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Regulus
Regulus Black knew restraint.
It had taken years to learn. Years of straightening his spine until the bones locked; rolling his shoulders back to hide a flinch; setting his jaw so that he didn't scream like the storm waging inside of him begged to.
But, though it had taken so long to perfect, the method itself was quite simple.
A polished, oakwood coffin, latched with rusted gold and sealed airtight in his head with every thought he'd rather not think—every action he wished he could take. And when his nails bit into his palms, and his tongue turned leaden in his mouth, he locked the coffin tighter.
That was why, upon finding James Potter pacing outside of his dorm room, Regulus didn't react.
No. Instead, he just walked straight past, clicking the door shut behind him and listening to Potter's dumbfounded yelp through the wood.
"Regulus," he called, knocking gently.
Pressing his lips together, Regulus didn't turn back to the door.
His room was empty—Barty and Evan had probably gone off to find some dark corner to make out in—and the chill of the October evening seeped through the draughty windows. The curtains had been pulled shut, casting flickering shadows over the green walls.
"C'mon, mate," James continued, still muffled through the door. "I just wanted your help with something."
Against his better judgement, Regulus peered over his shoulder. But still, he didn't open the door.
James Potter was trouble. Regulus had seen him with Sirius—everyone had. The marauders were infamous. That little, tight-knit group that had taught Regulus more about the word family than Grimmauld Place ever had.
Even just the thought of it made him writhingly, nauseatingly jealous.
But more than the marauders, James and Sirius were inseparable. The two were joined at the hip, like each other's portable life support. Whenever one was near, the other was often close behind. They were best friends.
Brothers, Regulus thought bitterly.
"It's his birthday."
Regulus froze. Ice simmered beneath his bones, a constant cold that he'd never been able to shake, and he ground his teeth together, fighting against the twisting of his stomach.
It had been three months since Sirius had run away from Grimmauld Place—three months since he'd been disowned, and Regulus had lost his only brother. His anchor; his only warmth in a house festering with rot. Sirius had moved in with James, replacing his real brother for the one that he preferred.
With that sour reminder on his tongue, Regulus strode away from the door.
As though he could sense the decision that'd been made on the other side, James sighed, and the sound had Regulus wrapping his own arms around himself, lifting his chin and blinking back the sting in his eyes.
But, as it turned out, James Potter did not give up that easily.
The Great Hall thundered with noise. All four tables were fully seated for breakfast, and Regulus walked in well after the meal was already underway. Barty and Evan were sat in their normal seats, and Regulus kept his head down as he headed straight for them, ignoring the eyes he could feel burning into his side.
"Potter still stalking you?" Barty asked through a mouthful of waffle and syrup.
Daring a glance over the crowds of bustling students, Regulus stilled as he made immediate eye contact with James. Hazel eyes bore into his, one eyebrow raised like a challenge.
Heat threatening to rise in his cheeks, Regulus tore his gaze away.
"He'll get bored soon."
Evan leant back, stretching out like a cat. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. Have you ever seen him in a quidditch match? That boy is nothing if not dedicated."
Resisting the urge to drag his hands down his face—imagining his mother's voice scolding him for the unseemly behaviour—he shook his head. "That's not reassuring, Evan."
"I'm just saying, you might have to let him talk for a bit. That's all."
Regulus' heart beat a little quicker at that.
Across the tables, James was still watching him, and Regulus noticed Sirius shooting inquisitive glances in his direction. But even that wasn't enough to get Potter to look away, and Regulus' guts rolled at the realisation that Evan might be right.
But he couldn't just talk to James Potter.
James Potter was everything that Regulus hated. He was too loud, too energetic, too outspoken. He was a bundle of energy and optimism, and Regulus hated it.
It made him feel... weird. It made his skin itch, and the nerves in his legs buzz, and it took all of his restraint not to give in and walk wherever they led.
"Merlin's beard," Evan interrupted, peering over his shoulder. "He's coming over."
Regulus' head snapped up, his neatly cut black hair brushing his ears—a stark contrast to the mess of hair upon Potter's own head, spiking up in every feasible direction.
Intensity burnt in his eyes, a crease between his brows as he strode over to the Slytherin table. The rest of the Marauders were nowhere to be seen, but a few of the students on the Gryffindor table had lifted their heads to watch their resident Golden Boy head over to the dark side.
"Can I talk to you?" James' shoulders were set, gaze unblinking as he held Regulus'.
It had been a tricky task to avoid James for as long as he had. The encounter outside of his dorm room had been a week ago now, and Regulus had spent every waking minute since dodging the boy in front of him. Along with a scope of other methods, this had included stealing food from the kitchen when everyone else was asleep, and sending Barty and Evan ahead of him to make sure the path was clear.
But it had all been for nothing, because here James was, unyielding as ever. And so, finally, Regulus pressed his lips together and nodded.
Let him talk for a bit. That's all.
Biting back a sigh, Regulus clung to those words, standing up from the table and following James down into a narrow side-hall.
"What do you want?" He bit out, eager to get the first word in.
James didn't falter, only slinging his arms across his chest and smiling crookedly. Brown hair fell across his glasses as he tilted his head, rendering Regulus speechless with that infuriating, boyish charm.
"So," he begun, voice brimming with excitement. "Sirius' birthday is next week. It's his seventeenth, so I want it to be good, you know? And he's had such a tough year and all—"
He stopped abruptly, clearing his throat. Regulus had tensed at the words, acid bristling under his tongue.
It's been a tough year for me too, he wanted to scream. I lost my big brother too.
"But anyway," James continued, carefully. He was a bit more reserved this time, watching Regulus like he was afraid he'd bolt. "I was hoping you could help me make it. You are his brother. You know him just as well as, if not better, than I do."
And Regulus wanted to laugh. His shoulders shook with it—the ugly, bitter sound that rose in his throat.
Because it was so obviously a lie. Sirius may have been his brother, but sometimes, he felt like no more than a stranger. They hadn't looked each other in the eye in over a year. The only memories they shared were spilling with tears and blood and sacrifice. Sirius, taking the punishment for Regulus like he always did.
So no. Regulus did not know Sirius better than James did. He hardly knew him at all.
"I'm not his brother anymore," he spat. "He saw to that."
James shook his head, blinking rapidly and opening his mouth to protest. The silence in the hallway became suffocating as he tried and failed to find some argument—but it was the truth.
Shadows spilt from every nearby corner, and it was an effort in restraint that kept Regulus' chin up. That kept his spine straight and his hands still at his sides, heels dug into the cold marble floor.
