The Day the Music Died | Jegulus, Wolfstar

Black Currant

I'm just the pieces of the man I used to be,
Too many bitter tears are raining down on me.
I'm far away from home,
And I've been facing this alone for much too long, oh.
I feel like no one ever told the truth to me,
About growing up and what a struggle it would be.
In my tangled state of mind,
I've been looking back to find,
Where I went wrong.

8 o'clock.
It was Christmas night, the Potter's family and the majority of their friends were reunited, even a few old colleagues from the ministry had shown up too. The ambient was joyful, the air smelled like turkey and fresh baked potatoes, the living room was decorated with a beautifully ornamented Christmas tree bigger than the tallest guest in the room, but James couldn't bring himself to enjoy any of it, his mind was strictly on Regulus, he thought about him more than he liked to admit, even more than in his own best mates, but he convinced himself the only reason was because of the danger he was in, and tonight, was the night.
Regulus had been contacting him a few times over the weeks, short talks, and then he had to leave, he'd promised James to talk to him after the ceremony, that was the only thing he'd been looking forward to the entire day.

10 o'clock.
Still no response, the mirror showed the reflection of Reg's room, it was dull green, barely any decorations were placed in it, it appeared to be freezing in there, James got chills just seeing it and a sudden sense of sadness took over him, in comparison his room was like an amusement park.

12 o'clock.
The guests were starting to leave, James was trying to keep his cool, like he usually did in risky situations, he rushed to his dad and took him to an empty corner, staring furtively around, checking no one was near, the old Darius had a liking for eavesdropping.

"Regulus still didn't show up, I've got a really, really bad feeling about this," he flustered.

Fleamont touched his shoulder.

  "I know the Black's parties, they usually last longer than ours, if by one past thirty he still didn't reach out, we'll do something, you have my word."

James nodded and returned to his room, his stomach twisting in anxiety, barely blinking in front of the mirror in case he missed something, but the time appeared to be frozen, nothing happened.

1:48
The Potter's house was in complete silence now, Fleamont was writing a letter to Dumbledore, Euphemia was mindlessly pacing in circles, and James couldn't stop staring at the mirror, he was fidgeting with its edges, but they were too sharp; they cut him, his finger started bleeding slowly, he just sat there, looking at the blood slither through his hand, as if he was hypnotized with its piercing scarlet colour.

Suddenly, a scream echoed through the room, it was heart shattering, a scream of pure pain, followed by more hollers and sobs, James couldn't move, he knew who those screams were from. Fleamont ran and tore the mirror from his son's hands, his eyes were shaky, so were his hands, James felt like the world ended, right there, the screams didn't stop, they kept getting louder, they were unbearable. James tried to stop the pain grabbing his ears, but they only seemed to get worse. The older Potter headed to the door with his wand in hand, and just as he was about to reach it, they stopped. The whole family stood there, paralysed, they could hear muffled sobs and then a slamming door.

Suddenly the Potter's front door opened, Fleamont immediately pointed his wand at the intruder, but this turned out to be his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. With the wave of a hand, he made James' dad lower his wand, and the room fell silent once again. A few minutes passed by, and just as James was about to scream at Dumbledore to do something, a small explosion filled the chimney with smoke, and a lifeless body fell to the floor, James knelt next to it as fast as his legs let him and rolled it on it's back.

Regulus.

He was bloody, bruised and pale, if he hadn't perceived his chest going up and down slowly under his thin shirt, he would've thought he was dead. Fleamont pushed James to the back and grabbed the boy in his arms, Dumbledore conjured a Patronus, shaped like a phoenix, which disappeared through the window flapping elegantly its majestic wings, and helped the older Potter to leave Regulus in the couch, his head was feebly hanging over his shoulders, James couldn't breathe, he couldn't bring himself to help, what if he died? He dropped to the floor at the same time the door opened, madam Pomfrey entered nervously.

"You have to reinforce your protecting charms, Potter, I expect we will be welcoming a few less pleasant guests tonight," James heard Dumbledore say calmly, but he couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, his eyes weren't focusing, and then everything went dark.

***

James woke up in his bed, he was rather calm, but then suddenly, he retook his consciousness like a cold bucket of ice, Regulus.
He jumped out of his bed and ran downstairs, he'd probably passed out, and left Regulus alone. What an awful friend, selfish as always.

  "Where's Regulus?!" He yelped to no one in particular, his dad answered, he had very noticeable eye bags under his eyes, even with the poor lighting, which indicated it was still nighttime. Dumbledore was muttering some spells under his breath.

  "He's upstairs, in the guests room, but wait-

James wasn't listening any more, he took double steps on the stairs and ran through the corridor, he kicked the door open, Regulus was unconscious in the bed, but his face was no longer bloody, Euphemia was sitting next to him, she didn't take her eyes off him till James' irruption.

  "Oh, love, are you okay?" She drawled, looking exhausted.

  "Is he alright?"

Euphemia nodded.

  "Madam Pomfrey made magic, as always. He had a few ribs broken, they used some type of, hex, on him, if it weren't for her... well, the important thing is that he's okay now," she smiled.

James sobbed, for the first time in various years, the tears were sliding through his cheeks uncontrollably, they kept falling, even if he wiped them with his sleeve, they didn't stop. It was just like living Sirius' situation all over again, he'd managed to keep calm that time, but something about Regulus just made him feel ten times worse.

  "Oh dear," Euphemia sighed, and gave him a motherly hug, caressing his dark hair, always messy, likewise his father's, every lock pointing a different direction, indomitable like his spirit. James separated from her mom and gave her a weak smile.

  "Do you think you could stay with Regulus for a while now that you're awake? I ought to help your father with the spells, let me know if he wakes up," she said, almost in a whisper, James nodded and sat in the chair next to the ashen boy, when he heard the door close gently, he placed his head in Regulus' chest; his heart was beating really slowly, but he finally seemed to be calm.

He looked at the boy's face, his usual scowl was gone, his presence was peaceful, he smelled like eucalyptus oil, black currant, sandalwood, and quidditch jersey. He looked clean, his skin was fair, and the contrast of his dark eyebrows and long eyelashes made his factions stand out even more, he looked like a living painting.

  "I'm so glad you're alive, Reg, you've no idea just how much," James blubbered, smiling in relief.

***