The Dying Swan

James steps out of the ophthalmologist’s office with Harry in tow, the little boy practically buzzing with excitement. His brand-new glasses sit proudly on his nose, slightly oversized for his small face but fitting him perfectly in every other way. He dashes in circles around James, giggling as he tests how fast he can go without the frames slipping down.

James, phone pressed to his ear, laughs. "No, Lily, you should see him, he's over the moon. Keeps calling himself 'Professor Potter' like he's about to start lecturing me on the laws of physics or something."

Harry pauses just long enough to adjust his glasses, then grins up at his dad. "They make me look smart, don't they?"

James ruffles his hair. "Course they do, kid. Sharp as a tack." Into the phone, he adds, "I think you’re right, though. He’s gonna break 'em within the week. I give it three days."

Lily hums knowingly on the other end. "Two, tops. That child is your son, after all."

James snorts, guiding Harry toward the car. "Oi. I take offense to that. I’ll have you know I was a responsible young man."

"James, you once broke your glasses trying to headbutt a football. A football, James."

"That was a tactical decision," James argues, unlocking the car. He gestures for Harry to climb in. "Anyway, I’ll send you a picture when we get home. Are you and Mary coming over for dinner tonight?"

Lily hesitates, and James can practically hear her smiling. "Mmm, might have to pass. Mary’s taking me out tonight."

"Ah, the infamous Mary MacDonald date night," James teases, smirking as he helps Harry with his seatbelt. "She got something special planned?"

"I don't know," Lily admits, a little too casually. "She just told me to dress nice."

James whistles. "Sounds serious. You think she’s gonna pop the question?"

"James," Lily groans, and he can hear her rolling her eyes. "We’ve only been dating a year."

"Yeah, but that’s, like, five years in lesbian time."

"Goodbye, James."

He laughs. "Tell Mary I said hi. And that Harry and I expect details later."

"Ugh, fine. Give Harry a kiss for me."

"Will do. Later, Lily."

He hangs up, tossing his phone onto the passenger seat before glancing at Harry through the rearview mirror. "Alright, Professor. Ready to show off those specs to Uncle Padfoot?"

Harry nods enthusiastically. "Yeah! And Uncle Moony, too!"

James chuckles as he pulls out of the parking lot. "Let’s see if we can drag Moony away from his books long enough to admire your new look."

The morning is bright, crisp, filled with Harry’s excitement. James feels lighter than he has in days. But in the back of his mind, there’s still that thread of worry. Regulus. The exhaustion. The way he barely ate.

James pulls into Sirius and Remus’s driveway, barely shifting into park before Harry unbuckles himself and scrambles out of the car. He runs up to the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in his excitement, and starts ringing the doorbell with the enthusiasm of a child who has no concept of patience.

Sirius throws the door open with equal energy, sweeping Harry up into his arms. "There’s my favorite four-eyed rascal!"

Harry beams. "Uncle Padfoot! Is Teddy home yet?"

Sirius chuckles, ruffling his hair. "Not yet, kiddo."

Immediately, Harry’s face falls into a dramatic pout. "But he never comes home," he complains, crossing his arms.

Sirius softens, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple. "I know, bud. These things take time. But soon, yeah?"

Harry sighs, as if burdened by the unfairness of the world, but nods. "Okay…"

Sirius bounces him once before setting him down. "Hey, what’s this then?" He taps the frames on Harry’s nose, grinning. "Are these your new genius goggles?"

"Yeah!" Harry perks up immediately. "I look smart—like Daddy!"

Sirius snorts, looking over Harry’s head to smirk at James. "Smart? And your daddy? In the same sentence?" He clutches his chest. "I think I just died a little."

James rolls his eyes, shoving past him into the house. "Har har, very funny. At least I don’t eat crayons."

"That was one time and I was five," Sirius protests, but James has already moved on.

Harry tugs at Sirius’s sleeve. "Is uncle Moony home?"

"Course he is. He’s in his study."

Before Sirius can say another word, Harry bolts up the stairs, calling, "Uncle Moony! Look at my glasses!"

Sirius watches him go, shaking his head fondly. "God, help us if that kid gets any faster."

James smirks. "Just wait till Teddy starts running after him. You’re gonna have your hands full, mate."

Sirius grins, a quiet sort of excitement in his eyes. "Yeah," he says softly. "I can’t wait."

As James follows Sirius into the kitchen, he exhales heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. He knows the adoption process has been draining for both Sirius and Remus, an endless maze of paperwork, interviews, and home visits. But they’re nearly at the finish line now. All that’s left is for the judge to approve it, and then they can finally bring their son home.

Sirius watches him and smirks. "That was a pretty dramatic sigh, Prongs. Something on your mind, or just being your usual theatrical self?"

James rolls his eyes, leaning against the counter. "Just thinking about you and Moony. You’re this close, mate."

Sirius nods, a brief flicker of emotion crossing his face before he shakes it off. "Yeah. Can’t believe it’s actually happening." He grabs two beers from the fridge, handing one to James. "Anyway, changing the subject. Did you meet my darling little brother yet?"

