breath of life

---

Summer break had come and gone in a relatively uneventful fashion for most Hogwarts students. The thrill of returning to the castle, reuniting with friends, and diving back into the routine of spells and potions filled the air. For Regulus Black, however, the months spent at Grimmauld Place had been anything but ordinary—at least, internally.

Sirius was no longer there. His older brother, who had once been a shield against the family’s suffocating expectations, had been officially disowned after running away. And with him went any remnants of protection Regulus might have had within the oppressive walls of the Black household. The summer had been spent under the strict watch of his parents, weighed down by their expectations, and even more so by the consequences of failing to meet them.

Grimmauld Place, already steeped in a naturally oppressive atmosphere, seemed to close in further around him. Where once there had been shouting, now there were raised wands. The punishments had changed. They were no longer merely words; now, they were spells that inflicted invisible but unforgettable pain. The Cruciatus Curse became his mother’s chosen method of “correction,” as she coldly phrased it. Any misstep, any behaviour that deviated from the pristine Black standards, was enough to trigger the punishment.

On the train back to Hogwarts, Regulus sat in near silence for most of the journey, his gaze fixed on the scenery rushing past the window. He had always been introspective, but there was something darker, heavier, in his expression now.

Upon arriving at the castle, the familiar walls and the faint scent of old parchment offered a brief moment of respite. Hogwarts was, at least, a place where he could escape the oppressive rules of his family—though the shadow of his surname still lingered, hovering as a constant reminder of who he was supposed to be.

But this time, things felt different. Regulus no longer felt like the same boy who had boarded the train a year earlier. The invisible scars from the summer weren’t something he could easily leave behind. They clung to him, shaping his thoughts and making him more reserved, more cautious about whom he allowed to get close.

Entering the Slytherin common room, Regulus found it relatively empty. Evan and Barty greeted him with smiles, already settled on the furthest sofas. They were chatting about something trivial—likely professors or another student’s antics—but Regulus only gave them a brief nod before retreating. Not because he didn’t appreciate them, but because the ability to connect felt harder now, as though a part of him remained trapped in Grimmauld Place.

Deep down, Regulus knew this year at Hogwarts would be different. He just wasn’t certain how much that difference would mean.

---

Pandora Lovegood had become an unexpectedly significant connection. Since their first casual meeting in the library, the Ravenclaw girl seemed to have a knack for appearing precisely when Regulus needed either a distraction or a conversation that let him escape the heavy expectations of his family name.

She wasn’t the type to be easily deterred, and her natural curiosity about everything around her made it difficult to keep her at arm’s length. If Pandora noticed that Regulus was being evasive or reserved, she would simply offer a peculiar observation or an utterly unconventional perspective that managed to make him laugh—often against his will.

By the third or fourth time they crossed paths, Regulus had already accepted that Pandora wasn’t merely a temporary visitor in his life. When he hesitated to sit with Evan and Barty during a study break, Pandora had casually appeared with her books and thrown herself onto the sofa as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Hope you lot don’t mind,” she said cheerfully, entirely ignoring the confused looks from Evan and Barty. “The Ravenclaw corner is... boring. Too much arithmetic, not enough excitement.”

Barty raised an eyebrow. “And you thought Slytherin would be the place brimming with excitement?”

Pandora shrugged with a grin that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing. “You lot have your own kind of charm. Besides, Regulus is here. I enjoy talking with him.”

Evan shot an almost accusatory—but playful—look at Regulus. “You recruited a Ravenclaw into our group and didn’t tell us?”

Regulus gave a small shrug, attempting to hide the hint of a smile. “I didn’t recruit anyone. She invited herself.”

“Exactly,” Pandora confirmed, picking up a book and flipping it open as though the discussion was already settled. “Now we’re all friends, and that’s that.”

From that moment on, Pandora began spending more time with them, integrating so naturally that within weeks it felt as though she had always been part of the group. While Barty enjoyed teasing her, she always had quick and witty responses that left him momentarily speechless. Evan, on the other hand, seemed to view Pandora as an unexpected source of amusement, someone who could lighten the often serious tone of their conversations.

For Regulus, Pandora was a balance. She never pressured him, never judged him, but was always there—offering both her company and her uniquely whimsical way of seeing the world. With her, he felt there was a space where he could breathe a little more freely, even if the shadows of his life never fully disappeared.

---

As months went by, Regulus found his friendships expanding in ways he had never anticipated. Pandora’s impact on the group had been immediate, bringing a sense of levity that contrasted with the often intense dynamics cultivated within Slytherin. But the unexpected came through Dorcas Meadowes.

