breath of life

---

The castle was quiet, the kind of serene calm that often accompanied the end of term as students made their preparations for the summer. James, however, was far from calm. His mind raced as he made his way through the halls, determined to find Regulus before the chance slipped away.

Regulus was sitting by the window in one of the lesser-used study rooms, his gaze fixed on the landscape outside. The summer sun drenched the grounds in hues of gold and green, and the vibrant scene outside the window felt just as distant as the thoughts that occupied his mind.

James leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Regulus for a moment before stepping closer.

“Hey,” James said softly, his voice breaking the quiet.

Regulus turned, raising an eyebrow. “Potter. Is this going to be another one of your surprises?”

“Not this time,” James replied with a grin, though it quickly faded as he took the seat beside Regulus. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the holidays.”

Regulus tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his expression. “What about them?”

James hesitated briefly, but the resolve in his eyes was clear. “You’re not going back to Grimmauld Place this summer, right?”

Regulus’s gaze hardened slightly. “No.”

James nodded, as though confirming what he already knew. “And Sirius... he won’t be at my place this time. He’s staying with Remus for the summer.”

Regulus seemed surprised, his eyebrow twitching upwards. “Really? That’s... unusual.”

“Well, unusual circumstances call for unusual decisions,” James admitted, leaning forward slightly. “Which is why I think you should come to my place for the holidays.”

Regulus blinked, clearly taken aback. “Your place? James, I don’t—”

“Look, before you say no,” James interrupted, “just hear me out. You said you didn’t want to go back to Grimmauld Place, and I know you don’t exactly have a lot of options. My parents would love to have you. And with Sirius not there, it’ll just be us. No awkward confrontations, no tension. Just... a chance to relax.”

Regulus frowned, his expression guarded. “James, I appreciate the offer, but you know how complicated this is. Your parents—do they even know who I am? Do they know I’m a Black?”

James leaned back, smiling faintly. “They do. And they won’t care. Trust me, my mum has a way of making people feel at home, no matter who they are. She’s brilliant like that.”

Regulus studied James for a moment, clearly weighing the idea in his mind. “You’re awfully persuasive, you know that?”

James grinned again, the confidence returning to his tone. “I’ve been told it’s one of my finer qualities.”

After a pause, Regulus finally sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Alright, Potter. You win. I’ll go.”

James’s grin widened, and he clapped a hand on Regulus’s shoulder. “You won’t regret it, Reg. I promise.”

As the two sat there, the tension that had hung over the castle began to ease, if only slightly. For Regulus, the thought of escaping the suffocating grasp of his family brought a sense of relief, even if it's for a short time. And for James, the thought of spending the holidays with Regulus felt like the start of something meaningful.

---

The platform at Hogsmeade Station was bathed in the golden light of summer, the warm air buzzing with the excitement of students preparing to head off for the holidays. Groups clustered together, friends exchanging laughter and farewells as they waited to board the train or head to their destinations.

James stood near the train, arms crossed as he spoke animatedly with Peter. Sirius, however, lingered a few steps away, his expression dark as his gaze occasionally flicked toward Regulus, who was standing with Barty, Evan, and Pandora a short distance away.

“You’re really doing this,” Sirius said abruptly, cutting into James’s conversation. His voice was low, but the edge was unmistakable.

James turned to him, letting out a small sigh. “Yes, I am. Regulus has nowhere else to go, Sirius. I’m not just going to leave him alone.”

Sirius shook his head, frustration evident in the way his fingers ran through his hair. “It’s not your responsibility, James. He’s a Black. He’ll find his way. He always does.”

James crossed his arms, his tone firm. “He’s not just ‘a Black,’ Padfoot. He’s trying to be different. Just because you don’t want to see it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened, and he looked away briefly before glaring back. “You’ve got no idea what you’re getting yourself into. He’s been under their thumb his whole life. That doesn’t just go away, James.”

Peter fidgeted awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the rising tension. “Er, maybe we should—”

“Stay out of it, Wormtail,” Sirius snapped, before turning his attention back to James. “You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

James nodded, his voice steady. “Yes, I have. And you’re not going to talk me out of it.”

