"Bravery often demands a price."
-via Lemony Snicket
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12 Grimmauld Place, September 1979
Regulus sighed as his mother's languid, feeble palms smoothed down the fabric of his finest robes. Her eyes, now vacant and lifeless vessels, peered through him to the wall, mouth slack and movements drawn. Though her body might have displayed otherwise, her temperament was sharp; the edge of Walburga had been awoken through abstinence for a gathering she hadn't even wanted to attend, and if she'd gotten her wish, she would've returned to the drawing room where the abundance of port could wash down the bile of regret in her throat.
For a week and a half, Regulus endured the cutting remarks made by both his mother and father as they prepared themselves for a gathering put on by the newly married Malfoy's. Her niece had requested that she be sober upon attendance, and promised that such a feat would be rewarded through connections and such – things only the Malfoy's and the Black's could offer; this had interested Walburga, drunk or not, and she'd agreed.
Nine days later, and not an ounce of rum or wine or vodka within a mile, a hot rage had spread through her soul – the mother she'd once been had risen from the plagued depths of inebriation, and Regulus was at the receiving end. At one point, Regulus had considered himself thick skinned; what with his short-lived friendship with Severus and other Slytherin heirs alike, his personality had been tailored to withstand the common critical eye. A snarky remark here and a critique there never hurt anyone, however, Walburga's tongue had been barbed.
Regulus came to the conclusion that this feeling – the wet, heavy, sunken ache in his stomach – had been Sirius' experience during his time at home, and somehow felt the resentment he'd once held toward his brother dissolve. If it hadn't been his hair, which she cut by Friday, then it had been the length of his nails; they were promptly trimmed by a sniffling Kreacher. On Wednesday, Walburga didn't like the way he'd been eating his food and decided that etiquette lessons were to resume after the gathering. On Thursday, a screaming match had ensued as his mother had commented on his pitiful appearance during dinner.
He'd never screamed at his mother before; there'd never been the need to. Regulus and his mother had always enjoyed each other's company. Her treatment toward her eldest son had never reflected into him, and he preferred it that way. She was understanding of his shortcomings, of his faults and flaws, and loved him regardless of them. In fact, she loved them enough to correct them with the help of instructors and lessons. Sure, he didn't always agree with her, but he was smarter than Sirius and knew when to keep his trap shut about it. That'd been the only reason his relationship with their mother had stayed afloat as long as it had: silence.
It had been the price to pay for peace – a price he now found he was willing to pay so long as it got her nagging to cease.
"I don't understand how you've managed to muck up your haircut already," she bit, tearing her filed nails through each, delicate curl with enough force to rip his scalp. "Honestly, Regulus, it's simple. Fix your damn hair in the morning."
"I do fix it, Mother," he gritted his teeth. "It looks fine! Will you just leave it alone?"
He made a move to exit the room, taking his robes and whatever was left of his hair with him, but her vice grip snatched him before an inch had been put between their bodies.
"You listen to me, Regulus," she said. "I will not have a repeat of that Christmas tonight, do you understand me?"
Regulus' face twisted, partially due to his revulsion toward Bellatrix, but also because of the slight fog in the forefront of his mind.
"What do you mean by that," he questioned.
"I mean, do not repeat your brother's actions."
Regulus regarded his relationship with Sirius mended, on all appropriate terms. Of course, as brothers always will, they bickered and bantered like they'd done ten years ago, and Sirius would, on occasion, become territorial of his friends. However, the overall temperature surrounding their hatred for one another had simmered down to such a low intensity, Regulus found it difficult to remember why exactly he'd despised his brother. There were hopes that the feeling was mutual.
Sirius was, to put it plainly, a pureblooded dirtbag with enough air in his head to supply all of Britain had it been captured in a dome, and yes, he was, by all accounts, a blithering idiot almost every day of the week. Yet, he was a funny idiot with air in his head. Sirius might have been an egotistical monster, but at least he made up for it in trips to the café or adventures on Roxanne the motorbike.