"Sirius is not my brother. Don't try and involve me in this again."
James
Wind rushed against his face, whipping against his skin in lacerations strong enough to draw blood. He'd only been flying for half an hour, but his hands were already numb with the grip on his broom. He couldn't feel his feet anymore, and despite the months they still had 'til winter, James could feel the first pinpricks of snow in the air.
Don't try and involve me in this again.
James had turned the words of that conversation over in his head a million times. Enough that Sirius had noticed his uncharacteristic brooding and now, like a dog to a bone, wouldn't leave him alone.
Coming to a stop in the air, James sighed, tipping his head up to the sky with a sigh. Whenever he needed to clear his mind, this was where he came. From up here, he could see the entirety of Hogwarts, spread out like an omen, peering perilously over the cliff edge.
It was late enough that night had begun to descend, and the lights of the castle stood out like stars against the shadows. James took a deep breath, watching it fog when he released it again.
Sirius is not my brother. Don't try and involve me in this again.
His tone had been cold. Grey eyes—so similar to Sirius' and yet so different—had glinted like a silver knife catching moonlight, and James had been rooted to the spot, fixated on the brewing storm that was Regulus Black.
He was beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful.
Red-cheeked and stewing in guilt, James directed his broom back down to the ground.
James Potter had been in love with Regulus Black since the first time he'd seen him. In second year, before he'd even realised he liked boys, those silver eyes had caught his and he'd been a goner. Twelve years old, and utterly infatuated.
Of course, he hadn't truly realised the nature of his feelings until fifth year, and had immediately sworn to himself that he'd never act on it. Sirius would slaughter him and leave his corpse to the crows to finish if he ever caught wind of James' feelings, and he suspected Regulus would do a lot worse.
But James hadn't been raised selfish, and so he'd put those feelings aside in honour of Sirius' seventeenth birthday.
He still remembered every moment from that night in the summer. Sirius, at his doorstep in the middle of the night. He'd had only a half-empty drawstring bag at his side, and he'd been soaked through with rain from the storm wreaking havoc up ahead. Red-rimmed eyes and wobbling lips pressed tightly together, with nowhere and no one else to go to but James.
Of course, James' family had taken him in in an instant.
It had been a few months since the estrangement, but Sirius hadn't gotten any better. Even Remus hadn't been able to drag him out of the funk he'd been in—snapping at every turn, brooding and sulking whenever anybody mentioned family, and coming close to murder whenever he caught sight of Regulus in the halls.
Sirius missed his brother. Anybody with a brain could see that.
And so James had made it his mission to reunite the two of them. They were both struggling with the loss of the other, and he was determined to fix it in time for Sirius' seventeenth birthday. The excuse of Regulus knowing Sirius better than him had been just that: a flimsy excuse. And Regulus had seen through it instantly.
Cursing to himself at the memory, James shook his head, setting his feet to the ground and picking his broom up from where it hovered.
He'd been planning on coming up with a far better excuse. But then Regulus had been there, so close, those roiling eyes utterly focused on him, and suddenly James had lost control of his own tongue.
No matter, James thought, running a hand through his unruly hair. I'll just have to come up with a better one next time.
Regulus could warn him off as much as he liked, but James Potter didn't give up. His best friend was suffering. Regulus was suffering. And he would do whatever he could to fix that.
"Hey mate," a familiar voice called as he walked into the castle, broom still safely under his arm. "Bit cold for flying, isn't it?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Moony," Sirius replied. "James could look at an oncoming tornado and still deem it the perfect flying weather."
James spun around, grinning ear to ear as the two marauders approached him. Sirius' hair, as always, was in dire need of a cut. It had grown down to his shoulders now, curling perfectly over his ears like he'd styled them. Remus stood at his side, close enough that the skin of their hands brushed every time they breathed.
James chose not to comment on that.
"Who wouldn't want to fly in a tornado?" He protested, falling into step beside them. "Like those... what are those muggle things you and Pete are always going on about, Remus? Rollercoasters?"
They were headed up to the Gryffindor dorms, and Remus laughed lightly. "But rollercoasters are safe. Most of the time."
"Psh, Prongs could hold his own against a tornado."
Remus turned wide eyes to Sirius, pointing accusingly. "You're the one that brought up tornados in the first place! I thought you were on my side!"
James' lips parted, readying to jump back into the argument, when a flash of red in the corner of his vision caught his attention.
"Where did she get that?" He asked, pointing over to the rose in the hands of a fifth year.
Beside him, the bickering came to an abrupt halt. Remus' eyes crinkled, watching James curiously. "Why? Got a special someone in mind, Prongs?"
Lips twisting into a smile, James cocked his head, the cogs of a new plan turning in his head. Sirius' frown burned into his side, but James paid no mind to it. This was in his best interests.
"Professor Sprout grew a batch of them. They were meant to be enchanted, but the spell didn't take, so she's giving them out to students who want them."
Grinning, James offered him a quick thanks, before turning in his heel and running in the opposite direction that they'd just come from.
If he couldn't reason Regulus into coming to the party, perhaps he could charm him into it.
Regulus Black, in all his glory, was glaring at James like he'd never beheld someone he hated more.
"You got me a flower?"
In a split second, he yanked the rose from James' outstretched hand, frantically checking the corridor around them for witnesses. His ears had turned red, eyes still burning with wrath, and the strength of James' smile was beginning to hurt.
"Come to Sirius' party."
"Why?" Regulus snapped, turning the full force of his gaze back on him.
"Because you're his brother."
Instantly, Regulus dimmed, hand closing tighter around the rose. Faltering, doubt began to sow its way into James' mind, but he didn't take the words back.
Regulus said nothing, lips pressing into a tight line. "How do I benefit from this?"
Smiling with as much of his famous charm as he could muster, James gestured dramatically towards the rose still in his palm. "Are you not benefitting already?"
Scowling, Regulus loosened his grip on the rose, setting it—with a delicacy that betrayed his actions—onto the banister of the staircase beside them.
"I don't want your flower," he begun to say, but James wasn't listening.
Instead, his attention was pinpointed on Regulus' hand. When he'd opened it to drop the rose, he'd revealed a cut along the centre, shallow and jagged and already beginning to bleed.
"You hurt yourself," he scolded gently. Acting on instinct, he pulled Regulus' wounded hand into his, uncurling it to inspect the thin infliction there.
Regulus hadn't even flinched.
"See?" The boy in question sighed, exasperated. "Your gift has already done me more harm than good. Will you give it up now?"
