Chapter Text
July 11th, 2025
Regulus didn't feel remorse for what he did to his own father. Not really. It was justified. Who kills his wife and gets away with it? Certainly not Orion. Regulus had made sure of that.
But now, he'd woken in a cold sweat. He was panting. His eyes were wide open, he was sat up, but he couldn't see his environment. No, instead he saw the flames. He smelt the gasoline. He felt his fingers clicking buttons, turning the heated blanket to its highest setting. It'd become a fire hazard years ago. He remembers smothering the bottom of the mattress in gasoline. He remembers putting the blanket under the mattress. Putting the mattress back down over it. Making the bed like nothing happened.
He remembers waving goodbye to his father, for the last time. He remembers seeing the fire on the news the next day. Seeing the title.
Orion Black, found dead in his own home.
The police never found out. ‘It was a terrible accident’, they'd said, when they showed up at Regulus' door to deliver the death notification. ‘We’re so sorry for your loss.’ Regulus revelled in it. He'd gotten away with it. He'd felt euphoric, at the time. He usually did, when he remembered it. He remembered how quiet everything had been. How ordinary the street looked. As though the world hadn't just changed. As though he hadn't just crossed a line he could never uncross. He remembered getting halfway down the road before stopping. He'd expected to feel relieved. He didn't. He'd expected to cry. He didn't. He'd expected something. Anything.
Instead, there had only been emptiness. And underneath it, one thought.
He can't hurt anyone anymore.
Regulus opened his eyes. Outside, the vines moved gently against the glass in the cold wind.
For a moment, he could almost see that other window. The one from his childhood bedroom. The one he'd looked through after leaving. The one he'd never looked through again. Regulus sat up.
He pressed both hands against his face and breathed slowly. It had been years. Years. And somehow, all it took was one bad dream to make him sixteen again. He lowered his hands. He wasn't sorry. He wasn't sure if that made him a monster. Maybe it did. Maybe there were some things a person couldn't do and still consider themselves good.
But when Regulus remembered his mother, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Orion had killed Walburga. Regulus couldn't let him get away with that. Besides, Orion was always saying how Regulus should be more like him.
Fire.
He had promised himself he wouldn't think about it. Not here. Not tonight. Not in this room. He leaned over and threw the curtains open. Orange light filled the room. It was morning. For a few seconds, Regulus simply sat there. He took a breath. Then another. He sat there, trying to convince himself that the past couldn't follow him here.nHe managed to force the thoughts down. They lingered, making a vile, bitter taste in his mouth. He wouldn't let this ruin his first day here, he couldn't let it.
He reached onto the nightstand, grabbing his earphones and putting them in, opening his phone and turning on his music, glancing at the time. It was 5 am. James was probably awake.
Regulus forced himself up and walked down the stairs, avoiding the ones he’d already learnt made noise.
He was wrong about James being awake. Not that he cared for James specifically, he’d just hoped he could exist in the same space as another human after waking up from that. He made his way through the kitchen easily, he liked how uncluttered it was. Thanks to Remus alone, Regulus assumed.
#James POV#
Usually, James would wake up and go downstairs only to find that nobody else was awake. The house would be quiet in that particular way it always was in the mornings, the sort of silence that made every creak of the floorboards sound louder than it actually was. He was used to being the first one up, stumbling down the stairs with his hair sticking out in every direction and barely awake enough to remember where the kitchen was.
For the first time, that wasn’t the case.
James stopped halfway down the stairs when he noticed someone in the kitchen. Regulus.
He stood at the bottom step, just slightly out of Regulus’ line of sight, and watched him for a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure why. He could have announced himself. He could have walked into the kitchen like a normal person, said good morning, and gone about his usual routine. Instead, he stayed where he was.
Regulus was making a drink, probably hot chocolate. James could see the steam curling lazily from the mug as Regulus stirred it, his movements slow and unhurried. He was wearing a green hoodie that looked far too big for him, the sleeves bunching around his hands and the hem hanging all the way down to the middle of his thighs. Beneath it, he wore a pair of shorts that James only noticed because the hoodie shifted whenever he moved.
Regulus seemed comfortable.
Not just comfortable in the clothes, but comfortable in the kitchen, in the house, in the quiet morning air. It was almost strange to see. He had only just moved in, and yet he moved around the kitchen as though he already knew where everything was. Like he belonged there.
