The Little King
When Regulus Black was five years old, his mother whispered to him, “One day, you will be king.”
You see, in all matters regarding the wizarding world, the Black family was royalty. Regulus had never had anything not given to him on a silver platter, except for the one thing he truly desired. He supposed it was the way of life - different people have different kinds of less. And how he wished he could trade all of the gold and entitlement for one look, a glimpse, a syllable. Sometimes, he thought he would sell his soul for it. One bite of true, unconditional love.
When Regulus Black was eleven years old, he met James Potter for the first time. And ever since then, he’s been trying to understand why. Why he met him, why he never seems to be able to tell him to fuck off, and why a posh boy with brown curls and a stupid, infuriating pair of round glasses can make him into butter melting in the sun without the slightest bit of effort.
Well, he was trying to understand. He’s pretty sure he’s got it now.
You see, Regulus grew up to be quite a fantastic liar. He wasn’t naturally very good at it as a kid, but he is nothing if not a quick and efficient learner. But the one thing liars won’t tell anyone - not even themselves - is that the better you get at lying to others, the better you get at being able to lie to yourself. And so the lines blurred. He was unsure of his emotions, whether or not he made them up, dreamed them in the hope they would become true or if the things he spent years killing himself over had actually happened.
Maybe that’s why it took so long to realize.
When Regulus was a child, soft and beguiling, in the dead of a cold night - he had hoped it had all been a dream. That he would wake up in another bed than his own, with a mother’s soft eyes not leering, but gazing upon him with mercy and love. The mother would say, we’ve been waiting for you. You just fell asleep, and it had all been a bad dream.
Regulus never woke up.
But he still saw that imaginary mother sometimes.
When he looked at James’ mum.
“Earth to Black.”
“Regulus.”
Oh, right.
Breakfast.
“Hmm?”
“What’s gotten into you?” Evan said as he took a loud bite out of his toast. Loud enough to make Regulus shake his head and remember where he was.
Which was at the Slytherin table. With all of his friends staring at him, with worried looks on their faces.
“M’fine,” he mumbled.
Barty looked like he could laugh. “Where’d you go off to yesterday?” he asked, trying to be casual about it.
“Potter.”
His friends exchanged excited looks between them. Like it was a reality show.
Have you ever walked into a room and knew everyone there was already talking about you?
“And?”
“And?” he added, gritting his teeth.
“Has the golden boy finally been deflowered?” he asked, impatiently.
“Properly shagged?” Evan offered with a grin.
“Engaged in unseemingly unhetereosexual acts?” said Dorcas.
“Did you fuck his brains out?” Pandora said, at last, a bit too loudly for his liking as some heads turned around and his traitorous friends all started laughing.
“Drop it.”
“What happened, though?” Barty persisted, gaining a very righteously given elbow to the ribs from Evan.
“Nothing,” he said, and with that got up from the table and left.
Their whispers escorted him as he hurried out of the great hall.
He knew that he’d have to apologize to them later. It wasn’t their fault. But he needed to get away from all of it for a while. Just to think. Just for a little bit. And so, he stood in front of a wall on the third floor and watched as the familiar door materialized out of nowhere.
Alas, he entered the room, staring at the familiar space again, unable to shake the view of the last time he was here, Potter standing there with his stupid face and his stupid, sheepish smile that untied the knots in Regulus’ stomach.
I just want to spend some time with you. Get to know you better.
Asshole.
You could say anything to me.
Regulus groaned in frustration and fell on the bed, still unmade from the last time James sat there, beside Regulus.
He drowned his head in the warmth of the sheets, inhaling whatever remained of his smell - his apple scented shampoo, with just the hint of eucalyptus.
Pathetic, he thought to himself, bitterly.
He didn’t have time to mellow, though.
Because the twist of a doorknob sounded, and he knew that someone was going in.
And it could only be one person.
He looked around the room, panicked.
He didn’t know why, exactly.
He could just tell him to fuck off.
But then again.
He couldn’t, could he?
Weak, he heard her voice, whispering to him in horror, as it did whenever he felt she would grow disappointed. How will you ever be king?
