Chapter Text
James told Regulus he couldn’t drive again until the car was fixed. Apparently, it wasn’t just one tire blown off the back, like Regulus had first assumed; but two. So, James and Moony took turns keeping the back of the car up while Regulus was forced to drive down the highway. Luckily, it was mainly deserted, so he didn’t have to deal with many other people on the road.
“Take this exit, I’m sure we’ve gone far enough, and I think we need to regroup,” James tells him softly, hand extended lazily out the window, brows knit in careful concentration. Regulus stole another look at him from the corner of his eye, chewing at his bottom lip as he jerkily veered off onto the exit. He’s glad it’s James sitting in the passenger seat instead of Moony, who had taken to glaring at Regulus like he was the worst possible thing that could’ve landed in their car.
In his defense, he might be.
“Careful!” Moony snaps as Regulus jerks the wheel too hard. He flushes angrily, tightening his hands onto the wheel, glaring at the road. James tosses Moony a disapproving look.
“Be nice.”
“Be nice? We don’t even know who he is!”
“Yes we do, he’s Regulus.”
“Oh, wonderful.”
“I’m assuming your name isn’t actually Moony?” Regulus cuts in, peering up at the fuming boy in the rearview mirror. He scowls deeply, and Regulus takes the moment to truly study him. His skin is tanned, making the silver scars marking it stand out— scars Regulus had not immediately noticed.
“No,” he snaps. Regulus waits for him to go on, but he seems content on ending his sentence there. With a sigh, he directs his eyes back to the road, biting back a scowl of his own.
“It’s just a nickname I gave him, back in camp,” James supplies in for him, giving a cheeky grin that turns devious as he peers back at Moony. “Cus’ he’s got a moon shaped birthmark on his bum.”
“Oh, that’s lovely, James, thank you. Wanna tell him my dick size next?”
“Well from my estimate it’s probably around—”
He reaches forward, smacking James on the back of the head, who shakes with silent laughter. Dora glances between them, a confused smile on her face, tugging Moony back and raising her brows. He waves her off, huffing out a breath, and her smile drops into a pout.
So they were also from a camp. Not from Azkaban, though, because nobody had ever escaped from there.
Not until Regulus and Severus, at least.
He chews his bottom lip, trying to not think of the flipped car. He didn’t exactly feel bad about it, which made him feel worse overall.
“Here, pull off here, greenie,” James instructs, sounding slightly out of breath. Regulus presses onto the brake, jerking them all forward slightly as he hits it too hard and veers off into a parking lot.
Once the car is parked, it thuds heavily back to the ground, and they all stay still for a long moment, just planted into their seats. It’s like no one wants to move, in case it’ll break the spell of calm that has finally settled over them.
Finally, James shifts, dropping his head onto the dashboard with a loud groan. “Welp, Moons, come help me replace these tires. I saw a couple parked cars and for sure a van in this lot.”
Moony groans loudly as well, but throws his door open and slams it shut behind him. James snorts softly, sliding Regulus a glance from the corner of his eye before clambering out as well. Pandora is the next one out, tossing Regulus a shy smile before exiting, and then he’s left alone. He slumps down into the seat, dragging his hands down his face and exhaling heavily.
He peers down to his uniform, dirtied and ruined, as he chews the skin off his lip.
They thought he was a green.
That was good. He could work with that.
He reaches into the backseat, tugging up his pack from where it had slid beneath the seats and jammed. His hands are still shaking violently, and he twists them into the straps of the pack, burying his face into the black fabric and exhaling heavily, as if could rid his body of all the adrenaline that pumped through it.
He stays like that for a long while, trying not to tremble, forcing the choking sensation down that had begun to ball up in his throat.
Where did he go from here?
Home?
There would be nothing left for him there anymore. There would be no point in returning.
You could look for your brother.
He opens the pack, tugging out the clothes stuffed inside. A plain black shirt, jeans, and thank the gods, plain black shoes. He’s not that worried about sizing — he’s used to things not fitting him fully from his years in Azkaban.
A sharp rap at his window startles him out of his admiration, and James gives him a grin, curling a finger and motioning for him to join them outside. Frowning, he slowly opens the door, sliding out.
“Hey there, greenie, how you doing?”
His frown deepens, and he shifts from foot to foot, giving an awkward shrug.
“Oh, lovely. Well I’m doing great myself thanks for asking.”
