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The first dream came on the warm March eve of James’ birthday.    He was in the Forbidden Forest.    The feeling he felt was important-- not his own importance, but the situation. Something tremendous in magnitude was about to take place, and he was to be a part of it. In fact, he somehow felt he played a key role in bringing this particular event to fruition. Yes, he knew what it was. Fate. Fate was calling his name.    Eagerly, James opened his eyes.    While his surroundings were familiar, they also contrasted very harshly with reality; above him, the moon waned, full and bright, as if completely unaware that the true full moon had already passed more than a week ago, below him hopped about a variety of animals, all ghost-like in their slight transparency and wispy-ness, and around him, the thick underbrush of the forest swirled and flowed wondrously, not unlike many of the paintings cluttering the corridors of Hogwarts. The smooth breeze carried a sense of calm with it, rustling the leaves around him with soft fingers. Just up ahead lay a cobblestone path, crumbling and mossy with age. None of the animals seemed inclined to stray there, but it called to him without a voice. Come, it said. Your destiny awaits.     Without hesitation, he started toward the mysterious path—  it was his dream, why shouldn’t he do as he pleased? Each step clipped against the cobblestone as he ventured forth, and, upon looking down, James realized he was in his animagus form. It didn’t surprise him in the least, for this was a common theme in his dreams lately. He simply adapted and continued down the path, which had now begun leading further and further into darkness.     Slowly but surely, James made his way to the end of the cobblestone pathway. The trees had only grown in density as he went, and were now so dense that he could hardly see in front of him. The trail petered to a stop, but before him lay a small opening in the bracken— large enough for a small dog, perhaps, but too small for a stag. The light that shone through it seemed to glow with promise. It suddenly struck him with dream-like certainty that something was waiting for him within. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did; something was waiting for him on the other side, and it was imperative he reach it as soon as possible.    Why, what an easily solved problem! It made him snort in a stag-like chuckle. With slow grace, he brought his head close to the ground and extended a front leg. In two simple, sharp movements, his great crown of antlers had torn the brush to pieces and made an opening big enough for him to squeeze through. The princely stag lowered its head once more, this time to cross the barrier and pass into the entryway he'd made for himself.     A mixture of exhilaration and apprehension met him as he did so, for as soon as he entered the light, James knew that he had reached the heart of the forest. It murmured in the soil beneath his hooves and whispered on the wind, as if telling him secrets waiting to be heard for eons. Curiouser still, what lay beyond the thicket of underbrush was a large tree, standing tall and alone in the middle of a vast clearing, with a glimmering pool of water at its roots. Moss and lichen hung from every limb like Christmas tinsel and fireflies floated through the air, blinking loftily and illuminating the scene with soft golden light. Somehow, it felt as if all magic flowed from this very place— not the Forbidden Forest, but where he was in the dream, for it gave every sense that it wasn’t tied to any one location or moment in time.     He stepped up to the edge of the shining pool, and peered down at it with wonder. It sparkled like ever so many stars, collected from the heavens and left to spill their magic into the water. James was just about to satisfy his curiosity and taste this dream, when something stopped him. He was being approached.    Across the pool, a strikingly elegant, fluffy cat was looking at him with the most peculiar expression. This cat wasn’t like any of the other animals running about earlier, this one was solid— and oh, so beautiful. It was apparent that this was the only other ‘person’ present in this strange dimension.     Intrigued, James opened his mouth to say something, but remembered in the next moment that stags couldn’t speak. Instead, he tilted his head to the side curiously.     His feline friend seemed amused by this, flicking its tail lazily and smiling in that cat-like way.    He cocked his head to the other side, as if asking the same question again. Who are you?     The stranger understood the question, but gave no indication that it was to be answered. Without any warning, the cat turned the other way and ran toward the edge of the clearing. Perhaps it would have turned back to make sure James was following, but there was no need. The stag was already bounding after the cat, magical pool, tree and clearing all but forgotten. Just as the cat broke through the underbrush to dash away, James reached the spot it’d just been in. He felt a flicker of frustration— he was never the one left behind— but it soon subsided as he continued the hunt. The exhilaration of winding through the trees as fast as his legs could carry him never got old, but this time he could feel the suspense practically coursing through his veins. With every rustle and glimpse of fur ahead of him, he was only propelled further by his curiosity. He had the feeling that if he could just catch up— just find it— then he’d find something valuable beyond measure.     Finally, he saw the end. Up ahead James could see the edge of the forest, and the grassy field beyond. Relief, closely followed by triumph, made his pounding heart soar. His quarry slowed— there was nowhere to run. The red stag pressed on more urgently and prepared himself for a leap, eager to reach the conclusion of this great chase.    He’d been just seconds away from the cat— close enough to pick up its scent, in fact— but it was as if he’d blinked and it’d disappeared. Not only that, but the exit seemed to have disappeared along with it. Dark, heavy trees loomed from all sides and blocked out the moon, dreadfully more sinister than he’d ever seen them in the real Forbidden Forest. Everything seemed very still, and very eerie.     Suddenly, he found himself lost, and a little confused.     Frantically, he searched for a way out, even for the cat— but it was gone.     And for the first time, James was alone.        He awoke with a groan; his bed clothes were soaked through with sweat, and he could feel his hair sticking to his forehead. James tried to throw his blankets aside, but they were tangled around his legs. He kicked aggressively. They remained stubbornly. He gave a sigh of exasperation and finally grabbed the covers to pull them off himself. What he uncovered, however, caused a completely visceral reaction.    “AUGH!!”    Immediately, the entire Gryffindor boys’ dormitory was awake and alert.    It was a Saturday.    “What the hell, James?” Remus’ voice came from the other side of his bed curtains, irritated and tired. He was the most sensitive of the Marauders when it came to sleep, as he never had enough of it.    On the right, the curtains parted and Sirius’ wildly messy head of hair poked in with annoyance. “Y’know Prongs, we don’t all need to know when you’ve had a particularly good dream.” But his expression changed when he noticed what had actually been the cause for his outburst.    Just below his elbow, Peter peeked in curiously. “What’s wrong, James? What happened?”    He purposefully didn’t answer them at first— really, it was a little difficult to know what to say.    There, right on his forearm, was a birthmark that hadn’t been there the night before.    Sirius chuckled, as if this was the wisecrack of the century. “Happy birthday, stud!” It only got worse; he started to laugh—  first stifled, and then at full volume. Next to him, Peter’s worried expression automatically switched to a hesitant smile, hoping to be part of the joke despite not knowing what was going on.    To the left, the curtains were ripped aside to reveal Remus, tall and tired and furious. “ Please ,” — Peter ducked behind Sirius a little further— “ enlighten me….” Padfoot’s laughter had ceased, but he was still smirking. Apparently this amused him, too. “ Why you three find it so bloody fun to be up at all hours of the night?”    “Prongs got his soulmark, Moony.” His smile spread into a toothy grin. “Take a look.”    James, in perfect dramatic fashion, only stared at it numbly. He might’ve told Pads to shut up if he weren’t so crushed.    Remus raised his eyebrows with disdain, not happy with the answer, but accepting it anyway. There was no point in staying angry, especially not when James was about to have a mid-life crisis at sixteen. He was the youngest, and so, the last to gain destiny’s mark. “Well?”    James, heavy with dread, stuck his arm out for Remus to see. His eyes were closed in pain. “That doesn’t look like a doe to you, does it?” He’d already seen it of course, but magic could be unpredictable sometimes— maybe it changed with time, or—  please please please please pl-     “Ermmm… not really.”    He took his arm back and groaned, then squinted for a better look. Remus handed him his glasses, which he’d only begun wearing that year, and he crammed them on his face. The shape was a little bit clearer now. It was...    … A fluffy cat…    His eyes widened in realization, and in that split second, the dream from the night before flooded back into his memory like a river undamned. The forest, the tree, the pool— and then, the lonely end.     But Sirius’ laughter interrupted his thought process. “I suppose this means Lily was right after all.”    James shot him a dirty look, but it didn’t do anything to help the dull ache in his chest. “ Nothing about this to anyone. ” He waited until Sirius nodded his consent, then looked to Moony, who shrugged as if it were obvious he wouldn’t say a thing. “Good. Now, let’s pretend this never happened and celebrate my bloody birthday!” He clapped his hands together with a newfound grin. Enough of this nonsense.    The boys dispersed as if released by their team captain, going about their business to get ready for the day.    Daylight shone in through the window warmly. James sat for a moment, running a thumb over the new mark on his skin. Despite his troubles, he felt an unshakeable feeling of harmony.    ...It hadn’t been that bad of a dream, after all.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Happy Birthday James!!”

As soon as they reached the common room, James was swarmed with Gryffindors wishing him a happy birthday and handing him presents. It wasn’t everyone in their year, but it was pretty damn close. He accepted them all with a smile and a thank you of course, (as he’d been taught,) but toward the end just began directing people to pile them by his bed upstairs. It wasn’t like he could sit there saying his thank yous until Christmas, now could he? No, there were more important things to do—  like Lily Evans. Er-

speaking

to Lily Evans.
 
    It had been a couple months since James last spoke to Lily without it being uncomfortably stiff and awkward, and not just because she’d been grumpy since the whole ‘M word’ incident— it was this soulmate thing. After mentioning it on her birthday, the conversation had gone catastrophically.

‘Happy Birthday Evans- ‘you find my mark on you this morning?’

A perfectly harmless question, that’s all it’d been, though perhaps not his best manners— but the fiery look in Lily’s eyes was hair-raising. She informed him that no, she hadn’t found his ‘mark’ on her that morning, and that she never

would

as a matter of fact, so he ought to just quit harassing her like this and mind his own business. All in front of the entire Great Hall— what a humiliation. It might’ve been bearable if she’d stormed out, but no. She sat there, brazen and jaded, facing him head on like he was some kind of brute. Of course, his only choice had been to grab his things and leave without breakfast. (He ‘wasn’t hungry anyway.’) No doubt Snivellus was over at the Slytherin table rubbing his grubby hands together, relishing in that little dispute. Slimy bastard.

While James may have put on a (somewhat) casual facade during classes, during his time with the gang he’d just sat and sulked. The whole ordeal had troubled him terribly— without Lily, a large chunk of his life was missing. Or at least, that’s how it felt. For years, every vision of the future had included her; the wedding, the house, the children— but with this, poof! Up in smoke. And as his sole confidantes, Remus, Peter, and Sirius were all subjected to two halves of a very annoying coin; either long tirades about how he and Lily just ‘clicked’ and were meant to be together, or dejected, sullen silence. None of their usual efforts to cheer him up made a difference. He couldn't let it go. By the time the full moon came around, he was even refusing to go marauding— Remus almost ran himself into the lake because of it. James knew he was becoming a problem, and he didn't care.

The boys didn’t know

what

to do about it, but it didn’t take long before they decided to have a talk with him.

In an effort to cheer up the leader of the pack, they’d sat in the warm common room instead of with the other pupils in the Great Hall. He seemed relatively unaffected.

“James, this has gone on long enough.” It was Sirius, the only one willing to start such a potentially rocky conversation. He lounged in an armchair across from him, trying his best to sound reasonable. “You can’t stay chaser if you don’t practice.”

Remus, tall and firm, stood behind him in support. The stern frown on his brow was broken by worry. He nudged Sirius from behind then, trying to be discreet as he murmured something in his ear. After listening, he nodded and continued, albeit less firmly. “And Moony says you shouldn’t let your grades suffer like this.” Remus poked him in the back. “

Oww..

” He rubbed the spot with consternation.

“Oh, I barely nudged you.”

Wormtail came up beside him then, resting his arms on James’ chair and taking the opportunity to speak. “We haven’t done anything fun in months.”

He looked at them all, chewing his cheek. “I dunno, men. I’ve been cut off at the knees. She's all I can think about. And now this soulmate thing…”

That was the moment Moony took to stop bickering with Padfoot and speak for himself. This had gone on long enough, and apparently once his cover was blown as keeping an eye on everyone, it didn’t make a difference either way. “Don’t tell me you plan to spend the rest of the school year moping? Your whole life isn't dependent on that mark, or on Lily. Are you really going to let this break your spirit?"

“

You

, king of the Forbidden Forest, and leader of the Marauders?” Peter chimed in.

Remus muttered, “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t we-?” But he was interrupted by Sirius’ final comment.

“We need Prongs out there, mate. You're not just our brother, you're our rock.”

That’d shut them all up. Everyone agreed; Moony shrugged and smiled, while Padfoot looked on hopefully and Wormtail nodded eagerly. Together, they’d made a compelling argument. That, and James was always a sucker for ‘we need you’.

“Oh, all right." He couldn't help the smile creeping onto his lips. "But you three owe me a butterbeer— each!” What would he do without them?

Now, a few months after their pep-talk, James no longer felt any doubt in himself or his actions. He approached Lily Evans in the Great Hall, waving the other Marauders anxious looks away as he did. This could only go smoothly.

James plopped his bag next to the poor girl before she could even notice, and sat down right next to it. Dark hair perfectly ruffled and smile beaming, he tried to ignore the uneasy look on her face. “‘Morning Lily— looking lovely as ever this morning.”

“Hello, James. Happy birthday.” Unlike the rest of his house-mates, her voice was apprehensive when she congratulated him. Lily’s reactions were always so unexpectedly frank in their polite unfriendliness toward him now that it was a little hard to maintain composure.

Alice Fortescue gave a sheepish little wave from behind.

"Hi, Alice." James cleared his throat and went on nevertheless. “I know it’s a sore subject, but I wanted to show you something.” This was where he looked at Alice pointedly to give them some time alone, to which she responded with a raised eyebrow. Lily sighed and nodded for her to leave. She didn’t look pleased to leave them alone together, but picked up her things and did so anyway. “Thanks. As I was saying— ” He began to roll up his sleeve, but didn’t have time to finish.

“No, you listen to me.” James was practically dumbfounded by her interruption, which she took as an opportunity to continue. There was a soft sorrow in her voice that surprised him. “You need to stop this.”

“Lily, I’ve told you before, I can accept that our soulmarks— ”

“James, I don't want to hear any more.”

But he wasn’t done, and the further he went the more he felt he had to complete his thought. It felt as if this was his last chance to plead his case, and he just couldn’t let that go. Everything came bubbling back up again. “I don’t care if I’m not your soulmate, I’ll love you just the same, you know—”

“You need to move on from me, James.”

“--That isn't even what I came to speak to you about— ”

“It’s

Severus

.”

That shut him up almost immediately. Severus? His mind began to reel— slowly at first, then very quickly, like the starting of a train engine— which made it very difficult to think of what to say.

Snape

, the greasy, pasty-skinned vampire from Slytherin? Surely they weren’t thinking of the same one? How could

he,

an absolute wretch, be destined for a creature so beautiful; the girl with fire for hair and a smile as warm and bright as the sun? It was almost impossible for him to comprehend. “...Severus?” He was back in that cold, dark place again, the place he’d been since her birthday.

“Yes.”

“But.. he called you a mudblood.”

She winced at that word, still sharp to the ear no matter the context. There was a glance toward the Slytherin table before she said, much more quietly, “We’re talking about it, not that it's any of your business.”

James shook his head numbly. “You’ve

got

to be kidding me.” He could see that smug face of Severus’ from where he sat. The cold emptiness in his heart began to heat with the fuse of his temper. What he wouldn’t have given to just walk right over and wallop the boy on the spot— not too long ago, he very well might have.

When James replied, he hardly even noticed that his voice had risen to an audible volume.“Really?

Snape

??” Whether she was the cause for this terrible twist of fate or not, he wasn’t happy. It didn't seem

fair. “He’s

a

Death Eater

, for fuck's sake!”

Silence fell throughout the hall.

Beside him, Lily’s cheeks turned bright pink. She was mortified.

James, suddenly very aware of how many pairs of eyes were on them and what a scene he'd made, began to apologize, but she whirled around to stop him before he could. “No— I don’t want anything to do with you anymore, James Potter. Please, just...” Lily gave an exasperated sigh, “Leave me alone.” And this time, she did leave; she left him there to stand alone, sad, and rejected. On his

birthday

, no less.

Alice gave him a sympathetic smile and shrug on her way out. “Er… Happy Birthday, James.”

It didn’t make him feel any better.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Come now, ‘Jamies. You must eat something. ” Mrs. Potter only resorted to her childhood pet name for James when she was worried, but she was most assuredly worried. Ordinarily, both he and Sirius ate their food so quickly there was hardly time to serve it and sit down before they were finished, but ever since returning home from school, he seemed to have lost his appetite.    James looked up at her with a displeased sniff— then, haughtily and almost forcefully— shoveled a forkful of porridge into his mouth. “There. I’ve eaten something.”    Sirius snorted into his milk next to him.    “James…” His father spoke sternly, but didn’t take his eyes off of the paper held before him. Usually, he didn’t have to.    “It’s Easter, darling— I’m making roast lamb, your favorite.” But her son didn’t seem altogether enthused by the idea. In fact, the prospect only seemed to worsen his mood.    Sirius murmured with a smirk, “He’s too busy whinging over Lily for Easter…”     James immediately kicked his shin under the table. Hard.      Sirius winced with a disgruntled look.     “What was that, dear?”     He shot him the dirtiest look he could muster.    Sirius shut up about it, but the smug grin on his face was still sickening in its shameless flattery. “Oh, I was just saying how much I love roast lamb, Mrs. Potter— whatever James doesn’t eat, I will.”    “Oh, well how sweet of you to say, Sirius! You know, it’s so nice to have you around for the holidays. I was just telling Fleamont about how lonely it was before you moved in last Christmas. It’s just like having another son with you around. Why, just the other day…” She continued, mostly listened to by her husband, not listened to whatsoever by the boys. They had other matters on their minds— or at least, her son did.    Yes, it was true that he was still healing from Lily’s repeated and final rejection, but that wasn’t all. Everything in his life seemed to be crumbling down around him on top of it. After all that had happened, his grades were next to irreparable without studying like the devil, and with Remus’ affliction and prefect duties, it was simply unfair to ask him to help do the work. Even after saving Severus from that stupid prank of Sirius’, the tension between them seemed only to have worsened. Three times since January they’d been sent to detention for hexing each other, and those were only the instances they’d been caught. Without Lily to keep him from acting rashly, James had no reason to take pity on Snape anymore, and it was greatly affecting his life at school. Not only that, but he’d been given a warning— in front of the whole team — that if he didn’t shape up as chaser, he’d be off of the field by next year. Gryffindor had already lost two of its three games, with Slytherin managing not to lose once. Even the Hufflepuff team beat them to a pulp the game before James’ birthday, and the worst part was that he knew it was his own fault for not practicing. He had never felt shame like that before; it was entirely too degrading to let so many people down.    And while he still had his friends, they weren’t too much help. At least Remus was sympathetic, but Peter was too oblivious to know what to do, and Sirius’ advice always ended up punctuated by some kind of punchline. In the end, it would have to fall upon James’ shoulders to get through it on his own. Responsibility put him in the worst mood sometimes.    If only he’d been born a muggle instead— maybe then, life would be easier. No magic, no quidditch, no Severus— and most importantly, no soulmark. It certainly would have been far less complicated.    His mother had moved on, and instead started on Remus and his list of virtues. Sirius was now listening attentively. “...always say what a splendid work ethic that boy has. He’ll be the Minister of Magic before too long!” Euphemia tittered at the suggestion, at which Fleamont offered a smile of agreement, and Sirius chuckled heartily at. James observed without expression.    “That’s what I always say. He’d definitely be better than that tosser they just put in office! A few Dementors won’t stop Voldemort’s rise to power, will it?”     An awkward pause held for a moment.    Sirius tore a boyish hunk of bread off with his teeth and chewed obliviously. 
    Mr. and Mrs. Potter both seemed a little disconcerted by the conversation, particularly the mention of such a name. In their home, Dark Magic was next to unheard of, and The Dark Lord’s name was thought of as a bringer of bad luck— a curse. Even though Mr. Potter couldn’t take his eyes away from the paper every morning, he found there was no sense in dwelling on the unpleasant things he read there. James had been raised without that kind of talk at the table, if only because it was inappropriate for such young ears. But with each passing day, it became more difficult to keep the news from interrupting before breakfast was even over.

Nevertheless, Fleamont changed the subject with only a moments’ hesitation, as he was already getting used to these little stumbles from Sirius. The two doted on James’ sometimes careless friend, and so paid no mind to these little discrepancies— his spirited personality and good heart were a refreshing addition to the family. 
    Fleamont cleared his throat and set The Daily Prophet down next to his breakfast. He wore the most peculiar look as he addressed the table. “Today is a day for celebration, everyone. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and soon, we’ll all be together...”    Both boys looked up quizzically, but Sirius spoke first.    “All?”    Euphemia beamed knowingly next to her husband, just as she always did when he was about to announce a surprise.     Fleamont reached inside his robes dramatically. “Yes— ” And with a flourish, he brought his hand out— with a rabbit held in it. He beamed at them expectantly for a moment. Mrs. Potter applauded pleasantly, but the boys didn’t seem to understand. So, he set the little thing down and pet it as he continued. “I’ve arranged for Peter and Remus to be joining us.”    Now that was something they could be excited about— Sirius whooped out loud and clapped James on the back. How long had it been since all four of them were together outside of Hogwarts?     James gave a chuckle and managed to look a little less glum, but raised an eyebrow. “What was the rabbit for?”    Mr. Potter looked at his son with the same sly grin he’d inherited. “Dramatic effect, of course.”        “James, they’ve arrived!”    The two boys barely let Fleamont finish before they had already thundered downstairs, hair partly brushed and shirts in need of tucking. He shook his head and smiled at such a charming picture of youth. “Slow down now, boys, don’t trip over your noses!”     They stopped at the bottom of the stairs to catch their breath and do as they were told, but only for a moment. It was already evening, and there was not a moment of fun to lose. Sirius led the way to the front door like a dog with a wildly wagging tail. When they turned the corner, Remus was just stepping over the threshold, Peter in tow behind him.     Four days after the full moon, and he was still looking a bit under the weather. Without the Marauders to keep him entertained during his transformations, Remus only had himself for company. If left alone, he was also left to hurt himself. In fact, James could’ve sworn some of his more recent cuts and scars had been hidden with makeup.     Remus looked up abruptly, only to break into a smile when he saw them approaching. “And who are these two pillocks?”    “Moony!” Sirius practically barreled the poor boy over with a hug, despite the fact that Remus was the tallest of them all.     James smirked at the sight. Seeing his friends’ happiness always cheered him up a little. “Don’t break him, ‘Pads! We’ve only got ‘em for the night.”    He let go of him, but only to ruffle his hair. “There, that looks better.”    “Sirius!! How many times have I told you— ”    Their other guest gave a small wave while they continued to bicker. “Hiya, Prongs. Er, Happy Easter!”    “Happy Easter, Wormtail— glad you could make it.” He clapped a friendly hand to Peter’s back and welcomed him in. “Mum’s making gobs of food for us.”    That was the moment Sirius chose to quit teasing Remus. “And I’m going to eat all of it.”    “Not if I jelly-leg jinx you before you can get to the table.”     “I’d like to see you try, antler boy!”    “Is that really the best you could come up with…”    They continued on like that all the way up the stairs, taking them more slowly than before now that there was no need to rush. Once again, Fleamont watched them go, this time reminiscing in memories of his own youth; warm summer breezes, picnics on the beach, and the traditional bottle of ice cold pumpkin juice on the trek back.    “Fleamont, dear? Where did you put the basil seeds?” His wife’s voice came from the kitchen.    “Just a moment, dear!” He heard a door slam upstairs, then smiled to himself.    The boys would be alright.

