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nikolai-alexi · 1 year

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Jegulus Mini Fic #3

WC: 6035 words, average read time ~40mins

CW: symptoms of GAD that are commonly associated with EDs, mild description of vomiting, brief mention of a self-destructive stims, detailed descriptions of overstimulation, mentioned use/overuse of magical stimulant and negative side effects, sensory overload + issues, descriptions of violence to a briefly mentioned character, ftm trans character, mentions of top surgery and hysterectomy.

There are days when James rolls out of bed that he really, really wishes he could just stay curled under the duvet and pretend the day didn’t exist. And from the second he opened his eyes this morning, it was going to be one of those days.

Days like this, where his skin feels too tight over his bones, and everything around him feels way too sharp but so dull at the same time, he has a hard time looking at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t like to see the haunted look behind his own eyes. He feels like an imposter.

It’s not like he’s sad, okay? He’s just…not happy today. It’s 7th year, NEWTs are breathing down all of their necks, the war is brewing quicker every day, and he’s just under a lot of pressure. That’s all. It’s not like he has any real excuse to be bothered. It’s fine. It’s just a day, he’ll get through classes, sneak in a few cigarettes and cheering charms to keep his friends from worrying, and then see Reg tonight and it’ll be fine.

He finally forces himself to look up into the mirror and nods firmly to himself. It’ll be fine. He practices his smile in the reflection before dragging himself into a shower before the other lads wake for the morning scramble before breakfast. He’s never more thankful for being an early riser than he is on days like this; well, actually, that might be a lie, he’s also very thankful for his early rising the mornings after a party, when he gets to be the one to wake all his hungover friends with a cool glass of water, exceptionally greasy food, and a hangover potion. They never fail to bitch and whinge about it, but he knows they’d be hopeless without him. The thought makes a small, but genuine smile flutter across his lips for a brief moment. That’s good, he thinks, maybe there’s hope for the day after all.

There is not, in fact, hope for the day.

By the time he and the lads get down to the Great Hall for breakfast, James has already had to hit himself with three separate cheering charms to keep appearances up and he’s starting to feel the effects of it. There’s sweat pooling around his shirt collar and it feels like sandpaper rubbing against his skin. His right eye is twitching every few minutes. His tie feels like it’s choking him and his hands are violently shaking every time he pulls them out of his trouser pockets. The noise in the hall is overwhelming and ricocheting inside his skull like a fucked up mockery of the muggles’ pinball arcade game. He can’t focus on anything other than the way his skin feels like it’s buzzing and the nauseating feeling of eyes on him. Merlin, how he hates this. He wants to rip his hair out by the roots, if for nothing else, to have something else to focus on.

Eating, is a hurdle of an entirely different kind.

His stomach feels like it’s lodged in his throat, but simultaneously also feels as though it’s being weighed down with lead. The smell of all the food around him makes him viciously nauseous, but he knows he needs to eat something. His friends are used to him working up quite the appetite from his sunrise Quidditch drills, so he needs to have some sort of excuse ready for when they inevitably ask him about his apparent lack thereof.

It’s Peter who starts the line of questioning. James isn’t surprised, Pete’s got a sharp eye for everything. Nothing gets past him.

“Y’alright, mate?” He asks, when James makes no move to add anything other than a piece of toast to his plate.

James shoots him a bright grin that feels entirely false on his face, “‘Course, Wormy!” he says, “Why’ja ask?”

Peter grins back at him and gestures to his plate, “You don’t seem to have much of an appetite this morning, just wanted to make sure, yeah?”

James’ false grin slips into a crooked little smile. Selfishly, he really liked when his friends showed they were concerned for him. He liked the warm feeling it gave him when they let him know he could tell them if something was wrong. He wouldn’t, of course, tell them. He refused to burden them with something so trivial as a bad day, but he liked to know the option was there. If he wanted it, which he did, even if he wouldn’t take them up on it.

“Nah, no reason to fret, I snagged a miniature feast from the kitchens before coming back to the tower this morning. Ran more drills than usual and I didn’t want to wait for you lazy sods to get out of bed while I was hungry,”

The lie tastes like ash on his tongue, but it comes easily enough. Peter is chuckling and shaking his head at his theatrics, Remus is rolling his eyes, and Sirius balls up a serviette to throw at his head. They’re always easily distracted when presented with an opportunity to tease him about something.

