the view between villages

regulus

he should really learn to say no to sirius. he really should, because he does not like technology and he does not like muggle contraptions. they’re confusing. really, they’re confusing. he’s been staring at the bloody phone for fifteen minutes trying to figure out how to make it work. does he lift the handle before dialing the phone number, or does he dial and then lift? neither one seems to work. he gets a droning dial tone every time. at least, he thinks that’s what sirius called it. he didn’t know the house had muggle wiring, let alone enough muggle wiring to install a telephone. of course sirius would include muggle electricity when he commissioned the house to be built. 

the phone has been here for days, and he still hasn’t found out the sorcery behind it. it’s embarrassing. he used to be the top of the class, the top of the curve, a prime example of what a prodigy should be, and he can’t make a muggle telephone work. there are numbers scrawled on a scrap of parchment, secured to the wall via an adhesive spell. 

he won’t let a telephone get the best of him. he’ll make it work, even if he has to rip it apart and put it back together. he lifts the handle, dials seven numbers, waits for the ring. dial tone. he sets the handle back down. lifts it again. repeats the process three more times before it finally begins ringing the way it should’ve been all this time. he genuinely can’t tell what he did differently. 

“hello?” it’s remus who picks up the phone. regulus twirls the rubber wire around his index finger. his matching tattoo with sirius glares up at him. his heart is beating out of his chest. he still can’t act normally around remus after the black brother swap, not after having remus’ tongue down his throat and a morbid description of how terrible he is at snogging. embarrassing. 

“good to know the bloody thing works,” regulus responds. he sounds bitter, and he is, because the damned phone has given him nothing but problems since the phone company came to install it. 

“has it taken you this long to figure it out, regulus?” remus asks. reg wants to cut his tongue out. maybe then remus can’t tease him about his lack of savvy towards muggle inventions. whose idea was the telephone, anyways? a psychopath’s, he’s sure. 

“if you don’t learn to shut your mouth, i’ll send you to a tea party with tom riddle,” regulus deadpans. he hears remus chuckle, and he could genuinely see himself hexing lupin into an early grave. 

“you’re speaking boldly for someone who can’t snog to save his life.” curse remus lupin and his teasing. regulus has a knife in his house. several, actually, and remus is one handful of floo powder away. 

“you’re bold for a mortal man with a weakness to blood loss.” remus laughs again. regulus pictures a gravestone. six feet under. that’s where remus lupin belongs. no, he’s not smiling, and he’ll kill anyone who dares accuse him of it. 

“i’ve always been bold, baby black. your threats don’t scare me.” 

“i hope you die brutally. painfully. the worst death possible.” 

“you know you have a soft spot for me, regulus. i’m your first kiss, remember?” did he tell remus that? surely he hadn’t. right? 

“who told you?” someone is going to die. whoever let this slip, whoever revealed his deepest darkest secret, is going to die. brutally. slowly. he’s going to drag it out and he’s going to relish in it. 

“take a good, long look in the mirror, and thank drunk regulus for having a loose tongue.” fuck drunk regulus. not in the fun way. in a murderous way. 

“you’d know all about my tongue, wouldn’t you, lupin?” 

“i can’t say i do, no. even when you’re snogging the daylights out of your victims, you’re a prude.” 

“i am not a prude. i simply hate all people wholly and equally.” 

“i hate to be the bearer of bad news, dear reggie, but you’re a prude. i don’t think i’ve ever seen your collarbones. do you even have them?” 

“i have bloody collarbones lupin. that’s a ridiculous question.” 

“i’m just making sure. it’s hard to tell under all those turtle necks.” 

“i’ll end your bloodline.” 

“i’m dating a man. it’s already done and over with.” 

“fuck you.” 

