Chapter Text
“Surely, after today’s revelation you’re not still inclined to keep a separate cot?”
James’s voice carried that familiar whine as he and Regulus readied for bed. Since James’s arrival to the troupe, they’d shared a tent. At first, it was a necessity. But since they’d acquired more canvas, it was now out of something else. Regulus had dragged a second cot inside rather than continue the awkward balancing act of sharing the magically expanded one they’d used the first night.
He hadn’t commented on it, of course. But he’d noticed it. James had the subtlety of a brick. Each night, the cot had inched a little closer, as though of its own accord.
And now, after the carriage ride to town, that ever slim pretense of subtlety was thrown clean out the window, brick and all.
James’s cot had now sat in the most inconvenient place imaginable: dead center of the tent, as though he thought Regulus too blind to notice or too police to comment on this absurd encroachment.
Regulus, of course, was very much neither of these things.
“Not sure why you even ask,” he said flatly, “when you’ve been conducting this slow migration for days.”
“Well,” James grinned, “I didn’t want to move too quickly after how long it’s been since we’ve shared a bed. Thought you might need time to grow fond of the idea again.”
“You do realize,” Regulus said simply, “We had only one cot that first night.”
“Oh, Merlin, I didn't even think about that, I was so plastered.”
“Absolutely pissed, you were.”
“Yes,” James chuckled, shameless. “Absolutely. Why two cots now if you managed then? In fact…” His grin widened, mischievous, “if I was so drunk, shouldn’t you have not slept with me?”
Regulus’s composure instantly cracked. “It wasn’t,” he stammered, then scowled. “Don’t make it sound like that.”
James leaned in, smug as sin. “Sound like what, exactly?”
“Should’ve left you drunk on your arse in the dining tent that night,” Regulus muttered, as he sat down on his own cot.
“You really can’t let yourself be anything less than needly and sharp, huh?” James dragged the cot the rest of the way until it joined Regulus’s. “Just like your daggers… But clearly, that’s what makes you so attractive,”
Regulus gave him nothing in reply.
“Well,” James said with a feeling of completion, “Said we ought to unpack things proper once we made camp,”
Regulus shot him a look, the flush returning with vengeance.
“And look at that,” James added, grin widening. “You keep giving me more to unpack… ought to get started, don’t you think? We’ll be here all night figuring out the placement of this cot if we don’t get this sorted first.”
Regulus sighed sharply, but made himself comfortable where he sat on the now-double cot. His choice, not because James asked.
“See? Not so bad is it?” James teased. “I think you want it too,”
“Don’t mistake my tolerance for indulgence,” Regulus replied simply. He held the words like a shield, though they both knew better. Every nudge pushed him closer to a familiar feeling he’d abandoned. The last time he indulged it, he was yanked away before he had any chance to go further.
Familiar sensations lead to familiar outcomes. And he wasn’t looking to repeat that experience.
But despite that, he wasn’t going to just let James keep running the show. He was doing this not because James asked, but because he wanted to. And frankly, he wanted to enjoy that warmth more than just when his head had shifted onto James’s shoulder in the carriage.
James stretched out across the cot, making a point of crowding the space. Regulus then rose to his knees, and looked at James with a gaze that simultaneously dared him to move and demanded him yield.
“Finally, ready to unpack?” James asked, and was promptly shoved back, the next words swallowed as Regulus collided into him with sudden fervor, lips crashing against his in a decisive grab for control.
James pulled back a fraction, just enough to catch his breath and murmur, half-laughing. “Oh… Fucking finally–”
Regulus didn’t let him finish. He pushed forward again, cutting off the sound with another kiss, punctuation sharp against James’s mouth. He kissed him again. Sharp. Claiming. His weight pinned James to the cot, straddling his waist, palms braced on either side of his shoulders as if framing him with his daggers.
James just needed to shut up. And this was an effective method. He couldn’t make some smug remark about Regulus going soft if his lips were too occupied to form the words.
Well, other than the low unguarded sound James made when Regulus bit lightly at his lower lip before returning to kiss after kiss, landing fast and heated, collisions of teeth and tongue like waves in a thunderstorm.
