Resilient

by LorWrites28

Summary:

"In a world built on lies, the truth could tear them apart."

A Marauders/Divergent AU: Part 2
After escaping Erudite’s attack, Regulus Black and his friends seek refuge in Amity—only to uncover secrets that could change everything. As war looms, alliances are tested, betrayals run deep, and the truth about their world is more dangerous than they ever imagined. In the end, no one is safe.

Chapter 1: Arrival At Amity

The sun was too bright here.

It filtered lazily through the trees, warm against Regulus' skin, as he walked behind Poppy Pomfrey, the leader of Amity. The light should have been comforting, but instead, it only made his exhaustion worse. Every step sent a dull ache up his legs, and his muscles felt sluggish, but he forced himself forward. They couldn’t stop now.

Behind him, Sirius muttered, “This place is unnatural.”

“You think anywhere without armed guards is unnatural,” Remus replied, sounding equally tired but less openly hostile.

Sirius scoffed but didn’t deny it.

Ahead of them, James walked fast, his strides determined, as if he could will Amity to be something useful. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He hadn’t spoken much since they fled. Hadn’t let himself stop moving long enough to feel anything.

Regulus couldn’t blame him.

The war had burned through Abnegation, leaving the faction in ruins. They had barely escaped. The smoke still clung to their clothes, the scent of it lingering, mixing uneasily with the crispness of Amity’s farmland.

Regulus had expected them to be stopped at the border, interrogated, maybe even turned away. But Amity let everyone in.

No weapons, no questions.

And now, they followed Poppy through sprawling orchards and red-painted buildings, where people moved in peaceful, unhurried patterns. Amity was nothing like Dauntless with its harsh adrenaline or Erudite with its cold precision. It wasn’t even like Abnegation, where selflessness kept people moving even when they were tired.

It was… soft.

Too soft.

“We don’t turn people away,” Poppy was saying as she led them along a dirt path. “Anyone who needs sanctuary can find it here.”

James exhaled sharply. “We’re not looking for sanctuary.”

Poppy glanced back at him, expression neutral. “Then what are you looking for?”

James hesitated. His mouth opened, then closed. Finally, he settled on, “Rest.”

Poppy gave him a slow nod, but Regulus caught the flicker of something behind her eyes. Not suspicion. Not fear. Just… carefulness.

He had learned to recognize when people were hiding something.

 

***

 

They walked past fields where people tended to crops in loose-fitting, earth-toned clothes. A little girl ran barefoot through the grass, laughing as she chased a butterfly.

Regulus couldn’t imagine growing up here. He couldn’t picture a childhood where war wasn’t looming overhead, where Dauntless training didn’t involve knives and bruises and learning how to survive before you even learned how to live.

Sirius muttered under his breath, “What do they do all day? Frolic?”

Remus gave him a look. “Not everyone thrives on chaos.”

Sirius didn’t seem convinced.

James wasn’t listening. His eyes were moving constantly, scanning every person they passed. Looking for something. Or someone.

Regulus knew better than to ask.

They reached a large, round building at the center of the compound. It looked like a communal space, its doors open to reveal long wooden tables and cushioned benches. Inside, the air smelled of warm bread, citrus, and something floral.

The four of them hesitated at the threshold, suddenly aware of how out of place they were.

James’ shoulders were tense, his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t step back. Neither did Regulus.

Poppy turned to them. “You’ll be safe here. Amity does not take sides.”

Sirius snorted. “Right. Because war just ignores the people who refuse to acknowledge it.”

Poppy didn’t react. She simply gestured for them to sit. “No violence, no weapons, no disrupting the peace,” she continued, as if Sirius hadn’t spoken. “Those are our only rules.”

James exhaled slowly through his nose. His fingers twitched at his sides, as though resisting the urge to argue. Instead, he nodded sharply.

Poppy’s gaze flickered over them one more time, then she stood. “Eat,” she said. “Rest. We’ll talk later.”

And with that, she left.

 

***

 

The four of them sat at a table near the edge of the room, watching as Amity members moved around them with slow, effortless ease. People passed baskets of fruit and bread, their laughter soft and melodic. There was no rush. No urgency.

It was like they had all the time in the world.

James hadn’t touched his food.

Sirius plucked an apple from the basket and inspected it like it might be poisoned. “I still think this is a bloody cult.”

Regulus bit into a piece of bread, chewing slowly. The food was good. Simple. Uncomplicated.

Nothing like the food in Dauntless, where every meal was too rich, too heavy, designed to keep them strong and fast.

Nothing like the food in Erudite, where nutrition was calculated down to the exact calorie for optimal brain function.

Here, people ate because they were hungry. Not because they needed to fuel something.

It was unsettling.

Remus, who had been silent for most of the meal, finally spoke. “We should try to blend in. At least for a while.”

James’ fingers curled against the table. “I don’t want to blend in.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s obvious.”

James shot him a glare, but Sirius was unfazed.

Regulus wasn’t listening to them. He was watching the Amity members.

For all their smiles, there was something wrong here.

Some of them kept glancing toward their table. Not hostile. Not afraid. But hesitant. Wary.

Regulus had spent his entire life learning how to read people. And the people here—despite their warmth, despite their welcoming hands—were hiding something.

He just didn’t know what.

 

***

 

By the time the sun began to set, Amity was still as peaceful as ever.

The four of them were given a small room in one of the farmhouses. There were no doors. No locks. Nothing to separate them from the rest of Amity.

James sat near the window, his fingers tapping against the wooden sill in restless, uneven beats. He still hadn’t asked the questions Regulus knew were burning in his head.

Sirius flopped onto one of the thin mattresses. “So. How long are we planning on playing house?”

“We stay until we figure out what’s next,” Remus said.

“And what if ‘what’s next’ is sitting here making flower crowns?” Sirius propped himself up on one elbow. “Because I swear to Merlin, if I have to sing a bloody campfire song, I will lose my mind.”

Remus didn’t dignify that with a response.

Regulus stretched out on the bed closest to the door. He was exhausted, but sleep felt impossible.

James was still staring out the window, his jaw tight.

The silence stretched between them.

Regulus turned onto his side, watching James carefully. The tension in his shoulders. The way his fingers wouldn’t stop tapping.

James was waiting for something.

Or someone.

And Regulus had a feeling that when the truth came, it wouldn’t be something any of them were ready for.

Notes:

Ahh here we go, this is the start of book 2!!

I am so excited to start writing this 😆

Chapter 2: New Arrivals

Regulus woke to the sound of James breathing beside him.

It was a quiet, steady rhythm, the kind that might lull someone back to sleep. But Regulus was already awake, his mind unwilling to slip back into unconsciousness.

James’ arm was draped over Regulus’ waist, his body warm against Regulus’ side.

For a moment, Regulus didn’t move.

He wasn’t used to waking up like this—close, tangled, unguarded. He was used to cold sheets and empty space. But this?

This was different.

Regulus sat up quickly to make sure that Remus and Sirius didn’t see them this close. But to Regulus’ immense relief, it looked like both boys were already up and out of the room.

James stirred, shifting slightly. His fingers flexed against Regulus’ hip, and then his voice—sleep-rough and drowsy—broke the silence.

“M’you awake?”

Regulus smirked. “Nope.”

James huffed a laugh, his breath warm against Regulus’ shoulder. He didn’t move away. If anything, he pressed closer, his fingers sliding against the fabric of Regulus’ shirt.

Regulus tilted his head, watching him.

James Potter—self-sacrificing, golden-hearted idiot that he was—looked almost peaceful like this.

Almost.

“You snore,” Regulus murmured.

James’ eyes cracked open, narrowing. “I do not.”

Regulus hummed, shifting so that their faces were closer. “You do. Very loudly. It’s like sleeping next to a—”

James cut him off by rolling on top of him.

Regulus’ breath hitched.

James was warm, solid, impossibly close.

“Take it back,” James said, grinning.

Regulus arched a brow. “Or what?”

James leaned in slightly, his fingers skimming against Regulus’ ribs, slow and deliberate.

Regulus’ smirk deepened. “Oh, so that’s how it is?”

James’ grin turned wicked. He grabbed Regulus’s wrists, pinning them above his head. He leaned down so that his mouth was inches from Regulus's.

“One last chance, Black. Take it back.”

Regulus just winked, daring him.

James needed no further excuses. He closed the distance. His mouth was on Regulus’s in an instant. 

Regulus loved this, missed this. He readjusted himself under James to get a better angle. This caused James to let out a moan that made Regulus blush.

James sat up, giving him another wicked grin. He tightened his grip on Regulus’ wrists while his other hand began to roam.

But just as his fingers grazed Regulus’s waistline—

The door slammed open.

“Morning roomies!” Sirius yelled from the doorway.

James threw himself off of Regulus, falling onto the floor.

“Oi, James! What are you doing down there?” Sirius asked, peering down at him.

Regulus let his head fall back against the pillow. “Morning to you too, Sirius.”

James just groaned from his spot on the floor.

 

***

 

They didn’t have time to dwell on it.

By mid-morning, the refugees began arriving.

The first were Abnegation survivors—worn, hollow-eyed, moving with the careful steps of people who had lost everything. Some were burned. Others limped from injuries they didn’t have the supplies to heal.

Regulus had seen death before. But something about this felt worse.

Poppy Pomfrey and the Amity members welcomed them with open arms, leading them toward a separate farmhouse for shelter. The survivors murmured thanks, but their eyes were distant.

James stood near the tree line, his fingers twitching at his sides. He wanted to help. To do something. But Amity had no defenses. No way to fight back.

“We should be out there,” James muttered. “We should be helping.”

Sirius scoffed. “And do what, exactly? Throw apples at Erudite’s soldiers?”

James shot him a glare, but before he could snap back, a new group arrived.

A small cluster of survivors emerged from the trees, their clothes stained with smoke and dirt. And at the front—

A girl with white curls and sharp eyes.

Regulus recognized her immediately, although he had never actually met the girl.

She looked too much like Evan Rosier.

Twin.

The word settled in Regulus’ mind instantly.

He had never met her, but there was no mistaking the resemblance.

Pandora Rosier.

She wasn’t alone. Her fingers were curled around the hand of a red-haired girl in Abnegation grey.

The girl—her girlfriend, Regulus guessed, from the way Pandora murmured something to her—was leaning into her. Not just for support, but something deeper.

They were together.

Regulus tucked the information away.

Her lips pressed together, searching for something. 

The red haired girl pointed at the medical tent ahead of them.

For a second, she looked relieved. Then her expression shuttered.

“Come on, Lily,” she murmured, guiding the redhead toward the medical station Amity had set up.

Regulus watched them go. Noted.

 

***

The second wave of arrivals came at dusk.

Regulus had been sitting at the edge of the orchard, watching as the sky turned dusky gold and the warmth of Amity’s bonfires spread through the air. The scent of fresh bread and herbs drifted from the main hall, where Amity members prepared food for the growing number of refugees. Laughter—soft, almost hesitant—could be heard from the children who had been given a moment’s reprieve from the weight of war.

It was all too peaceful. A fragile thing waiting to be shattered.

And then, the sound of approaching footsteps.

Regulus wasn’t the only one who heard them. The gathered Amity members turned toward the sound, some stepping back instinctively. James, who had been standing with Sirius and Remus near the farmhouse, straightened.

From the shadows of the trees, figures emerged.

The first man walked with the slow, deliberate grace of someone who had seen too much. His grey Abnegation robes were dirt-stained, his white beard slightly disheveled, but his blue eyes—sharp, knowing—remained bright with quiet strength.

Dumbledore.

The leader of Abnegation had arrived.

There was a shift among the refugees as his presence settled over them—some Abnegation members straightened their posture, as if comforted by his mere presence. Others watched him with the desperate hope of people who had been lost and needed someone to guide them.

Poppy Pomfrey stepped forward, her expression unreadable. “You made it.”

Dumbledore’s mouth curved into something faintly like a smile. “Barely.”

Regulus almost scoffed. Trust Dumbledore to understate an entire massacre.

Dumbledore turned to the gathered crowd, his gaze sweeping over them with quiet understanding. No words of false hope. No empty promises. Just a moment of shared grief before he inclined his head.

“We have much to discuss,” he said simply.

Poppy nodded. “You’ll have time to rest first.”

But before Dumbledore could move forward—

Another figure stepped into view.

And just like that, the air shifted.

Regulus felt the moment Remus saw him.

The way his entire body went still.

The man who stood behind Dumbledore was thinner than expected, but there was an edge to him—something sharp, something cold. His dark hair was streaked with grey, his eyes a harsh amber.

Lyall Lupin.

Remus' father.

Regulus had only seen him once before. Years ago, in Erudite, when Lyall had visited the compound on some kind of official business. Even then, he had carried an air of authority. Calculating. Precise.

But now?

Now he was a ghost of that man—his robes worn, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. But the hardness in his gaze remained.

“Remus.”

His name was spoken without emotion. No warmth. No relief. Just acknowledgment.

Regulus barely had time to process it before Sirius moved.

He stepped in front of Remus instinctively, his shoulders squared, his hand twitching slightly at his side. A shield. A silent don’t you dare.

Remus’ face had gone pale.

“Father.”

The word was stiff. Unnatural.

Lyall tilted his head, expression unreadable. His gaze flickered once to Sirius—not a trace of recognition or acknowledgment—before settling back on his son.

“You’re still alive,” Lyall said after a long pause.

Remus flinched.

Regulus’ hands curled into fists. Bastard.

Sirius took a single step closer, his voice low, warning. “He’s more than alive.”

It wasn’t a threat, exactly. But it wasn’t not a threat.

Lyall’s expression remained neutral. Indifferent, even, as if his son standing before him was no more remarkable than the dirt beneath his feet.

Regulus wasn’t sure what he had expected. Anger? Disappointment? Some cruel remark?

But this?

This was worse.

Because there was nothing in Lyall’s expression. No reaction. No acknowledgment of the way Remus had stiffened. No concern for the fact that his son looked ready to shrink out of existence.

Dumbledore broke the silence.

“We should speak privately.”

Poppy’s eyes flickered between Remus and Lyall, understanding instantly. She stepped forward, her voice kind but firm.

“We’ll get you settled,” she said to Dumbledore. “And then we can talk.”

Dumbledore nodded.

Lyall, however, didn’t move immediately.

His gaze flickered to Remus one last time, and for the briefest second, something almost resembling curiosity crossed his face.

Then—nothing.

He turned and followed Dumbledore.

Regulus exhaled a slow breath. The tension didn’t ease.

Remus was still standing rigidly in place, his breathing shallow.

And Sirius—

Sirius’ expression was lethal.

Regulus had never seen him like this. Not even when they were still in Erudite, still clawing their way through a world that wanted to suffocate them.

Sirius had always been fire—reckless, burning, explosive.

But this?

This was a slow, smoldering ember. Contained, but dangerous.

He turned to Remus, voice dropping into something softer, steadier. “You okay?”

Remus didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he nodded. Too quick. Too sharp.

“Fine.”

He wasn’t fine.

Sirius knew it.

Regulus knew it.

But they didn’t press.

Instead, Sirius shifted closer, his hand brushing against Remus’ for the briefest second—a silent touch, grounding, before falling away.

It wasn’t much.

But it was enough.

Regulus turned his attention back to where Dumbledore and Lyall had disappeared, a thought circling his mind.

Dumbledore’s arrival meant something was happening.

And if Lyall Lupin was here, then it meant something bad.

Regulus didn’t trust coincidences.

And he sure as hell didn’t trust whatever secret was about to unravel.

 

***

 

Night had settled over Amity in a hush of golden lanterns and rustling leaves. Most of the refugees had been given temporary sleeping quarters in the wooden farmhouses scattered across the compound, and those who couldn’t sleep sat near the bonfires, talking in low voices or simply basking in the unnatural quiet.

Regulus, however, had no intention of sleeping.

Something had been nagging at him ever since Dumbledore arrived—something he couldn’t quite shake. There was a reason Abnegation had been targeted so ruthlessly by Erudite, and Dumbledore knew why. He was certain of it.

So, when he caught sight of Poppy Pomfrey leading Dumbledore away from the main farmhouse, her expression unusually tight, Regulus didn’t think.

He followed.

Silently, carefully, he moved along the winding orchard path, keeping his steps light as he slipped past the gardens. His heart pounded with something thrilling, dangerous, right.

He knew how to go unnoticed. Years in Erudite had taught him that much. He had been trained in observation, in logic, in recognizing patterns. And right now—

Dumbledore and Poppy were hiding something.

Regulus pressed himself into the shadows as they entered a small wooden greenhouse near the edge of the compound. Not an obvious meeting place. Purposeful.

Poppy shut the door behind them.

Regulus crouched beneath the greenhouse window, listening intently. The soft glow of lantern light flickered inside, casting their shadows long against the wooden walls.

Poppy spoke first, her voice low, firm.

“They’re getting closer, Albus. The more we take in, the harder it is to stay hidden.”

Dumbledore hummed in quiet agreement. “I feared as much.”

A pause. Then—something sharp.

“It won’t be long before Riddle figures it out.”

Regulus froze.

Riddle.

The leader of Erudite. The man orchestrating the war.

His blood ran cold, but he forced himself to stay still.

Poppy exhaled, frustrated. “We shouldn’t have kept it for so long. We should have—”

“We had no choice,” Dumbledore interjected, gentle but firm. “If Riddle gains access to the information, everything we’ve worked for will be lost.”

Regulus’ fingers curled into the dirt. Information.

So, this was what Erudite wanted. What Abnegation had been hiding.

Poppy sounded uncertain. “And you’re sure that the divergents are—”

Regulus’ breath caught.

Divergents? What did they have to do with this?

“I’m sure,” Dumbledore said simply. “But they cannot know. Not yet.”

Regulus barely stopped himself from making a noise.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He leaned forward, straining to catch more, but suddenly—footsteps.

Regulus whipped around.

And froze.

Sirius was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Regulus swallowed. He hadn’t even heard him approach.

“What,” Sirius whispered, “are you doing?”

Regulus grimaced. Of all the people to catch him, it had to be his brother.

He opened his mouth to make an excuse, but Sirius stepped closer, his gaze flickering between the greenhouse and Regulus with growing understanding.

“You’re eavesdropping,” Sirius realized, voice quiet but sharp.

Regulus lifted his chin. “I’m gathering information.”

Sirius snorted. “Right. Because that’s gone so well for you in the past.”

Regulus glared. “Sirius—”

Before he could say another word, the sound of movement inside the greenhouse made them both go rigid.

Poppy and Dumbledore were finishing their conversation.

They needed to leave. Now.

Sirius grabbed Regulus’ arm before he could argue and dragged him into the darkness.

Regulus’ mind raced.

What did Dumbledore mean? Why couldn’t they know yet?

And, more importantly—

What the hell were they being kept from?

Notes:

Alright, here's what I have to say...

- Sirius can you please just NOT INTERRUPT
- Lyall... fuck you
- Dumbledore, what are you doing bud?

Chapter 3: Adjusting To Amity

Notes:

TW: self harm mentioned

Amity was quiet.

Regulus hated it.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected when they arrived—certainly not the calm, infuriatingly gentle atmosphere that permeated every inch of this place. It felt wrong. Like a bandage placed over a festering wound, pretending it was healing.

They were at war. They weren’t supposed to be… playing farmers.

But that was exactly what Poppy Pomfrey wanted.

“Amity’s rules are simple,” she had told them that morning. “We welcome all, as long as they do not bring violence into our home.”

That had made Sirius snort. “Great. So we’re just supposed to sit around singing songs and picking apples while Riddle slaughters the rest of the city?”

Poppy’s sharp gaze didn’t waver. “Yes.”

Sirius, predictably, had stormed off after that.

Regulus didn’t blame him.

They weren’t meant for a place like this. None of them were.

 

***

 

By midday, the fragile sense of peace shattered.

It happened in the communal barn, where food rations were being distributed. Amity members worked in quiet efficiency, organizing baskets of bread, fruit, and grains for refugees. Most of the Abnegation survivors blended into the work seamlessly, their selfless nature allowing them to find purpose in serving others.

Sirius, however, had never been good at blending in.

Regulus wasn’t even sure how it started.

One moment, Sirius had been standing beside Remus, rolling his eyes at the way Amity insisted on smiling at everyone. The next—

“You shouldn’t be here.”

The words cut through the air like a knife.

Regulus turned just in time to see Lyall Lupin standing a few feet away, staring at his son.

Sirius stiffened beside Remus immediately.

Remus, however, had gone completely still.

Lyall’s face was unreadable. His expression not openly furious, not disgusted—but something else. Dismissive. The kind of look a person gave to something they had already decided wasn’t worth the effort of acknowledging.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Then—

“What did you just say?” Sirius’ voice was low, dangerous.

Lyall’s gaze flickered over to him. His jaw tensed, as if he had only just realized Sirius was there.

“You,” Lyall said, voice clipped. “You’re the Black boy.”

Regulus didn’t miss the way Sirius’ hands curled into fists.

“Oh, fantastic,” Sirius said, flashing a sharp, mocking grin. “You know how to identify people. What’s next? Learning basic human decency?”

Lyall ignored him, turning his attention back to Remus.

“I said,” Lyall repeated, his voice perfectly even, “that you shouldn’t be here.”

A muscle twitched in Remus’ jaw. He still hadn’t spoken.

Sirius took a step forward, furious. “And why the hell not?”

Lyall barely looked at him. “Because I know my son,” he said. “And he doesn’t belong here.”

Regulus glanced at Remus. He still hadn’t moved. Hadn’t reacted at all.

Sirius, however, looked ready to tear Lyall apart with his bare hands.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sirius snapped.

Lyall exhaled, slow and deliberate. “You think peace is possible for someone like him?”

Sirius was in his face in an instant.

“I swear to god—”

“You cannot fight who you are, boy,” Lyall interrupted smoothly. His voice remained calm, but his eyes were sharp. Cold.

Sirius scoffed. “Who he is? You don’t even fucking know him.”

Lyall’s lips pressed together. His stare never left Remus.

And then, softly—almost pitying—

“You’ll always be like this,” Lyall said. “No matter how hard you try. No matter where you run.”

Something inside Remus seemed to fracture.

It was only for a second—barely noticeable to anyone but Regulus.

A split-second flinch.

A breath caught in his throat.

A moment of something almost like resignation.

As if this was something he had heard before. Something he had believed.

Sirius swung.

His fist collided with Lyall’s jaw, knocking him back a step.

Someone screamed. Poppy Pomfrey was suddenly there, stepping between them, voice sharp and unforgiving. “Enough!”

Regulus barely registered her presence.

He was watching Remus.

Because Remus still hadn’t moved.

Hadn’t reacted.

Hadn’t done anything at all.

And that—

That worried Regulus more than anything.

Lyall wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing a thin trail of blood. His expression remained unreadable.

But when he finally turned to leave, his words lingered in the air like a curse.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Lyall murmured. “Some things never change.”

The tension shattered the moment he walked away.

Poppy was furious. She ordered Sirius away, muttering something about how Amity did not tolerate violence.

Sirius ignored her.

He turned back to Remus, grabbing his shoulders. “Remus.”

Remus blinked. It was as if he was only just realizing they were still here.

Sirius exhaled sharply. “Say something. Please.”

“I’m fine.”

The lie was so obvious it made Regulus flinch.

Sirius’ grip tightened. “Remus—”

“I said I’m fine.” Remus pulled away. His voice was empty.

Regulus narrowed his eyes. This wasn’t right.

The Remus Lupin he knew was steady. Thoughtful. Sharp in ways people rarely expected.

This Remus—the one standing in front of them now—was something else entirely.

A hollowed-out version of himself.

And for the first time, Regulus wondered—

How much of him had already been broken?

 

***

 

The Amity dormitory was quiet that night.

Regulus lay in his bunk, listening to the soft hum of crickets outside, the gentle rustling of leaves in the warm breeze. It was almost unnerving—the peace of this place, the way it dulled the sharp edges of war.

It didn’t feel real.

He turned onto his side, eyes flicking to the bunk beside him, where James lay fast asleep, his breath slow and steady.

On the other side of the room, Sirius and Remus shared a bed.

Amity didn’t have strict rules about personal space—they valued comfort over formality. Still, Regulus wasn’t sure if it had been a conscious choice on either of their parts, or if Sirius had just decided to stick to Remus like glue ever since Lyall Lupin had arrived.

Regulus shut his eyes.

Tried to let sleep take him.

And then—

The scream.

Regulus sat up instantly.

The sound had been raw, panicked, and far too close.

James jolted awake beside him. “Wha—?”

Then, another sound—gasping, ragged breathing.

Regulus turned sharply, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. Remus.

He was sitting up in bed, shaking violently. His breath was coming too fast, his fingers clutching at the thin blanket like a lifeline.

Sirius was already awake, already moving.

“Hey—hey, I’m here,” Sirius murmured, voice hoarse with sleep but steady.

Remus didn’t react.

He wasn’t really awake yet, Regulus realized.

His eyes were open, but they weren’t seeing. His body was locked in place, trembling as he gasped for air, chest rising and falling far too quickly.

A panic attack.

Sirius shifted, carefully pulling Remus against him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “Breathe,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Remus flinched at the touch at first—but Sirius didn’t let go.

He just held him tighter.

“Remus,” Sirius said again, his voice softer now, more grounded. “You’re safe.”

The shaking didn’t stop, but something in Remus’ posture cracked. His hands curled into the fabric of Sirius’ shirt, gripping so tightly his knuckles went white.

Sirius didn’t even flinch.

“You’re okay,” Sirius murmured, his lips brushing against Remus’ temple. “I swear. I swear you’re okay.”

Slowly, painfully, Remus’ breathing began to slow.

The sharp gasps softened, his shoulders slumping as his body gave in to the exhaustion.

Sirius pulled back slightly, just enough to press their foreheads together.

“There you are,” Sirius murmured, as if Remus had been lost and just now found his way back.

Regulus suddenly felt like an intruder, like he had stumbled upon something too raw, too intimate.

James must have felt the same because he muttered, “Come on,” and tugged Regulus toward the door.

They left the dormitory without another word.

Regulus didn’t look back.

Outside, the night was warm, the sky splattered with stars.

Regulus leaned against the wooden railing of the porch, exhaling slowly. James stood beside him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

After a long moment, James sighed. “That wasn’t the first time, was it?”

Regulus hesitated. No.

It wasn’t.

He had seen the way Remus flinched when Lyall spoke to him. The way he had withdrawn, gone silent, his mind pulling him somewhere none of them could follow.

And now, he had seen this.

The kind of terror that didn’t come from a single nightmare—but from years of them.

“No,” Regulus admitted finally. “I don’t think it was.”

James ran a hand through his hair. “Sirius won’t leave his side after this.”

Regulus glanced at him. “Would you?”

James didn’t answer.

They stood in silence, the night stretching on around them.

Regulus stared at the stars, wondering just how deep the damage went.

And if any of them would ever truly be okay again.

 

***

 

Morning in Amity came softly.

The sunlight filtered through the trees, golden and warm, carrying with it the scent of fresh bread and damp earth. Somewhere in the distance, voices murmured, footsteps crunching along dirt paths as the refugees moved through their routines.

But inside the barn-turned-dormitory, Remus Lupin had not moved.

Regulus found him where he had left him the night before—curled up in bed, facing the wall. Sirius had dozed off beside him, his arm still draped over Remus’ waist in a silent, protective gesture.

Regulus lingered in the doorway, unsure if he should leave them be.

But then—

“You’re staring.”

Regulus blinked.

Remus had spoken without turning around, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. Sirius stirred beside him, but didn’t wake.

Regulus exhaled, stepping further inside. “You didn’t eat this morning.”

Remus shrugged. “Not hungry.”

A lie.

Regulus had seen this kind of hunger before. The kind that wasn’t about food at all—but something deeper. The kind that settled into a person’s bones, leaving them hollow and tired.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, watching as Remus shifted but still didn’t look at him.

“Are you going to pretend last night didn’t happen?” Regulus asked.

Silence.

Then, finally—

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Regulus scoffed. “You’re a shit liar, Lupin.”

That earned him a faint, humorless chuckle. Small. Bitter.

But still, Remus wouldn’t look at him.

Regulus’ gaze drifted, taking in the way Remus’ shoulders hunched inward, the way his hands fisted into the fabric of his blanket like he was holding himself together.

Something about it—about him—unsettled Regulus in a way he didn’t quite understand.

Because this wasn’t just about last night.

This had been brewing for a long, long time.

Regulus hesitated. Then, carefully—too carefully—he asked, “How bad was it?”

Remus finally turned.

Their eyes met, and for the first time, Regulus saw something unshielded in him.

Something shattered.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Remus said.

Regulus swallowed. “Try.”

Remus studied him for a long moment. Then, without a word, he pushed up his sleeve.

Regulus’ breath caught.

Scars.

Thin, white lines. Some jagged. Some deliberate. Some old. Some fresher than they should have been.

Everyone knew that Remus Lupin had scars on his face. Regulus had heard the Marauders make up insane stories as to how they came to be. Regulus had known that Lyall was the cause of his facial scars. But he had just assumed that they were the only ones he had.

Regulus had seen battle scars. He had seen what Dauntless training did to people. But this—this wasn’t that.

Remus didn’t look at him. Didn’t say a word.

But Regulus understood anyway.

“You used to hurt yourself.” The words felt heavy in his mouth.

Remus didn’t flinch. Didn’t deny it.

Instead, he murmured, “Not used to.”

Regulus’ stomach twisted.

It was one thing to suspect. Another to hear it confirmed.

Remus exhaled, rolling his sleeve back down. His hands were steady, practiced. Like this wasn’t the first time he had had to explain this to someone.

“Most are from me. But some… enough are from him too.” Remus swallowed.

Rage burned inside Regulus. How could someone add on to the pain and hurt that Remus was already inflicting upon himself?

“I was… bad for a while,” he admitted. “Worse than I let on. Worse than anyone really knew.”

Regulus didn’t say anything.

Remus hesitated. Then, quieter, “My mother—she tried to help. More than anyone.”

Remus let out a breathy laugh. “She was the best person I ever knew.”

Regulus could hear the past tense like a wound.

“She’s gone,” Regulus guessed.

Remus nodded.

Regulus frowned. He had never heard how she died.

And then—Remus said something that made Regulus’ blood go cold.

“My father thinks it was my fault.”

Regulus’ breath hitched. “What?”

Remus shifted, eyes trained on the ceiling. “She was sick. Not terminal, but… it was bad. And I was worse.”

Regulus stayed silent, sensing that this was the part that mattered.

Remus’ voice was detached, like he had rehearsed this in his head so many times that the words didn’t even sound real anymore. “I was sixteen. And I—I tried to—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is, while my father was at the hospital with my mother, I was in a different hospital. And I wasn’t there when she died.”

Regulus didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Remus laughed again—small, bitter. “Lyall never forgave me for that.”

Regulus stared at him.

Lyall Lupin had blamed Remus for his mother’s death.

Not because it was true—but because it was easy.

Because Remus had been vulnerable, struggling with a pain that had nothing to do with his mother’s illness.

And Lyall had taken that pain—twisted it into something cruel.

Regulus felt something like rage crawl up his spine.

He had always known Lyall was a cruel man. He had seen it last night, heard it in the way he spoke to Remus. But this—this was something else.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Remus shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

Regulus disagreed.

There was everything to be sorry for.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with things neither of them could fix.

Then, softly, Remus added, “Sirius knows. About most of it.”

Regulus wasn’t surprised. Of course Sirius knew.

Because Sirius had always been the one to pick up the pieces—to hold Remus together when he couldn’t do it himself.

Regulus swallowed hard. “Do you still—” He hesitated. “I mean, is it still that bad?”

Remus didn’t answer right away.

But he didn’t lie either.

“Some days,” he admitted. “Not as often as before. But… yeah.”

Regulus didn’t know what to say.

What could he possibly say to that?

Instead, he reached out—carefully, cautiously—and pressed his hand over Remus’.

Remus didn’t pull away.

For now, that was enough.

 

***

 

Regulus had spent the rest of the afternoon replaying his conversation with Remus.

It sat in his chest like a weight he couldn’t shake. The words, the scars, the way Remus had looked at him—like he was used to people leaving, used to people thinking he was too much.

But Regulus had stayed.

And Sirius had always stayed.

Which was why Regulus wasn’t surprised when he found Sirius outside, leaning against the wooden fence at the edge of Amity’s orchard. His arms were crossed, his fingers drumming against his biceps, tension evident in the tight set of his jaw.

Regulus hesitated before stepping closer.

Sirius didn’t look at him.

“You know, don’t you?” Sirius finally said.

Regulus didn’t bother pretending he didn’t understand. “Yeah.”

Sirius exhaled sharply. “And?”

And what? And I finally understand why you look at him the way you do? And I know you’d burn this entire place down if it meant protecting him? And I hate that I never saw how bad it was until now?

Instead, Regulus just said, “I talked to him.”

Sirius nodded, gaze fixed on the horizon. His hands curled into fists, then relaxed, then curled again. A nervous habit. One he had never shaken from their childhood.

After a long pause, Sirius murmured, “He told you about Lyall?”

“Yes.”

Another sharp nod. “Figured.”

Regulus studied him, taking in the way his shoulders were too stiff, his breathing too controlled.

Sirius was angry. Not in the way he usually was—loud and explosive. No, this was something deeper. Colder.

Dangerous.

“I should kill him.” Sirius’ voice was flat, matter-of-fact. “I should’ve done it years ago.”

Regulus swallowed. He believed him.

Sirius wasn’t the kind of person who made empty threats.

Regulus leaned against the fence beside him. “You won’t.”

Sirius let out a breathless, humorless laugh. “Won’t I?”

Regulus gave him a pointed look.

And after a moment, Sirius’ shoulders sagged.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I won’t.”

Not because he didn’t want to. But because Remus wouldn’t want him to.

They stood there for a long time, the breeze rustling the leaves around them.

Then, finally, Sirius spoke again.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered. “How bad it was.”

Regulus stayed quiet.

Because Sirius was right. He didn’t. Not really.

Sirius exhaled sharply, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. “When we met, Remus was already good at pretending.” His voice was quieter now, laced with something almost… reverent. “He smiled, he laughed, he made jokes that made James cry from laughing too hard. And at first, I thought—I thought that was just him.”

Regulus could see it—a version of Remus that was too good at hiding things.

“But then,” Sirius continued, “training started.”

Dauntless training. The fear simulations.

Regulus already knew what he was going to say.

But that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

Sirius finally looked at him. “Lyall was in his simulation.”

Regulus sucked in a breath.

“He never told me,” Sirius said. “But I knew. I knew because when he came out of the simulation, he looked—” Sirius shook his head, like the memory still haunted him. “He looked like he wanted to disappear.”

Regulus didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Because he could see it.

See Remus—younger, smaller, trapped in his own mind, facing the thing he feared most.

Not war. Not pain. His own father.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “That was the first time I realized… he wasn’t okay.”

Regulus’ chest tightened.

He hated that Sirius had seen that. Hated that Remus had lived it.

“After that, I started paying attention,” Sirius admitted. “To the little things. How he always kept his sleeves down. How he never let anyone touch him unless he was the one to initiate it. How he smiled but never talked about himself. And when I did get him to talk, it was always about his mum. Never his dad.”

Regulus clenched his jaw. Of course. Of course it was like that.

“He didn’t trust anyone, not really,” Sirius murmured. “Not until us.”

Not until you.

Regulus didn’t say it, but they both knew.

Sirius had been the first person to make Remus feel safe.

Regulus cleared his throat. “Does he know?”

Sirius frowned. “Know what?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “That you’re in love with him.”

Sirius froze.

For a second, just a second, Regulus saw his brother panic.

Then, just as quickly, Sirius masked it. Scoffed. “Don’t be dramatic, Reg.”

Regulus gave him a flat look.

Sirius sighed, running a hand over his face. He didn’t deny it.

Regulus huffed a quiet laugh. “Pathetic.”

Sirius groaned. “Can you shut up for five seconds?”

Regulus smirked. “I could, but where’s the fun in that?”

Sirius shoved him. Regulus laughed.

For a moment, the weight between them lifted.

But only for a moment.

Because then, the weight settled again.

And Regulus found himself asking, “Are you happy with him?”

Sirius hesitated.

Then, softer, “Yeah, Reg. I’m happy”

Regulus smiled at his brother.

Sirius offered a small, sad smile. “I never knew what true love felt like until I met Remus Lupin.”

Regulus’ chest tightened.

Because that was the truth, wasn’t it?

They had both grown up in a house that taught fear and respect over love.

Regulus was fairly certain he had never so much as heard the words ‘I love you’ uttered from either one of his parents.

Bur Sirius—Sirius had always told Regulus that he loved him.

And now, Regulus found himself overwhelmingly happy that his brother has found someone else to share his love with.

Regulus leaned against Sirius, giving him a brotherly hug.

“I love you, Sirius.”

“I love you too, Reg.”

 

***

 

Regulus hadn’t meant to see it.

He hadn’t meant to stumble upon them. He had only been walking back from the orchard, letting the cool night air clear his head.

Then, he saw them.

Sirius and Remus, tucked behind one of the wooden storage buildings, the lantern light turning them soft at the edges.

Sirius had both hands on Remus’ face, thumbs moving in slow, absentminded circles against his skin. Remus stood still, his forehead resting lightly against Sirius’, breathing him in like he was something safe.

Regulus should have left.

But instead, he stayed.

Not because he didn’t trust Sirius. Not because he needed to watch over Remus.

But because this was something rare.

Sirius was rarely gentle.

Even when he loved, he loved fiercely—loudly, without hesitation. But this?

This was careful.

This was home.

And Remus—Remus let him.

Regulus had always wondered if Remus knew just how much Sirius adored him. If he understood what it meant to be the center of his world.

But looking at them now—he thought maybe Remus did.

Then, Sirius kissed him.

Slow. Deliberate.

And Remus kissed him back.

Not desperate. Not rushed.

Just steady.

Like Sirius was something solid, something real.

Regulus felt something settle in his chest—not surprise, not discomfort. Just warmth.

Sirius had spent years fighting to prove he was worth loving.

Remus had spent years believing he wasn’t.

But here they were, holding onto each other, choosing each other.

Regulus turned away before they could see him, before he could intrude on something so precious.

He had spent so much of his life believing that things like this didn’t last.

That love was something sharp-edged, something that always came with conditions.

But maybe, just maybe—Sirius and Remus were proving him wrong.

And for once, Regulus was glad.

 

***

 

The quiet hum of Amity’s peaceful night was broken by the pounding of hurried footsteps.

Regulus had been half-drifting into a reluctant sort of ease, his mind still lingering on what he had seen earlier—Sirius and Remus, holding onto something real, something safe. It was a rare thing, to witness happiness in a place like this.

But then, the shouting started.

Regulus stiffened. Across the small communal space, James and Sirius were already on their feet, all traces of ease disappearing in an instant. Remus wasn’t far behind, his expression carefully blank, but his hands were shaking.

The figures moving toward them weren’t part of Amity.

The girl at the front—bloodied, breathless, familiar—staggered forward, barely upright. Marlene McKinnon.

“Marlene?” Regulus’ voice was sharp with disbelief as he moved toward her. “What the hell—?”

She nearly collapsed into his arms. Her clothes were torn, her arm bent at an unnatural angle, and there was blood—so much blood.

Sirius was already beside them, supporting her weight as she gasped out, “You have to listen. You have to—”

Her voice cracked.

Regulus barely recognized her. The Marlene McKinnon he remembered had always been fire and recklessness, a Dauntless through and through. But this girl—this was someone barely holding herself together.

Remus was already moving, guiding them toward the nearest bench. “Let’s sit her down—Sirius, careful with her arm—”

Marlene shook her head violently. “No. No, listen. There isn’t time.”

Regulus crouched down in front of her, watching the way her eyes kept darting back, toward the trees—like she was waiting for something to come crashing through.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice quieter than the others.

Marlene swallowed hard, forcing herself upright despite the way her body protested. It was sheer willpower keeping her moving. “Erudite is hunting Divergents,” she said, voice hoarse. “And they’re coming. Here.”

A cold weight settled in Regulus’ stomach.

James’ grip on her tightened. “What?”

“They’re targeting anyone who might be Divergent.” Marlene’s hands clenched against her lap, knuckles white. “They’re rounding them up, experimenting on them—they’re trying to find a way to control them.”

Regulus felt his breath slow. He already knew how far Riddle and the Erudite were willing to go—but this was different.

Marlene exhaled shakily, looking up at them, desperate for them to understand. “They attacked a group of us. The Dauntless who refused to side with Erudite. We tried to fight back, but—”

She broke off.

And suddenly, Regulus understood.

The others weren’t coming.

Marlene was alone.

Sirius swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair before turning sharply toward Regulus. “We have to get out of here.”

But Marlene shook her head again, more frantic this time. “No. Listen to me. They’re coming here because they think Amity is hiding Divergents. If you run, they’ll find you. If you fight, they’ll slaughter anyone who gets in their way.”

James’ jaw tightened. “Then what the hell are we supposed to do?”

Marlene let out a hollow laugh, her exhaustion bleeding through. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I know one thing—you can’t stay here.”

A tense silence settled over them.

Sirius was pacing now, running a hand through his hair. Remus hadn’t moved at all.

Regulus let the weight of the words settle. He thought of the Amity children playing in the fields, the quiet hum of their songs, the way Poppy Pomfrey had welcomed them even when she wanted no part of the war.

This wasn’t their fight.

But soon, it would be.

“They won’t just target the Divergent,” Remus murmured. His voice was quiet, but firm. “If they come here, they’ll kill anyone who stands in their way. Including Amity.”

The thought made Regulus’ stomach twist.

James exhaled sharply. “We need to tell Poppy. Maybe we can—”

But before he could finish, Marlene let out a bitter laugh. “You think Amity is going to help?” Her voice was raw. “They don’t want to take sides. They won’t risk themselves for us.”

James’ jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue.

Because they all knew she was right.

Regulus turned to Marlene again, voice steady. “How much time do we have?”

Marlene hesitated.

And then—gunfire.

The sound was small, nearly imperceptible. But in the tense, fragile quiet, it was deafening.

Sirius reacted first. His wand was out in an instant, his stance shifting into something defensive. James followed a second later.

Regulus turned sharply toward the trees, his pulse hammering in his ears.

They weren’t alone.

Gunfire continued to sound in the distance.

They were coming.

 

Notes:

I literally hate Lyall. Like get outttttt.

Also, Sirius is the best boyfriend, can we all agree??

Remus my babyyyy (cue me playing "I bet on losing dogs" by Mitski)

Chapter 4: The Attack Begins

A burst of red light illuminated the sky.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then, the world exploded into motion.

The signal flare.

It was the only warning they got before the shouting started.

Sirius was the first to react. “Shit,” he breathed, turning sharply toward the others. “That’s not good.”

James had already moved forward, his eyes locked on the treeline. “They’re here,” he said, voice tight.

Regulus’ stomach twisted. Dauntless traitors. Erudite forces. He had known they would come—but he had hoped, foolishly, naively, that maybe they had more time.

Clearly, they didn’t.

Marlene pushed herself up, still unsteady. “We have to go,” she said, hoarse. “Now.”

But James didn’t move.

Instead, he turned to Sirius. “We can fight.”

Sirius nodded immediately. “Obviously.”

Regulus exhaled sharply. Of course they wanted to fight. He should have expected that. James and Sirius had always chosen battle over retreat, even when the odds were against them.

But this wasn’t Dauntless.

This was Amity.

“This isn’t our fight,” Regulus argued. “We should leave before we’re trapped.”

James’ eyes flashed. “And leave Amity to be slaughtered?”

Regulus forced himself to stay calm. “Amity won’t fight for us. Why should we fight for them?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Sirius shot back.

Regulus clenched his jaw. He wasn’t heartless. But this wasn’t some noble Dauntless mission. This was survival.

Remus, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke. “I…” He swallowed, looking away. “I don’t know.”

Regulus turned to him. “Remus—”

But Sirius was already moving. He put a hand on Remus’ shoulder, his grip steady. “It’s okay,” he murmured, voice softer than before. “You don’t have to decide right now.”

Remus’ shoulders were tense beneath Sirius’ hand, but slowly—he nodded.

Regulus hated how lost he looked.

But before he could say anything else—

The enemy arrived.

A voice boomed across the compound.

“Hand over the Divergents.”

Silence fell over Amity.

Regulus turned sharply, heart pounding.

Dauntless traitors, clad in black, spilled into the clearing, weapons raised. Behind them, the telltale blue of Erudite soldiers glowed in the darkness.

And at the front—

Mulciber.

Sirius stiffened. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mulciber smiled—cold, smug, predatory. “I’ll make this simple,” he said, stepping forward. “We know you’re hiding Divergents.” His gaze swept over the crowd. “Hand them over, and no one else gets hurt.”

No one moved.

Poppy Pomfrey, her face set with rare steel, stepped forward. “Amity does not take sides,” she said, her voice even.

Mulciber laughed. “And yet, you seem to be harboring an awful lot of traitors.” His gaze flickered toward Marlene. “Like her.”

Marlene lifted her chin, defiant despite the blood on her skin.

James shifted, barely perceptible—preparing to lunge.

Regulus felt the tension crackle like a live wire.

Mulciber’s smile sharpened. “I won’t ask again.”

The air was thick with expectation, with the inevitability of violence.

And then—

Sirius moved.

Everything unraveled at once.

Notes:

Mulciber... leave.

Chapter 5: Battle At Amity

Everything happened at once.

Sirius moved first, a knife in hand, the blade catching the light as he spun and slashed it toward an oncoming attacker. His face was set in grim determination, a far cry from the carefree person he usually was. James was right behind him, his own gun raised and fired in quick succession, taking down a pair of Dauntless traitors before they could get any closer.

Regulus barely had time to react, but instinct took over. His hand went for the gun tucked at his side, fingers wrapping around the handle, but he hesitated—he wasn’t as skilled with it as James or Sirius. Still, he had to move.

The Dauntless traitors surged forward, storming into the compound like a flood, their weapons drawn, their eyes wild. The traitors were led by Mulciber, a hulking figure in the front. Erudite forces flanked them, armed with rifles and looking more like soldiers than the scholars they once were. Regulus' gut churned as he realized the magnitude of what was happening—this wasn’t a skirmish, it was an all-out assault.

Amity’s peaceful resistance was no match for them. The Amity people had no weapons, no training in combat. They were gardeners, caregivers, artists. But here, now, they had to fight.

“Regulus!” Sirius’ shout cut through the chaos, and Regulus snapped back to the present. He turned, barely dodging a punch aimed at his face. A Dauntless traitor stood in front of him, grinning, a knife raised high. Regulus was still slow to react, and for a moment, fear squeezed in around the edges of his thoughts.

But then, the gunshot rang out. The Dauntless traitor collapsed to the ground, a red stain spreading across his chest. James stood behind him, his face grim, his gun still raised, his hands steady. “You okay?”

Regulus nodded, his breath coming fast. “Yeah… thanks.” His hand shook as he lowered his gun, still processing what had just happened.

They couldn’t stop. The fight wasn’t over.

 

***

 

Sirius was in his element. He darted between the shadows, slipping through the crowd of attackers with ease, his knives flashing as he took down two more enemies. He didn’t hesitate—there was no time for hesitation. He had always been reckless, but now it was more calculated, more desperate.

Beside him, James was charging ahead, his focus locked on the group of Dauntless traitors threatening the Amity people. His gun was a precise instrument, and with every shot, another traitor fell. But even as he fought, there was something about his expression—something that made Regulus uneasy. It wasn’t just anger. It was something darker. A sense of loss hanging in the air around him. Loss and fear.

Regulus’ thoughts were shattered by the sharp sound of a bullet whizzing past his ear. He ducked just in time as another traitor fired from across the room. His heart pounded in his chest as he returned fire, taking down the attacker. But there were too many.

Too many.

 

***

 

Regulus looked to the side, trying to locate Remus. The last time he’d seen him, Remus had been standing back, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t like him to be on the sidelines, but everything about today felt different. Regulus caught a glimpse of Remus, his face pale, eyes wide with fear. The weight of everything seemed to be pressing on him.

Sirius noticed too. His gaze flickered toward Remus before he threw a punch at another incoming Dauntless traitor. “Stay close,” Sirius called to Remus, his voice tight with tension. But Remus didn’t respond. He was too far away.

That was when Regulus noticed—he wasn’t the only one who saw Remus’ hesitation. Lyall Lupin, Remus’ father, was pushing through the chaos, and when he spotted Remus in the distance, his face twisted with something between anger and disgust. The expression chilled Regulus to his core.

“Remus, move!” Sirius shouted, cutting down another traitor with his knife. But Remus didn’t move. His eyes were locked on his father, frozen in place.

Before Regulus could do anything, Lyall reached for Remus, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him roughly. The sight of it made something inside Regulus snap. He didn’t think; he just acted.

He sprinted toward them, his gun raised. Lyall was already turning to face him, his hand pulling a gun from his side. Regulus fired first, the sound of the gunshot loud in the chaos. Lyall’s gun dropped to the floor with a loud clang.

“Let him go,” Regulus ordered, his voice cold and steely. Lyall’s expression darkened, but for the first time, Regulus saw a flicker of hesitation in the older man’s eyes.

Sirius reached them a moment later, pulling Remus away from his father’s grip. The younger Lupin was trembling, his face pale. Sirius held him close, his hands on his shoulders, grounding him. “It’s okay, Remus. You’re with me.”

But Remus barely registered the words, his eyes still wide and unfocused. His father had already turned and disappeared into the crowd of enemies.

 

***

 

They continued fighting, but Regulus could feel the shift—the tide was turning, and not in their favor. Despite the skill of the Marauders and the help from the Dauntless rebels, there were still too many enemies. The Dauntless traitors kept coming, pushing them further and further into the compound. Regulus could hear the screams of the Amity people, but they couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Just when it seemed like they couldn’t hold out any longer, the sound of vehicles approaching split the air. Regulus didn’t know what it was at first, but then he saw the flashes of headlights through the smoke.

Minerva McGonagall led a group of Dauntless rebels through the smoke, her face stern, her expression unwavering. She was followed by Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr., both of them covered in dirt and blood, but determined. The rebels wielded an assortment of guns and knives, ready to fight.

“We’re here to help,” Minerva shouted over the chaos. “Get to the front line!”

James didn’t wait for her to finish. He turned toward Evan and Barty, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.

Evan didn’t miss a beat. “Saving your ass, Potter,” he said, voice flat. “Now fight.”

The Marauders were back in action in seconds, taking down enemies with renewed fervor. Evan and Barty led the counterattack, their fire precise and deadly. Regulus could feel his heart rate start to slow as the pressure lightened, though the fight was still far from over.

 

***

 

They were pushing the Dauntless traitors back, but it wasn’t over. The battle raged on.

Regulus stayed close to James, his eyes scanning the area, heart still hammering. The Amity compound was burning, flames licking at the edges of the trees, the buildings destroyed. But it was the escape that was on Regulus' mind now. They couldn’t stay here.

James, though, was still firing, still yelling orders. His focus was razor-sharp, his eyes fixed on the front lines. It was like he was in a different world, a place where nothing mattered but the fight.

Regulus grabbed his arm. “James, we need to leave,” he said, voice low.

For the first time that night, James looked at him, his face pale but determined. “Not yet.”

And then, just when Regulus thought the fight would never end, the last of the Dauntless traitors were in full retreat, the Erudite soldiers following in tow. The field was littered with bodies, and Regulus didn’t know whether to feel relief or horror.

They had survived, but at what cost? Amity was gone. The flames would never be extinguished, and the peace they had fought for seemed farther away than ever.

 

***

 

As they regrouped, Barty and Evan pulled Regulus aside, their faces grim.

“James doesn't know,” Barty began, his tone low.

Regulus nodded slowly, his stomach twisting. “About what?”

Evan’s eyes softened. “About his parents. They’re dead, Regulus. They died in the attack on Abnegation. We weren’t able to save them.”

Regulus felt his chest tighten. He didn’t know what to say, how to respond. But the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t tell James. Not like this. Not with everything else going on.

And so, Regulus nodded stiffly, though he felt like he was suffocating.

James would never know. Not yet.

Notes:

Can I just say, of course Sirius is a good fighter. Like ugh, what a man.

Evan and Barty are BACK BABY!!

Regulus... you better tell him 😅

Chapter 6: The Train

The night smelled like smoke and blood.

They ran through the burning wreckage of Amity, the fire still crackling in the distance, illuminating the sky in deep, sickly oranges and reds. The air was thick with the scent of destruction. The Amity compound was gone.

Regulus barely had time to process it before James grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward. "Faster!" James shouted, his voice hoarse from shouting orders, from screaming in the fight. His grip was tight, almost painful.

Sirius was ahead, leading the way with Remus beside him, his face pale and eyes wide, his hands still trembling from the panic that had overtaken him earlier. He looked like a ghost.

The train was coming.

They could hear the mechanical roar of the wheels against the track, a steady thunder in the otherwise silent night. It was their only escape now. There were no more safe houses, no more neutral ground. It was factionless or nothing.

James leaped first. He grabbed onto the side of the train, his feet barely finding purchase on the metal ledge before he pulled himself up. Sirius was next, hauling Remus with him, keeping an arm around his back as he helped him balance.

Regulus ran beside it, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. His legs ached, exhaustion weighing him down, but he forced himself forward. He grabbed onto the cold metal bar and pulled himself up, muscles screaming in protest.

The world lurched, but he landed inside, his breath heavy in his chest. They had made it.

For now.

 

***

 

The interior was dimly lit, a long stretch of old, rusting cargo space, smelling of dust and old metal. The wooden crates stacked along the walls rattled as the train swayed.

No one spoke for a long moment. The silence pressed in on them.

James sat down first, leaning back against the wall, his gun resting beside him, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His hands were shaking.

Sirius paced near the door, fingers running through his bloodstained hair, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. He was muttering under his breath, dark and angry, the adrenaline still thrumming through him.

Remus was curled up in the corner, knees drawn to his chest. He was staring at his hands like he didn’t recognize them.

Regulus sat across from James, staring at him, the words trapped in his throat.

I should have told him.

James’ parents were dead.

Regulus had known before the battle. Evan and Barty had told him. He could have told James before everything had fallen apart—before the fire, before the attack, before they barely made it out alive.

But he didn’t.

And now, James was sitting in front of him, covered in blood that wasn’t his, breathing in shallow, exhausted gasps, thinking his parents might still be waiting for him somewhere.

Regulus swallowed hard. The guilt felt like lead in his stomach.

"Are you okay?" James asked suddenly, his voice hoarse from the smoke.

Regulus almost flinched. He didn’t deserve that question.

"Yeah," he lied.

James nodded, like that answer was good enough.

Regulus wanted to tell him. He really did. But how do you tell someone their entire world is gone?

James’ fear simulation literally had his parents dying in it. And now, Regulus is supposed to be the one who tells him?

Not now. Not yet.

 

***

 

"We should have killed them," Sirius muttered darkly, still pacing. His boots clanked against the floor, each step more agitated than the last.

James turned his head toward him, frowning. "Sirius—"

"They betrayed us," Sirius snapped. "Our own faction—Dauntless—turned on us like cowards, let Erudite poison them against their own. And for what? Power? Control?" He ran a hand down his face, wiping at the blood on his cheek. "I should’ve killed more of them. I should’ve—"

"Sirius, stop," Remus said suddenly.

His voice was quiet, but firm.

Sirius did stop. He turned to look at Remus, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

Remus was still sitting on the floor, but he wasn’t shaking anymore. He was watching Sirius carefully, his eyes unreadable.

"You’re still in fight mode," Remus murmured. "You need to come down from it."

Sirius clenched his fists. "How the fuck am I supposed to come down from it, Moony? We barely made it out alive."

Regulus could see the shift in Sirius’ expression. The anger was real—but it wasn’t just anger. It was fear. Sirius had always been like that, covering up his emotions with rage, too stubborn to admit when something had shaken him.

And Remus knew it.

Sirius sighed heavily and sat down beside him, burying his face in his hands.

No one spoke after that.

 

***

 

The train rattled as it sped through the ruined city. The night blurred past the windows.

Regulus’ fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. His mind was spinning.

James was still sitting there, exhausted, unaware.

Regulus had told himself that he wasn’t a coward—that he was different from the rest of his family, different from the people who ran when things got hard.

But wasn’t this just another kind of running?

He should tell James.

He had to tell James.

But every time he opened his mouth, he saw the blood on James’ hands, saw the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of everything, and the words died in his throat.

Not yet.

 

***

 

Hours passed. Maybe more.

