James was very fucking glad that he went to meet his best friend’s little brother at the train station.
He would’ve gone, even if Regulus wasn’t the prettiest little thing that James had ever seen. Of course he would. He had to be there for Sirius, seeing his brother in person for the first time in years. Sure, Sirius called his baby brother every night, keeping James up as he tried to sleep across the hall, but that wasn’t quite the same, was it? James was glad to support his best friend and roommate.
But fuck, was Regulus beautiful.
He was pretty similar to his brother, physically, if a bit thin, but there was something in the eyes, something tantalizingly beautiful and deadly, and far away. James could tell, without a shadow of a doubt, that the gorgeous man in front of him was utterly unreachable, and he was utterly entranced.
He shouldn’t have been anything special, in an oversized white t-shirt that hung off his shoulder, and yellowy-gold earrings, embedded with green stones, and gray drawstring shorts. His hair was mussed about his head, dark curls contrasting with pale skin. He looked at James, bored. He should’ve just been a man, Sirius’s little brother, but he was so clearly more. The only word that came to his mind was divine.
Regulus held out his hand to shake, the movement flowy and elegant. James grinned and gripped his hand, shaking it firmly.
“James Potter. It’s nice to meet you,” James said, grinning as brightly as he could.
Regulus tilted his head, smiling slightly, and it was earth shattering. “Pleasure.”
James’s heart was ready to beat out of his chest, racing at the soft touch of Regulus’s hand, the gentle pressure of fingertips on his hand. Perhaps he lingered a little longer than he should have, because Regulus pulled his hand away, stepping to Sirius. He spoke sweetly, his voice soft, and James felt almost… forced to listen, the words falling gently on his ears.
“Come on, Siri,” Regulus said, grabbing his brother’s hand. “Where can I get a good cup of coffee around here?”
James just stared as they walked towards the exit of the station, until Regulus glanced back to him with soft silvery eyes. James chased after them, his heart fluttering in his chest.
🟒🟒🟒
A few weeks into the term, Regulus had very clearly settled in. He was staying with a friend of his, a man named Evan who James really didn’t know very well. He had switched from the casual clothing that James had seen him in for the first time to more fashionable, flowy clothing in ethereal white. Most importantly though, Regulus had gained a sort of… popularity. Everywhere he went, he was followed by a posse of people in white. James knew some of them, vaguely, a few of his classmates, a few people that he’d seen at parties. They were all dressed in striking white, from head to toe. James couldn’t help wondering why they were following Regulus. James lifted his hand to wave to Regulus, who glanced over at him with spaced-out silver eyes and a soft smile. He seemed to drift off into James’s direction, his shoes silent against the concrete.
“Good afternoon, James,” Regulus said, coming close, his eyes drifting across his face.
“Hey, Reg,” James said, quickly darting his gaze across the fairly large group of men and women behind him. “I see you made some friends.”
Regulus glanced around to his sides as though he hadn’t noticed the group following him until now. “Yes, I suppose I have. Though, they are more of my students than my friends.”
“Oh, are you tutoring them?” James asked curiously.
“No, I’m simply passing on the word of God.”
James furrowed his brow. “You’re religious?”
“Of course! I aspire to be a member of his paradisal kingdom.”
James bit his lip. He had never been religious, and neither were his parents. He just couldn’t fathom a creature of that power, someone so perfect that the world would be built in his image. No, James did not believe in a God. But this man really made him want to.
“Would you like to join us for a sermon?” Regulus asked, his voice airy. For once, his gaze was sharp, slicing through James’s skin and burying its way into his bones.
“Oh,” James said, shaking his head. “I’m not religious.”
“Still,” Regulus replied, smiling slightly, and James' heart jumped. “You may learn something.”
James was going to that sermon.
🟒🟒🟒
A month had passed since James made the choice to join the Worshippers of the Divine. That first sermon had changed his life, Regulus’s voice pulling him onto the path to the Holy Kingdom. Many brothers and sisters had joined them since then. They would meet every two days for a sermon led by Regulus, their leader to salvation, their prophet, to hear the word of God. They had to wear white, the color of purity, the color of salvation.
