Requiem
“Prongs?” a muffled sound came through the curtains.
“Mmmf.”
“Prongs? Why are his drapes shut? ” the voice continued.
Another one sounded in the background.
James was never really a late sleeper, always waking up at the crack of dawn before his friends did, tiptoeing around the room as to not wake them.
That’s why it took him a little while to realize what exactly was going on.
“Shit. Shit. Regulus,” he shook his shoulder slightly. “ Regulus . Wake up.”
“Shut up. Let me sleep,” his voice sounded, sleepy and annoyed on James’ chest. His head laid there, his curls scattered, his shirt somewhere by the end of the bed and his head buried comfortably in James’ neck.
“I’m not kidding. Your brother is here.”
“No. No, no, no. What the fuck? Can he hear us?”
“Silencing spell.”
“He never closes the drapes. Do you think he’s okay?”
“I’m sure he is, let’s just-”
“Fuck,” James mumbled. “Fuck. Put your shirt on,” he picked it up from where it was carelessly thrown the night before and handed it to Regulus, zipping his own trousers back up.
“Yeah, I’m sure that if Sirius opened the drapes and saw us fully clothed he’d be sure we aren’t fucking,” Regulus snorted. James served him a tight stare - more of a please than a command - but Regulus rolled his eyes and started buttoning his shirt.
“James?” Sirius’ voice said, carefully.
“Answer him,” Regulus hissed.
James swallowed and removed the silencing spell.
“I’m here, Sirius.”
A moment of silence ruled the room, and Regulus was unsure of what was going on behind the drapes, as there was no movement or sound, and then James shot him a terrified look, unsure of how Sirius would react, and what he would say, and would he be-
“Are you alright? You disappeared last night. We were worried,” Sirius said, breaking the silence. There was still the hint of carefulness in his voice.
“ We weren’t worried, I told him you probably ran off to-”
“James? Can I open the drapes? I don’t know what’s going on,” Sirius cut in. He now sounded worried. Plain and simple.
“No, I’m-”
“You’re naked,” Regulus whispered, with a hiss, his voice almost inaudible, “Tell him you’re naked. He’ll back off.”
“ Oh my god . Is there someone in there with you?” Sirius’ voice sounded with glee all of a sudden, as if he was so pleased to have caught James hiding someone in his bed.
“NO! I’m- I’m naked. Don’t come in. Just… stark naked.”
“So? We’re on the team together. Nothing I haven’t seen, let me come in.”
“What the fuck?” Regulus whispered with a hard stare.
“Sirius, I-”
“Are you hostage in there? I’m opening the drapes.”
“NO, I-”
The drapes opened with a swift pull.
James’ eyes were suddenly blinded by the strong daylight coming through the large window.
“What the fuck.”
Through the corner of his eye, Regulus saw Remus standing there, his hair still messy from sleep, wearing yesterday’s clothes.
“Sirius,” Regulus started.
Because what can he say?
I’m sorry I fell in love with your best friend.
Well, that part happened a long time ago. So, how do you say sorry for something that happened so long ago, and that you should - technically - feel sorry for, but you really aren’t?
I’m sorry I couldn’t reject said best friend when he assured me he felt the same way.
But he wasn’t sorry. How could he be sorry about a beautiful boy with brown and messy curls, glasses that fall slightly on the bridge of his nose when he is being kissed, who has a sensitive spot on the left side of his neck, who speaks Hebrew and Spanish with a crooked smile and an usure tongue, that speaks so highly of his parents that you’d be quite sure such people don’t exist, that actually reads the books you recommend him when you do, and kisses every part of your body until you feel enlightened by love and adoration to an extent even the greeks would not know how to word, who knows classical dance and yet is somehow so terrible when it comes to traditional table manners, who adores knowledge and light and is a child of love - not perfect - but perfect for Regulus?
So, I’m sorry I had sex with your best friend.
But he’s definitely not sorry about that.
“Sirius?” James swallowed next to him.
