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The classroom had that slow, suffocating kind of boredom that made time feel like it was dragging itself across the floor.
Sunlight leaked through the tall windows in long, dusty beams, catching on drifting particles like the air itself had given up. Somewhere near the back, a quill scratched in uneven bursts. Someone yawned. Someone else tapped their foot like they might claw their way out of their own skin if the lesson went on much longer.
At the front, Professor Binns droned on in that same endless, toneless voice.
“And in the seventeenth century, the Goblin Rebellions—”
“I am going to die,” Sirius Black announced flatly, slumped so far down in his chair he looked like he might melt off it entirely.
“You said that ten minutes ago,” Remus Lupin murmured, eyes still on his book, though the page hadn’t changed in a while.
“That was the premonition,” Sirius replied. “This is the event.”
James Potter snorted softly, one arm thrown lazily over the back of his chair—
—and the other wrapped around Regulus Black.
Regulus sat tucked into his side like it was the most natural place in the world. Calm. Composed. One shoulder angled slightly into James, his head tipped just enough that if he leaned an inch more, he’d be resting fully against him.
He didn’t look bored.
He looked… settled.
His fingers idly traced the grain of the desk, his expression distant but not unhappy, eyes half-lidded like he’d found a quiet space inside the noise.
James’s thumb brushed absentmindedly against Regulus’s arm where it rested under his, a slow, thoughtless motion.
Familiar.
Easy.
Sirius noticed.
Of course he did.
His gaze had been flicking over for the past five minutes, each glance sharper than the last, like something sour was building behind his teeth.
He watched the way Regulus leaned.
The way James didn’t move him.
The way James didn’t even seem to notice he was doing it.
Sirius’s mouth twisted.
“Oh, brilliant,” he muttered, louder this time. “Absolutely brilliant. I’m being replaced in real time.”
James didn’t even look up. “You’ve been replaced for years, mate.”
“By my own brother?” Sirius shot back, sitting up a little. “That’s low, even for you.”
Regulus didn’t react.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t even glance at him.
Sirius’s eyes narrowed.
“Oh, sorry,” he went on, voice dripping, “didn’t mean to interrupt whatever this is.”
James finally huffed a quiet laugh, squeezing Regulus slightly where his arm rested around him. “You’re not interrupting anything.”
“Feels like I am,” Sirius said. “Feels like I’ve walked in on something deeply tragic.”
“That would require you to have walked anywhere,” Remus said mildly.
Sirius ignored him.
He leaned forward instead, propping his chin on his hand, eyes fixed on James now.
“Come sit with me,” he said.
James blinked, amused. “I am sitting.”
“With me,” Sirius repeated, like it was obvious. “Obviously.”
Regulus’s fingers stilled.
Only for a second.
Then they resumed.
James grinned, glancing over. “You’re literally right there.”
“Not the point,” Sirius said, waving a hand. “You’re supposed to be over here. That’s how this works.”
“Oh, is it?” James said, laughter threading through his voice.
“Yes,” Sirius said firmly. “You’ve been stolen.”
“Stolen?” James echoed.
“Kidnapped,” Sirius corrected. “By—” he gestured vaguely at Regulus without even looking at him, “—that.”
There was a flicker then.
Small.
Sharp.
Gone.
James laughed under his breath, shifting slightly so his shoulder pressed a bit more into Regulus’s. “I don’t recall asking for help.”
“You don’t have to ask,” Sirius said, leaning back dramatically. “I can see you’re suffering.”
“I’m devastated,” James agreed solemnly.
“Exactly,” Sirius said. “Look at you. Trapped. Miserable. Forced into—what is that, physical affection? Horrific.”
James huffed out a laugh, playing along easily. “It’s truly unbearable.”
Sirius reached out a hand across the small gap between their desks.
“Come back to me,” he said dramatically.
James immediately mirrored him, stretching his own hand out like they were separated by something far more tragic than a narrow aisle.
“Sirius,” he said, voice dropping into something mock-soft, mock-pained, “I can’t.”
“You can,” Sirius insisted.
“I’m being held against my will.”
“Fight it, James.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
Their fingers hovered just short of touching.
Ridiculous.
Over-the-top.
Familiar.
Around them, a few of the others snorted quietly.
Mary pressed her hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking.
Marlene leaned sideways into Alice, whispering something that made Alice choke on a laugh.
Fabian and Gideon exchanged looks, both grinning like this was the best entertainment they’d had all week.
Frank rubbed a hand over his face like he was physically exhausted by them.
Lily didn’t laugh.
She watched.
Remus’s gaze flicked, just once, toward Regulus.
Regulus wasn’t leaning anymore.
At some point—no one seemed to notice when—he’d shifted.
Just slightly.
Just enough that there was space now between him and James.
James didn’t notice.
He was still reaching.
Still smiling.
Still entirely focused on Sirius.
“Save me,” he said, grinning.
“I’m trying!” Sirius shot back, leaning further forward. “You’re not cooperating!”
“I’m doing my best!”
“Your best is pathetic!”
