Sunlight
When Regulus was 9, his brother taught him how to survive. He’d been curled up in bed, covers nearly pulled over his head, still crying from dinner. Sirius had been on the receiving end of a fairly nasty curse and when Regulus had cried out for his mother to stop it, the wand turned on him instead.
Sirius had found him half an hour later, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “Do you want to know something interesting?” He’d asked, and Regulus had sniffled and nodded.
“I used to have a trick that I did when Mother got angry. It helped sometimes. But I can’t tell you.”
Regulus, ever curious, had sat up. “Why not?”
Sirius shrugged. “It’s a secret.”
“I won’t tell, I promise.”
Sirius had blinked at him, then laughed. “You can’t repeat it, ok?”
Regulus nodded, watching his brother with wide eyes. “Ok.”
“I have a little room, in my mind, where I put all my feelings sometimes. When I need to.”
“What?”
“You know when Mother gets mad at us for crying or something like that?”
Regulus nodded, the ache in his body an all-too persistent reminder. “Yeah.”
“Right. So I’d take those emotions, that made me want to cry and stuff, and put them in a little room in my head. Mother couldn’t find them, and she didn’t punish me.”
Regulus had shivered, drawing the blanket over his lap. “Can you show me?”
Sirius grinned at him, then reached out to cover his eyes. “Keep these shut, alright? Then picture a door in your head. Tell me when you’ve got it.” Beneath his hand, Regulus nodded. “What color is the door?” Sirius asked.
Regulus concentrated. “Black.”
“I don’t know what I expected.” Sirius sighed, but continued anyway. “Mine’s red. Ok. Open that door. You’ll find a room, maybe it's white, maybe it's not, but it’ll be empty.
Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, all energy focused on the picture forming in his mind. “Ok.” He whispered, once he could clearly see what Sirius had described.
“That’s your secret room. That's where you can put all your feelings. Then you shut the door, and don’t open it until later.” Sirius pulled his hand off Regulus’s eyes. Regulus blinked at him.
“Should I try it now?”
Sirius shook his head. “No. Save it until you have a really big emotion to put there, something Mother wouldn’t be happy with.”
“You said you used to do it but you don’t anymore. Why not?”
“It- I- I don’t like the way it feels. It’s too numb for me. I can’t stand it. I don’t care what she does to me, but I won’t hide myself just to make her happy.” There’s an angry undercurrent to his tone, and Regulus already felt like he did something wrong.
“Why would you show me, then?”
Sirius stared at him then, and Regulus didn’t understand the look on his face. Maybe he would when he was older, he thought. Like Sirius. “I think you might need it more than I do.” Sirius said softly. “It’s like I said, I don’t care what she does to me. It’s not worth it. But if it keeps you safe…” He’d trailed off, gaze drifting far away.
“I’ll try it, then.” Regulus said, staring at his covers. He’d do anything.
“...Yeah. Only when you need to though, ok?”
“Ok.”
The first time he’d tried it was when his father threw a cup at him, and a piece of glass sliced open his palm when he fell and tried to catch himself. He’d stayed there on all fours, watching the red of his blood slide over the jagged shards. His father’s shouts faded into the distance. He’d shut his eyes and found the door. It took some concentration, but he had nothing better to do. He’d opened it, shoved the pain and the blood and the glass inside. Locked it after.
Then he’d gotten to his feet, nodded at his father, and gone to get a towel from the bathroom.
Over time, he got better at it. He learned that he didn’t need to lock the door, necessarily. He didn’t need to block his emotions from himself, just other people. Just his parents. Once he found a good balance of blank on the outside and feeling on the inside, he was unstoppable.
His mother noticed the gradual change first. Regulus wouldn’t cry out from pain as quickly anymore, or sob when Sirius was punished. Walburga decided that she liked this new Regulus, the one that could take a hit and keep his face level. Sirius did not.
“Why didn’t you do anything?” He’d hissed one night, holding a hand to his bloody cheek. “Why would you just stand there?”
