Regulus huffed, slamming yet another file down onto his desk. He had been staring at unsolved case files for the last six hours, and he hadn't managed to get anywhere. He felt as if everything he was doing was pointless. James approached the case from a distinct perspective, while Regulus was practically looking for a needle in a haystack. He rubbed his temple in frustration.

"No leads?" A nasal voice interrupted his thoughts.

"None," he replied, although that took quite a bit of energy. Regulus planned on ignoring the man. He had learned quite a bit about Mr. Pettigrew. It seemed he always stuck his nose in places where it didn't belong - a sign of insecurity.

"May I ask why you're looking at unsolved case files?"

"You can ask, but I won't answer," Regulus said, again burying his focus on the little bits of information the cops had managed to gather regarding the many missing persons. He didn't exactly have the time to chat.

"Come on, Black, you can't keep everything to yourself. And besides, aren't two heads better than one?" Pettigrew persisted, his tone almost pleading.

Regulus looked at him with suspicion. Everything he had uncovered about this man thus far was completely against what he was doing now. Peter Pettigrew was a selfish individual; there was no way he would offer to help unless he was getting something out of it.

"No thanks; this is official business, you know, FBI things," Regulus said, retrieving his badge from his inside jacket pocket to gloat it to Pettigrew.

"But these are local cases, and I worked on them. Almost every one of them."

"Is that why they're all unsolved, then?"

Peter clenched his fists, which hung by his sides. The veins in his forehead seemed to nearly protrude, and were bulging. His eyes narrowed into slits, and he seemed to be slightly shaking. Regulus studied his movements anxiously. Detective Pettigrew seemed to be seeing red like a bull, ready to charge at a flag.

"You okay there, Pete?"

Peter seemed to be holding back a snarl, "Of course."

Regulus wiggled his fingers in a playful wave as Peter continued to stand. "Off with you, now," he jested.

Peter ignored his antics but got the message. Regulus wasn't even sure when Peter had actually left; that's how little attention he paid to the man.

His focus was redirected to the files, which were sprawled out on his desk. He knew there had to be something; he knew there was an answer to the puzzle somewhere. After all, Lily had confirmed his suspicions.

With the initial investigation, Regulus was starting to believe it was an inside job. The victim, Marlene, didn't fight back. There was some sense of trust between her and her killer, and that's what made Regulus feel uneasy. He just had to find the connection. He just needed one clue.

Marlene was a cop, not just any cop, but one trained in undercover work. She didn't just throw her trust around, and with the amount of faith Lily had in her, Regulus was starting to believe someone in the precinct had killed her. Although he didn't want to suspect Lily, everyone was a suspect at this point.

Regulus looked at the crime scene pictures again, but his photographic memory allowed him to recall the scene even without the physical image. He began to focus on the things he didn't notice on his initial trip, and as he did, something caught his eye.

The table had been shattered into many pieces, but there was one particular piece that seemed to speak to Regulus. He picked up the picture, and turned it on his desk slightly, allowing himself to see it from another angle.

There was a ring on the table, a sweat ring. It was swollen into the wood; there had been a beverage on the table, so someone had been in the living room. Regulus began to search the rest of the pictures, looking specifically in the table wreckage for another ring.

"It's here," he breathed softly, speaking to no one but himself.

He ran his hand over the picture as if he were reliving the scene again. This piece of the table had been by the door, but the ring was in the wood; it was as clear as a crystal.

Two rings, and both fresh; there had been two people in the house.

Had Marlene invited her killer over? Had her killer come to visit? Was it one of her friends? Regulus' mind was full of racing thoughts; he couldn't figure out the answer, and that was unusual for him.

He flipped the pictures over, and shuffled the order again, hiding the two pictures with a ring back into the file named 'Marlene McKinnon.'

He practically jumped out of his chair with excitement. He was going to tell Lily what he discovered, and he was going to watch how she reacted.

He crossed the precinct in large strides, which was ironic considering he was quite short. His elegant black curls bounced as he glided across the room. As he approached Lily's office, he walked past the interrogation room, and he had to do a double take based on what he saw.

Although it was only a passing glance, he recognized the figure as James. Regulus backpedaled slowly, dreading what he might see.

James stood over the ivory table of the interrogation room, his palms flat against the metal. His back was slightly arched as he peered over the table. Regulus recognized this tactic; it was used as a method of intimidation. James watched the girl across from him with intensity, desperately looking for anything to show she was guilty.

