Warm

“You’re welcome, James.”

“Sooo welcome, James.”

“Here come stare lovingly into my eyes, James.”

“Oh, James! Won’t you hold my hand and ride off into the sunset with me.”

“Oh, James! Right there, James!”

“I hate you all.” Regulus glared at the wall, refusing to make eye contact with any of his traitorous friends.

“Is it because we’re not James?” Barty cackled.

Regulus shot a stinging hex at him. “Shut up.”

Barty rubbed his side gingerly. “Ow! Why are you so grumpy? Is it because James isn’t here?”

Regulus raised his wand threateningly.

The effect was ruined by Evan snorting in amusement. “Reg. That was the most pathetic display I have ever seen in my life. I need a Scourgify for my eyes.”

Regulus hit him with a stinging hex too.

“I thought it was sweet.” Pandora defended as she patted Regulus’s arm soothingly.

They were once again back in the boys’ dorm, debriefing over the day’s events. Barty and Evan were, as always, laying all over each other on Evan’s bed, while Dorcas perched at the foot of it and Emmeline sat on the floor, resting her head against Dorcas’ leg. Regulus was on his own bed, Pandora at his side. Dinner had come and gone, and Regulus was honestly surprised his so-called friends had managed to keep their teasing in for so long.

“Tooth-rottingly sweet.” Dorcas corrected, “It was like they forgot we were even there.”

Regulus fought not to react. Dorcas caught it anyway.

“Salazar! You did, didn’t you?” An evil smirk spread across her lips. “You forgot we were there because you got so lost in Potter’s bloody eyes!”

This set them all off on yet another round of maniacal laughter. Regulus sent off several more stinging jinxes in return.

“Oh, you’re so buggered.” Evan panted out between laughs. 

“At least he’ll be buggered by his precious James in the process!” Emmeline countered, giggling uncontrollably.

Another round of laughs. Regulus promptly gave up; he lay back and grabbed a pillow to throw over his face, groaning into it.

“Hey! Save the moans for James!” Barty cried.

Regulus flipped him off. More laughter.

Eventually, their laughter died down as they got the teasing out of their systems. Pandora then began attempting to pry the pillow from Regulus’s face.

“Okay, okay. We’re done now.” She cajoled. “You can come out again.”

“I’m gay.”

Barty snorted.

“Not what I meant but I support you. Now move the pillow.”

“I’d rather suffocate and die.”

“You’re so dramatic. Come on.” With one final harsh yank, she succeeded in freeing the pillow from his grasp. Regulus reluctantly sat up, glaring at her.

“Don’t give me that look. This is a good thing really!” Pandora declared optimistically.

Regulus raised an eyebrow in doubt.

“It is!” She insisted. “You are now on a first name basis with James, which shows progression is definitely happening!”

“She’s right.” Emmeline agreed, fiddling with her wand absently. “You even comforted him and he let you which is another good sign.”

“What?” Regulus frowned. “No, I didn’t.”

She smirked up at him. “Yes, you did – after your brother’s freak out, you basically told Potter he didn’t have to pretend to be okay, and then you offered to paint his nails so he could relax again.”

When she put it like that, it sounded very nice of Regulus. He hadn’t meant to do that at all. Regulus was many things but he wasn’t nice.

“I didn’t offer.”

“You offered without offering.” Evan cut in. “It was a classic Regulus move.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes at the blonde boy.

“Anyway,” Pandora interrupted. “We also got a decent preview of how Sirius would react if he found out James was dating someone secretly.”

He raised his eyebrows. Regulus hadn’t thought of that but it was true. His psychotic brother had come ranting and raging on the verge of a meltdown in a public place at the very thought of Potter James (Godric, that was weird) dating someone and hiding it from him. Regulus could only imagine how much bigger and more insane his reaction would have been if it was Regulus in Pandora’s place. Especially if they actually were shagging/dating (he still hadn’t decided which route to go). The meltdown would no doubt be glorious to behold.