“You told me to!” Regulus threw his hands up. That was his one rule- never shut down in front of Sirius. He didn’t need to. He had nothing to fear.
“What are you talking about?” Sirius had stared at him, a trickle of blood running over the back of his hand.
“Find the door, remember?” Regulus had long ago stopped picturing an imaginary door in his head. It was no longer necessary. “You taught me how to do that. I was just doing what you said.”
“That’s not what I meant, Reg. You’re taking it too far. I meant when you need to hide pain, or- not cry or something. Not to just stand there and watch me get beaten!”
“Would you rather me step in?”
Sirius let out a cry of frustration. “No. No! That’s not my point.”
“Then please, explain it to me.”
He hadn’t been able to, and Regulus retreated to his room.
Sometimes it was harder to keep his face neutral than others. Like when his mother’s crucio turned him into a shaking mess on the carpet, or when the Dark Lord’s parseltongue slipped between his thoughts, or when his father told him they would soon find him a bride. Or when he’d kissed James Potter for the first time in a locked classroom.
Sometimes, though, it came naturally. Instinctively. He couldn’t help it- the way he closed himself off. He’d felt everything drain out of him when Sirius crawled out the window, staring blankly at the space he’d left behind. There was nothing he could do when their eyes met for the last time, Sirius’s absolute desperation matched against a cold stare. Regulus told himself he wasn’t breaking his rule. Sirius wasn’t there, after all. There was need for a rule anymore.
Over the years he’d honed his talent. He started to do it physically too, with the glamour spell his mother showed him. Hiding any bruises that he deemed too incriminating. He built up layers upon layers of protection. Even when he broke, he could normally pull himself back together fairly quickly. It wasn’t so hard to lock everything away.
Except for now.
Because his emotions are everywhere, slipping through his fingers when Regulus tries to grab them. They cover him in sticky shame, clinging to his features and tearing him open. James is staring at him with wide eyes, breath coming in short pants, and Regulus can’t control himself. Can’t control his face.
He didn’t mean to kiss him. He really didn’t. But James had whispered those words, and Regulus couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the way he needed him.
And now, James is standing stock still, frozen to the spot, and Regulus can’t think.
Jesus, Reg, when I look at you…
Think, Regulus.
Say something.
Say something.
Say-
…It’s like I can breathe again.
“I’m sorry,” He gasps, and the words tear at his throat on their way out. He can taste the blood on his tongue. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t- I don’t-”
He turns and goes to the door, knowing it’s locked. When the handle doesn’t budge he rests his head against the cool wood, shutting his eyes. He can hear James’s breaths behind him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, because he’s just ruined the one good thing he had left.
“Regulus.”
Regulus doesn’t move. Doesn’t open his eyes.
“Regulus.”
In his head, it doesn’t take long to find the door. To blow off some dust and crack it open. Find the room behind it. He takes everything- the feel of James’s lips, the look in his eyes, the overwhelming shame- and shoves it all inside before shutting it tightly. He can control his face again, he realizes. He has his mask back. He’s safe.
He turns to James, and doesn’t look him in the eye. “Apologies, Potter, but if you wouldn’t mind helping me find a way out of here, it would be much appreciated.”
He sees the hurt that James can’t conceal flashing across his face at the chill in Regulus’s tone. “Don’t do that.” James whispers, and Regulus has to clench his fist. “Don’t go.”
“I don’t know what you’re-”
“Regulus, please. Don’t do that.”
Regulus can’t say anything, because he wasn’t expecting this.
“Don’t go, love. Please.”
And, oh.
Oh.
Love.
His door splinters, and it takes effort to shove everything back inside. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone.”
James crosses towards him, and Regulus takes a step back. “I don’t understand- I don’t-” James runs a hand through his hair. “Regulus-”
“Some of our families don’t take as kindly to queers as others.”
“You kissed me.”
Regulus has no response to that. James takes another step. Regulus flinches, hard, and James stops. “You kissed me.”
“I’m aware.”
“Can you stop- can you just stay? Can we just talk about this? Reg, please.”
