Of Pinstripes And Potions

Hour Four

It doesn't feel too long before Regulus wakes, but perhaps he's fallen asleep again himself. It wouldn't be surprising with so little to do. He's brushed his teeth in the small bathroom adjoined to the hospital wing, and flicked through the pile of homework that's been (un)kindly left at his bedside. When he glances over, he sees that Regulus is shifting about, pulling the blankets up around himself and he can hear him huffing every now and again. The beds are less comfortable than the ones in the dorm, James will give him that much, but he can't help but think he's being a bit of a drama queen about it.

It's somewhat longer before Regulus realises that James is awake, too. Looks over his shoulder, sour expression in place. He's looking somewhere over towards the door before his eyes land on James, seems confused for a second before speaking in that monotonous drawl, diminished only slightly by sleep.

"Didn't die, then."

"Did you think I would?" James asks, amused. Maybe 'hoped' would be more like it. It was no secret that Regulus held James and his friends in the same contempt he held Sirius, so their current situation would probably be more of a bother to him than it was to James. Before he's even given Regulus the chance to answer, James is asking a question that's been on his mind since waking up next to Regulus: "Anyway, what are you doing in here?"

He doesn't answer right away, purses his lips and then moves his mouth from side to side, small motions as though he's working on a particularly tough piece of gum. Eventually, he huffs again (which makes James wonder if he's not having trouble with his lungs), and answers,

"Mis-brewed potion." He doesn't expand on that. There's a bit of a silence, and James surveys the room. If anybody else is awake, they haven't emerged from their piles and piles of blankets yet. He's noticed that the boy directly across from them is a first year, house unclear with no tie to be seen. Everybody else is still a mystery. Time's gotten a bit blurry in his head, but perhaps their late slumbering means it's still the weekend. Since they're practically alone in that sense, James pushes on.

"Aren't you good at potions, though?" He asks, the implication clear that he'd thought Regulus was good at potions.

"Why would you assume that?" Regulus asks, though he doesn't sound too happy about indulging James' question at all. It's the same tone his mother uses to humour his little cousins when they're bothering her in the kitchen and she's six pots to be watched. James doesn't mind.

"Well... You're in Slytherin." James says, and even to his ears, it sounds a little silly.

"What, you think all Slytherins are good at potions?"

"S'pose not, but..." As James is speaking, Regulus is turning away from him. Rude like the rest of the Slytherins, that's for sure. "Slughorn is, and Snape's into all of that." Regulus says nothing to that, makes some non-committal noise that brings about an urge in James to say something else, to get some kind of reaction from him. Perhaps he doesn't like the quiet, or perhaps his ego is just that fragile. "Besides, it'd just be like the way Gryffindors are much better than other houses at Quidditch."

That gets him a reaction, as he suspects it might. Regulus' head whips back so quickly it must hurt his neck, and he scowls deeply at him. James only laughs.

Apparently, it's after breakfast when the boys finally show up. Madam Pomfrey had walked around a while ago and forced some food upon them, but it didn't occur to James that it was breakfast. After all, it seemed so long since he'd seen the sun come up and with only the mental clock in his head to go by, he'd wrongly assumed it had been hours. Still, he's happy to see them, and to have some company other than the back of Regulus Black's head. Pete perches on the end of his bed, flicking through the magazines they'd brought to entertain James, while Sirius and Remus sit at either side of him. Sirius is closer to him, tapping his fingers on the metal of the bed frame. He's clearly irritated, but James won't ask why. Not with his brother there to overhear; Sirius wouldn't say anything if he did. Remus is over by Pete, closer to Regulus than he is to James. His arms are folded and he doesn't say much, lets Pete fill James in on what he missed, including a dramatic retelling of his injury.

"When it hit you, McGonagall was having a go at Colin Leary and didn't see in time to stop you falling."

"Went down like a ton of bricks. I was first by your side, naturally." Sirius added.

"Naturally." Remus echoes, and James doesn't understand the bitter tone he's using, but Pete keeps talking to maintain the carefully crafted light tone. Things have been better lately, not as tense as they had been in the last school year, and he'd thought that Sirius and Remus were on good terms again. But then, there are often moments between the two of them that James doesn't quite understand, glances they share that go over his head. It's not close enough to the full moon to explain his temperament, so he can only assume that something's happened in his absence that he's not privy to. He doesn't envy Pete, having to share the dorm with them alone.

"Nobody really thought you were gonna die, 'cause nobody has at a school Quidditch match in years, but it was still really tense." Pete goes on explaining.

"Yeah, and you're lucky it was the Hufflepuffs we were playing and not the Slytherins. Those prats would've just carried on playing."

Sirius says it with a laugh, but James is watching as his eyes flicker to his brother, a certain sternness behind them that tells James he probably only said that because he's there. He loves Sirius, but won't deny he's capable of such spite.

"Pads." He murmurs, wanting to avoid a scene. Madam Pomfrey isn't happy about the lot of them piling into her hospital wing as often as they do, and she's hardly likely to let them stay if Sirius starts wrestling her patients. It's a selfish reason to try and put a stop to it, but he's been so bored over the past few hours that he thinks he deserves to be a little selfish.

"What? It's the truth. I'm not going to pretend otherwise just because he's there." Again, the 'he's' gives something away about the way Sirius feels, the contempt he too holds his brother in, the same scorn Regulus never bothers to hide. James doesn't have any brothers, not ones tied to him by blood and whom he's grown up beside, and so he decides that he can't possibly understand what it is between them, because he simply can't imagine treating Sirius or Remus or Pete in such a way, no matter what they had done to hurt him.

"Well, still..." James is embarrassed to even continue the exchange, knowing that if Regulus is awake, there's no doubt that he'll be able to hear them. Sirius shares none of his embarrassment.

"He's heard me say worse, Prongs. I could've pointed out that he's had no visitors in all the time he's been here, and I didn't."

"How gracious of you." Remus mutters beneath his breath, rolling his eyes. James doesn't know if he wants to know what their latest disagreement is. Having a serious head injury excuses him of that, right? They don't stay much longer, and James finds that he doesn't mind. As much as spending the time alone is boring, and the seconds crawl by like a match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, his silent attempts to interpret Remus' remarks are starting to give him a headache. If Pete visits him alone before he gets out, he'll be sure to ask.

After they've gone, James finds that he wants to say something to Regulus; he wants to say that Sirius hadn't meant the things he'd said, was angry about something else. But he thinks he knows the kind of reaction he'd get, and so he keeps his mouth closed and simply watches the back of the other boy's head. It's not much in the way of entertainment, but still he doesn't find himself reaching for the magazines Pete's left scattered across his bed.