carpe diem

16

Regulus

Regulus has never been a morning person. He doesn’t even try to hide his disgust of being awake in the mornings. He's a natural nocturnal person and he always has been. Night shifts are a piece of cake, but the action of having to wake up at the crack of dawn is something he will never get used to.

Living alone, Regulus has never had to worry about his mood in the mornings. Sylvester has certainly never complained of his slapped face, lack of chattiness and grumpy stomping through the flat. As long as the cat gets fed and has a half-hearted head scratch, the cat is fine.

Turns out people aren't as accepting of Regulus' morning routine and the need for a shower, coffee and approximately at least an hour of consciousness before attempting proper conversation. Regulus found it surprising when living with Barty and Evan during their first year at university that out of all three of them, Barty is the most sprightly in the mornings. Evan acts as every other average person - generally dopey, puffy faced and can carry a mutual conversation after a couple of minutes of waking up and a decently strong coffee. Barty is a whole new level of perky in the mornings. Regulus expected him to be grouchy, grumpy, all steely eyes and harsh glares at anyone who tried to converse with him. Considering Barty can be the worlds biggest ass during the day, Regulus was almost certain he’d be worse first thing in the morning.

But he’s not.

Barty is a disgustingly eager morning person. He’s loud, he’s entirely unsympathetic to those who are still sleeping and he has absolutely no qualms with bothering Regulus the moment he opens his eyes.

It’s incredibly infuriating.

Yet, despite Barty's energy in the mornings, it's always a task for the older boy to actually get up. Unlike Regulus, who can wake at the sound of someone swallowing loudly, Barty could sleep through an earthquake shaking the flat apart. Barty's alarm always used to wake up Evan and Regulus first before it woke Barty up, despite the blaring sound coming from the clock right by the older boys head. At the end of university, Regulus thought he managed to escape the annoyance of having to wake to the sound of Barty's continuous alarms waiting forever for the man to wake up and finally turn them off. 

Regulus was wrong.

Because Barty's flat flooded weeks ago and Regulus was foolish enough to take him in, and now he's once again suffering the consequences of Barty's ability to sleep through any and all sounds.

Regulus rolls over with a pitiful whine, shoving his pillow over his head in attempt to block out the blaring, unforgiving sounds of Barty’s alarm from the living room. It’s been going on for over 20 minutes now, and this is the fourth round of sharp, loud sounding honking coming from down the hallway that Barty has slept through. It woke Regulus up immediately, and making it more annoying as Regulus’ alarm didn’t go off until 15 minutes later.

The alarm period stops. Silence surrounds him, and Regulus melts into the mattress with a sigh. He knows he should get up, because there is no way that Barty is going to wake up before the next cycle starts and the alarm fills the flat once more. He’s just so comfy, his bed is so warm and the shift yesterday wiped him out, leaving his limbs aching and head heavy. It’s not even light outside, Regulus doesn’t need to look past the blackout curtains encasing the room in darkness to know that the sun hasn’t risen above the London skyline yet. If anyone listened to Regulus’ opinion, he’d make sure it was unacceptable to have to get up for work before dawn during the winter.

But of course, no one is going to listen, and Regulus doesn’t have a choice.

Suddenly, just when Regulus is on the cusp of dozing once more, the flat jolts into sound. Relentless, annoying, ear-burning honking.

Barely containing a frustrated scream, Regulus rips back the covers and swings out of bed. He throws the bedroom door open roughly, stomping down the hall into the lounge. His socked feet are silent, but he stomps hard enough for even the soft thumping to be felt under his feet. He can’t hear them, of course, because all he can hear is Barty’s bloody alarm!

Storming up the sofa, Regulus glares at the lump that is his best friend. Barty is stretched out, one arm slung over his chest and the other hanging off the sofa. His legs are skewed - or as skewed as they can be on a two-seater sofa trying to support a six foot man. Barty is snoring, the sound drowned out by his incredibly loud alarm. His mouth is slack, hair a hideous mess spread on the pillow.

Regulus stares at him for a moment, and then he reaches out and mercilessly slaps him sharply on the forehead.

Barty jerks, whole body jolting hard enough to almost fall off the sofa. His eyes snap open, a shout escaping him as he looks around wildly.

His eyes meet Regulus’ for a moment, then they flick to his phone where the alarm is still going off. Barty reaches for it, stiff and still startled, and a moment later, the sound is gone.

The older boy collapses against the sofa, rubbing his eyes. "Did you slap me?"

"Your alarm has been going off for over 25 minutes," Regulus snarls. The sleepy rasp of his voice makes him sound less intimidating, but it’s still cool and sharp. "So yes, you wanker, I slapped you. Clearly a blaring fucking car horn doesn’t do the job!"

"You know I’m a heavy sleeper," Barty mumbles, stretching with a groan.

"Heavy sleeper is a generous term," Regulus hisses. "How the fuck did you ever get up in time for work when you were at home?"

"I wake up eventually," Barty shrugs. "It just takes me a while."

Regulus rolls his eyes, grunting unamused. He glares back down at his friend, who grins up at him cheekily.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Barty muses. "You look wonderful with your bed-hair today."

Regulus wants to slap him again.

"I’m using the shower first," he says, spinning back around.

"I’ll get the coffee ready!" Barty calls, and Regulus only responds with a middle finger over his shoulder.

The shower doesn’t brighten Regulus’ mood. Something about being woken violently by Barty’s relentless alarm always manages to dampen his mood in the mornings. It makes him feel even worse to know that they’ve got to get the tube to the hospital this morning, as Regulus’ car is still the garage, which means Regulus has to deal with the general public for more of the day than his usual 12 hours.

Brilliant.

He’s still grumbling when he gets out, even after he’s towel dried his hair and brushed his teeth. When he leaves the bathroom, still wrapped in the towel, he snatches the coffee off the side and goes straight into his room. He hears Barty shout something to him, but he drowns it out by slamming his door.

He’s barely started the day and he’s already done with people.

Regulus wishes he could take his time getting ready, but he doesn’t even entertain the idea. While Barty showers and badly sings George Micheal songs, Regulus gets ready. He dries his hair, puts on his moisturiser to stop the stupid cold winter air and wind from drying out his skin, and gets dressed. He’s finished his coffee by the time he finishes, and when he leaves his room, the sound of the shower shutting off greets him. While Barty is drying, and still singing, he makes another two mugs of coffee for them and gets Sylvester’s breakfast ready.

He’s just putting the food down on the floor when George Michael and Barty’s singing comes springing out of the bathroom, and he watches exhaustedly as his friend comes bounding into the living room.

"Tonight the music seems so loud! I wish that we could lose this crowd!" Barty sings, or more accurately, howls, at the top of his voice. Regulus watches, unamused, as the older boy bounces around the living room, theatrically slinging his pyjama shorts into the bag by the sofa. "Maybe, it’s better this way. We’d hurt each other with the things we’d want to say! We could have been so good together! We could have lived this dance forever—!"

"Your coffee is getting cold."

Barty’s face falls, arms going limb at his sides. He stares, deadpan, "Really, Regulus? Why’d you have to interrupt?"

"Because my ear drums couldn’t take anymore."

"You love George Michael."

"George? Yes. You? No," Regulus replies. "Now, drink your coffee before I throw it in your eyes and break the mug to use a shard to slice your vocal cords."

Barty flashes him a hurt look. "How can you be this violent and vulgar this early in the morning?"

"Same way you can be this insufferable."

"You hurt me, Reggie-kins."

"The threat wasn’t empty, Crouch."

Barty flashes him a shit-eating grin, but drinks the coffee as instructed.

15 minutes later, they’re wrapped in scarfs and hats and their hands are donned with warm gloves. The walk to the tube doesn’t take long, but the winter air and the darkness bites at them harsher than feels responsibly acceptable.

Despite it being only five-thirty in the morning, the tubes are relatively busy. They’re not overcrowded as they would be after seven AM, but busy enough that Regulus is not impressed with the fact that he has to stand. He misses his car, and he doesn’t hold back in letting Barty know about it.

"Will you stop bitching?" Barty grumbles after the tenth time Regulus informs him he’s not impressed with their predicament.

"Fuck off," Regulus snarls. "I miss my car."

"Well," Barty grins smugly, "when I win the lottery tonight, I’l buy you another three cars so this never happens again when one goes to the garage."

Regulus frowns. "Win the lottery? You don’t even enter the lottery?"

"I am tonight," Barty corrects. He leans in suddenly, smirking and lowering his voice to an octave above a whisper. "I have had a premonition."

Regulus rolls his eyes. "Give me a break."

"No! Seriously, listen!" Barty argues desperately. "So last night, I had this dream where I won 54 million quid, yeah? And coincidentally, tonight there is a lotto draw for 54 fucking million! Mate, I have seen the future! I’m gonna buy some tickets, and by the end of today, we’re going to be entering early retirement!"

"You won’t win, Barty," Regulus says. "Do you know how many millions of people are going to be entering for tonight? You haven’t had a premonition. You had a fucking dream."

"Regulus, will you shut down your pessimistic ass for five minutes please?" Barty glares.

"Fine," Regulus sighs, rolling his head on his neck. With a sigh, he adds, "I will entertain your feeble idea. What would you buy with 54 million quid?"

Barty grins again, cheeky and shit-eating.

"Well, first, I’d obviously buy a house. Like one of those big obnoxious ones in Wimbledon with a pool and all that shit. Then I’d buy you, Evan and Pandora your own houses, new cars, and like five grand to spend on clothes and shit. Then—"

"Wait, you win 54 million, and you’re only giving us five grand to spend on clothes?"

Barty frowns. "What?"

"Five grand won’t even put a dent in 54 million!" Regulus argues. "It’s 2023, Barty. I could spend five grand in five minutes."

Barty stares at him. "Mate, for someone who doesn’t believe I could win, your very argumentative on what I do with my money."

"Fine," Regulus rolls his eyes. "Continue."

