accio-sriracha

[accio-sriracha]

"Mr. Potter! Tell me about your relationship. How did it all end?"

"Mr. Potter! If I could please steal a moment of your time to ask about the situation between you and Miss Weasley?"

"Mr. Potter! Is it true what happened between you and Ginny Weasley, the Quidditch star?"

"Mr. Potter! What do you have to say about-"

"Mr. Potter-" "Mr. Potter-" "Mr. Potter-"

Harry was at his breaking point.

Though, if he were being honest, he was at his breaking point a long time ago.

He and Ginny had broken up just after the war, deciding they were in very different places and wanted very different things.

In other words, Ginny and Luna Lovegood began dating just after the war.

Harry wasn't upset by it. He was thrilled, actually. He wasn't sure he and Ginny were ever really right for one another. She was Ron's sister, someone he'd been introduced to like family; things had felt wrong between them long before she ever realised she was gay.

It also made it a lot easier for Harry to accept his own truth.

That he was too.

To keep Ginny from getting any backlash as she moved up the social ladder throughout her quidditch career, they all agreed it was for the best if they pretended to still be in a relationship.

It was just easier that way.

Harry could see whoever he wanted if he chose, and Ginny could be with Luna without any pushback from the press.

It wasn't hard to pretend either. They didn't do anything more than they usually did when they hung out; they talked like always, went out to cafés and went shopping together.

People just assumed the lack of kissing and hand-holding was a PDA issue. Harry made sure to encourage those rumours.

And this all went swimmingly; Ginny and Luna got married, all the Weasleys were there, and it was a beautiful ceremony.

Well, it was good, until someone released photos from said wedding and outed Ginny to the entirety of the Wizarding World.

They tried to deny it, tried to claim it as fake and charmed together. But the proof was undeniable. The picture showed Ginny exchanging rings with a woman in a bridal dress while Harry stood off to the side as Ginny's best man.

The news spread like a wildfire. It went far and fast and it was all anyone would talk about for the rest of the year.

And that's how Harry ended up here. No matter what the event was for, no matter what conference he was holding or what fundraiser he was appearing at, it was always the same questions.

Did you know your girlfriend was gay?

How do you feel about being cheated on?

How are you recovering from your recent heartbreak?

Why were you the best man? Did she force you to attend?

It was madness.

They had agreed to deflect these questions. Harry still wasn't sure he was ready to come out, and Luna's face was never shown in the photo; it was better to keep the damage to a minimum and not answer anything.

"Mr. Potter?" His assistant called, drawing him out of his spiral.

He glanced up. He could see on the screens around the large auditorium how tired he looked.

He had spaced out, as he often did at these sorts of things. His introduction often took far longer than it needed to.

In his opinion, a simple 'Auror Potter' would have done fine.

The rest of that Boy Who Lived crap was just ridiculous, really.

"Yes, Beatrice?" His tone was sharp, maybe a little too sharp, given they were in public and Beatrice was actually a very nice woman.

"Oh! Um... sorry, sir, you have a question."

"Go on then." He waved in the general direction of the reporters.

He didn't want to see that spark of excitement in the journalist's eyes as they pelted him with questions about the so-called affair, or how he felt about the war, or what it was like to fucking die.

The only thought in his mind was a repeating one: Merlin, please don't ask me about Ginny.

He was surprised when he recognised the speaker's voice. Deeper now and without the typical jeering tone to accompany it.

"Can you tell me when the Aurors will be making a decision on the protection of children in pureblood homes? The petition has yet to be signed, and the community needs an answer."

Harry's eyes snapped up.

Looking directly into Draco Malfoy's.

Harry didn't reply, partially because he couldn't find his voice, and also because he had no idea what to say to Malfoy after all of these years.

He didn't care what he looked like, or what other people would think of his blatant staring.

For once- perhaps the first time since he graduated and began his journey as an auror- he completely forgot he was in the public eye.

"Malfoy." The word was barely a whisper, but the microphone placed directly in front of him ensured the entire room could hear.

This one word is what drove the room into pure silence. Harry doubted the Minister of Magic herself could manage this level of attention he gained in a single breath.

Malfoy's eyes widened and he cleared his throat, glancing around at the screens with their cameras now pointed at him.

"Potter," he greeted. The microphone made it sound like a shout in the quiet room.

Harry's heart lurched at the sound, the familiarity of his name from Malfoy's lips.

In a world where everything had changed so rapidly since the war, this was something he could count on.

Only not really. They weren't fighting anymore. And Malfoy was still waiting for an answer to his question.

"I'm sorry." Harry sat up a little straighter, actually paying attention for what was probably the first time that evening. "Would you mind repeating the question, please?"

It was the politest he'd been to a reporter in, well, ever. Malfoy nodded and looked back down at his notebook.

"The activists for the protection of children in abusive pureblood homes would like an official statement from the Auror department on what they are willing to do to help," he explained again.

Harry watched Malfoy's eyes, the way he spoke with so much passion. Harry remembered it so clearly. It was the same glint he'd held all those years ago.

The sight made his stomach flip. Maybe things hadn't changed so much after all.

"Tell me more about your organisation," Harry said.

Beatrice shot him a questioning look. The conference was to introduce Harry as the new Head Auror, and they had a strict schedule for questions that was going to end soon.

Harry didn't care.

Malfoy looked a little shocked but nodded anyway. "We've been working to remove and re-home young wizards from suspected abusive households, especially but not entirely exclusive to pureblood families."

Harry didn't know why this would surprise him. Malfoy was always strong-willed; of course he would lead an organisation for something he was passionate about.

Harry thought back to his time with the Dursleys and found himself nodding, imagining how much easier his life would have been if he'd been placed with a family like the Weasleys from the start.

"I'll have to admit you have my interest." Harry gave a half smile. He could see cameras flashing like mad.

Harry wasn't sure he'd ever smiled at a conference before.

"Enough to convince you to help?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow. And just like that, they were kids again, young and content in their own small worlds, like nothing else mattered around them.

"That depends." Harry leaned back a little. "You're the spokesperson?"

"Does that fact bother you, Potter?"

"Not in the slightest, Malfoy." He felt his lips twitching further upwards. More lights flashed to capture the monumental moment of Harry's real smile. "What's the name of this organisation?"

He hesitated. "A Chance to Choose. Most of us just call it the Chance Movement."

"You named it?" He could tell by the nervous way he checked his charts.

Malfoy's chin tilted up. "I did," he replied, gaining the confidence Harry had always considered him to be a ponce for as kids. Now, he found it rather charming.

"I like it." Harry nodded.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "What do you say, then? Do you think the Auror department will be willing to help?"

Harry let out a long breath and finally glanced over at Beatrice. Her eyes were wide. She shrugged; this wasn't something they normally had to deal with on the Head Auror's first day in position.

"I'll tell you what. I'll have my assistant find you afterwards; we can discuss this matter further when we have more time to do so."

"Would that be a yes, Potter?" Malfoy smirked, his tone hinting at playfulness.

Harry laughed softly, and it felt so freeing he wondered why he didn't laugh more often.

Cameras flashed again, everyone desperate to get his image, effectively reminding him exactly why he didn't.

"That would be a yes, Malfoy. We'll continue this?" He couldn't help the feeling of hope spreading through him, or the relief at the sight of Malfoy's nod.

"Of course. Thank you for your time, Head Auror Potter." He said the name with the same mock-reverent tone he used to call Harry The Chosen One.

It made Harry smile involuntarily.

Leave it to Malfoy to make fun of one of the Head of the Auror department.

"Any other questions?" He asked.

Every single hand in the room shot into the air.

Harry hadn't looked away from Malfoy yet, watching as he bit back a laugh.

Harry nodded and stood from his seat. "On second thought. I think that will be all, thank you."

There was a sudden uproar of noise from the crowd as everyone began talking at once.

Harry walked straight to the edge of the stage, holding out a hand.

"Would you like to walk with me? My assistant can help you with whatever you needto get our collaboration started."

Malfoy smiled and reached up to take it, letting Harry help him onto the stage.

Harry had the afterthought to give the rest of the crowd a quick wave as he led Malfoy to where Beatrice stood.

"I will kill you some day," she hissed.

Harry smiled easily at her. He still hadn't let go of Malfoy's hand.

"I'm sure you will, Bea. Can you clear my schedule for the rest of the day? You can yell at me about public relations later. Mr. Malfoy has more pressing matters to discuss with us."

She narrowed her eyes but didn't object. Something about the way she fought back a smile told Harry she was just as happy as he was about the outcome of the conference. She turned, motioning for security to follow along behind them as they left for Harry's department.

"Scared, Malfoy?" He whispered as they walked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You wish."

[accio-sriracha]

James was... very drunk.

It wasn't the first time this happened and it certainly would not be the last.

But it was the first time he called Lily by the wrong name.

They were sitting in the common room. James had a little too much firewhiskey in his system as he sang along to music in his usual fashion: loud and horribly off-key.

"Is he ever going to stop?" Regulus asked, watching him in amusement. "He's been at it for nearly two hours."

Mary snorted. "I know it's your first time at a Gryffindor party, but I find it hard to believe you haven't heard the stories before."

"What stories?" 

Sirius laughed, patting his shoulder. "Just you wait, brother. It gets worse."

Remus groaned and set his book down. His head fell into his hands. "Merlin, so much worse."

Regulus raised an eyebrow. He couldn't imagine how that was true. James was already standing on top of the couch, swaying as he butchered the lyrics to whatever muggle song Sirius had put on.

"You better not fall again, James. I'm not cleaning up your mess this time," Lily called, rolling her eyes as she took her seat beside Mary. "Alright, what are the bets today?"

Peter raised his glass. "I've got four sickles in the pot for twenty seconds."

Remus looked up from his book again and tossed a couple of coins onto the coffee table. "Three for twenty-five."

"I'm on for five seconds, four sickles," Alice said, leaning against Frank from their spot on the floor. "Frank says forty-five seconds max."

"What are the bets for?" Regulus asked, watching Marlene and Dorcas throw a few coins in as well, calling out a time.

"How long it'll take James to start serenading Lily once we put on a love song,” Sirius explained. “I'm with Alice on this one. He won't even make it to the first word." He tossed a few sickles in too.

"I've got four sickles!" James bellowed, throwing them onto the table.

They all laughed. James clearly had no idea what any of them were talking about.

"How long?" Remus asked, indulging him. 

James scratched his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "Two minutes!"

Regulus rolled his eyes. "You're all horrible people, you know that? He's clearly not coherent." He placed a small stack of coins on the edge of the coffee table. "I give him fifty seconds."

Once the bets were placed, Peter cast a tempus charm, watching the time closely. He nodded for Sirius to start the song.