“Fine,” Sirius muttered, stepping back with a scoff. “But don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.” With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away, heading toward Remus, who had been quietly watching the scene unfold from the side.

---

Meanwhile, Regulus was dealing with his own brand of scrutiny.

“So, it’s true, then,” Barty said, leaning against the bench with an amused smirk. “You’re actually going to Potter’s house for the holidays?”

Regulus sighed, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Yes, Barty. Must you make such a spectacle of it?”

Pandora giggled, nudging Evan. “I think it’s charming. Regulus Black, crossing boundaries and breaking stereotypes. It’s very poetic.”

Evan raised an eyebrow. “Poetic? I think it’s downright hilarious. Imagine the awkward dinners.”

“Can we not?” Regulus said sharply, though the faint flush on his cheeks betrayed his annoyance.

Barty grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Relax, Reg. We’re just preparing you for all the teasing you’ll get later. You know we’re not letting this go.”

Pandora smiled warmly. “Don’t listen to them. I think it’s good for you, Regulus. You deserve some peace.”

Regulus glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. “Thanks, Pandora. At least someone isn’t insufferable.”

---

The whistle of the train pierced the summer air, signalling the time to depart. Groups began to disperse, students boarding the train or finding carriages to their respective destinations.

Sirius stood with Remus near the end of the platform, his expression still stormy. “I don’t get it, Moony,” he muttered. “I don’t get why he’s doing this.”

“Maybe because he sees something in Regulus that you don’t,” Remus replied gently. “But for what it’s worth, you don’t have to get it. You just have to let him figure it out.”

Sirius didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on James and Regulus as they approached a nearby carriage. He shook his head but said nothing more.

James turned to Regulus, flashing him an easy grin. “Ready?”

Regulus glanced over his shoulder at his friends, who were waving and smirking, before turning back to James. “I suppose I am.”

As they climbed into the carriage, Regulus couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty about what awaited him. But for now, he let the warmth of James’s determination guide him toward the unknown.

---

The warm summer breeze followed James and Regulus as they stepped out of the carriage and approached the sprawling house perched atop a gentle hill. The Potter home was exactly as James had described: charming, with large windows that welcomed the sunlight, a garden filled with wildflowers, and an air of homely warmth that seemed to wrap around you the moment you arrived.

Regulus hesitated at the gate, adjusting the strap of his bag as he scanned the scene. “This is... cosy,” he said, his tone neutral, though his eyes betrayed his curiosity.

James grinned, nudging Regulus playfully. “Cosy? Reg, you can admit it—it’s perfect.”
Regulus rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

As they approached the front door, it swung open before they could knock, revealing Euphemia Potter, a bright smile on her face and her arms already opening wide.

“James! You’re finally here!” Euphemia exclaimed, pulling James into a tight hug before turning her attention to Regulus.

“And you must be Regulus,” she said warmly, her gaze soft and inviting. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. James has told us so much about you.”

Regulus blinked, momentarily taken aback by her enthusiasm. “Er... thank you, Mrs. Potter.”

“Oh, none of that,” Euphemia said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Call me Euphemia. Or Mum, if you feel like it—James’s friends all do eventually.”

Regulus glanced at James, who gave him an encouraging nod. “Euphemia, then,” he said quietly.

Before he could say more, Fleamont Potter appeared in the doorway, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets and a warm grin on his face. “You must be the infamous Regulus,” he said, his tone light with a hint of mischief. “Welcome to our home, son.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” Regulus replied, his voice polite but cautious.

“Fleamont,” he corrected, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder. “And any friend of James is family here. Now, come on in. You must be starving after that train ride.”

---

The inside of the Potter home was as welcoming as its exterior. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, and the furniture was a charming mix of well-loved and elegant, radiating comfort.

Euphemia led them to the kitchen, where she began setting out snacks while Fleamont launched into a story about James as a child, much to James’s dismay.

“Mum, no,” James groaned, sinking into a chair. “You don’t need to tell that one.”

“Which one?” Regulus asked, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh, the time he tried to charm the biscuits to float off the plate and ended up covering himself in treacle,” Euphemia said, ignoring James’s protests. “Absolutely adorable.”

Regulus chuckled softly, a rare sound that made James’s frown melt into a smile.