James was often called into Regulus’s quarters, a room in the basement of the building they had converted into their church. He was called by the name Regulus gifted him instead of the one he was born with. ‘Soleil’ Regulus called him often, the sound gentle and light off his tongue. Everyone else still called him James. Regulus never wanted much from him, usually just for him to fetch some wine and sit with him to discuss the gospel. Regulus would gently brush his knuckles against James’s jaw and tell him that he was a favored of the lord. James would grin and blush and that would make Regulus smile. Regulus had the most beautiful smile, the light of the lord shining through him.
In the time that wasn’t spent praising the lord, the Worshippers would go about their lives, attending classes in their startling white robes. James would often frequent Sirius’s apartment, doused in white as Sirius was another member of the Church, along with his boyfriend, soon to be husband under the Church, for God had decreed that their souls were a match and they were worthy of eternal love. James and Sirius would drink tea together and talk freely with each other as they had before joining the Church. Sirius was still James’s best friend after all. James didn’t think of him nearly as much anymore. His thoughts were overtaken with the divine, with Regulus.
🟒🟒🟒
“I like you,” Lily said quietly, her cheeks flushed as red as her hair. “I want to be your soulmate, your wife.”
James was… surprised, at the very least. It wasn’t that Lily wasn’t nice, and she certainly wasn’t bad looking. She always sat herself next to him during sermons and prayers, in the front row to bask in Regulus’s light. Regulus would always glance down at them, faltering a little bit in his sermon. James didn’t think he loved her, but perhaps the lord had decided differently? Perhaps Regulus knew the truth.
“Did you ask the lord?” James asked her. The lord had become synonymous with Regulus’s own name. To reach God you had to go through Regulus and ask him for guidance.
Lily nodded, her cheeks flushed. “Yes… I will not sin by lying to you, he… was not happy with me. He says that we’re not soulmates.”
James couldn’t help breathing out a sigh of relief. “Then we are not soulmates, sister.”
Lily’s eyes pleaded with him, as though he could change the will of God. “But maybe we could, I don’t know, change his mind? I can be a perfect wife. Please, James. We could- we could even leave the church! If God won’t let us marry here, perhaps a different God will!”
“Lily,” James said softly. “You know that there is nothing outside of the Church. No other God is real. I will not lose my path to Heaven.”
Lily lunged forward, wrapping her arms around James’s neck and kissing him. James felt bile rise in his throat. Lily wouldn’t let go.
“I love you,” she murmured and James stayed silent, and prayed. ‘Lord, let her leave me. Let her learn from her mistake’.
And there was a rapping at the door, before it creaked open, Regulus’s cold voice ringing through the room.
“What is going on here?” He asked, glancing between James and the woman that had locked herself onto him.
“Please, Regulus,” Lily pleaded. “Don’t you see? We’re meant to be! Bless our marriage!”
Regulus’s gaze went cold and solid. “Flor, my child, did I not tell you that God decreed that you are not meant to marry Brother Soleil?”
Lily went pale, the blood draining from her face. “Please, Regulus-”
“Go to the Purgatory.” He gestured for her to leave, and tears welled up and spilled out her eyes. James could understand why. He had never had the misfortune of going to the Purgatory but he had heard haunting stories of the dark cage, could hear the cried-out prayers of the Dissenters and the Infected that had been sentenced to days, weeks of time on their knees, praying for help from the God they had forsaken.
Lily didn’t argue. She left, her head bowed, hiccuped sobs escaping her. Regulus strode forward, light as air, and placed a soft, never calloused hand on his cheek.
“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice gentle. James unconsciously leaned into the touch.
“Of course. I prayed, and you came.”
Regulus looked as though he planned to say something in return, but shook his head, deciding against it.
“Why did you tell Lily that we are not soulmates?”
“Because you’re not, my Soleil.”
“Forgive me, Regulus, but if I may ask, who is my soulmate?”
Regulus looked up at him, beautiful silvery eyes boring into James’. “Perhaps that’s something that you’re not meant to know.”
“Is it?”
Regulus didn’t answer, instead leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to James’s lips. “Just know that no one will touch you, Soleil.”
