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„ In folklore, crossroads may represent a location "between the worlds" and, as such, a site where supernatural spirits can be contacted and paranormal events can take place. Symbolically, it can mean a locality where two realms touch and therefore represents liminality, a place literally "neither here nor there", "betwixt and between". “

James stood in the third corner of the crossroads a mile north of his hometown. Any rational person might interject that the corners and streets of a crossroad weren’t numbered, but James liked to number them. He numbered them according to the sun’s journey. The Northeast corner was one, the southeast corner was two, the southwest corner, where he was standing, was three, and the northwest corner was number four. James liked the number three. It had always seemed to him such a funny and fascinating number. Three. Like an inverted E. It was his lucky number – the number of his house, the month of his birth, the number of names he bore, James Fleamont Potter, and the number on the back of his Quidditch uniform.

Three felt like the right corner of the crossroads for what he was trying to do.

It wouldn’t be four. No. Four was bad luck. Four was his age when his grandparents had died. Four was the last digit of the year his father had killed himself. Four was in the name of the company which had ruined his family’s business, stripping them of money, status and his childhood home – the house with Number 3 written on the mailbox. Four was what the doctors at St. Mungos gave his mother to live in months.

It had been late evening when James arrived at the crossroads. The setting sun turned him into a sundial while he was counting the corners. It was dark now. No one would observe his sins out here, in the countryside by night. A singular streetlamp stood in the first corner, shedding a dim light on his plans.

James approached the centre of the crossroads. He swallowed heavily and with held breath, flicked his wand to dig a hole. Into this, he placed a small box, filled with earth from his father’s grave and a cat’s bone he bought with his last galleon. He piled the dirt on top of it.

He returned to his third corner and exhaled.

He closed his eyes. “Please,” he thought. “Please, please, please.”

Soft footfalls broke the silence of the night.

James opened his eyes.

Across from him, a figure had appeared by the streetlight. It was yet hidden in shadow, but stepped forward, toward him.

The yellow light flickered with every step and finally, just before the visitor’s face should have been revealed, died. James blinked against the sudden darkness.

“Are… are you who I called?” James asked, not daring to raise his voice above a whisper.

“Yes.”

The clouds broke apart above them, revealing a full moon. It hit the crossroads like a spotlight and revealed whom he had called: A demon.

But the creature before him possessed neither tail nor horns, no red skin or talons. Instead, he was the most striking man James had ever seen.

He was tall and well-built around the shoulders. His arms were hidden by a white dress shirt he wore underneath an elegant waistcoat. As he turned in the moonshine, the pattern of the fabric revealed a set of witches around a steaming cauldron, two women in elegant ballgowns lying in each others’ arms, kissing, tombstones and skulls, bodies hanging on the gallows, beheaded men and hands bound together. The scenes were broken up and tied together by a long piece of scroll, held by a devil embroidered above the man’s heart.

He had long fingers, each ending in a perfectly manicured nail and adorned with rings of gleaming silver and platinum, topped by rubies and sapphires. On his right hand, he wore a heavy ring shaped like a skull. The only finger, which was bare, was on his left hand, there, where other men might have worn a wedding ring. Instead, there was only a red mark of an unrecognisable shape.

The dress shirt was buttoned up high and tied with a dark green cravat, decorated with a black pin, shaped like a skull, too.

His neck was exquisitely long and pale, cut off by a sharp jawline. One might cut their lips if tempted to kiss it, James thought. The cheekbones protruded at a high point, drawing a long line past hollow cheeks to a strong chin. The angles themselves could not have formed a more beautiful face. One of the great, old artists must have, in a passion-filled frenzy, freed this miracle from a block of marble. He had a face that demanded attention, and lips which demanded worship. In his pale face, painted white in the moonlight, his lips had the most perfect rosy colouring. They had an even curve on the bottom and came to two high peaks on the top. They looked untouched and yet, screamed to be kissed. They were made for kissing, James was sure. They were made to be worshipped with other lips, to be tasted like a French pastry and watched like a masterpiece.

The nose was perfectly straight, without a bump or hook to distract from the heavenly features, and with no sign of it ever being broken or bruised.

His face was framed by curls blacker than the night around them, void of shadow, as they were darker than any shadow could be. A wayward curl fell into his forehead and James wondered what the price would be to touch it and brush it back.

Then, beneath a set of arched, black brows, sat two piercing eyes. Each was framed by a set of long, black lashes. The irises were grey in colour, nay, silver. As silver as coins or the moonlight. The angles must have mined the stars just to set them into this man’s eyes. It felt like a sacrilege to look into his eyes directly. It wasn’t a sight made for mortal men. How blasphemous it was to look at him at all! He was created to be revered, surely.

James stepped forward, out of his third corner and into the moonlight, closer to him.

The creature’s eyes fell on his face now. His eyes gleamed and widened for a split-second, as if in recognition. Then his face settled again.

“You want to make a deal?” He said. His voice was silky-smooth, lulling the rational part of the brain to sleep and calling forth all lust and passion usually held at bay by it.

James reminded himself to answer. He came here for a reason.

“I- Yes. Yes, I want to make a deal.”

The demon raised one of those sharp-angled eyebrows. “Well? What do you wish for?”

“I… I need to be the best Quidditch player in history.”

He cocked his head to the side.

“My mum’s sick,” James added. He didn’t want the man to get the wrong impression. “My dad’s dead, our family is ruined, and our fortune is gone. I need to be successful. If I’m the best Quidditch player in the world, I will have money again. My mum, she’s only so sick because she’s worried, you know? She’s scared for my future and sad because of my dad. She might quit worrying and heal when I’m successful.”

“You do not need to justify yourself to me, James. I am a demon.”

“You know my name?”

“You think I come ill-prepared to close a deal? In conclusion, what you wish for is to be the best Quidditch player in the world, so you will gain success and fame and save your family. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“And what will you offer in return?”

James gulped. The starlight in the man’s eyes blinded him. It shed too much light on what he was about to do.

“My… my soul. That is the usual price, isn’t it?”

The man stepped closer until they were merely a breath apart. James thought that, if he leaned forward and demons breathed at all, he might feel the man’s breath on his skin. “Yes. The question is: When am I allowed to collect? You will have years of all that bliss and fortune you want, but the day will arrive when I come to you and take what has been promised.”

“How many years?” James whispered.

“Ten.”

“Ten years? I won’t have seen thirty!”

The demon shrugged. “For some, ten years beyond nineteen would have been bliss, James, even without the promise of all their dreams fulfilled.”

