Chapter 6
James slipped quietly through the shadowed seventh-floor corridor, his footsteps light against the cold stone floor. The castle was eerily quiet at this hour, the usual daytime bustle replaced with an oppressive stillness that made every sound seem amplified. Distant laughter from the common rooms had faded long ago, leaving only the occasional creak of ancient wood or the whisper of the wind against the castle walls.
As he approached the familiar stretch of blank wall, his heart began to race—not with fear of being caught, but with the anticipation of seeing him. He glanced over his shoulder, ensuring no one was around, before closing his eyes and letting his thoughts focus on one thing: a place for us, a place where no one can find us.
Within moments, the stone shifted, forming the ornate wooden door that he had come to rely on. James breathed a sigh of relief, his fingers closing around the brass handle as he slipped inside, the door sealing shut behind him with a soft, comforting click.
Tonight, the Room of Requirement had taken on the form of a cozy hideaway—a dimly lit den that felt like a secret world all their own. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow across the room, reflecting off dark mahogany paneling and filling the air with the scent of burning wood and pine. A crackling fireplace warmed the space, and a plush, overstuffed couch was positioned invitingly before it, draped in blankets and cushions.
Regulus was already there, sitting with his back against the armrest, his legs stretched out along the length of the couch. He was staring into the fire, lost in thought, the light casting shadows that danced across his sharp features. He looked up as James entered, his expression softening for the briefest of moments before it hardened again, the walls coming back up as if by reflex.
“You’re late,” Regulus said, his tone clipped, though James could hear the underlying relief that he’d actually come.
“Had a bit of trouble sneaking past Sirius,” James replied with a grin, shrugging off his cloak and letting it fall to the floor. He crossed the room with easy confidence, his hazel eyes never leaving Regulus’s. “He’s on my case again, asking too many questions.”
Regulus snorted softly, but his eyes were clouded with worry. “You’re too reckless, you know that?” he muttered, turning his gaze back to the fire as if it held the answers to all his unspoken fears. “One day, you’re going to get caught, and then what?”
James just smiled, a lopsided grin that he knew drove Regulus mad. “Then we’ll figure it out,” he said simply, settling down on the couch beside him, close enough that their knees brushed.
But Regulus stiffened, shifting away just slightly, enough to put distance between them. “You say that like it’s easy,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Like all of this is just… a game. But it’s not, James. It’s not.” His fists clenched in his lap, knuckles turning white as if he was fighting to hold himself together. “Do you ever think about what would happen if they found out? Your friends would hate you. My family would…” He trailed off, swallowing hard, the words catching in his throat.
James’s smile faltered, replaced by a softer, more serious expression. He reached out slowly, giving Regulus the chance to pull away, but when he didn’t, James took his hand, intertwining their fingers. “I’m not afraid of them,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “I’m not afraid of anyone finding out. I’m only afraid of losing you.”
Regulus shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut as if he could block out the world, block out James’s words. “You’re a fool,” he whispered harshly, though his grip on James’s hand tightened, betraying his need. “You don’t understand… You don’t get what you’re risking. I’m not worth it, James. I’m not… good like you.” His voice broke, and he pulled his hand away, wrapping his arms around himself as if to keep from falling apart. “You should walk away. You still can.”
A heavy silence filled the room, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire. James could feel the weight of Regulus’s fear, the way he was pushing him away not because he wanted to, but because he was terrified of what would happen if he let himself hold on too tightly.
But James had never been one to give up so easily. He leaned in closer, his voice gentle but firm. “I’m not walking away,” he said, determination shining in his eyes. “I don’t care what you think you deserve, Reg. I know who you are—better than anyone. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Regulus’s eyes snapped open, and for a moment, he just stared at James, as if trying to find some hidden lie in his words. But all he found was unwavering sincerity, and it made something in him crack, his defenses crumbling. “Why?” he whispered, the question raw and vulnerable, like a wound that had never quite healed. “Why are you doing this? Why won’t you just… leave?”
“Because I can’t,” James replied softly, his voice thick with emotion.
“Because you’re everything to me, Regulus. And I don’t care how many walls you put up, how many times you try to push me away—I’ll keep coming back. You’re worth it, even if you don’t believe it.”
For a moment, Regulus looked like he might cry, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. But he blinked them back, turning his face away as if ashamed of his own vulnerability. “You’re too good for this,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Too good for me.”
James’s heart broke at the self-loathing in his tone, and he reached out again, this time pulling Regulus into a tight embrace. “You’re wrong,” he murmured into his ear, holding him as if he could shield him from all the darkness in the world. “You’re worth more than you know. And I’m not going to let you go just because you’re scared.”