So, as his mother insinuated that Sirius was anything but a proper young man, Regulus felt a warmth flare in his chest.
"He didn't do anything wrong," Regulus muttered, but no one heard him.
His mother had begun her readying ritual by the vanity mirror, muttering one obscenity after the other under her breath. As if any other cue could be more obvious, Regulus left and prayed that God would send some sort of interruption before the time came to leave for the Malfoy's. Something in his stomach, whether it had been the thought of dinner with Bellatrix or the dark mood surrounding the date, didn't sit well, and if Sirius had taught him anything useful within the last year of their cavorting in Manchester it had been to trust his gut.
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Wales, September 1979
Sirius watched as James fretted over his immaculate appearance in the mirror; it had been ages since his friend felt the need to doll himself up for any occasion. James dawned a splendid suit with red accents – the man nearly bathed himself in the color – and a single, fresh Lily pinned to the breast pocket. With the help of his father's special hair tonic, he was able to tame the fierce mass of hair atop his head into more manageable waves, the light shimmering against dark follicles.
"I'd say you're pretty enough to die for," Sirius jested, lounging on the arm chair positioned just feet away. "She'd be a fool not to say yes, and you and I both know Lily is no fool."
James spun on his heel, eyes frantic, "Yes, but that's exactly why I'm terrified, Pads! She's a genius – an intelligent, fierce, hilarious, clever, stunning young woman who'd be an idiot to say yes to a bloke like me." His face fell, hazel eyes glued to the glittering hint on his finest shoes.
Sirius pushed himself up, approaching his dearest friend with supportive arms.
For years, Sirius endured the late-night ramblings of James Potter as he declared his heart to a young girl who'd hexed his eyebrows off on numerous occasions or even charmed his mouth close just to utter yet another rejection to pile on top of the growing mountain. For years, Sirius endured the tears and wailings of a broken-hearted teenager as if the world had been crumbling because Miss Evans had been too busy with Potions' Club to attend Hogsmeade. And for years, Sirius endured this same young woman – the woman who'd forced his brother to suffer torment throughout his academic career – falling right back for the idiot who learned Muggle music just to sing Lily's favorite song to her for her sixteenth birthday.
Honestly, they were just as disgusting in their old age; domesticity suited them, yes, but it was still strange seeing the wild spirit James once was subdued by the homebody soul residing in both him and his girlfriend. Sirius had assumed they cavort into their thirties, hitting up bars and clubs in hopes of reliving the glory of their school days or challenge one another to drinking challenges just as they had after victorious Quidditch games. He thought they'd all become Aurors, apprehending the bad guys and celebrated by the public.
Yet, here they were – James Potter fiddling with the fifty-fucking-carat, rose gold engagement ring for the eighth time in a row just to make sure it didn't look "off."
"And you're just as intelligent, fierce, and stunning as her," Sirius said, holding James by the cheeks. "Where's the airhead when you need him?"
"Cowering in a corner," James sulked, stuffing the ring box inside of his suit and sighing. "We aren't like you and Moony, Pads."
Sirius threw his head back, "Thank Gods for that."
They settled on the sofa, Sirius kicking his legs up as per usual with an unmatched and natural elegance anyone would envy. He'd cut his hair, the tips just tickling the curve of his earlobe. It was wet from his morning shower with Remus and smelled just the way he liked it – indescribably fresh and cool. Really, it was Remus who loved it so much, and Sirius couldn't find it in him to swap out the soap for something else more to his liking.
James, on the other hand, sat with his back hunched and his fingers in his mouth, teeth gnawing dangerously close to the root of his nails. An expression, something mixed with apprehension and doubt, clouded his typically jolly features, leaving him looking sunken and afraid – two things one would rarely find in a man such as James Potter. His eyes, hidden behind the reflection of light-struck glasses, were filled with unshed, nervous tears – emotions he hadn't felt in years. The last time Sirius had seen James like this, it had been the morning he proposed they purchase their own flat. Here they were, nearly a year later with another heavy proposition weighing on his shoulders.