"Thank you," Barty grumbles. "Now, as I was saying! Then, I’d buy us all brand new cars, designed in the workshops so we can get exactly what we want. I’d donate money to charity, of course, the animal ones and the cancer ones, y’know, to keep my conscience decent. I’d buy my mum a house so she could get away from my dad. I’d also hire someone to continuously keep keying and damaging my dads car, so every time he gets it fixed they do it again and again. I’d buy a zoo and—"

"Buy a zoo?" Regulus interrupts as they step off the tube train and join the foot traffic up to the exit. "Barty, why the—"

"I want a pet lion, Regulus!" Barty cries. "I want one so fucking bad but I obviously can’t have the violent shit in my house, so I’d buy a zoo and then—"

"Fucking hell," Regulus sighs, shaking his head. "Since when do you want a pet lion?"

"Since you got Sylvester The Satan Spawn and I realised cats are fucking boring and I want a lion?" Barty explains, frowning as if it was obvious.

Regulus rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time already this morning.

"Anything else?"

"Buy a holiday home in Greece. A massive yacht. I’d probably move to New York or LA, some big expensive place in America."

"You hate Americans."

"I’d hate them less if I was rich."

"Of course."

"Alright, smart ass," Barty says as they make it up to street level. "What would you do with 54 million quid?"

Regulus purses his lips and shrugs, "Nothing, because I’m realistic enough to know it would never happen."

"But if it did!" Barty says. "Theoretically, what would Regulus Black do if he won the lottery?"

"Probably leave in the middle of the night and never contact any of you again."

Barty nods seriously. "I wouldn’t expect any less. Won’t even leave your three best friends some money to buy their first homes?"

"I’d give you my car," Regulus shrugs. "And a fiver to buy a Starbucks."

"How generous," Barty drawls as they turn the last corner and the hospital comes into view. "I’m finding this very hurtful, you know."

"You want my honest answer?" Regulus asks.

"Yes!"

"Fine," Regulus nods. "I’d give you three a massive chunk of money, I’d donate millions to charities, anonymously of course because fuck no do I want to be in the papers and made to sound like a good person. I’d break my phone, only give you, Evan and Pandora my new number, then I’d get a plane to a random country and live in a house in the middle of no where to live my life in complete solitude and silence."

Barty blinks, expression passive as they step inside the hospital doors.

"Yep," he eventually nods. "That sounds about right for you. Get rich, become a hermit."

"And donate to charity to pretend I’m a good person," Regulus adds. "Then I could die happy at 30."

"Bit of a waste of 54 million if you die in seven years time."

"Thought it was hypothetical?"

Barty nods. "Coffee?"

"You buying? I’m sure you can afford it, Mr Premonition Millionaire."

"Yes. I will buy your gloomy ass a coffee, because in 12 hours time, I’m gonna be fucking rich," Barty argues. "And every time you doubt my dream and future, I’m going to knock 50 grand off the total of the house I’m going to buy you."

"Deal. Double espresso americano, please."

Regulus wasn’t joking when he said if he won the lottery then the only plan he had was to move away to somewhere practically deserted and live the rest of his life in peace. He doesn’t see a downside to it. Maybe a house in Southern France countryside, or in a remote forest in Canada. Somewhere that is stand alone, with no neighbours and and so out of the way not even the postman delivers. Just him, his cats, and all the time in the world to read books and watch his cooking shows completely undisturbed.

Bliss.

Maybe Regulus will buy some tickets too.

The queue for the cafe is short, and as they stand side by side in the line, Barty tries to decide the first thing he’s going to buy when he 'wins' the lottery that evening.

"I feel like you can’t go too big when it’s that much money," he says. "But realistically, the first thing I’ll buy is probably going to be something small like a pair of Levi’s jeans."

"Why Levi’s jeans?"

"Because they’re like a hundred quid, and when I buy them they make me feel like an idiot for spending that much on a bit of denim. But when I’m a millionaire, it will feel like pennies!"

"Oh," Regulus nods, adding sarcastically, "Of course."

"I feel like my use of the winnings would be entirely justifiable. We all know Pandora would give pretty much all of it to charities, and Evan would definitely spend it all and then be confused where it went."

Regulus nods, seriously this time. "For once, I agree with you. Pandora would keep working too."

"Oh definitely. Fucking weirdo. She could win a hundred million and she’d still continue as an NHS midwife."

Regulus chuckles, nodding, "I bet she wouldn’t even use the money to bribe her way in before she’d finished her studies too. She’d be the only millionaire student in England."

"Mate, if I won the lottery while studying and for some reason still wanted to work, I’d definitely bribe the university and get signed off straight away."

"I’d definitely get out of the practical exams."

"I’d definitely pay the exam board for the recordings of your practical exams," Barty barks a loud laugh. "Fuck, you hated them so much."

"They were so awkward!" Regulus argues with a grimace. "I hated it. Especially when we didn’t have a real patient and I had to speak to a fucking dummy."

"You started getting anxious about it weeks before it even happened."

"If they make me do any of those in this surgery course I’m quitting."

"I don’t think your fragile mental state could handle the stress of more practical exams," Barty agrees.

"Thanks."

"You’re welcome. Honesty is the best policy," Barty grins. "Hey, odds on Evan crying if I win."

"I’m not betting that. He’d definitely cry if you won 54 million," Regulus shakes his head. "He cries when he watches the fucking repair shop on TV."

"Who’s crying?"

They whip around and are greeted with the sight of Dorcas standing behind them.

"Evan," Barty answers, "when I become a millionaire tonight."

Dorcas looks between the two of them. Her eyes settle of Regulus, "Do I want to know?"

"No—"

"I’ve had a premonition, Meadows!" Barty interrupts. "Tonight, I’m going to be a lotto winner and you’re going to wish you were nicer to me."

"You could be a billionaire, Crouch, and I still won’t be nice to you," she replies.

Regulus smirks, and she flashes him a wink.

"You wound me," Barty gasps.

"You’ll heal."

"Oof, that is no way to talk to a future millionaire."

"The only thing you’re a millionaire in is the amount of bullshit you sprout every day," she quips.

"I’d offer to buy you a coffee, but for that, you can go fuck yourself."

"Now, now, children," Regulus says. "Watch your language. You’re in a fucking hospital."

Dorcas snorts, and then Barty is stepping up to the counter. After he’s ordered, he turns around to her and asks, "Meadows, what you do with 54 million?"

"Buy a house for me and Marls in the South of France and never see any of you cunts again," she replies instantly. "Well, not you, Regulus. You can come and translate for us."

Regulus smirks at the same time that Barty gasps loudly.

"Dorcas! How rude!" He cries. "I’m telling Panda and Evan you’d leave us behind!"

"They wouldn’t blame me," she shrugs.

"If you two swung the other way you’d be perfect for each other. Two hermits living in solidarity in stupid France," he grumbles.

Regulus wrinkles his nose. "No, thank you."

"I agree. Regulus is too high maintenance for me," she says. Regulus would argue that, but he doesn’t bother. "Oh, by the way, I have bad news."

"You’re transferring to cardio ward?" Barty asks with exaggerated dread as he hands Regulus the fresh flask of coffee and they step away from the kiosk.

"Funny," she rolls her eyes, then looks at Regulus. Her dark eyes suddenly turn guilty, and Regulus feels his stomach pool with dread. "Sorry, Reg, but I’m down in emergency today so I think you’re on your own up in neuro."

Regulus almost drops his coffee. Beside him, Barty is laughing, but Regulus can’t even lift his arm to smack him or take his eyes off Dorcas to glare. He is so not in the mood to be the only doctor on shift today, and they lost Dorcas yesterday because emergency snatched her down midway through the day.

"Have fun, mate!" Barty teases, clapping him on the back and walking off with a salute towards the elevators. "Don’t have any breakdowns without me!"

Ignoring Barty, Regulus growls, "Do emergency not have of their own doctors anymore?"

Dorcas at least looks guilty, despite Regulus knowing she loves going down to emergency. It always surprised him when she became a neurologist. She’s always had a knack for emergency and trauma care. He’s always known neurology is boring for her, that she’d rather be down in resus dealing with the spurting blood pouring from severed arteries and crushed bones from car crashes. Dorcas always seems more in her element in the essence of emergency, when she’s working against the clock, when the gloomy haunting of an arresting patient is hanging over her unless she fixes it in time. Regulus knows Dorcas always wanted to be an army medic, that going into the battlefield and on the front lines always appealed to her like it did her father when he was young. Things go wrong up in neurology, more often than not you can be working against the clock and patients often going from bad to worse in seconds. Neurology can be more complicated, small sickness can cause a catastrophic domino effect leaving the patients with life changing outcomes. But it’s not blood and gore, severed limbs and crushed, difficult airways like it is down in emergency.

Regulus won’t be surprised when the day comes that Dorcas announces her transfer. He knows she’s only buying time, enjoying the best of both worlds. Emergency is her place though. It’s the adrenaline and trauma that keeps her going on shifts.

"I’m sorry, Reg," she says.

Regulus shakes his head with a huff. "Not your fault, and don’t feel bad. I know you like it down here."

"You’ll handle it just fine up there," she smiles. "You can run the ward with your eyes closed."

"Yeah," Regulus nods. "That’s the problem. That means they won’t bring in anyone to help."

Dorcas cringes, "Still sorry. Let me know when you’re going on break though, and we can meet and have a smoke or something."

"Quitting is still going well then."

She flashes him a flat look. "How many times do I have to say it, it’s social smoking."

"Of course," he muses. "My mistake. Well, enjoy your fun day down in emergency. I hope you get covered in blood and shit and piss."

"How kind."

"Need to somehow get you to miss being up in neuro," he shrugs as he begins to head to the elevators. "Getting covered in the bad type of bodily fluids should do it."

"You’re a delight, Black," she grins, "I’ll miss the ward just because of your wit!"

"Feel free to miss it so much you come back after a few hours," he says, winking as he steps inside. She’s waving mockingly as the doors slide closed.

