Chapter Text
Remus notices, he’s not stupid, he sees when James seems to slip, days passing as James isn’t fully present—smiles an imitation of what they usually are.
It’s not like Remus can say anything—Merlin knows he’s awful at being open—but when James, biggest ego and an even bigger heart starts to stop wearing his heart on his sleeve, it’s something Remus notes, something to watch out for.
It’s in the way James is more reckless, less careful with himself, toeing the line of self-sabotage with how he carries himself. It’s not out of character for him, always the showoff, always confident, it’s just unsettling to watch James be so careless.
Still—James goes to help others, holding them up and offering advice he doesn’t follow himself. Remus watches as James busies himself with pouring his energy into others, more so than usual, never settling in one place. Remus thinks it’s not purposeful, just James putting others before himself, but the thought doesn’t sit right with him, sitting uncomfortably in his stomach.
He’s waiting for James to finish his mock game of Quidditch, but James remains in the air, not listening as Remus tries to call for him. Remus just observes, waiting for James to land so they can head to Peter and Sirius in the Great Hall. The longer he watches, the more he leans in, eyes following James as he races through the air.
Remus is uninterested in Quidditch, has never been into it the way Sirius or James are—and yet he can’t tear his eyes away from James’ flying.
It’s erratic, broom all over the place as James grins widely, making Remus tense at every maneuver—watching him swerve too close to the ground, to the walls, barely dodging the bludgers as he zips across the field. It’s reckless, like James couldn’t care less if he falls or flies, and Remus can’t look away.
Then, there’s a bludger, heading straight for the broomstick of a fourth year Remus can’t remember the name of, but he watches—time slowing as James dives to intercept it—the bludger slamming into James’ arm, hard.
The impact sends James spiraling out, the fourth year’s eyes wide as they stare, and James loses his grasp on the broom and Remus loses his breath, lungs stuttering to a halt.
Then—James is going down, half off of his broom as gravity tears him from the sky, sending James hurtling towards the field, and Remus can’t breathe, fumbling for his wand whilst not taking his eyes off of James, going down, down, down.
James is completely off, barely hanging on with his arms, and Remus watches helplessly as James fights to mount the broom again, growing closer and closer to the ground.
Remus can’t catch his breath still, eyes following James’ fast descent as he readies himself to cast a levitation spell on James, trying to get in range of him.
Shouts of worry shoot out from others on the pitch, but Remus tunes them out, reciting levitation and slowing spells in his mind as he stumbles to get closer to James, eyes never leaving him.
Just a few feet before James makes contact with the ground, he hauls himself up and steadies the broom, and Remus can breathe again, immediately calling for him.
“James!” he shouts, and James goes to land, shooting a smile at him as he touches ground.
His hair is blown in all different directions, cheeks flushed as he jogs over to Remus.
“Moony! Hey– you never watch me fly, what's up?” James asks, unrattled by the bout from earlier. Remus’ stomach turns, looking over James quickly, making sure he’s alright.
“You– never mind that, show me your arm,” Remus says, pulling at James’ sleeve.
“Ah, okay, didn’t realize you’ve become Madam Pomfrey,” James teases, tugging his arm out of Remus’ grasp, “It’s alright! Just knocked me off my balance some.”
“James,” Remus says, “No way that ball didn’t hurt– show me now.”
James wavers a bit, an expression passing through his face so quickly Remus can’t decipher it, before obliging. “It was just a bludger,” James grumbles, but begins rolling his sleeve up to show where the bludger hit.
Remus grabs his arm, and there's a spot in the shape of a bludger that’s red, inflamed, and starting to form a bruise already. It’s really not bad yet, James isn’t lying, but Remus knows without any healing it’d worsen and fully form.
He frowns, casting a wordless spell over James' arm and watching as his arm turns a regular color. Once he’s certain James’ arm is fine, he checks over the rest of James again just to be sure—lingering much too long for James’ liking apparently, and he’s swatted away. When his scanning shows no further injuries, James undamaged from the fall, Remus smacks James upside the chin.
“Ow— What was that for?” James whines, rubbing at his chin.
“What were you thinking—you’re so stupid, you had no reason to take that hit,” Remus rants, grabbing James and pulling him towards the castle.