“Twenty,” he said.

The demon looked surprised. “Are you bargaining with me?”

“Yes. Please. Twenty years and my soul is yours for the taking.”

“Time is slow in Hell. We dislike waiting, as twenty years for you is a hundred years for us.”

“Fifteen? Please. Let me at least see thirty.”

He moved his head from side to side as if weighing his options. James got lost in the perfect skin before him. His lips rivalled the beauty of a freshly budded rose, still moist with morning dew.

“I will give you 14 years. You will die at thirty-three. Three is your favoured number, is it not?”

“How do you know?”

He blinked, as if he didn’t expect the question and, more than that, didn’t have an answer. “Fourteen is my last offer. All the talent and success of an international Quidditch career for fourteen years but then I come to collect what is owed. Your soul will be taken to hell, and you will die.”

James’s mind filled with doubt. He was reasonably talented from birth, and he could – should – try to reach his goals on his own. Shouldn’t he?

But he thought of his mother then. She was so filled with worry that she was dying. He could barely get the money together to pay for rent and was so close to selling his quidditch gear for food.

“I accept,” he said quickly.

James looked at himself. He thought he’d feel different.

“The deal is sealed with a kiss,” the demon said.

James’s eyes shot up at him, then from his starlit eyes to his rose-petal lips. He counted all the sharp edges and lines he could cut his lips on and marvelled at the stretches of skin which he imagined would be soft against his mouth.

The demon grasped his head, pressing the cool metal of his rings into James’s cheeks, and kissed him.

He tasted like ash and burned flesh. Yet, sweet, like burned marshmallow. In what must have only been ten seconds or less, James tasted every delightful thing in the world – from vanilla to cinnamon to chocolate-dipped strawberries and cherry pies. The demon tasted like decadence personified. The most expensive wines and finest cut of meat could not have brought him a similar delight. It demanded his soul, seized his brain, and emptied his body until only lust and worship remained. James would have sold his soul a hundred times over for this sensation and would have given his life a dozen years sooner, had this been given in return.

The kiss seared his lips and left them cold.

When James opened his eyes again, he was alone.

***

Year 2

James had everything.

His mother was in good health, his family name restored among the wizarding community, and he, James Fleamont Potter, with the three names, and the number three on the back of his Quidditch uniform, was the most sought-after chaser in the entire wizarding world.

People threw money at him, begged him for autographs, collected his used tissues and every man and woman threw themselves on him. It was all he ever dreamed of and more.

If he wanted to, he could wake up next to a different beautiful person every day.

He didn’t want to.

For the past two years, he hasn’t been able to forget about the demon at the crossroads. He dreamed about eyes made of stars and curls warped in shadow.

The memory of the kiss was almost drained, and he dreaded the day he might wake up and not taste it anymore.

His mother had asked him many times, why he wouldn’t commit to anyone. There were so many good women out there who would love to be his wife – and make good wives, too. What was he supposed to tell her? That his heart could not shake the memory of an angelic face belonging to a demon?

Euphemia didn’t know about his deal, and he prayed, she would never have to find out.

Every time he touched another body, kissed another set of lips, or even looked at a naked form, the demon flashed across his inner eye. He needed him by his side. He needed to see him again – not like one needed to marvel at a piece of art, but as one needed to breathe.

With every passing day, he was less sure about what had been reality. Every new face and body warped the angelic figure in his memory. He needed to cleanse himself of them. The memory had to remain pure, even if nothing else in James’s life was.

So, he stood again at the crossroads just a mile north of his hometown, in the third corner, and waited.

The lamp flickered, went out and when it reignited, a man stood next to it.

James rushed out of his corner to the middle of the crossroads. It was no use, as he wouldn’t be able to see the creature in his full glory until he stepped into the light.

James saw the eyes light up like starbursts before he finally stepped close enough to be seen.

He was even more beautiful than James remembered. He must have been touched by divinity a thousand times over to be blessed with this kind of beauty. Whichever artist had made him, must have ascended to godhood, for a mortal could not make such a creature.

“You are back,” the demon said, puzzled.

James opened his mouth to answer but found himself at a loss for words. How was he supposed to explain that he came only to see him again, to convince himself that this man was real, and to cleanse his picture from all other impressions? He might pronounce him insane and his soul worthless.

“I… I came to make a deal,” he said.

“Another? Are you not satisfied with what I have given you?”

“Of course I am! You made all my dreams come true. My mother is in good health, and I should be happy.”

“But you are not?”

“I… I don’t know.”

The demon regarded him for a long moment. James didn’t know how it escaped him the first time they met, but now he noticed a fine dusting of freckles on the man’s nose and cheeks. The waistcoat now reflected coin and men flying on brooms, lovers in abundance, broken gravestones and wilted hands. It was lined with flames and on his heart still sat the devil holding a contract.

“What deal do you have in mind?” He asked finally. “What more can you wish for?”

“Well, uhm… the ruin of a company. You see, my family has built their wealth with potioneering and honest invention for years until that company came and destroyed us. We lost everything because of them and my father died.”

The demon’s lips curled. “Revenge.”

Even an ugly word such as this sounded heavenly from his lips.

“No. No, that sounds evil. It’s not revenge but… justice.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, James. Remember?” He flashed his eyes blood-red. A rational person might have taken a step back out of shock, but James stared on, determined not to miss the moment he showed his silver again.

“Regardless, what do you have to offer? You have already promised your soul.”

James’s eyes fell on his lips. This morning, when he woke, he couldn’t remember their exact composition anymore and it filled him with unimaginable sorrow. He needed to kiss him again. If it was the last thing he did, he needed to kiss him.

“You can have it sooner,” he said, unthinkingly. “Ten, instead of the remaining twelve.”

“You’ll die before you see thirty.”

“I know.”

“For revenge?”

James wanted to answer but something about three freckles connecting to a triangle on his left cheek distracted him.

“Do we have a deal?”

“If you wish,” the demon said and stepped closer to grasp him again and kiss him.

James was faster. With the instincts of a starving man, he threw himself on the man, cupped his porcelain cheeks and reconnected their mouths. The soft rose-petal texture of his lips drew a shock of memories from him. The taste of fire and brimstone mingled with the first sensation of seeing him and feeling his hands against his skin. Sunshine on his face and tickling grass against his naked feet. Silky hair wrapped around his fingers. Secret kisses interrupted by giggling while hiding behind doors. The sensation crashed through his body, rose up inside him, seeking release past his lips to reach the beautiful creature before him, so he’d know him fully and intimately.