Dorcas had always shared a close bond with Marlene McKinnon, a Gryffindor student who, in turn, was a good friend of James Potter. It was inevitable that, occasionally, their social circles would cross—first through casual encounters in the corridors, then through impromptu gatherings in the library or near the Quidditch pitch. For Regulus, the idea of spending time near James had felt uncomfortable at first, especially given everything surrounding Sirius.

Yet, over time, the interactions grew less strained. James, being who he was, seemed determined to break the ice, pulling Regulus into conversations whenever an opportunity arose.

Regulus was sitting beneath one of the trees by the Black Lake, flipping through a book during a rare break from classes. Nearby, Dorcas and Marlene were engaged in a lively discussion about Quidditch, while Pandora was focused on crafting a magical flower arrangement that changed colour with touch.

James appeared out of nowhere, flashing his characteristic grin.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Regulus Black. Didn’t expect you to venture out of the library.”

Regulus glanced up, already armed with a sarcastic retort but opting for something more neutral instead. “Even a Black needs fresh air sometimes. Any objections, Potter?”

James laughed as he sat nearby, ensuring a respectable distance. “No objections. Just curious. Sirius always said you hated being outdoors.”

“Funny,” Regulus replied, closing his book. “I didn’t think Sirius cared much about describing me to others.”

For a brief moment, the tension in the air was palpable, but James, with his peculiar charm, steered the conversation away without missing a beat.

“So, have you heard the rumours about the next Quidditch match? Slytherin’s up against Gryffindor. Five galleons says we leave your team in the dust.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued by the lack of any real provocation in James’s tone. “Five galleons? You’re quite confident for someone who thinks spectacle is more important than strategy.”

Pandora, who had been absorbed in her flowers, chuckled softly. “I think Regulus just said you’re more of a show-off than skilled.”

“Show-off?” James placed a hand dramatically on his chest as if wounded. “That’s a bold accusation. I’d call it pure charisma on the pitch. Wouldn’t you agree, Marlene?”

Marlene rolled her eyes with a smile. “Of course, James. You’re a gift to Quidditch. Everyone knows it.”

Regulus watched the exchange, realising that, despite James’s exaggerated personality, there was something disarming about how he managed to make any conversation feel lighthearted. It wasn’t the kind of friendship Regulus had been seeking, but for the first time, he found he didn’t mind James Potter’s company as much as he thought he would.

---

It was a quiet afternoon in the Gryffindor common room, sunlight streaming through the windows and casting shadows across the stone walls. Sirius was slouched in one of the armchairs near the corner, lazily twirling his wand between his fingers. Remus entered, pausing for a moment before approaching him.

“Sirius,” Remus began, his voice soft but laced with seriousness.

Sirius glanced up, noticing the determined look on Remus’s face. “Lupin. What is it now? Come to give another lecture?”

Remus ignored the provocation and sat on the nearby sofa, leaning his elbows on his knees as he regarded Sirius. “I’m not here to argue. I just... thought we should talk. Properly, this time.”

Sirius rolled his eyes but didn’t look away. “If this is about the potion thing, that’s ancient history, Remus. I’m not wasting my time going over it again.”

“It’s not just about the potion,” Remus said firmly. “It’s about you. About us. And about Regulus.”

At the mention of his brother, Sirius stiffened, the tension settling in his shoulders. “Oh, of course. Regulus. It’s always him, isn’t it?”

“Sirius,” Remus sighed, making an effort to keep his voice calm, “he’s your brother.”

“He *was* my brother,” Sirius corrected sharply. “The moment he chose to side with our family, he became part of something I despise. You know that.”

Remus shook his head, the frustration clear on his face. “And that’s reason enough to just ignore him? To give up on him? He’s alone now, Sirius. Don’t you see how much that’s affecting him?”

“He doesn’t want my help,” Sirius shot back, a flicker of anger in his eyes. “He made his choice. He chose to be the perfect Black heir, following every rule, doing everything our parents tell him to. He did that knowing exactly who they are and what they do.”

Remus leaned forward, his voice more urgent now. “Maybe he didn’t have a choice. Maybe he’s just trying to survive, Sirius. Not everyone’s like you, willing to cut ties and run. You know that. You’ve seen what that house is capable of.”

