JAMES

I sat tapping my quill against the parchment, staring absently out the window at the leaves and trees that danced in the same breeze that made the curtains billow. Morning sunlight streamed through the wide-open frame, slicing over the natural wood floor and warming my feet. I wiggled my toes and watched the shadow they cast, letting my mind wander over stupid things instead of trying to rein my focus in.

I hadn't added any more than a sentence or two to Lily's letter before I'd been distracted.

I could hear the sounds of Sirius banging about in the main part of the cabin, trying to wake the rest of us up without actually waking us up - Sirius's idea of being discreet was slamming frying pans on stove tops and loudly yawning with vocal sounds that he never produced during real yawns, only the dramatized fake ones he used for attention.

Abandoning the letter yet again, telling myself I'd blame the owl delivery service for the delayed answer back, I pushed myself up from the desk chair and went to answer Sirius's call.

"Morning Prongsie! Up so early?" Sirius practically yelled when I emerged from my room and found him stomping around the living room pretending at cleaning up by fluffing cushions on the couch.

"Couldn't sleep through all the racket," I said.

"Was it that fucking rooster?" Sirius asked. Every morning since we'd been there, a rooster had crowed somewhere - only Godric knows where - and Sirius had this strange love-hate relationship with the idea of a "genuine rooster crowing" so that he complained about it every opportunity he got.

"The rooster? No," I answered, sinking into the chair, "But it was a cock."

Sirius paused, half bent over the couch cushions still, and a grin played on his lips as he looked 'round at me, eyes sparkling. I could see his mind spinning, trying to come up with a rooster pun to answer me with.

But instead, Remus came out of the bedroom, limping horribly, his wand extended into a cane, which he leaned on as he shuffled our way. I quickly got up and surrendered the chair to him - it was easier for him to get in and out of chairs on days like this. He looked at me with appreciation as he dropped onto the seat.

"Alright, Rey?" I asked gently.

Remus nodded, but there was a bit of a pinch to his face that told me he was in pretty rough shape. The moons had been getting worse and worse the older Moony got. He had a theory that he was working on studying that the moons got worse the older the wolf that hid within him was. Most wolves only live to be between 10-15 years old, Remus's research had pointed out, and, being that he was only three when he was turned, his wolf form was now older than wolves were meant to age - and he wondered if that was why the aches and pains manifested themselves so acutely so that Remus acted and felt like an elderly man. It was hard to say - most people were bit when they were older so that they attributed the pains to their own age, rather than their wolf's.

Remus had stopped studying when Sirius had asked what happened if the wolf died? "The wolf can't die without me dying," Remus had said at first, and the intention had been to imply the wolf couldn't die... but Sirius's eyes had widened and Remus's face had paled a bit when he'd said it and realized that the implication had actually gone the opposite direction and none of us had known how to react.

But it had honestly crossed my mind every time the full moon came around ever since.

It clearly crossed Sirius's mind, too, as he had taken double care to see to all of Remus's needs through the full moons since that conversation.

"I'll get you breakfast, you sit there," Sirius commanded, handing Remus his book and pulling his feet up onto a cushion so he was reclined. "And I'll massage those knots from your shoulders when I've gotten you fed."

"I'm really not hungry," Remus had answered, but Sirius was off to the kitchen already. Remus looked at me and sighed.

I smiled and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "He loves you is all."

"I know," Remus said, leaning back into the chair back and closing his eyes, "Too much for my own good sometimes," he added.

I ruffled Remus's curls. "I better go help him before he burns down the place," I said.

Sirius had a load of ingredients out on the table, some of which even went into breakfast foods. I raised an eyebrow at a box of baking soda and a jar of pickles. "What kind of breakfast are you making, Padfoot?"

Sirius said, "Whatever that all makes."

"A disgusting mess?"

Sirius shrugged.

"Move out of the way," I declared, "I'll make us all omelettes and bacon."

Sirius grinned. I knew he'd played me but I didn't mind so I didn't call him out on it - even as he sat down and watched me crack eggs into a bowl.

Regulus came into the kitchen then, his hair a mess, all pushed to one side of his head from sleeping on the pillow, his eyes a bit bleary still. He sat down at the table and laid his head down on his arm in silence.

"Hey there Little Brother," Sirius said, nudging his arm and being rewarded with a low growl from Regulus. "I love what a little ball of sunshine and joy you are at this hour."

Sirius waved his wand and a cup of black tea appeared at Regulus's elbow.

There was a pause, then Regulus smelled the tea and he looked up at it, eyes appraising the black-white-and-gold-trimmed cup, then he sat up and sipped from it, holding the cup with both hands as though the caffeine were a gift from the gods.

Remus wandered into he kitchen, then.

"Moony, you were supposed to stay sitting all comfy!" Sirius said, tearing his eyes away from his brother.

