Archive of Our Own

Regulus waited patiently.

Well.

Patiently by Regulus Black standards, which meant there was still an iPad in his hands, several spreadsheets open across the screen, and enough data projections glowing back at him to make most people develop a headache.

Across from him, Karl the chauffeur, leaned comfortably against the driver's seat, occasionally glancing through the windscreen at the steady flow of people moving along the pavement beneath another relentlessly grey London sky.

It was, if one were being honest, a rather unusual sight. Particularly because Regulus Black had left his office at three o'clock in the afternoon.

On a Thursday. A Thursday.

The sort of detail that would likely concern several board members if they ever discovered it because usually, at this hour, he was still buried beneath reports, forecasts, acquisition summaries, and whatever fresh disaster someone in upper management had decided required immediate attention.

Most days, he barely noticed the time passing until Evan appeared in his office doorway wearing the expression of a man attempting to remind his employer that food and sleep were generally considered important.

Today, however, was different.

His collar was open. His right sleeve had been rolled carelessly to his elbow. His jacket had long since been abandoned somewhere in the back of the car. The only part of his usual uniform that remained untouched were his black socks, which felt less like a conscious fashion choice and more like evidence that he'd run out of time.

Not that he cared.

The view outside wasn't a skyline of glass towers anymore. It wasn't the main area skyline stretching endlessly beneath low clouds. It wasn't the familiar landscape of boardrooms and financial districts.

Instead, Regulus found himself staring at the front entrance of GQ's offices.

The building itself wasn't particularly impressive by Black family standards. The pavement outside was narrow. The lobby doors never seemed to close properly because people were constantly coming and going.

Journalists hurried in with coffees. Some people rushed out carrying garment bags. Someone appeared to be arguing with their phone whilst balancing three cardboard boxes.

Karl had parked in the designated VVIP space twelve minutes ago. Regulus had noticed every single one of them. Not because he cared about GQ. Because Remus was inside.

That was the problem, really.

Only Remus Lupin could convince Regulus Black to abandon work early and sit outside an office building like an eager teenager waiting after school.

Neither Karl nor Evan had managed to disguise their reactions when Regulus had mentioned, almost in passing, that he would be leaving early and collecting Remus himself after work.

The silence that followed had lingered for a beat too long to be accidental.

Evan had simply stared at him across the conference table, while Karl, who at least possessed the decency to appear amused rather than astonished, had raised a single eyebrow over the rim of his glasses.

Both responses, regrettably, had been justified.

The truly ridiculous part was that Remus had not even asked. There had been no inconvenient train delays, no scheduling conflict, no reason whatsoever for Regulus to insert himself into the situation. He had volunteered entirely of his own accord and, if he were being honest, with rather embarrassing enthusiasm.

After all, they were driving to West Oxfordshire afterwards. Collecting Remus directly from his schedule was simply practical. Efficient, even. It made considerably more sense than allowing him to travel all the way back to London only to turn around and leave again an hour later.

That was the explanation Regulus had provided, at any rate.

The fact that he had not seen Remus since breakfast and would quite like to remedy that as soon as possible was neither here nor there.

His phone vibrated.

The effect was immediate. Whatever report had occupied his attention a moment earlier ceased to exist as he reached for the device and glanced at the screen.

Re🖤

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he could stop it.

Hopeless, really.

Four months.

It had somehow been four months since a single post from Remus had detonated across the internet and transformed their relationship into public knowledge.

Four months since every social platform collectively lost its mind.

Four months since Evan had developed a permanent sigh whenever people attempted to turn business press releases into relationship interviews.

Four months later Dorcas and Evan continued informing them that they were still trending because, apparently, people remained very invested in the existence of Regulus Black and Remus Lupin.

Regulus wasn't entirely sure what anyone expected him to do with that information.

The more surprising thing was that he still hadn't posted anything himself. Which was absurd.

Because the original idea had been his.

Public acknowledgement had never frightened him. If anything, he'd been born with it.

He'd spent years carefully protecting their privacy. The idea of finally being allowed to love Remus openly had felt almost intoxicating.

Yet every time he considered making a post, nothing felt right.

A photograph felt insufficient. A caption felt inadequate. A press release felt ridiculous. The problem was simple: Regulus didn't merely want to announce that Remus existed. The whole bloody world already knew that. He wanted to say something bigger. Something truer. Something that properly communicated what Remus Lupin had become to him.

Unfortunately, there did not appear to be a suitable format for announcing that another human being had quietly become the centre of your universe.

So the post remained unwritten. Not that Remus seemed bothered. Quite the opposite.

The public reveal had produced consequences neither of them had anticipated.

For instance, Regulus now occasionally came home to find gifts waiting for him. Actual gifts. A fountain pen, a pocket notebook, a handmade pair of something embroidered with his initials.

Small things, thoughtful things. And according to his boyfriend, they came from the fans, or rather, his fans.

Evan and Barty had informed him of this fact with an enthusiasm that suggested they found the entire situation deeply entertaining.

Apparently a concerning percentage of Remus’ fanbase had become emotionally invested in him as well.

Their actual wording had been considerably less professional, and Regulus had elected not to repeat it.

He still wasn’t entirely certain what to do with the information. The feeling itself wasn’t unpleasant, merely unfamiliar.

People had always known who he was. That was hardly remarkable.

He was Regulus Black. The heir. The nepotism baby, according to certain newspapers. The terrifyingly wealthy aristocrat, according to others. Depending on the publication, he was either a relic of Britain’s class system or proof that it remained very much alive.

His name carried influence. His presence carried consequences. Doors opened before he reached them. Invitations arrived without needing to be requested.

That part was normal.

What wasn’t normal was affection without expectation.

Particularly from young people. Young people who seemed impossibly bright and earnest whenever Remus showed him things online.

People who left comments simply to wish them well, people who drew portraits, wrote letters, and sent gifts with no objective beyond kindness.

No networking opportunity, no favour to be collected later, no invisible ledger waiting to be balanced.

They expected absolutely nothing in return.

Regulus understood transactions. He understood obligations, favours, exchanges, and the quiet mathematics that governed nearly every relationship within the circles he had been raised to navigate.

Nothing was free. Everything carried weight. Everything carried consequences. At least, that was what he had spent most of his life believing.

Then Remus had wandered into his world and, with characteristic ease, introduced him to thousands of strangers who seemed determined to prove otherwise.

Now one of the tables in the studio was steadily disappearing beneath gifts addressed to him. Some carried his name in careful handwriting, others featured elaborate sketches tucked beneath ribbons or folded between envelopes. A few contained letters thick enough to suggest multiple pages.

He had not opened a single one. Not because he disliked them. Quite the opposite, truthfully, he wasn’t convinced they belonged to him.

Whenever he passed the room, he found himself slowing at the doorway, his gaze drifting towards the growing collection before moving on again. Sometimes he would linger for a moment, sometime longer.

But he never reached for anything.

Remus, unsurprisingly, never pushed. He never asked why. Never encouraged him, never left subtle hints in the hope of changing his mind.

Instead, one evening, as they settled beneath the duvet and the winter rain tapped softly against the bedroom windows, his love of life shifted closer and tucked himself against Regulus’ side with the ease of long habit.

“Take your time,” he murmured, his voice already heavy with sleep.

A small pause followed. “And if you never want to open them, that’s alright too. They’ll already be happy knowing it reached you.”

Regulus had spent the next several minutes staring at the ceiling in silence.

Because honestly? How was anyone supposed to compete with that? How did a person remain that kind?

How did someone continue believing the best of people after spending years under constant scrutiny?

After strangers dissected every mistake, every appearance, every relationship? After tabloids invented narratives and headlines chipped away at privacy one story at a time?

Regulus had watched fame consume people before. He had watched it leave them cynical, guarded, exhausted.

Yet somehow Remus remained stubbornly, infuriatingly soft in all the ways that mattered.

He still met people with open hands instead of clenched fists, and perhaps that was why so many of them loved him.

Regulus certainly understood the feeling.

His phone vibrated against his palm.

Re🖤

Have you arrived yet? I've just finished. Dorcas only just gave me my phone back.

Regulus read the message once, then again. Not because it required particular concentration, but because there was something absurdly pleasant about seeing Remus's name appear on his screen.

They had been apart for less than a working day. A perfectly reasonable amount of time, an amount of time normal people managed without issue.

Unfortunately, he had never claimed to be normal where Remus Lupin was concerned.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he began typing a reply. He’d managed precisely three words before a sudden burst of shouting from outside made him look up.

The pavement beyond the windscreen was no longer empty. People seemed to be materialising from every direction, converging towards the barriers in a steadily growing stream.

Someone carried a stack of books pressed tightly against their chest. Another held a framed photograph. Tote bags appeared in alarming quantities. Flowers, too. One person was waving what looked suspiciously like a knitted hat above their head.

Regulus frowned at it, the hat meant absolutely nothing to him. Which almost certainly meant it would make perfect sense to Remus.

More people arrived. Then more. The crowd swelled until the pavement was alive with movement and conversation, voices overlapping one another in excited bursts that carried even through the closed windows of the car.

“Master Remus is very well liked,” Karl’s voice broke through the noise.

Regulus glanced up from his phone. That felt rather like describing the Atlantic as slightly damp.

From where he sat, he could already see security adjusting their positions. Men and women in dark coats moved through the crowd with practised ease, creating clear paths towards the entrance and gently encouraging people back behind the barriers whenever enthusiasm threatened to overcome organisation.

Two settled themselves near the car, others remained closer to the building.

Someone had clearly informed them which vehicle Remus would be leaving in. Dorcas, perhaps or possibly Evan.

Regulus couldn’t quite care. At the moment, the detail felt considerably less important than the fact that Remus was somewhere inside that building and would eventually emerge through those doors.

It was, admittedly, an unusual perspective. 

Normally, he occupied the centre of this sort of operation: security appeared around him before events. Assistants guided him through crowds with almost military efficiency. Doors opened. Routes cleared. People stepped aside.

Rarely did he have the opportunity to sit quietly and observe the machinery working for someone else.

A shout erupted from somewhere to the left. “Remus!”

Several others immediately joined in. “REMUS!”

“Over here!”

The noise rolled across the pavement in waves, growing louder with every passing second.

Then the revolving doors turned because Dorcas Meadowes emerged first.

Regulus immediately felt a renewed appreciation for everything she did.

She looked exactly like someone responsible for managing one of the most recognisable actors in the country. An iPad was wedged beneath one arm alongside several folders and a collection of loose papers that appeared one strong gust of wind away from becoming somebody else’s problem. A tote bag hung from her shoulder. Remus’ glasses rested in one hand.

And unless Regulus was mistaken, there was a chocolate bar sticking out of her jeans pocket.

His chocolate bar.

His glasses.

His paperwork.

Frankly, Dorcas deserved a raise. The crowd surged forward at the sight of her. Not dangerously, simply with the sort of enthusiasm that accompanied any sighting of Remus Lupin.

Dorcas stopped without missing a step, one hand lifted. Nothing dramatic. Nothing particularly forceful. 

Yet years spent managing actors, journalists, producers, studio executives, and increasingly excitable members of the public had apparently granted her the ability to control large groups of people through sheer force of personality.

The crowd shuffled backwards. And then Remus appeared.

Regulus forgot what he had been doing. Not permanently, just long enough to become inconvenient.

He had no idea what his man had worn to the schedule. They hadn't discussed it that morning. Regulus had been occupied with meetings, and Remus had been occupied with making sure he actually ate breakfast instead of surviving exclusively on coffee.

Whatever expectations he might have had vanished immediately.

Because, God.

Nobody should have looked that good after a full day of work. Not objectively. Not fairly.

Yet there was Remus Lupin, proving once again that fairness had very little to do with anything.

It wasn't red-carpet perfection. It wasn't the polished version featured in magazines or photographed beneath award-show lighting. This was something else entirely.

This was the aftermath.

The slightly rumpled version that emerged after hours of interviews, conversations, cameras, and public attention. The version whose curls had clearly decided several hours ago that structure was a personal attack. The version who looked tired if you knew where to look, but somehow remained effortlessly composed regardless.

His black tailored trousers fit perfectly. The charcoal jumper softened the sharpness of his frame, the collar sat slightly uneven, as though he'd pulled it on in a hurry. A black Jacquemus tote bag rested against one shoulder.

The entire look should have been unremarkable. Instead, Regulus found himself staring.

Again.

Honestly, this was becoming embarrassing.

The moment Remus stepped outside, flashes erupted from every direction. Cameras clicked. Voices rose. The crowd surged forward.

And the very first thing Remus did was stop beside someone using a wheelchair. Without hesitation, he crouched until they were eye level. He didn't appear concerned about his trousers. Or the pavement, or the schedule, or the dozens of cameras pointed directly at him.

For several moments, the rest of the crowd seemed to disappear. Remus simply listened, properly listened.

The way he always did. Like the person standing in front of him was the most important thing in the world.

Regulus watched the interaction unfold and felt that familiar ache settle somewhere behind his ribs.

There it was again.

That thing. That impossible ability Remus possessed to make people feel seen. Not noticed. 

Seen.

Yes, the distinction mattered. Perhaps that was why people loved him so much, that was why Regulus loved him so much.

