Chapter Text
Regulus tries to keep his thoughts to himself about James, but something interesting about Regulus is how good he is at repressing things. When Regulus says he is keeping his thoughts to himself, what he means to say is he is ignoring them completely, which is why nobody else knows about them either, because he is not even acknowledging them.
The problem is that other people do know. Even if other people will only ever mean Pandora. Because Pandora always knows.
"I don't see the problem, Reg," she starts, even though they've been sitting outside in silence for 10 minutes, and there is no clear reason for her to have jumped into the conversation where she has, which feels like skipping the first half of it. The first half is the easy half, too, and that's the bit Regulus is prepared for, so this is really rather like being thrown in at the deep end. Except the pool he's being thrown into doesn't have a deep end, because it's not actually a pool, it's the Black Lake, and also he is getting dragged deeper by the Giant Squid. It makes sense to compare Pandora to the Giant Squid, because she defends it from the entire school's criticisms. She doesn't even like it, she's told him. Regulus doesn't understand, but he never does with her, so he doesn't bother trying to explain the convoluted simile she's got no way of knowing about.
(Then again, most things Pandora knows about are things she should have no way to. She gets good grades, but she seems to know much less about transfiguration than about the internal workings of Regulus' mind. Things not even he knows about himself come out of Pandora's mouth like they're old news.)
He hums lightly, waiting for her to fill in what she doesn't see a problem with. Hopefully, if there's no problem that she can identify, that's all she's got to say, and she'll wait for him to realise it himself, and come to her himself, and then they can talk about the problem.
"With James,"
Never mind. There is a problem.
"There's no problem with James, Pandora," Regulus says lightly, like there is no problem with James, and applauds his own ability to lie. Whether or not Pandora believes it- which she never does, never has, and Merlin knows probably never will- is a different matter; it's all about accepting victories where you can get them when you're this out of your depth, and Regulus certainly believes there's a victory in holding his nerve enough to lie.
"There is," she says, like it's simple, because to her it probably is. It is certainly not simple to Regulus.
"Then what is it?"
She smiles faintly, like she's participating in the conversation through a third party, and the wind runs gently past them, trailing streamers that are slowly transforming back into leaves after some undoubtedly raucous party that Regulus had had to step over many reminders of to get to Pandora. It's warm, which is a bonus, and Pandora leans her head back and enjoys it. She lets it run over her skin, smiles at its touch, and welcomes it like an old friend.
Pandora's always been like that. The wind is probably a dearer friend to her than Regulus, not that he minds; from his understanding they're very off-and-on-again. She's never been a fan of the cold weather, so she doesn't go outside in the winter, and she and her affectionate friend don't speak to one another for the season, leaving Regulus to be her best friend and trusted secret-keeper. The thing about Pandora is that when she tells you a secret, neither of you will ever know it's meant to be one, until you speak it to somebody else, and the second you do, that's when you realise. That’s why the wind’s such a friend of hers; it has nobody but her to tell. It would be frustrating, but she is who she is, and Regulus loves her for it, so he watches her greet the wind and knows that if they are best friends over the summer, it is only because Regulus can't speak to her then.
"Mm," she doesn't reply properly, like she's somewhere else entirely, and Regulus lets her be, because so what if she is? She has never had the same relationship to the world as he has, and it's no fault of her own, nor really a fault at all. "If there's no problem, then I suppose you're right, there's no problem."
She's almost infuriating, except she never is. Regulus thinks of her fondly, and though their friendship is deeper than fondness, he's more than happy to acknowledge that that's there too, and though he's established he lies to Pandora, it's never anything she couldn't fill in for herself, anyway (this might be a broad statement; Pandora seems bloody omniscient sometimes, but Regulus can't fault her knowing things ), and she's probably his best friend.
"Salazar, you never tell me anything, Pan," he says with some flourish, and falls backwards, throwing an arm over his face. Like this, laying on the red-and-white chequered picnic blanket she'd brought for them both, with the wind running its coarse fingers through his hair, he gets why it's a friend to Pandora. The sun's shining for once (and he says for once because it might be April, but it's also Scotland, and you can't ever waste a day when the sun's out in Scotland) and he wonders if the sun's Pandora's friend, too, because Regulus can feel its touch on his face, much more gentle than the wind, and Regulus thinks he likes the sun.
"I tell you lots of things," she hums while she waits for her sentence to finish itself, laying down next to him, much more ceremonious as she does so, and when Regulus looks over to her, her hair's splayed out in a perfect circle around the top of her head, sort of like a halo, though she might not like the comparison. He waits, and she waits, and so do the wind and sun, and eventually she comes back to him with, "you just never know what I mean."
He huffs.
"Maybe you should be a little more understandable."
She laughs gently, and easily, and puts her hand on top of his on the blanket, not holding, just touching. He doesn't move to change it to a holding-hands situation, and nor does she, because neither of them particularly like it, and they don't need to. This is touching for touching's sake, and Regulus doesn't normally benefit from it, but Pandora always knows how to do these things, and her hand is warm while his is cold, and he wonders if she's been thinking about the sun, too, and if she sees how she's fitting into the metaphor, while he continues to exist as himself, waiting for the world to interact with him instead of the other way around.