“Alright, we’re all here, so what was it you wanted to talk about?” Remus spoke from his spot on the floor next to Peter and Sirius. As the least easily distracted of the four, he was usually the one to get down to business first.    James answered him from the bed, where he lay upside down. “Well…” He turned over. This was a difficult topic to discuss, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to start the conversation, even if they’d spoken of it before. “It’s about my soulmark.” Just saying the word out loud felt like an invasion of privacy, as if he’d said a new swear word they weren’t sure they wanted to use yet.    “This again?” Sirius smirked, but he wasn’t altogether dismissive— the look in his eyes was one of concern.    Remus shot him a glare anyway before turning back to James. He obviously thought it was a subject to be taken seriously. “What about it?”    “What do I do?”    At this, all three of them looked stricken. It certainly wasn’t a simple question to answer.    It was Peter who broke the silence. “What?”    “What do you mean, ‘do’? ‘You trying to get rid of it or something?” The idea looked like it intrigued Sirius. He chuckled. “That could hurt.”    “Well, you guys have them too, don’t you? Aren’t you looking for the people you’re supposed to be with?”    Everyone suddenly looked very uncomfortable.    “Mate, it’s just… not something you talk about.” Sirius, usually so bold and unafraid, rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.    James looked to Remus, who seemed very preoccupied with his shoelaces. “But we’re family, aren’t we? If we can’t talk about it with each other, who can we talk to?”    Peter, who didn’t look particularly bothered by any one part of the conversation, took this as an opportunity for support. “Yeah— brothers!” He glanced to his right, where Remus seemed only partially convinced, and then to his left, where Sirius shot him a glare. The poor boy seemed very conflicted with which side to take. "Or.. uh.. yeah."    “Not everyone has a soul mark, Prongs. In fact, even some purebloods go their whole lives without finding one. It’s really more of a suggestion than anything— ” Remus began in defense.    “And you, Moony?” James knew he was being abrasive, but he suddenly found himself very irritated with their reluctance. In fact, he was hurt. The four of them had been thick as thieves since that first train ride to Hogwarts, and this was what they were letting drive them apart? No— not if he had anything to do with it; it was his duty as the leader of the Marauders not to let secrets get between them. “Your birthday’s only a couple of weeks before mine, after all.”    Everyone looked to Remus, whose eyes widened with alarm. “Well— I, um-” He was caught. That clever little distraction had backfired, and instead peaked their interest. Frantically, he searched for a diversion. “What about Padfoot? He turned sixteen half a year ago, shouldn’t he have been the first?”    Sirius was shocked at this betrayal— and then very, very cross. He frowned so fiercely in Remus’ direction that Peter ducked out of the way— until James turned to him expectantly.    “Yes, Pads, what about you? You’ve been awfully quiet over there.”    A panic James hadn’t expected flashed across Sirius’ face. “I, uh—” He didn’t meet his gaze. “Wormtail! Wormtail hasn’t said anything, has he?”    Peter looked up with surprise, as if he’d forgotten he was even part of the conversation in the first place. “Oh!” He shrugged and gave a simple smile. “I don’t have one.”    This short, frank response prompted a moment of silent realization from the boys; it had suddenly become all too clear who was hiding something and who was not.    James sighed and shook his head. This was a disaster. “I can’t believe— ”    But a familiar voice calling from downstairs interrupted him before he could finish. “Boys!! Dinner's ready!”     It was as if those words broke a spell cast upon the four of them— Peter jumped up with excitement, while the other two followed with eager relief— they were glad for an excuse to end the conversation and run downstairs. Their footsteps and lively banter echoed down the stairs as they went, as if nothing had happened.     James, on the other hand, stayed behind.    He pulled up his left sleeve. The mark was still there— unwanted, yet unchanging. Over the last month, his problems had steadily increased, but so had the dreams. They were such peculiar dreams— nothing like he remembered from his childhood— and always featured that funny little cat. He wished he could've asked the others about their dreams and whether they featured any animal companions, but that seemed a lost cause. At least for the moment.    He sighed and stood, pulling his sleeve back down as he went.     There was no sense worrying over it now.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“I know it’s usually Fleamont who speaks at these things,” Euphemia smiled to her husband, who shrugged and grinned at them all in the way a thanked family member would at a wedding. “But this year I thought it would be nice for

me

to hold the Easter toast.”

They were all seated at the Big Table now, (reserved for special occasions,) and his mother had made a delightful spread. Yes there was roast lamb, just as she’d promised, but there were also dozens of other equally mouth watering dishes; potatoes roasted in goose fat until crispy with a creamy center— hot cross buns still steaming from the oven— and a great baked ham, marbled meat within and caramelized skin without. The vegetables were nothing of too much importance to the boys, but they just knew that Mrs. Potter’s delicious jam tarts waited in the kitchen for after they’d finished their dinner, and that was all the more reason to wolf them down.

They just had to sit through the traditional speech first.

“Now, I know James wants us to keep it very subtle this year, but he just had his sixteenth birthday, and so did Remus— and I think that’s something to celebrate! So, after you’ve finished, there’s a great big chocolate cake waiting for your pudding.” She looked to Remus, who gave her a warm smile; she knew it was his favorite. “Fleamont and I can hardly believe how fast you boys are growing up— all four of you— and I just wanted to personally say how proud we are. You’re becoming a fine crop of young men.” Her voice wavered with emotion as she finished, “So, cheers— to life!” James’ mother lifted her glass of butter beer enthusiastically.

They all cheered and clapped, charmed by James’ mother and her sentimentality, before six glasses clinked together happily, and with a sip of celebratory butterbeer, everyone was free to dig in. Every plate began to fill rapidly.

James found himself slightly less enthusiastic than the rest, as the prior conversation hadn’t stopped troubling him yet. He watched as Remus piled gleaming slices of ham onto his plate. Did

he

have a soulmate? He had to, after the way he reacted to the topic. But what reason did he have to be so secretive about it? And Sirius— he watched him fork too much food into his mouth again— why would

Sirius

of all people suddenly be so concerned with his privacy? Perhaps it could have been blamed on his conservative upbringing, if that matched up with history; so far, every ostentatious act of rebellion had been motivated by that very reason. So, it didn’t make sense. What was he hiding?

Peter, preoccupied with buttering a particularly large bun, was the only one James felt he could depend on for the truth. The poor boy couldn’t lie to them for the life of him, not to mention the fact that no soul mark at all was far too clever an excuse for him to come up with on the spot. They weren't about to hold him down and search him. No, Peter was telling the truth, he knew it.

If only the other two were so easy to read.

“Ughh, I couldn't eat another bite…” Sirius groaned and flopped over on his bed, hands clutching at the stomach ache punishing him for eating too much.

“No one’s asking you to, you great glutton...”

Peter chuckled at James’ insult, but the other two looked up at such an inflammatory tone. Usually he was so casual about those kinds of comments— but it was obvious what had put him in a very foul mood.

“Looks like somebody’s grumpy— do you need a nap, ‘Jamies?”

Remus jabbed Sirius in the stomach as a warning— there was no need to provoke him, especially not at his own house.

But James didn’t counter with his own quip— he didn’t even seem angry anymore— just scoffed and rolled over.

This was even more concerning; he only sulked when something was important to him.

They looked at each other, as if discussing what they ought to do in silence.

Remus raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.

He’s upset...

Sirius sighed and let his shoulders sag. He knew what that meant.

But my stomach hurts.

Remus frowned and crossed his arms in response

. You know it’s the right thing to do.

Sirius gave a groan of a sigh and rolled his eyes.

Fiiiine. I hate when you’re right.

He turned over until he fell off of the bed— on purpose— just to show how much he was suffering.

Peter, glancing back and forth between the two, didn’t mind being left out of the conversation. It wasn’t too difficult to catch up.

“Proooongs…” Reluctantly, the eldest of the four began to stand— his expression was that of someone about to rip off a particularly sticky band aid. “Would some… marauding cheer you up?”

James’ ears pricked, and he turned to face them once more. “Marauding?” He sat up skeptically. “But the full moon was four days ago.”

“Yeah, so we missed out on all the fun.” Sirius prodded him with a foot. “C’mon, it’ll be great! “We can take turns lagging behind with Moony, and everyone will get to stretch their legs a little bit.” His enthusiasm may have been artificial, but he sure knew how to be convincing when he wanted to. “I know how much you like the clover that grows by the river... ‘should be nice and lush this time of year.”

“I don’t know, Pads…”

In almost every conversation among the Marauders there was a tipping point— whether everyone was aware or not— and the tipping point had come in this conversation. Remus knew that it was the perfect moment to throw in their trump card. He looked to Peter.

Peter, who could always be relied on for some honest to goodness enthusiasm, was eager to throw his bit in too. “It'll be good fun! We could even have a picnic.”

They all looked at him for a moment, not surprised in the least by such a suggestion, but a little puzzled by its placement.

“Yeah… I don't think I could eat another bite.” Sirius snorted, shook his head and turned his attention back to James. “But your parents are already in bed. It would be downright sacrilegious of us to ignore an opportunity as ripe as this.”

The other two nodded their agreement; cheering up James was often what brought them together— and into detention.

He looked at them— at the faces of his best friends, and their genuine smiles— and knew that it was impossible to stay mad for too long. These were his mates, who he loved more than anything in the world. Besides, a little bit of fun never hurt anybody.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

There was no difficulty in sneaking out; Remus made use of the invisibility cloak while the others remained inconspicuous in Animagus form, so all the Marauders had to do was slip out through the back garden and they were free to do as they pleased.    After a good amount of galloping and chasing and playing, the four split up. Padfoot wanted to race through the trees, while Prongs stayed behind to munch on clover and keep Moony company. Peter, of course, was invited along to run around in the forest, and gladly accepted. It wasn’t unusual for them to divide as they did, as there were always two pairs to keep everyone company.    It was quiet in the little grove they chose, save for the steady babbling of the river nearby. All four of them had been to this spot before, though in human form more than not. It was peaceful and, due to the trees surrounding it, conveniently private.    At the sight of so much luscious clover, Prongs sprung forth eagerly. Moony, less excitable about eating plantlife, simply found an overturned tree to sit on.     As Prongs nibbled, Remus rested in silence, enjoying their tranquil surroundings for a moment.     But only a moment.    “‘Moon?” Before the other could even notice, James had already returned to his human form, laying back in the cool green of the meadow with quiet movements.     The response he got was almost hesitant, “Yeah?”    He seemed pensive. Still, he couldn’t get the same question out of his head. “‘You think I’m overthinking all this soulmate rubbish?” It was honest doubt that he spoke with, not any of that confident persona he hid behind half the time. This was something that was troubling him, that was apparent.    For a moment, Moony didn’t respond— he seemed to be thinking too— but his answer was certain. “No.” James glanced behind him, but Remus was already coming to sit at the stream beside him. The grass tickled their hands as a breeze blew through it and they listened to the water churn. “It’s not that you’re thinking about it too much, or being too loud about it— you’re just worrying about it too much.” He chuckled. “You of all people, James Potter, will meet your soulmate. And I guarantee it will be the most memorable experience of your life.” He gave a kind smile, and James found he couldn’t help returning it.    “I asked you a question, not to flatter me.”     Remus scoffed, but insisted; “I’ll bet on it.”  Then, he looked out over the water. He was the most earnest of the four, and that was always what Prongs admired most about him; so easily vulnerable. “But, with that in mind?” Remus shrugged. “If you’re this out of sorts over it, think about how everyone else feels. We’re just as scared as you are.”    James studied the sky and sighed. Maybe he was right— and he usually was. “I can see why.” He smirked. “I mean, if I woke up with ‘Snivellus’ mark on me one morning, I’d be scared too.”    Moony may have rolled his eyes and mumbled something defending Lily, but he also knew that James was bitter. They all did. He was bitter and hurt and confused by the injustice of it all, as if his very being had known he and Lily belonged together.     But, he was healing. Slowly perhaps, but this conversation proved that. Already James was beginning to forgive her— and to realize that there was nothing to forgive.    And soon, he would forget, too.

“Boys!!”    A few hours after dawn, and the Marauders, (all four of them,) had still managed not to wake once. Not even the light of dawn, the hoot of the Daily Prophet delivery, or the smell of bacon woke them— certainly not after spending most of the holiday racing around the countryside.    It was Padfoot who stirred first. With a sleepy grunt, he jabbed James in the side, and he opened his eyes. “Ugh…” His dark black hair stood up in all directions. “Already?”    He’d been woken from a dream— a peaceful one, he thought— in which he and that… that little cat were running about again, exploring and running and… then his memory faded.    “Yeah, didn’t you hear?” Sirius moved on to rouse Moony and Wormtail too.    James groaned as he remembered that this was the final day of their Easter holiday.    They were to eat their last breakfast together before they returned to Hogwarts, with all of its homework and schedules and exams. He didn’t dread exams because he was bad at them, he dreaded them because of all of the… paperwork. All the preparation and writing drove him positively mad.

That night, the Potters spent the evening together in front of their fireplace. They often did this the night before James returned to Hogwarts, as they treasured their time with their young son, and hoped to spend some with him before he grew up too fast. On this night, Euphemia read aloud as Fleamont took to his tobacco pipe. James, who would remember these moments long after his parents passed and he had children of his own, lay on the sofa and listened peacefully. Mother, who chose the books she read aloud, had already gone through a quarter of the Hogwarts library, as well as a dozen other books that weren’t even on those shelves.    The warmth of the fire and relaxing rhythm of his mother’s words were like a lullaby to James’ ears… but he could’ve sworn he was awake.

Something soft and fluffy almost smothered him awake.    “What in-?” But he stopped mid-thought, and smiled. “Why, it’s you.” With a newfound friendliness, James pet the familiar cat. It was just as soft as he’d imagined. “What the devil are you doing here?” And then he realized— his parents. Looking about, they were absent; but he could still smell the smoke of his father’s pipe, even then.     The cat pulled away from his hands and onto the floor with a bound. Still, it stared at him purposefully before continuing.    “Yes-?” James could only remain confused, (though vaguely intrigued,) and follow. “Alright, then...”    It led him up the stairs and down the hallway— waiting for him to catch up, time and time again— before stopping at his very own door.     He frowned.    The cat meowed and scratched at the door.    “Pushy little bugger, aren’t you?” But he obeyed, and reached out to open it. “Just don’t—”    A large object broke through the door just then, sending a spray of wood splinters flying in all directions. James ducked and covered his head with his arms as quickly as he could. Only when he opened his eyes did he realize that what had blasted through his bedroom door was a Bludger. His eyes widened as it promptly dislodged itself from the hallway and hurtled back the way it’d come.    A soft rumbling at James’ side startled him, and he looked down. It was the cat— perfectly unharmed. It seemed to be looking at him as if to say, ‘I told you so.’    All he replied with was a shake of his head. Merlin’s tits he dreaded to see the damage it’d done to his bedroom.    To his astonishment, however, it wasn’t his room on the other side of that door at all, but the Hogwarts Quidditch field. Now this— this didn’t make any sense whatsoever. He chuckled in disbelief. “Remus was right. I should quit—“    James was interrupted by the unmistakable chatter of a Bludger shooting toward his face at a frightening speed.

“auHH!!” He jerked awake, still laying perfectly safe on the sitting room sofa. The fire had died down, and mother and father had retired to their beds. Of course. They wouldn’t have wanted to wake him, would they?     James took a deep breath. His heart was still racing. For a moment, he closed his eyes and tried to memorize it all in a rush. Surely he could do it this time.   But in another moment, he was already unsure of bits and pieces. With a scoff of defeat, he disregarded it and started to his feet.     All that remained were the thundering boom of a Bludger and the curious sense that he was being watched….    Or followed.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Pumpkin Pasty?” Padfoot, already packing one into his mouth, offered another to Prongs. They were forty three minutes through the train ride to Hogwarts, and the trolley had just taken a trip down the aisle. He and Pads usually bought the lot for them, and this time was no different.

James only watched as the trees sped past his window. “No thanks.” It wasn’t that he was moody, he was contemplative. For the first time, he hadn’t completely forgotten one of his dreams, and it’d been that one. But why? What on earth did it mean?

“‘Suit yourself.”

The other two dug in.

Every day that week James spent his time either sitting in the common room quietly with the Marauders, or studying— and they didn’t know which was more unusual. He wasn’t down or grumpy, and when asked he replied casually, but something was still off. Usually he was loud and careless, but for once, he was practically over achieving.

And it all seemed to revolve around Divination, remarkably.

“Moony… it’s ten past twelve. He’s

still

down there.” Padfoot was worried, to be quite honest. Never before had he seen his best friend so solemn— had something happened?

“He’s not doing anything wrong. Why don’t you go get him?” Moony wasn’t quite so bothered as the other two. He figured if James was getting good marks, keeping up with Marauding as he had been, and said he was fine, then he was fine. More than fine— he was excelling.

“Fine.” Padfoot threw his covers off of himself and tromped down the dormitory stairwell. His bare footsteps echoed on the stone with obnoxious slaps.

When he reached the bottom stair, he found Prongs in front of a table by the fire, still studying a map of the night sky that he’d never even seen in Astronomy class. He’d already stopped his work at the sound of the other boy’s approach, and had taken off his glasses to rub his eyes.

His voice was hoarse and tired. “Oy…” James cleared his throat. “Is it time for breakfast already?”

“It will be soon.” With a scratch of his head, Sirius eyed the various charts and papers. “‘Whatcha got here?” He snatched one with a sleepy cheekiness. “Zodiac signs?? What—“

James raised his eyebrows and put his glasses back on. “Like you know anything about astrology.”

“...Maybe I do.”

“Oh yeah?”

Padfoot sniffed, squinted, and inspected the chart. “You’re a… what, Aries? March twenty seventh or—“

“Twenty seventh.” He was surprised Sirius remembered so easily. Then again, he hadn’t forgotten a birthday since they were twelve.

“Right. Well then…” Those stormy gray eyes searched the parchment. “Cancer.” He tottered his head. “Not bad. Water sign. Sensitive.” He glanced up. “Try not to scare ‘em off, Aries.”

“It says all that?” Prongs said skeptically.

He tried to pass it off casually, “No, smart arse. I know shit,” then tossed the chart back onto the table. “But what I don’t know, is what you’re still doing up— studying, of all things.”

“I’m not committing any crimes.”

“You’re not sleeping.”

James glanced over surreptitiously.

“You won’t do well on a test if you’re tired.”

“‘Moony asleep?”

“Probably not. ‘Pretends he’s not worried, then stays up fretting half the night.” Sirius smiled. “Save me.”

He chuckled. “Alright.” With a sigh, he closed his book. “My eyes hurt.” In the dim firelight, James Potter gathered his things and lugged them into a bag. He’d been reading for hours now, and after so much time no longer found himself getting distracted from it as he used to. James had finished his class work already in an effort to make time for other areas of study. He knew it was obvious what he was studying to those who knew him. He didn’t care.

He’d read dozens of personal accounts now, about men and women who had found their soulmates years and years after their sixteenth birthday, and yet still more of those who had known them all along. Every one of them spoke of the difficulty in coaxing the other to reveal their mark.

That was discouraging.

Sirius’ odd knowledge was helpful, however, as James had a particularly difficult time understanding the stars and their meanings. It was important that he know everything about the person he was signed, sealed and going to be delivered to— how else was he supposed to find her? If it was a her.. it

was.

Probably.

Divination, too— there was

nothing

he could get out of his tea leaves about that dream, and all the professor said about the crystal ball was that his life seemed, “...vaguely optimistic… unexpected turns are ahead, but this is far more peaceful than your original timeline.”

Everyone got something weird like that. He just wrote it off.

“It’s going to be summer soon…”

For anyone else, it might’ve been a cheerful thought— but the Marauders were happiest when they were at Hogwarts. Each of them genuinely enjoyed their time with the others, and even though Padfoot had moved in with Prongs, it was far less boring with the other two around. That, and all of them knew that Moony needed them. Each full moon was taking an even greater toll on their poor friend ever since his sixteenth birthday, and they were concerned. What kind of damage would he do to himself without their help? It kept them on edge, unspoken but felt within them all. There was an impending doom hanging about the idea.

“Y’know, ‘Moon…”

Remus looked up sharply over the Great Hall breakfast table. He raised an eyebrow at James.

He glanced over his eggs. This was an idea originally planted in his mind by Sirius, but over the years had situated itself in James’ comfortably. He had no doubt that it was a sound idea, but its foundation was a bit shaky; Remus would never agree to it.

“You could stay with ‘Pads and I over the summer holiday.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose.

Remus stirred his porridge nonchalantly, but the chewing of his cheek betrayed his true feelings on the matter.

Once, when they were younger, he’d jokingly asked them not to treat him like a ‘charity case.’ “Just because I don’t have as much money as you, or I’m a half-blood, doesn’t mean I need help.” He’d said. “I can help myself.”

That night Sirius had come to James and asked him why he would feel like he needed to say something like that. They were friends, weren’t they?

James only quoted his mother. “‘Some people have been hurt so badly by others that they develop an instinct to be wary of danger. It can be a useful tool, but it also means that it takes them longer to trust you.’”

“But Moony doesn’t think we’re dangerous, does he?”

“No, of course not. It’s not a bad thing— he’s just… worried. Worried about taking advantage of us, worried that we don’t like him, worried that we think he’s weak… but he’s the strongest of all four of us, isn’t he?”

Now, sitting in front of him, James didn’t see Remus going over those problems. In fact, he seemed to answer almost hastily.

“No- no, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He stuck another spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

“What do you mean? My parents

love

you. Your parents love me—“

“Correction,

tolerate—

“Your parents

tolerate

me—“

“Look, I just don’t think I’m—“

“I don’t think it’s a good idea either.”

They all stopped and turned to Sirius, who had spoken. He was the last one they’d expected to say no.

“What are you talking about, Pads?” It was Peter who asked. He was confused, too— Moony and Padfoot went together like Hogsmeade and pumpkin juice. Why shouldn’t Sirius want him to stay?

Uncomfortably, he explained. “Well— two of us can’t…” he glanced around the Hall,“‘handle’ Moony alone, and there isn’t any ‘bed prepared’ for him at the Potters.”

James frowned.

What the hell is happening right now?

“What?” He and Peter looked back to Remus, who met their eyes and suddenly became very interested in his breakfast.

“Yeah, that’s what I was going to say, actually.” Then, he shrugged.

The four of them were quiet for a moment.

“I’ve got to get back to studying, anyway.” Prongs was unhappy. He’d expected Padfoot to be completely on board with the idea. It was

his

after all. Everyone was acting so

strange.

“See you in class, Wormtail.”

“Yeah, uh, see you!”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

For weeks, the four of them seemed to grow more and more distant. No one wanted to talk about what had changed between them. Or

why

.

They could hardly sit in the same room together anymore. James was still plenty cross with Sirius, and the latter seemed all too keen to keep his mouth shut about it. Remus only got a half pass because his reasons were a little more easy to figure out, but he still got all skittish whenever James or Sirius were in the room. But he hadn’t betrayed James like Sirius had. At least, that was how it felt.

Often, none of them had real reason to spend time together other than classes and the full moon.

They still spent those nights together as dutifully as ever. Their mutual understanding of Moony’s needs would always end up connecting them in the end.

It was during one of these last couple full moons that Prongs lost sight of Pads and Moony– but he tried to stay calm. The night was nearing dawn, so they’d strayed on the outer fringes of the Forbidden Forest. At least, that was what they were supposed to have been doing.

