles to his feet. “Just come back here for a sec!”

He starts chasing them all around the room, Sirius calmly evading him while carting Moony about like a delicate flower; Remus clutching onto him desperately for survival. At some point, Padfoot snatches the back of Wormtail’s shirt and brings him into the chase, wickedly refusing to allow him escape the madness.

Nearly half an hour later, they all collapse from exhaustion. They sprawl out on the carpet, huffing and puffing for precious oxygen.

Wormtail hits the floor in a dead faint, perilously close to passing out.

“Oh, m-my legs! Oh, my b-b-back!” He wails like an old man, having a very woeful time indeed.

Padfoot stops gasping in order to snicker at him.

“Moony,” James groans, his glasses fogged up. His eyes still haven’t lost that eerie light in them.

“I still can’t believe I never knew about this! How could you keep this from me, Moony?”

“Oh, for Godric’s sake!” Remus is completely exasperated. He’d keep silent because he was worried about Sirius’ reaction to the news; never imagining it was James’ he’d have to fear!

Time for a dose of some common sense. He sits up, pinning Prongs with a look.

“Would you still be so — fixated — on Regulus, if he was going around killing people?”

That stumps James a bit, making him finally go quiet. Remus waits as he mulls over the question, crossing his arms and praying to the higher powers that be that Prongs is busy gathering his brain cells back together.

“I think he would need a reason to do something like that.”

Oh, what vain hope!

James sits up as well and begins playing with his sleeves. “I mean, it’s still a horrible thing to do, and I would never support…doing that. But, like I said, Regulus isn’t a bad guy. He doesn’t seem like he enjoys that sort of thing, and he really hates what this war is doing to innocent people. If he does things like that,” James shrugs, “maybe he has his reasons.”

‘Maybe he has his reasons…’ Prongs is completely gone already. Because what reasons could possibly justify murder?

Right, like your friends are always so innocent in that regard. A smarmy voice rears its head.

…That was a slip-up, Remus returns. Sirius didn’t fully think about what he was doing at the time. The Marauders have never played God with people’s lives!

No, you’d just target Slytherins you don’t like enough till they start thinking about whether to take their own lives.

Remus feels his neck underneath his collar getting hot.

Well, they stopped doing all of that back in school! That has to count for something!

Remus doubts that Regulus has turned over a brand new leaf. There’s always been something in his eyes whenever Remus caught his gaze; something that told him a lethal intent lurked beneath the surface.

He remembers calling Regulus mad and him just completely shrugging it off. As if he knew he was mad and didn’t see any problem with it. Relished in it, even. Instead of keeping that side of him locked up tightly, he seems willing to unleash it at a moment’s notice.

Which makes him DANGEROUS.

Remus knows it’s something passed down in the Black family line — and Sirius shows signs of it too — but that’s a line James would never allow Sirius to cross. James stopped him back in fifth year, and James will continue keeping Sirus in check for as long as he lives…

(Sirius who, right now, does not seem very perturbed at the thought of his little brother being a murderer.)

And that girl…the one Regulus calls his sister…she seems even more willing to murder than he does. If Regulus wanted to kill someone, she would help him. If she wanted to kill someone, Regulus wouldn’t stop her…

No wait. Remus is already forgetting…he did.

Regulus is an enigma -,so infuriating in his complexity. Which lines won’t he cross, and which ones will he? Remus can’t be sure…

But what he is sure of now is that Regulus isn’t a danger to James. Which is…mollifying, at least.

The only danger to Prongs continues to be his complete and utter lack of common sense.

“Ah yes, speaking of — James Fleamont Potter.”

James looks up, wide-eyed at the sudden, icy seriousness in Remus’ tone. Good, he still has some sense left.

He pins James with his most quelling look, satisfied at seeing him swallow nervously.

“The next time someone points a gun at Sirius, I suggest you come up with a better strategy than simply jumping right in front of it!”