"Well, there goes any plans I had of telling you how to avoid the conversation you're going to have with your brother soon."
He groans and rolls into her side, curling up a little, and she doesn't lift an arm to embrace him, or turn to look at him, they just lay there, touching, because they like it. And they do. Pandora is warm, and she's not like Regulus physically; while he's slender and vaguely muscled on a good day, he's skinny on a bad one- and he has a lot of bad ones when eating is too hard- and Pandora is soft, and there's enough of her to make her comfortable to lean into, and Regulus loves her for it.
"How soon?"
She hums noncommittally, which is an answer, and the answer is no, I said I wouldn't tell you anything, and he leans a little further into her and tells her how beautiful she looks in this light, a simple bribe he knows she won’t fall for, and she says, "I know," and they don't say anything else.
(When Pandora says she knows she’s beautiful, it's not like when other people say it, because it's not borne of vanity, nor really confidence, either. She doesn't say it like a fact, or a question, or an answer, for that matter. She’s just aware, vaguely, like it's not really important to her, but when she says she knows, she does. Regulus admires her simple acceptance of things. It makes her very easy to talk to, and very nice to listen to.)
When Pandora gets up, it’s answer enough to the question of how soon , because Pandora knows things, and she does not leave first unless something is about to happen. He can also hear the sound of his brother's footsteps, because he steps loudly on the streamers-turned-leaves, not like he doesn't care about them, but like he’s announcing his presence. Regulus falls away from where Pandora was, not feeling comfortable now that all he's leaning into is the grass, and he watches her brush down her skirt, like the blanket isn't charmed to keep their uniforms from accumulating dust or silt.
"Don't go, Pan," he says, but it's accepting, and she hums easily and leans down to kiss his forehead. "Be good. And I want the blanket back before dinner, please, Reg," and then she’s walking away. Just like the rest of her touch, she leaves a little warmth behind on his forehead, but Regulus is a Black, which means he doesn't get time to enjoy things he likes, and almost as soon as Pandora is gone, there's not one but two more people trying to squeeze their way fully onto the blanket.
He rolls his head lazily to the left, where Pandora had been before, and is unsurprised to see his brother, but slightly surprised to see James. James who is like the sun in his touch, a little like Pandora, but is also like the sun in his smile, while Pandora is much more like the wind. He supposes it’s a habit she might've picked up; he's seen his friends pick up habits from each other all the time. Barty rolls his eyes with a smile when he's pretending to be annoyed because Regulus does it, and Evan drums his fingers on surfaces when he's expectant because Pandora does it, and Regulus chews at the skin of his thumb when he's a little nervous because Evan does it. It only makes sense that Pandora gets her habits from her other friends, too, and certainly explains the transitory qualities to the smile that Regulus has never quite been able to explain.
"Sirius," he greets, and then pushes to his elbows to nod his head at James, who's still wearing that smile like his crush said it looked cool.
"Brother," says Sirius, and then he sits up just to throw himself back again, and winces when his head hits the ground harder than he was expecting. Regulus leans back down himself, and lets the sun hold him in its hands again, and he drops all expression from his face, loosening all the muscles, just letting himself enjoy it, for a time.
( Brother, brother, brother. The word runs laps in Regulus’ mind. Are they those? Is he allowed that?)
(The part of his brain that came up with his plan is screaming, no, no, no. Not now, not ever. The part of his brain that wants him to be happy is telling him to reach out a hand to Sirius.)
As a Black, too, Sirius can't enjoy things like nice sunshine for long, and groans loudly, hitting James on the shoulder like he's asking for help. James shakes his head softly and Sirius throws himself back again, much more careful with his head this time, and Regulus opens his eyes to see James look at Sirius fondly, probably something like how he looks at Pandora himself.
"What do you want, Sirius," he says, and notes that his voice sounds tired, which he quite likes. It doesn't show outright distaste, which is good, because there isn't any, not really, but he can't allow his walls to come down too fast- he can't . He needs to get over Sirius leaving before it happens, and that's going to be much harder if he lets himself remember they're brothers. He's been repressing that for quite some time, and it would be nice if it stayed that way, though he's sure this conversation won't let it. Merlin, nothing in Regulus' life can last, can it? Not even his own feelings. Christ.
(That’s an expression he’s picked up from Lily. He’s not quite sure what it means, but he’ll ask, next time he sees her, maybe.)
He starts uneasily. "Sorry if we interrupted you with... your girlfriend?" And Regulus laughs, because Pandora is a lot of things, but she has never been that, and never will be. Regulus likes girls, sure, but Pandora isn't really one of those, in the same way that she is, and it's not that Regulus would like her any less if she approached him and said she wasn't one, but that's not the point- the point is that Pandora isn't his girlfriend, and the thought is really funny, so he laughs a little more, and a little louder.
