Chapter 1
‘I have a proposal for you.’ Regulus snaps backwards, his back banging against the cold stone of the column. James. His brain spits it out like this: hurried, hot. Because by now he has learned so well every inclination of the Gryffindor's voice, that he doesn't even need to think about it. It's James, he just knows it.
"For Salazar, Potter. What do you want?" Regulus strives to keep the tone of his voice flat, his face inscrutable as he lets his gaze slip onto the boy in front of him.
'I've already told you. I have a proposal for you.” The young man repeats convinced, with placid eyes and a kind smile digging his cheeks. The Slytherin is forced to shift his gaze from his face, move as far away from him as possible. Because James all together is just too much to take at once and he, he really can't do it.
‘I'm waiting.’ Regulus says coldly.
‘Well, um... I don't really know how to say it, but... you know um... yes, I mean... you know no that I e-’ James gets lost in his own words, scratching his neck as he is caught off guard by a wave of embarrassment.
‘Potter’ admonishes Regulus, laying his sharp gaze on him. And James rushes to talk because... well, because Regulus is rushing him. And he really didn't mean... in short, his brain doesn't even record his words before they are released through his mouth. And James, James really didn't mean it.
‘Do you want to be my boyfriend?’ He asks convinced, the eyes faltering in the exact moment he realises he said it. And -for Godric- Regulus is staring at him horrified. James doesn't know what to say. Fuck, his brain screwed him over again.
‘What?’ It's a faint sound that Black emits, falters softly between the two boys, dancing between them like a yellowed leaf in the middle of autumn. And -cazzo- his tone of voice is much lower than he wants to admit. Regulus is terrified, completely. Why- why what the fuck is going on? It is not possible. It's not fucking possible.
"I... here... I am, uhm, I'm sorry." murmurs Potter, his cheeks bright red. Regulus is upset. And - honestly - he's not understanding anything at all.
‘And what did you do wrong to express yourself, exactly?’ His voice no longer falters, in fact, he is almost sure that it sounded quite authoritative. He can almost be proud of it. Almost.
"I... um, I don't want to be your boyfriend. In the sense: yes, but not for real. You follow me, don't you? You know what I mean. In short...» James sputter, and -fuck- why is it so hard to talk now? He had organised everything, every single syllable.
‘James.’ Slytherin still admonishes him. Harder this time, stronger. The boy recomposes himself.
'Right, right. Um... do you want to be my fake boyfriend?" He proposes Potter again, this time a little more convinced. And Regulus -really- is not that he did it on purpose, but he... he can't stop laughing. Hysterically, I dare say. Eyes wide open and lips trembling.
‘Excuse me?’ Question, sincerely, deeply shocked. And confused, above all.
"Well, here it is... Now I'll explain. You know that Lily and I broke up about, um... three months ago, right?" Regulus nods briefly, not yet following the thread of speech. ‘Here- you know since then Lily has always felt guilty, as if it was her fault, the fact that it didn't work out between us.’
‘And what would that have to do with me, exactly?’ Slytherin spits acid, horrified at how honeyed the boy can be. Jealous. he tattoos in his head even before he can, in fact, rebel. Because, well, it is. He is jealous Really a lot, too much.
"This is where you come in, little Black. Well, of course: if you accept. I would never do anything like that without your consent." Regulus' eyes visibly soften after that statement. There was something in James' voice. Like... a protective motion. James wants to let him know that he can trust him; that he is protected, with him. It's oh, Regulus loves him, he loves him so much that in the end, well... he hates him.
(Oh... I hate that man! I hate that man.!
But oh... cara mia, how I love him.)
‘Go ahead.’ he murmurs detachedly, disloofing all those outrageries with a futile hand gesture. The Gryffindor nods vigourously, the dark curls bouncing on his white forehead: "You see, I want to make it clear to Lily that I've passed by. Because you know: that's it. But I want her to understand that too. I don't want him to feel guilty, I would never forgive myself. Especially because I... I don't love her anymore."
