The Dying Swan

James watches Regulus closely, offering quiet encouragement as he guides him through each exercise. “Good, just like that,” he says when Regulus completes a particularly challenging set. “You’ve got a strong foundation, we just need to build on it.”

Regulus rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest. James’s praise is… nice. Not something he’s used to, but he doesn’t mind hearing it.

They move on to arm exercises, and Regulus is focused, determined to get through the set without showing any strain. But James steps in, noticing the subtle shift in his form. “Wait,” he murmurs, moving behind Regulus. “You’re putting too much weight on your shoulder.”

Before Regulus can react, James’s hands are on him, gentle but firm, adjusting his posture. Warmth spreads through Regulus’s skin where James’s fingers graze his arms, his back. He tells himself it’s just the heat from the workout, nothing more. But when James lingers for a second longer than necessary, his touch steady and assured, Regulus swallows hard.

“Better?” James asks, his voice low, almost too close.

Regulus exhales sharply, nodding once. “Yeah,” he says, keeping his tone neutral, unwilling to acknowledge the way his pulse has quickened. “Better.”

Regulus has been training with James for a week now. The eating is still a struggle, every meal feels like a battle, but he’s trying. The workouts, at least, are easier to focus on.

Once Regulus finishes, they move on to the next exercise. James hands him a set of dumbbells, his gaze focused and instructive. “Keep your elbows tucked in,” he says, stepping closer, his voice low and steady. “It’s not just about lifting, control the movement on the way down too. That’s where the real work happens.”

Regulus follows the instructions, curling the weight, but he feels James move in behind him, his presence undeniable. James places his hands lightly on Regulus’s arms, following the movement as Regulus lifts. “There,” James murmurs. “Feel that tension? That’s what you want.”

Regulus does feel it. In his biceps, yes, but also everywhere else. James’s breath brushes his skin, and Regulus swears he can feel the warmth radiating off him. His grip on the dumbbells tightens. James is straight, he reminds himself, repeating it like a mantra. James is straight. James is straight.

James moves one of his hands to Regulus’s back, just below his shoulder blade. “Engage here too,” he instructs, pressing lightly. The touch sends a sharp jolt through Regulus’s body, something dangerously close to pleasure.

Regulus exhales slowly, controlling his reaction. He focuses on the weight in his hands, on keeping his movements precise, but it’s impossible to ignore the way James lingers, how effortlessly he invades Regulus’s space.

“Good,” James praises, and Regulus curses the way his stomach tightens at the approval.

They move on to chest presses. Regulus lies back on the bench, and James hovers beside him, watching his form. When Regulus pushes the weights up, James places his hands under his elbows, steadying him. “Slow it down,” James says. “Feel the resistance. Let your muscles do the work.”

Regulus is doing his best to focus, but James is close, too close. His fingers press lightly against Regulus’s skin, adjusting him, grounding him. Every touch burns, every word feels intimate. This is ridiculous. Regulus clenches his jaw, frustrated with himself.

After a few more reps, James straightens, nodding approvingly. “You’re getting stronger,” he says, flashing that stupid, devastating grin.

Regulus sits up quickly, needing distance. His heart is racing, and it has nothing to do with the workout. He grabs his water bottle, taking a long sip, trying to push down the hunger that has nothing to do with food.

James claps him on the back. “Same time tomorrow?”

Regulus nods, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t trust himself to say anything else.

Regulus watches as James grabs his things and heads out, leaving behind an almost unbearable silence.

 With a heavy sigh, Regulus makes his way up to his apartment, unlocking the door and stepping inside before throwing himself onto his beat-up couch. He runs a hand over his face, hating how good James looks in his training gear, strong, confident, and way too distracting.

Before he can dwell on it further, his phone rings. A FaceTime call. He groans and pulls it out of his pocket, answering without checking the caller ID.

Sirius’s face fills the screen, looking positively murderous. He’s wearing an apron, holding a wooden spoon like a weapon.

