Chapter Text
“I’m not doing it,” James repeats, and Sirius drops his hands like he’s disappointed, which makes exactly no sense.
“He’s my brother!” he exclaims, and James gives him a dead look, Yeah, exactly. Sirius mutters, sulking, “Everyone should want to date my brother.” James’ expression becomes the least complimentary in the history of faces.
“No one wants to date your brother, Pads. No offense, but he is the most introverted, rude, harsh human being on the planet, and getting to know him might require a pickaxe and forty years. Good luck to anyone who tries.”
James takes a bite of his apple, and for a reason he can’t begin to comprehend—just to make sure perhaps, his eyes flicker to the Slytherin table, where Regulus is sat alone, eating an apple with a fork and a knife, like a psychopath. Comforted in his comment, he turns back to Sirius, see what I’m seeing, only to find Sirius slowly standing up, like he might just start fist fighting his best friend here and there.
“Are you…” Sirius squints, “dissing my brother?”
Remus, sitting beside them, sighs, and closes his Potions book.
“This is ridiculous. Padfoot, you can’t bet a brother. James, don’t say mean things about Sirius’ brother.” He tugs on Sirius’ sleeve, and Sirius goes down immediately. “Everyone take a sit, eat your breakfast, and be quiet.”
He has that tone that only Remus can muster, halfway between bored and authoritative. James has always envied it; his quiet detachment, that somehow works a lot better than what James does—which is care too much, concern stuffed between each of his teeth, his own emotions crowding his mouth on every sentence. He can’t do detachment, which might be why he and Sirius tend to be attached at the hip. Less so, now that Remus and Sirius are…figuring it out, but.
But, well.
Sirius has always been really good at receiving James’ love. Is the kind of boy who needs to be loved, while James is the kind of boy who needs to love. The balance has been upset with the recent changes in Sirius and Remus’ relationship though, which might be why James is finding himself spending more time with Peter now. Peter’s lovely, but he’s also—not Sirius. Remus isn’t Sirius, either. The real problem is that no one is Sirius. Which might be why he’s been in a bit of a mood recently. Trying to adjust.
“I just mean,” James tries again, and Sirius lifts his head up from his stack of pumpkin pancakes, looking chided, sheepish, like Remus is somehow keeper of order, and anything coming out of his mouth that isn’t praise is condemnation, “that I don’t think dating your brother is the way to his heart.” He winces once he realizes how that sounds.
Sirius drops his fork. Remus lifts his head to the ceiling and prays.
“Oof,” Peter says from beside him, nudging him with his elbow, “that one hurts even from where I’m sat.”
Sirius doesn’t try to drop him, which James appreciates, though he does point his fork menacingly in James’ direction once he picks it back up. “Three dates is all I’m asking.”
“I just said I’m not doing it.”
“But he’s pretty.”
James waves his fork, “Doesn’t matter.”
“You’ve literally told everyone at Quidditch practice you could date anyone.”
“I was high off a win.” James shrugs, stuffs eggs into his mouth. “Probably true regardless, but that isn’t the point. The point is that you have your scheming face on, and I don’t trust it, nor you , which is why I’m not doing it.”
Sirius looks at James as he chews his eggs, scheming face definitely on, and—
“I’ll do all of your homework. For a full term.”
And that shouldn’t get James’ attention, but it does. He is more than capable of doing his own homework, thank you very much, and Sirius knows this, which means Sirius is acting desperately, which means Sirius has ulterior motives. He turns to Peter, who’s already looking back at him, expression just as surprised as his own.
“You want me to take your brother on three dates, and you’ll do my homework. For the entire term,” he says, disbelievingly, trying to figure out Sirius’ angle. It’s not about the homework, and James is pretty sure it isn’t about the dating, either; which means it’s about the brother. Which means James shouldn’t approach this with a ten foot pole. He should steer clear of whatever this is. Except that, well. James has always liked a good intrigue, and Sirius has just offered him one of a silver plate. Not to mention—the other thing (1).
(1) The other thing is that James has eyes, and had seen Sirius’ eyes cut to the Slytherin table—a lot. Knows it hurts Sirius, not to have his brother close. Knows the Sorting Hat messed up Sirius’ hope to mend whatever he and his brother weren’t able to mend at home. They’ve never discussed it, but James knows Sirius. It’s evident in the look he has, this distance created from a home that didn’t give Sirius love.
There is resentment there, James thinks, something pushing against Sirius’ rib cage and asking to be spoken out loud, though James isn’t the person the something needs to be addressed to.