James pressed his fingertips to either side of the cut, murmuring a simple healing spell that his mother had taught him as a child. It was a spell that he'd had to perform so many times since that he'd perfected it even wandless.
The cut closed up, and James was abruptly aware of the minimal space between him and Regulus.
Torturously, the corridor was completely deserted, leaving the two of them in total, eclipsing silence. Regulus' hand was freezing in his, and James couldn't resist the instinct to press it between both of his in a futile attempt to warm him. The contact of their skin had sent sweepings of nerves through his system, leaving him feeble on his feet as he tried to keep his wits about him.
But that was useless. James was useless when Regulus came into the equation.
Slowly, he looked up, feeling the space between them like a live wire.
Grey eyes latched onto his. James couldn't breathe.
A couple of moments passed where he could feel the cold radiating off of Regulus in place of body heat. He wanted to do nothing more than wrap his hands around the boy—thaw the ice that he always carried with him—but he was locked in this exact moment.
Watching. Waiting.
But then, in half a second, Regulus pulled back like he'd been burnt. He stumbled a few steps backwards, face closing off into something completely unreadable.
"You can't buy me over," he said, though his voice didn't come out as steady as it should've. "So don't bother bribing me, James."
With that, he turned and fled around the corner.
James didn't realise he was gone until a full five seconds later. He'd been too busy turning over the sound of his name in Regulus' mouth.
Regulus
Running a finger over the healed cut on his palm, Regulus took a deep breath.
He shouldn't be considering it. He wasn't considering it.
The idea of attending his former brother's birthday still filled him with a sense of dread. It still made his stomach gnaw and his bones twist into a jumble of vibrating nerves, itching to escape the idea of being sat at that party—alone, uninvited and unwanted. Watching the family that he'd lost embrace the replacement.
But still. The edge of something sat on Regulus' chest, and he couldn't breathe beneath the weight of it.
James, sunny smile on his lips and blood-red rose clasped in his hands. The autumn sunlight washed against his brown skin, his glasses falling crooked across his nose.
Regulus turned on his side, shoving his face into his pillow.
He wasn't going to that party. No matter what tricks Potter pulled.
"Still brooding?" Evan asked, and Regulus could hear the smirk on his face as he walked into the dorm.
Narrowing his eyes, Regulus only glared half-heartedly over his shoulder.
"What did Potter want that was so bad?"
"Nothing," he snapped reflexively, before slumping his shoulders and rolling onto his back to face him. "He wants me to help him with Sirius' party."
Regulus was expecting outrage. Distaste. Disapproval. Anything to indicate that Evan, too, thought this was a blasphemous idea.
Instead, the boy tilted his chin in thought, and just shrugged.
"You should do it."
"What?"
"Well, your parents would disapprove of course, but you don't have to tell them," he reasoned, carrying on like he couldn't see Regulus' scowl. "But you have been miserable lately, and I think it would be good for you. Just to talk to Sirius, at the very least."
"So you're on Potter's side?"
Evan smirked. "Why do you care so much about him? This is about Sirius, after all."
Regulus spluttered, pulling himself to sit upright on the bed. His legs kicked over some abandoned Transfiguration work that he'd been too distracted to finish, and he huffed a sigh as the ink on the closest page smudged with the frenzy of his movements.
"They come as a pair," he objected, crossing his arms over his chest. "And besides. It would be infuriating to give in to Potter now, after I've spent so much energy avoiding him. He'd be so smug."
"I think he'd be relieved."
Regulus cast a questioning glance at Evan.
"He cares about Sirius like me and Barty care about you. If it were the other way round, I'd be getting pretty hopeless at this point." Evan shrugged, but he kept a careful gaze on Regulus', trying to peer through the armour of unreadability he always wore. "I don't think Potter will question it if you give in now. He'll be too happy."
"You'd do this same thing for me? Hunt down my brother?"
Evan's lips twisted into a smirk at the idea. "I'd try. It would take all of my energy not to strangle the annoying bugger, but I'd try."
Regulus didn't know what to do with the warmth that rose in his chest, like he'd inhaled fire and trapped it in his ribcage. He merely frowned at Evan, lips pursing.
"You can thank me later," Evan joked, likely able to read the emotions on Regulus' face.
Before he could reply, the door swung open, and Barty strolled through. He shared a secret, greeting smile with Evan before he turned back to Regulus with a raised brow.
"What's James Potter doing on our doorstep?"
Palm tingling with the memories of their last meeting, Regulus merely shook his head, jumping up from the bed to stand by the closed door. Barty and Evan watched him with matching curiosity, sharing glances that he didn't have the time to decode.
A second later, a polite knock echoed on the wood, and Regulus leapt back like it'd injured him.
"Barty, I just saw you walk in here. Is Regulus in?"
Barty looked to Regulus, a silent question.
Regulus hovered there for a few moments, paused in time as Evan's words rung in his head, clashing against the hesitance of his own thoughts on the matter.
And finally, when the eyes on him grew too heavy, and enough time had passed that James was sure to knock again any moment, Regulus gave in.
Releasing a harsh breath, he spun around, shoving the door open and storming out.
"What do you want?"
Startled, James took a moment to get his features in order. His gaze trailed down, and Regulus abruptly registered the state of disarray he was in.
Hair mussed from his pillow, ink across his fingertips and smudged against the knee of his trousers. Tie strung unevenly on his chest, and wrinkles setting into the skin of his shirt.
"You know what I want," James said, but there was a hoarseness to his voice like he was thinking of more than just his best friends birthday party.
Regulus wavered under the weight of it, swallowing around a dry mouth and tipping his chin up defiantly.
"You said no bribes," James said, clearing his throat. "But I couldn't help myself."
It was then that Regulus noticed the box in his hands, which he then rose, peeling it open to reveal an array of decorated cookies.
Regulus rose a brow. "Cookies?"
Smiling sheepishly, James nodded. "Come to Sirius' party."
"Which is it? Come to the party or help you plan it?"
"Well..." He trailed off, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "It's all already planned."
"So you lied about needing my help to do it?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry, I just didn't think you'd agree for the sake of reconciliation, you know?"
Regulus huffed a laugh. "I wouldn't have."
James' ears perked up, and he met Regulus' eyes with a hopeful glint. "But... now?"
Scowling in a way that wasn't entirely directed to James, Regulus grabbed the cookie box from his hands, hugging it to his chest and meeting James' gaze with a deadpan glare.
"I'll do it."
He just hoped he wouldn't regret it.
James
Planning a birthday party for Sirius Black was no simple feat. It required toeing the line between the teenage charm of rebellion and expulsion, and any year soon, McGonagall was sure to grow tired with their antics.