With a groan, Regulus leans against the elevator wall, his head rolling back and thumbing against the mirror with a soft knock.

The start to the day hasn’t been great, but he’s not going to jinx it by believing it can’t get any worse. He’s worked in a hospital for too long.

It can always get worse.

The doctor that hands over to him after he’s changed into his scrubs seems to have no clue what they’re talking about. Regulus listens for the sake of being polite, but mentally he’s berating the idiots that ever let this hooligan step foot in a hospital.

After the mediocre handover, Regulus feels none the wiser to the events that happened over night or the new patients. So he grabs one of the night nurses before they clock off to give him a more informed update. It sounds like the nightshift was shit for all parties involved, and the nurse looks as ragged as Regulus feels. She seems ready to wave the hospital goodbye, so he only asks the most important questions and decides he can fill in the gaps later by himself.

He’s finishing his coffee and reading through all the patient files at the reception desk when someone grabs him by the shoulders and roughly spins him around in the chair.

"Good morning, Doctor Sunshine," Mary grins wolfishly, not acknowledging Regulus' startled cry. Her face is inches from his, the smell of her bubblegum flavoured chewing gum invading his nose. "I've got something to tell you that's going to break your heart."

"You can't break something I don't have," Regulus replies swiftly, shrugging off her hands and spinning back to the desk.

"Do you want some sugar in that coffee? You need sweetening up, my friend," she chirps, unbothered by his attitude and instead bouncing to sit on the desk beside him. "So, can I break your nonexistent heart now?"

He slouches back in the chair, cup cradled in his hand and looks up at her. "Try me."

"You missed out on a craniotomy last night. 29 year old male, car crash at one AM. Poor fucker came straight up here for surgery after they realised his brain was swelling at the speed of expanding foam. Slughorn was on too, so you would have had a hand in on that sweet op."

"Motherfucker," Regulus hisses. "The one time I swap my night shifts for days."

"I know," she nods, but she's still grinning. "I was on it too. Would have been a fucking blast doing a surgery together. Slughorn was stressed as shit, which was also quite amusing."

"Was it successful?"

"Of course. It was Slughorn. Guys gonna be fucked for life, but he'll be alive at least," she shrugs.

"That's kind of the neuro motto here isn't it for discharging patients," he muses, taking a sip. "Fucked but alive."

"Job well done," she nods. "We’re going to the Leaky this weekend, by the way. I’ve already invited Pandora but feel free to invite the other two cronies of your crew."

"I’ll let them know, but I won’t be coming."

Mary stares sharply at him. "Why?"

Regulus hasn’t been out since New Years. It’s been over five weeks now, and Regulus has only left the house to go to work at the hospital or to the shops to get food. Even having Barty round hasn’t helped with the encouragement of leaving the house. If the three of them want to see him, they always seem to come over, as if they know the idea of going out is so exhausting to him. He just doesn’t have the energy for it. He doesn’t want to put the effort into looking nice, or put on a fake smile and cheery laugh around a table in a pub or a restaurant. The idea of it is exhausting, and he knows the execution would be unfathomable. Regulus doesn’t even want to see Pandora, Evan or Barty most of the time. He can’t begin to think of dealing with Dorcas, Mary and Marlene too.

Regulus just goes to work, goes home, eat, sleep and repeat. He’s become more unsociable than during exam season during their last year of university.

If it wasn’t for Barty being over, Regulus would have gone days and without speaking to anyone unless it was at work.

"I’ve got studying to do," Regulus shrugs. Not a total lie. Just some twisted truth. "Plus, if you get Barty out, then I’ll have a free flat to actually get some work done in."

"You’re getting so boring in your old age," Mary grumbles, rolling her eyes. "Wait, Barty’s still living with you?"

"Unfortunately," Regulus sighs. "No word on when he’s leaving either."

"You love it," she smirks. Suddenly, she claps her hands sharply, "Right, I'm off. Lovely to see you and your precious little face. Have fun today, don't work too hard and don't cry too much over your missed opportunity of skull removal."

"Enjoy your sleep."

"I will," she winks, before she's hopping off the desk and practically skipping out of sight.

The morning goes as it always does in classic chaotic fashion. Regulus responds to the nurses queries, answers the phone with questions and transfers to and from other departments. He looks at scans, asks for blood works and continuous observations on iffy patients that need it.

Regulus blinks and it's already mid-afternoon. He's overdue a break, but he doesn't whine about it as it's more than the norm. Dorcas messaged him from downstairs to say there chock-blocked too, but to keep her posted when he wanted to meet for a coffee and fresh air. Barty has been bitching too, as he's working with Snape and Mulciber today so Regulus knows cardio ward is currently the battle of the biggest doctor on shift. Regulus is happy in neurology, where despite the hardships, he's running the show and can at least keep minimal control.

He's signing off a patients prescription at the reception desk. Another mediocre task, but a relief after spending the last two hours doing neurological exams and closely looking at scans and results. He rubs his eyes, the light of the computer screen hurting his eyes. He's scrolling through the seemingly endless of drugs and medications, the screen going so fast the words are blurring together—

"Excuse me."

Regulus freezes.

No.

Please.

No!

He knows that voice. In such a small amount of time, he’s come to be able to pick it out of a crowded room blindfolded.

He’s heard it in the mornings, when he first wakes up, when it’s raspy and croaking.

He’s heard it the afternoon, laughing after a lunch out at a cafe.

He’s heard it over dinner, in the evenings when it’s low and seductive and causes Regulus to melt like ice cream on a plate.

He’s heard it quiet, loud, happy and sad.

He’s heard it crack and shatter with emotion.

He hears it in his head when the world gets a little too quiet.

He’s missed it.

Regulus slowly looks up. He knows what he’s going to see, but his brain is still praying it’s an illusion.

He can’t speak back when he see’s the hazel brown staring back at him. His throat is closed up, his heart rate picking up like he’s come face to face with a monster instead of James Potter.

James looks good. Last time Regulus saw him, he looked tired and worn, but he looks nothing like that now. His hair is clean and unruly, falling over the rims of his glasses and curling around his face. His face is clear of drawn, worn lines and instead he looks like he’s sleeping well, his caramel skin soft and smooth.

Regulus wants to touch it, to feel the warmth beneath his fingers again or run his fingers through the messy locks and tug it in the way that makes James quiver against him.

There’s a sharp pain in his stomach. His chest tightens.

Regulus can still remember the last time they spoke. How James was begging Regulus to reach out to Sirius, to be the bigger person and rebuild the bridge that wasn’t even burnt by Regulus in the first place.

"Hi," James breathes, smiling shyly.

Regulus wants to slap the smile off his face.

"Your mother isn’t in today," Regulus replies, tone clipped and curt. He hopes the panic isn’t showing on his face, and he’s impressed at the lack of shake in his voice.

"I know," James nods sheepishly. "I’m not here to speak to her."

"James, if you’re here to tell me to talk to Sirius again, then I don’t want to hear it," Regulus says, staring at the older male and glaring up at him. He can feel his heart pounding, and he hates himself for getting so worked up so quickly. No one has a right to make him feel this anxious this fast, especially James. "Everyone is making me feel like it’s my responsibility to be the one to make amends with him, but that’s not fair!"

James shakes his head, "I know—"

"You don’t, James!" Regulus snaps sharply. He doesn’t care that he’s still sitting at the reception desk in the middle of the ward. He doesn’t care that his colleagues and patients might hear him. If James wants to do this here, Regulus will give it to him here. "You don’t because you won’t accept me unless he does too! You said it yourself last time, that you don’t want to choose and you want us both."

"I do want you both," James whispers, but despite his quiet voice, is clear and steady. "I do, and I’m sorry for what I said, Reg. I am, really. It was. . . it was wrong of me to make you feel like it was your job to reach out to Sirius first."

Regulus rolls his eyes. "What’s made you change your tune, James? Because last time you were here, you were pretty damn sure it was my part to play in the forgiving first."

James lets out a shake breath, his eyes dropping. "I realised it was unfair of me to ask you to speak to Sirius. I’ve thought about it, and got my ass chewed in by Peter over it too. Me and Remus were cruel to make you feel like it was your responsibility to make amends with Sirius instead of him make amends with you."

Regulus scoffs, shaking his head.

"It’s true!" James defends. "I just. . . I just want you both to be happy and I saw what Sirius was like when he left your parents house when he was 16, and it’s hard to remember that it was like that for you too. You just. . . you seemed to be coping so well it’s hard to remember that."

"My apologises for coping better than him," Regulus drawls.

"I’m making a bloody mess of this," James whines, shaking his head. "Look, I’m here to say I’m sorry, Remus is too."

Regulus stares at him. "That all?"

"I want to see you," James murmurs, and he sounds so damn sad Regulus almost wilts underneath the weight of it.

He doesn’t wilt, though.

"Well, you’ve seen me," he says, standing up and grabbing his pager off the desk. "Now fuck off."

James’ face falls. Regulus looks away before the hurt on the older boys face can make him feel bad.

"Reg—"

"Get out, James," he interrupts, walking around the desk. He’s not sure where he’s going, but he sure as hell is not staying here. He walks as fast as he can without actually running, and heads towards the elevators.

"Wait!" James says again, and he follows Regulus down the corridor. "Reg, please, just hear me out!"

"What, James?" Regulus half-shouts as he spins around. James is a step behind him, looking frazzled and desperate now. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

"I want to go on a date."

Regulus sighs heavily, squeezing his eyes closed tightly. Please, he almost begs. Don’t do this to me. "James—"

"No, listen!" James pleads, sounding on the brink of hysteria. "I want to go on a date with Regulus Black, the tough-as-nails doctor who can silence a room when he walks in. I want to go on a date with you, not Sirius’ younger brother or Remus’ doctor or my mums favourite colleague. I want to go on a date with Regulus Black, the person who pretends to hate caramel lattes and is the pessimism to my glowing optimism."