They all seemed on edge, staring at Sirius. Remus, beside him with his eyes wide, shooting back and forth from Sirius himself to James and Regulus, who became more aware of how guilty they both looked right about now. James' shirt was nowhere to be found and he gave a failed (but honorable) attempt to draw attention from the fact with one of the blankets that was loosely tied around his waist. His hair was messy and his glasses crooked from just having put them on, his neck, well - there is no need to say.
Regulus, however, did manage to button his shirt all the way up and put a hand through his hair before the drapes were so dramatically opened, so he wanted to assume he looked at least presentable.
Or, as presentable as one can be when he is being caught half naked in bed with his brother’s best friend.
For a moment, staring into Sirius’ eyes, Regulus forgot James was there. James, who is probably at least equally freaked out about this as Regulus is.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to have a secret for a little while - their very own illicit affair - they were supposed to come back flushed and make lame, definitely unbelievable excuses. They were supposed to rejoice in the mercurial high that is being in love in secret, diving fast when they see each other in the hallways and stare shamelessly into space - to be woken up by a friend, unsuspicious at first but more so after the first few hundred times.
They were supposed to tell Sirius.
Not… show him.
But aren’t all affairs illicit by definition? Aren’t they all made to be crumbled and die, destined for one ending - unifying them all, bringing them all to one place.
Affairs can start anywhere.
They can start between a man and a book he can’t possibly afford to buy but stares longfully at in the display window of a bookshop. They can start between people on opposite sides of a cause, each torn apart by their beliefs, forever wondering what is stronger - the will to love, or the will to be right. They can start between people who speak different languages, unable to communicate but so desperately wanting to speak - wait for me, I’ll learn a universe for you . They can start anywhere, at any given time, between words or between buildings, between men and women and between flushed boarding school boys. They are indifferent to passage of time yet are so cruelly welded by it: anyone who has ever had an affair will tell you the truth the Regulus knew so deeply now: there is nothing more powerful than what is illicit and nothing more crucial than what can’t be helped.
At the beginning of the affair, we are all binded by one truth: The belief that we can stop whenever we want to.
Then, comes flush. Not always embarrassing, for a flush can mean many different things: delight as well as sheepishness, craving as well as shame. Flush, too, is illicit, for we are taught not to wear our emotions on our faces.
After flush, we guide ourselves. We ask ourselves: how does one truly have an illicit affair? We tell ourselves we aren’t in love, not in the way everybody talks about love. An affair is not a love shared by two solemn beings: sometimes, it is sex, and mostly it is pain, and it is jealousy, and above all: longing.
There are consequences looming over the discovery of every affair there is, will be, and has been since the dawn of time. Consequences make things illicit, but also make us exhale in relief and relish in the moments we are sure we have escaped them.
That’s the last part.
Of most affairs, at least.
An exhale of relief.
What was illicit is now solemn - perhaps not accepted by all, but nonetheless a truth as any other, not just shared between two beings but between them and the space around them.
Affairs can end in many ways: The man at the bookstore may reach the counter, hand the book over to the bookkeeper with a shaking hand and try to fish for money in his pocket. Maybe it’s his lucky day - perhaps there is a galleon in his pocket he just happened to have left there, or perhaps the bookkeeper will overlook a few nickels and give this man his dream: To no longer be illicit, no longer be in the pain given to us in the land of unknowing.
Affairs are never up to chance.
They are calculated. Not always by those participating in them, dancing with fate until they drop back down to earth.
Sometimes, they are even written in the stars.
“Are you-” Sirius started, his finger rising to both of them, dwindling in the air between them as if trying to establish a connection. He wore an unreadable expression in his eyes, almost as if a tale was unfolding right in front of him.
“Yes,” James said. His face seemed to soften. “I love him, Sirius.”
“Well, I know that ,” he huffed.
What?
“What? You know ?” James burst, his face losing its horrified expression in favor of a surprised one.
“Of course. I’m not an idiot.”
“You- What? How ?”
“It’s kind of obvious. You’ve been in love with him for years.”
“I’m- Yeah. Yes. Sorry.”
Regulus stuck him an elbow in his rib and Sirius smirked and lowered his head, as if trying to give them privacy.
“So you’ve known this whole time?” Remus said, almost equally surprised.