“you wish.” 

regulus hangs up the phone violently. no, he’s not smiling. stop accusing him of it. he’s not smiling and he never will smile because of remus lupin. at least the forsaken phone works. 

surprisingly, sirius doesn’t visit. reg spends the entire day holed up in his personal library, reading every book he can get his hands on. peace lingers in the air, fills his lungs, eases over his bared nerve endings. he can feel it mingling with the oxygen he consumes. peace is kind. peace is gentle. 

peace is boring. 

the phone is in his hands after nearly ten hours of pure and unbridled boredom. he’s dialing a number off the parchment, and to his utter surprise, it actually rings on the first try. he’s sort of proud of himself. he managed to work a muggle phone. there’s no answer. he sighs and sets the phone back in its place. what could sirius possibly be doing that’s more important than him? probably remus, actually. their obviously heightened libido is baffling to him. 

there are three other phone numbers written. james and lily, dorcas and marlene, pandora and xenophilius. if he calls the second or third numbers, he’ll have a house full of people within half an hour. if he calls the first, he’ll have to interact with yet another man he’s snogged for the second time that day. he’ll get to see harry, though. does he actually want company, though? he likes the silence. at least he thinks he does. until it starts ringing. 

no, that’s not the silence ringing. it’s the telephone. he grips it eagerly and raises it to his ear. maybe it’s sirius, or remus. 

“hello?” he practically chokes out. there’s laughter on the other end, distant in the background, and he can tell it belongs to a child. it’s either pandora or the potters, then. 

“hi, regulus,” greets the voice of james potter. he wants to hex himself. twice in one day. really? 

“oh, hi james. what did you need?” regulus asks. his fingers are shaking as they wrap themselves in the rubber cord hanging from the handle of the telephone. he still doesn’t understand the point of it, but it’s fun to fidget with, so he won’t complain too much. 

“haz has been asking for you all day. we were wondering if we could bring dinner over and have a movie night.” company. does he want company? he does feel a bit lonely, he supposes. and harry is a delight, so it would be worth it. do lily and james have to be there, though? he isn’t fond of the idea of adult conversation. speaking with children is much easier. “regulus?” he’s been silent for too long. that’s embarrassing. 

“i suppose it’s fine. i can cook for you all, if you’d prefer it.” 

“no, no. there’s no need for that. we’re imposing, so we’ll bring dinner.” 

“if you insist. what were you planning to cook?” 

“empanadas, i think. harry’s been asking about them lately.” 

“understood. do you lot have a preference for tea?” 

james chuckles. harry is squealing in the background, and lily seems to be making dragon noises. 

“lily likes earl grey. i don’t have a preference. i can bring drinks too, y’know.” 

“i’m aware. i’ll have tea ready when you get here.” 

“alright. see you then, reg.” 

“my name is regulus.” 

“right, yeah. see you then, regulus.” 

regulus hangs up the phone. he breathes a huffy sigh, spins to observe the kitchen and dining. his house is a mess. he knows realistically it isn’t, that it’s just his inner perfectionist hounding him, but it looks horrid. there’s a book on the kitchen counter, the dining table is without a centerpiece, the living room is a bit dusty. he lifts his wand, casts a spell, and the house is moving.

there’s a duster going in the living room, his book is levitating up the stairs, his mother’s favorite centerpiece is setting itself on the dining table. a kettle is boiling on the stove. china floats around the table, along with silverware and his favorite teacups. would harry prefer juice? he’s not sure if he’s got any. a quick search through the refrigerator reveals absolutely nothing. a trip to the grocery store, then. 

fifteen minutes and too much social interaction later, the table is set and prepared for dinner, and six different kinds of juice are taking up the refrigerator. it’s not like there’s much in there, anyways. just some bagged cheese, a few half used jars of pasta sauce, a bit of cream, and now way too much juice for one person. will the potters find it weird? he sorely hopes not. 

he prepares a pie for dessert. two, actually. one apple and one cherry. he can never be too prepared for a dinner party. if lily and james are coming, there’s a good chance sirius and remus may be as well. six places at the dining table are set just in case. 

