Chapter Text
It wasn’t uncommon to get an artificial tattoo. It wasn’t even uncommon to remove the real one. At least it wasn’t uncommon if you moved in circles of people who openly opposed the system, who did not believe in fate determining who your soulmate should be, or might not even believe in the concept of soulmates at all. A person whom you’re destined to fall in love with, to want to spend the rest of your life with, who would fulfil your life’s purpose.
It was still not the norm, but the number of people who refused this play by higher powers grew each year. People who believed the tattoo bore the name of a wrong person. People who believed to have found their soulmate in someone else. People who did not feel romantic attraction and yet still found a soulmate in someone they loved dearly. People who loved more than one person, and saw it ridiculous to assume there could only ever be one single soulmate for anyone. It was a small ripple that slowly spread out, a refusal of the system that’d been in place for so long that it shaped society in all its aspects. People wanted to live life without knowing how it was supposedly meant to go. They wanted to decide their own fate, no matter the consequences of a second or third tattoo, or the absence of one altogether. They knew what they wanted, and society wasn’t going to stop them.
Regulus also knew what he wanted, and while society might not have stopped him either, his parents did.
There were rules and traditions that had to be minded. The name across your heart determined whom you would marry, whether you agreed with it or not. (Although it was generally understood that you would agree with it. They were your soulmate, after all. Why would you not want to marry them?)
From the moment Regulus was born, his future had been set in stone. Or, rather, inked into his skin.
His parents had never cared about what he wanted. Or rather, what he didn’t want. The thing that haunted his nightmares as much as his waking thoughts. A name he could not bear hearing inscribed on the skin of someone he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.
Regulus had never liked his chest. He doesn’t remember what came first, his discomfort with the name tattooed on his skin or the shape his body formed underneath it, the soft curves his mother insisted be supported and framed by delicate lace. He hated looking at it. Avoided it as much he could, although he could never quite banish the memory of the way the name looked on his chest. Blood red ink, a stark contrast against his skin, the letters – small, messily running into each other – stopping just before a mole on his body forming a finality.
James.
An ordinary name. A common one. Regulus knows his parents had been upset about it the first time they read it. He’s not sure they ever quite forgave him for having been born with a common name lining his skin.
Families that cared about traditional values and societal standing would never give their child a common name, one that once upon a time might have sounded traditional itself. The less common a name, the less confusion there could be about a soulmate. If no one shared your name there could be no doubt who you belonged to. Giving children a common name had become another way of avoiding playing the game society dictated. It allowed questions and doubt, options and choosing freely. All things his parents were sure to hate.
At least he should count himself lucky. Sirius had had it worse. His tattoo may have shown a peculiar name not often heard, but their parents had been little impressed when their oldest child, their only son, had born the name of a man on his skin. What purpose was following the direction dictated by the soulmate tattoo when the Black family name could not be carried on through it?
Regulus, of course, avoided telling his parents that their misfortune only continued within him. Yet another boy with a boy’s name over his heart, even if his parents didn’t realise. Not then, and not years later when Regulus told them and they simply ignored his words.
It did make it so much worse to look at that name, though. A name of someone who’d only know him by the name his parents had given him on a body he hated having to show to the world.
It wasn’t fair. None of it was fucking fair.
It takes Regulus twenty-three years to free himself of his parents’ grip and get the courage to do something about the unfairness. In those years he’d gotten introduced to many a James, none of whom had the name of one of Orion’s stars inscribed on their skin, despite some of them attempting to fake it for hopes of money and glory.
Sometimes (silently, secretly) Regulus wonders if there is a James with his name on his chest out there at all. He knows that there are cases when things go wrong, and mistakes are born; Cases where the bearer of a name does not have a person to match. An unrequited soulmate.
Regulus has felt himself a mistake often enough. He wonders if this, too, is something that makes him other, wrong.
Sometimes he wonders if he’d still prefer it over a soulmate with his other, wrong name over his heart.
