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He understands why Sirius left him, for this. Understood the moment he said he was leaving, really. Why would anyone want to stay in that manor, when there are far more inviting homes?
Regulus gets it—knows his resentment is misplaced—but it’s still clung to him. He’d been given the option, a million times and a million ways, to be freed from his parents—to follow the same path as his brother. And still he shook his head, because his parents seemed to be proud of him.
Shook his head when Sirius reminded him the Potters have a spare room, and distracted James when he tried pleading with him. Distracted himself, maybe, from how fucking desperately he wanted out of his own home. Insisted he wouldn’t want to intrude, because he’s sure Sirius has been doing enough for the both of them.
It took two years. Unrelenting pleas and offers—letters every day, once they could no longer ambush him at Hogwarts—until James insisted he couldn’t return home after his seventh year. Sirius was made to believe it was his own convincing that pushed Regulus to agree, and with shaking hands he’d packed his things, the rest still left at home.
Or—Grimmauld Place, whether or not that’s ‘home’, now.
The spare room—his room—is nice. It’s still undecorated, as much as James has said it’s his. Even though Sirius’ every wall is covered in posters, with clothes covering the floor, an electric guitar propped in the corner that he never would’ve even thought to have back home.
Maybe with time. It took time for Sirius too, he’s sure, though he doesn’t talk much of the past, now.
James’ room is cozy. His bed, as little time as he’s managed to spend in it. He’d spent a few nights in each of their rooms, the first week or two after he’d arrived, and James’ felt far more welcoming. Maybe it’s that James feels more welcoming.
Aside from that, the only time he’s had in James’ bed is while Sirius is out with Remus or another friend. He still can’t quite settle into the idea of getting that comfortable while Sirius is around.
But it’s night, and his room is dark—quiet—and while the silence has never exactly bothered him before, something about it has him unsettled, now. The dark of it, too, because he’d been too prideful to ask for the nightlight he knows would ease his anxiety.
Embarrassed might be a better word.
So he lies, eyes unblinking and fixed on the wall beside his bed. It’s been an hour, each passing minute coming with the belief that his anxiety will ebb soon, though it only grows. His chest feels tight, his throat closing every few minutes before relaxing. One foot taps against the mattress, knuckles cracked minute after minute, trying to refrain from drawing blood.
The sharp edge of his nails dig into his palm, trying to ground himself in the moment—that he’s here—but it doesn’t work. His mind keeps going back to his mom, to Grimmauld Place, convincing himself that any day now, they’ll be back, and he’ll lose this. Lose the odd sort of half-comfort he’s managed to create for himself.
With a sigh he sits up, standing from his bed and creeping towards the door. The moonlight that filters in from the hall is a small relief, and after a second he steps out, the door clicking behind him.
He’s scared—like James’ dad is going to round the corner any minute and tell him off. Like Sirius will be awake to see where he’s going.
He walks a few doors down, stops in front of one and lightly taps the wood with his knuckles. Then a bit louder when there’s no response.
There’s a grumble from the other side of the door, and he hesitantly pushes it open, peeking inside to where James is stretching himself awake.
“What now?” he grumbles with a heavy exhale, and Regulus freezes. But when the blankets settle and his eyes find Regulus’ instead of Sirius’, his expression softens, brows pinching together. “What’s wrong?”
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah, ‘f course.”
He shuts the door behind him, lingering for a second before slowly crossing the room to James’ bed. He comes to a stop in front of it, hesitating as their eyes meet before speaking again, even quieter.
“Can I sit?”
“You ask too many questions,” he chides, though his expression is still soft—worried—as he pulls the blankets off himself. “C’mere, lay down.”
He gives an exhale before gently moving to kneel on his bed, wincing a bit at how it creaks under him, and prepares to settle into the space beside him until he meets James’ eyes again. Sees the way his arms are extended slightly, and he shifts to lay on top of him. Legs slotted between his, his head resting against James’ chest, and the arms that wrap around him are warm. They’re welcoming, forcing his racing heart to slow for a moment before James speaks again.
“Not worried about Sirius coming in?”
Regulus shakes his head.
“I am. Need this right now, though.”
“What’s up?”
