Forbidden.
The corridors of Hogwarts echoed with the usual sounds: students chatting, the faint clink of shoes against stone, the rustling of robes. It was the beginning of Regulus Black's sixth year, and yet, as he stood there in the entrance hall, the weight of the past summer hung heavy on his chest. Walburga’s screams still rang in his ears, her words searing into his skin like the burn of a Cruciatus curse. "Where is he?" Her rage had been palpable, her wrath a crushing force, and Sirius had become a casualty of it all.
But Regulus had never thought it would be like this. He had wanted—no, needed—Sirius to stay. To stand by him, to face their parents together. But now, as the boat had glided across the Black Lake weeks ago, Sirius had disappeared into the night, and Regulus was left behind to pick up the pieces of a shattered family.
He had tried to move past it, to convince himself it didn’t matter. After all, it wasn’t like Sirius had ever truly cared for him, not like that. It was better this way, wasn’t it?
But Regulus couldn’t help it. Every moment in the castle, every glance at the Great Hall, he kept seeing flashes of him. Of James.
The boy who had never been anything but a thorn in Regulus’ side, yet now haunted his thoughts more than he ever imagined possible. He couldn’t remember when it had begun—his fascination with James Potter. It felt like the moment Sirius had mentioned him in one of those late-night confessions, and Regulus had listened, curious, attentive. The way Sirius spoke about James had been filled with awe, admiration even. But there had been something else, too—something that prickled the back of Regulus’ mind.
It was that flicker of jealousy.
He shouldn’t feel it. He knew better. He was a Black, bound by blood and duty, not some foolish Gryffindor. But the thought of James Potter’s name curled in his chest like a fire he couldn't put out, making his skin flush uncomfortably every time it was mentioned.
It wasn’t just the fact that James was everything Regulus wasn’t—open, confident, and loved. It was something deeper, something more terrifying that Regulus couldn’t quite put into words, a feeling that gnawed at him quietly in the corner of his mind.
But Remus Lupin was the first to notice.
It started on the train ride back to school, as it always did. Regulus sat near the window, watching the landscape blur by in a sea of green, trying to pretend that he was unaffected by everything that had happened. He tried to focus on the hum of the train, the chatter of students around him, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the Black Manor. And to Sirius. And to James.
Regulus wasn't surprised when a voice spoke from behind him.
"You're quiet today," Remus Lupin said, slipping into the seat across from him.
Regulus tensed slightly. He didn’t know if he could hide his feelings from someone who seemed to see right through people. Lupin was no fool, after all. He had a way of reading people that was almost uncanny.
"I’m just tired," Regulus replied, his voice colder than he intended. He turned his gaze out the window, but the words were already out there between them.
Remus leaned forward, his expression softening with a mix of curiosity and concern. "You know," he began, carefully choosing his words, "you don’t have to pretend, you know."
Regulus’ heart skipped a beat, the unexpected warmth in Remus' tone unsettling him. Remus was never the one to pry, at least not directly. So why now?
"Who said I’m pretending?" Regulus snapped, more out of instinct than anything else. He didn’t want to talk about it—any of it. But something about Remus made him feel... exposed. As if the walls he’d carefully constructed around himself were useless against the quiet, steady gaze of the boy in front of him.
Remus didn’t flinch at Regulus’ outburst. Instead, he just tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in that way that Regulus always found unnervingly perceptive.
"I know what it's like," Remus said softly, his voice laced with understanding. "To feel like there’s something you’re not allowed to have. Something that’s forbidden."
Regulus blinked, startled by the unexpected depth of the words. His stomach twisted, but before he could stop himself, he found himself asking, almost out of desperation, "What do you mean?"
Remus paused for a moment, his lips pressing together as if he were choosing his next words carefully. "You don’t have to hide, Regulus. Not from me, anyway."
Regulus’ eyes narrowed, suspicion crawling through him. “I’m not hiding anything.”
Remus gave him a soft, knowing smile. “You’ve always been good at hiding things. You think people don’t notice, but we all see it. The way you look at him.”
Regulus’ breath caught in his throat, his mind racing, but he couldn’t look away. Remus was so calm, so certain, and in that moment, Regulus felt as though the floor had fallen out from under him. How could Remus know? How could he possibly have noticed?
“You…” Regulus trailed off, unsure how to respond. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Remus didn’t press the issue, but his eyes didn’t leave Regulus. He only said, in a voice that almost seemed to be more of an observation than a question, “You’re not the only one who feels out of place, you know. And you’re not the only one who’s ever felt like they’re carrying something that they can’t talk about.”
Regulus' throat went dry. Was he talking about James? Or was he talking about... himself? Was Remus implying something about his own feelings?
Before Regulus could ask, the train whistle blew, signaling their arrival at Hogwarts. Remus stood up, giving Regulus a final, almost knowing look before heading for the door.
But before he stepped out, he paused and turned back with a soft, almost too gentle smile. “You’re not alone, Regulus. Not really.”
That night, as Regulus lay in his four-poster bed, the weight of the conversation with Remus pressed down on him like an anchor, dragging his thoughts under the surface.
Why had Remus said that? What did he mean by it?
The words kept echoing in his mind as he closed his eyes, trying to block out the images that haunted him. He couldn’t stop thinking about James—James and his easy smile, his laugh, the way his eyes twinkled when he was with his friends. Regulus had watched him for years, always from the sidelines. But now, with Sirius gone, the ache in his chest had only grown stronger, the desire to understand James Potter, to be near him, to be someone worthy of his attention, gnawing at him.
But Remus had been right, hadn’t he? It was forbidden.
And yet, despite all the warnings and the years of family doctrine etched into his mind, Regulus couldn’t help but wonder: Was it really so wrong to want something for himself?
The very idea of wanting James was both thrilling and terrifying. But one thing was certain: whatever this was, whatever he was feeling, he couldn’t hide from it forever.
And somewhere deep inside, Regulus Black feared that the truth—whatever it was—might just change everything.