"All by myself while the rest of you are out here?" Remus asked, as Sirius launched himself up, offering Remus the chair he'd vacated. But Remus shook his head and cast his own tea cup and waved a wand at the kettle that sat on the stove top.

I was whisking the eggs in the bowl and watching Regulus.

I'd never noticed the very, very faint dusting of freckles that sprayed over his nose before, barely visible.

There was also a birth mark-mole just slightly on the underside of his left jawline, tucked into that spot where the muscles were a little soft.

For a moment, I imagined myself being down and kissing that mole. I imagined the way Regulus's head would tilt back and to one side to accommodate me and the way his mouth might for a silent "oh" of pleasure... or maybe it would be less silent and more of a sigh... maybe even a moan and --

"James?"

I shook my head out of the thoughts and flushed, looking to meet Remus's eyes. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you making eggs or meringue?"

"Oh shit." I stopped whipping the eggs and got up from the table quickly, turning away to pull my wand out and get the stove going with the pans and distract myself from the whatever I'd been thinking about.

Luckily, it seemed only Remus had noticed.

Regulus was watching Remus as he teetered against his cane, reaching for the whistling tea kettle.

Sirius was watching Regulus watch Remus, and after a moment he said, voice commanding, "Now tonight, Regulus, you're not to go out of doors from the time we leave for the full moon until morning. Do you understand?"

"Where are you lot going?" he asked, looking between the three of us.

"We are going to the woods to take care of the wolf," Sirius said, pointing at himself and Remus. "You are staying here. And James is going to stay to make sure you don't go ferreting about like a little sodcake and getting yourself eaten."

"Ferreting about? What does that even mean?"

Sirius didn't reply but watched as Remus added sugar and a bit of milk to his tea - an expert at making a proper cuppa, Remus made the process look like an art.

"How do you even take care of a wolf anyway?" Regulus asked, "I've always wondered how it is you lot don't get bitten?"

Remus flinched slightly at the question.

Sirius glowered at Regulus. "That's a secret," he said.

Regulus sighed.

Despite trusting Regulus with most things, Sirius hadn't yet decided to trust his little brother with the details of the full moon nights - or of the fact that we were animagi. We'd discussed before leaving on the lad's lark with Regulus whether we ought to reveal it to him, but Remus had cautioned against it - "I know we think he's changed but we can't be sure and we ought to be really, really sure before we go flaunting all our secrets to him."

"He had me burn his arm half off, Rey," I'd advocated for Regulus, "I think we can be sure he's changed his allegiances."

Remus had shrugged, "Better to ere on the side of caution."

Remus was tapping his spoon against his cup, then Sirius grabbed onto his arm, "Come, Moony, I'll work the knots out while we wait for Potter to serve our breaky." He steered Remus out to the living room, leaving me and Regulus alone in the kitchen.

I felt my face burn and I turned to the stove, focusing on the making of omelettes.

I could feel him staring, watching me cook, and Remus's words echoed in my head again and again.

Why were my hands sweating?

"Where did you learn to cook?" Regulus asked.

"It's only omelettes," I said.

"Still."

"My mum taught me," I answered.

Regulus was quiet.

"It was necessity, really," I said, awkward, clutching the handle of the pan like a lifeline. "My Dad was in the hospital a lot - dragon pox, you know - and she would be off with him and so I'd be home on my own. Well, Sirius was there sometimes, but you know what I mean. I had to take care of myself."

"Didn't you have a house elf?" Regulus asked. "Mother always made our elf, Kreacher, cook."

"We didn't keep a house elf," I answered.

"Didn't keep a house elf?" Regulus asked, "Why not? Aren't you of the Sacred Twenty-Eight? You ought to have --"

"My dad didn't believe in keeping them."

"Didn't believe in -- why?"

"Because they're slaves, aren't they?" I turned around and looked at him, my voice a bit harsher than I'd intended it to be. "Pureblood families treat them as slaves. They are a supposedly lesser being so it doesn't matter how they're treated or if they're compensated fairly, does it? Only matters that the wizards are happy and don't have to do their chores. Well it's sick and they ought to be ashamed of themselves."

Regulus's eyes were wide as he stared up at me and I turned back, unable to look at him without my heart racing. I moved so fast I caught my toe on the leg of the table, swore and stumbled forward, directly into the stove, my hand crashing down on the burner, pushing aside the pan of eggs. I wrenched backwards, pulling my hand away from the stove top and falling back into one of the chairs at the table. I held my hand to my chest, bent forward, eyes squeezed closed, the burn making my hand shake. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck," I wheezed, willing it to stop hurting, to stop burning, to stop --

"Let me see."

Regulus was kneeling in front of me, reaching for my wrist, pulling my hand back, away from my body where I'd curled in on myself. His eyes were wide with worry.

