A/N: Another D&D AU that technically loosely connects with another one I wrote, but also easily stands alone! Al you need to know is that the Marauders are a party and Regulus has a semi-dark past!
The stalls are thick with wares, coated in cheaply glittering items meant to ensnare and lure in unsuspecting customers. Regulus rifles through the rubbish, keeping a wary eye on his chattering shadow.
"I'd understand if they wanted to go off for a bit and have a secret snog or something, but this is a dangerous trip halfway across the bloody Kingdom," James says, his usual cheer dampened as he peruses the street mulishly, keeping a look-out. "It's not the same thing. Why didn't they tell us before they left?"
"I imagine it has something to do with the fact that you would have tied them down to their beds, or secreted yourself away in their backpack." Regulus indicates a vial of diluted amber essence and snaps his fingers at the seller. "How much for this?"
"Don't snap at people, that's so rude! I don't even snap at people, and I was born into royalty—!"
"How much?" Regulus asks again, cutting off James's muttering.
"Three silver," says the seller, with a mean grin.
It's not the worst he's ever spent for a bit of tat. He tosses over the coins, feeling indulgent, though he still leaves behind a faint orb of malicious energy. Not enough to hurt the seller, but enough to make their day a little drab. It glimmers under the table, and Regulus can see James narrowing his eyes at it as he pockets the vial and strolls away.
"If I hear any explosions, I know who to point to," James says.
"All it does is make him susceptible to bad smells," Regulus reassures him, rolling his eyes as they weave through the crowd, James sticking easily to his heels. "His olfactory system will be on high alert for the next hour, that's all." He turns his head just enough to sneer at James. "Why, don't you trust me?"
James frowns at him. "You know I do."
The startling thing is, Regulus does know it. When he came stumbling out of the dark mountains years ago with tattoos stained into his skin and malicious magic eating away at his soul, the last thing he expected was to be accepted into the fold of his older brother and all his friends. He never expected James Potter, heir to a small Kingdom and good to the truest extent of the word, to trust him. But there isn't much he can do about it. James trusts him painfully, foolishly, and quite without sense. He leaps into people's arms, so sure that they will catch him, and the expectancy is enough that Regulus often finds himself with his arms spread wide instinctively, ready to cushion his fall.
"One day I'll talk you out of trusting me," Regulus promises him.
He has a terrible, sinking feeling that it really will happen. The magic he gained from the darkness brewing in the mountains is not idle. It lives in his marrow. It can be tempered with brief battles and a few sips of stalling potions, but all he's doing in reality is delaying the inevitable. The magic will eat and eat and eat until there's nothing left of Regulus Black but a burned out hollow shell of what used to be, a husk of skeletal malice with every intention of putting a hole in the world, and no more will to hold back his urges.
One day, James will stop trusting him, and there won't be enough of Regulus left alive by then to feel the sting of regret.
"You're so theatrical," James says, though it's said in an admiring tone, soft with amusement. "Let me worry about whether or not I can trust you, hey? You worry about whatever's burning a hole in your pocket."
Regulus glances down, his brow already furrowed, only to curse in alarm at the smoke billowing out of his cloak. By the time he's marched back to the seller, there's very little left of his cloak besides the hem and the clasp, and the vial is nothing but dust in the air.
The seller and the stall are conspicuously absent. Regulus indulges himself in a little monologue consisting mostly of curse words, spitting in a dark language known only by those who have swallowed grave dirt. It is, essentially, a tantrum, but nobody else has to know that. Except for James, who watches the whole thing with delight, but Regulus has become disgustingly accustomed to baring the more idiotic parts of himself around him.
"Feel better?" James asks.
Regulus tips his head back and sighs. "No, not really."
"Well, I think you've successfully terrified most of the market, so stall-shopping is out. Why don't we go and get you a new cloak, and then take a trip to the Bathhouse?"
Regulus wrinkles his nose. Bathhouses in towns like these are always busy, noisy affairs with very little privacy to speak of.