Regulus’ mouth is unnaturally dry. James can’t be telling the truth. "But—"

"Don’t even think about it," James interrupts. "I want to get to know you, not other peoples versions of you, Reg. I want you to tell me what you want me to know, what you want to share and laugh or cry about. Or, I don’t want you to talk at all, and I want you to kiss me stupid and run your unnaturally cold hands down my back while I fuck you against a wall."

"Fucking hell," Regulus breathes, shaking his head. He runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes against the sting of tears that burns them.

"I’m not ashamed of us, Reg," James says, voice losing it’s hysteria and instead coming out firm. He sounds so sure of himself, so promising it makes Regulus feel weak in the knees. "I’m sorry for how I acted. I’m sorry for ever making you feel like it was on you to make the move and be the grown up. Whatever happened, it happened between you and Sirius. It’s not my place to get involved, so I’m not doing it anymore. What I want to do, is make it up to you."

Regulus lets out a shaky breath. He pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes until white spots dance against them. Then he drops his hands, straightens and up and meets James’ gaze. "You don’t. . ."

"I do. I really do. So, please. . . let me take out Regulus Black and show him why I’m so desperately missing him."

Regulus bites his lip to stop himself from letting out the embarrassing whimper of despair that’s crawling up his throat. He feels so stupid, so easily picked apart by nothing but some soft words and declaration of change.

Looking at James now, Regulus doesn’t know how to say no. He doesn’t know how to deny himself this warmth again. He feels like he flew too close to the sun and got burnt, but he hasn’t learnt his lesson. He wants to fly again, he wants to feel the heat and the safety. He wants to be blinded, burned alive.

"Reg, you deserve to be reminded why I promised you that love is worth it," James says, and Regulus almost laughs. The broken promise of safety, the broken promise of bravery and freedom. James asked him to give him a chance, told him it would be worth it. "Please, let me keep proving it to you. Just us. The two of us, none of this other shit needs to be involved."

Regulus shakes his head firmly. "We can't ignore it, James."

That’s the harsh truth, Regulus knows. They can’t ignore the elephant in the room. They can’t go back to that sweet obliviousness. Too much has been revealed, too many lines have been crossed and intertwined. James knows more about Regulus now than he was ever willing to admit. London doesn’t feel the same, knowing that James and Euphemia are something Regulus has to share with the one person in the world he never wanted to.

Regulus has always been a possessive person. For so long, Sirius was the only thing he had, and when he had to share Sirius with his school friends, Regulus hated it. He'd forced himself to grow out of it as much as he could. Since moving to London, he's managed to suppress the possessiveness of people in his life. He can share his friends, doesn't feel worried when they hang out without him, because he knows living like that is not practical - especially as someone who doesn't want to hangout as much as his friends do.

James seems to have undone all the progress he made.

He feels small again. Possessive, jealous. He doesn't want to share James. He doesn't want to go back to being second best.

They can't pretend Sirius doesn't exist. They can't pretend the past hasn't happened, no matter how much Regulus wants to. Sirius is part of James' life, and he's too good a person to ever give Sirius up for Regulus. Regulus understands, he really does. James wouldn't be the person he came to crave and need if he wasn't that way inclined.

"We can for a while," James smiles. "We can ignore it for as long as you want, Reg. I'm not. . . I'm not getting involved anymore, and I'm not letting anyone else. I'm not the person who took your brother away. I'm the person who convinced you that doing things you're afraid of, opening up and letting people give you what you deserve is a good thing. I don't want you to think of me as the person who helped your brother leave you behind."

"I don't think of you like that," Regulus murmurs.

"You do, and it's okay you do, because what happened hurt you and you've been dealing with that hurt for so long on your own," James says, and his words cut deep despite how true they are. "Please, just let me remind you that you are more than what your family did to you."

"Will you be able to resist talking about it?" Regulus asks. "Will you truly be able to put aside the martyr in you, the stupid peacekeeper, saviour-complex you have, and pretend for a while that I'm not his brother?"

James nods. There's no hesitation, no uncertainty. He's looking at Regulus like he's staring into the most comforting thing. "I can, and I will. If that's what you want, we'll pretend it never happened. This is between you and him, it has nothing to do with us."

Us.

"Say it again," Regulus whispers.

James frowns, opening his mouth before snapping it shut. The crease in his eyebrows smooth, his lips quirk up. "Us. Us, us, us. Us."

"Okay," Regulus murmurs. "Okay, I. . . okay."

James' face splits with a smile. It's like a crack in the pavement during an earthquake. His eyes light up, and he blinks rapidly for a moment as if he can't quite believe it. His flushed cheeks go from a rosey dusting to a deep red.

Regulus barely contains the urge to smile. He did that. His chest swells, and he feels his own cheeks burning because he put that look on James' face.

"Okay," James breathes, nodding. "Are you free tonight?"

"I can’t do tonight."

James doesn't seem even the slightest deterred. "Tomorrow night?"

"I finish at six, but I'll need to go home and get ready."

"That's fine!" James beams. "Want me to pick you up at 7:30?"

"It would probably be more 8:30," Regulus admits. "My car is in the garage, so I have to get the tubes home and—"

"I'll pick you up and take you to your flat," James offers. "I don't mind."

He makes it all sound so easy.

Regulus exhales. "Okay."

Regulus doesn't mention it to Barty until late in the evening. They've been home for hours, and are halfway through dinner on the sofa with reruns of Friends playing on the TV when it comes out.

He blurts it out like a dog barking. It's short and sharp, sudden. Loud enough to drown out the sounds of the TV.

"James came to the ward today."

Barty freezes abruptly. His hand cradling the fork of rice and dripping sweet and sour chicken midway into his open mouth, frozen as if someone had taken a photo in time. Slowly, he lowers the fork down to the plate with a soft clang, and looks to the side at Regulus.

"Like, as a patient?"

"No," Regulus admits quietly.

"Okay," Barty says slowly. "To see his mum?"

Regulus shakes his head. "No."

Barty sighs beside him.

"What did he want?"

"He. . ." Regulus' voice cracks painfully. He takes in a shaky breath. "He asked to go on a date. Said he wants to. . . start again? I guess? He said he wants to pretend the whole stuff with Sirius hasn't happened. That he wants to meet again and for it to just be about us."

"And. . ." Barty drawls, "what did you say?"

"I said yes," Regulus whispers, voice so quiet it's barely audible, likes it's a dirty and shameful confession he shouldn't reveal.

"Alright," Barty nods with a half-hearted shrug, and then promptly turns back to the TV.

Regulus gapes. He stares for a moment, mouth slack and body completely limp as he processes the single word his friend imputed. Suddenly, he sputters and snatches the remote off the cushion between them. He switches the TV off as he shrieks, "Is that it? 'Alright'!?"

Barty looks at him with wide, startled eyes, cheeks bulging from the food he's got in his mouth.

"What do you want me to say?" He asks, words garbled as he frantically swallows.

"Something more than just 'alright'!" Regulus shouts. "That's all you've got to say? It— he came in and— and I said—fuck!"

"I'm starting to think that you wanted me to say more."

"Yes!" Regulus barks. "Yes, Barty. I wanted a bit more fucking advice than just 'alright'!"

"Mate," he sighs, rubbing his eyes. "I don't know what you want me to say. I genuinely think it's alright. Look, the dude has been pinning over you for months. It's actually quite disgusting really how gone for you he is, and it's equally as disgusting to see you gone for him."

Regulus stares in surprise.

"I was. . . I was expecting you to tell me not to go," he argued weakly.

They haven't talked about the Sirius-Rasalas or James-Regulus situations since Remus was admitted into hospital a few weeks ago. Regulus has refused to bring it up, and Barty has either been too scared or too polite to force him to talk about it. The last thing that was spoken about was when Remus and James both practically bombarded Regulus with the wishes for him to reach out to his brother. Nothing has come of it, of course, because Regulus has decided there is no way in hell he is being the one to reach out first. Sirius doesn't want to know him, and he had no intentions of ever seeing him or finding him again if his lack of acknowledgment to Regulus' existence was anything to go by. Regulus knows that if he reached out first, he'd only be giving Sirius a golden opportunity to rip him a new one and leave him again like he did eight years ago.

Therefore, it has not been brought up again. Regulus has avoided James altogether, and by a miracle, the older boy has kept his distance.

At least till today that is.

Regulus has no idea what Barty or Evan or Pandora's opinions are anymore, but last time he checked, Barty was voting for arson on anyone and everyone involved.

"It's not my choice, mate," Barty explains. "Look, this situation with Sirius is fucked. I hate the dude, and I think you should shove any and all contact with the guy up his ass. James was a twat for basically telling you to make up with your prick of a brother, but if he's coming crawling back basically admitting he's fucked up and regardless of what happens he wants to be with you, then go for it, mate!"

"It can't be that simple," Regulus says, because it can't.

It can't possibly be as simple as James agreeing to allow Regulus and Sirius to both be apart of his life without ever crossing paths. James can't split himself like that. It will never work.

"Reg, if he wants to try, and you clearly miss him despite the fact you avoid acknowledging your sad feelings like your life depends on it, then why not?" Barty asks.

"Because it won't work," Regulus argues again.

"It could," Barty counters. "And if it doesn't, then you can get your last shag with James and officially get back on the market."

Regulus rolls his eyes.

"You're miserable, Reg," he says after a minute of silence. "You miss him, even if you won't admit it. He messed up, and while I still wanna punch him in the face and gouge his eyes out with his glasses, I'd put my anger aside for you to give it another shot."

"Wow," Regulus deadpans. "How generous of you."

"What can I say?" Barty grins. "I'm a man of kind compromise. Especially if it solves your blue balls."

"I do not have blue balls."

"You do a bit."

"Fuck off."

Barty snorts, then asks, "When you meeting him?"

"Tomorrow night."

"You wanker!" Barty cries. "Why have you planned it for the night I'm out on a shift?"

"So I don't have to worry about your committing murder."

"Please," Barty scoffs. "I wouldn't get caught. Is he gonna come back here for the night?"

