Chapter 7: We'll be heroes

Notes:

Hello hello!

We get Wolfstar and a little, blink and you miss it, Bartylus here.

TWs for this chapter:

Mentions of violence / evidence of violence

Mentions of past child abuse (Walburga's at it again)

Swearing!

Implied internalized homophobia

Mentions of war

I think that's it! This chapter is a little shorter, but there'll be another update on Sunday!

Chapter Text

Monday morning mail is always chaotic. Loud. Regulus hates it. The owls flap their wings and make entirely too much noise. Letters and packages flutter and land with dull thuds up and down the four tables, often overturning cups of tea or making the cutlery clink. It stresses him out.

He is used to it, though, so Regulus remains impassive through it. He carries on eating his breakfast as a letter drops in Dorcas' lap, smacking the toast she's eating out of her hand in the process. He doesn't flinch when Evan receives the newspaper and it knocks over his tea, which spills all over Barty's trousers so he jumps out of his seat cussing Evan's owl out. Regulus doesn't even look up from his eggs and his black coffe.

Barty's mother's owl drops a letter on Barty's toast. He gives it the evil eye, and doesn't bother picking it up until he's used his wand to dry his trousers. He sits back down, stares the letter down like he might set it on fire with his mind.

Regulus never receives mail, so he's very much not paying attention when the owl drops a package that hits him over the head before bouncing on the table and knocking over his coffee. He watches the dark stain spread with mournful eyes before glaring up at the owl, indignant.

He doesn't recognize the owl. Never seen it before. It's large, and well cared for. Its feathers are glossy, full. Intelligent eyes watch him, probably waiting for a treat it is not going to get. Not after spilling his coffee.

"Whose are you?" He murmurs under his breath, turning the package in his hands. It's small and light. Wrapped a little clumsily in simple, brown paper.

He brings it to his ear and gives it a little shake, but nothing rattles inside. Hmm.

Regulus starts peeling the paper wrapping before his brain catches up with his actions and his hands still. He doesn't know who sent this, or what it is. It could be a prank of some sort. It could be… what could it be? The only people he can think of that would want to send him something are sitting with him, all distracted by their letters or, in Evan's case, by the Daily Prophet.

It could be from home but that's unlikely. His mother has never sent him anything before. Walburga Black isn't the sort to send him a surprise gift. She does buy him stuff. More stuff than he needs. Walburga is obsessed with giving Regulus the best of everything—see the collection of brooms he's accumulated over the past few years. It's as though she thinks buying him shit makes up for the lack of everything else.

It never worked with Sirius—he was so over material stuff. He'd reject it all and throw tantrums that ended with him getting hurt. Or starved. Or both. It doesn't really work with Regulus either, but he's smarter. He's always been. So he knows to thank and nod when the gifts are given, and Walburga stays mostly out of his way. Except her presents always come on a day when it makes sense. His birthday. Christmas. The day before going back to school. Walburga Black isn't a spontaneous woman. And Orion doesn't breathe without permission from his wife, so obviously it's not from him.

Regulus should be more concerned, but the honest truth is that he's curious. If anyone's playing a prank on him, he'll take great pleasure in trunking it and then planning payback. He's curious and wants to see what's in this little unexpected gift he's received. Just not here.

Regulus pockets the package without opening it.

"Oh wow," Barty exclaims all of a sudden. "What the hell happened to him?"

"Huh?" Regulus looks up, follows Barty's line of sight. The air punches out of his lungs.

James is late for breakfast. This isn't a big deal. Everyone's late for breakfast every now and then. But he… James looks like he had a fight with a banshee and lost it. He's dishevelled, and walks as thought his legs can't carry him properly. There's a defeated air to him and a bruise starting to bloom over his jaw. Right where Regulus touched him in the infirmary.

"He looks like shit," Barty comments, which makes Regulus give him the side eye. "I didn't know Potter could look like shit."

Regulus reminds himself he has to breathe.

Dorcas is looking at Barty with a calculating expression in her eyes. One that Regulus totally understands because since when does Barty notice what James looks like? Evan has put down the newspaper and is squinting at Potter, lips pursed with concern, though Regulus suspects it's not so much about James' state but the fact that Barty is noticing James' state. Barty seems to have picked up on the weird vibe and is back to reading his mother's letter.

