Chapter 2
Regulus had not been left alone for the past week. Dumbledore had granted him an excuse from attending Hogwarts under the guise of preparation, though they all knew the real reason—he was being kept hidden away to mate. To be crude about it. His first heat had come and gone, and he had suffered through it alone, visited only by Sirius and Barty when they could sneak past the ever-watchful eyes of his mother.
It was kind of funny seeing Barty and Sirius together. Their personalities were like night and day, and even when they were supposed to be helping Regulus feel better, they ended up bickering. If Regulus didn’t know better, he might’ve thought they couldn’t stand each other. But he could tell—there was something more there. Sirius always seemed to hang on every word Barty said, and Barty, thinking Sirius wasn’t looking, would sneak little glances at him when he thought no one was watching. Endearing, really.
Orion had not visited him, he had not even spoken to him. His father deemed it shameful to be near him when he was in heat. Regulus had hated every second of it. He was scared of what was to come.
And now, sitting in the middle of the room, veiled with his usual veil, he was silent. He could feel his mother’s eyes burning into him, waiting for the moment they were alone to scold him. But that moment had not come yet for they were surrounded by the Potters, by James.
James entered the room, eyes immediately finding him. He stood and did not step any further, waiting for something.
Regulus swallowed hard, his fingers twitching in his lap. He hadn't spoken to James in years. He didn’t know what he had expected—awkward formality, maybe, or that casual, easygoing charm James was infamous for.
Regulus flinched when Walburga pulled him up, digging her nails into his arm. “This is not how you greet your Alpha,” she hissed, grip bruising. “Have we not taught you better?”
Regulus let out a soft whine, the sound involuntary, and immediately tilted his neck, exposing the delicateness of his scent gland. His hands trembled as he lifted the veil just enough to reveal the pale curve of his throat. James’s eyes widened and seemed to zero in on the revealed patch of skin
Then, without warning, he moved.
Regulus barely had time to register it before James grabbed him, pressing his nose against his neck. He inhaled deeply, unapologetically, as if committing Regulus’ scent to memory. The heat of his breath sent a full-body shudder through Regulus, and the sheer weight of the Alpha’s presence crashed over him.
It was too much. Regulus’ knees buckled, his body threatening to give out under the overwhelming flood of pheromones. He barely bit back a whimper, unprepared, unused to this level of exposure.
Walburga pulled them apart sharply, her grip firm, and Regulus gasped, suddenly aware of how light headed he had become.
James growled low in his throat, the sound almost possessive. He looked like he might step forward again, might reclaim the space that had been forcibly taken from him—
Until Fleamont placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “James,” he warned.
James blinked, lips pressing together, and then—just like that—he smirked, easy and effortless, as if he wasn’t about to maul Regulus. “Right. Bit much for a first date, huh?”
Regulus stared at him, stunned at the brazenness, heat burning under his skin.
Fleamont turned his gaze to Walburga
“Walburga,” Fleamont said curtly. “I don’t understand why you're here instead of your husband, but I will let it slide. This is not what we agreed on. James hasn’t spoken to Regulus in years, as if they are strangers and not betrothed to each other. Look, the Omega is about to collapse from a mere scenting.”
Walburga sneered, her lips curling in barely restrained disdain. “You were promised an Omega to mate. We have not broken the agreement. Nowhere does it say he is required to speak with him.”
Fleamont’s expression remained impassive, but there was an unmistakable steel in his voice when he spoke next. “James will not be bonding with an Omega who is unprepared for him. If he is to take Regulus, he will do so as a partner, not as a stranger.”
“Regulus is not a whore,” Walburga snapped, immediately drawing out a gasp from Euphemia, whose lips parted in shock at the vulgarity. “We do not allow our Omegas to mingle with Alphas, whoever they are.”
Regulus felt his breath hitch and lowered his face in shame when he heard that word. He could feel every pair of eyes in the room on him, watching, judging. His fingers curled into the fabric of his robes, desperate for something to ground him. His mother’s grip on his arm was still there, still bruising, but his mind was caught elsewhere—on James.