Each word is a knife in his gut. “Ok. We can talk about it. I kissed you in a moment of weakness. You didn’t kiss me back. It was a mistake. We can forget about it.”
“A mistake?”
There’s something in James’s tone that makes Regulus want to die. “Yes.”
“Don’t say that,” James whispers. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“That’s not true. I know that’s not true. A mistake doesn’t feel like that.”
Regulus shudders. “Potter-”
“What happened to James, love? I like that name better.”
“Stop,” Regulus tries, but his voice is starting to shake. Fucking Potter.
“Say it wasn’t a mistake.”
“I can’t.”
“No one kisses like that as a mistake. It felt quite intentional, actually.”
“You didn’t kiss me back.”
It feels wrong, dirty, to acknowledge it. To actually say it out loud. James stares at him, and Regulus curses Dumbledore and his ill-timed lockdowns. What he wouldn’t give to be hiding in the Chamber right now. “I didn’t know,” James murmurs. “I didn’t know what I- I didn’t know I could feel that way.”
“About a boy, you mean.”
James avoids his gaze, but nods. “I didn’t know,” He says again.
“Like I said; a mistake.”
“No.” James shakes his head, firm and decisive. “No. I didn’t know, then. But then you- you kissed me, and I know. I know now, Regulus. Please, don’t go. Let me show you.”
Regulus can’t breathe past the hope that's starting to curl itself around his neck like a snake- or maybe a noose. He crosses his arms. “What about Evans?”
Something in James’s eyes flickers. “I think I’ve been over Lily for a long time. I just don’t think I realized it.”
“And what about me? What if- what if I don’t want you?” It’s a last ditch effort, the final bullet in a loaded gun.
James cocks his head, gaze cool and fixed on Regulus. “You don’t want me?”
Regulus forces himself to inhale. “No.”
“Really.”
“Yes.”
James takes another step, and now he’s right in front of him. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
No. No, no no no no-
James ducks his head, breath ghosting over Regulus’s neck. He shivers involuntarily. James’s hands run up, hovering just slightly over his shoulders. “What about now?”
“...No.” But god, he’s shaking again, and the way James’s lips part as he speaks makes Regulus want to-
“Hm.” James leans down, pressing his lips to the junction between his neck and chest. “Now?”
The door in his head has shattered and splintered, into pieces and shards. Regulus can’t control his small gasp. “N- non.”
One of James’s hands finds the side of Regulus’s face, thumb running over his cheek. Regulus can do nothing but stare at him. “What was that?”
“Je te veux.”
“French” James murmurs, pressing a kiss just below Regulus’s ear. “What does that mean?” Regulus can’t answer, suddenly forgetting all the reasons why this is a bad idea. James pulls back, studying him. “Do whatever you want with me,” he whispers, and it feels like heaven. “But don’t run. Don’t go.”
For the second time in ten minutes, something inside Regulus snaps. It’s not his fault, really. Not when James is looking at him like that. When he kisses him this time, James’s hands find his waist immediately, pulling him in. His lips move against Regulus’s, and a piece inside himself clicks into place.
Something somewhere shifts.
The kiss is quiet, and just theirs. Theirs alone. When James holds him tighter, Regulus has to fight the 11 year old tears of relief that are trying to crawl up his throat. James’s hand finds its way into his hair, and it’s like the sun’s bleeding into him through his veins. Gentle. Golden. He’s never felt so warm.
When he pulls back, they rest their foreheads together, panting. Regulus keeps his eyes closed, and James’s hands don’t leave his waist. “There you are,” he whispers, and Regulus wants to stay here forever. But somewhere out there, there’s a war to be survived.
“James.”
“Sirius is going to kill me.”
“James.” Regulus pushes him back, and it hurts. God, it hurts. “James. We can’t.”
“What? Why?”
Why?
“Because- because what is this? What can this possibly be? You’re forgetting who we are. Who’s sides we’re on.” Each word takes effort to get out, but Regulus knows it’ll hurt more the longer he waits.
“There doesn’t have to be sides.”