“Padfoot?!” James had returned to human form to look for the other two, as had Peter. It was unusual for them to disappear so suddenly, especially when breakfast began in less than forty five minutes. “Pads!!”

“Moony?” Peter cupped his hands around his mouth and called out. “Padfoot–!” His hands fell. “James, I’m

hungry

…”

James sighed, ignoring that last comment. He was hungry too. “You turn and try to find them that way. You’ll be much faster as Wormtail. I’ll keep searching here in case they return.”

With a short sigh and a nod, he did as he was told and scampered off into the darkness.

In the meantime, James began searching the rest of the edge of the trees. He knew these woods like the back of his hand— and so did the others, which was what perplexed him— how could Moony and Pads get lost if they knew the forest inside and out?

Stepping over gnarled roots and moss covered stumps, he froze.

What was that?

He swore he thought he heard a yell of some kind— and nearby. They couldn't be fighting, could they?

“Padfoot?”

The trees went back to their dark, unrevealing silence. A ways behind him, he heard another familiar voice. “Prongs… I didn’t find anything. Y’think they went back?”

With an uneasy feeling in his stomach, James turned away from the depths of the forest and let out a breath. It didn’t make any sense to stay out here and get Wormtail into trouble, too.

“Yeah. Maybe. Let’s get something to eat.”

Remus and Sirius weren’t there when they got back to the common room. The Shrieking Shack had also been empty.

They still didn’t turn up at breakfast. Not when Peter spilled his orange juice, or when Severus and Lily sat together at the opposite end of the Gryffindor table.

James didn’t even see them after first period either. He didn’t laugh when Wormtail drank all of his tea dregs in Divination, he didn’t snivel at Severus as he walked past, and he didn’t run in the corridors because

they weren’t there

.

It wasn't until lunch in the Great Hall that he could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Sirius and Remus were laughing and making their way in for tea as if it were any other day. Padfoot was just in the middle of messing with Moony’s hair again when they reached the table, and saw the look on Prongs’ face. Wormtail didn’t look particularly enthused either, but he wasn’t about to say a word about it in front of Sirius.

“Hi.” Moony spoke breathlessly, but with an effort at friendliness. He was obviously exhausted from what he’d endured the night before, but made an effort at a smile nevertheless.

James didn’t reply.

“C’mon Prongs, don’t ignore us, mate.” Padfoot sidled in next to Wormtail and took a swig of pumpkin juice.

“Where were you two? We looked all over for you last night.” James spoke quietly among the other Gryffindors, but he saw no reason to play dumb any longer.

“Came back early, grabbed something to eat, ‘n finally convinced old man Moony over here to play hooky with me all morning. He hasn’t got N.E.W.T.’s ‘till next year, anyway.” Padfoot chuckled and began forking sausages onto his plate.

Moony chewed a piece of toast quietly. It seemed he didn’t have much to say on the matter.

Prongs wasn’t sure if he was upset— and, if he

was

upset, what he was upset about. On one hand, they’d worried him and Peter to death by not saying anything. And on the other, they’d genuinely hurt his feelings by skipping class and having fun without them. Not to mention the fact that the two seemed perfectly happy to put everything behind them all of a sudden.

With a cold glance back and forth between them, James scoffed. “Well, I hope you had fun.”

The more he thought about it, the more James steamed.

There was absolutely no reason Moony couldn’t join them over their break, and this most recent incident only further proved that. If it didn’t make sense for two of them to take on their friend’s shift alone, then it made even less sense for Sirius to run off with him like that. Besides, they only really needed ‘Wormy for freezing the Whomping Willow. Why would his presence make any difference in that way? And

furthermore

, if this was all because Peter wouldn’t feel included, then why not just invite him along, too? Not only that, but since when did Remus

skip?

Okay, maybe when they were younger, but for the last year or two he’d always taken every spare moment to catch up for what he missed.

The immovable feeling that something was being kept from him wouldn’t leave.

“Aye, James? You wanted my notes, right?” Peter had been waving them under his nose to no avail. Even though his handwriting was only half as legible as Remus’, Wormtail got about the same grades they did in potions. Didn’t make sense not to take advantage of the fact.

“Oh, yeah I did. Thanks.” But he didn’t move to take the parchment from him. It was to the point that he didn’t even feel like asking Moony for his notes. They were so close to the end of the year, it didn’t really matter all that much anymore anyway. James gave a forceful sigh and shifted in his big leather chair. The common room fireplace crackled cheerfully at him, despite the fact that the evening didn’t feel cheerful at all. The night before the big, final quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw– and the other two Marauders were nowhere to be seen. There was a sizable group still up and chattering or playing chess in the common room, but nowhere near the rowdiness he was used to on a summer night like this. It felt like a birthday going uncelebrated: lonely and out of place.

He sat back up and looked to Peter again, “You don’t know where they are, do you?”

Wormtail looked surprised, whether at being the sole focus of James’ attention or being expected to have that kind of information, it wasn’t clear. “No, sorry.” He shook his head, brow gently furrowed with concern. “I would tell you if I did.”

“Huh.”

Neither of them seemed to enjoy the new silence that followed every word, a constant reminder that there was usually someone else there to fill it with laughter or an added quip.

Suddenly, the portrait hole swung open, and the two boys perked up to see it was Remus coming through. Sirius, however, was nowhere to be seen.

“Moony! Where the hell have you been?” The scorn in his voice was still playful, but clearly James wasn’t happy with them being apart so much lately.

Judging by the sheepish expression on their tall friend’s face, he knew it, too. “I was reading…” The apprehension that lilted the end of his sentence said that he also knew that answer wouldn’t satisfy.

“The restricted section, I hope?”

“No, er… just some muggle novel.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

“...Mhm.” Despite his short reply, Moony still sat down next to Wormtail, book in hand. He’d never been able to completely ignore when one of his friends was upset– not when it was a key part of his personality.

That was a trait James liked to think they all shared, even if it’d been less obvious lately. He chewed his cheek. Maybe he needed to remember that himself. “What’s it about?”

Remus hardly seemed to hear him, nose buried in the pages of his book. “Hm-?” But after finishing the paragraph or line he was on, finally tore himself away to process the question. He wasn’t in a very talkative mood. “Oh, what’s it about? Uh..” For a moment he squinted at nothing, then tilted his head and kind of winced inwardly as he tried to formulate a thought. In the end, he seemed to settle on an answer that caused him to raise his eyebrows in slight disapproval of his own description. “A day in the life of an English literature professor in Los Angeles.”

“So, your life in ten years.” James meant it as an optimistic comment; Remus had always been academically driven, and the idea of him moving to shiny, forward-thinking America to teach the subject he was best at seemed ideal. The way his friend’s face changed to hear it, however, said otherwise. In fact, he looked positively anguished to hear him say that. His shoulders even fell a little bit, like it was bad news he’d been waiting to hear.

“You’re right..”

When James looked to Peter for some kind of understanding, he only looked more bewildered than he felt himself. Whatever was going on with Moony was completely missed by them both. “...That’s a good thing, ‘Moon.”

He seemed startled back out of his thoughts to hear the nickname. “Yeah. Yeah..” The book remained closed, but Remus seemed stuck in it. “I’m going upstairs.”

The other two watched him rise from his spot and shuffle up to the dorms without any sort of explanation. Only a murmured bid goodnight.

The majority of the other Gryffindors had already retired, too. Still, Prongs and Wormtail continued to sit in somewhat stunned silence for what felt like minutes.

“Do

you

know what just happened?” He got a dumbfounded look and a shaken head in reply. James sat back and pushed a handful of messy hair from his forehead. “Neither do I.” The fire had died down to embers, and his eyes were growing tired. Any more thinking and he wouldn’t even be able to climb onto his broom the next morning. Just as he was about to stand, however, Wormtail said something surprisingly perceptive.

“Padfoot would know.”

“....He would, wouldn’t he?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Prongs…

Prongs!”

“I’m awake, I’m

awake

!” It was Pettigrew’s voice that had finally woke him, suddenly and forcefully. He’d been reliving the dream from his parents’ house– the one with the bludger in his room. That was what stood out to him most… as a matter of fact he fully expected to have been smashed to pieces upon opening his eyes, but the sight of a familiar face quickly quieted his nerves. Wormtail, albeit distressed, was there with a mug of tea and a half-eaten biscuit for him. Although the biscuit was disappearing into his gob with every waking moment.

“‘S the Quidditch match in twenty, Prongs.” And there it went, the last bite…

“I said I’m

up

, aren’t I?” James took the steaming cup of tea from his friend before it, too, absconded down his throat. A few sips later, he was already hopping out of bed and settling a pair of glasses onto his face. And, although the familiar cat-shaped mark upon his forearm caught his eye as he did so, he chose to ignore it this time. When it came to Quidditch he meant business– and

Chasing

was his business.

The sweet smell of the Quidditch pitch. The faraway teeming of the crowd. He’d never get tired of it all.

“It’s the last match of the year, so I don’t want to see

any

tomfoolery! Good luck everyone, and remember– it could still be anyone’s game!”

The Bludgers and Snitch had just been released, beginning the countdown and rambling noisily past the players’ heads as they waited for the game to officially begin. Madame Hooch had done it a hundred times before, but even so– the rush of wind and complaining rumble of the Bludger barreling by made the hair stand up on the back of James’ neck in chilling memory. He held his ground: it was the Quaffle that he had his eye on. In moments, their collectively bated breaths would be interrupted by its release. Adrenaline would shoot through his veins, heartbeat halting almost completely in anticipation–

‘PHWEEET!’

In the same moment, Hooch had both tossed the Quaffle into the air and blown her whistle to mark the start of the match. It was the most critical moment in the game, the beginning– and James knew it. You couldn’t rely solely on the Seeker for winning the game, after all. It was up to he and his teammates to get the score high enough that it would even make a difference. That, and anyone worth their house colors knew it was the Chasers that made the game exciting.

Almost precisely at the same moment, he and one of his Ravenclaw counterparts darted toward the Quaffle; only, they weren’t alone. Another Chaser in blue had also shot upward to crowd James out.

“Watch it!” Seeing as he’d been too slow, the ball was already in their arms and being hurried toward the hoops at the end of the field. His nearby teammates hollered at him about it, but James wasn’t listening to them any more than he was paying attention to the announcer; he was too busy already speeding after them. Unfortunately, it was in vain.

“

And Nathaniel Belby makes it through! Ten points to Ravenclaw~!”

He swore to himself, but didn’t let it keep him down. Ten points was nothing. He could triple that back if their keepers could guard the goal hoops– ‘CRACK!’

James was only given time to hear a warning from their beaters, hurtling toward him fast, before another sound blocked out the memory of both. Well, not so much a sound as a feeling; a dull, aching smack of weight in his side. It was oddly familiar, too– like he’d been then and there before. Instantly, the impact was so great that he was thrown off of his broom and began plummeting to the pitch. All he could hear were the muffled voice of the announcer and the alarmed roar of the crowd. After that, it was only darkness.

“Leave some for James, Wormtail. Those aren’t even

yours

, after all.”

“Aw lay off him, ‘Moon! He’s stress eating. Prongs’d let him have ‘em, anyway.”

“Oh, sure. And I suppose he’d want us to read all his letters, too?”

“No, that’s silly. Wouldn’t make much sense when I’ve already read them all.”

“Sirius-!”

“I’m

kidding

-”

James opened his eyes then, already breaking into a grin to hear his friends all together, bickering or not. Peter was the first to notice, chewing a pumpkin pasty as he spoke.

“Look, he’s waking up!”

“Aye, you alright, James?”

“He just woke up, Pads. Don’t start by asking him a load of questions.”

“I’m just seeing how he’s feeling–”

“Better, now that you lot are here.” He was more than happy to interrupt them and hopefully lead the way to a lighter conversation. “Although my side hurts like mad. My head, too.”

With a sorry grimace, Remus nodded. “That bludger hit you hard enough, but you just about bounced off of the Slytherin tower. Would’ve been a lot worse if someone hadn't slowed you down.”

“What?” He tried to sit up in surprise, but immediately groaned in pain and gave up. “‘Feels like I bounced off all four towers…” The ache in his head didn’t distract him for long, however. “But what about the score? Who won, boys?” It was hard to tell by their faces.

“Well…” Sirius spoke first, shrugging his shoulders as if to soften the blow of bad news. The glint in his eye said otherwise.

“Well?”

He gave a chuckle, unable to hold it in much longer. “Somehow we managed to snag the cup without you, James. I’d say it was a miracle if Ravenclaw had a half decent Seeker!”

Peter chimed in then, caught up in the excitement. “Everyone was on their feet when you got hurt, James! All ‘ooo’s’ and ‘ahh’s’! After that, they were too ashamed to try too hard, I say.”

He laughed, “I’ll bet!” But winced again at the movement. “Almost makes it worth it.”

They were all chuckling together– friends once again, at least for the moment–  completely oblivious to the heeled footsteps approaching from the other side of the curtain. Then it was pulled back, and Madam Pomfrey’s kind but unamused face appeared. “If you three are done exciting Mr. Potter, I think it’s time you moved the festivities

out

of the Hospital Wing.” They had very clearly been making too much noise.

The boys began to stand despite their wanting to keep Prongs company. No one went against Pomfrey's word without regretting it. Besides, she hadn’t earned her reputation as such a great healer for nothing.

“We’ll see you again before too long, big boy!” Sirius seemed glad for an opportunity to smile at James again. Glad for a reason to share his optimism.

With a bit of a roll of his eyes, Remus chimed in too. “Madam Pomfrey knows what she’s doing. You’ll be right as rain.” And he, too, offered a gentle smile of support.

“It’ll be awfully boring without you,” Peter sulked.

“Aw, chin up Wormtail. We’ll be getting into trouble together again soon.” Then, in a quieter tone so that she might not overhear, “I’ll be back again for the full moon if it kills me.” The line was punctuated with a daring smirk.

The three of them were finally ushered out, leaving James alone with his thoughts.

He exhaled and looked about. It was true that Peter had eaten most of his snacks, but it was also true that he didn’t really care one way or the other. The pain in his head and side had made him a bit nauseous. That Bludger–

He froze. “How

stupid

of me…”  The dream, how could he forget the dream? Only, it hadn’t just been a dream. It had been a

warning

. And he’d ignored it. That fluffy little cat had predicted what was going to happen, and told him. That had become clear. His dreams were much more than just a bit of fun– they were… Well, James wasn’t quite sure what they were. In all that he’d read on the subject, that hadn’t been mentioned once.The closest instance he could call to mind involved messages passed between soulmates. But if he was communicating with his soulmate, that still didn’t explain how they knew about the Bludger.

He

certainly hadn’t had any premonitions like that. At least, not yet.

The confusion just made his head hurt all the more.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Marauders’ brief reunion over James’ injuries seemed to have done them well in the following weeks: fifth year had been the most demanding yet by far, and with O.W.L.s looming over their heads, they’d needed each others’ help more than ever before. There had hardly been enough time in the day to prepare themselves for the written exams alone, much less for sorting out their differences. And while James may have recovered in time for keeping Moony company with the others as he’d promised, that still hadn’t kept the term from hurtling to a close at a startling pace. There was less than a week before the Leaving Feast already.

The fact that they only had that long before they went their separate ways for the summer brought about a sense of remorse in James that he couldn’t throw, even as they sat relaxing by the lake. Moony with his book, Wormtail skipping stones, and Padfoot chewing a long blade of grass, looking almost as introspective as he was.

“Not long before we’re off to the train, is there?” James prompted, hoping to fit in as many more conversations with his friends as he could before then. He’d had enough silence for a lifetime after such an abundance of quiet study sessions.

“We’ve still got a week, haven’t we?” Sirius crossed his arms behind his head and gazed up at the sky above. It was a pleasantly sunny day, for once. “I don’t see why we can’t get up to some kind of trouble under that deadline.”

Remus let out a quiet sigh of exasperation from behind his book, but didn’t say any more than that. Peter continued foraging for stones nearby while he listened.

Padfoot had shut his eyes, basking in the sun peacefully as he continued. “Nothing that keeps us from the last trip to Hogsmeade though. We’ve got four butterbeers with our names on them.”

James picked at the grass beside him as he rested on his elbows. “Yeah..” While the idea made him smile, it didn’t do much to assuage that vague sense of urgency he couldn’t shake. “Maybe what I meant to say is that I’ll miss you lot.” He chuckled dryly.

Moony put down his reading, and gave a somewhat softened look. “I think it’s we who will miss you, Prongs. You’ll have Pads anyhow, won’t you?”

“Oh, I’ll keep him company. Flying off a cliff maybe, but company nonetheless.” The smirk that settled on Sirius’ lips as he spoke was the same he always wore when goading Remus. There was no need for him to open his eyes and see the look it earned him in response— it was simply a routine to him at that point. James chuckled. There was something reassuring about such a reliable pattern; an eye roll or good-natured scoff from Moony could always be counted on to follow Padfoot’s teasing remarks.

It was just then that James paused, the laugh on his lips fixed in his distraction; a flare of auburn hair had caught his eye from across the grounds. Lily looked content as he watched from afar, walking and talking pleasantly with Marlene McKinnon. Without him. Rather than being disheartened by this fact however, he found his frozen smile softening to something a little more earnest. He was glad for her, despite his longing. Hoped that she was being treated well by Severus, no matter how odious the boy’s personality. There had to be enough brains there to realize what he had. James knew he wasn’t much better after the way he’d behaved, but at least he wasn’t foul all the way down to his heart. If only he could find a way to make up for it without wrecking things further. Thankfully, before that familiar frustration whipped itself up within him again, his thoughts were interrupted.

Peter had approached behind him, hefting a stone in one hand. “We’ll be together again in a couple of months, Prongs— it’ll be alright.”

James blinked, and the spell was broken; he was back to laying in the grass with his mates. He looked up to his friend warmly, “Thanks for that, Peter.”
  
     “Right! Where to first, ‘gents? It’s our last, so we might as well make it a good one!” Sirius cast his arms wide, spinning ‘round to beam at them jovially. “I say we visit the Three Broomsticks first for a celebratory drink!”

“Or we go there last to see ourselves off with a toast?”

“You quiet ones always end up being clever, don’t you, ‘Moon?”

“If you say so,” Remus scoffed in reply.

“I do!” And he jostled into him teasingly.

“So do I—“ James bounded forward, linking arms with Moony and leading ahead to the shop in question. “—The ‘Broomsticks last, Zonko’s first!” Hogsmeade always seemed to invite a merry sort of spirit, and this visit was no different. They’d come as early as they could, and they intended on staying out just as late.

Zonko’s Joke Shop was bustling when they burst in, but not busy enough that they couldn’t nab a few tricks for the summer. There wouldn’t be half as many opportunities to use them away from Hogwarts, but it never hurt to be prepared for any circumstance.

Upon entering Honeydukes, however, it was packed more tightly than Zonko’s had been. So tightly, in fact, that it was almost impossible to see the counter from where they stood. Luckily, the Marauders weren’t inexperienced when it came to a candy crisis, and quickly split up to begin gathering provisions. Peter, having saved up his allowance since their last visit for exactly this reason, had his arms full of what must’ve been one of every sweet in sight; Remus, frugal even when being paid for by his friends, returned with a few boxes of Bertie Bott’s and other long-lasting candies like everlasting bubblegum and lollies; James, thinking he might want to send his friends something to nibble on once their piles ran out, simply picked out a few of the basics and a sugar quill or two for his father; and Sirius, having purchased a bundle before realizing he wanted even more, was already back with another handful. They managed to find everything they wanted, but not before some bickering about what to put back and what to keep. In the end the four figured whatever they’d save wasn’t worth the looks they were being given and just took the lot.

The sun warmed their cheeks as they jostled their way outside.

“There’s still the trolly, you know.” Moony half smiled at the large bags of sweets they were swinging beside themselves. “We’re not marching off to war and putting a ration on.”

“Maybe not a ration, but there

is

a war on. Even if Prongs’ father won’t hear of it.”

The four of them exchanged uneasy looks at such a sharp reminder of reality. It was true, what Padfoot said, and they all knew it— but the thought was still too troubling for them to dwell on for long. The boys had come to an unspoken agreement that they needed to savor what they had left of their youth as long as they could, but saying so out loud would only make them cowards. There was this feeling that there wasn’t much time left before everything changed for good, and it was a thought too horrible to mention.

Prongs slowed. They’d come to a more secluded turn of the path. “He’s worried, they both are— mum doesn’t sleep for days after an attack.” His mother and father had taught him to do what was right in the first place; but when every waking moment was colored with fear for their only son’s life, ‘right’ got complicated.

“Dumbledore’s keeping us safe though, isn’t he?” Peter spoke everyone’s next instinct in one question;

would

he keep them safe? The understanding was that Voldemort wouldn’t dare attack Hogwarts.

“For now.” Even Sirius glanced over at James then, as they’d never actually voiced doubt in him before. It had a silencing effect on all four boys. But they couldn’t run from it forever, and he knew it. Prongs met Padfoot’s gaze with hardened resolve. “He can’t do it alone.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sat down with their butterbeer, the four boys got to work facing the truth of the matter. They couldn’t be overheard in the back of the bustling Three Broomsticks.

“We’re cowards if we don’t do it.” Sirius threw his hands up and sat back in his seat. “Who are we if we don’t stand up for what’s right?”

“Alive, for one. It may be what’s right, but not everyone has a death wish, Padfoot.” Remus scratched at the corner of his mug tensely.

James exhaled. “Who else is going to stand? If we become Aurors, then we’ll probably end up going toe to toe with half the Slytherins, anyway.”

Remus looked a little sheepish and reserved himself to looking into his butterbeer.

“But we aren’t Aurors…” Peter spoke up now, glancing at each of them a bit worriedly. “How are we supposed to fight the likes of You Know Who? We haven’t even graduated.”

“No, we’re not. Yet.” James reasoned. It was a fair point to make. They were just kids, really. Ahead of their class maybe, but still kids.

“So, we prepare. Learn everything we can before we graduate and give it all we’ve got ‘soon as we hear the word ‘go’.” Sirius took a large swig of his drink before continuing. “Could win the war

twice

as fast.”

“Do you really think we need to start thinking about this already?” Remus cautioned, “Haven't we got enough to worry about as it is?”

“It’d be stupid to wait around for things to get bad enough we’re

forced

to act.” Was Sirius’ very final sounding response.

James could feel the hurt in Moony’s expression, even if Padfoot hadn’t called him stupid directly. “I don’t want it to be true either, ‘Moon. I don’t think any of us do.” He looked at each of them pointedly. “But that won’t stop the way things are changing.

Remus pursed his lips in grim acceptance. Then sighed. “No… I suppose it won’t.”

Peter still seemed half convinced as he wiped butterbeer foam from his upper lip. “Er, Sirius, I don’t mean to criticize, but—how exactly are we going to ‘prepare’?”

“Well.. I hadn’t got round to that part yet.”

It came to James in a moment of sudden clarity just then; an idea so inspired only he could have conjured it. “Sparring and spellbooks, every day.” This war wouldn’t tear them apart— it would bring them closer than ever before. He’d make sure of it. “

Especially

over the holiday.”

“That leaves these two out a bit though, doesn’t it?” Sirius raised an eyebrow, though he likely suspected there was more to the plot than James was letting on. There always was.

“Not if one of us just so happens to have an illegal motorbike simply itching for a joyride.” He knew he looked smug. It felt perfectly justified in the wake of such genius.

“What?” Remus sputtered halfway through a gulp of butterbeer.

Peter was more enthusiastic about the idea. “That makes so much sense! Then he could visit me and Moony!”