“M-Moony, I’m sorry.” James cups his hands together like a prayer, his eyes pleading. “My body just moved! I-I didn’t stop to think-”

“You shock me tremendously,” Remus says dryly.

“And you!” He glowers at his lover next. “Stop trying to piss off people who want to kill you!”

“I wasn’t exactly trying to piss her off!” Sirius retorts. “How the fuck was I supposed to know that crazy bint would react that way to me simply expressing my opinions? And I didn’t even mean what I said, it just slipped out that way!”

Remus gives them both such withering looks that they instantly shut up. He tries to keep his calm.

“I’m sure it can be hard,” he says slowly, “to go through life while being such instinct-driven animals.” He nods. “In fact, I can relate.”

There’s a collective wince.

“I can even respect this whole ‘same soul in two bodies thing’ you’ve both got going on. But Prongs? If you ever do that again…”

Remus takes a deep breath. James looks ready to piss himself.

“I will tell your mother.”

James’ mouth drops open, a goose-like honk exploding from him. He looks speechless.

“Moony!” Sirius is stunned by his boyfriend’s viciousness. “You might as well just dig Prongs’ grave yourself! Do you want to get him killed?”

Remus’ eye twitches. “No, I am trying to make sure Effie doesn’t end up burying both of her sons while she’s still alive! Do you know what it would do to her to lose the both of you on the same day? She might have had to experience that for herself today!”

Peter just watches, listening to them talk impassively. He doesn’t let himself imagine Prongs’ mother in pain.

He doesn’t let himself feel anything at all.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me if I have James there to back me up, and I’ll back him up as well!” Sirius argues obstinately. “That’s the kind of shit brothers do.”

He scoffs, bitterly taking another sip of alcohol. “I’m sure Reggie just stood there and watched without moving a finger, like he always does. He’s never liked violence — as if simply hiding from it will make it go away or actually change anything.”

Remus stares at Sirius for a beat. Briefly, he wonders what it would be like to be Regulus and have Sirius as a sibling. Then he remembers Lily’s contant, effusive complaints about Petunia, and thinks he might have the answer.

“Sirius, your brother stopped Polaris from killing James. He took the gun away from her.”

Padfoot blinks, halting his drinking. “The fuck you say?”

“It’s true, mate,” James confirms. “She was about to shoot me. I think I actually saw my own death,” he muses thoughtfully. “It was pretty scary.”

Peter finally feels the first stirrings of his chasm-deep anger at James’ words. How regrettable that Regulus stopped that from happening. How regrettable indeed.

Sirius is still coming to terms with this revelation. The moment James stepped in front of him, he’d thought ‘safe’. It felt okay to retreat into his head for a little while, because Jamie would take care of anything trying to harm him. Just like he’s always done.

And James did protect him. But he didn’t completely remove the threat.

No, that was Reggie.

Sirius finally allows himself to remember everything that happened today, as well as in the previous ones — Reggie finding him, sheltering him and James, finding Remus for him, meeting with Snape on nothing but ‘good faith’ even though he’s someone who could sell Reggie out to Voldemort (still might, should Sirius do something about him?), slicing open his palm to make a fucking Blood Vow to stop Snape from murdering them -

And now, apparently, protecting James.

None of these are things he’s ever thought his little brother was capable of. Not meek, mild-mannered Reggie, who he once loved then grew to hate -

No, wait, does he hate him?

…He doesn’t want him to die, so he mustn’t, right? He just wants him to pick Sirius’ side, which Reggie never does!

But Reggie protected him. Got Remus out of danger. Stopped that cow from killing James. And no one got hurt.

No one…except him.

So is he a coward, or isn’t he a coward?

Buggering hell. Sirius grasps at his skull, his tumultuous thoughts writhing around in his brain and causing him turmoil.

“Um, are you o-k-kay?”

“Give him a moment, Pete. His mind is trying to get him to process things outside of his stubborn tunnel vision,” Remus gently quiets him.

James slides closer to Sirius, bumping his shoulder with his own.