The exhaustion weighed down on them all, pressing in, dragging them under.

Regulus let himself close his eyes for just a moment, his head resting against the cold metal wall of the train car.

And then—

The train lurched.

Regulus’ eyes snapped open. They weren’t slowing down naturally.

Sirius noticed it too. He was already on his feet, his gun drawn, his posture rigid. “Why the fuck are we slowing down?”

James stood as well, his exhaustion vanishing instantly. “Someone’s controlling it.”

The train was still moving, but it was no longer flying across the tracks at high speed. It was slowing, creeping along, like someone had taken control of it.

Regulus moved to the door, pressing his hand against the metal. They were coming up on something.

Someone was waiting for them.

Sirius’ jaw tensed. "Get ready."

James nodded, adjusting his grip on his gun.

Regulus’ stomach churned.

They weren’t alone.

And whoever was out there had just decided their next move for them.

Notes:

Regulus, TELL HIM.

Remus saying "Sirius stop." AND HE DOES 👀

Who is on the train?!?!? (like I didn't write this 🙄)

Chapter 7: The Factionless (Remus’ POV)

Notes:

TW: self harm mentioned

Everything ached.

Remus leaned against the cold metal of the train car, head pounding, body aching, mind spiraling. The adrenaline from the battle had long since faded, leaving him feeling like his bones had turned to lead.

But they were gone.

Lyall was behind him.

He exhaled shakily, pressing his fingers to his temples. That should have been enough to make him breathe easier. It should have.

But the weight of the last twenty-four hours clung to him—like blood he couldn’t scrub off. The screams, the smell of burning wood, the distant echoes of gunfire.

His father’s voice.

"You are a monster."

His stomach twisted.

A warm hand brushed against his.

Sirius.

Remus turned his head slightly, meeting the only pair of eyes that had ever made him feel safe. Sirius said nothing, but his pinky curled around Remus’, grounding him.

Remus swallowed hard, so damn grateful for him.

Without Sirius, he wasn’t sure he’d still be standing.

The train jerked suddenly.

Sirius’ fingers tightened around his.

And then—

The train started slowing down.

 

***

 

They weren’t alone.

As soon as the train doors slid open, Remus’ muscles locked up. He wasn’t ready for another fight.

The factionless were not what he expected.

They weren’t weak or starving. They weren’t desperate. They were armed, coordinated, moving with precision.

This wasn’t a random collection of the discarded.

This was a force.

Remus’ stomach clenched.

One of them, a woman with sharp eyes and a steady voice, stepped forward.

"Who are you fighting for?"

No pretense. No hesitation. A test.

Regulus answered first. "We’re fighting against Dauntless and Erudite."

The woman had a badge on her right arm reading, “Mary MacDonald.” She stared for an agonizingly long second. Then, she relaxed.

"Good," she said simply.

Relief washed over Remus, but his guard stayed up.

She motioned them forward. "Come on. You look like hell."

Remus felt Sirius nudge him lightly. "She’s not wrong," Sirius muttered.

Remus rolled his eyes, but some of the tension drained from his chest.

They followed.

 

***

 

The train car was stifling—not from heat, but from the unbearable weight of silence.

Remus leaned against the cold metal wall, his body begging for rest. The last twenty-four hours had left him running on fumes. His muscles ached, his head throbbed, and his mind refused to stop replaying the battle.

The gunfire. The flames. His father’s voice.

He exhaled shakily. Lyall was gone. That should have brought relief.

It didn’t.

A bottle of water was pressed into his hands.

"Drink," Mary MacDonald instructed, before passing more bottles to the others.

Remus blinked at it. His hands were dirt-streaked and trembling. His knuckles were raw from fighting. The water bottle looked too clean in comparison.

He twisted the cap off and took a small sip, his throat raw from dehydration.

Around him, the others sat in exhausted silence.

James was slouched against the train wall, eyes closed, jaw tight. Regulus sat beside him, legs stretched out, gaze distant. Lily leaned into Pandora’s side, her fingers twined loosely with hers. Barty and Evan were half-asleep, whispering to each other in hushed tones.

And Sirius—

Sirius was still beside him. Always beside him.

Their knees brushed, and the warmth of that small touch was the only thing keeping Remus steady.

Sirius tilted his head toward him, voice low but teasing. "Not dead yet, Moons?"

Remus huffed a tired laugh.

"Give it time."

Sirius grinned, but his eyes were scanning him carefully. Checking for something unspoken.

He always knew.

Remus nudged him with his foot, a silent I’m okay.

Sirius nudged back. I’ve got you.

Mary, standing by the door, suddenly straightened. "She’s here."

Remus barely registered the words.

His exhaustion made everything feel slow, muffled—distant.

The door slid open.

And then—

Remus forgot how to breathe.

Because standing in the doorway was a woman he had buried years ago.

A woman he had grieved for.

A woman who was supposed to be dead.

His mother.

Hope Lupin.

 

***

 

Remus couldn’t move.

The world had narrowed to the woman standing in the doorway.

Hope Lupin.

No.

No, that wasn’t possible.

She was dead.

She had been dead for years.

His mind reeled, desperately trying to reconcile the truth he had believed for so long with the impossible reality before him.

His mother was dead. He had heard his father say it.

"She's gone, Remus. And she’s never coming back. She’s dead."

And he had believed him. He had believed that it was his own fault.

His vision blurred at the edges. His breath came too fast. The train car tilted.

Sirius’ hand landed on his arm. "Remus?"

Remus didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

His mother took a small step forward. "Remus?" Her voice was softer than he remembered, but it still sounded like her.

But she wasn’t here. She couldn’t be here.

Something inside him cracked, a wound that had been stitched closed with grief now tearing open.

"I—" His throat closed up.

The others were watching, confused, but he barely registered them.

This was a mistake. A trick.

"Remus, it’s really me," Hope tried again, stepping closer. "I—"

"You're not," Remus cut her off sharply. His voice was hoarse, shaking. "You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead."

Hope flinched. "I know this is a shock—"

"You’re not real," he whispered, but he could see her breathing. The way her fingers twitched, as if she wanted to reach for him but didn’t know if she could.

No.

He had mourned her. He had spent years wondering if his father would have hated him less  if he had just been different. He had ached for her absence.

She had left him.

So how could she be here now?

Something cold twisted in his gut.

If she was alive, if she had been alive this whole time—

Then she had chosen to stay away.

She wasn’t dead.

She wasn’t dead.

The thought hit him like a freight train.

Remus staggered, the weight of it nearly buckling his knees.

His mother was standing right in front of him.

For so long, he had believed he would never hear her voice again. That he would never see her face except in fractured memories.

But she was here. Breathing. Alive.

And he wanted to be angry—Merlin, he wanted to be furious. But before the anger could take hold, there was only relief.

His vision swam as something deep inside him loosened.

She was alive.

His mother was alive.

His knees buckled slightly, but Sirius’ hands were suddenly there, steadying him.

"Easy, love," Sirius murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Remus sucked in a shaky breath. His chest felt too tight, too full.

"Remus," Hope whispered again, and this time, her voice cracked.

It was that—the break in her voice, the raw emotion—that shattered the last of his resistance.

He let go.

A choked, helpless sound left his throat as he took a step forward—then another. And before he could stop himself, before his mind could ruin it with questions, with doubts—

He crashed into her arms.

Hope caught him.

She held him like she had never let go.

Like she had never left at all.

Her arms were warm, real, solid. Her hands clutched at the back of his shirt, shaking.

"I thought you were dead," he rasped, fingers curling into her coat like a child. "I thought—"

Hope exhaled sharply, pressing her cheek against his hair.

"I know," she whispered. "I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry."

For a moment, nothing else mattered.

Not the battle. Not the war. Not even the years of pain and loss and longing.

For a moment, Remus was just a boy in his mother’s arms.

And for the first time in years—he felt safe.

 

***

 

The relief shattered like fragile glass.

Remus stood there, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling too fast. His entire body felt like it was burning from the inside out. He had spent years grieving her, carrying her loss in his bones, believing that he had lost the one person who had loved him unconditionally.

And now, she was here. Alive.

Not dead.

Not gone.

Just… absent.

By choice.

He took a slow step back, forcing distance between them.

Hope’s expression flickered, hurt flashing across her face as she took a half-step forward. "Remus, I know this is a shock, but I—"

"You let me believe you were dead." His voice was quiet. Dangerous.

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

"You let me mourn you." His hands curled into fists. "You let me sit in that house—alone—with him, thinking I had lost the only person who ever loved me."

Her eyes shone with unshed tears. "I never stopped loving you."

Remus let out a sharp, hollow laugh. It hurt coming out of his throat. "Really? Because it sure felt like you did."

Hope flinched. "I didn’t have a choice."

He froze.

Then, slowly, his head tilted.

"No choice?" he repeated, his voice icy. "That’s what you’re going with?"

Hope inhaled sharply. "Remus—"

"You had a choice." His voice shook with restrained fury. "And you chose to leave me with him."

The train car felt too small. Too stifling. He was trapped again, the way he had been in that house for so many years, suffocating under his father’s shadow.

Hope wrapped her arms around herself. "I thought you’d be safe," she whispered.

That did it.

Something deep and ugly snapped inside him.

"Safe?" He let out another laugh, brittle and hollow. "Safe?"

No one moved. No one spoke.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

"Do you know what he did to me?" Remus snarled. "Do you know what I went through? What I became because of him?"

Hope’s face paled. "I—"

"He told me I was broken." Remus’ breath came sharply. "That I was a burden. That I was ruining everything." His throat closed, but he forced the words out. "He hated me, and you left me with him."

Hope’s lips parted. "I never wanted—"

Remus shook his head.

"I needed you," he whispered. "But you weren’t there."

She swallowed thickly.

Remus lifted his shaking hands, staring at his wrists as if he could still see the faded scars beneath the sleeves of his shirt.

"He used to tell me I was weak," he murmured. "Pathetic. That I was an embarrassment to him. He said I ruined everything." His breath hitched. "He said I killed you."

Hope’s breath caught.

Remus let out another bitter laugh. "And the worst part? I believed him."

His mother looked stricken. "Oh, sweetheart—"

"Don’t." He stepped back. One step. Then another.

Sirius was watching him carefully, like he was ready to grab him if he collapsed.

"He saw the scars, you know." Remus’ voice was eerily calm. "And he got angry. Not because I was hurting." His throat bobbed. "But because I was an inconvenience."

Hope covered her mouth with her hands.

"He told me I did it for attention," Remus continued. "That I was selfish." His jaw clenched. "That if you were alive, you’d be ashamed of me, too."

Her hands fell to her sides. "Remus, that’s not true."

"But I believed him!" Remus hissed, his voice breaking. "I spent years believing that I was the reason you were gone. That I was the problem. That I was—" He swallowed. "That I was beyond saving."

Hope stepped toward him, but he flinched back.

"I wanted to die," Remus admitted, voice raw.

The air left the room.

Silence.

Then—

A sob. Hope covered her face with shaking hands, her shoulders trembling.

Remus’ anger was still burning, still searing, but beneath it was exhaustion.

He had spent so much time missing her. So much time wishing she had come back.

But she never had.

And that hurt more than anything.

"You were supposed to be dead," he whispered. He took a step back, the distance between them yawning like a chasm.

Hope lowered her hands, eyes red-rimmed. "Let me fix this," she pleaded.

Remus turned away.

"I don’t think you can."

 

***

 

The moment Remus stepped out of the train car, he knew something inside him had broken. The anger, confusion, disbelief, all tangled up in a mess of raw emotion he couldn't untangle. His hands trembled by his sides, fingers clenching and unclenching as though they had a mind of their own.

Hope Lupin was alive. Alive. The woman who he had buried in his mind, the one who had died when he was just a child—she was standing in front of him, and all those years of mourning, all those nights spent curled up with the ache of loss, felt like a cruel joke now.

Remus didn’t know what to feel. Denial had been his first response. He hadn’t heard her voice in years, not since he was a boy. His memories of her had become hazy, blurred by time, but he'd always held onto the idea that she was gone. That she'd been taken too soon by a sickness, a quiet death in the night that had left him to fend for himself, emotionally abandoned before he was old enough to understand what that meant.

But to see her now—alive, breathing, standing before him—was something he couldn’t comprehend. She hadn’t just died. She hadn’t just disappeared. She had left. And he had been carrying that weight with him all these years, convinced that her absence had been a tragic accident, but now… now he had to question everything. He had to wonder why she’d left him, why she hadn’t come back. Why she hadn’t tried to find him.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

He turned away from the group, hands balled into fists at his sides as he paced across the empty space of the train yard. He needed to be alone. He needed to think. But mostly, he needed to feel something other than the cold, sharp sting of betrayal.

He barely noticed when Sirius followed him. But then, a warm hand touched his shoulder, and Remus stiffened, ready to lash out, to push him away. But Sirius wasn’t like that. Sirius never pushed. He was just there, steady, always steady, like a rock in a storm. The one constant thing in Remus’ chaotic, broken world.

“Remus,” Sirius said quietly, his voice a balm to the frayed nerves that had been snapping inside him all day. “Talk to me.”

Remus didn’t turn around. “I can’t. I don’t know what to say.”

Sirius didn’t press him. He just stayed close, waiting. And that’s when it hit Remus like a physical blow—the sheer weight of everything that had just happened. His mother was alive. But what did that mean for him? What did that mean for the years he had spent grieving? All that time spent alone, feeling abandoned by her death, all the nights he had cried into his pillow wondering what he had done wrong. If he had been a better son, would she still be here? Would she have stayed?

The anger flared again, and before he even realized it, he was spinning around, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “She’s alive, Sirius. Alive. And she never came back for me. She never—she didn’t even try. I—I was just a kid, and she left me. She died, and I never got to say goodbye. I never—” His voice cracked, the rawness of his pain slipping through the cracks in his carefully built-up walls. “Why, Sirius? Why did she leave me? Why did she make me think she was dead?”

Sirius' face softened with concern, but his expression didn’t falter. He stepped forward, his hand reaching out, not to comfort just yet, but to give Remus space. “I know you’re angry. I know this is a lot to take in, but you can’t carry all of this by yourself.”

Remus shook his head, stepping away from Sirius' touch. “You don’t understand. I spent all these years thinking she was gone. Thinking I had lost her, and now... now she’s standing right there, alive, and I don’t even know who she is anymore. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know if I can forgive her.”

Sirius didn’t take a step back. He didn’t need to. His voice was gentle, but the words were firm. “You don’t have to forgive her right now. You don’t even have to talk to her if you don’t want to. But don’t carry this alone, Remus. You don’t have to. I’m here. You’re not alone in this.”

Remus wanted to believe him. God, he wanted to believe him. But there was too much swirling inside him—too much pain, too much history that he had buried for so long. It wasn’t just about his mother. It wasn’t just about the hurt she’d caused by not being there. It was about everything. It was about the way his father had treated him, about how he'd never been good enough in Lyall Lupin's eyes. It was about all the nights he’d spent slicing open his own skin to try and release the pain, trying to feel something other than the weight of all of this.

He didn’t want to burden Sirius with it. Sirius had enough to deal with, with the war and the chaos of everything that was happening. Sirius didn’t need to take on his self-inflicted wounds too.

But Sirius, ever perceptive, saw the look in Remus’ eyes—the way they seemed to darken with guilt and shame, and he understood, even without the words.

Without another word, Sirius stepped forward again, this time wrapping his arms around Remus, pulling him into an embrace that was soft but unyielding. Remus stiffened at first, but then he melted into it, needing the warmth, needing the comfort, even though he didn’t feel like he deserved it.

“I love you,” Sirius whispered into his ear. “And I’ll always be here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone, Remus. You never have to go through this alone.”

Remus closed his eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to break free. He wanted to believe him. He wanted to. But the scars on his arms, the ones no one else saw, whispered louder than anything Sirius could say. They were a reminder that he wasn’t good enough. A reminder that, somehow, he had always been broken.

“I don’t know how to stop hurting,” Remus whispered, his voice so quiet that Sirius almost missed it. “I don’t know how to fix myself.”

“You don’t have to fix yourself,” Sirius replied softly, pulling away just enough to look at Remus. “You’re not broken, Remus. You never have been. And I know... I know it’s hard. But none of what you’ve done to yourself is your fault. It was never your fault.”

Remus looked away, his gaze drifting to the horizon, but it was like he could see nothing but the endless black void of his own heart.

“I’ve... I’ve hurt myself,” Remus said, the words tasting bitter as they left his mouth. “I didn’t know how to stop the pain. I didn’t know how to make it go away. I thought if I just... if I just cut deeper, maybe it would feel like I had control. Maybe it would feel like I could release it. But I can’t, Sirius. I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

Sirius’ face was full of anguish, but there was no judgment, only love. “You don’t deserve that, Remus. You don’t deserve to hurt yourself. And you don’t have to anymore. You have me. I’ll help you through this, no matter what. I love you, Remus. And I will always love you. No matter what.”

Remus' breath hitched, and this time, the tears fell. He clung to Sirius desperately, as though he could lose him at any moment. He buried his face against Sirius' chest, his arms trembling, and for the first time in so long, he allowed himself to believe in the comfort that was offered to him.

“I love you too,” Remus whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Sirius held him tighter, rocking him gently as though he could absorb some of the pain, some of the weight that Remus had carried for so long. And in that moment, as Remus clung to him, he knew something important—he wasn’t alone anymore.

Sirius was there. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start healing.

Notes:

MARY MENTIONED!!

Hope what are you doing here??

Sirius is a 10/10 boyfriend. We love a supportive king 👑

Chapter 8: Secrets & Divisions

The Factionless compound was not what Regulus expected.

Like most people, he had grown up believing they were little more than beggars, barely scraping by. But as Mary MacDonald led them through the repurposed warehouse, it became clear that the Factionless were far more organized than the factions had ever given them credit for. People moved with purpose, carrying supplies, checking weapons, speaking in hushed but determined voices. There was an order here—an unspoken structure beneath the chaos.

Hope Lupin was waiting for them just ahead, speaking with another Factionless member.

The moment she spoke, Remus went rigid beside Sirius, his breath catching like he’d been punched in the stomach. His eyes locked onto her, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t move.

Hope welcomed them, offering food, shelter—comfort—but Remus was unresponsive. He didn’t acknowledge her at all.

Sirius, standing at his side, was just as unmoving, his face tight with barely restrained anger. If Remus wasn’t going to speak, Sirius certainly wasn’t either.

Regulus felt the tension thrumming between them, a wound too raw to be touched. He knew better than to intervene.

So he just followed the others deeper into the compound, pretending he hadn’t seen the way Remus’ hands were shaking.

 

***

 

They were given space in one of the storage areas—an open stretch of floor lined with makeshift bedding and scattered supplies. It was far from comfortable, but after everything they had been through, it was enough.

Sirius and Remus sat apart from the others, Sirius pulling Remus into his arms. They whispered to each other, their bodies curled together in a way that felt almost fragile. Remus was holding onto Sirius like he might slip away if he let go.

Regulus turned away, giving them whatever privacy they could find in a room full of people.

Lily and Pandora sat nearby, setting out their blankets. At one point, Lily glanced toward Sirius and Remus before looking at James and Regulus. “They’re together, aren’t they?”

Regulus immediately opened his mouth, ready to deny it.

But James, ever frustrating, just sighed. “It’s complicated.”

Regulus turned, glaring at him.

Lily frowned. “Complicated?”

James just shrugged. 

She seemed satisfied with the answer and didn’t press further.

As soon as she turned back to Pandora, Regulus grabbed James’ arm, pulling him aside. “How did you know?” he hissed.

James just smirked, lowering his voice. “They’re my best friends, Regulus. And also, I walked in on them a couple months ago.”

Regulus blinked. “You what? ”

James winced. “Yeah, it was… an experience.”

Regulus exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Do they know you know?”

James shook his head. “No. But they’ll tell me when they’re ready.”

Regulus studied him for a moment, then nodded. James could be reckless, but he wasn’t careless—not when it mattered.

He only wished he could say the same about himself.

 

***

 

Later, they were called into a meeting.

Hope stood in front of the gathered rebels, her expression calm but commanding. “We’re not just surviving anymore,” she said. “We’re preparing to take down Erudite.”

Silence fell over the room.

“We’ve been gathering allies,” she continued. “Dauntless rebels, Amity defectors, Abnegation survivors. Erudite and the Dauntless traitors think they control the city, but they’ve underestimated how many people want them gone.”

James leaned forward, eager. “So what’s the plan?”

Hope hesitated. “We’re still working on logistics, but—”

“Still working on logistics?” Regulus interrupted. “You’re planning a revolution, and you don’t even have a plan? ”

Hope’s sharp gaze snapped to him. “It’s not that simple.”

James ignored the tension. “We don’t need to wait. We should hit them now, before they expect it.”

Sirius nodded in agreement. “If we wait too long, they’ll only get stronger.”

Regulus scoffed. “And if we go in blind, we’ll all be dead before we get anywhere.”

Sirius shot him an irritated glare, but Regulus didn’t care. Someone had to be the cautious one.

James turned to Hope. “Do you know anything about my parents?” His voice was steady, but Regulus saw the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Hope hesitated. “I’m sorry, James. We don’t.”

James swallowed, nodding stiffly.

Across the room, Evan and Barty exchanged a glance.

Regulus knew what they were thinking. They did know something.

And so did he.

But James didn’t.

And Regulus still hadn’t told him.

 

***

 

As the days passed, tensions only grew worse.

Remus barely spoke, his emotions wrapped too tightly around his mother’s return. Sirius stuck by him, refusing to give Hope the time of day.

Evan and Barty were constantly bickering, snapping at each other over things that didn’t matter.

James was restless, ready to fight. Sirius was the same.

But Regulus wasn’t.

And James was starting to notice.

One night, after a long day of discussions, James reached for him, fingers brushing against his wrist. His touch was warm, familiar. But the moment James leaned in, something in Regulus twisted.

Guilt.

He pulled away.

James frowned. “Reg?”

Regulus shook his head. “Not tonight.”

James studied him for a moment before nodding. But Regulus could feel his concern.

And he hated it.

 

***

 

The fight was inevitable.

James, Sirius, Remus, and Regulus—standing in a circle, voices raised, tempers flaring.

“We can’t just sit here!” James snapped. “We need to do something. ”

“We don’t even have a plan,” Regulus shot back. “You want to throw yourself into a war with no strategy?”

Remus crossed his arms, his voice tired. “I don’t care what you two do. I just want to be left alone.”

Sirius rounded on Regulus. “Why are you always holding us back? ”

Regulus clenched his jaw. “Because someone has to make sure we survive. ”

Sirius took a step forward, but before things could escalate further, Hope’s voice rang out.

“Enough.”

They all turned.

She looked exhausted.

“If you can’t agree, then I’ll make it simple,” she said. “You have a choice. Stay and fight with us, or go your own way.”

Silence.

Regulus looked at James, at Sirius, at Remus.

They had survived this long together.

But now, for the first time, he wasn’t sure if they would make it out as the same people they used to be.

Notes:

Haha, of course James knew about WolfStar, don't be so surprised Reggie 😂

REGULUS FOR THE LOVE, JUST TELL HIM!!

Chapter 9: The Truth

The argument had stretched into the night.

They were all exhausted, voices raw from too much shouting, but still, no one could agree.

"I can't stay here," Remus said finally, his voice hoarse. He looked around at them, then settled his gaze on Hope, who stood quietly in the corner. "I won't."

Hope flinched, but she didn’t argue. She knew she had lost him.

Sirius, who had barely let Remus out of his sight since their arrival, squared his shoulders. "Then we leave." No hesitation. No question.

James looked between them. "Where do we go?"

Silence fell as they all considered their options. Their resources were dwindling, and most of the city had turned into a battleground. Abnegation had been wiped out. Amity wouldn’t take them in. Dauntless was under Riddle’s control. That left only one place.

"Candor," Regulus said.

Evan and Pandora exchanged a glance.

"Candor?" Sirius wrinkled his nose. "Truth-obsessed, self-righteous, pain-in-the-arse Candor?"

"It’s the only place left," Regulus said flatly. "And if there are still Dauntless rebels out there, they’d probably go to Candor, too."

James sighed, rubbing his temples. "Fine. We go to Candor."

No one argued. It wasn’t like they had a better plan.

 

***

 

That night, before they left, James pulled Regulus outside. The air was crisp, the distant hum of the city barely reaching them in the quiet of the Factionless compound.

"Is something wrong?" James asked, his voice low.

Regulus stiffened. "Why would something be wrong?"

James gave him a pointed look. "Reg, we haven’t really had a second alone since everything happened. I just…" He hesitated, looking away for a moment before meeting Regulus’ gaze again. "I just want to make sure we’re okay."

Regulus swallowed. Guilt churned in his stomach. He could feel the weight of his secret pressing against his ribs, threatening to spill out.

But he couldn’t tell James. Not like this. Not yet.

So he forced a small, tired smile. "We’re okay, James."

James searched his face like he knew Regulus was lying but didn’t want to push. Finally, he nodded. "Alright."

Regulus' insides twisted painfully when James accepted his lie so easily.

"You know I’ll always be here for you, right?" James said softly.

Regulus felt something in his chest tighten. And before he could stop himself, he let James pull him into a hug.

And when James kissed him—really kissed him for the first time in what felt like forever—Regulus let himself forget. Just for a moment.

 

***

 

Morning came too soon. They packed their bags in silence.

They packed up in silence, rolling up blankets, stuffing whatever meager belongings they had into their bags. The warehouse that had sheltered them for the past few nights already felt like a distant memory.

Hope Lupin stood by the exit, watching them with an expression that teetered between sorrow and understanding.

"You'll always be welcome here," she said.

Regulus glanced at Remus. His jaw was tight, his shoulders stiff. He hadn't spoken to her—not once since they arrived.

Hope took a small step forward, her gaze softening. "Remus, I—"

Before she could finish, Sirius moved between them, his presence a solid wall of quiet defiance. He didn’t glare, didn’t sneer—he simply stood there , blocking Hope from Remus’ sight. Then, without a word, he placed a hand on Remus' back and gently steered him toward the train tracks.

Regulus caught the small sigh of relief Remus let out as they walked away.

Hope didn’t follow.

 

***

 

The train tracks stretched endlessly before them, the rails gleaming under the dull morning light. They could already hear the distant rumble of an approaching train.

"Alright," James said, rolling his shoulders. "Who's first?"

"I vote you ," Sirius said. "You're the reckless idiot who dragged us into half of this mess."

James scoffed. "I was thinking you could go first, Black. See if you've lost your edge."

Barty groaned. "Merlin, just jump on the damn train ."

The train roared toward them, metal wheels shrieking against the tracks.

James took off running first. As soon as the train was close enough, he jumped, grabbing onto a metal bar at the entrance of one of the cars. His landing was far from graceful—he nearly slipped before pulling himself inside.

Regulus went next, feeling the wind whip against his face as he sprinted. He caught the edge of the same train car, James’ hand reaching out to yank him up.

Sirius followed, his landing more solid than James’, though he winced as he pulled himself in. "Godric, I think I just dislocated my entire soul."

James groaned as he adjusted his stance. "Why does everything hurt?!"

"Because we keep getting stabbed and shot at," Sirius grumbled, rolling his shoulder with a wince. "Honestly, I thought jumping on a train would be the least painful thing we've done lately."

Remus landed beside them, shooting Sirius a look. "You thought jumping onto a moving train wouldn’t hurt?"

"I don’t know, Moons, it seemed romantic in my head."

Barty hauled himself in next, rolling his eyes. "You're both pathetic."

The others followed—Evan, Pandora, Marlene, and Lily.

As the train sped forward, the city shrinking behind them, they finally settled into place.

 

***

 

Regulus sat by the open door of the train car, watching the buildings blur past.

"So," James said, dropping beside him. "Candor."

Evan leaned back against the metal wall. "It's... interesting."

"That's one word for it," Pandora muttered.

James raised a brow. "What’s the catch?"

Pandora sighed. "Candor values truth above everything else. They believe that honesty is the foundation of justice."

"Sounds awful ," Barty deadpanned.

Evan smirked. "It’s not that bad, but it’s definitely... strict. No secrets. No deception. If you lie, they know ."

Regulus felt a sharp, twisting discomfort in his stomach.

No secrets.

He had too many of those.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt is the leader of Candor," Pandora continued. "He’s fair, but he doesn’t tolerate dishonesty. You can’t get away with half-truths or omissions. If we go there, we’ll have to tell them everything ."

James frowned. "Including where we came from and why we’re running?"

"Yes," Evan said. "Which is why Pandora and I both knew we couldn’t stay there forever. Candor expects complete transparency. I wanted something different—that’s why I chose Dauntless."

"And I chose Abnegation," Pandora added. "Because sometimes people deserve privacy."

Regulus clenched his jaw.

They would be forced to speak the truth.

And what then?

Would he be able to lie his way through it? Would he have to? Or would the truth serum drag the words from his throat like a confession to be picked apart by strangers?

He glanced at James, who was still deep in thought.

Would he lose James over this?

Would James hate him for it?

Sirius and Barty were still bickering in the background, something about which one of them had the worst aim when throwing knives, but Regulus barely heard them.

His thoughts were spinning.

The truth about James' parents. The secret Abnegation had kept from Erudite. His own past—the things he had done, the things he had allowed to happen.

Candor would strip him bare.

He gripped the edge of the train door, the wind biting at his skin.

James nudged him. "You alright?"

Regulus swallowed. "Yeah."

A lie.

James didn’t press him, just exhaled and leaned back against the metal wall.

Regulus stared out at the horizon, his mind drowning in the weight of the truth that had yet to be spoken.

 

***

 

The moment their feet hit the platform, they were surrounded.

Candor officials, dressed in crisp black and white uniforms, moved in with practiced precision. Guns slung across their backs, batons at their sides, their expressions unreadable.

Regulus barely had time to process before rough hands grabbed his wrists, twisting them behind his back. Cold metal clamped around them—handcuffs, locked tight.

A few feet away, James cursed loudly. "Oi! You could at least ask us if we’re a threat before slapping these on!"

"Silence," one of the officials ordered.

Regulus turned his head just enough to see the others—Sirius was resisting, of course, yanking against his restraints like he could break them with sheer force of will. Remus, on the other hand, was eerily still, his jaw clenched, eyes dark.

Pandora and Lily exchanged a worried glance, but neither of them fought. Marlene looked pissed off, while Evan and Barty simply stood there, assessing their captors with sharp, calculating gazes.

"Are we under arrest?" Sirius demanded. "Because personally , I think you should be thanking us for not siding with Erudite—"

The nearest Candor guard gave him a shove between the shoulder blades. "Move."

Sirius huffed , but Remus caught his eye and gave a small shake of his head. Not now.

Reluctantly, Sirius stopped struggling.

Regulus swallowed hard, stepping as close to James as the handcuffs would allow.

James must have noticed, because despite everything, he leaned in slightly. "It’s alright," he murmured. "They’ll listen to us. They have to."

Regulus wasn’t so sure.

 

***

 

The Candor capital building loomed ahead of them.

A massive structure made entirely of gleaming glass and steel, its walls reflecting the dull, gray sky. The entire thing seemed too clean , too transparent—like there was no room for secrets within its walls.

Regulus felt his stomach twist.

They were ushered inside, their boots clicking against the pristine marble floors. The silence was suffocating, punctuated only by the measured footsteps of their captors.

James kept throwing sharp glances at their surroundings, probably looking for an opening—some way to get out. But the Candor officials didn’t leave any.

They were marched into an elevator, crammed together so tightly that Regulus could feel the tension radiating off everyone.

The doors slid shut.

As the elevator ascended, Barty exhaled loudly. "Well , this is a warm welcome."

"Right?" Sirius said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Honestly, I expected at least a parade."

James let out a small huff of laughter, but no one else spoke.

Regulus’ fingers curled into fists behind his back. The higher they went, the heavier the weight in his chest became.

Finally, the doors opened with a quiet chime.

They were led into a stark white room—completely empty except for a long metal table and a set of chairs pushed against the far wall.

The guards shoved them forward and then, without a word, turned and left, locking the door behind them.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

"Alright," Sirius said, stretching his arms behind his head, "I say we break out of here immediately ."

James groaned. "Mate—"

"No, hear me out!" Sirius interrupted, already pacing the room."Technically , if I lift Barty onto my shoulders and we use Evan as a battering ram—"

"Oh my god ," Pandora muttered.

"—then Marlene and Lily can take the metal table and—"

"You’re insane," Barty said, shaking his head.

"—and if Regulus—"

"No," Regulus deadpanned.

Sirius scowled at him. "You don’t even know what I was going to say."

"I do , actually. It was stupid ."

"You wound me, little brother."

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, we’re not escaping , because we don’t even know what they want yet. Let’s just—"

"—wait?" Sirius scoffed. "Brilliant plan, Potter."

"Brilliant compared to yours ."

Regulus tuned them out. His attention drifted to the glass walls surrounding them, the way everything felt so... exposed. Like they were being watched.

No. Not like —they were being watched.

This was Candor. Transparency was their entire thing .

He exhaled slowly. This is bad.

 

***

 

Meanwhile, Barty had decided to entertain himself by egging Sirius on.

"Hey, Black," Barty drawled, leaning back against the wall. "How does it feel knowing you got captured twice in the same week?"

Sirius’ eyes narrowed. "You little—"

"Technically," Barty continued, "this is worse than Amity, because now you’re actually handcuffed ."

Sirius lunged. "You little— "

James caught him by the collar. "Nope. "

The room erupted into laughter. Even Lily was struggling to hold back a grin.

Sirius huffed dramatically, but there was amusement flickering in his eyes.

Barty just smirked. "This is the most fun I’ve had in days ."

But before he could say anything else, Remus—who had been silent the entire time—spoke.

"Enough. "

His voice was sharp, his tone clipped.

The laughter died instantly.

Barty blinked, caught off guard. "Remus—"

"Just shut up ," Remus snapped.

Sirius immediately turned to face him, his expression shifting from amusement to concern. "Moons—"

Remus inhaled deeply, then shook his head. "I just— I can’t listen to this right now."

Silence.

Regulus could see the way Sirius’ fingers twitched—like he wanted to reach for him, but wasn’t sure if he should.

After a moment, Sirius just nodded. "Alright," he said quietly. "We’ll stop."

Regulus glanced at Remus, noting the tension in his jaw. The exhaustion. The way his hands had curled into fists.

They were all fraying at the edges.

 

***

 

The door finally opened.

A man and a woman stepped inside—both dressed in crisp white shirts and black pants, the emblem of Candor pinned to their collars.

The man, Frank, had a strong build, dark skin, and a calm yet firm expression.

The woman, Alice, was smaller, but no less intimidating—sharp-eyed and steady, radiating an air of quiet authority.

"You're being taken to trial," Alice informed them. "To determine whether you pose a threat to Candor."

James frowned. "Trial?"

Frank nodded. "We need to ensure you aren't working with Erudite. And to do that, we require honesty."

Regulus went rigid.

Candor.

Truth.

He barely heard James arguing, barely registered Sirius rolling his eyes.

He only heard one thing.

They were going to make them talk.

 

***

 

The courtroom was enormous.

Glass walls stretched up toward the high ceiling, reflecting the bright overhead lights. Rows of seats were filled with Candor citizens, their expressions neutral but their eyes sharp, observing the proceedings with silent judgment. At the front of the room, elevated on a raised platform, sat Kingsley Shacklebolt, leader of Candor.

Regulus felt his heart hammering.

This wasn’t just an interrogation. This was a public trial.

They were marched inside, their hands still bound, and forced to stand in a line before the tribunal. Regulus swallowed hard, glancing to his side where James stood, fists clenched, tension radiating off him in waves.

"This is ridiculous," James muttered under his breath.

Sirius, standing beside him, scoffed. "You think ?"

Regulus barely heard them. His eyes flickered to the table in the center of the room—where a single syringe lay waiting.

Truth serum.

A shiver ran down his spine.

Kingsley stood, surveying them with an unreadable expression.

"You have come to Candor seeking refuge," he began. His voice was deep, steady—commanding the attention of the entire room. "But we cannot allow unknown variables to remain among us. We do not lie in Candor. And we do not allow liars to walk freely."

James made a strangled sound of protest. "So what—you're just going to force us to spill all our secrets?"

Kingsley met his gaze without blinking. "Only those who have nothing to hide have nothing to fear."

James spluttered . "That is the worst logic I have ever heard—"

"It is Candor’s way," Kingsley interrupted smoothly. "You may either cooperate, or you may leave. But you will not remain here as an unknown."

James’ jaw locked. He looked over at the others, frustration clear on his face.

Regulus knew what he was thinking. They had nowhere else to go.

They had no choice .

 

***

 

Sirius was the first one pulled forward.

Two Candor officials grabbed him by the arms and forced him into the chair at the center of the room. He struggled for a moment, then let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Let’s get this over with."

A woman in a stark white coat stepped forward, holding the syringe. She carefully injected the serum into Sirius’ arm, then stepped back.

It took a moment to settle in.

Then Sirius blinked, tilting his head. "Huh. Feels kinda warm."

There was a pause .

Kingsley leaned forward slightly. "State your full name."

Sirius frowned. "Sirius Orion Black," he answered automatically. His brows furrowed. "Ugh. I don’t like saying my middle name. It makes me feel like I’m about to get murdered by my mother —"

Regulus clenched his fists.

The Candor citizens chuckled, some whispering among themselves.

Kingsley remained impassive. "Are you a spy for Erudite?"

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Absolutely not ."

"Have you ever conspired with Erudite against another faction?"

"Hell no."

"Why did you leave Erudite?"

Sirius opened his mouth—then hesitated.

His expression darkened.

"I left because I was tired of being told what to do. Because I wanted freedom ."

Kingsley’s gaze sharpened. "Is that the truth?"

Sirius’ hands curled over the arms of the chair.

"No," he admitted. "I left because my parents were going to make me marry some pureblooded heiress and produce the perfect Dauntless heirs to carry on the Black family name. And I— " he inhaled sharply —I wasn’t going to let them control my life like that."

Regulus looked down, shame curling in his gut.

He already knew all of this. But hearing Sirius say it, forced into the open—

It made it real.

Kingsley nodded, unfazed. "Tell us about your time in Dauntless."

Sirius’ lips twisted into a humorless grin. "Oh, you mean the best years of my life ? The ones where I had to earn my place every single day? The ones where I actually had friends instead of a family that—"

He stopped.

Kingsley didn’t. "Instead of a family that what?"

Sirius clenched his jaw. He tried to fight it.

Tried to keep his mouth shut.

But the truth serum didn’t allow it.

"Instead of a family that hated me ," he bit out. "Instead of a mother who called me a disgrace every single day. Instead of a father who looked at me like I was a failure ."

The room was silent.

Regulus felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Sirius swallowed hard. His voice was quieter when he continued.

"My mother used to lock me in a cupboard when I made her angry," he said. "She called it punishment . Said it was the only way I’d learn."

Something sharp twisted in Regulus’ chest.

Kingsley regarded Sirius carefully. "Did you ever tell anyone?"

Sirius let out a breathless, bitter laugh. "And say what ? That the great Walburga Black was a monster ? No one would have believed me."

Regulus bit the inside of his cheek, nails digging into his palms.

He believed Sirius. He was there with him.

Kingsley let a beat pass before speaking again. "Is there anything else you feel the need to confess?"

Sirius blinked. "No—"

Then his eyes widened. His hands shot up, covering his mouth, but the words spilled out anyway.

"Remus and I are together! "

The room froze .

Regulus’ head snapped up. James’ mouth fell open.

Remus turned an alarming shade of red.

A few Candor citizens gasped. Some of them smirked .

Kingsley, to his credit, barely reacted.

"Thank you for your honesty," he said.

Sirius groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "You’ve got to be kidding me ."

James wheezed with laughter. "You absolute idiot."

Remus looked like he wanted to either punch Sirius or crawl into the floor.

Barty clapped a hand over his mouth, barely holding back his cackling.

Pandora and Lily exchanged amused glances.

Kingsley simply gestured for the guards to unstrap Sirius from the chair.

"You may return to your group," he said.

Sirius shot Remus an apologetic look as he stumbled to his feet.

"Moons —"

"Not. A. Word," Remus hissed. But a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Regulus snorted before he could stop himself.

Sirius shot him a glare.

But even with the embarrassment hanging thick in the air, Regulus couldn’t ignore the ache in his chest from everything Sirius had admitted.

The past, their mother, the cupboard.

It had been real.

And now, everyone knew.

 

***

 

The tension in the room had settled into something suffocating. Sirius’ confession still hung thick in the air, but Kingsley showed no interest in lingering on it. With a nod to his officials, he signaled for the next person to take the chair.

"Remus Lupin."

Remus stiffened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. Sirius turned to him immediately, concern flashing across his face. Remus didn’t look at him. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The Candor officials moved quickly, strapping him into the chair and injecting the serum into his arm. Remus barely flinched.

Kingsley folded his hands in front of him. "State your full name."

Remus licked his lips. "Remus John Lupin."

"Are you a spy for Erudite?"

"No."

"Have you ever conspired with Erudite against another faction?"

"Never."

Kingsley’s gaze sharpened. "Why did you leave Abnegation?"

Remus hesitated. His jaw clenched.

Regulus watched him struggle, watched him try to fight the serum—but it was useless.

"Because I was a burden," Remus said finally. His voice was quiet, but it rang through the silent courtroom like a gunshot. "Because my father hated me for what I was. Because no matter how hard I tried, I was never going to be good enough . Because a part of me wanted to risk my life."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. His fingers dug into the arms of the chair.

Sirius was watching him with an expression Regulus had never seen before—something fierce, something devoted .

Kingsley regarded Remus carefully. "Do you still believe that?"

Remus inhaled sharply.

"... Sometimes."

Regulus swallowed hard.

There was a beat of silence before Kingsley nodded. "Thank you for your honesty."

Barty was next.

He sauntered up to the chair like it was a joke, grinning as the officials injected him with the serum. He made a dramatic show of stretching out his limbs, winking at the nearest Candor official.

"State your full name," Kingsley said.

"Bartemius Crouch Junior."

Regulus watched the flicker of irritation cross Barty’s face—he hated his full name.

Kingsley continued. "Are you a spy for Erudite?"

Barty snorted. "Please. I’d rather die."

"Have you ever conspired against another faction?"

"Nope."

"What is your greatest regret?"

Barty blinked. His smirk faltered.

Regulus watched as he tried— really tried—to fight it.

But the serum was stronger.

"... Not telling Evan sooner," Barty muttered. His voice was so low that Regulus almost didn’t hear it. "I should have told him."

Evan went completely still.

Barty’s fingers twitched against the chair. His eyes flickered toward Evan, but he quickly looked away.

Regulus briefly wondered what that meant, but before he could give it any more thought, he looked at Kingsley.

Kingsley studied him, then nodded. "Thank you for your honesty."

The next few went by quickly.

Evan admitted that he’d never really wanted to be in Dauntless. That he’d chosen it because he was angry , because he’d wanted to prove something .

Pandora confessed that she missed Candor, even though she’d always known she wouldn’t stay.

Marlene admitted that she had no idea what she was doing anymore.

Lily told them that she still thought about the life she could’ve had in Amity—one where everything was simpler, where she didn’t have to fight .

Each confession was met with the same response.

"Thank you for your honesty."

 

***

 

Then it was James’ turn.

He hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. Regulus could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands flexed at his sides.

He hated this.

James Potter was reckless and loud and impossibly brave, but he hated being out of control. And right now, he was completely at their mercy.

The officials strapped him into the chair. The syringe slid into his arm.

James took a slow breath.

Kingsley leaned forward. "State your full name."

James exhaled sharply. "James Fleamont Potter."

Regulus blinked . "Fleamont ?"

James shot him a glare.

The Candor citizens chuckled.

Kingsley remained impassive. "Are you a spy for Erudite?"

James scoffed. "No."

"Have you ever conspired with Erudite against another faction?"

"Of course not."

Kingsley tilted his head. "Have you ever lied to someone you love?"

James grimaced . "... Yes."

"Give an example."

James let out a breath. "I—" He hesitated. "I lied to my mom about not breaking the lamp when I was eight."

Lily made a strangled sound of disbelief. "That’s the first thing you confess?"

James looked offended. "That was an important lamp!"

Sirius snickered. "Oh, this is going to be fun ."

James huffed. "Fine. I was the one who stained Sirius’ favorite shirt."

Sirius’ head snapped toward him. "You ?"

James winced. "It was an accident! I didn’t mean to—"

"DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I BLAMED REMUS FOR THAT?"

Remus smirked. "Years ."

Sirius groaned, dragging his hands down his face.

James grinned. "This truth serum isn’t so bad."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "Is there anything else you want to confess?"

James’ smile faded.

His eyes flickered toward Regulus.

And Regulus knew .

His stomach dropped.

"No," he said quickly.

James’ lips parted.

"Don’t ," Regulus pleaded.

James took a deep breath. His gaze softened.

"I'm in love with Regulus Black."

The words rang through the courtroom like a gunshot.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence .

Then—

"WHAT THE FUCK?! "

Regulus flinched as Sirius exploded .

James turned to him with an apologetic look. "Pads—"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH REGULUS BLACK?! " Sirius practically launched himself forward, but Remus grabbed his arm just in time, holding him back.

James sighed. "I mean exactly what I said."

Regulus couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe .

The room was staring at him.

He heard Barty mutter, "Well, that’s unexpected."

Evan hummed. "Not really."

Marlene let out a low whistle . "Damn."

Lily covered her mouth with her hands. Pandora beamed.

Regulus’ entire body felt like it was on fire.

Kingsley, as always, remained calm.

"Thank you for your honesty," he said.

Regulus wanted to die .

 

***

 

Regulus’ hands were trembling as he stepped forward. He tried to still them, to keep his face carefully blank, but he could feel the weight of everyone’s stares pressing down on him. He couldn’t look at James.

The officials strapped him into the chair. The leather felt cold against his skin.

He inhaled slowly, clenching his fists as the needle pierced his arm. The truth serum burned as it slid into his veins.

Regulus set his jaw.

He would not say it.

Kingsley’s voice was steady. "State your full name."

"Regulus Arcturus Black," he answered automatically.

"Are you a spy for Erudite?"

"No."

"Have you ever conspired with Erudite against another faction?"

"No."

Kingsley tilted his head. "Why did you leave Abnegation?"

Regulus gritted his teeth.

His mind fought against the pull of the serum, but his lips still parted.

"Because I was afraid," he admitted. "Because I knew my parents were wrong, but I didn’t know how to break free from them. Because—" He swallowed. "Because I knew if I stayed, they would destroy me."

A thick silence settled over the room.

Regulus’ breathing was uneven.

Kingsley didn’t hesitate. "Did they hurt you?"

Regulus’ throat tightened. His nails dug into his palms.

"Yes," he said quietly.

Sirius stiffened.

Kingsley continued. "How?"

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut. "You already know ," he wanted to scream. Sirius already told you. You already know what they did to us.

But the serum didn’t care what he wanted.

"They controlled everything," he whispered. "What I wore. What I ate. What I thought. If I questioned them, I was punished. If I hesitated, I was punished. If I made a mistake—" His voice wavered. "It was always worse when I made a mistake."

Sirius had gone completely still.

Regulus forced himself to keep going.

"They never hit me the way they hit Sirius," he admitted. "They didn’t have to. Mother’s words were sharper than any blade. Father didn’t speak at all, just watched while she—" He cut himself off.

He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t do this.

Kingsley let a beat of silence pass before he spoke again.

"What is your greatest regret?"

Regulus’ lips trembled.

"Not leaving sooner," he whispered. "Not protecting Sirius the way I should have. Not—" He took a shaky breath. "Not being braver."

Sirius inhaled sharply.

Regulus couldn’t look at him.

Kingsley studied him for a moment.

Then he asked the question Regulus had been dreading .

"Is there anything else you want to confess?"

Regulus felt cold .

His heart pounded. The serum surged through his veins, pulling at his mind, forcing him toward the truth. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached .

He could not say it .

He could not say it.

But his lips were already moving.

His voice cracked.

"James."

James straightened. "Reg?"

Regulus’ fingers curled into fists. He squeezed his eyes shut. His body trembled with the force of trying to hold it in .

But he wasn’t strong enough.

"... Your parents," he choked out. "James, your parents are dead ."

The words felt like shards of glass in his throat.

The room went deathly silent.

Regulus gasped for breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He finally forced his eyes open—

James was staring at him.

Frozen.

Unmoving.

His expression was unreadable.

Regulus’ breath hitched. "James ."

James didn’t respond.

His hands were limp at his sides. His mouth opened slightly—like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t .

Regulus struggled against the leather straps. "James, please. "

Still nothing.

Kingsley’s voice was calm and unwavering.

"Thank you for your honesty."

Regulus broke .

Notes:

Ughhhh poor James (as if I didn't write this 👀)

Protective Sirius ON TOP

Sirius immediately trying to break out and Barty egging him on is sending me 😂
Oop-those boys are stressing Remus out

FRANK AND ALICE MENTIONED!!

Official WolfStar announcement 👀

Of course James starts spilling all of his secrets. smh.
JEGULUS ANNOUNCEMENT THOUGH!!! (ft. Sirius the D1 crashout)

And Regulus... ouch.

Chapter 10: A Fractured Heart

The silence was suffocating.

Kingsley’s voice still rang in Regulus’ ears.

"None of them are working with Erudite."

The trial was over.

They were free.

And yet, as Frank and Alice led them through the gleaming glass corridors of the Candor compound, it didn’t feel like a victory.

Regulus kept his head down, barely registering the pristine walls or the elegant design of the space. He didn’t care about their so-called transparency.

He could feel James behind him. Could hear the sharp, ragged breaths he was taking.

Regulus didn’t dare look back.

The silence stretched between them all, heavy and unrelenting. Even Sirius, who could never resist making some sort of snide remark, was silent.

It felt wrong.

Regulus wanted to speak—to say something —but the words lodged in his throat.

He had already said too much.

Finally, they reached their destination.

Frank pushed open a heavy glass door, revealing a large, open space filled with sleek furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Candor compound. The place was beautiful, pristine— too perfect . It felt more like a cage than a place of safety.

Frank and Alice stepped aside. "This will be your living quarters for now," Frank said simply.

No one answered.

Regulus could feel the tension in the air.

Frank hesitated for a moment, then nodded and stepped away, leaving them alone.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, the silence shattered .

James spun on his heel, his eyes wild with fury and grief.

"How long?" he demanded. His voice cracked on the words. "How long have you known?"

Regulus opened his mouth, but James didn’t give him the chance.

"WHO KNEW?" James shouted. His hands curled into fists at his sides. "Who the hell knew and didn’t tell me?"

Regulus slowly raised his hand.

Then, one by one, Barty, Evan, and Marlene followed.

James let out a harsh, broken laugh.

"Unbelievable," he whispered. His hands trembled. " Unbelievable ."

Regulus took a hesitant step forward. "James—"

"Don't."

Regulus froze.

James’ dark eyes were burning, his chest rising and falling with every uneven breath.

"You lied to me," he said, his voice shaking with rage. "You let me believe they were still out there. You let me think—" He swallowed, looking away as his throat bobbed. " You let me hope. "

Regulus’ heart clenched.

"I—I wanted to tell you," he said weakly. "I swear, James, I wanted to—"

"Then why didn’t you?" James snapped. "Why did you let me go on like a fool, thinking I still had parents to go back to?"

Regulus felt like he had been punched.

"I was trying to protect you," he murmured.

James let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Protect me?" He shook his head. "No, Regulus. You betrayed me."

Regulus flinched.

James turned away, raking a shaking hand through his hair.

Sirius stepped up beside him, his eyes dark with anger.

"You kept this from him?" Sirius spat. His voice was low, dangerous. " You knew , and you didn’t tell him ?"

Regulus’ stomach twisted.

"Sirius—"

"You’re my brother ." Sirius’ voice was ice. "How could you do something like this?"

Regulus swallowed hard.

The pain in Sirius’ eyes was unbearable.

Regulus had spent his whole life trying to keep Sirius safe. Trying to be better than the family they had come from. And now—

Now Sirius looked at him like he was no better than them .

Regulus felt something inside him break .

"I didn’t mean to hurt you," he whispered.

James let out a harsh breath, shaking his head.

"I can’t do this right now," he muttered.

Regulus’ chest ached.

James turned and stormed off, disappearing into the hallway.

Sirius lingered for a moment longer, glaring at Regulus with so much disappointment that it made Regulus feel like he might collapse . Then, without another word, he followed James.

Remus was the last one standing there, caught between them all.

His expression was conflicted—pained.

He opened his mouth, hesitated, then just shook his head and walked away.

Regulus was left standing alone.

The weight of everything crashed down on him all at once.

James hated him.

Sirius hated him.

And maybe—maybe he deserved it.

 

***

 

The room was dark.

Regulus sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall.

He could still hear James.

The walls were thin, offering no protection from the raw, gut-wrenching sobs echoing from the next room.

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut.

James was crying.

Because of him .

Regulus clenched his fists. His nails bit into his palms, sharp enough to draw blood.

He deserved it.

He had destroyed everything.

His chest ached, his throat tight with unshed tears. He didn’t know how to fix this.

Maybe he couldn’t .

Maybe James would never forgive him.

Regulus bit his lip, his breathing uneven.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Notes:

Did I listen to some Taylor Swift when writing this chapter? ...Maybe

Chapter 11: The Breaking Point (James’ POV)

The penthouse was too small.

It wasn’t, technically. It had enough rooms to house all nine of them, a spacious common area, and even a decent kitchen by Candor’s standards. But with the way tension crackled in the air, suffocating and sharp, it might as well have been a prison cell.

James couldn’t breathe in it.

He sat stiffly on the couch, fingers digging into his knees. The voices of his friends blurred into background noise—Marlene arguing with Barty about food rations, Sirius muttering something to Remus, Lily and Pandora whispering in a corner. None of it mattered.

Because Regulus was sitting across from him, arms folded, his face as impassive as ever.

James burned with the need to yell, to demand answers, to shake him until he cracked. But Regulus had been silent for days now, ever since Sirius told James the truth.

The truth.

That Regulus had known James' parents were dead. That Regulus had known and never told him.

It was eating James alive, worse than the grief, worse than the war itself. He could understand enemies keeping secrets. He could even understand some of his own allies withholding things. But Regulus?

Regulus, who James had trusted with his heart, his future. Regulus, who had promised him—promised him—that they would face this war together.

But Regulus had made that promise while holding a lie behind his teeth.

James clenched his jaw so tightly it ached.

And then, as if drawn by some cruel magnetic force, Regulus looked up and met his gaze.

James stood abruptly. The scrape of the chair legs against the floor made everyone stop.

Regulus’ eyes flickered with something—wariness? Anticipation?

James didn’t care.

“We need to talk,” he said, voice flat.

Regulus’ lips pressed together, but he nodded. Without a word, he rose and followed James into one of the side hallways, away from the others.

As soon as they were alone, James turned on him.

“Did you ever plan to tell me?”

Regulus’ face remained unreadable, but James knew him too well. The slight twitch in his jaw, the way his hands curled into his sleeves—guilt.

“You already know the answer,” Regulus said quietly.

James laughed, but it was hollow and bitter. “Yeah, I do. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Regulus exhaled through his nose. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

James recoiled like he’d been slapped. “Wouldn’t have changed anything?” His voice rose. “Are you serious? You don’t think telling me that my parents were dead—my parents, Regulus!—would have changed anything?”

Regulus lifted his chin. “It wouldn’t have brought them back.”

James saw red. “That’s not the damn point!” He shoved a hand through his already-messy hair. “You knew, and you let me keep hoping. You let me believe they were out there, alive.”

Regulus flinched—just barely, but James caught it.

“They were already gone by the time I found out,” Regulus said, his voice taut. “What was I supposed to do? Tell you when we were already fighting for our lives? When you had a mission to focus on?”

James let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Yes, Regulus! That’s exactly what you were supposed to do! Tell me the truth!”

Regulus’ mask cracked then, and something raw and desperate slipped through. “And what would that have done? Broken you? Made you reckless? Gotten you killed?” He shook his head sharply. “I did what I thought was right.”

James took a step closer, breathing heavily. “No. You did what was easy. What was convenient for you.”

Regulus looked away.

James scoffed. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? You keep things close to your chest, you make decisions for people without asking them, and then you act like it’s some noble sacrifice.”

Regulus’ shoulders tensed. “I don’t—”

“You do, Regulus!” James cut in, voice rising again. “You did it when you refused to tell Sirius you were leaving Dauntless. You did it when you played both sides for months without telling me. And now this.” He shook his head. “I can’t—I can’t do this. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”

Silence.