“Right,” Fleamont said, setting down a pitcher of pumpkin juice. “Now, Regulus, tell us about yourself. What are your interests? Do you play Quidditch, or is James lying when he says you have the best aim he’s ever seen?”

Regulus blinked, caught off guard by the genuine interest in Fleamont’s question. Slowly, he began to relax under their warmth, answering the Potters’ questions as they chatted over snacks.

By the time the sun began to set, Regulus found himself feeling... different. The usual weight of expectations and formalities that followed him at Grimmauld Place was absent here. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel: belonging.

As they finished up and Euphemia began clearing the table, she placed a hand gently on Regulus’s shoulder. “We’re so happy to have you here, dear. Make yourself at home.”

Regulus looked up at her, a small, genuine smile breaking through his usually guarded expression. “Thank you... Euphemia.”

From the doorway, James watched the exchange, his heart swelling with pride. He knew bringing Regulus here had been the right decision.

---

The quiet hum of summer surrounded the Lupin household, nestled in a small, wooded area away from the noise of the world. The house had a lived-in charm, with books stacked haphazardly on shelves and sunlight streaming through the curtains. Sirius wandered through the space with curiosity, his fingers tracing the edges of a well-worn armchair before settling onto the sofa.

Remus was in the kitchen, brewing tea—a ritual he always found comforting when the world felt heavier than usual. Sirius watched him from the doorway, his sharp features softened by the gentle light of the room.

“You don’t have to do all that, Moony,” Sirius said, his tone light but sincere. “Just sit down. I’ll make the tea.”

Remus glanced over his shoulder, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “I like making it. Helps me think.”

Sirius stepped closer, leaning against the counter. “And what are you thinking about?”

Remus hesitated for a moment before answering. “Everything, I suppose. What happened at school. You, James... Regulus. How it all got so complicated.”

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it. I still don’t know what to do about him.”

Remus turned, holding out a steaming cup of tea to Sirius. “Maybe you don’t have to do anything. Maybe you just... let it be for now.”

Sirius took the cup, his fingers brushing against Remus’s briefly. The touch lingered, unspoken but meaningful.

“I wish it were that easy,” Sirius muttered, sinking into the sofa. “But it’s not just Regulus. It’s everything. It’s like I can’t escape it, no matter how far I run.”

Remus sat down beside him, the sofa dipping slightly under his weight. “You don’t have to run, Sirius. Not anymore. You’re here, and that’s enough.”

The words hung in the air, gentle but grounding. Sirius looked at Remus, his gaze softening as he took in the details of his face—the warmth in his eyes, the faint lines of worry etched into his skin.

“You always know what to say,” Sirius said quietly, a small, genuine smile forming.

Remus shrugged, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t always know. But I know how you feel, Sirius. And I know you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Sirius leaned back, letting his head rest against the sofa. “I don’t deserve you, Moony.”

Remus chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting. “That’s not for you to decide.”

For a while, they sat in silence, the rhythmic ticking of the clock the only sound between them. Sirius reached out, his hand covering Remus’s on the sofa. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was enough—a quiet reassurance that neither of them had to face their demons alone.

“I’ll help you carry it, Moony,” Sirius said eventually, his voice steady. “Whatever it is. You don’t have to do it all yourself.”

Remus looked down at their hands, his smile returning. “And I’ll do the same for you, Sirius. Always.”

The simplicity of the moment, the quiet understanding between them, was enough to make the weight of the world feel lighter, if only for a little while.

---

The sun hung high in the sky, its golden rays glittering across the waves as Euphemia and Fleamont Potter led James and Regulus down the sandy trail to the beach. The air was warm and inviting, filled with the sound of seabirds and the distant laughter of children playing by the shore.

James bounded ahead, his energy irrepressible as he kicked off his shoes and waded into the shallow water. “Come on, Reg! You can’t visit the beach and stay dry. It’s against the rules!”

Regulus followed at a slower pace, his bag clutched tightly in his hand. He paused by the edge of the sand, his gaze flickering over the water and the happy families spread across the beach. It was a rare sight for him—a place free of grim expectations or hushed judgement.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Euphemia said, stepping beside him with a gentle smile.