He freezes. Of course he knows—somewhat, at least—what’s bothering him. He also knows that it takes a lot more strength than he has to admit it. That James is here, and holding him, and that’s enough. He doesn’t know how Sirius adjusted, or if he went to James for it too, or how James reacted. The last thing he needs is to seem weak—to say the dark is scaring him—and so he just shrugs.
“Don’t know.”
“Alright,” James nods, his hold growing a bit firmer, hands squeezing Regulus’ forearms as he does. A comfortable silence settles over them before he adds, “you know you dont need a reason to come in here, yeah? I know you don’t want Sirius finding out, but you’re welcome whenever.”
“I wish he were out more. Like—if he spent more time at Remus’ instead of them always coming here.” He squeezes the skin of James’ back, turning his head slightly to plant a kiss to his conveniently bare chest. The skin is warmed—maybe from him—and he can’t help but press a bit closer. James hums.
“Yeah. Remus needs a break from his family too, though. They’re… a lot.”
“I get it,” he exhales, and in his pause between words thunder starts up in the distance. His heart picks up pace again, his muscles resuming their shaking, but he continues, maybe just a bit weaker. “But it doesn’t help that his room is directly next to mine. They’re both obnoxiously loud. A silencing charm wouldn’t hurt.”
James gives a small laugh, one hand leaving Regulus’ arm to run through his hair. The fingers against his scalp help to calm him slightly, but with each clap of thunder the fear returns.
“I don’t know what their problem is. I think they’re just… really overexcited. At least you haven’t had to share a room with them.”
“I had Barty and Evan. You know how they are.” James hums in acknowledgment. “Different when it’s your own brother a room over, though.”
“You can always… y’know, hang out in here.”
“But Sirius—“
“We have to tell him eventually, Reg.” His heart picks up again, in a way that’s far from pleasant. “I have you in my house—finally—and it feels like I hardly get to see you, still. I want you to be here all the time, I want to get to hold you, I want to kiss you without having to check seven times that no one’s around.”
His stomach twists at the words. He gets it, really. But the concept—the mere possibility—of Sirius being angry with him, he doesn’t want to face. He’s known it’s been coming since he started seeing James, that it was something he’d have to face at some point, but he never thought it’d be now. Rather, he hoped it wouldn’t be quite so soon, and the looming possibility draws his throat tight again. James sighs.
“Sorry. I doubt that’s helping, right now. What can I do?”
“This,” he answers simply, not wanting to admit just yet that James is right.
“Feels like I’m not doing much.”
“Just needed to be here,” he exhales, shifting slightly against James. “Bad night, I’ll be alright soon, anyways.”
James hums. It’s clear he doesn’t quite believe it, but he doesn’t argue back, instead he just holds him a bit closer. The silence sits for a moment before James’ voice breaks through.
“I didn’t mean to be a dick, earlier. Sirius wakes me up all the time, Thought it was him again.”
“Fucking obnoxious, Isn’t he?”
“A little. Mostly when I’m just really tired. Guess it means he’s comfortable here, though, so that’s all I really care about.”
Regulus nods.
“He used to do that,” he says after a minute. Quieter—like it’s just registered to him how long it’s been. How little he’s seen of Sirius these past few years. How much they’ve grown apart. “Too much energy for his own good.”
“Yeah.” His hand slides from around Regulus to tilt his chin up and cranes his neck to plant a kiss to his lips. “Love you.”
Regulus rests his chin against James’ chest to keep his eyes, and James takes to running his hands through his hair, pushing it all away from his face. His eyes flutter shut for a second before forcing open again.
“Love you too.”
“Sleeping here tonight?”
“Don’t think I can.”
James hums, though he doesn’t argue, instead just holding his hair back and studying him. He plants a firm kiss to his forehead before settling against the pillow, still weakly taking in every one of his features, as though he hasn’t done it a million times before.
“Okay,” he nods. “Doing any better, at least?”
Regulus nods.
“I think. Getting there.” He has to fight to pull his arms out from under James, but when he manages to, they skate down his sides, squeezing lightly at his waist. “Sorry to wake you.”
“If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been Sirius. I have no issue with it. Just want you to be alright.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like there’s anything you can do.”