Regulus shrugs, ducking his head before Barty can spot the sudden flush to his cheeks. "I don't know."

"I might murder him in his sleep."

"Please don't," Regulus sighs. "Blood is a pain to get out of the bed sheets."

"Speaking from experience?" Barty smirks. "Got a kink you want to confess, Reggie-kins?"

Regulus rolls his eyes again.

"Well, I vote yes to the date," Barty confirms. "And if he fucks up again, me and Evan will bust his kneecaps."

"Lovely."

"Anytime, buddy."

"Hey," Regulus says suddenly as Barty puts his empty place on the coffee table, "have you checked the lotto numbers?"

"How could I forget?!" Barty cries, looking around wildly for his phone. When he spots it at the end of the coffee table, he launches to grab it.

A minute later, after watching Barty rapidly tapping on the screen, he asks, "Did you win?"

Barty is silent. Regulus genuinely can't tell if he's frozen with shock that's good or bad.

"Barty?"

"No," the older boy says quietly. "No, I didn't win."

"Huh," Regulus nods, scooping out a fork of rice. "Well, we can say goodbye to early retirement."

"I had so many plans!" Barty wails, flopping back on the sofa and almost knocking Regulus' plate off his lap. "Get the gin, Reg! Please! I need a martini!"

Regulus rolls his eyes at the dramatic antics, placing his plate on the table to avoid it being kicked clean out of his hands. "We have work tomorrow, Barty."

Barty tosses his arms over his eyes and whines like a wounded dog. "Regulus! I am in mourning!"

"Mourning what?"

"My money!"

Regulus flashes his friend a flat look. "You’re in mourning over the money you never actually owned?"

"I’d mentally spent it all!" Barty cries. He moves his arms and looks at Regulus. He looks rather pathetic. "I need time to deal with my grief!"

"You know where the gin is. I’m going to bed," Regulus says, climbing off the sofa. "Enjoy drinking your sorrows away, fellow peasant."

"Piss off!"

James

James is 30 minutes early to pick Regulus up. He knows it’s impossible that Regulus is going to be out early, and if anything, he’s more than likely to be out late, but James can’t help it. He’s been ready for tonight since half one in the afternoon, and it was only from Peter practically smothering him to the sofa that stopped him from driving over to the hospital over four hours before Regulus is finishing.

James hasn’t stopped thinking about tonight since Regulus said yes yesterday. In fact, he hasn’t stopped thinking about seeing Regulus again since he realised he couldn’t go any longer without making amends over a week ago.

James is still mad at himself for how he acted. His loyalty to Sirius, one of his oldest friends and undoubtedly his brother in all but blood, was unbreakable with the idea that if he could just convince Regulus to make the first step, the two brothers might be able to reconnect. James realises he was wrong. It was cruel to have put it all on Regulus' shoulders, to have asked the younger boy to be the one to make the first contact. James doesn't know why he was so set on pleading Regulus to do it. Perhaps it's the fact that James saw Sirius' consequences of the Black parents abuse, he saw with his own eyes what they did to Sirius. James was just so desperate to not lose one of them, or worse, lose both, that he felt the best way to do it was to beg Regulus to reach out first.

James still wants them to connect. He wants the brothers to have each other, to defied their parents and their horrible childhoods. He thinks they might, if they both tried, because there seems to be so much that neither of them understand about each other. Their stories are so different, so sculptured by hurt that James is sure that the feud between them is crafted entirely on misunderstanding.

James knows Sirius was deeply hurt by his family, but something must have happened between the two of them that Sirius hasn't entirely got right. Sirius seems to hate Regulus because he's of the opinion that the younger boy is like his parents, that he's cruel and nasty and bigoted.

James hasn't seen that in Regulus. He's seen someone entirely different, nothing like the person Sirius is adamant that he is. And Sirius seems to scared of having Regulus in his life, terrified like it's a plot from their parents to punish him one last time.

James feels for both of them. They've both been so hurt before, and he feels sick to his stomach when he thinks about Regulus going through what they went through together even after Sirius left.

James hasn't quite let go the whole I didn't tell you I had a younger brother despite being friends since we were 11 and living with you since we were 16 thing. James is just so hurt that he was lied too, that Sirius never felt like he could tell him the whole truth. He told James about what his parents were like, so why didn't he take that chance to also reveal Regulus? Sirius tried to argue that if James or his parents knew about Regulus still living in that house they would have gone and got him, and James can't argue that he's right. James nor his parents would have ever been able to live their lives knowing that another child was still living in danger in the same home that Sirius had to literally run away from bruised and battered. James doesn't see the problem with that, but Sirius just seems so sure that Regulus didn't want to be saved.

James finds that hard to believe.

If someone didn't want to be saved, why would they move to a different country and change their name? Why would Regulus be here, with a new identity and only revealing the small fact about himself that he doesn't have any family.

James and Sirius haven't spoken about Regulus. It's been easier not too. Since James spoke to Remus and Peter, and it was Peter that basically slapped them upside the head for going to Regulus and making him feel like he had to be the one to apologise first. Peter had been pissed at them, saying that whatever was going on between the Black brothers was theirs and Remus and James were being cruel getting involved. That it wasn't their place to decide who was right or wrong in the situation as complicated as the Black Brothers.

Peter was the one who reminded James that abusive parents don't just stop being abusive when one of the kids leave.

James feels torn. He feels like he's betraying one of them when he's with the other, and the years of friendship with Sirius makes him feel guilty for seeing Regulus again. Sirius looked horrified when James told him he was seeing Regulus again tonight, but James knows it was the right thing to tell him. He doesn't want to keep secrets, he doesn't want Regulus to become something he has to hide.

Sirius wasn't happy, but James stood his ground. He said he likes Regulus, that the person he's seeing isn't the same person Sirius remembers and if Sirius loves him as much as he claims he does, he will let James make his opinion about Regulus on his own.

Sirius wasn't home when James was getting ready to leave. He was at the workshop, painting and probably sulking. Peter and Remus assured James that he was doing the right thing, that if he wanted to see Regulus, he had every damn right to.

James blinks the tears of frustration away, letting out a shaky huff of an exhale. This situation is so consuming, and he doesn't want to hurt anyone. Peter promised him he's not being selfish by seeing who he wants to see, but James just isn't sure.

Is he being selfish by still seeing Regulus when he knows it's hurting Sirius?

He doesn't want to fall out and lose Sirius after all these years. Being without Sirius is like being without a limb, and James can't bare to think of that.

Will his best friend leave him for this?

Will Regulus decide it's not working and he won't see James unless he drops Sirius?

What if—

The car door opens suddenly, startling James out of his spiralling thoughts. He jumps, letting out a gasp of surprise, and turns to see Regulus half-climbed into the car.

Regulus looks guilty, blinking as if he wasn't sure what happened.

"Sorry," he says, slowly climbing in and shutting the door softly. "Didn't mean to make you jump."

"It's fine," James smiles, unable to stop himself. Regulus might look exhausted slumped in the car seat, hair wild and with dark bags hung beneath his eyes, but he’s never looked more edible. "How was it?"

"Same shit, different day," Regulus sighs, shoving his bag between his feet and slumping back into the seat. "And about 12 hours too long. Sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting long?"

"Oh, no," James shakes his head, lying through his teeth. "I got here like 10 minutes ago."

It’s the quickest and smoothest lie he’s ever told, though he’s sure he only gets away with it because Regulus doesn’t seem to have the energy to try and figure him out.

"Ready to go?"

"Absolutely," Regulus mumbles around a yawn.

They haven't been driving for five minutes when James counts Regulus' fifth yawn. James suddenly feels bad. Regulus has just done more than 12 hours of work, he looks dead on his feet and every time James glanced across at him, he's more and more slumped in the seat.

"Are you sure you want to go out tonight?"

Regulus lifts his head off where he'd rested it against the window.

"Changed your mind already?" Regulus asks, and despite the cocky tone, James can see the sudden uncertainty in his eyes, the droop of disappointment in his expression.

He wants this too.

He wants to try too.

"No, of course not," James smiles, glancing at him, "I just. . . you look knackered, and I feel bad making you go out after a 12 hour shift—"

"It’s fine," Regulus interrupts. "It’s not the first time I’ve got plans after a shift at work, and it won’t be the last. I’ll be fine after a shower, promise."

James breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay."

Silence stretches for a while. If James wasn’t driving, he knows he’d be fidgeting himself senseless. He feels more and more twitchy as the silence in the car goes on, forcing himself to focus on the road instead of the fact that he doesn’t know what to say to the man beside him.

Its never felt like this with Regulus before. There’s never been this awkward small talk, or tension thick enough to make James feel like he’s choking on it. It’s always been smooth, easy. That’s why James has always craved to be around him. He thrives in the simplicity of it, the way Regulus has always made him feel like he can be himself.

James feels blindsided by the way it is between them now. He’s never been in a situation before where he hasn’t been able to make conversation. He feels uncomfortable, and he’s sure Regulus does too.

James just doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to make Regulus regret doing this, regret giving James another chance. The topic of Sirius is a no-go, and James respects that, but anything being discussed about the last month practically centres back to the catastrophic event of New Years.

James doesn’t want to talk about Sirius either. He just wants to spend time with Regulus, the pretty and intimidating doctor he was hypnotised by all those months ago and has come to realise is just a soft, slightly bitter, pessimistic piece of spicy ass that James wants to spend the rest of his days with. He wants to listen to Regulus laugh again, to get tipsy on drinks and hear him speak the ridiculous amount of languages he knows. He wants Regulus to get comfortable around him again, to let down his guard and be himself.

They never put a label on what they had before New Years. They never discussed it or decided 'what they were', but James knows it was special. It was something he’s never experienced before, and he doesn’t want to lose it. He wants it back, he’s been craving it like oxygen.

"How. . ." Regulus starts, but it comes out as a croak. He clears his throat softly, and then repeats, "How have you been?"

"Good," James nods. "Uh, haven't done much, if I'm honest."

"Oh," Regulus murmurs.