And Pandora was right – the incident earlier in the day had given them some good insight for preparations. They would need to make sure the reveal was less public so as not to out Regulus to his parents. And even Potter’s James’s peacekeeping would not be able to soothe Sirius as long as Regulus could get Potter James for real. 

That was the only issue left on the Potter James front – getting the Gryffindor to give in. Regulus could argue, banter, flirt, fluster, tease, compliment, smile or sneer at the other boy but no matter what he did, Potter James always pulled away at the last second. Regulus had been asking himself over and over again what the problem was and he was still no closer to figuring it out.

He relayed his thoughts to his friends.

“How often does the pulling away happen?” Evan asked, mulling it over.

“Every single time I make any progress. He’s literally flown away from me on several occasions.”

Barty hummed consideringly. “He was rather quick to leave yesterday at breakfast.”

“And today…” Dorcas added, leaning forward. “There was a moment I thought you two were going to kiss but then he pulled away and called you mate.”

Regulus sighed in frustration. “Precisely. It’s aggravating.”

“Getting a little frustrated, are you?” Barty couldn’t help but leer, smirking suggestively.

Regulus sent yet another stinging jinx at him, ignoring his yelp of pain.

“Any ideas why?” Emmeline ventured.

He shook his head.

Dorcas sighed. “Well, I suppose there’s not much more you can do but keep trying. If you’re persistent enough, he’ll give in eventually.”

“And really, it’s not even been two months.” Pandora added cheerfully. “It’s not like we were expecting to sink him already.”

That was true; it wasn’t even November yet. They were playing the long game here and would have to be patient. Afterall, they had plenty of time.

“You’re right. We need to be patient.”

“I bet that’ll be hard.” Barty crooned.

Regulus gave up on stinging hexes and lobbed a pillow at him instead. It hit the wanker’s head with a satisfying thunk.

*

The first Quidditch match of the year was always an intense grudge-match between Slytherin and Gryffindor, taking place in early November. And for the past four years straight, Gryffindor had won it, due to their very own Golden Boy: one James Potter.

This year, however, was James’s (Merlin that still felt strange to say, even in his own head) first year as the Gryffindor Team’s Captain, following the graduation of Frank Longbottom. The older boy and James had been quite close for a number of years and so it wasn’t overly shocking that Longbottom had handed the Captaincy over to James despite only being a Sixth-Year. Everyone had been expecting it, actually.

James clearly took the position very seriously given all the extra practice he was putting in. And as much shit-talk as Regulus had given the Gryffindor over the past few weeks, he was relatively certain that Slytherin was going to lose.

That being said, Regulus was far too competitive to go down without a fight.

It was with this mentality that Regulus sauntered out of the Slytherin changing rooms, surrounded by his fellow team-mates. The sound of cheers filled his ears as they stepped onto the pitch and he looked up to the Slytherin stands with a determined smirk, waving a hand at his non-Quidditch-playing friends.

Not ten seconds later, the cheering turned into a raucous roar as the Gryffindor team stepped onto the pitch. The Gryffindor Team was often supported by other non-playing houses. The reason? You guessed it! James Potter.

The boy in question strode confidently onto the pitch, leading his team with his head held high. He wore a dazzling grin as he waved up at the masses, looking every inch the Golden Boy people called him.

For the first time, Regulus felt no spike of jealousy or irritation when he looked over at him. It was hard to be jealous of a Golden Boy who didn’t really exist – beneath all the layers of bravado, Regulus knew, was James. Just James. The boy who blushed when Regulus made a dick joke. The caring boy who made extra warming potions to hand out to younger kids. The Golden Boy was part of James but not even close to all of him.

As the teams lined up either side of the referee, Regulus glanced over at James, bracing himself for the teasing wink.

It never came.

James didn’t even look in his direction. Not before Gryffindor won the toss-up for who gets possession of the quaffle first. Not when they all mounted their brooms. Not when they all flew into position. And not when the whistle blew and the game started.

Regulus was livid.

How dare James ignore him?

How dare James ignore him?

