thestral hair
“You need a wand,” James decided with a tone of finality from his spot on Regulus’ sofa, a movie droning on endlessly on the tele before them.
Regulus finally tore his eyes away from the screen to instead look at him, “I assume I had one before didn’t I? Where do you think that might be?”
James shrugged, as he often did with most of Regulus’ questions though it was more likely than not that his wand lay forgotten or broken somewhere. He imagined if Kreacher had it that he would’ve put it up on its own pedestal.
Seeing as Regulus was working on his actual memory, James wanted to help urge along his magical memory. It wasn’t likely that it would be hard at all as Healer Mayfield said that all the magic was already inside of Regulus, it was just a matter of bringing that skill back out and refining it after having gone so long without using it.
They planned to go to Place Cachee after his shift the following day and it was then that Marc also cornered him, something that seemed to have been a long time coming.
He was out front, wiping tables down when Marc suddenly appeared behind him, “So.” he said rather loudly, surprising James and making him jump,
“How did you move so fast? And so quietly?” he asked, straightening as he looked around Marc. He could’ve sworn he was behind the counter just a moment ago.
He shrugged with a playful smirk upon his lips, “A better question is what exactly is going on between you and Regulus?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the stubborn stain on one of the table tops so that he could avoid looking him in the eye. Marc’s gaze was alarmingly unarming and James was sure that if they made eye contact, he’d let everything spill out.
“I’m not dumb despite popular judgement,” he rolled his eyes before settling in the seat James had just wiped down, “I see the way you two look at eachother; I mean it’s practically perverse , this is a family establishment and you’re imagining Regulus bent over the coffee machine while making a latte.”
James was rendered speechless by Marc’s colourful words before he regained control of his faculties, and pushed that particular image of Regulus away, “I am not doing that. And I don’t look at him like anything.”
“Not to mention how handsy you are.”
“Handsy?” he couldn’t recall a single moment of that, the most he’d touched Regulus was a hand on his waist or neck and even then that was only out of the handful of times they’d kissed, in private.
“When you walk past him, your hand is always on his back or what about all the times you're holding hands while making drinks? Is any of this ringing a bell?”
“That’s normal,” he pointed out. “Also we were not holding hands , we were just reaching for the same thing and our hands happened to touch.”
“One time I brushed hands with Regulus while we were walking out of the shop and he acted like I groped him, he was that freaked out,” he deadpanned and James had to laugh. He’d finally gotten the stain out and had taken to tossing the rag from hand to hand as they spoke.
He knew he had to assuage Marc somehow so he sighed, defeatedly, “Okay yes there have been some…developments.”
He started walking back to the counter, Marc trailing eagerly behind him as he started speaking, “We’ve been talking more, going out on dates, and it’s been… nice.”
“Are you dating? Like, are we official?” He smiled like a cat with a bowl of cream and James threw the now dirty rag right at him to wipe it off.
He really didn’t know how to answer that because he and Regulus hadn’t necessarily had the boyfriend conversation yet and that word seemed a bit frivolous but ultimately, it did matter. Especially considering Regulus’ worries about James staying with him and everything, he wanted to establish what they were.
“I’m not sure, it’s complicated,” he cringed.
“What’s complicated about it? You like him, he likes you- it sounds pre tty simple to me,” Marc clarified as though it truly were the simplest thing in the world and he was just being purposefully dense.
Maybe if they were any other normal couple, it would be- but alas.
“I know he’s hard on the outside but inside he’s all ooey gooey and I think if you just keep on picking, you can get to the centre of him and he’ll be all warm and- Regulus! Hi!” Marc stuttered and James turned to see Regulus walking in, a suspicious look already on his face as he peered between the two of them.
“What?” he asked, one of his eyebrows raising as he looked between the two of them.
“Nothing, nothing at all, ” he said in a sing-songy voice before making himself scarce.
Regulus gave him a look asking for clarification and James only smiled because there truly was no explaining Marc anymore.
____________
“You’re joking,” James gaped at Regulus.
