For the Music
James’ Pov.
When James went home the day after the whole fiasco at the bar, he knew Regulus wasn’t going to show up for their flat visit. He went anyway on the off-chance Regulus had decided to shock us all, but of course, at four in the afternoon in front of an apartment building in the 5th arrondissement, no one showed up. All because James had been reckless and stupid, because he acted on instinct instead of waiting until all the signs pointed to Regulus wanting to kiss him.
No, instead James had been selfish. He’d gone to kiss Regulus because he wanted to, not because there was anything that told him Regulus wanted to. Well, his gut, instinct and every sense he ever had was telling him that Regulus wanted to as well, but it seems he was wrong. Maybe he should stop being impulsive. As if he’d ever manage to do that.
James still let the hour pass by, while playing a stupid game on his phone, and when the clock stroke five pm, he decided to head home. And, well, halfway through his way to the hotel, he passed by a building with tainted windows that made him look at himself: he’d dressed up way too greatly to just spend the day in a hotel room, all alone.
No, if James Potter was ready to go out, to see people, then he was going to see people. One person standing him up shouldn’t be the total end of James’ afternoon. No, he was still going to have fun today, with someone who wouldn’t stand him up, mostly because they were too nice to do so.
And that’s how James ended up on Mary and Lily’s doormat at five thirty on the 20th of June. Logically, Mary would be at work, but it didn’t mean James couldn’t catch up with one of his closest friends.
“Hey! It’s so great to see you!” Lily greets as she opens the door. She’s wearing a white tube top with a black Adidas jacket over it and some blue jeans. She even has glasses covering her sage green eyes, something James never saw on her.
“Since when do you wear glasses?” he asks, and Lily quickly takes them off, as if she’d forgotten they were sitting on her nose.
“Ugh, it’s just for reading. You can’t mock me.” She warns, pointing at him and his gold rimmed round glasses, and yeah, it’s true. James is in no position to mock anyone over their eyesight.
He raises his arms up in surrender, “Not mocking, just surprised.” He defends, then smiles at her, “Are you busy?” he asks.
Lily looks back at the sofa, where James can see a few papers thrown around, an Ipad, and a pink sticky note pad, “I-Yeah, I guess.” She sighs, “I’m tired of studying anyway.”
James frowns, “Isn’t the uni year over?” he asks, and Lily can only shrug.
“Yeah, but I have to be ahead on my studies for next year.” She explains, “Starting out the year the way I did; starting a month too late without having read any of the material, it really set me back this year.” She says, and really, James understands how spending six months on a world wide trip before starting uni can be a step back.
“Ah yeah, that makes sense.” James nods, “You still passed your year though.” He says, and Lily grimaces.
“I passed the second semester, but the first was rough.” She chuckles gravelly, “Barely passed my midterms.”
It’s in conversations like those that James feels so far removed from the real world: grades, semesters, midterms and university have never been any concern to him. No, instead, James was worried about his knees, about how many laps he could run before being out of breath, and which dribbles he could muster up against who. What goes without saying, is that James is one lucky asshole.
“Anyway, you want to hang out?” Lily asks, changing the subject.
“Yep!” James grins, “Regulus stood me up earlier, and I didn’t want to spend the day alone.” He says, and quickly catches up on his words, “Not saying you’re my second choice!” he presses himself to say, “I’ve been wanting to hang out for a few days already.”
Lily arches an eyebrow at him, “Why didn’t you text if you wanted to hang out for a while?” she asks, and James just bites the inside of his cheek.
“I figured I’d just knock on your door…?” he smiles at her, and he knows it looks more like a grimace than anything else. She sighs at him, and walks towards a door on the left of the living room, where James presumes is her bedroom.
“Fine, let me change.” She says, and closes the door behind herself, despite the fact that James saw her naked on many, many occasions, “But text me next time. Cause you know, I have a life too. Sometimes I’m busy.” She shouts out over the door, and James chuckles to himself.
“Ah, but never too busy for me!” he grins to himself, and he can literally hear her eyeroll, “See, you’re hurrying up to get ready quick enough to hang out with me.”
“I can also take my sweet time.” Lily threatens, “Or throw you out of my house.”
James shakes his head, “You love me too much.”
Upon his words, Lily emerges from her room, now wearing a green backless shirt with her blue jeans from earlier, “I really don’t.” she sighs, “Let me brush my hair and I’m there.”
Surely enough, twenty minutes later, because Lily had to do her makeup too, they’re walking out of Lily’s building in the Quartier Latin, without any destination in mind.
“Why did Regulus stand you up anyway?” Lily asks with a smirk, “Finally did something to piss him off entirely?”
James sighs out, “Yep.” He chuckles, “I kissed him.” He says, and Lily’s head snaps towards him all at once.
“What!?” she shouts out, “And he let you?” she frowns at him, and it makes him think, once again, that Regulus and Lily are way closer than they used to be last year.
“I-no, I didn’t kiss him.” James corrects himself, images of the night before swimming through his mind, “But I almost did. I was like a breath away before he just…ran off.” He explains.
Lily is silent for a moment, then frowns, “Wait, you tried to kiss him without asking for consent?” she asks, and cocks her head, “You asked me like five times if I was sure the first time we kissed.” She reminds him, and he bursts out laughing.