"Why on earth would I want to go to a Bathhouse with you?"
"Because I'm pretty sure the guy that sold you the false essence was a Siren, and we're nowhere near the coast. And wouldn't you know, I saw a sign on the way offering a heavy duty salt soak for really weary, water-favouring travellers." James grins, leaning in close enough to take Regulus's breath away. "Let's go see if we can rattle some small change out of him, shall we?"
Regulus wakes to the sound of Sirius whining somewhere nearby. It's not the worst way he's ever woken up—that honour goes to waking up in the ground, in the dark hot damp ground, where the wriggling things writhe, during something he doesn't like to think about—but it's certainly up there. It's made worse by the fact that he doesn't remember falling asleep.
"Can't we go one day without some kind of incident occurring?" Sirius complains, his voice piercing the fog surrounding Regulus's brain.
"Well, we could, if you weren't so keen on pressing your nose up against every single mystery you come across." After a pause, Remus adds, "It doesn't even have to be a mystery. If it's vaguely mystery-shaped, that does it for you."
"That does it for me? That sounds pretty lewd, Lupin. Are you calling me some kind of mystery-courtesan?"
"I was calling you a nosy whore, actually."
Regulus considers tapping the nearest guard on the shoulder and asking to be executed instead of imprisoned. If he's very polite about it, they might do it right here instead of wasting time with a public ceremony or an intricate ritual.
The dulcet tones of his brother and his brother's paramore cut off when Regulus sits up, gritting his teeth against the throbbing ache in his temple. He cracks open one eye and meets Sirius's unrepentant grin through a set of cold steel bars.
"Alright, Reggie? Fancy seeing you here."
It annoys Regulus that Remus Lupin always looks the most put-together out of all of them, considering he favours shabby gear and a general aura of exhaustion over anything else. He scans Regulus keenly and quickly through the bars separating their cells, and nods to himself at whatever he sees.
"You might have a concussion, but I don't think it's anything to worry about," Remus says.
"Thank you so much for that assessment, Healer Lupin."
Sirius rolls his eyes. "C'mon, Reg, show a little gratitude. We were coming to break you out, you know."
Regulus drips his gaze along the cold, damp walls of the cell, down over the floor that looks slick with substances better left unidentified, and finally straight through the thick iron bars holding them all prisoner.
"You've done a very fine job," Regulus says, spreading his manacled wrists as much as possible. "It's nice to finally get these cuffs off and stretch my legs in the warm, bright sunshine again."
"We were getting there." Sirius waves a hand dismissively, leaning back against the far wall, legs splayed like he doesn't have a care in the world. "All part of the plan, don't worry. What can you remember?"
He remembers the Bathhouse. He remembers James touching his tattoos and smiling up at him through the steam, the laughter lines around his face softening. Then he remembers the Siren coming into the room, and the way everything else seemed to get quiet. Only the Siren's voice was important.
It terrified him.
"We tracked down the Siren in the Bathhouse," Regulus says slowly, his brow wrinkling in thought. "I don't remember much after it started singing."
"The Siren in the Bath House," Sirius repeats. "Sounds like one of those dodgy scrolls Lily likes to read. The ones those ancient old farts probably enjoyed thousands of years ago in their holier than thou temples." He stops to cock an eyebrow at Remus. "And I do mean enjoyed in the unholy sense. Maybe we should pick up a copy?"
"Focus, Sirius," Remus says, but there's an amused, affectionate light in his eyes.
Regulus rests his head against the wall and prays that it falls down on top of him.
"Oh, come on, it's not that bad," Sirius says, noticing his despair. "We spend most of our lives getting into and out of jail cells. James should have noticed we're gone by now, and he'll be on his merry little way to work his royal magic and get us off scot free."
Regulus inhales sharply. He sits up, barely blinking, and tries to think back to the Bathhouse.
"You never told me what happened," Regulus says, worry sharpening his tone. "How did I get here? How did you get here?"