Eventually, Remus continued moving towards the car, though moving felt like an optimistic description of what was happening because every few steps someone asked for a photograph. Then a signature. Then another photograph. Then another conversation. Gifts appeared from seemingly nowhere and were accepted with visible care before disappearing into the tote bag hanging from his shoulder.

His expressions shifted constantly. One moment he was smiling. The next he looked thoughtful, and then so sweet, delighted. Then openly surprised by something a fan had said.

At one point his eyebrows lifted so high that Regulus nearly laughed. Whatever he'd just heard had clearly caught him off guard. His eyes looked warmer in the daylight, the amber tones more noticeable than usual.

Regulus found himself wondering what had been said, then wondering why he cared, then immediately answering his own question.

Because it was Remus, and that was usually enough explanation.

By the time Dorcas finally reached the car, she looked like a woman who had personally survived a small-scale natural disaster.

Karl opened the door without being asked. Dorcas well… keeping the distance, directly opposite Regulus, considering he had spent the last several minutes sitting sideways in his seat like a man who had entirely forgotten how dignity worked whenever Remus Lupin was involved.

"Hello, Black." Dorcas greeted him easily as she deposited an impressive collection of items onto the empty seat beside him.

Remus's glasses landed first, followed by the chocolate bar, several sheets of paper, two books, and finally a dark green box that Regulus was reasonably certain hadn't been there this morning.

"Meadowes."

Dorcas hummed in acknowledgement and immediately began searching through the depths of her tote bag with the concentration of an archaeologist uncovering a lost civilisation.

Regulus watched the process with mild curiosity, he had always liked Dorcas Meadowes.

Not in the sense that they were particularly close. They weren't. Even after years of existing within the same orbit, they still addressed each other exclusively by their surnames, as though neither of them had received permission to progress beyond that point. Somehow, it worked. More importantly, Dorcas treated him like a person.

A surprisingly rare experience, because far too many people became painfully formal the moment they learned his surname. Others swung in the opposite direction and attempted familiarity so aggressively that it became equally exhausting.

Dorcas did neither. She had looked at Regulus Black, heir to an ancient fortune, and decided he was simply another mildly inconvenient person she occasionally had to deal with.

It was refreshing.

"Bored?"

The question came whilst she continued rummaging through her bag without looking at him.

Regulus glanced through the windscreen towards the crowd still gathered outside.

"No."

Dorcas snorted. "Black."

"Waiting for him has never bored me." The words left his mouth before he considered them.

She immediately stopped moving. Slowly, she lifted her head. Their eyes met. For about three seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then she closed her eyes. Actually closed her eyes. "Oh, Black."

The sigh that followed sounded deeply tired. "You really are in love with him, aren't you?"

Regulus felt amusement tug at the corner of his mouth. "Is this new information?"

"No."

"Then why do you sound surprised?"

"I'm not surprised." Dorcas pointed accusingly at him, "I'm exhausted."

Regulus laughed quietly.

Dorcas shook her head, still muttering something beneath her breath about hopeless men before turning her attention back towards the entrance.

The crowd suddenly shifted, a ripple moved through it. Then a flash erupted. Another followed. And then Remus appeared.

Everything else immediately became less interesting.

Regulus wasn't entirely certain when he'd developed the ability to identify Remus within seconds, regardless of crowd size, weather conditions, or general chaos.

The skill exists now. He had accepted it.

Remus paused a second as their eyes met, offering another smile towards him. It was a small smile. Soft, private.

The kind Regulus recognised instantly. The same smile that had greeted him that morning across their kitchen table. The same smile that appeared when Remus was sleepy. The same smile that occasionally surfaced when he thought nobody was looking. The same smile that somehow still managed to make Regulus's chest feel strange after all these years.

Before he could decide whether to defend himself, Remus was already moving towards the car.

The crowd surged forward again. Security moved with practiced efficiency. So did Dorcas. The door opened wider, and Remus slipped inside with the ease of someone who had performed this exact manoeuvre hundreds of times before, immediately shifting the collection of belongings Dorcas had abandoned on the seat.

His smile never disappeared. Neither did Regulus's ability to think coherently.

"Remus, sign this!" The request arrived from nowhere.

A book and pen suddenly appeared through the open door.

Dorcas groaned, security groaned. Karl visibly reconsidered several life choices.

Remus, meanwhile, accepted both items without the slightest hesitation.

Of course he did. 

"And what's your name?" he asked warmly, already writing the first page.

"Helen. I've been a fan since you played..."

The sentence stopped abruptly.

Helen blinked. 

Once.

Twice.

Then her eyes shifted from Remus to Regulus, back to Remus, then to Regulus again. The realisation arrived with almost comical speed.

"Oh my God."

Remus paused. Dorcas paused. Even he felt mildly concerned.

"YOU'RE REGULUS BLACK!"

Ah yes.

The declaration echoed across the pavement. It wasn't a question, it wasn't uncertainty. It was pure, unfiltered astonishment. The sort that happened when two pieces of information finally connected inside someone's head.

Because yes, Regulus Black was sitting inside the vehicle. 

The Regulus Black. The elusive one. The one whose arrivals and departures remained mysteriously undocumented despite half the country's fascination with him.

The one who somehow managed to avoid photographers unless he actively wanted to be photographed.

The one generally found inside office buildings, historical estates, luxury hotels, investment conferences, or properties bearing his surname.

Not outside GQ at three in the afternoon on a Thursday. Waiting to collect his boyfriend.

The crowd reacted immediately, several heads turned. Then several more. The flashes intensified. Questions began flying from every direction.

People stretched upwards, attempting to see through the windows.

For one brief moment, Regulus considered the possibility that he had accidentally become the most interesting thing happening outside GQ.

A horrifying thought.

Fortunately, Dorcas was already taking control. "Well, yes, Helen, that is Regulus Black." She smoothly removed the book and pen from Remus's hands before the situation could deteriorate further.

"Thank you for coming. Thank you for supporting him. We'll see you next time."

The book was returned. Helen accepted it whilst continuing to stare at Regulus as though she'd accidentally discovered a rare species in central London.

Dorcas gently encouraged her backwards. Security assisted. The door finally shut.

"Go."

Karl nodded once. The black sleek car pulled away from the pavement with practiced smoothness, merging neatly into the early-afternoon traffic before the crowd could reorganise itself around them.

Through the tinted windows, flashes still sparked intermittently against the grey London sky, people continued waving, some attempted photographs, others pointed excitedly towards the car.

For several moments, the scene remained visible in the mirrors.

Regulus watched as Dorcas immediately fell back into work mode. She was already speaking to two members of security whilst walking towards her own waiting vehicle, one hand occupied by her phone, the other gesturing towards something near the entrance.

The crowd gradually swallowed the scene behind them. Buildings replaced faces. Traffic lights interrupted the view.

Then London carried them forward. The noise faded first. The shouting became muffled. The flashes disappeared.

The excitement outside dissolved into passing streets, rows of shops, familiar junctions and endless streams of traffic moving through the city.

What remained was the quiet inside the car, a familiar quiet, the sort that settled naturally between people who no longer needed to fill every silence.

"Hi," Remus spoke first.

Regulus shifted slightly, finally turning properly towards him.

And there he was. Not Remus Lupin the actor, not Remus Lupin the public figure, not the man who had spent the past hour smiling for cameras and making complete strangers feel important.

Just Remus, his Remus.

The thought arrived so naturally that Regulus barely noticed it anymore. He smiled, what else was he supposed to do?

Because years later, this man still possessed the remarkable ability to reduce his thoughts to something embarrassingly simple.

He extended a hand, and Remus took the invitation immediately.

"Hello," The word emerged softer than intended as Remus folded himself into his space without hesitation.

One moment there was distance between them. The next, Regulus found himself surrounded by warmth, familiar cologne, and the unmistakable comfort that always seemed to arrive with Remus. His boyfriend sighed contentedly against his shoulder.

Regulus felt himself relax in response.

Remus had that effect on him, always had. A kiss landed against his cheek. Then another. Then one against his hair.

The affection arrived so casually that it might have seemed ordinary to anyone else. It never felt ordinary to Regulus.

He felt Remus pull them closer until their shoulders and legs pressed comfortably together. The embrace carried none of the urgency from the crowd outside, there was no performance here, no cameras, no audience.

Just the quiet relief of being close again.

Remus was warm, always warm even after long days, even after interviews and meetings and endless conversations.

Somehow, he still felt like the safest place Regulus had ever known.

And the car continued its journey through London whilst they sat together, exchanging nothing more than the comfort of shared space and the simple reassurance that the other was there.

Eventually, Remus drew back slightly. Not far, just enough.

One hand settled against Regulus's side whilst the other rose to cradle his face with familiar tenderness.

Remus’s thumb brushed lightly across his cheek. "I missed you." The confession arrived quietly, as though they were discussing something private despite being entirely alone.

Regulus closed his eyes briefly, leaning instinctively into the touch. "I know."

A laugh escaped Remus: soft and fond, the sort of laugh that always seemed directed specifically at him.

Then came another kiss. Regulus accepted it without resistance. He always did. Remus kissed exactly the way he lived: soft, patiently, with complete attention.

There was nothing hurried about it. Nothing demanding. No urgency beyond the simple desire to remain close for a little longer.

And him? He had long since stopped pretending those kisses didn't affect him. Something warm and ridiculous unfurled inside his chest every single time.

Because of course, years later, his body remained stubbornly incapable of treating them as routine.

"I love you,” Remus murmured the words against the corner of his mouth before pressing another kiss.

Regulus smiled helplessly, again. At this point, he was beginning to suspect Remus could weaponise affection if he ever chose to. "Je t'aime aussi, mon amour." The French emerged automatically, natural as breathing, soft as loving him.

When Regulus finally opened his eyes, Remus was still there, impossibly close. Those beautiful eyes caught the fading light spilling through the windows. His curls remained slightly untidy from the wind.

There was a faint crease near one eyebrow that suggested his boyfriend was already thinking about something.

He wondered what it was.

Then remembered he could simply ask. One of the many benefits of dating the person occupying your thoughts. "How was the shoot?"

Remus groaned immediately, and it made him laugh. "Oh, that's a bad sign."

"It lasted two hours longer than scheduled."

"That sounds like your fault."

"It was absolutely my fault."

"I thought so."

Remus smiled, so he smiled back.

Outside, the city lights gradually gave way to wider roads and greener views. Buildings became less frequent, traffic thinned, the city slowly loosened its grip around them as they travelled west towards Oxfordshire.

Inside the car, however, Remus's hand remained tangled with his.

Their shoulders continued touching, conversation drifted easily from interviews to work, from Dorcas's latest complaints to Sirius's increasingly chaotic group chat messages.

Remus was the first to break the comfortable silence. "You know what today's interview was about?"

Regulus glanced towards him. "No."

A grin appeared immediately. "It was called Ten Things Actor Remus Lupin Can't Live Without."

Regulus groaned, "oh, no."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I can already tell this is going to be ridiculous."

Remus looked offended, for approximately half a second. Then he laughed. "It wasn't ridiculous."

"It absolutely was."

"It wasn't."

"It involved cameras and you talking about objects you love."

"Yes,” his boyfriend agrees.

"Which means you definitely became emotionally attached to at least one inanimate object."

Remus pointed at him, “that's rich coming from the man who names his pens."

Regulus considered arguing. Unfortunately, Remus was correct, “I named two."

"You named more."

"Only because they deserved names."

Remus's laughter filled the car.

God. Regulus loved that sound. “What were the ten things?" he asked.

"Most of them were brought by Dorcas."

"Poor woman."

"She's very brave."

"She's underpaid."

"She's absolutely underpaid."

Remus shifted slightly, pulling one leg beneath himself, "my glasses were one of them."

"The ones you're always losing?"

"I don't lose them."

"You absolutely lose them."

"They migrate."

He stared at him while Remus maintained a perfectly serious expression. "They migrate."

"Remarkable."

"I know."

The glasses had, in fact, been a gift from him several years earlier. Custom-made, lightweight, durable enough to survive being repeatedly abandoned around film sets and hotel rooms.

Remus continued counting on his fingers. "The notebook Mum makes for me every year."

That one didn't surprise him. Hope Lupin's notebooks are beautiful, handmade, stitched by love, filled with thick cream paper and tiny details most people never noticed.

"And?"

"The pouch."

Regulus blinked, "the green one?"

Remus nodded, "the dark green one your mother gave me years ago."

For a moment Regulus simply stared at him, "the pouch."

"The pouch."

"The one that's currently held together by determination and emotional attachment?"

Remus gasped, "it is not."

"It absolutely is."

"It works perfectly."

"It has glitter falling off."

"It has character."

Regulus laughed despite himself. Then, before he could stop himself, he lifted Remus's hand and pressed a kiss against his knuckles.

Remus immediately smiled. The soft, dangerous one. The one capable of dismantling years of emotional restraint.

"You kept it."

"Of course I kept it. Walburga gave it to me."

As though that explained everything.

Perhaps it did because Remus collected people the way other people collected treasures. Not because of what they could give him. Because they mattered.

The conversation drifted naturally afterwards. Remus asked about work. Not politely, not because he felt obligated. Genuinely. The distinction mattered. "So?"

He asked, "how was Zurich?"

Regulus settled further into his seat. "We're still on schedule for the hotel opening."

"Yeah?"

“Hm.”

"I still think it sounds obscenely expensive."

