Chapter 2
Fifteen years ago, when James’ mother ran for the House, a local newspaper gave her the name ‘Lometa Longshot’. She got out of her hometown at the ripe age of eighteen and worked night shifts at a crappy diner to put herself through law school. There she met Fleamont Potter, who she deemed the only adequate debate opponent. Nobody expected her to get very far, let alone argue discrimination cases in front of the Supreme Court before thirty, she was the last person the people of Texas expected to rise in Politics: a honey-blonde with an unapologetic smirk and a biracial family. Everyone expected her to back down following James’ birth, but she marched up to the steps of the state Capital with a briefcase in hand and James strapped to her back (metaphorically speaking of course). Of course, it wasn’t easy, but mothers everywhere seemed to admire her for the relationship she had with both James and Remus during her presidential campaign. And here they are three years later, flying privately.
So James takes every luxury he has into appreciation, even three years into his mother’s term. Lily is bent over the NewYorkTimes crossword, across from him. Beside her sits Secret Service Agent Margeret, Mary for short, doing her own copy. Remus sits next to him timing them.
James looks back at his laptop, the curser of his Roman Political Thought essay blinking at him expectedly. He closes the laptop and grabs the copy of People leaning on Remus’ armrest.
James opens it to a double-page spread titled: ROYAL WEDDING MADNESS. And laughs. “Guys,” Lily and Mary look up and Remus pauses the stopwatch. “they spent $75,000 on just the cake.”
Lily snatches the magazine out of his hands, crossword forgotten and starts to read the article. “Oh, now that’s just depressing.”Mary leans over her shoulder to read.
“Oh, apparently Prince Regulus is showing up without a date! Everyone’s freaking out about it.” Mary exclaims.
“I don’t understand why people are always so obsessed with public figures’ love lives. Especially his. He’s not even that attractive.”
Lily ignores him and adds: “It was rumored he was dating a Swedish heiress last month, but now people following his dating life don’t know what to think.”
“Maybe they finally realized he’s about as interesting as Mark Rothko’s ‘Number 207’.” James murmurs to Remus.
Remus snorts and leans towards him to whisper: “You gonna ask him to dance then, nerd?”
The thought of James in the pale arms of Regulus with his freakishly gray eyes locked into his, twirling around the room while the latter’s lips brush his ear as he whispers about croquet or whatever it is he fills his (probably) boring days with, is enough to make James’ stomach twist. He mimics gagging. “In his dreams.”
Remus pokes him in the cheek. “Aw, Jamie’s blushing.”
Lily and Mary laugh. “Look,” James says, “royal weddings are absolute trash. The princes that have them, are trash. The centuries of imperialism and elitism that allow princes to exist are trash. It’s trash turtles all the way down.”
“You do realize that America’s a genocidal empire too, right?” Lily asks.
“Of course I do, but at least we had the decency not to keep a monarchy around.” James throws a cheeze-it at her.
At the White House, there are things every new employee is briefed on. Remus’ incessant need for Chamomile tea bags and lavender honey. Alex’s obsession of lacrosse and soccer. Remus’ fling from two summers ago while he was studying abroad in France, they broke up two weeks before his semester ended, but letters addressed ‘To Moony’ are the only ones allowed to go to him directly. And lastly, James’ feud with the prince of England.
It’s not really a feud, he supposes, just a general dislike for the prince. The world decided, the moment the so-called ‘White House Trio’ hit the tabloids, that James would be the American version of Prince Regulus. Years of comparison only led to resentment. So maybe there is a little rivalry. Whatever.
“Okay, Statistics. What’re the odds for the trip?” James asks Lily.
“Hmm, ninety-eight percent chance of Prince Regulus looking like a total dreamboat,” Mary snickers and Lily shoots her an amused look, “Seventy-six percent chance of James getting himself banned from the U.K. forever,” Remus snorts, “and a one-hundred percent chance of James acting like a fool and arguing with Regulus.”
