Chapter 2
- A few hours before -
James can't sleep. The canopy curtains are closed and no noise radiates into the room, other than his breathing. He is immersed in complete silence, in complete tranquillity, yet he cannot sleep.
It's been since that same afternoon that James can't stop smiling. Since he saw Regulus. His head keeps restarting the tape of their conversation, looping. Each time the Gryffindor notices a different, new detail. Potter loves to observe the Slytherin, even if only through his memories, which gradually begin to fade.
And then, Regulus is helping him. James will finally be able to prove to Lily that he is fine, that he has moved on, that she must not feel guilty.
He leans out once again with his face out of bed, leveraging her forearms. He carefully grabs his glasses - attentive not to make too much noise - and checks the watch once again. Five o'clock. Is it too early to get up? James doesn't know. He usually gets up barely thirty minutes before the start of classes.
Does it matter in the end? The boy wants to get up. He needs to free his mind.
He shoots on his feet, completely forgetting about the years that the castle carries like a weight on his shoulders. The bed squeaks and the floor beams join them. Yes, it forms a strange, squeaky melody that are perfectly in sync. James ignores them and heads at a fast pace to the bathroom, changing calmly. He even has time to tie his tie well, while looking in the mirror, which disturbs him a little. He usually arrives in class with his shoes still to be fastened, his hair dishevelled, his glasses crooked on his nose and his tie dangling on his shoulders. Sometimes he even has his lips stained with jam. He is not used to all this calm.
He comes out of the bathroom at a stretchy pace, sneaking out of the dormitory. Silence reigns in the school, even the figures in the paintings hanging on the walls are still dozing. James takes care not to wake them up, as he calmly descends the cold stone stairs. He remembers his first year at Hogwarts, when the head chef kindly mentioned to him that they like to change.
He doesn't exactly remember the boy's name, yet he is still mindful of his melodic voice and the splash of freckles that propped up his pale face, coppery hair. He finds himself taking a journey into the past, retracing the stupid excuses he used only to get his attention. However, every time he only gave him a warm, crystalline laugh, helping him to perform even the most futile of tasks, such as straightening his glasses on his nose. Then, at the exact moment James had met Lily, the passion for that young man had completely passed him, remaining shelved in a remote part of his brain until... Well, until now.
Now the Gryffindor is in the corridors, tempted to go out to fly a little. He takes a look at the multicoloured windows, where murky clouds stand out in the sky, and already the call is thinning. But after all it's still early and James can find time for a walk.
The icy air of late October lashes in his face as soon as he sets foot on the frosty grass, the flamboyant red sweater suddenly became a not powerful enough protector. However, Potter does not care, continuing his advance with a fast pace and a confident look. Even nature is still asleep. A livid dawn rises in the sky, lifeless trees branch out in the plumbee clouds. James is not particularly attracted to it, to be honest. He always preferred summer: hot, bright; just like him.
He still gives himself a few precious seconds of tranquillity, before diverting to the Great Hall. When he enters it he is surprised by how impressive he appears now, stripped of the kind giggles of the students. Only a few Hufflepuff sit at a table, focussed on a game of chess. At the back of the room, a young Ravenclaw with amber hair is very focussed on a book that, from the somewhat old binding, seems to come from careful research in the library.
James heads to his table, nervously tapping his hand on the shiny wood, waiting.
About fifteen minutes pass before an additional face peeps out of the shadow of the large castle. Gryffindor's eyes are immediately on him. Regulus. Think Potter, as he carefully observes the crow’s sharp, youthful features. James finds himself for the first time in his life admiring the gloomy beauty of young Black. It has two purplish dark circles that contrast with the pale complexion of the skin and somehow make it even more regal and fragile.
‘Morning, Potter.’ he murmurs detached and James struggles to take his eyes off him. To Godric, it will be looking like a fucking boiled fish.
‘Good morning, love.’ He redeems himself, winking at him as a laugh escapes from his lips like smoke. Regulus stares at him absently, the glassy eyes looking at him carefully below the long black eyelashes.
‘Why good morning?’ the younger then asks the older, the raven curls neatly placed behind his ears. James resists the impulse to stroke them.
‘I wanted to see you.’ He admits, because deep down it's the truth. Regulus appears surprised. He recomposes in a hurry, his shoulders straight as he hurries to speak.
‘Oh, do you have to tell me something?’ Question, and James can't help but slide his gaze over the young man's rosy, thin lips. An unknown feeling pervades him and moved by the impetus he finds himself talking.
‘Is it worth a kiss from you?’ He asks for the boy’s permission and the expression on Regulus's face hardens. Nerves flicker on his face as he pales, words dying on the tip of his tongue.
‘Regulus.’ James said hesitantly, looking Regulus directly in his eyes now. ‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks again, more cautious this time. The Slytherin nods and in a moment their lips collide.
Regulus' mouth is cold in contact with his and James takes care to be kind, because he certainly doesn't want to intimidate him.
Black is motionless, the marble lips brush against his in a tacit promise. I'll be waiting for you. James doesn't speak their language though, not yet.
Given the young man's apparent perplexity, Potter decides to walk away. 'So, love. Did you sleep well?" James doesn't care how much he appreciates hearing that word slip from his lips, shoring his eyes into those of Slytherin's and enjoying the imprint of the passage of the young man's lips on his own.
‘Mhm.’ Regulus nods softly, his eyes still half-closed. And James doesn't know why, he actually doesn't even know exactly when it happened, but his lips are on Slytherin's again, now.
It's a few seconds before Black decides to respond to the kiss, barely open his lips. And Potter can’t help but make cheesy comparisons like: his lips are like rose buds in the early days of spring, when the snow still lies white on the ground below. But Regulus' mouth is all too beautiful to kiss and, really, it's not his fault. In fact, it's his brain that went haywire.