Regulus’ face was blank again, but his hands trembled at his sides.

James waited. Waited for him to fight, to say something.

But Regulus only swallowed and whispered, “Okay.”

James’ stomach twisted.

But it was done.

He turned and walked away.

 

***

 

The penthouse was silent when James returned.

Marlene and Evan were pretending to play cards, but their glances were sharp. Barty sat with his feet propped on the table, eyes narrowed. Sirius and Remus stood near the window, both tense.

Pandora and Lily looked at James with quiet sympathy, but he ignored them all.

James moved to the room he shared with Sirius and Remus. He shut the door behind him and collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

It should have felt like relief.

But all he could hear was Regulus’ whisper—okay.

And all he could feel was regret.

 

***

 

Regulus didn't speak to anyone for the rest of the night.

Or the next day.

Or the next.

He moved through the penthouse like a shadow, eating only when necessary, avoiding eye contact. At first, Sirius tried to get through to him, but even he gave up after the second day.

The others noticed, but no one spoke about it.

Until Remus finally did.

“You can’t keep pretending he doesn’t exist, you know,” he said to James on the fourth night, when they were alone in their shared room.

James sighed and rolled onto his side. “Watch me.”

Remus didn’t laugh. “You’re miserable. He’s miserable. And, frankly, we’re all sick of walking on eggshells around the two of you.”

James frowned at the ceiling. “What do you want me to say, Moony? That I regret it?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

James clenched his jaw. “I don’t know.”

Remus was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Losing people to this war is inevitable. Losing someone by choice is worse.”

James didn’t sleep that night.

And in the room down the hall, neither did Regulus.

Notes:

JAMES POV!!! (sorry it had to be in this context 😬)

Someone give them hugs 😭

Chapter 12: Chapter 12 - Silence and Suffering

The penthouse felt colder now.

Not physically—Candor headquarters still had running electricity, and the heating worked fine. But the air was different, tense and brittle, like a glass about to shatter.

Regulus had barely spoken in four days.

No one called him out on it directly, but the silence was deafening. The group was used to his quiet nature, but this was different. Before, Regulus had been distant but present. Now, he was a ghost haunting the penthouse, slipping in and out of rooms without a word, eating only when necessary, avoiding everyone.

James was no better.

He wasn’t brooding in the same way Regulus was, but he might as well have been. His energy was off—sharper, more restless. He threw himself into training, spent hours in the makeshift gym downstairs, pushing himself past exhaustion just to avoid thinking.

He avoided Regulus.

Regulus avoided him right back.

The others felt the shift, but no one knew how to fix it.

They tried. Sirius had attempted on the second day, casually throwing himself onto Regulus’ bed and asking, “Are you done sulking yet?” That had gone about as well as expected—Regulus had stared at him blankly until Sirius sighed and left.

Pandora, ever the peacemaker, had suggested a group meal, hoping to get them all at the same table. Regulus hadn’t shown up. James had, but barely touched his food.

Even Lily, usually patient, was reaching her limit.

“I swear to God, I’m going to lock them in a room together until they sort this out,” she muttered to Remus and Marlene after dinner.

“They’d probably kill each other,” Marlene pointed out.

Remus sighed. “At least then the tension would be gone.”

None of them could do anything about it.

Regulus wouldn’t apologize.

James wouldn’t forgive.

So they were stuck.

 

***

 

The mood in the penthouse was so heavy that even Barty was starting to feel it.

He tried not to let things get to him—his personal philosophy was that if he stopped finding ways to laugh, he’d start realizing how completely screwed they all were. But even he had his limits, and this whole James-Regulus Cold War was ridiculous.

Which was why, on the fifth night of the silence, Barty decided they needed a distraction.

Unfortunately, his method of distraction involved annoying Marlene.

They were all in the common area—except for James and Regulus, who were both locked away in separate rooms, being miserable idiots.

Barty sat upside down on the couch, legs dangling over the backrest, tossing a rubber ball in the air. “You look extra murderous today, McKinnon. What’s wrong? Missing your gun?”

Marlene, who was sprawled on the floor flipping through an old Candor newspaper, didn’t even look up. “No, but I am considering throwing you out the window.”

Barty grinned. “Aw, you’d miss me.”

“Not even slightly.”

“You wound me,” he said, clutching his chest. “You wouldn’t even miss my sparkling personality? My stunning good looks?”

Evan snorted from his spot on the other couch. “Yeah, I’d miss watching you get punched in the face. It’s quality entertainment.”

Marlene smirked. “True. Barty does have a talent for getting his ass kicked.”

“Hey!” Barty scowled. “I win fights.”

Evan raised an eyebrow. “Name one.”

Barty opened his mouth, then paused. “That’s not the point,” he said finally.

Pandora, sitting cross-legged in the corner with Lily, giggled. “Maybe Barty just likes the attention.”

Marlene hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe.” Then, with a wicked glint in her eye, she added, “Or maybe he just likes getting beaten up when Evan’s watching.”

Barty froze.

Evan, to his credit, did not. He just smirked. “Oh? Is that why you’re always making a scene, Barty? Trying to impress me?”

Barty’s face went bright red.

“I—” He floundered. “That is not—”

Marlene grinned, triumphant. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Lily said, biting back a laugh.

Barty groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I hate all of you.”

Evan leaned back, utterly unbothered. “You love us.”

Barty made an unintelligible noise of suffering.

The tension in the room lifted—just a little.

 

***

 

Later that night, Marlene and Evan sat on the kitchen counter, splitting a stolen bottle of liquor.

The penthouse was quiet. Most of the others had gone to bed, but neither of them felt like sleeping.

Marlene took a sip and sighed. “This place is going to drive us all insane.”

Evan hummed in agreement, rolling the bottle between his hands. “Pretty sure it already has.”

She smirked. “You and Barty are adorable, though.”

Evan huffed a laugh. “Yeah? Tell him that.”

Marlene grinned. “Oh, I plan to.”

Silence stretched between them, more comfortable than the silence that filled the penthouse these days.

Then Marlene said, “You ever think we’re not gonna make it?”

Evan tilted his head, considering. “Yeah.”

She appreciated the honesty.

“Me too,” she said.

Evan took a slow sip. “We’re probably gonna kill each other before the war does, anyway.”

Marlene chuckled. “You, me, or the whole group?”

“All of the above.”

She nodded. “Fair.”

Another silence.

Then Evan smirked. “At least I’d go out looking hot.”

Marlene snorted. “Keep telling yourself that, Rosier.”

And for the first time in days, something felt normal.

 

***

 

Regulus lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.

It was becoming a habit.

He wasn’t sure how many hours had passed since he’d gone to his room, but it didn’t matter. Time was meaningless here. The days blurred together, marked only by the changing patterns of light that filtered through the penthouse windows.

He hated it.

He hated the silence.

He hated the looks people gave him, like they were waiting for him to do something. Apologize. Fix things.

But he couldn’t.

Because every time he thought about it—about walking up to James, about trying to explain—he remembered the way James had looked at him. Like he was a stranger.

And the worst part?

Maybe James was right.

Maybe Regulus had done this to himself.

He closed his eyes and exhaled.

It was fine. He was used to being alone.

He had spent years mastering the art of keeping his distance, of pretending he didn’t need anyone.

It shouldn’t feel different now.

It shouldn’t.

And yet.

Regulus clenched his fists.

The ceiling didn’t give him any answers.

And James was still down the hall, feeling just as hollow.

Notes:

RoseKiller vibes!!

Regulus... you caused this bud.

Also... this is kind of a multiple pov, but we'll just act like I mentioned that 😃

Chapter 13: Frustration (Remus' POV)

The problem with living in a cramped penthouse with eight other people was that there was never any privacy.

The problem with James Potter specifically was that he had no concept of boundaries.

Remus had spent years getting used to James being everywhere. As Dauntless initiates, they had shared a dormitory, meals, and missions. James was like a particularly affectionate, oversized golden retriever—always there, whether you wanted him to be or not.

But this?

This was a new level of suffocation.

Since the fight with Regulus, James had attached himself to Remus and Sirius like a parasite. He followed them from room to room, stuck to them during meals, sat between them on the couch, and worst of all—he never left their room.

It was driving Remus insane.

He wasn’t heartless. He knew James was grieving, and he knew the fight with Regulus had shattered him more than he wanted to admit. But goddamn it, Remus had his own problems to deal with.

Like the fact that he was still hopelessly, ridiculously in love with Sirius Black.

And James, for all his brilliance, was completely in the way.

***

 

James was sprawled across the bed, tossing a ball in the air. Sirius sat at the foot of the bed, flipping a knife between his fingers.

Remus sat in the only available chair, biting back the urge to slam his head into the nearest wall.

This is ridiculous.

He wanted to be alone with Sirius. He wanted to talk, to figure things out, or to just have a good old fashioned make out session with his boyfriends.

But James was always there.

Remus rubbed his temples, finally snapping. “James, would you mind giving Sirius and I a minute alone?”

James blinked. “What?”

“Uh, well it's just that you’ve been following us around for a couple days, and I was hoping I could talk to him for a while. Alone.”

James sat up, frowning. “Well, excuse me for wanting to spend time with my best mates instead of sitting in my room dwelling on how my life is falling apart.”

Sirius snorted. “Dramatic.”

James threw a pillow at him.

Remus groaned. “I’m not saying you have to lock yourself in your room, but maybe—just maybe—you could let me and Sirius have a conversation alone?”

James narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Remus opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

Sirius, however, didn’t hesitate. He turned to James, grinning wickedly. “Because Remus wants to make out with me.”

Remus choked.

James froze.

“…What.”

Remus smacked Sirius on the arm. “That is not—”

But Sirius just smirked. “Oh? So you don’t want to make out with me?”

Remus scowled, face burning. “I—that’s not the point!”

James, meanwhile, looked like his entire worldview had just shifted. His eyes flicked between them, gears turning rapidly in his head. And then—realization.

His face went bright red.

“Oh,” he said. Then, louder, “OH.”

Sirius cackled.

James’ mouth opened and closed like a fish. He pointed between them, eyes still wide. “You—you two—”

Sirius made a shooing motion. “Yes, very good, you’ve solved the mystery, now get out.”

James still didn’t move. “But—”

Remus, absolutely mortified, pinched the bridge of his nose. “James. Leave.”

James let out an undignified noise, scrambled off the bed, and nearly tripped over himself in his rush to the door. “I—right! Leaving!”

He fumbled with the handle, flustered beyond belief, then bolted from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Silence.

Then Sirius flopped back onto the bed, laughing hysterically.

“That was beautiful.”

Remus groaned. “That was humiliating.”

Sirius propped himself up on his elbows, still smirking. “Oh, come on, Moony. You do want to make out with me, don’t you?”

Remus sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Sirius—”

But Sirius’ expression softened. He sat up properly, moving closer, his usual bravado slipping just a little. “Remus,” he murmured.

And just like that, all of Remus’ frustration melted away.

Because, yeah. He did.

He wanted Sirius in ways he had spent years pretending he didn’t.

He wanted this.

So, instead of responding, Remus grabbed Sirius by the collar and kissed him.

For a split second, Sirius froze.

Then he melted into it, one hand fisting in Remus’ shirt, the other sliding into his hair.

The kiss was tentative at first—careful, testing. But then Sirius sighed against his lips, tilting his head, pressing in closer, and something inside Remus snapped.

He pulled Sirius against him, deepening the kiss, tilting his head to taste more. Sirius made a noise—low, needy—and Remus felt it everywhere.

It escalated quickly.

Sirius pushed Remus back onto the bed, slotting himself between his legs. Their bodies pressed together, heat rising between them. Sirius’ hands wandered, fingers slipping under Remus’ shirt, nails dragging over his ribs.

Remus gasped into his mouth, shivering.

Sirius grinned against his lips. “Sensitive?”

“Shut up,” Remus muttered, then bit his lip just to hear Sirius gasp in return.

Sirius growled.

Then his hands found the scars.

Remus stiffened.

Sirius froze, fingers tracing the old, jagged lines across Remus’ forearms. He didn’t say anything, didn’t pull away, didn’t ask.

Instead, he kissed them.

Soft, reverent. A silent understanding.

Remus exhaled shakily.

Sirius looked up at him through dark lashes, eyes unreadable. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he murmured.

Remus swallowed. “I—I’m not—”

Sirius kissed another scar, then another. “It’s okay,” he whispered against Remus’ skin. “I see you.”

Something inside Remus cracked.

He pulled Sirius up and kissed him again, harder this time, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it.

Sirius responded in kind, hands gripping him like he would never let go.

“I love you” Sirius whispered into Remus’ ear. 

The sound reverberated in Remus’ head and he let out an involuntary moan.

And then—

BANG BANG BANG.

They both froze.

From the other side of the wall, Barty’s exasperated voice rang out.

“THE WALLS ARE THIN, AND NOBODY WANTS TO HEAR YOU TWO GOING AT IT!”

Remus let out an undignified wheeze.

Sirius, without hesitation, pulled back just enough to scream, “FUCK OFF, CROUCH!”

Silence.

Then Barty snorted. “Fine, fine. But if I have to hear another minute of that, I’m jumping out the window.”

They heard footsteps retreating down the hall.

Remus buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

Sirius, the absolute bastard, just laughed.

Then he pulled Remus’ hands away from his face, grinning down at him. “Worth it?”

Remus pretended to consider it. Then, smirking, flipped them over, pinning Sirius to the bed.

“Definitely.”

Notes:

Haha thin walls... that's all I got

Chapter 14: The Attack Begins

The sound that tore through the penthouse was shrill and relentless.

Regulus woke with a jolt, heart hammering, his mind foggy with sleep. The blaring alarm rattled through the walls, a mechanical, grating noise that set his nerves on edge. He groggily pushed himself up, blinking against the dim light filtering through the curtains.

The door to his room flew open, and a very disgruntled Barty stumbled in, hair a mess, shirt askew.

“What the actual fuck is that?” he snarled, voice thick with exhaustion.

Regulus groaned, dragging himself out of bed. “I don’t know, but I think we’re about to find out.”

By the time he made it into the living room, the others were already gathering, looking just as tired and confused as he felt. Marlene was rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Lily was shoving her boots on. Pandora, still wrapped in a blanket, looked halfway to murder.

Sirius, on the other hand, was fully awake—and fully pissed.

“I swear to Merlin, if this is some stupid faction-wide drill—”

His rant was cut off by a robotic voice crackling over the speakers.

“ATTENTION. CANDOR IS UNDER ATTACK. ALL CITIZENS ARE TO EVACUATE OR DEFEND THEMSELVES IMMEDIATELY.”

Silence.

Then—chaos.

 

***

 

The exhaustion vanished in an instant. Everyone scrambled to grab their weapons, throwing on whatever gear they could.

“We need to get downstairs,” James said sharply, already strapping a knife to his belt. “Now.”

Regulus barely had time to lace his boots before they were moving, racing down the penthouse stairs, their footfalls echoing off the walls.

The second they hit the ground floor, it was hell.

Candor was burning.

Flames licked at buildings, smoke curled in thick clouds, and gunfire ripped through the air. Dauntless traitors moved like shadows through the chaos, striking down anyone in their way. Civilians ran, screaming, some already succumbing to whatever new horror the traitors had brought with them.

Regulus barely dodged a knife aimed at his ribs, reacting on instinct as he slammed his attacker to the ground.

They weren’t here to just kill.

They were here to turn.

 

***

 

The air smelled like smoke and blood.

Regulus had fought in plenty of battles before. He had seen chaos firsthand, had carved his way through enemy lines, had stood beside his allies while bodies fell like discarded chess pieces. But this—this—was something different.

This wasn’t just war.

This was annihilation.

They were turning people.

He, Evan, and Barty fought side by side, dodging gunfire and cutting down traitors as they moved through the battlefield. Every enemy that fell was replaced by another. Every inch of ground they gained was quickly lost again.

Still, they held their ground.

They had always worked well together.

Evan fought with ruthless efficiency, his blade slicing through the air like poetry. He had always been the fastest of the three of them—quick on his feet, precise, never wasting an extra movement.

Barty, meanwhile, was a storm. His combat was pure aggression, fueled by a reckless, unrelenting fury. He didn’t fight with a plan so much as he fought despite one, charging straight into enemies like a rabid animal and taking them down through sheer force of will.

Regulus balanced them.

He wasn’t as quick as Evan, nor as reckless as Barty, but he was strategic. He knew where to strike, when to strike, and who to take out first. Together, they were nearly unstoppable.

Nearly.

Because the enemy wasn’t fighting to win.

They were fighting to infect.

One moment, Evan was there.

The next—

A Dauntless traitor grabbed him from behind.

Regulus barely had time to register what was happening before he saw the soldier’s hand move. A quick flash of silver.

A syringe.

Regulus’ stomach dropped.

The needle sank into Evan’s neck.

“EVAN!”

Evan’s eyes went wide. He jerked violently, as if electrocuted. His whole body convulsed before he collapsed.

Time slowed.

Regulus didn’t hear the gunfire anymore. Didn’t hear the screaming. Didn’t hear anything but the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears.

For a split second, everything else ceased to exist.

Then—

Barty snapped.

With a raw, inhuman snarl, he lunged at the soldier who had injected Evan, and tore him apart.

Regulus had never seen Barty fight like that.

He had always known Barty was dangerous, but this? This was something else.

It wasn’t a fight. It was a slaughter.

The soldier didn’t stand a chance. Barty’s knife sank into his chest, his gun fired twice, three times, four times—he kept going long after the body had stopped moving.

It was brutal. It was messy. It was terrifying.

And it didn’t matter.

Because Evan was still on the ground.

And when Regulus turned back to him—

He was already changing.

Evan lay on his side, body still twitching. His breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as if he were fighting against something.

His face was twisted in pain.

Regulus didn’t even realize he had moved until he was suddenly kneeling beside him.

“Evan?” he called. “Can you hear me?”

Evan didn’t respond.

Barty dropped to his knees next to him.

“Evan, look at me.” His voice was frantic, cracking at the edges. He reached out, gripping Evan’s shoulders. “Come on, mate, just—just say something.”

Evan blinked.

His eyes flickered.

Then—

The moment his gaze locked onto Barty, Regulus knew.

Knew that something was wrong.

Because Evan’s expression was—empty.

His eyes were glazed over, unfocused. Not vacant, exactly, but detached. Like he wasn’t really there.

Barty must have seen it too.

Because his breath hitched.

“Evan?”

Evan moved.

Faster than Regulus thought possible, he shoved Barty off him.

Barty stumbled back, stunned.

Regulus’ blood ran cold.

Evan’s hands fumbled at his belt. He reached for his gun with an unreadable expression—face blank, eyes lifeless.

And then—

He raised the gun to Barty’s head.

Barty’s face crumpled.

“NO!”

Regulus saw the moment Barty realized.

Saw the exact second the horror sank in.

Because Barty wasn’t going to stop him.

He couldn’t.

Regulus’ stomach twisted.

Barty would fight the whole world, would tear apart every single person who stood in his way—but not Evan.

Never Evan.

Barty’s hands trembled. His eyes shone with unshed tears.

He wasn’t going to do it.

He wasn’t going to stop him.

Which meant—

Regulus had to.

He threw himself forward, tackled Evan to the ground, and ripped the gun out of his hands.

Evan struggled violently, but Regulus held firm, gritting his teeth as he pinned him down.

“HELP ME!” he shouted at Barty.

Barty snapped out of it.

Without hesitation, he dropped to the ground, helping Regulus restrain Evan. They twisted his arms behind his back, stripped him of his weapons, held him down until he stopped thrashing.

Barty was shaking.

Regulus wasn’t sure if it was from fear or anger or grief.

“Is he—” Barty swallowed hard. “Is he still in there?”

Regulus looked down at Evan. His breathing was shaky, his face blank, his body unnaturally stiff.

He didn’t know.

But he wasn’t going to risk finding out.

“Take him,” Regulus ordered. His voice was firm, but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “Get him somewhere safe. Hide. Now.”

Barty hesitated. Just for a moment.

Then, without another word, he wrapped his arms around Evan’s limp, struggling body, and disappeared into the shadows.

Regulus watched them go.

Then he turned—

And ran back into the fight.

 

***

 

Regulus ran, his heart pounding.

He had no idea where the others were—if they were safe, if they were hurt, if they were even alive. His mind screamed at him to stop, to go back for Evan and Barty, but he couldn’t.

Because Candor was burning.

Smoke thickened the air, stinging his lungs as he sprinted through the wreckage. Gunfire ripped through the streets, and everywhere he looked, the world was falling apart.

Civilians ran in terror, but some weren’t lucky enough to escape. Regulus caught glimpses of them thrashing on the ground, their bodies jerking, their eyes turning vacant as the serum overtook them. Then—like puppets on strings—they stood. Turned. Raised their weapons against their own people.

This wasn’t a battle anymore.

This was a massacre.

He had to find the others.

Gunfire cracked from his left. Regulus barely ducked in time, the bullet whizzing past his ear. He rolled behind a collapsed wall and scanned the battlefield, his breath coming fast and ragged.

Then, movement—

James.

Regulus’ chest tightened at the sight of him, alive and fighting. James moved like a soldier born for war, striking with brutal precision. His jaw was tight, his expression carved from stone.

Regulus wanted to go to him.

But then he spotted Sirius and Remus a few feet away, fighting in perfect sync.

Remus moved with careful calculation, his strikes precise. Sirius was wild, unpredictable—all teeth and sharp edges. They covered each other’s blind spots, two pieces of a whole.

Nearby, Marlene and Lily fought together, cutting through enemies like a storm. Lily shot down a traitor, and Marlene covered her flank, working seamlessly together.

They were all still alive.

But they were losing.

For every enemy they cut down, three more took their place. More Candor citizens fell to the serum. The infected outnumbered them. It was only a matter of time.

Regulus barely had a second to react before something slammed into him from behind.

The force of it sent him sprawling, his palms skidding against the blood-slicked floor. His head snapped up just in time to see a flash of movement—a fist aimed straight for his face.

He rolled.

The punch barely missed, grazing his cheekbone, but Regulus wasn’t given a second to breathe before another blow came. He threw up his arms just in time, catching the brunt of it on his forearm, but the sheer force of it sent him staggering back.

And then he saw who he was fighting.

Mulciber.

His stomach dropped.

Mulciber grinned. His knuckles were bruised, his shirt splattered with blood—some of it his, most of it belonging to the people he had cut down tonight.

He looked thrilled.

“Well, look at this,” Mulciber said, voice dripping with amusement. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”

Regulus didn’t answer.

He didn’t have time to answer—because Mulciber lunged.

Regulus barely had time to block the next attack. Mulciber moved fast, his strikes brutal, meant to break, not just hurt.

Regulus dodged left, barely avoiding a punch to his ribs. He swung, aiming for Mulciber’s head, but Mulciber caught his wrist and twisted.

Regulus gasped. His arm screamed in protest, but he didn’t have time to acknowledge the pain before Mulciber drove his knee into his stomach.

The air rushed from his lungs.

Regulus staggered. He barely managed to stay on his feet, vision blurred at the edges.

Mulciber let out a low chuckle. “Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted.

Regulus gritted his teeth.

He wouldn’t win this in brute strength. Mulciber had him beat there.

But he could still outthink him.

Regulus feigned a stumble, letting his knees buckle slightly. Mulciber took the bait—he stepped forward, moving to finish the fight.

That was his mistake.

Regulus struck.

He surged upward, using the momentum to slam his fist into Mulciber’s throat.

Mulciber choked, reeling back in surprise.

Regulus didn’t hesitate. He followed up with a brutal kick to the knee, knocking him off balance. Then, with every ounce of force he had, he drove his elbow into the side of Mulciber’s head.

Mulciber went down.

Regulus’ breaths came fast and ragged. He took a step back, chest heaving.

He had him.

For a brief, fleeting moment, he thought he had won.

And then—

Mulciber laughed.

Regulus’ stomach turned to ice.

Mulciber pushed himself up onto his knees, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “You fight dirty,” he mused. “I respect that.”

Regulus took a slow step back.

Mulciber smirked.

And then he pulled out a gun.

Regulus froze.

The metallic click of the safety being released was deafening.

He should have expected this. Should have seen it coming.

But he hadn’t.

Mulciber stood, slow and deliberate, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll admit,” he said conversationally, “you actually put up a fight. Most people just beg.” He tilted his head. “You’re not going to beg, are you, Black?”

Regulus’ hands curled into fists.

Mulciber sighed. “Shame.”

He raised the gun.

Regulus’ heartbeat was thunder in his ears.

For the first time since the fight began, he was afraid.

This wasn’t just another battle.

This wasn’t a fight he could win with skill or speed or sheer willpower.

This was death.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

His thoughts turned to Sirius.

He thought about how they had finally started talking again, how Sirius had hugged him so tightly when they made up, like he was afraid Regulus would disappear.

He thought about James.

About how much it had hurt when James said he couldn’t trust him. About how badly he wanted to fix things, to go back to the way things were before.

He wished he had told him.

He wished he had told James about his parents the moment he found out.

He wished he had told James that he still—always—

A tear slipped down his cheek.

Mulciber smirked.

“Goodbye, Black.”

The gunshot rang out into the night.

Notes:

If anything happens to Evan I swear... 👀

Mulciber, this is for you 🖕

OH NO REGGIE 😏 (guys come on there's like 50 chapters left 🙄)

Chapter 15: Fire and Forgiveness

Regulus’ world spun.

For a split second, there was nothing but the sound of a gunshot, a sharp, deafening crack that ricocheted through his mind. His body was frozen, poised on the cusp of life and death, unable to move, unable to react. His chest tightened, and his breath caught in his throat. He half-expected to feel the sting of a bullet tearing through him—expected to fall, to collapse under the weight of pain—but then, it never came.

He didn’t feel anything.

The air around him seemed to thicken, and he was left standing there in the smoke and chaos of battle, staring at Mulciber, the man who had been about to end him.

Mulciber was clutching his stomach now, his face contorted in a grimace of agony, blood seeping through his fingers. He crumpled to the floor with a strangled yell, collapsing onto his knees as he screamed in pain. The force of it made Regulus flinch. His mind raced, trying to process what had just happened. Mulciber had been about to kill him—so why wasn’t he dead?

Regulus looked around, confused, his head spinning as he tried to piece things together. His heart hammered in his chest, a dull throb of adrenaline and fear. His body was still tense, still ready for the next blow, but nothing seemed to be happening.

And then, his eyes found him.

James.

James was standing just a few feet away, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his forehead, a look of fierce determination on his face. Regulus' breath hitched in his throat. There was a gun in James' hand, aimed in Mulciber's direction, but the weapon was lowering slowly now, the threat dissipating with every second. James' grip on the gun was shaky, his other hand flexing at his side as if the weight of what he had just done was crashing down on him.

Regulus swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to feel. All that mattered in this moment was that James had saved him. James had pulled the trigger and spared his life.

James’ gaze found Regulus and held it—steady, unwavering. And Regulus couldn’t look away. For a second, it was just the two of them, standing in the midst of battle, surrounded by chaos, and yet it felt as though time had frozen for just a moment. His pulse echoed in his ears, and the lingering tension between them, all the pain and the misunderstandings, seemed to fade into the background.

James took a step toward him. “Regulus,” he breathed, his voice thick with relief and something else—something softer, rawer. His eyes were searching Regulus’ face as if trying to find confirmation that this was real, that he was still alive.

Regulus blinked, suddenly aware of his body again. His legs were shaky, his knees threatening to give way beneath him. The air felt too heavy, too thick with smoke and the smell of blood. He had to get to James. He needed to get to him, needed to feel him, to make sure that he wasn’t imagining this—imagining the safety, the comfort that James’ presence brought.

He took a step forward, his legs wobbling, his vision blurry from the adrenaline, but he couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t think about anything but James. Not the war, not the Dauntless soldiers, not even the distant sound of more explosions. He just wanted to reach James. His feet carried him forward without hesitation, and before he knew it, he was in James’ arms.

The second James pulled him close, everything seemed to quiet. The roar of the battle faded, and all Regulus could hear was the steady beat of James' heart, thundering in his ears. His hands grasped at James’ back, holding on as if he might disappear if he didn’t. The feeling of James’ arms around him was everything he had been craving for so long—safety, reassurance, tenderness. Regulus couldn’t help the sob that tore from his throat, the tears that welled up and spilled over.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” James whispered, his voice low and ragged as he pulled Regulus closer. His hands were trembling as they moved to cup Regulus' face, wiping away the blood and dirt that clung to his skin.

“I thought I lost you too,” Regulus murmured back, his voice breaking. His throat was tight, his chest heavy with emotion. His mind still struggled to process everything, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was this moment, the feeling of James holding him, the warmth of his embrace, the rush of emotion that filled him to the brim.

They stayed like that for a long moment, tangled in each other’s arms, both of them shaking, both of them broken in their own way but finding solace in the other. The world continued to burn around them, but none of it mattered. James was here. Regulus was still here. And that was enough.

James pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, to meet his eyes. His thumb brushed over Regulus’ cheek, his gaze tender but tinged with something darker, something that reflected the weight of everything they had gone through.

“Regulus,” James started, his voice thick with emotion. “I... I can’t lose you again. I don’t care about anything else. I need you. I don’t care how we got here or what happened before. I just need you here with me.”

Regulus felt the lump in his throat grow larger. He had wanted to say this for so long—wanted to say it but couldn’t bring himself to. Now, with James so close, so raw, so real in front of him, the words felt like they were finally ready to spill out.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus said softly, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry for everything. I should’ve trusted you, should’ve told you everything from the start—about my parents, about everything. I was so scared. I... I didn’t know how to handle it, James. I didn’t know how to trust.”

James’ hand trembled as he touched Regulus’ face, and then he kissed him. It was a soft kiss at first—hesitant, testing the waters—but it quickly became more, growing hotter, more desperate, as if the kiss was an apology, a confession, a promise all in one. Regulus melted into it, his hands sliding up to clutch James’ shirt, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss. Everything they hadn’t said, everything they’d been too afraid to speak, seemed to pour into that kiss—raw, unfiltered, and full of longing.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, cheeks flushed, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I love you,” Regulus whispered, his voice barely audible. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

James swallowed, his own tears falling freely now. “I love you too,” he whispered back, his voice breaking as he pressed his forehead to Regulus’. “I just—God, I just want to be with you.”

Regulus could feel his heart cracking wide open, the weight of their shared pain mingling with the relief of finally having found each other again. He didn’t know how they were going to fix everything, didn’t know how to make up for the time they’d lost or the things that had been said. But for now, in this moment, they had each other. And that was enough.

Before Regulus could respond, a massive explosion shook the ground beneath them. The shockwave sent a cloud of dust and debris into the air, and Regulus had to hold onto James to steady himself. The world didn’t stop, didn’t care that they had just found something that felt real. It was still burning.

But James was still here. Regulus was still here.

“We have to go,” James said, his voice firm, pulling away from him and grabbing his weapon. “We can’t just sit here.”

Regulus nodded, his heart racing once more, adrenaline surging through his veins as he grabbed his own gun. They had no time for anything more. They had to fight.

The two of them ran toward the chaos, finding Sirius and Remus a short distance away, helping civilians and fighting off Dauntless soldiers who had been injected with the simulation serum. The fight was intense, but Sirius and Remus were holding their own. Their faces were grim, their movements swift and coordinated.

“What the hell took you so long?” Sirius asked with a smirk, though his eyes betrayed his worry. It was clear that he was glad to see them, but the battle wasn’t over yet.

James shot him a look, breathless and frustrated. “We had some things to sort out.”

Regulus couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up in his chest, the sound strange and out of place given the circumstances. But it felt good—good to have James by his side again, good to have their bond finally, finally intact.

Remus gave a tight-lipped smile as he wiped blood from his brow. “Glad to have you back, mate,” he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “We could use all the help we can get.”

Regulus nodded, determination returning to his chest. They moved into position with their friends, prepared to keep fighting. But as the battle raged on, they found themselves surrounded.

For a brief moment, it felt as though all was lost. They were outnumbered, trapped. Their backs were to the wall, and Regulus’ chest tightened as he looked around, realizing there was no way out.

James squeezed Regulus’ hand tightly, his eyes dark with fear, but there was something else there—resolve. They weren’t going to die without a fight.

“We go down fighting,” Regulus said quietly, his voice steady despite the rising fear.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” James replied, his hand never leaving Regulus’.

Sirius’ hand found Remus’ as well, their fingers interlaced in an unspoken vow. It was over. They were ready to die if it meant ending it all.

The four of them stood together, their backs pressed against each other, ready to face whatever came next.

But then, the world shifted.

A new sound broke through the chaos—louder, sharper than the rest. It was a sound of reinforcements arriving.

From the smoke emerged the unmistakable figures of the Factionless, led by none other than Hope Lupin.

Regulus’ breath caught in his throat, his heart leaping with surprise and relief. The Factionless had arrived. The tide of battle had turned. And, just like that, the attackers—Dauntless and Erudite alike—were on the retreat.

Hope Lupin, her face set with fury and determination, moved through the battlefield like a force of nature, cutting down anyone who stood in her way. Her people fought with precision, taking down Dauntless soldiers with ruthless efficiency.

The Dauntless soldiers who had been in control of the serum were falling, one by one, and the battle shifted dramatically in their favor. Regulus watched in awe as the tide of war turned, the enemies that had seemed so unbeatable now retreating, scrambling to save themselves.

They had won.

And somehow, amidst the wreckage, amidst the carnage, amidst the chaos, they were still standing.

The battle wasn’t over, but the Factionless had secured victory for the moment. And for the first time in a long while, Regulus allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could win this war.

Notes:

WOOOHOOOO THEY'RE BACK BABY!!

They are all standing there holding hands like 👬👬

Hope for the win... finally

Chapter 16: Mulciber Falls

The smell of blood and smoke still lingered in the air when the group finally made their way back to Candor’s headquarters, weary and battle-worn. The fight had been brutal, but they had survived. Mulciber, the man who had led the Dauntless attack, was now in their custody, his injuries severe but not fatal. They had managed to capture him after Hope Lupin and the Factionless had made their move, turning the tide of battle in their favor. Now, he was their prisoner, bound and helpless, awaiting interrogation.

Regulus didn’t know how to feel about the whole thing. Part of him was relieved. He had almost died at Mulciber’s hands, and the thought of him being captured brought a strange sense of justice. But another part of him was still tense, still haunted by the image of Mulciber standing over him, ready to pull the trigger. He didn’t know if he would ever feel completely safe again.

Sirius, James, Remus, and the rest of their friends were there, too, standing in the hallway just outside the trial room, exchanging nervous glances. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hope Lupin had insisted that they conduct the interrogation under the influence of truth serum. The plan was to get as much information as possible—information about the Dauntless betrayal, about Riddle’s growing influence over the factions, and anything else that might help them understand how the Erudite and Dauntless had become so corrupted.

“Is he ready?” James asked, his voice rough from exhaustion.

Kingsley nodded from where he stood by the door. He’d been one of the first to join the fight in Candor, and though the battle had been brutal, he was calm and composed now. His gaze flickered over to Regulus before he answered.

“He’s ready,” Kingsley said, his voice low and authoritative. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t hide anything. Truth serum doesn’t lie.”

James shot Regulus a look—one full of concern and something else, something deeper. Regulus didn’t look away, but he didn’t say anything either. This was about more than just Mulciber. They needed answers.

With a deep breath, James stepped forward and opened the door. Inside, the dimly lit trial room felt cold, sterile. Mulciber was seated on a metal chair, his hands bound to the arms, his face pale from blood loss but still full of the same contemptuous sneer. His eyes flickered to the door as they entered, and for a moment, there was a palpable silence between them.

Hope Lupin stood beside Kingsley at the far end of the room, arms crossed and watching Mulciber with disdain. The two of them had been chosen to lead the interrogation, given their level-headed approach and their knowledge of how to handle the truth serum. The others filed in, standing in the background, ready to witness whatever came next.

Mulciber barely seemed fazed by the fact that they had captured him. His expression twisted into a smirk as his gaze swept across the group.

“Not the outcome I was hoping for,” Mulciber said, his voice raspy from the pain. He seemed to be enjoying the torment, as if the whole situation were some sick game.

Kingsley stepped forward, his presence imposing and calm. “This is your chance to answer the questions you’ve been avoiding. You’re under truth serum now, Mulciber. You’ll tell us everything.”

Mulciber’s smile faltered just slightly, but he didn’t seem worried. “Ask away, then,” he sneered.

Hope Lupin narrowed her eyes, clearly irritated. “How long has Riddle been controlling the Dauntless and Erudite factions? When did this all begin?”

Mulciber didn’t hesitate. The truth serum worked fast, and it was already beginning to strip away his defenses. His expression shifted into something colder, darker.

“It started long before the war. Before I even joined the Dauntless faction,” Mulciber said, his voice distant. “Riddle infiltrated both Dauntless and Erudite, slowly turning them into his puppets. He convinced us that he could offer something better—something we couldn’t get on our own. I was just one of many who were seduced by his power. And the more we gave him, the more power he gave us.”

Kingsley exchanged a glance with Hope, who nodded slightly, her expression grim.

“Where’s Riddle now?” Kingsley asked.

Mulciber’s smile returned, though it was tinged with bitterness. “You think I’d tell you that? Riddle is untouchable. He has control over everything now. You’ll never find him. Never.”

“Tell us where he is, Mulciber,” Hope snapped, stepping forward. “We need to know how deep his control goes, how much he’s poisoned the rest of the factions.”

Mulciber laughed, though it was weak and bitter. “It’s too late. You’re already too late. He’s already won. He’ll make sure you all burn.”

Regulus felt a chill crawl up his spine. Mulciber’s words were unsettling, the hint of madness in his tone making it hard to ignore. But they needed more. They needed to know exactly what Riddle had planned.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Regulus said, his voice quiet, steady. He had to know. “Is there anything else you want to confess?”

For a moment, Mulciber’s eyes flickered to him. Regulus could see the recognition, the understanding. There was something in the way Mulciber looked at him—something cold, something that made his blood run cold.

Mulciber let out a dry chuckle, then leaned back in the chair as if he were settling in for a long confession. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice suddenly taking on a dangerous edge. “I wish I had killed you the first day you stepped into Dauntless. You never should’ve made it this far. I should’ve done it then. It would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

Regulus froze. His chest tightened, the blood draining from his face as his heart stuttered in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. The words hung in the air, loud and taunting. Mulciber had wanted him dead from the beginning. He had never seen Regulus as anything more than a target—a weakness to be eliminated.

It felt like the ground beneath him had vanished, and all that remained was the crushing weight of Mulciber’s words.

James’ hand was suddenly on Regulus’ shoulder, steadying him. His grip tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of Regulus' shirt as if grounding him. Regulus didn’t know if it was the warmth of James’ touch or the way he clung to him that made his vision clear again. But in that moment, something else clicked inside of him—something darker, something raw.

Without a second thought, James stepped forward, his expression hardening into something cold and determined.

“I think it’s time to end this,” James said, his voice low and dangerous. He didn’t wait for anyone’s approval. His eyes never left Mulciber, and with a swift motion, he raised his gun. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts. Just the sound of the shot ringing out, a sharp crack that echoed through the room.

Mulciber’s body jerked as the bullet struck him, and he collapsed forward in his chair. He didn’t have time to scream. His life had ended in an instant, a moment of pure justice.

The room fell silent.

Regulus felt the weight of the moment press down on him. His chest was still tight, his breath shallow. He didn’t know what to think, what to feel. There was a part of him that wanted to flinch, that wanted to turn away. But another part of him, deep inside, felt something else—a strange satisfaction, an emptiness being filled. This was necessary. Mulciber had been a threat, and now he was gone.

He didn’t know why, but the thought of James executing him—it was strangely... attractive. The decisiveness, the power behind it—it made something inside of him stir, something he didn’t fully understand.

James turned, his face unreadable, and looked at Regulus. For a moment, they just stared at each other, no words exchanged.

Oh yeah, Regulus definitely found that attractive. 

 

***

 

The soft hum of the penthouse felt like a distant echo as Regulus sat on the edge of his bed, the weight of the past few hours finally beginning to sink in. He had just witnessed the execution of a man who had been a part of his life for far too long. Mulciber, the very man who had tried to tear them all apart, had fallen before him. But it wasn’t just the battle they had fought tonight that lingered in his thoughts. It was the quiet, shared understanding between him and James, the fragile peace they had just begun to build, one kiss at a time.

Regulus ran a hand through his hair, staring out the window at the darkened skyline of Candor. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for what would come next. There was still so much unsaid between him and James, so much left unresolved. But for now, the aftermath of Mulciber’s death, the chaos of the battle, and the sting of everything that had happened in the past few weeks, all of it seemed distant.

He hadn’t realized how long he had been sitting there until he felt a presence behind him. A gentle touch on his shoulder sent a shiver down his spine, and he turned to find James standing in the doorway, eyes searching his face.

“Hey,” James said softly, his voice warm and steady, but laced with something else—something Regulus couldn’t quite name.

Regulus gave him a small, uncertain smile. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

James shrugged, stepping into the room, his gaze never leaving Regulus. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to. But... I’m here now.”

The words hung in the air between them, neither of them fully comfortable with the space that had grown between them over the past days. They had been through so much, and yet, there was still so much left unsaid, so many emotions still buried deep within them both. Regulus could feel it—could feel the pull between them, like gravity, drawing them closer.

“Reg,” James said, his voice low now, thick with something that Regulus couldn’t place. He took a step forward, his hand hovering over Regulus’ shoulder before gently resting on it. “We’ve been through hell today. I thought… I thought I had lost you.” his voice quivered on the last word.

“I’m here James. I’m right here.” Regulus said, voice also trembling.

 His heart was beating in his chest, pounding against his ribs, and he hated the vulnerability that it brought. But the silence between them was unbearable. He wanted to talk—wanted to tell James everything he had been holding back—but not now. Not when things were still raw and fragile.

James seemed to read the hesitation in his eyes, and without another word, he closed the distance between them, lowering his head to press a soft kiss to Regulus’ forehead. The touch was light, gentle, but it felt like a promise. A quiet reassurance that, even in the wake of everything, they were still here. Still them .

Regulus closed his eyes at the contact, letting it settle over him like a balm. But it didn’t last long. When James pulled away, his lips hovered near Regulus’, and he could feel the heat radiating between them. His breath quickened, and before he could even stop himself, he was leaning forward, chasing that warmth, seeking the comfort of James’ lips.

The kiss was tentative at first, slow and careful. Neither of them wanting to break the fragile peace that had been forged between them. But that hesitance quickly melted away, replaced by something more urgent, more desperate.

Regulus’ hands found their way to James’ chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if trying to anchor himself to the present moment. James responded in kind, pulling him closer, their bodies aligning with a shared understanding. The kiss deepened, and Regulus felt his pulse quicken, a rush of heat flooding through him. His mind spun with the overwhelming need to feel more—to know that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. He wanted it all.

James groaned against his lips, the sound sending a wave of heat through Regulus’ entire body. His hands slid to Regulus’ waist, his fingers pressing into the skin beneath his clothes, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away. There was no more talk of war or betrayal. No more thoughts of the things they had yet to say to each other. There was just this—just the heat of their bodies pressed together, the frantic desperation of their kiss, the feeling of being alive .

Regulus tugged at James’ shirt, pulling it off with a hasty motion, his hands immediately trailing over the firm muscle of James’ chest. His breath hitched as he felt the warmth of James’ skin beneath his fingertips, the steady rhythm of his heart beneath his palm. It was so much. So real .

James didn’t hesitate. His hands moved to Regulus’ shirt, undoing the buttons with a practiced ease before pulling it off, leaving him bare to the cool air. Regulus’ breath caught in his throat as their gazes met, and for a moment, everything stopped. There was a fleeting hesitation between them, an understanding that what they were about to do would change things—perhaps forever—but it was a change they both wanted.

Regulus pressed his lips to James’ once more, this time with more urgency, his body responding to James’ touch in ways he couldn’t control. Their kiss deepened, their hands moving desperately, seeking more contact, more skin. There was no more room for doubts, no more space for questions. They were here, now, in this moment, and nothing else mattered.

James pulled Regulus closer, guiding him gently onto the bed. They didn’t break apart as they moved, their lips never parting for more than a breath. Regulus gasped as James’ lips trailed down his neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands found James’ back, fingers digging into the muscles there as he tried to pull him closer, to feel him, to claim him.

Everything about this was different from before. There was no anger now, no betrayal—just need, just desire, and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, they could begin to rebuild what had been broken between them.

James’ hands moved lower, his touch scorching, as he kissed Regulus harder, more desperately. And Regulus responded in kind, his own hands pulling at James’ clothes, eager to feel more, to take more of him.

The tension between them reached a boiling point, and their movements became more frantic, driven by something primal. But before things could go any further, Regulus paused, breathless, his hands stilling on James’ chest. He looked up at James, eyes wide, as if realizing something all at once. James stopped, his lips hovering just inches from Regulus’, his breath coming fast.

“What’s wrong?” James whispered, his voice strained with concern.

Regulus smiled softly, his fingers tracing James’ jawline. “Nothing,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I just... I just want to make sure we’re okay, James. That this... this isn’t just about the moment. We’ll figure everything else out, right? Together.”

James leaned in, brushing his lips gently against Regulus’ once more. “We will,” he whispered back. “I promise.”

And as their lips met again, it was clear— this was real. It wasn’t just the heat of the moment, it wasn’t just physical. This was more. This was them finding each other in the wreckage, learning to trust, learning to love.

And as they shared that kiss, their bodies finally aligning perfectly, it was clear that despite everything they had gone through, despite everything that still needed to be said and worked through, they were going to be okay.

The world outside might still be broken, but for now, they had each other.

And that was enough.

Notes:

Bye Bye Mulciber

Regulus... what's going on bud. But to be fair, we love a protective James.

Me at the end: 🫣

Chapter 17: The Briefings (Remus’ POV)

It was quiet in the penthouse when the summons came.

Remus had been sitting on the couch, a cup of cold tea forgotten in his hands, Sirius’s head in his lap as his fingers absently threaded through dark hair. The others were scattered across the suite in various states of exhaustion and adrenaline crashes after the chaos of the last few days. Even Barty had managed to fall asleep beside Evan’s tightly monitored room, for once not pacing like a feral animal.

Then Kingsley’s voice came through the emergency comm.

"Leaders meeting. Conference Room 3. Now."

Remus felt Sirius tense before the words had even finished echoing through the walls. He gave Sirius a soft pat before sliding out from under him.

"Let’s go."

 

***

 

The conference room felt sterile and grim under the white fluorescent lights—far from the war-torn chaos outside its walls, but no less dangerous. Remus took in the occupants slowly, heart rate climbing with every step toward the table.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood at the head, arms crossed, calm but alert—he always looked like he could walk into a battlefield at any moment and win.

Beside him stood Hope Lupin. Remus’s mother.

Still impossible, even after all this time. Every time he saw her it was like touching something from a dream—half-formed memories, soft lullabies, a gentle voice at bedtime, a fleeting warmth that had been ripped away too soon. And now she was here. Breathing. Leading.

Still alive, and nothing like the ghost Remus had spent years imagining.

Then the door opened.

Remus stiffened.

Poppy Pomfrey walked in, looking grimmer than he’d ever seen her—even back at Hogwarts, even during the worst fights—trailing a hover-stretcher behind her.

And on it—

"Minerva?" Remus whispered.

The Minerva McGonagall, once indomitable, now nearly unrecognizable beneath layers of blood-soaked bandages and scorch marks. Her chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. Her jaw was clenched, even unconscious, like she was still fighting the war inside her dreams.

Poppy spoke softly. “She was injured during the Dauntless raid on Amity. She’s been stable, but barely. I didn’t want her here, but she insisted before she lost consciousness. She wants to help—even if it’s just by being here. To show what they did.”

Everyone was silent.

Hope placed a gentle hand on Minerva’s arm.

“We’ll make sure her pain means something.”

The quiet reverence was broken when the doors swung open again.

And then everything inside Remus cracked open.

Albus Dumbledore entered the room first, the same calm presence Remus remembered from a hundred half-memories and old stories. His robes were simpler now, his hair shorter, but his eyes were still the same—soft and sharp all at once.

But it wasn’t him Remus focused on.

It was the man who stepped in behind him.

Lyall Lupin.

Remus didn’t move.

Couldn’t move.

His father looked… older. Not quite broken. Just worn. Tired. And angry, as always.

But Remus wasn’t watching for the wrinkles or the limp in his step.

He was watching his face.

And what he saw…

No shock.

No disbelief.

Just a flicker of annoyance—and then disgust—as Lyall Lupin’s eyes landed on Hope.

And with that one expression, everything inside Remus shattered.

It was confirmation.

He had hoped—desperately, stupidly hoped—that maybe his father hadn’t known. That maybe Lyall, for all his cruelty, had believed she was truly dead, too. That the blame, the punishment, the twisted stories of abandonment were all rooted in ignorance, not malice.

But no.

He knew .
He had always known.

Remus felt something white-hot ignite in his chest. Not the slow-burning, smoldering anger that he had carried like a shadow for years—but a wildfire, pure and violent.

His breath hitched. His hands curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. He stood too fast, the chair screeching backward across the floor, the sound sharp and jarring.

The world tilted. His vision narrowed.

Sirius was on his feet instantly, moving with practiced ease—like he'd been waiting for this. Like he'd known it would come eventually.

He reached out, hand finding the small of Remus’s back, grounding him with gentle but unwavering pressure.

“I—” Remus started, his voice cracking. “I just—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t put words to the storm tearing through him. Rage, betrayal, grief—it all surged at once, choking him.

“You’re okay,” Sirius whispered. “I’ve got you.”

And maybe that was the only thing keeping Remus from exploding. From launching across the room. From screaming. From breaking.

He let Sirius guide him back down into his seat, his entire body trembling with restrained fury.

He didn’t feel okay.

He felt like a bomb with the pin pulled.

But Sirius was there—solid, steady, warm—and that was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

 

***

 

Kingsley cleared his throat. “Let’s begin.”

And somehow the meeting began.

Remus listened as they detailed the new reports. Riddle—still hiding in the depths of Erudite headquarters—wasn’t done.

Far from it.

“They’ve started using a refined serum,” Hope said, flipping through documents. “It spreads faster, adapts quicker, and it targets the parts of the brain we thought were resistant. Even Divergents are getting pulled in now.”

“No one’s safe,” Kingsley added. “This isn’t just about factions anymore. This is about whether free will survives at all.”

“We have been able to start experimenting on their last version of the serum thanks to your friend.” Hope added, gesturing to their group.

Remus turned to look at Barty. He had been very distant from the group since Evan was infected with the serum. He has spent most of his days in the hospital room with Evan. In the few moments when Evan was lucid and not under control of the serum, he gave his permission for the doctors in Candor to try to find a cure for the serum. Something Remus knows everyone was extremely grateful for.

“We’ve already lost too much ground,” Poppy said, cutting off Remus’ train of thought. “Erudite’s machines run twenty-four-seven. Dauntless soldiers have been reprogrammed like puppets. The only reason Candor hasn’t fallen is because we have James and Regulus’s group—and reinforcements from Hope’s factionless network.”

Lyall scoffed. “So now we’re taking orders from ghosts and gutter rats?”

Sirius’s voice was a growl. “Say that again.”

Kingsley raised a hand before things escalated.

“Enough.”

But Remus was staring at his father now, jaw tight.

“You knew she was alive,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “You let me think I killed her.”

Lyall’s lip curled. “She chose to leave. I gave you a roof and a name. You should be grateful.”

Remus laughed bitterly. “Grateful? For the beatings? The lies? For destroying everything good in me before I was old enough to fight back?”

“Remus,” Hope said gently.

But Remus shook his head.

“No. He deserves to hear it. I spent my whole childhood hating myself. Believing I was broken. That I’d lost the only person who ever loved me because I was… because I wasn’t enough. Because I was a freak. And all this time—you let me carry that. You watched me fall apart, and you did nothing.”

Lyall didn’t respond.

Coward, Remus thought. Nothing had changed.

***

 

After the meeting broke, no one really talked.

People scattered. Planning teams broke off to strategize the next moves. Some went to the infirmary. Others to the command center.

Remus found himself back in the penthouse with Sirius.

They didn’t speak for a long time.

Just sat together on the bed, foreheads touching, breathing the same air.

Eventually, Remus spoke.

“Did you ever think you’d be more of a home to someone than their own parents?”

Sirius gave a dry chuckle. “You’re talking to someone who ran away from his parents and never looked back.”

“Still,” Remus murmured. “I keep thinking… I wouldn’t be standing right now if it wasn’t for you.”

Sirius tilted his head, brushing his lips against Remus’s knuckles. “You’ve got your own strength too, love. But yeah. Same here.”

They stayed like that for a while, tangled in each other, grief and rage and love wound tightly between them.

 

***

 

The next morning, the emergency briefings started again.

The simulations were spreading through Erudite faster than expected.

Even those flagged as Divergent were beginning to falter—caught mid-sentence, collapsing, waking with blank eyes and foreign orders.

“They’re not just controlling minds,” Poppy said grimly. “They’re rewriting them.”

“They’re turning people into code,” Regulus added. “Into tools.”

James stood beside him, one arm slung across his shoulder. The two looked closer than they had in weeks, their bruises still healing, but the air between them had softened. There was love there again. A fragile, hard-won peace.

They would need that.

Because Candor wasn’t safe anymore.

Hope stood in front of the war table, eyes narrowed as she moved pieces across the map.

“We need allies,” she said. “Now. Factionless, fringe groups, exiles, anyone who can hold a gun and isn’t under simulation control. We take the fight to them, or they’ll come for us first.”

“We’ll leave tonight,” Kingsley confirmed. “Gather support. Plant resistance cells.”

Remus nodded.

They were running out of time.

But they weren’t alone.

Not anymore.

And this time, he wasn’t afraid of the fight ahead.

He was ready.

Notes:

Minnie is back!!

Lyall leaveeeee

Chapter 18: Seeking Allies

It had been one week since the trial, and it all felt too quiet.

Regulus stood by the penthouse window, the city of Candor spread beneath him in its stark, geometric silence. His reflection hovered faintly in the glass, pale and tired, the bruises on his neck still visible like fingerprints. Behind him, the others were packing. Whispering. Moving with the kind of caution that came only after bloodshed.

Mulciber was dead. That should’ve been a relief.

And yet...

“Are you ready?” James asked, stepping up beside him.

Regulus startled. He hadn’t heard James approach. “As I’ll ever be,” he murmured.

James nudged his shoulder against Regulus’s gently. “We’ll be fine. We have each other.”

It wasn’t a grand declaration. Just quiet certainty. But it helped.

They left the penthouse together.

 

***

 

Regulus had barely caught his breath from the last meeting when Poppy Pomfrey burst into the room, her eyes alight with something between exhaustion and triumph. “I’ve found a way,” she said, holding up a small vial of faintly glowing serum. Evan sat on the edge of the cot beside her, blinking slowly as if waking from a long, suffocating dream.

It wasn’t a permanent cure—not yet—but it was enough to pull Evan out of the haze of Riddle’s control. Poppy explained quickly: a compound that disrupted the signal pattern in the serum, like jamming a radio frequency. Regulus watched Evan stand—wobbling for only a moment—before determination set in his features.

“I’m going with you all,” Evan said, turning to him.

Barty practically jumped into Evans arms, whooping with joy.

Regulus looked at the two and frowned. “But you just got free?”

“And now I can finally fight ,” Evan replied, his voice steady. “For you. For all of us.”

There was no room for argument. Regulus felt something swell in his chest—not pride, exactly. Relief, maybe. Gratitude. Whatever it was, it burned warm as Evan grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, already asking where they were needed most.

The resistance had just gotten one of its sharpest blades back.

 

***

 

Kingsley had gathered them all in the Candor atrium. The skylights spilled harsh light over the survivors.

“We’re going back to Dauntless,” he said, his voice firm.

There were murmurs of surprise, even protest.

Kingsley raised a hand. “Without Mulciber to rally them, the Dauntless faction has splintered. We believe now is the time to return—secure the compound, rally those still loyal to Minerva, and make it a stronghold again. Candor is no longer safe.”

Poppy frowned. “It’s still dangerous. There could be hidden loyalists, traps left behind.”

“And I still have a job to finish,” came Minerva’s voice, hoarse but steady.

Everyone turned.