“I’m wounded!”
“You should be!”
Their hands finally brushed.
Triumphant.
Dramatic.
Completely idiotic.
Sirius grinned like he’d won something.
James laughed, letting his hand drop.
Neither of them noticed that Regulus had gone completely still.
That the calm had drained out of him, leaving something quiet and cold in its place.
That his gaze had dropped, unfocused.
That his shoulders had drawn in just slightly, like something invisible had tightened around him.
Remus noticed.
Lily noticed.
No one else did.
Professor Binns droned on.
“And the treaty of—”
“Oi,” James said suddenly, glancing down. “You alright?”
Regulus didn’t respond.
James frowned faintly. “Reg?”
Nothing.
“Hey,” James nudged him lightly with his elbow. “What’s wrong?”
Regulus’s fingers curled against the desk.
“Nothing.”
Flat.
Too quick.
James blinked. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“It’s nothing,” Regulus repeated.
James studied him for a second, confusion creeping in. “You were fine a second ago.”
Regulus didn’t look at him.
“Reg,” James said, softer now. “What’s up?”
Silence.
“Did I do something?”
A pause.
Then—
“Yes.”
James stilled. “What?”
Regulus’s jaw tightened.
“You always do this.”
James frowned. “Do what?”
Regulus let out a short, sharp breath, like something in him had finally snapped loose.
“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between James and Sirius without looking at either of them. “This exact thing. Every time.”
James blinked, genuinely lost. “It’s just a joke—”
“Yeah,” Regulus cut in, his voice sharper now. “Yeah, I know. It’s always just a joke.”
A few heads turned.
The air shifted.
Sirius rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, for—”
“No,” Regulus snapped, finally looking up.
His gaze was sharp.
Cold.
Hurt in a way that sat just under the surface like something dangerous.
“No, actually, I’m done pretending it’s funny.”
James stared at him. “Reg—”
“You two do this every time I’m here,” Regulus went on, voice low but cutting. “Every single time. Like I’m not even—” he broke off, jaw tightening harder. “Like I’m just… something in the way.”
“That’s not—” James started.
“It is,” Regulus said flatly. “It is. And I’m tired of it.”
Sirius huffed. “Oh my god, are you serious right now?”
Regulus’s eyes snapped to him. “Yes.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Sirius said, waving a hand dismissively. “We’re joking.”
“Yeah,” Regulus said, a bitter edge creeping in. “You keep saying that like it makes it better.”
“It does,” Sirius said. “Because it’s not that deep.”
“It is to me.”
That landed.
Harder than anything else.
James’s expression shifted, something uncertain flickering there. “Reg, I didn’t—”
“You never do,” Regulus cut in. “You never realise. You never stop. You never—” he let out a breath, sharp and unsteady. “You just laugh. Every time. Like I’m part of it.”
James looked genuinely shaken now. “I thought you were—”
“In on the joke?” Regulus said. “Yeah. That’s the problem. I’m not.”
Sirius scoffed. “You could’ve said something.”
“I am saying something,” Regulus snapped.
“Now,” Sirius shot back. “After sulking about it—”
“I wasn’t sulking,” Regulus said, his voice going dangerously quiet. “I was trying to ignore it. Like I always do.”
“Bit dramatic,” Sirius muttered.
Regulus laughed then.
It wasn’t warm.
It wasn’t amused.
It was sharp and hollow and a little bit broken at the edges.
“Right,” he said. “Of course I am.”
James ran a hand through his hair, clearly scrambling. “Okay—okay, wait. Just—hang on. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that, alright? We were just messing around—”
“That’s the point,” Regulus said. “You were messing around. At my expense. Again.”
“It wasn’t at your expense—”
“It always is.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
James opened his mouth.
Closed it.
“I didn’t know,” he said finally.
Regulus stared at him.
Something in his expression shifted.
Not softer.
Not kinder.
Just… done.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”
Sirius threw his hands up. “This is insane. You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”
Regulus didn’t even look at him this time.
“Fuck you,” he said, calm and cutting.
Sirius’s eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
James flinched. “Reg—”
“No,” Regulus said, standing abruptly. The chair scraped loudly against the floor. “I’m serious. I’m done with this.”
“With what?” James asked, still half-risen himself.
“With you,” Regulus said.
The words landed like a spell.
James froze.
“What?”
Regulus met his eyes.
Steady.
Certain.
“I’m done.”
James shook his head slightly, like he hadn’t heard properly. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“This is because of a joke?”
“This is because you don’t know when to stop,” Regulus said. “Or when to actually give a shit.”
James looked like he’d been hit.
“That’s not fair—”
“It is to me.”
Sirius scoffed again, but there was less bite in it now. “You’re really breaking up with him over this?”
Regulus finally looked at him again.
There was nothing warm in it.
Nothing soft.
“Watch me.”
Then he turned.
Walked.
Straight past them.
Across the room.
Dorcas Meadowes looked up as he approached, one brow lifting slightly.
“Move,” Regulus said shortly.