“Merlin damns the day that lazy sods like us keep a hangry James from his breakfast, eh Moony?” Sirius barks out. James retaliates with a serviette of his own, and lands it right in the middle of Sirius’ porridge. The offended glare he gets in return makes a smug little grin appear.

“Right you are, Pads, think I heard once that Circe herself once condemned a man fool enough to try and delay our dearest Prongs from brekkie after Quidditch,”

“Oi!” He protests in mock offence, “I’m not that bad, you rotten bastards,”

That makes all three of them nearly snort with laughter. He is absolutely that bad and they all know it, but he’ll proclaim innocence on the matter every time anyways. And he pretends not to know that they carry snacks with them everywhere they go, just like he carries chocolate for Moony, just in case he gets a bit hangry every now and again.

Thankfully, the lads are sufficiently reassured and redirected after that, moving on to whinge at the dreadfully long essay for DADA that only Remus and James had started, but were nowhere close to finishing and the upcoming Hogsmeade trip.

He manages to choke down his singular piece of toast and gulp down a glass of water, but he already knows it won’t be staying down. His stomach is cramping ruthlessly and he wants to slam his forehead into the wooden table. Classes haven’t even started for the day and he already isn’t sure if he can do this. It’ll be fine, he thinks, it’ll have to be fine. He can spin his mates a lie they’ll believe, but apparently, he’s proper shit at lying to himself.

When they finish breakfast and head to their first class of the day, History of Magic, thank Merlin, James is able to nip off to the lav with minimal fuss and an assurance of meeting the lads in the classroom when he’s finished. As soon as their backs are turned, he’s booking it for the nearest loo before his singular piece of toast makes its re-emergence from his stomach right there in corridor. He’s already kneeling in front of the toilet, a hasty locking charm thrown over his shoulder, when his body rebels against him.

He’s not paying attention to anything other than his own misery while his body shakes and retches, so when a pair of hands settle gently on his back, he flinches against them.

“Easy, Darling, it’s just me,” And he’d know that soft baritone voice just about anywhere, no matter what was happening. It’s easy for him to relax into Regulus, his side pressing against Reg’s front with his knees pulled tightly into his chest, still shaking with the aftershocks of his stomach turning inside out.

He’s vaguely aware that he’s crying, but he can’t spare the thought to be concerned about it when Reg’s cold hands feel like salvation against his overheated skin. He would very much like to simply bury himself in those hands, thank you. Regulus seems to know exactly what he wants, because he sweeps a hand from James’ cheek to the back of his neck and brings their faces together until they’re resting their foreheads against each other. James can feel Reg’s breath tickle his nose, and unconsciously begins to settle his own hiccuping, gasping breathing to match.

It’s an indiscernible amount of time before James is able to pry his gritty eyes open to meet Regulus’. There’s so much worry, anxiety, and endless amounts of love reflected in those eyes that James feels like he may be sick again from it. He has to squeeze his eyes closed again, feeling more tears leak out the corners, and he begins rocking back and forth. How could he put this on Reg? How selfish was he? Regulus had so much more on his plate than James would ever have; abusive parents, being forced into taking the mark and becoming a spy, trying to mend his relationship with his brother, hiding his relationship with his brother’s best mate, trying to keep himself, Evan, and Barty alive despite every contrary effort by the latter two, keeping his grades afloat, and captaining the Slytherin Quidditch team. There was no way James could add more hippogriff shit to Reg’s already overflowing plate. He refused to. He’s not really aware of his arm coming up and bringing his palm to the side of his head repeatedly, but he does feel it when Regulus catches his wrist and brings his hand to rest at the base of Reg’s neck and bury his fingers in the curls that rest there. He doesn’t even think about not winding the hair around his finger repeatedly, until the weight on his chest lets up a little bit. It’s only then he opens his eyes again. He searches intently for any signs of anger or annoyance he thinks should be in those ice blue eyes, but all he finds is love and concern. He wants to close his eyes again, but he knows he won’t.

“There you are,” Regulus breathes, relief coating his words. He twists to his school bag, pulling out a few vials of potions from within it.

“For your nausea,” he says softly, uncorking the vial and gently tilting it into James’ mouth.