Sirius and Regulus need to sit down together on the floor of their brotherhood and look at the shattered porcelain, decide which pieces they’re keeping and which pieces are beyond saving. They need to talk about that house, and what goes on in there, and why Sirius left. Why Regulus hasn’t, and what this means for them.
James cannot do this for them, and Regulus isn’t willing to be approached by his brother. It’s a standstill for now but the sand is sinking, and everyone knows what happens when you stay too long in quicksand.
Quicksand is really only good at one thing, and that’s swallowing things.
Sirius’ mouth turns downward, though he sticks to his guns. “That’s what I said.”
“Just so we’re clear,” James says, hunching over the table now, game-focused. “All I have to do is take your brother out. On three dates.”
Sirius nods. “That’s it.”
“Your brother.”
Sirius shifts. “Yes.”
“Your brother,” James repeats, “who you don’t really speak to, ever.”
“Right.”
And ah.
Ah, there is it, hidden behind Sirius’ suddenly guarded face. The reason, tucked carefully behind Sirius’ heartpocket, peeking at James with wide eyes.
Fuck.
James loves Sirius, is the thing. It’s about the brother, and James doesn’t care about Regulus, not really, only insofar as one would care for a best friend’s brother, in passing. Although, perhaps not really in passing, because James has thought about Regulus quite a lot. Mostly in confused anger, the lack of understanding stemming from why would you let your bond with your brother wither like this. So he sits back, shovels the last of his breakfast into his mouth.
“Well, gentlemen, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“You’ll do it?” Sirius says, and the emotions that are seeping from his almost-but-not-quite-carefully-guarded-words are frankly terrifying. Hope being the biggest one of them.
Ugh, what is James doing? He rises from his seat, and doesn’t glance at either Remus nor Peter, because he knows exactly what he’ll see there: disapproval; likely a healthy dose of concern for Sirius, who is hiding behind his bravado, and concern for James, who is about to mingle heavily into affairs that aren’t his own.
He makes his way to the Slytherin table.
Things are going well (2).
(2) That is, Regulus is completely hermetical to any and all requests from James to date, which he was expecting.
They’re walking, through the corridors and going down the stairs; James has no idea where they are headed, only that Regulus took one look at him in the Great Hall, approaching, left his three-quarters of an apple (cut with a fork and a knife) and started booking it down the Hall.
It’s been ten minutes, and James hasn’t been particularly successful.
“Okay, no.”
James struggles to keep up with Regulus’ strides. “Three date, that’s all I’m ask—”
“Potter, I said no.”
James rushes forward and turns around, walking backwards in front of Regulus, hands up to his shoulders, trying to stop Regulus’ almost-but-not-quite running pace. “Come on, Regulus, we can be on a first name basis. We’ve known each other for years,” which is true… technically. They’ve been around one another for years, certainly. Knowing, though, isn’t quite the same.
Regulus is evidently on the same page, if his eye roll is anything to go by.
“We haven’t, and I don’t know you, and please leave me alone.”
James keeps walking backwards. “Where are you going?”
“Wherever you can’t,” Regulus mutters.
“Regulus.”
“James.”
James does reach out, then, and stops Regulus with a hand on his upper arm. “I’ll do whatever,” he says, and well, that’s… that’s probably not healthy, though it does get Regulus’ attention.
They stop in the middle of the corridor, the Slytherin common room in view now.
“Whatever?” Regulus asks, and there is something in his tone, something that does not bode well, and James knows better. He does. But he also thinks about Sirius’ face, and—
“Whatever.”
Regulus rolls his tongue in his mouth, considering James, eyes raking up and down his frame, taking measurements, like one analyzes a cut of meat, which, ouch, and no thank you, really, until Regulus lifts his chin up, and there’s a new, confusing decision in his eyes.
“Fine.”
And James has looked at Regulus before, would be able to describe him like one would describe a friend, Regulus is that tall, lanky guy with the effortless style. Messy hair that he evidently tries to tame, and gray eyes. He has that cool, slightly mysterious aura that clashes with the way he eats his apples, but James realizes now that he has never really looked at Regulus before. He does now, and notices something straight away.
Regulus’ eyes aren’t gray; they’re hurricane-colored. And perhaps one should heed a warning when one sees it (to be fair to James, hurricanes do not get the kind of warnings tornadoes do, and perhaps James would have listened to the outdoor warning sirens, but hurricanes are bigger, slower, and James sees the warning but it’s a hurricane, and he has time to get out still, right? ), but James just thinks, neat, and walks straight past the warning.
