Chapter 1: James Smiles Like A Crescent Moon
Chapter Text
Regulus Black - Hogwarts University, Sophomore Year (Fall)
James Potter looks how he always looked. Golden. His very presence warms up a room, like sunlight slipping in through cracks in the blinds. He carries his shoulders the same way, a balanced posture that comes from all his years of sports training, and the secret semester of ballet he took freshman year of high school. He’s got the same kind eyes, ones that don’t shy away from looking where they please, which in Regulus’ experience seems to be right at him. He remembers that from back then, the way James would instinctively look at him whenever someone said anything funny, like the two of them understood the joke in a way that was different from everyone else. He still doesn’t understand why he looked at him instead of Sirius, with the way they always seemed to be two halves of one whole. James’ smile seems to be the one difference. When he was fifteen, he never smiled with his teeth, always pressing his lips together in a way that looked like he was holding in a laugh. Now, he smiles with his whole face, his teeth somehow both endearing and startling, his lack of braces making him even more charming. His teeth aren’t straight, but they’re perfect for his face.
James smiles like that now, like a crescent moon, and Regulus considers the possibility that it’s not because he saw him, but because one of his friends is behind him, just off his left shoulder. It wouldn’t be the first time he thought someone was waving at him only to be humiliated and left hanging, so he says still, not letting it show that he sees him. He wonders if it’s naive to think he wouldn’t recognize him. He feels so different now to when he knew him.
James slides up next to him. “Do my eyes deceive me, or is it little Reggie Black?’
Regulus flinches at the nickname. He forgot he used to call him that. “Hi, yeah.” He slides the book he was fake examining off the shelf, clutching it to give his hands something to do. “James.”
“This is so crazy, Sirius was just texting me about you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Regulus cringes inside. There’s no way James doesn’t report this entire interaction right back to his brother.
“Says you haven’t seen each other yet.” James explains. “Have you been avoiding him?”
“Straight to the point, huh?” Regulus scoffs, doing his best to feign annoyance when he actually just wants to melt into the ground. “Not even gonna fake the small talk?” How long would it take for someone to clean up the puddle his body becomes?
“Ok, fine.” James smirks, unbothered. “So, napkin folding?”
“What?”
“Your book.” James motions to his decoy book.
Regulus pulls the book away from his chest, studying the cover. The Art Of Napkin Folding: Etiquette from the Civil War Era.
James raises his eyebrows in a mocking gesture, ecstatic at catching him in a lie.
“Yes, actually.” Regulus decides to commit to the bit, because it feels worse to admit that he just grabbed a random book as a cover for spying on him. “I’m writing a paper.”
“About napkins?”
“About customs in the civil war era, obviously.” Regulus snaps, adding fuel to his fire of lies. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. It’s for my English class.”
James just laughs. “And here I thought you were looking for a new hobby. Something to decorate your table for your American Girl doll tea parties.”
Regulus feels his face get hot at that, because of course James remembers that he still played with dolls until he was thirteen. “James.” He says, in lieu of goodbye, shooting him a mock salute then cringing at himself when he turns around, forced to now check out a book about napkins to save face.
“Hold up!” James trails after him.
“I really don’t want to talk about my brother right now.” Regulus sets the napkin book down at his table, moving to pack up the rest of the things he left spread out. Study notes, flashcards, his laptop.
“We’ll work up to it.” James shrugs, pulling each item out of his bag after he puts it away, trapping them in a cycle. “Come on, fake small talk goes both ways. It’s incredibly fake-rude to not ask me anything back.”
“You didn’t even ask me anything.”
“I asked about your napkins.” James corrects. “Go on, I know you can at least be fake-polite. I’ve seen you have dinner with your parents.”
Regulus is caught off guard by the mention of his parents, forgetting that James knows them. Well, knows as much as one can through a handful of meals with the Black family, Christmases or Thanksgivings Sirius saw fit to drag him to. Or maybe that’s why he thinks he knows them, stories from Sirius over the years, no doubt painting himself as the victim, their parents the slashers. Although, it’s possible that James has gotten to know them more over recent years. After Regulus went to live with Uncle Alphard.
He decides to let the comment go, because answering it could circle the conversation back to his brother, and that feels like rising to his bait. “What are you doing in the library?”
James blinks, clearly surprised he didn’t fall into his trap. It’s clear he’s not fourteen anymore. Regulus takes his moment of pause to stuff his items into his bag, closing the zipper before James has time to pull anything out again.
“I’m a TA for Professor Bauer, in the English department.” James says, following Regulus through the stacks as he heads for the exit. “He needed a few books for the next lecture, and I missed the first week of his class, so I volunteered to pick them up to kiss ass a little.”
“Wait, you’re a TA for Bauer?”
“Yeah, why?”
“No reason.” It’s another lie, one that he considers could bite him in the ass later if he’s the TA for Regulus’ class, but Bauer has at least four sections, so the odds are in his favor by seventy-five percent. He’ll take those odds.
“Sure, alright.” James says, his skepticism clear in the creases on his forehead.
Regulus decides to misdirect the conversation, painting it as criticism of his personality. “I guess I’m just surprised they let you be a TA. Thought you had to have a high GPA to do that.”
“Ouch.” James clutches his chest, nursing a non-existent wound. “I’ve changed a lot since high school, Reggie.”
“Sure, alright.” He uses his words back at him.
“I have! I now have the standings to assist in creative writing and english.” James explains, leaning against a bookshelf, but standing straight again when it wobbles, ruining his attempt at causal swagger. “I used to be a tutor in the writing center, but Morris, the head of the department, thought for junior year I’d be a better asset in the classroom.”
Regulus fiddles with the book in his hands. “You’re buddies with the head of the English department?”
“Well, yeah.” James says, dropping his gaze to Regulus’ fingers as they flip through the pages of the napkin book. “It’s helpful to make relationships with faculty that can help you. One day, I want it to be me that’s teaching Shakespeare and all the other classics that are the stereotypes of my people.”
Regulus joins the line of students waiting to check out their books. “Your people?”
James steps into line with him and smiles, crescent moon waxing again. “English lit majors.”
“I thought you were majoring in sports management.” Regulus says, remembering his social media post after high school graduation. Regulus wasn’t there, but he saw the staple college announcement, a picture of him wearing a Hogwarts University sweatshirt and detailing his major and academic plans. Sirius had been tagged, the two of them deciding to extend their notorious high school duoship into a college one. They roomed together as freshmen in the dorms and got an apartment with another friend the year after. They’re still there now.
“Like I said, I’ve changed a lot since high school.” James shrugs. “You have too.”
“You didn’t really know me in high school.” Regulus argues. They were only in each other’s orbit during his freshman year, and like two weeks of sophomore year before Regulus left, and they only ever saw each other because of Sirius, anyway.
“I think I did.” James challenges, and that statement alone is enough to make Regulus feel fourteen years old again. He’s curled up on the porch swing, his sweatshirt pulled over his knees as he tries to even out his breathing. His parents are out of town for the weekend, and Sirius snuck his friends into the house for a sleepover. It was bad then, and Regulus still hadn’t told anyone, his strategy being to remove himself from a space to spiral on his own, returning when he could pull off his charade of normalcy. No one had noticed before, let alone followed him outside. Not until James Potter pulled open the sliding door. He didn’t even mention the tear tracks on Regulus’ face or the stuttering breaths he was forcing out. He grabbed the arm of the porch swing, stopping its nauseating movement, and started talking complete nonsense. Party gossip and high school sports statistics. It was so unexpected that Regulus was shocked back to neutral.
James never brought it up again, but Regulus noticed that he seemed to watch him more often after that, and he also cut Sirius off every time he made fun of him, even when it was normal sibling rivalry. Instead of tag-teaming with his best friend to poke fun at his younger brother, James became somewhat of a peacemaker between the pair of Black siblings.
“Well, no one else did.” Regulus decides, remembering how much of himself he kept hidden back then.
“He did.” James says, and he doesn’t have to specify for Regulus to connect the dots. “And yeah, maybe he doesn’t anymore, but he really wants to. He misses you, Reggie, and I think you miss him too. Why else did you transfer?”
That’s enough to make him bolt. If it’s fight or flight, Regulus has always preferred the flight option, so his body acts before his mind can catch up, ejecting himself from an uncomfortable situation as fast as possible. He bursts out the double doors to the library and flies down the cobblestones, glad that James doesn’t seem to be interested in trailing after him. Regulus makes it halfway to his dorm when he realizes that he walked out of the library without checking out his stupid decoy napkin book. He’s a book thief for a book he didn’t even want in the first place.
Chapter 2: Regulus Gets Out Of Breath At The Most Random Of Moments
Notes:
CW - Reg experiences a panic attack in this chapter. It's not called that, but that's what it is. Also there is underage drinking.
Enjoy high school freshman Reg. (He needs a hug)
Chapter Text
Regulus Black - High School, Freshman Year (Fall)
“Stop worrying!” Barty swings an arm over his shoulder, and the weight of it grounds him. “Mulciber said he’s nicked the good stuff from his parent’s garage.”
‘The Good Stuff’ means Mulciber’s mother’s sherry, and perhaps some warm cans of beer. One time there was half a bottle of flavoured vodka, something Mulciber’s brother had hidden under his bed. He’s a few years older than them, and his fake ID is foolproof, or so Regulus has heard. Last time, the raspberry vodka had been passed around, all the boys taking a pull before handing it to the next person. Regulus had covered the mouth of it with his thumb before faking a wince to make it believable. He was more afraid of all the mouths that had touched the bottle than he was of its contents, and turns out he’s pretty good at acting intoxicated. He had to have picked up something from observing his father, right?
“My brother already snuck out earlier.” Regulus sighs. “If both of us are gone it’s more suspicious.”
“You left the tv on right?” Barty asks, forever his guide on the art of fooling parents. “Door cracked, not closed?”
Regulus just nods, swallowing against the dryness in his throat. He should’ve brought his water bottle, but last time he had set it down and couldn’t drink from it for fear someone had spiked it with something.
“Then it’s fine. Great, even.” Barty corrects. “Can’t let your older brother have all the fun while you cover for him, like you always do.”
