The 64 chapter one

by Bossey

Remover

6. 6

Chapter 6: Forest Party

Notes:

Hello!!

This chapter has a little bonus 'interlude' with Sirius' POV (Wolfstar focused because I couldn't not!). Most of the story will be told alternating James and Regulus as has been the theme for the past 5 chapters, but I will bring in a few POVs here and there to add a bit of flavour. I hope you like it.

TWs

Underage drinking

Underage people smoking cigarettes

Mentions of past child abuse (Walburgaaaaa is a bad parent, we know)

Mentions of past torture (related to the child abuse)

Lots of swearing

Mentions of possible future death (someone thinks about the fact what they're doing is dangerous and could result in death)

Mild (very mild) hurt/pain inflicted via a spell

Jealousy

Homophobia

Brief mention of past self-harm

Terrorism is discussed by two Death Eaters (planning an attack on muggles)

Not sure if is needs a TW or not but I want to be safe - there's a moment when someone mentions considering performing and exorcism to get a very bad idea out of someone else's brain.

I think that's it! This chapter is longer - enjoy :D

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

Chapter Text

Regulus doesn't like being drunk. He remembers wanting to know what it felt like. Now that he does, he thinks he'll never do it again.

His limbs feel too loose, and his balance is off. His face has a life of its own and seems to just do things without permission, which is alarming. Barty keeps making fun of him because apparently he's softly grinning at Pandora and Dorcas dancing like idiots.

Alcohol makes him sloppy. He's already slipped up. A few minutes ago, Evan randomly decided to hug him and he allowed it for a full two seconds before shoving him away. Honestly, very poor performance on his part.

He's scowling. He knows. He's doing it on purpose because he thinks if he forces his face to do something specific, it'll stop misbehaving.

"Reg, come with me," Pandora shows up, takes his hand, and drags him with her.

Regulus is distressed to discover that his body is also apparently doing things without his consent, for he's following Pandora, who's on her way to Dorcas' side.

"No," Regulus says, but he's already standing there and the girls are dancing around him. He wants the ground to swallow him whole.

Barty is watching him like he cannot believe his eyes. He's barely even blinking. Evan's laughing so hard he's in danger of falling backwards into the bonfire.

Pandora throws her arms up. "Dance with us, Reg!"

"I'd rather die."

"You're no fun," Dorcas says, bumping her hips with his.

Regulus glares at her, and she relents. Regulus is aware enough to understand this slip up—as well as Evan's hug—are a side effect of his inebriation, hence why he's sworn he'll never do it again. But right now, he's drunk and a little out of control, and there's nothing he can do about it but wait for it to pass.

The problem is that he's dying for a cigarette. He'd do truly horrible things for one. But he doesn't have any and none of his friends smoke.

He purposefully walks away, but not towards the log. No. That's dangerous because Barty and Evan have discovered tonight that they just love to try and trick drunk Regulus into doing shit. Instead, he moves a little away from the bulk of the crowd so he can observe the party and decide who to bully into giving him a cigarette.

Not many people are smoking, because cigarettes are a muggle thing and they haven't really caught on at Hogwarts yet. He sees a couple sharing one, standing so close to each other Regulus feels awkward just looking. No way he's asking them.

He considers two Ravenclaws hovering just outside of the main circle of the party. Yes. They will do. Regulus walks towards them, practicing his request in his head. What to say. How to say it. Not too mean, not too nice. He's almost reached them when he notices Lupin. He's alone, leaning against a tree at the edge of the forest. And what do you know? He's smoking a cigarette.

Regulus will blame the alcohol for his feet changing course and heading towards him. Lupin notices him early, and to Regulus surprise doesn't react to find the Slytherin coming. Lupin simply waits, like Regulus approaching him at a party is a normal thing.

Regulus is enormously glad that Lupin isn't making a big deal of it. The guy gets it, he supposes. There's an air of quiet and darkness around Lupin, something simmering just below the surface. Yes, he's a Gryffindor through and through but also… Regulus gets the feeling that Lupin hasn't had the easiest life.

Regulus kind of likes him, he decides. In another life, they could have been friends. Before the cold, and the cage of bones, and the breaking of all things that made Regulus a semi-decent kid. They could have been something. Two quiet kids sitting in the dark letting the silence speak for them.

When he reaches Lupin's side, Regulus gives him a perfunctory nod and says, "Do you have more?"

Somehow, inexplicably, Lupin understands what he means. He shakes his head. "Got this off a friend. But I can share."

Regulus hesitates. Sharing a cigarette feels kind of intimate. Isn't it? But Lupin doesn't seem to care. Except… It's weird, right? He doesn't know Lupin. They're not close, they're never going to be. They have been on one train patrol rotation together. That's it.

It's one thing for Regulus to think they could have been in a life that didn't tear everything good about him from his cold hands, and another thing entirely for him to pretend that life is here and now. It's not. Never going to be.

"Why?"

Lupin shrugs. "You look a little desperate."

Regulus recoils. Fuck. He's too drunk, if he's letting it show around Lupin. It's one thing for him to relax a little with Evan and Barty—they are, after all, fifty percent of all the people he trusts in the entire world—but here? With Lupin? Fuck no. This is… bad. It's dangerous. When people can see what you're feeling or thinking they can use it against you. Regulus learnt early that hiding is safe. He'd prefer simply not feeling, but he hasn't got that down yet. So he settles for hiding.

"Forget it," Regulus turns to leave, but Lupin reaches out and grabs his arm.

And here's the thing. Regulus doesn't like it when people touch him. His friends know, so they don't. Not without checking that it's okay, that he can see it coming. That he can stop it if he wants to. He almost always says no when they ask anyway.

