A House Full of Voices
Regulus
Regulus likes it here. He didn’t think he would. He thought it would be weird and awkward—living with someone else’s parents. He’d never even met Effie and Monty before all this, and now they’re his guardians?
Surprisingly, it doesn’t feel like things are moving too fast. It doesn’t even scare him. They already feel like his parents. The one’s he should’ve had.
Monty is great. His private library is enormous, and the first time they really spoke, he told Regulus he could borrow anything he wanted. Regulus thanked him awkwardly—but that’s exactly what he did. He reads and reads and reads.
There are even Muggle books. And after the whole Walkman and Bohemian Rhapsody thing, Regulus doesn’t think Muggles are inferior anymore. He doubts he ever truly did. So now he reads their books too—devours them, really—and he loves it.
At dinner, Monty always asks about whatever book he’s currently reading. They talk about it with the same quiet enthusiasm. The others usually tease them for it. Regulus couldn’t care less.
Effie? Regulus doesn’t use the word often, but he finds himself thinking it anyway: he loves her. Her kindness. Her warmth. Her loyalty. Her cooking. Her hugs. Her humor. Her accent. Her fierceness. Her knitting. Her everything, really.
Awkward silences don’t exist with that woman. She always knows exactly what to say to make him open up—and when to just listen. She never tries to fix him or change him. She’s the most amazing woman he’s ever met. Her and Pandora.
Honestly, no wonder James turned out the way he did. The perfect blend of Effie and Monty.
And James... He actually gave Regulus a Christmas present. As if he hadn’t already done enough. And worse—Regulus likes the present. The Walkman. That band—Queen. That song.
Bohemian Rhapsody.
He loves that song. Salazar, he loves it. The lyrics. The melody. The absurd length. The chaos and tragedy and beauty of it. He’d never admit it out loud, but he listens to it constantly. He’s not even close to getting bored of it.
He’s listened to the other Queen songs too. He loves them all. But that one? That one’s his.
James... Regulus doesn’t know what to make of James. He’s sweet. Too sweet. And flustered—so easy to tease. At first, Regulus wasn’t doing it on purpose. He wasn’t even trying to flirt. But the moment James pointed it out—blushing, stammering, looking like he wanted to fall into a hole—Regulus kept it up.
He said James was sweet, once. It was maybe a little too much. But James’s expression had been worth it.
And, well… it wasn’t exactly a lie.
Then there’s Sirius. His brother.
Regulus is avoiding him. He thinks Sirius is avoiding him, too. The reconciliation was great—needed, important—but now... they’re stuck. Something heavy still hangs between them. Regulus doesn’t know how to cross it.
So in the second week of the holidays, he talks to Monty about it.
They’re in the library, reading. It’s cozy. The windows are tall, the snow falling outside in gentle, slow spirals. The red couch feels like a cloud beneath him. The shelves aren’t intimidating like they were at that house. Everything’s warm. Safe.
Regulus wants to keep it that way.
But he can’t focus. The words blur on the page. He keeps reading the same sentence. Monty notices—of course he does.
“What’s the matter, son?” he asks softly, looking up from his book.
The word son makes Regulus’s chest ache, just a little. He doesn’t know how to answer at first.
He swallows. Looks down at the spine of his book, thumb resting lightly on the corner like he’s considering turning the page even though he’s read the same paragraph three times.
“It’s Sirius,” he says eventually. Quiet, but Monty still hears him. Of course he does.
Monty nods, gentle. Doesn’t interrupt.
Regulus hesitates again. “We… haven’t talked. Not really. We’re both avoiding each other, mostly. I think.” He glances out the window, watches snow slip from a low-hanging branch. “I don’t know what to do with it.”
Monty hums thoughtfully, closing his book and setting it on the arm of the couch. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Regulus frowns. “We’ve been circling around each other like—like we’re afraid of ruining it. He’s always been loud, and I’ve always been quiet, and now it’s like we’ve reversed. Or maybe neither of us knows what to say anymore.”
Monty’s expression softens in that thoughtful, fatherly way of his. “I think maybe neither of you wants to push too hard. You’ve both come a long way. That kind of distance doesn’t disappear overnight.”
Regulus nods slowly. “It’s just—I came here for him. That’s the reason I finally left. Not my friends, not the family, but for him.” He bites the inside of his cheek. “And I don’t know how to tell him that without sounding pathetic.”