He wants to feel slightly embarrassed about it, but his hands are still trembling as bad as Sirius’ or Regulus’ do after a conversation with their mother, so he’s under no illusions that he would most certainly drop any potions vial he was handed. And honestly? He welcomes the relief of an anti-nausea potion. He feels miserable.

Regulus grabs the next vial, an aquamarine blue potion that James would know in his sleep with the amount he’s taken them in the last few years. He’s still grateful when Regulus mumbles, “Calming Draught,” before he pours it into James’ mouth.

Next is a dark green potion that would have James scowling petulantly if he had the energy for such a thing. He detests Nutrient Potions. Regulus rolls his eyes like he knows exactly what James is thinking, which, let’s be real, he probably does, and says, “Only half of this, I promise. You just need something in your stomach,”

He lets out a pathetic little whinge, but doesn’t try to fight it when Reg holds it up to his mouth. He does, however, make a nasty face at it. Reg huffs a little laugh before directing a soft Aguamenti charm into his mouth to wash away the aftertaste. Merlin, James thinks, he’s the best secret boyfriend anyone could ever hope to have.

The last vial Regulus has is another green potion, but this one is a bright, almost neon, green and James understands why the Nutrient Potion was necessary. Headache Remedies are nasty business taken on an empty stomach, he knows that from firsthand experience and he’d like to never repeat that particular hell ever again.

“See?” Reg teases, a wry grin on his face, “I don’t always torture you for no reason,”

James huffs a little bit, more on principle than anything else, but Reg seems to understand exactly what he means without needing him to come up with the words to say it.

“Last one, yeah? Then we’re getting off the lav floor,” James nods, not really wanting to move, but knowing he probably should.

The Headache Remedy goes down much easier than the Nutrient Potion did, and he starts to feel the results of the potions almost immediately. The pounding pressure against his temples recedes, his stomach feels like it’s back in its anatomically correct spot, his hands are still shaking a bit but they’re better than they were, and his bloody eye has finally stopped twitching. He breathes a sigh of relief, he truly hadn’t realised just how awful he was feeling until now. It’s a rather sad thing to realise that he feels the best he’s felt all day after having a complete breakdown on a lav floor.

Regulus hauls them both up, casting heavy cleaning charms at both their clothes, scooping both their bags off the floor, and steering them to the sinks. It takes a bit of manoeuvring, but he somehow manages to get James sat up on one of the sinks. James’ glasses are snagged off his face with a deftness only a Seeker could have and tucked gently into the pocket of Reg’s robes. He conjures a soft terrycloth rag and wets it in the faucet, bringing it to James’ face, not wiping, but pressing the cold cloth to the undersides of his eyes.

“It’ll get rid of the puffiness,” he explains. He quirks a sardonic smile at James, pulling the rag away from his face, wringing it out, and refreshing the chilled water on it again, “The only good thing about masquerading about as a woman for a decade and change is knowing all the secrets to having a breakdown and coming out the other side looking better than you did before,”

That punches a pathetic little laugh from James’ chapped lips, but the spark that lights up in Regulus’ eyes at the noise makes him feel like he’s just been wrapped in a blanket with how the warmth encases him.

Regulus takes his time, pressing the cloth to the swollen undersides of James’ eyes, wiping the gritty tear tracks from his cheeks, and sliding the rag around his neck and the accessible parts of his collarbone to rid the sweat that had adhered itself to his skin. He regaled James with soft murmurs of castle gossip, student dating drama, something interesting he’d found in a new potions journal he read over the weekend, the latest disaster Evan and Barty had gotten themselves into, anything and everything he could think of. James would occasionally hum an acknowledgment or huff with a bit of laughter or indignation, but for the most part, he simply sat there on the sink with his head leaned back onto the mirror and his eyes closed. He looks exhausted. Regulus wishes, not for the first time, that he could take away everything and anything that ever made James feel like this.

He knows James is coming out of this episode when his eyes slowly open and he blinks rapidly, as if coming out of a daze. He lifts his head from the mirror and looks around owlishly until Regulus perches his glasses back on his face. When his eyes focus back in, James makes a peculiar face. His nose scrunches up and his lip curls in a poor imitation of a sneer, before he gracelessly folds in on himself and plops his head onto Regulus’ shoulder.

“Ugh.” He groans. Regulus chuckles, but doesn’t respond. Just threads his fingers into James’ wild hair and holds him.

