the view between villages

regulus

”it’s just a tattoo,” sirius whines. regulus is annoyed. sirius has been trying to convince him to get a tattoo for several hours now. apparently, it’s a remedy in itself, a form of self harm that isn’t so destructive. not as destructive as literal torture, obviously. he’s still embarrassed about that, by the way. it was a slip in judgement and a severe flaw in character. thinking about it brings him great shame, so he simply doesn’t think about it. 

“yeah, a tattoo that’ll be on my skin forever,” regulus drawls. he knows sirius has plenty, all limited to his torso and thighs, easily hidden by a plain tee shirt and a pair of trousers. they’re all ridiculous, though. what exactly is the point of getting a name branded on your skin for a lifetime? regulus will never understand it. 

“i don’t have any finger tattoos yet and i want a matching tattoo with you. please?” sirius asks. he’s wearing his best puppy dog eyes, it seems, even though he looks ugly and ridiculous. his bottom lip is jutted out so far reg is scared it’ll turn inside out and his eyes are threatening to pop out of his skull with how wide he’s made them. he looks genuinely ugly. 

“fine,” regulus relents. he tells himself it’s just to wipe that stupid look off his brother’s face, but as sirius does a silly happy dance around the living room to the muggle music playing from a record player he brought, he admits it’s regrettably for the pure joy splitting his face in two. 

“it’s just a little star, okay? that’s all,” sirius reassures for the millionth time. they’re stood outside a tattoo parlor, hand in hand, identically jittery for opposite reasons. sirius is so excited he’s practically vibrating. regulus is so nervous he feels like his stomach his going to crawl out through his mouth. 

they file into the parlor together, shoulders and elbows knocking as they both struggle to fit through the narrow doorway. regulus hates physical contact but he’ll be damned if he lets go of sirius right now. the palm against his is the only thing keeping him sane. he lets sirius do all the talking. it’s not like he can speak around the cotton under his tongue, anyways. 

soon enough, regulus is in an uncomfortable leather chair. there’s a man leaning over him, a tattoo gun in his hand, and a plethora of ink spotting his skin. buzzing fills the air. regulus sucks in a breath. his muscles are tight. oh. it’s not that bad. it’s actually quite pleasant. the needles in his skin are nothing compared to the glass floor he created a week before, even if they feel like they’re piercing his fingers. 

ten minutes later, probably the most freeing ten minutes of his life, he’s got a brand new star inked on his left ring finger. it sits on the final bone before his knuckle, clearly drawn by sirius in a haste. it’s uneven, there are lines crossing in the middle, and it’s beautiful. impossibly beautiful for something doodled in less than a second. regulus finds himself fond of it. 

“that wasn’t that bad,” he admits as they step out into summer air. heat caresses the exposed skin of his arms and calves. sirius had convinced him that morning to finally trade in the loose jumpers and formal trousers for a tee shirt and a pair of dress shorts. his favorite sneakers still hug his ankles, a pair of shoes that sirius calls ‘high tops’ but regulus bought as ‘converse all stars.’ they’re green with white toes and soles and he’s surprisingly fond of them. sirius has a matching pair in white, though he much prefers the chunky black boots currently on his feet. 

“i told you. it’s like free therapy,” sirius gushes. he’s swinging their interlocked hands together, irritatingly chipper as they walk the streets of muggle london. “next up is shoe shopping and a haircut, right?” 

“we should probably eat, too,” regulus contributes. he finds that the more often they do these outings together, the easier it is for him to open up. he’s still reserved and still keeps a multitude of details to himself, but it’s growing easier. conversation flows a lot easier now. 

“only if we can eat at a spanish restaurant. i’ve been needing spanish food in my life lately.” sirius doesn’t have to say it. regulus can hear it hanging in the space between them. “i’ve been needing euphemia potter’s cooking in my life.” regulus knows that euphemia potter was a mother to sirius when walburga was not. he knows that james’ family became sirius’ family the second his portrait was scuffed from the family tree. 