Both Remus and Sirius were looking directly at James as if he’d just unleashed a litter of Blast-Ended Skrewts onto an innocent crowd of bystanders. He went right on smiling. “Precisely.” What better time to settle your differences than in preparation for war?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It was July 12th, 1976. For the first time in history, a blood traitor was being invited to join the ‘Sacred 28’ in celebrating their elite status, and it was none other than James Potter himself.
    Or at least, that’s how he viewed it.
    Ever since James could remember, he’d been excluded from every pure blood activity known to wizard kind. And glad of it. That was only partly due to his Gryffindor status— they might’ve accepted that alone. What really kept him from hobnobbing with the ‘best of the best’ was his family’s history of sympathizing with muggles, and that made his temper boil under his collar more than anything. It wasn’t that he wanted to go, it was that he despised the principles upon which he was being

excluded—

Thus, upon receiving a frivolously elaborate letter from the

Malfoys

, he was thoroughly shocked. Both his mother and father were astonished at the news as well, eyebrows raised over their breakfasts in polite surprise. But they agreed; it would be James’ decision whether to go of course, and mother would want to help with the wardrobe if he were to attend. That sounded all well and good— but what James hadn’t considered was Mrs. Potter’s taste in formalwear.

Sirius guffawed- “

That’s

what you’re wearing?” He’d been ‘packing’ all morning, and still couldn’t help laughing every time he was reminded of the reality that James might actually be

going.

He rolled his eyes and lobbed a book at Padfoot’s head. It missed, but only barely. “Shut up!”

“You look like my great grandfather, and he’s been dead twenty years!”

“I said shut

up-!

” He tossed another paperback at his head, and spoke in a hushed tone. “Do you want my mother to hear you?”

“I’m not the one throwing things.” Maybe it was because of James’ temper, or because he didn’t want to hurt Euphemia’s feelings, but Sirius finally lowered his voice. The snickering still persisted in spurts, however. “You look—“

“Yes, I got that.” James wasn’t particularly happy with the robes his mother had chosen either; long, blood red, and thick with lace. Having older parents sometimes meant even

older

tastes. He shuffled in front of the mirror for a better look. His shoulders sagged. The collar was enormous- it shot out at the sides like two very large, very red carrots- and the tails dragged behind him like he was some kind of enormous royal cockroach. He groaned, “What do I do?”

“You could always wear a bag over your head.” Sirius offered this very helpful advice from his bed across the room, where he had begun browsing one of his muggle magazines. James pulled an ugly black shoe off of his foot and threw it right at him. This time it landed and smacked him in the head. “Wha-

ow!!

”

“You are

not

helpful. Besides, shouldn’t you be leaving soon?”

He sighed and tipped his magazine down again. “Don’t change the subject, Prongs. Look at it this way: the more of a knob you look, the less that lot will suspect you.” Sirius resumed reading his Santana article. “I still don't think it’s worth it.”

“We’re going to need all the help we can get. If that means going undercover to the gloomiest party in history, then so be it.”
  
     This was what coursed through his mind as he sat all alone at a large, ornately carved dining table in the very depths of Malfoy Manor. The corridors and archways smacked of an inherited breed of elegance, and every piece of furniture was clawed and black as ebony; it almost made him feel as if they might suddenly jump to life and chase him off the grounds. And why not? He was a stranger. All around him moved about the darkest of dark wizards, eyeing him and murmuring amongst themselves. It was easy to see he didn’t belong: a Gryffindor lost in a sea of Slytherins, writhing and whispering in tongues like the snakes they were. At least, that’s what it felt like.

Had he even a mite less of self control, James might’ve sneered at them. Might’ve stood on a couple of tables and jinxed some miserable old hags. But no, he couldn’t. He couldn’t make a fool of himself because he was a guest, even if Lucius and Narcissa likely only invited him to rub their successes in his face.

And so, he continued to sit there a little bit awkwardly, waiting for the ceremonies to commence. The itinerary was very detailed of course, and instructed everyone to enjoy this ‘celebration of tradition’ in painstakingly detailed cursive. What a laugh. Every little step had obviously been agonized over, and yet not a drop of butterbeer or pumpkin juice to be seen. Not a smile in sight. How anyone could go to so much expense for not a

bit

of payoff, he didn’t know.

“…James Potter?”

He nearly jumped— he hadn’t heard anyone approach, and the house elf quartet wasn’t even playing that loud. He turned to see Sirius’ brother, dressed in similarly fancy dress and looking absolutely perplexed.

“What are you doing here?”

James straightened and searched for a good lie. “My parents forced me,” seemed like the best route. “Why are

you

here?”

Regulus sighed and rolled his eyes with that ever-present scowl of his. “I think it’s rather obvious that I’m here for the same reason.” He uncrossed his arms from behind his back and pulled out a chair. James couldn’t help marveling at the detail on his sleeves now that he could see it, and remembered Sirius saying how uncomfortable his mother’s little costumes always were. Regulus did seem a bit stiff. “I can only assume Narcissa and Lucius invited you in a twisted jest, then.” His pursed lips hardly resembled a smile.

“That’s what I’m thinking.” James shrugged. He’d never spent very much time around Regulus before, but he

really

needed to lighten up. “Is it funny yet?”

For a moment he almost thought Regulus didn’t get it— his expression didn’t change. But then he took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’m still waiting for the punchline.”

That actually made James snort, which earned him a scandalized look. “So am I. I almost threw my Patronus out when I saw this room full of Dementors.”

Now it was Regulus’ turn to sound indignant. “And

you

can cast a corporeal

Patronus

spell?”

“Sure I can.” He had. Once. There was still time to practice.

“Forgive me for being rude, but I find that hard to believe.” Regulus sighed as if bored. “That kind of magic takes patience and diligence you don’t possess.”

“You’d be surprised.” He replied flatly. James wasn’t about to reveal that they had the patience and diligence to become Animagi earlier that year, was he? “What can you do that’s so special then, hm? Other than sulking in corners gathering dust?”

He looked disconcerted and straightened the front of his waistcoat. “Brew Polyjuice Potion, for one.” Regulus scoffed, quickly glancing around to see if anyone was listening in as he did. “My brother makes me out to be that much of an idiot, does he?”

“No.” James quickly defended— though Padfoot did tend to exaggerate when it came to his brother.

“

That

sounded convincing.” Regulus remarked with a humorless chuckle.

“‘Didn’t need it to.” He sneered, and crossed his arms. James didn’t exactly find all of this sass charming. Regulus was like a better mannered, more hostile version of Sirius, and it was beginning to rub him the wrong way. “Why’d you even come over here in the first place? Just to give me a hard time?”

Regulus huffed softly and wouldn’t meet James’ gaze. “No.” He replied reluctantly. It was the most emotion he’d ever seen from the Slytherin boy. “You just happen to be the first exciting thing to occur at any of these dreadful affairs in ages.”

That was surprisingly flattering. “Oh.” James felt a little bit bad after being so hostile, considering he was a little older and Regulus didn’t really have any friends, as far as he knew.

The silence that followed was painfully uncomfortable, despite the fact that they really didn’t have anyone else to talk to. It wasn’t like they had small talk to make.

There was the sharp pinging of silverware against glass, and everyone’s attention was drawn to Lucius Malfoy. “I’d like to direct everyone’s attention to the manor grounds for our next event…” As he continued, James looked to Regulus for some kind of tell on what was in store, but his somewhat exasperated expression revealed nothing. Lucius went on, “…partners, as is traditional. Choose wisely… only your victor is spared.”

“Oh, great.” He quickly glanced around the room and knew there wasn’t a single other option— he’d have to ask Regulus. James turned back to him again, and found he was sitting expectantly.

“I hope you’re not afraid of a little competition.”

James passed it off with a laugh. “Never.” Competition was his strong suit, after all.

“Splendid. I won’t feel any remorse at your loss, then.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“You’re holding it wrong.”     “It’s a bird, how else am I s’posed to hold it?”      “By its legs , don’t you read? ”     They'd only been playing some twenty minutes, and Sirius’ best friend was almost more obnoxious than the reputation that preceded him.     “‘Course I do, but what book has this kind of nonsense game in it?”      Regulus looked at James in utter bewilderment. How did anyone reach sixteen without having read the classics? Or at least heard about them? Alice in Wonderland was common knowledge, for crying out loud! Wasn’t he supposed to be clever ?      Of course, James only took his stunned silence as forfeit. “‘Figures.” Regardless, he took his advice and turned the enchanted flamingo around. “This is absolutely mad, you know.”    “I’m afraid that’s the whole point, Potter.” Regulus grumbled as he tried to keep his living croquet ball from crawling away again. His cousins may have had the stomach to intimidate their hedgehogs into submission, but he never had the heart. Even hitting them with too much force sent pains through him. He'd been counting on James to suffer the same and hopefully guarantee his loss— but the fool had only gone and befriended the creature with infuriating ease.     Regulus was forced to watch as he knocked his ball through the next hoop, then whooped and hurried over to his hedgehog to share in their victory.    He sighed and looked down at his own. The animal didn’t even spare him a cautionary glance as it started on its merry way again. When he prodded it with the shiny toe of a shoe; it only stopped for a moment before resuming its little crawl with indifference. Regulus pursed his lips in resignation. “We’ll simply have to make do then, won’t we?”      “Oi, it’s your turn, mate!”     ‘ Mate.’ Regulus shut his eyes for a brief moment, mortified if anyone heard that kind of informal slang over the hedges. The way James hollered every word he spoke, they likely had. “Please have a fragment of patience, will you?” Graces , even Cousin Bella let him lose at his own pace! What was the hurry?       Regulus set his shoulders and straightened his flamingo-mallet. Tipped up his chin in preparation and readied his swing. “ Fortis fortuna adiuvat…” He murmured to himself, and took the shot.     His hedgehog toppled haphazardly toward a hoop and rolled to a stop just next to it. Fortune hadn’t exactly favored him, but it was certainly closer than ever before.      “Not bad, for a Death Eater.”     Regulus could feel himself bristle. He jerked and looked up at James with repressed outrage. “I’m not a Death Eater .” Yet. He was only fifteen, but he knew that’s what he was destined for, was being groomed for. Still, the idea perturbed him. There was so much pressure piling onto that word lately, he could hardly stand to hear it anymore.     James didn’t seem phased by his offense. Instead, he scoffed. “You’re really trying to tell me that’s not in the cards? Look where we are.” He gestured at the carefully manicured Malfoy grounds around them. A peahen meandered casually behind him. “I’m the only wizard within the nearest kilometer that wouldn’t hex a muggle on the spot.”     “…you make terrible conversation.” Regulus’ expression turned sour. That wasn’t a talk he’d been willing to finish with his brother, let alone the best friend who’d taken him away in the first place. No matter how charming everyone liked to think he was.    “Just pointing out the obvious.” James gave a shrug as he knocked his ball through another hoop, and somehow managed to look a little more pleased with himself as he continued. “You lot must think you have everything figured out.”     Regulus clenched his teeth to keep from a thoroughly uncouth outburst in response. What a big headed fool James was. Without even thinking, he struck his poor little hedgehog so hard it tumbled through not only the hoop closest, but the next as well. He softened some with worry as soon as he realized, but that frustrated scowl on his brow remained. Couldn’t he take a hint? “Don’t underestimate me, Potter. It would be a grave mistake on your part.”     There came a dismissive snort. “You can’t even cast a Patronus charm! What have I got to worry about from little Reggie’ Black?”    That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.     Regulus raised his flamingo to rush toward James and poke him in the chest with it. “Plenty!” It squawked with each added punctuation. “ You can’t even brew a simple transfiguration potion! How about divination? Dream interpretation? I’d wager you couldn’t resist an Imperius curse if your life depended on it.” He challenged.    But in another confounding turn, James completely bypassed this attack, and instead reacted with interest. “Wait, go back to that bit about dreams— you know how to make sense of all that?”     Regulus glanced away in utter confusion and let his arm fall back to his side. “…what importance is that to you?”     James readied himself for his turn as if there hadn’t even been a disagreement in the first place. “Well, what you said earlier had me thinking…” He only explained after scoring yet another point, but that pride in his eyes had been replaced by something that Regulus couldn’t quite decipher. “You could help me out, and I certainly have loads to teach you— why not level the playing field before things go pear shaped?”     “I’m afraid I don’t follow.“ It was such an absurd proposition that Regulus could only shake his head and look to his own hedgehog. “Oh, mercy sakes!” It was nowhere to be seen. He’d let it sneak away in his distraction.     “I think I saw it go that way.” James jerked a thumb toward a nearby turn in the hedge maze. It lead to a spindly little grove of fruit trees hidden away at the edge of the grounds.     As Regulus turned in that direction, James’ hedgehog rolled past and down the pathway ahead of him. He looked back in confusion.    James shrugged, “Seemed only fair we counted that as a turn. Now I’ve taken mine.” He smirked and started on his way.      The two stood before a muddy patch, hedgehogs smack in the middle. They looked on quietly, contemplating the game as time ticked on. A peacock cry broke their silence from a few hedges away.     “What are you waiting for? Not afraid of a little muck, are you?”     Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Certainly not.” He bluffed quickly, though he couldn’t help eyeing the intimidating mess as he did. This particular suit had taken three fittings to meet Mother’s expectations; twice she demanded the tailor switch between peaked and notched lapels— and when he dared use the wrong shade of plum, she nearly withdrew her wand. It didn’t matter that the poor tailor could make any adjustment in a pinch, it was the very knowledge of it ever being contrary in the first place that outraged her.     “Go on, then— get in there.”    He glanced over and set his jaw. Mother would hang him for this, even if he wiped the evidence away with a simple spell. But modesty be damned, he wasn’t about to let James Potter get the better of him. Certainly not at a game he’d been playing since childhood.     With decided movements, Regulus strode forward and planted his feet firmly in the muck. He could already feel it seeping into his stockings, but stubbornly set that aside as he swung. The stubborn thing didn’t even move—just lay there. That was a bit anticlimactic.    “Maybe I could give you a croquet lesson while I’m at it.” James snickered as he came to stand beside him and take aim, coattails dragging behind without a second thought. As if he were utterly weightless despite his equally elaborate ensemble.     Somehow, it was just such a minute detail that persuaded him. “You’re on.”     “‘Sorry?” James looked up with interest.    “Your proposal— you’re on. But not a word of this to my brother, or anyone else for that matter. It’d be my head.”     “ Alright !” Regulus was startled to find his hand grasped and shaken with such sudden intensity he almost fell over. “You’ve got my word. He won’t be home for half the holiday, so that’s sorted already.” The jarring sensation of physical contact, no matter how brief, still had him frozen in place for a moment, staring stupidly at his palm. James hardly seemed to notice as he sent his hedgehog tumbling back toward the playing field.     Thankfully, his own ball had already put its mind to tottering off in the same direction. Regulus quickly recovered and put his hand back down. There didn’t seem any sense in disturbing its course, so he simply kept a careful eye on it and followed at a leisurely pace. With manners he didn’t quite expect, James did the same. “We’re not meeting at your home, surely?” He would’ve preferred they rendezvous on equal ground of some sort. “I thought somewhere less.. predictable would be appropriate.”    “You got any better ideas?”    “No.. no, I suppose not.”    “Neither have I. So it's my way or the highway.”    Regulus puzzled. “'Your way or the highway'?”    “It means take it or leave it.” James explained simply as they walked side by side. “We tutor at my place or not at all.”    ‘ Tutor. ’ As silly an idea it was, Regulus knew he needed to take advantage of it. There wouldn’t be many more opportunities like this one before hell’s gates broke open and he was left to his own devices. James Potter was pompous and brash, to be sure— but that didn’t erase his accomplishments. There was genuine skill behind that obnoxiously handsome grin, skill it would be foolishly prideful to ignore. That, and his fellow Slytherins weren’t exactly keen to share what they knew.    Regulus abruptly stopped his hedgehog’s journey with a well placed foot. They’d reached the end. “I believe it’s your turn.”    “Right.” With a little wiggle, James readied for his final shot. But just as he did, he looked at him and winked . Regulus frowned, but before he could voice his disapproval, James’ hedgehog pitched into the bushes.     “What—?”    “Go ‘head. Take the winning shot.”    As soon as it clicked, Regulus was overwhelmed with indignation. “Surely you can’t be serious ?”    “I don’t think Sirius would let you win if it killed him.”    “That’s completely beside the point.” Regulus huffed and ignored this effort at humor. “I’d be an honorless cad if I accepted your pity as a victory.”    “From where I’m standing, you might be one either way.” He snorted. “Just take it. I don’t exactly need to win. Especially not eugenicist croquet.”    “How do you even know that word?”    “I read— some. ”    “You mean you have friends who read.”    “I mean I read, okay? Just go already!”    “I refuse!”    “Well I’m not gonna take it. Guess we’ll have to play forever...” James propped his flamingo up against a bush and crossed his arms. The look on his face said he was willing to wait even longer than that, so long as it meant his loss. Never before had anyone volunteered themselves for defeat so completely.     Well! Two could play at that game! Regulus refused to be manhandled into winning— refused to let James Potter best him in any way— and if that meant enduring the consequences right alongside him, so be it. He wasn’t about to stand aside and watch as James crowned himself with martyrdom. Simply put? That was stupid.     “Your head is so empty I’d be astounded not to find a family of pixies had taken up residence in it…” Regulus muttered under his breath. He set his own flamingo down, crossed his arms, and looked down his nose at James in stubborn disdain. “The game has an end. And not a pleasant one, either.”     “It’ll be nice to have company, then.”    Regulus only shook his head at such a pointlessly rebellious display, much like he used to at witnessing his elder brother’s antics.     “Think again.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“

Off with their heads

!”

Bellatrix Lestrange let her victory cry ring out with a sneer, looking as proud as a Malfoy peacock as she sat on the ceremonial throne. Being eliminated at the start began to look more and more like a stroke of luck the further the game had stretched on; she’d clawed her way to the top with unrelenting savagery on the playing field, and used every opportunity to terrorize her opponents along the way. Once Barty Jr. was out of the running, there was nothing left to do but wait for her to be finished. So after a good hour passed and the moment finally came to do their penance, their loss seemed to have greatly softened its blow.

“Fancy we can sneak away yet?”

“You’re quite unphased by this, aren’t you?”

“Perfectly. I’m a bit bored, ‘tell you the truth.” James sighed, a bizarre feat considering his decapitated head sat on the table beside him.

“This doesn’t shock or appall you whatsoever?” Regulus spoke from his own lap. He figured as a Gryffindor, James would at least be outraged. “Bella’s over there lopping off heads, and you’re not the least bit concerned?”

“‘Na. Obviously wears off eventually. It’d be funny, only I keep expecting men in green capes to take her away to St. Mungo’s.”

Regulus couldn’t help giving a little chuckle himself at the image, but he quickly pursed his lips to cut it off. “Well I don’t expect we’ll be missed. Mother and Father don’t attend public events, and the social elites are clearly preoccupied with their own fantasies.” The young Malfoys, as hosts, were lucky enough to have an excuse not to participate.

“Yeah, they’re having too much fun playing court over there to notice the likes of

us.

” James said sarcastically. “See?” He raised an arm and waggled his fingers in the direction of Lucius and Narcissa, who were busy tittering with their company over a luxurious spread. “

Woooo~! Helloo~!”

“

Stop

that-!” Regulus quickly set his head down and shot up from his seat to try and stop him before he humiliated them both. His body stumbled over and smacked at James’ arm.

“Oi!

Lucyy~!”

“What do you think you’re

doing?”

James laughed and held him off with one hand. “Bloody oblivious, they are. We could be flamingos, for all they care!”

Regulus did his best to stand and straighten up his robes, despite the fact there was already mud splattered all over the trousers and coat. “Need I remind you of how necessary

secrecy

is in this matter?”

“Nobody’s looking, don’t lose your head over it.”

He had to pause before he replied just to cope with such a bad pun. “Please don’t make me regret this any more than I already do.”

“You’re so

glum

, Regulus. Really ought to laugh more. It’s good for your health, you know.”

“Forgive me for dying young in the absence of humor with substance.”

“Lead the way, will you?”

He sighed and grabbed his head from the table. “

Please

be discreet?”

James picked his own up and began to follow. “Well, seeing as you asked so nice..”

“Right— link arms with me, this might be a bit tricky.” James had requested they go somewhere more private. Then, once deep within the hedge maze, he began to fumble something out of his pocket with his one free hand.

“Pardon me?”

He pulled out a ring sized jewelry case. “Actually, nevermind. I’ve got a better idea.” James opened the small box and knelt down in front of Regulus, who immediately blanched. He’d seen his fair share of proposals, and these were the first steps to every one of them. There was no need for such panic however, as he was only setting it on the grass between them. Nearly gave him a heart attack. “We’ll need to touch them at the same time. You’ve used a portkey before, right?” The rings inside looked like heirlooms; simple, yet delicate.

“Yes. Er— I’m familiar with the

mechanics

of a portkey.” Regulus knelt beside him.

“You’re sure you can manage with one hand? I don’t want to wind up losing you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Okay.” He didn’t bother to question him again. “On three, then. One…” James plucked his glasses off and tucked them into his breast pocket before quickly readying himself for their imminent departure.

Regulus, feeling he ought to do something to prepare himself, adjusted his grip on his absurdly decapitated head.

“Two…”

Their hands hovered over the portkey in anticipation.

“Three…!”

As the two boys’ hands collided, the world around them twisted.

“

Ooghf!”

Regulus bounced unceremoniously onto a mattress. His head was spinning, despite the fact it’d reattached itself. Apparently the enchantment wasn’t strong enough to survive teleportation.

“Go easy. Don’t want you getting sick on the rug, now do we?” James was looking in a nearby mirror and ruffling his hair.

He groaned and sat up. They were in a bedroom, clearly of someone much older, by the taste. Even Regulus had school banners on his walls— these were lined with old photographs and paintings of various witches and wizards. They all seemed awfully friendly, smiling and waving at him from their perches.

“James-?” A gentle voice called from the hallway. “Are you home already?”

Regulus’ head jerked in James’ direction frantically for some kind of plan, but he only waved a quieting hand at him. “Yeah, I’m in here mum!”

“

James-!”

He hissed at him, full of scorn, before the door opened and Regulus had to compose himself.

He was surprised to see a witch with silver hair pinned up in simple waves and laugh lines at her eyes that spoke of her youth. He’d never seen someone look so happy to be old. “Oh— you didn’t mention you were bringing company, dear.” She smiled at Regulus all the same. “Why don’t you introduce us?”

“Right, course— mother, this is Sirius’ brother, Regulus Black. I’ve agreed to secretly tutor him over the summer holiday. You know how it is.”

Regulus could only stare at him for going no more than a couple hours without spilling their secret. But as a guest, he couldn’t allow himself much more than that.

“Regulus, this is mum-“

She came forward to take his hand in both of hers. “Euphemia, to my friends—and I do hope we can be friends.”

He glanced away at her unflinching warmth. “A pleasure, er,

Euphemia

.” It was a bit out of his comfort zone to call an adult by their first name, but it was even further out of his comfort zone to refuse; but she didn’t hold his hand hostage when he pulled away, which was a mercy.

“Now, you

must

stay for tea, dear. We’ve got a fresh pot brewing already, and Monty will want to hear all about the party— oh, goodness! Your

robes

. What a shame!”

Regulus, alarmed, looked around frantically for some kind of excuse. He’d managed to escape scrutiny from his own mother, but it was somehow even more improper for Mrs. Potter to be the one to call him out. His cheeks flushed scarlet, and he tried to stutter an apology. “I apologize, I—“

“We’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we?” Euphemia solved simply. “You can give your clothes to James, and I’ll wash them while you two boys have your fun. I’ll take the portkey back to your father now though, if you’d be so kind..?”

