Chapter 5
Regardless of how good it felt, yelling at James may have been stupid. As much as he enjoyed finally expressing what he felt, Regulus regretted it the instant he saw a fraction of heartbreak in James’ eyes. When he got back downstairs to the Common Room, he made a beeline for the drinks table, downing two shots of firewhiskey before pouring himself a large cup and searching for Evan.
They were over at the beer pong table with Barty playing against Dorcas and Marlene. Evan seemed to be really enjoying themselves and Regulus was not about to disrupt that by ranting about his anger, so instead he chugged his drink and grabbed abandoned ones off the table by the fireplace and finished those too.
Yelling at James felt like a weight lifted from his chest, but a different one landed in its place, guilt. Regulus had probably drunk roughly five cups of firewhiskey before he saw James emerge from the stairwell, he looked rough. He watched as James headed over to the couch situated against the far wall of the Gryffindor Commons. He watched as James plopped down and fiddled with his fingers.
James appeared to have no ounce of happiness or excitement in his features. He seemed as though he had been drained from it all, like he was numb.
Did Regulus do that? He always thought of James as ‘the life of the party’. Regulus couldn’t think of a time where James wasn’t smiling, or making someone smile, or laugh. He can’t think of a moment where James had come across as numb like he did now.
That weight of guilt pushed heavier on Regulus’ chest. He did that. He’s the reason James Potter is numb. He’s the reason James Potter dimmed his light, and that made him sick . He wanted to convince himself he hated James, because that would be easier. He wanted to convince himself he hated Sirius and he had only ever hooked up with James because it would hurt him. But, oh, he was so wrong.
“I need another drink,” he muttered to himself under his breath, spinning around and heading back to the drinks table. This time, he made it stronger, pouring a shot of Brandy some Muggleborn had smuggled into his firewhisky.
Regulus kept drinking, kept attempting to lose himself in this party, in the music and the people and drown out his brain with the noise surrounding him at every turn.
He let the burn of the alcohol run down his throat. Over and over and over. He allowed it to set him on fire, charring his insides as it takes over each organ ember by ember.
Eventually, he had successfully numbed the doubt and anxieties in his mind enough to let the earlier guilt take over in a —frankly unconventional— way that had him heading straight to James.
James looked up just as Regulus approached. “What, come to yell at me some more? Because, honestly, I’m really not in the mood.” Regulus sat beside him, the liquor in his system doing its job to keep his confidence up but there will always be something about James Potter that has Regulus slowly melting on the inside.
“Actually, I was coming to make it up to you,” Regulus said, swinging his legs up onto the couch and across James’ lap. He chuckled lowly as he watched James retract his hands, holding them up in a surrendering manner, like he was scared to touch him.
“Oh, so you came to apologize.” James didn’t ask it like a question. More like that’s what he expected Regulus was about to say. He’s so far from the truth. Regulus only smirked, “I never apologize.”
“So what do you want then?”
His hands were still in the air yet he kept looking at Regulus like he wanted to touch. Like he wanted to feel Regulus’ skin under his hands. “You.” It was a whisper. A hoarse whisper that had Regulus revelling in the way it made James’ face turn red.
Regulus ran a hand across the back of James’ neck, letting it rest there as he maneuvered James’ face to look at him. “You can touch me, you know. No need to act like you haven’t had your hands on every inch of me already,” Regulus whispered again. He brought James so close he could hear it the moment James’ breath hitched in his throat.
But James refused to budge, keeping his hands raised even if his eyes betrayed him as they casted down to Regulus’ lips. He audibly gulped, “we can’t,” he whispered back.
“And why not?”
“Well, for one, you’re drunk,” James pointed out. “Not anymore than either of us were when this first happened.” Regulus leaned forward, pulling James closer until their lips were ghosting each other. “Regulus,” James breathed, “we can’t.”
A huff escaped his lips as he pulled back an inch. He looked at James expectantly, waiting for a good answer as to why not. “Sirius is still pissed, I— we can’t.”
Regulus swung himself so he was straddling James’ lap now, his arms locking behind his head as he shuffled so his body was flush with his. “Exactly, he’s already pissed, so what does it matter?” Regulus had always been good at taking control between the two of them. He liked initiating and he loved the way James would end it. Thinking back to the times last year that left him sweaty and panting heavily with his hair a mess and his body trembling.
