Accismus

Since Regulus was a child, he had quite the habit of developing deep emotional connections to the characters in his storybooks.

Whether it was the odd hatred he seemed to possess for the protagonist's aunt in Randolph Brocklehurst’s novel Away with You, Away with Your Cauldron. (A book written to teach young pureblood kids the importance of cleaning up after themselves) or if it was the unbridled sense of pride that swelled in his heart when Little Chauncey had successfully cast a mending charm to fix his brother's favorite quill in the children's book Little Chauncey, The No-good Squib! By: Millicent Knottingworth.

(Spoiler Alert: Despite the title, Little Chauncey had not been a Squib, he was just rubbish when it came to magic.)

Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia had gifted Regulus Knottingworth’s novel for his ninth birthday, clearly only having read the title and approved of the pureblood family name Knottingworth plastered on the spine, without doing any further research into what they were blindly purchasing for their dearest nephew.

If they had even just skimmed a few pages of the book Narcissa had recommended they get Regulus, they would have realized the story wasn’t created to spew ridiculous rhetoric about how Squibs are lesser than Wizards but was a surprisingly heartfelt story of how Chaucey’s parents had ultimately decided to accept him, not for the magic he could now perform but because he was their son, squib or not.

They also failed to realize that this specific Knottingworth wasn’t a blood supremacist as they had thought - but had been disowned and shunned by her family for having protested in support of Muggle-born rights.

(When Kreacher had found and read the book on Regulus’s bed a few months later he had properly fainted before Regulus swore him to secrecy)

So regardless it didn’t necessarily come as a surprise when he found himself naively falling heels over head for a fictional person from some stories he read at the ripe age of ten and a half.

Well… he wasn't technically a fictitious character considering his brother had met the boy. But there were times when Regulus had desperately wished that perhaps his brother had hit his head on the concrete platform of nine and three-quarters and had gone completely mental, most likely in a ridiculous attempt to rebel against their parents as a defiant last farewell before he would be sent away to live at Hogwarts until Christmas came around.

Since he had received the first letter (better defined as a packet, considering it was ten pages even) from Sirius, Regulus had developed a routine he never thought he’d have the courage to do without his brother by his side.

That night, after the celebrations were over, he had waited in bed for the inevitable sounds of Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus begrudgingly assisting his wine-drunk Mother up the many steps in Grimmauld, past the wall of portraits containing their judging dead ancestors and eventually into the Master bedroom for the night.

Regulus carefully toed out of bed, making an effort to cross his room while avoiding every creaky floorboard, to sneak through his window and climb to the roof of Grimmauld - with Sirius’s packet of letters in hand - to search the sky for his brother's star.

(Unfortunately being forced to briefly pass his gaze over Orion and Bellatrix before finding it)

Regulus would then take a deep breath, cross his fingers on both hands, scrunch up his nose, and pray that his parents would either develop the irrational fear of Regulus’s house sorting being “defective” like Sirius’s had been and place him in the “wrong house” so much so that they’d change their minds about attending Hogwarts and send him overseas to Beauxbatons (even if Regulus feared the pale blue uniforms would wash him out) or that perhaps his brother really had begun hallucinating after his presumed head injury and had entirely made up the “totally cool/super funny/genius kid in my compartment” (as Sirius so helpfully put it) to cope with how utterly alone he was.

Was praying your brother had given himself brain damage and completely dreamed he had found and befriended his platonic soulmate because he was just that lonely, cruel?

Perhaps.

Was it worse than Regulus possibly meeting this very real best friend of Sirius’s and getting the urge to willingly toss his family's beliefs and all plans for his pre-determined future out of the window for the chance to hug him?

No, it was not.

James Potter had quickly become the frequent topic of conversation in his brother's letters as time stretched on and Regulus would typically find the fact he was learning more about Potter than the school that he was going to spend the next seven years of his life at or how his brother was handling himself at school rather irritating if he didn’t look forward to learning every “fun fact” about James his brother was willing to share.