Dorcas shifted immediately, sliding her bag off the chair beside her without a word.
Regulus sat.
Rigid.
Silent.
He didn’t look back.
Not once.
Across the room, everything felt… off.
James was still standing halfway out of his seat, like he didn’t know whether to follow or stay.
Sirius had gone quiet.
Remus watched Regulus for a long moment, then looked away, jaw tight.
Lily exhaled slowly, her gaze flicking between all of them, something deeply unimpressed settling into her expression.
Mary leaned toward Marlene, whispering, “That was not good.”
“No,” Marlene murmured. “No, it was not.”
Fabian and Gideon weren’t grinning anymore.
Frank looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.
Alice glanced at Lily, then back at James, concern etched across her face.
Professor Binns continued droning, entirely oblivious.
James finally sank back into his chair.
Slowly.
Staring at the empty space beside him like it might explain something.
It didn’t.
Across the room, Regulus sat with his arms folded, gaze fixed firmly ahead.
Dorcas didn’t say anything.
Just nudged a piece of parchment slightly closer to him.
A quiet, wordless offering.
Regulus didn’t react.
But after a moment—
his hand shifted.
Just slightly.
Closer.
Silence didn’t fall.
It pressed.
Heavy and thick and suffocating, like the air itself had turned to something solid and everyone was breathing through it.
Professor Binns kept talking.
Of course he did.
“…and the Ministry’s subsequent negotiations—”
No one was listening.
Not really.
Every head was angled just slightly off where it should be. Every gaze flicked when it shouldn’t. Every movement felt too loud, too careful, too aware of the crack that had just split the room clean down the middle.
Regulus sat rigid beside Dorcas, spine straight, arms folded tight across himself like he was holding something in.
He didn’t look at anyone.
Not James.
Not Sirius.
Not even his own friends.
Just forward.
Blank.
Dorcas didn’t push.
She just stayed close, one elbow resting lightly against his like a quiet anchor.
Across the room—
James looked like he’d been dropped into the wrong life.
Still half-turned toward the empty space beside him. Still trying to catch up to something that had already happened.
“What just—” he started, voice low, like saying it too loud would make it worse. “What just happened?”
Sirius huffed under his breath, leaning back again, though there was something sharper in his movements now.
“He’s being dramatic,” he muttered. “That’s what happened.”
Lily’s head snapped toward him.
“What?”
Sirius didn’t look at her. “You heard me.”
“Oh, I did,” Lily said, her voice going cold. “I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating the absolute stupidity coming out of your mouth.”
James dragged a hand over his face. “Can we not—”
“No,” Lily cut in. “No, we absolutely can’t not.”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go—”
“Here we go?” Lily echoed, incredulous. “Here we go?”
Her chair scraped as she leaned forward, eyes blazing.
“You don’t get to act confused about this. Either of you.”
James blinked at her. “Lily—”
“No,” she said again, sharper. “You don’t get to sit there and look like you’ve been blindsided.”
“I have been blindsided—”
“Have you?” Lily shot back. “Or have you just not been paying attention?”
James faltered.
Sirius scoffed. “He’s fine. He’s just—”
“Don’t,” Lily snapped, her voice cutting clean through him. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
The room had gone completely still now.
Mary had stopped whispering.
Marlene wasn’t smirking anymore.
Even Fabian and Gideon had gone quiet.
Remus was watching Lily like he’d been waiting for this.
Frank’s jaw had gone tight.
Alice’s fingers twisted together in her lap.
Peter—Peter was already moving.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Dragging his chair, inch by inch, across the stone floor toward the other side of the room.
Toward Regulus.
The scraping sound was soft.
But in the silence, it felt loud.
Too loud.
Lily didn’t look away from Sirius.
“You want to know why he snapped?” she said.
Sirius shrugged. “Because he can’t take a joke?”
Lily let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Right,” she said. “Right, that’s exactly it. It couldn’t possibly be because the two of you treat him like a punchline every time you’re in the same room.”
“That’s not—” James started.
“It is,” Lily said, turning on him now. “It absolutely is.”
James frowned. “We don’t—”
“You do,” Lily said. “You constantly do.”
Sirius rolled his eyes again. “Name one time.”
Lily stared at him.
Then she laughed.
Not amused.
Sharp.
“One time?” she repeated. “You want one time?”
“Yeah,” Sirius said, like he was proving a point.
Lily leaned back slightly, crossing her arms.
“Alright,” she said. “How about last week in the common room.”
James went still.
Sirius’s expression didn’t change.
“You two were on the sofa,” Lily continued, voice steady, cutting. “Practically on top of each other—arms everywhere, legs tangled, laughing like you’d forgotten anyone else existed.”
James’s ears flushed slightly. “We were just—”
“And Regulus was sitting right there,” Lily said, pointing. “At the end of the sofa. Trying to talk to you.”
James’s mouth closed.
“You remember what you said?” Lily asked.
Silence.
“You said—” she tilted her head slightly, voice going eerily precise, “—‘Give us a minute, Reg, I’m busy with my actual soulmate right now.’”
