Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

CHAPTER ONE

The soft glow of the museum's lights bathed the hall in an elegant and refined ambiance, casting long shadows across the towering abstract sculptures and canvas masterpieces that decorated the walls. Regulus, Evan, and Barty walked leisurely between the displays, their footsteps light on the polished floors. Regulus, of course, was in his element, his eyes alight with fascination as he observed the artwork with a level of appreciation that seemed almost reverent.

"I still don’t get it," Barty muttered, eyeing a particularly strange painting of swirling shapes that looked more like a child's finger-painting than something that should be hung in a museum. "Why does this one have so many... colors?"

"That’s because it’s a statement , Barty," Evan teased, leaning in to point at the piece with exaggerated sophistication. "The artist is expressing chaos. The lack of order is deliberate."

Barty raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I don't get it. Looks like someone went a little wild with their crayons." He winced slightly, glancing at his feet. "And these shoes—bloody hell, my feet are killing me."

Regulus chuckled, his eyes narrowing as he studied the piece more intently, his fingers lightly tracing the air in front of him, as if drawing invisible lines. "It’s not about the literal chaos, Barty. It’s about the emotion it evokes. It’s supposed to feel like a storm in your chest."

"You and your high-falutin’ explanations," Barty teased, nudging Evan. "He’s just trying to make it sound fancier than it is."

Evan smirked, running a hand through his hair. "I’m with Regulus. I think it’s quite... poetic." He turned his attention to another painting that looked no less confusing, but more intriguing. "Now, this one," he said, pointing to a canvas that featured stark lines and geometric shapes, "this one I can get behind. It’s clean, organized... efficient."

Regulus grinned at his boyfriend’s analytical take, before his gaze returned to the artwork. "I knew you’d like that one. But that’s the thing about art—it’s not meant to always be understood. It’s about how it makes you feel."

"Can we feel that my feet are killing me?" Barty asked, glancing down at his shoes with clear displeasure.

Regulus rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smile on his lips. "Fine. Let’s keep going."

The trio wandered deeper into the gallery, Regulus continuing to explain the pieces in detail, while Evan alternated between teasing and offering his own thoughts. They were perfectly content in their own little world, one where time seemed to slow down and everything felt effortless.

After what felt like hours, the trio decided to take a break. Barty, now fully fed up with the museum, plopped down on a nearby bench. "I’m done," he groaned. "My feet hate me, and I’m starting to feel like I’m going to pass out from all this culture. Let’s just find somewhere to sit, huh?"

Regulus glanced down at his watch. "It’s almost closing time anyway. I think we’ve seen everything."

Evan gave a mischievous grin. "I’d say we’ve seen enough. So, how about ditching the bodyguards and going for something... spontaneous?"

"You’re always such a bad influence," Regulus murmured with a grin of his own. "I’m in."

The three of them snuck out of the back exit of the museum, their ever-present bodyguards momentarily distracted. They made their way down a narrow street, laughing quietly as they avoided detection. After a while, they found themselves in a small park, the autumn breeze chilling their skin as they strolled under the bare trees.

"This is better," Barty remarked with satisfaction, taking a deep breath. "Fresh air, just us."

Regulus smiled, his eyes softened as he glanced at Evan and Barty. "I agree. It’s nice to have some peace."

Unfortunately, their peace was short-lived. As they continued to walk through the park, dark clouds began to gather overhead, a sudden storm threatening to ruin their little adventure.

Barty groaned. "I knew we shouldn’t have left without an umbrella."

Evan looked up, watching the sky with narrowed eyes. "Too late for that now. We should head to shelter."

Regulus, ever the optimist, didn’t seem as worried. "We’ll find somewhere." He scanned the area and, after a moment, grinned. "I see something."

They quickly made their way to the building in the distance—a small, cozy-looking Mexican restaurant, its neon sign buzzing with life.

"Are you serious?" Barty asked, eyeing the establishment. "A restaurant? It's barely four."

Regulus shrugged. "Better than getting soaked, right?"

The rain started to pour just as they reached the entrance, and the trio dashed inside, collapsing into the nearest booth. Water dripped from their hair, clothes, and shoes, and they all looked a bit ridiculous in their soaked state.

Evan wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked around. "This is cozy."

Barty plopped down on the bench with an exaggerated sigh. "I can’t believe we’re sitting in a Mexican restaurant, soaked to the bone. What happened to our elegant night at the museum?"

Regulus laughed, shaking his hair out. "Sometimes, the best moments happen when things go wrong."

"Yeah, well, if you ask me," Barty muttered, crossing his arms, "the best part was running away from our bodyguards."

Regulus chuckled softly as he settled back against the booth. "This will be interesting."

The trio settled into their booth, a small round table tucked into a corner by a large window. They’d barely managed to dry off as the rain continued to pour outside, and now, a menu lay in front of each of them, offering a variety of tempting dishes. Despite the peculiar setting, the restaurant’s warmth and inviting atmosphere were comforting.

Barty flicked through the menu with interest. "Everything looks pretty good."

Regulus chuckled beside him, "Of course, it is. It's Mexican food."

Evan grinned, "Regulus, you can't handle spic."

"Oh, shut it." He groaned.

They continued to browse, discussing what they were in the mood for. Just as Barty was about to make a snide comment about the tacos, the waiter approached their table.

James, dressed in a crisp black uniform with a neat apron, stood just behind the table, a notepad in hand. He opened his mouth to speak but froze when he saw the three of them, his eyes momentarily wide before he quickly masked it with his usual professionalism.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he began, but his voice wavered slightly, as if something had caught in his throat. He cleared it quickly, but his gaze lingered on them for a beat longer than was perhaps appropriate. The blush creeping up his neck was unmistakable. "I’ll be your server tonight."

Regulus raised an eyebrow, exchanging a subtle glance with Evan and Barty, who were both clearly amused. His nervous energy was palpable, his fingers trembling slightly as he took down their orders.

James quickly regained his composure, despite his flushed cheeks, and rushed to finish his greeting. "Can I start you all off with something to drink? Or anything to begin with?" His words tumbled out faster than he intended, and when he met their eyes again, his gaze was more flustered than he would’ve liked.

"Just water for me," Regulus said with a half-smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he and his friends were having on the poor boy.

"Water's fine for me as well," Evan added, his voice smooth as always, though there was an amused sparkle in his eye as he studied James.

Barty, sitting with his arms crossed, gave James a half-innocent, half-devious smile. "I’ll have a coke, love."

James flustered further at the sudden pet name, his cheeks burning as he scribbled down the orders, his hand visibly shaking now. "Of course," he muttered, before finally tearing his gaze away and practically sprinting towards the kitchen.

The moment James was out of earshot, the trio erupted into laughter.

"Did you see how red he got?" Regulus laughed, leaning back in his seat with an amused grin. "It’s adorable."

"God, he’s so cute," Evan remarked, his voice light with laughter. "I think he practically melted when he saw us. Poor thing. Didn’t know what hit him."

Barty smirked, leaning in closer to his two partners. "You know, I think he’s a bit of a cutie. He’s got that nervous puppy energy. Definitely wouldn’t mind seeing more of him."

Regulus raised an eyebrow. "You’re already thinking about him like that? God, Barty."

Barty clicked his tongue. "He's also very attractive. Don’t you think?" He leaned back in his seat, eyes glinting. "I think we should have some fun with him. What do you two think? Let’s tease him a bit. Keep him on his toes."

Evan grinned widely. "I like that idea. I can’t remember the last time I saw someone get so flustered. He looked like he was about to pass out."

"Poor thing," Regulus said with a smirk, "but I’m sure he’ll survive."

Evan chuckled, resting his chin on his hand. "Oh, I’m definitely on board with that. I want to see how much it takes to make him crumble. He won’t know what hit him."

Regulus shot them both a sly look. "You two are horrible. Let's do it."

A few minutes later, James returned with their drinks, his hands a little less shaky but his cheeks still slightly pink. He placed the drinks down carefully, trying not to make eye contact for too long. His nerves were still obvious, but he was doing his best to remain professional.

"Here you go," James said softly, his voice lower now, as though he was trying to hide his nerves. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Regulus, ever the smooth talker, gave him a knowing look. "Actually, Angel," he said sweetly, "I think we’re going to need you to keep an eye on us. I’m sure we’ll have many more questions about the menu."

James blinked, a moment of stunned silence before he nodded awkwardly. "Of course. Anything you need." He quickly turned to walk away, but not before hearing Evan’s teasing voice.

"Take your time, Sunshine. We’re in no rush."

James made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a nervous squeak before hurrying off to another table.

Once he was gone, the trio burst into laughter again.

"God, I love this," Barty said with a grin. "He’s adorable. This is going to be fun ."

Regulus, who was still watching James, couldn't hide the mischievous smile that tugged at his lips. "I think we're going to enjoy this way too much."

"Absolutely." Evan agreed, his voice low with amusement. "I might want to keep him around."

"Let’s see how much more we can make him blush first," Barty said, leaning back with a smirk, "Then we’ll decide if we want to keep him."

The group exchanged a look, all three of them savoring the fun that was about to unfold. And in the back of their minds, they were already planning how they would make James their next little game to play.

The trio could hardly believe how good the food was. Their plates were completely clear, and the flavors still lingered in their minds. As they leaned back in their seats, half in disbelief and half in awe, they exchanged glances, clearly impressed.

"Okay," Barty said, breaking the silence. "That was incredible."

Regulus smirked, crossing his arms. "I told you this place would be worth it."

Barty rolled his eyes but chuckled. "I knew it would be good, but these are life-changing tacos."

Evan leaned forward, his gaze focused on the kitchen door. "I’m more interested in seeing our little Angel again. Why'd he make himself scarce?"

Just as he said this, James reappeared, the same adorable, slightly flustered look in his eyes as he approached their table. He cleared his throat softly, glancing at the empty plates in surprise.

"Um, did you enjoy everything?" he asked, his voice barely concealing his nerves.

Regulus couldn’t resist smiling. "Oh, Sunshine, it was the best meal we’ve had in ages."

James’ blush deepened, but he tried to stay composed. "I-I’m glad to hear that. Is there… anything else I can get you?"

Barty’s eyes lit up as he exchanged a look with Evan and Regulus. "Well, Angel, since you’re asking," he said, leaning in with a sly grin, "we were thinking about ordering another course."

James blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Another?"

"Yes, Doll," Evan chimed in, his voice teasing and smooth. "We trust your opinion, so what would you recommend?"

James hesitated, visibly flustered, his gaze flicking between the three of them. "Oh, um… well, the enchiladas are really popular, and the birria tacos are one of my favorites. But, honestly, everything’s great."

Regulus leaned his chin on his hand, studying James with an amused glint in his eyes. "The birria tacos, huh? Would you say they’re as good as that last dish we had, Bambi?"

James nodded quickly, his eyes lighting up as he spoke. "Absolutely! They’re my go-to, actually. And the seasoning is really something special."

Evan chuckled. "If they’re good enough for you, Love, then we’re convinced."

Barty nodded enthusiastically. "You heard the man, Angel. We’ll go with the birria tacos, then."

James scribbled down the order, trying to hide his growing smile as he focused on his notepad. "Great choice," he managed to say, clearly flustered. "I’ll… I’ll get that started for you right away."

As he walked away, cheeks still pink, the trio exchanged knowing smirks.

"Poor thing," Regulus murmured, watching him disappear into the kitchen. "He looked like he was about to combust."

Evan chuckled. "And he’s all ours to fluster. Isn’t it adorable?"

Barty grinned. "Beyond adorable. I can’t remember the last time I met someone who’s this… well, interesting."

"Interesting, huh?" Regulus raised an eyebrow. 

Evan sighed, a playful glint in his eyes. "He’s too pure for this world. We’d be fools not to take an interest."

Barty smirked, leaning forward. "I say, when he brings the check, we ask for his number."

Regulus raised an eyebrow, a little skeptical. "You’re getting ahead of yourself, Barty. We just met him."

Evan rolled his eyes, nudging Regulus playfully. "Come on, Reggie. Don’t tell me you’re not interested. You saw the way he looked at us. He’s practically begging for it."

Regulus hesitated, glancing at the kitchen door again. "I’m just saying… he’s the first person who’s caught our attention like this. He must be special."

"Exactly," Barty said, leaning back with a grin. "We’d be crazy not to take a chance."

Evan put a hand on Regulus’ shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. "Think about it. I think we all know that this guy’s got something. Don’t you think?"

Regulus sighed, a small smile forming on his lips. "Fine. We’ll ask him for his number when he brings the check. But if he says no, you two are on your own."

Barty and Evan exchanged triumphant grins, their eyes gleaming with excitement.

Evan chuckled. "Oh, he’s not saying no. Not to us."

Just then, James returned with the second course, the scent of the tacos filling the surrounding air. He set the plates down, glancing up at them with a soft, slightly nervous smile.

"Here you go," he said, his voice a little more confident now. "Enjoy."

Regulus offered him a warm smile. "Thank you, Baby. These look amazing."

James’ cheeks turned pink again, and he muttered a quick “you’re welcome” before darting off again, the trio watching him go with equal parts amusement and anticipation.

James had been preparing for this moment for the past fifteen minutes, rehearsing his exit lines in his head as he approached their table with the check in hand. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could’ve prepared him for the intensity of three pairs of eyes fixed directly on him, watching his every step. He did his best to muster up a smile, holding the check with slightly shaky fingers.

“Thank you for dining with us,” he began, a little breathless. “I hope you enjoyed everything and—um, I’ll just leave this here for you.”

He was about to set the check down when he felt a hand—thin and cold—wrap around his wrist, holding him in place. James froze, heart thudding wildly in his chest as he looked up to find Regulus staring at him with a smirk.

“Not so fast, Love,” Evan murmured, his voice low and purring.

James’ breath hitched, and for an embarrassingly long seven seconds, he forgot how to breathe entirely. Regulus’ grip on his wrist tightened, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine, and his gaze was unwavering.

“Breathe, Baby Boy,” Regulus murmured softly, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “We’re not finished with you just yet.”

Barty leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him as he watched James with a faint smile. “We were hoping,” he began, the amusement in his tone unmistakable, “that you might leave us with a little something to remember you by.”

James blinked, struggling to process the words. “S-Something to remember me by?” he echoed, voice coming out in a whisper.

Regulus leaned in, their fingers still intertwined, his dark gaze locked onto James’ face. “Your number, Sunshine. We’d like your number.”

James’ mouth went dry, and he felt his cheeks flush. “M-My number?” he stammered, his eyes darting between the three of them. “Oh. Um—yes, of course. I just—um—one second.”

He began fumbling around, looking for a pen, but his hands were trembling too much to focus. Before he could continue his search, Evan held one out to him, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“Here you go, Bambi,” Evan said, his voice soft and almost teasing. “No need to be shy.”

“Right,” James murmured, taking the pen from him with an embarrassed smile. He glanced down at the napkin he’d brought with him and quickly scrawled his number across it, his handwriting slightly messy from his nervousness. He slid it across the table, fingers lingering a moment too long.

Regulus took the napkin, glancing at the numbers as if committing them to memory. He then looked up, his smile soft but somehow more intense than before. “Thank you, Doll.”

James felt his heart skip a beat, his mind racing. “Y-You’re welcome.”

“Do you know how adorable you look when you’re nervous, baby?” Evan asked, his voice low and rich with amusement. “You’re practically glowing.”

James choked on his breath.

Regulus, still holding his wrist, gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “We'll text you.”

James’ heart fluttered, and he glanced down at their intertwined hands, his blush deepening. “I—um, I should probably get back to work.”

Barty smiled, letting out a soft chuckle. “Don’t forget us too soon, yeah?”

“Not a chance,” James whispered, almost to himself, then straightened up, nodding. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

As he turned to leave, he couldn’t help but glance back one last time, finding them watching him with a mixture of amusement and interest that sent a thrill through him.

And with a deep breath, he hurried back toward the kitchen, his heart racing, a small smile tugging at his lips as he replayed every word they’d said.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWO

James was just about to turn off his phone when it vibrated, a new message from an unknown number popping up on his screen. Blinking at the late hour, he opened it, and his eyes widened slightly. He’d been added to a group chat—three numbers he didn’t recognize.

Unknown Number #1: Hey, Sunshine ;) Guess who?

Unknown Number #2: Bet you didn’t expect us this soon, did you, Angel?

Unknown Number #3: Don’t worry, Bambi, it’s us—the three who couldn’t stop bothering you tonight.

James stared at the messages, brows furrowing. They’d kept their names anonymous at the restaurant, and he felt a flicker of suspicion.

He hesitated, then typed a careful reply.

James: I’m… not sure who you are.

Unknown Number #3: Awww, come on, Doll. You don’t recognize us already? I’m hurt.

Unknown Number #1: Don’t worry, love. We wouldn’t forget you so easily.

James glanced at the messages, feeling that now-familiar blush creeping up his neck. Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he bit his lip, typing slowly.

James: Are you guys the ones who ordered the enchiladas, the carnitas tacos, and the chilaquiles verdes?

Unknown Number #2: Bingo. Knew you’d remember, Angel.

Unknown Number #1: We’re impressed, Sunshine. But we should’ve told you our names earlier. Sorry about that.

James’ curiosity got the better of him as he replied, wondering if this really could be the three boys from the restaurant.

James: It’s okay. I… wasn’t sure it was you at first. I still don't know your names. 

A moment later, his phone buzzed again, and this time, a picture loaded onto his screen. James opened it, and his eyes widened as he took in the sight. Regulus, Evan, and Barty were all in the frame, looking smug. James hated how much he didn't hate that. Regulus had his chin resting on his hand, his expression cool and intense. Evan leaned casually against him, his grin playful, while Barty sat between them, smirking. They looked far too good for his sanity.

James quickly pressed a hand over his mouth, trying to hide the grin breaking across his face.

Unknown Number #1: So, just to make things clear— I’m Regulus. On the left.

Unknown Number #2: I’m Evan, Angel. In the middle. Nice to officially meet you.

Unknown Number #3: And I’m Barty, Baby Boy. Got that memorized now?

James typed back, trying to steady his fingers as he saved their names in his contacts.

James: Okay, yeah. I think I’ll remember this time.

Evan: Good, Angel. We’d hate for you to forget us.

Barty: And hey, since we’re all on a first-name basis now, you can relax. We don’t bite. Much.

Evan: Not unless you ask us to, Sunshine.

James couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head at the screen.

James: Are you always like this?

Evan: Yes. I've been suffering.

Barty: Can’t help ourselves, Baby Boy. You’re fun to tease.

Regulus: Goodnight, Love. Sweet dreams.

James lay back against his pillow, the grin on his face lingering even after he’d turned off his phone, heart pounding as he replayed their words in his head.

James stretched, groggy-eyed, as he reached for his phone. His sleepiness vanished almost instantly as he saw a group text from the three nobles pop up on his screen.

Evan: Good morning, Angel. Hope you slept well.

Regulus: Morning, Sunshine.

Barty: Rise and shine, Bambi! Hope you’re ready for us to bother you all day.

James bit his lip, feeling warmth bloom across his face as he read their messages. Each one had used a different pet name, not a single one actually calling him by his real name. Come to think of it…did they even know his real name?

A small smirk appeared on his face as he typed a reply, unable to resist poking a little fun.

James: Wait a minute…do you guys even know my real name?

A few seconds passed, and then his phone pinged with three new messages. James opened them one by one, and immediately burst out laughing.

Evan had sent a screenshot of his contact, which read simply, Angel with '<3' beside it.

Regulus had his contact saved as Sunshine, no emojis, just clean and to the point, very Regulus.

Barty, naturally, had him saved as Bambi, with a little brown heart emoji beside it.

James could barely breathe from laughing as he quickly typed back.

James: You guys seriously don’t know my name?! I can’t believe this.

Evan: We know it’s Angel, obviously.

Barty: Or Bambi.

Regulus: Or Sunshine. Depends on who you’re asking.

James: Nope. Those aren’t even close. Guess you’ll have to live in suspense.

Barty: Aw, come on, Baby Boy. Don’t make us beg.

Evan: Please, Love?