Regulus has managed to inhale and exhale without making a fool of himself. Now, his priority is getting a grip so he stays where he is instead of interrogating the entire school at wand point to find out what happened. Something is going on and Regulus hates not knowing what it is.

First his hands, now this. Is someone hurting James? Well, that's stupid. Someone obviously is hurting James. And Regulus is going to kill them. Slowly. Painfully. He's going to drag it out and he's going to enjoy it.

Regulus scans the hall. No one looks guilty or pleased. People look a little shocked. Heads turn to watch as James walks to the Gryffindor table and plops down next to Sirius.

Regulus watches Sirius fuss over James. He takes his face in his hands and turns it this way and that, talking to James the entire time. James smiles, says something back. Sirius examines the bruise, getting so close to James' face they could be kissing. And yet, James is one hundred percent unbothered by Sirius' closeness or touch.

Regulus' gut clenches, a fist squeezing tight. So tight it hurts. He should look away. But James looks so… tired. Defeated. Like his light has dimmed a little bit. And he hates it. More than he hates him, and himself for this stupid fucking crush, Regulus hates whatever it is that made James' light dim.

"You think someone broke up with him?" Dorcas asks.

"No," Regulus says sharply. "He's bruised. He got into a fight."

Dorcas tilts her head, her braids falling over her shoulder. "How do you know?"

Regulus is distracted, and irritated, and frankly a little out of it so he's careless. He's careless with his words. With his expressions. "Bruise on his jaw. Right where Sirius is touching him."

"Hmm," Dorcas says.

Evan narrows his eyes at Regulus. "Why do you sound like that?"

Regulus straightens immediately. He does sound a little irritated. Which fair, he is, because someone is hurting James and it's not him. He doesn't like. Still. His friends can't find out. Fuck. He can't do this. Not now. Not ever. He needs to get out of here before someone puts two and two together. Salazar fucking Slytherin, he'd rather die than be found out.

"I'm enjoying it," he says, sliding out of the bench to stand. "Pity whoever hit Potter didn't hit a bit harder. It's a shame he's still standing."

Barty barks a laugh. "You're a menace, Reg."

A late owl arrives, drops a second letter on Barty's lap. It cleans the smile right off his face immediately and Regulus knows it's from his father. Barty won't react well when he reads it. And Regulus cannot be here right now, not while his insides are boiling because James was hurt and he doesn't know who did it. Evan can help Barty this time. With his father's letter. Regulus simply doesn't have the space.

Regulus stands abruptly, tilts his head towards the exit. "See you in class."

Dorcas protests, but he doesn't stop. Doesn't look back.

Regulus feels the package burn a hole in his pocket all day, but he has back to back classes and no time to examine it until the afternoon. He's also found it hard to concentrate on anything today, because the entire school is talking about James Potter and the fight he obviously had. Speculation is running rampant, especially because nobody has claimed credit for bruising Potter's face.

Regulus is annoyed. He wants to know who did it so he can… so he can hurt them. A part of him is a little impressed, because James is a great wizard. That is fact and it helps no one to try to deny it. So, he was either caught off guard, or attacked by an even better wizard. There aren't many students who could best him. Sirius could, but Regulus knows Sirius would rather die than hurt James.

He scoffs, then realises he's scoffed out loud at his own thoughts in the middle of a charms lesson and panics. He's unravelling and it's ridiculous. He needs to get a fucking grip before someone notices.

"Hey, what the fuck is up with you?" Barty asks him under his breath. They're sharing a desk today. Regulus can't remember why. Barty usually shares with Evan, but he's in front of them with the Greengrass girl.

He scowls at Barty, then looks towards the front of the classroom again. "No," Barty says. "That's not going to work with me, Reg. You've been weird all day. Weirder than usual."

"Have I?" Regulus drawls. He twists the ring on his middle finger for something to do with his hands.

Barty looks down, then shocks the fuck out of Regulus by putting his hand over his, stilling his fingers. Regulus is so thrown he doesn't know what to do. How to react. He stills completely. He's barely breathing.

