Work Text:
Although not a wild partygoer, Regulus would never say he hated parties. As a matter of fact, he actually quite likes them. But when James Potter had begged him to tag along to this one—even saying he could bring Barty and Evan—something had twisted in his chest. He doesn’t need to come and watch James flirt with Lily Evans for the whole night, but the thing is, he could never say no to James. Never. Especially after he’d opened up his doors to Sirius and him over the break just gone.
That’s why he finds himself sat in the very corner of the room, staring at the still-full cup of alcohol that Barty had brought him earlier in the night.
“REG!” he hears someone yell over the music. Glancing towards its source, he sees Evan sat alongside Barty, waving him across. Sighing, he makes his way towards the two. Once he’s stood before them, he realises there’s no way he’s fitting on that couch unless Barty moves across.
“Move over, you wanker,” Evan laughs. Barty’s gaze flickers down to Evan’s thighs, then back to Regulus, before shifting over. Oh, Regulus recognises that look in Barty’s eyes.
“Want a drink?” Barty asks suddenly as he takes a seat, holding a cup of dark liquid out to Regulus in offering. Fuck, he could definitely do with something. Before he can accept though, Evan is reaching over to snatch the drink into his own hands.
“Nuh uh. Yours and mine only, mate,” he says to Barty. “Get your own, Reg.”
Regulus decides he’s not involved in whatever gay shenanigans these two are up too.
Evan tries to indulge in a bit more conversation, but he talks him down, leaning back against the back of the couch, closing his eyes as if he can just imagine himself elsewhere. He doesn’t know how much later, but he’s raised from his stupor by someone jostling his arm. Not Barty—this is coming from his right.
He opens his eyes to see none other than James Fleamont Potter clumsily balancing upon the arm of the couch next to Regulus. Even the lack of space on the couch can’t stop this boy.
“Sirius!” James beams.
“I’m not Sirius,” Regulus says, trying to wriggle away, only to bump into Barty. As he turns his head to apologise, he is met with the sight of the boy’s head pressed into the curve of Evan’s throat, sucking obscenely at his neck. His two best friends making out on his left, and the most heterosexual boy to exist that he’s also been in love with since second year on his right—not to mention he’s completely wasted and thinks that Regulus is his brother. Just his luck. He turns back to James quickly, who appears entirely unfazed. “I’m not Sirius,” he repeats.
“Very funny, Pads,” James says, rolling his eyes dramatically.
The boy goes on to rant about ten different things in the space of five minutes. Regulus acknowledges him by saying “Uh huh” and “Woah, really?” every once and a while. And then before he knows it, the conversation is shifting onto the most ironic topic of them all:
“Pads, I’ve this awful dilemma, because I am so fucking in love with somebody, and they definitely hate me.”
“You mean Evans,” Regulus says slowly, because who else? The entire school knows about James Potter’s—probably slightly unhealthy—obsession with Lily Evans.
But to his surprise, James screws up his face, shaking his head.
“Evans?” he says incredulously, taking another swig of alcohol from the cup in his hand. “Got over her quite some time ago, Pads; keep up, would you?”
“Oh. Right,” Regulus says, because duh. “So, who’s the lucky girl this time then?”
“Boy,” James corrects. “And I dunno if I’d say lucky is the right word, because to be on the receiving end of my affections, Merlin, it’s like—”
“Boy?” Regulus blurts out before he can stop himself.
“You don’t need to pretend to act all homophobic, mate,” James complains. “I hear you and Remus shagging every night.”
“What?” Regulus has to remind himself that ‘you’ means Sirius, not him. Then once he remembers that, he says, “What?” again.
“Merlin, you must be fucking wasted,” James mutters.
Oh, right, because Regulus is the drunk one.
This is a conversation for another time. Regulus supposes Sirius has no obligation to tell his younger brother anything about this, but if he really has to hear about his brother’s dating life, he’d rather it be from his mouth first than anyone else’s.
“Okay, okay, who’s the lucky—or unlucky—boy then?” Regulus asks him, trying to steer the conversation away from Sirius, even though he knows whatever answer James brings is going to fucking shatter him.
James sighs despondently. “I couldn’t,” he whines. “You’ll fucking hate me.”
“I could never hate you, James,” Regulus says, and he isn’t pretending to be Sirius here—it’s true.
“Alrighttt,” James drags out, pouting. “Don’t hex me, though.”