What the actual fuck?

They had been bantering back and forth on this very Quidditch pitch for months and–

Regulus’s internal monologue was rudely interrupted by a surge of cheers from all around the stadium.

“Pot-ter! Pot-ter! Pot-ter!” Was the chant echoing through the air from all sides.

Regulus blinked and looked over just in time to see James circling back around from the Slytherin hoops. Oddly, the boy glanced towards the stands.

“That’s 10 points to Gryffindor from our very own Golden Boy: James Potter! And with that goal we have a new record at this school: Quickest goal ever! A truly impressive one minute and thirty-eight seconds! And now it looks like he’s going in for another go!”

Regulus could only watch in disbelief as James circled back towards the Slytherin goal hoops again. He faked a shot towards the left-most goal, fooling Adrian Pucey, Slytherin’s less-than-perfect Keeper, and then sent the ball sailing through the middle hoop. He then chanced another glance towards the stands – the teacher’s box, specifically.

“And that’s another 10 points to Gryffindor, bringing the total to 20:0 in less than 3 minutes! A truly astounding start by Potter!”

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play it.

Fuelled by his righteous anger, Regulus silently fumed as he scanned the pitch with his eyes, searching for the snitch unrelentingly. Every so often, he got a caught a flash of gold, but any time Regulus made any progress, one of the Gryffindor Beaters sent a bludger sailing in his direction.

Oh, he was going to kill James.

Regulus tried his damn best to ignore what was happening on the rest of the pitch, and normally he was quite good at reducing his world to one single focus. But today, Regulus just could not escape the near constant cheering for James.

If Regulus was relentless, James was a force of nature. In a mere thirty minutes of play, he made thirteenshots and scored nine goals. On his own. His team-mates racked up another two goals, while Slytherin was still at a pathetic zero, leaving the score at a whopping 110:0 to Gryffindor.

Gryffindor’s strategy became crystal clear to Regulus – to make catching the snitch obsolete. James wanted Gryffindor to have such an immense lead that Regulus, arguably the best player on the Slytherin Team, was rendered practically useless.

Regulus relayed this information to Emma Vanity, their Team Captain, who passed it onto the rest of their team. Slytherin redoubled their efforts, playing dirtier and more agressive than ever before, but it made little difference. The other Beater, Mckinnon, seemed to be on Potter-duty, primarily defending the boy, while the rest of the Chasers determinedly kept the Slytherin Chasers busy.

James scored another goal. 120:0.

Interestingly though, instead of whooping and playing up to the crowd, like he normally would, he glanced in the direction of the teacher’s box once again before refocusing. Strange.

Frowning, Regulus followed his gaze to the box this time, scanning it quickly before his attention settled on something odd.

At the bottom of the box, a row of adults, who were definitely not teachers, sat watching the game. An older couple were cheering wildly beside… Was that Frank Longbottom and his fiancé, Alice Fortescue? Longbottom was wearing a set of sporty robes with the Puddlemere United crest emblazoned on his breast pocket. Another wizard with short grey hair sat beside him wearing the same robes, followed by a severe-looking woman in a bun. Then there was a dark-skinned older man and a shorter, young woman with frizzy curls.

It took Regulus several moments longer than he would like to admit before he realised who exactly he was looking at.

The older couple were James’s parents – his father’s hair was just as much of a bird’s-nest as his son’s and there was a mischievous lopsided smirk that Regulus recognised on his mother’s face. Next to Longbottom was the Manager for Puddlemere United, Jack Lopps, an ex-Chaser himself. The severe-looking woman was Antoinette Toussard, Chief Recruiter for the Tutshill Tornados. Then there was David Mackey and Alison Khare, the Coach and star Chaser of the Montrose Magpies.

Merlin’s balls.

James was being head-hunted by Professional Quidditch League Teams.

No wonder he was playing so hard.

“And another goal from Potter! That’s 130:0 to Gryffindor!”

Ah, Regulus was so busy staring he must have missed that one.

