δύο
The next morning, Regulus woke feeling well-rested, the exhaustion of travel finally washed away. He dressed quickly and made his way downstairs, following the scent of fresh bread and something warm and spiced.
The dining area was modest but inviting, with wooden tables neatly arranged and morning sunlight spilling in through the windows. A long table at the side of the room was laden with food, most of which Regulus didn’t recognize. There were cheeses, olives, thick slices of bread, small pastries, and something that looked like a baked egg dish.
As he stood there, hesitating, an older woman approached with a kind smile. She set a steaming plate in front of one of the empty seats, a dish that looked golden and crisp on the outside, soft in the middle. She noticed his uncertainty and spoke in English, her voice warm but carrying an accent.
"Can I help you, dear?"
Regulus turned to her, grateful for the assistance. "Yes...uh, what is this?" He gestured toward the dish she had just placed down.
"Ah, strapatsada," she said with a touch of pride. "Eggs cooked with tomatoes and feta cheese. Very good, very traditional."
Regulus glanced at the food again, still unsure. He wasn’t a particularly adventurous eater, but he didn’t want to seem rude. "It looks... interesting."
The woman chuckled. "Try it. I think you'll like it."
Encouraged by her warmth, Regulus took a small portion and let her guide him through the rest of the options, choosing bread, a little cheese, and some fruit.
"Thank you," he said as she helped him balance his plate. "I'm Regulus, by the way."
She smiled, wiping her hands on her apron. "Euphemia," she introduced herself.
Something about her felt familiar, but Regulus couldn’t quite place it. He decided not to mention it, perhaps it was just the way she carried herself, or the kindness in her expression.
He took his seat and hesitantly tried the strapatsada. The first bite was a surprise. The eggs were soft, the tomatoes tangy, and the feta added a rich saltiness. Before he knew it, he was taking another bite.
By the time he finished, he realized he had enjoyed every bit of it.
After breakfast Regulus sat under the sprawling olive tree, book in hand, trying his best to focus. The pages were filled with dense analysis, the kind that required more effort to read than he was willing to give at the moment. He scrawled a note in the margin, underlined a passage, then sighed. God, this is boring.
He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the tree trunk. The garden was peaceful, the occasional chirp of birds and rustling of leaves the only sounds around him. Just as he considered closing the book entirely, something thudded onto the ground beside him.
Regulus startled, his head snapping to the side. A book lay in the dirt, having seemingly fallen from nowhere. He frowned and picked it up, brushing off the cover. Symposium by Plato.
Curious about what the book was doing there, he tilted his head back and looked up. There, perched on a thick branch a few feet above him, was James. He sat comfortably, one arm draped over a higher branch, legs dangling like he didn't have a care in the world.
"Sorry about that," James called down, grinning. "Didn’t mean to drop it on you. You alright?"
Regulus blinked. He was just up there? Sitting in a tree?
"I'm fine," he said, still slightly bewildered.
James nodded. "Good. Would you mind handing it back?"
Regulus stood, book in hand, and realized there was no way to just hand it to him. James was at least two or three feet above him, out of reach. He glanced around for a solution, feeling absurdly at a loss.
James smirked, clearly amused. "You could climb up."
Regulus scoffed. "I—what? No."
"Why not?"
"I’ve never climbed a tree before." The words felt ridiculous coming out of his mouth, but they were true.
James let out a soft chuckle. "Seriously?"
Regulus crossed his arms. "My mother would have never allowed it."
"Well, your mother’s not here, is she?" James grinned. "Come on, I’ll help you. It’s not as hard as it looks."
Regulus hesitated. He looked up at the thick, gnarled branches. He had always imagined olive trees as fragile, but this one was massive, its limbs stretching wide and strong.
Taking a deep breath, he placed one foot on a low knot in the trunk and pushed himself up, reaching for a branch. His grip was unsteady, and as soon as he shifted his weight, his foot slipped against the bark. He barely caught himself, fingers tightening around the branch.
James laughed. "Alright, not like that. You’ve got to use your legs more, don't just pull yourself up with your arms. Here, put your foot there." He pointed to a spot close to Regulus. "And your hand...yeah, right there. Good, now push."
Regulus followed his instructions, heart pounding slightly as he managed to hoist himself higher. The bark was rough under his palms, but he found that if he followed James’s guidance, it wasn’t impossible.
When he got close enough, James reached down and clasped his wrist, steadying him. With one final push, Regulus found himself sitting on the branch beside him, legs straddling the thick wood.
"Not so bad, huh?" James asked, his expression triumphant.
Regulus exhaled slowly, glancing down. "I feel like this is going to break under our weight."
