that which killed Regulus Black
James hadn’t woken up this early in a long time, and the faint darkness outside reminded him of the shorter winter days as the sun lingered below the horizon, casting the city in shadows. His alarm clock blared from the nightstand and in his groggy attempt to silence it, he knocked it over. That was enough to get him out of bed with a sigh.
He had foregone his usual cup of tea in the morning and didn’t dare think about eating any breakfast as his stomach clenched around nothing except a knot of anticipation that had buried itself deep within him.
Dressing similarly to Marc—casual but presentable—he pulled on a thick coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck. As he headed out, he whispered a quiet "Bye!" to a sleepy Lily and quickly checked on Harry before leaving.
The streets were mostly empty, save for a few early risers. Elderly men walked their dogs, seemingly unfazed by the winter chill, while city workers stood on ladders, stringing Christmas lights around the square.
James hadn’t realised how close they were to Christmas now and when a man at the bottom shouted and stuck two blocks together, the little golden bulbs sputtered to light and he had felt a bit of merriment at the sight.
He stood outside the cafe for only about five minutes before he saw Marc arriving from his left and he quickly smiled at him and unlocked the door, gesturing at him to come in quickly and he flipped a switch by the door to turn all the lights on. It was much warmer inside and Marc made no gesture to adjust the temperature on the thermostat, only shivering at the rapid change from cold to hot and shucking off his coat, hanging it up on a stand by the door.
“So I’ve spoken to Reggie and you’re not to worry, he’s completely on board with you joining us. He was a bit surprised at how fast you’re coming on but he said as long as you were okay with it, then so is he,” Marc said, assuaging a few of his many worries about coming on to the cafe.
“That’s good. Er- how long has he owned this shop anyway?” James asked, following Marc around like a lost puppy as he walked behind the counter, pressing buttons and flipping switches on various machines to get them going.
“He’s been here for about a year and a half. The last owner was an older woman who couldn’t take care of the shop anymore so she put it up for sale and Reggie bought it. I worked for her and when Reggie asked if I could stay on, I said sure , might as well right? I was surprised that someone so young would take on such a venture but he’s quite mature,” he shrugged.
Interesting…so about half of the time Regulus was gone was now accounted for, just the other half remained.
“I related to him quite a bit, he was lost on what to do as well and I think buying the cafe was him trying to find some sort of direction and clearly, he had made a good choice.” Marc was right, the cafe was always somewhat busy, some customers only stopping by for a drink or pastry while others came by to do work or socialise, staying in for a while and rebuying drinks and food. The ambience and decoration was unique and it was in an up and coming neighbourhood lending the cafe to an unmatched experience.
As Marc spoke, he began unloading mugs from the cabinets and cutlery from the drawers. James tried to keep track of where everything went, but it was hard to focus with Marc casually dropping instructions between anecdotes. Marc moved effortlessly, his actions fluid and automatic, as all of this was second nature to him.
Marc handed him an apron and a knocking tore his attention away from his work. He bid James to go open the door and when a man started barging in past him with a box in his hands, James could only gape and stutter out an “Er- we’re not open yet.”
The short man turned to look over his shoulder and smirked before Marc came from behind the kitchen, speaking to him in rushed French and as James mentally translated, he felt increasingly stupid because he was here to deliver pastries, as evidenced by the packs of croissants that the man unpacked from the boxes.
James hastened over to help, who he now knew as Firas, unload everything and place them in the showcase, ensuring they looked all nice and enticing.
Once that was done, Marc started playing some light music over the sound system and flipped the sign on the door from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open.’ Finally, he stood behind the counter, spread his hands, and said “See, it’s just as easy as that.”
James nodded and smiled, “Thank you again Marc. I really appreciate this opportunity, you might’ve saved me from a world of embarrassment as a duckmaster.”
He grinned, “Well you can keep being a duckmaster in your back pocket in case this doesn’t work out yeah? Now let’s get started.” He winked just as the door chimed, signalling their first customer of the day.
____________
James spent the next few hours shadowing Marc—literally staying just a step behind, mimicking everything he did. He watched over Marc's shoulder as he made various drinks, entered orders into the register, and handed over whatever the customer asked for.