The words seemed to hit Sirius, but he quickly looked away, as if refusing to acknowledge that Remus might be right. “I can’t change this, Remus. And neither can you. Regulus is where he wants to be. I’m not wasting my time trying to save him from something he chose.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, searching for the right words. Finally, he let out a long, weary sigh. “I just... hope you don’t regret this, Sirius. He’s your family, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Family,” Sirius repeated bitterly, as if the word itself were poisonous. “Family is what you choose, not what chains you. You, James, Peter—you’re my family. Not him.”

Remus watched Sirius for a moment, his heart aching at how deeply the anger consumed him. He knew Sirius was hurt, that his contempt for his own name was also a shield against wounds that hadn’t fully healed. And though Remus wanted to push further, he also knew Sirius wouldn’t change his mind easily.

“All right,” Remus said finally, standing. “But at least think about it. He’s your brother, Sirius. And if you can’t help him now, maybe the least you can do is not give up on him entirely.”

Sirius didn’t reply, but his gaze followed Remus as he walked away, his footsteps light and deliberate.

---

James was on his way from the Gryffindor common room to the library when he heard raised voices coming from a more secluded corridor. He paused, immediately recognising one of them as belonging to Regulus Black. It didn’t take long to discern that the other voices were hostile, laced with mockery.

Curious and slightly wary, James turned the corner and found Regulus surrounded by three Slytherin students. They were visibly older and clearly enjoying themselves at his expense. One of them had a firm grip on Regulus’s arm while the others laughed and taunted him.

“I thought the Blacks were supposed to be powerful,” sneered one, shoving Regulus against the wall. “But look at you. Not so impressive, are you?”

Regulus didn’t reply, his expression rigid as though he were holding back any reaction that might make things worse. His silence didn’t seem to deter the bullies; if anything, it spurred them on.

James didn’t think twice. “Oi! Haven’t you got anything better to do?”

The three turned to face him, surprised by the interruption. One of them frowned. “This isn’t your business, Potter.”

“Oh, but it is now,” James retorted, his tone firm. “Three against one? How courageous. Fancy trying the same odds against me instead?”

The bullies exchanged uncertain looks. Despite being alone, James was known for being skilled with his wand. It didn’t seem worth the effort. The tallest of them huffed and stepped back. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, Potter. Let’s go.”

They left, leaving Regulus slumped against the wall. James waited until their footsteps faded before approaching him.

“Are you all right?” James asked, his voice gentler now.

“I’m fine,” Regulus replied quickly, pushing himself off the wall. He seemed intent on brushing past James and forgetting the scene entirely, but James wasn’t about to let it slide.

“Regulus, wait,” he insisted, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. As soon as he did, Regulus let out a faint hiss of pain, and James’s brow furrowed. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” Regulus said, avoiding his gaze.

“Looks like something,” James countered. Without waiting for permission, he guided Regulus to a nearby bench and knelt down. “Let me see.”

Regulus hesitated, but the insistence in James’s expression was difficult to ignore. Reluctantly, he allowed James to roll up the sleeve of his robe, revealing a bruise beginning to form on his forearm.

James let out a low whistle. “That’s definitely not ‘nothing.’ Stay here.”

Before Regulus could protest, James was already rummaging through his bag, pulling out a small jar of healing salve he always carried for inevitable Quidditch injuries. He applied it carefully, his movements gentler than Regulus expected.

“You carry that around with you?” Regulus asked, trying to sound indifferent but unable to hide his surprise entirely.

James gave a faint grin. “Let’s just say I’m a bit reckless in the air. Never know when you’ll need it.”

Once he finished, James put the jar away and stood, crossing his arms. “Look, this can’t keep happening. Those idiots will only get worse if they think they can get away with it. How about we meet every night? Just to make sure you’re not walking around alone.”

Regulus looked at him, clearly sceptical. “Why? Why do you care?”

James shrugged, though there was something genuine in his expression. “Because no one should have to go through this. And, well, I reckon we make a good team. What’s the harm?”

For a moment, Regulus considered declining. Accepting help from James Potter wasn’t something he ever thought he’d do. But the ache in his arm and the weight of the past weeks made him rethink.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “But no... heroic stunts, Potter.”

James grinned mischievously. “No promises.”

---

From that day onward, Regulus and James continued their nightly walks through the castle, with James relying on Remus to help him keep the truth hidden from Sirius. Their friendship began to grow, slowly but steadily, and both found themselves nurturing a mutual admiration—something only their hearts could truly explain. It was a new feeling, strange and not yet fully understood or developed.

It was a particularly quiet night in the castle, the kind of stillness where even the lightest footsteps seemed to echo through the halls. Regulus and James were seated on the windowsill of one of the more secluded corridors where they often met. The full moon bathed the space in soft light, casting gentle shadows across the stone walls.

