Regulus hates him.
Regulus will kill him - He’ll make certain of it.
He truly can’t comprehend how Lupin can find him tolerable- let alone… fancy him.
Not only did Sirius have the audacity to sneak away from the Gryffindor’s Quidditch match to tamper with the Slytherin locker room showers—which became glaringly obvious after the game. When the Slytherin Quidditch team; usually adorned in various shades of silver and green stomped back onto the pitch covered head-to-toe in what seemed to be a concoction of dye, paint, and glitter charmed to alternate between an obnoxious gold and Gryffindor red.
It turned into quite the spectacle and all it took was one snotty quip from a red-faced Slytherin beater about “nasty blood traitors” before an all-out brawl broke out between the teams. Regulus took the opportunity to slip away from the crowd while everyone was distracted and headed back to the dungeons to start his Transfiguration essay due next week. Only to discover that while his brother had been frolicking around the castle during his childish escapade he managed to break into the Slytherin dormitory. Thankfully, not to vandalize it with juvenile messages on the wall about Gryffindor's superiority like last year, but to leave a note on Regulus’ pillow. If the mess he left in his haste was any indication it was written using Regulus’ expensive quill—messily scrawled in his brand new ink—on Regulus’ piece of parchment.
Reggie,
Before you throw this into the black lake and have a temper tantrum about me using your stuff. Please! Grant me two minutes of your “busy schedule” to explain my reasons for committing such an atrocity as to borrow your precious school appliances.
This letter is of the utmost importance, it’s urgent, it’s imperative, it’s life-or-death, it’s- whatever the fuck! Do you remember when we were younger and I took the blame for eating those pumpkin pasties that you stole from Kreacher’s stash? Well, I do! And you promised me a favor. You said whatever I wanted, no questions asked. All you need to know right now is that I am holding you to your debt. I’m cashing in that favor now, see you soon!
- Use the strongest notice-me-not charm you can cast.
- Make your way through the Gryffindor common room and into the boy’s dormitory.
- Find Remus, Mine, James, and, Peter’s room and wait for me there
Also! bring some chocolate with you! I know you can find some somewhere. The password is Beady Billywigs.
— Sincerely, The More Handsome Brother
So here Regulus was, sitting on his brother's unmade bed with a bag of every flavor of truffle ever produced after risking his life tiptoeing through the Lion’s Den in broad daylight under a disillusionment charm.
And Sirius had the gall not to show up, after writing an alarming letter that—in hindsight was probably severely dramatized but in the moment almost gave Regulus heart palpitations—he just decided to make Regulus sit here alone for the past thirty-four minutes and fifteen seconds.
It wasn’t as if he could just go back to his bed and tell Sirius to screw himself— like he had been tempted to do once he realized he’d been forgotten, because Sirius was using his favor for this. The same favor Regulus promised him seven years ago that Sirius had dangled over his head every day since. Regulus was five seconds away from bashing his head open against the wood of Sirius’ bedpost when the door flew open and the faint noise of conversation filtered in from the common room.
“Oh! Padfoot said you’d probably be in here. I assumed he was just taking the piss but look at you!”
There he stood in all his irritating glory, James Fucking Potter.
Who immediately began strutting around the room like he owned the place. (In his defense, he does own the place, this is his room. Regardless, it still annoyed Regulus to his very core.) Potter was still wearing his perfectly tailored Quidditch kit covered in grass stains, mud, and…glitter?
“This is great actually! That you’re here, I mean.” James said, grabbing a red jumper that was previously hanging off the side of his bed and throwing it over his shoulder.
“…It is?” His mind was reeling, a thousand different questions seemed to be rattling around his skull while simultaneously his mind was wholly blank and his ears seemed to fill with cotton.
“Of course it is! I heard from Pads that you’re trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team and I wanted to give you a few tips. We should totally start practicing together before games!”
His smile was far too warm, his lips looked too soft and his teeth were too white. His hair was sticking straight in every direction and looked more unkempt than usual, but now, color-changing red and gold glitter desperately clung to every strand of his inky black hair creating the illusion that he was being showered in a ray of sunlight. Warm bronze skin stretched nicely over strong muscles as Potter raised an arm over his head pulling off his shirt, throwing it on his bed, and revealing more. Showing off more warm skin and more muscles and more glitter—Merlin, he was covered in glitter.
Regulus was dying.
That was the only explanation for how quickly his throat went dry while his mouth filled with saliva. His face felt hot, his stomach seemed to fill with a million little spiders, and he couldn’t string together a clever response to Potter’s ridiculous statement. He could only stutter like a fool until he eventually murmured a strained,
“What the fuck is happening here?”
“Hm?” Cocking his head to the side and furrowing his eyebrows James’ curious gaze landed on Regulus from across the room.
Regulus quickly broke eye contact to look down at the bag of chocolates in his hands. Picking at the fabric of his trousers, silently praying Potter's short attention span would kick in causing him to break off into a rant about Quidditch statistics and stop looking at him. Regulus paused his fidgeting moments later once all the symptoms of his sudden illness clicked into place and made him aware of the answer. It was so obvious in fact Regulus was ashamed he didn’t figure it out the second the Gryffindor walked into the room.
Of course, Regulus had only read about it in books or would occasionally overhear Pandora wistfully ramble on and on about it while they studied, but he didn’t think it would ever happen to him of all people.
Clearly, a colony of invisible parasites had decided he was the perfect candidate to use as a host. His impressive magical core and the ancient pure blood running through his veins made the offer too enticing for the magic-leeching insects not to feed off of him.
They had most likely remained dormant in his intestines until Regulus inhaled the sugary sweet scent of Potter’s cologne; effectively re-awakening them. They made his skin itchy and hot to the touch as Potter stepped closer to Sirius’ bed, the muscles of his toned stomach and biceps flexing and shifting with every step. He made a mental note to visit Madam Pomfrey about this after he killed Sirius.