Regulus and Remus have been doing… whatever it is they are doing for almost 4 months now.
When Remus started seventh year and was informed by Professor McGonagall that he would be doing all of his prefect rounds with Sirius’ Slytherin little brother, he didn’t know what to think. He was by no means thrilled and given what he’d heard about the boy and his views from Sirius, he wasn’t looking forward to spending every other evening with the bloke, but he’s not one to complain - he’s dealt with turning into a raging monster every month since he was five, he can survive a sarky, Black brother for a year - he’s already had practice with Sirius for six.
What Remus didn’t anticipate was the way his wolf stood to attention the moment he was finally alone with Regulus.
Taking a deep inhale, he was surprised to smell the tantalising scent of rain during a thunderstorm, old parchment and something sweet - sugar quills, maybe? Along with his natural scent, Remus could tell the boy, despite Sirius’ claims, didn’t hate him, but rather was warily curious.
Their first patrol was a quiet one, the two of them doing their round and parting ways with a quiet, “good night, Black,” from Remus and a nod of acknowledgment in return.
After a few nights of this and smelling no hostility in the boy, Remus decided to strike up conversation. It started innocently enough; “How’s your lessons been first week back?” “Fine, but Slughorn already has us brewing amortentia…” “Ah, we did that last year too, it was a right bitch.” An indelicate snort followed Remus’ oh so eloquent statement, along with a flood of amused chemo-signals, making Remus’ wolf preen in delight.
“Baby Black has a sense of humour, who knew,“ he quipped, a sharp smile cutting into his face.
“Mmm, anyone with half a brain I imagine,” was the swift reply, causing Remus to let out his own snort.
Before he knew it, they were bantering back and forth as if they had been long term friends, and he supposes that’s what they are now - friends, in a way…
… It’s just a shame Remus’ wolf doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo.
•••
“Evening, baby Black.”
“For how much longer are you going to keep using that incessantly annoying nickname?”
“For as long as it continues to annoy you, I suppose,” Remus shrugs, a lazy grin on his face that grows sharper as the younger boy sends him a half-hearted glare through piercing, glacial eyes.
Falling into step with the other as he brushes past him, Remus knocks his shoulder into the other’s gently. “How’s things been? You missed our last round together, not trying to get rid of me, are you Black?” He jokes, having found that prying is the quickest way to get Regulus to close up like a locket. He’d been genuinely worried when he showed up for their Prefect rounds two nights ago, only to find Henry Abbott in his place - Regulus has never missed any of his Prefect duties before.
“Ugh,” the other groans, making Remus smile. It’s nice to see him lose the upstanding, pureblood persona he dons around the rest of the school. “Don’t flatter yourself, I had to take care of the after-effects of some stupid hex,” he grumbles.
Wolf standing to attention, Remus has to clamp his mouth shut in order not to release an unbidden growl at the idea of Regulus getting hurt. “Someone hexed you?” He grits out, eyes scanning the other for any lingering signs of pain of discomfort.
Eyebrows raising in surprise at his behaviour, Regulus scoffs and shoves him lightly. “Not me, you dunce. As if I would let myself get hexed. No, it was Barty, the idiot,” he says with a fond shake of his head and a small smile.
“Oh, well… is he alright?” Remus asks awkwardly, scratching at his most recent scar - one that curls around from under his ear, along the underside of his jaw.
“Yeah, yeah,” Regulus waves a hand dismissively. “Bloody bugger’s fine, I made sure of that - not that he didn’t spend the whole time whining like he was dying, of course.”
“Can’t say I know the bloke very well, but from what you’ve told me that sounds pretty normal for him,” Remus shrugs, tilting his head towards the other.
A light chuckle follows, with a slight dip of Regulus’ chin into an elegant nod of agreement. “Yes. Barty is very fond of his dramatics,” he sighs.