It was over too soon. Before any clear picture could penetrate James’s consciousness, the lips pressed to his were gone. James opened his eyes and caught a last glimpse of silver eyes before he, again, stood alone at the crossroads.

***

Year 3

Soon after his last visit to the crossroads, the son of the company, which had brought ruin to the Potter name, was killed. His own father had suffered from temporary insanity, taken a stone to beat his son and then pointed his wand at his bloody, begging and crying child and murdered him. He then, finding back to his own mind, hung himself.

James had felt sick when he read it in the Daily Prophet. Was this his doing? Was this what he sold his soul for?

In an unexplainable turn of events, the wizarding community turned to James, demanding his father’s invention to be put back on the market, as the opponent had to be boycotted.

His father had invented a hair-care potion. So, did the other company. James counted the dead. His father, the other son and his father also. Three. His favourite number. Because of what was essentially a conditioner.

James had cried and damned himself, locked himself in his house until his mother got sick from worry. Then, he thought back to the demon. He remembered his heavenly kiss, and, more or less to his horror, found that he might take the same deal again if it bought him another.

Another year has passed since that deal. The Potter family was one of the richest in the wizarding world. The money didn’t mean much to him. He bought the prettiest house for his mother and threw lavish parties for his friends, but the rest of it? He threw it at any good cause he could find, knowing well that it wouldn’t cleanse his soul.

James had recently reconnected with an old friend from his Hogwarts days. His name was Sirius Black. Sirius Black the Third. They were destined to be friends. After school, his mother had him shipped off to France for some extended studies. Sirius was a rebellious child but didn’t fight his mother when she sent him to another country. He thought he might be free of her there.

Now, he was back and crashed back into James’s life in the best way. It felt like his friend returned a piece of humanity to him. He was a real friend, not bought by a demon deal.

James had isolated himself after his father’s death, but Sirius reconnected him with other friends from Hogwarts and new people to know and admire.

Then, one afternoon, he confessed: “I’m in love with Remus. Always have been. Like, all years at Hogwarts. First day I saw him I was like – lovestruck. You know? Never told him though… What if he doesn’t feel the same and doesn’t want to be my friend anymore? I couldn’t live with myself.”

“You should tell him,” James said. “What if he’s your one true love and you wait too long, so he gets another boyfriend?”

“I-“

“I think you’re made for each other,” James interrupted. He had witnessed Remus spending all their Hogwarts years pining after Sirius. Back then, he didn’t want to get involved, but now? He was going to die in nine years, at least his friends should be happy.

James didn’t give him much of a choice. Once he had decided to meddle, he meddled. He set Remus and Sirius up for dates by cancelling their plans last minute and convinced their friend Peter to do the same. It took almost two months but then they finally came through James’s door and announced that they were together. They kissed and James wondered if kissing felt for them how it felt for James with mortal men and women, or how it felt when he kissed his demon.

***

Year 5

James had 7 years left. He decided to live his life lavishly. He treated himself to every whim, overwhelmed his friends with gifts and donated most of the Sleekeasy Potion profit.

Nothing could fill the hole in his soul. No mortal delight could bring about the same passion as the demon’s kiss. His heart was burning for another look at him, another taste. He wanted to sit on the ground at the crossroads and hear him talk, be lulled into insanity by his voice.

There was nothing to wish for, no deal to be made. His life was too perfect.

Then, Remus and Sirius got engaged and gave him an excuse to visit the crossroads again.

James trembled in anticipation. They approached the end of autumn, and he could see his breath turning into a small cloud in front of him.

The Demon appeared under the streetlamp.

James’s breath caught in his throat. It has been three years since he last laid eyes on him and the image had dulled in his memory.

Calling this creature, which had clearly been formed by angelic hands, a demon was blasphemous! This man should be worshipped and revered. No thing or person deserved to be called beautiful as long as he walked the earth.

James wondered what his cheeks might look like when he blushed, how the pink hue might shift his features into a softer, youthful version of him. He wondered how his skin would wrinkle when he smiled, how his laugh would sound. He wondered, if anyone ever heard passion and lust-filled noises from him, held him when he was glistening with sweat, a smile on his lips. He wondered if anyone had ever received the honour of kissing his neck, covering it in love-bruises and bites. What shade of blue and red did those marks pull?

Was he, in his demon-state, even capable of such things?

“James,” he said. “Back so soon?”

“I feel, it’s been too long,” James confessed.

The demon regarded him from head to toe, taking his sweet time as if he were tasked to critique an art piece. His lashes drew long shadows on his cheeks, hiding the triangle of freckles.

“Do you want to make another deal?”

“Yes.”

“It will cost you.”

“I know.”

“You only have seven years left.”

“I know. You can have me in five.”

“Five?” he asked, puzzled, and looked up at him. It was a new moon and the sky was bleak, but his eyes resembled two perfect, full moons tonight. “Are you unsatisfied with the life I gave you? Have I not fulfilled all your dreams and given you the most comfortable of lives?”

“You have.”

“Then why do you wish to die?”

James averted his eyes. “I don’t,” he admitted. “But a deal is a deal, and some things are more important than living.”

“You speak as someone who has never died before.”

James looked at him again. He wondered, suddenly, how demons were made. Of course, some stories told about  falling and turning into their vile twins, called demons. It might explain the divine beauty of this creature. Others told tales of humans so wicked, they go to hell and, upon losing their humanity, turn into demons.

“Were you a human once?”

Something flickered across his eyes. “Yes.”

“And how did you die?”

“I made a deal, like you.”

“So, there was something you were willing to die for.”

“I did not return to beg for my life to be cut even shorter.”

James said nothing.

The demon licked his lips. “What do you wish for this time?”

James averted his eyes again. He pulled a paper out of his pocket. It was a wedding invitation, printed on luxurious paper with the most delicate, golden lettering announcing the union of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. He gave it to the demon.

He read the names, and his eyes widened for a split-second, before returning to their usual, neutral gaze. He traced one of the names with his delicate fingers.

“My friends are getting married. I pay for their wedding to be everything they’ve ever dreamed of. They deserve the world. …But Sirius, he is from a traditional family. Hateful, spiteful people. They would disown him if they found out he loves a man. This wouldn’t be too bad. I can support him with my money. But he is afraid that his family might take this as an insult to their name. they are very important people – or at least think of themselves as important – and Sirius fears they might come after him or Remus and hurt them.”

The demon handed the invitation back to him. “And what do you want from me?”

“Protection. The Black family can’t find out about the union, and they can never get their hands on them to hurt them.”