In any other situation, Regulus would’ve been seething with jealousy at the implication that someone had managed to woo his brother into spending all his free time with them… if James hadn’t also effectively wooed Regulus over the weeks of letters as well.

When Christmas break came and Sirius returned, Regulus was desperately trying to mask how utterly giddy he felt during supper when Sirius began his most likely exaggerated rendition of how James Potter had courageously jumped into the Black Lake to retrieve a small stray calico kitten that had fallen in and how he didn’t even protest the unfair detention given to him.

Of course, the story was quickly cut short by Walburga’s shrieking.

“Sirius, you are the heir to The Noble House of Black and we do not lower ourselves to associate with those below us, especially not Potters. I shall not let you bring this family to shame because of your poor choices in acquaintances. Kreacher, fetch me a quill, and a copy of the Hogwarts attendance sheet!” She demanded, snapping her fingers at the old house elf impatiently.

“I suppose you’ll just need some guidance in this area as well, I hope you put this list to good use Sirius, you’ll thank me when you’re older, I assure you.” She muttered, hastily crossing out and circling the names she disproved or desired he speak to.

(She would later make this exact list for Regulus to obey when it came time for his first year at Hogwarts. After Regulus saw the names, James Potter and Sirius Black on the parchment with harsh red scrawl crossing through it he immediately  whispered Incendio and watched as it burned to ash.)

Sirius had only replied with a slight scoff, making a humorous face at Regulus before ineloquently shoving a dollop of mashed potatoes into his mouth with a grin, causing Regulus to stifle a laugh into his palm and earning them both a sharp glare from their parents.

The rest of the dinner was eaten in mostly silence, with the occasional ill-mannered comments Bellatrix would attempt to slide into conversation.

“Uncle Orion you know I admire you and your parenting but wouldn’t you agree that Sirius is incapable of upholding The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black's values? I mean just take this dinner for example, wouldn’t you want your future heir to be - I don’t know someone older, wiser, maybe a Slytherin, someone who actually appreciates your legacy, someone like me, perhaps?”

“Yes, I have thought through the possibility of changing heirs, which is the sole reason Regulus was born, to be the spare in case Sirius fails.” Their Father had replied, the scent of liquor evident in his breath and drooping eyes.

Not long after he had brushed off Bellatrix’s offer Orion and Uncle Cygnus began a not-so-friendly debate about whether an Acromantula or three Quintapeds would win in a duel. Their Mother - in her inebriated state - had reluctantly allowed them to be excused from the table.

When Sirius continued the story later on, when they were both supposed to be asleep in their respective beds and not cuddled under a blanket on the roof together, Regulus couldn’t slow the pattering of his heart at the mention of James.

“Yeah, James is stuck between naming her Venus, Polaris, or Callisto, apparently he wants your opinion on it,”

“He does, are you sure?” Regulus gasped, shooting up from beside his brother, who dared to look offended at Regulus’s disbelieving expression.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Sirius retorted, purposely making his voice higher and whinier in an attempt to mimic Regulus’s voice (which was entirely inaccurate, for the record) “He remembered the story I told him, you know- about the time you had begged Andromeda to buy you a pet cat for Christmas and James had decided to keep her and make you her honorary father or whatever.”

“Oh,” is all Regulus could manage through the fervent pounding of his heart against his ribs and the heat rushing to his face, no doubt painting his cheeks a blotchy pink.

“Uh huh, said ‘when Regulus gets here next year they can meet one another, Godric, I hope she likes him.’ or something like that” Sirius had said dully, waving his hand impassively through the cold air, once again attempting to mimic James’ voice.

Although Regulus should know better than to trust his older brother’s storytelling abilities, the idea of James talking about meeting him in such a disinterested manner made Regulus’s stomach squirm and his heart clench.

