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Chapter Text

James had seen Regulus Black's movies and always thought he was talented. But he’d always seemed so far from James’ ordinary life tucked away in Notting Hill, London, with its bustling markets and little stores and quiet gardens. However, Notting Hill had never failed to attract interesting people, from James’ neighbor that always seemed to walk his very loud black dog at exactly the wrong time (which was whenever he was trying to focus) to the woman at the grocery store who doled out wisdom from tea dregs, so maybe he should have expected Regulus to waltz into his life. 

He’d been living in a house at the edge of one of Notting Hill's biggest markets with his girlfriend, Lily, before she left him for her favorite author. It was awfully romantic, meeting someone who you valued and respected at a book signing and her writing her number with a message to call on the inner cover. That didn’t mean it didn’t leave him feeling horribly lonely though, and sometimes he couldn't help but look at her and resent her. Here he was, thoughts about his unavoidable future alone opening a pit in his stomach, while she had moved on and seemed incredibly happy with Mary. He'd been rooming with his friend Peter since the break up, but his busy corporate job where he did who-knows-what caused him to be chronically absent. It was safe to say James had been having a rotten couple of months.

On his way to work alone he’d already kicked about 7 pebbles into his beloved, though admittedly ancient, red converse through a large hole on the side. His shoelaces had come undone a while ago, making a clicking sound as they hit the ground again and again. He didn’t tie them, instead continuing to walk. They continued click-click-clicking each time he stepped, and when he finally tumbled through the small wooden doorway of The Travel Book Co he ended up being twenty minutes late. 

“James!” His coworker, Marlene, called out to him, “Finally showed up, I thought you were ditching me. Well, watch the register while I go get coffee, will you?”

“My shift just started,” he whined, because it was far too early to be running the store alone and Marlene was notorious for disappearing for over an hour while on her ‘quick’ coffee runs.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic James,” she scolded him, the mock serious expression looking out of place on her impish face. “The shop is quiet right now anyways, you’ll be fine. Want me to grab you a drink too?”

James sighed, resigned to his fate. “Fine,” he told her, dragging out the word, “Grab me today's concoction.”

As she stomped out of the store her comically large combat boots seemed to shake the ground. James watched her disappear, the door swinging shut with a thud. Knowing her she was going to order the most disgustingly sweet drink on the menu, one that would probably send any normal person into a sugar-induced coma. James actually adored her drinks, trying her extremely sweet or bizarre drinks each day made for an interesting game of Russian Roulette. The blonde was eccentric; her intolerance for everything but the most strange of foods being one of her many quirks, but that was part of what James liked about her. She was interesting.

Settling into his routine he tossed his bag down near the register, listening as the pins clipped to the outside clattered. They were a patchwork of all the people and places he’d loved, collecting one whenever he visited somewhere new or found one that reminded him of someone. The other day he’d found one with a moon on it and sent a picture to his friend Remus, who’d scoffed and left him on read. This, however, didn’t stop James from securing it on the ever disappearing free space on the outside of his bag like a trophy.

In his boredom he stared at the stain on the wall opposite him, trying to guess what had made it. His fingers tapped repeatedly against his leg, drumming on his thigh. They pattered up and down, doing nothing to fill the quiet that had covered the shop like a woolen blanket. Finally, he heard the door bells jingling. “Marls! You were faster today.”

As almost no one ever entered the shop on slow Wednesdays, this assumption should have been correct. However, silence was all that answered him and looking over expectantly James saw a man who was decidedly not Marlene. He’d strode confidently over to one shelf, leafing through the worn books. He was devastatingly beautiful, with ebony curls cut around the nape of his neck falling slightly into his eyes as he gazed down at the shelf. He was scowling, and as curls brushed the top of the crease between his eyebrows James had the inexplicable urge to reach out and smooth it. James noticed as his slender fingers paged through a book on travel to Turkey, one full of pictures and not much else.

“Oh, don’t get that book,” James called over to the captivating man. “Honestly, I’m not even sure that the author knows where Turkey is. That’s what happens when you try to write a travel book without traveling, right?” He grinned at the man, his smile faltering slightly as the man leveled him an unimpressed gaze.

“The book’s really only good if you’re trying to fall asleep mid-flight, trust me. This one is much better—it even has a quite amusing story about some kebab.” James held up a heftier book, this one with much more text.

Looking over to the shelf next to him to grab another, he caught sight of a man stuffing a book into his pants on the cameras. Sighing, James moved to walk to the next room.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He wasn't sure why he was trying to keep up this one-sided conversation, but he felt like he at least had a sort of obligation to be polite.

Putting on his best customer service smile (which his friends told him was really more of a semi-cocky grin than anything else) he walked over to the man in the back, clearing his throat to get his attention.