Regulus gives him a deadpanned expression, crossing his arms over himself, and James snickers softly. “Okay, not the joking type, got it. One day I’ll get you to laugh.”
He couldn’t imagine that. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually even snickered and meant it in anything other than sarcasm.
When he sees he’s not going to get a response, James’ smile slips softly, and he shifts, motioning behind Regulus. “Here, grab your shirt.”
Regulus gives him a deeper frown, arms tightening around himself. “I’m not changing out here.”
James snorts, raising his eyebrows. “Though I’m sure that would be a sight to behold, I’m not asking you to strip, doll. Here, hand it to me.”
He flushes down his neck, fumbling for the shirt and tossing it at the boy. James catches it easily, then runs his thumb along the collar, grimacing as he finds whatever he’s looking for. “Here, feel right here,” he presses closer, and Regulus cringes back, chewing at his lip. James gives him a studying look, waiting for Regulus to do as he’s asked.
His finger hits something firm in the collar, just a little ball of metal. His brows furrow, and he peers up at James’ questioningly.
“It’s a tracker. They put them in all the clothes.”
Ah. Well that suddenly made a lot of things clearer. His stomach drops, and he hopes his expression isn't as horrified as it feels.
“Here, you should change. There’s a knife in the middle console, you’ll have to pry them out. Check the pants, the shoes– even the shirt again. I wouldn’t put it past them.”
Regulus nods distantly, peering back at James through his lashes. James gives him an encouraging smile, though there's still the tilt of a grimace to it. He goes to clap him on the shoulder, then thinks better of it and drops his hand.
True to his guess, each item had another tracker in them. Two in the pants, one in each shoe, and one more in the shirt he’d almost missed. Nausea twists his stomach angrily as he climbs back out the van, pursing his lips as he trudges back to James. The shoes were half a size too small, and the shirt hung baggie on his frame.
“Here, I’ll get rid of them,” James tells him, holding up a hand for the tiny bugs as his other hand works the tire, easing it into the space without even touching it. Regulus lowers them into the outstretched palm, careful not to brush his skin, then retreats quickly so as to not disturb his concentration. He thinks he hears James call out a soft wait, but he doesn’t stop to check.
He paces to the front of the shop they were at— just a little store of overpriced travel needs and souvenirs from the looks of it. He drops to a crouch in front of the door, wrapping his arms around his knees as he stares into the reflection of the window, just barely able to make out the distorted frame of himself. His body still aches, but it's a dull thrum compared to what it had been before. Maybe it was just his anxiety overshadowing it now, trembling within him and knotting his stomach.
He’s able to see Pandora’s approach in the reflection, where she pauses behind him for a long while, looking stricken. Finally, he turns to face her, startling her out of whatever she was thinking. She gives a small smile, then holds out something to him— a beef stick. He blinks, his stomach growling painfully. He hadn’t even realized how long it’d been since he’d eaten anything.
“Thank you,” he says softly, reaching up to take the snack. She beams, and he turns his face away from the sight, fidgeting with the food. He doesn’t look back as he asks, “Your name's Pandora, right?”
She doesn’t reply, and after a long beat of silence he peers over, frowning. Her brows are knit, her eyes focused on his face. “Is it… not that?”
“She’s deaf.”
He blinks, jerking his gaze over to Moony, who is hauling a wheel back over to where James waits at the van. James is laughing as he walks over to help.
“Oh,” Regulus retorts, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He couldn't imagine being deaf in a world like this, where you needed to be on constant guard. After a moment, he looks back to the girl, whose eyes are darting between the two of them. He raises his hands hesitantly, drops them, then raises them back up.
“Do you know sign?”
Her eyes go comically wide, and she bounces once, then twice, whipping her head back to peer at James and Moony. They both stare at him, James’ eyebrows raised and a smile on his face.
“Ah, damn, look at me being shown up by the new kid.” He sighs, shaking his head in mock shame. Dora giggles, bouncing on her toes, whirling to face Regulus again. Her hands fly almost too fast for him to keep up with.
‘You know sign language!’
He feels himself smile softly, hesitantly, flaming under the threes scrutiny.
“Yes. I learned it in — from my friend.” They had needed a way to communicate, since no speaking was allowed anywhere. With a rule like that, you end up finding ways around it. Evan had known sign language; apparently his sister and him had a similar rule back in their house. No speaking. They’d learned it together over time, a secret language they shared between one another.