Sirius and Remus look at each other, a dozen words passing through the silence in a matter of moments, and then Remus stands, coming closer to the bars. The manacles tug at his ankles, but he manages to get up close to the partition between their cells.
"We don't know what happened," Remus says slowly. "We were on our way back into the town when we heard there'd been trouble at the Bathhouse. Lily told us you'd gone out when we got back to her shop, and we assumed you'd be back soon enough."
"When you didn't come back after dark, we went out to look for you," Sirius says, picking up the thread. "Had to peek in a few dodgy places and overhear a few things before we finally caught some guard bragging about bagging a baby malicious magic user." He fixes Regulus with a steady, searching look. "I figured that was probably you, and we came to get you out of jail. Got caught instead."
"Just me?"
Remus stiffens, and Sirius gets clumsily to his feet, eyes gone narrow.
"Just you," Sirius confirms. "Should there have been anyone else there?"
"Who else do we know that won't stop following me around?" Regulus snaps. "You make enough jokes about Potter being glued to my hip, but you didn't think to question why he wasn't in the cell with me?"
There is a beat of silence before Sirius starts cursing lowly under his breath. Regulus surveys the cell. There are thin wards worked into the stone walls, and the bars are too strong to break through without unleashing a horror that Regulus won't be able to rein in again. Most of his magic teeters on the edge of uncontrollable.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Sirius snarls.
"Why didn't we?" Remus says, thinking aloud if the look in his eyes is anything to go by. "Regulus is right. We should have asked about James immediately, but until Sirius mentioned him in a jokey way, he didn't even cross my mind. Lily didn't say anything either."
"A block?" Sirius frowns. "A magical barricade? Mind magic, for sure."
"Siren magic," Regulus grits out. "When I woke up, everything felt foggy, but I brushed it off. Siren magic is much more alluring and secretive than other kinds. It isn't a barricade. It's a light over a marsh, gently urging you closer. But this one leads you away. It works in reverse. The Siren has…"
Even now, it's an effort to fit James's name in his mouth. The word won't come easily. His tongue slackens, and it feels like he's speaking through wool, the thoughts muffled and indistinct. But he presses on, James's sharply bright smile echoing in his head, and finally forces out his sentence.
"The Siren has James, and we're under its magic."
"How can we be under it?" Sirius gestures between the cells. "We haven't even met this Siren. Shouldn't you be the only one affected?"
"Unless it's using a blanket effect," Remus says, brows rising. "That's clever."
"Exactly. And it might be clever, but it's also risky. If it's covering the whole town, then it's being stretched thin. All it takes is one tug in the right place, and the whole thing will unspool."
"We won't be able to unspool anything from behind bars," Sirius says.
Regulus is about to snap at him to make a useful contribution when Remus cuts them both off, his eyes glinting amber in the low light.
"We'll have to do something about that, then," Remus says quietly.
Lily is waiting for them when they climb through her window late that night, soot-stained and panting with the effort of breaking through a dozen or so guards. She holds up a chunk of crystal the size of Regulus's head, her eyes narrowed in warning. She is barefoot and dressed for bed and no less terrifying for it.
"Don't come any closer unless you can tell me exactly what happened in that Bathhouse," Lily says. "I mean it."
Light pulses from the crystal, a steady heartbeat of power.
"What do you think happens in bathhouses?" Regulus snaps. "We don't have time for this. Get out of the way so we can rescue James."
Lily falters. Then she frowns, her eyes narrowing at him. "How is it you can say his first name, something you usually refuse to do, but I could barely think about him at all until about ten minutes ago?"
"Reggie's special," Sirius says, cracking a huge yawn. "How come you remembered him?"
"I picked up a cleansing crystal to find a text I needed, and it activated. The mind magic bled away. How did you remember him?"
"I'm special," Regulus snaps again. "Are you going to help us rescue the bastard or not?"
Lily eventually puts the crystal away, begrudgingly convinced of their identities. It helps that Sirius is so unconcerned by her concern, lolling about on the cushions, getting ash and dirt everywhere. But Regulus knows him better than that. He sees right through the facade, down into the gritty parts of him that quake with rage and the restless, ceaseless urge to do something, to save his best friend.
