The 64 chapter one

by Bossey

Remover

5. 5

Chapter 5: Rainbows

Summary:

He's here.

Regulus Black is here.

He doesn't look happy about it, all scowls and narrowed eyes, but he's here. Godric Fucking Gryffindor. He's so beautiful it hurts to look at him. The bonfire's flickering flames cast shadows that dance and catch on the angles of Regulus' face, throwing the cut of his jaw or the straight line of his nose into stark contrast.

James' chest is suddenly tight, like it's made of rubber stretched too far. His hands are shaking a little.

Notes:

Hello everyone!

TWs

Homophobia

Infirmary scene so there's talk of medicine and wounds, nothing graphic just... James burnt his hands in the previous chapter

Underage drinking

Underage smoking (cigarettes)

People joke about murder

Jealousy

I think that's it! Enjoy :)

PS - if you see a typo no you didn't!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Regulus, Evan, Barty and Dorcas walk into the Great Hall for breakfast just like any other morning. Few people pay them attention, save for a few girls who can't seem to decide who to ogle. Evan and Barty have always caught people's eyes, but Regulus getting this kind of scrutiny is new. He doesn't like, and not just because he isn't interested in girls.

He needs to remain as inconsequential as possible. It's important to the success of his plan. Of course, he's factored in that there's an element of attention he gets simply by being who he is—Regulus Black, the only heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black—but other than that, he tries to go unnoticed. Girls fawning over him is inconvenient.

They find seats towards the end of the table, and its pure chance that it's near Dorcas' dorm mates. Everything seems to be fine, which strikes Regulus as odd. He expected something to have happened already. Unless… hmm.

He leans towards Dorcas, who's trying to check someone at another table out. Regulus doesn't try to figure out who. That information belongs to Dorcas and Dorcas alone. If she wants to tell him, she will.

He tilts his head close to hers and whispers. "How early did you wake up today?"

Dorcas looks at him funny, but replies anyway. "Before dawn. I wanted to be out before they woke up."

Regulus' hands curl into fists under the table. "You barely slept, then."

It's not a question, but Dorcas answers like it is. "I did. A few hours. I'm fine, Reg."

Barty and Evan lean closer, wanting to get involved in the conversation. "What's got him so irritated so early?" Evan asks, gesturing towards Regulus with his head.

His friends know Regulus isn't a morning person, which means he doesn't engage in anything until at least their third period. The fact that he's this pissed off at this hour is testament to how much he cares about what the girls are doing to Dorcas. He won't allow it.

"Oh, nothing," Dorcas says. "I'm having a bit of a disagreement with my roommates."

Barty immediately shoots the girls a few seats up on the opposite side of the table a dirty look and mumbles under his breath that Dorcas needs only say the word and he'll create a distraction. One of them, whose name Regulus doesn't remember, happens to be looking their way when he does. She immediately turns to whisper furiously to their friends.

"We'll hide the body," Evan comments, also glaring in their direction.

"What body?"

"The one Reg will leave in his wake, of course," Barty says like it's the most normal thing.

Regulus almost smiles. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"We could do it together," Barty muses. "Could be fun. Right Reg?"

The smiles he gives him is a little odd, and Regulus can't tell if it's Barty's brand of insanity or something else. Either way, he has no time to waste on it because Dorcas is trying (and failing) to act like she's not touched by this display of loyalty.

"Nobody is killing anyone. It's fine," she says. "They're just a bit bitchy, that's all. No need to get worked up about it."

Regulus watches the girls. Their cruel smirks as they look at Dorcas, who's unconsciously moved a bit closer to Barty. Blair, the girl Dorcas had a crush on, slides out of her seat and walks down. The others follow her in a pathetic display of sheep-like behaviour.

"Hello Barty," Blair says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Are you going to the party tonight?"

Barty, who has no idea why there's drama with Dorcas but will never not be loyal to his friends, looks at her like she's an insect. "Don't talk to me. Not interested."

For some reason, he glances at Evan first, then at Regulus when he says this. He puts his arm protectively around Dorcas. "Get lost," Barty says.

And Regulus sees the moment Blair decides to ruin Dorcas' life to get back at her because Barty has just rejected her in public. Regulus sits back so he can watch.

"You're wasting your time with her, Crouch," Blair says, savouring the words like she's enjoying it. "You see, Meadowes here is a—"

The word gets stuck in her throat, almost like it's choking her. She tries to breathe past it, visibly struggling for a few seconds before her eyes widen and her hand flies up to her hair. The first sound that comes out of her mouth is a cry of pain. Her friends gasp behind her. A streak of bright purple has shot through her hair, thick and impossible to hide. Blair is shrieking, freaking out.