"Pandora's not my girlfriend," he says, turning to look at his brother and James with a smile so easy that he's starting to notice him picking up another habit from his friends, this time from Pandora herself. She would be so proud if she could see him; not immediately telling his brother to piss off. Really, he only let Sirius stay because Pandora told him it would happen, but the fact that it's a very nice day and that the sun is still taking care of him is certainly no detriment to the conversation. James doesn't take his eyes off Regulus for the whole time he smiles and it seems to prompt a smile in him that he hadn't expected, and there it fucking is, the problem with James. Pandora is a genius, and Regulus is an idiot, and Merlin, he's got a thing for James Potter.
Fucking Christ (yeah, he’s definitely going to ask what it means). An extremely inappropriate realisation for the conversation his brother is trying to have with him, probably. Not that Sirius has given any indication what they might be talking about, but Regulus is more than happy to look at James until his brother can spit it out. With the way he looks back, Regulus thinks James would agree with the sentiment.
It feels oddly intimate for a stolen glance over the resting body of his brother, whose eyes are closed, and who seems to be getting to know the sun, too. Regulus wonders if they'll end up friends, like Pandora and the wind, and then he wonders when he took so much of her lifestyle on board. Then, of course, it's shattered, because Sirius has never been good at getting to know people in Regulus' experience with him, and he seems to have much the same problem when he's getting to know things.
"I love you, Regulus," says Sirius, and then his eyes go wide like he hadn't expected himself to say that, and he scrambles to sit up straight and keep talking. "Like, you're my brother, you know? And, and, I get it if you don't want to be brothers, or something, but I would really like to. Be brothers. Do you want to be my brother, Regulus?"
Regulus' mouth hangs open, because what the fuck is he meant to say to that? It’s the one thing he’s been avoiding this entire time, precisely because of how much he wants that, and how much he needed to hear it, as well.
His eyes dart frantically between Sirius and James, and while Sirius seems to be nervous, biting at his thumb like he's got a hangnail, James is the calm moon to his raging ocean and he gently pries the thumb away from Sirius' mouth, and Regulus notes that it's already been bitten to the quick. James looks up to Regulus and their eyes meet, and he gives him a quiet shrug and gentle nod, like he's saying, say what you like, as long as it's honest. I've got him, if you haven't.
(Regulus thinks he really, really likes James.)
(No, no. He does not. And even if he did, which he doesn’t, as he’s mentioned, it's definitely not the time. Definitely, definitely not the time. Not that there’s anything for it to be not the time for.)
"I, um," and Sirius is standing while Regulus fumbles for an answer, looking thoroughly embarrassed, and Regulus doesn't know what to say, so he grabs at his brother's wrist, and looks at him, and hopes that everything he wants to say is implicit, because the words won't come.
Sirius' eyes go soft at the corners, something beautifully hopeful that he hasn't seen a lot of, because hope isn't really permitted in the House of Black. He doesn't say a word, just holds Sirius still, and slowly makes his way to his feet, trying not to scare Sirius, like he might run away. Isn't that ironic? Regulus has been the one running this whole time, so it would hurt less when Sirius did, but he was always, always going to need him to stay. He should've bloody known.
"Yes," says Regulus, quietly, looking down when he does so. "I want to be your brother. I want that a lot."
Sirius smiles to himself, something small, and Regulus only knows it’s there because he dips his chin to do it, and that’s how he’s always smiled when he wants to keep his smiling to himself.
(In the business of noting acquired habits, Regulus does the same thing. Three guesses who he got it from.)
“It has never been that I don’t want to be your brother, Sirius,” he admits, quiet, even though he knows the only people around to hear him are his brother, James Potter, and the wind. “I just don’t know how to be.”
Sirius looks almost sad at that, and Regulus can’t deal with it, so he loosens his grip on his brother’s wrist and sits back onto the blanket, pulling his knees into himself. His hands are set either side of him, to keep him steady, and James sets a gentle hand on top of his own. When Regulus looks up at him, there’s a smile on his face, the same one as before, and there’s something shining in his eyes that Regulus can’t place and doesn’t want to, just for the novelty of seeing something make James light up like that.
“What do you mean you don’t know how?”
Regulus looks up at Sirius, who’s still standing. He looks like he wishes he could be pacing, because he’s jittery, but Regulus knows what he’s thinking. It would be okay to pace in other conversations, but not this- not conversations about family, because their father does that. And this is a conversation about family that’s not about him- a conversation about a family that could actually love each other, or learn to, because they’re family who really, really want to try. Sirius bounces his leg but stands still.
He sighs. “What are your plans for the summer, Sirius?”
And his tone is tired, again, but that’s because he is. He’s tired of pretending that Sirius might just stay, but also of pretending that when he leaves it won’t hurt, and he’s tired of pretending he’s not tired, too. He really is.
His brother’s face turns guilty and Regulus knows he knows. He smiles, though it’s small, and he pushes his face into his knees, having to speak a little louder to be heard because of it.
“That’s what this is, Sirius. All it’s ever been- it’s not really about you, not properly. I know why you’re doing it. I just needed to not know you, because I needed not to hurt when you do.”
Regulus doesn’t look up, but he feels James’ thumb start to brush regularly over the back of his hand. It’s warm, but James always has been.
“I don’t know how to make it not hurt, Reg,” says Sirius, and Regulus sighs.
“Nor do I, Sirius.”
It’s not conclusive. It was never going to be. But at least it’s out there.