“And other than Barty’s unfortunate hexing… your week’s been okay so far?” He prompts, trying for casual, but from the way the other’s eyes narrow towards him, he misses the mark.
“What do you know?” Regulus asks warily, making Remus raise his eyebrows in surprise.
“Erm… nothing? Was just, genuinely asking?” He says in confusion. What’s happened…?
“Oh, sorry.” The Black brother shrugs, somehow making the move look delicate and dainty, drawing Remus’ eyes to his slender, pale neck and the sharp jut of his jaw. “I’ve just… had some trouble this week with this whole Yule Ball thing,” he mutters, frowning down the corridor.
“Trouble? What kind? Anything I can help with?” Remus asks, spine straightening at the idea of anyone causing Regulus any problems.
“Merlin, calm down!” Regulus huffs with a light smile his way. “There’s no one you have to beat up. Impulsive, bloody Gryffindors. I just mean that there’s been a lot of interest as the Heir to the house of Black, and turning people down can be… a hassle sometimes,” he shrugs, eyes scanning the hallway again, rather than looking at Remus as the elder watches a pale pink blush dust the highest points of his cheekbones, making him look ethereal in the moonlight spilling through the windows.
It takes a moment for his words to filter through the daze Remus finds himself in, but when they do he lets out a belly laugh. “Oh, poor baby Black getting all that attention. Surely, there’s someone you want to go with though?” He questions, forcing the wolf’s defensive posturing down fiercely. No, we are not going to get jealous of—
“Of course there is.” Regulus says gently, with a soft look in his eyes. “But they haven’t asked me yet and I don’t know if I’m brave enough to ask them, so…” he shrugs again.
The wolf howls, scratching at the walls Remus has erected to keep himself sane and functioning instead of feral, making the boy wince slightly, before pulling himself together.
“Oh yeah? You got a crush, baby Black?” He teases, pointedly ignoring how the thought makes him want to tear whoever it is’ throat out. When the other pouts at him, crossing his arms with a huff, Remus can’t help but chuckle, “adorable,” loving the way the pink on Regulus’ cheeks spreads across the bridge of his nose, highlighting the faint freckles that reside there.
“Stop it,” Regulus hisses, turning away, and Remus can smell his embarrassment and - is that shame?
“Hey, hey,” he soothes. “I was only joking. Anyone would be lucky to take you to the Yule Ball, Regs - and anyone you ask would be an idiot to say no!”
“… Even you?” Comes the quiet reply, Remus’ heart shuddering as the wolf goes deathly still inside of him, ears pricked as if listening to a mouse in the woods - ready to hunt.
“Yeah,” he rumbles out, throat raspy and dry. “Yeah, even me.”
Regulus takes a deep breath, shoulders shaking slightly, before turning back to face Remus with a shrewd gaze. “You would… you would go to the Yule Ball with me?” He asks, as if waiting for Remus to tell him he’s the recipient of the Marauder’s latest prank.
Fuck, what has the Black family done to these poor siblings, Remus thinks sadly, staring into eyes like ice pools that somehow hold so much depth and pain and longing.
“Yeah, Regulus. Fuck. Of course I would - I’d be honoured to.” Remus says, thinking back on all the times these past few months where he’s found himself staring at pale, unmarred skin for a little bit too long, or has gone to wave at the other in the corridor, only to remember that they aren’t supposed to be friends, because Remus is a werewolf and Regulus is a ‘future death eater’…
Only, Remus has spent the past four months learning just how untrue that is. Learning about Regulus’ compassion for house elves, and desire to learn about other dark creatures like Vampires in an attempt to help them integrate into society better - which, while it technically does align with the Dark Lords views, why should that be frowned upon? Why isn’t the light side doing anything to help the outcasts and undocumented? He’s also learned that, while Sirius scoffs at the Black family’s obsession with stars, Regulus adores it. He may be best at Potions, but his passion lies in astronomy - he’s currently trying to figure out a way to use constellations and arithmancy to create a new form of divination with his friend Pandora, which he was detailing to Remus the other week, his eyes luminous and silver, making him feel weaker than the full moon.
