Chapter Text
James Potter has decided something is going to happen.
He is 14 years of age and nothing of significance has happened to him yet. The only thing he could probably say is when Sirius Orion No-Last-Name waltzed into his life with flaming eyes and all the charm of a beguiling witch.
He beguiled the hell out of James, that's for damn sure. Beguiled the hell out of Remus even more- God those two, James has never seen a pair of people better suited for each other.
Sirius claimed they were soulmates one night while they were drunk on a London rooftop together.
"The thing about Moony is..." he'd slurred gently, rocking onto James's shoulder, "We're soulmates."
"Soulmates huh?" James squinted out to the stars.
"Yeah."
James huffed out a small laugh. "Does that make me and Pete soulmates too?"
Sirius had glanced down with a funny sort of look in his eyes. "Yeah. Sure, if you like."
James leant back on the chimney and held his hand out for the flask. "Pfft. Soulmates."
"Whats so funny?" Sirius had pushed him gently, then harder and harder till James gave in, laughing.
"I don't believe in soulmates." he'd admitted finally.
"Then you haven't met yours yet." Sirius had said instantly. James laughed again, knocking his head against the brick. "Hey, I'm serious Prongs."
"Evans-"
"Ahh, don't give me that Evans bull, you and I both know she's not the one."
"I love her, Sirius."
"James, you're 14, no you don't."
"Well then how the hell do you know you and Rem are soulmates?"
Sirius had sighed then, and kicked his legs out long and gangly. "Haven't you ever felt it? That feeling? When you look in someones eyes and you just know, this is the one I want to be with forever. When every single time you're with them you're alive and you just... you just know Prongs. I can't describe it. He's my soulmate."
"Well then you're my soulmate! And so's Rem! And Pete!" James folded his glasses up and rubbed his eyes.
There was a long pause, and then Sirius sighed again and looked down with a sad, patronising gleam in his eye. "You're a right thicko you know Potter?"
"Shut up Sirius, sorry I'm not in loooove..." he joked.
Sirius laughed a little "Fuck off." and then looked out to the stars, but there was something in his eyes that James just couldn't quite read.
~~~
James Potter is 15 years old when his family moves to the country.
He leaves behind a lot of- quite frankly- brilliant friends, sadly being unable to convince them (only half jokingly) to move away with him.
Effie and Monty Potter are a little worried at the harsh separation James is going to have to go through, but like all good parents they know their son, and they know that nothing much will keep him down for long.
So in the end it's through an optimists brain that James sees his new home, face squished up in awe against the window of the train. He is largely struck by how it is different, starkly different to anything he's seen before.
It makes him feel quite small, that first view of Hogsmeade Village.
He does have vague memories of the French countryside from when he was 7, but none of those blurry, half formed images can compare to the beauty and immensity of that which he sees now.
Great, sprawling trees stand every few feet, and there isn't a place not covered with fresh green grass- even from inside the train James can hear birds, bloody birds chirping, like he's the protagonist in some old romantic novella. He's never been brilliant at romanticising his life, choosing to take the time honoured classic approach of 'find mates, have fun, screw around' over anything else.
But the thought occurs to him as the train brakes screech to a halt, that his life is probably going to be a whole lot different to that now.
~~~
"James!"
He shoves his head under his pillow and lets out a muffled groan.
"James!"
It goes scarily silent for a few moments and James peeks his head out with apprehension.
"James. Fleamont. Potter. Drag your sorry behind down here before I come up and make you." it is said so quietly (but grimly) he almost doesn't catch it, but when his mother uses that voice its pretty clear he only has one option.
With a short huff he rolls out of bed and thuds onto the floor.
"Don't you break my bloody floorboards child!"
He shuffles downstairs with a long, extended sigh that carries him all the way to the kitchen. Effie is standing with her hands on her hips in front of the breakfast table.
"Technically," he yawns, "We've been here for like two days so I wouldn't say they're your floorboards."
"Check the lease, son of mine."
James rolls his eyes and caves, plopping into the chair and pulling the hot bowl of porridge towards him.
Effie laughs a little at his antics, but there is concern in her eyes. She wants to believe his attitude is just due to the current time (her son is proudly against early birds like herself), but a part of her wonders whether he isn't adjusting as well as they'd hoped.
She hears Monty's voice in her head, 'Don't start jumping to conclusions Effie, the boy's barely been here a day'
She relaxes, squeezing out the dishcloth in her hands and letting go of her stress.
James spoons some porridge into his mouth as he stares out of the open window. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to the view. Their new home is on a big plot of land where there are lots of little cottages and one super big house that they passed on the way here.
He's already made about ten jokes about the house falling down since he's got here, and every time his parents just sigh endearingly (he only got smacked with a cloth once).
Since he was forced up at such an ungodly hour, the sun is just beginning to crest over the trees. Even as he watches it becomes unbearable to look at, the stab of light too strong for human eyes.
"Mum?"
"Yes darling?" she doesn't look up from her washing up.
"Remember how I always wanted to watch a proper sunrise back in London?"
"Yes, I remember when you fell off my bloody roof trying to get a good view!"
"Our roof, Mother."
"It'll be our roof when you start paying rent, sweetie."
"Okay but would you say our roof to Dad?"
She puts her cloth down at that, and turns to smile pityingly at James. "Um, sure. Thats a very sweet idea."