-
It’s a bad day, and Lily doesn’t know why, it just is.
Days like these, she wakes up and tries to straighten her hair and feels her brain start to go prickly when she catches the hairbrush on a knot and has to put it down so she can breathe. Days like these, she can’t really engage in conversation like normal, so she doesn’t go to breakfast. Days like these, nobody has to know anything is wrong, so nobody does.
On Tuesdays, she doesn't normally see Regulus- generally, they meet up on Wednesday evenings (unless there's a Slug Club meeting on a different day in that week, in which case they go for that instead, because it's easier to co-ordinate)- so, when a tiny origami bird finds its way to her, flapping weakly like it's been looking for some time, in her third period class (when did it get to third period? Today has been passing in a haze), she's surprised to note his handwriting on the outside of the letter it turns back into when it lands on her desk.
Lily, it reads, which is odd, because he tries to keep their correspondence as brief as possible when they're not speaking in person- something about better understanding what's being said when he can see it being said and feeling the need not to be misconstrued, which is something Lily can appreciate herself, let alone respect- but she's not really in the headspace to look into it.
Lily, it reads, you don't have to talk to me, but if something is wrong, and you want to, I'll be somewhere you know where to find me at lunch and in sixth.
They're friends more than she'd expect- these days, although they kiss a lot (and they do, which is something Lily won't complain about), they tend to talk more. Lily talks to Regulus about everything she can think of, and Regulus talks to Lily about things from a list of certain topics that he never seems to deviate from, but she doesn't mind, because she knows he has to be careful. Being that careful is his way of showing her he wants to keep being friends, because he's not giving their friendship any uncertain ground to stand on.
They're friends more than she'd have ever expected, more than just in general, if she's honest, and she finds that thinking of spending a little time with him between fifth and sixth (she's got a transfiguration double sixth and seventh, which means she can't stay too long unless she wants a detention, and she doesn't spend that much time with the Marauders to feel like wielding that as some badge of honour) brings a smile to her face. It makes third period much easier to sit through, and she's free fourth, so she spends quite a lot of time just thinking about it.
It's quite sweet, really, not because it's particularly surprising when she thinks about it a little more but just because it's wholly unexpected. Regulus doesn't do a lot of reaching out- he sets up their meetings, sure, but in the same way that she's never asked any particular level of emotional vulnerability from him, he's never asked that of her, either.
Maybe because he'd waited a while to ask, the idea of it isn't all that bad, and so, when, at lunchtime, instead of going to the Great Hall, she makes her way to the come and go room, and the door is ever so slightly ajar, revealing the potions classroom again (like it usually is for the two of them, by now), even when her head still hurts in a way that's not physical, she smiles at Regulus when she sees him. Because they're friends, properly, and she can talk to him, and she wants to.
"Hello," he says, stepping away from the cauldron on one of the desks at the front to stand a little closer to her. "Everything okay?"
She takes a breath in- she can talk, and wants to talk, still, but she's not ready yet- and says, "I think this is the first time one of us has actually brewed something in here."
He snorts and takes a step back to his cauldron. "Courtesy of Slughorn," he says, "it's why I'm here." (She's silently immensely thankful that he doesn't push- who knew Regulus was so... nice? Except her, because, now that she thinks about it, she thinks she did know that. Definitely does, now.)
"Slughorn?" She asks, and Regulus sighs a little dramatically and says, "he forgot to brew a demonstration Draught of the Living Death for one of his classes later, but he's teaching all day, so the best potioner he's ever taught had to step in to save him."
She snickers a little at the way he says best potioner in a poor impression of Professor Slughorn, and he grins at her. "It's not even that hard," he says, like it's not a NEWT-level potion, and he's not a fifth-year, the stuck-up bloody idiot, "I think I could brew one of these in my sleep, which isn't really a good sign for his teaching position if he can't do it just mildly distracted, is it?"
"Rather you than him," she says, taking a seat on one of the benches a few rows back from Regulus' potion- not that she doesn't trust his potions abilities, but it's basic lab safety. "At least you'd help me out if I wasn’t very good.”
“I can’t imagine that world,” says Regulus, and Lily smiles, and says, “you flirt.”
He stirs the potion and they fall into silence. It's not uncomfortable, but then, Lily doesn't expect it to be; something about spending time with Regulus just makes sense in a way that most things don't. Especially not today.
"How did you know something was up?" she asks him, eventually, and he hums. "Do you know Pandora?"
Lily takes a moment to think, and then comes up with a blonde Ravenclaw she seems to remember being in their year. After a moment, she asks, "Ollivander?" and he nods, and she says, "then, yes. Why's she relevant?"
Regulus smiles to himself- "she's something of a seer, is Pan. She just told me she thought I should check on you, and, well... when she thinks I should do something, it's not normally a think, it's more of a know."
"Oh," says Lily, "why did she see me?"
"She normally only sees people she's close to, or things happening around them," Regulus tells her, "it's probably because we're friends."