Look, it’s not as if Regulus wasn’t aware that James was good at Quidditch. Everyone knew that. But holy fuck.

Regulus was suddenly assaulted by a hundred different memories from the past few months. James shooting goal after goal at the hoops no matter how many he got in. James dodging bludgers in practice with no one to spot him. The hours and hours of training. The 7 straight hours of practice on Saturdays. The other practices in between. Godric, and all the while he was keeping up with schoolwork, hanging out with his friends, playing pranks, and taking the time to brew and hand out warming potions to the younger students. When did he sleep?

James must have known the recruiters were coming. That’s why he had been training so hard. It’s why he was so focused today; Regulus couldn’t blame James for ignoring him when he had much bigger fish to fry.

Godric, James must have known the recruiters were coming.

How long had he known? Since Summer? Since the beginning of term? The pressure must have been awful. Did his friends know? Of course, they did. How long had they known? Regulus would have appreciated a heads up that recruiters were going to watch them play. This seemed like exactly the sort of information Pettigrew would pass on.

“Prewett scores! That brings the Gryffindor’s total to– oh wait, Potter’s lining up for another one… he shoots… he scores! The points are now at 150 to 0! Regulus Black will have to catch the snitch soon if Slytherin wants even a hope of drawing.”

That snapped Regulus’s attention back to the game at hand. His thoughts were still a whirring jumble of chaos inside his skull but he did his damn best to focus.

The rest of the game was a blur for Regulus. It lasted another 64 minutes (bringing the full game to 2 hours and 7 minutes) and Gryffindor scored thirteen more times (eleven of which were James). But eventually, Regulus spotted the snitch. He dived after it, far too fast for Gryffindor’s young Third-Year Seeker and the game came to a rather anti-climactic close for Regulus when his hand closed around the snitch.

The final score was 280 to 150 in Gryffindor’s favour, despite Slytherin catching the snitch. It was by all accounts a thrashing.

James scored 230 of those points himself.

The crowd was roaring James’s name by the end of it. Even the Gryffindor Team members began circling James and joined in with the wild cheering.

Regulus watched as the Gryffindor Team Captain simply titled his head back in pure relief, exposing the long line of his throat which was dripping with sweat despite the cold weather. When he brought his head back down, he was beaming brightly. He raised a triumphant fist in the sky and relished in the applause that rained on him. Regulus couldn’t blame him.

James then looked over at the teacher’s box, looking straight at his parents. He brought the hand that wasn’t raised to his lips then pointed it straight at his Mother, the gesture for sending a kiss. She beamed at him proudly while her husband whistled at their son loudly beside her. The crowd cheered louder at the kiss gesture, largely oblivious of who it was aimed at.

Then, James turned his attention on the rest of the crowd, flying in a small circle and pumping his fist as he whooped in triumph. At some point in his celebrations, James met Regulus’s eye.

He winked.

*

When Regulus followed Emmeline out of the Slytherin changing rooms, he immediately heard James’s voice, but upon looking around Regulus couldn’t seem to spot him. He stopped for a moment, listening intently before he registered the voice was coming from somewhere behind him. Beside Regulus, Dorcas and Emmeline shot him questioning looks.

“You guys go on without me.” He said distractedly. “I’ll catch up.” They each raised their eyebrows at him suspiciously but after a few moments of back and forth, the girls complied.

Once they left, Regulus carefully followed the voices and began creeping around to the back of the changing rooms. No-one ever tended to go back there except to make out, but sure enough, James was there speaking with the recruiters. Regulus ducked behind a bush, peaking his head out to watch and listen in.

The Gryffindor was still in full uniform, broom in hand, and sweat plastering his hair to the back of his neck as he talked animatedly. The conversation seemed to be primarily between James and Longbottom while the recruiters observed the boy closely.

“Abigail is quite good really – she’s shown a lot of potential in practices – it’s just that Regulus Black is better. I think it comes down to experience; I mean, she almost caught the snitch around the forty-five-minute mark, didn’t she? Near the Ravenclaw stands. I reckon she would have got it if she had been brave enough not to pull up from her dive so early.”

