Dare
“Pads,” James starts, following quickly behind his friend as he flutters about the library light and fast on his feet, “what is it you’re looking for?”
Sirius just turns his head slightly to offer James a sly smile before returning to quite literally prancing about the library. They’re slowly moving towards the back of the big room, where the windows are always slightly cracked and the tables mostly empty. This is where Moony does most of his disappearing to. James continues to trip over his own feet as his shockingly agile best friend navigates the shelves and desks hastily.
“Padfoot, be serious please,” James pleads, tugging lightly on the hood of Sirius’ robes as the latter breaks into a wide grin and says, “I’m always Sirius.” James hates that he still laughs at that joke.
“You know what I meant, Pads. Where are you taking me? I really am not in the mood for studying right now,” James’ desperate tone falls on distracted ears, as Sirius pirouettes around a stack of textbooks at the foot of a random chair. They’ve made it to the edge of the library, where there are 4 wooden tables perpetually shoved together and 2 chairs at each. Sirius stops suddenly and turns to James, finally opening his mouth to say something.
“Prongs,” he starts, “I dare you to do Freddie.”
James pauses, looking stricken at Sirius’ already gloating face.
“Are you fucking serious right now,” James groans, running his hands over his face, “and dont mak ethat joke,” he cuts Sirius off as he starts to open his mouth, fixing his glasses after accidentally tugging them down his face.
He motions wildly around the room, “Sirius. You’ve got to be kidding. This is the bloody library!” Sirius simply nods, a massive grin plastered to his face as he pulls out a chair and motions for James to use it as stairs to the table.
“Can’t turn down a dare, Prongs, you should know,” Sirius grabs James hands from where he’d positioned them tugging loosely at his hair, “you actually invented that rule, you tosser.” James sighs.
Almost exactly 5 years ago now, the marauders played their first game of truth or dare. They never chose truth, and it lasted several hours. It had come to a temporary end when James had dared Sirius to not sit down all day, which they all agreed would have to be put on hold for the next day.
James valiantly upheld his rule that dares could not be turned down (“We’re all bloody Gryffindors! We’re supposed to be the brave ones!”). Sirius did not sit down all day. In fact, he got several hours of detentions for it from McGonagall but figured that was probably better than the wrath of James Potter.
After that day, it was Sirius’ turn to dare someone. Sirius waited two weeks before daring Peter to stand up in the middle of Breakfast one day, and run up to where the professors ate to sit with them.
The next week Peter dared Remus to jump into the black lake, completely randomly, in the middle of their care of magical creatures class. Remus stored his dare for a whole month before using it to make James do an assignment he’d been refusing to do. James, the next day, used his turn to make Remus do an assignment for him.
It’s been going on now for 5 years. Every turn takes longer now, typically due to none of them wanting to waste their dare. Sirius has been storing this one up since September.
“Alright,” James grunts, pushing himself up onto the table using the top of Sirius’ head, sufficiently messing up his hair in the process, “there will be revenge for this.” Sirius only grins wider in response, sitting down in the pulled out chair and crossing his legs in a pose of anticipation. Quite literally on the edge of his seat, raising an eyebrow at James.
James suddenly pictures a similar arched perfect eyebrow on Regulus, and how he raises it, how it's slightly thicker and more arched than Sirius’. How Regulus’ eyes squint a little when he does it.
James’ thoughts are interrupted as Sirius nudges his foot to get him to start, and so promptly James begins to sing.
“I can dim the lights, and sing you songs full of sad things,” Sirius motions for him to sing louder, “We can do the tango just for two,” now Sirius motions for him to start dancing. James swings his arms side to side and starts spinning around atop the tables, stumbling slightly on the small gaps where they’re shoved together.
“I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings,” Sirius is smiling brighter than the moon as people start sticking their heads around the shelves to get a view of the commotion James is creating, “be your valentino just for you.” And this is Sirius’ favorite part, so he stands up and starts clapping when James begins the chorus.