It was simply another rude reminder that James was not looking forward to meeting Regulus as he was and if in the future they do happen to meet, James’s only motivation to humor the idea of befriending him would be to appease Sirius in one way or another.

Regulus doesn’t blame him of course, James hasn’t even met him and he doubts James would want to be his friend even after they’ve been introduced.

But he’s also ten and embarrassingly lovestruck so he should be let off the hook for being heartbroken mildly disappointed at the prospect of his first-ever crush not returning his feelings.

Regulus had always struggled with making friends, he mostly preferred to keep to himself anyway. He’d play exploding snap with Sirius and paint with Narcissa and Andromeda but he’s never had friends.

(Unless you count Barty and Evan, who don't count considering one of them is his cousin and they had been obligated to spend time together since they were crawling on the floor in nappies, and the other - is an annoying prick.)

Regulus was also mildly terrified of whether or not the story Sirius was telling was missing a few key details.

Like Regulus who tended to get emotionally attached to fictional characters, Sirius had a nasty habit of his own.

Sirius truly believes everyone should want to be his brother's friend and if they don’t, it’s only because they haven’t gotten to know him yet. This has caused him to tinker with Regulus’s business many times in the past by bribing some Lestrange girl and Parkinson boy to sit with him at his family’s winter gala. Luckily, they had informed Regulus of his brother's meddling before the party had commenced.

But some people wouldn’t openly admit to trying to befriend you under the pretenses that they’d done so of their own volition, James Potter is one of those people.

If Sirius had begged James Potter to put on the charade of wanting to be Regulus’s friend as a way to “boost his confidence” (Which is something Sirius would unfortunately do), then Regulus wouldn’t put it past him to have also stolen the helpless kitten from Potter’s arms that day and demanded James gift it to his “lonely baby brother” as a way to seal the deal.

“Well, tell him I said thank you and that he can name her whatever he wants - it’s his cat anyway.” Regulus sniffed, the deprecating thoughts seeping through the cracks into the front of his mind, making his eyes sting and his breath quicken.

“Sure buddy, I’ll let him know, promise” Sirius had muttered, his eyes blinking shut before the silence between the brothers was broken by his soft snoring.

* * *

Regulus had convinced himself that once he met James the caricature he had made up in his head of the perfect boy would be proven false, the fantasy would be broken, and his feelings would subside. He could then carry out his years at Hogwarts in peace without worry of distractions.

Regulus shortly realized he was a fool ever to doubt James Potter’s ability to surprise people.

James had been even kinder to Regulus on the train that day than he could’ve ever hoped for; constantly trying to involve him in their conversations and asking him about his interests with genuine curiosity. Regulus thought (and still thinks to this very day) that James was breathtaking - no doubt goddess Aphrodite's chef-d'oeuvre.

At twelve James hadn’t been the muscular, popular, quidditch captain he was today. He was scrawny, his wire-framed glasses looked too large for his face, and he had used his father's hair potion in a futile attempt to tame his inky hair; which had ultimately fought off the potion - turning his hair into an even fouler mess. Some would claim he hadn’t quite grown into his nose yet, although Regulus would disagree. The slight curve on the prominent bridge of his nose had always reminded him of the marble statues sculpted of omnipotent gods and courageous warriors he and Sirius adored during their trips to the Louvre while visiting family in France as children. But from the beginning, James had a smile that could warm one to their very core, the warmth lightly tickling over your bones and seeping into your veins. His eyes were pools of hot chocolate with amber flecks of honey swimming throughout, warm, kind, and devastatingly inviting. His voice - albeit squeaky at the time - was soothing - and amazing - and Regulus would empty his family inheritance if it meant he could listen to James ramble about anything and everything.

So even though now at sixteen, when the image of James Potter strutting through the corridors or flying onto the quidditch pitch caused girls - of every year - to watch with flushed cheeks, sweaty hands, and clamoring hearts, Regulus wished James knew that he was the first person to do so, that he had always been looking, even if James wasn’t looking back.