Way Enough

Regulus 

Evan stared at him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. "You're gonna get back in the pair with that asshole?"

Barty let out a dramatic "Booooo!" from the couch.

Regulus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It’s not an absolute affirmative yet. I just said I’d think about it. I'll still hate him, of course, but I already feel stupid for ending the pair in the first place. Do you know how fucked I’d be if my dad found out I ruined that opportunity for… whatever that was?"

Evan and Barty exchanged a look, their expressions softening just slightly.

"You don’t owe your dad shit, Reg." Evan said.

Regulus let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Yeah, well, tell that to my brain."

Barty made an unimpressed noise, but Regulus ignored it.

"The first reason I even joined rowing to begin with was to get back on my dad's good side after I quit hockey. Well, I don’t know if he has a good side, but at least now he probably calls me a fag behind my back instead of to my face."

The joke landed like a rock in the middle of the room.

Barty opened his mouth, then shut it.

Evan looked like he wanted to fight someone.

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Christ, don’t look at me like that. I’m fine."

"You shouldn’t have to be," Evan muttered.

Regulus waved him off, suddenly eager to change the subject.

They talked a little more, Barty still adamantly pushing the Remus thing, saying something about how if Regulus was hooking up with someone else, rowing with James wouldn’t feel as weird.

Regulus wasn’t convinced.

In fact, he was pretty sure it would feel weirder.

But still…

The idea lingered in the back of his mind, not a yes, but not a no either.

Eventually, he stood, grabbing his coat. "Alright, I have to get lunch with Sirius."

Barty wrinkled his nose. "Ew. Why?"

"It’s part of the agreement," Regulus reminded him. "We go to one of each other’s events, then we get lunch the next day to debrief."

Evan tilted his head. "That’s actually kind of nice."

Regulus scoffed, grabbing his keys. "Yeah, yeah. Try telling Sirius that."

Sirius was already there when he arrived, sitting at a small table near the window of the little French café they’d loved since coming to this school.

He stood when he saw Regulus, shifting slightly on his feet before giving him an awkward hug.

Affection had never come easy for them—too many years of their parents pitting them against each other—but they still tried.

They sat down, ordered, and Sirius leaned back in his chair.

"So," he said. "What did you think of the game?"

Regulus picked up his water, swirling it absentmindedly. "I’m glad you weren’t on the ice when that dumb fight broke out."

Sirius smirked. "Nah, I wish I could’ve been in it. I’ve been itching for a fight. I’d just worry about the other guys."

Regulus rolled his eyes, but there was no malice in it. Just a quiet fondness for his dumb older brother.

Sirius continued, "I’m glad James wasn’t playing. He probably would’ve gotten his head knocked around again—he can’t stay away from a fight."

Regulus tried his best to keep his face neutral at the mention of James.

"He must be suppressing some serious emotions then," he said dryly.

Sirius furrowed his brows. "Huh. I never thought about it like that."

Regulus raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you’ve been itching for a fight?"

Sirius made a face. "Jeez, Reg, quit profiling me. You know me, I never have big feelings."

Regulus deadpanned. "Okay, sure."

Sirius grinned, but it faltered slightly. He took a sip of his drink, then, his eyes flicked to the side as Reg cleared his throat.

"So," he said, voice forcibly light, "have you been seeing anyone recently? Breaking any poor girls' hearts?"

Sirius smirked, but it didn’t feel as confident as usual. "Yeah, you know the drill. Can’t tie me down."

Regulus eyed him for a moment, then glanced down, spinning his fork between his fingers.

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill," he said.

Then, after a beat—

"I actually have been trying to be more like you recently."

Sirius blinked. "Oh?"

Regulus let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "You know. The heartbreaker. Not the brokenhearted."

Sirius tilted his head. "…Reg."

Regulus ignored him, instead looking down at the table. "Do you think it would be stupid of me to casually hook up with someone?"

Sirius hesitated. "Who?"

Regulus shrugged. "No one. Just a teammate."

Sirius’ face twisted. "I would never hook up with a teammate."

"Yeah, but you’re straight."

Sirius stiffened.

Regulus continued. "If there was a hot girl on your team that you knew was kind of interested in you, would you do it?"

Sirius looked like he was actually thinking really hard about that.

Then, after a long pause, "Well, when you put it like that…"

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

Sirius nodded firmly. "Go for it!"

Regulus stared.

Sirius looked a little too enthusiastic, like he was desperately trying to convince himself that the thought of a hot guy being interested in him didn’t make his entire body seize up in some kind of horrified gay panic.

Regulus huffed out a small laugh. "Okay. I’ll go for it."

Because why not?

Remus was cute. Smart. Nice. He seemed interested…ish.