“Ooh love, Ooh loverboy, whatcha doin tonight? Hey, boy!” The curious heads have exited the cover of the shelves, and are now crowding around the table with Sirius, cheering James on as he dances more wildly and sings even louder. His voice cracks with his severe tone deafness and terrible pitch, but the more people come to watch, the bigger his smile gets as he spins and twirls on the tables. “Set my alarm, turn on my charm, that's because I’m a good old fashioned lover boy!”
James stops spinning to begin his faulty crooning of the second verse, and spots a head of black soft curls in a gap between two book stuffed shelves. He falters slightly, but recovers with a sort of hip wiggle as he sings, and watches as the pale boy he thinks of now almost every night steps out of the shelves and lingers behind the gathering crowd. James thinks he can make out a small smile on his face, as he hugs 2 rather large books to his flat chest.
“I’d like for you and I to go romancing,” Regulus stares at him, small smile gone, and James can see as he carves the stoicism back into marble face, “just say the word your wish is my command.” Regulus watches him carefully, eyes flicking from James’ ridiculous dancing down to the head of his older brother in the crowd.
James attracts quite the crowd, quite quickly, which does not bode well for his chances of escaping without a detention. The cheering and singing along is, at this point, drowning him out and definitely attracting the attention of one rather severe librarian. He sees Regulus’ mouth shape around muttered words, and suddenly feels the effect of a silencing spell cover the whole side of the library the mass of people is currently in. Regulus watches now, with that arched eyebrow high on his forehead, and his lips in a perfectly flat line.
“Dining at the Ritz we’ll meet at 9,” the group has gotten quite loud now, and even more people have begun packing into the tight spaces in and around the shelves. James is dancing animatedly, two stepping and attempting a terrible rendition of break dancing. Sirius is laughing harder than he has in weeks, and James is determined to get a smile back on Regulus’ face.
“Ooh, Love, there he goes again, ooh loverboy,” he drops down to jokingly grind on the table, flopping harshly on his stomach before recovering and sliding across the tables on his knees, gyrating and winking madly at the crowd. His gaze lands on Regulus after a particularly intense hip-wiggle, and he shoots finger guns directly at him. This causes Regulus’ face, much to James’ pleasure, to crack into an open mouthed smile, covering it quickly as his shoulders shake with laughter, ducking back into the shadows of the shelves.
With Regulus, goes the silencing spell, and so James quickly shoos the gathered students away and shushes them as he jumps quickly off the tables. He grabs Sirius to b-line straight to the exit, dragging him by his wrist through the masses and out the doors into the corridor. Sirius can’t seem to stop laughing, he’s hunched over, grabbing the wall as he slides down to the floor. He curls in on himself, tears slipping out of his laugh squinted eyes, absolutely besotted with James’ performance.
“Oh, Merlin,” he wheezes out, slapping his hand against the stone floor, “Prongs! You’re a legend, Godric, Prongs that might have been the best dare yet.” James sits beside him, laughing lightly to himself, “Really? What about when you made Remus play quidditch with us? There's no way this beats the way he screamed everytime he moved,” James laughs out, face warming fondly at the memory. Sirius seems to consider this for a moment, before shaking his head and affirming that, “no this takes the bloody cake, Prongs. Did you see how many people came?! And you didn't even get detention, mate, I haven’t got a clue how Pince didn't hear us.”
James recalls the smaller Black, and the mumbled spell from the back of the shelves.
“I have no idea Pads, no clue.” James leans against Sirius as they lightly kick each other's feet on the floor in front of them. Sirius has calmed down slightly, wiping away some stray tears on James’ robes and smiling fondly at the air already replaying the memory over na dover in his head, “we need to tell Moony and Wormtail,” he declares, “right now,” he stands up and drags James quickly with him.
It’s a little after lunch now, so Remus should be back in their dorm, and likely Peter too since he hadn’t been in the library. The corridors are mostly empty, since most students are in class or free period, which most people have been electing to spend outside to soak up the last bits of sun before the gray Scottish winter begins. Sirius and James sprintin bursts in the empty halls, and promptly slow down to a casual stroll whenever another student comes into view.