“Mate, I saw you shove that book down your trousers. We have a camera in this bit of the shop, nice try though.” He gestured towards the man’s crotch, which now had a suspiciously sized bulge in the shape of a large rectangle.

“What book?” The man, very clearly guilty, said as he twisted his fingers together.

“The one you put in your trousers. Don’t make me call the police.”

Deciding to ignore him, the man continued to play dumb. Or maybe he was just dumb, James wasn’t sure. “There’s no book in my trousers.”

James smiled at him, trying to keep control of the situation. “If you don’t take that book out right now, then I’ll call the police and they can sort this out for us.”

The man hesitated, then replied, “Alright, if I hypothetically did have a book down my trousers, what would you want me to do about it?”

“Well, I suppose I’d want you to either wipe it and put it back or buy it. I’ll just…be in the other room.”

Sighing, James turned around. As he did, he could see the beautiful man looking over at them, the side of his mouth curled up into a sort of half-smile. Noticing James watching him, he quickly smoothed his expression out.

“Sorry about that, did you decide on a book?”

“I was planning to steal one, but now I’ve decided against it,” the man told him through a thick French accent. James blinked. Was that sarcasm?

Walking over to the register, the man set the first book in front of James. “You made an exhilarating argument for the kebabs, but I’ll get this one.”

“If you’re really sure! Are you planning on visiting Turkey?”

This attempt at small talk obviously failed when the man glanced up at the little clock in the corner of the store—it was broken, but James got the message. Hurry up.

“You know what, why don’t I just give you the other on the house. A free book to aid with your travels. I mean it, this one is quite a good read.”

“Alright,” the man sighed, “Just hurry up.”

As he swiped his card, James’ breath caught in his throat: he was even prettier up close than he had been from afar, but looking at him gave James a strong sense of deja vu. The man looked up, and James was faced head on with haunting gray eyes reminiscent of the calm before a storm, the type that sent sailors to their deaths at the bottom of the sea. But with this realization came another—the reason his face was so familiar was because that was most definitely Regulus Black. The famous actor. The gorgeous man that James had clearly just annoyed out of his mind. 

His fears were confirmed when the man from the other room, now holding the book he had previously shoved down his trousers, walked up to them.

“Er, can I have an autograph?”

Fishing a pen out of his pocket, Regulus expectantly waited for something to sign. Signing a napkin that the man had pulled out of his pocket, James watched mesmerized as the name Regulus Black was printed in small, neat letters. Then, Regulus grabbed his large paper bag, and stepped out back into the heat.

The door shut quietly behind him and James felt mocked by the bells that followed. They laughed at him, the tinkling sound traveling through the air like the church bells from down the street.

Solidifying the theory that the universe had it out for him, the door soon swung open again.

“Marls,” he called excitedly, “I don’t think you’ll believe who was in here.” At least one good thing could come out of this experience, and that was being able to brag he’d met Regulus Black.

“Who? Was it someone famous?”

“Yes! Regulus Black!”

“Yeah right.” Dropping the flimsy carrier that the cafe had given her into the trash, she passed him his drink. On a count of three they both raised the paper cups to their lips and drained them, James coughing slightly as the monstrosity of the day hit his taste buds.

“Seriously, Marls. He bought that horrible book about Turkey!” 

After staring at him with a look that suggested deep inner turmoil, Marlene groaned. “Of course Regulus Black comes into here when I’m on break.” 

“Well, maybe if you didn’t leave me alone in here for hours all the time then you wouldn’t miss anything.” Guffawing, James poked her arm. 

Rolling her eyes, she batted his hand away. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You going to take your break now?” 

Looking around at the now empty shop, he shrugged. It wasn't like there was anyone in there for Marlene to antagonize any more than he had, and despite now feeling slightly more awake, he was going to combust if he stayed inside any longer. “Sure, there’s no one here right now for you to bother anyway.”

“Not sure you can talk about being a nuisance, but whatever. Get me an orange juice.”

A last ditch attempt to annoy her, he ruffled her hair then ducked away from her responding slap as he ran towards the door and flashed her a dramatic thumbs up. As he walked outside, he could hear her rough laugh behind him. 

...

After successfully getting both some outside air and Marlene’s orange juice, James rushed back to the store. Marlene was downright horrible with customers; whether it was telling people piss off when they annoyed her or mocking their book choices, so leaving her alone for long periods of time with potential customers was a recipe for disaster. Balancing the juice in one hand and fixing his glasses with the other, he wasn’t looking ahead as he ran through the familiar path and collided head on with someone else, his drink spilling all over both of their shirts.

“Shit, I am so sorry,” James yelped as he reached out to try to dry the other man off. Smiling apologetically at him, he tried to wipe the shirt.

