Velvet Bond

Regulus heard James’ voice before he saw him, and the sound sent a sharp spike of adrenaline and anxiety through him. They didn't leave each other very well and even though Regulus had a plan all along- well- James didn't know that.

“Mum? Dad?" James' voice came out soft, tired, probably he just came back from his cousin's house and suddenly Regulus wanted to disappear, wanted to know if Narcissa was okay, of she was free, safe, healthy.
She was not a good one, as him, but she still deserved the world, because Narcissa had been the only light he had in that house.
"What’s going on?”

Regulus stiffened, every muscle locking in place. The years had done nothing to dull the effect James Potter’s voice had on him, but it wasn’t warmth or nostalgia that tightened his chest now—it was dread. He’d avoided this for years, knowing that this confrontation would dredge up everything they’d buried: the lies, the betrayal, the love that had turned to bitterness.

When James finally stepped through the door, his eyes immediately locked on Regulus. The air in the room thickened, tension rising like an approaching storm. There was no warm greeting, no shared glance of recognition. Just a sharp, cold silence.

“What the hell are you doing here, Regulus?” James spat, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. His eyes blazed with fury and confusion, as though he couldn’t believe that, of all people, Regulus Black had reappeared in his life. James posed himself between his parents and him and Regulus' chest tightened with a mix of guilt, sorrow and pain.

Regulus rose slowly from where he’d been sitting, every movement controlled, cold. His eyes met James’ with a steady, ice-hard gaze. His hand tightened on the edge of the crib where Draco lay sleeping, almost as if the child anchored him.

“I brought Draco here,” Regulus said, his voice measured, but beneath the calm there was something sharp, something threatening. “To keep him safe.”

James’ expression twisted into something half between a sneer and disbelief. He folded his arms across his chest, his entire posture defensive, as if just the sight of Regulus standing in his parents’ house was an offense. “Oh, is that it?” he hissed, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Regulus Black, selfless hero, saving the innocent child. Spare me.”

Regulus’ eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t come here for you,” he replied, his voice dropping into something colder, sharper. “I came because Narcissa asked me to protect Draco. He is what matters. You know- somebody tonight attacked his parents.” Was he being childish? He didn't care.

James took a step forward, his hands flexing at his sides. "Oh yeah right- should I say that I'm sorry? About your death eaters friend? Do you want an apology? Maybe if you bring here your Lord-"

"James-" Euphemia interrupted him. "Draco is a kid and he just needs a safe place until the- attack is over." But James seemed to not even understand what she was saying, too caught up in their world. Because James wasn't against Draco's safety, he was too good for that and Draco was just a child. James was being bitter with him and- well- at the end of the day, they were a bit childish because Regulus was responding at his provocations.

“And why should I believe a word you say?” His voice was sharp, accusatory. “Last time I trusted you, Regulus, you turned your back on everything—on me, on us—just to follow them.”

“That was years ago,” Regulus shot back, his voice still glacial but edged with fire now. “And you don’t know a thing about why I did what I did.”

“Oh, don’t I?” James’ laugh was humorless, bitter. His eyes blazed with old anger. “You were a coward, Regulus. You chose your precious family and their bloody Dark Lord over everything. Over me. And now you expect me to just believe you’ve changed?”

Regulus flinched inwardly at the word “coward,” but his face remained stoic, his gaze locked on James with icy defiance. “I don’t expect anything from you, James. I don’t need your forgiveness. I'm not asking for one. I don't care."

James scoffed, the sound filled with years of unspoken anger. “Good. Because you’re not getting it.”

"You just should wash your mouth before spouting bullshit.” Regulus was never good at backing off. The word "coward" was still loud in his mind and he couldn't let that go, he was- he wasn't- he- he did all of that for them! For Sirius to escape, for James to live, for-

James turned his head slowly, like assessing his words.
"Excuse me, what?"

"I think you heard loud and clear, Potter-" Regulus bit back and James looked away, maybe to contain his anger, maybe hoping Regulus would disappear from his life like he did years ago.
The tension in the room was unbearable, a clash of emotions that neither of them wanted to address. Regulus felt the sting of every word James threw at him, but he had learned long ago how to keep his heart walled off. He wouldn’t let James see how much it hurt, how much their past still lingered in every bitter exchange.