It didn’t seem too difficult, and James was a quick learner. But it wasn’t until a lull in customers that he realised just how exhausted he was from being on his feet for so long.
“Well just because it’s your first day doesn’t mean you don’t get a drink as well,” Marc grinned and got to work again.
James laughed, snapping to attention when the door chimed. But when he saw who had walked in, his smile faltered. He quickly sidestepped behind Marc, half-hiding himself like a fool. At least this way, Marc could handle most of the conversation.
Reggie strolled in, running a finger along the counter before swinging around the edge and slipping through the gate that separated the counter and kitchen from the rest of the shop.
“Good morning,” he greeted both of them, dipping his chin slightly. His hair curled in damp ringlets around his cheeks but his eyes were bright as he scanned the two of them. His nose and cheeks were pink and cold-kissed by the weather and James could only imagine how cold his hands were, as they tended to be.
Seeing him made a pang of longing thrum inside James’ chest after all that he had learned- what Regulus had been thinking in those finals days before he left, what he wanted Evan and his friends to know, what he wanted to say to James but couldn’t. James just wished he knew what he had gone out to do- who or what had cursed him to this fate.
James was lost in thought when both of their eyes turned to him and he tuned back into the conversation, “Sorry, what?”
“When you’re done with your shift I’ll need you to come into my office to sign some paperwork if that's okay?” Regulus repeated with a raised brow.
James nodded quickly and he was off, disappearing through a door in the back.
He turned back to see Marc smirking down at his hands.
“What?” James asked, looking up and around to see if he’d missed something.
“Nothing,” he laughed before turning to the next customer, “Comment puis-je vous aider aujourd’hui? (How can I help you today?”)
____________
His shift ended for the day and he felt a sense of genuine accomplishment despite not having done too much besides watching Marc and internally freaking out anytime someone spoke directly to him and he didn’t know how to help.
“And now you’re leaving me here alone, I’m heartbroken,” Marc frowned, holding a hand over his heart.
“Distance makes the heart grow fonder," he said with a wink, finishing off his lavender latte.
After taking off his apron, he steeled himself and walked up to Regulus' door. His heart pounded harder with each step and hoping this would be over quickly as he knocked, his knuckles rapping lightly against the door.
“Come in,” Regulus’ undeniable voice called out and so James did, pushing his door open.
The office was nicely sized but still held an undeniably cosy feel as a window, bracketed by velvet curtains across from him, lit up the space to reveal an oak desk in the centre, its surface decorated with a lamp, paperwork, and little handwritten notes. The room smelled faintly of old books and sandalwood and sure enough, there were even more books neatly arranged up on shelves lining the walls. In the corner, there was a small round table with a plush armchair beside it and an empty tea cup sat there, clearly abandoned by Regulus who was looking up at him, watching as he surveyed the space.
“You said I had to fill out paperwork?” James prompted when neither of them spoke.
Regulus nodded, reaching for a sheaf of paper as he cleared his throat, “Take a seat.”
James sat and when Regulus leaned over, James could see two pots sat on the windowsill behind him, the plants inside withered and brown. It was clear some things never changed.
Regulus slid some paperwork across the desktop with deft fingers. James had no idea what it was about, reading words he’d never heard of before but he signed them blindly, about ninety percent sure whatever it was was legit and he’d have nothing to worry about.
“Did you enjoy your first day?” Regulus asked, taking the papers back, lining them all up, and sliding them into a drawer on his right.
“I did yeah, Marc’s a great teacher,” he nodded.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Regulus’ face. Something about the way the light silhouetted him from behind, outlining him in gold, made James’ vision flicker from the present to the past.
“And this is my brother Reggie,” Sirius smiled once he entered the carriage, pulling Regulus in behind him.
He stood sour-faced with his arms crossed, clearly not wanting to have been dragged into their compartment, “Don’t call me that,” he huffed.
“Okay Regulus ,” Sirius said placatingly, with a roll of his eyes that Regulus couldn’t see.
He took a seat by the window next to Sirius who was directly across from him. He wasn’t all that interested in talking to them, instead choosing to sit staring outside or into his hands that kept fidgeting in his lap.
