Things had been good lately - very good even.
Regulus is well into his sixth year at Hogwarts. Finally moved out from his parents’ home – after a ton of convincing from his pain-in-the-arse of a brother. Welcomed warmly by the Potter’s after his little dramatic escape.
Sure, his parents had not been quite accepting of his decision. Had they thrown every single curse that was against the Ministry’s law to his head? Had they called him unforgivable things? Had they given him more trauma during that fateful night? All yes.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
But, to Regulus it was more than worth it. The bruises on his arms and the cuts on his chest would not fade for a little while, Euphemia Potter had told him with a sympathetic smile. But it mattered not to Regulus in the slightest.
All that mattered to him was the newly found sparkle in his brother’s eyes and his warm smile, that used to never be directed at him, now found its way to Regulus.
The coldness that Regulus used to feel all the time was now diminished and pushed aside by the newly found warmth that was brought by none other than Sirius himself.
Regulus would be lying that it didn’t grief him - the knowledge that it had taken him an entirety of six years to gather up the courage to leave that damned house, to follow his brother to a better one. Of course it did.
But Sirius would reassure him time and time again that it didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were together now. In a better place. With better people.
Sirius was right, of course. They were in a better place. Certainly with better people.
Euphemia was nothing like his mother, Regulus had found out during the summer holidays. Where his mother used harsh words and stinging palms – Euphemia used soft words and caring hands. A complete paradox, Regulus would try to explain to his brother. Sirius would simply nod with red-rimmed eyes – always excusing himself after a little while.
Regulus understood his brother’s grief.
They had never known a loving household. All they had known were cold stares, harsh words, unforgiving actions and always – always – having to fight for a little bit of affection. Affection that always had underlying manipulating purposes underneath the surface.
Regulus and Sirius had always been pit against each other. Never to be seen as equals, but rather as rivals. His mother used to say that the only way for them to outshine the other was by pure skill. Muttering how she could never tell them apart by their looks. Manipulating them into making her tell them apart by their skillset.
A clever way to make them competitive against each other, Regulus knows now. She had curated them in such a way that they were desperate for even a tiny speck of affection – a tiny speck of approval.
Making them rivals in their skills was the perfect way to create a rift between them.
A way to make them both loathe how similar the other looked to themselves. Loathe how their mother would not be able to appreciate them as a separate human being. Thus, making them compete their way to affection and approval.
Cruel. Unforgivably cruel in Regulus’ books.
Regulus would never be able to make Sirius understand how grateful he is that Sirius knew when to stop. Knew when the limit was reached. Knew when to leave, rather than to completely ruin his relationship with the only family member he had ever loved; his brother.
Knew when to leave his mother’s cold claws.
But, Euphemia was nothing like that. Nothing like Walburga Black. No cold glares, no harshness. Only soft edges and loving words. Warm hugs and welcoming arms.
Euphemia had shown him another way a mother’s love could be.
Fleamont Potter was different to his father, too.
His father was never present. Left the raising to his mother, in favour for his own hobbies. His club with his old friends. Drinking nights away, betting good money away with a flick of a wrist. Coming home late during the night, not once blinking an eye at the newly found bruises on his sons bodies.
Coldness was all Regulus had known from his father.
His father might’ve just been a ghost of household member. Never really seen. Never really heard. A stranger in Regulus’ own house. A stranger that Regulus should have loved unconditionally.
Fleamont Potter was nothing like his father.
Fleamont always – always – made his presence known. Regulus thought he’d find it to be annoying at first, but it never was. He liked the loud, boisterous presence of the man. The reminder that father’s could most definitely play a role in their family’s life.
Fleamont showed him interest. Asking him thoughtful questions. Taking him along with him in the process of making his hair gel. Showing curiosity, spending time together and making Regulus feel seen for the first time in his life.
They were good to him. Really good.
Then, of course, came the last Potter. James Potter. The boy Regulus had hated for a good part of his life. Hated for stealing his brother from him. Hated for being better at literally anything Regulus was good at – including how to be a good brother.
Regulus knew that James never really deserved his hate. But, the petty side of him had never allowed his voice of reason to outshine his anger. Never – not once – in those six years he’d spend at Hogwarts.
This summer holiday, though, had Regulus thinking good and hard.
James wasn’t really that awful, getting to know him better. Sure, he was loud, careless, had no – but then absolutely no – consideration for personal space, and was annoyingly loveable.
Fucking loveable.
So fucking loveable.
Regulus had most certainly done a double take at how fast James had molten down his walls, slipped across the now-goopy leftovers of his carefully build walls, and straight into his heart.
James had been patient. Extremely patient during his first weeks away from home.
Where Sirius had been impatient and anxious for Regulus to open up – understandably so, they hadn’t properly talked in months. James had been patient and kind. Never pushing him. Never putting him in uncomfortable positions. Always waiting patiently with a kind smile.