So when Lupin's hands closes around his forearm, Regulus' entire body jerks to a halt so abrupt he feels it in his teeth. Lupin notices, or perhaps he didn't mean to reach out in the first place, because the hand retreats as quickly as it came. The tension leaves Regulus, leaving him a little dizzy.

"Sorry. I… I just mean, you don't have to go. I meant what I said," Lupin says. "Just… here." He offers him the cigarette again. "I don't mind if you don't mind."

Regulus looks at the cigarette in front of him and well. He's been wanting one for a week. He doesn't know if he'll get another chance. It's not like one can buy muggle cigarettes in Hogsmeade.

He takes it, brings it to his lips.

"How did you…" Lupin trails off, watching him inhale.

Regulus returns the fag, exhaling smoke and feeling a little more settled. "Muggle kid in a pub gave me one this summer."

"You were in a pub? A muggle one? Whatever for?"

Regulus shrugs. "Errand."

Lupin gives him a long look that makes Regulus want to squirm. He doesn't, though. He has enough control left for that, at least.

The truth is that Regulus was in that pub contemplating whether there was any point to what he was attempting to do. He'd overheard a Death Eater meeting and he'd felt overwhelmed by the sheer numbers signing up to join the ranks. The Dark Lord was gaining power fast. That day, Regulus had felt like a child wanting to sit at the adults table.

His revenge had seemed like child's play. Impossible. He'd been wallowing. Trying to decide what to do. Whether he could be bothered to carry on.

Then, a good-looking muggle guy (who happened to look a lot like the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team just without glasses and with a lot of ink on both his arms) had hit on him. Out of the blue. He'd slid up to him at the bar and introduced himself, then proceeded to buy him a drink. Regulus had felt unmoored at first. Baffled.

But then the guy had pressed his leg against Regulus' and smiled at him like Regulus was someone worth of a smile. Like this guy genuinely simply wanted to just… sit there and drink with him. Like his company was good enough reason. It was… strange. Terrifying. It was also a lie, but then again the guy didn't know anything about who Regulus was. The things he was preparing to do. The things he had done.

Bones and blood and cold and pain.

And he'd liked it. He'd felt like maybe yes. He could. He had this. He'd planned, and prepared for an entire year before even taking the first step. And he was going to keep working on it, because Regulus knew better than to take anything for granted. Not even his own intelligence, which was about the only thing he had that was worth a damn. He was going to continue honing his skill, become the best wizard he could, and join the adults table.

They were going to beg him to join the adults table.

And then, once he was there and he had power and influence and access… then he was going to get revenge. Balance the scales. Give as hard as he's been forced to take.

And if survived it—a which was a big if—perhaps he'd try to find a boy to smile at him like this again. Someone who didn't know him, his past, his name. Who couldn't see the shattered parts of him. Someone who had no idea he was a broken shell of a person, carrying on fuelled solely by spite, and anger that burnt ice cold in his veins. He'd find someone like that. Another smile. Perhaps a kiss, one day. When he had space and time to consider whether that was something he could share with another person.

Regulus had left that pub hooked on cigarettes and imbued with renewed purpose.

Not that he's gonna tell Lupin any of it.

The Gryffindor passes him the cigarette again. There are two, maybe three drags left. Regulus feels a pang of longing even as he inhales. It'd been nice of Lupin to share but it isn't enough. Regulus regrets for the millionth time not bringing a stash of smokes with him. What an idiotic oversight for someone who prides himself on being smart. But Walburga does go through his trunk, so really, it was simply easiest to just not.

He regrets that now. Will regret until Christmas, probably.

"Finish it," Lupin says. "I'll get another one."

Something must flash through Regulus face, because Lupin's lips twitch with amusement.

"I can ask, if you want," he says. "But be warned. It's Sirius."

Regulus chokes on the smoke, coughs. "What?"

"Your brother. He's the one who gave that to me," Lupin explains. "He's into those and has a stash."

"Ah," Regulus says. Of course he fucking does, because Sirius has everything. Always.

But Regulus is not going to discuss his brother with Lupin. Or with anyone. Ever. Regulus doesn't even discuss Sirius with himself.

When it's obvious the cigarette has nothing left to give, Regulus puts it out and nods towards Lupin. "See you around."

Lupin's eyes go big and round, and he speaks… "Black, wait—"

But Regulus is already turning around as Lupin tries to warn him. He's too late. Regulus bumps face first into a chest of hard muscle and who would have guessed? James Potter is just as solid as he looks.

He smells fucking good, too, which is just. Couldn't he stink? It would have helped a great deal with Regulus' stupid little crush on him. He's pretty certain he'd be able to get over it if James simply smelled terrible. But no. Obviously not. This is James I'm-perfect-and-you-aren't Potter. He smells so good Regulus wants to bite him.

Regulus steps back swiftly, schooling his face into a mask of contempt. "Potter. What the fuck are those ugly glasses for?"

Regulus hates that he has to tilt his head back to look at James, but he does. James is tall. It's annoying. He's looking at Regulus intensely, hazel eyes earnest and honest and downright lethal.

"What are you doing here with Remus?" James' words are a little unsteady, and it serves to remind Regulus of his own drunkenness.

This is dangerous situation, and Regulus has no intention of getting caught in it. Especially while he is drunk, too. He needs to get out as quickly as possible, because he will absolutely not lose an ounce of composure in front of James Potter.

"Get lost," Regulus says, stepping around James.

Except James steps to the side to intercept him and they're chest to chest again. Well, Regulus' eyes are level with James' chin. Whatever that's called. Fuck. Regulus can feel the heat radiating off of James body and it's criminal. How is he this warm? Is it the muscles? It must be the muscles. James is like a furnace.