James blinks. “Really?”
Regulus rolls his eyes, checks James’ shoulder, and starts walking again towards the common room. “So now that I agree, you’re confused?”
James kickstarts again, following behind. “Nope, I’m there, I’m on board. This is great.”
They walk again quietly for a moment, until there is nowhere left to go but inside, and Regulus looks over his shoulder at James expectantly, I’m not about to speak the password in front of a Gryffindor, who do you take me for?, this isn’t what he says though. What he says, almost patiently, is, “Why are you following me?”
James squints. “Because… you… agreed?”
Regulus whirls around, turning his back to James again, and while their robes are completely useless, there is something to be said about the drama of it all. The fabric rustles around Regulus’ body before settling around him once more. “I’m busy right now,” he speaks to the door.
“Oh,” James says, and he might have been about to say something else, except that Regulus continues.
“Meet me in the Great Hall after dinner, we need to discuss,” and then he’s glaring, and James takes a few steps back. Regulus mutters the password under his breath, the door opens, and he’s gone.
Frowning, James shakes his head and heads back up to stairs, wondering what they could possibly have to discuss. There is nothing to discuss. James is going to date Regulus, and Regulus is going to let him, and James is going to do none of the work, and everything will be wonderful (3).
(3) wonderful |ˈwʌn.dər.fəl|, adjective, from “wonder,” relating to a state of awe or admiration. Here though, the author would like to point out that wonder is delusion. James has stepped foot into brotherhood quicksand, and as the story goes, quicksand is really only good at one thing, and that’s swallowing.
By the time 8:00 p.m. hits, it’s possible that James might have over prepared for this meeting, which he still isn’t sure is fully useful. Why do they need a preemptive meeting? Don’t they just need to… meet up, do the dates, tada ? Granted, James isn’t the best person out there to confer on dating, but it really doesn’t seem like a big deal.
The few dates James has been on, have all been pretty straightforward. A little boring sometimes, perhaps, but that’s just because… well, because getting to know someone is hard. Right? Dating isn’t really all that fun, right? So why do they need to discuss it?
He arrives with three minutes to spare, and pretends to take the time to observe the Great Hall like he doesn’t see it at least three times a day. His hands are clammy. Why are his hands clammy? Does he have time to go to the bathroom and wash them?
“Potter.”
James turns around, and—oh. Okay. Regulus is here, and he has… a full scroll, and is looking very serious, and James isn’t prepared for this meeting at all, is he?
“So,” Regulus begins as they take their seats opposite one another. (James jumps over the table with one hand on the old oak, because he can, and because clearly he needs a lot of pumpkin points if he wants Regulus to stop looking at him like he’s a pebble in his shoe.) (Spoiler alert, it doesn’t work. Regulus lifts an unimpressed eyebrow, and keeps going.)
“I took the liberty of drafting a little something.”
The little something in question isn’t, in fact, little at all. As Regulus reveals the scroll, James lifts an eyebrow. It’s a page, full of bird-like writing.
“You write like a drunk pigeon,” James says, turning the paper to the side and squinting. “Seriously, aren’t noble people supposed to know how to write?”
Regulus steals the scroll back, rolls it, and wacks him on the head with it. “Shut it,” he says, so James drops the subject and eyes the scroll instead.
“What’s this, then? Are we conjuring the devil?”
Regulus kisses his teeth. “I have… rules.”
“No kidding,” he deadpans.
“Can you focus here?” Regulus asks, barks really, and James makes a face. “I need you to sign it,” he says, and pushes the scroll back towards James.
“You…” James starts, and stops as he progressively reads more and more of the scroll, albeit slowly. The writing truly is horrific. “Is this… Regulus, why are you handing me a contract?”
“It’s not a contract, it’s a precaution.”
James lifts the scroll closer to his face, inhaling deeply and scrunching his nose. He drops the scroll back on the table like he’s been burned. “I’m sorry, Regulus, but this thing reeks of magic. I’m not signing it until you tell me what it is.”
“I just told you,” Regulus says, and James hears the little-brother-tone-of-voice. He hears it, the pout and the almost-but-not-quite-there-neediness of it. “It’s a precaution.”
“Okay, but this is a magical bind. So.”
“So,” Regulus agrees, and lifts his hands up in a there-we-go gesture. “You may discuss. What bothers you about it?”
“Besides the fact that I have to sign it at all?”
Regulus nods. “Besides that.”
James drags the scroll close again. “It says here that you get to pick all the dates, and I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“No?”