“About time! You haven’t been answering my calls!” Sirius barks.

Regulus blinks, still caught off guard. “I was training.”

From the background, Remus’s voice chimes in, “I told you so.”

Sirius huffs but doesn’t acknowledge him, narrowing his eyes at Regulus. “Unbelievable. Anyway, the reason I called—” He pauses, eyes sharpening. “Wait. Do you even remember why today is important?”

Regulus frowns, racking his brain. “…Should I?”

Sirius groans, exasperated. “Oh, for—Teddy, Reg! My baby is finally home!”

Regulus blinks. “Wait, what?”

Sirius looks personally offended. “Are you serious? How do you not remember Teddy?! I told you about this! Do you ever pay attention to anything I say?”

Regulus exhales sharply, rubbing his temple. “Right. Teddy.”

Sirius glares at him. “You know what? Forget it. The point is, you’re an uncle now, and you better be here tomorrow at six. With a gift. Something nice. And nothing that makes loud noises.”

From the background, Remus calls out, “And no flashing lights! I read they’re bad for baby eyes.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

Sirius’s voice rings through the phone sharp and demanding. “You better be there, Regulus. I’m tired of you acting like you don’t even know who I am.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, exasperated by his brother’s usual overdramatic tone. Before he can even respond, Sirius hangs up on him without another word. Regulus stares at the screen, confused, the sudden disconnect leaving him momentarily off-balance. He feels a pang of guilt, but he doesn’t know why.

He tries to scan his brain for any memory of Sirius mentioning a baby, anything at all. The more he thinks, the more it eludes him. It’s like trying to grab smoke with his bare hands. Nothing.

Frustrated, he sighs, his shoulders aching from the workout earlier. He can already feel tomorrow dragging ahead of him, like it’s going to be a long, uncomfortable day.

His muscles scream for relief, so he pushes off the couch and heads to the bathroom. 

The hot water feels like heaven as it cascades over him, soothing the tension in his body. Regulus leans against the shower wall for a moment, letting the steam envelop him, and tries to forget about everything and concentrate only on the relaxation.

He takes a deep breath, trying to reset. Tomorrow will come, just like it always does.

...

Regulus wakes as he always does, moving through the motions of his morning routine with quiet precision. Everything has its place, every action a familiar rhythm. He prepares his breakfast and lunch, packing the latter away before sitting down in front of his plate. The food stares back at him, and for a long moment, he simply looks at it, trying to silence the creeping thoughts before they can take hold.

Don’t overthink it. Just eat.

The first bite is the hardest. The eggs are warm, soft on his tongue, but the smell makes his stomach turn. He swallows, focusing on the fact that this is necessary, that his body needs this if he wants to get stronger. But no matter how many times he tells himself it’s worth it, the guilt settles in the moment he finishes, thick and heavy.

Too much.

Regulus exhales sharply and pushes the thought away, grabbing his things before he can dwell on it. He’s already running late.

By the time he arrives at the Royal Academy of Ballet, it’s a little after 6 AM. The building is still quiet, save for the distant echoes of movement and the occasional murmur of conversation. In the rehearsal room, Pandora is already stretching, her wild curls piled into a messy bun, her limbs sprawled out in a way that makes her look more like a cat basking in the sun than a disciplined dancer.

“Morning, Reg!” Pandora practically shouts, flopping onto the floor in an exaggerated sprawl. “You look suspiciously well-rested. Did you, I don’t know, sell your soul for a full eight hours?”

Regulus drops his bag by the wall and lowers himself into a stretch, eyeing her with mild amusement. “I didn’t just roll out of bed,” he replies, voice dry. “Unlike you, I actually have a routine.”

Pandora gasps like he just slapped her. “Excuse me? My routine is a masterpiece of efficiency. Step one: wake up. Step two: deeply regret waking up. Step three: consume an ungodly amount of caffeine. Step four: sprint here on the brink of death and hope my body remembers how to function.”