"It is obscenely expensive."

"Good."

Regulus smiled, "we’re also ending a partnership."

Remus immediately looked interested, “which one?"

"The consultancy group handling part of the sustainability strategy."

"What happened?"

"Our goals stopped aligning."

"Corporate answer."

Regulus laughed, “it is the answer."

"Regulus."

He sighed, "their version of sustainability involved making promises they couldn't actually fulfil."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

Remus frowned, "so they wanted the marketing without doing the work."

"Essentially."

"That's annoying."

"It was."

"And expensive?"

"Very."

"That's more annoying."

"Correct."

The discussion continued easily from there: Remus asked questions, follow-up questions, thoughtful questions. The sort that made Regulus realise, not for the first time, how rare it was to feel genuinely listened to.

Most people listened whilst waiting for their turn to speak. Remus listened because he wanted to understand. There was a difference.

Eventually the conversation shifted towards future plans.

"I'm thinking about Asia next,” that definitely earned Remus’s full attention.

"Oh?"

"There are several projects worth looking into."

"Where?"

“Singapore, perhaps. South Korea, Japan is also a possibility.”

Remus hummed thoughtfully, turning the information over in his head. “I’ve heard there’s been a huge push in technology and AI development across parts of the region. Investment too.”

“Yeah? I’ve spent the better part of a year researching markets, connectings. At some point, I realised I’d rather see it for myself than continue reading reports from here.”

That seemed to catch Remus’ interest entirely, his eyes lifted to meet him, “Tell me more,” he said that made him find himself explaining market trends, technology investment, emerging partnerships and long-term opportunities. 

At some point he realised he'd been talking for nearly ten minutes. Remus was still listening. Still interested. Still asking questions.

His thumb occasionally brushed against the back of Regulus's hand.

The simple gesture somehow made it easier to keep talking. Eventually Sirius entered the conversation. As Sirius inevitably did.

"He called me yesterday."

Regulus groaned, “a terrible start already."

"He asked what we thought about him and James going public."

That immediately got his attention, "oh?"

Remus nodded, "apparently James is feeling more comfortable about it now."

"That makes sense."

"The man is insufferably happy."

"He was insufferably happy before."

"True."

Remus laughed. Then his expression softened. "Sirius is still nervous."

Regulus wasn't surprised, “Sirius is always nervous."

"He thinks it'll change things."

"He thinks everything changes things."

Remus considered that. "Fair."

"Sirius only needs a push."

"A gentle push?"

"No."

His boyfriend started laughing before he even finished speaking. "A proper push."

"There he is."

"Sirius has a tendency to drown in his own dramatic tendencies."

"Yeah, that’s him.” 

The conversation moved naturally towards Sirius's newest film. Apparently he wanted Remus involved. Again.

"You haven't said yes?" He found himself really curious about it.

"I haven't even finished reading the script."

"That sounds responsible."

"I know, I hate it."

Regulus smiled, “would this be your second project together?"

Remus looked horrified, “second?"

"Third?"

"Fourth, actually."

Regulus blinked. "What?"

The man looked far too pleased with himself, "two films and one advert."

"And potentially this one."

"And potentially this one."

Regulus stared at him. "I genuinely didn't know that.”

"I know," the answer contained absolutely no judgement, only amusement.

The truth was simple: Regulus didn't watch every project he made and Remus didn't follow every acquisition, merger, investment strategy, or hotel development he worked on.

Trust had long since replaced the need for constant involvement. They shared what mattered, the rest could wait until dinner.

By the time they crossed into Oxfordshire, the daylight had begun to fade completely. The roads were darker now, winding through stretches of countryside illuminated only by passing headlights and the occasional village glowing softly in the distance.

The conversation grew quieter, slower, and more comfortable. Eventually Remus shifted closer, then closer again until he was practically draped across Regulus's side.

"You know, you look tired."

"So do you."

"Fair."

A moment later Remus tugged him closer and wrapped both arms around him. Regulus went willingly, as always.

The warmth returned immediately, the familiar comfort, the steady rise and fall of Remus's breathing.

Neither of them spoke again. Then everything faded softly into warmth.

The sleep arrived, the sort that settled over him in layers, made heavier by the steady rise and fall of Remus's breathing, by familiar hands absent-mindedly tracing patterns against his arm, by the knowledge that for the next days there would be no meetings, no reports, no endless procession of people requiring something from him.

Only Remus.

The next thing Regulus became aware of was a kiss.

Then another.

Then several more.

Small, persistent kisses pressed across his temple, his cheek, the corner of his jaw.

Regulus responded by burying his face further into Remus's chest.

A perfectly reasonable solution.

The jumper had disappeared at some point during the journey, leaving only a black t-shirt stretched across warm skin.

Somehow, whilst asleep, Regulus had also managed to slide one hand beneath the fabric. His palm rested lazily against Remus's stomach, moving only occasionally as though even his hand had decided it couldn't be bothered waking up properly.

"We are here, baby." Remus's voice arrived alongside another kiss.

Still half asleep, Regulus tightened his hold instead. The embrace around him immediately tightened in return.

Only then did he notice the absence of movement.

The car wasn't moving. The engine remained running, but they were no longer travelling. There was no gentle sway beneath them. No passing headlights beyond the windows.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and found Remus was looking down at him. Far too close. Not that Regulus was complaining.

His curls had become even more unruly after sleeping, his glasses were missing. There was still the faint imprint of exhaustion around his eyes despite the soft smile currently aimed directly at him.

Regulus glanced past him, the driver's seat was empty, Karl had vanished entirely.

Of course he had. The traitor.

No doubt he was currently standing somewhere outside pretending not to notice that his boss had spent the last portion of the journey practically asleep in his boyfriend's lap.

"Five more minutes,” his voice sounded rough with sleep.

To emphasise the point, he leaned forward and kissed Remus.

Remus laughed softly against his mouth. The sound vibrated through his chest.

Their position was, admittedly, ridiculous. At some point during the journey Regulus had ended up half sprawled across Remus. One of his legs remained awkwardly folded on his own seat whilst the rest of him occupied far too much of Remus's personal space. Not that either of them appeared concerned by that fact.

Remus's arms remained securely wrapped around his waist.

Their chests rested close enough together that Regulus could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Comforting, familiar. Home.

"We've been sitting here for nearly twenty minutes, love."

Remus said the words with entirely too much logic for someone who was still refusing to let go.

Regulus narrowed his eyes, because what? “I don't care."

"Yes, I've noticed."

"I think we should stay."

"In the car?"

"Forever."

Remus's smile widened, “a bold plan."

"It's a good plan."

"It's a terrible plan."

Regulus settled more comfortably against him. "Then why haven't you moved?"

That earned him a laugh. A proper one this time. "Because," Remus replied patiently, "I happen to know there's a perfectly comfortable bedroom waiting for us upstairs."

Regulus immediately looked up, Remus's expression turned unbearably smug.

“Oh, that's unfair."

"Is it?"

"You know exactly what you're doing."

"I have absolutely no idea what you mean."

Liar. Beautiful liar. The worst part was that it worked. It always worked.

The promise of privacy, warmth, soft sheets, and uninterrupted time with Remus Lupin had motivated Regulus through considerably worse circumstances than this.

"Promise?" he asked.

The smugness disappeared immediately, something softer replaced it. Remus leaned forward, pressing his face briefly into Regulus's hair. "I promise, baby."

The words arrived warm against his forehead. 

"Come on. Up we get. Then we can both rest properly."

Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be persuaded. A tremendous sacrifice on his part. He shifted backwards and immediately noticed the state of his clothes. His shirt was creased beyond saving. The collar sat unevenly. Anyone with functioning eyesight would be able to identify that he had spent the journey asleep.

Opposite him, Remus reached for his glasses.

Regulus looked between the glasses, the missing jumper, and their collective appearance.

"Sirius is going to be unbearable."

Remus followed his gaze. Then looked at their clothes. Then looked back at him. "Let him."

"Said by a man who won't be trapped listening to him for forty-five minutes."

"When has Sirius ever only spoken for forty-five minutes?"

"Good point."

"I thought so."

Remus slid his glasses back on and opened the door.

Cool evening air immediately drifted inside.

Before stepping away, he turned and extended a hand towards him. Simple, familiar, instinctive and he? Regulus took it without hesitation.

Outside, the grounds of Souveraine Manor stretched beneath the evening sky, lights glowing warmly from the windows in the distance.

Somewhere beyond the entrance, voices drifted faintly through the air.

Family. Chaos. Almost certainly the Blacks.

Karl was already collecting their belongings from the boot, "thank you, Karl." Remus's voice carried easily through the quiet evening.

"Could you send everything straight to our room?"

"Of course, Master Remus."

Their fingers remained intertwined as they began walking towards the manor. Neither of them let go. Neither of them appeared particularly interested in doing so.

The grounds of Souveraine stretched around them beneath the fading light, the manor itself glowing warmly against the darkening sky. Hundreds of windows reflected gold across the stone façade. The fountains had already been illuminated, and somewhere beyond the gardens Regulus could hear distant laughter drifting through the open grounds.

They hadn't even reached the front steps before he noticed something. "You seem remarkably enthusiastic for someone who originally didn't want to come."

Remus glanced sideways at him, "that’s rich coming from you."

Regulus frowned, "it is not."

"It absolutely is."

They reached the entrance just as two members of staff stepped forward to open the doors.

"Welcome to Souveraine, Master Regulus. Master Remus."

The greeting was met with polite smiles from both of them.

Years ago, Remus would have immediately protested, “no, please, just Remus.” He had tried that countless times during his first visits.

The staff had ignored him every single time. Eventually, he accepted defeat. A wise decision.

Because battles simply could not be won against generations of Black household traditions.

"I'm serious," Regulus continued as they stepped into the foyer. "You were the one who didn't want to come."

"Only because I wanted to spend my days off with you."

"You spend every day with me."

"Exactly."

The answer was delivered with such certainty that Regulus felt something warm settle pleasantly in his chest. Ridiculous.

Three years together and Remus still managed to do that. 

The truth was that neither of them had been particularly enthusiastic when the idea first appeared.

It had started several weeks earlier during dinner. Alphard, naturally, because every family inconvenience somehow began with Alphard.

The suggestion had arrived halfway through dessert whilst Lyall Lupin happened to be visiting after a business trip to Germany.

Apparently, Alphard had decided that because a surprising number of schedules aligned during the third week of autumn, it would be nice to organise a family dinner.

Nice. A deeply suspicious word.

Especially when it came from Alphard Black.

The last family gathering had taken place nearly six months earlier at Blackhaven Manor, where Pollux and Melania still preferred to spend most of their time.

According to Alphard, that was far too long.

According to everyone else, six months sounded perfectly reasonable.

Unfortunately, Orion Black had immediately approved the idea. The former head of the family hadn't even paused to consider it. "Since we're already hosting the charity gala that weekend, we may as well do it at Souveraine."

Simple. Decisive. Entirely unhelpful.

Regulus remembered clearing his throat. "I don't believe everyone has the same schedule."

The statement had been directed primarily towards the room.

But in reality, he had been watching Remus. More specifically, the way his boyfriend had suddenly become fascinated by his wine.

Never a good sign.

"Oh, don't worry," Alphard had waved a hand dismissively. "I've already checked."

Regulus immediately disliked where this was going.

"I spoke to Rosier. You only have a handful of meetings that week, all of which can be moved."

That had been irritating enough. Then Alphard smiled, "and Dorcas Meadowes informed me that Remus specifically requested time off to rest. What better way to rest than spending time with family?"

The silence that followed had been immediate.

Regulus remembered exchanging a look with him. Neither of them had been particularly pleased. The schedule issue itself was manageable.

The fact that Alphard had somehow acquired both of their schedules was considerably less so. Because really? What exactly were Evan and Dorcas doing?

Their loyalty was supposed to belong to him and Remus. Not whichever Black family member happened to ask first.

Granted, Alphard Black possessed a remarkable ability to acquire information from almost anyone.

Still. The principle mattered.

Unfortunately, things only became worse. Because Lyall Lupin, who should have been the reasonable one in the room, had immediately supported the idea. "Sounds lovely," he'd said. "Hope will be delighted. She always enjoys visiting Souveraine, and it'll be nice seeing everyone."

Traitor.

The dinner had ended with both Regulus and Remus politely declining involvement in any further planning.

Regulus had been annoyed, Remus had wanted to spend his holiday at home.

The matter should have ended there.

It did not.

Because four days later, Hope Lupin called. The memory remained painfully vivid.

Regulus had been midway through a meeting involving several billion pounds and three increasingly anxious executives when his phone lit up with Hope's name.

Naturally, the meeting stopped immediately. He wasn't an idiot, one did not ignore Hope Lupin. Particularly not when she rarely called without reason.

As it turned out, the reason was a scarf. Not an emergency, not a crisis. A scarf.

Hope had cheerfully informed him that she was making one for him and wanted to know whether he had any preferred colours before she started.

That was all. That was the entire conversation.

By the time the call ended, Regulus distinctly remembered gripping the arm of his chair because he had absolutely no idea what to do with the conflicting emotions currently attacking him.

He was touched. Deeply touched.

Hope always did things like that.

Every visit seemed to arrive with some handmade gift, some carefully chosen item, some small gesture that suggested she'd been thinking about him when he wasn't there.