Regulus waits.
“It’s your brother.”
Regulus once again has to remind himself that James thinks he’s talking to Sirius here.
“I— What?” he demands.
“You said you wouldn’t get mad!” James complains.
“I’m not mad!” Regulus protests. There are way too many things flying through his head at the moment. “You mean Regulus?” he asks, because maybe there’s a third Black brother that Sirius secretly mentioned to James—that’d certainly clear things up.
“Who else?” James grumbles. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie, Pads, it felt kinda illegal at first. Because I was all like, ‘Shit, this is my best mate’s little brother!’ But then I was like, ‘There’s like, a year difference between us. That’s not so bad.’”
Regulus shakes his head in confusion. “I— Wait, for how long? Remind me when you got over Evans?”
“Funny that, I think I liked Regulus at the same time as Lily. Or like, I was so certain that I was going to marry Lily that I never noticed I was over her and that I liked Regulus at all. But probably like, third year,” James says thoughtfully, brow all creased in concentration as if this very conversation is working his three brain cells to full capacity. “When Reg used to call you names in the hallway, and I was like, ‘Merlin, that’s fucking hot’.”
Regulus chokes on his own saliva and starts coughing up a lung. At that moment, James spies someone from across the room.
“Oh, there’s Sirius!” he exclaims. Regulus follows his line of vision to see his brother across the room, laughing at something Lupin is saying. And… is that Dorcas talking to Marlene McKinnon? Merlin, Regulus doesn’t even want to know at this point. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing that’s happened this evening. “Bye, Sirius,” James says solemnly, thrusting his drink into Regulus’ hands.
He disappears before Regulus can get a word in between his coughing fit, and he watches as James wanders off towards the real Sirius, before getting distracted and veering off in a completely random direction.
“Did you two hear any of that?” he demands, turning towards Evan and Barty, only to see that they’ve both disappeared, with the only trace of their presence being a now empty cup laying on the floor.
James wakes up half hanging out of his bed. His back hurts like shit from that sleeping position, but his hangover is definitely worse. He cracks an eyelid open and instantly regrets it.
“Oh, bloody hell,” he swears, running a hand down his face, squeezing his eyes shut.
“He awakens,” he hears Sirius drawl from across the room.
“You’re sounding way too fucking perky, mate,” James groans. “Where’s your killer hangover?”
“Didn’t drink last night,” Sirius hums smugly. “Me and Moony just had a nice, long, sober evening together, watching everyone make total arses of themselves.”
James just groans, trying to recall the events of last night. He has a very distant memory of telling somebody that he liked Regulus.
“Fuck, how much did I tell you last night?” he asks, sitting up finally.
Sirius quirks an eyebrow. “Me? Hell, you didn’t bat an eyelid at me the entire time. You certainly had a nice drawn-out conversation with my darling brother, though.”
The pieces are beginning to fall into place.
“Oh, fuck.”
At breakfast the next day, he spies Regulus sitting at the Slytherin table, chin resting lazily in his palm. Well, somebody has to break the ice.
Regulus catches sight of him before he’s fully approached, which means James has to awkwardly stare until he’s close enough to actually speak to him. Regulus raises an eyebrow inquisitively at James, who can only smile awkwardly.
“Hello there,” Regulus calls when James is within speaking distance. Evan and Barty busy themselves with their breakfast.
“Uh, hi,” James says casually. Very casually. Yep.
Regulus nods expectantly, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of toast. “I’m waiting,” he says after a while.
Right. James swallows nervously.
“I like you,” he blurts out.
Regulus raises an eyebrow in that aristocratic way that all Blacks do. “I wasn’t aware,” he drawls out, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Right.” James swallows nervously. “So, um, sorry about that party. I, uh—”
“You’re lucky I like you too,” Regulus interrupts.
James stops dead in his tracks.
“What?”
Regulus takes another bite of his toast. “Don’t kiss me right now, please. I’m really not a fan of public affection."
James shakes his head, dazed. Maybe he’s still drunk.
“Yeah. Okay. Sure.” He takes a step backwards. Then he says, “Wanna go to Hogsmeade together sometimes?”
“I’d say we’re beyond the first date point, James, but sure.”
James feels a grin split across his face. “Great!”
He thinks he sees Barty and Evan exchanging sickles beneath the tables, but he doesn’t really care at this point, because all he can think is, I’ve got a date with Regulus Black.