He couldn't find it anywhere. He had searched every inch of his bedroom, and he still couldn’t find that bloody, ridiculous, embarrassing letter. He looked everywhere – the box under his bed, all the drawers, his closet, the little hidden hole he had made on the floor years ago to hide things exactly like that damn letter. The last time he had seen it, yesterday, it was on his desk. Why was he reading it? Unimportant. But he was. He had taken it out of its hidden place due to an unprecedented urge to dwell on matters of the heart – yes, heart, because Regulus was, against all his efforts, better judgment, unwillingly, and irreversibly in love with James Potter.
There has to be a logical explanation for this. He was, after all, extremely organized, and has never lost anything ever. Call him a control freak, but at least he knew where everything was, at all times, by only searching in its designated place. Well, until now.
He tried to remember what he did once he was done reading it. Let´s do a recap, he thought. I took it out of the hole, I sat on my desk, I read it, I wanted to kill myself, I pushed it aside, called Kreacher and asked for some coffee even though it was eight p.m., I sat down on my desk again, read it again, wanted to kill myself again, put the letter back on the envelope, remembered I hadn’t written to Barty this week yet, took out a parchment, wrote the letter to Barty, called Kreacher again to bring me some fruits, ate the fruits while reading my book, finished the chapter and the fruits, called my owl, and sent the letter to Barty. That was it. Wait. No, no, no, no, no. Bloody hell. It can't be.
He ran to his desk, and searched through it more desperately than he's ever been in his life. And, hidden between pages of the book he was currently reading, there it was. There it fucking was. A letter addressed to Barty .
How did that even happen ? How did he mix the letters up?
By now, James Potter, annoyingly brilliant Quidditch star, his brother’s best friend, the doom to his life and sanity, must have already read the lengthy, embarrassingly vulnerable, love declaration Regulus wrote a few months ago.
He never meant for him to read it. Or anyone, for the matter. It was just how he was. He writes things. Everything that’s ever happened to him has met the pages of his journal. Every thought, every fight with his brother, every curse his mom threw at him, every experience at Hogwarts, everything. Anything. He doesn’t really know why he decided to write about James in a separate parchment. Because it felt realer , perhaps? Like, if he’d write it in a way that seemed as though the recipient of the letter would read it, then he’d be even more honest and true. It sounds dumb, now. But he’s never written anything quite like it since.
What is he going to do, now?
There’s no backing out of this. It’s not like he can say it wasn’t from him. It was his writing, it had his signature. It contained things only he and James knew about. What must James be thinking right now? Regulus is such a crazy, delusional, insane person.You’re nice to someone and then he goes and falls in love with you? What a pathetic bloody loser.
James would never think that, though, if he’s being logical. James is not even capable of putting those words together and directing it to someone with the means to hurt them. He’d never. And that’s so infuriating , because Regulus wished James could be like that at least once, just so James could prove him wrong, destroy the image of this perfect, nice, and kind little boy, and put an end to Regulus’ misery.
But he never did. Not once was James mean to him. Not even when Regulus would say awful things. Do awful things. He stayed the same. The same cheeky grin, the same creases by his eyes when he’d smile with all his teeth showing, the same loud laugh you could hear from across The Great Hall, the same greetings of Morning, Reg, which was met with Piss off, Potter .
He regrets it now. He’s not rude to James anymore. He was in the past because he just hated the fact that he couldn’t, for the life of him, hate James. Even after stealing his brother. He wanted to hate him so badly, but he just couldn’t . So he’d be mean to him, yes. That way he could pretend to hate him. Very efficient, right?
Anyway. These days, he doesn’t even address James Potter. He prefers to do that than to be mean to him, which is still kind of mean, but that’s the best he can do.
He then remembers the letter James has now probably already read and sinks to the floor, the last remaining bits of self respect vanishing into thin air.
His life is over. He was just starting to reconnect with Sirius. They spent last term seeing each other everyday, talking and discussing and laughing and crying. They’re brothers again. And that’s all going to waste when Sirius finds out about his ridiculous crush on his best friend.
He put his hands on his face, hiding the tears from no one. Merlin, how stupid. How stupid he was for mixing up those damn letters.
May the day in which James kissed him be damned, because he doesn’t think he’d have realized his feelings towards the boy were more than platonic, friendly, and innocent otherwise. He probably would’ve stayed in denial.
It happened at a Gryffindor party, back in Fourth Year. Sirius had insisted for him to come, even said he could bring his Slytherin friends. As the night went on, of course someone suggested spin the bottle. It’s a bunch of horny teenagers all squeezed together in a room, with alcohol in their system, and hormones messing up their judgements. Typical.
He didn’t want to participate in it, though. For one, it’s quite embarrassing. At least he thought so at the time. And also, he had never kissed anyone yet, and he didn’t want his first kiss to be with a random horny Gryffindor he didn’t even know the name of. Call him conventional, but he really wanted his first kiss to be at least sort of special, as far as kisses go. Meaningful, perhaps.
So he excused himself from the circle. “Come back, Baby Black!”, one of Sirius’ friends called. The blonde one, if he’s remembering right. He didn’t even look back. He left through the window and just stood in the little balcony in solitude, the muffled sounds from inside giving him a sense of calmness at last.
Not even two minutes later, in came what later on would become the bane of his existence, with a smile so big Regulus thought he might be blinded by it.
“Not enjoying the party, Reggie?” James asked, pinching his arm lightly like they used to do when they were little in order to annoy each other.
He rolled his eyes at the childish nickname, “It’s just…” He started, crafting his words, “I just needed the quiet.”
James mimicked Regulus’ posture, arms leaning by the reiling, head up to the sky. He does this. Unconsciously, Regulus thinks. James always stands the same way the person he’s talking to stands, as though to get to their state of mind or to accompany them in their sorrow or joy. An endless demonstration of unselfish empathy and rapport.
