unspeakable | jegulus

i feel my finger on your trigger

chapter title: happiness is a warm gun by the beatles.

James pulled at the collar of his shirt, frowning, and felt a familiar hand close around his wrist. James looked down and tried to convince himself he wasn't nervous. It didn't work. He pressed his lips together.

"It's fine, Regulus." He watched his silver eyes dart over his face and knew he didn't believe him. Fair enough. James wouldn't have believed himself either.

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James usually liked parties, even parties like this one. He was in his element when he was surrounded by life and noise. It was natural for him, charming these people. He'd never really cared very much about what his parents' friends thought of him when he'd attended their parties as a child. He remembered lounging carelessly on the fainting couches at the edges of rooms, his feet in his shiniest black shoes, pointed at the ceiling, the music always low enough it didn't overpower the conversation all around him, the clinking of glasses. The whisper of servers conversing seemed to be the only thing the music was meant to cover. People were drawn to him, they'd stand beside the couch, or in the corner of the room, or at the table where he sat with a leg up on a chair, trying to talk to him, and James had slouched, and stretched, and gritted his teeth, and smiled to get through it once or twice a year. He liked the theatre of these sorts of parties, everyone wearing a mask and playing their part correctly. He knew his part well, so he was happy to play it.

This party was something else entirely. Regulus had abandoned him almost the second they crossed the threshold into Malfoy Manor, dragged off by his mother to talk to someone named Cygnus.

His parting remark was, "Just look for Pandora!" Right. I'll just do that, James thought to himself bitterly while he smiled at Walburga. Regulus had looked apologetic about it, at least.

James had a glass in his hand he didn't drink from. The music was loud, and everyone was dancing. The Manor was opulent. Too opulent. It was almost gaudy, it was so excessive. Everything was silver and white and black, including the outfits of everyone in attendance. Every witch was in a floor length gown, every wizard was in formal robes, even James. All in black, like a funeral. Most of the faces were faces that James didn't recognize. He fidgeted with his cufflinks, with the snake shaped ring on his finger, then finally took a sip out of his glass. It was something bubbly and unfamiliar and golden that didn't taste like alcohol. He watched the bubbles rise to the top of the glass. He wanted a cigarette.

"Did that drink do something to offend you?" A familiar, wry voice asked beside him. James looked at Evan out of the corner of his eye. A strange, guilty feeling coiled in his chest. A secret that wasn't his, but was his to keep. It felt worse than the other lies he'd been telling lately. It felt personal that he was keeping what Barty confessed from him. Was Regulus ever going to tell him? He'd crack open my chest and eat my heart... This entire situation was so messy it was giving James a headache.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said quietly. "Do you like parties?"

"Not particularly." Evan leaned against the wall beside him. They were shoulder to shoulder. "Do you need someone to introduce you to our present company? Usually that sort of thing would fall to Regulus, but it seems that he's left you to the wolves alone."

"Walburga swept him off to see Cygnus as soon as we got through the doors." Evan frowned and stared into his own glass contemplatively. James tried to swallow the terrible feeling rising in his throat and failed.

"Cygnus is bad news. He's Regulus' uncle, Narcissa and Bellatrix's father."

"I haven't met Narcissa or Bellatrix yet either."