"You're too hard on the old man." James waves a spoon at her to illustrate his point before chucking it onto the table and racing outside.
He stands in the middle of the lawn and exhales. "Phewwww..." into the summer breeze and then inhales again, the scent of countryside flowers, fresh grass and far away cooking tickling the roof of his mouth.
He hums contentedly, before walking a few paces across the lawn and sitting down in the middle. The grass would usually be wet from dew, but the weather in this part of England is apparently constantly set to 'scorching'.
Not that James minds, he's always been more for summer than winter.
Winter makes him think of Remus, another friend left behind in London. Remus physically detested summer, the man only felt right with a hot chocolate, fireplace, book and an ugly, ugly sweater.
He sharply huffs a breath out, feeling an unhappy tug on his heartstrings and getting angry at himself because of it.
Jesus Christ he misses them all.
It's selfish to, he knows.
They had to move here.
For his Dad's job, he knows its important and he knows they probably wouldn't of been able to manage much longer on a London rent.
For his Mother, cooped up in London, born a country girl at heart.
He knows all that, he does.
It just sort of sucks.
As he is lying with his feet kicked out in front of him, propped up on his elbows, the sun washes over the lawn.
Previously darkened grass is covered in a spill of light, dappling the strands yellow and green with sun. The rays move slowly up the lawn, creeping up on him as he lies there. A grin starts spreading across his face and he has the stupid little kid urge to run, like how people run from waves on the beach.
The light reaches his toes and he wiggles them, letting out a giggle despite himself. It crawls up his whole body and he drops his head back and properly laughs, letting the heat wash over him.
Finally the entirety of his front garden is covered with light.
He loves it, loves the summer and even though its a little hard to admit, its kind of way better out here in the open.
Where 'feeling the breeze' isn't a metaphor for some guy farting right as you pass him in the street.
Where he feels... home.
"Mum?" he yells in the general direction of the house.
She's not answering and he's way too comfy to move from his spot without a proper motive.
"Mum?"
Still no response. He thinks about going inside and asking her permission to leave.
But also.
He wants to go exploring.
He really wants to go exploring.
He brushes grass off the back of his legs, springs to his feet and pelts out into the town.
Even though it's still far too early to be functioning in his personal opinion, the entire town seems to think otherwise. Theres a long road from James' house into the proper town centre. He's been there exactly once, and it was on a supply run with his Dad so there wasn't much time to, you know, have actual fun.
The road seems way lengthier than last time. His eyesight is pretty shit, but when he squints into the distance he literally can't see anything. Just a long dirt track with a whole lot of forest and lawn on either side.
After about twenty minutes his shoes are caked with reddish brownish dirt. He winces looking at them, knowing he's probably going to get yelled at for that later. But the next time looks up, miraculously, Hogsmeade is in front of him. He grins, unable to help himself, and jogs right up to the seam where dirt path becomes main road.
He steps easily over, devoid of hesitance and with barely contained glee- head swiping this way and that to try and drink in everything at once. Women with long skirts sweep through the streets almost knocking him off his feet, laughing, talking, sending sly glances at each other and men are just sort of standing around looking, on the whole, more uptight.
Come on, guys, James thinks, really letting down the male community here.
He decides he's going to have to hold the men of Hogsmeade on his shoulders. His plan consists of being as loud, spirited and carefree as possible. God he hopes he never grows up.
Five minutes of aimless (but fun) wandering and he's really wishing he'd bought some money.
There are so many cool places and things and everywhere is so... different to London. I mean there is a literal sweet shop. Literally filled with sweets. In fucking jars. Its everything he's ever wanted.
Damn he really should've asked his Mum.
Some bells start really clanging it out and he has half a mind to tell them to shut up, but after a second looking around at the calm little village, he feels like things might be a bit more... peaceful... and undisturbed here.
It does really make one want to disturb, though.
Really does.
To be honest if he was with friends he probably would be running around causing trouble. Thing is, he mulls as he strolls into a fabric shop, he never really looked for trouble. Trouble just sort of casually rolled in, did a massive shit, and then rolled back out and left him to clean up the mess.
He did enjoy it though.
He finds a really cool bakery down a little quiet alleyway, but its the back of it and James knows you can't go in through the back of a shop.
He tries to find it again round the other side of the street but he's always had a crap sense of direction. Probably should've thought of that before he left.
He's not entirely sure how long he's been out, but since he has no money or friends and he's pretty much explored everything interesting, there's not that much point in sticking around.
Eventually he manages to get out of town centre, and after sort of floating around he finds himself on his way back to the cottage. His boots get thoroughly coated with mud again, and its while he's rolling his eyes to the heavens that he spots it.
A flicker of movement in the corner of his left eye.
He turns his head to watch it, and realises his journey has drawn him level to the huge house on his road.
His eyes drift to the sign in front of the big driveway and iron gates.
~ The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black ~
"Sounds a bit intense." he mutters, before training his gaze once more on the movement.
At almost the top window, someone is hovering just beyond his eyesight. Almost like it's on purpose.
It looks like a silhouette of a man, teenager judging by the height and stature.
James sidesteps along the path, trying to get a better view. The figure seems to move in the other direction, purposely shielding themselves.
"Come on!" James says aloud, throwing his hands up lightheartedly in the direction of the window.
He stands still for a second, trying to guess where the face in the shadow is and make eye contact. Then he dives to the left and jogs along a little until he gets a clear view.