“How noble,” he remarked. “I am not capable of the kind of divine protection you seek, James. I can buy you success and crush your opponents. I can cure diseases and cause them, too. I can make people change their minds and release prisoners at a whim. How do you expect me to shield your friends from their family? If everyone else knows about their lavish wedding, how can the family be stopped from finding out? Shall I make them blind and deaf? I can. Shall I kill each and every one, I can do so also. Is that what you want?”

It wasn’t. Too many people have died because of his previous deal.

“If you can make them change their minds, can you make them not homophobic and cure them from their blood-supremacist views?”

The demon looked at the sky in thought, rubbing one of the rings on his right hand.

“I might, yes. I’ll make you a good deal: Each person to change will cost you one year.”

“Deal,” James said quickly. “Sirius’s mother, Walburga Black. His cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. She is insane and might be the first one to hurt him, if given reason.”

“Two years. You will only have five left.”

“I know.”

“You are willing to sacrifice two more years of your life for your friend not to be disowned.”

James looked at him. His lips were parted. He had rubbed them together and bit on them in thought before, turning them perfectly pink.

“For a kiss,” he said, unthinkingly.

The demon looked at him like he wanted to insult him, like he wanted to call him stupid and reckless and an idiot.

Instead, his eyes fell on James’s lips, and James thought he saw the same need in his eyes he felt in his heart.

The demon exhaled shakily and with a sudden determination, brought his hand up to James’s cheek and kissed him.

If nothing else, this kiss made him believe in God.

Before, it was a press of lips. Skin to skin. The sensation roared through him like thunder.

Now, it was a kiss.

The demon was present for it, unequivocally, unmistakably present. It didn’t feel like a deal forged in hellfire. They were kissing because James might die soon without it. They were kissing because they had to. They were kissing because the body demanded it, and the heart cried for it.

Life and Death were meaningless concepts, hell and heaven were mere words, as they stood together at the crossroads with the man’s hands on James’s face, and James’s arms around his body. They cast a singular shadow, and any passing person might have thought them one creature.

This was how it ought to be.

***

Year 6

James hadn’t realised how quickly five years could run by. When he made his new deal with the demon, he thought, “I’ll have five more years. Half a decade.” He has always been a glass-half-full kind of guy. Half a decade.

But after one more year, there were only four years left. Four. He hated that number.

And after that, there would only be three years left. Time was running out.

Sirius and Remus’s wedding had passed, and James did everything he could to make it the most lavish and perfect day in history. Sirius’s family had a sudden change of heart and, upon learning about the union, welcomed Remus with open arms and bought a house for the newlyweds. At least Sirius’s mother and Bella had this change, and they had enough influence to either convince or silence the rest of the Black family.

Peter had a dream to open a Joke Shop of his own, like Zonko’s, where the group had spent most of their time while attending Hogwarts. James gave him the funds for that with a smile on his face.

His friends were the happiest people on earth and James was glad.

He worried his friends, though. He worried his mother, too. He had been in the press many times for his affairs and burned-up romances. As a chaser for the English Quidditch team, he was abroad quite often and ended up in the tabloids with his arms around pretty people all over the world. It never lasted because James didn’t want these affairs to last.

One evening, when James was in England, days away from travelling to France for a match, Sirius came to visit him. They had drinks and shared gossip.

“I worry about you, James,” Sirius said finally. The sudden shift in tone wasn’t surprising to James. Sirius rarely went anywhere without Remus nowadays and James had noticed that something was off with him.

“Why?”

“Aren’t you lonely. Look at this place. It’s fit for a family to live in, but you are alone.”

James shrugged. “I can’t force romance.”

“No but… are you looking? Trying? I mean, if that’s not what you want, that’s fine, but I remember you as a romantic. You’ve always wanted a family or at least love. But you just travel around, shag some people, and throw your money about.”

James said nothing.

“I know this girl. She’s lovely, I think you’d like her.”

“I’m not interested.”

“You don’t even know what she’s like.”

“I don’t need to, I…” He sighed heavily. “I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair. I don’t have space in my heart and soul for a romance.”

Sirius frowned at him. “What is that supposed to mean? Do you have a secret girlfriend?”

“No, I… it would feel wrong.” He looked off toward the window. The stars and moon shone brightly, like the demon’s eyes. “My heart and soul are already sold. I don’t think I have it in me to love someone in this life. Like… something is lost inside of me, and I cannot find it. No person could return it or fill the hole inside.”

“I’d call you mad,” Sirius said quietly, “But sometimes I feel the same.”

James looked at him. “You have Remus. You love him.”

“More than my life,” he nodded. “Still… Since my childhood, I have felt like something in my life was missing. There is a hole in my life. I don’t know why or what it is. I cannot make out its shape. But there is something that cannot be replaced and there is a type of love I cannot feel because of it. I think it is the reason why I could never love my family or stay with them. There is a disconnect between us, even now, when my mother seems to love me.”

James was sure, Sirius had never made a deal at a crossroads. Their experience couldn’t be the same, and yet, the way he talked touched the memory of the demon in his head. It couldn’t be, but their sensation of loss felt connected.

James smiled, “But you are happy with your life?”

“Yes.”

“Then believe me when I say that I am happy too.”

Sirius looked at him for a long minute, and then he nodded. “Okay. I will try. …Remus wants a child, you know? And I’m afraid, I won’t be able to love it.”

“You might.”

“I want to. I just don’t know if I can.” He looked at his glass and suddenly chuckled. “I just had a strange thought. If I have a son, I should call him Regulus.”

“Regulus?” James asked. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anyone with that name. It sounds silly, doesn’t it? It’s a star and I didn’t want to continue this naming tradition. …Still, I think it sounds right. Yes, should I have a son, I will call him Regulus and I shall love him dearly.”

James smiled warmly. He wanted his friends to be the happiest. When he dies, they will get most of his wealth. He’d like for a child to benefit from it, even if it wasn’t his own.

“You’ll be godfather, right?”

“Of course. I’d love to,” James said, and he meant it, though, his head reminded him that he would die before the child would be old enough to know him.

***

Year 7

James was in Germany for a match.

He was restless. He could barely concentrate on the sport. His mind kept wandering to the man with the silver eyes.

Sirius and Remus have recently welcomed their son, Regulus. They seemed to be the happiest people on earth and James only had three years left with them.

“I think I’m cured,” Sirius had said to him a week ago. “I feel repaired, somehow. I can love my son and family with all my heart.”

James would like that too. The only cure for his burning need was to see his demon again. He yearned for his lips and his hands, his breath and his voice.