James grinned, leaning back in his bed. He could feel a little thrill at being the one in control for once. They’d flustered him so easily yesterday; it was about time he had a little fun of his own.

James: Nope. Not telling.

Regulus: Sunshine, don’t be difficult.

James: Who, me? Never.

Evan: Are you really gonna make us guess, Angel?

James: Guess all you want. I’m not telling.

James was definitely abusing this newfound power, but he didn't really care. He found no problem with hiding behind a screen.

Barty: Okay, love. You’re in for it next time we see you. Just wait.

James: Ooo, I’m so scared.

Evan: You should be. We don’t take kindly to secrets.

James: Then maybe you should’ve asked sooner.

Regulus: Fine, Sunshine. Have it your way. But I promise we’ll find out.

James chuckled, rolling his eyes. He could practically feel their frustration through the screen.

James: Good luck with that. But for now…you’ll just have to keep calling me all those ridiculous names.

Barty: Ridiculous? Angel, you wound us.

Evan: Careful, Love. Don’t make us change your contact to something embarrassing.

Regulus: Not that we’d need to. Sunshine suits you perfectly.

James: Flattery will get you nowhere. My lips are sealed.

Barty: Fine, keep your secrets. Just remember, you can’t hide behind your phone forever.

James: Looking forward to seeing you try.

He set his phone down with a grin, heart pounding a little faster as he imagined what their next meeting would bring.

The dining room in Evan’s family estate was elegantly set, bathed in soft, warm light, with the delicate clinking of silverware against porcelain and the murmur of conversation filling the air. Evan, Regulus, and Barty sat beside each other, each trying and failing to suppress little grins, exchanging secret glances that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the others around the table.

Pandora, Evan’s twin sister, looked at them suspiciously, one brow arched as she tapped her finger against her wine glass. “Alright, you three,” she said with a smirk. “What’s got you looking so smug?”

Sirius, seated across from the trio, snorted, crossing his arms. “Yeah, you’re all weirdly chipper. Care to share the joke?”

Evan put on his best innocent face, shrugging. “Joke? There’s no joke. Just enjoying a lovely dinner with family,” he said, casting a quick sideways glance at Regulus and Barty, who both nodded a bit too enthusiastically.

“Uh-huh,” Pandora said, unconvinced. 

Barty cleared his throat, flashing an exaggerated smile. “Really, Pandora, it’s nothing. We’re just happy, you know? Grateful to be here.”

Regulus chimed in, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, just a good mood, that’s all.”

Evan’s mother, seated at the head of the table, eyed them with a smile, though her gaze held a mix of warmth and curiosity. “Well, I’m glad to see you three looking so cheerful. It’s nice to see some lightness at the table.”

Evan’s father, however, took the opportunity to turn the conversation a bit more serious. He set down his fork, looking at the trio with a pointed expression. “On the topic of your activities…you three do realize that ditching your bodyguards isn’t acceptable, right?”

The trio exchanged sheepish glances.

Barty shrugged, half-smiling. “We just wanted some space, Mr. Rosier.”

Regulus nodded. “We weren’t trying to worry anyone. We needed a breather.”

Evan’s mother sighed, her expression softening but remaining firm. “It’s not just about us being worried, boys. The bodyguards are there for a reason. You’re high-profile targets. Between the paparazzi and other people who may not have good intentions…”

Evan rolled his eyes, but a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Mum, we can handle ourselves.”

Sirius, however, leaned forward, his gaze zeroing in on Regulus with a fierce protectiveness. “Reg,” he started, voice low but unyielding, “you might think it’s just annoying security, but it’s there to keep you safe. It’s not a game.”

Regulus met his brother’s gaze, feeling a familiar tug in his chest. Sirius had always been his protector, from their rough childhood to their escape from their parents. He knew Sirius wasn’t saying this to control him—he was saying it out of care.

“I know, Sirius,” Regulus murmured, looking down at his plate. “I’m sorry. I promise we won’t do it again.”

Sirius’s face softened slightly, and he reached over to give Regulus’s shoulder a squeeze. “Good. I just don’t want anything happening to you, okay?”

Regulus nodded, giving his brother a small smile. “Okay.”

Evan sighed, leaning back in his chair with a resigned grin. “Alright, alright. We get it. Next time we’ll stay put with the guards. Happy?”

Evan’s father gave a short nod, his expression relaxing as he picked up his fork again. “That’s all we ask. Just be careful.”

The table’s atmosphere gradually lightened again, and Pandora chimed in, her tone teasing. “Alright, mystery solved. Now we can enjoy the meal without worrying you’re all plotting a secret coup or something.”

Barty chuckled, sending her a wink. “Come on, Pandora, we’re far too charming for that.”

“Charming and reckless,” Sirius muttered, but his tone had softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked at Regulus, who nudged him playfully.

As the dinner conversation wound down, Regulus cleared his throat and looked over at Evan’s parents, Axel and Adele, with a hopeful gleam in his eye. “Would it be alright if we went out for lunch tomorrow? We’ll keep the bodyguards with us, of course.”

Adele glanced at Axel, who gave her a slight nod. She turned back to Regulus, smiling warmly. “If you bring the bodyguards, then yes, that should be fine.”

The trio shared a smirk. They knew exactly where they were going.

The next day, as they strolled into the restaurant, they spotted James at the far end of the room. His eyes widened as he saw them, and his hands shot to his name tag, which he yanked off with a little grin, slipping it into his apron pocket before any of them could catch a glimpse.

“Playing hard to get, are we?” Barty murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes as they approached their table.

James managed to compose himself, flashing them a polite smile as he led them to the same booth they’d sat at the previous day. “Right this way, gentlemen.”

Once they were seated, James took a breath, looking directly at each of them. “Regulus,” he said, nodding to him, “Evan,” and then to Barty, “Barty.” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself for remembering their names. “What can I get for you today?”

Evan leaned back in his seat, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, so our little angel remembers us,” he murmured, eyes glinting.

James blinked, blushing slightly but holding his ground. “Just trying to be professional,” he replied, though his voice wavered.

“Professional, hmm?” Regulus leaned forward, his gaze intense. “Are you sure that’s all it is, sunshine?”

James swallowed, his cheeks heating up. “What would you like to order?” he asked, hoping to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

Barty chuckled, exchanging a look with the other two. “We’ll each try something new today. What do you recommend, angel?”

James hesitated, momentarily thrown off by the pet name. “For starters, the loaded nachos are my favorite.”

“Perfect. Then we'll have the loaded nachos, Bambi,” Regulus said, the nickname slipping off his tongue smoothly, making James’s eyes widen.

James scribbled down the order, his face blushing, which did not go unnoticed by the trio.

“Everything alright, doll?” Barty asked, the endearment dripping with sweetness. “You look a bit distracted.”

James felt his cheeks burn as he fumbled with his pen, finally managing a faint nod. “I’m fine. Just… busy day.”

Barty smirked. “That’s a shame, because we were hoping you’d have time to sit with us a bit,” he murmured. “We’d love to get to know you better.”

“Oh, I, um— I’m not allowed to sit with guests,” James stammered, taking a step back as he clutched his notepad to his chest.

Regulus tilted his head, watching him intently. “What a pity. But don’t worry, angel, we’ll keep coming back until we’re regulars.” His words held a hint of a promise, making James’s stomach flip.

“I-I’ll go put your order in,” James said quickly, spinning around and almost tripping in his haste to escape.

As soon as he was out of earshot, the trio burst into quiet laughter.

“Did you see the look on his face?” Evan whispered, shaking his head.

“Poor thing,” Regulus replied, a small, satisfied smirk on his face.

“Guess he thought he could have the upper hand.” Barty chuckled.

James returned with their meals, trying his best to keep a straight face, but the moment he caught their eyes, his blush returned full force. “Here you are,” he said, setting each plate down in front of them.

As he served the last plate, Barty tilted his head, watching James’s face closely. “Thank you, baby boy. You always take such good care of us.”

“Y-You’re welcome,” James stammered, straightening up. “Enjoy your meal.”

“Oh, we will, angel,” Evan murmured, eyes never leaving James’s face as he took his seat. “But we’re sure you already knew that.”

James’s resolve faltered under their steady, flirtatious gazes, but he managed a quick nod before retreating. As he walked away, he could still feel their eyes on him, and when he glanced back, all three were watching him, wearing matching smirks that promised he wouldn’t be getting the last word anytime soon.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THREE

As James approached the table with the check, he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the table, determined not to make eye contact. But he could still feel their gazes, piercing and amused, lingering on him. He could sense that smirk playing on Barty’s face before he even looked up.

“Angel,” Barty’s voice was soft, playful, as he reached out and let his fingers lightly trail down James's arm, sending a shiver down his spine. “Avoiding us now, are you?”

James swallowed, forcing himself to breathe as Barty’s fingers lingered, warm and feather-light. “Just… trying to be quick. Don’t want to hold up your day.”

“Oh, you’re no trouble at all, love,” Evan replied, leaning back with an amused glint in his eye.

“Look at me, sunshine.” Regulus’s voice was a quiet command. Reluctantly, James lifted his eyes to meet his, feeling his cheeks heat under Regulus’s intense gaze.

“There you go,” Regulus murmured, a small approving smile tugging at the corner of his lips. James flushed under the praise, feeling his skin prickle with embarrassment and something else he couldn’t quite place.

Regulus’s gaze never wavered. “What day do you have off, angel?” he asked softly, a touch of mischief in his tone.

“Uh… Sundays,” James managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Evan smirked, exchanging a look with the other two. “Perfect. We’ll pick you up at 10 AM, baby boy.”

James’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?” he stammered, feeling his stomach flip. “Wh-Where are we going?”

Barty chuckled, the sound rich and teasing, his fingers lightly brushing over James’s arm again. “Ah, but where’s the fun in telling you now, Bambi?” he teased, his gaze dancing with mischief.

Regulus leaned forward, fixing James with a smirk that was somehow both playful and challenging. “Tell us your name, sunshine. Then we might consider letting you in on our plans.”

James frowned, stubbornly clenching his jaw. “Not telling,” he huffed, pulling himself together as he moved to turn away.

As he walked back to the kitchen, he could hear their low laughter behind him, murmuring back and forth.

“Aw, he's pouting.” Evan mused, a chuckle in his voice. “Precious.”

Barty snickered. “Poor thing's being tormented.”

Regulus’s smile grew softer, almost fond. “I think he likes it.” He glanced down at the check James had left, eyes lingering on the pen marks where he’d written a little ‘Thank you!’ on the edge. “I’m sure of it.”

As James rounded the corner, he couldn’t help but bite back a smile, his heart fluttering as he thought about tomorrow—wondering just what he’d signed up for.

James checked the time on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time that morning: 9:46. He smoothed his hands over his shirt, frowning at the fabric. It was oversized, frayed in places, a secondhand find from ages ago. He had no nice clothes—not the kind he thought he should be wearing for a date. Especially not with guys like Regulus, Evan, and Barty, who seemed… well, out of his league. The thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably, a reminder that he hadn’t eaten since Friday.

He looked at himself in the mirror, scrutinizing every detail. Why would they be interested in me? He thought, chewing on his lip. They were attractive, charming, and clearly wealthy. Maybe this is all just a joke. He told himself, the doubt creeping in. Maybe they’re messing with me.

He took a deep breath, pushing down the worries that threatened to overwhelm him. He’d made it this far. Turning on his heel, he left his room, stepping outside to find the three of them waiting, standing by a car that made James freeze.

Oh, he thought, staring at the vehicle, that’s expensive.

The car was sleek, polished, and expensive-looking, a stark reminder of just how different their lives were. James tried to keep his expression neutral, but anxiety seeped through, flashing across his face for just a moment. They must be filthy rich. His shoulders tensed, and he suddenly felt smaller, more out of place.

“Angel,” Regulus’s voice was soft, and before he knew it, Regulus was stepping toward him, reaching out to take his hand. “Hey, you alright?” His hand was warm, his fingers lacing with James’s in a gentle, grounding touch.

James nodded quickly, looking down at their hands, forcing a small smile. “Yeah, I’m… I’m good.”

Regulus’s gaze lingered on him for a second longer, clearly noticing the tension but choosing not to push. He squeezed James’s hand reassuringly and led him toward the car, guiding him into the backseat.

“Comfortable, Bambi?” Barty asked from the front seat, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched James settle in.

James managed a nod, trying not to gape as he took in the luxury interior. “Uh, yeah,” he replied, though his voice came out softer than he’d intended.

“Good,” Evan said, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. “We’ve got a big day planned for you, baby.”

James’s cheeks warmed at the nickname, his nerves and insecurities momentarily forgotten. The three of them looked back at him, their expressions filled with a mix of mischief and warmth, making him feel both incredibly flustered and undeniably cared for.

The four of them stepped into the cozy cat café, and James’s heart warmed at the sight of cats lazily sprawled around or curiously padding between tables. Regulus lit up instantly, his usual reserved expression softening as a gray tabby brushed up against his leg. He knelt down, scratching the cat behind its ears, his face almost glowing with a tenderness James hadn’t seen before.

“Sunshine, you have to meet this one,” Regulus murmured, glancing over his shoulder with a small smile that made James’s heart skip. James moved closer, chuckling as another cat pawed at his shoelaces.

“Good choice, Reggie. You’re in your element here,” Barty teased, slipping an arm around James’s shoulders as they sat at a nearby table.

The waiter handed out menus, and James quickly scanned the options, hoping to find something affordable. He settled on coffee and a pastry—just enough to enjoy without spending too much.

As they all placed their orders, Evan leaned in, watching him. “Anything else you want, Bambi?” His eyes were warm, but his question made James’s stomach twist. He shook his head quickly, offering a polite smile.

“No, I’m all good,” he said softly, hoping to steer attention away from himself. But he could feel Barty’s arm shift, his hand moving just a little lower on James’s shoulder, sending a spark down his spine.

“Are you sure, angel?” Barty asked, arching an eyebrow. “You don’t have to be shy with us.”

James blushed, looking down at the table. “I—I’m sure. Thanks, though.”

Regulus watched him intently, a slight smirk on his lips as he absently petted a cat that had jumped onto his lap. “So,” he said, his tone curious yet teasing, “you’re a mystery. Tell us more about yourself.”

James shifted, caught off guard. “Oh, um… there’s not much to tell, really.” He tried to brush it off, but Barty’s fingers slipped through his hair, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Nothing to tell? I don’t believe that, doll,” Evan chimed in, nudging James’s leg under the table. “There’s got to be more to you than meets the eye.”

James swallowed, feeling all three of their eyes on him. “Well, I, um… I work at the restaurant, obviously,” he said, flustered. “And… I like music?” He cringed internally at how boring he must sound.

“Music, huh?” Regulus’s eyes gleamed as he tilted his head. “Any favorites?”

James brightened slightly, relaxing as he thought about it. “Yeah, actually… Hozier’s one of my favorites.”

“Oh, Hozier,” Barty drawled, his fingers tracing gentle circles on James’s shoulder. “I should’ve known you’d have good taste.”

The way Barty said it made James’s cheeks flush again, and he fumbled for words. “Uh, th-thanks…”

Evan chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned in, studying James like he was the most interesting thing in the room. “You’re cute when you get all shy like that, you know.”

James let out a nervous laugh, feeling cornered in the best way possible. “I… I’m just not used to this,” he admitted. “You guys asking all these questions.”

“Oh, angel,” Regulus purred, his hand reaching over to squeeze James’s. “Get used to it. We’re not letting you off that easy.”

James couldn’t stop the grin that crept onto his face, despite the heat rising in his cheeks. “You’re all ridiculous,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The waiter returned with their drinks and pastries, setting them down on the table. James reached for his coffee, glad for the distraction, but Regulus’s gaze never left him.

James took a tentative bite of his pastry, savoring the sweetness, but it only seemed to intensify the gnawing ache in his stomach. He shifted uncomfortably, drawing his knee up to his chest and pressing it against his stomach, hoping the slight pressure might ease the hunger pangs.

When the waiter returned with the check, she asked politely, "Will you all be paying together, or separately?"

James quickly piped up, “Separately, please,” just as the others firmly replied, “Together.”

He shot them an exasperated look. “Guys, really, I can—”

“Absolutely not,” Regulus interjected, lifting his hand slightly to silence James. “We’re covering this.”

The waitress glanced between them, bemused, before nodding and walking away with a small smile. As soon as she was gone, all three boys turned to him, each wearing varying degrees of amusement and determination.

“Listen, I can pay for myself,” James insisted, straightening up.

Before he could say more, Barty’s hand covered his mouth, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Hush,” he murmured, his voice soft but commanding, his eyes glinting with a playful challenge. James’s cheeks flushed, but he stayed quiet, his heart hammering.

Barty laughed, and with his free hand, he lifted James’s coffee cup and held it up to his lips. “Now drink.”

James blinked, momentarily startled, but complied, taking a small sip while Barty kept his gaze steady. Once he had taken a drink, Barty set the cup back on the table, his expression both firm and affectionate.

“Angel, we invited you,” Barty explained softly, removing his hand from James’s mouth. “We wanted to treat you, so we’re paying. Got it?”

James opened his mouth to protest again, only to be cut off when Evan reached across the table and pressed a ripe strawberry into his mouth, laughing softly. “No arguments, Bambi,” Evan said with a teasing smile. “Just enjoy it.”

Regulus smirked, watching as James reluctantly chewed the strawberry. “Is that clear enough, sunshine?” he asked, his tone both teasing and affectionate.

James swallowed, his face red but unable to hide his smile. “Fine, but this is the only time,” he grumbled.

Barty laughed, ruffling James’s hair with a fondness that made James’s heart skip. “We’ll see about that.”

Evan took James’s hand and pulled him up gently. “Come on, baby, we’re not done yet,” he murmured, his voice soft.

James sighed, surrendering with a small, defeated laugh. “Alright, alright. Lead the way.”

As they walked out of the cafe, James noticed a few men standing off to the side, each looking sharp and watchful. He moved closer to Evan, instinctively linking his arm, his eyes darting between the guards.

Evan noticed his anxious expression and gently squeezed his hand. “Hey, angel, it’s alright,” he said softly, a comforting smile on his face. “These guys are just here for our safety. Meet the bodyguards.”

Regulus gave a small nod toward the guards, who dipped their heads in acknowledgment, their expressions softening just slightly as they registered James as part of the group. “You don’t need to worry, love. They’re here to protect us—and you now.”

James exhaled, feeling his shoulders relax. “Oh, right. Yeah, that makes sense. Just wasn’t expecting… you know, bodyguards.”

Barty chuckled, patting James’s back as they moved toward the car. “You’re with us now, sunshine. You’re under our protection.”

Inside the car, Regulus settled in beside James, casually resting his hand on James’s thigh. The touch was warm, grounding, and sent a thrill through James that he tried to ignore, his cheeks heating up as butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

“You okay, sunshine?” Regulus asked, smirking as he gave James’s thigh a gentle squeeze.

James managed a nod, “Uh-huh. Totally fine.”

The three exchanged an amused glance, but no one teased him—yet. They drove for a few minutes, finally pulling into the parking lot of a bowling alley.

“A bowling alley?” James asked, surprised.

“Regulus and Evan are really competitive,” Barty explained as he led James out, his hand resting possessively on James’s lower back. “You’ll like seeing them banter, trust me.”

Inside, they grabbed a table, and a waitress soon arrived to take their orders. James scanned the menu, his stomach growling softly. “I’ll just have a hotdog,” he said with a smile.

Regulus shook his head with a smirk. “And fries for him. Oh, and nachos for everyone to share.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for all that—” James started, only to feel Evan’s hand gently cover his mouth, his warm breath close to James’s ear.

“Shh, sunshine,” Evan murmured, a smile in his voice. “Just let us take care of you, alright?”

James’s cheeks flared as he reluctantly nodded, and Evan slowly pulled his hand away. Pouting, James crossed his arms. “You know, I’m probably going to get sick with all the germs on your hands.”

Regulus laughed, reaching over to gently ruffle his hair. “Oh, doll, I think you’ll survive.”