Monty smiles, quiet and knowing. “It’s not pathetic to miss your brother. Or to want to fix something broken.”
Regulus looks down again. “I was awful to him. For months.”
“And he wasn’t exactly easy on you, either, was he?”
Regulus huffs a soft laugh. “He’s still not.”
“There you go, then. Sounds like you’re brothers to me.”
That gets an actual smile out of him, small and crooked.
Monty leans back, one leg crossed over the other, fingers threading together in his lap. “You don’t have to fix everything at once, Regulus. Some things heal in the doing. Just… sit with him. Ask him to help you with something, or go for a walk, or force him to listen to Queen with you.”
Regulus scoffs. “I’d rather die than admit to him that I like it.”
“You’re the stubborn sort. Figures.”
That makes Regulus grin. It's a little sharp, but genuine. Monty grins back.
There’s a short pause. The fire crackles softly beside them.
“Thank you,” Regulus says, and it feels strange coming out of his mouth—not because he doesn’t mean it, but because he means it too much.
Monty reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. “You’re welcome, son.”
This time, Regulus doesn’t flinch when he says it. He lets it settle into his chest, somewhere just beneath the ache.
Maybe it’s okay to let himself have this. Not just Sirius. Not just safety. But a home. A family.
Maybe it’s okay to want it, too.
He looks down at his book again, and this time, when he starts reading, the words actually make sense. He’ll find Sirius later and they’re going to talk. Scary as it might be.
---
"We need to talk.", Regulus announces, barging into Sirius’s messy room with determination.
He’s been avoiding Sirius for days. When they did talk, it was always meaningless. They didn’t get into the deep stuff yet. The words still feel awkward in his mouth: We need to talk. It’s a conversation that neither of them has been able to start, but Regulus knows it’s time. Maybe it’s time for Sirius to stop being this unreachable person with a tangled mess of old resentment and expectations. Maybe it’s time for something else.
Sirius turns to look up from where he was hunched over an… essay? Wow, he’s really doing anything to avoid talking to him.
Regulus stands at the door for a moment, watching him, unsure of how to approach this. But Sirius is his brother. His family, even if that word still feels strange on his tongue.
He steps inside, closing the door behind him. He walks over to the bed and sits down, patting the place next to him. Sirius plops down next to him raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t look surprised, as if he’s been expecting this.
"Yeah, I know," Sirius says, his voice quiet, but not unkind. He just nods, slowly. "I’ve been waiting for you to say that."
The words fall into the space between them, unspoken tension thick enough to almost be felt. Regulus lets the silence stretch, his chest tight.
Finally, he speaks, quieter this time. "I—"
Sirius raises a hand, cutting him off. "You don’t have to say it all at once." His voice softens, that sharp edge of distance dulling just a little. "I know, Reg. I know you didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to run, but… fuck, you were trapped, weren’t you?"
Regulus feels a rush of emotion, something between guilt and relief, fill him at the words. "I didn’t know how to leave," he admits, his throat tight. "I didn’t know if you’d even want me to leave. I know you asked me last year but… The Potters’ were always yours, not mine. I didn’t want to intrude." The confession hangs in the air, heavy and raw.
Sirius doesn’t respond immediately. He sits back in the chair, his eyes lingering on Regulus like he’s taking in every little part of him—his posture, his tense shoulders, the way he won’t quite meet his eyes.
"When I asked you to leave with me last year," Sirius says finally. His voice is quieter, regretful. "I thought you’d follow. I didn’t think you’d feel like you couldn’t."
Regulus shakes his head quickly. "No. I... I wasn’t ready. I was scared. I thought I had no choice but to stay." His voice cracks just a little, and it makes him pause, but it’s the truth. "I thought maybe I could handle it. Make it better." He swallows hard. “I was so fucking stupid.”
Sirius doesn't answer right away, but his eyes soften, and for a moment, there's no anger between them. No years of bitterness. Just two brothers who have lived with too much pain for too long.
"I was stupid, too," Sirius says after a beat. "I never should’ve left you there alone."
Regulus feels something in his chest loosen, just a little. A breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
"How are you doing?" Sirius asks quietly, like it’s something he’s been meaning to ask, but hasn’t known how to. "With everything. With all of it. I know how hard it is."
Regulus leans against the back of the chair, his hands still stuffed in his pockets, not sure how to answer. How do you explain what it’s like to leave everything you’ve ever known? How do you explain the hole that opens when the place you used to call home no longer feels like home?
