Regulus Black wasn’t one for rebellion. At least, not the kind his family would expect. He’d always followed the rules — or rather, the rules his family had set for him. He didn’t break curfew, didn’t defy orders, didn’t argue when they called him their perfect son. He was a soldier in the war, both figuratively and literally, a loyal follower of the Dark Lord, just like they had taught him to be.
But there was one thing he could never quite bring himself to ignore. One thing that gnawed at him, in the dead of night, when he was alone in his cold bedroom, staring at the dark ceiling, wide awake for hours.
James Potter.
James, who had a smile that could light up the whole room, who wasn’t afraid to stand up for what he believed in, who was every bit as reckless as Regulus was cautious. James, who had once called him “the most interesting Black” in a passing comment, as though it had been the most casual thing in the world. But Regulus had held onto that remark, kept it close, as though it was a secret treasure, something that made him feel less invisible than he usually did.
James Potter, who hated everything Regulus stood for, but who also made him feel things he had no words for. A strange mix of anger, frustration, and… something else. Something softer, buried beneath the hard, bitter layers he had spent years carefully constructing.
It was the little things that started it. The way James would look at him when they passed each other in the corridors, like there was more going on in that stare than either of them would ever dare to admit. The way James never looked away, never turned his back, even when Regulus glared. James wasn’t afraid of him, not in the way everyone else was. And that was a dangerous thing.
It was in the Gryffindor common room, during one of the rare times Regulus allowed himself to sneak into enemy territory. He hadn’t meant to be there. He was just trying to get away from his own thoughts, trying to find some peace amidst the chaos of his life. And somehow, he ended up in the one place he knew he shouldn’t be: standing in the corner of the Gryffindor tower, barely breathing, as James Potter and his friends laughed and joked nearby.
His heartbeat thudded in his ears as he stared at James, who was slouched on a couch, his dark hair falling into his eyes. For a moment, Regulus thought he might just turn and walk out — but then James looked up, his eyes catching Regulus’s with an intensity that made the air around them feel like it was vibrating with something too thick to name.
“What are you doing here, Black?” James’s voice was casual, but there was a glint in his eyes that made Regulus’s stomach twist. There was no hatred there, no anger — just a question, plain and simple. And for a moment, Regulus almost didn’t know how to respond.
“I—” Regulus cleared his throat, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
James didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stared at him, as though weighing him. The others had fallen silent, their eyes flickering between the two of them, and Regulus could feel his entire body stiffening, but he didn’t move.
“Then you can sit down,” James said finally, gesturing toward the empty space next to him on the couch. Regulus blinked. Was this some sort of trick? Was James Potter mocking him?
But James was still looking at him, waiting. And something about the way he said it — like it was the most natural thing in the world — made Regulus’s heart race in a way that felt utterly unfamiliar.
“I’m not going to bite,” James added, his voice softer this time, almost teasing, but with a warmth that cut straight through Regulus’s defenses.
Regulus hesitated for a long moment, but his feet moved before he could think better of it. He sat down on the couch, a little too far from James, but close enough that the proximity felt electric. He kept his eyes on his hands, unwilling to meet James’s gaze for fear of what might be in it. He didn’t know how to do this — how to sit here like a normal person, not a Black, not a Death Eater. Just a person.
“You’re not what they say you are, you know,” James said, breaking the silence. His voice was quieter now, and there was something in it that sounded almost… kind. Regulus looked up sharply, meeting his gaze.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice tight.
James shrugged, leaning back in the couch with a lazy grin. “You’re not just some mindless follower. I’ve seen the way you look at things. The way you… question things. It’s obvious, even if you try to hide it.” He looked at Regulus for a beat, and his smile softened. “I’m not blind, Reg.”
Regulus stiffened, but he didn’t look away. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know enough,” James said, his eyes glinting with a strange mixture of amusement and sincerity. “You’re not as lost as you pretend to be.”
Regulus felt a knot in his chest tighten at the words, something raw and unfamiliar rising to the surface. “And what would you know about it?” he asked, his voice sharp.
James didn’t flinch. “I know what it’s like to feel trapped. To be surrounded by people who don’t see you for who you really are. But you can’t hide forever, Reg.” James’s voice dropped to a whisper, and he leaned in closer. “You have a choice.”
For a long moment, Regulus couldn’t speak. The air between them was thick with something unsaid, something that felt like the possibility of breaking free. But Regulus couldn’t bring himself to cross that line, not yet. Not when his entire life had been built on the idea that there were no choices, just orders to follow.
“I’m not like you,” Regulus said finally, though his words felt empty.
James’s grin softened. “Maybe not. But you don’t have to be. You just have to be you. Whatever that is.”
Regulus swallowed hard, feeling something shift deep inside him. Something fragile, like the cracking of ice, but there. Something that made him feel lighter than he had in years, even if only for a moment.
And in that quiet, stolen moment between them, Regulus Black didn’t feel like the perfect son, the obedient servant, or the shadow of his family. He just felt… human. Like maybe, just maybe, he could choose who he was for the first time in his life.
End