Silent Storm
The room at headquarters was quieter than usual, the usual noise of bustling activity and low chatter replaced by a stillness that felt too heavy, too oppressive. James sat at the table, eyes scanning the stack of reports in front of him, but his mind was elsewhere. It was hard to focus on anything other than the way Regulus had pulled away from him after the mission, the way their brief, almost-intimate moment in the safe house had hung between them ever since.
He hadn’t seen Regulus much since then—he was always either in meetings or off by himself, the same cold exterior back in place. But every time James looked up, he saw the faintest glimmer of something more beneath that mask. Regulus might have perfected the art of distance, but he hadn’t managed to mask the little flickers of emotion that crept into his eyes when he thought no one was watching.
James caught himself looking at him again, and when Regulus's gaze met his, it was quick—too quick—and he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on something else.
Regulus had been like this since the mission ended. Detached, distant, as though nothing had changed. As though James hadn't seen the vulnerability, the crack in his carefully built walls, during that moment in the hallway. It hadn’t been a kiss—no, not quite—but it had been something close. And now it felt like they were both just trying to pretend it hadn’t happened.
But James couldn’t pretend anymore. Not with the way his pulse still raced when he saw Regulus’s sharp eyes, the way the memory of his touch lingered in his mind.
It was then that Regulus approached the table, moving with his usual quiet confidence, but something was different in the way he carried himself—his movements sharper, more clipped. His gaze flicked briefly to James before he went to sit across from him.
The space between them was charged, like static in the air, and James could feel it pulling at him, tugging at something deep inside. His mind was racing, caught in the whirlwind of his own thoughts, but his attention snapped back to Regulus when their knees brushed as Regulus sat down.
It was a small thing, just a fleeting touch, but it felt like a spark in the dead silence of the room. Regulus’s eyes flicked to James, wide for a brief second—almost startled—before he quickly shifted away, his posture stiffening. The sudden fluster on Regulus's face was subtle, but it was there. For a split second, the cold mask slipped, and James saw it: a brief crack in the armor, a flash of something deeper—something more raw, more human, than Regulus ever allowed anyone to see.
James’s breath caught in his chest, his heart pounding as the realization hit him like a tidal wave. It’s not just the mission,he thought. It’s him. Regulus. There’s something more going on here, something I didn’t see before.
Regulus didn’t say anything, but his eyes remained trained on the papers in front of him, refusing to meet James’s gaze. The tension in the room was palpable, thick with everything they weren’t saying. But before either of them could break the silence, the door to the room creaked open, and Moody’s voice cut through the moment like a dagger.
"Potter. Black. We’ve got work to do."
The spell was broken.
James blinked, startled by the intrusion, and Regulus straightened his back, his usual aloofness returning in an instant, as though nothing had happened. The crack in his facade was gone, buried under layers of indifference. Regulus stood without a word, collecting his papers and moving toward the door, his shoulders rigid, his face unreadable once more.
But James stayed seated for a moment longer, staring at the space where Regulus had just been, his mind spinning. The question—what happened between them?—was louder than ever now.
What was going on between them? He’d thought it was just the mission, just the adrenaline, but now… now he wasn’t so sure.
He stood up slowly, following Regulus out the door, but the feeling hadn’t faded. If anything, it was more present than ever.
The meeting room was empty now, the usual hustle of orders and debriefs fading away, leaving just James and Regulus alone in the dim light. Moody had been abrupt as always, barking orders before leaving them to prepare for the next step in the mission. James had been half-expecting more tension after the look Regulus had given him earlier, but now, in the stillness, everything felt different. There was something hanging in the air between them—something both undeniable and unspoken.
Regulus stood by the table, flicking through more reports, his face impassive, but there was a slight tension in his shoulders, as though he were just waiting for something. Or perhaps, someone.
James couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t let the moment from earlier just slip away. The way Regulus had flinched, the crack in his cold demeanor—it had stirred something in James that wouldn’t quiet down. So, he took a breath and decided, in the way he often did, to just go for it.
"Regulus," he said quietly, breaking the silence.
