Chapter 8
The Saturday party is vastly different from the official welcome evening in every possible way. It’s attended mostly by the youngest guests. Elegant attire gives way to comfortable shirts and dresses, and the formality of the previous night melts into a sea of laughter and informal conversations. Music, louder than it probably should be, fills the entire garden, and instead of elaborate appetizers, the tables are covered with bowls of chips, fruit, and authentic Italian pizza.
Alcohol flows freely, but instead of delicate glasses of champagne and fine wine, guests hold colorful cocktails, beers, and bottles of something much stronger. James notices Sirius pouring tequila into small glasses, while Remus, despite his indulgent expression, helps him hand out lemon slices.
Regulus, as always, keeps to the sidelines, but his expression betrays that he’s more relaxed than usual. He’s standing with Pandora and Caroline, smirking slightly as Peter tries to impress his girlfriend by balancing a glass on the tip of his nose. Emmeline sits on the steps leading to the garden, laughing at something Mary said, while James spots Dorcas taking photos of everyone and everything, capturing the chaotic yet exceptionally warm atmosphere.
At one point, Pandora, with her disarming smile, tugs at Regulus’s sleeve, trying to convince him to join the fun. Though he initially seems resolute, James notices how reluctantly (but inevitably) he gives in, letting his friend drag him onto the makeshift dance floor, where a few people are already swaying to the pulsating music.
James isn’t entirely sure where to focus his attention. He sees Regulus in an entirely new light dancing with less restraint, more spontaneity, as if for once, he’s taken off his usual mask of cool detachment. It draws James in more than he’d like to admit.
He wonders how much alcohol Regulus has had to let himself indulge in such uncharacteristic behavior.
Marlene runs up to James, holding Meadowes’s camera, and yells that he has to join the fun. Laughing, James gives in, allowing himself to be pulled into the dance, but his gaze drifts back to Regulus every now and then, who seems increasingly at ease. The air is thick with the scent of a summer night, alcohol, and carefree joy.
After two songs, James suddenly finds himself face-to-face with Hestia. She smiles at him, and his heart beats in a different rhythm. He hasn’t decided yet if it’s because of her, the amount of alcohol he’s had, or simple nostalgia tied to the memories they share.
“Care to dance?” he asks her politely. For a moment, she looks as though she might refuse, but eventually, she takes his hand.
Their movements, however, feel more like a mechanical filling of space than genuine dancing. The memory of their shared past lingers in the air like unspoken words, and while they exchange a few polite remarks, they can’t seem to recapture the ease they once had. Soon, the song ends, and James feels relieved.
“Want to grab a drink?” she asks suddenly, sensing the awkwardness from a moment ago. James nods, deciding that conversation will go better than dancing.
They walk toward the bar, and James feels the tension ease with every step. Hestia orders drinks, while he leans against the counter, watching her. She looks calm, but James knows her well enough to notice the subtle signs of nervousness. When she hands him his glass, she smiles faintly, and he returns the gesture, hoping to finally break the invisible barrier that’s been between them for months.
They chat for a while about trivial things like mutual friends, Hestia’s work, wedding preparations. Finally, she tilts her head and smiles wistfully.
“You know, sometimes I wonder how things would’ve been if we…” she begins, but trails off, as if unsure whether she wants to finish the thought.
James furrows his brow, momentarily caught off guard, but before he can respond, Hestia steps closer. Her hand lightly touches his arm, and he feels the space between them shrink.
When she leans in, trying to kiss him, James freezes. He doesn’t pull back, but he doesn’t respond either. And then it hits him. He feels nothing.
No racing heartbeat, no familiar warmth he used to associate with her. Which is strange, because when he came here, he’d hoped to win her back.
Hestia quickly pulls away, her cheeks flushed. James feels a pang of guilt because the last thing he wants is for her to feel embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, looking anywhere but at him.
“No, you don’t need to…” James starts but trails off, unsure what else to say. He wants to comfort her, to tell her it doesn’t matter, but he can’t because he’s too caught up in his own surprise.
Hestia bites her lip, and then, as if with sudden determination, she looks him straight in the eyes. She doesn’t seem angry. James recognizes the disappointment in her expression.
“Is it because of him? Because of Regulus?” she asks.
James’s first instinct is to deny it, but something in her gaze makes him change his mind.
“Yes, because of him,” he says, remembering the act he and Regulus are supposed to keep up. Instead of staying silent, he answers with a smile that surprises him with its sincerity.
Hestia raises her eyebrows, then nods, as if everything suddenly makes sense.
“That’s why, when you talked about him yesterday…” she starts but stops again. James chuckles softly, leaning back against the bar.
“He makes me want to be a better version of myself. Not just around him but for him. He’s… different. Smart, composed, and yet he can be so annoyingly stubborn that sometimes I just want to strangle him. But…” he trails off, realizing how much of what he’s saying is the truth and not just a story they made up.
