“Come on, Jamie. You can do better than that. Stretch just a little farther for me.”
James stared at himself in the reflection of the mirror. It was so large that it covered the entire wall, and when James looked up, he saw Regulus, standing above him, staring down at his legs with those striking, stormy silver eyes. The feeling of being watched so closely made James shiver.
“How much longer?” James asked breathlessly, trying to remember everything he was told to do. Square his hips. Point his feet. Straighten his legs. Touch the ground.
“As long as it takes,” Regulus snapped, kneeling in front of James and tilting his chin upwards, “You want to get better, don’t you? You want to have an oversplit, just like everyone else, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” James said quickly, “But it’s starting to-”
“No buts,” Regulus interrupted sharply, “Do you think I got my oversplit by complaining? Do you think anybody did? The only thing that’s stopping you is your own laziness. So keep stretching.”
James went quiet. And he kept stretching. He did not like Regulus very much, but he needed to improve his ballet technique for this next competition, and he couldn’t bear to ask Remus or Sirius for help. The thought of being tutored by his two best friends, and the most prodigal members of the company, was utterly humiliating. Besides, when James had asked for help on the bulletin board, Regulus jumped at the opportunity. He practically signed his name before James finished pinning up the paper. And James figured that somebody so enthusiastic to teach him would do a good job.
Maybe too good a job.
When Regulus finally let James come out of the stretch, James tumbled to the side and hugged his knees to try and relieve his aching hip flexors.
“Oh, Jamie,” Regulus chuckled, “You’ve always been so sensitive. It’s sweet. I appreciate you’re trying so hard, just for me. I always thought you didn’t like me.”
James bit his tongue before he could say that Regulus was right, that James did not like him. Sirius had told James about all the horrible things that Regulus had said and done. About what Regulus thought about the dance industry. How Regulus believed that only petite, skinny, white, rich people of good breeding like him could succeed. People like Regulus. James looked in the mirror at his brown skin, slightly curvy legs, prominent calf muscles. He knew he didn’t fit in the beauty standards of traditional ballet very well, while Regulus fit them to a tee. Even though James tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter, he still could not help but feel slightly inadequate.
James knew that regardless of what he thought of Regulus, he needed these tutoring sessions. Ever since they first started, James had been improving rapidly in his ballet technique, something that had always been severely lacking before. Sure, he could tell a story with his body and especially his face. He could play any character onstage. But as he grew older, it started to matter less that he could tell a story because his actual dance ability was far behind others of his age. He had to catch up if he was ever going to be a professional dancer. And Regulus was the only person who could keep James improving.
“You know what? I think you’ve earned a little break,” Regulus decided with an authoritative air. He sat next to James, leaning against his arm. Then, he chuckled and held up his hand. “Look. My hand is so much smaller than yours. Isn’t that funny?”
“Well, you are a year younger than me,” James pointed out placidly.
“Still,” Regulus continued, “You could probably wrap your hands all around my waist and it wouldn’t be anything. You wanna try?”
James winced at the idea of touching Regulus so intimately.
“No thank you,” he said, turning away, “I wouldn’t want to risk hurting you.”
“Oh, you could never hurt me, Jamie,” Regulus purred, crawling closer to James, and starting to climb into James’ lap. “You’re as gentle as a deer. You couldn’t hurt a fly, even if you wanted to. I know you’re big, but I also know how you think, James Potter. You’re a gentleman.”
James tensed up as he felt Regulus’ small, bony form settle in his lap. He was afraid to breathe, just in case it hurt the boy who was so close to him.
“I know you’re interested,” Regulus hummed, smirking at James in the mirror, “I can feel you against me.”
James went bright red, and his heart hammered in his chest. He resisted the urge to squirm. He could feel the walls closing around him, and James realized that he didn’t think he had ever been more uncomfortable in all his life. His breathing started to quicken.
“No,” he whispered, “No- I- I’m not interested. I’m not interested in anything, Regulus. I’m ready to dance. Can we go back to dancing now?”
“You can’t lie to me, Jamie,” Regulus chuckled, “I can feel you. I’m sitting in your lap. You can’t hide from me. It’s alright. There’s no need to be ashamed. I want you too, you know.”
“I don’t want you!” James choked out, shaking his head quickly, “Please just- can’t we keep dancing? I want to keep dancing now.”
James carefully started to squirm away from Regulus, but Regulus turned around in James’ lap and held firmly onto his shoulders, opening his legs so that he could wrap them around James’ waist. As James felt Regulus against him, he grew sick inside.
“You know, Jamie…it’s terribly rude to treat a boy like this,” Regulus said plaintively, starting to card his small white fingers through James’ thick, dark brown curls. “I thought you were a big, strong, gentlemanly type. You’re not really afraid of a little fooling around, are you? Nobody else is here. Nobody else will know. It’s just you and me.”