The man flinched away from James, sending him an icy glare.

“Don’t touch me,” the man—Regulus, James realized with horror—snapped at him. He was clearly furious at the state of his most likely expensive white shirt.

“I’m so, so sorry. God, I can’t believe I did that. I live really close, you can come with me and wash your shirt if you want? I’m not a serial killer, I swear.”

Spitting out the words like they pained him, Regulus answered slowly. “Well, fine. How close are you talking? Give it to me exactly." 

“Do you see the house with the red door? That’s me.” Starting towards the house, he dragged Regulus behind him.

“The bathroom is just right up the stairs and to the left,” he told Regulus as he ushered him inside. 

Hesitantly Regulus climbed up the stairs, surveying the house as he did. James suddenly felt very inadequate, noticing all the dirty plates left on the counters and clutter left on the floor. Grabbing what he could, he hurried to tidy up while Regulus was still changing. It didn’t help; the small house still looked like it had been a nest for a group of very enthusiastic pigeons.

When Regulus came back down the stairs, James was enthralled. It made incredible sense why he was splayed on the cover of every popular movie, because Regulus seemed to shine brighter than his namesake. He was inevitable, and James felt like he was being pulled to crash into his fiery depths. 

"I'm James, by the way." 

"Regulus." 

Stalling to try to keep him around a little longer, James rifled through his fridge. “Do you want water?”

“No.”

“Coffee?”

“No.”

“Orange juice—well, probably not that one. Something to eat?”

“No thanks.”

“Do you always say no to everything?”

“No. Well, I’d probably be going. Thanks for your…help.”

Laughing, James stilled as he gazed into Regulus’ stormy eyes. “Of course. Also, you're beautiful. After you read that horrible book you’ll probably never come back to the shop, so I’ll take my chance to say it now.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, and James had the sudden feeling that Regulus saw him like a puzzle to solve. His cheeks also looked slightly rosy, but it was probably just the lighting. Or the heat. 

“It was nice to meet you," James told him, "surreal, but nice.”

For a split second, Regulus seemed less intense, his gaze lingering on James. Their eyes met, Regulus gazing into his amber ones as if they held the answer to whatever was between them. But the moment passed too soon and he slipped through the door, disappearing as if ducking under an invisible cloak.

James sighed, rubbing his eyes with his hand. God, normally he was better at talking to beautiful people than this. Stepping away, he tried to convince himself to go back to work. But as he did, he heard the front bell ring. Excitedly swinging it open, he saw Regulus standing on his front steps. 

“I forgot my bag,” Regulus told him, gesturing towards the brown paper bag sitting in the corner.

He walked into the house and picked up the brown bag, but hesitated before leaving again. Turning towards James, Regulus reached up and leaned in, his hands cupping James’ jaw. He stared for a second, as if searching for the answer to his unspoken question in James' eyes, and then he kissed him.

He tasted like mint and Earl Grey, kissed James firm and steady and grounding. A low noise burst from the back of his throat, and then all of a sudden James' arms gripped Regulus' waist desperately and the world around them momentarily seemed irrelevant. Regulus kissed like a man with everything to lose, an all consuming fit of ill advised passion. 

When they broke apart he looked startled, like he hadn't planned for it go that far. “I'm sorry," he blurted out. 

James stared at his flushed cheeks, treasured the way he sounded slightly out of breath, drank in the way he quickly composed himself. "No, no, don't be."

Scratching his nape, James blinked. “I’m sorry about my surreal but nice comment,” he told Regulus breathily.

The sides of Regulus’ lips quirked up, a smile ghosting his face. “It's alright, I thought it was endearing, in a pathetic way.”

Looking down at his watch, Regulus swore under his breath. “Don’t tell anyone about this."

James grinned at him. “I won’t tell a soul but myself, and even then I won’t believe it.”

“Very charming,” Regulus deadpanned. “Well, goodbye.”

The man swept away, leaving just the memory of wise eyes and dark curls and a velvety accent that washed over James in waves behind, and all James could do was stand still in shock. 

Chapter Text

When the sky had long since been stained with spilled ink, Peter finally crept through the doorway and collapsed onto the couch. There, he found James laying with his eyes staring ahead in rapt attention to a movie. It was one of Regulus’, his voice filling the air around them as it blared through the old television in front of them. 

“He’s incredible,” James whispered. 

That night, staring at his ceiling with its cracking paint, James thought of Regulus. He thought of his stolen smiles, like he wasn’t really sure how to smile and really mean it. He thought of his perpetual scowl, and how it just made James want to get to know him more. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of swimming in a dull sea, reaching through the water swirling around him for a shadowy figure. But his arm always brushed open air, the figure was always just out of reach. The only thing he could see was fierce grey eyes flashing at him, the same color as the sea he was swimming in. 