The sound of hesitating steps made its way into the room and Regulus didn’t take too long to roll under the bed, bolting from the one person he wanted to see and never lay eyes on again.
“Regulus?” His voice was soft, almost hopeful.
It was no question that James knew that he was there.
He must have known.
The sheets were freshly unmade and the footsteps must have graced him when he entered. The sound of Regulus’ short, hasty breaths must have been known, but James didn’t dare to look under the bed.
So he sat down and started speaking.
“I don’t know if you’re in here, or not. Guess it doesn't really matter. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye and tell you this, even if you were. So I just thought I’d come here. Well, I thought you came here after you stormed out of breakfast. I hope it wasn’t anything I did? though, you said it wasn’t, so I trust you.”
He took a deep breath before he spoke again. Regulus laid under the bed, still and waiting, as if the other shoe would drop any minute now, and force him to come out of hiding.
“I just…” he could almost see James ruffling his hair, “I think I’m in love with you, Regulus.”
He laughed.
“And I know you would think it’s so soon, and that I don’t know what I’m saying, or whatever. But I want to be with you. And it’s not new, and I don't think I’ve ever wanted something the way that I want you. And I want you, Regulus.”
Oh.
For a moment there, before James kept talking, Regulus wondered what would happen if he actually had the slightest bit of courage in him. Would he appear from hiding, kneeling before James and kissing him from where he sat, right above him? Would he grow angry, yelling and screeching at James, who wouldn’t care in the least, and just sit there and smile, waiting for Regulus to come around? Or would he cry, because though it seems perfect nothing can be done to mend the way Regulus loves, and nothing could explain to James why he can’t be with him.
Even if he wanted to.
But Regulus wasn’t brave. He never was.
And so, alone on the bed, James cleared his throat and kept talking.
“I think I’ve loved you for a while now, and if not to your face, then I needed to say it so that someone could understand. Y’know, you said that we both found this room because we were looking for the same thing. So, I guess what I'm saying is that I am looking, Regulus.”
The sheets made a ruffling sound as James got up from the bed. He paced as he approached the door, slowly, as if fearing he would wake someone up.
“I assume you’re in here. Or were, I guess,” Regulus’ heart throbbed, “so if you heard me, or didn’t, know that I mean everything I said, and that no matter what you think you deserve or don’t deserve, I don’t give up easily, and I don’t intend to go down without a fight. Not when it’s you that I’m fighting for.”
And just before he left, Regulus could have almost sworn he looked under the bed and smiled, musing softly to himself as he left the room.
Fuck.
When Regulus came back to the dorm, it wasn’t empty.
Stopping mid conversation, his friends looked up to him from their places on the floor. Dorcas, Evan, Pandora and the light coming from the restroom which he assumed to be Barty were present.
“... if you ask me, Ev, maybe he wasn’t down for it. I mean-” Barty started talking as soon as he opened the door. Noticing Regulus was there, he fell quiet, with a guilty look on his face.
Regulus sat down on the edge of the bed.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said quietly, “I was pissed and I took it out on you. Sorry.”
“S’alright. Don’t worry about it,” Barty smiled. Regulus knew that he was genuine.
“We were just worried a bit, Reg. Thought he might’ve… done something to make you…” Pandora started. It was a mix of a question and a statement.
“Oh, no. He didn’t do anything,” he laughed, a bit humorlessly, “well, he did everything , if I’m being honest. It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” she asked, carefully.
“He's in love with me.”
He said it simply.
Like it isn’t the most illogical thing in the world.
And for a moment, time froze, and the room was completely silent.
“What a bastard,” Barty said eventually. They all looked at him and started laughing. Even Regulus couldn’t find it in him to fight the grin.
“Dare I say, what’s the problem with that? I mean, you obviously-”
“It doesn't matter if I… I just can’t. I can’t.”
Barty opened his mouth, probably to ask why, but Evan shot him a look that made him silent again.
That seemed to properly bring the mood down again.
“You know what we should do?” Pandora said suddenly.
“Hmm?” Regulus mumbled, curious and unbothered at the same time.
“We should get really drunk.”
“Here, here!” Barty said, getting up at once.