Regulus didn’t look up, his eyes still fixed on the file in his hands. "What now, Potter?" His voice was the same dry, dismissive tone as always, but there was a slight edge to it, one that James had come to recognize. Regulus was trying to hide something, trying to keep his guard up. It was a game, and James had become very good at playing it.
"How do you think we’re going to pull this off? The next part of the mission, I mean. The infiltration?" James kept his tone casual, but the undercurrent of something deeper was there, hanging just beneath the surface.
Regulus let out a breath, dropping the file on the table and finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were intense, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in them that James couldn’t quite place. "We’ll do what we always do, Potter. Make it work."
But there was something more there. The way Regulus spoke, so sure of everything. He had always been so self-contained, so guarded, but now… James could see the strain in his posture, the way his hands clenched when he wasn’t speaking.
James stepped closer, feeling that familiar heat between them. "Is that all you’ve got? A little more enthusiasm would be nice, don’t you think?"
Regulus arched an eyebrow. "You want me to be enthusiastic about this mission? After everything we’ve just been through?"
"No," James said, his voice softening. "I want you to stop pretending you don’t care. About the mission, about this… about us."
The words hung between them like a dangerous threat. Regulus’s eyes widened, the briefest flicker of surprise crossing his features before he schooled them into his usual icy mask.
"Potter, I—"
James didn’t give him the chance to finish. He stepped closer, the air thick with tension, and gently placed a hand on Regulus's waist—just a soft, fleeting touch, but it was enough. His fingers brushed the fabric of Regulus’s shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin through the material. The moment his hand made contact, Regulus froze. He didn’t pull away. In fact, he seemed to stiffen even further, as though unsure whether to move or stay still.
For a split second, the world around them seemed to blur. James could feel the heat of Regulus’s body under his palm, the sharp inhale that followed, and the subtle tension that rippled through him. It was a delicate thing, this moment—too soft, too fleeting for words, but enough to make James’s heart race.
Regulus’s eyes flickered down to the hand on his waist before meeting James’s gaze again. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tremor in his voice when he spoke. "You’re crossing a line, Potter."
James’s hand remained where it was, just for a moment longer. "Maybe I don’t care," he murmured. His thumb brushed against Regulus’s waist, a subtle movement, but it felt like an invitation. "Maybe I think this is something worth crossing for."
Regulus’s breath hitched, just slightly, and for a brief second, James saw it—the vulnerability that had been lurking just beneath the surface. The rawness. The emotion. It wasn’t just about the mission. It was about something else. Something neither of them were willing to confront—until now.
But before either of them could say another word, the door to the room creaked open, and Moody’s voice boomed from the threshold. "What the hell are you two doing?"
Both of them jumped, the moment shattered instantly, like glass falling to the floor.
James quickly pulled his hand away, heart pounding in his chest as he took a step back. Regulus’s expression was once again a mask of indifference, but James could see the faintest flush creeping up his neck—one that didn’t go unnoticed.
"We were just…" James’s voice trailed off, but the words didn’t matter. Moody’s glare was enough to end the conversation before it even started.
"Get moving," Moody barked. "We’ve got work to do. No time for your distractions."
As he turned and left, the door swinging shut behind him, the tension that had been building between James and Regulus hung in the air like an unresolved spell.
James met Regulus’s gaze one last time before turning to follow Moody. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that things between them had shifted—like that soft touch had torn down another wall, and whatever had been left unspoken between them was now impossible to ignore.
Moody’s heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, leaving behind the uncomfortable silence that once again enveloped the room. James hesitated, still feeling the heat of the moment linger, the ghost of his touch still sharp against his fingertips. He was acutely aware of the distance between them now, the wall that had just been silently erected by the interruption.
Regulus stood still, his back to James, his jaw clenched. He was trying, in his usual way, to regain control. His voice was as cold as it ever had been when he spoke, but there was an edge to it—something unsteady that James couldn’t ignore.
"You’re really pushing your luck, Potter," Regulus muttered, not turning around. "You know, I’m not some bloody toy for you to... play with."
James felt a knot tighten in his chest at the words, but he refused to back down. Regulus always had a way of throwing up walls, of deflecting anything that could make him feel vulnerable. He’d always used his sharp words and icy demeanor to protect whatever he didn’t want anyone to see, and James wasn’t foolish enough to think he didn’t know that.
