Breakfast
James knew it was coming, Remus and Sirius, they seemed somehow inevitable. Like a tsunami, building up from all the cracks in the foundation and absolutely drowning them in the aftermath.
They look so happy, is the thing. James can't help but smile like a proud mother when he gets back from the astronomy tower that night, already high on stars and Regulus. Peter had gotten back from his little tryst with Rebecca Cordeen at almost the exact same time James got back from Reg, he quite literally walked into James’ invisibile back when they were passing through the portrait, knocking them both flat on their asses in puddles of stifled laughter.
When they’d gone into the room and seen Pads and Moony all cuddled up and cute they’d simply smiled. Even Peter knew, James had thought at Sirius, using those telepathy powers of theirs, mate, Peter knew and you didn't. There’d been a victorious high five and then muffled laughs and sounds of joy shared between the two waking boys, then they both promptly passed out. It had been 2:30 when they’d gotten back.
James wakes up to a breeze. He assumes Remus is probably in his window before he remembers, smiling as he rolls over, that Remus is very likely still in his bed. He probably will be all day with the way Sirius tends to share a bed.
When James finally opens his eyes he sees the window by Peter’s empty bed to be open, and connects some very distant dots in his mind when he notices the shower is running. He sits up to see Remus and Sirius still very much asleep, and checks the clock to make sure he won’t have to wake them. Even with Sirius, Remus is bound to wake up before 8.
The sun is pale in the mid-November sky, bouncing off a thick layer of clouds and casting hues of gray over the now muted grounds. Scotland, James thinks, standing from his warm bed to shut the window, looks like rain.
It’s genuinely frigid in the room now, and is a little brisk in the halls too once James enters them after sufficiently deducting that Remus is awake and feels sure he’ll get Sirius to come meet them soon.
He takes the steps as many at a time as he is physically capable, jumping and hopping far too much for this early. People stare, but they always do, so he continues and bounds all the way down to the dungeons in record time.
Regulus agreed to meet him this morning. This morning. The sun is up, and Regulus is going to be his friend. Though, James wonders if it counts through all the rainy gloomy clouds. It is still daytime, so he figures it’s worth something.
He hides in one of the weird dead ends the dungeons have for what seems like absolutely no reason, except maybe for this. Maybe even Salazar Slytheirn understood the importance of a place to hide.
He’s leaning against the wall, twirling his wand around and around his fingers, flipping it every now and then and trying very hard not to think of any spell names as he does so. He once tossed his wand while he was giving Peter the name of a transfiguration spell and turned the dorm ceiling into a massive tea plate. They had to get McGonagall to fix it.
He’s catching his wand when he sees him, straight backed and wearing all black today, turning the corner towards him. His hair is damp, like he just got out of the shower and towel dried it, and it curls in dark dripping black on his forehead.
“Hello, James,” he greets, always so cordial. James can’t help but smile at him, dropping his wand down into his robe and standing fully to walk toward the shorter boy.
Regulus is crossing his arms over the black button up on his chest, stretching the fabric slightly and causing the smallest sliver of skin to peek through. James really likes it when he wears black, he looks like that waterfall he’d shown him last week, bright against dark.
“Hi, Regulus,” James responds, matching his tone to the cordiality of Regulus’, mocking his arched eyebrow and crossed arms. This gets a small small from Regulus, the kind he always shakes his head at, just lightly tossing his curls as he shakes it off.
“Yes, good morning,” Regulus says, stepping minutely to the side to lean casually against the stone wall. James tries stop himself from thinking pretty. He does not succeed.
It’s been a week since he took him to the forest, and they’ve met almost every night since. They’re friends. The kind that sneak out and swap questions and answers, the kind who sometimes playfully knock knees or swat shoulders. Friends.
James loves having friends. Loves being friends with a person like Regulus, the kind you have to work really hard at to know. He’s never loved studying, or any sort of research, but if there was a book on Regulus he’d read it cover to cover and write all sorts of “thorough” annotations to turn in to him. He wants to know it all. He wants to study him, to raise his hand and ask questions, to write novellas on the color of his eyes and the different ways he smiles.
Regulus has proved to be very very hard to get to know. James is typically very good at this, the exchange of information, of opinions and favorite things. James has realized, though, Regulus is very good at avoiding it. Amazing at deflection and an expert in staying unknown.
The last night they shared was, well, last night. James hadn’t been able to meet Tuesday or Thursday night last week, since he had to get up for quidditch practice at about 6am the following days. He had actually canceled Monday morning practice this and last week, just to have Sundays with Regulus. The team is doing good enough anyway, and he knows some of them still go down to the pitch anyway to practice.
Regulus seems to be reading his mind because the next thing he says is, “no practice this morning?”
James smiles, “canceled, it’s okay though, team is doing really good.”
“You canceled it? You are the captain right?” Regulus asks, looking James up and down, lingering a little where his biceps stretch his shirt and his thighs meet where his legs are crossed.
“I sure am,” he flashes Regulus his signature jock grin, cocky and crooked, “and yeah, I did. Wanted to hang out with you.”
Regulus looks down for a brief second, covering his chiseled cheeks in his dark hair as they pinken ever so slightly. He looks back up with a soft smile, endeared and so lovely. James really likes morning Regulus, fresh and soft.
“This is great news,” Regulus says, causing James to really smile, stepping a little closer to where he’s leaning against the wall as he adds, “we’ll definitely beat you next week then.”
James immediately scoffs, bold of him to assume Regulus was hinting that he’d also wanted to see James. Though, for the first time, Regulus was the one who had asked if James was free. When he’d been leaving last night, Regulus had been standing up as well, turning to ask James what time he typically wakes up.