“So? If me being here helps, I’m more than happy to just be here. I get to be with you, and you’re laying on me for like… the first time since you moved in.” His hand traces up Regulus’ spine and threads through his hair to cradle the back of his head. Being with James always seems to clear his mind. Even if the anxiety still simmers under the surface, James occupies the forefront of his mind so he can’t lament on it. Can’t slip further into a spiral. “If you think I’m upset to be awake, you’re dead wrong.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing really comes out. Instead, he lifts himself slightly, hands skating up James’ torso, over his chest, to wrap around his neck. His knee is pressed up between James’ legs, and when he realizes he pulls it back with a small ‘sorry’ before lying down fully, head pressed into the crook of James’ neck. Hands only tighten on his waist, though, slipping under his shirt to rest flat against his skin, words entirely earnest when he responds.
“‘Ts alright.” His thumbs press into Regulus’ skin again before one trails up his back, meeting the curls at the back of his head once again. Like he can’t decide how best to hold him. It’s rare to see James this quiet. He’s always a bit more subdued around Regulus, but this feels like something new entirely. “Been forever since you were this close. Really missed it.”
“Sappy, huh?”
“I can hardly talk to you, with Sirius around. How am I meant to feel?”
“You could hardly talk to me when we were both at Hogwarts, too.”
James sighs, quickly pressing a kiss to the top of Regulus’ head before his words return to him.
“How does that make it any better, though? At least then we had nights.”
His grip tightens. He knows—he gets it. Feels the way his heart twists uncomfortably every time James laughs, because he knows that even if James is his, there’s nothing he can do about it. But he’s fucked up so many times—lashed out at Sirius when he was only trying to help, pushed him away with the insistence he can manage on his own—he doesn’t know how Sirius feels about him, yet. He wants to at least be sure of that before breaking the news. He sighs, a bit shakily.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” James responds, sensing Regulus’ lingering uncertainty in his silence, and he tilts his head back again. “Look ‘t me,” he waits for their eyes to meet fully before continuing. “Not your fault. We’ll tell him when it’s good for both of us. You know I’ve always been okay with waiting.”
“You don’t sound like you are.”
His hand rakes through Regulus’ hair, looking over his face for a moment, like he’s trying to decipher it himself, too.
“I am,” he says finally, and his words sound genuine. “I get tired, sometimes. Of not having this all the time. But as long as I have you, some of the time, I still think it’s worth it.” He pulls Regulus’ hair away from his face, eyes wide, hoping the point will make it through. “I love you. That’s not changing.”
He wants to ask why—how—but the words ease something deep in his chest, even if a lump forms in his throat, and so he only nods.
“I love you too.”
James’ lips curl up into a slight smile, the hand pulling Regulus’ head to rest against his shoulder again, his other hand continuing to run over the skin under his shirt.
He holds him there for Merlin knows how long, his breathing beginning to match the rise and fall of James’ chest with time. One of them shifts occasionally, burying themselves closer to each other, and he’s almost sure he’s fallen asleep before he’s jolted awake again.
“Prongs, have you seen—“
He pauses, and Regulus’ muscles tense instinctively in the silence, though James’ arms tighten around him.
“Fucking hell,” James grumbles, and the door clicks shut again.
“What the fuck? I—sorry—what exactly is this?”
“Pads—“
The reluctance in James’ voice is clear, and it only seems to double Sirius’ anger. When he chances a glance up, his brother’s brows are knit together, looking at James as though he’s lost his mind.
“No, what the fuck is this? I wanted him to live here so he wouldn’t have to deal with our mom, not so you could fucking—whatever this is! James—“
“Pads,” he cuts in again, a bit more forcefully this time, and Sirius’ expression falters for only a second before his gaze turns to Regulus.
His stomach turns under the glare, his throat tightening and his heart picking up pace.
“Are you fucking stupid? Why would you ever—“
“Can we not do this, right now?”
The words shut Sirius up, even if his voice breaks. He hates it. Hates being exactly the person Sirius had left so long ago, but his mouth snaps shut. He shoots one last glare at James, his jaw clenched as he sucks his teeth, but finally he nods. Reluctantly. The tension in his muscles doesn’t ease, and the annoyance in his expression is still just as clear, but he gives up on the accusations.
