Feelings
Tuesday, 1 November 1976
If James wasn’t entirely used to his best friends’ antics, he’d have noticed immediately that Remus and Sirius were acting strange.
Sirius, having been starved of touch and affection for the first eleven years of his life, had taken to affixing himself to his friends like an overenthusiastic leech. No one at Hogwarts, even their very best friend, could see any difference in the way that Sirius was hanging off Remus today and the way he’d been hanging off Remus since the other boy had finally grown accustomed to physical contact during spring term of their first year.
It was lucky, in fact, that Sirius drew so much attention to himself. No one could see the change in his behavior, he was just Sirius. He loved attention and affection; he’d hold his friends hands and give them giant crushing hugs in the hallway, and no one questioned it. But, if anyone paid attention to his dear Remus, they’d never begin to assume the nickname had anything to do with lycanthropy, and everything to do with the way he was absolutely, positively mooning over his best friend.
James had only seen his friends on their way out of the Great Hall at breakfast and he didn’t see them at lunch, Remus had said he was studying, and Sirius was nowhere to be found. Neither of these things were out of the norm, James had nothing to question. But they’d shown up to dinner. And any normal person would have had grounds to question their behavior.
Sure, Sirius was an affectionate bloke, but he spent the entirety of dinner essentially sitting in Remus’ lap while the blush spread further and further across Remus’ cheeks until his entire face was bright red and the flush was spreading down his neck. No one, including Lily, could seem to hold Remus’ attention for more than fifteen seconds before he trailed off and then zoned out staring at Sirius, looking like he’d been dosed with a heavy measure of Amortentia.
Really, James should have seen what was going on.
Sirius and Remus were incapable of hiding such strong emotions and Lily was incapable of making a truly veiled innuendo. Any passerby could’ve come to an accurate conclusion. But James was thoroughly distracted, and Peter had disappeared into the library to try and piece together a divination essay before classes resumed tomorrow, so James had no one by his side to point out how truly strange the pair was acting.
So, instead of being even slightly observant, James was staring like a dope at the younger Black brother who was seated with his friends at the Slytherin table across the Great Hall.
All James could think about was the twinkle he’d seen in Regulus’ eye the night before and the way he’d said his name. James, like it was something precious.
Whoever was shouting at him now, however, had much less reverence.
“James, James, JAMES!”
“Wh- What?” James stuttered, absolutely failing at playing it cool. He tried to steady his features before turning a signature James Potter grin at the student beside him, “what’s up, Evans?”
She took a pause and studied his face, (for not the first time) James found himself wondering if Lily Evans was, in fact, a practiced legilimens. Then she said, very matter of factly, “you’re into someone, I know who it is, I’m not going to tell anyone, but I’m going to tell you to be careful with their trust. It’s fragile.”
Even then, Lily knew James better than just about anyone.
After another moment’s pause, her harsh expression melted into a warm smile, “oh, who am I kidding, you’re James Potter, you don’t have it in you to break someone’s trust.”
James wasn’t quite sure how to process … any of that.
A part of him would always love Lily Evans, and here she was saying something so genuinely kind that he couldn’t help the way his heart raced. But, at the same time, she was telling him to choose someone else, to accept their trust and do his best to make them happy. Being all of 16 years old, and not quite yet a master of his emotions, James decided to avoid voicing any of these emotions and instead chose what he saw as a safe route.
He put on his sweetest smile and reached out, taking Lily’s hand and squeezing it once. He could tell she understood him, without having to exchange any words. Returning his smile, she squeezed his hand back and then returned to the futile effort of getting Remus’ attention.
* * *
“What exactly have you done to incur the wrath of the pride of psycho lions today?”
“Barty, what in Salazar’s name are you on about?”
“Potter hasn’t broken eye contact with you once, it’s like he’s focusing on casting a very specific curse … should we throw something at him and break his concentration?”
“We could always just preemptively curse him,” Evan chimed in. Ever the helpful prat.
“No one’s cursing Potter.” Regulus bit out, a little to forcefully. Shaking his head and trying his best to gather his wits, because Blacks don’t lose their grip.
Well, Regulus thought, they do … it just usually happens after years of using Dark Magic and being cursed by one’s own parents.
He cleared his throat and tried his best to sound normal, “they were all out of their minds last night, I don’t think he’s actually staring at me, I’m pretty sure he’s just somehow still stoned.”
Barty and Evan bought that. I mean, it wasn’t entirely out of the question. The Marauders, as they insisted they be called, had a bit of a reputation for … let’s say, indulging in life’s pleasure. And, if we’re being honest, Regulus wasn’t quite sure it wasn’t true. He had no idea what James had gotten up to after he left the Room of Requirement, and the Hogwarts Rumor Mill was currently spinning a tale that James Potter had somehow been so thoroughly sloshed that he’d tricked the protection wards on the Gryffindor girls’ dorms. Everyone wanted to say there was no way that had happened but, with James Potter, the impossible option was usually more likely.
While Regulus had been talking his dear friends out of cursing his never-ending crush, James had turned his attention away from Regulus and toward Lily. The latter seemed to have her lecture face on. An expression that Regulus knew all too well. He grinned, despite himself, delighting in that halting glare being turned on someone else. As Regulus watched, Lily’s gaze softened. He saw James reach out and take her hand before the pair smiled softly at each other.
