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James Potter had been in tighter spots before. But at least in those cases he’d had a wand in his hand and an escape route in sight. Right now, he was bound to a chair in some damp little storeroom that smelled like mold and regret. There was a single masked Death Eater standing between him and freedom.
Well. That, and the fact that he couldn’t feel his toes.
“Comfortable?” the Death Eater asked, voice low and steady. The mask gleamed dully in the lamplight. It hid every trace of expression.
“Oh, absolutely,” James said brightly, shifting so the rope scraped his wrists raw. “I’ve been meaning to book a spa appointment, but this is so much more…immersive. A bit rustic, but you can’t have everything.”
The Death Eater didn’t respond. So obviously that only encouraged him.
“You know, if you’re going to keep me here, you could at least offer me tea. Or biscuits. Custard creams would be nice. I’m not picky, but I feel like a good captor would—”
“Do you ever stop talking?”
“Not if I can help it.” James grinned, leaning forward as far as the ropes would allow. “But don’t feel bad. You’re not the first person to ask me that. And before you say anything clever about ‘silencing charms,’ I should warn you—if you curse me, I’ll just make it my life’s work to haunt you after I die. Relentlessly.”
The Death Eater’s gloved hands twitched, just barely.
“That a yes to the tea, then?”
No answer.
“Right. Strong, no sugar, splash of milk. Unless you’re one of those ‘drink it black’ people, in which case…honestly, I think that says more about you than you realize.”
The Death Eater stepped forward. James caught a whiff of something faint. Soap, clean and crisp, nothing like the sweat and grime he’d expected from a dark wizard hiding behind a mask.
Odd.
He decided to test the waters. “You know, you don’t sound like the others. No creepy hiss. No melodramatic speeches about the Dark Lord’s grand vision. Not that I’m complaining. It’s refreshing. Almost makes me think you’ve got a bit of personality under there.”
Still nothing.
James tilted his head. He studied the rigid posture. The careful economy of movement. “You’ve got to be new. Or maybe you’re one of the sensible ones, keeping your head down while the rest of the lot trip over their robes trying to impress You-Know-Who. Which is smart, really. Makes it easier to get promoted later when they’ve all…y’know…fallen on their wands.”
A sharp inhale. Not much, but enough.
“Oh, I’m right, aren’t I?” James grinned wider. “Hit a nerve there.”
The Death Eater’s hand rose slowly to the mask.
“About time,” James said. “I was beginning to think you’d leave me in suspense forever. Which would be very rude, by the way. The least you can do when you kidnap someone is let them look at the face of their captor. Builds rapport. Establishes the dynamic. All that.”
The clasps clicked, and the mask came away.
James’s grin faltered.
“…Regulus?”
Regulus Black’s face was cool and composed, but his grey eyes carried a tight, unmistakable irritation. “You have a remarkable talent for being insufferable in any situation.”
“Well, I try to keep things consistent,” James said, still processing the fact that Regulus was standing here in Death Eater gear. “Hang on—what the hell are you doing in that getup?”
“Saving your life, apparently.” Regulus’s voice was clipped, like every word had been measured and trimmed to fit exactly. “Though Merlin knows why.”
James blinked. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it, tying me up.”
“You were about thirty seconds from being caught by people who would have done far worse,” Regulus said sharply. “I did the only thing I could without raising suspicion. You’re welcome.”
“You’re welcome?” James repeated, incredulous. “Reg, you scared ten years off my life! I thought you were going to hex me into next week!”
“Stop talking.” Regulus crouched to check the ropes, tugging at the knots like he was making sure they’d hold. “If anyone comes in, you need to look terrified. That part should be easy for you.”
James stared at him. “Do you even hear yourself? You’ve got me tied up in a…what even is this…potato storeroom, and you’re telling me to look scared?”
“Yes.” Regulus straightened, his expression unreadable. “And keep your voice down.”