"Boom, gotcha."
It's a male teenager with black hair.
"Okay well not gotcha but like, got some stuff about... ya..." James nods like an idiot for a while before realising he's talking to a shadow in a window who's probably just looking at the trees or the view or something.
He hasn't moved away though, says a voice in the back of his head.
"Alright, I'm an idiot." James salutes the window and moves away. He can't resist chucking back one more glance, but the shadow is gone and actually the room looks empty.
Completely empty.
His brows dig a knot of worry into his forehead. He's not sure why, but something about the sudden bareness of the room just feels off.
He makes a mental note to ask his Mum and Dad about the 'cool old black house' or whatever its called.
But first, he is hungry as fuck.
~~~
"Hey, Mum, Dad." James calls, kicking his shoes off and walking into the kitchen.
"Your Dad isn't home yet, honey." Powerhouse as always, Effie is whisking about five different bowls of unidentifiable food at once. "Now where were you all morning?"
"I wanted to see the village again, properly." James throws himself onto a chair and rakes a hand through his hair. "Do you know there's a sweet shop?"
"Oh, yeah!"
"A sweet shop, Mum."
"Mmm." she sashays through the kitchen to put something in the oven, pausing to ruffle his hair affectionately.
"Ah- God-" he flattens his hair desperately. And then messes it up again, flipping his hair up and giving a cocky smile.
"Practicing the moves for the ladies on me now Jamie?"
"Ew. Don't make it weird, Mum."
"Oh no I think its lovely moonpie, I mean God knows you need the practice it sure didn't work out with that lovely girl, Lily right?"
"God Mum don't bring that up it was embarrassing and like a year ago." his voice is starting to choke up and he clears his throat to hide it, ducking his head.
Effie stiffens and turns instantly, probably some Mum signals going off in her brain. She puts down a saucepan filled with soup and rushes over to him.
"Baby I was just teasing I didn't realise it would make you that upset!? Do you still like her, or..."
"No." his voice is husky and he takes off his glasses and folds them with shaking hands. "No its not that, Mum its just..."
She strokes his hair and says almost inaudibly, "What, sweetie?"
"Moonpie..." the word is a sob tearing out of him and it breaks on the last syllable as she folds him into her.
"I'm so sorry, it was just automatic for me, I didn't mean to upset you I know it makes you think of Remus."
At his name James cries harder, huge, racking howls being stripped from his body. And his mother, his beautiful mother just stands there, holding him from behind, and absorbing his pain and holding it for him, the both of them together.
"I miss them, Mum, I- I really miss-"
"I know, I know you do sweetie I miss them too." she whispers and he knows its true, knows this burden is for them both to bear.
"Sirius." he tries to get his voice under control and fails miserably but presses on anyway, "Sirius, Peter and Remus." it gets a little stronger and he says "Those are my best friends in the whole world, that's who I left behind."
He lets out a long, shaky exhale and then wipes his eyes and sits a bit more upright. "Okay. I'm glad I said it. I have... a bad habit of keeping things inside even when it hurts."
Effie kneels down and cups his face with her soft palms. "Honey. If something you're keeping inside is hurting, it is wrong. And I might be a bit biased because I'm your mother-" her voice cracks and she thumbs his cheek as she gets her voice ready, "But if anything hurts my baby I want to be told immediately, okay? So if you decide you want to talk about any of your boys or even Lily goddam Evans, you come right here and you tell me. Okay?"
"Okay, Mum. I love you." he breathes a refreshed breath and already starts to actually smile.
"Jesus, Jamie you could never hold a grudge could you?" she asks fondly.
"Nah, my attention span is too short." he swipes his eyes once more. "Can you make me some hot chocolate?"
~~~
He curls up on an armchair as he sips it, the warmth spreading right down his throat like the sun on the lawn.
"You're going to burn your tongue."
"Noiwont." he slurs the words together as he swallows. "AH-" he goes quiet immediately.
"Did you burn it?"
"No." he says primly. A thought breaches the surface of his mind in a flash and he sits up straighter in the chair. "Mum, who lives in the old house of Black down the road?"
Effie hisses as her needle brings a bead of blood to her thumb. "Thats noble and ancient to you." she says with a touch of sarcasm.
"Yeah yeah." he rolls his eyes, "Who are they?'
"They pretty much own this place."
"THE WHOLE VILLAGE!?"
"No, God no, but they do have some sort of hold on the place, probably could buy it out if they wanted to."
"You're exaggerating." he leans back and looks at her with eyes full of wit.
She shrugs, "Believe what you will."
He goes about five seconds before curiosity gets the better of him. "Okay so what, it's a family?"
"Yes." she smiles and holds out her work. "Walburga, Orion they own the place. Got a constant stream of cousins and aunts, in and out."
"How the hell do you know all this Mum, we've barely been here a day."
"Mixture of research, and friends in the right places."
"There a-" he tries to act casual as he asks this, "There a kid in there?"
"Oh you wanna see who you can be friends with?"
James smiles awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. Sure."
To be honest he just wants to know about the disappearing boy, mostly why he disappeared, how, and if he's okay.
"Well there's a boy, a son yes. I'm an old bird though, Jamie, and my sources don't really talk about kids all that much."
James tries to squish his disappointment. "Ew, why not? Who cares about Wall burger and Oree-"
"Orion darling, and I do."
"Why?"