They’ve reached the end of suburbia, the road that transitions from cookie cutter homes to farmland. Acres and acres of corn, way past knee high, making it a perfect spot to cover where Barty and Regulus hide their bicycles. They unearth the bikes now, climbing on to pedal the rest of the way. Regulus is faster than Barty, but he slows down enough that he falls behind his friend, not wanting to be the first face the others see when they arrive.
It takes them just over ten minutes of solid biking to get to their destination, a section of land owned by the Lestranges that has become a hub for students at the local high school to drink and smoke at. It’s at the edge of a creek, a rotted covered bridge stretching across the water, chipped red paint and layers of graffiti and signatures. ‘Blah blah was here’ and initials surrounded by hearts and the occasional insult, illustrations and spray paint emblems peppered in amongst the sharpie scrawls.
Regulus thinks it looks like the Holliwell bridge of Madison County, which is only thirty miles away or so and used to be a hot spot for tourists, especially after that film with Meryl Streep. It’s not so popular anymore though, because who wants to drive over half an hour from Des Moines just to look at a bridge? Regulus did once, but that wasn’t his idea anyways, and if the plan is just to look at it, this one is just as good. It’s easy to pretend Meryl filmed here instead.
Most people hang out under the bridge, since the wood has deteriorated to the point where putting weight on it is questionable, and some of the floorboards are missing. Otherwise, they’re bunched in the beds of trucks that pull up to the water’s edge. Some of the more attention grabbing couples stumble their way into the corn stalks a few feet away to makeout or hookup. Regulus and Barty park their bikes near all the others left from students that don’t have their license or the money for a car, and Barty wastes no time in staggering down the slope to insert himself into the fray. Regulus trails behind, crossing his arms over his chest to block the early autumn chill. It’s not even Halloween yet, but it feels like November.
“Crouch!” Mulciber greets Barty, the two of them embracing in a cross between a handshake and a hug, a male greeting Regulus has never quite mastered, so he shoves his hands in his pockets and hits the group with the also acceptable ‘sup nod.
The other boys nod in return, and one of them thrusts a bottle at Regulus, tall and unlabeled, made from green glass. That means it’s something homemade, most certainly strong, and probably unsafe. Regulus turns away from the group to do his thumb trick, not letting the liquid get past his lips. He’s looking over his shoulder when he spots Sirius and James, the two of them leaning against the base of the bridge with a handheld lamp. James smiles at something Sirius says, his lips pursing as he tries to hold in a laugh.
“Save some for the rest of us, would ya, Black.” One of the guys heckles, drawing Regulus back into the circle.
“Sorry, guys.” He fakes a grin, passing the bottle.
The next hour or so goes like that: people thrusting drinks into his hand that he pretends to be sipping while he sneaks glances at his brother. Someone hands him a cigarette, and he gets away with letting it burn to the tip of his fingers, never once inhaling. It’s much easier to fake being cool when everyone around you is sloshed out of their minds. Barty’s words are slurring as he spills the details from the girl he hooked up with at the last one of these things. Everyone is laughing, and joking, and then someone brings up Halloween plans, and Regulus should be having a good time, but he isn’t. He hasn’t drunk a thing, yet his head feels foggy, and for his lack of smoking, his lungs still contract every time he takes a breath. He’s had this before, and thought maybe he was asthmatic, but it’s not consistent. It doesn’t flare when he runs or climbs stairs. Regulus gets out of breath at the most random of moments.
He thought looking at Sirius would help, but each time he spots his brother he’s smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Regulus can’t help but wonder why Sirius didn’t invite him out tonight. He never did last year either, but he said it was because Regulus wasn’t in high school yet, and he couldn’t very well bring a middle schooler to the creek. Regulus is a freshman now, though, so that logic has been debunked.
The guys around him have started a drinking game.
“Can I bum another?” Regulus asks the one with the pack of marlboros, taking it between his fingers before turning away from the group with the ruse of a personal smoke break. It’s a tactic he’s seen other guys use to pick up girls, walking around with an unlit cigarette and asking around for a lighter until a pretty blonde pulls one out of her purse or, even worse, her bra.
Regulus just waits until no one is looking to sneak up the sloped earth to the top of the covered bridge. The wood is falling apart, but if he sticks to the edges he can make it halfway across, so he does, balancing on the balls of his feet. He stares at the cigarette in his hands, willing his breathing to even out. His brain is too loud, too obvious in its perception of his existence. It’s like normally, Regulus feels his consciousness humming in the background, but now he feels everything. His clothes clinging to his body, his hair grazing the back of neck, his sock twisted in his shoe.
“Since when do you smoke?” A voice breaks through just enough for Regulus to look up, James Potter standing at the far end of the bridge.
Regulus can’t say anything. The words won’t come out, which he realizes is not ideal at this moment, but when he tries to speak it comes out as a stuttering breath.
James takes a step forward, not bothering to stick to the edges like Regulus did. “I didn’t know you were coming. No one said.” He knows James means Sirius never said, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“I wasn’t invited by anyone who talks to you.” Regulus manages. He can speak between the lines too.
James laughs, continuing his slow steps towards Regulus. He’s moving carefully, like he’s approaching a beast or a sleeping baby. Regulus doesn’t know which would be worse, though he supposes his brother saw him stalking off and sent James to babysit him, so maybe that’s the more accurate comparison. He’s always been the baby of the family. The honorary little brother to anyone Sirius associates with, pestering them and following them around. Annoying.
“How’s your night going?” Regulus asks, settling on small-talk, because if he opens the floodgates now, the talk would be way too big for who he’s addressing. He’s always been good at playing normal. Even when he’s feeling stuck in his head, he can be normal on the outside. Why can’t he be normal on the inside too?
“Alright.” James shrugs, and his foot breaks through some dead wood, making Regulus suck in a breath. James just kicks the piece through, generating another hole in the bridge, before stepping over it to carry on. “I think it’s a bit cold out, but I’m procrastinating homework, so.”
“Right. Bet it’s due Monday.” Regulus guesses, twiddling the unlit cigarette between his fingers.
“Last Monday, actually.” James says.
“I should’ve guessed.” Regulus says, and maybe he is good at faking normalcy, because his stomach is churning now and James hasn’t noticed.
“And I’m guessing you’ve already completed all your assignments.” James teases, and when another floorboard breaks from under him he stumbles this time, his foot going through.
“James!” Regulus shouts, reaching out to grab him on instinct, then wincing when he realizes the wail he just let out. He recoils, backing himself against the wall of the bridge, James pulling his foot free and tilting his head at Regulus.
The cigarette falls through a hole in the bridge. He’s crying now, fuck. Salty beads of water drip down Regulus’ face, pooling in the creases of his expression. Regulus wipes his face furiously, but the tears aren’t the silent kind he can blame on allergies or wind or an eyelash in his eye, they’re the kind that make it impossible to breathe evenly.
“Reggie?” James looks lost. “Reg, what can I do?”
His inhales become hiccups, and Regulus wants to melt out of embarrassment.
“I remembered when you- at the party- so I thought you might-” James thinks, searching for his choice of words, chewing on them carefully before saying, “I thought you might be gone, when I followed you up here, but I didn’t know it was, like-”
“Sorry.” Regulus interrupts him, not ready for pity. “Sorry, it’s fine.”
“You’re not fine.” James says, his face morphing into a sheepish smile at his brazen assessment.
“I didn’t say I was fine.” Regulus argues through the snot starting its way down his face, mixing with the water from the tears that still haven’t stopped. “I said it was fine, or it will be. It’ll go away.”
James huffs, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Ok, so what do you want?”
“What?”
“What do your friends do? When this happens?” James asks, reaching out a hand, but waiting until Regulus nods to place it on his shoulder. The pads of his fingers are cold, like he said, even through Regulus’ shirt.
“No one ever does anything.” Regulus admits. “No one ever notices.”
“Not even-” Again, James skips over his brother’s name.
Regulus just shakes his head.
“Oh, alright.” James says, brushing past it, his hand still a steady pressure on Regulus’ shoulder. “What do you want me to do, then? Now or next time?”
“I’m sorry.” Regulus chokes out.
“Hey, it’s ok.” James guides them so they’re both sitting, leaning against the questionable structure of the bridge.
“It helped last time, you just talking.” Regulus admits, remembering that he’s now embarrassed himself like this in front of James twice, at two different parties. “You being normal. Just be normal, please?” Let me pretend to be normal, too. “Talk to me about the homework you’re supposed to be doing.”
“Alright.” James agrees, resting a hand atop Regulus’ bended knee.
The next morning Sirius gets in trouble for sneaking out. Regulus doesn’t.
Chapter 3: Fuck You And Fuck Your Matcha!
Notes:
This one is pure self-indulgent silliness. Somehow also making this a coffee shop AU because this is my idea dump fic.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Regulus Black - Hogwarts University, Sophomore Year (Fall)
Regulus comes to study at the same coffee shop every other day, Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’s right near the building for his business class, and he has yet to run into his brother here, so it’s become a safe space for him on campus. There are little cafe tables and overflowing bookshelves and big broad windows, one of which has a coveted seat built in. Regulus sits at the high top counter, perched there with an iced chai, and a perfect view of the three baristas steaming milk and taking inventory of the several types of artisan coffee beans they stock. They’ve become staple characters in his life, featured extras that have his order memorized, but don’t know his name. There’s the blonde girl with her chipped nail polish and kool-aid dipped bangs, always one exuberant order away from quitting– she threatens it several times a shift. There’s the gangly freckled guy that gets to sit down while he takes orders, likely the one that keeps it all together– he’s always pulled when blondie messes up an order or that one time she started a fire in the little oven that warms up pastries. The end of the coffee trio is a stern looking girl with a septum piercing and goddess braids that drip down the length of her back. She’s a bit mean, but always has Regulus’ muffin on a plate before he even walks up to the register.
Coming to the shop is half to get work done, typing away at his computer while he talks on the phone, and half to people-watch his pseudo barista friends. Well, not really friends , but at least he knows they’ll always be there. Maybe Regulus should be sad that he hasn’t made any friends on campus, but he just hasn’t had the energy to meet anyone new. It’s easier to fall into the safety net of old friends, sending voice messages back and forth and calling each other whenever time zones connect. He’s used to being long distance with Barty, they’ve managed that since Regulus moved to London to live with Uncle Alphard when he was fifteen, but Evan and him are new to it.