There was nothing quite like the mention of alcohol to get him this excited. Well, that and Regulus’ love life.
“You know what?” he said suddenly, “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”
Pandora hurried and kissed his cheek and pulled out two large bottles of firewhisky from under Barty’s bed.
“Oi! How did you know it was there?”
“We all know where you keep your stash, you idiot. Why do you think you always run out so fast?”
“Bastards. Each and every one of you.”
“Oh, you love us really,” Pandora said and smacked a kiss onto his forehead.
He was on the ground.
Or against a wall?
Fuck.
He opened his eyes as the world spinned, and discovered that he wasn’t alone. There was a boy in front of him. He couldn’t remember his name for the life of him, but that didn’t seem to matter much with the boy being pressed to him, rising from his neck to his mouth.
Wall. Definitely a wall.
The boy smelled of whiskey, but the cheap kind that makes you regret ever drinking it. His breath was terrible, and his mouth wandered to all the places that it shouldn’t.
But his hair was curly. And for a second Regulus closed his eyes and thought about-
Oh, bugger.
His hand pushed the boy away from him as he started vomiting. He wasn’t sure if it was the boy’s bad breath, terrible kissing skills or the fact that despite his curly hair, he wasn’t and will never be James Potter.
“Oi!” the other boy exclaimed, disgustingly. Not as eager as he was before.
“Fuck,” he mumbled as he vanished the vomit from the floor.
“Well, this was unpleasant,” he looked at the boy. Silence ruled the hallway until he said, casually, “Obliviate.”
He looked as the boy’s face became clouded with a cool, dreamy expression, before he mumbled a quick ‘good night’ (Regulus was unsure about his memory erasure skills while drunk, but the words seemed to be directed to the air more than to himself, so he guessed that was a good sign).
“Idiot,” he whispered to himself as he leaned back against the wall. The bitter taste of vomit still lingering in his mouth, and his head spinning. It all seemed so blurry, and the thought that came to him right before he let go of the kiss haunted him. Could he not have pushed it away from his thoughts for one night?
He started walking.
Where, you may ask?
Where the skies are open and the shore lays bare.
The door to the astronomy tower was already open as he startled, limping and still dizzy from vomiting. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
“Regulus?” a soft voice whispered to him.
He opened his eyes.
He stood there. His eyes sad and his lips quivering, and my, was he a beautiful sight.
“No, no, no no no,” he cried.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” James sat quickly and put a hand on his shoulder, “Did someone hurt you?”
He started crying. Or laughing? He wasn't really sure. “Please,” he whispered. Unsure of what he was actually asking for. “Please.”
The world was dizzy, and so was James’ figure. His smell, intoxicating as he drew closer, was as clear and terrifying as the message his drunken words had bore. Please stay away from me.
“Are you… drunk?” James asked. He seemed worried, his eyebrows furrowed and his hand gripping Regulus’ shoulder, wishing to protect.
“Mhmm. ‘s lips were bad,” he mumbled, “kept kissin’ me.”
James stiffened next to him, and his eyes darkened. “Who?”
“Don’t know,” he mumbled, staring at James.
James sighed and put his hand through his hair.
“Regulus, I-”
“He looked like you.”
“What?” James whispered.
“He had curly hair.”
James let out a small whimper. Like he doesn’t even know where to begin.
“Please,” Regulus whispered, his eyes probably so big that James looked absolutely drunk as he stared at them, staring at Regulus like a helpless puppy. “Please.”
“What, Regulus? What do you need?” James whispered. His eyes wandered between his lips and his eyes.
And he knew he shouldn’t.
He shouldn’t.
“Need you to kiss me. Please, James.”
He wasn’t even sure that the words were his. The voice dragged out of his throat as he surged forward, chapped lips meeting with softer, gentler ones, pleas coming out of his mouth, relentlessly. For every kiss he shouldn’t give he pleads, and pleads, and pleads.
“Oh,” James whispered, “I can’t. You’re drunk, Regulus.”
His lips dropped down to his neck and he became aware that he was crying, tears mixing with gentle kisses, and oh, isn’t it so sweet, even when it’s salty. Isn’t it delicate?
