Regulus had always looked from afar. Always on the outside.
At first he was just looking at the boy who stole his brother, the boy who made The Sirius Black the happiest he’d ever seen him. He would look on in envy at James Potter as he made his big brother laugh like he was the funniest thing in the world. Oh how he hated him. He loathed James Potter with every fibre of his being. But even then, even as an eleven year old, Regulus knew that it was something different from just staring because he hated him.
His eyes would catch on his fluffy black hair, wondering if it was as soft as it looked, or he would catch a glimpse of his eyes and imagine staring into them and losing himself in their beauty. But it would only be for a second, a quick flash and then he would right himself, “What’s wrong with me?” He’d think. But then he would get pulled into a conversation with Evan and Barty and he would forget all about how looking at James Potter made his stomach flutter and all he would remember is how James took his brother away from him.
Sometimes, when he looked over at Sirius and when he was feeling less pessimistic, he would wonder what it would be like to be a Gryffindor. Maybe Sirius would be proud of me he would think, maybe he would still look at me the same as he did before. Then…he would look at James. James who was yet again professing his undying love to the perfect little muggleborn Lily Evans. He would wonder if he and James could’ve been friends, if he was able to see how “he’s amazing Reg, he’s the funniest person ever, I can’t wait for you two to meet next year.”
But all Regulus knew (with all the knowledge of an eleven year old) was that life was full of maybes and he hated James Potter.