Regulus nodded. “It’s peaceful.”

“That’s the best part,” Fleamont added, carrying a cooler filled with drinks and snacks. “Nothing like a summer day by the sea.”

James splashed his way back to shore, grinning as water droplets sprayed around him. “Reg, are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to join me?”

Regulus hesitated, his fingers brushing against the hem of his shirt. “I—I'll come in a bit,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

James tilted his head, noticing the slight tension in Regulus’s posture. He didn’t push, instead slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Suit yourself. I’ll be over there, trying not to drown.”

---

While Euphemia and Fleamont set up chairs and umbrellas, Regulus found a shaded spot to sit and watch the waves. The sound of the ocean was soothing, but his mind lingered on the scars that ran along his arms and torso—marks that told stories he didn’t want anyone to hear.

It wasn’t long before James came bounding back, dragging an extra towel along with him. He plopped down beside Regulus, shaking water from his hair with no regard for personal space.

“You can’t sit here all day,” James said, his grin infectious. “What’s the point of coming to the beach if you don’t enjoy it?”

Regulus gave him a faint smile. “I am enjoying it. The view is nice.”

James glanced at him, his expression softening. “Reg, no one here cares about... whatever it is that’s holding you back. My parents certainly don’t. And I definitely don’t.”

Regulus looked down, his fingers tracing the edge of the towel. “It’s not that simple, James.”

James leaned back, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “It is, actually. You’re here. You’re safe. And if anyone gives you a hard time, they’ll have to deal with me.”

Regulus chuckled quietly despite himself. “You always have to be the hero, don’t you?”

“Someone has to be,” James said with a wink. “Now, come on. The water won’t bite.”

Regulus took a deep breath before pulling off his shirt, quickly covering himself with the towel as he stood. He kept his eyes fixed on the sand as he followed James toward the waves, but the warmth of James’s smile and the gentle breeze eased some of the weight he carried.

By the time they were waist-deep in the water, James had him laughing—at the ridiculous faces he made as the waves crashed against them, at the way he claimed to be fighting off a sea monster, at the sheer joy he brought to every moment.

Euphemia watched from the shore, a soft smile on her face. “He’s good for Regulus,” she said to Fleamont.

“That boy has a way of making everyone feel lighter,” Fleamont agreed, raising his glass of lemonade. “Here’s to a summer full of surprises.”

---

The scent of herbs and spices filled the Potter kitchen as Euphemia rummaged through cabinets, humming softly to herself. Regulus stood awkwardly by the table, watching her move with a calm precision he found strangely comforting.

“Regulus, dear,” Euphemia said, glancing over her shoulder with a warm smile, “why don’t you join me? Cooking’s always better with company.”

Regulus hesitated, his fingers brushing against the edge of his sleeve. “I don’t know much about cooking.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” Euphemia replied, gesturing for him to come closer. “It’s less about knowing and more about creating. And I think you’d be quite good at it.”

Slowly, Regulus stepped forward, and Euphemia handed him a cutting board and a knife. She placed a bundle of fresh vegetables in front of him. “Start with these. Just slice them up—it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Regulus focused on his task, his movements careful and deliberate. The rhythm of chopping was soothing, and the quiet warmth of Euphemia’s presence began to dissolve the tension he hadn’t realised he was carrying.

“You know,” Euphemia said softly, “James was always quite hopeless in the kitchen as a child. He’d charm the spoons to dance instead of helping with dinner.”

Regulus chuckled faintly, the corners of his mouth lifting. “That sounds like him.”

Euphemia nodded, her eyes sparkling. “But there’s something about him, isn’t there? He has this way of pulling people in, making them feel like they belong.”

Regulus paused, his hands stilling as her words settled over him. “He... has a way of making things feel lighter,” he admitted quietly.

Euphemia watched him with a knowing smile. “And you, Regulus? What makes things feel lighter for you?”

Regulus hesitated, his gaze dropping to the cutting board. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever really felt... light.”

Euphemia placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Well, maybe this summer can be the start of something different. You’re surrounded by people who care about you here. Don’t be afraid to let yourself feel it.”