“I don’t think your brother is a coward, Padfoot,” Prongs says gently. “I think it’s pretty cool that he does what he believes in, rather than what you or any of us want him to.”

And James is being completely honest, because he’s certain one of the things Regulus believes in — like he does — is Sirius. Oh, and world peace.

With so many things in common, why wouldn’t they be friends when they finally get around to talking?

Sirius furrows his eyebrows, his jaw loosening. A series of thoughts instantly cut through the mess in his head, bringing him much-needed clarity.

Reggie protected James — which means he is on my side.

He isn’t a coward.

“Fuck, okay I was wrong about him. That’s another thing I have to apologise for,” Sirius sighs, a fresh round of self-recrimination rising within him. Christ, he really can’t do anything right by his little brother. With his luck, he’d probably bollocks-up the apology. Better save that as a problem for future-Sirius.

For now, he can do simpler things. Like get drunk.

James and Remus are discreetly high-fiving over Sirius’ head when Peter finally decides he’s had enough.

He stands, dusting away the debris from lying on the ground.

“I-I should leave.”

James glances up curiously. “Off by yourself again, Petey? You know, you really shouldn’t be going off on your own so much. We were actually talking about this earlier — how we all need to keep a closer eye on each other.”

He scoots forward, looking at Peter imploringly. “We’ve been really lucky so far that no members of the Order have gone missing, but we can’t just…expect that luck to hold, can we? These are dark times we’re living in — anything can happen, to anyone, really. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

Peter stares at him with something indecipherable in his dark-brown gaze.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Prongs.”

His friends blink, startled by the certainty and strength in his words. Idly, he wonders if he’s just given himself away. Or are they smart enough to tell…?

James bounds up, clapping him on the shoulder with a bright grin.

“That’s the spirit, Wormy!” He proceeds to ruffle Peter’s hair, messing it up.

How delightful. He was worried for fucking nothing.

He sighs, some of his aggravation slipping out.

“P-Prongs, stop touching m-my hair.”

James just snickers fondly.

“Where are you off to, anyways?” Remus asks.

So bookishly smart, their Moony. Yet so wilfully blind.

“J-Just going to v-visit my Mum. You k-know how she m-misses me.”

“Want one of us to come with you?” Sirius pipes up. He sounds bored — and really, it’s a miracle he isn’t slurring his words. But the way he raises an eyebrow and holds Peter’s gaze tells him he is serious.

Out of all of the Marauders, Peter’s relationship with Sirius is his most impactful — followed very closely by the one with James.

James, who took poor little Peter under his wing ever since they were kids — his perpetual charity case.

James, who refuses to admit he has outgrown Peter, his once best friend, and continues keeping him around like a children’s blanket that has gotten tattered.

He knew from the moment he saw James and Sirius meet on the train in their first year that he had been replaced. That he was never meant to have been by his side in the first place, or ever bestowed the title of his best friend.

James and Sirius fit, like two jigsaw puzzle pieces slotting together. Like two magnetic halves snapping into place to make a full heart. They completed each other so thoroughly that they didn’t need anyone else.

It might have been…kinder, if James had cut him loose right then. But James refused — and Peter honestly thinks it never occurred to his ex-best friend. James wouldn’t let him be, and fate was equally as unkind when they all ended up sorting into Gryffindor then sharing the same dorm.

It was torture. Peter had to watch every single step of James replacing him with front row seats. He never talked a lot when it was just himself and James, and he’d never seen the need to, because James chatted excessively enough for the both of them.

But Sirius could carry on a conversation just as strongly as James, which James surely loved because he’d never worn such a look of absolute delight on his face around Peter. He’d never had someone whose brain waves flowed the same way, whom he just clicked with.

Peter could not be that for him. He didn’t fit. He wasn’t enough.

All he could do was remain by his side, silently sidelined and feeling very sorry for himself.

In the nighttime, whilst everyone slept, Peter often found himself wide awake. It was so very new, being in a boarding school. Thoughts of what lurked in the shadows kept him up, shaking with fear and trying not to whimper but failing miserably.