Every motion came abrupt, each one meant to scatter away any thoughts before they could form. Regulus wasn’t just kissing him. He was stealing the chance to think from both of them.
He was stealing away his own vulnerability and any chance James had at calling it out.
James tilted into it as though it were required of him, hands instinctively finding Regulus’s waist. He let him keep control, let him press down like he was winning something. Let him think he was conquering something that wasn’t by any means guarded.
James let him carry out his takeover, until he shifted his grip without warning. His palms slid higher, slow and deliberate under the hem of Regulus’s shirt, while his thigh slid firm between Regulus’s knees.
The reaction was instant. Regulus went still, just for a moment. Just long enough.
James moved. Hands tightened firmly around his ribs, he pushed up sharply, bringing them both upright in one motion that left Regulus grabbing at his shoulders for balance.
“Leave me my mouth for a second, will you?” James breathed through a grin, before cupping the back of Regulus’s neck and sending him downward into the cot.
Regulus barely hit the pillow before he twisted, bracing his hand on James’s shoulder in an attempt to drag James back under him.
James chuckled. Mmmm. No.
He shifted his weight, sliding his palms up to catch Regulus’s wrists, pinning them lightly above his head. He didn’t give him time to regroup. This time, James set the pace.
It wasn’t as rough. It was slower, maddeningly so, but no less intense than the frenzy he had initiated. Where Regulus kissed like he was storming a barricade, James kissed like he was purposefully dismantling one. Brick by brick, each deliberate press of his mouth left Regulus nowhere to run.
Those damn, steady, unsubtle bricks.
Regulus froze under the change, his pulse hammered with the same sinful heat he felt in the carriage when James had become frustratingly directing of the situation. He’d already been flushed with heat now, but it took that different tone again, where in receiving, he short-circuited, and all the sensations overwhelmed him at once.
He wasn’t just flushed with heat, he was absolutely molten.
God. Why does it feel so fucking good?
Fuck him. Regulus was the one he should be obliging to.
He was supposed to be in control here.
Why?
…Because.
Because—
Fuck. There’s not really a real reason. Not one he could find while James was kissing him like that.
“Easy…” James murmured into his neck.
Regulus had apparently cursed out loud, and now his body betrayed him completely. It was a soft and involuntary sound. Something perilously close to a purr. It climbed out of his throat like he actually wanted this. Actually wanted to be entrapped under the grasp of James fucking Potter.
Which, I mean, he did. But that was beside the point, given his determination here in keeping control.
“There it is,” James murmured, voice low and infuriatingly calm. He returned to breaking down the barricade, brick by brick, until Regulus’s fists fell slack and his head tipped back against the pillow, the tender heat flush against his ears and face.
“There you go…” James whispered. He released one wrist, hand sliding to the nape of Regulus’s neck, fingers threading through his hair. The faintest brush there made Regulus shudder, heat rising up his spine as the fight drained out of him.
His free hand twitched, at the opportunity to shove James off, to reclaim the upper hand.
He didn’t let another second go to waste.
He gave a sharp twist of his wrists, one last attempt, hips rolling to flip James with a solid thump.
But he was breathless now, faltering even as he regained the vantage point, hands braced on either side of James’s shoulders, kisses sweeping down in uneven fervor.
James pulled him in close, palm sliding up the back of his neck again, holding him there as his heartbeat thudded steady under Regulus’s ear. Regulus stilled, acknowledging the unspoken conclusion James had initiated, acknowledging it as a ceasefire in his mind.
“Thank you,” James said, breath unsteady, “For unpacking… with me.”
Regulus kept his eyes closed, listening to James’s steady heartbeat. He wasn’t sure he’d unpacked anything at all. Honestly, it felt more like James had just rummaged through everything, disrupting Regulus’s process with his methodical dismantling.
He hated how much he liked the disruption.
His so-called conquest lay in ruins. He hated that he didn’t even know how to keep fighting it anymore.
He didn’t know what to do with this.