James flinched.
Sirius shifted slightly.
“That was a joke—” Sirius started.
“Oh, I’m not done,” Lily cut in.
She didn’t raise her voice.
She didn’t need to.
“Or how about in the courtyard,” she went on. “When Regulus tried to sit with you and you—” she pointed at Sirius, “—pulled James into your lap and went, ‘Sorry, no room, you’ll have to wait your turn.’”
A few people shifted uncomfortably.
Mary’s eyes flicked to Regulus.
Marlene winced.
“Or the time in the Great Hall,” Lily continued, relentless now, “when you two were literally kissing each other’s faces like idiots—”
“It was not kissing—” Sirius protested.
“You had your hands on his face,” Lily snapped. “And you—” she pointed at James, “—were laughing and calling him ‘love’ and ‘darling’ while Regulus was sitting across from you, trying to have a conversation.”
James’s face had gone red now.
“That’s just how we talk—”
“Exactly,” Lily said. “That’s exactly the problem.”
Silence.
Heavy.
“Because you talk to each other like that,” she went on, quieter now but no less sharp, “and then you turn around and act like Regulus is… what? An interruption? Something in the way?”
James shook his head. “I don’t—”
“You do,” Lily said. “And he’s told you that.”
James stilled.
Remus spoke for the first time.
Soft.
Tired.
“He has.”
James looked at him. “What?”
Remus met his gaze evenly. “He’s brought it up. More than once.”
James blinked. “He—no, he hasn’t—”
“He has,” Remus said. “You laughed.”
James went very still.
“I thought he was joking,” he said weakly.
Remus’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”
Sirius scoffed. “So what, we’re just not allowed to—”
“No one said that,” Lily snapped. “But there’s a difference between being close and making someone feel like they don’t belong there at all.”
“He does belong—”
“Then why do you act like he’s keeping you apart?” Lily demanded.
Sirius opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Lily leaned forward again, voice dropping.
“I’ve watched you two reach for each other over him like he’s not even there,” she said. “Like he’s just… temporary. Like you’re waiting for him to move so you can have your moment.”
James’s throat worked.
“I didn’t—”
“And I’ve watched him,” Lily said, softer now, but somehow worse. “Sit there and pretend it doesn’t bother him. Smile. Stay quiet. Shrink himself so you don’t have to notice.”
Across the room—
Regulus didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
But his fingers tightened slightly where they rested on the desk.
Peter finally reached him.
He stopped just short of the desk, half-perched awkwardly on his dragged-over chair, cheeks flushed.
“Uh—” he said, voice small. “Hey.”
Regulus didn’t look at him.
Peter swallowed, then fumbled in his bag, pulling something out—some kind of chocolate bar, slightly squashed.
He held it out.
“D’you—um. D’you want this?”
Regulus didn’t respond.
Peter hesitated.
Then, gently—
he set it on the edge of Regulus’s desk anyway.
Didn’t push.
Didn’t linger.
Just… left it there.
A quiet offering.
Barty, a few seats over, was watching like he might explode.
Evan’s expression had gone sharp, eyes flicking between Sirius and James like he was memorising something.
Pandora tilted her head, gaze soft and unreadable.
Dorcas stayed exactly where she was, steady and close.
Back across the room—
James looked like something was finally, finally sinking in.
“I didn’t know,” he said again, but it sounded weaker now. “I didn’t realise it was—”
“That bad?” Lily finished.
James didn’t answer.
Sirius huffed, crossing his arms. “He could’ve said something properly instead of—this.”
Remus’s head snapped toward him. “He did.”
Sirius frowned. “Not like that.”
Remus let out a sharp breath. “What, you needed a formal presentation?”
Sirius’s jaw tightened. “I just think he’s overreacting—”
“No,” Remus said, more firmly now. “You just don’t want to admit you’re wrong.”
That landed.
Sirius went still.
James didn’t say anything.
Couldn’t, maybe.
Because across the room—
Regulus finally moved.
Just slightly.
His hand shifted.
Fingers brushing the edge of the chocolate Peter had left.
He didn’t pick it up.
Not yet.
But he didn’t push it away either.
And somehow—
that felt like more than anything he’d said.
The silence didn’t ease.
It stretched.
Warped.
Turned sharp at the edges.
Like something fragile had shattered and no one quite knew how to move without cutting themselves on it.
Regulus didn’t look up.
Didn’t shift.
Didn’t acknowledge the room that had rearranged itself around him.
But the room had rearranged.
Subtly.
Irreversibly.
Mary Macdonald was staring.
Not at Regulus.
At James.
At Sirius.
Her usual softness had burned clean out of her expression, replaced with something hard and unimpressed.
Marlene McKinnon sat beside her, arms crossed, gaze cutting between the two boys like she was weighing exactly how much damage she could do if she felt like it.
“Wow,” Mary said under her breath, not nearly quiet enough. “You’re actually worse than I thought.”
Marlene snorted. “Didn’t think that was possible, but here we are.”