James watched Regulus as he spoke, though his attention was divided. He couldn’t stop noticing how... fragile Regulus looked. The moonlight accentuated the angles of his face, and there was something in the way he kept his arms folded around himself that seemed to go beyond simply feeling cold.

“You’re listening, aren’t you, Potter?” Regulus asked, cutting into James’s thoughts.

“Yes, of course,” James replied quickly, though his tone betrayed him.

Regulus narrowed his eyes. “You’re distracted. What is it this time?”

James hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Are you eating properly, Regulus?”

The question caught Regulus off guard. He blinked, clearly not expecting it. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with the fact that you’re far too thin,” James said plainly. “And don’t tell me it’s just stress. I know what stress looks like, and this... this is more than that.”

Regulus looked away, discomfort evident in his expression. “I’m fine, James. You don’t need to worry.”

“But I do worry,” James insisted, his voice softer now. “Do you think I don’t notice? Do you think I don’t see how much you’re holding yourself together all the time?”

Regulus remained silent, his gaze fixed on the moon outside. He seemed to be grappling with something, as though the words were stuck in his throat.

“I don’t need your pity,” he said finally, his voice low.

“It’s not pity,” James replied, leaning slightly closer. “It’s concern. And, honestly, I’m not going to stop worrying just because you think you can handle everything alone.”

Regulus finally turned to look at him, and there was something in his eyes—a mixture of exhaustion, vulnerability, and something deeper that James couldn’t quite place.

“Why do you do this?” Regulus asked, almost in a whisper. “Why do you care so much?”

James gave a small smile, though there was a seriousness in his gaze. “Because I see you, Regulus. Not the perfect Black heir everyone expects you to be. Just... you. And I like what I see.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and before Regulus could respond, James leaned in, closing the space between them. The kiss was gentle, hesitant, as though they were both testing something unfamiliar.

When they pulled away, Regulus looked stunned but not withdrawn. He stared at James, his eyes still full of questions but with a hint of something that felt... like relief.

“That was...” Regulus began, but couldn’t finish.

“Right,” James finished with a small smile. “It was right.”

Regulus didn’t reply, but for the first time in a long while, he felt that perhaps—just perhaps—he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

---

The nights shared between Regulus and James had become a quiet ritual, a space where the world seemed to pull away and leave only the two of them. Their kisses started out tentative, almost as if they were testing the boundaries of something new and unfamiliar. They weren’t frequent, but when they happened, they carried a depth that neither of them quite knew how to put into words.

James, with his easygoing manner, often cracked jokes to ease the tension, yet there were moments when he simply looked at Regulus, as if trying to decipher something even he didn’t fully understand. Regulus, meanwhile, still maintained a certain reserve, though it was impossible to ignore how he relaxed, even just a little, in James’s presence.

One night, as they sat on the ledge of a window, James leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You ever think about how strange this is?”

Regulus, who had been gazing at the starry sky, turned to him, curiosity flickering in his expression. “What exactly?”

“This,” James said, gesturing between them. “Us. I mean, if anyone knew…”

Regulus offered a small smile, rare but something James always noticed. “If anyone knew, it’d be the end of the world, wouldn’t it?”

James laughed, though there was a serious undertone to his voice. “Maybe. But honestly, I don’t care. Not here, at least.”

Regulus studied him for a moment before replying, his voice quieter. “Neither do I. But... it’s still strange.”

James leaned back, propping himself up on his hands. “Strange isn’t always bad, you know. Sometimes it’s just... different.”

Regulus didn’t respond, but when James moved closer and left a gentle kiss on his cheek, he didn’t pull away. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke far more than any conversation could.

---

Meanwhile, Regulus’s friends continued to grow suspicious. Pandora, ever observant, seemed to know more than she let on but never pushed for answers. Barty and Evan, on the other hand, occasionally made comments, though always in a playful tone.

“You’ve been sneaking off a lot at night,” Evan remarked one evening as they sat in the common room. “Should we be worried?”

Regulus shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. “I like walking. Helps me think.”

Barty laughed, tossing a cushion in his direction. “Thinking, sure. And I bet these walks come with company, don’t they?”

Pandora, seated nearby, simply smiled. “Leave him be. Everyone needs a little mystery in their life.”

Regulus shot a grateful look at Pandora but didn’t say anything. He knew they suspected something, but as long as no one asked outright, he could keep it as something just for him and James.

And, for now, that was enough.

---