“do they have soda there? i think that’s what they’re called. dora and cas swear by it,” regulus speaks thoughtfully. his interest has been piqued toward muggle foods and beverages as of late, ever since dorcas filled his home with instant noodles she called ‘ramen.’ 

“you’ve never had a soda?” sirius gasps. what is it with everyone and their offense over soda? it’s not the end of the world, seriously. 

“no. i don’t get out much, in case you haven’t gathered.” sirius hums as he tugs them in the direction of a restaurant called la mesa in the city center. it’s small, decorated with authentic spanish pieces, and the inside is lit with gentle orange fluorescents. the place is quiet overall, hardly any people inside despite its location, and it strikes regulus that james must’ve introduced sirius to this place. it’s small, unpopular, somewhere only people who love the native food would know. 

“well, this place has the best coke on the planet. they’ve also got really good albondigas,” sirius explains. a woman approaches the stand in the front of the restaurant and greets sirius in rapid spanish. to regulus’ surprise, sirius responds easily in nearly-fluent spanish, though his posh english accent is clear in the curl of his words. he waves regulus along behind him, and they follow the woman through the cozy building.

“i didn’t know you speak spanish,” regulus speaks dumbly. if he’s honest, he’s in shock. since when did his brother know anything other than french and english? it makes absolutely no sense. 

“yeah, well, james and his mum used to speak exclusively spanish around the house. i had to learn to keep up,” sirius says, like it’s nothing, like regulus isn’t shellshocked. though, he guesses it makes sense, because james is very obviously proud of his heritage. the potter cottage is covered in photos of spain’s beaches and decor hinting at cultural superstitions. there are also a few other oriental additions to the house, some welsh and some originating from a country regulus isn’t all that familiar with. somewhere in south asia, if he has to guess. 

“what about fleamont? he had a different accent,” regulus inquires. he recalls the different twist of his words, the odd melody to his accent that starkly contrasted euphemia’s. he’d only had the pleasure of meeting them twice, both times due to a quidditch accident james suffered in hogwarts, but they’re core memories that he remembers down to the clothes he was wearing. 

“ah, that would be the punjabi. monty was desi. he moved here from northern india when he was around ten or so. he wasn’t as pushy about culture as effie was, so james doesn’t know much punjabi. a true shame, honestly,” sirius elaborates. regulus is struck yet again with surprise. he’s spent years assuming both james’ parents were from spain, and he’s mortified. he’s a right arse, isn’t he? is it racist to assume like that? he solemnly hopes not. 

“i had no clue,” he mumbles. sirius orders two of his favorite thing off the menu, chatting in spanish with the waitress serving them, and silence takes over the table. regulus is more than comfortable with the quiet. he much prefers it to talking, especially with plans later that night. thankfully, sirius keeps his mouth shut for the entirety of their lunch. 

in fact, he hardly speaks for the rest of the day. they buy matching shoes, black boots with yellow laces that sirius calls ‘doc martens,’ and matching outfits, simple blue cotton jumpers and black jeans with precut holes in the legs. if regulus is being honest, he doesn’t understand the aesthetic appeal in ripped trousers, but sirius seems to love them enough for the both of them. they finish the day with similar haircuts, shaggy cuts that seem to accentuate their identical curls. regulus is quite pleased with the way he looks by the end of the day. 

sirius is drawing on his eyes with a pencil later that night. they’re both freshly showered, having taken advantage of the two bathrooms in regulus’ ridiculously huge house, and their freshly shaped curls are drying as they ready themselves for the party at marlene and dorcas’. it’s supposedly going to be a throwback to hogwarts parties, with veritaserum shots and muggle alcohol. regulus hates to admit that he’s anxious, but he is. he can’t seem to keep still as sirius smudges black makeup around his eyes. he can see it on sirius and he quite likes the way it accentuates his steely eyes. 

“is it alright if moony meets us here?” sirius asks in a mumble. for once, his hyperactivity seems to have calmed, though reg guesses he’s preparing for the dramatic show he’s sure to put on. 