“Moony knows it too. They’ve been teaching it to me slowly but surely. Here I am, the only twat who can’t properly communicate with his friend,” James has stopped before the two of them, dropping a hand atop Pandora’s head and staring down at Regulus with a smile. He shrinks under the gaze, fiddling with the edge of his too big shirt. “In my defense, it was a very sudden development on her part. And apparently, everybody and their mothers learned sign language when they were young.”
“It’s not some super rare trait, James,” Moony retorts where he’s working on the wheel, scowling at the three of them. Regulus’ brows furrow slightly, and he turns back to Pandora.
“You weren’t born deaf?”
She gives her head a shake, then makes a popping motion beside her ears. When he raises his brows, she spells it out for him, huffing out a breath.
‘Trouble with my abilities. I caused a short circuit and was there for the aftermath.’
“Ah,” he blinks, eyes dropping to those bright yellow gloves. “You’re— a yellow?”
She hesitates, then nods, raising a finger as if to swipe hair behind her ears. She pauses, then drops it, frowning. James has stiffened slightly, and he drops his hand from her head to her shoulder.
“She’s just human,” he says firmly, “like the rest of us.” There’s something defensive in his gaze, in the way he holds her, and it takes Regulus a moment to realize he thinks he’s going to judge her.
If only you knew.
He shrugs, chewing at his lip, and James relaxes, smiling down at Pandora. “Dora, why don’t you go picnic in the back of the van while we finish up the tires? We’re almost done.” His sign language was definitely choppy, but it was better than Regulus had expected. Pandora gets the jist of it, because she gives Regulus one last beaming smile before bounding off to the car. James hesitates, wavering, before offering a hand down to Regulus. Like usual, Regulus stands without it, dusting himself off, and James sighs, looking almost amused.
Moony finishes off the wheel, and James slides the van door open, making a grand gesture of allowing Regulus inside. Before he can climb in, though, an arm streaks out and slams it shut.
“Moony!”
“Why is the Order after your ass?”
“Moony,” James repeats, sounding exasperated.
“Nuh uh, James, don’t give me that. We just had the order gunning down on our asses! This is serious!”
James sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. Pandora’s pressed to the window behind them, now, peering down at the scene. Moony has turned back to Regulus, waiting, glaring, arms crossed over himself. “Well?”
“I– I just—” He presses back against the door, wringing his hands. “They broke me out of my camp.”
“Yeah, I got that part. But what makes you so special to break out? They wouldn’t go to those limits for nothing. Chasing you down? For what?”
He can’t tell them. He can’t. He can’t watch the fear and disgust that would cross their faces knowing. He doesn’t know why the idea of being shunned by them scares him so much, but Pandora– James, there’s something about him that has his stomach digesting itself into a painful knot.
They’ll hate you. They’ll turn you in or kick you to the curb and leave you behind to be captured.
“The Order isn’t an in and out organization, Moons,” James says, voice taut. “It’s an in and you stay in or you die trying to escape organization.”
He said it like he had experience with the matter. Like he knew it first hand.
Moony blows out a breath, crossing his arms, raising his brows. He’s still waiting for something, and Regulus has no clue what to give him.
“They- they needed greens to help test a plan of theirs out,” he blurts, mouth dry, throat tight.
“What plan?” Moony retorts suspiciously.
“I don’t know, they didn’t disclose that information, they were going to wait until we were back to whatever ‘Order’ this is. They infiltrated the camp to test the first part of their project out to see if it would work. They pulled out greens with the highest testing score and who could work hands on with gadgets and electronics.”
He pulls the lie completely out of his ass, and he’s sure Moony sees straight through him. James, though, claps, sated. “See, Moons? You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
“And your friend? What’s the deal with him? Same reason?”
“Severus?” He asks, startled. He feels his shoulders droop, relaxing from the change in topic. “I dunno, I didn’t really know him at all. We only just met.”
“Bullshit,” Moony retorts, startling him as he waves a hand, then glares back to James. “We knew pretty much everyone in our camp by the time we broke out, especially the ones in our color.”
Broke out? How the hell did they manage that? He opens and closes his mouth for a long moment, before blurting, “all thousands?”
Both boys took a physical step back, giving him a startled look like he’d shocked the words straight out their mouths.
“Thousands? How many thousands?”
Regulus gives him a mystified expression. “I don’t know? Two? Three?” He tallies the math the best he can, trying to indiscreetly count off his fingers. “Three something.”
“Bullshit!” Moony exclaims, throwing his hands up. James smacks at him.