“I’m not- it’s called a Baguette Magique,” he said, splaying his hands out wide as they walked along Place Cachee.
The day was still cold, France holding onto winter like a heavy shroud, and clouds started to dot the sky but the air was warm with magic and James felt happy as they walked along the semi-busy street.
His arm still hurt from his altercation with the death eaters a week ago and he could already tell that their curse was sure to leave behind a nasty scar but Kreacher had healed him up nicely so he needn’t seek out any sort of healer or magic for it. He hadn’t mentioned any of it to Lily, saying that the electricity went out at the shop and he stayed behind to watch over it while the repairman came.
He knew they agreed to tell each other the truth about everything but this was one thing he did not want to shed light on just yet. He’d rather this be a wild memory they look back on in about a good twenty years.
He could hardly face her the morning after. How could he after knowing what he had done to the man? He’d cast an Unforgivable and it truly scared him knowing that he even had the potential to do so. He wished that he had failed or that the spell had gone awry but it didn’t and he needed to live with that fact- he didn’t need Lily carrying the weight of that as well.
After this was all over, he was going to need some therapy- hand-holding, song-singing around a campfire, shitting in the woods, nature type therapy.
“That literally just means magic bread,” he laughed.
“Baguette means stick actually .”
They made it to Baguettes Magique de Cosme Acajor, the most famous wandmaker in Place Cachee, their Ollivander’s so to speak, and he was floored. This store was leagues away from Ollivander’s dusty and dark shelves.
From the outside, the shop was rather unassuming, but the door swung open by itself with a soft chime, ushering them into the sleek, polished interior of the space. It was expansive, with high ceilings that gave the shop an airy, almost gallery-like quality.
The walls were lined with dark oak shelves that gleamed under the soft glow of recessed lighting. Each shelf held rows of wands—beautifully crafted, their polished wooden shafts varying in hues from rich mahogany to deep ebony. The wands were displayed with a quiet grace, many encased in glass, while others rested on velvet cushions in simple wooden stands. A subtle scent of polished wood and a hint of something floral lingered in the air.
The counter, sleek and minimalist, was made of smooth black granite and behind it stood an elderly man, wearing a long, finely tailored coat and thick goggles that were perched on the very end of his nose.
A soft hum of enchantments filled the air, almost imperceptible, but it was there—an undercurrent of magic, gently beckoning them further into the shop.
“Wow,” James marvelled, stopping in the centre of the foyer and craning his neck up to take everything in.
“I was already shocked when I walked in but based on your reaction I can assume not all magic shops are like this?” Regulus asked dumbfounded.
James shook his head, “I’ll have to take you to see Ollivander’s some time.”
The man from behind the counter whisked over to them in a flurry of purple robes, “Bonjour, my name is Cosme Acajor, how can I help you today?” he smiled, peering between the two of them from behind his goggle-like glasses, his blue eyes magnified ten times larger than they should be.
“We were looking to buy a new wand for him, he’s er- misplaced his,” James said, gesturing to Regulus.
The man frowned deeply, a hand coming up to his chest as though he'd said something truly heartbreaking, “That is a shame indeed, well, you’ve come to the perfect place!” He’d already started walking away when James continued,
“His old wand was-,” he was cut off by Cosme abruptly stopping, turning on his heel and raising a hand to silence him.
“Ah! Here in Baguette Magique, all my customers come to me like newborn babies, naked and unsure of the world,” he came up close to Regulus then, running a hand over the air around him, “We will discover for ourselves what wand will be perfect for Mr.?”
“Regulus,” he replied slowly, giving James wide eyes, a bit terrified, and James had to admit he was too.
“Ah!” he said again, heartfelt, “such a beautiful name for such a beautiful boy indeed. It is a name fit for…” he gently pressed a hand to Regulus’ wrist, lifting it up between them.
James watched slowly as his face changed. He suddenly looked ten years older as all traces of eccentricity and joviality melted away. The lines around his mouth deepened, his brows pulled together, and his blue eyes were hard when they opened again, “Thestral tail hair.”