James goes reluctantly, waving to his teammates in the sky as Remus continues to drag him off the field and into the halls, muttering at James the entire way. James stumbles to keep up with Remus’ long strides, shooting Remus a confused glance as he’s pulled along by his elbow, all the way into the hall.
“It’s Quidditch,” James mutters, “What do you expect me to do?”
“That bludger was going for his broom, not his head! There was no purpose to you taking that blow–”
“Yes there was!” James exclaims, pulling away from Remus. There's a slight echo in the hall, and James is sheepish for a moment before he shakes his head, rubbing his thumb against the broomstick’s handle unconsciously.
“You nearly crashed out there, you’re reckless,” Remus responds, leveling James with a look, which he ignores, running a hand through his hair.
“It’s Quidditch,” James says, again, rolling his broom in between his hands.
“No, you’re just being reckless,” Remus huffs, and before he can catch it, more words come spilling out of him, “You need to value your life more.”
James falters, broom nearly clattering to the floor as he loosens his grip in surprise, “What? This isn’t about that, it’s just Quidditch!”
“You know you’re being careless—”
“I’m not—”
“You are—”
“I do value my life—”
“You’re breaking yourself to fix others James, that’s not valuing your life!”
There's a beat, and James stares at Remus, “Are we talking about Quidditch still?”
Something guarded crosses James’ gaze, and Remus needs to backtrack, needs James to listen to him without slipping away. Remus went about it all wrong, he just keeps seeing James value others over himself and he can’t fix it, can’t do anything about it.
“No– yes,” Remus sighs, rubbing a hand across his face.
“Well—you’re being a bit irrational Moony,” James retorts, “A little hit from a bludger isn’t anything.”
Remus is taken aback, wondering if James recalls plummeting to the field due to that little hit. Sarcastically, he snarks, “Yeah, and I’m sure it isn’t anything when you’re in the infirmary from falling off your broom.”
“I wouldn’t fall normally! Again, it was that little hit from a bludger–”
“Which you took purposefully–”
“So what?” James shoots back, “It’s not a big deal, it’s better me than them.”
Remus gapes, hitting at James, “It wasn’t going to hit them James, you let it hit you.”
“I don’t see your point,” he responds flippantly, “I’m fine Moony, the fourth year is fine too, no harm no foul.”
It’s all so frustrating, and James never seems to understand or soak in anything Remus tries to say. Remus wants to shake James, yell at him to be more careful, wrap him in bubble wrap to keep him safe, but James is closing off, slipping from Remus.
He opens his mouth, going to say more, but deciding against it. Remus doesn’t want to probe too far, because he knows James will close off completely, hiding somewhere to avoid talking, or busy up his schedule so much that talking alone is impossible.
“Come and eat, Pads and Wormtail are waiting for us,” Remus says instead, meeting James’ almost defiant gaze.
James searches Remus’ face for a moment, before schooling an easy grin onto his face, “Yeah okay, let me put away my broom first.”
He turns on his heel, towards the Gryffindor dormitories before Remus can say a thing.
Peter stares curiously at James, who pushes food around on his plate, just as he has been for the past few days.
James is smiling widely, energy high as he bounces from person to person, interacting with almost everyone at the table, while occasionally stealing glances at Peter to make sure he’s not being talked over.
Peter is content at the moment to just watch, butting in with a comment every now and again in between bites.
He’s an observer, a listener, and he likes to just make note of everything, know what’s going on. Sometimes it’s a wince by Remus, signaling a rough full moon, or an on edge Sirius, flighty from nightmares.
At the moment, it’s James, not eating as much as Peter thinks he would normally. James’ plate remains full, barely being touched save for a missing bite or two.
It’s a bit unnerving to say the least, as with James being so James, he distracts others from his untouched plate, boasts and teases drawing attention away from his lack of appetite. It’s something Peter notices about James, him slipping into autopilot a bit— skipping on meals and not being fully there. Peter’s yet to figure out why, but he does notice the brightness James radiates dimming a bit every now and again.
Usually when anyone skips on meals, the other marauders bring it in a napkin, packed and folded up neatly. For James, they’ve been sneaking it into the library, or wherever else James finds himself instead of the Great Hall.
Peter isn’t blind to the fact that, unlike other times where James would skip on meals, he wasn’t really eating at all, other than taking a bite or two before diving back into work, or Quidditch, or some favor he’d promised someone.