That weekend, Peter and James sat together on the flat roof of their little house baking under the sun. Peter’s shabby clothes splayed around him like a halo, and he laid on his back pointing out interesting out looking clouds. 

“Look at that one,” Peter snickered, pointing to a large blob in their peripheral vision. 

James scrunched his face up. “What’s that one supposed to be? Even I can't tell.” 

“A rat, see his tail?”

James grinned at him. “Oh, you’re right, look at his wormtail!”

Peter tried to smother his laugh, but failed as it bubbled up around him. His laugh was loud and unique, little hiccups reminding James of the choppy melody of a song still being written. The beat was irregular, not something that would appear in one of the popular pop songs that always played on the radio, but it was endearing. Peter’s laugh was addicting, and once you made him laugh you just knew you wanted to make him laugh again. Peter was the type of person that after telling you the sky was pink you felt inclined to agree with him based sorely on the fact that you didn't want to disappoint him (Peter would say that was ridiculous).

Grinning even wider, James started poking his side. “Wormtail,” he sang. “Which makes you wormtail boy.” 

Peter rolled away from him. “I still haven’t recovered from the last one. Not another nickname.”

“Sorry, Wormy, it’s been given. Can’t take it back now!” 

As Peter looked back over at him, James was struck by where he would be if they’d never accidentally tripped each other in year four. Certainly he’d be much more lonely, to say the least, and he wouldn’t notice half the things he does today. Peter was excellent at the ordinary; his ability to be exactly like what everyone expected and yet not at all gave him the uncanny talent to notice things no one else would, be it obscure details or something fascinating that no one else would have thought twice about. He’d taught James to enjoy little things, to notice small things, and without him James wasn’t sure who he’d have turned out to be. With his strangely fitting clothes he refused to replace and ability to see the incredible in ordinary things, it was hard not to be charmed by him at least a little bit. 

Still laughing, James pointed at another cloud. “That one’s definitely Dolly Parton.” The reminder of Dolly Parton reminded him of another celebrity—one infinitely more interesting in his mind. 

“Did I miss any messages while you were here?” On Saturdays Peter didn’t have work, but James always went into the store. He felt he owed it to the place that had given him a safe space and community for so many years, so doing small work like tidying up and helping to keep the shop afloat was a small price to pay on some weekends. Besides, he opened the store for his favorite regulars over this time, one of which being his friend Remus. The man was always seemingly heading somewhere, so James would take any time he could get with him. If the price for his time was bribing the taller man’s book fixations, then so be it. While he was there, Peter took his calls or messages and wrote them down for him. 

“Your mom called, she wants to see you soon.”  

James pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, adjusting the copper frames. As irrational as it was, he’d been hoping Regulus would call him. “Anyone else?” 

“Maybe,” Peter told him, pausing and looking to the clouds as if they would procure an answer for him. “There might’ve been a man named Regulus, I think? Odd name. Said you should call him at the Ritz, then said to ask for some completely other person. Strange phone call, I didn’t think to write it down now that I remember.” 

Quickly jumping up and sliding inside, James urgently reached for the phone.

“What was the name? This is life or death, Petey,” he proclaimed. 

Dramatically tapping his foot up and down, he gestured for Peter to hurry as a deep voice echoing cannily through the speaker answered the phone. 

“Maybe it was Leo? Try Leo.” 

James talked to the receptionist for a second then paused. “Uhm, yes, I’m asking for a Leo?” A click echoed through James’ ear, and then he heard Regulus. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, it’s James Potter,” he said breathily.  

“You played it cool there, waiting 3 days to call.” 

“Oh, no, I’ve never played anything cool in my entire life. My flatmate didn’t tell me you called.”

James could picture Regulus rolling his eyes. "Of course you haven't."

He felt a nervous smile stretching across his face, and before he could regret it blurted out, “I’d love to see you soon.” 

After a brief pause, Regulus responded. "I'll be free at 4 if you're really dying to see me." 

The line clicked, indicating he’d hung up, and James whooped. “We bloody did it, Wormy. You beautiful, strange man.” Pulling Peter in, he wrapped him in one of his signature bone crushing hugs. “Oh, I have to go get ready—and get flowers, what type of flowers do you think he’d like?”

Peter, clearly overwhelmed, stared at him blankly. “No idea. Actually, I have absolutely no idea what just happened, but it seemed like something exciting. Congrats, mate.”

...

At exactly 3:50, James walked into the Ritz. Dressed in his best suit (which was 5 years old and just slightly too small) and carrying the nicest bouquet of flowers he’d ever bought, he walked to the elevator tapping his foot anxiously. Exiting at the top floor, he entered the large suite and was greeted by dozens of people sitting on couches as they waited for their time to see the actor. 

