Chapter Text
"He's courting you!" the disbelief in Sirius' voice registered before his words, and James whipped his head towards his best friend.
A shrilled “Would you like to repeat that?” is all that came out.
It took a moment for James to digest the meaning, and a slacked jaw was the first reaction, accompanied by a strangled, “Who?”
James didn’t know where to focus his attention, the absurdity of the statement taking him completely by surprise. The fatigue of the early training session disappeared under the river of adrenaline swimming in his veins, and he physically recoiled from Sirius’ outraged gaze.
His breath stuttered as he tried to come up with an explanation for his best friend’s outburst, but his brain was scrambled. He knew he shouldn’t have been lazy, he would’ve already showered and sat for breakfast now.
“What are you talking about, who’s supposed to be courting me?” The words were all jumbled together, James couldn’t think of one single reason for Sirius’ outburst.
“What do you mean courting-” he sputtered out, cutting himself off at his friend’s gradually changing expression. Sirius' dark eyebrows were now one with his messy curls, still a victim of Remus’ pillow. Bleary eyes long gone, his friend’s expression was now bright and incredulous.
“You’re literally covered in our house colours!” Sirius exclaimed, hands thrown towards James, waving around to indicate his… everything, apparently?
James still stared at him, head tilting to the side in confusion and brown eyes wide. Really, he just wanted to go have some breakfast, he might be used to the early mornings, but all that training has left him with a desperate need for food.
At his shrug, James watched his roommate throw his head back, let out a suffering groan, and march towards him. He took a step back, Sirius was looking a tad too irritated, but his friend just grabbed his shoulders and pushed him towards the mirror. Sirius moved his hand up and down, indicating his whole figure, and stared at him expectantly through the mirror.
“Uhm….” James breathed out, swiped his tongue on his lips, “What am I looking at, exactly?” Sirius’ exasperation was now palpable, but James really didn’t understand his cryptic statements.
“You’re literally covered in my House colours, James! Think about it,” he exclaimed, tone rising in pitch. And really, James would like to say that he took a good look at himself and finally understood his friend’s words, but really, he was just more confused.
James stared at his uniform, the dark red giving way to golden motif, his bag carrying his gear, which he brought to the dorms to polish, was bearing the Gryffindor crest, and the band he used to keep the mess that was his hair out if the way. He really needed to take a shower, but apparently this is what he gets for forgetting his shampoo: a riddle.
“I really don’t get it Padfoot, of course I’m covered in our House colours,” he started, more a question than a statement, “I was training, it’s Sat-” a yelp came of his mouth, the slap to the back of his head interrupted him.
“Are you being thick on purpose?!” James would like to make it known that no, he very much wasn’t. “My House, not Gryffindor!” Sirius gripped his shoulders and gave him a shake for good measure. And, well. What could he say to that?
Silence fell as James stared at his reflection, appraising. He ignored the mess in the dorm staring at him through the glass, and focused on himself. Head cocked, he looked at his glasses, a bit crooked on the nose, and started his analysis: the red headband keeping his sweaty hair back, to his earrings, a birthday gift, the blue of the lapis lazuli shining in the morning sun, down to his dark crimson shirt. The bag’s strap sporting a black band, an extra he’d been given kept there in case he forgot the one currently in his hair.
He was still wearing his Chaser gloves, as he came straight from the pitch, with it’s still new and shiny black leather, silver stitching and reinforced knuckles contrasting with the red detailing on his bag. The blue hair elastic on his wrist, a gift he’s had since his hair started to grow long enough to warrant tying, matched the laces on his shoes, the colour kept going back to the blue and silver despite his attempts to change, victim to a clever spell. Even the sweater in his hands was black, the silver detailing peeking through.
Huh.
James turned his head to stare at his new silvery quill, resting on his bedside table, thought of the second blue sweater in his trunk…
Huh.
“Who…?” He asked once more, tongue suddenly parched, because the words were impossible for him to conjure, the thought too daring. He refused to think it possible. Sirius turned him so they could face each other, hands on his shoulder.