James was almost drunk, which might be the reason why he was standing in the third corner of a crossroads in Germany. He suspected that there was more than just one crossroads demon and surely, they weren’t the same for the crossroads in his English hometown and this one near Gelsenkirchen.

It didn’t matter. He had to try. He had to see him.

He didn’t have any idea for a new deal, but his heart threatened to rip itself apart if he didn’t see him right this second.

“James.”

He would recognise this voice anywhere. He turned around and stood toe to toe with the demon. His demon.

“It’s you,” he whispered.

“It is. Did you want someone else?”

“No. No, never. You are so beautiful.”

He averted his face. “You only have three years left. I can’t give you any more deals.”

“I wanted to see you.”

“James,” he said. He still wouldn’t look at him. Didn’t he know how he tortured him by not letting him see his eyes?

James took his hands, running his thumb along the cool, silver rings. He rubbed the empty spot on his left ring finger. The red mark there looked like intertwined letters he couldn’t identify in the dark.

“Let me look at you, please,” he whispered.

Hesitantly, he turned his face until James could see the stars in his eyes again.

“James, you do know that this is not my form, do you? I’m a demon. I don’t have a body on this plane of existence. We possess the bodies of humans to speak to your kind.”

A part of James knew this, of course. He just hadn’t thought about it this way. This beautiful man was real. He existed, somehow, somewhere.

James thought of his godson, and how it had filled the hole in Sirius’s soul.

“Who is this man, then? Can I meet him? Is there any more of my soul I can sell to you so I can meet him?”

The demon looked at him with pity in his eyes. “No. He is dead.”

James reached out to touch his hair. “Why? Who could let such a creature die? That is the most tragic thing I have ever heard.”

He said nothing.

“No matter. You are here. You speak to me, and you kiss me. It’s you I wanted to see.”

He, again, said nothing.

James wanted to say his name, to make him look at him and speak to him and kiss him. His damned soul demanded it.

“Do you have a name?” He asked, when he realised, he didn’t know this.

An emotion flickered across his eyes. “I had, when I was alive.”

“What was it?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“You know mine.”

He took a step back from him. “Why did you summon me?”

“I wanted to see you,” James said again, staring at the distance between them. “I have a big match tomorrow. Most important one of my career, probably.”

“And you want me to make you win?”

“No, my Team will win on our own. Can you wish me Good Luck?”

“Wish you luck?”

“A kiss for good luck?”

The demon looked at his lips like he couldn’t help himself. His eyes brightened for a moment as if the memory of their last kiss flashed in front of them.

“Kiss you without a deal made, you mean?”

“Kiss me because you can and want, I mean. Do you want? Didn’t you like our kisses before?”

The demon reached out with tentative fingers. The touch was barely there. He traced his lower lip. “I’m not certain I’m allowed to.”

“Like them or want them?”

His eyes flicked up to him again. “Both.”

“But do you?”

“Yes,” he said. He didn’t whisper it like a confession. He said it, with his eyes on him, like a fact. Like an obvious and unchangeable reality of life. A fact that changes nothing, apparently. He said it like someone would say ‘The sky is blue’ and it didn’t change the fact that clouds would hide it, and night would come.

James grasped his hand and kissed his fingers. He kissed the ring finger, the only one without a ring, and let his lips linger against the knuckle.

A whisper of a gasp slipped through his lips.

He pulled his hand back, stepped forward and let their lips collide.

James had wondered whether it was the act of sealing the deal which had made such an impression on him. Was it the man in front of him or the act of selling his soul which made the meeting of lips have the same gravity as Titans hurling boulders at one another?

It was the man.

James pressed his fingers into his waist and pulled him close, and it was the man.

His lips were burning hot, and James was melting under them. His heart was jumping out of his chest and his lungs disregarded their function, standing still in awe with the rest of his body.

It was the man.

James parted his lips. The demon’s hands cradled his head. He sighed softly against his lips.

It was the man.

And James never wanted to stop kissing him.

His breath was hot, he tasted like fire and smoke, but James loved it. He was addicted to it. He wanted to feel this heat everywhere across his skin.

At the first hint of tongue, the demon made a sound James would commit to memory at the expense of all his quidditch knowledge.

The overwhelming need of his body and soul was suddenly met by something else. A peculiar familiarity spread from his lips to his heart. Maybe this man was destined to be his. They were, by divine intervention, meant to meet. He knew this like he knew the colour of the walls in his childhood home. He knew it like his mother’s cooking and his father’s voice. He knew it like he knew the smells, tastes and sounds of life.

James would have suffocated himself on him if the demon didn’t pull back eventually. He looked like disconnecting their lips dealt him a great deal of pain. James wanted to soothe it by kissing him again.

“Don’t,” He whispered.

James stopped, looking at him.

“We can’t do this, James. It’s against the rules.”

“Which rules?”

“All of them. Demon contracts. Nature. The order of heaven, hell, and your world.”

“I was never good at following rules. Hell, I made a pact with you to become successful in my career, why start abiding by rules now?”

The demon averted his eyes, but James could see the anger on his face. It was only there for a moment and not a hint of it remained in his voice when he said, “You speak like someone who never suffered the consequences of his rule-breaking. You broke a rule when you made your deal with me, yes. The price is your soul and the length of your life. When I come to collect, maybe you’ll start to understand.”

James put his hand against his cheek, tilting his head so he’d look at him. “You will collect, and I will die in three years, and I have nothing in my life that makes me beg for more time. Sure, I’d like to survive my mother. I’d like to be with my friends and get to know my godson properly. But other than that, I have nothing. I have money. I have success. But the only thing I really want is to be with you.”

“You can’t.”

“And if I build a house at a crossroads? If I summon you every night from my backyard? Who will stop us?”

The demon stepped fully away from him, winding himself out of James’s grasp. "They will. They will stop us. They will assign a different demon to you. All my work will have been for nothing, and I will lose everything all over again.”

James stared at him confused. He muttered and rambled, slipping into a language James didn’t recognise. Then he stilled and looked at him.

“I will collect in three years,” the demon said. “Until then you cannot summon me again. James, promise.”

“I might die prematurely if I can’t see you,” James whispered.

“You can’t. It’s in the contract. You will see me again. But only when it is permitted. I cannot risk this.”

“But-“

“If you like me- If... If I mean something to you, if you belive we are connected beyond our deals, you will promise not to summon me and not see me until your soul is due.”

James swallowed heavily. He took a moment to take him in in all his glory. His hair morphed into the shadow, but his eyes cut through the darkness of the night. His waistcoat reflected, grey on black, scenes of prisoners and hung men with crying widows at their feet.