As he was looking around confusedly, a blonde woman with a clipboard swept towards him. ”What did you think of the film?” 

The man next to James chimed in, telling her, “It was incredible, very The Master meets Run Lola Run .”  

Nodding, the woman turned to James expectantly. Having never actually seen the movie, he just smiled politely. “I agree. I’m James, it’s nice to meet you…” 

“Call me Pandora.” Her voice lilted with a musical quality as she spoke, the words almost floating off her tongue. 

“Well then, it’s nice to meet you Pandora!” 

She smiled at James then, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening, and the room seemed to soften around her. Between the wildflowers braided in her golden hair, her long colorful skirt brushing against the floor, and the million colorful bracelets resting on her wrist, James wondered how someone as ethereal as her could ever be an assistant. He also wondered if there was a dress code for being an assistant as if so this couldn’t possibly fit into it, but he couldn't imagine this person in business attire. When he told her as such, she laughed, the airy sound filling the room around them. 

“I want to be a model,” she said wistfully, her voice taking on a dreamy quality. “I’m really only working here right now because of Reggie. He hates almost everyone, so if I work here he gets someone he can tolerate and I get more connections in the industry. Reg is awfully connected for someone whose New Year’s resolution was to ‘avoid as many people as possible.’”

Pandora leaned in then, her emerald eyes glinting mischievously. She smiled conspiratorially as she lowered her voice. “Are you Reg’s James?” 

James preened hearing that—he could get used to being Reg’s James. “I hope to be,” he told her, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Well then, come along. What magazine shall I put you in with? I can get you 5 minutes with him.” 

Frantically glancing around the room, he caught sight of a car magazine laying haphazardly on the edge of a side table. “Uh, say I’m with Autocar.”

Pandora clapped, her colorful array of painted nails glittering under the harsh light. She led him away from the others, and upon entering a new room James saw Regulus standing near the wall. Everything in the room was crowned in gold, the imposing large windows in the back thrown open, lavish vases of flowers adorning every flat surface. It looked like the set of a throne room, minus the throne. Standing there James couldn’t have felt more out of place, but Regulus,  with his head held high and his posture perfect, looked like a king. 

James smiled sheepishly as he held out the flowers, which seemed very inadequate now that he was holding them out to Regulus. “I brought these, but obviously they’re not needed.” 

“No, they’re beautiful.” Regulus set them carefully on the table, and the way he gazed at them, like they were something wondrous and impossible, made James believe they weren’t so pathetic. 

Silence filled the room as they both waited for the other to speak. In the stillness James found himself studying Regulus, from the way he held himself to the way he spoke. “So, why Leo?”

Regulus looked a bit startled—though he tried to hide it under his cold expression, James was pretty sure he was starting to understand how to read him. “It’s from my name. Leo is the constellation that Regulus—the star—is in. I always use constellations as names for visitors.”

“Yeah? Why constellations?” 

Regulus quickly changed the subject, refusing to look him in the eyes as if it would reveal his obvious deflection. 

“I actually wanted to apologize for kissing you,” Regulus told him stiffly. “It wasn’t fair to you.” 

James felt his face fall. “Don’t apologize to me—kissing you is the kind of thing that happens in dreams, and so is seeing you again.” 

Gazing pleadingly at him, James willed him to understand what it had meant to him. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but eventually Regulus asked James, “What happens next in the dream?” 

James grinned at him, not letting Regulus’ gaze stray from his face. “Well, I guess I ask you to kiss me again.” 

“I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m busy tonight too, but—”

Regulus began to respond, but as he did a man waltzed into the room. “The next person is ready, Mr. Black.”

James was quickly led out of the room, his last glimpse of Regulus fleeting as he was carted to the next rooms. In these interviews, he learned that picking a racing magazine to report on these actors was perhaps not the best choice. After asking one co-star if they would have liked more race cars in the movie, he was awkwardly told that the movie was about escaping a cult. This left him asking questions such as, “Would you consider doing a movie in the future about racing?” and “Have you ever raced?” until he stumbled back out into the main hallway.  

After briefly considering trying to find Regulus again, he started looking around for the exit. He started to walk towards one when he noticed Pandora gliding towards him. “James,” She called to him, her voice lilting like the soft chimes of the church bells near the store. 

She giggled, looking between them as if they shared some grand secret. “Reg will see you again, come on.” 

Excitedly, James hurried behind Pandora as they walked to Reg’s room. Right before they entered, Pandora stopped and pulled James down so they were eye level. “You seem really nice, James, but don’t fuck with Reggie, okay?” 

James blinked. While this woman was a head shorter than him and possibly one of the least menacing people he’d met, she seemed genuinely terrifying as she stared at James with her soft smile. “Of course not.” 