But tonight was his seventeenth, and Sirius deserved the biggest thing James could get away with.
Leaning back, he admired his handiwork. It had taken weeks worth of spell work to cover the entire lake, but he could already see the hints of glitter dancing in the corners of the cold water. Ready to be unleashed tonight.
The real difficulty had been Regulus, but finally, he had agreed. It shouldn't have made James' heart race like it did—it shouldn't have meant anything more than giving his best friend a chance at making up with his brother.
But he couldn't control it.
Regulus was going to be at the party. He'd be under the moonlight, caught between the capsule of colours James planned on releasing, stray curls in his neat black hair, grey eyes in constant motion—constant thought.
Taking a deep breath, James shook the image off. He was already late for Charms, and Flitwick was already on his back about the essay he still had to hand in. He hadn't been made a prefect, and though his parents hadn't been expressly disappointed in him, some part of him still wanted the Head Boy title. If only to make them proud (and perhaps increase his chances of achieving the Auror career he so craved.)
With that thought, he hurried back into the castle, escaping the bitter breeze and taking the corners at the sharpest angles he could manage.
It was, perhaps, because of this that when he collided with someone in the next corridor, it was with enough force to send both of them tumbling straight to the floor.
"Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry," James rasped, fighting to right himself.
The two of them were caught in a heap on the floor, the victim of his clumsiness trapped beneath his arms, where his hands were braced on either side of his head.
"You better be," the familiar voice croaked, batting him away.
James froze, realising who was beneath him.
"Regulus," he said dumbly. "What are you doing here?"
The boy looked up, eyes narrowing into serpentine slits with rage. "Where? Being pummelled to the ground by lunatics?"
"No, I—"
James couldn't get his head on straight. Regulus, like always, was freezing where their minimal skin was in contact. James' wrist brushed against the soft strands of his hair, eliciting a shiver that had him biting down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. They were close enough that it would take hardly an effort to kiss him, and it took all of the chaotic, buzzing energy in his chest to hold himself back.
"Are you going to move or would you prefer to just stare at me until the situation fixes itself?" Regulus said bitterly, interrupting his thoughts.
There was an answer to that question, but James had a feeling Regulus wouldn't be too appreciative of it.
So, gently, James sat up on his knees, scrambling to get upright again. He offered a hand to help Regulus up too, expecting to be scoffed at and disregarded, but Regulus took it.
Fire met ice between their palms, and it took all of James' willpower to release him when they were both stood.
"How's your hand?" James said—anything to keep Regulus in front of him, if only for a moment more.
"It's fine." Regulus raised a curious brow. "Are you stalking me, Potter? I've already said yes to your futile plan. Or are you making sure that I'm not planning on ditching?"
"Well, I was actually heading to class, but now I'm worried you are planning on ditching."
Regulus sighed, but his lips twitched like he was holding back a smile. The idea made James' lungs squeeze.
"I've already agreed. No promises on how early I leave, however."
Playing along, James narrowed his eyes, unable to comprehend this. Regulus was joking with him. There was a slant to his lips, a sharp glint to gunmetal eyes.
James had never seen him like this, and it just made the warmth in his chest strengthen tenfold.
Merlin, he was a man in love.
Becoming abruptly aware of how close they were, James stepped back. Sirius' image played in his mind—eyes twin to Regulus' burning with betrayal.
Sirius was his best friend. This—talking to Regulus, charming him into attending the party—was for him. It could never be anything more. Regulus would never want any more, and letting these feelings fester would only lead to heartbreak on all sides.
Clearing his throat, he nodded awkwardly. "Right. I'd best be off, then. Can't keep Flitwick waiting."
Regulus' face remained carefully blank, and if he noticed James' change in demeanour, he didn't let it show. Still, James thought he could feel grey eyes on him all the way down the corridor.
When he finally got to Charms class, he spent the rest of it fidgeting restlessly. Sirius nudged him a few times, trying to get his attention, but James didn't think he could face him without giving away the secret.
The secret of both the surprise party, and his unbidden feelings towards his little brother.
"Seriously, mate. What's got you so amped up?"
Remus, on Sirius' other side, sent a warning glare at James. The surprise party had been a joint effort on behalf of all of them, and though Sirius was sure to have guessed that it was happening, they'd both made a pact to keep up at least the illusion of secrecy for as long as they could.
"Hungry," he said, latching onto the first excuse that came to mind. "Just antsy for class to end so I can go rummage the kitchens."
Flitwick carried on speaking over them, either oblivious to or ignoring their hushed conversation.
"I heard the kitchens have cookies this week," Pete, on his other side, hummed, and James tensed. "Maybe we can sneak out and go get some."
"No!"
Flitwick paused, shooting a frown at James that had the boy instantly zipping his lips. Damn it, he thought. So much for Head Boy.
"I'm... allergic. To cookies." He said, sputtering to explain away his outburst.
In truth, the idea made some part of him revolt. He'd gotten those cookies for Regulus. If he went and did the same with someone else, it diminished the gesture.
Right?
James bit down on the inside of his cheek, leg jumping up and down violently beneath the table.
It wasn't a romantic gesture. Honestly, he should be able to go and steal some cookies with Sirius without feeling like he was betraying something. Regulus probably wouldn't have thought twice about it. Fuck's sake, Regulus probably didn't even care about the damn cookies.
"Since when do you have allergies?" Sirius scoffed, and now Remus really was glaring at him. "You always lord it over my head, just because I'm allergic to peanuts—"
"Tsk, that's because they're peanuts. Imagine being so easily felled. All it would take is one little peanut and you're a goner."
"You just said—"
"Class dismissed," Flitwick announced with a clap, interrupting their bickering. "Next lesson, I'd appreciate it if you could all be on time, prepared, and quiet. Thank you, Potter."
Smiling guiltily, James just nodded at him, before leaping out of his seat and grabbing Sirius by the elbow. Remus rose rapidly on his other side, gesturing for Peter to hurry, and then herding the three of them out of the door.
"What's going on?" Sirius asked, but he wore a wicked smile, and James rolled his eyes. Of course Sirius knew what was going on. He just preferred to play dumb so that he could act surprised and humble when he walked into the party.
"I'm having an allergic reaction." James nodded solemnly as the four of them ran up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, dragging a curious Sirius along with them. "To some cookies I had earlier."
"What the fuck, Prongs?"
James didn't respond, laughing under his breath as they reached the Fat Lady's portrait, panting out the password and saying nothing more as they walked in. Eyes roving over the common room, Sirius' shoulders slumped when he saw that it was empty.