The song began, but James was still too busy singing the last one to notice. 

Alice and Sirius both groaned as it passed their guesses. 

Regulus stood up and tapped James' arm. "Hey, Potter! Do you hear the song playing right now?" He called over James' singing. 

James startled, looking down at him with wide eyes. "Reggie?" He tilted his head to the side. "What are you doing here?"

"The song, Potter. Do you hear the song?" 

He tried to bring his attention back to the music but James wasn't listening. 

He leapt down from the couch and threw his arms around Regulus.

"Thirty seconds," Peter told them all quietly, resulting in a few more groans. 

Sirius turned the volume up a little louder.

"Oh, I love this song!" Sirius called dramatically, staring at James.

James perked up when he realised, letting Regulus go and hopping back up onto the couch. 

He butchered the words again, but he wasn't looking at Lily when he sang. 

Regulus looked at Peter to see if it counted and he shook his head.

But then it happened. 

He said a name.

Only... it wasn't her name.

The group sat in stunned silence as James’ full attention came to rest on Regulus, serenading him the way he always did to Lily. 

Regulus' face heated up when James changed all of the she's to he's.

When the song ended, nobody spoke for a long time, just watched as James kept bobbing his head to music that was no longer there, mumbling something about silver-coloured eyes.

Peter was the first to break the silence. "Fifty seconds."

They all looked at Regulus. 

Salazar, this was going to be a very confusing night. 

[accio-sriracha]

Remus was carried up the stairs, only half aware of the things going on around him, too focused on the steady grip of Sirius' hand on his waist to really care.

Sirius helped him into their dorm room. The arms wrapped around him tightened as he guided Remus towards his bed.

Remus couldn't help but let out a small giggle once the door was closed.

He couldn't hear the noise from the party anymore, the pressure in his head finally releasing.

"How are you feeling?" Sirius asked, watching him intensely. 

Remus smiled dopily at him. "Better now that we're alone."

Sirius sighed. "Honestly, Remus. How's your head? Is it getting any better?"

Remus pouted at the no-nonsense look on his face. "It still hurts a little.”

"Okay... Is there anything I can do? I can get you water or a potion. Anything you want."

Remus' smile turned coy. "You could kiss it better?"

Sirius groaned, turning away from him. "Gods, Moony. Can you just stop for a second? How much did you drink?"

Remus shook his head. "I don't want to stop."

Sirius sighed again, this time sounding defeated. "Let's get some sleep, alright? I'll grab your pyjamas. Please don't fight me on this. You need to rest."

Remus didn't say anything, watching quietly as Sirius left his side to dig through Remus’ trunk. 

He felt a chill wash over him the instant he was alone.

"Sirius?" He called, his voice shaking.

Sirius came back right away. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" He reached up to feel Remus' forehead.

Remus leaned into the touch without thought. "I don't want you to leave,” he whispered.

And he meant it this time. The thought of Sirius going away was too much for him to handle. 

Sirius watched him for a long moment. His gaze was much softer than before when he finally nodded. "Okay. I won't, I promise. I'm right here." 

He pulled the blankets back and nodded for Remus to get in, helping him out of his shoes.

Remus' words slurred as he stumbled into the bed. “I think I'm falling for you."

Sirius stared at him. Wide eyes and with what looked like a twinge of hope. 

Or maybe Remus was just too drunk.

"What did you say?" Sirius whispered.

Remus pulled Sirius into the bed with him. He didn't care that his shoes were still on or that they were both still in their school uniforms. He just wanted Sirius.

He gave a sigh of relief, nuzzling against his chest, more comfortable than he had been in ages. "I'm falling for you."

Sirius didn't reply. Or maybe he had and Remus had already fallen asleep.

And, at some point, he could have sworn he felt the light press of Sirius' lips against his forehead. 

But it was probably just a dream.

[accio-sriracha]

Something To Run To

"Auror Potter?" The nurse called. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. You can see him now, if you'd like."

Harry nodded, following behind her through the maze of hallways to the psychiatric ward. 

Harry found comfort in the sterile smell of the hospital. In all his years working at the ever-changing ministry, this place had always remained the same. The same smiling medi-witches, the same squeaky carts, the same rock-hard boards they had the audacity to call beds. 

He'd been here often, who in his line of work hadn't? As an Auror you're actively choosing to throw yourself at the nearest sign of danger. Mission after mission. Day in and day out.

It's what he does.

It might be all he's ever done.

The nurse knocked twice on the door. A quiet voice called for her to let herself in. Harry let out a slow breath and nodded as she motioned him inside. 

Harry didn't know what had brought him here, or what he expected to find.

It was stupid to hope for peace, to assume that this meeting would solve all of Harry's problems.

It was smart not to press his luck.

But he couldn't help it. He never really could.

When he opened the door, the man in the chair was facing the other direction, tapping quickly on a keyboard. 

"How can I help you?" He asked, not turning around. He was clearly busy. Harry had caught him at a bad time. 

He considered turning back around, shutting the door behind him and going about his life, pretending his world wouldn't continue to revolve around this man.

But Harry knew he would never make it that far. He would keep coming back, day after day, until he finally found the courage to speak to him. 

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm not actually sure... I was hoping you could tell me."

And suddenly, like a switch flipped on, the very air in the room seemed to change.

The man whipped around, his eyes were full of shock. Harry couldn't blame him.

"Potter?" He whispered. 

Harry gave him a weak smile. It was the best he ever managed these days.

"Hello again, Malfoy."

Malfoy stood, staring at him like he'd seen a ghost. Harry could feel Malfoy's gaze fall over him. His expression jarred, as though he were trying to sort out a puzzle with a missing piece. 

There was curiosity, naturally. They were older now, they'd made different lives for themselves, become different people entirely.

But there was something else, something deeper. A hint of understanding Harry couldn't remember seeing in all of the years that had passed since the war.

Malfoy knows what he's gone through, he's lived it, of course he would understand.

That didn't stop Harry from realising just how long it had been since he'd seen such empathy in someone's eyes.

Malfoy must have noticed it on his expression. Must have seen the longing for something real. Nothing felt right to Harry anymore.

He wondered if Malfoy was just as lost as he was.

Finally, when the tension grew so large Harry was sure he was about to explode, Malfoy spoke.

"You've hit the gym, I see," he muttered. 

And the ache in Harry's shoulders, the grief and guilt and pain that had settled there for years finally fell away.

He laughed, actually laughed, and nodded. "A bit."

Malfoy smiled now too.

What was this feeling?

Harry wasn't sure he could call it peace. Not yet.

But the urge to run, to move and keep moving and never look back, didn't take hold of him the way it usually did. 

He was... content to stay in this office with Malfoy. He didn't feel the need to bear his wand. He didn't feel the need to mentally plan his escape routes.

He didn't feel much of anything aside from the laughter bubbling in his chest.

Maybe it was peace.

"You look good," Malfoy said, leaning back against his desk. "Auror robes look natural on you. Go figure." He gave Harry a teasing smile. 

"You as well." Harry finally took in Malfoy's outfit. The healer cloak suited him well. His hair was left alone for once, falling to frame his face, which wasn't quite as unpleasant as Harry remembered it. "I'm sorry to barge in on you, I know you must be doing important work."

Malfoy waved a hand dismissively, pulling a stool from the side of the room to sit down. He gestured to his chair. "Nonsense. It's refreshing seeing you again. Sit, please, we should catch up."

Harry accepted the offer, in truth his leg was killing him, he'd gotten a curse flung at him last month and the pain hadn't quite worn off yet.

Malfoy noticed right away, looking concerned. "Is your leg alright?"

Right. He was a healer now.

"Yeah, yeah. Work stuff. You know how it is." He brushed it off, trying to keep his posture from slouching.

Malfoy gave him an odd look. "How have you been? I've seen some things on the news, of course, but I never expected you to actually..."

"Show up?" Harry offered. "Yeah, I wasn't really expecting it myself."

"Why did you come?" 

The way he asked wasn't angry like Harry had expected him to be. He wasn't apprehensive or wary of Harry's intentions.

It was strange, the way they sat here now after all of this time and talked like the things they'd been through weren't so soul crushing.

But they were. Laughing. Smiling. Like the scars on their skin meant nothing.

Harry wasn't sure why things felt different now. Almost like it was a relief to see Malfoy.

Which was weird, all things considered. But he'd been through weirder, hadn't he?

"I suppose I just wanted to see how you were."

"I, um... I've been good." Malfoy nodded, looking around his office. "I got my healing certificate and got a job here a few years ago. It's been amazing, actually."

Harry smiled. "That's great. I've heard some of the guys from the department mention your name in some Prophet articles. Seems like you've been doing good work."

It felt off to speak so casually to him. To sit across from Malfoy and talk about their lives like they were old friends. But here they were, and it was so... normal. 

Malfoy's thoughts seemed to mirror his own. "This is strange, right? I mean the last time I saw you we were eighteen and in the middle of the second wizarding war."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, yeah I know. It's very odd."

Malfoy's laugh blended with Harry's in a way neither of them had ever shared before. "Very odd," he agreed.

The laughter died out and there was still subtle smiles on each of their faces.

"So how are you, really?" Malfoy asked again, it hadn't escaped his notice that Harry had avoided the question.

Harry started to lie, the way he always did, but something in Malfoy's expression changed his mind.

"I've been better," he replied. "I've been worse too. I guess I just haven't quite figured out where to put all of my energy."

Malfoy tilted his head to the side. "How do you mean?"

Harry sighed, looking out of the window. "Like... We grew up with the world constantly throwing things at us. You remember what it was like back then... It was always this or that, something going wrong or someone getting hurt. We never got to just... be."

Malfoy bit the inside of his cheek as he nodded. He looked like he understood. Harry knew that he would. Malfoy knew better than anyone what it was like for him back then. 

"You feel like you're still caught in that cycle, even though the war is over."

It wasn't a question, but Harry found himself nodding anyway.

"I just think that we were forced to move on so quickly. Everything just got shoved under the rug and we were pushed out and told to come into the world with nothing to really hold on to. When I joined the Aurors..." He shook his head. "I guess I just never had the time to stop moving."

Malfoy stood suddenly and Harry startled, gripping his wand on instinct.

Malfoy gave him an apologetic look and slowed his movements as he walked back to his desk. Harry carefully put his wand away again.

"I know what you mean," Malfoy said, grabbing something from a drawer. "I'm sorry you feel like this. Hopefully you can find some rest for a while."

Harry shrugged. "I have a flat. It's small. But y'know, it's comfortable."