James patted the branch. "This tree’s been here for at least two hundred years. It’s fine."
Regulus arched a brow. "That’s not reassuring. Wouldn’t that make it more likely to break?"
James laughed, full and bright. "No it wouldn't, relax. You can't come to Greece and not climb an ancient olive tree. It’s part of the experience."
Regulus shook his head, but despite himself, he smiled. Maybe this wasn’t so terrible.
Regulus handed the book to James, glancing up at him with a raised brow. “Do you do this often?” he asked.
James gave him a playful grin, clearly amused by the question. “Do what? Read?” He leaned back against the trunk, clearly at ease.
Regulus flushed a little, realizing how the question must have sounded. “No, I mean… climb trees.”
James’s smile softened, like he was reminded of something from long ago. “Ah, this? Yeah, I did a lot of it when I was a kid. I'm Greek. It's in my blood."
Regulus’s curiosity piqued. “Really?”
“Yeah,” James said, his voice softening with a hint of nostalgia. His eyes took on a distant look as if he were remembering a different time. “I was born in England, so there wasn’t much nature around, too many buildings and not enough space to breathe, you know? But every summer, I’d come here to Thebes, to stay with my grandparents. That’s when I’d run wild, climb trees like this one, always this one. It became my favorite spot.” He gestured to the vineyard stretching out across the fields below, visible just beyond the branches. “And I’d wander through the vineyards too. It was just me and the land, no one else around. When I finally moved back after my grandfather passed away, I already knew the city like the back of my hand. Every street, every alley, every corner of it.”
Regulus found himself drawn into James’s words, feeling something stir inside him. There was an ease to James, a connection to the land and his roots that Regulus couldn’t quite understand but envied. He liked the way James told stories, like he could make even something as simple as climbing a tree sound magical.
“I’m from London too,” Regulus said, almost without thinking. It was a small thing, but it felt important somehow. "I'm from Borough of Islington, in Inner London."
James’s eyes lit up. “Figured.”
Regulus frowned slightly. “What do you mean, by 'figured'?”
James’s grin widened. “You were wearing Church’s yesterday.” He shrugged, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Regulus blinked, a little thrown off. “Oh.” He felt his cheeks warm, a flush creeping up his neck. He hadn’t thought much about it, he just liked the shoes. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
James laughed, but it wasn’t mocking. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just something I noticed.”
Regulus quickly changed the subject. “When did you move back to Greece?”
“Four years ago,” James replied, shifting on the branch. His expression became more contemplative. “I was 21. Decided it was time. It wasn’t the same after my grandfather passed.”
“Why didn’t you stay in London?” Regulus asked, more curious now. There was something about James that made him want to know more, something unspoken in his words that tugged at him.
James chuckled, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He looked over at Regulus, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I needed to breathe fresh air, you know? After my divorce, I couldn’t stay there anymore, London felt too small, too full of memories. I needed... space.”
Regulus blinked, surprised he was quiet for a moment. “You’re too young to be divorced.”
James let out a soft, dry laugh. “I’m too young to be a lot of things, to be honest.”
Regulus didn’t know how to respond to that, so he remained silent, caught in the flicker of something that made his chest tighten slightly. James’s life wasn’t as simple as Regulus had first assumed.
James pulled a wallet from his pocket and opened it, revealing a photo of a small child with adorable curls and wide green eyes. Regulus found himself leaning in, instinctively drawn to the picture.
“This is Harry,” James said, his voice softening as he gazed at the photo. “My son.”
Regulus found himself staring at the picture. The child was so small, so innocent. It was easy to see the resemblance to James in his face. “Where is he?”
James’s expression softened. “He’s with his mother for the summer. The rest of the year, he spends with me.”
Regulus couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for James, the quiet longing in his voice making his heart ache a little. “Do you miss him?”
James’s smile faded, his eyes losing their usual spark. “Like crazy,” he said quietly. There was a weight to his words, something raw and vulnerable that made Regulus’s chest tighten. “It’s tough sometimes, but... he’s my everything.”
James turned to Regulus, a playful glint in his eye. “What about you?” he asked.
Regulus smirked, leaning back against the branch. “Oh, you know. No children, no one waiting for me at home. Unless you count my parents, which, frankly, I’d rather not.”
James chuckled, but his gaze lingered on Regulus a second longer, as if he’d picked up on something beneath the humor. Instead of pressing, he decided to change the topic. “What are you reading?”
Regulus glanced down. “Oh, The Heroic Ideal in Ancient Greece.”
James raised an eyebrow. “For your research?”
“Yeah.” Regulus shifted, resting an elbow on his knee. “I’m studying the concept of kleos and how reputation and glory shaped Greek society, especially through Theban myths. Basically, how the idea of being remembered was more important than the life itself.”