Three years later, he still didn't quite know how to respond to that sort of affection.

He was also genuinely excited. It had been months since he'd last seen her.

Months since she'd filled an entire room with her impossible energy and somehow convinced half the family to participate in whatever project currently occupied her attention.

And, annoyingly, he was still irritated.

Irritated that he had no desire to attend the gathering. Irritated that a conversation about a scarf had somehow improved his mood. Irritated that despite sitting in a meeting worth billions, the most important thing that had happened that afternoon was Hope Lupin asking whether he preferred green or blue.

The memory still made him sigh. Because unfortunately the truly irritating part was that the phone call had worked.

Because despite all his complaints, Hope Lupin had somehow managed to say yes and make him look forward to the gathering with nothing more than a conversation about a scarf.

A scarf.

Regulus still found the entire situation mildly humiliating.

The worst part was that Remus had noticed immediately.

He remembered arriving home that evening to find his boyfriend curled up on the sofa with a book and a blanket. The moment Regulus had stepped through the door, he had lowered the book, taken one look at him, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"You agreed, didn't you?"

Regulus had attempted dignity. It lasted approximately three seconds. The resulting argument had been brief because Remus had spent most of it laughing.

The following days were largely occupied by Regulus attempting to convince him that the dinner wouldn't be overwhelming. That this wasn't a charity gala or one of the larger Black events with hundreds of guests, endless speeches, and enough crystal chandeliers to blind unsuspecting visitors.

It was family. Just family. Well…..Black family. Which admittedly was not always reassuring.

Still, Alphard had informed them that Sirius and the Potters would be joining as well, which significantly improved matters. The promise of James Potter's presence alone reduced the likelihood of excessive formality by at least fifty percent.

Eventually, two days ago, Remus had finally agreed.

Looking at him now, Regulus suspected he'd been far less reluctant than he'd originally claimed. The evidence was currently waving enthusiastically from across the room.

"Regulus." Andromeda reached him first. She wrapped him in a brief embrace before pressing a kiss against each cheek in greeting.

"Meda,” he smiled despite himself.

"It's good to see you."

"You too."

She stepped back. Her smile looked exactly the same as it had six months ago. Some things never changed.

"Where's your husband?"

The woman rolled her eyes affectionately. "Turkey. Business trip. He's been there nearly a week."

"Unfortunate timing."

"Tell me about it."

Regulus glanced around the room. The manor had already begun filling with familiar faces. Near one of the sitting areas, Cygnus appeared to be conducting business through his phone despite technically being off duty. Druella sat beside him, looking deeply unimpressed by whatever conversation he was currently having.

Across the room, Narcissa and Malfoy seemed to be discussing something with two members of staff, both wearing the expressions of people attempting to improve a situation that was already perfectly acceptable.

"Bellatrix arrived earlier," Andromeda said, following his gaze. "She and Rabastan went for a walk."

Of course they had. Bellatrix rarely entered a room quietly. Even when she wasn't in it.

Regulus nodded. "Then I suppose everyone's here."

"Almost."

“And where’s the old man?"

Andromeda immediately laughed, “the study room."

Regulus stopped walking, “the study."

"With Orion and Alphard."

"Oh."

The realisation settled immediately. "That's a terrible combination."

"It truly is."

Neither of them wanted to speculate further because whatever was currently happening inside that room would almost certainly become everyone else's problem eventually.

"Oi!" A familiar voice echoed through the walls.

Regulus closed his eyes briefly. There it was.

"I am your older brother. Why haven't you greeted me first?"

Andromeda's laughter immediately doubled.

Regulus turned, "Sirius."

His brother looked personally offended. A remarkable achievement considering they'd spoken less than seventy-two hours earlier.

Nearby, James had already draped an arm around Remus's shoulders despite the clear difference in their height. Somehow, the arrangement appeared perfectly natural.

Then again, James Potter possessed the unique ability to behave as though every room belonged to him.

Sirius marched forward dramatically. Regulus recognised the warning signs immediately. 

Too late.

The hug arrived. Violently. 

"Honestly, Reggie," Sirius tightened his hold. "We haven't seen each other in ages."

Regulus attempted to push him away.

The attempt failed. Mostly because Sirius was enjoying himself.

"Three days ago, Pads." Remus's voice arrived from somewhere beside James. "We had dinner at ours three days ago."

Sirius immediately released him and Regulus took advantage of his freedom by moving directly towards Remus as fast as possible.

The next, Remus was standing at his side and one familiar hand had settled against the small of his back.

Comforting. Instinctive. Home.

"Technically," Regulus said, "they forced their way into our house."

James laughed. The sound echoed through the foyer. "Regulus never changes."

"No."

Sirius looked delighted, "he genuinely doesn't."

Regulus chose not to dignify that with a response. Instead, he watched as Remus stepped forward to greet Andromeda.

The hug was immediate, warm, effortless, and entirely expected.

Andromeda smiled before Remus had even reached her. His boyfriend smiled back.

For a brief moment, Regulus found himself observing the scene rather than participating in it.

The easy familiarity. The affection. The complete absence of awkwardness.

Three years ago, none of this would have existed.

Now Andromeda greeted Remus exactly the same way she greeted him.

The thought settled somewhere warm inside his chest.

Beside him, Sirius followed his gaze. Then smirked, dangerous. Always dangerous.

"You're doing it again."

Regulus frowned, “do what?"

"That look."

"What look?"

"The one where you stare at Moony like you've personally discovered happiness."

Regulus considered several responses.

Unfortunately, Sirius continued speaking before he could choose one. "It's disgusting."

James nodded immediately, “deeply disgusting."

Neither of them sounded remotely sincere.

Regulus glanced towards Remus again. The love of his life was laughing at something Andromeda had just said, completely unaware of the discussion taking place several feet away.

A familiar warmth settled in his chest. Then, because Sirius occasionally deserved to suffer, Regulus looked directly at him and replied, "you’re right."

The silence that followed was magnificent: James looked horrified and Sirius looked even worse.

And for perhaps the first time in his life, Regulus Black discovered that openly agreeing was significantly more effective than denial.

Then Narcissa is already making her way across the room alongside Lucius Malfoy.

Regulus noticed them immediately, she looked good with her black midi dress while her husband, Malfoy looked exactly the same as he always did. His blond hair remained immaculately arranged. His suit was perfectly tailored. Not a single element appeared out of place.

Regulus still found him profoundly boring. To this day, he did not entirely understand what Narcissa saw in him.

Then again, he supposed the same argument could be made for Bellatrix choosing Rabastan Lestrange despite receiving enough marriage offers to populate a small country.

At least Andromeda's choice had made sense. Ted Tonks was intelligent, charismatic, and capable of matching her in conversation. They challenged each other. They understood each other.

Narcissa and Lucius, meanwhile, remained one of life's enduring mysteries.

Perhaps love truly was irrational. The thought was deeply inconvenient, particularly because Regulus knew from personal experience that it was probably true.

"You look nice, Narcissa."

His cousin smiled. "Thank you, Regulus. It's been far too long."

It hadn't. But she seemed pleased, so Regulus allowed the statement to pass unchallenged.

Nothing else had changed either. Not even the fact that he no longer called her Cissy.

That particular habit had disappeared years ago, shortly after Orion officially named him heir and Regulus had begun untangling several long-standing business arrangements he no longer considered beneficial.

The Malfoy partnerships had been among the first to go. Her husband had taken it personally.

Regulus had not cared. Some things simply weren't negotiable. Business decisions certainly weren't. Not even when Narcissa herself had attempted to intervene.

Especially not then.

Remus, meanwhile, greeted Narcissa with his usual warmth.

Malfoy received a handshake. Nothing more. "Black."

"Malfoy." A perfectly civil exchange.

The fact that neither of them particularly enjoyed it was irrelevant.

"And Lupin, of course." Lucius extended the same courtesy towards Remus, who returned it with a polite smile.

"Lucius. Narcissa." Remus tilted his head slightly.

"Narcissa, did you cut your hair?"

The reaction was immediate. Surprise flickered across Narcissa's face before she could hide it. "Yes, actually."

Her hand lifted instinctively towards the shorter strands. "About three centimetres."

Andromeda blinked, “you cut your hair?"

“I did."

"When?"

"Nearly two weeks ago."

"I genuinely didn't notice."

Regulus wasn't surprised, Remus noticed everything. Not in an alarming way, he simply paid attention to people.

The detail clearly pleased Narcissa more than she intended to reveal.

Before anyone could continue the conversation, a familiar voice exploded into the walls. "And guess who cut it!"

Everyone looked up: Bellatrix arrived like a weather event. "Me!"

There she was. Entirely unchanged.

Some people grew older with grace, Bellatrix grew older with enthusiasm.

Her clothing remained wonderfully eccentric. Her jewellery had somehow become even more dramatic. She moved through rooms with the energy of someone permanently operating at twice the speed of everyone else.

Several paces behind her, Rabastan Lestrange followed carrying enough tote bags to suggest he'd recently survived an expedition.

"Regulus Arcturus Black!"

Regulus barely had time to react before Bellatrix wrapped her arms around him.

The hug wasn't nearly as aggressive as Sirius's had been. Still, he immediately found himself attempting to escape the impressive amount of dark hair currently attacking his face.

"Hello, Bella."

She pulled back only far enough to examine him properly. "You look wonderful!"

"I am, how are you?"

"Great as ever! I've been everywhere recently. Hungary was excellent. Look!" Two hands appeared directly in front of his face. Several rings glittered beneath the lights.

One featured a serpent wrapped elegantly around her finger, black gemstones forming its eyes. The other was equally dramatic.

"The snake one suits you."

Bellatrix's entire face brightened. "I know."

Sirius immediately appeared beside them. "Why am I only seeing these now?"

"Because," Bellatrix informed him patiently, "I wanted to show Regulus first you silly."

Sirius looked personally offended. Their cousin ignored him, a long-practised skill.

Nearby, Narcissa and Malfoy exchanged a glance. "We'll leave you all to it," Narcissa announced. "We were about to refresh before dinner."

Several goodbyes followed. Then they disappeared upstairs.

The atmosphere relaxed almost immediately afterwards. Coincidence, no doubt. Bellatrix was already moving on to her next target. "Remus!"

The enthusiasm in her voice could have powered half the manor. She crossed the room before anyone could stop her and wrapped her arms around him without hesitation.

"The award-winning actor. Our actor. Remus bloody Lupin!" 

The final words emerged muffled against his shoulder.

Remus laughed, warm laugh that always seemed to appear around people he cared about.

Bellatrix had to rise onto the tips of her heels to loop her arms properly around his neck, a detail that immediately made Sirius start laughing.

Regulus watched the scene unfold with quiet amusement.

If someone had shown him this image several years ago, he wouldn't have believed it.

Bellatrix and Remus should not have worked. On paper, they made absolutely no sense. In reality, however, they got along alarmingly well.

Particularly once they'd discovered a shared appreciation for bizarre fairy tales, obscure folklore, and fantasy novels that appeared determined to exceed a thousand pages.

Remus read everything. Bellatrix collected strange stories the way other people collected jewellery. The friendship had formed almost immediately.

At this point, Regulus suspected it would outlive all of them.

"Black." Rabastan's voice drew his attention away.

"Lestrange."

They exchanged handshakes. Regulus glanced towards the tote bags still hanging from the man's arms. "You seem busy."

Rabastan looked down. Then laughed. A deeply unfortunate sound, “flowers."

"I can see that."

"She doesn't like the arrangements in our room."

Of course she didn't.

"Apparently the scent is wrong."

Regulus nodded. The explanation raised more questions than it answered.

He wisely chose not to ask them. Fortunately, Rabastan continued regardless. "Long drive?"

"Something like that."

"Then I should probably rescue Lupin before Bella adopts him permanently."

Regulus glanced across the foyer. Bellatrix was currently explaining something with enough hand gestures to endanger nearby furniture.

Remus appeared delighted.

"Good luck with that."

Rabastan sighed, the sigh of a man who had accepted his circumstances years ago.

Then, from across the room, Bellatrix suddenly pointed at Regulus. "Oh, and Regulus, you should probably visit Walburga. She's being absolutely impossible." Bellatrix delivered the words with the enthusiasm of someone sharing excellent gossip rather than potentially concerning medical information.

Before Regulus could ask what that was supposed to mean, she was already disappearing down the corridor with Rabastan in tow, still laughing to herself.

Regulus watched her go. Then slowly turned towards Sirius. "What is that?"

Sirius immediately grimaced, "well."

The hesitation lasted exactly long enough to be suspicious. "Mother's being examined by a doctor."

Regulus stared at him.

Sirius scratched the back of his neck. He shifted his attention towards Andromeda, who was still holding a glass in one hand and looked as though she'd only just remembered something important.

"Oh." She blinked. "Right."

That wasn't encouraging either. "I completely forgot to mention it."

"Excellent."

"It's not serious," the reassurance arrived so quickly that Regulus trusted it even less.

"You know what your mother is like."

That, unfortunately, was a perfectly valid argument.

"She's upstairs with Effie and Hope."

Remus, who had been quietly listening until now, frowned slightly. "Are they alright?"

Andromeda immediately smiled. "Oh, believe me Remus, they're fine."

A laugh escaped her, "Hope was practically crying with laughter when she arrived."

That did sound promising.