The confirmation- well, it was obvious, really, but still- it's nice. Because, Lily knows, realistically, that if Regulus didn't give a fuck, he wouldn't have reached out in the first place, and if he only gave a little bit of a fuck (Lily's thinking maybe half, but something like a third is probably a little bit more accurate) he would've just pushed for her to answer, so they could talk, and then he could leave, knowing he'd done a sort-of nice thing (because he won't ever fess up to doing something nice for people).
So, yeah- Lily knows they're friends, because the way he acts with her makes it obvious. But it's nice to hear him say it.
"Oh," she says, not really knowing how to express the importance of the sentiment. "Well, alright. I hope Ollivander wasn't too worried for me."
"Not many things worry her," says Regulus, no longer stirring the potion, just observing it, as it slowly changes colour. After it goes clear, from the gentle lilac colour it was before, he nods once to himself, and then walks to one of the cabinets at the back of the room that Lily knows have vials in them (they... may have been responsible for breaking a few of them, in here, together, when they were... otherwise occupied, and not really focused), and then he continues, "I think she just knew it would worry me."
Well then.
"Aw," says Lily, deflecting as best she can, "you worry about me?"
Regulus looks up from where he's now standing over the cauldron again, vial in hand, ladling the clear potion into it with care. He raises an eyebrow. "Did you not expect me to? I'm a Slytherin, Lily, not a heartless monster. Slytherins protect their own."
"I'm hardly a Slytherin, though," she laughs, "I'm pretty sure they don't like muggleborns in there."
Regulus shrugs, turning back to his potion. "Prejudice is taught, not learnt. Some do, some don't, but if I'm honest, the majority of Slytherin is probably made up of half-bloods. Sacred Twenty-Eight beliefs don't reflect the common attitude."
"I see," says Lily, and then doesn't say anything else. Regulus hums and stoppers the vial with a cork, smiling to himself (Lily- as his friend, officially confirmed by the man himself- can recognise it as somewhat smug, probably stemming from having proof in a vial in his hand that he's much more efficient than Professor Slughorn, who has a potions mastery), and then he starts to clear things away.
He's so clearly comfortable in the potions room, and though Lily could say the same, it will never be in the same effortless way as him. Regulus looks like he was born for this- like he's operating wholly on instinct, and she entertains a brief moment of envy, before shutting it down. They're friends, and she's good at things he's not- her charms grades speak for themselves, really, and Regulus has (on more than one occasion) had to ask for a little bit of help when it comes to that. It had honestly shocked her at first, but she'd tried not to make it too obvious, so as not to embarrass him. It was only fair. She's not sure whether or not he noticed, in the end, but he was a little less stiff about asking her the next time.
"You like potions," she says, a little redundantly, and he- from across the room, quietly spelling the cauldron clean- tells her, "yes, I do. I would've liked to pursue it further, in an ideal world, but... what can you do?"
Lily's not stupid, just like Regulus isn't. Both of them know, really, that though they don't know Sirius that well- definitely less than they should, and that goes for the both of them, too- he's not going to last another summer at Grimmauld Place. She offers him a small smile, though he's looking down at the cauldron still, and a sympathetic noise, and instead of asking why? or worse, why don't you go with him?- instead, she asks, "what else would you do if you... you know?"
"I don't know," he says, "but I might've liked to find out, if that was a life that I got to live."
She sits there, quietly, familiar with the sentiment. She gets it- because if Petunia gave her the option to know her, after she'd turned 11, then she would've taken it, in a heartbeat. Neither of their situations are fair, in completely different ways, but she gets it, all the same, and maybe she's the only person who can. Because although Petunia and Sirius are completely different people now, once upon a time, they hadn't been.
Lily remembers being 5, scraping her ankle on the pavement falling off a kick scooter, and Petunia helping her back up the hill even though she'd insisted she didn't need it. She remembers being 8 and struggling with fractions and not understanding the notes her teacher had made her write or the book she'd found, and Petunia working through it with her for hours even though she was only 10 herself, and she didn't really get it, either. She remembers knocking over her mum's favourite vase when she was pretending to be a ballerina, performing for her sister, when she was 9, and her sister taking the blame, saying she'd insisted Lily show her.
She's not like that anymore, Lily doesn't think, but then, she wouldn't know.
Sirius- Sirius is still like that. And she tries to push down her envy again, but it doesn't work, this time, and maybe it won't ever, and Lily just has to accept that, and not let it hurt her friends. It's okay to feel like this, she knows, but, well, Regulus and Sirius are struggling through their relationship. It's absurd to be jealous of a relationship that's equally shattered, though she can see that the Black brothers both desperately want to fix it, somehow, but that- that's probably what it is. Lily doesn't think Petunia wants to know her. She probably doesn't care.
"Regulus," says Lily, not really knowing what she's about to say but knowing she has to say it, "Sirius leaving doesn't mean he isn't your brother anymore. He wants it, more than anything, I think- and you- you have to let him, okay? Because I-" and then, she stops, because she knows what's about to come next. But she and Regulus are friends, aren't they? It's- it's not oversharing if Regulus cares. And so, she continues, "because I've- my relationship with my sister is... hard. That's probably a bit of an understatement. And it's your life, and not mine, but- if you don't want to stop being brothers, then don't do that. Alright? You can't just- relationships between siblings are funny things, and I'm just repeating myself, really, but don't convince yourself that any of this means he doesn't love you."
