There’s a cardinal rule among teachers.
Don’t date the parent.
It’s messy and complicated and it’s like begging for a slap in the face from the universe. (Pandora’s words not his) Every teacher gets the urge, especially when you teach the smaller grades and all the parents are young and gorgeous and not victim to crippling late life baldness and teenage angst inflicted from their crotch demons.
Regulus, in all his four years of teaching, has never broken the cardinal rule. He’s actually never even had the impulse to surprisingly. He claims it’s because of his amazing self control, but Sirius just says he’s a prude. Nonetheless! He’s never, ever, thought about dating one of his student’s parents.
Now enter James Potter.
***
Regulus isn’t having a good day.
Sometimes several small inconveniences pile up in one day and snowball into a huge mess that metaphorically tips over and heads straight towards the little cabin down the hill that is Regulus’ mental state. The snowball is barreling down that hillside and it’s about to obliterate him.
He’s trying, he really is. Regulus knows he’s being slightly less energetic than his usual, offering less smiles, being less interactive with his kids. He’s trying to focus on the lesson, but he’s just so tired.
This morning he burnt his toast, then his coffee machine broke down, then he stepped into a pound of dog crap on his way out the door, then after he walked several miles down for a fucking coffee, the shop was closed, and everyone knows an uncaffeinated Regulus is a pissed Regulus. Then before his 2 pm art class he was 14 minutes late because some asshole parked their stupid ugly yellow Toyota in his reserved staff parking spot which led to Regulus having to park down the street and oh guess what? Yeah, step in another pile of dog shit! Once he finally got into the building without a piano falling on his head and entered his class he got death barbie pink paint splashed on him by a misplaced can of acrylic.
Despite all of this! Regulus has not snapped. He has not taken his anger with the universe on a child because he is not his mother. He has not even called up Pandora just to rage rant. He simply wants nothing more than to go home, flop on his bed and recluse from society for four to seven business days. That is the plan, and everything is going to plan. Because when the clock hits 5 pm every little child in his classroom shuffles out, waving goodbye to him and their classmates, dragged out by their guardians.
Once they all leave Regulus can turn off his lights, lock his door, and go home. Soon enough they all leave. Every last of the stragglers soon is taken out and he’s finally free because everyone is gone and-
One of them is not gone.
Regulus holds back a scream.
He does a double take. He rubs his eyes. He checks his clock. ‘5:12’ it reads. Yes it’s past 5. The pick up time is 5. What’s going on? Why is there still a tiny second grader in his classroom? God Regulus feels delirious. He just wants to go home.
At the end of the day though, Regulus is still a teacher.
“Harry, do you know where your mother is?” Regulus says gently as he approaches the small boy squatted down by the cubbies.
The small boy looks up at him with his big green eyes through thick framed glasses and the look of pure innocence almost makes Regulus melt into a puddle. Yes, he is tired and half a bad hair day away from committing a war crime but damn why’d they keep making these kids so cute.
“I don’t know where she is. Usually she’s always here.” He says assuredly. Then his eyes sink a little as though a realization just hit him, “Do you think she forgot about me?” He asks, his voice cracking like an egg shell. Sirens go off in Regulus’ head. He’s been a teacher long enough to recognize the tell tale signs of a child’s impending breakdown. He refuses to deal with a crying child without coffee. He physically can’t.
“Hey! I’m sure she’d never forget about you.” He says quickly, thinking on his feet. “How about this bud? I’ll get you some crayons and paper then you can draw me something. It’ll be like class but just the two of us.” Regulus says with a smile. Immediately Harry brightens and nods enthusiastically, completely forgetting his previous sorrow.
Once Regulus hands him a ten pack of crayons (decidedly not crayola because he passionately hates the brand) and some scrap paper the boy happily doodles away without a second thought making Regulus breath a sigh of relief.
“What are you drawing Harry?” Regulus asks softly as he lowers himself to the floor making him level to the boy.
“My dad!” He exclaims happily. He’s speedy, already done sketching the body and a remnant of what Regulus guesses is a head. Harry changes his colors, taking out one after another as he begins to excitedly bring vibrance to his drawing. Regulus doesn’t think he’s ever met Harry’s father. He’s only ever interacted with Harry’s mother, Lily. He supposes Harry takes after his father, guessing by how Harry scribbles out a heap of black hair by crayon.
Regulus smiles at the small boy’s energy, “Yeah? Tell me about him.”
