Heavy Rings and Heavy Ivory Keys
A funny thing about life was it always had a way of pissing Regulus off. He’d been dealt bad cards, and seemed to only get more of them as time went on.
His fingers danced over the keys as the vocals rang through the headphones. He didn’t much care for musicals, but this one wasn’t terrible. It was called Impetus, about a young man discovering the thriving queer life in 1969 New York, as well as his own sexuality amidst the Stonewall Riots. It was a love story as well as a story of triumph and loss. It hit a few too many chords in Regulus for his liking, but he certainly wasn’t going to cry over it. It was a good musical, but very few things could move him to tears, and this was certainly not one of them.
Nevermind the fact that he’d locked himself in his room and refused to come out for two days after hearing ‘The Reflection of My Soul’ for the first time.
He met up with Barty, Evan, and Pandora a few hours before stizprobe.
Lunch was nice in the way Pandora and Regulus sat in peace as Barty and Evan went for each other’s throats. The four of them learned quickly that this dynamic worked well. Barty would say something rude, Evan would fire back, Pandora would remark how the planets’ alignments were causing the argument, and Regulus would say something dry that fueled the conflict. It was all good fun.
“—go shove your drumsticks up your ass.”
“Not unless you shove your cock up there first—“
“Do you think the musical will be good?” Pandora’s light question pulled Regulus away from Barty and Evan’s quasi-flirting.
“I suppose so.” He shrugged. “It’s written by Newt Scamanader. Big name—he got it for a reason.”
“But do you think it’ll be good?” Pandora mused. “The actors must sing well, but what if the story is terrible? You are going to have to see to it every night for several months.”
“Claim insanity and drop out if it ever starts bothering you.” Evan said, breaking away from the argument.
“Personally, I plan to smash my drum set mid-performance and get kicked out of the theater.” Barty grinned.
“I’ll just ram my head into the keys and kill myself.” Regulus said dryly. Barty and Evan cackled.
“This show better not be a bust.” Barty said more seriously. “2k a week for fuck knows how long. I plan on riding that wave as long as I can.”
——
Cadogan Theatre was one of the oldest Broadway theater houses in New York. The Impetus production designers used the building’s architecture to their favor—the moment Regulus stepped inside, he was transported straight into the sixties. The older designs were accented with bold and colorful walls. Mid-century modern furniture and bright circular lights filled the space.
It wasn’t Regulus’ style, but he could appreciate the dedication to accuracy.
The orchestra set up in the pit—there were only about ten other members, of which he was glad to see no other pianists. Barty was oiling his drumsticks, making an obscene jerking off motion while waggling his eyebrows at Regulus, who glared at him.
There were a few strings, some horns, and winds setting their things, and Regulus adjusted his bench to be as far away from everyone as possible. The last thing he wanted was spit from a trumpet getting anywhere near him.
The theater was grand and elegant—the beginnings of a late sixties New York street was onstage, and two fire escape towers that were set on wheels. There were also a line of music stands and chairs for the actors.
Speaking of, Regulus watched as the actors filtered into the theater, chatting loudly and obnoxiously as all actors did.
He eyed them with distaste, how they all dumped their belongings into seats like they weren’t disgracing a century old theater.
“Attention, everyone!” Ollivander, the conductor, announced. The actors quieted down. “We’ll begin in five minutes. Actors, if you wouldn’t mind getting onstage, if you please! Alastor will be here in a moment. Musicians!” He addressed the rest of them. “Tune and warm up!”
Regulus cracked his knuckles and adjusted his rings, quickly running some scales to ensure the piano was well tuned. He was angled directly in line of Ollivander’s spot and the stage, as many of the songs required his lead he needed to be able to follow both the conductor and actors. However, this also meant he was in plain sight of everyone.
Specifically, one of the actors. Regulus hadn’t even noticed him for a few minutes, not until he glanced up and saw bright brown eyes boring into his from the stage.
He was tall and built like an athlete, with warm brown skin and curly black hair that lay unkempt and unruly about his face. He had gold-framed round glasses that glinted under the lights, and simply would not look away from him.
Regulus narrowed his eyes—he looked exceedingly straight and almost out of place next to the rest of the obviously queer cast. It seemed rather insensitive of the casting directors to assign a straight man to play a gay role, but there was nothing Regulus could do about it but privately criticize the decision.
