Futile Devices

Oh, oh woe-oh-woah is me,

The first time that you touched me,

Oh, will wonders ever cease?

Blessed be the Mystery of love.

“Mystery Of Love,” - Sufjan Stevens

The next morning, the early sun shone daggers through the linen curtains that hid his little whitewashed sanctuary from the rest of the world. This house – if one could call it that, as it much more resembled a modern Victorian castle estate – was not the official manor of the Noble House of Black, it was simply a second chateau ready to accommodate any member wishing to retreat to the Italian countryside for a few weeks to clear their head, like Regulus.

Although Regulus wasn’t doing much head clearing at the moment, as he woke with a pounding headache thanks to the copious amount of alcohol that he’d consumed last night. He could barely remember how to breathe, let alone remember the events that had unfolded last night at the first bonfire of the summer, the conversations, the promises.

Even with the dozens of maids, cooks, and gardeners constantly maintaining the manor, Regulus new he only had one safe option to call on when he was in such a state as this.

As Mafalda was laying down the tray of tea onto Regulus’s desk, he had to make sure that no word of his nighttime escapade was going to make its way to his parents.

“Mafalda?” he murmured in the direction in which he assumed she was standing (His eyes were still closed as he battled the burning sunlight lazer beams that were illuminating every corner of his bedroom).

“Please don’t let mother or father know.”

He’d be worse than dead if Walburga or Orion ever found out about Regulus spending his nights drunk at parties at the ripe age of sixteen.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Regulus, I think you’ve simply been reading too much, and too late recently, eye strain is such a common cause of headaches and illness. Don’t worry darling, I’ve brewed my special blend to help settle everything, drink up and get ready for the day. I sure won’t be the one explaining to your mother back home that you’ve been bedridden all day because of a teensy little headache.”

And with a small smile of recognition, or smugness, on her face, she walked out of the room with a flourish, leaving Regulus to wallow in his own painful despair, wondering what his mother might say if she could see him now. Walburga would never have brewed him a tea to ease his hangover, or even feign ignorance like Mafalda, no, she’d probably waltz straight into his room and give him a good dressing down about how disappointed she was, in his behaviour, in his selfishness, in his inability to think about the consequences he might cause, how he was damaging not only his own reputation, but the reputation of the entire family and therefore his entire bloodline, yada yada yada. Then she’d probably proceed to dish out threats of disownment or – worse.

Orion and Walburga have never approved of anything their sons have ever done, apart from probably being born male, something his aunt and uncle had failed to achieve. His parents only ever expected the best from Sirius and Regulus, meaning that there was no gaining their gratitude, only their acceptance or disapproval. They barely even approved of Evan and Barty. Although they’d probably never admit to that, not with Barty Crouch Snr being the very mayor of this province, and Evan was just always by Barty’s side, going wherever he goes. Honestly, Regulus wondered how they hadn’t tried to kill each other yet, he certainly would have. It’s like those two boys were attached at the hip from birth, Regulus had no idea how long they’d known each other for, there must have been some point in time when the two were strangers. But that thought seemed absolutely absurd to Regulus, who’d met the boys as his dormmates in his first year of schooling, when they were to be sharing the same sleeping quarters for the next seven years of their educational journey.

Ever since then, they’d been an inseparable trio.

And an epic trio they were, until they’d somehow found themselves expanded to a quartet when Pandora came into the picture. Regulus still wasn’t sure whether they’d adopted her at some point after watching her wandering the halls, common room, and grand library looking so lonely, or whether she’d maybe dated Evan or Barty at some point. Whatever the reason for her inclusion though, Regulus would be forever thankful for it because there was no way in hell that he would’ve been able to put up with the disaster that is both Evan and Barty by himself for so many years.

He was glad that Pandora had managed to make it up to Crema for this year’s summer holidays. They’d found out that her mother had taken ill recently, unrecoverably ill; Regulus made a mental to consol and comfort her the next time their paths crossed – which should be very soon if their plans for the summer had anything to do with it.