James huffs. “Well thank you, guys, for that total boost of confidence.”
“As if you needed the ego boost,” Lily says as she rolls her eyes.
James throws another cheeze-it and the plane flies on.
To say Paris is crowded would be an understatement. Crowds of people are gathered on every corner, decorated with small flags over their heads. There’s at least one stand selling royal wedding souvenirs on every street. James wonders who the target audience for a pair of underwear with Evan Rosier and Pandora Lovegood’s faces on them, but hey, to each their own.
James finds the ceremony nice enough, if not a little long. It’s not that he can’t appreciate marriage or that he isn’t into love, he watches way too many cheesy romcoms for that to be true; it’s just that Pandora wears the beautiful face of nobility and Evan’s a Prince. It’s an at least $100,000 business transaction. There’s no passion, no drama. Evan looked bored saying his vows. It’s just not exciting, and James’ kind of love has always been a little more Shakespearean.
But a few hours later, James can finally settle in at a table in a ballroom, at some palace, between Remus and Lily, and he’s a little irritated enough to be a little reckless.
Remus passes him a flute of champagne and he takes it glad-fully. “Who pissed in your cheerios?”
“I’m in a room with (probably) a majority of old racist white guys who (again probably) don't think I have a right to be here. Not the best time, if you’ll consider.” James replies, picking up a cucumber sandwich.
“Ugh, I hate them. I got at least three comments about how brave the article I posted a few weeks ago was.”
“Oof, sorry dude.”
Remus shrugs his shoulders. “At least they read it.”
“Do either of you know what a Viscount is? I’ve been asked to dance by like five of them and each time they say like it should mean something to me so each time I smile like I know what it means. James, you took international government relationship things. What is it?” Lily asks.
“I think it's that thing we're vampires create their own sex-crazed army.” He says, seriously.
“I think that's right,” Remus adds, folding his cloth napkin into a complicated shape.
“I wish I was a Viscount. I’d have my sex army deal with my emails.” Lily says, whimsically.
“Are sex armies any good at professional correspondence?” Remus’ napkin is beginning to resemble a swan.
“I think it could be interesting. Their responses would be all tragic and wanton.”
“Could be weirdly effective,” James adds.
A voice comes out from behind them. “I think it'd be quite interesting to receive an email from a sexual deviant.” James turns around to see the other English Royal Sibling, the one he actually gets on with quite well, Sirius, standing straight. Sirius speaks out in a hushed breathless voice, “Please, I beg you, take me-take me to lunch and ravish me-meats from the deluxe platter we order, on me, of course.”
Lily tosses her head back laughing. James looks at Remus, who is a little disoriented looking.
“Are you okay, Rem? You look flushed.” James asks.
“Mhm, yes, yes. I’m fine.” Remus adds, and Lily giggles.
“Good. I was just wondering if you’d care to accompany me on the dance floor?” Sirius asks, holding a hand out.
“Isn’t that...we'll isn’t that a little too crude for the majority of the audience here?” Remus asks in return.
“Eh, pardon my French here, but fuck them.” Remus swallows. “Besides, I’ve always been apt at rule-breaking.” Sirius says with a wink.
Remus stands up and nods. Sirius smiles and grabs the others' hand and leads them off.
After a few moments of watching them swirl around the dance floor, Lily leans over to James to whisper: “I think they’d make a rather lovely couple.”
James nods. “Re was so flustered it was so funny.”
“Could you imagine the controversy though? A Prince with a First Son-“
They’re interrupted suddenly by a tense-looking man, James wonders if his name is Bartholomew or Francisco, who bows before speaking. “Miss Evans,” he says, “His Royal Highness Prince Regulus wonders if you would cast him the pleasantry of accompanying him in a dance?”
Lily looks stunned, “Oh, um, yes that would be wonderful.”
“Excellent,” Francisco says and motions over his shoulder.