Regulus huffs a quiet laugh despite himself. “Sounds deeply effective.”

She grins. “Oh, it is. I’m practically a case study in elite athleticism and sheer willpower.”

Pandora eyes Regulus as he stretches, her expression downright devious. “You know what you need?” she says, voice brimming with mischief.

Regulus doesn’t even look up. “If you say ‘a good fuck,’ I’m walking out.”

Pandora gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “Regulus Arcturus Black, how dare you accuse me of such vulgarity?”

Regulus levels her with a flat stare. “That’s exactly what you were going to say.”

She grins, entirely unrepentant. “Fine. But hear me out. You're all broody and tense, and I have the perfect solution. His name is Evan. My twin brother. He’s gorgeous, built like a Greek god...”

Regulus sighs. “No.”

“No?” Pandora repeats, offended. “You haven’t even seen him! At least do me the courtesy of picturing it before you reject the idea.”

Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not interested in dating.”

“Who said anything about dating? I’m talking about stress relief. No strings, no feelings, just two consenting adults...”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re impossible.” She flops onto her back, groaning. “Do you know what happens to people who repress all their tension? They die, Regulus. They just keel over one day, and no one is surprised.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, shifting deeper into his stretch. “Yes, Pandora. I’m sure that’s exactly how it works.”

“I’m just saying,” she continues, grinning, “when you finally do combust from all that pent-up frustration, don’t say I didn’t try to help.”

Regulus exhales sharply, pointedly ignoring her.

She smirks. “Evan has really big hands, you know.”

Regulus tilts his head slightly, pretending not to be intrigued.

Pandora grins like she’s already won.

As rehearsals stretch on, Regulus does what he always does, he pushes himself to the edge of perfection. Every movement is precise, every step executed with discipline honed over years. By noon, he sits with his lunch, forcing himself to eat even as guilt coils in his stomach. He knows he should finish the whole meal, that James will probably ask if he did, but somehow, leaving just a little behind makes him feel more in control. Like he’s tricking his body, shaving off just enough calories to make the anxiety settle. He tells himself he’ll have his afternoon snack. He doesn’t.

By the time rehearsals end, he’s drained, sore, and just ready to go home. But of course Pandora and Dorcas have other plans.

“I’m just saying,” Pandora starts, already grinning like she’s about to wreak havoc. “Evan’s got strong arms, a pretty face, and no brain cells. Ideal stress relief. You need this, Regulus.”

Regulus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I do not need this.”

Dorcas, smirking, leans in. “Yeah, because what you really want is to bend over for your personal trainer.”

Regulus freezes, his entire soul exiting his body. “What.”

“Oh, please,” Pandora groans, rolling her eyes. “The way you look at him? It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not...”

Dorcas interrupts, counting on her fingers. “One: he’s disgustingly hot. Two: he’s stupidly nice to you. Three: you let him touch you...”

“I have to let him touch me,” Regulus hisses, glancing around like the walls might start listening. “That’s his job.”

Pandora claps her hands together like she’s solved a mystery. “Oh my God. You like it.”

Regulus wants the earth to split open and drag him straight to hell. Instead, he scowls. “I hate both of you.”

“Aw, babe, we know,” Dorcas coos. “But seriously, how have you not climbed that man like a tree?”

Regulus stands up so fast his vision wavers. “I’m leaving.”

Regulus wanted nothing more than to go home, take a hot shower, and pass out for at least twelve hours. But instead, he found himself trudging through a toy store, exhausted and vaguely murderous, trying to pick out something acceptable for his nephew, whom he had never met. 

He stood in front of a wall of stuffed animals, running a hand down his face. Something nice. No loud noises. No flashing lights. Sirius’s instructions rattled in his head as he grabbed the first plush thing that looked soft enough for a baby. A stuffed moon with a sleepy face. Good enough.