When they part, James avoids his gaze, and his dark skin is flushed. He’s embarrassed. Regulus really isn’t sure why he’d be embarrassed, because James has been in the exact opposite position for some of Regulus’ own historical blubbering breakdowns, and he is not a pretty crier.

“Are you alright?” Regulus asks quietly. James just shrugs, still refusing to meet his gaze. Regulus takes ahold of James’ chin with a barely-there grip and brings his face where he has to at least look at his face, rather than the wall.

“James,” he says, a little firmer, “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

He can’t help but worry about James’ parents, Effie and Monty, despite him never having actually met them. He cares about them regardless because Sirius and James care about them so much. With the war rising quickly on the horizon, he’s put a lot of effort into setting up discrete information pipelines on the elder Potters. He hopes it’s going to be enough to stop anything that will inevitably turn its eyes toward them.

“No,” James rasps, his voice hoarse, “Nothing happened. Just a shit day.”

Regulus regards him for a moment. James can’t lie to him for shit, not when he’s looking at him anyways, so he nods.

“Pink!” He calls out and a house elf apparates into the loo. She’s his favourite Hogwarts elf, her pinkish-purple eyes and colour charmed tea-towel dress had caught his eye in first year and she was the first to ever use his real name. He adored her. Today, her tea towel was yellow. It felt fitting somehow.

“What can Pink be doing for her favourite Master Regulus?” Pink was about as subtle as a hippogriff with her blatant favouritism towards him. He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t love it.

“Could you bring us some lavender chamomile tea please? One with two sugars and milk and the other black? If you’ve the time?”

Pink looked around the lav, judgement clear on her face, “Pink would be happy to get Master Regulus and Mr Potter tea, but she shan’t be giving it in the lavatory. No, no, no,”

The elf snapped her fingers and suddenly they were sitting in an empty classroom, their belongings at their feet and a table with a tea service between them. James had a bewildered expression on his face that Regulus couldn’t help but laugh at. They each made up a cuppa before looking back at Pink who hadn’t left. She nodded firmly at them.

“Much better. Young masters will call Pink if they need anything,” she says before popping away.

“Merlin, I love that elf,” Regulus chuckles. If he makes it through the war he’s going to find a way to force Dumbledore to part with her. Kreacher would throw a fit about it, but he’d come around soon enough.

It was slow work getting James speaking again over tea. At first he’d respond with a few words but mostly stayed quiet, but gradually two cups of tea later, he was responding with a sentence or two. There was a long, comfortable silence between them where Regulus took his chance and pressed the issue at hand.

“What’s wrong, Sunshine?” He asks, voice gentle and quiet. James presses his eyes closed for a moment. Regulus knew pulling the “sunshine” card was unfair, but he was a Slytherin. James knew better than to expect him to ever play fair, “Are you okay?”

James huffs an irritated sounding breath, “Ehhh?” He says, “I’m not…not okay,”

Regulus cocks his head, “Well…that’s something I suppose. What happened?”

James shrugs his shoulders, running a frustrated hand through his hair, “I don’t know! I just- really, it’s just a bad day. I don’t know. Nothing happened. I just woke up and everything was so much and it felt like I was drowning in my head. And it’s so stupid! There’s absolutely no reason I should feel like this!”

The amount of anger in James’ voice is unexpected, but Regulus can understand it. He get into proper strops over his own emotions constantly, but for the opposite reasons. James feels everything at 110% all of the time. Regulus feels things at maybe 10% on a good day. He doesn’t know what it’s like to feel things as the level James does, but he can imagine how overwhelming it could be. He’s still trying to form a response when James whispers, “It’s fine. I promise, I’m fine,”

And Regulus feels his heart break a little bit for James. He’d mentioned little things about his fits of anxiety and issues with certain sensory input here and there, but Regulus had never been privy to the actual moments before.

“Can I- Do you-“ Regulus couldn’t quite figure out the words he was trying to push past his mouth, “Is there something that Sirius or the others do to help when you feel like this? Something I can do?”

He felt a bit of a flush creeping up his neck, but he refused to think about it. He was trying to get better at communicating with his boyfriend. Trying to become someone worthy of having someone like James Potter in his life. These are the kind of questions that James would ask him if their positions were reversed, he’s sure of that, so he’s going to put his emotionally repressed brain to the side and be here for James, no matter how hard it is.