Sirius very nearly eats it off a staircase when it starts to move mid-sprint, and James has to grab the hood of his robe to stop him running right off the edge. They sit on the top step as the stairs rotate, and catch their breath as they jokingly push each other closer to falling off. James stands up first when the stair connects to a hall again, and seeing the hall is entirely empty gives Sirius a sort of inquisitive look. Sirius responds with his own face of suggestion.
Quickly they’re replaced by a massive stag and a fluffy black dog running through the abandoned corridors by the Gryffindor tower. Prongs loves being inside Hogwarts. He always loves the sound of his hooves on the stone floor, and how it makes kids flee thinking it's the all too familiar sound of Minerva McGonagall on her way to scold them. This very sound guarantees them safe passage to the fat lady, who screams near loud enough to wake the dead when they trot up to her. Padfoot spins around and chases his tail to distract her, as Prongs transforms back into James out of her view. Wouldn’t want her going and telling Dumbledore she saw two students form out of two animals in the hall. He motions for Padfoot to follow him into an empty corner, out of the portraits sight. He scratches Padfoot’s head lightly before stepping back so he can become Sirius again. He never stops being a little freaked out from watching that happen, but as soon as Sirius is back their howling with laughter again and bounding over to the fat lady to go inside.
“Did you two see two large animals on your way here?” She asks, shock and fear clear in her wavering high tone. Sirius and James exchange a look of pure confusion, eyebrows raised and mouths agape. “I’ve seen no such thing,” James claims. “Ma’am have you been day drinking again?” Sirius asks. James has to bite his tongue to hold back his laughter, looking over to see Sirius red in the face with holding back his own. The fat lady scoffs, guffaws, and rolls her eyes all at once.
“Wormroot,” James says to her, struggling to speak over the bubble of laughter held in his throat. She simply sighs, sips from the painted glass of wine beside her, and swings open for them to pass through. Sirius trips over the ledge, rolling into the common room loudly swarmed with James’ bellowing laugh and welcome applause from the students within.
“James!” Lily exclaims, jumping up from her seat next to Marlene on the couch, “did you actually sing Queen in the library or my friends just trying to stress me out.” She stands in front of him in a light brown sweater, tucked into a fitted plaid skirt hitting her thighs a few inches above her knit stockings. She crosses her arms over each other on her chest, and purses her lips as she waits for his response.
Sirius clambers up from the ground and tosses an arm casually over James’ shoulders, grinning bright at Lily, “our lovely James surely put on a show, sorry you missed it, Lils!” He tugs James away and up the stairs as Lily rolls her eyes and sighs back into her previous seat, remarking to Marlene, “we are friends with such idiots.”
Sirius smiles, so James smiles, and they laugh the rest of their way up to the dorm. Inside waits Remus, laid flat on his stomach on his bed, book open and tattered in front of him. Peter is sitting on his own bed, scribbling vigorously on a yellowing piece of parchment with a well bitten quill. They both look up as soon as Sirius and James burst in, loud and unafraid to ceaselessly bother their friends.
“Oh what did you two do,” Remus immediately asks, sitting up straight on his bed, tucking one leg folded under the other which dangles off his bed. Sirius very happily obliges in telling him the story.
–
Regulus has found his way to the stars again. He’s sitting on the ledge, legs over the cut off, dangling several hundred feet above the rolling hills. It’s getting colder, so he’s wearing an old sweater and a shirt underneath it. The sweater itches slightly at his neck, and he keeps scratching at it until it stings.
He’s wearing the pajama pants Barty bought him last Christmas to match with Ev and him. They're red and green, covered in little green snakes in little red santa hats. Regulus will never admit this, but they make him exceptionally happy every time he wears them. Not to mention they're insanely soft, and he’s pretty sure there's a permanent warming charm on them.
