James pushed Harry gently, leaning him against Regulus’ chest. "Hold him." Regulus looked up, daring for the briefest of moments to meet James" eyes. There was pain there —the was so much pain buried beneath a small smile, and the lines in his forehead —not the smile lines Regulus was endeared to. It was worry. There was worry and anger and a sort of fury Regulus couldn't understand when their eyes locked. James was angry with him. James was angry with him and he had placed his son in Regulus" lap to be held. James didn't get angry —not this sort of angry. Because this was anger and hurt and rage. This was the sort of emotion that accompanied devastating grief. James did not know how to feel those emotions.