"It’s been nice, though," James tries. "Y’know, to not do a lot after Christmas being so busy. I’ve been helping out a bit at the Pettigrew cafe, but that’s about it."

"Did you watch the New Years Bake Off special?"

James grins. "Of course. Though, all it did was really make me crave a yule log. I ended up going out and buying one at like 10 at night. It was surprisingly hard to find somewhere open that still had them."

Regulus chuckles softly, and James feels some of the tightness in his chest ease. This is nice, he thinks.

When they get to Regulus' flat, James begins to wonder if he should wait in the car or come up. He doesn't want to intrude, but he also doesn't want to make it weird by staying down in the car and waiting like a taxi driver.

Regulus pauses when he gets out, frowning at him. "Aren't you coming?"

"Of course!" James stutters, "I just didn't know if you'd want me to come up or stay here, so I— sorry. Yes, I'm coming— I—"

"James," Regulus sighs. "If this is all going to be too weird for you—"

"No!" James interrupts. He takes a shaky breath, forcing himself to calm down. "No. I— it's not weird. I just. . . I don't want to overstep."

Regulus frowns, running a hand through his hair. James watches as the curls bounce back into place immediately.

"Come on," he murmurs. "You're not overstepping by coming in. I want you to."

James beams, nodding. He unbuckles his seatbelt and practically dives out of the car, locking it up and chasing Regulus up to the front door of the building.

Regulus’ flat is just how he remembers it. Not that James was expecting it to be different, but it’s a gentle familiarity to see it as it was all those weeks ago. Books and blankets everywhere, plants still thriving and overhanging their pots.

"Is. . ." James motions to the blankets and pillow laid out on the sofa, and the bag of clothes beside it. "Have you got a roommate?"

"Barty's staying over. His flat flooded weeks ago so he's been sleeping on the sofa," Regulus says, shrugging a shoulder. "Don’t worry, he's on a night shift tonight. He's not here, so you can relax."

James nods.

Regulus leaves to shower, so James slumps down on the sofa.

It’s kind of a relief to know Regulus hasn’t been alone all these weeks. If Regulus has been feeling anything like James, he’s happy the younger male has had someone to keep him company, or for better words, keep an eye on him. James knows he would have been a pretty hot mess if he hadn’t had Peter around to help him function like a normal human being. James can’t say he’s ever clicked with Barty enough to know the two of them are friends, and James is sure, considering the last time James saw him Barty was being held back from kicking their faces in, that they are definitely not friends now. But James knows Barty is good to those he  cares about, and that if Barty’s reaction to Sirius was anything to go by, then Barty has got Regulus’ back.

James knows that Regulus didn't like it when they all kept praising him for looking after Remus when Sirius was there, but James does genuinely think he was brave for it. It would have been easy for Regulus to walk past, to be too intimidated to approach because of Sirius and decide that someone else can deal with it. James knows he wouldn't have been brave enough to do it, that his brain wouldn't have allowed him to put aside all that had happened and focus on the task at hand. Remus told James that Sirius was impressed by it, despite not telling Regulus so. Sirius apparently was too nervous to approach Regulus afterwards to thank him for helping Remus, but James knows if Sirius had done it, the gratitude would have gone a long way for Regulus.

James spends so long thinking about how Regulus has been coping since the reintroduction to Sirius that he doesn't hear the shower shut off. He doesn't notice Regulus slipping out of the bathroom and into his room. He doesn't realise how much time has passed until suddenly, Regulus is standing by the kitchen island.

He looks striking. Dressed in all black from head to toe, from the shoes to the tight jeans to the black long-sleeve turtle neck. His dark hair is wound in thick curls, cradling his face and curling round his ears. The only splash of colour on his whole body is the small detail of yellow stitching around the soles of his shoes.

James has to swallow the onslaught of saliva in his mouth to stop himself from drooling. He stands up, feeling like he’s floating off the sofa and across the room.

"You okay?" Regulus whispers.

James nods.

He’s more than okay. He’s so much more.

"Hi," he says, holding his hand out. "I’m James Potter,"

Regulus frowns, looking down at the hand. His eyes dart up, looking up from under his dark fringe. "What are you doing?"

"We agreed to start again," James shrugs. "This is a fresh start. I want to get to know you, and if we’re going to do this, we’re doing it from the start."

Regulus is staring at him, eyes huge. A moment later, his ivory skin glows pink, and his lips twitch upwards in a shy, sweet smile.

"Okay," he murmurs, and James’ heart just soars.

"Hi," he repeats, holding his hand higher. "I’m James Potter."

Regulus smirks at him, shaking the hand. "Regulus Black."

"Lovely to meet you, Regulus," James grins. "Will you go out with me tonight?"

"Okay," he nods. "Where do you want to go?"

"I’m feeling Italian. You like Italian, right?"

Regulus’ cheeks go a brighter pink, and James wonders if he’s remembering their first date too.

"I do," Regulus murmurs. He looks up at James, eyes hungry and dark. James feels like he could fall into them. James watches his eyes flick down to his lips, and his own mouth goes dry. "Don’t drive tonight. We’ll get a taxi, I know just the place for our 'first date'."

James suddenly feels very hot.

"Are you going to get me drunk, Regulus Black?"

Regulus smirks up at him. "Maybe. They do fantastic cocktails."

"How exciting," James smiles.

The place Regulus takes them to, is the last place James would have ever imagined him in. It’s a hole in the wall type Italian-bar restaurant. James doesn’t even recognise the place in London it’s in, which impresses him as he thrives on his natural knowledge of his home city.

The place is small, and has a family-home feeling to it due to the mismatched furniture and age-worn bar at the side. The menu reads the options in Italian and English, and the meals remind him of traditional, warm Italian food.

After they’ve ordered their food, the waiter brings their drinks over. James went for a classic gin and tonic, the enormous list of cocktails too intimidating for him to choose one from. He eyes up Regulus’ glass, and marvels in the fact that it looks like a fancy glass of Guinness beer.

"What is that?" James asks.

Regulus frowns down at his glass. "This?"

James nods. "It looks like Guinness."

Regulus blinks at him. A moment later, he nudges it towards James.

"Try it," he says. "You’ll recognise it when you try it."

James does, and his mouth explodes with the taste of coffee, cream and vanilla. His eyes widen, licking his lips.

"Oh my god," he whispers. "This is delicious!"

Regulus chuckles at him, shaking his head.

"You’ve never had an espresso martini?"

"I’ve never had a martini before!" James exclaims, taking another sip with a groan of pleasure. "This is amazing!"

"You’ve. . . what? James, you’re, what, 25 years old and you’ve never had a martini?" Regulus asks in disbelief. Suddenly, his face falls. "Oh no. Please, don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that drinks beer and beer only!"

James rolls his eyes at the dramatic betrayal in Regulus’ tone. "I drink more than beer, but I can’t say I’ve had a lot of cocktails."

"Why?"

James shrugs, taking another small sip of the cocktail. "Never really go to places that do them, or if they do, vodka and JD is cheaper."

"This might be the final straw," Regulus whispers in horror.

James looks up and frowns. "What?"

"I can’t believe I’m spending time with someone who’s never tried a martini before," Regulus shakes his head, seeming actually pained. "You’re a martini virgin."

"Not anymore," James grins. He nods to the glass in his hand, "It’s good. Thank you, Regulus Black, for taking my martini virginity."

"You’re welcome. It was my accidental pleasure," Regulus smirks, tilting his head. "If you like the espresso one, you should try the passionfruit or apple next. Pandora says they’re the best ones."

"You don’t agree?"

"I have an undying loyalty to espresso ones," the younger man shrugs. "They’ve gotten me through some hard times during exam weeks in university."

"I can’t believe I’ve never had one of these before!" James says again, having another sip. The froth sits on his upper lip. "They’re so delicious!"

"I’m not getting that back, am I?"

James eyes his barely touched glass of gin and tonic. "Trade?"

Regulus rolls his eyes, but swipes the glass up.

The dinner is everything James wanted it to be. The food is lovely, warm and homely. Regulus relaxes more and more as they talk and drink. True to his word, he introduces James to passionfruit and apple martinis, and before James knows it, he’s on the wrong side of tipsy.

They talk about ridiculous stuff that’s happened at the hospital. James tells him about his catastrophic times babysitting the Pettigrew children with Peter. James talks about the dinner he had round his parents the other night and Monty’s poor attempt at making homemade spicy bean burgers.

The night flows like it belongs. James feels giddy and happy. Regulus laughs like the weight of the world isn’t on his shoulders, grinning from ear to ear when James recounts the incident of him and Peter trying to do a nice thing for Peter’s mum the other week and bake cookies but ended up burning them so bad they couldn’t get them off the baking trays and had to throw the cookies and trays away.

When they leave, James doesn’t hesitate to grab Regulus’ hand as they walk out. On the streets, he pulls Regulus flush against him, unable to stop himself any longer.

He’s wanted to kiss Regulus since the younger man climbed in his car hours before, and now as they stand on the pavement, London settling down around them, he can’t hold back any longer.

Regulus doesn’t hesitate when James pulls him close. He goes in, sliding right up so they’re pressed together. His arms go around James’ neck, fingers threading in the short hairs at the base of his head.

James doesn’t want to be cheesy, but kissing Regulus is the best thing in the world. It sparks a fire in him like nothing else. His nerves sing and he feels every fibre in his body come to life. His skin becomes sensitive, hyperaware of every inch of clothing on his body. Regulus’ lips are warm and soft, palpable against his as he kisses back with just as much hunger. He feels dizzy, all the blood rushing to his groin and his oxygen cut off by the desperation to never separate from Regulus ever again.

Regulus pulls away first, but he doesn’t go far. He leans back enough to breath, his forehead resting against James’, their noses resting side by side.

"Back to my place?" Regulus asks.

James begs. "Please."

