swear
They’re eleven the first time they swear to it.
James stands off to the side of his best friend’s fake wedding to a boy named Remus. He stands beside his best friend’s brother, a slight boy with a shock of black hair.
When Sirius says I do and their friends start to clap, James leans over and says, “Hey, Reg. Let’s make a pact.”
And Regulus looks up at him with wide gray eyes, asks, “Oh?”
“Yeah. If we’re not married to someone else by twenty-five, let’s get married.”
Regulus blinks. Seems to weigh the options, but eventually extends his hand, pinky out, and says, “You swear it?”
“I swear it.”
They’re fourteen the second time they swear it.
Regulus is crying, his head on James’ chest, heartbroken because another boy didn’t turn out to be quite right. James presses a kiss to the crown of his head, says, “It’ll be alright in the end, Reg,” and Regulus wipes at his nose.
“I don’t want to be with someone that hurts me.”
“I don’t think any of us do, love.” James smiles at him. Tries not to acknowledge the pang in his chest at the sight of Regulus’ eyes so shiny with tears.
James wants to hit the boy who did it. Punch him right into the floor and rearrange his face. He knows Sirius already did it, but James wishes he’d had a go of it, too.
Instead, he pulls Regulus close on the park bench, looks up at the stars and says, “If we get married someday, I swear I won’t break your heart. Can you do the same?”
Regulus sniffles, extends his his hand, pinky out. “I swear it.”
They’re eighteen the first time they kiss.
It’s an accident spurred on by the alcohol in their veins. James doesn’t mean to do it, but he’s so in love with Regulus that he aches for him. Sees him stood there under club lights of purple and pink and blue and yellow and thinks, He’s beautiful.
Reaches out, takes chiseled cheeks between his palms and pulls Regulus to him, emboldened by Jack Daniels to press their lips together right there in the middle of a mass of bodies.
It’s wild, the feel of it. Not James’ first kiss by any means but it still fills something in him. When he pulls back, Regulus smiles up at him, flushed and happy.
“Can you do that again?” he asks over the music. “I want to do that a thousand more times.”
James grins, so full he’s going to burst. He extends a hand, pinky out, and says, “A thousand more times, you say? But do you swear it?”
Regulus throws his head back and laughs, but he loops his pinky with James’ and says, “I swear it.”
They’re twenty-five when they kiss for the thousandth time—or maybe it’s the millionth; they aren’t keeping track.
It’s at the end of an aisle in front of all their friends, fourteen years almost to the date since that first I swear it. James stands all in white, Regulus in crisp black. They look at one another as though there isn’t a single other person in the room.
And maybe there isn’t, in this moment.
“Do you swear to love me for the rest of your life?” James asks, and extends his hand, pinky out. “Do you swear that no matter how many times we fight, it’ll always be us in the end?”
Regulus reaches out, loops their pinkies together. Cups his other hand behind James’ neck to pull him down and whispers against his wild grin,
“I swear it.”