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James Potter was not always proud. Quite contrary, a recluse with only three other friends, a werewolf, a dog and a rat. The Marauders. Over the next years at this school they became kings, to a degree. Pranks were pulled, detention was always on the table, mischief managed. James Potter always had a little regret, a lot more then a little. Not every prank was harmless, not every prank ended in laughs and detention. Not this one. Certainly not this one.
Sverus Snape was always one of the main targets of pranks, his snide attitude and reclusive behaviour, the way he hung out only with Slythern house and called every other person either a “Mudblood” or “Blood Traitor” ticked almost everyone off, especially James. One night, when he cradled Lilly in his arms as she sobbed: “J-james, he, he” Her cries of agony echoed in the common room, she shivered like a leaf. He was supposed to be a friend to her. Guess not
Or the time he beat the bloke bloody for insulting Sirius, his fists “snake blood”, as he said to Regulus, when he was the one rinsing his hands off, half proud of his then friend for defending his estranged brother, in a way he never could, but wished.
The prank was to happen at moonlight, a full moon, the size of cheese. Moony was careful, so were the Marauders. The fight happened near a month ago, yet Snape seemingly still continued nasty words.
Skipping along the howling wind and willow trees, anyone in the distance could hear the screams of Severus Snape, being chased and antagonised by turned werewolf Remus Lupin. Stifled breaths, howling of dogs and galloping of stags echoed the forest oh so forbidden to witness,
Snape ended up in the hospital wing. So did Remus, Sirius, and Peter.
James was hopeless, utterly hopeless.
Drank himself to sleep or had blood trickling from his hands, wounds opened or fresh . He loathed the sight of Sirius, he loathed the sight of Snape. Reminded him, made him guilty, weak.
Potter was a proud man, had many badges and diplomas for various things around Hogwarts. Praised for existing, for being brave, but the sleeves of his blouse were no longer rolled up, no longer a sign of juvenile delinquency they once were.
Crouch Junior picked that up fast, he slithered under the skin of everyone who dared to be proud and brave. Not to mention, Junior would relentlessly tease Regulus for ever even looking at James, snickering as he passed down the halls. Regulus only ever claimed to admire the boy from a distance, because he did. Or wished he could do more.
“Look at Potter, bloody Potter. Are those scratches from? Flying silly brooms? Beating snakes?” Junior's voice would echo, as he smoothed his freshly combed hair, slick, or greasy? James would never lower his head, his gaze would darken and his chin rise up. He tried to act more snobbish, more brave, but everyone could see through that. Regulus could, but, was Regulus everyone? To James, at least?
The prank on the moon subsided, The Marauders finally together again, the rat, wolf, stag and dog, but with a new not so secret addition, a ginger dame. Evans.
The five friends would hang loose and have fun. But every so often James would look at the Slytery table at the hall. He’d gaze at Regulus next to Crouch Junior, his eyes would squint, as to make something out.
“Why you lookin’ at the Slytherin Skittles ‘eh?” Sirius joshed at James, earring a playful snort from Peter. Lilly would poke James in the shoulder
He was staring lovesick at Regulus again, you could hear Junior laugh at his sleeves, regulus only smiling vaguely, he never meant it.
Many months have passed since James and Regulus have dated, almost a year. The war began long ago, in the summer solstice, as their divination professor would say while crushing up some egg shells for a spell.
James would still feel guilt, he still feels guilt. He’s more mature now, he has a desire to stop witch childish antics Peter and Sirius still indulge in. Remus is in his own bubble with Lilly, gushing about their partners Pandora and Sirius, wild in every way.
He can never tell the world about Reggie, the way he kisses his temple, the way his hands interlock under tables with his. The way her whispers a praise before a game of quidditch, the way their glove hands brush when catching the Quaffle, ,
Any of that, none of it,
His hands were also holding the world, Sirius helping him, being head boy, captain of Gryffindor, and more. Keeping secrets from friends. He loathed it.
More cuts, more scratches, he’d take it all. He is all.
It was the holidays, Christmas break, January snowflakes tore across the winds of the school. James and Regulus walk around, hand in hand, somewhere hidden, secret. James is teasing Regulus “My darling, do you need to hold my hand, ma darling reggie” He’d coo at him, Regulus pretend to hate it, he loves it.
They find a clearing, a snowcap in the woods, away from the castle and the creatures. Only the wind and their voices. Under the tree they sit, James holding onto Regulus, trying to warm the shivering boy. “Have I ever told my Reggie how beautiful he is in the snow?” “James, stop it, you are making me blush” Regulus laughed. So did James.
Then a sound could be heard, some wailing, something.
Then, swiftly, James dove right in, without thinking. Only protecting regulus. Regulus held onto James, trying to pull him back, but instead, only left with the sleeve of his sweater.
For Regulus, the world unravels like the treads of a sweater. James had scratches, cuts, all over his hands. James Potter cuts himself, and after almost a year of being in a relationship with him he didn't even notice. But from what? For what?
James Potter never bothered anyone, he was too proud of a man. But under woolly blankets he was a bloody mess of cries and cuts, the ones dragged even onto his animagus. He had come to terms with the fact. He hated it. He hated himself simply for not being able to relish in the fact that he should be happy with himself, who he is. Regulus, a little dim light whom he cradles in his arms, when he is sad, knows nothing of his issues. He would not have told a single soul. Not even the bruised and battered Regulus Black, whom he thought about telling but never could.
James is beating Barty Crouch Junior to a pulp, blood on his hands, the words “Boy kisser” “Cutter” echoed in the air, all from Coruches dirty mouth. If James could wash it with soap, he would. “Fuck off!” James said in between punches,
James quickly scurries over to Regulus, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him away, leaving the blonde boy for someone else to care about.
Regulus is still holding onto his boyfriend's sleeve, clutching it as a realisation of what exactly he uncovered.
James never told him, Regulus never asked