It’s late at night, the stars extra bright in the dark winter sky. Regulus doesn’t even notice the slight shiver in his body as he gazes at the constellations he’s studied for years. The old observatory is so quiet that he can feel it the moment the door creaks open.
Regulus jerks his head over his shoulder to see a tall shadowy figure. “Christ Lupin, you scared me,” Regulus exhales, shifting his legs.
“Sorry,” Remus mumbles as he shuffles over to take a seat next to him.
“What brings you here?” Regulus asks, watching Remus’ profile light a joint. His face glows from the lighter’s flame, highlighting the smattering of freckles across his tanned cheeks. Regulus can almost form constellations out of them.
“Your brother,” Remus huffs through a cloud of smoke. “As usual.”
Regulus stiffens at the mention of his brother. It is painfully obvious how much Remus cares for Sirius, but Regulus is scared to find out how much exactly. It would reveal information about Remus that he can’t bear to know.
“Ah,” Regulus says softly. He thinks that maybe if he focuses on his own star long enough it will recognize his distress and take them all out with an explosion. He doesn’t have such luck.
“He’s sneaking over his fucking boyfriend,” Remus spits out after a long inhale. “I can’t even witness it. It makes me physically sick.”
Regulus accidentally lets out the driest laugh known to man. Remus turns his head towards him, eyes offended.
“I’m not laughing at you, I know the feeling,” Regulus mutters. I know it all too well, he thinks with an eye roll, the pit of dread growing in his stomach.
He can feel Remus’ eyes on him, analyzing this new information. Regulus hopes he hasn’t given himself away. To his luck Remus only hums, returning his gaze to the stars, laying on his back in the process.
“Well, it's fucking shit.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Regulus sighs, reaching out for the joint. Remus hands it off to him, the slightest touch between their fingers. Regulus shakes off the shudder as he takes a hit. The feeling of Remus’ eyes on him could kill him, lighting every surface of his skin on fire.
“Sometimes I think if things were different, you and I would make sense,” Remus ponders out loud. Regulus quite literally chokes on the smoke in his lungs.
“What?” he rasps, eyes wide, heart absolutely racing.
“I don’t know, it just would make sense. Us. The two hopelessly in love, but instead of it being someone else it's just us. There wouldn’t have to be some dramatic reveal. We would read, write, do this,” Remus waves his hand slowly between them.
Regulus recomposes himself, “Yeah if only it were that easy.”
Remus lets out a light laugh that turns into a dramatic sigh. Regulus practically shoves the joint to him, worrying that if he gets too high, he will make a fool of himself. Remus finishes the joint in silence. The quiet wraps around them like a blanket, despite it being freezing. Regulus notices that the high has helped him warm just barely, but the tremor in his body is still noticeable.
After what could have been twenty minutes or an hour, Regulus could never tell, Remus slowly stretches his body out. He stands with an endearing clumsiness that makes Regulus clench his fists. The tips of his nails dig into the soft skin of his palms.
“Goodnight, Regulus,” Remus says softly. Regulus looks up to see him in the process of removing his sweater, revealing a bit of his stomach before his shirt rights itself. Regulus forces himself to look away. If he started identifying birthmarks on Remus, he knows for certain he wouldn’t make it out alive. “Here.”
Regulus looks up again, too distracted by trying to play it cool. His eyes squint in confusion as he slowly takes the sweater from the boy above him.
“For the cold,” Remus shrugs, before turning and making his leave. The echo of the door closing felt a lot louder than it was. He stares at it until a gust of cold air makes him aware of his shivering, rushing to put the green sweater on. The smell of cedar and weed overtakes his senses, butterflies igniting in his stomach.
“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters to himself.
It wasn’t long until it became a routine. Regulus would find Remus joining him in the observatory on the edge of the Potter’s property line, an extra sweater in hand and usually a joint. Sometimes it was a snack instead. Or both.
They would sit side by side, sometimes chatting, sometimes in silence. Regulus couldn’t tell which he preferred. Both felt so right. He has never felt so known in his life, unable to hide himself from Remus. He has waited for years for Remus to notice him. Now that he has his full attention, he devours every second of it. The information pours out of him as if Remus is summoning it himself. It scares Regulus how good vulnerability feels around him.