Regulus trembled in his arms, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of James’s neck, his breath coming in shaky gasps. “I’m so scared, James,” he admitted, the confession a broken whisper against his skin. “I’m so fucking scared.”
“I know,” James whispered back, his own eyes stinging with unshed tears. “But you don’t have to be. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. In this room, they were safe. In this room, they were free to be who they were without fear, without judgment. But even as they clung to each other, the unspoken fears and secrets loomed over them, a reminder that this fragile sanctuary was only temporary.
But for now, it was enough.
And so they held on, hearts beating in unison, in a place that would keep their love hidden for just a little while longer.
A Little over 6 months ago
It was the middle of the night when James Potter stumbled upon Regulus Black for the first time. He’d been out on the grounds for a late-night fly, desperate to clear his mind after a long week of school and Quidditch practice. The crisp autumn air bit at his cheeks, sharp and cold, but it felt freeing. He reveled in the solitude of the night, the wind rushing past him as he soared above the Quidditch pitch, the broom steady beneath him. It was the one time in the day when he didn’t have to think about schoolwork, family expectations, or the pressure of leading the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It was just him and the wind—quiet, calm.
The moonlight cast long shadows over the pitch, and for a brief moment, it felt like time stood still. He had planned to practice a few tricky maneuvers, but something caught his eye from the far end of the pitch. At first, he thought it was just another shadow, maybe a student sneaking out for a midnight walk, but as his eyes adjusted to the low light, he realized it was a figure, dark and unmistakable. Regulus Black.
James froze, mid-air, watching the Slytherin fly low and slow, his robes billowing behind him, almost like they were caught in the wind. Regulus's usual aloof, icy demeanor was on full display as he glided silently, his face hidden by the shadows. The sight of him out here, on the Quidditch pitch of all places, felt almost… wrong. Regulus never came this far out of Slytherin territory, never interacted with anyone outside of his pureblood circle, least of all a Gryffindor.
James’s curiosity got the better of him. "What are you doing out here, Black?" His voice rang out, clear and loud across the darkened pitch.
Regulus jerked, caught off guard by the sudden interruption. He almost lost control of his broom but regained his balance with a sharp flick of his wrist. His eyes, cold and piercing, snapped to James as he landed effortlessly on the ground. He stood still for a moment, broom clutched tightly in his hand, before giving a sneer that made James’s stomach churn slightly. "Potter," Regulus drawled, his voice low and icy. "What do you think you're doing here? Can't sleep?"
James shrugged nonchalantly, leaning his broom against his shoulder. "Just out for a fly. Didn't expect to see you here."
Regulus’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling slightly, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "I’m not in the mood for company, Potter."
James tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "Seems like you’re the one who’s out here, all alone." He couldn’t help the teasing lilt to his voice. He knew Regulus never sought out anyone’s company, least of all Gryffindors. “What, you don’t like practicing when no one’s watching?”
Regulus didn’t respond at first. His gaze flicked away, focusing on something far off, as if trying to escape the conversation. But after a long pause, he scoffed, almost bitterly. "I don’t need your pity, Potter."
James blinked, taken aback by the venom in Regulus’s tone. Pity? Where had that come from? He was just being himself, lighthearted and joking around. "Pity?" James echoed, his tone light but with a touch of confusion. "Who said anything about pity? I didn’t think you cared much about Quidditch when there’s no one around to cheer for you."
Regulus’s jaw clenched, and his face tightened, the muscles in his neck straining as if he were holding back something. “You don’t know anything about me, Potter,” he muttered, his voice low but cutting. James furrowed his brow. There was something raw, something real in Regulus’s voice that James hadn’t expected. Regulus Black was always the picture of perfection, always so controlled, so composed. It was hard to imagine him feeling anything but superior, especially around someone like James. But now, in the dim moonlight, there was a crack in the facade—an anger bubbling beneath the surface, something deeper than mere pride.
Regulus’s gaze turned distant as he seemed to withdraw into himself, his voice quieter now, tinged with something like frustration. "I'm not like you," he muttered, more to himself than to James. "I don’t need anyone’s validation.”
James studied him, his earlier teasing fading as he watched Regulus closely. There was an edge to his words, a deep, aching loneliness that James hadn’t expected from the boy who always seemed so untouchable. It was almost as if Regulus were trying to convince himself of something—something that had to be true, because he couldn't afford for it not to be.
"I don't need validation either," James said slowly, his voice more serious than usual. “You don’t need to prove anything to me, Regulus.”