“My brother is courting you,” the surety of the statement made James’ head become even fuzzier, and he blinked at his best friend.
He really didn’t know what reaction to expect from Sirius, what the consequences would be for him. James didn’t know how to handle this situation he still couldn’t grasp, but the outrage was evident in Sirius’ eyes, and he braced for a reaction that didn’t come. He didn’t know what to expect, but he certainly wasn’t ready for what his best friend said.
“Regulus is courting you,” he started, “How did you not see this?” and James really didn’t know what to say to that. In a world where he hadn’t even dared to think about Regulus being interested in him, here his brother was, making crazy statements. Two years of him making a fool of himself, crushing on Regulus, and not one time had James thought something like this would happen. Distressed, he asked, “How did you see it?!”
“I’ve been suspicious for a while, but you’ve been hanging around him for a while, so I ignored it,” he sighed, “but then I saw your gloves,” and waved his hand toward them. “What’s wrong with them? They’re new!” James asked, looking at his hands, bewildered.
“Well, what was wrong with your old ones? Didn’t you just buy them this summer?” And James stared at his best friend, shoulders slumping, “Regulus gave these to me,” he said, voice low.
“Yes, he did. Black leather gloves, silver stitching, and I can see the lining. Guess the colour.” He challenged.
James stared at his hands, and mumbled out, “He said my old gloves weren’t good for my grip and gave these to me,” and then, with a frustrated grunt, “He looked so annoyed with me too, like my gloves personally offended him!”
Sirius laughed at that, breaking the tension in the room. James’ shoulders slumped, as he closed his eyes. He thought back on some of his interactions with Regulus, steps that brought him here today.
The earrings were a birthday gift, given to James last March. Regulus had waited for them to have their patrol together, a couple of days before the actual birthday, and almost at the end of their walk he’d given him the little box. The younger boy had barely waited to see his reaction, before wishing him a good night and briskly walking away. James had chalked it up to his general dislike to being the centre of attention, but now he wondered…
(Thinking about it, their patrol was a last minute swap, James usually walked with the Hufflepuff Prefect on Thursdays.)
The hair elastic was one of Regulus’, his hair wasn’t all that long, but that day at the library he saw James huffing and puffing about the way his curls kept falling on his eyes when walking behind him to get to his friends. James hadn’t seen him, so he jumped at the sound of the Slytherin tutting and coming closer. He’d felt slender fingers caress his forehead and froze in waiting, feeling his hair being moved around until he heard it being pulled in a little knot right on the top of his head. He’d turned around wide eyed and seen Regulus sniggered as he muttered, “Now it won’t bother you.”
James had stared in surprise at the silvery vest walking away from him, but left the little bun untouched, despite how ridiculous he probably looked.
The laces were just a funny story before his analysis, a simple spell Regulus had thrown his way to distract him after James had been annoying him during the Slytherin’s reading time in the garden, and he had yet to make an effort to find a spell that actually changed the colour back.
The sweater episode was sweeter, but James hadn’t dared to hope that Regulus had given it to him for a reason outside of simple kindness, a leant garment because James was surprised by Autumn’s cold morning two days ago.
Oh.
Even the gloves he was wearing were given to him by the curly haired boy, under the guise that “Potter, your performance is subpar with those old things. I want at least some form of competition when I wipe the floor with you.”
Never mind the fact that James had just bought them las spring, and they were still quite new.
James wondered, if he sat down and thought about all these episodes, would he really find more that might indicate a courtship? He hadn’t dared hope, but if this was the case, and even Sirius was slapping him with the truth…
Dread pooled in his gut.
“Sirius!” he gasped, “This was a possibility all along?!” affronted, he stared at his best friend. “Well, I certainly didn’t know! It’s not like he’s said anything to me about it,” Sirius shot back, distress now clear in his face too.