He never had sleepless nights in his own house — not with his Mum’s familiar breathing interspersed with rattling coughs coming from around the corner; or the times James came for a sleepover and curled up beside him in his bed.

But his Mum wasn’t there, and James no longer felt…within reach. So Peter stayed right there on his bed, slightly shielded by his curtains, and stared into the darkness, quivering in fright all night long till he eventually passed out.

One night, that all changed when Sirius ripped back his curtains to glare at him.

“Do you have any fucking idea what the time is?” He harshly whispered, so as not to wake the others.

Peter swivelled his neck to stare at him like he was a brand new phobia.

“Well? Why the fuck are you keeping me up? What’s the matter with you?”

Padfoot’s hearing has always been incredibly sharp. Peter had looked up at those perfect, aristocratic features twisted in mild annoyance while glowering down at him, a fierce light shining behind his stormy grey eyes, and gulped.

“Th-th-there’s- there’s s-s-some th-thing-” He stammered.

“Oi, speak clearly, would you?” Sirius deadpanned. “I can’t fucking understand you.”

Peter swallowed again, throat bobbing.

“Th-there’s something in that corner!” He squeaked, too fearful to raise his voice even with the mindless terror overcoming him. “I-In the shadows!” He tried to explain.

Sirius nonchalantly turned in the direction Peter was pointing at — then just as slowly turned back to give Peter a look like he was a few teaspoons short of a cuppa.

He’d fully expected Sirius to say something futile like, “There’s nothing there, you dolt. Now stop being a bother.”

Instead, he just scrutinsed him some more with that nerve-wracking gaze, then clicked his tongue, and with a wry twist of his lips, made his way towards the corner Peter pointed at.

There, he crossed his arms and gave the frightening shadows his very best stink-eye. Peter can attest to it being very humbling indeed.

Then Sirius rolled up his sleeves, squared up and started throwing punches.

For a long second, Peter had been sure that Sirius had taken leave of his senses. Was this the famed Black family madness in action?

He watched, mouth agape as Sirius gave the shadows what Peter could only describe as a sound thrashing. Fears forgotten, he was instead filled with fascination as Sirius twirled, spun and kicked. At some point he even mimed grappling with something then throwing it to the ground and raining hefty blows down upon it -

As though he was actually fighting Peter’s demons instead of figments of his imagination.

“There,” Sirius finally grunted out, “I’ve fucked it up six ways to Sunday. If it shows its fucking face again, I’ll park my boot up its arse then too. Now go to bed!”

And Peter did, head so filled with thoughts of how Sirius had fought — so bravely, so fearlessly — that he no longer felt afraid to fall asleep with him in the room.

This — pantomime — repeated itself on nearly all of his sleepless nights. He would just be starting to whimper when Sirius would suddenly be there, drawing back his bed curtains with a long-suffering, “Where is it now?”

The one time he’d told Sirius the shadow-creature was under his bed, and he immediately took a swan-dive beneath Peter’s mattress was nothing short of comical.

Sirius’ protection extended even outside of their dorm. He and the lads got into a lot of trouble together before they officially became Marauders, but there were several times that Peter alone got late-night detention.

(Times when his mind accelerated down multiple panicking lanes all at once, speeding past red lights as his thoughts ran on nightmare fuel and combusted all of his capabilities so badly he couldn’t even put himself together enough to do his homework.)

During those nights, Filch was Thanatos; Hogwarts was Hades’ lair; and after serving his detention, Peter would wonder whether he shouldn’t just sleep there instead of braving the darkness to return to his dorm.

But then he’d open the classroom door and find Sirius waiting there — always unasked — fidgeting and tapping his feet the entire time.

“Fucking finally,” he would grumble. “Come on!” He would bark next, then start marching in the direction of the Gryffindor dorms, leaving it up to Peter to follow closely after him if he wanted to make it back safely.