They talk and talk. About the stars, or the moon, which Remus prefers, how fucking cold it is outside. Their favorite food, their least favorite music genres (Regulus is adamant that country is the worst, but Remus refuses to admit that heavy metal is better than country) Sometimes they debate random shit, nothing that really matters, mostly hypotheticals. The fun days, Regulus thinks, are when they argue, going at each other’s throats. It leaves Regulus feeling hot and bothered. He is almost scared he is revealing himself more and more each night to Remus. There comes a point where he stops worrying about that, knocking down every wall he has carefully constructed for years.
“I don’t know I just love how it feels when I play melancholy music. It makes me feel part of one whole like everything makes sense and I can know exactly who I am. It scares me how much I need it to feel myself,” Regulus rambles. Remus is watching him intently, listening as always. It’s late February, and their routine is officially established to the point that Regulus rarely feels embarrassed anymore when he shares something intimate about himself.
“I love it,” Remus tells him casually, without knowing the damage done by those words. “You have a mellow vibe to your music, it’s fitting. You’re going to go far; I can feel it.”
“I appreciate your feedback,” Regulus says sarcastically, making them both laugh. “I—” he stops himself, scared to continue, yet he does with another deep breath. “I remember who I am when I’m with you,” Regulus admits to the quiet darkness, unable to look Remus in the eyes.
“That’s crazy,” Remus replies, eyes burning Regulus’ skin, “because you’re unforgettable.”
Regulus looks over at him, his face is surely flushing an embarrassing shade of red. He thanks his lucky stars that it’s nighttime.
“What?” he rasps out.
They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity to Regulus.
“You heard me,” Remus says with a small smirk, looking back at the moon.
The silence comes again, but it’s different. Now it’s charged and tense. It’s out of their routine, and that’s terrifying. Regulus can’t stop staring at his profile in shock.
“You’re staring”
“I know”
“Just making sure,” Remus still had that smug smirk.
“Shut up,” Regulus laughs out, unsure of where it came from. His nervous energy is buzzing all around him. Remus returns the stare again, the tension returning in full force.
“Make me,” he practically whispers.
Before either of them can understand what’s happening, Regulus launches himself toward Remus, pulling him into a harsh kiss. He can feel his entire body ignite with something he has never felt before. Neediness mixed with intense relief. Remus returns it with as much passion, his hands guiding Regulus to his lap. Regulus lets out a gasp as their bodies meet one another.
The kiss is urgent. Punishing. Regulus’ head is spinning, unable to grasp what is legitimately happening to him right now. Remus certainly knows what to do with his mouth because—
“Fuck,” Regulus says into his mouth. He has never regretted a word faster in his life. It instantly breaks the trance Remus is in because he all but jerks back.
“Shit, no, sorry, I shouldn’t have done that” Remus rushes out, letting go as if Regulus burnt him.
“Rem—”
“No, please, I can’t,” Remus cuts him off. “Not when I lov—” this time cutting himself off, his mouth snapping shut.
Immediately, Regulus moves off him, looking everywhere but at him. The shame and embarrassment flood his body. He can’t respond, he refuses to. Part of him knows that if he even tried his voice would crack and that would be more mortifying than climbing into his laugh and kissing him like he was taking his dying breath.
Remus stands with more clumsiness than usual. “I should- yeah…”
The door closes with deafening quietness.
Regulus’ head falls to his hands, a sob shuddering out of him in a force stronger than Regulus thought he was capable of. The sting of rejection feels so much worse than the loneliness of wanting.
Regulus' body moves with the music coming from the piano. His eyes are closed, gently not tightly. His fingers move purely on muscle memory. He doesn’t play classical much, as it reminds him of his childhood. But when he does it consumes him.
The Four Seasons: Winter by Vivaldi pours out of him in a storm of emotion. With every note, every key pressed, emotion is rushing in just as much as it is pouring out. He first learned the piece when he was eleven. Stiff and disconnected in his parents’ study. The difference is striking now, at the age of twenty. The piano and him making a symbiotic relationship, pushing, and pulling each other. He knows that he shouldn’t be playing as loud as he is, while it is an intense piece, some parts of it could be softer. But he doesn’t care. He needs this, needs it like a bandage to cover an open wound.
The last note resounds in the living room, his chest heaving from both exertion and emotion. He fails to notice that he has gained an audience.