"I don’t know," he admits, the words coming out heavier than he’d expected. "It’s... good here. Better. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’m starting to feel like this is where I’m supposed to be. And it doesn’t feel wrong. Not like it always did."
Sirius watches him for a long time, and then he says, with a wry smile, "I’m glad you finally figured it out. I was starting to wonder if you’d ever get there."
Regulus doesn’t laugh, but he feels the corners of his mouth twitch in spite of himself. "Took me long enough," he says quietly, staring at his shoes for a moment. He looks back up at Sirius, catching his eye. “But I... I think I’ve got a family now. I think I’ve got a place.” His throat feels tight again, but this time, it’s not pain. It’s something else. Something new.
Sirius is quiet for a moment before he reaches out and pulls Regulus into a hug. It’s not perfect. It’s not easy. But it’s real. Regulus feels his brother’s arms around him, the pressure of them as they both just hold on for a beat too long.
When they pull away, Sirius looks at him with a small, almost unreadable expression on his face.
"You're not alone anymore," he says. "I should’ve told you that sooner."
Regulus nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I think I needed to hear it," he says softly.
Sirius ruffles his hair—just like Effie does—and Regulus immediately scowls.
"I’m not a kid," he mutters, but the words are soft.
Sirius laughs, loud and genuine, and Regulus can’t help but smile a little too.
"Always will be, though, won’t you?" Sirius teases. "My little brother."
Regulus rolls his eyes, but he feels a warmth spread through him that he hasn’t felt in years. Maybe things are starting to feel like home.
After a long silence, Sirius bumps his shoulder against Regulus’s. “So. James, huh?”
Regulus groans. “Do not start.”
“I’m just saying. He’s got a very punchable face, but I guess he’s not the worst.”
Regulus stares straight ahead. “He gave me a Walkman.”
“Oh god. It’s love.”
“I will hex you.”
Sirius laughs. Regulus tries not to smile, but it’s a losing battle.
They sit there until the sun dips low and the frost starts to creep up their boots again. But they don’t move. Not yet.
For the first time in too long, they’re not running from anything.
---
Now, Sirius and Regulus talk. A lot. About everything and nothing. They joke. They have deep-talks. They annoy each other and bicker and they’re also affectionate, sometimes.
Lupin is visiting again today. He’s already been over last week, Regulus remembers. Sirius is oddly nervous today. Regulus doesn’t pay it any mind.
Sirius is fidgeting with his mug again, twisting it in his hands as if it’s some sort of stress-reliever. He’s been acting weird for the past hour, glancing at Regulus every now and then, but never quite meeting his eyes. The tension in the air is almost palpable, and Regulus is starting to get the feeling that something’s up.
He watches Sirius for a second longer before finally speaking. “Sirius, you’re practically wearing a hole in that mug.”
Sirius’s eyes snap up to meet his, wide and startled, and then he flushes. “What? No, I—” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry. Just, uh... just thinking.”
Regulus raises an eyebrow. “Thinking? About what?” He leans back on the couch, folding his arms across his chest. “You’ve been acting all... twitchy today.”
Sirius pauses, hesitates, and then, with a deep sigh, looks down at the table between them. “Okay, Reg, there’s something I need to tell you,” he says quietly. He seems... nervous. Very nervous. Regulus shifts, intrigued.
“Are you okay?” Regulus asks, still not sure what’s going on. Sirius doesn’t get nervous. Not like this.
Sirius bites his lip, glancing over at Remus, who’s sitting calmly beside him on the arm of the couch. Remus just gives him a gentle nod, a silent signal of support.
“Reg,” Sirius begins again, his voice soft but cracking slightly with the weight of whatever it is he’s about to say. “Remus and I... we’re, uh...” He looks like he’s about to burst, his words stumbling over themselves. “We’re dating. You know, together. Like... a thing. Properly.”
Regulus’s brow furrows as he processes the words, and for a second, his brain just stalls. “Wait, you and Lupin?” he asks, completely baffled. “I had no idea.”
Sirius looks both relieved and mortified at the same time. “We, uh... We didn’t know how to tell you,” he mutters, glancing at Remus for reassurance. “It’s just... well, we didn’t want to make it weird.”
Remus, ever the calm one, speaks up. “We wanted to tell you last week, Reg. It’s just been a bit… complicated.”