Standing behind Sirius was like standing behind a beacon so bright all the shadows fled from it. Sirius would aim heated glares into the corners Peter shrunk away from, and it was eerily like the darkness would shrink away from him in return.

Sirius was the only one who knew about his fear of what lurked in the shadows during the night.

…But it was never his choice to reveal his fear to Sirius.

(And he never told Sirius about how it often took the form of the Grim Reaper — appearing to give him a heads-up right before going to take his mother away.

Even if it was the actual Grim Reaper, Peter was sure Sirius would have still tried to fight it.)

It was…advantageous that Sirius had found out and committed himself so thoroughly to scaring the shadows away — but Peter never deluded himself that Sirius took care of him any of those times for his sake.

He knows how Padfoot’s simplistic mind operates — his actions were borne from something along the lines of: ‘James has decided that you’re worth a damn, so I’ll treat you like you are till the day he changes his mind.’

He knows that, without James’ influence, Sirius would look at Peter and see someone he would rather prey on than protect.

Because he never acted in that curt, offhand manner with any of the others whenever they were in need.

Not James, who faced his countless rejections from Lily and defeats in Quidditch matches or in fights against the Slytherins with a new plan for prank or an attack — constantly bouncing back…

Not Remus, who flung himself at every available surface he could find in the Shrieking Shack whenever he was in the throes of his “Moon madness” as they called it. Who splintered his bones and ached all over yet never once complained about his pain, putting on a brave face like a soldier who knew he always had more to endure — a true martyr…

Both James and Remus had earned Sirius’ respect and undying love. He would sacrifice himself for them without a moment’s hesitation.

But he was different with Peter, and just Peter…

Who never once tried to take a swing at the shadows himself. The only Marauder who didn’t get fired up in the face of fear, or belligerently ask it for seconds.

The others were content to act like they were a smooth, running engine with complete moving parts. But Sirius always looked at him like he knew he didn’t belong. Like he wasn’t truly one of them.

It was in the thought written all over his face whenever he saved Peter from his own worst fears; in that sidelong gaze he would give him as though thinking — ‘Why must you be such a pathetic little nuisance?’

So many times, he dreamed of yelling in Sirius’ face, “If I’m inconveniencing you so much then leave me be! Let me be afraid in peace!”

But he couldn’t do it. He knew he would never mean it.

Selfishly, shamelessly, he needed Sirius to keep driving the shadows away. He needed his braver friends to keep protecting him and having his back.

It was a much better place to be than being their target.

So he clung to them desperately while resenting them in equal measure — because it was so much easier than resenting himself.

But that was all back in Hogwarts. Everything happening now — being out in the world as adults, this war — is on such a macro scale that it blows silly things like school friendships and petty rivalries completely out of the water. Peter has not stopped being disoriented by all of the changes for a single second…

Yet, his ‘friends’ have not changed. Have not stopped being brave, or believing that the whole world is theirs for the taking if they simply put themselves out there.

Sirius has not stopped trying to fight death — or looking at Peter like he is a disgrace for not doing the same.

Sirius is strong. Peter believes in this fact.

…But he is not the strongest in the entire Kingdom.

So Peter easily pulls on that pathetic facade Sirius has never once tried to look past.

“S-Sirius, you s-s-smell like an alehouse,” He points out. “No-nobody in their right mind would l-let you into a h-hospital.”

James and Remus nod their heads in agreement.

Sirius scrunches up his face slightly. “Killjoys.” There’s a slight hiccup at the end of his statement.

Remus looks at Peter. “I could come with you.”

“M-Moony, you hate hospitals.”

“Yeah,” Remus sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “I was trying to forget that fact. I could still…?”

“I could go!” James pipes up, already on his feet. “Moony, you should stay here and babysit Padfoot.”

Sirius immediately wraps his arms back around Remus tightly. “Babysit me, Moony!” He croons, batting his eyes at his boyfriend.

“Get off me, you shameless-!”

