The Prettiest Star

Regulus was at a Gryffindor party. Dancing. The lengths he would go too for James Potter truly knew no bounds. 

He was with Pandora, already a little drunk. She was wearing a short dress made of shiny light green material with large, bell-shaped sleeves and a green headband to match. She had on a pair of white-rimmed round sunglasses and tall, white, plastic boots. She looked like something out of a muggle catalogue, though her white, plastic dragonfly earrings fluttered their wings as she moved, and Regulus had a feeling she’d worked some kind of magic on her dress too so that it shimmered under the lights. 

“Evan!” she trilled brightly as Regulus spun her around. Evan joined them on the dance floor, his still, looming figure sticking out among the moving bodies. 

“Moon water?” he asked, offering Pandora a flask. The cousins always made their own - often strange - drinks. She took a long sip and held it out to Regulus, who shook his head. He was eager to get back to dancing. 

“Who are you dancing for?” asked Evan over the music. Regulus pretended not to have heard, cupping his ear in feigned deafness. “Who are you dancing for, Reg?” repeated Evan in a louder voice. He clearly had no qualms in asking twice.

“Me, of course,” smiled Pandora, swooping in for a rescue. Evan only shook his head in response. 

He said something else, but the music had been turned up too loud, and this time Regulus really couldn't hear him. Pandora tried to coax Evan into dancing, but he wasn’t having it, not yet, anyway. He returned to stand stoically at the side of the common room, and Regulus and Pandora resumed their dancing, moving in time to the music. 

Regulus was waiting for James. He did a lot of that, these days. And Evan had been right, he was dancing for James too, just waiting for him to see and come up. Regulus wanted to be noticed, in his black muggle t-shirt (the one he’d borrowed from Barty), and his silver rings, and the smudged, black line he’d drawn underneath each of his eyes. He wanted to be noticed more than anything, so when Pandora seemed to see someone familiar behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, Regulus’ heart soared. He turned around, trying to keep his composure, ready to see familiar messy hair and golden glasses, only to find Sirius.

Of course. Of course Sirius had come up to him, presumably to kick him out, or to make some comment. Of course Sirius was at the first Gryffindor party of the year, dressed in some strange getup despite no one else being in costume. 

“What?” asked Regulus bluntly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. 

“I…I just came to say… I wanted to…”

Regulus looked at him scathingly. Wanted to what? he thought viciously. 

“Can’t you see I’m trying to have fun?” he retorted. Sirius frowned, the soft surprise from earlier falling away from his face. 

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. 

“Dancing,” Regulus shot back, feeling tense. He was allowed to go to any party he liked, Gryffindor or not, what right did his brother have to–

“Dancing?” repeated Sirius, sounding as though he could barely believe it. Regulus had just about had enough of those comments. 

“Yes,” he retorted, gritting his teeth, “And I’d appreciate it if you could leave me to it.” 

Sirius gaped at him. Regulus didn’t understand why he was so shocked. What had he expected in coming up to him like that? 

“Fine!”said Sirius, his voice rising several octaves, and Regulus could see he was upset. “Dance all you fucking want!”

“I will,” he replied, trying not to snap. He had a feeling Sirius wanted to stay and argue with him, but he seemed almost too upset for that. Go away, Regulus wanted to add, but he knew better. After a few tense moments, Sirius skulked off into the party, Regulus frowning after him. 

Luckily, the next person to come up to him was James. It had taken him long enough. 

“What are you doing here?” asked James, but he didn’t ask it in the way Sirius had, like Regulus didn’t belong there. He sounded surprised, yes, but pleasantly so. Regulus had to stop himself from grinning. 

“I thought I’d stop by,” he replied. 

“Well,” breathed James almost reverently, “I’m glad you did.”

Regulus only smiled. 

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Trying to get me drunk, Potter?” he teased. 

“You’re not already?” joked James. 

“Alright then. What drinks do you have?” conceded Regulus. James led him over to the makeshift bar, and he followed. 

“We have beer, but I feel like you’re not a beer drinker…”

“Correct,” replied Regulus. 

“Firewhisky?” 