As thoughts of Pandora infiltrated Regulus’s foggy morning mind, he recalled the image of her last night at the bonfire, flirting with her smile at a gorgeous dark-skinned, dark-haired girl by the drinks at the bar – The thought of which made him heave even though his stomach had already been emptied earlier in the morning, the taste of which still laced his tongue and made him drowsily vow never to drink another alcoholic beverage ever again.

As he slowly came to his senses, he could hear the birds outside chirping and fighting for their breakfast, or lunch, as Regulus had no idea what time it was. He could smell the musky smoke from the bonfire still lingering on the threads of the shirt he hadn’t changed out of before collapsing onto his bed not eight seconds after stumbling his way back home, still smiling after the conversation he’d had with that beautiful stranger.

Wait.

Regulus was wide awake now as the memory of that sweet talking stranger bloomed back into existence.

James.

James Potter.

That was the boy’s name. Regulus had made him a promise, and Regulus liked to think of himself as a man of his word.

He rose out of his bed to greet the day and immediately regretted that decision as his head felt like it was being run through by a semi-truck. He fought through the pain however and made his way to the desk where a pot of tea sat steaming. Pouring the amber liquid into the fine China teacup, Regulus didn’t stop to admire the design of the cup, with its intricate whorls of gold, as he gulped down the fluid, ignoring the burn that Regulus didn’t fully believe was caused by the temperature.

As a kid Regulus liked to believe that Mafalda was a witch of sorts, with her herbal remedies. Now, Regulus was really considering whether that had been much of a far-fetched accusation as he was hard pressed not to believe that the tea he’d just consumed was anything but magic. Immediately his head cleared and the uneasiness in his stomach ceased.

With the day seeming a little more bearable now, Regulus sat at the plush chair accompanying his desk and faced the window. There was no doubt that Evan and Barty were out of the picture today, they were never much fun with hangovers, and Pandora would probably appreciate some alone time with her lady from last night. So that left Regulus alone for the day. Unless…

Unless he found James.

But that was a stupid idea, Regulus didn’t even have a phone number to call him on and even if he did have a way to contact the mysteriously attractive stranger from last night, he’d look too desperate. The boy was probably still struggling against a hangover as well, Regulus thought as he reached for another cup of magically brewed tea. Hell, maybe he’d forgotten everything, or was lying last night; maybe Regulus would never see him again.

The tragic thought of never seeing James’s perfectly carved face again had him foolishly dressing to head into town to hunt for the stranger, abandoning the chirping birds outside his window as he headed down the stairs, into the foyer, and out the open front door to the shed where he kept his bicicleta.

**

Regulus followed the familiar road that led to town, the countryside passing in flashes of yellow, orange, and blue. It wasn’t that far to town on his bicycle, but with the midday summer sun beating down on him, he felt himself sweating as he swerved through the ancient narrow streets and alleyways on his way to the town square.

Regulus could never help noticing the essence of beauty that laced everything in Crema. It was a stunning town, a beautiful region – no doubt one of the reasons why his parents had invested in the vineyards and orchards now adjacent to their summer manor. The historic yellowed brick, white washed arches, and stone floor of the city made it feel like you were walking through time, to an era where art was life, stories of Greek heroes were passed through the streets, epic tragedies were idolized and performed in classical amphitheatres for the masses, where great sculptures were designed with infinite detail and still whole and beautiful, not yet cracked and broken by time.

Walking through the town overgrown with bougainvillea's climbing the walls, Regulus could imagine himself apart of one of those tragedies, a Greek hero returning to his hometown, to find no trace of his lover anywhere.

Reaching the town square – defined by the presence of the Duomo di Crema, a charming cathedral that stands watch over the centre of town – Regulus wheels his bike to the stand in front of his favourite shop, libreria di Crema, an old bookshop he frequents.

Walking through the door, the familiar ding of a bell rings from above him as he squints into the dim space, blinking out the bright spots in his eyes from the sun outside.

“Ciao, Alessandro,” Regulus greeted to the owner standing behind the counter.

“Ciao Signore black,” replied the bookkeeper, but Regulus didn’t hear as he spotted – and proceeded to head towards – someone standing at the back of the store, examining the shelves that extended from floor to ceiling.

