August 23rd, 1987
“Do you remember how we met?”
Regulus’ first instinct is to frown. James had been quiet for so long he thought he might’ve nodded off. With a sigh, he slides a bookmark into the crease of his book, closing it with a soft thud. He looks down at his fiancé and narrows his eyes. “What?”
“You heard me.” James replies simply, eyes still shut. “Tell me about the first time you saw me”
Regulus hesitates, taking a few seconds to figure whether James is setting up a joke about love at first sight or genuinely asking. He doesn’t remember ever having a conversation about this, so he realises James must be actually interested in an answer. “Well, I thought your hair was appalling,” he says, threading his fingers through the unruly mess. “Still do.”
September 1st, 1972
Regulus had played this moment out in his head about a million times.
He wasn’t excited—anxious was the better word for it. Sirius hadn’t been able to shut up about his new friends since the moment he got back for Christmas. So deliriously happy not even Walburga’s furious rant about him being sorted into Gryffindor could dampen his spirits.
So, Regulus knew it was important that he was meeting them. He needed it to go well. He’d rehearsed his words, turned them over in his mind until it felt right. The possibility of sleeping the night before was thrown off the window, he had no hopes his mind would come to a rest; his chest felt heavy, and breathing wasn’t as easy as he remembered it.
In most of his scenarios, he barely spoke, limiting himself to a polite wave to Sirius’ friends, letting them take the lead and only speaking when spoken to.
In a handful, he’d go out of his way and manage a timid ‘hello’, if his mouth cooperated. It was a hopeful outcome, really. Sirius usually filled in the gaps for him, always knowing what he wanted to say. His brother knew him best.
And in an even rarer few, he’d actually hold a conversation, though that was practically a fantasy, but he didn’t rule it off entirely. Stranger things had happened.
He made sure to go through every possible outcome, his brain worked restlessly to assure he wouldn’t be caught unprepared.
But this?
How was he supposed to come up with this?
Because instead of waving, talking, or even forcing a smile, he found himself staring. Staring directly, intently, at the boy who had just launched himself at his brother with the subtlety of a bludger to the face.
James Potter.
Regulus spent a few seconds taking him in, a sense of pity washing over him. Because the first thing he noticed wasn’t James’ overwhelming cheerfulness for this early of a ride, no, he found himself in a trace over the absolute state of his hair. If you could call it that.
He had never been so appalled in his life, and take his word he had seen some horrors. Without thinking, he reached up to touch his own curls, relieved to know it was a one-man case. He was so consumed in listing everything that was wrong with James’ hair that he didn't notice Sirius speaking to him until his brother clapped a hand on his shoulder and proudly introduced him.
He didn’t even complain when Sirius ruffled his hair—he knew it couldn’t possibly look worse than that. Merlin, what had even happened?
“Hi.” He mumbled after Sirius nudged him with no finesse, positively snapping him out of his trance. “I’m Regulus.” He grimaced internally, partially sure his brother had covered that already.
“Hey, Regulus,” James smiled, and suddenly, his mind blanked. He forgot all about his hair predicament. The brightness of that smile was blinding, drowning out the dull grey sky outside. It looked like the sun had only risen in this compartment, all other places in the world were doomed to be a little darker. “I’m James.”
“Pleasure.” He didn’t try to smile back, he couldn’t compete with him.
He never stood a chance.
August 23rd, 1987
James cracks one eye open just in time to catch the bit-back smile tugging at Regulus’ lips. He shuts it again, nuzzling his head deeper into his lap with a contented sigh. “Thought you said you loved every part of me in your vows.”
Regulus lets that settle, basking in the reminder that James wasn’t his fiancé anymore—he’s his husband. It’s still new, his mind hadn’t fully processed the change, not quite wrapping around the fact he had managed to trap James Potter for life just a few hours ago. Well, technically, it was the other way around, James was the one who proposed. But only because he beat him to it. James had swore he hadn’t meant to listen to Regulus’ hushed conversation with Evan, that he had barely caught anything.
