Home-ish
James lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind a restless storm of thoughts. Regulus. It always comes back to Regulus. He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his jaw. He hates this, the emptiness where memories should be. He hates that he can’t remember the way Regulus smiled at him when he got down on one knee, the pure, breathtaking joy on his face. And most of all, he hates that he can’t recall the way Regulus used to say his name. He hates it because he wants to remember. He so wants to remember.
He shifts, turning onto his side, then onto his back again. Sleep is impossible. His gaze drifts to his nightstand, to the Polaroid taped to his headlamp. Their engagement picture. He had decided to keep it there so he can see it, so it’s the last thing he looks at before sleep takes him. If sleep ever takes him.
He wants it.
He wants that.
He wants a happy Regulus in his arms, he wants to bury his face in the curve of his neck and breathe him in, wants to feel the weight of Regulus pressed against him, real and solid. The ache of missing something he doesn’t even remember having is unbearable.
James exhales, pressing his forehead against the pillow. His thoughts drift again. Where is Regulus right now? Is he awake like me? Or is he fast asleep, blissfully unaware that I’m lying here, wishing more than anything to remember the life we had together?
A plan starts to take shape in James’s mind: half-formed but persistent. He doesn’t know all the details yet, but he knows one thing: he will do anything he can to get Regulus back.
And with that resolve settling in his chest, exhaustion finally drags him under.
And in his dreams, a memory surfaces.
Regulus is standing in their tiny kitchen, barefoot, wearing one of James’s sweaters that is completely ruined. There’s flour on his nose, in his hair, hell, even on his elbows, and he looks absolutely, furiously betrayed.
“You lied to me,” Regulus accuses, holding up a mangled attempt at pancake batter, half of it somehow on the counter instead of the bowl.
James, leaning against the doorway, grins at him. “I did not lie to you.”
“You said I didn’t need measuring cups!” Regulus gestures wildly, sending a puff of flour into the air. “You said, and I quote, ‘Just eyeball it, Reggie, it’ll be fine.’”
“And look! It’s fine,” James says, choking on laughter.
Regulus glares. “This is not fine. This is a culinary disaster.”
James can’t take it anymore, he strides over, cupping Regulus’s flour-dusted cheeks, and kisses him full on the mouth. Regulus makes a surprised noise but melts into it, just for a second, before pulling back with narrowed eyes.
“You’re just doing this to distract me.”
“Is it working?” James smirks.
Regulus huffs, but there’s a telltale twitch at the corner of his lips. “...Maybe.”
The memory fades, but James wakes up with a feeling he hasn’t had in weeks, determination.
He’s going to fix this. He’s going to get Regulus and his awful domestic skills back.
...
James tries. He really does.
He spends the morning attempting to busy himself, he cleans the apartment even though it’s already spotless, he flips through a book but doesn’t absorb a single word.
His fingers tap restlessly against the nightstand as he stares at the engagement photo taped to his headlamp. Regulus smiles at him through the photo, frozen in time, his lips curved into something soft and warm. And that makes his chest tighten painfully.
He doesn’t have a job anymore. He doesn’t have distractions. He only has time, too much of it, and all of it filled with the gaping hole where memories should be.
He tells himself he won’t think about Regulus today. That he’ll do something else.
And yet, before he even realizes it, he’s already halfway through getting dressed, tugging on his shoes with a speed that surprises even him. His heart pounds, not from nerves, but from anticipation. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to say when he gets there, if he’ll say anything at all, but that doesn’t stop him.
By the time he steps outside, the decision is already made.
He’s going to St. Mungo’s.
...
James doesn’t bother stopping at the front desk. He strides past the receptionist without a second thought, heading straight for the elevators. He isn’t even sure if Regulus will be in the ER, but he does know Dorcas will be, and if anyone can tell him where to find Regulus, it’s her.
The moment the elevator doors slide open, the familiar chaos of the ER surrounds him, nurses bustling past, doctors speaking in hushed but urgent tones, the beeping of monitors filling the space. It’s a sensory overload, but James barely notices. His eyes scan the room until they land on Dorcas.
She’s standing near the nurse’s station, flipping through a chart, and when she glances up, her face lights up in surprise. “James?”
He grins. “Hey, Dorcas right? Long time no see.”
Dorcas closes the chart and crosses her arms, giving him a scrutinizing look. “What are you doing here?”