Regulus felt bad for the girl. She had pushed the photos away from her, and closed her eyes. Her dark complexion seemed to glow in the light of the interrogation room, and even though Regulus didn't believe in gut feelings, he knew that girl wasn't their killer.

Regulus tried to gain James' attention from outside in the hall. He waved a few times, but he might as well have been talking to a brick wall. The walls of interrogation rooms were thick, specifically designed to block sound out, and keep secrets within.

Regulus wasn't keeping track of time, but he decided talking to James was more important than talking to Lily. After all, James was the only person Regulus knew that for sure wasn't a suspect, other than his brother, of course.

Eventually, James exited the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Bad interrogation?" Regulus asked, only managing to read James' body language.

"Horrible," he said, shaking his head. "Everything points to her, but she seemed genuinely shocked, and disgusted."

Regulus fidgeted with his fingers, and kept his eyes focused on the floor. "Have you considered any other possibilities?" Regulus questioned.

James turned toward Regulus, shocked. Regulus had never doubted him before, and he had never been wrong about anything. What did Regulus know that James didn't?

"No. Should I?" James asked, watching Regulus intently.

"There's always the chance it could be those you least suspect."

"What do you mean by that, Regulus?"

"Exactly what I said. Anyone can be a killer, James. People have different morals."

James pushed one of his hands through his curls; they always seemed to be untamable. He fixed his glasses, sliding the silver circular lenses farther up his nose like a nerd in a high school rom-com. James was frustrated, but he was always the composed one. While these small actions would go unnoticed in a normal setting, Regulus always seemed to notice, even when he wasn't trying.

James opened his mouth to speak but paused before actually saying something. "How goes your search? What have you figured out?"

Regulus wasn't sure how much he was supposed to share with James. When Lily had asked him to look into other possibilities surrounding Marlene's death, she had specifically asked him not to share this fact with James. James, of course, knew that Regulus was working from a different angle, but he had no clue Lily had asked it of him.

"I've found a clue, and I have a theory."

"Are those two things connected?" James asked, gently pulling Regulus out of the main hall of the precinct.

James led them to a back hallway. It was completely bare, and empty. A single light overhead attempted to illuminate the room, but it only provided a soft glow.

"Yes and no," Regulus responded, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We're free to talk here – to talk normally, I mean. There are no cameras, and no one can see us."

Something about this sentence seemed to worry Regulus. He felt as if he and James were two schoolboys sneaking around past curfew, and Regulus was always a rule-follower. Everything he did was to please his mother, but even now it seemed he'd never be good enough for her.

Growing up, Regulus lived very different lives. Their father, Orion Black, was a very wealthy businessman. He had always prided himself on this, even more so on the fact that he had bred two strong sons to carry on his legacy.

As a kid, Regulus was invisible; everything his mother and father did were for Sirius. Sirius this; Sirius that. He was waiting on hand and foot. It was like Sirius was the star the world seemed to orbit around.

Or, well, he was until he went to boarding school. Once Sirius returned from a year of schooling in America, he was never the same. Regulus saw a change for the better, but their parents were enraged. Their perfect son had come back to England with a passion unlike anything they'd ever seen. Sirius never seemed to stop talking about the freedom that America offered. In fact, Regulus was jealous.

The day that Sirius finished schooling, he fled to the States. No warning, no nothing; Regulus was furious when he first heard of the ordeal, but in the next two years of his life, he began to understand entirely. In fact, he didn't blame him at all after he realized what Sirius had been through. It was like Regulus was no longer himself.

Under his father's orders, he no longer had any freedom; the word became useless to him. Regulus only knew of two things: schooling, and his father's company.

At first, it was manageable. Regulus was learning what he was allowed to say, and when to keep his mouth shut. He learned the way of business – how to cheat your way into any situation, and to never lose.

The only problem was that he wasn't good at it. Regulus Black didn't have it in him to be a crook, and his father hated this about him. To say Regulus Black was abused would be an understatement, yet he never spoke about this, not to James, and certainly not to Sirius. The only one who knew of the many scars that covered his skin was him – a secret that he not only bore but also wore.

"Regulus?" James questioned; his words seemed to guide Regulus from the depths of his mind like a coast guard rescuing a sailor lost at sea.

"Yes? Sorry," he said, the apology rolling off his tongue instinctively. "The woman you were interrogating isn't the killer, and I didn't want to say that out there, but I'm certain."

"Certainly sure, or just certain?"