And right there, in the flesh, is Regulus. Classically handsome as ever in a three-piece suit colored such a dark green it looks black from a distance. All curly black hair that falls perfectly and high cheekbones and a soft, friendly mouth. His eyes lock on James’ and something spikes in James’ chest. Whatever, it’s just annoyance. They haven’t spoken in over a year, and yet Regulus’ is still infuriatingly perfect.
Regulus nods at him in acknowledgment. James blinks and watches as the prince turns his sharp chin towards Lily, outreaching a long slender hand with a signet ring poised perfectly between his third and second knuckle on his middle finger.
Lily rests her hand on his, preparing to stand up. Regulus bends down and kisses it and oh James is seething.
Regulus, still bent over, looks up at her through long eyelashes, “Good evening, Miss Evans. I hope you’re finding the reception adequate. Evan will
have a fit if you aren’t, would have a fit if any guess wasn’t really.” He finishes, standing up.
“Oh, no it’s...it’s lovely.” Regulus raises an eyebrow. “Really. We’re all having a wonderful time.”
Regulus glances over at James and smirks, “Good.” he looks back at Lily. The two make small talk for a moment or two and then Regulus asks, “Tell me, Lily, do you know how to waltz?”
“I’m sure I can figure it out.” Regulus leads her off and they pass Remus and Sirius coming back toward the table.
“Is this his final move? Courting Lily?” He asks Remus as soon as he sits.
Remus sighs and Sirius throws his head back laughing. “Oh you have no clue about anything do you?”
James tilts his head in confusion.
"Not everything he does is about you and this stupid rivalry you’ve got going on. You’re not the sun James.” Remus says, grabbing a finger sandwich.
“Do you think he actually likes her though?” James asks. He thinks back to Remus and Sirius swaying around the room in an animate conversation, and then his eyes flicker towards Regulus, watching him rotate himself and Lily around the floor.
They’re making polite conversation, or maybe they’re actually talking about something with meaning, but Regulus keeps looking over her shoulder in the direction of their table. James thinks that the prince of England could not be ruder. Lily is an amazing girl, the least he could do is pay attention to her.
“I don't know, royals are weird dude.” Remus replies at the same time Sirius says, “He might think he does, but he doesn’t.”
Remus and Sirius turn to look at each other, “You think I’m weird?” the latter asks.
Remus flushes, “All of us are.” He’s silent before speaking up again. “I like weird.” He shrugs and then the realization of what he said creeps up and he stutters out “I mean...that’s not what I...James! James is weird! I’m weird! We’re all weird! It’s fine!”
Sirius laughs, but he stops abruptly when he sees Regulus and Lily approaching the table. “Well, that’s my cue to go.” He rests a hand on Remus’ shoulder and James has a feeling a lot more is being said than what he’s hearing. “It was nice to meet you James, and nice to see you as always Remus.” Remus looks at him in surprise and Jame smirks.
James starts repeatedly poking Remus in the arm, Lily catches sight of this and pulls Regulus away from her table. Thank God for her quick thinking. He watches Sirius leaves and then turns to Remus when he’s out of earshot. “He so likes you.”
“Oh shut up! Don't you have to obsess over what his younger brother's intentions with Lily are?” Remus retorts with a glare.
“Nah, Lily can take care of herself.” James looks to where she’s conversing animatedly with an older man. Regulus, standing beside her, probably have had introduced them, with stiff posture and fingers fiddling with one of his rings.
James has never admitted this to anyone- will never admit it, it’s a secret he’ll take to the grave- but he saw Regulus for the first time in one of the magazines Remus’ mom bought him before he had moved in with the Potters.
Of course, James had probably seen him on television before, or perhaps in a magazine in a grocery store while shopping with his mom, but he was thirteen the first time he saw him. It was a trashy teen magazine that had posters stapled in the middle and if you were careful enough removing the staples with your fingernails, you could get the posters out without tearing them. One of them was a picture of a boy.
