Shifting Boundaries
The aftermath of the mission hung over them like a thick fog, and James couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. It wasn’t just the tension of the mission itself—of being undercover, playing roles they were never meant to play. It was something else. Something between him and Regulus.
They hadn’t spoken about it. Not directly. It was as though that moment—the near-kiss, the brush of lips that had almost shattered their carefully constructed barriers—had never happened. But James knew it had. He could feel it, every time Regulus’s gaze flicked to his, every time their hands brushed in passing. It was always there now, lingering like a whisper neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
It wasn’t just the mission that had changed things. It was the way they had looked at each other afterward, the way Regulus had pulled away, his usual cold mask slipping for the briefest moment. It was the way James had wanted to reach out, but the words had caught in his throat.
They were back in the safe house now. The room was quiet, save for the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. Moody had debriefed them earlier, asking about the intel they’d gathered, the names they’d heard whispered among the purebloods, the faces they’d studied in the shadows. Regulus had answered with his usual detachment, and James had followed his lead, giving only the necessary details. Neither of them had brought up what had almost happened. Neither of them had brought up anything about the night that felt far too close for comfort.
James sat on the couch, his legs sprawled out in front of him, trying to focus on the reports in his hands. But every time he glanced up, Regulus was there, looking at him with that unreadable expression. And it made his heart race, in a way he couldn’t explain.
“So,” James said, breaking the silence, his voice light. Too light. “How’s life treating you now that we’re out of danger, ‘darling’?”
Regulus didn’t react immediately, his eyes still trained on the file in front of him. “You’re a nuisance,” he muttered, flipping a page as though nothing had changed.
But James saw the tension in the way Regulus held himself. The way his fingers tightened on the paper. “What, you don’t miss the chaos? I thought I’d be the most entertaining part of your life by now.”
“Keep dreaming,” Regulus replied, though his voice was softer than usual. “You’re the last thing I need right now.”
James’s smile faltered slightly. “Yeah, well... You’re not exactly a walk in the park either.” He tried to shrug it off, but the words tasted bitter on his tongue. “You didn’t have to be so stiff the whole time, you know.”
Regulus’s gaze flicked to him, sharp and cold. “What do you mean by that?”
James leaned back on the couch, watching him carefully. “You’ve been... distant. Even more so than usual. Is there something wrong, Regulus?”
For a moment, Regulus didn’t respond, his expression still a mask of indifference. But James could see it in his eyes—there was something underneath. Something he didn’t want to deal with. Regulus closed the file with a sharp motion, setting it aside, and finally, he looked at James fully.
“I’m fine, Potter,” he said, voice low but controlled. “I don’t need you to worry about me.”
James couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang at the words. Regulus had always kept people at arm’s length, always distanced himself from anything that could be considered personal. But James had seen a crack in that armor, just a tiny one, when they were in the middle of that mission. A moment of vulnerability that Regulus had immediately shut down.
“I’m not worried,” James said, though his tone betrayed him. “I just don’t want to be treated like a bloody burden.”
There was silence between them, thick with unspoken things. The way Regulus wouldn’t meet his gaze. The way James couldn’t quite let go of the moment that hung between them, like a thread waiting to snap.
“Potter...” Regulus’s voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
James’s breath caught, and for a split second, he thought Regulus might actually open up. But then the moment passed, like it always did. Regulus pulled himself back, cold again, as though nothing had shifted.
“You don’t have to apologize,” James said, more quietly now. “But you can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine.”
Regulus met his gaze then, his expression unreadable, but James could feel the weight of his words. There was something more—something deep inside Regulus that he couldn’t admit, something James could see but didn’t fully understand.
Before either of them could say anything else, there was a knock on the door, breaking the silence. It was Moody, calling for them to head out for another meeting. Their time for pretending to be normal was over. The mission was far from finished.
But as they left the safe house, walking side by side toward the briefing, James felt that familiar tension between them, only now it was different. It wasn’t just the mission hanging over their heads. It was something else. Something they had barely started to explore.
And when Regulus’s shoulder brushed against his, it felt almost like an accident. Almost.
As they walked into the meeting room, the usual faces of the Order stared back at them. Moody was already speaking, detailing their next steps, but all James could focus on was Regulus, standing just a bit too close. The subtle brush of their arms as they moved, the way their eyes met for a second longer than usual. It was a language they didn’t speak aloud, but they both understood.
The conversation shifted to strategy and next plans, but James found it hard to follow. The tension between him and Regulus was growing, thick and undeniable, and as much as he tried to ignore it, it was always there, lingering in the space between them. It wasn’t just the mission anymore. It was something more. Something far more dangerous.
After the meeting wrapped up, Regulus was quick to stand, gathering his things, his movements deliberate and quick, but James could still see it—the hesitance in his posture, the way his fingers twitched, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to.
“Potter,” Regulus’s voice broke through the haze of thoughts in James’s head. He turned to look at Regulus, who was standing by the door, eyes hard but something flickering beneath them.
James took a step toward him, his heart in his throat. “Yeah?”
Regulus didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he just looked at James, his gaze lingering with an intensity that made the air around them feel heavy. “This... it can’t happen. Not here. Not now.”
James nodded, trying to ignore the disappointment that tugged at his chest. He understood. He did. But it didn’t stop the words from aching in the pit of his stomach.
“Okay,” James said, voice tight. “I get it.”
Regulus didn’t move. Instead, he stared at James for a moment longer, then finally, as if with a deep sigh, walked out the door, leaving James standing there, the echo of his absence louder than any words they could’ve said.
The door clicked shut, and James was left alone, the silence pressing in on him. He hadn’t expected it to be easy, but the weight of what was unspoken between them was unbearable. It wasn’t just about the mission anymore. It wasn’t just about fighting in a war.
It was about something else. Something neither of them was ready to face.