But he did.
And proposed the very next day, the prat.
“I love them,” Regulus says, fiddling with a straw that’s got an unfortunate knot in it. “I just don’t like them very much.” He scrunches up his nose.
The steady noise of the airport surrounds them—rolling suitcases, hurried footsteps and the occasional announcement crackling to the speakers. Regulus is only half-aware of the flight updates, tuning most of the noise out, though it’s slightly heightened when James falls silent for a solid minute.
“Is there a difference?” He asks eventually, receiving a confused hum from Regulus. “You love them but you don’t like them. That’s a thing?”
“Yes, Potter.” Regulus heaves a sigh, glancing up at the screen displaying departure times. “It’s a thing.”
November 21st, 1975
Regulus was in so much trouble.
He’d just run into James Potter and made a fool of himself. His glare wasn’t quite as sharp and his scowl twitched when James beamed at him. Mortifying, really. A part of him knew James probably hadn’t even noticed the horrors Regulus was experiencing.
The other part was the problem.
The part that wanted him to notice. Him, or the way he was the tiniest bit nicer despite not being friends. He just wanted James to notice something. A little, or a lot.
He wasn’t new to this feeling, not exactly. Regulus had learned over time that he wasn’t someone who stood out or defied rules. No, that was his brother, Regulus was more comfortable following the crowd. So when everyone in Hogwarts decided to harbour a crush on James Potter—oh, perfect, kind, golden, maddeningly fit James Potter—Regulus had been right behind, supporting the consensus that Potter was the pinnacle of everything good.
One look at him in fourth year and it was game over. James had shot up over the summer, all long limbs and broad shoulders. And well, Regulus never claimed to be stronger than the hordes of girls who sighed dreamily and fanned themselves whenever he walked by. Composure, though, that’s where he upped them by one. They all lacked poise whereas Regulus had plenty to spare—or so he told himself, yet he could feel it slip through his fingers whenever James would sprint past him in the hall and stop only to ruffle his hair like he had any right, he never lingered much, no, his heathen of a brother was always hot on his tail throwing another hex like a madman.
Sirius needed to think about Regulus’ joy more often.
He didn’t know James much back then. But he thought he was nice. Maybe he would’ve come around to like him with time.
But he’d never know, because the very next summer, Sirius ran away to the Potter’s and left Regulus to fend by himself.
He didn’t blame Sirius for leaving. He blamed Sirius for not taking him too. He would’ve gone, if he asked.
He hadn’t.
Now, he was stuck watching his brother and James bicker like they’d done it all their lives. Gush over their summer together like it was always that way. It wasn’t. Sirius was Regulus’ brother, not James’.
These days, Regulus didn’t like James much. He still thought he was fit, because there was no way around that, but he just didn’t like James. Resented him, even. He was now labelled in his head as the boy who had stolen his brother and had no intention of giving him back. The same one who still tried to be nice to him, even when Regulus dragged himself out of bed every morning with a personal vendetta against him. He refused to talk to him and had to hex him until he stopped touching his hair.
It was complicated, because Regulus knew James was kind. He knew James was taking care of his brother and had given him a home in a way Regulus never could. James was a good person, that was clear, but despite all of that, he hurt Regulus like no one else had and acted all the same, like it was fine.
It wasn’t.
Regulus couldn’t find it in himself to be mature about this and let it go. He didn’t like how James’ kindness didn’t reach him, everyone else had it, just not him. Because James couldn’t hurt a fly if he tried, yet he hadn’t shown even a hint of regret for taking away the only thing Regulus ever cared to keep: his brother.
And yes, it wasn’t like James had intended to make Regulus’ life miserable, but he did. And he couldn’t see past that.
James smiled at him, but Sirius still hadn’t come back.
James talked to him, but Sirius still hadn't asked.