His friends know. They don't touch him.

What is Barty doing?

Barty leans closer. "I saw you got something in the mail today. Was it Walburga?" He looks at him intently, earnestly. "You know I get it. Shit parents are my lot, too."

Regulus can't respond. He looks down at their hands, then back up at Barty, trying to communicate to him that his brain isn't going to stop short-circuiting until Barty stops touching him.

It takes Barty a moment, then he realises what's causing Regulus so much distress. "Is it because I'm touching you or is it because a boy is holding your hand?"

Regulus chokes on his own breath. His fingers twitch under Barty's. What is happening? What is Barty doing? Help. Regulus cannot. He just… cannot. Not with this, whatever this is. Also, they're in the middle of a fucking Charms lesson. Has he lost his mind?

"Barty," Regulus manages to say through clenched teeth. "What the fuck?"

Barty's used to Regulus. He's unfazed by the swearing or the snapping. Regulus could punch him right now and Barty would laugh it off. "Answer me." And then Barty says the one thing Regulus wasn't expecting. "Please."

And well. Barty is his friend. He's been his friends for years. The first friend he made in school, because the moment the sorting hat shouted Slytherin, Sirius started to distance himself from him. Barty was there, waiting at the table. He made room for Regulus and introduced himself, full cheeks and a wide smile.

And most importantly. Barty knows how much Regulus hates being touched. He knows. He respects it. He has respected it for years. So, if Barty is doing this right now it's because perhaps Barty needs it.

Fuck.

What if Barty needs this? Can he give it to him? He doesn't know. Because there's the frost, and the cage of bones, and as much as Regulus wants to be enough for his friends… well. Sometimes he isn't. Sometimes he can't.

Still. He can do something. Give him something. A smidge, because he can't with the whole thing. So Regulus swallows and looks at Barty, doing his level best to get past the discomfort of having someone else's hand over his. "I don't like being touched," Regulus says quietly. "By anyone."

Barty's hand retreats immediately, but he stays close. "Cool."

Regulus holds Barty's gaze. Now that he's not touching him, he's composed again. Collected. He doesn't flinch as Barty leans closer still. This is insane, Regulus thinks. Barty has lost his head. He's always been a little reckless, a little crazy. But this? Whole new level.

They are at the very back of the Charms classroom, so no one can see them unless they turn around to look. Still. Regulus isn't sure what Barty is trying to do. Trying to prove. He just knows their Charms lesson isn't the time for it.

It's then that Regulus notices Barty isn't breathing.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Regulus asks.

He stays, though. He doesn't move. He can feel the heat from Barty's skin, close as he is. It makes him want to retreat, but Regulus isn't a coward. He won't be a coward. He can sense Barty is testing him somehow. He'll pass the test. Whatever it takes.

Barty retreats. Just like that. No warning. No explanation. He sits back on his chair, then reaches inside his pocket and takes out a letter. Regulus recognises the handwriting immediately.

And he understands. Barty's right that shit parents are a lot they share in life. Because Barty's father is even worse than Walburga. Walburga at least tries to pamper Regulus, even if she's bad at it. Bartemious Crouch only cares about his public image. Nothing else. His son is either a tool to further his agenda or an obstacle to move out of the way.

"Read it," Barty says, sliding the letter across the desk towards Regulus.

He pushes it back. "No."

Barty scowls at him. "I said read it."

Regulus shrugs. "I don't have to. Your father said something stupid, and you want to get back at him."

Barty watches him, an eyebrow starting to twitch. It's a little tell he has, when he's nervous or scared. It's only just now hitting Regulus how much fucking courage it must have taken Barty to get that close. To touch his hand. Barty isn't like Dorcas. If he's discovering something like that about himself, he's not going to handle it in a healthy way.

Hence the strange come-on to Regulus in the middle of a fucking charms lesson.

Honestly, Regulus thinks himself intelligent. How it took him this long to put it together is beyond him.

"He's not a good enough reason, Barty," Regulus says.

"What do you mean?"

"If you want to shag a dude, do it for you. Not to get back at him."