“I was hoping you could tell me where to find Dr. Black.”
The second the words leave his mouth, Dorcas’s expression shifts. Her eyes narrow, and she grabs him by the arm, pulling him aside into a quieter corner.
“Alright,” she says, hands on her hips. “Why is Regulus acting like a bitch?”
James blinks. “What?”
Dorcas huffs. “He was fine before you showed up yesterday. And now? He’s snapping at everyone, being extra bossy, and I know it has something to do with you.” She levels him with a knowing look. “So, what the hell did you do?”
James throws his hands up. “I didn’t do anything!”
Dorcas squints at him like she doesn’t quite believe it. “That’s hard to believe.”
James groans, running a hand through his hair. “I swear I didn’t do anything.”
Dorcas raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
James exhales sharply, glancing around before lowering his voice. “Alright, fine. I may have recently found out that Regulus, Dr. Black, and I were in a relationship, and I may have asked a few questions about it.”
Dorcas clicks her tongue. “Knew it.” She shakes her head, crossing her arms. “You definitely did something. Let me guess, you cornered him, hit him with those big sad Bambi eyes, and asked him why he never told you, right? Or, oh! Maybe you told him you still love him?”
James glares. “I didn’t say that.”
Dorcas smirks. “You thought it, though.”
James groans again. “Are you going to help me find him or not?”
She sighs, tilting her head as if considering it before rolling her eyes. “Fine. Last I checked, he was heading to the break room.”
James’s face lights up, his heart hammering. “You’re the best.” He starts walking away, determined.
“Other direction, dumbass,” Dorcas calls after him.
James skids to a halt, changes direction, and throws her a quick grin. “Right. Thanks, Dorcas."
He moves briskly down the corridor toward the break room, anticipation coiling in his stomach. But as he gets closer, voices filter through the closed door, and he slows his steps.
The first voice is unfamiliar, male, and James instantly dislikes the smug tone.
“I’m just saying,” the man drawls, “you need to have sex to get rid of all this tension. You’re wound way too tight.” There’s a pause, and then, as if it couldn’t get worse, he adds, “I’d be happy to help.”
Then comes the second voice, smooth and familiar, sharp with irritation. “I’m fine, thank you.”
James barely processes the words before it hits him, Regulus.
The jealousy is instant and visceral, a hot, angry rush that burns through him. He hates the idea of Regulus with someone else. Hates it more than he can even comprehend.
Before he can think twice, James pushes the door open.
Inside, Regulus is standing near the counter, and Dr. Rowle, tall, broad, with a cocky smirk, stands far too close. They both turn, startled at the sudden intrusion.
James’s gaze locks onto Regulus, but all he can see is Rowle beside him. And the possessive rage surging through him is impossible to ignore.
James clenches his jaw, every muscle in his body tensing. He knows he has absolutely no say in Regulus’s personal life, no authority over who he sleeps with, who he kisses, who he lusts after. But the thought of Regulus with someone else, anyone else, makes his stomach churn. It doesn’t matter if it’s another man, a woman, a stranger, or a friend. It doesn’t matter because James wants him. He always has.
And he knows exactly what Rowle is doing.
James opens his mouth, fully prepared to say something about professionalism and sexual harassment in the workplace, when Regulus speaks first.
“What are you doing here?” His voice is sharp, clipped, and laced with exhaustion. His gaze flickers with something unreadable, but James doesn’t miss the dark circles under his eyes, the slight droop to his shoulders.
James swallows, refocusing. “I came to talk to you.”
Regulus’s expression hardens instantly. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
James takes a step closer, his voice dropping. “Reg...”
“No.” Regulus cuts him off before he can even begin. “Whatever you think we need to discuss, we don’t.”
James exhales sharply. “Please.” The word is quiet, almost desperate. He doesn’t beg, not usually, but this, this is different. This is Regulus.
For a moment, Regulus looks torn. But then he shakes his head, his walls slamming back into place. “I have to get back to my shift.”
James feels the opportunity slipping through his fingers. “Just five minutes.”
“No.” The answer is firm, final.
James’s heart sinks. But he isn’t giving up. Not yet.
James watches as Regulus walks away, his white coat billowing slightly behind him. He doesn’t look back.
James exhales, running a hand through his hair. He could leave, should leave, but that isn’t who he is. He’s nothing if not persistent, and if Regulus thinks this is over just because he walked away, he’s dead wrong.