He took his shoes off to avoid dropping them down the side of the tower, and sat them behind him by a pillar he remembers James leaning on. Stop thinking about James Potter, his brain orders. He tries, he really does.
The problem is, James is rather hard to avoid. Even in his mind. Regulus had spent half of today replaying James’ grand library performance in his head, and hearing murmurings of it in every hall he passed through. He kept thinking about how absolutely embarrassing James was, and consistently wondered why in Merlin's name one would ever want to do a thing like that. He keeps thinking about James’ complete disregard for the idea of being punished. He was very blatantly disturbing the peace, and he’s lucky Madam Pince didn't hear him before Regulus cast that spell.
He also keeps wondering why he cast that spell. It’s not like Potter and him are friends; cordial acquaintances if anything. Potter had been surprisingly tolerable that night Regulus found him in the kitchens, and genuinely hadn’t bothered him since. It had only been a couple of days, but Regulus assumes James works in dog years with his level of competence, so he’d award him his indifference.
Regulus had not expected to see James that night, and had in fact sought out the kitchens as the one place he thought he couldn't be found. He guesses he wasn't necessarily found, if anything he did the finding, but he’s still slightly annoyed. James had just been sitting there in his perfectly pressed pajamas, talking casually with the house elves. And wasn't James Potter supposed to be stuck up? Arrogant and rude? What an image shattering experience for the poor lad. Maybe that’s why he’d been so weird, he probably felt caught.
Regulus assumes James only asked him questions at all out of his obnoxious need to befriend everyone, he sincerely doubts James Potter actually cares about him, or his grape preference. Somehow, though, it’s impossible for Regulus to avoid James.
Today after lunch he’d gone to the library to catch up on his history readings, choosing the back corner tables since they’re typically deserted. Except for, sometimes, that tall friend of his brothers with the scars and the sweaters, but he always keeps to himself and Regulus honestly doesn't think he even realizes there’s anyone else there when Regulus sits at the table furthest from him. Today, he’d sat in the chair closest to the window, at the 4 tables someone had pushed together years ago.
He heard his obnoxious older brothers laugh before he’d seen him, and he swiftly packed up and hid in the shelves behind them. He had planned to go back to his dorm when he thought he heard singing, and Regulus is terrible at denying himself his curiosity. It was James, of course it was, who was singing. His voice was shockingly good, despite a few bumps and cracks in pitch. It was smooth and deep, his accent somehow more prominent as he sang. He didn’t notice Regulus until a minute or so later, after the crowd had developed and Regulus had falsely assumed it would hide him.
James bloody Potter and his absolutely relentless staring.
Regulus swung his sock clad feet a bit in the crisp night air, and sighed into the open space around him. His shoulders slouched into the posture his mother would probably smack out of him, and he blew out a long held breath. He lays down on his back, legs still hooked over the edge of the floor, and stares up at the open ceiling above him. He tries very hard to think about something else.
“Bit cloudy for stargazing, innit?” A deep voice asks from the doorway. Regulus sits up with a start, whipping his head around to find none other than the person he was very much not thinking about staring back at him.
“Did your parents never teach you it’s impolite to stare, Potter?” He scoffs in his direction, facing back toward the hills, posture straight and rigid.
“No, not really,” he says, honesty always clear in his voice, “but if you mind it I’ll just have to join you in looking at whatever it is you’re looking at.” As he speaks James steps towards Regulus’ ledge, and sits right down next to him. He sticks his longer legs out right next to Regulus’, swinging them over the edge and sitting face forward beside Regulus’ taught figure.
“You are the most annoying person I have ever met,” Regulus remarks, scooting an inch or so away from Potter's warm side, pointedly not looking anywhere near him. James laughs lightly, the noise airy, and lighter than his typical boisterous guffaw, rolling off his tongue and mingling with the fuzzy air around Regulus’ head. “What’s funny, Potter?” He asks him, angling his voice to be as prickly as he currently feels.
