Of Pinstripes And Potions

Thursday

The worst part wasn't the fact that Regulus had kissed him for the first time moments before he reminded him that his loyalty would always lie more firmly with his brother. It wasn't the look on Regulus' face as he came to terms with that, and fumbled for his own cold, distant response. The worst part was that after that, he'd called James 'Potter' once more. Just when James had thought they'd got to a place where he could at least think of Regulus as something akin to a friend even if he couldn't say it out loud, Regulus insists on reminding him that the whole thing is imagined, that he sees James only as a means to an end. And it had all been his suggestion, and he had been the one to call it to an end, so he shouldn't really hold it against Regulus. Except that he does.

Hadn't Regulus felt what he did in the hospital wing, that confusing but exhilarating zing of possibility? Hadn't they shared a secret and both deceived people they were close to? It had required an immense amount of trust on Regulus' part to go along with James' half-baked plan when the consequences could have been so dire if things had gone wrong, and yet now he didn't even look James' way in the corridor or in the Great Hall. He had reminded him that they weren't friends on multiple occasions, and James had obviously not listened well enough. Now he was facing his own consequences.

And it wasn't as though he could talk about it with the people he could call his friends, because it wasn't something that should have ever happened in the first place. It wasn't something that actually happened, not really. But as far as Sirius was concerned, James was only righting a wrong of his, and it needed no further conversation. Things between them were still tense, but it was obvious that some of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders and James felt guilty for regretting his actions even for a second. Pete had never been aware of his fictional dalliance at all, and so couldn't be the sympathetic ear he so desperately needed, which only left one person.

"Sirius told me what you did." Remus says nonchalantly, the first time they're alone together after the fact. His back is to James, sorting through things in his trunk in preparation for the next full moon, pulling out the soft clothes he always lives in afterwards and moving anything away from around his bed that might prove hazardous in those few clumsy days. James is grateful that he's not looking his way.

"Yeah? What'd he say?"

"Only that you'd said you were going to finish with him. I take it you didn't change your mind?"

"No."

"And?"

"And what?" At that, Remus turns to look at him impatiently with a roll of his eyes.

"And, how did it go?"

James doesn't dignify the question with a proper answer. Instead, he groans and presses the palms of his hands hard against his eyes. He throws himself back onto his bed and continues to make small, distressed noises as Remus laughs at him. "That bad?" He asks.

He can't really answer that. Not truthfully. He can't tell Remus that Regulus had kissed him right before he told him, because Remus is under the impression that kissing was very much a thing he and Regulus had been doing regularly, and so he wouldn't understand why that had sent James into a tailspin. If they had been kissing night and day and James had still resolved to finish with him for Sirius' sake, what should one more kiss be? He can't tell him that the kiss is almost all he's thought about since it happened, and that he feels guilty about that too. Regulus hadn't known about the strange thoughts that plagued him in the hospital wing, or that he'd wondered what kissing Regulus would be like, not just because he was a boy but because he was Regulus. Before it happened, James had wondered if his kiss would be tense and chaste and overly-formal, the way he liked everybody to think he was, or if it would be softer, more unsure, like the glimpse of the boy James was given in the moments they were alone together. It wasn't fair that now he knew it was somewhere between the two, that he could practically still feel Regulus' lips on his, when it had been a kiss that meant nothing to him, one that only happened so that James didn't have any leverage over him, so that they were 'even'. So instead of giving Remus an answer, he only nods.

"You're a good friend, James." His eyes are still closed, but he can hear that Remus is closer now, can feel his weight at the side of his bed where he's obviously moved now that it's apparent James is in such a mess.

"I'm not."

"Not many people would've—" Remus starts, but James can't stand to hear the praise for something he didn't even do. Even now, he was still lying to both Remus and Sirius.

"If I was a good friend, I wouldn't have looked at Regulus twice."

"Well, it's done now." He says after a moment.

"That's all you're going to say?" James asks, scrunching up his nose. He'd been rather hoping Remus would be angrier on Sirius' behalf, that he'd be the one to voice some of the things James had been thinking about himself, remind him of all the things Sirius had done for him over the years and the price he could pay for fucking that up.

"What do you want me to say, Prongs? Maybe if I'd sated your curiosity back then, this could've all been avoided?"

"Piss off, Moony." Remus is joking, and James is still pouting at him, but in truth he feels somewhat lighter for having talked about it with somebody, even if his fingers are still twitching with the urge to reach up and touch his own lips, remembering the warmth that had been there only a day before.

Later on, he sees Regulus across the Great Hall. It's no different from any other day he's seen him there, moving his fork about his plate and engaging in small talk with his fellow Slytherins. But this time, James spends the entire hour they're at dinner hoping Regulus will look over at him. He knows that it must be obvious to his own friends that he's staring, knows it will probably annoy Sirius a great deal, and yet he still can't pull his eyes away. If he does, he might miss the moment Regulus finally looks over and have to go on wondering if it happened all night. Their eyes meet only once, right as Regulus is standing to leave. There's some girl beside him, and a boy James knows to be Barty Crouch, and so even if he'd thought of following Regulus out, trying to talk to him, he knows that he can't now.

When Regulus does look his way, it's brief, feels accidental, and James reacts before he has the chance to think better of it. He smiles wide, hoping that it will convey to Regulus that he holds no hard feelings towards him, that even if he immediately returned to being stand-offish and cold, James doesn't feel the same way. In response, Regulus frowns.