“Well he’s really funny, and he takes me out to ice cream every two weeks and he always reminds me to wear sunscreen when we go out in the summer, even though uncle Pete says I won’t get sunburnt anyway because I’m from Colombia!” He explains loudly and fast. Everything he does and says is fast, which of course Regulus has learned through their past classes. It’s filled which such childhood innocence that Regulus can’t help but he endeared.
“What language do you speak at home Harry?” Regulus asks with curiosity.
“Colombian.” Harry answered without even looking up.
Immediately Regulus burst out into laughter. “Do you mean Spanish Harry?” He asks once he’s calmed his laughter. Harry looked at him curiously before seeming to accept Regulus’ words, “You must be right.” His reaction made Regulus laugh even more. It’s sweet.
“Continue telling me about your dad Harry,” Regulus pries lightly, wishing to engage the boy more. He turns more towards him so he fully faces the small boy.
“He has a very cool truck and he likes to read and he’s- Dad!” Harry suddenly shouts, rising to his feet in a haste.
Regulus shifts and shit.
Harry runs over to a man by the doorway, grinning brightly and all but tackles him. Clinging on to him like a koala. This leads the gorgeous man to burst out into laughter and pick the child up as if he weighed nothing.
Regulus feels lightheaded.
The man is stunning. Six feet of tan skin with dark hair, the most striking brown eyes Regulus has ever seen framed perfectly by a pair of black rimmed glasses. He’s like a Greek statue, sculpted by Myron or Pheidias. Everything about him screams vibrance. So intense, and bright. The richness of an oil painting all concentrated into a person. Regulus is so screwed.
The man finally shifts his gaze to Regulus and takes a pause for just a brief moment before he’s extending his hand for Regulus to shake. “I’m Harry’s father, James.” He says, and Regulus all but melts again. His voice is like honey. He’s officially addicted to it. It drips into his very soul and Regulus wants it like a child tasting sugar cane for the first time. He’s absolutely high off it.
Regulus quickly takes the man's hand as to not seem awkward. It’s awfully warm and once skin touches skin it sends its everlasting warmth through Regulus’ body. “Regulus.” He manages to get out.
James’ face splits into a blinding grin, “And here I thought teachers didn’t have first names. For all I was aware you were born as a Mr. Black.” He says teasingly.
Regulus has never heard his title be spoken so seductively, it makes Regulus blush in an instant despite how mortifying that realization is.
“I am a rare exception, Mr Potter.” Regulus replies back with a small smile in return.
James' grin somehow becomes even wider at Regulus’ response and the pure light it emits puts the sodding sun to shame. He’s beautiful. A beauty not even a painting could possibly capture, which was a huge claim. Regulus was a firm believer that art could illustrate anything. This man though? James. He was otherworldly.
And fuck he has a tattoo, Regulus realizes. He missed it at first, distracted from it by well everything else. It’s there though. Sitting on James’ toffee brown skin beautifully is a pair of antlers, black ink branded across smooth muscle just visible from above his shirt collar. Regulus wants to lick it.
“I am sorry for the late pick up and keeping you here,” James motions to the small boy in his arms, “His mother had a last minute engagement so she had to call me to cover.”
These few words hit Regulus like a pile of bricks because of course how could he possibly have forgotten? This beautiful man was his student’s father. As in, a married man, with a child, and a wife. Regulus was thirsting over a married man. This perfectly aligns with his luck today! It’s just his fortune isn’t it? Regulus had always had a thing for falling for the straight boy when he was younger.
Regulus pastes a brief smile on his face, “It was really no trouble,” he forces out.
Suddenly James’ expression freezes momentarily before he raises a finger to his own cheek. “Uh, you actually have a little something right there.” He says with an easy smile.
If Regulus could flush even redder he probably would’ve.
He quickly goes to try and wipe whatever was stuck on his face, but before he can move more James reaches out and swipes a thumb over his cheek. It’s a quick movement. Barely a second worth of touch but Regulus’ mind shuts down.
“I’m guessing all the paint you are sporting isn’t some big live abstract artwork?” He teases while raising up his thumb to reveal a splash of hot pink paint.
Regulus feels like his face is currently hot pink. Brilliant. “It’s not.” He says plainly. He braces a look down at his green sweater, well previously green. Currently it resembles more pink than green. Regulus wants to genuinely dig a hole in the earth and die.
James smiles again, he needs to stop doing that or else Regulus will actually implode. “Shame, you wear pink so well.” He says with a smirk.