“You just didn’t wanna kiss any Gryffindors.” James joked, smiling at him. “I’m guessing your type is brains over brawns, yeah?” He continued, “Maybe a nice and smart Ravenclaw who can talk to you about your books and studies. And then you two snog at the library after study sessions. I bet all the Fourth Year Ravenclaws are obsessed with you. Tell me: which one has your heart, Regulus?”
“You think you know everything, don’t you, James?” Regulus turned to him, holding back a smile.
James did the same, “I know quite a lot, if I do say so myself.” The playfulness in his eyes betrays his attempt to appear serious.
Regulus remembers thinking he had never seen James look so beautiful. His cheeks were flushed due to the drinks, his hair was even wilder because of the dancing, and his eyes…his eyes shined . He could see the moon in them, the little freckles of stars, dancing around as he moved.
“You’re too conceited for your own good.” He replied, which only encouraged James even more. “And you’re wrong.”
“About?”
Regulus turned back to face the view of the grounds, “No one’s obsessed with me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Regulus scoffed, “And why’s that?”
“Well, because, I mean,” James stumbled a bit, “You’re… you.”
He looked at the boy again, “I’m… me ?” He repeated, confused, “Nice observation skills.”
James rolled his eyes, “You know what I mean.” He started, “You’re smart, and you have this whole…” He gesticulated his hands in front of Regulus, “Mysterious energy. And you have nice…hair, I suppose. Girls like that sorta stuff. I heard.”
“Well, the energy and the hair is not doing it, then. No one’s after me.” He confessed. “Not that I care about that, by the way. I don’t.”
James laughed softly, “Sure you don’t.”
“I don’t. ” He repeated, firmer this time.
“ Okay ,” The other boy said, in the same tone. After a moment, he continued, “Not even the Ravenclaws?”
Regulus smiled, “No, not even them.”
“Oh, I thought-“ James stopped mid sentence.
“What?”
“It’s nothing.” He dismissed, shaking his head.
Regulus groaned, “You always do this.”
James looked at him, “I just thought you had walked out of spin the bottle because…I don’t know…maybe you were dating that Ravenclaw?”
“ Pandora ?” He asked, to which James shook his head affirmatively. “She’s one of my best friends!” He continued, amused, “Why would you think that?”
“Well, you’re always with her.” Regulus thought for a second that James seemed almost…annoyed? If he hadn’t known James, he would’ve thought he had said it in a way almost accusative.
“So that obviously means we’re dating.” Regulus joked, “Merlin, James, I thought you had said you knew quite a lot.”
James rolled his eyes, smiling, “Fuck off.” They stayed in silence for a few seconds, both looking out at the bird passing by, and another one following shortly after. “So why then?
“Why did I walk out of that stupid, childish game?”
“Party popper.” James pinched him again.
After a moment, he said “I haven’t kissed anyone.”
“Oh.” James replied, quietly.
“Didn’t want my first kiss to be in a random game with a random person.”
“ Oh.” He said it again.
“I know it’s lame.”
“It’s not. I’m just…surprised.”
“Figured you’d be, since you’re some sort of Casanova.”
“Casa what?”
“Casa nova . A Muggle thing. It’s when someone has many lovers.”
James went quiet for a second, “You think that?” He asked, quietly.
“Well, differently from me,” He started, “Girls actually go after you. All the time. You’re always surrounded by them everywhere you go. And you encourage them by taking their letters and chocolate boxes and…wait, didn’t one of them try to slip you some love potion? Heard she got two weeks of detention.”
James looked down at the floor, “Sorry to disprove your perception of me, but you’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
“I never kissed anyone either.” The boy confessed.
Regulus didn’t believe that for a second. He just kept looking at James, with a suspicious look, waiting for James’ serious face to falter. He waited for the pun of the joke, but it never came. “You’re telling the truth?”
“Yes.”
“But…You’re… You .’’
The other boy laughed, “Nice observation skills, Reggie.”
“Well, you surely know what I mean, since everyone says it to you everyday. I’m not contributing to feeding your ego even more, Mr. Quidditch Captain.”
“Hm, mean. Nice.” He faked being hurt, “You really know how to get me going.”
“You’ll get over it.”
They stayed in silence for a few minutes, both looking at the grounds in front of them. They could see the Ravenclaw tower from here, as well as the Great Hall. If you squinted, you could see the Quidditch field, but it was only a spot in the dark. The muffled sounds from inside were louder now that they weren’t speaking. People were screaming like crazy, and Regulus thinks he might have heard glass being thrown against the wall. How do the Gryffindors get away with these parties? He may never know. A thousand Silencing Charms, maybe.
James turned to him in a halt, “Tell me if I sound crazy-”
“You sound crazy.” He interrupted.
The boy ignored him, “What if we…kissed?” James asked more than suggested. He had a glint in his eyes, a playfulness that took Regulus back in time and that, for a second, it seemed as though they were little kids again and James had just suggested a new game for them to play.
“You really are crazy.” Regulus dismissed, more amused than anything. They were all used to James’ weird plans and ideas.
“Think about it.” He continued, with the tone of voice he used when he was absolutely certain he had come up with something genius. “We’ll both kiss someone…we know. Someone important. It will mean something because we mean something to each other.” He stopped to analyse Regulus’ expression, in search of understanding, “And there’s also the fact that if we both suck at it, then it wouldn’t be embarrassing in the way that it would be with someone else.”
Regulus hated that James was making sense. It seemed like everything that came out of his mouth instantly became the universally acknowledged truth. He had the power to convince you to do the stupidest things just for the hell of it.
“But don’t you think it might be…weird?” Regulus said. He imagined kissing James at that moment and he had felt some sort of twirl in his stomach, a rush of cold that nearly made him lose his breath, which was the same thing that happened when he thought about taking the OWLs next year.