He recalled the heat of his lips, the sweet sounds and his gentle hands. Each kiss felt like an explosion triggered by worlds colliding in a galaxy engulfed in fire.

Three years without him sounded like a bigger hell than wherever he’d have to go once his time had run out.

“I promise.” He said finally because it at least told the demon how much he meant to him.

The demon nodded, tight-lipped.

He turned to leave, melting into the shadow. Then he stopped and turned again. “Good luck tomorrow.”

***

The final Day

James sat on the ground next to his godson’s toddler bed. Sirius was crafty and turned the child’s room into a universe of its own. The bed had a giant canopy of sheer, dark drapery with stars and moons woven into it. The ceiling was covered in glow-in-the-dark stars and the dads had painted constellations on all the walls. The baby’s handprints were to be found at the bottom of a few of the walls.

In James’s childhood home, his mum used to measure him in the doorway to his room, marking his height and engraving it into the wood with her wand. Sirius and Remus did this but with handprints and paint.

They would give this baby the best of childhoods. James knew this. He would bet all of his remaining hours on it.

“I wish I could see you grow up, little Reggie,” James said. Sirius could never explain why he needed to name his son Regulus; he just knew that he had to. They called him Reggie for short. “But tomorrow you will become the richest baby in the whole world. You’re already very rich, you have no idea. Your papa’s loaded. But you’re my heir, too. Some of it will go to my mum, and then a lot of it will go to good causes but the rest is for you. …I guess it doesn’t matter to you either way. Not yet. Probably not ever. As long as you have it, money’s pretty useless. Anyway, …I love you. You will do great in life. You’ll be happy with your dads. You’ll go to Hogwarts and find the best of friends there. You’ll become a strong, strong wizard. I hope nothing bad will ever happen to you. You don’t deserve bad things, Reggie. …I wish I could be there to watch. …Sweet dreams.”

He ran his hand through the toddler’s hair. He had to take a deep breath before he could leave the room and face his friends.

Sirius and Remus were in the kitchen, cleaning up the remains of their evening. It has been a fun night, full of laughter and reminiscence. Peter left an hour ago. Sirius tried to make plans about taking Reggie to the zoo or attending James’s next match. James hasn’t told them that he won’t be around anymore.

Sirius chuckled about something Remus had said and kissed him.

James stood in the doorway and watched them. He has thought long about his regrets. Part of him regretted never having found such love. But the other part knew his heart and soul already belonged to someone. He couldn’t have what they had. Not in this life.

It took them several minutes to get distracted enough from one another to notice James.

“Hey. He asleep?”

“Yeah. Sleeps like an angel. …I should head home.”

“Okay. But owl me this week about the zoo thing, yeah?”

James glanced at the clock in the living room. “I will,” he lied.

Sirius and Remus walked him to the floo. Usually, there was a quick hug and a ‘bye’ or a ‘cheers.’ Today, this wouldn’t suffice. He didn’t want to worry his friends, but he couldn’t go without a proper fare well.

He pulled Remus into a hug first. “I just wanted to say, you’ve always been one of the best men I know, Remus. You deserve all the success and love life has to offer. You’ll be the best professor Hogwarts has ever seen and little Reggie will go to an even better Hogwarts than we have.”

Remus looked at him confused when James pulled back and turned to Sirius.

“I love you, mate,” he said, hugging him too. “You’re like a brother to me. You’re the best dad anyone could hope for, and Reggie will grow up to be the happiest kid with the two of you. I’m so glad you’re doing better with your family, and I hope it will never end. You deserve this life.”

“James, are you okay?” Sirius mumbled, rubbing his back. “You’re scaring me, mate.”

“Would you like to stay here?” Remus asked.

“No. No, I should go home.” He stepped back from them. “Give my love to Pete, and to Reggie. And… maybe we and Reggie can visit my mum next weekend? Or she goes to the zoo with you three? I think she’d like that.”

The men shared an insecure look.

“Sure, yeah,” Sirius promised. “Will you… be there?”

“I’ll try. Need to review my schedule.” His throat was closing up. He had to leave this place before he’d start crying.

“James,” Sirius started.

“I should go,” James said quickly. “Good night.”

He stepped into the fireplace and went home.

When he arrived in his dark living room, he took a couple of deep breaths. He ignited the tip of his wand and checked the nearest clock. He had a few minutes to midnight. He assumed the demon would come at midnight. It sounded appropriate.

He went to the bathroom, set his glasses aside and splashed some water into his face.

He wasn’t afraid to die. He wasn’t even afraid of hell. He was excited to see his demon again for the first time in two years. But slowly, minute by minute, the reality of the situation set in.

He would die. He would not see his godson grow up. He would not see his friends again. He’d leave his mother alone.

There was no way around it.

And all of it for what? He could have had fourteen years, but he kept going back for demonic indulgence, selling his life away. The rational part of himself knew he should regret it. But the thought of the beautiful man with the soft lips forbade it.

He put his glasses back on and messed with his hair until it fell the way he wanted it to.

He went to the bedroom, passing the bed without looking and turned to his wardrobe.

“Hello James.”

The voice shifted the room out of focus. James’s entire attention was pulled back to the bed.

There sat the man. James only saw his eyes in the dark, but he knew it was him.

The lights flickered on, then dimmed, until his bedroom looked like a night by moonshine.

The demon didn’t wear his typical waistcoat with the ever-changing pattern. He was wearing black satin pyjamas which looked more modern than his usual clothes.

“You.”

“Did you miss me?” He said it like a joke, like it was an inconceivable idea.

“Yes.” He sat next to him on the blankets. “So, how does it work? How do you collect? I heard things like violently being dragged down to hell. Please don’t make it look gruesome. I don’t want to scare my mother and friends.”

“It will look like you had a heart attack or an aneurysm. You might like how I collect: It’s with a kiss.”

At least that. At least, his ending would feel good. “It won’t hurt?”

“I wouldn’t hurt you, James.”

James smiled. He reached out and brushed a wayward curl out of the demon’s face.

If James wasn’t mistaken, the look in his silver eyes was grief. “You should have taken the 14 years, James,” he whispered. “Or maybe you should have never made a deal to begin with.”

“My friends and mother are happier for it. …Do you… remember your past life?”

His eyes drifted over James’s body. “Bits and pieces of it, yes.”

“And do you regret making your deal?”

“No.” He didn’t even have to think about his answer.

“What was your deal? You never told me.”