Now, it's Barty's turn to choke on his own breath. He starts coughing, and it's so loud it gets the attention of Professor Flitwick. He calls the class to attention, asks Barty is he's okay. Barty manages to confirm he is. The class resumes.

Evan's gaze lingers for a moment, but Regulus nods to let him know he's got this.

Barty takes a deep breath, then pockets his father's letter. Tapping his fingers on the desk, he gives Regulus a sidelong glance. "Is that what you do?"

Regulus doesn't take the bait. "I don't like to be touched."

"At all?" There's a small crack in Barty's voice. It's barely there, but Regulus can't ignore it. He can't, because Barty is his friend, and he's doing his best to reach out towards Regulus about something that's scary for him.

Regulus's heart is frozen. A cage of bones around it. Hard, and dead, and rough. But there was a time when it wasn't. And Barty was the first person to show Regulus the meaning of friendship. Back when Regulus didn't mind hugs, Barty was the first person other than his own brother to give him one. And they've grown, and things have got more complex because they're boys and boys don't really talk about feelings that much. Certainly not Regulus, anyway.

And yet, here Barty is. Asking for help the best he can. Regulus cannot ignore him. He won't.

"Well, no," Regulus admits. "I think I could enjoy it, with the right person."

Barty lets out a long exhale. He opens his mouth to ask something else. Say something else. But Flitwick dismisses the lesson. It comes out of nowhere. Regulus didn't even notice the hour was up.

They pack their bags in silence and file out of the classroom. Evan catches up with them, but before Barty goes back to his usual self, he gives Regulus a secret, grateful smile. Just for him.

Regulus commits it to memory.

James is fucking aching. Everywhere. He's sore in places one shouldn't be sore. It's a little embarrassing, but there's nothing he can do about it. He's barely got through the day. The truth is that he only managed because Sirius hasn't left his side for a single minute. At one point, James was being dragged down the corridor by Sirius and Remus because his legs were just not cooperating. He is that exahusted and beat.

He regrets nothing.

Because by duelling Alastor Moody last night, James has earned a place in the Order of Phoenix. He's so pleased with himself he could run a million laps around the lake—once his body recovers from the ordeal. Alastor Moody is a mean dueller. He's also James' new crush, in a platonic, you're so impressive I want to be you when I grow up kind of way. The man has moves. He's a little unhinged, but James doesn't mind crazy. Especially not when it results in such impressive skills.

"We're almost there," Sirius grunts, practically carrying James up the stairs to their dorm all by himself.

They're alone, half-way up the stairs. Remus has gone to the infirmary to sweet-talk Poppy into giving him some potions to help James recover faster. Peter is in the greenhouses because he's got advanced herbology and the class runs for an extra hour on Monday afternoons.

"I need a moment," James wheezes.

Sirus stops, looks at him. Then he scoops James up bride-style and carries him the rest of the way. Sirius kicks the door to their dorm open and they stumble inside together. "Fuck, Prongs, you're heavy," Sirius grunts.

They don't even make it to one of their beds, instead collapsing on the floor which has so many discarded clothes it's practically a mattress.

James groans, and rolls onto his back. "Godric have mercy."

Sirius shakes his head, rolls onto his back next to James so they're both side by side, facing the ceiling. "Tell me everything."

James smiles, despite the pain. Sirius has been waiting all day to hear the details, because James couldn't talk openly about the Order where they could be overheard. Knowing his best-friend, his brother, James has no doubt it's been literal torture for him. And yet, he has dutifully waited, and helped James get through the day without complaining once. Okay, maybe he's complained a couple times, but James won't hold that against him.

"I went to Hogsmeade because Remus dared me to," James says. He feels like absolute garbage lying to Sirius, but he cannot tell him the real reason he was in the village.

Regulus.

James wonders if he's smoked a cigarette yet. If he smiled when he saw them and the note. He wanted to check, but he couldn't look during breakfast without Sirius noticing. Not with how Sirius was losing it over James' bruises. And then he didn't have a chance at lunchtime because they were all running late, what with James being half-dead on his feet and all. James wants to think about Regulus. Except not now. He cannot think about Regulus now.