Malfoy shook his head, taking his seat again. "That's not what I meant. You've spent your whole life looking over your shoulder." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You never stopped running, even after the war was over. I see the reports from the front desk of you coming here after missions. It's always something, Potter. I know you were cursed, and that your leg and shoulder won't heal properly. You haven't stopped running even now."

"You've been keeping tabs on me," Harry whispered. 

He didn't know why he was surprised. They'd always kept tabs on each other, hadn't they? All those years ago when Harry would watch his name on the map. When Malfoy's eyes never moved from his table in the Great Hall.

Even now. Harry hated the Daily Prophet. He never listed to a single thing it had to say.

But when Malfoy's name came up? He couldn't help but give it his full attention.

"You need to stop running away from from your pain, Potter," Malfoy told him gently. "It's only going to get you in more danger. You need to slow down, take a breath." He looked up at him again. "You need to find something that makes you feel like a person again. Something to run to."

Harry was frozen, something about the way he had worded it had him stunned.

Malfoy gave him a gentle smile. "I hope you can find it, Potter. I really do."

Harry cleared his throat again. "I'm surprised you don't hate me. After everything I did to you."

"I could say the same to you." Malfoy laughed quietly. "I never thought I would see you again."

And there it was, the feeling that had enveloped Harry since the second he stepped into this office.

Hope.

He hadn't felt this way in a long time, not since before the war.

But there it was, plain as day in the way his heart pounded against his chest, in the look on Malfoy's face. 

This was something. This was something that made him feel alive.

"You know we couldn't stay away forever," harry whispered. 

And he was right. The room filled with that magical feeling again.

They were nothing, two souls that hadn't crossed paths in ages, but somehow they were everything. The key to something Harry had believed was impossible to find again. 

Maybe he could stop running. 

"I know," Malfoy mumbled. His eyes were softer than Harry had ever seen them. "At least we met like this and not with you on your deathbed, eh?" He laughed.

Harry smiled. "Yeah. I'm glad you're here, Malfoy."

"I'm glad you're here too, Potter." 

And maybe, just maybe, Harry would find some rest after all.

Maybe this was exactly what he needed. After all the years of being on the run, of hiding and hunting and fighting to survive. Maybe this was exactly what would save him. Something to run to.

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

"Me too," Malfoy whispered. "I've been thinking about reaching out... but you know how it is." 

Harry nodded, he did know. He never stopped thinking about Malfoy in the back of his mind. He never stopped wondering. Never stopped wishing he'd get the chance to make it right again. 

"You should come by after my shift is over." Malfoy cleared his throat, looking suddenly nervous. "We could get coffee or something."

Harry smiled. "I'd like that."

He wasn't quite sure where this would lead. He wasn't sure if this feeling in the pit of his stomach would take him to something more.

But he had hope.

And for right now?

That was enough.

[accio-sriracha]

Regulus walked quickly down the corridor, trying to flush the image from his mind.

James had his arm slung around Sirius' shoulders as they laughed, making some inside joke Regulus knew he would never understand.

Regulus was angry, furious. He hated seeing them together. Hated how jealous it made him feel.

"Regulus!" Sirius called, detangling from Potter to jog after him. "Wait up!"

Regulus slowed to a stop even though he knew he probably shouldn't have. "What?"

"You okay? You've been off lately."

Regulus wanted to ask him how he knew. It wasn't like he even acknowled Regulus in the halls anymore with Potter hanging on his arm any chance they got.

"I'm fine. You can go back to Potter."

He started to turn but Sirius stopped him.

"I wanted to ask what was up between you two, you hardly look at him when we hang out together."

"I'm not interested in anything he has to say," Regulus replied.

It was probably the nicest thing he could have said. His mind swirled with more accurate corrections. I hate his guts. I can't stand the way he acts around you. I hate that you're so close with him.

"Is there a problem?" Sirius asked, frowning.

Regulus knew it wasn't Sirius' fault he was confused, but a part of Regulus loathed him for it.

"You really don't get it do you?" He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Get what?"

Regulus' voice was an eerie calm."You love him like family. Fine. Whatever. But do you really have to flaunt it in my face like this?"

"Reg..." Sirius' confusion turned to hurt. "I'm not trying to flaunt anything at you."

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. The two of you are constantly all over each other."

Sirius shook his head. "I don't understand..."

"You never laugh with me the way you do with him," Regulus pointed out. "You never hug me first, or call me before anyone else when you have good news. You never talk to me for hours about the meaningless things the way you do with him." He squared his shoulders. "You don't love me the way you love Potter. And you know what? I can accept that. But I can't accept the way you both look at me like I'm nothing in comparison to the other."

"Reg, I do love you, I always have. Nothing is going to change that."

"Well you certainly don't show it. You're always too busy with Potter to ever give me the time of day. I mean, you two are like inseparable. Is it really that fucking necessary to touch all the time?" He felt a tear run down his face. "Have fun with Potter. I've got practice in a few minutes."

He walked away with his chin held high and his heart in ruins.

Sirius called after him, but Regulus refused to turn. He wouldn't let himself break any more than he already had.

Why did it have to be Potter of all people? Why couldn't Sirius choose someone else?

Stupid Potter. With his gorgeous eyes and messy hair that he somehow managed to pull off.

How could Regulus ever compete with that?

Regulus was scrawny and awkward. He fumbled his way through his social life without a clue of what he was doing. Regulus would never be enough.

So he walked away. And he hoped the distance would make up for the pang in his chest.

When he made it to the dungeons after practice, Barty and Evan were waiting for him in the common room.

"Are you okay?" Evan asked, standing up to greet him at the door. "We heard about your conversation with Sirius."

"Word travels fast, huh?" Regulus muttered, brushing past them to sit on the closest armchair.

Barty cleared his throat. "He told us himself, actually. He asked if we could check up on you."

"Right, because it's so much work for him to do it himself." Regulus' voice dripped with sarcasm. He closed his eyes, trying to reign in his anger.

Quidditch practice had only made things worse, not only was he unable to focus on the snitch, but he slipped up rehearsing a dive and ended up needing to get his shoulder reset. All because stupid bloody Potter had walked out onto the pitch without a shirt on.

Regulus was disgusted by the sight. Was it really necessary for him to show off so much?

"He thought you wouldn't want to hear from him," Evan explained, sitting on the arm of the chair. "He said you seemed really upset."

Regulus scoffed. "Well he can go cry to Potter about it then."

"It's okay to feel hurt. Nobody is trying to take that away from you. But you should try to look at the situation objectively. Sirius reached out because he was concerned, because he cares about you."

Regulus shook his head. "I'm not doubting he cares. I'm just angry he doesn't understand what this feels like for me."

"How could he unless you explain it to him?" Barty asked.

"Most people understand the premise that replacing your brother with someone so... perfect is bound to hurt some feelings." He gave a harsh laugh. "I mean look at Potter! He's smart and funny. He's top of the class in almost every subject. He's quidditch captain and more popular than I could ever hope to be. How could I ever compete with him?"

"You don't have to compete with him, Reg," Evan told him gently. "You're his brother. Potter is his best friend. He doesn't have to choose between you." 

"I just- I wish Potter would keep his hands off Sirius for two fucking seconds. It's bad enough he barely looks at me. But now I can't go three minutes without watching them jump all over each other." 

Something about his words made the others freeze.

There was a long silence before Barty spoke. "What do you mean?"

Regulus shook his head. He didn't want to think about this anymore.