At some point, after their own conversations about their summers died down, Sirius elbowed Regulus and whispered rather loudly, “Say something.”
“I don’t have anything to say,” Regulus retorted, pulling out a book and folding his legs up in front of him as though they were a shield as he leant his back against the window.
James’ eyes kept sliding over to him, wanting to say something but not sure what. James was always good at starting conversations, he was sure he could spark one up with a plant if he tried hard enough, but Regulus was a hard case to get a read on, he seemed impossible.
The fading sunlight poured through the window behind him, casting him in a soft, golden glow while shadows danced across his face, obscuring his features.
When everyone else in the carriage fell asleep, James asked, “What book are you reading?”
Regulus tilted his bent knees to the side so he could just barely see his face, “Hogwarts: A History. Why?”
“You’re reading that already?” James asked, confused why he wouldn’t pick something actually entertaining.
“Yeah well Sirius said that Binns quizzes you on the first day about it, I wanted to be prepared,” he frowned. He looked so much like Sirius it was a bit daunting but his expression was always rather downturned unlike Sirius’ which was in a perpetual smirk- even now as he slept, he looked self-satisfied.
James stifled a laugh, “There’s no quiz, I suspect he was trying to prank you.”
Regulus’ brow rose, “Are you serious?”
James nodded.
He slammed the book shut and dropped his head back, “I hate him.” When his head came back forward, he started laughing a bit and James joined him.
When they quieted, James asked, “So what House are you hoping to get sorted in?”
At that, Regulus straightened a bit and turned his knees back to where they had been before, blocking off his view of him. He crossed his arms and turned back to the window.
James was left to drown in silence, wondering what he had said wrong as the train rumbled onwards.
“Okay well that’s all I needed from you,” Regulus finished. “Also, I am aware that Marc lets you take books on occasion but I ask that you refrain from letting others do the same should they ask.”
He wasn’t aware Regulus knew about that, “Oh sorry, I had a feeling you didn’t approve but I was just really enjoying them,” he explained awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s fine, clearly you proved trustworthy, it’s others I don’t trust so much,” he shrugged.
“You trust me already?” he laughed but it came out tight as his eyes dropped down to their twin rings.
“Enough to hire you,” he replied easily.
James didn’t want the conversation to end while simultaneously wanting to run out of the room. It was hard to face him without being able to reach over the table and touch him or talk about any of the hundreds of topics they could broach. They were limited to small talk and James hated that above all else but he would take it if it meant being able to just speak to him again.
"Are all the books yours?" James asked, twisting in his seat to glance at Regulus’ shelf before standing to get a closer look.
"Some are," Regulus replied, quietly joining him. "Others I’ve collected from different places." He stood less than a foot away, and James felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to reach out—to touch the soft fabric of his jumper, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath.
"What’s your favourite?" James asked, his voice low as he fought to stay composed.
Regulus pursed his lips thoughtfully before stepping around him, leaning down to pull a book from a lower shelf. "Maybe this one. But honestly, it changes depending on the day." He held up a worn copy of The Lord of the Rings .
"You like magic, then?" James asked, his gaze fixed straight ahead, resisting the urge to look at him.
"Sometimes," Regulus said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I like escaping to a world unlike my own. Makes for an interesting read."
James was about to turn away when something on the shelf above caught his eye. Tucked between a dozen other books, nearly indistinguishable, was a title that felt out of place. He reached up, pulled it free, and flipped the cover. It was a copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard . How had that ended up among all the seemingly Muggle novels?
Regulus tsked as he saw him holding it, “I found that among all my other books. I suppose it’s a children’s book but I don’t really remember it. It’s quite entertaining though when I flip through it from time to time,” he said.
"It certainly looks like it," James replied, dazed, as he let Regulus take the book from him—careful to keep his hands from brushing against his. Regulus eyed the book briefly before reaching up to return it to its place on the shelf.
But James froze. His breath caught as he noticed the scars. Where Regulus's Dark Mark should have been was instead a mass of mottled scars. The skin looked burned, or as though it had been hacked at—mangled and poorly healed. It appeared raw, painful, as if the wound had never truly closed.