Sirius hums like this excuse is perfectly plausible, which it is. James has never, ever, not taken someone up on a dare.

"Anyway, I was there, with my cloak, and in this dingy pub at the edge of town," James explains. "And I heard these two talking about an attack on muggles. It was… I wanted to do something right there and then. But like… I knew it would be stupid. I didn't know enough, and I thought other people were involved in this so just by attacking these two I wasn't really protecting anyone, you know? So I just… stayed hidden and listened."

"That is why you're the Quidditch Captain and I'm a measly beater," Sirius jokes. "I would have started throwing hexes left right and centre."

James chuckles, then groans because it hurts. "I know."

"So, what did you do?" Sirius prompts.

"I hauled ass back to the castle as soon as I got what I needed and went to Dumbledore. He believed me immediately and started giving orders to his portraits, then he called Minnie," James smirks at Sirius, who's turned his face towards his friend.

Sirius' eyebrows shoot up. "You didn't tell me Minnie was involved!"

"I'm telling you now," James says, beaming. "It was brilliant, Pads. Dumbledore was so… just so impressive. He sent a patronus with a message, too. We need to get on that. Learn to do it. Then McGonagall arrived and she smiled at me!"

"NO."

"Yes!"

Sirius immediatelly starts rolling on the floor, wailing. "How could you, Prongs? You know how I feel about her! How could you steal the true love of my life from me?!" He's so dramatic, throwing a full on tantrum over a single smile.

James laughs, then grunts. "Fuck, Pads. Don't make me laugh. It hurts."

Sirius stops, looks at him. He's indignant, and it's so fucking funny James struggles not to chortle again. "You deserve it! I can't believe you got her to smile at you."

Sirius flops onto his back again, dramatically leaving his arms limp at his sides. His hair fans around his head, black and glossy and frankly outlandish for a dude. Sirius is extremely proud of it.

"Do you want to hear about the duel or not?" James asks, raising both his eyebrows to emphasize his point.

Sirius crawls over the clothes to get close to James again. He bats his eyelashes at him angelically. "Go on."

His eyes are shinning. Sirius loves an adventure. It's his reckless side, the thrill-seeking side. The side responsible for many epic nights, more than a fair share of injuries, but always, always, a good time no matter what.

James props himself up on his elbow, tries to remain solemn. "After Minnie left, Moody arrived. You know, the second in charge of the Auror department in the ministry."

Sirius nods. "My parents hate him almost as much as they hate Crouch."

"Well, he shows up, right? And Dumbledore is all like… 'James, you've saved lives today and shown skill that we are in need of' and I'm fucking preening like a peacock Pads. Imagine. Dumbledore is telling me I have skill!"

Sirius is nodding vigorously.

James continues. "He wants to recruit me, right? Says the auror program is compromised because Voldemort has spies in the ministry and it's getting harder and harder to fight back that way."

Sirius' eyes are twinkling. He's so excited his cheeks are a little flush. "Right, so the Order, yes? That's what you said."

"Exactly. The Order of the Phoenix," James says, and if his voice sounds a little dreamy, who can blame him? It's a secret organization fighting against evil. Little kid James Potter would have a stroke if he knew he'd one day be recruited into his dream. He's going to save the world! With his friends!

"And to get in you have to duel Moody?" Sirius asks, eager. Earnest.

"Yes. It's tough, Sirius. He's so fucking good. He handed me my ass," James says, grimacing. "But you don't have to beat him. You just have to prove you've got skill. That you won't freeze."

Sirius sits up, hands fluttering around him excitedly. He wears rings, too. James tries to ignore this because it reminds him of Regulus. He doesn't want to think about Regulus when he's with Sirius.

Sirius looks at the floor, purposely avoiding James' eyes. He takes of his thumb ring, then puts it back on, a nervous tick James recognises. "Do you think they'll let me try?" Sirius asks, chewing his bottom lip. "They don't have to. Obviously. I wouldn't let me try. I mean, I'm a Black. But maybe? I would be so good, Prongs. I'd do anything."

James smiles at him from where he's lying on the floor. "You didn't think I let them recruit me into a crime fighting organization without one or two demands, did you?"

