the birth of the sun
James Potter was the son of Euphemia, Goddess of poetry and music, medicine and prophecy, plague and truth. But most importantly, she was the Goddess of the sun.
Every morning, James would watch his mother soar on a beautiful chariot and light the sky up in a way that no one else had done before. She was a spectacle for him. His birth had happened at Mount Olympus, and it had only proved to him that his mother was the kindest soul to ever exist.
Surely, he was biassed. But from the stories he had heard about the other Gods only left him proof that his bias was rightly aimed.
Take the Goddess of war and wisdom Minerva into account. She was a wonderful woman, or so he had heard. Her cunning and wits were to thank for the ending of many gruesome wars. But at the same time, her anger and her ruthlessness were the cause of just as many conflicts.
Riddle, the God of lightning and the King of Olympus, was arrogant and threatening. He was possibly the origin of the god complex, both physically and metaphorically. His jealousy would curse the skies with thunder and curse his people with consequences they did not deserve.
Yes, James was quite sure that Euphemia was the best.
Since he was old enough to understand, she had called him her sun. He was the thing her world revolved around. James was too young to fully get the gravity of those words. His mother, who lit up the world, was relying on him to light up her. For anyone else, that would have been a taxing responsibility. James, on the other hand, took it with pleasure.
Even though she was a Goddess, Euphemia did not ask for much. She asked for respect and she asked for joy and she asked for love. James supplies every single day.
When he turned seven, his mother was bouncing him on her knee, subconsciously humming one of her favourite lullabies. Halfway through the song, with James on the verge of sleep, Euphemia’s face lit up.
“Jamsie, do you like music?” she asked.
Young James pouted. “Of course I do!” he replied enthusiastically, earning a chuckle from his mother.
“Could you do me a favour, then, sunflower?” He nodded in reply. “I would like to teach you to play the lyre. It’s a wonderful instrument, and it makes sounds so beautiful that you are irrevocably captivated.”
“Like an un-evil siren song?” James’ eyes were broad and curious.
“The siren song is not always used for evil, but that’s something too complicated for you to learn at your age.”
“Mom, I want to know!”
Euphemia sighed, not in resignation but instead in delight. Her son was too much like her for his own good. Yet it filled her soul with pride every time she looked at him. “You know what?” she asked, voice laced with fake surprise. “I think you’re right. It is like an unevil siren song. How’d you know, sunflower?”
James giggled. “I’m the son of the Goddess of Music,” he replied, with too much matter-of-fact for a seven year old boy. “Mom, you really should know your material. Otherwise I might have to take over for you.”
Euphemia leaned over and kissed his forehead, smiling. “You learn how to play the lyre and you can take over any time, sunflower.”
What the Goddess didn’t rely on was James becoming obsessed with the lyre. He breathed the vibration of the plucked chords and his heart adjusted its thumping to the melody. He mastered it in under a week, quickly moving to his mother’s music room in search of another instrument to learn.
He spent the following years of his life living in the music. James hadn’t made many friends, which meant that he hadn’t found any distractions. As his mother’s schedule got busier, so did James’ need to impress her. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be.
One fateful evening, he found himself thrumming the delicate strings of his favourite instrument to this day, the lyre. He had positioned himself against a big boulder in the middle of an unknown forest. Through the trees, the sun was shining on him, allowing him to believe the possibility that his mother had continued to look out for him.
He played some of her favourite songs, never messing up, until he reached a wedding march. Those weren’t usually played on lyres, but James didn’t care. He poured every nuance inside him, every acre of love into playing that piece for the invisible audience in front of him. His mind latched on to the melody, removing everything else from the equation. It was him and the thing he treasured most in the world and no one else.
He mourned the love between his mother and his late father, whom he’d only heard stories about. It was a tragedy, truly, but if Euphemia could persist through losing her lover, then James could deal with losing a father he’d never met.
Although he assumed he was on his own, soon it became very clear to him that he was not. With a single glance up, James was met with a boy—young, or at least he looked it. He had jet black hair all the way to his shoulders, messy yet perfectly framing his face. He was leaning against a tree, smiling and tapping his foot with the rhythm.
“That’s my favourite wedding match,” he told him. “Where did you learn to play it that well? On a lyre, of all things?”
“My mother is Euphemia, Goddess of Sun and Music,” he said, somehow shy and proud at the same time. When James had said that, the other boy’s eyes had lit up.