He started walking away before he could explain himself.
“What’s that about?” Regulus whispered to him.
James had once studied the various wand cores, but he couldn't quite recall the significance of thestral hair. However, he would never forget his first encounter with one in his second year.
After quidditch practice, James took the longer route back to the dorm, walking along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He wasn’t afraid of it anymore; having crossed its borders countless times, both in human and animagus form, and he actually found some comfort in its proximity.
He heard some rustling a little while later and peeked in through the trees to see a shock of wild blond hair passing by and he followed, curiosity always getting the better of him.
It was Pandora who was bent over a basket of apples, talking to herself.
“Pandora, what are you doing out here?” he asked, a look up at the sky showed it would be getting dark soon.
“I’m just feeding the thestrals,” she replied airily, picking up a red apple and dusting it off.
A what?" he asked, glancing around. Surely, she must be referring to yet another imaginary creature—she always seemed to bring them up whenever they partnered in Astronomy.
“We learned about them in Care of Magical Creatures last year, remember? We had a whole lecture on them,” she asked.
He scratched the back of his head as a vague image of thestrals popped up in his mind though he tuned out most lectures so he didn’t really remember anything about them except that they were invisible…for some reason.
She held out a hand and the creature plucked it up into the air, chewing on it with an open mouth so bits of apple innards spilled out onto the floor.
“How can you even see them?” he asked, looking around for any evidence that the thestral was there in the first place but there was none. He supposed he could see some indentations on the floor but he never would’ve noticed it had he come upon the thestral himself- he likely would’ve just ran right into it.
“Only someone who has seen death can see them,” she said, stroking what he assumed was its’ mane.
He let that sink in as he suddenly regretted having asked, “I’m so sorry I didn’t reali-.”
“It’s okay,” she shrugged. “I was quite young when my mum passed away so I don’t miss what I don’t remember. Besides, I’ll be seeing her again, I imagine.”
He hadn’t even realised that Pandora’s mum passed much less right in front of her. That must’ve been traumatizing despite how calmly she spoke about it now.
He started to see her in a new light despite how ashamed he felt to admit it. Most people made fun of her, calling her poor or pesky Pandora, and while he never made fun of her that way, he had to admit that he would agree she was a bit not-all-there. However now, he saw her not as mad but strong and steadfast in adversity, calm as cool river water rushing in a brook.
“Can I help you, feed it I mean?” he asked, setting down his quidditch supplies and stepping closer.
She nodded as a smile blossomed on her face and she guided his hand where he needed to for the thestral to pluck it out of his palm and he went so far as to pet its’ mane, relishing in its’ softness once he got over how weird it was to be petting something invisible.
Though at the same time, he wished he would never have to see one.
“Dora? It’s time for dinner, are you still out here?” a voice called out and they both turned to see a wand light coming towards them. James hadn’t even realised how dark its’ become until now.
The wandlight belonged to Regulus who stepped into the clearing looking a bit shocked at the two of them out here together.
“Why were you calling out for me? If I wasn't here, you wouldn’t get a response,” she asked matter-of-factly and James could see the embarrassed look that took over his face then as he shuffled his feet.
“It’s getting late, you don’t want to miss mealtime again ,” he forced out.
“D’you want to feed him as well?” she instead asked, ignoring him again.
James felt as invisible as the thestral as he didn’t speak or move. He knew Regulus didn’t like him much because of his association with Sirius and he didn’t want to start anything now.
“Not today,” he murmured before turning around and heading right back.
Pandora huffed as she picked up her empty basket and started in his footsteps but she stopped and looked over her shoulder, “Coming?”
He snapped out of his daze and nodded, hurrying up after her.
“It’s a type of magical horse,” was all he said though he felt something niggling at the back of his mind from the memory, like he was missing something there.
They stopped at a glass case with only a few wands resting within it. Cosme gestured to it, “These are all of our thestral hair wands, which are very rare and extremely powerful- you will be the first of my customers to ever buy one.” He ran a hand over the glass, “They can only be wielded by someone who has accepted death.”
