AN AWFUL ESSAY
The next day, Regulus found himself in the library, surrounded by towering shelves filled with dusty old books. His quill scratched nervously across the parchment, the words of his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay hardly coming together. He was still struggling to reconcile his emotions and it was clearly affecting him in more ways than one.
He couldn’t focus. Not with the weight of it all pressing down on him. His hand shook as he wrote a sentence and quickly erased it, starting over, only to scratch it out again. He sighed, rubbing his eyes, wishing for some clarity, some way to escape the confusion that seemed to be his constant companion lately.
The library, as usual, was quiet, save for the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional murmur of students working at nearby tables. Regulus barely noticed anyone else around him, so lost in his thoughts, until he heard a familiar voice.
“Oi, Regulus. Is everything alright in there?"
He looked up, startled, to see James standing at the end of his table, grinning at him with that easy smile that made Regulus’s chest tighten. His hair was a little messy, as usual, and he had that relaxed, carefree air about him that made it look like nothing could ever get under his skin.
“James,” Regulus replied, his voice a little more clipped than he intended. “What do you want?”
James chuckled, stepping forward, his gaze flicking over Regulus’s half-finished essay. “It’s clear you’re in a bit of a bind with that essay,” James said, leaning over the table to peer at the parchment. “I could help you with it if you want. It’s one of my better subjects, after all.”
Regulus hesitated, his gut tightening at the offer. He wanted to say no, to tell James to go away, to stop pushing into his space so easily. But he also knew he was struggling with the assignment. And despite himself, a part of him wanted to hear James’s voice, wanted to spend more time with him, even if it was under the guise of an essay.
“I… suppose I could use some help,” Regulus finally muttered, feeling like he was giving in to something he shouldn’t. His eyes flickered up to James’s face, only for a moment, before looking away. His cheeks were warm, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the proximity. Or maybe it was the fact that James was offering to spend time with him, even if it was just to help him with homework.
James grinned, his expression lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Good choice, mate. We can knock this out in no time.” He pulled out the chair next to Regulus, settling down without waiting for an invitation. The space between them felt like it was getting smaller by the second, and Regulus fought the urge to scoot back, to create some distance between them.
James slid the book toward Regulus, the movement making their fingers brush briefly. Regulus’s heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat as he jerked his hand back like he’d been burned, even though it had been a mere touch. He glanced at James, who didn’t seem to notice the effect he’d had, but Regulus couldn’t focus.
“You alright?” James asked, his tone light but with a hint of concern in his voice. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
Regulus nodded quickly, feeling like a fool. “I’m fine,” he said, clearing his throat. “Just… distracted.”
“Fair enough,” James said with a chuckle, leaning in closer to point at the paragraph Regulus had been struggling with. “Alright, let’s start with this bit. You’ve got the right idea, but it needs a little more detail. You want to explain how the curses work, not just the effects.” He tapped the parchment with his quill, making Regulus flinch.
The proximity was suffocating. Regulus felt the heat radiating from James, smelled the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the musty air of the library. The way James was leaning in made Regulus’s heart pound louder in his chest.
“I… don’t know how to explain it,” Regulus muttered, his voice tighter than he intended. He reached for the book in front of him, fingers brushing against James’s hand again. This time, the contact lingered for just a second longer, and Regulus swore his pulse skipped a beat. He could feel the warmth of James’s hand, even through the thin fabric of his robes, and it sent a jolt of electricity straight through him.
James didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he was pretending not to. His eyes stayed fixed on the book, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “It’s alright,” he said, completely at ease. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Just write what you know. You can always revise it later.”
Regulus nodded, trying to keep his breathing steady, trying to ignore the way his skin tingled wherever James had touched him. He focused on the essay in front of him, on the words that were slowly starting to make sense, though his mind kept straying. Every time James leaned in a little closer, or when his voice dropped an octave as he explained something, Regulus felt like his entire world was collapsing into this tiny, dizzying space. He wanted to be angry with himself, wanted to scream at his foolishness, but the words never came.
James was still talking, his voice steady and warm. “It’s all about breaking it down, yeah? The curses might be dark, but they’re still just spells. They follow the same basic rules as any other charm, just—well, a bit more dangerous.” His hand brushed against Regulus’s again as he moved the parchment, and this time, Regulus could do nothing but stare at the spot where their fingers had met, his chest tight and his thoughts scattering.
Regulus took a deep breath and tried to focus, forcing himself to look at the parchment instead of James’s face, trying to ignore the rush of feelings that swirled in his stomach. His heart was racing, and for once, he didn’t know how to stop it.