"Prongs?" Lupin calls from somewhere behind Regulus. He sounds uncertain, which Regulus thinks is fair. This is decidedly strange.

"Padfoots gonna lose it if he gets wind of this. You know I'm right," James says, clearly speaking to Remus about his brother. As if Regulus didn't know the stupid nicknames they have for each other.

For some reason, James' statement makes Lupin change his mind. He steps up next to them and says, "buy me a minute, yes?"

James nods, and he almost hits Regulus' nose with his chin when he does. Regulus distinctly remembers what his fingers feel like against that jawline and he almost keels over with the effort not to touch James again.

He shouldn't have drunk so much.

Lupin disappears and Regulus remembers he should have stepped back about a century ago. He does, only to find James taking a step forward.

Regulus is irked and confused. He's also still drunk, which is why he does it again instead of saying something. Because he kind of wants to see if James will keep it up. He does.

James seems intent on keeping them as close as possible which just won't do. It won't do at all. Because Regulus is drunk and he won't risk it. It's bad enough he acted so recklessly in the infirmary. He's not making that mistake again.

Another step back. And James follows.

Salazar Fucking Slytherin. Seriously?

Regulus can't think, because James is so fucking close to him it's overwhelming. His brain is short circuiting, and he can feel himself about to spiral because this is James Potter and he's so warm, and he smells so good—like cedarwood and grass and dawn— and Regulus cannot for the life of him figure out what the fuck is happening.

He's not in control and that is unacceptable. That's what snaps him back into his right mind, alcohol or no alcohol.

Regulus does the only thing he knows to do when he's losing control.

Take it back.

The wand bites into the underside of James' jaw, making him inhale sharply. The sound almost sends Regulus to his knees. By some miracle, he remains upright, his hand steady and gripping the wand digging into that brown skin he very much wants to lick.

"Are you really going to curse me, Black?" James asks. Regulus' grip tightens, because James' voice is a little low and it does things to his stomach.

"Get away from me," Regulus says clearly and slowly. He's intensely relieved to hear that he sounds like his normal, mean self. Thank Salazar for that.

"Are you sure?" James asks.

"I'll hurt you." Regulus lungs are going to give out any second now. His knees are shaking and his mouth is dry.

James steps closer again, and Regulus goes back again, one step so he can—oh. Oh no. There's a tree. A tree at his back.

James hesitates. Stays close but gives Regulus a bit of space and he hates him for that. Because Regulus can see James trying to be respectful even when he's… he's what? Intimidating Regulus? He honestly isn't sure what's going on here. His wand is still threatening James, but Regulus doesn't feel like he's in charge of this situation.

James runs a hand through his hair. "Listen, Black, I just need to talk to you for a minute."

And this has to be a prank. It has to be, and he's not going to fall for it. He would rather chew glass than let James Potter humiliate him.

Regulus is about to spew more vitriol, dig his wand in a little harder as a final warning for James to retreat, when James says, "The infirmary. I know it was you. You gave me my medicine. You touched my face. Why? I need to know why. Why?"

And fuck. Regulus' lungs empty so suddenly his ribs ache from the whiplash. James knows it was him and he wants to know why. But the thing is, Regulus doesn't know why. He's been berating himself since he did it. Stupid. So stupid.

Because he hates James. James is on his revenge list. Sure, he's not at the very top because Regulus does on some level want to keep that gorgeous face intact for as long as possible, but he is on it. A reckoning is coming for James and it will be Regulus' hand that delivers it.

James is one of the reasons Sirius left. James is everything Regulus despises. James is the antithesis to him.

James is… looking at him strangely.

The thought registers like an arrow hitting a bullseye. It cracks Regulus in half—want and fear. James looks like he's wanting and Regulus cannot attach a subject to that want because that would mean… It's just. No. It can't be. This is a prank. James is pranking him. His friends are going to jump out of the trees any moment and humiliate Regulus for even entertaining the thought for a second.

And then, James' eyes dip to Regulus mouth.

Regulus body reacts like he's been set on fucking fire. But he won't fall for it. He's stronger than this. He is the master of his body, and it answers to him. And Regulus says no.

No.

James isn't moving. He's just… staring. At Regulus. At his face. And Regulus convinces himself that he's imagining things. It's the alcohol. Regulus is drunk and he's losing his mind. Because it's impossible that James is thinking what Regulus thinks he is. Because if… if James Potter is…

No.

This is a prank, and Regulus will not be caught in it.

"Back off," Regulus says, then sends an electrifying charm through his wand that zaps James' skin.

He jumps back, swearing. Eyes wide behind his glasses, James brings a hand to his neck and gapes at Regulus. "That hurt!"

Regulus pushes himself off the tree and looks at him down his nose. "That was just a warning."

And James. James fucking Potter groans, looks at Regulus like he's never seen him before, and says, "Fuck."

And it's the tone in that one word that does it. The implication that perhaps this wasn't a prank, and James was… James was what?

Impossible. No.

Regulus flees. He simply rushes into the forest, swerving to the side to keep close to the edge so he doesn't get lost. It's not his first time in the Forbidden Forest and it won't be the last. So long as he keeps within a reasonable distance of the edge, he knows his way around it. He doesn't stop moving until he's past the party wards, up the hill. Through the entrance hall and down the dungeons.

He sails through the common room, mostly deserted at this hour, and climbs the stairs so fast his chest is heaving when he pushes the door to his dorm open. His room is empty, thank Salazar. He yanks off his clothes as fast as he can and climbs into bed. He shuts the curtains almost violently. Two silencing charms later, Regulus bites his pillow and screams.