“You’re Effie’s youngest son,” he stated, visibly solving whatever puzzle was in his head. “Yeah I’ve heard about you. I’m Sirius, God of Marriage. Boring, I know, but it’s a hoot sometimes.” Sirius had his arm stretched out.
James happily shook it, returning the gesture and telling Sirius his name. They continue idle chatter until Sirius and James both have to get going. Overall, James learned a lot about his new friend. He had a younger brother—well, technically half-brother—but since they’d been so close in age their relationship was the strongest. James knew for sure that Sirius had told him whose child he is, but James had never been good with names, and he realised too late in the conversation that he was in fact confused. So he remained silent.
But he felt like he knew Sirius. Maybe he even considered him a friend. They grew closer with the passing of time. At around the same time every evening, James would set out into the forest with his lyre. He’d find a nice and quiet spot and play Sirius the wedding march. Until the sun set, the two of them would talk about everything and nothing at all. Apart from his mother, Sirius was the person he’d trust with anything. He had quickly risen to the position. Being best friends with Sirius was easy, since James blindly placed his trust and Sirius received it, eyes wide open. There were moments during their friendship that James felt something crawling on his back, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
He had always been afraid of spiders. Sitting in the forest with Sirius, surrounded by thousands of them, it didn’t feel like fear at all. It felt like a sheep in wolf’s clothing, if anything else. Like one of those small dogs that knew it had no strength so it used its voice to scare off the bigger dogs around it. There could have been ten spiders on him, but he had no anxiety in his demeanour. Sirius was good for him.
It was weeks later that James met Regulus. It wasn’t on purpose. Sirius had had somewhere to be that evening and had forgotten to tell James the day before, so he sent his younger brother as the messenger. Clearly, Regulus wasn’t ecstatic to be there.
“You must be Regulus,” James said, observing the similarities between Regulus and his older brother. They had the same black hair and the same starry eyes. Although it did feel as if Sirius’ eyes were so starry because of the life he led, while Regulus’ were starry despite. James didn’t know which one he respected more.
“Who else would I be?” he replied, tone bitter. Oh he is very different from Sirius, James thought. He wasn’t quite sure if that was a good thing or not. It was very difficult to be like Sirius after all. Sirius is a very unique type of person, and acquired taste. Not for all, but for a specific group of people that don’t mind dramatic hairflips and long, interesting stories.
Instead of returning the gesture and speaking sharply, James gave Regulus a sincere smile, kicking his feet around. “What brings you here?” he asked, genuinely curious. The other boy sort of shrugged, at first.
“My brother wanted me to tell you that he wouldn’t be able to make it tonight,” he stated, still standing awkwardly and idly.
James chuckled under his breath. “I gathered that from his lack of presence, yes.”
Regulus crossed his arms, annoyance flashing in his pretty eyes. He didn’t know why, but James liked him already. They stood in awkward silence, neither saying anything. The only sounds were James’ restless legs against the fallen leaves and his light whistling. Regulus’ looked around the forest, purposefully not looking towards James. It was new to him–being disliked–but James found himself liking Regulus’ distaste toward him. Afterall, he didn’t know too many people, so any new feelings toward him were easily welcomed.
“Do you want to sit with me?” James asked out of the blue. Regulus’ eyes went wide for a second before he sharpened them and stared, confused. It made James laugh. “I’m good company, I promise.”
That comment earned a playful snort from Regulus. “Who told you that, your mum?” James wasn’t really used to that much sarcasm, so it was difficult for him to formulate a reply. He landed on a soft, broad smile.
“Yeah, she did, to be honest,” he said. “Your brother did too.”
Regulus cocked his head. “You’ll have to forgive me for not trusting the judgement of my brother,” he remarked.
“You’re forgiven.”
For the first time, the two of them made eye contact and James swore he could spot a small smile playing on the other boy’s lips. He really did wish Regulus would smile. It would make him feel much better.
“If you don’t want to sit here, we can go to the town nearby,” he offered, getting up. “I haven’t been before but if that would be more fun then we can do that. Or we can sit here and I can play my lyre and we can talk like I do with your brother. Whatever you want, really.” James didn’t realise how much closer to Regulus he had walked during his little speech. He was waiting, silently and anxiously, to see if he would get rejected or not. It wouldn’t come as a shock if he did. Sirius’ brother was nothing like him. He was rude from the start, even when James didn’t give him a reason to be. He was teasing and he was too pretty for James to ignore it, like he should’ve.