“Prongs…” Peter exhales, now feeling hollowed out. Being around them is always such an exercise in controlling his feelings — the anger, anxiety, shame, even the slightest hint of guilt — and trying not to let any of them slip out or sway him. He just wants to be away; and longs for the day that them being in his life is no longer an option.

“N-Nobody is going to grab me on the st-streets while I’m g-going to v-visit my Mum. I d-do this all the time. I’ll a-also be staying till v-visiting hours are over. Th-there’s n-no need to tag along.”

James looks ready to argue, but soon deflates towards the end of Peter’s speech.

“Fine,” he pouts, “But at least let me walk you to the door.”

Peter acquiesces. What follows is the longest five steps of his entire life.

“Hey, Petey?” James says as he steps outside and starts putting his shoes on.

Peter glances back. The beam on James’ face is so bright, so unburdened, like he’s never pictured a life where he can’t get everything he wants through sheer willpower. Every part of him remains golden, kissed only by sunshine.

“You know, if you ever need anything, for any reason, you can just ask me, right?” He tilts his head like a cocker spaniel, giving Peter a questioning look — yet his mouth is smiling as though he’s already received a positive answer.

Peter takes him in for one last time.

The thing is, James… I can also decide that you are not enough.

Peter nods slowly. “Goodbye, Prongs,” he says finally, giving his oldest friend a tight-lipped smile.

And, for the last time, he closes the door of Potter Manor.

James reaches the end of the block then stops, placing a hand on a nearby wall as he doubles over to catch his breath.

Their senseless mini-party had fizzled to a halt a while ago. Through their combined efforts, both him and Moony had finally managed to get Padfoot to stop drinking and returned Dad’s liquor back to the cellar.

Which might need a padlock in the near future.

Afterwards, they piled into Padfoot’s room, then James had left the lovebirds alone together to enjoy some private time, deciding to go for a jog around the block.

To clear his head…and to think a bit more about just how fucked he is.

Of course he fell in love with Regulus Black. Of fucking course.

Maybe his friends are right. Maybe he does have some …deep-rooted issues.

Because he can’t just fall for someone who actually fucking likes him, can he? No, it can’t just be that easy.

Before last week, he’d never spared a single thought towards Regulus Black. Now, Regulus’ name clamours through his mind like a thousand church bells ringing all at once. It echoes with every beat of his heart, every rise of his chest, and every kiss of wind on his face.

James knows he’s the type of person who loves forever. Maybe it’s something he got from his parents, who never let him go a single day without knowing how loved he is. To him, love is oxygen. He needs to feel it from someone, share it with someone, or he won’t know how to function.

His parents spoon-fed him every drop of their love without restraint as a child — and still do. He grew to expect it — demand it of people even — when he turned eleven and started living away from their roof.

And when some people didn’t instantly give him that love he demanded — people like Lily — instead of throwing a tantrum, he became…determined. For the first time in his life, James discovered what a challenge was — and what a thrill the chase could be.

A part of him had LOVED getting Lily riled up, because when she’d explode at him the fires in her eyes would match the inferno of passion raging within him. It felt like their flames would combine in a perfect chemical reaction — and he’d thought that if he kept it up, her rage and hate would eventually turn into romantic love.

But it never did…and then he’d taught himself to stop treating Lily like a toy.

It had taken a very long time, and a vast amount of self-control he never imagined he could possess.

But now — bloody hell, he’s falling in love all over again!

And Regulus is oh — so — SHINY!

He has laughter, and warmth, and fire, and frost all burning inside him!

His inner circle got the first two. Most of his fire was directed at Sirius.

It makes James feel a little jealous of his brother, to be honest.

All he got was frost. Which he doesn’t want!

…Okay, maybe he does.

Really, James wants it all.

He wants to draw out all the parts of Regulus, wants to open him up and sink into every depth there is to discover in him, wants to see if he can take it all in and swim, or drown…

(Or will he be completely devoured?)