James tilted his head, watching him with quiet amusement. “Huh.”
Regulus frowned. “What?”
James’s lips curved into a small smile. “Nothing. Just thinking... I know a place I think you might like.”
Regulus narrowed his eyes. “Where?”
“There’s a site just outside the city, near the ruins of Plataea. Ever heard of the battle?”
Regulus sat up straighter, interest sparking in his chest despite himself. “Of course. One of the defining moments of Greek warfare. Thebes played a… interesting role in it.”
James grinned. “Thought you might say that. There’s not much left, but it’s quiet. Feels like you can still hear the echoes of it all. I could take you.”
Regulus hesitated. He had a dozen reasons to say no. He didn’t come here to make friends. He had work to do. And yet, something about the way James spoke, so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world to invite him along, made him pause.
“Maybe later,” Regulus said finally.
James didn’t seem surprised. He just nodded, glancing at his watch. “I should head back. We’ve got some American guests arriving soon.” He slid forward on the branch, getting ready to climb down. Before he dropped, he looked back at Regulus. “You gonna be okay getting down?”
Regulus rolled his eyes. “I’ll manage.”
James smirked. “Alright, just don’t break a leg.”
With practiced ease, James descended the tree, his movements quick and fluid. Regulus told himself he wasn’t watching. He absolutely was not noticing the way James’s shorts rode up his thighs as he moved, or how effortlessly he dropped to the ground, landing with a light thud before straightening up.
Regulus stayed where he was, perched in the branches, watching as James strolled back toward the hotel. He exhaled slowly, then shook his head at himself. He had no time for distractions. And yet, he already had a feeling James Potter would be difficult to ignore.
...
Regulus knew the exact moment the American tourists arrived at the villa. They were impossible to miss, their voices carried through the courtyard long before he actually saw them.
There was a couple: the woman dressed in resort-appropriate clothing that felt oddly out of place amidst the rugged ruins of Thebes. She kept glancing around, unimpressed, already muttering something about how Athens would’ve been a better choice. The father, in contrast, looked genuinely eager, already questioning James about historical sites nearby. And then there was their son, a lanky boy who couldn’t have been older than eighteen, his face set in the universal expression of teenage boredom as he absently twisted a Rubik’s cube in his hands.
James, to his credit, was all smiles and easy charm, answering questions with an enthusiasm that almost made Regulus pity him. Almost. Instead, he watched the scene from a shaded corner of the courtyard, mildly entertained.
When the afternoon heat began to settle into something more bearable, hunger finally won over, and Regulus decided to venture into town for food. He found a small taverna tucked between old stone buildings, the kind of place that smelled like grilled meat and fresh herbs, with wooden tables set out beneath trailing vines. It was quiet, save for the soft hum of conversation from locals and the occasional clatter of plates from the kitchen.
He had barely settled into a corner table when a woman approached, tall, with sharp eyes and an air of easy confidence.
“You’re not from around here.”
Regulus glanced up. “Is it that obvious?”
She grinned. “You’ve been staring at the menu like it’s a museum exhibit. That’s a dead giveaway.”
That pulled a faint chuckle from him. “I suppose I’m still adjusting.”
“You here on holiday?”
He hesitated, then shrugged. “Something like that.”
She didn’t push, just nodded like she understood the art of leaving people to their silences. “Well, if you’re looking for the best thing on the menu, get the lamb. My cousin marinates it overnight, family recipe.”
“That’s what I’ll have then,” he said, handing her the menu. “And… thank you, your English is perfect by the way."
She smiled in a way that felt like they’d known each other for years. “I studied abroad for a while. But Thebes is home.” She extended a hand. “Dorcas.”
He shook it. “Regulus.”
“Regulus,” she repeated, as if tasting the name. “That’s Roman, not Greek.”
“My mother had particular tastes,” he said dryly.
Dorcas laughed. Then she walked off to put in his order. Regulus sat back, feeling the scent of charcoal and herbs winding through the air.
When Dorcas returned with his food, she lingered a bit, pointing out the best spots in Thebes to catch the sunset, avoid tourists, and hear real stories. Regulus mostly listened, nodding here and there, but he found himself surprisingly drawn in by her warmth.
“I might come back,” he said quietly as he finished the last bite.
Dorcas tilted her head. “Thebes grows on people. Especially the quiet ones.”
Regulus didn’t respond right away. But as he glanced at the fading light spilling across the stone pavement and heard a burst of laughter from a nearby table, he realized something, he didn’t mind being here as much as he thought he would.
Not tonight, at least.
...