Maybe—maybe—if Regulus just did this, maybe it wouldn’t feel like he was using him to get over James. Maybe it would even feel real. Sirius would definitely prefer it over James. He thought to himself. 

Sirius leaned back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with himself.

Then, after a beat—his eyes narrowed slightly.

"It’s not James, is it?"

Regulus' entire body tensed.

"No," he said far too quickly.

Sirius looked at him for a long moment.

And then—

His nose wrinkled in disgust.

Regulus felt something sink in his chest.

Not anymore, at least.

Sirius didn’t press, instead turning toward the window.

"Okay then." He clapped his hands together. "Oh, here comes the food!"

Their conversation turned more casual after that—talking about school, their parents, bullshitting about nothing.

And as they finished their meal, Regulus let himself sink into the comfortable familiarity of spending time with his brother.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was something.

Once he got back from his lunch with Sirius, he sat on his bed, arms crossed, glaring at his “sad gay little violin” as Barty calls it, like it had personally wronged him. 

And contrary to what Barty might think, he didnt play it after James hurt him. He doesnt get inspired by pain anymore.

He used to—when he was younger, when that was all he ever felt.  When music had been the only thing that felt like his in a world where nothing else did. But now?

Now he only played when he felt love. Well…at least something akin to love. 

Which meant his violin had been silent ever since James Potter decided he wanted to destroy him.

Regulus exhaled sharply, rolling onto his stomach and pressing his forehead into his pillow. Pathetic.

Evan and Barty were right, he needed to move on.

And maybe… Remus Lupin was the way to do it.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached blindly for his phone, unlocked it, and hesitated for only a second before typing out a message.

Regulus: Do you remember when you said I should've just asked you out for real?

Remus: I do indeed.

Regulus: Can I do that?

Remus: Wow… you are horrible at this!

Regulus: Never mind, I’ll just go fuck myself, I guess.

Remus: No no, we wouldn’t want that. I’m going to a party tonight, a friend is throwing it. Would you like to come with me?

Regulus: Please.

Remus: “Please,” I like that.

Regulus: 🙄

Remus: I’ll pick you up at 10.

Regulus locked his phone and tossed it onto his nightstand, flopping onto his back and staring at the ceiling again.

This was good. This was the plan.

He was moving forward.

And he was absolutely not thinking about James. Not even a little.

Now, Regulus hadn’t been nervous.

That would be ridiculous.

He was just… hyper-aware of everything as he walked beside Remus down the dimly lit sidewalk, the cold air nipping at his skin.

Remus had picked him up right on time, grinning in a way that made Regulus feel warm despite the chill in the air. He hadn’t even said much when Regulus stepped out of his apartment in a fitted black button-down, the top two buttons undone just enough to tease, tight jeans hugging his legs in a way that was absolutely intentional.

He didn’t have to say anything.

The way Remus’ eyes raked over him had been enough.

“Where’s this party again?” Regulus asked, tucking his hands into his pockets, trying to pretend like he didn’t feel Remus’ gaze lingering on him.

“My friend Dorcas’ place,” Remus answered, walking just a little too close, the backs of their hands brushing. “She’s a coxswain on the team.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I think I’ve seen her around.”

Remus smiled, “I dont even think I’d still be on the team if it wasnt for her. She’s terrifying in the best way.”

Regulus smirked slightly. “Good coxswains should be.”

Remus glanced over at him, grinning. “So you do have a personality outside of brooding and backhanded insults.”

Regulus scoffed. “Shut up.”

Remus bumped his shoulder, teasing. “Make me.”

Regulus glanced at him, something sharp and playful in his expression. “Don’t tempt me, Lupin.”

Remus’ smirk deepened, but he didn’t push further.

Not yet.

They reached the house soon after, the bass of whatever playlist Dorcas had put on vibrating through the walls. The second they stepped inside, the smell of alcohol, cheap cologne, and too many bodies in a confined space washed over them.

Regulus immediately realized he didn’t know a single fucking person here.

And, for a brief moment, he considered leaving.

But then—Remus caught his wrist, tugging him toward the kitchen.

“Come on,” he said over the music. “You need a drink.”

Regulus let himself be pulled along.

Because maybe that was exactly what he needed.

A few drinks in, and Regulus felt good.

Light.

Free.

It was strange—normally, he felt like he had to be careful at parties. Careful about how he acted, careful about who he spoke to, careful about how people saw him.

But here?

He was just some guy.

Some guy no one knew.

Some guy no one expected anything from.

And he liked it.

He really liked it.

Especially because Remus had barely left his side.

They talked between sips of their drinks, easy and flirtatious, standing just a little too close, their touches lingering a little too long.

At one point, Regulus was leaning against the counter, swirling his drink in his hand, and Remus had stepped up beside him, placing a hand on the counter just beside his.

“You’re not as cold as people make you out to be,” Remus had mused, watching him with a lazy sort of curiosity.