James was surprised he hadn’t even thought about the dark mark before but James so rarely associated that mark with Regulus that he’d sort of just, subconsciously washed it away. It was impossible to reconcile the mark associated with Voldemort and all things evil with Regulus who was the complete opposite of that. If he had kept an eye out on day one, he probably would’ve saved himself a lot of worrying over whether this was actually even Regulus or not.
Regulus hastily pushed his sleeve down and he must’ve seen the look on his face because he turned away as though ashamed.
“What happened?” James asked before he thought better of it, already regretting it, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to ask- I just-.”
“No it’s fine,” he said, dropping down into the plush armchair. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t remember?” he huffed. “I must’ve gotten it when I was young, some accident probably.”
According to what he knew based on what Regulus told him about the mark, it should have been impossible to remove. Even if he had been cursed to lose his memory, or even if he Obliviated himself, which was a theory James had been working on, there was no way he would’ve been powerful enough to get rid of the mark, even if it did look like it had been sliced off.
“I can’t imagine not knowing what happened,” James murmured, “Your parents never mentioned it?”
His face tightened and again, he raised his hand to his temple like something was ailing him, “Er- no I don’t think so, sorry I’m just having another migraine.” He stood up then and grabbed his coat that had been resting over the back of his chair, “I don’t mean to be the one running out on you this time but I think I’m checked out for the rest of the day.”
“Oh yeah of course,” James said, moving to hold the door open for Regulus who passed by but not before brushing his shoulder against his chest and James felt a searing burst of heat where they had touched but if Regulus noticed, he didn’t show it because he only continued outwards and James followed him.
He said a few words to Marc before leaving. James watched him through the windows of the shop and he took a deep breath before shaking his head. He looked both ways and as if flippantly picking a direction, he turned right and disappeared around the corner.
Regulus rarely experienced migraines, and from what he understood, they didn’t tend to appear as suddenly as his’ seemed to. Even weirder was that they seemed to hit whenever he brought up his parents or anything about his past. This only deepened his suspicion that something was truly wrong, and he knew exactly what he would do after work today.
__________
He went back to the Apparition point, keeping his gaze down as people hurried past—busier now in the daylight. With a quick, whispered incantation, he spun on his heel and vanished.
He strolled through the streets of London once more, and since he had landed at an Apparition Point in Islington, it wasn’t long before he found himself turning onto Grimmauld Street.
London was already dreary most days but it felt like the temperature had dropped the minute he turned the corner. A breeze whooshed through the street, stirring up dead leaves and there wasn’t any sound besides a chiming somewhere in the distance and some rustling in the bins on the street.
The grey townhouses loomed imposingly on their side of the road, yet they seemed lifeless, despite the fact that he knew Muggles lived on either side of Number 12. It was as though that house had drained the life from the entire street.
He climbed the steps to the house, uncertainty gnawing at him. What was he supposed to do now that he was here? Could he just walk in? He wasn’t sure if Kreacher would even open the door for him, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. Pulling out his wand, he cast an Unlocking Charm.
After a moment of effort, the door finally gave way, creaking open as he stepped inside.
The house had clearly fallen into disrepair. Dust coated every surface, and the foyer was filled with a stale, bitter odour. As he ventured deeper, the condition worsened: portraits hung at odd angles, their colours faded and crumbling, while broken and tattered furniture littered the rooms. The floorboards creaked under his weight, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that Kreacher might not even be here anymore, given the state of things.
It was uncomfortably silent until he heard, “Filthy traitor in the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black! How dare you sully this home! You are a stain of dishonour to the Sacred 28!”
He turned on his heel to see the lovely Walburga screeching at him like a lunatic.
“Walburga, lovely to see you’re still here to grace us with your presence,” he said tightly.
She inhaled a large breath, ready to go on a tirade, but Kreacher came scuttling over from somewhere behind him and he cowered in front of her portrait,
“Mistress mustn't worry herself! Mistress will be hurting herself!” he pleaded and flecks of paint began to fall from her portrait, like her hatred was literally causing it to crumble.
“Kreacher, I need to speak with you,” he interrupted.
Kreacher looked between the two of them, wringing his hands together before he snapped a finger and the curtains in front of her portrait swung shut, effectively silencing her. Kreacher hung his head in shame at what he had done but James just said, “Thank you.”
