Chapter 20: Moaning Myrtle
Notes:
Hello hello!
I hope you're all having / have had a fantastic weekend!
TWs for this chapter
Mention of Regulus' addiction to his sleeping potions
Discussion of past death
Discussion of past attacks on children (related to the Chamber of Secrets)
Smoking
Sexual content in this chapter!
Discussions about bigotry and discrimination based on blood status
References / mentions of child abuse (Walburga's A Parenting)
Discussions about the ongoing magical war
That's it, I think!
I hope you enjoy :D
THANK YOU to everyone who loved Green Arrow Reggie as much as I did :D Your comments made my weekend 3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Regulus should quit while he's ahead. Honestly. He should. He got what he wanted. He knows what kissing James Potter feels like. Knows the sounds he makes when Regulus grazes the underside of his jaw with his teeth.
He knows what James' muscles feel like under his hands, even though there's always too much clothing between them. Regulus knows what James sounds like when he's coming, and the rush of power and sheer ecstasy that is knowing he's the one that caused it. That he can make it happen.
Mind-blowing, honestly.
Regulus should quit now, because he's on a high. He should quit now because there are three people who know, and that's three people too many. Sirius. Lupin. Dorcas. Dorcas hasn't had it confirmed, but she's too fucking smart and she picked up on it. Also because apparently James is obvious when he's looking at Regulus which, like, fine. Regulus likes it, because who doesn't? But it's fucking stupid and dangerous.
If Dorcas outright asks him again, Regulus won't be able to lie to her face.
Regulus should quit James now. It's the safest thing to do. The smart thing to do. It'll save him trouble, and possible complications.
But he won't, because he's addicted to James. He's addicted to how he makes him feel. To the way he looks at him. To the taste of his tongue and the way his lips mould to him. Regulus can't get enough, and he doesn't know how to quit. Part of him doesn't really want to. Much like his sleeping potions, he'll keep taking for as long as he can. Until something or someone comes and pries them from his cold hands.
Five months isn't long. This is what Regulus tells himself. He can have five months. He's earned five months. Hasn't he?
The library is deserted today, because it's Sunday and the day after Halloween so everyone is sleeping off their hangover. Perfect time for his research. No one will come bother him, and that's how Regulus likes it.
Regulus turns the corner and finds the shelf he's looking for. He stacks the book back where it belongs and sighs. This Tom Riddle is hard to find. He's annoyed by it, because how difficult could it be? Regulus did find the record of his attending Hogwarts, but it was just the entry in the log, next to the years he attended.
It isn't enough, and so far he has found little else.
But Regulus doesn't give up. He's going through family trees and other historical records, hoping to find the name Riddle somewhere.
He checks his pocket watch and sighs again. He has one hour before going to the roof to meet James. He should eat something, but he can't be bothered with the trip to the kitchens and he's most definitely not going to dinner because then he'll have to lie to his friends about where he's going afterwards.
Regulus decides to stay and read some more. He's putting a pin on the Tom Riddle research for now because he's frankly tired of failure. Instead, he looks for obituaries from the years Riddle was at school. If he can't find him, perhaps he can find the girl who died. Her family, anyway.
And after a short while of reading, his luck begins to turn.
Myrtle Warren.
Regulus knows her. He thinks. The name. It rings a bell. He sits down, writes it on a piece of paper and thinks. And thinks. He can't remember why it sounds familiar, but it does. It does.
Myrtle Warren.
A girl, murdered in school.
Why her? Regulus starts there, hoping it'll spark something. A memory, perhaps. Anything. He's a little desperate, because he's not used to only finding dead ends. 1943, a dead girl, Myrtle Warren. There's got to be something about it somewhere. Even if they swept it under the rug, something always slips through the cracks and Regulus is going to find it.
He goes through old newspapers. Finds a student run newsletter from the 40s. Reads through school logs. Anything he can find. And it's only when he stumbles across a handwritten note on a very worn copy of Hogwarts a History that he remembers.
Student death needs recording. Girl, Ravenclaw. Second floor bathroom. Chamber of Secrets?
Regulus frowns. Reads the note again. Obviously some wannabe historian making their own annotations like they matter… but wait.
Bathroom. Second floor.
Moaning Myrtle.
Regulus slumps back on his chair, runs a hand through his hair. This is brilliant. He doesn't even have to bother the girls' family because the girl is still around. Everyone knows to avoid that particular bathroom because she's always crying in there. Pandora went in once, thinking it was all an exaggeration, and came back deeply upset because the ghost didn't like her cheerful outlook on life.
Taking a moment to compose his thoughts, Regulus quickly tidies up his things and flees the library towards the second floor. He's got a bit of time before he has to go to the owlry, and he's done wasting it.
The door to the girls' bathroom creaks when he walks inside. He waits for a moment, but no one says anything. Moaning Myrtle is sniffling softly in her stall, so far unconcerned with the new presence in her bathroom.
Regulus looks around. It's obvious it's in disuse, which is fine with him. The bathroom doesn't smell, which is all he could ask for. The sinks have rusted, and the mirrors are covered in dust. He sees several reflections of himself as he walks further in. His hair is getting a little long. He should consider cutting it before his mother makes a big deal out of it when he's home for Christmas.