"What just happened? Why is? What's…" She then turns murderous eyes on Dorcas. "What did you do, you disgusting—"

Same thing happens. The word lodges in her throat, choking her, just as a streak of blue shoots through her hair, perfectly aligned with the purple. Blair cries out, because Regulus made sure it would burn when the colours sprout from her head. If he got it right, that's hurting Blair like someone's peeling the skin off her scalp.

Dorcas stares, eyes wide. Her face is so genuinely shocked, so horrified, that there is no doubt to anyone watching the proceedings that she had nothing to do with this. Regulus can confirm, because this was all him. Blair should be grateful. He would have been a lot crueller if he weren't keeping a low profile. Second week of school isn't the right time to get himself expelled.

"What is this!?" Blair shrieks again. "My hair!"

One of her friends steps forward, valiantly trying to finish what her little Queen Bee started. "I'll say it, then. We all know that Meadows is a—"

Chaos ensues. The moment that the rest of the girls see the purple shoot through the second head, they lose all intention of outing Dorcas or even helping Blair and the other girl. The posey retreats, leaving Blair and her sidekick. There's screaming, crying. Dramatic antics that would give Regulus a headache were he not responsible for this. He's rather enjoying it.

"What did you do?" Blair insists, careful now not to hint at anything that might make her gasp for air or give her head a third colour.

Dorcas shakes her head. "I had nothing to do with this."

Barty looks at Regulus, and he shrugs casually. Understanding, then a hungry glean flash through Barty's eyes. He was always one to appreciate vengeance. He smiles at Regulus.

Slughorn, their head of house, approaches them. As soon as he's in range, the girls begin to cry and ask him to please turn their hair back to normal and punish Dorcas. It is all very tedious from there. Dorcas gives her wand to Slughorn to confirm she's not performed any spells that's remotely responsible for this. The girls try to explain to Slughorn why they think it's Dorcas - which he's confused about in the first place - which ends up with Blair's hair a solid purple, blue, green and yellow before she gives up. The other girl makes it only to green, which is a shame, but Regulus is sure they'll try again in their dorm. He can't wait to see if they'll show up to the party tonight or not.

By the time Slughorn informs the girl he has no idea what has happened or who is responsible, and that he doesn't know how their hair was enchanted and so they'll simply have to wait for it to fade - it's not life threatening or painful, he tells them when they protest - they're all free to go.

They're walking down the corridor to their first class when Pandora catches up to them. She looks a little flustered. Evan moves to make room for her, taking the flank. They're a lot of things, many of which most people would call unsavoury, but the boys look after their girls at all times.

Pandora adjusts her uniform, then asks, "How long will their hair stay like that?"

"I have no idea. It wasn't me, I swear," Dorcas insists, throwing her arms in the air.

"I was asking Reg," Pandora says simply.

Dorcas stops walking, staring at Regulus with a stunned expression that he can't read. For a moment, he panics. Perhaps he shouldn't have done that. It was stupid. And Dorcas doesn't appre—

The hug comes out of nowhere, and Regulus flinches so violently his teeth clash, but Dorcas doesn't let him go. She's warm and surprisingly soft. Smells like coconut. Regulus wishes he was the kind of person who can enjoy a hug, but despite Dorcas being a true friend, he simply cannot stand the oppressive feeling of arms around him.

"No," Regulus says weakly, trying to get out of it because it's making him hyperventilate. He feels asphyxiated. Trapped somewhere he didn't choose to be. "Dorcas, let go."

Pandora puts her hands on Dorcas' shoulders and peels her away gently. "You know Reg doesn't hug."

"Sorry," Dorcas says, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Nobody has done anything like that for me before."

Barty and Evan are downright confused and they say as much, but it's up to Dorcas whether she wants to explain or not. She pats both of them on their shoulders and says she'll talk to them another time, when she's ready. They accept this, and Regulus is reminded of why he became friends with them in the first place.

Both Barty and Evan have a ton of shit to deal with on their own. It could have made them evil. It made them understanding instead. Don't get him wrong. Barty is straight up diabolical when he wants to be, but it's a choice he makes simply for his entertainment. It's not who he is. Same with Evan, though he, on the other hand, is the quiet sort of smart. Less diabolical and more Machiavellian. Cunning, like any good Slytherin, just stealthy about it. Barty has a crazy streak; Evan is more likely to stab someone in the back. Barty you'll see coming. He'll want you to know he's coming.