Sharing a glance with Moony and Wormtail, they all pulled Sirius further into the room. It was unnaturally deserted—everyone had fled to their own dorm rooms to ready for the party—as it was still too early for their plans. The sun had only just begun to set, leaving the castle with a clear, lit view of the lake outside, and that just wouldn't do. Not when the teachers could so easily put a stop to it all.
"C'mon," Remus said, leading them into their dorm room.
Firewhisky was set out unsubtly in the middle of the floor, and James cleared his throat. "Get changed, Padfoot. We're, uh, going on a walk."
"And we need to be drunk to do that?" He replied, picking up one of the bottles with a smirk.
"Not drunk. Just tipsy, preferably."
"Pre-drinks for a walk. Very believable." Sirius shook his head, sighing as he grabbed his leather jacket from his trunk. "I thought I'd been a good influence on you lot after all these years, but you're still terrible liars."
"I don't think that would've been a good influence, Padfoot," Peter pointed out.
All four of them had retreated to their own beds, throwing on their clothes as fast as they could. Anticipation thickened the air, and James couldn't wipe the smile from his face as he imagined the night ahead. Sirius' face when he saw Regulus, there. Regulus' face when he and Sirius made up. Regulus' face if James offered him a dance. Regulus' face if James leaned in, close enough to kiss—
The pop of an opened bottle cut his thoughts short, and James—with his arms halfway through his favourite red jumper, one leg in his trousers and one leg still out—turned to watch as Sirius took a swig directly from it.
"Hey! That's for all of us, tosser."
"What are you scared of, Prongs? A little lip action?" Sirius taunted, pulling an obscene face.
"Right," Remus interrupted, leaning over Sirius to grab the bottle from his hands. "Save some for the rest of us."
Remus was dressed in one of his trademark sweaters—one that, he had noticed, sent Sirius a little crazy—and as he took a drink from the bottle, Sirius' eyes didn't once leave him. Tension simmered between the two of them, eyes locking as Remus set it back down with a thud, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Sirius swallowed loudly, and James rolled his eyes, turning his back on the two of them with a sigh.
They were hopeless.
When he walked over to get a drink of his own, the two had parted, pointedly not looking in each others direction. Both were brushed with red-cheeks, and James raised his brows at Peter, who only made a face as if to say who can know with them.
James could only pray that he wasn't as obvious as this when it came to Regulus.
Regulus
When the marauders finally made their way to the party, Regulus was already wishing that he hadn't come.
Everybody—hundreds of people—had gathered at the lake, and the chill had set in deep enough that even with his arms hugged to his chest, he couldn't calm the shivers wracking his body.
He could've arrived late. He should've arrived late, to save himself this hassle.
And yet, some part of him hadn't wanted to disappoint James. Dense as he was, the boy likely would've thought Regulus had gone back on his word if he didn't spot him at the lake immediately.
The idea shouldn't have bothered Regulus as much as it did.
He almost regretted it. Almost, because upon arriving, the first thing James did was scour the gathered faces for Regulus'. When their eyes met, his hazel ones lit up, and he beamed at Regulus like he'd never been happier to see somebody.
The sight made Regulus' face warm, even against the cold night air.
Next to James, Remus had his arms over Sirius' shoulder, holding his hands over his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. When he lifted them, the uproar of happy birthday that came from the crowd was loud enough to deafen. But Sirius, attention-revolved as he was, positively glowed beneath it. He turned to the marauders in a show of false humility, batting his eyelashes and dutifully pretending that he'd had no idea such a plan was in the works.
Regulus didn't fall for it. He'd known his brother since before he'd cultivated the act he wore now.
Where Regulus had honed restraint, Sirius had pushed the rules more and more with every passing day. Until it was clear that he didn't even really want to—he just wanted to prove that he could. That he was still strong enough to try. That Walburga hadn't beaten that free, brazen spirit inside of him out.
But Regulus was abruptly yanked from that train of thought when his brother looked over, and suddenly they were making eye contact. Sirius' lips parted on a whisper that he couldn't hear, crease forming between his brows, hands fisting at his sides like he couldn't decide whether to storm away or towards him.
James' hand landed on Sirius' shoulder, and Regulus had never felt more like an intruder as he did in that moment.
The crowd milled impatiently around him, but Regulus had tunnel vision. All he could see were the inflections of his brother's face, flickering between a million emotions a second.
At some point, James lifted his wand, and the sound of cracking was enough to break the eye contact between Regulus and Sirius. Murmurs filled the night air as people turned to watch the lake.
Slowly, it froze over, forming a thick layer of ice strong enough to skate on. And then, from the ice, glitter rose. Everyone fell silent, a hushed tension sewing between each and every one of them. The glitter made its way into the sky, collecting as disco balls that looked to be strung from the stars, spinning this way and that and catching the moonlight in a way that streaked the ice in colours Regulus had never even see before.
It was beautiful.
One by one, people stepped onto the ice. A few people casted charms, or transfigured themselves a pair of skates, but some settled for slipping and sliding, laughing through the near-falls.
Beneath the cold shock of the wind, Regulus shivered, straightening his spine.
Chatter filled the air in a soft murmur. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the lightshow of colours, splaying over the ice and mingling with the shadows drifting in from the woods.
"You knew he was coming?" Sirius hissed, and Regulus turned to look at the two boys approaching him, not talking half as quietly as they seemed to think. "Why didn't you warn me before I drank all that firewhisky?"
"Thought it would loosen you up a little. How are you supposed to fix anything when you're always so standoffish?"
"I am not standoffish, I'm just—"
"Hello, Sirius," Regulus cut him off. The two boys were now stood close enough to touch him, but they didn't seem to have realised it until he spoke.
Immediately, they flinched back. Two pairs of saucer-wide eyes met his, and Regulus deflated with an exasperated sigh.
"Right. Right, I'll leave you two alone then, shall I?"
"No, Prongs," Sirius replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "We both really want you here for this."
Flipping him off, James strode directly onto the ice. The athlete that he was, Regulus had expected him to hold his own against the slippery death-trap, but instead, he lost his balance instantly. With the grace of a new-born deer, James went sprawling across the lake, people leaping out of his way to avoid the mess—until James crashed headfirst onto a similarly unsteady Remus Lupin, and the two fell face first onto the ice.
Idiots.
"So." Sirius cleared his throat, turning away from the display that his friends had put on like such things were daily occurrences.