Pandora winked at him, letting go immediately. “Perfect! It’s more likely than anything that you won’t be the one to fuck up, but I’ve got to cover my bases, don’t I? Now that that’s out of the way, let’s go in.” 

On that ominous note, she threw open the doors with a dramatic flair and skipped into the room. “Reggie,” she sang, “we’re here!”

James gaped at Regulus as he smiled at her. It was a real one too, not one of the ones he always flashed in movies. “Thanks Dora.”

Regulus seemed to defrost around Pandora, the cold and calculating exterior faltering as he spoke to the whimsical woman. Pandora had placed herself close enough to him that they were practically brushing shoulders, but not close enough that they were actually touching. It was clear to anyone watching them that they cared deeply about each other, and seeing them made some kind of burning hole open in James chest. It wasn’t jealously exactly, but rather a want for the bond they had. A sort of foreboding sense of loneliness, that considering he was about to ask Regulus out he shouldn’t have felt but here it was again. 

James turned to him. “I thought you were busy tonight.” 

Regulus waved his hand dismissively. “Dora owes me a favor, she’s going to deal with it. I decided it was probably more important to spend time with England’s most esteemed racing journalist than talk to some old sycophantic fool.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, but he was still there, so James chose to ignore it. 

“Yeah?” James smirked at him. “Endeared by my charms, were you?” 

Regulus scoffed, turning away. “Sure, spilling orange juice all over my very nice shirt, extremely charming.”

Laughing, Pandora started towards the door. “Goodbye James,” she told him, and “Reggie, call me tonight!” she called over her shoulder as she skipped towards the door. 

They both chorused an obligatory “Goodbye, Pandora,” and then Regulus looked at him expectantly. “Well, where are we going?”

James stood for a second trying to remember the most romantic place close by, but swore as his smile dropped. “Shit. I have dinner with my friends tonight. I could cancel?” 

Regulus looked thoughtful for a second, then told him, “No, take me. As your date.” 

James laughed. “Are you sure? Meeting the friends on the first date?”

This only seemed to make Regulus more determined, adamantly telling James, “If that’s alright with them. I’m leaving tomorrow, and I’m not just going to spend my night moping around here alone.” 

...

When they rang the doorbell to Frank and Alice Longbottom’s house, the bell buzzed for only a second before the door was flung open. “Jamie! Oh, and you must be James’ guest? I’m Frank.” 

“Yes,” Regulus told him, accepting a handshake, “I’m Regulus.” 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Regulus!”

Looking him up and down, Frank tilted his head. “Huh. Have you ever been told you look like Regulus Black?” 

James coughed to try to cover up his laugh at that. Shifting closer to him, the almost nonexistent smile playing across Regulus’ lips was visible through his normally statuesque poker face. “I have.” 

Frank invited them in, gesturing for them to step inside, and the scent of burning food wafted around them. He swore, hurrying to the kitchen and leaving them alone near the door. 

James grinned at Regulus. “This will be fun. Fair warning though, Frank’s cooking is…well, subpar to say the least.” 

Regulus scrunched his nose, looking the picture of a wealthy aristocrat. “That much was obvious. I smelled it burning the second he opened the door.” 

As they walked towards the kitchen, James could see Frank inside pacing back in forth in front of Alice.

When Frank spoke, he sounded a bit faint. “He actually brought someone.” 

“Well, miracles do happen sometimes.” 

Regulus snickered as James gasped, sauntering into the little kitchen. 

“Come on in, sorry about him.” Alice wheeled over to them, her wheelchair gliding across the wooden floor. 

She didn’t sound apologetic in the least, and her eyes glinted with amusement. Holding out her hand Regulus to shake, her grip was tight and unrelenting as if trying to ground herself. “Hi, I’m Alice,” she told him kindly.  

“Alice, this is Regulus.” 

Alice laughed. “Right. Like Regulus Black, bet you get that one a lot.” Alice blinked. “Regulus Black?” 

Frank whipped around. “Oh my god.” 

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” 

The doorbell rang, and Regulus took the opportunity to exit the conversation and started towards the door. James trailed after him like a lost puppy, opening the door for Marlene and her girlfriend Dorcas. They were mid conversation, their hands linked together.

Marlene stepped in, slipping out of her shoes as she bounded over to James, but Dorcas paused when she saw Regulus. “Reg?” 

She cocked her head, her chunky mismatched silver earrings shaking as she looked at him. “It’s you, right?”

Regulus gaped at her, for once looking as if he had no idea how to react. “Dorcas?”

Dorcas broke into a grin, her pearly white teeth almost blinding James as she pulled Regulus into a brief side hug. “Marlene! This is Regulus, we were best friends in collège. How long has it been since we’ve seen each other?” 

“Since we were 15.” 