Regulus gets out of class at noon, which is five o’clock in London, so Evan calls him while he walks home from his internship, even though he could take the tube. Evan chatters away, dissecting the cubicle dynamics of the newspaper publication he’s working for. He knows all the ins and outs because he works in the mailroom, flitting around the office to deliver letters and packages, making him everyone’s favorite no consequences confidante.
“-and Rita thinks she’s getting the interview, but Tom’s already had it! Last week!” Evan sounds giddy, projecting his voice over the sounds of London’s busy streets, where Regulus and Evan first became friends. They met working on the school newspaper, Evan climbing his way to editor while Regulus did photography for the visual segments. They bonded during early morning rugby matches, forced to give the jocks an even bigger ego by featuring their wins in articles. Neither of the boys were particularly suited to athletics, Regulus with his boney elbows and Evan with his noodle arms, already over six feet at age sixteen— his sleeves too short and his shoes too big. Evan’s grown into his height as of now, his shoulders broader and his hair sheared into a bleach blonde buzz cut. His too-large shoes are designer, and his sleeves are tailored, and if Regulus hadn’t latched onto him at age fifteen, he’s sure Evan wouldn’t give him the time of day now.
Regulus owes a lot to Evan. He would not have been able to navigate moving across the world and assimilating without him, not to mention juggling doctors appointments and the added oddity that was living with an uncle he’d only met a handful of times. Evan didn’t treat him like the other blokes at school, teaching him all the British slang and cultural norms instead of making fun of his middle-American background. He supported him when Sirius stopped calling, or worse when he started again but they had nothing to talk about. They went to Uni together freshman year before Evan dropped out and Regulus transferred.
Evan continues, “Normally, I’d be happy for anyone knocking Skeeter down a few pegs, but Tom’s such a jammy bastard for sneaking around like that. Did I tell you Igor helped him intercept Rita’s emails so she wouldn’t get the scoop?”
“You didn’t.” Regulus laughs, adjusting his headphones to better hear his friend. “Sounds like something he’d do. Tom seems like such a snake.”
“Oh, he is.” Evan agrees. “You’d either hate him or be his best mate. Could go either way, I think.”
“I’d probably just use him until he couldn’t get me further.” Regulus shrugs, watching Blondie pluck ice cubes out of a shaken matcha latte.
“How’s Uni going?” Evan asks, which Regulus knows is code for have you talked to Sirius yet?
“Classes are keeping me busy.” Regulus says, instead of I haven’t even seen him in passing .
Evan knows when not to push, so he lets it go. “How’d you do on that paper? That one about the napkins?”
Regulus feels himself flush out of embarrassment. Turns out the odds were not in his favor, and the twenty-five percent won out, making James Potter the TA for Regulus’ section of Professor Bauer’s class. Of course, this meant Regulus either had to admit to James that he was lying when they ran into each other at the library, or commit to the bit and write a paper about napkin folding. Regulus Black is a stubborn son of a bitch, but the paper got an A, and getting to spite James was an added bonus. He tells Evan so, pulling out an earbud when his friend laughs too loud.
The blonde barista drops a handful of matcha soaked ice cubes on the floor. “I’m serious this time, Remus!”
Evan pauses his laughter, “Ooo is that-”
“Blondie barista, threatening to quit again.” Regulus confirms.
“I cannot sift out ice cubes one more time or I will die.” Blondie wipes her hands on a dish rag. “If you order something iced it means ice! No more of this iced, but no cubes bullshit.”
The lanky one, Remus, glances back at her from his stool behind the register. “Just finish the matcha.”
“We’ve got like two more on deck.” Braids adds, not reading the room.
Blondie sticks her hand into the matcha, pulling out a fistfull of cubes and tossing them into the sink. “Fuck you and fuck your matcha!” She hands the drink to the customer, flicking him with the green liquid still on her hand.
“Marlene!” Braids lets her jaw drop open. “Sorry, sir. I’ll remake that.” She reclaims the finger dipped matcha from the customer who’s standing there dazed and frozen in shock.
Blondie, or Marlene, unties her apron, tossing it onto the bartop.
“Marlene, come on.” Remus calls after her. She’s clearly never taken her dramatics this far before.
“What’s going on?” Evan presses, invested in the scene even though he’s all the way across the pond.
“I think Blondie’s really quitting.” Regulus whispers, watching in awe as Marlene steps out from behind the counter. He’s never seen her lower half before, black trousers and bovver boots with purple laces.
“I’m out of here.” Marlene promises. “Take me off the payroll.” With a flourishing bow, she exits the building, the bell over the door ringing as it swings shut.
There’s a few moments of silence before Remus lets out a grunt of distress, standing from his stool and away from the register. “Shit, Dorcas.”
“I know.” Braids, Dorcas, matches his frustration, rubbing her hands into her eye sockets.
“Think you can manage?”
“No way.” Dorcas gestures to the herd of people waiting to order. “I just finished training last week. I can barely steam milk, that’s why Marlene leaves me on tea and inventory!”
“What about cash?” Remus hums, negating his own suggestion. “You were gonna start that next week, huh?”
Dorcas nods.
“Now, what?” Remus asks, wringing his hands in a clear show of anxiety.
“Think anyone out there is randomly barista trained?” Dorcas jokes, looking out at the various patrons.
“Evan, I’ve got to go.” Regulus hangs up the phone without waiting for a reply, stumbling to stand, causing the stool he was on to wobble a bit as he approaches the two baristas, leaning over the counter. “I’m a barista.”
That’s how Regulus makes his first friends on campus. Turns out saving two overwhelmed baristas from a horde of caffeine-starved students is quite the bonding experience. When they confirm that Marlene really did quit, Regulus gets hired on the spot.
Notes:
Sprinkles of plot! What do we think? Is this format working? It's rather fun for me.
Chapter 4: It’s Not A Pity Invite
Notes:
This fic is really fun for me to write because there are no rules (unlike my other ones (and yes, I gave myself the rules on the others, but still))
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Regulus Black - Middle School, Eighth Grade (Winter Break)
Regulus has commandeered the living room, something his parents would never allow, but they’re at some fancy party at a resort for Dad’s work, so what they don’t know won’t hurt them. He’s gathered all of the blankets in the house, warmed up mugs of hot chocolate, and queued up each and every Christmas and New Years episode of Friends , as is the Black brothers’ tradition. Thanksgiving saw them watching the turkey day episodes whilst hiding in Sirius’ bathroom, the two of them squished together in the dry bathtub they had filled with pillows. Regulus had joked that the day should be titled: The One Where Mom Finally Loses It after she had caught them hiding from company during dessert. Sirius had said it should be: The One With the Burnt Pies after their cousin Narcissa had failed at three separate attempts at the dessert. The One Where Uncle Cygnus Is a Drunkard – he spilled wine all over Walburga’s new table cloth. The One With the Passive-Aggressive Toast – Orion had said he was thankful for a wife that could cook, causing Narcissa to burst into tears over her charcoaled pies. The One With the Uninvited Uncle – no one even mentioned Uncle Alphard.
They had done the Extended Family Dinner thing on both Thanksgiving and Christmas, but the Black family has never put much emphasis on New Year’s Eve. No one does, really, but it’s Regulus’ favorite holiday. He loves the ritual of it, the meaning humans can create from an arbitrary number of days on a calendar. Celebrating another three-hundred-sixty-five days for no other reason than to pat themselves on the back. Another year survived .
What Regulus loves most about New Year’s Eve is creating resolutions. Each year, he picks a mantra, something to focus on and mold his year after. He chooses something about himself, or his outlook, to change. Well, maybe not change, that feels negative. What he means is, he picks something in him to grow. Adjust. Shape. He hasn’t selected this next year’s resolution, but it’ll come to him before the clock hits twelve, he’s certain.
“Sirius!” Regulus shouts, shifting around on the couch in search of the comfiest spot. “Sirius, it’s ready!”
No answer.
Regulus takes a sip of his hot chocolate, wiping the foam from his lip. “Sirius!” louder this time.
Still no response, which means he’s in his room upstairs. Regulus sets down his mug and peels himself out of his blanket, thumping up the stairs since Mom isn’t home to yell at him for it. He can hear music coming from Sirius’ room, loud enough to seep through the closed door that Regulus opens without knocking. Sirius is wearing a red sweater, standing in front of his mirror while brushing his hair. It’s to his shoulders now, and Regulus has heard Mom ask him to cut it several times already, growing agitated each time Sirius refuses. She made him pull it into a ponytail for Christmas, and Regulus almost toppled over with laughter when Sirius compared himself to the portrait of some founding father on the wall by the staircase. Mom is obsessed with that lineage stuff, ecstatic when she got herself an important position at the DAR, or the Daughters of the American Revolution. Regulus doesn’t understand it much, just knows that Mom hosts weekly tea for the other ladies at their house, and attends galas and other events they host. Dad says it makes her feel important, and that women need a sense of purpose beyond their children, even if it’s frivolous tea parties and auctioning collectable hat boxes.
“Sirius.” Regulus says, walking over to turn down the speaker.
“Hey.” Sirius sets down his comb, picking up a bottle of cologne and spraying himself one time too many.
Regulus wrinkles his nose. He has the same bottle of Dior Savauge, twin gifts from their cousin Bellatrix, but he’ll give his to Sirius once he’s used his all up. He’s not about to match signature scents with his brother.
“Come on, I made hot chocolate and it’s getting cold.” Regulus says, crossing his arms.
“Awe, thanks.” Sirius smiles at him through the mirror, his eyes creasing at the corners. “Not sure I’ll have time, James’ll be here soon.”
That makes Regulus pause. He didn’t know Sirius had invited anyone, and even if he’s a bit put out at adding someone to their brotherly time, it’s just James after all. If Regulus tries hard enough, he can ignore he’s there.
“I can make him some, too.” Regulus decides, turning around to head to the kitchen.
“Regulus, we won’t have time to drink it before we leave.” Sirius explains. “The idea was nice, though.”
“Where are you going?” Regulus blurts, whipping around in the doorway.
“Party.” Sirius shrugs, unaware that he’s just shattered what Regulus thought was a tradition.
“Party?” Regulus feels sick.