Oh Regulus is screwed.
So so so so, fucking screwed.
***
Regulus deals with his problems like any other sane normal human being does.
He ignores them.
That night when he went to bed he thought about James Potter. About his blinding smile and teasing voice, and then mentally beats himself with a chair for having such thoughts about a married man. Every night since has been essentially the same routine.
Married, married, married, married, married, married, married, Lily, married, married, married, married, father, married, married, married, married, wife, married, married, married, straight, married.
It’s like a mantra, he repeats it over and over. Drilling it into his head hoping one day, one day, it’ll get to him. He can’t have James. He’s married, he’s a father, he’s straight. He has a wife and a kid. God, Regulus is a horrible person.
If this was college Regulus, and James wasn’t married and a father and straight, the things he’d do to the man. College Regulus probably would’ve already fucked James by now.
Regulus isn’t in college though.
He’s nothing but a children’s art teacher with a shit ton of student loan debt, and James Potter is a married man. A gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous married man, but a married man nonetheless.
So Regulus will ignore it. He will ignore it forever and will stop thinking about James Potter, the gorgeous married man, and he’ll take these stupid thoughts and nights to his grave. He doesn’t have to deal with the guilt if he doesn’t even think about the act to begin with, right?
“Out of sight, out of mind.” Is what he mutters to himself before he opens the doors to his art class on Saturday. It’ll be fine! James never picks up Harry on Saturdays, so the chances of them meeting again are nonexistent. Sure, he’ll have to see Lily, but the woman rarely comes up to him during pick up so there won’t even be a chance for him to accidentally reveal he was previously thinking about jumping her husband’s bones the other night! It’ll be fine.
Regulus let’s all the kids in for the day when the clock strikes 2, it’s all fine. Regulus greets them all with a smile and motions for them to take their seats, it’s all fine. Regulus takes out the water colors, and they all get to work on their projects, it’s all fine. Regulus gets them to wipe down the tables and put their art on the drying rack, it’s all fine. Regulus gets to pick up time with no hiccups, it’s all fine.
“Got through the lesson without any paint incidents, Mr Black?” A honeyed voice says from behind him.
Regulus freezes.
Everything is not fine.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
“Mr Potter.” Regulus says turning around quickly, almost knocking over a pile of papers laying by the corner of his desk.
The sight he’s greeted with makes red rush to his ears. James is in a tight crimson t-shirt that clings to his chest deliciously. It’s casual but it leaves nothing to the imagination. It hugs his muscles in all the right places and the red color of it compliments his dark skin beautifully. He thinks he might be at risk of drooling. Oh, Regulus’ mother was right, he’s going to hell.
James smiles and Regulus begins to recite bible chapters in his head to keep the blush rising to his cheeks.
“That is me, yes, I’d prefer you use my name though.” He says slyly with the quirk of a perfect eyebrow and teasing smile. Regulus wonders if anything about him is imperfect. He wants desperately to find out and adore him regardless if not more for it.
Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges-
“Only if you use mine.” He says evenly.
Ruth, 1 Samuel, 2 Samuel, 1 Kings, 2 Kings, 1 Chronicles, 2 Chronicles-
James shifts his feet, chuckling slightly as he runs a hand through his hair absentmindedly. He gazes straight into Regulus’ eyes with intensity as his words roll off his tongue. “Regulus it is.”
Regulus’ mouth goes dry.
He has never loved his name more. Each syllable tumbles off so smoothly, as if it was melting butter. He wants for it to be played in his head on repeat. He never wishes to forget this moment, the moment where James Potter first says his name. Says it so reverently, like a goddamn prayer.
“Thank you, James.” Regulus replies, just slightly quieter than he intended it to be.
James smiles again. It’s still so bright, and warm and makes Regulus’ insides go fucking fuzzy but it’s…softer. Like this moment between the two of them is something private. It feels like it is. When Regulus is in James’ presence it makes him forget anything and everything else. Makes him forget they’re in a yellow walled classroom plastered with messy scrabbles and paint prints, surrounded by loud children and their bedraggled guardians.
The private moment is broken soon enough though, as a shrill scream is heard across the room floating over the other conversations. “Daaaaaaaaaaadddddd!!!!” A small voice yells. Instantly James turns his head towards the sound and bashfully looks back at Regulus.
“We’re working on volume control.” He says diffidently. Rubbing his palm against the back of his neck consciously. It’s so endearing. Regulus can’t help but smile.