After paying, he practically dragged himself home, every muscle aching. The moment he stepped inside, he tossed the bag onto the table and eyed his bed longingly. He could lie down or he could shower, but the thought of showing up at Sirius’s place still covered in sweat and rehearsal grime made his skin crawl.

With a resigned sigh, he headed to the bathroom, letting the hot water pound against his sore muscles. It was heaven, until he realized how much time had passed.

“Shit.”

He rushed through getting dressed, shoving the gift under his arm as he hurried out the door, fully aware he was going to be very late.

...

Regulus knocked on Sirius’s door, a full thirty minutes later than he was supposed to. He braced himself for an exasperated remark, a dramatic sigh, maybe even a lecture. But when the door swung open, Sirius wasn’t scowling, he was beaming.

“Reg!” Sirius pulled him into a tight hug before ushering him inside, too excited to even bring up the lateness. “Come in, come in. You have to see him. He’s perfect I mean, I knew he’d be perfect, obviously, but somehow he’s even more perfect now that he's finally here.”

Sirius rambled as he led Regulus through the house, barely stopping for breath. His voice was full of a warmth that Regulus hadn't heard in years, and it unsettled him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

When they reached the living room, Remus was sitting on the coutch, cradling a tiny bundle in his arms. As soon as he saw Regulus, his face lit up with a tired but genuine smile.

“Regulus,” Remus said, tilting the bundle slightly so he could see better. “Meet Edward Remus Black-Lupin. Or Teddy, for short.”

Regulus snorted. “Remus?” He turned to his brother, arching an eyebrow.

Sirius, still grinning like a fool, simply shrugged. “I couldn’t resist.”

Regulus shook his head, but any teasing remark died on his lips when he finally took a proper look at the baby. Teddy was small, wrapped snugly in a soft blue blanket, his tiny hands barely peeking out. He had the chubbiest, rosiest cheeks Regulus had ever seen, a perfect little button nose, and, just as he looked up at Regulus, he gave him a wide, toothless smile.

Something in Regulus’s chest clenched.

He had never been one to fawn over babies, but Merlin, this one was cute.

Remus chuckled, catching the look on Regulus’s face. “Want to hold him?”

Regulus nodded without even thinking. He handed the gift bag to Remus in exchange for the baby, carefully gathering Teddy into his arms. The weight of him was so small, but warm and solid against his chest. Teddy blinked up at him, big brown eyes, lovely and warm, staring right into his own.

“He’s adorable,” Regulus murmured, surprising himself with how soft his voice had gotten.

Sirius dropped onto the couch beside him, watching them with something tender in his expression. “Yeah,” he agreed. “He really is.”

Meanwhile, Remus had pulled the gift from the bag, unfolding the stuffed moon plushie. He turned it toward Sirius, and Sirius’s grin, impossibly, grew even wider.

“This is perfect,” Sirius said, looking back at Regulus with something suspiciously close to gratitude.

Regulus swallowed thickly. Teddy had been in the family for all of a day, and somehow, he was already mending it. There was no bickering, no tension, no lingering resentments. Just warmth, just Sirius smiling at him, just Remus looking content, just a tiny baby sleeping soundly in his arms.

And for the first time in a long, long while, Regulus let himself feel it.

As Regulus and Sirius metaphorically drooled over Teddy, utterly mesmerized by the tiny human in his arms, the doorbell rang. Remus, ever the responsible adult, placed the plushie beside Regulus with a small smmile.

“I’ll get it,” he said, excusing himself.

Regulus barely registered it, too focused on the way Teddy's tiny fingers twitched in his sleep, but a few minutes later, the sound of rapid footsteps caught his attention. He looked up just in time to see a small boy dart into the living room, a package clutched tightly in his hands.

The boy couldn’t have been older than four, with a head full of messy, wavy brown hair and striking green eyes, the kind that could pierce straight through a person’s soul. He wore glasses that were slightly too big for his face, and Regulus had to admit, he was adorable.