“Okay.” He nods again, the vein in his jaw pounding as James threads a hand through Regulus’ hair, but he bites back a comment. “Can I stay?”
“Yeah,” Regulus breathes back. His heart is still racing, because he’s spent so long worried of how exactly this would end, but now it’s here. It’s okay. He’s okay.
Sirius knows him—knows how he recovers best, because they’re exactly the same. Because Sirius had spent so many years comforting Regulus. Even if James is still learning, his presence is enough. The hand running over his back is enough to work to settle his nerves.
Sirius sits on the edge of the bed, leaning back after a second so that his back rests against Regulus’ hip. It’s silent for a moment before he huffs.
“James, I swear to Merlin I’m gonna kill you.”
“Ah,” James corrects, pointing at Regulus, as if to provide a counterpoint.
His jaw clenches again, and Regulus is almost sure his eye is twitching in his scowl at James, but a second later his tongue clicks with a deep inhale.
“Okay,” he says again, voice taut. It’s clear he’s less than thrilled, to say the least, but he just nods. His gaze shifts back to Regulus, exhaling heavily. “What’s up?”
A shrug. Eyes search his for another second, sensing that there’s definitely something, just that he doesn’t care to share. Maybe that he doesn’t trust his own voice, right now. Sirius turns to James with raised brows, silently asking the same question.
“I don’t know,” he answers quietly, shaking his head, and Sirius throws his hands up, immediately sitting straighter.
“Oh you don’t know? You dont fucking know either?” His words come out hostile, but from the slight grin curling James’ lips up, he has to assume this is somewhat common. “The best boyfriend in the world doesn’t know what’s wrong? Yeah, fuck you. What a great fucking person you are, asshole.”
Regulus snorts.
“Sirius—“
“I’m actually pissed off, I hope you know,” he cuts in, turning back to Regulus, who nods.
“I know.”
He bites the inside of his lip, looking between the two of them with a sigh. Regulus isn’t scared under his gaze. Not really. He’s not even sure the anger will be directed at him, when it bubbles up again, and James doesn’t seem to mind taking the fall. The hand in his hair is no less sure, and the hand on his back just as firm. His voice didn’t waver, and Regulus can only hope that holds true in the future.
“Can I just ask if you’ve…”
He trails off, and the grimace he’s wearing is enough to complete the question for him. Similarly, James’ responding laugh is enough of an answer.
“You won’t like the answer.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“You asked!” James scoffs, but it does nothing to curb Sirius’ reaction, even if he has nothing else to say.
The expression of disgust is clear without him even meeting Regulus’ eyes, and he shudders, eyes falling shut before he leans back against Regulus again, arms firmly folded.
“You both make me sick,” he says finally.
Neither of them respond, and Sirius takes to getting comfortable, as always. The weight resting on him is a bit of comfort, even when he’s openly claiming just how angry he is. Seems like maybe it’ll blow over tomorrow—that he’s not quite that upset. Maybe just that he has half a mind to offer this sort of comfort, because it’s clear Regulus needs it.
It’s a bit before Sirius uncrosses his arms, hesitantly resting one hand in the space between his shoulder blades. After another minute he speaks, quietly.
“What’s up?” Regulus meets his eyes, which hold an odd sort of softness—of fondness—that he isn’t sure he’s seen in years. He doesn’t answer, though, because the reason seems weak, and now he has them both staring down at him as though they expect something. “He’s seen everything, Reg,” Sirius adds after a second. “I was a fucking wreck.”
“Yeah, you slept in my bed for months,” James shoots back, and Sirius only shrugs.
“It’s comfortable. You’re lucky I don’t still.”
James rolls his eyes in response, turning back to Regulus, squeezing his waist in what’s a clear prod to answer.
“Same thing, I guess,” he shrugs, trying to push down the anxiety that threatens to well up with his words. “Just… dark. Really quiet. Alone. Thought I’d like that all—and I do—just… not for two months straight, I guess.”
James nods in response.
“You don’t even really have to stay there anymore, if you don’t want. My bed’s roomy. We can keep a candle lit, or something, if you want.”
Sirius clicks his tongue again, and James’ smile returns at the clearly annoyed expression he’s wearing.
