THE ENGAGEMENT
The faint scratching of a quill against parchment filled the quiet room. Regulus sat cross-legged on his bed, his journal resting on his knees, a small lamp illuminating the page. The flickering light cast long shadows across the walls of his bedroom in Grimmauld Place, giving the space a haunted, almost melancholic feel. His handwriting, neat but urgent, reflected his turbulent thoughts as he tried to untangle the chaos inside his mind.
The sudden crack of Apparition startled him so badly that he dropped his quill. His heart raced as he whipped around to see who had entered, wand already in hand.
"James?" Regulus gasped, his voice sharp with shock. "What are you doing here?"
James Potter stood in the middle of his bedroom, looking somewhat out of place in his casual robes, his hair as messy as ever. His hazel eyes, warm and steady, met Regulus's wide, alarmed gaze.
"I missed you," James admitted, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. "I wanted to see you."
Regulus stared at him, still clutching his wand. "We saw each other not even two days ago at Sirius and Remus’s apartment," he said, his tone disbelieving. "And how did you even get in here?"
James shrugged, his grin widening as he spread his hands innocently. "I didn’t think I could aparate at Grimmauld Place. But I guess wanting to see you badly enough makes impossible things possible."
Regulus couldn’t help it, a soft laugh escaped him despite his initial irritation. He shook his head, standing up from the bed. "You’re ridiculous, Potter."
" I know, but you're worth it." James teased, stepping closer.
Regulus's breath hitched slightly as James reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. The scent of James, fresh air, parchment, and something uniquely him, washed over Regulus, grounding him. Before he could say anything, James tilted his head down and kissed him, his lips warm and insistent.
Regulus melted into the kiss, his hands clutching at James’s robes. It was heady, consuming, and for a moment, all his doubts seemed to evaporate. They stumbled backward onto the bed, lips never breaking contact. James’s hands slid under Regulus’s sweater touching his torso, fingers tracing lines on the boy's skin, sending shivers through him.
But just as James’s hands began to tug at the hem of Regulus' trousers he froze.
"Stop," he said, his voice breaking the moment like a shard of ice.
James pulled back immediately, concern flashing across his face. "What’s wrong?"
Regulus pushed himself upright, his gaze falling to the floor. "I... I don’t know if I can believe it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
James furrowed his brows. "Believe what?"
Regulus swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet James’s eyes, even as his chest tightened. "This. Us. You," he admitted. "What if this isn’t real? What if you only like me because of that... other Regulus? The one you knew? What if this is just some mistake, some weird dream I don’t know how to wake up from?"
James’s expression softened, his hand reaching out to cup Regulus’s cheek. "Reg, we talked about it before, I’m here," he said simply, his tone steady, almost certain. "This is real. You are real. And I’m not going anywhere."
Regulus shook his head, pulling away slightly. "But you... you barely know me. Not this version of me," he said, his voice cracking. "And I don’t know you. Not really."
"That’s not true," James said firmly. "I do know you. I know how brave you are. How stubborn you can be when you care about something, or someone. I know how you hate raisins but will eat chocolate-covered ones. I know how you get that furrow in your brow when you’re concentrating too hard, and how your eyes light up when you talk about the things you’re passionate about."
Regulus blinked at him, stunned.
James leaned closer, his eyes never leaving Regulus’s. "And I know that I love you. I love you, Regulus. Not some other version of you. Not the person you think I loved before. You. Standing here in front of me now."
Regulus’s throat tightened, and he didn’t know what to say.
James gave him a moment to process, then added quietly, "I went to Lily."
Regulus stiffened slightly. "What?"
"I went to her a week ago," James explained, his voice calm but serious. "I told her everything. I told her she’s incredible, because she is. She’s special, and she deserves someone who can love her the way she deserves. But I can’t be that for her. Because my heart isn’t with her. It’s with you."
Regulus’s breath hitched, his chest tightening painfully.
"It wasn’t easy," James continued, his tone softening. "She’s amazing, and she deserves the world. But it wouldn’t be fair to her, or to me, to pretend. Because I want to be that for you, Regulus. And only you."
Regulus didn’t speak for a long moment, his thoughts tangled in a thousand directions. But there was something undeniable about James’s words, something steady and grounding that he couldn’t ignore.
Finally, he whispered, "You’re sure?"
James smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from Regulus’s face. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."
Regulus hesitated, then leaned forward, closing the gap between them with a kiss. This time, it wasn’t desperate or frenzied, it was slow, tender, and filled with all the things they couldn’t quite put into words.