Someone with glasses, and fluffy chocolate curls to match his honey brown skin.

“What are you doing here?” Regulus questioned, glad that his voice came out steady.

James Potter turned to look at the boy who had just spoken and was faced with a head of silky black curls, sharp cheekbones, and piercingly translucent grey eyes.

The boy from last night.

Who had found him today and was now asking a very pointed question.

“Uh, trying to find a book? To read over the summer.” Was his cool response.

Regulus felt a pang of jealousy at how James seemed to not be suffering at all after last night, he himself still had traces of a headache. He fought for something to say as James fixed his fiery gaze upon him and Regulus noticed the rock still hanging on his neck from last night, a deep ruby red. Fire and ice collided as they gazed at each other and Regulus noticed with no small amount of satisfaction, that James’s eyes were brown – the same as his hair – a nice, earthy, grounding sort of brown. The colour of which was so warm and inviting that Regulus could think of nothing more comforting than to be staring into those eyes for eternity, holding that silk soft hair forever.

“Oh – right, of course… I mean, this is a bookstore. I came here for a book as well.” Was Regulus’s well thought out answer.

“You read a lot then?” James questioned.

“Yeah, you could say that. I can introduce you to some of my favourites if you want?”

“Yes please, give me your oh-so-professional advice and I shall claim the one I will read as my Victor.” James stated in a rather dramatic manner, flourishing his hands to let Regulus show the way.

“Well, in that case we should start with my favourite. Over here.” He beckoned James over to a small corner of the store and extracted a worn book from the tightly packed shelf.

“Little Women?” Asked James incredulously.

“Yes, Louisa May Alcott, it’s a classic,” explained Regulus, in a rush to not lose the boys attention too quickly. “It might sound a bit tedious, but it has to be my favourite.”

“What’s it about then? Why do you like it so much?”

“I like it because, well, it might sound stupid, but I think I really resonated with the story, the struggles of the characters, conflicted between their familial duty and their own personal growth, their own future desires. I admired the courage each girl had to pursue their own dreams, not held back by others’ expectations. I really appreciated that, I found it encouraging and inspiring. So that book would have to be my number one. Another book I enjoyed would be over here.” But as Regulus attempted to pull James to the other side of the store, the boy stayed firm where he was.

“No, that’s alright. I’ll just get this one, you’ve done it, you’ve sold me. They should hire you Regulus.”

At the mention of Regulus’s name on the sweet, curved mouth of James Potter, he almost passed out, but instead managed to get out the words.

“What do you mean? There’s plenty more you might find more enjoyable, that was just a rant I had to go on about my favourite book. It might not be your style, what about ‘1984’? That seems like your kind of book, George Orwell is just over here.”

Regulus was trying to drag James away now, he couldn’t have him read that book now, not after he’d compared so many of his personal experiences to it, it would just be embarrassing.

“I’ll read this one, if anything just to find out what made you smile with so much sincerity when talking about it.”

And with that, James took the book right out of Regulus’s hands and strutted over to the counter in that sassy, dramatic way of his.

Outside the store, their eyes fought against the sun’s assault after being within the dimly lit indoors for so long.

“So,” James broke the tense silence they’d been in since their last conversation, the result of which was now clutched in James’s arm as he shielded his eyes with a strong hand.

“Care to take me up on that promise from last night? I have a few spare hours to kill.”

So he did remember everything from the party.

“Sure,” answered Regulus, more than happy to spend the rest of the afternoon, the rest of his life, with James Potter.

No.

He thought firmly. He was getting ahead of himself. Regulus barely even knew the guy, besides, there was certainly no evidence that the feelings might be mutual, and Regulus would rather die than have to confess anything to find out.

So with that, Regulus began walking, James following closely behind, his eyes wide as he marvelled at the delicate and intricately designed structures around him.

“Just over there is la fontana dei desideria, lots of tourists made it a tradition to throw a coin into the water basin and make a wish, apparently doing so generates good luck and the promise that your wish will come true.” Regulus pointed to the regal water fountain ahead of them with carved cherub statues, smoothed and dulled by time, standing guard atop the tall fountain, out of reach.

