unspeakable | jegulus

we'd rather be scared together than alone

chapter title: song for bob dylan by david bowie

Regulus seemed to take what James had said to him, about showing more of his personality, to heart. It was December fifteenth, and he was talking Remus' ear off over lunch at the Gryffindor table.

"Is it really possible to transfigure a person like that?" Remus looked deeply uncomfortable, Regulus had a wide smile on his face. James would have been disturbed if he wasn't also curious about the limits of magic, and where they could be pushed. Human transfiguration was deeply taboo, but unnecessarily. Wasn't becoming an animagus a form of human transfiguration? He liked listening to them talk. "You know, I'm very gifted with spellwork related to the human body. I'm a born healer, really. Here, let me show you—"

"Why are you holding a knife? Why is he holding a knife? Are you going to—" Regulus casually rolled up his sleeve and cut open the back of his own hand. Remus paled dramatically at the sight of blood beaded there. It was a thin line, more of a scratch than a real cut. "Christ."

"Barty's cat can do more damage than this. I don't understand the theatrics." Regulus rolled his eyes. "You know, if you get comfortable with seeing your own blood you're less likely to go into shock when you get injured."

"Good to know, thanks. Yeah, I'll be sure to take up cutting myself in my spare time. What's wrong with you?"

"You should ask James. He's the expert." Regulus cleared his throat and murmured a healing spell. The cut closed instantly, and left no scar. "See! If my mother didn't have other plans for me I'd be heading straight to secondary school after graduation to become a healer. It's my gift."

"That's a shockingly gentle choice in profession, Regulus." Remus was staring at the smear of blood on his hand. "Though, I can't imagine your bedside manner would be any good. They'd have to put you in a role where you only deal with the patients after they've already had their sleeping draught, like a surgeon or something."

"I'd be an excellent surgeon." Regulus glanced at James. "Right, James?"

"I wouldn't trust you with a knife near any vital organs." James picked halfheartedly at his food. "I happen to enjoy being alive."

"You already have trusted me with a knife near your vital organs." Regulus scoffed. "You liar."

"Yeah, one time—"

"It was more than once, if I'm not mistaken." Regulus stirred his black coffee. "You're just trying to pretend you don't trust me because you know it makes you look stupid."

"Stupid?" James echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"More stupid than you usually look, I mean. Sorry, I should have clarified." There was pointed mockery in his voice. "I know sometimes you have a hard time understanding things, love. If you want I can explain it in smaller words for you."

"You're so mean to me." James pouted.

"If I wasn't mean to you you'd already be bored of me. I think you like having a project, no?"

"A project?"

"Do you need me to explain again?" Regulus furrowed his eyebrows in mock sympathy, and patted the back of his hand. "You know, James, you're lucky you're so handsome. I just can't fathom how such an empty headed—"

"So, you think I'm handsome?" James leaned toward him. Regulus smiled. His eyes, normally so icy and distant, looked sweet and warm.

"That's what I said." He reached out and pushed James' glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'm shocked your patronus is a deer and not something friendlier, like some yappy little dog."