“Okay, it wasn’t five times.” He chuckles, “I asked…kind of.” He grimaces, and upon Lily’s stare, he continues, “I told him to stop me if he didn’t want to. And well, he didn’t. Until he ran, that is.” He adds at the end for good measure.
“God.” Lily sighs, shaking her head, “You’re using the wrong approach entirely.” She accuses.
James stares at her, “Well, what’s the right approach?”
Lily shakes her head, “James, that’s Regulus. I…he’s gone through a lot, you know? All the stuff with his family, he took down a bloody cult when he was 16, I mean…that’s a lot of baggage for someone to have.” She preambles, and so far, James is already well aware. “And that means he’s going to avoid anyone who’s too nice to him. Because he’s not used to it.”
“Not necessarily.” James argues, “If he’s never been properly loved, which isn’t true because Sirius loves him more than anything, he’s going to latch onto whoever offers him that love like a moth to a flame. And, well, I love him, so.” He shrugs.
“Only you could love someone who hates you.” Lily chuckles, “All I’m saying is that before he latches onto that person who loves him, he’s going to need to make sure that person truly loves him.” She explains, “And, well, in trying to kiss him after, like two weeks of saying you’re friends, it’s going to make him think you’re only there for his body. And so, that trust you want to build in that ‘friendship’ of yours” she air-quotes as she speaks, “probably shattered when he saw that you didn’t want to be just his friend.”
“But he knew that from the beginning.” James counters, “I mean, he kissed me back in Istanbul, and, well…” he tries to recount his every interaction with Regulus since they saw each other again after nine months of no-contact, and, well. Maybe he repeatedly told him that they were friends that first time. God, he can never get things right, can he?
“Okay, maybe I kept saying I wanted to be friends…” he sighs, “But, I mean, he must know, there’s no way he thinks I don’t like him in that way.”
Lily shakes her head again, “No, James. Even if he knows that you like him, maybe all he wants out of this is a friendship. You’re manipulating him to get what you want, and, well, that’s not the James I know.” She accuses, and well. I feels like a slap in the face.
“I’m not, Lily, I swear.” He worries his lower lip between his teeth as he looks at her, “I really like him, and I told him I was attracted to him. And, I mean, he’s the one who kissed me last September, there’s no way he doesn’t like me even just a little bit.” James argues, then remembers something Regulus said the night before. Something that negates their entire conversation.
You don’t know how I’m feeling
It’s very true: even if he’d like to, James has no bloody idea how Regulus feels. And, well, it’s driving him mad.
“Anyway. He told me he didn’t want me assuming things about him. I’m sure speculating enters in that category as well.” He sighs, then turns to Lily, who nods.
“You’re right. Just, be careful with him, okay?” she asks him sweetly, “He’s softer than he looks.”
James smiles, “I know.” He nods, “Isn’t he supposed to come by your flat tonight? It’s Friday.” He asks, remembering what Lily had told him the night he arrived in Paris.
“Not tonight.” She shakes her head, “We’re seeing him and his friends tomorrow for la Fête de la Musique.” She explains, and James cocks his head.
“Fête de la musique?” he repeats, “What’s that?”
Lily smiles, “It’s a celebration for music. It’s a big thing here: on the 21st of June, every musician, whether it be jazz, pop, rap or rock come out onto the street and play. My friend Frank from school told me that it’s, like, one of the best days of the year. I want to have that experience.” She grins.
Admittedly, it sounds amazing to James, who turns to look at her, “Any way I can join in?” he asks her. Live music for free everywhere in the city. Sounds like a bloody dream. James knows that Sirius would dig that so bad.
“Yeah, sure. As long as you don’t bother Reg too much.” She warns, and James chuckles.
“Fine, fine, I won’t.” he grins. Silence settles for a second, during which Lily bites her lips with a worried air, one James recognises from when they were dating: she has something embarrassing or awkward to say. “What is it?” he prompts her, because he knows that’s all the push she needs to talk.
Lily sighs, “I…Well, we’re doing this thing with Mary…” she starts and visibly cringes, which lets James know that this ought to be good, “I should tell you, because you know us both, and you’re going to think it’s weird if you don’t know beforehand, so yeah, you show know” she rambles, and James puts an end to it.
“What is it?” he asks with a grin, and watches as Lily’s shoulders drop.
“We’re fake dating. With Mary. Acting like we’re a couple.” She says briefly, and it makes James smile at her curiously.
“I-why? Lils have you never watched any movie with a fake dating trope?” he asks, because he knows for a fact that her favourite movie growing up was All Of The Boys I Loved Before, which is the classic fake dating trope movie. “You know it always ends with both parties falling in love.” He grins at her and tries to picture it. Lily Evans and Mary Macdonald. The ginger green-eyed countryside girl who wants to be a lawyer with the small black city girl who’s into fashion. It makes total sense. Lily and Mary are amazing as best friends, but they’d be invincible as a couple. Yeah, James totally sees it.
“Ugh, I know.” Lily groans, “I got myself into some deep shit.”
James laughs out loud, “Aw, Lils. That’s sweet.” He grins at her, “Do you like her like that then?” he asks, and he thinks distantly that he didn’t know Lily even liked girls at all, but well. People change, maybe this is new to her as well.