Regulus glanced at her, a flicker of something soft and unguarded crossing his features. “Thank you, Euphemia. For... everything.”

She squeezed his arm lightly before turning back to the stove. “Anytime, dear.”

---

Later in the evening, Regulus found himself in the study with Fleamont. The room was lined with bookshelves, and the scent of parchment and ink hung in the air.

Fleamont sat in a worn armchair, flipping through a book on potion-making while Regulus browsed the shelves.

“You’ve got quite the collection,” Regulus remarked, running his fingers lightly along the spines of the books.

“Years of obsession,” Fleamont replied with a grin. “Potions are a wonderful blend of science and magic—there’s always something new to discover.”

Regulus pulled out a book with a faded, leather-bound cover and examined the title. “You’re an expert in potions, aren’t you?”

“Let’s say I’ve spent enough time with cauldrons to call myself one,” Fleamont said. He leaned forward, tapping the open page of his book. “But you know, it’s not all about precision. Sometimes, the best potions come from intuition.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Intuition? I thought potions required strict adherence to formulas.”

“Ah, that’s the common misconception,” Fleamont said, his tone lively. “Formulas are important, but the magic comes from knowing when to bend the rules. It’s a bit like life, really.”

Regulus sat down across from him, the book resting on his lap. “I’ve always thought of life as less about bending rules and more about surviving them.”

Fleamont studied him for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Survival’s a part of it, of course. But thriving—that’s where the real magic lies.”

Regulus nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the book in his hands. “Maybe I’ll figure that out someday.”

Fleamont smiled warmly. “You’ve got time, Regulus. And a good head on your shoulders. I have no doubt you’ll find your way.”

As the evening stretched on, Regulus found himself relaxing into the quiet rhythm of the study, the companionship of someone who didn’t demand but simply listened.

---

The Potter house was silent, wrapped in the tranquillity of the night. The soft light of the moon streamed through the windows, casting the furniture in a silvery glow. James and Regulus were sitting side by side on the sofa, a blanket draped over them.

James had a calm smile on his face as he looked at Regulus, who seemed more relaxed than usual. Their conversation flowed naturally, full of playful remarks and quiet laughter.

“You know,” James began, leaning slightly towards Regulus, “I never imagined you’d be so good at keeping up with my antics.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, a subtle smile appearing. “And I never imagined you’d be so... persistent.”

James laughed, the sound light and filling the room. “Persistent is my middle name.”

For a moment, silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that carried something deeper, something that didn’t need words to be understood.

James reached out, his fingers brushing against Regulus’s. The gesture was simple but full of meaning. Regulus looked at him, his eyes reflecting the moonlight, and for the first time, he didn’t try to hide what he was feeling.

“You make me feel... different,” Regulus said quietly, almost as if he were confessing a secret.

James smiled, his gaze filled with tenderness. “And you make me want to be better.”

---

James's room was a haven of intimacy. Books were scattered across the bedside table, marking folded-down pages. A soft woollen blanket was tossed carelessly over the armchair. The warm light from the bedside lamp cast a cosy halo. James closed the door, his eyes meeting Regulus's with a protective tenderness.

James approached slowly, his hand outstretched, and brushed the back of his fingers against Regulus's cheek. The touch was light, almost reverent. Regulus leaned into the contact, his dark eyes fixed on James's.

"Are you absolutely certain about this? There's no pressure at all, you know." James's voice was soft, a murmur laden with care. Regulus nodded, a small, hesitant smile curving his lips.

"I want this. With you, James."

A visible relief softened James's features. He brought both hands to Regulus's face, his thumbs stroking his cheekbones with an intense gentleness.

"I promise I'll look after you."

The whispered promise hung in the quiet of the room. James leaned down and kissed Regulus's forehead, lingering there before his lips found Regulus's in a slow, exploratory kiss. It was an acknowledgement, a first touch that hinted at a deeper intimacy.

The kiss deepened gently, James taking the lead with a firm tenderness. Regulus's hands rose hesitantly to James's shoulders, his fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if seeking an anchor.
James drew back slightly, his eyes assessing Regulus's reaction. There was an exposed vulnerability in Regulus's gaze, but also an undeniable longing. James smiled tenderly and kissed the tip of his nose before trailing down to his jawline, leaving a damp warmth on his sensitive skin.