James appeared unfazed, “I don’t think so.” He shrugged.
Regulus looked around, no one could see them from here. He couldn’t believe he was considering this. James was right, though it pains him to admit. He would get his first kiss out of the way, and in addition, it would be with someone, as James had put it, important .
Someone he trusted. Someone he… liked. In a friendly way, of course, he reminded himself.
“Alright.” He responded after looking around again. Maybe someone was looking from the Ravenclaw Tower, or the Forbidden Forest. “Let’s do it.” James' eyes lit up again, his smile shining just as bright.
“You won’t regret it, Reg.” The boy said, confidently, “Peter looked at my cup in Devination class and he said that I will be an excellent and caring lover.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, “You won’t be my lover. This will last five seconds at most.”
Now was James’ turn to look around. “Imagine Sirius coming in while we’re at it.” He laughed.
“I’d rather not.”
They were already standing quite close to each other, but James took a big leap ahead and their whole bodies were almost touching now. Regulus caught his breath without meaning to, and he begged James hadn’t noticed. “Should we just…do it, then?” He whispered, though he didn’t know why.
“Don’t see why not.” James whispered back.
“Do it, then.” He teased.
“You do it.” James challenged back with a mischievous smile.
Regulus rolled his eyes, annoyed, “You’re such a-” James pressed their lips together, closing the little distance that was left in between them.
It was gentle. Of course it was. James was a gentle person. James did everything with absolute care and tenderness, as if all things were worth his kind regard.
It was slow for the first few seconds of it, like they were testing the waters, trying to determine what was allowed and what was forbidden. James’ hands went to hold onto his neck, clasping his hair in the process. That was definitely allowed. Regulus felt like he might faint at any point if it weren’t for James’ grip holding him still.
Regulus had no idea what he was doing, but it was like they were figuring it out together. After every second that would pass, they’d become more and more confident and after a while, he felt like he had been put on this Earth to be kissed by James Potter. He felt the urge to make it…more. Whatever more was. So he did. He kissed James harder. And it wasn’t weird, or embarrassing, or awkward. It felt right . It felt like two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.
He felt dizzy, and he hadn’t even drunk half a cup of firewhiskey. James tasted of mint. Of course he did. He couldn’t put down those Muggle candies Remus got him.
James seemed as engaged as Regulus, holding him like he was water in his hand, about to escape at any minute in between his fingers. When James let go of his mouth and started kissing his neck, Regulus made a sound that awoke him from this hazy, crazy, parallel, alternative reality he was in. He took a big step back, gasping for air. James almost fell to the floor and Regulus thought that maybe he had been the one preventing it from having happened before.
They just kept looking at each other. As for Regulus, not because he didn’t have anything to say, but too much of it.
This is going to ruin me , he kept thinking.
“Regulus, I-” James broke the silence, getting closer to him.
He took another step back, which made James stop in a halt. “I have to…Um…” Regulus looked around, trying to find an excuse, “Find Sirius.” He made his way to the window. “Just remembered I have to…do something for him.”
He lingered for a few seconds. He just had the need to look at James a little longer. James knew he was lying. Regulus knew he knew. James knew Regulus knew he knew.
“See you around, James.”
James’ cheeks were even more flushed than before the kiss, and his glasses were a little crooked. His hair was a wild mess. The thought that the boy looked lovely came to Regulus’ mind.
“See you, Reg.”
He had ignored James for weeks after that, and when they started speaking again, they just pretended the kiss had never happened.
A thud at the window brought him back to the present. He jumped a bit, but soon realized it must have been the rain.
Then it happened again. And then a third time. Someone was throwing pebbles at his window. He got up and hesitantly made his way to the other side of the room. He couldn’t see anything due to the fog up glass. He opened it, and as soon as he did, a pebble hit him in his shoulder.
“Oh, shit .” He heard a voice saying from the street. He knew that voice. “I’m sorry!”
“ James?” He said, startled. There he was. Looking up at him, soaking in rain, with his stupid lopsided grin on. “What are you doing here, you crazy person?”
“You’re alone?” He said in a tone that seemed like he knew the answer, but asked anyway just to make sure.
“Um- Yes, they- They’re out.” Regulus managed to answer, even though he still couldn’t believe what was happening.
“Can I come in, then?”
“ James,” Regulus started, looking around trying to figure out what sort of prank this was, “Are you insane? This is Grimmauld Place, if my parents find out a Potter was here they’ll finish the job of deserting me once and for all.”
Wait. That’s not that bad of an idea, actually. He’s been searching for ways to leave this place since Sirius left last year. His mum’s been pressuring him to join that crazy man’s little insane head’s cult wannabe and Regulus wants no part in that fucking nonsense. Maybe he could finally just… leave. James was here , and his parents weren’t. Without knowing, James arrived at the perfect time to free him from this hellhole.
Sirius has been talking to him about it, too. He’s told Regulus many times how he’s welcomed to arrive at the Potter’s Manor, Sirius’ current residency, anytime he wanted. But he just never found the perfect time. If he left while his parents were here, he could only imagine what his parents would do to him. He’s the only heir left, they wouldn’t let him leave without putting up a little fight. And by little he means they would rather kill him than to lose another heir who renounced the title.
“Please, Reg-” James was starting to say.
“I’ll let you in.” Regulus interrupted, already making his way downstairs.
Regulus stopped to think for a second before opening the door to his house. Was James here because of the letter? Was he here because Sirius sent him to get him? Was he here because he had a death wish?
You never know with James. Just like you never know with Sirius. They’re both unpredictable. For all he knows, he could be here to sell him Boy Scouts’ biscuits because he randomly decided to join them this summer for a laugh.
He also couldn’t imagine James being here, in this house. This place was tainted , cursed, dark, while James was the opposite of all that. Regulus couldn’t fathom the possibility of those two things coexisting in the same reality. For a second, he fantasized about the idea of opening this door and this whole house burning down with James’ light.