James leaned back in the chair, still eyeing him warily. “You know, for someone supposedly saving me, you’re doing an awful lot of scolding.”
“That’s because you’re making this difficult,” Regulus said, glancing toward the door. “Which is, apparently, your natural state of being.”
James smirked. “Sirius says the same thing.”
Regulus gave him a look that could have frozen fire. “Sirius talks too much.”
“Wonder where he gets it from,” James said under his breath. He grinned when Regulus’s jaw tightened ever so slightly.
James gave a testing pull at the ropes again. He winced when the coarse fiber bit into his wrists. “Alright, Black, hero of the hour, when exactly do I get to be untied?”
Regulus didn’t even glance at him. He was moving around the small room, pulling a crate across to block part of the door. He then adjusted the single lantern so it threw deeper shadows over James’s chair.
“That depends,” Regulus said finally. “How good are you at keeping still?”
James’s brows lifted. “I’ve got a decent record in Quidditch penalties, if that’s what you mean. But sitting around waiting to be rescued? Not my strongest suit.”
Regulus’s eyes flicked to him, something glinting there for just a second. “Then consider this practice. I quite like you tied up like this.”
James blinked. Then he let out a short laugh. “Oh, do you now?”
A faint smirk curved Regulus’s mouth. It was gone in an instant, but enough to make James wonder if he’d imagined it. “It’s quieter. Easier to think when you’re not pacing or gesturing wildly at everything.”
“You wound me,” James said, leaning back as much as the ropes allowed. “And here I thought you’d secretly been habouring a deep admiration for my hand movements.”
“Harbouring something, maybe,” Regulus said dryly, crouching beside the chair to check the knots again. His fingers brushed against James’s wrists. Cool and sure. “Not admiration.”
James tilted his head, studying him. Up close, Regulus’s composure was even more maddening. Every hair was in place. His mask was abandoned on a shelf but still commanding the same kind of distance that mask had given him.
“So, what’s the grand plan, then?” James asked. “You going to keep me in here until the war’s over, or just until I forget how to play Quidditch?”
“Until it’s safe to move you,” Regulus said without looking up.
“And when’s that going to be?”
“When I say it is.”
James grinned, unable to help himself. “You really do like being in charge, don’t you?”
Regulus stood smoothly, folding his arms. “Someone has to. You’d be dead in a ditch within an hour if I left you to your own devices.”
“Harsh. True, but harsh.” James shifted again, testing the ropes more out of stubbornness than any real belief he could break free. “You know, you could’ve just…I don’t know, grabbed me and said ‘come with me if you want to live.’ That’s a classic.”
“That would have been suspicious,” Regulus said, eyes narrowing. “And I’m not in the habit of being obvious.”
“You’re in the habit of tying people up, though?”
“Only the ones worth the trouble.”
James chuckled, letting his head tip back against the chair. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Regulus didn’t respond, but James caught the tiniest shift of his weight. Caught the almost imperceptible pause in movement.
The silence stretched. Outside, faint sounds echoed through whatever building they were in. Boots on stone. Muffled voices. The occasional metallic clatter. Every so often, Regulus’s head would turn toward the door like he was measuring the distance of a threat.
“Alright,” James said eventually, dropping his voice. “I’ll play along. I’ll sit here, tied up like a good little prisoner, and you can go do your mysterious Death Eater errands. But when this is over, you’re explaining yourself.”
“I’m not sure you’ll want the explanation,” Regulus said quietly.
“I’m not sure you get to make that call,” James countered. “I mean, you swoop in all masked and menacing. You rescue me by kidnapping me. Then you start making comments about how you like me tied up—”
Regulus shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. “Do you ever filter what comes out of your mouth?”
“Not really, no,” James said cheerfully. “Makes life more interesting.”
Regulus turned away. But not before James caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth—half irritation and half something else he couldn’t quite name. He wanted to push it. Wanted to keep poking until that smooth, unshakeable exterior cracked. But the way Regulus’s shoulders stiffened every time a sound came from the hall made him hold back.