“It’s New Year’s Eve.” Sirius says, as if that explains anything. As if he’s gone to a party every year, and this is just routine at this point, and Regulus should’ve expected this.
“When were you gonna tell me this? We had plans.”
Sirius laughs, a casual sound. Almost a scoff, but not unkind. “Sitting at home on the couch isn’t plans, Regulus.”
“It is to me.” Regulus counters. “Sirius, it’s our-”
The sound of a text cuts him off, and Sirius holds up a finger, as if to pause his brother, while he reads the message. “James is outside.” He pulls his coat on, this battered leather thing he’s been wearing since starting high school this fall.
“You can’t be-” Regulus stops himself, rephrasing. “You can’t be for real.”
“I’m always Sirius.” his brother winks, even though Regulus corrected himself. Sirius brushes past him, heading down the stairs.
“You’re really gonna go to this party, without me?” Regulus calls, trailing behind.
“Oh.” Sirius pauses his descent, standing to face Regulus who’s two stairs above him still. “Well, if you really wanna come, then come.”
“I can’t believe you.” Regulus huffs, less sick and more pissed off.
“What?” Sirius reaches the foyer, slipping his shoes on over his socked feet.
Regulus lingers on the bottom stair. “Do you want me to come?”
Sirius sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I just said, if you want to come then it’s fine.”
“That’s not what I asked. Do you want-”
“Regulus, if you’re going to come then get your coat and stop throwing a fit, but we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.” It’s not a pity invite, not really, because it’s not an invite at all. Is Sirius oblivious, or just being mean?
“Have fun.” Regulus says.
“All that and now you aren’t coming?” Sirius asks.
“Not if you don’t want me there!” Regulus shouts, his resolve splintering.
“I never said that.” Sirius argues, looking down at his phone when another text comes through. He types a reply.
Regulus is fuming. “You didn’t have to say anything, it’s clear you don’t want me there.”
“Ok, I want you there.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “Happy? Let’s go, come on.” He opens the front door, and Regulus can see headlights, James sitting in the passenger seat and someone indistinguishable in the driver’s seat.
“See you next year, Sirius.” Regulus says, remaining indoors as he watches his brother step onto the porch.
“You’re so dramatic.” Sirius laughs at him again. “It’s all my friends anyways, wouldn’t you feel awkward since we’re all so close and you don’t know anyone?”
Regulus doesn’t bother saying I don’t know anyone because you’ve never introduced us , instead settling on, “I’m sure you’re right. Have fun.”
Sirius gives him a quick, one armed hug before flouncing down the porch steps to the car waiting for him.
James rolls down the window, waving an arm at who Regulus assumes is Sirius until his brother closes the car door and James is still waving.
Regulus waves back, embarrassment warming his cheeks against the draft from the open door.
“Happy new year!” James shouts, continuing his wave until the car speeds off.
Regulus closes the door, settles on the couch, and downs his glass of now cold chocolate. He picks up the mug he prepared for Sirius, taking it to the kitchen to reheat it in the microwave. When a sip of rewarmed coco passes his lips his resolution, what he’d like to change about himself, hits him. This year, he’s going to need Sirius less.
Notes:
If you've ever had a fight with a sibling you know exactly how the Black brothers feel. My heart squeezes for them.
Honorable mention to James waving from the car ;)
Also, the Black brother loving Friends just makes sense to me.
Walburga in the DAR! Come on! Of course-- Emily Gilmore energy for sure.
Chapter 5: An Accidental Olive Branch
Notes:
This one was kinda nerve wracking to write, but I think I got it right.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Regulus Black - Hogwarts University, Sophomore Year (Fall)
He likes steaming milk, and making cold foam, and pulling espresso shots. He likes looking at a drink ticket and picturing what the customer might look like based on their order, granting himself the results when he shouts out the order and passes over their drink. Oat milk latte, means a beanie and a tote bag, usually covered in propaganda pins, a combination that says I care about the environment, but not enough to stop consuming single use plastics . Matcha latte, means a lulu lemon set, sleek hair pulled back into a ponytail– they want to look like they just came from, or are heading to, the gym. Mocha, means the person doesn’t like coffee, but likes chocolate, probably wannabe kindergarten teachers with colorful socks and those glasses that hang on beaded necklace chains. Cappuccino with coconut milk, an odd combination that can only mean-
“Sirius.” Regulus hands the drink over the counter into the waiting hands of his brother.
“Hey.” Sirius accepts the drink, and Regulus’ hand lingers a bit too long before he releases the cup.
“I’ve been meaning to see you I jus-”
“Hey, it’s ok.” Sirius smiles. “Do you have a break soon?”
Regulus bites his lower lip, checking his watch. “Not for another forty-five minutes.”
“That’s ok. That’s good.” Sirius decides. “I’m gonna sit over there,” He points to the window seat, miraculously vacant. “and if you want to join me when you’re on break you can. You don’t have to, but I want you to.”
Regulus nods, watching as Sirius sits in the window seat as promised, pulling a laptop out of his bag and shoving wired headphones over his ears.
“Who was that?” Dorcas leans into Regulus, whispering like they’ve got a shared secret.
“My brother.” Regulus responds, picking up another drink ticket, going through the motions of making a London fog.
“No shit?” Dorcas breathes out a laugh, wiping down the counter. They still don’t trust her on hot drinks yet, but she can put together a mean cold brew.
“No shit.” Regulus confirms.
The two of them work in tandem for the next forty-five minutes, not saying much beyond drink details. Regulus likes that about Dorcas, that they can get along by just existing next to each other. Him and Sirius used to be like that as kids. They never had to be anything or say anything, they just had to be there, curled under blankets in Regulus’ bed, or side by side on bikes flying through suburbia like it was their empire. Second semester of Uni in London, three years after leaving home, was the first time in a long time he really missed his brother. It hit him suddenly, one moment he was in the courtyard, listening to Evan prattle on about dropping out, and the next he had the unexplainable urge to call his brother. It almost scared him. He had pretty much stopped missing Sirius two years ago, and even then, Regulus had never missed anything so viscerally before. Now, though, he missed Sirius down to their shared marrow. He thought about calling him, just to talk, or maybe to have him pick up and not say anything at all, just breathe on the other line. When Evan dropped out, Regulus applied as a transfer on a whim, a rash decision driven by his unquenchable missing-ness of his older brother.
He was not fully thinking it through when he applied to Hogwarts, or when he accepted his place, or even when he moved all the way back to the states, abandoning the early adulthood he had built from his adolescence in London. He wasn’t thinking about it, seeing Sirius again, but then he had to, and he was scared. He was scared so he avoided it. Sirius had offered to pick him up from the airport, even insisting he spend the first night over at his apartment, but Uncle Alphard suggested they meet up on more neutral territory, so Regulus put it off, and kept putting it off until today, he supposes. Leave it to Sirius to take charge and force Regulus out of hiding.
His break comes too soon, and Regulus makes himself an iced chai and grabs two muffins before stepping out into the dining room. He makes his way over to Sirius, hovering awkwardly because his brother is wearing bulky headphones and he’s looking at his laptop, which means he hasn’t noticed Regulus yet. He sets one of the muffins on the table, sliding the plate in front of Sirius, prompting him to pull off his headphones.
“Hey.” Sirius gestures to the empty chair across from him.
Regulus sits. “I thought you might want a muffin.”
“Yeah, I see that.” Sirius smiles. “Thanks.” He takes a bite, and it doesn’t escape Regulus, how it seems a bit like a performance. He extended an accidental olive branch, and Sirius is overly enthusiastic with how he accepts it. Regulus picks at his own blueberry muffin, dropping sugary crumbs onto the table.
“How are you?” Regulus asks.
“Good.” Sirius says, and it feels honest, not like when Regulus says it as a reflex when people ask him. “Classes are a lot, but I like that, I guess.”
“What are you majoring in?” Regulus asks, aware that he never learned that. “You were undecided last I heard.”
Sirius takes another bite of his muffin, wiping crumbs on his jeans. “I’m pre-med.”
Regulus feels his eyebrows climb. “That’s unexpected.”
“Is it?” Sirius gives him a puzzled head tilt, not out of mockery, but genuine curiosity.
Regulus takes a sip of his drink. The bell over the door chimes every now and then, clinking cups and fingers typing away on laptops leading the soundscape. Regulus can see out the window behind Sirius, watching as students duck under their coats or pull out well prepared umbrellas as it starts to rain.
“Why pre-med?” Regulus says, rolling a displaced blueberry from his muffin under his fingers, across the table top.
Sirius gives him a look, something he’s sure he could have deciphered once, but can’t anymore.
“Sirius.” Regulus prompts.
“I want to help kids with autoimmune disorders.” Sirius shrugs. “Kids like you.”
That makes Regulus pause, pure shock making his lungs constrict. He looks at the window again, picking a pair of raindrops to watch slide down the pane of glass. He watches until one disappears behind Sirius’ shoulder, then picks a new set.
Sirius keeps going, “I want to be like the one that helped you.”
“Doctor Pomfrey?” Regulus says. Another raindrop falls out of view.
“Right.” Sirius says. “I’ve watched her seminars. Online, of course, but she gives a good lecture.”
“You did?”
“I looked her up back when you first started seeing her. Kept tabs on her after that, since she’s all about spreading awareness.” Sirius shrugs again, and the gesture feels too casual to Regulus. Not right for the big reveals he’s making.
“Awareness.” Regulus repeats, unsure what else to say. He was not expecting this conversation to go this way.
“Yeah, I educate my friends when I can, too.” Sirius says, a small smile creeping its way onto his face. “I even helped my friend’s cousin get a diagnosis. Mentioned it offhand I guess, and Lily passed it on to her Aunt who told the kid’s doctor, and it turns out it was their answer.”
“You’ve told your friends?” Regulus asks, a sudden sickness washing over him. That must be why James keeps checking in on him. Sirius told him. He knows. How long has he known?
“Not about you, Regulus.” Sirius assures him, reaching out a hand to settle over Regulus’, ceasing his fidgeting. “That’s your right to share or not share, though I don’t think it’s a bad idea to tell people.”
“It’s not my whole life.” Regulus snatches his hand back. “Not anymore.”
Sirius nods. “I know.”
“Good.” Regulus shoves a muffin crumb into his mouth, the coarse sugar topping melting in his mouth. “I’m majoring in film.”