James's hands slid to the nape of Regulus's neck, his fingers tangling in his dark hair before moving down to his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles beneath his touch. A small groan escaped Regulus's lips at the sensation.

Carefully, James began to unbutton Regulus's shirt, his movements slow and deliberate. The fabric parted, revealing the pale skin of his chest, marked by fine, pale lines – quiet scars that told silent stories. James paused, his eyes tracing the marks with a soft intensity. He leaned down and kissed one of the scars near his collarbone, his lips lingering there with a silent reverence.

Regulus gasped, his fingers tightening on James's shoulders. He felt exposed in a new way, but James's touch wasn't pitying, it was accepting.

James then unbuttoned his own shirt, his eyes never leaving Regulus's. He let it fall to the floor, revealing his muscled chest. The exchange of glances was charged with a soft electricity.

James took Regulus's hands and placed them on his chest, guiding them so he could feel the quickened rhythm of his heart. Regulus hesitated for a moment before closing his fingers around the warm skin, feeling the strong pulse beneath his fingertips.

With a gentle movement, James leaned down and kissed Regulus again, a more urgent kiss now, laden with a growing desire. He guided him backwards until Regulus's back met the headboard of the bed. James moved between his legs, not touching him yet, just establishing his presence.

James's hands explored Regulus's body with a dominant tenderness. He stroked his arms, his hips, the inside of his thighs. His eyes found another scar, a longer, thinner one that traced Regulus's ribs.

James followed it with his fingers before pressing a soft kiss to it, his lips lingering there as if sealing a silent promise. Regulus moaned softly, a husky sound that echoed in the room. He felt seen, accepted in his entirety.

James then began to unfasten Regulus's trousers, his movements deliberate and focused. He slid them down slowly, his eyes following their progress, before doing the same with his own.

The skin-on-skin contact was immediate and intense. James moved closer, their bodies brushing together gently. Regulus gasped again, his arousal growing with each touch. James supported himself on his arms, hovering over Regulus, their gazes locked. He traced the outline of Regulus's lips with his finger, then leaned down and kissed them again, a kiss that spoke of possession and affection.

Carefully, James shifted to position Regulus comfortably. He watched him intently, ensuring he was as relaxed as possible. His touches were gentle, preparing Regulus's body for the intimacy that would follow.

The moment of joining was approached with a deliberate slowness, focused on Regulus's sensations. James kissed him softly, whispering words of comfort and care as their bodies united for the first time.

Regulus gasped, a sound that was a mixture of surprise and pleasure. James remained still for a moment, allowing Regulus to adjust to the feeling, his arms holding him firmly. He then kissed a scar on Regulus's back, accessible now that their bodies were closer, a silent seal of acceptance.

The movement began, slow and controlled, with James dictating the pace. His eyes never left Regulus's, searching for any sign of discomfort or pleasure. He kissed him with each thrust, his mouth silencing any sound that escaped Regulus's lips.

James's hands gripped Regulus's hips, guiding the movement, while Regulus's hands clutched at James's shoulders, his fingers digging into his skin. Their breathing grew faster and more ragged, filling the room with an intimate rhythm.

Regulus's moans became more audible, his hips lifting instinctively to meet James's. Pleasure began to override any lingering nervousness, his body responding to James's gentle but firm lead.

James continued, his attention focused entirely on Regulus, on his reactions, on his whispered sounds of pleasure. He varied the rhythm and intensity, always mindful of the signals Regulus gave him.

Climax washed over them both in waves of shared heat and pleasure, their bodies contracting together in a tight embrace. They remained joined for a long moment afterwards, their breathing gradually slowing, the silence of the room filled only with the sound of their hearts beating in unison.

James kissed Regulus's damp hair softly, his arm still firm around his body. He slid his hand down Regulus's back, his fingers finding the scars there, and pressed a final, tender kiss to one of them.

"You're perfect, Regulus. Every bit of you."
Regulus murmured a muffled "I love you" against James's chest, his body relaxed and sated. James smiled and held him closer, knowing that the intimacy they had shared transcended the physical, touching the most vulnerable parts of their hearts.