The elf was much more haggard than when James had last seen him and he couldn’t believe Kreacher of all elves, who took so much pride in his position, would let the house fall to ruins. Surely Sirius would’ve been happy to see this but James didn’t think Regulus would be all too pleased.
“What is Mr. Potter doing here after so much time,” he frowned, looking up at him. He made no move to offer him tea or a seat and James should’ve expected as much. He and Kreacher didn’t really have any large sort of working relationship. He’d only seen the elf in passing the handful of times he had come here to see Regulus after Walburga’s death.
“I realised that you’ve probably been alone for quite some time and I wanted to…check in on you,” he looked around the house for emphasis, “It’s a bit dusty in here don’t you think?”
Kreacher scowled then, “Kreacher is busy and does not appreciate James Potter breaking into the most Ancient and Noble House of Black.”
“I didn’t break in , the door was barely guarded and what are you so busy doing?” House elves’ main job was to clean and maintain the home and Grimmauld was currently neither cleaned nor maintained.
“Kreacher is not to say,” he said with a tone of finality.
“Well I’ll be quick then so you can get back to whatever it is you were doing,” he said and went to sit in a nearby chair while Kreacher remained standing across from him, displeased. “I wanted to ask you what you know about Regulus’ death.”
He could practically see the same horror that gripped him upon finding out Regulus had died take over Kreacher which seemed strange, since Kreacher already knew. Yet the raw agony that flickered across his face was unmistakable, though it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by anger.
“Kreacher is not wanting James Potter here anymore,” he gritted out.
“Kreacher please , you need to understand. I need to know what happened then,” he repeated, ready to start begging if he had to. Kreacher knew everything about Regulus, he had to know about this too.
Despite his anger, James noticed the tears welling up in Kreacher’s large eyes. As though struggling with himself, the elf finally choked out “Kreacher is not to say.”
“I loved him Kreacher and I know you did too. You must understand what this means to me.”
“And where was James Potter on that night? Kreacher watched Master Regulus leave to be seeing you, Kreacher thought James would be helping him ,” he spat out. “You are coming too late.”
Hearing what happened that night thrown back in his face felt like a slap, “I know okay, I didn’t get to see him but I didn’t know what was about to happen. Evan Rosier had a letter though, Regulus told him that he was leaving but he didn’t say where he was going. Kreacher, I know you know something we don’t.”
Kreacher tugged at his ears as he began pacing in a circle, muttering to himself. James strained to listen but couldn’t make out much beyond fragments of incoherent whispers of, “Kreacher musn’t…no no no.”
James’ own hands started sweating because he knew Kreacher was hiding something- he just needed to dig deeper. He couldn’t say Regulus was alive, that might break Kreacher’s mind but he searched for something to say that might push him.
“Kreacher, it might feel better to talk about it,” he prompted. “If you just-.”
“James is not understanding , Kreacher is being ordered not to tell anyone what happened that night,” he spoke before suddenly gasping and hitting himself on the side of his head, chiding himself for speaking.
“Who ordered you?” James asked, suddenly confused.
“Master Regulus,” the elf replied, his voice hoarse and filled with misery.
James didn’t know what to do now. If Regulus specifically forbade Kreacher from speaking about it then there was no way of getting the information out of him given that he was not his Master. His Master now must be Sirius and that was an absolute bust.
They both remained in silence before curiosity overtook him, “What is it exactly that you’re so busy doing?”
The elf shook his head harshly.
“Surely Regulus didn’t say: Don’t tell James Potter what you are working on. So it should be okay right?” he tried.
Kreacher considered him long and hard before speaking, “Kreacher knows James is trying to trick him but Master Regulus was speaking often of James. Master Regulus was trusting James, so Kreacher will too.” He hobbled away and James scurried to follow, feeling unmoored by his words.
Kreacher led him to the kitchen and slowly opened a cramped cabinet, crammed full of miscellaneous items from around the house. In the centre, there was just enough space for James to wonder if Kreacher actually slept there. But his attention was drawn to something nestled in the right corner.