"I’m not playing with you," James said, his voice a little quieter than he intended. The words felt heavy now, weighed down by something else. Something deeper.
Regulus turned slowly, finally meeting his gaze with that unreadable look that James had come to both dread and crave. His eyes were dark, but there was something there—something James could see flickering beneath the cold mask. Regulus was angry, but more than that, he was… hurt? Vulnerable? It was hard to tell, but it was enough to make James take a cautious step forward.
"You think you can just touch me and pretend everything’s fine?" Regulus sneered, his voice laced with scorn, but there was a shakiness to his words, as though he were struggling to keep up the act. "You think you can just cross lines and leave it at that?"
James held his ground, fighting the urge to look away. "Regulus, I—"
But Regulus was already cutting him off, taking a step closer. His expression was a mix of annoyance and something darker, and for a moment, it was like all the walls James had thought he’d broken down in the past few hours slammed back up with a vengeance.
"If this is some stupid dare for you, Potter," Regulus said, his tone suddenly sharper, more biting than before, "you can stop now. I’m not some bloody prize you get to claim, not some game for you to play with. So don’t think for a second that I’m just here for your amusement."
James’s heart pounded, the words hitting him harder than he expected. He hadn’t realized how much they’d been building between them—how much Regulus had been holding back. The harshness in Regulus’s voice, the bitterness, the underlying pain—it was all there now, raw and unfiltered.
James opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come out. He could feel the weight of Regulus’s accusation hanging in the air like a cloud, suffocating him, and he realized just how much he had misjudged the situation.
Regulus wasn’t angry just because James had touched him. He wasn’t angry because of some game James had been playing. Regulus was angry because there was something real between them, and that was what scared him.
James took a step forward, voice barely a whisper now. "I don’t think you’re a game, Regulus."
But Regulus just shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You don’t get it, do you?" He took another step back, eyes never leaving James’s face. "I’m not some fucking challenge for you to conquer. If that’s all this is—if this is just another one of your stupid dares to get under my skin—you can walk away right now. I’m not something for you to toy with."
The words stung more than James cared to admit. He had never thought of Regulus as a prize, never seen him as a challenge. But hearing Regulus say it made him question everything—their interactions, the moments between them that seemed to carry more weight than they had any right to.
"I’m not playing, Regulus," James said, his voice low but steady. "But I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not—" He stopped, trying to find the right words, but they didn’t come. "I’m not doing this to hurt you."
Regulus didn’t say anything for a long moment. His gaze flickered away, his expression unreadable once more. It was like he was searching for something, some reason to believe James’s words, but he couldn’t find it.
Finally, he exhaled sharply, his voice barely above a whisper. "You’re not the only one who’s confused, Potter." His gaze flicked back to James, his eyes dark and guarded again, like he was putting the walls back up, brick by brick. "But you need to stop pretending this is just some game. Because I’m not playing."
And with that, Regulus turned on his heel and walked to the door, the quiet tension between them only growing as he reached for the handle. James stood frozen, every word that had been said echoing in his head, and for a split second, he wondered if he'd just destroyed whatever had been building between them.
Before Regulus stepped out of the room, he turned back, his voice cutting through the silence one last time. "Don’t make a mistake, Potter. I’m not someone you can just… walk over."
And with that, he was gone, leaving James standing in the room, feeling the weight of his words settle deep inside him.
The door clicked shut behind Regulus, leaving James standing in the middle of the room, the sting of Regulus’s words still echoing in his ears. The air felt thick now, heavy with the weight of the moment, and James couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just let something precious slip through his fingers.
But he wasn’t going to let it end like that.
He wasn’t going to let Regulus’s harsh words define what this had become between them. James had never been good at backing down, especially when it came to something he truly cared about—something he couldn’t explain but couldn’t ignore either.
He couldn’t just let Regulus walk away. Not now. Not when something inside him—something raw and real—had shifted so irrevocably.
Taking a deep breath, James turned toward the door, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t going to let it slip away. He wasn’t going to let Regulus think that this was just another game.
He reached for the door handle, his hand trembling slightly as he turned it.