Euphemia, who had been standing by the doorway, stepped forward, breaking the hostile silence. “James,” she said softly but firmly, “Regulus didn’t just bring Draco here, Jamie. She found that-" she stopped, looking at them with worried eyes. "He saved Harry. And you. And Remus."

Remus nodded gently, his voice steady, like he was trying to calm down two rabid dogs without being bitten. “He’s the one who formed the bond with Harry. He protected him when the Death Eaters attacked. And he was also the one that killed Greyback.”

For a moment, James said nothing, his face blank with shock. He turned back to Regulus, his eyes filled with confusion, as if trying to reconcile what his mother had just said with the man standing in front of him. “What? It was you?”

"Sorry to disappoint." Regulus rolled his eyes and James clenched his fist huffing, like he was drained by this, but Regulus was done as much as him. But James said nothing after that and he felt almost the need to- to tell him that it wasn't anything, that he wasn't a hero, that he wasn't the person that James wanted him to be.
“I did what I had to do,” he said quietly, his voice still cold but softer now.

“Did you really do it?” James asked, his voice low, his gaze sharp. “Did you actually save us that night?” The fact that James was so stunned to hear this made Regulus' heart crack a bit, would he have preferred Snape? Barty? Evan? Was he like this- because of him?

Regulus’s expression remained guarded, but he held James’ gaze with an unwavering intensity. “Yes. I did James.”

James crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. “Why? Why would you risk everything for me? For us?”

Regulus didn’t answer right away, and for a moment, James thought he might brush it off entirely. But then he spoke, his voice steady, cool. “It wasn’t about risk,” he replied. “It was… it was something I had to do.”

James’ eyes narrowed, distrust flickering across his face. “Had to do?” he repeated, voice thick with doubt. “Forgive me if I’m having trouble believing that. Last time I checked, you were loyal to him.”

Regulus’ jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists as he sat up straighter. “Believe what you want, Potter. I made my choice that night. I saved you because I wanted to. Not because I was told to, not because of any command. Because I chose to.” He was done, he didn't want to hear about being a little gold soldier anymore. He wasn't- he- he was not a little soldier. Or a little prince.
Stop it.

James scoffed, his expression hardening. “Convenient, isn’t it? Just when you’re in deep, suddenly you want us all to believe you’ve had a change of heart.”

Regulus shot him a cold look, and there was something fierce and bitter in his eyes that James hadn’t seen before. “You don’t have to believe anything, James. But that doesn’t change the truth.”

A sharp silence stretched between them. James shook his head, the disbelief evident on his face. “After everything that happened, after all the lies, you expect me to just trust you?”

Regulus took a slow breath, his expression icy but pained. “I don’t expect anything from you,” he said quietly. “You don’t know what it was like, James. You have no idea what it’s like to be trapped in a world that’s decided everything for you before you can even make a choice.” Regulus retorted, his voice rising now, the ice in his tone cracking with emotion. “You don’t know not an ounce of it. I was trapped- by my family, by everything. I couldn’t get out.”

“And you never tried, did you?” James shot back, stepping closer, his eyes blazing. “You never once thought to stand up and fight for anything other than yourself.”

Regulus’ face tightened, and for a moment, the cold mask slipped. “You think I didn’t want to?” His voice was low, dangerous. “You think it was easy, being in that house, with them? I was a Black, James. I couldn’t just walk away."

James took another step forward, his face inches from Regulus’ now, the air between them electric with years of unresolved anger. “You could have,” James said, his voice low and fierce. “You could have left. You could have chosen something else. But you didn’t. You chose them over me.”

Regulus held James’ gaze, his heart pounding. “I didn’t choose them,” he said quietly, his voice shaking with an intensity that surprised even himself. “I didn’t know how to choose anything else. You don't know anything about what was going on in that house! Things you couldn't even imagine, the- the-" abuse? Regulus never acknowledged it, he couldn't call it like that. He sighed. "It has always been more than that, more than a choice, more than a title. It was a matter of action, we needed to show ourself as the most powerful family in the wizarding world, and after Sirius?” Regulus scoffed, thinking about him. "After him everything went to fucking hell and my fath- my parents couldn't allow another disgrace on the house, even if they needed to show me

“Oh, and I’m supposed to feel sorry for you now?” James snapped. “After what you put us through? After all the lies, the secrecy, you’re suddenly the victim? And that Sirius was wrong? To search for some repair? For a family? For love?”