“Wow, really?” Sirius smiles, falling effortlessly into the topic change. “Why film?”
Regulus finds it easy then to tell Sirius about how he discovered photography, detailing his work on his old school newspaper with Evan. He explains his love of cameras, the one he was gifted by Uncle Alphard, more suited to film than stills, and how he couldn’t put it down for weeks. He talks about the short films he used to make Evan act in, the documentary he made about this pub owner back in London, and Sirius listens the whole time, only interrupting to nod or ask a question when Regulus uses a term he doesn’t know. Turns out a year of film school in London gained him fluency in on-set terminology, something that feels second-nature now.
“You want to be the guy that films stuff?” Sirius butchers the job title, a supportive attempt, but a failure.
“A cinematographer.” Regulus clarifies. “I want to capture moments.”
“Wow.” Sirius smiles, and Regulus feels himself smiling back.
Notes:
I feel like it's a slow-burn reconnection. I thought maybe this would be a big blow up conversation, but I think they both want it to work so bad that they're treading lightly.
Dropping clues here and there too about Reg (we will learn the whole story, I swear)
Chapter 6: Even Adonises Must Have One Fault
Notes:
Wow. Ok this is somehow my newest and yet still my most clicked on fic. So, thanks for reading guys and thanks to those that have left comments.
This chapter was a beast to write, but I LOVE it. Hope you do too.
Also, if you aren't already you should follow my tiktok @Blossomsundercover ;)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Regulus Black - Hogwarts University, Sophomore Year (Fall)
“You can’t seriously think that they were on a break.” Regulus says, slumping back into the couch cushions and lifting his feet onto the coffee table. Among his socked feet are coffee cups and takeout boxes, a bottle of red and long stemmed wine glasses– Regulus bought them for Remus after he was forced to drink out of iced tea glasses the last time he was over. Maybe it’s pathetic to have a glass of wine midafternoon, but it was a hectic morning at work, so Remus says they deserve it.
“Rachel is literally the one that suggested the break!” Remus argues. “Ross wanted a break from the conversation, and then she said they should break up.”
“No, see, that’s where you’re wrong.” Regulus grabs the remote, skipping back to find the receipts. “It’s the semantics. She said break, not break up .”
Remus huffs a laugh. “That doesn’t mean anything.” He takes a sip of his Malbec.
“Yes, it does! You have to say the word breakup for it to count.” Regulus clicks the remote, and the streaming service makes them watch an ad before the scene will replay. He misses his DVD box sets, but he left them back home with Uncle Alphard. Plus, Remus doesn’t have a DVD player, so they’re forced to sit through thirty seconds of online banking ads, or those medication ones that list terrible side effects whilst showing fields of flowers and smiling families.
Remus raises his eyebrows, swallowing his wine. “By that logic, I’m still in my last three relationships.”
Ross and Rachel start arguing, and there’s a buzzing from between the couch cushions. Remus starts feeling around for the phone, but it stops ringing before he finds it. A few seconds, then the buzzing starts again.
“Reg, I think it’s yours.” Remus says, and it’s confirmed when he picks up his own phone from the coffee table.
“Let it go to voicemail.” Regulus shrugs. It’s probably Barty calling to complain about something, which can wait until later. Better yet, he’ll burn off the frustration by posting a rant on his story that Regulus can skip through later tonight.
Onscreen, Ross is suggesting frozen yogurt when Regulus’ phone starts ringing for a third time. He prys himself up to dig through the cushions, missing Rachel’s dialogue, which means he’ll have to skip back again. When he locates the phone, he answers without even glancing at the screen. Whoever it is seems to be dying to speak to him, so he won’t delay it further.
“Hello?” Regulus holds the phone to his ear, moving to pick up the discarded takeout boxes, since he’s up anyways.
“Regulus?” The voice on the other line asks. It’s not Barty.
“Yeah, who is this?” He moves through the apartment to the kitchen, dropping the takeout into the bin.
“It’s um, James.”
“Oh.” Regulus doesn’t know what to say. James has never called him before. “Is everything alright? How are you?”
“Good.” James says, straight away, before adding, “Well, maybe not, actually. Things could be better.”
Remus joins Regulus in the kitchen, chucking the togo coffee cups they brought with them after work, then leaning against the counter to listen in on the call.
“James, what’s going on?” Regulus says, willing himself to stand still instead of the nervous pacing he wants to be doing.
“Can I ask you a favor?” James says, evading the question. There’s a beeping noise in the background, a constant metranomic sound Regulus associates with his stays in the hospital.
“James, you’re scaring me.” Regulus says.
“No, no it’s fine!” James sounds stressed, despite his words. “I am totally ok. I was just wondering if maybe-”
“Just spit it out.” Regulus urges.
“Would you come pick me up from the hospital?” James says it all in one breath, forcing himself to get it over with.
Regulus feels his heart sink. “What happened?” The nervous pacing starts.
“I had a bit of an allergic reaction.” James admits. “Someone in my Gothic Stories class ate a peanut butter sandwich, even though I told everyone, week one, that I’m anaphylactic.”
It seems impossible that someone as big and bold as James Potter could be brought down by a peanut, of all things, but even adonises must have one fault. James’ peanut allergy is what Regulus has always considered his achilles heel. His humanizing factor, something to ground James. A struggle, there to ensure he wouldn’t become an egomaniac. Regulus remembers when Sirius came home begging his mother to switch to sunbutter, instead of peanut butter, for his lunches. It was right after he met James at football camp during the summer. He was the only student who had to sit at the allergy-free table, so Sirius threw out his lunch and sat with him that first day, and he continued to do so for the rest of the summer, since Mom refused to stop using peanut butter. Regulus remembers being given all of Sirius’ Snickers and Reese’s cups on Halloweens, sweets he forced Barty to take, since he saw James himself every now and then, and didn’t want to risk it. He used to be neurotic about keeping his life peanut free, just in case he ran into James. He hasn’t thought about that in years.
“Oh my god, James.” Regulus says, shushing Remus with a gesture of his finger to keep him from asking questions. “That must have been so scary.”
James swallows. “Yeah, it was.”
“You’re ok, now?”
“Yeah, yeah. They said I could go.” James confirms. “I’m hopped up on Benadryl and they’ve told me to take it for a few more days. Prescribed me a new EpiPen too, since we had to use mine.” He can hear James wince, likely recalling the memory of a fellow student, or maybe his professor, administering the epinephrine in a lecture hall. Did they take him in an ambulance?
“Good, that’s good.” Regulus ceases his pacing, feeling his lungs fill up for the first time since he answered the phone. “Sorry, why did you call again?”
If James thinks he’s being insensitive, he doesn’t mention it. “I don’t have my car here, and they don’t want me to be alone for a few hours anyways.”
“Right. But why me?” He doesn’t say why not Sirius , but James understands.
“He’s got a major exam right now.” James says. “I couldn’t interrupt that, and Peter didn’t answer his phone.”
It’s reassuring to Regulus that he wasn’t the first choice. James had to resort to Regulus, but he still called anyway, taking a leap of faith on someone that isn’t his friend. Never was, really.
“I don’t have a car.” Regulus says, deflating at the fact that he can’t be what James needs him to be.
“Oh.” James says, and his disappointment is clear in the punched out breath he releases.
“Reg, I’ll drive.” Remus says, volunteering even though he’s only heard one side of this phone call.
Regulus pulls the phone away from his ear. “You sure?”
Remus rolls his eyes. “Grab your coat and tell him we’re on the way.”
“My friend does! Have a car, that is.” Regulus clarifies. “We’re leaving now. Which hospital?”
“Thank you.” James lets out a sigh of relief and promises to text him the hospital details.
Remus drives a white Jeep, and he turns the radio to a soft background level, a quiet hum to drown out the stifling worry permeating the car. Regulus recaps the phone call to Remus, glad when he doesn’t ask too many questions like, who’s James? Why would he call you? Is he your boyfri-
“We’re here.” Remus says, and Regulus zones back in from his spiral.
“Right.” He says, unbuckling his seatbelt.
“Would you rather I wait in the car?”
Regulus purses his lips, considering. “Is that like, totally rude?”
Remus laughs. “Reg, I’m here because I’m your friend and I want to support you. I don’t give a toss whether that support is being clingy or giving you space. Whatever’s gonna help.”
“Oh, thank you.” Regulus says, opening the passenger door. “It’s just, James and I-”
“No need to explain.” Remus says, and his earnestness is clear in the small smile tugging at his lips. “Sounded kinda complicated, or at least personal, on the phone.”
“Yeah.” Regulus agrees. “We’ll be out soon.”
“No rush.” Remus shrugs, pulling a book out of the glove compartment and flipping to his saved page.
Regulus hasn’t been in a hospital as anything but the patient before, so it’s odd to have to stop by the check-in desk as a visitor. He’s screened through a metal detector and given a purple visitor sticker, told James’ room number and pointed in the right direction. The floor is all beige, square shaped tile, and the walls have directional signs and bulletin boards, some of which have drawings done by kids for the medical staff– stick figures saying Thank u for making me better and You helped mommy , red hearts drawn with crayons. The smell is stale and sterile, hand sanitizer dispensers and clorox wipes. There are heart monitors beeping out of rhythm with one another, and a man taking a lap around the floor with an IV cart.
When Regulus reaches room nine-three-four, he pauses for a moment. He doesn’t know how James is going to look, so he takes a breath, preparing himself for the worst: James covered in hives, draped in a hospital gown, swollen lips and cheeks. He knocks on the door.
“Come in!” James’ voice calls, so Regulus enters.
It’s not as bad as he was expecting. James is in his own clothes, a red zip-up and grey sweatpants. There’s a bandage wrapped around one arm from where an IV must have been, and a heart monitor still attached, its tempo slightly fast, but not frantic enough to alert any nurses. His glasses are on the table beside him, his eyes still a bit puffy. His face and neck are red and splotchy, but his lips are at their normal size. He licks them, making Regulus flick his gaze up, meeting his eyes. Without his glasses framing them, they look smaller.
“Hey.” Regulus is hovering awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring at James in his hospital bed.
James smiles, the moon pulling the tides. “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course.” Regulus says. “How are you, um, feeling?”