“Weren’t you busy scoring at that point?” Longbottom raised his eyebrows.

“‘A Captain must be aware of the rest of his team at all times.’” James intoned solemnly, oblivious to a few impressed looks being exchanged by the recruiters. “You taught me that. Practically drilled it into my head.”

Longbottom smirked at that. “Ah, I did, didn’t I? I’m so wise.” His fiancé elbowed him in the side. “Ow! I’m not wrong! Jamie, tell Al I’m wise!”

James grinned at him. “If you’re so wise, please give me some tips on how to coach Abigail. I am very much not a Seeker and I have been struggling.”

Before Longbottom could respond, Mackey, the Montrose Magpies Coach and an ex-Beater, chimed in. James listened with rapt attention. Regulus did too. “You were right earlier. It is an experience thing. I would recommend drilling some dives and other quick direction changes. Ashwinder Spins. Couple different feints. Maybe a Kavinsky dive. The works.”

Khare, a current Chaser on the Montrose Magpies, nodded in agreement. “That kid just needs a confidence boost. Get her on her broom as much as possible. Get her comfortable in the air. It will come.”

James nodded eagerly. “Got it. Thank you so much! I’ll set aside some time for one-on-one training with Abigail ASAP. Our next game isn’t until February so we have time.”

“I’d like to talk about you now.” The severe-looking woman said. Toussard, Recruiter with the Tutshill Tornados, arguably the best team in England at the moment.

James swallowed nervously but he met her gaze. “Of course, Ma’am.”

“You missed a goal at the twenty-three-minute mark.” She began. James winced.

“Oh, don’t be so hard on the kid.” Lopps, the Puddlemere United Manager interjected.

“Yeah, watching him today was like seeing a professional play with some school-children.” Khare added.

The woman ignored them both.

“The Slytherin Keeper – Pucey, was it? – managed to block your shot. What would you do differently next time?”

“Risk the time it would take to aim the shot further to my right and go for the right-most hoop instead of the middle one.” James answered immediately, without an ounce of hesitation. “It was overconfident to aim so close to where Pucey already was. I was kicking myself immediately after.”

“You scored three minutes after.” She stated curiously.

James shrugged. “Had to make up for my mistake.”

The corners of the woman’s lips twitched up in the barest hint of a smile. “That was some impressive flying out there today, Mr Potter.” She complimented. “I’d like to stay in touch with you and possibly… discuss some plans for the future.”

James’s eyes widened and a grin broke out on his face like he couldn’t help it. “Oh Merlin! Of course! Yes, I’d love too!” He cleared his throat and visibly tried to calm down. “I mean– yes, I can give you my contact information.”

“Hey now!” Mackey cut in. “We spotted him first!” The man turned to James, seriously. “The Magpies are still very interested in what we talked about over the Summer.”

“Please! Don’t you want to be reunited with your old friend, Frank? We’d love to have you over at PU.” Lopps sweet-talked, throwing an arm over Longbottom’s shoulder demonstratively.

“I… er–” James took a deep breath. “I’m sure you all understand, I’ve got a lot of thinking to do. But I’d like to stay in touch with you all… if that’s, uhm, possible?”

There was a flurry of agreements from the recruiters, some irritated, others perfectly cordial. They continued to chat lightly about the game, as James exchanged contact information with various parties, and he received a shower of, honestly deserved, praise. Soon, though, Professor McGonagall came over with James’s parents. They congratulated him loudly before the whole group was ushered off by the Professor, leaving James finally alone.

Without thinking, Regulus immediately strode over.

“Congratulations.” Regulus drawled as approached.

James jumped in surprise before turning to Regulus. “Oh, hey! Thanks! You were really good too! That Ashwinder Spin to catch the snitch? Masterful!”

“James you scored 23 times today.” Regulus deadpanned.

The Gryffindor smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck in awkwardness. “I guess, I did.”

A pause.

“It was very impressive.”