Salazar's socks, he can't believe Christmas is only two months away. Two, and then three, and then it's Easter. Regulus doesn't want it to be Christmas. Because that'll mean he's closer to the beginning of the end. But also, he can't stop time. Unfortunately.
Ah, hell. It'll be Christmas before he knows it, won't it?
It's a very bad time for his brain to ping him with an anxious thought that reads GIFT FOR JAMES? But Regulus is used to his brain hating him, so he simply forces that to the back of his head and focuses on the task at hand.
He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, make a plan. He wants this ghost to help him, so he's got to be cunning. Charming. Regulus fixes his hair, straightens his tie.
"Hello?" he asks, knocking on the door to Myrtle's stall.
"Who's there?" she yells.
"I just…" Regulus pauses. This girl is a ghost who died in a bathroom stall alone, and stayed back to haunt it. Regulus might not be very good with emotions in general, but sadness? He knows it well. And he's ready to bet that this ghost is fucking sad.
Regulus clears his throat, then goes for it. "I came in here to be alone, and I heard you. And you sound… are you alright?"
There's a pregnant pause, then. "Why did you want to be alone?"
Regulus could smile. It's in her voice, the longing. The wanting to bond over something. "I'm sad, too."
The door to the stall opens and Myrtle looks at him whilst wiping her tears. Regulus doesn't miss the way her hands fly to her hair, to fix it, when she sees him. Perhaps Dorcas is right, and he's a little handsome. Turns out good looks might be the only thing he has in common with his embarrassment of a brother.
"Hi," Regulus says to the ghost.
"Hi," she says, hovering over the toilet. She died in her school uniform, hair in two pigtails. Round glasses frame her face, obscuring eyes that are a bit swollen from all the crying. "I'm Myrtle."
"I'm Regulus."
"Why are you sad, Regulus?"
He sighs, leans against the door, arms crossed loosely over his chest. "My life is pretty shit."
Myrtle nods in sympathy, then glides out of her stall. "Do you want to sit?" She gestures to the floor under the mirrors, where there's a space of wall without sinks for them to rest their backs against.
"Sure," Regulus says, and follows the ghost.
They settle down side by side. Regulus keeps his knees up and puts his arms over them, doing his best to look relaxed and mildly depressed. First part is a little more challenging than the second. Sadness he's got experience with. Relaxation? Don't know her, sounds fake.
"Do you want to tell me why your life is shit?" Myrtle asks.
Regulus looks away, playing the part of shy. He runs a hand through his curls, then glances at Myrtle through his eyelashes. The ghost swoons.
"My mother is very difficult," Regulus says, spinning a fantasy that will make Myrtle take pity on him. The best lies are always laced with truth, so he uses what he knows. A bit of everything, all together, to paint himself a victim. "And there's a lot of pressure on me. Duties and stuff. I'm struggling to live up to it. And my brother hates me."
"Your brother is an idiot," Myrtle says immediately.
Regulus smirks. "You're not wrong."
"Why is there pressure on you? Do you want to talk about it?"
"Will you tell me why you're sad, too?" Regulus asks gently. "Is it… were you sad when you died? Or did someone upset you today?"
Myrtle lets out a long suffering sigh, then shakes her head. "I was so upset that day, honestly. This girl, Olive Hornby, she was being so mean to me. It was horrible. I was crying when I died. I've been crying since."
"Do you want me to hurt Olive, Myrtle? For you?" Regulus offers.
Myrtle stares at him like he's the King of England. She blushes, which Regulus is very impressed by because he didn't know a ghost could blush.
"Aw," she says, bashful. "She didn't kill me. She was mean, but I died because of a boy."
"Oh?"
"Yes," Myrtle tells him, noticing his interest and wanting to keep it. His attention. Regulus feels a little guilty at duping the poor ghost so thoroughly, but not enough to stop himself from leaning a little closer.
"Well. I was in there crying, in the stall. And I heard this boy say something weird, like in another language? And then I came out to tell him he had to leave. It's a girl's bathroom! And I saw these huge yellow eyes… and that was it. I was dead."
Regulus turns her words over in his head. He looks around the bathroom, but fails to see anything out of the ordinary. "Have you lived in here since?"
"No," Myrtle replies. "At first, I haunted Olive. She deserved it."
"Of course she did," Regulus is quick to add. "I hope you made her life hell for as long as possible."
This earns him a smile from Myrtle, who pours more information on him as a reward. "Right. I did! I haunted her around the castle. It was a difficult year, because muggle-borns kept being attacked by some creature. And then, someone was expelled for it and it all stopped."
Regulus' eyebrows fly up. "Attacked?"
"Petrified," Myrtle says. "Like a full body bind curse, except it wasn't a curse. It took the specialists at St Mungo's a while to bring them back to normal."
Regulus' brain is whirling. He feels this is all important, he just doesn't know how. What it means. He sighs, lets his head fall back against the wall. "You know. I love mysteries and puzzles," he says casually. "It would help distract me from my shit life if I had something to do. Do you know anything else about what happened? Maybe I can look into it?"
"There's no need," Myrtle says. "They expelled the one responsible. Rubeus Hagrid. Him and his pet monster were kicked out of the school."