For now.
Instead, James settled into the ropes. The coarse fibers dug into his skin. He gave Regulus a mock-salute with his bound hands. More of a finger twitch really. “Alright, Captain. Lead on.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Regulus said flatly.
“Then I guess I’ll just keep you company.”
“I’m not here for your company.”
“You’re here for my dazzling conversation, then.”
Regulus exhaled through his nose, the sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh. “You really don’t know when to stop.”
“And you,” James said, eyes narrowing with playful challenge, “really don’t know how to admit you enjoy it.”
For the first time since unmasking, Regulus met his gaze fully. Grey on hazel, steady and unflinching.
“Careful, Potter,” he said softly. “You might start to think I’m on your side.”
James smiled slowly. “And are you?”
The footsteps outside grew louder. Regulus turned sharply toward the door, expression snapping back into hard lines. “Stay quiet,” he ordered.
James didn’t argue. But his grin lingered. The boots outside stopped right at the door. James straightened automatically, instinct telling him to brace for a fight, but Regulus shot him a quick look. Just enough of a warning to keep him still.
The latch clicked, and the door creaked open to reveal two masked Death Eaters. One was tall and lean. The other was built like he’d been carved out of granite.
“Report,” the taller one said. His voice was muffled but carried the clipped authority of someone who thought he owned the room.
Regulus stepped forward, blocking James from view with deliberate precision. “Prisoner secured,” he said smoothly. “Caught him wandering too close to the perimeter. He’s tied and silenced.”
James almost snorted. Silenced, right. If only.
The shorter and bulkier one moved to peer over Regulus’s shoulder. “That the Potter boy?”
“Yes,” Regulus replied without hesitation. “Figured the Dark Lord might want him alive.”
“Alive now,” the tall one said slowly, “but if he causes trouble…”
Regulus’s voice cut like a blade. “He won’t.” James could hear the steel in that tone. The kind that didn’t invite argument.
The tall Death Eater lingered, then finally gave a curt nod. “Fine. Keep him here. The others are sweeping the east wing for more intruders.”
“Understood.” Regulus didn’t move until the door closed again. The footsteps faded back down the hall. Only then did he turn back to James. “You’re welcome,” he murmured.
James tilted his head. “That was your big cover? Acting like you’ve already hexed me into silence?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Regulus moved to the lantern. He lowered the wick so the light dimmed to a soft, smoky glow.
“Yeah, but you could’ve actually tied me up less tight,” James muttered, flexing his wrists.
“You squirm too much.” Regulus’s lips twitched faintly. “And I told you—I like you like this.”
James grinned despite himself. “Merlin’s beard, Reg, you’re really leaning into that one.”
“Maybe I am.”
It was hard to tell in the low light, but James could’ve sworn there was the faintest glint of mischief in Regulus’s eyes. That, more than anything, kept him still for once. He shifted in the chair. He tried to ease the pressure on his arms. “So how long until you untie me for real?”
Regulus glanced at the door again. “Not until I’m certain no one will see.”
“That could be hours,” James said.
“Then it’s hours.”
James gave him an incredulous look. “You know, for a bloke supposedly rescuing me, you have the bedside manner of a brick wall.”
“Brick walls don’t get themselves killed by being sentimental,” Regulus shot back. “And they don’t give the game away by talking too much.”
James smirked. “But you are sentimental.”
Regulus’s gaze sharpened, but he didn’t answer. He moved instead to stand by the door. He was listening for sounds in the hallway.
The silence between them was taut, filled with things James wanted to say but knew he shouldn’t. He studied Regulus’s profile. The sharp jawline. The way he held himself like the whole world was waiting to pounce. He was so different from Sirius and yet, in fleeting moments, startlingly the same.
“You could’ve just left me,” James said quietly.
Regulus didn’t turn. “I could’ve.”
