Chapter 6
James curled his fingers around the worn oak handle of his broomstick. He’d had it for years now, and the wood had grown smooth from years of touch. The Quidditch game was due to begin any minute now, and James’s nerves were getting the best of him.
This was the first game he was playing against Slytherin after becoming friends with Regulus. At least, he thought they were friends. He hoped they were friends.
“All right team. It’s time, this is it. This is our game, yeah? And we’re going to crush Slytherin.” Frank said, looking around the room at the faces of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. There was a murmur of agreement, and James nodded trying to ignore the queasiness in his gut. Sirius gave him an excited grin, nearly bouncing with all his unconstrained energy.
The team walked out onto the pitch, snow crunching beneath their shoes. The Slytherin team was already waiting, their green robes clashing against the white backdrop. James could just make out a head of black curls among the rest of the Slytherins. He’d never really realized just how short Regulus was until then, but he was. Regulus, for all his might and haughty demeanor, was nearly a head shorter than everyone else. This brought a stupid grin to James’s face as he made his way onto the field.
The Gryffindors and Slytherins shook hands before the game began, and then they were off. As soon as James kicked off, he felt his nerves disappear. Flying did that to him, calmed his busy mind.
The game was wonderful. He and Mary were unstoppable together, and the Slytherin chasers could barely keep up. James scored time and time again, wind in his hair, cheeks flushed, blood pumping through his veins. He was alive, and how lovely it was to be so.
Sirius was wonderful too, hitting every bludger away from the Gryffindor team. He saved James a few too many times to count, knocking the red ball away from James's head. They grinned at each other before dashing off once more.
Regulus was flying circles around the pitch, his sharp eyes glancing all around. James had been looking at him more often than he’d like to admit, and then pretending that he hadn’t been.
Regulus could tell though, he smirked whenever he saw James’s eyes linger. It really wasn’t James’s fault, his eyes just wandered there of their own accord. It was like this when James met new people. He couldn’t help but watch them, wanting to know everything about them. Each time he did, he told himself not to and yet here he was.
James had just passed the quaffle to Mary when he heard a quiet voice behind him.
“You’re playing good, Potter.”
James pivoted on his broom, coming face to face with Regulus. He grinned, “As are you, Black.”
Someone was yelling his name across the pitch, but all the noise faded as he looked at Regulus. His stormy eyes were bright in the white light reflected off the snow.
“Can’t help but notice you’ve been watching me.” Regulus said, making lazy circles on his broom. He was quite a good flyer, really. “Am I that attractive?”
James winked, “You know it.” Somehow the words felt heavier than they would if he’d said the same thing to one of his other friends. James shook it off, “Can’t help it, Reg. It’s those eyes, I just swoon.”
Regulus smirked, and then, lightning fast, his hand shot out to the air behind James’s ear. For one stupid second James thought he was going to touch his hair, but no. Regulus, the little shit, had caught the snitch.
Regulus gave him a self satisfied grin before darting off to his teammates. They engulfed him in a giant hug as he landed on the ground, snitch held high in his outstretched hand.
The Gryffindor team flew to where James was hovering above the ground.
“You idiot! You fucking idiot! Did you not hear me yelling?” Mary shouted, and Frank had to physically restrain her from tackling James out of the sky.
“Okay, calm down. It’s just a Quidditch game. If we beat Ravenclaw we still have a chance of winning.” Frank said, diplomatically, though his eyebrows were drawn together.
Alice flew to James’s side, “What’d the tiny Black say to you anyway?”
James shook his head. “Nothing, just some stupid insult.”
Alice raised her eyebrow, “Looked like you were both grinning.”
James ignored Alice’s comment, and Sirius's eyes he could feel on his back. “I’m sorry guys, I don’t know what came over me. Next game, I promise. It’ll be better, I’m sorry,” He said again.
“Yeah right. Head in the fucking game Potter. No matter what shit baby Black goes on about, head in the game.” Mary said, looking downright distraught.
Usually James would be too, but for some reason, he couldn’t even be that mad at Regulus.