half past five, the floo network fizzles to life. lily enters first, wearing a floral patterned white dress and harry on her hip. her green eyes are glimmering as she looks around the living room, taking in the numerous shelves around the room. harry seems delighted to be back here. james follows shortly after, a ceramic dish clutched in his hands. he’s dressed just as simply as lily, sporting jeans and a plain tee shirt.

regulus feels overdressed. he’s not sure he knows how casual dinner parties work. lily and james, and harry actually, are dressed like they’re prepared for a casual dinner amongst themselves, and regulus is clad in his finest wear. a vest buttoned over a white button down, tucked into trousers, finished with his all star’s, because he refuses to wear another pair of shiny formal shoes ever again.

even his hair is overdone. lily’s is hanging down over her shoulders, harry’s is as messy as always, and james’ is too. regulus went the extra mile and pinned his into half a bun, because the top half is long enough to go up, and the bottom half can’t reach. his bangs can’t, either, so two pesky curls are hanging on either side of his face. speaking of his face, he can feel the redness of his cheeks. 

“oh, regulus! it’s good to see you again,” lily chirps. she’s beaming at him, pleased to see him, and he feels his previous burst of anxiety was for nothing. perhaps he should dress this way every time he hosts the potters. then, they can assume he always wears this around his house. oh, who is he kidding? he looks ridiculous compared to them. pureblood habits die hard, he supposes. 

“hello, potters,” he greets simply. he feels like he’s signed his own death certificate as the floo comes to life again. 

“we invited sirius and remus. i hope that’s okay with you,” james says. he’s shifting from leg to leg, glasses falling down his nose. there’s still a dish clutched in his fingers. regulus crosses the room and takes it from him. 

“they’re more than welcome here. it’s not like i can stop sirius, anyways.” he carries the ceramic into the dining room, sets it on the dining table. he doesn’t like how off center the table looks. perhaps his mother’s centerpiece can go back in the hutch. perhaps he should burn it, actually. no, he should return it to the hutch. that’s better. the empanadas are carefully arranged at the center of the table, a pie on either side, and two porcelain pots of tea on either side of those. 

the living room is loud when he comes back to it. sirius has shrunk into the form of a large black dog with harry on his back and is running in circles around the room. harry is shrieking with laughter, and it seems to be contagious, because the adults are giggling as well. sirius is really, truly ridiculous. regulus is smiling, though. his house hasn’t felt alive since he first stepped foot inside, and with the people currently causing a ruckus in his living room, it almost does. 

“oi! off the furniture, mutt!” he founds himself shouting as sirius hops onto the sofa. sirius halts in place, looks at him, and opens his mouth. drool drips onto the fabric. regulus has a wand in one hand and a pocketknife in the other. “have your pick, brother. would you rather die painfully, or more painfully?” 

sirius is much too happy as he devolves back into his human form. harry is still perched on his back, squealing with laughter, hands wrapped up in a loose band tee. sirius is squatting on the couch, shoes and all, and regulus sees red. he charges, sirius runs, james plucks harry off his back. 

“moony! he’s going to kill me! do something!” sirius shouts over his shoulder. he’s laughing. the bloody fool is laughing. regulus is darting after him, on his heels, wielding two weapons in his hands. they loop through the house through connecting rooms, and come back to the living room. 

“you’re going to fucking die tonight!” regulus growls. he’s tossed the pocketknife at some point, though he can’t remember when. he shoves his wand into his pocket. two free hands surely would work better in this situation. sirius’ hip hits the dining table, rattling dishes against one another, and it’s exactly what reg needs to catch up. he’s got a fistful of sirius’ hair. sirius hits the floor. regulus straddles his back, slams his head twice into the hardwood, presses the tip of his wand to his jugular. 

“please! mercy, please!” regulus has no intention of showing mercy. harry is still laughing in the other room. the kid is scarily amused by his godfather’s certain demise. reg likes him a bit more now, he thinks. 

“no mercy, reg!” remus shouts. sirius wails, dramatic as ever. regulus holds sirius there for a moment, straining his thigh muscles to hold his flailing body still. has he always had this much power in his thighs? they’re a bit thick, he knows, but he’s always assumed it was baby fat he never managed to lose. he’s kind of attracted to himself right now. 