“Oh, yeah— Almost forgot. Sorry mum.” He loped over and handed her the box, then began unbuttoning his ruffled dress shirt.

“Did you have a good time?” Mrs. Potter ran a hand through her son’s wild hair in an effort to tame it, but to no avail.

He looked to Regulus for help with a sorry look. Regulus only offered a reserved shrug in response. Neither of them wanted to go in the first place; in fact, escaping might’ve been the only highlight.

“We fulfilled our duties as

guests

.” James asserted. “But as soon as that torture was over with, I figured I’d invite this lost soul over to to wash the bad taste out of his mouth.”

Remarkably, Euphemia chuckled instead of scolding her son. Mother would have cut Regulus’ tongue out for speaking so casually with her. “And I'm so glad you did.” She turned back to him with interest. “We’ve heard so much about you, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” He wanted to think that didn’t mean Sirius liked to complain about him to anyone that would listen, but knew that would only be wishful thinking. “Well, I’ll let you two get dressed! There’s egg and cress waiting for you when you’ve finished.”

“Thanks, mum!”

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Potter.”

Though he kicked himself for forgetting, Euphemia didn’t seem to mind the formality. “You're very welcome— and don’t forget to wash up.” She reminded gently, before leaving them to change.

Regulus watched her go in fascination. “…is she under an Imperius curse?” He couldn’t find any other explanation.

James looked at him like he was a nut. “What? No!” He squinted in confusion again. “What?”

He flushed to be made out as such an idiot, and pursed his lips. “She's just so… cheerful. It escapes me how anyone could be so..”

“Nice?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Yes.

Nice.

”

“That’s unbelievably sad, you know.” James’ hands stopped working at the intricacies of his shirt.

Regulus’ neck went hot. “No it isn’t. It’s realistic.” He defended lamely.

James shook his head to himself and started for the door. “C’mon, we’re going to my room.”

“We are?”

“Yes, we are.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Regulus observed politely from the doorway as James waltzed into his bedroom and began rummaging through a drawer without hesitation. Just as he’d predicted, the walls were covered with Gryffindor and Quidditch team bunting he immediately recognized— one of his favorites being the Ballycastle Bats. But the room was tidier than he’d imagined; though a book or two lay about here and there, his bed was made and there weren’t any clothes on the floor. James didn’t have quite as many posters from muggle magazines as Sirius either, but he did have a whole collection of photos scattered about the head of his bed. He wasn’t close enough to make them out.    “What are you, a vampire? Come in—” James retrieved a pile of clothes and dumped them on the dresser. “I’ll do my best to find you something, but there’s no accounting for taste.” A black jumper with a thick knit wound up in his arms, accompanied by a pair of worn blue jeans. “You want socks?”    Regulus raised an eyebrow. “If you please.” Blue jeans… really! Might as well get tattooed while they were at it…    “Here y’go.” James added a pair of tube socks to the pile before he resumed tugging off his robes. As soon as his coat fell to the floor, Regulus’s eyes widened; he’d only just realized that Potter didn’t give two shakes of a hippogriff’s tail about modesty. Even as he’d unbuttoned his shirt in the other room, he didn’t think James was about to start undressing right in front of him. “Where’s your restroom??” He blurted.    “‘Cross the hall.” James answered simply.    Regulus quickly saw himself out.      He sighed to himself once he was alone. It wasn’t like he’d been expecting the Royal treatment, but denim? And while the jumper was a more acceptable material, it was so... Well, it looked cozy actually, but that was beside the point. Regulus ran his fingers over the careful knit. These were James Potter’s clothes. James Potter had laughed and eaten and presumably even slept in these clothes, and here he was, about to wear them himself. Like some kind of wannabe fanclub member. Regulus thanked his own arrogance for that; if he’d simply kept to himself and left James alone, none of this would be happening. His robes would still be clean, at the very least. Thank the stars Mrs. Potter was kind enough to right that wrong for him.     There was a knock at the door. “‘You alright in there?”     Regulus jumped, then rolled his eyes. Of course James was already getting impatient. “No. I mean, yes. Just.. give me a moment!” Time to get on with it. There was no ignoring the mess he’d made of his own things, and it was only temporary, anyway. He’d just keep this to himself— and hopefully, James would too.     “…and they didn’t even notice!”    As Regulus came down the stairs, the sound of entertained laughter drifted from the room ahead.    “Well, at least there was some merit to your attendance, James. I was worried you’d be tearing your hair out in boredom by now.” A wizard with a graying beard and matching mustache regarded his son with endearment. His good-natured gaze fell upon Regulus as he came into view. “Well, don’t you look just like your brother!” Both James and Regulus winced to hear that, but neither mentioned it. “Come, have a seat.”   He did as he was told, stiff in such unfamiliar clothes. Euphemia set a plate in front of him, sliced fruits and two halves of a sandwich waiting patiently to be eaten. “Thank you.” He murmured reflexively.    “Fleamont.” The older wizard extended a hand over the table. “Monty suits me better though, wouldn’t you agree?”    It was an odd parallel to his handshake with James; Mr. Potter even sported the same glasses.    “Regulus Black, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”    “And every bit a gentleman! There’s no need to impress us, Regulus. You can forget all that while you’re here. We’re all just modern day heathens anyway, aren’t we?”    He didn’t have a response to that— the very manners he was being told to ignore kept him from it, as nice a gesture it was.    “James was just telling us about your adventures today.” He prompted.     Adventures? You could hardly call their day adventurous . “Oh?” Was the more polite response he gave. He took a bite.    “I never imagined that the Sacred 28 would play The Queen’s Croquet.” Euphemia mused. “Lewis Carroll was a muggle, if I recall.”    Regulus couldn’t immediately reply without rudely speaking through the egg and cress sandwich in his mouth, but James, on the other hand, had already finished his food. He snapped his fingers in triumphant eureka. “ Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.”     “Yes, well done! We haven’t read that one for quite some time, have we?”    So he did know it— and presumably, they’d read the book together. Regulus wondered what it would be like to read aloud with someone you loved. He imagined it to be a perfectly tranquil experience.    “Took me ages to remember that one.”    Finally, he found his tongue. Something he remembered telling himself many times came to mind. “The Queen’s Croquet may be an unconventional reference to class and the idea of ‘order,’ but it’s a necessary reminder that only the resourceful get ahead in the belly of chaos.”    “It doesn’t take very much ‘resourcefulness’ to brutalize an animal.” James spoke very matter-of-factly. Apparently the memory of Bellatrix’s violent swing hadn’t left either of them unscathed.    Euphemia and Fleamont cast a furtive glance at each other over the table.    “No. But it does take strength of will.” That was what he’d always been told, anyway.    “Or cruelty. ” James countered. He was completely unflinching in his delivery, taking the matter more seriously than ever. The fact that he only echoed Regulus’ thoughts was even more unsettling; he couldn’t come up with an argument against his own feelings so quickly.     Thankfully, Mr. Potter thought it wise to step in with an offhanded grace. “While I always admire a battle of wits, I think you two might find a better use of your time.” He gathered their plates. “It sounds like you have a lot to learn from one another. Why not whip up some brilliant ideas for lessons— eh, James?” He added this bit as he winked at his son, (implying he ought to humor him, from what Regulus could tell), and made his way to the kitchen. “I’ll look the other way on underage magic as long as you keep it in the garden.”    Regulus watched James perk up at the prospect, and turn to him with a newfound electricity. His heart flip-flopped into his stomach. Why did he make him feel important just by looking at him?    “No time to waste then, eh?” The imploring glint in his eyes was inescapable. They were hazel.    “No, I suppose not.” Regulus cleared his throat and allowed himself to be led away from the table. And, though he remembered to push in his chair, he forgot to mention the neatly folded pile of dirty laundry sitting next to it in his captivation.    Euphemia didn’t hold it against him. It was a small price to pay to possibly make a difference in his life in their own small, but meaningful way. She looked a bit somber as she watched them go and gathered Regulus’ muddy clothes. “You would think he’d never known a kind word in all the world.”    Fleamont had come back in by then, and pulled Euphemia close with an arm around her shoulder. He rubbed her arm reassuringly. “Well he has now, dove. James will be good to him, and we can only hope that steers the boy in the right direction. He’s never left one of his Lost Boys behind, now has he?”    “He does seem to like him, doesn’t he?” She glanced at him affectionately at the thought. “I so admire Jamies’ generous heart. He has such a way with healing of the spirit.”    “All will be well. Just give him some time.” He sat back down and unfolded his newspaper. “I expect they’ll need to get to know each other before any 'healing' can begin.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The garden was almost overwhelming in its peaceful splendor; a grand weeping willow languished over much of it, an array of wildflowers  and ferns penned in only by shrubbery for privacy. James was rolling up his sleeves as he strode out onto the grass, wand held in his teeth. The ease with which he’d fallen into this whole arrangement was hard to believe; it was still difficult to tell whether he'd been serious about needing Regulus' help or simply needed a stand in for his brother.

Regulus quit fiddling with his own wand, and pocketed it. He wasn't too keen on showcasing his talent just yet. The Patronus charm had been giving him particular trouble. Maybe they could start somewhere with a bit lower stakes. “You say you need help understanding dreams?”

With a half-turn in his direction, James took his wand from his mouth. “Er, yeah. Guess I do.” He chuckled, “Funny, I’m only just realizing that I can't talk about it with anyone else.”

That sounded unlikely considering his wealth of friends, but Regulus kept his doubt to himself. It sounded like he was about to get a very deep look into James Potter’s life, and he wasn't about to interrupt him. How many times had he wondered what could possibly be going on inside his head? Meeting the Potters was revealing in itself, but

dreams

? You couldn’t take two steps without stumbling across a confession from the subconscious. He’d read at least

three

books on the subject.

“I’ll tell you one. But part of the deal is total and complete confidentiality, alright?”

“As if I have anyone to tell.”

“Regardless.” James waved it away. “Here, let's sit.” He strode over to a nearby garden set of table and chairs, lovingly befriended by vines of english ivy and a potted petunia or two. Lavender sweetened the air. “You swear? I don't want to hold it over you, but it doesn't exactly seem like you want anyone knowing about this either.”

“Complete confidentiality.”

“Alright. Well.. I was sitting on the sofa. Listening to mum read. I didn't think I was asleep, but all of a sudden I was, and they were gone. " He glanced over to Regulus, who nodded and motioned for him to go on. "It's a bit fuzzy from there. But I do remember a cat, and a Bludger. And the cat was leading me to the Bludger."

"What color was the cat?"

James frowned and shook his head. "I don't remember."

"Did it do anything other than lead you to danger—?"

"But it

wasn't

leading me to danger." He seemed to jump to its defense. "It was warning me about the Quidditch match. Remember?"

Regulus felt himself stop breathing for a moment. The way he said '

remember'

made him think he knew something. Did he know? He would have mentioned it by now, wouldn't he? "You mean the Bludger in your game against Ravenclaw? Yes, I heard about that." He bluffed. He had nothing to do with the dream, or even the Bludger hitting him in the first place, but it was better to imply he simply wasn't there.

"That dream was just last Easter. Don't you think it was a prediction?"

That gave Regulus some pause. "I see what you mean."

"Well?"

"'Well' what?"

"What do you think?"

"Well.. a cat in your home could mean a number of things. It might mean an upcoming twist of good luck, or that you're feeling insecure about your close friends." Sometimes when he spoke about his studies, Regulus almost felt like he knew what he was talking about. "I can't offer you much more than that.

"Huh."

"..I would say it was an omen if you weren't so adamant about the innocence of this cat. Like you said, it was clearly some kind of prediction or vision. That much is clear." And yet James still managed to land himself in the hospital wing. If it weren't for Regulus stepping in the moment he saw him begin plummeting to the ground, it might've been even worse than that. He was just grateful no one noticed him tucking his wand away after slowing his descent. Still, Regulus felt he'd fallen a little short of expectation. Somehow he found himself apologizing. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"No, you gave me plenty. 'Guess I just wish Divination didn't spit what you already know right back at you." He sighed, chewing his cheek in thought as he looked at the ground. As if the cat were sitting right there in that moment.

Regulus had a feeling that there was a lot more to all of this than he was letting on. One Bludger couldn't shake him up so thoroughly, could it? "If I had more to interpret, I'd have a clearer view."

James looked unsure. "You're fifteen, right?"

At first, the question came out of nowhere. "Yes…?"

That seemed to quell some unknown worry in him. "And you really won't tell anyone? I'm holding you to this."

"I promise."

He spread his hands out on the table between them in preparation. For what, Regulus wasn't sure. "How much do you know about destiny?"

Destiny.. his age.. things were starting to come together. "I know it's about as temperamental as its cousin." If anything, Divination was

easier

to understand.

"What about soulmates?"

Despite the fact that he'd been expecting it, he flushed. Soulmatches were not just uncommon, but unmentionable. Marriage was for status and lineage, not frivolous things like love and fate. Yet.. Regulus couldn't even

count

the books he'd read on that one. Maybe he needed to get out more, but it seemed like all that time spent might've finally come in handy. "More than I like to admit." He relinquished.

"That's what I was hoping you'd say." Again, the praise in James' eyes made his thoughts fumble. "This definitely has something to do with that. I know it."

"So this cat is a recurring character in your dreams, then. And, I'm assuming, its' mark is—" Regulus willed himself to continue such an improper sentence for the sake of saving face, but couldn't manage more than a clearing of his throat.

"Yes."

"And you want me to help you figure out who it is?" This arrangement was getting far more involved than he'd expected it to.

James bobbed his head in admittance. "Looks like I am." Even he seemed surprised to find himself in such a position.

There was only a brief moment of suspense as Regulus considered his answer. Truthfully, he was already trying to decide whether to keep a diary on this or not. "I'll agree to help you. But I have conditions."

"Okay…" James propped his feet up and crossed his arms. "Let's hear 'em."

"The first, we already agree on. Complete confidentiality. Nothing we say or do leaves these sessions."

"'Course."

"Second, we don't stray from the matter at hand. We discuss our studies. Delving into each other's private lives is an unnecessary distraction." This was more for his own protection; Regulus didn't want to stumble across any more awkward conversations about politics, for one.

"Boring, but I can agree to that."

"Third, only constructive criticism. Anything else is counterproductive."

James nodded. "I like that. Anything else?"

"No. Do you have anything to add?"

"Rule number four; relax. I refuse to let these visits be anything but fun— something else you could use a lesson or two in."

"Your job is to teach me the Patronus charm."

"We'll add to it along the way."

"So that's that? We've ironed everything out?"

"Just one more question. Are you staying for dinner?"

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

That night, Regulus lay awake in bed just as he always did. Only this time, he didn't have a book in his hands. He was thinking.    They'd spent the rest of that afternoon talking. Once he let James start, he didn't seem to be able to stop. A cat. A Bludger. A forest. A pool. Not one of these details could be found in any book, yet in an odd way, he felt he'd heard it all before. Like an old fable he hadn't been told in a long time.    He turned over, rubbing where the collar of that black jumper had hugged his neck. As apprehensive he'd been about wearing it, he almost hated to hand it over. There was a snug warmth to the wool he found himself missing.    Regulus lay on his back again. Was he just a replacement for Sirius? James did say he'd be away, was he just bored? But if he was just a last resort, why tell him all of this? He supposed James could've made it all up. Though, that didn't sound right as he thought it. He'd seemed so sincere. Even in the middle of insulting his croquet skills he was letting him win. That shouldn't have surprised him, as silly as it was. He wasn't special — James was just impulsive. Still, he doubted he'd have done the same were he paired with anyone else.     A memory of that cheeky grin and wink flashed across his mind. His pulse quickened.    If Lily Evans wasn't his soulmate, then who was? Everyone had seen that scene in the Great Hall. The first thought that came to mind was his brother. They fit each other perfectly. But if that were the case, Sirius would've told him by now. Same with the others, so they could be marked off the list. Of course, there was the possibility that it was someone on the other side of the planet. He'd just have to rule out the closest suspects first.    Regulus shut his eyes. Why was he spending so much time thinking about this? Why did he care? If he was just in it to develop his Defense Against the Dark Arts skills, then why hadn't he even raised his wand once during the whole visit?    Because he'd been having fun.    There was no denying it, he'd been enjoying himself. He'd been telling the truth when he said James was the first interesting thing to happen at the Sacred 28 in ages.    He ran his hands down his face and tried to get some sleep.             “James.” It wasn’t said as a question, but as a statement of annoyance. “What are you doing here?”     He smirked, boyish charm going to work with ease on the cold walls around Regulus’ heart, and took a step closer. “Visiting you, obviously.”    His heart flip flopped like the Flobberworms they were studying in class. James Potter, sneaking into the Slytherin commons—  to see him?    Regulus took a step back, half reminding himself as he said: “You should leave, before anyone else sees you.”    James only took twice as many steps closer, smiling at the reaction he provoked in him with their minimal distance. “Should I?”    “Yes, you… you should…” It was difficult to keep his voice steady with those eyes trained on him so… and with such an impish grin on his lips. He felt like he was supposed to be wary… but instead felt an odd tingling intrigue flare up in the pit of his stomach.    Regulus woke up with his heart beating a mile a minute and his sheets in need of washing. He slapped a hand to his forehead.    This was bad.       Over the years, he hadn't really thought about boys that much. Or girls, for that matter. Regulus heard courtship talked about— heard the idea of romance tossed about in class and saw it illustrated in books. But he'd always felt like he wasn't part of all that. He didn't know what it was like to memorize a girl's perfume or doodle a boy's last name in his notes. Nor did he know what it was like to fantasize about marriage. That part seemed more like an obligation than a dream. The closest he'd come was obsessing over a character from a novel. No, love was something he avoided at all costs. From what he knew, it was only something that got you hurt.    "Your food isn't there to amuse you, it is there to be eaten. Quit playing with it." Mother's voice interrupted Regulus' racing thoughts.    "Yes, Mother." He stopped pushing his food around his plate and took a bite.    She chewed at him scrutinously. "You know how I despise listlessness, Regulus. Sit up straight, you aren't a poet contemplating Consumption in a cafe."    He straightened. "Yes Mother."    "Have you prepared your studies for the day?" She waved a hand to incline a floating teapot to pour her another cup. It did so with practiced form.    Oh no. Where was his mind today? "..No, Mother." Regulus braced himself. An excuse would only make things worse. He highly doubted Euphemia Potter demanded homework from her son like this.    "And you saw fit to come downstairs unprepared? Did you even brush your hair this morning?" Her voice began to grow shrill. "I can't believe your forgetfulness, go make yourself presentable at once! Not another bite until you do!"    "Yes, Mother." Regulus could hear her muttering to herself as he folded his napkin and pushed in his chair.   He was still lost in thought as he made his way back upstairs.    That dream, as brief as it was, had shaken him. There was no misconstruing what his subconscious was telling him with that one, and James Potter was the last person he should've been thinking about in such a way. He was the enemy. A blazing ball of fire hurtling toward leading the muggle sympathizers to victory.    Regulus tried to brush away his worry. One dream didn't mean anything. He still couldn't stand James' self assured saunter, or the way he ruffled his hair whenever given the opportunity. Just because he was disarmed by his confidence didn't mean he was in danger of anything more . That was just the effect he had on everyone once they got within reach. The next time he saw him, that would be clear. The dazzle would wear off, surely.    He put his brush down. His hair was getting rather long now, especially seeing as Mother didn't let him trim it like Sirius did. At least they could be better told apart that way. With a sigh, Regulus figured she'd be getting impatient. He still hadn't come up with a good excuse for the next excursion to the Potters'. Mother wasn't inclined to let him out of the house for much.    He sat back in his chair to think. It was never a good idea to go up against her without a solid plan in place.    Using his cousins as an excuse was out of the question, and so was Lucius— any one of them would snatch up the opportunity to squeeze secrets out of him at the drop of a hat. He couldn't exactly use school as an excuse, it was the summer holiday. But Mother did want him to focus on his studies… maybe he could start there.     Reluctantly, Regulus stood and turned back. As he retraced his steps down the stairs, he went over and revised his words carefully. He couldn't chance tripping over any of them.    Mother didn't deem him worthy of a look as he re-entered the room. Fork and knife scraped against fine china for minutes. Probably punishing him for taking so long. His hands didn't leave his lap once. Finally, she gave a small nod. "You may eat."    Regulus quickly picked up his silverware and ate. He didn't want to give her any more reason to be cross if he was going to ask what he was going to ask.    Finally, after she'd finished and Walburga read her pamphlets and letters, he gathered his courage. "Mother?" It was a shaky start.    Her quill stopped. Only her eyes moved. "What is it?"    "I was working on my curriculum for these next few weeks, and found myself lacking in many of the supplies needed for my Potions studies."    She didn't speak. This meant he was to continue.    "May I go to Diagon Alley for such a task? Kreacher doesn't need to bother with such trivial matters-"    "That is exactly what servants are for, Regulus. Trivial matters."    "Yes, Mother." He should have left it there. But he didn't. "But wouldn't gathering them myself offer a greater knowledge of the subject?"    "Are you talking back to me, Regulus?"    "No, Mother.." He said, somewhat crestfallen.    She exhaled through her nose. "Don't sulk."    He stayed quiet.    She stared at him imperiously, then. Measured him, in some way.     He tried not to show anything in his expression. Better that than seem defiant.    "Hm...You may go."    It was impossible not to look up from his plate in shock.    "But I'm sending a list along with you, I don't want you wasting time buying sweets or gawking at windows. You might as well make yourself useful."    It was small, but still a victory. "Thank you, Mother." The list would be long, and the items difficult to find, but he could escape, even if only for a moment. He really did need a few things for Potions, though he hadn't planned on James Potter shopping for them alongside him.    "Finish your meal. You have scales to do."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Again."    Bow met strings for the upteenth time, and the rich bellow of Regulus' cello reverberated through the silence that held Grimmauld Place together. Sometimes when he played it felt as if the building might come crumbling down around him, simply out of spite. Music was far too spiritual a contrast for such a wasteland.    He'd gone over his scales three times already, and moved on to a piece by Bach. Regulus already knew all six suites by heart, but Walburga was insistent as ever that he go through each at least once a day. Mistakes were no longer the cut off mark; if he didn't play perfectly, and with emotion, he had to start from the top. That wasn't to say he hated playing, or even that he didn't like practicing. What he hated was the boredom and monotony drilled into him through it. He hadn't been given new sheet music in over a year— and anything he found of substance outside of that had to undergo approval. Approval he scarcely found. Pachelbel's Canon was a particularly demented carousel ride, each slow turn more unfeeling than the last as he was forced back on to try again. His hands screamed to play something else, to go through an unfamiliar flow of notes and pauses, but alas. One had to make do with what one was given.    The deep tones of the composition came to an end, and Regulus opened his eyes.    "..Again." Mother demanded, just as unmoved by the last twenty minutes of his playing as she had been the hour before.    He didn't protest, or even hesitate. Regulus simply picked his bow back up and began again. Even as his fingers began to cramp and his back began to tire, he played beautifully. But if he'd ever managed to impress his mother, she'd never shown it.    Bella's divine harp had earned satisfied applause many times, just as the skilled plucking of Cissa's mandolin did last Yule. And when Sirius still cared to try, he had the power to move any listening heart. Regulus could only play well enough to accompany him a few times before he refused to play altogether, but it was as close to seeing Mother genuinely pleased that he could remember. Violin was always her favorite.    "Your arms are trembling, Regulus. Your form is suffering. Do you need my help again?'      He halted abruptly. Though her words were deceptively attentive, they only brought to mind the chilling flick of her wand as she'd forced him into proper shape the last time he fell short of expectation.    "No, Mother."    "Start again. With vigor."    In as quiet and orderly a manner as he could manage, he untangled his hair from the tuning pegs, and tossed it over his shoulder in preparation for at least another hour's worth of practice. Practice that felt redundant at best.    "Make haste, now. I've better things to do than watch you preen." 
    Regulus hesitantly stretched his aching phalanges. No matter how thick his calluses or how nimble his movements, his fingers always pained him terribly over the holidays. Catching up for lost practice did that, he supposed.     Kreacher was beginning to prepare dinner downstairs while he dutifully scribbled out coursework in his room. Time alone was a comfort when Mother's disapproving glare was his only alternative. Pleasing her with his obedience would just make the next day's adventure all the more exhilarating. Sneaking out? He'd never done such a thing— aside from the day before. James Potter was expected to be a bad influence, but he found he didn't particularly mind when it came to escaping Grimmauld Place. Lies and deceit were commonplace in his family, so why shouldn't he stretch his legs for once? He'd been the perfect son for fifteen years now, and he hardly had anything to show for it. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures. If he was going to continue being the perfect heir, he'd need some extra help.    He stopped for another break. Latin spun around his head in dizzying circles. At least the sun still brightened up the room a bit. Studying by candlelight was an instant recipe for a migraine.    Regulus glanced back toward the door. Mother didn't usually check on him in the evenings. Maybe it was safe.    He pulled a new piece of parchment out and dipped his quill in ink again. As much as his hands hurt, he put it to paper with meticulous movements.     " To whom it may concern,"      …No. At first, that seemed best for secrecy. But then he imagined the snicker it would invite when read aloud. No, something else. He crumpled it up and tried to think of a better introduction.     " Dear James,"       Heavens , no— James wasn't his dear, and that only made it sound like they'd been writing for months. No, no, far too familiar. He tore it in two and tossed it in the bin.     " James,"      Yes, that was better. Not too formal, not too friendly. Just his name. That couldn't be read into at all, could it?     " Due to unforeseen circumstances, my only option is to -"     He scratched that out. This was going to take a few rough drafts. Regulus put his head down and got busy.     Finally, after crossing out and circling and re-writing, he thought he had it. A perfect middle ground between a casual note and a secret message.     “ James,
        Change of plans. Meet me at Madam Malkin’s at noon. Don’t be late, as Mother expects me back.