When they pulled apart, James rested his forehead against Regulus’s, his smile soft and unguarded.
"You’re stuck with me now, you know," he murmured.
Regulus let out a shaky laugh, his own lips curving into a small smile. "I think I can live with that."
They gazed at each other in silence, the space between them charged with emotions. James’s hand moved slowly, tracing the line of Regulus’s jaw, his thumb brushing softly against the delicate skin of his cheek. Regulus leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed as if savoring the moment.
Mirroring James’s gesture, Regulus lifted his hand, his fingers gently exploring the contours of James’s face. His touch was tentative at first, but it grew bolder as it traveled down to his neck, finally coming to rest at the back of James’s head. His fingers wove through James’s hair, holding him there as if afraid to let go.
Their eyes locked, and in that fleeting moment, the world beyond the walls of the room seemed to vanish. Without hesitation, James leaned forward, his lips brushing against Regulus’s in a kiss that was tentative at first, like a quiet question waiting to be answered. Regulus responded almost instantly, a soft, breathless moan escaping him as he melted into the touch.
Their mouths moved together in a rhythm that was both tender and hungry, a delicate yet insistent exploration of each other. The kiss deepened, growing more fervent, charged with the energy of years of suppressed desire. James’s hand moved with purpose, sliding from Regulus’s shoulder to his chest, where he felt the rapid, unsteady thrum of his heartbeat.
Regulus mirrored the gesture, his hand slipping beneath James’s clothing, fingertips skimming over warm skin and tracing the contours of his back. The contact sent a jolt through both of them, their breaths quickening as the kiss grew increasingly urgent, their emotions spilling over into every touch.
Their bodies shifted, pressing closer together, as their kisses grew deeper, more passionate. James pulled Regulus's thigh and Regulus's hand traveled further down, his fingers tracing the line of James' spine, sending shivers down his back.
James broke the kiss, panting softly, his eyes searching Regulus's. "Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice thick with need.
Regulus nodded, his eyes shining with want. "More than anything," he replied, his voice equally hushed.
...
It was their first time, a moment of shared vulnerability and intimacy that would bind them together in a way nothing else could. As they lay there, entwined in the aftermath, they knew that nothing would ever be the same again. The world outside could wait; tonight was theirs, a secret shared between them alone.
They kissed again, this time gently, sweetly, before falling into a contented silence, their hearts slowly returning to their normal rhythm. In that moment, they had everything they needed. They were together, and that was all that mattered.
James quickly fell into the habit of apparating into Regulus' bedroom nearly every night. It had become their routine, a secret world where they could be themselves without judgment or fear. Sometimes their nights were filled with passion, but more often, they were quiet and intimate, just the comfort of being close to each other.
One evening, as Regulus rested his head on James' shoulder, the room illuminated only by the dim light of his bedside lamp, he murmured softly, "You know, I never thought I'd get used to you barging into my room unannounced."
James chuckled, his arms tightening around Regulus. "Barging? I call it making an entrance. Besides, you don’t seem to mind."
Regulus tilted his head to glance up at him, a small smile playing on his lips. "I didn’t say I minded, Potter. Just that I never thought I’d get used to it."
James leaned down, brushing a kiss against his temple. "You’re stuck with me now. Hope you’ve made peace with that."
Regulus snorted, his hand idly tracing patterns on James’ chest. "Bold of you to assume I’m not secretly plotting to change the wards so you can’t sneak in."
James laughed, tipping Regulus’ chin up to meet his gaze. "If you really wanted me gone, you’d have done it by now. Admit it, Reg, you like having me here."
Regulus rolled his eyes, though a faint blush crept up his cheeks. "Maybe. A little."
James grinned. "A little? Come on, you’re mad about me."
Regulus sighed dramatically, but his expression softened. "Fine, I like having you here. Happy?"
"Ecstatic," James replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.
Some nights were more lighthearted.
"You know," James teased as Regulus laid his head on his lap, "for someone who prides himself on being aloof, you’re surprisingly clingy."
Regulus arched an eyebrow, though he didn’t move from his spot. "And yet, you keep coming back. Who’s the clingy one now?"
"Touché," James said with a laugh, running his fingers through Regulus’ hair.
Moments like these became their lifeline, a stolen slice of happiness in a world that didn’t understand them. And every night, as they reluctantly parted ways, James would promise, "I’ll see you tomorrow."
And Regulus would always answer, "I’ll be waiting."
...
