A Game of Secrets
Regulus had never understood Muggles’ fascination with pointless games. He had been raised to believe intellect and strategy were everything. And yet, there he was, in his fifth year at Hogwarts, watching with thinly veiled scepticism as Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon laughed, bumping their fists together before opening them in different shapes.
“What exactly are you doing?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
Lily shot him a mischievous grin.
“You’ve never played rock, paper, scissors?”
Regulus blinked. Rock, paper, what?
Five minutes later, after receiving an unnecessarily detailed explanation, he discovered the game wasn’t as absurd as he had initially thought. There was something intriguing about the simplicity of chance mixed with the ability to predict someone else’s behaviour. Within an hour, he had developed an unbeatable strategy that left Lily and Marlene increasingly frustrated.
“This is unfair!” Marlene huffed. “You can’t win every time!”
“It’s hardly my fault you’re predictable,” he replied with a satisfied smirk.
A few days later, in one of his letters to Andromeda, he mentioned his new pastime. She wrote back with something that made his heart beat just a little faster.
"Curiously, I found a Muggle book that mentioned how, in China, there’s a way to confess through this game. You throw paper (5), scissors (2), and rock (0), forming 520, which apparently sounds similar to ‘I love you’ in Mandarin. Then again, the book was badly translated into French, so who knows if it’s true."
Regulus laughed, but the idea lodged itself in his mind. Not that he planned to use it. It wasn’t as if he had anyone to confess to.
Or so he thought—until he realised he’d been in love with James Potter for months.
The issue with James was that he was irritatingly charming. Regulus had tried—he really had—to ignore that easy smile, the way he ruffled his hair as though posing without meaning to, and, worst of all, his relentless kindness. For someone so loud and meddlesome, James had never once been cruel to him.
And that was a problem.
So, in a moment of impulsivity (which he would later justify as a social experiment), Regulus decided to test out the 520 combination whenever they played.
To his horror, James never noticed.
“I always win against Reggie!” James boasted one evening in the Gryffindor common room, where, for some reason, they had all gathered.
Regulus felt a chill run down his spine.
“That’s impossible,” Sirius cut in from his place on the sofa, Remus beside him flipping through a book. “Since he learnt how to play, no one beats him. Not even Barty.”
Regulus held his breath. Maybe James just hadn’t been paying attention.
“No, really,” James insisted. “He always throws the same moves. Paper, scissors, rock.”
Sirius frowned and slowly turned to look at Regulus, who wished—truly wished—he could evaporate on the spot.
“Reg?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Regulus said, summoning every ounce of dignity he had.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Barty sat up, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Did you say paper, scissors, rock? That sounds awfully familiar…”
Regulus shot him a murderous glare, but it was too late. Barty snapped his fingers, then let out a delighted cackle.
“Oh! Oh! Now I remember! Andromeda mentioned that in one of her letters, didn’t she? The whole ‘Chinese confession’ thing. 520, ‘I love you’, blah blah blah—”
The silence that followed was deafening.
James blinked. Then blinked again.
“…What?”
Regulus wanted to throw himself out of the nearest window. Or strangle Barty. Or both.
“No,” he said quickly. “Barty is imagining things.”
“Oh, am I?” Barty sing-songed. “Because I distinctly remember reading about it in one of your letters when you forgot to shut it in the common room.”
“You’re a menace.”
“Thank you, I try.”
Meanwhile, James had gone utterly silent, his expression unreadable, his gaze fixed on Regulus as if piecing together a puzzle.
“Do you still have that book?” Remus asked suddenly, addressing Sirius, who was still caught somewhere between confusion and amusement.
“What book?” Sirius replied.
“The one on Chinese culture. The Muggle Studies book you borrowed from the library.”
“Oh. Yeah, it’s in my trunk. Why?”
Remus didn’t answer, but his smile was entirely too suspicious. And that was not reassuring.
Regulus panicked.
“Well, I’m off,” he announced abruptly, standing up. “It’s been a pleasure, but I have far more important things to do than listen to this nonsense.”
James stood almost at the same time.
“Regulus, wait—”
“No.”
“Reg, just—”
“No.”
Regulus fled the common room at a speed that suggested genuine fear for his life. He heard Sirius burst into laughter and Remus say something about leaving him alone, but the only thing running through his mind was catastrophic humiliation.
Because if James truly understood what it meant, if he really put all the pieces together…
Regulus was doomed.
And the worst part?
He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be saved.