“yeah. i’m assuming you’ve already told him anyways,” regulus responds. and that’s that. there’s no more talking, no more conversation. it’s just two brothers steeling themselves for their first night out together. regulus had been lucky enough to skip out on the last party due to revolving babysitting duty, but tonight pandora volunteered so he has no excuse. 

“we’re still switching, right?” sirius asks once they’ve finished getting ready. they’re wearing the same cologne, scrubbed with the same body wash and shampoo. regulus is actually quite excited. is he excited for the public display of affection he’ll have to perform with remus? no. but he’s excited to reenact one of the oldest black brother traditions. 

“you don’t think remus will be mad that he’s kissing his future brother-in-law?” regulus muses. that’s the bit he’s most nervous about. sirius had warned him earlier that pda was a requirement if they wanted to pull this off, which meant aggressively making out with remus after a few shots. remus is unpredictable, though. he’s a possessive motherfucker with a bit of a mean streak, not unlike regulus, so there’s no telling what’ll happen when they’re eventually found out. 

“moons appreciates a good prank. besides, i’m sure he’ll be too drunk to worry too much. remember to toss your veritaserum or it’ll all be for nothing.” regulus nods, takes a deep breath. he reaches out to tangle his fingers with sirius’. the physical affection isn’t so unwelcome nowadays. he’s slowly healing from the trauma of his run-in with the inferi, and his skin crawls a little less with every simple touch of hands. it’s too similar to their childhood for his mind to twist it. it’s too fond a memory. 

“remember to be the bitchiest version of yourself. think walburga black with a better personality.” sirius rolls his eyes at this, which prompts regulus to chuckle. he’s not all that familiar with the art of laughing yet, but in order to truly channel his inner sirius, he’s got to let go of the stick up his ass. “just like that, yeah.” 

“i’ll make sure to insult you every chance i get, don’t worry.” 

their banter is interrupted by remus entering through the floo. regulus shoots his brother a look, takes a deep breath, and lets their hands fall. he plasters the broadest smile he can manage on his face, which is really fucking uncomfortable mind you. 

“hi moons,” he greets. he’s quick to drop sirius’ hand and practically skip to remus’ side, which is also really fucking uncomfortable. how is sirius this flippant all the time? 

“hi, pads. you look… yeah, no, i’m not even going to lie. you look like your brother,” remus responds with a punctuating chuckle. he leans down to press a swift kiss to regulus’ lips, which regulus swiftly returns, even though he feels like vomiting on the spot. 

“but i’m the better brother, right?” he asks, batting his eyelashes at remus. he does not like the way remus’ brown eyes darken as he soaks in regulus’ tight outfit, but he can live with it for one night, surely. 

“always.” the word is practically a growl as his waist is encompassed entirely by remus’ big hands. he’s not going to lie. remus is really fucking hot, but he’s sirius’ and this feels so, so wrong. 

“let’s get a move on. i’d appreciate it if we could make it to our destination before you decide to shag on my couch,” sirius deadpans. regulus has to hand it to him. sirius does a really good impression of him. so good he would believe it if it weren’t for the fact that he knows he is himself. 

“right, okay,” remus mumbles. he makes the first move towards the fireplace. he disappears with nothing more than a wink and regulus spends the next five seconds gagging dramatically. sirius is a cackling mess for those entire five seconds, though he steadies himself swiftly and climbs through the green fireplace. regulus follows directly after, mentally preparing for a night of theatrics and provocative dancing. 

surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly because he knows he’s a damn good actor, the initial hellos go without a hitch. he’s a nervous wreck the entire time, but with the casual way he prods at remus’ sides, not a single person seems to question him. not even remus, which is honestly a shock, because he’s not the best kisser. he’s just thankful at this point that they had pregamed with a shot or two to excuse his lack of experience. 