“Well, that definitely wasn’t mellow,” Remus's deep voice comes from behind him.
Regulus’s body wants to jerk at the sound of it, but he refuses to move, even refusing to look over his shoulder.
It’s been over a month since the kiss. Winter has thawed around them, and the sensibility of spring has settled in, making the rejection all more apparent in Regulus’ mind. Without the lonely aura of winter to comfort him, he feels confronted with every feeling he has ever felt towards the idiot staring at him now.
“Still ignoring me?” Remus tries again, his voice sounding strained. Regulus almost feels bad. Almost.
“Yeah, I am,” Regulus bites out, kind of contradicting the point but it doesn’t matter, nothing does. Not when he feels this angry.
“I have apologized a million times over, Regulus,” Remus pleads with him. “I wasn’t even the one who initiated it.”
“Does it even matter?” Regulus yells. “You certainly didn’t try to stop it.”
“Please, just calm down, we can—”
“Do not tell me to calm down,” Regulus seethes, standing from the piano bench.
“We both made the same mistake, it shouldn’t have happened,” Remus panics.
“We didn’t do anything,” Regulus snaps, “you did. You did this by making me feel comfortable enough to let my guard down around you. To feel around you. You shouldn’t have done that knowing I would make a fool of myself. You never stopped loving him, but you still came and gave me false hope so blatantly. You should’ve never come to the observatory in the first place. Everyone knows that is my space. Mine. So no, you did this, not me.”
“I didn’t know what I was doing. You know that I’m not good with this, I can’t rationalize everything the way you do,” Remus pleads with a sincerity that he refuses to acknowledge.
“You had to know, at least some part of you, maybe it was buried, but you had to know how I feel about you,” Regulus forces out. “You had to, otherwise…” He loses his words, feeling his hands shake. He turns away to hide the tremor from Remus, even though he most likely spotted it already.
“Regulus, we are the same, you know that I was hurting as much as you were, you must know that” Remus tries, but Regulus refuses to be recognized as his equal. It hurts too much.
“Leave,” Regulus demands barely above a whisper. It was practically nonexistent. If Remus wasn’t straining his ears for any sort of reaction, he wouldn’t have heard it. But Regulus knows that he did. The sound of his footsteps fades to what Regulus could only assume is Sirius’ room. The room where most of his brother’s friends spent these days considering Sirius’ unexpected break up with his boyfriend. It kills Regulus to see the hope in Remus’ eyes.
He wipes a single tear away as he hears a different noise behind him. A happy noise.
“Hey Reg,” James greets him with a too-bright smile. There’s a pack of beer in one hand, his swinging lanyard in the other. “Are you playing something?”
James absolutely loves it when Regulus plays. He claims that Regulus’ music is the soundtrack of the hypothetical movie that is the wonderful, unburdened life of James Potter. Regulus only shakes his head when he says it, not believing a word of his blind optimism.
“No, actually I just finished,” Regulus states, the monotone in his voice evident.
“Oh, damn,” the light in James’ eyes diminishes only slightly.
Spring bleeds into summer seamlessly, Regulus barely even registers the difference. At least not until the cooler nights turn into hotter, stickier ones. The old observatory is the best in the summer, Regulus tends to spend most summer days out there. He knows that his isolation is becoming more and more obvious to the Potters and his brother. But he can’t find himself to care.
He ignores Sirius and James for the most part, rarely interacts with Peter, and never with Remus. He couldn’t bear to even say hello to him. It would feel like a stab to the chest, barely missing his heart, but still as painful.
For the most part, Regulus writes when he is in the observatory. He writes until callouses form on his fingers, ink smudging his hands. He has filled nearly three notebooks within a month. It feels like if he doesn’t keep writing, then he will lose it and never be able to write again. So, he writes like he is racing against time. Day after day sitting in the shade of the observatory, his hands have garnered a lasting ache in them, but it’s welcome. It distracts from the other ache in him.
It's early June and he’s in the middle of a new song, stuck on a particular verse when the door opens. He isn’t stupid enough to think it’s Remus. He knows it isn’t.
“Hi, Reggie,” Sirius's voice sounds behind him.
“Hi”
“Do you, um, got a minute?”
Regulus closes his notebook cautiously, turning in interest. It isn’t until then he realizes that Remus is with him. He notices the boy before noticing the very obviously joined hands between his brother and him. Regulus’ eyes widen, only barely.