Regulus Arcturus Black”
     The message was terribly brief, but after shaving off all of his flowery language, it was all Regulus had left. Better to get straight to the point. The less he said, the less there was to criticize. With a decisive nod, he reached for his wax seal. A soft rap at his door made him jump and hurriedly cover the letter with an open book. But in the next moment, he almost scoffed; no one knocked before entering but Kreacher.    “Come in.”    The door whined open, and a gnarled face shuffled into view. “Dinner is most humbly served, Master Black…”    “Yes, thank you Kreacher. I’ll be right down.”    He bowed his head, enormous ears flopping as he did, and was about to leave— when Regulus realized he wasn’t finished.    “Oh, just a moment— I have a favor to ask you, Kreacher.”    “Anything you wish is Kreacher's command, Master Black.”    “I have a very important letter I need you to deliver at once, but it requires utmost secrecy. Even from Mother.” He found that often, now that Regulus was the remaining heir of the household, Kreacher’s interpretation of where his loyalties were expected to lie had shifted somewhat. Mother was his world, but she was also cruel and calculating. The only reason he’d survived longer than the string of house elves whose heads lined their staircase was because he’d learned to navigate Walburga’s complicated web. And sometimes, that meant keeping the odd secret or two for the remaining heir. If he caught him in the right mood.    “Kreacher will have it done before you’ve finished your meal, Master Black, Kreacher assures you.”    “Well I won’t be timing you, but I appreciate the consideration.” He quickly folded up the parchment, slipped it into an envelope, and sealed it with the House of Black crest. He didn’t have any others.     “Here. Take it to the Potters, and wait for a response. Mother won’t ask for you in the meantime, I’ll be sure of it.”    “As master wishes.” Without another word, Kreacher snapped his fingers, and was gone.

Again, the meal was spent listening to the grating symphony of forks and knives scraping plates. Mother ate silently, but her attention was drawn to even the smallest disturbance. Despite this, Regulus fought the urge to say something. Trying to distract her would only draw more attention to the fact that he might be hiding a secret. So, he kept quiet, and willed James to send his reply with the speed of Hermes himself. Astoundingly, there was no need.    Kreacher came through the doorway behind Walburga, offering her a second helping. He was back already? They were hardly halfway through their meal. Had he simply pretended to deliver it? Did James reject his letter? All throughout the rest of the meal, he could hardly contain his apprehension. Finally, Mother excused him from the table and he could confront Kreacher properly.

“Here you are, Master Black.” A slightly crumpled envelope was presented, warm yellow seal shining up at him.    Regulus realized he was supposed to take it, and did so at once. “Thank you, Kreacher.”    Not once to mince words, Kreacher snapped away without saying any more.    Despite the fact that he’d been left alone, Regulus hesitated to open it yet. If Mother came in in the middle of him reading a letter, she’d demand to see it immediately. He tucked it under his mattress next to his contraband muggle romance novels, and began dressing for bed. Mother would bid him goodnight, and he could read under the safety of his blankets.      “Dear Regulus,
        I can’t believe you wrote! Boy was I shocked to see this wrinkly old bugger standing in the middle of my living room. Nearly thought we had a boggart infestation. Anyway, change of plans is okay. I’ll be there, and I’ll try not to be late. Mum needs some things too. She says she’ll pack lunch, but I figure you’ve got more refined taste, so I’m buying, but only if you order ice cream because otherwise it’s not even worth the trouble. Bring a bag too I’ve got some books I wrote notes in I want you to go over, you understand constellations and correlations better than I do. Same with palmistry, I’m going to need your advice on a couple lines on my left hand, mum said they might have something to do with romance but she couldn’t find her glasses.

Sincerely,

James 
      P.S.: Is Kreacher our go-between now?”      Regulus pored over every messily written word. Not only had he written back immediately, but he’d been thinking about him. Thinking about what he’d say about books, what he wanted to eat, what he knew about the lines of his palms. All those moments he’d been kicking himself for thinking about James, he might’ve been doing the exact same.    He tried not to crumple the parchment as he put out his wand and brought his knees to his chest under the blanket. Regulus was practically giddy, and it brought a hot shame to his cheeks. He was supposed to be helping him find his soulmate. Not even that— he was supposed to be using him for his own gain and then betraying his secrets to the Dark Lord the moment he got the chance!    …That certainly seemed far away now that they had plans to eat ice cream sundaes together. Maybe he was exaggerating, but that was certainly what it felt like. Were they even friends?    “Good grief…” He threw himself onto his back with a loud sigh that blew the blanket up from his face. It was all Regulus could do to keep from simply yelling out in frustration. He just liked him because he was nice to him. He was just lonely. He was bored. He…    He wanted to run away with him and never come home.    In a sudden fit of exasperation with himself, he threw the covers off, grabbed the letter, crumpled it into a clumsy wad, and threw it at the wall. It bounced off and rolled under a chair. He sat looking at it. Really, he should have burned it. Gotten rid of the evidence. Anyone found that letter, and both he and Kreacher were in for a reckoning to end all reckonings. It was dangerous to keep that kind of betrayal around.    Regulus got up and began searching under the armchair with one arm. When he finally found the balled up parchment, he stood and carefully unfolded it. He smoothed it out with gentle hands, and tucked it back into its envelope. It returned to its hiding place next to Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters.    Maybe sleep would save him from himself.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The next day was full of promise; this time, there was no dream, there was no forgetfulness, and most importantly, Mother hadn't changed her mind about letting him go to Diagon Alley. He had to restart three times during his practice that morning because he was playing too quickly, but he couldn't help it— their meeting couldn't come a moment too soon.

Regulus tried not to be obvious about looking through the crowd around him for a familiarly messy head of black hair. There was just a minute left until the hour hand struck twelve, and James was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey!"

When he heard his voice behind him, Regulus nearly jumped out of his skin. Where on earth had he come from? He'd been standing right in front of Madam Malkin's the whole time, it would've been impossible to miss him.

"Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you. Managed to struggle out from under mum's thumb, eh?"

"Where did you come from?"

"What do you mean? I just got here.”

"Nevermind." He didn't want to start bickering over something silly again. "I'm glad you made it."

"I'm glad

you

made it! Thought you were going to cancel everything when you didn't reply to my letter." He hefted the bag on his shoulder and snorted, "I was looking over my shoulder expecting Kreacher to jump out of a corner all night."

Regulus glanced to the side in an anxious effort to see if anyone was watching. He didn't see anyone he recognized. "Yes, I didn't have the chance to write a proper response."

"Well it's a good thing I came anyway. C'mon, let's find someplace to sit down, I'm starving."

James led the way to Fortescue's without another word.

“So, what’s first on the agenda now we’ve got some food in front of us?” James had been adamant about not discussing anything more until they did. It didn't hurt to find somewhere a little more secluded to talk, either.

Regulus glanced back down to the large sundae he'd ordered for him a little cluelessly. He felt perfectly silly sitting down for brunch with Sirius' best friend. “You said you had some books for me?"

"That's right-" He pointed to him emphatically, before leaning down to heft his bag into his lap. Three volumes of varying thickness were pushed onto the table. "I wanted you to go through these for me. My notes and chart are in there, but I'm absolutely hopeless at reading it. Just like my bloody palms."

Regulus peered over the books as disdainfully as he could, though he immediately recognized the top one as he tucked them into his bag. When he looked back up, James had already rolled up his sleeves and thrust his hand onto the table in their place.

"Bad news first."

"That's.. not exactly how this works."

He gave another half shrug, palm still open in expectation, "You're the expert."

He decided against arguing about his level of expertise, and pushed his ice cream aside to examine James Potter's palms. It took some effort to look nonchalant as he took his hand, but he managed. "Is this your dominant hand?"

"Both of my hands are dominant."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't look up. "You're ambidextrous?"

He heard James snort softly. "No, it's a joke, mate-"

Regulus' gaze jerked up in confusion. What kind of—

… oh

. He could already feel his face begin to warm in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration; who else could have missed that? And did he have to be so

vulgar

? "Please, can you focus?" He gave a bit of a sigh and looked back down to avoid the laughter in those hazel eyes. "Which one do you write with?"

"This one." James waved the one that wasn’t in Regulus' hands.

“Thank you.” Regulus sighed, and willed himself to spread his thumbs across the surprisingly rough surface of the other boy’s palm. At least he did him the courtesy of sitting still long enough for that.

There were a few moments of pensive silence as he tried to recall everything he’d ever read about Chiromancy and apply it to the lines he was peering down at in the middle of Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor.

“Tell me I’ll at least make it to next Tuesday-?”

Regulus looked back up to James quite suddenly as he realized he’d been making a face in his concentration. He let out a scoffed breath and nodded. “You’ll make it at least that, considering the nature of your lifeline.” He gently traced the lines angling from his wrist toward his index finger to explain, “You actually have a few, and they’re all rather bold and straight. You’ll live longer than I will, judging by these.”

James looked surprised to find that so much information could be learned from looking at a hand he’d already known for sixteen years. Though, the luxury of a long life seemed lost on him for the moment. “So, anything about..

y'know

…?" He angled his head to suggest the obvious instead of saying it out loud. Apparently even he had some secrets he didn't want overheard.

"Well.." Regulus followed his love and marriage lines, "I can't tell you anything specific." But a small smirk began to spread across his lips at what he did find, despite the intimate subject matter. Even as his pulse quickened to say it, Regulus couldn't help his amusement. "You're quick to fall in love— but you also think more highly of yourself than your intended."

James frowned a little. "Anything else you want to get off your chest?"

His smile fell, lips thinning in a returned look of impatience. "I'm just telling you what I see."

"Mhm."

Regulus sighed, and glanced back down again. "All that's left is your marriage line, and that only suggests that your spouse is wealthy, or friendly. Or both. The rest is more about you."

"Well…" James took his hand back to pluck the cherry from his sundae and pop it in his mouth. He seemed disappointed as he chewed. "I suppose it's something. Thanks anyway."

A bit unsure of which way to go next, Regulus put his hands in his lap. Why did he want so badly to be able to tell him more? He pushed away the feeling by clearing his throat. "If I manage to scry anything more from your chart, I'll send Kreacher. But palm reading is a rather vague place to start."

"Don't need to tell me twice." He exhaled and spooned iced cream into his mouth. "I'm bored of this already anyway. Why don't we talk about you instead?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, didn't you need help with your Patronus charm?"

"Oh, yes.. I did." Regulus shifted. He did need help— in fact, he could hardly cast a non corporeal Patronus charm on his best days. But admitting that after the way he'd boasted over croquet was like chewing gravel. He was a year ahead in most of his other studies, why couldn't he figure this out on his own?

"...I'll need a bit more than that to help you any. How far have you gotten?"

"..maybe a few wisps from every other cast." Regulus admitted quietly. "The only luck I've had has been at Hogwarts."

"That makes proper sense, knowing the dungeon you call home." James said it offhandedly, but it struck a much more serious chord in Regulus.

He scoffed to hide the way it hurt his pride. "Excuse me?"

"Everyone knows you've got to focus on a happy memory to cast a Patronus, and Grimmauld Place is as unhappy as it gets."

Regulus wasn't quite sure how to react yet, because he wasn't even sure how to feel. James was right, about all of it. But who did he think he was, speaking so candidly about their family? "How dare you—"

"What's your happy memory, then?" James cut him off with a challenging smirk. "It's about time

you

shared some secrets with

me

."

"I… its—" Regulus stuttered in his bewilderment. "I really don't think you need to know that."

"How else am I supposed to help you? I let you read my palms, didn't I?"

"I believe you

asked

me to read your palms. And your star chart." He countered.

"So you can be sure I won't tell a soul." James flashed that amused smile again. "Come on."

There was a moment's hesitation, even despite the insult, but the very fact that he almost gave in made Regulus double his efforts. "...No. Absolutely not." Potter had already taken the lead with just about everything so far, and he wasn't about to foolishly go on letting him. They weren't friends, and he wasn't another follower.

"And why's that?"

"Because… because I haven't got time, that's why." He began to stand, altogether startled by such a personal question. "Not with the list Mother's given me."

"Then we'll make time." James matched him in his movements, hefting his own bag just the same as he spoke. "If we divide and conquer, it'll take half as long."

Regulus, though frowning, considered this for a moment. He did have quite a bit to get done in very little time, enough that he might not even get it all gathered before he was expected back anyway. And, if they did split up, there was less of a chance they'd be seen together. What could it hurt to let James help? "Fine." He pulled the piece of parchment from his breast pocket and held it out between two fingers. "You write down the first five. I'll do the rest." He didn't want to entrust James with any of Mother's requests, so he'd just have him get his Potions supplies. "Meet me back here within the hour."

After scribbling his portion of the list onto a bit of parchment of his own, James nodded and handed the original back over. "And then you'll tell me your memory."

Regulus frowned at him over the list as he took it back. "If there's time."

"I'll be sure of it." He grinned. "Trust me."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Two, please." Regulus exchanged his coins for the Bottomless Inkpots Mother asked for and nodded to the shopkeeper politely. "Thank you." That was everything— she'd given him just enough for the purchases on her list, down to the knut. Only now did he realize he hadn't given James anything to pay for his half, and a bolt of anxiety shot through his chest. Did that mean he hadn't bought any of it, and Regulus would be going home empty handed? If he didn't return with some kind of alibi, that would certainly be the end of things. Not just these little escapes and exchanged barbs with James Potter— it'd be the end of him ever leaving Grimmauld Place unchaperoned again.     Regulus chewed his bottom lip in a betrayal of his nerves as he exited the shop, holding onto the hope that maybe all he'd have to do is pay him back. Thinking positively had never been his strong suit.     "Over here…!" Came a loud whisper from the back of Fortescue's— James was waving to him from the table they'd shared earlier. Regulus hurried over as soon as he saw him. He must have noticed the way he raised his eyebrows at the number of bags at his feet as he did. "Oh, I had some extra time and couldn't help a quick peek at the flying goggles. And gloves. And knee pads…" He chuckled. "Guess I got a little carried away. Anyway, here—" He handed him a parcel from one of the smaller bags. "Everything should be there."    He was still taking his seat when James handed him the parcel, though he'd managed to keep most of the shock from his face. Without another word, he was already pulling his allowance out of his pocket.    "Ah ah ah, put your hand back down."    Regulus froze.    "I'm buying. There's a couple sweets in there for you too. Mum's orders." James was smiling at him again, in that irritatingly charming manner. It almost erased the conflict beginning to bubble in the pit of his stomach. Secret meetings and arguing over Chiromancy were one thing, but owing him? Accepting a gift ? That was too much.    "I really must insist—"    "I won't take it. You've already helped me enough. Just consider this payment for the risk involved with this whole.." James waved his hand, "..arrangement." His chuckle almost sounded sheepish.     "Hm." Regulus couldn't help the suspicion creeping up his back. What reason would he have to be so charitable, and to a potential Death Eater, no less? Did he slip something incriminating in there as some kind of cruel joke? "I'm not indebted to you, if that's what you think." He said hesitantly.    "Actually, you are."    He frowned.    "Your happy memory, remember?" James tapped his wrist, "The clock is ticking, Reggie."    " Don't —"    "Yeah, yeah, 'don't call me Reggie', I know. Go on and tell me and I'll promise not to forget."    It was infuriating to feel a smile coming on. "...A deal is a deal, I suppose." And, his word had to be worth something. "Very well. I'll tell you." He sighed, smoothed down the front of his shirt, and prepared himself to open up to the last person he'd ever have expected to. Other than Sirius, of course. In Regulus' mind, the two were tied for most likely to laugh in his face. It was only James' unpredictability that kept him from first. "Just remember our third rule, or the deal is off altogether."    "Cross my heart." And James did just that.     There were a number of moments from Regulus' past that he tried to recall whenever he attempted the Patronus charm, as unsuccessful as it'd proven so far. He was just never quite sure which one might work best. None of them seemed quite right.    He was five years old when he caught chicken pox and Mother locked him away for fear of infection— and he hated it. He hated the darkness, he hated the itch and the ache, but most of all, he hated being alone. The solitude… It was dreadful. Every shadow loomed over the room like another omen of death in his young eyes, stories of plagues and ghosts and vampires prodding at him from the silent, unseen corners of his room. Each time the door would open, he remembered looking over with all the energy his little body had, just hoping someone would keep him company in his feverish loneliness. But he only ever saw Kreacher. Kreacher, who brought him stew and healing draughts on a platter, then bid him an obedient, but not unkind goodbye. And at first, that was the only comfort he had to hold onto. Until the muffled sounds of an argument outside his door broke the silence.    “Sirius Black! Don’t you dare touch that handle!”    He was only able to catch snippets, but the sound of Mother's voice was as familiar to him then as it was now.    The conversation subsided, and silence fell again. Some time later, Kreacher entered to bring him his meal. This time, he brought a note. Nothing more than a folded up slip of paper, but something he still kept in the small tin of memories under the floorboards; 
Hi Reggie. it is Sirius. I asked mother to play with you. She said no. I was so angry! I am sorry your sick. 
     Regulus had stared at the drawing on the back with wide, awe-filled eyes as the house elf read the poorly written message out loud. It was two stick figures, one smaller than the other, holding hands against a black square-ish backdrop. A round circle of a sun hung in the corner.     He must've been seven or so when he was officially introduced to society for the first time since infancy. "Don't forget to come back for tea, Mother wants to show you off to her friends. Not a hair out of place, you understand me, Sirius?"    They'd been excused to socialize with the other children for the time being, and Sirius, being the bravest, strongest, cleverest person he knew, was his anchor. Regulus hadn't yet realized that Sirius didn't know everything— particularly when it came to what was expected of them— and so, still clung to his brother like moss to a tree. He'd always been quiet, but in the absence of Mother's rigidity to guide him, he practically cowered. Rightfully so, too, the way their cousin Bella always swooped in like a deceptively pretty buzzard.    "So the little invalid finally gets his day in the sun..." She sneered. "And what lovely locks of hair— you wouldn’t mind if I took some, would you, Regulus~?"    When teatime came round, Mother's horrified shriek could be heard all the way from the grounds outside. Regulus stood with tear stained cheeks and half his hair quite neatly shorn to ear length— while Sirius bore his own battle scars with unapologetic silence. In the scuffle that followed Bellatrix's mean joke, she'd raked her nails across his face. But even then, as they fled and the others laughed, Sirius held Regulus' hand. Even while they bore the weight of Mother's shame and the world's scorn, he'd held his hand.      It took Regulus all of three weeks to discover his favorite reading spot at Hogwarts. The library was no good— too much noise, too many eyes— but nobody bothered him all the way down in the boathouse. Maybe it was a little dusty and undignified, but better that than the pestering that waited for him in the Slytherin commons.    It was like a different world down by the waterside. Regulus could sit undisturbed and read or study or even just listen to the placid lap of the water to his heart’s content. It might’ve been the first time he’d ever known peace, really; actually found himself feeling grateful for his solitude, instead of cursed by it. He could finally relax his shoulders without the need to keep looking over them.    There was no particular instance from the boathouse that came to mind, but it stood out as a contender just the same. He still went out there to feel better about being alone. He knew that the time that others likely spent talking to their friends or asking for advice, he spent in silent contemplation. But even if he didn’t always have the most comforting things to say to himself, it was home. Or as close to it as he had.     It was a bit further into his first year that Regulus had his first real brewing boon; he’d spent the entire weekend fine-tuning his Wiggenweld potion, and now that time had come for Professor Slughorn’s little ‘tournament’, he was ready. No, he was more than ready— Regulus knew the steps and color sequence by heart , there was nothing that could’ve kept him from that first place title. He’d even arrived to set up a few minutes early, nerves eating at his patience. As the other participants began to do the same, his confidence had begun to waver. He’d already expected Severus Snape to be his biggest competition, but after seeing just how many of the other students were older than him, doubt set in. Nevertheless, he stuck to double, triple-checking his salamander blood and flobberworm supply instead of simply giving up before he’d even begun. All he could do was his best.    “Time, everyone— time!” Just a few minutes after his potion turned green, Professor Slughorn was already coming round to inspect the contents of their cauldrons. Regulus never forgot the pitying smile on his face as he’d approached the table, kind even as he discredited his talent.    He held his breath as the professor leaned over his cauldron. Unlike the others, he lingered a moment. Frowned. Then looked over to the young Slytherin with gleeful surprise.     “By golly, Regulus… you’ve out-brewed the best of us!” He chuckled. “You’ve all done very well, but it seems we have a new future potions master in our midst! Fifty points to Slytherin!”     He’d hardly been able to contain himself, all squirms and smiles. Regulus felt like he was finally making a name for himself, while also earning the one he’d been tasked with carrying on. Or at least, beginning to. Having something worthwhile to write home about certainly filled him with a kind of pride.     Polite applause scattered throughout the classroom as Slughorn returned to his desk. A small plaque waited for him there. “Why don’t you bring your prize-winning work over here, and we’ll bottle a bit to remember the occasion.”    “Yes, Professor—” Regulus did as he was told, same as ever. Only, he forgot to watch his step in his eagerness.    Severus Snape’s foot just so happened to be right in his way. Curious, how far he’d managed to stray from his own cauldron… But even after tripping and spilling every drop, Regulus still looked back on it as a victory. He’d only had so many.