“if you make a mess of my furniture again, i will end you. understood?” regulus spits into his brother’s ear. sirius is nodding vigorously, panting from his place laying on the floor. regulus releases him, rises to his feet, spins on his heel. james and lily have their mouths dropped open, eyes big, and harry is waddling about between them. remus is impossibly amused considering he’s just watched his boyfriend receive a minor beating. 

“dinner?” regulus inquires, chest heaving and arm flourishing a view of the dining table. seats are taken apprehensively. harry settles into the spot just beside the head of the table, as marked by the plastic cup resting in place of a porcelain teacup. regulus takes the head of the table. lily sits on his other side. james sits beside harry. remus seats himself between lily and sirius. good. the further sirius is, the less likely regulus is to murder him. he’s still peeved about the couch, though the satisfaction of sirius’ head already supporting a bit of a knot takes precedence. 

“i’m not sure how pureblood etiquette works, if i’m being honest,” lily mutters to regulus. sirius is already gracefully serving himself, clearly still poised due to a decade and a half of etiquette classes and high society parties. regulus leans towards lily, guards his mouth from the others with his palm. 

“do exactly what i do. we’re going to make the others sweat,” he responds. lily’s eyes sparkle with guarded mischief. harry gives exactly zero fucks. he’s already got two fists of empanadas and is heartily devouring them. regulus can’t bring himself to be upset by the mess. lily does as told and copies every movement of regulus’ poise. he serves himself, as does she. he prepares a cup of tea, she’s quick to do the same. remus and james are shifting in their seats. regulus is victorious. 

“just fucking eat, you two. etiquette doesn’t actually matter with me,” he muses. james is furiously blushing as he slides far too many empanadas onto his plate considering they’re ridiculously oversized. remus does the same. regulus muses to himself something about a wolffish appetite which he finds hilarious enough to chuckle at. he doesn’t miss the way sirius lifts his head at the sound. 

half an hour of sirius’ teasing later, with full stomachs and bright smiles, the group moves the dinner party to the outdoors. it’s still bright outside thanks to the summer sun, and it’s miserably hot. regulus tosses his silly vest onto the porch, along with his shoes and his socks. if he’s going to be outside, he’s going to do it barefoot, and it’s his property so he will not take any complaints. harry copies him. it’s endearing. they’re both barefoot as they take off into the grassy lawn, racing to the single tree in the distance. naturally, because regulus does quite adore harry potter, he throws the match. harry’s hand snacks the bark three seconds before regulus’ does. 

“you’re too fast for me, prongslet,” he says, pretending to pant from exertion. harry looks up at him with big green eyes and an awed smile. 

“again!” harry exclaims. regulus counts down from three, and watches as harry takes off again. they race another two times before harry gets bored and demands a rather exerting game of tag. all seems right in the world, with some of his closest friends… ish… gathered on his front porch and his favorite person on the planet running around the lawn with him. he’s smiling, bright and unguarded. this is paradise, he thinks. 

james

james is not a sap. he’s not sappy in the slightest. okay, yeah, he’s a sap and a liar. can he be blamed, though? the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life is chasing his son around the valley and his wife is tucked into his chest and those empanadas were really fucking good. he has the right to feel sappy right now, thank you. 

“he’s really good with kids,” remus observes. james nods. regulus is really good with kids. it’s a solid fact, as solid as the sky being blue and the sun being too fucking bright. he didn’t expect regulus to be so pleasant with children when they met, mainly because of the sharp tongue and straight face, but it all washes completely away around harry. regulus is a different person with children. he’s kinder, softer, less abrasive. it’s a pleasant switch. 

“he’s always had a soft spot for kids. he won’t admit it, but he does. we both do,” sirius mumbles. james doesn’t want to know why. he has a feeling it’ll involve walburga and orion black, and he very much does not need his evening ruined by the reminder of the black brothers’ trauma. 

