unspeakable | jegulus

sweetness in the dark

chapter title: car on a hill by joni mitchell

James woke up crying. Vicious sobs punched their way out of him, frantic and awful, a strangled, ugly sound ripping its way out of his throat, hands helplessly pulling at his own skin where he could still feel a vile spell singing in his blood. Regulus cradled him in his arms, shushing him, running a hand through his hair, eyes closed, still mostly asleep.

"Shh, angel..."

"I'm so sorry," James sobbed, shaking all over, pulling at his arms, his wrists. Regulus took his hands, settling them, humming something under his breath. The song was familiar, like a lullaby he'd heard in a past life."I don't want to do it... I didn't want to do it. I had to— I never wanted to hurt her, she was going to hurt you, she said, she told me–"

"Shh..." Regulus grabbed his cheek and pressed their foreheads together, muttering nonsense in French, sleepily pressing wet kisses to his cheeks and his mouth, ignoring his tears. "Your dreams... it's only dreams, soleil," he muttered more soothing, incomprehensible French in his ear, his voice low and rough with sleep. James buried his face in the side of his neck, and they clung to each other in the dark while he cried until the smell of his skin and his whispers on the shell of his ear lulled him back to sleep. His dreams were violent and disjointed. Green eyes, blood, a knife in his back that he couldn't reach, grappling at his spine until the pain changed, and great bloody wings ripped their way out from under his skin, unfurling, and then the floor wasn't under him anymore, the blood on his hands was redder, covering his forearms, his throat, and he was plummeting, wings just made and already broken, toward something fiery instead of toward the ground.

James blinked his way into daylight breathless, his heart hammering, and found that he was sandwiched between both of the Black brothers. Sirius was holding one side of him, Regulus the other, and they were both dead asleep— as they always were first thing in the morning.

James sank back into bed and stayed there until they both woke up, watching the sun crawl across the ceiling.

——————

He left his mother's house with his arms full of baked goods that were ostensibly just for him, but with a handful tucked into a very nice box "for Walburga and Orion Black" to keep some semblance of civility between his parents and his future in-laws.

Walburga greeted them as soon as they stepped out of the floo. Regulus set the bags he was carrying aside carelessly and hugged his mother. It was one of those shivery, icy little hugs she was so expert at dispensing.

"Did you have a nice time?" She smiled at Regulus fondly, and touched his cheek. Her silvery eyes were intent on him, his eyes. James had an awful feeling that she might be looking into his mind the way Regulus told him she liked to do whenever he spent any time away from her, the cause of his lockbox mind and eternal mask. Nothing belonged to him, not even his own mind. James interrupted, forcefully, hugging Walburga Black—something he never imagined he'd be so readily willing to do—and putting the neatly wrapped box of cookies, pastries, and cakes in her hands. "What is this?"

"A Christmas gift, from my mum." He dropped a second little wrapped gift on top. "She also told me to bring you this."

Walburga's expression looked strangely guarded. James wondered if she ever felt inadequate, insecure, that her own son had chosen a different mother for himself when he'd been given the chance.

She carefully unwrapped the silver scarf his mum had made while Regulus was swaddled in blankets on her couch, her knitting needles unnaturally quick, her creations unnaturally perfect.