James looked at him, but Sirius hadn’t spared a glance since that night.
It was infuriating. No matter what James did, Regulus couldn’t like him. Every time he saw him, something ugly gnawed at his chest, anger bubbling up until it overflowed in clipped answers and sharp words.
He’d spent a year with the knowledge that he didn’t like James. And yet, a part of him still admired and craved the warmth that apparently only he could offer. Regulus hated that part of himself. He buried it, deep where it wouldn’t see the light, he was the picture of indifference whenever Potter was around.
But apparently, some things can bloom in the dark. What should have twisted into something ugly and bitter kept pushing out of the shadows, growing until there was nowhere left to go but out.
A few minutes ago, James Potter smiled at him, and instead of the familiar, welcomed emptiness clawing at his ribs that only allowed him to feel resentment, something else had embraced him. His glare faltered, his scowl softened, all because James smiled at something Regulus said.
He could only notice how he had made James feel some kind of happy.
And Salazar, that felt good.
James didn’t notice, he never did. He never knew when Regulus was hurting, or happy, or angry—it all looked the very same to him. But in that moment Regulus wanted him to know, he would show him.
And that was a problem.
He was in so much trouble.
August 23rd, 1987
“Huh.” Is all James says. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Regulus smiles, rolling his eyes even though James can’t see him. “Wise choice.”
James snorts, shaking his head fondly. “How long ‘til the flight?”
Regulus leans down and presses a small kiss to James’ forehead, a consolation prize before he informs him, “Two hours.”
His husband groans so loudly a few heads turned their way. Regulus ignores them, too busy trying to contain a giggle from spilling over. “We could’ve been there already if we’d taken the portkey!” James protests petulantly, looking for all the world like a child.
“I hate portkeys.” Regulus reminds him.
February 14th, 1976
“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be." Is the first thing that comes to Regulus’ mind—a quote from a muggle book he had read a few months ago. He didn’t understand then how someone could love another against all logic, the whole universe begging you not to, until James.
Lovely, sweet, unreservedly mental James Potter, who now stands in front of him pointing at a portkey with an excitement that defies reason, promise, peace, hope, happiness and inspires every discouragement under the sun.
He was in love with a madman.
“I hate portkeys,” Regulus informs him, watching James blink and gape at him. Before he can say a word, Regulus cuts him off. “Like, actually.”
James sighs, but he sounds fond once he speaks, “Sirius might’ve mentioned something about that, yeah.” He starts, his lips twitch into a smile. “But this one’s a bit inevitable.”
Regulus narrows his eyes. “Death is inevitable, and even that has a way around,” he says dryly, rolling his eyes when James chuckles. “If Nicholas Flamel can decide when he’s kicking the bucket, then I can decide I’m not taking a portkey.”
“Do you always have an answer for everything?” James scoffs, shaking his head with barely contained amusement.
“No, I still haven’t worked out why I agreed to this,” Regulus mumbles, crossing his arms and stepping just a tad closer. “Not just this. The whole… you situation.”
“The date, you mean.” James teases, bumping their shoulders together.
Regulus side-eyes him, trying to look disinterested, the blush in his cheeks betrays him. “Yes. That.” He hopes he doesn’t sound as breathless as he feels every time he remembers he isn’t daydreaming—that James actually asked him out and clarified it was a ‘very romantic, very not-friendly’ date when Regulus had questioned whether he was confusing the concept of a hang out. “The date.”
“Well, I’d hope it’s because you fancy me,” James muses, smirking down at him. “And I hope that’s enough reason for you to trust me and take this very inoffensive, lovely portkey that will get us to an equally inoffensive, lovely place where I can try to sweep you off your feet.”
