Through Enemy Eyes

The days that followed the conversation in the hallway felt heavier, laden with the weight of unsaid words and unspoken tension. James kept his distance, but only in the physical sense. In every glance, every stolen moment, he was quietly reassuring himself that this was real. That this was more than a passing idea, more than just an impulse.

It wasn’t a game.

He had told Regulus as much. And now it was time to prove it.

It was late when the opportunity arose. The headquarters had quieted down, the usual bustle of the Order stilled for the night. Most of the members had retreated to their rooms, save for a few stragglers who lingered by the fire. James had come down for a drink, needing to clear his head after a long day of training. He hadn't planned to find Regulus still at the table, his back hunched over a stack of papers, scribbling something furiously.

James felt his heartbeat quicken as soon as he saw him—there was something in the way Regulus sat, the sharp line of his jaw, that made James want to step closer, just to see what would happen.

No turning back now, Potter.

He walked towards Regulus, his footsteps quiet, measured. Regulus didn’t look up as James approached, too absorbed in whatever task he was doing.

"Still working?" James said, his voice casual, though his heart was thudding in his chest.

Regulus glanced up from his papers, his eyes narrowing slightly when they met James’s. "It’s none of your business, Potter," he muttered, the usual cool detachment in his voice. "I’m busy."

James wasn’t fazed by the words. He leaned against the table, deliberately close enough that Regulus couldn’t ignore his presence. “I know,” James said. “But I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t been yourself lately.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and annoyance crossing his face. "You’re the last person I need analyzing me right now."

James shrugged, unapologetic. “I can’t help it if I’m observant.”

For a moment, the two of them stood there, locked in an odd sort of silence. Then, James took a deep breath. This was it. No turning back now.

He stepped closer, close enough that Regulus had to tilt his head up to meet his eyes, the space between them suddenly filled with something electric, something unspoken. James reached out, slowly, deliberately, and brushed a stray lock of hair out of Regulus’s face. The touch lingered a moment longer than it should have, the warmth of his hand seeping into Regulus’s skin, making everything feel too close, too intense.

Regulus’s breath hitched ever so slightly, and James noticed. He could feel the subtle change in Regulus’s posture, the way his body stiffened, his usual icy composure cracking just a bit.

“Regulus…” James started softly, but his voice was firm, carrying a weight that felt like it could break through anything between them. "I’m not leaving, and I’m not walking away from this. If you think I’m just some—some joke, or that this is all just a challenge to me, then I’m sorry, but you’ve got me wrong."

He took another step forward, just a bit closer, until he was practically looming over him, the air thick with the undeniable pull between them. “I’m not going to play by your rules, Regulus. I can’t. Not when what I feel for you is real.”

Regulus’s eyes darkened, but there was something else there too. James couldn’t read it—fear, disbelief, maybe something else. Regulus opened his mouth to speak, but James moved before he could, his heart racing.

James placed a hand on the edge of the table, leaning over slightly, his breath soft against Regulus’s cheek. “I’m serious,” James repeated, his voice low, almost a whisper. “And if you want me to prove it… I’ll show you.”

He could feel the hesitation in Regulus, the way his muscles tensed. James moved his hand, letting his fingers trace a slow, deliberate path along Regulus’s waist, just a light touch but enough to send a ripple of something through both of them. The contact lingered for a moment, just long enough for Regulus to stiffen, his eyes closing briefly as though he was trying to gather himself.

For a heartbeat, it was as if time had stopped. Regulus didn’t pull away, but the tension between them had thickened, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“I don’t know how much clearer I can make it,” James said, his voice rougher now, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “But I’m not going to play with you, Regulus. This is real. And I want to try, even if you don’t believe me yet.”

Regulus’s eyes snapped open, and for the first time, there was something raw there, something vulnerable that James hadn’t seen before.

“You don’t understand,” Regulus whispered, barely audible. His voice wavered, cracking ever so slightly. “This isn’t just some game for you, but it is for me. It’s always been that way. I don’t... I don’t know how to let someone in, James. Not like this.”

James’s hand remained on Regulus’s waist, his thumb gently stroking the fabric of his shirt. He leaned closer, just enough so that Regulus could feel his breath on his skin. “You don’t have to know how to let me in,” James said softly, his voice unwavering. “You just have to let me try.”

For a moment, they were both still, suspended in that quiet moment of truth. And then, slowly, Regulus’s lips parted, his usual biting remarks held back, as though his words were tangled in the mess of emotions that had built up between them.

“I don’t know what to do with you, Potter,” Regulus admitted, his voice a low murmur. “But I won’t let you think you’re just a... a passing fancy. Not if you’re serious.”

James nodded, his heart thudding harder in his chest. “I am. And I’ll prove it. I won’t stop trying, not if there’s even the slightest chance this could be real.”

Regulus didn’t say anything for a long while, but as James pulled his hand away, Regulus’s eyes followed the movement, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. James had crossed a line, but for the first time, it felt like it might be a line that Regulus wanted to cross too.

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Potter,” Regulus said quietly, almost to himself. “But don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

James smiled softly, a promise in his eyes. “I’m not. You’ll see.”

———

Over the following days, James made sure Regulus noticed the little things. He wasn’t making a grand gesture—he wasn’t about to launch into a declaration of affection in front of the whole Order—but the small acts, the subtle kindnesses, were his way of proving his sincerity.