Regulus cleared his throat. They stared at each other in silence for a moment longer, Sirius' lips twisting with the words that Regulus knew he was holding back.
"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, breaking the settled tension. "I'm sorry Mother kicked you out."
"She didn't kick me out," Sirius interrupted. "I ran away."
"Right."
A muscle in Sirius' jaw ticked, and his gaze jerked sideways. On the ice, people had begun to dance. Music drifted from a speaker that Regulus hadn't noticed James enchant, and now the songs drifting out had slowed. Strands of moonlight had taken on shapes in the air, flitting about as butterflies, white wings silent beneath the night air.
"I miss you."
Regulus' eyes snapped forwards, stilling like he'd been hit. "You... do?"
Fidgeting, Sirius avoided his gaze. He bit his lip, shoulders twitching. "Yeah, I s'pose. You're still my brother. I didn't want it to be like this, y'know? If anything, I— I wish you could get out of that house too. I wish you could come with me."
An embarrassing sting blurred Regulus' vision, and it took an extra few blinks before he could speak again, shoving every wrenching, unwelcome, suffocating emotion back into that locked coffin.
"I can't. I'm not like you, Sirius. I can't just abandon everything I've ever known."
Affronted, his brother pressed his lips together. "I didn't abandon anything. I—"
"You abandoned me."
Their breaths came quicker as their words sharpened, and now Regulus could see them fogging in the air before them. His guts had tangled into knots, and Regulus' skin itched like a misfitted suit. This wasn't him. This place? These people? This party? He stuck out like a sore thumb, merely a decoration that James Potter had acquired for his brooding brother.
Sirius was watching him with hard eyes, utterly still in a way that looked misplaced on the restless boy.
"Is that really what you think?"
Swallowing quietly, Regulus only nodded. "I'm alone now. In that house."
"I'm sorry, Reggie." Sirius' frowned deepened, and Regulus abruptly remembered that he'd been tipsy when he'd first walked over. Now, he was utterly sober. Something like guilt shallowed his breaths.
Regulus was ruining this for him.
Sirius was only talking to him to placate James. Or, perhaps, to assuage his own guilt about leaving Regulus in that house. He wasn't sure which was worse.
"No, really. I'm sorry."
Eyes meeting, Regulus tilted his head. Some small, pitiful part of him latched onto the words. Pulled them close to his chest and allowed them to smooth over the rough edges of it. The holes in his heart where his ribs had poked entirely through.
"I'm sorry too. You—you're still my brother. No matter what maman says."
Slowly, a careful smile crept onto Sirius' lips. When Regulus' lips twitched, that smile grew, until he was staring at the brother he only ever saw from a distance. Years spent watching through the window, catching glimpses of Sirius—happy only when he wasn't home. When he didn't have his brother around to remind them both of the misery of Grimmauld place.
The sound of a yell to their left yanked the both of them from the moment, from the beginnings of their tentative, fragile alliance.
"I'd better go save Moony. He's an idiot without me," Sirius said pointedly, both of them staring at the lanky teenage boy laid out head-first on the ice, groaning in misery.
"That he is," Regulus replied dryly.
In an instant, Sirius was gone, breezing over the frozen lake like he'd been born on the ice. Regulus, on the other hand, had taken to hanging awkwardly on the edge. As he watched the party from the outsides, he became progressively more sure that he should leave.
He didn't know anyone here. He'd kept his word to James, what was left to keep him here? He could—
Just as he begun to back away, glancing around to make his escape, the sound of shedding ice approached with a brunette boy with crooked glasses.
"Going somewhere?" He asked, separated from Regulus only by the dividing line between snow and ice.
"I did what you wanted. I talked to Sirius. We're... okay, now. Or at least, we will be soon, I think."
At that, a smile broke out on James' face, skating impossibly closer to the edge of the lake. "Really?"
"Really."
Around them, the music and conversation and laughter continued, but it all seemed so far away. James was close enough to touch, both of them falling quiet at the realisation. Hazel eyes swirled with something that Regulus couldn't understand, and it was only until after he'd done it that he realised he'd stepped forward.
Snow crunched beneath his feet, breaths shallow and hot. A lump formed in the back of his throat, and James' smile had dropped into something intense.
Everything in Regulus ached to close the remaining distance, and that terrified him.
He'd never felt this way before. Suddenly, he was noticing every detail of James' face. The way that, even in the cold autumn wind, he radiated warmth. An impenetrable bubble, like a lighthouse at sea, piercing the dark. The way that his eyelashes were far longer than they had any right to be, dark and curling up, matching the wide, doe-eyed curiosity of the hazel eyes below. The corners of his mouth, creased by his perpetual smiles.
And the way that James was tilting his head slightly now, watching Regulus watch him.
"Dance with me."
Moonlight drifted over the two of them, and Regulus couldn't feel the cold anymore. His heart beat harder in his chest and, as he jolted back, he shook his head. The faraway music rose in volume, and James merely smirked, stretching his hand out.
And against his own will, Regulus took it.
James' hand was warm, calloused against the frigid softness of his own palms. Shivers wracked down his spine, goosebumps trailing down his forearms as he fought every instinct to look at James.
Instead, he glued his eyes to his feet, biting the inside of his cheek harshly. "I don't have any skates."
"Easily amendable," James said lightly, pulling his wand from his pocket and transfiguring his shoes.
With no excuses left, Regulus bit back a sigh, and took his first step onto the ice.
Anyone else would've lost their balance. He'd never ice-skated before, and certainly never rollerskated—his mother would've disowned him at the mere idea—but no child of the Black family was born without perfect balance. It took a moment to right himself, remembering ballet and etiquette lessons and sharp criticisms, but he didn't fall.
He didn't even falter.
"Merlin," James exclaimed softly, and Regulus fought against the blush rising in his cheeks. "You're incredible."
James squeezed his hand, and Regulus choked on his own tongue as he was pulled further onto the lake. Nobody was watching them; they were free to do as they liked.
"How are you supposed to dance if you can hardly stay upright?" Regulus quipped, raising a brow. James was still unsteady, but trying valiantly not to pull the two of them into a head-first crash onto the ice.
"You won't let me fall."
Regulus' heart jumped into his throat. The quiet sincerity with which he'd said it rang true. Because he wouldn't. Even if it meant Regulus came crashing down after him, he wouldn't let James fall.
Around them, couples had looped their arms over each other. The better skaters had resorted to slow-dancing, twirling their partners and laughing privately between themselves. Regulus' mouth turned dry watching it, and he spared a curious look back at James, whose eyes had never left him.