"Those crystals of yours," Regulus says, gesturing vaguely as he paces back and forth. "Would they do any harm against the Siren?"
Lily's brows rise. "It's a Siren?"
They fill her in; or rather, Sirius and Remus fill her in while Regulus marches to the bathroom, cleaning himself up. He meets his own reflection in the mirror and scowls. They've been idle for long enough, but he takes a moment to push down the dark pulse behind his eyes, the trickle of old necromancy magic that lingers like a bloodstain on his soul.
It always rears its head when James is in trouble. Regulus would rather not think about why, but it might have something to do with his insipid, foolish, stupid heart beating twice as fast whenever James is near.
"Foolish," Regulus murmurs to himself. "Very, very foolish."
But foolishness is contagious, it would seem. After so long in this little party, he no longer has the strength to stop loving James Potter, and if he has to give into something, he would rather it was that.
The plan is fairly simple in the end. They each take one of Lily's slightly smaller crystals and fasten them around their necks. Chunks of rose-pink dangle from chains in the hollows of their throat.
"It should keep the Siren's magic from affecting you, so you won't forget James again," she says. "It will be easier to think about him, and call out for him. It will also turn darker as you get closer to the source of the magic. I think the Siren has to keep James near in order to wipe him from our minds. Magic is always easier when you have something concrete to focus on."
"So we follow the crystals and break him out of whatever prison the Siren's keeping him in," Sirius says, playing with a dagger despite Remus's wary gaze. "But how do we take out the Siren?"
"Once you remove the effects of the song, a Siren is just as susceptible to damage as any other living thing," Remus says. "He will still put up a fight, but it shouldn't be too hard to put him down."
"So, the old two-step then?" Sirius asks.
"I thought that was a dance," Lily says, frowning.
"Can we just get on with it?" Regulus demands, exasperated. Three knowing looks are aimed his way, and he rolls his eyes, making for the door. It's freezing outside, uncommonly cold for this time of year, and he suppresses a shiver. He doesn't enjoy warmer climates, but something about the cold reminds him of mountains and darkness, and he doesn't enjoy that either. There's a fog in the air; a side-effect of the blanket spell.
"Yeah, yeah, keep your hair on," Sirius says, trailing along behind him. "We'll get him out of there. He's probably living it up with the Siren right now. Probably getting on like a dream."
Regulus bites back a sharp word, showing unbelievable restraint. Sirius squeezes his shoulder briefly as he brushes past, and that's the only reason Regulus doesn't launch the heaviest crystal at his head.
The four of them cut through the dark street, avoiding guards and various travellers as they make their way through town. They did just break out of a cell; a little caution is sensible, even if the slow pace grates on his nerves. The crystals are not an exact map, but the rose-pink colour darkens the closer they stray to the edge of the town.
They pass the border and out onto the grasslands that stretch ahead. Regulus's stomach curdles with fear. James vanished over a day ago, according to their various stories. There's no telling how far they could have gotten.
"You'd think a Siren would gravitate towards water," Lily murmurs. "I assume that's why they were in the Bathhouse in the first place. They have a new salt soak, don't they?"
"That's what James said," Regulus admits. "The Siren sold me something in the market that turned out to be a fake, and when we went back, he was gone. We went to the Bathhouse to try and find him. But I haven't seen that seller before, and the salt soak is new."
"New in town then," Lily says, nodding. "He would have needed somewhere with water to stay, even if it wasn't saltwater."
"Are there any natural pools out here?" Remus says, scanning the hills as they trudge along. "Any ponds or rivers?"
Lily shakes her head. "Nothing out in the open." Her eyes light up suddenly, and she makes a quick turn on her heel. "But there are caves a little further North of here. Not too far, and I've never been inside them, but I've picked ebony-aisle flowers nearby."
"That's important, why?" Sirius asks.