Effie stops her stitching for a moment and looks at him with an appraising glance. "Because they could probably take back our house, leave us in the dirt, and call it fun."
James flinches unintentionally. For once Effie doesn't pick up on it, too busy squinting at her work again. "Anyway, why the sudden interest in them?"
"Oh." he chugs the rest and places the mug on the table. "Just looks like a bloody cool house."
"Hm!" Effie smiles at her lap.
"Effie! Jamie!" a voice rings from next door.
"Monty!" she stands up immediately, beam spreading across her face as she rushes into the hallway.
"Wow," James mutters, "Won't even look at me that whole time and the second your husband comes in-"
"Jamie, there's my boy." Monty walks in awkwardly (everything his Dad does seems to have a touch of awkwardness) and ruffles his hair.
"Hi, Dad. How was the first day?"
"Great! I might be a tad sawdusty, though."
"Yeah, carpenting will do that to you." James nods. Apparently he layered on the seriousness a bit too thickly because his Dad adjusts his glasses and stares at him, humour dancing in his eyes.
"You mocking me boy?"
"Maybe."
"You're gonna regret that."
James turns his head up to look at him and smiles with full teeth. "Maybe. But I don't think I will."
"Yes... you're probably right." he ruffles his hair once more before sitting in a chair next to him.
"Jamie was asking about the Blacks, Mont." Effie supplies helpfully from the kitchen.
"Ah." Monty looks even more awkward.
James throws his hands up, "What so you all hate them?"
"Son-"
"Idle talk is deadly, father of mine."
"So is trusting everyone you meet, son of mine."
He glares a little, before subsiding with a smile. "Yes... you're probably right."
"Definitely right son, I'm your father."
"Ugh." James folds his arms in annoyance, and for a while, that was that.
~~~
Or at least, that was supposed to be that.
But James finds a lot of excuses, really far too many excuses to walk past that house.
I mean it's pretty great that it's on the way into town, but even his parents are a little suspicious when he starts leaping at the chance to go on errands.
"I'm getting worried for your health, James." his mother says when he races to get groceries for the fifth time that week.
"I'm fine!" he grabs the list and races out through the front door. After a minute he sticks his head back round, kisses her on the cheek and races back out again.
He speedwalks the first few minutes till the trees part and the house comes into view, always surprising him, always closer than he realises. Just a few moments away.
And then, when the path draws level with the house, he slows, each step becoming a mile to walk.
He pretends he isn't going to.
He tries, he really does.
"Goddamit!" he yells to no one in particular, and then wanders over to the fence, hopping up with a slightly frustrated huff. Same place he always sits. He lets his legs dangle long, till they almost touch the grass, before pulling them back up and setting them down on the wooden fencing beneath him.
Unable to avoid it any longer, he peers through the sun and trains his eyes on the window.
You know, the one he's stalking a kid through?
"Ah, go jump off a bridge mysterious window boy." he says quietly to himself, preparing for a long while of sitting.
Sure enough, after only a few minutes he appears.
Hovering just by the edge of the window. A black shadow. Watching him?
Maybe.
That sends a thrill up James's spine and he shivers.
"Who are you?" the words slip from his mouth unbidden and he breaks off his gaze, embarrassed, even though there's no way he could've been heard.
When he looks back, he can see a hand pressed gently to the window.
Its small, though everything looks small from a distance, so really who knows.
The figure comes so close to being seen that he actually blows on the glass to fog it all up and hide himself.
"Ah, come on, that's cheating!" James says, tongue poking out between his teeth in a smile.
As he watches, the figure turns sharply as if hearing a noise, and its posture stiffens instantly. The hand is whipped from the window, and all that is left is the quickly fading print.
James sits there a few long seconds, but the shadow simply crosses the room (and presumably leaves it) and doesn't return.
Wrong.
The feeling crashes into James and he gets an even more violent shiver, bad this time, and before he does something stupid like kicking the door down he jumps up and hurries away.
~~~
He goes back. To the house. Every time he's scared he'll never see the shadow boy again, and every time he's stupidly relieved when he sidles into view.
His parents don't truly suspect much, and he's been careful asking about the Blacks again after the responses he'd gotten last time.
His thoughts on their family remain neutral. A casual (okay maybe a bit more than casual) interest in their son, and an unchanged view on the rest of the family.
James Potter, he likes to believe that people are good. He likes to believe in them no matter what he's heard, no matter what everyone else decides to think.
Peter used to call him naïve all the time for that, but he doesn't think it is, not if you're smart about it.
Look it's not like he's going to march in and demand to see and befriend the noble ancient Black child or anything, he just...
He's interested!
I mean can you blame him? He's never even seen him go outside, just staying up there in that fucking massive house, I mean the man must be pale as a ghos-
Oh.
Oh.
Hello.
There is a boy, sitting on the fence.
The same fence he's been sitting on almost every day for the past few weeks.
The same spot. Practically down to the post.
Which someone would probably only know if they'd been watching him every day from a window for the past few weeks.
Oh.
The boy is staring right at him, eyes a little squinted from the sun. (James was right, he's pale as a ghost) His hair is black, short but also fluffy with soft pretty waves. As he watches him carefully, some falls into his face- but he doesn't move it or tuck it behind, just keeps watching James.
Although he is sitting on a fence, his posture is stiff and he holds himself tentatively. Regally.
"Hello." he says, "I'm Regulus."