Regulus stares at both of them for a moment, his mind whirring. He hadn’t suspected a thing, honestly, but he can’t say he’s surprised either. Not when he thinks about it. The way they act around each other, the subtle touches, the way Sirius is always looking at Remus... It had been there, right in front of him the entire time. He’d just never put it together. He didn’t think Sirius could be like him. Could like guys.
“You two... together?” he says again, slower this time, trying to make sense of it. “You’re really...?” He looks between them, then bursts out laughing. “Well, it’s about time, isn’t it? You two are practically joined at the hip.”
Sirius, now looking slightly less nervous, laughs too. “Yeah, we’ve been avoiding it for long enough.”
Regulus leans back into the couch, a teasing grin forming on his lips. “I have to admit, though—imagine Mother getting an invitation to a wedding.” He’s nearly choking on laughter now. “Sirius Black, with a queer half-blood werewolf.” He looks at both of them, smirking. “I can just picture her face.”
Sirius’s jaw drops, and Remus’s eyes widen in shock. “Wait, how do you—?”
Oh, shit. Regulus hadn’t meant to let that slip.
“Observe,” Regulus replies nonchalantly, giving them both a knowing look. “Your nickname’s Moony, and you are sick every month. It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
Sirius blinks at him, his expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. “You—you knew?” he asks, his voice a little breathless. “How long?”
„Uhm… Since second year I think. I used to watch you all the time because I was extremely jealous. Of James mostly but the others too.”, Regulus admits.
“And you never told anyone?”, Lupin asks him; his face pale.
“No. It wasn’t mine to tell.”
They both look at him. Baffled.
“And”, Sirius starts speaking after a pause, “You’re just…fine with it? With both things?”
“Yes, I am. I’m not like them, Sirius.”, he says; a bit defensive.
“No, I know, but… Not everyone is just fine with stuff like this. I just…”, Sirius trails off.
“Thank you, Regulus”, Lupin tells him; sounding sincere, “for not telling anyone I mean. It means a lot.”
Regulus just nods at him. And then he turns to his brother and asks, a smirk on his face, “How did you manage to pull Lupin? He’s clearly out of your league. Way too hot for you, brother.”
Lupin chokes on air. Sirius gasps dramatically.
“I’ll have you know, some people say I’m quite attractive. And Remus is hot, sure, but I am too.”, he exclaims; glaring at Regulus.
He smirks again, “Who do you mean by some people? Yourself?”
Regulus gets hit in the face by a cushion
---
Regulus is beginning to understand what Pandora meant. Lupin is… surprisingly easy to be around. Kind, in an unassuming way. And, as it turns out, a brilliant teacher. Just like Pandora said. At the moment, he's guiding Regulus through the intricacies of the Muggle world—mostly the music, because that’s what Regulus is the most interested in. But other topics too, like right know. Regulus is far more intrigued than he thought he’d be.
“So, wait,” he says, frowning slightly, “they’ve been to the moon? Like, actually?”
Remus chuckles. “Yeah, Regulus. Actually.”
“And how exactly did they manage that again?” he presses, eyebrows raised.
Remus does his best to explain—something about rockets and physics and NASA. Regulus doesn’t follow every detail, but he listens anyway. There’s something compelling about Lupin’s voice when he talks about things he finds fascinating. And by the end of their little lesson, Regulus feels... different. Not just about Muggles, but about Lupin too.
He realizes he doesn’t mind that Lupin is with his brother. In fact, he doesn’t resent it at all. If anything, he feels a sense of relief—because if Lupin is this thoughtful, this decent, then Sirius will be fine. They’ll both be fine. They won’t have a problem with him either.
Besides, Effie and Monty know. James knows. And none of them seem to have a problem with it. So Regulus doesn’t have to be worried.
Lupin, he’s noticing, is a bit like him. Dry-witted, sarcastic, occasionally snarky, but never cruel. That’s probably why they’ve found common ground so quickly. Regulus won’t say it out loud—not yet—but in the two days Lupin’s been staying over, something between them has shifted. A tentative bond has begun to form. Mostly trough sarcasm.
Here’s how it went:
Regulus lounges dramatically on the Potters’ overstuffed sofa, a mug of cocoa in hand (which he only took to fit in, obviously). The Christmas tree twinkles obnoxiously beside him, and the fire crackles in that insufferably cozy way that makes him want to gag—or maybe that's just the sight in front of him.