“You kissed me,” James said, half in shock. Not that it wasn’t good. It was beautiful. Divine, even. Warm, and soft, and sweet.
“Yes, I did.”
“So are you my soulmate then?” James asked, smiling hopefully. How perfect would it be if Regulus, the prophet, the divine, were truly his God-ordained soulmate?
“Perhaps,” Regulus replied, not meeting his gaze. “Or perhaps I’m just selfish.”
Regulus took a step back and away from James. “Goodnight, Soleil. I expect you in my quarters, come morning.”
Regulus left before James could respond, shutting the door tightly behind him.
LIly was never seen again.
🟒🟒🟒
The years gently passed in the Church of the Worshippers of the Divine. James couldn’t remember his life before the church, a life before Regulus, who had quickly stated, proud as could be, that James was his soulmate and he was James’, and so James was the official companion of the Prophet. His husband, his love, his Soleil. They would never have children, as was forbidden under the word of God, but they were happy. James was always at Regulus’s side, from the crack of morning, to the darkest tones of midnight. Regulus was almost greedy for his attention, for his time, and his love. The only times during which they were separated were when Regulus had to punish a Dissenter or an Infected, to remove the demons from their soul and leave them open to the will of the lord. Regulus didn’t want him to see the devastation of it all.
That was fine with James.
He didn’t want to see Hell.
The church had been remodeled, their abandoned building decorated and lit to act as a home for Regulus, their messiah, and his love. They had even started a garden on the rooftop. Only Regulus and James were truly allowed to be there though. It was the place closest to God, the only fitting place for them to be. The garden was really Regulus’s passion project.
It was a clear, star-filled night as Regulus sat atop the roof, melancholy etched into his countenance, with James by his side, holding his hand. Regulus’s legs dangled off the side, kicking against brick. Tonight, Regulus was not cloaked in perfect white. Instead he wore only black, from head to toe, a shadow in the night.
“James,” Regulus said suddenly, quietly, his voice almost inaudible. “I have a confession I must make.”
James rubbed small circles into the back of Regulus’s hand as he responded, gazing attentively at his husband, enamored with the way the moonlight almost seemed to radiate off his pale skin. “Yes, my love?”
“I have lied,” Regulus whispered, tears rolling down his face. “To all of them, and especially to you. I’m so sorry, my Soleil.”
James was confused, but he didn’t let it show. He had learned never to doubt Regulus’s word. He supposed he never did. “What do you mean?”
“There is no God,” Regulus said, so softly that it could’ve been just a gust of wind, carrying phantom words. “There is no God, James,” he said, louder this time. “I made it up. I haven’t talked to any God, and no God has spoken to me. I have lied to you.”
Of course there was no God. At least, not one that Regulus could speak to. No, there could be no other God, not when James’s was in front of him, cloaked in moonlight, choking out sobs. And how could James have been so silly as to suspect that there was any other God watching over him, any divine being separate from the one that had married him.
His husband.
His God.
The only divine.
And so James said, a reassuring smile across his face, “I know, my love.”
It was Regulus’s turn to be confused, the emotion blooming across his face. “What?”
“I know there is no God.”
Regulus looked down at the world below, sadness in his eyes. “Then you are free, my Soleil. I cannot make you stay.”
“Why would I leave?”
Regulus turned to him, hope sparking in his eyes. “Would you really stay?”
James smiled and bowed his head. “Of course, my love.”
Regulus laughed breathily, relief flooding over him as he stared back down at the ground below. “Please, James, just call me Regulus from now on.”
James tilted his head and grinned. “Yes, Regulus.”
Regulus grinned, and it was beautiful, shining brighter than the moon and stars above them. “I like the way my name sounds in your voice.”
“I love you, Regulus.”
Regulus looked at him for a moment before leaning over and kissing him gently. “I love you too, my Soleil.”
🟒🟒🟒
James coughed violently as he came back into his body, his arms playing out beside him to feel the ground. It was solid, and tiled, and covered in warm stickiness. The air stank of metallic and artificial fruit.
And then James opened his eyes.