They gathered around the computer, taking turns typing in their names for the scoreboard. “Alright, angel, you’re up,” Barty said, handing James the tablet with a mischievous grin. He leaned in close, watching eagerly as if he expected James to slip and reveal his real name.

James raised a brow, smirking knowingly. “Nice try,” he muttered under his breath, fingers tapping across the screen quickly. A few seconds later, the name appeared on the TV above their alley: No <3

The others groaned in unison.

“Of course you’d do that, baby,” Barty said, snatching the tablet back, laughing as he deleted James’s handiwork. “We’re onto you, just so you know.” He typed in Sunshine in bold letters, earning a playful eye roll from James.

“Guess I’m stuck with that one, huh?” James chuckled, crossing his arms and giving Evan a sidelong look.

“Mhm” Evan said, nudging him with his shoulder.

“Alright, alright. Let’s see who’s got actual skills here,” Barty announced, picking up a ball and swinging his arm in an exaggerated, theatrical pose before dramatically releasing the ball. It wobbled straight into the gutter.

“Oh, Barty, that was tragic,” Regulus deadpanned, his lips twitching with a smirk. “Maybe a little less pizazz next time?”

Barty shrugged, unbothered. “Hey, someone’s gotta make it entertaining for the rest of you.”

James laughed, giving Barty a thumbs-up. “I appreciate the effort, Barty. Solid ten out of ten for style.”

“Sunshine’s got my back,” Barty winked, ruffling James’s hair.

Regulus took his turn next, his posture perfect and precise as he released the ball. They all watched as it curved neatly down the lane, striking all the pins with a clean sweep.

“Not bad, I guess,” Evan teased as the scoreboard lit up with Regulus’s strike.

Regulus shrugged, eyes gleaming with pride. “What can I say? I’m just good at this, Rosie.”

James took his turn, surprising himself with a decent throw. He managed to knock down most of the pins, earning a low cheer from Evan. “Nice job, love! You should join forces with me to take down Regulus!”

Regulus glared at Evan and pulled James toward him.

They went around a few more turns, and Barty’s attempts became more elaborate each time, ending in more dramatic gutter balls. Evan alternated between fierce competition with Regulus and watching James carefully to make sure he was eating. Every time James slowed down on the nachos or hesitated on the fries, Evan or Regulus would gently remind him.

“Come on, angel,” Regulus said with a soft smile, pushing a plate toward him. “It’s all yours. We want you to enjoy yourself.”

James sighed, but picked up a fry, mumbling, “You three are going to make me eat the whole place.”

Evan grinned, leaning in. “That’s the idea, sunshine. Besides, you can’t say no to us, can you?”

James narrowed his eyes, trying to put on a stern look. “I’m fully capable of saying no, actually.”

“Uh-huh,” Barty chimed in, smirking. “Then why haven’t you yet, baby boy?”

James couldn’t hide his grin. “Because maybe I don’t want to.”

“Aww, there’s our sweet boy,” Regulus cooed, reaching out to tousle James’s hair.

As the game went on, Regulus pulled far ahead, while James and Evan hanged up on him. When the waitress brought another basket of fries, James protested again, laughing, “You guys are ridiculous.”

“We’re just taking care of you, love,” Evan replied, smirking as he reached over and handed him a fry. “You better get used to it.”

James blushed, shaking his head. “Guess I don’t really have a choice, huh?”

Barty draped his arm around James’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “Not a chance.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FOUR

As they pulled up in front of the restaurant to drop James off, he reached for the door handle, only to find it wouldn’t budge. He looked up, brows knitting together in confusion. All three of them smirked back at him, trapping him in the car.

“Uh…guys?” James asked, glancing between them.

Barty grinned, leaning over. “So, angel, you gonna give us an answer? Are we getting a second date?”

James blinked, feeling his face heat up. “Wait…I have a choice?”

That broke Regulus, who burst out laughing, the sound filling the car. When he finally caught his breath, he shook his head. “No, baby boy, not really. But we wanted to see what you'd say.”

“Figured it was polite to ask,” Evan added with a shrug, his eyes glinting with mischief.

James let out a small, nervous laugh. “Well, uh…in that case, sure. I’d—yeah, I’d really like that.”

They exchanged a quick, satisfied look between them before Barty spoke up again. “Perfect. We’ll see you next time, sunshine.”

James smiled shyly, glancing down as he stammered, “Thanks for, um…for tonight. For taking me out, and for, you know… paying for everything. I—”

Evan cut him off by finally unlocking the car door. “Go on, baby,” he said, gesturing outside. “No need to get all mushy on us.”

Still blushing, James tried to finish, “I just wanted to say thank you. It was really—”

“Get out, baby boy,” Barty teased, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. He gave James a gentle push, practically shoving him out of the car. “We’ll see you soon, yeah?”

James stepped out onto the curb, glancing back with a shy wave. Just as he turned to go, he heard his dad calling his name from inside the restaurant. He froze, feeling the others’ gazes on him as they caught the name.

Regulus smirked, raising an eyebrow. “So, your name’s James, huh?”

Barty grinned. “James. Gotta say, it suits you, Bambi.”

Feeling brave, James turned back to them with a nervous smile. “Just…keep the pet names, yeah? I like them,” he admitted, barely able to meet their eyes as he spoke.

Their expressions softened, and Barty leaned over the seat to flash him a grin. “Oh, we can manage that, doll. Trust us.”

Too embarrassed to stay any longer, James spun around and practically sprinted inside before they could respond. As he disappeared through the door, the three of them exchanged glances.

The silence in the car lingered until Regulus finally let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “We’re done for, aren’t we?”

Evan sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Completely gone, love.”

Barty crossed his arms, grinning as he watched the restaurant door where James had just gone. “Obsessed. Completely and utterly obsessed.”

Regulus nodded, eyes still on the door. “Guess we’ll have to plan date number two.”

At breakfast the next morning, Regulus, Evan, and Barty were uncharacteristically silent, each lost in thought as they mulled over the events of the past day and, more specifically, a certain bright-eyed "Sunshine."

Sirius and Pandora exchanged a glance. Sirius finally had enough, slamming his mug down on the table. "Alright, spill. What’s going on with you three? You’ve been in a trance all morning."

Evan blinked, snapping out of his reverie. "It’s nothing, really, just... we’re talking to someone."

Sirius groaned, rolling his eyes. "Talking to someone? As if dealing with the three of you dating wasn’t enough, now there’s a fourth?"

Pandora snorted into her drink, laughing as Sirius leaned his head against the table in mock agony. "I can’t handle this," he muttered dramatically. "Who’s this poor, unfortunate soul?”

Regulus looked contemplative, murmuring, "He’s absolutely nothing like us, Siri. I think that’s why we like him so much."

Sirius lifted his head, frowning. "Nothing like you lot? So… not a menace?"

"More like the opposite," Evan said, unable to hide his grin. "He’s lovely, cheerful, and too adorable for his own good."

Barty smiled, "He's sunshine.

Sirius groaned, rubbing his temples. "Yeah, I’m gonna need to meet this ‘Sunshine’ before any of you get too attached. My approval’s non-negotiable."

"Of course, Sirius," Regulus sighed. He knew there was no way around it. "But you have to promise to behave."

Lying in bed, James tried to ignore the hollow ache in his stomach. Four days without food had left him weak, but the ding of his phone broke through the haze of hunger. It was a message from Regulus, Evan, and Barty—the perfect distraction.

Regulus: Morning, Baby Boy. Guess what? Our family knows about you.

Evan: They’re dying to meet our angel.

Barty: You free? We were thinking…tonight.

James’ heart skipped a beat. Their family wants to meet me? Tonight? He started typing, then deleted his response twice before finally hitting send.

James: Wait, your family? Like, all of you together? I thought… since you’re all dating… I didn’t realize…

A response came quickly.

Barty: Oh, yeah. We're blood brothers. Didn't we tell you?

Regulus: We are NOT related. That's disgusting.

Barty: Aren't you inbred? 

Evan: Shut up. James is still confused.

James was more than confused, he was mortified. Deep down, he knew Barty was fucking with him. Besides, Regulus was too beautiful to be inbred. 

James: I've actually gotta go!

Regulus: No you don't.

James: ...no I don't?

Regulus: Good.

Barty: Our situation is a little confusing. Reg, Sirius, and I moved in with Evan’s family a couple years back. They sort of… adopted us.

Evan: Exactly. Reg and Barty are family now. My parents and Pandora adore them.

Regulus: And now they want to adore you too, Sunshine.

James felt a rush of warmth, but his curiosity was piqued. He hesitated before asking his next question.

James: Um…who’s Pandora?

Evan: My twin sister. She’s exicted to meet you.

Barty: She’ll love you, Angel.

James: And Sirius?

Regulus: He's my older brother. Quite overprotective.

Barty: More like terrifying, honestly. You might want to brace yourself, sunshine.

James bit his lip, already feeling his anxiety spike. He couldn’t help asking, Tonight? immediately after.

Regulus: Yes, Baby. Tonight.

James scrambled to type back.

James: Tonight?! I don’t even have anything nice to wear! 

Their replies came in almost at once, overlapping like they were laughing as they typed.

Evan: Calm down, Love. Wear whatever you want. You’re going to be perfect.

Barty: And adorable when you’re nervous. Seriously, Bambi, stop panicking.

Regulus: I promise, Baby Boy, they’ll love you. Just be you.

James clutched his phone, feeling the slight pang of panic shift to an excited flutter. It was a lot to take in, and the fact that they’d already discussed him with their family made him feel strange, yet special. Things were moving quickly, but, for some reason, James liked that.

James adjusted his coat, taking a deep breath to steady himself before stepping out into the cool evening air. Pain gnawed at his stomach, a hot, sharp reminder of the days he'd gone without food, but he pushed it aside, trying to focus on the night ahead. He could handle this. The last thing he wanted was for Regulus, Evan, and Barty to worry. When their sleek black car pulled up to the restaurant, he took a moment, bracing himself, then climbed in.

The smell of leather and something faintly spiced filled the car, as did the immediate teasing.

“Sunshine,” Regulus began, an amused smirk on his face, “Sirius is probably already preparing his scowl for you. He won’t make it easy.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Evan added, grinning. “I think he’s been practicing his intimidation tactics just for you, Baby.”

Barty chuckled from the front seat, turning to glance at him. “If you survive the night, we’ll consider it a success. But no promises that he doesn’t interrogate you.”

James chuckled, doing his best to look unbothered. “You’re trying to scare me,” he muttered, shaking his head. “It’s not working.”

“Oh, Angel,” Barty said with a smirk, “we don’t need to try. Sirius does it all on his own.”

They continued to prod him, each detail about their family making his nerves grow while they clearly enjoyed winding him up.

Evan reached over and gently ruffled his hair. “Don’t look so terrified, Love. Just remember you’ve got us. And, well, maybe Pandora too.”

James forced a smile, trying to ignore the pangs twisting through his stomach. Hold on, he told himself. Just a little longer. The hunger had left him weak, and the steady hum of the car along with their voices were strangely soothing. He shifted, instinctively pulling one knee to his chest to ease some of the pain. But when that didn’t help, he simply gave in to the exhaustion.

As his head drifted down, he found himself resting against Barty’s shoulder, his eyelids growing heavier despite his best efforts. The hunger had stolen every last bit of energy, and before he knew it, he’d drifted off.

Regulus noticed first, his smirk softening as he glanced back at James. “Look at him,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Our Baby Boy must’ve been up half the night worrying.”

Evan looked over, a tender expression in his eyes. “We do tease him relentlessly… Sunshine probably needed the rest.”

Barty chuckled, careful not to jostle James. “Our little love just couldn’t keep up with his nerves.” He watched James’ peaceful face, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind his ear. “Sleep, Angel,” he whispered softly. “We’ll be there soon.”

The car filled with soft laughter and fond glances as they continued their drive, letting James sleep. Regulus sighed, “I don’t think any of us were prepared for him.”

“Completely gone for him,” Evan agreed, brushing his thumb lightly over James’ knuckles. “We’ll have to make this night perfect.”

"Mhm, perfect."

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIVE

Barty reached over, gently shaking James awake and running his fingers through his curls, savoring the soft feel of his hair. James stirred, leaning into the touch with a sleepy, contented hum, only to let out a small, disappointed whine as Barty’s fingers drifted away.

“Oh, look at that,” Regulus chuckled from the driver’s seat, smirking over his shoulder. “Our Baby Boy didn’t want to let go.”

“Sunshine,” Evan added with a teasing grin, “we’re here. Time to wake up.”

James blinked, slowly sitting up and stretching, then stifling a yawn. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the fog of sleep. But as he stepped out of the car, he froze, eyes widening as he took in the sight before him. His jaw dropped as he gaped up at the mansion towering over them. It was massive, with elegant stonework and towering windows, perfectly manicured gardens sprawling out in every direction. It was beyond anything he’d ever seen.

“Everything alright, sunshine?” Barty’s voice was soft beside him, but James barely registered it. His heart began to race, and suddenly he became painfully aware of every detail about himself that felt out of place. The oversized, faded sweatshirt he wore felt like it screamed wrong , his thin, malnourished frame suddenly more noticeable under its loose fabric. This place—this whole life—felt a world apart from him. What was he doing here?

“Angel?” Regulus’ voice cut through his daze, his hand landing gently on James’ lower back. He could feel the warmth of Regulus’ touch through his clothes, grounding him, but his stomach twisted even tighter.

“Breathe, Love,” Evan murmured softly, stepping closer and taking James’ trembling hands in his own. “You’re with us. Don’t think about the rest of it, alright? Just us.”

James looked between them, his eyes flicking nervously to each face. But Regulus’ steady gaze and Evan’s comforting smile eased some of the tightness in his chest. Barty gently squeezed his shoulder, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Hey, Bambi,” Barty whispered, his voice warm and reassuring, “you’ve got this. We’re right here with you. And trust me—there’s no one in there who’s worth your worry.”

James took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He squeezed Evan’s hand back, nodding faintly. “Okay. I... I think I’m ready.”

“That’s our Sunshine,” Regulus said, his voice soft and filled with pride. He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to James’ forehead. “Come on, Baby Boy. Let’s show you off.”

Together, with James sandwiched between them, they made their way toward the grand entrance. James’s pulse pounded with each step, the walls of the mansion seeming to grow taller and more imposing. 

Inside the grand mansion, James felt as if he was shrinking with every step. He was hyper-aware of his old sneakers leaving faint marks on the polished floors and the threadbare cuffs of his hoodie skimming against the lavish decor. 

He had barely settled in when Evan’s mother appeared, her face lighting up with a warm, welcoming smile. “Oh, you must be James!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a hug before he could react.

“Ah, yes, that’s... me,” James stammered, barely getting the words out as her arms enveloped him. The hug was tight, and he could feel her warmth, her genuine enthusiasm radiating through. 

But he froze, dread creeping up his spine. She’d notice, he thought, she’d feel how thin he was, the rough texture of his hoodie, the faint smell from reusing clothes. His face burned, the instinct to pull back growing, but he stayed still, teeth gritted, trying to hide the nervous tremor in his hands.

“Oh, Love,” Evan murmured, glancing over with a soft smile. “Mum’s always like this. Total hugger.”

Mrs. Rosier pulled back with a gentle squeeze, still beaming at him as if nothing was amiss. “I’ve heard so much about you, James,” she said, hands resting on his shoulders. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you! You’re even cuter than the boys let on.”

Regulus chuckled, slipping an arm around James’ waist, pulling him slightly closer. “Told you she’d love you, Angel.”

James glanced up, fighting the urge to crumble under their warmth. “Thanks,” he mumbled, cheeks pink. “It’s... really nice to meet you too.”

Mrs. Rosier’s gaze softened, and she gave him one more gentle squeeze before letting go. “Please, make yourself at home! Don’t let these three intimidate you too much.” She shot a teasing look at her son and his boyfriends.

“Yes, Sunshine, don’t let us get to you,” Barty teased, leaning in close to whisper in James’ ear. “Though I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“Bambi’s tougher than he looks,” Evan added, winking. “But let’s get you settled, hm?”

The dining room was as grand as the rest of the house, with a long mahogany table set with fine china and crystal glasses. James hesitated at the doorway, feeling impossibly small in such an opulent space. The three boys beside him didn’t seem fazed at all. Instead, Evan gently nudged James forward, his hand firm and reassuring on the small of James’ back.

“Come on, Angel. They don’t bite,” Evan said softly, his tone laced with amusement.

James nodded, his stomach still twisting in knots as they entered the room. Axel Rosier stood at the head of the table, a tall, imposing man with sharp features. For a moment, James felt his nerves spike—this man looked like he could command armies.

“Dad,” Evan greeted casually, breaking James’ train of thought. “This is James.”

Axel’s piercing gaze flicked to James, who froze under the intensity. But before James could spiral, Axel’s face broke into a warm smile, and he extended a hand.

“Hello, James,” Axel said, his voice deep but kind. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

James blinked, startled by the kindness, before quickly shaking Axel’s hand. “Uh, it’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Sir?” Axel chuckled, releasing James’ hand. “No need for that. Call me Axel.”

“Yes, sir—I mean, Axel,” James stammered, his cheeks burning.

Adele entered the room with Pandora trailing behind her. “Now, now, don’t scare the poor boy,” Adele teased, shooting her husband a fond look before turning her attention to James. “Pandora, come meet James properly.”

Pandora stepped forward, a smile playing on her lips. She had the same striking features as Evan but softer, less sharp. “Hi, James,” she greeted, her tone gentle. “I’m Pandora. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

James returned the smile shyly. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Aw, you’re even sweeter than I thought you’d be,” Pandora added, her smile widening.

Before James could reply, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. His stomach dropped as Sirius strode into the room. The energy in the space shifted immediately.

“Sirius,” Regulus greeted carefully, his voice carrying a note of warning.

Sirius didn’t respond. His stormy gaze landed on James, sweeping over him slowly, taking in every detail of his appearance—the baggy clothes, the way he seemed to shrink under the scrutiny. James forced himself to offer a small smile, but Sirius’ expression remained cold, his lips curling in subtle disapproval.

Regulus cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Sirius.”

Sirius’ sharp eyes flicked to his brother, softening only slightly at Regulus’ pleading look. Without a word to James, Sirius turned to Adele and Axel, greeting them warmly.

“Adele, Axel,” he said smoothly, leaning in to place a kiss on Adele’s cheek. 

Sirius sat down at the table without sparing James another glance, slipping easily into light conversation with Adele and Axel. James stood frozen, his shoulders stiff, anxiety swirling in his chest.

Evan’s hand slid into his, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Ignore him, Bambi,” Evan whispered. “He’s just posturing. You’re doing great.”

Barty leaned in from the other side. “He’s always like this,” he muttered. “Don’t let him get to you, Baby Boy. Sirius is a grump with everyone.”

Regulus gave James a small, apologetic smile. “We’ve got you, Sunshine. Promise.”

James nodded hesitantly, letting Evan guide him toward the table. Evan pulled out a chair for him next to his own, across from Regulus and Barty. As James sat down, he felt Barty’s foot nudge his under the table, a silent reassurance.

“Relax, Angel,” Barty said softly, his voice low enough that only James could hear. “We’re here for you.”

The dining room filled with soft clinks of silverware on china as the servants brought out the first course. James’ eyes widened as plate after plate of delicately arranged food was set before them. Each dish looked like it belonged in a magazine, perfectly portioned and garnished to perfection.

James swallowed hard, trying not to gape. How rich were these people?! He glanced down at his place setting and froze. There were so many forks . And knives. And spoons.

Panic bubbled in his chest as he stared at the overwhelming array of utensils, trying to make sense of it. Was there some kind of code? Was he supposed to know which one to use for which dish? He could feel his face heating up the longer he stared.

“Angel,” Evan’s voice broke through his spiral, low and soothing. He nudged James’ arm gently. “Start with the outermost fork and knife. Work your way in. It’s easy.”

Evan demonstrated by picking up his own fork and knife, raising an eyebrow as if to say you got this . James sent him a grateful but embarrassed look, mumbling under his breath, “Which knife do I kill myself with?”