Regulus was about to burst with rage.
Then James turned his head, and his eyes found Regulus again, and Regulus understood.
The look in James’ eye was nothing short of pure joy and affection. The grin that broke out on his face could’ve powered the sun. He looked up and then cocked his head toward the door. He waited for Regulus to return his nod before squeezing Lily’s hand again, pulling an odd face at Sirius and Remus across the table (now, that was something Regulus was going to have to figure out later), and making his way toward the door. Regulus shifted his glance to Lily who gave him a smile nearly as bright before nodding toward James.
Without so much as a cursory glance to his housemates, Regulus stood up and followed James out of the hall. He knew exactly where the older boy was going, he didn’t have to ask.
Instead of rushing to catch up to James, Regulus let him lead the way, leaving a few meters between them. Somehow, he could tell that James knew Regulus was following. When they made it up to the blank wall across from the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy, Regulus watched as James closed his eyes and paced once, twice, and thrice in front of the wall. Slowly, the door appeared from the brick. Still having said nothing, James reached out and opened the door before gesturing that Regulus should go in first. Ever the gentleman, Regulus thought, except when he’s planting bubotuber puss in the dungeons.
Regulus walked into what he immediately knew was James Potter’s bedroom. James looked a little shocked.
“What’d you ask it for?”
It took James a second to respond, Regulus wasn’t sure if he was taking in his surroundings, shocked that he’d somehow ended up in his childhood bedroom with his best friend’s little brother, or embarrassed that he’d conjured his bedroom at all. Based on the look on James’ face, Regulus decided it was probably a mixture of all three.
“Oh, erm,” James cleared his throat, his usual confidence seemed to falter, “I ah, asked it for somewhere familiar and comforting.” James shook his head, as a blush spread across his cheeks, he stuttered slightly then seemed to grab on to that famous Gryffindor courage, “I was nervous and wasn’t sure you’d actually follow and then when I realized you were following, I got even more nervous. So that seemed like the best thing to ask for.”
“Smart,” was all Regulus could think to respond.
When he turned back to face James, the older boy was, once again, entirely zoned out. “Potter,” he tried … no response, “Potter!” … still nothing, “James?”
Ah, that got his attention.
“James?” he responded, a smile starting to light up his face, “since when am I James?”
Regulus couldn’t help but blush, trying his best for sarcasm to cover the obvious emotion in his tone, he shot back “your entire life, I’d presume.”
All that achieved was getting James to throw back his head and laugh with unbridled delight.
That absolutely did not help quell Regulus’ ridiculous infatuation with one James Fleamont Potter.
“Alright, Reggie –”
“Ugh, I hate that nickname.”
“Too bad, Reggie, dear, it’s sticking around.”
And, really, who could say no to that grin?
“Alright,” Regulus managed to croak out, “if you insist … Jamie.”
James’ disgust of that particular nickname did a truly horrendous job of covering up the blush spreading across his cheeks and the grin starting to take over his face.
“Anyways,” James started again, “I’m going to Gryffindor up.”
“What, pray tell, does that mean?”
“I’m going to Gryffindor up,” he repeated, unhelpfully. Then, with a deep breath, he spit out “IhavefeelingsforyouandIdon’tknowwhattheymeanorwhattodoaboutthembut ah er, Merlin’s beard this is yikes,” he cut himself off with a groan.
Regulus was dumbstruck. James looked like he wanted to melt into the floor.
Finally, Regulus forced himself to take a breath, “ah, James, could you try that again … slower?”
James studied Regulus face for a minute and, after seemingly finding what he was looking for, started to speak again, “Regulus, I have feelings for you. I don’t know exactly what they mean or what to do about them, but they’re definitely not … platonic … and I certainly hope they’re reciprocated.”
That was all Regulus had to hear before he found himself … Gryffindor-ing up?? … and stepping forward to do what he’d dreamed about since he was 11.
Regulus had crossed the room until he was standing half a step away from James, and in one swift movement, he reached out and cradled James’ face with both of his hands before closing the last bit of distance. He didn’t have to move any further as James picked up on the cue immediately, leaning forward and closing the final gap between them.
It was better than Regulus ever could have imagined, and trust, he’d imagined it a lot.
James was warm.
Not just warm, but warmth incarnate. His magic radiated off of him like rays of sun or sparks from a mantle, his warmth was all encompassing, and the most comforting thing Regulus had ever felt. After the first brush of their lips, he seemed to truly tap into that Gryffindor bravery. James reached out and wrapped his arms around Regulus’ waist, encircling him entirely and pulling him flush against James’ torso. Regulus left one hand cupping James’ cheek and moved the other to tangle in the messy black curls that he’d spent years wishing he could touch.
Time stood still.
After what could have been seconds or hours, the pair finally came up for breath. The absence of James’ lips against his own felt truly catastrophic. All Regulus wanted to do was kiss him again, but before he could move, James leaned forward and rested his forehead against Regulus’ and breathed out “so … they’re reciprocated then?”
Regulus couldn’t help but laugh.