Throughout all twenty-three years of his life, Regulus’ parents were thorough in their investigation of any potential soulmate candidate. It did not matter how well suited or charming, how rich or influential a suitor was. If his tattoo did not match Regulus’, or if it could not withstand Walburga and Orion’s careful inspection, they were turned away instantly. A swindler should never marry their daughter and father her children.
Regulus wonders if in the end his parents would have preferred one of those swindlers over the real James.
Regulus first meets his supposed soulmate when said soulmate walks into an awkward first conversation between Sirius and Regulus.
Despite his better judgement Regulus decided to reach out to his estranged brother. At that time, leaving their childhood home had seemed like a good enough conversation starter to potentially rebuild a relationship.
In truth, however, they managed a stilted conversation for about ten minutes, in which they realised that beyond growing up at Grimmauld Place and eventually leaving without their family’s grace they had absolutely nothing in common. How do you reconnect with someone whom you’ve known for your entire life, who’d become a perfect stranger, when you can’t even talk about the books you like? When your own brother does not even know your real name at the start of the conversation?
Regulus doesn’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse when the door to Sirius’ flat gets thrown open noisily, and someone announces, far too loudly, “Guess who embarrassed himself in front of the pretty coffee shop girl again?” before even having properly entered.
Regulus raises his eyebrow at his brother, part question part judgement.
“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Sirius says. “That’s my flatmate.”
“You hadn’t mentioned you have a flatmate,” Regulus says accusingly. Not that they’d talked a lot yet to begin with. But a warning that their conversation might get interrupted by the appearance of a flatmate would have been nice.
Regulus really should have noticed then that Sirius also hadn’t mentioned said flatmate’s name. It should have been a sign. As should have been the uncomfortable look Sirius sends between Regulus and the (Regulus’ breath gets stuck in his throat) infuriatingly attractive man walking into the living room now.
“Oh,” the flatmate says, stopping abruptly in his tracks when he spots Regulus sitting on Sirius’ sofa. “Fuck, sorry, I forgot today is Thursday. So you must be M–”
“Regulus,” Regulus interrupts quickly, not wanting to hear his deadname now. He hates that this is the first impression this person, clearly very entwined with his brother’s life, has of him.
It’s not Sirius’ fault. Sirius didn’t know. It was only after he’d left Grimmauld Place that Regulus had taken on his new name, and only after he himself had left years later that he had actually used it in real life. “I’m Regulus,” he says again. “Sirius’ brother.”
The flatmate’s eyes go huge, and then he looks from Regulus to Sirius and back, a touch of shock on his features. Great, Regulus thinks. So he has a problem with trans people. Fucking wonderful.
When the flatmate still hasn’t said anything several seconds later and the silence in the room has started taking up all the oxygen, Sirius clears his throat uncomfortably. “Regulus, that’s my best friend–” Of course he fucking is. That is just Regulus’ luck. “–James,” Sirius adds with a wince.
Regulus had thought that after over twenty years of being confronted with this name every day, after more Jameses he’s met than he can count anymore at this point, he’d be immune to hearing the name. And yet, his heart still gives a little flutter, his eyes still immediately snapping towards him, wondering if this time – this time – it is him. If this time he will have to read his old name written across someone’s heart.
When Regulus looks at him, James flinches. “Sorry, I need to– I forgot I had a thing, I have to–” James stutters. “I gotta go. Was nice meeting you.” He gives a curt nod towards Regulus, then turns on his heel and leaves the room again, shortly followed by the door to the flat falling shut with yet another loud bang.
Regulus stares after him for several seconds more. “Well,” he says bitterly, finally turning back to his brother. “Your flatmate seems lovely.”
“Give him a minute,” Sirius answers, not quite meeting his eyes. “James just has to get used to this first.”
“To what, the existence of trans people?” Regulus snaps.
“What?” Sirius says aghast, finally looking at him properly. “No! Gods, no! James isn’t transphobic or whatever, Jesus, Regulus, what the fuck.”