Regulus is half-tempted to tell him he doesn’t need much sweeping and that he’s way past just fancying him. But, honest to Salazar, he’s enjoying seeing James put in so much effort. Their first date had been sweet enough Regulus would’ve said yes to anything James asked—dating, marriage, he doesn’t care, the answer would’ve been yes. And now, James has gone through all this trouble for him again, planning another thing. He should just man up and take the damned portkey. “James—”
“I’ll make up for it.” The older boy says, tilting his head in invitation.
Regulus’ eyebrows fly up to his hairline. “That so?” He asks, lips quirking up. “How exactly?”
“Come and find out?” James ventures, looking just a bit more hopeful.
Regulus, who had already talked himself into it, sighs something dramatic and shakes his head so he doesn’t give away how motivated he is now. “I suppose I can compromise.”
“Brilliant, let’s go.”
They had their first kiss that evening, and not a complaint was heard on the trip back.
August 23rd, 1987
“We could’ve apparated or—” Regulus cuts him off with a kiss, the angle it’s a bit awkward but he makes it work.
“You’re awful at apparating.” He says smoothly. James, caught off guard, hums against his lips.
“Very awful,” he admits distractedly, his eyes locked onto Regulus’. Then he grins, wide and delighted, and pulls him in for another. Regulus goes, happy to oblige.
James does end up straightening before their necks pop out of place. “What about you?” Regulus asks, chuckling lightly at James’ confusion. “Your first impression of me– was it just ‘mini Sirius´?” He means it as a joke, but James doesn’t laugh. Instead, he keeps smiling at him in that dopey, soft way of his that makes him feel fifteen all over again, like he’s just finding out he’s in love with James Potter. He isn’t, of course—He’s known for years. He married him both the wizard and muggle way.
“Cute.”
“Thank you.” Regulus takes the compliment in stride because James compliments him an absurd amount of times, it comes off naturally.
His husband laughs, leaning in for a quick peck. “No, I mean—yes, you look adorable right now,” he amends, tilting his head back to catch Regulus’ eyes. “But I was answering your question. I thought you were cute.”
September 1st, 1972
James was excited, there was no other word for it. He’s spent the whole summer raving to his parents about his new friends, mostly about Sirius.
He’s told them everything, how they clicked instantly, how he’s going to be his best mate until his last breath and whatnot. His parents, as always, indulged him and let him talk their ears off.
Sleep was barely manageable the night before his second year, too eager to be with Sirius, Remus and Peter for another year.
“It’s too early to be this restless, James.” Remus sighs, pushing him back into his seat for the third time.
“He should be here by now! He’s gonna miss the train, Remus.”
Remus trades a tired look with Peter, who’s more interested in shoving sweets into his mouth than back him up.
Before his friend can reprimand him again, the compartment door slides open, and Sirius doesn’t get a second when James flings himself at him, launching into an endless rant about his summer break and the places he visited with his parents. Sirius listens and laughs along.
It takes a moment for James to realize there’s someone else standing awkwardly in the doorway.
Sirius yelps, stepping away from James to beckon the smaller figure forward. He doesn’t listen to the introduction, doesn’t think he needs it because he realises immediately who that is. He narrows his eyes, his mind a bit foggy when he tries to see the resemblance Sirius promised when he talked about his little brother.
His friend had spent a good portion of last year talking about this little brother—how alike they were, how he was the only good part of their family. James remembers wishing he had a brother, just so he could understand that adoration that reeked off Sirius every time he mentioned his. He also remembers asking if they looked alike. “We’re carbon copies,” Sirius said.
James doesn’t see it.
The first time he met Sirius, he knew exactly what he was dealing with. A gale of defiance and mischief poorly contained in tailored robes. This boy is different. Cute, yes. Softer, too. Composed in a way Sirius never quite managed, very put together and a bit scowly, but cute, nonetheless.
“Hi.” His voice is quiet. James wants to hear it again. He gets his wish granted when the boy continues, a bit louder. “I’m Regulus.”
James doesn’t remember ever hearing that name, and now he thinks how wrong that is.