The night was thick with the weight of goodbyes. It was the last evening of summer, the final hours before Regulus would return to Hogwarts for his seventh and final year. Between James' rigorous Auror training and Regulus' school days, they both knew the months ahead would be long and barren of stolen moments like this. They wouldn’t see each other again until Christmas break, a thought that made their time together feel achingly finite.
Perhaps that was why they clung to each other so desperately now, lips meeting with an intensity that bordered on frantic, hands exploring with a hunger fueled by the knowledge that this was their last chance.
Regulus was lost in the moment, his body pressed against James’ as they lay tangled on his bed. Their shirts had been tossed to the floor, leaving only the heat of their skin and the intoxicating closeness between them. James' lips trailed down the side of Regulus' neck, his hands roaming over his back with an urgency that sent shivers down Regulus’ spine. The air in the room was thick, electric, and neither of them noticed the faint creak of footsteps approaching the door.
The door swung open with a loud bang and a furious voice shattered the intimacy of the moment.
"Regulus Arcturus Black!"
Regulus froze, his body tensing under James. He turned his head sharply, his heart plummeting as he saw his mother, Walburga, standing in the doorway. Her eyes blazed with fury, and her mouth was twisted in a snarl of pure outrage.
His face burned with shame as he scrambled off James, grabbing for his shirt on the floor. "Mother—"
"Don't you dare speak to me!" she snapped, her voice echoing off the walls. Her gaze flicked to James, filled with disgust, before returning to her youngest son. "How dare you defile this house with this, this filth!"
James, sitting up but still shirtless, looked between Regulus and Walburga, his expression hardening. "I think you need to calm down," he said, his voice steady but firm.
Walburga's attention snapped to James, her glare like daggers. "You think you have any right to speak to me, Potter?" she spat. "You’ve already tainted one of my sons. Haven’t you done enough?"
"Mother, stop!" Regulus said, his voice cracking. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head, trying to cover himself, though the embarrassment burned hotter than any flame.
Walburga ignored him, her chest heaving with fury. "Get dressed. Now. Both of you. And get to the sitting room. Immediately."
Regulus exchanged a panicked glance with James, who nodded slightly, his face set in determination. Without another word, they both hastily dressed and followed Walburga down the hall, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.
...
In the sitting room, the oppressive air only grew heavier. Orion Black sat slouched in an armchair, his face blank but his eyes sharp as they flicked between his son and his wife. He had clearly been woken up and seemed more annoyed than angry. Walburga, on the other hand, was pacing furiously, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
Regulus and James stood side by side, their shirts wrinkled and their hair disheveled, but still composed enough to face the storm.
"This... this abomination," Walburga started, her voice trembling with anger, "will not be tolerated in this house."
Orion raised a hand, his tone lazy but cutting. "Walburga, sit down. Let’s not wake the entire neighborhood with your theatrics."
Walburga shot him a glare but reluctantly took a seat, her fiery gaze never leaving Regulus.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" she demanded, her voice like ice.
Regulus shifted uncomfortably, his hands clenched at his sides. He glanced at James, whose expression was steady, silently urging him to speak.
Regulus swallowed hard, his mind racing, but he couldn’t find the words. The weight of his parents’ stares and the shame of being caught in such a vulnerable moment rendered him mute.
Walburga sneered, her lips curling. "Pathetic. Just like your brother."
Walburga's furious glare burned into James as she demanded, "Well? What do you have to say for yourself, Potter? Sneaking into my home like a thief in the night, corrupting my son?" Her voice was sharp and venomous, each word dripping with disdain.
James opened his mouth to respond, his face pale but determined, but before he could get a word out, Walburga raised a hand, silencing him. "Save it," she snapped, turning her anger back to Regulus. "You should be grateful I walked in when I did. Imagine the disgrace if I hadn’t—" she paused, her lip curling in disgust, "—interrupted you before you were deflowered like some common wench."
Regulus, his face burning with embarrassment, muttered under his breath, "Too late for that."
For a moment, there was stunned silence in the room. Walburga’s eyes widened in horror as the meaning of Regulus’s words sunk in. "What did you just say?" she hissed, her voice rising an octave.
Regulus squared his shoulders, though his cheeks remained flushed. He refused to look away from her. "I said my flower’s already been picked," he repeated, his voice firmer this time. "And it’s none of your concern."
Walburga’s shriek of outrage echoed through the room. "You insolent boy!" she spat, her fury now reaching new heights. Her gaze snapped back to James. "How did you even get here?"