“I. never. said. that.” Regulus shot back, his voice colder than ice. “I know what I’ve done, I know the things I’ve said, but right now it's not whatmatters. The important thing of all of this is- that night, and the fact that I chose differently. You don’t have to believe it—you don’t have to believe me- but I won’t stand here and let you tell me that it didn’t happen. Or that I am a coward. Because it has been a lot of time since I stopped being one and I'm risking my fucking life every day, so just shut up if you don't believe me and walk away.” He lost that privilege long ago. When he told him he would go home for the Holidays and came back with a dark mark on his arm.

James’ gaze didn’t waver, but a sliver of doubt crept into his eyes. “Then- I can't understand- why now? Why- why did you do it? If it wasn’t some ploy, if it wasn’t loyalty to Voldemort, why did you risk yourself for us? Why not earlier, when Fabian and Gideon got injured?”

Regulus met his gaze, and for the briefest of moments, James saw the guarded mask crack, just a little. “Because I couldn’t stand by and watch him destroy everything,” Regulus murmured, his voice soft but edged with a quiet intensity. “And… because I owed you that. At the very least, I owed you that.” He couldn't wait to go home, really. Tonight too many things happened, too many confessions.
He was so done.

James held his gaze, something like anger and confusion swirling in his eyes, and yet, somewhere beneath it, was a spark of something else- hope?
He took a step back, running a hand through his hair again, his movements jerky, frustrated. “I don’t know what to think,” he muttered. “So- You… you saved us, but you also—”
James let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as the tension began to ebb. He stared at Regulus, still full of anger, but now something softer, more vulnerable, crept into his gaze. The years of betrayal and hurt hadn’t vanished, but there was something underneath it all—something that still remembered the boy they had once been to each other.

“We were just kids,” James muttered, his voice soft, almost bitter. “We didn’t know what the hell we were doing.” And if Regulus saw a hint of remorse in James' eyes he didn't point it out. Maybe even for them, for the great Order didn't go too well.

Regulus gave a small, tight nod. “No. No, we didn’t.”

James stood there for a long moment, staring at Regulus with the weight of years between them. Finally, he sighed, his voice low and filled with exhaustion. “I don’t know if I can forgive you. But- maybe we’ll figure it out.”
Both of them sat on the couch and Regulus was literally drained.

He just wanted- a bed? Sleep?

The anger between them finally settled into a tense silence. Regulus could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his breaths shallow. He glanced down, the weight of everything they’d once shared pressing hard against him, so many things he had wanted to say back then but never could.

James broke the silence. "This time- I’m not keeping you a secret from Sirius.”

Regulus flinched, he didn't expect this from James. He actually didn't care anymore. They were not little kids, hiding themselves like they were at school. James had a family, a child. And if he wanted to tell Sirius that Regulus was helping them it was only right for him. If not James, Lupin probably would. So- it didn't matter. Not anymore.
Just- he didn't want to be part of that conversation. He was out of it. He didn't want to cope with his idiotic brother, he was not ready and not about this. There was too much between them, and Sirius wouldn't believe him.

Regulus held his gaze, feeling the reality of their past pressing down on him. He nodded, his expression hardening as he accepted James’ decision. "Then tell him,” Regulus said, his voice quiet but steady, resigned. “I won’t fight you on it.” He didn’t break eye contact, but he felt a strange relief at James’ words, as if the truth were the only balm left for all the things they’d once shared.

"Maybe one day, we’ll figure it out.” Regulus thought he heard James it but it was too weird and too sudden. Like a sparkle of hope about something that Regulus couldn't give. He was no match for James. And James was with Lily so it didn't matter.
But before he could ask about it Remus made his presence known, by entering the room.

His voice was low, like he was assessing the mood and the atmosphere between them. “Regulus… have you made any progress on what we discussed? The Horcrux?”