“Bit better now.” James shifts, rearranging his blanket and the sheets Regulus knows are stiff and scratchy. “They want the nurse to stop in once more to unhook this.” He gestures to the heart monitor stuck to his bare chest, his shirt discarded, leaving him exposed in his unzipped hoodie.
“Right.” Regulus swallows, averting his eyes from James’ abs.
“You can sit if you want.” James nods to the chair next to his bed.
Regulus sits. “I’m not sure what to do, James. How to act or what you need me to say.”
“Just be normal.” James’ eyes crinkle with another smile. “That’ll help.”
“I can do that.” Regulus promises. “What should I talk about?”
“What were you doing when I called you? Where’s your friend?” James is tapping his fingers on the side of his thigh, a nervous tick, most likely pressing on the EpiPen bruise blooming under his sweatpants.
Regulus clears his throat. “My friend’s name is Remus, we work together at Owlery, that cafe on campus.”
“I know the one! Didn’t know you worked there.” James says, which means Sirius didn’t tell him about their reunion last week.
“Kinda fell into the job.” Regulus explains. “Anyways, Remus and I were hanging out after work, just watching TV.”
“What were you watching?”
“Friends.”
James breathes, as if to speak again, but he doesn’t. Regulus knows he was about to say, Sirius used to watch that .
“Here’s a good debate topic.” Regulus shifts in his seat, bringing his legs into a criss cross position. “Were Ross and Rachel on a break? Your answer is going to make me judge you.” He warns, feeling more comfortable with each smile he draws out of James.
“I don’t think it matters.” James decides.
“That’s no fun!” Regulus argues. “You have to answer.”
“No, no, that is my answer.” James says. “I don’t think it matters if they were on a break or not. Either way, it was a total lack of communication on both their parts. Rachel was a bit explosive, unclear on what she meant by ‘break,’ but Ross immediately sleeping with someone else is shitty, even if they had broken up.”
Regulus hums. “Ok, that was extremely reasonable, which is kind of annoying.”
James laughs. “Oh, really? Why?”
“You’re not so predictable anymore.”
James scoffs, part shock, part indignance. “Was I before?”
“Yeah. You both were.” Regulus says. “Back in high school, I could always guess what you thought about things.” Regulus thinks about his brother, studying to be a doctor. He thinks about James dropping his sports management degree to pursue a more noble passion. His high school harassers are becoming grown men, and it’s a strange jump when he wasn’t there to witness the transition.
“What can I say, Reggie? Gotta keep you on your toes.” James leans into his pillows, stretching his arms back to cradle his head.
“Then you do that and it’s clear you’re still the same.”
“Do what?”
“Call me that.” Regulus scrunches his nose in distaste. “No one ever calls me Reggie.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Makes me feel young.”
“Is that bad?” James presses, sitting back up.
“I dunno.” Regulus admits. “I didn’t much like being fourteen, but you weren’t the bad part.”
His confession hangs between them for a moment, and James starts to say something when a knock on the door interrupts them. The nurse comes in to check his vitals, and Regulus looks away as she disconnects the heart monitor and James redresses. He signs his discharge papers, and then they’re out of there, Regulus guiding James to the white jeep in the car park.
Remus startles when Regulus opens the back door, holding it for James to climb in before taking his own place, sitting shotgun.
“Hi, Remus, right? I’m James. Thank you so much for all this.” James says, flashing Remus a grin and buckling his seatbelt.
“No problem.” Remus sticks a receipt from the center console into his book to hold his place, starting the engine. “Where to?” He backs up, turning onto the road.
“Um, Hogwarts campus, English building.”
“You’re not going back to classes.” Regulus snaps. “We’re taking you home.”
“My car is in the parking lot over there.” James explains.
“Fine.” Regulus nods for Remus to drive, turning up the radio, some overplayed pop song thrumming from the speakers.
James asks Remus about a million questions on the drive, getting all the gritty details about Regulus’ barista origin story, and the dirt on Marlene who has started working at a rival coffee shop across campus. She still drops into Owlery from time to time, and it’s like her and Regulus have switched places, him behind the counter, her at his old high top seat. She orders the most insane concoctions she can think of just to mess with her old co-workers, watching and bantering with Regulus as he makes her oddball requests. Dorcas is fully trained now, only asking for help on the more difficult drinks. When they make it to James’ car, he promises to stop by the cafe some time, thanking Remus profusely for the ride.
“Seriously, I won’t ever forget this kindness, my dear Remus.” He’s laying it on thick, but Remus is enjoying the banter, if his laughter is any indication.
“Dearest James, I would never do anything less than be your noble coachman.” Remus gives a mock salute, playing along. “I expect your presence at Owlery soon!”
Regulus hops out of the car, thanking Remus himself and going after James.
James looks surprised at his following. “Regulus?”
“Give me your keys.”
“What?”
“I’m driving. You just had an allergic reaction.” Regulus says, holding his hand out for James’ keys. “Have you eaten?”
“You really don’t have to.” Now that this favor is extending outside of a glorified Uber ride, James looks almost bashful, his cheeks redden and he rubs the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture.
“They said you shouldn’t be alone.” Regulus thrusts his palm towards James again, making the other man dig around for his keys. “Remus has driven away already, so you’re stuck with me.”
James tosses him the keys, Regulus lunging to catch them, and it’s his turn to be embarrassed when they land on the ground. James snickers.
“Don’t laugh.” Regulus picks up the keys, his ears burning crimson.
“I’m not!” James says, even though he is.
“Whatever.” Regulus gets into the driver’s seat of James’ red Volkswagen. He used to drive his family’s old minivan, or so Regulus recalls, which is something people would have made fun of behind his back if James wasn’t so unapologetic about it. He filled the backseat with throw pillows and used to drive his whole little squad around, never accepting offers for gas money, or so Sirius said. The Jetta must be a post-high school upgrade.
“Let’s get food.” Regulus says. “I need a break from the dining hall.”
“What about Trelawney’s, that diner off Diagon?” James suggests, resigning himself to Regulus hijacking his dinner plans.
“Sure, you’ll have to give me directions, I’m not used to driving around here.” Regulus says, turning onto the main road with a jerk of the wheel.
“Or at all, it seems!” James grapples for the handle above the passenger door, exaggerating his reactions to Regulus’ bad driving. “Straighten out, you’re too close to that side. Oh! Ok, Regulus slow down, at least. Woah, woah, woah. Why are you such a bad driver?” He indicates for Regulus to turn.
“I learned to drive in England.” Regulus shrugs. “You all drive on the wrong side in the states.”
“The states? Jolly old England really changed you, huh?” James loosens his hold as Regulus stops at a red light. “What happened to the Iowa farm boy?”
Regulus rolls his eyes. “I was never like that.”
“Yeah, right. I remember you running in the fields with your little friend, what was his name, Barty?”
Regulus nods, turning onto Diagon Avenue at James’ instruction.
“You two would run out onto the Lestrange’s property, performing rain dances.” James sighs. “You were always wishing for rain.”
“I got more than enough of it in London.”
James points to the right. “Pull in here.”
They pull into the car park, the two of them climbing out into the golden hour of light that exists before sunset. Regulus gets the urge to take a photograph, to capture the ring of light that circles around James as he skirts around puddles left behind from the afternoon’s rainstorm. He wishes he had his camera, the good one with the split diopter lens. James would make a great subject for photography– the way he beams when he smiles, his eyes crinkling, magnified behind his glasses. He’s quite pretty in red, Regulus decides, looking at the way it emphasises the slight blush on his cheeks– though that could be remnants from the allergic reaction.
James is walking backwards, a slow swagger as he stretches his arms wide in a gesture for Regulus to catch up, which is when he realizes he’s standing frozen, like a fool. He doubles his footing to match pace, and squashes the blooming embarrassment in his chest when James holds the door open for him.
Trelawney’s is a classic diner, with checkered floors and a counter with tall stools. Booths with tearing upholstery, large windows across the front facade. Tables, sticky from years of dripping syrup bottles. There’s an old jukebox in one of the corners, and it plays over the speakers when customers pay for a song. The smell of hash browns and grilled onions is strong, and James and Regulus are sat in a booth along the window. A server pours them mugs of coffee, leaving them to peruse the laminated menus of burgers and breakfast foods.
“Tell me about London.” James says, wrapping his fingers around his coffee mug.
Regulus mirrors him, warming his hands on the cheap porcelain. “What do you want to know?”
“You lived with your Uncle, right?”
Regulus nods in confirmation.
“Just the two of you?” James sips his coffee.
“Right.” Regulus says. “It worked out well though, Uncle Alphard had this lovely little townhouse and hated living alone. Said he needed it to be filled with voices and music.”
“I like that.” James gestures with his mug, motioning towards Regulus when he says, “So, you were the missing piece?”
“Sure.” Regulus shrugs. “He liked when I had my mates over, said we could always be the hosting house if I wanted. I think, well I think he always wanted to have kids of his own, you know?”
“He never did?”
“No.” Regulus says. “Never got married, never had kids. He used to joke that he skipped right to the townhouse, but forgot to get the family to fill it with.”
James presses his lips together. “Until you.”
“Until me.” Regulus takes a sip of his coffee, a bit watery, a bit burnt, with notes of char, a result of the pot sitting on a warming plate for hours.
Their server circles back, a woman with long wavy hair, a scarf wrapped around her head and a ring on each finger. She’s got fisheye glasses, making her blue eyes appear several times larger and her eyelashes look like spider legs. Her name tag reads Sybill .
“Chocolate chip pancakes?” She asks, looking right at Regulus.
“Um, yes.” He agrees, surprised at her guessing his order.
Sybill leans in as she addresses James, batting her spider lashes. “And a patty melt for you, darlin?” Her accent is thick and southern.
James’ jaw falls open, and he nods his assent.
“I’ll bring over fries for the table.” Sybill winks, setting a stack of napkins on the table before turning towards the kitchen, her dangly jewelry clinking in time with the heeled boots on her feet.
“That was-” James starts.
“Terrifying.” Regulus finishes.
“I was going to say impressive.” James says, pushing the pile of napkins towards Regulus. “You wanna show off your folding skills?”
Regulus sinks down into the booth seat, his face burning. He doesn’t say anything. He’s probably as red as a tomato, crossing his arms over his chest.