A gleaming silver locket, twisted like a coiled serpent, caught his eye. At its centre, an amber stone glimmered faintly, etched with the letter 'S,' standing out starkly against the clutter. As James reached out to touch it, Kreacher slapped his hand away
“Kreacher must destroy that which killed Regulus Black,” he whispered gravely.
Walburga's screams pierced the air again, jolting Kreacher out of his daze. He slammed the cabinet shut and ordered James to leave. James complied, glancing at the clock on the wall. The hands were moving suspiciously close to the next hour and he realised he needed to get back to Lily and Harry.
When he made it out the front stoop, he said in a rush, “Thank you Kreacher and er- take care of yourself. Please. Regulus wouldn’t want you living like this.”
He turned on his heel and left before the door even shut.
____________
A few days later, on an evening neither he or Lily were working, they decided to take Harry out to the aquarium.
James had always loved aquariums, drawn to the vibrant fish and the calm atmosphere where people quietly marvelled at nature's wonders. So, when he passed a man advertising one, he eagerly grabbed a pamphlet and shared the idea with Lily, who was just as excited as he was.
When they arrived at the Aquarium de Paris, they were immediately taken aback by its size. The exterior was impressive, but the inside was even more breathtaking.
Even Harry, who usually couldn't sit still and loved to squeal with excitement, remained silent in his pram, his head constantly turning as he tried to take in every sight. James smiled, delighted by the mesmerising reflections dancing in Harry's goggles-like glasses."
“It’s amazing isn’t it,” Lily mused, walking right up to the glass and holding a hand up to it. James did the same, feeling the cool glass under his palm, and watched as tiny fish, barely visible, darted among larger ones with gaping jaws, while sharks glided by, ever watchful and tense. “I think it’s things like this that make muggles believe in magic.”
“What do you mean?” James murmured.
“Well, it’s the only way to explain nature like this. In the wizarding world, we’re all so focused on magical creatures and beasts and plants, that we rarely think about ‘normal’ things like this. I would much rather look at this than whatever’s at the bottom of the Black Lake,” she snorted, turning to him.
Her eyes flickered to his, and in the silent room bathed in soft blue light, memories of the first night he and Lily became a couple resurfaced.
They had been sitting together on the porch of a rundown safe house, watching the stars gradually blink into view. He had gone out to search for the Leo constellation, as he always did, when Lily quietly joined him. Without a word, she rested her head on his shoulder, and they sat there long after everyone else had left—wrapped in a blanket of comfortable silence.
She was as beautiful then as she was the first time he saw her, back when they were eleven, on the train.
A tugging on his pant leg reminded him of Harry and he quickly scooped him out of the pram, hefting him up on his shoulders to look through the glass more closely.
They walked through different exhibits, oohing and awing at everything and James especially loved the shark tunnel where everywhere they looked, there seemed to be hundreds of sharks looking for a crack in the glass to break through. Harry, who he thought would be terrified, only laughed delightedly at the razor sharp teeth and fins.
The stingray exhibit was particularly exciting as they neared the open pools. While James felt a flicker of hesitation, Lily eagerly rolled up her sleeves and plunged her hand into the water. With a gentle touch, she ran her fingertips over the smooth, grey bodies of the stingrays.
Encouraged, James followed suit, but the moment his hand made contact, he jerked it back, recoiling in disgust and keeping a safe distance. James didn’t trust those buggers not to sting him given his usual shite luck so it was up to Lily to heft Harry up and bring him close enough to touch them.
Eventually, he decided to leave Lily there while he went to the Cafe to get them all something to snack on and drink. While on their way, he and Harry went on a little adventure of their own that consisted of a lot of running, sticking faces up to the glass and coming back all squashed up, and falling. Harry really did fall a lot but he always got back up and continued so James wasn’t all that worried.
At the cafe they scored some water bottles, a healthy looking smoothie, and some cookies to snack on.
Lily wasn’t where they had left her, and when they finally spotted her, she was talking to a man. He was a bit shorter than James, with cropped brown hair and large brown eyes. Distracting Harry for a moment, James glanced back up to see Lily now making her way towards them.
Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she seemed a little flustered as she took a bottle of water from him and downed it.
“Who was that,” he asked.
