Regulus leaned against the hard stone wall of the clock tower. His back was sore from hunching over his exams this past week, but after Transfiguration tomorrow, he’ll be done with his OWLs. He should be sleeping right now, actually, but the thoughts of what would come after the exams, after the too-short train ride back to platform 9¾, had chased him from his bed to his favorite haunt. And, if Regulus was being completely honest with himself, it wasn’t just his mother’s looming presence that brought him here. He had… alternative reasons to be up in the clock tower for that secret, quiet hour between 1am and 2am, reasons that might involve a certain bespeckled quidditch captain.
“And I was shouting over at Marlene, right? But, get this, she couldn’t hear me over the wind– Oh, I forgot to mention, it was ridiculously windy. No one could fly straight ahead, we were being tossed from one side of the pitch to the other like, well, like the Quaffle! Did I tell you, I lost my glasses once too, in wind like that? I must have told you that story, and if I haven’t, I’ll tell you after. Now, where was I? Ah, yes! Marlene was halfway across the pitch near the stands, and I was in the middle right? So she couldn’t hear a single thing I was saying, and she must have misunderstood when I called for formation five because-”
With what might have been a slightly impatient huff, Regulus leaned over, grabbed James by his tie, and savored in the soft gasp that fell from the brown haired boy as Regulus pulled him until their noses were touching. James gulped, going silent, mouth frozen open, eyes wide. His hot breath tickled Regulus’s lips, and Regulus swore that he could feel the air between them charge with something hot and itchy.
“James?”
“Yes, Regulus?” James’ voice was just a soft murmur, something felt more than heard.
“Stop talking.”
James mouth hung open as if he would respond before he snapped it shut and nodding quickly. Regulus felt a smile pull at his lips, tugged ever-so-lightly on James’ tie again, and his eyes fluttered closed as their lips met for a gentle kiss. After that, things went quiet for a moment.
~~
Pressed against James’ chest was a much more comfortable way to recline, Regulus thought. His hair was tangled, and James’ hands carded gently through it, his fingers tickling the backs of Regulus’s ears in that pleasant, just-barely-arousing way. He inhaled, stretching into the warm heat of James and languishing in the closeness. He could fall asleep this way, he mused, and not think of a single thing.
“What do you want to name your kids?”
Pulled out of his hazy, near-sleep state, Regulus shot a dirty look up at James, who was looking out of the far window. Regulus snorted, “As if I’ll have children.”
James’ mouth fell into what could only be described as the pout of an only child who's parents refused to play a game with them. “C’mon, you must have thought of it!”
“I’ve thought of it,” grimaced Regulus, “and my thoughts and I have concluded that, if the Black family name doesn’t end with Sir– my brother and I, then something has gone horribly wrong.”
James seemed ready to interject at that, but Regulus continued. “Imagine another poor child was born into a name with more syllables than some of the rarer potion ingredients. I wouldn’t wish death by a potion made from ‘regulus-arcturus-blackus-the-thirdianus’ on my worst enemy. Not to mention how long it takes to learn to spell it! And-”
“I like your name.”
Regulus was wrenched from what he felt were well-considered musings. James was looking at him with something hard to explain in his eyes, a kind of softness sitting in them like a cat curled in a lap. “You like my name?” Regulus's voice was more questioning than he wanted it to be, timid.
James cleared his throat. “Of course I do. It makes a statement, y'know? Takes someone special to stand under the weight of that name and not falter, and you, uh, you do. Plus,” he smirked, “Reggie is quite a nickname.”
Regulus detested the blush that ran across his nose and up his ears. Sparing himself the pain of spluttering a defensive response, he huffed and ducked his head down, so that James couldn’t see the smile that spread across his face against his will. He would never get use to hearing James call him 'Reggie,' and he decided that it would be best to not address it in the hopes that James would stop saying it in that too-fond tone of voice he so loved to use.
“You’re telling me that, in the, what, 500 years of names in the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, there’s not one that you like?”
Regulus thought to make some snide comment about how James expected him to know every single name in the history of his family, but thanks to Walburga’s ruthless education, he actually did, and the point would be mute. Besides, James’ hand had gone back to rubbing behind his ears, and the ‘witty-banter’ part of his brain wasn’t functioning at 100%.
Swallowing, Regulus mumbled, “I have an uncle, who lived a century or so ago, who’s name I always thought was almost normal.” He was surprised to find that it was harder to talk about than he had planned for. He had given up any dreams of having children twice now, first when he realized he was gay, and then when he realized that planning for after the war would only lead to more heartbreak. Still, there was a small part of him that sometimes thought about how it would feel to raise a child with the love he never had. How different would they be, from the way he is now?
James seemed to sense this pause, and waited in the silence, letting Regulus gather his thoughts and reign in the emotions that were quickly spiraling out of his control
“This uncle,” continued Regulus, stabilizing the wobble in his voice that threatened tears, “is the reason that we say my brother is the first Gryffindor in the family just for the last 100 years. After he was sorted into Gryffindor, and after they disowned him for that, they ended up tossing him out three more times. They kept letting him come back, on account of the fact that he was cleverer than all of them combined, and then kicking him out when he wouldn’t use all that cleverness for a bit of scheming. His full name was atrocious, ‘Leophanus Hariwald Horologium Black II’, but everyone called him–”
“Harry.”
Regulus paused to look up at James, who had gone completely still and was now looking down at him. “Yeah, Harry,” Regulus said softly, holding James’ stare. A tangible line seemed to connect them, and Regulus felt his heartbeat in his throat as James swallowed. “If I ended up with a child, somehow, I’d want to name them that.”
James' eyes held his, but they seemed to loose focus, and he looked to be in a moment of intense thinking before his eyes blinked slowly, and a grin spread broad and indulgent across his face. He squeezed Regulus against him, and Regulus let out a surprised chuckle. “What? What is it?”
James leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Harry James Potter really does have quite the ring to it, you know.”
Regulus felt a smile forming to match James’, and he said, grinning, “It does, doesn’t it?”
They sat in a moment of calm happiness, before a spark of curiosity came over Regulus. “You asked the question, what names were you thinking of?”
James snorted, “You're going to think I'm silly. I was thinking of ‘Arcturus James Potter,’ after someone I know,” and with that, he poked a finger lightly into Regulus’s ribs, who was feeling another embarrassing blush creep across his face, “but I think you’re right when you say that a name like that would take a bit of growing into.”