It’s Regulus’ ambition to make a name for himself outside of the one he was given by birth - his drive to have his own money and life, so that he doesn’t have to rely on his family for help - that truly showed Remus how warped and prejudiced his own thoughts towards Slytherins had become. why should ambition be a bad thing? How could it when it made Regulus shine as brightly as the star he was named after?
Staring at the boy before him with his hopeful eyes and dreamers heart, he can’t stop himself from stepping forward to claim his red-bitten lips with his own, the wolf’s howls of dominance receding into the background as the other lets loose a small whimper, his arms coming up to curl around Remus’ neck, pulling him closer.
“Oh, thank Merlin,” he pants when they separate for breath. “I thought you were going to say no.”
“Never,” Remus growls, nipping at his swollen, plush lips, smirking when the other releases a gentle moan. “I don’t think I’m capable of telling you no,” he admits honestly, moving forwards to start sucking at the delicate neck that’s been haunting his dreams for weeks now.
“I’d thought,” Regulus stops, breaths hitching into a keen, before continuing, “I’d thought you might say no because of my brother,” he confesses.
The wolf pauses at this, whining at the idea of upsetting its packmate, but Remus has already thought this through.
“Leave Sirius to me,” he mutters into the boy’s collarbone, having somehow divested him of his tie and a couple of buttons at some point, biting at the elegantly sloping bone, smiling with satisfaction at the noises it draws from the other. “Your brother owes me.”
“Owes you for something big enough that he’ll let you off with taking his little brother to the Yule Ball?!” Regulus asks incredulously, drawing back to stare at Remus in shock.
Thinking back to the prank last year with Snape and how Sirius begged him for forgiveness, promising he would do anything to go back to the way things were…
Moving back up to the other’s lips, he presses a gentle, feather-light kiss to them, nodding softly. “Yeah, he made me a promise and I haven’t cashed it in yet - I was saving it for a rainy day,” he chuckles, “but I think this is more appropriate.”
Leaning in for another tender kiss, Regulus hums happily, pulling away with a sweet smile. “Okay then, if you’re sure…”
Remus snorts at that. “I can handle your brother, baby,” he murmurs, unable to stop himself from stealing a few more kisses, smiling at the flush that breaks out across Regulus’ face at the nickname. “I knew you liked being called baby Black,” he accuses.
“Oh, shut up!” Regulus snaps, pushing his away with a huff, only to quickly reel him back in for one deep, passionate kiss, before stepping away to straighten his shirt and clear his throat.
Remus doesn’t bother to sort himself out, too busy staring at the other’s red lips and marked up neck in pride, agreeing for once with the Wolf as it rumbles with the satisfaction of a good hunt.
“You’ll have to let me know what colour your dress robes are,” Regulus says, looking away in delighted embarrassment. “So we can colour coordinate.”
“Sounds good to me,” Remus agrees easily. “Whatever you want, baby…”
Turning to him with wide eyes, Regulus’s fingers stutter on his buttons, Remus stepping in closer to redo the final two, leaning in to press a kiss to the mark he left just above his collar.
“You!” Regulus huffs, pulling away to walk down the corridor with a dramatic swirl of his robes. “Come on! We still have rounds to do, you know?” He snaps, eyes narrowing dangerously at the smirk Remus sends him as he slowly starts to follow, gait even and languid.
“Of course, baby Black. Anything you want,” he murmurs, satisfied when he can tell that Regulus knows he means that in more ways than just their Prefect rounds.
“… You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?” Regulus grumbles, waiting for the older boy to catch up to him, smiling when an arm is hooked around his waist.
“Yep.” Remus agrees, popping the P obnoxiously and nuzzling into the artfully tousled hair below him, smelling the sweet scent of happiness wafting off the other in waves. “Absolutely I am.”