Regulus’s eyes flickered up to meet his, but there was no gratitude, no acknowledgement. Just the same hard, cold mask. "I’m fine," he spat, as if the words could shield him from whatever emotions were stirring beneath the surface. "I don’t need your charity."
James shook his head, frustration creeping into his chest. “I wasn’t offering charity. I was just offering—” He paused, his eyes searching Regulus’s face for any sign that this conversation might actually mean something to him. But the mask was back in full force, impenetrable and cold.
“Whatever,” Regulus muttered, kicking off the ground with a practiced flick of his broomstick. “I don’t need you.”
James watched him for a moment, his heart pounding. There was something in the way Regulus had said those words—something harsh, but not entirely truthful. I don’t need you. The words echoed in James’s mind, but they didn’t ring true. James knew the walls Regulus had built around himself were more fragile than Regulus would ever let on. He was pushing everyone away, yes, but it wasn’t out of strength. It was out of fear. Fear of being vulnerable, of showing weakness to anyone, least of all someone like James.
“You know,” James called after him, his voice carrying through the night air, “you don’t have to be alone. It’s not some rule of life.”
Regulus’s broom slowed for a moment, but he didn’t look back. “I’ve always been alone, Potter. And that’s how I’ll stay.”
James felt the sting of those words, but he didn’t back down. He wasn’t about to let Regulus shut him out that easily. "You don’t have to stay that way," he called again, his voice a little softer this time. “I don’t bite.”
Regulus’s shoulders tensed, his back straightening, but still, he didn’t turn around. “Maybe I do,” he said bitterly, his voice laced with a kind of hurt that James couldn’t ignore.
It hit James hard. Regulus’s bitterness wasn’t just an act; it wasn’t just an exterior built up to protect him. It was real. There was something eating at Regulus—something in his past that had shaped him into this cold, distant person who refused to let anyone in. James didn’t know all the details, but he knew enough. The tension between Regulus and Sirius Black had been palpable long before their estrangement. James had heard about the bitter rivalry between the two brothers, how they had once stood on opposite sides of the war, with Sirius aligning himself with the Order and Regulus—dutifully, as always—sticking to the ideals of his pure-blood family. He’d heard how Regulus’s relationship with Sirius had deteriorated after that fateful moment when Regulus had embraced the Dark Lord with seemingly open arms, something that had clearly shattered any remaining connection between the brothers. The stories about the Black family’s expectations, their legacy, had reached James’s ears more than once. He knew that Regulus had always been the dutiful son, the one who never wavered, never questioned, and probably still felt the weight of his family’s ambitions pressing down on him. But it didn’t explain the coldness, the isolation that Regulus seemed to embrace so readily. James couldn’t help but wonder if it was all a front, a shield Regulus used to protect himself from the past—and the family that had shaped him.
And Regulus... Regulus was still holding onto that bitterness. Holding onto something darker, something he could never let go of.
James stayed there for a few moments longer, watching as Regulus disappeared into the night, his figure swallowed up by the darkness. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end, that there was more to this story than Regulus was willing to admit. But for now, all James could do was stand there, watching the empty pitch, feeling the weight of Regulus’s departure settle over him.
James lingered in the silence of the Quidditch pitch, the cold air pressing against his skin as Regulus’s figure vanished into the darkness. He couldn’t shake the image of the Slytherin, so distant and cold, yet so utterly vulnerable in that fleeting moment. Regulus’s words still echoed in his mind—I’ve always been alone—and they struck a chord deep in his chest. It was clear now, more than ever, that Regulus Black wasn’t just some arrogant, self-assured Slytherin. There was a depth to him that James hadn’t even begun to understand.
James took a deep breath, his breath visible in the night air, as he turned his broom back toward the skies. But his heart wasn’t in the flight anymore. The wind, the night, the solitude—it all felt distant, distant from the weight of Regulus’s loneliness that seemed to cling to him like an invisible shadow.
What was it that made Regulus push everyone away? James couldn’t quite grasp it. Regulus was always so in control, so calculating—yet James had seen a crack, a glimpse into the turmoil swirling beneath that perfect façade. And if he was being honest, he couldn’t just let it go. Not after tonight.
Flying aimlessly across the pitch, James’s thoughts whirled. He had never really thought about Regulus Black much beyond the usual rivalry. The Slytherin was always there, distant and imperious, a rival to outdo, someone to beat on the Quidditch pitch. But tonight… tonight had changed something.
His thoughts floated to a boy he had never truly considered. Regulus didn’t need pity. That much was obvious. But maybe—just maybe—he needed something else. Someone to see past the mask, past the bitter words, to understand that his isolation wasn’t a choice, but a shield.