“But think about it, it makes sense! I just thought he was warming up to you and tolerating your presence more, but this is groundbreaking!” The distress was now a mix of excitement and disbelief, and James felt a firm grip on his shoulders once again. He gulped, took a stuttering breath, and said, “If this is true, he’s been at it for months,” dread pooled in his stomach, “Sirius, I haven’t corresponded for months!”
“That’s okay, you’ve been a fool for him for years now, he can manage a couple months,” he smiled. “Oh, this is such good news, I was worried we’d have to kill his suitors, but if he wants you then we’re okay!”
Then, with a squeeze of his shoulder, his expression turned thunderous, “But now, you better start one hell of a courtship. No brother of mine will be left in a one sided effort.”
James was a bit terrified by his friend’s changing expressions.
-
House Potter had its rules for courtship.
Despite its heirs having more leeway in their choice of partners, James knew that his House was founded on a precise set of ideals. Neither of his parents had ever pressured him into finding a suitable partner the old way, but they’d taught their only son what rules to follow, should he ever find a romantic match he’d like to propose to traditionally.
Far be it from Euphemia and Fleamont to impose such practices on their son, but James had heard his parents’ story enough times to know that he’d like to follow on their footsteps, ever the romantic.
That’s the exact reason why he was sitting on a corner of the library, on the floor in the Herbology section, surrounded by tomes on Floriography. James knew Regulus, and knew that the boy would appreciate a more traditional tone.
It had been an insane couple of days for him, trying to understand the weight of what Sirius made him acknowledge. It was never even a possibility, in his mind: he’d spent so much time looking at Regulus from afar, admiring him and caring for him, but never daring to step closer. Never aiming to take too much, too scared to defy his luck and scare the boy away, for he preferred to be able to be present in his life, in any way allowed, rather than ever risk losing him. A hundred times over.
The sun filtering through the windows warmed the side of his face, particles floating in the quiet space, disrupted only by the flutter of the pages he was leafing through. Ink stained his calloused fingers, and James was quite sure there was traces of it in his hair after running his hands through it so often.
He was the perfect picture of focus and dedication, sat in his corner of the library whenever he could make time amidst his duties. His friends had been a bit worried about him, but Sirius helped him navigate the situation without saying too much.
The days seemed to pass in a syrupy slow: he felt light with the new knowledge, but it contrasted with being weighed down by the need to craft a perfect courtship. He hadn’t dared dream, but now that the possibility was real, he wanted everything to be flawless.
James had studied with private tutors the years before Hogwarts, so he was well informed on the Potter House traditions, but he really needed to get this right, so brushing up on his studies was the course of action.
The Potters’ had a long history, followed by deeply rooted beliefs the family built their values on.
The passion flowing through their veins was admirable, and dedication to their talents is what brought their family glory: from the creation of medicines and devoting their knowledge to the medical field, to applying their skills to modern potioneering, like his father.
They were a line of inventors, people’s who’s ingenuity is now amalgamated in people’s everyday life.
Thus, Herbology has always been a core element to his family’s well of knowledge, to the point where the Star Clematis sat elegantly on their crest as a Potter symbol. A flower born out of a resilient vine, capable of growing strong with just a bit of sunlight, it’s bold colours a beacon of elegance in every garden.
James was proud to wear his signet ring, bearing a mark of mental beauty and cleverness.
The Potters were incredibly skilful people, and their understanding of the subject transformed into self expression, making it a good outlet to elaborate on feelings, and convey messages.
Floriography became the favourite method of courtship, as it allowed for generations of Potters to share a piece of their history and passion, as well as demonstrated their dedication and romanticism, thanks to the thoughtful process of picking and growing the flowers. It was also a great medium of self expression, giving people the freedom to tailor the gifts to their liking.
Granted, there were cases when yellow carnations were faithfully grown and gifted to show just how much disdain a Potter could hold.
James was privy to his family’s history of course, and being part of such an old family meant that society was conscious of their methods, as it had been witnesses to them. He just hoped Regulus would recognise his dedication and care, as well.