“Piss off,” James says, shoving lightly at Regulus’ shoulder as he steps past him to head out of their little nook, “do you want to get breakfast or not?”
Regulus, last night, silhouetted by pale moonlight and backlit by the barely visible stars, had asked James to breakfast. He’d stood there, quiet and small in the way only he could ever make himself, and had asked James if he “wanted to maybe get breakfast tomorrow, in the kitchens?”
Regulus pushes himself off the wall and twirls around to stand beside James, simply nodding his smiling face and motioning for James to lead the way.
They’ve lingered long enough, hidden, that almost all students are at the breakfast in the great hall now. There’s only a few stragglers, but they’re alone and rushing to meet friends so they run past them without sparing a second glance.
“I hope they have sausage,” Regulus mumbles as they approach the pear on the wall, reaching a slender hand out to tickle it gently. James smiles at him and resists the urge to reach and touch that hand, extended at about 2 inches above James’ head, lingering pale like the stars visible during sunrise.
“You a big sausage fan?” James asks, joking lilt in his accent, light with a small huff of happiness. Regulus just lowers his hand as the portrait swings open and scowls at James, “don’t you dare make that joke. Are you 12?”
James smiles wide, watching as Regulus rolls his eyes and steps through the portrait, “my mom tells me I have my fathers humor, and my father is quite funny.”
Regulus just mutters, quietly and a little harsh, “yes and my mother tells me many things, doesn’t mean they’re true.”
“See, but my mom is nice,” James says, following Regulus and a house elf he doesn’t know the name of yet to a pair of short stools by a low counter top. Regulus tosses James a glare over his shoulder as he sits down, James following close behind.
“My mother is fine,” Regulus says, frowning at James’ questioning face.
James knows all about Walpurga Black. She is not nice, she’s not even ‘fine’. She’s quite literally the embodiment of pure evil. He knows what Sirius tells him, and what his parents read in the paper about her campaigns. He knows what Sirius looked like that day he’d shown up in James’ living room fireplace. He knows what Sirius’ answer was when he’d asked what happened. “My mother.”
“Reg,” James starts, aware that he has to tread very carefully on the topic of Walpurga around her sons, “she’s kinda mean.”
Regulus just ignores him, opting instead to plaster a cracking smile on his face and shove a fork speared sausage in his face, “sausage!”
James knows when to let something go. He knows that smile, that ‘please just drop it’ smile. It’s a signature of the Black family heirs. Sirius does it everytime James mentions Regulus. Regulus does it anytime James mentions his family at all. James knows how to respect boundaries, he’ll let Regulus talk about it when he’s ready. He can wait, after all there is so much more to know about Regulus Black than just his emotions toward his mother.
“Sausage!” James choruses, biting the tip off of the brown meat in front of him, right off Regulus’ fork. He immediately frowns again, this one harsh and petulant, like a little kid robbed of playtime.
“That was mine,” he mutters, looking up at James as he chews his stolen sausage, “I was not offering that to you, I was just showing you.”
James speaks through a mouth full of chewed meat, “you literally shoved it at my mouth, Reg,” he pauses to swallow, “what did you expect?”
Regulus just eats the rest of his fork stabbed sausage, glaring at James as he chews.
The elves make quick work of making them each a plate, Winnie stopping by to deliver them, saying, “I was knowing you two were friends, see James Potter,” she looks up at James as she hands him his plate, “I told you you were being friends with Regulus Black.”
Regulus raises an eyebrow at James as he accepts his own plate, thanking Winnie as she places it in his hands. James just smiles at him through a shrug, “well, she isn’t wrong.”
Regulus smiles back, stabbing another small sausage link, “no,” he looks at James as he raises his fork to his mouth, “she isn’t.” He takes the whole thing in one bite, cheeks full as he chews giving him a sort of painted cherub look. James can’t stop smiling.
James quickly deducts that breakfast sausage may very well be the way to Regulus’ heart. He legitimately looks at it with more love than he does most people he knows. James mildly envies sausage, just for a brief stupid moment, before reminding himself that being a living breathing human suits him just well.
Not as well as that look would, his brain muses, watching Regulus gaze genuinely longingly at the damn sausage. Fuck sausage.
“Is it good?” James asks, mildly satirical as Regulus closes his eyes through a particularly slow chew. He smiles up at him with grease shining lips, nodding ecstatically.
James is going to learn to make sausage. He is going to bring it to every single late night meeting or early morning rendezvous. He is going to make Regulus smile like that over, and over, and over again. If sausage is how he has to do it, so be it. He is enamored by that beautiful sausage smile.
“It’s so good James, you don't get it,” Regulus says, wiping his face with a perfectly folded napkin, “we don’t get breakfast at home, I didn’t even know these existed. What a pointless silly existence I led without sausage.”
James’ heart breaks at Regulus’ casual melancholy. He knew they didn't eat particularly well there, simply based on Sirius’ modern eating habits, but he assumed they got at least 3 meals a day. Even if they were measly and plain. He suddenly has the absurd urge to take Regulus and keep him in his pocket, tucked away and always surrounded by mini plates of breakfast food. He wonders if you could perform a shrinking spell on a person. He’ll ask Remus later.
“My mom never made this kind of breakfast,” James starts, knowing better than to start criticizing Regulus’ previous statement out loud, “my favorite thing she’d make was idlis.”
Regulus looks up at the foreign word, raising his eyebrows as he asks, “what’s that?”
