KNOWING ME KNOWING YOU ⇒ jegulus one shots

SOLDIER DOWN ON THAT ICY GROUND

James knows, realistically, that he should be outside, in the castle yard, with Sirius and Remus and the other Aurors.

But he needed a minute to think.

Just think.

Gather his thoughts, breathe deeply, and think.

Voldemort has just been taken down, James is rather confident that it was McGonagall herself who shot the curse at him; sending him into blistering shards of nothing across the castle yard. James had never witnessed anything like it ever before in his twenty years of life.

He breathes deeply as he slips into The Room Of Requirement, his mind a mess, his memory tampered with the events of the past few hours. Due to his lack of efficiency within his own head, James isn't aware that he is not alone until a wand is pointed right at his nose. The person at the other end of the wand is none other than Sirius' younger brother; also breathing erratically, his face ivory and stunned, cheek bones hollowed, silvery eyes untrusting.

James swallows. "Black," He breathes, holding his hands up slowly and hesitently. Perhaps as a beacon of peace, in light of Voldemort's defeat.

Regulus halts him. "Don't move another muscle, Potter," He whispers. His voice is hoarse and low, a faint, silky rasp. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw is clenched in a tight manner. He looks almost on edge.

James nods. "Alright," He answers. "Okay," He says through a shallow breath. "I...I don't mean any harm. I don't even have my wand on me, you know," He reasons. "I left it with Dorcas in the yard-"

At this, Regulus lowers his wand, bringing it back to his side as his hands fall limp at his side. "Oh," He mutters. "Oh, I didn't realize," He almost seems apologetic.

James nods again, this time he does hold his hands up in defense before himself. "I won't hurt you," He says clearly. "The war has ended. You...you don't have to fight me-"

"Wasn't planning on it, Potter," Regulus cuts in quickly, his voice sharp like that of a knife. "It...well, it was more of a cautionary action-"

"To raise your wand inches from my fucking eyes?!" James is breathless, his anxiety still present. "You could've poked my eye out,"

"I could've done much worse, actually,"

James bites his lip. "As I said, we don't have to fight, Black. The was is over. Your lord is gone,"

"He was never my lord," Regulus spits suddenly.

"Yeah? Well, you've done a pretty brilliant job at acting as his little employer," James snaps shortly.

Regulus narrows his grey eyes even more. "Tell me, Potter, what is it like to grow up so privileged that you don't have to fight to survive? I've always wondered what that's like," He snarks pettily.

"Privileged?" James echoes. "You want to talk about privilege, Black? You know everything about privilege! You're the most privileged bastard I've ever met," He says coldly. "Mummy and daddy's little prince, leaving poor Sirius to the terror of that house while mummy groomed back your hair and tucked you in at night and told you what a good son you are,"

He feels angry, James feels every single piece of anger bubble beneath his skin, course through his veins. Regulus Black will never understand the terror and pain and torture that Sirius endured, he will never know the agony Sirius faced.

Because Regulus himself never had to face it.

He was always deemed the better son, the better brother, the better boy.