“About James, yes, but-”
“Did you know about me?” Regulus cut, his eyebrows furrowed and his face graced with confusion. He sounded smaller than he intended to, for the question was also - could you see me? as well as it was did I hide it good enough?
“Regulus,” Sirius said, his voice turning softer, as if Regulus is a kid who needs to be spoken to with gentleness and not with ease. But I’m not a kid anymore, he thought. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? ”
“I mean, I wasn’t sure. I thought, sometimes, when I saw the way you looked at him. But it hurt to think about it, so I tried not to.”
“Because I stole him from you?” Regulus guessed with a gloomy, mad, confused expression. He couldn’t keep up with every emotion to pass his face and mind since he woke up.
“No, Regulus. Because he had you and I didn’t,” Sirius said simply.
“Sirius,” James got up from his place on the bed with a pained expression. Regulus stayed where he was, his face glued to Sirius’ gaze. Looking at Sirius used to feel like staring into the mirror of erised, craving to become one with him. Craving for Sirius to hate him, and understand him, and cradle him, and treat him as an equal.
Sirius didn’t look at James as he did Regulus.
There was nothing painful in the way he gazed at him. It was soft and adoring, peaceful as if he never knew of war and gore in his life. Regulus had always been jealous of that, even if now Sirius looked at him softer than he ever had since they were kids. The thing about the Blacks was they always wore their hearts inside of their eyes.
That’s why Regulus was so jealous. Why sometimes that jealousy ate him from inside, picked at him and reared its ugly head in the moments he wanted his brother most. Because he wasn’t Sirius’ brother in the way James was - and there was no doubt to anyone who has ever met the two that he was.
He was sure before, and is even more sure of it now, that this isn’t the only version of them that there was. It can’t be. This one is far too graceful, far too absolute, and what use was there for Regulus, obsolete in their own special universe?
James reigned the world as the sun during the day, and Sirius reigned as the brightest star in the night sky. The world turned and it turned, and there would always be both of them in it, and Regulus is but a man gazing upon the sky. Only the brightest in his own constellation, dying slowly from turning too fast, only meeting the sun on the one day celestial circumstances allow him to.
So, sometimes Sirius looked at Regulus with pain. He wasn’t always sure why. Sirius did love him - that much he knew, though the idea made him uncomfortable and at the same time delighted beyond explanation, because that’s all he ever really wanted to be.
His little brother.
Loved by him.
“Regulus, I’m not mad. I don’t hate you. I know that that’s what you’re thinking.”
“It’s not.”
“Come on. Je te connais,” he resorted to their mother’s tongue. He always did so when he tried to show Regulus he was being sincere.
“But how? I took him from you, didn’t I?” he whispered, forgetting that there was anyone else in the room with them.
“James loves you. I see it every day, in the way he stares at you when he thinks no one is looking and in the way he’s been happier these past few months than he had been in ages. And though I wasn’t entirely sure until just now, you love him too, or you wouldn’t have taken it this far,” he is softer with every word, calmer than Regulus had ever seen him. “And though I was caught off guard here, and I never, ever want to see you two naked on a bed again - and I assure you the sight of this,” he dwindled his finger between them again, “Will haunt me for the rest of my days, I’m fine with it.”
“You’re… okay with it? With us?”
“James isn’t mine, Regulus. Well, he is, in a way - because he’s my best friend and I’m his, but who he loves is his own. I don’t get to decide that. He’s as yours as he is mine. Not in the same way, obviously, because I don’t share your urge to attack his neck like a fucking shark, but he’s happy with you.”
“I am,” James assured, quick, bowing out of the conversation and sending Remus a nervous smile.
“Tu l'aimes, James?” Sirius smiled at him, secretly.
“Tout le monde aime lui,” Regulus replied, softly, a bit too desperate.
“Je crois qu’il t’adore bien aussi. Plus que tu ne le penses.”
Regulus swallowed and lowered his head.
“Talking about me?” James smiled and stepped a little closer to Regulus, careful, still too aware of how important this moment was.
