Chapter 3
Monday, September 14, 1976 7:42 AM
James woke up feeling like absolute shite.
It wasn’t that he had slept badly—though he had. It was the fact that his dreams had been plagued by flashes of sharp glares and too-pale hands curling into fists. Of cold words and colder eyes. Of those beautiful, beautiful eyes that shone like dull jewels… Of a voice in his head that didn’t sound like his own telling him to stay out of it.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and groaned. This was ridiculous.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Sirius said from across the dormitory, already dressed, looking far too smug for this early in the morning. “Dream about Evans again?”
James flipped him off.
Sirius grinned, throwing a balled-up sock at him. “That’s a yes, then.”
It wasn’t. But James wasn’t about to correct him.
Because then Sirius would get in a bad mood again, and worse case scenario, think he’s gay. For his brother. Which he will never be. Because he likes Lily, right? Right… he doesn’t say how he dosen’t know if he’s in love with her or not, and he definitely does not say how he hasn’t felt attracted to women in a while. If ever. Because he’s not gay and never will be.
He rolled out of bed, dragging himself toward the bathroom as Sirius and Peter bickered about whether or not the Beatles song Here Comes The Sun was overrated or not, and if the Slytherin Quidditch team was overrated or not.
Remus, ever perceptive, didn’t say a word.
But James could feel him watching.
10:36 AM – The Corridors
James hadn’t meant to cross paths with Regulus again.
He really didn’t want to.
But there he was, walking toward him in the corridor between potions and transfiguration, looking just as poised and put-together as ever. And yet—James noticed things now.
The slight tension in his shoulders. The way his fingers twitched at his side before curling into a fist.
Regulus didn’t acknowledge him. Not at first.
But James, for some incomprehensible reason, found himself slowing his pace, watching.
Regulus must have felt it because suddenly, he did look. Their eyes met—just for a second, just long enough for James to catch something off in Regulus’s expression.
And then, as if the universe itself wanted to prove a point, the older boy from the other day was there (Remus told him that his name is Cassius Mulciber,) and he appeared at the far end of the hallway.
James barely knew the bloke beyond the general understanding that he was an arsehole. But the second Regulus saw him, something changed.
His entire posture stiffened. The slight slouch James hadn’t known was there before was gone, and he appeared… doll like almost. Picture perfect.
Mulciber smirked as he approached, his gait slow and deliberate. He barely spared James a glance before his attention snapped fully onto Regulus.
James watched it happen. Watched how Regulus’s face locked into something unreadable. How his chin tilted just slightly, as if bracing himself.
And James hated it.
He didn’t think—he never does—he just spoke.
“This again?”
It was meant to be muttered under his breath, but Regulus caught it anyway.
And for the first time since they were children when James was in second year, and Regulus was in first, Regulus Black looked directly at James Potter with something other than passive contempt.
It was sharp. Dangerous.
“What is your problem, Potter?” Regulus hissed under his breath, taking a step toward him, voice so low it barely carried. “You can’t just mind your own damn business?”
James raised his hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t realize watching people get cornered was a private affair.”
Regulus’s jaw clenched. “You don’t know anything.”
James tilted his head. “So tell me.”
Regulus inhaled sharply, and for the briefest second, James thought—no, felt—like he had pressed too hard, like he had almost touched something Regulus couldn’t let anyone touch.
And then Mulciber, ever the bastard, laughed.
“Oh, Potter,” he drawled, cutting in smoothly. “Didn’t know you had such an interest in dear old Regulus.”
James bristled.
Regulus’s entire expression iced over.
“He doesn’t,” Regulus said, his voice clipped, his gaze burning into James like a warning.
And for once, James wasn’t sure if it was a warning to him or for him.
7:13 PM – The Library
James wasn’t avoiding the common room.
He just happened to end up in the library.
Alone.
At a table directly across from where Regulus was sitting.
Regulus barely reacted when James sat down. Didn’t even look up from his copy of Les Misérables. But James saw the way his grip on the pages tightened ever so slightly.
After a long pause, Regulus exhaled through his nose. “Is this a new hobby of yours, Potter? Following me around?”
James smirked. “You’re the one sitting where I was already going to sit.”
Regulus did look up at that, fixing him with a flat stare.
James just grinned.
A beat of silence.
Regulus sighed and went back to reading.
And James—who absolutely should have left—stayed right where he was.
He didn’t know why.
But for the first time in his life, he was willing to admit he really wanted to.