Regulus is about to blurt that he's the Gamekeeper, but decides against it at the last minute. He's not sure Myrtle is aware, and it is perhaps wise not to upset her. Regulus knows little of Hagrid, but whenever he's seen him, dangerous and murderous are not things he's thought about him. Sure, he's huge, but that's hardly enough evidence of evil.
There's no doubt that Hagrid isn't Voldemort. So, his original theory that the murderer might be him has been dismantled. Unless Hagrid is a scapegoat.
In any case, Regulus has a new name to look into. He's smart enough to realise he cannot simply rock up and ask Hagrid about this. Regardless of whether he's guilty or innocent, this is not something he'll want to talk about. So, Regulus is going to have to find another way to get his information. But a lead is a lead, and this is a win. He's taking it.
"I see," he says. He looks at Myrtle, gives her his best half smile. "I'll have to find something else to keep me distracted, then. I'm interested in the story of the school. The obscure facts that aren't written in books."
"Perhaps I can help," Myrtle offers, eager. "I can talk to other ghosts. A lot of us have lived in the school for a long time."
Regulus nods. "You're too nice, Myrtle," he flatters her. "That would be quite interesting. I know you weren't a Slytherin, but since it's my house, I'm most curious about it. Perhaps you can ask around about notorious students from my house? Any gossip is welcome."
Myrtle beams. "Oh this is so much fun," she says. She glides over, closer to Regulus. "I'll start right away. Will you come see me tomorrow?"
Regulus looks at her, does his best to channel some of the softness James brings in him. "Tomorrow I've got tutoring with Slughorn after school, but Tuesday. I will come Tuesday afternoon."
Myrtle beams, then quite bravely darts forward and presses a quick and featherlight kiss on Regulus' cheek. He's so startled he doesn't even have time to react before she's gliding away, muttering to herself about which ghosts she's going to approach first. Regulus isn't thrown into a spiral because ghosts don't feel like people, so Regulus only felt a light brush of cold. He's used to the cold, is intimate with it. So, a touch from Myrtle doesn't set him off, which is good to know. Perhaps he can use her apparent infatuation with him to his advantage even more.
Rather nonsensically, Regulus wonders if James would feel betrayed. It strikes Regulus that he has no idea what parameters they're working under, and he immediately feels the need to discuss it. Because if James thinks… if James is… he's not seeing anyone else. Right? Fuck.
Regulus jumps to his feet
It's raining, which is annoying because James can't see Regulus just sitting in the rain with him for hours. James would do it, but Regulus won't. He's a bit fussy like that. James likes it, but it's inconvenient right this second.
He's nervous, so he's pacing the owlry while he waits for Regulus to show up. Remus has barely spoken a word to him all day, shooting him strange glances every now and then. He has kept his word and not mentioned the incident to anyone. Not even Sirius. This might have something to do with Adaline rather than James' request to keep it to himself, but James will take the win.
James wants to know what Remus is thinking, but he doesn't dare ask. He can't hear it. He won't. Because Remus doesn't trust Regulus, and very clearly thinks he might be a Death Eater one day. And James just can't. His brain refuses to accept this as a possibility, because it would mean the end. Honestly? James can't see an end to this. Doesn't want to, perhaps. He needs Regulus like he needs air—there's no good reason for it other than without it he feels like he's dying.
James doesn't want to ever be without Regulus. So. Remus has to be wrong. Except Remus is never wrong, is he?
Fuck. James is losing his mind.
Regulus shows up a few minutes late, and frowns when he finds James in the actual owlry rather than on the roof. He's wearing that large green jumper again. Silver rings on his fingers, curls falling over his ears. James wants to swallow him whole.
This is the problem. James is drawn to Regulus like a moth to a flame, and he knows he can get burnt, but for some inexplicable reason, James doesn't care. He'll burn for Regulus, hot and bright, and forever.
"Why are you here?" Regulus asks, glancing at the window.
"It's pouring," James replies, eyes flicking to the night beyond the window where they climb up to the roof.
Regulus walks over and sticks his hand out, then back in. He dries his palm against his trousers. James chuckles. "Couldn't you just take my word for it?"
"Trust, but verify," Regulus replies, haughtily. "We can't stay here. Someone could come."
James hasn't come up with a suitable alternative yet, but for a one off, he knows a passage that will do. It's wide enough for them to sit face to face, legs tangled. Which works for James. He's positive no one but him and his friends know of it, and there's no reason for the Marauders to go into Hogsmeade on a Sunday evening, so it won't be used tonight.
"I know somewhere we can go," James says. "It's not a permanent solution, but for today it'll do. If you don't mind sitting on the ground?
Regulus wrinkles his nose like he'd rather not, a glimpse of the standards he has by nature of his upbringing and name. Apparently, Regulus comes to the independent decision that he prefers sitting on the ground to not spending time with James tonight, because eventually he nods.
James gives him instructions. "It's on the fourth floor, near the infirmary. There's a large mirror on the corridor. I'm assuming you'd rather we make our separate ways there, so just meet me there in fifteen minutes?"
Regulus nods. "I'll go first."