“I can’t tell you. I’m not permitted.”

“Are you finally allowed to tell me your name?”

“No.”

“Are you allowed to tell me anything about yourself when you were alive?”

The demon looked at him thoughtfully. “I died about two hundred years ago. Which, in hell feels like a thousand. Hell is hell. There is no way to describe it to someone who has never seen it. It is a place of hopelessness. I would have never gone there for my own gain. The person who benefited from my deal… I loved them more than my life. I would go to hell for another thousand years for the life he was given in return. …Maybe I don’t have to.”

“Maybe you don’t? Why? Is there a way to redeem yourself?”

“Not for everyone. …But I’m not allowed to talk anymore about it. It is time now, James. Lie down.”

James set aside his glasses and lay down. The demon crawled on top of him. His hair fell onto his face. James reached up to his cheeks, feeling the growing warmth in them. His hands cradled his face. James closed his eyes, picturing the man in front of his inner eye. What a sweet way to die with him as his last sight, last smell, last taste.

The demon connected their lips. Instead of the heat of hellfire, it felt like the warmth of a Hogwarts dorm room in winter. It smelled like four boys crowding in front of a window, watching the snow.

Then it shifted and felt like lazy, lovely kisses, placed on his cheeks by a lover while lying on a carpet worth more than their lives in front of a fireplace, the cold metal of a single ring on a left ring finger against his skin.

***

James woke up on a hard, stone floor. He shuddered but then realised he wasn’t cold. The stone wasn’t cold either. It was hot. The air was heavy with heat and smoke. When James envisioned hell as a child, he pictured this. He sat on a little island in a pool of lava.

He stood up. His legs were shaking and weak.

“Hello?” he asked. His voice was barely a whisper.

“Hell, like Heaven, is what we make it to be,” a voice said. “Yours is rather traditional for now. It may change the longer you are here, the more they know.”

His head was drumming and seizing, making him sick. He looked up. There, at the other end of the platform, stood an angel.

No, not quite. It was the Crossroads demon. Even through the heavy fog of his headache and the blinding fire around him, he recognised him.

James tried to fight the pain, get to the beautiful creature and ask him to explain this new life to him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. Something was pounding against his head, like Athena trying to be released from her father’s mind.

“James,” the demon called in worry.

James sank to his knees and let the pain overcome him.

A rush of memories swapped over him like a tidal wave and buried him underneath. With it, a scene began to play in his hazy mind.

***

200 years ago

Regulus Black pushed a coin purse into the guard’s hand. “Just five minutes alone with him and you’ll get another with the same amount.”

He was met with a look of disgust and an aura of greed. The greed won, evidently, and the door was opened.

James Potter, the only son of a well-respected family, almost as well-respected as the Blacks, sat at a table with iron chains around his hands. He looked up and stared in horror.

“No,” he said. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here. They-“

Regulus crossed the room and sunk to his knees before him, shushing him gently. “Be quiet, my love. Nothing will happen to me. I needed to see you.”

“Regulus,” he whispered and tried to reach out, coming up short. “If they find out we are involved, you will be killed too.”

“So? I would rather die than live without you. This isn’t fair. My mother had no right to do this to you. I am as guilty as you are.”

“You need to live,” James insisted. “At least let me die in the comfort that you will live.”

“What kind of life would it be without you? … I can’t let this happen. Sirius and I will come up with a plan. We will get you out of here.”

“You can’t. What we did was against the law and now I will pay the price.”

“How can the way you love me be against any law?”

James averted his eyes.

Regulus reached out and intertwined their hands. James rubbed the ring on his left-hand ring finger. It was a silver ring with a singular emerald set into it. He used to wear many rings at once, but now, only this one mattered. It had two letters engraved on the inside: J R.

“I love you,” James whispered. “Regulus, I love you so much I would gladly break any man-made law and god’s commands ten times over. I’d defy them all for you. But now I have to pay the price. It is the way the world works, my Darling. I’ll go happily knowing I have loved you to the fullest extend of my capabilities.”

Regulus shook his head. “I can’t be without you.”

“You must. My sweet angel, you must. Sirius will take care of you. He promised me to protect you. Now, please, kiss me. Kiss me one last time. I want to remember it when I die.”

Tears spilled out of Regulus’s grey eyes. The thought of James dying was proof that no god could exist. No god would punish them for being in love like this.

“Regulus, please, before the guard returns.”

He couldn’t deny him his dying wish even though it threatened to rip his heart in two.

He wrapped his arms around the man and kissed him. He tasted like tears and hopelessness clad in iron.

“I will get you out,” he whispered when the sound of the keys signalled the guard’s return. “I swear by everything that is holy and unholy in this world, I will get you out.”

Later, Regulus stood by a crossroads near his family’s chateau. He knew of the myth of the wish-fulfilling crossroads demon. He also knew the price and he was ready to pay.

The demon appeared to him as a man several years his senior.

“You have summoned me,” he said, looking him up and down like a wild cat sizing up her prey.

“I want to make a deal.”

“Of course you do. Well, then, tell me: What is it that you want? Money? Fame? A collection of naked men at your disposal?”

“I want James Potter to be released from prison. I want all charges against him dropped and… and I want him to be able to live a virtuous life with his name still intact.”

The demon considered this, swaying his head to and fro. “That is complicated, child. In your society, even if he is acquitted, his name is tarnished.”

“You’re a demon. Make it not so. Please, he is all my heart. He has to be happy and live a full and delightful life.”

The demon grinned. “You see, I can do that.”

“And will you?”

“Depending on the payment. You see, child, what you ask bears a problem: For as long as he knows you, he will love you. And as long as he loves you, he will break laws to be with you. What you want for him is a life full of virtue and societal expectation. Well, for that he does not need a lover like you. He requires a wife and an heir. And my demonic intervention to cleanse the collective memory of his transgression.”

Regulus swallowed heavily. His throat was bone dry. “You mean… he has to forget me and marry someone else?”

“Yes.” The demon sauntered around him. “I’ll give you ten years and then your soul will be mine. You will be dragged to hell and spend the rest of eternity burning in its fires. In return, your beloved will forget he ever loved you, and so will everybody else. He will keep his good name, marry a good little girl and make love to her instead. His life will be perfect, and everyone shall envy him for his good deeds.”

Regulus’s heart ached at the thought. How was he to survive looking at the man who was his whole life and not be recognised? How was he supposed to share the same air, walk the same earth and not be loved by him? It was a contradiction. Loving James gave him air. His existence in his life turned the earth beneath his feet to solid ground.