Sirius rolled his eyes, but there was less bite in it now. “Oh, brilliant, the peanut gallery—”
“Shut up,” Marlene said flatly.
He blinked.
Marlene didn’t blink back.
Across from them, Alice Fortescue had leaned halfway into Frank Longbottom, whispering furiously into his ear.
Frank nodded once, slow, eyes flicking toward Regulus and then away again like he didn’t want to stare but couldn’t quite help it.
Alice’s gaze lingered.
Soft.
Worried.
“He looks like he’s about to cry,” Alice murmured, voice tight.
“He’s not,” Frank said quietly.
Alice swallowed. “That’s worse.”
Fabian and Gideon Prewett had gone uncharacteristically quiet.
Fabian rubbed the back of his neck. “We… might’ve missed that.”
“Yeah,” Gideon said, frowning slightly. “That’s on us.”
Fabian glanced at Regulus again, then at Peter hovering awkwardly nearby. “We should—do something?”
“Like what?” Gideon asked.
Fabian hesitated.
Didn’t have an answer.
On the other side of the room—
Barty Crouch Jr. looked like he was about three seconds away from committing a crime.
His fingers drummed against the desk in a rapid, agitated rhythm, eyes locked on Sirius with something feral flickering behind them.
“Oh, I hate them,” he muttered.
“Mm,” Evan Rosier hummed beside him, far too calm for someone whose gaze had gone razor sharp. “Noted.”
Pandora tilted her head slightly, watching Regulus with a strange, quiet intensity. “He’s gone very still.”
Dorcas didn’t look up. “He does that when he’s hurt.”
Barty’s jaw clenched. “Fantastic. Love that for him.”
“Don’t,” Dorcas said without looking at him.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re thinking about it.”
Barty paused.
Then huffed.
“…maybe.”
“Don’t,” Dorcas repeated.
Across the room—
Remus exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over his face before looking directly at James.
“This isn’t new,” he said.
James’s head snapped up. “What?”
Remus didn’t soften it.
“You don’t stand up for him,” he said.
James blinked. “I—what? I do—”
“No,” Remus said. “You don’t.”
Silence.
“You let Sirius say whatever he wants,” Remus continued. “You laugh. You brush it off. You act like it’s nothing.”
“It is nothing—”
“It’s not to him,” Remus cut in.
James faltered.
“And it’s not just Sirius,” Remus added, quieter now, but somehow worse. “You do it too.”
James stared at him. “I don’t—”
“You do,” Lily said.
James looked at her, almost desperate now. “Lily—”
“You make comments,” she said. “Constantly. And you don’t even realise you’re doing it.”
James shook his head. “Like what?”
Lily let out a short breath, like she was holding back a dozen things at once.
“Like when he tries to dress up for you,” she said. “And you laugh and call him ‘over the top.’”
James went still.
“Or when he tries to be romantic,” she went on, “and you say he’s being ‘dramatic.’”
“I was joking—”
“You always are,” Lily said sharply.
James flinched.
“Or when he was nervous about that match last month,” Remus added quietly, “and you told him to ‘stop overthinking and just not mess it up this time.’”
James’s face drained.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You never do,” Remus said.
Lily leaned forward slightly.
“And you ignore him,” she added. “All the time. He’ll be talking to you and you’ll just—drift. Or turn to Sirius. Or laugh something off and move on like he didn’t say anything.”
James shook his head again, weaker now. “That’s not fair—”
“It is,” Lily said. “Because he notices. Even if you don’t.”
Silence pressed in again.
“And the worst part?” Lily said, voice dropping.
James looked at her.
“You don’t even try anymore.”
That hit.
Hard.
James blinked. “What?”
“You chased him for months,” Lily said. “You put in effort. You paid attention. You listened. You made him feel like he mattered.”
James swallowed.
“And then you got him,” she said. “And you stopped.”
James’s chest tightened visibly.
“That’s not—”
“It is,” Remus said quietly.
James looked at him, something almost panicked in his expression now.
“You stopped trying,” Remus said. “You stopped putting in the effort you used to. You stopped—seeing him the same way.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did,” Lily said. “And he noticed.”
James looked like he didn’t know where to put his hands.
“What about the private stuff?” Remus added, almost as an afterthought—but it landed like anything but.
James froze.
Remus held his gaze.
“The things he tells you,” he said. “The things he trusts you with.”
James’s throat went dry.
“You repeat them,” Remus said. “As jokes. To us.”
“I—no, I don’t—”
“You do,” Lily said. “You just don’t think about it.”
James’s face had gone pale now.
“I thought—” he started, then stopped. “I thought it was harmless.”
“It’s not,” Lily said.
Across the room—
Regulus’s fingers curled tighter around the edge of the desk.
Still not looking.
Still not reacting.
But it was there.
The smallest fracture in the stillness.
Sirius scoffed again, but it sounded thinner now. “This is all a bit much, don’t you think?”
Remus turned on him.
“No,” he said.
Sirius frowned. “He’s always been—like this.”
Remus’s eyes flashed.