"No," I said childishly, pulling my wrist away from his grasp, wanting to coddle it closer, somehow thinking that would stop the pain.

He grabbed firmer and pulled my wrist again, holding it down where he could see the burn. My skin was bright red around the area, seared even darker where it had actually touched the burner, and already bubbling up with a blister. "Shit James," Regulus whispered, seeing the mark it had made.

"Don't touch it, it hurts," I snapped.

"I know it hurts," he said, "Let me see it, I'll fix it."

"No like it really fuckin' hurts man!"

"James," he said firmly, and I looked up into his eyes. "I know." The weight of his voice was heavy and his eyes moved down to his hand holding onto my wrist. It was his left, and although I couldn't see the puckered scar on the bottom side, I knew better than anyone else  that it was there.

I'd made it after all, hadn't I?

I swallowed back my pain, suddenly feeling rather like a loser for having snapped at him. If anyone understood a burning pain, it was Regulus.

My hand shook but I did not speak to complain, even as Regulus looped his fingers under mine and pried my palm flat so he could look at the damage.

"At least it isn't a magical wound and I can heal it myself," he murmured, voice gentle now. "No scarring."

"I don't mind scars," I reminded him.

He looked up at my eyes again. "Nor do I," he said.

I felt so sensitive to his touch that I imagined that I could feel the arches and curves of his finger prints against my skin and my heart skipped a beat. I watched as he looked down to draw his wand to perform the healing spell, and the bushel of curls on his head fell over his forehead, thick and lush, black with a whole myriad of colorful highlights muted beneath the dark tones. There was an almost violet tone to the strands in the light.

I bit my lip.

His lips moved, but he didn't speak, and the tip of his wand lit, pressing to my palm. There was a warmth that went through the skin of my hand and up my arm a way. Not a burn, but more like a flush - a comforting feeling, like a warm jumper fresh out of the wash or the way the bed sheets at Hogwarts felt when the elves had warmed them during winter, just before bed. When the warmth faded off, so did the pain. In it's wake, Regulus ran a thumb over the blistering spot on my hand and with one - two - three passes... the blister was gone and the skin had muted back to it's normal color, the skin smooth and cool.

I'd seen Madam Pomfrey perform this sort of magic before, seen healers at St. Mungo's do it, but never anyone else. Never Regulus.

"That's very impressive," I said and my voice came out lower than I meant it to. "Unspoken magic of any sort is really hard, actually."

Regulus, still kneeling before me, holding my palm in his hands, flushed a little across his nose and cheek bones and he looked up at me, "I practiced."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "You sort of have to if you're going to, you know, defy orders around - around other Death Eaters... You can't let anyone hear what you're casting if you're defending the muggles and mud--" he stopped, his nose flared and he looked away, a guilty expression on his face. "The halfbloods," he amended.

I let the slip go.

"You've done that?" I asked.

Regulus nodded. "It's all I could do to help. It's not a lot, I know, it's - no where near enough - but - but it's hard to do much else when you're..." he paused. "When you're a coward."

"You're not a coward."

Regulus drew a deep breath and didn't answer.

"Can he really read minds?" I asked.

Regulus nodded.

"So how --?"

"You have to practice at that, too, to build your mind up to guard your thoughts. And he doesn't like that, either. He can tell if you've got just a wall up to block him out, he knows... he can see that... and he demands it be dropped. So you have to almost - to layer your thinking. You have to have false thoughts and real thoughts buried deep under those, behind your wall, so he sees your false thoughts and doesn't delve deeper to find the wall. Like a hedge around a hidden stone wall with a secret garden behind it."

"And you can do that?"

He nodded.

"So you could stand before him and think what a wanker he was and he wouldn't even know it?" I asked, smirking.

Regulus laughed, "Yeah, but I wouldn't ever be brave enough to say it out loud to his face." He looked at me with admiration. "I know you did."

I laughed, "I was stupid kid."

"Grown men don't have the audacity to defy him to his face like you did as a stupid kid," Regulus said, "And I don't think you were stupid at all. You knew what you believed in and you stood your ground for it. I think that's brave and it doesn't matter if you were a kid when you did it - you did it just the same, and bloody hell, that's so --"

He cut himself off very quickly and his eyes widened as he sucked his lips in over his teeth, bottling up whatever it was he'd been about to say.

"What?" I asked. "It's so -- what?"

He looked up at me again and I could see it. I could see the word he'd meant to say in his eyes just in the way he stared at me, but he stayed quiet.

"Regulus?" I lowered my voice without really thinking about it, so it rumbled from me, husky and deep in my chest.

I wanted him to say it.

One beat.

Two.

"Hot," he whispered the word. "It's so hot."

My heart.

Oh my gods, my heart.