Someone needs to sedate him.
Jeremiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, Daniel, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obiadah-
“I’ll see you Saturday Regulus,” James says with a wink before turning his back and moving to go attend to his son.
By the time all the parents leave, James included, and the lights of the art room are shut off, Regulus has gone through all of Old Testament.
He is so screwed.
***
“Oh, you are so screwed!” Barty cackles.
Regulus is drinking on a Thursday night, which he’s come to accept is his rock bottom. Regulus doesn’t even like alcohol. He finds it bitter and it reminds him of his parents but currently he’s faced with bigger problems at hand than his crippling childhood trauma and distaste for the burn of brandy.
His repeated mantra of ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ has failed him spectacularly as James has definitely not been out of sight or mind. Every week without fail James shows up to pick up Harry. Throwing him off center every time he flashes one of those blinding smiles. He’ll always come up to Regulus and ask obnoxiously considerate questions, like how his day was, and offering tips on how to get acrylic out of wool. Regulus never hates it though, he knows he’ll feel like shit once the conversation ends but whenever James is within a distance to him he feels so undeniably happy. He’s stuck in his head like a melodic song that he can’t remember the name of. It plays over and over again but he can’t catch it. He can’t have it.
James is not his. It can’t ever be his James. Because it’s not. It’s Lily’s James. Not Regulus’.
So here he is, on the floor of his own apartment building with a bottle of brandy between his fingers. Regulus was usually a very private person, he’s a good secret keeper. He managed to hide his sexuality from his hyper-religious parents for 18 years, in comparison everything else came way easier.
He couldn’t keep this in though, not when it was eating at him like this. His therapist Minvera had once told him he has a tendency to shut people out when he felt vulnerable, he actually probably should’ve booked an appointment with her instead of doing this. The thing is though, he felt scared. As stupid as it sounds.
He was scared of the fact he was falling for James hard, and he was even more scared of the lack of control he could demonstrate in his presence.
At this particular realization he promptly dropped everything and called Pandora. He should’ve known, nothing in his friend group is a secret for too long. Before long his phone was blowing up, and several of his friends, and his brother somehow ended up at his doorstep. At least Panda had the decency to bring booze.
“Regulus I don’t know what to say,” Pandora has gently before tentatively prying the bottle out of his fingers to down some for herself. “You were warned,” She comments with her lips by the rim of the drink.
“Personally I knew this day would come, if any of us were to become a dirty mistress it’d have been Reggie.” Sirius says from his place on the couch, hanging upside down in one of those weird positions he gets into once he gets enough alcohol in his system.
Regulus scoffs because he knows that is untrue. “You’re genuinely delusional, because between the two of us it’d be you as the other women, you fucking harlot,” He curses.
Evan groans from his place in Barty’s lap, sliding a hand down his face,“Reg, stop using your weird AP English words and just call Sirius a whore like the rest of us.” Which Barty cackles at. Though really Barty could probably find a meteor crashing into earth hilarious if drunk enough.
“You all suck, I’m calling Dorcas.” Regulus says as he lets his head knock down against the front of the couch. He misses Dorcas, she’s one of the only ones with sense. And an alcohol tolerance.
“Yeah I’m sure she’d love to be interrupted during her vacation with tales about how you’ve fallen tits over ass for one of your student’s fit dad in the what? One month you’ve known him.” Barty mocks, “Oh, hello Dorcas! How was your trip? How wonderful! What’s new? Ah well nothing much, just Reggie falling in love with a heterosexual married father!” His mockery is only stopped when Regulus throws an impeccably aimed cushion at his head.
When his friends plus unfortunate womb sharer appeared and demanded they allow him in, Regulus was rather outnumbered. Also Sirius threatened to start scream-singing Bohemian Rhapsody and get the cops called on them if he wasn’t let in. They said it was an “intervention” when truly for the past 3 hours all that’s happened is them passing off a bottle of brandy Regulus is shocked they haven’t finished, a lot of jokes at Regulus’ expense, and the blasting of Lana Del Ray’s “The Other Women.”
Really, Regulus has not gotten any helpful advice from this experience, he’s just significantly drunker than when they started.
The bottle has somehow gotten into the grips of Sirius so Regulus is not ashamed when he unceremoniously snatches it out of his brother’s hands and downs it, bottoms up, to the shocked cheers of his friends.
If this is what James Potter does to him, Regulus is screwed. No doubt about it. So so screwed.