Regulus nodded slowly, drawing a breath and looking at James who shared his gaze, curious. “I have. I think I finally understand what ties him to them.” He paused, a rare hint of determination in his voice. “He’s not just Voldemort. His real name is Tom Riddle.”

Remus’ brow furrowed, his eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and dawning understanding. “Riddle?" He hummed, like tasting that name on his tongue, finally having something more than just a nickname. "That changes everything- we can search so much more- you’re sure?” Regulus rolled his eyes.
Obviously he was.

“Positive. I found it after digging through Sloug- let’s just say, through some old records." Remus arched an eyebrow and Regulus huffed. "No need to get the details, Remus. But I know that he was obsessed with shedding that name, with erasing everything that tied him to what he considered weakness,” Regulus explained, voice growing quieter. “If we trace Riddle’s life back, we might find what he did to anchor himself, and where he may have hidden parts of his soul.”

Euphemia, who’d overheard their conversation from the hallway, stepped in. She folded her arms, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Riddle… Tom Riddle.” She considered it for a moment, then glanced up at Regulus, a spark of recognition in her gaze. “There was a Riddle boy who came through Hogwarts after my time… he was linked to the Gaunt family.”

“The Gaunt family?” Regulus looked at her sharply, connecting the name to what he’d heard of dark family lines and ancient blood.

“Yes,” Euphemia said, her voice soft. “He’d be a few years younger than me, maybe around the time your mother, Walburga, attended. They were… unusual, even among pureblood families. Obsessed with their lineage, proud of a direct line from Salazar Slytherin. I remember some strange rumors about them—reclusiveness, whispers of dark magic.”

“So that’s where he drew his beliefs from…” Regulus murmured. “It wasn’t just power he wanted; it was legacy. He wanted immortality through family, through bloodline. And if the Gaunts were that tied to Slytherin, then he would have used their obsession to fuel his own.” And his mother? Walburga had to do something with him too? Was this why she was so obsessed with him? Could he find something into her mind? Or somewhere else?

Euphemia nodded, her face grave. “If he has those- Horcruxes, they’ll be tied to that heritage, to his bloodline and anything that symbolized power to him. His connections to the Gaunts could be a clue.”

Regulus met her gaze, the determination in his eyes steeling. “Then that’s where I’ll start looking. If I can trace him back through his ties to Slytherin and the Gaunts, I might be able to figure out where he’d hide the pieces of himself.”

Remus placed a hand on Regulus’ shoulder, his expression both wary and supportive. “It’s dangerous work, Regulus. You don't even know what you're going to face." But Regulus scoffed again.

"I almost died more in this month than half of my life. Trust me, I know Lupin."
James seemed taken aback by that and Regulus almost grinned at him.
What? Didn't he expect that? That he was willing to go through it?

"But if you’re willing to do this… you have us here, now." James whispered at the end and Regulus really, really, really wanted to stop the bump that his heart did when James spoke. They were done. There was no future for them. He had to think this or he would fall again- and right now- no. Never again. He was done. No more men in his life.
"Regulus, really- I know things are- weird between us. But you don’t have to face it alone. Alright?”

Alright?

Alright?

No. Nothing was alright. Regulus remembered a conversation he had long time ago, with the same person, with the same vibe, with the same eyes.
Regulus wasn't alright then, whit James's eyes looking at him like he did matter something, and he was even less alright now.

Not when Regulus' breath stopped in his throat and his legs almost gave out at his gentle tone, at James' little smile, at his big, hazel eyes.

No. Regulus wasn't alright.

---------------------------------

February 1977,

The night was quiet as Regulus flew alone over the empty Quidditch pitch. The cool air brushed against his face, lifting the weight he always carried with him, at least for a moment. Up here, the pitch lights and shadowy stands became little more than blurs below. The dark sky stretched wide above him, boundless and free, a sharp contrast to the stone walls and restrictions he’d come to know so well. When he flew, it was like he could escape, just for a second. But he knew that reality would ground him soon enough, just as it always did.

After a few turns and dives through the open air, Regulus spotted a figure below, hands shoved in his pockets, watching him from the grass. James Potter. Even from here, he could see James’ telltale smirk as he looked up at him. Regulus wavered, debating whether to ignore him, but he felt compelled to drop down, letting his feet touch the ground a few paces away.