Minerva stood on shaking legs, supported by a cane, her frame thinner than Regulus remembered. Her face was bandaged on one side, a long burn curling up her cheek toward her temple. Poppy tried to gently nudge her back down, but Minerva stood firm.

“I’m the leader of Dauntless,” she said. “I will not sit back and play invalid while my people are scattered and leaderless.”

Poppy looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t.

Regulus exchanged a glance with James. It was happening. They were going home.

 

***

 

The train felt unfamiliar now.

Regulus sat by the window, knees tucked up, watching the world blur past in streaks of gray and rust. His chest felt tight. Dauntless HQ was their territory—and yet the idea of returning filled him with dread. Ghosts waited in those hallways. Old betrayals. Blood.

The others filled the train car, murmuring among themselves. Barty was sprawled out with his head tipped against the glass, his eyes fixed somewhere far away. Evan sat stiff beside him, not speaking. Lily and Pandora whispered near the back. Minerva was curled in a corner, Poppy tending to her bandages with a soft hum of concern.

James slipped into the seat beside Regulus and leaned back with a sigh. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you think yourself into a pit of existential despair.”

Regulus shot him a sideways look. “I’m not despairing.”

James gave him a knowing smirk. “You’re brooding. It’s your default setting.”

Regulus opened his mouth to argue—but James slid a warm hand over his own, threading their fingers together beneath the privacy of the train seat. The tension in Regulus’s chest eased, just slightly.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, hand in hand.

 

***

 

The compound hadn’t changed.

Not in structure, at least.

The black, brutal stone of Dauntless HQ loomed over them as they stepped off the train. The arching tunnels that led into the depths of the Pit stretched like open mouths, still etched with graffiti, scorched from old skirmishes and bombs. Yet it felt… different now. Hollowed out.

Dead men’s shadows clung to the walls, and Regulus felt every one of them as if they’d been branded into the stone.

He hadn’t realized how loud silence could be until they stood in it.

Dauntless was never quiet. There had always been footsteps—stomping, sprinting, charging. The hiss of train brakes. Someone shouting down the corridor. A sparring match in full swing. Laughter. Arguments. Energy. Heat.

Now it was like walking into a tomb.

Minerva inhaled sharply behind him as her cane tapped along the floor, each step measured, purposeful.

Poppy was close at her side, watching her like a hawk. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us,” she murmured. “We should move carefully.”

James turned slightly, catching Regulus’s eye. “Let’s sweep the dorms.”

Regulus nodded, his chest already tight. The compound didn’t just look like a tomb—it smelled like one. Dust, dried blood, old sweat. History.

The team split up quickly. Sirius, Remus, Barty, and Evan veered toward the training grounds. Lily and Pandora headed toward the common rooms to look for stragglers. Regulus followed James down the corridors leading to the sleeping quarters, his footsteps almost too loud in the stillness.

As they passed the hallway that led to the tattoo parlor, Regulus flinched.

He remembered getting inked there. A dare. Evan had chosen something ridiculous, and Barty had laughed so hard he nearly fell off the stool. He remembered James watching, arms crossed, eyes dark with something unreadable. And he remembered thinking, in that moment, how strange it was that something so loud and chaotic could still feel safe.

That safety was long gone.

“What if there’s no one left?” Regulus asked as they reached the door to the mess hall.

James shook his head. “There’ll be someone.”

But his voice lacked conviction.

They pushed the doors open, and the room that had once been a mess of food fights and challenges was eerily clean. No bodies. No blood. But it was the absence of signs that felt even worse. Someone had tried to erase the battle. Clean it up. Like pretending it hadn’t happened would change the outcome.

James exhaled slowly, his shoulders sinking. “It’s like they scrubbed it all away.”

“Or buried it,” Regulus said under his breath.

They moved faster after that.

And eventually—they found them.

The first group was huddled in the weapons vault.

About ten of them, ragged and sleep-deprived, armed to the teeth but clearly startled when the doors slammed open. James raised his hands in peace, and Regulus stepped forward to show his faction mark.

“Minerva McGonagall is alive,” Regulus announced. “She’s here.”

A young woman with a long braid and wary eyes lowered her rifle slightly. “Prove it.”

“She’s at the Pit,” James said. “We’re calling a gathering. If you still believe in what Dauntless used to stand for—then come.”

There was a beat of silence, and then a slow nod.

“We’ll be there.”

That gave them hope. Not much. But enough to keep going.

Room by room, hallway by hallway, they pulled people out from hiding—old initiates, older fighters, even a few trainers Regulus had known by name. Some resisted. Some were too frightened to believe. But the name “Minerva McGonagall” still held weight in this compound.

By the time they reconvened at the Pit, a crowd had formed.

Fifty. Maybe sixty. All Dauntless. All uncertain.

Regulus stood beside James on the ledge overlooking the Pit. The familiar rock formations and the gaping drop below gave him chills. How many times had he nearly died in that pit? Jumping. Fighting. Proving himself.

Now they stood over it again—this time not to prove their worth, but to save what little was left of it.

Minerva stepped forward.

The hush was immediate.

She didn’t shout. She didn’t need to.

“I am Dauntless,” she said. “I have bled with you. Fought beside you. Buried our own.”

Some heads lowered.

“I stood silent as Mulciber took control. I watched Riddle’s rot seep into our walls. And when I finally stood up to him, he tried to kill me.”

A few gasps. Some disbelief.

Minerva raised her head higher. “They left me for dead.”

Regulus watched as she scanned the crowd, pausing on familiar faces. People she’d trained. Led. Trusted.

“I’m not here to make empty promises. I’m not here to beg. I’m here because there is still something worth fighting for.”

Someone in the back called out. “And what do you want us to do? Go running to the other factions for help?”

Minerva straightened, fire in her voice. “No. I want you to remember who the hell you are. You are Dauntless. And that doesn’t mean following orders like sheep—it means standing for courage . For freedom . For choice .”

Regulus felt the crowd shift.

Then Lily stepped forward, her voice clear.

“None of us can win this alone. Candor, Amity, Factionless—we’re trying to build something new. Something stronger. But we can’t do it without you.”

“And why should we trust you?” someone else asked.

Pandora raised her chin. “Because we’re still here. And so are you. We’ve survived everything Riddle’s thrown at us. And we’re still standing.”

A murmur of agreement spread.

A tall boy near the front crossed his arms. “You expect us to fight? After what we’ve seen?”

Regulus stepped forward.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

“I was there when Mulciber fell,” he said. “I saw what Riddle did to our people. I saw friends turned into weapons. And I am still standing. Not because I want to fight—but because I have to. If we don’t, we lose everything.”

The boy stared at him.

Then nodded.

One by one, others did the same.

It wasn’t all of them. Not yet. But the tide was turning.

Minerva took a deep breath. “Then we begin again. Together.”

 

***

 

The halls were quieter than Regulus remembered.

Not silent—the hum of lights still buzzed overhead, and there was the distant clang of someone dragging something across the stone flooring—but quieter. Muted. Like the compound was holding its breath.

Their boots echoed with each step as they made their way back to James’s old quarters. They didn’t talk, not after everything that happened that day. After the confrontation, after the reluctant unity, after the dust had started to settle. Words felt like they might break whatever fragile thing they were holding between them.

James opened the door to his old room with a quiet creak.

Regulus followed him in and paused just inside the doorway.

The room was unchanged.

Not in the way the rest of Dauntless had been stripped of personality or memory—but in a way that was almost too familiar. James hadn’t stayed here in weeks, maybe longer, and yet everything still smelled like him. The bed was a little messy but untouched. A leather jacket hung from the corner of a chair. There were scuffed boots kicked half-under the bed. A book—one Regulus remembered James swearing he’d never read—was sitting spine-up on the desk. A photo frame faced the wall.

It was home.

And not just James’s. It was James. And now, they were both standing in it like ghosts.

James walked in without a word and started kicking off his shoes. Regulus leaned against the wall for a moment, just… watching him. Taking in the tension in his shoulders, the quiet exhaustion in the way he moved.

They had done what they came to do. For now, at least.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, they were alone.

Regulus started to undress quietly. He peeled off the heavier layers first—his jacket, his boots—and let out a long sigh as he reached for the cotton sleep shirt he kept with him. The room was still warm from the day’s sun, and the quiet was starting to feel safe instead of suffocating.

But then—

A quiet, stuttering sound broke the silence.

It was barely more than a breath, but something about it twisted in Regulus’s chest. He paused mid-motion, shirt half-pulled over his head, and turned slowly toward the sound.

James wasn’t on the bed.

He was on the floor, sitting with his back against the dresser, shoulders hunched. His head was bowed, fingers curled tightly around a photo in his hands. His breath caught again—a choked sob he didn’t seem able to contain.

Regulus’s heart sank.

He stepped forward carefully, the shirt forgotten in his hands.

“James?” he asked softly, kneeling down beside him.

James didn’t look up. His grip tightened on the photo.

Regulus’s eyes flicked down, and the breath left his lungs.

It was a picture. A simple one. Just James—maybe eleven or twelve, standing between his parents. Euphemia’s smile was soft and radiant, her hand on James’s shoulder. Fleamont looked proud. James looked so damn happy.

Regulus froze.

Oh.

Oh, shit .

He hadn’t even thought about what this place would mean to James. Hadn’t considered the weight of returning to the place where he’d grown up, where his parents had lived and laughed and hugged him. Where they’d last been alive. Regulus had been so focused on rallying Dauntless, so caught in his own anxiety about being back here, that he hadn’t spared a single thought for the boy beside him.

And James—James who had held his hand on the train, who had known he was spiraling and had helped him breathe again—

Regulus felt the guilt hit like a punch to the ribs.

Without a word, he sat down next to James and leaned into him slightly, close but not crowding. His eyes didn’t leave the photo.

“I didn’t think,” Regulus whispered. “I’m sorry.”

James still didn’t speak.

Regulus reached out and gently took his hand, lifting it toward his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of James’s knuckles—slow, lingering. James flinched, just barely, and then let out a tiny breath.

He turned, pressing his face into Regulus’s shoulder.

And then he broke.

The sound of his crying was quiet—muffled, restrained—but that almost made it worse. Regulus could feel the tension in his body, the way his fingers dug into Regulus’s arm as he tried to stay quiet, like he didn’t want to be a burden.

“You don’t have to hide it,” Regulus murmured. “Not from me.”

James let out a shaky breath against his collarbone.

Regulus wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, letting James collapse fully into his chest. He ran one hand through James’s hair slowly, over and over again, the same way James had done for him a hundred times before.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t need to.

Time passed like that—quiet, still, raw.

Eventually, the sobs quieted. James’s breathing evened out, though his face was still pressed into Regulus’s neck, his arms wrapped tight around his waist.

“I miss them,” he finally whispered.

“I know,” Regulus said softly, kissing the top of his head. “I know you do.”

“I thought it would hurt less by now.”

“It doesn’t,” Regulus said truthfully. “It just… shifts.”

James let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “God, I’m such a mess.”

Regulus tilted his head to look at him. “You’re grieving. That’s not a mess, James. That’s human.”

They sat like that for a while longer, until the stiffness of the floor became too much.

Regulus stood and gently tugged James up with him. He guided them to the bed, peeled back the covers, and motioned for James to climb in. James hesitated for half a second before following, still holding the photo. He set it gently on the nightstand, almost reverently, before curling up on the mattress.

Regulus climbed in after him.

The room was dim now, the light from the hallway casting a golden hue on the ceiling. Their breathing had finally synced up, soft and slow.

Regulus reached out and tucked James into his chest, one hand splayed between his shoulder blades.

“You’re allowed to fall apart sometimes,” Regulus whispered. “I’ll still be here.”

James didn’t say anything, but his fingers curled into Regulus’s shirt like he never wanted to let go.

After a long silence, Regulus pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You were so good to me today,” he said quietly. “On the train. I was panicking, and you were there. I should’ve been there for you too.”

“You’re here now,” James murmured.

Regulus gave him a soft smile. “Still. I want you to know—I see you. Not just the fighter. Not just the leader. You. ”

James looked up at him, eyes glassy but steadier now.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Regulus’s throat tightened. “I love you too.”

They were quiet for a few seconds more, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Then, gently, Regulus tried to lighten the air.

“I’d bet anything Remus and Sirius are currently capitalizing on the privacy,” he said with a smirk.

James let out a small, real laugh. “God, probably.”

They both chuckled.

James shifted to press his face into Regulus’s neck again, but this time it wasn’t in pain—it was comfort.

“I like you on top of the bed, by the way,” he said quietly. “Much better than under it.”

Regulus rolled his eyes fondly. “You say that like I had a choice the first time.”

James snorted. “I really thought Sirius was going to see you under there.”

“I was just hoping I wouldn’t sneeze and give myself away.”

“I would have protected you.”

“Whatever. You were just as scared as I was of Sirius finding out”

James kissed the corner of his jaw, laughing into his skin. “Absolutely terrified.”

“And yet,” Regulus murmured, “you loved me anyway.”

“God help me,” James whispered.

They laughed again—soft and low and real.

Eventually, their giggles faded into a peaceful silence.

James shifted until they were tucked perfectly against one another, chest to chest, legs tangled. Regulus ran his fingers gently up and down James’s back, tracing lines into his skin, grounding them both.

And for the first time in weeks, they slept without fear.

No nightmares. No alarms. No screams in the night.

Just warmth.

Just them.

Just peace.

At least for tonight.

Notes:

Yayyy Evan is back in action!

Aww James comforting Reg is everything 🩷

Aww Jamie 💔

Chapter 19: The Factionless "Debate" (Remus' POV)

There was something about the walls in Dauntless—how the sound carried, how it echoed around corners and down the iron stairwells. How it made even a whisper feel like it was being shouted into a void.

So when Sirius slammed his hand down on the table and growled, “We can’t trust the Factionless,” the echo of it rebounded hard enough that Remus swore his ears rang.

They’d all gathered in the war room just off the Pit. The circular table in the center was littered with maps, simulation schematics, and fragments of crumpled paper. It was supposed to be a strategy meeting. A calm, structured discussion.

It was not that.

“They’re unorganized,” Sirius snapped. “Reckless. Half of them don’t even have combat training. You want to throw in with them and just hope they won’t get us killed?”

“They’ve survived without training for years,” Lily retorted from across the table, arms crossed. “They know how to move without being seen, how to live off the grid. That’s exactly the kind of advantage we need right now.”

Pandora nodded in agreement. “She’s right. If anyone can sneak behind Riddle’s lines, it’s them.”

Remus sat stiffly in his chair, hands curled into his sleeves beneath the table. His jaw ached from clenching it.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or bolt from the room.

“They’re not stable,” Sirius was saying. “Half of them don’t follow any kind of leadership structure, and the other half are ruled by Hope Lupin, which—no offense—seems like a disaster waiting to happen.”

Remus’s throat closed.

He hadn’t spoken since the meeting started.

He didn’t want to. Not about this. Not about her.

Hope Lupin.

His mother.

Leader of the Factionless. Survivor. Liar.

The silence between Sirius and Lily stretched tight, each daring the other to be the first to back down. Pandora looked like she wanted to say something again, but her mouth tightened. Instead, she gently rested a hand on Lily’s arm.

“I don’t think we can afford to shut them out,” Pandora said, softer this time. “They may not follow our rules, but they’re not our enemy.”

“Not yet,” Sirius muttered. “Doesn’t mean they won’t be.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Lily snapped. “They’ve been taking in our survivors. Your brother is alive because Hope brought the Factionless to Candor.”

“She brought her people, sure,” Sirius said, voice clipped. “But let’s not pretend she did it out of kindness. It was strategy. Political theater. And I don’t trust anyone who’s had that long to practice playing a role.”

“Oh, right,” Lily scoffed. “Because you have such a flawless moral compass. You didn’t even want to save the Candor civilians last week until Regulus guilted you into it.”

“Excuse me? ”

The air snapped taut again.

Remus closed his eyes.

Here we go.

“I was ready to go out there and fight,” Sirius growled. “But we were outnumbered, and I said we needed a plan. That’s called tactics, Lily.”

“It’s called hesitation,” Lily shot back. “Which gets people killed.”

“Alright, alright,” Barty said suddenly, leaning against the wall nearby. “This is getting juicy. ”

Remus blinked. He hadn’t noticed Barty and Evan had entered the room. Evan was smirking beside him, arms folded, while Barty popped something into his mouth with exaggerated flair.

“Anyone bring popcorn?” Barty asked. “I feel like we need snacks for this show.”

Evan grinned. “Five pounds says Lily decks Sirius before James shows up.”

“Oh, come on ,” Sirius growled. “I’m not going to punch her.”

“You’d lose,” Pandora muttered.

Lily’s eyebrows lifted. “Try me.”

“Enough! ” James’s voice thundered from the doorway.

Everyone turned. James strode into the room, expression stormy, eyes locking immediately onto Lily and Sirius like a headmaster catching his two top troublemakers mid-duel.

“I leave for ten minutes to talk with Minerva, and you lot are staging Gladiator in here,” he snapped.

“We’re having a disagreement,” Lily said stiffly.

“You’re screaming,” James said flatly. “Remus. Get your man.”

Remus blinked. “What?”

James didn’t even look at him. “Sirius is two seconds from throwing a chair. You’re the only one he listens to.”

Sirius gave an indignant noise. “I do not throw chairs.”

“You flipped a table last month,” Pandora reminded him.

“That was different.”

“Why was it different?”

“It was a tactical flip.”

“Oh my God,” James muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Remus finally stood and crossed the room slowly. He reached Sirius and placed a hand lightly on his back, just between the shoulder blades. “Breathe.”

Sirius exhaled through his nose, still glaring daggers at Lily.

“I’m fine,” he said, which was Sirius-language for I’m deeply not fine but I don’t want to talk about it.

Remus didn’t press. Just stayed close.

Across the room, Pandora was doing the same with Lily—soft voice, grounding hand, quiet nods. It worked. Slowly, Lily’s arms relaxed, and her eyes lost the sharp edge.

James stepped forward and placed his hands on the table.

“Look,” he said, “I know this is hard. I know we’re all tense and tired and not entirely sure who we can trust. But we have to come to a decision.”

He looked around the room, catching each of their gazes.

“We have no reinforcements left. The Dauntless who stayed with us are stretched thin. Erudite is closed to us. Candor’s compromised. And we can’t go to Amity again. If we’re going to take Riddle down, we need people. Desperately. ”

Lily spoke first, voice calmer now. “The Factionless are the only group large enough to help us tip the balance. Hope has outposts spread across the city—places even Erudite tech can’t trace. She’s organized. And she wants Riddle gone as much as we do.”

“She’s not trustworthy,” Sirius insisted, though his voice was softer now. “They answer to no one. If we give them weapons, resources—what if they turn on us once Riddle’s gone?”

Remus hadn’t said a word. Not since this whole conversation began.

He felt all eyes flick to him now.

He didn’t look up.

“Well?” James asked, gentler this time. “Remus?”

He swallowed. “I don’t trust them either.”

“Because of Hope?” Pandora asked quietly.

Remus stiffened.

He didn’t answer.

Because yes. Of course it was because of her. Because she was a lie that lived in his blood. Because she’d let him believe she was dead. Because she left him with him —with Lyall—and never came back.

Because now that he knew she’d been alive this whole time, there was a voice in his head that whispered: She didn’t want you. She chose to stay away.

“I think,” Remus said, carefully, “that I can’t make this decision without bias.”

It was more honest than he meant to be.

There was a long pause.

Then James nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“We don’t have to decide right now,” Pandora said. “But we need a plan. Something we can all live with.”

“I’m not living with Riddle in charge,” Sirius muttered.

“Then we find a way forward,” James said. “Together.”

The silence that followed wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t hostile either.

It was thoughtful.

Hesitant.

Hopeful.

Barty clapped his hands. “Well, if the tension’s off for the moment, anyone want to guess how many bottles of wine Remus will need to survive dinner with both his parents present?”

“Don’t,” Remus muttered.

“Too soon?” Evan offered.

“I hate all of you.”

Sirius reached for his hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.

“You’ve got us,” he said quietly.

And for the first time in a long while, Remus let himself believe it.

Notes:

Hah Sirius definitely met his match with Lily. That girl won't back down.

Also "tactical flip" Sirius?? 😂

Chapter 20: Decisions

The war room felt colder than it had hours before.

No one spoke at first, not after the news came in—just a single scout breathless from running, eyes wide with fear, his voice shaking as he delivered the message.

“Riddle’s moving on Dauntless. Full force. Endgame.”

Regulus stared at the table as the words echoed. His fingers clenched into the edge of the map they’d been sketching plans on, knuckles whitening.

This was it.

Not a test. Not a scare tactic. Not some trial run of one of Riddle’s simulations or Mulciber’s guerrilla squads.

This was a strike —a mass extermination.

Now that Mulciber was dead, Riddle was cutting his losses.

He wanted Dauntless gone. Erased. Taken off the board.

And Regulus could feel the room shift—like gravity itself tilted sideways. A collective breath inhaled and held, as though even the walls needed time to process what this meant.

Minerva was the first to speak.

“We don’t have time to sit on this,” she said, hoarse from pain, but fierce as ever. She’d refused to stay in bed even though her leg was still wrapped and stiff, her shoulder swollen from the last battle. “If Riddle wipes out Dauntless, the rest of us won’t be far behind.”

“We need a plan,” James said, his voice calm but razor-edged. “Now.”

Sirius nodded. “We hit first.”

Remus crossed his arms. “We’re not strong enough yet to take the offensive. Not without more numbers.”

“We need the Factionless,” Lily said firmly.

The silence that followed was not quite surprised anymore—just grim.

Regulus looked to Remus.

For a moment, he thought Remus would push back again, the way he had last time. His jaw was set tight, lips thinned into a frown, and his eyes burned like he was holding back a storm.

But then he exhaled slowly. “We should bring them in.”

Everyone turned to look at him.

Remus lifted his head and said, “I don’t trust them. I don’t forgive them. But if we wait, we’re dead.”

James offered a solemn nod. “Then we move.”

 

***

 

The following hours blurred into motion.

Meetings were scheduled. Messages were sent. Scouts were deployed. Minerva worked with Kingsley and Pandora to begin the delicate process of drafting an alliance contract with Hope Lupin’s factionless leaders. The room buzzed with frantic energy—half adrenaline, half exhaustion.

Regulus stayed beside James through most of it, quietly taking in the chaos.

James was a natural—steady, grounded, somehow managing to keep Sirius and Lily from killing each other while also coordinating militia routes and evacuation protocols.

It made Regulus ache in a way he didn’t expect. There was something about watching James in his element like this—kind, commanding, heart-forward and sharp-minded. He made people want to follow him.

He made Regulus want to follow him.

“Reg,” James said, nudging his shoulder softly. “Hey. You alright?”

Regulus blinked. He hadn’t even realized he’d been staring. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

James glanced over his shoulder at the war table and the half-finished plans sprawled across it. “About?”

Regulus hesitated. “Everything. How close we are to… the end.”

James didn’t look away from him. “You scared?”

Regulus opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Was he?

He should be.

But somewhere beneath the fear was something else—something sharper. Purpose. Fury. Love.

“No,” Regulus said finally. “I’m ready.”

James’s smile was small but real. “Good.”

 

***

 

That night, the halls of Dauntless were unusually quiet. No sparring. No shouting. No footsteps echoing through the corridors like they usually did. Just the low hum of tension in the air, a city holding its breath before the storm.

James’s room was warm, dimly lit, a little too quiet.

Regulus stood near the bed, watching James kick off his boots, his shoulders stiff with the weight of the day. Every step they'd taken, every plan they'd laid out—none of it guaranteed safety. None of it could promise they'd all survive what came next.

Still, there was something grounding about being here. Together. Whole, for now.

James sat down at the edge of the bed, his hands braced on either side of him. “Come here,” he said quietly.

Regulus crossed the room without hesitation. He slipped between James’s knees, letting their foreheads press together, eyes falling shut as their breaths synced. One of James’s hands found the back of Regulus’s neck, fingers tracing along the curve of his spine.

“I used to think we had time,” James murmured.

Regulus pulled back just enough to look at him. “Time for what?”

“For this. For us. For something that wasn’t broken, or rushed, or always one breath away from disaster.”

Regulus's heart tightened. “We still have time.”

James's gaze searched his, slow and steady. “Do we?”

Regulus didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, he leaned in and kissed him.

It started slow, soft, but it didn’t stay that way. James kissed like he was starving for it, like he needed Regulus to be real, right here, right now. Their hands moved with purpose—familiar now, practiced, reverent.

Clothes were loosened. Then shrugged off.

They fell into the bed like gravity had pulled them under, and there was no resistance. No awkwardness. No fear.

Just hands, and mouths, and whispered names between breaths.

“I love you,” Regulus said into the hollow of James’s throat, quiet and sure, like it had always been true.

James’s hands curled at his hips. “I know.”

The world outside didn’t matter.

Not the war.

Not the strategy maps.

Not even tomorrow.

Here, in this bed, was something sacred. Something safe.

And when James kissed him again—desperate, gentle, real—Regulus let himself fall.

 

***

 

Later, tangled in the sheets and tangled in each other, the sweat cooling on their skin and the war temporarily forgotten, Regulus whispered, “We’re going to be okay.”

His voice was quiet, raw with hope he wasn’t quite brave enough to fully claim.

James shifted just enough to wrap both arms around him, like he could keep that hope alive just by holding on tight enough. His fingers traced slow, grounding lines down the ridges of Regulus’s spine.

“You sure?” he asked, lips brushing his temple.

Regulus exhaled. “No,” he admitted. “But I want to believe it. And if I have to believe in something… it’s going to be you.”

James’s breath caught, a laugh and a sound dangerously close to a sob caught somewhere in his chest. “Good answer,” he murmured, voice low and almost reverent.

They lay there in the quiet that followed, legs tangled, skin still warm, breath still synced. The silence was soft and honest. Like a promise.

Regulus eventually let his fingers wander across James’s chest in slow, aimless motions, the kind of touch that asked nothing except to stay.

Then, quietly, “You snore, by the way.”

James stiffened beneath him. “I do not.”

Regulus tilted his head to smirk up at him. “You do. It’s not loud—it’s sort of… endearing. Like a sleepy bear.”

“A sleepy bear? ” James said, scandalized.

Regulus gave a faux sympathetic nod. “I almost woke you up to shove a pillow over your face, but I thought it might come across as a bit hostile for post-sex cuddling.”

“You’re lucky I’m in love with you,” James muttered, tugging the blanket higher with great dramatic flair. “Anyone else would’ve taken that as a declaration of war.”

Regulus chuckled, pressing a kiss just under James’s jaw. “You wouldn’t win. I fight dirty.”

James looked down at him, grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, I know. Trust me—I’ve got the scratches to prove it.”

Regulus smirked, unrepentant. “Consider them battle scars.”

They both laughed, the kind of tired, genuine laughter that comes only after surviving something that was supposed to break you. It echoed softly through the dim room, as intimate as any kiss.

Eventually, they quieted. James’s fingers found Regulus’s hair again, carding through it slowly, like he never wanted to stop. Regulus curled closer, resting his head over James’s heart.

They didn’t speak again.

Not because there was nothing to say—but because, for now, everything that mattered was being said in the quiet.

And for the first time in too long, they slept without fear.

Together.

Notes:

We love an official alliance.

Jegulus 🩷

Chapter 21: The Alliance

The heavy wooden doors of the meeting hall creaked shut behind Regulus as he stepped into the room. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the ancient stone walls. The air was thick with the weight of what was about to unfold. This wasn’t just another strategy session; this was the moment they would forge an alliance that could either save them or break them all.

Leaders from every faction gathered around a massive oak table, their faces etched with exhaustion but also determination. Kingsley stood at the head of the table, flanked by Minerva, Poppy, Dumbledore, and Hope. The familiar faces of the people who had fought alongside him, trusted him, and risked everything for the greater good.

Regulus took a deep breath and moved toward an empty seat next to James, who was already sitting with a tense posture, his fingers tapping against the surface of the table. He nodded when he saw Regulus, but there was little time for pleasantries. Everyone had too much on their minds.

Minerva was seated at the table despite her injuries. Her wounds from the last battle were still healing, but there was no mistaking the fire in her eyes as she looked around the room. She was a fierce leader, and her resolve was unwavering.

"Let's begin," Kingsley said, his voice commanding and steady. His gaze swept over the room, ensuring that everyone was ready for the conversation that would determine their next steps. "The time for talk is over. We all know what we're up against. Riddle and his Erudite faction are growing stronger every day. We must unite if we stand a chance."

There was a murmur of agreement around the room, the weight of those words sinking in. Regulus felt a tightening in his chest. He didn’t want to admit it, but they were right. If they didn’t act now, they might lose everything.

Dumbledore’s calm voice broke the silence next. "We are all here for the same reason. We cannot allow Riddle’s tyranny to continue. We must fight back with everything we have. The only question left is whether we are willing to truly join forces and commit to this cause, no matter the cost."

The tension in the room was palpable. Every leader knew what was at stake. This wasn’t just a battle for power or land. This was a fight for the future of their world.

Hope Lupin, who had spent years working from the shadows, finally spoke up. "There is no turning back now. We can’t afford to keep waiting for someone else to act. Riddle’s forces are more dangerous than ever, and the time to stand united is now. The Factionless are ready to help, but we need to know that you are all committed."

There was a brief silence as everyone considered her words. Regulus could see the weight of the decision in their eyes. It was one thing to speak about unity, but to truly commit to it was another.

Pandora and Lily stood together, their faces determined. "We’ve all suffered. Each of us has lost something precious," Pandora began, her voice unwavering. "But this isn’t about what we’ve lost. It’s about what we still have—the chance to fight for a future where Riddle’s rule doesn’t dominate us all."

Lily picked up where Pandora left off. "It’s about the people who believe in what we’re fighting for. Unity is our strength. We cannot defeat Erudite and Dauntless alone. We need every faction to join forces. If we want to win, we need to work together—no more division."

Her words rang out in the silence that followed, and for a moment, Regulus thought he could hear the echoes of the past—of their families, their lives before the war had taken everything from them. They had been divided, torn apart by alliances and ideologies, but now, perhaps, there was hope for something different.

"We stand together, or we fall alone," Pandora said, her gaze sweeping across the room. "Now is the time to make that choice."

The room was silent for a moment, and then Barty’s voice broke through, lighthearted but with an edge of sincerity. "Well, I think we all agree that falling alone doesn’t sound like much fun."

Evan chuckled beside him, adding, "Yeah, I’ve got a whole list of people I’d rather not fall with."

It was an odd thing, Regulus thought—how even in the darkest of times, Barty and Evan could still find humor. Perhaps it was what kept them all going, even when the world seemed to be crumbling.

Hope smiled faintly, her stern demeanor softening for a brief moment. "That’s the spirit. We need that lightness, even in the midst of all this."

Minerva cleared her throat, and all eyes turned to her. Despite her injuries, she exuded a quiet strength. "I agree with all that’s been said. Dauntless will stand with you—whether you’re from Candor, Amity, or the Factionless. I may not be at full strength, but I will fight alongside you until my last breath."

Her words stirred something inside Regulus. It was hard to imagine anyone more steadfast than Minerva McGonagall. She had been through hell and back, yet her resolve was unshaken.

"You’ve all shown tremendous courage," Kingsley said, his voice low but full of conviction. "Now, it’s time for us to show the world what we can do when we stand together. We will fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. We will fight for the future of every person who has been crushed under Riddle’s boot."

The room seemed to fill with a palpable energy. Hope was right. They had no choice but to stand together. This wasn’t just about defeating Erudite or Dauntless. This was about ensuring that the future wasn’t stolen from them.

When the silence finally broke, it was with the sound of hands clapping together in agreement. The deal was sealed, the pact made. They were unified, for better or for worse. Regulus couldn’t help but feel a small spark of hope—perhaps, just perhaps, they might stand a chance.

But that was when Dumbledore stood, his piercing gaze sweeping over the group. His expression softened when it landed on Regulus. 

Everyone continued speaking, but Regulus kept his eyes on the old man.

Dumbledore made his way over to Regulus and slipped a piece of paper into his hand. 

Regulus looked down at the paper and opened it.

“I need to speak with you. It is urgent and of the utmost secrecy. Do not tell anyone.”

Regulus was confused but carefully closed the note and put it into his pocket.

James gave him a curious look, but Regulus just mouthed “Later.”

Whatever this was, Regulus already knew he wasn’t going to follow these orders. Because he was done keeping secrets from James. 

Notes:

Dumbledore.. what do you want 🤨

Chapter 22: Secrets

Regulus sat in the quiet of the room, absently running his fingers along the edge of his glass. The dim light of the flickering candle was the only illumination in the room, but it did nothing to soften the weight in his chest. His conversation with James echoed in his mind, looping in the back of his thoughts.

Dumbledore wants to meet with you, and you shouldn’t turn it down. But I don’t trust him, Reg. And I don’t think you should either.

It had been James’s voice that had made him pause—offering him the wisdom of caution, something Regulus hadn’t really considered. But the more he thought about it, the more he understood. There was something about Dumbledore that made his instincts scream with unease. The man’s cryptic tone and carefully chosen words had never sat well with him. There was always something underneath, something he couldn’t quite place.

James was right, of course. Dumbledore was powerful. His connections and influence stretched across factions. But Regulus had learned long ago that power often masked deception. They had agreed that Regulus should go. But deep down, Regulus had his reservations.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Dumbledore was expecting him.

With a sigh, he rose from his seat and made his way out of the room. The air in the Dauntless headquarters seemed unusually thick with tension that evening. Perhaps it was the looming threat of Riddle’s army, or the uncertainty of the alliances they had made. Either way, Regulus couldn’t shake the feeling that things were speeding toward a breaking point. He only hoped that whatever Dumbledore had to say would help clear things up—though part of him feared it might complicate things further.

The hallway stretched out before him, dim and silent. He reached the door of the small meeting room Dumbledore had arranged. For a moment, he hesitated, his hand resting just above the doorknob. His heart beat slightly faster as he pressed it open and stepped inside.

Dumbledore was sitting at a small wooden desk, the faint light casting long shadows over his face. His robes were meticulously arranged, and his expression was unreadable. The man always had this way of making everything seem so deliberate, so controlled.

"Regulus," he greeted him, his voice low, but with an edge of familiarity that Regulus couldn’t quite shake. "Thank you for coming."

Regulus said nothing for a moment, eyes scanning the room before settling on Dumbledore’s face. "What is it you wanted to discuss?" he asked cautiously, his tone guarded.

Dumbledore didn’t waste any time. He leaned forward slightly, hands folded in front of him. "There is something very important that has been taken from us, Regulus. Something that could change the course of this war."

Regulus raised an eyebrow. This was the part that made him nervous. Dumbledore wasn’t the type to speak in vague terms without a clear agenda. His words were always carefully selected.

"What exactly has been stolen?" Regulus asked, trying to keep his voice even, though suspicion crept in. He had a feeling this was about more than just stolen information.

"Sensitive technology," Dumbledore said simply. "Developed by Abnegation. But it’s not just any technology. This is something that could give Erudite unprecedented power. Something that could tip the war in their favor. If they can harness it, they will be unstoppable."

Regulus absorbed the words slowly, letting them sink in. Abnegation had developed something powerful? It was difficult to imagine. The faction of selflessness was known for its emphasis on humility and service—not for the creation of weapons or technology. But Regulus had learned over time that every faction had its secrets.

"Why are you telling me this?" Regulus asked, his voice a little more clipped now. He had to admit, the idea of powerful technology being taken by Erudite was troubling, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to the story—something Dumbledore wasn’t saying.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled in the way they always did, but Regulus wasn’t fooled. There was an intensity there now, a seriousness that wasn’t usually present.

"I believe you are one of the few who can retrieve it, Regulus," Dumbledore said, leaning in just a little closer. "You know both Dauntless and Erudite. You’ve walked the line between them. You understand their strategies, their methods. You know how they think."

Regulus felt the flicker of unease intensify. It was true, of course—he did know both factions better than anyone. He’d spent years under the control of Erudite, and even longer living among Dauntless, learning their ways. But the thought of being sent back into Erudite’s grasp, of playing their game again, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I’m not exactly known for my... loyalty to either faction," Regulus replied, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice. He was trying to keep his emotions in check, but it was becoming harder the more Dumbledore pushed.

Dumbledore’s expression didn’t falter. "I understand your reluctance," he said, "but you have something that no one else has: the ability to blend in. You’re not just a member of Dauntless. You have the mind of Erudite. They wouldn’t suspect you. You can do what no one else can."

Regulus clenched his jaw. Dumbledore was pressuring him. The urgency in the older man’s voice was undeniable. It was as if the weight of the world rested on Regulus’s shoulders. But the more Dumbledore tried to convince him, the more Regulus felt his instinct to resist rise.

"I need time to think about it," Regulus said firmly, his voice low. "I can’t make a decision like this right away."

Dumbledore didn’t immediately respond, and for a long moment, they simply regarded each other in silence. Regulus could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy, but he didn’t back down. He wasn’t going to be coerced into making a rash decision, no matter what Dumbledore thought.

Finally, Dumbledore sat back, his expression unreadable. "Very well," he said softly, his voice tinged with something almost imperceptible—frustration, perhaps, or disappointment. "But understand this, Regulus: the war is growing more desperate by the day. You’re one of the few who can make a difference. Think carefully."

Regulus nodded curtly, his stomach twisting with a mixture of doubt and resolve. He didn’t trust Dumbledore, not fully. But he couldn’t ignore the possibility that the technology Dumbledore spoke of was the key to tipping the balance in their favor. He would think about it, but the thought of going back to Erudite, to face everything he had fought to escape, was almost too much to bear.

As he turned to leave the room, the door creaked slightly, and Regulus caught sight of a familiar face in the hallway—his brother, Sirius. He was talking in low, earnest tones to Remus, and for a brief moment, Regulus froze.

Sirius’s voice was low but clear, a hint of frustration in his tone. Regulus couldn’t make out the words, but the look on Sirius’s face told him everything he needed to know. His brother had been fighting, struggling just like the rest of them.

And yet, as Regulus lingered in the hallway, the weight of the conversation with Dumbledore lingered. Everything was at stake now—his brother, Remus, James, everyone he had come to care about. If he chose to accept this mission, he might be risking it all.

A sense of urgency gripped him. He couldn’t afford to make the wrong choice.

Taking a deep breath, Regulus turned and walked down the hall, his mind racing.

Notes:

Get outta here Dumbledore 🖕 Manipulative ugh

Chapter 23: The Dinner (Remus' POV)

Remus had never been one to let things slide. When Hope first sent him the invitation, it had been a soft slip of parchment slipped under his door—no fanfare, no fanfare at all. He hadn’t expected it, and for a long time, he hadn’t even bothered to open it. But the note sat there for days, tempting him with its quiet message.

Please meet me tonight. I need to explain, Remus. Please.

The invitation felt like a half-buried memory resurfacing: a request from someone who had been absent in his life for so long. Hope, his mother, had abandoned him without so much as a backward glance, leaving him with his father, a man who had made him feel more like an object to be discarded than a son to be loved. But now, after all this time, Hope wanted to speak? To explain? He wasn’t sure he had the strength for that kind of vulnerability, let alone the trust to let her back into his life after everything that had happened.

Every day, he walked past the note, his fingers itching to crumple it up, to discard it as easily as she had discarded him. But something in him kept stopping. It was a curiosity, maybe. Maybe a part of him—small and reluctant—wanted to know what had driven her to leave. To understand the reasons behind her choice. And a part of him wondered if she was offering him some kind of reconciliation.

But was it even possible? Could he forgive her for abandoning him, for choosing duty over family? Remus wasn’t sure. All he knew was that every time he picked up the letter, something inside him clenched, an old wound reopening and refusing to heal.

When he finally did decide to open the letter, the words on the page were just as simple as the ones he had already read in his mind. The tone was apologetic, earnest, and there was no grand justification—just an invitation to sit and listen. To let Hope explain herself.

For days, the note stayed on the table next to his bed, and Remus’ thoughts circled it like a predator eyeing prey. Finally, though, the question became too loud to ignore. What if this was his only chance? What if this was the only time she would ever reach out again? The war had them all on edge. Everyone had something to fight for, something to lose, and if they didn’t act fast, it could all be over.

It was in one of these moments of indecision that Sirius walked into the room, already a step ahead of Remus, his brow furrowed with concern. "You’ve been staring at that note for days, Moony. You gonna open it or frame it?"

Remus huffed, running a hand through his hair, looking away. "I don’t know if I want to. She’s been absent my entire life, Sirius. And now, after all these years, she sends me this? It’s not like I’ve forgotten how she left me behind. How she just... disappeared."

Sirius’ face softened, and he took a step closer, leaning against the doorframe. "I get it. Believe me, I do. But maybe this isn’t about her, Moony. Maybe it’s about you ."

"Maybe," Remus murmured, staring at the letter in his hands like it might suddenly grow fangs and bite him. "I don’t know what to think anymore. What if she’s only doing this because we’re at war? What if she just wants to make sure I’m not some liability she has to clean up? It’s... it’s hard to trust her, Pads. After all this time. I don’t want to give her that power again."

Sirius crossed the room and sat beside him, nudging him gently with his shoulder. "Remus, it’s okay to be scared of what’s going to happen. But you’ve got to do what feels right. It’s not about forgetting the past—it’s about trying to make sense of it. Whatever happens, you have to decide if you’re going to hold on to the anger, or if you’re going to at least give her a chance to explain. She’s asking. And maybe... just maybe... she wants to make it right. Even if you don’t believe it yet, you deserve that chance to hear her out."

Remus was silent for a long moment, mulling over Sirius’ words. He felt the weight of the decision on his chest, the pull of emotions he wasn’t ready to confront. But Sirius was right, as he so often was. It wasn’t about the past; it was about the present and whether he could step into the future, one way or another.

"Fine," Remus said, his voice a little shaky. "I’ll go. But I’m not doing it for her. I’m doing it for me. To at least hear what she has to say."

Sirius smiled, reaching over to squeeze Remus’s shoulder reassuringly. "That’s all you can do, mate. And if it gets too much, I’m there. You don’t have to do any of it alone."

Remus nodded, feeling a flicker of warmth at his best friend’s unwavering support. There was still a knot of hesitation in his stomach, but with Sirius by his side, he knew he wouldn’t be walking into that house alone.

"Let’s go, then," Remus said, standing up and glancing at the door. "I guess we’ll find out what’s left to salvage, won’t we?"

Sirius’ grin was playful, but there was something deeper in his eyes—something that reminded Remus that no matter how hard this conversation might be, he wasn’t walking into it without backup. With one last squeeze to his shoulder, Sirius stood up, and the two of them made their way toward Hope’s house.

Remus had no idea what would happen when he sat down at that dinner table, but he knew one thing for certain: he wasn’t going to face it alone.

Not anymore.

 

***

 

The moment Remus entered Hope’s living quarters, he immediately noted the stark contrast to what he had expected. No personal mementos or nostalgic pieces filled the space. Instead, the room was bare, utilitarian—just basic furniture and neutral-colored walls. It wasn’t home. It didn’t feel like anyone’s home, really. It felt more like a holding cell—functional, but devoid of warmth or comfort.

Hope was seated at the far end of the small table, her posture stiff, her hands folded neatly in front of her. The light from the overhead fixture illuminated the room harshly, the buzzing of the light bulb underscoring the awkwardness of the situation. The silence that greeted them as they entered was thick, almost suffocating. There was no warmth, no attempt to make this dinner feel anything other than business.

"Remus," Hope said after a moment, her voice soft, like she wasn’t entirely sure what kind of reception she would get. "Thank you for coming."

Remus stood in the doorway, his fingers tight around the handle of the door behind him, not sure if he was ready to take that next step. His throat felt dry, and for a second, he thought he might turn and walk back out. But then he remembered why he was here: to hear her out, to listen to whatever explanation she might offer for abandoning him, for abandoning them both.

He swallowed and stepped further into the room, his eyes flicking over to Sirius. There, standing beside him, was a rock—a steady force. Remus hadn’t realized how much he relied on Sirius, but in moments like this, when his emotions felt like a storm about to break, it was Sirius’ quiet presence that anchored him.

"Remus," Hope continued, gesturing to the empty chair across from her. "Please. Sit."

He didn’t move at first, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. It wasn’t just the discomfort of being in the same room with her after all these years. It was the discomfort of everything she had left unsaid, everything left unspoken between them.

"Go ahead," Sirius said softly, nudging him gently with his elbow. "We’re here. You’re not alone."

That simple reassurance was enough to make Remus take a breath, and before he could second-guess himself, he walked over and took a seat. Sirius followed suit, sitting beside him, his hand resting lightly on Remus’ knee in a quiet act of solidarity. Remus squeezed his hand briefly, grateful for the warmth of his touch.

Hope didn’t immediately say anything, her eyes flickering from Remus to Sirius and back again. There was a long silence before she spoke again, the words slow but deliberate.

"I know it’s a lot to ask for you to be here. I don’t expect you to forgive me, Remus. I just want to explain. I want you to understand why I did what I did, even if you can’t agree with it."

The words hung in the air between them, and Remus felt a tight knot form in his stomach. There it was again—the explanation, the justification. But how could anything she said make up for the years she had missed? For the way he had to grow up without her?

"I never wanted to hurt you," Hope continued, her voice faltering slightly. "But there were things happening—things you couldn’t understand at the time. There was no way to explain it without making it worse, and I thought—"

"Enough," Remus said suddenly, his voice sharper than he intended. "Enough of the excuses. You left. You abandoned me. And now you want me to just sit here and listen to you explain yourself?"

His pulse was pounding in his ears. It was hard to breathe, hard to think with the anger clawing at his throat. He had spent so many years wishing for answers, for some kind of explanation, but now that she was here—now that he had the chance to ask her everything—it felt wrong. All he could feel was the empty space she had left behind, the void she had created.

Hope opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the door creaked open. Remus’ breath caught in his throat as Lyall Lupin stepped into the room. The air seemed to grow colder at his presence, and Remus felt a familiar chill of dread settle into his bones.

Hope stood quickly. "Lyall, I didn’t expect you yet."

"I thought I’d come in person to hear your side of the story," Lyall said in a voice as cold as the room itself, walking past Hope without acknowledging her. His eyes immediately settled on Remus, and there was no warmth in them—just the usual disdain. "It’s not often I’m asked to verify someone’s story ."

Remus’ heart sank. This was exactly what he had feared: being trapped in a room with both of his parents, with the unresolved tension, the unsaid words, all coming to a head. It was too much, too fast. He wanted to leave, to run away and never come back. But instead, he sat there, eyes flicking nervously to Sirius for reassurance.

Sirius didn’t flinch. He didn’t flinch when Lyall spoke, didn’t flinch when Lyall’s gaze turned sharp and accusatory. Sirius just sat there, his hand still firmly resting on Remus’ knee, and gave him a small, steadying squeeze.

"Please, sit," Hope said to Lyall, clearly trying to smooth things over. "I invited you here because I thought it was important for you to hear the truth from me. To hear it straight from me, before everything is torn apart by the war."

Lyall snorted, his lips curling in contempt. "The truth? The truth is a luxury none of us can afford right now, Hope." He took a seat at the end of the table, his eyes never leaving Remus. "The truth doesn’t matter to me. What matters is what we do next."

Remus’ stomach churned, and he could feel the anger building up inside him. Lyall had always been cruel, but seeing him here, sitting at the table like nothing had changed, only amplified the ache in Remus’ chest. He wasn’t just the father who left him emotionally scarred—he was also the father who had never once offered any real love or support.

"Enough," Remus said again, his voice breaking the tension in the room. "Enough of this. I don’t want to hear it."

The words felt like they were burning on his tongue, but there was something more—something deeper. There was hurt in him, an old wound that hadn’t healed. And now, sitting here, surrounded by the people who had abandoned him in different ways, he was reminded of just how deep that wound went. How it wasn’t just about his parents, but about what they had done to him.

He turned to Sirius, his face flushed with anger, but also something else—something fragile, something raw. Without thinking, he leaned closer to Sirius, the only constant in the storm.

Sirius’ hand found his again, steady and unwavering. "I’m here, Remus. We’ll get through this."

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

 

***

 

The tension in the room was palpable, thick and suffocating, as Remus sat rigid in his chair, his eyes fixed on the table before him. Hope, sitting across from him, seemed a world away, her attempts at making conversation falling flat in the face of the looming presence of his father. Remus’ stomach churned, a storm of emotions stirring in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was the awkwardness of the situation, the bitter taste of years of unresolved issues, or the anxiety building with every minute that dragged on in silence.

What was supposed to be a dinner—an opportunity for understanding, for reconciliation—felt like a cruel joke. His mind kept drifting back to the events of the last few weeks, the constant pressure, the looming threat of war, and now, of all things, being here, in a room with both of his parents. After everything that had happened, after everything he had fought for, this felt like a step backward.

Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers twisting together in his lap. His palms were sweaty, and his chest felt tight. He didn’t belong here—not with Lyall, not with his mother. The weight of their presence was too much, like it was smothering him. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he agreed to come to this dinner, but this? This was not it.

Sirius, sitting next to him, noticed the change immediately. He could always tell when Remus was getting agitated, his body stiffening, his breath quickening. His fingers subtly brushed against Remus’ hand, the gentle pressure a silent offer of support. Remus looked at him, eyes wide, silently begging for some kind of reassurance.

Without a word, Sirius interlaced their fingers under the table, giving him the physical contact that Remus needed to ground himself. The warmth of his hand, the steady pulse of Sirius’ grip, was enough to help him push back against the rising tide of panic threatening to overtake him. It was a small gesture—simple, subtle—but in that moment, it meant everything.

Sirius leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m here," he said, his words calm but firm. "I’m not going anywhere."

Remus exhaled sharply, squeezing his hand in return. It wasn’t enough to quiet the storm inside him, but it was a start.

"Thank you," Remus muttered, his voice hoarse.

Hope, ever the peacemaker, cleared her throat and tried once more to steer the conversation in a neutral direction. "So, Remus… how’s everything going with the—"

But her words were interrupted by the unmistakable sneer of Lyall, who finally spoke up after what seemed like an eternity of silence. His voice was cool, almost mocking.

"So," Lyall drawled, his gaze sliding over to Remus, "you’re still playing house with the boy, are you?"

Remus felt his breath catch in his throat, his grip tightening on Sirius’ hand. He could feel the words coming, like a wave breaking against the shore. He had been expecting it, had been bracing for this moment, but it still stung. The disdain in Lyall’s voice was palpable, every syllable laced with a venom that had never been far from the surface.

Sirius’ jaw tightened at the comment, but he didn’t react. He kept his hand firmly wrapped around Remus’ fingers, refusing to let go. He knew better than to rise to the bait, knew that engaging with Lyall would only escalate things. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to punch the man across from him.

Remus felt his chest tighten, but he forced himself to remain calm. He wasn’t going to let his father get under his skin—not tonight, not when things were finally starting to feel like they could get better.

"Yes," Remus said evenly, his voice betraying none of the anger swirling inside him. "I am. And I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking."

Lyall scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "Doing fine?" He let out a humorless laugh. "You, of all people, should know how much of a distraction a relationship like that is. You’ve never been able to focus on what really matters."

"I’m focused on what matters to me," Remus shot back, his tone sharper now. "Which is more than I can say for you."

Lyall’s expression darkened, the mockery fading into something much more dangerous. "You shouldn’t be focusing on that," he spat. "There’s nothing natural about it. You’re just a—" He glanced at Hope briefly, as if considering his next words carefully. "A disappointment ."

The word landed like a slap, and Remus’ stomach churned with the familiar sting. He had heard it all his life, had learned to carry the weight of his father’s words like a second skin. But it never got easier. It never got easier.

Sirius squeezed his hand tighter, his thumb brushing against Remus’ knuckles in a silent reassurance. He didn’t need to say anything. Remus could feel his support, his unwavering presence, radiating through every movement, every touch.

"I don’t need your approval, Lyall," Remus said, his voice steady now, though the tremor in his chest had not fully dissipated. "Not now, not ever."

Lyall’s eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, Remus thought he might actually stop. But instead, Lyall leaned forward slightly, his lips curling into a cruel smirk.

"You’re unnatural , Remus," he sneered. "Always have been. Always will be. And as for this pathetic little relationship you’ve got going with that—" He gestured to Sirius, his tone dripping with disgust, "— boy ... it’s just more proof of how far gone you really are."

The insult was like a slap, but worse than that, it was a reminder of everything Remus had been told over the years. How he wasn’t enough. How his love for Sirius—his friendship , his connection —was somehow wrong. How they were wrong.

The anger inside Remus swelled, burning hotter now, a fire he couldn’t ignore. He was done with the passive acceptance of Lyall’s cruelty. He’d spent too many years in silence, too many years internalizing the hatred his father threw at him. But no more.

"Stop," Remus growled, his voice low but dangerous. "I won’t listen to this anymore."

Lyall’s lips curled in that same cruel smile. "Oh, I think you will," he said, his voice laced with venom. "You’re a failure , Remus. You’ve always been a bit broken.” he said, gesturing to Remus’ arms. “Your mother—" He paused for a moment, his eyes gleaming with malice. "She knew it. She left because of you."

The words hit harder than any physical blow could have. Remus recoiled, the sudden pain nearly knocking the wind out of him.

"Don’t you dare," Sirius hissed, his teeth gritted.

“Lyal, Stop.” Hope’s voice cut in.

But Lyall wasn’t finished. "She couldn’t handle the shame, the disappointment of having a son like you. No wonder she left —she couldn’t bear being around you anymore."

Sirius’ grip on his hand faltered for a split second, but then it was back, firm and unyielding. Remus could feel the fury radiating from his friend’s body, could see the raw anger in his eyes.

That was it. That was the final straw.

Before Remus could even think, Sirius was out of his chair, lunging across the table with a growl of rage. His hands shot out, grabbing Lyall by the collar and slamming him back against the wall with a force that made the room shake. Lyall tried to push him off, but Sirius was relentless, pummeling him with fists, fury fueling every blow.

"Don’t you ever speak to him like that again!" Sirius shouted, his voice a raw, guttural roar.

Remus stood frozen for a moment, his body rooted to the spot as he watched the scene unfold before him. The sound of fists connecting with flesh, the grunts and gasps, the chaotic rush of adrenaline—it was all too much. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. He knew this wasn’t the right way. He knew it wasn’t helping. But in the moment, the sight of Sirius defending him, of standing up to Lyall with all the strength and conviction Remus had never thought he deserved… it was overwhelming.

Finally, it was Hope who screamed, her voice cracking. "Remus, make them stop!"

The command broke through the haze of anger clouding Remus’ mind. He rushed forward, grabbing hold of Sirius, his hands trembling as he pulled him off Lyall.

Sirius, his chest heaving, was shaking, his hands bloodied from the fight. His eyes were wild, the adrenaline still coursing through him, but when he looked at Remus, his expression softened just slightly. He was still trembling, still seething with rage, but now he was just there , his arms around Remus in a way that spoke volumes.

Remus gently pried Sirius’ hand from his chest and pushed him back, stepping between them and glaring at Lyall. "Get out," he said, his voice low but cold. "Now."

Lyall, his face bruised and bloodied, stood slowly, his eyes blazing with fury. But he didn’t argue. He simply turned on his heel and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that rattled the walls.

As the room fell silent once more, Remus took a shaky breath, his hands trembling as he turned to face Hope. She was standing there, looking at him with a mixture of guilt and sorrow.

"I’m so sorry, Remus," she whispered. "I didn’t want this to happen."

Remus met her eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on him. It wasn’t just about his father anymore. It wasn’t just about the words Lyall had thrown at him. It was about everything—the past, the choices, the things they couldn’t change. But something in Hope’s eyes told him she understood. Maybe not fully, but she understood.

"I had to leave," she said softly, her voice cracking. "Lyall would have hurt me more if I stayed. I had no choice."

The words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Hope wasn’t the perfect mother, but in that moment, she was trying. That was enough for now.

Remus didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he pulled Sirius back toward him, and for the first time that night, he felt something like peace settle in his chest.

 

***

 

The Dauntless compound was eerily quiet after the storm had passed. Remus couldn’t quite shake the unsettling feeling that lingered in his chest, but as the adrenaline began to drain away, he found himself focused on Sirius, who was sitting across from him at the small wooden table in their shared quarters. His brow furrowed as he watched the blood-streaked bandages wrapped around Sirius’ knuckles, a result of the furious fight with Lyall.

They hadn’t spoken much since they left Hope’s quarters, the tension between them still thick. But now, in the silence of their room, Remus knew there was no more running from the emotions they had been trying to avoid all evening. It was just them—no fighting, no bitterness—just the raw, unfiltered reality of what had just happened.