Hestia smiles faintly, this time without a hint of sadness.
“Sounds like you really love him.”
James shrugs, his expression softening.
“Yeah.”
They stand in silence for a moment until Hestia lightly touches his arm.
“I wish you happiness, James. I really do. I’m glad you found it.”
There’s a flicker of hurt, but James knows he’s not the right person to console her.
“Thanks, Hestia,” he replies sincerely. “I wish you the same.”
He realizes that, in truth, he wanted to see her because he needed closure. He couldn’t move on until he had spoken to her, asked why she blocked him, and cleared the air. His heart didn’t yearn for Hestia, but for the peace he couldn’t find with anyone else due to the turbulent way their relationship had ended.
Afterward, they part ways without the awkwardness that had surrounded them earlier. James watches her disappear into the crowd, and his thoughts begin to drift toward Regulus. He can’t help but smile faintly when he sees that Regulus is still dancing, this time with Marlene and Dorcas.
James doesn’t hesitate for long. Instead of standing off to the side and watching Regulus, he makes his way toward him. The crowd of guests no longer feels so dense, and he almost senses something invisible pushing him forward. When he reaches Regulus, Marlene and Dorcas quickly step back, exchanging knowing looks, but he ignores them.
Regulus turns toward him as if he could feel James’s presence. His gaze is surprisingly calm, but there’s a faint shadow of a smile at the corner of his lips, almost a challenge.
“Will you dance with me?” James asks, trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice betrays him with a slight tremor. Black doesn’t respond immediately. He studies James for a moment, as if weighing the situation, trying to figure out what he’s up to. Then, without a word, he extends his hand, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The music slows, shifting to something softer, and James feels the tension thickening in the air. He leads Regulus confidently, though his own heart is pounding wildly. Regulus lets himself be guided, but his gaze is intense, analyzing every subtle movement.
As the dance progresses, Regulus begins to let go. His hand, which had rested lightly on James’s shoulder, moves to the nape of his neck, and their movements take on a more personal quality. James senses that something is shifting but doesn’t fully grasp it until Regulus leans in closer, their eyes locking.
It lasts only a second, but it’s enough to make James’s heart race faster. He knows what’s about to happen. He opens his mouth to say something, but Regulus beats him to it. His hand pulls James closer, and their lips meet in a gesture that is both gentle and deliberate.
James freezes in shock. He hadn’t expected how natural it would feel. Regulus’s kiss is calm yet intense, stirring emotions in James far stronger than anything Hestia’s attempt had evoked. He convinces himself that it’s the thrill of their little charade that makes his heart race.
When they finally pull apart, James finds his breathing uneven. He looks at Regulus, who gazes back with a mixture of surprise and confidence, as though this was the most logical thing he could’ve done.
James wants to say something, but no words come to him. Regulus’s slight smile deepens, and he shrugs, as if to say, “So, what now, Potter?”
“You’re getting bolder with this whole pretending thing, aren’t you?” James tries to joke, but his voice is unsteady, betraying his uncertainty. Regulus’s smile widens, though his gaze remains sharp, almost piercing.
The younger man doesn’t reply immediately. He lets the silence stretch between them, and James feels his heart pounding so loudly he’s certain Regulus can hear it. He has to remind himself that Black’s sudden boldness must be the alcohol.
Finally, Regulus leans in slightly, closing the space between them. He doesn’t touch James, but his presence is overwhelming.
“Everyone’s watching us. I think I’m starting to enjoy it,” Regulus says. James tilts his head back, laughing softly. He hadn’t expected him to relish the attention in his current state. For James, it was never an issue, but Regulus always seemed more comfortable lingering on the sidelines.
“I liked the suspicious looks when they first saw us together,” James admits honestly, recalling how hilarious Sirius’s expression was at the airport. He can only appreciate it now, though, because back then, he’d been too terrified of his best friend’s reaction.
“Yeah,” Regulus agrees, but for a few seconds, something uncertain flashes across his face. James doesn’t understand it, but he wishes he could. Regulus is an enigma, and he still hasn’t decided if he loves that about him or finds it maddening.
As the song ends, Regulus pulls James toward the bar. A few people are already there, including Remus, laughing at Sirius, who’s trying to convince the bartender to let him make a drink, and Dorcas, showing Marlene photos on her camera. James can’t help but smile, sure that he’s played some small role in bringing the two of them together.
The chatter and laughter around the bar create a warm, lively atmosphere that slowly seeps into James as well. Regulus stops for a moment, glancing at Remus and Sirius, who look like they could spend the whole night teasing the bartender.
James watches him from the side, analyzing his composed posture and the faintest hint of a smile that lingers on his lips. There’s something mesmerizing about how Regulus can seem so detached and yet still command attention.
