When the Sun and Stars Unite (Jegulus Oneshots)

On The Edge

James just wants one night to forget about running and fighting. Saving Regulus from a boring date wasn't exactly on the list, but it turns out to be one of his better ideas, all things considered.

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James pulls the door to the Leaky Cauldron open, nodding at someone who's passing him without really taking notice. The pub is dimly lit, smoke wafting through the thick air, and his eyes need a moment to adjust to the change from the bright lights of London while he weaves his way through scattered groups of people.

It's not as crowded as it could be, and he once again mourns that all his friends already deserted him. Honestly, he expects as much from Remus, and recently it's rare to catch Peter at all, but Sirius, leaving him for an 'early night'? Unacceptable.

He's not even close to being drunk yet, tipsy at most, and he's planning to take advantage of the whole three days without work, or Order missions, or any other responsibilities in what feels like forever. Friends or no friends.

It doesn't take long for a Firewhiskey to land in his hands and after thanking the barkeeper, he turns to face the room, propping one elbow behind himself onto the bar and crossing his ankles.

He pulls a grimace at the first sip, the burning a stark difference to the cheap Muggle beer they had, but he relishes how he can feel it running down his throat.

Letting his gaze wander through the room, searching if he can't find someone he knows and who might be more willing to forget the bloody world with him for a night, he startles when he thinks he just found Sirius.

On the second glance it's rather obvious that his friend didn't abandon him for this. Not that encountering Regulus Black here is any less strange, with a date of all things if his eyesight isn't failing him even more than usual.

She looks exactly like James would Regulus' date expect to look - pretty but not exceptionally so, long, brown hair and pristine, obviously expensive robes. Everything about her practically screams Pureblood and James snorts softly at the predictability, ignoring the thought that Regulus could do much better.

They're sitting next to each other, but it seems like she does most of the talking while Regulus merely nods along. James can only make out his profile from where he's standing, but the way Regulus' eyes keep straying to the door and over the people around them is telling enough.

Shaking his head he turns away, noting with surprise that his glass is already empty and ordering a new one. He exchanges a few words with the barkeeper, how the business is getting worse with every day, how people barely linger anymore and, basically, how the whole war is just shit.

James agrees, wholeheartedly, but he doesn't want to think about it, wants just one night to forget about fighting and being scared and always looking over his shoulder. He thinks he should probably have stayed in Muggle London, but the whiskey is good and he doesn't feel inclined to move again. And his eyes keep straying to that one table despite his best efforts.

He downs his glass in one go and orders another, earning himself an amused look from the barkeeper – Benny, if he remembers correctly – but it's not like he cares, like he has to justify himself to anyone, and he just wants more of that fuzziness spreading through his whole body. Of the way his thinking is getting slower, of how when he moves his head quickly, the colours and faces blur together and everything is becoming more abstract, inconsequential, like there's only him and whatever he sets his mind to – like he's fourteen again and the whole world is only waiting for him to grasp it, to form it like he wants it to be.