Interlude: Sirius POV

Sirius is seriously (haha) considering attempting to use an undetectable extension charm on his own bladder. Because if he hadn't been about to burst, he wouldn't have had to leave Remus smoking alone. It's just, well. He was quite literally about to wet himself and that's obviously not a good look.

He's deep in the forest, darkness all around him. As he attends to his body's stupid physiological needs, Sirius inhales. He's always liked the smell of the Forbidden Forest—musky and humid and alive.

A branch snaps nearby. Sirius doesn't even flinch. He's not afraid. It's not that Sirius is fearless. There are things that scare him, though he'd never admit them to anyone other than James. It's just none of the things he's afraid of lurk in the Forbidden Forest. The creatures here can inflict physical pain. Tear his body to shreds. Sirius has been there, done that and survived it. He's not afraid of pain.

He finishes his business and heads back the way he came. Remus will have finished the cigarette by now, but perhaps he wants another one. Sirius likes it when they smoke together. It's something that belongs just to them, because James cannot stand the taste of tobacco.

Sirius happens to enjoy it. Remus does, too.

He's smirking to himself when he reaches the edge of the forest. The party is a wild success. As the night goes on, more people are dancing—led by Pandora, it seems—and quite a few couples are making out.

Sirius would like to make out with someone. But he also wants to find Remus and annoy him a little bit. For fun. Because it's entertaining to Sirius when Remus is exasperated and looking at him like he wants to bite his head off.

He glances around the clearing. Peter's with the herbology crowd. James has disappeared, as has Remus. Hmm. Did something happen? Sirius' got the map in his pocket, but to take it out he has to retreat back into the forest a little bit. He can check if Remus and James had to go somewhere. Oh, if they're in trouble Sirius is going to kill someone.

"Pads," Remus says, emerging from the shadows and coming to stand in front of him.

Sirius adjusts his leather jacket, then checks that his hair is as it should be, held up by his wand. He owes Marlene for teaching him this trick—helps keep his hair out of his face and make sure he's never without his wand. What he calls a win-win.

Remus pushes a drink into his hand that he takes immediately. "Aww, thanks Moony." He beams at him. Remus rolls his eyes.

"Where's Prongs?" Sirius asks, looking around.

Remus steps closer. "Who knows," he says, then takes a long sip. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

"Having fun?" Sirius asks. He finishes his drink, hoping it cools him down. It's hot here all of a sudden. They shouldn't have made the bonfire so fucking huge.

Remus shrugs. "It's a good party. Are you okay?"

Sirius nods, fishes the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He offers one to Remus. He takes it and Sirius notices—not for the first time—that Remus has super nice hands. Honestly, he's a little jealous. Sirius would like to have hands like that. Like. His hands are amazing, Sirius is very pleased with his looks overall. He's hot and he knows it and the entire world knows it.

But Remus has very nice hands and Sirius thinks about them often.

Sirius lights his cigarette first. He always does, because then he can bring the lighter close to Remus' face and watch the way the light dances over the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose. The way his eyes—golden, like they were made by a jeweller with great skill—twinkle and reflect the tiny flame he holds between them.

"Mind if I have some of that?" he asks, gesturing to Remus' drink when both their cigarettes are burning.

Remus passes him the cup and Sirius takes a sip. He needs it, because his mouth has gone dry and it's frankly quite uncomfortable. He's still too warm, but that he can do fuck all about.

"Where do you get these from?" Remus asks, lifting his cigarette.

"There's this dingy pub at the edge of town in Hogsmeade that stocks them. But I've got like six packs in the dorm," Sirius says. "I'll give you as many as you want. Don't worry about it."

Remus smiles, lifts his arm. Sirius ducks under it immediately. It's one of his favourite places in the world. Next to Remus. Touching Remus. Remus smells so nice, like chocolate, and the outdoors. Sirius could bottle Remus' scent and carry it in his pocket. It makes him feel calm. Helps him slow down.

Sirius never thought he'd ever find anyone who could make him want to slow down.

"Oh. Wow," Remus whispers. Sirius looks up. Remus gestures towards the party with his head. "Beth and Jo."

Sirius squints. It takes him a moment, but he does find them. They're across the clearing, at the very edge of where the wards end. He has no idea how Remus even saw them, because they're pretty obscured by shadows. But they are there, standing so close together they could be kissing.

"That's brave," Sirius mutters. "If anyone sees…" A full body shudder runs through him and he knows Remus can feel it because they're pressed together.

Remus sighs. Nods. "I know, Pads. I know."

"Don't sound so sad," Sirius says, because he cannot stand a sad Remus. It hurts him. Deep inside him, in places he didn't know he could hurt. Sirius will go to any lengths necessary to stop Remus from being sad.

"Well. It's pretty shit."

"What is?"

"That I have to hide to be with someone I like."

And that. Well. Yes. But also. "You like someone?"

Sirius sounds a little panicked. To be honest, he's feeling a little panicked. His heart is hammering and he just… he needs to step away.

He does, and Remus looks funny at him. "Don't do this. Not again."

"What do you mean again? Who… I mean… Moony!" Sirius is so fucking agitated. His hands twitch, so he balls them into fists.

"We talked about this. About Tom. Remember?" Remus gives him a look.

"I'm not… you know I don't care that you…" like boys. He only mouths the next words, because he's not risking someone overhearing. That would be very bad for Remus. "It's just… Tom was an absolute tool."

"Merlin's balls, Sirius. It's been two years," Remus says, exasperated. "Tom wasn't a tool. You just hated him for no reason."