It's just that they get it. They know what it's like when you grow up in a house that doesn't really feel like home. They understand the weight of expectations and the pressure. It was easy for eleven year old Regulus to find comfort in discovering other people's lives sucked, too. They used to crawl into bed together, all three of them, and sleep through their nightmares in a tight ball of friendship. They've grown out of that, what with Regulus' growing dislike of physical touch and intimacy, and Barty's need to keep himself busy with sex most nights. Not to mention the complications of Evan's crush on Barty—only obvious to Regulus because he had one himself and can see the signs.

But the friendship remains. It doesn't matter that they've changed. That things have become more complex and difficult to navigate. Through it all, they're still friends. Barty, Regulus and Evan. Regulus clings to this—to them, the idea of them, perhaps—like a drowning man to a lifeline.

"Reg? How long will that last?" Pandora asks again, pulling him out of his own head.

Regulus shrugs, adjusts his tie that got a little crooked when Dorcas hugged him. "Until I feel like they've grovelled enough at Dorcas' feet."

Dorcas gasps, covers her mouth for a moment. Then, "I'm going to hug you again," she announces.

"No," Regulus warns, going as far as to take a step back. "Hug Evan."

To everyone's amusement, she does. Evan returns the hug without complaints. "I'm so confused."

"Me too, mate," says Barty, shaking his head. "Me too."

Regulus' day falls into a lull after that. He goes to classes, listens, gets bored, then plots in his head. He needs access to the forbidden section of the library so he has to go talk to Slughorn, unfortunately. He'll do that next week, because he needs a few days to fully re-adjust to being at school. He also needs to find an abandoned classroom where he can practice without getting caught. And he needs to go down to the forbidden forest and forage for some of the ingredients he needs for potions. Perhaps on Sunday evening, when most people retreat to their common rooms to wind down before a new week.

Regulus is going to be busy this year. He's still the Slytherin Seeker, a position he won't give up because he loves flying and it keeps him exercised, which is important for a clear mind and helps with his sleeping difficulties. But it does mean regular practices. Less time for everything else. Still. He can do it. He's meticulous and organised.

And, if he's honest, it is quite thrilling. Everything he has to do, read, research or practice is in service of his vengeance plan. It fills him with a sense of purpose that he hasn't had since… well. A long time. He's working towards a goal, and it keeps him steady. There's no room for anything else when your brain is full of revenge.

Regulus eats lunch with his friends, quiet while they animatedly discuss the party they're going to later that night. Barty keeps talking about some huge bonfire he simply needs to see—don't ask Regulus why, he doesn't understand—and Evan is egging him on. Dorcas is eating with Pandora today, sitting at the Ravenclaw table. It's unusual, but nobody ever denies Pandora anything. So there they both are.

Regulus watches them for a bit while he absent-mindedly shoves mash potato into his mouth. And then, for no reason, his eyes drift away from his two friends and he finds himself scanning the Gryffindor table once. Twice. A third time.

He finds Lupin first. He hasn't been paired with him for patrols again, which is a bit of a shame. If nothing else, Lupin understands how comforting a good silence can be. It also doesn't hurt that he's nice to look at.

Speaking of which.

Sirius and Pettigrew are there but there's an empty space around them. A void so large it's suddenly insane to Regulus that he didn't notice it immediately. James isn't with them. James isn't here at all.

Regulus finds Lily Evans. To his embarrassing relief, she's with McKinnon and MacDonald. No James.

Where is James?

The question follows him out of the Great Hall and into the potions classroom, the last class before he's free for the weekend. He almost messes up his draught of the living dead—a potion so easy he could do it with his eyes closed—because he's fucking distracted. By the question. By James. Honestly, it's irritating.

So, when Slughorn asks him to deliver some potions to the infirmary, Regulus perks up. The infirmary. James and his friends spend a truly outstanding amount of time in the infirmary because they're always getting hurt. One way or another. It's actually quite astonishing the myriad of ways in which they manage to get injured.

So. James might be in the infirmary. And so Regulus takes the potions Slughorn gives him and slips away, letting Barty and Evan know that he'll meet them at the dorm before they leave for the dreaded party later that night.

Regulus grimaces as he pushes open the door to the infirmary whilst balancing the vials and bottles of potion. He almost drops a bottle as he stumbles inside, a lot less gracefully than he usually does everything else, but he can't be blamed. He's juggling a truly impressive amount of potions on his arms.

"Mr. Black!" Madame Pomfrey exclaims, rushing to his side as soon as he spots him. "Honestly, Horace should know to give you a box or something. Last time he sent me these, the poor student dropped three. Don't blame her, either. The mess was on Horace."

Regulus offloads the bottles and vials onto a cart that she rolls over to him. She's still pottering about, chatting incessantly while Regulus deposits his cargo. Once he's done, he gives her a perfunctory nod and turns around to leave. That's when he catches a glimpse of a mane of messy hair on one of the beds.