Sirius’ grin is painful, a stab that surely goes right through his heart.
“So, um, Moony and I are officially dating,” his smile grows, looking at his boyfriend with such obvious heart eyes that it makes Regulus nauseous. What almost does him in is the obvious heart eyes that are returned by the only person Regulus has been able to love.
“Oh,” is all Regulus can get out. He forces him to only look at his brother and not the boy who is staring at him suddenly with an intensity he cannot read. He just can’t.
“Isn’t it brilliant!” Sirius says excitedly.
“Yeah, that is fantastic,” Regulus forces a smile. It’s unsurprisingly easy to do, with years of practice from when they lived with their parents. “I’m happy for you Sirius,” he manages to say with an even tone. Sirius practically beams at him, while Remus’ expression dims further.
“Okay well, we’ll leave you alone,” Sirius says, tugging at his boyfriend's arm and turning to the door. “Love you!”
“I love you,” Regulus says quietly. His brother’s back is to him, completely missing the fact that he isn’t even remotely addressing Sirius, rather the tall boy with the freckles that haunts Regulus’ dreams. Remus only stares back for as much as he can until he is pulled through the doorway.
The door slams, but Regulus doesn’t notice it over the feeling of his eyes burning.
Summer is filled with an unbearable amount of PDA and excruciating heat that Regulus is forced to choose between two hells. He ultimately chooses to sweat to death over the slow death of watching his brother fall more helplessly in love with Remus.
The influx of writing inspiration hasn’t slowed. However, the ballads have slowly turned into poems. He is no longer creating melodies and verses. Instead, he fills line after line of stanzas. It’s more mindless this way, allowing him to let the emotions out without really feeling them.
It takes until the end of June for him to not be the only one who must choose between two hells because soon James starts coming around the observatory. Peter is away working at a summer camp for the next few months, leaving James to be a perpetual third wheel. It usually takes at least two hours into their hangouts for James to show up.
Regulus doesn’t mind because they don’t interact, at all. Not a word is spoken between them. At first, it surprised Regulus, especially since James usually speaks a mile a minute. But after a while, he stops wondering and simply accepts this new side of him.
James is in the middle of doing push-ups, something he does frequently, when Regulus decides he can’t write anymore. It’s the middle of August now; seven notebooks have been filled. His brother returns to school in two short weeks, taking his friends with him. Regulus will be thankful for the reprieve. Months alone lie ahead for him to spend time refining his music, maybe even go to a recording studio. He is thankful that the Potters support his fantasy. It makes it easier to live with the guilt of not going to university like it was planned for most of his life.
He shoves the notebook away in a mini tantrum. James stops mid-pushing up and looks over to Regulus, who is removing his shirt with an angry vigor, throwing the bunched-up cloth across the room. James watches while he shifts to sit back on his heels.
The black tank top that was beneath his shirt sticks to Regulus’ skin in the heat. It drives him absolutely insane.
“I wish I could douse myself in water,” Regulus groans.
“I could fulfill that wish,” James says with a smirk. Regulus looks over with a raised eyebrow. “Come on”
It’s a short walk to the small lake on the other side of the property, Regulus becoming more unbearably hot and sticky.
“I present to you: Lake Caltha”
“Lake Caltha?”
“Yeah, it’s named after the marsh marigold that grows all around here,” James explains while he takes his shirt off in one swift movement. “You coming in?”
“How has it taken you all summer for you to show me this?” he asks but is only met with a shrug. “Are you sure it’s safe to swim in?” Regulus eyes the water skeptically.
“Yes, I promise, I’ve swam here for most of my life,” James smiles, “It’s where I learned to swim actually.”
“It’s just that,” Regulus’ throat closes itself in embarrassment. “Um, I don’t really know how to—you know,” he gestures at the water. James’ eyes widen a little.
“Oh, I didn’t know—,” he says quickly.
“No, it’s fine,” Regulus cuts him off, “I just never learned. My, uh, parents didn’t let me after Sirius was such a menace at swimming lessons.”
“I can teach you,” James says earnestly. “I promise it isn’t as scary as it looks.” Regulus swallows stiffly, before nodding.
“Okay,” he agrees, peeling off his tank top. James averts his eyes not so subtly. They undress down to their shorts before wading out into the water together. James holds Regulus’ hand tightly as they go deeper.