"C'mon," he said, smiling boyishly. "We have to at least try."
Feigning reluctance, Regulus let himself be pulled in closer. The mellow murmur of violin strings swept over them, pushing them closer like a rope wound around their waists.
James beamed at him, and it took all of his courage to swallow his matching smile. It was a foreign feeling. Regulus didn't smile. He was hard edges and bitter scoffs and narrowed eyes. That wasn't something he'd ever had to force, it was just who he was.
But maybe James liked people who smiled. He was friends with Sirius, after all—a whirlwind of chaos and too-deeply felt emotions, chomping at the bit and spilling with intensity, like there was a tornado in his bones that he couldn't quite keep leashed.
Regulus could never be that.
"What are you thinking about?" James murmured. His hands landed in a ring around Regulus' waist, so soft that he could hardly feel them. And still, the contact felt damning.
"Why are you doing this?"
Stilling, James frowned at him. He didn't move his hands, but the gentle sway he'd been building up came to an abrupt halt.
"Doing what?"
Despite the cold gnawing into him, Regulus burnt with a heat that turned his cheeks red. Where his wrists had hesitantly came to rest on James' shoulders—the motion stiff and resistant enough that he was sure he looked like he was being held hostage—his knuckles had turned white, clutching the fabric beneath them.
"Being... nice to me." Immediately, Regulus wished he'd never said it. The words sounded ludicrous, spoken like a scorned child. Quiet, petulant and naïve.
James blinked at him. Silence reigned between them, James' gaze weighing heavy on his face but he couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes.
"I— what?"
Mortified, Regulus pulled away fast enough to give himself whiplash. He stumbled back—stumbled!—skates skidding against the ice and leaving him, for the first time in his life, truly unsteady. Spinning away, he made a break for the castle, desperate to get out of here, to get away from James, from the embarrassment pulling him apart and scattering the pieces of him across the lake.
Raw. Exposed. Weak.
Why did he care? Why did he care what James Potter thought? He was just another idiot friend of his brother's. Another brooding, egotistical moron that he shouldn't give two shits about—
"Regulus."
The castle was so close. Another few seconds and he'd be off the ice completely, free to pretend none of this had ever happened.
"Regulus, if you don't slow down I'm going to topple both of us over," came James' panting voice, as a hand latched around Regulus' arm.
The motion pulled him sharply off-course, and paired with the speed he'd been going at, even Regulus Black couldn't keep his balance as he collided straight into somebody else.
The world moved in slow motion, horror seizing him as his own wide-eyes met James', and the two of them fell backwards into one neat, jumbled pile.
"Merlin," James moaned, one hand jumping to hold the back of his head. "They should really make you wear helmets for this."
"It was your party," Regulus pointed out, scrambling to get off of him. "You could've gotten some."
James just shook his head, squinting at him. The position they were in was a mirror to when James had ran into him in the hallway a few days ago, and Regulus' stomach heaved with how close they were again.
In a split-second, he rolled onto his back, trying to ignore the embarrassment still curdling in his guts.
By some miracle, nobody paid them a second glance. So many people had fallen over by now that it was nothing more than the five hundredth fall, and everyone was far too distracted with keeping their own balance to care much. Some pairs were still dancing, but Regulus noticed Sirius in the corner of his eye, handing out plastic cups of firewhisky that had stolen almost everyone's attention.
It was a wonder that the teachers hadn't turned up to shut the party down, given the volume of the music still circling with the uproar of chatter and laughter. But Regulus supposed that they'd gotten used to sleeping with ear plugs on the night of November 3rd.
"Are you okay?" James asked, still on the ground by the time Regulus had righted himself and stood up.
He didn't answer, instead brushing himself off and trying not to think about what his mother would say if she could see him now. But just as he turned again, ready to dash back off, a familiar hand landed on his wrist.
"I'm being nice because I like you," James murmured, close enough that his breath skimmed Regulus' shoulder. "You're a good person. No matter how much you think you aren't, or how far beyond redemption you believe you are."
Regulus shivered, the words settling uncomfortably on his skin. He wanted to wrap himself up in them just as much as he wanted to forget James had ever said them. They brought a sense of tangible, trickling hope. A false comfort that he couldn't escape fast enough.
"I like you because you always let your friends serve themselves first at dinner. I like you because no matter how hard you work to keep your act up, you still silently hex Slytherins when they harass muggleborns. I like you because you always thank the house elves, and you always thank the librarian when you leave, even if you haven't borrowed a book, or even if you're not in there for very long because you'll leave whenever Sirius walks in."
"How do you know all of that?" Regulus asked, barely a whisper across his lips.
This time, it was James' turn to redden. Regulus didn't think too much into it—not when his head was still swirling with the speech he'd just been given—but he couldn't help thinking it was the sweetest that James Potter had ever looked.
"I, uh—" James coughed into his fist, hand dropping from Regulus' wrist. "I just notice."
Notice was an understatement. Regulus had spent his whole life blending in. At first, it hadn't been by choice, but it was impossible not to be overshadowed when Sirius was so close. He had such a big personality, it was all Regulus could do to fit into the gaps that he left. But then, as he'd grown older, it had become not only habit, but strategy.
In a house with Walburga Black, it was not smart to stand out.
And then, at school, it had become a fight not to let people realise how little he truly agreed with his family's ideals. He could've gone down the route that Sirius had chosen, of course—being brazen about his disapproval—but Regulus had never been as brave as his big brother, and in Slytherin, he was surrounded by people that would've ratted every word back to his parents.
So, no. He'd never expected anyone to notice anything about him. Definitely not James, who knew so many more interesting people. Who was the star of every quidditch match, beloved by all. Hogwarts' resident Golden Boy.
"I'm sorry," James interrupted, redder than freshly-spilt blood. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I really—I'm just an observant person, it's not like I'm stalking you or anything. If anything, it's because I see you so little, that I remember these things, really. Just because, you know—"
"I have no idea what you're saying."
Flustered, James raised a hand to the back of his neck. "I just meant you're a good person, is all."
And because Regulus was weak in the knees, and desperate to keep James from the hasty retreat he looked so prepared to make, he said, "I'm not so sure about that."
"Why not?"
Because I want to kiss you. Regulus couldn't breathe past the knot in his throat. Because you're my estranged brother's best friend, and you're good, and kind, and wonderful, and I want to kiss you.
James Potter was everything his mother would despise. Everything that Regulus should've avoided, if only so that he didn't ruin him by association, stain him with the festering rot in Regulus' own heart.