It was meant to be a quiet, sarcastic comment, more for himself than anyone else. But unfortunately, Evan heard it.

Evan choked on the sip of water he’d just taken, sputtering as he set the glass down hastily, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. The sudden noise drew the attention of the entire table.

“Evan?” Adele asked, her brows furrowing in concern.

“I’m fine,” Evan said quickly, his voice muffled by his hand. His eyes, however, were sparkling with amusement as he leaned closer to James and whispered, “This one, Baby.” He slid one of the knives toward James with a crooked grin.

James rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, picking up the knife with exaggerated seriousness.

Evan’s grin widened as James made a show of holding the knife like he was contemplating it. Quick as lightning, Evan snatched the knife from James’ hand, putting it back in the block with a mock-stern look.

“Absolutely not, Bambi,” Evan teased, still chuckling. “You’re too pretty to be making jokes like that.”

“Too pretty, huh?” James shot back, trying to hide how much the compliment made his stomach flip.

Regulus, who had been watching the exchange with an amused smirk, finally spoke up. “Bambi, if you’re going to take Evan’s jokes seriously, we’re going to need to get you a manual for this family’s sense of humor.”

James huffed, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “Your humor’s warped. All of you.”

Barty leaned forward from across the table, resting his chin in his hand as he gave James a mischievous grin. “You love it though, Sunshine. Admit it.”

“Do I?” James shot back, arching a brow.

“Yes,” Barty said confidently, his grin widening. “You absolutely do. And we love you for putting up with us.”

James rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto his face. “You’re all impossible.”

“Welcome to the family, Doll,” Evan said lightly, nudging James’ knee under the table.

Sirius set his glass down with a faint clink. “Alright,” he said, his tone dripping with exasperation. “What’s with all the pet names? Angel? Baby? Doll? It’s like listening to a cheesy romance novel.”

Evan’s lips twitched into a smirk, and he glanced at Regulus and Barty. The three of them shared a look that made James’ stomach drop. Oh no. They’re going to make me answer.

All eyes turned to James, and his heart started to race. “Uh…” he began, his voice faint. “I, um…”

“Don’t worry,” Barty said, clearly enjoying James’ discomfort. “You’ve got this.”

James shot Barty a look of pure betrayal, but Regulus took pity on him, stepping in to explain. “We didn’t start with the pet names. Someone here,” he said, tilting his head toward James, “refused to tell us his name for weeks when we first met him.”

James flushed instantly, sinking lower in his chair as all eyes turned to him.

“Why?” Pandora asked, laughing in disbelief as she looked at James. “Why wouldn’t you tell them your name?”

James tried to hide his face behind his glass of water but gave in when Pandora’s curious gaze didn’t waver. He shrugged with a small, shy smile. “It was fun,” he admitted softly.

Evan laughed, shaking his head. “Fun? Angel, you drove us insane. It wasn’t fun; it was torture. ”

Barty leaned back in his chair, gesturing grandly. “It wasn’t just that he wouldn’t tell us. Oh, no. He went above and beyond to keep his name a secret. This one,” he said, pointing dramatically at James, “literally ripped his name tag off his shirt at work and threw it in the trash like it was a government secret.”

“I did not!” James protested, his face burning as the table erupted into laughter.

“Oh, you absolutely did,” Barty said, grinning wickedly. 

Pandora giggled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “This is amazing. James, what were you trying to accomplish?”

“I don’t know!” James whined, dropping his hands. “It was just—” He gestured helplessly, his face still pink. “It was funny at the time!”

“Funny?” Regulus said, his voice soft but teasing. “Sunshine, we were starting to think you didn’t trust us.”

“Or that you didn’t have a name,” Evan added with a smirk.

“I hate all of you,” James muttered, picking up his fork to distract himself.

“No, you don’t.” Barty said smugly. 

James tried to glare at Barty but couldn’t quite manage it. He turned his attention to the food instead, hoping the conversation would shift. 

But as he ate, a gnawing sensation grew in his stomach. Instead of satisfying his hunger, the food only seemed to make it worse. He couldn’t eat too quickly or too much without drawing attention, but his body was practically begging him for more.

Evan noticed James’ focus on his plate and leaned over to whisper, “Good, isn’t it, Love?”

James nodded, swallowing his bite before replying. “Really good.”

Regulus smiled at him from across the table. “Eat as much as you want, Baby. There’s plenty.”

James hesitated for a moment, glancing nervously at the others, but when Adele chimed in with a warm, “Please, James, help yourself. We want you to feel at home,” he relaxed slightly.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his cheeks flushing again.

The rest of the group returned to their conversation, laughing and teasing each other, but James focused on his plate, determined to ignore the sharp pangs in his stomach and the quiet voice in the back of his mind reminding him that he didn’t belong here. At least, not yet.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIX

The soft clinking of silverware and hum of conversation filled the room, but James could barely focus. Adele’s warm smile lingered in his mind, turning his gratitude into a pit of shame. She’d noticed. She must have. Her words about eating as much as he liked, so kind and thoughtful, made his stomach churn with anxiety.

As he poked at his food, he felt the heaviness settling. Instead of satisfying his hunger, it left his stomach too active, like it didn’t know how to handle what little he’d eaten. A familiar, sickening sensation crept up his throat, and he swallowed hard. He knew what was coming. He’d need to find a way to excuse himself soon.

“James,” Axel’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts. “Your accent—it’s faint, but I can tell it’s not from here. Where are you from originally?”

James straightened, the attention shifting to him making his pulse quicken. He forced a smile, the kind he’d perfected over the years. “Mexico,” he replied softly. “I was born there, but we moved to France when I was six.”

Adele’s eyes lit up with interest. “Oh, how wonderful! What brought your family to France?”

James froze. His brain scrambled for a safe answer, but his past loomed over him like a storm cloud. The truth—that they were even poorer in Mexico and hoped for a better life—stuck in his throat, too raw and personal to share.

“Uh…” he began, but before he could panic, Regulus jumped in smoothly.

“They own a restaurant,” Regulus said, his tone proud as he reached across the table to grab James’ hand. “The food is incredible. Truly.”

“Absolutely mouthwatering,” Barty added, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. “Best tacos I’ve ever had. Ever.”

Evan nodded fervently. “I still dream about that queso, Angel. You’ve ruined me for all other food.”

James blinked, startled by their sudden praise. He turned toward them, his cheeks warming. “You guys…”

“They’re not exaggerating,” Regulus cut in with a rare smile, looking directly at Adele and Axel. “We ate there once and couldn’t stop going back. It’s, um… actually how we met James.”

“What?” Axel looked between James and the trio, his brows raised. “You’ve been to their restaurant?”

“Multiple times,” Evan said, his voice full of affection as he turned to James. “We kind of stalked you for a bit, didn’t we, Doll?”

James gasped, his face heating even more. “ Stalked ? Evan!”

Barty laughed, clearly unbothered. “He’s not wrong, Baby Boy. We kept going back just to see you. You had this annoying way of always running around, refusing to stop long enough for us to talk to you properly.”

“I was working,” James protested weakly, covering his face with one hand.

“And you were adorable,” Regulus added with a smirk. “Still are.”

Adele laughed, her eyes sparkling as she looked at James. “So you were working at your family’s restaurant when they met you?”

“Yeah,” James said, his voice quieter now. “My parents… they’ve had the place for years. It’s a small spot, but it’s ours.”

“It’s fantastic,” Axel said warmly, nodding in approval. “Clearly, your parents know what they’re doing.”

James smiled shyly, feeling a bit more at ease as the conversation moved on. He felt a gentle squeeze on his hand and glanced at Evan, who gave him a reassuring smile.

As the conversation shifted back to James, Axel leaned forward, a kind yet curious smile on his face. “So, James, where do you live? I imagine it’s near the restaurant, yes?”

James froze for a heartbeat. His mind raced, searching for an answer that wouldn’t set off alarm bells. “Oh,” he said lightly, forcing a casual smile. “I live in the Montrose district.”

The moment the words left his mouth, James noticed Adele’s polite demeanor falter. Her smile tightened, and her hand reflexively gripped her wine glass a little too hard. Across the table, Sirius’ head snapped up, his worried gaze zeroing in on Regulus.

James felt the shift in the room like a crack in glass. He knew his mistake instantly. Montrose was infamous for its illegal activity, crumbling infrastructure, and suffocating poverty. It wasn’t a place people like the Rosiers would willingly step into—or let their sons anywhere near.

Regulus, Evan, and Barty, however, didn’t react. They hadn’t been to his house or even his neighborhood. James could work with that.

Clearing his throat, he glanced at Adele and Axel with a reassuring smile. “But they’ve never been to my place,” he added quickly, gesturing toward Regulus, Evan, and Barty. “They’ve only ever been to the restaurant. It’s in a much nicer area.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, picking up on James’ shift in tone. “Isn’t the restaurant in Aubrey Park?” he asked smoothly, playing along.

James nodded. “Yeah, it’s in Aubrey Park. The neighborhood’s quiet, safe. A lot of families go there.” He made sure his voice stayed even, nonchalant.

Adele visibly relaxed, her grip on the wine glass loosening. “Oh, that’s good to hear,” she said, her voice soft and maternal. “We’d love to visit sometime. The boys rave about the food, and now I’m curious to try it for myself.”

“You’d love it, Mum,” Evan said with a grin. “James makes it worth the trip, don’t you, Angel?”

James flushed, shaking his head as he tried to wave off the compliment. “I just serve the food; my parents do all the hard work.”

“Don’t be modest, Baby Boy,” Barty interjected, leaning back in his chair with an easy smirk. “You’re the reason people keep coming back. You’ve got that charm.”

“ And you bring out the food,” Regulus added with a teasing glint in his eye. “That’s the most important part.”

James rolled his eyes, trying to hide the growing warmth in his chest. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, Doll,” Evan said, his tone playful yet sincere. “I think they’re onto something. We did kind of stalk you before we got the courage to talk to you, remember?”

“Stop saying you stalked me!” James groaned, covering his face.

“It’s not inaccurate, though,” Barty said with a shrug. “We planned entire days around it. Worth every second.”

Sirius cleared his throat loudly, his expression sharp as he glanced between James and his brother. “So… you’ve been spending a lot of time together, then?”

Regulus turned to Sirius, his gaze steady. “Yes, we have.” His tone was firm, as if daring Sirius to say anything further.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine with an expression that could only be described as disdainful curiosity. “So, James,” he began, voice cutting through the pleasant buzz of conversation. “What’s it like living in Montrose? As bad as everyone says it is?”

James froze mid-sip, lowering his glass with deliberate calm. He was tired—tired of Sirius’ needling, tired of the judgment radiating off him like heat. And honestly? He didn’t have the energy to sugarcoat it anymore.

“Yes,” James said flatly, his voice ringing with finality.

The response seemed to take Sirius by surprise. He blinked, caught off guard, while Barty barely suppressed a snort of laughter behind his hand.

“What?” Sirius snapped, narrowing his eyes. “So you’re saying it really is that bad?”

“Yes,” James repeated, leaning back in his chair as if this interrogation bored him.

Sirius’ jaw twitched. “Are there really gangs there?”

James tilted his head, pretending to consider the question seriously. “Yup,” he said, popping the p . “Five, actually. But only one of them is bad. The rest of them? Pretty harmless.”

Regulus raised a sharp eyebrow at his brother, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Sirius.” His tone was a warning, but James held up a hand to stop him.

“No, it’s fine,” James said breezily, waving Regulus off with a small smile. “Let’s keep going. This is fun.”

Sirius glared, undeterred. “So, what, you’re saying it’s fine living there because only one gang is ‘bad’?”

James shrugged. “Not really. The real villains are the cops, though. They over-police the area. Arrest whoever they think looks ‘wrong.’ You’d fit right in, Black,” he added, tone teasing but sharp enough to make Sirius bristle.

The table fell silent, the tension palpable. Evan casually reached for his wine glass, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watched the exchange.

Sirius’ glare deepened. “Have you ever been arrested, then?” he asked accusingly, as if trying to catch James in some sort of trap.

James’ response was immediate and utterly nonchalant. “Only, like, three times.”

The room collectively sucked in a breath. Adele’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Barty let out an actual laugh, smothering it quickly with a cough when Sirius shot him a look.

“Three times?” Sirius repeated, his voice rising.

James grinned, clearly enjoying the reactions around the table. “Well, I’ve never actually been arrested arrested,” he explained, gesturing loosely. “But I’ve been handcuffed, shoved into the back of a cop car, taken to the station—you know, the usual. They never had anything to charge me with, though. So I was always let go after a couple of hours.”

Adele looked absolutely horrified. “They took you to the station ?”

“Oh yeah,” James said with a casual nod. “Took my mugshot and everything. That part was fun, though. I looked great.”

The room gaped at him, stunned into silence.

“You had your mugshot taken?” Axel finally asked, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah,” James said with a laugh, leaning forward as if to share a funny anecdote. “The first time, I didn’t know they could do that without charging you, so I asked if I could keep a copy.”

Evan burst out laughing, slapping his hand on the table. “Of course you would, Sunshine. Only you could turn getting hauled in by the cops into a photoshoot.”

Barty leaned in, grinning. “I bet you were smug as hell in that picture, weren’t you, Angel?”

“Obviously,” James said, flashing an exaggerated smirk.

Regulus shook his head, lips twitching despite himself. “You’re unbelievable, love.”

Sirius looked between them, aghast. “Are you three seriously okay with this?”

“Okay with what?” Regulus asked, his tone daring.

“With the fact that he’s been—been—” Sirius sputtered, gesturing wildly toward James.

“Handcuffed?” Barty supplied helpfully, his grin turning wicked. “Don’t worry, Sirius. We’ve already got that covered.”

James choked on his drink, coughing as his cheeks flushed bright red.

“Barty,” Regulus hissed, his face heating as Evan dissolved into laughter.

“What?” Barty said innocently, though the glint in his eye said otherwise.

The room finally broke into a mixture of laughter and exasperated groans, the tension dissipating as James leaned against Regulus, shaking his head with a smile.

Sirius wasn’t done. His sharp gray eyes bore into James like he was determined to crack him open. “You had to have been doing something wrong to get arrested,” Sirius said, voice full of pointed skepticism.

James’ smile fell, and he tilted his head, fixing Sirius with a deadpan stare. “I’m dark-skinned, I wear hoodies, and I loiter sometimes. That’s all it takes.” His voice was calm, but the weight behind his words sent a chill through the room. “I was ten the first time. Just standing outside a shop waiting for my mom, and the cops decided that was enough reason to pin me down and drag me away.”

The room went silent, save for Adele’s sharp intake of breath. Sirius’ accusing expression faltered, replaced by something closer to confusion—or maybe guilt.

“You were ten?” Sirius asked, his voice quieter now.

James nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Ten. My mom couldn’t find me for hours. She thought something terrible had happened until they finally called her from the station.”

Regulus reached over, his hand brushing against James’ thigh under the table. “Angel,” he murmured softly, his voice full of quiet concern.

James glanced at him and gave a small smile before turning back to Sirius. “The second time was even dumber, though. You’ll love this one.”

Sirius, now visibly intrigued despite himself, leaned forward. “Alright, I’m listening.”

James smirked faintly. “I was fourteen, walking a bag of flour over to my family’s restaurant. The cops stopped me, decided it was cocaine, and hauled me in.”

The room erupted.

Barty burst into laughter so loud it echoed off the walls. “ Flour?! ” he managed to wheeze, clutching his stomach as tears sprang to his eyes. “Oh my god, Baby Boy, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“It was literally in a clear bag,” James said, rolling his eyes but smiling despite himself.

Evan wiped at his own watering eyes, his laughter nearly as loud as Barty’s. “Sunshine, please tell me you gave them hell for that. Please.”

James shrugged, his grin widening. “I told them if they thought it was cocaine, they should try tasting it. That didn’t go over well.”

Barty practically slid off his chair, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “You’re a menace,” he gasped, still clutching his side.

“Wasn’t even the worst time,” James said, smirking as he waited for the chaos to die down.

Adele, still recovering from her shock, hesitated before asking cautiously, “What happened the third time?”

James’ grin faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “The third time, I was being mugged.”

The laughter evaporated instantly. Regulus sat up straighter, his hand tightening around James’ under the table.

“You what? ” Sirius asked, his voice sharp again, though this time there was an edge of concern.

“Yeah,” James said simply. “One of the bad gangs in my neighborhood cornered me. When they realized I didn’t have any money, they beat me up. I fought back, obviously, but then the cops showed up.”

“And they arrested you?!” Evan asked incredulously.

James nodded, his voice dry. “Yep. Arrested the gang and me. Because clearly, I was asking to get mugged.”

“That’s so fucked up,” Barty muttered, his laughter gone now as his brows furrowed in anger.

“It’s the norm where I live,” James said lightly, shrugging like it was no big deal.

“Well, it shouldn’t be,” Regulus snapped, his voice uncharacteristically heated. He turned to glare at Sirius. “Are you satisfied now, or do you have more brilliant questions to interrogate him with?”

Sirius’ jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. He stared at James for a moment longer before looking away, guilt flashing in his eyes.

Evan leaned over, breaking the tension with a low whistle. “Bambi, remind me never to cross you. If you’ve survived all that and still walked out smiling, you’re basically invincible.”

James laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Shut up, Doll,” Barty said firmly, his usual grin returning. “You’re unstoppable, and you know it.”

Regulus gave James’ hand a squeeze, his voice quieter but no less determined. “He’s right, Angel. And you’re never going back there alone again. Got it?”

James opened his mouth to argue, but the look in Regulus’ eyes stopped him. He sighed and nodded. “Got it.”

“Good,” Regulus said, leaning back as if the matter was settled.

Adele, who had been quiet for most of the exchange, finally spoke up, her voice trembling slightly. “James, you’re welcome here anytime. You don’t have to… deal with that alone.”

James gave her a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

The conversation shifted after that, the table easing back into lighter topics. But James could feel the lingering tension in Regulus, Barty, and Evan’s protective gazes. Despite himself, it made him feel a little safer.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SEVEN

James stood by the front door, offering his goodbyes to the Rosier family one by one. Adele lingered, her sharp eyes softened as they swept over him.

“You’re an extraordinary young man, James,” Adele said, reaching out unexpectedly to embrace him.

James stiffened slightly at first. He wasn’t used to such intimate gestures from someone as polished as Adele. But he managed to recover quickly, wrapping his arms around her in return. “Thank you, Mrs. Rosier.”

“Please,” she said with a rare warmth, pulling back to look at him. “It’s Adele. And do take care of yourself.”

“Of course,” James replied, nodding with a polite smile.

He turned next to Axel, who clapped him on the shoulder with a strength that caught James off guard. “Good to have you tonight, son,” he said gruffly. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Thanks, Mr.—uh, Axel.” James grinned nervously, still adjusting to their hospitality.

Pandora waved at him cheerily from the hallway. “Bye, Sunshine!” she called, giggling when James flushed at the nickname.

Barty grinned wickedly, stepping closer. “Safe trip home, Baby Boy,” he murmured under his breath.

James shot him a glare, though his lips twitched in amusement. “I’m going to start calling you names back.”

“I’d like to see you try, Bambi,” Barty teased, chuckling as James shook his head.

Evan was next, pulling him into a loose, almost brotherly hug. “Take care, Doll. Text us when you’re home, yeah?”

“I will,” James promised.

Regulus lingered last, his dark eyes scanning James’ face as though committing every detail to memory. “Goodnight, Angel,” he said softly, his voice holding a note of something unspoken.

James ducked his head, his cheeks warming. “Goodnight, Reg.”

As James made his way to the car waiting outside, he realized Sirius wasn’t around to say goodbye. He felt a twinge of relief; facing Sirius again after that dinner might have been more than he could handle tonight.

The ride started quietly, the only sounds being the soft hum of the engine and the occasional crackle from the guards’ radios. James leaned back in the plush seat, his thoughts swirling.

The city lights blurred past, and as they ventured closer to his neighborhood, the streets grew darker. The nausea that had been simmering all night began to bubble to the surface.

“Are you alright, Mr. Potter?” the guard in the passenger seat asked, glancing back at him.