“Looks like everyone’s having a great time,” James says, more to himself than to Regulus. The younger man gives him a brief look, as if deciding whether James is trying to make conversation or just thinking out loud.
“Maybe you should stop overthinking everything and just enjoy yourself,” Regulus finally replies, his tone so casual that James can’t help but smile, even as he feels thoroughly seen through.
Instead of answering, James simply stares at him, trying to understand how Regulus can be both so distant and so close at the same time.
When they reach the bar, Regulus orders something for them, and James watches Remus for a moment. His friend now stands beside Sirius, his expression filled with quiet admiration. Seeing his two best friends so at ease and happy fills James with a mix of warmth and nostalgia.
“I see that Remus is having a good time,” James observes quietly, and Regulus follows his gaze.
“As always, when Sirius is making a fool of himself,” Regulus replies dryly, though there’s a faint trace of amusement in his voice.
James doesn’t take his eyes off Regulus, even when the boy turns to the bar to retrieve their order. Once again, it’s that moment where James can’t decide whether he wants to laugh at his nonchalance or admire it.
“Ready for another round?” Regulus asks, handing him a drink, his expression as calm as before.
“With you? Always,” James replies before he has time to think about what he’s just said.
He quickly slips into his role as Regulus sets his drink down and leans casually against the bar, flashing him that signature, slightly mocking smile.
“You know, Potter, if you want to admire me, you could try being more subtle,” Regulus murmurs, low enough that only James can hear, his tone carrying a hint of challenge. James raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. There has to be some truth behind the remark, as Regulus looks amused by the fact that James’s gaze has been following him practically all evening.
“Admire you? I’m just trying to figure out how you still look so good after so many drinks.”
“That’s talent, Potter. But since you’ve noticed, maybe you’ll earn a reward.” James, amused, sets his drink aside.
“A reward? I didn’t know we were giving out prizes for compliments tonight.” Regulus steps closer, close enough for James to catch his scent, tilting his head back with a façade of nonchalance.
“Well, I’m not sure if ‘prize’ is the word you were looking for, but if you’re good, maybe I’ll show you what I mean.”
Their banter draws a mix of laughter and knowing glances from their friends at the bar. Sirius throws them a dramatic, disgusted look, Dorcas shares a grin with Marlene, and Remus watches silently, as if he knows more than he’s letting on.
But before James can fire back another quip, Evan Rosier arrives with Barty Crouch Jr. in tow. Both are visibly tipsy, their steps betraying a certain unease. Their presence immediately shifts the atmosphere. Regulus stiffens, and the confidence he had mere moments ago evaporates like smoke.
“Regulus,” Evan begins, his tone polite but carrying a palpable tension. “Could we talk?”
Regulus straightens, his gaze turning icy. “Do we have anything to talk about?”
Barty, standing beside Evan, scoffs softly.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be. We can step aside and talk like normal people.” James frowns, but before he can interject, Regulus turns sharply to Barty, a flash of anger in his eyes.
“Don’t expect anything from me,” he snaps. His eyes narrow, and his shoulders tense. Regulus’s anger isn’t loud and chaotic like Sirius’s. It’s quiet, restrained to the point of transforming into cutting sarcasm and coldness.
“Relax, Regulus. We just want to talk,” Evan says cautiously, his tone more measured, which seems to calm Regulus slightly. The group watches the scene unfold, uncertain of what to do. The atmosphere is thick with tension and discomfort.
“Are you surprised I don’t want to talk to you?” Regulus raises an eyebrow, his tone icy. “I need time. Not now, Evan.”
Rosier opens his mouth as if to argue, but Regulus is already done listening. He turns to James, taking his hand. “Come on, James. We’re leaving.”
James allows himself to be led away, surprised but silent until they’re far from the bar.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
Regulus sighs, looking as if he wants to say something but ultimately just shakes his head.
“I just… didn’t feel like dealing with them right now. Thanks for not asking more.”
James nods, knowing now isn’t the time to push. When they reach the room, Regulus quickly shuts the door behind them, leaving behind the chaos Rosier and Crouch had brought. James watches him with quiet concern but lets the silence settle between them.
xxx
He walks out of the bathroom, towel-drying his damp hair. He’s sure Regulus is already asleep, curled up on his bed with that characteristic, slightly stern calmness on his face. It seems Regulus had more to drink than he did, though James wasn’t exactly holding back either.
The evening lingers in his thoughts, dancing, glances, words exchanged between them, and then the sudden shift when Evan and Barty appeared.
James feels the tension creeping back as he recalls the look on Regulus’s face. The coldness masked something deeper, something James wishes he could understand. It’s strange, but he feels this urge to protect him, even if he’s not sure from what exactly.
He drapes the towel over the back of a chair and glances toward the bed. To his surprise, Regulus isn’t asleep. He’s lying on his side, head slightly raised, and his gaze seems… softer than usual.