“Let the water take you into a float, you don’t need to kick yet. Lean into me if you feel like you’re about to panic,” James says softly. Regulus doesn’t respond, his mouth shut tightly, while his fingers grip James’ upper arm out of fear. “Lean into me Regulus, trust me.”
He does what he’s told, arms looping around James’ neck. Gentle hands find his waist in the water, steadying him. His legs kick lightly on instinct, keeping him afloat.
“Good job,” James says with a grin. It isn’t until then Regulus notices their proximity because he is instantly met with his big brown eyes. He gives a small grin of victory in return.
They slowly progress to Regulus floating on his own. He isn’t sure how much time has passed, but its progression feels peaceful. For the first time since winter, Regulus isn’t painfully aware of time barely scraping by. He lets himself laugh innocently with James in the water, welcoming every guiding touch of James’ hands. Ease fills the gaps in his body, where sadness usually resides. It’s as though he can feel himself return to his body.
James is laughing at something Regulus has said when Regulus notices he is enjoying James’ happiness as much as his own.
“What?” James asks with an eyebrow wiggle.
“Nothing,” Regulus giggles.
“What? Tell me,” James pokes at him, making Regulus yelp.
“I’m just happy, that’s all,” Regulus can feel himself blush at the admission, but he can’t find himself to care that it’s broad daylight for James to see.
“Oh, well, good,” James grins wider, “me too.” They tread water around each other, both boys giggling at nothing. “Can I ask what you write about?”
Regulus thinks that if he asked that this morning, he would’ve snapped at him. But now, at this moment, when he has felt the most relaxed in months, he only lets out a breath.
“I write about a lot.”
That forces a laugh out of James. “I mean yeah, I know that.” Regulus splashes him out of faux annoyance.
“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to then,” Regulus teases.
“I want to know what it’s about though,” James asks again, swimming closer. “Are they secrets?” he whispers between them, with a mischievous smile on his lips.
“Yeah, filthy ones,” Regulus whispers back playfully.
“Oooh, filthy?” James brightens, still whispering. “How filthy?”
“Embarrassingly so.”
James hums with that stupid smile still on his lips.
“Would you want to share?”
Regulus thinks longer than he would’ve expected to, always assuming it would be an immediate no. Not right now, though. The calmness of the water, the chirping of the birds, the earnestness behind James’ eyes. He has never felt safer than he has at this moment, knowing nothing he says can hurt him. A feeling he has never known before.
“I think I would,” he admits. James' grin returns in full force, waiting patiently for Regulus to spill the beans. “It’s mostly songs I write. Recently, I have made the switch to poetry, which in all honesty it’s all one and the same, but it’s easier for me to detach myself from poems than from songs somehow.”
“Wow,” James says in genuine fascination that stirs something in Regulus. “And they are fully finished songs you could perform? Or just idealistic versions that live in your notebooks?”
“There are both, mostly just idealized versions. But there are a handful of fully polished ones.”
“Would you consider playing one for me?” James asks carefully.
“Maybe,” Regulus says, and surprisingly he can tell he is being honest.
“Are they about someone?” James asks curiously.
“Yeah, unfortunately, all the same person,” Regulus says with a sigh.
“Can I ask who?”
“No”
“Can I guess?”
“You won't guess it,” he is almost certain he wouldn’t.
“You would be surprised,” James' voice is so genuine and honest that Regulus can’t help but be curious.
“Okay then try it.”
“Remus?”
He expects a wave of panic to come over him at the sound of his name, but it doesn’t come. Just a bitter disappointment. Partly in that, he guessed it, and partly in that, it’s actually true. Now he has no choice to confirm or deny, and he doesn’t think he has it in him to lie to James.
“Yes,” he replies so quietly that he isn’t sure that James heard him at least not until he is being pulled into a hug. The water stirs around them as they press into one another. The sudden display of affection has a rapid effect on Regulus, all the repressed emotions building on top of each other, constructing an unstable column of all the feelings that come from unrequited love.
“I know and I’m sorry,” James whispers in his ear, holding him tighter. Regulus lets himself cry. He has never cried in front of anyone before, no one except Sirius when he was so little, he doesn’t even have a clear memory of it. He lets himself sink into James’ hold, crying out all his pathetic feelings over his brother’s boyfriend.