Sirius' eyes go very wide, a wild grin starting to twist his mouth up.

"I said I'd only join if they brought you in, too," James says earnestly. "Moody will duel you on Sunday in Hogsmeade. Remus, too. And Pete."

"Fuck yes!" Sirius launches himself at James. James grunts, because it hurts, but he doesn't let go.

Sirius hugs him tight. Both boys on the floor, tangled up in each other in a way that makes it hard to tell where one starts and the other ends. And this is how it should be, because James doesn't know who he is without Sirius, and Sirius isn't without James. They're brothers. Best friends. Soulmates.

Actually, James is pretty certain that a word hasn't been invented for what they share, which is just as well, because it's unique. It's theirs. And it's forever.

Remus doesn't bat an eye when he walks in and finds a Sirius and James bundle on the floor in the middle of the room. He sits down cross-legged next to them and listens attentively as James and Sirius re-tell the entire thing for him.

Now that Sirius has heard the story, he fills in gaps. There's another dramatic display of histrionics when James tells Remus that McGonagall smiled a him, which makes Remus look at Sirius with a fondness James wants to bottle and keep on his nightstand so he can give it to Sirius when he has nightmares.

Somehow, during the tale, Sirius has found his way towards Remus and is now resting his head on Remus' lap, thought his legs are still very much tangled with James'. They let him, because they both know Sirius needs this. Proximity. Touch that doesn't hurt. Warmth and love like he never knew in the house he could never call home.

"So, get this, Moony," Sirius says, looking up at Remus from his lap. Remus looks down, smiling at him. "We're duelling Moody on Sunday to be recruited into the Order, too."

Remus' mouth falls open. He glances at James. "Really? Me too?"

James' heart bleeds then. For this friend. For the uncertainty on his face. The tentative hope in his voice, like he cannot believe they'd let him. He bleeds because Remus is always like this. Always thinking he isn't good enough. That he's second choice. Never worthy of the good things that happen to him.

He's so much like Sirius in some ways it makes sense to James why they're struggling to work out their feelings.

"Yes, Remus. You too," James says firmly. "They had no issue with it. Believe it or not, Moody was excited to have a werewolf join the ranks. They think it helps to have different perspectives. And I told them you're fucking good at DADA."

Remus' cheeks are crimson. He opens his mouth, closes it again. Sirius tugs at the front of his shirt to get his attention. "Moony? You're fucking good at DADA."

James holds his breath, because Remus looks like he's about to do something. He needs to give them room. But he's in pain and just genuinely exhausted.

"Yes?" Remus asks, still looking down at Sirius.

James takes one of the potions Remus brought with him and slowly pushes himself away so he can sit up and drink it. Neither Sirius nor Remus are paying him attention.

"Yes," Sirius says. His hand is still tangled in the front of Remus' shirt. "And the Order of the Phoenix is going to be fucking lucky to have you. Okay?"

James drinks the potion. His heart is hammering in his chest like he's the one having a moment with the guy he likes, but seriously. This is an important moment. James can feel it in the marrow of his bones. If Remus just… if he closes the distance between them, Sirius is going to let him. James knows.

"Okay," Remus says. It's so soft James barely hears it.

"Good," Sirius replies. Then, he blinks, looks at the hand still tugging Remus' shirt and lets go.

James has to bite back a frustrated groan.

"I'm tired, Moony," Sirius says. "Been dragging Progs around the school all day."

Remus hums, a small smile on his lips. "Right. And that's my problem because…?"

Sirius grins up at him, and James has never seen that grin directed at anyone other than Remus. He's not surprise Remus folds like a sunchair. Without another word, Remus hand plunges into Sirius' hair and he begins to run his fingers over his scalp. It's something only Remus does. He did it for the first time one day in third year when Sirius got a nasty letter from his mother and wouldn't stop sobbing and Sirius hasn't let him stop since. Not even James touches Sirius' hair like that.

Sirius makes a noise that sounds alarmingly cat-like, especially coming from someone whose animagus is a dog. But James doesn't comment. He simply lets his head fall back and closes his eyes. He's tired, but he's home and the people he loves are safe. He can rest for a little while.