Regulus eyed it warily, his eyes drifting over the different woods and lengths while James tried to parse out his words. Is he referring to Regulus’ dark past with death eaters, they were certainly around a lot of death. Or was it something emotional? Was it something else? Didn’t everyone accept death as a part of life? This was so damned frustrating.
“Do any of them call out to you?” he asked, leaning in closer.
Regulus shrugged and pointed to one, again looking to James as if for reassurance and he nodded along.
“Black walnut, medium length- give it a spin,” he suggested, taking the wand out of the case and placing it in his hands.
Regulus nervously pointed the wand away from any of them and practiced the spell James had taught him- “ Lumos!”
Nothing happened.
“Yes I imagine you would not agree with black walnut- very in tune with their master’s emotions they are,” Cosme hmphed before suggesting another wand, “Dogwood perhaps?”
Again nothing happened when Regulus cast the incantation correctly and James could see his mounting frustration.
“Are you sure you’re not a squib boy?” he asked skeptically, coming in close to scan him.
“This is worthless,” Regulus said as he frowned and took a step back, physically putting space between him and all things magic.
Picking a wand was the penultimate wizarding experience- it was what every young witch and wizard looked forward to before going to Hogwarts and ultimately, the rest of their life. He hated how tough Regulus was finding it though he was no stranger to adversity.
Cosme began muttering under his breath, pacing back and forth as he ran a hand through his beard, clearly lost in thought. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with an idea. Without another word, he darted toward the back and he reappeared just as quickly moments later, the soft slap of bare feet against the floor the only sound announcing his return. Had he been barefoot this whole time? James asked himself.
“It’s obvious,” he said and opened a long black box to reveal a wand nestled on top of a velvet cushion. “Give this a try.”
Regulus huffed but accepted it reluctantly. This time, as the charm slipped from his lips, it took root, transforming the tip of his wand into a dazzling kaleidoscope of color. It was no ordinary Lumos as the wand’s end seemed to shimmer like a living prism, scattering rays of pink and red that danced across Cosme’s face, catching the light in his pale eyes and setting them aglow.
“Cypress,” he breathed.
James quickly disguised the involuntary gasp that escaped his throat with a cough. Remus’ wand had also been cypress. It seemed he couldn’t go a single moment without stumbling upon some quiet reminder of his friends, their absence woven into the fabric of his every breath.
And yet, when Regulus smiled—a rare, unguarded expression—it felt like the most magical thing in the shop, brighter than any of the enchanted wares around them.
____________
“Oh he got a new wand? That’s lovely,” Lily grinned, looking at him in the mirror as she tied her hair back.
“He just needs to learn a bit of tact,” James cringed, remembering Regulus’ warming charm that was as scorching as an oven and his tickling charm that ended up hitting him, and a mother and child that were innocently walking beside them.
“It’s like being a first-year all over again. How cute,” she said with a smile, and James felt his heart swell a little at the thought. Regulus was finally getting the chance to rewrite a chapter of his life that had been so difficult—a fresh start he’d once only dreamed of. James supposed, in the midst of everything, this was one silver lining.
“Hey, I wanted to ask what’s the meaning behind cypress wood? If you recall?” he asked suddenly, crossing his arms over his midsection as he leaned against the doorway.
“Want to pursue being a wandmaker?” she winked jokingly. “Well Remus and I once spent an entire evening looking all of ours up and his was also cypress. Cypress wands work well with those who are brave and heroic- the ‘heroes of their own story’ types of people. They bond with wizards who are self-sacrificing and noble. Remus didn’t think any of that described him but he’s in Gryffindor so it wasn’t too far off, why?”
“Oh just, that wand didn’t work for Regulus but I can see why,” he replied before quickly escaping back to his room, a sinking feeling landing in his gut as he considered her words.
James would hardly consider Regulus the self-sacrificing type but Evan’s letter floated back into the forefront of his mind. That was one of the last things Regulus ever said- he needed to get back to it.