"H- hi, hi there I'm, um, James. Potter."
The boy nods, but doesn't look very surprised.
James cocks his head. "I'm sorry, but do you know me?"
"Regulus Black," the boy responds wryly, and James gets a tingle of excitement because now he knows for sure who this boy is. "I know pretty much everybody."
"Ah." James says, "Yes, my parents-" he stops, because he is not sure how to finish that sentence.
"Your parents probably don't like me very much, do they?" Regulus says, quite matter of factly.
"They-" James stops again, and lets out a self deprecating laugh. "God, can't finish one bloody sentence can I?"
"Apparently not." his mouth is a flat line but if James squints he's pretty sure he can see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
Regulus seems to notice the scrutiny, clearing his throat and tossing his hair back a little.
A corner of James's mouth lifts in a smile. Regulus Black wasn't used to being observed. At least not like this.
Like what, James?
Hell if I know.
Regulus seems to be becoming increasingly more uncomfortable as seconds go by, but for some reason he isn't moving.
"So um." James attempts to pick up the slack in the conversation, gesturing like an idiot to the house. "Noble and Ancient House of Black, huh?"
The boy smiles, a twist of the mouth that is probably more of a grimace. "Thats us."
"Aw don't feel down, you don't look ancient to me."
Regulus rolls his eyes disdainfully and James pretends to wither under his glare.
"Do you think I'm noble, then?" asks the boy, sliding cautiously down from the fence and leaning on it across from James.
"I think you try very hard to be." James replies quietly after a moment.
Regulus' eyes go wide before he narrows them and his face ripples, forcefully smoothed over by a carefully neutral expression of boredom.
"Woah." breathes James involuntarily, feeling like he just witnessed an insanely controlled piece of acting, and also feeling like he wants to know where and why Regulus learnt how to do that.
"Oh pick your jaw up, Potter, I'm not that pretty." the boy snaps defensively, already beginning to bristle and raise walls.
"You really are." again, his tongue trips away without warning- but to be fair, he really is. High cheekbones that accentuate his perfect jawline, smooth pale skin, big, soulful eyes that he tries to make more intimidating by narrowing, beautiful hair that just aches to have hands run through it, rosy lips with the pretty guise of plumpness that, when stretched to their full potential, become strikingly and attractively thin, and he's been so caught up with that he hasn't even begun to survey his body.
Regulus makes an expression that James recognises as one of someone biting their lip from the inside, before shaking his curls once and turning away.
"Reg?" James isn't quite ready to lose him yet, indeed he almost reaches out and snags his sleeve before stopping himself.
"Black. Not Regulus, certainly not Reg, Black." Regulus spits the words out while facing away from him, hovering for a beat before taking off towards the gate and slamming it shut behind him.
He doesn't look back at James once.
Before he can even attempt to pick apart that interaction he walks home, pushing all thoughts of Regulus Black from his mind for a relieving few minutes until he crosses the threshold and his father intercepts him immediately.
"Wheres my milk?"
James looks up with dull eyes. "Hmm?"
"My milk, Jamie."
"Oh, bugger I'm sorry Dad I just-" he steps in the hallway and starts to shut the door.
Monty bars it from closing and looks at him dead on. "Got anything to do today?"
"Uh, no, I-"
"Great. Milk please!"
"Dad, could I please just-" he rubs a hand through his hair and sighs out loud.
His Dad properly looks at him then. "James, are you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah just... tired." he gives a genuinely convincing smile (years of practice) before moving past him robotically.
He manages to make it to his bedroom without being stopped, and the second the door is shut he sags against it, smile dripping off his face like wax.
Fuck.
What was that?
What did he do wrong?
He buries his face in his hands and slides down the back of his door.
Does Regulus hate him?
Does James care?
His head explodes with confusion and sadness and he folds in on himself.
He definitely cares.
Why the hell does he care?
"Pfffffff..." he exhales in pain and knocks his head back against the door, once, twice.
Regulus bloody Black.
He doesn't even get what happened is the strange part. He didn't say something stupid or insensitive, and for a second he really thought that Regulus liked him, or at least wanted to speak to him. Why else would he be sitting there, waiting for him?
He drags two hands through his hair and groans out loud again.
Thinking about it, he's probably attracted to mystery when it comes to looking for friends. Judging on both past and present choices.
He didn't even get to ask all the questions he wanted to.
Pretty much the only thing he learnt was his name.
Though to be fair its a lovely name and it suits him very well.
Okay, James, time to stop messing about over one stupid attempt at making friends that didn't go well. It's not a big deal. Just curiosity that doesn't matter any more.
To be honest, what a weirdo.
He is done with him.
Yeah. What a weirdo.
Who watches someone from a window for weeks, waits on a fence for them, and then randomly starts being cold and annoying, probably because they got... scared... or maybe something to do with their... parents... who apparently... kind of suck...
Okay maybe Regulus had his reasons.
James smacks the floor and his face scrunches up in anguish without his permission.
Oh God he's not done with him.
He's very much not done with him.
~~~
"Hello."
A voice appears out of nowhere, feminine and tinged with playfulness.
"Wha- uh- hi!" James rakes his curls out of his face and swings round to the voice. A girl is leaning against the wall next to him, grinning. Blonde waves bounce down her back as she unfurls her arms and steps towards him.
"I saw you looking at the shop." she gestures towards the window.
