Wednesday began like any other. Regulus glided through the halls of Hogwarts with the calculated elegance he had perfected over the years, avoiding unnecessary interactions and blending seamlessly into the sea of students still dragging their morning lethargy behind them. His mind was already set on Potions, the only subject that truly mattered. It wasn’t that he despised his other classes, but Potions was more than just theory and practice—it was an art, a precise science with room for creativity.
Advancing a year in the subject had been a necessary challenge, though not without its drawbacks. Sharing a classroom with the Marauders was a pain, but as long as he wasn’t partnered with any of them, things were tolerable. Remus Lupin was bearable, of course—Regulus even considered him a friend—but the other three were insufferable in their own unique ways: Potter, with his unbearable arrogance; Sirius, with his infuriating nonchalance; and Pettigrew, with his incessant giggling at whatever ridiculous stunt the others pulled.
Regulus stepped into the Potions classroom and immediately sensed that something was off. The atmosphere was charged, tense, as though a silent storm was brewing. His dark eyes swept across the room, taking in the barely contained nerves of some students and the barely contained amusement of others. Bloody hell, he thought, summoning the patience of Morgana. Something was going on, and all it took was a glance at the blackboard to confirm it. Written in neat, precise handwriting was the name of the day’s potion: Amortentia.
Regulus let out a dramatic sigh and collapsed into his seat with absolutely no grace whatsoever—a move entirely unbecoming of a Black. Lily let out a laugh, evidently delighted by his rather childish display.
"Never thought I’d see the heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black throw a tantrum in public," she quipped.
Their first year sharing a class had been...awkward. Lily had assumed he was a blood supremacist, while he had simply tried not to make her uncomfortable with his presence. That had changed when they were paired for a project, and Lily discovered—to her great surprise—that he owned a Muggle ballpoint pen and a copy of The Little Prince tucked away in his trunk. Since then, an odd but solid friendship had blossomed between them.
Over time, their circle expanded to include Remus, forming a small but dedicated book club. They couldn’t have been more different in their approaches—Lily, always analytical and passionate; Remus, contemplative and philosophical; Regulus, pragmatic and detail-oriented. And yet, they all shared a genuine love of literature and enjoyed dissecting books from wildly different angles.
But now was hardly the time for literary musings. Something was about to happen in Potions, and Regulus could feel it in the air.
He shot Lily a murderous glare, but before he could complain further, the Marauders made their grand entrance. Sirius and Remus waltzed in looking entirely too pleased with themselves, lips slightly swollen—Regulus refused to interpret that beyond snogging session. Meanwhile, Peter and James were locked in a heated debate over something related to Transfiguration.
Then James noticed him. His face lit up—well, Regulus hoped that was the case. Because he, undeniably, lit up upon seeing James. His expression softened, warmth creeping up his face. If the relentless teasing from his so-called friends was anything to go by, he was probably sporting the faintest tinge of pink.
And, as if the universe had a personal vendetta against him, the unmistakable scent of Amortentia hit his nose. That familiar sweetness, the crisp forest breeze, old books… and James.
Brilliant.
The lesson progressed as normally as one could expect when the air was thick with the intoxicating scent of the most dangerous potion ever created. Regulus was doing his best not to think about it—not to think about how his brain had instantly, betrayingly, recognised the unmistakable scent of James Potter in the Amortentia. No, that was irrelevant. It meant nothing. It could be due to anything… anything except the obvious.
But, of course, James Potter never let Regulus have a simple life.
“Reg, have you put on extra cologne today or what?” he asked suddenly, with absolutely no sense of self-preservation. “Smells like—I dunno, but something that just reeks of Regulus Black is everywhere.”
The classroom fell into a brief yet eternal silence.
Regulus felt sheer panic crawl up his spine like an Unforgivable Curse. Lily, sitting beside him, shot him a look of surprise and barely restrained amusement, her mouth already parting—no doubt about to make some unbearable remark. He didn’t give her the chance.
“Professor Slughorn, just how dangerous is Amortentia in high doses?” he asked, voice loud and desperate, praying that someone—anyone—would redirect the attention.
Fortunately, Slughorn seemed positively delighted to be consulted during his own monologue.
“Ah, an excellent question, my dear boy!” Slughorn beamed, turning towards the class with his characteristic enthusiasm. “Amortentia does not create true love, of course, but rather a most perilous obsession if misused…”
As the professor launched into a passionate speech, Regulus exhaled sharply, eyes shutting for a brief moment. That had been far too close. He chanced a glance at James, hoping the conversation had moved on, but no. James was now caught in a hushed argument with Sirius, who was shoving him with an expression of amusement and exasperation.
“What do you mean, ‘something that reeks of Regulus Black’?” Sirius hissed, clearly enjoying himself.
James tensed. “That’s not what I meant!” he muttered back.
“Oh, sure, sure, absolutely,” Sirius drawled, a wicked grin stretching across his face. “You know what? I don’t even care—I’m far too busy enjoying the fact that Remus also has me in his Amortentia. Ha!”
“We already knew that, Sirius,” Remus murmured without looking up from his cauldron.
“Yes, well, now it’s official,” Sirius declared smugly.
Regulus let his head drop onto the desk. It was a miracle he hadn’t evaporated from sheer, undiluted humiliation.
And then—James turned to him.
“What about you?” he asked, voice lower now, but still filled with infuriating curiosity. “What does Amortentia smell like to you?”