He sat down on the floor, crossed his legs over one-another, and delved down to his mental walls, however shaky they were. Regulus had only given him a rudimentary training in Occlumency and while he wasn’t the best at it, he was still pretty good at going back into his old memories and sorting through them.
Finding the one with Evan wasn’t all too difficult considering how recent it was and acting as a bystander in his own mind, he looked over the letter once more.
How could he have forgotten the damned letter? Sudden panic washed through him as he read through it, ideas rushing past him faster than he could even process them.
Regulus defected, James knew this, but he said he ‘found a way to stop him’ meaning there was something new, some additional catalyst that pushed him towards making a real tangible move against Voldemort instead of just defecting symbolically.
He was convinced he was going to die- in fact he planned on it, considering the letter.
That’s why he got thestral hair as his wand core, because he walked towards death like he knew it, completely unafraid when faced with it.
James just needed to piece together what he knew now. Regulus had been cursed—or so the working theory went. So something had happened between his grim determination to die and the person standing before him now.
But what had changed? And what had he meant about Voldemort not truly being immortal? About “slowing him down”? James regretted not analyzing the letter more carefully before now, because whatever suicidal plan Regulus had devised suddenly cast everything into a sharper, more intriguing light.
Once Lily left with Harry to go to her book club, he apparated to Grimmauld again.
____________
When he arrived, he was, for the first time, a bit scared.
He still couldn’t believe all that Kreacher had done for him after he was cursed from healing him all the way to tucking him into Regulus’ bed and he felt humbled, to say the least.
He had been out of it then but Kreacher would never realise how much James had truly valued his care. It felt a bit like his mum was back, helping him whenever he was ill and laying in the same spot Regulus did, feeling the divot in the mattress beneath him where he slept was like they were sleeping together again.
James would never be able to express his gratitude for that haggard old elf.
Though when he entered, he found Kreacher…sweeping of all things.
“Hello,” he said, looking around the foyer.
Kreacher hunched over, gripping a small broom as he diligently swept the wooden floor. A thick layer of dust clung to every surface, and the pile he was gathering was nearly as tall as he was—a comical, yet impressive testament to his determination.
“James is back again,” he said, setting his broom aside and stepping closer to him. He suddenly snapped his fingers and popped into existence on top of a decorative table beside him. Wordlessly, he tugged on his sleeve and James moved to pull it up to expose the bandage still wrapped around it.
It had healed relatively well, whatever that really meant from a necrotizing curse. His arm had gone a bit concave where the wound hit, the flesh from there having been consumed by it and a nasty scar remained, as though his skin had literally been manually pulled and stitched together. It was a bit grotesque but he was alive and that was all that mattered.
Kreacher nodded in approval and let go, hopping down and taking up his broom again.
James thanked him before stepping past him to go up the stairs and once he made it to the top, he actually heard Kreacher humming a little tune.
This house finally had a bit of life in it again.
____________
After another evening of going through all the papers he’d sorted, he was, as per usual, thoroughly confused.
It was incredibly frustrating trying to read Regulus’ papers- they were the ravings of a madman with talks of immortality and life after death and facts about dark artefacts. However, James was beginning to make some sense of it in that most of his early works centered around immortality because apparently, that was something Voldemort boasted about quite often.
Via Regulus’ work, James came to learn that the average wizard’s lifespan was about 140 years give or take but there were many exceptions to the rule, some living up to 300 or 400 years of age- a rather long time James supposed. It also went the other way, many of his friends, even his parents, died incredibly young though that was far from natural now wasn’t it.
Apparently, Voldemort was around the age of 40 when Regulus had taken these notes- how did he even know that? Either way, his talks about always being there to rule of their world were not just hypotheticals in that he would live to an old age but that he actually cracked the code to living forever.
It made his stomach clench around itself to read these. James wondered when it was that Regulus had the time to do all of this work and how he was able to stay completely silent about it. It was like he had only known half of Regulus when he had given himself up completely to him in return.
It was hard not to feel bitter.
