proditeur
Regulus has never been an idle man.
He has always been patient, but never idle. Watching and waiting is not the same as doing nothing and here, in this place, despite its comforts and despite the calm, his fingers itch with the need for usefulness.
He thinks perhaps that he and James are the same.
When James lowers down to the floor Regulus sinks opposite him, with his back to the windows and his legs stretched out towards the middle of the room. Harry sits on his bum by his father’s leg, crashing his bright yellow Tonka into James’ knee with all the glee of an imaginative young boy screaming, “Bffff bfff bff bffff!” for the auditory effect.
It’s a pleasant, wholesome scene and Regulus can’t understand why he feels so unnerved. Perhaps it’s because he’s seen the terrible power of Voldemort first hand; because he shadowed him, followed him, believed in him and sat front row to the horrid means with which he would achieve his ends. Regulus knows the lengths to which he will go to find and destroy the Potters and now himself.
Having saved James, Lily and Harry was worth the loss of all his advantages.
They’ve been the kindest to him since his introduction to the Order. Out of everyone they had been the warmest, the most grateful, the most trusting—and it’s due only to their acceptance of him that he hasn’t completely sunk to the isolation. A room full of people and here I am, an island still.
Sirius has been less than welcoming—and part of Regulus thinks the only reason Sirius has agreed to his being involved at all is because of James. Ironic. After so many years of having regarded James as his enemy (something that Regulus isn’t sure was reciprocated), James is his biggest advocate. His (Regulus’ expression is halfway between a smile and a cringe as he thinks it)… friend.
Remus doesn’t come around often—Regulus suspects he’s off doing something secretive, but doesn’t dare suggest what. Dumbledore wears a smile and watches him with twinkling eyes but Regulus can feel his distrust, his doubts, closing his manipulations around Regulus’ neck like the strings of a marionette. Lily has always been kind to him… and Harry?
The boy doesn’t know any better.
They’re all right to be suspicious of him, he thinks. Saving the Potters could be some elaborate ploy to gain their trust and see them finally ended and the fact that James has become such an adamant ally of his is… shocking.
But not unappreciated.
Regulus leans his head back until it —thunks! into the wall, and he lazily watches Harry begin to turn over every toy and pillow in the room. He’s looking for something.
Oh no.
He pretends that he doesn’t know what Harry is looking for (foolishly, he hopes Harry will forget about his little toy car) and turns his eyes back to James.
“… I’d like to.” More than anything he wants to finish what he started. It’s his job, his fault, his task. Were it not for Regulus they wouldn’t know about the horcrux at all—and were it not for his observational skills they wouldn’t know there was more than one (Regulus himself hadn’t put it together until much later). But he’s here, stuck between this place and his own safehouse because Voldemort is almost just as eager to catch the traitor than he is the Chosen One.
It’s dangerous for all of them, now.
“A person’s likely to go mad like this,” he looks down at his hands, touches his fingertips together each in turn as if to decide whether or not he’s still real. “The sensible part of you knows you should stay but the parts of you that know you can do more are hammering to get out.” Listen to him complain—how long have Lily and James been in hiding? Months before he got there. He takes a look at James—a long, scrutinizing look—and tries to decipher his expression. Being observant has always played to Regulus’ advantage but he’s still new to this place, to these people, and he often catches himself staring more often than he ought to. But the patterns are there, he thinks—the way they think, the way they behave… the kind of people they are.
Very different than the people he came from.
“How’re you feeling about it, then?” he ventures, trying not to train his eyes too hard on James’ gaze; trying not to look too interested. If he was James—which he certainly was not—he thought he might grow resentful of everyone else’s freedom. And were they really so different now? Both of them shackled to the calm safety of a safehouse for their own good.
Well, what ‘good’ were they, doing nothing?
“You’ve been at this longer than I have. Watching your friends go off—” he gestures towards the door but stops, realizing he’s perhaps crossed an uncomfortable line. “Well… I’m sure there’ll be a horcrux or two left to find by the time it’s our turn.
“The bastard.”
james gives that a look. it’s not so much that he’s getting better at HIDING his feelings on the subject, he’s just better at not verbalizing them. he’s moving his sons little tonka truck around like an airplane, with harry’s chubby fingers following it this way & that and THAT is truly the only reason he hasn’t gone mad. well, MAD-DER. he WANTS to go after peter. james knows he’s never been a particularly forgiving, think-before-you-leap man, but there is little he’s wanted MORE than to go after the traitorous rat. little he’s craved quite like the fire beneath his skin, burning his every touch. he needs to have him EXPLAIN not why (he GETS why, honestly and truthfully he gets why), but rather HOW. how he could betray not only his brother, but his nephew. TWO YEAR OLD HARRY who still clapped when uncle ‘womy’ walked in the room. well, truthfully james isn’t even sure he wants an explanation. maybe he really does just want revenge and that thought should scare him a whole lot more than it does. and with that in mind, it makes sense he just so coincidentally got the first ‘at home’ watch. why sirius, who isn’t tethered to the whole ‘harry needs a father’ narrative like james is, was paired with lily. for all the things in this world james potter wants, nothing comes close to what he’ll DO for harry. for harry, he’ll even sit still. james relents the toy to his son when he finally catches it in a swift motion that makes james proud.
“ splendid. ” james replies, letting the back of his head hit the seat of the chair and fall back onto it. his curls had gotten longer than normal, flopping just enough to cover his eyes and he removes his glasses long enough to rub his eyes. splendid, splendid, splendid. not to be all woe is me, but when he’d imagined 22 (married, no less) he hadn’t really really pictured being an enemy of the state as the headliner. he hadn’t expected to have one less marauder, and one more black. honestly? and he knows it’s naive to even think it . . . but he’d honestly thought they’d have won by now. “ i think the idea was that it’s supposed to get easier. ” he reasons. but it hasn’t, has it? for all their fighting . . . how much ground have they gained? for the lives lost to the war, how many of those were victories? he sat up and played with one of harry’s little unruly curls. twisting off at the ends and sprouting like mandrake’s he had his grandfather’s hair. maybe that’s what’s different about him now. all those steadfast and iron-clad beliefs he’d clutched for so long. maybe he’d been WRONG. not the fight, no he’d never give up the fight. but maybe his role in it. after all people can surprise you. FATE can surprise you. and what’s to say, if the opportunity arises that james wouldn’t give himself up to give his son a chance? realistically, what’s to say they win AND he survives? the mortality of it all surprisingly doesn’t bother him. there’s something else that does. it’s this that brings the thought to his lips. “ you would take care of him, right? ” he asks, seemingly apropos of nothing. but he’s beginning to realize not everything comes true. sometimes, the worst possible scenario happens and james would be the world’s worst father such he presume his duties end with death. “ i know sirius is godfather and has legal guardianship should lily and i die, but you’d stay right? “ he combs the bangs over harry’s forehead contemplatively. he really shouldn’t be getting so war speech-y so early in the visit, but when is the right time? when is a good time to say hey, you’ll make sure my son knows his father loves him, right? “ i want harry to have a good life regardless of whether i’m there or not. you, sirius, remus . . . you’d keep him safe, right? ” he’s never been one for trench speeches, but then again he’d always been one to trust his friends. sometimes, you have to change. putting his faith in peter had been wrong. but regulus had already saved his life. saved harry’s more than enough the amount of times he’s visited and not given them up, even knowing the glory it’d bring him. regulus was family. and james didn’t much care what happened to him but he had to know the people closest to him would always put HARRY first. “ i’m not asking right now, and i’m hoping it’ll be never but i just . . . i need to know he’ll grow up loved. no matter what happens. can you do that for me, reg? ”
