James
James Potter has spent years perfecting the art of being unseen. He was the agent they sent when they needed someone to blend in, to disappear into the shadows, to become part of the very fabric of a case. He could change his voice, his posture, his entire persona, slipping into a role seamlessly that even the people closest to him wouldn't recognize him. it was second nature now--- or at least, it had been.
Regulus Black wasn’t just another suspect.
James had read his file a dozen times, memorized every detail. The younger son of the infamous Black family. Grew up in the shadow of his brother, groomed for a life of power and prestige but had chosen a different path---one tangled up in a world of crime, deception, and secrets that ran deeper than anyone could trace. The reports painted him as cold, ruthless, untouchable. A calculating mastermind, working alongside Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier on a heist that could shake the city.
It was supposed to be simple.
Get in, get the intel, and get out.
But James had seen thing in Regulus that the reports hadn't captured.
The way his fingers trembled ever so slightly when he lit a cigarette. The brief flicker of hesitation when no one was watching. a split-second pause, an unreadable look in his grey eyes, as if there was something beneath the surface---doubt, regret, maybe even fear.
James wasn't supposed to care about details like that.
But he did.
And worse, he couldn't stop noticing them.
It started small. A casual meeting at a dimly lit bar, where James, under the alias ‘Nate Carter’, had slipped into Regulus’ orbit. A shared cigarette outside, smoke curling between them as Regulus had given him a quiet, knowing smirk. The next time, a poker game in the back of some underground club, where James had let Regulus win just to watch the way he lit up, smug and self-satisfied.
Then, the worst thing that could have happened, happened.
He started looking forward to seeing him.
James wasn’t supposed to care. This was a job. A mission.
But every interaction, every fleeting touch, every smirk and sharp remark had buried itself under his skin.
Regulus was suppose to be the enemy.
So why did it feel like James was the one being pulled under.
James leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply, staring at the evidence board mounted on the wall of his flat.
Photos. Notes. Red string connecting names, dates, places. It was a mess of information, a puzzle he was supposed to solve. His eyes should have been on the bigger picture---the heist, the connections, the job.
But his gaze kept landing on one thing.
Regulus.
A grainy surveillance photo of him standing outside the warehouse, cigarette dangling from his fingers. Another from inside the club, laughing at something Barty had said. A close-up, the sharp lines of his face caught in the dim light, expression unreadable.
James should not be staring at these.
He ran a hand through his already messy hair, frustration curling in his chest. This wasn’t part of the plan. He was supposed to take them down, not get attached.
And yet--
He remembered the last time they had met. The way Regulus had leaned in just a little to close when they talked, his voice low, smooth, dangerous.
" And if I said I don't trust you?"
James had smirked, playing his part. "I'd say you're smarter than you look."
Regulus had exhaled a soft laugh, tilting his head slightly, assessing him. And for a brief second, James had felt something crack in the space between them---something unspoken, something dangerous.
It had passed in an instant.
But James hadn't stopped thinking about it.
His phone buzzed.
James exhaled sharply and reached for it. Sirius.
He hesitated. He already knew what this was about.
After a moment, he answered.
“What?” His voice came out rougher than he intended.
Sirius sighed on the other end. “You tell me. Mate, you’ve been acting weird lately. Don’t tell me you’re actually having fun with this job.”
James scoffed. “Yeah, loads of fun, Sirius. Tracking criminals, getting my hands dirty, pretending to be someone I’m not.”
“that’s never stopped you before.”
James didn't respond. He couldn’t. Because Sirius would hear the lie if he tried to say nothing was wrong.
There was a long pause on the other end. Then Sirius' voice softened, but not in a comforting way. More like he was bracing for impact.
“I know my brother, James."
James' stomach twisted.
Sirius' voice was quiet, but final.
"He's in to deep. There is no saving him."
James closed his eyes, and for a moment, all he could see was Regulus’ face.
The way his smirk curled at the edges when he won a game of poker. The way his fingers ghosted over James' wrist once, barley there, but enough to make James remember it days later. The way, in rare moments of silence, his guard slipped just enough to let something else shine through.
Something James shouldn't be noticing.
Something that made James wonder if Regulus was really as lost as everyone believed.
James inhaled sharply. “I know that.”
“Then act like it.”
The line went dead.
James set the phone down, staring at it for a long moment.
He could still hear Sirius' words ringing in his head.
"there's no saving him."
Sirius spoke about Regulus like he was already lost. Like he had chosen this life, fully and completely, and there was nothing left of the boy he used to be.
But Sirius hadn't seen what James had.
James didn't believe in lost causes.
And if there was even a chance- even the smallest chance- that Regulus wasn't as far gone as everyone thought....
James wasn't sure he could just let him fall.
He exhaled, running a hand down his face. He needed to get his head on straight. Regulus was a job. A case. Nothing more.
So why did it feel like something more?
And worse---why did James want it to be?