“Like what?”
Sirius shrugged. “Sensitive.”
A beat.
Then—
“Since first year,” Lily said quietly.
Sirius blinked. “What?”
“You’ve been like this since first year,” she said.
His expression tightened. “That’s not—”
“You have,” she said. “You’ve always been horrible to him.”
“That’s not true—”
“It is,” Remus said.
Sirius looked at him like he’d betrayed him.
Remus didn’t look away.
“You pick at him,” Remus said. “You wind him up. You make him the butt of every joke. And then you act like it’s nothing.”
“He gives as good as he gets—”
“No,” Remus said. “He doesn’t. Not with you.”
That landed.
Sirius didn’t have an immediate comeback.
Lily crossed her arms.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” she said, voice steady now, “if he never forgives either of you.”
James flinched like she’d struck him.
“That’s not—”
“And I wouldn’t blame him,” she added.
James went quiet.
Really quiet.
Lily looked at him.
Long.
Measured.
“Do you have any idea how many people have been trying to date him?”
James blinked. “What?”
“Oh, please,” Lily said. “He’s not exactly lacking options.”
James didn’t respond.
“He’s popular,” she went on. “He’s attractive. He’s talented. He’s—” she gestured vaguely toward Regulus, still sitting rigid and silent across the room, “—that.”
James swallowed.
“Amos Diggory’s been trying for years,” she said. “So has Benjy Fenwick. Gideon—”
Gideon blinked. “Oi—”
“You know you have,” Lily shot back.
Gideon held up his hands. “Alright, fair.”
“Fabian too,” she added.
Fabian winced. “In my defence, I was very respectful.”
“You were not subtle,” Marlene muttered.
Lily continued like she hadn’t been interrupted.
“Kingsley Shacklebolt,” she said. “Caradoc Dearborn. Even Edgar Bones asked him out once.”
James stared at her.
Each name landed like something heavy.
“He turned them all down,” Lily said.
James’s chest tightened.
“Because he wanted you.”
Silence.
“And now?” Lily said, softer, but sharper for it. “I wouldn’t count on that staying the same.”
James didn’t speak.
Couldn’t.
Across the room—
Regulus finally moved again.
Just slightly.
His fingers closed around the chocolate Peter had left.
He didn’t look up.
Didn’t acknowledge anyone.
But he held it.
And somehow—
that was the loudest thing in the room.
The room didn’t recover.
It just… shifted again.
Quieter.
Sharper.
Like something had been peeled back and no one could pretend they hadn’t seen what was underneath.
Lily didn’t look away from James.
Not for a second.
“Alright,” she said.
Her voice wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
It cut straight through everything anyway.
James looked up slowly, like he already knew he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.
“What?” he asked, but it came out thinner than he meant it to.
Lily tilted her head.
“What do you like about him?”
James blinked.
“What?”
“Regulus,” she said. “What do you like about him?”
There was a pause.
Too long.
James opened his mouth—
Closed it.
“I—what kind of question is that?” he tried.
“The kind you should be able to answer,” Lily said evenly.
Sirius shifted beside him. “This is ridiculous—”
“No,” Lily snapped, not even looking at him. “It’s really not.”
James let out a breath, dragging a hand through his hair.
“I mean—he’s—” he started, then stalled.
Across the room—
Regulus finally looked up.
Not sharply.
Not angrily.
Just… blank.
Like he already knew how this was going to go.
Like he’d been here before.
James’s voice faltered under that gaze.
“He’s—” he tried again. “He’s, uh…”
Nothing came.
Nothing real.
Nothing solid.
Just space.
“I—he’s—” James swallowed. “He looks—”
He stopped.
Then rushed it, like speed would make it better.
“He’s fit,” he said. “Obviously. And—uh—he’s—good—”
He hesitated.
“…in bed.”
The silence that followed was violent.
Mary’s head snapped toward him.
Marlene made a strangled noise. “Oh my god—”
Fabian physically recoiled. “Mate—”
Gideon dragged a hand down his face. “No. No, you did not just say that.”
Alice’s expression dropped into something horrified.
Frank stared at James like he’d never seen him before.
Even Sirius blinked.
“What?” James said, defensive now, heat rising up his neck. “That’s not—what’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Lily repeated, dangerously quiet.
Across the room—
Regulus didn’t look surprised.
That was the worst part.
He just… watched him.
Like he’d expected it.
Like he’d already known.
Something in James’s chest twisted.
“I didn’t mean—” he started, but it came out weak.
“Didn’t you?” Lily said.
Remus didn’t say anything.
He didn’t have to.
The look on his face said enough.
“That’s what you came up with,” Lily said. “That’s what you led with.”
James swallowed hard. “I just—panicked—”
“Right,” Lily said. “Because thinking of anything about him as a person was that difficult.”
“I didn’t say that—”
“You didn’t have to.”
James looked back at Regulus.
Regulus held his gaze for exactly one second.
Then looked away.
Like he was done.
Again.
Something in James’s chest cracked.
Lily leaned forward slightly.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s make this easier.”