It’s enough to have him pressing his lips to James fiercely and letting a quiet moan slip through as they connect. James doesn’t object, he lets them kiss for a moment. He lets him and Regulus move with each other, taste each other, breathe each other before he pulls back.
Before James had a chance to spew out some other reason why they shouldn’t, Regulus allowed his hips to roll against his, and he relished the soft groan that fell from James’ lips. “What do you want?” James asked, a hint of defeat in his voice as he stared up at Regulus like he was perfection.
If Regulus wasn’t intoxicated, he would have questioned that look. Why on Earth would James Potter look at Regulus like he was his own slice of Heaven served to him on a silver platter? There’s nothing special about him. Only abnormal.
Except his brain can’t think of that now, probably later, but not now. All it can allow him to do is think of what he wants James to do. How he wants James to make him feel.
“Well we’ve already done most things, except one,” Regulus said softly, letting his hips roll again, drinking in the groan that left James a second time. “And what’s that?”
Regulus pretended to think for a beat, smirking lightly, “well I’ve already gone down on you, I think it’s time you return the favour,” he said, leaning closer to James’ ear as he whispered, “I want you to go down on me.”
A rush blew through him as he watched the moment James’ breath caught and his skin turn red, he watched James’ eyes flood with desperate desire. Regulus slowly shimmied off of his lap and took his hand, pulling him back up the stairs to his dorm.
When the door shut, James finally allowed his hands to touch, to roam, to feel. Regulus’ skin burned under the touch like a brand was being singed to his skin, claiming him as his. Regulus thinks he’d be okay with that. He never cared for tattoos, but any mark by James is one he will take.
James’ hands glided up his sides, stopping at his neck where he pulled Regulus into him and he revelled in the heat that came with the colliding of their lips. Regulus melted with the control James took and the firm strength with which he pulled Regulus closer, lifting him up in his arms to carry him to the bed.
As Regulus was laid down, James slid his body over him and it was a race to remove the layers that covered Regulus’ skin, the desperation to get the fabric off. Regulus wanted his skin to burn with James, he wanted the memory of this etched onto him.
Regulus’ skin splayed out bare on James’ sheets with their bodies pressed together as they kissed, and boy did James know how to kiss. He was soft and gentle but the firmness was apparent, and when he moved lower than his lips, trailing down Regulus’ neck, God, it was euphoric. Hot tingling writhing through him when James’ hands continued to roam and Regulus thinks this wouldn’t be a bad way to die.
He looked down and watched as James kissed across his chest, the bare chest of perfect skin and Regulus wanted James to ruin it . He looked at the skin clear of flaws and wanted James to litter it with whatever marks he pleased. Anything to destroy the poised persona inflicted by his family. He wanted James to leave his skin marked with him, claimed by him, branded. But they made a deal when this had first started, no marks. Regulus hates that deal now.
Though, Regulus thinks he’ll be left with a different mark, one only he knows of as James moves down. Trailing his kisses lower, lower, lower until Regulus could only gasp, writhe and whine.
The party didn’t appear to be dying down any time soon and the noise was becoming startlingly loud for Remus. He had snuck up to the dorm room a while ago to grab some joints and was hoping to find James amidst the chaos of the Commons but he was nowhere to be found. He saw Mary and Emmeline conversing with a drunk Alice who seemed to desperately want to talk with Narcissa. Honestly, Remus was surprised Narcissa even showed up to this party, normally the only ones she went to were those that Slytherin hosted.
He had thought that she would absolutely not be here, considering her snobby fiancé would definitely have something to say about a Gryffindor rager.
But she was here, and Alice really wanted to be with her, regardless of them both having moved on. Narcissa is with Lucius and Alice is happy with Frank. Remus supposes that’s the strength of a first love, wanting to be drawn back together over and over. Not that he would know, it’s not like he’s been in love before.
He saw Marlene and Dorcas starting their fourth round of beer pong against Barty and Evan, and he saw Pandora on the side cheering her sibling on but also trying to cheer for Dorcas too. Remus wonders where Regulus is, if he’s not standing with Pandora and their friends. He knows Regulus doesn’t like parties all too much, maybe he snuck away and retreated to the dungeons.