"Reason!" Sirius shouts. He's not making any sense, but it doesn't matter because Remus hasn't told him yet who it is he likes. And Sirius should know. Sirius needs to approve it, because he cares about Remus and Remus has to have standards. "He was a Ravenclaw. And too tall for you. It looked ridiculous, honestly. And he went around acting like he owned the fucking school. Tom was a tool, Moony. You deserve better."

"Do I, now?" Remus challenges, eyes blazing. Oh, Sirius has pissed him off.

He's giddy. Angry Remus is so… glorious. It's just. Sirius could fight him all day every day. He can't get enough of it. The fire in his eyes, the way his neck tenses, the vein pulsing on his forehead. Angry Remus is fucking beautiful.

"Yes, you do," Sirius insists. "You could have anyone!"

Remus scoffs. "I can't and you know it. You know why I can't. I just… fuck. Sirius. You know what? I'm too drunk for this."

He turns to leave, and Sirius' heart sinks. "No. Wait, Moony. Wait!"

He chases him. Just. Runs after him, because he only likes angry Moony if he's yelling at him. If he leaves… Sirius can't. He just can't. So, he chases his friend. Falls into step next to him.

"You didn't tell me who it is you like," he says in a small voice.

Remus gives him a look that makes Sirius want to be reckless. Jump off a cliff, maybe? "You are fucking unbelievable, Pads."

Sirius shrugs, because they know him. Him and his issues. Him and his temper. His inability to do anything right. To exist without pissing people off or breaking something. He's a walking disaster, with zero emotional maturity because well. His mother imperioused and crucioed him for years. So like, what does Remus expect?

"It's just me, Moony," Sirius says. And there's so much in that. All the things Remus knows about him. Things that should have made him hate him, but for some reason didn't. Remus has seen the worst of Sirius and he stayed anyway.

Remus knows. Remus sees. Remus, inexplicably, accepts and stays and cares. It's almost too much for Sirius.

Remus stops. Look at him in a way that singes his skin, makes his fingers twitch. And then they're hugging and all is well again. Sirius is home. He's okay and Remus is okay. And nothing else matters.

James gives Remus a day. He thinks this is reasonable, because they did, after all burn down his bed on Thursday night and it's not yet fixed. After the party, they had to put all four of their brains together to find a solution without anyone finding out. They managed Saturday evening, so James thought perhaps Remus would give him an explanation then.

Instead, he got into an absurd fight with Sirius over jumpers again. A fight that was left unresolved because Remus folded the moment Sirius whipped out a bar a chocolate and waved it at him. They then proceeded to curl up on the recently resurrected bed with a book each and read for hours, Sirius' head resting on Remus' lap.

Peter gaped at them like he couldn't believe his eyes. James simply shrugged.

Still. James waited. He gave Remus Saturday night, and Sunday morning. It's a lot of time, James thinks. Time that Remus didn't use wisely. So. Sunday afternoon has arrived and James has no choice but to track Remus down in the library.

He left Sirius with Peter, who challenged him to a game of chess. That'll go on for a while, because both are very good at it and hate losing. James has time to talk to Remus undisturbed.

His werewolf friend is sitting at a big table, hunched over some books. James notices that Remus is wearing the jumper that Sirius took Thursday night. He's pretty sure he hasn't washed it.

"Remus," James says by way of hello, dropping into the chair right next to his. He props an elbow on the table and rests his chin on his hand. "Isn't there something you want to tell me?"

Remus looks at him for a long moment. Blinks. "Be specific, James."

"Why were you hanging out with Regulus at the party?"

How's that for specific? James is anxious for some reason and it's making it hard to keep himself in check. His reactions might be a little blow out of proportion. He's not sure why, though. So he's just going with it.

Remus sighs, then shrugs. "He's a prefect. We had a good patrol on the train and I—"

"Remus." James can't believe he's trying to pull this shit on him.

"Fine," he says, admitting defeat. "He wanted a cigarette."

James blinks. He's somehow both surprised and not to find out that Regulus smokes. Like, he knew, because he saw it. But also, he thought perhaps it had been Remus' influence, not that Regulus has sought it out. It seems both Black brothers have something of an addictive trait to their personalities. Huh.

"Since when do you smoke with Regulus Black?" James doesn't mean for it to come out with so much bite, but it does.

"James, what is this really about?" Remus asks, levelling him with one of his 'I'm not fucking around looks.'

What is this really about? James doesn't know. He doesn't know. It just feels like Remus was close to Regulus. Sharing something. And Regulus didn't threaten to dismembr him. Regulus didn't hurt him. Didn't push him away.

And as much as James finds Regulus' mean streak attractive for some inexplicable reason (he almost exploded when he towered over him with his wand in his hand and delivered a rather ruthless 'that was a warning'), James would rather the boy let him get close. At least once.

He wants answers, James. He wants to know what happened to Regulus. Whether he ran away from home. Whether he's still redeemable. James needs to know why he touched his face in the infirmary.

Why?

What does it mean?

He can't ask Remus these. He can't tell Remus that's what he's doing here. Digging for answers he's not going to find.

So, he goes down a route he knows will distract his friend.

"You know Sirius will lose it if he finds out you're getting close to Regulus," James says.

Remus tilts his head, harshness flashing over his eyes. "Sirius is not the boss of me."

James snorts. "Come on, Moony. You know that's not it."

Remus stays quiet for a while. Longer than James is comfortable with. He wants to break the void somehow. Say something. But he's learnt that sometimes Remus needs him to wait. So James forces himself to be patient. He puts his hands under his thighs so he doesn't fidget, though his shoe keeps bouncing on the floor.

"Here's the thing, James," Remus says. "Regulus was desperate for that cigarette. It was obvious, because he was drunk. If I hadn't given it to him, he would have gone ask someone else and Regulus Black isn't the best liked person at this school."