What was even more insensitive was the fact that the man refused to look away. Regulus stared back at him in challenge, wondering what the fuck was the guy’s problem—surely he knew how rude he was being? Why was he looking at him?
The doors to the theater suddenly slammed open, and a rough voice barked,
“Are we ready to start?”
The noise startled everyone except Regulus, who had spent far too many years accustomed to sudden frights. But the brown eyed boy finally looked away.
The director, Moody, marched down the aisle with a limp, glaring at them all with one good eye. The other was glass, and held his lids open slightly more than the other.
Regulus glanced over and saw Barty pulling his eyelid down and making a face to mock the man. He vaguely wondered how the hell he ended up becoming his friend.
“Whenever you are, Alastor.” Ollivander hummed. “From the top?”
“Actors!” Moody barked. “Dump your shit backstage next time! Patil, spit out that gum this instant! Do you want to choke trying to whistletone?”
“Yes sir!” The actors chorused. The woman named Patil quickly spat her gum out.
“Garrick!” Moody barked again. Ollivander raised a cool eyebrow at him. “I thought you said there would be a walkway between your musicians. The actors need to get to the aisle!”
“This is not a military base, Alastor.” Ollivander said primly. “There’s no need to run it like one. There will be a space made once scenic has completed their work. The actors don’t need to leave the stage during a stizprobe.”
“I know what a stizeprobe is.” Moody grunted, although the curtness in his tone was lessened. “Very well. Continue.”
“From the top, everyone. Actors, pay attention to your entries, but I will signal you in for tonight. And off we go!”
——
There was nothing like the harmonious union of instruments coming together. Everything flowed so smoothly, even moreso with the vocals added. Regulus’ fingers danced over the keys, perfecting following along the melody and the actors’ voices.
The man from earlier was one of the loudest of the singers, his words carrying powerfully across the theater. He had a wonderful voice, which only made Regulus dislike him more. Of course his singing sounded like liquid sunshine that mingled so lovely with the cool, elegant timbre of the piano.
After every song, they would stop and do notes before running it again. Moody barked and grumbled a few things along with Ollivander’s corrections, but mostly stayed surlily silent.
“Mr. Malfoy, could you please start from measure 64?” Ollivander asked. “Actors, begin at ‘this safe haven’. One, two, three—!”
The stizprobe went much the same. Regulus kept his eyes glued to his sheets or to Ollivander, but he could feel the heavy weight of the man’s gaze every now and then. He had no idea what the guy’s problem was, but he had no interest in finding out. Now, he only dreaded having to deal with him for the remainder of the production.
'The Reflection of My Soul' was the last song before dinner break, the solo piece of Simon’s sexual identity, and his conflicts within himself and the expectations of his family. Regulus’ fingers trembled slightly as they rested on the keys, waiting to begin.
The piece had nearly crippled him the first time he heard it. So his heart skipped another beat when he saw the actors closing their books, except for the brown eyed man.
He was playing Simon. The lead. This song was his solo, a duet with only the piano—with Regulus.
Fuck.
“Mr. Malfoy, whenever you’re ready.” Ollivander prompted. Regulus took a deep breath and willed his fingers to still. He counted to seven in his head and began the opening notes.
The song was gut wrenching. This was the moment Simon discovered his feelings for Leon, having hidden them away his entire life behind a wall of fear. He was mourning the loss of safety, of his family’s love, but couldn’t bear to ignore this part of him in favor of the things he was about to lose.
And the brown eyed man played the devastation, the grief, and the pure goodness of Simon’s heart—with masterful excellence. Mortifyingly, Regulus felt his throat getting tight as the song reached its peak—the moment where Simon holds a note far longer than the piano echoes—where the entire theater stands still.
The man held the note, his voice wrecked with the grief of his character, trembling with whatever rehearsed tears he had to muster. The piano’s notes faded, and the note continued for a few moments longer. When he ended, Regulus waited a beat before starting the next phrase.
“I can’t simply stare at my reflection, anymore.” The man finished the song, and Regulus had to look at him to time the ending of the notes. In that moment, their eyes met again, and something hot and prickly shot down his spine. Unfazed on the outside, Regulus lifted his chin and signaled with the guy the end, and they finished together.
Those eyes didn’t look away from him, not until Ollivander interrupted them.