“Will he at least remember me in death?”

“Oh, child. You are not listening to me. You won’t share the same afterlife. He’ll be such a good person; he’ll go to heaven. While you… won’t.”

Regulus looked at the ring on his left hand. He could almost feel the engraved letters on the inside. “I can’t. It can’t be. Please, I would not survive a life like that. Is there nothing you can do to reunite us in the future?”

“What I’m offering is beyond the standard rate already. I’m a gentleman, child. I’m generosity in person. For ten years, you can still see him. You can watch your wish be fulfilled, witness his happiness. Humans are so cute when it comes to your little romances. Doesn’t your heart tell you that it would be worth it? Isn’t it romantic to die for him?”

The demon rushed in front of him again, grasping his jaw and tilting up his head. “Do we have a deal, or will you let him die just so you do not have to be without him?”

Regulus looked up into the demon’s eyes. They were blacker than the night sky.

“Then take me now,” he whispered. “I want him to have that life but don’t make me watch. I would rather burn in hell tomorrow than have his eyes on me and not be recognised. No torture your kind may subject me to, could be worse.”

The demon pursed his lips. “Well, don’t be so sure, sweetie.” He grinned and let go of him. “Although… now that you have offered it…”

“Yes?” Regulus asked as hope rushed back to him.

“If you give yourself over to me now, right this second, I may be able to carve out one or two more perks for you.”

“What kind?”

“Same old, same old. You burn in hell for eternity. He has his virtuous life and forgets your existence. In actuality, everyone will forget your existence. You will be wiped from the face of the earth. No trace of Regulus Black will remain with anyone who has ever known or loved you – your friends, your lover, your brother. In return, I might be able to switch some things around, tempt a few people into a few sins.”

“What for?”

The thing grinned. “Rebirth,” he whispered and wiggled his eyebrows. “It is the new big thing. Heaven and hell are quarrelling over souls which are not good enough for one and not bad enough for the other. Plus, we’re getting full. The new project is all about rehoming used souls into new lives over and over again. Stole that from someone else, actually. Don’t tell.”

Regulus’s head was spinning. The demon was talking faster and faster, like an excited little boy. Was there something like child-demons?

“Here is our deal: All the important people in your life will be reborn. Over and over again – at least until their souls become ineligible for rebirth. No knowledge of you. You won’t exist. If you can make one of them recognise you, remember you, love you… you might be redeemed.”

“Redeemed?”

“Possibly. It would mean your freedom from hell. Possibly a chance at rebirth. Which, in turn, means a chance to be with James in a mortal life again. Possibly in a time and place with different laws.”

His heart skipped a beat. Regulus has never been an optimist, nor has he ever been filled with hope, but this, this may be a way. He had to try it, didn’t he? He owed it to their love, to James’s life. After all, it was his mother who was responsible for James’s captivity. Regulus could save him now and put in the work to reunite with him later.

“There are a few rules, of course.” The demon said as if they were meaningless details. “You are not allowed to tell him anything about this. You are not to tell him your name or in any way try to jumpstart his memory. Either your love is strong enough to defy our intervention, or all of this sacrificial hero thing is meaningless anyway. All they have to do to fulfil our deal is call you by your name.”

“But then… how am I supposed to do it?”

“We are talking about breaking out of hell, dear. It cannot be easy, now, can it?”

“I suppose not. …Why would you offer it anyway?” Regulus regarded the demon suspiciously. “Why give me such a chance?”

“Because the price is your soul. You have no idea what you are carrying, do you?” He put one of his disgusting fingers underneath his chin again. “Such a thing of beauty. You have been a good boy. A little sodomy on the side has never hurt anyone. You’re a good one, Regulus Black. You are damn near perfect. The  are licking their fingers after you. You have so much potential to be evil but so far, you’re a virtuous little angel-child. Do you have any idea what power a soul like yours holds for us? You give it to me now, I’m up for a promotion. If I wait ten years, you’ll live ten years like… well like you only have ten years left to live and the love of your life doesn’t remember you. Most deals are made with perfectly normal souls but after ten years you get a crumpled, black thing rattled with chlamydia and smelling like booze. You give this to me now, and I promise on the hell and my unholy father that I will do what I can to get you reunited – as soon as we’re done with this delectable little resource you pose.”

The sceptic and rationalist in his head told him not to do it. This was a demon, there were tricks and double-meaning, traps he was walking right into because he didn’t understand the intricacies of hell and demon contracts.

But he only thought of James. James, in the visitation room, a cold, dark structure with the man of his heart in chains, talking about death.

“I accept,” he said quickly. “We have a deal.”

The demon’s face lit up with glee. “Deals are closed, and souls are collected with a kiss.”

Regulus’s eyes fell on the chapped, thin lips of the man.

“I swore I would only ever kiss James.”

“Yes, I’m sure your lover will be thankful for your faithfulness while swaying on the gallows.” The thing laughed.

Regulus ground his teeth, then grabbed the demon and kissed him.

***

Now

“My Darling,” James whispered. The fire rose up around him, painting the other’s cheeks scarlet. He rushed to him and held his face in his hand like the most precious gem to grace the earth. “My sweet, sweet Darling! It is you. Oh, how I must have missed you. How I must have longed for you without knowing, every day of my wretched alternate life! I have felt un-whole, broken, with a bleeding wound in my soul, unknowing what it was I was missing. It was you! My sweet Angel, you.”

“You remember?” Regulus whispered. Black tears had escaped his eyes and chased down his cheeks into James’s hands. “You remember me? You remember us?”

“All of it. I would have never forgotten, had they not made me, my sweet. Heaven and hell could not keep me from you. My heart and soul are yours. I knew you even when I couldn’t remember you. I loved you, even when I did not know you.”

A sigh of relief escaped him, and a smile broke from his lips. It was angelic enough to break through hellfire. It should have brought hell to crumble into ruins. The stones should tremble in its wake and the heavens should worship it. They should worship him.

“I love you so. You cannot imagine. My heart grew cold and dead inside, and my soul was burned in hell, diminishing my humanity until the devil could claim me as his son – but you have revived me. You standing here and holding me is setting my soul back together and might, in time, bring my heart to its former size so that all my love shall fit into it again. Just say my name. Let me hear it again. You have always said it in the most beautiful whisper and the most passionate roar. I must hear it again and I will believe that all will be well.”

James looked into his eyes, two silver coins reflecting the fire around them. Nothing mattered but them, here. Heaven, earth, and hell shall fear them, for they might defy them all, in the end.

“Regulus,” he said and kissed him.