“What? How many did your camp have?” He retorts, crossing his arms as he scowls.
“Maybe three hundred at most.” Regulus stares, pursing his lips, and James continues after a moment, laughing out a breath. “You’re sure? Three thousand?”
“Well— something around that, I never really took the time to count or anything. There were thirty of us to each cabin, the boys and girls segregated, and at least a hundred cabins. It weaned off some because they killed– they got rid of the Yellows, Reds and Oranges.”
James makes a soft noise, like laughter that he couldn’t choke out quite right. “What- what camp were you in?” He finally manages out, sounding strangled. Regulus scowls, pinching at his skin nervously as he diverts his gaze.
“None of your business. What camp were you in?”
“We were in Durmstrang,” Moony answers easily to his sarcasm. Heat floods his cheeks, frustrated and flustered. “They stuck us in an abandoned elementary school. Now your turn.”
All of them could fit into an elementary? They didn’t have a whole camp built for them, towering up into the sky and watching the buildings inside be built from the ground up?
“Azkaban,” he finally answers, working his jaw as he turns his nose up. Both Moony and James gasp, snapping their eyes to one another, then back to him. Regulus frowns, darting his eyes away.
“You’re kidding,” James finally says after a long beat of silence. “Azkaban Azkaban? Crazy Azkaban? With the testing and the actual torture machines made?”
Regulus twitches, giving a wry smile. “I didn’t know we had a whole reputation.”
“No I– I just— it was all filled up, I mean. Has been for a while, I thought, which is why we were shipped off far north.”
“You were young, weren’t you?” Moony cuts in, voice softer than Regulus had heard it thus far. He thinks he prefers his snark to whatever this is, knitted brows and pursed lips. Regulus gives him an equally strange look, glancing between the two of them in slight confusion.
“I mean, well, yeah? I was eight.”
They go silent again, and he hates the way they seem to speak silently to each other. Him and his brother used to be similar when they were young— they had a way of communicating without even opening their mouths. This is what they reminded him of.
“Why, how old were you guys, then?” He asks, tongue running along his teeth. James answers after a hesitant moment, foot tapping on the ground softly.
“I was seventeen. Moony came a little after, around the same age. Pandora was fourteen.”
Regulus stares, opens his mouth, shuts it, then stares a little more. “How long were you guys in for?”
“A year and a half. Moons was a year, Pandora I think two and a half.”
Something dark and ugly twists inside Regulus, and he drops his gaze.
“I thought all the kids got taken young,” he says softly, hating how small and pathetic he sounds. James makes a low noise, scratching the back of his head. “That’s what they told us. They said all the sick kids got taken.
“We’re not sick,” Moony says at the same time James replies, their voices overlapping.
“A lot did, from what I know. My mom, she hid me and my friend away for a while. We went out on our own when I turned sixteen. I think a lot of parents did the same, like Moons. Dora has been out on the run for a while from what I know.”
Not fair. This isn’t fair.
I’ve spent my whole life rotting in that camp. It’s been my home for so long. It’s not fair. Not fair.
He knew he wasn’t being fair to them, either, the way anger and jealousy and dark dark bitterness rose in his throat and stabbed behind his eyes. It didn’t matter how long you were in a camp, it broke you. But he couldn’t help it, the way his vision sharpened into tunnels on their shoes, the way his ears roared so loud he almost couldn't make out his own choppy breaths.
“What are you now? Sixteen?” James asks softly, rubbing at his arm nervously.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. What year is it?” He asks low, still not glancing up.
Remus snorts, but the sound falls flat at whatever expression Regulus wore. He clears his throat, glancing to James as if for help, but James’ expression has gone completely blank, eyes wide, lips rolled together.
Stop it, he pleads, fingers tangling painfully in the hem of his shirt. Don’t look at me like that. Like I’m something to be pitied. Like I’m something ruined.
It was almost ironic, how they stared at him like the pitiful, pathetic creature he surely was. Because deep down he knew he was a monster, a freak worse than any of them. A sheep in wolf's clothing.
When James tells him the year, voice soft and a little hoarse, Regulus has to count back from his birth year up just to remember the year he was taken in. They stare at him as he flicks off fingers behind his back, eyes downcast.
“Eighteen, then,” he says quickly once he’s got it, and James makes another strangled noise, raking a hand down his face and then holding it there. He runs his eyes along his form once, then twice, as if the information surprised him.
A decade. He’d spent a decade in that camp.