Remus Lupin, werewolf, cardigan enthusiast, and tragically smitten idiot, is sitting far too close to his brother. Sirius is smiling like he’s in a romantic novel and not a living room full of judgmental onlookers (namely, Regulus).
He sips his cocoa loudly. “Wow, would you look at that. Love is in the air—or is that just the scent of poor life choices?”
Lupin, to his credit, doesn’t even flinch. “Good evening, Regulus.”
Regulus raises an eyebrow. “Evening? I wasn’t aware we were pretending to be civil now. Should I get the tea and betrayal while we’re at it?”
Remus smirks. “I thought you already brought the betrayal.”
“Touché,” Regulus mutters, narrowing his eyes. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you're still conscious, what with Sirius staring at you like you’re dessert.”
Remus, bless him, blushes a little. “I’m used to it.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Regulus deadpans. “You radiate ‘I’ve been emotionally compromised by a Black’ energy.”
Sirius glares at Regulus. “Play nice!”
Regulus ignores him and turns back to Lupin with a smirk. “So. What’s it like? Dating the family disgrace?”
Remus shrugs. “So far, it involves a lot of dramatic sighing, loud entrances, and emotionally repressed declarations of love. It’s charming.”
“Wow,” Regulus says, blinking slowly. “Sounds like a dream come true. And here I thought romance was dead.”
Remus sips his tea innocently. “It is. He revived it. Very dramatic. There was thunder.”
Regulus glares at his cocoa. “I’m going to need something stronger than this.”
James walks in at that moment with a tray of cookies and that irritatingly domestic grin he always wears during holidays. “Anyone want snacks?”
Regulus doesn’t miss a beat. “Only if they come with a side of therapy.”
Remus chuckles under his breath. “You really should write for a living.”
“Oh, I plan to. My memoir will be titled ‘Surviving the Black Plague: One Sarcastic Slytherin’s Tale of Trauma, Tea, and Tragic Romance Happening in Front of His Eyes’.”
James drops a cookie. “Oh, you’re being sarcastic today. I see. Be careful when he gets like that. He always starts feeling way too sure of himself”, he warns the others.
Sirius slides an arm around Remus and smirks across the room. “Jealous, Reggie?”
Regulus stares at them for a long moment. It feels nice, being called Reggie again by his brother. He’d never admit that though. “Of what? The constant pining? The way you gaze into his eyes like he’s your last meal on death row? The shared sweaters? Please. I have standards.”
Remus smiles sweetly. “Happy New Year’s, Regulus.”
Regulus raises his mug in a toast. “Happy New Years’s, Lupin. May your relationship last longer than your last Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.”
Sirius mutters, “Low blow.”
Regulus just grins. “I aim to please.”
---
After that, Regulus talked to Lupin a lot. Mostly about muggle stuff and mostly it involved a lot of sarcasm. Right now, Regulus is alone though, because Sirius got needy. He said he wanted to have his “boyfriend for himself, thank you very much”.
James is in the garden with Monty. Probably shoveling snow. They always do that without magic and Regulus cannot for the life of him understand why.
Besides Remus, there’s another very sarcastic person he can talk to: Euphemia Potter. That surprised Regulus a bit. The first few days of Regulus living at the Potters’, she was completely honest and sincere. Always sweet and caring. But now, she’s starting to become even more sarcastic than Regulus.
The kitchen at the Potters’ smells like actual heaven. Cinnamon, cloves, something buttery in the oven, and Regulus is standing awkwardly near the counter like he’s about to be assigned a chore—which, knowing Effie, he absolutely is.
She turns from the stove with a wooden spoon in hand and a smudge of flour on her cheek.
“There you are,” she says brightly, “I could use some help. Come stir something so I don’t drop dead.”
Regulus raises an eyebrow. “What a heartwarming invitation.”
Effie grins and hands him a bowl, already stirring something thick and golden. “Welcome to the family, darling. We guilt you and make you peel things.” Regulus chuckles. For this family, he’ll gladly peel things.
He takes the spoon without argument, beginning to stir as she directs. The kitchen is warm and sunlit, despite the snow outside. Everything smells like nostalgia he’s not sure he’s earned.
She’s humming now, something soft and old, swaying gently while she rolls out dough beside him.
After a minute, she bumps his hip. “You’re stirring too carefully. It’s a pudding, not a dark artifact.”
“I don’t want to ruin it.”