James smiles as he replies, “it’s a sort of pancake made out of rice-dough, it’s delicious.”
“Do you think you could transfigure something else into it? I’d like to try it,” Regulus says, scooting his plate closer to James and shoving everything but his unbitten waffle to the side.
“I can try, yeah,” James says, warmed and softened by Regulus’ interest, “won’t be nearly as good as my moms though, you’ll have to come try hers eventually so you can understand the full effect.”
Regulus just smiles with a nod and motions for James to do the spell. James pulls his wand out of his robes and casts a pretty simple transfiguration spell on the waffle, watching as it twists and bobbles as it turns into a fluffy round piece of white idlis. James thinks he did a pretty good job, if he does say so himself. He just hopes it tastes good.
“Hold on,” he says, picking the soft pancake up to inspect it, “let me try it first to make sure it tastes right.” Regulus watches him carefully as James sniffs at the food, happy to find that it smells pretty good too. He takes a small careful bite out of it and is immediately hit with a rather aggressive wave of nostalgia.
His mind floods with images of a much smaller James padding down the carpeted stairs to the kitchen in his signature red pajama onesie. The picture of his mother folding the rice dough in her hands and letting James make his own mini versions as the sun rises through the window above the sink. He remembers the smell of his mother's apron, covered in old spices and weird orange stains, and the way he used to wear it when he played chef. He drowned in the fabric, wearing it like a dress as he mixed water in a bowl and pretended it was curry.
Regulus is watching him with a soft warm look on his typically rather harsh face, eyes open wide and glistening with some sort of warmth James has never seen before. He looks rather sated, fond and content.
“Did you get it right?” he asks, holding out his hands to ask for the pancake back to try.
James nods as he swallows, a small smile breaking out as he continues to picture that apron and the lovely woman who wore it, “not quite Effie Potter level, but yeah, I'd say it's pretty good.”
James drops it into Regulus’ open hands and watches carefully as he repeats the exact motions James had performed earlier. He holds it up to his button nose, the tip of it twitching as he sniffs at it. He nods to indicate the scent has received his approval before taking a rather generous bite right on top of James’.
He chews slowly, moving the food around his mouth and clearly taking his time to taste it all. James appreciates this, as the chef, and as a connoisseur of flavor himself.
James loves to eat. He loves his mother's homemade naan and the curry she changes every time she makes it. He loves all the colors and scents and spices that remind him of home. The yellows and oranges of the soups Effie makes, and the soft warmth of her hand on his back as he tries to recreate them.
James loves to cook. He loves 4pm in his house when he gets to help his mum with dinner, he loves how Sirius has started coming down too, typically just to set the table, and always sticks around to watch the process. He loves when he succeeds, when his mother nods and hums as she chews and she looks at him with that proud twinkle in her eye.
James thinks he loves those things very much, but maybe not as much as he loves watching Regulus eat his food. He looks so pleased, mildly impressed, and very content. He reminds James of a cat, small and soft, nibbling away at their first meal of the day. He hums soft noises as he eats the rest of the pancake, and looks at James so fondly as he finishes. James is going to start cooking this boy every meal he has. He didn’t even really cook that.
“James,” Regulus says as he wipes his mouth with his pressed napkin, “that is delicious. That is somehow better than sausage.”
James beams. He feels his face warm at the praise and his lips stretch as he realizes that may be the first compliment Regulus Black has ever given to him.
“Just wait until I can actually cook for you,” James says, biting into his own unchanged waffle.
“You want to cook for me?” Regulus asks, “do you cook at home?”
“Yeah, always, with my mum,” James responds, smiling, “and yes. I’ll cook you a nice traditional Potter dinner one of these days.”
Regulus watches James shyly, like a kitten eyeing a high shelf they’re not sure they can reach. He tugs his bottom lip into his mouth slightly, biting at it with his top fang tooth. He looks so young all of a sudden. James is struck with the realization that Regulus actually is younger than him.
He knows it’s only by a year but in school that feels like a much bigger difference than it probably is. James is young, so is Regulus, and everything feels much bigger than it probably is. He realizes that Regulus is 15, he’s growing up just a step or so behind James. This is so shocking to James because Regulus seems much older than half the 7th years James knows.
Regulus has a thin line on his forehead from worrying, and he talks like a grown man. He uses words sometimes James doesn't even know, and you can literally hear the punctuation in his sentences. He seems worn in the way you should only see in people past 50, and he’s shockingly wise, like he’s seen worlds and eons begin and end with his own eyes.
Right now though, Regulus looks like a child. He looks fifteen. He looks small, tucked in on himself and fidgeting with his hands the way infants play with those weird rattling things. He breathes soft and short breaths, like he only has centimeter wide lungs, ones that hardly expand, that hardly even work. He’s still developing, growing, learning. James realizes this suddenly, all at once; Regulus Black is just a kid.
“My mom doesn't cook,” he says, so small, “I don’t think anyone has ever cooked me a meal, just the house elves.”
James yet again has the urge to hide this boy away, to take him for himself and never let anyone else near him again. He’ll cook him 3 meals a day and teach him how to cook for himself too. He wonders briefly if he’ll need to teach him how to do laundry too; he had had to teach Sirius when he took him away.
James looks at Regulus. Really looks at him. He traces the rises and falls of his face, the crest of his nose and the dip above his mouth. He watches as he plays with the food on his plate, obviously uncomfortable, vulnerable. It’s stunning to James how Regulus looks when he’s open. He’s shy and quite endearing, he hides behind his hair and chews his lip. He fidgets and avoids eye contact, but he speaks without stuttering.