A shield against what? James couldn’t quite piece it together, but the hollow ache in Regulus’s voice, the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes had briefly flickered with something more than disdain—James knew there was something more to it than the simple cruelty Regulus often displayed.
It wasn’t just about the war, or the Black family’s expectations, or the endless strain between Regulus and Sirius. James had a hunch that it ran much deeper than that. Regulus had always seemed like he carried a weight, something heavy that pulled him down when no one was looking. And tonight, for the first time, James had seen it. Regulus was more than just the spoiled, arrogant younger Black brother. He was someone who had suffered, someone who had been bruised and scarred by life in ways James couldn’t fully comprehend.
James flew for what felt like hours, his thoughts racing faster than his broom could carry him. He thought of the things Regulus had said: I don’t need your pity. I’ve always been alone. There was so much to unpack there, so much about Regulus’s life that had remained locked away, hidden beneath layers of pride and deflection. And the more James thought about it, the more he realized that Regulus’s loneliness wasn’t just a product of his upbringing. It was something far more personal, something he’d built up over years of keeping people out, of pushing away those who might have cared.
James had always been surrounded by friends, people who loved him, supported him. Sirius. Remus. Peter. Lily. They were there for him, even when he was being an idiot. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to feel like no one could be trusted, to feel like even your own family might be the ones causing you harm. But that was Regulus’s reality. His family was his prison, and escaping that prison wasn’t as simple as walking away. It was more complicated, more painful than that.
Regulus had pushed him away tonight, and maybe that was fine. Maybe James had overstepped. But the thing that stayed with him was the quiet vulnerability he’d glimpsed in the Slytherin, buried beneath his pride, beneath his bitterness. Regulus didn’t want anyone to see that side of him—didn’t want anyone to understand the depth of his pain. But James had seen it, even if just for a moment. And that moment had been enough to make James wonder if, somehow, he could help.
As the night wore on and the moon continued its silent climb across the sky, James found himself heading back to Gryffindor Tower, his thoughts still on Regulus. The boy who never let anyone in. The boy who, deep down, might have wanted someone to see him for who he really was—someone who might understand, even just a little bit, that his bitterness wasn’t a shield against others, but against his own vulnerabilities.
James had always been a fighter, a winner, someone who didn’t back down from a challenge. And Regulus Black, despite his icy exterior, was a challenge James couldn’t ignore.
In the days that followed, James found himself looking for Regulus, hoping for another chance to speak to him, to offer something that wasn’t pity or mockery but a genuine understanding. It was a long shot, but something told him that maybe, just maybe, Regulus Black wasn’t as untouchable as he seemed. And perhaps, in the quiet moments between them, there was the possibility of something more. Something James hadn’t expected.
Hope.
The next time James encountered Regulus was just a day before the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match. The tension was high, the rivalry palpable, and James was feeling it more than ever. As co-captain of the team, he was balancing the weight of leading alongside Marlene, strategizing their plays, and pushing the team harder than ever. His heart was racing with the pressure to perform, and despite his usual confidence, there was a knot in his stomach.
James had always been a Chaser, the one who zipped around the field with speed and precision, using his quick reflexes to score. But today, the pressure wasn’t just about playing well; it was about making sure his whole team was ready. They needed a win. The Slytherins weren’t just a rival; they were a serious threat.
After a long practice session, James found himself unable to sit still. The team had retired to the common room for the night, but the energy still buzzed inside him, refusing to settle. Marlene had given him the usual pep talk before heading off to bed, but even her encouragement couldn't quiet his restless thoughts. So, with his broom in hand, he slipped out of the Gryffindor common room, careful not to wake anyone, and made his way to the Quidditch pitch.
The night was chilly, the stars barely visible behind the cloud cover, and the pitch stretched out before him in eerie silence. James had flown this field hundreds of times, but tonight, there was something different in the air. It felt charged, like a storm was coming, even though the skies were clear.
He flew low, skimming the edge of the field, feeling the cool breeze ruffle his hair and the broom handle beneath his fingers. It wasn’t that he was looking for something specific; he just needed the release. The steady rhythm of flying was something that always calmed his mind, no matter how chaotic the world around him became.
That’s when he saw him—Regulus Black, his figure cut against the darkness, moving fluidly across the pitch, his posture impeccable. The boy was gliding through the air with a grace that James couldn't help but admire, even though he was still caught in the rivalry. Regulus seemed to fly with a certain cold intensity, his movements precise and purposeful, as if every motion was calculated to perfection.
