The Prettiest Star

It was another typical afternoon for Regulus. He’d started in the library to work on his admissions essay and his homework, and then James bloody Potter had come to whisk him away to their spot by the window for another round of his incessant (endearing) questions. At present, the sky was gradually darkening and they had reached James’ last question. 

“When’s the last time you cried?” asked James. Regulus tensed. It had all been going so well up to this point.

“I don’t cry,” he replied flatly. 

“Everyone cries,” reasoned James, the hint of mirth twinkling in his brown eyes.

“Not me,” he persisted. 

“I’ll tell you when I last cried,” offered James, and then without waiting for an answer he carried on, “I cried a few nights ago because I was feeling really overwhelmed. I don’t even know what it was, exactly, I was just having a bad day, and it all came to the surface. That happens to me sometimes, and so I have a little cry.” 

Regulus was stumped for a second. Stupidly, it had never really occurred to him that James Potter could have a bad day. Or that James Potter felt sad and overwhelmed. It was a side of James he’d never seen. He wondered how many other people saw that side. 

“So… what about you?” 

“Do you really want to know, James?” 

“Yes,” said James, “I do.” 

Regulus took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. He looked calculatingly over at James, then dipped his eyes to rest on the empty space between them. 

“...I cried the night Sirius left.” 

James softened at the confession. Regulus let out another long breath. 

“And you haven’t cried since?” wondered James, his words hushed. 

“No,” confessed Regulus. 

“Maybe you should,” was James’ response to that. 

“You want me to cry?” he asked in disbelief, “Tears have never helped anything.” 

“Tears aren’t for helping,” said James with a small smile, “They’re for release.” 

“Well, I don’t need release,” scoffed Regulus stubbornly. James raised his eyebrows, only slightly, and the small smile persisted, the whole image so impossibly soft and disbelieving it made Regulus want to choke. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” asked James, chuckling lightly in surprise. 

“Like… that.” James dipped his gaze down and away from Regulus’ face, bowing his head as he laughed quietly once more. “I’m perfectly capable,” Regulus began to say. 

“I know you are.” 

“Ok,” said Regulus, “Good.”

“...If you ever needed a shoulder to cry on…”

“Oh, shut it, James,” he snapped, and James laughed for the third time. Regulus found himself unable to stop the mirroring small smile that formed on his face, and tried to hide what he could by turning his head away.

“Reg…” began James, and Regulus turned to find him strangely nervous. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I’ve, er, I’ve got a fourth question…” 

Regulus raised an eyebrow. James had never broken the rule up until now. 

“That’s very unlucky Potter. That’s what Evan would say.”

“I think you might— Well, hopefully you’ll want to hear it.”

“Hopefully?” echoed Regulus with a smile. James nodded earnestly. 

“Hopefully,” he breathed. James was very easy to read, every emotion he felt shone brightly and clearly out of him like rays of sunshine. Right now, Regulus could almost feel the excited nerves coming off of him. 

“What’s the question?” he finally caved. His voice was quiet, they had returned to those hushed tones from earlier. James looked right at him. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Regulus blinked. 

His stomach had been filled with butterflies again, as if James really had passed on his nerves. He could barely comprehend what had just been said to him. He almost didn’t trust himself to speak. James Potter had just asked to kiss him. 

“Yes,” came his breathless reply, as though all the air had been stolen from his lungs. 

James’ eyes, already bright, seemed to light up. They widened in shock, almost as if he hadn’t believed that Regulus would say yes. It was only a second or two, but Regulus was captivated by those deep brown eyes. Before he could remember to breathe again James had leaned in and was kissing him. 

It was soft and fleeting, too slow to be just a peck but not long enough to be anything more. And Regulus wanted more. 

He found himself letting out a shaky breath. He didn’t think he’d felt so exhilarated in a long time. Barely another second went by before Regulus was leaning in again to catch James in another kiss. 

This one was slow too, but it lasted longer, and by the third they were moving further and further away from the first chaste, close-mouthed kiss. Regulus felt too terrified to do anything with his hands, and they rested tensely by his sides until James clutched at his waist, and suddenly he was holding tightly to James’ firm shoulders. 

All of his smugness, all of his confidence and flirtations fell away as Regulus pulled James closer, feeling James slip his tongue into his waiting mouth, and barely hiding the soft moan it caused him. He felt even more nervous and inexperienced than the first time he’d been kissed, but he was helplessly lost in it all the same. 

When James finally broke away (it was James who broke away, not Regulus, and he hated this), the sky was well and truly dark. Regulus didn’t know what to think, let alone what to say or do. 