James nods, because all of this is true. Makes sense. Except. "So you… thought it better you than someone else? I'm… why?"

"Because he's Sirius' little brother, Prongs," Remus says, like it explains everything.

"We hate Sirius' brother," James replies, tentative. "Don't we?"

"We do, but we also look out for him."

James opens his mouth. Closes it again. He doesn't know what to say. This is new information to him. He's… well, he's confused but also curious.

"We do?"

"Yes, James. Because Sirius hates Regulus but he'd die if anything bad happened to him. You know he cares. Deep down. He still cares. It's what hurts him."

And well. Yes. Remus is right. Now that he's voiced it, James knows it's true. Like something he was always aware of, just… out of sight. In the back of his mind.

"Right," he says, relaxing back into his chair. "So you were nice to him for Sirius."

"Yes."

"Right."

James is so relieved he almost giggles. Remus isn't flirting with Regulus. There's no secret—wait, what? Fuck. James almost falls of his chair. Is that what he was worried about?

Apparently yes. Merlin's balls, James is in so much more trouble than he thought if he's getting jealous of Remus. Remus of all people. Remus who orbits Sirius like a planet does its star.

"What I want to know," Remus says casually, breaking through the fog of James' brain. "Is why you were so fucking bothered, James."

"No reason."

"James."

"Huh?"

"You have exactly one minute to tell me that the crush you need getting rid of isn't on Regulus Black," Remus says, leaning back on his chair. "Or I will personally crack open your brain to exorcise this absolute lunacy out of it."

James doesn't know what exorcise means. But he knows Remus isn't joking. He's too fucking smart. Sneaky. He's observant. It's because he's never the one making the noise.

"It's not that," James replies. It's… well, yes. It is that, but also, James thinks there's something else going on here. He's curious about Regulus and for good reason. He thinks Regulus is hiding something and it could be a something that changes everything.

Remus' eyebrows touch his hairline.

"Moony," James says slowly. "If I told you I suspect something has happened to him and that I want to find out what it is. If I told you I think it's something that could potentially make Sirius happy, would you trust me?"

Remus straightens at that, sitting forward. "Go on."

"I… I don't want to say anything because if I'm wrong it will only hurt Sirius more. I'm just… trying to find out. Okay? I need you to trust me. If I'm wrong, then I'm wrong and it'll go nowhere and Sirius won't know. But if I'm right… Moony, if I'm right it might bring them back together.

He hears the sharp breath Remus takes and knows his friend is in. "What do you need?"

"I just need to get Regulus to talk to me," James says earnestly. "So. Any ideas?"

Remus hums. "Cigarettes."

That's how James ends up later that evening under his invisibility cloak, gripping the map, and sneaking out of the school and into Hogsmeade. Remus knows—because Sirius has told him—that there's a dingy pub right by the edge of the village that sells muggle cigarettes. That's where James is going.

He knows every corner of Hogsmeade like the back of his hand. During fifth year, the worse year of Sirius' life, they spent almost every night sneaking out of the castle together to go drink with Rosmerta. She knew they were breaking the rules, but she could see that something was wrong with Sirius. She saw through his flirtatious smiles and easy jokes, and she let them drink with her. James suspects her thinking was similar to Remus' with Regulus—better there with her than somewhere else with unsavoury company. James is eternally grateful to her.

Today, he's not going to the Three Broomsticks, though. He walks past it, safely hidden under his invisibility cloak and makes a beeline for the edge of the town.

The pub is dark, so James cannot see what's making the floor so sticky. It's better this way, because James is sure he'd be nauseous if he could see. Hiding in a corner, he pulls the cloak off and tucks it under his clothes. He's wearing Sirius' leather jacket, hoping it makes him look less like a student.

He sits at the bar and orders a whisky. It's not ideal to be drinking when he's got school tomorrow, but he doubts they even serve butterbeer here. If he sticks to just the one he should be fine.

The man serves him and pockets the coins without a word. James plasters on his most disdainful smile—which he's aware isn't that disdainful at all, but oh well—and says, "I hear you've got cigarettes for sale. Two packs."

The man pauses, looks at him. James holds his gaze with confidence. That, he can do. And it works. "Give me a moment."

He disappears behind the bar. James nurses his whiskey slowly. Shortly after, the bartender comes back, holding two packs of cigarettes like he's seen Sirius carry around. The transaction is easy, and just like that James has what he needs to lure Regulus into a chat.

How ridiculous that he's had to go to these lengths just to get a boy to talk to him. But James is enjoying it a little bit. The fact that Regulus isn't immediately interested. That he has to work for it.

James slides off the stool and heads towards the toilets at the back to put on his invisibility cloak and leave. On his way out, however, he walks close to a booth where two men are huddled close and catches their conversation. It stops him in his tracks.

"…hitting Liverpool to send a message. We're gaining traction. Gaining supporters fast," one of them says. "The Dark Lord is gracious to those that help the cause."

"What does that help look like?"

James moves closer, holding his breath. The man doing the recruitment responds, "the first task is a test, of course. We can't have weaklings that can't stomach some action."

The other one squirms in his seat. "I'm not going to kill anyone."

"Eager, are we?" the recruiter laughs. "Relax. No one's killing anyone. It's just a scare. Ruffle a few feathers. What I need is access to Liverpool's train station. The Ministry has warded places where muggles converge recently. Take them down."

"No one will die?"

"People will get hurt," the recruiter says. "But we're not killing them. Not yet."

James feels sick. Bile is climbing up his throat and he knows that if he doesn't get the fuck out of this place right now he'll do something stupid. Something that will get him killed. That's not the right thing to do—he needs to alert someone so they can protect the muggles at Liverpool's train station.