He speaks clearly without mumbling or whispering. James envies him a little, his ability to talk. Regulus Black always knows what to say, and he says it eloquently, well trained. He speaks like a novel, proper syntax and grammar, always. Even when he’s scared of what he’s saying, he says it so well. It’s brave, James wonders if he realizes that.
When James looks away from Regulus he quickly finds Winnie and beckons her over with his hand. She approaches quickly and stands attentively as she awaits whatever James needs of her.
“Winnie,” James starts, feeling Regulus look up from his food to watch their exchange, “do you mind if I use some of the kitchen tonight? I’d like to make Regulus and I dinner tonight.”
She blinks up at him with her wide eyes as she nods, “Of course James Potter, you can be using anything you be needing. I can tell the other elves to be leaving you and your friend alone if you be needing space to cook?”
Regulus is unfurling from himself now, looking at James with round eyes and a minute flicker of surprise.
“That would be perfect, Winnie, thank you,” James responds, turning back to Regulus to ask, “what time might you be free this evening? If you want to wait until night we can meet at 11 as per usual?”
Regulus just nods, his face painted a soft, sunset pink, like spun sugar in the summer.
“Great!” James claps and turns back to Winnie, “we’ll be out of your hair for actual dinner, we’ll be down here at around eleven tonight if that’s alright?”
She nods vehemently, reassuring James as she says, “James Potter does not needing to ask WInnie if it's okay, James is welcome anytime he is wanting,” she pauses and looks at Regulus, “his friend Regulus too.”
Regulus’ closed lips part at this, looking at Winnie with blatant adoration and a little bit of what James could only identify as friendship. “Thank you, Winnie,” he says, softly and just for her to hear. James beams up at him as she totters away and back to her cleaning.
“So, dinner tonight?” James asks, smiling ridiculously and nudging Regulus' thigh with his left knee, turning a little on his stool to do so.
“Obviously,” Regulus says, smile betraying his neutral tone. James loves that smile, loves how it makes Regulus’ cheeks pink and his eyes soft.
That was a bit of a strong description, he’d revise that sentiment to very much like. He very much likes the smile. It’s nice. James likes nice things. James realizes he also seems to like mean things as Regulus opens his mouth again to say, “try not to poison me, Potter, I will haunt you.”
He smiles, James finds he doesn't seem to be able to do anything but smile around Regulus.
“Ooh, don’t tempt me,” James teases, waggling his eyebrows at Regulus, “sounds the perfect plan to get you all to myself.”
And, oh, James needs to start thinking before he speaks. He is pleading with that muggle God guy in his mind that Regulus thinks he was kidding.
Were you not kidding? He asks himself, reevaluating that last little train of thought that passed through. He is going to move on now.
“Or, I mean, uhm,” he starts as he pathetically attempts to cover his tracks, “we’d be BFFs.”
“We’d be BFFs?” Regulus asks, voice dripping in sarcasm and flat with his personal brand of teasing.
“Yes. Best friends forever,” James says, looking very pointedly not at Regulus, “that’s what I meant, is all. Just clarifying.”
“Clarifying in case I thought you were confessing your deep dark secret desire to marry me?” Regulus asks, bold now, eyes unhidden and smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. James’ mind buffers for a second.
“Well, no, I mean, I just,” James seems to have forgotten how to speak. He makes some sort of disconnected circle motion in the air with his hands and then just kind of deflates as Regulus laughs beside him.
Regulus laughs wildly for a moment, an inhibited moment full of warm sounds and a gummy smile. James has lost his ability to even think in proper sentences.
“Don’t worry James, love, I would never marry you anyway,” Regulus says, straightening up from his hunched over laughing position and smiling at James’ embarrassed face.
“What?” James asks, yet again refusing to have a single thought in his brain, useless thing, “why not?!”
“What?” Regulus asks, laughing again, “are you seriously asking me why I won’t marry you?”
It is at this exact moment the kitchen portrait opens. The person who stumbles through it enters halfway through Regulus’ sentence as James looks worriedly at his laughing figure.
“James?” The person asks, causing James to turn abruptly and nearly fall right off his stool as he pivots.
He is face to face with Peter Pettigrew. Regulus very quickly stops laughing.
“Peter,” James starts, shakily, very quickly pretending Regulus is just not there at all, “what are you doing down here, mate?”
Peter’s pale round face is painted with scrutiny, his blonde eyebrows high on his forehead and his rather plush lips forming a sort of open O shape. He blinks slowly at James, looking back and forth between him and the boy next to him he is now ignoring.
“Uhm,” Peter starts, body stuck in the same position it was when he first realized there were two people already in here, “Moony and Pads came to breakfast late so I was going to grab them a plate to pick at in McGonagall's.”
James is suddenly so grateful Peter is down here. He silently sends his thanks to the powers that be for blessing him with an insanely lazy best friend. James would have quite literally imploded if he’d turned and seen Sirius Black standing there. As his little brother questions James’ not even real proposal. James could actually kiss Peter Pettigrew on the lips right now just for not being Sirius.
“Ah, well good on you mate,” James says, “I was doing the same thing.”
“You didn’t even know they were late, James.”
“Right,” he buffers for a moment, standing and pushing his stool in to buy time, looking at Regulus one last time before grabbing his plate and walking towards Peter, “well, it’s the telepathy thing.”
Peter is looking at Regulus as James approaches him, offering the still mostly full plate to his shorter friend. James does not turn around to look at Regulus again, quickly stepping out of the portrait and grabbing Peter’s elbow to get him to follow, quite aggressively turning him in his place.
