James Potter
Regulus could feel a presence behind him - lurking in the shadows. Growing up as he did, this was a normal occurrence, but now that he was a government spy, this was a whole other story. Deciding obviously not to lead them directly to Phoenix HQ, he took a wrong turn to stroll into an alleyway. The atmosphere was gloomy, and the litter only blended in with the mixture of graffiti and smog.
Coming down to the end of the alleyway, he came to an abrupt halt, before turning around slowly, his blade drawn between his bony fingertips already. He had already prepared for this, but nonetheless his mind was racing with the infinite possibilities which this situation had ever so carelessly planted into his mind. As he turned to face the other direction, Regulus found himself face to face with someone awfully unfamiliar to him.
Inches away from him, a boy - who looked to be around Sirius' age - was grinning widely at him. The way he beamed down made Regulus feel tiny, minuscule. The boy had chestnut curls, honeydew skin, gold-framed glasses and the most intimidating yet relaxing aura around him. Although Regulus felt under no threat from this boy, his heart was still pounding out of his chest with every heavy breath he took.
Regulus could feel the boy's warm breath on his face, it smelt of strawberry toothpaste. Regulus already didn't suspect a boy who was wearing a grandpa sweater and baggy jeans to be a psychopath, but this scent only just confirmed his suspicions. "And you are?" Regulus cocked an eyebrow at him, before frustratedly running his hand through a mountain of black curls.
The boy merely smiled wider, giving Regulus a cheeky wink before clearing his throat. "James Potter, thanks," The boy - Potter - began pacing side to side rather cheerfully, his eyes staring Regulus up and down, upon spotting the blade in his hand, he accidentally let a chuckle escape his pink lips. Potter pursed his lips together to try to refrain himself from laughing, whilst Regulus gave him an unimpressed glare. "You don't scare me, you know." Potter remarked slyly.
"Then why are you breathing so hard?" Regulus replied slicker than Potter could, before squaring up to Potter, who was now biting his lip as he stared at Regulus.
"Because you're kind of cute." Potter winked, and Regulus scrunched his face up in disgust. Regulus attempted to side step him, tried to exit the situation by simply walking away, but Potter stuck his arm in front of Regulus to stop him from walking any further.
"Gosh, what do you want from me?" Regulus groaned, praying to the heavens that Potter would just drop it and leave him alone. Potter annoyingly began skipping around the alleyway, which was really a contrast to the ambiance. Potter was in this narrow, secluded alleyway with a stranger whom had a knife and was in all black, but was still pestering him - as if he was the one with the advantage.
"I want to join the order." Potter demanded, staring at Regulus dead in the eye. Regulus tried to keep a deadpan expression on, as he always did, but this was just too freaky. His breath quickened and his eyes narrowed, as he looked up to this 'James Potter', if that was even his real name.
"How do you know about the order?" Regulus grimaced at the voice crack which had occurred when he had said 'you'. Hopefully this wasn't the reason why Potter was now chuckling in his face, minuscule particles of spit escaping his mouth. Gross. These thoughts didn't last for very long, as Regulus noticed the real reason to why Potter seemed so smug.
It took a second for his mind to actually register it at first, after all, the atmosphere was awfully dark - nearly pitch black. Potter was stood there, throwing the blade which was in Regulus' hand a mere second ago side to side. Regulus scoffed as he clenched his fist in rage, careful not to show how vulnerable he felt right now. Potter had somehow taken that from his tight, watchful grip. Regulus felt unsafe, suffocated, even.
"I know a lot more than you may think, Regulus Black." Potter continued to do tricks with the stolen blade, and as much as Regulus tried not to be impressed, it was hard. It was as if he knew that Regulus would try to get him into a deserted area, as if he knew that Regulus would resort to drawing out a weapon, and as if he knew him.
"So what, are you gonna kill me?" Regulus asked plainly, his voice monotone and unbothered. This wasn't the first time that he stared death in the eye and simply didn't care, after all, he would've never made it into the order if he hadn't. Potter looked doleful, perhaps even offended by this accusation. Potter slammed the palm of his hand against his own chest, and gasped in a fake shock.
"I thought we were just getting along, love?" Potter replied, a hint of humour yet a tinge of malice in his voice. "After all, it's not like I have any reason to kill you. I would've done so already, wouldn't I?" Regulus remained silent, yet continued to shoot daggers at Potter with his eyes; he yawned. "You're getting kind of boring, can you answer me this question or not?" Potter asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.
This confused Regulus thoroughly. Perhaps this was some sort of manipulation technique, but if it was, it definitely worked. His interest piqued, Regulus decided to end his non verbal strike. "Ask and we'll see." He said, plainly.