It started with something simple. Regulus always made a point of staying late after briefings, poring over paperwork, working until his eyes were nearly glazed over. James had been watching him from across the room one evening, the dim light casting shadows on Regulus’s face. He had always been impressed by Regulus’s intensity, his focus—but there was something a little too harsh about it, as though he was punishing himself for things James couldn’t quite understand.

So one night, as Regulus was about to reach for yet another stack of papers, James slid a cup of tea in front of him. “I figured you might need this,” he said nonchalantly, sitting down next to him.

Regulus blinked, momentarily taken aback. “You’re... handing me tea?”

James grinned. “You’re not the only one who needs caffeine to function, you know. It’s just tea. Drink it before you burn yourself out.”

Regulus shot him a skeptical look, but he didn’t refuse the tea. He lifted it to his lips, but before he could speak, James caught his eye again.

"Don’t stay up too late," James added softly, voice almost too quiet to be heard.

Regulus’s hand faltered around the teacup, and for the briefest moment, his usual cold mask slipped. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Thanks,” he muttered, a slight flush creeping over his neck, though he tried to hide it with a haughty glance.

But James had seen it, and it was enough to keep his pulse steady, a quiet victory in the midst of it all.

Later that week, they were in the training room, a handful of the Order members sparring and working through their usual drills. James and Regulus hadn’t sparred directly in weeks, and though James had tried to keep his distance, the temptation was growing. The subtle touches, the way their movements aligned, the way Regulus’s eyes lingered on him—he could feel it building, the tension between them not just in words but in the space they shared.

This time, when the others stepped back to catch their breath, James saw his opportunity. Regulus was wiping his forehead, clearly exhausted but determined not to show it. As he turned to walk to the side of the room, James casually stepped into his path.

“You alright there?” James asked with a grin, his tone lighter than he felt.

Regulus shot him an annoyed glance. “I’m fine, Potter,” he replied, his voice biting, but there was something almost hesitant in the way he said it. It was as if he was trying to hide something.

James didn’t move, stepping closer, letting his arm brush against Regulus’s, just enough to feel the warmth of him. It was a small gesture, but it was deliberate.

“I can’t help but notice you’re slowing down a bit,” James teased, his voice low but not teasing enough to mask the concern behind it.

Regulus’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes narrowing as he took a step back. “I’m not slowing down,” he snapped. “And I don’t need you to babysit me.”

James’s grin widened, and he stepped forward again, moving even closer. This time, when his arm brushed against Regulus’s, he let his hand linger for a second longer, just enough to send a shiver through both of them.

“I’m not babysitting you,” James said softly, his voice almost a whisper now, close enough that Regulus could feel the heat in his words. “But you look like you could use a hand.”

For a moment, Regulus didn’t respond. His chest rose and fell with quick breaths, his jaw set in a stubborn line. James could see it, the slight tremor in Regulus’s hands, the way his body was rigid and almost on the edge of breaking.

Then, to James’s surprise, Regulus muttered a quiet, “Thanks.”

James couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. Regulus wasn’t one to be vulnerable, and yet in these little moments, it was clear that something had shifted between them.

The next morning, they found themselves in the kitchen, early, when the house was still mostly silent. Regulus was standing at the counter, fiddling with the knife in his hands, clearly not in the mood for company. James leaned against the doorframe, watching him, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of Regulus in such a rare moment of solitude.

James felt bold, stepping inside and casually pulling out a plate of fruit, arranging it on the counter. He was careful to keep his movements slow, deliberate. But there was an undeniable intent behind every one of them.

“Do you eat breakfast, or are you too busy being grumpy to remember?” James asked with a grin.

Regulus glanced up from the knife, his usual scowl forming on his lips. But instead of an immediate retort, there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes.

“You’re insufferable,” Regulus muttered, but his voice lacked its usual edge.

James stepped closer, putting the plate of fruit down beside Regulus. He nudged the plate toward him gently, a silent invitation.

“You don’t have to be so difficult,” James said, his tone quieter now, without the usual teasing edge. “Just eat. You’ll feel better.”

For a moment, Regulus hesitated. His eyes flicked to James, then to the plate, and then back to James again. There was an almost imperceptible sigh before Regulus finally picked up a piece of fruit and took a bite.

“Happy now?” he grumbled.

James leaned against the counter, his arms crossed, but the smile on his face betrayed him. “I’m not the one who needs to be happy, Regulus,” he said, voice low but filled with quiet confidence. “But I’m glad you’re not starving yourself, at least.”

Regulus’s gaze flicked to him again, but this time, he didn’t respond. Instead, he quickly cleared his throat, his usual cool detachment slipping back into place.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered, his cheeks tinged pink. “It’s annoying.”

James just smiled wider. “You say that, but I think you like it.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but there was something different in the way he did it—something softer, something less defensive.

"Potter," he started, trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck, "if you keep this up, I’ll—"

“You’ll what?” James teased, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping an octave. “You’ll let me take care of you?”

Regulus’s face flushed even deeper, and he turned quickly, lifting his chin with a sharp, defensive motion. “I’ll ignore you,” he shot back, but it was a half-hearted retort, one that didn't quite mask the flutter in his chest.

James just grinned. "Right, Regulus. But I’ll keep trying."

As Regulus turned back to the fruit and finished his piece, he muttered under his breath, clearly embarrassed. “You’re so infuriating.”

James didn’t reply, just letting his words hang in the air. He could tell that Regulus didn’t believe him yet, but there was something changing. And this time, James wasn’t backing down.