He disappears the same way he came, moving quietly and stealthily. James gives him a head start, but not much because Regulus doesn't know but he's got an invisibility cloak so it's not like anyone will see them together anyway.
Using the map, James tracks Regulus through the castle. He's sneaky, and seems to know a few tricks of his own, like the small secret corridor between the tapestry right outside the bridge that cuts directly to the fifth floor. James follows him through it, then waits at the stop of the stairs as Regulus descends to the fourth floor.
James checks the map to make sure no one is around, then hides his cloak in the empty space at the feet of a statue before joining Regulus in front of the mirror.
"Well?" Regulus asks, glancing around with quick eyes. James can tell he's nervous because they're exposed.
He taps his wand against the mirror and it swings outwards, revealing the passage. It's dark, but spacious. A little damp, because this is Scotland and humidity is a thing that exists, unfortunately. But it's empty, and quiet, and private-ish. Not very romantic, if he's honest, but it is not raining inside of it, so. It'll have to do. Regulus slips inside without a word, and James follows.
The mirror closes behind them, shrouding the passage in darkness. James can hear Regulus' breathing—a little less calm than it should be. It makes James anxious in turn, because he doesn't know why Regulus is nervous. Is it because of what happened with Remus yesterday? Is it simply because he's alone in the dark with James? That shouldn't make him nervous, should it? Perhaps Regulus thinks James brought him here to do something untoward.
James has had many untoward thoughts about Regulus, but he'd never do anything he didn't want to do. He hopes Regulus knows this. But perhaps he hasn't communicated well enough?
Whatever it is, James doesn't like it because he doesn't want Regulus to be nervous around him. He wants Regulus to feel safe. Happy. The same way James feels with him.
"I'll get a light on," James says, raising his wand.
"Don't," Regulus replies, softer than James was expecting. "Not yet."
James lowers the wand and waits. He can't see anything, because this is a tunnel inside the walls of a castle. There are no windows, no openings. The air is a little stale, tastes of earth and dust. It smells a little like moisture, because, you know, Scotland and rain. James imagines water seeps through the walls when the storms are bad.
Suddenly, there's a hand on James' chest and all thoughts of the weather promptly evacuate his brain.
"Reg?"
A finger finds his mouth and presses against it, asking James to be quiet. James folds. Nods so Regulus can feel he's agreeing to whatever this is. Regulus moves closer, the hand on James' chest sliding up to his shoulder. Their feet bump into each other, so James shuffles to make room for Regulus to stand between his legs, and he does.
"How's the shoulder?" Regulus asks.
James feels his breath on his neck. It makes him swallow hard. "Good as new."
"That's good," Regulus says softly.
"Do you… ehm… we should maybe talk? About Remus?" James tries.
Regulus' fingers, which were exploring the nape of James' neck and tangling with his hair, still. "Later," Regulus says.
"Okay," James replies, because he's hopeless and helpless. Whatever Regulus wants, Regulus gets. Especially when he's this close to him. "Later, then."
Regulus uses the hand on the back of James' neck to bring him down, crashing their lips together. Briefly, James thinks that something isn't as it should be, and that this kiss is bruising and desperate. Almost like Regulus wants to get it all now. But then Regulus' tongue is in his mouth, and James loses the ability to think about anything.
All he can do is feel. Regulus' mouth, his hands roaming over his body, his curls in James' fingers. Regulus shifts his hips and they meet, and they both groan. James can't help himself, so he presses his body closer to Regulus and is rewarded with another sound from Regulus' throat that he swallows between kisses.
James' hand travels from Regulus' hair down his torso, until it's ghosting the outline of Regulus' crotch. "Is this okay?" James asks.
Regulus takes the break in kissing as an opportunity to bite him gently, right where his jaw meets his neck. James' head spins, and he gasps weakly. Then, Regulus is pushing his hips forward into James' waiting hand, and James gets the message.
It's a good thing that Remus told James to take things as they came. Slow. Step by step. Because what the fuck was he thinking asking for tips about sex when the feeling of Regulus' hardness through his trousers is enough to make James want to come undone? He would be embarrassed if he wasn't feeling Regulus' equally over the top reaction.
And perhaps that's what makes it so good. Better than anything James has ever done with anyone. Because he's on the last threads of control after a few kisses, but Regulus is on the exact same boat. They react to each other like potion ingredients stirred together. Blending, augmenting, enhancing the other to produce a reaction powerful enough to heal.
It's a wonderful thought.
James puts a bit more pressure with his hand and tentatively moves it up and down. Regulus whimpers, and then he's kissing James again and pushing him roughly. James' back hits the wall and he's very on board with Regulus taking charge.
Regulus' fingers find the waistband of James' trousers and James has to focus to prevent having an accident way too soon. He's not sure where this is going, but he is going wherever it is. Regulus opens James' belt, then pauses at the button. Waits.
James breaks the kiss and dips his head to trail his tongue over Regulus' throat. "Yes," James says. "Fuck. Yes."
Regulus growls, dark and from deep in his chest, and it's the sexiest sound James has ever heard in his life. His trousers fall to his ankles, and James feels self-conscious for the split second it takes Regulus to locate him in the dark. What if he's not enough? What if he's too much? Perhaps Regulus doesn't like this as much as James does. But then Regulus' fingers are curling around him, and Regulus is touching him, and James can't even focus on kissing anymore because he's become a mess of incoherence.