“Oh, nothing much,” is James’ reply, left over huffs of laughter seeping out as he continues, “just, you really are quite blunt, aren't you?” Regulus fidgets with his socks, lifting one foot into his lap with a bent knee, picking at loose wool strands and shifting to face James for no reason other than that the wind was making his eyes sting.
“I see no reason to ever not be,” Regulus responds, shocked by his own voice as he hears truth in his tone, “I don’t like playing nice.” James turns to fully face him, now. Smiling. Full on smiling, that blinding sunlight smile stark against the night sky behind him. “Oh, but you can be nice, then?” James inquires, eyebrow quirking above his staring eye.
“Sometimes, when I choose to be, to the people I choose to be nice too,” he shares, trying to lean out of James’ immediate line of vision. James simply turns more, and not once breaks eye contact.
“You’re nice to the house elves,” James says, tone as if he’s asking a question, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.
“Proper observant of you, that,” Regulus says flatly, “I don’t see why that's so shocking.” He swaps feet, extending his left leg back over the ledge and pulling his right foot into his open lap. He starts twisting the sock around his ankle, plucking at strings and pulling the bit above his ankle up and down.
“Didn’t think the Most Noble House of Black was all that fond of house elves,” James states, releasing his well bitten lip and swinging his feet lightly over the drop off.
“I’m not the Most Noble House of Black, am I?” Regulus replies dryly, “I exist outside of grimmauld place, you know.” He pulls both feet into his lap, sitting criss crossed and hugging his knees loosely to his chest. James seems to pause for a moment. His face looks like it’s lagging slightly and his feet have stopped swinging beneath them. His mouth is open like he has something to say, but all that’s coming out are small puffs of air.
“Well, no,” James starts, finally properly sorting through his thoughts, “I really don't know, Regulus.” He shifts closer to Regulus, covering up the few inches Regulus had scraped between them with his jean clad thighs. He looks at Regulus with that open expression he had that night at Sirius’ party, like all his thoughts are accessible just by looking in his eyes.
Regulus lets himself fully face James, swiveling his curled up body toward him, tucking his knees under his chin and looking straight into those open eyes. He asks James, voice quieter than he’d wanted it to be, “Why do you want to know?”
James lifts his legs up and sits criss crossed on the floor opposing Regulus, both now fully facing one another. His jeans are worn around his knees, the denim slightly lighter there than anywhere else. He’s wearing a deep gryffindor red jumper, adorned with his quidditch number on the front and back. His glasses are perfectly straight for once, and his hair looks shockingly neat, like maybe he just washed it.
He pulls the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands as he speaks, “I just do, I’m not quite sure why.” He pauses to read Regulus’ face, which he hopes isn't betraying him as he tries to keep it as neutral as possible. “I think maybe we could have been friends, if things had gone differently. I think maybe we still could be.”
“I’d never be your friend,” Regulus replies coldly, watching as James’ face falls, his eyes closing slightly longer than the typical blink, his hands rubbing together in his lap. “There’s no other way things could have gone, if you’re referring to what I assume you are,” Regulus raises an eyebrow and James simply nods, “Why exactly would you even want to be my friend? I'm not nice, remember?”
James ridiculous Potter smiles at Regulus then, his perfect teeth piercing through the open gap of his lips and warming the air between them. “You said you could be, though, to the people who deserved it.”
“Are you insinuating you think you deserve my niceness?” Regulus asks, letting his legs fall from his chest and matching James’ current position. James chews on his bottom lip again, and leans back on his hands as he regards Regulus.
“I think I am,” he says, boldly. His eyes don't waver and neither does his voice, and Regulus finds himself being a little bit impressed by that Gryffindor bravery he’s heard so much about.
“Why’s that?” he challenges, smirking at the smile on James’ face and the wind blushed cheeks above it.