“I'm so sorry Regulus.”
He cries harder at that, burying his face into the crook of James' neck. They have floated back over to a shallow enough area where they can both stand. James' hand combs through his hair as he sobs into his arms, unable to reign it in. His mother would be appalled.
Once he feels like all the repressed feelings have drained themselves from his body, he slowly moves back. Not far enough that James detaches from him, though. James’ thumbs gently wipe beneath both of Regulus’ eyes as he controls his breathing again.
“When did you figure it out?” he hiccups.
“When I noticed Remus joining you regularly in the observatory…probably like late January,” James explains gently. “I started noticing the way you looked at him after that became a thing.”
“So, you’ve known for a while,” Regulus accepts defeat that he has been revealed this whole time.
“Yeah,” James says with a comforting gaze. “I never said anything to anyone since it was all based on suspicion. But once they got together at the beginning of the summer and you became more distant… it solidified it for me.”
“Damn, blew my own cover,” Regulus says with a wet laugh.
“Yeah, darling, unfortunately,” James laughs with him, moving the hair out of Regulus’ eyes.
“All I have ever wanted was for my brother to be happy,” Regulus choked, the emotion coming back instantly, “it’s just…”
“Difficult,” James finishes for him.
“Yeah, that.”
Regulus can see the millions of questions reeling behind James’ eyes. No doubt filled with When? Why? How? He respects that he hasn’t asked any of those. He doesn’t think he could even explain himself.
“Do you still love him?”
The question rests between them. There is a guardedness that forms in James’ expression as he awaits Regulus’ answer.
“No, not anymore,” Regulus says truthfully, “but it still hurts.”
Those big brown eyes stare straight into his soul with their blatant sincerity and care that makes Regulus slightly nauseous.
“Will you sing me one of your songs?” James asks quietly.
“Okay,” Regulus says with a tired smile.
“Okay,” James grins.
By the time they're back at the house, they’re dry and hot again. Regulus almost wants to immediately turn around and go back into the water not out of nerves but out of pure annoyance at the weather.
The house is quiet, everyone else busy with other tasks. It leaves them alone in the quiet comfort of the living room. Regulus takes a seat at the piano, fingers mindlessly playing a few random notes while James settles next to him. No words are exchanged between them, both settling into the moment. There’s a new layer of intimacy that has revealed itself through the bonding that is secret sharing. Regulus is grateful for it, otherwise, he might be embarrassed for what he is about to sing.
“Said I think that you’re special,” Regulus sings softly, hands beginning to play. He has never practiced this, but he has envisioned it so many times over to know exactly what to do. “You told me once that I’m selfish. And I kissed you hard in the dark, in the closet.
You said my music is mellow, maybe I’m just exhausted. You think you're a good person because you won't punch me in the stomach.” He feels James stare at him. It doesn’t burn him as Remus once did. It makes him feel alive.
“And I love you. I don’t know why, I just do, ooh,
But you're not special, you’re evil, you don’t get to tell me to calm down. You make me feel like an equal, but I’m better than you and you should know that by now.
When you fell down the stairs, it looked like it hurt, and I wasn’t sorry. I should’ve left you right there, with your hostages, my heart, and my car keys. You don’t know me.” Regulus takes a breath, but it comes out like he is gasping for air.
“I wanna be happy. I’m ready to walk into my room without looking for you. I’ll go up to the top of our building and remember my dog when I see the full moon.
I can’t feel it yet, but I am waiting…” The piano fades with his voice, his fingers slowing to a stop. He takes a few breaths before having the courage to look over at James.
When he finally forces himself to look, he sees that James is crying. Tears are silently streaming down his face as he looks at Regulus, words escaping him. Regulus gives him a close-lipped smile and half shrug, letting his fingers slip from the keys into his lap. James gently reaches for his hands, grasping hold of them and placing a chaste kiss on his knuckles.
“That was beautiful,” James chokes out. Regulus smiles sadly at the boy in front of him, who shamelessly bears every emotion for the world to see.
“Thank you, James.”
“I won’t tell a soul,” James promises, and Regulus has no choice but to believe him.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay,” James grins softly, kissing his knuckles once more, as if his lips have the power to heal the wounds from Regulus' incessant writing and playing. Even though they can't, James pretends anyways, and Regulus lets him.