Trying to fight these two right here, right now will help no one. James is good at duelling. He's fucking amazing at it, and he knows it. But he's also just a kid. And as much as he wants to play hero, James knows, deep down, that the right thing to do is to stay hidden. That's how he saves lives, he tells himself.

Except James doesn't know when they're planning on attacking. His knees are shaking, and he's sweating profusely, but James forces his body to stay. Listen.

"Fine," the man being recruited agrees. "When?"

"Rush hour tomorrow afternoon."

James bolts out of the pub so fast he jostles a few chairs. Someone yelps in surprise, but he doesn't stop. He holds onto his cloak as hard as he can and runs.

He doesn't stop running until he's reached Honeydukes. Here, he's forced to slow down so he doesn't wake the owner who lives upstairs, above the shop. Heart pounding in his chest, blood thundering in his ears, James finds the trap door and drops down into the passage back to Hogwarts. And then he's running again. Tearing down the tunnel like the devil is on his tail because, quite frankly, he feels like it is.

He stumbles out of the tunnel. Almost rips the map in half with how quickly he pulls it out of his pocket.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," he says. Then he's running again, following the map to avoid patrols as he finds his way to Dumbledore's office.

The gargoyle stares at him, stony and solemn. James fights for his breaths. His lungs are on fire, and he feels a little dizzy. The tips of his fingers are tingling with adrenaline.

"I don't know the password," he tells the Gargoyle through his panting, his voice barely a wheeze. "But if you don't let me in to talk to Dumbledore, people are going to die." His voice catches, and a tear escapes his left eye. "Please."

The Gargoyle moves. James chokes on a sob of relief and is rushing up the staircase before the stone has even finished moving. His legs are screaming at him to ease up, to give them a break. He doesn't, flying up the staircase through the ache in his muscles and the sweat dripping down his back.

Dumbledore's office is the same way it always is, though James can't say he's been here often. Yes, he gets in trouble a lot but it's always McGonagall who deals with them. She calls them to her office, scolds them, gives them detention. Occasionally, she gives them biscuits instead. The only time James came here was after Sirius' ill-advised prank. The one that should have broken them, but that ended up bringing them closer together.

He remembers sitting here, listening to Sirius break down and sob and tell Dumbledore that he had been drinking because he didn't know how else to stop hurting. That he hadn't been thinking. He'd been barely even there. He'd said the words, let Snivellius overhear them, but he'd not really meant to. He hadn't wanted to. He'd wept, and bitten his nails to the quick.

He remembers Sirius hating himself so hard he couldn't meet Remus' eye when the boy arrived to the office, too.

He remembers Dumbledore telling Sirius he had to go see Poppy after the meeting because he'd hurt himself when he'd realised what he'd done. Making Snivellius promise he'd never tell.

James remembers Remus, torn between the anger of betrayal and the painful understanding that Sirius hadn't done that to hurt him, but to hurt himself because his demons had gotten the best of him. That something was deeply wrong with their friend, and they'd failed to help him through it, so he'd spiralled so hard and fast he'd put someone's life on the line.

Remus had gone to Tom for comfort and advice almost immediately. Leaving Dumbledore's office without looking back, and Sirius had fallen apart so thoroughly James had asked for Effie and Monty to come to Hogwarts to help.

He remembers Sirius begging to be expelled. Sirius kneeling before his parents and telling them he wasn't worth their time. Apologizing for having 'tainted James' with his friendship. James hadn't been able to stand it. He'd been on the floor, too, weeping with Sirius. Begging him to understand people made mistakes and that was human. What he'd done wasn't okay, but it was hardly going to be the end of them. James loved Sirius. All of him. The bad and dark parts, too.

James remembers Remus weeping in James' bed every late night for a week straight, because he couldn't stay with Tom, not in the Ravenclaw tower. And Tom didn't get it. Not fully. Tom didn't know Remus was a werewolf. He couldn't know. Remus never wanted to tell him. So it was James who held him as he wept and asked, over and over again, why Sirius had done this to him. Why him. Why Sirius.

He remembers the months it took to work through it. Slowly, but steadily. James forgave Sirius immediately, but Remus struggled. James never pushed. Sirius waited. He worked for it. Day after day after day. In small gestures. In big gestures. Sirius showed Remus that he loved him and that he'd learned his lesson.

He remembers when Remus finally understood the depths of Sirius' trauma. How much he was hurting. How truly horrible the things that happened to him at Grimmauld place were. It didn't excuse what he did, but it put it into context. It filled in gaps, and helped Remus see that he wasn't the only one who had to deal with something heavy. Sirius might not turn into a wolf every full moon, but he lived with the constant weight of torture at the hands of his own mother every single day.

He remembers the day that Remus forgave Sirius, and they talked. It was the first week of sixth year. He watched them on the map, up in the astronomy tower, for a whole night. They didn't come back until dawn. James suspects that's when things shifted for them, or, at the very least, when Remus became aware of how he truly felt for their friend, though he's never asked.

Sirius hasn't cried since The Prank. Not a single tear. To be perfectly honest, Sirius never truly cried before that, either. He did with James. In private. But not in front of others. Never in front of others. It was testament to how wrecked he was that he couldn't keep it in that day.

Oh. James remembers. He will never forget.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore says, coming into the office through a small door at the back that James suspects goes to his rooms. "Are you alright?"

And James wants to cry. He wants to break down. But he can't. Lives are at stake. So he takes a fortifying breath and looks Dumbledore in the eye. "I was outside the school tonight. Went to a pub in Hogsmeade. I overheard two men talking about the Dark Lord. They're planning an attack."