“Couldn’t sleep?” James asked, though his tone was more thoughtful than teasing.

Regulus shrugged, gripping his broom handle tightly, still slightly breathless from the flight. “Flying clears my head,” he said shortly. “Not that it matters.”

James raised an eyebrow. “You mean, not that it matters to them?” he asked, his voice casual, but Regulus caught the edge of understanding there.

Regulus’ mouth tightened. He didn’t like that James could read between his words so easily. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“No? You might be surprised.”

Regulus looked away, his jaw set. A flicker of bitterness crept in. “What’s to understand? Sirius left. Just walked away, as if it were that simple,” he said, his voice low, but laced with resentment. “And now everyone seems to think I should do the same. As if I’m some kind of… coward for staying.”

James tilted his head, his gaze steady. “You’re not a coward. And no one knows what you’re dealing with.”

Regulus scoffed, turning away. “Sirius had it right, you know,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It’s like he left me to stand here alone, while he got to go off and be whatever he wanted. And he’s praised for it.”

James didn’t interrupt, just waited for him to go on. It made Regulus’ voice slip into the open air, admitting more than he’d intended.

“They keep saying I’m the ‘perfect son.’ But what’s that even worth when all it means is being the one who didn’t leave?” Regulus’ voice shook slightly, betraying the hurt he tried to keep buried. “Sometimes I think he took all the courage with him. Left me with nothing.”

James took a step closer, his tone quiet, devoid of the teasing edge he usually wore. “Sirius didn’t take the courage. You have it, too, Reg.”

“Don’t pretend you know me,” Regulus snapped, but his voice lacked venom. He felt drained, tired of the weight that seemed to settle heavier every day. “You wouldn’t get it.”

James nodded, unruffled. “Maybe I don’t know what it’s like, not exactly. But I do know you’re more than just the family name you think you’re stuck with.”

Regulus looked away, fists clenching around his broom handle. “And what am I supposed to do with that?” he muttered. “There’s no place for me outside those walls. Not really.”

“Then maybe you need to look somewhere else,” James said, his voice steady. “Not everyone cares about what they care about. Not everyone thinks it’s about blood, or names.”

A silence stretched between them, thick with the unspoken weight of everything Regulus felt he couldn’t say, things that gnawed at him from within. Part of him wanted to brush James off, to walk away and pretend this conversation hadn’t happened. But standing there on the dark pitch, with the air still lingering in his lungs from his flight, he felt something else—an odd flicker of possibility, the faintest glimmer of something beyond duty and isolation.

He turned to James, meeting his gaze, though his voice was barely a whisper. “Then why does it feel like I don’t have anywhere else to go?”

James’ expression softened, a trace of something almost like compassion in his eyes. “Maybe that’s why you’re here, Regulus.” His words were gentle, unguarded. “Maybe it’s because you do have somewhere to go. Even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.”

Regulus looked down, the weight in his chest settling a little, and a part of him dared to hope that, maybe, just maybe, it could be true.

"And remember this Reg, you don’t have to face it alone. Alright?” James said at then end, kissing him softly on the head and smiling sweetly at him.

No. No he wasn't alright. Torn between duties, family and love, Regulus was absolutely, not fine.

--------------------------

The room was silent, heavy with a chilling stillness, when Voldemort stirred. It was not a waking like any other; his consciousness crept back slowly, clawing its way up from the darkness that had held him for so long. His eyes flickered open, red and gleaming, casting an unearthly glow in the dark chamber. The air was stale, damp, but it carried an energy—something alive, trembling at his return.

As he took his first breath, a shudder ran through the room, as if the stones themselves recoiled from his presence. His fingers flexed, curling into fists that felt the weight of his weakened form, but his mind was sharp, simmering with rage and purpose. He could feel the threads of magic around him, and slowly, with growing strength, he reached out, reasserting his grip over all he had lost.

Voldemort rose, feeling each fractured piece of himself stitch back together. His lips twisted into a thin, merciless smile, his voice a whisper that seemed to echo, filling the tomb with the promise of revenge.

“I am back,” he murmured, the words dripping with a terrible finality.