“Hey, Regulus.” James grins, warm and easy. This is Sirius’ brother, and by the way his friend is glancing between them, it matters to him. “I’m James.” He almost hopes Regulus will smile back.
“Pleasure.” His lips stay pursed, but something flickers in his eyes. He’d put his money on adoring, it’s what he can see from this distance that even so gives away how mesmerizing they are—the loveliest shade of blue, almost grey. For a second, he wonders if Regulus would let him look at them up close. Would that be weird? He would be very respectful about it. He just needs five minutes or a year to make sure he’s got it right.
He never stood a chance.
August 23rd, 1987
Regulus fights back the heat creeping up his neck, which is ridiculous. He has no reason to feel flustered over James after this many years. “You’re an idiot.”
“You married this idiot.” James says, far too smug for his own good.
Regulus fakes a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head. “I can always claim you imperioed me.”
James barks a laugh. “Why d’you always jump straight to an unforgivable? Godric have mercy on us, just say I slip amortentia in your morning coffee and be done with it.”
The younger man shrugs. “I like to think it takes more than a love potion to tie me down.”
James clicks his tongue, tilting his head before heaving a sigh. “Well, love, it took less than a love potion.”
“Oh, sod off.”
February 14th, 1987
Regulus knew James was up to something.
His boyfriend had an embarrassing adoration for Valentine’s day, making a show of it every year with grand, private gestures that left Regulus red-faced. So yes, he knew James was up to something.
But this time, it felt different. He wasn’t sure why or how, but there was a weight to it, something beyond the usual love confessions and gifts that managed to turn Regulus into a right state, all his hard work in keeping up the cold front rendered useless.
James, the menace, kept grinning like he knew something Regulus didn’t, and it wasn’t anything short of maddening. Still, Regulus didn’t complain much when James dragged him out of their home, fingers laced together inside his coat in a feeble attempt to shield them from the winter air.
They didn’t take a portkey, much to Regulus’ short-lived relief. Instead, James insisted on apparition, swearing ‘cross my heart, I’ve practised this a million times’ trying to reassure him he wouldn’t drop them in the middle of a desert—Again, Regulus had pointedly reminded him.
Regulus had no choice but to take a leap of faith and trust him, he’d worked himself out of self-sabotaging their dates years ago.
The second they landed, he recognized the place.
It had changed, of course. More refined, older, but undeniably the same. They’d been here before, eleven years ago, for their second date. Regulus nearly rolled his eyes at how disgustingly cliché James could be.
He remembered it all too well: first, the overwhelming nausea threatening to make him spill his breakfast on the floor from that portkey (‘never again, Potter’); second, the realisation James was crazy for taking him, Regulus Black, to a muggle town.
Yet, he also recalls looking around the small, charming streets and feeling warm despite the heavy snowfall. It wasn’t as strong now, winter was bowing out early this year. He kind of expected to turn around and see a younger version of them, shy and hesitant but so clearly infatuated with the other.
James cups his chin, gently drawing him back around and to the present. “You remember?” He asks, his smile as blinding as ever, and though Regulus has had years to get used to it, he doesn’t think he’ll ever not be in awe of how bright this man is.
Regulus looks at him, feigning exasperation at the silly question. “Of course I do,” he scoffs, squeezing his hand. “This was the first time I actually liked you.” It’s not entirely true—he’d reluctantly confessed to being in love with James long before their first date. But it was the first time Regulus felt James’ kindness reach him, that his affection was real. Their first date, as sweet as it was, hadn’t managed to make himself fully believe James wasn’t doing this out of pity in a misplaced attempt to mend the friendship they never got to have.
James huffs, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Sure, love.”
Regulus rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, letting him have this small victory.
James tugs at his arm, steering him toward a shop Regulus doesn’t remember from their last time here. It looks cozy.
“I wanted to take you to the same café we went to back in ‘76.” James tells him as they step inside, “but it closed a while ago.”