Yet even void of work, James doesn’t eat, and Peter notices, pausing from his own meal.
He watches as James laughs with everyone, cracking jokes, the food on his plate growing cold. Mostly, James just scrapes the food with his fork, not eating, barely giving it a glance.
No one else seems to see, so Peter just silently nudges James, piling some bacon onto his plate.
James tilts his head, a look crossing his face before he shoots a smile at Peter, “Thanks Pete!”
Sirius leans off of Remus, stopping mid sentence.
“Why does James get special treatment,” Sirius whines, trying to stab at his bacon.
Remus swats Sirius, “Because James finished his Transfiguration essay, maybe you should do it too.”
Peter snickers, as Sirius swats back at Remus, beginning to bicker with him.
“Oi– Moony that's not fair you were distracting me!”
“Was not–”
“Were to–”
James is grinning, watching as the two go back and forth, and he and Peter share a look before bursting into laughter.
Sirius turns to them, complaining, “Moony is being mean–”
He’s cut off by Remus smooshing bread into his mouth, deadpanning to James and Peter, “I am never mean.”
This, of course, leads to a tussle between Remus and Sirius, who jump at every chance to bicker and fight, taking every chance they get to be close with one another. Peter and James find it hilarious, as they fight like an old married couple and end up making up in some secluded corner of the castle. At the moment, however, they’re far from making up as Sirius tries to shove bread at Remus, who presses his palm flat across Sirius’ face to keep him at an arms’ distance. Somewhere next to them, Marlene cheers, always willing to watch the two squabble.
Amused and egging the two on, James and Peter watch, and eventually Sirius and Remus stop trying to shove food into one another's mouths. Then, it’s back to how it was, James at the center as jokes and stories fly around the table, but with a small change that Peter is satisfied with. Peter catches James with a grin, relieved James is finally clearing his plate.
“You’re allowed to be sad you know,” Sirius says, out of the blue as he and James play chess.
Alarmed, James’ head whips up to look at Sirius, brow furrowing.
“I’m not sad,” James shoots back, moving a pawn up a spot thoughtlessly.
Sirius just presses his mouth into a line, and there's an ugly feeling in James’ chest he pushes down, shaking his head.
“Yeah, but if you ever are, you’re allowed to be,” he murmurs, taking one of James’ pieces.
“I know that–”
“Do you?”
James’ head buzzes, hands itching to fidget.
“I do,” he says, “But I’m not, I have no reason to be, do I?”
Sirius hums, “Do you think you need a reason to be?”
James moves a piece up, breaking eye contact.
“Is this some psychological warfare you’re using to win Pads?” James teases, tone light as watches Sirius move another piece.
“Why, James, I need no warfare to win,” he goads, as James takes one of Sirius’ pieces.
“Hey!” James exclaims, leaning back in his armchair, “You should need warfare to win, I am a chess prodigy thank you very much.”
James realizes his mistake a moment too late, realization dawning on him as he looks at Sirius, betrayed.
“Checkmate!” Sirius sings, laughing as he moves his piece.
Gaping, James lunges for him, “You cheat! ”
Sirius dances around the armchair, laughing as he tries to sidestep James, “A loss is a loss!”
James catches him, wrestling him to the ground as they tumble around, elbows and knees in a whirl of Sirius and James on the ground.
They end up behind the couch, laying on a soft rug as they laugh, fighting to be on top.
Out of breath, Sirius huffs out, “You’re such a sore loser Prongs.”
James laughs, “Says you Sirius! Tell me, where did Wormtail find himself the other day after he beat you in Exploding Snap?”
“On second thought–”
“Uh huh,” James says smugly, easing off of Sirius he rolls to face the ceiling, “Interesting topic of distraction there though.”
He’s faced with glow in the dark stars they’d stuck up there one night, smuggled from Remus after the summer one year. More stars scatter the ceiling of their dorm, but the ones in the common room are amusing because no one ever notices them, not unless the stars lose their stickiness and fall in front of them.
Sirius hums, “That wasn’t actually meant to be a distraction, Prongs.”
James tears his gaze away from the fake stars, turning his head to look at Sirius as he lifts an eyebrow at him.
“Sure,” James says, disbelieving, “So you meant to tell me, in the middle of a chess game, that it’s okay for me to be sad?”
“Yeah actually,” Sirius affirms, sitting up, “I don’t think you know you can be.”
