THE SCARS ON MY BODY ● JEGULUS |MARAUDERS|

✰EIGHTY-ONE✰

HEY, PEOPLE...I KNOW I'VE BEEN TERRIBLE AT UPLOADING RECENTLY...I'M SO SORRY. I PROMISE YOU THAT I'M TRYING MY BEST.

QUICK QUESTION: WOULD YOU PREFER THIS TO BE ONE LONG BOOK, OR SHOULD I MAKE THE SECOND HALF INTO A SEQUEL? IT'S UP TO YOU xx

LOVE YOU GUYS, I'VE MISSED YOU <3

_____________________

✰ He wanted Crouch dead.

Dead and out of the way.

Away from Reggie.

Away from his fucking Reggie ✰

_____________________

James' expression was dark, chin tilted down, eyes slightly squinted, lips forced tightly closed, as he watched the Marauders' map with an inquisitiveness he did not quite understand. It was the early afternoon, sun high in the sky, laughing and childish screaming coming from the students outside and down in the common room below. Remus, Peter and Sirius were all in their own lessons - Sirius and Peter in Charms and Remus in History of Magic - whilst James was on lunch break. He should have been messing around in the grass, getting sunburnt and kicking water at people sitting by the lake, not hunched over an enchanted piece of parchment, not knowing whether to be concerned or annoyed. 

Regulus Black was with Bartemius Crouch Jr.

Alone.

They were stood extremely close, their names hovering over one another on the map. They were just hugging, James told himself, just a casual pat on the back. But, the longer the names remained together, the more intolerant James became. Just hugging. Just a remarkably prolonged hug.

Yet, we all have that one, hushed voice in our heads that just can't seem to conform with the rest. The one that mutters under its breath or whispers into our ears. It's always the voice we know we shouldn't listen to, but it is clever, it is smart. For it is in your head, hence it knows your flaws, your suspicions, your trepidations. It's manipulative. They're kissing, it says, surely kissing.

This is why the dorm is left unattended, one window creeping open with a fresh breeze passing through - Peter would be sneezing for weeks, his hayfever was indescribable. The boy had left, on his route to the Slytherin common room's entrance, for that is the corridor of which the two boys remained. James' sleeves were rolled up to just above his elbows, his tie half undone and his shirt untucked. As a head boy, if he were to be seen by a professor in such a state as he found himself in now, then he'd undoubtedly be lectured, perhaps they'd even take away his badge, but he was not thinking of these things as he strutted down the halls, glasses threatening to fall off. Maybe Crouch was hurting Regulus, James wouldn't put it past him. Regulus loathed Crouch, did he not?

He leapt down the last two stairs of the staircase he'd been jogging down, praying that he wouldn't trip over his untied laces. One staircase down, thirty-two left to go.

***

He tasted like chocolate. That's all Regulus could comprehend. The sweet stamp of chocolate chips on his tongue, perhaps even cinnamon too. For someone with such a sour tone, he certainly had a sweet mouth. 

You could ask what was going on, but Regulus would be incompetent of explaining it to you. His mind was so twisted by the lies and realities of the world that he was no longer capable of telling whether something was a joke or the truth. He was kissing Barty. Or was Barty kissing him? Were they even technically kissing? Were they meant to be kissing? Did Barty realise they were kissing?