Sirius was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His hair, usually perfect in its unruly disarray, was a bit more wild, and his expression was a mixture of exhaustion and concern. Remus could see the toll the night had taken on him—his hands were shaking, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, but his gaze was locked on Remus. It was like he was waiting for something, an answer to a question that had been left unsaid.

"Hey," Remus murmured as he sat beside him, reaching for the first aid kit. "You’re bleeding a little. Let me clean you up."

Sirius winced as Remus gently took his injured hand in his own, turning it over to inspect the damage. His knuckles were swollen and scraped, the skin raw and red from where they had made contact with Lyall’s face. There were several cuts that looked deep enough to need stitches, and Remus winced in sympathy.

"Sorry," Sirius muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know that wasn’t exactly how you imagined your family dinner going." He let out a hollow chuckle, his voice laced with a bitter edge. "Sorry for ruining it."

Remus looked up at him, his gaze softening. "You didn’t ruin it, Sirius." His voice was quiet, but sincere. "Lyall did. You just… did what anyone would have done. And I’m not going to apologize for what happened, either. You were protecting me. And I’m grateful for that." He gave a faint, reassuring smile.

Sirius sighed, rubbing his face with the heel of his hand. "I’m still sorry," he muttered, more to himself than to Remus. "I didn’t mean to cause a scene. But seeing him talk to you like that… I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Not after everything." He met Remus’ eyes then, his gaze hardening. "He’s a fucking bastard. You didn’t deserve any of that, Remus."

Remus nodded, taking a deep breath as he carefully started cleaning the blood from Sirius' cuts. His touch was gentle, the soft motion of wiping away the blood giving him a sense of purpose amidst the whirlwind of emotions. Sirius’ words, though harsh, were a comfort, reminding Remus of how far they had come, how fiercely Sirius stood by his side. In that moment, Remus knew without a doubt that, despite everything, he was no longer alone. Not with Sirius by his side.

"It’s fine," Remus said quietly. "I’m not mad, you know."

Sirius’ lips twisted into a small, hesitant smile. "You sure?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, as if testing the waters.

Remus chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. "I’m sure. In fact…" He trailed off for a moment, his lips quirking as a thought entered his mind. "I actually found it very hot."

Sirius blinked, a look of surprise crossing his face. "What?" he asked, clearly taken aback. He couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing from his body. "You’re telling me that watching me beat the hell out of your father turned you on?"

Remus grinned, the weight of the evening momentarily slipping away as he met Sirius’ playful gaze. "Well, not just that," he said with a shrug. "But the way you stood up for me… the way you defended me without hesitation? Yeah, that’s pretty damn hot."

Sirius snorted, looking at him with a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Well, that’s definitely a first," he said, his lips twitching into an even wider smile. "I can’t say I ever thought I’d be ‘hot’ for throwing punches."

Remus let out a low laugh, the sound rich with affection. "Yeah, well… I guess I’ve got a thing for you. What can I say?" His eyes softened as he looked at Sirius, the vulnerability of the moment sinking in. "You’re not just the person who’s always there to pick me up when I’m down, you’re someone who fights for me. And that means everything."

Sirius’ gaze darkened slightly at those words, something flickering behind his eyes. He leaned forward, his breath shallow as he reached out to gently touch Remus’ jaw, his fingers brushing lightly across the skin. The soft touch made Remus’ heart race, the pulse between them quickening in that slow, deliberate way it always did when they were close like this.

"You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now," Sirius murmured, his voice low and rough, the weight of his words settling in the air between them.

Remus swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the intensity in Sirius’ voice. His own breath quickened, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling like a furnace as he leaned in, closing the distance between them. His lips brushed against Sirius’, soft and tentative at first, testing the waters. But when Sirius responded, his hands coming up to cradle Remus’ face, it was like something inside them both snapped.

The kiss deepened, slow but passionate, their bodies instinctively drawing closer, pressing together as if they couldn’t get close enough. Remus felt the heat of Sirius’ body against his, the strength in his hands, and the electricity that surged between them with every touch. The world outside of them faded away, leaving only the two of them in their shared space, their breaths mingling, their hearts racing.

Sirius pulled away just slightly, his lips hovering above Remus’ with a grin that was equal parts teasing and loving. "You know, I think I’m getting a little addicted to this. To you." His voice was low, laced with that familiar mischievousness that always made Remus’ pulse skip.

Remus chuckled breathlessly, his fingers threading through Sirius’ hair as he tugged him back into the kiss. "I’m not complaining," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Their kiss grew more intense as time passed, the need for each other escalating with every passing second. Remus could feel the passion building, the connection deepening between them with each touch. He couldn’t remember a time when he had felt so alive , so fully himself, as he did when he was with Sirius. Everything about this—this connection, this bond—was real.

Sirius broke the kiss again, his lips swollen from the intensity. "Remus," he breathed, his voice strained with barely contained desire. "Are you sure…?"

Remus didn’t let him finish. He leaned in again, kissing him more fiercely this time, the hunger in their kisses undeniable. Their clothes became a distant memory as they moved together, pulling each other closer, their hearts syncing in a rhythm they had only just begun to explore. In the heat of the moment, all the pain, the fear, the weight of the world outside of this room—none of it mattered.

The world fell away as they finally came together, finding solace and passion in each other’s arms. Remus had never known this kind of intimacy, this kind of raw connection. In Sirius’ arms, he was safe. He was loved. And, for the first time in a long time, he felt whole.

As they collapsed back against the bed, their breaths heavy and ragged, Sirius smiled against Remus’ skin, his fingers gently tracing the lines of his back. "This doesn’t fix everything, but it helps."

Remus nodded, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. He reached up to brush a strand of hair from Sirius’ face, his fingers lingering on his skin. "Yeah," he whispered. "It does."

And in that moment, as they lay tangled together, there was no fear, no war, no past. There was just the two of them, finding solace in the quiet after the storm. Together.

Notes:

Ahh a nice family dinner. What could go wrong 😃
Oh

GET HIM SIRIUS!!

Aww we love a WolfStar moment

Chapter 24: Fire & Steel

The stillness was unnatural.

Not the kind that brought peace, but the kind that hung heavy—like the moment just before lightning splits the sky. The Dauntless compound, usually alive with noise and movement, had fallen into a quiet so sharp it felt like the world was holding its breath.

Regulus stood on the upper walkway, overlooking the atrium below. Shadows pooled in the corners, broken only by flickering lanterns and the glint of steel being checked and re-checked. Soldiers moved with muted purpose: strapping on gear, testing triggers, murmuring to one another in voices barely above a whisper. The usual reckless bravado of Dauntless was nowhere to be seen. Now, every motion was calculated. Intentional.

He leaned against the railing, arms folded, watching them. Watching him .

James Potter stood in the center of it all, sleeves rolled up, wand tucked behind one ear as he worked through the final battle plan with a small cluster of leaders. His voice was low, calm, but his eyes… they burned. Regulus had seen that fire before, but never with this kind of clarity. Whatever came next, James would meet it head-on.

Predictably.

“I see you’re brooding again,” James said suddenly, turning his head without looking up. “Very mysterious. Very on brand.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d been staring. “I was hoping you’d trip over something. Thought it might lighten the mood.”

James finally looked at him then—smirking, but with a tiredness behind it that hadn’t been there weeks ago. “You could just admit you’re worried about me.”

“Not even in my final breath.”

“Sure, sure. And if I die dramatically, you won’t monologue over my corpse?”

“I wouldn’t waste my breath.”

James grinned at him, and for a second, it was almost like things were normal. Like they weren’t waiting for Riddle to descend with fire and death.

But the grin faded. The silence returned.

Regulus looked away first.

Below, Barty was arguing with Evan over something, gesturing wildly while Evan shook his head and laughed. Minerva stood off to the side, deep in discussion with Pandora and Lily, her posture tense but unwavering. Near the far wall, Remus leaned close to Sirius, speaking quietly. Sirius was nodding, nodding too much, like he was trying to memorize whatever Remus was saying.

Remus looked… different. Not physically—though the tiredness that used to cling to him like a second skin had eased—but in the way he held himself. Steady. Capable. Whole.

Regulus didn’t know when that had happened, but he was glad for it.

He turned his eyes back toward the weapons table beside him, picking up a knife and testing the edge with his thumb. Sharp. Reliable. Not like magic, which could falter when you were exhausted or broken or terrified.

There was a comfort in steel.

“You thinking about running?” James asked, voice light but quiet now.

Regulus glanced at him. “You’re the Dauntless born. I thought you all died for sport.”

James shrugged, a lazy roll of his shoulder. “Maybe. But not alone.”

It wasn’t romantic. Not exactly. But the words settled heavy between them, anchoring something in place that had been floating loose for weeks.

Regulus looked down again. Watched Pandora offer Lily a flask. Watched Lily take it, smiling, hands shaking only slightly. Watched Marlene sharpen her blade in rhythmic, soothing strokes.

How had they gotten here?

Just a few months ago, half of them had been enemies. Traitors. Ghosts of old alliances, old wounds. And now they stood together, ready to fight for something bigger than their factions, bigger than revenge. Ready to die, maybe. But not alone.

He didn’t believe in fate. But he believed in this .

The weight of it pressed down on his chest. He took a slow breath, trying to steady the hum of dread under his skin. Not fear. Not quite. Just the unbearable not-knowing. The edge of something inevitable.

He felt James step closer, just a brush of presence near his arm.

“They’ll come before sunrise,” Regulus murmured. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” James said, voice low. “I know.”

“And we don’t know if we’ll survive it.”

“Nope.”

Regulus turned his head slightly. “You always this good at comforting people?”

James smirked again, but didn’t reply.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world below carried on—quietly preparing for war—and Regulus let himself stay in that stillness. Just for a breath longer.

Because once it began, there’d be no stopping it.

He watched Sirius reach out and touch Remus’s face. Just a brush of fingers across a cheekbone. Tender. Intimate. Regulus looked away quickly, like it was something sacred he wasn’t meant to see.

He didn’t know if any of them were ready.

Didn’t know if anyone could be.

 

***

 

It started with fire.

A low boom echoed up from the lower levels of the compound—muffled at first, then followed by a tremor that shook the steel catwalk beneath Regulus’s boots. Dust rained from the ceiling like ash. Someone screamed. Then came the second explosion, closer this time—louder, hungrier—and suddenly everything shattered.

Sparks burst from the lights overhead. Metal groaned and split. The walls reverberated with the unmistakable sound of chaos unleashed.

Regulus barely had time to shout a warning before the blast wave hit, knocking him back against the railing. He caught a glimpse of James—mid-turn, gun already drawn—before the smoke swallowed them whole.

Then came the screams.

And the war began.

 

***

 

Regulus hit the ground hard, lungs burning with smoke, ears ringing with the screech of twisting steel. He rolled instinctively, narrowly avoiding a beam that came crashing down where he’d been a moment earlier. The hallway was thick with debris and confusion—figures moving in and out of the haze, wands flashing, voices yelling orders no one could hear.

He staggered to his feet and caught sight of Minerva first, standing tall despite the blood already soaking her sleeve. Her hair had come loose from its braid, wild against the sharp lines of her face. She raised a shield just in time to block a curse from a dark-cloaked Erudite, then fired back with enough force to send them flying.

“Black!” she shouted over the noise, eyes locking on him. “Form up!”

He didn’t hesitate. He ducked under a swinging pipe, dodged a burst of shrapnel, and fell into step beside her just as Barty barreled into the fray from the side corridor, wand blazing, wild-eyed and grinning like a madman.

“This is so much better than training drills!” Barty shouted gleefully, spinning to take down two Erudite in one sweeping hex. “Do you smell that? That’s the scent of revolution, baby!”

“You’re insane,” Regulus muttered, but his heart was racing now too, alive in a way it hadn’t been since the rebellion started. There was no time to think, only move—duck, strike, shield, breathe, repeat.

Behind them, the Dauntless warriors rallied with brutal efficiency. The compound’s design worked in their favor: tight corridors, high ground, fallback zones. The strategy they'd spent weeks building wasn’t perfect, but it held—for now.

Still, the enemy kept coming.

And there were more of them than anyone had expected.

Dozens. Scores. Waves of Erudite in black armor and pale blue lights, some with modified tech Regulus didn’t recognize—stunners embedded into gauntlets, cloaking fields that flickered like broken illusions. And leading them, cutting through the chaos like wolves at the head of a pack—

Bellatrix.

She stood near the edge of the Pit, robes swirling like smoke, wand resting lazily at her side as she watched the destruction unfold. Her eyes gleamed with delight, lips curled into a smirk that Regulus knew too well.

Rodolphus stood beside her, tall and silent, directing squads with sharp, practiced gestures. He moved like a man who had fought and killed in more wars than he could count. Where Bellatrix was chaos, Rodolphus was discipline. Together, they were lethal.

Regulus froze—just for a breath.

Bellatrix looked up.

Across the smoke-filled Pit, their eyes met.

It was a strange thing, how the rest of the world seemed to blur around the edges. The clashing of blades, the cries of the wounded, even the flash of magic—none of it mattered in that moment. Just her gaze, sharp and familiar and cruel.

She tilted her head slightly.

And then she smiled.

It wasn’t a grin or a sneer. It was slow. Knowing. A silent hello soaked in blood.

Regulus’s stomach turned. For all the nightmares she’d starred in, for all the years between them, he wasn’t ready to see her like this—so alive, so certain. Like she’d already won. Like she still owned some part of him.

He turned away.

Not because he was afraid of her. But because he refused to let her take space in his mind—not now, not when people were dying around him.

Not when there was still a war to win.

“Regulus!” Barty’s voice snapped him back. “We’ve got a breach on the north corridor!”

Regulus forced the moment away, buried it deep, and followed.

 

***

 

The fighting intensified with every step they took toward the north wing. The compound had become a maze of smoke and debris, corridors twisted by flame and broken supports. Bullets lit the darkness in strobe-like bursts. Cries of pain echoed through the halls, overlapping with the constant rhythm of boots and gunfire.

Regulus moved like a shadow, quick and controlled. He took down a soldier with a knife to the throat, then ducked a bullet that hit the wall behind him. Minerva was still beside him, fierce and precise despite the blood on her temple. Barty fought with the kind of reckless joy that made him nearly untouchable—dodging and laughing and casting with both hands like he was dancing through a nightmare.

They were holding the line. But only barely.

A sudden roar made Regulus whip around. From the lower level, a group of Dauntless rebels charged up the stairwell, led by Sirius—who looked like he’d crawled through hell and decided to keep going.

“East flank is holding,” Sirius shouted, eyes scanning the chaos. “Remus and Lily are reinforcing the med wing, but we’ve got movement near the power core!”

Regulus nodded once, then turned to Minerva. “We hold here. No one gets through this hallway.”

She gave a terse nod, raising her wand. “I’ll collapse the far tunnel if they push too hard.”

“And take yourself with it?” Regulus asked sharply.

Minerva arched a brow. “If I must.”

Before he could argue, Barty let out a sudden, almost childlike laugh. “You know,” he said, spinning his wand once, “this is the most fun I’ve had in weeks .”

“You need new hobbies,” Regulus muttered.

“You love me.”

“I tolerate you.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m covered in ash and blood, Crouch, I’m not blushing —”

Another explosion ripped through the compound, closer this time. They hit the ground as rubble fell around them, and Regulus caught just one more glimpse—far across the Pit—of Bellatrix still standing, untouched, watching it all unfold with cold satisfaction.

He didn’t look again.

He couldn’t.

 

***

 

The smoke was thicker here.

It clung to Regulus’s skin, choked his lungs, stung his eyes. The corridor was scorched and half-collapsed, the stone walls glowing faintly from residual heat. Somewhere to the east, someone screamed. Somewhere else, a spell cracked against concrete.

Regulus moved fast, boots crunching over glass and grit. His wand was steady in his hand, muscles aching but familiar in their exhaustion. He didn’t know where James was—he didn’t have time to check. He had to push forward. Had to hold the line.

Then the shadows shifted.

And he felt her.

Before he saw her, before she spoke, he knew.

A low, honey-slick voice slithered through the smoke.

“Darling Regulus. Look how you’ve grown.”

He turned sharply, gun raised. Bellatrix stepped out from behind the rubble like a nightmare in silk and soot, her hair wild, her clothes black as oil. Her face was streaked with ash, but her eyes glowed. Alive. Too alive.

He didn’t speak. Just stared at her.

She tilted her head, like a curious cat.

“No greeting for your favorite cousin?”

“I was never your favorite,” Regulus said coolly.

She smiled. “No. But you were always promising .”

She moved closer, slow, deliberate steps that made the space between them feel like a chessboard. A knife twitched lazily in her hand, but Regulus knew better—nothing about Bellatrix was lazy. Every gesture was bait.

“You could have been great,” she said. “ You could have led them. You had the name. The mind. The discipline.”

Regulus didn’t move. “And you had the madness.”

She laughed—sharp and delighted. “Oh, darling , I still do. And it’s served me better than your precious little rebellion ever will.”

He didn’t bother answering. She wouldn’t stop.

“You turned your back on all of it,” she whispered, stepping even closer now. “On us . On Him . On your blood.”

Regulus raised his gun just as she did.

The first shot hit the wall behind him—he ducked, fired back, it went low and missed her leg by inches. She danced backward, laughing as she parried, then lunged forward throwing her knife at his head.

Regulus rolled aside, came up hard, and slammed a fist into her chest. She let out a hiss, her smile slipping into a snarl.

“You traitor ,” she spat. “Do you think they’ll ever really accept you? The Dauntless, the Factionless, the mongrels—do you think you’re one of them now?”

“No,” Regulus said, stepping forward. “But I’m not one of you either.”

She pulled another knife out of her boot and swung it towards Regulus. He caught her arm midair and held fast as the knife hovered inches from his face.

She pushed harder.

“You’re still a Black,” she hissed. “You’ll always be a Black.”

“Then I’m the last one worth the name.”

With a sudden roar, he broke the standoff—slammed his shoulder into her, knocking her back, and fired a shot that hit her square in the side. She screamed as she fell, tumbling through a haze of smoke and rubble.

Regulus advanced, fast, heart pounding. Dust clouded his vision.

He leapt over a fallen beam—

—only to find empty space.

She was gone.

Maybe she had ran. Or someone had dragged her out. He didn’t know. All that remained was the echo of her laughter fading into the rubble.

He stood still for a moment, chest heaving. His hand was trembling.

Not from fear. Not exactly.

Just the weight of what she’d said. What she was .

She’d been right about one thing: he was still a Black. That blood ran through him like it always had. But he’d carved himself away from it, piece by piece. And he wouldn’t let her drag him back into that abyss.

He wouldn’t.

A distant crash snapped him out of it.

Regulus turned sharply toward the sound. Down the corridor—through broken scaffolding and collapsed stone—he saw Minerva cornered, avoiding shots from two Erudite attackers. Her body flickered with strain. Blood streaked down her temple.

No time.

He was already moving.

He sprinted down the hall, weaving through the ruins, and leapt down the short ledge just as one of the attackers raised their gun to strike Minerva from behind.

Regulus hit them hard and sent them flying.

The other turned, but Minerva was already moving—her gun slashing downward, her face grim. The second assailant crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

For a moment, they just stood there. Breathing. Bleeding. Alive.

Minerva gave him the barest nod. “Nice timing.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

A ghost of a smile crossed her face.

Then she straightened, wiped the blood from her brow, and looked down the ruined hallway. “Still too many left.”

Regulus nodded, eyes hard.

“Then we keep going.”

And they did.

 

***

 

The battlefield felt like a suffocating storm.

The sounds of gunfire echoed constantly—sharp, deafening cracks that seemed to come from every direction. Explosions rang out from the outskirts of the compound, sending debris flying in unpredictable arcs. The air was thick with dust, the ground littered with broken glass, fallen wood, and the occasional body.

Regulus and Minerva were moving through the wreckage—quick, silent, fluid. Their boots crunched over gravel and debris, the only sounds their rapid, synchronized steps. His eyes scanned the chaos, darting between scattered figures and the chaos unfolding around them.

Minerva, still nursing a wound on her shoulder, didn’t slow. Her eyes were sharp, calculating, even as her gun hung loosely by her side, ready to be raised in an instant. Regulus mirrored her movements, his own pistol already in hand, fingers twitching with the constant readiness of the battlefield.

And then, just as quickly as it all started, there was a scream.

It was raw and panicked—someone's voice cracking with terror.

Regulus whipped around, heart slamming in his chest. His eyes locked on Evan, running toward something in the distance—someone. A thin thread of dread curled in Regulus's stomach as he followed Evan’s gaze.

And there it was.

Rodolphus Lestrange stood over Barty, his boot digging into Barty’s chest, holding a heavy revolver to Barty’s forehead. The cold, unfeeling look on Rodolphus’s face told Regulus everything he needed to know: This wasn’t a warning. This was the end.

Regulus’s stomach twisted as the weapon went off.

Barty dropped like a ragdoll, his body crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap.

For a moment, everything paused . The battlefield ceased to exist, the sounds of gunfire fading into an unbearable silence that pressed against Regulus’s eardrums. His chest tightened, and his blood turned to ice.

No. Not Barty. Not like this.

Evan’s scream cut through the quiet, raw and guttural. Regulus’s stomach lurched as Evan dashed forward, arms flailing as if he could outrun death itself. His heart hammered in his chest as he watched Evan drop to his knees beside Barty’s still body, hands trembling as he reached for him, tears pooling in his eyes.

"Not Barty. Please... no, no..." Evan was saying, his voice breaking, cracking under the weight of the horror.

Regulus stood frozen for a moment, shock radiating through him. His mouth was dry. His breath was shallow. Everything—every instinct, every thought—was telling him to move. To act. To do something. But his body refused.

It was too late.

Evan was shaking Barty, desperate and frantic, but Regulus could see it in Evan’s face—the crushed look of someone who had already lost everything. The sight of his best friend lying there—motionless—was enough to drag Regulus into the depths of something terrible.

And then…

Barty’s fingers twitched.

Regulus blinked, staring in disbelief. There was no way. No way—

And then, as if waking from a daze, Barty groaned, rolling his head slightly to the side. His hand lifted—slow, deliberate—and pushed against the dirt as he attempted to sit up.

“Well,” Barty muttered, his voice low and raspy, “that was rude.”

Evan froze, his hands hovering over Barty as if afraid to touch him again. For a split second, time seemed to pause once more.

Barty continued to groan as he slowly propped himself up, using his elbows to support his weight. His face was pale, covered in dust and blood, but his grin was unmistakable. “ That … definitely wasn’t my most graceful moment.”

Evan blinked rapidly, staring at him like he wasn’t quite sure if he was hallucinating. The reality of the situation seemed to collapse in on itself. Then, with a strangled laugh, Evan dove forward, pulling Barty into a tight hug.

“You idiot ,” Evan gasped, voice broken. “What the hell were you thinking?! You could’ve— you could’ve died !”

Barty chuckled weakly, still holding that smug grin on his bloodied face. “Now, now, darling,” he rasped, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand, “it wouldn’t be a proper battle without a bit of drama. I had to give them a show.”

Evan’s hands were still shaking as he pulled back, staring down at Barty as though he was some kind of ghost. His words were barely a whisper, filled with incredulity and relief. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

“I know.” Barty’s grin widened, despite the blood dripping down his chin. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Evan shook his head but didn’t let go of him. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his voice shaking as he tried to push the words out. “ Don’t do that again. You scared me. You nearly— I thought you were dead, Barty .”

Barty merely smirked, completely unbothered by the fact that he had just been moments away from being buried under the weight of Rodolphus’s bullet. “I’m fine, darling,” he said, still grinning like the reckless fool he was. “I just needed a dramatic moment, you know? Can’t let you forget how good I am at making an entrance.”

Regulus didn’t know how to feel. His chest tightened with something—something fierce, something that burned. He’d always known Barty was a madman, but to see him alive when the reality had been so close to the opposite... It shook something in Regulus he wasn’t ready to confront. His heart had dropped when he saw Barty fall. It had felt like the world itself had cracked open. And now…

Now, Barty was fine. And that empty, hollow ache still lingered in Regulus’s chest, reminding him of something too dangerous to name.

Minerva was beside him now, watching with a raised eyebrow as Evan and Barty continued their tense reunion. She didn’t need to say anything; the question was written all over her face. What the hell just happened?

Regulus didn’t have an answer. He couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from the scene—Evan’s frantic relief and Barty’s unapologetic grin. The absurdity of it all. How everything had almost shattered in that one brief moment. How close they had all come to losing someone. To losing something.

And as that realization settled into the pit of his stomach, a thought crossed his mind. He was still here , standing on this battlefield, surrounded by the wreckage of everything that mattered. Still alive. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for the price of it.

But there was no going back now.

The fight was still far from over.

 

***

 

The weight of the battle was shifting, but no one had time to celebrate. It was as if the world had turned upside down in an instant, and the force that had once seemed insurmountable was finally faltering. Regulus could feel it—something was changing, though he couldn't yet name it. The frantic pace of combat had slowed just enough for him to recognize the subtle shift in momentum.

Minerva’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the haze of smoke and noise. She was a steadying presence amidst the chaos, her orders cutting through the madness like a blade. "Hold the line! Stay together!" she shouted, her words carrying authority. It wasn’t just the battle strategy that was changing—it was their unity. The alliance was holding together. That was the key.

Poppy was beside her, tending to wounded soldiers with swift hands, her quiet efficiency in stark contrast to the madness that surrounded them. She moved from one body to the next, administering first aid with a level of precision that bordered on calm. Regulus couldn’t help but admire her steady composure in the face of such chaos. While others fought to stay alive, she fought to keep them alive.

Then came the sound of distant gunfire—the unmistakable rhythm of coordinated shots echoing in the distance. Regulus glanced up. His heart stuttered for a second when he saw them: Hope’s fighters—the Factionless—arriving in full force, charging toward the front lines with unrelenting determination. They weren’t just a ragtag group anymore. They were a unified force, strong and sure.

Behind them, Kingsley led the Candor fighters into the fray. The Candor were known for their sharp, no-nonsense approach to combat—efficient, precise. With their arrival, the Erudite lines began to fray. Regulus watched as Hope, her face fierce with resolve, moved alongside the Factionless, cutting through Erudite forces with brutal efficiency. For the first time, there was a distinct shift in the air. The tide was turning.

Regulus’s pulse quickened as he witnessed the impossible. The Amity fighters—once peaceful, hesitant, now moved alongside the Factionless. There was no hesitation in their movements, no second thoughts about what they were doing. They had taken a side, and it was no longer about the Faction; it was about survival, about something bigger. Together, they were strong. The unity between the Factionless and Amity fighters was something Regulus had never expected, and yet it made all the difference.

And then, just when it seemed like they might have a chance, Regulus saw something that made his heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just the unexpected reinforcements or the shift in momentum. It was the figure emerging from the shadows of the compound—Dumbledore.

Regulus had always known Dumbledore was a leader, but seeing him in action was something else entirely. The older man moved with such swiftness, his steps sure, every action precise. It was as though time slowed in his presence. He didn’t need to draw a weapon—his hands moved like lightning, disarming attackers with incredible speed, knocking them unconscious with swift, non-lethal force. Every move he made was calculated, a balance of strength and wisdom.

Regulus watched as Dumbledore ducked under an Erudite’s swing, disarming him with a deft flick of his wrist before sending him to the ground in a fluid motion. There was no hesitation, no wasted effort. He was as dangerous as he was composed, and seeing him in action made Regulus realize just how much they had underestimated the strength of their collective forces.

The Erudite forces, once so confident in their superior numbers, began to falter. It was as if a switch had been flipped. What had been a relentless assault only moments before was now a chaotic retreat. The Erudite—Riddle’s forces—were realizing something they hadn’t expected: they had underestimated the unity of the alliance.

Regulus’s heart pounded in his chest as he moved forward, weaving through the shifting crowd of soldiers. The sounds of retreat were becoming louder—more urgent. It was a messy, disorganized retreat, but it was clear now: they were losing. And they were losing fast.

Rodolphus, who had been leading the charge on the Erudite side, was nowhere to be seen. Regulus’s eyes scanned the battlefield, trying to track him down. But as the Erudite forces broke, scattering in every direction, it was clear the tide had already turned. There was no time to focus on the individuals anymore; this was about the bigger picture.

Minerva’s voice came through the chaos, her orders rallying the remaining Dauntless soldiers, her presence an anchor amidst the storm. “Don’t let them regroup! We’ve got them on the ropes—keep the pressure on!”

It was a strange thing to feel. For so long, the battle had felt endless, as if victory was a distant hope, something unreachable. But now, the air was electric with the knowledge that they had achieved the impossible. They had broken the Erudite lines, not through overwhelming force, but through unity. They had held together, fought together. And now, they were winning together.

Regulus found himself at the front once again, pushing through the ranks, his eyes scanning the battlefield for any lingering threats. The Factionless were everywhere, their makeshift weapons cutting through the Erudite with ease. Candor fighters were working side by side with Dauntless soldiers, no longer divided by faction lines, but bound by something stronger—something far more dangerous.

He spotted Barty in the distance, his gun raised as he took down an Erudite fighter with a well-aimed shot. For a moment, Regulus’s eyes met his, and Barty offered him a quick, mischievous grin. It was a fleeting moment, a reminder of the bonds they shared, of how far they had come. But there was no time to savor it. They had to push forward, keep fighting.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

The Erudite forces had broken. They were retreating, running in disarray, their once-pristine ranks dissolving into chaos. It wasn’t clean—there were still pockets of resistance, still skirmishes taking place, but the battle had been won.

Regulus stood in the thick of it, breathing heavily, trying to process what had just happened. The adrenaline of the fight was still buzzing in his veins, but the victory—the sweet, hard-earned victory—was settling in. They had done it. They had held the line. They had won.

Minerva’s voice reached him again, calm and steady, as she moved through the battlefield, ensuring their forces were secure. "Gather the wounded. We hold the compound," she said, her voice carrying the authority of someone who had seen this all before.

Regulus nodded, still processing the whirlwind of events. His eyes flicked over to Evan and Barty, who were speaking quietly in the aftermath of the chaos. They had made it through. And that meant something. It meant everything.

But even as he stood there, watching the retreating Erudite forces scatter, a thought crept into the back of his mind. This battle was won, but the war was far from over. The alliance had shown its strength today, but Riddle and his followers would not give up so easily.

But for now, at least, they had won.

 

***

 

The dust had settled, but the weight of the battle still hung in the air like a thick fog. The ground beneath Regulus’s feet was littered with remnants of the fight—broken glass, spent shell casings, discarded weapons—but the smoke had begun to clear, revealing the aftermath. The sounds of gunfire had been replaced by the low murmur of voices, the occasional shout of command, and the clatter of metal as people worked to tend to the wounded and secure the area. The once-thriving compound now felt like a war zone, its walls scarred and the air heavy with the scent of fire and blood.

Regulus limped back into the compound, his leg aching with every step, but the pain was a reminder of something more important: he was still standing. He had made it through. He was alive. His clothes were torn, his face streaked with dirt and blood, but the worst of it was behind him. He had survived. And so had they.

He glanced around, his eyes landing on Minerva. She was still moving through the crowd, her voice sharp as she directed the recovery efforts. Despite her commanding presence, she leaned heavily on Poppy, who had her arm around Minerva’s shoulders, steadying her as they worked. Minerva’s face was tired, a shadow of exhaustion under her usual composure, but there was something tender in the way she allowed Poppy to help her. It was a quiet moment, unnoticed by most, but Regulus caught it. A moment of vulnerability, one that he knew Minerva would rarely show to anyone. He admired her strength, but he understood that it was okay to lean on someone else too.

His gaze wandered, and his attention was drawn to Evan and Barty, who were standing together in the midst of the quiet chaos. Evan’s hands were trembling as he cupped Barty’s face, and then, without hesitation, they kissed. The sight was simple—there was nothing dramatic or grandiose about it—but in that moment, it felt like a declaration. The world around them had changed. It wasn’t just survival anymore. It was about living .

Some people stared, unsure of what to make of the open display of affection, but Regulus just smiled softly. He wasn’t surprised. He’d always known they had something strong between them. In a world as broken as theirs, love was something that deserved to be seen, even if only for a moment.

Pandora and Lily were nearby, holding each other in a quiet embrace. The fire in the metal barrel crackled softly, casting a warm glow on their faces as they exchanged a soft, teary kiss. It was the kind of kiss that felt full of promise—of hope, of what could be. The aftermath of battle had a way of distilling everything down to what really mattered. Regulus could see it in the way the two women held each other—something simple, something pure amidst the chaos.

He didn’t need to linger. His eyes drifted once more, finding Sirius and Remus sitting side by side, their bodies pressed together in quiet solidarity. Sirius’s head was tipped slightly onto Remus’s shoulder, and the two of them sat in silence, breathing together as if the world had fallen away. Regulus didn’t know if they were looking for solace or just a moment of peace, but either way, they had it—together. It was strange, seeing the hardened soldiers of the Dauntless so still, so at peace with one another. It reminded Regulus that even in war, there were moments to be treasured.

Regulus let his gaze linger for a moment, the battle’s echoes still ringing in his ears, and then he straightened, his tired body protesting the effort. He moved toward a quieter part of the compound, finding a place against the wall to lean. The adrenaline had long since drained from his body, leaving only the physical toll of everything they’d fought through. He could still feel the pulse of it—the adrenaline, the terror, the hope—but for now, it was fading. For now, there was only the quiet aftermath of victory.

 

***

 

Regulus was leaning against a cracked stone wall, covered in grime and ash. The stillness of the moment felt almost surreal after the chaos of the battle. His chest rose and fell with every breath, and though the pain in his body was raw, there was a relief he hadn’t realized he’d been craving. He closed his eyes for a moment, just letting the quiet surround him, the sounds of the ongoing recovery efforts murmuring in the background. He could feel the heat of the fire from the barrel nearby, the warmth of it tingling on his skin, but it wasn’t enough to completely erase the coldness that had crept into his bones from the battle.

And then he heard footsteps approaching.

He didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

James appeared beside him, his face smeared with dirt and blood, his eyes just as tired but with a spark of something more. There was an intensity in the way James moved, in the way he looked at Regulus. Without a word, he stepped closer, his hand cupping Regulus’s jaw as he tilted his face up. And before Regulus could even react, James kissed him—rough, fierce, and unrelenting. It was a kiss of release, of everything they had survived, of everything they had yet to face.

Regulus kissed him back without hesitation, letting himself relax into the moment, allowing everything to melt away. It was the first time in hours that he felt the tension leave his body, the weight of the world temporarily forgotten. The kiss was raw, and it was everything they needed.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, breaths coming heavy but steady.

James grinned, a small laugh escaping him as he ran his thumb over Regulus’s cheek. “Never thought I’d find someone so irresistible with a bloody nose,” he teased, his voice light, a stark contrast to the seriousness that had defined so much of their fight.

Regulus rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “Of course, it’s my charm that gets you,” he replied, his voice hoarse but warm. “I’ll be sure to keep it in mind for next time.”

James’s grin softened as he leaned in again, pressing his forehead to Regulus’s. There was a quiet victory in that moment, a shared understanding of everything they had just been through and everything still to come. But for now, it was enough to just be here. Together.

They stood there for a long moment, hands still intertwined, eyes occasionally drifting to the celebrations around them—the laughter, the quiet conversations, the soft embraces. Everything had changed, but for the first time in a long while, there was a sense of peace. The future wasn’t certain, and there was still so much to be done, but they had won today. And that was something worth holding onto.

James finally broke the silence, his voice low but full of that same warmth. “We did good today.”

Regulus’s gaze softened as he looked at him, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest. “We’re not done,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of what they still had to face. But this time, there was something new in his tone—something that hadn’t been there before. For the first time, there was real hope in his voice. It wasn’t the blind optimism of the past. It was something grounded, something hard-won.

And for the first time, Regulus didn’t feel quite so afraid of what came next.

Notes:

Bellatrix is hereeee *internally panicking for them*

Girl- either kill him or don't 🙄

BARTY NOOOOOOO- oh wait

Yay they won 😃

Chapter 25: Fear & Fury (Remus' POV)

The battle was over. The fight had been brutal, fierce, but now, as the smoke finally began to clear from the compound, a strange silence had descended over the battlefield. The quiet wasn’t peaceful; it was heavy, laden with the weight of everything that had just happened. It was the kind of silence that pressed on your chest, suffocating, leaving you with only the buzzing hum of adrenaline slowly draining from your veins.

Remus stood at the edge of the clearing, his body sore, his mind still in shock from the chaos of the fight. He glanced around, trying to make sense of what had just transpired. They’d won, that much was undeniable, but the victory felt hollow. His heart was still thudding in his chest, each beat a reminder of the intense fear, the moments of near-death they’d all survived. But they had made it through. They had survived.

It had been a close call. So many had come close to falling. It had all happened so fast—cannon fire, gunshots, the cries of the wounded. And yet, for all the carnage, the casualties had been fewer than they’d feared. The alliance had been prepared. They’d fought smart. They’d held their ground.

But even the minimal losses were too much. Remus couldn’t help but think about each of them, each life that had been snuffed out too soon. The faces of the fallen kept flashing through his mind—quick glimpses of people he’d seen once or twice, others whose names he hadn’t even learned.

But it was Evan’s reaction that hit him hardest.

Evan had been standing there, frozen in horror, staring at Barty’s motionless body on the ground. The way his eyes had gone wide, his breath coming in ragged gasps, had broken something inside Remus. There was a kind of terror in Evan’s expression that Remus recognized all too well—the fear of losing someone you couldn’t imagine life without. The panic had been so raw, so pure, that it almost felt like Remus could feel it in his own chest.

And then, when Barty had groaned, half-conscious, his trademark smirk already on his lips, Evan had crumbled. He’d collapsed beside Barty, clutching him like a lifeline, his body shaking with relief. Remus had watched from a distance, unable to tear his gaze away from the reunion, the raw emotion that had exploded from Evan in that one moment.

But it wasn’t just Evan that Remus thought about now.

As he stood in the aftermath of it all, his eyes scanning the room, he found his mind drifting toward Sirius. The thought hit him like a physical blow. He was still here, still breathing, but in that split second, Remus had imagined what it would be like to lose him. To see Sirius fall—gone, just like that. The pain of that thought was so sharp it almost left him breathless.

Remus’s heart began to race, his breath coming quicker as the anxiety began to crawl in the back of his throat. He felt a cold, sick feeling spreading through his chest, squeezing the air out of him. The weight of the world suddenly felt too much to bear, and his mind began to spiral downward, thoughts tumbling one after the other like a snowball gathering speed.

What if Sirius had been the one to fall? What if it had been him, lying there instead of Barty? What would he have done if the roles were reversed? What would it mean for him if he woke up tomorrow and found that the world didn’t have Sirius in it anymore?

The thought of losing him was almost unbearable, and yet it was all too real. The war, the violence—it all felt too close. They had all lost so much already.

And the pain that came with it was unrelenting. It was like a tidal wave crashing over him, the memories of every fight, every person he’d seen die, rushing forward all at once.

What if they all fell? What if everyone he loved—everyone who mattered to him—was taken from him, one by one, until there was nothing left but empty space?

His breath hitched as the panic began to claw at him, his pulse thudding in his ears. The overwhelming thought of being alone, of losing the people who anchored him in this world, flooded his mind like poison.

He felt like he was suffocating.

In that moment, Remus could almost feel the darkness creeping in, the familiar pull of his mind wanting to retreat into something sharper, something that would let him feel in control again. It would be so easy to slip into that, to give in to the coldness that sometimes came in waves. The urge to harm, to feel the sharpness of the pain cut through him, to let it consume him like it used to…

His hands clenched into fists. No. No, not now. Not again.

He fought to shake the thoughts from his mind, forced himself to breathe deeply, counting each inhale and exhale as if it might ground him. His body trembled with the effort to push the darker urges back, to focus on the present and not let himself be swept away by his own spiraling thoughts.

He couldn’t let it happen again. He couldn’t let the fear of losing everyone consume him. They had won. They had survived. The battle was over, and there was still so much to live for, so much left to fight for.

He forced his mind to focus on the others, the people who were still here, still standing beside him. He could hear laughter and voices from the rest of the group, people already starting to rebuild, to heal.

He turned away from the dark thoughts, steeling himself. The next steps were ahead of them. The alliance had won the battle, and there was still work to do. Still people to protect.

And Sirius—Sirius was there. He was still here.

He took another deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs, and reminded himself that he wasn’t alone. He had his friends, his family, the people who had fought beside him. And maybe, just maybe, they could get through this together.

For now, though, he had to focus. He had to stay present. There was too much at stake to let his fears get the best of him.

With one last steadying breath, Remus wiped the tear that had slipped down his cheek, straightened his shoulders, and walked forward into the next chapter, whatever it may bring.

 

***

 

The room was heavy with the weight of the aftermath. Despite the victory outside, the meeting felt anything but celebratory. The walls, scarred by years of conflict, seemed to close in, as if the battle outside had seeped into this small, fragile space. The collective silence held a sense of stillness, a momentary reprieve after the storm.

Remus sat near the edge of the table, his fingers tracing the scars on the wood as he tried to steady himself. His body was exhausted, a deep weariness that reached beyond the physical—an emotional fatigue that clung to his bones. The distant hum of the conversation around him felt muffled, like a sound underwater. He had to focus, had to push through the fog in his mind. There were decisions to be made, and he couldn’t afford to lose himself in the swirling tides of his own thoughts.

The leaders of the various factions were gathered, each of them still visibly shaken but with a shared sense of resolve. Minerva, still nursing a wound to her side, stood at the head of the table, her posture straight, despite the clear exhaustion in her eyes. Kingsley, ever calm and authoritative, sat beside her, nodding as Dumbledore spoke in measured tones.

"Victory is ours," Dumbledore began, his voice like a soft echo that seemed to resonate in the room. "But as we know, the battle is never truly over. There is still much to rebuild, and we must ensure that our people are not only protected but united."

Remus nodded along, though a part of him couldn't help but feel the weight of those words. The war had taken so much already, and now, they were supposed to rebuild from the ashes. He watched as Minerva gestured for the map laid out in front of them, detailing the various regions that had been hit hardest during the conflict. There were still many who were scattered, displaced, and the uncertainty of how to bring them together was palpable in the air.

"We need to establish clear lines of communication," Minerva said, her eyes scanning the map with an intensity that betrayed her fatigue. "Our first priority is ensuring that everyone has a place to go—refugees, wounded, everyone. We can’t afford to leave any faction behind."

Kingsley leaned forward, tapping the table lightly with his fingers. "And what about the strategic position of the Erudite forces?" he asked, his tone sharp, but not without concern. "They may be retreating now, but we cannot discount the possibility of another attack. We need to secure our borders, especially with the uncertainty of Riddle's next move."

The mention of Riddle’s forces caused a shiver to pass through the room. Even though the immediate threat had been pushed back, the shadow of their enemies lingered like a storm cloud on the horizon. Remus knew that the battle, though won, had not ended the war. There was always the possibility of retaliation, of further conflict, and the tension in the room made it clear that everyone was thinking the same thing.

Dumbledore spoke again, his voice warm but resolute. "We have to stay united, and that means overcoming our differences. I trust each of you to continue building these alliances. We cannot go back to the divisions of the past."

There was a moment of silence, where Remus caught the glance shared between Minerva and Kingsley. Their faces were calm, but the weight of Dumbledore’s words hung in the air. Remus could sense that while they all agreed in principle, there was still underlying tension. It wasn’t just about the alliances; it was about who would lead them, who would hold the reins of power as they moved forward.

His gaze wandered around the room, settling briefly on Hope, who was standing by the window, looking out into the smoky sky. She seemed lost in thought, her face unreadable. He had expected her to be more vocal in these discussions, but she had been oddly quiet, letting the others take the lead. Remus wondered if there was something more on her mind, but he didn’t have the energy to probe. His focus remained on the conversation unfolding before him.

Dumbledore was continuing, his words carrying a weight of unspoken truth. "Now, as we consider the future, we must also look inward, to the people who will guide us. We must be cautious, but we must also trust in those who have proven their loyalty and vision for what comes next."

That’s when Lyall’s name surfaced, and the room seemed to collectively tighten, like a noose pulling taut.

Remus’s heart gave a sharp, involuntary lurch as Lyall’s image came to mind. The idea of his father stepping into any position of power made his blood run cold. He clenched his fists under the table, trying to keep his emotions in check. The thought of Lyall, with his cold, calculating presence, taking a place of leadership among them felt wrong on every level. But as Dumbledore spoke, his voice full of calm authority, Remus felt a growing sense of dread.

"I believe Lyall has demonstrated a commitment to the future," Dumbledore said, his tone almost fatherly, but tinged with something else—something that Remus couldn’t quite place. "His vision for rebuilding is sound. And his experience cannot be overlooked."

Minerva raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "I agree that we need strong leadership, but the question remains: does Lyall have the moral compass necessary to guide us through this next chapter?"

Kingsley added, his voice quiet but firm, "He may be experienced, but his past raises too many questions. I can’t say that I’m comfortable with him taking the reins."

Remus felt a sharp pang in his chest. He wanted to speak out, to say what he knew in his bones—that Lyall’s vision was self-serving, that it was dangerous, but the words stuck in his throat. He felt the eyes of the room on him. The tension was palpable. He looked to Hope, silently pleading with her to back him up, to show the others the truth of who Lyall really was.

But Hope only glanced at him, her expression unreadable, before looking away. She said nothing.

Remus’s stomach twisted in frustration, but he forced himself to stay silent, unwilling to challenge Hope in front of the group. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the table, trying to focus on what was being said.

Remus’s stomach twisted as Lyall stepped forward, his presence dominating the room. He had that air about him—the same calm, controlled charisma that had always made him dangerous. The room fell into an uneasy silence as Lyall adjusted his posture, a subtle, confident smile playing on his lips.

"Friends," he began, his voice smooth, calm, and calculated. "The victory we’ve secured today is a testament to the strength of our alliance. But now, we face the greatest challenge ahead of us: rebuilding."

There was a pause, a moment where everyone in the room seemed to breathe collectively, waiting for Lyall’s words to settle before deciding what would come next. Remus couldn’t take his eyes off his father. Every movement, every word that fell from his lips, felt like a sickening echo of the past.

Lyall’s tone was steady, measured. "We’ve seen what happens when divisions arise, when factions fracture. The chaos, the violence—it serves no one. But I believe we have the opportunity to change all of that. Together, we can create something greater than what we had before. A future where every one of us is protected, where our people are stronger for it."

His words, so carefully chosen, seemed to wrap themselves around the room, drawing people in. Lyall had always known how to speak—to manipulate—to make his ideas seem like the only reasonable path forward. Remus felt a sudden wave of nausea rise in his chest. This was exactly what his father had always done. He had always talked about strength, about protection, about leadership, and made it sound so… necessary. But Remus knew better. He had lived through it. He had seen the true face of this man, the one hidden beneath the smooth words and promises of unity.

Lyall’s gaze swept the room as he continued, his eyes gleaming with the kind of certainty that had always terrified Remus. "I’ve seen the fractures in our society. I’ve lived through the mistakes of the past, and I’ve learned from them. What we need now is a leader who can guide us through the next phase of this conflict. Someone who isn’t just looking to survive, but to thrive. And I believe I am the one who can lead us to that future."

Remus’s chest tightened, the sound of his father’s voice becoming an overwhelming presence in his mind. He tried to push the memories away—those images of his childhood, of being forced to witness cruelty disguised as ‘discipline.’ Lyall’s hands—his cold, cruel hands—coming down on him with a fist or a belt. The fear that always seemed to follow him around like a shadow. The constant sense of dread.

But as Lyall continued, Remus found himself struggling to hold onto the present. His father’s words bled into the room, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he could almost hear them again: "I’m doing this for your own good, Remus. This is what you need." The thought of him being in charge—leading them—felt like a nightmare that had come to life. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t.

But Lyall’s speech was drawing nods of approval from many of the leaders around the table. It was as though they were caught in the gravitational pull of his words. Minerva’s face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Kingsley, too, seemed to hesitate. The more neutral figures—those who had been mostly focused on survival, not the intricacies of leadership—seemed genuinely moved by Lyall’s confidence.

Dumbledore, seated at the head of the table, watched Lyall with an intensity that only added to the growing unease in Remus’s gut. It wasn’t long before the older man spoke, his voice carrying that same sense of wisdom and authority that had won him so much respect throughout the years.

"I must say," Dumbledore began, his voice low and thoughtful, "that Lyall has shown a level of vision and experience that cannot be easily dismissed. The future, as we all know, is uncertain. But we need someone who is willing to make the tough decisions—someone who understands what it takes to lead."

The room was silent as Dumbledore’s words settled. Remus felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. No. This couldn’t be happening. He wanted to scream, to shout that they were making a grave mistake. But his voice caught in his throat, the words lost to him in the flood of panic that now overwhelmed him.

Dumbledore, the very man Remus had looked up to for guidance, was endorsing Lyall. Remus’s mind screamed in protest, but his body felt frozen, as if the room itself was shrinking around him. He turned his gaze to the others, to the people who should have known better—Minerva, Kingsley, Hope. But none of them spoke. None of them challenged what was happening in front of them.

Remus’s pulse raced as he looked back at Lyall, who now stood tall and confident, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. This was what he had wanted all along. Power. Control. The ability to shape the world in his image. And now, with Dumbledore’s support, Lyall had the momentum to make it happen.

It was as though the room was spinning. Lyall’s words continued to wash over him, each sentence pushing him further into a spiral of dread.

"I understand that this may not be an easy transition," Lyall said, his voice now softer, as though speaking directly to the doubts that remained. "But sometimes, the hardest choices are the ones that will bring us closer to where we need to be. I will do whatever it takes to ensure the future of our people. The safety, the security, the strength."

Remus fought to keep his breathing steady, to keep his hands from trembling as they gripped the edge of the table. Safety. Strength. Those were the same words his father had used to justify his cruelty—to make it feel like everything was for Remus’s own good. To make it feel like the pain was necessary.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Lyall’s speech wound down. He was standing tall now, an almost regal presence. He had managed to capture the room. And with Dumbledore’s endorsement, Remus realized that it was only a matter of time before the others would follow.

The moment Lyall finished speaking, Remus’s world seemed to freeze. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, his mind whirling with disbelief and frustration. Dumbledore’s endorsement had hit him like a punch to the gut. He had always believed in the man’s wisdom, his sense of justice. To hear Dumbledore of all people lend his weight to this… monster… made something inside Remus snap.

"Are you serious?" Remus spat, his voice sharper than he intended, his eyes darting to Dumbledore in disbelief. "You’re actually considering this? After everything?" His pulse quickened, his hands trembling with the effort to keep calm. But there was no calming down now. The thought of his father— Lyall —in charge of anything was unthinkable, unbearable.

Minerva, who had been sitting quietly, visibly tensed at his outburst. She exchanged a glance with Kingsley, who seemed equally conflicted, before fixing her gaze on Remus.

"I understand your feelings, Remus," she said, her voice low and steady, but there was no mistaking the way she guarded her words. "But we need to think about what’s best for everyone. There’s a reason Lyall has support."

"No." Remus shook his head, his voice catching with frustration. "There’s a reason he’s been kept in the shadows. The things he’s done—" He cut himself off, his throat tightening with emotion. He glanced at the others, his gaze pleading for understanding, for some sign that they saw what he did. What his father was.

The group was quiet for a moment. Hope’s eyes flicked nervously between Remus and her father. Remus’s heart sank as she said nothing. She was avoiding his gaze. Not even a glance in his direction.

"Hope, please," Remus whispered, the desperation creeping into his voice. He wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her as a friend, a teammate, or as someone who shared the same blood, but the plea was there. "You know what he’s done. What he is. You can’t let him do this."

Hope’s face remained unreadable, her eyes still lowered. She opened her mouth, and for a brief moment, Remus thought she might speak out against Lyall. But then she closed it again, swallowing the words, and finally shook her head. "I don’t—" She stopped herself, running a hand through her hair, unsure. "I just… I don’t know, Remus."

His chest tightened, a weight pressing down on him as the room went silent. She couldn’t even back him up. After everything they had been through, after everything Lyall had done to them, she couldn’t find it in her to stand with him now.

"Hope, you can’t be serious," he said, his voice cracking. His thoughts scrambled, his anger flaring. "How can you—how can you let him do this to us?"

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, but the look in them only made his stomach drop further. "It’s not that simple."

The words were like a slap in the face. Remus recoiled, his emotions churning. He didn’t want to hear that. He needed her to understand, to see what he was seeing, to help him fight this fight. But Hope wasn’t there. Not in the way he needed her to be.

"I’m sorry," Hope murmured softly, stepping back. "I can’t—" She hesitated, the words weighing on her. "I can’t choose sides like that. Not when I don’t know what the right choice is."

The pain of it hit Remus like a hammer. He was fighting alone. Again.

"Remus, we’re all doing what we think is best," Kingsley said, his voice attempting to be placating. He was trying to mediate, trying to smooth over the rising tension, but Remus wasn’t listening anymore. He was too far gone in his own frustration.

"No," Remus snapped. "We’re not. You’re just letting it happen. This man, my father, is going to tear everything apart again. And you’re just going to sit there and let him."

His voice rose, but no one else spoke up, no one else came to his defense. The tension in the room thickened, the unsaid words hanging in the air like a fog that no one dared to pierce.

"I won’t let him do this," Remus muttered to himself, more to his own thoughts than anyone else. He was shaking now, his breath coming in shallow bursts as the pressure built in his chest. "I won’t."

But what could he do? He was just one voice, one person in a room full of silence. His hands clenched into fists, nails biting into the palms of his hands. He looked around again, desperate for someone, anyone, to join him. But the room had already made up its mind. Lyall had won.

A short, sharp breath left Remus’s mouth, and for a moment, it felt like his world had just cracked wide open. The weight of it all hit him all at once— Hope wasn’t with him. Dumbledore wasn’t with him. They were all just letting it happen. He felt sick.

"We’ll take a vote tomorrow," Minerva finally said, her voice calm but firm. "For now, we need to rest, gather information, and be ready for whatever comes next."

She was closing the door on the conversation. No more arguments. No more discussion. The decision would be made, and Remus could already feel the anger welling up inside him, unable to stop the searing resentment that began to build.

The others began to file out of the room, but Remus didn’t move. He couldn’t. The cold weight in his stomach, the unspoken tension, held him in place.

Hope’s silence felt louder than any argument. She glanced at him once more, but this time, he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

 

***

 

The night after Lyall’s speech was suffocating. Remus couldn’t sleep—his mind raced with thoughts of his father’s calculated manipulation, the people in the room who had been swayed by his words, and the terrifying reality of what Lyall’s potential rise to power would mean. He tossed and turned in the bed he shared with Sirius, the darkness of the room pressing down on him like a heavy weight.

Sirius was asleep beside him, his breathing steady and deep. Remus could feel the warmth of Sirius’s body next to him, the comfort of his presence—a stark contrast to the storm raging in his own mind. Remus’s eyes were wide open, staring into the dark, but it wasn’t the night he was focusing on. It was everything that had happened, everything that could still happen if they didn’t act quickly enough.

Remus shifted onto his side, his back to Sirius, but even with the quiet comfort of his lover beside him, he couldn’t shake the tension. The room was silent except for the occasional shift in the bed, the gentle rustle of sheets as Sirius turned over, still blissfully unaware of the thoughts tearing through Remus’s mind.

Lyall could take everything we’ve fought for, Remus thought, his heart rate quickening. He could destroy us from the inside out. He could—

Remus couldn’t even finish the thought before it hit him. He couldn’t let this happen. He had to do something—something bold enough, loud enough, to make everyone see the truth of his father’s cruelty. His mind kept racing, trying to come up with a way, a solution, a means to prove to the others exactly what Lyall was capable of.

The fear simulation, the thought came to him like a bolt of lightning. His stomach twisted at the thought, but the more he considered it, the more it seemed like the only option left.

He glanced over his shoulder at Sirius, still asleep, unaware of Remus’s internal battle. The light from the moon filtered softly through the window, casting shadows across the bed. His gaze lingered on Sirius for a moment, his chest tightening with emotion. Sirius was his anchor, the one person who kept him grounded, yet he knew that even Sirius wouldn’t be able to talk him out of this.

Remus shifted again, his legs tangling in the sheets. He had to do this—he had to. If Lyall could somehow weasel his way into a position of power in their alliance, if the people they’d fought beside didn’t fully understand what he was capable of, it could all unravel.