Ah. He was right, then. He's here.

He tells himself not to look. There's nothing here for him. No reason to step closer. Regulus was wondering where James was, now he knows. He needs to leave.

His feet ignore him, carrying him across the infirmary until he gets an unobstructed view of James Potter lying on a bed. He's asleep—thank Salazar for that—but his hands are heavily bandaged and lying on his lap.

Regulus is gripped by a sudden and one hundred percent unjustified rage. James' hands. He's going to kill whoever did this to him. Slowly. Painfully. He'll make them suffer. Drag it out.

Fuck.

Regulus is too gone into the depths of his fury to stop and consider how over the top his reaction is. All he can do is stare at those bandaged hands and plot murder. James is a Chaser. He needs his hands for Quidditch. Not being able to play the sport will kill him, Regulus knows. The entire school knows. It's all James Potter lives for.

But also. Like. James' hands are nice. They're big and strong, and Regulus has always suspected that they're callused from grabbing onto his broom and catching Quaffles. It's just… it's not right that someone's hurt them.

James' hands.

Someone clears her throat behind him and Regulus snaps back into reality. He's being too obvious. He needs to get a grip. He feels the blood rush to his cheeks, and hates himself for blushing. Fortunately, he's good at control. He forces his body to relax. The blood to flow normally. The blush is gone as swiftly as it came.

Madame Pomfrey must have caught him staring, because she puts a potion in his hand and says, "He needs to drink this. Be a dear and take it to him, yes? I've got a second year student covered in supuring pustules that needs urgent care."

His fingers close around the bottle automatically, before he can even consider what he's doing or what it means. Slowly, he approaches James' bed. He stands by it for an excruciatingly long moment before he clears his throat once, twice.

"Potter," he snaps when James doesn't wake.

It does the trick. James blinks, opens his eyes. His glasses are on the bedside table, so Regulus sees for the first time ever just how big and devastating they are. Brown and golden like the colours that make autumn the warmest, cosiest season.

Regulus is disgusted at himself for even thinking that. He's eternally grateful no one can hear his thoughts. He's so fucking embarrassing. Honestly.

"Sirius?" James is still sleepy. "I can't see. Get me my glasses, will you?"

It takes Regulus a moment to realise that with both hands bandaged, James cannot get his glasses on his own. And he hesitates. Because James doesn't know it's him. And… well. Regulus isn't an idiot. He knows an opportunity when he sees one.

James' skin is warm. That's the first thing he notices when his fingers graze his jaw. James doesn't react beyond a quick blink of his eyes and for once in his life, Regulus is grateful that his brother has no concept of personal space or boundaries. He has seen Sirius touch James a million times.

Regulus brings the vial to his mouth. His hand is fucking shaking, but James doesn't seem to notice.

"Drink," Regulus says, doing his best impression of his brother. If he keeps it to one or two words, max., he's certain he can get away with it.

"This tastes like licking the soles of Peter's boots," James complains, but he drinks the whole thing dutifully.

Regulus has questions. The first one being why on Merlin's green Earth the soles of Peter's boots was the simile James decided to go for. Oddly specific, if you ask Regulus. Disturbingly so. But James has finished drinking and he's talking again, which distracts Regulus.

"Vile," James says, grimacing. "If it weren't for the party, I'd refuse it and stay here another day."

The party.

Regulus had forgotten. "Right, the party."

"Yeah," James reclines against the pillows. "Poppy said one more vial of that poison and I'd be good to go. I'll be a bit late, so make sure the wards are set up properly, yeah? Pete's in charge of the distraction for Filch, you know how Mrs. Norris loves to mess with him. And Moony…" James trails off, purses his lips. Regulus gets the feeling James wants to say something, then decides against it. "Just don't let him drink too much. He's a pain in the ass to drag back to the castle."

"Sure," he says. This, apparently, is not what Sirius would have replied because James' eyes narrow down to slits.

"Where did he sleep last night?"

"Who?" Regulus knows this is a mistake, because James sits up straight, squinting at him.

"Pads?"

"Hmm?" He can't bring himself to actually answer, because James is squeezing his eyes at him as though trying to get a better view and it's so adorable it's melting Regulus' brain.

It's also dangerous.

Regulus should just bolt. He should leave the infirmary immediately. Save face while he can. But he's so close to James. So painfully close. He can see a small scar on his forehead, and the stubble wanting to grow along the sharp line of his jaw. He can count his eyelashes—the man has way too fucking many, it's unnecessary and lovely and Regulus wants to fucking die—and trace the shape of his lips with his eyes.