James, standing beside Regulus with an air of defiance despite the absurdity of the situation, answered calmly, "I Apparated into his room."
Walburga looked as though she might faint from the sheer indignity of it. "Into my house?! Into my son’s bedroom?!" She rounded back on Regulus, her face livid. "You were supposed to be a good son. A Black son! You are meant to marry a pure-blood girl. Tell me, which respectable pure-blood witch would even look at you after knowing you’ve...defiled yourself with a boy?"
Regulus, no longer able to keep his composure, took a step forward, his voice cold and unwavering. "I’ve been intimate with James multiple times," he said, his chin held high. "And I’m not planning on stopping anytime soon."
The room fell into an icy silence, save for the ticking of an old clock on the mantel. Walburga’s face twisted in disbelief, her fury momentarily giving way to shock. Orion, still sitting quietly with a weary expression, finally looked up.
Walburga’s face turned a violent shade of red as Regulus’s defiant words hung in the air. "Enough!" she bellowed, her voice trembling with rage. "This conversation does not leave this house. Do you understand me?" Her eyes darted between Regulus and James, sharp and unyielding. "I will not have a son acting like some common whore. One Sirius Black was more than enough disgrace for this family, and I’ll be damned if you follow in his footsteps."
She stepped closer to Regulus, her gaze like a dagger. "Before Christmas break is over, you will be engaged to a proper pure-blood girl. I don’t care who it is, but I will not tolerate this... this filthness in my house."
Her venomous rant continued with sharp insults aimed at both boys until finally, with an exasperated huff, she stormed toward the staircase. "I’m going to my room," she declared. "And don’t even think about trying to defy me, Regulus. You won’t win." She stomped up the stairs, the sound of her bedroom door slamming echoing throughout the house.
Regulus stood frozen, his chest heaving with restrained emotion. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as he tried to keep his composure. Orion, who had been silent up to this point, sighed heavily and rubbed his temples, muttering, "I’m getting too old for this."
Regulus swallowed hard, his throat tight as his thoughts spiraled. In the reality he had left behind, he knew his mother would likely have cast the Killing Curse at him for this. And yet, somehow, this felt worse. Her anger wasn’t directed at him with the full force of her wrath, and he almost wished it were. Because he couldn’t imagine life without James, not anymore. He didn’t understand how he had managed to survive all those years in his previous life without him.
Orion finally stood, his movements slow and deliberate. Regulus looked up at his father with tear-filled eyes, searching for something, reassurance, perhaps, or even just acknowledgment.
Orion met his gaze briefly before turning to James with a bemused expression. "I can’t, for the life of me, understand how a boy old enough to perform magic didn’t think to take two seconds to cast a silencing charm," he said dryly. "Or something, for Merlin’s sake."
Regulus, startled by the calm tone, stammered, "Are you, are you angry?"
Orion sighed again, rubbing his temple. "Livid," he admitted. "I was having a perfectly pleasant dream, and now here I am, dragged into this chaos by your mother’s shouting." He paused, glancing between the two boys. "And I can already feel a migraine coming on. All I ever wanted was a normal, uneventful life, with a normal wife, and at least one son who would give me a grandchild. A girl," he added pointedly. "Because I can’t stand boys being boys anymore. Is that too much to ask?"
He looked back at Regulus, his expression softening when he saw how devastated his son looked. "Why are you crying?"
Regulus’s voice was barely a whisper. "I’m not supposed to..."
"Your mother is angry," Orion interrupted gently, "and she’ll calm down. I’ll make sure of it." He straightened his shoulders, glancing meaningfully between James and Regulus. "But you two need to be on your best behavior until then."
Orion turned to James, his tone firm but not unkind. "No more Apparating into Regulus’s room, Potter. If you want to visit, use the front door like a civilized person."
Then, shifting his focus to Regulus, he added, "And you. If you want me to keep your mother from turning the house upside down, you’ll need to get extraordinary grades this year. Do you hear me?"
Regulus nodded, wiping at his eyes, though the tears still lingered. Orion sighed once more, muttering something under his breath about the trials of fatherhood, before making his way out of the room, leaving the two boys alone.
Regulus hesitated, his voice trembling as he asked, "What about the engagement? Is she serious about arranging it before Christmas break?"
Orion sighed, shaking his head. "Your mother’s temper gets the best of her sometimes. It's all heat-of-the-moment nonsense," he assured. "She’s upset because she’s realized neither of her sons is going to do things the proper Black way. Sirius has already thrown protocol out the window by shacking up with that Lupin boy, and now she’s seeing you’re no different."