“Got it?” James asked, his eyes sparkling with that friendly, caring look that always seemed to make Regulus’s heart ache. He looked like he cared, even though Regulus had no idea why.
Regulus nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. I think I’ve got it.”
But the truth was, Regulus hadn’t really understood a word of what James had just said. All he could think about was how close James had been, how his hand had brushed his, and how nothing—nothing at all—seemed to make sense anymore.
Regulus stared down at the parchment before him, the words of his essay finally flowing with some semblance of order. His quill hovered above the paper, steady now as he filled in the final details of his assignment. The faint scratches of his quill against the parchment were the only sound in the otherwise quiet library, the only distraction his racing thoughts.
The essay was finally done, but Regulus didn’t feel the relief he expected. Instead, a sinking sensation weighed heavily in his chest. He reread the last paragraph, the ink barely dry, but the words felt hollow. It wasn’t the essay that had been the problem—it was the interactions leading up to this moment. The way his heart had hammered in his chest when James leaned over his shoulder, or when their hands had brushed against each other.
He frowned, tapping the quill against the edge of the table. Was he creating a false sense of intimacy? James had always been friendly, hadn’t he? Always warm, always ready to laugh, always putting people at ease. But that didn’t mean there was anything more to it. Regulus had been fooling himself. James wasn’t looking at him like that. He was just being James. A good friend. A gentleman. Maybe Regulus had been reading too much into it. It was all in his head.
But still... every time James smiled at him, or those fleeting moments when their eyes met, Regulus couldn’t help but wonder. What if there was more? What if James wasn’t as oblivious as Regulus wanted to believe? What if there was something hidden beneath those carefree gestures, something just waiting to be acknowledged?
Regulus ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. This wasn’t how he should be feeling. He didn’t belong here, not in this world, not in this life where James Potter could make him feel things that were impossible. A distant part of him wanted to shout at the unfairness of it all—the unfairness of feeling something for someone who would never feel the same.
...
Later that evening, Regulus sat at the Slytherin table, poking at his food with little interest. His mind wandered back to the library, to the way James had sat next to him, the way their conversation had flowed so easily. He should’ve been grateful for the help. But instead, he felt like he was being pulled in a thousand different directions. The thought of spending another day with James, of seeing him laugh and smile and flirt with Lily, filled him with a jealousy, and perhaps, an overwhelming sense of despair.
Regulus caught a glimpse of James, sitting with Lily and the other Gryffindors at the far end of the Great Hall. James’s voice rang out with laughter as he spoke to Lily, his hand resting casually on her shoulder. Regulus’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. There was no mistaking the way James looked at Lily—like she was the center of his world. Like she was everything.
Lily nudged him playfully, and James laughed, his attention shifting momentarily to her as she spoke, pulling him further into their conversation. Regulus couldn’t look away, the sight of them together so perfect, so comfortable. He hated it. Hated the way it made him feel so small, so insignificant. So painfully alone.
For a brief moment, James’s gaze flickered across the room, and Regulus’s heart skipped a beat. But as soon as their eyes met, Lily was nudging him again, pulling his attention back toward her, and James’s gaze shifted away. Regulus looked down, unable to keep watching, the ache in his chest threatening to swallow him whole.
Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t he just accept the fact that James wasn’t for him? That he never would be?
He clenched his fists under the table, breathing through the surge of emotion that swelled inside him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he had to feel like this, that the more he tried to keep his distance, the more his heart seemed to betray him. How could James look at him so kindly, offer to help him with an essay, spend time with him—and yet, still be so completely out of reach?
“Regulus?” Rosier’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Regulus quickly wiped his expression clean of any emotion before looking up.
“Hm?” he replied, his voice clipped.
“You alright?” Rosier asked, glancing between Regulus and the Gryffindor table. “You’ve been quiet tonight.”
Regulus forced a smile. “I’m fine,” he said, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want anyone to know just how tangled his emotions had become. He wasn’t sure he could even explain it himself. But it didn’t matter, because the truth was—he knew better than to hope. James Potter was never going to look at him the way he wanted. And that was something he would just have to learn to accept, no matter how much it hurt.
...
As the dinner continued, Regulus felt the heavy weight of the evening settle over him. He pushed his food aside, no longer hungry, and watched as James and Lily continued their banter across the room. Every laugh, every word, every touch felt like a sharp jab in his chest, but he forced himself to look away, to find something, anything, else to focus on. But it didn’t work.
Regulus couldn’t ignore the aching emptiness that filled him, the longing he tried so desperately to suppress. Because deep down, he knew. He knew that despite all the laughter, the shared moments, the fleeting touches and lingering glances—James would never be his. And that, more than anything, was what made it unbearable.