“Stop,” James whispered, and for once Regulus looked up to him and listened. His hands curled in James’ lap, his eyes carried to his.
“Stop kissing me if you don’t mean it,” James whispered. “It hurts.”
“I mean it, I swear. Please. Please,” he whispered back. “Please.”
Please.
Please.
Please.
He leaned against James’ chest and closed his eyes again. James’ fingers slowly combed through his curls, his breath still hitching and his lips stained with Regulus’ tears.
“You’re okay, Reg. Just fine,” he hummed.
“James?” he said quietly.
“Yeah, Reg?”
“Don’t hate me tomorrow, okay?”
James sighed again. “I won’t. I promise.”
After a while, Regulus was shaken gently. “Let me take you back, okay?” James whispered near his ear, causing him to shiver. “Come on, I’ll take you to bed.”
“Mhmm.”
James smiled bitterly as he used his hands to lift Regulus and support his back. His fingers hovered gently over his torso, afraid to touch.
“Don’t… don’t take me to the dorms. Please,” he mumbled as they got up.
“Okay,” he said, “Where should I take you?”
“The room.”
James nodded and continued to walk him there. It was slow, like a dance, and Regulus was reminded of all the dance lessons he took as was required of a pureblood child. They say - put your right hand on the partner’s lower back, and so he did. James shivered but remained silent. What a tragic thing it must be, Regulus thought, that he is the one to dim the sun’s light.
“We’re here. Watch your step.”
And they walked in. James slowly helped him lay down on the bed.
“Good night, Regulus.”
“No, don’t go. Stay for a while.”
To his surprise, James doesn’t hesitate.
“Of course. I’ll stay.”
Regulus looked up at him from where he was laying down. His curls framed his face, hair wild and glasses falling on the bridge of his nose. His palm laid on Regulus’ absentmindedly brushing their thumbs together. And he looked at him, like he could really see him. He was beautiful.
“James?” he whispered. “Can I tell you something awful?”
James smiled, slowly getting back to himself from his previous state. “Yes,” he whispered back.
“I love you, too.”
James' jaw clenched and his eyes opened wide.
He opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something, and Regulus drew closer, waiting to soak in whatever it was.
But he didn’t say anything. His lips locked and a smile floated like a ghost on top of his lips.
“Say something.”
“Not tonight, Reg.”
He murmured in disappointment.
“Go to sleep, I won’t go anywhere until you fall asleep.”
“Come to bed with me,” he whispered.
“You know I can’t,” James smiled.
“Just be here. I won’t try anything, I swear.”
James hovered for a moment, considering it before he seemed to settle the matter and laid down next to him, earth eyes to gray and blue, black hair to dirty brown.
Regulus pulled himself closer to James, as if to antagonize him. He wanted to ask, the question lingering, imprisoned between his tongue and teeth, Am I offending you?
“I’m sorry,” he said instead.
“Don’t worry,” he said gently, “You’re drunk and it happens.”
“You know that’s not what I’m sorry for.”
“Then apologize to me sober. Not now, please?”
He shifted in his bed.
Before he closed his eyes, so tired from the long night he’s had, he could have sworn he’d heard his own voice mumble: “beautiful.”
When he woke up, he was alone in the room. It took him a minute to know where he was. A note laid beside him and he rubbed his eyes quickly to wake himself, his curls messy and his hand reaching for it.
Good morning.
Had to go to Quidditch practice.
Thought you might feel bad so there’s a veil at the table. Hangover potion.
James.
It could always be like this, he thought as he stared at the note.
He could almost see it. Waking up with a kiss to his forehead, going to sleep warm, surrounded with love. Meeting his parents, proving his friends right. Kissing in coffee shops and in muggle bookstores, smiling from across the same table, not just across the great hall, throwing a party and leaning on him for support when the alcohol hit too hard. Buying a present and wrapping it, excited for another to open it. Playing the piano with him on the other side of it, staring, mesmerized. Reading a book in a language he doesn’t know and struggling to find the english words to describe it to him. Writing a poem, receiving a kiss with no means to an aim, sex and a compliment and a rush.
Except, it couldn’t.
So Regulus got up from the bed, head still foggy, and downed the veil before exiting the room.