He saw Lily and Peter gossiping in a back corner, watching the people around them and giggling to each other. He saw his ex-girlfriend making out with some Ravenclaw on the couch, he thought it would have bothered him, he thought it should have, but all he could think was ‘good job Viv’. He saw Snape, the greasy little rat, sulking in the corner staring at Lily. Why was he even here if he despises Gryffindors as much as he says?
James was absolutely nowhere to be seen and a pit rose in Remus’ stomach out of worry that his friend may have done something stupid like try to climb the roof of the astronomy tower… again. In a short moment of panic, he searches the sea of students another time, and his eyes finally find Sirius.
And, oh, he can’t look away. At some point, Mary had left Alice and Emmeline and joined Sirius dancing. Any worrying thoughts of James slipped his mind when he saw Sirius dance in Marlene’s crop top and short skirt. It should be illegal, there is so much skin exposed Remus doesn’t know how to breathe. Sirius’ long and wild curls fell beautifully. They bounced softly as he danced and when he ran a hand through it Remus thought he may actually fall to his knees.
He realized he was staring when Sirius looked his way. He tried to spin and make it to the portrait with little to no interactions as fast as he could, but when he turned, Sirius was coming into his view. How did he do that? How the actual fuck did he do that?
“Are you alright, Moony?”
“Y-yeah, I’m fine, just… it’s getting a little loud in here for me.” It wasn’t a total lie, he just neglected the real reason he was so flustered. “Maybe you could hide in the dorm? I was looking for James earlier but I can’t find him anywhere, if I see him I can send him up to you?”
“No, no it’s— I’m just probably going to get some air, I think,” Remus said, clearing his throat as he started toward the portrait again. “Want me to come?”
“Er… sure,” Remus nodded, nearly dashing towards the portrait with Sirius jogging to catch up with him. Remus listened to Sirius ramble about every little thing he learned and heard from people tonight while they walked to the Clock Tower.
He wasn’t sure why the Clock Tower seemed to be the place he went when things got loud, but he guesses maybe the methodical tick-tocking of the clock had its own ways of soothing, it was predictable, it was dependable.
“Oh man, and you should have seen Preston Oakland’s face when James kicked him off the team! It was priceless, Moony! And it got better when James gave him detention, oh man. Too funny!” Sirius laughed as they perched on the railing and Remus pulled a joint from his pocket, lighting it fast before taking a long drag.
It stayed like that for a while, Sirius talking and Remus listening while he smoked. He’d let Sirius take a hit every now and then, but he knows better than to stop Sirius from talking when he’s really into a story. So he sits and smokes and listens. Until he decides that he needs quiet.
Needing quiet subsequently means needing Sirius to shut up, and if there is one thing Remus knows, it’s how to shut him up.
“I’m going to be honest, Sirius, there is entirely too much talking happening,” he said, ashing his joint and crashing his lips into Sirius’. They kiss for a while, letting their lips move together and breathe each other in, but Remus takes it a step further by pulling back and pushing Sirius to the floor in front of him. They’ve done this enough times he knows Sirius understood what he wanted. He grinned as Sirius quickly reached up for his belt and stared up at him through his lashes.
Remus closed his eyes and leaned his head back, using his hands to balance himself against the railing as he heard the telltale sound of his belt and jeans falling to pool around his ankles. He felt a form of whiplash when cool air brushed against him as his boxers fell next but the coldness was quickly replaced by the hot breath from Sirius’ mouth.
He reached down and grabbed a fist of Sirius’ hair, using it as leverage to push him further. Soft quiet groans left his lips and with how silent the outside world appeared, he’d be shocked if you couldn’t hear him from the faculty tower via echoes.
If this is what it took to shut Sirius up, he’d gladly offer himself up any day. The all too familiar glugglug mixed with the sporadic humming that sent vibrations through him, Remus felt as though he was truly coming undone. Like Sirius was a master at unraveling him, when he’s twisted up in knots of stress, Sirius —or maybe more like Sirius’ mouth, in this scenario— manages to untangle the mess.
“God, you were driving me utterly crazy in that skirt, you know that?”
Sirius pulled away, the warmth of his hand plus the cool metal of his rings sending shocks through Remus. “Yeah? You like the skirt?”
“I like how fucking hot you look in the skirt,” Remus groaned, “so fucking hot in that shit.”