***
Similar to how Regulus likes to ignore his problems, he’s also very talented in avoiding them.
His problem is James Potter.
So he will use his talent to avoid him. Simple enough.
Every Saturday Regulus very uncharacteristically goes out and seeks a conversation with anyone but James. Regulus digs up excuse after excuse to chat with a parent even if it makes him want to physically bash his head through a canvas. Felicity Bell is a very nice woman, but if Regulus has to listen to her talk about her collection of assorted scarves again he’ll actually hand in a two week notice.
On one very desperate occasion where he ran out of conversation with Frank Longbottom he was actually forced to whip out his phone and speed-dial the number at the top of his contact list which was unfortunately Barty. He was delighted to have an excuse to rag on Regulus and just wouldn’t shut up for the next two days about it.
James has most definitely picked up on his weird behavior. For the past three weeks Regulus has not even made eye contact with him. Everytime Regulus has his back to James he can feel eyes on him. As if James’ presence is imprinted on him. He knows James is looking and it takes everything in Regulus to not look back. Just one quick, fleeting glance of the man. He knows he can’t though. Because if Regulus takes one look he knows he won’t be able to look away ever again.
Therefore it is agreed upon. Regulus will avoid the sunshine incarnate that shows up in his classroom at 5 o’clock sharp on Saturday nights for the betterment of his heart and mental health. He isn’t exactly happy about it, but he knows it’s for the best.
The breaking point is in the form of a paint-supported fist fight between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.
Truthfully Regulus can’t really even call it a ‘fist fight’ it was more like a fist..attempt? Between the two boys. It was more just trying to get paint into each other's faces while wrestling for control. By the end of the day both boys and Regulus were soakedin a multicolor of paint. He really should start wearing more paint friendly fabrics because the amount of scrubbing Regulus has had to do in the past months is simply insufferable.
There isn’t exactly a manual for how to deal with a situation such as this but Regulus reasoned it’d be a bit too underwhelming to explain the whole ordeal over the phone or a rushed explanation after class so Regulus had decided it’d be best to have a sit down and push for future procedure to prevent future acrylic enhanced altercation.
Narcissa was easy enough, he could just talk to her at their upcoming wine night in a few days.
The Potters on the other hand.
Regulus had been doing so good. He’d made it weeks without having to interact with James Potter. He’d been doing so good. Now, here he sat behind his desk in his overpriced spinny chair fiddling with his hands because he’d have to face the subject of his sinful desires. Anyway this meeting went he’s going to be fucked, and not in the fun way.
Perhaps God would show some grace to Regulus and Lily Evans would be the one to show up through the door. It wouldn’t exactly be pleasant to have to see and talk with the beautiful and charming wife of his crush. If anything it’d make him even more guilty of his feelings as in the brief glimpses of Mrs. Potter he’s caught she's a lovely woman. It’d be better than seeing James though.
Because Regulus is so weak, and horrible, and really should’ve just stayed home.
Yet Regulus began to remember the stains of red and purple on his new pair of jeans and gathered it’d be better to just get it done with. He needed to push aside his stupid feelings and focus on being a teacher first. A teacher who really really doesn’t want to have to throw away another wool sweater.
“Regulus?”
Be a teacher first, teacher first, teacher first, teacher first-
“James.” Regulus breathed out, and spinned his chair to face the man.
Big fucking mistake Regulus.
The moment Regulus says his name James lights up. Like a goddamn candle. He’s wearing a tight flannel, with the sleeves rolled up. It’s not suggestive in the slightest but the sight of James’ toned arms through the fabric of the shirt make Regulus feel feral.
Sweet baby Jesus, this is why he should not be allowed around James Potter.
James walks over and makes himself comfortable in the green plastic chair Regulus situated directly in front of his desk. He actually had to steal the chair from Ms.Vanity who teaches the 6th graders in the room next to his, because in his own classroom he only possessed tiny stools which he felt would be way too ridiculous for such a big man like James to be even marginally comfortable in.
Regulus realized James was actually waiting for him to speak.
“I’m sure Harry has informed you, but yesterday he got into a….confrontation with a fellow student.” Regulus swallowed.
“I’ve been made aware there was some kind of conflict, but when asked to expand on it Harry was actually reduced to babbling. I was able to catch barely half of it before he burst into tears.” James addressed with a sigh, putting a hand to a temple like the mere recall of the event was a migraine incoming.