“Shall we go deliver the lovebirds their food?” He says, as casually as he can muster, motioning for Peter to follow him out of the portrait. Peter glances once more furtively at Regulus’ frozen figure before turning back to James, eyebrows deeply furrowed with confusion as he steps through to the hall.
“Uhm,” Peter says, seemingly in some sort of shock as he emotionlessly follows James through the dungeons, “was that Regulus Black?”
James simply shakes his head, “nope.”
Peter stops walking now, seeming to have finally processed his thoughts and looking at James with a stern expression on his youthful face.
“Yes it was.”
James is quite helpless in this situation, he’s a terrible liar.
“Okay so maybe it was, but that’s no biggie, Pete. He was probably just looking for some breakfast too,” James states rather succinctly, trying his hardest to keep an aloof look on his rather hot face. He’s sweating. Peter can see right through him.
“No, James,” Peter says, crossing his arms over his chest, “why was Regulus Black in the kitchens with you telling you he won't marry you?” He pauses, face falling, “did you ask Regulus Black to bloody marry you?!”
“No, Merlin, no, Wormy,” James says, pleading a little as all of his resolve crumbles, “it was a joke, I swear he was referencing a joke.”
“Referencing a joke? You share secret jokes with Regulus Black?”
“You can just call him Regulus, Peter, no need to bring the full name into it,” James says, immediately regretting it as Peter arches a cynical eyebrow at him and frowns. “No, I just mean, I- nevermind.”
“Can you perhaps explain this all? Are you playing some secret prank for Sirius?” Peter asks, stealing his face into neutrality, the ghosts of hope in his seeking eyes.
“No, I’m not pranking him, Peter, he, well, he’s my friend.” James says, attempting to prepare himself mentally for the fallout that admitting that will likely cause.
Peter just stares at him. Blank. Blinking steadily every few seconds. James thinks a century of silence passes between them.
“What are you doing?” Peter asks, genuine concern and worry in his voice. He’s always been close with James, the best at navigating him, seeing past the show. James is pretty sure not even Sirius can tell what he’s really thinking most of the time. Peter has a way of knowing things, things people would rather not have known.
“Nothing, Peter, I swear. He’s just a kid too, y’know?”
“Yeah, Sirius’ kid brother, James.”
“Aside from that, Peter. He’s his own person, if you got to know him-”
“I will not be getting to know Regulus bloody Black, Prongs. Are you being serious? Are you really friends?”
“Yes. Yes we are. I like him, Peter. He’s funny and nice and real” James can feel himself getting louder and tries to whisper as he continues, “he’s a real person with real emotions, and you and I both know he doesn't have anyone he can talk to about them in that damn house. Peter, he still lives there. With them. He needs someone, okay? And maybe I can help him.”
“You want to do what you did with Sirius with him? Are you trying to save him?” Peter asks, expressions and voice softening with something too close to pity for James’ liking.
“I mean, I don’t know, okay? He’s nothing like Sirius. I just want to be his friend.”
“Are you sure that’s all you want to be?”
James pauses at this, not quite sure why, he just stops and blinks. He can feel his expression changing, he’s not sure to what though. His palms are sweating. He blinks. Speak, his brain demands, tell him you’re sure.
“What else would I want?”
Peter looks at him all soft with pity again, a gentle frown tugging at his pink lips as he relaxes a little, placing a hand on James’ bicep. He squeezes ever so slightly as he looks at James saying, “be careful James. You won’t be able to save him, not if Sirius couldn't.”
James’ heart shatters then, smashed and bloody on the cold stone floor. He can see himself in the blood, red and cold, draining slowly.
“I know. I’m just his friend,” James says, small and so unlike himself he hardly even recognizes his voice, “please just keep this secret for me, Wormy, please.”
Peter nods slowly, dropping his hand back to his side with one final squeeze and softly saying, “okay. I will. I won’t tell, but you should. You know you should.”
James looks at the wall for a moment, counting the cracks in the stone as he nods.
“I know. I will, I just need time to make sure Regulus will be okay with it. You know how they are,” James doesn’t have to specify who ‘they’ are for Peter to nod in agreement.
“Just, don’t take too long, James. I hate keeping secrets,” Peter says, moving to stand beside James, looking up the stairs to signal they can start walking again.
“I know, I promise I’ll tell,” James says, starting to step up the stairs towards where he can see Remus and Sirius’ little heads, “thank you, Pete.”
Peter nods infinitesimally, looking up as well, “just be careful James. You can have other friends, just, be careful who you pick to fill that role. Regulus Black is dangerous, I won’t tell you you can’t be friends with him, but Sirius will. So just be careful.”
James nods, not able to respond as Sirius bounds over to them on their ascent, Moony in his left hand. Peter looks at him one last time, warning and subtle, before turning to Sirius with a wide smile and a plate of food.
James spends their walk to McGonagall's classroom silent, mind full with thoughts now that he’s no longer distracted by Regulus. Though, he guesses he still is since all his thoughts are about him.
James doesn’t think Regulus is dangerous. He’s gentle, he folds his napkin before every meal and knows the names of every star in the sky. Regulus Black tells stories better than anyone else James knows, and he’s funny. Really, genuinely funny in that dry way very few people can actually pull off. And he’s just a kid, they’re all just kids.
James is more worried about the elder Black brother, if he’s honest.
Peters is right. Sirius would never be okay with it, with James and Regulus being friends. James isn’t so sure Sirius would really be okay with James having any other friends in the first place, not in a selfish way though, in a genuine way. Sirius has lost enough, he’s rationally afraid of losing more. James is worried Sirius wouldn't get that he isn't going to, that he won't, lose James.