He had thick black hair, that had a blue shine from the ink and gloss of the magazine and gray eyes that James thought he could see stars in. His smile looked so genuine that James figured it had to have been candid and in the lower right-hand corner pink and blue letters read: Prince Regulus.
James isn’t sure why he kept going back to the photo, but he did. He ran his fingers over the photo, over Regulus’ hair like maybe if he did it enough he could feel Regulus’ smooth hair on his fingertips. The more his mother rose in political rank, the more James thought that maybe one day he could be Regulus, maybe he could meet him.
(James thought about prying the staples open and taking the photo often, but he never did. His fingers were too stubby and his fingernails too short. They weren’t made for it like Lily’s, like a girls.)
And then James met him. The pretty, kind boy on the page turned into a beautiful boring, distant man and James couldn’t believe he had ever wanted to be anything like him.
James keeps drinking. And drinking. And dancing with beautiful European women with titles and thinking about that photo. And then forcing himself not to think about it in between flutes of champagne.
Throughout the night James has slowly made his way toward the table holding refreshments and the $75,000 cake everyone seems to be in awe of. He glances out of his peripheral and noticed a figure. He turns his head and it’s just his luck that he’s happened to stand directly next to Regulus. Regulus is watching Prince Evan and his now-wife dance with a smile, and James wants to wipe it off of his face so he turns and opens his mouth. And oh, what a stupid move that is.
“When you have one of these,” James starts, “you should have two Champagne fountains instead of only one. Truly embarrassing to throw a wedding with only one Champagne fountain.”
Regulus turns to him stiffly. “I was wondering if I’d have the pleasure tonight. Good evening James.”
“Guess it’s your lucky night,” James replies with a smirk.
“Truly a momentous occasion.” Regulus returns, his smile wide and perfectly white, but James can tell by the way his eyes remain the same that it’s obviously fake.
James determines that Regulus is too perfect. James wants to ruin him.
“Don’t you ever get tired of pretending?” James asks.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, James.”
“Acting like you're too important to be at events like this. Like you’re better than it. Doesn’t it get exhausting?”
“I’m ah.. a little more complex than that James.”
“Ha.”
Regulus narrows his eyes, “Oh. You’re drunk.”
“And you’re a fraud,” James remarks.
Regulus grabs a glass of water off of a nearby waiter’s tray and hands it to him. “I think you should consider switching to water.”
James attempts to widen his eyes, to look angelic and innocent. “Should I?” He looks at the prince playfully, “Am I offending you? I’m sorry I’m not obsessed with you like everyone else.”
Regulus’ face goes cold and he leans into James’ side to whisper in his ear. “You know? I think you are. I mean, after all, you are the one who approached me.”
James' mouth drops open and Regulus starts to pull away with a smirk.
“Enjoy your water and the rest of your evening, James. I truly hope it's everything you thought it would be.” Regulus says as he starts to walk away.
James absolutely despises that Regulus thinks he can just leave like that. Without really thinking about what he’s doing, James reaches out to pull on the prince's shoulder. When he turns around, Regulus pushes him slightly back, but then James trips over his foot, and oh no. He’s falling. Directly into the table with the 8 tier, $75,000 cakes.
He grabs Regulus’ arm to balance himself and the prince's eyes widen in horror as he's suddenly pulled backward. And then they’re falling together, crashing into the cake stand and sending the cake, that’s had numerous articles written about it, to the floor.
He looks around them, buttercream and cake are spread across the floor and the room is silent. Regulus’ glass of Champagne and James’ glass of water has spilt over both of them and shattered on the floor. James can see a small cut on Regulus’ cheek starting to bleed. For a moment he’s glad that the biggest story from tonight won't be Regulus and Lily dancing together. But then he thinks that his mom is going to bloody murder him.
Beside him, Regulus whispers, “Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Fuckyou, James Potter.”
He’s too busy reeling over the realization that that's the first time he’s ever heard the prince curse to register a camera flashing.