He's never been this close to James before and a part of him is grateful, because Regulus is sure that it would have killed him. A younger version of himself would have keeled over if he'd ever experienced James Potter up close.

As things stand, Regulus is hanging on by a thread. But he's hanging on and that's what counts.

Except the tips of his fingers are on his jaw again. He has to stop. He cannot stop.

"What are you doing?" James asks, and it's different. His voice. It's curious, and gentler, like he knows but doesn't want to scare him away. But James can't know. He can't. "What do you want?"

What do you want?

Regulus retreats, finally regaining control of himself.

"See you at the party," he says hurriedly, abruptly. And because he's observant, and smart, and will die if James ever figures out that it was him in the infirmary, he adds, "Prongs."

Regulus bolts then. He doesn't run because James would surely find that odd, but he doesn't stop either. He doesn't stop until he's in his room and Evan and Barty are telling him off for taking so long to get there, the sound of their voices loud enough to drown out James'.

What do you want?

Salazar have mercy. If James knew, it'd be the end of Regulus.

James walks through the wards set up around the perimeter of the party like a fucking Basilisk is on his tail. He almost got his head bitten off by Poppy for how damn annoying he was about leaving the infirmary. He hurt one of his hands again tearing at his bandages too quickly. There's a blister on the side of his right hand that's pulsing and aching but James simply doesn't care.

He regrets nothing.

James is fairly certain that it wasn't Sirius in the infirmary earlier and he needs to confirm it. As in, he can feel the possibility chewing up his insides. Because if it wasn't Sirius, then it could only be Regulus.

Which means Regulus Black touched his face.

James can't fucking breathe if he lets himself consider this option. His lungs seize up and his throat closes and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Because what does it mean? Why was he there?

He sees Peter first, because he comes running through the wards and overtakes James before he notices him. Coming to an abrupt halt, Peter does a U-turn. Hands on knees and panting, he grins up at James. "Norris is locked up and it's going to take Filch all night to find her."

James smiles and claps his friend on the shoulder. "Good job, Wormy. Let's find the others."

They walk towards the party together. It's at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, in a natural semi-circle where the treeline dips away from the castle and creates a perfect pocket of shadows.

"Moony!" Remus is pouring himself a drink, so James and Peter cut across the crowd towards him.

A few desks have been levitated all the way down from the castle and lined up closest to the trees—this way, the drinks tables act as a barrier preventing anyone from actually going into the Forest.

Remus has brought down a music player and the beat of some Fleetwood Mac song is drifting across the clearing mingled with people chatting and laughing. It's a good turnout, more people than James was expecting.

"How are your hands?" Remus asks him. "Hey Peter, all good with Filch?"

Peter nods and busies himself with pouring himself some punch. James lifts his hands to show Remus they're almost healed. He can't stretch them fully yet, but Poppy told him it'd be a matter of hours for the potions to finish working. He'll be fine.

James grabs a plastic cup and the bottle of firewhiskey. Remus blinks at him. "You okay?"

James shrugs. "It's a party."

Remus gives him a strange look, but James cannot be bothered with this right now because he needs Sirius. "Where's Padfoot?"

The way Remus' shoulders tense is his first clue. The second is how tightly Remus is gripping his cup, almost giving out under the pressure.

"Over there," Remus says, lifting his chin up towards the far end of the clearing. There's rage in those simple two words.

James follows his gaze and sees Sirius shamelessly flirting with a girl from Hufflepuff. He swallows the groan that wants to crawl up his throat. What even is he doing? James knows for a fact he doesn't like this girl because she asked him out the second night back while Remus was on prefect patrol and Sirius turned her down.

"I'm interrupting that," he says, pouring a drink for Sirius so he has an excuse. Not that he needs one. Sirius is his brother and he can go bother him whenever he wants.

"You are?" Remus asks, feigning casualness. It would work if James hadn't spent six years watching his friend for tells so they can all anticipate when he starts hurting ahead of a full moon.

Remus is fucking jealous, and he's doing a terrible job at hiding it from James.

"Need to ask him something," James says simply. "You coming?"

Remus hesitates, then proceeds to drown his punch in one long go before stepping up next to James. "Pete?"

"Sure," Peter tags along with them, too.

A few people try to stop and talk to them as they walk, but some of his anxiousness must be showing on James' face because it's not difficult to get them to leave him alone.

Sirius is listening to whatever the girl is telling him, letting his hair fall forward a bit as he tilts his head down. He gives her a half grin that tells James exactly how much time he's got before the situation tips into catastrophic. James has seen this play out a million times. He's got maybe ten seconds before the girl throws caution to the wind and kisses him. When she does, Sirius will kiss her back and then they'll have a morose Moony for a week.