Slytherin is the first to move away, his purple cheeks and eyes become two placid and comfortable lakes.
‘Excuse me.’ he is quick to say James. ‘I should have asked for permission.’
-
When Remus, Peter and Sirius arrive, Regulus has long since left. Potter stared at him more than once, on the other side of the hall, as he waited for his gang to arrive.
“Morning Prongs,” The three sit in unison, observing James with an inquiring eye.
‘‘So tell us, why did you wake up so early?’ Remus asks, starting to fill the plate with whatever goodness you want. In fact, the full moon is just a few days away and Lupin has every right to be hungry, James notes.
"Did you make a prank without us, James? Let's see... mhm, shit bomb in the Slytherin beds?" Sirius' investigation continues, as he brings a lock of raven hair back. His pearly chest shines through the warm lights that flood the hall. Sirius has always had a habit of keeping his first three shirt buttons undone. Which - according to James - attracts all of Remus' interest.
‘No, too trivial.’ Peter looks at him sly, buttering his bread with his chubby hands. ‘You know... I heard some rumours, James.’ Potter swallows with difficulty. ‘Would you like to explain this to yourself, or do I have to do it?’ Pettigrew's is not a question, the boy knows it well.
So is the time?
‘Good.’ James sighs heartbroken, adjusting his glasses on his nose. ‘There is one thing you all need to know.’ The Gryffindor pauses and in a moment his brilliant idea no longer appears so brilliant to him.
‘Go ahead.’ Moony is pressing on him, his eyes kind. Because Remus has an attentive eye and surely realised that something is wrong.
‘Sirius, do you promise not to beat me?’ James asks, biting his slice of well-buttered bread and jam.
‘Unless you got involved with my brother, James, there's no chance I'll beat you.’ Black reassures him. Or at least, that's his intention. The silence that follows gets more tense with each passing second, so much so that Potter is sure he can cut the air with his butter knife, now.
‘You didn't get involved with my brother, did you Prongs?’ Sirius asks, suddenly pale.
‘Prongs?’ He murmurs, his eyes wide open.
‘Well, here... not exactly.’ He finally contests James.
‘Oh, fuck you!’ Had it not been for Remus, who now holds Sirius firmly for his life (or rather, James’ life) , the boy would have already jumped on him.
'Wait- wait. Let me explain.”
‘Explain, go ahead.’ Sirius is no longer trying to jump down his throat, now, but Moony still holds him, his grip maybe a little loose. Just for safety, you know. It's the look he looks at him.
‘Regulus and I are together, technically, but it’s not real.’ James says and if he wasn't in a really -really- bad situation now, he would burst out laughing. Because the look that the three boys look at him is just ridiculous and exasperating at the same time.
‘Come again?’ Sirius' voice is about an octave higher than normal when he speaks, his face a little hot because Moony's arms are still there, that kind ones encircle his waist.
‘Well... I mean, I did it for Lily.’
‘For Lily?’ Sirius almost screams and some first and second year boys turn to them.
‘Shut up Padfoot.’ Peter recalls him, noticeably more interested in James' story, than in Black's stupid dramatic outings. When the latter is about to counter inviperitum, it is Remus who stops it.
‘Let him talk, Sirius.’ He says softly, turning the raven's face towards him. When they both notice the proximity of their faces, they snap away. Remus' arms finally drop Sirius's life, as they both blush.
‘Well, go ahead, Potter.’ Black says sour, better adjusting his shirt sleeves.
'Here, this is the fact. I want to make Lily understand that she no longer has to feel guilty about the fact that our relationship was not successful e-"
‘And so you decided to ask my brother if he can be your boyfriend?’ Sirius grinds, being promptly cautioned by Remus, who recalls him in a gentle, but firm tone.
"Yes, I asked him to be my fake boyfriend, okay? I know it may sound stupid, ma-“
‘It is.’ Peter murmurs, grabbing another slice of bread from the vast pile.
'Okay, okay. Can you just make me finish talking, please?" Exasperated question. When the other three nod, Potter goes on. ‘First of all, you don't have to tell anyone and I repeat anyone, that this story is a bluff, you know?’ James takes care to keep his tone of voice low, as he speaks, as opposed to that stoned Sirius.
‘But how long do you plan for it to last, Prongs?’ He asks, banging his hands on the hardwood of the table. Dramatic, as usual. Potter is no longer too worried.
'I don't know, a few months or so. I still have to talk to him about it. Now, let me go on once and for all.” James runs a hand through his hair, enjoying that brief quiet moment. 'This thing won't last long, okay? It's just a way to make Lily realise that I've passed by and that she doesn't have to look at me like I've just been punched every time she sees me."
'You know James, I know it's shocking, but not all the world revolves around you. Lily definitely doesn't." Sirius continues angry, eyes two blades of ice.
Ouch. It's the only thing that echos in Potter's head.
Ouch, Ouch, Ouch.
And okay, Sirius is angry, but James can't deny that it's painful anyway, fucking much.
You are exaggerating. Yes he says, the shadow of the smile that until just before was on his lips is slowly fading, as he tries to calm down.
You are exaggerating. You are exaggerating. You are exaggerating.
"Oh I know, in fact it's the whole universe that revolves around me. I mean, look at me." James fakes a laugh, a crack in his eyes as he lowers his head.
You're exaggerating asshole. It is said again, because it has to stop it. Must. Do it. Quit. That stupid child who is still trying to rebel against his stance.
You're the funny friend James, it's Sirius the dramatic one.
‘Oh fuck you.’ he hears murmuring from the raven, but his head is lost elsewhere.
Yes, fuck you James.