I love you.
I love you.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Black's brain can't formulate anything else. He is electrocuted. He is in love. And Regulus hates it.
‘And what can I draw from all this?’ Question, why can't he allow his heart to beat so fast, damn it. He can't. He can't even imagine James' lips kissing him gently and he certainly can't imagine the taste of them as they gently brush his. And there are only the two of them ... Oh, well, there's actually the whole school.
He can't. He can't. He can't. Because it hurts, so much, too much. Everything is too much with James Potter.
‘Obviously I thought about that too, love.’ James chuckles, winking at him. Regulus is dying. He's fucking dying.
‘Then, in the meantime, I would be a perfect fake boyfriend.’
‘Ah yes?’
'Of course. I would shower you with gifts."
'I hate gifts. No one ever really gives me something I like and I hate pretending I like something.”
‘Well, I would give you the best gifts in the world.’
‘Really?’ James nods.
‘And then: I'm funny.’ Regulus can't counter this, but it has to. His pride is at stake.
‘Ah really?’ He then says, a sardonic smile entangled on the rosy curve of his lips. He's doing it on purpose, but at least it seems to work.
'Really. And then, well... I would make you feel loved.” Potter blushes, slightly embarrassed. Regulus is dying, again.
"Who tells you that I want to feel loved? I love loneliness and everything it entails.” He says convinced. Liar.
'Everyone wants some love. You too, Regulus “ice heart” Black. And I am very, very loving.”
Potter falters when the youngest doesn't seem to answer. His eyes are cracking. Only a slight crack, a small crack, but it's there, clearly visible. Why, well... James, after all, was a little hoping for it. And then...
‘I'm in.’Says Slytherin. And when the boy's face lights up as much as the sun, Regulus knows it's worth it.
-
It's definitely not worth it. It's the first thing Regulus ascertains, that same evening, when he throws himself on the exhausted bed. He's sleepy, but he's forced to make a list of reasons why it's not worth it. The fact is this: tomorrow he will have to go and talk to James, break his dreams by telling him that he doesn't want to do it anymore and he's not sure he can do it firmly if... well, if he doesn't have a well-prepared plan to follow. Then he starts looking for reasons why he shouldn't date James Potter. Pretend, Regulus wants to set it clear.
Salazar, he feels so stupid.
1. James' mouth is too beautiful. How is he going to kiss James well, make him look real, if the only thing he can think of is the beauty of the boy's lips; the little furrows that break that semblance of perfectly smooth skin that Regulus has looked at far too many times?
2. His hair is too soft. Again, how is he going to be credible when he kisses him if the only thing he can think of is the softness of his hair; how much he wants, touch it, pull it and tighten it?
3. He’s too tall. How will Regulus kiss him well if he will always have to tiptoe? Or, well, James might stoop, but no. He won't win it to him because he's already struggled too hard to find those three points and he won't give him one just because there is a solution.
4. Regulus would suffer too much, at the end of it all. In short, who wouldn't suffer at least a little to be left by James Potter, even if it was all fiction?
Regulus pushes his face into the pillow when he realises that only one of those four points is valid, but that the only valid one is too private to be revealed to the boy anyway. That's because he can't just go there and tell him that he's loved him since he was eleven. He can't.
Oh- Regulus is fucked. He will have to go with James
Potter.
By feint. It reminds him of his annoying brain.
Fuck You.
It's the last thing he thinks before he falls asleep.
-
Regulus absolutely doesn't want to get up that morning. In fact, he would rather drown than get up that morning.
Yes he reluctantly forces to take his blankets off his torso, while he pushes his face against the pillow and almost growls because, really, he can't do it.
One last subdued sigh, then he gets up. It doesn't take him long to get dressed -in the usual old uniform-, brush his teeth and walk into the corridors of the immense Hogwarts. He doesn't wait for his dorm companions to get up. In fact, he doesn't want to see them. Because, again, he can't do it, not today.
