the trouble

He had always considered himself a rational person. Regulus believed in logic. In patterns. In the certainty that two plus two would always equal four, and that the world operated under a set of rules that made sense. 

Which was why the sudden and persistent appearance of James Potter in his daily life was beginning to feel highly suspect.

At first, he dismissed it as coincidence. A few chance encounters in the corridor? Annoying, but not impossible. Hogwarts wasn’t that big.

But then there was the library incident.

Regulus had been studying in his usual spot—fourth table from the Restricted Section, perfectly quiet, Potter-free—when he appeared.

“Fancy seeing you here, Black.” The same radiant yet rug voice. One would not expect a face like James Potter to have a striking, deep voice, but everything about him has always been striking—not just to Regulus.

And so, he did not look up from his book. “I highly doubt that, Potter.”

Potter grinned, he knew it despite not looking up from his book, as he heard the seat across from him scraped the floor. “What, a bloke can’t expand his intellectual horizons?”

Regulus gave him a flat look when he looked up. “You are holding your textbook upside down.”

Potter glanced at the book, turned it the right way up, and smirked. “That was just a test to see if you were paying attention.”

Regulus exhaled sharply through his nose and returned to his notes. If he ignored Potter long enough, surely he’d get bored. Wrong. Absolutely, ridiculously wrong.

“McGonagall was very impressed by our cleaning skills.” James said, lifting his legs and put it over the seat in front of him, grinning at Regulus.

Regulus groaned internally. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Because I like watching you pretend you don’t enjoy it.”

Regulus slammed his book shut. “I am leaving.”

“Come now, Black,” Potter said, grinning as Regulus stood. “We both know this won’t be the last time we see each other.”

Regulus left before he could ask what, exactly, that meant. James always say weird things and he's too heated to stay and listen to him babble.

The next encounter was in the Quidditch stands.

Regulus wasn’t playing—Slytherin’s practice had ended an hour ago, and he’d stayed behind to enjoy the rare moment of solitude. He was sitting in the top row, basking in the quiet.

A loud thud sounded beside him.

Regulus didn't even flinch or jolted from the sudden noise, turning, already knowing who it was.

James Potter stood there, broom in hand, grinning like a lunatic.

“You do realize this is the Slytherin side, don’t you?” Regulus asked dryly as he took the older’s appearance. His usual messy hair was even messier, his glasses a bit crooked before he reached and adjusted it to his liking, running his hand through his hair.

Potter shrugged, dropping onto the bench beside him. “And?”

Regulus gave him a long look. In a matter-of-fact tone, he said, “And you’re a Gryffindor.”

“I don’t believe in labels.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, hating the way words just seemed to come out automatically out of James’ mouth. “How unfortunate for you, then, that labels exist whether you believe in them or not.”

Potter laughed, as if Regulus had made a joke.

Regulus did not appreciate this.

He turned back toward the field, intent on ignoring Potter’s presence, only to find him still sitting there. Comfortably. As if he belonged.

Regulus huffed. “Are you lost, or do you simply enjoy being a menace?”

Potter hummed, tilting his head as if considering it and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Bit of both, I think.”

Regulus sighed. “Of course.”

By the fourth encounter, Regulus was convinced Potter was following him. He must be.

He had been heading toward the dungeons when he rounded a corner and promptly crashed into a very solid, very warm chest. It even made a thud sound as he almost lost his balance and stumbled back.

Regulus scowled. “Potter.”

James grinned down at him, like he always does. “Regulus.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes, scowling. “Why are you everywhere?”

Potter leaned against the wall, looking entirely too smug. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Regulus huffed, stepping around him. “Unlike you, I do not roam the halls seeking attention.”

Potter turned to follow him. “Sure you don’t.”

Regulus stopped walking, turning to James slowly. “Are you following me?”

Potter gasped, hand over his heart. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing!”

Regulus stared.

Potter smirked.

Regulus sighed. “Goodbye, Potter.”

“Goodnight, Black,” Potter called after him.

Regulus did not stomp as he walked away, no matter what Potter’s laughter implied. He had hoped that, given time, Potter would get bored. 

Potter did not get bored.

A week later, Regulus found himself sitting outside by the Black Lake, enjoying the moment of peace. The breeze was cold against his face but he did not mind. Barty and Evans has been making out for the past hours and he simply cannot stay in the Slytherin common room or even just near the door of it.

“You have a habit of running away, you know.”

Regulus closed his eyes as he let out a sigh. “Why. are. you. here.”

Potter plopped down beside him, a bit too close for his liking. “It’s a free country.”

“This is Scotland.”

Potter waved a hand. “Details.”

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to James. “Potter.”

“Black.”

Sighing, Regulus shifted and gave a fair distance between them. “Do you ever stop talking?”

Potter pretended to consider, his eyes darting towards the black lake. “Not if I can help it.”

Regulus shook his head. “I don’t understand you.”

Potter grinned. “I get that a lot.”

Regulus exhaled sharply, turning his gaze toward the water. He did not look at Potter. He did not notice how the late afternoon light caught in his hair, or how his grin was annoyingly attractive when he wasn’t being an absolute menace.

Regulus did not notice any of these things. Definitely.

“I have a question,” Potter said suddenly, destroying yet another peaceful moment as if showing up uninvited wasn't enough but still, he wasn't gonna fuzz about it.

Regulus hummed, still watching the water. “What?”

“Why do you always look so surprised when I talk to you?”

“What?” Regulus blinked. “What are you talking about?” He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable by the way James was eyeing him intensely.

Potter’s expression was uncharacteristically thoughtful. “You act like it’s unthinkable that I might enjoy your company.”

Regulus frowned like the older one just said something so obvious. “Because it is.”

Potter snorted, his knees meeting his chest as he propped one elbow and rested his head on the palm of his hand. “And why’s that?”

Regulus gestured vaguely between them. “Because we are not friends.”

“No, we’re something much more interesting,” James muttered, not even breaking eye contact.

Regulus narrowed his eyes. Suddenly, his ribcage wanted to separate from his flesh. “And what, exactly, do you think we are?”

Potter grinned. “Still figuring that out, but I’ll let you know.”

Regulus stared at him for a long moment. Then, shaking his head, he turned back toward the lake.

James Potter is trouble.

And Regulus Black had absolutely no idea what to do about it.