Regulus swallowed. No. Absolutely not. He could not tell the truth. Not in a million years. Not with James looking at him with that bloody genuine interest, as if the answer mattered.
So, he did the only thing that could save him: he lied.
“Old books,” he said, summoning every ounce of dignity he had left.
Because he was a bookworm. Not because James spent far too much time watching him read in the library.
“Quidditch broom wax.”
Because he was an excellent Seeker. Not because James looked obscenely attractive after a training session.
“The forest.”
Because he liked walking there. Not because James smelled like the woods every single day of his life.
“And chocolate.” He paused. Oh, yes. Here was his escape. “But I don’t like chocolate.”
Because it wasn’t his favourite scent. It was simply the fragrance Mrs. Potter gifted James every year on his birthday.
James parted his lips, his golden eyes shining with something Regulus was absolutely not ready to confront.
“I have to go,” Regulus blurted suddenly, standing so fast that his chair nearly toppled over. “I’m late for Ancient Runes.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t look back. He just walked straight out of the classroom, heart pounding violently in his chest, trying very, very hard to convince himself that the only reason he was fleeing was because he didn’t want to be late.
Yes.
That was definitely it.
─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───
James was in shock.
He remained standing, staring blankly at the door through which Regulus had just bolted, muttering something about being late for Ancient Runes. The problem was that Regulus Black was never late. And he certainly didn’t run. Not like that.
But that wasn’t the real issue. Not compared to the utterly devastating realisation that had just hit him.
Old books. The forest. Chocolate.
His stomach plummeted like someone had hit him with a well-aimed Weighting Charm. Because those things—those things were obviously Remus.
Remus, who lived among dusty old books in the library, folding down the corners of pages despite James repeatedly telling him that was a crime against literature. Remus, who spent full moons in the Forbidden Forest. Remus, who ate chocolate like his life depended on it—because, after a transformation, it sort of did.
It couldn’t be.
And yet, there was the evidence. Regulus Black was in love with Remus Lupin. His friend. His honorary brother. His actual brother’s boyfriend.
James felt distinctly unwell.
He thought he had something with Regulus. He thought he was looked at differently. That when they exchanged banter, Regulus’ tone was light and teasing, not sharp and cruel. That when their eyes met, there was something there—something that made his heart race and his stomach flip.
But… what if it was all in his head? What if he’d been deluding himself this whole time?
“James,” Sirius whispered, nudging him in the ribs. “You’re making that Greek Tragedy face again.”
James barely registered him. He was far too busy resisting the urge to bang his head against the desk.
It wasn’t until after class, when he was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, staring blankly into the fire, that Remus finally intervened.
“Prongs,” he said, in that particular blend of sarcasm and concern that only he could manage so effortlessly. “Seriously?”
James blinked. Then frowned. “What?”
Remus sighed—the kind of sigh that preceded a very obvious lecture given to a particularly dense child.
“You’ve been sulking ever since Regulus sprinted out of Potions.” Remus closed his book and levelled him with a stare. “What now?”
James ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
“Do you know what Amortentia smells like to Reg?” he asked bitterly.
Remus raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”
“Old books. The forest. Chocolate.” James exhaled heavily. “It’s you, Remus. He’s in love with you.”
A silence followed.
Then—Remus laughed.
James gaped at him, deeply offended.
“Why are you laughing?” he demanded.
“Because you’re a complete idiot.” Remus wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and gave James a patient pat on the shoulder. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound right now?”
“Ridiculous?” James repeated, scandalised. “It’s logical! Regulus is in love with you! And I’ve been sat here, like a fool, thinking I stood a chance with him.”
Remus stared at him—like he was waiting for James to catch up with something blindingly obvious. When James remained lost in his misery, Remus decided to help him along.
“James.” He paused meaningfully. “Who is the only person in this castle who wears chocolate-scented cologne because his mother buys it for him every year?”
James frowned. “Well… me, but that doesn’t mean—”
“And who spends ridiculous amounts of time in the library with Regulus, not because they need to, but because they cannot resist correcting his essay even when nobody asked?”
James opened his mouth. Then shut it.
Remus’ lips twitched in amusement.
“And tell me, James,” he continued, voice positively dripping with smug satisfaction, “who—out of all of us—smells like the bloody forest all the time because their Animagus form is a gigantic deer?”
James’ mouth went dry.
“Oh.”
Remus nodded, exaggeratedly patient.
“Yes. Oh.” His smirk grew sharper. “Regulus isn’t in love with me, you genius. He was describing you.”
James felt his brain stutter to a halt.
“But… but…”
“No, no ‘buts’.” Remus clapped him on the shoulder before returning to his book. “Regulus Arcturus Black is completely, hopelessly, painfully in love with you. And you, in your infinite stupidity, decided it had to be me—because obviously, life must be as difficult as humanly possible.”
James opened his mouth to argue… and found nothing to say.
Because now that he thought about it—now that he saw it from the outside—it was so, so obvious. The way Regulus looked at him. The way he tensed when James got too close. The way he had fled for his life when James had asked about Amortentia.
James let his head drop onto the table with a dull thud.
“I’m an idiot.”
“Yes.” Remus grinned. “But an idiot who has a real chance with the little Black. So stop moping and do something about it.”
James sat in silence.
And then—a slow, creeping smile spread across his face.
Maybe—just maybe—Remus had a point.