James doesn’t remember the taxi drive back to Regulus’ flat. It’s a blur of kissing and feeling as much of Regulus as he can through the clothes covering his body. He’s painfully tight in his jeans, breathless and so fucking horny. James doesn’t care if the taxi driver sees them making out on his backseats. The taste of Regulus is addicting, the feeling of his lips and the sounds of his small, breathless moans into James’ mouth is enough to wipe his mind of any embarrassment at being witnessed.

Suddenly, they’re in Regulus’ flat, feet scrambling to walk them together.

"Bedroom," Regulus whispers against his lips. "Right now."

James nods. Deciding that trying to walk and make out at the same time is taking too long, he hooks his arms under Regulus’ ass and lifts him up. Regulus’ legs wrap around his waist instantly, and James palms Regulus’ clothed ass as he walks them through to the bedroom. Regulus grinds on him suddenly, and James quivers and groans so hard he almost drops him. At his reaction, Regulus chuckles devilishly, pulling away from his mouth to kiss and suck down the length of his jaw and neck.

In the bedroom, James lowers Regulus down on the bed, laying him flat on his back over the sheets. Regulus' legs fall open, and James crawls between them and continues to kiss his mouth. He cradles Regulus' head in his hands, holding it like it's the most precious thing in the world. Regulus' hair is splayed on the bed like a dark, curly halo around his head. Regulus' own arms are wrapped around James' neck, holding on and keeping their upper bodies flush together, rolling and grinding in sync.

They’re kissing is desperate, hungry, starving. James has never felt so desperate to feel someone, to kiss every inch of them. It’s slightly sloppy, borderline messy, but James doesn’t care. They both want this— need this. It’s been so long, and so much has happened that James just wants the physical need to go away.

A raging, relentless heat burns down James's spine like a bowling ball steadily rolling and hitting every vertebrae one by one. He detaches from Regulus' mouth, kissing along the slopes of his cheek bones, over the sharp curve of his jaw. He kisses down his neck, mouthing at the pulsating point he's been thinking about all evening. Regulus is panting and squirming underneath him, making the most delicious sounds when James teasingly sucks for a moment on the throbbing pulse in his neck.

"James," Regulus whines, rolling his hips up and grinding his clothed cock against whatever he can reach.

James grins against his neck, scraping his own teeth gently down his jugular and chuckling lowly when Regulus shudders. He crawls down the younger mans body, shucking up the black top up to his armpits and pressing a gentle, delicate kiss to one of the nipples on his chest.

"F-fuck," Regulus whispers as James tightens his grip on his waist, sounding breathless.

"Sensitive?" James teases.

Regulus groans lowly, "Like you wouldn’t believe."

James grins, kissing the other nipple before trailing kisses down his stomach. He sits back on his hunches, Regulus’ legs still bent on either side of him. Regulus lifts his head, hair wild and pupils blown. James flashes him a wolfish smile, knowing he’s as flushed and debauched as Regulus is.

He unzips the jeans slowly, smirking when Regulus’ hips buck sharply, a high whine coming from up the bed. James risks a glance, and a burning heat pools inside him when he sees Regulus practically withering, chest heaving and breaths coming out like punches.

Pulling the trousers down the long length of his legs, James gently brushes his fingers over the obvious swell of Regulus’ pants he’s left clothed over the younger mans cock. Regulus curses, letting out a small groan.

"James, please—"

"Shh," he strokes the sharp jut of the younger mans hipbone. "Patience."

"Patience?" Regulus snaps.

James chuckles, but concedes. He pulls down the last remaining clothing protecting Regulus’ privacy and watches as the hard and straining cock bounces free. His mouth floods with saliva when Regulus' cock hits his stomach with a wet noise, making James bite back a moan. Regulus rushes to kick off his trousers and boxers so they’re off his legs, James helping get them past his feet when the younger male begins to flail frantically to get them all the way off.

Regulus lets out the longest, most obscene moan, borderline a cry, when James takes his cock in his large hand. He jacks slowly, stroking and teasing the end.

Regulus writhers and quivers underneath him, head thrown back on the pillows and mouth open in a breathless moan. James leans down, licking a long stripe up the shaft, twirling his tongue over the sensitive head.

Regulus curses, melting into the bed, spread out and bucking up his hips.

James takes Regulus in whole, and the sound that comes out of Regulus' mouth is absolutely astounding: long, stretched out moans and swallowed whimpers. James spares a glance up, finding Regulus panting, face flushed and eyes blown.

James begins to bob his head up and down, so determined to make Regulus feel good enough to melt into the bed like a pile of mush that he desperately swallows down the coughs when Regulus’ cock hits the back of his throat.

After a few minutes, Regulus makes a keening sound beneath him. James can feel the tense, pulsating member in his mouth, and he knows Regulus is close. He palms Regulus’ balls, and with a strangled cry and a twitch of his hips, it seems to send Regulus head-first over the edge.

James swallows it all down, and when he lifts his head and gently kisses the tip of the softening dick, Regulus whimpers.

He looks up at Regulus, who’s face is flushed and his chest heaving.

"My turn."

Regulus sits up like a shot. He yanks James’ shirt over his head, and then flips them so he’s pushing James’ down onto the bed. James goes easily, heat pooling in his stomach. He’s aching and tight in his boxers, his trousers constricting enough to make him whimper like a wounded animal.

Regulus grins at him, and James already knows he’s in for a world of teasing and menace. Regulus seems to like to play, to get James hot and bothered before he even starts.

When Regulus reaches for the zip with his mouth and slowly pulls it open with his teeth, James almost shoots his shot right there and then in his boxers. He feels like a teenager again, barely able to hold back as Regulus agonisingly slowly inches his jeans lower and lower past his hips.

He takes the jeans down to James’ ankles, much like James did for him, and James instantly kicks them off fully. Regulus hooks a finger in the waist band of his boxers, but he doesn’t pull them down before he mouths at the straining bulge in his pants.

"Reg— please, fucking hell!" James gasps, groans punching out from deep in his throat.

Regulus laughs against his cock, low and gravely, sending shocks up James’ spine. Regulus must take sympathy then, because he pulls James’ boxers down and clean off before he can blink.

James doesn’t get a moment to appreciate the freedom of having his cock final free from the right confines of his boxers before Regulus is kissing up the inside of his thigh, bitting the flesh. When he reaches James’ groin, he licks up the underside of his cock slowly and steady, resting his lips barely against the dripping head. James looks down, panting like he's run a marathon. The sight of Regulus looking up through ridiculously dark and long lashes is enough to almost send him over the edge, and then Regulus is taking him in full.

James lets out a low and long, stuttering groan as the heat of Regulus' mouth surrounds him. His whole body is trembling embarrassingly on the bed, his legs falling limp and quivering as Regulus swallows his whole length. His entire body is on fire, but the focus is in his cock as it throbs and pulsates to the rhythm of Regulus' mouth surrounding him.

"Fuck!" he curses, panting through an open mouth.

He can't help but run his fingers through Regulus' hair and giving the dark locks a testing tug. When Regulus hollows his cheeks, James lets out a groan and drops his head back against the soft pillows. He's panting, sweat dotted along all of his body. He's trembling, brain short-circuiting.

He feels completely consumed by pleasure. His mind is offline to everything but the wet heat surrounding his cock. Regulus is teasing him, teetering him along the edge slowly and quickly all at once. He can't help but grind once or twice, his hips practically twitching against his control.

He's getting close, so close, and if Regulus doesn't stop now he's not going to be able to hold back. His stomach is in knots, every part of him pulsating and hot and tight and—

James can’t take it much more. If he doesn’t stop now, he’s going to come before he gets a chance to get inside Regulus.

Regulus makes a protesting noise when James pulls him off, but the older male shushes him quickly.

"Do you have lube?" James asks, panting.

Regulus rolls his eyes as if the question was ridiculous, and he reaches over James to one of the beside cabinets to pull out a bottle and a condom. James takes them both in one hand, the other arm wrapping around Regulus’ waist and flipping them. Regulus lets out a startled gasp as he’s suddenly on his back again, staring up at James with dark eyes and flushed cheeks. James grins, kissing his shock-slacked lips before generously coating his fingers with the lube. He kisses Regulus again, swallowing Regulus’ breathless moans as he reaches down and circles Regulus' hole slowly, slicking him up. When he finally pushes a finger in, Regulus is tight and hot, moaning loudly as James opens him up slowly.

It’s not long before he’s ready and slides in a second finger.

"Fuck, James!" Regulus whines abruptly, back arching beautifully.

James leans down and kisses and bites at Regulus’ nipples.

"Soon," he promises.

He works his fingers quickly, scissoring them to stretch Regulus as fast as he can. It only takes a few minutes before James has a third finger in, working and thrusting his digits into Regulus' hole.

"Shit," Regulus curses, "I'm ready, James. I’m good. Just— please! James, get inside already—"

Regulus incoherent begs and pleas are cut off when James's fingers slip free and he grabs the condom from the bed, ripping it open and sliding it on quickly.

"Shh, I got you, baby," he murmurs, getting up on the bed and lining himself up, dick nudging against Regulus' hole. He pushes forward an inch, the ring of muscle stretching around the head. He stares down at it for a moment, listening to Regulus moan, to his own breath being punched out of his lungs.

"Ready?" He asks.

Regulus nods, head bobbing frantically. James grins at how wilted apart he looks, completely different from the normally put-together doctor James always sees.

James grabs hold of Regulus' hips before he slides in completely, his cock disappearing inside Regulus.

Regulus' hole is hot and tight around him. He stills for a second, drinking in the moment of complete bliss.

"James," Regulus growls sharply, "Move."

James says nothing, just takes one look at Regulus' face below him before he pulls back and slams in.

Regulus wails in pleasure underneath him, meeting James's hard and quick thrusts. James finds Regulus impossibly breathtaking below him, neck and collarbones red with love-bites, eyes closed and face lax. His hair is darker with sweat, the curls laid out around his head like a fucking halo. There is a single damp curl against his forehead, bouncing and springing with each thrust between them.

