The Quidditch pitch at night has always been James' favorite place to stargaze. It's empty and peaceful, a huge contrast of how his day has always been with his friends. He loves it, don't get him wrong, but there's just something in the way the pitch bathed in the soft glow of the moon.
In the quiet of the night, James Potter lay flat on the grass, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the sky. He wasn’t sure why he was out here instead of laying on his bed at his dorm room where the bed was definitely softer and more comfortable than the grass, but something about the stars tonight had caught his attention.
A few feet away, someone else had the same idea.
Regulus Black stood at the edge of the stands, his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the constellations above. He hadn’t expected anyone to be here considering that it's almost midnight, most of the students being in their dorm rooms, much less James Potter. But instead of leaving, he hesitated. At first, Regulus just let him be there, laying on the grass like an idiot but then, James started talking to himself. The Gryffindor hadn’t noticed him yet, too busy muttering something about Orion’s Belt looking lopsided.
Regulus exhaled, half-annoyed, half-intrigued. He stepped forward, giving James a brief glance
“Orion’s Belt is three perfectly aligned stars,” he corrected, his voice quiet but certain. “It doesn’t look lopsided.”
James jolted from where he was lying, propping himself up on his elbows. He blinked at Regulus and squinted his eyes, trying to see past the darkness, then grinned when his vision finally adjusted and realized who it was. “Well, well. Didn’t know stargazing was a Slytherin hobby.”
Regulus gave a noncommittal shrug. “It isn’t.”
James scooted over, patting the grass beside him in an exaggerated gesture. “Then why are you here, oh mysterious one?”
Regulus hesitated for a moment before sitting down, but not too close. No one in his cirlce had ever asked him to sit on the grass. It's dirty, and sometimes soggy. He tilted his head upward, gaze locking onto a particular star. James followed his line of sight.
“Regulus,” James mused aloud and then pointed at a particular star formation. “That one’s yours, isn’t it?”
Regulus tensed slightly. He wanted to question why James knew so much about constellations, but before he could respond, James grinned.
“You know, kind of funny how Sirius is named after the brightest star, and yet you’re the one who seems to have all the presence.”
Regulus blinked. He didn’t know what he expected James Potter to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. A compliment disguised as a joke. But then he shouldn't be shocked, he knew less of James Potter than that one candy Sirius had given him when they were little from a muggle.
He scoffed, but James caught the faintest trace of amusement on his face.
“Congratulations, Potter. That might be the first time you’ve said something remotely insightful.”
James clutched his chest dramatically, his face bright and his laugh full. “Merlin, did Regulus Black just acknowledge my intelligence? Must be a full moon.”
Regulus rolled his eyes but didn’t get up to leave. He didn't say anything and sat there, looking up at the star-filled sky. James didn't say anything after that. And somehow, not getting up to leave felt more significant than anything Regulus could have said.