Dorcas laughed. “Look, I’m still taller than you too.”

Regulus crossed his arms, giving her a derisive look that James could tell didn’t really hold any heat. “Okay, I see how it is.”

“Don’t be idiotic. What are you doing here?” 

Regulus tilted his head at James, and thinking it was best to let them catch up alone he linked arms with Marlene and led her back to the kitchen. 

As they walked to the kitchen he heard the murmur of Regulus and Dorcas’ voices behind him, telling each other about their lives. Dorcas was a scientist; she was smarter than four of James combined, though if you were to guess her job you might’ve guessed model. She had that it-factor, like Reg, with her deep umber skin and honeyed eyes, and the fact that she was even taller than the six foot James. Honestly, he was a bit afraid of Dorcas. He’s never met someone so ambitious or determined, and he was motivated by proxy when he was with her. She took each wrong in the world personally, and she would never let any slight pass. But he’d also never met someone so intense, and when Dorcas was angry at you she was angry. She was intimidating in that her-gaze-could-turn-you-to-stone way.  

He stared down at Marlene, the absence of her boots adding 3 inches giving him a direct look at her browning roots that leeched into the blonde. “Has she ever mentioned knowing Regulus?"

“Who?” 

“The celebrity?? The man speaking to her right now?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously. She never mentioned it to you?” 

He flicked her forehead. “No! Why didn't you tell me this when he came into the shop?” 

"Not sure. I didn't think of it." 

As they slipped into the kitchen, Alice gestured frantically at them to come closer. Quickly she moved a large pile of colorful books off the counter to allow a more direct line of sight between them, then used it to glare at James. “Quickly, quickly. James, what the hell are you doing with Regulus Black?” 

James grinned at her. “Taking him out. Isn’t he wonderful?” 

“Well, yes, but jesus, James. Where did you even meet him?” 

“At the shop, and then I spilled orange juice on him.” 

“How in the world did he agree to go out with you after you spilled orange juice on him?” 

Marlene scrunched her nose, blowing her hair out of her face. “Wait—I’m so lost.” 

Frank scowled at her. “James has brought the Regulus Black to our dinner, didn’t think to tell us beforehand, and now we have to feed a celebrity burnt guinea fowl!” 

By the time Regulus and Dorcas strolled back into the kitchen, they had given up on grilling James, attempted to salvage the guinea fowl, failed, and settled on trying to plate it in a way where it didn’t look crunchy. Once they had sat down, James observed Regulus from across the table. He didn’t seem uncomfortable at the dinner, but he didn’t seem completely confident either. For someone who appeared to be exactly in control at all times, he seemed awkward when surrounded by the loud group. 

Seeming to sense this, Alice turned to him. “What do you think of the Guinea fowl?” 

Regulus cringed slightly, giving her an apologetic look. “I’m vegetarian.”

Alice looked horrified. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Do you need something else?” 

After assuring her that he was fine and she had no reason to apologize, they started to discuss the shooting process of his latest movie and her own career as an author. He seemed to light up as she told him about her book, promising to read it when he had time to give her his thoughts. 

As they were speaking, Frank turned to him with a hopeful smile. “So how’s the guinea fowl?” 

Regulus took one look at his hopeful face and lied through his teeth. “Best guinea fowl I’ve ever tasted.”

Alice chuckled next to him, sending Regulus a secretive smile. Turning back to Marlene, James caught the end of one of her various rants about the book store. Working a job where you have to consistently interact with stuck up customers while simultaneously being one of the most opinionated, short-tempered people around made for a bit of a disaster, but The Travel Book Co wouldn't be Travel Book Co without Marlene. The owner, though wicked at scrabble, had a foot in the grave already and James and Marlene practically ran and handled the entirety of the store themselves. Putting up with her complaining was just part of the job (he didn't know what he'd do if one day Marlene did her work enthusiastically), and it was enough to convince almost everyone else to treasure their own job. 

As the slightly charred food was passed around the table and bad indie music blared out of Marlene's old speaker James looked at everyone appreciatively. His friends were part of his family as far as he was concerned, and sharing it with Regulus felt a bit like sharing part of his soul. 

As dinner finished, Regulus rose out of his chair. His impeccable manners held, even as James' chair toppled on its side with a loud thud as he stood.

Regulus found himself shaking Alice’s hand. “It was lovely to meet you,” he told her. Her dark eyes crinkled as she smiled at him, the curls that always seemed to cover her face swept behind her ears. 

She leaned in, stage whispering humorously. “And you. I’ll wait until you’re gone to tell Frank you’re vegetarian.” 

Frank’s head whipped towards them, a devastated look on his face. “No.” 

Gathering her large canvas bag from the floor, Dorcas passed Regulus a crumpled piece of paper. “My number, ring me whenever. I'm not letting you escape me that soon again." 