"Nothing. I'm going to bed." He turned and stormed up the steps to the dormitories. 

~~~

The next morning Barty convinced him to go to the Gryffindor common room to apologise to his brother. 

They were invited in and sat down on the couches with him. Sirius waved away his apology almost instantly, just grateful Regulus still wanted to hang out with him. 

They had just eased into a conversation about the quidditch match coming up when Potter walked into the room and plopped down on the couch beside Sirius, sitting so close their thighs were touching. 

Regulus' chest got hot with anger at the sight. 

"Toss me my wand?" Sirius asked, pointing to where it rested on the end table. 

James and Regulus reached for it at the same time. James got it first, handing it over.

Regulus let out a frustrated groan. "Could you stop for just one second?"

Sirius' eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?"

"Not you. Him." Regulus' words dripped with disdain. He knew they could all hear it, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Barty leaned forward slightly. "Reg..." He started.

Regulus ignored the warning. "You always act like you're better than me and I am sick of it."

James frowned. Regulus wasn't sure he'd ever seen it before, the way his usually bright expression contorted into something so wrong.

He had half a mind to apologise. After all, James probably didn't have a clue why he was so upset.

But then Sirius spoke up, and Regulus' anger only flared.

"Don't talk to him like that," Sirius demanded.

"You're defending him over me?" Regulus called, standing from his seat.

"Regulus." Barty’s tone was sharper now.

Regulus continued anyway. 

"I've been having to watch perfect Potter prance around by your side the last six years, Sirius. Just because he's popular and attractive doesn't make him a better brother than me!"

"Nobody said that he was," Sirius snapped, standing up as well. "And you've got no right to decide who I spend my time with!"

"I don't care who you spend your time with. I just don't get why it has to be him!"

"Where is this even coming from?"

"I don't like seeing you with him!" 

James stood suddenly, holding out a hand to each of them to get them to stop. He turned to Regulus, confusion and hurt behind his eyes. "I'm sorry if you feel left out, Regulus. That wasn't our intention." 

The next words that came out fell from Regulus' mouth before he had the chance to think them through. "I don't want your apologies, Potter. I want you to fucking notice me."

Another long beat of silence. James was watching him with wide eyes. 

"What?"

Regulus was too upset to turn back now. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep himself from doing anything stupid.

"You're always so fucking touchy with my brother, and I hate it. Why don't you ever look at me? Am I not good enough for you or something?" 

"That's enough." Barty stood and walked across the room, taking Regulus' arm. "We're leaving. Have a good night."

Barty dragged Regulus out of the room, shooting him a look that dared him to argue.

When they made it back to their dorm room, Regulus didn't hesitate to round on him.

"What the hell was that?"

Barty rolled his eyes, plopping down onto his bed. "You'll thank me for it later."

"No, the hell I won't. You know how much the two of them together irritate me. I'm offended you won't even let me stand up for myself!"

Barty sighed. "I'm not doing this with you right now."

"That's not your call to make. Not after you just dragged me halfway across the castle."

Evan walked into the room, looking concerned. "Are you two alright?"

"Regulus finally snapped at Sirius," Barty explained, shooting him a knowing look. "Because of Potter."

Evan nodded. "I see."

Regulus turned to glare at Evan now. "What? What do you see?"

Evan gave him a gentle smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be alright, Regulus. It's better you steer clear for a bit and let this blow over."

"What the hell are you two on about? Sirius replaced me with that- that idiot. Him and his stupid hair and charming smile. He thinks he's just so much better than me! Of course I'm going to be mad that he's trying to take my place!"

Barty and Evan stared at each other again, neither really seeming to care about the issue at hand.

"What aren't you telling me?" Regulus called.

Evan put on his best placating expression. "We understand you're upset, Reg. Really, we do. But it might not be the best idea to say all of this in front of the others."

"And why not?"

Evan hesitated, shooting a glance at Barty for help.

When Barty spoke, he sounded nervous. "It's just that... you're feelings are a bit mixed up right now, and-"

"Mixed up?" Regulus repeated, arms crossed over his chest.

"You always talk about how much you hate Potter for being so close to your brother," Evan said.

Regulus nodded for him to go on.

"But... that's not why you hate him... is it?" Barty asked. He said the words like he already knew the answer.

Regulus faltered. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Evan sighed again. "We weren't going to bring this up because neither of us wanted to upset you. But it's a little... well, it's a little obvious. We just don't want you to get hurt."

"Spit it out, Evan," Regulus hissed.

Barty cleared his throat. "We know that you're in love with Potter."

Regulus froze.

The earth around him halted beneath his feet.

What?

Evan continued hurriedly, "It's not that you aren't doing a good job at hiding it or anything. It's just that you always talk about him, and-"

Regulus held up a hand and Evan stopped talking immediately.

Is that what they thought? That he was... in love with Potter?

He tried to think of where it all came from. But the longer he thought about it, the less sure he was of his own resolve.

Yes, he hated Potter. 

He hated him for always being so glued to Sirius' side. He hated that he could never talk to either one of them alone. He hated that Potter was just always around. With his stupid energetic personality and careless laughter and beaming smile. 

Regulus hated the way Potter made his heart sink whenever their eyes met. And the way he could never go twenty seconds without being reminded of how perfect he was.

He hated that Potter never looked at him the way he looked at Sirius. That he never hugged him or laughed with him like they always did. He hated that he felt like second place. 

Shit.

Regulus was in love with Potter.

"Regulus?" Barty whispered carefully. 

Regulus shook his head. He didn't want to think about this anymore. The whole thing was hurting his head. 

There was a knock at the door and they all turned. 

"Reg?" The voice called. 

Regulus bit back a gasp. "Is that Potter? What is he doing here?"

Evan shrugged, but stood and made his way to the door. He opened it halfway. "How did you find us?" 

"Your um... your sister. Pandora." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I was hoping I could talk to Regulus?"

Evan glanced back, raising an eyebrow in question. 

Regulus was so nervous his hands were shaking. He nodded anyway.

Evan opened the door and stepped to the side to let him through. Potter's eyes wandered around the room for a minute.

His gaze came to a rest on Regulus, and Regulus swore his heart skipped a few beats. 

"Can we talk?" He asked slowly. 

Regulus swallowed hard. "Yeah... yeah. Guys? Do you mind giving us a minute?" Regulus asked, looking back towards Barty. 

Barty jumped off the bed and rushed to grab Evan's arm, towing him out of the room. 

"I came to apologise," James started once they were alone.

Regulus took a step forward, cutting him off. "No. Don't. It's my fault. I never should have reacted like that in the first place." 

James stared at him for a moment, weighing his next words. They came out on a hushed sort of whisper. Like they were a secret he'd never had to admit to before.

"I do see you, y'know."

Regulus froze. "You do?" 

"I see you. I always have." He closed the distance between them, reaching out to grab Regulus' hand. "Sirius is like a brother to me too. I know that's... hard. You shouldn't ever have to feel like you're being replaced. But I can promise you he loves you more than anything. And I-" He stopped suddenly. His eyes searching Regulus'. 

"Yeah?" Regulus prompted, his breathing heavier than normal. 

"I've spent all these years trying to figure out how to talk to you. I just... I never know where to start. But I see you. When you walk into the room it's like... I dunno, it's like everything else just goes away." 

Regulus' breath hitched. James reached out and took his other hand.

"Sirius is my brother. But you're... you're everything, Regulus," he whispered. 

Regulus closed his eyes for a moment, trying to give his brain a moment to catch up. Never, in all the years they'd known each other, had he ever once saw this coming. 

"I think I'm in love with you," Regulus blurted out. He didn't know why he said it. He knew how high the chance was that Potter would walk away and never want to look at him again. 

But Potter wasn't walking away. And he hadn't dropped Regulus' hands. 

"I think I'm in love with you too." 

Regulus opened his eyes again. "Really?" 

Potter nodded, leaning forward just enough that Regulus could feel the pull, the urge to close the gap between them completely. 

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, teeth worrying his bottom lip. 

Regulus could only take in a sharp breath, unable to find his voice. 

He let go of Potter's hands and wrapped them around his shoulders instead, pulling him closer. 

They kissed for what felt like an eternity. 

When they finally broke away, both of them were smiling. 

"So...?" James breathed. 

Regulus laughed. "So?" 

James' smile lit up brighter. "Would you like to be my boyfriend?" 

Regulus pretended to think about it for a moment. "If I say yes, does that mean I get to kiss you again?" 

Potter rolled his eyes. "Yes."

Regulus laughed again, holding him tighter. 

"Then yes."

[accio-sriracha]

The Summer We Fell

A Wolfstar Oneshot

They turned onto the Potter's street, Peter and Remus' heads sticking out of the window to get a good look as they pulled into the longest driveway either of them had ever seen.

"Is this a castle?" Peter asked quietly. "Prongs, do you live in a fucking castle?"

"Definitely not a castle, Wormtail, but it is home."

James and Sirius both hurtled out of the car as soon as they parked, racing each other to the front door.

Remus went to lift James' trunk, struggling for a moment before dropping it entirely. 

"Merlin, Prongs, what do you pack in this thing?" He shouted, cursing under his breath.

"It's the entirety of my good looks, Moony! It's extremely heavy!"

"More like the entirety of your ego!" Sirius shoved him, causing Mrs. Potter to sigh and call out after them to be careful.

Peter snickered as he helped Remus with the bags. "More like the entirety of his stupidity," he muttered.

Remus rolled his eyes, gesturing to James' heavy luggage. "Well, do you mind helping us out here? I was under the impression I was staying here as a friend, not a butler."

James jogged back and took his trunk, carrying it easily towards the house. "We're staying in the guest room with you guys. Dad set us up with two bunk beds."

"Oh, that's good. I was worried you'd send Pete and me to sleep in the oven," Remus quipped. James turned and narrowed his eyes at him.

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm, Moony. And to think I was just about to show you my bedroom!"

"Oh, piss off. We both know you're going to show me it either way," Remus laughed. 

James grinned. "It's the first one in the hall. C'mon."

He dropped his luggage off and grabbed Peter's hand, towing him along.

Sirius glanced at Remus, awkwardly holding out his hand as well. "Shall we?"

Remus took it. "Yeah, let's get this over with."

James' room was a mess. The walls were plastered with quidditch posters and every surface was cluttered with stuff. 

Sirius gestured to a muggle television on the entertainment stand. "Ever since he got that thing, he's been obsessed with this one racing game."

"Have not," James protested. 

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You have a lake on your property, and you didn't swim in it at all last summer."

"You have a lake?" Peter asked, his eyes wide. 

James rolled his eyes. "It's a small lake. It's not even that deep."

Peter leaned over to Remus. "Are we positive this isn't a castle?"

Remus hid a smirk behind the sleeve of his jumper.

"Anyways!" James called, trying to change the topic. "This is my room. You guys should see Padfoot's too. It's way cleaner than mine."

Sirius gave a nervous laugh, clearly less excited than James had been. "Sure. It's the next one over."

Remus smiled and reached out his hand, noticing his hesitation. "Let's get this over with, yeah?" He repeated.

Sirius smiled gratefully. "Yeah."

Sirius's room was much cleaner than the other two had expected.

The desk housed only two framed photos: one of the four of them and one of just Sirius and Remus at the Three Broomsticks.

Remus carefully let go of his hand, walking towards the desk to pick up the photo of them.