“You can touch him, James,” Sirius rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like you need permission. You can go within five feet of your boyfriend in my presence. Shit, you’ve had the talk, or whatever, right?”
“Yes. We’ve had it.”
“So, together?” Sirius quirked a smile at James.
“Together,” he affirmed, his smile slowly rising to his lips.
Sirius’ face turned firm but his eyes carried a smile.
“Hurt him and I’ll shove that broomstick you love so much up your arse.”
“Blimey, okay. I won’t,” James raised his hands to surrender.
“Good. And put some clothes on, for godric’s sake.”
“That’s it? What about Regulus? What if he hurts me?”
“I hardly think you’re a delicate flower. You’ll deal,” Sirius huffed.
“Oi!”
Sirius winked at him. He leaned back with a smile, standing next to Remus. He was silent for a moment, as Regulus and James were, and he was looking at them - not staring - but curious, as if he was seeing them for the first time. His head tilted to the side with a slight nod, as if he was approving, not to them - but to himself. As if he had seen them as they are, looked at them one next to the other and knew that they fit.
“Regulus,” he said after a few moments.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t sit across the hall anymore at meals, you know? Sit with us.”
Regulus gave him a surprised yet slight look.
“You want me to sit with you?”
“You can bring your friends, if you want.”
Not because you don’t want it to be awkward, but because you want me to know them, is what Sirius doesn’t say.
“I will,” he answered, a finality in his voice.
Sirius took a few steps to the door and without the slightest bit of grace, slammed it open and said, “Coming?”
The hall isn’t as crowded as it usually is, most of the older students hungover in their beds from the ball. Some were still in last night’s clothing.
When Regulus passed the entry to the great hall, he stopped for a moment, just to take it all in. He was standing between the tables he’d known since he was eleven. There was Gryffindor, then Hufflepuff, then Ravenclaw and Slytherin. On one end were his friends at the Slytherin table, waving at him and giving him odd, curious looks as to the reason he was standing with Sirius and James in the middle of the hall.
Pandora smiled at him and got up from her seat without a thought. Some of the people around her gave her a look, but she didn’t seem to care in the slightest - so, did you do it? her eyes asked.
Regulus waited a minute to look at James who stood near him, almost oblivious but smiling to him when he caught Regulus’ eye. His hand slipped, almost secretly but not so anymore, and Regulus stared at it for a moment. His hand clenched around it. He raised his head to look at Pandora and tilted his head, you could say that.
A smile broke into her face with a glee that could knock out the entire table. She rushed their friends with a smack on their back when needed (case in point, a very hungover looking Barty) and ran to him.
“Calm down,” he laughed as she slammed into him with a hug.
“Shut up,” she held tighter. “So?”
She is quiet and no one else can hear them, maybe James if he was trying hard, but Regulus doubted it.
He nodded.
“I’m proud of you, you know.”
“Come on,” he said, sheepishly.
“I am.”
“Wait,” Barty said, “You’re-”
“Shit.”
“Bring it. Come on, baby.”
“I hate you so much,” Evan said and shoved a galleon to a smirking Barty’s pocket.
“You bet on my love life?” Regulus asked with an exasperated sigh, “Again?”
Next to him James choked a laugh, and when receiving a pointed look from Regulus tried, quite miserably, to disguise it with a cough.
“Classy,” Dorcas patted his back with a smirk. “Care to explain why we’re all standing here like idiots?”
“James and Regulus are together,” Pandora informed her.
“So? We knew that. Congrats, by the way,” she turned to Regulus with her cheery, half sarcastic but now genuine smile, “On not being repressed and miserable and all.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, and Sirius knows. Cat’s out,” Pandora said.
James nodded and drew himself a bit closer, his breath steady next to Regulus and his hand still firmly in place.
“I thought we could all go have breakfast there. With him,” Regulus added.
“In the lion’s den? Sure.”
“You don’t have to call it that every time.”
“I do, actually. It’s a very fundamental part of my life.”
Regulus snorted.
“Hey, I’m happy for you. You seem… lighter, somehow. I don’t know how to explain it. That’s good.”
