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Regulus knew he wasn’t coming back.
The sun was rising then. He was clothed in thick black robes to keep him warm against the merciless winter, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Kreacher had insisted and, since it would be the last time Regulus ever saw him, he agreed.
It wasn’t quite daylight, nor was it night. It was the soft warmth of the coming dawn, the promise of a day that would begin without him. New beginnings for the world that he held no love for, and for the people in it whom he did.
He thought of James first.
Regulus had loved James Potter once. He shouldn’t have, he knew he shouldn’t have, but it escaped his control and Regulus had never felt more glad. Oh, there was nothing sweeter than James’s love, than his kiss, his touch, his golden sweetness. He was good, from the sparkle of his cocoa eyes to the blazing confidence of his stride. His morals were strong, proud, and in the seven years since Regulus first saw his brother’s new best friend on the Hogwarts Express, they had never slipped. Not once.
Regulus couldn’t say the same about himself. Had he ever believed in anything? Had he ever loved anything in the way that James loved everything?
Yes.
The first was his older brother. His brave, grinning older brother who was always Regulus’s protector. His best friend. The boy who took countless strikes across the face so that Regulus wouldn’t have to. The boy who fell asleep on the floor because Regulus was crying from inside the cupboard, one of few punishments that Sirius couldn’t save him from. The boy who would sit with him on the balcony with a blanket and a platter of sweets he stole from the kitchen, all because Regulus had a nightmare.
And then Regulus turned ten, and Sirius went to Hogwarts. Regulus didn’t see his brother again until Christmas, his hair grown out and his smile different. Not the one he always gave to Regulus, the one to comfort him, but a rebellious smirk, tainted by something. Someone, Regulus would learn. Remus Lupin and James Potter, Sirius’s new best friends.
Maman had beat him horribly. She cut his hair short again, seething about how it was unfitting of a Black heir. Of a pureblood.
Regulus thought it looked nice.
He didn’t talk to his brother much anymore. Hell, Regulus hadn’t talked to his brother in years. When Sirius left, Regulus was too afraid to go with him. Regulus had always been afraid.
He looked up to the sky. He found Sirius’s star first, and then his own. He still looked to Sirius for comfort. He was still afraid.
Still alone.
He hadn’t always been alone, of course. Barty was first, his first friend, his first kiss. Then Evan, who made their group feel whole. He was calmer than Barty, but still full of light, full of life, and with him he brought Pandora. She was… different. Chaotic in a way that Regulus didn’t expect, but she was gentle too. She loved the world, loved the mysteries of life and the questions still unanswered. How long had it been since he had written to her? He didn’t remember. She hadn’t been the same since Evan died. Regulus had been the one holding his body.
And then there was Dorcas. She kept them in line. She was always so brave, and smart, and strong, stronger than any of them. She chose to be good in a way that none of them could. She was dead too, died with the girl she loved. She was lucky that way.
Regulus would die alone.
He turned away from the sun, from the stars that faded with the coming day, swallowing thickly. Every breath felt heavy with the knowledge that soon, he would breathe no more.
When the locket was gone, and he fell beneath the thick, black water, he didn’t struggle. There was no point.
“Don’t be stupid, Reggie,” his brother’s voice rang through his head as he closed his eyes, lungs burning with the weight of the liquid that filled them. “You know you can’t swim.”
“I know,” he thought. “I don’t need to.”
Stars flashed behind his eyes. A sky full of stars, the sun rising behind them. Specks of light closing in. He could see himself. He could see Sirius. He let out a blissful laugh, unheard beneath the black.
“See, Siri?” he asked. “I’m brave like you.”
A hundred miles away, in the town where he grew up, James Potter sat on the porch behind his family home, his legs between the bars of the railing. He came out early sometimes, looking for a certain star that someone had shown him a long time ago. Even after all this time, all the years since they had last spoken, since that last night in the Astronomy Tower, he knew where Regulus sat by heart, his place in the sky engraved in James’ own soul.
He wore an old hoodie from his Quidditch days, before the war. It was red, and warm, worn soft. If he focused, he could still smell Regulus’s shampoo on it. He rolled a little golden ball in his hand, the wings no longer fluttering, allowing him to simply hold it as he had once done with its owner.
The sun was rising now. How long had James been sitting out here, searching for a star that he should’ve been able to find with his eyes closed, reaching up and plucking its light from the sky, holding the warmth of a boy he knew years ago? And yet, he couldn’t find it. He thought he had for a moment, giving a twinkle as though reaching out to him, but when he blinked it was gone.
James cried that morning as the sun came up, swallowing up the stars that he could no longer find. The snitch gave a pitiful flutter in his palm before going limp again.
He wondered where Regulus had gone.
The beach had been meant to clear his mind, standing on the sandy shores under grey skies, watching frigid waves crash over each other. The scent of salt was thick, and for a moment, he thought the wind was carrying Regulus with it. His imagination, surely, but he still heard Regulu’s voice whispering on the breeze.
“I love you,” he whispered softly, just as he had long before, when they had so much less to worry for and they could simply breathe each other in.
James stared out at the sea, listening to Regulus’s whispers for a moment before zipping up his coat and returning home. There was a war to fight, after all. And Regulus had long chosen his side. James shouldn’t care what happened to him.
But he did.