“Splendid work, both of you! We’ll work on it as rehearsals continue, but I want to hear more projection from you, young man, and hold that pivotal note longer! Mr. Malfoy, I want you to sustain the last notes of the piece, simply let them fade away naturally. And hour break, everyone! Tino’s pizza in the green room!”
Regulus scratched a note onto his music, firmly ignoring everyone else moving around him, especially those on the stage. Pizza sounded disgusting to him—there was a sushi place not far from the theater that better suited his tastes.
His phone buzzed with a text from Pandora.
I’m at the sushi place we ate at last week. Care for dinner? Evan’s going to do a flash tattoo for Barty and I don’t care to see how they make it homoerotic.
Regulus couldn’t help his mouth twitching into a smile. Pandora had the oddest way of knowing exactly what was one people’s minds.
I’ll be there in ten.
As he left, Regulus could feel the gaze of the brown eyed man on his back once more.
——
Dinner with Pandora was lovely, mostly because she was a perfectly wonderful person who understood Regulus without needing to be told, but also because Barty and Evan weren’t around to bicker, flirt, or get them thrown out of the restaurant.
“How does the show sound?” Pandora asked as they ate.
“It’s fine.” Regulus replied with a shrug. “We’re only through the first act. And we haven’t heard the dialogue. I suppose I won’t know if the show’s truly good for a few weeks.”
“But it doesn’t make you want to grind your face into a brick wall yet?”
“Not yet, no.”
Pandora hummed again, too light and neutral to be entirely innocent. Regulus narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“You jus seem…affected, somehow.”
“Affected?” Regulus scoffed, stabbing at his sushi in a completely improper manner. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you have to take it out on your nigiri?”
“It’s one of the stupid actors.” He finally grit out. “The fucker keeps staring at me. I don’t know what his problem is. It’s pissing me off.”
Pandora set down her chopsticks and folded her hands.
“You think he knows you’re trans.”
“Well, why else would he be staring?” Regulus snapped. “He probably thinks I’m some sort of freak.”
“Regulus,” She said patiently. “he’s in a show about queer people, working with queer people, and playing a queer person. The odds of him being transphobic are slim to none.”
“But never zero.” He countered. “He looks at me the same way people look at Lupin. And I know what they’re thinking when they see him. That pisses me off too. And I can see it in his eyes—“
“Do you think,” Pandora interrupted calmly. “perhaps he’s staring because he finds you attractive?”
Regulus, who had been angrily ranting at his nigiri, froze to gape at her.
“Him?” He demanded. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Pandora, I have never see someone so straight in my entire life.” Regulus said firmly. “There isn’t a gay bone in that guy’s body.”
“How do you know? You haven’t even spoken to him.”
“Believe me. If you’d see him, you’d think so too. He’s probably got a girlfriend, maybe even a wife.”
The thought of that only made Regulus angrier.
“He’s probably just got this role as his big break and he’s just dealing with the fact that it’s a queer role that should go to a queer person rather than some stupid looking guy who’ll go home to his perfect life and perfect girlfriend—“
Pandora gently took away his plate, stopping him from continuing to stab his fish to pieces.
“Perhaps before you go on condemning him, you should learn more about him to condemn?”
Regulus glared at her, and she stared back at him, unfazed. In truth, he really didn’t know why he was so angry. The man was a complete stranger who had a staring problem. All Regulus had to do was pretend his didn’t exist beyond the confines of the theater. He had no idea why this guy was aggravating him so much.
He deflated a little. It was stupid and trivial to get this upset over a stranger. It’s not like Regulus ever had to talk to him. He was just the pianist—anything they needed to talk about would be said through Ollivander.
“Give me my nigiri back, please.” He grumbled. Pandora slid it back over.
“You’ve got to be heading back soon.” She reminded him. “Learn more about him, or ignore him, Regulus. If he tries anything untoward, kick him in the balls.”
——
The last half of the night went by a little smoother. Regulus kept his eyes firmly fixed on his music, looking only at Ollivander when necessary. Even when he had another duet with the brown eyed man, he looked at his conductor for the ending cues rather than onstage.
He was just a vocal he had to keep time with. Regulus didn’t need to look at him.
The final song of the show took place nearly sixty years after the riots that the plot centered around, when the bar was reopened and the first US LGBTQ visitor’s center established.