He really needed to speak with Professor Sprout, and maybe let McGonagall in on his plans.
There were many ways to start a courtship by the book, and James needed to research flower language so that he could announce his intentions loud and clear, in a way that would leave no doubt in anyone’s minds. He didn’t know the reason for Regulus’ subtle advances, didn’t understand the thought process.
Did the younger boy think James would refuse them? A question he’ll need to ask sometime in the future.
For now, James would pull together the greatest flowery courtship anyone would ever see, starting off with a declaration of intention.
-
Remus stared at his friend, sat in front of him at the breakfast table. James looked like he was awaiting for final judgement by a long forgotten deity.
With a pale face, clenched jaw and eye bags more evident than usual, the Gryffindor thought his roommate sported tired eyes after a night outside the dorm doing who knows what.
Looking back, James had been particularly restless the last couple weeks, always jetting around the castle and the grounds, battling the harsher November mornings and late nights.
The bouncing leg under the table was yet another sign, as the boy in front of him kept moving his food around the plate. It was such a contrast from his usual presence during mornings, all smiles and enthusiastic words despite the early hour, but it just reflected the frenzy of the week.
Something was up with James, everyone already knew, he’d made that pretty clear.
Zapping around, muttering about colours, prizes, strategic placing and charts, his friend had looked a bit insane during the week, but Sirius had told them all to leave him be.
And who was Remus to doubt his boyfriend, really.
He didn’t expect anything to be different this morning, but James’ frenzy came to a sudden halt, and Remus almost didn’t notice that he was staring wide eyed at the Great Hall’s doors.
He was distracted by the quiet befalling on the whole student body sitting for their meal, loud conversation leaving way to hushed whispers.
Sirius leaned forward to see, immediately whipping around to his friend sat next to him. The tension was palpable in James’ dark eyes, as they zeroed in on the doors.
Remus turned around to follow his gaze, and noticed Sirius’ brother and his friends, looking quite unbothered by the display in front of them. Almost a bit too nonchalant in the way they looked around, side eyeing the Gryffindor table.
His attention immediately moved from the two Slytherins to focus on Regulus.
Remus recoiled as he saw the younger boy swipe away a curl from his eyes, only for his hand to fall to the side. The movement only served to move the attention to his other arm, bent toward his chest, where his hand grasped a bright daffodil.
Regulus presenting himself wearing his full robes was just as surprising, unlatched mantle resting on his shoulders to leave way to the dress vest underneath. It was in the Black family’s blue, with silver embroidery, and it fell leisurely on his back, following the younger boy in his movements as stormy eyes searched… the Gryffindor table?
Remus gaped, watching as Regulus Black moved toward them, eyes set right on his friends.
Now, it wasn’t all that uncommon for the younger Slytherin to spend time with them, although he outwardly refused to come close to their table during meals. The sandy haired boy recalled foundry how his friend claimed the closeness to so many of them would damage his brain, but they could be found sharing other spaces of the castle.
He watched with rapt attention now as Regulus walked somewhat confidently towards them, nervous energy peeking through the expression, despite the careful way he was trying to hide it from prying eyes.
As furious whispers ricocheted through the Great Hall, volume and words half concealed, Remus realised bow pivotal this moment would be for very different reasons than he’d thought.
Regulus slowed down a couple of steps from his brother and James, and this close, the tremble in the younger boy’s hand was visible.
Nevertheless, Regulus straightened his back (as if he’d ever be caught slouching), pushed back his shoulders and raised his chin. Under set eyebrows, light eyes decidedly focused on… James?
Remus knew they’d become closer, but not to the point where the Slytherin would sacrifice his peace from rumours to talk to him.
Apparently, Remus had lots to still learn about his friends.
It was made evident when James tried to scramble out of his seat as Regulus stopped right in front of them.
The werewolf stared in awe at the scene starting to unfold before his very eyes.
The reverence in James’ eyes was so strong, Remus finally realised what was happening.