…
Slytherins sure knew how to throw an after party. Usually Regulus could slip away from them, but since he’d caught the snitch, he was stuck. He was on his third firewhiskey about thirty minutes in. Usually, Slytherins wouldn’t give out alcohol to anyone under sixteen, but the Quidditch team had a free pass.
Regulus smiled politely at the girls gathered around him. They were talking about Quidditch, but the words weren’t quite making it into his head. It was all a bit hazy. He could see Barty smirking at him from where he was sitting on the couch, Evan draped over Barty’s lap. That only ever happened when they were drunk, like they couldn’t bear to be seen that close together sober. Anyone who had eyes could see that they liked each other, but neither of them acted on it. Probably because the Slytherin house wasn’t the most… welcoming.
“And the way you grabbed the snitch from right behind his ear – god, it was impressive. You could play nationally or something,” A girl giggled beside him.
Regulus just nodded, “Um, yeah, thanks. Hey, I gotta go talk to Evan about something.” He pushed past them quickly, catching a glimpse of their crest fallen faces.
He didn’t go to talk to Evan. Instead he slipped out of the common room and into the cool hallway. The bottle in Regulus’s hand was growing warm, and he quickly swallowed the rest of the liquid, gasping a bit as it slid down his throat. What would his mother think of him now?
It was getting late, but Regulus continued to walk anyway. His head was pounding, and his legs seemed unsteady beneath him. He hid it well, though. He’d been given drinks at parties since he was five or so. Too young, probably, but what did that matter to the noble house of Black? So Regulus knew how to hide it, knew how to handle it.
He made his way to the kitchens. Usually he’d go to the astronomy tower, but he always had an irrational fear when he was drunk of falling off of it. When Regulus had a few drinks he seemed to lose his mind a bit. His brain would just wander off. So, he didn’t go to the astronomy tower. Plus, he’d really like some company, and the elves were nice.
If only James were here. He shook the thought off, stupid, stupid, stupid. James didn’t even care about him.
He’d been staring at him, though.
It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It did.
The house elves were excited to see him, they always were.
“Welcome, welcome master Black!” Squeaked one of them. “Can we get you anything? Tea? Crumpets? There’s cake, fresh out of the oven!” Said another.
He smiled, the warm glow of the kitchens always relaxed his hazy mind. “No, no I’m alright. Thank you, Wigby, and thanks Penny. I just came to visit.”
“Of course, of course Mister Regulus. You be sitting down, yes? The fire is warm, and we have butterbeer!” They brought him a wooden stool and a glass full of warm golden liquid. Regulus sat down, staring at the flames.
“You is looking a little pale. Is everything all right, Master Black?” Said Wigby, an old elf who’d worked in the kitchens for longer than Regulus had been alive.
“I’ve told you to call me Regulus, I’m not your master. Yes, I’m well. Just tired, don’t worry about me, Wigby.” He said, sipping the butterbeer slowly.
Wigby gave him a doubtful look, but just handed him a pastry before shuffling off. The elves bustled around him, handing him sweets and breads. One gave him a blanket, another slippers for his feet.
He talked to Tobbs for a few minutes about cooking and the similarities between it and potions. Tobbs was nice, and always came over to talk when Regulus visited. They all did that, and their warm cheer made Regulus feel more human than he had in a long while.
An hour or so later the door creaked open. James Potter, gold glasses slightly lopsided, stuck his head through the doorway, grinning like a fool.
“Oh! Master Potter, welcome! Food, drink? We have cakes, and pastries, and butterbeer and—”
“Thanks, but I’m okay for now. No party tonight,” James said, winking at the house elf who’d come to greet him.
Regulus didn’t know what to say. He felt slightly out of his element, a quilt wrapped around his shoulders and butterbeer clenched in his warm hands.
“How’d you know I was here?” Was all he could manage to say.
James winked again, “I have my ways. Where’d you get the blanket? It’s pretty.”
Regulus blinked. He’d expected him to talk about the Quidditch game. “Oh. One of the house elves gave it to me.”
James sat down on a stool a house elf had quickly brought over, “Thanks. Hey, not to be a bother, but do you have any more of those blankets? They look absolutely splendid.”