"I mean it, though," James cried. "We aren't like you and Remus. We argue and we banter; we could hardly agree on what color to paint the kitchen, and she's sick and tired of my curry! I know I get on her ever-loving last nerves and -"
Sirius raised his hand to silence his friend, sending him a warning glare.
"The first notion I would like you to disregard is that Remus and I get along swimmingly," Sirius said. "It has taken since our fourth year to get as far as we have, with plenty of steps in the wrong direction, as he would put it. Just this morning, we argued over the crispness of toast, but that doesn't mean we still don't love one another.
"Secondly, Lily adores you. She might be a tad bit more particular than either of us, and she might have quite the temper -"
"Watch it."
"- and she might have the taste palette of a child because your curry is a delicacy. Nevertheless, my good man, she loves you. I see it in her eyes, in the way she looks at you whether you're looking back or not. I'm not the best with emotions, but I know love when I see it. She loves you. You're just going to have to trust me on it."
James smiled solemnly, a lone tear trailing down his red cheek, and ruffled his hair.
"You're my best mate, Pads," James murmured, voice soft and tender in a way Sirius only heard from his lover. "I know we haven't spoken much lately, but you... well... I don't know what - I don't think I could get along without you."
"Awe," Sirius clapped James' shoulder harshly, laughing as his friend stuttered wildly, "you're damn straight I am. I didn't put up with you for nine years just to get the title of acquaintance."
"Shove it," James smirked, the sweaty palm of his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He inhaled deeply. "I suppose there's never going to be a better time than now, huh?"
Sirius jumped from the sofa, yanking James' body with him, "Right you are, Captain." He steadied James' body, grasping his face and pulling him close. "Now, puff that hairy chest out, raise that dashing cleft chin, and flash that dazzling smile, Prongs! Remus tells me that if we wait until we are ready, then we'll be waiting for the rest our miserable lives."
"My life isn't miserable," James mentioned cluelessly, adjusting his bowtie.
"Poetic figure of speech, block head," Sirius drawled, taking his friend by the hand and dragging him through the hall. "Prepare yourself for the greatest day of your natural born life, chap. This will go down in the books!"
James, however, did not respond, too busy watching his feet wandering aimlessly down the hallway. Lily and Remus were just in the drawing room, discussing matters of the Order and what not. This proposal would be a wonderful distraction to their ongoing distress and the impending sense of their world crumbling in their fingertips. If anyone truly needed such a diversion, it had been Lily and Remus.
Nevertheless, Sirius willed his mind to ignore such discrepancies. This moment belonged to the future Potter's, not his anxieties or self-fulfilling prophecies. They could fret over the natural state of their world in the morning, but for now, the day belonged to them – proposals and all. Sirius came to a halt at the edge of the drawing room, the tip of his shoe boring a hole in the carpet as he watched with anticipation.
Lily and Remus were bent over a document, an array of pens and highlighters strewn in front of them. Lily's straight teeth gnawed on the cap of a ballpoint, dewy eyes scanning over the letter, most likely from Dumbledore, with furrowed, ginger brows. James' Quidditch jersey hung from her fragile frame, wisps of her hair spilling over her freckled shoulders.
Remus, looking much more flustered than any one of them, laid on his belly, that stupid, yellow sweater he'd bought on sale clinging to his filling body. He pulled the sleeves over his bruised knuckles, hiding the cuts and splotches of discoloration from prying eyes – from Sirius' disturbed, prying eyes. His hair, also freshly cut, tickled the nape of his neck and ears. While he abhorred chewing on the tips of pens, Remus decided, instead, chose to nibble on his chapped lips until crimson blood spilled onto his tongue.