James hovered in the shadows, watching him with a reluctant appreciation. The two boys remained in silence, each acutely aware of the other’s presence, until Regulus broke it, his sharp eyes locking onto James’s.
“Potter,” he drawled, his voice cool and controlled, though there was a slight edge to it. “Shouldn’t you be getting some rest? Big match tomorrow, after all.”
James smirked, leaning forward slightly on his broom as he met Regulus’s gaze. “Rest?” He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need sleep. We’ve got a match to win, and I figure some extra flight time couldn’t hurt. Not that it’s any of your concern.”
Regulus narrowed his eyes, lips curling into something akin to a sneer. “I don’t need your commentary, Potter. Keep to your team. I’m fine out here.”
James could feel the challenge in Regulus’s tone, but he didn’t flinch. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice laced with teasing curiosity. “I mean, I’d have thought you’d be doing something more... productive with your time. You’re out here alone.”
For a moment, Regulus didn’t respond. He flew a few more loops, twisting midair in a smooth, practiced motion, before facing James again. There was a tension in his posture, but James could see something else there—something guarded.
“You’ve got a game tomorrow, Potter,” Regulus said coldly, his gaze narrowing. “Not that I care. But I don’t need you watching me.”
James snorted, flying a little closer. “Didn’t think you’d care if I watched,” he replied, his voice carrying a note of challenge. “But here we are. We’re not so different, are we? Both up late, both looking for something.”
Regulus’s eyes flicked over him, but James couldn’t read the look that passed between them. There was a pause, thick with unspoken words, and then Regulus’s expression shifted slightly, his usual venom replaced with something more... vulnerable. For just a moment, the walls Regulus had built seemed to crack.
“I don’t need anyone’s help, Potter,” Regulus muttered, his voice suddenly quieter, almost reluctant. “And I don’t want it.”
James’s features softened, his posture loosening as he floated closer. “I wasn’t offering help,” he said gently. “Just... if you ever feel like not flying alone, I’m around. Quidditch’s a lot of pressure. It’s okay to let it out sometimes. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”
Regulus shot him a glance, his dark eyes searching James’s face for any hint of mockery or insincerity. Finding none, he let out a slow, almost bitter laugh. “You don’t understand, Potter,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the wind. “You don’t know what it’s like.”
James tilted his head, genuinely considering Regulus’s words. “Maybe I don’t,” he admitted. “But I do know what it’s like to feel like you’re supposed to keep it all together. To be the one everyone looks to when things go wrong. To feel like if you crack, it all falls apart.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the soft hum of their brooms cutting through the air. The night seemed to stretch on endlessly, but in that moment, something shifted. Regulus didn’t seem so untouchable anymore—he seemed human, vulnerable even. But before James could say anything more, Regulus’s mask slammed back into place.
“I didn’t ask for your pity, Potter,” he snapped, his voice sharp again, almost defensive. “I don’t need anyone’s help. Least of all yours.”
James blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift, but he didn’t back down. “I’m not pitying you,” he said quietly, his voice firm but calm. “Just... just saying. You don’t have to pretend you’ve got it all figured out. Not everything has to be a fight.”
Regulus didn’t meet his gaze. His face darkened, and with a swift movement, he pulled his broom higher into the air, distancing himself. His voice was barely a whisper as he muttered, “You don’t get it. You never will.”
And with that, Regulus flew off, leaving James behind, still suspended in midair, watching him go. The cold night seemed to swallow Regulus up, and within moments, he disappeared into the shadows, back into his solitude.
James stayed there for a moment, hovering on his broom, the adrenaline from practice still humming through his veins. He wasn’t sure what to make of the interaction, or if it had meant anything at all. But one thing was clear: there was more to Regulus Black than the icy, bitter exterior he always wore. Something had shifted, even if just a little.
James wasn’t sure if it was his place to try and get closer to Regulus. After all, the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin wasn’t something easily ignored, neither was the bad blood between his best friend and his–....and Regulus. But maybe, just maybe, Regulus wasn’t as unreachable as he had always seemed.
And perhaps, despite everything, James would keep trying to figure it out.
Two days later
The pitch was silent under the cloak of midnight, the vast expanse of the sky littered with distant, blinking stars. The only sound was the occasional rustle of leaves and the low hum of crickets, interrupted by the soft whoosh of broomsticks cutting through the air. James Potter hovered in the center of the pitch, the darkness swallowing him whole, save for the faint green glow of the enchanted goggles strapped to his face. The air was crisp, biting at the exposed skin of his hands, but he barely felt it, adrenaline already thrumming in his veins.