He's not here for this. Not today. Not when there's a chance that Regulus touched his face. That one fact has been ricocheting inside his head for about an hour now and it's James' number one priority.

"Sirius," James says, stepping up to his friend and brutally breaking eye contact between him and the girl. "I need to talk to you."

"Potter, Sirius and I are in the middle of a conversation," the girl protests.

"Yes, James, can't it wait?" James gives Sirius a look, and he folds. Immediately. Without question. "Sorry Diana. Maybe later."

Diana is not happy, but she doesn't dare interfere when Sirius and his friends crowd into a little circle a few steps away. It's dark, the party's only source of light is the huge bonfire in the middle and a few orbs of light bobbing overhead. And yet, James can see the relief crossing Remus' eyes now that Sirius is no longer about to make out with someone who isn't him.

Honestly. James swore he'd stay out of it, but he's reaching his limit.

Now is not the time, though. Now, he's got more important things to discuss. "Padfoot," he says solemnly. "Thank you for stopping by earlier to help with my last vial of potion before the bandages came off."

The split second Sirius needs to process information and respond stretches before James like an eternity. He feels—rather absurdly—that there's a lot hanging on his answer.

"What?"

James heart fucking soars. He wants to fist pump the air and run around and just scream his lungs off his chest because it wasn't Sirius.

"Didn't you come by earlier?"

"No," Sirius frowns. "Should I have?"

James can't breathe. For real. He cannot make himself inhale.

It wasn't Sirius.

Remus, always too smart for his own good—except where Sirius is concerned apparently—chimes in. "Why did you think Sirius went to the infirmary?"

James shrugs like it doesn't matter. Like his heart isn't pounding so hard he wouldn't be surprised to see it jump out of his chest and strut around the clearing. "Someone came by to help Poppy. They had dark, long-ish hair. I was a bit out of it and not wearing my glasses so I thought it was Sirius."

Peter rolls his eyes. "Because he's well known for his spontaneous acts of random kindness."

James is struggling to stay where he is. His body wants to march right back into the castle and down into the dungeons to confront Regulus right this second. Except he can't. He'll be in detention for eternity if he tries to break into the Slytherin common room without the proper prep, which he can't do tonight because his accomplices are right here next to him. Which means he has to live with the knowledge that it was him until at least tomorrow, because there's no way Regulus Black is showing up to a Forbidden Forest party.

"Ouch, Pete!" Sirius says, bringing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "I'll have you know there's nothing I wouldn't do for Prongs."

Remus rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes. We know." He gives his empty punch cup a little shake, then points it towards Sirius' empty one. "Need a refill? You look like you need a refill."

Sirius beams and basically attaches himself to Remus' side, draping one arm over his shoulders. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

James thinks Remus is going to pass out. His eyes are bulging, and his face is positively crimson, but Sirius doesn't notice because he's already walking towards the drinks tables and dragging Remus with him.

"Do you…" Peter starts. Stops. Chews his lip. "You see it too, right? I'm not… imagining things?"

James looks at his friend, surprised that Peter is addressing it. Not because Peter wouldn't be okay with it, but because Peter is the type to just let people have their secrets and keep them.

"I do. But they don't," he replies carefully, wondering where Peter's going with this.

He nods, sighs. "I don't usually… I mean. You know I stay out of people's business. But… maybe, just this once?"

"What are you saying Pete?"

And Peter takes a deep breath and shocks the living daylights out of James by saying, "it's fucking painful to watch them, Prongs. They're so into each other and so oblivious about it it's making me anxious. Like, I'm stressed out about their sexual tension. How is that even a thing? It's … not right. It's not. We need to do something."

James laughs. He laughs, because Peter is right and this is ridiculous but he also doesn't know what to do because Sirius and Remus are stubborn and traumatised and just…

"I wouldn't even know where to start, Pete. They're friends. The stakes are higher. Like what if they hook up and then it gets awkward?"

Peter splutters. "But… look at them! James it's been almost two years of this! And you intercepted that Diana hookup tonight, but you're not going to be able to keep Sirius from running off to someone's bed and Remus from spiralling and it's just exhausting. Or, worse, what if Remus starts dating someone? Do I need to remind you of the absolute catastrophe that was Tom?"

James shakes his head. Remus dated the previous Quidditch Captain for Ravenclaw, a truly gorgeous guy two years ahead of them, for the second half of fifth year. They broke up because Tom graduated and it was just not sustainable seeing as Remus had two more years of school. Sirius spent most of the time Tom and Remus were together getting in and out of detention or, alternatively, at the bottom of a firewhisky bottle. It was messy, and Sirius managed to blame it on the tensions at home—which Remus bought completely when he then ran away to the Potters that summer—but James and Peter know better.