“Sirius took care of me at Hogwarts,” Regulus said softly, his voice quiet but firm, a quiet reassurance more for James than for anyone else. “I’m not… I don’t do things without his permission.”
James nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I know. I used to watch,” he said, his tone almost offhand, like he was reminiscing about an old schoolyard game instead of something that made Regulus’ stomach twist. He tilted his head, gaze sharp, studying Regulus like he was picking apart a puzzle. “But he wanted you to remain close to your Alpha, didn’t he?”
Regulus lowered his gaze, not answering. He didn’t need to, for it was true. Sirius had fought him on that very thing for years, and everytime, Regulus only resisted further, his parent’s words carved into his mind. They always wanted to have Alphas for children and nothing else. Regulus being an Omega was a great shame.
There was that one time, after James got into a fight with Snape over him, when Sirius had snarled at him, so angry and burning with rage.
Regulus had stood frozen, fear and shame flooding through him. Sirius grabbed him by the nape of his neck, scruffing him like an Alpha would, and pinned him to the wall. The rule of thumb, a tradition they both knew all too well, was carried out. Sirius didn’t speak much in the moments that followed. Instead, he grabbed his wand, much smaller and gentler than the sticks his mother had used on him when he was younger.
It was a known disciplinary action for when an Omega stepped out of line.
“If I don’t do this, Mother will and it won’t be pretty.” Sirius said bitterly.
It was true. Walburga had the mind to punish Regulus for allowing Snape, deemed a foreign Alpha, to come near him. It would be cruel, so Regulus was thankful that it would be his brother carrying the punishment out in such moments.
Sirius made him stand there, bare of pride, with his hands at his sides and shaking like a leaf. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor. He learned submission early, learned that his will was not his to wield without consequence. Still, Regulus hated it. He always wanted to be good and never disappoint, especially when it came to Sirius.
“Don’t move,” Sirius commanded slowly. “If you move, I start over.”
The wand stung with each strike against his butt. Regulus could barely hold back his tears, each blow leaving him feeling more exposed, more humiliated, unable to fight back the tremors in his body.
At least he didn’t have to count. No–that was something only their Mother did to make sure the punishment hurt both mentally and physically.
By the end, Regulus was a mess, sobbing out loud and struggling to breathe. It was the last time he’d ever disobey Sirius. The experience kept him subdued, because deep down, he knew Sirius always went easy and doted on him.
That night, after the fight, Regulus had ended up locked in Sirius’s dorm room—for safety, his brother had implied. Really, it was for James’s own instinct to be kept at bay, though Sirius had never said as much. Regulus hated it but it was the only way to keep James, who was crazed with Alpha instincts to claim, from mounting him at that instance.
He still remembered the way his older brother had held him that night, his arms wrapped tightly around him with affection. It had been comforting in an odd way, the pressure of Sirius's embrace keeping him grounded in ways he had missed for years.
“Thank you, Siri,” Regulus had murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, on the verge of drifting off to sleep. “I don’t feel so guilty anymore…”
Sirius had shifted slightly, a question hanging in the air. “If you know you need to be with James and if you want to, why do you still refuse?”
Regulus sighed, his eyes fluttering shut, exhaustion pulling him under. “Mm... Mother doesn’t let,” he mumbled, the words barely audible as he fell deeper into sleep, his face softening, unaware of the way he looked like a little, tired thing—vulnerable, yet somehow still innocent in that moment.
Sirius had exhaled slowly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Regulus's forehead. "I know, Reg. It’s not easy. Just leave that house and come with me, I’m here for you. You know that, right?"
But, Regulus had fallen asleep.
—
He blinked, willing himself to forget that memory.
“Silence, Regulus,” Walburga turned to him. “You speak when you’re spoken to.”
Regulus nodded. James simply leveled his mother-in-law with a glare, jaw clenched tight.
Walburga continued speaking, ignoring the heat of James’s eyes. “Regulus will be a proper mate. He will be obedient. He will fulfill his duties as an Omega. That is what the Noble House of Black promised.”
Euphemia’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t add anything to the conversation.
Fleamont, however, took a step forward, his gaze settling on Regulus, judging. “And will he?” he asked.