James nodded quickly, though he felt anything but fine. “Yeah, just tired. Long day,” he lied.

Another five minutes passed, and James’ stomach twisted painfully. He swallowed hard, his panic rising.

“Pull over,” he managed to say, his voice tight and urgent.

The driver didn’t hesitate, pulling off to the side of the road with practiced efficiency. James bolted out of the car as soon as it stopped, barely making it to the shoulder before he threw up.

His body heaved, rejecting the rich dinner he’d so enjoyed only an hour ago. Humiliated, James stayed hunched over, gripping his knees as he tried to steady his breathing.

One of the guards stepped out of the car and approached him cautiously. “Here,” he said gently, holding out a clean cloth.

James took it without meeting his eyes, wiping his mouth and face. Another guard offered him a bottle of water, and James accepted it gratefully, rinsing out the foul taste.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, still avoiding their gazes.

“Are you okay, Mr. Potter?” one of the guards asked, his tone more concerned now.

“I’m fine,” James insisted quickly, standing up straight even though his legs felt shaky. “Really. Just… don’t tell anyone, yeah? It’s not important.”

The guards exchanged uneasy glances before nodding. “Understood.”

James climbed back into the car, sinking into the seat and pressing a hand to his forehead. The rest of the ride was silent, but the unease hung heavy in the air.

As they finally neared his house, James stared out at the familiar streets with a mix of relief and dread, knowing that tonight would likely stay with him for a long time

The guards returned to the estate swiftly, heading straight to the living room, where Axel, Adele, Evan, Regulus, and Barty were still gathered. A low murmur of conversation filled the room until the guards stood at attention, addressing Axel directly.

“Mr. Rosier, there was an incident on the way back to Mr. Potter’s residence.”

Axel’s brows furrowed, immediately sensing the seriousness in their tone. “What kind of incident?”

The senior guard stepped forward. “Mr. Potter became ill during the ride home. He asked us to pull over, and he vomited by the side of the highway. Afterward, he insisted he was fine and told us not to inform anyone.”

The room went dead silent.

Regulus stiffened in his seat, his fingers gripping the armrest. “He what ?” he demanded, his voice sharp and panicked. “What happened to him? Was he sick before? Did something happen at dinner?”

Barty shot up from the sofa, pacing as he ran a hand through his hair. “You didn’t just leave him after that, did you? Did he look pale? Did he have a fever?”

Axel held up a hand, trying to process the information. “Calm down, both of you.” His voice was steady, but his expression betrayed his worry. “Tell us exactly what happened.”

The senior guard nodded. “He seemed fine at first but then suddenly became nauseous. He told us to pull over, and we did. He got out, vomited, and seemed embarrassed afterward. He wouldn’t look us in the eye and assured us he was fine. He specifically asked us not to tell you, but—”

“That’s not for him to decide,” Barty cut in, his voice sharp with irritation. “If something’s wrong, we need to know.”

Axel leaned forward, his concern evident. “Was there something in the food?” he asked Adele, his tone tinged with confusion. “Does he have allergies we don’t know about? Was anything different tonight?”

“No,” Adele said slowly, her expression unreadable. “He seemed to eat everything without hesitation.”

Regulus spoke up again, his voice quieter but tinged with guilt. “Angel looked nervous before dinner, but he always looks nervous in new settings.”

“He did seem more comfortable as the evening went on,” Evan added. “He even laughed. If he was sick, wouldn’t it have shown earlier?”

“I should have noticed something,” Barty muttered, his frustration mounting. “Why didn’t he say anything?”

Adele finally broke her silence. “Perhaps,” she said softly, her words slow and deliberate, “his reaction to the food wasn’t because of an allergy or sickness. It might be something else entirely.”

The room turned to her, confusion written on their faces.

“What do you mean, Mom?” Evan asked, narrowing his eyes.

Adele hesitated, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Think about it. James is an immigrant. He lives in a neighborhood we wouldn’t dare visit after dark. His clothes, while clean, are far from tailored or well-fitted. And…” she paused, her voice dropping. “He’s malnourished.”

Axel blinked, taken aback. “You think he’s starving?”

“No,” Adele said quickly, though doubt flickered in her tone. “Not starving. Just… not used to abundance. If he’s accustomed to going hungry—or eating sparsely—it might explain why a rich meal would upset his stomach.”

Barty stopped pacing, his face pale. “You think the food was too much for him? That he got sick because he’s not… used to it?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Regulus snapped defensively, though his tone wavered. “Sunshine would’ve said something if he needed help. He’s fine.”

“Is he?” Evan interjected, his gaze serious. “Doll never asks us for help. He didn’t want us to know he got sick tonight. That should tell us something.”

“But why?” Regulus said, his voice breaking slightly. “Why wouldn’t he just—”

“Because he’s proud,” Adele said gently. “He doesn’t want pity. And he likely doesn’t want to feel like he’s burdening you.”

The words hung in the air heavily.

Axel rubbed his temples. “This complicates things. If James doesn’t want us to know, how do we help him?”

“We don’t confront him,” Adele said firmly. “At least, not directly. We’re subtle about it. He needs to feel respected and secure, not scrutinized.”

“But we have to do something,” Barty said, his fists clenched. “We can’t just ignore this.”

“We won’t,” Evan reassured him, though his jaw was tight. “We’ll figure it out together. Jamie isn’t alone anymore.”

Regulus sank to the floor, his mind racing with guilt and worry. Finally, he whispered, “My Baby deserves better. Whatever he needs, we’ll give him.”

Adele nodded, though her expression was clouded with emotion. “Then we must tread carefully. For now, let’s respect his wishes and plan how best to support him without overstepping.”

Axel sighed heavily, motioning for the guards to leave. “Thank you for informing us. Keep this quiet, as James requested.”

The guards nodded, departing the room silently.

As the door closed, Barty threw himself onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands. “I hate this,” he muttered. “Hate not being able to fix it right now.”

Regulus sat beside him, his voice resolute. “We’ll fix it, Angel. One way or another.”

Evan crossed his arms, leaning against the fireplace. “But we’ll do it on his terms. He’s our Doll, and we’re going to prove to him that he can trust us.”

The Rosiers sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of their collective determination settling in the room.

Barty tossed and turned in his bed, the silence of the house only amplifying the noise in his head. No matter how many times he tried to dismiss the thought, Adele’s words echoed back to him.

"Malnourished."
"Not accustomed to abundance."

It didn’t sit right. Not because he didn’t believe her—deep down, he knew she was right—but because the thought of his Sunshine struggling, of James hiding that struggle from them, made his chest ache in ways he couldn’t explain.

With a frustrated sigh, Barty sat up and scrubbed his face with his hands. He couldn’t sleep like this. Throwing off the covers, he padded down the hall in his socks, stopping in front of Regulus’ door.

He knocked softly. “Regs? You awake?”

There was a rustling noise before Regulus’ low voice called out, “Come in.”

Barty pushed the door open, stepping into the familiar dim light of Regulus’ room. Regulus was seated on his bed, legs crossed, a leather-bound journal resting on his lap. Soft classical music filled the air. Barty didn’t have to ask what he was doing—it was clear. Journaling had always been Regulus’ way of processing things.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Barty asked as he sat down beside him, leaning his head on Regulus’ shoulder.

“No,” Regulus admitted quietly, his pen pausing on the page. “I keep thinking about Angel. About why he might have…” He trailed off, his expression tightening.

Barty nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s driving me insane. I keep telling myself there’s another reason, something we haven’t thought of yet, but…”

“Adele’s theory makes sense,” Regulus finished, his voice clipped.

Neither of them wanted to admit it out loud, but they both felt the weight of it—the possibility that their sweet Doll was going without.

The silence lingered until Barty, needing the comfort of his boyfriend, moved behind Regulus and wrapped his arms around his waist. He nuzzled into Regulus’ neck and murmured, “Wanna go to Evan’s?”

Regulus exhaled, closing his journal. “Yeah. I think I’d feel better if I was with you two.”

Barty pressed a kiss to the back of Regulus’ neck. “Me too, Love.”

Regulus stood, turning off his music before offering Barty a small smile. “Let’s go.”

The two boys crept into Evan’s room a few minutes later. Evan was sound asleep, sprawled across the massive bed, his expression calm and relaxed in the dim moonlight streaming through the windows.

Barty chuckled softly, nudging Regulus. “Our Rosie looks too peaceful. You think he’ll get mad if we wake him?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to find out? Because I don’t feel like managing his tantrum tonight.”

“Fair.” Barty grinned before carefully slipping into bed. He tucked himself against Evan’s side, and Regulus followed suit on the other side, sliding in as quietly as possible.

Evan stirred slightly, instinctively pulling both boys closer to him, his strong arms holding them possessively even in his sleep.

“Rosie always knows when we’re around, huh?” Barty whispered, a hint of affection coloring his tone.

Regulus smiled faintly, his head resting on Evan’s chest. “Of course. He’s always been the protective one.”

Evan let out a soft sigh, burying his face in Regulus’ hair. “Stay,” he mumbled groggily, his voice thick with sleep.

“We’re not going anywhere, Evan,” Barty murmured back, brushing a hand through Evan’s messy curls.

Evan’s hold on them tightened, and he mumbled something incoherent before settling again.

Regulus turned his head to meet Barty’s gaze, his gray eyes softer than usual. “I think we’re going to be okay,” he said quietly, his voice so low only Barty could hear.

Barty pressed a quick kiss to Regulus’ temple, smiling against his skin. “Of course we are. We’ve got each other.”

Within minutes, Regulus and Barty, soothed by Evan’s warmth, fell into a peaceful sleep, the weight of their worries lightened—if only for a while.

The sunlight filtered through the curtains of Evan’s room, illuminating the cozy chaos of three boys tangled up in bed. Evan stirred awake first, his hazel eyes blinking away the morning haze. His gaze drifted down to his boyfriends, both clinging to him like he was a personal heater.

A smug smile curved his lips as he gently nudged Barty with his free hand. “When did you two sneak in last night, hmm?”

Barty groaned softly, burrowing closer into Evan’s side. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled sleepily. “You calm us.”

Evan’s heart swelled, and his expression softened. “Thank you, Darling,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of Barty’s messy hair.

Regulus stirred next, pulling himself away from Evan just enough to sit up and grab his phone from the nightstand. Unlocking it, his sharp eyes scanned the screen.

“Angel, you’ve got to hear this,” Regulus said, his tone low but edged with simmering annoyance.

“Hear what, Mon Amour?” Evan asked as he stroked his boyfriend’s arm soothingly.

“James,” Regulus started, reading the message aloud. “‘Thank you for hosting me. The food was delicious.’”

Evan’s lips twitched into a small smile. “That’s sweet.”

“Sweet?!” Regulus snapped, glaring at his phone as though it had personally insulted him. “He doesn’t need to thank us. He shouldn’t have to thank us. And the food comment—he threw it up! Why is he lying to us?”

Barty, now half-awake, chuckled softly against Evan’s chest. “Regs, he’s just being polite. You know how our Baby Boy is.”

Regulus exhaled sharply, his brows furrowing. “I know, but lying about it? He doesn’t need to pretend with us. We care about him.”

“Mon Amour,” Evan said gently, sitting up and running a hand through his unruly curls, “trust takes time. James barely knows us, and we haven’t exactly been the most... approachable. You can’t expect him to pour out his soul right away.”

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering in French under his breath.

Barty sat up, smoothing his shirt, his mismatched eyes twinkling with amusement despite his concern. “Also, Starling, we haven’t even officially asked him to join us yet. Maybe let him ease into it? No pressure, no expectations. Just... give him room to be himself.”

Regulus looked between his boyfriends and sighed, tension ebbing from his shoulders. “You’re right. I’m being irrational.”

Evan leaned forward, capturing Regulus’ lips in a soft kiss. “Not irrational, Lovely. Just protective.”

Barty leaned into Regulus from the other side, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on Regulus’ shoulder. “We’re all protective of Sunshine. That’s why we’ll figure it out together.”

Regulus allowed himself a small smile, leaning into the comfort of their shared warmth. “Together,” he echoed.

“Always,” Evan and Barty said in unison, grinning as Regulus let out a quiet laugh.

The room grew quiet again, the tension from moments before dissipating. Regulus leaned against Evan while Barty snuggled closer, their thoughts lingering on James and the path ahead. They knew it would take time, but they’d wait—because James was worth it.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER EIGHT

Regulus: Hey, Angel. Want to come over for lunch? Just the three of us today.
Barty: We missed you, Baby Boy. Come eat with us?

There was a pause. Three sets of eyes watched the phone screen, waiting. Evan’s foot tapped anxiously against the floor, Barty curled into Regulus’ side, and Regulus stared down at the screen like he could will James into responding.

James: I… I don’t know. After yesterday with Sirius, maybe I should give your family space.

Regulus immediately began typing.

Regulus: You’re staying away because of what Sirius said?
Evan: He won’t be there. Just us. Just home.
Barty: Let us take care of you, Sunshine.

A long minute passed. 

James: Okay. If you’re sure.
Regulus: We’re sure.
Evan: We’ll pick you up at the restaurant at 11:30?
James: Alright. Thank you.

The clock read 11:27 when Regulus, Evan, and Barty pulled up outside the restaurant. The sleek black car slowed to a stop in the parking lot, engine purring softly. All three of them leaned forward slightly, expecting to see James waiting outside with that nervous smile. 

But the sidewalk was empty.

Regulus frowned. “He’s not out here.”

“Maybe he’s still inside,” Barty offered, though a flicker of unease passed over his face.

Evan leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Park the car, please. We’ll go in.”

They stepped out of the car together, the warm breeze tousling their hair as they made their way toward the restaurant entrance. As soon as the door swung open, they were hit with the delicious, mouthwatering aroma of spiced meats, fresh cilantro, and warm tortillas.

“Oh my god,” Barty groaned dramatically. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

Regulus laughed, the sound fond and bright. He reached out to ruffle Barty’s curls before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Of course you’re hungry. You barely ate this morning.”

“I was sleepy!” Barty defended. “Sleep is important too, Mon Amour.”

“Of course it is, Darling.” Regulus smiled, glancing around the restaurant. “Anyone see him?”

“No,” Evan said, craning his neck. “Maybe he’s still in the bathroom?”

“While we wait,” Barty said hopefully, “can we get to-go? Please?”

Regulus snorted and squeezed Barty’s hand. “Of course. Anyone remember what our Bambi likes?”

Evan gave him a look. “Do you even need to ask?” He stepped up to the host counter and flashed the worker a charming smile. “Hi, can I place a to-go order for four?”

After ordering their meals flawlessly, Evan shot Regulus a smug smile.

The host typed the order into the screen. “It’ll be ready in ten minutes. Name?”

“Evan,” he said, handing over his card.

As they stepped back, Barty gave him a pleased nudge. “You’re the best, Rose.”

Regulus exhaled through his nose, his mind still half-occupied. “I don’t like that he wasn’t outside. It’s not like him to be late.”

Evan nodded solemnly. “Let’s give it a few more minutes. He might’ve just lost track of time.”

Just as Evan handed off the receipt and stepped back to wait for the to-go bags, Regulus caught a glimpse of a tall figure near the far end of the restaurant, standing by the entrance to the bathrooms. 

“James,” Regulus murmured under his breath, already moving. He weaved between the tables, making a beeline for the man, and tapped him on the shoulder.

The man turned around.

Regulus froze.

That wasn’t James.

The man was older, with streaks of gray in his thick black curls and crow’s feet crinkling around his warm eyes. He raised a brow at Regulus’ stunned expression and then let out a hearty laugh.

“Ah, you must be one of James’ friends.”

Regulus blinked, still processing. “I—sorry, I thought you were—”

The man extended a hand. “Fleamont Potter. James’ father.”

Regulus' mouth opened slightly. “Oh.” Then, shaking off his awkwardness, he grasped the offered hand. “Regulus Black.”

Evan and Barty reached them a second later, eyebrows raised. Evan glanced between Regulus and the stranger. “Everything alright?”

“Evan Rosier,” Fleamont said before Regulus could speak, then looked at Barty. “And you must be Barty Crouch Jr.”

Barty’s brows shot up. “You know who we are?”

Fleamont chuckled. “Well, you’re the people James is talking to, aren’t you?”

Barty’s face split into a pleased grin, smug and bright. “So he has been talking about us.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Evan added, ever polite. “We’ve been hoping to someday. Maybe we can have dinner together soon?”

“I’d love that,” Fleamont said, his tone light. “James does seem… fond of you lot.”

Just as he turned, preparing to leave, Regulus hesitated, then asked, “Wait—do you know where he is? We were supposed to meet him here.”

Fleamont reached into his coat and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, squinting at a map. “He’s still at the house,” he said, tilting the screen toward them. “That little dot is James.”

Regulus leaned closer to confirm. His brows knit together. “But… he texted us back this morning. He agreed to meet us here.”

“Must’ve forgotten,” Fleamont said with a shrug. “Happens.”

Evan smiled tightly. “Thank you, Mr. Potter.”

The three of them exited the restaurant, the to-go bags swinging from Evan’s hand, and slipped back into the car. The guards immediately pulled out of the lot and back onto the road.

Barty pulled out his phone and scrolled up in their group chat. “We did tell him to meet us at the restaurant, right? I wasn’t just assuming?”

“Nope,” he muttered, showing the screen to Regulus. “Look. Eleven thirty. Restaurant. Clear as day.”

Regulus rubbed his eyes. “Then why the hell is he still at home?”

Evan leaned forward, eyes on the road. “I saw the address on Fleamont’s phone. I recognized the street. We’ll just drive over and pick him up.”

Regulus frowned, fingers drumming against the armrest. “Adel and Axel told us not to go near James’ district. Said it was a bad area. Too risky.”

“We’re just popping in and out,” Evan said with a shrug. “Besides, we’re in a bullet-proof car with two bodyguards and a reinforced engine. We’ll be fine.”

“You sound like Barty.”

“Thank you,” Barty chirped.

Regulus rolled his eyes but unlocked his phone and opened the chat. He typed a message quickly.

Regulus: We’re coming to pick you up from your place, Jamie. You okay?

The message delivered. And stayed delivered. Not read. Not responded to.

Regulus stared at the screen. Then tapped it. As if that would change anything.

“Still delivered,” he muttered. “He hasn’t read it.”

A silence settled in the car. Tense and prickly.

Barty looked at Evan through the rearview mirror. “Let’s get there fast.”

Evan nodded once, his voice low and certain. “Already on it.”

The car slowed to a stop in front of James’ house, and the moment it did, silence fell over the group like a thick, suffocating blanket. Even before stepping out, the damage was visible.

The house was in shambles.

Peeling paint clung desperately to the sides of the wood, which had begun to rot near the base. The roof was sagging, as though weighed down by years of neglect. Windows were clouded with dirt and smudged fingerprints, and the front porch looked ready to collapse under its own weight. The yard was bare—patchy brown grass, a few shattered plant pots, and garbage littering the steps.

It was way worse than any of them had imagined.

Barty stared at it in disbelief. “This… this is where he lives?”

Evan didn’t respond. He opened the group chat and sent one last message.

Evan: We’re outside, sweetheart.

They waited five minutes. Nothing. The text remained on delivered.

“Maybe he’s asleep,” Barty said softly, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

Evan got out first, approaching the house with careful steps. Regulus and Barty followed. Evan reached the door and knocked firmly.

The moment his knuckles met the wood, it creaked open.

It hadn’t been locked.

Hadn’t even been closed.

Evan froze for a beat. “It was already open,” he murmured, glancing back at them. He pushed the door gently, and it swung inward with a loud groan.

“I feel like we’re overstepping,” Regulus said under his breath, but he stepped forward anyway, hand brushing Barty’s as they entered.

The cold hit them immediately. It was the same bitter temperature as outside, if not worse. A rush of air moved through the hallway, icy and sharp. 

Inside, the house was bleak. The walls were discolored from water damage, the ceiling cracked. A single flickering bulb cast weak, yellow light into the entryway, and the floor creaked with every step they took.

The trio exchanged looks, but said nothing.