Once he finally turned the knob, he was met with the biggest smile he’s even seen. James launched at him as though Regulus had just arrived from war. For the first few seconds, he couldn’t even move. He just stayed there, with his arms hanging in the air, but James just held him even tighter, and he came to his senses to hug him back.
“You’re wet.” He said.
“Well, Reggie, I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s raining cats and dogs outside.” James replied, matter of factly. Regulus rolled his eyes and cast a drying charm. “They’re really not here?” James asked, whispering, as if Walburga and Orion could hear him from wherever they were.
“Dinner party at Narcissa’s.” He whispered back. Kreacher was still here.
“You didn’t go.”
“Having dinner with blood purist’s fascists is not exactly my idea of fun.” Regulus half laughed.
James let go of him, but didn’t go any farther. He grabbed Regulus’ face, looking at him intently, “Do you want to leave?”
He didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes.” Regulus let out the breath he was holding, “ Please .”
James just nodded, “Let’s go get your things.” He took Regulus’ hands, guiding him upstairs, “We have to leave before they come back.”
Regulus let him be guided through the house. How did James know his way around this maze? He had no idea. But James opened the door to his room and went straight to his closet, emptying it out of his clothes. “D’ya have a bag?” He asked, in a hurry.
Regulus summoned his suitcase, “Yes, here.” And then he started to grab some books, his hidden things, his journals, materials from Hogwarts, everything he thought was valuable to him.
They danced through his room in silence, grabbing Regulus’ possessions and putting it in the suitcase, which had an extension charm, and after a few minutes of rapid work, Regulus was satisfied. “That’s enough.”
James stopped, “Are you sure? You’ll have plenty of room at home.”
“I’m sure.” He said, looking around his room. He didn’t want to bring everything with him. There were some things he knew he had to leave behind. “I don’t need much.”
“We’re good to go, then.” James grabbed the suitcase, closing it up.
“James.” Regulus said.
“I came by the knight bus. Mum wouldn’t let me apparate, still thinks I ought to practice a bit more. Is your fireplace working? We could floo—”
“ James .” He repeated, harshly this time.
The other boy stopped.
“Why are you here?” He asked, softer than he intended.
“I’m here for you.” James said, walking toward him. “I’m here to get you out of here.”
“You don’t have it, then?” Regulus asked, confused. “The letter.”
James put his hand in his pocket, taking out an envelope Regulus knew all too well. The other boy handed it to him, as if he needed Regulus’ seal of approval that it was a real thing. He opened it, though he knew what was written word for word.
James,
Picture this: You’re in a train with a beautiful boy, and you won’t tell him that you love him, but you love him. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed Gringotts, or swallowed illicit potions, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a train with a beautiful boy and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.
I won’t pretend to believe that the boy loves me the same. I know you don’t. You’re too kind, too gentle, too bright for me. I’m hard, my actions are far from noble, I live in a place almost as dark as me and I’m not brave like you. I feel very small. I don’t understand. I have so much courage, fire, energy, for many things, yet I get so hurt, scared, so wounded by small things.
You scare me, James. My love for you scares me. You and Sirius are the only people in the world I'd do anything for. Remember First Year? You and Sirius showed me around the whole castle. We spent hours walking around, and it was far past curfew, but you insisted I must see everything so I wouldn’t get lost. I was already long gone by then, I just didn’t know it yet. But what I did know was that I had such a need to merely talk to you. Even when I had nothing to talk about – with you, I just seem to go right ahead and sort of invent it. And I’d never tire of conversing with you, because, as frivolous and silly as it might have been the subject, it was you talking to me. What I mean to say, perhaps, is that, in a way, I am never empty of you; not for a moment, an instant, a single second. I don’t know if you know this, but Muggles use something called gasoline for their cars. I read it in a book. Without gasoline, the car’s as good as nothing. You’re like gasoline. You, James, are like being bathed in sunlight. Sometimes, I feel like you’re the sun itself. And we have no choice but to be pulled towards your gravitational force.
Here is a list of a few things that I won’t ever forget: Second Year, we all went into the Black Lake and you spent the entire time teaching me how to swim, even though the boys were calling you to play chicken with them. Still Second Year, you taught me the silencing spell so I could read in the common room without being bothered by the noises. Third Year, I was starting to be mean to you because Sirius spent all his time by your side, and still, you talked to me everyday. Fourth Year, we were at the Ravenclaw’s party after they won the Quidditch cup against Gryffindor. I drank for the first time and got sick, and you found me and took me to the roof so I wouldn’t throw up in front of everyone. You held my hand, and I’m sure it was disgusting, but you didn’t say anything about it. Instead, you conjured water and a cup, and offered your shoulder for me to sleep in. I never thanked you for that. What a prick I am. Still Fourth Year, I wanted to join the Quidditch team, and you saw me practicing in the field. As the best player in your team, you gave me all sorts of advice, even though I’d be on the opposite side. But I let you speak, and speak, and speak, simply because I missed you. I didn’t need advice. I’m great at Quidditch. But you knew that too. So I kept wondering why you would bother. Still Fourth Year, when we gave each other our first kisses. I ran away because I was scared. I had never felt anything like that before. It was too great of a feeling. I ignored you for weeks. But even after that, you still treated me like nothing was different.
Fifth Year, the year everything changed. Sirius left Grimmauld Place. I wanted to go with him, but I didn’t. We stopped talking. But you insisted. You insisted on checking up on me. I was properly mean to you, to everyone, for the matter. I was angry at everything. I had lost my brother, my best friend; he wouldn’t even look my way, because he thought I was like our parents. But I wasn’t. I’m not. Couldn’t he see? I was protecting him. I was all they had left. If the spare ran away too, while the righteous heir was still available, they’d do anything to get Sirius back.