"Oh! Yes!" James looks back at the cake shop. "Uh, well, I can't find it. The front of it, I mean. I've found the back about five separate times but every time I try to get to the front I just get... lost..." he trails off, slightly put off by the grin spreading across the girls' face.
She notices and smirks again. "Stop pouting, I'll show you."
James smiles rather nervously, "Thanks! Uh, what's your name?"
"Marlene McKinnon."
"James Potter." he sticks out a hand to shake.
She scoffs and turns on her heel, striding away.
"Do you-"
James scoots forward a step, watching her retreating figure.
"Do you want me to follow you, or?"
She turns and grins wickedly.
"Not really an answer." he mutters.
"Ta-da!" she flings her arms dramatically at the shop window. James beams and shoves his face against it.
"I knew this was a good shop. I knew it!"
"Thanks." says Marlene, watching him with a smile.
He drags himself away from the almond flaked croissants, query in his eyes. "Thanks?"
"My family owns this bakery. I work here a lot. It's how I saw you having some... trouble back there."
"Look, you should've put your shop in a place that's easier to find!"
"It's on the bloody high street, Potter!"
James looks around, nodding. "Oh. Yeah, you're right."
"I know I'm right, it's my shop."
James grins in a sort of careless, windswept way. "Oh. Yeah! Thats so cool, Marlene." he turns back round to the window, "Go on then, which ones are yours?"
"Wow, just assuming I do the baking. Sexist much, Potter?"
"No, just observant."
She looks confused, thrown off, and he gives a cocky grin. "Flour. On your clothes."
"That could be from anything."
"Okay let me rephrase. Flour on your apron. Remind me what aprons are used for?"
Marlene rolls her tongue around her mouth and eventually smiles back. "Touché, Potter." and with that, she joins him at the window. "Mmm. Those bakewells are mine. And the brownies."
James squints. "Oh, my god, teach me."
She laughs, "Come in, I'll show you more." she flashes her teeth. "You can meet my parents."
"Haha... cool."
"Don't look so terrified, they're pathetically friendly."
"Oh? One might say the same about you."
"Please." she pushes open the door, "You weren't a tiny bit scared of me?"
"Touché, McKinnon."
He follows her in tentatively and the smell hits him instantly, pastries and fruits and sweetness billowing all around them.
He feels his mouth drop open and Marlene cooes at him, "Aw, James!"
"This is amazing." he decides, spinning slowly to take in everything at once. His eyes feel like they're about to fall out of his head and melt in a puddle on the floor.
"Can I- crap I didn't bring any money."
"Shame." Marlene grabs his hand and guides him through the shop, "Though, if you work for it I could probably let you off."
"Work for it? Oh..." he tries not to smile as she produces an apron.
"Not masculine enough for you?"
"Nah, with these muscles I'll be masculine no matter what I do. It's a curse." he peers into the cupboard and points at another apron. "I'll have the flowery one please."
"On it. And Potter?"
He looks at her questioningly.
She rolls up her dress sleeve and flexes a bicep.
"Holy shit McKinnon!"
She bites her tongue with a smile and and pulls it back down. "With these muscles, I'll be masculine no matter what I do. It's a curse."
"Okay, that was unnecessary, and side note I think I might be a little bit in love with you."
She laughs loudly and boots open the back door to the kitchen.
"Marlene!" a man turns round immediately from creating some elaborate bake, "You're supposed to be manning the till!"
James stares at her with a smirk, "Oh really?"
She shoots a nanosecond long glare at him before pursing her lips angelically towards the man. "Oh I know Papa I'd just really like to bake with James."
His eyes widen with understanding and he instantly starts dusting his hands off and preparing to leave. "Ah, of course sweetie, ah, Donna!"
A woman walks in from the back, her hair silky and blonde like Marlene's but far shorter. "What?"
"Marlene wants to bake with this nice boy." he gives his wife a suggestive look and she catches on right away.
"Oh! Okay! We'll work the till then darling, don't worry about it." she gives her a quick hug and then they leave hurriedly in a cloud of flour and excitement, the door slamming closed and leaving them alone.
James doesn't know whether to be terrified or amused.
"Um. Marlene-"
"I'm not actually going to snog you, Potter." she says dryly, clearing a space for them on the countertop. It looks as though there's been a snowstorm in the little kitchen, with powdery flour and sugar covering every surface.
"Oh thank God okay."
"Rude!" she says, without much bitterness.
"It's not you I swear, I just... don't think I'm ready for any of that yet."
She directs him to a tap and he starts washing his hands.
"How so?"
"Well I tried being in love, it didn't really work out."
"Huh." Marlene grabs a few ingredients from around the room and James shadows her. She turns to face him and tilts her head a little. "Maybe you're looking in the wrong places." her eyes are sad, like she knows something he doesn't.
It unnerves him, her words, so like he always does he cracks a joke and laughs it off. "You sure you're not coming onto me, McKinnon?"
She grabs a washcloth and whacks him over the head.
"Okay so we're going to make brownies because they're easy."
"It doesn't look easy to me."
"Jesus, complaining already?"
"No no, continue great teacher."
She rolls her eyes and gives him a little dish. "Cut the butter into cubes and then put it in the bowl."
He takes it, peering over her shoulder, "What are you doing?"
She pulls out something from under her skirts. "Chocolate."
"What the hell is that doing there!?"