James looks at him a bit quizzically, like he’s genuinely confused as to why Regulus is asking that. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “They…uh…they don’t actually know about all of…” he gestures vaguely to himself and it takes nearly all the pureblood etiquette training he received his entire life to not let his eyes bug out in surprise. Merlin’s tits, this self-sacrificing idiot is going to be the death of me.

He’s seen just about every person from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff lean on James for something at some point in time. He’s seen James sit with girls while they cry over their boyfriend breaking up with them. He’s seen him sit with homesick first years, do quidditch coaching for second years, transfiguration tutoring for just about every year. He stops and talks to nearly everyone on the way to class because he knows a little bit about everyone and prides himself in being available for everyone anytime.

Hell, he beat up and hexed the shit out of some upper year Slytherins when he wandered by at the wrong time and saw them jump Evan. He hadn’t remotely questioned it. James had seen Evan, someone he’d frequently exchanged hexes with and barely knew outside of what Regulus had told him, bleeding and unconscious on the ground, and jumped head first with no hesitation into the fray to help.

James had managed to heal a fair bit of the damage done, and had Evan to the hospital wing in record time. While Madame Pomfrey worked over Evan, James had tracked down Barty, Regulus, Dorcas, and Pandora, despite being openly hostile with or barely aquatinted with Regulus’ friends, and he’d gone to Slughorn to file a formal complaint against the students responsible. James denies all accusations of string pulling with his father, but three out of five of the boys responsible for Evan’s attack had their wands snapped and had been expelled from the school before Evan ever stepped foot out of the hospital wing. Barty has never raised his wand against James since, Evan occasionally stopped to chat with him in the halls, Dorcas ran quidditch drills with him after practices, and Pandora has a standing invitation to pretty much any Gryffindor festivities.

James does so much for everyone around him, it simply doesn’t make sense to him as to how no one has noticed how badly James is struggling.

Regulus vanishes the tea service, shrinks their belongings, throws his outer robes on before hauling James up and doing the same to him, “Come,” he says, extending out a hand for James to take.

“What? Where are we going?” James doesn’t hesitate to take his hand though, and he hauls him through the now-empty corridors without answering him. They head straight out the front entrance hall doors, but Regulus doesn’t slow his pace until they get to the Black Lake. Together, they amble hand in hand around the waterbody.

“Are you not worried someone will see us?” James asks, a few minutes into their walk.

“No,” Regulus replies, “And if they do, that’s something I’m not unwilling to face,”

James turns a baffled look onto him, “But you said-“

Regulus holds up a hand to stop him, “I know. And when I said it, I thought hiding it would keep us both safe. But there’s a war on the horizon, Darling, and no one is safe. We’re in no more danger being together in public now than we will be once the war begins. If that’s something you want, if you want to be in public with me, I’m happy to give it to you,”

James thinks his heart might explode right there in his chest. He’s wanted nothing more than to scream his love for Regulus Black for almost two years now. Well, he wouldn’t scream it from the rafters, Reg would hate that, but he’s wanted nothing more than to be able to be with Reg outside of closed doors and late night astronomy tower visits. Now he has the opportunity.

“What happens when the war comes?” He asks, terrified of the answer, but hopeful all the same.

Regulus shrugs, “We can make a big scene, fake a breakup because we’re choosing different sides or somesuch rot, or we can grab the people we love and get the fuck out of this thrice forsaken country. Away from Voldemort and away from Dumbledore. Make them fight their own war, I suppose. Travel, if we want. Find somewhere we love and stay for however long we want. I don’t know, James, the war is coming regardless of what we do. I’d like to believe we have the power to choose our fates. Just this once I’d like to pretend that we have control over our lives,”

Regulus pauses for a moment before laughing to himself, “Just this once, I’d like to pretend that the biggest danger to us being together is dealing with Sirius when he finds out,”

James chokes out a laugh at that, fully able to envision his best friend’s face when he finds out. When. Not if. Despite the sharp ring of terror that James feels about that idea, the thought that he could find out and that he and Reg weren’t doomed to fail made him smile a bit like a fool.

“Merlin,” James breathes, “I’m not sure if he’d want to kill me or want to kill you more,”

They chuckle about it, squabbling like they do about everything with smiles on their faces, even if they are discussing more and more outlandish plots that Sirius would come up with for their demises.