Regulus huffs. “Then what the fuck is his problem?”
Sirius presses his lips together and looks away.
It was a mistake coming here, clearly. Regulus had hoped he might get to have a relationship with his brother again as he did when he was eight. But neither of them is a child anymore and while Sirius is still his big brother, Regulus is no longer his little sister, and clearly that, too, changed something. They can’t go back to what they had before when they’re both no longer who they were back then. He should have never hoped otherwise.
“I’m gonna go,” Regulus mumbles.
“M– Regulus,” Sirius says, pleads, a hand stretched out to stop him from getting up. “I’m sorry. I’ll explain, or– or James will explain eventually, just not today. Not right now, okay? Let’s ... I’m so happy you reached out. Let’s just talk about us for today, alright?”
It takes a moment, but eventually Regulus settles back down on the sofa with a sigh. His brother is clearly trying, he wants it as much as Regulus does, and that has to count for everything. “Talk,” he sighs.
Sirius gives a relieved smile.
Regulus doesn’t see James again for a few weeks, despite meeting again with his brother several times at his place. Every time Regulus comes over James isn’t there. At first Regulus doesn’t notice it as anything out of the norm. Mostly he is relieved by the absence of Sirius’ flatmate. Talking to his brother still isn’t easy, and Regulus probably would have given up already, if Sirius wasn’t so insistent on still trying. So painfully optimistic and hopeful that they can fix that thing they never really got to have.
Eventually, however, it becomes obvious that something about James’ absence isn’t normal. That it is orchestrated and deliberate. That James isn’t here because Regulus is. Once he’s noticed he cannot unnotice it. The way Sirius avoids bringing attention to it. The way his name is never mentioned at all. How Sirius changes the subject whenever the conversation steers too close to his best friend.
It takes Regulus three more meetings before he finds the courage to ask about it.
“Why is James never here?”
“He is busy,” Sirius gives the immediate vague response.
“With what?”
Sirius looks uncomfortable, but at least he doesn’t immediately talk about the weather again. “He does a lot of sporty stuff. Also has an insane social life, honestly.”
Regulus squares his jaw, staring at the glass of orange juice in his hands and wonders if he should just drop the subject.
Except he can’t. He knows he can’t. Because James not being here is all he’s been able to think about for the last few weeks.
“Does he hate me or something?” he blurts out eventually.
Sirius raises his eyebrows in surprise. “What makes you think that?”
“I know you two spend a lot of time together,” Regulus says. “Yet he is never home when I’m visiting. And I’m starting to feel that’s because he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.” The knuckles of his hands whiten with the effort to keep his hands from trembling. “And our first meeting wasn’t exactly nice. I just don’t understand why he hates me, if it’s not because he’s a bigoted arsehole.”
“He’s definitely not,” Sirius defends his best friend immediately. “One of his best friends is literally also trans, so that would be really fucking weird of him.”
Regulus shrugs, drawing in on himself. “So what did I do?”
“Nothing!” Sirius swears at once.
Regulus glares at him.
Sirius pretends he can’t see it.
“Just tell me he isn’t avoiding me on purpose.”
Sirius stays silent.
It shouldn’t matter to Regulus. It really shouldn’t. From all he’s gotten to know about James Potter so far, he doesn’t even like him, so why would he care about having upset him in some way? And yet, Regulus cannot help the way his insides squirm uncomfortably on the confirmation that he is the reason James is spending less time in his own home these days.
“Great,” Regulus mutters. It’s fine. He doesn’t care. It doesn’t fucking matter if some shitty guy likes him or not.
“You really didn’t do anything wrong,” Sirius says, because despite the years of not having known each other he can still read Regulus a little too well. “This isn’t your fault.”
“So you’re just best friends with a twat.”
“I mean, yeah,” Sirius says. “But I only get to say that ‘cause he’s my best friend. He actually really is very lovely. You–” Sirius’ mouth snaps shut.