James blushed, his face a little splotchy with redness after the day’s exertion. “Th-Thanks!”

Another pause.

James pointed to the changing rooms. “I should go–”

“You didn’t wink at me.” Regulus interrupted.

“What?” The boy frowned in confusion.

“You didn’t wink at me.” Regulus repeated. “At the beginning of the game.”

“Oh!” He blinked. “I, uh, I guess I forgot. I was kind of… I was just really focused today. There were some people watching me…”

“You mean your parents, your ex-Team Captain and recruiters from the Montrose Magpies, Puddlemere United and the Tutshill Tornados?”

“…Yes.”

“I suppose I can forgive you.” Regulus sighed after a moment. “You did wink at me after the game.”

“Oh! Good! I guess.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Regulus couldn’t help but ask, taking in the Gryffindor’s stiff posture and distracted demeanour. His gaze kept slipping away to stare into the distance.

“What?”

“Why are you being so awkward?” Regulus demanded.

He rubbed the back of his neck and gave Regulus a sheepish look. “Sorry, I guess I’m just… distracted. I have a lot to think about.”

“Like which Professional Quidditch Team you’re going to join?”

James blinked again in surprise. He really was out of it. “Right. I take it you were listening in, then?”

“Who do you take me for?” Regulus scoffed instead of admitting guilt.

This seemed to draw James back to himself a tad. “An eavesdropping snake, apparently.” He answered with a smile.

Then, his expression turned serious and he looked Regulus right in the eye. “Look, can you keep the er– that whole thing quiet for now? I haven’t really told anyone… and as far as my friends know, I had no idea my parents or any of them were visiting today. And… they don’t know anything about the… the offers either. I’d like to keep it that way.” His voice was more serious than Regulus had ever heard it before.

Regulus processed this for a few seconds. “Are you telling me that your friends don’t know you’re being seriously recruited to the Professional Quidditch League?”

James didn’t reply but that was answer enough.

“Why?” Regulus couldn’t help but ask.

James sighed tiredly. “Are you going to keep it to yourself, or not?”

Regulus didn’t understand. This was a good thing. It was impressive. People worked their whole lives for the kind of opportunity James had in front of him. James had worked his whole life for this opportunity. Surely, he would want the support of his friends. And it was so unlike him not to be boasting about it through the halls. Or was it? Regulus wasn’t so sure anymore.

He didn’t get it. He just didn’t understand. But… Regulus supposed he didn’t have to understand. It was James’s choice to decide who he told. Regulus didn’t have to understand it to respect his boundary.

So, Regulus found himself nodding in agreement. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Not even your friends – I know you tell them everything.” James stressed.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Regulus repeated emphatically.

The boy sighed in relief. “Thanks.”

They stood for a few moments in silence.

“James.” Regulus ventured experimentally. The Gryffindor’s eyes met his. “I promise not tell anyone, but… I do know now. So, you can… you can talk about it with me… if you want.”

James stared at him quietly. His brown eyes seemed bore right through the Slytherin with such an intensity that Regulus was surprised he wasn’t using Legillimency. Maybe this is what people meant when they said not to stare directly at the sun. James seemed like he was looking for something, a conflict warring inside his skull.

Eventually, he looked away. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m okay.” James answered, before he began walking towards the changing room entrance. “I’ll see you around.”

And then he was gone.

Regulus was starting to get familiar with the sight of James Potter’s retreating figure.

*

“Hello, Baby Black! Hello, Evan the Rosiest!” Pettigrew greeted as he casually slid into a seat on the Slytherin table, snagging a slice of treacle tart for himself. “Hello, others I do not know!”

“Good evening, Pettigrew.” Evan responded bemused. “Do make yourself comfortable.”

“I will! Thanks!” Pettigrew said cheerfully, digging into his dessert.

“Can we help you with something?” Dorcas tried, grimacing at the Gryffindor’s poor table manners.

Pettigrew grinned at them through his mouthful. “Actually, I am here to help you!”