James snorts when Reg describes a truly macabre murder plot Sirius could use to murder them both for daring to date each other, “Genuinely, I think we’re going to be in more danger when Pads finds out than we’ll ever be in with the Death Eaters,”

“Too right you are, Potter,”

Both he and Reg whip around and come face to face with one very, very pissed off Sirius Black. He can see Reg’s lips quirk up into a smirk and he knows this isn’t going to be pretty. He shoots a “help me” look over to Remus and Peter who are hovering behind Sirius, both of them shrug their shoulders as if to say “sorry pal, you’re on your own”. Lovely.

“Pads, look mate, I can explain,”

Sirius’ flinty eyes snap over to him and glare darkly, “If you’re about to tell me it’s not what it looks like, I will drown you in the lake,” he threatens. James laughs.

“No, it’s exactly what it looks like. And sounds like, I’m assuming, if you’ve been following us for a while.”

He looks at Sirius for a long moment, and Sirius looks back at him without wavering. They’ve long since mastered their communication without speech, but that isn’t what this is. It’s a bit of a battle of wills, but also a test. And James never shies from a challenge. When Sirius flicks his eyes heavenward, James knows he’s won.

“Sirius Orion Black the III, I’m hopelessly, helplessly, and doubtlessly in love with your brother. I have been for the last two years. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I’m not remotely sorry I fell in love with him. If it’s any consolation, I don’t love him enough to let Slytherin win on the pitch?”

Sirius snorts, a little bit unwillingly, but seems to take that answer.

“Janamejaya Fleamont Potter,” Sirius starts, a nasty little grin stretched across his lips.

James groans at his full name, dropping his head into his hands, “Merlin, I fucking hate you Padfoot. Two years. I went two years without him finding that bit out. You’re a rotten bastard, Black,” Sirius just cackles at the gleeful little smirk Regulus has on his face. Regulus won’t ever let this go. Serves the traitorous brotherfucker right.

He continues without paying James, who’s glaring death at him, any mind, “I really cannot fathom why you, of all people, would fall for my horrid little brother, of all people, but here we are. I will absolutely never forgive you for this, but I suppose I’m going to have to live with it, even if I really don’t like it, aren’t I?”

Both James and Regulus respond immediately with a resounding, “Yes,”

Sirius huffs a long suffering sigh, “If I ever, and I mean, ever, see shit between the two of you that isn’t fit for the public view, I will castrate the both of you,”

Regulus snorts in a very un-Blacklike way, “Shall I inform you of all the safe sex measures we currently employ, brother dear?” He asks, faux sweetness dripping from his works. Sirius goes pale, then briefly green, then a horrible puce colour.

Regulus is doubled over laughing at his brother’s misery. Remus’ lips are twitching in an effort not to laugh, and Peter’s somehow managed to get to the kitchens and back with popcorn and is watching the verbal duel with rapt attention.

Sirius has launched into a, frankly, well-informed lecture, whilst still shouting and still looking vaguely nauseous, and Regulus hasn’t stopped laughing yet. James knows exactly what Regulus is doing, and he can’t help the fond, but exasperated look he has on his face as he watches two of the most important people in his life attempt to verbally incinerate each other. They haven’t actually tried to murder each other yet, though, so he’s counting it as a win.

Regulus lets Sirius go on his tangent for about ten minutes before he finally pulls himself together and stops antagonising his poor brother, who’s about thirty seconds away from a heart attack if the brilliant scarlet colour his face is sporting is any indication.

“Sirius,” he says softly. Sirius doesn’t stop his ranting for even a second, Regulus can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Sirius,” he says a little firmer. Still, Sirius barely pauses long enough to take a breath.

“Siri,”

And of course, that’s what shuts him up. It seems he’s on a roll with pulling out unfairly emotional nicknames for people today. Regulus hasn’t called his brother that silly little nickname in over ten years. It makes a sad little smile slant across his lips. He lifts his untucked white shirt up over his lower stomach, where a long scar stretches across his abdomen.