“Well because I like to think I’m quite nice,” he claims, watching as Regulus analyzes his answer, “and I’m very curious about you, and don't ask me why because I don't have an answer, but I think a random act of kindness in letting a stranger get to know you may actually serve you well.” He pauses and his eyes find Regulus’ as they always do, “and don’t think I dont know you cast a silencing spell in the library, I’d say that was actually rather nice.”
“I’m not particularly fond of being known,” Regulus replies, face dancing on the verge of a small smile, “and I won't deny that, but don’t think it was for you, half the school would have gotten in trouble because of you.”
“Then you can get to know me, if I recall correctly you once said you wanted to know everything,” Regulus knows what he’s referring to. When Regulus was still young and naive he had sat next to Sirius the whole way to Hogwarts. He had even answered when the one in the lace up boots and old sweater asked what he was most excited for with school. Regulus had said he wanted to know everything. He hadn’t thought anyone else was listening. He doubts even the sweater boy remembers asking. “You know I think I count as a part of this overarching idea of ‘everything’.”
James charming Potter. James bloody flirty Potter.
“Okay,” Regulus obliges, “what’s your favorite color?”
James laughs, warm and soft again, like a small private laugh only Regulus gets to hear. Regulus feels oddly lucky for getting to hear it. “That’s what you want to know?” Regulus just nods. “Red. Duh,” James says through that warm smile, “any better questions?”
Regulus thinks for a second before asking, quietly, barely above a whisper, “what exactly is it you want to know about me?” He ducks his head back down to his very distracting socks, as James visibly warms to the question.
“Anything you’d tell me, you’re awful mysterious, you know?”James responds, voice slightly quieter too, as if they're sharing secrets at a sleepover. He nudges Regulus’ knee with his own and Regulus is suddenly very aware of how close James Potter is to him right now. Barely an inch separating them, warmth seeping into Regulus from the proximity.
“I’m not trying to be,” Regulus says, resisting the urge to scoot almost impossibly closer, “most people just don't take the time out of their day to stalk and bother me.” He watches the tilt that comment gives James’ grin, and the few extra teeth that show as he shakes his head limply.
“Thought you said you don't like being known?” James says, voice impossibly soft and gentle, like he actually cares. Regulus still has a sneaking suspicion this is a set up of some sort, another one of the infamous marauders pranks.
“That’s me being private, not mysterious. Mystery implies a sort of romance my simple introversion does not display,” Regulus whispers, as if he doesn't want even the stars to hear. He sees James shift slightly, scooting to lean against the pillar Regulus’ shoes are sitting beside. He leans his head back against it, looking up at the same cloudy sky Regulus had been watching when he first entered.
“Well, either way, you’ve sparked my curiosity,” James says, speaking up again to account for the distance between him and Regulus now. He tugs his legs up so his knees are bent in front of his torso, playing loosely with the laces of his shoes.
“I take it you’re not the type to give up on this type of grand quest for knowledge?” Regulus assumes, tipping his head towards James. “Oh, absolutely not,” James replies, tilting his smile adorned head back straight to look at Regulus, gravely serious when he adds, “unless it’s for Binns’ history class, bloody hated every bit of learning I did in that class.”
Regulus grins despite himself, feeling his lips actually part to make space for his straight teeth to show themselves to James. He quickly hides it behind his hand. “Well, ask me a question then. I’ll answer.”
James pauses at this, like he genuinely is surprised, but after the level of persuasion just used he should be anything but shocked. He sucks in a sharp breath and taps his finger to his chin as he thinks, light rubbing his jaw as he works his brain. He looks up at Regulus after a moment, and asks, “what’s your favorite color?”
Regulus’ smile only grows. He even finds he’s laughing when he goes to answer, and has to pause to let it pass before sharing, “purple. But not the ugly royal kind, the lighter kind.'' James looks surprised by this, words falling out of his mouth before he really thinks, “not green?” Regulus laughs again, unable to help it once more, “No James, you know it's not a requirement to have the same favorite color as your house.” James looks genuinely surprised, and also quite delighted at his new knowledge, “well I know that, I’m not stupid,” Regulus arches an eyebrow at that, James just laughs and continues, “just kinda assumed because you wear so much of it.”