"Oh, that's nothing—" Sirius started, immediately reaching for it. Remus got it first. 

He froze when he realised what it was.

"This was the day we went to Hogsmeade together for the first time," he whispered. Sirius let his hand fall as Remus looked back up at him. "You kept this?"

Sirius shrugged again, his faux nonchalance less convincing this time. "I keep everything, you know that," he whispered. Remus could tell by the flicker of hesitation that it wasn't the full truth. 

"Yeah, but this." Remus lifted the photo.

"It was the start of a tradition, Moons. What can I say?" He laughed, a little nervously.

It was third year, just after they'd discovered Remus' secret. Sirius had taken him out to ease his mind and ended the night by asking Remus to dance with him. They have kept the tradition every year since, slow dancing in the three broomsticks to the same song.

Remus had no idea those nights meant something to Sirius too. 

They stared at each other in silence, neither of them knowing what to say.

"I'm going to go help mum with dessert. Wormy, you coming?" James asked, not-so-subtly trying to give them their space.

Peter nodded and followed him out of the room.

Remus looked at the picture again and couldn't help his smile.

It showed them holding each other, Sirius half dipping Remus in an awkward spin. Remus was laughing so hard his shoulders shook. He'd never seen himself looking so happy.

"It was one of the best days of my life," Sirius whispered.

They locked eyes again and something intense passed through the air between them. Remus wasn't sure if he just imagined it.

"Remus! Sirius! Dessert is ready!" Mrs. Potter called. 

"You're gonna love it," Sirius promised. 

Remus smiled. "I'll hold you to that, then." 

They walked down the stairs to the kitchen, finding the others standing around the counter. 

"I made Dorset apple cake. It just came out of the oven, so be careful when you eat it," Effie told them.

They all thanked her and waved goodbye as she left for the store. 

Peter and James finished theirs quickly and raced upstairs to James' room to turn on his new video game.

Remus hadn't touched his dessert yet, waiting for Sirius to finish searching for something in the fridge.

"Do you trust me?" He asked Remus.

"Depends."

"Just say you trust me and close your eyes."

Remus huffed and did as he said. "Fine, I trust you." He placed his hands over his face. 

He heard a cap flipping open. Sirius tapped him a second later. "Okay, you can look."

He opened his eyes and found Sirius' right away, watching the excitement behind them.

Remus' breath caught slightly at their closeness. Something about the way Sirius was staring at him made his chest tighten. 

"What?" He breathed. 

Sirius smiled. "Look down, you dorkface."

Remus looked down at his plate, finding the cake drizzled with chocolate syrup.

"Chocolate apple pie. I made Euphemia buy the syrup just for you." His eyes were bright and hopeful again. "What do you think?"

"Thank you." Remus looked back up at him, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat.

"You should try it before it gets cold." Sirius nudged him.

Remus nodded and begrudgingly tore his eyes away, focusing on his food again. 

Sirius sat down on the barstool beside him, watching his face. 

"Why are you staring at me?" Remus could feel his cheeks heat up.

"I want to see your reaction."

Remus chuckled softly and made a show of taking the first bite, planning on being sarcastic about it.

His plans were immediately foiled by the literal taste of heaven in his mouth.

"Oh, Merlin," he moaned, leaning back in his seat to enjoy the flavour. "This is so good."

Sirius was watching him with a new sort of rapt attention. Remus didn't care, scooping up more onto his fork as quickly as possible. 

He sighed when he finished the last bite.

"Fuck, Sirius. That was amazing, thank you."

Sirius' posture was rigid. His gaze had trailed to Remus' throat at some point. 

He made an odd, strangled noise. "I'm actually not hungry," he said suddenly. "You can have mine."

Remus waited until he knew Sirius was sure before sliding the cake onto his plate and carrying it with them up the stairs. 

When they walked into the room, Peter immediately raised an eyebrow.

"Everything okay?" He asked. 

Remus nodded, plopping down onto the beanbag chair beside him. "More than okay, this is the best thing I've ever had in my life."

Peter's eyes flicked back to where Sirius lingered at the door. 

He'd seen that expression many times before. Whenever Remus stretched and his jumper would come up, or when he mumbled a sleepy I love you to them all, and especially when he ate really good chocolate.

Sirius was falling hard for Remus.

They moved onto playing the game, and in the end, it was Peter who'd beaten them all and won the grand prize. 

Sirius excused himself while the others were bickering over a rematch.

It wasn't long before he found himself hiding in the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face and trying desperately to calm down. 

They hadn't even been here a full two hours yet and Sirius was already losing his shit.

He hadn't been expecting Remus to notice that photo so fast. Nobody knew the real reason why he kept it. Nobody knew that was the day he fell in love with his best friend. 

A knock at the door drew him out of his thoughts. 

"Padfoot? You alright?" 

Shit. It was Remus. 

He cleared his throat, aiming for casual. "Yeah! I'm— I'm great! Thanks!" 

There was a pause. The footsteps didn't retreat. 

"Are you sure?" 

Sirius mentally cursed. Remus could always tell when he was lying. He shook out his hands and walked over to unlock the door. 

Remus watched him with worried eyes. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," he lied again, because he knew he didn't have a good excuse. 

Remus frowned, his eyes searching Sirius' expression. 

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked carefully. Sirius could tell how hard he worked to keep the hurt out of his voice. 

"No— Merlin, Moony, of course not." He didn't think twice before pulling Remus into his arms. "You haven't done anything. I've just been... dealing with some stuff." 

"I'm here for you. If you ever want to talk about it." 

Sirius nodded. "I know." He leaned against his shoulder, hugging him tighter. "I know you are, Moons." 

Remus' hands gripped his waist a little tighter. "I love you," he whispered, the words spoken into Sirius' hair. 

Sirius let out a slow breath. "I love you too, Remus." 

And he meant it. With every inch of his being, he meant it. 

They all got ready for bed that night. Sirius collapsed onto his bunk, ready to pass out the moment he closed his eyes. 

But then— curse his life— Remus walked in. 

Sirius had spent nearly half his life sharing a dorm room with Remus. It wasn't unusual to find him stumbling into the room in nothing but pyjama bottoms, reading the same worn books he always read before bed. 

But something felt different here. 

Maybe it was because Remus had gotten so much more fit over the years. It had given Sirius a lot more muscle to pretend he wasn't staring at.

Maybe it was because this was the place Sirius had always considered home. And here Remus was, half naked and bloody gorgeous.

"Sirius," Peter whispered from the bottom bunk across the room. 

Sirius turned, trying to not be upset at missing the wonderful view. 

"You're staring," he mouthed, a knowing look in his eyes. 

Sirius froze. 

Was he that obvious?

He was just about to reply when Remus hissed his name. He motioned for Sirius to get out of bed. "Follow me."

Sirius walked into the hall after him, purposefully avoiding Peter's stare. 

"Do you mind?" Remus asked, gesturing towards Sirius' door. 

Sirius shook his head wordlessly, watching as Remus opened it and motioned for him to go in first. 

He walked to his bed, facing away from Remus for as long as possible to try to get his stupid traitor heart to calm the hell down. 

Then he heard the door click shut.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

"Can I ask you something, Sirius?" Remus whispered, his voice far lower than normal. 

Sirius swallowed hard. "Er... yeah. Okay." 

Remus laughed softly. "You want to look at me or should I just keep talking to your hair?" 

Sirius held back the retort on the tip of his tongue and turned around. 

Gods, he was so attractive. 

Remus was watching him with that earnest look again. He was still shirtless, pyjamas hanging low on his hips. His hair was still wet from the shower. 

"Are you okay?"

Sirius faltered. That wasn't what he was expecting. 

"Yeah, I'm—" 

"Sirius." Remus' tone wasn't sharp, but the word still cut through the air. 

Sirius knew that tone. Remus wasn't in the mood to play games with him. 

"I told you, I'm just... y'know." He gestured vaguely. 

"Dealing with something?" Remus repeated. He took a step closer. "I don't want to pry, Padfoot, but I can tell something's up with you. You hardly look at me anymore and whenever you do, it's..." He searched for the right word. "Intense." 

"Intense?" 

Sirius wasn't sure he wanted to know how pathetic he looked staring at Remus. He would guess somewhere between small child and lost puppy. 

"Can we talk about it? Please?" Remus asked. 

Another step closer. 

Sirius felt his breathing speed up. 

"Um... yeah," he muttered distractedly, taking a small step backwards. His legs hit the edge of his mattress and he knew he was fucked. 

Remus closed the space between them in two strides. Sirius was sure his heart was beating loud enough for Remus to hear it. 

Sirius curled his fingers against the blankets on his bed as if to anchor him. 

"What's really going on with you?"

Sirius stared up at him. Stared at the jagged scars running along his skin. The curve of his nose. The colour of his eyes. 

All the things that made him beautiful. 

"I... I'm worried," he admitted, trying to remember not to stare at Remus' lips. "If I tell you... I don't want you to hate me." 

"Hate you? Sirius, I could never hate you." He reached forward and placed a hand on Sirius' arm. "You can tell me anything." 

Sirius' entire being lit up at the contact. It wasn't unusual for them to touch each other casually. But everything in Sirius' brain was convinced that this wasn't just casual.

Sirius closed his eyes. For a moment, the whole room held its breath. He could feel the weight of the picture frame sitting not far from them. Taunting him. Reminding him of all the reasons he fell for Remus in the first place. 

"You would never look at me the same," he insisted, voice cracking. "Not after this." 

Remus' hand disappeared, and for a moment of blind panic, Sirius thought he was walking away. His eyes shot open to meet Remus' own. 

But then, cautiously, Remus tucked a strand of hair behind Sirius' ear. His eyes were full of unspoken thoughts, searching Sirius for something he wasn't sure he knew how to name. 

"I love you," he whispered. "I will always love you, Sirius. Nothing is going to change that." 

Sirius leaned into the touch, just slightly, just enough to feel the warmth of Remus' palm along his cheek. 

"I love you too, Remus." 

He closed his eyes again, needing the world to stop for a moment so they could stay just like this. 

"Sirius..." Remus breathed. 

His voice was so different it forced Sirius to look at him again. Remus was staring down at his lips, his own parted around the words he wasn't saying. 

"Yeah?" Sirius mumbled, letting his own eyes fall where he promised himself he wouldn't look. 

Remus' thumb traced along the line of his jaw, pausing just under his chin. He tipped Sirius' face up to look at him fully. 

"I love you." 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Sirius couldn't ignore the way he spoke the words. The depth behind them. 

Remus' gaze dropped again, watching as Sirius licked his lips nervously. 

Sirius' breath hitched. Disbelief and fear and everything he'd been pushing down melted into nothing but longing. 

"I—" He shook his head, none of the thoughts forming in his mind. "I thought that..." 

Remus' thumb brushed upwards against the corner of his mouth. "I know," he whispered. "I never... I never realised until..." He trailed off, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. 

Sirius reached out and grabbed Remus' waist, searching for anything to ground him in this moment. 

"I love you too."

Remus leaned back just enough to meet his eyes again. "Can I kiss you?" 

Sirius nodded breathlessly. "Yes."

Remus leaned in, moving his other hand to curve along the back of Sirius' neck, pulling him closer. 

They shared a single breath.

And then they kissed. 

[accio-sriracha]

A Goodbye?

Alright guys, this is going to seem abrupt but I have been thinking about it for a little while now

To all of the people on my phone: you're very special to me. You've gotten me through more than I can ever say. I have loved and laughed more because of you than I ever could have without you.

That being said, I'm going to move on from writing fanfic and from Tumblr as a whole.

As you might have noticed, I've been making some changes with my blog and posting a lot of oneshots...