In his most recent recollection, he was thirteen. Even that seemed like ages ago, now.     "Lumos…" He whispered. It was unlikely anyone in the house would hear him, but Regulus kept his voice down just to be sure.    He sat with his blankets pulled over his head, hunched over an open book. He'd only found it a few days before, but already found himself roaring to the end like wildfire. It didn't seem like much when he first picked it up off the dusty floor of that broom closet— a muggle novel, by the look of the cover, likely dropped by another pupil late to Potions— but just a chapter in and he couldn't put it down. Why else would he chance Mother finding it on him by bringing it home? He'd found a forbidden treasure that he couldn't resist.     Regulus turned another page, eyes racing through each line. The beautiful maiden, thinking all was lost, had given up hope— and he was just dying to find out if her farm boy would manage to rescue her from the evil prince in time. He'd nearly fallen into the same despair when he thought the dashing hero succumbed to the prince's torture attempt. Now that he knew there might be a chance of another tender reunion and revenge, he had to see it to the end.    As he turned the next few pages, the story unfolded. The plan to infiltrate the castle worked, and the group split up. An idiotic decision, really, when you considered—    It was without warning that a hand tore the covers off of Regulus and brought him into candlelight. He hadn’t even had time to do more than look up to see Sirius reaching for the book in his hands. "A ha— "    He snapped it shut and hid it from sight, though he knew that still wouldn't keep his brother from wrestling it out of his grip. "Sirius, get out , before Mother hears…!"    "Underage magic and hiding from mum? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" This time, he did manage to snatch the paperback from him, snicker beginning to die out as he looked at the cover. “What the…”    “Give it back.”      “What are you doing with this??” Sirius held the book up with the hand that wasn’t busy holding Regulus back. He didn’t seem amused, like he had a moment before, but angry. Though that wasn’t altogether unusual by then. He’d always had a temper. “Where did you get this?”    “I- I found it.”    “Bollocks— you stole it!”    “ Stole it? Why would I ever sink as low as stealing a rag like that?”    Mother’s fury was only preceded by the sound of Kreacher snapping into the room. He couldn’t remember there ever being a winner to their quarrels… not ever.    “I…” Regulus swallowed, hands twisting in his lap. Instead of any of those, he went with the memory that made the most sense. “I made Seeker last year. It was between me and three others, I was the youngest.” He wouldn’t meet James’ gaze, because he already knew. He’d known even before he heard how half-hearted the words sounded on his tongue; that wasn’t anywhere near good enough. None of them were. How could they be, when he was such a stunted, uninteresting person in the first place? Regulus waited for the laughter he’d been expecting all along, but it never came.    “You don’t sound very excited.” James was looking at him differently now— like he was trying to solve the last part of a crossword puzzle. “Is that really it?”    He crossed his arms, still unwilling to look him directly in the eye. “Not up to your standard, I take it?”    “No.” James’ frank response forced Regulus to look up, even if it was just to see if he really was insulting him to his face or not. But there was a glint in his eye that said otherwise, and it was beginning to grow all too familiar. “But we’ll work on that.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

As he left Fortescue’s, Regulus still couldn’t shake that odd feeling in his chest. Maybe it was just indigestion, or maybe he’d had too much sugar— but something about the way he’d said “we’ll work on that” felt… reassuring. As stupid as he knew it was, every word out of James’ mouth sounded earnest. It was like he didn’t even have to think before he spoke— and half the time, he probably didn’t…    He felt his lips threaten to twitch into a smile, and immediately began to compile a case against such silliness.     James was late, first of all, even if only by a minute or so. He only talked about himself most of the time, anyway. And, on top of that, he called Number 12 a dungeon. What did that make his simple little cottage— Shangri-la? Regulus came from a perfectly respectable home, thank you very much. At least he wasn’t let out of the house looking like the ragamuffin that James was. He wasn’t any better than Sirius, and Sirius was a lost cause. Mother said so. And, well, she had the final word, really. Sirius was a lost cause, James Potter was no better, and if he knew what was good for him he’d stay far away from both of them.     Yet they'd made arrangements for another meeting even before he'd left.    So perhaps sometimes rules could be… bent. Only when absolutely necessary, of course. Why else would he waste his time with a clown like Potter? He turned the parcel over and over in his hands.    By the time he'd reached the other end of Diagon Alley, Regulus almost succeeded in talking himself out of his infatuation. At least enough not to startle when Kreacher popped into being just beside him, right on time.    “Hello, Kreacher.”    The house elf simply bowed his head before they were snapping back to Grimmauld Place and the familiar sound of Mother calling his name. He handed his book bag off, and hurried into the parlor.    "Coming, Mother!"    “Keep your voice down, you thoughtless thing! You’ll disturb your father.” She seethed as he entered the room. “One might think you were raised in a barn.”    “Yes, Mother.” Regulus kept his chin up, hoping to pretend his way to confidence as he usually did. “I have the list of things you asked for.”    “Items, Regulus. I do not ask for things.”    “Of course.”    “Let me see them.”    He came closer, Kreacher setting the bag down beside her, while Regulus held his own parcel behind his back as nonchalantly as he knew how. Mother kept an eye on his every move as he stepped away again. “There was nothing left after my purchases.”    “Then what is it you think you’re hiding from me?” She asked as she peered into the bag.    Regulus felt dread hang over him like a sudden fever. “My potions supplies, Mother.”     "Bring it here."    His palms began to sweat, but he did as he was told, even if it made his stomach turn.    As soon as he brought the parcel out from behind his back, she’d plucked it from his hands and began to tear away the paper and string without hesitation. What she revealed were indeed his potions materials— but a chocolate frog and sugar quill had found their way into the package as well. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she looked back up at him. "...sweets, Regulus?"    He pursed his lips and swallowed his alarm as he waited for her reaction.    "I don't see how you could have time for sweets when your errands shouldn’t have given you a moment to spare.”    "I…"    "Don't start anything you can't finish, Regulus, much less a sentence."    "I won't, Mother."    "Then continue your perfectly reasonable explanation, you stupid boy."    Regulus shut his eyes briefly and nodded to realize his mistake. It seemed no matter which way he stepped, he always fell short of Mother's expectations. "I didn't think it would do any harm."    "No, you didn't think, did you?" And she cast his sweets into the fire, just as effortlessly as she'd opened the parcel.    His composure broke, then; Regulus let out a soft sound of dismay as he watched them burn.    "I distinctly remember forbidding you from such thick-headed childishness as this." Mother exhaled through her nose in disdain and shook her head. "It's so unlike you Regulus— to be so defiant. I hope you aren't beginning to take after your brother again. I thought you were a smart boy. Thoughtful. My little Thinker." Her voice dropped from its feathery weightlessness to a flat, deadened tone of the deepest disgust. "Don't disobey me again. Do you understand?"      Dear Regulus,
       Hopefully you get this letter, and Kreacher didn't decide to pitch it in a bit of shrubbery the moment he was out of sight. Must not get out enough, the fussy little fart. But I suppose we only have him to thank for the chance to write in the first place, eh?

So, how'd you like the sweets, then? Nothing Patronus inspiring of course, but good enough eating in the meantime! Speaking of, I've already got something planned for next time. My place, a week from today. Don't worry about bringing anything but yourself.

Cheers,

James
  
    James Potter,

Obviously, your letter wasn't rudely discarded, and instead properly delivered. It wouldn't be the first time you've underestimated Kreacher's merits.

I must say I haven't eaten the sugar quill, nor do I have any particular affection for chocolate. All the more reason to reimburse you the next time I see you. No matter how nice the gesture, I simply detest personal loans.

How long of an engagement are you proposing, exactly? And what for? I'm not sure if I can even manage that date. I'll have to let you know.

Sincerely,

Regulus Arcturus Black
 
    Dear Regulus,

That's a shame. But it's too late now anyway! I wouldn't accept a sickle. Wouldn't want to upset mum either, now would you?

It's time you have a go at a proper cast! The longer the visit, the better, but an hour or two will do nicely. Need help coming up with a good cover? I've got plenty of ideas.

James

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

James Potter,

I've got my own ideas, thank you, so you can save yourself the trouble.

As for time, I’ve scarcely got the hour. Your mother and father will be chaperoning, I assume?

Sincerely,

Regulus Arcturus Black

Dear Regulus,

Actually, I thought some time to ourselves might mean better luck in conjuring a Patronus. Mum and dad will still be around and all, but for this you'll need proper focus, none of that rubbish about what you're 'supposed' to do. It's about time I see what you can do on your own, and we'll get along twice as well without fretting over so much. Just relax for once, and I promise we'll have a roaring time. Half past noon. Be there!

James

Regulus sat back in the bathtub as he finished reading James' letter. Only, he didn't scoff or roll his eyes as he'd done before. There was nothing humorous about it.

Yes, it was true he'd been avoiding getting around to any actual wandwork, but there was something else that pressed even more urgently at his nerves: being left alone with James. They hadn't had a meeting yet that didn't somehow include other people— which he may not have noticed, but Regulus certainly did— and truthfully, that made it much easier to hold composure. Without the excuse of keeping up appearances, he wasn't quite sure how to behave.

...Which was ridiculous! James Potter, make him nervous? It ought to be the other way around! Regulus had connections to the most well-respected names in society, he

was

one of those names— his company alone should’ve been enough to unnerve anyone of such low moral and societal standards. How could James know that he wasn’t relaying every word to more sinister ears? Just because he wasn’t seen prowling around the grounds with the other Slytherins didn’t mean he wasn’t a

threat.

The sound of a knock or a footstep outside the door caused Regulus to quickly duck his hand beside the tub and look over with wide eyes, (despite this being his fourth letter already). But that must’ve been all it was, because he didn’t hear anything else, and the door remained firmly shut. He let out a breath through his nose, and relaxed again.

No, it wasn’t Potter that made him nervous— it was Mother. It was Mother and the world that revolved around her as she watched over every thought with those hollow black eyes. Not because he was doing something wrong, but because she wouldn’t understand that he was doing something right. Somehow, Mother could never understand him. No one could, really. No matter how many ways he framed it, or how many words he put his thoughts into, it never quite seemed to work. He still always managed to feel misunderstood. That was why he had to do this without her; the Dark Lord would never take him if he couldn’t learn to make his own decisions.
  
    Potter Cottage looked much smaller from the outside: its brick was green with ivy and moss, and hedges extended around the front yard, which was just as impressive as the back— he could even see the old willow tree leaning out from behind the cottage, though just barely. Regulus turned to point out the unlikely charm of such a common place, but of course, Kreacher had already left him to his business. Well… that wasn’t entirely encouraging.

Through the gate and up the front step he went. Charging in seemed the best approach; better that than discovering doubt along the way. He knocked on the door, and listened with a galloping heart as footsteps approached.

“Regulus!” James exclaimed as the door swung open, “You alright? Come in, come in— we’ve got loads to do!” And shut it behind him again in almost the same movement. Without even giving him a chance to respond, James took Regulus' hand and led him straight toward the back yard.

They were already beneath the trees before he could think to take his hand back and speak for himself. “I’ll thank you

not

to paw at me the next time we meet, if you don’t mind?”

“Yeah, sure.” He was rolling up his sleeves again, though Regulus wasn’t sure why. “No time to waste, in any case.”

“You want me to cast… now?”

“Yes, 'now,' of course now. You haven't got much time, have you?”

“Don’t you think we ought to go over some of the wand articulations and verbal nuances—”

“Oh, take the broomstick from up your arse Regulus, you know all that already.” James crossed his arms and was now looking at him with a knowing grin, as if he hadn’t just said one of the most crass sentences in the English language. “Just show me your best try. Go on, I’ll promise not to laugh. Or cry, either.” He snorted, and gave him some room.

Regulus was still catching his breath, so to speak. One moment he'd been at the front door, and the next he was amongst the ferns and flowers with James, being told to cast a Patronus. His fingers hesitated on the wand in his breast pocket as he gathered himself. The moment he’d been dreading had finally come, tossed into his lap with hardly a warning.

As he took out his wand, Regulus straightened himself, squared his shoulders, and lifted his chin. It was time to be brave. He looked back over to James.

“Not another word from me.” He raised his shoulders in a shrug of surrender and took another step back.

Regulus took a deep breath and shut his eyes, wand held in front of him in preparation.

Home…

He adjusted his grip.

Quidditch…

He began to make small circles in the air with his wand, just as he'd read.

Hogwarts—

"Expecto.. patronum." He opened his eyes and spoke as clearly as he could, every muscle tense in his need to impress. Regrettably, that didn’t make it very easy to focus.

Just as he expected, nothing happened.

There was a moment of silence as Regulus struggled to keep from sighing out loud. He didn’t even want to look over, knowing the look he’d see on that face.

But James didn’t sound smug. “Why don't you have another go? Give yourself a proper shake and get the nerves out?” He was stepping over, still confident in his movements, but also...

Kind.

The laughter in his eyes had taken a backseat, quieted by a nonchalance Regulus was both endlessly grateful for and a little irritated by.

He averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “I’ll just try again.”

“Sure— I won’t rush you this time.”

With another calming breath, Regulus tried to center his thoughts. He pursed his lips and searched for what made him happiest. Truly, this time. He pushed past Mother, past Sirius, and even past the time he managed to enjoy alone. But then, what else was there? It was just him standing there with his empty head and James, patient at the oddest of times. Best not to keep him waiting too long, whether it was just to see him fail or not. "Expecto patronum..!"

They both watched as the end of his wand emitted a single, fluttering spark. It went out before it even reached the ground.

"Hey! That's pretty good, eh? I mean, it was something!"

"It was practically nothing."

James furrowed his brow, "It was

something

."

Regulus finally let out that sigh. How he loathed being patronized. "Go ahead then, show me how it's done."

"What?"

"Well this all began with your swaggering about the place, boasting about casting a Patronus— so let's see it. Cast."

"...How could I forget?" Uncertainty looked different on James; he seemed caught off guard, even as he stretched his arms in that athlete-like manner.

Regulus made way for him to take center stage, wand still in hand just in case he decided to jelly-leg-jinx him on impulse instead. Maybe he didn’t hang around the Slytherin gang, but he'd seen the treatment they got when they crossed James' path, and always figured himself another likely target if he ever got in the way.

He watched as James readied himself, a look of determination on his face. He seemed familiar with the practice as he said, “

Expecto patronum!”

very resolutely.

Not even a flicker.

James almost didn’t seem to notice; he was still staring at his wand in expectation. Or maybe that was what he looked like when he was confused. No, wait— there was the frown. “That’s odd.”

Regulus could hear the smugness in his own voice. "Are you so used to being a demigod?”

James looked over sharply, as if that comment were more confusing than anything. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His sudden intensity caught Regulus off guard. “I only mean- you seem so sure of success, you don’t even expect failure. Like you think you’re—”

“Perfect?” James wasn’t smiling anymore; he didn't seem particularly amused by this observation. “You would know, wouldn't you?” He turned to face him with a question in his eyes. "Aren't you tired of pretending to be perfect?"

Now he was speechless. After so many easily ignored remarks, Regulus was stunned to see James take something to heart. It took him a moment to find his footing. "I don't pretend I'm anything." He fibbed.

"Sure you do. You lied about your memories, you act like your mum's the

Queen

—" He sighed in exasperation and shook his head. "Y'know, I think you even fake hating

me

. I've been nothing but friendly despite it all, yet you still never fail to mention just how little you think of me every chance you get. Quite frankly, it's doing my head in. I know we're not friends, but you don't have to be so bloody

rude.

"

So much indignation welled up in Regulus' chest then that he almost couldn't contain it; James Potter, the boy who lived the perfect life, criticizing how

he

lived his own? How he

suffered?

His eyes narrowed. "I don't exactly have a choice, do I, Potter?" He was so incensed he didn't even think to be intimidated, let alone polite. "I'm

expected

to be perfect. I have to be. My entire bloodline relies on it now that Sirius is gone. You have no
idea
what it's like to suffer the slings and arrows of my position."

"And I'm ruddy glad not to! It's obvious you're miserable—" James retorted, shaking his head in disappointment again. "You're a phony, but at least you don't pretend to be

happy

, do you?"

Regulus gaped at his audacity.

He only scoffed and began to walk back toward the house as he rolled down his sleeves. "Just forget it. I don't know why we're wasting our time with this rubbish if you won't even try." His patience had been worn out.

To Regulus' own surprise, the word 'wait' danced at the tip of his tongue. He took a step forward, but even as James looked back over his shoulder in expectant skepticism, he didn't know what he was really going to say.

"

Flipendo!"

Was what ended up coming out.

There was a loud bang as James was knocked off of his feet and thrown to the grass a few meters away. He sat blinking in shock for a moment. "Wh— did you just—?"

Regulus, startled by his own audacity, started to frantically piece together something like an apology. "I didn't— I mean—"

"

Aguamenti!"

A face full of water quickly interrupted him.

"

Hey

-!" He spluttered as he put his hands up to try to block some of it. But Regulus quickly realized James wasn’t about to show mercy anytime soon. “

Serpensortia-!”

A snake burst forth from his wand, though he couldn’t see well enough through the water to be sure of his aim. It seemed to at least be a good distraction, because the spray weakened enough for him to regain his bearings.

“A snake summons spell? Really?” James watched the little garter snake slither away in the grass at his feet, a scoffing smile on his lips. “I expected more from-”

Regulus didn’t wait for him to finish. He just flicked his wand up and down as precisely as he could manage, and spoke. “

Incendio!”

With a short frown and a quick instinct, James had already cast a flame-freezing charm without saying a word. The fire flickered over him with little to no effect, but he still seemed somewhat offended by the threat. "

Expelliarmus."

He caught his wand in his other hand, and smirked.

Regulus stepped backward in apprehension, preparing himself not to flinch. He knew what came next— he'd seen it a hundred times. At least the other three weren't there to laugh at him.

But, curiously enough, the hex didn't come.

“I won.” Remarkably, James was handing his wand back to him, handle first. "Even if you did shoot me in the back.”

This act of kindness had Regulus at more of a loss for words than his biting words had before. They weren’t friends. What reason did Golden Boy Potter have to spare him any pain?

Despite his shock, he took the wand offered back to him, and let his hand fall back to his side. “...I apologize.” Regulus said softly, still wary even as he realized the appalling way he’d behaved. He was hot in the face, despite the pleasant breeze. “I shouldn’t have broken rule three in the first place.”

“You were going to light me on

fire

." James almost sounded impressed as he reminded him.

“I was going off instinct.” Regulus huffed, still trying to smooth out his clothes for the same reason, despite the fact that they were soaked straight through. “But I admit that I.. overreacted.”

“So maybe you did. I just never expected your magic to be so strong— you don’t seem like much at first, but you’re scary when you lose your temper.” He chuckled and put his own wand back in his pocket.

It felt as much a trap to take that as a compliment as it did an insult, so instead Regulus quickly opted to avoid it altogether. However, in that brief silence, James had been studying him for a rather intimidating moment.

Regulus spoke, rather than sitting in apprehension. Maybe he was feeling courageous. More likely that he had nothing to lose. “What is it?”

“Thanks for saying sorry. I didn’t expect that either.”

“Er… yeah.” They’d finally reached uncharted territory, and he was floundering. How was it possible to feel so entirely flattered and humbled, yet such an overwhelming urge to be sick at the same time?

James must’ve seen the panic on his face and pitied him, because he had the mercy to change the subject and save him from further injury. “Look— wet right through, you are.” He scoffed and gestured to his clothes. “Come on, we’ll fix you up like before. Only fair.”

When Regulus snapped back to Grimmauld Place again, it was in a bit of a daze. He was in his own clothes and home and room again, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. It didn’t even feel like he was in his own skin, now that he’d returned. Mother would’ve said he was going soft; sitting by the fire and listening to the Potters talk as the two charmed away the wrinkles in his jacket would do that, he figured. Who wouldn’t be softened by such a quiet comfort? And James— well. At the current moment, Regulus couldn’t even bring himself to revisit those moments without overwhelming the part of his brain that kept him from burying his face in the nearest pillow. He’d never been so embarrassed in his life. Or had to fight so hard to keep from smiling.

He was just about to grab his quill and ink to log such a confusing day in his journal, when there was a knock at the door. Regulus frowned, and quickly returned the book to its hiding place.

“Yes?”

The door creaked open, and the house elf stepped in. “Another letter for Master Black.” Regulus felt a thrill at the idea that James might have written him again already, as improbable as it was— but indeed, a piece of folded parchment was being held out before him. Now there was no holding back the curl of his lips as he came over to take it.

“Thank you, Kreacher—”

But his words died on his tongue as soon as he was close enough to make out the seal. A snake, curled into an elegant ‘S’ shape. In black wax.

“Leave me at once.”