Walburga turned to Regulus, expectant. Regulus’s stomach twisted. He knew the answer he was supposed to give, for it had been grueled into him for years. He could still remember the hours he spent holed up at home, being forced to listen to lessons about etiquette and submission.
Always refer to your Alpha in a respectful tone. Never raise your voice above your Alpha. Never disobey your Alpha.
“Yes,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Walburga’s nails dug in just slightly. “Louder.”
Regulus swallowed. His face burned. He glanced at James again, only to find the Alpha still watching him, then he turned back to Fleamont.
“Yes, I will.” he repeated, his voice steadier this time, though the tremble beneath it remained.
Fleamont hummed in approval. “Good. Then let me ask you directly.” He stepped closer, observing him. “Will you obey our son?”
Regulus nodded immediately, barely thinking.
“…Yes.”
Fleamont’s sharp eyes flicked over his face, down to his throat, lingering at the unbitten skin of his scent gland.
“Dear, check him.” Fleamont beckoned his wife over.
Regulus didn’t flinch and Walburga did not protest. It was normal–families had the right to check potential Omegas to ensure their purity was still intact. Back home, Regulus would have to submit to morning inspections.
Euphemia stepped forward at her husband’s request. She reached out, fingers ghosting over Regulus’s waist as if testing how easily her hands could circle it. Her touch was experienced, assessing every detail. Euphemia tsked and made a show of taking Regulus’s veil off, ignoring the sound of protest escaping his lips. She glanced at Fleamont, her voice mild as she spoke.
"He’s unblemished by the sun. Truly, his face is a sight almost too serene to behold. Perfect for you, James." Her fingers grazed the delicate curve of his throat, prompting Regulus to tilt his head, exposing the soft skin once again, as if confirming what was already evident. "Untouched... and still pure.”
Walburga scoffed. “Of course he is,” she said sharply, as if the mere suggestion was an insult. “It is disgusting to assume otherwise.”
“And you understand,” Fleamont cut in, “that we expect James’s bed to remain warm. That a heir will be expected.”
“You will not speak of bed-warming until he is properly mated.” Walburga snapped, her eyes narrowing as she directed the reprimand at both Fleamont and James.
James’s jaw tensed, and tilted his head slightly as he looked at her, expression unimpressed. He stepped forward then, closing the space between him and Regulus, standing so close that Regulus had no choice but to look up at him.
“He belongs to me,” James said, each word deliberate. Gone was his usual carefree manner. “He is my Omega, no longer yours. So we will speak as we please, whenever we please.”
Walburga narrowed her eyes, lips curling slightly but did say anything else. It was because Walburga knew James was right. A pureblooded Omega would belong to their Alpha in the end, and the Alpha could do as they pleased. The Omega was expected to serve and obey their Alpha in every matter. That was the way of things, the way it had always been. No matter how much she loathed a Potter holding such power over her son, no–the Blacks–she could not deny the truth of it.
“I shall repeat what I said before. We expect James’s bed to remain warm with you in it. Our son will want a child soon. Do you understand?” Fleamont repeated, not patiently but not in a rude tone either.
Regulus trembled and lowered his eyes. He drew his shoulders to make himself smaller but James didn’t allow it, tilting Regulus’s chin up with two fingers, forcing him to meet his gaze.
“You understand, don’t you?” James asked. He received a hesitant nod in response. “Then answer my dad.”
“…I understand.”
James hummed in satisfaction, his thumb briefly brushing over the delicate skin of Regulus’s jaw, feeling the way the Omega shivered at the touch. He barely had to do anything, and Regulus was already so pliant, so easy to read.
“Good boy.”
James dragged his thumb slowly over Regulus’s bottom lip, watching the way the Omega trembled under the faintest touch. His lips were soft, warmer than James had ever fantasized, and when Regulus parted them just slightly—just enough to brush the pad of his thumb in the lightest of kisses—something dark and pleased flickered in James’s gaze.
Merlin, he had been waiting for this. For years, he hadn’t been allowed to touch and claim what was his. And now, with Regulus standing before him, all shy and nervous, James couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across his face.
"Good boy," James repeated with a grin, his voice light and teasing, as his fingers lingered near Regulus’s mouth, feeling the warmth of his breath. "So sweet for me already."