"I remember Tom."

Peter nods sagely. "What I'm saying is that they need to bang. It's imperative. If they don't shag before Christmas I'm locking them in a broom cupboard until they've worked it out of their systems."

James pulls Pete into a hug, because honestly? Same. It's quite frustrating to watch their two friends. "It'll happen. Eventually."

He suspects Peter hasn't got the whole picture and that his friends have something that goes beyond sexual attraction, but either way, something's going to give sooner or later. James hopes against all hope that it works out, because he doesn't know how he'll fix it if it doesn't.

"You know what," Peter says, stepping back. "I'm going to go spike their punch. Or trick them into doing too many shots. Excuse me."

And with that, he takes off towards where Sirius and Remus are talking and drinking, wrapped up in each other and completely oblivious to everything and everyone else. James shakes his head, a smile splitting his face in two.

He scans the clearing, eyes skipping over familiar faces like other Quidditch players. Deep down, he's looking for him. It's futile. Pointless. But James can't lie to himself. He wishes Regulus would show up because he's having trouble focusing on the party.

James tries, though. He tries his best to be normal, to act like he's happy to be here. And so he keeps glancing around in search of something to do or someone to talk to.

Jo, his ex-girlfriend, is sitting by the bonfire with Beth, her best friend. They make eye contact and nod to each other. Their break up was super friendly.

Jo's a seventh year Ravenclaw with an uncanny skill for transfiguration and eyes so blue James often had trouble looking anywhere else. They were easy. Low maintenance. Meeting when it suited them, but not going out of their way to make plans. Until suddenly they hadn't seen each other for three weeks and they realised they weren't that into it anymore. Beth called them out on it, and she was right. They broke up with the same ease they'd done everything else. No tears, no drama.

Now, James thinks Beth's dating Jo but he's not sure. He's also not prodding. Not everyone is open minded, and same sex couples tend to keep a low profile. It was the same with Remus and Tom. Not many people knew they were together. It bothered James then, and it bothers him still, because they should be able to make out right there by the bonfire if they bloody feel like it. But they can't. It's one of the many things James wishes he could change about the world.

To him, it doesn't matter. People are people. It's not boys and girls. It's just… people he's attracted to and people he isn't attracted to. He's not shocked that he's lusting after a dude. He's only shocked it's Sirius' brother. He might have never been into a guy before—not sure of it, he suspects he had a small crush on Remus at some point but he's not interrogating that—but he just doesn't feel like it's anything out of the ordinary. Not for him.

Anyway, it's frustrating that Jo and Beth cannot just be. That they can't enjoy the same freedom as a heterosexual couple. It's bollocks, it's what it is.

He's contemplating whether he should go talk to them when a high pitched noise escapes him without his permission.

He's here.

Regulus Black is here.

He doesn't look happy about it, all scowls and narrowed eyes, but he's here. Godric Fucking Gryffindor. He's so beautiful it hurts to look at him. The bonfire's flickering flames cast shadows that dance and catch on the angles of Regulus' face, throwing the cut of his jaw or the straight line of his nose into stark contrast.

James' chest is suddenly tight, like it's made of rubber stretched too far. His hands are shaking a little.

James is walking. He's walking, and this is insane because there are people around them, people who will see that he's making a beeline straight towards a Slytherin. And not just any Slytherin but Regulus Black.

And yet, he cannot stop. He needs to know. He has to—

He slams into a body too small to take the impact. The person bounces off him like they're a bludger hitting a bat.

"Ah, shit, Lily, sorry," James stops abruptly, arms shooting out to hold onto Lily before she falls backwards. He catches her, because he's got mad reflexes, and brings her upright gently. "I didn't see you. Are you hurt? I'm so sorry."

Lily's a bit disoriented, but she straightens herself quickly. "It's okay. It's a bit dark."

James blinks down at her, then notices he's still gripping her arms and lets go. "Are you alright? I'm sorry."

McKinnon and MacDonald appear out of nowhere, shaking their heads at James. "Honestly, Cap," says Marlene. "You'd think our star Chaser has better reflexes."

"I did catch her, didn't I?" James quips.

The girls all smile and exchange glances. Mary points to the cup of firewhisky that flew out of James' hand upon impact and is now abandoned on the ground. "Looks like you need a refill. Lily here was on her way to the drinks table. Make it up to her and escort her, will you?"

James can't think of a good reason not to. Because he can't tell them the truth. And now that he's been forcefully knocked out of his own idiocy—at least momentarily—he can see that confronting Regulus in the middle of the party is not a good idea. He'll have to find another way.