The basement of the church was dark, but not dark enough to hide the mounds of bodies everywhere. James couldn’t hear any breathing. They were dead. They had to be
James forced himself to his knees, his hands sticky and wet with what might’ve been blood, might’ve been red Kool-aid. He could smell it, heavy in the air, sickly sweet, mingling with blood to form a metallic sour-sweet. It was too strong, stingingly overpowering.
Suddenly James was sobbing, the stench of death taking over him. His white linen clothing was coated in the Kool-aid-blood mixture. Could this really be what Regulus wanted? Could this really be the path to salvation?
And suddenly Regulus was there, looming over him calmly. He cupped James’s face with a sticky-red hand. James instinctively leaned into the touch. It was cold, frigid even.
“On your knees, Soleil,” Regulus said unemotionally. And James obeyed. How could he ever question him when he was so lovely in the shadows, coated in black. Black turtleneck, black tights, black dress shoes, all stained with blood. Divine, the only God.
Regulus leaned close, his breath dancing over his ear. It was icy cold. “I chose you, James. My angel… Couldn’t let you die like the rest of them.”
James tilted his head to catch Regulus’s lips in a soft kiss. He tasted like whatever flavor the red Kool-aid was meant to be, sickly sweet and artificial. He was heaven, a paradise of his own creation, and James was his angel, having done right by his God. Regulus tasted like Paradise.
“Stand my love, my Angel, my Soleil,” Regulus whispered, his breath lingering on James’s face. And James did. He stood, suddenly taller than his God. Regulus pressed cold, pale, delicate hands to James’s chest, making their mark on James’s shirt.
“Lead me into the light, Regulus,” James whispered back to him, and Regulus smiled. He wrapped red-stained hands around James’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, rough and biting. Paradise, and Sin, and a God under James’s hands as he fisted Regulus’s perfect curls with grimy hands, and he knew he was dirtying the divine, but Regulus didn’t seem to care, kissing him like the world would end. James supposed it did, and that they were the only ones left, the bodies of the many scattered around them, never good enough to enter Regulus’s kingdom of light.
Others rose in the darkness. Sirius and Remus rose from where they laid, their hands clasped in death and their rebirth. Evan and Barty did the same before making their way to Regulus’s sides, crawling in the murky puddles of sweetness and death. A few others who James knew well. Mostly close friends of either him or Regulus. Regulus did not pull away to speak to them, kissing James as if they were still dead on the ground. James could hear squelching beneath their feet as the small remaining group neared, gathering around their God. And eventually Regulus did pull away to speak, clasping James’s hand.
“My children, you are the chosen ones of God. His angels, those who shall continue his message of Heaven until you yourself are accepted into his kingdom,” Regulus said clearly, his voice booming. He never spoke that way when it was just him and James. No, he only spoke like that when he was commanding the masses, projecting his will onto the subjects of his kingdom of life.
“James shall lead by my side, lead all of them into the Paradise that awaits us,” Regulus said, glancing over at James with a loving smile. James nodded back assuringly, mirroring the expression. “He will lead us all.”
🟒🟒🟒
Three weeks later, the police found the remains of one hundred twenty-three college students in the basement of an abandoned building, lying in puddles of what seemed to be blood and red Kool-aid that, after further inspection, was very much poisoned. There were other bodies in the building, tied on their knees in closets and other small spaces. Some of the bodies were identified as missing people, such as the remains of one Lily Evans, who had been missing for six months. It didn’t take much thought to reach the conclusion that it had been a cultish mass suicide, what with their matching white attire, or the golden goblets, of which some were still holding the poisoned Kool-aid.
After a four-week investigation, the police traced the cult back to Regulus Black, the youngest son of the recently arrested Walburga and Orion Black, and James Potter, his husband and accomplice. They searched for him, searched for his posse of cultish lunatics, all dressed in blinding white, but they didn’t find him, didn’t find any of them. No, by the time they realized, he was long gone.
In a small town on the opposite side of the country, a little independent church arose, and the massacre was repeated by a man named Leo, and his husband, Sol. Regulus Black and James Potter were soon forgotten by all except the few surviving Worshippers of the Divine.