So James does what he does best, he digs his heels in.
He strides back to the ER reception, plops himself down in one of the uncomfortable chairs, and folds his arms across his chest. The receptionist gives him a curious look, but he ignores it. He’s staying right here, in plain sight, until Regulus finishes his shift.
Every so often, Dorcas passes by, shooting him amused glances. One of the other nurses asks if he’s waiting for someone, and James simply replies, “Yeah, my fiance."
Hours pass. Doctors and nurses filter in and out, but James stays put. He barely moves, except to stretch his legs or shift in his seat.
He isn’t leaving. Not without talking to Regulus.
...
Regulus tried to focus on his work, tried to push everything else aside, the exhaustion, the pounding headache, the lingering frustration that James Potter always managed to stir in him. He moved from patient to patient, checking charts, giving orders, barely pausing to breathe. He ignored Dorcas’s knowing glances and the way she clearly wanted to say something about James showing up earlier. He buried himself in his tasks, in the steady rhythm of responsibility. But no matter how much he tried, there was an itch at the back of his mind, a constant pull toward something, someone, he was trying to ignore.
It didn’t help that every time he had a spare second, his thoughts wandered to the break room, to James standing there, to the way his jaw had tensed when he saw Thorfinn too close. To the way James had begged him to talk.
Regulus pushed it all down.
By the time midnight rolled around, he was exhausted. He changed out of his white coat, rolled his shoulders back, and made his way to the reception desk. He was halfway to the exit when something made him stop.
James.
Asleep in one of the stiff plastic chairs in the waiting area, his head tilted at an awkward angle, his glasses slightly askew. His arms were folded, but his posture had slumped, betraying just how long he’d been sitting there. And, God help him, he was drooling.
Regulus exhaled sharply through his nose, something uncomfortably close to fondness stirring in his chest.
He turned to the receptionist. "How long has he been here?"
She glanced up from her paperwork and sighed. “He’s been here all day.”
“All day?” Regulus repeated, frowning.
A patient nearby, a middle-aged woman who had been sitting in the same chair for hours, nodded. "It’s true. I’ve been waiting for my mother, and he talked to me. Said his name is James."
Another woman chimed in from across the room. “He helped me with my daughter. She was scared, and he made her laugh. He’s lovely.”
Of course he is, Regulus thought. Of course James couldn’t just sit still and mind his own business. He had to talk to people, help them, charm them without even trying.
Regulus turned back to the receptionist. "Did he say why he was here?"
She hesitated before answering. "Said he was waiting for his fiance."
Something in Regulus's chest clenched.
His fiance.
James didn’t even remember him, and yet somehow, that was still the word he chose.
Dorcas appeared then, arms crossed, a knowing look on her face. “You should talk to him.”
Regulus stayed silent. He should leave. He could turn around right now, walk out the doors, and James would never know he had been standing here.
But when he looked at James again, all of his carefully constructed resolve wavered. Because there he was, his James. The same ridiculous, frustrating, reckless man who made grand gestures and didn’t know when to give up. The same James who used to fall asleep on their couch after a long day, glasses slipping down his nose, hair messier than usual.
Regulus let out a slow breath.
He should go. He should forget about James, forget about everything.
But he couldn’t.
Before he could stop himself, his hand was reaching out, fingers ghosting over James’s shoulder.
“James,” he murmured, voice softer than he intended.
James stirred, blinking blearily up at him, eyes still heavy with sleep, and then he smiled.
“Regulus.” His voice was rough from exhaustion, but it still made something in Regulus’s chest tighten.
Then James wiped the drool off his chin, looking almost sheepish, and Regulus had to fight the ridiculous urge to smile. It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen, not that he would ever admit that out loud.
He cleared his throat, pushing the thought aside. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”
James straightened, adjusting his glasses. “Yeah? You sure?”
Regulus rolled his eyes. “Just get up before I change my mind.”
James grinned, too pleased, too warm, and stood up, stretching. As they walked toward the exit, Dorcas smirked at Regulus, but he ignored her. This wasn’t anything. He was just making sure James got home instead of sleeping in a hospital chair like an idiot.
Outside, the air was cool, the parking lot mostly empty under the dim glow of the streetlights. They walked in silence toward Regulus’s car, their footsteps the only sound. Regulus clicked the car unlocked, and James slid into the passenger seat without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Regulus got in, started the engine, and for a moment, they just sat there.