“oh my god, i love this song!” regulus shouts in his best sirius voice. he knows this song well, seeing as sirius plays it every time he comes over. he’s drawn onto a tabletop with james within seconds, marlene clumsily stumbling onto it with them. queen’s unmistakeable voice filters through the living room. he’s seen sirius perform this song with them once at hogwarts, so he has a pretty good idea of how the performance will go. 

he channels his inner sirius and his inner freddie mercury, and he’s honestly impressed he hasn’t been knocked off the table by now. marlene is uncomfortably jabbing him in the ribs and james has accidentally smacked the top of his head and there’s a surprising amount of alcohol bubbling in his system. 

“you haven’t lost it, pads!” he shouts over the next song beginning. he’s honestly surprised at how much fun he’s having. that is, until remus greets him with a heated kiss the moment he hops off the table. it’s tongue and teeth and regulus is having an increasingly hard time keeping up. 

“you’re so wasted,” remus chuckles against his lips. regulus has enough sense to laugh along, pretending to struggle kissing through his smile. he’s shocked he’s made it this far into the night, honestly. he spots sirius across the room nursing a glass of something he can’t name. he shoots sirius a wink that he gets in return. a silent approval. okay, he’s doing a good job. that’s a relief. 

“veritaserum!” dorcas cheers as she makes her way through the room. there aren’t many people at the party, only close friends and family, in regulus’ case. the music quiets a bit as each hand is filled with a vial of clear fluid. regulus uncorks it, holds it under his nose, and smiles giddily. across the way, sirius wrinkles his nose like he despises the smell, though there’s a twinkle in his eye that suggests he’s excited. this is the crucial part of the plan. by now, everyone’s drunk enough that the brothers tossing their potions goes unnoticed. 

“alright, regulus, since you’ve never been to a gryffindor rager before, i’ll explain how this works,” james begins explaining to sirius. sirius is wearing his best poker face as james explains the logistics of veritaserum truth or dare. regulus is no fool. he knows how gryffindor parties work. they were the talk of hogwarts, after all, and an absolute honor to be invited to. 

“alright, lily, you first,” marlene exclaims. she’s visibly giddy as she ties her blonde hair away from her smiling face. are all gryffindors ridiculously attractive? it’s honestly unfair. 

“okay, okay,” lily gushes. she looks around the room, contemplates the buzzing guests, and her eyes land on regulus. oh, no. he knew his turn was coming up, but first? “sirius, truth or dare?” 

“dare,” he answers without a pause. she contemplates for a moment, gazes over the circle. her eyes lock with james and a wicked grin overtakes her freckled lips. 

“i dare you to snog james.” regulus wants to vomit. seriously? is this a dig at the discourse between james and sirius? he can see the guarded irritation on sirius’ face, the scowl he hides behind the rim of his plastic cup. 

“seriously, red?” regulus finds himself whining. “you know i’m still cross with him!” 

“snog or shot,” james speaks through a grin. regulus pretends to think it over. well, he likes to think he’s pretending, but he’s actually not. should he take the shot? would sirius take the shot? he looks to his brother for help, receives a nod toward james, and makes his decision. 

“fine, prongs. get your hunky arse over here.” he hopes that’s something sirius would say. it doesn’t seem to faze anyone in the circle, so he’s assuming it’s accurate. james crowds in his space, grabs his face in two extremely warm hands, and plants a firm kiss to his lips. he wants to sigh into it. james is a really good kisser. and he’s warm, too. he finds himself lost in the touch of lips and tongue, almost gone to the feeling of being kissed by someone so unfairly warm. and then it’s torn from him, and he has to put the broad sirius smile on his face. james has an odd look in his eyes. has he caught on? he desperately hopes not. that would be mortifying. 

“moony!” he calls once james has sat. remus perks up, eyes shooting up to his hairline in anticipation. “truth or dare?” 

“dare,” remus responds immediately. regulus genuinely has to think this one over. what would sirius do? he doesn’t have to think for long, because sirius’ hand is in his and it catches his attention. he beckons for regulus to lean in, so he does. 