Keep walking.
Silence looms over him like a lion stinging his prey and Regulus makes an effort, he really does. Because he can't, not today, not now, not when he's afraid, not when he's already so bad. He shakes his hands at the sides of his head until he suppresses that constant silence that wants to kill him. Because Regulus can't think. Not today, not now.
And he doesn't know why he's actually sick, because no threatening letters came from his mother, nor did his father appear in his dreams, but, simply, today is a bad day. End. Period. It's a disgusting day.
It sucks so much that Regulus would like to curl up in a corner and cry, like when he was a kid and was forced to stare at his mother torture Sirius. Undenamed in front of her, guilty.
But no, that's enough. The Slytherin increases his pace. Only the sound of his feet banging against the cold marble of the floor keeps him company, as he makes his way to the Great Hall. And Regulus feels cold. Damn, stupid cold; because he's so distracted that he forgot his sweater.
He still picks up the pace, the slimy voices inside his head trying to drag him into the abyss. No, not this time. Not this time, please. Think, as he finally enters the damn Great Hall, all eyes are on him. Not that many people are already awake at this hour. But Regulus knows, he clearly perceives the amber eyes that scrutinise him from the back of the hall. And - reluctantly - he heads towards them, ignoring everyone else. Because Sirius and the other two idiots that are always with him are not there yet and he ... Well, it will have to start somewhere.
‘Good morning, Potter.’ he murmurs, sitting next to the boy on the bench. James' eyes are immediately in his: ferocious, hungry. Regulus doesn't know how long he can hold out.
‘Good morning, love.’ He reciprocates the Gryffindor cunningly and -for Salazar- his stomach shouldn't go into turmoil over something so little. It shouldn't, but it does. Black inhales softly, looking for something to hold on to, because right now the oblivion he's being dragged into has a first and last name and he has to assert himself.
‘Why are you up so early this morning?’ He questions and James seems surprised. Of course he's surprised, because Regulus shouldn't know so well that Potter usually gets up maybe barely half an hour before classes start. He shouldn't, but he knows it.
‘I wanted to see you.’ The words flow so fluidly from the Gryffindor's lips that Black almost believes it. He is pretending. He's just a good actor. He says so until the small, excited 13-year-old Regulus becomes manageable, in the back of his brain.
‘Oh, do you have to tell me something?’ James' gaze is warm, scorching on him and Slytherin really has to focus to be able to formulate a meaningful phrase. Hot, hot, hot. It's the only thing he feels, that he feels, now.
‘Is wanting to kiss you enough?’ Questions Potter and -for Salazar-why is he so good at lying? Regulus almost falls for it, because James is so gentle and soft against him that anyone would fall for it. Anyone apart from himself, apparently. This becomes a small personal victory of his.
It's the time of a fraction of a second and Black realises what the boy in front of him actually asked him. To say that he didn't expect it is an understatement. And yes, yes please kiss me.
Regulus doesn't say it though, his mouth remains ajar and dry. The eyes are intimidated. His head is spinning and really he- he is unable to think now.
‘Regulus’ James recalls him, needy. ‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks, and for a second, Black goes haywire.
It's all so fast, so fast that Slytherin doesn't even realise he ever nodded and now James' lips are on his, warm, passionate. Because James is the sun and Regulus is Icarus. Regulus is melting.
Please don't pretend. Think the raven, before his brain goes into total black-out.
The kiss is moist and loving, Gryffindor's lips gently press against his: nothing annoying, nothing too intrusive, no matter how strange it may sound.
Potter is delicate, he is alert, he is attentive, as if Regulus is the most fragile object that ever existed and James has it there, right in his hands; as if he was just touching it at his fingertips.
Then, all of a sudden, the boy walks away and Black immediately feels cold. All the heat radiated into him up to that moment vanishes and, finally, he realises what really happened.
James Potter just kissed him, right there, in front of everyone.