He fiddled with the goggles—his own invention, a product of boredom and a restless mind. He’d charmed them to pierce through the pitch-blackness of the night, turning everything into a sharp, emerald-tinged landscape. He was just about to take off for a solo practice when a familiar, almost imperceptible sound caught his ear—the soft swoosh of a broomstick.
James squinted through his goggles, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the figure hovering a few feet away. A figure with the same green-tinted goggles strapped to his face, his expression unreadable.
James hovered just a little too close, the tension between them thickening with every word. “Black,” he called out, his voice a teasing challenge. “What are you doing here? I thought we agreed—this is my domain.”
Regulus, floating a few feet away with an almost too-casual air, glanced back over his shoulder with a smirk. “Potter, I’m here to make sure you don’t break anything valuable. Wouldn’t want your broomstick to go up in flames just yet.”
James narrowed his eyes, hovering in place. “Oh please, the only thing I’m worried about breaking would be your face but I’d hate to deprive the world of such a pretty thing.”
Regulus laughed, a low, smooth sound that only made James’s insides tighten. “Is that supposed to be a compliment, Potter? You really think I’m ‘pretty’?”
James leaned in, clearly enjoying the game they were playing. “I mean, for a Slytherin, sure. But don’t get ahead of yourself, Black. There are prettier things than you out here.”
Regulus tilted his head, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he looked James over. “Careful, Potter. Keep talking, and I might just show you what’s prettier.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid of you, Black.” James’s voice was a challenge, his grin sharp. “You talk big, but I bet you can’t even keep up. You’d be too busy looking at your reflection to focus.”
Regulus gave him a smirk, clearly unfazed. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.” He paused for a beat, eyes scanning James. “Tell me, do you always act this cocky, or is it just when you’re trying to compensate for something?”
James let out a low laugh, not backing down. “Compensate for what, exactly? My ability to put you in your place?”
Regulus rolled his eyes dramatically, his smirk never faltering. “Keep dreaming, Potter. You might get a lucky shot in now and then, but when it comes down to it, I’ll be the one walking away victorious. You might want to start taking notes.”
James raised an eyebrow, not missing a beat. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”
“Oh, I know exactly what I’m dealing with,” Regulus replied, his voice dropping a little lower as he leaned in closer. “You’re rather predictable. However, I can admit that you surprise me now and again. But that’s fine, Potter. I like a challenge.”
James felt a shiver run through him, the intensity of Regulus’s gaze leaving him momentarily speechless. “Challenge?” he echoed, trying to regain his composure. “You’re calling this a challenge? You’re not even in my league.”
Regulus’s lips curled into a smug grin. “I think you’ll find that I’m exactly where I need to be.” He leaned forward just enough that James could feel the electric charge between them, and it made his stomach do an involuntary flip.
“Bold words, Black,” James said, his voice a little rougher now, trying to hide the sudden shift in his chest. “But we’ll see how long that cockiness lasts when I wipe the floor with you.”
Regulus looked at him with a mixture of amusement and something more dangerous. “We’ll see, Potter. But you might want to hold onto that confidence of yours. You’ll need it when I start making you eat those words.”
The air between them practically crackled, charged with something both competitive and undeniably... electric. James wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch Regulus or kiss him?—Merlin, no, not that. The thought hit him out of nowhere, sharp as a bludger to the gut. What the hell, Potter? His mind reeled, spinning off its axis like a rogue broomstick. That wasn’t... he didn’t—No. Absolutely not.
His face must have given something away because Regulus arched an eyebrow, eyes glittering with that infuriating mix of curiosity and amusement. James felt a flush crawl up his neck, heat pooling in his cheeks as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. The realization hit him like a cold splash of water: he was staring. And not just any kind of staring—the kind you did when you wanted to memorize every detail, every angle, every damn freckle scattered across Regulus’s stupid, pretty face.
James snapped his eyes away, suddenly hyper-aware of the way his heart was pounding, like it was trying to escape his ribcage. No, no, no. This is a joke. A trick of the light. He’s just... He’s just competitive. That’s it. But even as he tried to convince himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting beneath the surface. Something he wasn’t ready to face.
He took a deep breath, forcing a cocky grin back onto his face, hoping it masked the inner chaos that was currently threatening to consume him. Kiss him? You’re losing it, Potter. Get it together. He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the thought like it was nothing more than a pesky fly buzzing in his ear.
"What's the matter, Potter?" Regulus’s voice was a smooth drawl, dripping with mock concern. "Cat got your tongue? Or are you just out of comebacks already?"