"If Hope's laughing," James agreed, "nobody's dying."

"An excellent family standard." Sirius bowed his head.

Regulus glanced briefly at his watch. Dinner would begin soon.

"Have you seen Da or Monty?" Remus asked.

James shook his head. “Nope."

He slipped both hands into his pockets. "Sirius and I went riding for a bit. By the time we got back, all three mothers had already arrived."

"With wildly different expressions," Sirius added. "Mother looked delighted."

"Effie looked concerned and Hope looked entertained."

James pointed. "Exactly."

"Which somehow tells us absolutely nothing."

"Correct."

Remus exchanged a look with Regulus. "I think we should check on them."

"They're fine, mother's simply being dramatic." Sirius insisted.

"Funny." Regulus adjusted his cuffs. "The trait appears remarkably hereditary."

James immediately burst out laughing.

Sirius looked personally attacked. "You're impossible."

"Genetics are a fascinating thing."

"Moony, Control your boyfriend!" Sirius pointed accusingly.

Remus looked delighted. "He is your brother Pads."

“Traitor!”

"See you at dinner then, Pads. Prongs."

The two men saluted dramatically. Neither of them appeared remotely embarrassed.

Regulus had long accepted that this was simply how James and Sirius existed.

As they made their way upstairs, Remus's hand slipped from his and settled comfortably around his shoulders instead.

The movement felt so natural that Regulus barely noticed it. Remus had always been affectionate because touching the people he loved seemed as natural to him as breathing.

Regulus had never quite grown accustomed to how comforting it felt.

"Honestly," Remus said quietly, "if both Sirius and Andromeda forgot to mention it, I'm fairly certain your mother isn't on the verge of death."

Regulus snorted, “a reassuring benchmark."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

The truth was that Remus was probably right.

If anything genuinely concerning had happened, Sirius would have led with it immediately. The same was true of Andromeda.

More importantly, Orion wasn't in the study room gossiping with his father and brother in law.

That alone told Regulus everything he needed to know.

Because to let you know, for all their occasional disagreements, Orion Black loved Walburga with a devotion that bordered on absurd.

Even now. Even after decades of marriage. Even after all the drama, businesses, responsibilities, and everything else life had thrown at them.

If Walburga were genuinely unwell, Orion would be sitting beside her bed but he is not, which meant Walburga was probably fine.

Dramatic. But fine.

The further they climbed, the clearer the sounds became. At first it was only laughter. Then came the unmistakable sound of Hope Lupin's voice: bright, animated, entirely incapable of being mistaken for anyone else.

Another voice responded: Effie's, if Regulus had to guess.

Then several quieter voices that were likely doctors attempting to maintain professionalism whilst dealing with Walburga Black.

By the time they reached the carved double doors leading towards Orion and Walburga's suite, the conversation beyond had become a blur of muffled voices and occasional laughter.

Remus knocked twice.

Immediately, the room fell silent. The effect was almost impressive.

A few moments later, the door opened. "Master Regulus. Master Remus." Malena stepped aside with a small smile.

Regulus felt himself smiling back automatically. He'd known her for most of his life. Long enough that seeing her felt as much a part of Souveraine as the stone walls themselves.

Malena had begun working at the manor decades ago. Her late husband had worked here too, right up until his death several years earlier. Even after Pollux offered her retirement and more than enough financial security to enjoy it, she'd politely declined.

Souveraine, she claimed, would be unbearably dull without her.

The family quietly suspected the opposite was true.

"Malena."

"It's lovely to see you, Master." Her eyes moved between him and Remus.

The smile widened, "you both look very handsome, as always."

Regulus heard Remus laugh softly beside him. "Thank you, Malena."

"And how have you been, Malena?" Of course Remus was the one who asked.

The question arrived naturally as they followed her deeper into the suite, moving through the sitting room towards the master bedroom beyond.

Malena smiled immediately. "I've been very well, Master Remus. Thank you for asking."

One of the many things that continued to fascinate Regulus about his boyfriend was how effortlessly he built relationships with people.

Not strategically, not because he thought he should. Simply because he genuinely cared.

There was a very real possibility that Remus knew the names of each member at Souveraine than he did, despite himself having spent most of his life here.

More impressively, people always seemed comfortable around him. Housekeepers. Gardeners. Drivers. Assistants. Within minutes, Remus somehow had them laughing and chatting as though they'd known him for years.

"Oh, Master Remus," Malena waved a dismissive hand, "stop teasing an old woman."

The woman led them towards another doorway before pausing.

The door ahead wasn't fully closed. Voices drifted through the gap. "Mistress Walburga is accompanied by Effie Potter and Hope Lupin."

Remus laughed, "gosh, I haven't heard anyone call Mum by her full name in ages. Has she already cornered you for a conversation?"

Malena looked genuinely delighted by the question. "Not yet, Master Remus."

"Give it time."

That earned another laugh. Then a voice called from inside. "Come in,” Effie.

She immediately pushed the door open.

The scene beyond came into view all at once: Walburga sat upright against an impressive collection of pillows, looking considerably healthier than someone supposedly causing family-wide concern. The bed sheets were a soft shade of yellow. Two doctors stood nearby. Effie occupied one armchair. Hope occupied another.

Or rather, Hope occupied it for approximately half a second.

"And there's my boys!"

Regulus barely had enough time to react. Hope Lupin crossed the room with alarming speed.

Naturally, she hugged him first. Not Remus. Him. By this point, nobody questioned it.

Least of all Remus, who immediately wandered towards Effie with the resigned amusement of a man who had accepted his place in the hierarchy years ago.

"Hope."

"Regulus, my darling!"

She cupped his face in both hands.

Being significantly shorter than him required a certain amount of stretching. The effort did not appear to discourage her. "You look absolutely perfect."

Regulus smiled despite himself.

Hope looked exactly as he remembered: warm, bright, comfortable in a way that very few people were.

The last time he'd seen her had been in Wales. She somehow looked unchanged.

"And that's my son you're fussing over," Walburga's voice cut cleanly through the room.

Immediately, Hope and Effie burst into laughter.

Regulus exchanged an amused glance with Remus.

Walburga, meanwhile, looked deeply offended by everyone else's amusement.

"Oh, let me hug him properly, Walburga."

"Let yourself rest, Walburga."

Hope and Effie spoke at exactly the same moment. The synchronisation only made them laugh harder.

His mother looked as though she regretted inviting either woman into the room. Possibly both.

"Effie,” he stepped forward as the older woman greeted him with a kiss against his cheek.

A sensible greeting. Effie understood that he wasn't particularly fond of being hugged by everyone.

Hope remained the exception. For reasons Regulus preferred not to examine too closely.

"Regulus, you look tired." Effie tilted her head thoughtfully. "Tired, but in a good way."

A dangerous observation.

"Have you only just arrived?"

"We got here a few minutes ago." Remus, his darling Remus answered before he could, always.

"We ran into everyone downstairs first. Sirius, James, Andromeda. They told us you were all up here,” because Remus knew him too well.

Remus always seemed to recognise the moments when he didn't particularly want to become the centre of a conversation and quietly stepped in without making a performance of it.

Hope pointed immediately. "Be honest, Remus."

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "Sirius definitely didn't phrase it like that."

Remus laughed, "oh, Mum." Only then did he lean down and properly hug her.

"Hello."

"My boy." Hope wrapped both arms around him.

"How are you?"

Remus kissed her forehead. The gesture was so instinctive it looked rehearsed. "Better."

The answer softened something in Hope's expression.

Then Remus glanced towards Regulus. "To be fair, it wasn't Sirius."

"Oh?"

"It was Bellatrix."

Effie looked startled.

Regulus heard Walburga sigh heavily from across the room. "Of course it was."

"The girl has never been capable of keeping information to herself." The complaint lacked any real irritation.

Hope, meanwhile, was already moving again. She picked up a small white tube from one of the bedside tables before crossing back towards them.

"Here,” the item was deposited directly into his hand.

No explanation. No warning. Simply confidence that he would immediately understand his assignment.

Regulus looked down at it. Then up at her. "Hope."

"You're welcome."

"Hope."

She ignored him. Entirely. "Make sure she actually uses it." Hope pointed towards Walburga.

Effie nodded in agreement. "That's your responsibility now, boys."

The two doctors, both familiar faces from years of serving the family, exchanged expressions that suggested they had long since accepted that medical authority held very little power inside this room.

Within moments, Hope was already ushering them all towards the door.

Effie followed, “see you both at dinner and don't let her argue."

"Or negotiate."

"Or threaten anyone."

"Especially her own sons!"

The door closed behind them. Silence settled briefly across the room.

Regulus looked down at the cream in his hand. Then towards the bed. Walburga stared back.

He stared at her.

She stared at him.

Neither spoke.

The silence stretched.

Then Walburga crossed her arms. "I am not using that."

Regulus sighed.

Of course she wasn't.

Her hair still looked damp despite being indoors. Her complexion was slightly paler than usual. Several of her fingers were red, and when he looked closer, he noticed a collection of shallow scratches scattered across her knuckles and fingertips.

None of it appeared serious, which only made him more curious.

Beside him, Remus quietly pulled a chair closer and nudged it towards him.

Regulus sat.

Remus, meanwhile, settled himself on the edge of the bed as though he had been part of this family his entire life.

Before Regulus could protest, the cream Hope had practically forced into his hand was smoothly confiscated and placed in Remus's possession instead.

A deeply efficient theft, "did Mum take you flower picking?"

The question caught Regulus off guard. He turned towards Remus.

Truthfully, he still wasn't entirely certain how he felt about all of this.

Hope had clearly expected him to help, the problem was that he and Walburga had never operated like that. If either of them became ill, someone was called. A doctor, a nurse, a member of staff.

They did not sit beside one another applying medicine.

They never had.

Yet Remus seemed completely untroubled by the situation. He reached for a medical wipe from the bedside table, cleaned Walburga's hand with careful movements, and unscrewed the cap of the cream as though this were the most natural thing in the world.

"No." Walburga watched him suspiciously.

Remus hummed. A very diplomatic sound. "Right."

The response carried just enough disbelief to make Regulus look away before he accidentally laughed.

"Well, these cuts should probably be cleaned properly before they become infected,” Remus glanced up.

The smile he offered was gentle. Patient. "May I?"

For a brief moment, Walburga hesitated. The hesitation alone was astonishing then her eyes shifted towards Regulus.

Walburga sighed dramatically. "You may." Only then did she surrender her hand.

Remus immediately began applying the cream. His movements remained as careful as ever.

"You've got a fever as well,” he finally spoke.

"What did the doctors say?"

His mother closed her eyes. Not because of the question, because Remus had apparently found a particularly sensitive cut.

"Apparently," she replied dryly, "I am no longer capable of standing in the rain for hours without consequences."

"A shocking discovery."

"I know." Her sarcasm remained entirely intact. "They said I'm exhausted. The fever should pass in a day or two."

"And?"

"And then they continued talking."

"You stopped listening."

"Naturally." Of course she had.

Regulus studied the scratches again. Something still wasn't adding up because Walburga Black did not casually acquire injuries. Particularly not whilst collecting flowers.

More importantly, Walburga Black did not collect flowers.

Which raised several questions. Most of them are about Hope and Effie. "Where exactly did you go?"

This time, Walburga was the one who looked suspicious.

Before she could answer, Remus spoke. "Let me guess,"

The smile already forming on his face was deeply concerning. "A flower field about twenty minutes from here?"

Walburga's expression changed immediately.

Surprise.

Then annoyance.

Then something alarmingly close to embarrassment.

Regulus felt his amusement grow.

Sirius had been right, their mother was being ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

"And those two terrifying women convinced you to join one of those pick-your-own-flower gardens where everyone walks around with baskets," Remus continued applying the cream.

His tone remained perfectly innocent, “And you, Mistress Walburga Black, personally gathered flowers with your own hands."

Silence. Then, "I hate you."

Walburga pointed at the door. "Out."

Regulus was really amused with all the scenes happening in front of his bare eyes because what do you mean Walburga Black was blushing?!

Actually blushing, because of Remus. Of his boyfriend. 

"Oh, and it was raining," Remus added the final observation whilst placing a plaster over one of the deeper scratches.

"Done."

Walburga looked personally betrayed.

Regulus looked bingung, unsure harus bersikap apa, "why are you picking up flowers?" The question escaped before he could stop it.

The woman immediately crossed her arms. Fortunately, she never got the chance to answer.

"Those flowers were for you and Sirius as well." Orion's voice arrived from the doorway.

All three of them turned, the man entered with both hands tucked neatly into his pockets.

His hair looked slightly windblown, which meant he had probably spent the last hour outside avoiding responsibility.

"Orion,” Remus stood immediately and accepted the embrace offered to him. "It's good to see you."

"And you,” Orion's smile softened, if you can imagine.

"I heard you'd arrived. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered nobody had come looking for me."

"You were in the study room."

"An excellent reason."

"A suspicious reason."

"Also true."

Orion finally turned towards Regulus. The amusement in his eyes suggested he already knew exactly where this conversation was heading.

"Is that true?" Regulus ignored him completely, his attention remained fixed on Walburga.

The room grew quieter. For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Walburga lifted one eyebrow. "Is it difficult to believe?"

The answer arrived instantly.

Yes.

It was.