So James knows he needs to tell him. Knows the guilt may eventually be enough to kill him. But it can wait. It can wait until Regulus is a little more open, until Regulus could maybe be the one who tells Sirius.
–
Regulus Black is plotting murder. He is sitting on a stool next to a very confused house elf, plotting murder.
Peter Pettigrew is a known gossip. He literally knows everything, somehow, and he is not afraid to share it.
Regulus has walked past his table in the library enough to know. Every time he’s with a gaggle of random 6th years, whispering not so discreetly about who he’d heard was kissing who and where he heard those two weird 7th years go off to at night.
Peter Pettigrew somehow knows quite literally everyone in Hogwarts. Even Barty and Evan will stop in the halls to say hi to him or simply nod in his direction. Peter Pettigrew seems to have his strongest alliance, of course, with the boys he lives with. So despite Peter’s cordiality with everyone else, Regulus knows he can't trust the boy not to go blabbering to his friends. To Sirius.
So, Regulus is planning murder. Seems to be the only viable option here, but he’ll have to do it off grounds since Peter would likely become a ghost here if he died on grounds.
Regulus is mapping out secret alleys in Hogsmeade as he leaves the kitchens, and thinks about the easiest spells that he could use.
This is when he hears Peter Pettigrew talking. And he hears James too.
He lingers at the corner they most likely just passes, listening in on their hushed conversation.
When they seem to have finished, Regulus thinks maybe murder will no longer be necessary. At least he hopes so. He also thinks, accidentally, about James’ pause after Peter had asked if he was sure he was just friends with Regulus.
He is trying very hard not to think about it, or how badly he wishes he could have seen James’ face so he’d know if it was a pause of blatant offense or if he, maybe, might have done that soft smile Regulus likes. If maybe he paused and thought about it and that deep blush heated up his dark skin.
“What else would I want?” Had been James’ delayed response. Regulus isn’t quite sure himself, but he knows there's something. He knows there's something else, and he hopes intently James knows too. That James is just a good liar, good at acting confused or playing dumb.
Because James is cooking Regulus dinner tonight and Regulus is tired of lying to himself. Regulus is tired of his dreams and how cold his bed feels when he wakes up without the person he’d just been holding in a haze. Regulus is tired of the casual brush of their legs, or the way James doesn’t seem to realize when he’s holding Regulus’ hand as they sneak around.
Regulus is tired now, the same way he was of James never looking at him. The same way he was tired of unreturned glances and the loud way James laughed at everyone else's jokes. The way he was tired of watching James hold his brother's hand when they walked to class, or the way he’d always hug him goodbye after their classes. The way he’d grown dreary from how James used to kiss that one girl in the halls, how his lips always looked so heavenly soft when he’d pull away.
So he’s tired of pretending he hasn't been head over heels for James bloody Potter since the moment he said hi on that train five years ago.
Sorry, he thinks, James Fleamont Potter.
He hopes, with all he can muster in his rather hopeless heart, James was just playing dumb. James Potter is top of his class, he’s quidditch captain, he’s known and bright and smart. So surely he knows, surely he can tell there’s more. He’s making Regulus dinner for Merlin’s sake.
Regulus watches as James, slightly diminished, a little dimmer than normal, walks to class in line with his laughing friends. He watches as he stares at the ground and walks in perfect tandem with Regulus’ brother, who’s laughing loudly and holding the scarred one's hand as they ascend the steps.
He follows them, making sure there's enough distance between them and him that he won’t be noticed as he turns his attention to seek Evan and Barty out so they can head to Binns’ class. He had told them earlier he’d meet them at the top of the main stairs, and he finds them there now.
“Reggie! So kind of you to finally join us,” Barty says, clapping Regulus on the black and pivoting them towards the hallway to their right.
Evan smiles at Regulus as he follows quickly beside them. He’s done his hair differently, Regulus notices, it’s a little fluffier and messier, discarding his standard swooping side part for a curly bouncy sort of fluff atop his head. It looks good, Regulus thinks, even if it is a tangled nest. He looks a little younger, which really just makes him look more his age.
“Do you like it?” Evan asks, noticing Regulus’ eyes on his shaggy blonde hair, “Barty did it this morning because I lost my brush.”
Barty smiles, sticking an arm around Regulus’ shoulders to mess up Evan’s hair as he says, “indeed I did. I’m thinking of pursuing a career in hair styling, now. I think it looks rather good.”
Regulus shrugs out from under Barty’s arm as he steps quickly around him to let him in between Evan and himself. Once he’s happily on everyone’s left side he nods enthusiastically and says, “lovely Barty! You’ve found your calling, I think.”
Regulus looks up at Evan as they turn a corner, “looks good Evan, really. You look sexy.”
Evan laughs a little as Barty nods violently, waggling his eyebrows at Evan’s smiling face.
“Thanks, Reg, you’ll have to let him do yours next, maybe he can style it all nice for your next date with whoever it is you sneak out to see every night.”
Regulus attempts to maintain a very casual demeanor, covering his quick pause as a trip over a crack in the floor, shuffling to maintain his pace and smiling at Evan as he responds cooly, “there is no person I sneak out to see, I’m sure the astronomy tower pillars won’t need impressing by any Barty signature hair styling.”
Barty places a hand on top of Regulus' head, holding his skull the way someone cups that of a cat when they go to pet its body. Regulus is not fond of this position. He is also not fond of what Barty says next.