But he stayed there anyway, sprawled on top of James, pretending he hadn’t just lost the battle. Certainly not. He’d conquered James, obviously. The fingers teasing idly through his hair were for James’s benefit alone, of course. And the slow, even rise of James’s chest beneath him wasn’t the least bit tempting, not in the slightest.
But the truth pressed warm against his ear. He hadn’t properly felt this strange mix of heat and quiet calm since that night of graduation.
And before he could stop himself. Before he could drag the words back down where they belonged. He heard himself admit, low and raw, that he was grateful James had found him.
Apparently, he’d said it out loud. Because James went perfectly still beneath him, the words landed heavier than Regulus intended.
Then, low and warm, James simply said, “So am I.”
And Regulus scowled into his shoulder, mostly to hide the treacherous smile tugging at his mouth, the ultimate betrayal of all.
July 28, 1902
❖───── •✧✧• ─────❖
“Ready to learn?” Remus asked, as Lily reached the campfire where they’d spoken the night before.
“Properly,” Lily started, brushing the hair from her face. “But where? I’d rather not be in the open if I might accidentally set something alight where the Muggle troupe members can see it.”
“Already thought of that,” Remus replied, smirking faintly. “You might not like it, though. You called it eerie yesterday.”
He pointed back toward the cathedral looming over them. It wasn’t as menacing during the day, less of a looming shadow, and more of a skeleton of what it used to be.
“In there?” Lily asked, eyebrows raised. She eyed the ruin warily. “I mean… I suppose. It works.”
As they crossed the grass, a few of the troupe watched them go, though no one paid much mind. Likely they thought the pair curious after the ghost stories, or maybe religious and visiting the site out of some respect despite its condition.
Remus pushed the half-hanging door open, and stepped through the threshold. Though it couldn’t be described as entering inside anymore. Sunlight streamed through the broken walls, wind sliding easily through gaping winds and the collapsed roof.
“This must have been beautiful once,” Lily said, glancing up as they passed beneath the weathered archway.
“Probably was,” Remus agreed. He glanced up at the fractured roofline. “Something ironic about it though, don’t you think?”
“Hm?”
“You know,” Remus chuckled to himself. “Doing magic, witch and a wizard, in what used to be a cathedral.”
“Oh.” Lily smiled faintly. "Heh, yeah that is I suppose. But I did attend, once upon a time.”
Remus raised his brows slightly. “Did you now?”
“Mostly for Christmas service,” Lily explained. “Though I think we attended more when I was too young to remember. Hadn’t given it much thought,” She looked somber. “that I might be the reason those visits became more infrequent.”
Remus tilted his head, watching her carefully. “Because of the magic, I assume?”
Lily gave a shrug. “Mum never minded it, but the rest of town, well… people talk.”
“Mm.” Remus replied. He understood. He knew exactly how that went. “My mother used to attend too.”
“Yeah?”
“I think it was a rather strict church,” Remus continued. “She didn’t tell them my father was a wizard, but she didn’t need to. He wasn’t of the church, didn’t follow their doctrine. The congregation wasn’t too keen on that, and she got married outside of the church, so they didn’t accept it as legitimate. And well, mum never did care for their opinion much after that.”
“I see,” Lily hummed. “Pet, my sister, I think she was the most apt toward it all, the faith and whatnot. I really respected her for it. Wonder if I made it harder for her, after the magic showed up.”
“If you did,” Remus said lightly, “you either made her faith stronger or gave her something new to believe. Nothing wrong with either result. Either way, we didn’t come to figure out theology. Shall we?”
“Right,” Lily said with a shake of her head, and they arrived at the center of the cathedral near the altar.
“So,” Remus asked, “do you ever feel anything when your magic happens?”
“Feel it?”
“Even if it's not magic you mean to do, it's still yours. Do you feel it?”
Lily frowned at the question. “Mmm. I don’t know, maybe? It just… happens. I never thought about it until after. Usually, I just feel surprised that it popped out at all.”
Remus gave a small nod. “That’s the trouble, not thinking about it. Even if you aren’t controlling it, you can feel it, if you pay attention.” He paused, considering how best to explain. “You know how some people say they can feel a storm coming?”
