"You’re not leaving us, Haz," James murmured, pulling him flush against his chest; Regulus’ hands never stopped their gentle caress on his face, even as the tears waned. They traced, light as song, from his face to his hair, brushing the damp pieces back. "You’ll be home for Christmas and Easter if you want. And the entirety of summer. We’ll write and send you gifts. You’re not leaving us." 