He sat up next to Sirius on the bed, just looking at him for a moment before moving to shake his shoulder gently.

"Sirius," Remus whispered, leaning in slightly to his ear. "I need to talk to you."

Sirius groaned softly, his face scrunching in discomfort at being woken. He blinked groggily at Remus as his eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to register what was happening.

"Moony?" Sirius mumbled sleepily, stretching his limbs out from under the covers. He yawned and then rolled over to face him. "What’s going on? Are you okay?"

Remus took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden nervousness that rose in his chest. He wasn’t sure how to put it, how to explain why this decision felt like the only way.

"I’m going to do it," Remus said quietly, his voice tinged with a resolve he barely felt himself. "Tomorrow. I’m going to enter the fear simulation."

Sirius immediately stiffened, his eyes sharp now, the grogginess fading. He sat up slowly, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. "What? No, Remus." He reached for Remus’s hand, his fingers warm against his skin. "You can’t do that."

"I have to." The words tumbled out more quickly than Remus had meant them to. His chest tightened, the anxiety creeping back in. "I can’t let him—let my father—take over. No one will believe me unless I show them, unless I show them exactly who he is."

Sirius stared at him, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then he exhaled slowly, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his brow furrowing deeply. "I understand why you think this is the only way, Remus. But it’s going to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?" His voice was quieter now, almost pleading. "You don’t have to do this. We can find another way to stop him, without... without this. "

Remus shook his head, swallowing hard. "There’s no other way. If I don’t do this, I’ll always wonder if we could’ve stopped him before it was too late. They need to see it. They need to understand."

Sirius’s eyes softened, his hand tightening around Remus’s. "Remus, please, don’t make yourself go through that. Don’t make me watch you hurt like that again."

"I can’t back down now, Sirius," Remus said, his voice shaking. "I have to do it. I have to."

Sirius looked like he was about to protest again, but then he seemed to give up, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took a deep breath. "I don’t want you to do this. But if you’re really set on it..." His voice faltered, a mix of fear and resolve crossing his face. "Then I’ll be with you. I’ll be right there. You won’t have to do it alone."

Remus nodded, his throat tight as he leaned into Sirius’s embrace. He knew Sirius wasn’t happy about this—hell, he wasn’t happy about it either—but there was no turning back now.

"I know," Remus whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But I have to."

The next day arrived too soon, and Remus found himself standing in front of the fear simulation chamber, heart pounding, chest tight, stomach churning. He was about to face the worst part of himself, the part he’d spent years burying and hiding from. But this time, there would be no hiding. There would be no running.

As he stepped inside, the room grew dark, and the simulation began to take shape. The world twisted, the floor beneath his feet shifting, and suddenly, he was thirteen again. He was back in his childhood home. He could smell the stale air, hear the echoing thuds of his father’s heavy footsteps.

It was happening again.

But this time, Remus wasn’t alone. He could feel Sirius’s presence in his mind, the promise that he wouldn’t face this alone. Remus took a deep breath and braced himself. This was the only way.

He stepped forward into the nightmare once more. The truth would come to light.

 

***

 

The next day, the tension in the air was palpable. Remus had made his decision, and now he had to follow through, no matter how much it terrified him. He couldn’t let this moment pass without showing them—the proof that Lyall could never be allowed near the leadership of their alliance. He had to expose his father for who he truly was, no matter the cost to his own psyche.

After spending the night tossing and turning, his resolve had hardened. There was no way around this anymore. As much as it would hurt, Remus knew he had no other choice.

He walked quietly through the compound to Minerva’s office, his heart pounding as he approached the door. The soft knock on the wood echoed louder than it should have, a sharp reminder of the weight of the moment.

“Come in,” Minerva’s voice called from the other side.

Inside, she sat at the desk, looking over some papers, but when she saw Remus enter, she straightened, concern immediately flashing in her eyes. She could see the tension in his posture, the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers twitched at his sides as if he wanted to grab onto something, anything, to steady himself.

“Remus,” she greeted softly. “What’s going on? What’s so urgent?”

“I have something I need to show everyone,” Remus said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the storm raging in his chest. “It’s about Lyall.”

Minerva raised an eyebrow, her expression guarded but curious. “What about him?”

“Proof. Proof that he should never be allowed to take a leadership role. I can show them, Minerva. I can show them what he really is.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, the weight of the task threatening to pull him under.

She studied him for a moment, weighing his words. “And how are you planning on showing them this?”

Remus took a deep breath and met her gaze. “The fear simulation. I’ll go into it and let them see the truth. All of it.”

Minerva’s eyes widened, understanding dawning in her expression. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, though there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore, but this... this was the only way. “They need to see it for themselves. They need to understand who he is before it’s too late.”

Minerva nodded, her face softening with sympathy. “All right. I’ll gather everyone. We’ll meet in the common room. I’ll make sure it’s quiet.”

The room fell silent after that, but Remus couldn’t help but feel the weight of what he was about to do pressing down on him like a physical force. He wanted to run, wanted to hide from it, but there was no escaping now. This was the moment where he had to face his past, to expose the truth to everyone, no matter the consequences.

When he arrived in the common room, his heart was thudding in his chest. Minerva had already gathered everyone—Sirius, James, Lily, Pandora, Barty, and even Hope. They were all looking at him, expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.

Sirius stood closest to him, his brow furrowed with worry, but he didn’t say anything. Remus could feel the warmth of his presence, but it only made the cold dread in his stomach grow.

“Everyone’s here,” Minerva said, gesturing for Remus to speak. “What’s going on, Remus?”

He glanced at Sirius, his hand trembling as he reached for the vial of serum. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was the key to unlocking the fear simulation. He could feel the weight of it in his palm, the cold glass reminding him of what he was about to endure.

Sirius moved closer to him, his hands gentle as he took the vial from Remus’s grasp. “You don’t have to do this,” Sirius whispered. “We can figure out another way. Please.” His voice was filled with a desperation that broke Remus’s heart.

Remus looked up at him, shaking his head. “No. This is the only way to make them understand. I have to do this.”

Sirius met his gaze for a long moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. Then, with a resigned sigh, he gently injected the serum into Remus’s arm. The liquid burned for a moment, like fire running beneath his skin, and then everything shifted.

The room around him seemed to fade, and suddenly, he was no longer in the common room. The darkness of the simulation swallowed him whole. He stood in a familiar place—his childhood home. The walls were cracked and peeling, the air thick with the stench of neglect and fear. He could feel the memories pressing against him, threatening to tear him apart.

His breath hitched as he recognized the scene—the first time his father had thrown a bottle at him, shouting about how he was a monster. Remus wanted to shut his eyes, to block it all out, but he couldn’t. His father’s voice rang through his mind like a bell, each word a strike against his fragile sense of self.

“You’re worthless, Remus,” Lyall’s voice echoed in the darkness. “You think you’re special? You’re nothing. You’ll never be anything.”

Remus could hear the sound of Lyall’s footsteps approaching from behind. His body froze, his heart hammering in his chest as the memory threatened to drown him. Not now, he thought desperately, not here. But it was too late. The simulation had begun, and he was helpless against it.

Lyall’s voice sliced through the air, venomous and unforgiving. He towered over Remus, his eyes cold and cruel as he looked down at his son, who was curled in on himself, hands trembling.

“You think you can escape, don’t you, Remus?” Lyall spat. “Cutting yourself... punishing yourself like the pathetic little monster you are.”

Remus flinched at the words, the sharp sting of them cutting deeper than any physical blow. His father’s gaze never wavered, only growing more furious.

“You think that’ll fix you?” Lyall continued, his voice rising. “That’ll make you better ? You’re nothing but a disgrace. A freak who doesn’t even know how to survive without hurting himself.”

Remus's heart hammered in his chest, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He wanted to shrink away, to disappear, but there was nowhere to run from the cruel words.

Lyall stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Remus’s arms. “Pathetic. Look at yourself—covered in scars like a dog . You’ll never be anything but a worthless mistake.”

Without warning, Lyall’s hand lashed out, striking Remus across the face with brutal force. The sting of the slap was nothing compared to the weight of his father’s contempt. Remus’s world spun as he struggled to breathe through the pain.

The words were like physical blows, and Remus stumbled back, gasping for air. He could feel the sting of the whip even before he saw it. The cruel lash of leather against his skin. He wanted to scream, to beg for it to stop, but his voice was trapped in his throat.

The memory shifted again, and now he was older—fifteen, maybe sixteen. His father stood before him, raging, eyes wild with fury. The room was smaller, claustrophobic, the walls pressing in. Lyall’s face twisted with hatred as he screamed at him.

“ This is your fault! You killed her! You killed your mother!”

Remus could feel the force of his father’s words like a punch to the gut. His mother, the one person who had loved him unconditionally, was dead, and his father blamed him for it. The anger, the shame—it tore through him like a wildfire. He wanted to curl up and disappear, but the memory wouldn’t let him.

Lyall’s voice grew louder, more venomous. “You’re nothing but a curse on this family. You’re a burden. And you always will be.”

The room fell silent as Remus collapsed to his knees in the simulation, the overwhelming weight of his past crashing down on him. The fear, the pain, the helplessness—it was all too much. His father’s cruelty was laid bare for all to see, and there was no hiding from it anymore.

In the real room, the silence was deafening. Remus could hear his own ragged breaths, each inhale shaky and shallow as the memories continued to play out in front of everyone. He was exposed—vulnerable, raw, unprotected.

And then, the first murmurs started. Barty’s voice was low, a barely audible gasp as he looked at the screen. “Is that... is that his father?”

Lily gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her face pale with shock. “He—he... that’s...”

Even Hope, standing at the edge of the room, looked horrified. Remus could feel her eyes on him, but it didn’t matter anymore. He had already made his choice. This was the only way to make them understand.

Sirius’s face was a mask of anguish, his eyes wide with a mix of sorrow and disbelief. His hand was clenched into a fist at his side, his jaw tight as he watched Remus unravel before him.

The room was filled with shock and disbelief. Even those who had once been swayed by Lyall’s smooth rhetoric couldn’t deny the truth now. The cruelty, the violence, the venom that had shaped Remus’s life—it was all there, laid bare for everyone to see.

The room remains eerily silent. The faces of those who had witnessed his greatest fear are frozen in shock and disbelief. Remus can feel their stares, but it’s as if they are miles away. The visceral, overwhelming emotions from the simulation are too much, too raw. Every ounce of his energy is gone, drained by the truth he’s just bared before them.

Sirius is at his side almost immediately, his presence grounding and solid. Without a word, he pulls Remus into his arms, lifting him as though he weighs nothing, even though Remus knows the weight of what he’s carrying is crushing. Sirius holds him close, one arm wrapped around his back, the other cradling his head, his fingers gently stroking his hair in a way that is both tender and protective.

“It’s over, Remus,” Sirius whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “It’s over now. You don’t have to do this anymore.”

Remus’s body is still trembling, but it’s not from fear anymore. It’s from the release, the brutal exhaustion of exposing his darkest memories, of laying himself bare for everyone to see. He wants to speak, to assure Sirius that he’s okay, but the words feel too heavy, too far away. He can barely process what’s happening, let alone voice anything coherent. All he can do is lean into Sirius’s warmth, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat remind him that he’s not alone.

Sirius continues to hold him, not rushing him, but not letting go either. His fingers are gentle but insistent, offering silent support. Remus feels the weight of his words, the knowledge that Sirius is there for him, and it’s the only thing that keeps him from completely unraveling in that moment.

Slowly, Sirius starts to move, helping Remus stand as the others begin to stir from their shock. He leads him out of the simulation room, his arm wrapped securely around Remus’s waist to keep him steady. Every step feels like a battle, each one harder than the last, but Remus doesn’t fight it. He lets Sirius carry him, physically and emotionally, through the haze of exhaustion and trauma.

As they step into the hallway, Remus feels the eyes of the others on him, but they don’t speak. It’s as though they know there are no words that could ease the weight of what just transpired. He’s grateful for the silence, for the understanding. No one asks questions or makes demands. Instead, there’s a quiet respect in the air—an unspoken recognition of the bravery it took for him to expose himself so completely.

Sirius doesn’t take Remus far. He guides him to a small, quiet room nearby, far from the prying eyes of those who may still be processing what they saw. Once inside, he gently lowers Remus onto a plush armchair, sitting beside him as he cradles Remus’s head against his shoulder.

The room is small, dimly lit, with the faint hum of voices and movement in the distance, but it feels like a sanctuary for Remus, as though it’s just the two of them and nothing else matters. Sirius doesn’t say anything at first—there’s nothing to say that could fix what’s been done, but he remains close, his presence a steady anchor in the chaos.

After a moment, Remus feels Sirius’s hand on his, firm and warm. “I’m here,” Sirius whispers. “You’re not alone, Remus. You never will be.”

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the fog of Remus’s mind, and for the first time since the simulation began, he feels a glimmer of peace. Not because the pain is gone, but because he’s no longer carrying it by himself.

It’s not long before the sounds of footsteps approach the door, but Remus doesn’t flinch. He knows who’s coming, and he knows they mean no harm. Minerva steps into the room first, her eyes scanning Remus’s face with a quiet concern. She’s followed by Kingsley, Dumbledore, and the others, their expressions somber.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Remus,” Minerva begins, her voice gentle but laden with guilt. “I had no idea. No one did.”

Remus doesn’t respond immediately. He’s too exhausted to speak, and the thought of reliving his father’s cruelty again makes him want to curl up in a corner and never move. But he looks at Minerva, and in her eyes, he sees the truth of her words. She’s sorry, and for some reason, that matters. It’s enough for now.

Dumbledore steps forward next, his usual calm demeanor cracked by the gravity of what they’ve just witnessed. “Remus,” he says softly, his voice filled with quiet respect. “No one could have known. You’ve shown us something tonight—something that needed to be shown. And for that, you have my deepest gratitude.”

Remus doesn’t respond. He can’t. His heart is heavy, and his body feels as though it’s been drained of all energy. But Sirius’s hand is still there, still holding him steady, and for now, that’s enough.

Lyall, still standing outside the room, can’t hold back anymore. He steps forward, his voice sharp as he tries to defend himself. “You all saw the truth,” he sneers, his tone venomous. “This is just a way to slander me. A child’s tantrum, nothing more.”

But his words fall flat. The room is silent, everyone watching him with cold, unreadable expressions. No one believes him anymore. Not after they saw what Remus’s father was truly capable of.

Lyall tries again, but no one is listening now. The truth has been exposed, and his mask has cracked. No matter how he twists his words, he can’t undo the damage that’s been done.

Remus doesn’t hear him anymore. He’s too lost in the aftermath of the simulation, his mind still reeling from the violent, overwhelming emotions that have taken over him. He’s exhausted, his body trembling from the force of the experience, but at least it’s over. The truth is out there. And for all the pain it caused, Remus knows that it was the only way to stop his father’s rise to power. There’s no turning back now.

Sirius doesn’t leave his side. He stays with him, holding him as if he’s the only thing that matters in the world. And for Remus, that’s all he needs. For the first time, after all these years, he feels the weight of his father’s cruelty start to lift, just a little. It’s not gone, but it’s not as heavy as it was before.

And for the first time in his life, Remus allows himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he can heal.

 

***

 

The decision is made quickly, almost decisively, after the truth of Lyall’s actions is laid bare before them. The room is filled with hushed murmurs as the leaders of the alliance discuss what to do next, but it’s clear from their somber expressions that there is no question of Lyall assuming power. His words, his rhetoric, the charm he tried to manipulate them with—none of it matters anymore. The facade is gone, stripped away by Remus’s vulnerability and the horror of what he’s lived through. Lyall’s past has been exposed, and there is no turning back from it.

Minerva speaks first, her voice cold but resolute. “We cannot allow someone like him to lead. His cruelty is undeniable, and it cannot be ignored for the sake of unity.” Her gaze sweeps across the room, meeting the eyes of each leader, ensuring that the sentiment is shared. She doesn’t wait for anyone to challenge her, because there is no challenge left.

Kingsley’s firm nod is all the confirmation they need. “Lyall’s actions speak louder than his words ever could. The future of this alliance is about trust, and we cannot trust him. Not anymore.”

Even Dumbledore, for all his wisdom and calculated decisions, does not argue. He simply lowers his head, a quiet understanding in his eyes. He’s seen the truth now, just like everyone else. He, too, knows that no one can afford to give Lyall any more influence. The matter is settled.

As the leaders talk amongst themselves, Remus sits in a quiet corner, still reeling from the emotional aftermath of the simulation. His mind is a blur of exhaustion and trauma, but he feels a strange sense of relief. The weight of his father’s manipulation, the fear that had gnawed at him for so long, is no longer something to carry alone. It’s out there now, exposed to the world. The truth has been shared, and it’s made a difference. Lyall’s ambition crumbles in the face of that truth.

Sirius, as always, is by his side, his presence a steady, grounding force. He doesn’t speak much, but he doesn’t need to. He simply remains close, his hand resting lightly on Remus’s shoulder as if offering silent reassurance. Remus leans into him slightly, allowing the comfort of Sirius’s touch to ease some of the tension still tangled within him. The battle has been won, but the war rages on, and Remus knows that the path ahead is far from simple.

Hope approaches him quietly, her footsteps hesitant. Remus turns toward her, his expression weary, but he doesn’t pull away. She stands before him, guilt and regret written all over her face. “Remus,” she says softly, her voice trembling slightly. “I—I’m so sorry. I should’ve spoken up sooner. I didn’t realize… I didn’t see…”

Remus’s exhaustion presses down on him, and he rubs his eyes, trying to push away the fatigue that is starting to overwhelm him. He looks up at her, his heart too tired for anger. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I understand.”

The words come out softer than he intended, the weight of what he’s been through leaving him too drained to argue, too drained to fight. He doesn’t have the energy to revisit everything that’s happened with her, the silence and the indecision. Not now. Maybe not ever. They’ve both been through too much.

Hope swallows, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I was scared, Remus. Scared of losing everything—losing you.”

He nods slowly, acknowledging her words but not quite responding. They’ve both been through their own battles, and their relationship, like the alliance, needs time to heal. Time to rebuild the trust that has been shaken. He doesn’t hate her. He’s just too tired to carry the weight of what’s been left unspoken between them.

The moment hangs in the air, heavy and unresolved, but neither of them presses for more. It’s a quiet understanding that their path toward reconciliation will take time. For now, there are no easy answers.

As the leaders continue their conversation, the room begins to settle. The tension from earlier has started to dissipate, replaced by the quiet hum of conversation and the shared relief that they’ve avoided a dangerous path. For the first time in a long time, Remus feels the weight of the battle begin to lift, if only slightly. The fight isn’t over, but it’s a victory, and in this moment, that’s enough.

One by one, the group starts to come together. The members of the alliance—those who fought, those who have been by their side through it all—begin to gather in quiet groups, talking in low voices, sharing the weight of their relief. There’s a sense of unity, solidified by the truth of what they’ve all just witnessed.

Sirius leans down to Remus’s ear, his voice soft. “We’ve got this, Remus. No matter what comes next, we’ve got each other.”

Remus, despite the exhaustion, manages a small smile, nodding as his hand finds Sirius’s again. It’s not much, but it’s everything.

They’re still here. They’ve made it through this. And for the first time, there’s a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they’ll make it through whatever else comes next.

The future is uncertain, but with their unity, their strength, they stand a chance.

Notes:

LYALL GET TF OUT.

DUMBLEDORE LITERALLY SHUT UP!!

Hope any time would be nice for you to jump in 😐

Remus my babyyyyyy 😭

Chapter 26: Shattered Ties (Sirius' POV)

Sirius sat by Remus’s side, the weight of what had just happened settling heavily in his chest. The fear simulation had just ended, and Remus was still in a state of shock. His body trembled slightly as he slept, his breathing shallow and uneven. Sirius could feel his heart pounding, and even though he knew Remus was asleep, he couldn’t shake the image of the fear simulation from his mind.

It was worse than he could have imagined. The cruelty of Lyall Lupin, Remus’s father, had been exposed in full. The painful memories that Remus had tried to bury, the things he had never wanted anyone to see, were laid bare for the world to witness.

Sirius had always known that Remus had a dark past, but seeing it all, feeling it all through the simulation, was something entirely different. He had never fully understood just how deep the scars ran until he witnessed it in real-time. The pain, the terror, the cruelty—it was sickening.

When Remus collapsed afterward, Sirius had rushed to him, pulling him into his arms without hesitation. The entire room had been silent, heavy with the weight of what had just been revealed. No one spoke, but Sirius didn’t care. His only focus was on Remus—his love, his partner, his friend—who had just been through something unimaginable.

Remus stirred slightly in his sleep, his fingers brushing against Sirius’s hand. He squeezed it gently, offering comfort in the only way he knew how. Even in the aftermath of such a traumatic experience, Remus still sought out the touch of the one person who loved him, who understood him better than anyone.

Sirius’s heart ached at the thought of what Remus had endured. He had never imagined the extent of it. They had been becoming close for so long, and although Remus had told him bits and pieces of his past, this—this was something entirely different. Sirius had seen the nightmares, the quiet moments of fear, but he had never known the full scope of the abuse that had shaped Remus’s life. He had never known just how much his past still haunted him.

Sirius had always been proud of Remus—of his strength, his resilience, the way he kept going despite everything. But today, Remus had done something that Sirius couldn’t have imagined: he had faced his worst fear, exposed the truth, and allowed everyone to see just how much he had suffered. And in doing so, he had exposed the true nature of Lyall Lupin.

Sirius smiled softly as he looked at Remus’s peaceful face. It was hard to imagine that the man lying beside him, so gentle and so kind, had once been forced to endure such horror.

Sirius remembered the first time they had really started to get close. Remus had been so guarded at first, distant in a way that made it seem like there was an invisible wall around him. But Sirius had seen beyond that. He had always known there was more to Remus than he let on—more pain, more fear—but he hadn’t known the full extent. At first, it had been little things: a flinch when someone mentioned family, the way Remus avoided talking about his past. But Sirius had been patient, had given Remus the space he needed to come forward on his own terms.

It had taken time. Weeks. Months. But eventually, Remus had started to open up. Not all at once, not even in a way that made sense, but piece by piece. Slowly, Remus had told him about the nightmares, the isolation, the feeling of being worthless. He had spoken about the emotional scars that were too deep to heal. Sirius had listened, without judgment, without pressure, and had done his best to make Remus feel safe.

And now, seeing Remus take that step—seeing him share his darkest memories with the world—Sirius couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by how far Remus had come.

Remus was stronger than Sirius had ever realized. He was stronger than he gave himself credit for, and even though Remus might never see it that way, Sirius knew the truth. He was so proud of him. He had always been proud, but today, it was different. Today, Remus had shown him just how much strength it took to expose that kind of pain.

Sirius leaned forward and kissed Remus’s forehead, his fingers lightly brushing through his hair. He whispered softly, "I love you, Moony. You're incredible, you know that?"

 

***

 

The room where the friend group had gathered after the simulation was filled with tension. Everyone was still processing what they had just witnessed, and the atmosphere was heavy with disbelief and anger. No one could quite reconcile the man they had trusted—Dumbledore—with the reality of what had just been revealed about Lyall Lupin.

The group was divided. Barty was the most vocal, pacing in agitation. “If anyone dares to side with Lyall now, they’ll regret it,” he said, his tone sharp and cold, the threat clear in his voice. His usual flamboyant attitude was gone, replaced with a grim determination.

Lily and Pandora stood together, arms around each other, trying to process the information as best they could. Lily shook her head, her face pale. “I can’t believe it. How could he do that?” she murmured, looking at Remus, who sat silently next to Sirius, his hand still resting in his boyfriend’s lap.

Pandora spoke, her voice steady but filled with a quiet rage. “It doesn’t matter what Dumbledore thinks. We’ve seen the truth now. Lyall will never lead us.”

Sirius glanced at Regulus and James, who were speaking quietly in the corner. Regulus’s eyes were narrowed, his jaw set in determination. He wasn’t going to let Lyall take control of anything. James was equally resolute, though there was an underlying sadness in his eyes—he had known Remus’s pain, had seen it in glimpses, but today had shown him the full extent of it.

Sirius felt the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him, but he couldn’t focus on it now. Remus needed him. He needed to be here, to hold him, to make sure he felt the love and safety that he had been deprived of for so long.

 

***

 

Later that evening, after the weight of the day had finally begun to settle, the group dispersed into quieter corners, and Sirius found himself alone with Remus in the privacy of their room. The air felt thick with the unspoken, with everything that had happened still hanging between them. Remus, exhausted and emotionally drained, sat quietly with his head resting on Sirius’s chest. His body was still, almost too still, as though he was trying to process everything, trying to breathe through the heaviness that seemed to cling to him.

Sirius held him close, his fingers gently tracing circles on Remus’s back as if to ground him, to remind him that he was here, always.

“You’re so strong, Remus,” Sirius murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, his breath catching as he spoke. “So brave.”

Remus didn’t respond right away, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the quiet rhythm of their breathing, the outside world seemingly forgotten. Remus’s fingers tightened around the fabric of Sirius’s shirt, and Sirius could feel the slight tremble in his body. The rawness of everything that had happened today still lingered, but it was moments like these—when they were close—that reminded them both that they could survive it, together.

Sirius could sense that there were more words Remus wanted to say, but for now, silence felt like the safest option. After a few minutes, Sirius’s voice broke through the stillness, low and thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” he whispered, his words carrying a weight that spoke of love, of pain, and of regret. "I wish I could’ve taken that burden from you."

Remus shifted slightly, lifting his head, his eyes meeting Sirius’s with a quiet intensity. His gaze was heavy, conflicted, but there was something else there—a flicker of relief, of release. For a moment, their eyes held each other, both men feeling the gravity of what had passed between them and what was still to come.

“It’s over now,” Remus whispered, his voice hoarse but firm, as if saying the words aloud gave him the strength to keep moving forward. “The truth is out there. It’s done.”

Sirius felt his chest tighten, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and sorrow. He smiled softly, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from Remus’s forehead. “You did that. You exposed him. You saved us all.”

Remus’s lips parted as though he wanted to respond, but the words never came. Instead, he simply looked at Sirius, and in the silence that stretched between them, it was clear: the bond they shared was unshakable. Despite the horrors of the day, despite the weight of the truth now laid bare, they had each other. And together, they were unstoppable.

Without thinking, Remus reached up, his hands finding Sirius’s face with a tenderness that made Sirius’s breath hitch. There was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of doubt, but then Remus closed the space between them, his lips pressing against Sirius’s in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw and desperate, fueled by everything they had been through, by the fear, the pain, the love. It was a kiss that spoke of all the things neither of them could quite put into words.

Sirius’s hands found their way to Remus’s back, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, wanting to drown out the lingering echoes of everything that had happened. His heart pounded against his chest, but it wasn’t from fear—it was from the overwhelming sense of love he felt for this man. Remus. The man who had shown him what it meant to be truly strong, even when it seemed impossible.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Remus rested his forehead against Sirius’s, his eyes closed, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The world outside seemed so distant, so irrelevant in this moment. All that mattered was the two of them, here, now, finding solace in each other.

“I love you, Moony,” Sirius whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his heart still racing.

Remus opened his eyes and met his gaze, his own voice barely a whisper. “I love you too, Padfoot.”

And for that brief moment, nothing else mattered. They were together, and no matter what the future held, they would face it side by side.

Notes:

Bye Bye Lyall 😏

Sirius' love for Remus 🥹 goals fr

Chapter 27: Blood Code

Regulus had just started to drift off when the emergency alarm cut through the stillness like a blade. His head had been resting on James’s chest, their limbs tangled together beneath the warmth of the sheets. For a moment, he didn’t move, hoping it was a mistake, a false alarm. But James was already sitting up, groaning as the red lights started to pulse across the walls of the compound.

“Emergency meeting,” James muttered, rubbing his face. “Great.”

Regulus didn’t answer. He was already reaching for his boots, his chest tight with a sense of dread that had become all too familiar lately. He met James’s eyes across the room. There was a flicker of shared fear there—because an emergency after a victory usually meant only one thing: retaliation.

They arrived in the control room moments later, the rest of their team filtering in with tired eyes and tense jaws. Minerva was already at the front, arms crossed, face pale. The screen behind her flashed once—then the feed started.

Riddle.

His face took up the entire screen, unnervingly calm. His voice was colder than usual, more deliberate. “Congratulations on your little victory,” he said. “It was amusing to watch from afar. But you didn’t win. Not really.”

He raised a vial between his fingers. It glowed faintly.

“This is the new serum,” he said. “It activates when Divergents refuse to comply. When they resist. When they disobey.”

Another feed began to play. A recorded video.

Dauntless soldiers—young, strong, loyal—stood in formation, expressionless. A voice rang out: “Activate.”

And then, chaos. Soldiers turning their guns on themselves. Slashing at their own throats. Falling like dominoes. Blood spilled in waves.

Regulus looked away, bile rising in his throat. Around him, the others stood frozen in horror. Even Sirius looked pale. Lily reached for Pandora’s hand. Barty swore under his breath.

Minerva’s voice cut through the silence like ice: “We need to shut this down. Now.”

 

***

 

The compound became a frenzy of motion. Pandora, Lily, and Poppy locked themselves in the lab, already running through chemical breakdowns and theories. They needed a countermeasure—fast.

“We’ll test it on me,” Evan said without hesitation when they asked for a volunteer. “I was injected during the fight, right? Use me.”

Poppy’s face went tight with concern. “That serum was different. We’re not sure if it’s the same strain.”

“Then find out,” Evan said. “I’m not afraid.”

It was brave. Stupid, maybe. But Regulus respected it.

While the lab worked, Remus and Sirius combed through battlefield footage, analyzing Erudite's tactics. They found it within hours—small, curved knives laced with a compound. The serum had been spread by blade. Erudite had turned every wound into a potential death sentence.

And it was working.

By afternoon, the first reports came in: a Dauntless guard in the west wing had slit her wrists during a patrol. Another had thrown himself from the catwalk. It was happening—slow, sporadic, and cruel. A shadow creeping in on all of them.

Regulus felt the weight settle in his gut.

He and James sprinted to the Dauntless tech labs. If there was any hope of stopping the signal remotely, it would be through the old surveillance grids—maybe even override the Erudite signal.

They worked for hours. Sweat ran down Regulus’s spine, his fingers blistering as he tore through lines of code. James was beside him, scanning old blueprints and muttering to himself. They shut down three relay points, cut two data chains, and isolated one corrupted node.

But it wasn’t enough.

Reports still came in—five more Dauntless dead. Three more attempts stopped just in time. Dozens more showing signs of influence, their pupils blown wide, their hands shaking.

Regulus stared at the screen.

He felt James’s hand on his shoulder. “We’re doing everything we can,” James said softly.

But Regulus wasn’t so sure.

 

***

 

The halls were quiet, but the silence didn’t feel peaceful—it felt hollow . Like the compound itself was holding its breath.

Regulus wandered through it, steps slow, deliberate. He wasn’t looking for anyone in particular—he just couldn’t sit still. Not after what they’d seen. Not after what they’d failed to stop.

The simulation had not been shut down, it was claiming more lives. Four Dauntless soldiers had died by their own hands before anyone was able to get to them. Four more were injured. One was still unconscious.

Regulus had helped carry one of the bodies himself. He could still feel the weight of it in his arms.

Infirmary lights buzzed as he passed. Inside, Lily and Pandora leaned over a lab table with Poppy, eyes sunken, movements tight with fatigue. Evan lay nearby, pale and still, an IV in his arm, and a cooling pad on his forehead.

Remus and Sirius were in the hallway, bent over a console, deep in tense conversation about distribution methods and contamination tracking. Remus’s hands were trembling. Sirius noticed but said nothing.

Down another corridor, James sat slumped on a bench with his head in his hands. His knuckles were bloody from punching a wall earlier. No one had stopped him.

Regulus stopped walking.

He looked at all of them—his people. His family. Each one worn thin, stretched to their limit, but still standing. Still fighting.

And for what? For a war that Riddle was escalating by the hour. For simulations designed to turn them against themselves. For a serum none of them understood.

Regulus felt something shift inside him.

It wasn’t panic. It wasn’t grief.

It was cold. Steady. Clear.

He realized then— they wouldn’t win this war with defense alone . Not like this. They were always reacting. Always one step behind. And with every hour, more of their people bled for it.

They needed someone on the inside.

Someone who could blend in. Someone who wouldn’t be missed right away. Someone Riddle might trust—just enough to let him close.

Regulus had always been good at pretending.

He swallowed hard, staring down the darkened hallway, his pulse starting to hammer in his ears.

He knew what he had to do.

And he knew no one would let him do it.

Not James. Not Sirius. Not Remus, Lily, Barty, Evan—any of them.

They would fight him on it. They would try to protect him. They would beg him to stay.

But they didn’t see what he saw.

This wasn’t about martyrdom. It wasn’t even about bravery.

It was strategy.

If he could get inside Erudite, he could find out where the serum was coming from. How it was being made. How to stop it. He could get answers—answers they couldn’t get from the outside.

Regulus closed his eyes, just for a moment.

He could still feel James’s warmth on his skin from the night before. Hear his voice in his ear. The quiet laugh, the teasing murmur of his name.

But he pushed it aside.

There would be time for that later.

He just had to survive long enough to come back.

 

***

 

The compound had gone eerily still.

Regulus stood alone in the hallway outside the lab, his face bathed in the sterile blue light coming from the cracked door. Inside, Evan stirred fitfully on a cot, still under observation after the failed antidote attempt. Poppy was asleep in a chair nearby, her head tilted back against the wall, exhaustion written into every line of her face.

They were all so tired. So close to breaking.

And Dauntless soldiers were still dying.

Regulus turned and walked down the hallway without a word. He passed Remus and Sirius’s quarters, the door slightly ajar. Inside, Sirius sat on the floor with Remus in his arms, speaking to him in hushed tones, his face lined with worry. He passed Lily and Pandora curled on a shared cot in the infirmary, their hands tangled together even in sleep. He passed Barty’s door, where a low murmur of music was still playing. And he passed James’s room—his room, too, sometimes—where the lamp was still on, waiting for him.

But Regulus didn’t stop.

He couldn't.

He knew what they would say. That he was reckless. That he was brave. That he was selfish. That he didn’t have to do it alone.

But that was exactly the point.

They would try to stop him. They would put themselves in danger to come with him. And Regulus couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.

So he waited until the compound had gone quiet, until the last light had gone out.

And then, in the early dark before dawn, he packed what he needed: a blade, a serum injector, a false ID, and a single vial of tracer serum to leave behind—proof he had gone willingly.

Before he left, he returned to James’s room.

He stood for a long time at the edge of the bed, watching James sleep. He didn’t touch him. Didn’t wake him.

Instead, he placed a letter on the pillow beside him.

 

***

 

At sunrise, the gates were still locked tight behind him.

No one had seen him go.

He stepped into the abandoned streets of the city, shadows stretching long at his feet, the Erudite skyline in the distance like a jagged wound across the sky.

Regulus didn’t look back.

He couldn’t afford to.

The war wasn’t over. And now, he had work to do.

Notes:

Riddle are you serious rn 🙄

Evan is such a team player fr

REGULUS GET YOUR ASS BACK TO JAMES RN

Chapter 28: A Sacrifice Made

The Erudite compound loomed on the horizon like a jagged wound in the cityscape—sharp, sterile, and buzzing with quiet menace.

Regulus stood at its threshold alone, wind biting at his coat, the chill nothing compared to the fear curling in his chest. His hands were steady, though his heart wasn't. Not really. But this—this was the only move left on the board. The only one that made sense.

He had left the letter folded on James’s pillow before slipping away, written with hands that trembled even though he had already made up his mind. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to write goodbye . Just I love you. Please trust me.

Now, staring up at the polished glass façade of Erudite’s gates, he wondered if he’d ever see James again. The thought almost undid him.

Almost.

But then he closed his eyes and pictured James’s face—soft, golden in the glow of their shared room, laughing like there was still joy to be found in a war-torn world. And that memory steadied him more than anything else could have.

He stepped forward, and the gates opened

 

***

 

Erudite security surrounded him almost instantly, sleek rifles pointed, their blue uniforms pristine and unyielding.

“I’m here to speak with Tom Riddle,” Regulus said, his voice calm, clear. “Tell him Regulus Black has come to make a deal.”

They didn’t lower their weapons, but they didn’t shoot either.

Within minutes, he was marched down the cold, echoing corridors of the Erudite HQ. The walls were steel and silence. The kind of place that made your skin itch if you thought too long about what might be happening behind the doors.

Finally, he was ushered into a room with dim blue lighting, and there—seated like a king at the head of a long, immaculate table—was Tom Riddle.

He looked up with interest, lips curling into a smile that never reached his eyes.

“Regulus Black,” he said, as if tasting the name. “How bold of you to walk into the lion’s den.”

Regulus said nothing at first. He stared him down, every instinct screaming to run, but he stood his ground. “End the suicide command.”

Riddle’s smile widened, amused. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m offering myself in exchange. You want someone valuable? I’m yours. Just shut it down.”

For a long moment, Riddle didn’t reply. He simply watched him, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Then, softly, he said, “You’re not as predictable as your brother.”

Regulus’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t about him.”

“No,” Riddle agreed, rising slowly to his feet. “It’s about you. And what you’re willing to become for the people you love.”

He circled Regulus like a snake, voice almost purring. “You fascinate me, you know. So quiet. So strategic. So willing to disappear to win. A rare combination.”

Regulus didn’t flinch, didn’t speak.

“You’ll get your wish,” Riddle said at last. “The command ends now. But understand, Regulus—your sacrifice isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning.”

A chill crawled up Regulus’s spine.

Riddle gestured, and a figure stepped from the shadows behind him—tall, lean, dressed in black. Eyes dark and unreadable.

“Severus,” Riddle said. “Show our guest to his quarters.”

 

***

 

The walk through the lower levels was silent, Severus Snape leading the way like a wraith. Regulus tried not to show any weakness, but his mind was spinning.

It had worked. The command would end. People would live.

But at what cost?

Snape stopped before a small metal door and opened it without a word.

“This is your room,” he said, voice devoid of emotion.

Regulus stepped inside.

It was barely a room at all. Four cement walls. No windows. A thin mattress on the floor. No furniture. No light switch. Just an overhead bulb humming faintly.

A cell.

“Do you enjoy doing this?” Regulus asked, breaking the silence.

Snape didn’t look at him. “Enjoyment isn’t part of the job.”

“And what is? Obedience? Loyalty?”

Snape met his gaze then, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Survival.”

He shut the door behind him.

Regulus stood there, staring at the concrete walls, the silence pressing in.

He had done it. He had stopped the bloodshed. Protected his people.

And now he was gone.

To them, to James—he was gone.

He sank slowly to the floor, back against the wall, eyes burning but dry.

No tears.

Not now.

He would hold onto the memory of James. Of laughter around the fire. Of hands brushing his. Of voices raised in chaotic harmony.

He would hold onto it until Riddle broke him—or until he found a way to break Riddle first.

Notes:

Oop and enter Snape 👀

Ugh poor Reg (you literally caused this tho)

Chapter 29: The Storm Brews (James' POV)

The letter was still warm in James’s hand, though the sun had shifted in the sky, hours having slipped by since Regulus had vanished. He sat motionless at the edge of the table, the paper trembling between his fingers, his eyes locked on the familiar handwriting scrawled across the page. He’d read the words a hundred times already, maybe more, but they still stole the breath from his lungs.

I’m doing this because I have to. Because I love you. Because I know you’ll try to stop me, and I can’t let you. Please don’t waste time being angry. Just stop Riddle. Just survive.

Each line dug deeper, like a slow blade carving through his chest. He could see Regulus’s face as he wrote it—steady, sad, resolved. James imagined him slipping out in the middle of the night, the letter left folded with care on the bed, one final touch before walking away. Alone.

James’s grip on the letter tightened, the edge crumpling beneath his fingers as if he could crush the truth with enough pressure.

Then— crack.

The sound tore through the room like a gunshot. James turned sharply in time to see Sirius stumble back from the wall, blood blooming across his knuckles, the plaster dented and crumbling around the point of impact.

“Sirius!” Remus rushed to him, catching his wrist before he could lash out again. “Stop. You’re bleeding—look at me.”

But Sirius didn’t meet his eyes. His shoulders were heaving, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. He stood frozen for a moment, the anger still vibrating beneath his skin, before his voice cracked under the weight of the words.

“He went alone…” Sirius whispered, barely audible. “He just—he just left.”

The rawness in his voice shattered something in James. Sirius Black didn’t cry . He didn’t beg . But in that moment, he folded into Remus’s arms like a man unraveling. Remus pulled him close, pressing Sirius’s face into his shoulder, whispering quiet reassurances as Sirius’s body trembled with grief.

No one in the room moved. No one breathed. The fury had drained from Sirius’s posture, leaving behind something far worse—grief, helpless and open.

James stared down at the letter again, the paper warped now from the sweat of his palms, the corners bent and smeared. He felt like he was outside his own body, floating just beyond the pain, the horror of it all too large to hold at once.

Regulus had walked away from everything. From him. From them. From safety. To trade himself for the lives of strangers.

To walk willingly into Riddle’s hands.

A sharp, nauseating fear began to claw up James’s throat.

He should’ve known. Should’ve stopped him. Regulus had been quieter than usual the past few days, his silences deeper, more weighted. James had told himself it was the trauma from the simulation—the stress, the chaos. He hadn’t wanted to believe there was something more.

But Regulus had made up his mind. And James hadn’t seen it until it was too late.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” James whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.

Remus finally looked over at him, his arms still wrapped around Sirius, who had gone silent, his eyes red and distant.

“Because he knew you’d stop him,” Remus said gently. “He knew you’d throw yourself in front of him. And he couldn’t risk that.”

The words sank deep, landing in the center of James’s chest like a stone dropped into water. It didn’t dull the pain—it only confirmed it. Regulus had gone not because he didn’t love James, but because he did.

That knowledge didn’t make it any easier to bear.

James sat back slowly, dropping his head into his hands. The letter lay beside him on the table, fragile and too light for the devastation it carried.

“I told him we’d figure it out together,” James murmured, voice breaking. “No matter what. I told him I’d protect him.”

Remus didn’t answer right away. When he finally did, his voice was soft. “And now we protect him by getting him back.”

“Right,” Barty said, breaking the silence with a forced burst of energy. “We need disguises. We’re going into Erudite, and we’re not going in looking like ourselves.”

Evan raised an eyebrow. “Disguises?”

“Yeah,” Barty said, starting to pace. “I’ll slick my hair back, throw on a ridiculous cloak, scowl a lot—boom, I’m Riddle. We blend in, cause a distraction, get Regulus, get out.”

Evan crossed his arms. “That man doesn’t scowl. He preens. Like he’s in a perpetual perfume ad for sociopaths.”

Barty cracked the faintest smile. “You’re not wrong. I’ll need one of those dramatic high-collared coats. Maybe something velvet. And a knife I can twirl menacingly.”

“I’ll go as Bellatrix,” Evan said dryly. “Black wig, insane eye contact, and a fake sneer. Easy.”

Lily snorted softly. “You’re forgetting the hunched posture. And the insane laughter.”

Pandora added, “Do we have any snakes? It feels like they’d let you in faster if you had a snake.”

Barty nodded. “I’ll name it Trauma.”

“Guys,” James said, his voice quiet but firm.

No one heard him. They were still pushing through the fear with jokes, trying to stay afloat.

“I could be one of the creepy lab techs,” Pandora offered. “Just need a white coat and a haunted expression.”

“Guys,” James said again, sharper this time. “Stop.”

The room fell still. The tension snapped back into place like a rubber band stretched too far.

Barty looked at him, startled. Evan’s hands froze mid-gesture. Even Sirius, curled on the couch with Remus at his side, looked up, his eyes bloodshot.

James’s hands were shaking, the letter trembling between his fingers.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice tight. “We’re not just playing dress-up. He’s gone. He left. Alone. And every second we waste not taking that seriously is another second he’s out there, thinking he’s going to die for us.”

The silence was deep now—uncomfortable, aching.

James looked around at all of them, his friends, his family. People who had fought beside him, bled beside him. People who would follow him into hell if he asked.

But this? This was different. Because the person they needed to save was someone James would burn the world down for.

“We’ll use disguises if that’s what it takes,” he said, softer now. “But we plan. We’re smart. We’re careful. No rushing in, no half-baked heroics.”

He looked over at Sirius, who was still curled into Remus, his face pressed to his shoulder, silent tears streaking down his cheeks. Remus met James’s eyes and gave the smallest nod. He understood.

“We get him back,” James said. “All of us. But we do it right.”

This time, no one disagreed.

 

***

 

They gathered around the table in the penthouse war room. The air crackled with urgency.

Lily spread a map of the Erudite sector across the wood. “We don’t have schematics, but based on Sirius’ time in Erudite and what we know from previous raids, these are the likely entry points.”

“I can start building an infiltration route,” Barty offered. “We’ll need more than one way in and out. If they’re using Regulus as leverage, he’ll be heavily guarded.”

“I’ll talk to Poppy,” Lily said. “We’ll need medical backup ready for anything. Who knows what they’ve done to him already.”

“Remus and I can keep digging into the serum logistics,” Sirius said, voice hoarse. “The suicide command might be off, but that doesn’t mean they’re done using it.”

James nodded. “We’re going in. But we’re going in prepared.”

There was no debate. No joking. No laughter.

Only the sound of a team rebuilding its armor.

 

***

 

The letter trembled in James’s hands, the edges worn now from how many times he’d unfolded it, like some part of him believed the words might change if he read them again.

I’m doing this because I have to. Because I love you. Because I know you’ll try to stop me, and I can’t let you. Please don’t waste time being angry. Just stop Riddle. Just survive.

His breath caught in his throat.

James blinked hard, but the tears still came—slow, stubborn things that tracked down his cheeks and soaked into the collar of his shirt. He curled into himself where he sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the letter like a lifeline. His fingers shook.

“I would’ve gone with you,” he whispered into the quiet room. “You didn’t have to go alone.”

But of course Regulus had known he’d say that. That’s why he’d left the way he did. That’s why he hadn’t said goodbye face-to-face. Because James would’ve stopped him. Or at least tried.

The ache in his chest pulsed deep and hollow, like a bruise that reached all the way to his bones. His vision blurred again, and this time, James let himself cry.

He folded forward, pressing the letter against his forehead, biting back a sob. His whole body shook with it—frustration, heartbreak, fear all twisting together. He wasn’t ready to lose Regulus. He never would be.

The bed dipped slightly under his weight, the only warmth left in the room coming from the spot Regulus used to sleep. James reached blindly for the pillow Regulus always used, clutching it to his chest like it could fill the absence.

“I love you, Reg,” he whispered, barely audible even to himself.

He lay back slowly, curling toward the pillow, eyes still damp. The letter rested against his chest like a second heartbeat, fragile and full of everything left unsaid.

Sleep took him slowly, pulling him under with the weight of exhaustion and grief.

And as the world faded, James dreamed of silver eyes, a soft voice, and a hand that once held his so tightly it felt like forever.

 

***

 

They were in bed after the battle. The city below was still smoking, but above them, the sky was clear. Regulus had curled into James’s side, warm and quiet and real.

“I used to think I’d never make it out of this alive,” Regulus had whispered, his fingers trailing over James’s ribs. “I never planned for after.”

James had smiled into his hair. “You’ve got time now. Start planning.”

Regulus tilted his head up. “What if my plan is you?”

James had kissed him so deeply then that the world had disappeared.

Now, James woke and stared up at the ceiling, letting the silence crush him.

 

***

 

The next morning, he and Remus stood outside the balcony overlooking the Dauntless compound.

They hadn’t said much. Didn’t need to.

“He told me once,” Remus said softly, “that he admired you. For how easily you love people. How deeply. He said you were the bravest person he knew.”

James exhaled slowly. “He’s wrong. He’s the brave one. I just follow my heart and hope it doesn’t kill me.”

Remus looked at him then, eyes tired and heavy with understanding. “You feel helpless now, don’t you?”

James nodded.

“I know what that’s like,” Remus said. “Watching the person you love choose something you know might destroy them, and being unable to stop it.”

They stood there in shared grief. And shared resolve.

“We’ll bring him back,” James said finally. “We have to.”

 

***

 

Minerva listened to their plan in silence. Then, slowly, she closed the folder of mission notes and set it down.

“I know I should stop you,” she said, her voice quiet. “Tell you it’s too dangerous. That it risks everything we’ve built.”

James’s heart sank.

“But I won’t,” she added. “Because I knew Regulus when he was a boy. I knew him when he was just a scared teenager with eyes too sharp and a heart too guarded. And I’ve seen the man he’s become.”

She looked at James. “He’s become that man because of you. Bring him home.”

 

***

 

The team moved like shadows through the Dauntless headquarters, preparing.

Sirius and Barty coordinated supply drops and distraction routes.

Lily rigged the comms system and programmed two emergency fallback options.

Remus managed their intelligence tracking, pulling surveillance data from every nearby sector.

James hovered between them all, checking and rechecking the map, memorizing guard schedules, rerouting exits, breathing like it was the only thing keeping him from shattering.

Later, in the privacy of his room, he pressed his lips to Regulus’s letter and whispered, “We’re coming for you.”

Because they were.

And nothing—not even Riddle—could stop the storm that was coming.

Notes:

Ahhh protective James and Sirius

Aww poor Sirius 😭

James crying really just makes me cry 😭

Chapter 30: Mind Games

The walls of his cell were made of concrete—four identical slabs, unmarked and cold, like they had been poured from the same mold that shaped his nightmares. There was nothing in the room. Just a corner that stayed dry when the pipe in the ceiling leaked. Regulus sat there now, knees drawn up to his chest, head tilted against the wall like he could listen for something beyond it. Something real. Something human.

He didn’t sleep. Not really. He dozed, he drifted, he slipped in and out of grey consciousness like a man floating beneath ice. Time was impossible to track. Meals arrived irregularly, just enough to keep his stomach on edge, just enough to keep him weak.

There were no windows. No clocks. Just the buzz of fluorescent lights and the occasional hum of an intercom that never spoke.

But the silence didn’t last.

They came for him again.

Riddle never appeared in person first. It was always the guards—expressionless in black and grey, faces obscured. They dragged him down long hallways that smelled like chemicals and metal, his bare feet slipping on polished tile. He didn’t ask where they were taking him anymore. He already knew.

The interrogation room was empty when he was thrown inside.

Then the door opened.

And Regulus froze.

“Hello, darling,” said Walburga Black, her voice silk over steel.

She looked older, sharper than he remembered. Her black robes fit her like a shroud. And standing just behind her was Orion—tall, quiet, with the same unreadable expression he always wore when Regulus had disappointed him.

Which had been often.

Regulus felt ice crawl up his spine. For a split second, he thought he might be sick.

They stood across from him like statues in a gallery. Not parents. Not anymore. Not really.

“We were told you’d come,” Walburga said smoothly. “We’re proud of you, you know. Doing the noble thing. Sacrificing for the cause.”

Regulus said nothing. His heart thudded dully against his ribs.

“This is the boy I raised,” Orion added, voice low and clipped. “Not that disgrace of a brother you always trailed after.”

Regulus’s jaw clenched.

“We never wanted to see you suffer,” Walburga went on, stepping closer. “You just needed discipline. Direction. And now look—Riddle respects you. You’ve finally earned what Sirius never could.”

His hands curled into fists.

There was a time when those words would have shattered him. A time when he would’ve bled himself dry for even a flicker of praise. He remembered sitting on the stairs as a child, listening to them insult Sirius behind closed doors and wondering—hoping—if maybe, someday, they’d talk about him like that too.

But now?

Now it made him burn.

“You don’t get to say that to me,” Regulus said, voice shaking. “You lost the right a long time ago.”

Walburga raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“You abused us,” he said. “You broke us. You turned every room into a battlefield and called it love.”

Orion’s lips thinned. “Watch your tone, boy.”

“What are you going to do?” Regulus snapped. “Ground me? Beat me like you used to? You’re not parents. You’re monsters who taught me to hate myself before I could even understand who I was.”

There was a pause. And then Walburga’s face twisted into something cruel and cold.

“You think that boy of yours made you strong?” she hissed. “Sirius made you weak. He poisoned you with softness. With shame.”

Regulus didn’t flinch. “He saved me.”

The door opened again.

This time, it was Riddle.

He stepped inside like a shadow, his presence immediately sucking the warmth from the air. He didn’t look at the Blacks. Only at Regulus.

“Touching reunion,” he said dryly. “Family bonds are such a complicated thing.”

Regulus glared at him, chest rising and falling.

Riddle smiled thinly.

“You’ll be happy to know,” he said, tone casual, “that your sacrifice made quite the statement. So much so that your dear brother attempted to follow in your footsteps.”

Regulus blinked. A strange, icy feeling spread through his chest.

“What are you talking about?”

Riddle tilted his head. “Sirius broke into Erudite the morning after you arrived. Alone. Attempting to rescue you I assume. Foolish, really. He was caught almost immediately. Shot on sight.”

Regulus’s heart stopped.

“You’re lying.”

Riddle shrugged, as if the outcome bored him. “I didn’t even get to see him myself. Pity. But that’s what recklessness gets you.”

The words hit like a physical blow. Regulus staggered back a step, his breath catching.

No.

No.

He shook his head.

“You’re lying,” he whispered again, weaker this time. “He wouldn’t—he’s not—”

But the image was already there. Sirius. Reckless and brave and furious. Charging in alone. Getting caught. Getting—no.

No.

He stumbled.

The guards grabbed him by the arms, dragging him from the room.

He didn’t fight them. He didn’t even speak.

The world was white noise.

They threw him back into the cell. The door slammed behind him.

He lay on the floor for a long time, his chest heaving with silent sobs, fists pressed to his eyes.

Sirius was gone.

His brother. The one person who had always been there, even when Regulus tried to push him away.

He thought he could handle anything they threw at him.

But not this.

Not this.

He curled into himself, the cold of the floor sinking into his bones.

And for the first time since stepping into Erudite, Regulus cried—not for himself.

But for Sirius.

Notes:

Riddle 🖕🖕

Oh and also Walburga and Orion 🖕🖕

Chapter 31: The Depths Of Despair

The light never changed in the cell.

There were no clocks, no windows, no shadows moving across the wall to mark time—only the cold, humming silence and the occasional flicker of the fluorescent bulb above his head. It was impossible to tell if it was day or night, impossible to know how long he’d been in Erudite’s clutches. Hours bled into days. Days into something darker.

Regulus sat curled in the farthest corner, arms wrapped tight around his knees. The cement beneath him was cold enough to bite through skin. His body ached in too many places to count, and his mind—his mind was fraying.

The simulations were relentless. Riddle wanted a serum that could penetrate Divergence, and Regulus, resistant and stubborn and already marked as an anomaly, was the perfect experiment. The only experiment.

Each session was worse than the last. Needles laced with prototypes of something more invasive than truth serum, more insidious than fear gas. Hooks into the mind. Loops of pain, synthetic fear, synthetic grief. But the worst simulations didn’t make his heart race—they slowed it. They made him relive silence. Loneliness. Loss.

They made him hear Sirius’s voice again and again.

“You should have come back sooner.”

“You never loved me the way I loved you.”

“You let me die.”

Riddle had told him Sirius was dead. Killed trying to break into Erudite the day after Regulus surrendered. They showed him footage—distorted, grainy images of someone that looked like Sirius falling under a hail of bullets. They played it for him on loop. Over and over and over until the edges of the screen blurred with tears and blood.

And even though some small, desperate part of him clung to doubt, to the faintest possibility that it was another lie—Regulus believed it.

It was easier than hope.

He dragged a hand through his hair, greasy and damp with sweat, and leaned his head against the wall. His fingers trembled, twitching like they couldn’t decide what to do. No bruises marked his face today—Snape, cold and clinical, said they were trying a new method. Fewer physical punishments. More internal pressure. Break the mind, not the body.

He laughed once, low and bitter. “Good luck with that,” he whispered hoarsely.

But even that sounded hollow now.

What strength did he have left, really?

He thought of Sirius—his brother’s wicked grin, his terrible fashion sense, the way he threw himself between danger and the people he loved without a second thought. Sirius had always burned like a star, reckless and radiant and stubborn to a fault.

Regulus had hated him for it. Envied him.

And yet, the last time they’d spoken—really spoken—he had softened. Sirius had pulled him into a hug. Called him “Reg.” Said he was proud.

Now he was dead.

Regulus pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars. “I should have told you I loved you,” he muttered. “I should have said it more. Should’ve made it count.”