“No!” Lily says way too quickly, and she doesn’t even need to look at James’ knowing stare to elaborate, “I mean, maybe? I don’t know.” She whines, sounding more freaked out than she ever was regarding James. That doesn’t hurt his ego whatsoever.
“It’s just that I keep looking at her sometimes.” She admits, looking down at her shoes. James has no idea where they are: they’ve been walking aimlessly for while now, but the buildings are pretty. “Like, I, well, I kissed her the other day, but, like it was to make some creep go away, anyway, it was justified.” She explains, and James knows not to press on that subject, “But after I kissed her, I really wanted to do it again.” Lily says, and looks at James with despair in her eyes, and he knows then, that she’s really freaking out. That it’s really a load on her mind.
“It’s okay, Lils, do you know how many people fall in love with their best friends? Just look at Remus and Sirius, they were best friends and now, they’re happier than ever. You’re allowed to feel however you feel for her.” He smiles at her, and watches as she blushes a little. She’s always been beautiful, James always thought so, even when he didn’t know her name yet. And, well, if he didn’t like some raven haired man, he knows he would still love her.
“I know, but Mary is straight.” Lily declares simply, and well. That must be tough, “And, I can’t really do anything about it when I don’t have it figured out, you know? I just…that’s really new to me. I don’t know how to feel and what to do about it.” She sighs with a shrug, and James wraps an arm around her shoulders.
“You’ll figure it out. And no matter what, you know that Mary will always be there for you. You never have to worry about that.” He says with a smile as she settles against his side.
“Yeah, I know.” She smiles back at him, “You’re coming tomorrow then?”
James nods, “Yeah. I’m not missing out on a city-wide party.”
“Try country wide.” She says gently, “Make sure to apologise to Regulus tomorrow, yeah?”
“I will.”
____________
The next day, James is more than ready. It’s Saturday, on the 21st of June, and it’s finally summer. But more than that, it’s la Fête de la Musique today. Which means James is about to be wasted in the streets of Paris with his friends while listening to music at every street corner.
He puts on a white shirt with blue jeans and a black jacket over it with a spiderman embroidered on it, a gift from Remus, his white Nikes and heads to the girls’ flat around seven at night. As he walks from Boulogne-Billancourt where his hotel is to the Quartier Latin, he hears the music already, coming from bars, speakers randomly set up on the street, or the occasional live band sitting on the sidewalks. There’s more people outside than usual, and the general ambiance smells like summer, friendship and most of all, music. Oh, if Remus, Sirius, Marlene and Dorcas had been there, they could have recreated a musical moment like they had last September in Salzburg. They could’ve set up their instruments on a street corner, used some borrowed amp and an old mic and sang all night, making people dance and chant along to the music.
Sometimes, James misses his friends more than usually. But it’s fine, he thinks. He’s going to see his other friends, something he didn’t have back in Manchester.
Still, he wishes he had Sirius and Remus by his side. You don’t go seven years being best friends with someone, and seeing them everyday without missing them when you’re separated.
And don’t even let him think about Peter. Because Peter was his oldest friend, and he chose bigotry and some girl he barely knew over his best friends. Because he decided to become and asshole and tainted the image James had of his childhood best friend. And despite it all, James misses him.
Anyway. As he reaches the Quartier Latin, and Lily and Mary’s flat, it’s already 7:3O, and the city is already partying. If it’s like this already, he can’t imagine how it will be later in the night. Because one thing about French people he realised early, is that a party doesn’t truly start before midnight for them anyway.
He greets them as he enters the flat, and is relieved to see that Regulus, Barty and Evan aren’t there yet. He would have felt weird if everyone was waiting on him. There, with only Mary and Lily, who are both wearing glittering tank tops, flowy pants and a lot more makeup than they used to wear when they were going out last year, he learns why they decided to fake date.
“That David guy sounds horrible.” James frowns when Mary is done, “And he’s really your boss?”
Mary nods, “Yup. So professional, don’t you think? Asking out his employee.” She asks sarcastically.
“Super professional, yeah.” James rolls his eyes, “You know, I never think of this kind of thing. Like, worrying for your career because you’re turning down someone? It’s insane to me.”
“And yet it happens to like, a lot of women. Actually, to most of them.” Lily underlines. She’s sitting on the arm of the armchair Mary is in, while petting Mary’s hair absent mindedly. It looks awfully domestic, and James is willing to bet they’ll be a couple in less than three months. Both of them are awfully fierce: when they want something, they get it, no matter what.
“Maybe telling him I was in a relationship wasn’t the most feminist thing I could’ve done, but I love this job too much to risk it.” Mary sighs, and upon Lily’s incredulous stare, she corrects herself, “Okay, I don’t love this job, but if I get fired, I won’t have to opportunity to rise up to a rank. So, really, it’s the best option.”
“Right…” James nods, “And why are you guys pretending to be a couple tonight?” he asks, because it still makes zero sense to him.
Lily smiles sheepishly, “Two reasons. First, I have my sister’s wedding next weekend, and since we’re going together as a couple, we kind of want to practice, in a way?” she says, then winces as both James and Mary snort, “Like, so that we’re comfortable being close.” She chuckles as she justifies herself, “Because, well, we’re not that used to cuddling and all.”