He had been great at taking Regulus’ mind off things. Showing him to play quidditch for fun, because; ‘No Regulus, you cannot only do things for competition, you’ll drive yourself nuts.”. Introducing him to the family library – even though Regulus knows that James doesn’t really care to read. It still warms his heart that James was thoughtful enough to show Regulus a new place to feel at ease.
So, it came to no surprise – but really, a big surprise – to Regulus that he found himself falling for the raven-haired boy – fast. Really fucking fast. It scared him. How easy it was for him to fall for the Gryffindor. How fucking simple it was for him to come to terms that; yes, he likes James Potter.
The worst part? It doesn’t even bother him.
He never – not once – pushes those goddamned butterflies from his stomach. Never lowers his eyes from those hazel ones. Never shuts down a chance to talk to him. Always finding himself to want more. Needing more. Unbeknownst to himself always circling back towards James. Like the earth towards the sun.
And James never pushes him away. Always allows Regulus to want more. Never afraid to give him more. Allowing Regulus to infiltrate his personal space. Leaving his door open with a tiny gap – a silent invitation that it was okay. That Regulus could come in anytime he wanted to.
And Regulus did. Regulus allowed himself to do so. Not once making stupid excuses for his wants and needs. Simply allowing himself, for the first time in his life, to take.
He had found himself many nights sat on James’ bed. Soft moonlight infiltrating the cosy room. A window always cracked open for a cool breeze. James would never admit it, but Regulus knew he did it for him, having told James how cooped up he would always feel when there would be no fresh air in a room.
James allowed him every single time he found himself in his room to let Regulus talk about everything and anything he’d read that day.
Regulus did not know if James was actually interested – he probably wasn’t – but James let him talk anyway. It warms his heart. The thought that James would push aside his own needs for Regulus’ own.
James would also allow Regulus every single time to fall asleep at the end of his bed. James would get annoyed and wake him up. Not for the reasons one would think, but simply to order Regulus to lay more comfortably in his bed. Always letting Regulus end up right next to him. A tiny space left in between them. Connected by two pinkie fingers, curled around each other as a reminder that they weren’t alone in that room.
When Sirius would find them together in the morning, he’d never look affronted. Simply accepted it for what it was and would join them quietly. Pressing himself against his little brother, stealing his warmth for himself. Allowing himself for just a little while to be the protective older brother again – even though he knew that role was long not needed anymore by Regulus.
It still made him feel better. Knowing that he could be there for Regulus. Something that he couldn’t be for the past couple of years. So Regulus allowed him. Secretly enjoying Sirius’ protectiveness as well. Allowing himself - silently - to be the little brother that needed his older brother. Allowing himself to travel back in time just for a little while – when everything still had a slightly rosy colour around the edges of Regulus’ sight. Back when his relationship with Sirius was warm and not tainted – not even a little bit.
And slowly over the last couple of weeks of the summer holiday, the Black brother’s found their peace again. True, it would never be how it once had been. Their relationship wasn’t rosy and spotless. But it was there. Something that hadn’t been present for way too long.
Regulus found it in himself to love again.
Allowing Sirius back into his life. Allowing his affection to wash over him. To accept Sirius’ love and to return it in tenfold – to which Sirius would always respond with; “Silly boy, you could never rival my love for you.”. And he would try his hardest not to cry at the way his brother had turned their hateful rivalry into a rivalry of love.
He failed, of course, time and time again.
Regulus allowed himself to trust adults in his life once more. Receiving love as a recipient of his trust, pushing him to believe that perhaps the elder Potters would not betray his trust like his parents had done before. To which the Potters would, continuously, never disappoint him with their love and his trust.
And, of course, Regulus allowed himself to be in love.
He allowed himself to be in James’ personal space. Allowed himself to take up James’ valuable time of day. Allowed himself to trust James’ with his heart and soul.
To which James would simply allow Regulus to take, and take, and take. As if it was the most simple and easy thing in the entire world.
Regulus would ask James if it was. If it was that easy. To which James would indisputably respond - every single time - with; “When it comes to you, I do not have to think a second about anything you want. What you want and need; you’ll have it.”.
Normally, Regulus would have scoffed. Berated anyone who would dare to speak such untrue words to him. Pleaded for them to speak the truth. To prove him right; that no one could love that easy. That no one could love that selflessly.
But, when it comes to James, Regulus would push those rotten thoughts away. Regulus would allow him, for the first time, to believe James’ words for truth. Allow James to push those thoughts himself from Regulus mind. Allowing James to carefully cradle his heart in James’ warm palms.
And for the first time in his entire life, people did not disappoint him.
Instead, people loved him, cared for him, and showed him other ways that humans could be. Warmer ways, softer ways and more careful ways.
A life devoid of coldness.
Only a warm, soft flame, and soothing words laced with truth.