The intention is to get through the majority of the 200 wips I have and turn them into oneshots for you guys to enjoy (dear god there are so many)

So you'll probably be seeing me for a bit longer as I sort it all out.

It's been a really long time, about nine years for me as a writer in this fandom and even longer as a reader.

This all started as a way for me to find some joy and peace in a life that hadn't been very kind to me. And I'm really proud to say that I found it. More of it than I could have ever hoped. All because of you.

It's also given me a lot of practice in writing. I'm going to put all of the hours I've spent here into my own projects. I've spent the last few years writing a few different books of my own, and I think it's time I make that a priority.

Needless to say, I'm happy. More than happy, I'm excited about my decision. I'm excited to move on and publish my own stories and enjoy the world outside of my phone.

So... I love you guys. I'll be around for a little while longer, so shoot me an ask or a message if you'd like.

Thank you, truly, for everything all these years. <333

Lots of Love,

-Sriracha.

(Just some tags under the cut)

@queselevaaser @what-would-sappho-do @whoopsiesnodaisies @equippedtolove @ephemeralstarss @regulusblxxk @theonyxstate @therealmoonagedaydream @the1970sdeadgaywizard-regulus @uhhlifeig @percyweasleyapologist @piratecore-art @aelia-posts @a-sunset-outside-my-window @stars-on-my-bedroom-ceiling @starman-waitinginthesky81 @silence-between-seconds @demigod-jack-hearth @garden-of-runar @hitmewithsomebooks @jam-pots @cryingoverdeadgaywizzards @bradleysass @bethany-the-shark-lover @bookwhoreeeeeeeeeeeeeeee @blackthornwine @mybelovedmoon @marsigolds @manysoup @moony-talks @my-castles-crumbling @thebibutterflyao3 @thatoldbooksmellsstuff @starkayezer @menwrittenbywomen @the-stars-drowning @mybelovedmoon @carated1317 @kiraandhervibes @maraudersmoo @made-by-moon

[accio-sriracha]

Wolfstar and the colour gold

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

They were golden.

Golden like the taste of warm tea and milk chocolate.

Golden like the feeling of the sun on their skin by the black lake.

Golden like forever young.

Like blissful ignorance, a peaceful world of just the two of them.

Like hope for a happier future somewhere far away. Somewhere in a cottage among nothing but fields. Somewhere the sun shined through the cracks in the curtains and bathed the room in light.

Golden like the glint of Remus' eyes when he got excited.

Golden like the switch of Sirius' jewellery to stay away from silver.

Golden like sunrise, high up on the astronomy tower, staring into each other's eyes.

Golden like the numbers on Sirius' quidditch jersey. The numbers Remus watched from the edge of his seat in the stands.

Golden like the bookmark Remus slipped between pages. The bookmark Sirius held to his chest as he listened to Remus' calming voice until he drifted off to sleep.

Golden like the bedsheets they laid on together, fingers interlocked and soft smiles on sleepy faces.

Golden like the doorknob that led to the shrieking shack.

Golden like the core of Sirius' wand.

Golden like the walls of their flat they shared together.

Golden like first and last love.

Golden like nothing could tear them apart.

[accio-sriracha]

A wolfstar microfic using the prompts: Fastidious, Hierarchy, Established, Opposed, Biased.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"What do you even see in him?" Lily asked as they made their rounds around the castle.

Remus shrugged. Taking his turn to kick the scrap of plastic they'd been hauling along with them.

"I don't know... He's kind. He's fastidious-"

"You did not just use fastidious in a sentence," she snorted.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying he pays attention. He cares enough to notice the little things about me. The other day he asked if I was okay because I was 'doing that thing with my hands again'. He's just... he's really sweet and I like how genuine he is."

"You do know his family is like the birthplace of the entire blood status hierarchy, right?"

Remus sighed. "He's not like them, Lils."

"How do you know? What if they're just using the fact that he got into Gryffindor to like... spy on the lesser people or something?"

"Do you hear yourself right now?" Remus laughed. "He's not a spy. He's actually a really good guy once you get to know him."

"Yeah, well you said that about Potter too and I think it's been clearly established that he's a bit of a ponce."

"James just likes you, he's not actually that arrogant," Remus countered. "But this isn't about him."

"You're right. I think you're too good for Black," Lily said, as bluntly as usual. "I know it's not what you want to hear, but it's true."

"As opposed to all of the other people you think I'm too good for?"

She stopped, turning to face him. The plastic lying forgotten in front of them.

"I'm not trying to be a pain, Remus. I just want the best for you."

"I know, but I'm telling you that this is what I want." He smiled at her. "I'm falling for him, Lily. Like... really falling for him."

Her eyes softened as she took in his expression. "Okay. Fine. I'll play nice, but only because he obviously makes you happy."

"So you'll come sit with us at lunch?" Remus asked, hopeful.

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't push your luck. You know how I feel about Potter."

"Yeah, and it's ridiculus, he's a really great guy."

"Well, you're biased. They've brainwashed you into liking him."

"Are we really still on that?"

"Yes, we're still on that."

They laughed and finished the rest of their rounds.

Remus took a deep breath. "I think I'm going to do it. I'm gonna tell Sirius how I feel."

Lily squeezed his hand, giving him a reassuring smile. "You'll do great. Good luck."

He nodded and kissed her cheek goodbye, rushing towards the Gryffindor tower to find Sirius.

[accio-sriracha]

James often lay awake into the early hours of the morning, unable to sleep.

He would get this feeling in his stomach. It was like a craving, something akin to nostalgia. He was missing something so badly it physically hurt.

It was strange, yearning for things he'd never actually experienced.

He couldn't explain it – not that anyone would listen if he tried – because he wasn't missing a what necessarily, but rather a who.

And worst of all?

The person he ached for so intensely?

His best friend's brother.

Yeah, go ahead and make that connection.

James hated himself, hated that he couldn't stop this desire, hated that he couldn't remember what it was like to not feel this way.

From the moment he'd laid eyes on Regulus he knew it would be impossible to look away.

And it was.

Parts of James felt like he'd been in love all his life. He knew Regulus inside and out already: how he liked his tea, how he played with the feather end of his quill while he studied, what kind of music he listened to when he was moody, who his favourite painters are, and his favourite types of chocolates.

James was obsessed, and that may have even been an understatement.

But he couldn't let anybody know.

And that may as well have been the death of him.

For years he let these feelings fester, with nowhere to go and nobody to talk to about them. They were bottled up and shoved down deep until it was almost painful just to think his name.

Until it wasn't.

Until the day Regulus kissed him under that mistletoe.

James swore if he hadn't already fallen in love, that was the moment it tripped him and landed him flat on his face.

Now, all these years later. He thought back to that moment under the mistletoe. To the moment he realised this wasn't a feeling he could ever make go away.

And he's glad. Through all of the nights of yearning. Through all of the mornings he woke up alone.

It led him to this. To Regulus in his arms. To laughter and love so strong it pushed every other thought from his mind.

James often lay awake, unable to sleep, thinking about how immensely grateful he was to every god that was out there for letting him find the love of his life.

And in the end, it was worth every second of pain.

[accio-sriracha]

In A World So Different

✧���⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Draco was— without exageration— absolutely enraged as he was greeted by the staff at the Ministry's ballroom.

It was his first time attending a public event since the war. He'd spent the last seven and a half years holed up in his flat in muggle London, changing the ways of the potions industry far from the eyes of The Daily Prophet.

He'd done wonders, really. He knew the extent of his work's benefit. And now he was beloved, in a way. He had been announced innocent and proven himself useful through his skills as a potioneer.

He'd made breakthroughs in those seven years that no potioneer could've dreamed of achieving in the last hundred.

Tonight he would not be Malfoy, son of a death eater, member of a loyalist family of scum.

Tonight he would be Potioneer Draco, renowned for his exceptional work, honoured at an invitation-only Ministry ball.

Tonight was his grand reentry into the Wizarding World.

So, as they took his coat and wished him a wonderful time, Draco lifted his chin higher, determined to let the papers show only dignity and poise on his expression.

In truth, Draco had never been more furious in his life.

These people had hated him, truly hated him, all those years ago. Now he was greeted with smiles and polite waves and kind gestures.

In the past he'd had wands held to his throat, sneers and glares and harsh words thrown from every direction.

And one of those very same people had just offered him a biscuit.

Draco was furious at this change.

Was that all it took for the public to change their opinion?

Draco knew it was his additions to their funding that brought these smiles, and he hated it.

Draco merely needed to benefit them, rather than keep to himself?

But he bowed his head politely, he accepted every outreached hand to shake firmly, he smiled his ever-so-dashing smile in return to each of theirs.

He would not allow them ammunition against him. Not now that he was finally here, finally respected.

It made his blood boil beneath his skin.

It was obvious that despite their respect, their hatred remained.

The way they turned to murmur after he passed, the way their hands squeezed just slightly too hard, the way their eyes crinkled a little too forcefully.

Draco was going mad with the fakeness of it all.

He didn't need their pitiful pretending.

As he spoke to perhaps the hundredth person to approach him in all of the twenty minutes since he'd arrived, the room fell eerily silent.

Draco thought it strange for a room full of chatty polititians and nosy journalists and self-centred public figures to fall silent.

So he turned, call it tasteless curiosity if you'd like.

And he would have, had it not been for the fact that he could quite literally hear a quill drop on the other side of the hall.

And that's when it happened.

The most recognised face of the entire Wizarding World stepped through those doors.

Draco could understand now why they had all fallen silent. Perhaps he felt his jaw slacken just the same as their own.

Harry Potter.

Potter was no longer awkward and quiet. His presence was demanding. Draco wondered how it was possible to feel someone's magical aura from such an impossible distance.

Potter was older, for starters. Draco knew that was to be expected, but after seven and a half years of avoiding any news from the Wizarding World, it had still come as quite a shock.

Yet there it was, strong, imposing. Potter's eyes cut through the room sharply, his brows furrowed behind crooked lenses.

At least that had remained the same.

His hair was tousled, much like Draco was used to, and peeking out from underneath it was the famous lightening bolt scar.

Draco felt a dozen memories settle deep into his chest. The very last he could recall of Potter was the worst of them all.

A bruised and far too thin body, hanging limp in a half giant's arms.

Eyes, bright and green and furious. Alert and very much alive, staring at Draco as Draco tossed him his wand; as he gave Potter his chance to fight, his chance to win.

And again, those same green eyes, similar in their fury, alight with passion at Draco's trial.

He would not condemn Draco for the horrors of his family. The Wizarding World was better than that, they would become better than that. And Potter would personally see to it that Draco received the justice he deserved.

He'd never seen Potter again after that trial.

It was partially of his own design, of course, refusing to look at any of the tabloids, disguising himself any moment he stepped outside of his home, hiding behind those walls for years, almost too many to keep track of.

But he did. He did keep track of them.

Because every year he spent changing the Wizarding World one discovery at a time, was another year he'd spent away from Azkaban.

He supposed he had Potter alone to thank for that.

"Is that Harry Potter?" Draco heard someone whisper from behind him.

Another voice from a balcony above seemed equally surprised.

"Harry Potter? At a ministry ball?"

These whispers were echoed around the room. Draco couldn't quite understand their shock.