“Can we all go there already? I get that this is a moment and all, but I’m hungry and we all look like idiots,” Dorcas cut, sharp as ever.
The table was too full this morning for all of them to fit perfectly. They all shoved slightly, James and Regulus next to each other, Remus next to James and Sirius right across. Dorcas, Lily and Mary sat next to Sirius, Pandora comfortably next to Regulus and Evan and Barty across from each other.
It was weird.
Of course it was at first.
Not everything could fit solemnly into place and be fixed. Human relationships aren’t like magic. They bend and they twist, they heal and break together, they fall apart and take time to understand. Magic is in their veins, but understanding and forgiveness is not always given to some as it is to others. It takes work, courage and cunningness. You cannot simply flap a wand and make it work. Sometimes, it takes bowing in another’s temple to understand.
Forgiveness cannot be welded.
It can take time.
To Sirius, Regulus imagined, it was at least odd or uncomfortable to see his little brother with his friends. The way they fit so seamlessly together, the way they had their own language and their quirks. They way Barty passed Regulus the pumpkin juice when Sirius passed him the apple juice, not knowing Regulus hasn’t liked it since he was twelve.
The way sometimes, when Regulus talked to Barty or even Pandora, an odd look came across Sirius’ face. It passed almost in an instant, and no one else could notice it but him. It was a look of longing as it was of jealousy, all mixed together. It was - they know you and I don’t really, not anymore . It was confusion, because Regulus grew up. He wasn’t eleven anymore. He didn’t need Sirius to be there all the time. But he wanted him to be there.
It was the understanding that Regulus will get older. Someday, he will be so far from eleven, from the moment the hat dropped on his forehead and yelled, Slytherin! will be so hazy, so vague that he won’t be able to recall it clearly. Regulus will grow up. He’ll have a home to call his own. He’ll find peace.
To Regulus, that knowledge became apparent only recently. A few months ago, when James Potter found his way into the astronomy tower. It became so clear to him, as the thought passed and he leaned in to kiss him: there is life after war. There is life after abuse, and agony, and pain. There is life before there is death. Death isn’t what we look forward to in life, neither is it the thing we fear of. It is a part of it. Same as youth, and love and gore, same as the way James Potter’s glasses tilt down when he is being kissed. That’s life.
And for once, he’s really fucking glad to be alive.
Not just for the sake of not being dead, but to live.
“You knew? How?” James said to Peter.
“You’re not very subtle.”
“I’m so subtle. No one else knew.”
Remus and Sirius exchanged looks and swallowed their smiles.
“Sure, buddy. Anyone with a pair of decent eyes could see it on your face. Was Sirius surprised?” Peter swallowed a big bite of his toast and gestured to James. “Were you surprised?” He then turned to Sirius.
“No.”
“See?” Peter turned back with a faux vindictive smile.
“How’d it happen?”
“Remember when you walked in on-”
“Yes,” Peter cut with a sharpness to his voice. “Oh, no.”
“Hmm,” Sirius hummed.
“Can’t any of you keep it in your pants?”
“Eh,” James said and pulled his shoulders.
“You so better keep it in your pants around my brother, James,” Sirius said and pointed his fork in James’ direction.
James snorted.
“Oh, you’re serious,” he said after a minute.
“My legal government name, yes.”
Remus rolled his eyes and Lily huffed a laugh.
“You’re ridiculous,” Regulus pointed.
“What is ridiculous about not watching my brother snog someone? I don’t care who it is.”
“James, baby, come on over here,” Regulus smiled and kept his gaze on Sirius.
“I’m right beside you,” he stated weakly.
“Oh, yeah. You are,” Regulus said and smiled as he pulled him into a kiss. More of a snog than a kiss, because he could hear Mary wheezing in the corner, and he could practically feel the heat from James’ cheeks.
“You’re vile,” Sirius stated with a look after Regulus pulled a flushed James away. He pulled his shoulders.
His face, though off at first, broke into a smile.
Not everything can be healed in an instant, but sometimes healing is easier than staying sick.
“Hey, Regulus,” James said right when breakfast ended and the empty dishes started vanishing.
“Yes?”