"Don't you want drinks, too?" Lily asks her friends.

"Nope," Marlene says cheerfully. "I've had three already. The perfect amount."

"For what?" James asks, curious.

"Liquid courage," she replies slyly. "Mary here is my wingwoman."

Lily rolls her eyes. "Okay, fine. Good luck, I guess?"

Mary shakes her head. "She's going to need more than luck for this one. Pray we don't end up in the infirmary."

Lily makes a noise of alarm. "Marlene. Tell me it's not the Slytherin."

James' ears perk up at this. It's an unwritten rule—Gryffindors don't hook up with Slytherins. It just doesn't happen. And yet, James realises that it's quite naïve to think no Gryffindor has ever shagged a Slytherin in the history of Hogwarts. It must have happened. There has to be precedent.

"She looks amaaaazing," Marlene declares. "And I heard from a source that swore me to secrecy that she's into girls, too. Obviously, not public knowledge because Slytherins suck. All except for her."

James is all of a sudden majorly invested in the success of McKinnon's conquest. If someone else brings a Slytherin into the fold, surely then he can… what? Nothing. He can nothing because it's not a normal Slytherin he's lusting after. It's Sirius' brother. Untouchable.

Mary smirks at James, enjoying the opportunity to be a little scandalous totally oblivious to James' drama. "That means someone she was shagging spilled the beans."

James covers his ears immediately. "I do not need to know this. I'm going to get a drink. Lily, you coming?"

Lily follows him across the clearing. She says something to him, but between the crowd, the music, and the roaring fire he's having trouble hearing so he indicates they'll chat when they're by the desks. Lily seems content to just walk next to him until they've cleared the bulk of the people.

James can see that Sirius and Remus are still talking. They've drifted away from the crowd and they're close to the forest line, half-obscured by shadows. Somehow, the two of them have created a pocket that belongs just to them. Honestly, sometimes James wants to smack them over the head so they get on with it. Sirius is in Remus personal space, but he's not bothered. As James watches, Sirius lights a cigarette—he's been obsessed with those muggle things for months—only to have Remus pluck it out of his hand and take a drag.

A soft smile finds its way to James' mouth. He loves those two so much he wouldn't know what to do without them.

He can't find Peter, which means he's probably off with the Herbology crowd. Peter does love his plants, and has a group of friends who share the interest. James loves him, and has sat through long lectures about the properties of a million vegetables, but he's enormously glad Peter has people to talk to about this that genuinely care about the topic and not just the person talking about said topic.

They reach the drinks table, and Lily goes for butter beer. James hesitates. He shouldn't get drunk but also… a quick glance confirms Regulus is still here. He's sitting on a log by the fire with Crouch and Rosier, and they seem to be watching Pandora and Dorcas Meadowes as they dance.

"Do you want a beer, James?" Lily asks.

The glow of the flames is catching on Regulus' curls. He looks like a god, young, and beautiful, and otherworldly.

Untouchable.

"No, thank you." James pours himself some fire whisky and forces his eyes away from his best friend's brother.

"So, how's that crush of yours going?" Lily asks him casually.

James almost chokes on his drink. He had told her he'd try to focus on the bad things, hadn't him? In all honesty, James forgot all about that. In his defence, he was busy with the whole fire emergency and then Regulus went and touched his face and… what is he supposed to do? He's only made of flesh and bone!

"Yeah, not great," he says, shrugging. "It's hard to focus on the bad when they're so fucking lovely I wanna cry."

Lily's mouth makes an O and James realises he's drunker than he thought. "Sorry, Lily, I've had a bit too much firewhisky. My filter's off."

She grins. "I didn't know you had a filter!"

James laughs. "I don't need it very often," he says. It's the truth. Most of the times, James simply says whatever he's thinking because he's not ashamed. He has nothing to hide, nothing to filter.

His eyes travel across the clearing again, because they're mean, treacherous things. And he finds Regulus has stood up and is walking towards the forest. Towards… Remus? Regulus is talking to Remus now. Where the hell did Sirius go?

James is confused. He's also… a little irritated. Why does Remus get to talk to Regulus out in the open? He wants that. He wants to ask. He needs to ask because his jaw is still tingling here Regulus touched him and he's desperate to find out if it means Regulus would like to touch him everywhere else.

When Regulus takes Remus' cigarette… James decides he doesn't care. Not now. Not tonight.

"Lily," he says. He finishes the firewhisky in one long gulp and sets the cup down. "I just need to go do something real quick. Sorry. See you in a bit."

Notes:

Little note to say life is going to get in the way, so the next update will be Wednesday :)

Also, can you tell I love Wolfstar?

Thanks for reading 3