"Ebony-aisle flowers only grow near water," Remus says thoughtfully. "It's possible that there are pools inside the caves. The Siren might have been using it as a base to keep his skin from drying up, and then he came into town to use the salt soak when it got dire."
It's a reasonable enough assumption, and they don't have anything better to go off.
"It's as good a plan as any," Sirius says, shrugging. "Let's go, yeah?"
Sure enough, the crystals darken quickly now that they have a heading. Regulus grits his teeth, trying desperately not to think too hard about James, lest his face give anything away, but equally as reluctant to avoid thinking about him. He doesn't want to forget.
The caves are dark and surrounded by a thin mist. They glance at each other at once, filled with understanding. Lily places a spare crystal outside on a flat rock, a protection charm of sorts, and leads the way inside. Remus's eyes glow amber in the dark. The sound of trickling water reaches them soon enough, and they step as silently as possible through the tunnels until the cave opens up into a sweet-smelling cavern.
Pools of water fill the ground. Spice and petals float in some; steam mists off the others. In the far corner, there's a figure slumped against the craggy wall, hand-cuffed and watching them with glazed eyes.
Regulus doesn't think. He moves. He darts around the pools, ignoring Lily's shocked inhale and Sirius's whispered curse. James watches him with dull, dreamy eyes. His mouth is slack but he looks unharmed. The cuffs around his wrist snap easily under the dark fire rolling through Regulus's fingers; he's careful not to burn him, careful not to get too close.
"James," Regulus murmurs. "Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"
James lifts his head. It drops back down like it's too heavy to hold up, a mockery of a nod. Regulus's throat tightens, and he fights not to touch him, not to skim his hands over every inch of him and check for injuries. The Siren's magic is thicker here, and James has been under its effects for a while.
"Can you walk?"
"Reggie," Sirius calls, in a hushed tone. "We need to get him out of here."
"I know that," Regulus hisses back. "Just focus on finding the Siren while I help him."
"Where is it?" Remus whispers. "I can smell…"
The Siren slinks out of a nearby pool, fast and deadly, the barbed end of a tail curled around his wrist like a whip. His hair falls like silk around his face, reaching down to the small of his back. From the base of his spine to his feet, his skin is covered in turquoise scales.
"Hello there," he calls, in a soft, lilting tone. "I'm so glad that you came to visit. Won't you stay a while?"
Somewhere in the cave, Lily sighs wistfully, faltering. Sirius makes a confused noise, turning foggy eyes to Remus, whose expression is twisted. The whole world feels like it's holding its breath. Regulus braces himself for the magic's touch, for the invasion of sultry sirensong and sweet music, but all he sees when he looks at the Siren is a snarled face and a glittering, gleaming set of teeth.
The terror sets in. The urge to run. Regulus holds fast and yanks the crystal off his neck.
He slams the crystal against the ground. A crack appears in the rose-coloured surface, and a fine mist seeps out, sweeping through the air. His mind, which was clear already, sharpens immediately. The Siren makes a guttural sound; noises of surprise quickly rise up to meet him. Lily blinks rapidly. The fog clears from Sirius's eyes, and as he meets Regulus's gaze across the room, he sees the moment they come back to themselves.
"Fuck," Sirius says, and then he hurls a dagger through the air, right at the Siren's head.
"Lean on me," Regulus says, turning back to James. "The others will take care of the Siren, but we have to get you out of here."
A shout and a rough noise reach him, but he ignores it. It pains him to ignore it, but he had to trust the others. He gets James to his feet clumsily, ignoring the heat and vicious snarls, the splash of water and the hasty chanting. Remus lets out a roar that sends a shudder down Regulus's spine, not that he would ever admit it. Something whips around his ankle, wet and barbed, but it retreats just as quickly as Lily's chanting reaches a pique, followed by a wet snap and a hurt noise.
Regulus doesn't look. His only priority right now is James.