“That’s true.” Mary nods, making Lily’s hand that is still in her hair move as well, “We don’t really hug a lot. And, well, if we’re going to pass as a couple, we’re going to have to get past that.” She shrugs, and James knows damn well those are just excuses. The same excuses Remus and Sirius used to say to spend time on one on one back in Hogwin, when they both had a stupid crush on the other, and both were too stupid to realise it, or even just say anything about it. As if James would ever believe Sirius was genuinely joining Remus to study. Please.
“Okay, that kind of makes sense.” He nods, looking at Lily with a look on his face that says he isn’t buying it one percent. Lily just narrows her eyes at him mockingly, and he smiles, “What’s the second reason?”
At that, Lily grins more broadly, “Oh the second reason is a genius plan of mine.” She says, and Mary looks over her shoulder at her with a soft smile. “See, I invited Frank, from school, to join us. And, well, he’s a bit…he likes women, I’ll say.” She tries, and Mary snorts.
“He’s a player. But like, not in a sexual way. He just really wants a girlfriend.” Mary says, and gives the lead back to Lily.
“And I also invited our friend from school, Alice, who should be getting there any minute now. And, well, she said she thought he was cute.” Lily smirks in a mischievous way James had missed a lot.
“Oh my, you two are onto some matchmaking business.” He exclaims, and both girls look at each other knowingly.
“They’d be so cute together!” Lily grins.
“Really, they’re two faces of the same coin. I’d totally see them together.” Mary nods with a smile matching Lily’s. Yet, there’s still something James doesn’t understand.
“What does you two being together have to do with it anyway?” he asks, and Lily chuckles.
“Well, Frank never met Mary. And I want him to be interested in Alice, not her.”
“So, since I’m the most beautiful girl any man is every going to hope to meet,” Mary starts, making both James and Lily shake their heads fondly, “He’s got to think I’m taken. So that he talks it up with his future wife.”
“We’re very invested in Frank and Alice possible future relation.” Lily nods solemnly, when someone knocks at the door. Being closest to the door, James opens it, and finds a small girl with dark brown straight hair and slightly tanned skin. She kind of looks like some of James’ cousins, and he thinks she’s probably the infamous Alice.
“Hi, I’m James, come in.” he grins, and immediately, both girls jump on their feet to hug her. Apparently, Alice used to live in the dorm right next door to theirs and they used to have loads of parties together, with Lily, Mary, Marlene and Alice’s friends in their common room in Rowena. And now, it’s been over a year since they’ve seen each other.
Not long after, someone knocks again, and James finds himself face to face with Regulus, Barty and Evan, who are all looking at him judgingly.
Regulus sighs first, “Lily said you’d be here. I guess my prayers were not answered.”
“What prayers?” James frowns at a loss for words. He hasn’t really paid much attention to what he was saying, too busy looking at him. Apparently, when Regulus Black is going out, it means a tight fitted black dress shirt with black slacks and a black tie. James doesn’t know if he is allergic to something called colour, but it’s not like he’ll complain: Regulus looks heavenly, and if James could ever be so lucky to call him his, well. He’d be the happiest man on earth.
“Prayers for you not to be there.” Regulus mumbles, then enters the flat, pushing past him. James looks after him like a lost puppy, until he feels a presence close to him.
“Don’t bother him, Pot.” Barty Crouch Jr spits at him, whom James finds is staring at him menacingly from up close. James doesn’t have time to answer or even realise what he just said until Evan Rosier steps in.
“Or at least apologise.” He advices with a glare that has James thinking that maybe you have to be scary to be friends with Regulus. Still, it seems out of character for Regulus to share gossip with his friends, even less when he’d be ashamed of people finding out. Which James is certain he is: Regulus would never let people know he likes a Potter. He doesn’t even let James know.
“Wait, what did he tell you? Reg isn’t a gossip.” He frowns at them in curiosity, and it seems Barty has gotten bored because he leaves already to join Regulus’ side. Evan, however, throws James a levelling glance.
“He isn’t. He hasn’t said anything, but we know he’s cross with you.” He explains, then smirks slightly, “Whatever you did, apologise. Unless you’d like to see what happens when you piss off Regulus Black?” he asks, and James has every reason to be scared. He absolutely does not want to know.
He nods at Evan, “I’ll apologise. Thanks, mate.” He smiles at him, simply because he’s a pathological people pleaser and can’t bear to have people be even slightly irritated at him. That’s why, thirty minutes later, when Frank Longbottom, Lily’s friend, has finally joined them, and they walk out onto the streets of Paris, James tries to seek out Regulus. As they listen to some group do a cover of ‘Boys don’t cry’ by the Cure just outside of the Quartier Latin, Regulus is enhanced in a conversation with Lily and Mary, who are hanging off each other’s arms.
From where James is standing, in between Evan and Barty who seem to be using him as some sort of shield or barrier since they got here, Regulus looks beautiful. It’s getting annoying, really: he always looks good; whether it be in hotels all over Europe last year, morning bleary and snoring over eggs, or under the soft light of a streetlamp outside of a bar in Paris, a breath away from James’ lips. He always looks heavenly, with effortless elegance and faultless manners, like a fallen angel, like the definition of beauty.