Sirius needed you more than me. He needed Remus — yes, of course I know about him and Remus. Sirius is more sensitive, so I had to be the sensible one. I gave him a way out.
I needed to make sure he was safe with you. I needed the guarantee that my parents wouldn’t be able to just barge into your house and steal him from you. And now that I’m sure of that, I’ll think about myself. Now I know I can leave this place.
I’ll tell you now what a perfect life means to me. The life I’ve envisioned everyday in order for me to be able to fall asleep. Imagine this, please: Me and Sirius have a perfectly normal, brotherly relationship. We fight, we make up. We know we love each other without even having to say it. He and Remus live together in a Muggle flat in Central London. You and I live somewhere in the countryside. I love the quiet, and you love nature. We visit each other every weekend. We go out, we stay in. We water our plants, we feed our animals, we gather vegetables, and we collect water from the well. Even though we could do all of that with the flick of our wands, we choose to do it without magic. On lazy Sundays, I read my book with my head in your lap, and you watch me turn the pages. Sometimes you read it with me, sometimes you just run your hands through my hair and fall asleep in the process. We fly together. We have competitions of who’s faster. Sometimes you win, and I have to do something for you. And sometimes I win, and you have to do something for me. On weekdays, we have discussions about who’s going to clean the house. I did it last time, I say, now is your turn, baby. Did you really? You ask. Yes really, I reply back. You hate cleaning, but you do it anyway. And without you knowing, I help you clean. We swim in the lake everyday, and we lay on the grass and we let the sun vaporize the water off of us. We kiss, we make love. We’re happy. We’re perfect. My lips are swollen from your kisses. Your neck has a mark in it. We have to go back inside because your parents are coming for dinner and we haven’t started making it yet.
But going back to reality, I know it was you who talked sense into Sirius’ head. It was you who made him talk to me again. He didn’t have to tell me that, I just knew. You know why? Because you always see me for who I really am. That used to scare me. I never wished to be easily defined. I’d rather float over other people’s minds as something strictly fluid and non-perceivable; more like a transparent, paradoxically iridescent creature rather than an actual person. But you saw right through me everytime. With you, I was real even when I didn’t mean to.
I made a mental note to myself: do not get existencial in this letter. It is a bore, I know. But I’m writing this and my thoughts are slipping away from my brain and landing right on this piece of parchment and I can’t help but tell you another thought I was having: What makes us so mean? Well, apart from you. You’re not mean. You know—surely it has occurred to you— that there is no way that humankind will survive another million years. We'll be lucky to be around another five hundred. Why?
Because we are so mean that we would rather kill everyone and everything on earth than let anybody get the better of us.
It’s just that sometimes I feel as though I am talking mean in order to be more like other humans—it's lonely feeling like a saint, which I do one second every five weeks, but that one second is so intense I can't stand up. I can't be a saint, I am not even a religious person, I am hardly a person at all except when I look at you and think that this life with you in it must go on forever because it is so perfect, with all its imperfections, like your waistline that exists a little too much, and your smile that is a little too bright, your hair a little too wild, your dimples a little too deep, your lips a little too kissable.
I wish the world was ending tomorrow. Then I could arrive at your doorstep, and say: “Come with me, James. We are going to love each other without scruples or fear or restraint. Because the world is ending tomorrow.” But you don’t love me like that, do you? You love me as an extension to Sirius’ existence. You love me because he loves me. You love me because I’m his little brother that needs protection. You love me because you’re you, and to love is your nature. You don’t love me in a way that consumes you, like I love you.
You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, James, is love. Your love is like a tool that rummages in my soul and allows me to discover myself, finding hidden things lost in the darkest corners of my being.
And, Merlin has my soul, I want you. I want in fact more of you. I don’t have nearly what I consider enough of you. In my mind I am dressing you with light; I am wrapping you up in blankets of complete acceptance and then I give myself to you. I long for you; I who usually long without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you.
I thought I could get over it. Make myself forget you and only see you as my brother’s best friend who happened to be a friend to me as well. But it’s never over, I’d give my title for a kiss upon your shoulder. James, I’d give my riches for your smile, all my blood for the sweetness of your laughter.
You’re the tear that will hang inside my soul forever. You will be nothing more than just a fantasy. Will I ever learn how to quit you?
Yours,
(now I'm even losing my name - it was getting shorter and shorter all the time and is now: Yours)
R.A.B
“I thought it was such a tremendous coincidence that you sent me this letter yesterday of all days.” James started, breaking the silence, and Regulus looked at him with a frown on his face, “We’ve been planning your rescue since summer started. We knew they wouldn’t be here. Dad heard Malfoy talking about the dinner party back in the Ministry, bragging about how Voldemort was gonna be there, and we knew today was the day to come and get you.”
Regulus felt a tear running through his cheeks for a second time that night. Bloody hell, he thought, I don’t wanna cry in front of James.
“It’s okay, Reggie.” He said, wiping his tears away. James tucked Regulus’ hair behind his ear. It has grown a bit since last year. His mum wanted him to cut it; it wasn’t appropriate for a boy. But he refused. James took a curl and started to twirl it. “You know,” James began, “We have a room ready for you since Sirius arrived last year.”
“How did you know I wasn’t going with them?”
“I just knew.” James smiled. “I know you, Reg. You said it yourself in your letter.” The boy took his hand, gently caressing his knuckles.
“You’re not…upset? About what I wrote.” Regulus asked, carefully. James looked at him with a gentle eyes, and intertwined their fingers, and Regulus thought he might actually melt to the floor.
“How could I be upset when the person I love loves me back?”
If he was dreaming, this was usually the time he’d be waking up. Kreacher would call him, telling him to join his parents for breakfast. Sometimes, when Regulus had stayed up late reading, Kreacher would have to shake him in order for him to properly wake up. He’d hear the loud sounds of the cars passing on the street, because it was always busy in London. He’d look in the mirror and prepare himself to face his parents. Put on the facade of the perfect son.