“It’s not that I’m afraid,” James whispered, “I just- I- I just don’t want to-”
“Would you stop lying to yourself?” Regulus demanded playfully, and he gripped some of James’ hair to keep his head still. “Your body knows you want me. It’s simple biology, what happens to a man when they’re…intrigued. You can look in the mirror and see for yourself what you feel. I can help you. I can make you feel so good, Jamie.”
James couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak for a long time as his throat burned. His vision grew blurry as tears threatened to spill down his red hot face.
“I don’t- I don’t want you to- please-” James whispered, swallowing thickly. “Please, can’t we just-”
Regulus kissed James with such a vigor, such a passion, that it was painful to endure. James closed his eyes, and the tears fell. The worst part of it all was that Regulus didn’t care. He only swept the tears away with his little fingers. Regulus was so much smaller, but when he told James to lay down on his back, James was afraid to disobey. There was something predatory in Regulus’ eyes that James couldn’t fight against, though he tried. Every time James willed the words to reach his lips, they got stuck in his throat, and he felt as though he was choking.
James felt Regulus hold him down and his skin felt fuzzy as Regulus pulled down his leotard and tights. The air around him was cold, but James could not shiver. He could not move at all. All he could do was stare up at the off-white ceiling and silently cry.
“You’re so beautiful, Jamie,” Regulus murmured, “I know you’re so shy. You don’t want to admit that you want this. You probably feel guilty, feeling so much lust for someone like me. Please don’t feel guilty. I love you, just like you love me. I’m going to take real good care of you. I know you’ll be a good boy. I know you won’t fight. After all, I’m so little. You wouldn’t want to hurt me, would you?”
Panic coursed through James’ system as he thought about this possibility. Even if he did find the ability to move again, he could not struggle. He could not push Regulus off him and run away. Regulus was such a small boy. While James was going on eighteen, Regulus had just turned sixteen. While James had the makings of a young man, Regulus still looked like a boy, with his delicate limbs and fragile form. James knew that one wrong move could injure Regulus terribly, and if James ever did hurt Regulus, what would Sirius think? Regulus was his little brother. Even if Sirius hated Regulus’ guts, there was no way Sirius would ever want him hurt, especially by James.
It wasn’t fair. James knew it wasn’t fair. He felt like a part of him was dying, being drained out of him as Regulus held his manhood in his tiny hands. It wasn’t fair. James didn’t want this. He said no, and Regulus didn’t even ask the question. It wasn’t fair. Why was this happening to him? James wasn’t helpless. He wasn’t small or defenseless. He could fight back. He could escape. But at the same time, he couldn’t. How could he? How could he when Regulus had such sway over everybody here? James couldn’t make an enemy of Regulus. It could ruin his career, and all of his friendships.
Tears continued to wet James’ face to the point where they dripped onto the cold, hard dance floor. He could feel his body spasming. He could feel moans escaping his lips that he did not agree to let out. He could feel his limbs trembling, his core contracting and expanding. Though he felt all of these overwhelming sensations all at once, he also felt none of them at all. A part of him refused to believe that any of this was even happening. After all, it was so outlandish. His best friend’s little brother, treating him like putty in his hands. Someone so small, so weak and whiny. Someone he stood up against every day. What made this moment so different? What made James go still as a statue the second Regulus’ hands explored the space between his thighs?
James did not know how long he had been trapped underneath Regulus’ domineering little hand. It could have been minutes, or it could have been weeks. It made no difference to James. He felt ten years older. Regulus licked his lips as he helped James pull up his tights and leotard.
“Look at yourself,” Regulus pushed gently, guiding James’ head to the mirror, “Really look at yourself. You’re so beautiful when you let me take care of you. Now, I think we’ve had enough dancing today. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Regulus smiled pleasantly, but his eyes glinted with a warning. He stared at James as he stood in the doorway, and tilted his head just slightly to the side.
“Remember, Jamie,” he said softly, “You wanted me. Even your body knew it.”
And then, Regulus was gone. The door swung closed, and James was all alone in the studio, staring at himself in the mirror. The mirror that covered the entire wall. The mirror that saw everything, but could not tell a soul. Just like James.
James slowly stood, his legs trembling like a fawn’s. He walked the perimeter of the studio until he could walk in a straight line, and he wiped and wiped at his face until all the tears were gone. And then, he looked in the mirror. And he smiled. Again, and again, and again, until finally, it looked a little bit real.
And then, James Potter left the studio, and he pretended that he did not feel a small, cold, white hand every time the wind and his seatbelt and his bedsheets made contact with his skin. After all, this had all been his fault. He had wanted it. His body told him so.
As he fell asleep, having thrown his blanket off himself to keep the feeling of constriction at bay, James heard a voice echo in his head as plain as day, and it made him want to shout and thrash and cry.
“Come on, Jamie. You can do better than that. Stretch just a little farther for me.”
The scream that erupted from his chest was not heard by James. But it was felt. It was felt until his throat went raw, and he fell asleep with tears and snot dripping into his mouth, past his dry and parted lips.