“Alright, let’s go.”
Three words and James is in love. How stupid. Regulus was the third person he had met. His whole life he had spent with his mother or with his instruments. Then he met Sirius, and it was always the same story. Or the same version of it. Regulus was the first unpredictable person. James promised to himself that as long as Regulus remained unpredictable, he would love him.
Love was a difficult word for many, but not for James. He’d spent his whole life being loved. Love felt like music from his lyre. It felt like that Wedding March that everyone had adored so much. It felt vibrant and it felt heavy and it felt everlasting. It stung his fingers–much like Regulus stung whatever ego he had with his sharp tongue.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“I think I love you.”
“What are you talking about? You only just met me.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m quite sure I love you, Regulus.”
…
James was quite sure he hated Regulus. The entire time they were walking through the forest, searching for the nearest town, he had tried to hold the other boy’s hand. Regulus never let him. He would roll his eyes and shove his hands in his pockets, causing James to pout until his next attempt. Why didn’t he want to hold his hand? James was charming and funny and kind and in love with him.
At one point during their long–and seemingly endless walk–James asked Regulus exactly that. “Why don’t you want me to hold your hand?” He was sincerely muddled by it. When the other boy heard the question, he looked down at the ground, continuing to kick a rock in front of him.
“I just met you,” he replied simply.
James waited for a second. “So?”
“So,” Regulus dragged the word, “you don’t hold hands with strangers.”
“But we’re not strangers.”
“We may as well be.”
“I’m not in love with a stranger,” James clarified. “I’m in love with you.”
Regulus did the only predictable thing that he had ever done, which was roll his eyes. “Do you even know what love means?” he asked, already irritated. “It means you kiss that person. It means you know that person’s favourite colour. It means you care for them more than anyone else does. It means little things remind you of them. You have done none of those things, therefore, you do not love me.”
James stopped in his tracks. A few steps in front, so did Regulus, looking back in uncertainty. “What are you doing?” He was quickly cut off when James jumped at the chance to kiss him. It was a short kiss, nothing special. It only took an hour or two with Regulus and James found himself surprised at his own actions. His unpredictability was rubbing off. He was glad.
Regulus quickly pushed him away, bringing him back to Earth. “What the hell was that?” His voice was raised and angry, but it shouldn’t have been. It was a good kiss. And it’s not like Regulus should have been surprised. James did say that he was in love with him. What else would he do in those circumstances?
“I just checked one of your boxes,” he shrugged. “Just you wait. By the end of the day, I’ll do everything on your love list and prove it to you.” Simple as that. “Also, you kissed me back, which technically means you’re also one step closer to falling in love with me.” That statement left Regulus speechless. He just went back to kicking his rock, this time with his hands out of his pockets. James couldn’t help but smile.
This time, when he reached for his hand, Regulus didn’t pull away.
…
The two of them arrived at the nearest town half an hour after their kiss. It was a new experience for James, having spent most of his life in the confines of his room, writing and rewriting, playing and replaying music. For Regulus, however, it was another unnecessary social interaction. This particular town was having a festival; houses decorated, torches lit. Merchants were selling objects with unrealistic and overcomplicated stories. Music was playing near what James assumed was the town square. Older couples were dancing with their kids while young lovers were sitting on the sidelines, looking as in love as James felt.
The first question that James asked himself when he saw the vivacious citizens was, ‘Why haven’t I come here sooner?’ Still holding Regulus’ hand, he pulled him toward the centre of the town. From the past hours they’d spent together, James knew that this wasn’t Regulus’ particular choice of entertainment. Already he seemed unimpressed. James vowed to change that by the end of the night.
“Do you want to dance?” Looking into Regulus’ eyes and seeing them broaden when he heard the question was what James wanted to spend his whole life. He wasn’t sure how this couldn’t be love. If he wasn’t in love with Regulus, when how perfect would love have to be to measure up? He didn’t think it was possible for him to like someone else’s eyes more than he liked Regulus’. Maybe that should be added to the love list. Looking into Regulus’ eyes, James didn’t feel lost in the universe. No, no he didn’t. He felt found. Maybe for the first time. “Please, Regulus?”