James feels the tips of his ears go warm but tries to play it cool. "Yeah, actually. Spent the whole day at rehearsals with him yesterday."

Sirius raises an eyebrow as he cracks open his beer. "And? Think you can help him?"

James hesitates, his mind flashing to Regulus on the dance floor, his movements precise, his body a masterpiece of control and elegance. His beauty, undeniable. And then James remembers the way Regulus barely ate, how exhausted he looked, and he sighs. "I think so," he says carefully. "With the right training and enough food, I believe I can help him reach his goal."

Sirius lets out a short, sarcastic laugh. "Regulus? Eating properly? Good luck."

James frowns. "Why do you say that?"

Sirius takes a sip of his beer before setting it down with a dull thunk against the counter. "He’s been starving himself for as long as I can remember. You think yesterday was bad? That’s nothing. He’s got all these little tricks."

James straightens. "What do you mean?"

Sirius sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "When he was thirteen, he got stomach ulcers. Could barely eat without being in pain. But instead of anyone worrying about that, his ballet teacher complimented him. Told him he looked great, so thin, so elegant." His expression darkens. "Ever since then, he’s been convinced he has to stay that way. He limits himself to carbs once a day, spends the rest of the day surviving on vegetables or fruit, and drinks more coffee than should legally be allowed. Anything to keep himself going without actually eating."

James clenches his jaw, a wave of concern washing over him. "Christ."

Sirius nods. "Yeah. So, if you think getting him to eat like a normal human being is gonna be easy, you’re in for a hell of a time, mate."

James takes a slow sip of his beer, letting Sirius’s words sink in before asking, “What about training?”

Sirius snorts, shaking his head as he leans back against the counter. “Ballet is Regulus’s entire life,” he says, voice edged with something between frustration and resignation. “When he was fifteen, he got into this insanely competitive boarding school in Russia. The best in the world, supposedly. Seven hours of rehearsal a day, every day. Nothing else mattered.”

James raises an eyebrow, and Sirius continues, “He messed up his shoulder when he was eighteen, he got an overuse injury. The doctor told him he needed corticoid injection.” Sirius huffs out a humorless laugh. “But Regulus wouldn’t take them. He was terrified of what they’d do to his body. He thought he would lose flexibility, make him swell up or gain weight. So instead? He just pushed through it. Worked through the pain like an idiot.”

James frowns, taking another sip of his beer.

"He got signed into a German ballet company at nineteen. And he kept up the same routine, training, performing, barely eating, barely sleeping.” Sirius’s fingers drum against the counter. “When I graduated college, he couldn’t even make it to the ceremony. He had a performance that week. He missed our father’s funeral too.”

James glances at Sirius, noting the tension in his shoulders.

“And now? He’s been in London for almost a year, but I barely see him. He only met Remus a couple of weeks ago.” Sirius shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “It’s like… he’s here, but he isn’t, you know?”

James takes another sip of his beer. He thinks about Regulus, the way he moves, the effortless grace, the sheer power coiled beneath every precise motion. But he’s also thinks about the strain, the exhaustion hiding beneath the perfection. Regulus body won’t hold up forever, not under the weight of starvation and relentless training. Something will break, and James isn't sure Regulus will let himself recover when it does.

He wants to help him. Needs to help him.

His gaze drifts to Sirius, and for the first time, he really sees the resemblance between the brothers. The same pale, storm-gray eyes, the same impossibly dark, silky hair. But Sirius is sharper, rougher around the edges, where Regulus is all smooth elegance, like something carved from marble. And then there’s the beauty mark, that tiny detail just beneath Regulus’s left eye that James can’t seem to stop thinking about. He wonders if anyone’s ever traced it with their fingers, if anyone’s ever kissed it.

Sirius shifts uncomfortably under James’s stare, breaking the moment. “Alright, what the hell are you looking at?”

James blinks, heat creeping up his neck. He can’t exactly say, Sorry, mate, just thinking about how painfully beautiful your brother is. He clears his throat, grasping for something less damning. “Just… realizing how much you two look alike.”

Sirius snorts. “Brilliant. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Before either James or Sirius can say anything else, the sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway, and Remus walks into the kitchen, Harry laughing in his arms. The two of them had clearly been having fun upstairs, the boy’s giggles still floating in the air as Remus sets him down.

“Did you two have a good time?” Sirius asks, his voice warm, watching as Harry wriggles free from Remus’s grasp, eager to get moving.

“We did!” Harry exclaims, a wide grin on his face. “Uncle Moony is the best at games.”

Remus chuckles softly, ruffling Harry’s hair. “He’s quite the competitor, isn’t he?” Sirius says, giving Harry a wink.

“He let me win!” Harry insists with a proud little puff of his chest.

Sirius raises an eyebrow, pretending to be incredulous. “Oh, so it wasn’t a real game then? You just had a free pass?”

Remus smirks. “I’m just trying to teach him the value of winning with grace.”

Harry beams at the praise, looking pleased with himself as he darts over to the kitchen island, ready to dig into whatever food was on its way.