"I'm certainly sure," Regulus responded, giving James the satisfaction of repeating his words.

"How do you know?"

"In a picture, I noticed something – something I'm shocked I missed the first time. There were sweat rings on the table, and sweat rings, meaning plural."

"So," James started before arriving at the same conclusion Regulus had drawn: "she knew her killer."

"Yes, but-"

"Marlene knew my suspect; her name is Mary McDonald; they've been colleagues for years. Mary is a freelance technician, specializing in forgery. She's been working as a client of the Bureau for at least six years; she's even worked with the victim!" James interrupted.

"James."

"Yes?"

"Don't interrupt me."

James just nodded at this statement, and Regulus took it as a sign to explain things, "There was more than just a level of trust the victim had between her and her killer, but also a level of safety. She truly believed she was not in danger."

James seemed to be listening, but not following. His hand rested under his chin, gently tapping his skin with his thumb.

"James, who do you feel safe with?"

"Why?"

"Just answer the question."

"Well, I trust you and Sirius with my life, my parents, of course, and Lily."

"Good. Now, why do you trust me?" Regulus questioned, leading James to the answer of his theory.

"Because you're my partner," James stated, and it seemed like a lightbulb had gone off in his head as he finished. "Because you're my partner!" he repeated. "It was a colleague!"

"Now, it's just a theory-" Regulus began.

"No Regulus, it's the missing piece! It's the reason why I couldn't pin Mary down! I saw her as a colleague only, but they were friends."

Regulus just stood there and blinked. He knew he was the brains in the partnership, but this one was genuinely impressive to him. How had James missed his point that badly? James hugged Regulus before taking off down the hallway; he even skipped on his way.

Regulus just simply shook his head as a smile crept onto his face. He was thankful for James, even if sometimes he was the biggest idiot Regulus knew.

~~~

"Hello?" Regulus asked, gently knocking on the textured glass door that secured Lily Evans from the chaos of the precinct.

"Come in," she chimed, not even looking up from whatever she was working on.

Regulus walked into the room, and was puzzled. Instead of the typical sterile office space, he found a room that resembled an unkept children's bedroom.

There was a blue sofa, and a variety of blankets laid over the end, one even on the floor. A crumpled pillow sat on the couch; evidence showed it had recently been slept on. The taupe walls were covered in picture frames of all shapes and sizes, yet the frames all had something in common - they all contained smiles. Lily's office was surrounded by joy, a sanctuary of happiness amidst the grimness of their work.

Yet, Regulus could see through the facade. He knew how the job could get to you, and Lily's office was just like the many others he'd seen - an attempt to create a haven from the relentless pressure of their work.

"Don't profile me," she said, burying her hands in her head when she finally noticed the identity of her visitor. She closed her laptop and motioned for Regulus to sit at the desk with her. There was a black armchair directly in front of him; he sat down not long after her invitation.

"It's a habit of the trade," Regulus said, crossing his legs as he sat.

"And what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" the green-eyed girl asked, locking her focus onto Regulus.

"Your suspicion was correct. Marlene was killed by someone in this building."

Lily frowned but nodded; it seemed she had been expecting this.

"Who?" She asked quietly, her eyes never leaving Regulus, although they seemed far more watery than they had previously been.

"I can't answer that without the files she was looking into."

"You know I can't give you those," Lily said softly. "It was her undercover assignment."

"And whoever she was looking into found her before she found him!"

"God, was this my fault?" Lily asked, burying her head in her hands. Her red hair lurched forward, blanketing her pale, freckled hands. She slouched in her chair, and Regulus could have sworn he saw a single tear blossom onto the white paper below.

"I can't say that for certain, but from one agent to another, we both know that she wouldn't have taken the case unless she wanted to."

"I know," Lily replied softly, her voice tinged with regret. "But I couldn't even bring myself to call her family. I had someone else do it."

Her words hung in the air, wishing to fly far away from here. Regulus understood her pain; he had seen many agents die in his years with the Bureau, but each and every one of them knew that it was their duty to serve and protect. If they died, they would die for justice.

"Lily," Regulus prompted, trying to shift the mood of the room. "I need the files, the classified ones. I have to find out what she was following."

"How can you ask that of me after it has already killed one?"

"I've been through too much hell to throw the towel in for a cop killer," Regulus replied.

Lily thought this was a lighthearted pass at a joke, but Regulus meant each word. He wouldn't die to someone who was a coward; anyone who could kill an unarmed woman deserved to be brought to justice.

Lily looked up from her hands and saw the look on Regulus' face. He wasn't smiling or grinning; in fact, he looked rather pissed.

"Lock the door, and close the blinds."

Regulus did as she asked; he clicked the gold lock once to the right, and closed the blinds, separating him and Lily from the outside world.

"Even I don't know the extent of what she knew, but I can give you the file that started her search. She was looking into possible gang activity," Lily said, crossing her arms to her chest.

"Anything is a start; I just need something, or else James is going to ruin some poor girl's life. He thinks the victim's undercover documentation contact is good for it."

"Mary?" Lily asked, whilst her brow creased.

"Yes, do you know her as well?"

"Yes, but not for the same causes. Mary had always been a good friend of mine. She stood by my side at a point when no one else did. I don't know where I'd be today without her. James is surely wrong."

"I agree, but if you don't help me, I can't help you clear her name."

Regulus needed more than a worded answer; he needed the names, he needed photos, and he needed the file.

"I can't be responsible for James and your deaths too!"

"James won't know; I can keep a secret. It'd just be me. You barely know me," Regulus reasoned.

Lily was quiet for some time. It wasn't as simple as Regulus was making it out to be. Sure, he was confident he wouldn't fall victim, but Marlene thought the same thing. Lily forced her eyes closed. No, this wasn't about Marlene. This was about Regulus, and James. James, the man at one point she was convinced she'd marry, and Regulus, his partner.

She had only called James in because she was hoping she was wrong. She was trying to believe that it was a random homicide, not one done by someone she was in charge of. Lily really didn't have a choice; she had to give Regulus the files.