They stumble out of the cave together, and the first cool breath of night air feels like heaven in his lungs. The crystal flares on the flat rock, and Regulus crouches beside it, bringing James down to the cool grass with him, trying to nudge him back to life. He's vacant and limp, but his chest rises and falls steadily, and he blinks placidly. He's alive. But there's none of that vitality in there, and it makes Regulus want to look away out of respect.
"Always getting into trouble, Potter," Regulus murmurs to himself. "Honestly, it's a wonder nothing worse has happened to you."
The longer they sit there, listening to the furious noises echoing out of the caves, the more the fog clears from James's eyes. His brow furrows, and he fixes Regulus with a look of confusion, blinking slowly.
"Know who I am?" Regulus asks.
"What kind of question is that?" James asks, sounding hoarse. "Of course I know who you are."
Regulus isn't so sure. But at least James is talking now, full words and whole sentences, even if his voice sounds painful.
"Regulus," James says, after a beat, and the relief that he feels almost buckles him, even though he's already knee-deep in the dirt.
One last vicious howl comes pouring out of the mouth of the cave. James scrambles to sit up, but he's weak and tired, and he ends up sprawling on the ground again, panting.
"I believe that was Lupin," Regulus says. "Your friends were taking care of the Siren that captured you. It didn't do anything to you, did it? You're not hurt?"
"I'm fine," James says, shaking his head. "All it did was drop me there and go for a swim. It did bring up dinner a few times, but I don't know if it was asking me out or planning which course I'd be good for. It's hard to tell sometimes."
"I suppose you're just that irresistible."
"I know it's bad when you're joining in with my jokes," James says, smiling at him tentatively.
But James is here, and he isn't badly hurt, and he doesn't seem inclined to run off to the ocean at any point, so Regulus doesn't think it's all that bad at all.
It seems to take forever to get James back to Lily's house. Lily opens the door and ushers them inside; Sirius lets James slip off his back and fusses over him quietly. Remus goes off to make tea, and Lily joins him, leaving the crystals on her messy desk.
Regulus stands near the doorway and tries not to feel like an unwanted shadow. He sheds his boots and his cloak and heads for the bedroom, slinking there with quiet grace. It's the bedroom that he and James share, just two wooden beds and a wardrobe crammed full of odds and ends. Their bags are slumped right where they left them. Regulus sits on the edge of the bed and stands almost immediately, heading for the basin beneath the window. He washes his face and wets a rag, and turns when he hears his name spoken softly from the doorway.
James is standing there, shifting awkwardly. He looks as out of place as Regulus feels, eyes downcast.
"Mind if I come in?"
"It's your room too," Regulus says stiffly.
James's shoulders slump. "Thanks. I just...don't want to be around everyone right now."
And this strikes him as odd. James was complaining only that morning about how Remus and Sirius had abandoned them. He always wants to hang out with his friends. He doesn't like spending time alone, and he absolutely hates not having anyone to talk to. Regulus cocks his head and puts the rag down on the edge of the basin.
"Why not?"
"Because I feel like an idiot?" James says, half-laughing as he rakes a hand through his hair. "I didn't even try to fight it. That thing had me in handcuffs and I just stumbled along after it, like a gooey-eyed child."
He sinks down on the edge of the bed while Regulus stares at him, baffled.
"It was a Siren," he says, stressing the word. "Their entire nature revolves around luring people in. Anyone would have been affected."
But James shakes his head. "You weren't. You weren't even tempted."
"I had the crystal."
"So did the others," James says, not allowing him the out. "They still hesitated. But you never did."
Regulus turns back to the basin. He wrings out the rag and hunts down the ointment Lily keeps in here for bruises, intent on dealing with the black and blue bracelets around James's wrists.
"When Sirens sing, they sing of death," James says.
Regulus stiffens. When he turns back around, he has no idea what expression must be on his face, but James meets it fearlessly. He has always felt brittle, too harsh to be made of soft skin and malleable expressions, too weak and exposed to be the stone he was supposed to be; he is an exposed nerve, a crumbling fortress, an unmarked grave in the dark.