His head hits the wall behind him with a thud, and all James can do is let out a string of curses and encouragement, and some filth, too, because he can't help himself and when he's very turned on he says things he probably shouldn't.
But Regulus seems to like it. He bites James' neck, and sucks the skin there in a way that makes James wonder if there'll be a mark tomorrow. And he keeps touching James. It is, perhaps, not the most technically proficient experience, but it is hands down the hottest. The best he's ever had.
"Reg," James pants. "I'm going to… I… your hand."
"I don't care," Regulus says, then ups his pace just enough for James to cry out and simply let go.
James' breathing is erratic, and his body feels boneless. He's only half-conscious, he thinks, or perhaps his brain is just blissed out. That was amazing.
Sloppily, James reaches for Regulus in the dark and pulls him in for a kiss. He can't see anything, so he accidentally kisses his nose first. Regulus makes a noise of protest, but James finds his mouth, and then he's kissing him desperately, hoping it can tell Regulus all the things James can't put into words right now.
His trousers are still down by his ankles, and he's vaguely aware of the hand Regulus keeps out of reach, but it doesn't matter. None of it matters because they're here, together, and it's so fucking good James doesn't want to do this with anyone else ever again.
Urgently, importantly, James also wants Regulus to feel as good if not better. James attacks his neck with his best technique and is rewarded by another whimper from the green eyed boy. It's not easy with his pants around his ankles, but James manoeuvres them around until it's Regulus against the wall. They're kissing again, and James' hand flits down to where it was before.
"You don't have to," Regulus says.
"But I want to," James replies earnest. "I really fucking want to. Is that okay?"
Regulus' breath hitches. "Oui."
Merlin's beard on fire, this kid is going to kill him.
James makes quick work of his belt and button, and then Regulus' trousers are also down by his ankles, and James remembers the doubt that crept inside of him earlier, so he doesn't hesitate for a single moment. He closes his fist over Regulus and the other boy moans in a way that makes James get half-hard again.
For a brief second, James has the thought that he isn't sure how to do this to another person, but well. He's a teenage boy and has been doing this to himself for years. So, he tries the things he like the most, and pays attention to how Regulus reacts. He catalogues every little sound and twitch of his body, memorizing them for later use. James is determined to make this so good for Regulus he never wants to do it with anyone else, either.
"James," Regulus pants, breathing hard and heavy and messy. "Kiss me."
James does, carefully adjusting his body so he can keep using his hand without disrupting his rhythm. They kiss, and it's passionate and a little dirty. Regulus moans into his mouth, and James ups his pace.
Regulus breaks the kiss abruptly, and James knows he's going to warn him, but he doesn't care, either. So, he says, "Yes, Reg. For me." And then kisses him again so he can swallow the sounds Regulus makes as he goes liquid against the wall, pinned there by James' body.
They stay there for a moment, clinging to each other and breathing. Being. Happy and relaxed in the aftermath.
"Lumos," Regulus whispers. The light of his wand blooms between them, and James gets to see his flushed cheeks, his swollen lips, the twinkle in his eyes.
Regulus is so beautiful looking at him should be a sin.
"Here," James says, and casts a cleaning spell on his hand, then reaches for Regulus'. He repeats the spell, and then they're both clean, but the air in the passage retains a bit of the taste of it all, and James thinks he could go again right now, if Regulus was up for it.
Their eyes meet, and James can tell Regulus is up for it, but also, he looks resigned. Like he knows something James doesn't, and it's killing the mood. It makes sense, then, why Regulus wanted to do this first.
Judging from the severe expression overcoming Regulus, James doesn't think they'll do it after they talk, and James hates the idea. He doesn't want anything to come between them. But also, Regulus' face, while still flushed and a little lustful, is determined.
"It's later," James says with a resigned sigh.
Regulus nods, then slides down the wall and comes to sit on the ground, knees bent up. James sits next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Regulus wand is on the ground between them, illuminating their small bubble.
He lights a cigarette, takes a long drag. And James can't take the tense silence anymore.
"Look," James says. "I'm sorry about Remus. He was freaking out, and we'd just been attacked, and—"
"He only wants to protect you," Regulus says, cutting him off. "I respect that."
"Oh. Okay."
There's silence again. Regulus smokes and James wishes he could just start a silly conversation about literally anything. He wants to ask Regulus random stuff like his favourite colour or book. What he likes to do on Sunday mornings. His favourite song again, because James still hasn't figured out which one it is and hasn't been able to try to listen to it. Not that it's easy to get a record player to work in Hogwarts because there's no electricity, something James knows thanks to Regulus. Anyway. Point is, James would like to just talk about literally anything but the darkness now looming over them.
War. And sides. Dark marks and choices.
James doesn't want to know, but a part of him tells him he has to.
"Go on, James. Ask," Regulus says, and he sounds bitter. "Just fucking ask."
James doesn't want to. He doesn't, because if he gets the wrong answer he'll have to leave and he doesn't want to do that, either. James wants to do what he was just doing again. With Regulus. Every day. Several times a day, if possible. That's all he wants. He doesn't want to think of wars, or of sides. Right and wrong.