James grips Regulus' hips so hard as he moves that he’s sure they’ll be bruised before morning. The sight of Regulus spread out beneath him makes James want more, need and ache for so much more. He pushes Regulus' legs further open and presses his body flush with the smaller one beneath him. He attaches his lips to Regulus’, biting his bottom lip.

James grabs underneath one of Regulus’ knees, bending it up at the same time that Regulus raises his pelvis to meet his own.

"James—shit! I'm gonna— I need—"

"Reg," James cuts him off, sliding a hand between their stomachs and taking Regulus' leaking cock between his fingers. He tilts Regulus' hips up, nailing his prostate and thrusting faster as he pumps the slick member between them. "I've got you," he murmurs over Regulus' groans, "Come for me, Reg."

Regulus screams as he comes, nails scratching down the skin of James's back. His hole clenches and spasms around James's cock, pulsating and pushing James over the last hurdle before he's coming too. His second orgasm is punched out of him. Regulus moans his name, his spilling cock coating their stomachs.

Panting, James rests his forehead against Regulus', barely stopping himself from collapsing on the younger male. Regulus wraps his arms weakly around James's shoulders, a loose attempt to hug hims while James runs his hands up and down the smaller mans flank.

For a long time, all that can be heard is fast and hard panting between them. The room is filled with the smell of sweat and sex.

After a few minutes of them catching their breaths, James pulls out, both of them groaning from the movement. He quickly pulls off the condom, glancing around the room and after spotting the bin, he tosses it in there and makes a mental note to remind Regulus to change that later. He collapses heavily on his back on the bed, their sweaty sides flush. Regulus doesn’t seem to hesitate to roll onto his side, and James pulls the younger male against him.

They lay like that for a while, just breathing together. Their legs stay tangled at the bottom of the bed, Regulus’ head is pillowed on James’ bare chest, his fingers lightly tracing the skin of James’ stomach. James keeps his face buried in Regulus’ hair, breathing him in and relishing in the warmth of the body laid against and over his own. He runs his hand up and down Regulus’ back, slow and soothing, almost hypnotically.

After a while, James allows his hand to travel higher. The feeling of Regulus’ sharp shoulders mould under his palms, smooth and still warm from their activities earlier. Absentmindedly, James fiddles with the fabric of Regulus’ top, rolling it between his fingers.

James lifts his head from Regulus’ hair, looking down the stretch of their limbs. He’s striped naked as the day he was born, and Regulus would be too, if he wasn’t still in his long sleeve.

James frowns slightly. It dawns on him then that he’s never seen Regulus completely topless. The nights they’ve spent together, even when they’ve got down to their birthday suits to drink up each others bodies and burn calories by moulding each other together, Regulus has never fully revealed himself. When they just sleep, James has assumed Regulus keeps tops or thin sweatshirts on because he gets cold, but even now, the flat is warm and they’re both sweating, Regulus is still half dressed.

"Reg?" James asks. He can feel his heart beginning to beat harshly, heavy and hard in his chest. He wonders if Regulus can hear and feel it from where his head is resting.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?" James asks, and then quickly adds with urgency, "You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want too."

It takes a moment for Regulus to reply. When he does, he sounds unsure.

"Okay," he whispers. "Shoot."

James draws in a shaky breath. He suddenly feels like he’s overstepping, and he knows he is, but the question is on the tip of his tongue, and he now can’t stop thinking about it.

"Why do you never take your top off when we have sex?"

James see’s and feels Regulus tense suddenly. Every muscle in the smaller mans body goes stiff, taunt, tight like they’re about to snap.

"Because there’s something I try to hide," Regulus whispers thickly.

"Okay."

Regulus lifts his head off James’ chest, and he looks down at him with a face oozing confusion and fear. "Okay?"

"Okay," James nods firmly.

Regulus frowns at him. "You don’t want to know more?"

"I shouldn’t have asked," James says, and he shouldn’t have. He can’t believe he did, and he feels like a right jerk for doing it in the first place. "You don’t have to tell me. It’s your body, Reg, and—"

Regulus sits up abruptly. It’s so fast and sudden that James reaches out to grab him, thinking he’s going to go toppling off the bed with the momentum. Regulus just looks down at James, expression so raw and vulnerable. His eyes are huge, dark, and he looks so damn scared that James starts to feel worried himself.

"Promise me you won’t look at me different," Regulus whispers.

"What?" James questions. "Reg, I don’t. . . I wouldn’t."

"Promise me," Regulus begs.

James feels blindsided by the urgency, but he nods with certainty.

"I promise."

For a moment, they’re both frozen. Regulus is looking down at him, eyes flicking across his face as if searching for the hint of a lie, the chance of twisted revenge in his face. James feels frozen stiff, anticipation making his heart race and muscles go tense.

Suddenly, Regulus is sitting back. He clasps the bottom of his shirt with his hands, then rips it over his head as fast as a blink. James keeps watching his face, scared to look down incase he sees something that he shouldn’t. Regulus meets his eyes, then he nods, and looks down.

James looks down too. Regulus has his arms outstretched, underside up.

A gasp slips out when he sees them.

One on each arm, there is a single jagged, white, raised scar that runs from the bottom of his palms to the crease of his elbow. They stand out against the pale, veiny skin like a beacon of light.

"Oh, Reg," James whispers. He reaches out, and then stops. He meets Regulus’ eyes, and his heart breaks at the fear and sadness in them. "Can I?"

Regulus shrugs, and a moment later, he nods stiffly.

The scars are uneven beneath his fingers. They were clearly stitched as neat as possible back together, but the evidence still remains. They stand stark and raised, scary against the harshly pale skin they’re carved into.

Regulus flinches when he touches them, body tense enough for it to look painful. James wants to hug him, he wants to pull the smaller man against him and make him feel better, make him feel safe. He wants to kiss the scars, find a way to make them disappear so Regulus never has to look at them again if he doesn’t want too.

"How much has Sirius told you about our family?" Regulus asks tentatively.

It’s the first mention of Sirius all night. James doesn’t know how to answer.

"A lot," James admits sheepishly. "Eventually, of course, only when he came to live with us. It kind of all came out, he didn’t really have a choice but to finally admit how they treated him. We didn’t know before, he was so good at hiding it. He managed to keep it from all of us for years."

"They were pretty bad," Regulus nods, looking down at his arms still stretched out and cradled in James’ hands. "They were always worse to Sirius, but Sirius always fought back. I couldn’t fight them like he could."

"You shouldn’t have had too," James insists. His throat feels thick with emotion, his voice coming out shaky. He looks up and meets Regulus’ eyes, his own vision swimming suddenly. "I’m sorry that we didn’t help you too."

Regulus just shakes his head. "You didn’t know."

And I hate myself for it.

"I do now, though. And it makes me feel sick to know that they treated you the same way and no one saved you."

Regulus lets out a tired, bitter laugh. He shakes his head, suddenly looking resigned. "I never expected to be saved."

It feels like a sucker punch to the gut. James almost whimpers.

"That’s not the point," he murmurs. "Someone should have noticed enough to do it for you."

"They didn’t get any better after Sirius left," Regulus confesses. He’s speaking quietly, as if he doesn’t want anyone else in the world to hear them. "We moved to France pretty soon after. They. . . they got worse when he was gone."

James looks down at Regulus’ arms, dread pooling in his stomach. They look like the wounds were serious, James can practically picture the gashes in his head.

"The scars. . . did they. . .?"

"No," Regulus replies, exhaling shakily. "It was me."

A wounded sound fills the room. James realises after a moment it came from him.

Regulus did this to himself. This isn’t a moment in loss of control. This wasn’t an accident or a mistake. These scars are long and deep. They were made with intention, and Regulus did them to himself.

James thinks he would have rather Regulus said it was his parents. Then James would have someone to be angry at instead of being angry at the world. Angry at the world for making Regulus feel so alone and hurt and trapped that his only option was to—

James can’t think about it. He can’t think the words in his head.

"How old were you?" He asks, voice cracking painfully. The scars are healed, but they don’t look old enough to be from when he was a child.

"17," Regulus answers. "It was a year before I came back to London."

James just nods. He doesn’t know what to say to that. He can put two to two together and knows that Regulus turned 17 after Sirius left, that it when he was alone in France with his abusive parents. Regulus said he did it to himself, and that hurts James more than anything ever before. James also knows from the depth and length of them, that there was only one goal in mind with these cuts.

"I’ve never told anyone that before."

James frowns slightly. "Why?"

"They make me feel weak."

James wonders if Regulus can hear his heart cracking in his chest at the confessions the younger boy is spilling.

This is what I wanted, James has to remind himself. He wants Regulus to open up, he wants the younger boy to feel comfortable enough to tell his side, to speak his truth.

James should have expected it to break his heart.

"You’re not weak," James says sternly. The notion of Regulus ever being weak is laughable. James brushes his thumb over one of the scars, "This never makes you weak. The person you are today proves that. You still being here today proves that."

"I told people it was from a car accident," Regulus explains. "I wear long sleeves at the hospital now. I only take my top off or wear short sleeves in front of those who have seen them before."

James nods. It makes sense now. Regulus kept his top on all this time so James wouldn’t see, so he wouldn’t ask and he wouldn’t have to spread this lie anymore.

James hopes Regulus will become comfortable enough to start to be topless around him. He hopes one day, Regulus won’t feel like he has to hide any part of him from James.

"Do you regret doing it?"

"Sometimes," Regulus shrugs. "Other times I remind myself they’re the reason I decided to get out."

"Then they don’t make you weak," James affirms. "They make you brave."

Regulus lets out a small, cracked laugh. He looks at James with huge eyes, watery and pained.

"I’m not brave."

"You seem pretty brave to me," James smiles. "Every time I learn new things about you, you prove to me you are."

Regulus just stares at him. James can see on his face that the younger man doesn’t believe him. James kisses his forehead, then his nose, along his cheeks. He plants a last kiss against his lips, pulling away enough to speak against them and whisper,

"You are brave, Regulus Black."

— tbc.