Regulus hesitates before saying, “my parents quite like green, and I don't do much of my own shopping.” James unfurls himself from his seated position, standing against the pillar now and watching the clouds move over the hills as he says, “purple is good. I like purple better than green too.” Regulus smiles small to himself before saying, “four things in common then.”
James smiles down at him, and Regulus stands quickly to be closer to level with him. He shuffles to grab his shoes from beside James’ pillar and slips his picked-apart-sock covered feet into them. James follows every movement with his eyes, Regulus can feel it on him as he steps into his shoes and as he turns to face James once again. “It’s getting late,” Regulus says, “I should be going.”
James frowns slightly, before nodding and motioning for Regulus to pass him and exit the tower first. He hesitates as he brushes past James, pausing minutely as the breeze briskly blows past them, carrying an oddly familiar scent from James to Regulus. He moves on quickly, bristling at the earthy scent and briskly making his way to the door. He’s had enough opening up for one night.
“Regulus,” James says as he opens the door. Regulus pauses, turning to face him with his hair falling lightly in his eyes, his sweater snagging on his fingers. He inclines his head to hear what James has to say. “Do you think we could be friends?”
Oh, James, Regulus thinks. His openness will get the best of him one day, Regulus is certain of it. He smiles a small smile at James, “one question at a time, Potter.” He steps out and hears the door close behind him.
His path back to the dungeons is a rather treacherous one, and there's always several near misses with Filch’s creepy cat. He starts slowly, treading lightly down the stairs from the tower, he can hear when James finally exits too, the echo of the door closing carrying through the whole hall. He hurries up then, hearing James’ fastened footsteps on the stairs he just finished descending. Regulus turns down a dark hall, casting a muffled “lumos,” before basically sprinting past all the sleeping portraits and cracking stones.
When he makes it to the next staircase, down to the hall the Gryffindor tower is on, he can still hear James’ footsteps, but when he turns to see if he’s approaching the hall is deserted. He starts his quick descent of the stairs, willing them not to move under him, and bustling past the Gryffindor tower quickly, narrowly escaping a small blonde gryffindor as they exit. He pauses briefly by a tall window at the end of the hall, fat lady portrait still in sight, and a hopefully deserted hall in front of him. He holds his wand in front of him, illuminating the hall to find it also pleasingly empty.
He starts to move when he sees the fat lady portrait swing open once again, for quite literally nobody. There is blatantly nobody in the hall, and nobody passes through the portrait as she closes. Funny, Regulus thinks, must be some weird gryffindor thing.
He continues his lone path down the empty halls of a sleeping Hogwarts and makes quick business of getting back to the dungeons. He does stop, a couple times and not for long, to look out the stained windows on the second floor. He’s always loved how the grounds looked through the colorful glass, even more magical and vibrant.
When he arrives at the slytherin common room he’s surprised to see Barty, Evan, and Dorcas up and sitting in the arm chairs by the hearth. Evan is sprawled out across one, head on one arm and knees bent over the other, he appears to be mid-sentence when Regulus enters. Barty is beside him, in his favorite worn leather chair, sitting criss crossed between the beaten arms of it, leaning forward on his knees to listen to Ev. Dorcas, lastly, is sitting across from them, legs tucked up to her chest as she leans into the plush of the chair backing.
“Reg!” Evan exclaims, lifting his head up and smiling as Regulus moves to stand beside Dorcas, “you’re back late, good night with the house elves?” Evan twists himself so he’s matching Bart’s pose, and looks expectantly at Regulus through tired eyes, drooping slightly as he tilts his head up. Regulus sits on the wide arm of Dorcas’ chair and pulls his left leg up onto it with him, leaning slightly against the back piece Dorcas is currently attempting to sink into.