James nearly choked, snapping his gaze back to Regulus, who was still watching him with that infuriating smirk. For a split second, he swore Regulus knew—knew exactly what had just crossed his mind. And the thought only made the panic tighten in his chest like a vice.
“Please, Black,” James shot back, desperate to regain some semblance of control. “I was just wondering if that smirk of yours ever gets tired. Or if you just practice it in front of the mirror every night.”
But even as the words left his mouth, he couldn’t quite shake the lingering thought. The traitorous, horrifyingly persistent thought that he had, in fact, just considered kissing Regulus Black. His sworn rival. The bloke who made his blood boil and his fists clench.
You’ve lost it, mate. Completely lost it, he thought, his heart hammering away like it was trying to outrun the insanity of his own brain. James forced himself to focus, gripping his broom handle tighter than necessary as if it could ground him in reality. A reality where he definitely, absolutely did not want to kiss Regulus Black.
But the damage was done. The thought was there, lodged in his mind like a splinter, refusing to be dislodged no matter how hard he tried to shake it off. And worst of all, Regulus was still watching him with that damned knowing look, like he could see right through James’s flimsy attempts at bravado.
James clenched his jaw, praying to Merlin that the flush on his cheeks could be passed off as just another adrenaline rush. “You’re not getting into my head, Black,” he growled, even as the lie tasted bitter on his tongue. “You wish.”
Regulus just chuckled, a sound that sent another jolt of something unsettling through James’s chest. “Keep telling yourself that, Potter. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
James shook his head furiously, as if he could somehow rattle his brain back into place. “Focus, you idiot,” he muttered to himself. “You’re here to beat him, not—” But he couldn’t even finish the sentence. The idea of kissing Regulus lingered like a whisper in the back of his mind, taunting him with possibilities he wasn’t ready to explore.
Determined to push the thought as far away as possible, he turned back to Regulus. Because this was a game, a challenge, and nothing more. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let his brain turn it into something it wasn’t.
Not now, not ever.
“You talk a lot, Black,” James said finally, trying to keep his voice steady. “But when it comes down to it, you’re just all bark and no bite.”
Regulus’s smirk only deepened, his gaze locking with James’s. “Don’t be so sure, Potter. You might find that I’ve got more bite than you can handle.”
James’s breath caught, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. They just hovered in that charged silence, both testing the limits of whatever this was between them. James’s heart was racing, and for the first time, he wasn’t sure if it was just the adrenaline of the rivalry or something else entirely.
“Well,” James said, forcing the words out, “I guess we’ll find out.”
Regulus nodded, his smile never fading. “Oh, we will, Potter. We most definitely will.”
Suddenly, Regulus broke the tension with a sharp, almost theatrical motion. He pulled a pair of sleek, black night-vision goggles from his pocket and set them on his face with a flourish. “You’ve got some nerve, Potter. Thinking you’re the only one who can outwit the dark.”
James’s eyes flicked to the goggles, recognition flickering in his chest. “You’ve got a pair? Where did you get those?”
Regulus flicked his wrist, releasing the Snitch into the air, watching it dance and flicker with a life of its own. “Did you really think you were the only one clever enough to come up with something like this? Hate to break it to you, but you’re not as special as you think.”
James rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but grin. “Alright, fine, I’ll bite. I’m guessing you stole the idea, but I’ll let it slide. For now.”
Regulus let out a soft, derisive laugh, the sound curling around them in the chilly air. “You flatter yourself if you think I need to steal your ideas,” he drawled, adjusting his grip on his broomstick. “I’ve got better things to do than copy your little projects.”
“Yeah? Like what, sneaking around in the middle of the night hoping to catch a glimpse of me?” James shot back, raising an eyebrow. “I’m flattered, Black, really. You could’ve just asked if you wanted a late-night broomstick date.”
Regulus’s lips twitched, almost as if he were suppressing a laugh. “In your dreams, Potter,” he replied coolly, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something James couldn’t quite place.
James leaned forward on his broom, grinning. “Alright, since we’re both here, let’s settle this. One-on-one Quidditch. Just you, me, and the stars. First to ten goals. Unless you’re scared I’ll outscore you?”
Regulus tilted his head, considering James with a look that was half amusement, half disdain. “A Chaser match?” he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “How very original, Potter. What’s next, playing tag? Or are you afraid you won’t be able to handle a real challenge?”
James shrugged, unfazed. “What’s wrong, Black? Afraid I’ll run rings around you? Or is it that you’re not used to flying without a dozen house-elves cheering you on?”