“It was a pretty good paper.” James says, picking up a napkin and opening it to its full square shape. “I mean the significance of the bishop’s mitre fold?” He begins folding the paper napkin as he speaks. “It was impressive, the connections you made to Catholicism and depictions of religious figures in art historical contexts.” James makes a few more folds. “What was it you said, the integration of Catholic iconography into domestic spaces?” He places his finished piece onto the table: a perfect example of the bishop’s mitre fold.
Regulus groans. “You read it?”
“I graded it.”
Regulus could die. “You didn’t.” He denies, more a wish than anything else.
“I admire your commitment. You are on another level of stubborness. I’ve never met anyone who can surpass-” He cuts himself off, stopping before he says Sirius .
“James, you don’t have to avoid talking about him, you know.” Regulus says, grabbing a napkin of his own to tear at, ripping it into strips.
“I promised we’d work up to it.” James says, and Regulus didn’t think he’d remember saying that.
“I know he’s your best friend.” Regulus mutters, tearing the strips into pieces. “I’ve never known you without knowing that.”
“Well, maybe you could.” James suggests.
Regulus blinks, freezing his napkin tearing. “What?”
“You said you didn’t think I knew you in high school. Well, that means you didn’t know me either.” James reasons. “You said it yourself, I’ve always just been Sirius’ best friend to you.”
“Well, aren’t you?” Regulus scoops his napkin pieces into a pile, rolling them under his palm.
“I am.” James nods. “But that’s just one facet of me. You’re not just Sirius’ brother, right?” He places his hand over Regulus’, stopping his fidgeting, sweeping up the napkin shreds and placing them behind the sugar shaker on his side of the table. When he pulls his hand back, Regulus feels tingly all the way up his arm.
Sybill comes back with a tray, placing their plates in front of them. “This one’s a bit warm.” she says to James.
“Thanks.” James smiles.
“Thank you.” Regulus echoes when she places a large plate of fries in the center of the table.
“Could I get some-”
“Ketchup?” Sybill places a bottle of ketchup on the counter, grabbing Regulus’ pile of napkin shreds and turning away.
“Thanks.” James squirts some ketchup on his plate, turning his attention back to their conversation. “So, Reggie, what do you say?”
“Hmm?” Regulus looks up from his pancakes.
“Want to get to know each other?”
Regulus thinks for a moment about what that would mean. He’d like to know James, after today he’s very curious, but letting James know him? That’s scarier. That means something. What would Sirius think? He cuts off that train of thought, because isn’t the whole point of this to forget about what Sirius would think? Maybe, Regulus needs to let himself have the things he wants. Maybe, if this goes well, it could bring him and Sirius even closer.
“Ok.” Regulus lets himself smile, buzzing inside when James smiles back.
Notes:
The reversal of roles between James and Reg here is my EVERYTHING... James using Reg's words from high school, "Just be normal" literally broke my heart and stitched it back together.
Guys I fear I am PROJECTING with this fic. It was supposed to be my idea dump fic and it's turning into something really special and meaningful to me. It's getting close to my heart <3.
James with allergies > because guys-- all hotties need a struggle it's a requirement. James is too nice for how hot he is, so he needed something to humanize him. *see chapter title.
WHY DID HE CALL REG??? What do you think?
REMUS LUPIN MY ICON>>> he is so interesting to me in this fic. I wonder why he didn't go into the hospital... hmmm... could that mean something deeper...?
I had to put my darling dearest Sybill in here, even as a cameo. If you're reading my Peter's POV fic (I Have Always Been A Storm), you understand how much I love her. She needed her moment in this one too, and yeah I recycled some of her description from my other fic, but it's not plagiarizing if it's my own words.
Also, let's appreciate my Potter references because the cafe being called Owlery, James' hospital room being 934 (platform 9 3/4), and Trelawney's diner off of Diagon Ave... these are fun for me.
What other characters are we looking forward to seeing or seeing more of?
xoxo, Blossom
Chapter 7: Calls From The Bathroom
Notes:
Short one, but another update is in the drafts rn so it should be up soon.
CW - descriptions of anxiety, ocd, issues with eating, other things in this realm. (More info in end notes)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Alphard Black - London, Regulus’ Sophomore Year Of High School (Fall)
There’s a chill in the air, but not enough to keep Alphard from reading on the balcony. It’s the main reason he bought this house all those years ago, –along with the clawfoot tub in the master bathroom– the balcony’s view of the park across the way makes for the perfect backdrop for his evenings. The sound of London’s bustling Friday night crowd drifts up from below, music pouring down the street from the pub on the corner. Alphard likes spending his evenings like this, observing the pomp from a distance, letting elements bleed through as they may. He used to have grand dreams of hosting dinner parties on nights like tonight, but he wouldn’t know who to invite these days, so he resigns himself to reading stories where characters get to do those types of things. Maybe it’s pathetic for a man in his forties to read fiction and fantasy, his family has said as much, but Alphard doesn’t care much about their opinions anymore.
He’s got a blanket draped over his shoulders and a mug of tea that was piping hot when he first stepped outside– it’s gone lukewarm now, as Alphard is a deep reader, distracted by the characters, causing him to neglect the earl grey on the side table to consume pages instead. He turns a page and pauses to take a sip. It’s fully cold now. Maybe he ought to switch to scotch now that the sun’s setting. After this chapter , he decides, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose.
The telephone rings.
Alphard slips a bookmark between the pages, setting the book on the side table and sliding his feet back into his slippers. He lets his blanket trail behind him as he walks inside to answer the phone that rests on his nightstand. He rarely receives calls on his landline anymore, the only people with that number are family or old school chums. Alphard swallows, preparing himself for the worst before pressing the receiver to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, um, I’m looking for Alphard. Alphard Black?” a voice says, younger than any of his school friends, and not quite as bitter sounding as his family.
“Speaking.” Alphard confirms, a bemused smile creeping up his lips.
“Oh, good. Great, even.” the voice says. “This is Sirius, your nephew.”
Alphard takes a beat, processing, before, “Sirius! My dear boy, how are you? It’s lovely to hear from you.”
“Thanks.” Sirius says, and there’s some shuffling on the other line, the sound of a door creaking closed, a tap turning on. “Sorry, need to mute the sound. No one knows I’m calling.”
“I see.” Alphard knows very well how his brother, Sirius’ father, and his sister-in-law, the kid’s mother, feel about him. How they’ve shielded their sons from Alphard. It took six years of return-to-sender letters and packages for Alphard to stop sending messages and Christmas presents. He hasn’t seen Sirius since the boy was young, maybe ten, if he recalls. They’ve never spoken on the phone before.
“I found your number on a sticky note.” Sirius explains. “It was in father’s desk drawer.”
“I see.” Alphard says again. “As I said, I’m glad you’ve called, but it seems like maybe you’ve called with purpose, am I right?”
“Yeah.” Sirius admits. “I- um.” he sucks in a breath, letting it out before continuing. “Regulus isn’t doing well. I think- well, I think he’s sick.”
“Sick?” Alphard sits down on the edge of his bed.
“He’s been so different lately. I mean, Regulus has always been a bit different, more sensitive, Mom says, but it’s gotten worse.” Sirius sounds scared, his breathing a bit erratic. “They’ve got him on these anti-anxiety meds, but I don’t think they’re helping. He’s pulled back from me, not telling me what’s wrong. His grades are slipping, he’s stopped seeing his friends. I think he doesn’t eat sometimes, and he’s always washing his hands, scrubbed 'em raw by now.”
“Sirius, find a place to sit down.” Alphard instructs.
There’s noise on the other line, the sound of what must be Sirius finding a chair.
“Have you found a spot?” Alphard asks.
“I’m in the bathtub.” Sirius says. “Dry, of course.”
“I used to take calls from the bathroom.” Alphard lets a small laugh escape. “Bathtub seems much nicer than the top of the toilet, though. Nice choice.”
“Regulus’ idea. We used to watch movies in here.” It feels like a fragile memory, the way Sirius says it, so Alphard doesn’t comment.
“Sirius, I’m proud of you.” he says. “You did the right thing by calling.”
“Have I?”
“Yes.” Alphard confirms. “I can help.”
Sirius lets out a sigh of relief. “Uncle Alphard?”
“Yes, Sirius?”
“Don’t tell Regulus I’m the one who called.” Sirius is quiet for a moment before adding, “He wouldn’t like it.”
Notes:
More on the CW: this is Sirius describing symptoms of Regulus' autoimmune disorder before it is diagnosed. We will learn more as the story goes, and I don't want to spoil things, so that's that for right now. Also-- trust I am not writing this without some personal ties/connections, but to keep privacy, I won't be sharing more than that much.
Surprise... Uncle Alphard POV-- trust me I am just as surprised as you are. This was not in the plans-- but this fic was not planned at all so...
This was actually very fun/interesting to write. We may just see some other characters' POVs as we go-- I'll keep you guessing, but let me know if there is anyone you're hoping to read a POV from (and from which point in time), because if I am not already planning it, you may change my mind. As I've said this is a story I'm writing with minimal planning, so I may get ideas as I go.
I have the next few chapters planned (in my head at least), but the major arc is only blurry in terms of where I'm headed. Thanks for reading :)
xoxo, Blossom
Chapter 8: Smoke Break
Notes:
Guys I love this one. Enjoy. (Finally some Reg in London!)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Regulus Black - London, Year Eleven, Secondary School (Winter)
Mary Macdonald has always been the biggest instigator in their year. She’s one of the Daddy’s Money kids with inattentive parents, leaving her alone and setting her up to stir mischief. Sometimes, she’ll convince the group to go to a pub, coaxing everyone into getting pissed and orchestrating more than one drunken snog for her friends, shoving a guy or girl their way until something sticks. Other times, they’ll pile into a car and drive all the way to Holywell, spending the day on the beach.
Mary is loud, popular, a prefect, and the most pop-culture obsessed person Regulus has ever met. When he looks at Mary as a bullet pointed list, there is no reason he should be friends with her, but it wasn’t his decision. Mary handpicked him and Evan, deeming them her boys and inviting them to anything and everything her and her bestest friend, Pandora– whom she had claimed in year nine– did. That was Mary’s thing, adopting people with quirks to curate a posse that wouldn’t snub her, because she was more than them. More popular, more attractive, more rich. Surrounding herself with people who were less made Mary seem more .