Now, he just needs to find an opportunity to talk to him. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, he never does anyway, but he knows he has to apologise. Regulus never said that he was even remotely attracted to James, and it’s not because James thinks he knows better that he really does. Even if Regulus always looks at him longer than anyone who isn’t attracted to someone should, even if he waited until the last moment to push James off, even if he kissed James last year.
It’s twenty minutes later that he finds a window: they moved from the Quartier Latin and are now walking towards Montmartre, where a lot of the festivities are usually held. They’ll go back to the Champs Elysées around midnight, when the fireworks will go off, but now, as they take on the endless stairs to Montmartre, Regulus is finally alone, looking around himself the way locals do: as if the beauty of Paris was the most usual thing in the world. Lily and Mary are walking side by side, hand in hand, giggling and talking together, looking like every honeymooned couple does. James wonders how long it’ll take them to figure it out.
On the other hand, there are two people who figured it out quickly: Frank and Alice, who met like an hour ago, are staring at each other hungrily, both with red lips and the look of a horny person: they were making out not ten minutes ago, but had to stop to walk up the stairs. James is glad true romance isn’t lost.
Seizing his chance, James walks up towards Regulus, who visibly stiffens as he approaches. If Regulus is just nervous, or if he actually hates James’ guts beyond repair, that James doesn’t know, but he’ll figure it out. He thinks. Hopefully.
“Hey.” James smiles at him as he reaches his level, and Regulus doesn’t even turn to look at him. Alright, that James can work with, “Are you having fun? Or is the music hurting your classical trained ears?” he asks with a grin, and catches Regulus’ eyebrows going slightly up: an acknowledgement of his words.
James sighs. Playing it nonchalant isn’t going to work. He should’ve known, Regulus isn’t one to ignore stuff but rather throwing people’s mistakes back in their faces.
“Look, Regulus, I’m sorry for the other night.” He starts, and it grants him a glance. Regulus’ eyes are apprehensive, and maybe a little daring. James loves it. “I shouldn’t have tried anything with you, especially not since you didn’t tell me to.” He apologises, though his stubbornness takes over, “But, like, you didn’t tell me to stop either.”
“You’ve got some nerve.” Regulus rolls his eyes, “You’re lucky I didn’t knee you.”
James presses his lips together in an awkward smile, “Well, now I know. Not trying anything with you again.” He sighs, “A loss, truly.”
A beat passes until Regulus chuckles, a sound James is decidedly not used to. “You know what’s funny? It’s that like, right before you tried to kiss me, I said that you probably thought every gay man was obsessed with you. You really proved me right.” He shakes his head in a fondly exasperated sort of way that James has absolutely never seen on his face. It has no business making James’ heart flutter the way it does.
“That’s where you’re wrong though, Regulus.” James smirks, knowing it’ll anger Regulus, “I don’t think every gay man is obsessed with me. I think you could be though.”
Regulus scoffs, “Please. As if I’d ever stoop so low to be obsessed with anyone, let alone you, Potter.”
“You’re stooping low enough to talk to me.” James grin, “You wouldn’t have done that last year.”
“You haven’t given me a choice.” Regulus raises his eyebrows at James, who smirks.
“Since when do you need people to give you a choice?” he asks, then chuckles, “You single handedly took down a cult from the inside, and you think I’d buy that you’re talking to me because you’re forced to do it?” he raises an eyebrow, and he can see Regulus blush slightly. “You don’t do anything unless you want to. It’s fucking badass, if you ask me, but it also means that you’re here by choice.” He explains, and watches as Regulus looks back at the stairs in front of him, defeated.
James is feeling admittedly a little smug, and he feels Regulus’ defences weakening: maybe, he’ll finally get his head out of his arse and just acknowledge that he likes James back. For now, though, James’ ego is a little touched: is he really that much out of Regulus’ league? He knew, to a certain extent, that their beauties were not the same, that where he was all unfiltered wit and boisterous charm, Regulus was poised and reserved grace, all sharp edges with a soft interior that only a select number of people get to experience – James only ever saw glimpses of it with Pandora, Dorcas and Sirius – but he didn’t think that Regulus would see it as incompatible.
Regulus’ voice brings him back from his thoughts, “You’re right. The music does hurt my ears.” He answers to James’ earlier question, and it takes him a minute to realise what he’s talking about. It makes James laugh.
“Never thought I’d hear you admit that I’m right.”
“Don’t get used to it.” Regulus answers, and James sees a slight smile on his face. He doesn’t want to scream victory too soon, but it feels like Regulus decided to drop the charade. Is he going to finally admit he likes James back? God, James wishes he would. But he doesn’t want him to stop being mean either, because it kind of gets him going. It’s a struggle.
“You think you can do better than them, then?” James asks, “You’d be better on the violin?”
“It’s not the same style. It’s incomparable.” Regulus explains sternly, but James feels like this is one of Regulus’ preferred subject, if only from the way his eyes soften when he thinks about music, “I play classical music. What everyone plays in the city tonight is either pop, rock or jazz.”
“You forgot to mention the rappers.” James chuckles, thinking back to the group of kids they passed by earlier who couldn’t have been older than fifteen, who were rapping near Châtelet.