Without an answer, Regulus led James to where the other couples were dancing. Okay, maybe calling them a couple was a bit premature, but a man could dream, couldn’t he? He probably shouldn’t, but what Regulus doesn’t know won’t hurt him, surely.
The music was coming from a band to the far left. Calling them a band was an overstatement, since it was three half-drunk men messing up fairly simple notes. If he was with anyone else, James would go up to them, show them how it’s done. And maybe he could do that later. But right now, under the golden lights, all he wanted to do was love Regulus.
Regulus who didn’t love him back. Regulus who was so pretty that James didn’t believe he wasn’t a God like Sirius. Regulus who would be compared to Aphrodite had she not been so bitter.
As the song that was currently playing ended, and as another began–a slower one this time–James put his lyre down on a closeby fountain and took Regulus’ other hand. He didn’t know how to dance, but apparently Regulus did. Quite well too. They began with Regulus adjusting James’ hand–putting it on the small of his back–and hiding his smug smile upon seeing James’ cheeks turn a bright, unexpected red. It took a while for them to catch onto the melody. James immediately knew how they were supposed to go but it was difficult to put that knowledge to use when his feet weren’t cooperating.
Meanwhile, Regulus’ hands were on James’ shoulders, slowly moving them closer, basically hugging James’ neck. “You’re doing really well,” he whispered. It took a few seconds for James to understand that that was flirting. From what he’d heard from Sirius and his secret lover—named Remus or something like that–flirting was intimate and made up of special smiles. According to James, Regulus was wearing a special smile.
“You’re a really good teacher,” James said in return, causing Regulus to look back down at his feet. “What’s your favourite colour?”
Regulus rolled his head around, waiting as long as he could before looking back at James. Oh his eyes, James thought. He would be okay with that being the only thought that crossed his mind for the rest of his life. Oh his eyes.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Mine’s red,” James said, ignoring the question. “But not a bright red. I like maroon red. Burgundy. You?”
When it hit Regulus that he couldn’t ignore James anymore, he responded, “Forrest Green.” It’s impossible not to smile at him. “Now, I’ve answered your question, so you should answer mine. Why do you want to know?”
James leaned in, whispering and hoping that Regulus could see the special smile. “Two boxes checked on the love list now, Reggie,” he commented. “We’re really close to being in love.”
Instead of acknowledging the love thing, Regulus said, “Don’t call me Reggie.”
“Fine. Reg, then.”
“No.”
“What would you like me to call you, then?”
“Regulus.”
“Okay.”
The music had begun to slow down, and Regulus didn’t feel like arguing about nothing at all. So they swayed and swayed until the music began to slow down. James had rested his head against Regulus’ chest without any complaints from the latter, which he considered a small victory in the constant battle for Regulus’ heart.
“I really did like kissing you,” he confessed. “You’re really pretty. And even though you’re kinda mean to me, I do think I’m in love with you. You may not be in love with me but it’s okay. As long as you admit that kissing me was fun for you as well.” James’ ear was against the part of Regulus’ chest that was covering his heart. He could hear the steady beats of it, and it was beyond comforting.
“It was fun kissing you too,” he admitted.
James was grateful for what Regulus had said, but heartbroken over what he didn’t say. Regulus didn’t talk about love. He walked around it, in fact. Everytime James brought up the idea, the other would tear it down. James wanted to ask Regulus how that could hurt so much if he didn’t love him, but he didn’t ask.
“I don’t know how you think that you’re in love with me,” Regulus added, voice softening. “It’s difficult for my own brother to love me, let alone a stranger.”
Finally, James looked up. “Are we still strangers?” Regulus lowered his eyes.
“No, not strangers.”
“Can I ask one more question?”
Regulus gave a little smirk. “You just did.”
“Another one, then.” He nodded. “Do you think you could ever love me?” James partially hated himself for asking that. He could see the pained look write itself on Regulus’ face. It was selfish of him to ask. So selfish.
“James, I’ve only known you for a few hours,” he said, apologetic.
“It only takes a second to fall in love, Reg.” This time, neither of them said anything after that. They went back to peacefully dancing. The music was coming to an end, and the band was seemingly falling asleep. James took his opportunity. “Wait here.” He ran off to grab his lyre and hurried to talk to the band members. “Could I play a song? It’ll take three minutes, please.” The men were too drunk to care. James thanked them endlessly as he took over the seats. Every couple that was dancing before now had their eyes on him. But that didn’t matter. At first it did, but then he caught Regulus’ eyes and suddenly it was just them in the entire world. He started to play the familiar wedding march that he had played over the past few months, except he was playing for a different brother.