Regulus is quiet. "I know," he says, "he's my brother, Lily. I don't know how to- be that, for him, too, not yet. But I haven't tried for years, and I think it's about time I start."
"Good," says Lily, and she can feel tears in her eyes. "Good. Don't let go of relationships like that, Regulus."
"I'm not going to," he says, not looking at her. She's not sure if it's because he's giving her privacy or if he wants it for himself, but she doesn't really mind. It suits the both of them the best for this conversation, probably- he's not like Sirius. The direct approach works, sure, but forcing it will make it worse. Regulus doesn't need to be confronted with the facts, because he knows them all too well, but he needs to be reminded of them. "Thank you, Lily."
"Sure," she says, because she doesn't have much else to say. "Sure."
"Sure," he echoes, and then, after they've been silent for a while, and he's braced his hands on a desk close to where he was brewing the potion and jumped up to sit on it, he says, "weren't we meant to be talking about you today?"
She laughs, and he looks at her, then, and cracks a smile, small and vulnerable, for maybe the first time, even though it feels like maybe he's been being secretly vulnerable the whole time by just being there with her at all. And she keeps laughing, and it's quite freeing, and eventually she tells him that yes, maybe they were, and so they talk about her, until they've missed all of lunch and are well into sixth period.
(Detention is narrowly avoided, because McGonagall accepts the excuse of studying in the library overrunning. Whether or not she actually believes it is something else entirely, but Lily won't look too closely when it's a good thing.)
-
"Prongs," says Sirius, sounding exasperated, and James looks away from where he's watching Regulus at the Slytherin table to look at his friend instead. "I love you, and all that, but can you please, like, not stare at my brother right in front of me?"
James frowns. "What happened to all those wonderful steps we made? I thought you were okay with the fact that I am deeply attracted to your younger brother."
"Fucking hell," says Remus, choking a little on his dinner. "You're making this worse for him on purpose, aren't you?"
"Maybe," he says, and looks around their group to see how everyone's holding up after this admission. Peter, first off- and he's grinning like James has done something deeply amusing, which, in James' opinion, he definitely has. Remus is still recovering from whatever he was choking on, which a quick look to his plate suggests is probably potatoes (the sick fuck doesn't like Yorkshire pudding. Who the fuck doesn't like Yorkshire pudding?), because the peas on his plate look completely untouched. James wonders why he even got them in the first place, because it's self-serve when it's dinner at Hogwarts.
Sirius looks like he's seeing god, but in a bad way, rather than any other. Like he's just died. James feels a little bit bad, but probably not bad enough.
"Sirius Black, deceased at 16," says Peter in a sad-sounding voice, "cause of death: Prongs having a crush on his brother."
"Oh, fuck off," says Sirius, slamming his head down onto the Gryffindor table and then just... leaving it there. "It's just weird! How does nobody else think this is weird?"
"I thought you gave me your blessing, mate," says James, giving him a sad look even though he definitely can't see it, and Sirius makes a disgusted noise, so James continues, "you can't just take that back because it doesn't suit you anymore. It's not fair,"
"Fuck that," is what he gets in response, "also, what are you on about with my blessing? I'm pretty sure what I said was do what you like, as long as it's just talking."
"Oh dear," says Peter, who's taking advantage of the fact that Remus has just leaned over to Sirius to pat him on the back consolingly by putting about five Yorkshires on Remus' plate right next to his mashed potatoes and drowning them in gravy, probably trying to hide them to see if he can get Remus to eat them by accident. "I mean, I don't want to assume, but look at Prongs' face, mate. They definitely did more than just talk."
James stares at Peter as Sirius' head abruptly jerks up from the table, and suddenly he's getting death-stared. Sirius observes him silently for some time, and then, under his breath, he says, "because I love you, and I am giving and wonderful, Prongs, you can have a head-start. That said, 30. 29. 28."
"Fuck," says James, wide-eyed, as Sirius hits 27. "Well, lads, it's been lovely knowing you all. I'll be seeing you in the dorms or at my funeral. If I do die, and Regulus comes to the ceremony, have it closed-casket. I want him to remember me alive and fit."
As he finishes his little speech, Sirius reaches 17, and James takes off running, aware that he gets up much too quickly to avoid drawing eyes on himself, but he's got no time to worry about that, and as he gets halfway down the hallway, he hears Sirius yell, "James Potter! I'm coming for you!"- and then he hears the sound of the bench being pushed back while Sirius himself gets up, echoing needlessly just because of Sirius' flair for the dramatics, and James is totally fucked.
Even more so when he stops in the hallway, which is a stupid move considering he's being hunted down by Sirius Fucking Black, but he's out of breath- thoroughly disappointing for a Quidditch captain hopeful for next year, but nobody needs to know- and suddenly he's being dragged somewhere by his collar.
His first thought is fuck, Sirius got me already- and then finds that the lack of yelling in his ear and the whole kidnapping thing in general is really quite uncharacteristic of his best friend, and so when eventually he's pulled into a classroom (a few floors up; he seems to remember being forced up some stairs, so this person is infinitely more committed to his abduction than Sirius would ever be) and the lights come on and it's Regulus, he just smiles, and says, "hi."