“And how, pray tell, will you accomplish that?” Emmeline inquired, looking severely unimpressed.

Pettigrew straightened up under her attention and put down his fork. “Well, pretty lady. You and your friends are no doubt doomed to a truly depressing night of commiseration down in those dingy Slytherin dungeons. There, you may attempt to drown your sorrows in alcohol, but it will, to your chagrin, not be enough to soothe the bitter ache of defeat.”

“And you offer an alternative, I presume?” Emmeline drawled, raising an eyebrow.

“I do indeed! We’re throwing a rager up in Gryffindor Tower, which I bet will be way more fun. Normally, Quidditch celebrations like this are Gryffindor-only, but we have a rule that if you helped plan or set up the party, you can invite an outsider – and, bonus, that person can bring a friend so they’re not lonely or whatever.”

“So, which one of us gets an invite?” Barty asked, perking up.

“That’s the best part – all of you are invited!” The Gryffindor grinned proudly.

“Elaborate.” Regulus instructed.

“Me and the boys worked it out between us.” Pettigrew began. “Rosier, my good friend, I am inviting you, and I would bet my hat you’ll invite Crouch.”

Evan tilted his head in a small nod of acknowledgment. “You’re not wrong.”

“Baby Black, your study buddy Moony asked me to send his invite along to you, and Lestrange, Prongs is inviting you, because apparently you two are friends now? Not sure where that came from, but whatever. The point is, that you two can invite Vance and Meadowes between you. Et voilà! Your evening is saved!”

“You seem awfully certain we’ll accept.” Emmeline frowned at him.

Pettigrew shrugged at this. “To be completely honest, I don’t really care that much if you do or you don’t. I’m getting trollied either way. But I do think you would be stupid to pass – commiseration parties are never as fun.”

He wasn’t wrong and Regulus was quite sure that the moment Pettigrew had declared them all invited, his friends had already begun mentally choosing their outfits. Regulus himself certainly wasn’t going to decline – it would be a good opportunity to further his revenge plan and get to James.

“We’re in.” Barty declared, not even having to look at the rest of them.

Pettigrew smirked victoriously. “Thought so. Okay, here are the details so pay attention. We changed the password temporarily to: ‘Party time’, so you can get in with that. Party technically starts at 8 but the ankle-biting First to Third-Years will be there at that point – Prongs and Lily insisted they should get the chance to celebrate too. Don’t worry though, we’ll kick ‘em out at around 10 and that’s when the booze comes out. Come at whatever time you want. We’ll be supplying plenty of food and drink but feel free to bring your own. And if you get too pissed, we have a no snitch policy so you can just find somewhere at the Tower to pass out and stay overnight instead of braving Filch and the moving staircases and all that. Hmm… I think that’s everything. Oh! Dress code is red and gold but I don’t expect you’ll stick to that.”

“Definitely not.” Emmeline agreed with a grimace.

“Just avoid Mary, then – she’s the only one who’ll really care I reckon.” He advised, picking up his fork again.

“And Sirius? Won’t he kick up a fuss at our presence?” Regulus hedged, unsure if he really wanted to pick a fight today.

Pettigrew visibly paused, playing with his food a bit. “He might, but… Technically speaking, it’s James’s party – he organised it, he’s Quidditch Team Captain, he’s hosting… sort of. If anyone, even Pads, gets pissy it’s James they’ll have to answer to. And no-one in Gryffindor is feeling very anti-James right about now. So…”

“So, Sirius can’t really do much without pissing off Potter…” Evan filled in slowly.

“…Which would piss off the whole of Gryffindor.” Barty finished with a delighted glint in his eye. “That’s some kind of power.”

“And you know what?” Pettigrew said with a fond smile. “He never even notices.”

“That his House would go to war for him?”

The Gryffindor nodded. “Classic James.”

“Golden Boy, indeed.” Regulus commented absently.

Pettigrew snapped his fingers and pointed at Regulus as if to say ‘Exactly’ as he shovelled more food into his mouth.

Guess they were going to a Gryffindor Party.