A small crowd had gathered–mostly made up of the people that were previously dancing. Everyone was mesmerised. James couldn’t wait to tell his mother. He couldn’t wait to tell her that he had played his un-evil siren song and it had done his job. Mesmerised really was too light of a word. Eyes and attentions were glued to him. From his right, James heard one of the drunk musicians tell a young, dark haired boy, “Why don’t you play as well, Severus?”
James hadn’t been envied before. Or adored. As the song came to an end, the small crowd was applauding and coming up to say hello. There were quite a few girls telling him they loved his music. He thanked them thoroughly before moving through them to find Regulus. Before he could, the dark haired Severus boy stopped him in his tracks.
“How did you learn to play like that?” His tone wasn’t warm and inquisitive. Instead it was laced with jealousy. Severus was the exception that proved the rule. James liked when Regulus disliked him, but he didn’t like when anyone else did.
“Genetics,” was James’ honest reply. He couldn’t see himself being as talented a musician with Euphemia being his mother. Apparently, that reply wasn’t to Severus’ liking.
He rolled his eyes–which were dull in comparison to Regulus’–and said, “I’m not a fan of sarcasm. Who was your teacher?”
“Euphemia, Goddess of Music and Sun.” Before James realised, Severus’ hands were bunching up his collar and pulling him uncomfortably close.
“Listen here, you half-brained dimwit,” he seethed. While James did try to listen to these blind insults toward him, all he could think about was Severus’ terrible breath. “I’ve been trying to be a musician my whole life. I’ve been in this town, practically on my knees for attention and praise. And then you show up, with your rusty lyre and your stupid wedding march, and everyone is head over fucking heels. Who is your teacher?”
James tried his best to get Severus’ grip to lighten, but it wouldn’t. Not until Regulus came over. “Do we have a problem here?” he asked, voice smooth.
“Regulus?”
“I asked if we have a problem, Severus,” he repeated.
Severus’ hands immediately let go of James and fell to his side. “No.” He walked off without another word. Regulus let himself adjust James’ collar, which was wrinkled from the earlier encounter. James just stared. This was one of the most confusing evenings of his life.
“I know him from how much Sirius and I move around,” Regulus explained, hands still on James’ shoulders. “Sirius has been in love with a merchant boy for a while now, so we moved with him. We lived here for a few months before leaving. Severus has always been a jealous prick, don’t let him get to you.”
They stayed quiet like that, with Regulus holding onto James and James not saying anything on the off chance that it might make Regulus move his hands. There was no music, but James found himself wanting to dance either way. Since the two of them met at around 7 in the evening and spent close to three hours walking, it wasn’t a shock when they saw people heading home. It was dark, and the only lights were the torches (which were currently being blown out) and the stars in the night sky.
“The stars remind me of you.”
This made Regulus laugh. A lot. James wasn’t sure as to why he found that heartfelt confession funny, but it honestly didn’t matter when he heard his laugh. And here he was thinking Regulus couldn’t get any more perfect. He was, obviously, wrong. It was the little things. They drew him to the harbour, and they drew him into the waters. Willingly, James would drown in whatever little love Regulus could offer him.
“My name is a famous constellation, so I am not surprised,” Regulus said after his laugh had quieted down.
“That’s not what I meant,” clarified James. “Stars don’t know how shiny they are or how much they light up the sky. I just think you’re like that. I’ve barely spent any time with you and I already know that about you, Reg. I’ve already found a billion things to adore about you, and still I don’t think you adore those things as well. You should. You’re really lovely. I know that sounds weird, but I mean it. You’re a lovely person.” In the following silence, he added, “And you’re a lovely dancer.”
This time, it was Regulus initiating the kiss. James would like to say he knew this would happen, but he honestly didn’t. He didn’t expect to have memorised how Regulus tasted by the end of the night. He didn’t expect to know how it felt to have his hands tangled in Regulus’ hair. He didn’t expect to be the reason that this beautiful boy in front of him had burning red cheeks. He couldn’t expect it. And he was glad about that.