Then–
“On your knees,” James’s voice shifted, the playful tone replaced with something different, a command beneath it. A test.
Regulus hesitated for only a second, eyes darting to Walburga, then to Euphemia. But his mother said nothing, and Euphemia—Euphemia was staring with open delight, as if she were watching a particularly fascinating display.
Slowly, carefully, and in practice, Regulus moved. He slid down from where he was and knelt before James, his posture straight with his head bowed. His hands trembled as they rested lightly against his thighs, but he made no move to protest or resist. He knew better, even though it was humiliating to do so in front of others.
Euphemia sighed, practically beaming. “Oh, James, look at him,” she cooed. “He’s already so in tune with you. You barely have to guide him.” She reached out to brush back a lock of Regulus’s dark hair. “My, he’s so delicate. What a sweet thing.”
James hummed in agreement, watching the way Regulus’s breathing grew uneven under the attention. His Omega was trying so hard to be still, but James could see it in the way his fingers twitched slightly against his own thighs, the way his pupils had blown just a fraction too wide.
“Precious,” James murmured, tilting Regulus’s chin up again, forcing those grey eyes to meet his own. “You like being called a good boy, hm? ”
Regulus nodded, avoiding his mother’s gaze. It made him feel soft and so floaty. . .like he was on a cloud. Sirius used to tease him about it when they were young but still, Regulus always ached for some sort of praise.
Fleamont, who was unlike his usual self that day, moved closer to them and reached out to Regulus. He brushed his fingers against the boy’s scent gland, pressing just enough to test his reaction.
Nothing.
Regulus barely blinked.
Fleamont hummed, unimpressed. “Well, he’s certainly composed.”
And then James moved as well. It wasn’t much—just a press of his hand against the same spot—but it sent fireworks through his body. Regulus shuddered. His breath hitched and his body tilted ever so slightly toward James, like instinct had already decided for him. His neck was bare, begging to be marked.
“Oh,” Euphemia breathed, eyes lighting up like she had just discovered the most delightful secret. “Oh, how precious.”
Regulus flushed.
“He’s so reactive to you, James!” she gushed, clasping her hands together like a pleased mother watching their child take their first steps. “Look at that! He didn’t even budge for your father, but you—oh, darling, he melts for you already.”
James huffed out a laugh, low and satisfied, like he had just confirmed something for himself. “Sirius did tell me you were always so sweet,” he mused, tilting his head as if seeing Regulus in a whole new light. Then, as if unable to help himself, he reached out again, fingers skimming Regulus’ jaw before tilting his chin up.
Regulus’ breath hitched.
James grinned. “Merlin, you really do listen when you're told what to do.”
Euphemia practically beamed. “Oh, James, be nice,” she scolded, but she was clearly thrilled.
James, utterly unbothered, just snickered. “I am being nice. If I weren’t, I’d be teasing him a lot more.” He tapped Regulus’ chin lightly before letting go, looking him over like he had already claimed him. “Not that he’d stop me.”
Fleamont was still watching, eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement. “Well,” he murmured, entirely too pleased, “I suppose we’ll have no trouble with the mating ceremony today, then.”
—
Sirius found James just outside the ceremonial hall, fiddling with his dress robes like they were personally offending him. He looked up as Sirius approached, grinning wide. “Pads! Thought you’d be off sneaking Reg away before the big moment.”
Sirius crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Yeah, no. Not happening today,” He leveled James with a look. “Speaking of which, let’s talk about how you’re treating my little brother.”
James blinked at him, all wide-eyed innocence. “Sirius, I adore your little brother.”
Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Uh-huh. So, tell me why I heard you had him kneeling for you.”
James tilted his head, like he was considering playing dumb, but then his mouth curled into something smug. “You know already, hm,” He stretched lazily, grinning. “What can I say? He listens so well.”
Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “In front of my mother, James. In front of my mother. Why would you do that?”
James snorted. “To be fair, I didn’t think that part through. But he was fine. Looked real pretty, too.” His voice softened slightly, the teasing laced with something genuine. “I’m good to him, Sirius. And it’s good for him to express his Omegan side. You know that.”