But he’s not waking up. He’s not hearing Kreacher’s voice. Outside, there is only the sound of the rain. In front of him, there isn’t a mirror. In front of him, there is a beautiful boy, telling Regulus that he loves him.
He’s played this scene in his mind before, of course he has. He’s imagined James professing his love for him in all different kinds of ways. But none of his fantasies could have prepared him for the warmth of James’ hands. None could have predicted the way James’ eyes would glisten, and the way they were looking right at Regulus’ eyes; tenderly, softly, gently.
“You…love me?”
James smiled again, and Regulus had already lost count on how many times he did it since he got here. “You don’t believe me?” He said, “I’ve loved you ever since I’ve known you, Reg.”
Regulus let go of James, turning his back from the boy, “I don’t understand.” He started, pacing around his room, “You’re not making any sense.”
“I’m making perfect sense.” He said, almost amused.
Regulus turned to look at him again, “No, you’re not!” He shouted, forgetting Kreacher might hear him. But Kreacher must already know James is here, so if he really cared, he’d have warned Regulus’ parents the second the boy got here. “You don’t get to just show up here unannounced to rescue me like you’re Prince Fucking Charming in a white horse and tell me that you love me.” He spit out, already losing his breath, “It doesn’t work like that. You have to mean it, James. You don’t have to love me just because I do.”
James made his way to Regulus again, “But I do!” He shouted back, “I do love you, Reg!” He looked at the floor for a moment, putting his fingers in his temples and adjusting his glasses. Regulus knows he does that when he’s trying to gather his thoughts. “Don’t you see?” He started, calmer this time, “ I was the one always chasing you around! Every conversation, every encounter, everytime we saw each other. I was the one coming to you ! I might not have realized it before, but since our kiss everything became so clear. ” James stopped for a second, trying to search in Regulus’ face any sign of recognition of what he just said. “I want to be around you all the time, but you never sought me out. That’s why I never said anything, Regulus. I thought you only saw me as your brother’s annoying friend that just kept bothering you!”
Regulus didn’t know what to say. He was so taken aback by James’ words. But it was true. James’ has always been the one looking for him. He was the one that always invited Regulus to play with him and the other boys when they were little, the one that made him come along to Hogsmead on weekends, the one that approached him at the locker room after every Quidditch practice. He’s the one that says Good morning in the hallways. He’s the one that finds him in places Regulus is sure no one even knows about. James finds him every time.
“I never thought you could love me back.” James continued, now face to face with Regulus. “When I got your letter yesterday, I thought something terrible had happened to you. It’s been years since the last time you wrote to me.”
“I’m sorry, James.” He said, hugging the other boy. He buried his head in James’ neck like its touch might cure all the troubles in his head. “I’m sorry I was so mean to you. I never meant it.”
James kissed his shoulders, “I know you didn’t.”
“It was just my way of protecting myself, my feelings. I didn’t want to get too close to you, knowing it would never be close enough.”
“You may be as close as you’d like, Regulus. I’m yours.” James confessed, “I’ve always been yours.”
Regulus couldn’t take it anymore, “Can I kiss you?”
“I’ll beat you to it.” James grabbed his face, holding him like he might slip away at any time. It was even better than what he remembered. He had thought about that first kiss so many times that it had started to feel like a figment of his imagination, but kissing James now felt like returning to his rightful place, returning to something that was made solely for him. Regulus could almost taste his tears, but what really stuck out to him was James’ minty breath, and how familiar it felt. James was still obsessed with those mint Muggle sweets. After every summer, Remus would bring him a box full of it, and James always has some in his pocket everywhere he goes.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” James said, letting go of his lips just to cling into his neck. He kissed every bit of it, so hungrily it seemed as though he hadn’t eaten for days.
Regulus felt holy .
Here, being held by James, being kissed like this, he finally understood the true meaning of worship. “I couldn’t bear the thought of not kissing you again.” James whispered in his ear, and the feeling of it could have swallowed Regulus up whole. James reached for his lips again as if reaching for water after a drought.
Regulus didn’t know this version of himself yet. He didn’t know he could feel this much all at once. It was entirely different than when they kissed almost two years ago. That was exploratory, a trial. This had purpose , this felt like a mission. Like something they had to do, otherwise the whole world could blow up at any minute.
All Regulus could think of was James. James’ lips in his, James’ smell, James’ whole body glued to Regulus’, James’ hair, James’ neck, James, James, James.
“ James .” He barely managed to say, feeling weaker than ever before.
“That’s my name, yes.” The other boy teased in between kisses.
Regulus smiled against his teeth, “You’re such a knob.” He then held James’ cheek, caressing it in a way he dreamed of once. And James let him. By the way he was looking at Regulus, he thought James might let him do anything he wanted, if he only asked.
“You know, Regulus,” James started, “You claim you haven’t been nice to me, but there isn’t anything nicer than simply being with you.”
Regulus kissed him again for that, “Let’s get out of here.”
James smiled at him. Of course he did. “Let’s go.” He took Regulus’ suitcase, then took his hand, and guided him through the house, arriving at the formal living room with the fireplace.
“How do you know where everything is?” He asked, genuinely confused by James’ familiarity with the house’s layout.
“Sirius drew a map for me. This is a mission , Reg. I didn’t come here to play.” James responded, in a manner he always did when it came to serious marauders’ business.
“Oh, really? ” Regulus teased, pulling him by his arms and locking him in, “And what were we just doing upstairs? A conference meeting?”
James put his arms around Regulus’ waist, now being the one locking him in, with his face only inches away, “That, my darling…was part of the mission.”
“Oh, was it now?”
The other boy kissed his smile, “I was a focused man, Reg. Having you has been on my mind for years now. And after your letter, I could finally put a start to my plan.” James kissed him again. “Well, I was gonna wait until we got out of here to actually put a start to it, but…you know.”