The boys both stood facing of each other, and regarded the person in front of them.
James was clenching and unclenching his fist to keep still, while Regulus fiercely refused to let his nerves show more then the shake in his hands he couldn’t control.
His light eyes were focused on the Gryffindor, refusing to break eye contact as finally, after a deep breather, he lowered his head in a light bow, and handed James the bright flower he was holding.
Remus stared at the scene, how Regulus’ left hand carefully held his right wrist, where the daffodil was clasped by pale fingers in an offer to James.
Remus was familiar with the Potter family’s ways by this point, so he waited for James’ next movement with baited breath. He saw his friend’s wide eyes and trembling exhale, and let a small smile paint his lips when James moved his right hand to the centre of his chest, palm splayed. His left arm bent behind his back, the dark haired boy lowered himself to a bow at his waist.
Smile now full blown, Remus turned to Sirius in front of him, to lightly tease him about the events still unfolding, but found his love to be focused on the scene with such a sweet expression.
A mix of satisfaction and pride shined through grey eyes, pouty lips arching in such a blinding smile it took his breath away. He was almost too distracted to focus back on the blooming courtship in front of him.
Only his curiosity moved Remus’ gaze back to his two friends, to find James recovering from the bow and offering a waiting hand to Regulus. The younger boy, now seemingly a bit more flustered under everyone’s gazes, rested the flower in James’ waiting palm.
The next part wasn’t necessarily in the ritual, but James couldn’t be blamed for stopping Regulus’ hand midair and guiding it toward him to gift a small peck to the knuckles, dark fingers contrasting with pale skin.
James seemed to refuse to let go of the boy he was now officially pursuing, and firmly held his hand as he took a step toward Regulus, to carefully nestle the daffodil in the pocket of the blue vest.
With the flower of new beginnings, Regulus had officially accepted James’ courtship in front of the whole school.
-
When Regulus woke up that morning, it was the sound of harsh whispering, his roommates already bickering at such an ungodly hour.
The boy rolled around to smush his face on the pillow with a groan, sad that sleep was already escaping him. The hissing stopped for a moment, and he let himself enjoy the quiet just enough to delude himself into thinking he could rest a bit more. Regulus should’ve known he’d wronged too many people in his life to savour some peace and quiet.
Barty opened the canopy just enough to frame his head on the material, making it look like it was floating with no body. All Regulus could do was stare at his friend, evaluating how worth it trouble for homicide would be.
Dry lips parted painfully to curse the wild haired boy out, but before he could speak, Barty interrupted him with a rushed, “There’s an invasion.”
Regulus could only blink.
“You’re not nearly panicked enough!” Barty exclaimed. “We’re being invaded, get up!”
Now, Regulus considered himself quite a rational person, so he took his time getting up, stretching a bit, and cursing his entire bloodline in his head.
Before he could really drag it on to piss Barty off even more, another tan hand ripped the curtain open. Light blinded him as he squeezed his eyes shut, but Evan’s disbelieving voice pierced through. “Which Hufflepuff have you wronged?”
It was really too early to handle them.
Rubbing his eye, Regulus pushed himself off the bed to see what this Hufflepuff curse was all about, only for his vision to be suddenly flooded with… Oh.
The usual elegant atmosphere of the dorm room, it’s usual green and silver and neutral tones, was engulfed by a hug of yellow and white, hints of orange also dotting the room. Daffodils.
Daffodils were hanging from the ceiling like lanterns, illuminating the usual cold ambience, and entire vases of them scattered all throughout the room. Regulus looked around in disbelief, trying to put everything together. This was too mild to be a prank, certainly not damaging enough for it to have malicious intent, and way too much effort to serve as just a cause for annoyance.
What would even be the purpose of such a thing?
