The Rewrite
It was raining.
Not hard. Just a light drizzle that blurred the city lights and smudged the pavement in soft strokes of silver. James sat behind the table at his final book signing of the tour. He hadn’t been expecting anything from this one—no nerves, no spark, no ridiculous hope.
But then he saw him, halfway down the line. Dark hair damp with rain. A book clutched in both hands. A face James had memorized by accident, then on purpose, then forever.
Regulus Black.
James nearly knocked over his water bottle.
“Oi,” Sirius said, nudging him from behind. “Eyes forward, Potter. You’re drooling on your own name.”
James elbowed him. The line moved slowly. Regulus didn’t look around. He just waited, patient and still, like he had all the time in the world. When he reached the table, he placed the book down with quiet ceremony. James stared at him.
“Name?” he asked, like the first time.
Regulus raised an eyebrow. “You know it.”
James bit back a grin. “Humor me.”
“Regulus.”
James opened the book to the title page. Paused.
Then wrote:
To Regulus—
The boy who rewrote everything.
– James
He slid it back. Regulus looked down at the words. Then up at James.
Then, with the tiniest smile: “I still think chapter three was rushed.”
James snorted. “I still think you’re full of shit.”
“Mm. And yet you keep kissing me.”
“You keep letting me.”
Regulus stepped closer. Too close for a fan. Too close for a stranger. Exactly close enough.
Regulus leaned in. “You know I brought an umbrella, right?”
James blinked. “What?”
“Just thought you might want to walk with me. Out into the rain.”
James stood. Grabbed his coat. Then looked back at Regulus. And smiled.
“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go rewrite the ending.”
Epilogue: The Dedication Page
For the boy in the café who hated my book.
Thank you for reading it anyway.
And for loving me afterward.
– J.P.