“Well, things change.” Regulus hums, lips twitching. “Besides, that would’ve been too cliché, baby.”
James tilts his head, considering, before shrugging. “Maybe, I was aiming for nostalgia, though.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll work it out.”
Regulus is already feeling nostalgic. Just being here, in the same place where James once shamelessly laid out all the absurd, over-the-top ways he planned to sweep him off his feet, is enough to make him feel all gooey and soft inside. He moves a little closer, just because he can.
His early suspicions were completely gone, it was the first time they’ve ever “reenacted” an old date and now he understands James’ excitement. He doesn’t mind, it’s so him—of course James would pull something like this.
Credit where it's due, it’s romantic.
They settle at a table near the window, tucked away from the rest of the shop. Back then, Regulus hadn’t been able to appreciate the charm of the muggle world the way he does now, too caught up in his own hesitations. Too wary, too stiff, too aware of where he came from. He had none of those worries now, and he allows it to fill him with quiet pride, the way he was able to let them go and see the world outside of beliefs that never belonged to him.
The pastries held some resemblance to the one they’d ordered that day, a bit bigger, slightly different, he notices. Fitting, he thinks.
He makes a jab at James, challenging him to order the same drink he had back then, it earns him a roll of eyes.
Younger, sillier, dafter James was dead set on convincing Regulus he liked coffee with the same vigour Regulus did, solely to prove they had so much in common. He didn’t, it was so obvious. One sip and he’d barely kept from grimacing. But he’d suffered through the whole cup anyway, stubborn as a mule, while Regulus acted oblivious to his misery.
“I’ll stick with my hot choco, thank you very much.” James says now, taking a happy sip.
Regulus snorts but lets it go.
They lapse into easy conversation, Regulus spinning ridiculous conspiracies about the people passing by, threading intricate, bleedingly nonsensical backstories that have James grinning like a fool, already familiar with his antrics. He doesn’t stop until James’ hand finds his, lacing their fingers together over the table.
He tries not to look too pleased when his boyfriend lays a lingering kiss to the back of his hand.
“You know,” James starts, leaning closer across the table, thumb brushing over Regulus’ knuckles, “the last time we were here, we had our first kiss.”
Regulus sighs, giving him a look. “I was wondering when you were going to get all sappy.” He muses, smiling. “I know, I remember, I was there.”
James laughs, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m trying to be romantic here, humour me, will you?”
“I suppose,” He says, shifting forward in his chair. “So, Jamie, tell me more about the date I already perfectly remember.”
“Thank you.” James taints, shaking his head fondly. “I gave you a very detailed list of all the ways I planned to impress you and the things we were going to do together.”
“Yes, some of them were ridiculous.” Regulus purses his lips, wincing when a specific one comes to mind. “I’m particularly glad I managed to talk you out of singing in the great hall. I would’ve perished out of sheer embarrassment.”
James rolls his eyes. “Yes, I learned you didn’t like grand, public gestures that day, I never forgot.”
“Well done.”
“Do I get a prize for that?” he asks tentatively. Regulus sighs, as though it’s terribly inconvenient that he has to lean closer to kiss him. “Yes, exactly.” James murmurs when they part.
Regulus ignores how smug he looks and motions for him to continue. “What else did you learn that day?”
“Oh, loads.” James nods eagerly. “I learned you didn’t hate me, for starters.”
“Never did, to be honest.”
“Well, you sure acted like it.” He scoffs, and—Fair enough. Regulus had been a bit of an arse to him back then. It was all front, though, so it shouldn’t count. “I also realised you weren’t plotting to embarrass me for fancying you.”
“No,” Regulus says, taking a sip of his drink. “Too busy thinking you were doing that.”
James laughs. “We were a bit thick, weren’t we?” Regulus hums, agreeing. They were. They spent so much time tiptoeing around each other.
It was fragile, what they had, Regulus felt like he had to take care of it, there were so many things that would’ve broken it, and he did everything in his power to nurture it and see it bloom. He’s glad he did, it paid off. “Quite. You, more than me.”