James peeks at Regulus from over the scroll, eyes shrewd. “I asked you out, it’s only fair that I plan the dates.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he says, and starts to stand up. “It was lovely doing business with you, Pot—”
“Wait.”
James assesses Regulus from over his glasses and over the scroll, squinting. “You’re up to no good. This,” he says, lifting the scroll in the air again, “mentions that I can’t tell anyone about what we get up to during the dates. Are you…” he stops, stares Regulus down, like trying to fit The Idea of Regulus with The Real Regulus sitting calmly opposite him, waiting to sign a paper that might bind him to secrecy. It’s not a Vow, at least.
“Are you going to make us do something illegal?”
Regulus shrugs. “Guess you won’t know until you sign it,” and James sits back down.
Reads over the entire scroll again.
Non-Disclosure Agreement
This Non-Disclosure Agreement ("Agreement") is entered into on this Wednesday of October, 1978, by and between:
Regulus Arcturus Black , residing at 12 Grimmauld Place, London ("First Party"), and James Fleamont Potter, residing at Potter Manor, Godric's Hollow ("Second Party").
WHEREAS, the First Party agrees to engage in a series of social engagements (hereinafter referred to as "Dates") with the Second Party, under the conditions set forth below:
- Dates Agreement:
- The First Party agrees to participate in three (3) Dates with the Second Party.
- The First Party shall have full control and authority over all aspects of planning, scheduling, and activities of the Dates.
- The Second Party agrees to comply with the plans and decisions made by the First Party regarding the Dates.
- Confidentiality:
- The Second Party agrees not to disclose any details pertaining to the Dates, including but not limited to conversations, activities, locations, and any other information, to any third party.
- This confidentiality agreement remains in effect indefinitely, and the Second Party must ensure that all matters related to the Dates remain strictly private.
- Mutual Agreement:
- This Agreement constitutes the entire agreement between the Parties and supersedes any prior agreements or understandings, whether written or oral, relating to the subject matter hereof.
- Any modifications or amendments to this Agreement must be in writing and signed by both Parties.
- Enforcement and Remedies:
- Both Parties acknowledge that any breach of this Agreement by the Second Party may cause irreparable harm to the First Party. As a magical enforcement measure, should the Second Party breach the confidentiality clause, the Second Party's right hand will be magically and automatically severed as a consequence.
- The First Party shall also be entitled to seek any additional remedies available at law or in equity.
IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the Parties hereto have executed this Non-Disclosure Agreement as of the day and year first above written.
James clears his throat. “I can’t help but notice my hand is at stake, here.”
“So it is,” Regulus deadpans, and James opens his mouth. Closes it.
“You want me to magically lose my hand?”
“Only if you speak of this to anyone.”
And the thing is, it’s mad. Madness, and James shouldn’t entertain it, because it’s his hand. If he signs this scroll, and fucks up, his Quidditch career is over.
On the other hand… Regulus is going through a lot of precaution to keep James silent, and the irony isn’t lost on James, that Sirius did the exact same thing to convince James to date Regulus. If the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Sirius and Regulus are two peas in a pod, and that. That means something.
Regulus is hiding something, and has decided that he can use James.
In any other context, he would find this repulsive, and wouldn’t entertain it, because that’s his hand. On the other hand, it’s Sirius’ little brother, who just became a million times more interesting.
If there is something James Potter likes, it’s a secret.
“Say I sign this thing,” James starts, and Regulus’ eyes widen—infinitesimally. “I have a few conditions of my own.”
“Of course you do.”
“I want to plan two of the dates.”
Regulus stands up again. “No can do, but it was a pleasure doi—”
“One.”
Regulus, who is in the process of taking a step backward and over the bench, stops, so James continues, lifting his index finger. “I want to plan one date.”
Regulus rolls his tongue around in his mouth, considering. He’s got his thinking face on. “Fine. One date.”
“Great,” James says, “I was thinking—”
“But not the first. You can plan the last.”
“Fine. I also need proof, after each date.”
“No.”
James shakes his head. “Regulus. I need to be able to prove to Sirius that I have gone on a date with you. Even if I don’t say what it was.”
Regulus eyes him. Capitulates, the fight evidently not interesting enough to hold. “Fine.”
And maybe James should be suspicious, but he’s about to learn at least two secrets from the iceberg boy, and that’s very exciting news.
“Hand me that scroll.”
Regulus does, and James scratches the three, replaces it with a two, and after a quick look up to make sure Regulus is on board, James signs his right hand away.
Well, that certainly is a way to start the year.