Just as they share a chuckle, there’s a knock at the door. Remus, glancing at the clock and giving Harry one last look, stands to get the food. “That’ll be lunch,” he says, voice light.

James shoots a glance at Sirius, who shrugs and crosses his arms with a mischievous grin. “Oh, I wasn’t planning on cooking on my day off, to be honest.”

“Or any day, for that matter,” Remus adds, voice dripping with sarcasm as he heads toward the door.

James watches the exchange with a soft smile, already used to their playful banter. It was like this in their house, lighthearted, easygoing, and comfortable. Just how he liked it.

A few moments later, Remus returns with the delivery. They all gather around the kitchen island, Harry eagerly unwrapping the boxes as if he’s about to uncover treasure. Sirius, naturally, takes his place at the counter, grabbing another drink and waiting for Harry’s usual excitement to hit.

“This food smells amazing,” Harry announces, taking a deep breath. “Can we eat now?”

“Of course, mate,” Sirius says, ruffling Harry’s hair as he moves to set the table. “It’s all yours.”

The group settles around the island, James feeling the familiar warmth of family.

Harry digs into his food with enthusiasm, a conversation starting to bubble up between everyone.

...

It’s Wednesday afternoon, just past 2 p.m. James is standing by the door, checking his watch as he taps on his phone, waiting for Regulus to show up. He’s late.

Just as James is about to send a message, the door swings open, and Regulus rushes in, breathless. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

James waves it off with a smile. “It’s fine. No worries.”

Regulus is dressed in his ballet training outfit, shorts and a fitted shirt, just missing the tights. James notices for the first time how smooth Regulus’s legs are, the kind of smoothness that only comes from shaving. He quickly pushes the thought aside, not wanting to make it awkward for him.

Regulus catches James's gaze lingering on his legs and shrugs. “I came straight from rehearsal,” he explains, his voice a little defensive.

“That’s fine,” James says, turning to grab a couple of sheets of paper from his bag. He hands them to Regulus. “Here. These are your exercise sheets, and this” He taps the other paper “is your new meal calendar.”

Regulus flips through the pages. His eyes widen as he sees the descriptions and recipes for all sorts of meals. Then his gaze narrows at the number at the top of the page: 3,000 kcal a day.

He looks at James, then back down at the paper, shaking his head. “I—I can’t do this.”

James tilts his head, eyebrow raised. “Why not?”

Regulus hesitates, scrambling for an excuse. Finally, he mutters, “I’m vegan.”

James smiles, mischievously. “That’s no problem. We can supplement with protein shakes, you know? Like those bulky guys at the gym use.”

Regulus's eyes flicker to the side, and he shakes his head, panic creeping in. Oh no, that kind of look... the bodybuilder look... it can ruin his career.

James doesn’t miss a beat. “There are plant-based proteins, too. We can work around that.”

Regulus opens his mouth, clearly wrestling with himself. After a long pause, he sighs and looks away. “It’s not that.”

James’s eyes narrow slightly. “Then what’s the problem?”

Regulus looks down at the meal plan and takes a deep breath, finally admitting, “I can’t eat 3,000 calories a day. I’ll get fat.”

James’s expression hardens, a knowing look crossing his face. “I knew it.”

James exhales, stepping in just a little closer, his voice dropping into something smoother, more assured. “I’ve done the math. With all the rehearsals and training, you’re burning at least 2,000 calories a day. You need to build mass if you want real strength, but trust me, these meals are balanced. You won’t be gaining fat, only muscle.”

Regulus shakes his head, frustration tightening in his chest. He’s worked too hard for this, for every sharp angle, every hollowed-out line. He can’t just undo it. He can’t let himself get heavier.

James feels his frustration grow. “Regulus, listen. I know you’re scared of gaining weight. But trust me, this is about building muscle, not fat. You’ve got to fuel your body if you want to reach your potential.”

Regulus stays silent, but his gaze flits away from James, looking anywhere but him. James steps forward, placing a hand on Regulus’s shoulder, his voice soft but firm. “I talked to Sirius. I know what you’ve been doing. Skipping meals, smoking, drinking coffee to skip food. I understand why you’re doing it, but it’s not helping you. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Regulus tenses at the mention of his brother, his eyes widening in alarm. “You… you talked to Sirius? About what I eat?”

James nods, his expression serious. “I won’t let you hurt yourself. Trust me, I’ll help you get to where you want to be. We’ll do this the right way.”

Regulus hesitates, uncertainty etched across his face. The room feels weighted with silence as James watches him, eyes wide and imploring. Slowly, Regulus exhales, relenting.

"Fine," he mutters, though reluctance lingers in his tone.

James grins, his eyes lighting up. “Great. Now, you’re going to quit smoking, stop skipping meals, and we’ll start with the training. It’ll be hard, but you’ll see the results.”

Regulus’s stomach churns with nerves. Maybe he should’ve just walked away. He already regrets his decision, but something about James’s determination makes him feel like he has no other choice.

“Yeah,” Regulus mutters, his resolve already wavering. “Great.”