James didn’t respond.
“What’s his favourite subject?”
James blinked. “What?”
“Favourite subject,” Lily repeated. “Should be easy.”
James hesitated.
“Uh—” he said. “Potions?”
A pause.
Then—
“No,” Pandora said softly.
James looked at her.
“It’s Ancient Runes,” she said. “He just doesn’t talk about it much.”
Regulus didn’t react.
Didn’t confirm it.
Didn’t deny it.
But the quiet in him shifted—just slightly.
Lily didn’t let up.
“Favourite food?”
James opened his mouth.
Closed it.
“…treacle tart?” he guessed.
Dorcas let out a quiet breath through her nose. “Wrong.”
“What is it then?” James snapped, frustration creeping in.
“Peach tarts,” Evan said flatly. “From that place in Hogsmeade. He won’t eat them from anywhere else.”
James’s stomach dropped.
He didn’t know that.
Lily’s voice stayed calm.
“What does he do when he’s nervous?”
James frowned. “He—he doesn’t—he’s not—”
“He twists his rings,” Barty cut in. “Or taps his fingers. Depends how bad it is.”
James’s gaze flicked to Regulus’s hands.
Still.
Now.
But—
He’d seen that.
Hadn’t he?
Hadn’t he?
Lily tilted her head slightly.
“What does he want to do after Hogwarts?”
James stared at her.
“I—” he started.
Nothing.
Silence.
“He wants to travel,” Pandora said quietly. “A lot. Everywhere. He has a list.”
James’s chest tightened.
“He wants to see the Northern Lights,” Dorcas added.
“And the Black Sea,” Evan said.
“And this one stupid little café in Paris he read about once,” Barty muttered.
James’s throat felt tight.
Too tight.
He didn’t know any of that.
Not one thing.
Across the room—
Regulus exhaled softly.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Just… tired.
And he looked away again.
That did it.
Something in James’s face broke.
Subtle.
But there.
Lily saw it.
Didn’t soften.
“Do you know what his favourite flower is?” she asked.
James shook his head slowly.
“Do you know what he does when he can’t sleep?”
Silence.
“Do you know what he’s scared of?”
James swallowed.
No.
He didn’t.
Lily leaned back slightly.
“Do you know what he wants?”
James didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because he didn’t know.
And everyone could see it.
Mary looked furious.
Marlene looked like she wanted to fight someone.
Fabian and Gideon exchanged a look that said we really messed this up.
Alice’s eyes had gone glassy.
Frank stared at the desk.
Remus looked… tired.
Sirius had gone quiet again.
And Regulus—
Regulus just looked done.
Lily tilted her head again, softer now, but no kinder.
“Do you know what Amos Diggory does for him?”
James’s head snapped up.
“What?”
“He brings him books,” Lily said. “On things he’s interested in. Rare ones. He goes out of his way to find them.”
James didn’t respond.
“Benjy Fenwick remembers every little thing he mentions,” she continued. “Favourite sweets. Things he hates. Random facts. All of it.”
James’s jaw tightened.
“Gideon and Fabian,” she said, glancing at them, “walk him back from the pitch after matches. Every time. Don’t they?”
Fabian nodded once.
Gideon didn’t look at James.
“Kingsley Shacklebolt?” Lily went on. “He writes him letters over the holidays. Proper ones. Thoughtful ones.”
James’s chest felt tight.
Too tight.
“Caradoc Dearborn learned an entire language just because Regulus said he liked how it sounded once,” Lily added.
A pause.
Then—
“When was the last time you did anything for him?”
James blinked.
“What?”
“A date,” Lily said. “A proper one.”
Silence.
“Flowers.”
Nothing.
“A gift.”
James’s throat worked.
“Do you tell him he’s pretty?” she asked.
No answer.
“Do you tell him you love him?”
James looked down.
And that—
That was answer enough.
Lily nodded once, slow.
“Right,” she said.
The word didn’t feel like an ending.
It felt like a verdict.
Across the room—
Regulus didn’t look at him.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
But his hand tightened slightly around the chocolate in his palm.
And James—
James finally understood something.
Too late.
Way too late.
And it showed.
The quiet didn’t break.
It fractured.
James stared at the desk like it might rearrange itself into something that made sense, like if he just waited long enough, this would rewind, reset, undo itself.
It didn’t.
It just sat there.
Heavy.
Final.
“No,” he said suddenly.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
Heads turned.
James looked up, something frantic flashing behind his eyes now.
“No,” he repeated, louder. “He—he wouldn’t—”
He gestured vaguely across the room, toward Regulus without quite looking at him.
“He wouldn’t get with them.”
The words hung there.
Desperate.
Ugly.
Barty laughed first.
Short.
Sharp.
Mean.
“Why wouldn’t he?” he asked, tilting his head.
James faltered. “Because—”
“Because what?” Evan cut in smoothly.
Pandora’s smile was soft.
Too soft.
“Do you not understand what ‘we’re done’ means?” she asked gently.
James blinked.