Regulus shook his head in understanding, “Well you see just before clean up time your son and his classmate Draco got into a verbal spat about...geckos.” This took a moment for James to process.
“Geckos?”
Regulus sighed.
“Geckos.” He answered rather severely.
James promptly burst into laughter.
Shockingly enough Regulus joined him.
It must’ve been weird to look in on them just then, because Regulus hadn’t let out a good laugh in a while. Being able to laugh about this absolutely absurd situation felt so refreshing.
“Geckos. Harry came home in tears with paint in his hair because of an argument about geckos.” James said through bouts of laughter.
Regulus could feel tears prick his eye line from all the giggling as he answered. “Your son and his classmate clearly have very passionate and polarizing opinions on reptiles.”
“Ay dios mio, this!-Is the reason I spent my night scrubbing out paint stains on Harry's clothes.” James laughed. It’s such a wonderful thing. His laugh.
“Well I’m glad we have a shared experience. Clearly the two boys didn’t have much a regard on who got caught in their cross fire as not only was I out late mopping paint from the floors, but all this morning I had been googling tutorials on how to scrub out acrylic.” Regulus chuckled.
“It’s something man from the beginning of time has been trying to figure out. I’ve spent many a night scrolling through reddit to see if there were ways to wash out certain stains.” James remarked.
“And the answer?” Regulus inquired.
“Just throw it out.” Was James’ response that had Regulus yet again in hysterics.
It was so comfortable to be here with James. Talking about goddamn laundry. In his dimly lit classroom, only illuminated by the windows that stream the afternoon light in, James looks beautiful. The soft beams of light hit his face just right, highlighting the warm brown of his skin and the glow of his eyes behind his black rimmed glasses.. Not usually one can look breathtaking while sitting in a cheap plastic stool off Amazon, but here he was. James fucking Potter. Enigma to man. Stealer of Regulus’ heart.
When Regulus sees James off after discussing ways to talk with Harry about his behavior, James shines him one last blinding smile before waving goodbye. Regulus shuts the door behind him and sinks to the floor unceremoniously before putting his head in his hand. Because every minute of time he spent avoiding James was useless since all it took was 45 minutes with him for all that work to be reversed.
For one of the first times in his life avoiding his problems didn’t work, as in the end he came out of it still in love with James Goddamn Potter.
He was so screwed.
***
When the air turns colder from the passing seasons, so comes the academy art showcase where Regulus’ class will parade their crayon creations in front of their parents to see. It’s usually something Regulus looks forward to. To see his students show off their work to their gushing parents fills him with a sense of pride.
Watching the supportive parents cheer on their kids fulfills Regulus’ inner child that begs for his parent’s approval. Seeing these kids receive this attention and love without inducement makes Regulus feel both content and hollow. It assures him that good parents exist and his family was just the bad bean. It's a soft comfort.
Regulus has a bad feeling. Not a melancholy bittersweet emotion because of the moods he usually is put into during these times but an actual sinking feeling that feels like a warning. He almost walks out of his room to go find Pandora, but his better sense keeps him from it. She’s busy setting up for her own class’ showcase and besides Regulus would have parents filing in soon enough.
Regulus should’ve listened to the feeling.
Considering the fact when he opens his doors and parents come in, James and Lily Potter are among them.
Fuck.
Is his first thought.
Harry’s tiny hand is holding on to one of James’ hands, and his other is in Lily’s. He drags his parents around to each and every corner of the room, showing off his art joyfully. Each time he points out one of his works they both smile and nod and shower him with words of praise.
It’s the perfect little family.
Regulus feels bile rise up his throat.
He’s so fucking stupid. He’s a horrible person. A disgusting, horrible, sinful person.
He watches Lily throw her head back at something James said, and Regulus feels like ripping his own heart out. All just to stop the pounding pain in his chest. He knew James was Lily’s. Of course he knew that, and he kept telling himself that, but finally seeing them together like this? It was the true reality slapping him in the face. He couldn’t have James. Not in this life.
He briskly walked to his desk and downed his water bottle in a quick motion. The liquid burned down his throat. Like hellfire.
The next hour is spent doing something familiar, doing anything but looking at James. He endures parents pandering and answering questions that are all on the website. All just so he doesn’t have to look at James, lest he do something pathetic like cry.