“I need to ask you something. And you really don’t have to, or anything. I just thought it would be nice, but if you don’t think it’s nice, we can just-”
“James. Stop. Say what you want to say,” he almost laughed.
He felt softer now. He always did in James’ presence.
James looked nervous.
“My parents invited us for Easter break,” he let out. “By us, I mean you and me. And Sirius, obviously. Because he lives there. But I want you to come. I want you to meet my parents, Regulus.”
Oh.
“Oh,” Regulus breathed, before he said, “Yeah, alright.”
The door to the Potter’s manor was a soft, wood brown, in almost direct contrast with the Black polished door which posed the entrance to Grimmauld. The outside of the house had a large garden, so large that Regulus almost couldn’t see all of it. It ended with a large, brick wall, probably acres and acres of land, and Regulus couldn’t help but imagine a younger James running around and rolling in the grass, wandering to the nearby forest and getting on a broom for the first time in the small quidditch pitch they had.
Was this your childhood? He wanted to ask, Were you really this happy?
Sirius came separately and was probably already inside. Regulus wasn’t entirely sure. Mrs. Potter was going to pick them up from the train station but James said they’d just meet her back at the house. Regulus, of course, was eternally grateful. He assumed James noticed how nervous he was.
James stood there next to him without knocking.
“They really aren’t that scary. Dad’s a giant nerd, really, and Mum- well, you’ll see. They love you already, I promise,” he smiled.
“Sorry I’m like this. You probably want to come in and see your parents, and I’m just-”
“No,” James cut in, “We’ll come in when you’re ready. I know this is hard for you, and that’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“You’re perfect. It’s annoying.”
James laughed.
The sun glistened his face and made him seem light, almost angelic.
“I’m ready to come in now,” he mumbled.
James smiled again, soft, and took his hand.
With his other, he knocked.
The door opened almost instantly.
“James! You’re here,” his mum smiled so brightly, a smile he recognized, and hugged her son tightly.
“I’ve missed you too, mum,” he laughed and held her just as tight.
She let go after a few moments, only to look at him, as if to observe. Not to judge or critique, not leering with a look he knew well, but with something new to him. She smiled at him as she smiled at her son.
“Regulus, honey, we’re so glad to have you here.”
She was a soft, yet clearly very fierce woman. She had a brightness in her eyes and a sharpness to her features, her brown hair, James’ hair, and her dark brown eyes were almost too familiar to him. He was standing, looking at her with a reserved, yet curious smile, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Potter. Thank you for having me.”
“Oh, call me Effie. Everyone does. Now come in, your dad is being sorely beaten in chess by Sirius.”
Regulus swallowed and followed James inside the door.
The manor was as big on the inside as it looked on the outside.
It was nothing like the other pureblood houses he knew. They were usually designed as if they were palaces, every inch flooded with the same reminder, as if he didn’t already know which house he walked into. Every one of those houses would scream at him if they could, chant the same chorus he already knew all too well - you don’t belong here. Not anymore.
Dynasties are all alike, but every family is a family in its own way.
And this was a family.
The house was full of warm, vibrant colors. It had a small casket of prayer books in the living room they walked into, pictures of them, some even with Sirius. A five year old James was waving at him with a big smile.
It wasn’t a manor.
It wasn’t a house.
It was a home.
“Knight to E4.”
“Come on, son. You’re killing me here.”
“Your fault for agreeing to play with me.”
“It always is.”
Sirius and Mr. Potter’s muffled voices sounded as they walked in.
“Dad!”
“Oh, they’re here!” Mr. Potter immediately got up with a smile as he went to greet them.
“Regulus,” he addressed first, “Nice to meet you. I’m Monty.”
He went to shake his hand and Regulus only stared for a second before he shook it.
“It’s nice to be here.”
Monty didn’t say anything more, but he did smile. He looked like an older, scruffier version of James in the best way possible, his reading glasses tilting on his nose, his hair a dark brown almost completely taken over with gray by now, and his eyes were as his son’s. A gold necklace hid behind his dress shirt. The Star of David .
“I’m invisible to you, aren’t I?” James said.