"Hello, darling," James approached Lily, rubbing her exposed shoulders with trembling hands.
Distracted, Lily hummed, "Hi, love."
"Moony," Sirius called, "will you come here for a moment? I need your opinion on something important."
Remus' eyes flitted over Sirius' lazy figure, noting the hint of urgency in his eyes and sighing.
"Could it possibly wait for a moment, Pads? I'm on the verge of something," he mumbled, taking a highlighter in his hand and making a note on the parchment. Sirius huffed irately, rolling his eyes at his lover's obliviousness.
"No, Remus," he added an emphasis on his name, "it cannot wait."
Remus groaned, not wanting to ask any more questions, and rose from his spot on the couch. He towered over Sirius' small stature, his neck craning to look down at him with a slight frustration. His cheeks, marred from last night's transformation, were pink beneath the blotches of purple and blue. He stepped behind Sirius, on his way toward the kitchen for a fresh cup of tea and a cucumber sandwich. Sirius, ready to give the love birds their space, followed.
"Can I be frank," he asked, settling himself on the counter beside Remus. He was granted a gruff, incoherent mumble in response. "I really only wanted you in here so that James could pop the big news in private."
Remus' hands fumbled with the teapot, spitting the remains of a sandwich into the sink. His eyes grew wide, filled with unshed shock.
"I know," Sirius smirked. "Took them long enough."
Remus, chewing whatever was left of his food, managed to choke out, "That's brilliant! How long has this been planned?"
Sirius shrugged, "About a day."
"Just a day?!"
"Yeah," Sirius plucked a pretzel from a plate left from their earlier brunch.
"But is he sure about it," Remus sputtered. "Marriage is a major commitment. I mean, he should be absolutely positive that he's ready for it. It's no easy feat to -"
"Moony, Moony," Sirius cried. "Have a little faith! James has been planning their wedding since our third year, alright. If anyone has ever been sure about marriage, it's the two of them."
Remus nodded, taking Sirius' words into account. It had been true; James had been smitten with Lily for years, and there was not a thing in this life that could convince his friends otherwise. It had only been a worry that perhaps they were moving quickly. They'd only been together officially for two years; did the unrequited love phase count? It surely did for Sirius and Remus, at least to Sirius. Lily and James should be no different.
Only they were.
Remus shuffled over to Sirius, mushing himself between the latter's thighs and pressed his forehead against his.
"Do you think she'll say yes," he asked.
Sirius reached up, slim fingers running through the trimmed baby hairs on the back of Remus' neck and massaging gently, "Of course she will. She'd be bonkers if she didn't."
"Keep doing that," Remus whispered, his eyes fluttering closed.
Sirius knew how much stress Remus had been put under in recent weeks. Moody set upon him a task to locate populated Werewolf dens in and around the city, whether it meant intensive research or an extensive journey to remote parts of the country. Some nights he'd be up until dawn, bent over his journals and century old books from the Potter's library. His hair would be ruffled and his eyes would be sunken and dark, eyelashes fluttering against flushed cheeks. Sirius hated seeing him like that – exhausted and stretched to his limit. However, they'd all been pushed as of late. Still, it didn't ease his growing worries for Remus' health.
Sirius pressed a chaste kiss to Remus' lips, "I love you."
He felt Remus' cheeks tug into a grin, the heat from his body transferring to his forehead.
"I love you more," Remus declared.
Sirius scoffed, "Impossible."
"Oh, I believe it's quite possible, actually. I think it's inevitable."
"Whatever floats your boat," Sirius playfully shoved Remus by his shoulder – the good one – regretting the loss of contact soon after.
Remus returned his attention to his tea, sorting through the different flavors and brands Lily had available at the time. She'd been out of their favorite – peppermint – so they would have to settle for vanilla chamomile. Mindlessly, Sirius watched as Remus went through the motions they'd become so accustomed to in their time living together. Grabbing a spoon that appeared so minute in his large hands, stirring the weak teabag in the water as Sirius would normally prepare the cozy pot that Lily lacked; that would be their wedding gift. Remus had even made Sirius a cup with a dash of milk and two sugars, just how he liked it.