He knows the world is in a dark place, and that bad things are happening. And he's doing his part, isn't he? He's joined the Order. He's training with them—just this morning he was in Hogsmeade with an auror the Order sent. He's going to fight as soon as he graduates. Isn't that enough? He'll do whatever he has to. He'll learn to not hesitate, if it comes to that.
But giving Regulus up?
James isn't sure he could. He just… doesn't want to even consider it.
"I don't think I will," James says calmly. "Your arm is clean. I've seen it. I know you didn't lie to Remus. That's enough."
"Is it?"
"I don't want to know," James says. He sounds childish, but he just doesn't care. He wants to keep this, and if he has to overlook a few things… he's willing.
Godric have mercy on him. What is wrong with James? He shouldn't be thinking this way. But he can't help it. He can't help it.
Regulus laughs, but it's not the elegant, graceful sound. This is brittle, like bones. "You don't want to know," he mutters, takes another drag of his cigarette. "But you should know, because I know. I know what side of the war you'll be on, and I'm still here. It's only fair if you know, too."
James feels cold all over. He wants to scream. No. No. Doesn't want to hear it. But Regulus has said it now, and James can't turn back time. "Does that mean you're… that you…? You will get it?" he can't bring himself to saying it.
Regulus sighs. "It's complicated. For me."
And this, oh. James can do complicated. Complicated is his favourite challenge. It's better than a resounding yes. Complicated implies doubt, and that's hope, and James is a fucking expert in hoping. "How so?"
"Well. I personally don't think muggle borns should be dealt with in any way. They're people. No better, no worse," Regulus says. "But that's not all there is to it. So."
James can't stop himself. He launches his body to the side, knocking into Regulus, and kisses him. It's sloppy, he caught him at a bad angle, and there's a moment of pure, slippery mess. But James doesn't care. Regulus just voiced it out loud. He's not a blood supremacist. James could punch the wall and come out the other side from how powerful he feels.
When they break the kiss, Regulus shakes his head. He's breathless, and his cheeks are pink. So lovely.
"You're getting ahead of yourself," he says. "I'm still not—"
"You already told me you're not a good person. I know. Horrible things, blah blah," James reminds him. Regulus' eyebrows shoot up, because James doesn't usually mock Regulus. Except, he isn't mocking him. Not really. He's just… this is a difficult conversation and James is doing his best, okay?
James takes a breath. "Look, I'm not an idiot, Regulus. You… ehm. There's like a vibe about you. Dangerous, Remus called you last night and he's right. I can see that. I mean, you did drop me from a broom, amongst other things," James says, and Regulus' lips twitch with amusement. "But if you have to do bad shit for the right reasons, and not because you're a bigot who's prejudiced and irredeemable, well. I can live with that."
"I can still do awful shit without being a bigot. And you'll think my reasons aren't good enough."
"Same could happen with me," James says softly. "War makes people do bad stuff all the time. So, I can accept that. I don't have to like it. I don't. But I can accept it. But if you… I… if you'd been. You know."
"Like my family?"
"Yeah," James says. "Then I don't think I could have… I would have had to go. But I didn't want to. If you were full of hatred for people because of their blood. I'm so glad you aren't, Reg. I'm so fucking glad."
Regulus drops a quick kiss on James' shoulder, then looks up at him again. "I'm nothing like my family in a lot of ways," Regulus says frankly. "But I'm also a lot like them in others."
James sighs, then runs a hand over his face. "So, you don't hate muggle borns and you're gay. Are those the key ones?"
Regulus chuckles. "Pretty much? I also think blood purity in general is bullshit. It only leads to inbreeding which weakens the bloodline, rather than strengthening it. It's a miracle Sirius and I aren't cursed with something."
James starts at Regulus' casual mention of Sirius. It's the first time he's heard him say his name, and James would like to prod, but he realises that it's too much. One conversation at a time. This is an important one. The one about his brother will have to wait.
"It's nice to hear you say that," James tells him softly.
Regulus shrugs, puts out his cigarette on the ground. "It still doesn't make me good, James. You have to understand that."
James nods. There's a lot to unpack there. He knows enough about the Black family to understand what Regulus is telling him. And James isn't too surprised. He saw Regulus choke Dolohov and Snape when a simple stunning spell would have sufficed. He's got a cruel streak. Fine. He's also most likely proficient in the dark arts. Not ideal, but at this point James is willing to overlook pretty much anything.
Regulus also stood by and let Sirius take punishments that were for him. This is harder to swallow, but also. James knew this, and he still chased Regulus, so it'd be a little hypocritical to pretend like it matters now. It certainly didn't matter twenty minutes ago when they were making out in the dark.
Same about the fact that Regulus said no when Sirius asked him to run away with him. James knew these things. He's known all along that there are parts of Regulus that are dark and twisted. Things James doesn't know, or share, or could really be on board with. And despite it all, James likes him anyway.
"You said you knew what side I was going to be on," James says. "But I haven't told you. Most people think I'm going pro in quidditch."
"So, you won't fight then?" Regulus challenges him.
"No. I mean, I will. I… you know. It's the right thing to do."