“It’s… It’s nearly curfew,” James told him hoarsely. 

I thought you were a trouble maker? Regulus wanted to reply, but he didn’t. 

“Yes,” was what he said instead. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes,” repeated Regulus, stiff and tense.

“Ok,” whispered James. He swooped down to give Regulus one last, lingering kiss. “Bye,” he said quickly. 

“Bye,” said Regulus, and he left before he did anything stupid. 

***

Regulus had been waiting to kiss James Potter for almost a month (or really, ever since he’d met him on the train), and now that he had, he felt dazed. James’ fateful, stomach-twisting question repeated in his mind over and over (Can I kiss you? Can I kiss you?). Even just remembering the words stole his breath all over again. 

He’d returned to his dorm, a book open in his lap as he sat against the headboard of his bed, gazing out into nothingness. Every time he tried to return his attention to his reading the question sounded through his head and he stared blankly ahead as he thought it all over again. 

Can I kiss you? 

“What’s up with you?” came Barty’s sharp and sudden voice, snapping Regulus out of his reverie. 

“What?” he asked stupidly. 

“You alright, Reg?” prompted Evan, who seemed to have entered the dorm behind Barty, “You’re just staring into space…” 

“I’m fine,” he said shortly, looking down at his book to pretend he was reading. Barty flicked him in the middle of his forehead and he scowled. 

“Come on, Reg,” he drawled, “What’s going on?” 

But before he could come up with some half-baked lie, he was saved once again by Pandora coming in for the rescue. 

“Reggie?” she called uncertainty, poking her head around the door. Regulus put his book down and went to join her. Thank Merlin. 

“What, you can’t talk to me and Evan about it?” whined Barty, but Regulus and Pandora had already closed the door on him. 

“Regulus…” said Pandora gravely, and it sounded like a warning. It sounded like a bad omen. He turned his attention to her and her large, mismatched eyes were full of sorrow. That wasn’t the tone she was supposed to take. She was meant to be excited, like he was. Or like he had been, up until a few minutes ago. 

“What is it?” he managed to ask, his stomach dropping at the look on her face. Pandora stared at him for a few seconds, then beckoned him to a more private alcove of the hallway. 

“It’s not going to end well,” she told him ominously. 

“What do you mean?” he returned, but his voice betrayed him. He knew perfectly well what she meant. He knew perfectly well what this omen meant. 

“Regulus…” she repeated, only slightly chiding. 

He refused to believe it. 

“That’s not how…” he trailed off, gulping down the lump forming in his throat. “That’s not what you said would happen,” he finished accusingly, “That’s not…”

“I didn’t know,” she defended, her eyes now brimming with a different kind of sorrow, “I hadn’t seen it yet.”

“You said… you said it would go well.”

“I told you I hadn’t seen how it ended,” she replied in a small voice, “…But now I have…And, it’ll end badly.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said stubbornly, feeling worse by the minute. 

“You do, Reg, or you wouldn’t be so upset.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I love you,” she pleaded, “I don’t want you to be hurt.” 

“We both know neither of us can change what you’ve seen from happening,” he retorted, “I’ll be hurt anyway.”

“Yes, but I love you,” she said again, “I couldn’t keep it from you, not when you’re so happy…”

“I’m not—“ Regulus took a shaky breath, “Why would you tell me something like that? What am I supposed to do? I can’t— Pandora, how could you?”

“Please don’t shout,” she said quietly. 

“I wish you hadn’t told me that,” was his bitter reply. 

“I love you,” she repeated, and it occurred to Regulus that she wanted him to say it back. And it occurred to him that in that moment, he didn’t want to. He could feel the words on the tip of her tongue, ready to be spoken a fourth time, but she stopped short and left without another word. She’d seen his hesitation, just as she saw everything. Although, perhaps this time she hadn’t needed to rely on any kind of third eye or prophetic sight to see that he wouldn’t be able to say the words.

Soon after, he left the hallway too, and then left the dungeons altogether, unsure where he was headed. He walked the halls with no destination in mind. He only knew he had to keep walking. 

Pandora was wrong. She’d seen something and misinterpreted it. That had to be the only explanation. She claimed to have seen the end, but what if it hadn’t been the end? Not the real one, anyway. She didn’t understand what it was like with James; she had to be wrong. A part of Regulus didn’t care if it ended badly, if only he was able to enjoy it now. If anything, he had to enjoy it now, if it was sure to end badly. That was what he’d have to—

“Regulus?” came a soft voice from behind him. Regulus recognized it instantly. 

He turned around to face the origin of the voice. Perhaps it was finally time. 

“Hello, Sirius,” he greeted just as softly.