“I thought you’d already fallen asleep,” James says quietly, trying not to sound intrusive. Regulus doesn’t respond right away, and his silence feels heavier than usual. After a moment, he speaks in a calm but slightly weary voice.
“I can’t sleep.” James wonders if he should press further, but before he can say anything, Regulus sighs and turns his gaze away, as though debating whether to continue. “I’ve been having nightmares. Not always, but often enough that I sleep well one night and terribly the next.” James steps closer, his heart clenching at the thought of Regulus going through this alone.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asks, sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed. Regulus lifts his eyes to meet his, and there’s something in his gaze James can’t quite place, maybe gratitude, maybe something more.
“Could you… sleep here? Just for tonight. I don’t want to sleep alone,” he finally says, his voice quiet but clear enough to make James feel a warmth spreading through his chest.
He’s surprised, maybe even a little stunned, because this isn’t a typical request from Regulus. Usually, he’s too proud, too guarded, to ask anyone for help.
And yet, here he is, asking James.
“Of course,” James replies before he even has a chance to think.
He slides into the space next to Regulus, careful not to make too much noise. For a while, they lie there in silence, and James can feel their breathing gradually sync.
Closing his eyes, James reflects on how much his perception of Regulus has changed. He’s no longer just “Sirius’s brother,” the boy who always seemed irritated by his jokes. He’s someone with worries, nightmares, and yet, occasionally, he lets James see the hidden parts of himself.
And while tonight doesn’t promise peace, James feels a strange sense of relief. Not because Regulus is beside him, but because he can be there for him.
Just be there.
When Regulus remains silent for a while, James wonders if he’s finally drifted off. His breathing is irregular and soft but still too restless to signal sleep.
“You know, James…” Regulus begins in a whisper, his voice slightly hoarse. “Sometimes… sometimes I think it would have been better if I’d never tried to change. Then I wouldn’t feel like I’m lying to everyone close to me.” James furrows his brows at the words, turning his head toward him, but Regulus is staring at the ceiling, as though speaking more to himself. “People… they have their expectations. And when you try to be different, they’re still never satisfied. Maybe it’s all pointless,” he continues, his voice trembling slightly. “Maybe some things just can’t be fixed. Some people can’t be fixed.”
James feels his heart tighten.
“Reg,” he whispers, gently cupping Regulus’s jaw to turn his face toward him. A single tear trails down Regulus’s left cheek.
“Sometimes I feel more like myself with you than I do when I’m alone,” Regulus says so softly that James barely hears it, but the weight of his words lands heavily. “That scares me, James.”
James wants to respond, but before he can, Regulus slowly leans closer. His gaze is unfocused, his cheeks faintly flushed from the alcohol.
And then, before James can ask what he means, Regulus rises slightly and presses a soft, tentative kiss to his lips. It’s brief, almost hesitant, as if he himself isn’t sure if he should be doing it.
When he pulls back, his bottom lip trembles, and his eyes glisten with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry,” Regulus whispers, his voice breaking. Then he begins to cry, quiet, chaotic sobs as his hands cover his face, as though trying to hide from the world.
James sits up immediately, unsure what hurts more—the sight of Regulus in this state or the fact that he feels guilty for something James found almost… beautiful.
“Regulus… hey, it’s okay,” James says gently, trying to keep his voice steady, though he feels a strange ache inside. He carefully takes Regulus’s hands away from his face and uses his thumb to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “Really. It’s all right.”
Regulus looks at him, confused, tears still streaming down his face. James leans in a little closer, brushing his thumb along his cheek again, this time lightly holding his chin to ensure their gazes stay locked.
He looks so fragile, with tears glistening in his blue eyes, his hair tousled against the pillow, his lips slightly parted, his expression so innocent and delicate. James has to stop himself from leaning in to kiss away the tears still falling.
“You don’t have to apologize for what you feel. Not ever,” he adds softly, never breaking eye contact. Regulus sighs, his body slowly relaxing. James offers him a small, reassuring smile.
“Let’s just get some sleep, all right?” he says gently.
Regulus finally lays his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes. James slides back into his place, feeling the tension in the room gradually dissipate. They lie close together, and James listens as Regulus’s breathing slowly evens out.
As he drifts off, James feels an odd kind of relief, like caring for the younger boy is the most important thing in the world right now.
For the first time, he’s met someone who seems both strong and fragile at the same time. It’s a new feeling for him. Regulus stirs a tenderness in him he didn’t even know he had.
Black had asked him not to worry, but James can’t help the way his heart fills with something between affection and fear, so overwhelming he doesn’t even have a name for it. Maybe it’s care. Maybe it’s the need to protect.
Regulus feels like a delicate light in a place where James never expected to find it. And while he doesn’t fully understand what it means yet, he knows one thing.
He wants to keep it.