Green eyes surveyed the room in wonder, taking in the utter care with which every flower was positioned. The more Regulus looked, the more he noticed how none of the blooms touched his roommates’ spaces: his dresser was covered in stems upon stems, his bed’s canopy looked like sunlight had been stitched on it, his shoes had smaller buds braided in the laces… Every flower looked purposeful in its positioning, showering Regulus’ possessions in bright, lively shades of yellow.
He didn’t think he’d enjoy such an overpowering colour, but he could feel his lips tug upward amidst the still reigning confusion. When could all this even have happened?
“You might want to take a look at that,” Evan’s voice interrupted his musings, and Regulus followed the Slytherins motion toward his dresser.
A carefully crafted bouquet sat on the wooden surface. The daffodils’ bright shades were softened by a spray of daffodils and delicate blue violets, luscious greenery harmoniously tying everything together. The paper, a light sandy colour to not take away the attention from the arrangement, was artfully tied together with a pretty bow. It was beautiful in it’s striking colours and evident care of the arrangement.
Flowers had meaning, Regulus knew, but before he could even focus on brushing up his knowledge, his attention fell on the small, delicate star-shaped blossom front and centre on the bow. A clematis. A signature.
Regulus’ heart swelled as he pictured a satisfied grin and honeyed eyes.
He had a declaration of intent to accept.
-
The whole school was buzzing with excitement and gossip after their display in the Great Hall, but Regulus didn’t really care. It was just easier for him to finally make it clear to everyone: James was his to keep.
Finally, because he didn’t really know how many more times he could handle staring into happy big brown eyes, all excited after interacting but not getting the message.
Regulus really couldn’t do the whole “I’ll stare at you until you understand all the nuances and underlying meanings of our interactions”, thank you very much.
And so it began, the Potter House courtship. Regulus revelled in the knowledge that everyone got to watch, as the boy who’s held his affection finally opened his eyes and started corresponding, under everyone’s envious eyes. Oh, how he liked it.
James was a delight, his company a new constant in Regulus’ life.
He could see the purposeful way the Gryffindor searched for his presence, looking to spend time together when their busy schedule allowed, and following Regulus’ every whim without blinking.
Flowers were such a big presence in his life now that library meet-ups weren’t uncommon, Regulus wanted to know every detail behind his suitor’s thought process, how he picked the species, the colour, even the number of flowers he’d receive, as well as a clear explanation of the message James wanted to convey. He never tired of listening to him speak about it, the passion and dedication in pretty amber eyes so heartwarming.
Regulus would never admit it out loud, but staring fondly while James let him take a peak in his brain was one of his favourite past times. And if one could testify for the dumb smile on his face…
After the first daffodil shower, James certainly did not let up with his efforts to impress him, and always curated such impressive bouquets, Regulus was eager to analyse the meanings conveyed and later discuss it with him.
It wasn’t unusual for James to meet him in the morning, gift in hand and a solitary flower in the other, usually the protagonist of the bunch. He’d wait for Regulus to accept the gift, so he could and appoint the flower once his hands were freed. James was so delighted every time, he’d take a step back and admire the colourful picture of Regulus surrounded by flowers.
The green eyed boy always felt so appreciated with James’ careful ministrations, but he had his favourites.
-
His December was filled with colours, Regulus delighted in the expectation of each pick, he didn’t think he’d ever appreciate so many variations and bright colour, but if there’s one thing James Potter always knew how to do, was make way in his life with new surprises.
A sunflower and iris combination awaited that morning, lively yellow perfectly matching a soft toned purple, and James’ smile put the brightness of the flowers to shame as the boy patiently waited for Regulus to approach the Great Hall doors.
“Good morning!” He exclaimed, offering the blooms. Regulus thanked him with a grateful smile, so common nowadays, and waited for James to stick the sunflower on his uniform like a brooch.
“Good morning to you, shall we head to breakfast?” The bright eyed boy nodded enthusiastically, and followed him to the Slytherin table.
Despite the initial skepticism, James had made himself space amongst his House, and worked hard to win over his friends. Regulus felt so light in the knowledge that James cared enough for him to make an effort with the important people in his life, to try and show them that he’d be treated well.