He wants to be cheered by his laughter, warmed by his smile, burned by his anger — wants to feel his frostbite again.

He wants, he wants, he wants.

The fact that Regulus is a guy — and Sirius’ little brother at that — fails to register as very consequential at the moment. His thoughts are filled only by that familiar, overwhelming sense of longing and loving — leaving no room for anything like reason.

James wonders what it will take for his disdain to fade — what he could possibly do to make Regulus thaw. If… no, when he manages to get close, will Regulus melt? If he touches his face, will it be warm under his hands?

If he leans in and captures those lips that have been flashing through his mind for the past four hours -

Will their kiss scorch his skin raw?

James feels his breaths coming faster, now panting from an exertion that has nothing to do with exercise. His pulse speeds up, thudding at the side of his neck in tempo with his heartbeat; his temperature rising while most of the blood in his body rushes downwards.

Oh, fuck.

Get a grip! He scolds himself, yanking a rough hand through his curls. We will be friends — just FRIENDS!

He whispers this mantra over and over, pathetically pleading with his own thoughts to behave for once. Instead, as though trying to spite him, more images flash behind his eyes that make his head swim — new cravings unfurling within him like a garden of wildflowers blooming out of control. But finally, he manages to wrestle his desires back down.

With effort, he peels himself off the wall and starts jogging back home. He needs to lie down — but first, a cold shower.

Thankfully, Moony and Padfoot are probably preoccupied. He can take his time.

As his feet pound against the pavement, retracing the familiar steps back home, he frowns. There’s something…a little off about the atmosphere in his neighbourhood. Something he’s never noticed before, that certainly wasn’t there at the beginning of his run.

The air feels taut like a bowstring; nocked with an arrow and waiting to fly free.

It has James’ guard rising up. He doesn’t feel unsafe — will never feel unsafe in the area where he grew up — but he increases his pace to get back indoors faster.

He briskly jogs back up the hill to his front door — then stops. Lying in wait on his welcome mat are two thick, white folders clearly addressed to his house.

The postman couldn’t have come by in the short while he was gone.

Cautiously, James crouches down to peer at the text. The font is clearly professional, likely written with a keyboard.

‘To Lord Potter,’ one folder reads.

‘To Heir Potter,’ states the next.

A lightbulb goes off in his head. Regulus.

James picks them up, toeing off his trainers then stepping inside. He makes sure to lock his door, then turns his attention to the folder addressed to his father.

Flipping it over, he sees a wax seal on the flap — the type stamped with a signet ring. Must be the same one Regulus is always wearing. A pattern of stars brushes against his fingertip as James lightly strokes the wax.

He hears something clatter inside the folder when he shakes it, probably the tape recording Regulus mentioned. He beelines towards Dad’s office and places the package on his desk. He’ll properly explain everything to him when he comes home.

James is left holding the one addressed to him. He contemplates it, lightly chewing on his thumbnail. What could be in it? He wonders. Is there something Regulus wants from him? He did save James’ life back there…maybe James now owes him a Life Debt?

The thought is…highly enticing.

If his life is now in Regulus’ hands — the new Lord of House Black — what might he ask James to do to…serve him?

He sticks a leg out to trip that thought before it proceeds any further; then blinks hard.

Huh… Maybe Padfoot was onto something all those times he’d bug James to shag around back in Hogwarts, instead of saving himself for ‘the one.’

He places the folder on the kitchen table, downs a cold glass of water from the fridge, then bolts to his washroom to take that shower before he explodes.

James feels A LOT calmer by the time he’s done. He’s running a small towel through his hair as he descends the stairs, heading back towards the kitchen when he hears the phone ring.

Slightly shifting his trajectory, he goes to pick it up.

“Potter Residence. Hi, this is James.”

“Hello. It’s Anna speaking. We’ve met.”

His heart skips a beat. Is she calling on behalf of Regulus?

“Just letting you know that because of the security breach, we’re having your house watched.”

James nearly drops the phone. “What?”

