When James finally stood up, it was because he wanted tea. Regulus offered to do it for him, but he simply laughed, saying he wouldn't know the recipe. All Regulus thought was, who has a recipe for tea?
He was surprised how easily James was able to just switch, like that. Regulus used occlumency to do it—which literally severed his mind—and yet James could simply shut it off. One second, breaking down, the next, laughing with a smile so blinding, it almost convinced Regulus nothing had happened, at all.
The trunk beneath James' bed was still wide open, and Regulus took it upon himself to shut it, pushing it under the bed. It was a conversation for another time, or perhaps a conversation not meant to happen at all.
"Want some?" James asked, as Regulus wandered into the kitchen.
He was standing by the stove, mixing something in a saucepan.
Regulus slumped onto the table, moving James' coat to the side, "What is it? I thought you said you were making tea."
James glanced at him, "It's chai."
Whatever it was, it smelled good.
"Sure," he answered.
It was another few minutes before James was finished, handing Regulus a mug of something warm and spiced, and when he took a sip, he was surprised to find it wasn't too bad, in terms of tea. It was nothing compared to Kreacher's coffee, but far better than the bitter, black tea his mother made him drink when he was younger.
James sat next to him, at the table, another silence washing over them. Regulus was beginning to grow comfortable with those. With his parents, silence was a good thing, something that fell over the house when their children were obedient and all was well. With James—Regulus wasn't sure. It was another thing to learn about him.
"You finished finding the wards?" James asked, suddenly.
He'd spaced out, staring at the spot in the kitchen where James had just left from. It was startling, sort of, to go from whatever that last conversation was, to discussing the future.
Regulus nodded, "Yeah, last night. They're all there, unless others were added. Which we've now established is impossible, considering the only other person who had access to them is in Azkaban."
James huffed, though it was sort of a laugh at the same time, "Good you have a sense of humour about it."
"With these things, you always have to," Regulus replied. Though, deep down, he knew it was because he was still holding onto a bit of hope that there was something else, some other explanation for everything Sirius had done to James.
He nodded at the comment, and then started to look at Regulus' notes, written on a spare piece of parchment he'd found, so he didn't damage James' journal.
"These are good. Really, good. I think this is everything we need before we go to Grimmauld."
Regulus chewed on his lip, biting off a bit of the skin there, "You'll be able to take them down, then? The wards?"
"Of course," James replied. "I'm good at what I do, you know. We'll be able to go there as soon as the raids are over, provided the Raven doesn't give us any more missions."
"Shouldn't we be examining that, then?" Regulus said, gesturing towards the ebony box with his head. "Finish up what you started, so we can go destroy the Horcrux?"
The box sat on the table, bright and shiny. It was nearing midday, and they still hadn't opened it. Last night, when Regulus had been studying away, he'd expected it to be the first thing James looked for when he woke up. Instead, their morning had turned into a mixture of revelations and angry words; Regulus was still reeling from it all, feeling as though he'd been stripped of emotion, all of it carved away from word of the conversation.