“Mm, yeah. Like something in their bones?”
“Exactly. That restless feeling before the rain comes in? That’s what it’s like. Easy to treat as background noise if you don’t know better. But if you hone it, if you tune it… you can use it.”
“I see,” she said thoughtfully. “But… how?”
“I think that’s why using a wand is supposed to be easier,” Remus said. “It acts like a tuning fork. Or a lightning rod. The noise of magic is easier to focus that way. But it can be done without one, magic existed long before wands did, after all.”
“So the wand, it clears the static?” Lily asked.
“In a way, it directs it. But you can do the same. You just have to become the lightning rod yourself. Find the current of your magic and give it somewhere to go.”
“Hmmm.” She thought hard about it.
“Here.” Remus held up a hand. “I’ll try to describe what I feel as I go through it. I’m going to just make a mote of light. Usually, this is instantaneous for me now, but I’ll slow it down.”
He closed his eyes. “There’s a low-level hum that I feel, the magic. I sort of imagine a bottle-neck on that magic, narrowing it. Then I can feel the pitch change. It’s like an inner vibration, if that makes sense?”
Lily nodded, brows furrowed but following.
“Now,” Remus continued, “it’s like I’ve gathered all the scattered magic in my body, and I’ve got it held together, like I’m holding it in my fist.” He held his hand out, fingers curling. “And then I will it where I want it.”
He opened his palm. A ball of light flickered to life above it.
“If I’m distracted, it wavers,” he said, letting it flicker. Then he steadied himself, and the flow grew stronger. “But if I’m focused, it holds.”
“That’s amazing!” Lily said.
“Now, it's your turn.” Remus looked at her. “Start with light. It’s the easiest, just enough magic harnessed to catch like a spark on flint.”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
“You just keep trying until it does,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s like using a muscle. Right now it’s not trained, but it will be. And if you accidentally set something on fire, we’ll say the cathedral really was haunted… The vengeful ghost of a witch hunter or something, tried to burn us at the stake.”
Lily laughed at Remus’s bold humor, shaking her nerves off a bit.
“Alright,” She said with a grin. “Let’s see.”
She held her hand outward, as she saw Remus do. Her face creased in concentration.
Nothing happened.
“Feel for it first,” Remus said quietly. “Not with your hand. Feel for the storm inside. That vibration.”
She nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in and out, to steady herself.
“Don’t just grab at it, either.” Remus added after a moment. “Guide it. Like coaxing a cat out from under a table. Like you’re trying not to scare it away, make it comfortable.”
Lily huffed softly, but tried again, brow still furrowed.
This time, a faint crackle sparked at her fingertips before fading.
“There,” Remus said immediately. “Whatever you just felt, bring it forward. Keep at it.”
“Like static,” Lily murmured. She tried again. This time it flared brighter, held for half a second, then fizzled. She yelped in surprise, seeing it actually form for a moment.
“That!” She grinned. “I actually did it on purpose this time!”
“Yes, I saw. That was good,” Remus smiled. “Keep going, it’ll grow steadier.”
She nodded and returned to it again. It didn’t always come right away, but at last she managed to hold a decent orb of light at her fingertips for half a minute before it fizzled out.
Lily was beaming at her palm even after it faded, flexing her fingers like she’d just discovered a new muscle.
“Not bad at all,” Remus said, arms crossed where he leaned against the altar. “Keep at it whenever you have the time. Next chance to practice, we’ll try something different.”
Lily tilted her head thoughtfully, “I didn’t expect it to feel like this. it’s… sort of heavy, when it comes together. Not a bad heavy, though.”
Remus nodded. “Like a cloud before it rains. That’s how I’d describe it.”
“Exactly.” She said quickly, and looked up at him with bright eyes. “After this, you’ll teach me more?”
Remus smirked. “Can’t say I’ve taught you anything yet if this is all we’ve managed. But yes, next time.”
He pushed away from the altar and looked back towards the broken doorway. “For now, we should get back before someone thinks the ghosts got us for trespassing.”
Lily laughed, shaking her head, as she fell in step beside Remus.