unspeakable | jegulus

i won't be there with you

chapter title: think for yourself by the beatles

They missed morning classes kissing in the woods, and sprinted back across the snow for lunch. The little bruise behind Regulus' ear did a lot of the heavy lifting to explain their absence.

"Did you get some, Reggie-baby?" Barty crooned, ruffling his hair, which was somehow still neat after all of their snogging.

"Shut up, Barty." Regulus smacked his hand away, looking very much like an irritated cat. "I'm not discussing this with you."

"Jamie, did you get some?" He turned his attention to James, who smiled and mimed zipping his mouth shut. "Come on, you were gone all morning in the Forbidden Forest. What the hell were you doing? Some kind of freaky sex ritual?"

"Some people don't kiss and tell." Pandora, always their saviour, sat down at the table beside James. "Leave them alone. James is a gentleman, he'd never tell you anyways."

"You hear that, Reg? I'm a gentleman." He winked at Regulus, who glared petulantly.

"I still maintain there is nothing gentlemanly about you. You act like a muggle half the time." He haughtily picked up a glass of water. "You need some kind of etiquette lesson before you meet my parents."

"Do I?" James straightened himself, trying to remember the lessons he'd taken with the tutor his parents had hired when he was a child. "Why, Regulus? Do you find my manners unsatisfactory?" He kept perfect posture, just as his tutor had instructed him. All of those long days in his childhood balancing books on his head and learning which fork and spoon was appropriate to use with which dish were finally paying off in the expression on Regulus' face. He smiled politely, the picture of poise.

"James." Regulus looked a little pink. "What are you doing?"

"Whatever do you mean, Regulus?" He cut a minuscule slice of chicken and ate it with his fork angled correctly, his tutor would have been proud. "I'm eating lunch. Is there something amiss?" Barty put on an identical posh accent, a sharp contrast with his makeup smeared eyes and fingernails covered in chipped violet polish.

"Oh, dearest James," He paused, a devilish glint in his black eyes. "What do you make of the current Minister for Magic?" James opened his mouth in feigned scandal.

"Don't you know it's impolite to discuss politics over lunch, Bartemius?" His eyes flicked to Regulus, who was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. He was still very red.

"But Orion Black will definitely ask you." Barty smiled, shark-like. "So you need to answer."

"Alright. Here's what I think." He winked, and steeled himself with an easy smile. "Minchum thinks he's going to be able to strong arm his way to the end of the war brewing, but he's a fool. Sending dementors to Azkaban? Introducing new protection policies for mudbloods? He's offering special privileges to protect the weak, to police the few criminals he actually manages to catch with his paltry auror force, it's a sign of his own weakness. It doesn't help that a resistance, one completely outside of his control, is puppeteering his government like there's a hand up his trousers. I think he's a spineless man, Bartemius. I think he's making our world look as weak as he is, connecting it with that muggle minister like anything those inferior creatures think or feel about the world has value to us. Magic shouldn't ever look paltry in the face of muggle machines. He makes us look weaker than them. He needs to go." He smiled pleasantly. "Do you think Mr. Black will agree with that opinion, Regulus?" He met his wide eyes across the table, and Regulus nodded once. He looked mystified. "Good."