“he’s a very kind man. don’t tell him i said that,” james comments. this earns him a few chuckles. the air is still, the summer sun only just beginning to approach the horizon. green grass blooms with hues of orange light, casting an ethereal glow upon regulus black and harry potter. james loves the sight. he’s always thought harry is a beautiful child, with melanin in his skin and forests in his eyes, but paired with regulus, perfect poise and sharp features, he can’t help but find harry to be angelic. 

they’re running still, further and further, and regulus stops for a moment. he looks back, barely visible as he waves. james waves back. he doesn’t know why, but he does. sirius does too. lily tenses. why is she tense? 

“oh my god. regulus!” she shrieks. she’s off the porch in seconds, dress billowing as she sprints towards the duo. then james sees it.

the cliff. there’s a cliff. harry is about to run off of the cliff. and now james is sprinting too. regulus spins around. everything is moving in slow motion. harry falls off the edge with a horrifying shriek of pure terror. regulus dashes over the side after him. sirius and remus are on james’ heels, and james is on lily’s. a broom flies over their heads, disappears off the side of the cliff. everything falls silent. four pairs feet embed themselves in dirt and grass. 

james could cry. is he crying? he thinks he is. he can’t hear the sound of his own sobbing over the blood rushing past his ears, but he can feel the telltale squeezing of his heart and lungs. it’s too quiet. harry is gone, isn’t he? harry’s dead at the bottom of a cliff, and regulus is too. regulus jumped to save his son, and he couldn’t, and james will never forgive him for it. 

the universe aligns as the broom speeds back up over the horizon. on it sits regulus black, one of the greatest quidditch players in their hogwarts days, and harry potter, the light of james’ life. james should’ve known. he really should’ve. the second that broom darted over their heads, he should’ve known everything would be okay. regulus was a seeker, after all. he’s good at catching things, he’s a quick thinker, he’s got impeccable reflexes. james is hugging him before his feet have a chance to touch the ground. 

“oh my god. oh my god. oh my god.” he’s not sure if he’s capable of saying anything else. his son is okay. his son is safe. harry is okay. harry is safe. why is he still crying? harry is safe. he’s safe because regulus saved him. he’s safe because regulus nosedived off a cliff to save him. 

“thank you,” lily’s sobbing. she’s got harry now. when did she grab him? james doesn’t know. he’s still hugging regulus, crying into his shoulder, repeating the same three words over and over and over again. harry is okay. harry is safe. regulus is safe. 

“i should’ve been watching him,” he hears regulus snap. everything is muffled still, the sound of his own sobs filling his eardrums. is there an argument going on? he can’t tell, but it sounds like it. 

“yeah, and you fucking saved him, regulus!” sirius is yelling now. james can’t be bothered to pay attention. he’s so grateful. so, so grateful. he doesn’t think he could stop hugging regulus if he tried. there’s too much to say and not enough words to say it, so he’s settling for a bone crushing hug and enough tears to soak a desert. 

“he wouldn’t have needed to be saved if i hadn’t turned around, sirius! i fucked up! i nearly cost him his fucking life!” regulus is shouting. he’s shouting, and he’s tense, and james can feel him trembling. so james hugs him tighter, shushes him, does the only thing he knows to do. he strokes the top of regulus’ head, cages him in through two arms around his waist. it’s alright. it’s okay. harry is okay. all is well. regulus is crying now too. he’s trembling and he’s crying and james is holding him. 

“thank you, regulus. you saved my boy,” he’s whispering hoarsely. the tears haven’t stopped. if anything, they’ve multiplied. james has never done well with watching other people cry. lily’s here too, now. her arms are wrapped around the two of them and she’s crying too. james can hear her wails and harry’s chatter to sirius. regulus is hugging them back, he realizes. one of regulus’ hands is tangled in james’ shirt. james could melt. he wants to melt. he wants to melt into a puddle of gratefulness and relief and drape himself over regulus like a blanket. 

“i told you, james,” regulus hiccups. “i’ll die before i let anything happen to him.”