“Your flat, Sirius’ flat, and Potter Manor are all marked as high risk,” Anna elaborates. “Any threats to these places of residence will be preemptively neutralised, so feel free to come and go as you please. Anyone inhabiting these spaces will be safe as well. We don’t have the manpower to spare to watch more places than those three, so your other acquaintances will have to figure something out for themselves.”

“My other acquaintances…” James is too dazed to take in most of what she’s saying.

“What’s the extent of this — security breach?” He asks breathily.

There’s a pause, then a tiny sigh. “Haven’t you opened the folder?”

“…Not yet.”

“Then the information will all be in there. It’s quite self-explanatory. Goodbye.”

She hangs up.

He stares at the phone for a second, then another. Security breach, his acquaintances, house being watched…

‘There’s a leak,’ he’d told Regulus — not that long ago.

His eyes widen. Shit.

He sprints to the kitchen and grabs the folder, muttering curses while internally kicking himself the entire time, then races back up the stairs. The folder he’s holding is a ticking time bomb in his hands, and he needs his friends to be there with him when it goes off.

“Be decent!” He yells at Padfoot’s door before flinging it open.

Sirius and Remus startle at his appearance. Thankfully, nothing untoward is happening — just Remus braiding Sirius’ hair while he munches on some snacks.

Padfoot immediately hones in on his distress, alarm flickering in his eyes.

“Jamie! What’s happened?”

His breathing is coming so fast.

“Anna called — house being watched — Regulus — the leak -” He’s stumbling over his words, trying to get them out a mile a minute while waving the folder in front of him like a crucifix.

Sirius is staring at him like he’s listening to an Elvish recital. After a moment, Remus gets up and — very slowly — reaches out to grab the folder from James.

“YES, THAT!” He finally takes a breath, happy to have gotten the most important point across.

“It’s from Regulus! I think he found — information — about who the leak is.”

All three of them exchange glances. Then Remus rips the seal open.

They hover above Padfoot’s bed as papers — so many of them — come spilling out from the folder. Tentatively, James picks one of them up -

And his world is immediately torn asunder.

He is looking at printouts of pictures taken from files stored in God-knows-where. The original pages look crinkled from being passed around however many times — but the flowing script filling up the white space is one he’d recognise anywhere.

And it’s everywhere.

All of the pages are filled to the brim with knowledge… that he had been freely given — been entrusted with. That’s what rips James apart the most as he stares and stares, unable to quite believe what he’s seeing…

These were all secrets shared with him.

Doubts divulged to him.

Habits known to him.

Routines he was included in.

Homes he was INVITED in!

Years worth of intel gained from bonds he formed with everybody within their social circle — that’s seven years; no, ten now; no, James has known Peter since he was five — that’s fucking fifteen!

And Peter has betrayed him.

James cracks right down the middle, splitting apart. His hand is shaking too much to hold any of this — this evidence. He slumps to the ground, huddling into himself and pressing his knees against his chest as though that might make him stop bleeding.

Moony is staring off into the distance, unseeing. Equally in as much shock as he is.

Padfoot calmly keeps looking. Methodically running his eyes down every page, placing one paper down in order to pick up the next.

James fixates on his brother, unable to look away since he’s the only one moving.

Then Sirius stills, freezing as he reaches the final page.

Curious, James rises to his feet to go look over his shoulder, a sort of masochism driving him to discover what could possibly have finally stumped Sirius.

The handwriting on this page is different, but one James also recognises…

…From a collection of thrown-away birthday cards.

__

‘Here,

I’ve solved your rat problem.

NOW EXTERMINATE IT.

Cheers,

R.A.B’

__

“…You know something, Prongs?”

Sirius’ voice is quiet. A quiet Sirius is never a good thing.

His brother lifts his eyes towards him, and there is a veritable maelstrom brewing in them — a tempest rising with howling winds and blown back tree trunks.

The words that follow sound like something he’s always wanted to get off his chest:

“I have never liked that rat bastard.”