“We’ve always been here, throughout history,” the entire cast sang. Regulus felt the tightness in his throat return. “no darkness, no cruelty, can dampen the glory, of the people before us, and the people that will be, they’ll all find a home here—on Christopher street.”
He finished the song with a flourish of keys, and everyone in the room felt the weight of the night lift. It was nearly midnight, and exhaustion was evident.
“Excellent work, everyone!” Ollivander applauded. “We’ll leave notes for tomorrow, it’s been a long night. Thank you all for you hard work. Musicians, you are free to go. Alastor, the actors are all yours.”
“Go home.” Moody grunted, who had definitely fallen asleep a few times throughout the evening. “Call tomorrow at 6.”
Regulus was already packing up his things, eager to get home and sleep.
He was quickly sliding his music sheets into his bag, hoping to slip out before anyone tried to reel him into a conversation—
Crash!
Everyone looked around and several gasped at the sound of someone falling against the piano directly behind Regulus, which made an almost comical mess of notes as the person landed on the keys. He whirled around to see the brown eyed man lying on his back right behind him, having evidently slipped on a rogue sheet of music.
Several people immediately asked if he was alright, and one of the actors quickly gave him a hand up. He accepted with thanks, but his eyes barely left Regulus.
He was even more beautiful up close. The distance between them earlier hadn’t allowed Regulus to note the golden tint in his eyes, or his long lashes, or the little freckle on his cheek—which was currently tinged pink. There was also a large red welt on his forehead where he’d hit the piano.
“You, uh,” the man said, biting his lip against a sheepish smile. Regulus hated it vehemently. “you dropped this.” He held out the sheet of music he’d slipped on as if there wasn’t a large shoe print stamped on it that made the notes almost illegible.
“I’m James, by the way.” The guy said, sticking out his other hand that looked warm and strong and like something Regulus wanted on his skin. “James Potter.”
It took him a few more moments to shake himself out of his own mortification. Everyone in the theater was staring at them.
Civility. He reminded himself, angry that even the guy’s stupid hand was distracting, and that his stupid head had hit his piano and caused everyone to look at them. You have to see him for the next year. Cold but civil.
“Regulus Malfoy.” He replied primly, shaking his hand twice before letting go swiftly. “If you would excuse me.”
He snatched the music sheet from him and sped towards the door.
“See you tomorrow!” James Potter called after him, cheerily and full of genuinely eagerness. Regulus had no idea how he could act like that after such an embarrassing fall.
He hated him for it.
——
As the weeks passed and rehearsals continued, Regulus came to the decision to take Pandora’s advice and learn James’ character.
What he found somehow irked him even more than his previous assumptions of the man.
James was single, only two years older than him, bisexual, and seemingly the most annoyingly nice person Regulus had ever encountered. He knew everyone’s names, knew of their families and pets and asked after them every time he saw them. He brought everyone donuts one night because Ollivander had warned them it was going to run long and he wanted to keep moral up. He was the first to comfort an actor when they had a meltdown, and actually kept candies in his bag like a grandmother that he would whip out during these occasions.
James was clearly not only the lead of the show, but the leader of the cast. Even more aggravatingly, he was never arrogant about it. He never abused that power or took advantage of his influence, except to help someone else. The only time Regulus ever witnessed him using such for gain was to charm Moody into giving one of the actors the evening off, as her rabbit had just died. He even offered to sing her harmonies.
Regulus was finding it extremely hard to hate him for his previous assumptions, especially now that they were all deemed false.
The discovery of James’ bisexuality was completely by accident. Regulus had been trying to find the bathroom, praying the men’s was empty so he could piss, and stopped just outside the door to the sound of voices.
“—seeing anyone, Potter?”
“Not for a few years, Kingsley. Too busy. But I dated plenty during college. I don’t mind the break.”
“Word is Longbottom’s got a thing for you.”
“Frank?” James chuckled. “I’m flattered. That guy could get anyone he wanted.”
“Seems he wants you. You gonna go for it?”
“Nah, not my type.”
“Straight?”
That only made James laugh harder. “Me? Kingsley, I’m about a straight as a slinky. Frank’s just not my type.”
At this point, Regulus moved away, having heard enough. So he couldn’t even be mad at him for taking a queer role as a straight man because James was very clearly not straight.
These new discoveries about him only added fuel to his ire. Because now the problem was that James seemed inhumanely perfect in every single way. Regulus had been observing him quietly for weeks and couldn’t find a single flaw in him.