“As Master Black wishes…”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Nothing compared to the ripple of the breeze through Prongs’ fur as he ran, save for the whip of the wind against his face as he soared over the Quidditch pitch. He raced through the open countryside, hooves beating against the ground at a pace as steady and free as his happy heart. It felt as though he might lift right off of the ground if he ran any faster— and why not? He could do anything he set his mind to, couldn't he? The stag pressed on, just to see if he would.   It was some time later in these unending dream-plains that Prongs’ ears flicked; he heard something. His pace slowed, senses searching for the source of that strange noise. Something just past the bracken there…    Slowly, though not necessarily cautiously, he stepped towards the bush. Sniffed.    To his surprise, a small fluffy face appeared, and almost bumped their noses together. He made a soft snuffle-y sound in greeting. By now they felt like old friends, and not strangers passing in the night. Yet even after so many forgotten meetings, the mysterious cat still burst forth from the brush and bounded out of reach, just as it always had. Prongs took chase as if on queue— just as he always had. The only difference now was that he didn't really mind so much; he enjoyed the chase he'd grown used to, enjoyed the reliable thrill of never catching up to this nameless feline that always kept just out of reach. Half of him still held out hope he’d catch up one of these nights, but it no longer frustrated him so much to fall behind just before the end. It was too much fun for him to be angry. So together the two of them raced through the moors for what felt like hours every night, not for any reason but their own enjoyment. They wound between hills and leapt over fallen trees, forging their own trails through the brush.    Then quite suddenly the cat halted, and took a sharp turn to the left— right off the same path they'd been running tracks into for so many nights. Prongs nearly tripped over his own hooves in his struggle to stop and follow after. This was entirely new.    He followed that fluffy tail as closely as he could manage as he watched it squeeze through bramble bushes and under low branches, only stopping to rip a way through for himself with his antlers. Frustratingly though, he could feel himself falling behind. Prongs huffed and kept on. He wasn't about to give up now.    A yowl came from just ahead.    A bolt of fear ran through him like lightning.    Prongs burst through the brambles as if they were lichen hanging from the trees. His nostrils flared, eyes blazing as they searched the place he'd come to from the crowned head they stood up on.    Another caterwauling snarl and he charged forward, uninterested in the ruins he’d approached in his search for his friend.    As he turned a corner, he saw them: the cat— injured and low to the ground, tail lashing— and an adder, black zigzagging down its back, readying to strike again. Those now-familiar grey eyes flashed up at him. Warning him, it seemed. But also allowing the snake an opening.    It shot out.   James dashed forward and threw down his hooves with all his might.    He was too late.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Well at least he’s trying. Worm’s better with actual practice than books I suppose.” James rifled through records with one hand as he spoke into the mirror he held in the other.    “That’s what I was saying before— in a year we’ll be able to have some real practice. Should’ve just waited until then.”     He stopped to raise an eyebrow at Sirius. “And I said ‘why not both,’ remember? The earlier a start we get, the better.”    “I’m just about fed up with reading after the year we’ve had, Prongs. It’s nearly ruined the activity for me altogether.” He said half heartedly. “Aren’t you bored at home yet?”    "Oh , terribly .” James replied, hoping his sarcasm distracted from the lie. “I’d be languishing here all alone if it weren't for mother and father. Even the map’s been a bit of a bore— Dumbledore doesn’t do anything but pace in his office when he’s around, and McGonagall’s never been much fun. Although it did look like she was taking a nice stroll around the greenhouses yesterday.”    “You really are starved for entertainment— imagine the ‘Hated 28’ being the most exciting bit of your entire holiday, and it wasn’t even worth the trouble. Sure you don’t want me to come back?”    He tried to gloss over things as smoothly as he could manage. “No, I can entertain myself, Pads. I’ve got studying to keep me busy, and it’s kind of nice to have some quiet-”     “Is that Prongs?!” Wormtail’s voice came through as clear as day, though he couldn’t see him at first. Surely enough though, there was the top of his fluffy blond head popping up over Sirius’ shoulder.    James was glad for the distraction, because ‘kind of nice to have some quiet’ wasn’t even beginning to sound believable. “Oi! Let Peter into the frame, will you?”    Wormtail beamed as Padfoot held the mirror out a bit and they could both be seen. Their voices overlapped, but they were smiling.    “Hullo James! You alright?”    “He’s been missing you lot more than I have!”    “Well, yeah. Only because-”    “And after I’ve been keeping him company. What am I, chopped dragon liver?”    “We just spend so much time talking about-”    “How’re we supposed to have any fun if he won’t even sneak out for a pint? All this whinging, and you still don't want to meet anybody? Have some tales to tell?”    “Yes, but if mum and dad notice one more time-”    Finally, James felt the need to interrupt. Partly to keep Sirius from ducking out of this one so easily— and partly because Wormtail sounded like he could use a little help, too. “Shouldn’t you be headed over to Moony’s soon anyway?”     The other end went silent for a moment.    “Yeah… soon..” Padfoot half shrugged.    Peter glanced between the two uneasily, looking away as soon as he felt the threat of meeting either gaze.    “Don't tell me you’re still worked up over all this. I thought we’d moved past all that fighting business.” They certainly weren't talking to James about it, so the best he could do was encourage them to work it out themselves.    Sirius looked put off, while Peter watched and listened carefully— though he could've been waiting for a bomb to go off, too.    “We aren’t fighting, I just figured Worm might need some extra help, that’s all-”    “Wormtail, do you need extra help?”    His eyebrows rose a little, before he gave a sheepish little shrug.    “See-” Pads began.    “I suppose I could just come over there, couldn’t I?” Peter didn’t usually interrupt Sirius, but this must’ve seemed too perfect a solution to keep quiet. “Then you wouldn’t be alone either, Prongs.” A proud smile of realization was already spreading across his face.    Now it was his turn to go a little quiet.    “It’s a grand idea and all, but I don’t think it will work.” James bluffed.     Only Sirius’ suspiciously furrowed brow could be seen in the hand mirror’s reflection. “...why?”     “Oh, well… Everything's been quite busy around this place, really. Between waiting for O.W.L. results and shopping, and all the rest—  and father hasn’t been feeling well either, so I-”    By the grace of Godric, his mother called from downstairs before he could continue. "James~! Letter for you!"    The sudden fear that Kreacher might snap into being behind him raised the hair on the back of his neck. He wrapped things up as quickly as he could. “I’d better go, but listen— don’t put off going to Moony’s! I know once you get there you’ll be glad you went.”    “Yeah, alright. See you, James.”    “Bye, James!”     He gave a sigh of relief once the mirror’s surface calmed, and he could only see his own face once again. Hardly more than a week and a half since Sirius left for Peter’s, and James was already struggling to keep secrets from them both. It didn’t help that he could tell it was mutual— in fact, quite the opposite. Now the distance between them was even greater, and he had a hand in it. Secretly spending time with Regulus Black was one thing, but lying to his friends’ faces about it put an uncomfortable pit in his stomach. Not unlike the feeling he’d gotten at Fortescue’s.    No less than a week ago, he and Regulus had their first meeting under the guise of secret tutoring. James could finally get some help solving his soulmark from somebody, and Regulus could get a leg up on his peers and the hefty demands of his upcoming fifth year. The simplest of plans, really— one he might even have told Sirius about— until it came time to hear his happy memory. And he realized…    Regulus didn’t have one.    Oh, he may have made a good show of getting defensive of his answer and expecting a battle over it, but James knew better. He could see in the way he hesitated and fidgeted with his hands that Quidditch was nothing better than a lie. Perhaps he should’ve seen that as a triumph; a dark wizard in the making who already had no hope of casting a Patronus, that was good. Inevitable, even. But James only felt… pity. A kind of compassion that his mother and father instilled in him from birth.     So, he’d pledged a couple of things to himself without even thinking what that would mean. One, he pledged that he would really, truly have a proper go at teaching Regulus something, Patronus or not. Perhaps it would ease the sting of dishonesty if he felt he was keeping his promise. And, two— he pledged to make him smile. Once was enough, if only to see that he knew how. That would give him a better idea of where they stood, anyway.    James had kept this in mind as he prepared for their most recent meeting; he’d every intent on an entirely positive, (or at least productive,) session. Not only would he set a good example and be the good host his parents wanted him to be, but he’d show Regulus that there were more important things than breeding and etiquette— he’d put together a sort of lesson plan and everything. Someone needed to bring some energy into his life, that much was clear, and despite originally planning on spying on him, that had now become James’ self appointed duty. Yet, with every effort to shake him from that frigid tomb of propriety, Regulus always seemed to pull further into it. And that might not have bothered James so much— if he hadn’t taken such delight in his failure. He was beginning to feel like every time he fell short of perfection, there was someone there to rub his face in it. Well, he'd had enough.     Apparently, Regulus hadn’t.    For a second it’d looked like he was going to say something— the next, James found himself head over heels and trying to make sense of things. Regulus may have been a Slytherin and all, but he’d still never expected him to try and duel him. Certainly not in his very own garden. Certainly not with a jinx to the back.     ….What fun .    Truth be told, he was pleased. Not just for the excitement or practice, but to see anything other than a scowl on that face. There were even a few moments there where he thought he saw concern flicker across it; or maybe that was just fear of the consequences. Regardless, he’d fought well— impressed him, even. And that was before he’d apologized. Actually apologized. As irritated as he’d been a moment before, James found himself feeling a bit guilty. It was complete madness of course, but he felt bad for teasing someone who was already so miserable. Miserable enough that he was willing to admit his wrongs in order to keep this ridiculous arrangement going, despite not getting much out of it yet.    He’d been terribly cruel, hadn’t he? It was even more embarrassing that he couldn’t find it in himself to return the favor. That was why he’d recruited mother’s help in making up for his mistakes. Hopefully Regulus’ silence as he sat by the fire meant it worked, and he’d come back. James couldn’t take another unresolved conflict hanging over his head— particularly one that was entirely his own doing.    All of this was going through his mind again as he trotted down the stairs, for once actually hoping to see Kreacher. If Regulus was already writing him again, then maybe he’d forgotten all about it, and he could leave this whole guilty conscience business behind him.    “In here, son!” Fleamont sounded particularly chipper as he called from the kitchen. He and Euphemia both seemed to brim with excitement as their son came in to join them.    James gave a quick sweep of the room before he sat down. No Kreacher. “You said I’ve got a letter?”    “Just here.” His mother could hardly contain herself as she handed him an envelope with a large red Hogwarts seal on it. “I had to bribe your father with the promise of apple crumble just to keep him from opening it..!”    He took it from her without much of a reaction. “Thanks, mum.”    Fleamont and Euphemia exchanged a glance, but didn’t say anything as they waited for him to read the contents.    James’ eyes skimmed over the parchment briefly before he offered it to his mother with a distracted smile. “Looks like studying paid off.”    She accepted it from him, but only took a moment to look at his O.W.L. results before turning her attention back to her son. “Aren't you pleased?”    “Yes, mum, I'm very pleased.” He said.    “Let's see here…” Fleamont accepted the letter from Euphemia and adjusted his glasses for a better look. Nodded in satisfaction. “Why, these are admirable scores. Right admirable.” He put down the parchment and studied James over the bridge of his glasses. “I thought you’d be over the moon about this James, what with how we've spoken about you wanting to be an Auror.” His father raised an eyebrow. “That hasn't changed, has it?”    “You know you can do anything you set your mind to, Jamies, don't you?”    He chewed his cheek in thought as a cup of tea was set in front of him. “Yeah, I know that.” He let out a huff of breath. “And I do still want to be an Auror.” He frowned. “But…” James looked up at his parents. He wanted so badly to make them proud, to be the son they deserved and had dreamed of for so long, that he hesitated to give them any cause to worry. But they always seemed to have an answer, a reason. Maybe they'd have one now, if he was only brave enough to ask. “There's more to life than that, isn't there?” He implored them.    Euphemia studied his face with tender eyes. “Of course there is, darling.”    His father furrowed his brow and set the letter aside. “..what's this about, James?”    It was about quite a lot of things, really, but there was one that bothered him above all. “It's this soulmate thing.” He ventured. “It feels like it's changed everything.”    “How so, dear?”    “Well…” Suddenly, he felt that same nervousness he had when lying to his mates in the mirror. Like admitting he'd lied would be even more uncomfortable than telling the truth in the first place. “I don't know. I guess I just thought things were one way, and now… they're completely another.” His shoulders fell a bit. “I know it was some time ago, but— can you remember ever feeling that way? Like your life turned upside down the moment you turned sixteen?”    Fleamont chuckled in good nature. “Now, it may have been ‘some time ago’, but I daresay everyone feels that way at some point or another. Particularly at your age. As for your soul mark…” He cast a glance at his wife, who returned it as if in agreement.   “We’ve been a smidge secretive about all that with you, Jamie. We thought it'd be best to let you figure it out on your own, but.. it seems we’ve been leaving you to fend for yourself, haven't we?”    James looked hopeful. “You mean you know something?”    “Quite a few things, as a matter of fact. Not all of them fit for your ears, either. Until now.”    “Well why on earth not?” He demanded. “If you knew something that would help me find my soulmate, then why not tell me?”    His mother and father seemed to soften at the betrayal in his voice, but they didn't fold. “Now don't get cross with us just because you don't understand— we have our reasons.”    “What reasons?”    Fleamont looked to his wife again. She smiled a bit, and nodded. “Well, son… why don't we just tell you a story, and that might become more clear to you. It might sound rather familiar at first, but just wait, and listen. There are a few important details we’ve left out you might not want to miss.”    “Alright.” James frowned some, but picked up his tea in both hands and settled in. “What kind of a story?”    “The story of our courtship.” Euphemia said somewhat coyly.    His head jerked upward, “But I've heard this one before! Dad was already wildly famous—”    “I told you it would sound familiar at first, but this time around it will be a little bit different, James. Try just to listen.” His father gently reminded him.    “Right— sorry. Please continue, mum.”    She nodded at them both. “Thank you. As I was saying… the story of our courtship…”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Fleamont settled in himself, the same sparkle in his eye he always got when they told this particular tale.

“As you know, Fleamont and I didn’t start out together from the beginning— he was well on his way to being married to my very dear friend Agnes Copperpot by the time we met— but what you don’t know is why.”

“Well they just got on well, didn’t they?”

“Oh, we liked each other well enough,” Fleamont interjected, “and she was a lovely girl, but we weren’t particularly keen on one another, necessarily. We were connected by something else.”

James looked perplexed.

“Don’t look at me like that before I can explain, will you?”

“Monty and Agnes were connected by their soulmarks, Jamie.”

Now his eyebrows flew up in interest. “What? But-”

“Back then things worked a bit differently than they do now. Times were still changing— and for the better, quite frankly— but it used to be that when one discovered the shape of their soulmate, they were expected to seek them out. And, once they found them—

if

they found them— they were expected to be married. And that was that.”

It wasn't James’ first time hearing of arranged marriages among wizards, or of other antiquated traditions holding over from the past for too long— but it was his first time hearing that soulmates were any part of that.

“I’d been searching far and wide for the owner of the bird on my ankle since the moment it appeared. Very readily provided this information in fact, in the hopes of finding my other half.”

“A habit only exacerbated by your sudden fame, I might add.” Euphemia teased.

“Yes, that too.” He chuckled. “But I did parade, nevertheless.”

“You paraded right into a hasty engagement, if I recall. All she did was speak to your aunt about her patronus once, and you paid her a visit only a few days later.” She cast a look in James’ direction, sharing her amusement with him.

“Well, when I put my mind to something, I’m quite determined.”

She smiled and put her hand atop Monty’s before she continued. “That you are. Now— my friend did have a hawk patronus. But we were a little more modern about things than our parents were; it was much more fashionable to get to know one another before making any binding agreements. One doesn’t just spring the question upon a person.”

“So despite the understanding that we were likely going to end up together, I had the pleasure of spending some time with Agnes and her friends and family first. Which meant spending time with your mother as well.”

“And what a time you had.” Euphemia tittered.

“We certainly got up to our fair share of trouble.” Monty chuckled almost sheepishly. “Parties and expeditions and wild adventures. But in the end… I always found myself coming back to Effie.” His smile grew sentimental. “Her quiet determination, her generous spirit, her sweetness.. we had the most

brilliant

conversations.” He looked at James with a humble admittance in his eyes. “It got to the point that I simply couldn't believe we weren't destined to be together.” His father sighed, and shook his head as he sat back. “It just didn't stand to reason.”

“Well love doesn't have anything to do with reason. We learned that the hard way.”

There was a pause as the two of them exchanged unspoken words in a shared gaze that James didn't understand.

“But you

were

destined to be together, clearly.”

“We’ll get to that in a moment, son.” Fleamont reminded him gently.

Euphemia gave a soft exhale before she resumed. “They were to be wed as soon as the roses bloomed. And, just as we’ve said before, in that time the three of us spent quite a lot of time together. And in that time, your father and I grew rather close. It must have been obvious to anyone where his attention truly lay, yet he continued to leave things as they were, coasting along toward those soon to be blooming roses.

I

couldn't say anything to him, because I didn't want to hurt poor Agnes. And speaking to Agnes, well I was hesitant to do that before knowing Monty’s true feelings. He was being quite impossible about the whole thing.”

“I was

afraid.

” Fleamont chuckled. “It’s not an easy decision to make, stepping away from one’s destiny.”

“But you did— you wrote mother a letter, days before the wedding.”

“Well yes, finally, there came a day when he couldn't hide it any longer. Monty wrote me the most scandalous letter, professing his undying love and suggesting an

elopement

of all things, all in the hopes of sparing us pain.” Euphemia was smiling in pure wistfulness, now. “I couldn't believe my eyes. Or that someone so clever could be so dramatic.” She shook her head. “Things really weren't so bad as all of that. And as romantic as it was, there was no need for such theatrics. All we had to do was be honest.”

“So you—”

“That’s right, I decided to speak to Agnes myself. It was all solved rather quickly after that. It turned out that she’d caught on quite some time ago; kept Monty on tenterhooks for not coming right out and admitting that he was in love with someone else. I remember her saying something along the lines of, ‘He’s terrifically bright, you know… but tremendously stubborn.’” She looked amused. “Agnes didn't care much for his clumsiness in handling the whole thing, but she forgave us. What a relief it was.”

“Even though they had each other’s marks…?” James said it with quiet shock.

Fleamont’s brow wrinkled, and he shook his head. “That’s what I’d realized; that no matter whose mark I had on me, I loved your mother— and I'd give up my fate a hundred times over for this woman.”

Somehow, it made his parents’ romance even more of a fairytale to him than it already had been. They'd overcome their own destinies to be together. But then… What did that mean for him? His expression must have spoken of his confusion, because his mother spoke up again.

“That isn't the end of the story, darling.”

“Oh, I know. You two got married instead. Agnes was your bridesmaid. Then you moved here and waited so long to have a family you gave up, until I came along.”

“Yes, that's all true, but you skipped over some important details.”

James frowned, and looked at the two of them expectantly.

“On our wedding night, we made a point of swearing honesty would be a constant in our marriage. So of course Monty unveiled the mark on his ankle I’d heard so much about, and I showed him mine. Much like many do on their wedding night these days.”

“And?” His eyebrows rose as he waited for them to continue.

“They matched.” Fleamont grinned.

His jaw dropped. “What??”

“Mhm. A little fox, sitting on my shoulder.” Euphemia smiled. “Unbeknownst to me, Agnes hadn’t ever shown Monty her mark. I asked her later what her reasons were, and she explained that she hadn't planned on it; at first, she just wanted to see if he’d have the courage to tell the truth about his feelings. She expected him to fold right away, but by the time things got serious, Agnes decided it’d be better to teach him a lesson about love than give him the easy way out.” She laughed softly. “It certainly made for an unexpected wedding present.”

“So you

were

destined to be together. Father wasn’t looking in the wrong place at all.”

“Yes… and no.” She replied.

“That had nothing to do with us finding each other, you see, James? What destiny has in store for us can't be forced or found. If it weren't for my realizing that mark meant nothing to me in the face of my love for Euphemia, I never would have known. I had to stop looking in order to find her.” Fleamont asserted.

“That's why we waited to tell you. Some witches and wizards let the search for their soulmate consume them. That wasn’t the life we wanted for you.”

“Huh.” James was still letting it all sink in. He wasn't entirely sure what moral he was supposed to glean from this new, revised version of the story, but it certainly gave him a lot to think about.

“Please don't overthink this, Jamie.” His mother put a gentle hand on his arm to stir him from his thoughts. “Even if they are not who you expect, you'll find who you belong to. All will be well, we’ve always known that. You're marked for happiness.”

“How do you know that?”

“There's no explaining it.” Fleamont said with a tender smile. “We can just see it.”

James shook his head and smiled back. Sirius sometimes called them sappy— which he couldn't disagree with— but he still found himself touched by their words and comforted by their sentimentality every time. Hopefully things really were as simple as that.
  
    Sitting up in his room, he wasn't so sure. James had gone to the trouble of putting together all of his notes and looking them over again now he had this story to add to them. It didn't feel like much, but it was more than nothing.

There were the details he did know, (more like a series of small clues, really); a Cancer, wealthy or friendly or maybe both, with a cat patronus. That wasn't much help.

He had his list; in which he'd crossed off Lily and Severus’ names at the top and the other Marauders just below. They weren't born under Cancer and Peter was unmarked, so he could rule them out.

And, he had his findings in relation to soulmates; though that wasn't much more than a few notes about what he'd read, other than his parents’ most recent addition. It seemed they’d kept him in the dark after all. James felt that he knew half as much as anyone else did, and that if he asked any more, he’d only be told to be patient again. Which wasn't

bad

advice, certainly… it just wasn't the advice he wanted to hear.

He sighed, reading over the small bit of information he had of his soulmate for the thousandth time. No matter how hard he tried, he could never quite picture them in his mind. Although the dreams were so frequent now that even if the details were foggy, he could always recall the cat. James had almost committed the elegant flow of that tail to memory. He was even beginning to consider names for it— but all that came to mind was ‘Whiskers’, and that just didn't feel… sophisticated enough. It was a work in progress.

His head tilted to the side as he lay his elbow on his pillow and picked another paper from the pile. So few candidates, and nearly all crossed off. Hm. James added another name or two to the list, before he hopped up to flip the record. He was troubled by the idea that he should just forget about the matter altogether. Surely it wasn't entirely in vain. But that wasn't what they'd really been saying anyhow, was it? They were just telling him not to get carried away. So, he wouldn't. Problem solved.

James was just throwing himself back down on his bed to resume brainstorming when a familiar

‘snap’

caught his attention.

“Kreacher presents-”

“Kreacher! I thought I’d never see that pretty face of yours again, give us a kiss—” He hopped up to meet him, but the house elf looked so appalled at what he'd said that James didn't have the heart to turn his cheek and keep up the joke.

Kreacher grumbled, waiting until the sniggering quieted to try again. “Kreacher presents Mr. Potter with a letter from Master Black.”

James nodded his head in mock formality, an amused smile still on his lips as he took the envelope offered to him. “Thank you, Kreacher.”

He didn't reply. Never did, as a matter of fact. Just waited to return with his hastily written response.

The letter was torn open and read through within minutes.

James Potter,

I apologize for my delayed response. It's taken longer than anticipated to read the books you asked me to, and I didn't want to risk a reply for a letter of no consequence.

For the same reasons, I must insist that our next meeting take place sooner rather than later. Four o’clock tomorrow afternoon would be best; at your home, if at all possible. Better there than to be seen.

I hope your mother is well.

Sincerely,

Regulus Arcturus Black

James gave a little entertained huff of breath in reaction to Regulus’ formality— and consideration. He glanced up at Kreacher, who looked to be paying shrewd attention to his reaction. He paid him no mind as he pulled out the chair at his desk and set to work writing his own response. It didn't take long; the slowest bit of the whole process was the seal.

Regulus,

No need for apologies, it was a bit of a stack.

Tomorrow afternoon works fine, as long as we've got time for a walk and a chat. If I have to sit in my room any longer I think I'll tear my hair out! Are you staying for supper? Mum would be pleased.

James

“Here you are, Kreacher.” He handed the envelope off. “I’ll see you soon.” And grinned.

The house elf grumbled something further about disgraces or blood traitors or something like that, and barely nodded his head. Then snapped away in an instant.

James chuckled a little to himself after a moment. It felt silly now to think he'd expected Regulus not to write. It felt silly to have devoted so much thought to the question when he knew full well he wouldn't dare expose their secret. Silly to think he'd be disappointed if they were done before they'd even really gotten started.

He stood and stretched, before making his way back over to his bed. Then took a seat, and reached for his notes. Hopefully Regulus would have more for him to add to them. That was another thing; poor bloke wouldn't have a reason to leave the house if not for their exchange of services. And without a service to

exchange

, well… what would

that

look like?

Kreacher popped back into his room, putting a startling end to his musing. “Kreacher presents Mr—”

“‘Potter with another letter from Master Black.’ Yes, thank you Kreacher.” James nodded as he got up and reached out for it. “Quite a speedy reply, isn't it?”

The house elf gave him a disgruntled glare, but allowed him to take the envelope without protest. This time, however, he didn't wait— simply popped off without another word. Apparently, that was the end of their correspondence for the night.

He sat back down to read.

James Potter,

That all depends greatly upon which kind of a walk you mean. Should this ‘walk’ turn into another case of me needing a change of clothes, I don't think I will be staying for supper.

I have until seven, at the latest.

Regulus Arcturus Black

A small smirk on his lips, James read the letter once more before he set it aside. He wasn't surprised Regulus would react with such suspicion, even if there was no need— but it did amuse him. And so did teasing him about it— which made it all the more difficult to hold back from such an easy target. But this time, this time really would be different. He'd really try with Regulus; try and let some of his own walls down to see if he might be able to peek over and catch a glimpse. Then maybe they could finally get along.

It was a lot more fun than worrying over Pads and Moony’s situation. Especially when Remus suddenly took a week’s time to reply to his letters at least, when it used to only be a couple of days— maximum! And Sirius? James might've said he seemed

frightened

of Moony, if he didn't know any better.

He sighed, and pushed his glasses up on his nose. The smell of roast beef wafted up from the stairwell. But before he went off to see about sneaking bites of side dishes and poking around the kitchen, he stopped to quickly add another name to the list.

Regulus Black