James stepped into the hallway, and for a moment, he just stood there, trying to steady his thoughts. His mind was a swirl of emotions—anger, confusion, fear—but underneath it all was something more. Something that he knew he had to confront, something that couldn’t be ignored any longer.
He spotted Regulus further down the corridor, walking with his usual stiff posture, his head slightly down, as though trying to retreat into the cold, distant shell he wore like armor.
"Regulus!" James called out, his voice louder than he intended. The sound of his name in the air made Regulus pause, his shoulders tensing for a split second before he slowly turned to face him.
Regulus’s eyes flickered over him with that usual detached look, but James wasn’t going to let that stop him. He was done running from what he felt.
“I’m not playing,” James said, his voice steady now, cutting through the distance between them. “And I’m not going anywhere. I won’t back off, no matter how many walls you put up.”
Regulus didn’t respond right away, but James could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. For a brief moment, the cold mask faltered—just the slightest crack—and James pressed on.
"I don’t know why this is happening. I don’t know why I feel the way I do about you," James admitted, his voice quieter now, more raw than he’d intended. "But what I do know is that this isn’t a game for me. And it’s not some dare to see how far I can push you." He took a step forward, his eyes locked onto Regulus’s. "I’m not going to walk away from this. I want to try—try with you."
Regulus’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move. James could feel the tension radiating off him, the internal battle that was clearly raging within. He knew that Regulus wanted to say something—anything—but he was holding himself back, like he always did.
“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, Regulus,” James continued, his words slower now, deliberate, as though he was trying to peel back the layers. "I know I’m not supposed to feel this way. I know we’re supposed to be enemies. But I can’t pretend anymore. This thing between us—it’s real. And I’m not running from it."
There was a long pause, an unbearable silence stretching between them. James held his breath, waiting for Regulus to say something—anything—but Regulus was still just standing there, looking at him with that unreadable expression.
“You don’t have to say anything,” James said finally, his voice quieter. "I just wanted you to know. I’m not playing games. I’m serious about this." He took another step forward, closing the distance between them until they were standing mere feet apart. "And if you can’t trust that, then I guess I’ll have to prove it to you."
Regulus’s gaze flickered, and for the briefest moment, there was something in his eyes—something vulnerable, something that didn’t belong to the mask he wore. James could see the hesitation, the fear, the doubt. Regulus was torn, but he couldn’t deny that there was something in his voice that was more than just deflection now.
“I don’t need you to prove anything to me, Potter,” Regulus finally said, his voice softer than before, but still carrying that sharp edge of caution. "I don’t need you to do this."
But James wasn’t backing down. Not now.
“I’ll prove it anyway,” James said with a quiet determination, his voice low and unwavering. “Because I’m not going anywhere, Regulus. And if this is something you need to push away—something you need to run from—then I’ll wait. But I’m not leaving. I’m not going to pretend like what’s between us isn’t real.”
Regulus was silent for a long moment, the tension between them palpable. His eyes flickered to the floor, his fingers twitching at his sides. But he didn’t pull away. He didn’t shut James out.
“I’m not like you, Potter,” Regulus said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he were admitting something he didn’t want to. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be what you want me to be.”
James shook his head, reaching out, closing the distance. “I don’t want you to be anything but yourself, Regulus. I don’t need you to change for me. I just need you to believe me when I say this isn’t a game. This isn’t some dare. This is me, trying to be real with you.”
Regulus didn’t say anything at first. The words seemed to hang in the air between them, too heavy to ignore. But slowly, just slightly, he nodded, his gaze still averted, but there was a flicker of something there. Something softer than James had ever seen from him.
James took a slow breath. "I know it’s not easy. And I don’t expect you to just—" He hesitated, not sure how to finish the sentence. He wasn’t asking for answers, not yet. "But just know, Regulus. I’m not backing off. I’m here. And I’m serious."
Regulus’s eyes met his again, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. They stood there, caught in the quiet tension that swirled between them, neither of them speaking, both of them aware of how much had shifted.
Finally, Regulus spoke, his voice quiet but not as cold as before. "You’re making a mistake, Potter."
James smiled softly, a quiet challenge in his eyes. "Maybe. But I’ll take my chances."