“dare him to take off his shirt. i’m about to use the bathroom. if anyone asks, i was letting you know where i’m going and that’s all,” sirius whispers. regulus nods, giving his best smile to his brother. sirius is crossing the room, towards the bathroom he knows is just down the hall. 

“sorry. reggie’s a little antisocial,” reg chuckles. he turns to remus, wiggles his eyebrows. remus seems to know what’s coming already. “i dare you to take of your shirt.” wolf whistles travel through the small circle of friends as remus apprehensively lifts his baby blue tee from his torso. alright, yeah. regulus can see the appeal. remus is covered in scars, long scratches stretching over tan skin and rippling muscles. 

“i’ll never get tired of seeing you shirtless,” regulus finally hums. he knocks his head against remus’ shoulder and trails a hand over his firm chest. remus is one hot motherfucker. how did sirius score this? 

truth or dare continues. at some point, sirius opts to take a shot rather than streak through the apartment building marlene lives in. regulus snogs a few more people, takes a few shots in place of dares, and he’s honestly surprised he’s still standing by the end of the night. dancing has resumed, music blaring through the apartment he’s got no doubt is charmed to silence, and his hips are swaying uncomfortably close to remus’. they’ve been making out for a while, idly swaying in the corner of the room as they swap spit. and yes, regulus did agree to this, but he’s still not the most excited for it. 

“oi! hands off!” he hears sirius shout. he winces. jesus fuck, their cover’s blown. he spots sirius, finally, scowling at a giggling lily potter. james is just behind her, hands on her hips to seemingly keep her stable. 

“sorry, regulus. she’s got no boundaries when she’s this smashed,” james explains apologetically. regulus shoots a worried glance at remus, then pries himself away to check out the situation. he slides his palm into sirius’ and molds into his side. 

“what’s wrong, reggie?” he asks. sirius is still scowling, arms crossed over his chest. 

“i’ve been groped.” the response is simply. it’s simply ridiculous, is what it is. regulus barks a laugh, shoulders shaking against sirius’. 

“hands to yourself, red! that’s my baby brother you’re defiling!” regulus can hardly speak through his laughter. he’s had way too much alcohol. he wants to leave. should he leave? should he grab sirius and make his departure? there’s no way he can go home with remus, or he’ll end up having to do a lot more than kiss him. 

“i want to go home,” sirius finally says, eyes reading the clear discomfort in regulus’ face. god, he could hug his brother. he won’t because he hates hugging, but he could. he nods along, tugs sirius through the house. remus is on his heels, taking his other hand. 

he could cry. he really could. his living room looks glamorous, albeit much too big for one person, after a night of partying. how does sirius manage? he’s exhausted and ready to sleep. 

“i’m so thankful to be back here,” he sighs. then he freezes. now their cover really is blown. remus has his arms around the real sirius the moment he’s climbed through the floo. 

“how’d you figure it out?” sirius sputters. regulus would also like to know this, actually. he’s sort of offended. is he not a good actor? no, that’s preposterous. he’s a phenomenal actor. 

“regulus is a horrible kisser. quick learner, i’ll admit, but i knew before we left for marlene’s.” alright, yeah, that makes sense. he’s embarrassed now. he knew he was a terrible kisser before, but now that it’s solid fact, he’s mortified. 

“if you knew the entire time, why go along with it?” sirius whines. regulus is much too tired for conversation. he hasn’t spoken since they entered his home, opting to watch the conversation from his favorite armchair rather than participate in it. he’s tired and he wants them gone, in all honesty. 

“i wanted to see how far the two of you were willing to go,” remus mumbles into the side of sirius’ neck. have regulus’ eyelids always been this droopy? he can hardly see through them. he must be truly beat, then. would they be offended if he fell asleep? probably. it’s tempting, though. 

sirius utters something he can’t quite make out through his sudden deliriousness. the room is spinning. this armchair is really comfortable. a little nap surely couldn’t hurt, right? how much alcohol did he even drink? a lot, apparently, because he’s asleep in seconds.