Regulus didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
But the air around him shifted.
Subtle.
Final.
“He broke up with you,” Dorcas said, calm and clear. “Why wouldn’t he get with someone else?”
“He can do whatever he wants,” Barty added, voice light but edged. “He’s not yours.”
James’s chest tightened.
“He was—” he started.
“Was,” Evan corrected.
That landed.
Hard.
James shook his head, like he could physically deny it.
“That’s not—he wouldn’t just—”
“Move on?” Pandora finished softly.
James didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because across the room—
Regulus still hadn’t looked at him.
Not once.
Since.
Sirius let out a sharp huff, cutting through the tension like he always did.
“This is ridiculous,” he said. “He’s not going to get with anyone else.”
Barty’s smile turned slow.
Interested.
“Oh?” he said.
Sirius leaned back, arms crossed, gaze hard.
“Yeah,” he said. “Because no one else is going to put up with him.”
Silence snapped tight.
James flinched.
Remus’s head jerked up.
Lily’s expression went cold.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Marlene demanded.
Sirius shrugged. “Exactly what it sounds like. He’s—” he gestured vaguely, dismissively, “—a lot. Moody. Dramatic. High-maintenance. Potter’s the only one who can deal with that.”
The room went still.
Completely.
Across the room—
Regulus moved.
Not slowly.
Not hesitantly.
Sharp.
Immediate.
His chair scraped back.
The sound cut through everything.
He turned.
Fast.
And the look on his face—
It wasn’t hurt.
Not anymore.
It wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t quiet.
It was clear.
Sharp.
Certain.
Like something had finally clicked into place.
His gaze locked onto Sirius.
And for the first time since this started—
there was no hesitation in it.
No doubt.
No wavering.
Just—
finality.
“Right,” he said.
Quiet.
Flat.
Done.
Sirius blinked.
Just for a second.
Because there was something in that look he hadn’t seen before.
Something that didn’t bend.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t care.
Regulus held it for one more second.
Then—
he looked away.
Like Sirius wasn’t worth the effort anymore.
That hit harder than anything else.
Then Regulus stood.
Fully.
Smooth.
Controlled.
The room tracked him without meaning to.
Peter froze as Regulus approached.
Eyes wide.
Still perched awkwardly on the edge of his dragged-over chair.
Regulus didn’t speak.
Didn’t make a scene.
He just—
reached out.
Tapped Peter lightly on the shoulder.
Once.
A quiet, wordless thank you.
Peter’s face lit up immediately, cheeks flushing bright, something soft and giddy breaking through the tension.
“—yeah,” he said quickly, breathless. “Yeah, no—of course—anytime—”
Regulus didn’t stay.
He moved past him.
Straight toward—
Fabian and Gideon.
Both of them straightened instantly.
Like they’d been waiting.
Fabian blinked up at him. “Hey—”
“Reg?” Gideon said, softer. “You alright?”
They were already reaching for him.
Not grabbing.
Just—
there.
Open.
Ready.
If he wanted it.
Regulus didn’t answer.
Not in words.
He stepped closer.
Close enough that Fabian’s breath caught slightly.
Close enough that Gideon went very still.
And then—
Regulus leaned down.
And kissed Fabian.
Soft.
Quick.
Intentional.
Fabian froze—
then melted.
Immediately.
Hands coming up instinctively, one cupping Regulus’s jaw, the other brushing lightly against his side like he didn’t quite dare hold him fully but couldn’t not touch him at all.
“Hey—” Fabian breathed, smiling already, dazed. “Hi—”
Regulus pulled back just enough—
then turned.
And kissed Gideon.
Gideon made a soft, startled noise—
then smiled into it, warm and grounding, one hand sliding gently to Regulus’s waist, the other brushing his hair back from his face like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“There he is,” Gideon murmured softly when Regulus pulled away.
Fabian huffed a quiet, fond laugh, still holding Regulus’s face lightly. “You alright, sweetheart?”
Regulus’s expression softened.
Just slightly.
For them.
“I will be,” he said quietly.
Gideon’s thumb brushed gently along his jaw. “You deserve better than that.”
Fabian nodded immediately. “So much better.”
“Ridiculously better,” Gideon added.
Regulus let out the smallest breath of something that might’ve been a laugh.
“Yeah,” Fabian said softly, brushing a curl back into place. “You’re allowed to be picky, you know. You’ve got options.”
Gideon hummed. “A lot of them.”
Regulus’s mouth twitched.
“Thanks,” he said, quieter now.
Then—
he stepped back.
Straightened.
And turned.
His gaze flicked across the room.
Landed—
briefly—
on James.
James looked like he’d been hollowed out.
Like everything had finally caught up to him at once.
Then Regulus’s eyes slid to Sirius.
No hesitation.
No softness.
No forgiveness.
He raised his hand.
And flipped him off.
Clean.
Sharp.
Final.
Then he dropped it.
Turned away.
Picked up his bag.
Didn’t look back.
And walked out.
The door shut behind him with a soft, final click.
And the room—
was left with what was left.