“And you didn’t.”
Regulus glanced back at him then, eyes unreadable. “Don’t mistake pragmatism for charity.”
James huffed a laugh. “You’re terrible at lying when it’s about yourself, you know that?” Before Regulus could answer, the sound of hurried footsteps returned. Closer. Sharper. A voice barked something James couldn’t quite catch.
Regulus straightened, mask back on in one smooth motion. “Stay quiet,” he said again. Low and certain.
The door opened, and the tall Death Eater reappeared. “Orders changed,” he said. “Bring him to the hall. The Dark Lord wants to see him now. He’ll be arriving soon.”
Regulus’s hand closed around the back of James’s chair, steadying it as if ready to move him. Then, just as quickly, he said, “The corridor isn’t secure. I’ll bring him when it is.”
The tall one hesitated. “You’d better hurry. The others aren’t going to wait on your—”
“I’ll hurry,” Regulus interrupted.
The Death Eater stared at him for a beat longer before leaving again. James let out a slow breath. “They’re really not going to give you any peace, are they?”
Regulus didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned down just enough for James to hear his whisper through the mask. “When I move you, follow my lead. No matter what happens.”
James’s smile faded. “You’re making it sound like you’ve got some sort of ridiculous plan.”
“I do,” Regulus said simply. “And it only works if you do exactly as I say.”
James met his gaze for a long moment, then nodded once. “Alright, Black. Lead the way.”
Regulus’s fingers worked at the knots. Just enough to loosen them without making it obvious. The ropes still looked secure, but James could now flex his wrists and feel the faint give in the fibers.
“Up,” Regulus ordered, tugging him to his feet.
James rolled his shoulders, blood rushing back into his arms in hot pins and needles. “You could say please.”
“Not in front of them.”
Regulus pushed the door open, stepping out into a dim stone corridor. Two masked Death Eaters lingered a few yards ahead, muttering to each other. Regulus’s hand settled between James’s shoulder blades. The firm pressure steered him forward.
“You’re walking in front,” Regulus said under his breath. “Easier for me to make it look like I’m controlling you.”
James shot him a sidelong look. “You are controlling me.”
“Not for long,” Regulus replied.
They moved down the corridor, boots echoing against the cold floor. James felt every gaze on them. Every murmur from the shadows. Every flicker of suspicion. Regulus stayed half a pace behind, his hand never leaving James’s back.
Halfway down the hall, something cool and solid brushed against James’s fingers. He looked down and realized Regulus was pressing something into his palm.
It was his wand.
James’s eyes widened. “What—?”
Regulus’s voice was barely audible. “When I tell you, hex me.”
James almost tripped. “Sorry, what? You want me to—”
“Yes.” The word was sharp, final.
“Reg, that’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s the only plan we have.” Regulus’s tone carried an edge of urgency James hadn’t heard before. “They’ll never let you go if they think I’m helping you. If you hex me, it’ll look like you overpowered me. They’ll focus on me, not you.”
James frowned, gripping the wand tighter. “That’s—no. I’m not leaving you here to get killed.”
“You’re not leaving me anywhere,” Regulus said, guiding him around a corner where the corridor narrowed. “I know what I’m doing.”
“You think you know—”
“I do know.” The firmness in his voice brooked no argument. “Trust me, Potter.”
They emerged into a larger hallway, lit by torches whose flames threw long, jagged shadows. More Death Eaters milled about, their attention flicking toward the pair as they passed. Regulus’s posture was all business. His shoulders were squared. His steps were measured. It was as though nothing in the world could touch him.
James kept his head down, but his mind was racing. Hexing Regulus in front of the others would paint a target on him. And Regulus seemed perfectly calm about that fact.
“You really think I’m going to just—”
“Yes.” Regulus’s voice cut through the air, so soft it was almost lost in the echo of their steps. “When I say now, you do it.”