Though Regulus' notes were a bit like reading a complex book in that James found himself slowly becoming hungrier to learn more information, to keep reading on so he could get to the conclusion of this winding and confusing trail Regulus had left behind for him.
His wand ringing shook him a bit as he set aside the parchment he was on to rub at his eyes.
Time always slipped past him whenever he was here so he set hourly alarms to keep track of what he was doing. He had about one hour left before he’d have to go but small taps from the hallway caught his attention and he turned to see Kreacher arriving at the door, a tray held between his hands.
“What’s this?’ he asked, sitting back on his haunches as he straightened his back. All of this leaning over the floor would surely age him about twenty years as his bones clicked every time he stretched in a different direction.
“James is being here three hours and is not being eating once,” he tutted and set the tray on the floor in front of him, right over all of his work.
“Kreacher, I can’t, I need to-” he tried but Kreacher wasn’t having any of it as he set everything up, revealing a simple sandwich and crisps.
Kreacher was far from loving and tender as he served him but he did everything with a quiet sort of intensity. He wasn’t forcing James to eat nor was he begging but he simply cared about whether he ate or not. It reminded him a bit of McGonagall who was shrewd and discerning but always maintained the wellbeing of her students by keeping a watchful eye over them.
“Thank you,” he said instead of trying to fight him. His stomach growled embarrassingly loud so he didn’t hesitate to snatch up a couple of crisps.
“James is wasting his time,” Kreacher eventually said, much quieter than before. He hesitated in the doorway, keeping his eyes averted as though James could see what it was holding him back from speaking freely in them.
“What do you mean?” he asked as he took a bite of the sandwich, savouring the taste- it was rather good for something so simple.
“Master Regulus was being very…confused before. Kreacher is thinking James wants to know what is happening to him, yes?” James nodded so he continued. “Regulus is being very confused at the start, many of this is not being important.” He gestured to the right half of the room where most of the early dated items were.
James filed that piece of information away, though it was difficult to process. To make sense of everything, he’d need to start at the very beginning—a daunting task given the weight of it all. Still, it was more than Kreacher had ever shared before, and James could see how much it pained the elf to speak of it. That alone deserved acknowledgment.
“Kreacher, can I ask…did Regulus get into a fight with Walburga before it happened? Is that why he wanted to kill himself?”
Kreacher looked affronted, as though he’d said something truly despicable.
“Master Regulus would never be killing himself! He is being brave and strong and is the heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Master Regulus is being courageous and smart- he is being discovering the hor-.” He abruptly cut himself off. His expression morphed from anger to horror as he started hitting himself with his own small hands, “Bad Kreacher, bad Kreacher.”
James grabbed him to stop him from banging his head against the wall, “Kreacher, stop!” He urged but it was futile, he wasn’t his master so he had no reason to listen to him, especially if he believed himself to have defied his original master.
“Kreacher is not being allowed to say this. Kreacher did not mind himself, you must curse Kreacher!” he shouted as he fought against James but their sizes were vastly different so it was really a losing battle as he continued struggling until he tired himself out, leaving him gasping in his arms.
“Look, I’m going to forget you said anything and I’ll let you go if you promise not to hit yourself okay?”
The elf stayed silent so James let go and he nimbly crawled out of his grip and back towards the entrance of the room. With one last broken look at James, he left.
Gods he looked so much like Regulus with that look.
This house truly did a number on all of those within it.
___________
When James arrived home, he trudged up the stairs only to freeze mid-step. He wasn’t alone. Standing outside his door, shivering slightly, was Regulus.
“Reg?” James hurried over, concern sharpening his tone as he crouched beside him. His hand instinctively found Regulus’ cheek, tilting his face up to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Regulus swatted his hand away, but the grin spreading across his face, dimpling his cheek, was entirely unexpected. “Right on time- you are truly an evil man, James Potter.”
James blinked, thrown off balance. “What’s happening here?” he asked, still bracing for some dire revelation. After all, it wasn’t every day Regulus showed up at his door unannounced. Not that James wasn’t thrilled, of course.