Regulus hummed and took her hand, squeezing it tightly before letting it fall back to her side. “Will do.” 

Hugging him firmly, James told , then intensely stared at Marlene before they attempted to remember their 12 step handshake. He smiled widely at Dorcas and Alice, waving as he made his way into the street. "Bye Marls! Dorcas! Alice! Frank!" Laughing, the door shut behind him. 

He smiled sheepishly at Regulus as they walked through the dark path. "Sorry about that, we're not great at goodbyes.”

Regulus waved his hand. "It's fine, sweet even."

"Did they make you uncomfortable? I can tell them to back off next time."  

If Regulus had noticed James' silent offer of a second date, he didn’t comment on it, instead dismissing James' concerns. They walked in silence, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood around them: the occasional car whizzing past, the leaves and branches waving in the wind, the faint music pouring from Frank and Alice's neighbor's house. James watched Regulus twist one of the many silver rings adorning his fingers around and around, travelling in enough circles to make him dizzy. 

Finally, Regulus broke the quiet. “Why is Alice in a wheelchair?” 

“Complications at her birth, I think. She's been in one as long as I've known her at least.” 

“Oh.” 

They fell back into silence, not quite knowing what to say.

James thought back to something Regulus had said back in the hotel. “Earlier you said you always used constellations as cover names, why constellations?”

Regulus hesitated, and James hurriedly added, "You don't have to tell me, I was just wondering."

“No, it's fine. It’s a family thing. Everyone in my family is named after stars; my mother and father have long since been rotting in their graves, good riddance, but their fondness for the stars was one thing I haven’t been able to shake. My brother...” He trailed off, and though he spoke apathetically James noticed the way he tensed as he spoke of his brother.

Despite being an only sibling, James knew when not to push. They fell back into silence, but as Regulus looked at James, really looked at him, James knew that he desperately didn’t want this night to be over yet. 

“If you want to come with me, my place is close.”  

Regulus made a dismissive noise. "Too complicated.” Swinging his gaze around, Regulus’ eyes latched onto a large iron gate behind James. “Let’s go in there.” 

Regulus looked him with a pleading look, and James felt any protests he could have made disappear. “Well, alright.” 

Grabbing the fence, James pulled himself up. Clumsily tumbling over the rods at the top, he landed in a large pile on the grass. “Careful,” he huffed, “it’s a bit tricky.” 

Regulus cleared his throat, gracefully scaling the fence and dropping down next to him. 

“Nevermind,” James grumbled. 

Looking around the gated garden with the bright sunflowers and roses frozen under the moonlight, it was as if they had stepped into a storybook. Tucked away in a corner, a small white gazebo stood as if looking over the rest of the garden. Catching sight of it, Regulus pulled him inside. 

“Have you ever been in here before?” 

James shook his head. “Not at night at least. I’ve been once during the day, though.” 

Trailing his fingers along a bench in the corner of the little gazebo, Regulus traced the inscription. “For June, who loved the garden more than life itself, and for Joseph, who loved sitting next to her. 1917-1992. Jesus, some people really spend all their lives together, don’t they?” 

"Mhm." James couldn't help thinking that he wouldn’t mind spending all of his life with Regulus. See, that was the thing about James. He fell hard and fast, and he most certainly didn’t do casual. It was as if the second he liked someone, they were his sun and he was the star pulled into their orbit. They were on a date though, technically, so all James could do was hope Regulus would want to see him again.  

Looking out at the garden, James was suddenly extremely aware of how close they were. Under the moonlight Regulus seemed more siren than human, as if he was about to call James to his death. His face was imprinted in James' mind, and James was sure that he could physically feel other lives, other universes, existing between them. Regulus' eyes told stories of heartbreak, of all consuming love and loss, and as the full moon illuminated him his rings reaching up to James glinted.

“Can I kiss you?” James whispered, trying not to break the trance.

Regulus gazed at him like he was still trying to decide whether he was real; reverently traced the lines of James face as he whispered back, “Yes.”

James kissed Regulus like a man in front of an altar, like he was his salvation, like he held the key to happiness. This time the kiss wasn’t made of stolen seconds. It was unguarded and vulnerable, perhaps too vulnerable for someone James had only met twice, but as their mouths surged together James didn’t know how he’d continue to exist if he never got to kiss Regulus again. James’ jacket was bunched in Regulus' fists, red fabric spilling out and forcing them closer together, and James' hands danced up Regulus' shirt. They roamed along his sides and chest, and as Regulus gasped into his mouth James felt almost faint. 

Regulus pulled back slightly, whispering against James' lips, “Busy tomorrow?” 

“I thought you said you were leaving.” 

“I was.”