Not because he doubted her. Because he genuinely didn't understand.

Their relationship had never looked like Hope and Remus. It had never resembled James and Effie.

There had always been affection. Respect. But it had existed beneath layers of distance and caution that neither of them had ever questioned.

Flowers felt different. Too deliberate, too personal, too close to something neither of them usually acknowledged.

And perhaps Walburga understood exactly what he was thinking because her expression softened.

Only slightly.

"Yes." The word arrived quietly. "The arrangement is already in your room."

Regulus said nothing.

"I know you probably won't like it."

His chest tightened.

"But Hope said that if you—"

"Thank you,” the words escaped before he could stop it.

He didn't want to hear the rest. Didn't want details. Didn't want explanations.

Because hearing that Walburga had willingly stood in the rain gathering flowers for him was already enough.

More than enough.

His pulse felt strangely uneven. His breathing wasn't much better. And the truly irritating part was that he couldn't explain why.

Perhaps because he'd spent his entire life learning to be careful whenever someone offered him something.

To question motives, to analyse intentions, to understand what people wanted in return.

Even family. Especially family.

Yet there was nothing to analyse here, only flowers, only effort, only a mother who had apparently injured herself because she wanted to make something for her son.

The thought felt far too large to examine closely.

"Remus, shall we—" Orion speaks.

"No."

The response came simultaneously from both Regulus and Walburga.

The room fell silent. Orion blinked. Remus looked delighted.

Regulus refused to elaborate. Absolutely not.

Remus was staying exactly where he was. Because if he left right now, Regulus was reasonably certain he would be forced to experience several emotions he'd successfully avoided for years.

And judging by the look on his mother’s expression, she felt much the same about Orion.

Interesting. Deeply unfortunate. Entirely understandable.

Which meant it was probably time to leave, immediately, before anyone became any more sincere.

Regulus stood, the moment he reached him, Remus's arm settled naturally around his shoulders again, pulling him back towards something familiar and steady.

Something safe, something easier to understand.

"Alright then,” Remus smiled warmly at the parents,  "we'll leave you to it. See you at dinner."

Regulus didn’t say anything. He simply turned and headed back towards their room.

“Yeah, thank you Remus.” Walburga's voice was noticeably quieter this time.

"Anytime. Just stay away from water for the next twenty minutes at least."

Orion laughed, “you may want to reconsider your career path, Remus."

And it took only a few minutes for them to reach their chambers, which fortunately occupied the same floor.

The moment the door closed behind them, Regulus reached for Remus’ arm on instinct. His head dipped as the last of his composure finally abandoned him, and he allowed himself to lean fully into the support already waiting for him.

“Breathe, baby.”

Remus’ voice became an anchor. A guide. Something steady for him to follow as he forced himself to regulate the breaths he now realised he’d been holding for the better part of the last several minutes.

Simply because he couldn’t handle any more of it. “I, I—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, hm?”

The gentle interruption made him close his eyes. And let himself be cared for. Let Remus hold him together.

Let everything that was uniquely, unmistakably Remus surround him until there was nothing left to focus on except the familiar comfort of his presence.

His heartbeat.

His warmth.

His breathing.

The subtle trace of cologne lingering against his skin. The soft kiss pressed to the crown of his head.

Anything that belonged to him.

Anything that could coax Regulus back towards something resembling equilibrium.

It took several minutes before the tightness in his chest finally loosened and his thoughts settled into something manageable again.

When he eventually looked up, Remus was exactly where he’d been the entire time.

Waiting.

Staying.

Understanding.

“Better?” Remus asked quietly.

“Kiss me.” For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he needed Remus to do exactly that.

And Remus, of course, didn’t ask another question. He simply kissed him.

Beautifully.

Regulus returned the kiss with considerably more intensity than he intended, something deeper and more urgent slipping through the cracks of his carefully rebuilt control.

Before long, he was guiding them both towards the bed, one hand tangling in Remus’ curls and tightening instinctively.

The resulting sound that escaped Remus was low and warm between them, and the kiss deepened naturally as they moved together.

At some point, Regulus opened his eyes.

Remus had already begun trailing kisses along his jaw, down the line of his throat, lingering just long enough to leave him breathless before moving lower. One hand worked patiently at the buttons of his shirt whilst the other remained steady against his side, keeping him close.

Over Remus’ shoulder, he caught sight of the vase.

The lavender had already been arranged amongst several other blooms, their colours bright against the room’s softer tones. The arrangement sat neatly on the table beside the window.

Beautiful.

The thought barely had time to settle before Remus guided him backwards.

A moment later, he found himself sprawled across the bed. Remus followed immediately, bracing himself above him.

The sight nearly stole whatever remained of his composure. His curls were slightly dishevelled. His lips were swollen from their kisses. His eyes had darkened into something that always made his pulse quicken.

Regulus’ gaze dipped instinctively.

The reaction was impossible to miss and apparently that was enough. Because Remus returned to him without hesitation, capturing his mouth again with a kiss that was deeper this time, slower somehow, yet entirely in control.

The sound that escaped Regulus was embarrassingly immediate.

His hand found the back of Remus’ neck on instinct, fingers threading through the hair there as he pulled him closer. His head tipped back against the mattress before turning slightly, chasing every kiss as though he couldn’t bear the distance between them.

He kept his lips against Remus’. Couldn’t seem to stop. A quiet ache had begun building beneath his skin, growing steadily with every passing second, every lingering touch, every breath shared between them.

His heartbeat felt impossibly loud. Need and affection and want had long since tangled themselves into something inseparable whenever it came to Remus.

Another helpless sound slipped from him as Remus’ touch found a particularly sensitive spot, sending a familiar shiver racing through him.

“Please….” the word left him before he could stop it.

His fingers tightened slightly against Remus’ neck. “I need more…”His voice sounded rough to his own ears.

“Please, Remus—”

Thinking became increasingly difficult after that. The room narrowed until it contained only the two of them.

Only warmth.

Only the steady press of skin against skin.

Only Remus.

His hands.

His voice.

His kisses.

The certainty of being wanted.

The certainty of being held.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Remus’ forehead rested briefly against his. “I’ve got you.”

And Regulus let himself forget about the flowers. About Walburga. About the strange, uncomfortable feelings tangled somewhere beneath his ribs that he had absolutely no desire to examine tonight.

And that was alright. Because he knew everything would be alright.

More importantly, Remus, perfect Remus, who had just left him floating somewhere between exhaustion and bliss, was now carefully cleaning him up whilst quietly assuring him that everything would be alright.

So be it.

"I was going to suggest we simply have dinner here," Remus said after a while, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

"But then I remembered the entire reason we came here was for dinner. What do you think? Being slightly late wouldn't be a crime, would it?"

Regulus looked up at him.

His body still felt pleasantly heavy, flushed from heat and affection and everything that had happened between them.

His hair was a mess, his skin still warm, and although his breathing had finally settled into something resembling normal, there was no doubt that Remus could still see the remnants of desire lingering in his eyes.

"I don't even care about dinner."

Remus immediately looked suspicious. "Regulus."

"I'm serious."

"Regulus."

"I already feel full."

The warning in Remus's expression only encouraged him. "Though admittedly, I could still eat you."

The effect was immediate.

Remus Lupin, the same man who had spent the last hour speaking with complete confidence, taking charge of everything with devastating competence and not a shred of hesitation, suddenly had the audacity to blush.

Actually blush.

Regulus burst out laughing. "Mon amour, seriously?" he asked between laughs. "You just turned red because I said I could eat you? After everything that happened minutes ago?"

"Regulus Black!" Remus threw the damp cloth directly at him.

He barely managed to catch it before dissolving into laughter all over again.

One of his favourite things about being with Remus had always been this.

Not simply the intimacy itself. Not even the way Remus could unravel him completely with little more than a look.

It was the contrast afterwards. The way his man always seemed to settle back into himself, calm and gentle and occasionally shy in ways that nobody else would ever believe.

The version of him that existed behind closed doors. The version that belonged only to Regulus. Seeing that side of him never stopped feeling special.

"Yes, Monsieur Lupin?"

"Stop teasing me."

The colour still hadn't entirely disappeared from Remus's face. "We need to get ready for dinner."

Regulus watched him move around the room. His gaze lingered shamelessly.

Several new marks bloomed faintly across Remus's skin, joining older ones that hadn't yet faded completely. There were traces of him everywhere.

Regulus wasn't remotely sorry about it. In fact, he was rather proud.

Dorcas Meadowes could complain all she liked whenever makeup teams had to work overtime before photoshoots. Regulus had heard every variation of the lecture already.

He remained entirely unmoved. People could think whatever they wanted.

At this point, most of the world knew exactly who was responsible anyway.

And as far as Regulus was concerned, Remus would always be his before anything else.

The thought settled comfortably in his chest.

"If you don't join me within three minutes," Remus announced, already heading towards the bathroom, "I swear I'll go to dinner without you."

Regulus watched him disappear. A bold threat, one that unfortunately carried enough credibility to be concerning.

Left alone, he remained sprawled across the bed for several moments, entirely unwilling to move. The room still felt pleasantly warm. His mind felt wonderfully unfocused.

Getting up sounded deeply unreasonable.

He'd never particularly liked showering immediately. He preferred giving himself time to cool down properly first before disappearing into the bathroom for what everyone insisted was an absurd amount of time.

Pandora Rosier, in particular, had once informed him that he spent longer showering than most women she knew.

Regulus continued to maintain that this was slander.

Mostly.

Still, being left alone with his thoughts in their current state wasn't much better.

With a dramatic sigh worthy of the Black madness, he finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and let his feet meet the cold floor.

A terrible experience.

Several minutes later, they eventually emerged from the bathroom no closer to saving time than when they'd entered.

As it turned out, attempting to get ready together remained one of the least efficient activities known to mankind.

By the time they finally escaped and returned to the dressing room, both of them were already cutting it dangerously close.

Fortunately, someone had anticipated this.

Their clothes were waiting for them, neatly prepared and hanging inside the wardrobe exactly where they should be.

Regulus opened the doors and immediately found everything arranged with perfect precision.

"I always wonder whether Malena actively keeps up with the latest fashion trends just so her styling is consistently this good."

Remus asked the question whilst fastening his trousers, a deep brown pair chosen for the evening.

He himself, already further along with getting dressed, glanced up with one eyebrow raised.

Tonight himself was wrapped in perfectly tailored black trousers, the triple pleats sitting flawlessly against his narrow waist.

Paired with them was a black silk draped shirt, the precise wrap construction gathering elegantly at the front before fastening at the back.

All that remained was adjusting the ties so that the fabric sat exactly as it should, highlighting all the features he preferred to highlight.

At the same time, he was still debating which necklace to wear so it would complement the bracelet Remus had given him, the one he had found himself wearing almost every day recently on his left wrist.

"You do realise our outfits are Gabard's responsibility, yes?" he said eventually.

"Whenever we have events like this, he's the one in charge, not Malena."

Regulus wasn't entirely certain whether Remus genuinely didn't know, was teasing him, or had simply forgotten. Surely he knew that Malena's role revolved around managing the household rather than curating their wardrobes.

The answer arrived immediately when Remus stopped halfway through adjusting the self-belt on his trousers.

Ah.

His boyfriend genuinely hadn't known.

Which raised a far more concerning question, had Remus somehow never properly met Gabard?

"I... well, what?"

"Yes. Nigel Gabard. Our in-house fashion stylist handles all of this."

Regulus gestured vaguely towards the room around them. "Why do you think we're measured every year? To make sure nothing's changed."

The expression on Remus's face was priceless.

Confusion and understanding seemed to be fighting for dominance all at once.

It reminded Regulus rather painfully of the first time Remus had visited Grimmauld as Sirius's friend and discovered how the household actually functioned.

The first time he'd realised Orion never needed to stand up when her glass was empty because someone would refill it before she even asked.

The first time Sirius admitted he had no idea how to do laundry. Or wash dishes, or several other tasks most people learned as children.

Not because they were incapable. Simply because nobody had ever expected them to know.

Everything was done before they even thought about it.

And somehow, even after three years together, after living together, travelling together, and spending more time in each other's company than apart, Remus still occasionally stumbled across details that reminded him exactly how different their worlds had once been.

"I might regret asking this," Remus said carefully, "but does that mean he has a team?"

He paused. "Like... an actual fashion team? The sort of thing I'd only ever see on a film set?"

Regulus looked at him for a moment. At the genuine curiosity behind those beautiful eyes.

With the same eyes that somehow always managed to make him feel understood. Loved, seen. 

Then he crossed the small distance between them.

Not that there had been much distance to begin with.

Taking hold of the French cuffs on Remus's black shirt, he calmly adjusted them himself. "Yes, mon amour. Gabard has his own team."

His fingers worked neatly as he spoke. "Tailors, assistants, specialists, and everyone else required to manage these things properly. Particularly where the family is concerned."

Once the cuffs were straight, Regulus examined the options already laid out for Remus.

Four pairs of cufflinks. All carefully selected. All entirely unsuitable.

He himself would be wearing the heirloom cufflinks he had inherited from Pollux on his twentieth birthday.

Remus, however, deserved something better than the options currently available.

Which was why Regulus gently guided him a few steps towards the next display.

His own collection.

Considerably larger and then he saw them.