The boy stopped in front of them, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Where’s Teddy?” he asked, looking around with wide, eager eyes.

Sirius laughed, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s already chaotic hair. “Easy there, Prongslet. Teddy’s right here.” He gestured toward Regulus, and the boy’s attention snapped to him, or more accurately, to the baby in his arms.

Regulus, feeling slightly out of his depth, lowered his arms just enough for the boy to get a better look. The boy's face split into a bright, delighted grin, and then he turned his gaze up to Sirius with an expression of pure determination.

“Uncle Padfoot, can I be the baby’s godfather?” he asked, voice filled with the kind of conviction only a child could manage.

Regulus let out a quiet chuckle, utterly charmed despite himself.

Sirius hummed, pretending to consider it, tapping his chin theatrically. “Hmm, I don’t know… That’s a very big responsibility.”

Harry’s eyes went comically wide. “Please?” he pleaded. “I’ll do everything! I’ll teach him how to play soccer, I’ll share all my presents, I’ll make sure he never eats the yellow crayons, and I’ll be his bestest friend forever!”

Regulus didn’t even realize he was smiling until his cheeks ached. The sheer sincerity in the boy’s voice made something warm bloom in his chest.

Sirius, finally breaking into a grin, sighed dramatically. “Well, with an offer like that, how could I say no?”

Harry gasped, his entire face lighting up with excitement. He actually jumped, fists pumping in the air. “Yes! I’m the best godfather ever!”

Regulus shook his head fondly, but before he could say anything, Harry suddenly turned to him, squinting as if deep in thought.

“You’re really pretty,” Harry announced.

Regulus blinked. “What?”

Harry nodded seriously, as if he were delivering the most objective fact in the world. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Regulus melted. Completely, utterly, hopelessly melted.

Sirius cackled beside him, clearly enjoying the moment far too much, but Regulus could barely process anything beyond the fact that this tiny human had just rendered him speechless.

Harry, oblivious to the effect he was having, climbed onto the couch beside Regulus and peered up at him with hopeful eyes. “Can I hold Teddy?”

Regulus hesitated, glancing at Sirius for confirmation. Sirius, still grinning, gave an easy nod. “Sure, go ahead.”

With the utmost care, Regulus helped Harry cradle Teddy in his arms, adjusting his grip so the baby was properly supported. Harry’s expression turned awed, his excitement giving way to something soft and reverent.

Harry was whispering softly to Teddy, his little voice barely above a breath, as if he were sharing the most important secrets in the world.

Regulus found himself completely captivated. The way Harry’s tiny fingers gently brushed against Teddy’s hand, the pure adoration in his expression, it was enough to keep Regulus rooted in place, watching with something dangerously close to fondness.

So focused was he on the scene before him that he didn’t even register the approaching presence until he heard his name.

“Regulus?”

His head snapped up, startled out of his trance, and that’s when he saw him.

James Potter stood just inside the living room, beside Remus, all broad shoulders and easy confidence, looking for all the world like a Greek god stepping out of a Renaissance painting. The warm lighting of the room cast a soft glow on his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the mess of dark curls atop his head, the slight smile pulling at his lips.

Regulus swallowed, desperately trying not to look as ridiculous as he felt staring at him.

Before he could even attempt a response, Harry spoke up beside him, his excitement bubbling over.

“Daddy, that’s Teddy! My godson!”

James chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stepped forward. “Yeah? Your godson, huh?” He ruffled Harry’s hair as he moved closer to get a better look at Teddy.

Regulus was still trying to compose himself, but then James leaned in, and the realization hit him like a freight train.

Harry looked just like James.

The same wild hair, the same nose, the same face shape, the only difference was the eyes. Harry’s were striking green, so unlike James’s warm hazel.

Regulus’s lips parted slightly, but he didn’t say a word.

He couldn’t.