~~~

The next few days, Regulus rarely left his hotel room. It had transformed into a makeshift investigation hub, resembling a chaotic detective's office. Photos and files adorned every available surface - walls, tables, and even the floor. Regulus meticulously pinned up photographs of crime scenes, suspects, and locations connected to Marlene's case. Red strings crisscrossed between them, forming intricate webs of connections and theories known only to him.

He didn't know exactly what he was searching for, but he felt an urgent need to uncover the truth buried within the mass of evidence surrounding him. Each piece held a potential clue, one that might lead him to Marlene's killer. Regulus poured over witness statements, police reports, and background checks, desperately looking for the oversight that would lead him to the source of it all - the killer.

James had stopped by a few times, each time more concerned than the last, yet Regulus had dismissed him each and every time. He couldn't risk James discovering the extent of his investigation. If Marlene's killer was indeed still out there, lurking in the shadows, Regulus couldn't afford to draw attention to himself - or worse, put James in danger.

As the days blurred together, Regulus found himself growing more and more restless, his sleep deprivation becoming second nature. His mind raced with theories and possibilities, each one leading him down a labyrinth of dead ends and false leads. The tension in his shoulders became a constant companion, a physical reminder of the pressure he was carrying to solve this case.

One evening, as the city lights flickered outside his window, Regulus stumbled upon a crucial detail buried deep within a witness statement. It was a small discrepancy - a claim that a tattoo had been placed on a loved one after death - but it sparked a glimmer of hope. He hastily cross-referenced it with other pieces of evidence, his heart pounding as the connections began to align, like a constellation forming in the stars.

He had seen this shape before. To a normal eye, it could go unnoticed, but Regulus was anything but the normal eye. He studied the image, trying to recall where it had been before. It seemed to be a snake that had managed to knot itself into a figure eight. Although, instead of a tail, the snake has a skull with an ajar mouth.

Regulus sifted through the piles of photographs and documents, his fingers trembling with a mix of excitement and anxiety. He finally found it- a similar symbol etched into the wall behind a John Doe, one that had been dismissed as unrelated gang activity. The pattern was unmistakable. It wasn't just a symbol; it was a mark, a signature.

This symbol had been in the news once. Regulus couldn't recall what for. He remembered it being part of some anarchist group's calling card, but the name of the group seemed to be just out of reach. He reached for his laptop and opened the FBI's database for classified flies. He searched the keywords "snake," "figure eight," and "anarchist" and stared at the blinding light of the screen until the blue loading circle disappeared and a wall of words replaced it.

He began to scroll through the results, skimming over several unrelated cases, until his eyes struck something. There was a file on a group called the Death Eaters. He clicked on it and was immediately underwhelmed by the amount of information. There was little to nothing, only the basic facts. It was listed as an anarchist group dating back at least ten years. The group was known for their strong hatred of the legal system, and disdain for the poor.