James exhaled, resting his head against the seat. “Thanks, Reg.”
Regulus tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Don’t call me that.”
James turned to him with a lazy grin. “What, ‘Reg’? Or do you prefer ‘Reggie’? Kinda sexy, actually.”
Regulus shot him a withering look. “I prefer Dr. Black.”
James hummed like he was considering it. “Mmm… nah. ‘Reggie’ suits you better."
Regulus put the car in drive, eyes fixed ahead. “Buckle up before I drive off with the door open.”
James clicked his seatbelt into place, still grinning. “Admit it, you missed me.”
Regulus sighed. “I miss silence.”
James chuckled but did as he was told.
They pulled out of the parking lot and onto the quiet streets, the silence between them thick but not entirely uncomfortable. Regulus could feel James watching him, he could feel the weight of something unsaid pressing between them.
He wasn’t sure he was ready for whatever conversation James wanted to have.
But it was too late to turn back now.
Regulus drove down the familiar streets, the path to the apartment ingrained in his mind despite the months that had passed. It was like it hadn’t been that long since he last made this drive. He parked the car in front of the apartment, the house standing as it always had, silent, unchanged.
James broke the quiet first. “How do you know I live here?” His voice was low, inquisitive.
Regulus chuckled, though the sound felt hollow even to him. “We used to live here together.” He glanced over at James, catching the slight confusion in his gaze. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, seeing James’ face without any recognition of their past. “The lease isn’t up for another six months or so, so I figured you’d still be living here. I used to be the one who kept track of these things."
James’ lips curled up into that charming smile Regulus had once sworn to ignore. “You kept track, huh?” His eyes sparkled with something both nostalgic and mischievous. “So, you were that invested.”
Regulus couldn’t help the way his chest tightened. He leaned back in the seat, trying to hide the way his pulse quickened. He shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t get pulled in again.
James turned to face him, a soft, almost inviting smile spreading across his face. “Would you like to go upstairs?”
Regulus knew the answer was supposed to be no. He should just tell James it wasn’t a good idea, that he couldn’t just walk into that apartment again, not like this. But James’ brown eyes, warm and open in a way that had always unsettled him, made it impossible to refuse. The words died in his throat.
"Just for a minute,” James added, his tone playful, almost teasing.
Regulus let out a breath, clenching his jaw. He should say no. He knew it. But there was something about the way James was looking at him, something that pulled at all the threads he’d spent months trying to unravel. Without another word, Regulus nodded, his voice a soft murmur. “Alright. Just for a minute.”
And just like that, he was walking up those familiar stairs again, every step feeling like a decision he might regret.
When James reached for his keys, Regulus noticed immediately, his snake keychain dangled from the ring, just as it always had. His chest tightened, and he resisted the urge to say something. Why would he? They weren’t supposed to be talking about things like that, not yet, not when James couldn’t even remember it all.
James turned the key and the door clicked open. “Feels good to be back home, huh?” he said with a grin, stepping inside like he’d never left.
Regulus chuckled softly, his hands shoved into his pockets as he followed James into the apartment. “Home, huh? You sure about that?” He looked around, the nostalgia crashing into him all at once. It had been a year since he'd last been in there, and yet everything looked so... familiar. The way the light hit the walls, the way the couch looked a little more worn but still as comfortable, the kitchen with the mismatched cups that he used to mock every morning, he missed it.
He stood by the doorway, taking it all in. The smell of the apartment was exactly the same, a mix of coffee, old books, and the faint hint of lavender from the air freshener James insisted on using. It was strange, how something so simple could bring back so many memories.
“It hasn’t changed.” Regulus murmured, mostly to himself. The realization hit him harder than expected. He missed this place. Missed the way they’d spent lazy Sundays here, the way James would play his favorite songs loud enough to rattle the windows, the way they’d argue over the smallest things, like the temperature of the apartment or whose turn it was to do the dishes. All of it came rushing back, memories flitting in and out of his mind like ghosts.
James glanced back at him with that smile, the one that still made Regulus’ heart skip. Regulus cleared his throat, trying to push the ache back down. “Yeah, well, some things never change.” He stepped further inside, pretending not to care that he was suddenly choking on the weight of everything this apartment used to represent.