“Call me a snob, but I don’t consider this music.” Regulus insults, and it makes James laugh.
“You are such a snob.” He chuckles, “I bet you listen to the occasional rap song, though.” He says, and Regulus shrugs with a small blush on his cheeks.
“US rap, yes. I was talking about French rap.” He explains, and James nods, “I don’t understand half the words they use, and French is my first language.”
James smirks, “Are you too old to understand teenage slang?” he teases, and Regulus rolls his eyes.
“At least I don’t live in a country I don’t speak the language of.”
“Excuse me, Mr I’m-Trilingual-And-I-Boast-About-It” James says, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Quadrilingual actually.” Regulus corrects, and upon James’ eyebrows raise, he elaborates, “English, French, Latin and Ancient Greek.” He says, and it makes James chuckle again.
“Oh, okay, so two actual languages and two dead ones!” he nods mockingly, “I see, very useful.” He knew he and Sirius had had to learn Latin as kids, but Ancient Greek? It must’ve been something only Regulus had to do. Or something Sirius was too much of a rebel to do.
“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes, “Not like I chose to learn them.” He says, but doesn’t develop. “You can’t judge me anyway, you only speak one language.”
James smiles to himself. Regulus has underestimated him, for some reason, and it never fails to make James feel better about himself when he can prove to people that no, he isn’t just some football jockey, but an actually smart guy who chose to pursue football because it’s his passion.
“I don’t. I speak English, Parsi and Spanish.” He explains with a grin, watching as Regulus realises his mistake.
“I knew your family was from India, but I didn’t know you spoke Parsi. My mistake.” He says in what James is sure he thinks is an apology, and James nods.
“Yeah, well, I don’t really talk about it.” James shrugs, and it’s right then, that they finally emerge onto Montmartre, where the sound of basses and cymbals gets louder, and James can recognise the intro of ‘Can’t hold us’ by Macklemore, and from experience, he knows that there is probably about fifty teenagers jumping up and down to the song, shouting out grumbled out lyrics as if they have any idea what they’re saying.
“God, I love this song.” James grins, and Regulus shakes his head.
“Of course you would.” He smiles, and James is certain that this is his new favourite thing. Although, it’s clear that his smile is destined for James, and not for the music, nor for the bunch of teenagers jumping up and down to the beat of the song.
“You hate it.” James grins.
Regulus shakes his head, still looking at the group of people, “I don’t, it’s not my style is all.” He says, still with a melancholic look on his face, “They sure look like they’re having fun.” He sighs with a smile, his eyes strained on the dancing teenagers, happy and free, jumping and throwing booze around like nothing matters. James thinks back to the many, many parties he’s been to with just this vibe, and he wonders if Regulus feels like he missed out on something.
Because back in Hogwins, Regulus was never, ever privy to those parties; his mates, Crouch and Rosier, always went, but Regulus himself didn’t. Sirius always said that he was too much of a stuck up to show, but James thinks there’s something else. And either way, it can’t feel good to watch people be happy and carefree when you’ve never got the chance to be.
“They are.” James answers easily, “Do you want to join them?” he asks with a grin, because there is simply no way Regulus would want to.
He scoffs, “No way. I’m not fifteen.” He rolls his eyes, and James eyes him knowingly.
“No, you’re seventeen. Not that much older, really.” In less than a month now, Regulus will turn seventeen, but for now, he’s just as allowed to dance around as those other seventeen-year-olds.
Regulus bites his lip, “Forgot. Still, I’m too old for that.” He says, but it’s to no avail. James already made up his mind. It’s the day for Music, and there is no way they won’t dance today.
“There’s no age for dancing.” He grins at Regulus, then brings him into some other crowd – which isn’t hard, the whole street is filled with different crowds so big they merge – where they are playing Pitbull’s Timber.
“What are you-” he asks James then cuts himself as James starts to sing at the top of his lungs and jump to the beat of the song. “If you think I’m going to dance to that-” he starts again, but this time, it’s James who stops him.
“Why not!” James shouts, “No one cares, it’s just some bits of fun!” he says as he brings his arms up to match the crowd around him. Regulus looks warily around himself, at the mass of sweaty, moving bodies, at the colour of girl’s tops merging together, at boys shouting without a care in the world, and James can see his opinion waver.
“Please, Reg, just let yourself have this.” He tries, taking Regulus’ hands in his own, “Imagine waking up one day at sixty and thinking ‘fuck, I never danced when I was young enough to do so’” he argues and grins, “You’re young! It won’t last forever, make use of it now!”
Regulus continues to stare at James, and even if he doesn’t know what Regulus is looking for, he lets him stare for as long as he wants or needs. “I-” he starts, then sighs as the song merges to Icona Pop’s ‘I love it’. “Fine. But I’m doing it against my better judgement.”
Immediately, James grins more broadly than ever. Regulus has agreed to dance like an idiot to one of the most 2010’s pop sounding song ever. That’s not something that happens everyday.
“You’re so not going to regret it.” James beams and bellows the lyrics as the song properly starts. He couldn’t count the number of times he and Sirius danced and screamed to this song, but it’s definitely one of the songs that would define James’ teenage years.
“I got this feeling on the summer day when you were gone!” James shouts at the crowd, and is more surprised than ever when Regulus continues the next line, looking right at James.