Regulus stares at him, heart clenching. “You know that’s not true.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care about this stupid war. I just- I just- Regulus.” He kisses him again, and Regulus makes a small sound against his lips, unable to stop himself from leaning into it. He allows himself 5 seconds before he pulls back.
“What about Sirius?”
“I don’t care.”
“James-”
“Ok. Ok. But there has to be something, right? Because I can’t- I can’t go without this. I can’t-” James’s voice breaks. “It’s not fair.”
Regulus says nothing. If he opens his mouth, he doesn’t know what will come out, and he can’t have that.
“It’s not fair.” James repeats. “Frank and Alice, they get to kiss on the Quidditch pitch after a game, in front of everyone. And Dorthea and Bert, they hold hands in the library, and she goes over to his house every Christmas. If they ever got around to it, even Sirius and Re-” He cuts himself off, and Regulus hates the look on his face. “The second I find someone who wants me- actually wants me- I can’t have them? That’s not- that’s not fair.”
“Fuck.” Regulus hisses, and turns away. He remembers that night on the Quidditch Pitch, the first time James begged him to do the impossible. Regulus knows, already, that this will end the same way. He just can’t seem to say no to him. “If we’re going to do this, no one can know. I mean it.”
James’s face brightens. “I know.”
“We can’t tell anyone, can’t talk to each other in the hall, or look at each other during meals.” He turns to face him. “This is all we get, James. We get the come and go room and locked classrooms, secret meetings where nobody can find us. That’s all we have.”
“It’s not fair.”
“It’s all we get.” He says again, and ignores the beating of his heart. This is such a bad idea. If his mother- if the Dark Lord ever found out-
“That’s not true,” James says, smiling softly, and Regulus snaps back into reality.
“What?”
“That’s not all. We get this. You get me. Every part of me.”
Regulus stares at him, trying and failing to keep his face cool. His insides are on fire. “James-”
Neither of them are expecting it when the door bursts open with bang, a blast of pink magic shooting through. James and Regulus jump apart.
“Prongs! We gotta go.” Pettigrew stands in the doorway, panting. A second later, Sirius catches up to him.
“Come on, mate, Moony’s in an empty closet. We gotta go bust him out.”
And since James refuses to move, Regulus gets over his shock first and steps back. “Potter.”
James’s eyes flick to him then, and Regulus keeps his gaze cool. Hard. “Well?”
“Right. Right.” James takes a few steps and then jogs over to Sirius and Pettigrew. “How’d you guys manage to get past Dumbledore’s magic?”
“Remus found a loophole he showed us before the lockdown, but it has to be done from the outside.”
“Wait so how did you-”
“Oh,” Pettigrew waves his hand vaguely. “I climbed through a vent. Dumbldore forgot to seal those.”
“James,” Sirius starts, watching Regulus. “Why were you in here with him?”
“Oh, I heard him playing music so I stopped in to ask how Pandora was doing. Then the lockdown went into effect… and well, here we are.”
Regulus stares at James, surprised. That lie had rolled off his tongue unbelievably smoothly.
“Wow mate, that’s a rough break. First detention, now this?” Sirius tsks, looking Regulus up and down. “Don’t know how you haven’t offed yourself yet.”
“Oh, you know,” James swallows, glancing back at Regulus. Their eyes meet. “I’m a very optimistic person.”
“Guess you’d fucking have to be,” Sirius sniffs, glaring at Regulus. Regulus takes care to return the look.
Pettigrew mutters something to James that Regulus can’t hear, then the two of them are off down the hall. Sirius sends one last glare over his shoulder, and then follows. Once again, Regulus thinks, Sirius managed to steal James right out from under him. He suspects it won’t be the last time. Regulus waits till they’re gone then counts to ten before he sinks to the ground. He digs his nails into his palms until he can feel the pain. His mind spirals through everything that just happened, trying to make sense of any of it. He stays on his knees on the floor, rocking slightly. Back and forth, back and forth. After a long long time, he comes to a conclusion.
In short, he determines, he’s fucked.