Regulus raises an eyebrow. "'Hi'? I just dragged you through the entire school. That's a bit lacklustre, isn't it? Next time I'll just walk with you."
"Oh, no," says James, grin growing as Regulus speaks, "well, I would never want that, Reg."
A roll of his eyes and Regulus pulls out a chair for James, and then sort-of-maybe pushes him into it, and James just follows, not even really thinking about it, sinking down into the chair with a single nudge to his shoulder, and then he's looking up at Regulus, whose lips curl up in something wry, and James has kissed him quite a few times by now but it doesn't change how badly he wants to right now, at all. Arguably it does the opposite, actually- because he's done it before, he knows how it feels, and oh, does that make it that much harder to resist.
"Good," says Regulus, "because it was hardly an empty threat, but I'd hate to be something boring to you, James."
Fucking hell. Hearing Regulus say his name feels exactly the same way it did the first time they spoke like- like this- in that hallway, with Crouch and Rosier being pricks and implying that Regulus was only friends with Lily so he could shag her (or maybe just snog- it was all very unclear, James thought). It feels like- like when he breathes he's doing it better, and when his heart beats it's doing it faster, and when he blinks it's happening in slow-motion so he can see as much of everything before and after his eyes close as he possibly can.
"You could never be boring," James tells him, completely earnestly, knowing in his bones that every word coming from his mouth is irrevocably and undeniably true. "I think you might be the most interesting thing to ever happen to me."
"Is that so?" Regulus is turning away, walking to sit at a chair on the other side of the classroom, like he knows what James wants and is choosing not to give it to him. And then- "your chat with my brother not so long ago seemed quite interesting."
It's an obvious change of topic that James isn't sure what to think of, but honestly, hearing Regulus call Sirius his brother out loud is such a beautiful thing- he's so fucking happy for them both- that he lets it happen. The way his mouth curls forms an expression he imagines most would call rueful, just as Regulus turns in his seat to face him, expression open and interested. James' heart leaps in his chest, knowing that Regulus Bloody Black is at least a little bit interested in him- er, no, in what he has to say. That'll be it. Yeah.
"It all started on Friday, the 8th of-"
"James."
"Right. Yeah. To cut a long story short- a story I would've told wonderfully, by the way, you're completely missing out, but the offer's still open-"
"There's something seriously wrong with you. You know that?"
James looks at Regulus and finds him smiling, and loves that the back-and-forth is so effortless. James moves quickly, and he knows that, but all the same, this is great- this, whatever this is, and he doesn't mind all that much right now that he's not quite sure what it is, because at least it has him and Regulus in it.
"It might've been suggested to me once or twice, Reg, yeah," he laughs, and Regulus just shakes his head, although the corners of his eyes have shrunk a little, which James takes as a win, because it tells him exactly how real everything that's written all over Regulus' face is. "Anyway- basically, Sirius didn't know we were. You know."
"Snogging?"
"Well, you could say it a little more romantically! I've been thinking of these meetings as clandestine rendezvous, you could at least pretend to echo the sentiment." He huffs and folds his arms, and Regulus rolls his arms, flips the chair he's on back-to-front and leans over the back of it, looking at James as he does so.
"You're so right," he says, voice low and words coming slowly, "this is illicit, isn't it James? Secretive, the way you like it? Like only you get to have me, but you don't, do you, because you'd prefer to keep all this to yourself. That right? You like the idea of me being all yours," and he says the words deliberately, enunciating them all carefully, face breaking open as he does, even more so when he notices James gulp. "Yeah, I thought that. But more than that, you want to pretend nobody knows. You like that nobody does- that they all get to see me in the day, and laugh, and spend time with me, and then I come here, and it's only ever you that I think about. That's what this is, isn't it, James? You see me like nobody else gets to."
James doesn't think he had a single coherent thought while Regulus was talking. The way that his mouth had moved to form the words was bad enough, but the words themselves-? No, James would be a strong man if he'd been able to focus on anything but Regulus through that whole speech, and if there's one thing that he's learnt from spending time with Regulus, it's that he's nothing of the sort.
The air feels thick and heavy and Regulus is up from his chair, walking over to James and watching him all the while, and then he sits down on the desk in front of James, and James doesn't think he's breathing.
"Hi," he says, stupidly, like earlier, not really able to focus on anything but Regulus and his mouth- definitely not on sentences.
"Hi," says Regulus, still speaking in that measured cadence that has James feeling like he's on fire, "do you want to kiss me, James?"
James has never wanted anything more in his life, and he leans forward, trying to get the message across, but Regulus stops him with a gentle finger to his lips. "I want you to say it," he says, and James kisses his index finger gently and leans back a little, and he tells Regulus, "I want to kiss you, please kiss me," and Regulus leans forward- slides forward, in fact- falls off the desk, and into James' lap. And then they're kissing, and James isn't really thinking.
James likes Regulus so much. And it's for everything about him- the way that he smiles, and the way he talks about his interests, and the way he listens to James'. The way that he talks to his friends, so casually and freely, and the way that the way he acts with everyone else is a front, because he's so much more than just a future heir (well, nobody knows anything about that right now, but still), if only they'd care to look for it. The way that he's a total arsehole, but also, he's nothing of the sort.