The expression on Regulus' face is hard to read when he says, "and if I asked you to stay away? To not get involved. Would you?"
"I… Reg," James hesitates. "You can't ask that of me."
"I want to," Regulus says. He puts his hands on James' face and brings their foreheads together. "The thought of you being in danger makes me want to burn the world to ashes."
James' breath falters, and he hates himself a little for how it makes him feel. Regulus shouldn't say things like that. "That's wrong, Reg. I'm not worth more than anyone else. My life isn't worth more."
"To me you are."
James needs to stop Regulus being so fucking earnest in his declarations or he'll damn it all to hell and rip their clothes off. Seriously. His heart is a wild thing, beating like a horse against the inside of his ribs so strongly they'll be bruised tomorrow. Does Regulus realise what he's saying to James? What it means?
It takes more effort than it should, but James finds his voice and says, "You can't stack my life against everyone else's, Reg. You just can't. It's wrong. It's selfish."
Secretly, frighteningly, James likes it. He wants Regulus to be selfish about him. To choose James all the time. Above everything and anything else. What does that make him?
"That's why you are the hero," Regulus says. "And I'm the villain."
"What do you mean? You're not—"
"I would absolutely, one hundred percent without hesitation kill everyone in this castle if it meant you'd be safe and with me," Regulus says viciously. "But you? You would sacrifice me if it meant saving the world."
"I wouldn't. I couldn't. Not you," James protests, breathless. Would he? Could he? He doesn't want to think about it. Can't. Won't.
Regulus kisses him. James falls into it headfirst, kissing him back with everything he has. When they break apart, Regulus whispers. "I t's okay. I always knew you were a hero. I hate you a little for it, too."
"Reg…"
"I won't ask you to stay away," Regulus says matter-of-factly. "At least not now. But remember that you can't ask it of me, either. You have your reasons. And I would like for you to fucking leave the country until the war is over. If it were up to me, I'd put you in a cage in my basement and keep you where I could see you. Safe. But I can't do that. I won't. So, you can't do it to me, either."
James blinks, surprised by the vehemence of Regulus' outburst. Once again, his body is responding to Regulus' possessiveness in a way that's wildly inappropriate. James is beginning to think something's deeply wrong with him. But the conversation is too important, so he forces himself to ask, "Does that mean you're going to fight? With the Death Eaters?"
"I might," Regulus says.
James holds on to that. Might isn't will. There's a chance. Regulus still has a choice. And James thinks that perhaps he can help him make the right one. Besides, Regulus has another year left of school and who knows? The war might be over when he graduates. It's a flimsy hope, but it's a hope nonetheless. And James takes it and folds it into his heart to keep it safe.
"Why?"
"I have my reasons," Regulus says. "I won't tell you them. But know they're not bigotry. That, at least, I can give you."
"But maybe you don't have to fight, right? Maybe you can get—"
"Don't try to save me, James," Regulus warns him.
"I'm not—"
"You were thinking it," Regulus says. "And I told you I don't want you to. I don't need you to save me." There's a pause, and then Regulus looks at him, smiles sadly. "And you're going to try anyway, aren't you? Because you're too good."
"And you're not, so you'll do horrible things?" James can't help himself. He shouldn't want to hear it, but he does. He does. Because doesn't that mean that Regulus will have to be on his side? How can he keep James safe if he's the enemy?
Regulus leans forward and presses a kiss against James' shoulder again. Gentle. Tender. "I will. And you'll hate me for it."
James shakes his head. "Don't be absurd." He puts his arm over Regulus shoulders and brings him closer against him. Regulus allows it. "I could never hate you."
"Never say never, James," Regulus says. "There's a war, and we'll be pulled in opposite directions by it whether we want it or not."
James feels irrationally stubborn. Like. Just no. It's very simple. He won't hate Regulus. Ever. No matter what. Because he's not a blood supremacist, and that's enough. He can be a bad person. Be a bit cruel. He's had a shit life, alright? Regulus is a product of Grimmauld Place and that's… well.
"Are you still in Grimmauld Place?" James asks him. "Still with her?"
Regulus looks up at him, through his curls and his lashes. "Yes."
"And are you… does she… is she hurting you?" James swallows, braces himself for the answer. He doesn't know what he will do if he says yes. The idea that someone could hurt Regulus… it breaks James' heart.
He remembers Sirius. The day he showed up on his doorstep. The darkness that almost consumed him. It ate the light in him, coating every inch of his soul in shadows. It pulsed with hatred. With the need for revenge. He wanted nothing more than to apparate to Grimmauld Place and obliterate it. Burn it to ashes.
And isn't that what Regulus just said? Does that mean he could be a villain, too? James doesn't know. He doesn't want to find out because he's scared of the darkness. That's the difference between them, isn't it. That Regulus embraces, and James is terrified of it.
"Reg? Does she hurt you?" James asks again, and the tone of his voice is low and gravelly.
Regulus smirks like he's enjoying the fury emanating from James' every pore. "I like this," Regulus says, reaching upwards to bite James' earlobe. "Angry James."
James shakes his head. "Tell me. Does she hurt you?"
Regulus relents, sits back. "Haven't you heard? I'm the perfect son. Why would she hurt the perfect son?"
"Don't joke about this, please," James begs.