A brief flash of silver. Oval-shaped, dark silver, edged elegantly, with the Black family crest sitting at the centre beneath dark brown diamonds that caught the light every time they moved.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

For Remus.

The decision took less than three seconds.

Regulus opened the drawer, removed the cufflinks from their case, and fastened them onto Remus's cuffs himself.

Remus, wonderfully oblivious Remus, naturally had no idea that this meant far more than a pair of cufflinks.

Because within the family there had always been an unspoken understanding.

Heirlooms were not given casually. Especially not to someone outside the family.

To wear one was to be acknowledged. To be tied to the family for the foreseeable future.

To be chosen.

And the family member offering it was expected to stand by that choice.

A hidden message. A hidden promise.

"God." Remus examined the cufflinks thoughtfully.

"I still don't understand how someone can be wealthy enough to have their own in-house fashion department."

He shook his head, "I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing things like that."

His gaze shifted towards the untouched cufflinks Gabard had prepared. "Didn't you like the ones they picked out?"

Regulus nodded. "Not particularly."

Then a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I possess free will, after all. Which means I'm perfectly entitled to make you look exactly how I want."

He tilted his head slightly. "That's alright, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Remus glanced down at the cufflinks again.

"The stones work perfectly with the trousers."

His eyes travelled upwards, "And the Black crest works with your outfit."

The look that followed was enough to make something warm unfurl low in Regulus's stomach.

Honestly.

This man would be the death of him.

"Do you want to change your jewellery as well?" Regulus asked, still watching him.

Remus turned towards the full-length mirror, examining himself properly. Regulus remained standing directly behind him, arms folded across his chest as he studied the reflection with equal attention.

Bloody hell. He looked perfect.

"What do you think?" Remus asked. "Should I take the earrings out?"

The answer was immediately no.

Remus was wearing the thin gold hoops he always wore, one in each ear, along with a delicate diamond necklace carrying a simple pendant shaped like the letter R.

A letter that represented both of them.

And yes, both pieces had come from him.

The gifts had been given years apart, including the necklace, which Regulus had purchased on an entirely random afternoon simply because he thought it would look nice on Remus.

At the time, nobody would have guessed that the initial stood for Regulus as much as it stood for Remus.

That had been before anyone knew. Before the world knew.

Regulus shook his head. "No. I like the look. I think we're good to go."

"Yeah?" Remus asked lightly. "Do I look presentable enough for a Black family dinner?"

The teasing tone was accompanied by a hand settling against his waist, Remus’s fingers absent-mindedly tracing small circles there.

Regulus immediately felt another shiver run through him. "Don't you dare ruin my appearance when you're the one who was so determined we had to go downstairs."

Remus laughed and leaned forward to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"I know. I just can't resist the way your waist looks."

"You should thank Gabard."

"Oh, baby, I will."

Remus sounded entirely sincere. "The next time I see him, I'll make sure he knows exactly how much I respect his work."

That finally made Regulus laugh.

Again.

The sound was interrupted only by a knock at the door and Malena's voice informing them that dinner was nearly ready and most of the family had already gathered downstairs.

A few minutes later they made their way towards the dining room hand in hand, moving through the familiar corridors of Souveraine together.

Almost everyone had already arrived.

Almost.

The only empty seats belonged to Orion and Lyall.

Regulus noticed Pollux first. More specifically, he noticed where Pollux's attention landed.

The older man's grey eyes dropped briefly towards Remus's cuffs as his boyfriend paused to greet James and Sirius.

And there it was: recognition. Immediate. Sharp.

Pollux looked up. Regulus met his gaze directly.

The next, he caught Alphard watching as well. Walburga too. Fuck. The siblings had noticed.

Of course they had.

Meanwhile, the man wearing the cufflinks remained blissfully oblivious.

Naturally.

So Regulus said nothing.

He simply crossed the room towards his seat.

The arrangement was the same as it always was: Pollux sat at the centre of the table.

To his left sat Orion, then Walburga, Alphard, Cygnus, Druella, Andromeda, Bellatrix, Rabastan, Narcissa, and Lucius.

To his right sat Regulus, then Remus, Sirius, James, Lyall, Hope, Effie, and Monty.

Regulus took his usual place immediately beside Pollux. Remus settled into the chair on his left. Directly opposite him sat Walburga. Opposite Sirius sat Alphard. Everything exactly as it should be.

"How very on brand for you." Pollux spoke before Regulus had properly settled into his chair.

"You arrive only when dinner is about to begin, despite the fact that I've been sitting here for quite some time."

Regulus reached over to greet him. This wasn't the first time such a conversation had happened.

Not even close.

"There was something I needed to do,” he adjusted his napkin calmly.

"It took longer than expected."

Unlike Sirius, who had always been closer to Melania, Regulus had spent most of his childhood attached to Pollux's side.

Conversations with the older man had never felt difficult. Comfortable, perhaps. Demanding at times. But never difficult.

"He visited me first before disappearing to get ready for dinner." Walburga's voice carried easily across the table.

Pollux immediately turned towards her. "At least the two of you are making progress."

The comment earned identical expressions from both mother and son.

Before either could respond, Orion and Lyall entered together through the same doorway, apparently arriving from whatever conversation had delayed them both.

After a round of greetings and a brief apology from Lyall for keeping everyone waiting, because Orion was naturally allergic to uttering such words himself, the table finally settled.

Conversation resumed almost immediately.

Monty Potter had somehow become fascinated by Malfoy, which was proving deeply unfortunate for Lucius. Every answer he gave seemed to generate three new questions, and neither Pollux nor Alphard showed the slightest interest in rescuing him.

In fact, both men appeared openly entertained by the situation, encouraging Monty to continue until Malfoy looked increasingly concerned by every bite of food he attempted to swallow.

Further down the table, Lestrange had fallen into conversation with Hope and Bellatrix about flowers. An oddly successful topic, considering Bellatrix's enthusiasm and Hope's endless ability to find joy in absolutely everything.

Orion, meanwhile, was exercising remarkable restraint by not openly feeding his wife despite the fact that her hands were still sore.

Remus had noticed, of course he had.

Several times Regulus felt fingers squeeze his thigh beneath the table whenever Orion reached for something before visibly stopping himself.

Every time, Regulus realized that his boyfriend looked seconds away from laughing.

Then, halfway through a discussion regarding a potential partnership with the House of Carrow that Regulus had been having with Pollux and Orion, disaster struck.

Or rather, Sirius finally noticed the cufflinks. 

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?"

The outburst echoed across the entire room.

Forks stopped. Conversations died. Half the table jumped.

Sirius stared at Remus's wrist as though he'd just discovered evidence of a crime.

Then he looked at Remus himself, the expression somehow became even more horrified.

Remus froze halfway through speaking with Andromeda, "what?"

His eyebrows knitted together immediately, "what happened?"

"You—" Sirius pointed.

Then pointed again. "No, seriously, what the hell?!"

Orion cleared his throat, "Sirius." The warning was mild, the authority behind it wasn't, "Language."

Regulus, meanwhile, remained silent. Mostly because he had become occupied with observing everyone else's reactions.

Pollux still appeared calm, though mildly annoyed that his discussion had been interrupted.

Orion seemed entirely unbothered beyond Sirius's choice of vocabulary.

Walburga and Alphard, if Regulus were being completely honest, looked suspiciously delighted.

Andromeda had clearly noticed, Bellatrix had too. Both women were staring at Remus's cuffs with eyes nearly as wide as Sirius's.

The rest of the table was still trying to work out what exactly was happening.

"What, Sirius?" Remus lowered his voice instinctively.

Unfortunately, the room had already fallen completely silent. Every person present was listening.

Sirius looked personally distressed. "Remus, what the fuck?!"

This time it was Pollux who intervened, "Sirius."

"Sorry, Grandpa." Sirius immediately raised both hands. "But can everyone please stop pretending nothing is happening?"

His gaze swept across the entire table. "Am I genuinely the only person who just noticed?"

And damn Sirius for choosing this exact moment, because now Remus was visibly uncomfortable.

Regulus caught Lyall's expression, then Hope's, both looked confused. Neither understood.

And suddenly Regulus felt unexpectedly guilty. "Don't be dramatic, Sirius."

His tone remained calm, "you are interrupting dinner."

At the same time, he reached across and took Remus's hand beneath the table, rubbing his thumb gently across his knuckles.

A silent reassurance.

A reminder that everything was fine.

Remus immediately turned towards him. "What is he talking about?"

"The cufflinks,” his answer came easily. "Sirius is surprised you're wearing them. That's all."

And just like that, every eye in the room officially shifted towards the cufflinks.

Including Remus's. "Oh."

He looked down. Then back up. "Oh, erm..."

Immediately, Regulus knew exactly where this was heading.

"I know I probably shouldn't have worn a family heirloom. Sorry, I just thought—"

"Remus,” Alphard interrupted before the rambling could properly begin.

His voice was unusually gentle, "if you're wearing them, then Regulus gave them to you. Which means they're yours," the older man smiled.

A brief silence followed. "Exactly, Sirius is simply surprised." Cygnus spoke for perhaps the first time in twenty minutes.

"Surprised?" Sirius looked scandalised. "Surprised?!"

The word echoed dramatically through the room.

Bellatrix immediately burst out laughing. "Oh, he's having a crisis."

"Well, it looks good on him regardless, doesn't it? Thank you, Regulus." Hope Lupin offered one of her trademark smiles, immediately prompting small laughs from both Andromeda and Bellatrix.

Remus smiled. So did Regulus.

"Oh, for the love of— Reg, be honest with him. Honestly. He deserves to know!" Sirius sounded genuinely irritated now, and Regulus shot him a sharp look.

Yes.

Regulus knew he owed Remus an explanation.

But not now. Not when dinner had been pleasant. Not when everyone was comfortable. Not when this evening had somehow managed to unfold without disaster.

"Oh, Sirius, you really can't keep your mouth shut, can you?" Bellatrix muttered beneath her breath.

Unfortunately, it was still loud enough for the entire table to hear.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but before anything else, he's my best friend."

That was enough.

Because Sirius was making it sound as though Regulus had trapped Remus into something embarrassing.

Or worse.

Something he wouldn't have chosen himself.

"And he's mine, Sirius,” the words left Regulus before he could soften them.

"He's mine, so what happens in our relationship is entirely out of your hands."

Sirius returned the look immediately. Equally sharp. Equally stubborn.

Beside him, James had already placed a calming hand against Sirius's lower back, clearly attempting to keep his boyfriend grounded before the situation escalated further.

"It isn't anything bad,” Pollux finally intervened.

His voice cut cleanly through the tension. "And it certainly isn't something they're unprepared for. If anything, they're simply taking their time."

"Would anybody care to explain what we're actually talking about?" Remus asked.

His voice remained calm, but Regulus could hear the confusion beneath it. "Because I still don't understand."

Then he turned slightly, "Baby?"

"I can explain!" Bellatrix immediately raised a hand.

Her enthusiasm was deeply alarming. "Can I explain it?"

Cygnus and Druella answered simultaneously. "No."

Bellatrix looked offended.

Walburga spoke before anyone else could. "You already know they're heirlooms, Remus."

Her gaze drifted briefly towards the cufflinks. "But they're more than that. They're family crest cufflinks."

The room fell quiet again.

Regulus took over from there. "It's more than a gift."

His eyes remained fixed on Remus. "If a member of this family gives them to someone, it's considered a declaration."

He paused. "A declaration of loyalty. Of commitment. Of a lasting bond."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Alphard's mouth. "The Blacks have never been particularly good at subtlety."

"Especially considering we don't share heirlooms,” Regulus continued.

Throughout the explanation, he never looked away from Remus.

And Remus never looked away from him.

Regulus watched every emotion move across his face.

Surprise.

Confusion.

Doubt.

A flicker of annoyance.

Then thoughtfulness.

Then the familiar calm expression that always appeared whenever Remus was carefully sorting through his feelings.

The silence stretched. Nobody interrupted. Nobody moved. 

And Regulus found that he hated every second of it.

Because Remus wasn't saying anything.

Anything at all.

"Well," Alphard said eventually, "it's not as though the two of you haven't discussed commitment before."

Several people nodded.

"Particularly given the nature of your relationship."

"And considering the last four months," added Cygnus.

Still.

Remus remained quiet.

Still watching him.

Still thinking.

Regulus disliked this moment immensely. He was seconds away from saying something else when suddenly a hand reached for the back of his neck.

Remus.

The movement was quick enough to surprise him.

Firm enough that Regulus immediately stopped speaking.

Then Remus pulled him closer.

The kiss wasn't hesitant. Wasn't uncertain. It was warm. Certain. Intentional.

The sort of kiss that left absolutely no room for misunderstanding.

Several people around the table audibly reacted.

Regulus wasn't entirely convinced he hadn't been one of them.

When they finally pulled apart, the room remained silent for approximately three seconds.

Then Monty Potter spoke. "Well."

He took another sip of wine. "I don't think Remus is planning on changing his mind anytime soon."

The entire table burst out laughing. 

"Dad!" James groaned, already laughing himself.

"What?" Monty looked genuinely confused. "I'm right."

Which only made everyone laugh harder.

Remus turned back towards Regulus. His expression softened. "I love you."

The words settled somewhere warm beneath Regulus's ribs. He smiled. "I know."

Across the table, Pollux sighed dramatically. "Public displays of affection at the dinner table were not on my agenda this evening."