She starts unwrapping it, and snapping it into pieces. "My parents only let me get the boring stuff, but the best flavour is salted caramel."
"How come I just get to cut butter?"
"Because if I let you do the chocolate you'd eat most of it."
"You don't know me!"
"I'm right though."
He doesn't say anything, but after a few moments he starts chopping.
After about twenty minutes, they've got a bowl of chocolatey mixture cooling on the tabletop while Marlene preps the oven.
"Look at this." she slaps his fingers as they move towards the bowl, "Look! You're going to need to know how to do this yourself someday."
He sighs dramatically "And what an awful day that will be."
"Oh yes, God forbid a man ever do anything for himself rather than get a woman to do it all for him." she adjusts a shelf in the oven, moving it up a few slots until it sits in the middle. "-and then leave her with zero credit. Bowl."
James doesn't move. "Bowl, James!"
"Okay!" he passes it over and she jams it in efficiently, closing the oven door with a brisk slam.
"Now?"
"Now, we wait."
"How long?"
"Thiiirty minutes, give or take?"
He dusts off his floury hands. "Thats longer than it took to actually make the damn things!"
"Ah the pains of being a baker."
He hops up onto one of the counters and swings his legs. "What'll we do in the meantime?"
"Torture my parents a little bit more?"
James's face freezes and he tries to backtrack.
"Pleeease?" she steps towards him, in between his legs, and places her hands on his knees. "Its so funny..."
He clutches his chest and looks down at her, "You're killing me woman."
"As if you care what I think."
He grins, "You're right, it just would be really funny."
They leave together, exiting the kitchen as Marlene announces "Done!" with a tad of extra flourish.
"Hey baby." her father comes over from the till and kisses her hair.
"Papa. Papa, stop!" he eventually relents, and she looks up at him with pure adoration in her eyes. "Papa we want to do the till."
"Mmm, first you want the kitchen, now you want the till?"
"John! Stop nagging them, come on we'll go to the kitchen." Donna bustles past and Marlene tells them quickly about the brownies in the oven.
"If you let them burn- IF YOU LET-" the door swings shut behind them and she huffs loudly. "Watch when they burn. Watch."
"Relax..." drawls James and she takes a swing at him. Suddenly she stops, and collapses against a table dramatically.
"Oh, God."
"What?"
"Its 11, which means its time for my least favourite customer..."
James snorts, "Again... what?"
"Every bloody Sunday..." she runs her hands through her hair in frustration and points to the door right as the bell dings.
James tries to stop his laughter as he looks towards the door, desperate to watch Marlene handle her apparently least favourite customer.
And oh.
It's him.
It's Regulus bloody Black.
James watches him carefully, and waits for the exact moment when the boy looks up and their eyes meet.
The boy's face stays completely blank but he can't hide the flash of surprise and... something else in his eyes.
"In and out, Black." Marlene mutters, head still in her hands.
"Very professional of you." Regulus says stiffly, and James almost wilts from how closed off he looks, how empty.
She stands and grips the desk, shoving a paper bag at him that James assumes carries Regulus's usual order.
He gives her some money, carefully avoiding James's eyes though he's not sure why.
Okay that's a lie, he is sure why.
It's weird.
They're weird.
He's weird.
That boy. Is weird.
He realises he's been standing still doing nothing for about three minutes, and quickly wanders over to Marlene behind the desk.
"Whats in the bag, Black?" he says, and maybe it comes out with a bit more ferocity than intended because he thinks he sees Regulus flinch.
He doesn't answer, just takes the bag and walks out. James watches him leave until he's out of sight.
He sees Marlene watching him with a strange expression. "Do you... know him?"
"Nah." James says, and the words hurt him, "He just owns my house."
Marlene rolls her eyes "Of course he does."
~~~
"Mum?" James asks.
"Yes?"
He shoves a forkful of pasta into his mouth and tries to hide his slowly growing smile. “I think I made a friend."
His mother clucks and smiles fondly. “Thats lovely, darling!”
"Yeah, she’s awesome."
Instant regret surges through him as Effie pounces on the knowledge like a panther. "She?"
"Don’t even think about it, Mum. We’re friends. I feel like I’ve known her my whole life."
He doesn’t attempt to explain the 100% platonic yet romantic (and sexual) jokes between them, because he just knows his mother wouldn’t understand. And fair enough, its a hard feeling to describe, the comforting knowledge that neither of them could ever conceive the idea of being partners. He’s not really had that with a girl before, and it feels amazing. It feels like mates.
"Thats exactly what I told my best friend Margie about your father. Isn’t that right, Monty? Tell him."
James clutches his head, having deeply underestimated his mothers’ interest in this.
"Well yes, your mother went to Margie, who was of course her best friend at the time, remember? In school? And then she told her about a dashing young man she’d met, who was of course me at the time-"
"Yes, wow, lovely, brilliant." James stands abruptly and carries his plate over to the sink.
"-what was our first date Effie darling, did we go and swim by the river? Yes, that was it because you told me-"
"-Fleamont Potter, I daresay I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up putting a ring on my finger!" they chorus, disgustingly affectionate, James taking his cue to back out of the room and wang the door shut just before they kiss.
He shivers. "I don’t think I’ll ever unsee that."
With a quick spin on his heel, he goes to jog upstairs to his room, and smiles when the movement comes naturally to him. The house is slowly changing into a home, all cluttered up with their belongings already, with memories being forged to solidify this home as wholely theirs.