Regulus leaned back in his chair, the taste of the the lamb still lingering on his tongue, when Dorcas walked over with a mischievous smile and a fresh glass in hand.
"On the house," she said, offering it to him with a wink. "I think you’ve earned it."
He took the glass, intrigued by the gesture but not quite sure what he’d done to deserve it. "Thanks," he said, lifting it in a half-toast before taking a sip. It was just as smooth and satisfying as the first, and he found himself smiling, a rare sense of relaxation washing over him.
The wine was unlike anything he had ever tasted smooth, rich, and slightly sweet. He took another sip, savoring the full-bodied flavor, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he felt a genuine, easy warmth flood through him. It was the best wine he had ever had in his entire life, and he was almost reluctant to finish it.
After settling his tab and bidding Dorcas a thank-you, Regulus stepped out into the warm evening air. The breeze felt good on his skin, cooling the heat from the wine and the summer sun. He unbuttoned a few of his shirt’s top buttons, letting the night air wash over his chest, and his hair, slightly tousled from the wind, like it had a life of its own. He didn’t mind. In fact, he found the disarray comforting. Regulus couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this light.
As he walked back to the pension, he found himself thinking of nothing in particular, just letting the feeling of the night wrap around him like a soft blanket.
He passed through the entrance of the villa and made his way to the reception area, only to find James in deep conversation with the American family from earlier. The father was asking James for dinner recommendations, the usual touristy questions, while the teenage kept glancing at Regulus, his gaze lingering on him in a way that felt... different.
Regulus felt a little uncomfortable. The boy’s eyes flickered over him, lingering a moment longer than necessary.
James spotted as soon as he walked in and his expression softened into a smile, an easy, friendly smile, the kind that had made Regulus' heart skipped a beat. There was something about that smile, something that made the air around him feel a little lighter. It wasn’t the wine. It wasn’t anything like that. He was just… drawn to James.
When the tourists finally left, James leaned against The tourists eventually left, and the moment they were gone, James moved toward the desk, leaning against it casually. James' gaze flicked over Regulus’ appearance: his shirt half-open, the disheveled state of his hair, and his lips stained with the telltale red of wine. He rested his face in his hand, the corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing smile.
“So,” James said, his tone light, “seems like you're settling in well. Having fun already?”
Regulus furrowed his brow. “I—uh, yes,” Regulus said, realizing he wasn’t exactly answering the question. “I mean… yeah, I guess I’m getting used to it. It's... different.”
James smiled, the teasing quality of his words melting into something softer, and he gave a small shake of his head. “Right. Of course.”
The air between them shifted slightly, and Regulus suddenly felt a pressure to say something, anything, to fill the silence. But as the seconds ticked by, his mind went blank. He knew he wanted to say something, but all he could focus on were the little things about James like the way his eyes caught the dim light from the reception desk, the scent of his cologne, how close he was standing, the easy confidence he exuded. Regulus didn’t have the words, but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
“I... I think I’d like to take you up on your offer,” he said before he even realized he’d spoken the words. “The one about showing me the battle site near Thebes?”
James’ eyes lit up at the suggestion, the surprise quickly replaced by a bright, genuine smile. “Well,” he said, clearly pleased, “that would be my pleasure. Whenever you’re ready.”
Regulus smiled faintly, unsure what he had just agreed to but feeling a rush of warmth at the thought of spending more time with James.
He didn’t fully understand the reason why he was so eager to go with him, but that didn’t matter now.
Regulus hesitated for a moment, then said, "Maybe we could go tomorrow? I’m free tomorrow."
James’ smile widened at the suggestion, and his eyes sparkled with genuine excitement. “Tomorrow it is, then,” he replied, his tone light but with a trace of something more sincere underneath.
Regulus felt a strange flutter in his chest at James’ easy agreement. There was something about the way James said tomorrow, as if he was looking forward to it, to spending time with him, that made Regulus feel oddly... pleased. It wasn’t that he didn’t know people liked spending time with him; it was just that it felt different with James. No one had ever looked at him the way James did, with that hint of curiosity, that warmth.
“Great,” Regulus said, trying to keep his voice casual, though his heart seemed to be beating a little faster now. “I’ll meet you here, then?”
James nodded, still smiling. “Sure thing. I’ll be here, waiting. Don’t keep me waiting too long,” he added with a teasing tone, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that made Regulus think it wasn’t just a joke.
“I won’t,” Regulus replied quickly, the words coming out easier than he expected. He lingered for a moment, unsure if he should say something more, but instead, he gave James a small smile before turning to head toward the staircase.
As he walked away, Regulus couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation growing inside him. He had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time in a long while, he was genuinely excited about the possibility.