Regulus had tilted his head slightly, giving him a knowing look. “And you’re not as reckless as people make you out to be.”

Remus had smirked, taking a slow sip of his drink. “A shame. I like being known as reckless.”

Regulus’ gaze flickered to his lips. “Then maybe you should prove it.”

Remus’ smirk deepened. “Oh, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Black.”

Regulus had just grinned, tilting his head back to finish the rest of his drink.

“Show me.”

They ended up on the dance floor before Regulus could even register how it happened.

He felt the music vibrating through his chest, felt the burn of alcohol in his veins, felt the warmth of Remus’ hands on his waist as they moved together.

Regulus wasn’t a dancer.

Not really.

But the way Remus touched him, the way their bodies slotted together so easily, the way their hips rolled in sync—it made sense.

His hands found their way into Remus’ curls, tugging slightly just to hear the sound it pulled from him. Remus let out a low hum, his lips brushing against the shell of Regulus’ ear.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured, voice smooth as whiskey.

Regulus just smirked, pressing back against him.

They were teasing each other at this point—slow hands, soft touches, lips grazing over skin without fully committing, like they were both waiting to see who would break first.

And then—

“Do you wanna take this upstairs?”

Remus’ voice was rough, low, thick with need.

Regulus turned his head just enough to meet his gaze.

His eyes were sultry, dark with desire.

“Yes.”

They barely made it through the door before Remus’ mouth was on him, kissing him hard, hands gripping his waist, pulling him flush against him.

Regulus groaned, tilting his head back as Remus’ lips trailed down his jaw, sucking bruises into his neck, leaving him panting.

They tugged at each other’s shirts, Remus laughing as he struggled with the buttons between kisses. Their mouths never staying apart for long, desperate and hungry.

Once both of their shirts were off and discarded somewhere in the room, Regulus pushed him toward the bed, taking control, crawling over him, kissing him slow, dragging his lips down his throat, his collarbones, lower—

Remus was already wrecked, his head tipped back, his breath uneven.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his hands threading through Regulus’ hair. “That feels so good—”

Regulus smirked against his skin, moving lower, his lips tracing over the ridges of his abs, down to his v-line.

Remus moaned, arching into his touch.

Regulus slid a hand down, brushing over the hardness in Remus’ jeans, palming him lightly before going for his belt, fingers nimble, teasing—

And then—

“Mhmm, yes, Sirius.”

Everything stopped.

Regulus froze, his blood turning to ice, his body going rigid like he had just been struck by lightning.

Remus, still blissed out, didn’t even register the shift until—

Regulus practically launched himself off of him.

“What the actual fuck,” Regulus snapped, his voice sharp, eyes wide, breathing hard.

Remus’ eyes shot open, his whole body tensing. “Wait—”

“No. No, no, no, no—are you fucking kidding me?” Regulus ran a hand through his hair, pacing away from the bed like the sheets had just burst into flames.

Remus sat up fast, his face red as hell, his hands in his hair, looking horrified. “Reg, I’m so sorry—”

Regulus let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You’re sorry?” He threw his hands up. “You’re sorry? That’s what you’re going with?”

Remus looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Regulus, for the first time all night, felt completely fucking sober.

“I need to get the fuck out of here,” he muttered, grabbing his shirt off the floor, throwing it on, avoiding eye contact.

“Regulus, wait—”

“Nope.”

Regulus yanked the door open, stepping out into the hallway, his heart slamming against his ribs.

Because of course.

Of fucking course.

He had spent all night trying to forget about James—

And Remus had spent all night trying to forget about Sirius.

Regulus made it halfway down the hall before he stopped.

His blood was still rushing in his ears, his face still burning with humiliation, and—

No.

He turned sharply on his heel.

Because fuck that.

He wasn’t just going to walk away like some kind of idiot—wasn’t going to let Remus get off easy after that.

He stormed back into the room, slamming the door shut behind him, making Remus flinch where he was still sitting on the bed, head in his hands, looking like he wanted to drop dead.

“No. Actually—” Regulus snapped, his voice like a whip. “Fucking explain yourself.”

Remus swallowed hard, looking up, his face still red as hell. “Reg—”

“Are you some kind of fucking stalker or what?” Regulus demanded, pacing back toward the bed, crossing his arms tight over his chest. “Because this is weird, Lupin. Really fucking weird.”

Remus scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling hard, looking like he was trying to find the words—like he wanted to explain but didn’t know where to start.

Regulus just narrowed his eyes, his chest still rising and falling with leftover adrenaline.

Because what the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

He had come here tonight to move on. To have fun. To let himself feel something new for once.

And instead?

Instead, he had ended up half-naked with a guy who had moaned his brother’s name.

He deserved an explanation.

And he wasn’t leaving until he got one.