He felt Sirius’ soft and small kitten licks and dropped his head back, tightening the grip he had on his hair. “Maybe Marlene should take me shopping, get a few skirts of my own,” Sirius teased, continuing to lick, lick, lick, “I can try them on, make sure I look good for you.” Remus groaned again, using his grip to push Sirius forward until he heard and felt the muffled humming again.
He holds him close, farther down than when they started. When Sirius moves back and forth, there’s pressure hitting his throat, pressure that brings delicate tears from his eyes. Sirius kept humming and humming, he kept his gaze upwards, staring at Remus. Fuck, since when was he wearing eyeliner? The runny lines of black smeared across his face, he looks ruined. He looks beautiful.
Remus reaches down with his free hand, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the ruined eyeliner, smudging it further. “Fuck,” he mutters, Sirius truly is beautiful. James was right when he said they were attracted to French guys, because Remus is definitely deeply affected by Sirius in this moment. In many moments, truthfully.
The way his morning voice is the perfect level of raspy and his hair is messy as he rolls out of bed. The moments he changes his shirt and Remus catches a glimpse of the tattoo he got two summers ago in a rebellious desire against his mother. How he looks when he ties half his hair up messily and decides that’s the perfect place to store his wand when he doesn’t feel like holding it, nevermind it being the middle of a school day and he’s wearing robes that have pockets specifically for their wands.
Every day, there is a small detail about Sirius that affects Remus, that attracts him, enamours him. And tonight, it’s this. Sirius on his knees, makeup smudged, looking up at him with wide eyes hazed over with bliss. God, Remus is so affected.
He wants to ask him to stay. He wants desperately to ask him not to run away. Please don’t retreat this time, don’t leave. Just stay. Stay here. He wants to listen as he snores —he seems like he has the most adorable little snores— and he wants to experience how beautiful he no doubt looks as he sleeps.
He wants Regulus to stay. Let’s face it, James wants Regulus every day. He wants to breathe him in and drink him up and devour him. He wants to love him openly and loudly and so fiercely that Regulus forgets anyone else exists.
He wants Regulus to stay and he wants to curl his arms around him, just hold him for the night. He wants to hold him and never move, not even when his body aches. James thinks he’d let his body ache forever if Regulus asked. He would do anything if Regulus asked.
They’re just laying there, in the aftermath, catching breath and coming down. James had already left to the bathroom, treating Regulus to proper care as he gently swiped a warm wet cloth across him, he’d filled a cup of water and placed it beside the bed. This is the longest Regulus has lingered, and James would die if he let it go to waste.
He wants to ask Regulus to stay, but is he allowed? Is it right? James thinks in that very moment he doesn’t care if it’s right, but he might. Tomorrow he might. Tomorrow when he wakes in a room he shares with Sirius.
Sirius, who is already angry. Sirius, who already feels hurt by this. Sirius, who he lives with, both at school and home. Sirius, who is his best friend in this entire universe.
But what if Regulus is his best love in that universe?
James is pulled from his thoughts when Regulus sits up slowly. His body remains bare as he sips the water. James watches Regulus pick up his clothes scattered around the bed posts, dressing himself again. He watches Regulus walk to the bathroom, and he watches as he fixes his hair in the mirror.
He has no regrets, how could he ever regret Regulus? But maybe he will regret it if he doesn’t ask. He wants to ask, he wants to beg, he wants to plead. But is that unfair?
“You going back to the party?” He asked instead.
James would swear up and down he felt his heart skip hearing Regulus sigh, the sound so tantalizing he yearns to hear it again. “Actually,” Regulus starts and James perks up, there’s hope, he feels hope. Maybe Regulus wants to stay, maybe for once he’ll linger. Maybe for once he won’t evaporate like air and James can continue breathing. “I think I’m going to head back to my dorm, not a big fan of parties anyway,” he said. The spark of hope James felt had been extinguished.
He nods as he watches Regulus leave, not another word exchanged. He leaves and the burning fire of him in James’ chest dies out. James wants to burn with Regulus, he wants the fire to catch and build. But Regulus is fleeting. Regulus is the wind blowing out the embers, not the wind that spreads the flames.
Maybe next time James will strike the flint better. Maybe next time the flint will spark the kindling stronger. Maybe next time the fire will catch and James can build.
Build the fire.
Build a home.