Was Potter not a regular attendant of these events?

No... that didn't make sense. Draco's invitation had named the other famous guests that would be arriving. Potter's name had specifically been on the list.

This list, and every other event invitation he'd received in the last four years since he'd been welcomed back to the arms of the Wizarding World.

Potter's name was always there.

Why would he never show?

Was he too proud to show his chosen one face at such a lowly event like this one?

Draco rolled his eyes, accepting a glass of red wine from a waiter who had frozen in shock not far from him.

It was just like Potter to pull a stunt like this, to make himself seem desirable.

People parted quickly out of the way as Potter walked to the centre of the room. He was dressed in the standard gear of an auror, only his pin was different, gold instead of silver.

Of course. He was Head Auror now.

Draco had to stop himself from laughing aloud. He supposed it wouldn't have taken long for the Ministry to throw the position at his feet. He was surprised Potter wasn't already the Minister.

Potter stopped suddenly. His eyes still cut quickly across the floor, as though he was scanning for danger. Maybe he was.

Potter's eyes met his.

And they didn't look away.

Draco did his best to keep his composure.

Of course Potter's gaze would freeze on him, he'd been a practical recluse for nearly a decade. Obviously people would be curious as to what finally made him decide to show.

But Potter was still staring at him, the two men at his either side watching him in concern. They were dressed in suits.

Draco wondered if these were his body guards.

No, the longer Draco looked the more he noticed. Their hands were soft, unused to labour. Their eyes still bright, lacking the typical haunt of a man who'd seen too much in war.

Potter was their bodyguard.

Draco had to admit he was impressed Potter was asked to manage protecting both of them at once.

Though, he'd always been strong. Draco knew that. Not even time could erase the strength of Potter's magic.

Potter turned away, finally releasing Draco from the capture of his gaze, and spoke to the two behind him in low voices.

They nodded, leaving him to join a squad of Aurors. Draco nearly laughed at the amount of men they needed to compensate for him.

Draco watched, glass half raised to his lips, as Potter turned again.

Their eyes met, hazy silver to piercing green.

Draco couldn't look away.

Potter didn't either.

Potter's feet began to move again, ignoring the way people pushed themselves into his path, desperate to catch his attention.

And then Potter was standing directly in front of him.

Draco lowered his glass slowly.

"Potter," he greeted, because he wasn't sure what else to say.

He had been expecting it, anticipating the way Potter's horrifically fake smile would appear.

He hated the thought of Potter pretending to be his friend.

The nauseatingly passive aggressiveness in his voice as he asked him what he thought of the ball so far.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

But it didn't come.

Instead, Potter's eyes narrowed a fraction, suspicion playing out on every inch of his features.

The words stung Draco the same as if Potter had decided to strike him.

His voice was cold, far from indifferent, it was angry.

"I thought I'd enjoy the scenery," Draco replied, his own timbre was professional, detached.

How quickly they'd fallen into their old ways. Barely even minutes into seeing each other for the first time since they were kids, and Draco was already considering reaching for his wand in defense.

In truth, it was a bit of a relief.

It was something familiar. Something he could count on.

He was actually sort of... grateful to Potter for not putting on a show.

"Why?"

"You've never come to these," Potter reminded him, as if he'd needed the help. "Not once. Not in eight years."

The words caught him off guard. He wasn't aware Potter had been keeping track of the time Draco had spent underground.

"Seven," Draco corrected him. "And a half to be exact."

Draco had to hand it to him, the man knew how to get straight to the point.

He sipped from his glass again, leisurely this time, tauntingly. Potter would get nothing but indifference from him tonight.

"I believe I was invited."

"As I'm hearing, neither have you."

"You never seemed to care for that before." Potter's intense gaze wasn't letting up. Draco had no choice but to hold it.

This, finally, seemed to shake Potter for a moment. He hesitated, only briefly, but long enough.

Draco had spent his entire childhood watching those minute differences in his expression.

He'd had years to learn those small tells. Those fractions of seconds when the mask fell to reveal his intentions.

Potter was nervous.

Draco wondered why.

"Why do you care, Head Auror Potter?" He asked, his tone neutral, relaxed even. "Doesn't a famous wizard like yourself have better things to worry about than the drowsy affairs of a potioneer?"

Potter picked up his mask again. "Why hide for that long? Why bother showing your face now?"

He rose a single, manicured eyebrow. "Is that what you believe, Potter?" He asked.

"You're not some stuffy cauldronhead, Malfoy," Potter hissed, his voice intense again.

Draco felt his heart flutter.

He never thought Potter cared. Certainly not enough to compliment him.

Potter stepped closer, his eyes dropping to Malfoy's dress shirt, to the rings on the hand that held the wine glass, up to his hair, which he'd spent nearly an hour on.

He wasn't sure if Potter was assessing him or checking him out.

Either way, Draco had nothing to hide.

That's when it hit him.

Draco knew he looked good. He'd made sure of it.

This was his grand reveal, after all.

"You're only here because you heard I came," Draco whispered. The realisation made his thoughts falter. "That's why your name was on every invitation... but you never showed up until I did."

Potter didn't hesitate this time, but Draco could tell it was true.

"Just answer the question, Malfoy."

"Answer mine and I'll consider it," Draco replied cooly. "Why do you care."

But then Potter did something surprising, something neither of them had managed to do in all of their years of fighting each other.

They were at a standstill. Draco knew this was the point neither of them would back down until lines were crossed. Lines he had hoped would never be reached again.

They would stand here, arguing, spitting insults at each other until one of them pulled their wand first.

And then they would duel.

Malfoy carefully set down his glass, preparing himself to draw at any moment.

He backed down first.

"I needed to see you," he confessed.

There was something different in his voice now. Draco couldn't pinpoint what it was.

With age came... complexities.

Potter might as well be a whole new person.

"Well, now you've seen me," Draco whispered, he wouldn't admit that it took a minute to find his voice. "Why is it that you're the only one who can look me in the eye?"

But he wasn't. Draco knew him just as well as he did all those years ago.

He could read Potter like a book. That scared Potter. He was terrified of Draco finding out all of the things that went on in his head.

Draco wondered when he'd gained so many secrets.

Regardless, it worked out in his favour.

The fear of being vulnerable was just enough for Potter to back down before they caused a scene.

Draco cleared his throat, trying to get his thoughts back in order.

Potter was the first one tonight to be real.

It was an obvious question, rhetorical almost. He'd meant it as a compliment.

Potter seemed to know what Draco's implications were. His voice was softer when he replied,

"They're afraid of what they see when they look at us. What we remind them of."

Draco didn't miss the us in his statement.

And there was a certain sadness to Potter's voice as he said it.

Potter was telling the truth. They weren't people to the rest of the Wizarding World. Not really. They were reminders. Ghosts. Nothing more than a memory that everyone else would rather forget.

"Since when have you and I ever been an us?"

Draco could recognise loneliness better than anyone. He wondered if that's why Potter sought him out tonight, to find someone who would finally be real.

He wondered if, even though Draco had been the one in hiding all those years, Potter felt just as withdrawn as he did.

Draco's words came without malice. Potter's seemed to lack their usual venom as well.

"Since when have you ever refused to draw your wand?"

Potter was right, he would have to admit that. Draco was impressed himself that his wand had stayed neatly in his pocket, his fingers hadn't so much as twitched towards it despite the heat of Potter's glare.

"I came because I was tired of hiding," Draco answered him. He tilted his chin up just slightly, a reminder to himself and to Potter that he was better now, stronger than before.

"Good." Potter gave a silent sigh, his eyes darting around to the room full of cameras pointed their way. "You deserve to be seen."

So Draco did something very, incredibly stupid.

The words surprised Draco. Potter seemed to really mean it.

"Is that truly the only reason you're here today, Potter? To see me?"

Potter hesitated again, his lips tipping up in something dangerously similar to a smile.

"I was never one for parties anyway."

And that was all the confirmation Draco needed.

Potter was here to see him.

He didn't care about the hoards of people toppling over each other to get a chance at talking with him. He didn't care about the fame or the publicity. He didn't care about the photo ops or the women dressed in gowns more expensive than Draco's rent.

He cared about Draco.

He held out his hand.

"They're playing my song, Potter," he spoke the words like a challenge, like this lighthearted banter was all that had ever existed between them. "Would you care for a dance?"

Potter stared at his hand for a long moment before he glanced up again, meeting Draco's eyes.

"It would be a shame to waste such a nice suit on such a boring night, wouldn't it?"

Draco felt a the beginnings of a true smile playing out on his own lips. "I believe it would be."

Potter took his hand. An action that felt like it could remove every trace of rivalry left between them.

He led Draco to the to the middle of the floor.

And they danced.

[accio-sriracha]

He Who Falls Shall Not Rise.

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

"James Potter?" Regulus whispered, staring at the mess of black curls in front of him. "You're Sirius' friend, right?"

The boy turned, a curious spark in his eye and glasses that slipped to the edge of his nose.

"Yes I am." His eyebrows furrowed. "You're Regulus Black." It wasn't a question.

Regulus nodded, surprised.

"Sirius told me a lot about you," he explained, cheeks going red. "You have the same features."

"Oh." Regulus wasn't sure what else to say.

James cleared his throat, adjusting the stack of books in his arms. "Would you like to come with me to the library? I was just about to return some charms books. Maybe I could show you around?"

Regulus nodded eagerly. "That'd be great, actually. Thanks."

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

"Regulus? Are you home?" Narcissa called, her voice gentle as always.

Regulus shook the thoughts from his head. They were so young then, barely even aware of what was going on in the world around them.

"I'll be down in a moment," he replied, wiping the tears from his face.

He thought about Narcissa, about how content she was in her life. Her son was... what? One? The time flew by too fast to keep track.

"Hello," he greeted politely as he walked down the staircase, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

In truth, he'd never been more desperate in his life.

Desperation was a funny emotion, it made you do things, horrible things, that you never would have imagined yourself being a part of.

Like what he was about to do now.

"Are you okay?" She whispered. "You look pale, dear."

He nodded curtly, the letter from Remus sitting like a stone in his pocket, weighing down his every move. He'd read its contents a hundred times before he really processed it.

Sirius was in Azkaban.

James Potter was dead.

"Good morning, Regulus!" Andromeda called, flourishing herself through the door. Her voice was... not so gentle. Her words echoed loudly through the large, empty house.

There was nobody left but him.

Grimmauld Place had always been old. Dusty. Before he had always considered that to be a part of its charm, as though it's age made it grander in a way.

Now it felt... wrong.

"Who's this?" Andromeda asked, pointing to a photograph on the wall. He had just put it up it this morning. Regulus' chest grew tight.

"Good morning, Andy." He nodded back at her.

He wasn't sure he could stand another second of this. The pretending. The casual greetings as though his entire world hadn't just caught fire.

"Sirius' friend," he whispered.

He hated that it was all he could say about James. The love of his life. The man who saved him before he even realised he was in need of saving.

Now he was nothing but a photograph on the wall.