They moved slowly, checking each door they passed. The kitchen was empty—its sink piled with dishes, the cupboards sparse and mismatched. The living room had a tattered couch. A pile of blankets and a cracked space heater sat useless in the corner. No sign of James.

Finally, after climbing the stairs—every step groaning beneath them—they found a door at the end of the hall with a crooked wooden sign taped to it in bright red marker.

James.

Regulus reached for the knob. It turned easily.

The moment the door opened, their hearts sank.

The room wasn’t just cold. It was freezing.

James was curled tightly on the bed, cocooned in a worn blanket that was far too thin for the weather. He was fast asleep, body coiled into itself, shivering visibly. His skin was pale, lips tinged slightly blue, and even from across the room, they could hear the soft, uneven breaths he took.

Evan moved first. He strode over, ripping off his hoodie without a second thought, and laid it gently over James’ trembling body.

James didn’t stir.

Regulus swallowed hard, eyes scanning the room. There was barely anything here. Just a mattress on the floor, a desk littered with schoolbooks, and a closet door that wouldn’t close properly. No heater. No proper bedding. No insulation.

He turned to his boyfriends, voice low and firm. “We are not going to comment on this. On the house. On him. Nothing. We act normal. Understand?”

Barty nodded solemnly. Evan was already kneeling beside James, brushing a hand carefully through his dark, greasy hair.

The strands clumped beneath Evan’s fingers, tangled and unwashed.

He didn't flinch.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice so soft it nearly cracked. “We’re here. You’re okay.”

James didn’t wake, but his body twitched slightly at the sound.

Regulus moved beside Evan, reaching out to rub James’ arm gently over the hoodie. “Let’s get you warmed up,” he murmured. “We’ve got your favorite food. Barty wanted extra chips.”

James woke up slowly, eyelids fluttering as his mind sluggishly crawled back to consciousness. The world around him was still dim, the air still bitter with cold, but something was different. His vision cleared just enough to make out familiar shapes.

Regulus. Evan. Barty.

He blinked hard, his breath catching as everything slammed into focus at once. His stomach twisted.

He overslept.

He missed their lunch.

And now they are here . In his house. In this house.

James jolted upright, throwing the hoodie off him and nearly tripping over the tangled blankets. “Oh my god—I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to—I overslept—I was going to be there, I swear—” he started rambling, voice sharp and panicked as his eyes darted between them.

Evan was beside him in an instant, resting a calming hand on his shoulder. “No worries,” he said gently, cutting through James’ spiral like a blade through mist. “C’mon, let’s go, Sunshine.”

The nickname worked like a balm. James’ shoulders dropped slightly, and he nodded, cheeks still red from both sleep and shame. They helped him out of bed, and the four of them walked out of the room together.

But every step made James’ stomach twist further.

Now that he was fully awake, the shame settled like a stone in his gut. He didn’t need to look around to remember what they’d seen. The broken windows with duct tape holding the cracks together. The chipped wallpaper that peeled like dead skin. The secondhand furniture with sagging cushions, and the barely-functional space heater by the stairs.

This was not how they were supposed to see him.

This was the part of his life James kept carefully hidden. They weren’t supposed to see the poverty, the neglect, the parts of his reality that he carried like scars. Now that they had, he couldn't stop imagining what they'd think.

They’d pity him.

Or worse—they’d see him differently. As something fragile. As something less .

By the time they reached the limo and the heavy door shut behind them, James could hardly meet their eyes. The interior was warm—unbearably so compared to the frozen tomb of his house—but he couldn’t relax. 

The drivers didn’t start the engine, the hum of silence thick behind the privacy partition. No one spoke for a beat. 

“Love, buckle,” Barty said, cutting through the quiet.

James blinked and looked up, startled. “What?”

Barty grinned, clearly amused. “Seatbelt,” he teased. Before James could fumble for it, Barty leaned over and buckled it for him with a playful click. Then, without saying a word, he pressed the button beside James’ hip to turn on his seat warmer.

James flinched slightly at the heat, then melted into it with an involuntary sigh. He was still shivering. Still frozen to the bone.

But now his face was burning for a different reason.

He glanced between them. They weren’t saying anything about the house. No words. No side glances. No awkward silences. No expressions of pity or discomfort.

They were acting like everything was normal.

And that—that overwhelmed James more than anything.

Tears prickled behind his eyes, unbidden. He blinked them away quickly, trying not to sniffle or look like he was about to cry. He wasn’t going to cry in front of them. He wasn’t.

Regulus reached over and began gently petting James’ hair, fingers combing carefully through the tangled mess. James let out a soft exhale, eyes fluttering closed at the soothing gesture. 

But Regulus’ brows drew together into a subtle frown. The strands were matted and greasy, sticking in places and knotting together in others. It was obvious James hadn’t been taking care of himself—not properly. Not for a while.

Still, Regulus didn’t say that.

Instead, he sighed, letting his hand continue to move with quiet patience. “Alright, love,” he said, his voice low but firm, “here’s the plan. Once we get back to the house, you’re gonna take a hot shower—no arguments—and then we’ll help you get all these knots out.”

Immediately, James recoiled like he’d been burned, pulling his head away from Regulus’ hand. His eyes widened in embarrassment, and he hunched further into the seat.

“I—I’m sorry,” he mumbled, barely audible. “I probably smell. I didn’t—didn’t mean to—”

Regulus burst out laughing, the sudden sound light and genuine. He reached forward and tugged James back into his side. “You smell perfect, baby,” he said with a grin, pressing a kiss to James’ temple.

James blinked up at him, startled.

Barty leaned forward from the seat across from them, his expression softening. “We just wanna help you fix your hair, sweetheart,” he said, voice uncharacteristically gentle. “That way we can play with it after. I wanna try braiding it.”

That pulled a small, reluctant smile from James. His cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head, hiding half his face in Regulus’ shoulder. 

It wasn’t much, but it was something—and the three boys exchanged a brief glance over his head. Progress.

“After that,” Evan added, glancing up from his phone, “we’re eating the food we got from your parents’ restaurant.”

James’s head snapped up. “You bought me food from my own restaurant?”

Evan grinned, eyes sparkling. “Of course we did.”

Barty gave a smug little shrug, clearly proud of himself. “Your dad tried to give us a discount too. Real stubborn guy. Wouldn’t shut up about you.”

James’s mouth fell open. “ You met my dad?! ”

Evan nodded, laughing now. “We did. While you were asleep. He’s great, by the way. Apparently, you’ve been talking about us quite a bit.”

James groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh my god. Please tell me he didn’t pull out the baby pictures.”

“No baby pictures,” Barty assured, though his smirk suggested he wasn’t telling the whole truth. “This time.”

Regulus chuckled beside him and rubbed slow circles into James’ back. James curled further into Regulus’ side, trying to process the fact that none of them had said anything cruel or even awkward about the house.

No judgment. No pity. Just care.

“And after we eat,” Barty added casually, “we’re watching a movie. That way sleepy James can rest.”

“Who?” James deadpanned.

Barty poked his cheek. “ You. Sleepy James.”

James laughed, a soft little sound that cracked open something tender in the car. He wasn’t shrinking away anymore. He wasn’t hiding. Not from them.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NINE

The car slowed to a stop outside the Rosier mansion. James stared out the tinted window, still slightly dazed, and unsure if he was meant to be here.

But Regulus didn’t give him time to hesitate. He stepped out first, then reached back inside with an open palm. James blinked at it for a moment before placing his hand into Regulus’. It was warm, secure, steady. He let himself be pulled from the car and into the house.

Barty and Evan trailed behind them, quiet but close, and none of them let go of James for too long. As soon as they entered the grand foyer, Regulus guided him up the stairs and down a long hallway. They passed expensive paintings and sculptures, but James hardly noticed. His heart beat too loud. His head was too full.

Regulus’ room was just as elegant as James had expected—dark walls, clean lines, and a bookshelf organized with ruthless precision. It felt lived-in, but in a controlled way, not messy or chaotic. Everything had its place.

Regulus led James directly into the adjoining bathroom, a space somehow larger than James’ entire bedroom at home. The shower looked like something out of a beauty catalog. A glass-enclosed space with a rain-head spout and several knobs James couldn’t decipher.

“This knob controls the temperature,” Regulus explained, tapping it gently. “And this one adjusts the water pressure. You can change the setting if you want the jets to hit your back or shoulders.”

James nodded slowly, overwhelmed already.

Evan handed him a set of items: shampoo, conditioner, body wash, a loofah, and a soft white towel. James took them in his arms, gripping them a bit too tightly.

“We’ll wait outside,” Barty said with a small smile. “Take your time, Bambi.”

“Yeah,” Evan added. “No rush. Just yell if you need anything.”

The three of them stepped out and gently closed the door behind them, leaving James standing alone in the middle of the extravagant bathroom. For a long moment, he simply stared at the shower, heart thudding in his chest.

He didn’t belong here.

Still, his body ached. His skin itched. His scalp felt sore and tight. So he set the products down, stripped off his clothes, and stepped under the water.

And he nearly cried from how good it felt.

The warmth enveloped him, pouring over his shoulders like a blanket. He stood under the spray for several minutes, motionless, just breathing. The hot water cascaded down his spine, undoing a week’s worth of tension. He didn’t have to worry about how long he stayed or how high the bill would be or if the pipes would groan from overuse.

But the relief didn’t last.

When he finally worked the shampoo into his hair, the water at his feet turned brown from the dirt, sweat, and grime that had built up. James froze as shame twisted in his gut. He watched the tinted water swirl around the drain and felt tears slip silently down his cheeks. They mingled with the water, indistinguishable from the rest.

He rinsed the shampoo out slowly and then reached for the conditioner, remembering Regulus’ instructions: “Let it sit for five minutes. Makes it easier to comb through.”

James did as he was told.

With conditioner coating his hair, he leaned against the fogged glass of the shower door. The warmth continued to beat down on his back, and with a trembling finger, he began to draw. A flower. A cloud. A stick figure. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe to feel a little more normal. Maybe to ground himself.

By the time the five minutes passed, the drawings had started to fade.

James grabbed the loofah next and worked the body wash over his skin. His limbs felt thinner than ever under his own touch, the ridges of his ribs visible even beneath the bubbles. He didn’t let himself dwell on it. He just focused on scrubbing gently. 

Like he was trying to wash away more than just dirt.

When he finally stepped out of the shower, wrapped in the towel and blinking against the sudden stillness, James didn’t feel clean so much as exposed. 

Outside the bathroom, the three boys lounged on Regulus’ bed, waiting patiently but attentively. The moment the sound of rushing water stopped, they exchanged glances. Evan hopped off the edge of the bed to grab the clothes they’d carefully picked out earlier.

They’d debated over it—something soft and oversized enough to feel safe but not so large it swallowed James whole. In the end, they chose a navy hoodie that had once belonged to Evan but had mysteriously migrated into Regulus’ closet, and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist. 

Evan approached the door and knocked gently. “James?” he called, cracking the door open just enough to slide his arm through. “Got your clothes, Sunshine.”

A warm, damp hand accepted them gratefully. “Thanks,” James said softly from the other side, his voice muffled but sincere.

Evan closed the door again and leaned against the wall, smiling faintly. “He sounds better already.”

Two minutes later, Regulus stepped up to the bathroom door and knocked again, this time more softly. “Can we come in now?”

There was a pause before the door creaked open.

James stood there, now dressed in the hoodie and sweatpants. The sweatpants hung past his hips, but the hoodie covered him, easily reaching his thighs. He looked warmer. Cleaner. The hoodie’s collar was slightly damp from his wet hair, and there was a sheepish flush in his cheeks.

Barty grinned, stepping forward immediately. “Look at you,” he said, ruffling James’ damp hair without hesitation. The curls clung slightly to his fingers. “So fluffy.”

James ducked his head with a soft laugh, not pulling away.

Regulus beckoned him over to the vanity across the room. “Come on, sit. Let’s get your hair sorted.”

James sat obediently on the plush stool in front of the mirror, watching their reflections. Regulus stood behind him, picking up a wide-toothed comb, while Barty and Evan sat cross-legged on the bed.

The conditioner had done most of the work. Regulus combed through James’ hair slowly but efficiently, murmuring soft reassurances each time he encountered a snag. “Almost done,” he said gently after only a few minutes. “You must’ve let it sit perfectly.”

James gave a small, pleased hum, grateful that it hadn’t taken long—or hurt.

Once Regulus finished, James grabbed the towel that still hung around his shoulders and began scrunching his hair, soaking up the excess water. Regulus stepped back to give him space, watching curiously.

When James pulled the towel away, his hair bounced into soft curls.

Regulus blinked, surprised. “Your hair’s curly?!”

Normally, that would’ve made James ashamed—that his hair was so unkept that Regulus didn’t know it was curly. However, James was amused by the awe in Regulus’ voice. “Yeah, didn’t you know?”

Then, without warning, he shook his head like a dog, sending droplets of water flying in every direction—right onto Regulus’ shirt.

Regulus shrieked and stumbled back. “James!”

Barty and Evan burst into laughter, one of them even falling sideways on the bed.

James grinned triumphantly, curls now springier and even more tousled. He gave Regulus an innocent look through his lashes.

Regulus narrowed his eyes and grabbed the nearest towel. With a flick of his wrist, he swatted James lightly on the shoulder. The sound was more startling than the actual hit.

James flinched, his whole body tensing in a split second. Regulus froze. His expression shifted immediately—mouth slightly open, the towel falling from his hand. His heart dropped.

But then James caught his reflection in the mirror and started laughing. “It didn’t hurt,” he assured quickly between chuckles. “You should’ve seen your face.”

Regulus let out a sharp exhale and pressed a hand over his eyes. “Don’t do that to me, baby.”

James was still giggling when Regulus picked up the towel and hit him again, even more gently this time, as if proving a point. “That’s for scaring me.”

Evan, still laughing, leaned against Barty’s shoulder. “God, he’s cute.”

“He’s dangerous ,” Regulus muttered, lips twitching. “And I mean that in the most literal sense.”

James beamed, curls bouncing as he turned to face them all. For the first time in a long while, he looked like himself.

After James finished drying off and changing, the group made their way downstairs to the kitchen. The sun had dipped beneath the horizon, and the Rosier kitchen was bathed in the soft golden glow. The scent of food lingered in the air, wafting from the brown takeout bags resting on the counter.

Barty was the first to make a move. With ease, he hopped up onto the counter and stretched his legs out like he owned the place—which he sort of did. He caught James around the waist as he passed, pulling him gently between his knees and into a loose embrace.

“You look so soft, baby,” Barty murmured into his ear. His voice was playfully whiney, like James had done something completely unfair to him by existing like this. Clean, warm, dressed in their clothes, with damp curls and flushed cheeks.

James blushed hard. He ducked his head, trying to hide his face against Barty’s shoulder, but that only exposed the curve of his neck. Barty, not one to waste an opportunity, leaned in and pecked a kiss to the delicate skin just beneath James’ ear, then another against the side of his throat.

Before James could combust, Regulus rescued him—though probably without realizing it—by calling out, “Food’s ready.” He started passing out containers, sliding them across the marble surface of the island. 

They didn’t bother sitting down properly, choosing instead to gather around the island, elbows bumping, feet nudging, containers open and steaming between them.

Evan, Barty, and Regulus kept a subtle eye on James. None of them said anything or hovered. But they tracked every move. The last time he’d eaten at their house, James had thrown up on the shoulder of the highway. 

They suspected the cause: malnourishment, sudden richness of food, his body too unused to being fed properly. But none of them brought it up now. Instead, they took turns gently encouraging him.

“Drink some water, sweetheart,” Evan said, nudging a glass toward him.

“You don’t have to finish all of it,” Regulus reminded him calmly. “We’ll just pop it in the fridge if you get full.”

James glanced up at them, a bit suspicious—but nodded. He took his time, chewing carefully, sipping water between bites. He didn’t talk much, just listened to the casual conversation flowing around him.

To their quiet relief, James made it through about three-quarters of his meal before setting his fork down with a soft sigh. “I’m full,” 

“You did so good,” Evan praised, already reaching to grab the container. “We’ll save the rest for later.”

“Proud of you,” Regulus said as he wiped down the counter.

With the food cleaned up and leftovers tucked into the fridge, the boys drifted toward the living room. It didn’t take long to settle in. The massive couch had more than enough room, though they ended up tangled together anyway, as if pulled by gravity.

Barty grabbed the remote and turned on The Lego Batman Movie without hesitation.

“Again?” Regulus groaned, only half-serious.

Barty threw a cushion at him. “It’s art.”

James curled between Regulus and Barty, his head resting lightly on Barty’s chest. Evan stretched out along the edge of the couch, feet tucked beneath Regulus’ thighs. Regulus ran his fingers through James’ curls absentmindedly, gently combing them apart and watching them spring back together.

The repetitive motion, the warmth of the room, and the gentle hum of voices lulled James toward sleep. His eyes grew heavier, blinks longer. Eventually, he stopped fighting it entirely.

When they noticed he’d fallen asleep, the room shifted instinctively. Barty turned the volume down to a low murmur. Evan grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch and laid it over James. Regulus adjusted the pillow behind James’ back, careful not to jostle him.

Barty smiled, pulling James even closer to his side, one arm wrapped snug around his waist. James murmured something incoherent in his sleep and burrowed in deeper.

Two hours passed in a warm haze. The movie eventually ended, but none of them moved. Another played quietly in the background, something low-effort and forgettable, serving only as ambient noise. 

Regulus gently reached out and gave James’ arm a small squeeze—firm enough to wake him without startling him. James stirred with a groggy little groan, blinking up at Regulus with dazed confusion.

“Wha’?” he slurred, voice heavy with sleep.

Evan leaned forward from his spot on the other side of the couch. “You fell asleep during the movie,” he said as if to soothe the transition from sleep to wakefulness. “We let you rest, but it’s seven now. Your parents will want you home soon.”

James’ eyes widened a little as awareness returned. “Oh—shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Relax,” Barty cut in, waving a hand lazily. “That was the whole point of the movie, sweetheart. So you’d relax and fall asleep. Worked like a charm.”

Still, Barty’s expression twisted slightly, his voice tipping toward a mock-offended whine. “I just think it’s interesting that he gets the gentle wake-up call. Meanwhile, Regulus yanks me out of bed like a prison guard on patrol.”

Regulus didn’t even look at him. “That’s because you sleep like the dead.”

Barty gasped. “I do not— ”

“You do,” Regulus deadpanned, standing to stretch. “I only do what I have to.”

James blinked between them, a sleepy, amused smile creeping onto his lips. But before the bickering could escalate, Evan looped an arm around James’ shoulders and gently tugged him toward the stairs.

“C’mon,” Evan said. “Let’s get your stuff packed.”

Upstairs, James began to take the hoodie off, preparing to return it. But Evan caught the motion and shook his head with a small smile.

“Keep them,” he said simply, “Stay warm. They look good on you.”

James flushed. “I—I can’t take your clothes. Or your shampoo. That’s too much.”

Because along with the hoodie and sweatpants, Evan had quietly placed a fresh travel-size bottle of their shampoo and conditioner in his bag. The expensive kind, the one James had used earlier and had practically melted under.

Barty leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed but smiling. “We want you to have it,” he said. “We like when you smell like us.”

James faltered, looking from one boyfriend to the next, uncertain. “But it’s yours.”

“It’s ours,” Evan corrected, “and now it’s yours, too.”

James opened his mouth to protest again, but Regulus looked up and fixed him with a sharp, steady gaze. The kind that cut through excuses before they could form.

“Don’t,” Regulus warned, voice calm but firm. “We’re giving them to you because we want to. Not because you owe us. Not because we expect anything back. Just take the damn gifts.”

James hesitated under the weight of that look. His mouth parted, clearly about to object again. But then he caught the flicker in Regulus’ eyes, that subtle don’t push this edge, and promptly shut it.

“Good,” Regulus nodded once, satisfied.

Evan zipped up the overnight bag, handed James a bottle of water for the drive. There was no rush, no hurry to get him out the door.

“You’ll text us when you’re home?” Evan asked.

“Yeah,” James promised, holding the bag close to his chest. 