“I see you all the time. You’re nothing special,” Monty snickered.
“I’ve missed you, dad,” he hugged him and was immediately greeted with the embrace of his father’s arms.
Regulus immediately looked at Sirius with an odd, confused look on his face. Sirius understood what he was asking, and nodded with a tired smile. Yes, they really are like this. Yes, these families exist. Yes, they want you here. No, they’re not lying when they say they want you here.
Regulus stayed silent and lowered his gaze to the floor, trying to get used to it. He was nervous, but not in the way he always was in his own house. He wanted them to like him. Quite desperately, actually. He hoped they didn’t notice.
“Regulus, are you feeling alright?” James mumbled next to him as Monty got distracted by something Effie said.
Regulus nodded and looked up to him.
“I promise they love you already.”
Their house elf walked in right before Regulus got the chance to say anything and said dinner was ready. And with that, they went to the dining room.
“So, Regulus, I hear you like potions quite a bit,” Monty said as he passed him the butter.
“Yes, very,” he swallowed with a polite smile.
“I’m a potioneer myself. I’d love to show you around the lab, if you want?”
“I’d love that. Thank you, Mr. Potter.”
Monty smiled but didn’t correct him. He only took a quick glance at Sirius and continued to talk to him.
“We could set one up in your room, if you’d like.”
“Sorry?” Regulus choked.
“Your room- didn’t James talk to you about that?”
“About what?” James turned from his heated discussion with Sirius. Something about quidditch. “OH! Yes, sorry. I wanted to tell him, I forgot.”
“It’s alright, just nearly scared the poor boy half to death,” Monty smiled.
“Regulus,” Effie started, “We know about what happened a few months ago.”
Oh, no, I’m not a-
But she continued.
“And we want you to know you have a place here. Always will, whether you want it or not. There has been a room upstairs for you since Sirius came here for the first time and told us about his little brother. Sorry to spring it on you like this, we’d thought James already talked to you about it, but there’s no harm done. We just wanted to say you have a place to call home here.”
“Oh, I’m- Thank you,” he choked up.
“Think about it, only if you want. We don’t have to talk about that right now.”
Regulus nodded.
“So, I hear you also play quidditch?”
“Yes, I’m a seeker,” he smiled, grateful for the change in topic.
“So was I, back in my days…”
After the dishes were cleared, half by Mimi and half by James and Sirius, who asked Regulus to join them if he’d like, but he was so soaked in a conversation with Monty he barely looked up when he declined. Apparently, all of the Potters had a talent of making him feel comfortable almost in a heartbeat.
Monty mentioned his office, and Regulus said he’d love to see it. So Monty got up, said they’d be back and showed Regulus the way there.
The office had a small brewing station - not like the lab they had in the basement, that Monty promised to show him tomorrow, shelves on shelves of books. Some about potions, some history, some muggle literature, some in Hebrew and in Latin. The desk had a few pictures of his family, some of Sirius and James, smiling and dirty from playing quidditch, and some of his wedding day. One picture frame was empty, but laid next to the others.
Small oil lamps were scattered all around the room, making the office comfortable and relaxing. The books weren’t organized in a specific order, as far as Regulus could tell. Some were not even on shelves, probably the ones he was currently reading, opened or with bookmarks sticking out of them.
A couch was under a few picture frames that hung on the wall, and Monty gestured to him to sit.
Regulus wasn’t as nervous as he would have been a few hours ago when he walked in the door.
“You’re good for my son, Regulus.”
It was bolder than anything Regulus had anticipated.
“He’s even better to me.”
“I’m sure he feels the same about you, which flatters you both.”
Regulus then wondered if Monty knew. He assumed he did. He had that look on his face.
“You have something, Regulus. It’s good, I hope you know that.”
“I do,” he said.
“My son is more like Effie than he is like me. He is fierce, he is strong and he is almost delicate at the same time. I love him very dearly. And he clearly loves you very much.”
“I know.”
“Have I spoken out of turn?” Monty asked.
Regulus shook his head.
“I’m just not really sure what to do here,” Regulus admitted.
“Let me say just one more thing. It will clear the air.”