“I what?” Regulus inquires.
“Nothing.”
Regulus huffs angrily. “You need to tell me something.”
Sirius mutters something intelligible.
“What?”
“You’d like him,” Sirius mumbles. He looks a little pained when he says it. Regulus has no idea what’s going on.
Regulus doesn’t get answers until much later. He’s gotten to know Sirius by now. The real Sirius. The Sirius his brother was meant to become. The one their parents hated to see. The one that used to make Regulus feel safe and home and himself when he was a child. Only it’s better now, because Regulus really gets to be himself now, and Sirius gets to learn to know him now too.
He never really stopped loving his brother. Even during their last year of living together, when they barely spoke, and when all they did was fight. Even after, when Regulus was left behind as Sirius made a new and better life for himself. Even then he never managed to stop loving his brother. But it is different now, because it is no longer born from necessity, from living in the same place through the same horror and needing someone by your side. Now loving him is a choice.
After the first time they laughed together until they cried, and then cried together until they fell asleep on the living room floor, drunk on wine and lost memories, Sirius introduced Regulus to Remus Lupin.
Of course Regulus already knew of him. He’s known of Remus since the moment he was born. That name has created more turmoil in Regulus’ life than he is ever going to tell Sirius about now, not with how their relationship has stabilised over the weeks. So he knows of Remus. But until Sirius, tentatively, his face flushed deep red, suggested it, Regulus had never thought he’d want to meet the man.
He still isn’t sure he wants to, even now, as they’re on their way to Remus’ flat. But it doesn’t really matter anymore. He knows it’s important to Sirius, and Regulus – well, Regulus loves his brother. Which means that for him he will put in the effort to also love – or, as a start, at least get to know – Remus’ Lupin.
Remus lives together with another friend of his and Sirius. The first impression Regulus has of Peter Pettigrew is that he doesn’t like him very much, because he reminds Regulus far too much of himself in the most exhausting parts. It makes it hard to focus on all the ways they’re different, which, objectively, are a lot more than their similarities, so Regulus focusses on Remus instead.
Remus is nothing like Regulus would have imagined Sirius’ soulmate to be. He is tall and lanky and has the general presence of a slightly damp towel someone forgot to hang up to dry. He is quiet and soft-spoken and for the first half hour Regulus genuinely cannot figure out what him and Sirius could possibly be talking about in their shared time. But then he catches Remus looking at Sirius, and Sirius murmuring something to him under his breath, ignorant of anything else happening around them, and Regulus gets it. He sees it in the way they touch and the way they glance at each other. He sees it in the records piled high in a corner and the photos hung up on the wall. He sees it in the way Remus laughs loudly and the way Sirius goes quiet to listen, and he understands.
“They’re disgustingly sweet, aren’t they?” Peter says to him at some point, watching the two leaning close to each other as they’re working together in the kitchen, making tea and setting out biscuits. “I’m so glad that usually when Sirius comes over James does too and I don’t have to third wheel these two. Honestly thankful he sat this one out, I’d have hated having to sit between two pairs of soulmates.”
“What?”
“Oh, you know–”
“He doesn’t, Pete,” Sirius says, his sweet talk with Remus’ abandoned, his voice clipped.
“What?” Regulus asks again. He can feel all the blood leave his face.
“You’ve not told him?” Peter asks confused, looking back and forth between Sirius and Regulus.
“Told me what?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Sirius says, and Regulus’ blood freezes.
“He’s not my soulmate,” Regulus hisses.
“I never said–”
“I’m not his soulmate.”
“I mean he does have your–”
“Peter,” Sirius snaps, effectively shutting off the muttering.
But Regulus has heard enough anyway. He gets it now. Everything makes too much sense.
“I’m leaving,” he says coldly. He gives a quick nod towards Peter and Remus, a curt, “It was nice meeting you,” and, ignoring Sirius’ objections, makes a quick escape.