"She doesn't hurt me," Regulus says, shrugging. "She's cruel, because that's all she knows to be. But she doesn't hurt me. I'm her only heir. The one who does it all right. She doesn't touch me."
The tension eases out of him, leaking out with every exhale and leaving him a little tired. "Come back here," he says, opening his arm. Regulus snuggles against his chest again. "The perfect son?"
"Yup."
James laughs, and Regulus bounces a little on his chest with the strength of it. "Oh, she has no idea, does she?"
"Sirius always got it wrong," Regulus says, nuzzling in closer, deeper into James' chest. "He was loud in his rebellion. Making a big show of it. Red and gold everywhere, terrible music, posters of half naked women on his walls. I'm not an idiot like him. I play by her rules, and then move my pieces when nobody's watching."
James smiles against the crown of Regulus' head. "Why do you stay, if you're not like them? Why don't you just leave?"
Regulus shifts, and sits up. He's now between James' legs, torso twisted so he can look at him.
"I don't want to leave," he says, and there's a serious undertone to this statement, like he doesn't want James to push him on it. "I'm rich, and have influence. My family is respected and pure blooded, so we're not in any danger. I have access to knowledge that I want and need. There's no reason to leave. I'm the Heir to the House of Black, James. I like that. It's mine, and it means something."
"We'll never be able to do this in public if you stay forever," James says. "Only in the shadows. Never in the sun."
It makes James sad, because a part of him wants to be able to just have that cottage with the fire, and the sofa, and the lush carpet. Regulus reading a book between his legs and James enjoying the quiet. But if Regulus wants to be the Lord of the House of Black… well. What does that mean for James? And it's too soon for James to be thinking about that, because they've only just started this. But he's so certain of it. So sure of what he feels for Regulus.
"You don't listen, do you?" Regulus asks, leaning closer until his mouth is pressed against James'. "Never say never, James."
The night when they meet behind the mirror for the first time Regulus doesn't get any sleep. None. He doesn't take his potion, because he doesn't have more than one dose and he won't waste it. He can tell there's no way he'll succumb to sleep with just one dose. It's not enough. Not with all the things James said running through his head at one hundred miles per hour.
He tosses and turns in his bed, remembering.
I could never hate you.
Regulus tried. He did. Lupin's accusation was an opening he couldn't, in good conscience—because apparently he's got one of those when it comes to James now—not try. So, he told James what he could, tried to make him see that they are doomed. That Regulus is a Black, despite everything or perhaps because of it.
He'll rise and claim his house title and wield his power in the name of vengeance and he'll enjoy it. He told James the war will put them at odds. That Regulus is who he is and he's not ashamed because the only thing he's got left is embracing his mess.
Regulus has issues. This is a fact, and it's okay, he thinks. Because the fact that he's still functioning, moving forward, pursuing a goal despite all the shit life has thrown at him is impressive. Regulus chooses to believe it is.
So. Issues. He's broken. He's cold. He's emotionally constipated, if Dorcas is to be believed. Dorcas is usually right, so Regulus does believe it. He doesn't trust anyone, possibly because his older brother left him in a house that they never called a home with a woman whose idea of parenting involves torture, starvation, and isolation. He's angry a lot of the time, most of the time. His fury runs cold, so it keeps him focused and committed, but it's there.
Regulus is darkness, and James is light. And Regulus tried his best to tell James that he's not good for him. Regulus will break James, one way or another. He'll either taint him with his darkness, or he'll hurt him when the clock runs out.
Perhaps both. James is already falling into the dark side a little bit, because Regulus saw that flicker of meanness in James' eyes when he got angry. And Regulus isn't surprised that he finds it hot as hell, because like calls to like and Regulus is nothing but shadows and fury. Cold and bones and pain.
But that's not James. James is warmth and trust and joy. He's wholesomeness personified and as much as Regulus lusts after an angry James, it's not who he is. And if Regulus keeps doing this…
He tried to tell James. That he'll end up hurting him. It's inevitable. It's coming.
Five months, and it all goes up in flames.
But James. Fucking James. He barrels on, pushes through. He doesn't care. He found one good thing about Regulus—that he's not a blood purist—and ran with that, ignoring everything else. And yes, perhaps Regulus could try harder. But he's not an idiot. And the selfish side of him that wants and wants and wants to the beat of James Potter's breathing wins every time. Regulus wants to keep James, even if it corrupts him. Even if it breaks him. Regulus wants James for himself, for as long as he can, and if James insists on ignoring Regulus' warnings… well.
Regulus will keep taking for as long as James is giving or until Easter comes. Whichever happens first.
Notes:
Very Jegulus centric this chapter and I'm not sorry about it!!
Regulus flirting a little bit with Myrtle to get what he wants? MY LITTLE KING HEARD DORCAS CALL HIM PRETTY AND SAID "ONE MORE WEAPON IN MY ARSENAL'
And James? Oh my baby. Regulus already knows him so well: James heard one good thing and ran with it. YES HE DID. Full pelt ahead. Regulus is waving red flags and James is just... 'These flags can't stop me because I'm colour blind' HELP HE'S SO PRECIOUS
I hope you enjoyed!! Updating on Tuesday :D