He has to stop, take a breath. Dumbledore is watching him intently, but he's waiting. Trusting that James will give him what he needs. "Liverpool train station. Tomorrow afternoon at rush hour. One of the men will bring the wards down. They said… he said it's a scare. A warning. The Dark Lord is rising, and more people join his cause every day."

James runs his hands through his hair. "Stop them. Please."

That's when he collapses. His body gives up, because he's fit, and young, and healthy, but he also just ran all the way from the edge of Hogsmeade into Dumbledore's office. He's had actual human lives in his hands for the very first time and what does he know about being a hero? He's only eighteen! It's terrifying, the knowledge that one mistake on his part could sentence people to their deaths. He doesn't want that responsibility. But if not him, then who? Someone has to. Someone must. This war that's brewing, that he's heard his parents whisper about… well. It's not going to be won by people who stand by and do nothing.

Still. James is fucking exhausted and overwhelmed, so he stays down on the floor.

Dumbledore moves swiftly, barking orders at his portraits. He takes out his wand and casts a patronus that he sends to Godric knows where or who. It's impressive, though. James needs to learn to do that when he's not in shock.

James is on the floor, fighting back tears and struggling to breathe normally. Dumbledore moves around him, opens his floo network and sticks his head in it. James can't hear what he says, but it doesn't matter. Dumbledore is taking charge. He's doing stuff.

He's going to stop the attack.

James lets the relief wash over him and he manages to calm his breathing a little. He's wiping the tears from his face when the door to the office opens and McGonagall steps inside. She sees James on the floor and does a double take.

"Potter! Are you alright?" she crouches next to him, helps him stand. She guides him to a chair and starts making tea. "Do you need Madame Pomfrey?"

James shakes his head. "No. I'm fine. I'm fine."

McGonagall pours him a cup of tea, then turns to face Dumbledore. "Albus! The kid is in shock. You should have called Poppy."

"This young man has just saved countless lives, Minerva. He wouldn't have wanted me to delay," he says. Then, he turns blue eyes on James and asks, "Would you?"

He shakes his head vehemently. "No, sir. Of course not. Stopping this attack is the most important thing."

McGonagall gives him a strange look, but nods. "Very well. Albus, what do you need?"

Dumbledore walks around his desk and sits on his chair. The Phoenix on its perch is sleeping. James gets it. He, too, is very tired. Dumbledore asks McGonagall several questions, then gives her instructions to contact a number of people James has never heard of before.

"Mr. Potter, please drink the tea," she says. "I'm afraid I need to take fifty points off Gryffindor for sneaking out of the school in the middle of the night."

James winces, but nods. This is fair, he supposes. It's not like Gryffindor has won the house cup a single time since he started school. People have accepted that while he and his friends are around, it's a lost cause. Still, it stings.

That is, until McGonagall smiles a little and adds, "And add a hundred and fifty points to Gryffindor for the extraordinary resilience and bravery you have shown tonight."

With that, she disappears down the staircase and leaves him alone with Dumbledore again. James is grinning. Sirius is going to have a heart attack when he hears that McGonagall smiled at him. He's never managed that, though not for lack of trying. Sirius' crush on their transfigurations professor is well known.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore says. "James. May I call you James?"

He nods, dumfounded. "Of course, sir."

"James, you did something quite impressive tonight," Dumbledore tells him. "Will you walk me through how it happened?"

James tilts his head. Hesitates. He's not about to give up the map or his cloak. Or the reason why he was in that pub to begin with. But he can also tell that Dumbledore is asking to be polite. He can demand an explanation and James will have no option but to give it.

"Well, I went to this pub…"

James tells him the story, embellishing some areas and keeping the map and the cloak secret. He says he was in the booth right behind the two men, not standing next to them. Says he used a charm to enhance his hearing. He says he was there to buy alcohol, but that the bottle broke during his mad rush to come back. Dumbledore doesn't question this. He doesn't seem to care.

When he's done, Dumbledore regards him for a long time before speaking. "I'm impressed you knew to stay your hand. Keep calm so that you could gather as much information as possible. You did the right thing. Like I told Minerva, you have saved many lives tonight, James."

"Thank you sir," he says, a little dazed to have Dumbledore compliment him.

"I understand you wish to join the auror training program when you graduate," Dumbledore says.

"Yes, sir. I thought of going pro with Quidditch, but I spoke to Frank Longbottom. I understand things are worse than the general public is led to believe, sir. I want to help," James says. "So does Sirius."

Dumbledore nods. "Very noble. Very brave. But I'm afraid the auror program is compromised. Mr. Crouch is struggling and lashing out about it. And Alastor Moody has little room to properly train his people. Voldemort has spies in the Ministry. He has influence there. It's no longer the best way to fight back."

The words land like a bucket of ice-cold water over him. Because James wants to fight. He wants to protect muggles and muggle borns. He wants to take a stand against people like the Blacks, who hurt their own child so much he can't look at himself in the mirror without flinching.

If being an auror isn't an option… well, then. There must be an alternative. And James will take it. Whatever it is.

"What do we do, sir?"

Notes:

Brief note to say that this is canon divergent so I'm playing with the timeline of things as I see fit for this story to work. Fully aware that it's unlikely James was recruited into the Order so early, but also... Dumbledore did send Harry Horcrux hunting at this same age so it's not that far-fetched. The man doesn't care if his soldiers are too young, so :)

I am also making up a few other things so please don't look for canon accuracy. Canon is a second cousin that shows up sometimes but most of the year we don't hear from them at all.

Also, SIRIUS IS DOWN SO BAD AND HE'S SO UNAWARE OF IT OMG 3

Thanks for reading!