James scoffs, rolling his eyes at the tease. “Maybe. But I figured out something you didn’t that day, being so thick and all.”
“Oh?” Regulus tilts his head, smirking. “Do enlighten me.” He challenges, feeling fairly confident he’d seen right through James that day. After all, he wouldn’t be sitting here now if there had been even the slightest of doubts.
James leans forward. “When you started ranting about muggle studies not being all that accurate and breaking down all the ways we completely misunderstand their literature, I laughed.” Regulus tries to cut in, because he remembers. It had been soft, almost inaudible, but he’d noticed. He’d been too focused on James to miss it. He doesn’t get the chance, though. James squeezes his hand, and he lets him go on. “It wasn’t because I thought it was funny that you were so passionate about it.”
“Then?” Regulu frowns.
James sighs, looking almost sheepish. “It hit me, way too suddenly, that it was a losing battle. A one-outcome situation.” His voice drops as he looks down at their hands. “I can’t say I was in love with you at that moment, like you were. But I knew that was the only place I was ever going to end up in.”
Regulus’ gaze softens. These are the kind of confessions that reinforce the belief that this, right here, is the only thing he’s ever wanted. The only thing he’ll settle for. “James.”
“I know, I know. Sappy.” He chuckles, lifting his head again. “But even at fifteen I knew, somehow, that you were it.”
Regulus’ breath hitches, he blinks away a tear. “James.” This time, it’s a little breathless.
“I won’t pretend I don’t know how I ended up here, if anything, I’d be more surprised if I hadn’t.” James lets out a soft laugh, oblivious to how close Regulus is to doing something humiliating, like crying in public. “It feels right. There’s no one else I’d do this with. For me, this is it. There’s no one after you. I wouldn’t be able to feel like this again.”
There’s a quiet click against the table.
“James.”
“There’s one last thing I want us to do together,” He continues, ignoring the warning in Regulus’ tone. “And I hope you’re not too mad that I’m not letting you propose. But I’ve had this for a few years.” He tilts his head toward the small box now sitting between them. “And I know getting on one knee would put you on the spot, so, I’m doing it like this.”
“Yes.”
James huffs a laugh. “Haven’t asked yet.”
Regulus wants to glare at him. “Then hurry up.”
“Desperate, aren’t we?” James teases, reaching for the box. He flicks it open, revealing the silver ring inside. “Regulus Black, will you, please, marry me?”
“Yes.” He answers before James can properly finish.
James smiles, triumphant, sliding the ring onto his finger before bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss against it.
Regulus stares at it in awe. “I knew you were going to do this.” He says, trying to keep himself together and hide just how much he wants to cry. He will, just not here. Later, when they’re home.
“Sure, love.” James indulges him.
“I did know.” He insists. “Not surprised. Not even a little.”
James chuckles, squeezing his hand. “Whatever you say, dear.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You’re not.”
“I love you.”
“You do.” James says cheekily, earning a sharp glare from his now fiancé.
Regulus blinks slowly at him. “James.”
“I love you, too.”
August 23rd, 1987
“Make me.”
Regulus gives him a flat look. “You’ve overused that bit.”
James chuckles, unabashed. “Oh, come on—” He’s cut off by a voice crackling through the speakers, announcing the start of their flight’s boarding. Regulus tilts his head to the side, landing a quick kiss to his husband’s lips.
“Come on, indeed.” He teases, rising from his seat. “Sweetmoon, or whatever muggles call it.”
“Honeymoon.” James corrects, gaze impossibly fond. He reaches for Regulus’ hand, intertwining their fingers before bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.
“Close enough.” Regulus retorts airily.
James shakes his head, amused. “You really can’t lose, can you?”
Regulus scoffs, “No,” he turns to him with a look so soft, loving, adoring. “I don’t think I can.”