“I crashed my car into the bridge I watched I let it burn!” Regulus screams back, with an annoyingly good sounding voice.
“I threw your shit into a bag and pushed it down the stairs!” James continues with a shit eating grin, which only grows when Regulus responds with the next line. They look at each other in anticipation when the chorus starts, when they shout it out together jumping up and down along with the rest of the crowd. Well, James is jumping: it seems singing isn’t too derogatory to Regulus, but jumping is where he draws the line.
“I DON’T CARE, I LOVE IT!” they both bellow, staring at each other with grins to match. Regulus is sporting an expression that James has never seen before: it’s akin to freedom, and looks a little like fun. Really, it’s happiness. It’s being seventeen in Paris on the 21st of June.
James is proud to have been the one to bring that out in Regulus, and he promises himself one thing right then: to make Regulus feel more and more alive for as long as he can.
___________
Barty’s Pov
When James leaves his position of shield in between him and Evan, all panic buttons go off in Barty’s mind. He absolutely cannot be alone with Evan right now, and even if he knows, to some extent, that he can’t ignore his best friend forever, some distance would be appreciated. But how can anyone ask for space without giving any explanation?
And knowing Evan, as chill as he looks, he’d freak out and think that he did something wrong if Barty asked to put some distance between them. So, when James leaves to bother Regulus, Barty has no choice but to let Evan spark up some discussion between them. Even if he doesn’t want him to.
“When do you think Potter’s going to give up on Reg?” Evan asks playfully, and it’s enough to make him panic. God, he’s really got to get a grip.
“Uh, I, well, he’s never been known to know when to give up, is he? Ha…” Barty chuckles awkwardly, and he can hear Evan’s judgy raise of eyebrow.
Barty doesn’t know what is happening to him. Ever since the last morning, when he felt like…like being in relationship with him, he’s had truly horrifying thoughts. Thoughts he’d never thought he’d get in his life.
He, well, he imagined himself kissing Evan. Sweetly. Not as a preamble to sex, or to piss someone off, but just kissing him. They were playing video games in Regulus’ flat, and Evan won a round of Mario Kart against Regulus, and Barty had had the sudden urge to kiss him sweetly as a congrats.
He ended up exiling himself in the kitchen for half an hour.
The worse is that these thoughts never leave him alone. It’s been less than 48 hours since he realised that no, this wasn’t just sex for him and that yes, he was in love with his best friend, something he didn’t even think he could ever be able to do, and it’s like Barty’s entire belief system transformed.
Where Evan’s touches used to be innocent or teasy, they feel heavy and scary now. They feel like something that Barty desperately needs and wants, but can also break him so, so easily. Where his smiles were just smiles, they’re now Barty’s reason to wake up in the morning. Where he used to see him as his mate he shagged sometimes, he now sees him as someone he always wants around.
All of this to say that Barty has now disgusting, loving feelings that are anything but cool, for someone who would never want him, and that he’s freaking out anytime he gets so much as alone in Evan’s presence.
“Why are you all awkward?” Evan raises an eyebrow at him judgingly, “I swear you’ve been all weird since yesterday.” He pinpoints, then narrows his eyes, “Are you sick?”
“No.” Barty shakes his head automatically and shushes the voice in his head that tells him that aw, Evan is so cute, taking care of him and all.
“Then what is it?” Evan asks with a lost expression that has no business looking as good as it does. Barty hates him. Today, for the Fête de la Musique, Evan decided to dress up a bit: he’s wearing a fitted white tank top that clings to his pecs in a way that makes Barty want to do unholy things and the loosest, baggiest pair of dark grey jeans. He put his blonde braids in a ponytail, and has his trademark necklaces around his neck: a beer cap he hooked around a chain, and a rock thing he says was given to him by a wizard in Scotland. Barty never said he wasn’t weird. But he looks hot, so.
“Nothing, why would there be anything at all, anyway?” Barty asks, going for a confused expression, but still feels his blood rushing to his cheeks. He looks anywhere but at Evan, who is himself smirking smugly.
“So…you were just checking me out for like a full minute for nothing?” he asks with a mocking grin, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he asks, and Barty splutters. That didn’t use to happen to him before. He absolutely has to get a grip.
“Wasn’t.” Barty mumbles, looking at the stairs in front of him.
Evan frowns, “Is that what this is? You want to fuck?” he asks, “That why you’ve been all weird since yesterday?”
Desperately so, Barty thinks, but also, having sex with Evan wouldn’t be smart right now. He’d probably do something stupid, like tell him he loves him, or come from a kiss alone.
“No, it’s not that.” He rolls his eyes, “Stop guessing.”
Of course, he doesn’t realise his mistake until Evan bites his lip, looking at him, “So there is something.” He nods to himself, and when Barty rolls his eyes again, he grabs his shoulder.
This simple touch makes Barty jump. Like, literally jump. It’s just that Evan’s touch is always warm, always inviting and welcoming. Something Barty has become addicted to. And now, he wants to hug Evan. He doesn’t think they’ve ever hugged.
“Wow, hey, Bart, what’s going on?” Evan frowns, “You flinched. You never flinch.” He repeats with his brows furrowed, and it hits Barty perhaps a little too late that Evan’s voice is laced with hurt.