“You won’t.” She glances at him, then taps the spoon handle with her finger. “Stir like you mean it. Cooking is just a love spell with more butter.”
Regulus lets out a quiet laugh through his nose. “That sounds like something Slughorn would say after a few too many eggnogs.”
She points the spoon at him. “You’re not wrong. But he’s not entirely wrong either.”
They fall into a comfortable rhythm—her kneading, him stirring, the occasional sassy nudge or sarcastic mutter passed between them like old friends who haven't realized it yet.
Eventually, Effie brushes his hair gently out of his eyes with flour-dusted fingers. She does it without thinking, like she’s done it a hundred times before. And Regulus—normally the king of flinching—just… lets her.
“Look at you,” she says softly, almost teasing. “Helping in the kitchen, not scowling, not cursing anyone. Miraculous.”
He looks down at the bowl. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I already have,” she says, and there’s a knowing glint in her eye.
Regulus pretends not to hear that. But the truth is, his chest feels weirdly full, in a way it hasn’t in a long time. Or ever. She’s the only one who’s allowed to ruffle his hair.
When she leans over to check the oven, humming again, he watches her and blurts out, “You remind me of my mother.”
Effie glances at him. “Hopefully not.” Regulus laughs loudly. That is not what he had meant to say. And her deadpan answer? Oh, Regulus loves her.
“No…Obviously not of my mother,” he gets out. Than says more quietly “More like what my mother should’ve been.”
She pauses, then smiles gently, warmly, heartbreakingly kind. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got enough love stored up to mother half of Britain.”
He nods, staring a little too intently at the pudding.
She reaches over and cups the side of his face, thumb brushing lightly across his cheek. “You don’t have to say it. I know.”
He leans into it—just a little—and murmurs, “I stirred your pudding.”
She grins. “That’s practically a marriage proposal in this house.”
Regulus smiles again. What can he say, she just…manages to bring it out of him.
---
The Potters’ library is warm and golden, with soft snow falling outside the window, muffling the world into stillness. Regulus is tucked into the corner, curled up with a book he’s already read twice but won’t admit to liking. The firelight flickers across his face.
He hears James’s footsteps before he sees him, loud and clumsy and familiar. Regulus doesn’t look up until there’s a soft ahem and a clatter of something on the table nearby.
James is holding a cup of tea and two shortbread biscuits shaped like stars.
“I didn’t know how you take it,” he says awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “So I made it how Remus likes it. You seem like you’d also judge me for bad tea.”
Regulus blinks at him. “...You’re not wrong.”
James smiles, proud of himself for that tiny win, and sets the tea down. “I figured. But, uh… hi.”
“Hi,” Regulus says quietly, then after a beat, “Thank you. For the tea.”
James seems startled by the sincerity, like he expected a jab instead. “You’re welcome. I like having you here, you know.”
Regulus’s mouth turns up at the corner. James really is nice. He can’t believe Pandora is always right about everything. “Sometimes it feels like I snuck into something I don’t belong in.”
James takes a step closer, more careful this time. “You’re not sneaking in. You’re invited.”
Regulus meets his eyes, and something vulnerable flickers there, before he covers it—just a little—with a smirk. “You’re dangerously earnest, Potter. It’s alarming.”
James grins. “And yet, here you are. In a quiet room. Alone with me. Accepting tea. Seems suspicious.”
Regulus huffs a laugh, hiding it behind his cup. Well, James started it this time. Time to get flirty and sarcastic again—
James glances at the shelf behind him, trying to look casual, and somehow bumps into it. A book wobbles, topples, falls—
Regulus reaches out and catches it one-handed, without looking.
James just stares.
Regulus raises an eyebrow. “Gravity works. Just like your knees, apparently, when I get too close.”
James lets out a loud, helpless laugh, cheeks flushed red. “Merlin, you’re good at this.”
Regulus’s voice is softer now. “I’m not, actually. I just—sometimes I say things and hope they land the way I mean them.”
James takes the book from him carefully, like it’s delicate. “This one landed fine.”
There’s a pause—quiet, warm, not awkward.
Regulus breaks it with a barely-there smile. “So… are you always like this then? Bringing tea and compliments to people you sneak up on in libraries?”
James shrugs, pretending to be cool but very much not. He’s still flustered, or so it seems. “Only when I like them.”
Regulus blinks.
“Oh,” he says.
And for once, he doesn’t have a sarcastic comeback.
“Who’s blushing now? — “
“Piss off.”