“I got all of it removed when I had top surgery. Stop panicking, you idiot, I’m fucking with you,”

That’s the top of Sirius’ threshold apparently, because he launches himself at Regulus, tackling him to the ground and a pathetically short wrestling match ensues between the two of them. Regulus has Sirius pinned in no time at all, and James resolutely looks away from his boyfriend, only to meet the very smug gaze of Remus, who is surely going to rub this in both of their faces for all of eternity.

“Alright, alright! Regulus, let your brother up so he can lick his wounds in peace, yeah? Sirius stop whinging, Regulus is of age and can do as he pleases. Pack it in,” Of course the only person in the world that can get both Black brothers to listen to them is Remus bloody Lupin.

The lot of them continue walking around the lake as one group, and it’s a seamless transition. James and Regulus have their arms around each other, just like Sirius and Remus do. Peter is jumping between scurrying ahead or onto shoulders as Wormtail and popping back into the conversation as Peter. They tease each other relentlessly and poke fun the entire way around the lake. Remus and Pete argue about who figured out James and Regulus were together first, to which James and Regulus argue about when they actually got together to begin with.

As they near the castle, Reg slows his pace down and puts a bit of distance between the rest of the group and he and James, “Feeling any better, love?”

James seems a little bit startled by the question but nods, “Yeah, I do, actually. Loads better. Why?”

Reg laughs softly and has that mean little smirk that means he’s about to tease James relentlessly about something, “Apparently I needed to take my golden retriever of a boyfriend for a walk,”

James wants to feel offended about that, he really does, but the fact that he’s been equated to a golden retriever in three separate friend groups, when Sirius is supposed to be the dog out of all of them, will never not be funny to him.

Ahead, he can hear Moony’s laughter and hears Reg grumble something about “bloody werewolf senses”. Moony trips in surprise and nearly topples Sirius and Pete in order to keep his footing.

As they go to split off for their respective common rooms, James pretends that he doesn’t hear Moony talking to Regulus for a moment before they separate.

“I don’t know what you did, how you did it, and I really don’t know if I want to, but I just wanted to thank you for finding a way to be there for him on a day like this. He doesn’t let us in, Merlin knows we’ve tried, but he refuses to accept that he needs help sometimes. Reckon it’s some sort of misplaced guilt, but…” Remus trails off for a moment, running a hand through his hair with a vaguely frustrated noise.

“It’s gotten scary in the past, Reg. We rotate following him around when he disappears like that. Make sure he doesn’t get into anything stupid. Normally he goes up to the roof and chainsmokes until he’s out of fags or it’s too dark to see. When he disappeared off the map, don’t look at me like that I know he’s shown it to you, we all panicked. I don’t know where you found him or how you did it, but Merlin, I’m thankful you did. Maybe you can teach him what we keep failing to. He needs someone like you,”

Regulus has a soft look on his face, “Trust me, Lupin. I need someone like him too,”

Remus grins, it’s sharp and the points of his canines are clearly visible, “Good, because if either of you hurts the other, I’ll kill you both myself, got it?”

James and Regulus both exchange a moderately panicked look, but nod vigorously in response. That’s the unofficial cue for their group to disband to their common rooms, but before Regulus disappears down the corridor for the Dungeons, he glances over his shoulder at the backs of the four Gryffindors and asks himself,

“Did I just get bullied by a werewolf wearing a knit jumper? What is my life turning into?”

Only Remus turns around and smirks at him, “A comedy, Black. Best be ready for it. It only gets worse from here,”

Regulus shakes his head with a snort. Yeah, okay. A comedy is definitely a fitting title for his life. At least it isn’t a tragedy.

#regulus black #evan rosier #james potter #dorcas meadowes #jegulus #marauders era #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #sirius black #sunseeker #starchaser #wolfstar #rosekiller #mini fic #desi james potter #Janamejaya name credit to mraudersmoon #fic idea inspired by comet_fire on tiktok #james potter has GAD #among other things but this focuses on his anxiety the most #regulus is trying so hard to be supportive but is so out of his depth #sirius got over them being together way too fast but I didn’t want to keep dragging this on #also I kinda think it’s cute when he pretends to be angry at them but secretly he’s really happy they ended up with each other #if it has to be someone I think Sirius couldn’t pick someone better for regulus than James and vice versa #trans regulus #ftm regulus black #bamf regulus black #james & peter & remus & sirius #peter pettigrew #peter pettigrew is not a traitor #im gonna laugh my ass of if this gets two fucking likes the way number two did

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