Barty doesn’t answer, simply because if he speaks he might blurt out something he shouldn’t. He’s kind of a mess, really. Well, he’s never claimed to be someone stable. Good thing Evan isn’t stable either.
“Is it the sex?” Evan asks, “Like, do you want to stop but don’t know how to say it?” he inquires, as if Barty would ever be stupid enough to deny either of them of such a pleasure. Both of them know it: their sex is phenomenal, and they’ll never, ever manage to have it that good with anyone else.
He almost answers right then, but he thinks. Could he even be able to have sex with Evan now that he knows he wants more? Now that he knows he’d smash his own head if Evan ever went out with anyone other?
“I-I don’t know.” He stutters, and sees Evan’s eyes turn from incomprehension to hurt and finally, to determination. It’s the same eyes Evan has when he and Barty found themselves alone in the dorm, or in an empty corridor, or in an empty classroom. The eyes that mean that what’s about to happen isn’t meant for kids.
With two swift strides, Evan crowds Barty against the wall in the middle of the stairs, and starts to mouth at Barty’s neck. In instants, Barty is hard. It’s just that Evan is much taller than Barty, and having him bend down to kiss Barty’s neck is hot. Also, the simple feeling of Evan’s tongue on his neck is heavenly, and even more so with Barty’s newfound feelings.
“You don’t want to stop at all.” Evan smirks before licking at his neck. Barty’s breath stutters in his throat, and if there wasn’t this many people in the streets right now, he would’ve blown Evan. He’s been known to be weird, but he’s not an exhibitionist. Not yet, anyway.
“I don’t.” Barty sighs when Evan licks over his Adam’s apple. He rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes, fisting Evan’s waist to keep him close. If there’s one thing Evan knows how to do, it’s to make people feel good with not much. With only his mouth, Barty is able to see stars.
With a smack, Evan detaches himself from Barty’s neck and looks down at him with a worried face, “Then what’s going on. Tell me.” He orders, and really, Barty shouldn’t find it as hot as he does, but well.
He looks up at Evan, at his dark eyes and skin, contrasting with his white shirt and blonde hair, at his sharp features, sharp jawline and almond eyes, and most of all, at his full lips that are really just there, ready for Barty to kiss. And, well, he just spent 48 hours wondering how his lips felt on his own, and that’s just too damn much.
That’s why he moves his right hand up to fist Evan’s silver necklace, pushes himself on his tiptoes and finally kisses him square on the lips.
Right away, Evan reciprocates the kiss, pushing just as hard as Barty and prying his lips open to slip his tongue inside, deepening the kiss and making it just as beautiful and hot as Barty dreamed it would be. Barty feels hands on his cheeks drawing him closer, and it feels amazing. Evan is a natural, it seems: his kissing technique is so, so good that Barty just never wants to stop. They make out hungrily for as long as they do (Barty didn’t count, too focused in their kiss) and when they draw back, they take their breath with their foreheads touching.
“Fuck, what-what’s going on, Barty?” Evan asks, with dilated pupils and a hopeful face, and it makes Barty think that maybe it isn’t over. Maybe Evan wants him the way Barty wants him too.
“I like you.” Barty blurts out, “Fucking is fun, but what if we did it for real?” he suggests, but it’s plain that he wasn’t clear enough, seeing how Evan’s eyes narrow.
“I-seemed pretty real to me for the last year, actually.” He says, and Barty chuckles nervously. There’s a good chance he’s about to live the most awkward moment of his life, but he powers through anyway.
“No, I meant, actually do this. Like, not just sex, but the whole deal.” Barty explains, “Because I think I caught feelings, like an idiot, so…yeah.” He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, and Evan chuckles.
“Didn’t think you wanted a relationship.” He remarks, and Barty shrugs.
“If that’s how you want to call it.”
Evan stares at him, then nods, “I caught feelings too. I’m down.” He grins, and it makes Barty’s everything light up. “We’ll just be a couple of idiots.”
“That sounds perfect.” Barty grins, then kisses Evan again, just because he can, “I think I’m in love with you, though.”
“I’m in love with you too.” Evan grins, “Been a while, really.”
Barty frowns, “Since when?” he asks, but in reality, he doesn’t care: he just managed to admit that he had feelings, and nothing bad happened. No, instead, Evan kissed him and told him he loved him too. What is there better to hope?
“You don’t need to know, really.” Evan chuckles, then kisses Barty again. It seems he wasn’t the only one waiting to finally do it, it seems.
A minute or ten later, when they separate and walk back to their group, both of them stop in their tracks staring at the unbelievable scene in front of them.
“Is that-“ Evan starts with a dropped jaw.
“Yep.” Barty nods. In a crowd of dancing bodies are Regulus Black and James Potter shouting and dancing together with huge grins on their faces. That’s one thing that was not on Barty’s bingo.
“Jesus.” Evan swears, “I knew Reg liked him, but damn. Street dancing?”
“I know.” Barty agrees, “Potter’s got some influence on him.”
“How long until they grab each other’s arses?” Evan asks with a grin, and Barty smirks at him.
“Give them five days.” He chuckles, “Reggie will come home proper fucked, believe me.”