He continued to catch the perfect man staring at him, although far less frequently now that dancing and acting were being added to the music. The actors had ditched their music stands and chairs and started working on choreography.
Olympe Maxime was an impressively tall and graceful woman who didn’t take shit from Moody and treated Ollivander like he was her grandfather. She demanded the strict attention of the actors at all times, and in her presence were the only moments James didn’t look at Regulus.
Adding to the annoying long list of perfections, Regulus noted that James Potter was a good dancer. There was a practiced elegance in the way he moved, a confidence in each swing and twist of his body that indicated he’d done it before.
“Mister Crouch!” Maxime called in her heavy French accent. “A tempo, please! One, two, three, one, two three…!”
Regulus smirked over at Barty, who hit his drum dully with a look of incredible boredom on his face. Maxime had been pestering him every rehearsal on beats, and he looked on the verge of stabbing either himself or the choreographer with his sticks.
When the evening drew to a close and everyone packed up their things, Regulus did one last glance around the room and realized James was nowhere to be seen. He usually spent the end of rehearsal making rounds and staying goodbye to everyone in sight—Regulus had been making it a point to disappear before he made it to him—but today he was gone.
Frowning, he lifted his head a little higher to see if he was crouched over—
“Looking for me?”
Caught off guard yet again, Regulus whirled around to see James behind him yet again.
“Do you enjoy scaring me from behind like a creep?” He asked haughtily, shoving his music into his bag and pretending he hadn’t been nosily looking for him like a creep a mere moment ago.
“Sorry,” James said and annoyingly enough, he sounded genuine about it. “so…were you?”
“Was I what?”
“Looking for me?”
Regulus glared at him, annoyed that his subtle detections had been found out.
“You’re an egotistic one.” He said instead.
“You’ve been doing it for three weeks now.” James insisted.
“You started it.” Regulus fired back petulantly.
“You played along.”
His cheeks were starting to prickle with an embarrassed flush, and Regulus wanted to claw his skin off.
“What do you want, Potter?” He grunted, swinging on his jacket and jamming his arms through the sleeves.
“Do you want to get dinner sometime?”
The question was so shocking Regulus didn’t notice the collar of his jacket was askew. He froze, staring at James, mouth slightly agape.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
James rubbed the back of his neck, looking nervous—the first time he’d ever seen him in such a state. “Yeah, a date.”
“No. I don’t date.” Regulus said immediately. “I’m far too busy.”
“Then we just go grab a bite to eat during dinner break.”
Regulus narrowed his eyes.
“That sounds like a date.”
“But it doesn’t have to be.” James offered eagerly. “There’s a decent burger joint not far from here—“ He cut himself off upon noticing the wrinkle of Regulus’ nose, something he hadn’t even realized he was doing.
“Or we could go somewhere fancy.” He switched tactics immediately. “The Ritz or The Delacour are only a block from here—“
“You can’t walk into The Delacour in your rehearsal clothes!”
But James was grinning.
“So the only problem with the idea of getting dinner with me is my clothes?” He asked hopefully. Regulus spluttered at him, tripping up through several snide comments and responses but unable to land on one.
“You won’t regret it.” James promised, his eyes bright and shining with eagerness.
“I’m sure I will.” He managed to get out, but it was breathy and lack any real conviction.
“Won’t know for sure til you do it.” He countered, grinning with entirely too much glee. Regulus huffed, snapping his mouth shut and gathering himself.
“What I do know for sure is it will be highly entertaining watching you get barred at the front doors of The Delacour for that sweatsuit you always wear.” He grunted, folding his arms.
“It’s a date then! 8 o’clock tomorrow!” James said cheerfully.
“It’s not a date.” Regulus said forcefully.
“Of course.” James took a step closer to him, entering Regulus’ personal space. The action, added with the sight of seeing such radiant perfection up close, took his breath away. His tightly crossed arms loosely slightly.
Gently, with far too much comfortability for the vagueness of their relationship, James reached up and fixed Regulus’ collar. His knuckle brushed the delicate, pale skin of his neck, and goosebumps erupted all over his body.
“I know you like having the collar turned up.” He murmured with twinkling eyes, his voice rumbling in a way that made Regulus want to shiver. “Goodnight, Regulus.”
And he left him standing here, dizzy and stunned, aching for the warmth that was walking away from him.