“A wishing well? Come on, we have to make a wish! I’m sure I have some loose change somewhere in here,” said James, reaching deep into his pockets and scrounging up 2 silver heptagonally shaped coins, a picture of a middle-aged woman on one side.

“2 coins. They’re only 20 pence, not even Italian coins, but they should do,” James passed one to Regulus, who examined the strange currency with awe. He recognised the numbers on the back, dating the coin to 1979.

“My coins dated to 1981, what’s yours?” asked James.

“1979,” Regulus replied.

“Cool, they’re not that new, I guess I can spare them, especially in return for a wish.”

“What will you wish for?” asked Regulus, genuinely curious.

“DID YOU JUST ASK WHAT I’ll WISH FOR?” exclaimed James, “Everyone knows that if you share a wish, it won’t come true,”

“Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever done this before,” explained Regulus.

“that’s okay. Here, we’ll make a wish together ready? Three. Two. One.”

Standing by the water fountain, Regulus closed his eyes, thinking about what he would wish for as he listened to James count down from three. In silence they both tossed their silver coins into the water, watching them glint as they caught the sun and splashed into the cool depths of the basin, where they would stay forever, together.

“Was it a good wish?” Asked James, turning to face Regulus, content to continue with their day, their tour.

“Yeah, it was,” replied Regulus turning to walk away from the piercing eyes of the cherub statues, already regretting what he’d asked the fountain.

“Good, because so was mine,” replied James, following Regulus as he pointed to the building now in front of them.

“That in front of us now is the Duomo di Crema, it dates back to the 11th century,” said Regulus, the ever-dedicated tour guide.

“Duomo as in Cathedral? My mother’s been trying to get me to learn Italian, neither of us are much good at the moment.”

“Oh, yeah. Duomo as in Cathedral. It’s quite a popular tourist destination, with its Gothic-Lombardic style architecture, mixed with the late Cistercian style. It’s a monument that took centuries to finish, they just kept adding different components. Like that Bell tower there, that was the last piece, finished in the 14th century.” Regulus had no idea where this knowledge was sprouting from, some old information he probably learned whilst on a tour through the place a couple of years back.

“Wow, you really know your stuff Mr. Tour guide. What about over there, what’s that building?” asked James, pointing to their left at one of the colourfully plastered buildings opposite the cathedral.

“That, my friend, is the best bakery in the world.”

“The world huh? I guess we’d better check it out then.”

With both of their stomach grumbling, they hastily made their way to the building in question which leaked the delicious smells of baked goods throughout the piazza.

“Mmmh, this place smells delicious. Is that – the smell of… ORANGE MUFFINS?” exclaimed an ecstatic James Potter who was now bounding towards the bakery with an amplified spring in his step.

“They must have been freshly baked; we can get a couple for lunch if you want. Here, I’ll grab the table James, and you can go in and buy some lunch for us.”

Regulus didn’t feel like mentioning that this would technically be breakfast as he hadn’t eaten anything all day. Grabbing the little white table on the corner, he sat down on the matching iron chairs as James skipped into the shop, no doubt to buy a ridiculous amount of those orange muffins.

Sure enough, minutes later he emerged with two plates of the muffins and a stupendous smile on his pretty face.

“Here we go, one for me and one for you,” said James as he placed the still steaming muffins on the table, “Lunch is served.”

“Looks delicious, I never usually go for their muffins,” admitted Regulus.

“Well, try this one, it will change your mind,” said James as he bit into his.

Regulus delicately sliced up a portion of his orange muffin and took a bite. God James was right; it did taste delicious. The flavours melted on his tongue as the cakey mixture dissolved in his mouth. James began to start another conversation.

“So, what does one do around here?”

“Nothing. Wait for the summer to end.”

“What do you do in the winter, then? Don’t tell me: wait for the summer, right?”

“We only come here for the summer, and some other vacation…”

“That would explain why you’re a lot more pale than the people round here, just came from the north huh?”

Regulus blushed at the comment.