The clock on the wall states that it’s 7:49. Soon enough it’ll be all over. Some parents have left already so the kids can meet their bedtimes, leaving a few families here and there still wandering Regulus’ classroom. Regulus had since run out of parents to have conversations with and so instead was intent on staring up at a rather plain painting in the corner of the classroom.
The infamous painting was of a rather sparsely decorated fruit bowl painted with earthly shades of green and orange. The whole art piece was rather muted compared to the colorfulness of every poster and hanging in the classroom. The artwork had come with the room and Regulus didn't want to put in the effort to remove it. Now it acted as a think-piece for Regulus to dwell on. Rather than think about his problems why not instead stare at a painting of misshapen pears like it holds the secrets of the universe?
“For an artist you sure have peculiar taste in art pieces.” A honey sweet voice from beside him quips.
James.
“An artist and an art teacher are two very things.” Regulus replies rather snipply.
Whatever apprehension that might’ve struck James by Regulus’ snappy tone must be pushed down under as James responds just as quickly in a still rather jovial voice. “Well that’s simply untrue. Everyone is an artist.”
“How cheesy.” Regulus sneers bitterly. “What would you know about art?”
Go away. Go away. Realize how bad I am for you. How horrible a person I am. Go away. Go away.
“I am a part of the notion of “everyone,” so technically according to my sound logic I am an artist. If you want specifics though I’ll have you know I’m a photographer.” James says. Notably not going away.
“That’s hardly the traditional definition of artist,” Regulus says in a more judgemental tone than he meant to. He sounds like his mother.
Shockingly, James laughs.
“Well Regulus I doubt you are the traditional definition of an artist,” James says assuredly, “You seem anything but traditional. You’re extraordinary.”
At that Regulus darts his head and immediately meets eyes with James who’s staring at him with the brightest smile ever. Heat rises up in his cheeks.
“I wish I could say the same for you.” Regulus chokes out, nearly forgetting how to use his voice properly.
James is still smiling, it’s infuriating.
“Maybe not extraordinary but I’m sure there are many adjectives that could work. Delightful? Charismatic? Handsome, definitely.” He grins.
“Annoying, maddening, and obtuse also work.” Regulus grumbles.
“What astounding vocabulary Reg, darling. Were you an English major? You seem like an English major.” James comments. His mood is absolutely unaffected by every jab Regulus lobs his way and his seeming nonchalance should not be attractive to Regulus but it is. Everything about this delightful maddening man is attractive to Regulus.
“Yes, I was an English Literature major.” Regulus sighs, “However I wanted to do art.”
“Parents?” James asks off handedly. It doesn’t feel like a pry so Regulus answers a little easier than he usually would with anyone else.
“The worst. They actually wanted me to do marketing. I refused though, I would’ve probably swan dived off a skytower if I was forced to do math for the rest of my life.” Regulus responded.
“He says to the marketing major.”
Regulus’ eyes go wide. “You’re joking.”
James smiles lightly at his reaction, endeared. “Nope. Wish I was. Kinda had a mid-life crisis at 22 and dropped out.”
“Further proof marketing majors who find joy in their subject don’t exist” Regulus declares which punches a huff of laughter out of James.
“I’m glad you’re not avoiding me anymore.” James says in a wistful tone, after a beat of silence.
It immediately throws Regulus back into his painful reality.
“I was never avoiding you.” Regulus says stiffly, keeping his eyes locked on the ugly painting once again. Staring so intensely at it as if it’ll catch fire from the burning of his scrutiny, all to dodge James’ gaze.
James laughs. Why is he laughing? “I know when I am unwanted.”
Regulus whips his head around, and when met once again with James’ stare he all but crumbles to his knees. His words seem like poison down Regulus’ throat, leaking down into the pit of his stomach and choking him on the way. “You are not unwanted.” I want you. It hangs in the air between them.
Something in James’ eyes shifted. He doesn’t physically move but suddenly his presence seems heavier. A look Regulus can not possibly describe crosses James’ face. James’ usual smile that is constantly plastered on his face isn’t present, instead replaced by this new expression. Regulus doesn’t feel upset about it though. He doesn’t feel discomforted from the lack of smile on James’ face. Instead, he is intrigued by the intensity of the current emotion written across James’ face. It’s like ink spilled over a letter Regulus desperately wants to decode. He wants to pry away every layer of this man until he lays bare only for Regulus to witness and worship.
“I’ll see you next Saturday Regulus.” James says. His voice is murky, and in an unrecognizable tone.
It leaves Regulus without words once again.
“Okay.” He whispers.