“Don’t push it,” he warns simply, and James tugs him a bit closer, one hand leaving his skin to playfully swat at Sirius.
“I think you’re handling this all better than I did,” Sirius admits after a minute, once James has settled again. “I was angry, and I hated them, and they hated me, but it was a lot of… unlearning and readjusting. If this is the worst of it, so far, I’d have to say I’m proud. Really.”
“You should’ve seen the holes he put in our wall,” James adds, leaning down to speak against Regulus’ ear, and Sirius whirls around to glare at him, halfway between offended and amused. “New fist-sized hole every week.”
“And I patched them all up, thank you!”
“Yeah, but you made me sit around and teach you how, and then listen to you apologize forty times over.”
“I was also fifteen, Prongs. I just didn’t know what to do, and I fucking hated being here, and I was scared every day that your parents would change their mind and I’d be right back at home. They didn’t particularly like me at first, y’know.”
“Again,” James starts, eyebrows raising to emphasize his point. “Holes in the wall.”
Sirius rolls his eyes, waving James off.
“Yeah, yeah, structural integrity, whatever.”
“Point is,” he continues, a bit louder as he turns to Regulus again. “You’re good here. If you need something, ask. We’re not judging, or anything.”
“You’re good after I beat your ass for this,” Sirius corrects, flicking his ear. “Can’t believe you two.”
“Can’t believe you and Remus are so fucking loud,” he responds promptly, to which James snorts and Sirius’ jaw drops open.
“I… may have forgotten where your room is.”
“I share a wall with your bed.”
Sirius clears his throat, trying to hide a small smile thats somewhere between embarrassed and amused.
“My bad.”
“Yeah, your bad. Fucking hell.”
“What’d you come in to ask, Pads?”
Both their gazes shift to James.
“Oh! My wand. I was gonna ask if you’ve seen it.”
“Again?” Sirius only shrugs in response, and James groans. Even Regulus has heard those words an incredible amount of times since he moved in—Merlin only knows how many times James has. “I’ll look in the morning.”
Sirius stands again, seeming to have still far too much energy for someone up this late. He always does, though.
“I’ll take that as my sign to leave.” Turning to face the bed, his eyes land on Regulus again. “Y’okay?”
He nods, and despite the clear reluctance in his skepticism, Sirius nods as well, heading towards the door and slipping out of the room. The silence hits him again, once the door clicks shut, but this time he has James.
This time, he doesn’t have to spend every second looking over his shoulder, double checking whether or not someone’s coming. His muscles relax, body seeming to melt against James, and he presses a small kiss to his neck.
“Night, love you.”
James hums, reaching over and pulling a blanket over them both. He’s wearing a content smile, maybe because Regulus has no plan of leaving. Maybe because this is the first time since James left Hogwarts that they’ve been able to fall asleep together.
One hand traces a bit further up the skin of his back, settling into a small path up his spine.
“Love you too.”
He’s been out of it since he woke up. Sure, better than he’d been last night, but still, he can barely seem to keep his eyes focused.
He’d woken up in James’ bed still, slipped from his grasp, and sat on the floor beside the bed. His legs keep blurring in front of him, and every time he refocuses his eyes on a specific object, it fades out after just a second. Everything feels like some sort of odd dream, and so he lets himself linger in it instead of fruitlessly attempting to pull himself from it.
It isn’t until a hand rests on his shoulder and he looks up to see James looming over him that he returns to his mind for a moment. He makes up some weak excuse that even James doesn’t seem to believe, but lets it go regardless. Even with James talking to him, running a hand through his hair, squeezing his shoulder, laughing in that same way he always does, Regulus can’t stop his mind from drifting.
Not to anything in particular—just letting his eyes blur as he stares down at his hands, not realizing he’s missed everything James said until he finishes talking.
Finally, he seems to truly catch on, and drags Regulus to the kitchen with him, silently working at brewing a pot of coffee before turning to face him. James’ hands take his, breaking his line of sight and forcing Regulus’ eyes to meet his when he brings their interlocked hands up, pressing a kiss to the back of one.
“I love you,” he says firmly, eyes locked on Regulus, who’s given no chance at a response before James’ hand leaves his, pulling his hair from his forehead to plant a kiss against his skin. He tugs him closer, arms wrapped around his neck, one hand pressed to his nape, holding him as close as he can manage.