“We are English, American, Italian, French… somewhat atypical. I attend a boarding school up in Scotland, we just broke up for the summer, so now I’m here,” explained Regulus.

“I also attend a boarding school in England, I know what it's like, all those posh London aristocrats.” Regulus didn’t feel the need to mention that he too would probably be what James considered a ‘posh aristocrat,’ if he knew.

“And what else do you do in the summer, besides this?” continued James, that cheeky grin back on his face.

Regulus just shrugged, “transcribe music. Read books. Swim at the river. Go out at night.”

Already finished their muffins, James cut the conversation off, checking the time on his watch and suddenly standing up to make his way to the bike stands.

“Damn it, mum’s going to wonder where I am. Sorry Regulus, but I really have to run, I lost track of time. See you later, eh?”

Regulus also stood to follow James to the bike stands, where his bicycle was also waiting.

“Yeah, um – my friends and I will be at the volleyball courts tomorrow afternoon if you want to join, after lunch, past the country club. You’ll find it.” Regulus didn’t know why he did it, why he invited James, but he did, and he wasn’t at all mad when James’s didn’t decline.

“Sure Reg, see you there,” and with a second thought to the object still in his arms he added, “I’ll be sure to read this and let you know what I think. Later!”

Then he was off, steering himself down the narrow streets of Crema to wherever he was staying; leaving Regulus standing alone by his bicycle, longingly staring at the place James had disappeared into.

**

The ride back to the house was pleasant, the countryside shining under the soft afternoon sunlight of the Po Valley.

Parking his bicycle back into the shed on the side of the house, right by the expansive garden leading all the way down to the little makeshift dipping pool – Regulus entered the house still slightly sweaty from the ride back, just as he hit the stairs however, he paused at the familiar voice behind him.

“Hello little cousin. Didn’t want to say hello? I came all the way from France to be greeted like this?”

“Narcissa,” Regulus gasped, surprised at his favourite cousin’s early arrival, “when did you get here?”

“Oh, about an hour ago. I just unpacked my things. Where have you been that has you smiling so stupendously?” she asked, concern lacing her features.

“Just into town, the countryside’s beautiful in the afternoon light,” he explained, trying to throw off Narcissa’s questioning glance. He knew he was successful when she broke into a smile and embraced Regulus in one of her signature tight hugs.

“Oh, I missed this place so much, I missed you,” she mumbled into Regulus’s shoulder.

“I missed you too Cissy. Where’s Bellatrix?” Regulus asked, usually the three girls always travelled here for the summer, but since Andromeda’s departure it’s just been the two. Of which he favoured one way more than the other.

“Bella’s off with her boyfriend Rodolphus” she gagged as the name came out of her mouth, a disgusted look on her face as she continued, “They’re travelling the Caribbean now that they’ve just finished school. Thank God, I don’t know what I’d do if they’d decided to come here instead. Oh, I’m so glad it’s just us two in this house, this will be the most relaxing summer yet,” her face perked up with excitement.

“Yeah, Orion and Walburga are still in France, sorting out some discreet business, they won’t make it this summer, but they send their well wishes,” Regulus informed, also excited about a quiet summer whith Narcissa, his friends, and James.

“Well, I best be off, I have some business in town before dinner. See you Reg,” she called out as she made for the door, and within a matter of minutes, was gone.

Finally free from the constraints of his social life he headed into his room, with that stupendous smile still plastered onto his face.

Sitting alone at the desk his in his room, the sole piece of furniture in the space apart from his bed, the crammed bookshelf behind the door, and an ancient wooden wardrobe in the corner by the bathroom that lay adjacent to the spare bedroom opposite his. The chair he perched on faced the window, where he watched the birds play in the peach tree whilst he reflected on the events of the day. Regulus felt foolish thinking about how James made him feel, how James made butterflies fly around in his stomach, made his knees weak and his speech muddled. Regulus felt stupid.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

There was no way that his feelings were mutual, and Regulus had no desire to ruin their quick friendship trying to find out. So he came to a conclusion, ignoring the wish he’d made at the well, he made a pact with himself to push any longing for James so deep that they’d never emerge; not unless James made a move first.