He’d wasted so much time. Spent years trying to unlearn what their parents had carved into them with silence and rules and shame. He’d pushed Sirius away. Dismissed him. Let pride keep him at a distance when all either of them had ever wanted was a family.

And now he was here. Trapped. Alone. And Sirius was—

No. He couldn’t think the word again. Not right now.

The door to his cell groaned open, and his whole body tensed.

Two guards entered first. Then the silence broke.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Riddle.

He stepped into the cell like he owned the place—which, Regulus supposed, he did. His coat swished behind him, pristine and sharp against the stained gray walls. His eyes, pale and reptilian, swept over Regulus like he was something pinned under glass.

“Still alive,” Riddle mused. “Still resisting.”

Regulus didn’t answer.

“Do you know how fascinating you are, Regulus?” he continued, stepping closer. “You’ve resisted over sixteen trials now. Your brain chemistry doesn’t react like the others. You’re not just Divergent. You’re something more. A new evolution.”

“Glad I could disappoint you,” Regulus croaked.

Riddle crouched in front of him, unnervingly calm. “Disappoint? No. This is exactly what I hoped for.”

Regulus turned his face away, jaw clenched.

“You know,” Riddle said thoughtfully, “we always suspected your brother had similar... resistance. Shame about him, really. Brave, but foolish. Running into fire just to save you.” He tsked. “A waste of good genetics.”

“Shut up.”

“You should be grateful. His death gave you meaning. A sacrifice that will pave the way to scientific revolution.”

Regulus’s fists curled. He wanted to scream. To claw Riddle’s eyes out. To make him bleed for every lie, every trick, every stolen dream.

But instead, he forced himself still. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Riddle rose. “Let’s continue tomorrow. I think we’ll push the threshold again. Try a full immersion. And maybe, if you’re lucky, we’ll let you dream of him.”

He left the room with the same eerie quiet he brought with him.

The door slammed shut.

Regulus collapsed.

His forehead hit his knees. His breath hitched. For the first time in what felt like days, he cried—silently, bitterly. The kind of cry that came from something deeper than pain. The kind that hollowed you out from the inside.

Sirius. I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry.

He didn’t even know what for anymore—just that if he could trade places, if he could rewind time, if he could say all the things he never said—he would.

But the past was gone. And now all he had were ghosts and cold concrete.

The cell was quiet again.

But in the back of his mind, a memory stirred.

A flicker of a campfire in Dauntless. A smile across the room. Fingers brushing against his under the table. James’s laugh. Sirius’s cackle. Lily’s warm eyes. Remus sketching in the corner. Barty singing off-key. Evan throwing popcorn at him. Pandora bringing him tea. The family he found in the ashes.

And James.

James, who loved him.

James, who would move heaven and earth to find him.

If he was still alive.

Regulus bit his lip, hard, and tasted copper.

I have to hold on. Just a little longer.

He lay back against the wall, staring at the flickering light, the ache of loss threatening to swallow him whole.

But he was still here.

And Riddle hadn’t broken him yet.

Not yet.

Notes:

Awww, poor Reg 😭 hang in there bud

Chapter 32: Preparing (James' POV)

James hadn’t slept properly in days.

Not since the letter. Not since the silence that followed. Not since the space in his bed where Regulus should’ve been had gone cold and stayed cold. Every breath felt tight in his chest, like something heavy had settled there and refused to move.

But there was no time to grieve.

There was only planning. There was only the mission.

The table in the middle of the room was covered in maps, schematics, hastily scrawled notes. He stood at the center of it all, fingers smudged with ink, circles under his eyes dark and deep. His usual humor was gone—buried beneath the sheer force of his focus.

“We enter here,” James said, pointing at the south sector of the Erudite headquarters on the blueprint. “That’s the only section without constant security rotation.”

“Assuming it hasn’t changed,” Remus said quietly from across the table.

James didn’t flinch. “It hasn’t. It’s the same route Regulus would have used when he turned himself in.”

Remus exchanged a glance with Lily, who nodded grimly.

Sirius, slouched in a chair with a grim expression, tapped a spot on the map with a chewed-up pencil. “And the east wing? Where the labs are?”

“Locked down,” Barty muttered. “We’ll need one hell of a distraction.”

Sirius's eyes were hollow, bloodshot. He hadn’t been the same since Regulus left, and now, sitting here, planning a rescue that could get them all killed—he looked like he was barely holding it together.

James could relate.

“I can handle a distraction,” Lily said, rolling up her sleeves. “You just need to tell me where and when.”

“And I’ll go with her,” Barty added. “We’ll cause a scene so chaotic they won’t notice James waltzing in to grab his boyfriend.”

“Not waltzing,” James corrected, jaw tight. “Running. Fast. With a weapon in each hand.”

There was a beat of silence.

Sirius let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “That’s the Potter way.”

“Is there any other?” James tried to grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

The room fell quiet again.

The truth loomed large in the center of the room, unspoken but undeniable.

Time was running out.

Every hour Regulus remained in Erudite’s grasp was another hour of torment. Of experiments. Of lies. And James couldn’t stand the thought of what he might look like now—thin, pale, hurting. He couldn’t bear the image of Regulus in pain, alone, thinking he’d been abandoned.

“I should’ve stopped him,” James said suddenly. The words fell out like a confession. “I should’ve known he’d do something reckless.”

“There wasn’t anything you could have done,” Remus said gently.

“He didn’t even say goodbye to me in person,” James whispered. “Just a letter. A damn letter.”

“He thought it was the only way to protect us,” Sirius said hoarsely. “And you know what? It probably was.”

James looked down at his hands. They were shaking.

“I’m going to get him back,” he said, quieter now. “I have to.”

Lily walked around the table and rested a hand on his shoulder. “We all are.”

Barty nodded. “For Regulus.”

“For all of us,” Remus added.

James looked at each of them. His family. The people who had stood by him through war and loss and pain. They would fight beside him now. And they would bring Regulus home.

He felt it like a promise in his bones.

They spent the next several hours finalizing the plan. Who would go where. What supplies they needed. When they would move. Everyone played a part. Everyone had a role.

James only had one focus: Regulus.

And when the sun dipped below the horizon, and the penthouse grew quiet again, James found himself alone at the window, staring out at the Erudite skyline in the distance. Somewhere beyond those buildings, beyond the shimmering lights and sterile walls, the person he loved most was being broken piece by piece.

He closed his eyes.

And when he finally drifted off on the couch—still in his clothes, arms folded tightly over his chest—sleep came sharp and cruel.

In the dream, it was raining.

Not like real rain, but something heavier, louder—like the sound of water hitting steel. He was in a hallway, dark and flickering with strobe lights, red alarms wailing in the distance. He was running, heart hammering, boots slipping on blood-slick tiles.

He turned a corner and found Regulus.

On the ground.

Bleeding.

“Regulus—” James fell to his knees. “No. No, no, no—look at me—”

Regulus opened his eyes slowly. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” James sobbed. “I’m here now, I’m going to get you out, I—”

“It’s too late,” Regulus whispered. “You were too late.”

“No—no, please—”

Regulus lifted a shaking hand, brushing it against James’s cheek. “I love you.”

And then his body went still.

James woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat, his heart in his throat.

The living room was quiet. Moonlight bled in through the windows. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

But then he remembered.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

Regulus wasn’t dead.

Not yet.

James sat up slowly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. He swallowed hard, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

“I’m coming for you, Regulus,” he whispered into the silence. “Just hold on.”

And somewhere, far away, something in the universe seemed to hear him.

Notes:

James is the best, I hate that he feels guilty 😭

Also the nightmare 💔

Chapter 33: The Erudite Simulations

The first time the new simulation started, Regulus didn’t even realize it was fake.

It began in a cold corridor that reeked of antiseptic and blood. The lighting flickered above him like a heartbeat, steady and foreboding. He was barefoot, shirtless, the rough ground biting into his skin with each trembling step. His hands were bound behind him, metal biting into raw wrists.

“Where am I?” he rasped.

There was no answer. Only a low hum, like something mechanical and alive.

Then came the screams.

Not his.

Sirius’s.

Regulus froze.

The sound of his brother screaming was unmistakable, burned into his bones from memories he tried to forget. But it couldn’t be real. Sirius was dead.

Riddle had said so.

Still… it sounded real . Too real.

He broke into a run, sprinting down the corridor, the lights flashing faster, faster, until they were a strobe. At the end of the hallway was a door.

He shoved through it—and found a room drenched in blood.

Sirius hung from chains, eyes swollen shut, barely breathing.

“ Sirius! ” Regulus screamed, running to him.

But when he reached for his brother, the body crumbled into ash in his hands.

And the walls began to close in.

Regulus jolted back to consciousness, screaming, the wires pulling at his skin. He was strapped down on the simulation table, breath hitching, tears running hot down his cheeks.

Riddle stood behind the glass, calm as ever, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

“Again,” he said.

Severus didn’t move.

Riddle glanced at him. “ Again, Severus.”

The man gave a slight nod and reset the system.

“No—please,” Regulus gasped. “No— not again— ”

But the world was already dissolving.

 

***

 

The second time, it was James.

Regulus stood in a white room, the floor smooth and cold beneath his bare feet. James sat across from him at a table, eyes soft, smiling.

“You made it back,” James said, reaching for his hand.

Regulus took it. It felt warm. Solid.

“I missed you,” James whispered.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Regulus said, his throat tight with emotion.

Then James’s expression shifted—just slightly.

“I waited, you know,” he said, still holding Regulus’s hand. “Waited for you to come home. But you never did.”

Regulus blinked. “I didn’t have a choice—”

“You did,” James interrupted, voice colder now. “You chose them . You chose to leave me.”

Regulus’s chest caved inward. “No. That’s not true. I was trying to save you—”

“You failed.”

James’s skin turned gray.

His eyes melted into darkness.

“You let me die.”

Regulus screamed and tried to pull away, but James’s grip turned to iron, his mouth stretching into a horrible grin.

“You left me.”

The world shattered.

 

***

 

He woke again, sobbing.

“Vitals unstable,” someone said in the distance.

“He’s weakening,” another voice replied.

Riddle stepped into view, arms crossed behind his back. “Still he resists.”

“He’s not going to last much longer,” Severus said coolly. “You’ve overused the simulations. His nervous system is—”

“I don’t care,” Riddle snapped. “He’s the only Divergent we’ve had in years that’s withstood this many sessions. I will make this serum work on his kind, and he is going to help me—whether he wants to or not.”

Regulus trembled. His limbs felt like fire. His vision swam. There was blood in his mouth and static in his ears. But still, he met Riddle’s gaze.

“You’re never going to win,” he whispered.

Riddle tilted his head, amused. “Oh, Regulus. I already have.”

He turned and walked out of the chamber, leaving Regulus half-conscious on the slab of metal they called a bed.

 

***

 

Days passed.

Or maybe it was hours.

Time bled together inside those gray walls. No sun. No sky. Only concrete and shadows and pain.

Regulus didn’t speak anymore unless he had to. He saved his strength for the simulations. For fighting back. But each one took more of him. Left him emptier. More hollowed out.

His ribs showed through his skin. His lips were cracked. His eyes—once sharp and calculating—were dulled by exhaustion and grief.

He thought of Sirius constantly. Of James. Of the others. And every time he remembered what Riddle had said—that Sirius had died trying to save him—he felt like something in his chest shattered all over again.

I never even said goodbye to him.

He’d always told himself there’d be time. That Sirius knew how he felt, even if he didn’t say it every day. But now… now there was nothing. Just a blank space in the world where his brother had been. Where warmth had lived.

Regulus pressed his forehead to the wall of his cell and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He said it over and over again.

Not to Riddle.

Not to himself.

To Sirius.

And to James.

Because he’d never see them again.

 

***

 

Then came the worst simulation yet.

It didn’t start with blood or screams.

It started with home.

He was in the Black family library. The fire was crackling. His father sat in the armchair by the hearth, reading. His mother was by the window, sipping tea.

Regulus stood there, dressed in fine robes, a book clutched in his hand.

“You’ve done well,” Orion said, not looking up. “We’re proud of you.”

Walburga smiled softly. “You did what your brother couldn’t. You protected your legacy.”

Regulus’s skin went cold.

“No,” he said.

His mother’s smile didn’t falter. “You’re finally who we raised you to be.”

Regulus shook his head. “You’re not real.”

Walburga stood, walking toward him. “We always loved you, Regulus. You were our perfect son.”

“No.”

She touched his face.

“You belong with us. Not with him. ”

Regulus swatted her hand away. “Don’t talk about Sirius—”

“Oh, you mean the disgrace?” Orion sneered. “He’s dead. You know that, don’t you? You saw it.”

Something inside Regulus snapped.

He screamed and shoved the vision of his father to the ground. Books flew off shelves. The fire flared unnaturally bright. Walburga began to laugh.

It echoed around him, becoming a thousand voices in one.

“You’ll never be free of us.”

“Never.”

“Never.”

The world twisted again.

And he was back in the cell, collapsed on the floor, sobbing so hard his ribs ached.

 

***

 

Severus came hours later.

Or days.

Regulus didn’t know anymore.

The man crouched beside him, holding out a water bottle. “Drink.”

Regulus stared at it.

Then took it.

It tasted of copper and chemicals, but it was water. It was something.

“You’re not dead yet,” Severus said quietly.

“Why do you care?” Regulus rasped.

“I don’t,” he said. “But you should.”

Regulus leaned his head back against the wall. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

Severus studied him for a long time.

Then, in a low voice, he said, “You’re not alone. Not really.”

Regulus looked at him sharply. “What did you say?”

But Severus was already standing.

He left the cell without another word.

 

***

 

That night, Regulus curled into himself in the corner of his cell. His muscles ached. His mind swam. He was nothing but skin and bone and broken dreams.

But still, deep down, there was a flicker.

A tiny ember.

He hadn’t broken.

Not yet.

And until he did—until the last piece of him was gone—Riddle hadn’t won.

And that meant something.

Even if it was all he had left.

Notes:

Poor baby 😭

Also... Snape what's that about 🤨

Chapter 34: The Spy (Severus' POV)

Severus had learned long ago how to hide in plain sight.

In Erudite, power came in sharp words, perfect posture, and an unshakable belief in logic over morality. Severus had adopted the mask with precision, carving away the parts of himself that felt too much. It was the only way to survive in a place like this—and the only way to help anyone else survive, too.

He adjusted the cuffs of his coat as he strode through the sterile halls of Erudite HQ, the click of his boots echoing on the polished floor. To the others, he was Riddle’s most trusted scientist. Cold. Efficient. Unquestioning.

And he hated himself for how easily they believed it.

The surveillance station loomed ahead. He passed it without a glance. His face was a familiar one here—unremarkable in its severity. No one suspected him. That was his gift. His curse.

Today, that curse was finally useful.

He entered Lab Sector 9 and immediately sensed the tension.

Behind the observation glass, Regulus Black was restrained in the simulation chamber. His face was pale, gaunt, his wrists bruised from too many sessions. The latest experiment had lasted nearly an hour. Too long. Far too long.

Severus turned away before anyone could catch the flicker of emotion in his eyes.

Riddle didn’t just want to break the boy—he wanted to understand him. To unravel Divergence and reshape it into something he could control. That’s what this had all become: control. Power. Fear disguised as science.

But Regulus had something even Riddle didn’t understand.

Conviction.

Severus had watched it grow in him. Not loud like Sirius’s fire. No, Regulus burned like a coal—quiet, persistent, unyielding. And now, even after everything they’d done to him, he refused to shatter.

The door opened behind Severus. A technician entered with a clipboard and a blank expression.

“The subject's heart rate spiked above threshold again,” the tech said. “He should’ve passed out. But he didn’t.”

Severus didn’t answer at first. He only nodded, eyes fixed on the monitor. The scans showed strain bordering on lethal. One more simulation like the last and Regulus wouldn’t make it.

“I’ll recalibrate the sequence myself,” Severus said sharply. “We’re not trying to kill him. Not yet.”

The technician hesitated. “Sir—Riddle gave orders to push—”

“And if you kill him, what will we push?” Severus snapped, voice cool as a blade. “Leave. I’ll handle it.”

The tech left without another word.

The door shut with a hiss.

Severus let out a slow breath and turned back to the monitor. Regulus’s eyes were closed now, his body still. Was he unconscious? Pretending? He couldn’t tell.

He moved to the terminal and entered a secure command. The system blinked, then slowed. Just a minor delay. A stutter in the feed. It would look like a glitch.

It bought him five extra minutes.

Five minutes to think.

To plan.

 

***

 

He descended later into the lower levels of the lab complex, where the air was stale and the lights dimmed earlier than they should.

This was the part of Erudite people rarely saw. Where old wings had been shuttered off, where empty cells and unused equipment collected dust—and secrets. It was here that Severus kept a private stash of antidotes, forged documentation, and the beginnings of an escape plan.

He ran his fingers along a shelf of unlabeled vials, stopping at a dull gray container. Inside was the first version of a serum that could mimic death. Not permanently—just long enough.

Long enough to carry a body out without suspicion.

He’d been working on it for weeks. Perfecting it. Waiting for the right moment.

And now, with Regulus deteriorating day by day, he knew that moment was coming.

Still, something about it made him hesitate. Not the risk. Not the danger.

The weight of what Regulus had endured.

Severus remembered the boy from years ago. Pale, too quiet for his age, always watching, always wary. A child who was already learning how to shrink himself into silence.

Now, that boy had grown into a soldier. Not one like Potter or Sirius or even that fiery girl, Lily. Regulus had become something else. Something harder. Stillness turned to steel.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t break.

And Severus had seen too many people break.

You won’t be one of them, he promised silently.

Not if he could help it.

 

***

 

Back in his quarters—bare walls, a desk, a cot, and a shelf lined with books he never had time to read—Severus pulled out the old letter.

Dumbledore’s writing, still crisp after all these years.

“There will come a time when your silence must end. When your quiet defiance must become action. You’ll know when it’s time.”

He stared at the page for a long time.

Then he folded it away and pulled out a new sheet of parchment.

And he began to write.

Instructions. Timings. Exit routes.

A plan. A promise.

The beginning of the end.

Notes:

Snape POV unlocked!!

Chapter 35: The Escape

The lights were too bright again.

They always were—buzzing overhead like electric stars, casting harsh white across the room that left no place for shadow. No softness. Just exposure. Regulus lay strapped to the table, bones aching, skin raw where restraints had rubbed him raw. His breath came in shallow, measured pulls. Even that hurt.

Everything hurt.

He wasn’t afraid anymore. Not in the way he used to be. The fear had dulled into something quieter. Emptier. Like a candle burning low, waiting for the wick to vanish.

The last simulation had nearly killed him. He’d felt it—that split second when his heart had stuttered in his chest, when black closed in at the edges of his vision and he’d thought, This is it.

It wasn’t.

But it would be. Soon.

The door hissed open with that awful mechanical sound, and Regulus didn’t bother lifting his head.

Footsteps. Only one pair.

Severus Snape stepped into the room, alone.

No clipboard. No lab coat. No usual guards at his back.

Regulus knew, without needing to be told.

Snape didn’t meet his eyes.

“You’re being terminated,” he said, voice flat.

Regulus didn’t react. Not at first. Then, after a beat:

“Well,” he rasped, “at least it’ll be quiet.”

He turned his head, ever so slightly, so he could look at the wall—the blank, grey wall where he’d imagined a window once. Imagined blue sky. “I see,” he murmured.

Silence stretched between them, heavy with all the words neither of them had the right to say.

Regulus closed his eyes.

James, he thought. I'm sorry. I should’ve told you I loved you more.

A breath trembled through him. Sirius. Maybe I’ll see you soon. Maybe this time, I’ll get it right.

He tried to hold onto their faces. James’s laugh. Sirius’s crooked grin. Remus, Lily. Even Barty’s ridiculous hair. He wanted to carry those with him into whatever came next.

“I’ll administer a serum,” Snape said. “It will dull your nervous system. You won’t feel anything.”

Snape paused, just for a moment. Then he approached with the small metal syringe in hand. “This will be administered prior to your final test. To... prepare your nervous system.”

Regulus almost laughed. Prepare . That was the word they used when they meant numb you enough to die without screaming .

“I suppose I should say thank you,” Regulus murmured.

Snape didn’t answer. He knelt beside him, rolled up Regulus’s sleeve, and slid the needle in. The pinch barely registered.

A moment of panic shot through Regulus at the last second. His eyes widened in what could only be described as childlike fear. 

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” Snape said. And then, quieter, almost too low to hear— “Sleep, Regulus.”

 

***

 

Darkness came fast.

But death, as it turned out, was not what Regulus expected.

He thought it would be like drifting into nothingness. Peaceful. Silent. Maybe a glimpse of Sirius, waiting with a smirk and a snarky “Took you long enough, Reg.”

Instead, he felt everything . Pressure in his chest. The weight of his limbs, unmovable. The pounding of his own heartbeat like a dull drum in the back of his skull.

Am I dead?
No. No, he didn’t feel dead. He felt... stuck.

Panic flared briefly, but he couldn’t move—couldn’t even twitch. His eyelids were frozen shut, his tongue heavy in his mouth. His body was a prison now.

And yet—

Hands. Lifting him. Wrapping something tight around him. Thick, synthetic fabric enclosing his body.

A body bag.

He would’ve laughed if he could. Really, Severus? This is the plan? Bold.

He couldn’t speak, but his mind flickered like static, registering things in slivers. Cold. Movement. A hallway.

A voice. Snape’s, low and clipped.

“No, I don’t need an escort. Riddle ordered full disposal—he didn’t want anyone seeing the subject.”

Footsteps retreated.

Silence.

Then more movement—steady, careful. A sense of being tilted, carried. Regulus felt like dead weight, and for once, he actually was.

Somewhere between the levels of the lab, someone bumped into the side of the bag. Snape muttered a curse. Regulus, floating in the abyss of paralysis, sent up a silent apology for being inconvenient.

Then—

A gust of air. Not recycled. Real air. It hit his skin like a memory. Faint scents: smoke, damp stone, oil. The outside .

He didn’t know what was happening. Couldn’t ask. Couldn’t think straight.

But for the first time in weeks, maybe months, something inside him sparked. A flicker of warmth. Not hope—not yet.

Trust.

Severus Snape. A man he'd once feared, then resented, then forgotten.

Now, he clung to the idea of him like a rope in the dark.

Then came the clang of a door. A sharp jolt.

Snape hissed, "Move, damn it—"

And someone else cursed on the other side.

Regulus, buried in fabric and stifling darkness, thought faintly: Well, that can’t be good.

Notes:

YESSS finally!!

I wonder who is on the other side 👀

Chapter 36: The Rescue (James' POV)

They were close.

James could feel it in his bones—in the way the air grew colder, in the way the hallway narrowed as they pressed deeper into the underbelly of Erudite headquarters. Every step felt like walking a tightrope over open flame. One wrong move and they'd all fall. But none of them were turning back.

Sirius was pacing like a caged animal, wand gripped so tight his knuckles had gone white. Lily was silent, her jaw locked with deadly focus. Remus kept glancing over his shoulder, always calculating. Barty, for once, wasn’t cracking jokes—his hand hovered near his holster, ready. Even Evan looked grim.

James’s heart was hammering in his chest.

He didn’t allow himself to say Regulus’s name out loud. Not yet. It would make it too real. Make the possibility of losing him too close.

They reached the last steel door before the lab sector. Barty reached for the handle, muttering something under his breath—

And then—

WHAM.

The door slammed outward, colliding straight into Barty’s face.

“ Bloody hell! ” he shouted, stumbling back and clutching his nose.

Everyone froze.

A figure stood in the doorway, cloaked in black, a heavy duffel-sized body bag slung over his shoulder.

Severus Snape.

James stepped forward before anyone else could react.

Snape looked exhausted. His skin was sallow, dark eyes glittering with disdain, and he looked about two seconds away from snapping. “Honestly, of all the people I could have hit with the door...”

Then James saw it.

The bag.

The body-shaped bag.

Time stopped.

He couldn’t breathe.

“...No.”

His voice cracked around the single syllable.

The others caught on a moment later, eyes darting to the bag, their weapons raised instinctively.

“No. No, no— no ,” James muttered, pushing past Sirius and Remus.

He stumbled forward, falling to his knees in front of the bag. He reached out with shaking fingers and touched it—cold, too still. He pressed his hand flat against the surface, desperate for a heartbeat. A twitch. A breath. Anything .

Nothing.

James crumpled.

“No,” he whispered, again and again, barely able to breathe around the sound. His shoulders shook, and then the sobs came—unforgiving and raw. He doubled over the bag like it would somehow bring Regulus back. Like if he held it tightly enough, it would wake him up.

“ Regulus— ” His voice broke completely.

The others didn’t move.

Sirius looked like he’d been punched in the gut, eyes wide and disbelieving.

Lily covered her mouth with her hand.

Remus gently reached for James’s shoulder, but James shrugged him off and bent over the bag again, pressing his forehead against it. “I was supposed to save you,” he whispered, voice shattered. “You weren’t supposed to— You weren’t supposed to leave me like this. ”

A long beat of silence.

And then—

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Severus muttered, sounding more irritated than anything.

Everyone blinked.

“What?” Sirius said, stepping forward.

“He’s not dead,” Snape snapped, adjusting the strap on his shoulder with a grunt. “He’s paralyzed. Faked his death. It was the only way to get him out. But if you’d all like to continue with this melodramatic funeral, feel free to delay the part where we escape .”

James froze.

The words filtered in slowly.

Not dead.

He looked up. “What—?”

Snape rolled his eyes, like this was the most inconvenient emotion he’d ever had to witness. “He’s alive. He needs a stimulant injection to wake him, but he’s alive. Honestly, do you always fall apart this easily?”

James didn’t care.

He surged forward, gripping the edge of the bag, and yanked it open.

There he was.

Regulus.

Still pale. Still frighteningly motionless. But his chest—James looked closer—yes. Moving. Barely.

James let out a gasp that turned into something like a laugh, except it was still broken and wet with leftover tears. “He’s—he’s really alive.”

“Yes,” Snape said dryly. “You're welcome.”

The others crowded around now. Sirius dropped to his knees next to James, hand trembling as he reached out to touch his brother’s arm. Lily whispered something under her breath—thankful, or maybe just in awe.

“Why the hell didn’t you lead with that?” Barty growled, still holding his bruised nose.

Snape raised a brow. “Because I was carrying a full-grown man through three levels of a secure military base while trying not to get caught. Forgive me if your emotional wellbeing wasn’t my priority.”

James ignored them all. His hands were already reaching for Regulus’s face, brushing hair from his forehead.

He was still warm.

Still his .

“I’ve got you,” James whispered, cradling Regulus’s limp form as if his own heart might fall apart. “I’ve got you, love. Just hang on.”

Snape knelt beside them, his face paler than usual but composed. He reached into the folds of his coat and produced a small vial. “This will wake him. Eventually. His system’s been through hell—he won’t be lucid for a while.”

James took the vial without a word. His hands trembled as he uncorked it. Gently, he tilted Regulus’s head back and trickled the liquid into his mouth, careful not to spill a drop.

They waited.

The silence stretched, taut as wire.

But Regulus didn’t move.

His face remained slack, bruised and too pale, lashes still against his cheeks like he was only sleeping. His chest rose, shallow but steady. Alive—but unreachable.

James bowed his head, pressing his forehead to Regulus’s. “Come on,” he whispered. “Please, baby. Come back to me.”

Sirius stood stiffly nearby, eyes locked on his brother, fists clenched. “Why isn’t he waking up?” His voice cracked at the edges.

“It’ll take time,” Snape said. “I told you—he’s not dead, but he’s barely hanging on. He needs rest.”

James nodded, even though it didn’t feel like enough.

He shifted closer, one hand cupping Regulus’s face. His thumb brushed along the sharp line of his jaw. “You’re safe now. Do you hear me? It’s over. You did it. You made it.”

There was no answer. Not yet.

Lily touched James’s shoulder. “We need to get him out of here,” she said softly. “He needs real care. A bed. Time.”

James glanced up at her, eyes wet, but he nodded. Then, one more time, he looked down at Regulus and murmured, “I’m not leaving you again. Wherever you are in there—find your way back to me.”

Sirius crouched beside him and rested a hand on Regulus’s arm, silent. His gaze was unreadable, but it burned with something fierce and unrelenting.

Together, the group gathered around.

And as they prepared to disappear into the night with their rescued friend still lost in unconsciousness, they held onto one single, stubborn hope:

That Regulus would come back.

Notes:

Ahh poor James 😭 has this man not been through enough

I'm glad they are all finally together again

Chapter 37: Regulus’s Awakening

Regulus’s mind was a tangle of confusion when he slowly regained consciousness. It felt like waking up from a dream—or a nightmare, more likely. The pain in his body was constant, a dull throb that never quite left, but it was the heaviness in his chest, the strange hollowness that truly unsettled him. He felt detached from his own body, as though nothing was quite real, like he was floating just outside of himself.

The world was too bright. The light overhead burned his eyes, too harsh for someone who had spent so long in darkness. A low hum filled the space, but it felt muffled, distant, as though he were underwater. His thoughts were sluggish, slow to form as they churned, trying to make sense of where he was, of what had happened.

Everything felt wrong, but also... safe? It didn’t make sense. Regulus’s heart began to pound, his chest tightening, and he forced himself to take shallow breaths. His eyes fluttered open, and the movement felt like a monumental effort.

The first thing he saw was James.

The sight of him—his face just inches away—was both a relief and a shock. For a moment, Regulus thought he had imagined it. He blinked again, trying to clear his mind, but James’s face remained, as real as anything. His dark hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot and swollen, and there was a softness there that made Regulus’s throat tighten.

“James?” His voice was hoarse, cracked, the words coming out in a strained whisper. The very sound of it surprised him, as though it wasn’t his own voice.

“Regulus... Oh, God,” James choked out, his voice thick with emotion, too raw to hide. His eyes were red-rimmed, but they were filled with something else too—relief, overwhelming relief. “You’re awake. You’re really awake.”

Regulus’s breath hitched at the sight of him, but it wasn’t the joy he thought he’d feel. There was something heavier than that, something deeper, a gnawing emptiness that he couldn’t shake. His heart ached in ways he couldn’t explain. His chest felt hollow, like something fundamental had been torn out of him.

Regulus tried to sit up, but his body refused to cooperate. His muscles ached, stiff and weak. “Where am I?” he asked, his voice still shaky as he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was small, cozy even, but it meant nothing to him. He was still trapped in the haze of exhaustion, pain, and confusion.

James’s hand quickly pressed to his shoulder, gently urging him back down. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re with me. You’re with us.” His voice cracked, and Regulus could hear how his words trembled.

Regulus stared at James’s face, the intensity in the other’s eyes making him blink again. James looked like he hadn’t slept in days—exhausted, but the relief that shone through his eyes was enough to pull Regulus’s heart into his throat. He tried to smile, but it felt impossible. There was something in the pit of his stomach—something bitter—that kept him from fully feeling the joy he should have.

His throat was tight. “I thought I was dead,” Regulus admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

James’s face crumpled, a quick flash of pain crossing his features before he caught himself. “No,” James whispered, shaking his head. “No, Regulus. You’re not dead. You’re alive. I—I thought I lost you. I thought I—I couldn’t—” His voice broke, and Regulus watched as James wiped his eyes, as if trying to get control of himself.

“I was... ready for it to end,” Regulus murmured, his head spinning. His body felt too heavy to hold up, too fragile to survive the weight of the emotions swirling within him.

“Don’t say that,” James pleaded, his voice thick with tears. “You’re here. I’m here. We’re—We’re together, Regulus. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Regulus’s heart clenched. “James, I—” He stopped himself, throat thick, the words too hard to form. There was so much he wanted to say—so much he couldn’t. The grief he had buried, the overwhelming despair of everything that had happened, weighed him down. But none of that mattered now. He was here. He was with James. He was alive.

But what did it mean? What was the point, if Sirius was gone?

James moved closer, his hand gently stroking Regulus’s hair, as if trying to comfort him in a way words couldn’t. Regulus closed his eyes at the touch, at the warmth, and for the briefest moment, he allowed himself to sink into the feeling. He let himself be here, just with James, without the overwhelming thoughts of what he had lost.

“Regulus, I—I don’t even know how to explain how much I missed you,” James said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands shook as he cupped Regulus’s face, his thumb tracing the curve of his jaw. “I thought you were gone, I thought... I thought I’d never see you again.”

Regulus opened his eyes, meeting James’s gaze. And for a moment, the world was still. There was nothing but James and the rawness in his eyes, the overwhelming sorrow and relief that mirrored his own.

“You’re here now,” Regulus whispered. “You’re really here.” His voice cracked as he let the words sink in. His heart was so full, but it ached at the same time. He wanted to say more, to tell James how much this meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he felt himself trembling, his body still too weak, his mind too muddled, but his soul was burning with the desperate need to be close to James.

Before he knew it, James leaned down, pressing his forehead to Regulus’s. “I’m not going anywhere,” James said softly, his breath warm against Regulus’s skin. “I swear. I won’t leave you. Not again.”

Regulus could feel the weight of those words, the weight of the promise. The last few weeks had torn him apart, broken him into pieces he wasn’t sure he could ever put back together. But here, with James, there was a chance—a small flicker of hope that maybe he could rebuild himself, that maybe he could heal.

And then, without thinking, James leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Regulus’s in the gentlest kiss. Regulus froze for a split second, unsure of what was happening, before everything inside him—every fragment of relief, pain, fear, and longing—washed over him all at once.

It wasn’t a kiss of passion, not at first. It was the soft, trembling release of everything that had been held inside them both. The weight of everything they had suffered. The relief of finally being together again.

Regulus felt his chest tighten with emotion as he kissed James back, his arms moving to wrap around him, pulling him closer, needing him. His hands trembled, but he didn’t care. He needed this—needed James, needed to feel alive again, needed to know that someone cared, that he wasn’t alone in this world.

The kiss deepened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Regulus allowed himself to forget the pain, forget the fear, forget the loss. For just a moment, everything was okay. Everything was safe.

When they finally pulled apart, James’s face was flushed, his eyes bright with unshed tears, but his smile was gentle, tender. He rested his forehead against Regulus’s, both of them breathing heavily, as if they were trying to find their footing in a world that had been nothing but chaos for too long.

“I’ve got you, Reg,” James whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve got you.”

Regulus nodded, his heart still racing, his mind reeling, but for once, it didn’t matter. He was here. He was alive. And James was with him.

And for the first time in weeks, Regulus allowed himself to believe in the possibility of hope.

Notes:

Awww they are so cute 😭

Chapter 38: A Heartbreaking Truth

Regulus was still trying to understand how he felt—or rather, how he was supposed to feel—now that he was free. Physically, his body was sore, fragile even, the lingering aftereffects of the brutal experiments and emotional torment in Erudite still weighing heavily on him. But it was more than just the pain. It was the absence. The aching emptiness where Sirius had once been.

He’d been broken in Erudite, pushed to the point where his own mind seemed to unravel. The grief he had been carrying for so long—thinking his brother was dead, lost to him forever—had eaten at him. He had allowed himself to believe it. The constant simulations, the cruelty of it all, had convinced him that Sirius was gone. And the worst part was that Regulus never truly got to mourn him properly. Never got to say goodbye.

Now, standing in the middle of the safe house, surrounded by people who had cared about him, people who had fought to bring him home, Regulus felt like a stranger in his own skin. He kept glancing at the door, at the hallways, almost expecting to see that familiar face. But he knew it wouldn’t come. Sirius is dead , his mind told him. He’s gone .

James stood beside him, looking just as exhausted. His eyes held a deep, unspoken worry as they walked toward the meeting room. It wasn’t just the exhaustion from everything they had endured—it was the same quiet dread that Regulus had seen in his own reflection. A mixture of relief and fear.

When they reached the door, James hesitated before gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready for this, Reg?” he asked, his voice soft but firm.

Regulus met James’s eyes, trying to push aside the numbness that seemed to grip him. He couldn’t bring himself to say what he was truly feeling—not to James, not to anyone. He was so tired. Tired of the pain, tired of the worry.

“I’m fine,” Regulus replied quietly, but there was a tremor in his voice that James didn’t miss.

James simply nodded, his eyes searching Regulus’s face before they walked into the meeting room together.

Inside, the others were gathered. Barty was leaning against the wall, his usual indifference somewhat diminished by the events of the past days. Evan was standing by the window, staring out with a look of quiet contemplation. Lily was sitting at the table, looking up as they entered, her tired expression softening when she saw Regulus.

“Reg,” she said, her voice a little breathless, as if she had been holding her breath waiting for this moment. “We’ve all been so worried.”

Regulus managed a small nod, but his gaze shifted uneasily around the room, lingering on each of them in turn.

Then, Remus walked in.

His face, usually full of warmth and quiet understanding, was drawn tight with exhaustion. When he saw Regulus, his face softened for just a moment before he carefully approached. Regulus, his heart heavy, didn’t know how to greet him. How could he even begin to explain the crushing grief that had lingered inside him, the belief that Sirius was gone? How could he explain the silent war he’d fought in his own mind?

Without thinking, Regulus walked toward Remus and pulled him into a hug. Remus was startled at first, as though he hadn’t expected it, but then he hugged him back, his hand gently rubbing Regulus’s back.

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Regulus whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking under the weight of everything. “I should’ve been here. I’m sorry for leaving you behind.”

Remus pulled back slightly, looking at him in confusion. “What do you mean? You didn’t—”

“I just—” Regulus’s chest tightened, and he rubbed at his eyes, trying to hold back the flood of emotions. “I wasn’t here. I wasn’t there when I should’ve been.” His voice broke again, and he couldn’t stop it. The grief and guilt were suffocating, an ever-present weight he couldn’t shake.

“You don’t have to apologize, Reg,” Remus said gently, his tone comforting. “We’re just glad you’re here now.”

But Regulus couldn’t bring himself to feel the comfort Remus offered. He couldn’t shake the overwhelming pain—the pain of thinking Sirius was gone, the pain of believing that the last person who had ever truly mattered to him was lost.

Before he could say anything more, the door to the room burst open, and a loud, familiar voice boomed across the space.

“Reggie!”

Regulus froze, his heart skipping a beat as the figure rushed into the room. It was too familiar. Too real.

Before Regulus could react, he was caught up in an embrace so strong it almost knocked the air out of him. His arms instinctively reached out, but they felt heavy, uncoordinated. His brain was still trying to process what was happening—what was wrong with this picture?

“Reggie!” Sirius repeated, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye, his face lit up with that same goofy grin Regulus had seen so many times before. “It’s been way too long, mate. I missed you.”

Regulus couldn’t breathe. His pulse was racing, his thoughts scattered, all the emotions he’d locked away for so long coming crashing down on him. His chest felt tight, his mind spinning. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

Sirius was—he was dead.

No , his mind screamed. Sirius is dead.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. His hands shot out, his fingers trembling as he shoved Sirius away. “What the hell is this?” Regulus’s voice was sharp, raw with emotion. He couldn’t understand. This couldn’t be happening. His heart was racing as he stumbled backward, looking at Sirius in disbelief. “You—you’re dead. You’re dead !”

Sirius’s face dropped from confusion to concern, and he took a step toward him, his brow furrowing. “Reggie, what are you—”

“I watched you die ! I watched you die , you bastard!” Regulus screamed, his voice breaking, the words spilling out of him in a rush of anger, fear, and pain. “You left me. You left me to die. I believed you were dead!”

Sirius stood there, frozen, his face a mask of confusion and hurt. Regulus’s hands were shaking, and he felt like he was losing control, his body betraying him as the walls he’d so carefully built began to crumble around him. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t real.

“What are you talking about, Reggie?” Sirius said quietly, taking another step forward. “I’m right here. I’m not dead. I’m right here. Look at me.”

Regulus’s vision blurred, and he couldn’t stop the onslaught of tears that finally came rushing forward. “I thought you were dead! I thought you left me !” he cried out, his voice raw with desperation. He turned to James. “Why didn’t you—why didn’t you tell me the truth? Why didn’t you let me know ?”

The room fell silent. No one moved. No one spoke. James looked stunned and confused behind him.

It was Remus who broke the silence, his voice low, almost gentle. “Regulus… you thought Sirius was dead?”

Regulus looked at him, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. His heart hammered painfully in his chest as he nodded, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I—I thought… He died, Remus. He died. I saw him die. I thought—I thought I was alone.”

The others stood frozen, shock spreading across their faces. James’s eyes widened, and even Barty, who usually kept to himself, seemed utterly stunned. The room was filled with a deep, unsettling silence. No one had known. No one had known what Regulus had been through.

Sirius, his own tears now falling freely, dropped to his knees in front of Regulus. “I never wanted you to think that, Reggie. I swear. I never wanted you to feel that way.”

Regulus collapsed into his arms, shaking uncontrollably. He clung to Sirius like a lifeline, his whole body wracked with sobs. “You’re alive,” he whispered, the words thick and broken. “You’re alive…”

Sirius held him tight, pressing his forehead to Regulus’s. “I’m here, Reggie. I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears flowed freely now, but Regulus didn’t care. Everything he had held onto for so long—the grief, the pain—finally cracked. And in Sirius’s arms, he let go.

Notes:

Let me clarify: Reg was told Sirius died by Riddle and his parents, however, the simulations did break him a bit, so he currently believes that not only is Sirius dead, but he watched it happen.

😭 poor Reg 😭

Chapter 39: The Plan (James' POV)

James sat at the table, his elbows resting on the surface as his hands tangled in his hair. His mind was still reeling from the discovery. The things Regulus had said about Sirius—those words, those broken, desperate cries—still echoed in his mind. He couldn’t understand how this had happened. How could his brother, his best friend, have been left to think that Sirius was dead?

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the safe house’s old appliances and the occasional creak of the floorboards. Remus had been pacing for the last few minutes, his eyes distant as he processed everything that had happened. Regulus’s breakdown, the revelations about his tortured mind, and what that meant for their future.

James knew they had to focus, but his heart felt heavy. Regulus had suffered so much—more than he could ever truly understand. And now, they were in this position. They were on the verge of striking back at Erudite, finally ready to destroy Riddle’s hold on the simulations, but how could they do that with someone so broken by it all?

“James?” Remus’s voice cut through the fog of his thoughts. James looked up to find Remus standing in front of him, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Yeah?” James asked, his voice quiet.

“I’ve been thinking,” Remus began, his eyes searching James’s face. “About Regulus. About what he said... about Sirius.”

James swallowed hard, pushing the discomfort down. “I know. I don’t get it. He said he saw Sirius die. I know Regulus, and I... I just—how could he have thought that?”

Remus exhaled slowly, looking out the window before returning his gaze to James. “It’s possible that the simulations, the torture... it did something to him. Something in his mind. We know Riddle’s experiments are designed to break people down, but I think... I think Riddle’s been trying to mess with his memories. Planting things, maybe. Erasing others.”

The realization hit James like a wave, a chill creeping up his spine. “You think Riddle could’ve manipulated Regulus’s memories?”

“Not just think,” Remus said, his voice steady. “I’m almost certain of it. The way he described seeing Sirius die, how vivid it was to him—it wasn’t real. Riddle’s simulations are cruel, and they can do more than just break someone physically. They can make someone doubt everything they know, twist their reality.”

James clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “So, if Riddle can do that to Regulus—how many other lies has he fed him? How much of what Regulus remembers is even true?”

“I’m afraid we don’t know,” Remus replied softly. “But we have to be prepared for the possibility that there’s more. Riddle could’ve planted other false memories in him. Regulus’s mind might not be the same. He may be a completely different person than the one we thought we knew.”

James felt the weight of those words settle heavily in his chest. He stared at the floor, fighting to keep his composure. Regulus had always been someone he admired, even when they were enemies. But to think that the Regulus he had fought against, the one he’d considered distant and cold, might have been a victim of Riddle’s twisted experiments—it didn’t sit right.

But they had to keep moving forward. They couldn’t afford to let their emotions cloud their judgment, not now, not with everything on the line.

James stood, running a hand through his hair. “Then we need to get him back to full strength. And we need to make sure he’s safe .”

“We will,” Remus assured him, his voice low but steady. “But we need a plan. A real one.”

James looked at him, his mind spinning with the urgency of it all. “You’re right. We need to strike, and we need to strike fast. Riddle’s not going to let us have this freedom for long.”

“Exactly,” Remus said, walking over to the table. He tapped a map of Erudite’s headquarters that was spread out before them. “We need to figure out where we go from here. What’s our next move?”

James glanced down at the map, the layout of Erudite HQ staring back at him. It was sprawling, filled with layers upon layers of security. Riddle’s reach was vast, and taking him down would require all of their resources—and more.

But James felt something stirring in him. Something stronger than fear. A sense of purpose.

“We need to hit Riddle where it hurts. The simulations, that’s where his power lies. If we can destroy that, we can take him down.”

“You mean the machine, right?” Barty’s voice interrupted, and James looked up to see him standing in the doorway, his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but there was something fierce in his eyes. “The simulations are where he’s keeping control, where he’s breaking people. If we destroy the machine, we destroy the weapon.”

“Exactly,” James said, feeling a flicker of hope. “The machine is central to everything. If we can get inside and destroy it—”

“Won’t be easy,” Barty interjected. “But it’s possible. If we can create enough of a distraction, we might be able to sneak in. The security’s tight, but there’s a blind spot near the eastern corridor.”

“I’ll handle the distraction,” Lily spoke up from the corner, her arms crossed. “We’ve been working on ways to create a signal jammer. We can cut off communication long enough for you to get to the control room.”

James nodded, feeling the tension in his shoulders begin to ease just slightly. He glanced at Remus, who gave a quick nod of agreement. They were all in this together now. They had a real plan.

But as the details of the plan began to fall into place, James couldn’t help but glance over at Regulus, who had been sitting quietly at the table, listening but not speaking much. He still looked exhausted, his body still recovering from the toll of the simulations and the trauma he’d endured. His eyes were distant, lost somewhere in the recesses of his mind.

Regulus had hardly said a word since their reunion. He had his moments of clarity, but more often than not, his mind seemed elsewhere. James knew that Regulus was still processing everything—the torture, the lies, the grief. He had lost so much.

James walked over to him, his heart aching for the other boy. He kneeled down next to him, offering a small, reassuring smile.

“Hey,” James said softly. “You alright?”

Regulus didn’t look up at first, but after a moment, he met his gaze. His face was worn, tired, but there was something in his eyes that James could almost identify—fear, maybe? Or uncertainty.

“I don’t know if I am,” Regulus admitted quietly. “I... I still don’t feel like I’m all here. Like I’m in one piece. I don’t even know where to begin. I’m not sure I belong in any of this.”

“You belong here,” James said immediately. “You’ve been through hell, Regulus. But you’re with us now, and we’re not letting you go through this alone. We’re doing this together.”

Regulus’s eyes flickered with something—maybe hope, maybe doubt. It was hard to tell.

Sirius, who had been quietly standing at the far end of the room, moved over to Regulus’s side and sat next to him. “We’ve got your back, Reg,” he said softly, offering him a warm smile. “We’re all in this together, okay?”

For a brief moment, Regulus’s expression softened. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but he just nodded, his eyes briefly flickering toward James before they turned back to the map.

“We’ll take down Riddle,” Regulus said, his voice quiet but with a strength James hadn’t heard from him in a while. “Together.”

James nodded, his heart swelling with something akin to hope. “Together.”

And for the first time in a long time, James believed it.

Notes:

i'm so happy that they are all back together again 😭

Chapter 40: A Dark Future

The nights were the worst.

Regulus woke up from dreams that left him gasping for air, his body tangled in the blankets like he was still trapped in those sterile rooms, restrained and broken. Every night, the same twisted scenes replayed in his mind—Riddle’s face looming over him, the cold, sterile walls of Erudite closing in, the endless simulations that never seemed to end.

Sometimes, the nightmares were flashes. A fragment of a memory. Other times, they were vivid, detailed, real enough that Regulus could feel the burn of the needles and the chill of the metal tables. They always left him trembling, drenched in sweat, and unable to shake the feeling that he was still there, still trapped in Erudite, still his prisoner.

Regulus would lie awake for hours, his chest tight, staring at the ceiling of the Dauntless quarters. The building, meant to offer safety and refuge, felt like an illusion to him. The soft hum of the Dauntless HQ was constant in the background, but it couldn’t drown out the echoes of the past.

It wasn’t just the memories that tormented him—it was the belief that nothing was real anymore. His mind was fractured, like a shattered mirror, and every piece of it was painful to pick up. Regulus would catch himself looking for things that weren't there—things he’d lost. The cold touch of his brother’s absence burned deeper than anything the simulations had put him through.

James had always been there, though. He was the one who tried to pull him out of the dark.

Each time Regulus woke up screaming, James was there beside him. No matter how late, no matter how exhausted, James never once complained. He would hold Regulus, even if it was just for a moment, pressing his warm, steady presence against him. And when the nightmares were too much, when Regulus was too far gone to calm himself, James would whisper reassuring words, his voice soft and steady.

But there were times when even James couldn’t help him.

One of those nights, Regulus had awoken so violently that he nearly tumbled out of bed. His breaths came in sharp gasps as his mind scrambled to make sense of the world around him. His eyes darted around, wide with panic. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon outside. Regulus could barely catch his breath as his body fought against the terror that consumed him.

“Reg? Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe,” James said, his voice soothing but firm as he gently grasped Regulus’s shoulders, pulling him back to reality.

Regulus tried to shake him off, his head spinning with the remnants of the nightmare. “No... no, James, I can’t... I—” His voice cracked, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Shh. I’m here. You’re okay.” James repeated the words as if they were a mantra, a lifeline.

But Regulus’s eyes were wild with confusion. “Sirius... he’s... he’s dead, James. He’s dead, and I... I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save anyone.”

James’s brow furrowed as he knelt beside the bed. “Reg, listen to me. Sirius is alive. He’s here, okay? He’s here, and he’s not going anywhere.”

But Regulus was unconvinced. He wasn’t sure if anything was real anymore. Every time he closed his eyes, it felt like the world was slipping away from him. “I can’t... I can’t do this again. Please, James. Please, just—”

Before James could respond, Regulus’s breathing became even more erratic, his chest heaving with panic. He was slipping again, lost in the dark space between waking and sleeping, between reality and the nightmares that always threatened to swallow him whole.

James’s face tightened with concern. “I’ll go get Sirius, Reg. Just hold on, alright?”

Regulus nodded weakly, not trusting his voice. His throat was tight, his heart racing with the fear that everything he’d been fighting for was slipping through his fingers.

James disappeared down the hall for a moment, returning with Sirius close behind. The moment Regulus saw his brother, a sob tore from his chest.

Sirius wasted no time, climbing into the bed beside him and pulling Regulus into his arms. “Hey, I’m here. I’m here, Reggie. You’re not alone.”

Regulus clung to him like a lifeline, his hands shaking as he buried his face in Sirius’s chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d been like this—Sirius had been there before, in the dark hours, offering comfort and warmth. But it still felt like a new kind of hell, one that Regulus didn’t know how to navigate.

“I thought... I thought you were dead,” Regulus muttered, his voice muffled against Sirius’s shirt. “I thought I lost you.”

Sirius’s grip tightened around him, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere, Reggie. I’m not going to leave you.”

Regulus just shook his head, tears soaking into his brother’s clothes. “I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t save anyone.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Sirius said gently, his fingers running through Regulus’s hair. “We’re in this together. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

But even as he said the words, Regulus felt the weight of everything pressing down on him. He felt broken, like a puzzle with too many missing pieces. The darkness still lingered, the memories of Riddle’s experiments clawing at him. Every time he tried to escape it, it pulled him back in.

As the days went by, the nightmares continued, and it became clear that Regulus was far from healed. James never complained, never showed a hint of frustration or exhaustion. He was there, always. He stayed up late to sit with Regulus, offering his quiet comfort. And when Regulus would wake up in the middle of the night, thrashing and gasping for air, James would always be there to help him breathe again.

It was during one of these nights that Remus joined them. He knocked softly on the door, asking if Regulus was okay. The concern on his face was palpable, and Regulus had a moment of guilt for dragging everyone into his mess. But Remus, being who he was, just smiled gently and laid down beside him on the floor, offering the same silent comfort that James did.

Sirius stayed by his side every night, but soon Remus began joining them on the floor too. Regulus felt awful for the intrusion, for the way he had become a constant source of worry for everyone around him. But even as guilt gnawed at him, he couldn't find the strength to push them away. He was too wrecked, too fragile. He needed them, even if he couldn’t bring himself to admit it out loud.

The days bled together. Regulus tried to focus on the mission, on the rebellion’s plans. They were finally going to strike Erudite. It was their best chance to take Riddle down once and for all. But Regulus found himself frozen with indecision. The fear of losing more, of watching his friends and family be torn apart again, was overwhelming.

One afternoon, after another round of strategizing with the rebellion, Regulus found himself sitting alone in a corner of the Dauntless common room, staring at the floor. His thoughts were a tangle of conflicting emotions—fear, grief, relief, and a fierce desire to redeem himself. He had done terrible things in the past, and he knew that taking down Erudite could be his chance to make things right. But the stakes were high, and the fear of loss made it all feel like a gamble he wasn’t sure he could take.

James found him there, sitting alone in the quiet of the room. He sat beside Regulus without a word, his presence a steady comfort. Regulus could feel James’s warmth next to him, and for a moment, it made everything seem a little less impossible.

“We can do this, Reg,” James said quietly, his hand resting on his shoulder. “We’ll fight. We’ll take them down together.”

Regulus nodded, but the fear still gripped him. “What if... what if we don’t make it?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

James’s grip tightened. “Then we fight anyway. We do it for the people who can’t fight. We do it for each other. For you.”

Regulus blinked rapidly, trying to push the tears back. “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

James’s voice softened. “We’ll be careful. We’ll watch each other’s backs. You’re not alone in this, Reg. You never will be.”

For a long while, they just sat there, the weight of everything heavy between them. Regulus’s heart felt tight, but hearing James’s words—feeling the steady beat of his heart beside his own—gave him a sliver of hope.

The attack on Erudite was coming. They were all preparing for it, steeling themselves for the danger that lay ahead. Regulus wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel entirely alone.

Whatever came next, they would face it together. But Regulus knew that nothing would be the same after it was all over.

The final assault was on the horizon. And no matter what happened, they would fight until the end.

Notes:

idk how many times I am going to say it, but poor reg 😭

but like... James is the best boyfriend ever right??

Chapter 41: The Quiet Before (Remus' POV)

The quiet was strange.

Not the soft, comforting kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a blanket. This one was too still—suffocating. Like the world was holding its breath.

Remus sat with his back against the stone wall, legs drawn up, fingers loosely curled around the strap of his weapon. The room they’d tucked themselves into was tucked deep underground, the hum of pipes overhead the only real sound. The kind of place no one would think to look for them.

Sirius sat across from him, his dark eyes watching him in that way that always felt like too much. Like he could see right through him, to the nerves sparking under Remus’ skin. To the fear.

Remus looked away.

He shouldn’t be this scared. Not now. Not after everything. But it was like his mind wouldn’t shut up—spiraling, dragging him down with every second that ticked closer to the fight. His thoughts were chaos. What if they failed? What if Sirius didn’t make it out? What if this was the last time they ever sat in silence like this?

What if he wasn’t enough?

“I can hear you thinking,” Sirius said softly, a hint of amusement curling at the edges of his voice, like he was trying to keep things light.

“I’m not—” Remus started, but he stopped himself. What was the point of lying now?

He exhaled through his nose and stared down at the dusty floor.

“You’re doing that thing where you go silent and get all twitchy,” Sirius added, crawling over to sit beside him. Their knees bumped. “Classic Moony spiral.”

“Yeah, well. This is sort of a spiral-worthy night, don't you think?”

Sirius didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he reached over and took Remus’ hand. His fingers were warm, steady. Real.

Remus stared at their intertwined hands. He wished he could freeze this moment—hold onto it like a charm he could wear into battle.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Remus said finally, the words rasping out low and rough. “I keep thinking that if I mess up—if I take one wrong step—then you’ll—”

Sirius tugged on his hand gently, enough to make Remus look at him.

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Sure I can. I’m excellent at making promises I can’t keep.”

Remus let out a shaky breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Not funny.”

“I know. But I’m serious.”

“You are Sirius,” Remus murmured weakly.

Sirius groaned and buried his face in Remus’ shoulder. “You’re not allowed to use my own terrible joke against me. That’s betrayal.”