“I think I’ve already had enough of that,” he said shyly. 

“Something lighter then…” mused James, “D’you want a vodka cranberry?” 

“That’s not lighter,” laughed Regulus. 

“I’ll be light on the vodka, heavy on the cranberry juice,” defended James, “Anyway, it just seemed like your kind of drink.” 

“It is,” admitted Regulus. It was. 

“Aha!” exclaimed James happily, and Regulus tried not to giggle. “So you’ll have one?”

“Yes, please.” 

James set about mixing the drink, and, true to his word, he was very light on the vodka, and very heavy on the cranberry juice. If anything, Regulus preferred them that way. He liked to taste the juice more than the alcohol. 

“There you are,” said James once he was done, “One vodka cranberry.”

Regulus thanked him and took the cup, a green one, he noted. He took a sip, watching James over the rim. 

“How’d I do?” 

“It’s light,” Regulus said appreciatively. “You’re not having anything?”

“Oh, I’m alright, thanks,” was the response. 

“You really are trying to get me drunk!” accused Regulus. 

“I’m not!” insisted James, “You asked me for a drink, I made you a drink. Although… I have to admit I’m kind of curious as to what you’d be like drunk.” 

“I knew it,” seethed Regulus, biting his cheek against a smile, “You’re getting me drunk.” James rolled his eyes emphatically.

“I only said I was curious.” 

“Well I’m already drunk,” Regulus told him, “So you already know what I’m like.” 

“Yes,” agreed James, “Very smiley. And a dancer.”

“There you go,” said Regulus, no longer hiding his smile - he’d been caught anyway.  

“Oh, I forgot! I got you a present!” exclaimed James. 

“A..a present?” echoed Regulus, more than a little surprised. 

“I hope that’s ok,” said James, “I was going to give it to you tomorrow when I saw you, but you’re here now, so…”

“I’d love to have it now,” Regulus filled in, not sure what had come over him. It was worth it when James’ face split into one of his blinding grins. 

“It’s in my dorm, do you want to…?” 

His dorm. So Sirius’ dorm. James left it unsaid, but Regulus knew that he wanted him to come up with him, whether Sirius (or Remus, or Peter) was there or not. Regulus had no intention of seeing Sirius a second time that night though. 

“I’ll just… I… I’ll wait for you here.” 

“Ok,” said James, though he sounded a little disappointed. 

Regulus offered him an encouraging smile, and James nodded, as if to himself, before hurrying up the stairs. Regulus waited patiently with his drink, watching over the common room. He could see Evan sulking by the wall, and Barty was off with someone else, and Pandora was dancing with Dorcas now, while Marlene McKinnon looked as though she was itching to go over to them. Regulus finished his drink and set the cup on the bar with the rest of them. James came bounding back down the stairs, holding a bag of something in his hand, and Regulus surveyed his approach with growing anticipation. 

“Here!” he announced giddily, handing it over to Regulus, “I know there’s not really any occasion but I was in Hogsmeade and I just kind of thought of you and I— Well, I hope it’s alright.”

Regulus had opened the bag to reveal several packets of Honeydukes sugar quills. He gaped at them, then looked up at James.

“You remembered,” he said softly, feeling impossibly fond. 

“Well, of course,” replied James, who was still a little nervous. Regulus shot him a smile. 

“Thank you,” he told James, and then, “I think I’ll have one now.” 

And he did. He took one out of the bag and began to suck on the end of it as James watched on. 

“How come they’re your favourite?” he asked. 

“My mother never let me have them,” he confessed, “Still wouldn’t, I suppose, but I stopped asking by the time I was six.” 

“I’ll get them for you whenever you like,” said James in a great rush. Regulus laughed a little. 

“That’s ok,” he smiled, “I can get them for myself, too,” he paused to suck on the sweet again, “Besides, if I have too many I’ll rot my teeth.” 

James grinned at him lopsidedly. 

“They make my mouth taste like sugar,” continued Regulus drunkenly. He looked up at James innocently. “Would you like to try?” 

Now it was James’ turn to gape. He stumbled around for something to say, and Regulus tried not to laugh. 