Sirius let out a slow breath. He did know that. As much as James was a smug bastard about it, he’d seen the way he looked at Regulus—how his bravado faded at the edges when Reg was involved, how his teasing had a gentleness to it.
“Still,” Sirius continued, fixing James with a pointed look. “You know how our parents are. They despise anything remotely Omegan, anything that even hints at submission. Regulus isn’t comfortable around them—hell, he’s barely comfortable around me sometimes.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I don’t want him feeling like he’s walking into another cage.”
James’s grin faltered, his expression shifting into something more serious. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I get it, Sirius. Really.” He tilted his head, considering. “But Regulus is smart. He’ll tell me if he doesn’t like something. You should’ve seen the way he looked at me when I—” He stopped himself, a smirk threatening to form.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “When you what?”
James chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing. Sorry, I’ll treat him like royalty, I’ll be good to him.”
“You better be,” Sirius muttered, pointing a firm finger at James. “Because if you’re not, I will personally drag your sorry arse across every inch of this estate, and I won’t feel bad about it.”
James laughed, slinging an arm over Sirius’s shoulders. “Merlin, Pads, you’re getting soft. But don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to him. He’s mine now.” His voice was light, but Sirius caught the flicker of something more serious beneath it. A quiet promise.
Sirius huffed but didn’t shake him off. “He’s my baby brother, always will be.” he grumbled, just to be annoying.
James grinned. “Guess we’ll have to share.”
Sirius had barely a second to appreciate James’s rare moment of sincerity before the git opened his mouth again.
“Oh, by the way,” James said, smirking as he crossed his arms. “You and Barty, huh?”
Sirius blinked. “What?”
James grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Found yourself an Omega, did you? And such an unruly one too. Suits you, really.”
Sirius groaned. “Merlin, shut up.”
“Oh no, no, no.” James shook his head, looking downright delighted. “I mean, it makes sense. You always did like a challenge. And Barty? That’s a whole handful right there.” He leaned in, dropping his voice mockingly. “You like them mouthy, don’t you?”
Sirius swatted at him, scowling. “For fuck’s sake, Prongs.”
James dodged, laughing. “I’m just saying, Pads, you’re always giving me a hard time, but here you are, running around with your own wild little Omega.”
“He’s not mine,” Sirius snapped, then immediately regretted it because James’s grin only widened.
“Ohhh,” James dragged out the sound like he’d just caught Sirius red-handed. “That was defensive. Guess you wouldn’t mind if Snivellus tries–”
Sirius snarled.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, stepping closer like James had actually threatened to summon Snape right then and there. His wand were up, his fingers twitching like he was two seconds away from hexing James on instinct alone.
James threw his hands up, looking way too entertained. “Relax, Pads, I was joking—Merlin, look at you.” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head in mock amazement. “Not yours, huh? Sure as hell doesn’t look like it.”
Sirius clenched his jaw, crossing his arms tight. “I don’t like him like that.”
James gave him a flat look. “Mate, you’re about two seconds away from putting a claim mark on him just from me mentioning another guy. You’re worse than Regulus when it comes to being oblivious.”
Sirius scoffed. “Regulus is a Black. He was trained to ignore you.”
James ignored the pang in his heart. Yes, Regulus used to ignore him, but that was before. Now, he was moments away from claiming the Omega and officially making him his. “Yeah? What’s your excuse, then?”
Sirius scowled but didn’t answer.
James chuckled, then clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll get Regulus to work some magic.”
Sirius blinked. “What?”
James smirked. “Barty and Regulus are friends, yeah? And Regulus notices things.” He waggled his eyebrows. “So if I just casually mention how you get all twitchy and rabid when Barty’s name comes up, well—”
Sirius gaped at him. “You wouldn’t.”
James grinned wider. “Oh, but I would.”
“Regulus doesn’t care about that stuff,” Sirius shot back, desperate to shut this down before James got any ideas.
James winced but didn’t let it deter him. “Point is, little Reggie loves you—so you might wanna brace yourself, Pads.” He clapped Sirius on the back, all smugness. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be betrothed as well.”