“Oh,” she waved an errant hand, “He was just asking what my name was and trying to flirt but don’t worry I shut that down quickly.”
“Why would I worry? Were you not interested?” he questioned, cringing at the smoothie which was one of the healthy ones rather than a nice sugar-filled one.
She shot him an incredulous look, “What are you talking about? Why would I be interested?”
He shrugged, suddenly knowing he had treaded into touchy territory, “I dunno, I just thought if you wanted to meet more people, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”
“I don’t want to meet anyone else,” she frowned. “I just want to go back to our friends.”
They did another lap around the aquarium before heading back home for the night, the air a bit heavy with tension, stress, and most of all- longing.
____________
Regulus didn’t come into the shop for the next couple days as it was pretty unnecessary considering he mostly only owned the shop, and didn't necessarily work there, but he did end up spotting him when he was with Harry at the park by the shop after his shift.
He watched as Harry played around in the open space, going up to other little kids and running around with them. They were all bundled up in thick coats and jumpers that it felt like he was just watching a bunch of marshmallows running around him and it made him smile.
He was on the outskirts of the park so when someone settled on the bench next to them, he didn’t really look, until he happened to watch Harry run to his left and when he looked just a bit too far that way, he saw the familiar shock of black hair, “Regulus!” he blurted, hastily sitting up and trying to look somewhat presentable.
“You need to pay more attention to your surroundings. You know what they say- constant vigilance,” Regulus smirked, leaning back.
They do not say that, in fact, it is actually only Moody that says that but at this point, James digresses but this was bound to happen repeatedly.
His reaction must’ve shown on his face because Regulus looked back at him, huffing, “Why do you look at me like that?”
“Like what? I don’t look at you like anything,” he retorted, pulling his coat around himself tighter.
“Like you’ve seen a ghost,” he replied, turning away. His profile stood out sharply against the dull landscape, a striking contrast of black and white against the muted beige and grey but It was as though the years had no claim on him—he looked exactly as he had the night he left. Maybe he was a ghost, come to haunt him from where James had been keeping him in the back of his mind.
“Maybe it’s because you’re so pale.”
Silence filled the air until his laughter broke through, a melody James hadn't realized he'd missed until now.
“I’m cutting your paycheck,” he tutted as a ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips, a dimple shadowing his cheek.
The more he spoke, the more he noticed how watery his French accent really was. It perplexed James because he never really spoke with one before and now it only seemed pronounced when he was talking to Marc or with customers but with him it went back to a standard British accent. He wondered whether that was purposeful or habit at this point.
James was about to reply when he heard crying and turned to see Harry, running at him, blood running down his chin.
He immediately got up and jogged over to meet him halfway, “What’s happened love,” he cooed, pulling him into his arms and holding him at his side to inspect him.
Harry just pointed over to where he was and there was a small ledge separating certain areas of the park off and he must’ve tripped over it- it was rather inconveniently placed.
He went back to the bench and he looked around for something and he was about to use the sleeve of his coat to wipe his face but a handkerchief appeared at his side and he saw Regulus was holding it out to him- he hadn’t even noticed he had a bag with him but now saw it slung over his opposite shoulder.
He was about to protest but Regulus pushed it into his hand, “Please.”
It was as soft as silk as he held it up to Harry’s chin, dabbing at it and repeatedly assuring him that he was okay. He hated seeing him cry and once the bleeding had stopped, Regulus proffered a plaster.
“Do you just have everything in there?” he laughed, accepting it and ripping it open. It was a standard green colour and he carefully placed it on Harry’s chin.
Harry quietly resettled in his lap then, clearly done with playing, and James wrapped his arms around him keeping him warm.
“I like to be prepared is all,” he replied.
James looked at it one more time and it was reminiscent of the hundreds Regulus used to have, always carrying one with him out of habit.
“Not many people use handkerchiefs these days,” he stated, putting it in his pocket.
“I just found this one in one of my drawers and it’s come in handy so. I think it was a Christmas present or something,” he shrugged.
“Nice Christmas present,” he replied absently.
“Well I don’t remember who it’s from so it can’t have been that good,” he chuckled.
James sighed, holding Harry closer and wanting to bang his head into a wall.