It had started to rain, now. Of course it had. Because where Sirius was lightning and crackling electricity, Regulus was the drizzle that accompanied. He was grey skies and bleak clouds and thunderstorms and, behind his brother, he was nothing but a blurry background. And James—
James was the sun.
Not just because he was warm, or charming, or beautiful, but because he was always there. James Potter was infallible. Even Regulus, moody and miserable as he was, couldn't drive him out of the sky.
The rain started to come down harder, clamping frigid fangs into his bare skin, but Regulus couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but stare at James as he tilted his head up, water gathering along the rims of his glasses and fogging up the lenses.
And, Merlin, Regulus wanted to kiss him.
Because nothing in his life had been constant. His parents love had been conditional—he'd spent every waking moment clawing until his nails were bloody to keep it—and even his brother had left him eventually.
But James?
James Potter wouldn't leave unless the sky itself swallowed him whole.
James
As the rain grew heavier, people began to shriek—laughter mixing with the slide of metal against ice as everyone hurried to find shelter.
But James didn't dare move.
Regulus was looking at him like nobody ever had before. Heavy and transfixed, lips parted on unsaid words that gathered in the space between them.
Every thought James had ever had—every feeling, every desire—was lost to him. Hidden beneath a fog that he didn't want to part. Everything escaped his mind except the boy in front of him. Normally, Regulus only humoured James' conversations for a maximum of ten minutes. But now, it'd been at least thirty, and they were still here. Regulus was still here.
James was drunk with it. And perhaps violently jealous of anyone else that managed to spend this much time in Regulus' company.
Neither of them said anything, they didn't even move as the stampede of partiers pushed past, and the air grew thicker with every passing minute. It was like they'd both been put under a spell, frozen in time even as the world kept moving around them. Somebody had turned the music off, and now the only sounds were the frenzied beats of his heart, and the violent pinpricks of water to ice.
Regulus. Regulus Black was looking at him like that.
It was enough to make him dizzy, breaths turning shallow as their eyes met and locked.
"How can I be a good person?" He finally said. "I'm my mother's son."
Regulus' voice, like black silk, mingled with the beginnings of thunder. It rumbled like a dark omen over their heads, and James had to speak up for his next words to be heard over it.
"So is Sirius."
"And look at him!" Regulus yelled, startling the both of them. His hands swept out in a wild gesture to their surroundings, shadows brewing in grey eyes. "I am nothing like him."
"I know."
Regulus shook his head, licking the rainwater from his lips in a motion that had James' brain shutting down on him. "Do you? Because you claim to know so much about me, but when have we ever spoken, James? This whole week you've had to fight for it. I am not a likeable person."
Stepping forward, James took Regulus' hands in his. They were wet and cold, but he didn't mind. He only brought them to his lips, pressing a kiss to the soft skin, and wondering if the rainstorm had turned him mad. Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not as Regulus' eyes flared wider, hands gripping his tighter.
"I fought to talk to you because I want to. Because it's more of a struggle not to go over and talk to you every time I see you. Do you know how much it kills me?" James shook his head, blowing out a harsh breath. "You're not a stranger, Regulus. I've seen you every day for five years, and Sirius has talked about you even more."
"That's not the same."
"No," James breathed, skating even closer. "But it means that I know what I'm getting into. I know that you have days where you'll want to snap my head off more than you'll want to talk to me. I know that you grew up in a house where you had to hide everything, and it'll take years before I can read all your little tells to understand your mood. But I want to understand them. To understand you."
They were both breathing heavily now, drenched through by the rain and completely, utterly alone on the ice. Shadows pressed in at every corner from the ruthless, beating rain. Water dripped down both of their faces like tears, and James wanted to wipe away each and every one for him.
"What are you saying?" Regulus asked, but the words were quiet, and James didn't have time to answer them.
Not when he was already leaning down, one hand drifting to Regulus' jaw, and the other dropping to his waist. James kissed him, feather-light and filled with every confession he was too afraid to make. Regulus' lips tasted like mint and thunderstorms; gunpowder infused between their mouths.
It was everything.
Heat blistered between them as they fought to get closer, warring against the wind that shoved at them. James' hair had never been wilder than it was now, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not as Regulus dug sharp fingernails into his shoulders, pulling him closer than should've been physically possible.
They were an unstoppable force. The thunder grew louder, ricocheting in their ears, but all James could hear was Regulus, breathing against his lips.
"James," he said, pulling back to look at him. Silver eyes flashed, meeting his, and James was willing to commit murder to keep them on him. "I don't understand."
"Don't understand what?" He asked, leaning forward. "I like you, Regulus. A whole lot, actually."
"How? I'm—"
"Wonderful."
Regulus' eyes narrowed, and James lifted his thumb to smooth away the crease between his brows.
"You are wonderful," he repeated. "And nothing you can say will change my mind."
At that, Regulus' eyes watered, and he jerked his face away so fast that James only smiled. He needed to hear that, and James was willing to say it to him every day for the rest of their lives if need be.
After a moment, Regulus cleared his throat, turning back to James with a newly implemented, unreadable face. "I don't think my mother will be too happy when she hears about this."
James shrugged. "Whilst not the objective here, pissing off Walburga is always a lovely perk."
"You know who else it's gonna piss off?"
James raised a brow, meeting the quirk of Regulus' lips with a horrified face. Slowly, he looked over Regulus' shoulder to the castle, where the partygoers had all fled to.
And, with timing like Merlin himself had blessed him, Sirius strode straight through the doors.
"James!" He shouted, shaking with rage as he ran towards them. "I saw you two from the window!"
Gradually, James backed away, raising his hands in terrified surrender. Regulus stepped to the side, looking bored, but James saw the smirk on his lips. The bastard.
Sirius stopped on the snow, and James' shoulders sagged, thinking his best friend had calmed down—but Sirius only yanked one of his shoes straight off, before raising it like a weapon and pinning murderous eyes on him.
"That's my little brother!"
With that, James turned and took off on the ice, skating for all he was worth and doing his best not to fall. Today was the first time he'd ever skated, Merlin's sake, and now his life was all but on the line—
Somewhere, behind Sirius' unintelligible yells, James heard Regulus start to laugh. Someone else joined him, and James peered narrowed eyes over his shoulder to see Remus Lupin lounging against the castle walls.
Twats.
But laughter bubbled in James' throat, and he found himself thinking that he'd take a million shoe-beatings if it meant he got to hear Regulus laugh like that again, and he'd face the entire angry Black family if it meant he got to call Regulus his.
That was love. And he'd spend every waking moment convincing Regulus he was deserving of it.