The house elf practically melted under James’s warm smile. Regulus would’ve been annoyed, but he was sure he did the same.
A few minutes later, the two were wrapped in blankets sitting silently in front of the crackling fire together.
“I read the book.” James said, not looking at Regulus, eyes still fixed on the fire.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It was good. I was confused at some parts. It felt kind of like a river, you know? The story just flowed on but never went any particular direction.” He paused, looking contemplative, “Not in a bad way, though. It was nice, and good. Not really something I’d expect from you.”
“Well, you don’t know me all that well, Potter.” Regulus said, suddenly defensive. He didn’t mean to be, it just happened sometimes.
James laughed. “I’d like to though. Nice annotations, by the way.”
Regulus glanced over at him, but James seemed serious. “Really?”
James nodded, pulling a book out of his robes. He opened it, flipping through the pages. “Like here, you underlined, ‘this whole goddamn house stinks of ghosts. I don’t mind so much being haunted by a dead ghost, but I resent like hell being haunted by a half-dead one’. You wrote next to it, ‘the ghost is you, the ghost is me, the ghost is all the memories of who we used to be. I resent all the ghosts, but I resent myself the most.’”
His words in James’s mouth felt like a particular form of heartbreak.
“I remember.” Regulus said, and he did. He’d read it the summer before, right after Sirius had left. Sirius, the half-dead ghost haunting the Black manor. But, really, it was him who was the half-dead ghost after Sirius had left. He’d become quiet and reserved, more dead than alive.
James tilted his head, looking down at the book. “I like that. It’s really lovely writing. ‘The ghost is all the memories of who we used to be’. That’s good, Regulus, really good.” He paused, eyes scanning the page. When he spoke next, his voice was so quiet Regulus could barely hear it over the commotion of the kitchen, “I wish you didn’t resent yourself, though. I think you’re lovely, Reg.”
And oh- that went through his heart like an arrow. I think you’re lovely, Reg.
He doesn’t mean it like that . Regulus reminded himself. He doesn’t mean it like that.
“Yeah, well. Not much you can do to change that. I forgot that I wrote that.” Regulus said, unsure of how to respond.
James smiled gently, “You wrote a lot of nice stuff.” He glanced at Regulus, his eyes sincere, “I know I can’t change it, but I can try.”
Regulus inhaled softly. Oh, that bastard. Why was he so pretty? Why was he so kind? They barely knew each other. “We all try, Potter. We all fail.”
James laughed, shaking his dark brown curls out of his face. Pretty, pretty, pretty. The firelight cast his face in a soft warm glow. It made him look radiant, like the sun that he was.
Stop, Regulus reminded himself, he doesn’t feel the same. He will never feel the same. Just stop.
James chattered on, talking about his favorite line in the book (“I like ‘I can’t be running back and forth between grief and high delight forever’. There’s something, I don’t know, just bright about that line. True, I guess. It feels true.”), and which character was his favorite (“The cat, Bloomberg of course! I’m not crazy.”), and how much he enjoyed the writing style (“It’s very straight forward, but still poetic. I don’t know if I’m making any sense. I liked it though, it felt different than everything I’ve ever read.”).
Regulus suggested he read the Catcher in the Rye next, and James’s eyes went wide.
“Do you have it? I’d love to read it.”
So they agreed that Regulus would bring it the next night for James to read. Finally, hours later, Regulus realized his back was stiff from sitting unsupported for so long. The elves were preparing breakfast, which, according to the clock, was only an hour away.
“Damn, I have to get ready.” Regulus said, standing and setting his blanket on the stool. The hours always slipped by when he was talking with James. He felt safe in a way he hadn’t felt since Sirius had left. Before that actually.
“Of course! Merlin, it’s already so late in the day. Or early in the morning? One of the two.” James said, eyes alight with mischief. He stretched and yawned, and Regulus tried not to stare.
They said their goodbyes, to each other and to the elves, who, despite breakfast being soon, stuffed their hands full with food.
And in spite of Regulus’s awful headache from the firewhiskey, it was a good night. Well, morning, really. One of the two.