But, well- he'd be remiss if he failed to mention the fact that Regulus is an excellent kisser. Absently, James thinks that that's not the kind of thing you're meant to know before you ask your crush out- certainly not from personal experience- but, well, if this is how it is, James has absolutely no complaints.
Regulus seems to like kissing James, because whenever James pulls back to take some air in, Regulus follows him, trying to do it a little more. James can't complain about that, either, and he'd be lying if he ever said that he didn't immediately give in, and decide that suffocation was completely and utterly worth it, if it was for Regulus. Anything would be, probably, but James is probably in a little too deep a little too quickly and so that's a secret, for now.
Eventually, James' tie is off, and his shirt is unbuttoned so that it's leaning off his shoulder again, like that first time, in the astronomy tower, and wow, is James mourning a loved one, or something? Why is he doing so much fucking reminiscing about times he's had with Regulus, when Regulus' mouth is pressing gentle kisses into his shoulder and along his collarbone? In what world could thinking about past Regulus ever be more important than experiencing present Regulus?
"What did Sirius even think we were doing, anyway?" Asks Regulus, snickering a little, leaning back from James, kissing his neck once more at his pulse point and then just slumping into him. Automatically, James' arms come up to wrap around him, and he can't stop thinking about the feeling of Regulus' delicate little curls as they brush against the exposed area of his shoulder. It's a little ticklish, and it's glorious, because not everything with Regulus is going to be from a movie, where it's all-in, and he likes that it's not a perfect feeling. That he wants to lean away from it, a little, instinctually.
"What do you mean?"
"Hm," says Regulus, and turns his head, leaning against James' chest, so that he can look up at him. His chin sort of digs in, but James doesn't say a word. "As in, did he think we just sat here holding hands, or something?"
James laughs, and Regulus' head falls back down to where it was before, and James sees his shoulders shaking a little- they're laughing together. Merlin, isn't that wonderful? Isn't that beautiful?
"Talking," he says, "I'm, like, ninety percent sure he thought we were only talking."
"Jesus," says Regulus, and James doesn't recognise the phrase, except from when Lily says it, and he tries to be normal and calm. Regulus can do what he likes with whoever he likes; it's absolutely whatever he wants- it's just also that, you know. James wants Regulus to want him. And- and it seems like he does, but it's just- it's not all the time, is it? If he's spending enough time with Lily, still, to be picking up muggle phrases.
Selfishly, James wants Regulus to be learning things from him, too. To be gaining little tiny habits he won't even notice until somebody points them out, and then he'll smile and realise just how much influence other people have on his life, and it will make his chest feel a little bit warm and a little bit tight, because he'll realise that he's got people around him that he loves.
And so, without thinking, he says, "Lily told me a while ago that you guys aren't dating." And then immediately regrets the words as they come from his mouth, but he feels Regulus' shoulders still, no longer laughing at the thought of Sirius' being so unassuming, and he recognises that the words are sitting in the air, heavy.
"Yeah," says Regulus, "we aren't. She didn't want to."
"Oh," says James, "did you?"
"No," Regulus says, and James is extremely aware of the way that Regulus' hands come up to sit on his shoulders as he pushes back a little, leaning into the desk and away from James, like he's searching his face for answers. James doesn't know if they're written there. "Why are you asking me this?"
James takes a deep breath in. On Regulus' face is only confusion, not anything like hatred, or dislike, or even discomfort, and so James says, "if I asked you if we were dating, what would you say?"
Regulus' eyes go wide. He doesn't bother schooling his expression properly, and his voice comes out a little bit breathy, but he's otherwise got most of his usual composure when he says, "the same thing I said to Lily- do you want us to be?"
And James- well, the answer is so obvious. So, so obvious. He doesn't know why he waited so long to ask, because even if Regulus doesn't want that, himself, it's better to have it out there. It's a cliff's edge that James would walk off, knowing it was there, without knowing if there was a pool of water underneath to catch him, and he knows that because he's doing it.
"Yeah, I do. Do you- do you want that, too?"
Regulus stares at him for a moment, expression completely shuttered. Fully blank. James feels anxiety rise up in his throat, and then Regulus breaks out into a smile, and he says, "really?"
James isn't quite sure what's happening, because he doesn't really want to entertain hope, but he always has been the type, and he picks up Regulus' face in his hands and leans in to brush their noses against each other, and he says, "really, Reg."
A strong breath out washes over James' face, and it smells like mint. He shuts his eyes at the sensation, but opens them when Regulus pushes his hands off his face, to put his own on James'- and then he says, "yeah, I think I'd like that, James."
"You would?" James can hear the delight in his own voice, but he knew it was there, because it was him who decided it would be. Regulus is smiling so widely that James feels like he could probably fly, because he just looks so fucking happy, and he leans in to press their foreheads together, and James' eyes flutter shut with the delicate contact. With the way that Regulus is so careful with him.
"I would, James," he says, quietly, a whisper. Only for the two of them. "I would like that a lot."