Sirius took it graciously, "Thank you, my love."
"Oh, don't start with the domestic pet names, prick," Remus chuckled. "We aren't married yet."
Sirius blanched. They'd joked quite often about marriage as if it had been just a tea topic. The thing was, however, that they'd only joked. There'd been an edge to Remus' voice, a hint hidden beneath the tremors of his laughter, that had a masked implication. It had an inclination that Sirius was not prepared to acknowledge; the possibility of a domestic life had never been an option for them. England didn't acknowledge same-sex partnership. In fact, on the whole, it was still very much illegal despite the rise in gay couples. Even so, marriage just wasn't realistic.
Nevertheless, a butterfly bristled inside of him, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.
From the kitchen, a resounding scream – yes! - echoed. So it had been decided. The Potter's would soon come to be; his best friend would be married off and shipped to the suburbs they'd once despised. Soon enough, a bastard child would be on the way and Sirius would have to put up with its whining. Perhaps they'd have more than one. Maybe three or four; James loved children. For now, however, he'd settle with hearing the details of their wedding day in and day out.
He flashed a smile at Remus who'd been just as delighted to hear the news.
"You know, we'll never hear the end of this," Remus commented. "From either one of them."
"We'll let them have their little moment."
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Their night had been spent in glee, Dumbledore's documents and maps long forgotten on the sofa. The firewhiskey had been brought out, showers of confetti and sparks rained from the tips of their wands, and James had even offered to order takeout on the latest addition to their home – a landline. Keep in mind, he hadn't figured it out exactly, and it was a work in progress to ensure he didn't holler into the receiver as Lily had instructed him not to do.
"If you told me six years ago that I'd be marrying the school idiot, I would have laughed in your face," Lily snickered.
"If you told me I'd be marrying the most intelligent, brilliant witch of our school, I would have laughed in your face," James retorted, stroking a stray hair out of her face.
"Oh, why'd you have to go all mushy on me," Lily whined. "Now I look like a meanie."
"You are a meanie," Sirius shrieked. "Just the other day, you told me my eyeliner was smudged!"
"Because it was, moron," Lily sneered. "Remus, was it not smeared?!"
Remus, who'd been sipping his tea nonchalantly on the arm of the couch, kept his eyes cast downward in hopes the attention would be averted. Sirius knew that tactic; he wouldn't let him get away with it this time.
"Darling, was it smudged," Sirius asked, more forcefully than Lily this time.
Remus opened his mouth, a look only the mediator could project, when a bright light spilled into the living room. It blinded Sirius, his hands frantically moving to cover his eyes. James groaned.
"An attack has been reported at Malfoy Manor," it spoke, Moody's voice booming over their dying pleasure. "Investigate it and report back to headquarters as soon as possible."
It faded, its intensity spilling onto the floor like smoke. Out of every place that Sirius had wanted to go on a night such as this, his cousin's house had been at the bottom of the list. Yet, something in his stomach twisted in apprehension. It must've been important to ask them to leave at nearly eleven o'clock at night. He could only hope it had nothing to do with Voldemort, despite every bone in his body telling him otherwise.
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Hey everyone. It's Nic. I am not proud with the end of this chapter at all. I know it could've been better, but I know I needed to update sooner rather than later. I promise I'll go back and make it better, or perhaps make the next chapter even more juicy.
Finally! Jily is like... getting married! That's quite the commitment, don't you think?
Anyways, I wanted to tell you that my workload this semester is way worse than it's ever been. I have to read and write a bunch, and my schedule is almost always busy, so we might have a little setback for now. But once Spring Break gets here, hopefully I can update a little more frquently.
I hope you enjoyed. Much love to all of you!