“Why don’t you let me in, and I’ll tell you all about it,” Regulus said with a smug twist to his lips.
James didn’t need convincing. He unlocked the door and led them inside, setting down his keys and coat. Regulus lingered for a moment, taking in the space. James was grateful he’d tidied up that morning, though Harry’s toys, scattered in their usual chaotic glory, were beyond saving.
“You seriously put a hair-changing potion in our morning tea?” he blurted, spinning around to glare at him.
James froze, blinking in confusion, before doubling over in laughter. “That was in second year!”
“James, it was literally my first day of school!” Regulus shot back, his indignation melting into laughter despite himself. “My hair was pink for three days ,” he stressed, trying and failing to sound serious.
“It was supposed to last a week,” James admitted through his chuckles. “But we didn’t have enough time to brew it properly. Ran out of time that night.”
“Oh, how tragic,” Regulus deadpanned, though the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement.
James grinned at the memory, his mind flashing back to the chaos he and Sirius had caused that day. Sneaking into the Potions classroom on the first night back, brewing the potion in the dead of night—it had been hectic, risky, and utterly worth it. He could still picture the rainbow-haired Slytherins wandering the halls in stunned disbelief. If only he’d had a camera.
“And the gum? Where did that come from,” he spouted, dropping onto the sofa.
He looked well, smiling and laughing openly, a far cry from some of his other appointments with Mayfield.
He’d been going to them alone now as he goes twice a week and he said himself that he would like to go alone sometimes, just to be able to experience it for himself and take some of the edge off and James agreed, wanting whatever he was most comfortable with. James would apparate him there and wait out in the lobby and he’s always coming out of them every time relatively at ease and laden full of questions James was happy to answer but it would seem today he was on trial for all his pranks.
“The one that made you all sound like different animals? That was genius really, courtesy of Remus,” he laughed, sitting down next to him.
Regulus leaned back and James wound his arm over the back of the sofa, pulling them closer together.
“I just can’t believe you, Mayfield and I have been going through some of my school memories to catch up with familiar names and faces and I just can’t believe what I’ve been seeing. You were a right nightmare,” he groaned, looking up at him through his eyelashes, mischief twinkling in them.
“I rather think I was a lot of fun,” he huffed.
Regulus suddenly leaned in close, pushing himself up off the cushion to press a soft kiss to his lips and the instant they made contact, James felt like he had melted into a puddle of soft wax. Regulus truly didn’t realise the power he held over him. It felt like all of the stress from Grimmauld place had slipped off of him now that they were together.
His earlier conversation with Marc popped up in his mind and he straightened a bit as he asked, “Reg?”
“Hmm?” he replied, wide-eyed and dazed.
“I was wondering if-.”
Shuffling and the subsequent sound of a door unlocking cut him off and he inwardly groaned.
Lily walked in with a sleeping Harry glued to her front, his head lolling off to the side and she kept having to heave him up. He hated walking when he was sleepy as he got all fussy about it though in the daytime he was all over the place, slipping from their grasp like it was poisonous.
“Oh! Hello,” Lily said, green eyes darting between the two of them, a smile already appearing on her lips.
Regulus looked like he had just been caught in the girl’s dorm, “Hi.”
“How are you?” she asked as she set down her keys and bag. Nothing fazes her really, James was sure she could walk in on a mariachi band playing in their living room and she’d just join right on in the fun.
“I’m okay, thanks, you?” he asked awkwardly and James wanted to smile. He and Lily had yet to be properly acquainted besides their brief encounter at the cafe.
“Yeah good, I would come over and join you but I’m afraid I have to put this one to bed,” she gestured to Harry with a playful roll of her eyes.
“Right well, I should get out of your hair I-,” Regulus started but Lily quickly put up a hand,
“No need at all,” and her grin as she said it was so genuine his heart squeezed. She waved a little hand and disappeared down the corridor without another word.
“Have you had dinner yet?” he asked him suddenly and Regulus shook his head.
That was their evening plans set then as he stood up and headed over to the kitchen as the night was far from over.