James glanced back at him. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe.” A flicker of a smirk touched Regulus’s mouth. “But you’ll be alive.”
They reached the far end of the hallway where two heavy oak doors loomed. The murmur of voices on the other side was louder here, and James caught the occasional sharp laugh. Regulus shifted his grip on James’s arm, the gesture deceptively casual but with a sudden squeeze of warning.
His lips barely moved. “Now.”
James didn’t hesitate. His wand came up in a smooth motion, and he fired a Stunner point-blank. Red light flared, striking Regulus square in the chest. He staggered back, the impact hurling him into the wall with a dull thud before he slid to the ground.
Shouts erupted.
Every masked head in the corridor turned toward James, wands snapping up. He didn’t wait for them to fire. He spun, blasting the nearest Death Eater with a Disarming Charm so forceful the man slammed into a torch bracket. The hallway became chaotic. Spells were streaking and shouts were echoing. Smoke curled where a torch was knocked from its sconce.
James caught one last glimpse of Regulus—slumped but breathing—before the fight swallowed everything. The air in the corridor turned to fire and smoke.
James ducked low, a streak of sickly green slicing the air above him close enough to make his hair prickle. He rolled, wand snapping up to blast the granite-built Death Eater square in the chest. The man hit the ground with a grunt and didn’t move.
“Get him!” someone shouted.
Three spells streaked toward James in quick succession. He sidestepped one, deflected another, and let the third slam into a nearby wall. It left a crater the size of a dinner plate.
This was bad. Really bad. Regulus’s insane plan had worked—every eye was on James now—but that also meant he was about three seconds from being overwhelmed. He sprinted down the hall, boots skidding on the stone. A curse sizzled past his ear and shattered a torch bracket ahead. It showered sparks onto the floor. James dove through the embers, coughing on the thick smoke that rolled into the air.
The place was a maze. Corridors branched off in every direction, identical walls lit by the same guttering torches. He took a sharp left, heart pounding. He nearly slammed into another masked figure.
“Expelliarmus!”
The wand flew from the Death Eater’s hand, clattering across the stones. James stunned him before he could reach for it. Voices echoed behind him, closer now. They were spreading out, herding him toward—Merlin help him—the main hall.
James skidded to a stop at the sight of the double doors ahead. He could hear the murmur of a crowd beyond, the kind of sound that carried the weight of too many enemies in one place. Definitely not the way out.
He spun back the way he came, only to see three Death Eaters rounding the corner. James’s mind worked fast. The ceiling overhead was low, lined with thick beams. Perfect.
He raised his wand and fired. The nearest beam cracked and gave way with a groaning snap, sending a section of the ceiling crashing down between him and the approaching Death Eaters. Dust and splinters filled the air. James coughed, squinting through the haze. He spotted a narrow side passage to his right. He bolted for it.
The corridor here was darker. Colder. Quieter. His footsteps echoed too loudly in the silence. He didn’t trust it.
A whisper cut through the air. “Potter.”
James froze. The voice was low and urgent. It came from somewhere behind him. He turned—and saw a figure step out from the shadows. Mask off, face pale in the dim light.
“Regulus.”
He looked unharmed. Winded, maybe, but standing straight.
“Keep moving,” Regulus said, slipping past him and taking the lead this time. “They’ll be on us in less than a minute.”
“You’re welcome, by the way,” James said, jogging to keep up.
“For what?”
“For not making that Stunner stronger. I could’ve knocked you out cold.”
Regulus glanced back, one eyebrow raised. “You’re assuming you could.”
James huffed a laugh, but didn’t push it. “So where exactly are we going?”
“There’s a side exit ahead. Ward’s weak. I can break it.”
They rounded another corner. James could already hear the faint sound of night air. Could hear the whistling through a gap somewhere up ahead. Behind them, shouts echoed.
“Faster,” Regulus said, breaking into a run.