“I know.”
“D’ya got floo powder?” James asked, “We closed our Floo Network when Sirius moved in, but we opened it tonight.”
Regulus made his way to the vase above the fireplace, “We have some, a little. We don’t usually use it.” He took some for him and handed a handful to James, “Here.”
“Alright, we’re good to go.” He said, entering the fireplace and offering his hand to Regulus.
For a moment, Regulus looked around the living room, and flashes of his life filled his mind. He didn’t want to think about any of those moments, nor did he feel compelled to feel bad about leaving this place. He knows he has to do it, wants to do it. But still, he lingered for a few seconds. After all, this was where he grew up.
“Regulus?” James called, his hand waiting for him.
One last look.
A moment.
“I’m ready.”
Soon enough, there they were at the Potter Manor, and just as quickly as he arrived, he felt his brother’s arm pulling him into his.
“Brother!” Sirius pleaded, earnestly. “You’re finally here.” Sirius' face was buried in their embrace, and Regulus was sure he was crying. Merlin, they both were.
“I’m here.” He replied, shakily, his voice almost failing him completely.
Sirius took his cheeks with his hands, “I’m never leaving you again, Reggie.” Then kissed his temple, just like he did when Regulus used to go to his room in the middle of the night because he didn’t want to be alone. “I love you, little brother.”
Sirius wiped Regulus’ tears away, and he kissed Sirius’ temple, “I love you, big brother.”
They hadn’t said that to each other since they were twelve. But that didn’t matter anymore. None of that mattered now. What did matter was that they had found each other again, and they weren’t going anywhere.
After everything, they chose each other.
“Regulus, we’re so glad to have you here.” He heard a gentle voice say. He turned to her, James’ mom. She’s always been so kind to him. That used to be a slap on the face when he’d compare Walburga to Euphemia.
“I hope it’s okay.” He said, carefully, “I don’t want to impose.”
“Nonsense, my dear.” She went to him, hugging him too, “This is your house now.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Potter.”
“Call me Effie, please.” She said, tucking his hair behind his ear. “The boys will take you to your room, alright? Monty’s putting up more Protection Spells outside, and I’ll go check up on him.” Regulus nodded in agreement, “If you need something, anything , just tell me.” He thanked her again.
He’ll be thanking her his whole life.
Sirius and James carried his things upstairs and Regulus followed behind them, trying to take his surroundings up all at once. He’s never been here before and yet, it felt so warm and familiar.
This was a home .
“This is it.” James said, opening the door to his new bedroom.
He entered the room and his eyes immediately filled with tears. The room had a giant bookshelf, posters of Quidditch on the wall, forest green sheets on the bed and a table with a vast collection of pens and quills.
“We’ll let you breathe for a minute, okay?” Sirius said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Take your time to settle in. If you need anything, I’m just across from you.”
“Alright.” He managed to reply. Sirius hugged him again, and James kissed his cheek.
As soon as they left, Regulus cried. He cried like a child. A combination of interminable happiness, immeasurable relief, and inestimable gratitude taking over him like a violent wave in a storm.
Regulus spent the first week at the Potter Manor mostly secluded in his room. He needed time to accommodate himself with the new environment around him. Sirius would bring him breakfast and they’d spend the whole morning talking or simply enjoying each other’s silence and presence. He couldn’t bring himself to have lunch at the dining room with everyone just yet, so James would be the one to join him for lunch in the little balcony Regulus had in his room. He and James hadn’t disclosed the new status of their relationship with anyone yet. They wanted to keep it just theirs for a little longer — also, they were afraid of Sirius’ reaction, but that’s a problem for another day. In the afternoons, James and Sirius would convince Regulus to join them in the garden or the lake, where they’d spend the time doing everything and nothing.
At night, Regulus’ social battery would be at its lowest, so he’d excuse himself to his room, sleep, and wait for Sirius to wake him up the next morning.
After the first week, he had become more accustomed to everything. He’d sometimes go down for breakfast or lunch, and other times join them for dinner. Never both on the same day.
Monty showed him the library and said he could borrow any book he wanted, and he found himself spending most of his time there. It was way bigger than Grimmauld’s library, and it actually contained real books, not weird spell books teaching dark magic. The Potter’s had an extensive variety of subjects in their collection, such as herbology, charms, quidditch, fiction, astronomy, potions, and so on. They even had a section with muggle literature, which featured all of Oscar Wilde’s works, as well as Jane Austen, Dostoevsky, Borges, and so many more Regulus hadn’t heard of yet.
Effie would sometimes ask him to help her cook. He knew she wanted him to feel included, so he’d agree to make her happy. Usually, he'd just follow her orders to chop vegetables, get something from the pantry, or stir the pot. But, mostly, he’d just watch her cook while she’d talk to him. She liked to talk about her job as a Healer, embarrassing stories about James, her time at Hogwarts, her favorite books and movies, and the many hobbies she had.
After a while, it all became simple and natural. Day after day, he felt more and more that maybe he had belonged here all along. This was the place he was supposed to be since the beginning.
Here, he felt caredfor. He felt calmer and safer than ever before. Even at Hogwarts, which was considered one of the safest places in the world, he was still surrounded by people that were anything but. Here, he didn’t have to look over his shoulder and watch every step and every word.
Here, he was free .
“You’re playing again.” Regulus heard a voice from behind him.
He looked out the window instead of James, to whom the voice belonged to. It was one of those panoramic windows that didn’t open, its purpose meant for bright lighting and incredible views from the Potter’s garden.
Regulus may never get used to such brightness, he kept thinking, having lived in the pits of darkness that is Grimmauld Place for seventeen years of his life. Here, it seemed everything was upside down, as though he entered a parallel universe in which darkness didn’t exist and being bathed in sunlight everyday was the norm, and his pupils were in a constant state of dilated, persistently trying to adjust to the intense light rays.