Regulus nodded and Monty smiled at him fondly.
“How you live your life is your business. No one else’s. You’ll always have a place with us, regardless of your relationship with my son. Either one of them. We’ll always want you here, no matter what. You have a room up there, if you want it. You always had. You’re a bright, young man and you have a great life ahead of you, just waiting for you to live it.”
“I love him,” Regulus said, suddenly. He never thought he’d say it to anyone other than James.
“I know.”
They shared a silence for a few minutes before Regulus said, “Thank you, Monty.”
Monty didn’t say anything, just looked at him and knew what he had decided at that moment.
Regulus wanted to ask him how he knew. But how could he have not known? How could anyone not have known?
“Goodnight, Regulus,” he picked up the book next to him, the title of it muffled in a language Regulus didn’t know yet.
“Goodnight.”
Regulus’ room was nothing he expected it to be. When they said he had a room here, he expected a plain guest room, perhaps full of dust from hardly being opened, maybe a few paintings on the wall.
This was not the sight before him.
The walls were a dark green. A few posters of his favorite teams on the wall above the bed, a record player with a few dozens of vinyls, classical music as well as some of the stuff Sirius liked in there. Some candles on the table, along with a few picture frames - empty, as if they were waiting for him to define who he wanted to see in them - some fountain pens, the muggle kind he liked writing with and paper, an oil lamp and, of course, books.
On the shelf above the table and on above the bed, the wall opposite to the bed was covered with shelves. Stacked shelves, as well - Oscar Wilde and Emily Bronte, Walt Witman and Wordsworth, Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy, Gogol and Woolf, books upon books, some that he’s read and some he’d never heard of. But they were there. They were his.
The door opened slightly and Regulus turned around. Sirius walked in the room.
“Nice, right?”
“Yeah,” was all Regulus could muster.
“I told them about the books, you know. James, as well. He pulled most of this off.”
“I guessed so.”
“I just wanted to see if you were alright. It looked like a bit of a shock to you at first, and I know the feeling.”
“I’m fine. It’s just…”
“Hard to believe they’re really like this?”
“Fuck, yeah,” Regulus sat on the bed with Sirius standing across from him.
Sirius laughed, “They are, I promise.”
“Sirius?” Regulus looked at him.
“Yes?”
Regulus waited and breathed for a moment.
“I love you. I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” he sat next to him.
“Not saying it when it mattered.”
“Monty gave you the talk, huh?” Sirius smiled.
“I take it back. I hate you.”
Sirius laughed.
I love you, too , his eyes say as he does.
Regulus knocked on James’ door.
He opened it almost immediately. As if he’d been waiting.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Are you alright?” James made sure.
“I’m okay. I like your dad.”
“Oh, what did he say now?” James groaned.
“Nothing. Just that you’re in love with me and I’m in love with you and all that. It was fine. Promise.”
“Good.”
“Your parents are amazing.”
“I know,” James broke into a smile. “They love you.”
“Monty said,” Regulus took a step closer.
“Did you see your room?” James asked.
“I did. I can’t believe you did all of that for me.”
“I’d do anything for you, you know that.”
“Except invite me in, apparently.”
“Oh! Sorry. Do you want to come in?” James took a step backwards and opened the way.
“Yes.”
They stayed there for a few days before they had to go back to school. Right before they went on the train, escorted by Effie and Monty, Regulus became aware of how much he didn’t want to leave.
“Goodbye, Regulus,” Effie hugged him tightly before he went on the train, two minutes before eleven. James and Sirius were already by the door after having said their goodbyes, waiting for him to join them.
“I’ll come for summer break, if that’s alright,” he said.
“Of course it is. Write if you want, we’ll miss not having you around,” she smiled fondly and pulled away from him.
He nodded and gave Monty a hug before he joined Sirius and James.
Their figures became smaller and smaller as the train made its way to Hogwarts. It took about a minute for them to disappear from his sight completely.
When they get back, they’re almost late for dinner.
As he always did, Regulus lifted his gaze to meet James’ eyes in the table furthest from him, only to find him right across the table from him.
James smiled.
When you know, you know.