He swallows thickly, awkwardly, not meeting either of their eyes. “They’re still creating new camps, then?” He asks, trying to cover up the pitied silence that had overtaken them.
“Not really anymore, no,” James mutters, clearing his throat, crossing his arms. “Birth rates dropped off a lot in the past years, even before the President tried banning new births; people were scared. Most kids that still get sent to camps are just ones who hadn’t been caught yet.”
Regulus nods slowly, staring at the ground, at his too tight sneakers.
“At Azkaban, did they really–”
“Remus,” James cuts in, voice sharper than Regulus had yet to hear it. He softens it, peering over at him through his lashes. “I think it’s about time we hit the road again.”
Moony, or Remus, makes a low noise, studying Regulus as James continues. “He answered your questions,” he reaches around Regulus to gently push the door open.
“And we’re just going to– what, keep him?”
“I’m not a dog,” Regulus retorts. Remus rolls his eyes, and Regulus is actually grateful to see the pity gone and frustrated exasperation returned.
“No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dog quite as mangy as you are.”
Regulus tosses him a scowl as James smacks at him.
“No, we’ll just drop him off at the nearest train station,” James replies easily. Regulus drops his eyes, wringing at his hands as Remus makes a strangled noise.
He climbs into the seat, letting the door shudder shut behind him. For a long while, no one speaks, and the only sound is the rumbling of the van.
˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
It had begun to drizzle again. The rain thumped out a soft tune on the top of the car's roof, one eventually drowned out as Remus reached forward and clicked the radio on, listening to the chatter of hosts. It had been so long since he’d heard music that when the first song plays, something familiar but distant in the back of his mind, he feels something hot press to the back of his eyes.
He talks to Dora some until she drifts off into sleep, and eventually Remus follows, head craned at what looks like an uncomfortable angle against his arm and the window. James hums softly, tapping his fingers on the wheel.
“You got a last name, Greenie?”
Regulus startles out of his thoughts, frowning softly. He looks away from the rain sliding down the window and to James, who is peering at him through the rearview mirror.
“No,” he lies, because it’s easier than the truth.
“No,” James repeats, sounding softly amused. He doesn’t press, though.
“You?” He asks, awkwardness drilling down heavy into the silence again. He doesn’t know how to interact with people anymore. Especially not people like James. James gives him a smile; a grin, like he was happy to be asked.
“Potter,” he replies proudly, his crooked grin enough to light up the darkening car. Regulus snorts softly, picking at the fabric at his knee.
“Potter,” he repeats, and James hums out a breath.
“So, Potter. How come you didn’t kick me to the curb when I told you to?” When James gives him a confused look, he continues, “back on the road, with the Order chasing us.”
James’ reply is easy, as if he didn’t even have to think about it. “Did you wanna go back?” Regulus hesitates, peering up at him, brows knitting. James grins at his silence. “Exactly.”
As if it was truly that simple.
Regulus sighs, curling his knees to his chest, studying the boy in front of him. He might not really be a boy anymore, maybe eighteen or nineteen if Regulus’ math was correct– but he had this boyish charm about him. One that Regulus couldn’t tell if he enjoyed or not.
At the next song that starts to play low on the radio, Regulus sits up, gasping softly. James flicks his eyes back to him, then drops them to the radio when he sees where he’s gazing. A slow smile curls his lips.
“You like Queen? Or Bowie? You know, I used to have a record with this song on it. It was my favorite. I lent it to my friend once, and, alas, never got it back. Wasn’t really his fault, but I think about that damn record often.”
Regulus almost smiles, biting at his bottom lip as James drums out his fingers along to the tune on the wheel. “My brother's favorite song.”
“Oh! You have a brother?”
His face immediately shutters shut again, and James’ expression falls slightly. He nods after a moment, another slow smile on his face. He turns the song up, then begins to sing along; horribly offtune. Regulus has to bite his tongue to choke down his startled laugh.
“I like when they sing it,”
James gives him an offended look, though he laughs, head tossing back slightly. “How dare you!”
Regulus does smile now, pressing it into the back of his hand as James continues on.
“Give love! Give love! Give love!”
Regulus shakes his head, leaning it into the window, studying James as he bobs his head along. Remus stirs, shushing him loudly, but James holds a finger up to him, hushing him in return.
“Cause loves such an old fashioned word, and love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, and love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves!”
Regulus drifts to sleep to the low sound of James’ singing and a song that blooms open a part of him he’d long since forgotten.