“Love you too,” Regulus responds after a long minute, arms finding James’ waist with a heavy exhale. He buries himself there, forehead pressed into the crook of his neck, before adding, “sorry.”
“For what?”
“This. I don’t know what’s up today, I just… I can’t think straight.”
James’ hand holds him a bit tighter, shifting to kiss the top of his head, not pulling back when he responds.
“I don’t need an apology for that. You’re alright. Take your time.”
“It’s annoying,” he grumbles.
“I know,” James responds, as annoyingly understanding as always. “But you don’t owe me an explanation. We’ll get coffee, get back in bed, relax for a bit… Nothing to do, today.”
Regulus nods, but before he has a chance to speak, an exaggerated gag from the other side of the room draws his attention. Sirius, of course, eyeing the two of them from his spot in the doorway.
“Get the fuck away from him,” he gripes sleepily, and the corners of James’ lips curl up at the complaint.
“Okay,” he responds after a second, hands slowly unwinding from around him, stopping at the back of his neck to tug him a bit closer. His lips plant a firm kiss to Regulus’ forehead before he pulls back fully, returning to the now-quiet coffee maker.
He can’t help the small grin that meets his own lips as he watches James retreat. At the outright and immediate switch to open affection. He’d known it was coming, James never seemed to have reservations around Barty or Evan. Trusted they’d keep quiet, because they were in exactly the same position. But in front of Sirius feels so different, and the fact that he has the audacity to act shy about it now only amplifies his own fondness.
“How long have you been dating?”
He forces his gaze from James’ form, finding Sirius instead—a far less pleasant sight, he must add—his hair mussed with sleep, still wearing an unamused expression. Some mixture of tired and still annoyed with them, though he seems kinder when his eyes meet Regulus’.
“Two years,” James responds, almost immediately. “I think, at least.”
“Merlin.” His brows pinch together, shocked as his gaze flits between the two of them. “That long?”
James nods, turning to Regulus, a mug held in his hand.
“Black?”
“Hm?” It’s almost instinctual, and it takes a second of James’ unblinking stare, paired with the coffee in hand, for it to click. “Oh! Oh, just—yeah, black, thank you.”
The mug is passed to him, and James turns back to the counter, though Sirius’ eyes remain on him. Searching, almost, his head tilting to the side in a manner that’s entirely too canine.
“I haven’t seen you this happy in forever,” he says, more of an observation than something that would allow Regulus to agree. “Maybe ever, actually. Home didn’t allow for much of that.”
“Yeah,” he answers simply, staring down into his coffee when Sirius’ eyes refuse to relent, and silence settles over them for a moment.
“Are you happy?”
He hesitates. Not because it’s not true, or because he has to think about it, but because it’s Sirius asking. Because it feels so wrong to be telling Sirius, of all people, that he’s happy. That someone makes him happy. It feels raw, and part of him hates to answer, but after a second he nods. Still not looking him in the eye, but with a motion that couldn’t be mistaken as anything other than assent.
“Good.” Regulus chances a glance up, finding Sirius now with a mug held between his own hands. His eyes are still unwavering, and after a second he nods, as if to confirm he was heard right. “Good. I’m glad. You’ve needed something good.”
“And I’m great,” James chimes in with a grin, settling beside Regulus, his free arm wrapping around his shoulder and tugging him close again.
“Piss off.” Sirius rolls his eyes, and Regulus would love to echo, but finds himself leaning into the touch instead, head resting on his shoulder when it becomes too heavy to hold up himself. “I’m, uh, headed out for a bit. I think Moony’s coming over later, but other than that I’ll stay out of your way.”
It doesn’t sound sarcastic or bitten-out like most of his words—most of everything he’s said since last night. Rather, it sounds like an odd sort of permission, and his nod before turning and retreating back down the hall only confirms it.
“Love you!” James calls after him, which Sirius echoes.
In the silence, void of the coffee machine’s whirring and Sirius’ comments, James’ grip holds steady, and he relaxes. For the first time, maybe, since he moved in, he relaxes. Allows himself to ease into James’ touch, lets his eyes fall shut, focusing only on his fingers’ idle circles.