The Star and The Fool
James was laughing again.
The sound carried through the open window where I always find myself—either reading a book or just looking out at the lake. His laughter was filling the house with something light, something unshaken. I had not meant to hear his it. Had not meant to listen. But I had been standing in the hallway for half a minute already, book in hand, and still, the laughter had found me anyway.
It was Sirius who had made him laugh, no doubt. I knew that before I even stepped into the sunlit room where they sat—James sprawled across the old couch, Sirius perched on the armrest like he belonged nowhere else. They were reckless in their comfort, legs draped over cushions, gestures broad and unrestrained. There was no distance between them. No hesitation.
I lingered in the doorway, unseen. Oddly enough, they were too busy talking to even notice my presence.
They were talking about that time James had decided it was the best idea to make a fool of himself to impress Evans. Evans. The girl he used to be chasing around the Hogwarts but stopped for some reason I have no interest in knowing about. Sirius was gasping through his laughter, doubled over, shoulders shaking.
James groaned, shoving at him. “That’s not how it happened. And it is in the past now.”
“That’s exactly how it happened.”
Their laughter overlapped, tangled. It was the kind of laughter that came from knowing each other too well, from years of inside jokes and moments retold too many times. I should have left then, should have continued down the hall, but instead, I stayed.
I told myself I was only watching Sirius. My brother, who had always been more a storm than a person, more impulse than restraint. My brother, who had talked back to our parents, who had found something outside of our family that made him stay.
But it wasn’t Sirius I kept looking at.
James threw his head back as he laughed, the golden light catching in his hair, the sharp line of his jaw. He had an ease about him, a way of taking up space without demanding it. And almost every time, the sun was there to witness it. To make it seem more majestic. His glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them up absently, eyes bright, mouth still curved in amusement.
I didn’t understand it—the pull of him, the way my gaze kept drifting back.
Sirius had always been drawn to people like this. People who burned bright, who spoke as though the world belonged to them, filling the spaces as if they were meant to fill those gaps. People who laughed without hesitation. But I had never been that way. I had never wanted to be.
James must have felt my stare because his gaze flickered toward the doorway. For one brief moment, his eyes met mine. And then he smiled. The same smile he always does every time he catches a glimpse of me, certain and unhesitant.
“Regulus,” he said, like he had been waiting for me to appear. “Come to join us?”
Sirius turned then, finally noticing me. His expression was unreadable, caught between amusement and annoyance. “Didn’t think this was your scene, little brother.”
It wasn’t. It never had been. But James was still looking at me, still expecting.
I hesitated. Then, without a word, I stepped into the room.
---
The afternoon stretched on, slow and golden.
Sirius did most of the talking. He always did. James matched his energy, tossing back remarks without missing a beat, their rhythm so practiced it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. I sat across from them, half-listening, trying to understand something unnamed.
They made it look easy. Being like this. Laughing until their ribs ached, shoving each other without thinking twice. It wasn’t just familiarity—it was something deeper. A certainty in the space they occupied together.
I should have been used to it. I had spent years watching Sirius fall into new friendships with the kind of intensity that made it impossible to pull him back. But James was different. Or maybe it was the way I saw him that was different. And it is James who he had met first amongst his friends.
“Regulus,” James said suddenly, his voice pulling me out from my thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet over there.”
I met his gaze. “I don’t see the point in speaking just to fill silence.”
James grinned. “You wound me. You don’t enjoy our company?”
I meant to say something sharp in response, something cool and dismissive. But before I could, Sirius threw an arm around James’ shoulders and said, “Don’t take it personally, Prongs. Reggie’s always been a bit of a brooding little prince.”
James hummed, tilting his head as if considering me. “A prince, huh?”
His voice was light, teasing. But there was something else beneath it—something curious, something searching.
I hated that I didn’t look away first.
---
Later, when the sun had begun to set and Sirius had dragged James outside to the lake, I remained behind.
I told myself I had no interest in going with them. That I didn’t care what they were doing. But as soon as my feet started walking back to my room, I stood near the window again, looking down at the water’s edge. I found them immediately.
Sirius shoved James toward the lake, and James caught himself before he could fall, laughing as he grabbed Sirius’ wrist in retaliation, tugging but failing to do so. Their movements were wild, unrestrained. They wrestled like children, tumbling through the grass, limbs tangling in a way that seemed entirely thoughtless. And then, with one final push, Sirius sent James into the water.
James surfaced with a gasp, hair dripping, glasses missing. He shoved wet strands from his face to the back, grinning even as he cursed at Sirius, who was doubled over laughing on the shore, and his forehead exposed.
I should have looked away.
But James turned then, looking back toward the house, looking up toward the window where I stood. And for a second, it felt like he could see me. Felt like he could tell I was standing there, looking at them.
For a second, it felt like I was the one standing on that shore, feet in the wet grass, heart thundering against my ribs.
I exhaled slowly and stepped away from the window.
I did not check to see if he kept looking.