When James leaves, Regulus realizes the absence of all the other stragglers meaning that the conversation the two men had was unwitnessed by anyone. No one was there to see them. Witness the downfall of Regulus Black before their very eyes. No one to vouch anything that was there was truly real.
It leaves only Regulus and his decaying heart in the small classroom.
With only a hideous oil painting to see it.
Regulus is screwed. Horridly and desperately.
***
Curiously enough Regulus does not see James that Saturday.
He tries very hard to mask his disappointment at the man’s absence when it is Molly Weasley that sweeps away her son Ron and subsequently Harry after informing Regulus that she will be the one picking him up that evening as is required.
Regulus should be grateful. This is what he wanted isn’t it? Distance from James. Despite this, the entire duration of pick up time Regulus is thinking about James. Rather pathetic actually.
After cleaning up the classroom he doesn’t immediately turn off the lights and leave. He insteads sits down in his spinny chair with a sigh and just stares at the wall, back to the door. He doesn’t expect the door to be creaked open.
“I hope it’s not too late,” A honeysuckle voice calls out from behind him.
At once Regulus spins around and is met with the sight of James Potter, hair mused and flannel on. Holding the most gorgeous bouquet of fresh flowers Regulus has ever seen. Bunches of peonies and tulips peak out past the light pink paper.
“James?” Regulus exclaims, rising up from his seat. Swallowing the saliva that’s gathered up in his mouth. “Pick up times long past. Harry’s with the Weasleys.”
James smiles at him bashfully, and Regulus suddenly feels like he should sit down. Regulus quickly crosses around the desk and heads over to be closer to James who’s still staring at him with great intensity.
“I’m not here for Harry.” James says, “I’m here for you.”
He holds up the bouquet to Regulus, nudging it forward to him. Without much thought Regulus takes it in his hands, still with the same dumbfounded look on his face as before. James starts to nervously rub the back of his neck as he rambles.
“I was wondering, well- you see, there’s a new art gallery opening up across town and I was thinking, maybe, you would like to go with me? Go out with me. On a date.” He said, still nervously fidgeting.
“Oh. Oh.” The words fall out rather quickly out of Regulus’ mouth. He starts gripping the bouquet for dear life as his heart rate immediately starts speeding up. At his response James’ face started to lose its shine, as doubt creeped into his beautiful brown eyes.
“It doesn’t have to be the gallery! It can just be dinner, maybe a movie? Anything you want really!” He says quickly, “I just….really want to go out with you Regulus.”
His sincerity almost brings tears to Regulus’ eyes. Acid fills his throat, and shame floods his heart. Regulus can’t look in his eyes and say no. He spins around and starts pacing the room. Fidgeting wildly with the flowers, still clutched in his pale fingers.
“James- I- I can’t, w-we can’t.” Regulus chokes out, “It’s-it’s wrong. I can’t. Really I’m sorry.”
When Regulus turns around James’ downcast face makes his heart crack.
“I- I’m sorry, I-I guess I was reading it wrong,” Said James incredulously, “I never took you as one of those people.” He says, avoiding Regulus’ gaze. Eyes suddenly became very invested in his shoes. They’re very nice shoes, brown oxfords. Regulus wonders if he wore them specifically for Regulus.
For some reason Regulus can’t bear to see him so disappointed. “James, I-I can’t do it. My conscience would kill me. I mean, think of Lily, and Harry! I want to be with you, I really do but I can’t. I won’t allow myself to.”
Suddenly at his words James’ head shoots up. His eyes finally meet Regulus’ and his brow is creased in confusion. “Lily? What would she have to do with this?”
Regulus has the sneaking suspicion he’s miscalculated something. “You’re wife, James. She has everything to do with this. I wouldn’t be able to bear being able to have you, but not fully. The guilt would break me.” Regulus explained. His desperation coated in his voice.
James moves forward and seizes Regulus’ shaking hands, forcing him to stop pacing and face him fully. “Regulus. Lily is not my wife. I haven’t been married to her for the past 4 years.” He states slowly. The light in his eyes began to shine again. The peak of his smile lighting up his face.
“I- what?” Regulus gapes.
James holds his palms to Regulus’ face, cupping his cheeks gently. “I’m yours. Fully.”
A bright feeling begins to bloom in Regulus’ chest. Evaporating the acid in his chest, instead replacing it with something beautiful. Joy.
Because James Potter is his. Fully.
Maybe he’s not as screwed as he thought.