Remus turned his head and pressed his lips to Sirius’ temple. He stayed there for a second, breathing him in. He smelled like worn leather, smoke, and something sweeter beneath it—like honey and salt.

“Do you ever wonder how we ended up here?” he whispered.

Sirius leaned back to look at him. “In this basement? In this fight? Or in love?”

“All of it.”

Sirius shrugged. “All roads lead somewhere. Ours just happened to lead through hell.”

Remus closed his eyes. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Sirius said, without hesitation. “I am too.”

Remus opened his eyes to find Sirius watching him with that same quiet intensity. “Then why do you always seem so... steady?”

“I’m not,” Sirius said softly. “But I fake it because I know you need it. Just like you fake it for me when I’m falling apart.”

Remus looked down. His throat felt tight.

“I don’t know if I can do it tomorrow,” he admitted. “What if I freeze? What if I can't—what if something happens to you and I can't—”

“Hey.” Sirius gently cupped his jaw, guiding Remus to meet his gaze again. “Stop. You’ve done everything. You’ve carried everyone on your back. You don’t have to be perfect tomorrow. You just have to be you . That’s more than enough.”

Remus swallowed. His voice broke when he said, “You really believe that?”

“With my whole damn heart.”

He let out a small, humorless laugh. “God, you’re so annoying.”

Sirius smirked. “Sexy annoying, though.”

Remus tried to hold onto the warmth of that smile. He leaned in and kissed Sirius—slow, lingering. There wasn’t urgency in it, not tonight. Just the press of lips that said stay and I love you and I don’t want to lose you all at once.

When they pulled back, Remus rested his forehead against Sirius’.

“If this is our last night—”

“It won’t be,” Sirius interrupted.

“But if it is,” Remus went on, determined now, “I need you to know that I don’t regret any of it. Not leaving my faction. Not fighting. Not even the pain. Because it led me to you.”

Sirius blinked hard, eyes glossy.

“You’re so fucking sappy, Moony.”

“I mean it.”

“I know,” Sirius said. “And if this is the end… then we made it worth something.”

They sat there, the silence stretching. But this time, it wasn’t heavy.

It was the kind of quiet that came when there was nothing more to say. Just breath and heartbeat and the low hum of fluorescent lights. The calm before the war.

Eventually, Remus curled into Sirius’ side, their hands still clasped. He could feel Sirius’ pulse—steady, anchoring.

Neither of them slept.

There wasn’t time for sleep now.

Notes:

I love how well Sirius knows his Moony 🩷🩷

Aww they are so perfect together

Chapter 42: Ashes & Blood

The city felt like it was holding its breath.

From their vantage point on the ridge, Regulus could see everything: broken roads turned into trenches, smoke curling into the dawn-stained sky, the hollow skeletons of buildings that used to mean something. Now, they were just cover. Landmarks in a warzone.

It was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that didn't soothe, but scraped against your nerves. The kind of silence that meant something terrible was coming.

He adjusted the strap on his bulletproof vest with shaking fingers. Across from him, James was pacing slowly, murmuring into the radio clipped to his collar. His voice was steady, but the strain around his eyes betrayed the weight he was carrying.

Behind them, Barty was seated on an overturned crate, carving something into the handle of his blade with a shard of glass.

“What are you doing?” Regulus asked, mostly to distract himself.

Barty didn’t look up. “Adding a tally.”

“For what?”

Barty gave him a sly, sideways grin. “Dramatic tension.”

Evan stood a few paces away, silent. He’d been that way all morning—focused, distant, sharp. His gaze scanned the horizon like a sniper sighting targets no one else could see. Regulus had tried talking to him once on the way here, but Evan had barely acknowledged him. Now, watching him adjust the straps on his gauntlets with the cold precision of someone ready to die, Regulus wondered if silence was his armor.

“We ready?” James called.

Everyone moved toward him without a word. They knew the plan. There wasn’t much to it—just survive, hold the line, don’t let the Dauntless push through.

As they began descending into the city, the wind shifted—and with it came the noise.

Distant at first, like the growl of a coming storm.

And then, rising: gunfire, shouting, screams. The unmistakable howl of war.

“Let’s move,” James said.

They did.

They moved like ghosts through the rubble, slipping into the skeleton of what used to be Sector Four’s marketplace. Once, this place had been buzzing with life. Street vendors, flowers, music. Regulus remembered walking here as a child, holding his mother’s hand. He remembered the smell of oranges.

Now it smelled like gunpowder and blood.

They turned a corner—and stepped into hell.

 

***

 

The world was on fire.

Screams ripped through the air, slicing through the thunder of gunfire and the guttural clash of hand-to-hand combat. Smoke choked the sky above them—black plumes blooming like poisonous flowers in the chaos. Somewhere, someone was crying. Somewhere else, someone was laughing—high and wild, on the edge of madness.

Regulus Black had never seen anything like it.

He crouched behind the shattered remains of an Erudite transport vehicle, his heart hammering so hard he could feel it in his teeth. To his left, James was barking orders into his comm, gun cocked and ready. To his right, Barty was grinning like a lunatic as he picked off targets with precise, brutal efficiency.

And Evan—Evan Rosier moved like smoke, fluid and dangerous. Knives flashing, ducking between enemies like he was dancing. He caught Regulus' eye once, winked, and went back to disarming a Dauntless soldier twice his size.

Barty let out a loud, sarcastic cheer. “That’s six for Evan! I swear, he’s trying to outdo me, and I hate being shown up.”

“Maybe if you stopped monologuing,” James shot back, wiping blood from his cheek with the back of his sleeve, “you’d keep up.”

“I provide morale , thank you,” Barty replied, before casually roundhouse-kicking someone into a wall.

Regulus tried to steady his breathing. Tried to focus.

But it was hard.

Because this was the moment they’d all known was coming. The final stand. The reckoning.

And his body knew it. Every nerve was on fire.

More soldiers poured into the square from the west corridor—Dauntless, heavily armed, faces blank with whatever loyalty Erudite had pumped into them. But the boys didn’t flinch. They surged forward in unison, moving as one—covering each other, backing into formation they barely had to speak to coordinate.

And for a terrifying moment, they were winning.

Until she arrived.

Bellatrix.

She didn’t enter the fray—she descended into it, like a stormfront. Cackling. Hurling explosives like they were candy. Her hair was wild, her eyes glassy, and her laugh was the most unhinged sound Regulus had ever heard.

“Merlin,” Barty muttered. “They let her out?”

“I thought she was guarding Riddle,” Evan breathed.

“She was ,” Regulus said, stepping back instinctively as another blast shook the ground. “Guess Riddle let out his worst for the endgame.”

From the smoke behind her emerged Rodolphus—hulking, scowling, dressed in dark, thick-lined armor that made him look less like a man and more like something dragged up from the earth's core. Ash streaked across his jaw like war paint, and his boots cracked bones as he walked.

James cursed under his breath. “We’ve got incoming.”

Before anyone could react, Bellatrix cackled and hurled a grenade toward them. Barty didn’t flinch. With one sharp swing of his rifle’s butt, he batted it away like a tennis ball, and it soared in a high arc before landing in the center of a Dauntless cluster. The explosion that followed was a violent blossom of orange and red, lighting up the battlefield like a second sun.

“Oh, I missed the fireworks,” Barty shouted. “So nice of you to bring them!”

Bellatrix shrieked—a jagged, feral sound—and charged forward like a storm loosed from its tether.

The world blurred.

Everything broke at once into a dissonant symphony of steel and screams. Bellatrix and Rodolphus fought like rabid animals, all erratic violence and hate-fueled energy. Rodolphus had the weight of a boulder and the rage of a thousand. Bellatrix moved like fire, all speed and destruction. There was no finesse—only chaos. Only death.

Rodolphus charged Evan, his blade raised high, ready to strike.

Evan pivoted just in time. He ducked low, slid across the gravel-slick ground, and with a fluid twist of his wrist, flung a knife into the air. It spun once—twice—then sank deep into Rodolphus’s chest with a sickening crunch.

Rodolphus staggered backward. He looked down at the blade jutting from his sternum, as if confused. As if Evan’s defiance didn’t fit into the brutal script he had written in his mind.

Then he fell. A dull, final thud.

Regulus turned to call out—maybe praise, maybe a warning, maybe just Evan’s name.

But then came the scream.

Bellatrix’s scream.

It was not a sound made by any living, sane thing. It ripped through the air like a curse, sharp and trembling with hatred.

“No!” she howled. “You’ll pay for that!”

Her eyes were wild—black voids filled with venom. She raised her gun.

Evan barely had time to look up.

“EVAN!” Regulus shouted, voice hoarse with panic.

But Evan was already dropping to the ground, bullets slicing through the air above him. Stone shattered. Dust and debris flew. For a moment, he was just a blur in the storm, skin and breath and luck.

Bellatrix sprinted toward him, reloading as she ran, murder etched into every line of her face.

Regulus moved.

He raised his gun.

But he was too far.

Too slow.

“NO—”

And then Barty moved.

Without hesitation. Without fear.

He hurled himself in front of Evan just as the shots rang out again.

The impact was a nightmare—sickening and sharp, like the sky cracking in half.

Barty jerked once—twice—as the bullets tore through him, punching holes into his chest, his stomach, his shoulder.

Time fractured.

Regulus felt something inside him rip open.

He screamed.

It was the kind of sound that lived deep in your ribs, the kind that didn’t belong to language or reason—just raw pain.

Barty collapsed forward, his body folding over Evan like armor. Evan caught him with shaking arms, staring at the blood that already soaked through Barty’s shirt—staring as it dripped onto his own hands, warm and horrifyingly human.

“No. No—no, no, Barty—” Evan whispered, cradling him like he could undo what had just happened. Like love could hold back death.

Bellatrix raised her gun again.

Regulus didn’t think. Didn’t breathe.

He fired.

The bullet struck her square between the eyes.

Her expression didn’t change—just froze there, twisted in fury—as she dropped. The thud of her body hitting the ground felt muted, distant. Done.

But it didn’t matter.

Because Barty was already slipping away.

Regulus ran to them. Dropped to his knees so hard the pain shot up his legs, but he didn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel anything but the roaring in his ears.

Barty’s breathing was ragged, too shallow. His lips were stained red. His fingers twitched weakly against Evan’s jacket as if reaching for something he couldn’t quite grasp.

Evan held him like something sacred. “Hey. Hey, I’ve got you. You’re okay. We’re okay, Barty—”

Barty’s eyes found his.

They were glassy, already beginning to dim, but there was something there. A softness.

“Still... tied?” he rasped. Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth.

Evan choked on a sob. “Yeah. Yeah, you idiot. We’re still tied.”

Barty’s lips twitched into something like a smile. Faint. Crooked. Like a boy proud of a private joke.

“Beat... that…”

His chest hitched.

“No,” Evan begged. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you leave me, not like this—not now—”

Regulus couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. His hands were shaking.

Barty’s gaze flicked between them, slower now.

“You made me... believe,” he whispered. “In something. You always did.”

Another breath.

And then—

Stillness.

Barty’s eyes didn’t close. His body didn’t spasm. It just… stopped.

Evan screamed.

It wasn’t a sound meant for ears. It came from somewhere else—somewhere hollow and broken. It scraped the battlefield raw.

Regulus turned away, pressing his hand to his mouth.

Because watching Evan hold the man he loved, the man who died protecting him—watching the blood soak into Evan’s chest and the way he clung to Barty’s cooling body like he could will him back—

That was the moment Regulus realized that even if they won this war, none of them would leave it whole.

Regulus’ vision blurred. His legs gave out and he nearly collapsed, only barely caught by James’ strong grip from behind.

“Reg,” James said in his ear, voice shaking, “Reg—we have to move .”

Regulus shook his head, the sob cracking from his throat before he could stop it.

James pulled him tighter. “I know. I know . But we can’t fall apart now . Not here.”

Evan was still holding Barty’s body.

His arms cradled him like something sacred, something fragile—like if he just held on tightly enough, the world would rewind. His forehead pressed to Barty’s chest, his face buried in the blood-stained fabric of his shirt. His shoulders trembled violently, breath catching in short, choking gasps. He wasn’t crying—not exactly. He was too far gone for that. It was something deeper. Rawer. A soundless kind of grief, the kind that burned.

The kind that broke things.

Regulus stood frozen a few feet away, unsure whether he was still in his own body. Everything had gone quiet around them—like the chaos of battle had muted just for this moment. Just for them.

And then—slowly—Evan lifted his head.

His face was pale. Lips bloodless. There were smears of red across his cheek, his hands, his collar. His eyes were wet with tears that hadn’t fallen yet, but they were wrong—flat, glassy, unseeing.

Empty.

And then, like a shutter slamming closed, something inside him snapped .

His expression changed. The grief didn’t leave—it just folded into something sharper. Harder. His eyes, once alight with mischief and reckless energy, were now dead things. Cold and gleaming.

Regulus felt it the moment it happened.

The man they knew—Evan—the smirking, unpredictable spark who could laugh through anything... was gone.

He rose to his feet slowly, deliberately, letting Barty’s body settle gently on the broken stone. His hands lingered for a second too long—on Barty’s jaw, brushing his hair from his face. A touch like a goodbye.

Then, without a word, Evan bent and picked up his knives.

His grip was steady.

His breathing, eerily calm.

Blood dripped from his fingers as he turned, face set like marble.

And then he ran—straight into the fire.

“Evan—!” Regulus shouted, but it was too late.

He was already gone.

Not just physically—gone gone . Consumed. Devoured by something feral, something ruthless that wore his skin like a mask. He moved like a ghost, like death given form—fast and fluid and terrifying.

In the next minute, he killed ten people.

Ten.

And Regulus watched every second.

Evan didn’t hesitate. Didn’t blink. His blades were flashes of silver, streaking through the smoke like comets, catching the light only long enough to reflect the horror they left behind. He went for the throat, the ribs, the spine. Each movement was precise. Surgical.

Final.

One soldier raised a gun—Evan had slit his throat before he could pull the trigger.

Another lunged with a blade—Evan sidestepped and drove a knife into the base of his skull.

There was no scream.

No sound at all, really.

Just the wet crunch of flesh and the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground.

James released Regulus’s arm slowly, eyes wide with something that looked like awe—and fear.

“He’s…” James swallowed. “He’s not okay.”

Regulus didn’t answer right away.

He couldn’t.

Because all he could see was Evan’s back, disappearing into the smoke, his knives dripping red, his movements too fast, too quiet, too clean.

“He’s gone,” Regulus whispered finally. His voice cracked on the word. “He’s not himself.”

But even as he said it, something else stirred in his chest—quieter, heavier. A truth wrapped in heartbreak.

He’s doing it for Barty.

Every step. Every kill. Every unspoken scream.

It was grief turned to fury. Love turned to vengeance.

And maybe—maybe—it was enough to carry him through.

Regulus wiped at his face with the back of his hand, smearing tears with ash and sweat. He tasted blood in his mouth, didn’t know whose it was. Didn’t care.

James turned to him, face grim but steady. “Come on,” he said. “We can’t let him do this alone.”

Regulus looked at him—really looked—and nodded once.

There was no time for mourning.

No space for falling apart.

Because war didn’t wait for grief to finish breaking you.

It just kept coming.

So Regulus raised his gun, swallowed the scream clawing at his throat, and followed his friend into the fire.

Because if Evan was going to burn the world down for Barty—

Then Regulus would burn it with him.

Notes:

I.... sorry 🫣

Chapter 43: Blood Ties (Sirius & Remus' POV)

Sirius Black was in his element. The chaos of battle swirled around him, an unrelenting storm of noise and destruction, but he thrived in it. Every punch, every gunshot, every explosion—he reveled in the adrenaline. He was quick, brutal, and calculated, making sure every movement counted. No Erudite soldier was a match for him. Not when he was determined to protect the people he loved.

He could hear the screams of others, the clatter of weapons, the sickening crack of bones breaking under force—but none of that mattered right now. The only thing that mattered was the soldier in front of him, who foolishly thought he could land a blow on Sirius Black.

The soldier lunged, swinging a metal pipe at Sirius’s head, but Sirius ducked with ease, his reflexes honed over years of evading the Ministry’s best and outwitting enemies. With a practiced motion, he swept the man’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. He didn’t waste any time. With one swift kick, he knocked the pipe from the soldier’s hands and grabbed the man by his collar, lifting him to his feet only to slam him back into a nearby barricade.

“You’re out of your league, mate,” Sirius said with a grin, voice dripping with the same cocky arrogance that had made him a legend amongst the resistance. The soldier looked dazed, trying to recover, but he never had a chance. Sirius threw him against the wall and delivered a punch to his jaw so hard the sound of cracking bone rang through the air.

Sirius wasn’t even breathing heavily. This was easy. Too easy.

His eyes scanned the battlefield quickly, instinctively, checking the positions of his friends, ensuring they were safe. To his left, James was locking eyes with him, a grim nod exchanged between them. James was in his element too, a perfect commander in the thick of it, keeping his wits about him even under the most brutal conditions. He was fine.

But then, his gaze shifted to the right. Remus. Remus was a few paces back, handling his own soldier with that same precise efficiency that had made him a force to be reckoned with in their training. Sirius felt the familiar surge of pride for him, even amidst the chaos. His heart settled a little, knowing Remus could handle himself. He wasn’t just some frail scholar; he was a warrior in his own right.

Sirius watched, heart pounding, as Remus subdued the soldier with a sharp movement, disarming him, his face focused and sharp. Sirius didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath until he exhaled. His love. His partner. His everything.

Sirius went back to his own fight, taking down another soldier, knocking him unconscious with a brutal twist of his arm. He didn’t have time to linger on the satisfaction, though, because the battle was far from over, and there were still too many enemies to fight.

And then, just as he was about to land the final blow on the soldier in front of him, a sound froze him.

His mother’s voice.

“Sirius!” Her voice rang out across the battlefield, unmistakable even over the gunfire. It was a shriek—a commanding, venomous tone that made every nerve in his body seize up. His heart stuttered in his chest, as if his body didn’t know how to react to hearing that voice again, after everything that had happened.

Before he could even process what was happening, he felt a hand on his shoulder—gripping him with unrelenting force.

“Don’t move,” a voice growled from behind him.

He twisted, trying to shake it off, but another figure appeared in his peripheral vision. Orion. His father. A hulking presence, his face a mask of cold fury as he leveled a gun at Sirius’s chest.

Sirius froze. His mind raced, but his body locked in place. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. This was his mother and father—here, in the middle of this hellish war. In the one place he’d never expected them to be: standing on the battlefield, pointing guns at him. The cold weight of the situation hit him all at once. They were real. They were here.

And they had him.

“Put your hands where we can see them,” Walburga hissed, stepping forward, her own gun aimed with deadly accuracy. She looked exactly the same as she had the last time he saw her—cold, disapproving, like he was a stain on her perfect world. The rage in her eyes could’ve burned a hole through him.

For a moment, Sirius considered fighting. He considered pulling a move—anything to get out of this, to defy them one last time. But deep down, he knew. He was outnumbered. He wasn’t going to win this. His body was already worn down from the battle, and no matter how skilled he was, there was no way he could take on both of them.

His father stepped forward, grinning as he reached out to seize him. “It’s time for you to pay for your rebellion, boy.”

Sirius struggled, but it was no use. Orion’s grip tightened, dragging him backward. His mind spun with the chaos—he could hear Remus shouting his name from across the battlefield, but it was too late. He felt the world slip away as they dragged him, mercilessly, out of the fight.

He screamed. He didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t let them take him. He couldn’t.

But his voice was drowned out by the sounds of war—gunfire, explosions, and his own heartbeat thudding in his ears as the darkness crept in, swallowing him whole.

Before he could scream again, before he could do anything, he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head. The world went black.

 

***

 

Sirius could feel the blood pounding in his ears as he was dragged into the cold, dank room. His legs were weak, barely able to hold his weight as they shoved him forward, the sharp edges of iron cuffs biting into his wrists. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but it didn't matter. He was awake now.

And he was in hell.

The room smelled of mildew and decay, the air thick and suffocating. The walls, once grand and proud in their blackened stone, now felt like the tomb of his soul—cold, indifferent, oppressive. Every corner seemed to suffocate him more, the dim light flickering from the bare bulb above casting shadows that seemed to stretch like fingers across the floor.

Walburga stood just a few feet away, her eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. Her face, once a mask of icy composure, was twisted now into something darker, a reflection of her deep hatred. She had always looked at him with disappointment, but now, her gaze burned with a venom that was almost physical.

Orion was at her side, his massive form towering over Sirius like a shadow of doom. He said nothing, but his presence was a constant weight on Sirius's chest, suffocating him with the knowledge that he was utterly powerless in the face of them both. He could feel the familiar sting of his father’s judgment, the overwhelming presence of someone who had spent years breaking him down. But this? This was something else entirely.

"Get him ready," Walburga’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding.

Sirius didn’t move. His body was bruised, aching, and his mind was a swirl of panic and dread. He had to stay alert. He couldn’t break. Not now.

But his breath hitched as she moved closer. He could feel the heat of her rage like a flame against his skin. His chest tightened, his heart pounding wildly, but still, he held his tongue. He wouldn’t beg. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

She moved swiftly, grabbing a sharp, cold knife from the table beside her, the silver gleaming in the dim light. Sirius felt his breath catch as she approached, his stomach lurching at the thought of what was coming. She was relentless, her hands steady as she slid the blade across his chest, the cool steel against his skin sending a shiver through him.

It was nothing more than a shallow cut, but the sting was enough to make him bite down on his lip, trying desperately not to give her the satisfaction of hearing him scream. The pain bloomed in slow, agonizing waves. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was just enough to make his body react—muscles tensing, heart thumping.

“You’re nothing but a disappointment,” Walburga hissed, her voice low and venomous as she traced the knife’s edge across his skin, drawing another line of blood. "You could have been great, Sirius. You could have been the son we needed. Instead, you’ve become this—weak. Pathetic."

Sirius’s breath trembled, but he held his head high, refusing to meet her eyes. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. "You’re wrong," he muttered hoarsely. "You’ll never break me."

Her response was a cruel laugh, almost more like a bark than an actual sound. The cold blade pressed harder against his chest, cutting deeper this time, just enough to make the blood drip slowly down his skin, pooling at his waist.

“I don’t need to break you,” she purred, moving back to stand with Orion. “I just need to remind you of who you are. You’ll always be mine. You’ll always be a Black. And that means you’ll always belong to me.”

Sirius flinched but refused to cry out. His body was trembling, but he gritted his teeth, trying to focus through the pain. He couldn’t lose control. Not now. Not when he could still fight.

But as Walburga stepped back, Orion moved forward with a different tool, a thick iron rod glowing red at the end, the heat radiating off of it. Sirius's stomach dropped as he realized what was coming next.

“No,” he gasped, trying to pull away, but the ropes held him fast. He twisted against them, struggling, but the effort was useless. His body betrayed him, every move seeming to amplify the terror coursing through his veins.

"Do you think you can defy me, Sirius?" Orion growled, his voice rough with disdain as he stepped forward, his face twisted with anger. "This is for your own good. You were never meant to go against your blood."

The rod was shoved into his side, and the pain was unbearable. It wasn’t just heat—it was a searing fire, an agony unlike anything he had ever felt. The flesh on his side sizzled as the rod burned through him, the smell of charred skin mixing with the pungent scent of blood. His body arched in involuntary response, a scream ripping through his throat as the rod pressed deeper into him.

It felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only feel the burn, the searing heat, as his skin blistered and melted under the torture. His whole body was on fire. His head spun. The pain was unbearable, unrelenting.

“I know this hurts, Sirius,” Walburga said, her voice impossibly cold. "But you’ll understand soon enough. This is the only way."

His vision swam, but still, he fought to stay conscious. He couldn’t let them win. He wouldn’t break.

“You’re nothing,” she spat, her words cutting deeper than the knife. “You’re weak. Always have been.”

And just like that, she twisted the rod, deepening the burn, twisting it into his flesh. Sirius’s body trembled as a sob caught in his throat, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing it. He wouldn’t let them win.

Hours seemed to pass—hours of pain, hours of cold laughter from his parents. The room was a blur of pain and torment. Sirius’s chest heaved, his breath ragged, his body slick with sweat and blood. His vision was fading in and out as the physical trauma took its toll, but it was the emotional wounds—the words, the hatred in their eyes—that hurt the most.

The pain was unbearable. His body felt like it was being torn apart, piece by piece, but still, he held on. He wasn’t broken. He wouldn’t be.

But the longer the tortures continued, the harder it became to keep his resolve intact.

And in the depths of his heart, the only thought that kept him going was the hope that Remus would come for him—that somehow, someone out there cared enough to end this nightmare before it consumed him completely.

 

***

 

Every part of Remus screamed as he sprinted through the chaos of the battlefield, his body driven by a singular, ferocious purpose—Sirius. He could hear his heart hammering in his chest, thumping so loudly he thought it might burst. He had to get to him. He had to.

But then, just as the ruins of the battlefield loomed in front of him, blocking his way to Sirius, a figure appeared—someone he never thought he’d see again.

Lyall.

Remus’s heart stuttered, the blood draining from his face. His breath caught in his throat, but it wasn’t just the shock of seeing the man who had once been his father. It was the pure, unbridled rage that surged through him.

Lyall stood there, blocking his way, his eyes burning with hatred. His face twisted into something that was both unfamiliar and all too familiar—a cruel mask of contempt, full of blame and anger. Remus could feel the air around him grow thick with tension, the space between them suffocating.

“You,” Lyall spat, voice thick with venom. “You think you’re some bloody hero now? After everything you’ve done? You’ve ruined everything.”

Remus’s chest tightened, his fists clenching. The words hit harder than he expected, their weight cutting through him like a blade. He wanted to push past this, to move forward, to save Sirius. But Lyall wasn’t going to let him go that easily.

“What are you talking about?” Remus demanded, his voice low and strained with barely controlled fury.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Lyall sneered. “You exposed me. You told the resistance what kind of man I am. You ruined my life, Remus. You made me a pariah. Do you know what it’s like to be rejected by everything you’ve ever worked for? You did that. You destroyed me.”

Remus’s hands shook, but his anger drowned out the sting of the past. His mind was racing, every second taking him closer to Sirius, but here was Lyall—here was the man who had abused him for years, who had broken his family, who had torn his soul apart. Here was the man who never once saw him as a son.

“Your life?” Remus’s voice was colder than ice, every word biting. “You think you’re the victim here? You, who abandoned me, who never cared about me, who used me as a punching bag for your own miserable, pathetic existence? You’re angry because I exposed you for what you are—nothing more than a coward, hiding behind lies.”

Lyall’s eyes darkened, fury like a storm building in his chest. “Don’t you dare—” he started, but Remus didn’t let him finish.

“You don’t get to play the victim,” Remus spat, his voice a thunderclap of fury. “You’re the reason I had to leave. You’re the reason I was forced to hide who I was, because you couldn’t handle it. I didn’t ruin your life. I just made the truth known, something you were too fucking weak to admit.”

Lyall’s hands clenched into fists, his body trembling with barely restrained rage. “You ruined everything! You’ve cost me everything, Remus! You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? You think you’re some bloody hero because you told the world the truth? You think they’ll love you for it? They’ll hate you just as much as I do. You’re just as much of a monster as I am.”

Remus’s stomach churned, the hatred boiling in his chest like liquid fire. “You’re right. I’m not a hero. But I’m a hell of a lot better than you.”

Lyall’s expression twisted with disgust, his hand moving to his belt, pulling out a sleek, black gun. Remus’s heart froze in his chest as his father leveled it at him, the barrel glinting in the dim light of the battle around them.

“Get out of my way, Lyall,” Remus said, his voice steely, as he instinctively reached for his own weapon. He had no time for this. He had no time to fight the monster who had once been his father.

“I’m not moving,” Lyall growled, the gun now aimed squarely at Remus’s chest. “Not until you understand the consequences of your betrayal.”

Remus’s hands were shaking now, but not from fear—pure, furious adrenaline surged through him. The image of Sirius being dragged away by Walburga and Orion flashed in his mind, and the fury only grew stronger. His need to save him outweighed everything. “You’re not going to stop me. I’m not letting you get in the way of this.”

Lyall’s eyes were wild, full of hate, full of everything Remus had never wanted from a father. “You’ve always been weak,” he hissed. “Just like your mother. Always running away, always hiding from what you truly are. But you can’t hide now, Remus. I’m going to end this. I’m going to kill you before you can do any more damage.”

“I’m not running anymore,” Remus said, his voice low and dangerous. “And I’m not going to let you get in my way.”

Lyall’s finger tightened on the trigger, his face contorting with fury. “You think you’re in control? You’re nothing, Remus. Nothing.”

Before Remus could react, the gunshot rang out. The world seemed to slow, the sound of the shot vibrating in the air like a death knell. But Remus was already moving—he had to.

The gun aimed at his chest. Lyall’s eyes wide with madness. But Remus wasn’t fast enough to dodge.

With a growl, Lyall pulled the trigger.

Time seemed to freeze.

But then, Remus’s instinct took over. He grabbed Lyall’s wrist, the gun jerking slightly off target, and in the same motion, his own weapon came into play. He fired. Once. Twice.

Lyall staggered, his eyes wide with disbelief. The gun slipped from his grasp, his body jerking as the bullets hit home. He collapsed to the ground with a terrible, wet sound.

Remus stood over him, breathing hard, eyes wild. His heart hammered in his chest, but the adrenaline didn’t stop. It didn’t slow.

The figure on the ground was his father. The man who should have loved him. The man who should have cared. But the man who never did. The man who caused Remus more pain than he could ever understand.

And now he was gone.

But Remus didn’t feel relief. Not yet. Not with Sirius still out there, taken by the people who would hurt him. Not when everything had led to this moment.

Sirius needed him.

With shaking hands, Remus turned, his heart still racing, and sprinted towards the end of the battlefield, where his love waited.

Notes:

Ughhh can they not catch break?!?

Walburga and Orion... just no.

And bye bye Lyall

Chapter 44: No More Chains (Remus' POV)

The air was thick with the scent of smoke and blood as Remus sprinted through the streets of London, his mind focused solely on one thing: Sirius. He had to get to him. Now. His heart beat heavily in his chest, every beat a reminder of how precious time was. Lyall’s death had been a necessary evil, but it didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered but finding Sirius.

Grimmauld Place was just ahead, its ancient facade looming in the distance like a grim shadow. His breath was ragged as he reached the front gate, almost tripping in his desperation. He heard them—the screams. They were faint, but unmistakable. A gut-wrenching cry echoed from the building. It was Sirius. His heart lurched, a flash of dread and fury sweeping through him.

Sirius was in pain. It was too much. Remus was done with the waiting, done with being scared. His entire body was a coil of tension, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles burned. He knew, deep in his gut, that if he didn’t act now, he might lose the only person he had left in the world.

He didn’t think. He moved.

The front door of Grimmauld Place creaked under the pressure of his booted kick. The sound split the silence of the house like thunder. As the door swung open, the sight before him stopped Remus dead in his tracks.

There was Sirius.

Tied to a chair in the center of the living room, his body bruised and battered, his face pale and streaked with tears. His hair, usually so wild and free, was matted against his skin from sweat and blood. The scene froze Remus for a second—his mind reeling.

And then he heard it.

A hoarse, weak whisper. Barely audible. A name.

“Moony...”

Remus’s breath caught in his throat. The world around him dissolved. All he could see was Sirius—tied up, tortured, broken. Remus’s heart shattered. He felt something snap inside him. The terror and pain from his soul merged into a single, sharp point of rage. He had spent years thinking he wasn’t enough, thinking he wasn’t strong enough for Sirius. But right now, all he could feel was this burning, unstoppable need to save him.

He was enough for Sirius. And he was going to prove it.

With a roar, Remus pulled the gun from his holster and fired without hesitation.

Orion Black dropped to the ground, a shot in his chest, the gun in his hand falling uselessly beside him. Walburga screamed in horror, but Remus didn’t hesitate. His gun was still aimed at her, steady and sure.

“ No! No! You can’t just— ” she began, her voice high-pitched with fury, but the words didn’t matter. They never had.

“I can,” Remus said, his voice cold as ice. His hands were shaking, but the rage inside him kept him steady. “I can do whatever the hell I want. I’m getting him out of here.”

Walburga’s eyes were like daggers as she rushed forward, a knife gleaming in her hand, aimed at Sirius’s throat. She raised it high, her lips curling into a vicious sneer.

“You think you can just come in here and take my son away from me? You’re nothing but a parasite. I should’ve never allowed this to happen. You, you’ve turned him into—into this!” Her voice broke, disgust seeping through her words.

Remus froze. His heart was a drumbeat in his ears. She was holding a knife to Sirius’s neck. He could hear Sirius’s ragged breaths, feel the tremors of fear radiating off him. Every instinct screamed at him to move, to shoot her, but he couldn’t. Not with the knife at Sirius’s throat.

“Let him go,” Remus demanded, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He needed to stay calm. He needed to think.

“You think you can control him? He was mine. My son. And now he’s just... this. A pathetic, broken thing who loves —” Walburga’s sneer deepened, her eyes cold with hatred. “A boy .”

The word hit Remus like a slap across the face, but his rage only deepened. He had heard of her venom before. He knew the hatred she held for who Sirius loved, for him. But it didn’t matter anymore.

Before she could finish her venomous rant, Remus squeezed the trigger again. The bullet tore through the air and pierced Walburga’s chest. She gasped, the knife slipping from her hand as she staggered back. Her eyes went wide with shock, but there was no time for pity.

She crumpled, her body falling to the floor with a heavy thud, and Remus was already at Sirius’s side before her body had even hit the ground.

The ropes were tight, but Remus didn’t hesitate. His hands were shaking as he fumbled with the knots, his breath catching as Sirius’s weak, broken gaze locked onto his.

“Sirius,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Sirius’s eyes fluttered, his head sagging as the ropes fell away from his wrists. His body collapsed into Remus’s arms, his breathing shallow, his face pale and drenched in sweat. Remus’s heart broke all over again as he held him, running his hands through Sirius’s matted hair, trying to soothe him, even though he was trembling too.

“I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry...” Remus repeated, over and over, pressing soft kisses to Sirius’s forehead. “You’re safe now. We’re going to be okay. I won’t leave you. I swear to you.”

Sirius’s eyes opened briefly, a ghost of a smile flickering across his face. But the smile was quickly overtaken by the tears spilling from his eyes. He buried his face into Remus’s chest, sobbing weakly.

Remus held him tightly, cradling him against his chest, feeling the weight of the years of suffering Sirius had endured. It broke him. The thought of everything Sirius had been through, the torture, the fear—it made Remus’s blood boil. He wanted to rip the world apart to make it stop, but all he could do was hold Sirius and promise him that it was over.

“That’s it, love,” Remus whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re free now. We’re both free.”

Sirius didn’t respond with words. Instead, his body trembled, shaking with pain, with everything he had suffered. But Remus was there, pulling him closer, holding him together, just like Sirius had always done for him.

They stayed there for a long time, in the wreckage of Grimmauld Place, Sirius’s tears soaking through Remus’s shirt as he clung to him. For the first time, Remus wasn’t the one falling apart. He wasn’t the one who was broken.

And yet, as they slowly stood together, their bodies leaning on one another for support, Remus knew that they weren’t out of the woods yet. He could still hear the distant roar of battle in the streets, the distant crack of gunfire. But it didn’t matter.

For the first time in years, Remus felt like he had something solid to fight for. Someone. He would do anything to keep Sirius safe. Anything.

They left the burning house together, Remus half carrying Sirius, their footsteps heavy in the silence that followed. Neither of them spoke, but neither needed to.

They were going to be okay. Together.

And no one—nothing—would ever take that from them again.

Notes:

Get 'em Moony!!

Love them 🩷

Chapter 45: The Betrayer

The air was thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood. Screams echoed across the shattered cityscape, broken only by the percussion of gunfire and the low, sickening thuds of bodies hitting the ground.

Regulus's blade was slick with blood—his hands shaking not from fear, but from the adrenaline screaming through his veins. Beside him, James was yelling orders, voice hoarse from hours of battle.

“Back! Fall back from the front lines!” James shouted. “They're using the serum!”

Regulus turned just in time to see a rebel convulse, eyes wide, before plunging a blade into her own stomach. Another soldier followed, and another. The suicide serum. Erudite had unleashed it again, and now chaos bloomed like fire across the front.

Panic surged through the resistance. James’s voice cracked as he ordered medics to pull the injured back. Regulus, breathless, spun around to find new targets, to help whoever he could—

And then he saw him.

Dumbledore.

Moving through the battlefield like he didn’t belong in it, like he wasn’t even part of the war. His long coat fluttered behind him as he sprinted toward the shell of a partially collapsed building marked with the Erudite symbol. Regulus froze.

Something inside him whispered— Follow.

He didn’t think. He turned to James and grabbed his arm. “There—Dumbledore. He’s going somewhere. I don’t know why, but we have to follow him. Now.”

James looked over, eyebrows knitting. “You sure?”

“No,” Regulus said. “But I need you to trust me.”

Together, they broke from the line of battle, weaving through rubble and fallen bodies, ducking into the same building Dumbledore had entered. Regulus’s skin prickled as they moved from chaos into eerie silence. The halls of the old Erudite command center were too clean. Too intact. Too empty.

James raised his gun, and Regulus motioned for silence. They slipped deeper inside, following Dumbledore’s path like shadows.

“He said once,” Regulus whispered, “that he was looking for something important. Hidden data. Maybe this is it.”

James nodded. “Then we cover him.”

The hallway forked—just as they caught sight of a guard. Blue uniform. Armed.

James didn’t hesitate. He slipped forward like a phantom and shot the man cleanly through the head. The body slumped silently, blood already pooling beneath it.

But Dumbledore was gone.

“Shit,” Regulus hissed. “We lost him.”

They crept forward, cautious now, checking every corner, every shadow. Regulus’s gut churned. The building had too many layers—something about it felt designed to trap. The quiet wasn’t comforting. It was suffocating.

And then they heard it—voices at the end of the hallway.

They edged closer. Regulus’s heart thundered as he peeked through the glass of the heavy door.

His blood froze.

Riddle stood near a control console, a gun aimed squarely at the head of Minerva McGonagall. Her eyes were defiant despite the blood trailing from her lip.

But it was the man sitting calmly in the control chair behind them that turned Regulus’s world upside down.

Dumbledore.

Alive. Calm. Watching.

Regulus’s throat tightened. He turned to James, whispering urgently, “Riddle has Dumbledore.”

James nodded, gun raised.

They burst through the door—ready for anything.

Anything except what they saw.

Dumbledore didn’t look like a hostage. He didn’t even look alarmed. He looked... comfortable.

He turned slowly in his chair, eyes alight with something cold and calculating.

“Regulus,” he said, voice gentle. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Regulus’s stomach dropped. “How could you?” he choked out.

Dumbledore didn’t flinch. “It had to be done.”

James stepped forward. “You betrayed us. You led the Erudite to Abnegation. People died . Innocents.”

“They were... necessary sacrifices,” Dumbledore said, standing now. He walked past Riddle like they were allies. “We needed a clean slate. Divergents are unpredictable. Dangerous. The resistance was crumbling. This world needs structure.”

“You’re working with him ?” Regulus snapped, pointing to Riddle. “With the man who’s been slaughtering our people?”

Riddle smiled. “You still think you’re fighting for something pure.”

Minerva spoke, voice hoarse. “He’s lying to you, Regulus. He’s always been lying.”

Dumbledore turned on her, backhanding her so hard she stumbled. James flinched toward her, but the barrel of Dumbledore’s gun snapped up—aimed directly at him.

“Don’t,” he warned.

Regulus raised his gun. His hands were shaking now, but his aim was true. “Let her go. Put the gun down.”

Dumbledore didn’t listen. Instead, he nodded toward Riddle. “Activate it.”

Riddle stepped toward the control console. “The serum has evolved. Not just injection or blades now. It’s airborne. A mist. Inhaled. You won’t even know when it’s taken you. You’ll simply obey.”

“No,” Regulus whispered.

Minerva cried out. “Don’t let them do this! Fight—!”

Dumbledore struck her again, knocking her to the ground. He turned, gun now aimed at James. “I warned you not to interfere.”

Regulus didn’t think.

He fired.

Riddle screamed as the bullet tore through his arm. The console sparked where his hand had been reaching. Dumbledore whirled, furious, and took aim at James—

Minerva, with a surge of defiance, lunged upward and headbutted Dumbledore squarely in the jaw. He reeled backward.

Regulus shot again—straight into Dumbledore’s chest.

Everything froze.

Dumbledore slumped against the wall, gasping, a look of disbelief etched on his face. Regulus rushed to the console, fingers flying across unfamiliar controls. The mist container was primed. Seconds from release.

He shut it down. Pulled wires. Overrode the command. Everything.

The system shut off.

He turned back—James was on his knees beside Minerva, holding her gently. Riddle, clutching his ruined arm, snarled through the pain.

“You’re fools,” Riddle spat. “You think this changes anything? You think people want freedom? They want to be told . They want to be safe . Control is the only way to peace.”

Regulus stepped forward, gun still raised. “Then peace isn’t what we want.”

Riddle sneered. “You’ll regret this.”

James’s fist connected with Riddle’s jaw with a sickening crack. The man went down like a felled tree, crumpling beside Dumbledore’s lifeless body with a soft, thudding finality.

And then—
Silence.

The kind that doesn’t feel like peace but like the air right before it caves in. The quiet that follows when everything loud and violent has ended, but your ears still ring with ghosts.

Regulus stood there frozen, gun still raised, his whole body trembling. Smoke drifted lazily through the ruined room, curling like fingers around their feet. Sparks fizzed from the console where the serum had nearly been unleashed.

It was over. It was over .

And he couldn’t move.

James crossed the room in three long strides and pulled him into a tight embrace. There were no words—not yet. Just arms, strong and steady, wrapping around him like the only thing keeping him upright.

Regulus didn’t resist. He couldn’t. The weight of everything—everything—collapsed onto him all at once. His knees buckled slightly, but James held him up, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other gripping his shoulder like he was anchoring him to this moment, to this world.

Regulus didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the tears hit James’s collar.

“You saved us,” James whispered against his hair. His voice cracked. “You saved everyone .”

Regulus let out a soft, strangled sound—somewhere between a sob and a breath—and held James tighter. He buried his face in his shoulder, not caring about the blood, the dirt, the exhaustion. All that mattered was that James was alive. That Minerva was alive. That the serum hadn’t been released. That for once— for once —he had done something right.

He didn’t want to let go. Not of James. Not of this moment. Because as broken as everything felt, as splintered and raw and torn to shreds as the world was... this? This was real. This was something he had fought for.

“I didn’t know if we’d make it,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “I didn’t know if we could stop them.”

James leaned back just enough to meet his eyes. His gaze was fierce, but gentle. “You did . You trusted your gut. You saw the truth.”

Regulus blinked hard, trying to force down the ache in his chest, the sob still lodged in his throat. “It shouldn’t have been him . I—I believed in Dumbledore. I thought he wanted to help us.”

“He lied to all of us,” James said softly. “But you saw through it. When it mattered most.”

They stood there like that for a long moment, holding each other in the wreckage of what almost was—the near-end of everything.

And as the smoke began to thin and the sound of distant gunfire quieted outside, Regulus slowly pulled back, looking around at the room that had nearly become their grave.

The world had fallen apart.

But maybe, just maybe...

In the ashes of betrayal and blood and ruin—
Something better could still be built.

And they would be the ones to build it.

Together.

Notes:

what would a marauders story be without a little Dumbledore slander 🤷‍♀️

James and Regulus... the men you are

I don't even wanna know how many times I have used the word "together" in this story 😭

Chapter 46: The End Of The War (Remus' POV)

The smoke curled up from the crumbled buildings like fingers reaching toward a sky that had watched too much blood fall.

Remus gripped Sirius tighter against him, half-carrying, half-dragging him across the shattered remains of the square. Sirius’s body trembled from pain, his skin burning hot where Remus’s arm wrapped around his ribs. Every breath from him was shallow, wet, broken. But still, Sirius kept moving, refusing to fall.

They’d made it this far. Remus wasn’t letting go now.

Ash clung to their boots as they stepped through the carnage. Here and there, Dauntless rebels stood in grim clusters, tending to the wounded, reloading weapons, preparing for the next round. But something was shifting in the air—something thick with anticipation, like the world had inhaled and refused to exhale.

Then Remus saw them.

In the center of the battlefield, through the fog and wreckage, stood a small group.

James. Regulus. Minerva.

And between them—restrained, bloodied, sneering—was Tom Riddle.

Remus stopped, tightening his grip on Sirius as the battlefield went still. A silence spread, eerie and total. Even the wind seemed to die.

James raised his voice.

“This ends now.”

Hundreds of eyes turned. Rebels. Soldiers. Erudite operatives. Everyone watched.

James shoved Riddle forward.

“He has something to say.”

Riddle staggered slightly but caught himself. His face was twisted with fury and contempt, his hands bound behind him, blood smeared down one temple. But his eyes—those snake-slit eyes—still gleamed with something vicious. Refusing to bend, even now.

His lip curled as he looked over the crowd.

“I am being forced to say this,” he began, voice like acid. “So don’t mistake it for defeat. Don’t mistake it for submission.”

He turned his glare on James, then Regulus, as if daring them to pull the trigger just to shut him up.

“The Erudite… surrender,” he spat, like the words were poison in his mouth.

The battlefield was silent, stunned. Erudite soldiers, still clutching weapons, glanced at one another as if waiting for someone to laugh, to undo the moment. But it never came.

“You vermin think this changes anything?” Riddle snarled, voice rising. “You think you’ve won? This world—this pathetic mess of chaos and contradiction—it will tear itself apart without people like me to lead it.”

James stepped forward, but Minerva raised a hand to stop him.

Her voice rang out. “Enough.”

She stepped into view, her posture straight despite the bruises on her face and the blood caked along her jaw. Her eyes, bright and unwavering, scanned the soldiers who had once followed Riddle’s every command.

“We all came from somewhere broken,” she said. “Factions, rules, tests, control. And all it gave us was this—war. Death. Division.”

Minerva raised her voice. “The factions are done. They died the moment we stopped seeing each other as human.”

Some in the crowd shifted uncomfortably. Others lowered their weapons. Eyes widened. Mouths parted. This wasn’t the speech of a victor—it was the beginning of something none of them understood yet.

“You are not Erudite,” Minerva said. “You are not Dauntless. Or Abnegation. Or Divergent. You are people. And you have a choice now. Drop your weapons. Join us. We rebuild—not in power or control—but in truth.”

No one moved at first.

And then… the first rifle hit the ground.

Then another. Then a blade.

Soon, the clatter of weapons falling into ash and rubble echoed across the battlefield like a new kind of anthem.

Riddle’s expression twisted into something unhinged. “You’re all fools ,” he hissed. “They’ll crawl back to chains the moment things get hard. You think people want freedom? They want obedience. Safety. They want me.”

“No,” Minerva said, pulling a sleek pistol from her belt. “They don’t.”

Riddle sneered. “You think killing me changes that?”

Minerva didn’t blink.

“For the lives you took. For the fear. For the lies. For every child you turned into a weapon.”

She fired.

The bullet struck Riddle clean through the chest. His body dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

There was no cheer. No celebration.

Just the sound of the world exhaling at last.

Remus’s legs finally gave out. He dropped to his knees, Sirius coming down with him, the two of them half-collapsed in the dust and smoke. Sirius leaned into him, his face buried against Remus’s shoulder, his breath ragged with more than just pain.

Remus wrapped both arms around him, burying his face in Sirius’s hair.

“You’re safe,” he whispered. “We’re here. We made it.”

Sirius shook against him. Not just from the pain, but from everything. The weight of what had been done to him. The family that hurt him. The battle that broke him.

Remus held him tighter.

For once, he wasn’t the one falling apart.

And he would not let Sirius fall alone.

Across the square, Regulus gripped James’s shoulder like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Minerva turned away from Riddle’s body and looked out across the battlefield with eyes that saw not victory—but responsibility.

“We build something new,” she said. “From the ashes.”

People nodded. Slowly. Hesitantly. Some were crying. Others just looked numb.

But no one argued.

Remus pressed a kiss to Sirius’s temple.

“This is real,” he murmured. “It’s over.”

Sirius, still shaking, whispered, “What do we do now?”

Remus closed his eyes, held him tighter.

“We live.”

Notes:

YESSS goodbye Riddle

Chapter 47: After The Fire

In the days that followed, the remnants of the factions began to dissolve. The rigid structures that had once dictated every aspect of life were dismantled, brick by brick, rule by rule.

Minerva emerged as the new leader—not by force, but by the collective trust of those who had witnessed her unwavering commitment to truth and justice. Her first decree was simple yet profound: the abolition of the faction system. No longer would people be categorized and confined; they would be free to choose their paths, to define their identities beyond predetermined labels.

The transition was not without challenges. The city bore the scars of division, and healing would take time. But there was a collective will to move forward, to learn from the past and build a society rooted in empathy and understanding.

Evan, once vibrant and full of life, now moved through the days with a quiet solemnity. The loss of Barty had carved a hollow space within him, one that no words could fill. Yet, he found solace in the presence of his friends, in the shared memories and the silent support that needed no articulation.

Regulus often found Evan sitting by the remnants of the old library, a place that had once been a symbol of Erudite knowledge and now stood as a testament to resilience. They would sit together, sometimes in silence, sometimes sharing stories of the past, allowing the memories to weave a tapestry of remembrance and healing.

The Erudite, stripped of their power, faced a crossroads. Many chose to step away from positions of authority, acknowledging the role they had played in the oppression. Others sought redemption, offering their knowledge to aid in the reconstruction of the city.

Regulus found himself working alongside former Erudite scholars, repurposing their research to develop sustainable systems for the new society. It was a delicate balance, merging the remnants of the old with the vision of the new, but it was a start.

James, ever the strategist, took on the task of organizing community assemblies, ensuring that every voice was heard in the shaping of the city's future. His leadership was marked by inclusivity and transparency, qualities that inspired trust and unity.

Together, Regulus and James navigated the complexities of rebuilding, their bond strengthening with each challenge overcome. Their love, once forged in the crucible of conflict, now blossomed in the fertile ground of hope and renewal.

As the city slowly transformed, so did its people. Walls that had once divided now became canvases for art and expression. Markets sprang up where checkpoints had stood, filled with the vibrant colors of produce and the melodies of street musicians.

Children played freely in the open spaces, their laughter a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Elders shared stories of the past, ensuring that the lessons learned would not be forgotten.

The city was not perfect—there were still disagreements, still remnants of pain—but there was a collective commitment to growth, to learning, and to compassion.

 

***

 

Regulus stood at the edge of the rooftop, the city sprawled beneath him, a broken but mending landscape. The sun was beginning its slow climb, casting an orange glow over the remnants of what had once been a faction-driven world. Now, in its place, there were whispers of something different. Something new.

James’s arm draped around his shoulders, the pressure a constant reminder of the bond they shared. It was a silent connection now, forged in the fires of loss and victory, grief and triumph. The past was heavy on their hearts, but the future was tentative—fragile, yet full of promise.

He didn’t speak. What could he say? There were no words for the hollow place inside, for the part of him that still ached for what had been lost and for the people they could never bring back. Still, he felt the pull of something new—a flicker of hope that hadn’t existed before. The silence was their shared moment of peace. The chaos was over. For now.

They weren’t alone for long. The door to the rooftop creaked open, and Sirius emerged first. His gait was slower than usual, each step measured, his movements cautious but steady. He still carried the weight of the past with him—like all of them did—but there was something different in the way he held himself. Even battered, even broken, there was a defiant strength in him now. He wasn't the same man who had left this place.

Remus followed a step behind, a quiet figure in contrast to Sirius’s presence. Regulus had seen how the two of them had changed, how their bond had become something unspeakable, something that transcended everything they’d gone through. Remus’s eyes followed Sirius like a shadow, not quite hovering, but always present. Always there, with a steady hand or a quiet word when needed.

Regulus stepped aside to give them space, watching as Sirius leaned against the ledge, his eyes scanning the horizon. The city was rebuilding. It had to.

"This view sucks less now," Sirius muttered with a half-smile.

Remus snorted, looking at him with something close to affection, even though his own weariness was still heavy on his shoulders. "You’re ridiculous."

"You’re ridiculous," Sirius shot back, but the smile he gave Remus softened the insult.

Regulus allowed himself a quiet chuckle as he watched the two of them interact. There was something beautiful about it, about how they fit together—like two broken halves finding a way to make themselves whole. Even after everything they’d endured. Even after everything they'd lost.

But then, Sirius turned to face Remus, and the playfulness in his eyes faded. There was something deeper there now—something fragile, something tender.

"I wasn’t sure I’d make it out of there," Sirius said quietly. "But you... you came for me. You always come for me."

Remus didn’t flinch. Didn’t step away. He just reached out, brushing his fingers against the burned skin of Sirius’s wrist, where the marks of torture were still visible, fading but never truly gone. "I’ll always come for you, Sirius."

Sirius let out a long breath, eyes closing as if he were trying to steady himself. Regulus couldn’t help but notice how close they were now—how perfectly they fit together, their connection undeniable. It was the kind of bond he had never known. The kind of love he’d long given up on.

"I thought," Sirius began, his voice shaking just a little, "I thought maybe I didn’t deserve anything good. Not after everything—after what my family made me."

"Stop," Remus whispered, placing his hand over Sirius’s heart, the weight of it grounding them both. "You deserve everything good, Sirius. You’ve always deserved it."

Regulus’s throat tightened at the quiet exchange. He had never had someone who would say something like that to him. Not a single person who could look at him and say with certainty that he deserved something more than the darkness that had always followed him. But Sirius had found it. Found it in Remus, and maybe that was enough for him, too.

"I wasn’t the one taking care of you," Sirius muttered softly, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "I should’ve been. I should’ve—"

"You were," Remus interjected gently, his voice filled with the certainty of someone who had seen too much suffering to deny the quiet victories. "You always were."

Sirius looked up then, meeting Remus’s eyes with an intensity that made Regulus step back even further, as if he were intruding on something too private to witness.

Then, without warning, Sirius pulled Remus close, his hands grasping the back of his neck, and kissed him.

It wasn’t the passionate, fiery kiss of someone with something to prove. It was something quieter. Something more vulnerable. Something that, after all they had been through, was simply the only thing that made sense.

Regulus turned away from them, giving them the space they needed. He felt like he was intruding on something sacred, something that was theirs alone. For a moment, it seemed as though the world stood still—everything falling into place in the most unlikely of ways.

James nudged him lightly, bringing him back into the present. The sun had crested over the horizon, spilling light across the broken city below. Slowly, he turned, his gaze shifting to where Sirius and Remus were still standing—together, their arms around one another as they whispered softly, the world falling away around them.

"You alright?" James asked quietly, his hand resting on Regulus’s shoulder.

Regulus didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t know what to say. All the words he might have had felt too small for this moment. Too insignificant for everything they’d just survived.

Instead, he just nodded, leaning into James’s touch. "Yeah," he whispered. "I think I am."

James squeezed his shoulder before pulling him into a quick hug. "We made it through, Reg. Together."

Regulus didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t need to. They both knew what it meant. They’d survived the impossible. They’d done it with broken hearts and shattered dreams. But here they were, standing in a world that was still worth saving.

And as he turned to look back at Sirius and Remus, he could see the promise of something new unfolding in their quiet embrace. A future. A future that they would build together. A future that wasn’t defined by the factions, by the wars, by the people who had tried to tear everything apart.

This was their world now. Their revolution.

Regulus’s gaze lingered on the two of them, knowing that whatever happened next—whatever they had to face—it would be worth it. Together, they could rebuild.

They would rebuild.

He stepped closer to James, wrapping his arm around him, feeling the steady pulse of their combined strength. He could hear the voices of the others on the ground, working to piece together something better from the wreckage.

And for the first time in a long while, Regulus felt a sense of hope—not because everything was fixed, but because they were finally moving forward. Together.

As they stood on the rooftop, James and Regulus side by side, they watched the sky shift into a deeper blue, the sun casting its rays over the city below. The fires had burned out. The ashes had settled. Now, there was only the future.

"We made it," James murmured, his voice carrying the weight of everything they had endured.

Regulus looked at him, his heart full of something raw and real. "Now we change it."

And with that, they stood together, watching the world begin again.

Notes:

I left this somewhat open-ended in case I want to add the 3rd "Divergent" book. I have a plot, I'm just not sure if I actually wanna write it tbh 😂 Let me know what you guys would prefer, otherwise this might just stay a duology.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Marauders x Divergent