“Good.” Barty kissed the top of his head.

And when James stepped into the cool evening, he felt heavier than he had when he arrived—but in a good way. Anchored. Wanted.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TEN

James knew he was disobeying.

Regulus had given a clear instruction before they hugged him goodbye at the front door. “Go straight to the gate, alright? The driver will be waiting. Text us when you’re in the car.” It hadn’t sounded like a suggestion. Regulus didn’t give suggestions, not when it came to James’ safety. Not when it involved James walking through the dark, alone.

Still, James had smiled, nodded, and promised. He’d even waved at them from the doorway, hoodie sleeves flapping slightly around his hands. His overnight bag was slung over his shoulder, curls bouncing with each step down the Rosier estate’s long path.

But as he walked, a quiet resistance stirred in his chest.

James hadn’t forgotten the last time he was driven home. The memory still made his stomach twist. The cold sweat, the nausea, the fatigue. He asked them to pull over, and threw up on the side of the highway. 

He’d begged the drivers not to say anything. Practically pleaded from the back seat, eyes wide with panic. Though they promised, James had a suspicion that they reported back to Evan, Regulus, and Barty.

Things had been different tonight. Regulus reassured James that he didn’t need to finish his plate. Evan reminded him to drink water. And when James finished three-quarters of his food, Barty grinned like James had won an award.

“Proud of you,” he’d said.

None of that was normal, and James wasn’t stupid. They knew. They knew. The drivers had told them.

That was enough to make James hesitate. He trusted the drivers to take him home—but he didn’t trust their word. Not anymore. And that was enough for him to disobey.

So he came up with a plan.

As instructed, he walked to the large iron gates of the Rosier property. The familiar black car was parked just beyond them. Two men in tailored black suits stood nearby. The title “driver” didn’t do them justice. They were bodyguards. James knew muscle when he saw it.

James swallowed thickly but kept his expression calm.

“Hey,” he greeted them casually, stepping up to the gate. “Change of plans—my dad’s picking me up instead. His car’s just a couple blocks down. He didn’t want to crowd the entrance.”

The drivers exchanged a glance.

James pulled out his phone, tapping quickly through an old message thread. He tilted the screen toward them. A fabricated old text from “Dad” glowed back at them:

Wait for me at the corner. I’m parked there already.

“See?” James said, forcing a sheepish laugh. “He gets nervous pulling up to places like this. Doesn’t like the attention.”

The drivers hesitated. One of them furrowed his brow, clearly uncertain.

James fought the urge to squirm. “I’ll be fine, promise. It’s just down the road.”

The taller of the two nodded slowly, still eyeing the phone. “Alright. Be safe. Text your… friends when you’re home.”

“I will,” James said quickly, already backing away.

They watched him as he left, and James kept his shoulders relaxed, his steps even. Only when he turned the corner, out of their line of sight, did he let out a shaky breath.

Idiots.

James walked home, each step heavier than the last. He knew that if Regulus, Evan, or Barty ever found out, they would lose their minds. Regulus would pace like a storm cloud, permanently disappointed. Barty would curse the air and fire the drivers who let him leave. Evan would go terrifyingly quiet in that calculating way of his, before saying something like, “We’re never letting you out alone again.”

And still, James walked.

He stayed beneath the streetlights, their artificial glow casting broken halos on the wet pavement. He traced them home like breadcrumbs, one pool of light to the next. 

The further he walked, the more the neighborhood shifted. The change was gradual but unmistakable. Houses became run-down and small, more tightly packed. Graffiti clung to the sides of shuttered stores. The air smelled different here—damp asphalt, rust, and cigarette smoke.

The worse the area became, the closer James was to home.

Then, twenty minutes out, it began to rain. It came down in steady sheets, soaking him instantly. Cold water ran down the back of his neck and collected in the cuffs of his borrowed sweatpants. 

Still, he didn’t slow. He just pulled up the hood of Evan’s hoodie and shoved his hands deep into the pocket, gripping his phone tightly to keep it dry.

He was nearly home. He just needed to move.

What James didn’t think about was how he looked. More specifically, how he looked to a police officer. A thin boy in baggy clothes, walking fast under flickering street lights. James’ head and hands were hidden. In the eyes of someone already suspicious, he would look like a threat.

James didn’t hear them coming.

One moment, he was focused on the sidewalk ahead. The next, a pair of strong hands seized him from behind and slammed him into a brick wall. Pain exploded through his cheek and jaw. His glasses shattered on impact, slicing just above James’ eye.

“ Ow—wait! What the hell—? Stop! ” James shouted, but his voice was muffled against the wall.

James struggled due to instinct. Therefore, his wrists were yanked behind his back, twisted painfully, and he felt the familiar metallic clink of handcuffs.

“ Don’t move! ” someone barked—a man, a police officer.

James twisted free for half a second, managing to turn around. “ I didn’t do anything— ”

Immediately, a fist sank into James’ stomach, punching the oxygen out of his lungs. James doubled over, one arm clutching his stomach, and the other held up. It was a defense, a surrender, a plea. 

The guard showed zero mercy. He kicked the back of James’ knee, which buckled instantly. James collapsed to the ground. 

“Stop resisting!” the officer shouted, as if James was still fighting.

He wasn’t.

James went still. Because it dawned on him now. This wasn’t about him. It was about the idea of him. This had happened before. He should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve known better.

The officer flipped James over, pressing his chest into the street. His hoodie— Evan’s hoodie —became soaked with rain, mud, tears, and blood. It stuck to his body like a second skin. 

The officer straddled James’ thighs, which assisted him in the art of manhandling an innocent child. He cuffed James' wrists behind his back. The metal was tight and abrasive. In time, a red ring of raw flesh would encircle James’ wrists.    

James said nothing.

The cop yanked James to his feet. Finally, James got a proper look at him. His name tag said ‘Johnson,’ which James assumed was his last name. 

His voice was gruff, laced with satisfaction, like he'd just made the catch of the night. “You’re under arrest for suspicious behavior,” The police officer said flatly. As if that was reasonable, and justified everything.  

Mr. Johnson shoved James into the back of the cop car. His shoulder slammed against the doorframe before he was crammed onto the sticky seat. The door slammed shut behind him, and a familiar silence set in—the kind of silence that came before cruelty.

Then, the taunting started.

“You know, if you didn’t want to get stopped, maybe don’t dress like a damn thug,” The police officer said, tone casual, like they were chatting about the weather.

James bit down on the inside of his cheek. The coppery taste of blood coated his tongue. He stayed silent. Any reaction—anger, disgust, even a sigh—could be twisted. If he defended himself, they’d call him combative. If he cried, they’d call him unstable. If he raised his voice, they’d call him dangerous.

“You from around here?” Mr. Johnson asked, not really wanting an answer. “Figures. This neighborhood’s been going downhill for years. Guess now I know why.”

James stared blankly out the window at his neighborhood. He was helpless, traveling further and further away from his home.

“You got a record?” he asked next, voice laced with mock interest. “Not yet, huh?”

Actually, James thought, I’ve been arrested multiple times. Each time, I was innocent.  

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of that.” the police officer cleared his throat, “Start you off right.”

When they reached the station, Mr. Johnson yanked the back door open and barked, “Out.”

James obeyed, stepping out onto the pavement as the rain continued to pour. He slipped slightly, but caught himself. The police officer grabbed his arm again, harder than necessary, and forced him inside.

“Are you ready for your mugshot, pretty boy?” he asked with a sneer, clearly taking in the state of James’ battered face. “Make sure you show off that good side.”

“Yes, sir,” James replied evenly. His tone was overly polite, every word clearly insincere. It was a subtle protest, yet sharp.

Mr. Johnson didn’t like that. But he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Stand there. Don’t move. Smile for the camera,” he ordered, “Make my work look good.” 

James didn’t smile—that would make him look guilty. Instead, he kept his lips pressed tightly together, and stared directly at the lens. James looked exhausted, humiliated, and pained—but still present. Still unbroken.

The officer grinned as he took the photo, then walked over to James and held the screen up to his face.

“Look what you did to yourself,” he mocked. “This one’s going in the system. Hope your friends like it.”

Actually, James’ friends would like it. Remus dug up James’ first mugshot from when he was ten. So young that his smile was missing a few teeth. Remus loved it so much that he framed it, and hung the mugshot in his room.

This mugshot was not as adorable. James stared at the image. His left cheekbone was purple and blue. There was a cut on his temple, and a streak of blood falling from it. To complete the look, James was dirty. Grime covered his neck and face. There was dried mud in his hair, which he’d just washed.

He saw only the proof of what Mr. Johnson had done to him. Not what he’d done.

He didn’t flinch.

That picture wasn’t his shame. It was theirs.

After the mugshot, they didn’t waste time. Another officer stepped forward, nodding to Mr. Johnson. He wore a tired, self-important scowl. His badge read ‘Clark.’ James immediately recognized him.

Mr. Clark had searched him last time.

James kept still as the officer approached, already knowing what was coming. It was supposed to be a pat down, something routine, something professional. But Mr. Clark didn’t do professional.

“Arms up,” the officer ordered, like James hadn’t done this before.

James obeyed without a word.

Mr. Clark started with James' shoulders, pressing down hard as if trying to crush bone. His hands worked roughly down James’ arms, pausing too long at the biceps, fingers squeezing like he was testing ripeness.

Then, he ran his fingers through James’ soaked curls, yanking hard at knots, laughing under his breath. James flinched.

“Relax,” Mr. Clark muttered. “Just doing my job.”

He moved on to James’ chest. His palms flattened against James’ sternum, as if he was trying to cave it in. Then, Mr. Clark’s hands slid across James’ ribs and hips with unnecessary force. He poked a fresh bruise from the arrest. James winced—couldn’t help it—and Mr. Clark scowled.

“Don’t move,” he snapped.

“I’m not,” James said quietly, barely more than a whisper.

Mr. Clark grunted and continued. He didn’t miss a single spot. The worst touch was to James’ thighs. He squeezed them, tapping the insides like he wanted him to flinch.

Then, he stepped back just far enough to issue his next command.

“Shirt off.”

James didn’t move right away.

“I said—”

“I heard you,” James replied, biting down the tremble in his voice. He peeled off Evan’s hoodie and the T-shirt underneath it. James held them out.

Mr. Clark didn’t take them. Instead, his eyes ran over James’ bruises. The bastard looked pleased.

“Well, look at you,” Mr. Clark said, voice mocking. “Skin and bones. You eat at all, kid?”

James said nothing.

When Mr. Clark finally finished, he stepped back like he was bored. “Twitchy little thing. Try moving again and see what happens.”

James exhaled slowly through his nose. He didn't fight, didn’t even blink. That was what they wanted—for him to lose composure.

Mr. Clark unceremoniously threw James his muddy, rain-soaked clothes, and turned away. “Put ‘em on. You're done.”

The moment James was dressed, he was escorted silently down the narrow hallway toward the holding cells. Everything in the station smelled like disinfectant and mildew.

James was wordlessly shoved into a familiar holding cell. He sat in the far corner, curling into a ball. He pulled his knees up to his chest, and rested his arms on top of them. 

James didn’t resist. He didn’t complain. He knew the drill.

They’d keep him in a cell for at least four hours. Meanwhile, Mr. Johnson and Mr. Clark would struggle to piece together a report that justified James’ arrest. They’d throw around phrases like suspicious behavior , hoping something stuck.

James would get one phone call. Remus, Marlene, and Dorcas would show up to pressure the officers. Eventually, the charges—whatever they decided to invent—would be dropped. 

They’d let James go with some half-assed warning about staying out of trouble. Wasting his time, beating him up, humiliating him, and letting him go. 

The usual.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER ELEVEN

James rotted in the cell. The walls were off-white, the floor stained from decades of neglect. Every so often, the flickering light above him would buzz faintly, and the cell bars cast long shadows on the floor.

He’d been there for hours. Just as he predicted.

James tried to distract himself. He shifted his mind to earlier that evening, forcing himself to remember everything in perfect detail.

The heavenly shower washed days of grime off of James’ body. It felt like shedding off a thick layer of shame. Regulus detangled James’ hair cautiously, bringing the curls back to life. 

All of that progress is gone now. 

The trio encouraged James through a meal, praising him for every bite. Originally, their actions felt slightly suffocating. 

James yearned for their love now. 

Sleep claimed James shortly after the meal. Regulus had woken him up so gently. James could still feel the press of Regulus’ fingers against his arm.

Gentle touches were foreign now. 

Evan packed a bag for James. The leftover food, shampoo and conditioner, and a throw blanket. Gifts that James would be sent home with. 

Those items were lost to James now.

It had been a perfect evening—perfect in that quiet way James loved. The kind of perfect that made him feel like he belonged, even if only for a few hours.

Then James walked home, and everything went downhill.

The more he sat there, the more his mind circled back to Regulus, Evan, and Barty. If he called them things would change. They were rich and important, so the police officers would respect them. Their presence alone could get James out faster. Or at the very least, stop the humiliation.

Still, James hesitated.

He wasn’t ready to see the disappointment on their faces.

The clatter of keys made him flinch. Then came the loud, metallic bang of Mr. Johnson slamming his baton against the bars.

“Up,” the police officer grunted. “Time for your call.”

James unfolded himself slowly, biting down any sound of pain. He stepped toward the bars where Johnson stood with a thick, black landline phone, trailing a long coil of wire.

“Don’t get smart,” Mr. Johnson muttered as he handed it over. “One call. Keep it short.”

James nodded and turned away slightly as he raised the phone. He recited Regulus’ number from memory. He’d never typed it in before, but of course he remembered it—every digit burned into his brain.

Two rings. Then Regulus answered, clipped and sharp. “Hello? Who is this?”

James swallowed thickly. “It’s me.”

There was a pause. Then, confusion. “James?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I not have your number saved?”

James shamefully glanced at the cracked floor. “I’m not calling from my phone.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

Regulus’ voice came through again, lower, concerned. “Did you get home safe?”

A heavy wave of dread crashed over James, sinking into his chest. His hands trembled uncontrollably, the receiver of the landline jittering against his ear with every shake. His stomach twisted into tight knots—fluttering with anxious butterflies, their wings sharp and unforgiving. His throat constricted as though invisible hands were tightening around it, cutting off his voice before it could form. 

How the hell was he supposed to explain this?

Regulus didn’t wait for James to say another word.

The moment he heard the hesitation in James’ voice, he shot up from the sofa. The scratchy edge of discomfort that plagued James’ voice unease Regulus. He clutched the phone tighter. Something was wrong.

“Evan. Barty.” Regulus shook both of his boyfriends by the shoulders, His voice stripped of its usual calm. “James is on the phone.”

Evan blinked and rubbed the sleep from his face. “What time is it?” he mumbled, voice groggy.

“I don’t care,” Regulus snapped. He put the call on speaker and cranked up the volume. “James, tell us what’s going on. Right now.”

“I disobeyed you,” James said with profound guilt. “The drivers didn’t take me home.”

Now wide awake, Barty sat up fully. Evan froze in place beside him, eyes narrowing as he stared at the speaker. The air thickened between them like fog.

“Oh, baby,” Evan murmured, voice gentle and full of pity. “We already know.”

“We figured,” Barty explained, his jaw set. “The drivers called when you didn’t get into the car. Said Mr. Potter was picking you up. We didn’t want to make it a thing. We trusted your father to get you home safely.”

This did nothing to ease James’ guilt. If anything, it became worse. Because he’d not only lied to the drivers, he’d lied to Regulus, Evan, and Barty. 

“My dad didn’t take me home,” James said softly.

The words were a stone in water. They broke the surface with sudden weight, disturbing everything in their wake. First came the outward rings—shock, confusion, denial, and panic. 

But then, the words sank. They burrowed down, pressing into the unseen depths where emotions settled. Long after the sound had faded, the impact lingered—felt more than heard, impossible to ignore.

“But,” Regulus said, forcing himself to speak. “The drivers told us your father was parked down the street. They saw a text.”

He wanted it to be true. Needed it to be true. It wasn’t just a wish—it was a craving. He whispered it under his breath like a prayer. Repeated it in his mind like a mantra. Because Regulus couldn’t admit otherwise.

James took in a loud and shaky breath, which could be heard on the other end of the line. He forced a confession past his lips.  “I lied. That text was from a month ago.”

The confession took the breath from their lungs, leaving them gasping in stunned silence. Panic surged through their veins, igniting every nerve with the sudden shock of truth laid bare. It was the kind of moment that seemed to stretch time, where seconds elongated into eternities and reality blurred at the edges. 

No one said a word. What was there to say?

James filled that silence on instinct. “I walked home.”

Regulus repeated his previous question. “Did you get home safe?”

James hesitated. Just for a second, but it was enough to confirm what they already feared.

“No.”

The moment that single word was spoken, everything changed. Regulus, Evan, and Barty didn’t just react—they exploded into motion. The room, once solid and still, became a vacuum—no air or sound. Only the crushing weight of urgency. It wasn't just a reaction. It was instinct. 

“Where are you?” Barty’s voice sliced through the chaos. There was no room for hesitation in his tone. Only panic cloaked in control. It wasn’t even a question—it was a command.

James stammered, thrown by the abruptness of the question. “Wait, I—I can explain. I walked home because the drivers—”

“Stop,” Evan silenced James with ease. “You’ll tell the story later. Just give us your location.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. James hesitated out of shame. Of course, James was innocent when it came to his arrest. However, he chose to drag others into the mess. Regulus, Evan, and Barty didn’t deserve this. 

“Now , James.” 

Then again, they seemed pretty eager to help. Plus, James had only one phone call, so they were the only ones who could assist him now.

“Stop torturing us.” Barty basically pleaded.

“I’m at the Montrose Police Station,” James admitted. “I got arrested.”

Without a word, Evan rose to grab his coat. Barty chuckled darkly, as if James’ situation was some sort of cruel joke. Already reaching for his wallet was Regulus. “We’ll pay your bail,” he said with absolute authority.

But James, somehow, still found the strength to argue. “Oh! That’s not necessary!” he said quickly. “Seriously. My crime is walking in the rain at night, or ‘suspicious behavior.’ That’s it.”

He sounded tired. Not just from the ordeal, but from the familiarity of it all. Like he’d said this before. Too many fucking times.

“The charge won’t hold up in court, and the police officers know it.” James continued, more earnestly now. “Once you guys show up, they’ll be pressured into releasing me. I swear, it’ll work. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You’re damn right, you didn’t,” Barty snapped, his voice raw with untamed rage. “You shouldn’t be in there at all.”

Evan’s voice harshly contrasted Barty’s. “We’re not mad at you , baby,” he soothed gently, “Rather the corrupt justice system that keeps failing you.”

“’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

Then Regulus spoke, his tone light and casual—at odds with the weight of his words. “Oh, but make no mistake,” he added smoothly, “we are furious that you lied. To us and to our drivers.”

Barty let out a dark laugh. “You’re in for it, James.”

There was a pause, followed by James’ quiet sigh from the other end. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I figured.”

Then, the call was cut off. James’ time was up. 

Regulus, Evan, and Barty sprinted through The Rosier Manor. The three of them didn’t bother to knock. They burst into Axel and Adele Rosier’s bedroom with unreasonable force. The double doors slammed into the walls with a loud crack, jolting both parents awake in an instant.

Adele sat up first, blinking through her sleep, while Axel was already halfway out of bed, heart pounding from the intrusion.

“What happened?” Adele demanded, her voice still laced with sleep but rising quickly with dread. “What’s wrong?”

The boys answered in a rapid, overlapping rush. Regulus explained the fake text James showed their drivers. Barty told them James was arrested at Montrose Police Station. Evan added that James was completely innocent. Each word seemed to pile on more weight, more fury.

Axel and Adele were now wide awake, taking in the information. Axel’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he clutched the edge of the blanket. Adele sat frozen, her hand still covering her mouth. They exchanged a glance—wide-eyed and disbelieving—as the weight of the moment pressed down on them.

“We’re going to get him.” Evan told his parents with determination.

“No,” Axel said immediately, his voice stern and commanding. “You’ll stay here. We’ll go. That’s final.”