“The quills, James,” he admonished. 

“I knew that,” began James in a flustered manner, then his eyes lit up in realisation, “You called me James!”

“So?” returned Regulus, although he knew. He knew exactly what James meant. 

“You never call me James,” he grinned, “You always say Potter.” 

“Well you can never seem to say Regulus,” he replied, though he wasn’t as embarrassed as he would have been sober, “It’s always Reg or Reggie with you.” 

This seemed to stump James.

“Yeah, but that’s different,” he said eventually. 

“Sure,” Regulus deadpanned, and then, “So would you like one?” 

He held the bag out to James, who looked at it blankly. 

“Oh, right. Well, I’m not sure I could finish a whole one.”

“Have some of mine then,” offered Regulus, knowing full well what he was doing.

“You don’t mind?” asked James, slightly shakily. 

“I don’t mind,” Regulus assured him. He passed the spit slick sweet to James, who took it in his hand and looked at it some more. 

“Cheers,” he said uncertainly. He looked from the sugar quill to Regulus and back again. “Actually, I— it’s alright, you have it,” he said quickly, “Maybe I’ll have some later.” 

“Suit yourself.” He took the sugar quill back and put the tip in his mouth. 

“You, uh,” faltered James, “You look really nice…” Regulus smiled.

“You’re not too bad yourself Potter,” he returned. 

“Won’t you call me James?”

“If I did it all the time it wouldn’t be special.” James laughed at that. 

“My name’s special?” he asked. 

“Yes,” said Regulus, because he was drunk. 

“Ok then,” agreed James. “Are those your clothes?” he asked suddenly. Regulus bit back a smile. 

“No,” he admitted, “They’re Barty’s. He let me borrow them.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Do you like them?”

“Yes,” replied James, as if it were obvious, and it was, really. “Is this what you wear when you’re not in uniform?” 

“Maybe,” said Regulus cheekily, “Sometimes.”

“Must you torture me like this?” he groaned, and Regulus laughed again.  

“I must,” he informed him. 

“James!” called a third voice, and they both turned around to see Peter Pettigrew approaching. He froze when he saw Regulus, taking the scene in, and seemed to backtrack. 

“What is it?” asked James. 

“No it’s… It’s nothing, don’t worry!” and he left just as quickly as he’d come. 

“What was that about?” mumbled James, but he seemed as though he knew exactly what that had been about. 

“Is he afraid of me?” wondered Regulus.

“What? No, of course not!” chuckled James, and it was enough to convince Regulus.

“What then?” he asked bluntly.

“Well, I’ve… He probably wanted to give us some space.”

“Because…?” prompted Regulus. 

“I’ve, er, I’ve been talking about you…to him.” 

“Really?” preened Regulus, “What do you say about me?” 

“That I’m going crazy,” he let out in a long breath.

“Crazy?”

“Absolutely insane,” confirmed James. 

“And so he wanted to give us some space because…?”

“Because I— Well, look I— I just…” James seemed to be struggling to articulate just what it was he was trying to say, “Fuck,” he said instead. Regulus tilted his head in patient confusion. 

“Why don’t you… Why don’t we talk about this some other time?” he offered, “Maybe it’s not quite right right now.” Regulus knew it wasn’t, he’d asked Pandora when it would happen – a kiss, or a confession, or anything of that sort, and she’d said ‘not yet’. So he was waiting. 

“Alright,” agreed James, sounding relieved, “You’re right.” 

Regulus smiled again, but it felt less genuine this time. 

“I think Pandora probably misses me,” he said lamely, gesturing vaguely to the dancefloor, “I’m going to go back to dancing. Do you want to come too?”

“No, it’s alright,” said James lightly, “I’ll go and see what Pete wanted. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” agreed Regulus, “See you tomorrow.” 

And because he was drunk, and because he was a little sick of waiting, Regulus leaned up to place a chaste peck on James’ cheek. 

“Oh,” said James softly, and Regulus felt incredibly flushed. 

“See you,” he said again, quicker this time, and he disappeared into the crowd, trying his best not to look back.