"It's the lure of the unknown," James continues, keeping a careful, knowing eye on him. "That's what the Siren said. People trip over their feet to follow a Siren because they sing of death, and death is unknown. But you fell over your feet trying to get away from death."
"Wouldn't you?" Regulus snaps. "Wouldn't you run if you knew what was waiting?"
James holds his gaze, still careful and knowing but deeply sad too. There isn't any pity there, but Regulus still recoils as though burned. He spits out harsh words and paces back and forth like a caged animal, wild with the presence of a truth he never wanted to tell hanging over them, intruding on their conversation. They've never talked about it. Not properly.
"You're not supposed to know," Regulus says. "Nobody is supposed to know what death tastes like. If we did, we would never open our mouths for it. If we were born knowing what can await us, then every moment spent dying would be a living, breathing agony."
James seems to sink heavily into the mattress. "What exactly happened in those mountains?"
"I don't know," Regulus says, so harshly that the words are little more than a rasp. "There are bits that I… a ritual gone wrong, I suppose, but it ended with me in the ground, buried, seemingly dead but alive. Do you know what that's like? I clawed my way back up. I left most of those memories behind in the dirt. The bits that I do remember come for me when I least expect it. I don't know what happened, but I won't go back to it."
"I'm not asking you to," James says simply. "I'd actually prefer it if you didn't, thanks. I don't care what you did or what you think that means. I just want you to be safe."
And he can tell by the way James looks at him that he means it. He doesn't care that something awful probably happened in those mountains, that Regulus might have done terrible things before he stumbled back into his brother's care. He doesn't care that Regulus technically died, if technicality exists when death is on the table. He seems to care only that Regulus stays very much alive, and that he doesn't go back to that place.
The mountains call to him sometimes. And sometimes, Regulus wants to listen. Like Siren-song, he supposes bitterly. For all his talk, sometimes he wants to take Death's stinging hand and follow it back to the hole he crawled out of.
"I'm not an idiot," Regulus says eventually. "I know I won't be able to avoid it forever. I don't remember the ritual or what it was for, but they dealt in dark magic. Whoever they were. It isn't something we can ignore. Especially a band of do-gooders like the lot of you."
"Does Sirius know?" James asks.
Regulus shakes his head. Then he shrugs. "Sirius is more observant than he lets on. But he's also combative. I think he wouldn't have left me alone if he knew the whole truth."
"But he probably knows enough to be getting on with." James bobs his head in thought, then pats the bed. "Come here, you're making me tired just looking at you."
"You're the one that was captured," Regulus says, but he sighs and does as he's told, gathering the ointment and the rag. "We should be talking about that instead of my problems."
"Your problems are my problems. We don't need to talk about it because I knew you were there, vaguely, and even though I wasn't myself, I knew you would get me out of there. And you said I couldn't trust you, huh?"
There is a moment where Regulus considers running, where he wants to put down the rag and climb through the window, the floor, the wall, whatever it takes to get away from the weight of that smile. But he doesn't. He comes over to the bed and sits beside James, unable to help the urge to be close to him.
James leans into him, warm all along his side, and puts his head on Regulus's shoulder like he has nothing to fear. He says nothing as Regulus tends to the bruises, smoothing away any dirt and muck and rubbing ointment into the tender skin. His hands are soft and firm, strong and steady. He says nothing and makes no noise as Regulus discards the rag, only leaning a little closer. The two of them sink a little further into the bed, and eventually James gets a hand in his collar and pulls him down properly until they're lying down, sprawled just a tad lower than the pillow.
"This is your bed," Regulus says. "I can't…"
"You can go if you want to," James murmurs, already halfway to sleep. "But I'd like it if you stayed."
The bed isn't really big enough for this, and he wanted to change clothes. But nothing could move him. An entire mountain couldn't move him. No Siren could ever lure him from this bed, with James tucked under his chin, safe and breathing softly through his nose; this is precisely where he wants to be.
[Word Count: 5,773]