Regulus frowned, guilt mixing with lingering frustration. "But—"
"Enough," Orion interrupted gently but firmly, raising a hand. "I’ll speak to her in the morning. She’ll calm down. She always does, eventually. Just focus on keeping yourself out of trouble for now. That means exceptional grades, perfect behavior, and no sneaking around with Potter. Understand?"
Regulus nodded reluctantly, though his chest still felt tight with worry.
Orion gave him a pointed look. "Go back to bed, Regulus. Tomorrow’s a big day, and I don’t want you starting your last year at Hogwarts looking like you’ve been crying all night."
Regulus bit his lip but nodded, casting one last glance at James before retreating up the stairs to his room.
Once Regulus was out of earshot, Orion turned to James. His tone remained measured, though his dark eyes gleamed with authority. "Now, Mr. Potter, I would like to have a word with you."
James straightened, instinctively brushing his hands down his shirt as if preparing for a duel. "Of course, Mr. Black."
Orion gestured toward the chair Regulus had vacated. "Sit."
James obeyed, suddenly feeling like he was back in Professor McGonagall’s office after a particularly reckless Quidditch stunt. Orion sat across from him, studying him with the air of a man accustomed to commanding a room.
"I won’t mince words," Orion began. "I know my wife can be...difficult. But I understand more than she does. About you. About Regulus. And while I don’t approve of your methods..." he gestured vaguely, likely referencing James' reckless apparating. "I am not blind to the fact that my son has feelings for you. Deep ones, at that."
James swallowed hard, unsure where this was going. "I love him, sir," he said earnestly. "I really do.". He took a deep breath before speaking again, his voice steady but full of conviction. "I want to marry him, sir," he said, his words clear and sincere. "I love Regulus more than anything. I want to build a life with him. I don’t just want to be with him for now. I want forever."
Orion raised an eyebrow. "You love him now. But love is complicated, Mr. Potter. Especially when it involves someone like Regulus, a boy with Walburga as a mother. Are you prepared for what that means? For what it might cost?"
James didn’t hesitate. "I’d do anything for him."
Orion studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned back, rubbing his temples as if the weight of the situation had finally settled on his shoulders. "Then all I ask is this: take care of him. Protect him. And for Merlin’s sake, stop apparating into this house. Use the front door and announce yourself before coming in."
James cracked a small, nervous smile. "Yes, sir. Of course."
Orion leaned back in his chair, fixing James with a calculating gaze that was both sharp and weary. The silence stretched for a moment before he spoke, his voice low but deliberate.
"I want you to understand something, Mr. Potter," he began, his tone carrying a weight that made James sit up straighter. "You heard what I told Regulus earlier, that this engagement talk is just the heat of the moment. And I meant it, in part. But I also know my wife very well. She will have an engagement. Whether it’s you or some pureblood girl, Walburga will see it done. So I expect it to be you."
James blinked, startled. "Sir, I—"
"You’ve made your intentions clear, haven’t you?" Orion interrupted, his eyes narrowing. "You love my son. You’ve already been... intimate with him. And while I don’t care to know the details, the point remains the same: you’ve crossed a threshold. If you truly love Regulus, you’ll make this official and ensure he isn’t dragged into some farcical match of my wife’s design."
James mind racing was racing. "An engagement," he murmured.
"Yes, an engagement," Orion repeated, his voice firm. "Walburga’s fury will only cool if she sees this relationship treated with respect and tradition. That means a proper proposal, with a family heirloom something significant. Something worthy of a Black. If you don’t act quickly, she’ll take matters into her own hands, and trust me, you don’t want that."
James nodded slowly, his resolve hardening. "I’ll do it right," he said firmly. "I’ll take care of it."
Orion studied him for a long moment before giving a curt nod. "Good. Then see to it. And remember, Mr. Potter, this isn’t just about Regulus. It’s about preserving peace in this household, such as it is."
He sighed, rubbing his temples as if the weight of the conversation was pressing down on him. "Now go home. Regulus will need you strong and focused if you’re serious about building a life together. Don’t give Walburga any more ammunition than she already has."
James stood, his heart pounding but his determination clear. "Thank you, sir," he said earnestly.
Orion waved a hand dismissively, already looking as though he’d had enough for one night. "Just don’t make me regret this, Mr. Potter."
With a quiet crack, James disapparated, leaving Orion alone in the dimly lit room. The older man sat back with a sigh, muttering under his breath, "And to think, all I ever wanted was a quiet life."