“Before, I only played because of them.”
Growing up as the spare for the House of Black, he wasn’t met with the same expectations as they had for Sirius. Sirius played piano until his fingers bled, Regulus played until it was time for Sirius to play again.
It’s no wonder his brother hasn’t touched a piano in three years.
“When Sirius left,” He continued, still looking at the flowers Effie had planted a few days ago, sitting shyly next to the older ones that have been there for months and were already in bloom, “I refused to go on with the lessons. She cursed me with the Cruciatus, said I was now the heir and had to get to my brother’s level. But I never cared about that. The only thing I liked about the lessons was hearing Sirius play and being in his presence, even though we weren’t allowed to talk during it. Also, I knew I’d never live up to him, so why bother?”
James sat down next to him, “Regulus-“
“Sorry,” He interrupted, “I’m babbling.”
“Don’t apologize for that.” The other boy said, gently. At first encounter you’d say he’s more like his father, both being incredibly funny, outgoing, and communicative, but James was also very much like his mother. He had the same cadence in his speech as Effie, enunciating the words in the same rhythm and flow.
He was the best of both of them.
Regulus looked at him, then. His skin was glowing — it always did, but especially in the summer. His hair was messier than usual, since he just came back from flying with Sirius, and James was carrying a lightness of spirit that made it seem as though life is a blessing and worthwhile.
He answered nothing to that, still kind of ashamed of his short confession. Instead, he just ran his hands through James’ wild hair, as if in an attempt to tame it. The other boy leaned to the touch, closing his eyes, and kissed Regulus’ wrist, “What were you playing? Just then.” James asked, gently, in a whisper.
“Tchaikovsky.” He said, letting go of James’ hair and playing the keys loosely and randomly, trying to make up different melodies. “It’s called Pas de deux. It was composed for Act lll of Swan Lake, which is from a Muggle dance called Ballet.”
“You know so much.” James said, astonished, looking at Regulus as if he carried the secrets of the universe. “Would you play it for me?” The boy continued, whispering in his ear, a cold shiver running down his whole body.
Regulus hesitated. He hadn’t played for anyone in quite some time, and even then, he’d play mostly to his teacher or Kreacher. But there were few things James would ask that Regulus wouldn’t do with eyes closed.
So he did. He closed his eyes and let his muscle memory take over, trying not to focus too much on the fact that James’ side was completely pressed to his.
For five minutes, Regulus played like he was an extension of the piano in front of him, losing complete awareness of anything around him. Tchaikovsky’s melody filled the room and, with his eyes on the keys, he watched his hands absentmindedly hitting each note. It was always like this. His teacher had said it before, “ Regulus, it’s like you go to another dimension. ”
He’d close his eyes, and it was like someone else was playing, and he could just hear the music. Sometimes, he’d pretend it was Sirius.
He doesn’t know when he started to cry, but James took his head and buried it in his chest, now being the one running his hands through Regulus’ hair while saying gentle things.
“It’s okay…it’s okay…you’re okay…” James kept repeating, softly. After a few minutes of this, when Regulus’ tears had stopped, he said, “You’re so talented, Regulus. Sometimes, I can’t even believe you’re real.”
“You should hear Sirius play.” He replied, colder than intended, “He’s the good one.”
“Stop this, Reggie.” James said, assertively, “Stop comparing yourself to Sirius. Sure, he’s good at a lot of things, but so are you. You’re good at so many things . You’re so smart. You know everything there is to know about astrology; every star, every constellation. You know so much about Muggle culture; their books, their movies, their music. You speak four languages, Reg. Four . That’s insane . You’re ace at Potions. I don’t know how to brew a simple Amortencia, and you’re basically Slughorn’s assistant. You’re a good listener. An amazing one, really. You listen and you understand. You’re good to magical creatures, all of them. You care for them in ways some people don’t understand. You’re an amazing friend, even though you think you’re not. You’re the best seeker at Hogwarts. You’d probably be the best chaser, keeper, or beater, if you wanted to.”
James made him look at him, then, his hands on Regulus’ cheeks, “Also, I must say, you’re incredibly good at kissing.” Regulus laughed at that, “No, really, like…” James continued, “It should be illegal to be that good at kissing.” James gave him a little peck on the lips, “Also, you’re so good at making me feel good. It’s a talent, really.” He kissed him again, more intently this time, almost making Regulus lose his breath with how earnestly James was kissing him. “You’re good at loving people.” He continued, now kissing his neck, “You think you’re cold, but you’re far from it, love. You’re so warm.” He went back to look at Regulus, “Everyone you love, you love them with all of you; you just have a different way of showing it, and that’s okay. There’s so many ways that you can love someone. Some people do it loudly, and others do it quietly, but one’s not greater or worthier than the other.”
Regulus couldn’t bear it any longer, he hugged James tighter than ever before. “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real, James.” He kissed the boy’s temple, “Can’t believe you’re here with me.”
“Well, I’m quite real.” James laughed, softly, “I’m real and I’m yours.”
He kissed him again. He never thought he’d have James like this, never thought he’d be able to kiss the boy this easily just because he wanted to. “I’m yours, too.”
And they kissed again.
“Merlin, do you guys never get tired of kissing each other?” Sirius said from the door.
The two jumped and separated in a halt, startled. They looked at Sirius, then at each other, and at Sirius again, trying to figure out how to proceed. “Chill out, I’ve known for ages.”
“What?!” They both said.
Sirius continued, rolling his eyes, “You’re my brother, and you’re my best friend. Do you really think I don’t know you enough to know when you’re embarrassingly in love with someone?”
They still didn’t know what to say, looking at Sirius and waiting for him to burst out in anger and tell them to break up. But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he smiled and said, “C’mon, lovebirds, Effie’s calling us for tea.”