“I’m not scared,” he repeats. “I’m smart. There’s a difference.”
“If you say so,” James knocks his foot again, this time staying there, pressed to Regulus’s ankle.
“But my point was that if you did happen to be scared,” James holds up his hand the minute he sees Regulus open his mouth, “which you aren’t, obviously. But if you were, you should know that you’d have a distinct advantage going in there with me.”
Regulus snorts. “And why’s that?”
“Because,” James grins. “Gryffindors are contractually obligated to sacrifice themselves. So you’ll have a decent head start while whatever terrible monster we run into feasts on my flesh.”
There’s a beat of silence before Regulus drops his face into his knees, shoulders shaking with laughter.
Making Regulus laugh is new. Good new. Really good new. It feels like scoring a goal in a quidditch match. Like scoring the winning goal.