The majority of the cases listed, which was only around six, were all deaths of nobodies, or "the muggles," as James called them. As horrible as it was, the majority of cases the FBI ended up with were missing persons reports regarding the homeless. Most law enforcement officers never took the time to look into the disappearances, and even less time to look into homicides if that happened to be the case. James had nicknamed the poorer class the muggles; the muggles were the ones who didn't know anything about anyone, essentially the few who didn't know the secrets of the world, and lived a dull-normal life.

Regulus could feel his pulse spike as he continued to scroll. The Death Eaters had been suspected of numerous crimes, ranging from defamation and theft to extortion and homicide. The members were elusive, and secretive; that's why nobody knew much about it. Marlene had stumbled upon something significant, something dangerous. She had been close to discovering something that could expose the Death Eaters.

This wasn't just about one murder; it was about dismantling a network of power and corruption that had been operating in the shadows for God knows how long. Regulus knew he needed to be meticulous and cautious; he knew if the Death Eaters caught wind of his investigation, they wouldn't hesitate to eliminate him just as they had Marlene.

Yet he knew that he couldn't stop now. If he let the fear overcome him, he would be betraying his promise to Lily, and if there was one thing Regulus Black valued above anything else, it was his word.

He closed the file, and then the tab on his laptop. Before closing it, he wiped the history, making sure to clear any trace of the evidence he'd just found. Nobody could know – not James, not Lily. If anyone knew, they would be in danger, and that was not a risk Regulus was willing to take.

Regulus leaned back in his chair, and it squeaked in response. Again, the facilities he was working in were not ideal, and the subpar rolly chair from the hotel was hurting his lower back. He stood from the desk, and walked away from it a few steps so he could analyze everything he had gathered at once.

He couldn't help but chuckle at how obvious the case had been the whole time. If only he had thought to look into the environment of the images, and not just the victims.

The room seemed to clean up just as easily as it had transformed into an office. Regulus began to unpin the red string, and place all the photos back inside the taupe file folder sitting on the desk. He couldn't take the chance of someone wandering into his hotel room and discovering a whole investigation.

With the room now cleared of any incriminating evidence, Regulus took a moment to stretch out his tired muscles. He cast a glance at the clock; it was almost midnight. He knew now that he wasn't going to be able to sleep, not with his mind racing and his body high on the adrenaline of such a breakthrough.

He grabbed his coat from the backside of his chair and walked out onto the balcony. He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath of the crisp air. The city was sprawled out underneath him, and the blinking lights seemed to mirror the stars that painted the night sky.

Regulus had always enjoyed the stars; they seemed to offer him a serenity that nothing else could. The stars were like the friends he never had growing up. Each night, they would appear, and each night he could stare and talk to them for hours on end, knowing they would return the next night.

As beautiful as the night sky was, a single cloud hung over the moon. It seemed to cast a dark light onto the balcony where Regulus was standing. It was a stark reminder that the Death Eaters were still out there, and they would continue on until someone stopped them.

Regulus reached into his pocket for his cell phone, and dialed a number he hadn't tried in a long time. He brought the phone to his ear, halfway expecting it to cancel, but instead it rang. And on the third ring, someone picked up the phone.

"Hello?" the husky voice asked.

"Barty? It's Reggie. I need a favor; do you still work in that club?"

"Regulus Black? I thought you died; it's been forever."

"Barty, this is serious; it's for work."

"That's what all the lads tell their wives when they come," Barty Crouch Jr. responded.

"I need some information about some old clients of yours. I need to know about the Death Eaters," Regulus said, hanging up the phone, and dropping it into the metal trash can before he left the room. Anything that could connect him to his meeting with Barty needed to disappear.