"Tell me about it," Orion replied. Though the smile on his face ruined any attempt at sounding annoyed.

"Well." Sirius cleared his throat. "Congratulations?"

Regulus immediately shook his head. "No."

The answer came far too quickly.

"This isn't an engagement."

Every person at the table immediately became interested again.

"It isn't?" Bellatrix looked delighted.

"No."

Regulus frowned. "This is matter, obviously, but I am absolutely not getting engaged through a pair of cufflinks."

The more he spoke, the more amused everyone looked.

Including Remus.

Including Pollux.

Including Walburga.

Even Lyall was struggling not to laugh.

Regulus looked around the table. "What?"

Nobody answered. Which was concerning.

Then Remus leaned over and kissed his cheek.

A simple gesture. Entirely devastating.

Their fingers found each other again above the table. "Of course, baby."

The smile in Remus's voice made everything significantly worse. "I'd plan something outrageously grand for us."

Effe and Hope dissolved into laughter simultaneously.

Across the table, Walburga looked one breath away from joining them.

And only then did Regulus fully process what he'd just said.

What he'd implied. What everyone had heard.

Oh, Lord.

He was completely and utterly doomed.

"And who exactly says you're the one doing the proposing?"

Regulus shot back immediately, sounding genuinely offended by the suggestion.

The reaction was instant. The entire table erupted again.

"Oh, this is brilliant." James practically leaned across Sirius in excitement.

"They're absolutely going to spend years trying to propose before the other one can. I can already see it. Both of them wake up in a panic every morning terrified they'll lose."

"THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I'M SAYING!" Andromeda pointed dramatically at James as though he'd finally understood her life's work.

"Tell me about it," Alphard added, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Especially after today's headlines."

His eyes shifted towards Lyall. "What was it again?"

Lyall immediately looked delighted.

Apparently he had been waiting for this. "'Regulus Black Leaves Boardroom Early to Collect Boyfriend from GQ Shoot.'"

The table dissolved.

Again.

Even Orion smiled into his wine. "I genuinely thought I'd misread it."

Lyall shook his head. "Then I opened the article."

Hope immediately leaned forward. "There was an article?"

"There were several."

"There are always several," Sirius groaned.

Regulus sighed. "The public is becoming ridiculous."

"The public adores you."

"No."

"The public adores the fact that you left work early."

"Which is ridiculous."

"Because?" Bellatrix asked.

"Because I can do whatever I want."

"Exactly." Bellatrix looked triumphant. "You left work early to collect your boyfriend."

"As one should," Hope added immediately.

"As one should," Effie agreed.

Regulus looked around the table. 

No allies. Not one.

Remus was smiling into his wine.

Traitor.

"The reaction has been excessive."

"Well, I like it." The admission came from Remus.

The table quietened slightly, but his boyfriend 

 looked entirely unbothered by the attention.

"If I'm honest, it's been rather nice."

"Nice?" Sirius repeated.

Remus nodded. "Nobody tries to set me up anymore."

Several people laughed.

"I'm serious." Remus pointed around the table.

"For years it was constant."

"Not from me," James said.

"Because you were too busy trying to set Sirius up with people."

"Fair.”

Remus laughed. "But now everyone already knows."

His fingers found Regulus's beneath the table. "And I quite like that."

Something warm settled inside Regulus's chest.

A simple sentence.

Yet somehow it felt larger than all the headlines combined.

Sirius immediately pointed at them.

"See? That's the problem."

"What problem?" asked Remus.

"The questions."

Sirius looked deeply traumatised. "Every interview."

"Pads.”

"Every interview, Moons."

James was already laughing.

"They ask me about you two."

"Because you're his brother."

"They don't care that I'm his brother."

"They do."

"No, they care that Regulus Black is apparently capable of human affection."

This time even Pollux laughed.

Regulus looked scandalised. "Shut up, Sirius."

"You're welcome."

Bellatrix abruptly raised her glass. "Actually, Remus, now that we're discussing important matters."

The tone immediately concerned everyone. "You need to start attending my tea afternoons."

The room fell silent.

Remus blinked. "Your what?"

"My tea afternoons." Bellatrix looked offended he needed clarification.

"I have spent months hearing society women ask questions about you."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes!" Bellatrix pointed dramatically. "And now I finally have proof that you belong to this family."

"Bellatrix."

"You are absolutely attending and you’ll sit beside me. And of course! "You'll be charming Remus."

"I don't think—"

"And then I shall introduce you as Regulus's."

The entire table burst out laughing.

Hope immediately raised her hand. "Actually, I have a better idea."

Everyone turned.

Hope smiled brightly. "Regulus needs to come back to Wales soon."

Regulus immediately knew he was in danger.

"Hope."

"No, listen."

"We are not doing this."

"I'm absolutely doing this." Hope ignored him completely. "My friends still ask about you."

"You haven't visited in ages, and I'd very much like to show you off.”

Lyall nearly choked on his wine. Across the table, Bellatrix looked inspired, an unfortunate development.

Then, unexpectedly, another voice joined the conversation. "You are all thinking too small."

Conversation across the table faltered almost immediately as heads turned towards the source.

Walburga Black sat precisely where she had been all evening, one hand resting lightly against the stem of her wine glass, looking entirely unbothered by the fact that she had just interrupted a room full of people.

The sudden silence was almost impressive.

Including Regulus.

Including Remus.

Including Pollux.

For one brief, bewildering moment, nobody seemed entirely certain what to do.

Walburga took another measured sip of wine. Then she set the glass down and looked directly at Remus. “You should make a public appearance with me.”

The silence that followed was spectacular. Regulus genuinely wondered whether he’d imagined it.

Across the table, Andromeda’s mouth actually fell open. Alphard looked seconds away from choking on his drink. Sirius stared at his mother with the sort of suspicion usually reserved for potential crime scenes.

Even Orion looked surprised. Which, frankly, was concerning.

Remus blinked once.

Then twice.

His gaze shifted briefly towards Regulus before returning to Walburga.

And then, because apparently he had no interest whatsoever in preserving the collective blood pressure of everyone present, he smiled.

“I’d be happy to.”

The room somehow became even quieter. 

Regulus glanced towards his mother. Walburga remained perfectly composed. Only the faintest trace of satisfaction lingered around her eyes.

Tiny. Almost imperceptible. But there.

Enough to tell him she had anticipated precisely that response. Enough to tell him she was pleased by it.

Which was, in its own way, nearly as shocking as the proposal itself.

Because Walburga Black did not offer public appearances. She certainly did not offer them voluntarily. And she absolutely did not share them.

Yet over the past few months, Regulus had noticed something strange.

Remus never pushed, never demanded, never attempted to force relationships into existence simply because they would be convenient.

Instead, he listened. He remembered things. He showed up.

Somehow, through a series of conversations, dinners, visits, and quiet moments that never appeared significant at the time, he’d achieved what generations of Black family diplomacy had apparently failed to accomplish.

Walburga genuinely liked him. 

Then Bellatrix screamed. Actually screamed. The resulting chaos was immediate. Several people started talking at once. Sirius demanded clarification. Andromeda looked delighted. Alphard finally gave up attempting to understand anything that happened in this family.

Within seconds, the room had dissolved back into noise. And somehow it only continued from there. Stories blended into arguments. Arguments became laughter. Someone opened another bottle of wine despite widespread agreement that nobody required more wine.

Which, naturally, meant everybody drank more wine.

At one point Bellatrix began outlining an increasingly ambitious social calendar for Remus that appeared to involve half the country.

At another, Hope launched into a spirited defence of Wales that eventually escalated into a debate involving geography, weather, and national pride.

Sirius complained about journalists.

Twice.

Possibly three times.

Pollux made a valiant effort to maintain order before eventually abandoning the idea altogether and pouring himself another drink.

The evening stretched comfortably around them after that.

Loose.

Warm.

Lived-in.

And through it all, Regulus found himself watching.

Watching Remus laugh at something Andromeda said.

Watching him lean across the table to answer one of Bellatrix’s increasingly ridiculous questions.

Watching him settle naturally amongst people who, not so very long ago, would have seemed impossible to gather in the same room.

Watching him belong.

The realisation settled clear somewhere beneath his ribs.

Not because Remus had changed for them. Because he hadn’t. If anything, he remained stubbornly, infuriatingly himself.

Yet somehow every person at that table had found a place for him anyway.

And in return, he’d connected them to one another in ways Regulus wasn’t entirely certain anyone else could have managed.

Through him.

Through them.

Four months ago, the world had discovered that Remus Lupin was his.

At the time, Regulus had assumed that would be enough.

Sitting there now, surrounded by laughter and wine and the sort of family dinner that should not have worked nearly as well as it did, he found himself reconsidering that assumption.

Because there was a difference between people knowing something and showing it.

A difference between allowing a truth to exist and standing beside it openly.

And finally, Regulus found himself wondering what it would look like to take his turn.

To tell people properly.

In the way he wanted.

After all, Regulus Black had never particularly enjoyed doing things halfway.

So when they finally made it back, slightly tipsy from the endless wine and even more endless conversations, when the clocks had long since slipped past midnight and now read nineteen minutes past one in the morning, when the doors of their bedroom closed behind them and shut the rest of the manor away, Regulus kissed him.

And kissed him.

And kissed him again.

The familiar walls of their room felt safer than ever.

For once, it was Remus who reached the bed first. He stepped between his legs, letting Remus's knees trap him there whilst those warm hands settled instinctively at his waist.

His boyfriend looked devastating.

His lips were swollen. His shirt was half undone. His curls were completely ruined. His expression had darkened with affection, wine, desire, and all the emotions the evening had left behind.

It was exactly the sort of moment Regulus never wanted to forget. "Stay still."

Remus blinked. "What?"

"I need my phone."

That only seemed to confuse him further.

Before Remus could protest, he was already reaching towards the bedside table where his phone had been abandoned earlier.

"Regulus."

"Yes."

"What are you doing?"

"I need a picture."

The look on Remus's face was priceless. "A picture?"

"Immediately."

Regulus returned to him a moment later and leaned forward to steal another kiss. "I want to remember this. The way you're looking at me,” his voice softened.

Remus's hands immediately returned to his waist. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet you love me."

"Unfortunately."

Regulus laughed against his mouth. Then he lifted the phone.

Remus looked unfairly beautiful through the camera.

The photographs came naturally. One after another.

A hand resting at his waist.

The cufflinks catching the light.

The soft chaos of their clothes.

The intimacy that existed in the small spaces between them.

Nothing dramatic. Nothing staged. Just them, exactly as they were.

By the time he finished, his gallery was filled with moments that felt real. Moments that belonged to them. Moments he wanted to keep.

And for the first time all evening, Regulus understood exactly why he had never managed to post anything before.

The old photographs had never felt right. They had been memories.

These were something else. These were present.

Without another thought, he opened Instagram.

The first image showed Remus's hand resting against his waist, the cufflinks visible.

The second was simpler: Remus looking up at him. Not at the camera. At him. Honest. Beautiful. 

The intimacy of it spoke for itself.

Anyone with functioning eyesight would understand exactly what sort of evening they were interrupting.

Which, admittedly, was part of the appeal.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he typed the caption:

À plus de nuits comme celle-ci, mon amour.

—toujours

To more nights like this, my love. Always.

Perfect. After that, he immediately called Evan.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Then connected. A very tired voice answered. "Reg, if this is about work—"

"It isn't."

A pause. That alone was concerning enough.

"Right."

"I don't have much time,” which was painfully true seeing how hard he was and how Remus's hands could no longer hold themselves back and were already hastily taking off his pants.

"That somehow makes this worse."

Regulus ignored him. “You are to prepare a statement confirming that I am, in fact, very happily in love with, yes, the one Remus Lupin.”

Somewhere on the other end of the line, Evan made a sound that suggested several future headaches arriving simultaneously.

"And that everyone else can fuck off."

"REGULUS ARCTURUS!"

"Goodnight, Evan."

He ended the call. Immediately. Before Evan could begin shouting.

His phone landed somewhere amongst the sheets. He didn't care where.

Because Remus was still there. Still watching him. Still smiling.

Still looking at him as though there wasn't a single place in the world he'd rather be.

And suddenly, after the flowers, the cufflinks, the dinner, the laughter, the family, and the endless conversations, Regulus found himself laughing too.

"What?" Remus asked.

"Nothing." The answer came easily.

For once, it was true.

Nothing was wrong.

Nothing needed fixing.

Nothing needed analysing.

And somewhere between the safety of their room and the certainty of Remus's arms around him, Regulus decided that perhaps the rest of the world could know it too.

Remus Lupin was his.

And Regulus Black had absolutely no intention of ever being quiet about it again.

He simply leaned forward and kissed him again. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Now, where were we, darling?”

The question had barely left him when Remus moved.

One second he was leaning over him. The next, the world tilted with startling efficiency as Remus caught him around the waist and reversed their positions in a single fluid motion.

A surprised laugh escaped him, followed immediately by a yelp as his back met the mattress.

“There,” Remus said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

Regulus looked up at him. At the familiar curls falling across his forehead. At the amusement dancing in those infuriatingly beautiful eyes. At the expression that suggested Remus had been waiting for an opportunity to do exactly that.

His heart gave a traitorous little stutter.

“Fuck yes!”