vignettes

James watches from where he sits on a grassy knoll as Regulus talks urgently with Harry. He uses his hands, makes big gestures with his arms, and shows Harry exactly how to lean, how to push in to the broom but also pull out.

“—this way and you’ll pull too far left, so you want to make sure you pull out and up, otherwise you’ll fall right off.” Regulus demonstrates the movement on his own broom, though his feet never leave the ground.

They haven’t in months.

Harry nods, excited, and his glasses slip down his nose. He pushes at them, then clambers onto his broom. “Good, Papa?”

“Go. I’ll watch.”

James pulls his legs to his chest and rests his chin on his knees. He watches Harry zoom into the sky—it’s a clear day, blue without a cloud in sight—and though he almost overcorrects, he manages it in the end.

Regulus smiles up at Harry, then reaches for the sky with a closed fist. “Ready for the Snitch?”

“Ready, Papa!” Harry calls down.

The Snitch shoots like a rocket, but Harry spots it easily. He flattens on his broom and follows after it. His maneuvers on his broom are so similar to Regulus’; he’s fearless, willing to hang by his fingers if it means he can close his hands around the little golden ball.

Regulus comes to sit at James’ left side. He nudges with his shoulder until James lifts his arm for Regulus to nestle against him.

“You’re teaching him to ride his broom like a madman,” James muses. “Hogwarts is going to ban him from the pitch with those sort of moves.”

“Then I’ll march down there myself and tell them to change the damn rules.” Regulus reaches for James’ left hand. He holds it up, fingers splayed against the sky. Hums when he brushes the pad of his thumb against the star and R tattoo on James’ ring finger. “I remember our first game, you know.”

James’ heart soars. “Oh?”

“Mm. I was thirteen. You were fourteen.” Regulus brings James’ hand to his mouth, kisses the tattoo and continues, “But I still rode a broom better than you.”

“You do ride very well,” James whispers in Regulus’ ear, soft curls tickling his nose. “I’ve seen first hand just how good you can—”

Regulus smacks his shin. “Shut up. Harry might hear you.”

“He’s in the clouds, love. Not paying attention. Come here.” James pulls Regulus impossibly closer and buries his nose in his hair. “What else do you remember about that game?”

“I remember you scored so many points that I kept having to wait to catch the Snitch. It pissed me off. Slytherin would get right there, and then you’d score more points and I’d have to wait, otherwise even with the Snitch you would still have more points than us.”

James snorts. “Slytherin always needed the Cup in the end.”

“Of course we did. We were the best of all the houses.”

“Anything else?”

Regulus is quiet for a moment, but he eventually says, “No. That’s all I remember.”

James’ heart plummets. Slams right into the ground and disappears beneath the earth.

I can’t believe you kept scoring! Regulus had said after the game, when it was just them in the locker room. You’re annoying, you know that? I kept having to wait for that stupid Snitch, and your Seeker was always on my tail.

Not sure why it’s my fault you had to play the game the way it’s meant to be played.

It just is, Potter.

And James, high on adrenaline from the game, had said, You know, you’re hot when you’re angry. Almost as hot as you are when you’re up on your broom. So it’s really ruining this whole…threatening effect you’re going for.

E-Excuse me?

You heard me. It all came out in a rush, that first confession. I’ve wanted to ask you out for awhile and It’s weird but I watch you in the library sometimes and If you don’t feel the same it’s fine I just wanted—

Regulus kissed him then, when they still smelled of grass and sweat and a little like the rain that started near the end of the game. Kissed him so completely that James will never forget the way it felt.

Like the first time he rode a broom.

The first time he held a wand in his hand.

Kissing Regulus felt like magic because Regulus was magic.

Now, James kisses the top of Regulus’ head and tries not to show the hurt. Regulus remembers, but only ever in pieces. And so often, he forgets them. Knows the outline but not the colors of a moment.

James is lucky that Regulus has fallen in love with him a second time. That he rolls over each morning and takes James’ left hand, kisses the R on his ring finger and smiles. That despite the gaps in his life, somehow he found it within himself to love James all over again.

But there is indescribable grief in loving Regulus in two parts: his Regulus, who kissed him in a locker room when they were teenagers and never let him go; and this Regulus, who loves him still but different. Who is learning but doesn’t know.

They sit in silence the rest of the afternoon as Harry whoops and hollers in the sky, until the sun begins to set and James calls for him, and the three of them return home.