It feels good, like something he’s been missing ever since he left.
Once alone with his thoughts and without distraction, his thoughts, as they always do, shift to Regulus.
Greyish greenish bluish eyes that he could never put into words properly but which still manage to haunt his mind are floating through his head, eyes filled with one millisecond of hurt before he grabbed the stupid bag and walked out of the shop and out of James’s life.
He throws himself onto the mattress and strips till his chest is bare, the heat becoming too much for him.
The thing that really pisses him off though, is that his first and foremost thought when he saw Regulus walk into the shop wasn’t anger or confusion, it was 'Oh, God I’ve missed him.'
Because James hasn’t been back to the house.
Well, strictly speaking he has, but he hasn’t been back back.
He keeps his head down and doesn’t slow, sometimes even speeding up (which his parents haven’t failed to notice unfortunately).
So to be honest, Regulus might have been up in his room anxiously waiting to apologise, waiting for James to sit on the fence and look up towards him.
But, a part of James says snidely, if he really wants to apologise, he can come and find me.
And that more than anything is what shocks him out of his funk.
James Potter, you absolute child.
And with that he pulls his clothes on and leaves.
~~~
There's no one at the window yet.
It's fine, he can wait.
After minutes that seem like eternities and also nanoseconds, the front door opens.
For half a moment he is terrified that it isn't him, but then those eyes meet his and he can breathe again.
Regulus walks slowly down the path towards James, and it seems like every step warrants an internal turmoil. Even as he reaches the gate his eyes are divided, and James is sure a part of him is desperate to turn and run.
Please don't, he wills silently,
Maybe he's a witch, because Regulus inhales sharply and slams the bolt sideways, pushing the gate open.
There is nothing but air between them now, yet it feels like one thousand miles.
James knows this is Regulus's step to take, so he doesn't move or speak, just prays silently.
And he thinks he might've got it right and its exactly what Regulus needed, because suddenly his face is relaxed (though still blank) and his movements are noticeably more fluid as he crosses the width of the path to James, stopping in front of him.
"How do you know?" he asks, and his voice is bitter, "How do you see what I want when you don't even know me?"
James shrugs listlessly because he doesn't have an answer either.
"But that's not fair." Regulus continues almost petulantly, "I work so hard to-" he catches himself and withdraws, stops, notices.
James sees him do it, and Regulus sees him see and his face twists, "There, That! How can you see when I do that, no ones supposed to see."
"See what, Regulus?" asks James, keeping his voice calm and soft.
Regulus's eyes smoulder even as his body stays ramrod straight. "I don't have a word for it. You know what I mean."
"I do." James concedes, still neutral.
Regulus's brow creases. "You're different. You're being different."
James smiles a bit. "Um, I had some time to think. And I think I might have a better understanding now."
"Understanding of what?" asks Regulus through his teeth.
He's a little shocked at that, and runs his hand through his hair awkwardly. "Of you."
Regulus's lips part and the air shifts, and James is momentarily distracted.
"Why?" the word is whispered like a secret. "Why do you care?"
"I-"
"We don't know each other." still in that hushed, bewildered tone.
"No, we don't." James admits, "But it feels like we do, doesn't it? And don't you think that counts for something?"
Regulus closes his eyes briefly, and James almost thinks he's about to shut him out again when his dark eyelashes flutter open and he whispers the most beautiful thing James has ever heard.
"Maybe."
"Okay," James feels tension leave his body and grins, "Okay. Does this mean you can call me James?"
Regulus sniffs. "No."
He rolls his eyes but then stops, and scratches the back of his head. "Actually, Regulus, about all that... I'm sorry. I was a real prat to you in Mar's shop."
When he meets Regulus's gaze, his jaw has dropped, pale face encompassing an expression nothing less than horrified.
"Jesus Christ, Potter. You're apologising to me?"
"Obviously, I was being a di-"
"There has got to be something wrong with you. No one is this... pure a person without a serious downside." he squints at James, trying to pull the 'downside' out of him with his gaze (which would probably work with a gaze that goddam powerful.)
"Got no downside, me." James announces proudly.
Regulus sighs and scrutinises him a while longer, "It's fine, I'm just going wait for you to prove me right." he says finally- quiet, and matter of factly, almost as an afterthought.
"...wait for me to prove you right... and let you down?" James dares to ask.
Regulus shrugs then, a tiny, defeated little shrug.
"I won't." James pushes out through gritted teeth and it occurs to him that he didn't realise how true these words were until he said them, "I won't let you down, Regulus."
"Okay." says the other quietly, disbelievingly, and it's like he's watching the arrogant boy shrink before his eyes.
"Regulus. I mean it. I-" James forgets his place and steps towards him, placing his hand gently on Regulus's chin and tilting his head up so that their eyes meet and he can see the truth in James's.
Regulus's skin is so smooth and pale, like china or marble or some otherworldly thing that James gets to touch, just for a few moments.
He sees the other boys eyes widen almost imperceptibly, shocked.
"See?" murmurs James, "I've surprised you. I can do it again."
And then he gets to witness the single most beautiful moment in the history of his life, because Regulus Black, head pushed up by James's own fingers, presses his mouth together and laughs.
A closed mouth laugh, one that he tries to stop, but that spills out of him like warm honey anyway, into the air all around them.
"James Potter," he says, a smile in his voice, "You are an idiot."