"Awfully feisty are we," Potter teased, trailing the blade from the bottom of his own palm and up to the end of his fingertips, prickling them slightly so they would bleed the tiniest bit, before sucking on it. Regulus wouldn't be surprised if he were a vampire. "Are you a newly appointed order spy or not?" Potter asked, his voice dour and his gaze fixed.
"What's an order? Sorry mister, but I don't understand," Regulus tried to play it off with the innocent-fifteen-year-old act. Potter looked unfazed as he moved the blade away from his own finger and onto the side of Regulus' cheek. It wasn't dug into him, no, it was laid sideways so that Regulus could feel the cold metal against his sensitive skin. James Potter was a psycho, there was no doubt, but in the most fucked up way ever - Regulus had the urge to grab him by the collar and snog that glare off of him.
"Don't fuck around, I'm not an enemy, Regulus." Any hint of playfulness or flirting was now gone, and Potter was looking down at Regulus with a mix of longing and desperation in his eyes. Regulus raised his eyebrows to symbolise for Potter to continue explaining, and so Potter withdrew the blade and brought it down to his own side, tucking it up his sleeve as he leaned against the brick wall of the alleyway.
Regulus weighed out his options, he could either stand in the coldness of autumn and wait for Potter to explain himself, or he could make a run for it. Weirdly enough, Regulus picked the first option. Not because he was interested, but simply because he knows deep down that he wouldn't get away. In the few minutes that he'd known James Potter, he was aware of just how crafty this individual was.
"My best friend, Remus Lupin, he was taken hostage by that big-shot gang that everybody's been talking about." Death eaters, Regulus thought, but he didn't dare say it aloud, in case he was wrong. "The death eaters." Potter confirmed, as if reading into Regulus' mind and stealing his thoughts to let them roll off of Potters' own tongue and pass as his own. "When I asked everybody I knew, I begged and I pleaded, the only solid answer I got was to find the Order of the Phoenix." Potter said, darkly.
"How did you know about me?" Regulus asked, his voice equally as shaky as his hands. Potter offered him a kind smile, although it didn't come from his heart, no. This grin was coming simply from the will, the will to comfort Regulus. Potter could easily be lying, of course, but Regulus had nothing to lose at this point.
"Ever heard of Albus Dumbledore?" Potter asked, his voice raspy and his hands now in his pockets as he leant onto the wall with his whole body weight. He closed his eyes, probably aware that Regulus could make a run for it if he wished, but decided not to. Regulus didn't pry, he merely tapped his shoe against the concrete in a rhythmic pattern so that Potter could see that he wasn't going to ask.
"Well, Dumbledore is an old family friend, after I left my family to go to college, he reached out to me, and your name was mentioned." Potter began rambling on, and it's fair to say that Regulus' interest was piqued. "Now, I'm not supposed to share this with you, but I feel it's only fair, don't you agree?" Regulus didn't dignify that with a response. He merely continued looking at Potter, who was staring at him through furrowed brows.
"Apparently," After this James took a step forward, and pressed his index finger into Regulus' chest. Hard. "You're going to die sometime next month, at least that's his plan. Something about a sacrifice for the greater good? What a nutter, am I right?" Regulus' world stopped. His heart shattered in his chest, and his breath quickened.
Of course he had thought it was suspicious that he was invited to join the order so easily, but this was a whole other level of betrayal. "What?" Regulus managed to choke out, and upon seeing the concern etched across his face, Potters' gaze softened ever so slightly. "Don't feel pity on me, Potter." Regulus spat, trying to mask his yearning and heartache with sarcasm.
Potter raised his hands in surrender and (very insensitively) chuckled. "So, I was wondering if I could take your place in the order once you're," Potter then stuck his tongue out, tilted his head to the right slightly and acted as if he were dead by making grotesque and uncomfortable noises.
"You can't." Regulus replied, simply. He didn't feel the need to elaborate, but clearly Potter had other ideas.
"And why is that, dead boy?" Potter said with a cheeky grin, as if he were about to burst out laughing. Regulus stared him up and down, he really didn't seem very threatening, much less order material. He was wearing red converse with smiley faces drawn on in black pen, paired with baggy, worn out jeans which had mud stains on the bottom from running in puddles. Potter had a brown, knitted grandpa sweater on. His glasses were very lopsided on his face, he looked utterly ridiculous.
"Because, I'm not dying - at least, not for a good seventy years or so." Regulus confidently began strolling around the alleyway, at least as far as he could go without going past Potter.
"You're fate's already been decided by Dumbledore himself, though." Potter looked puzzled, his lips were slightly parted and his arms were folded on top of each other.
"Fate isn't set in stone," Regulus replied, coming to an abrupt stop. He turned to face James, who had an amused expression on his face. "So stop trying to steal a life that isn't over yet.”