Mornings were for breakfast at the Slytherin table, every day without pause, James would join him and chat away as Regulus buttered their bread and James cut fruit for him, while at dinners they were surrounded by red and gold. The comfort of the routine made Regulus feel light, the dedication rooting his belief that he’d found the one.
Long gone was the silly teenage crush, what was once a budding feeling developed into this heart thrumming, warm blanket of blossoming love.
-
Holding a stunning combination of pink peonies and lilacs, Regulus and James made their way toward the library for their weekly debrief on floriography.
Regulus almost skipped his way to his seat, only feeling himself blush after meeting James’ fond smile. Head tucked down, he could only say, “Don’t make fun of me, I’ve waited a lot for this.”
James’ expression turned quizzical, “What do you mean by that?”.
He could feel his skin heating up at the prospect of explaining his slip up, but soldiered on. “Well, it’s not like I woke up one day and decided to drop you hints, you know,” he mumbled, eyes evading. “Even then it took you so many months to finally get the message.”
Regulus turned to James, and was taken aback by the stunned look on his face.
“Months…?” It was not something they’d talked about, the longevity of their feelings. Regulus didn’t care much, he was content in the knowledge that James was infatuated with him enough to declare himself. He was also aware of the fact that the Gryffindor wasn’t too keen on traditional courtships, probably thought them outdated, but knew Regulus enough to follow the necessary steps.
“Yes?” The Slytherin was a surprised at the disbelief, “I didn’t even bother hiding it after the first couple of weeks, why are you so-” James’ loud bark of laughter startled him, as well as the students surrounding them.
Regulus stared at the way the mop of dark hair met two hands, and James rubbed his face. “Oh, I can’t believe it, we could’ve started this so long ago!” The words didn’t register for a moment, but Regulus slowly put the pieces together.
“How long ago, exactly?” He tried to keep his tone low, body moving toward James, but it only served to push the words out in a hiss. And, fine, you know what, ten situation called for hissing.
“Oh, I would’ve been ready in like, fourth year?” He laughed again, disbelieving, “I’m grateful it’s now though, I would have hated for you to not get a proper-” he started, finally turning to Regulus, “Why are you making that face?”
Really, Regulus could picture quite well the expression his face had taken, a weird mix of horrified and amused. This man was so full of surprises.
Sharing a still amused smile, “We’re here now. That’s enough for me.”
-
Regulus was swapping the water for his most recent gift, a composition of hyacinths and snapdragons, when he heard knocking on the door.
Both of his roommates were out, and they’d just barge in anyway, so he let an anticipating smile grace his lips as he walked toward the sound. James stood in front of him, ruffled hair and weekend clothes, blinding smile and welcoming eyes.
“Hi,” James breathed, “I thought we could take a walk if you’re up for it.”
It wouldn’t be a crazy request, if it wasn’t for the disastrous amount of snow that had fallen during the night. Regulus looked at the Gryffindor with arched eyebrows, but found himself still nodding at the request. He was a weak, weak man after all, he’d do just about anything to see the excitement sparkling on James’ face.
James seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, “Before we go,” he muttered, and took a step closer.
Regulus felt his breath hitch as James reached out and tucked wild curls behind his ear, hand warm against his cheek. He was so distracted by the contact, he didn’t even notice the petals, until strong hands slipped from his cheek to fall on his shoulders.
James turned him around, and Regulus belatedly realised it was to make him face the mirror. “This colour suits you,” he murmured, fingers swiping back the stubborn curls on the other side. Only then, he noticed the beautiful cherry red of the flower adorning his dark hair. A camellia.
How could Regulus focus on the flower when the sight of James pressing his chest to his back, tan hands resting on his shoulders and dark head of hair lowered to level with Regulus’ face was so distracting. Regulus watched as the content smile resting on the Gryffindor’s lips pushed his cheekbones high enough that glasses moved as dark eyes crinkled, staring right at him through the mirror.