James cared more than he could admit. Regulus haunted his every waking thought. He would go to the store, and out of the corner of his eyes, he would see thick black curls, and he would turn to find nothing, only a hollow ache in his chest that seemed to grow with every passing day.
When Regulus Black was proclaimed dead, James didn’t cry. He had already known. His star had disappeared with him, unable to be found in the night sky where James should’ve been able to reach for him. But he wasn’t there to reach for. Not anymore.
It was a week after the funeral that James visited Regulus’s grave. There was a bouquet of forget-me-nots in his hand, the small blue flowers drooping from lack of sun. The world had gone cloudy in the days since Regulus’s death. He didn’t linger long, silently placing the bouquet down before the tombstone and walking away, saying to himself that he would not return.
That was a lie, of course. Every Saturday, he would come to Regulus’s grave with flowers. Pansies, violets, sprigs of lavender, spread across the grass in front of his empty grave. Some days, he would sit there with Regulus and talk to him. He would tell him about his day, about how the war was going, about Sirius, and how much he missed his little brother, even though he refused to admit it.
It was one of these mornings, sitting cross-legged on the grass, when someone else joined James at Regulus’s grave.
“Hey,” Barty said awkwardly, brushing a limp strand of inky hair from his face. James turned to him, jaw already clenched, but Barty raised his hands in surrender before James could speak. “I’m not here to fight.” He looked onto Regulus’s grave, a hollowness in his eyes that James knew far too well. “Just visiting a friend.”
James sighed, turning back towards the grave. He patted the ground next to him. He heard the ruffling of fabric as Barty sat next to him, one knee pulled up to his chest.
“So you’re the one who’s been bringing him flowers,” Barty said, a statement more than a question.
“It could be anyone,” James said roughly. Barty shook his head.
“Nah,” he said. “There aren’t that many people that care enough to do that.”
James stayed silent as Barty sighed. “I thought you hated him,” Barty muttered.
“I do,” James lied back. Barty huffed out a laugh.
“No you don’t.” It was a statement. James bit back a sharp retort. Crouch didn’t know him, didn’t know shit about what he felt. But he was right, either way. James didn’t think he could ever hate Regulus.
“...Why are you here?” James asked quietly. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“I didn’t come to the funeral,” Barty replied plainly. “I wasn’t invited. It felt wrong not to say goodbye.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Saying goodbye?”
Barty shook his head. “Not really. I don’t know how to say goodbye to him.”
“Yeah,” James said slowly, barely audible. “Me neither.”
Barty huffed out a breath, nodding sharply. They sat in silence for a moment, staring at the name etched into stone in front of them. They had both loved him, though in different ways. They were hurting the same.
“I’ve always hated you,” Barty said suddenly. “I never understood what Reg saw in you. You were arrogant, irritating and stubborn.”
“I hated you too,” James said plainly. “You were cruel, annoying and hot-headed.”
Barty laughed. “Yeah. But I loved him.”
“I loved him too.”
“I know.”
And then they were silent again, the quiet thick between them. Barty was fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves, staring intently at Regulus’s grave like there was anything to see but cold grey stone.
“You haven’t killed me,” James noted.
“I don’t want to,” Barty said plainly, eyeing James. “You haven’t killed me either.”
“I don’t want to.”
Barty nodded. They had both seen too much death. James was tired of it. Tired of the endless streams of bad news, the pain, the seemingly infinite struggle. From the look in Barty’s eye, James thought he was too.
“What do you think he would say if he saw us together?” James asked. “We were never this civil when he was here.”
Barty huffed out an agonized laugh. “He’d probably think he was losing his mind. Hell, I kind of think I’m losing my mind, talking to you of all people.”
“Wouldn’t put it past you, Crouch,” James said. “You always had one foot off the deep end.”
Barty rolled his eyes. “Served me well though. At least until it didn’t. Lost the only people I love, and for what?”
James nodded in understanding. “For nothing. War is pointless, Crouch.”
“Then why be a part of it?”
James sighed. “Because I’m an idiot,” he said plainly. “And because I’m already in too deep. Got people on my side relying on me. What about you? Why do you stay?”
Barty shook his head. “I don’t know. Because I’ve lost it, probably. I don’t have anyone on my side anymore. Cas and Dora chose your side, Evan and Reg are dead…” He tilted his head back, staring up at the sky like it would give him the answers he was searching for. “I’ve got nothing. But I’m still here. What does a man do with that?”
James shrugs. “Whatever he can.”
Barty huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s right.” He stood up with a grunt, brushing soil from his coat. He nodded to Regulus’s grave as though, after all this time, he could say goodbye. Then he looked to James, expression hardened. “The war’s going to end soon. One way or another, it’ll be over. I’d suggest you get out now.”
He turned and walked away, his hands in his pockets. James stayed a little bit longer, staring at Regulus and wondering what he would say. He was always so smart, always seemed to know what to do.
If Regulus could, he would’ve told James to get out. The war was ending, whether they were prepared for it or not, and James wasn’t.
He could’ve picked up his wand.
He could’ve tried to fight back.
He could’ve screamed for help.
But what would’ve been the point? The war would end either way. There were people worth dying for, and so James was willing to die.
He swore that he could see Regulus smiling at him as the world disappeared, his hands extended towards him. He was so very beautiful.
James Potter died alone, but he was still smiling.
At least they were together on the other side.