At the mention of Sirius' name, both of their heads whipped towards him. They must have heard the news this morning as well.

Sirius had turned out just like Bellatrix after all.

Regulus refused to believe it, refused to believe his only brother could ever do something like that. Especially to someone like James.

Regulus' breathing felt shallow. He wished he would have been given the chance.

Everyone knew how much they loved each other, how willing Sirius would have been to die for him.

How willing they both were to die for James.

"Regulus... are you sure you're alright?" Narcissa asked again.

"He's dead." The words left his mouth before he could stop them. "The man in the photograph. He's- He's dead."

Narcissa leaned down to get a better look. She gasped. "It's Potter." She shot a look at Andromeda. "That's the man that Sirius-'

"Stop," Regulus cut her off, tears threatening to spill over. "Please don't say it."

Narcissa didn't waste any time pulling him into a hug. She pet his hair gently, apologising in a whisper against his ear.

Andy walked past them to the dining room. "Maybe we should sit down and chat, yeah?" She offered, pulling out a chair.

He nodded and sat down with them, trying to control his breathing.

"I-" He cleared his throat. "James is gone." He tried to explain but couldn't get his voice to work.

"What happened, Regulus?" Andy asked, reaching across the table to place a hand over his own. Her nails were coated in fresh polish. It must have been done this morning.

Regulus wondered if she'd gotten them after she heard the news.

He wondered if she sat in some salon, knowing her cousin would rot in Azkaban just like her sister does.

"Yes," Narcissa spoke, nodding sympathetically. "He is. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Andy's eyes turned curious. "I wasn't aware you two were friends."

"Were you... more?" Narcissa asked carefully.

Regulus gave a humorless laugh. "Friends," he repeated, his voice raw.

He thought back to the day he told Sirius he was in love with his best friend, and again to the day James told him he loved Regulus too.

"You were, weren't you?" Andy leaned back against her chair, resting her hands on top of her head. "We had no idea."

Regulus looked away. He knew how sensitive the topic was with his family. He'd seen it with Sirius, when he'd first confessed to being in a relationship with Remus.

They were... divided, for lack of a better word, on the topic of homosexuality.

Regulus knew these two women beside him would give him no trouble.

But he also knew how unfamiliar it was for them. He didn't have enough time to brace himself for their reactions.

Regulus nodded. "We preferred it that way. The only people who knew were Remus and-" He broke off, not wanting to see them react to his brother's name again.

"So you and Potter... you loved each other." Narcissa held his other hand. "There's nothing wrong with that, dear."

Regulus laughed again, closing his eyes and tilting his face towards the ceiling.

"Believe me, there's plenty wrong with it, Cissy."

"Regulus, It's okay. Neither of us are going to judge you for-" Andy started.

"No, it's not okay!" He exploded, pushing back from the table. "He's dead, Andy!"

"I-" He couldn't keep the tears from falling now. "I miss him." His voice broke on the last word.

They stayed silent, he could feel their shock from his outburst.

He was usually the calm one.

Now... he couldn't see himself ever being calm again.

He couldn't see himself being anything again.

Not without James.

"Regulus, I'm so sorry," Narcissa whispered, rubbing his back.

"I don't need you to feel sorry for me." He pulled her hands away. "Feeling sorry won't bring him back."

Andy's expression immediately grew suspicious. "Regulus..." She started.

He shook his head. "No. Please, I- I can't lose him." He turned and grabbed a book from the shelf, the one full of dark magic spells, and placed it on the table between them. "Please. I never ask you for anything. I never ask you to do these spells for me, but please-"

Narcissa understood now, shaking her head. "No, Regulus. You know we can't do that."

"Why not!" He shouted, taking a step backwards. "I love him! I- I can't just let him go. I need to do something, I need to try!"

Andy sighed, pushing the book away from them. "It's too dangerous."

"I can't just sit here and do nothing! Please! I- I'll do anything you ask me to. I'll be in your debt for the rest of my life just please! Please, open the damn book and try!"

"Regulus," Narcissa's voice was stern now. "You cannot bring him back. He's gone. I'm sorry but... he's gone."

Regulus shook his head, sliding the book back to the edge of the table and flipping through the pages blindly. "No I- I've seen you do it, I know you can do it. You have to!"

"I don't care what he comes back as! I don't care, I don't care! I just need him back! Please just do it. I know you can do it, please just fucking bring him back!" He could feel his heart pounding, he was mere seconds away from getting on his knees and begging them to try.

Andy grabbed his hand to stop him. "Even if we do bring him back it won't be Potter. He'll come back as- as something else. It won't be him."

"Regulus! We can't!" Narcissa shouted, her voice more upset then he'd ever heard it.

"You have to-" He started.

"But we can't." She sighed and closed the book. "I'm sorry."

Regulus let out a wordless, angry shout and threw the book against the wall, watching it hit the ground with a loud thud.

"Regulus-" Andy stood up from the table.

Regulus slammed his hands down, rounding on Narcissa. "You don't want me to be happy, is that it? You're just angry that I found someone who really loves me. You're jealous that someone actually cares! You and Lucius don't love each other and we both know it-"

"Regulus!" Andy called.

He ignored her. "You're just jealous, Cissy. You could never handle the fact that maybe I'm not like you! Maybe I'm broken... and flawed. Maybe I'm not the perfect heir to the black family throne like you thought I was. That I was capable of finding my own fucking personality, that I chose to be with someone for love and not blood status. Maybe I was never like you. That's why you're doing this, isn't it? Because you're angry I'll never be that perfect kid again."

Tears streamed down his face, soaking the collar of his shirt. He couldn't care less, he was angry, more angry than he'd ever been before. "If you won't help me, I'll do it myself."

"Remus," he breathed, whipping around to face him.

"Reg, stop." A voice came from the doorway. It was patient, kind, worried.

Regulus would know that voice anywhere.

"How did you-" Regulus shook his head. "How did you find me?"

"You need to stop, Reg." His voice was gentle. His eyes were full of understanding.

Regulus knew Remus was feeling everything that Regulus was.

The depths of loss were etched into his expression. He looked broken. Regulus imagined he looked the same.

"I came to collect some of Sirius' things." He didn't seem to miss the flinching from Regulus' cousins at the name.

Narcissa walked across the room to pick up the book and put it away, trying to play off her shudder.

Regulus walked up to him then, and for the very first time since they met all those years ago, he hugged him.

Remus sighed. "I'm sorry. Really, I-" He looked away. "I can't imagine how much pain you're in, Reg."

"I'm sorry, Remus. I know you loved him too."

Remus nodded, pulling away. "I do. But we can't bring him back. It's wrong, Reg. You know it is. They're just trying to protect you."

Andy walked up behind him and placed a hand on Regulus' shoulder. "I would do anything for you. But I can't do this. I'm sorry."

He turned to face his family, watching the emotions swirling on Narcissa' face, the guilt on Andy's.

"I know." He brushed away the last of his tears. "I know." He looked at Narcissa. "I didn't mean it, the things I said to you... I'm sorry."

She smiled softly at him, he could see the pain behind it still. "It's okay, Regulus. I know you're hurting right now. I promise, it will get better."

Regulus took a deep breath. "I hope so," he whispered.

Remus patted his shoulder once, walking past them to the stairs, heading for Sirius' old room.

"Remus," he called.

Remus turned. "Yeah?"

"Maybe you should join us tomorrow for lunch. I think it'll do us all some good to have company."

It was a long time before Regulus' anger subsided.

Remus glanced at Andy and Narcissa, his expression was reserved, but he nodded anyway. "Okay."

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

The grief never fully went away, he wasn't sure it ever would. But he was happy now, he was capable of feeling happy, something he didn't think he'd ever feel again.

"Can you believe Sirius was only four in this photo?" Cissy laughed, showing the old album to Remus. Sirius was flying around on a toy broom, knocking into things Regulus knew would get him into huge trouble for later.

Remus laughed, and the sound gave Regulus hope. One day, Sirius and Remus would be together again. He hoped he would be there to see it.

Remus checked his watch and stood. "I'm late for an order meeting, I'll see you all tomorrow?"

They nodded, waving goodbye as he made his way to the door.

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

He would never quite be whole again without James, but he would survive, and that was enough.

It had to be.

[accio-sriracha]

The Little Things.

The pull strings for their dorm's ceiling light are tied up shorter to accommodate Remus' height.

They charmed the window so James' side of the blinds are always opened and Sirius' side are always closed.

Peter has chalkboard he pinned to the wall for all his daily reminders, though he'll almost always walk up to little notes from the others reminding him how loved he is.

They convinced the house elves to prepare meals full of protein on the nights following the full moon, Remus is still oblivious but is always grateful for the extra meat.

Peter hates crust on his sandwiches, luckily that's James' favourite part. They don't even have to talk about it anymore, James will just take the crusts from him every morning.

James doesn't actually care much for the crust, he just loves to see Peter's smile.

Sirius hates his bed being made because childhood trauma tm, so anytime the house elves make it the others purposefully mess it up before he sees.

Sirius peels everyone's oranges at the table because that's how he shows his love.

Remus reads before bed every night, sometimes when they've all had a hard day he reads aloud until the others fall asleep.

James will sometimes turn into a stag to amuse the others when they're sad, mostly in the confines of the dorm (but sometimes not, they've had some close calls)

Peter can't swim, so the others take turns letting him piggyback on them when they spend a weekend in the black lake.

James' mum invites them to stay literally every single break. Sirius is the only one who does, but the offer always warms Remus and Peter's hearts.

The Marauders spent a weekend exploring london once when James finally learned how to apparate. He brought them to all the wizarding places he used to go as a kid since none of the others got to.

The closer they got to graduating the more of a mess James always was, there were many days the others would need to carry him down the hall to their next class from how hard he was crying.

After every full moon when Remus finally got to sleep in his own bed, he found his nightstand covered in chocolates and his favourite books.

Whenever Sirius recieved a letter from home the others would take turns reading it in ridiculously dramatic voices until they could get him to smile.

Whenever any of them would get made fun of they would incite a game they called "the roasting party" where they would all take turns making fun of each other and laughing until none of it hurt anymore.

Every Christmas they exchanged secret Santa presents and every year Sirius went last so he could watch the fear on their faces when they realised who drew their name. (He was well known for his gag gifts)

Remus always knew he wanted to be a professor when he grew up, but he never thought it would be possible because of his condition. So for the final week of Seventh year the rest of the Marauders convinced all of the staff to refer to him ONLY as Professor Lupin just to see him smile.

[accio-sriracha]

Sirius took one look at Remus and thought this was the man he will love forever

Remus took one look at Sirius and thought Merlin, where the hell is his aspirin

[accio-sriracha]

They've escaped their enclosure

(Barty's shirt says Kiss Boys, Not Boots btw)

[accio-sriracha]

James: Y'know, assisted suicide should really just be called consensual murder.

Remus: *trying to study* Please stop talking.

Sirius: That sounds like a kink, Prongs.

Peter: *100% asexual* Hang on... I think I might actually be into sex now.

Remus: Please stop talking.

[accio-sriracha]

Remus' only thought as he watched Sirius fall through the veil, the only reason he didn't collapse in anger and fear and everything he felt Harry going through as he struggled in Remus' arms, was a simple one.

At least he didn't die alone.