James followed. The corridor opened into a small antechamber with a heavy wooden door set into the far wall. Regulus raised his wand, murmured something sharp and quick, and the door shuddered. A faint shimmer—the ward—flared and broke with a brittle sound.
“Go,” Regulus ordered.
James hesitated. “What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
James’s eyes narrowed. “You’d better be.”
He pushed the door open and cold night air rushed in, damp with the smell of rain. Outside was a narrow stone path leading into a stretch of dark trees. Perfect cover.
James stepped out—then heard the crack of a curse behind him. He spun in time to see Regulus fling a shield charm over his shoulder, blocking a blast from one of the Death Eaters now pouring into the antechamber.
“Run!” Regulus barked.
James didn’t argue. He bolted into the trees, the shouts behind him fading as the forest swallowed them both. It wasn’t until they’d put a good hundred yards between themselves and the building that James slowed, chest heaving. Regulus caught up seconds later, expression tight but steady.
“You’re insane,” James said, grinning despite the adrenaline still buzzing through him.
“Maybe,” Regulus replied, brushing a lock of hair back from his face. “But you’re alive.”
The forest closed in around them, the moonlight breaking only in pale shards through the thick canopy. Their boots crunched on damp leaves. It was the only sound besides the ragged rhythm of their breathing.
When they were far enough that the shouts had faded to nothing, James finally stopped. He planted his hands on his knees. “Merlin’s beard…” he panted. “You couldn’t have warned me your escape plan involved all of this?”
Regulus didn’t slow until he reached him. His voice was calm. Almost infuriatingly so. “If I’d told you, you would have argued.”
“You’re bloody right I would’ve argued,” James said, straightening and turning to face him. “And you’d still have done it, because apparently you’ve decided you’re the one who gets to decide whether I live or die.”
Regulus’s grey eyes met his, steady. “If I didn’t decide, you wouldn’t be standing here.”
James held that gaze for a moment, chest still rising and falling with leftover adrenaline. “Is this it, then?” he asked quietly. “Is this why you left?”
The air between them seemed to still, heavy with something unspoken.
Regulus didn’t answer right away. His hand tightened slightly on his wand. But he didn’t look away. “Yes.”
James’s stomach turned. “You left me—left all of it—because you thought I couldn’t handle myself?”
“No,” Regulus said, voice low. “I left because every day I stayed, I made you a target. And I wasn’t going to watch you get killed because of me.”
James gave a short, humorless laugh. “That’s rich. You think running off to play double agent in snake masks makes me safer?”
“It kept them from looking at you,” Regulus shot back, a rare crack in his composure. “They thought I’d chosen a side. It made you irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant?” James repeated, his voice rough. “You think I’d rather be irrelevant to you than stand beside you?”
Regulus flinched. So subtly that James might have missed it if he didn’t know him so damn well. “You think it was easy?” he asked, softer now. “Leaving? Pretending not to care? I’d rather you hate me for walking away than—” He broke off, shaking his head. “You don’t get it.”
“I get it fine,” James said, stepping closer. “You left because you thought you were protecting me. You never asked if that’s what I wanted.”
Regulus’s lips parted, but nothing came out. For a moment, the only sound was the wind shifting in the leaves overhead.
“I didn’t need protecting from you,” James said quietly. “I needed you.”
Something in Regulus’s expression faltered. The mask slipped just enough for James to see the truth for half a second. Then it was gone. Replaced with the same measured calm.
“You should go,” Regulus said.
James huffed out a breath, shaking his head. “Always pushing me away.”
“It’s the only way you’ll stay alive.”
They stood there a moment longer, the space between them tight with everything unsaid. Then Regulus turned, his cloak brushing the damp leaves, and started back into the trees.
James watched him go, heart pounding for a very different reason than the fight they’d just escaped. “See you around, Black,” he called after him. His voice was softer than he meant.
Regulus didn’t answer, but James thought he saw his shoulders tighten before the shadows swallowed him whole.