“Not particularly,” Regulus comments, playing with Dorcas’ long braids, “I went to the astronomy tower tonight.” He makes shapes out of the braids and charms of Dorcas’ hair as she simply hums in quiet appreciation. Regulus thinks having your hair played with must be quite nice, and tries hard not to think about the times Sirius used to braid his hair.
“Oh?” Barty asks, “why were you gone so long then? We assumed WInnie or Bo had some really hot gossip for you.” Barty swings his legs out of his crossed lap and taps his feet gently on the floor. Evan matches him. Regulus watches them quietly before asking, “what time is it?”
Barty laughs, deep and calloused with tiredness, “The stars must have been good tonight, Reg, it’s almost 3am.” Regulus’ mouth genuinely drops open at this, it had only been midnight when he’d left the common room for the tower, and he assumed his conversation with James couldn't have been longer than a half hour. His hands still in Dorcas’ hair as he remarks, “you’re having me on. It’s probably only 1.”
Evan smiles and stands up, pushing himself up with his hands on the arms of the chair, swinging his legs and jumping over to Regulus. He reaches into the pocket of his (Barty’s?) hoodie and pulls out the silver pocket watch he always keeps on him. He hands it to Regulus, open and face up and well, would you look at that, Regulus thinks, “Oh it’s three am.” Barty and Evan just laugh, and Barty propels himself to stand by Evan’s side, hopping up from his chair in a manner rather similar to a squirrel hopping from a tree.
“Yes, how observant!” Barty exclaims, patting Regulus on his head and tugging lightly on one of his curls, “now star boy, would you like to join the rest of us in getting some actual sleep?” Regulus stares at him openly, “you weren't waiting up for me, were you?” Barty smiles, small and secret, “mate after one we thought ugly Mrs. Norris got you, had to stay up to make sure you had survived.”
Regulus frowns, “do I have a curfew now?” Evan shoves his hands in his hoodie pocket and smiles up at Regulus, “yes young man, home by eleven every night please!” Barty nods vigorously, “what your father said! Eleven sharp or you're grounded for a week!”
Dorcas shows her first signs of conscious life at this, giggling lightly to herself before standing and poking Evan and Barty each on their cheeks, “my favorite married couple, you two,” she coos. They both blush a soft pink on their cheeks and over their noses, Regulus reaches forward and messes both their hair, “okay dads, I’ll be safe I promise.” The grins on Regulus’ dorm mates' faces could power the world, full of straight white teeth and pink gums.
“Alright, boys, get to bed now,” Dorcas commands, voice straight and mockingly harsh, “I love you, Reg, but I’m never waiting up again. I hope Mrs. Norris does get you next time.” She blows a kiss over her shoulder as she saunters away, taking the stairs slowly up the girls dormitories. They shout a chorus of, “love you Dor! Nastiest of dreams to you!” up the stairs after her.
Barty turns on his heel and heads for the stairs down to their dorm, almost pitch black as the windows reflect the night time black lake and the candles on the wall are almost burnt out. Evan follows directly behind, looking back to make sure Regulus is following and taking the steps two at a time.
Barty opens their door dramatically, motioning them in like a chauffeur and locking it behind them. They all make quick work of getting into their respective beds before blowing goodnight kisses and wishing each other a very fitful sleep.
Regulus closes the curtains around his bed and sits up. Back straight, staring at the dark green velvet surrounding his bed. Do you think we could be friends?
All Regulus had ever thought about in regards to James Potter had been murder plots and pure genuine hatred. Or at least he thought it was pure and genuine. He can't seem to tell James no. Well, Regulus’ brain prompts, do you think you could be friends? He analyzes the curtains, he fiddles with his sock-free feet under the blankets.
He replays every second he’s spoken to James since Sunday. Every arched eyebrow and invasive gaze. He walks through memories of hot cocoa and grapes, of windy nights and sunny mornings. He finds himself smiling, despite his greater efforts to frown at these particular memories. He smiles when he pictures James and his pillar, when he hears a hazy version of James’ laugh in his memory.
Maybe, he thinks, maybe.