“Oh come on little prince, we know you’re seeing someone you big baby, we’re actually rather supportive actually, no need to fret,” he rubs the hand in Regulus’ hair back and forth, flattening the hair atop his head, “you deserve to get a little slutty too Regulus.”
Regulus scowls at him, a deep frown creasing his face as he watches Evan laugh and Barty smile that million dollar grin right at him. He is not a fan of that grin, it never means anything good is about to leave his mouth.
“Anyway, Reg, we were just a little offended you hadn’t told us you’d gotten your first kiss.”
“I will tell your father you stole that mirror he’s been looking for, Barty. I will write him and tell him directly after class.”
“You wouldn’t,” Barty gasps and clutches at invisible pearls around his neck.
“I quite literally will,” Regulus says, pausing with his friends outside of Binns’ door as a few students file in.
“Who is it, Reg?” Evan asks, voice softer than Barty’s and void of the teasing tone Barty’s almost always carries. He’s looking at Regulus so openly, eyes gentle and mouth pressed in a soft line atop his chin.
And, well, Regulus is tired of lying.
“Someone. It’s just someone, okay?”
He didn’t lie. He isn’t tired of his privacy.
“So we’re right,” Barty says, eyebrows raised as if he’s surprised by his own tact, “there is a secret someone in that tower of yours?”
Regulus just sighs and runs a sweating hand through his hair, “I just said there is, Barty. I… I can’t say who it is, though. Is that enough for you two?”
Evan nods at him, face softened by a genuine smile and hair flopping fluffy in his warm eyes.
“For now,” Barty says, tapping Regulus right on the nose, “that is enough, for now.”
Regulus brushes Barty’s hand away like swatting a fly as he says, “okay well it’s going to have to be enough forever.”
“What about when you get married? What then, Reg? Who’s going to throw you the most epic bachelors party ever? How can I do that if I don’t know the person you’re falling for?”
“Okay, first of all, absolutely not falling for anyone. We’re literally just friends, so there will also be no wedding, thank you.”
“Nobody puts the word just in front of ‘friends’ if they’re actually friends,” Barty says, arched eyebrows raised at Regulus as he feels himself blush. Merlin, he hates blushing. Why does that keep happening to him?
“We are friends, Barty,” Regulus exhales with a groan as he turns to hastily enter the room and sit at their usual table in the middle, “now, drop it.”
“Fine,” Barty says as he pulls Evan’s chair out for him, “but when you marry this person, know you’ve just lost yourself the bachelor party of the millennium.”
Evan smiles at Regulus as he sits, quietly placing his bag on his desk as he flicks his head to shake the hair out of his eyes.
The class, and all the rest of Regulus’ classes, passes slowly. Luckily he only has three classes on Mondays, meaning he’s free an hour after lunch to do as he wishes to pass the time until 11.
He starts off in his bed, deciding to indulge in a little kip and see how much time can pass as he dreams of tonight. He only sleeps for about half an hour before he feels a weight at the end of his bed and proceeds to kick it right off, only really waking up when something screams.
“Reg,” the girl huffs as she stands up and straightens out her blue plaid skirt, “hello to you too.”
“Panda?” Regulus asks, eyes slowly adjusting to the light of midday in his room.
“Yes, it’s me, I missed you too.”
“Come here,” Regulus says, scooting to the side to open a space on his right for the blonde girl to burrow into, “when did you get back?”
“About an hour ago, I had to go around handing in all the work I missed to my professors before I could even take a piss.”
Pandora has been in Africa for 3 weeks. She has a very eccentric family, the kind that don’t really have a house, but aren't exactly homeless. Her parents travel for a living.
They write for some sort of weird wizard magazine of sorts about the creatures in each place they visit, and Pandora tags along every now and then. The fact she’s a ravenclaw helps that she still manages to stay on top of school while she’s gone. She worked out some sort of mailing system with the school for her travel periods in second year, and is gone for at least a month every year now.
“I missed you,” Regulus sighs into her as she curls up beside him, pale blonde hair fanning out around her light brown face. Her hair makes her freckles pop, inexplicably, the dark spots somehow seeming darker against the pale color of her curls. She smells like spun sugar and apples, and her hands are soft when they wrap around Regulus.
“I missed you too, loser.”
He smiles against her chest as she holds him, both just existing together again for a moment. She strokes his hair behind his ear over and over again as he listens to the smooth way her breath fills and empties from her chest.
“Now,” she says as she pulls away, leaving a few inches between them as they face each other on their sides, hands intertwined between them, “tell me about this boy Barty tells me you’re sneaking off with.”
Regulus blanches, “Barty told you it was a boy? Does he know?”
“No, Reg, it’s okay, I just assumed since he said you seem to be quite fond of this secret person,” she squeezes his hands, “he doesn’t know, Reg. I promise. He won’t until you tell him.”
Regulus nods, heartbeat returning to normal as he looks Pandora dead in the eyes and says, “it’s James Potter. The boy I’m sneaking off with is James Potter.”
Pandora smiles at him, face gentle as always and void of any of the judgment he would get from literally anyone else at that statement.
He knew he could tell her, he knows she can keep a secret. She’s the only person who knows he’s into blokes. Only blokes. He told her one day in third year, both of them tucked away under a blanket fort in the back of the library they’d made sneaking out one night. She had so casually mentioned she was rather fond of this one other ravenclaw girl, and so unabashedly told Regulus she wanted to kiss her.
So, Regulus figured it should be a fair exchange, and told her he wanted to kiss a boy he’d seen on a quidditch poster once. That he only ever wanted to kiss boys. She just nodded and kissed his cheek, saying she didn’t think about it much, the gender of the people she wanted to kiss. Said she was quite fond of everyone.