“Oh, please,” Regulus scoffed, his tone laced with condescension. “If you think I’m wasting my time playing some pathetic Chaser duel, you’re even dumber than I thought. But tell me, how exactly were you expecting to score goals when there’s no Keeper? You planning on charming a tree to block the hoops? And what about the beaters, hum?”
James blinked, thrown off for a second. “Er—well, I hadn’t exactly thought that far, but I’m sure we can—”
Regulus cut him off with a smug smile. “Typical Gryffindor. All bravado, no brains. If you really want a challenge, let’s do something worthwhile.” He paused, letting the suspense build. “I propose something that actually requires skill—something that doesn’t involve throwing a ball through a hoop like a glorified circus act. Let’s have a Seeker match.”
James blinked, caught off guard. “A Seeker match?” he repeated, incredulous. “I’m not a bloody Seeker, Black.”
Regulus gave a dramatic sigh, shaking his head slowly. “And somehow, that’s my problem?” he asked, his voice smooth and mocking. “Afraid you’ll lose to a Slytherin? It’s okay, Potter. We can stick to your little Chaser game if you’re too scared.”
James bristled, his competitive spirit flaring to life. “Scared? Of you? Not in this lifetime, Black,” he shot back, his eyes narrowing behind his goggles. “Alright, fine. A Seeker match it is. But don’t come crying to me when I catch the Snitch before you even lay eyes on it.”
Regulus’s smirk widened, something almost predatory in the curve of his lips. “Bold words for someone who doesn’t even know how to look for it,” he said, his tone almost a purr. “Let’s see if you can back them up.”
They stared each other down for a moment, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. James wasn’t sure what he was doing here, wasn’t sure why he was willingly stepping into yet another game with Regulus Black, the most infuriating, enigmatic person he’d ever met. But there was something about this—about the thrill of the challenge, the way Regulus’s eyes glinted with something that looked suspiciously like excitement—that he couldn’t resist.
Regulus, on the other hand, found himself equally baffled. There was no reason for him to be out here, no reason for him to indulge James Potter of all people. But here he was, drawn in by the sheer audacity of it all, by the way James seemed so determined to provoke him, to challenge him. It was irritating, infuriating... and yet, oddly exhilarating.
“Alright, then,” James said, breaking the silence. “Let’s do this.”
Regulus pulled a Snitch from his pocket, holding it up between them. It glittered in the green glow of their goggles, its wings buzzing like an angry insect. “Try not to blink, Potter,” he said, his voice low and taunting. “Wouldn’t want you to miss your only chance.”
James gave a cocky grin. “Don’t worry about me, Black. Just try not to cry when I catch it before you can even say ‘slytherin pride.’”
Regulus let out a sharp laugh, genuinely amused. “Oh, Potter, I think you’ve got it all wrong. This is going to be fun.”
And with that, he released the Snitch, sending it whizzing into the darkness. For a moment, it was a flash of gold against the black, and then it vanished, swallowed by the night.
They waited another minute, then without another word, they both shot off after it, brooms slicing through the air like arrows. James leaned low, urging his broom to go faster, the wind whipping his hair back as he strained his eyes, trying to spot the Snitch in the black expanse. He wasn’t a Seeker by any means, but he wasn’t about to back down from a challenge—not when Regulus was watching.
Regulus, meanwhile, was all precision and grace, his movements fluid as he soared through the air. He was a natural Seeker, every inch of him honed for this, and it showed. He darted in and out of James’s path, cutting him off with infuriating ease, his laughter trailing behind him like smoke.
“Faster, Potter!” Regulus called, his voice a taunt carried by the wind. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to keep up.”
James gritted his teeth, pushing himself harder, his mind racing with strategies. He was out of his element, and he knew it. But damned if he was going to let Regulus Black have the satisfaction of winning.
“Don’t get too cocky, Black!” James shouted back. “You’re not the only one who knows how to fly, you know!”
But even as he said it, a small part of him was starting to wonder what he was doing. Why was he here, chasing after a bloody Snitch in the middle of the night, with someone who was supposed to be his enemy? Why did he feel this strange, electric thrill every time Regulus shot him that smug, challenging grin?
And Regulus... Regulus was asking himself the same question. Why was he letting Potter get under his skin like this? Why was he pushing himself harder than he ever had, just to stay one step ahead? Why did he feel that inexplicable pull, that maddening urge to see just how far he could push James before he broke?
They twisted and turned, darted and dived, their brooms almost colliding as they fought for dominance in the air. And for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered—just the two of them, caught in a game that was equal parts rivalry and something dangerously close to exhilaration.