Regulus could see the blush colour his cheeks, and James giggle didn’t make it better, “Look, now you’re matching!”
Furrowing his brows in faux anger did nothing to stop the happy, warm tingling. It only served to make him turn around hold James’ face with his hand, and brush soft lips on his cheek.
Regulus stepped away nonchalantly, throwing a “you coming?” Over his shoulder.
The sight of a blubbering James, trying to compose himself, was well worth the embarrassment.
That, and the cold snow sneaked into his clothes after the snow fight he found himself in. Regulus realised a bit late, it had been all Sirius’ plan, a bit of a ruse to ambush him with other students having fun in the dreary weather.
The fact that it was so clear he wouldn’t say no to James was a bit unsettling, but the easy smile and messy wild hair inspired too much trust.
At least he got to plummet his brother and make him regret his choices.
-
As the last day before winter break was fast approaching, Regulus found himself spending more and more time with James, to the point where one day he finally convinced the Gryffindor to show him where, exactly, he stashed all those flowers. They didn’t have that big of a magical trace, so they obviously weren’t magically conjured. He was so curious to see who his flower dealer was.
It wasn’t too surprising that James lead him right toward the greenhouses.
What was surprising, was crossing a threshold and seeing a disillusionment charm melt away, giving way to an oasis. Shelves upon shelves of growing flowers, plots of luscious green with the most colourful tones, such variety of shapes and dimensions. The utter dedication it must have taken to develop such a paradise.
Regulus really tried to shake awake from his stupor, but the feeling of bewildered joy pervading his body was too strong to allow it. With timid steps, he let go of James’ hand to walk closer to the blooming hydrangeas. He caressed the pinks and blues and whites of the petals, thinking of their meaning, and how it perfectly applied to what was welling in his chest: sincere, heartfelt sentiment, and gratitude.
Regulus was overwhelmed with the feeling of gratitude, it made his tongue thick and eyes sting.
He turned around, only to see James had stayed where he left him, hands in his pockets, observing with a sweet smile how Regulus took everything in.
“This must’ve taken you a lot of effort,” was the only thing to come out of anxiously bitten lips. Having the demonstration of James’ dedication to this courtship right in front of him wasn’t overwhelming, exactly, but Regulus couldn’t really describe the feeling surging into him.
The doubt wasn’t something he allowed himself to wallow in, but sometime he was trapped, stuck in late night musings. But this? This showed him exactly how much what he’d seen in their library meet ups was just a hint of the passion James had poured into them. Regulus was speechless.
“Yeah, I mean it wasn’t all that hard to be honest,” James started, hand fiddling with the hair on his nape, looking around, “Really, I just worked up the courage to ask Professor McGonagall if we could talk to Professor Sprout about it, and they both came up with the idea to consider it extra credit.”
He let out a nervous laugh, before continuing his rushed speech, words falling on top of each other “And then I studied a lot, you know, and I wrote to my parents about the seeds. They mailed them to me and I started working in here when I could make time, and you know. It’s a magical greenhouse, so seasons weren’t a problem and the timings were reduced because, again, magic, and taking care of them all is nice an you are nice so it’s really just a matter of-”
Whatever he could say was muffled by soft, soft lips.
James wasn’t paying the slightest attention to Regulus’ movements amidst his ramblings, but now he could clearly feel cold hands gripping his collar to lower him.
James didn’t let the surprise linger, and rested one of his hands on icy fingers, the other going straight toward Regulus’ cheek, thumb caressing it.
It was soft, and it was sweet, and everything James could’ve wanted from their first.
Breathing was unfortunately still necessary, and James cursed his human needs, but he just took the occasion to move Regulus’ hands to his neck, his own falling on his waist.
There, forehead to forehead, honeyed eyes met beautiful green. James had grown and seen many flowers up until now, but the carefree expression and smile blooming on Regulus’ lips overpowered every single one.
He’d pick out dahlias for him, before leaving.