And so she earned Regulus Black’s endless trust from that moment on. And she’s amazing at keeping secrets. Maybe not her own, but she’s very aware of what is hers to share and what isn’t. She’s Regulus’ best friend.
Merlin, he had missed her.
“Is he nice to you?” she asks, drawing shapes in Regulus’ palm.
He smiles, small and accompanied with a blush (again?!) as he says, “he’s cooking dinner for me tonight.”
She smiles, gap tooth proudly on display as her painted lips part. Regulus loves her smile, it’s always so kind, something about it so comforting in a way nothing else has ever managed to be.
“Oh, Reg, that’s so lovely,” she says as she draws a little dinner plate on his hand, “do you like him?”
Regulus knows what she’s asking. She is not asking if he sees James as a friend, or if he considers him tolerable or nice. She’s asking if he likes him.
“I do. I think I really do,” he says, hiding his face in the pillow as soon as the confession leaves his mouth. She ruffles the back of his hair and makes a small happy noise as she intertwines their hands again.
“I knew it,” she says, smiling that comfy cozy smile at Regulus’ pink face.
“What?” Regulus asks, his own smile widening, “you knew I liked James Potter?”
“The ravenclaw table is right between the gryffindor and slytherin one in the great hall you know. I’m not as blind as he is, I saw how you looked at him.”
“Yeah with pure contempt and hateful rage?”
She shakes her head and holds his face as she says, “no, my love, you look at that boy the way little kids look at the sun. Like something you know you shouldn’t be staring at, but something so tempting you just can’t look away.”
Regulus once again buries his head in the pillow, this time to scream bloody murder as he writhes around like a fish out of water. Pandora laughs and starts tickling his sides until he rolls back over to face her, hair a right mess and face creased from his sheets.
“Nobody else noticed, right?” he asks her, flopping onto his back as she stands and starts to tug on his arms.
“No, Reg, nobody else could probably tell. You did look rather vengeful,” she says, dragging his limp body out of bed and dropping him on the floor as she waits for him to stand.
“Then how did you know?” He asks, laying on the floor in much the same position he’d been in on his bed.
“I know these things, Regulus,” she says as she kicks at his ankles with her kitten heeled feet.
“Ugh,” he groans, “you and your silly little premonitions.”
She smiles, extending a freckled arm down to him, “oh shut up and come get dinner with me.”
“James is making me dinner,” Regulus says through a content smile.
Pandora rolls her dark eyes at him, “not until eleven, come on.”
“How the fuck did you know that?!”
“I know these things,” she says, shaking her hand at him as she raises an eyebrow, “now come on, I’m hungry and you should eat at least a little something.”
He takes her hands now, her skin soft and smooth smelling slightly of the body butter she found in a muggle shop once; coconut scented. She hoists him up rather gracefully and keeps a hold of his hand as they make their way out of his dorm.
“Hang on, how did you even get in here? They changed the password last week,” Regulus says as she pulls him through the slytherin common room.
“Barty gave it to me when he told me about your little love affair, told me I had to go talk to you and wrote me the password on a little piece of paper he charmed to burn itself once I entered. Great bit of magic, that.”
“I should have assumed,” Regulus mutters as they pass through the entrance and head towards the great hall.
Pandora says hi to everyone she passes, even the people she doesn’t know, which Regulus finds rather endearing. Also a little bit annoying though, since they all pause to stare at their conjoined hands and raise an eyebrow as they pass. He doesn’t mind that much though, not until they walk past James and Pandora pauses to smile at him as she greets.
“Hi James Potter,” she says, upbeat and happy as the poor boy stares wide eyed and so clearly confused at her.
“Hi,” he says back, always kind first, already starting to smile back at her, “do I know you?”
His eyes assess Pandora from head to hip until they find the hand she’s holding. Then those beautiful hazel eyes trace up Regulus’ arm, over his shoulder, and up the curve of his chin until they’re locked on his eyes.
Regulus had been rather successfully hiding behind Pandora until this moment. He’s quite glad he stepped out because he swears he sees a flicker of something green and harsh in James’ eyes as they flick back and forth from the held hands and Regulus’ smile.
Jealous, Potter?
“Oh, no, not yet,” Pandora says in response to James, causing James' burning eyes to return to her as she extends her upheld hand towards him and introduces herself, “I’m Pandora.”
He takes her hand and gives her a firm looking shake before looking back at Regulus.
“Nice to meet you, Pandora,” he says, nodding at Regulus as he simply says, “Regulus.”
Regulus nods back, hand sweating in Pandora’s grasp. James is looking at him rather intently, something burning beneath the color of his eyes. Regulus might be drooling.
“Yes, lovely to meet you too, James. We’ll be off now,” Pandora says, already walking away, “we’ve got dinner plans.”
Regulus turns back briefly as Pandora strides off, looking back long enough to see a rather bewildered James standing straight in the middle of the hall. His hands are in tight fists at his sides and he’s grinding his jaw as he stares fire at Regulus and Pandora’s joined hands.
Regulus feels a little bad now, that he can’t go back and comfort James, tell him his is the only hand he wishes to hold. Then he realizes he couldn’t tell him that if they were alone either, or the last people on Earth. Then he just feels a little bad for himself before promptly snapping out of it and watching the clock as dinner passes by.
“You made him jealous, Panda,” he says as he bites at a small pile of mashed potatoes on his plate.
“Oh you’re welcome, you know that just means more fun for you later.”