He had expected Regulus to be awkward at first. Maybe distant, maybe irritated at having to live with them. Instead, he seemed to have slipped into the space without much effort, filling the empty corners of the house with his presence without even trying.
James could hear him humming.
It was quiet at first, barely more than a sound beneath his breath as he stirred his drink. James almost thought he was imagining it. Then the humming became a little clearer, the tune becoming something recognisable, and eventually Regulus began to sing.
Just enough for James to hear. James didn't move. He held his breath.
Regulus’ voice was gorgeous. There was no other word for it.
It felt like someone had seeped drugs into his vocal cords and voice box, leaving every note impossibly smooth and addictive. James didn't know the song, or maybe he did and simply couldn't remember it anymore. He was too focused on the sound of Regulus singing it.
It was softer than James had expected.
Everything about Regulus seemed sharp most of the time. His words, his expressions, the way he looked at people when they annoyed him. But his voice wasn't sharp at all, it was warm.
James leaned against the wall, still hidden from sight, and listened.
“Meaningless words went straight to your head”
Regulus was gorgeous. His voice, his skin.
“Hold onto your pride and I’ll hold my breath”
The way he hummed in between lyrics.
“Go beat that horse till its long past dead”
His gorgeous grey eyes.
“I’ll pack my bags and I’ll figure something out”
Everything about him. He was so ethereal. James knew the Blacks were attractive, there was Sirius to prove it. But regulus was definitely something else.
James finally stepped into Regulus’ line of sight, clearing his throat softly. Regulus startled, turning around so quickly that he nearly knocked his mug over. For a second, he just stared at James, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and embarrassment. He was pale enough that the flush spreading across his face was immediately noticeable.
“Good morning,” Regulus muttered.
James smiled.
“You have a lovely singing voice.”
Regulus went completely still. His fingers tightened around the mug, and for a moment James wondered if he had said something wrong. Regulus looked like he was trying to decide whether to be offended, embarrassed, or simply walk away.
“Why were you watching me?”
James shrugged, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.
“Couldn’t really avoid it.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
There was something almost defensive in Regulus’ expression now, like he was bracing himself for James to make a joke. It was probably what James would normally do. Tease him. Make some stupid comment about catching him singing in the kitchen before breakfast.
“I wasn’t trying to spy on you,” he said eventually. “I just heard you.”
“That sounds suspiciously like something someone trying to spy on me would say, and I wouldn’t put it past you.”
James laughed under his breath.
Regulus took a small sip from his mug, refusing to look at him. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable exactly. It was just different from the silence James was used to sharing with Regulus. Usually, Regulus seemed perfectly capable of making silence feel like a warning.
Now, though, he looked almost shy. James didn't think he'd ever seen him like that before. He leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Regulus over the edge of his own smile.
“You should sing more often.”
Regulus had never responded to James as quickly as he did when James suggested that. “No.”
“But your voice is so pretty.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, but there was the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
James noticed. Of course he noticed, Regulus was so pretty.
It was barely there, the smallest movement at the corner of Regulus’ mouth, but James had spent enough time around him by now to know that any sign of amusement was significant. He wondered if Regulus realised how expressive he actually was when he wasn't trying to be.
“Was that a smile?” James asked.
Regulus' expression immediately flattened, back to the glare he always gave James.
“No.”
James snorted.
“It definitely was.”
“You're imagining things.”
“I have excellent eyesight.”
“You wear glasses.”
“Correct. My eyesight is excellent when I wear glasses, and currently, i am wearing glasses.”
Regulus stared at him for a second before shaking his head.
“You're ridiculous.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn't a compliment.”
“I'm choosing to take it as one.”
Regulus sighed and turned back towards the counter, apparently deciding that James wasn't worth the effort of arguing with. He picked up the spoon he'd left beside the mug and stirred his drink again. James watched him for a moment.
There was something different about seeing Regulus like this. He was usually so composed, so carefully put together. Even when he was annoyed, there was always something deliberate about him. Every expression seemed controlled, every word considered before it left his mouth.
His hair was slightly tousled from sleep, falling across his forehead in a way James had never seen at school. The oversized hoodie made him look smaller than usual, and the sleeves were pulled over his hands as he held onto the mug.
“You always wake up this early?” James asked.
Regulus shrugged.
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know. I just do.”
“That's boring.”
Regulus glanced over his shoulder.
“You're welcome to go back upstairs.”
James smiled.