“I’m not sad,” James says defensively, sitting up as well. He doesn’t like this conversation anymore, scanning the room for the map and cloak.
“Okay but if you were– ”
“Sad about what?” James interrupts, incredulous, “What do I, James Potter, have the right to be upset about?”
Sirius blinks, startled. James spots the map, shoved between the cushion and arm of an armchair.
“Nothing, Sirius, nothing," James pushes on, getting up from the floor, “I don’t get to be sad.”
“If you would just listen—”
James cuts him off, “What’s this? I gotta meet up with my boyfriend?” he says, barreling past the topic and leaning over the armchair as he digs for the map. It's dirty, distracting Sirius with Regulus being James’ boyfriend, but Sirius definitely cheated in chess, so James feels he has the right to distract Sirius with it.
“Oi, don’t rub it in my face!” Sirius groans, “Your boyfriend is my brother, I am still getting used to it–”
James pretends to swoon, “Your brother–”
“Get out!” Sirius exclaims, hands shooting over his ears as he rolls onto his stomach on the floor.
Laughing, James makes his way out, grabbing the cloak as well as he shouts, “Love you!”
It’s dark out, the moonlight shining through the window, but Regulus is focused on the stars next to it, eyes searching.
He finds what he was looking for, one star among many, and he points out the Leo constellation, Regulus at the heart to show James.
“See right there? That’s me,” he murmurs, fulfilling his promise from earlier to James, who begged him to point out his star. He hears James shuffle behind him, feeling his breath on his neck as he stops, inches away from Regulus.
Regulus holds his breath, hoping James doesn’t hear his heart beating out of his chest.
James hums softly, fitting his chin into the junction of Regulus’ shoulder as he looks, squinting his eyes.
“Where?” James asks, hopelessly searching.
Regulus huffs, amused, before gently guiding James in the direction of his star, pointing again.
“Oh, wow,” James breathes, eyes settling on the star finally, leaning off of Regulus’ shoulder to move towards the window, “I can find you anywhere now.”
James turns then, eyes bright as he smiles at Regulus, the moonlight catching on him and shrouding him in a soft glow. It’s times like these Regulus is helplessly enamoured, caught in the storm of James, capturing his heart so effortlessly that Regulus is powerless to stop him.
Regulus is enraptured, couldn't look away even if he tried. James takes up so much space without realizing it, brightening up every room he’s in.
James is so bright, warmth emanating from him as Regulus tugs him closer, pulls him down from the clouds and the sky, down to Regulus.
I love you, Regulus wants to say, the words swelling within him, aching to spill out of him.
“You’re like the sun,” Regulus whispers instead, he always says it, he just wants James to know his effect on others.
James beams, proving Regulus’ point completely. They’re sat down now, somehow, Regulus too caught up in James to realize when it happened.
“Hello to you too,” James smiles, blinding and lovely and Regulus is hit with the sudden urge to kiss the smile off of his face.
Regulus’ cheeks heat up, flustered, “You are–”
James cuts him off with a laugh, leaning in close, “You call me the sun, but Regulus, you burn me too, you know. You’re just as bright, and warm, and comforting, and–”
He breaks off with a smile as he kisses him, short and sweet, before continuing, “You’re my light, you’re actually a star Reg,” he says with another huff of laughter. “You just give me too much credit.”
Regulus thinks he’s wrong, if James the sun, then Regulus must be Icarus, as he can already feel the fans of the flames reaching for him, cradling him in their warmth and dropping all his defenses, deserting him to fall, fall, fall.
He just stares, in awe, flush visible on his cheeks. How James could say that, oblivious to the effect he has on Regulus he hasn’t a clue. When James speaks, he shines so brightly, warmly, effortlessly, Regulus is lost in the currents, swept along by following James’ light.
“You’re so–” Regulus cuts himself off, opting to pull James into a deep kiss, letting the world fade around them until it's nothing but each other, orbiting one another.
Regulus wishes he could convey everything he feels, but he can’t, not when his love is outpouring, filling up every crevice in his mind with thoughts of James James James.
He’s not sure who pulls away to breathe first, but he swears gravity is pulling them back, as James presses a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, before attempting pulling away again.
He doesn’t let James get very far, pulling him in by the collar for another kiss, and James lets him, deepening it as he presses in, closer.