“No, that’s bullshit,” Barty snapped before he could stop himself. “James called us. So we’re going.”

Adele sent Barty that look. Eyes wide with shock, and eyebrows raised in warning. Instantly, Barty hung his head and apologized  for cursing. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Smiling gently at Barty, Adele nodded in approval. Then, she opened her mouth to respond, but Regulus stepped in before either parent could reclaim the authority.

“He called for us because he knew you’d be logical, and we’d be fast,” Regulus said plainly. “We’re not leaving him alone a second longer than necessary.”

A pause filled the room as Axel and Adele considered Regulus’ words. Then, Axel exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But you’ll do exactly as I say.”

The trio nodded, straightening their posture like soldiers at attention.

Axel strode over to his desk and grabbed an empty folder. “You’re going to take pictures,” he instructed firmly. “Of the police officers, station, official documentation, and James if he's harmed. Get everything.”

“Can we do that?” Barty asked, already anticipating the argument with the police officers.

“The police officers lie,” Axel informed. “But you have a legal right. You don’t need their permission to document the event. You’re not just going to get James—you’re going to build a case.”

Adele stepped in, placing a hand on Regulus’ shoulder. “Bring him back here, darling. Straight home. He needs safety.”

“Understood.”

“And Evan,” Adele added, placing a hand on his arm, her expression softening, “I want James to know three things. He’s not a burden. He’s safe now. And this will never happen again.”

“He will.” Evan promised.

They didn’t waste another second. With the instructions memorized, phones in hand, and adrenaline carrying them forward, the boys left The Rosier Mansion. 

James was depending on them. They had every intention of bringing him home.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWELVE

The moment Regulus, Evan, and Barty pushed through the double doors of the Montrose Police Station, the mood in the room shifted. The energy they carried with them was sharp and commanding. Their eyes burned with intent. It wasn’t just rage—they carried purpose.  

They didn't stop at the front desk. Regulus locked eyes with the nearest police officer and didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“Bring us James Potter,” he said, tone ice-cold. “Now.”

Mr. Clark, a man with a permanent smirk and beer gut, barked out a laugh. He leaned back in his chair as if amused by children playing adults. “You mean pretty boy?” he asked, chuckling under his breath. “Yeah, he’s back there. Getting off easy, if you ask me.”

The nickname sat wrong with all of them. Barty, who had been vibrating with quiet fury since they parked, snapped.

“Don’t call him that,” Barty hissed, stepping forward. “He’s being let off with a warning because you have no justification. Just your fragile ego and a badge.”

Mr. Johnson, another useless and wasteful soul, raised a brow, completely unfazed. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

Regulus stepped forward, his voice calm but as sharp as a knife. “We’re going to collect every document related to James’ arrest—something you are legally required to provide—and we’re going to sue.”

Mr. Clark rolled his eyes, opened a drawer lazily, and pulled out a stack of papers. With theatric disinterest, he tossed them toward Regulus. The pages hit the floor instead of his hands. “Knock yourself out.”

Evan bent down silently, gathering the papers with deliberate care. His calm was more dangerous than shouting. Every movement was restrained—but his jaw was locked.

He was done playing nice.

“We’re not leaving without him,” Evan said, his voice flat. “Bring him out. Now.”

Mr. Johnson scoffed again and stood, stretching as if this whole thing was a mild inconvenience. “Alright,” he muttered, “I’ll get your bitch.”

Oh, did they want to retaliate. That man’s tongue should be severed for addressing James in such a foul way. Though retaliation sounds satisfying, it’s unproductive. Stalling Mr. Clark isn’t one of their interests. Instead, they watch the man leave with boiling hatred. 

The station had gone still, save for the ticking of a wall clock and the occasional tapping of keys from the receptionist. No one looked them in the eye. 

Then came a sound that shattered the stillness. A door slammed open in the far hallway. All three boys turned toward the noise.

Finally, they saw James—soaked, dirty, and bruised. They expected to feel relieved, but that was not the case. Evan’s hoodie and sweatpants were soaked with rainwater and stained with mud. James’ hair matched, thick with grime and dirt. Worst of all, James was visibly hurt. His left cheekbone was bruised, and his temple was cut, dried blood falling from it.

Regulus, Evan, and Barty were horrified.

Mr. Johnson moved James into the room with more force than necessary. One hand gripped the back of James’ neck, and the other held his cuffed wrists. Then, the police officer shoved James into the wall to remove his handcuffs.

James winced audibly when the handcuffs came off. He twisted in the guard’s grip, trying to escape the uncomfortable pressure. “Stop moving,” the police officer barked.

When James didn’t, Mr. Clark lost what little patience he had and shoved James to the ground. Thankfully, James caught himself with his hands and knees. 

“Play nice.” Mr. Clark taunted. Instantly, James nodded. He was obedient, not from fear—James had trained himself out of that—but from shame.

However, Barty had never trained himself out of anything. Not his temper, not his mouth, and certainly not his protective instinct.

“You motherfucker!” Barty snarled, breaking from Regulus and Evan. He stormed forward, eyes wild, fists clenched. “Get your hands off him!”

The sound of his boots on the tile echoed like thunder. Barty would've made it to the police officer if Evan hadn't intercepted him. With one fluid motion, Evan grabbed him by the waist, and shoved Barty behind him.

“Stop.” Regulus hissed under his breath, scolding Barty as if he was an impulsive child. In some ways, he was

Then Evan turned his attention to Mr. Clark. His tone dropped to something controlled and lethal. A threat that dressed itself as formality.

“Do you know who I am?” Evan asked.

The police officer looked at him like he couldn’t care less. He gave a half-shrug and shook his head.

Evan didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. He just smiled, barely. “I’m the son of Axel Rosier.”

Mr. Clark’s face paled the instant Evan said his father’s name. The blood drained from his cheeks so quickly it looked like he’d seen a ghost. But it wasn’t death staring him in the face—it was power. Pure, irrefutable, generational power.

Everyone knew who Axel Rosier was. One of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the country. A man whose words were so important they were insured. A man who possessed stronger resources than the government. A man who punished and rewarded anyone he saw fit. 

Axel Rosier had the world at his feet and God on a leash.

Mr. Clark had just manhandled someone under Axel Rosier’s protection.

Regulus, Evan, and Barty had the privilege and pleasure of witnessing Mr. Clark realize his mistake. The fear overtook him so violently it practically made the room colder. Mr. Clark’s mouth opened as if to speak, but not a single word came out. He didn’t even seem to breathe.

Calm and collected, Regulus pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. He stepped forward with the deliberate pace of a man giving a verdict. When he was close enough, he raised his phone and snapped a photo of Mr. Clark’s face.

The flash made the officer flinch like a slap.

“Get out,” Regulus ordered, voice like iron. “You’re of no use to us now.”

There was no yelling. No dramatics. Just a simple command—one that couldn’t be argued with. And Mr. Clark knew it. He scrambled out of the room without a word. It would’ve been pathetic if it weren’t so satisfying.

The moment the door shut behind him, Regulus turned smoothly on his heel to face Mr. Johnson. The sound of his phone clicking echoed like a gunshot.

Mr. Johnson flinched, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know whether to fight or fold. Regulus didn’t wait for him to figure it out.

“You too.”

That was all it took.

Mr. Johnson backed out of the room immediately. The door hadn’t even closed behind him before Barty muttered, “Cowards.”

The moment the door shut behind Mr. Johnson, the tension in the room shifted. Evan’s expression, which had been carved from stone a moment ago, softened into something entirely different. The wrath that had burned in his eyes was replaced with unwavering devotion. Fierceness dissolved into fidelity.

Without saying a word, Evan knelt beside James, who was still seated on the floor, shivering slightly. Evan hooked his hands carefully under James’ arms, gently lifting him from the ground. The effort was tender, every movement calculated for comfort.

James tried to stand on his own and failed. Somehow, his legs were trembling and limp at the same time. Either way, they weren’t strong enough to bear his weight. Evan didn’t let him fall.

Instead, Evan pulled James into his chest, wrapping strong arms around his back and locking them there. He held James like he was afraid he’d disappear—like anchoring him to this moment would keep the worst from happening again.

James melted into the embrace. He buried his face into Evan’s neck, letting the warmth seep into his bruised skin. His arms looped weakly around Evan’s shoulders. A small, involuntary whimper left his throat—more vulnerable than he wanted, but too tired to suppress it.

Evan hushed him softly, his voice low and soothing. “Shh. It’s alright.”

“’m okay,” James murmured. The words were muffled by Evan’s shirt, shaky and thin.

“I believe you,” Evan whispered back. And he did. There was no doubt in his tone, no patronizing lilt—just full belief.

The hug broke slowly, like the drawing of a curtain after a long, painful act. Evan kept one hand on James’ back for support as he leaned forward to kiss his forehead—firm and deliberate. James let his eyes fall shut at the contact, breathing out a soft sigh he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Only then did he look past Evan and meet the eyes of Regulus and Barty.

They hadn’t moved much. Regulus stood tall with his hands tucked tightly into the pockets of his coat, watching James with eyes that flickered with rage and relief. Barty’s arms were still crossed over his chest, his mouth tight, and though there was concern etched deep in his features, his smile was a sad one.

James hated that look—the pity.

Even when it was well-intentioned, even when it was earned—it stung. He didn’t want to be someone who had to be pitied. He didn’t want to be the broken boy they had to piece back together.

He turned his head away briefly, looking toward the floor as he blinked hard.

“Let’s get out of here,” Barty said, voice low and worn. His usual sharp edge was dulled, sanded down by the sight of James like this. He stepped closer, holding the door open.

Evan adjusted his grip, one arm around James’ waist now to help him walk.

At first, the car ride was silent.

The hum of the engine filled the space between them, steady but cold. James sat slouched between Evan and Barty, his body tense despite their proximity. He shifted and fidgeted restlessly. His fingers twitched in his lap. His leg bounced nervously. It was painfully obvious that he was unraveling.

Evan reached out first, wrapping a steadying arm over James’ shoulders and pulling him closer. Then, in that soothing way of his, Evan began to hum. Low and deep, like a lullaby meant to be felt more than heard.

Beside him, Barty rested a gentle hand on James’ leg, rubbing a slow path up and down. The motion was repetitive, unchanging. He knew James didn’t need more chaos right now—just something predictable

Sat across from the three was Regulus. He was watching James—not in judgment, but in contemplation. Several emotions were surging through him, demanding attention. James was simply too exhausted to process any of them. 

That worried Regulus. 

James will have to process these emotions eventually. It's only healthy. The longer he suppresses them, the more violent they'll be when they surface. 

Barty interrupted Regulus’ thoughts.

“You’re coming back to the Rosier mansion,” he said simply, not even phrasing it as a question.

James blinked slowly, but didn’t argue. Maybe he didn’t have the energy, or maybe he just knew better.

“Knowing Axel and Adele,” Barty continued, glancing at Regulus, “there’s already a doctor at the house waiting for you.”

Evan nodded, resting his chin lightly against the top of James’ head. “You’ll get fixed, fed, bathed, and put to bed. Sounds nice, huh?”

James hummed weakly. Though he wasn’t very engaged, it was clear that his mind was active. He almost seemed to be contemplating something. The others couldn’t fathom what it was, but they soon got their answer.

“I’m sorry for lying to you,” James whispered suddenly, the words barely loud enough to carry over the quiet hum of the car.

“Darling,” Evan murmured, fingers squeezing James’ shoulder, “that should be the last thing on your mind.”

“You’ll get your scolding later,” Barty added dryly. “We have bigger problems right now.”

James finally looked up, hesitantly turning towards Regulus. His eyes were tired, pleading. Not for forgiveness, but for reassurance. No words were said, but Regulus could read him perfectly.

'Poor baby,' Regulus thought. 'Thinks I'm upset with him.'

He met James’ gaze without blinking, holding it firmly. Then, at last, Regulus spoke.

“For example: Are you hurt?” he asked, providing James clarity.

James saw no use lying to Regulus. That man was observant, and could read him like an open book. So James didn't even try to sugarcoat his answer. 

“All over.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

(NOTE: Perfect until line break.)

Axel and Adele meant business. (SPELLING: business?)

The moment James stepped foot into Rosier Manor, he was swept away. Instantly, Adele had her hands on his shoulders, steering him down the long marble hallway. Axel trailed close behind, firmly speaking to someone on the phone—probably giving orders. Everyone seemed to know exactly what to do, except for James.

They ushered him through tall mahogany doors into a room that didn’t match the manor’s old-fashion grandeur. The medical annex was sleek—stainless steel, white walls, sterile smell, advanced atmosphere. James blinked in confusion. There was a hospital inside the house. Of course there was.

A woman stood waiting inside, her calm expression betraying years of experience. “Dr. Pomfrey,” Adele greeted, her tone clipped with urgency. “He’s the boy we called about.”

Dr. Pomfrey motioned for James to sit on the padded table in the center of the room. But James just stood there, too startled to move. His eyes darted around the room. 

He’d known the Rosiers were rich. Everyone did. But this? This was something else entirely.

Axel was speaking rapidly to Dr. Pomfrey now. “There’s been an altercation with the police,” he said. “I want a full exam.”

“Of course, Mr. Rosier,” the doctor replied smoothly.

James blinked again, dumbfounded. His entire body stung and ached, but none of it compared to the sheer strangeness of the situation. He gawped at Evan, Regulus, and Barty, who’d entered quietly. They stood in the doorway, watching the scene with faux composure. 

“What family,” James whispered, “has their own personal doctor?”

Evan smirked, stepping torward the examination table. “My parents are overprotective,” he whispered back. “Hence, Dr. Pomfrey—the family doctor.”

James was caught somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion. “Just how much money are you wasting on me?”

The question—meant to be sarcastic—came out as a whisper edged with guilt.

Instantly, the response came. Three overlapping voices, firm and unwavering.

“We’re not wasting it.”

Regulus, Evan, and Barty said it together, the harmony of their conviction silencing James.

Dr. Pomfrey didn’t look up, but James could see the faintest smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Even she seemed used to their antics.

“How dare you suggest that?” Barty questioned rhetorically. Regulus followed in suit, “Your health isn’t priceable, James Potter.”

Evan’s voice from mere moments ago echoed in James’s memory: ‘My parents are overprotective.’ 

Oh, the irony.

The parents were vigilant. It’s the trio who’s overprotective. Their faces were only softened by affection, and their voices were sharp in their inflection. Deciding to taunt, James asked, “You said your parents were overprotective?” (Change first part to match second part. Keep rhyme?)

“Oi!” Evan immediately shot back, bristling. “We’ve got every right to be ‘overprotective.’” 

Barty continued, his voice edged with amusement and warning, “Count your blessings, Potter. If Regulus had his way, you’d be on a leash. And he’d take his sweet time parading you around.” 

“That’s correct.” Regulus confirmed. 

James rolled his eyes, “Yeah, whatever…” 

“Nonetheless,” Adele cut in, diffusing the room’s tension. “You’re part of this family now. That makes you worth every penny.”

Her words landed heavier than James expected. They embedded in his beliefs without permission.

____ 

(NOTE: Possibly edit. Longer paragraphs?)

Gradually, Dr. Pomfrey approached James, as if he was a wounded animal. Technically, he was. 

“Hello, James,” she said gently, “I’m Dr. Pomfrey. Your friends’ parents called ahead to explain what happened. I’ll be conducting an External Body Exam—nothing invasive, I promise.”

Hesitantly, James nodded. “An exam,” he repeated compliantly.

“That’s right,” she confirmed. “I simply need to see what injuries we’re dealing with so I can treat them properly. You’ve been through a lot tonight, haven’t you?”

“That’s one way to put it.” 

Dr. Pomfrey gestured toward a side table. “You’ll need to change into those,” she said, picking up a neatly folded pair of soft cotton shorts. “Minimal clothing for the exam, I’m afraid. I’ll give you your privacy.”

Before he could respond, three voices surrounded him—warm, familiar, grounding.

Evan spoke directly into James’ ear, his scent of pine enveloping him. “We’ll be right outside, hmm?” he reassured.

Regulus reached out to take James’s hand. The touch was firm, his thumb brushing over James’s knuckles. “You’re in good hands,” he said, tone absolute.

Finally, Barty clapped a hand to James’s shoulder, “Once this is finished, we’ll have everything prepared for you. Yeah?”

James faked a smile. However, since James normally smiles so authentically, the fake was undeniable. Regulus, Evan, and Barty definitely noticed, and chose not to comment.

One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Then, only Dr. Pomfrey and James remained.

Dr. Pomfrey turned her back out of respect, busying herself with arranging medical supplies. “Take your time,” she said softly. “There’s no rush.”

When James peeled off the hoodie, the shirt came off with it, fabrics crusted together with rain and mud. Finally, James removed the sweatpants, and quickly replaced them with the medical shorts. Each discarded piece of clothing landed on the polished tile with a distasteful thud.

The cotton was soft, almost weightless against his skin—a quiet mercy.

“I’m ready.” James attempted to declare. However, the meekness in his voice revealed his anxiety. James gnawed at his lip, peeling off layers of chapped skin. Ultimately, he overindulged in the coping mechanism, adding ‘bloodied lip’ to his litany of injuries. 

Finally, she turned around.

Dr. Pomfrey’s eyes swept over James clinically. Not once did her expression falter. It remained soothing, observing him with reassurance rather than scrutiny. Still, clad in only the soft shorts she had provided, James felt exposed.

“Let’s begin with identification marks.” Dr. Pomfrey stated, “Are there any previously-possessed scars, tattoos, birthmarks, or dimples? Anything that did not occur within the last twenty-four hours.”

Dr. Pomfrey continued to confuse James. Strangers, especially adults, didn’t speak to him with humanity. It was something about his appearance—filthy, pathetic, scrappy. (Young, scrappy, and hungry? Hamilton Reference?) Yet, Dr. Pomfrey was consistently pleasant and respectful. 

James forgot how this treatment felt.

James forgot that he deserved this treatment.

“Um…” he stalled, looking up the way humans do when searching their memory. “No scars. No tattoos. Mi Mamá would kill me.” (Keep Spanish? Check accuracy.)

James tried—and failed—to laugh. Thankfully, Dr. Pomfrey indulged him, “Your mother is a sensible woman. Did you know Barty has tattoos?” 

“Barty has tattoos!?”

“Yes,” Dr. Pomfrey said, “When he turned fourteen, he got four tattoos. Illegally.” she stated nostalgically. “Barty managed to conceal them for an entire year!”

“How’d Axel and Adele discover them?” James questioned. 

“They didn’t.” she emphasized, “I did. It was Barty’s fifteenth birthday check-up. I examined his spine for scoliosis, and discovered the tattoo on his lower back. Adele and Axel were not pleased, but the damage was done.” 

Honestly, James wasn’t even remotely surprised. This was extremely on-brand for Barty. “Lower back?” he repeated, “So Barty has a tramp stamp.” 

Dr. Pomfrey howled with laughter. “Yes, he does. Among others.” 

After that, the conversation naturally ceased. Unfortunately, its ease did not linger, and anxiety returned to the medical annex. Dr. Pomfrey cleared her throat, “So, birthmarks and dimples?” 

James did have a birthmark, one detail he often forgot about himself. Located on his inner thigh, the birthmark was darker than the surrounding skin. It was heart-shaped—something James had always been embarrassed about. Many perceived it as childish. 

Dr. Pomfrey noted it in his file, and moved on. “Any face or back dimples? They’re astonishingly important for identification records.” (Back dimples - Dimples of Venus?)

“Both,” James admitted, “Face and, um… back dimples.” 

Dr. Pomfrey’s eyes crinkled fondly at his shyness. “At least it’s not a tramp stamp.”

(Line break here?)

Finally, Dr. Pomfrey had documented James’ identification marks. “Thank you. This helps me differentiate between previous markings and current injuries.”

Current injuries.

Dr. Pomfrey’s laptop closed with a sharp click. “We’ll go slowly,” she reassured him. “You’re in control of this. If you need a break at any point, you tell me. Understood?”

James nodded, throat tight. “Understood.” 

(NEXT PART: Continues with prompts in notes app on iPhone XR.)