“Don't think I will.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow. James wasn't entirely sure why he said it. He could have gone back upstairs. He could have made himself breakfast and left Regulus alone. That would probably have been the normal thing to do. Instead, he walked further into the kitchen and pulled out one of the chairs.
Regulus watched him sit. He stared at him for another moment before turning back to the counter.
James didn’t know why he was so drawn to Regulus, now of all times. Maybe it was the fact that Regulus seemed less guarded when he thought nobody was watching. Maybe it was because James had never heard him sing before and now couldn't stop thinking about it.
Regulus moved around the kitchen again, opening cupboards and putting things away. James watched without meaning to, his attention following every small movement.
He drummed his fingers against the table, trying to think of something else to focus on. The clock on the wall, the faint hum of the fridge, the sunlight beginning to creep through the kitchen window.
Anything other than Regulus, his eyes, his skin, his voice, his hair.
It didn't work, not really.
“So,” James said eventually, “what were you singing?”
Regulus paused.
“I don't remember.”
“You don't remember what you were singing?”
“No.”
“You just started singing a random song?”
“I wasn't exactly expecting an audience.”
“Clearly.”
There was a brief silence.
“DNA guarantee.”
“What?”
“That's the song. The one I was singing.”
“Oh, so you do remember?”
“You’re so annoying.”
James liked this. He liked talking to Regulus, without the genuine venom he used to have in his voice when they were teens. He liked watching Regulus move around the room. He liked that his mornings wouldn't be quiet and alone anymore. Regulus moved past him to put his mug in the sink, and James shifted his chair slightly to let him through.
“Do you want breakfast?” Regulus asked.
James looked up.
“You're offering to make me breakfast?”
“I asked if you wanted it, I didn’t say id make it”
“Why ask if you’re not offering?”
“Answer the fucking question.”
James smiled.
“My apologies, your majesty. Yes, i do”
Regulus sighed, but opened the fridge anyway.
James watched him look through it, eventually pulling out a carton of eggs.
“You know,” James said, “for someone who apparently doesn't like me, you're very nice to me.”
Regulus looked over his shoulder.
“I never said I didn't like you. I said you’re annoying.”
James went quiet. It was such a simple sentence.
Regulus didn't seem to realise he'd said anything particularly significant. He simply turned back to the fridge, taking out a few more things as though the conversation had never happened. James, however, couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. You never said you didn't like me.
The morning light had reached the kitchen now, spilling across the floor and catching on the edges of Regulus' hair. The house no longer felt as empty as it usually did at this hour. James wasn't sure when he'd stopped thinking of Regulus as someone who had just moved in. Somehow, without him noticing, Regulus had already started to feel like he belonged there.
He rested his chin against his palm, watching Regulus crack an egg into the frying pan. There was something almost absurdly normal about the scene.
James had spent years knowing Regulus Black as Sirius' younger brother. At school, he was always surrounded by people, always perfectly dressed, always carrying himself like he had somewhere more important to be. James had never really stopped to consider what he was like when nobody was watching.
Apparently, he made hot chocolate in oversized hoodies and sang quietly to himself while making breakfast. James liked that version of him. He wasn't sure why. The pan hissed as Regulus pushed the eggs around with a wooden spoon.
Neither of them spoke for a while. Outside, the world was slowly waking up. Cars passed somewhere beyond the house, birds made irritatingly loud noises in the garden, and sunlight continued to crawl across the kitchen floor.
He hadn't expected to like having Regulus at the house. He expected to hate it. He'd expected Sirius to be annoyed. He'd expected Regulus to be cold. He'd expected the house to feel different in an uncomfortable way. Instead, sitting across from him at five in the morning, James felt strangely content.
“You're quiet,” Regulus said.
James smiled.
“I'm thinking.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Hey!”
“Do you always sing when you're alone?”
Regulus nearly choked on his drink and James got to laugh at him.
“You're never letting that go, are you?”
“Absolutely not.” James paused. “You should sing again.”
“No.”
“Come on.”
“No.”
For the rest of breakfast, they talked about nothing particularly important. Regulus stopped really talking much, as if he'd run out of words for the morning. He just sat and listened.
James told Regulus about Sirius' habit of stealing food and pretending he hadn't. Regulus, albeit really quietly, retaliated with stories from childhood that James wasn't sure Sirius would appreciate being repeated.
Regulus collected the plates, and James stood to help almost immediately.
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you?”
“Because I want to.”
“Whatever.”