He grabbed his cloak and keys off his dresser, and took off into the night.

~~~

James couldn't sleep. He had been lying in bed for well over four hours, staring at the ceiling, his eyes darting from one disfigured sheetrock piece to another. He could hear Regulus next door, but he didn't want to interrupt him. In fact, he had tried to visit him many times this week, but each time, he'd been shooed off.

As James closed his eyes to try to sleep again, his phone buzzed, and he instinctively reached for his nightstand. He blinked his eyes rapidly, hoping to prepare for the bright light of the phone.

He saw a text from Lily; she was asking if he was up.

He began to type, but then paused; he didn't want to respond too fast.

"Yeah. Can't sleep, you?" he texted.

Before he could even set the phone down, it vibrated again.

"Same. You up for a drink?"

James exhaled shakily. Was he? He knew that he'd probably end up getting drunk and doing something stupid. The last thing he needed was a viral video of an FBI agent singing bar karaoke; he'd been there, and done that.

"I have a stash in the office." Lily texted.

James grunted as he sat up, groping for the nearest clothing items to throw on. He didn't exactly care what he looked like; there was no need to, after all.

"I'll meet you in 10," he typed as he walked out of his door, double-checking that it was locked.

He stopped in the hallway in front of Regulus' room; he couldn't help but wonder how his partner was doing. He lifted his fist to knock on the door, but before his skin hit the stark wooden frame, he pulled back.

Regulus would find him when he was ready; James knew that, so why did he worry so much? Regulus had never been this secretive for this long. James arrived at the precinct earlier than he suspected. It seemed that his muscle memory took over while his mind was elsewhere.

James parked his car in the dimly lit lot, and the solitary light from an upstairs window attempted to illuminate his path.

As he approached the entrance, he glanced up at the lone light upstairs. He hesitated before entering, his thoughts still lingering on worry for Regulus. He just couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him.

James walked inside the building, and up the stairs. He knew where Lily's office was. He knocked twice on the glass door before she invited him in.

Lily sat leaning back in her red velvet desk chair. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were tired.

"Lily," James began cautiously, stepping into the cluttered office. "Are you alright?"

Lily sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. "It's been a long week," she said as she motioned to the chair in front of her. "Have a seat, please."

James didn't need to be told twice; he settled into the chair across from her. He knew Lily could handle herself, but seeing her like this was unusual. She was usually the one with the unwavering composure.

"Would you like to talk about it?" James offered, shifting in his chair uneasily.

Lily shook her head no as she lifted a bottle from a cabinet only visible on her side of the desk. "I want a drink."

She retrieved two small glasses from the cabinet as well, placing them on the desk between her and James. She began to pour the deep amber liquid into the glasses.

She lifted up the glass and gave silent cheers as she downed it all, refilling it once she brought it down to the table. James followed suit; he knew Lily hated drinking alone.

As time passed, the air became thick with the scent of whiskey, and the low hum of activity in the city outside. James and Lily, seated across from one another, were the epitome of disheveled camaraderie.

Lily's normally sharp green eyes were glassy and unfocused, and a soft flush illuminated her cheeks. Her red hair was even more untamed than normal, strands falling haphazardly across her face as she leaned back in her chair, cradling a half-empty bottle of whiskey. She giggled at something James had just said; the sound bright and unguarded.

James, on the other hand, was slouched forward, elbows on the desk, his dark curls falling into his eyes. He had lost his glasses somewhere in the course of the evening, and his usual composed demeanor had given way to a more relaxed, carefree version of himself. He reached for the bottle in Lily's hand, but she pulled it away, shaking it in front of his eyes.

"You know," Lily said, pointing a wavering finger at James, "you're not bad for a nerdy jock."

James burst out laughing, the sound rich and unrestrained. "And you're not half bad for a redhead with a temper."

They clinked their newly refilled glasses together, and whiskey sloshed over the rims and onto the desk. Neither of them seemed to care. They were both lost in the moment - the rare freedom that came from letting go, even if it was only for a little while.

"I've missed this," Lily said, exhaling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Missed what?" James asked slowly, doing his best to not slur his words.

"You." Lily's eyes seemed to be full of emotion. "I've missed you, James, and the way things used to be."

James blinked, the warmth of the whiskey coursing through him. Was this real? There hadn't been a day go by that James didn't miss Lily, but he thought she was past that - past him.

Lily's gaze held his, unwavering and intense. She leaned in closer, and her breath was warm against his cheek. "Do you still think about us?"

James' confession rolled right off his tongue. "All the time," he admitted softly, his voice no louder than a whisper.

Without another word, Lily closed the distance between them, her lips finding his in a kiss that was both tentative and desperate. James responded immediately, his hands threading through her hair, pulling her closer as if he were afraid that letting go meant he would lose her again.

The kiss deepened, and their inhibitions slipped away with each passing second. James' hands roamed down Lily's back, pulling her against him. They knocked over the now-empty whiskey bottle, but neither of them noticed or cared.

Not a single thought ran through James' mind other than his desire for Lily. He was so drunk, and logical thought had long passed. The only thing he knew was that Lily was in his arms, and that's all he needed.