“Oi!” Without even raising her voice, Mary gains the attention of the room, heads snapping up to look at her. They’re in Mary’s family’s home, her parents away in Mallorca or somewhere. Regulus is sitting on the arm of a chair, Evan perched in the seat. They’re on the outskirts, furthest from the drink cart, doing what they always do at these things: observing. Mary never hosts a party without an objective, usually a romantic one, but she hasn’t revealed her plot just yet, which means it’s not for her. She’s gunning to set up one of her friends, so whatever announcement she’s about to make is in favor of getting some for someone. Likely Pandora, since Regulus hasn’t chatted to Mary about romance stuff, and Evan wouldn’t be sitting here if he was involved.
“You tossers all sit down!” Mary thrusts her arm up, an empty bottle of wine in her hand, something expensive and imported that she swore her parents wouldn’t miss. “We’re playing spin the bottle.”
“Who’daya think she’s trying to get to snog?” Regulus whispers, leaning down to Evan’s ear, his friend’s blond hair making his nose itch. He’s put gel in it, the kind Regulus tells him smells like furniture polish.
“Come on.” Evan says. “Let’s sit down.”
“Woah, woah, woah, Ev.” Regulus reaches for Evan’s arm, attempting to pull him back to their chair. “We’re not really gonna play, are we?”
Evan shrugs, his arm slipping out from Regulus’ hold. “Why not?” He shoots him a cheeky wink before he joins the circle forming on the floor, squeezing in between two girls.
Regulus has no choice but to follow, because everyone else has already joined the game, and he won’t be the only one sitting out. Not without Evan.
Regulus sits beside Pandora, who places a comforting arm on his shoulder. Her blue polished fingers squeeze him through his jumper before she pulls her hand back to push her hair behind her ears, white-blonde waves that go halfway down her back.
“Anyone special you’re wanting to snog?” She looks across the circle, sizing up the others before looking back at Regulus, playing matchmaker in her head.
“No.” Regulus says, probably too quickly.
Pandora raises an eyebrow. “People don’t join spin the bottle if they don’t want a cheeky snog.”
“That’s not true.” Regulus argues. And it can’t be because Evan got up to play. Why does Evan want to play? Is there someone he wants to snog? Why wouldn’t he tell Regulus? Best mates are supposed to tell each other these sorts of things.
Once everyone is seated, Mary places the bottle in the center of the floor, insisting that she go first, since it was her idea. Because she’s Mary, no one objects, and the bottle spins a few times, landing on a lad called Gilderoy.
There are oohs and chuckles, and Mary crawls across the circle on all fours, approaching the bloke like a panther stalking prey. They smash their faces together, and the group holds their breath until they pull apart, bursting into applause. Gilderoy’s face is bright red, and Mary wipes her mouth, her lipstick painting the back of her hand.
“That’s the only time you’re ever gonna get that.” Mary jokes, sliding back into her spot. She passes the bottle to the girl next to her, some blonde she’s prefects with.
Blonde Prefect takes her turn, and Regulus holds his breath because he’s just had the realization that if the bottle lands on him, he’ll have to kiss someone here. Spin, spin, spin, he’s safe this go round, the bottle pointing away from him. The new pairing kiss, this one more chaste than Mary’s example, and the bottle gets passed to the right again. The next few turns all go the same, Regulus sucking in a breath until the bottle stops its nauseating movements, pretending to cheer with the rest of the group after each snog.
The bottle gets to Pandora, and she kisses Xeno, this lad she fancies from the year above them, so Regulus cheers for real this time. There’s a genuine smile beginning to crack across his face when Pandora thrusts the bottle at him.
“Your turn.” She giggles, jostling Regulus’ shoulder in what he’s sure is supposed to be an encouraging gesture.
Regulus accepts the bottle, not letting himself pause. He closes his eyes as he sends it spinning, squeezing them shut until he sees shapes blurring behind his eyelids. It takes Pandora nudging his shoulder for his eyes to open, and another beat before he gets the courage to look at the bottle, then up at who it’s pointing to: Evan.
It’s Evan.
It’s his best friend.
Evan.
Regulus feels his face flush, betraying the squirming feeling of caterpillars crawling in his stomach.
“My boys!” Mary hollers. “It’s the rules, get to it!”
The room follows her lead, goading them to move into the center of the circle. Regulus is pushed forward, meeting Evan halfway, the two of them resting on their knees.
“Give him a good snog!” someone shouts, and Regulus finally looks up at his friend.
Evan looks flushed, his ears twinging pink with embarrassment. His eyes are glassy, not due to emotion, but likely due to the alcohol still buzzing through his system. He’s got his lower lip caught between his teeth, and he releases it when he catches Regulus looking.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Evan shrugs, and it’s an easy gesture, like he’s not impacted either way. “It’s just a stupid game.”
Regulus has the frightening thought that maybe he does want to. He really wants to. “It’s the rules.” He shrugs, trying to match Evan’s nonchalance.
Evan nods, leaning forward, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes close. It takes Regulus a beat to meet him there, closing his own eyes in an attempt to block out the cheers and laughter coming from the surrounding crowd. Their mouths touch, a brush of lips that makes Regulus almost flinch, but then Evan takes the lead, guiding Regulus through the kiss with a firm press forward. His lips are warm, and it’s awkward and stilted, both their arms hanging at their own sides. Just as Regulus gets the urge to shove a hand into Evan’s blond hair, maybe disrupt his carefully styled gel, the other boy pulls away.
There’s a moment of eye contact before Evan looks away, mirroring Mary from earlier, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Regulus presses two fingers to his own lips. The room cheers, and the bottle gets passed, the game continuing as if that wasn’t earth shattering. Regulus can’t focus, more interested in watching Evan from across the room. Does he feel weird? His face gives nothing away, his eyes locked on the bottle’s motion.
Regulus doesn’t have to kiss anyone else, but when it’s Evan’s turn to spin, the bottle lands on a spindly brunette girl with an upturned nose. It’s strange to watch Evan kiss someone else after having experienced it himself. This kiss seems to last longer than theirs, and Evan cups the girl’s face with his hands, making Regulus wonder what that might feel like. He feels a bit sick to his stomach actually, so he stands up, ignoring Pandora’s questions as he cuts through the kitchen, stepping outside onto the back porch. He remembers to grab his coat, but not his shoes. He can feel the ice and snow and the wooden slats of the patio through his socks, a slight dampness making his toes go numb. He rests his elbows on the railing, looking up at the stars. His breath comes out as puffs of air, mist coming from his lungs.
The door slides open, and he knows who it is before he looks. Evan did not grab his own coat, but a glance down shows he remembered his shoes– black boots several sizes larger than the average seventeen year old. He takes his place next to Regulus, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his trouser pocket. He lights two at once, keeping one and passing the other to Regulus. Neither of them put it to their lips, just letting it burn to the tips of their fingers, and Regulus bites back a smile. Evan caught Regulus doing this at one of the first parties they went to together, trying to blend in with the popular crowd. Instead of pointing it out to the other lads, Evan copied him, pulling him aside to give them space to breathe. Anyone who saw them from afar assumed they were taking a smoke break, so it’s become a bit of a secret language for them. Whenever one of them gets overwhelmed, they suggest a joint ‘smoke break,’ ejecting themselves from the crowd to take a moment. Evan must have made their excuses and followed him out here.
Neither of them says anything, and Regulus lets himself enjoy the ease of their coexistence. He likes existing next to Evan. He wonders if the feeling is mutual.
They stand in silence until the sticks turn to ash.
“Bollocks, Reg, my hands are fucking freezing, mate.” Evan says, squeezing his hands in and out of fists to get the blood flowing.
“Give ‘em here.” Regulus says, turning to face Evan. He grabs his friend’s hands, shoving them into his own coat, letting his body heat up Evan’s cold fingers as they rest on the sides of his torso, under his arms.
Evan blinks, his brows crinkling in confusion. “What’re you doing?” it comes out as a whisper, his breath visible in the inches between their faces.
Regulus shrugs. “Just warming your hands.”
Evan tilts his face, purses his lips, a silent continuation of his question.
Before he can overthink it, Regulus goes for it, surging forward to plant a kiss onto Evan’s chapped lips. This one is fast, just a peck. An experiment really, and when Evan’s eyes widen, Regulus shoots forward to try again.
Evan pulls back, his hands slipping free from Regulus’ coat. “Woah, woah, Reg. Stop.”
Regulus freezes.
“Why’d you do that?”
“I dunno.” Regulus says. His cheeks are burning, and he can’t tell if it’s from shame or the intense cold. His socks are soaked through now, threatening frostbite and blue toes. “I think, I mean, I think I just wanted to.”
Evan nods, his teeth scraping against his bottom lip a moment. He’s always done that when he’s stressed, his lips are constantly chapped during exam season. “Why?”
“Ev, I think you know why.”
“You know I love you, right? I do, just not like that.” Evan says, and Regulus squeezes his eyes shut.
“Is it because-” He huffs out a breath, starting over. “Is it because of my- well, my-”
“It’s got nothing to do with the PANDAS, Regulus.” Evan’s expression pinches. “What kind of person do you think I am?” He looks gutted.
“I would understand.” Regulus insists. “I’ve only just gotten it all under control, you know that more than most, more than anyone, really. I just thought that in spite of my issues that-”
Evan reaches forward, placing his hands on Regulus’ shoulders. “I love you not in spite of your autoimmune issues, but just because I love you, mate.”
Regulus flinches at the word mate .
Evan continues, “That’s as far as it can go for me though. Mates. You’re my best friend, Reg.”
“You’re mine.” Regulus agrees.
“Glad we’ve sorted that.” Evan laughs, the sound clear and crystalline. “I just, I like someone else, the um, the girl from the game. Alice.”
“The one you kissed?”
“Yeah.” Evan confirms, his cheeks going pink. Regulus knows enough to know it’s not from the cold.
“Mary planned the party for you?” Regulus says, more of a realization than a question. “If she, if Alice, wasn’t a factor, do you think-”
“No.” Evan says, his honesty hitting Regulus square in the chest. “I think we’re meant to be best friends. If it wasn’t her it’d be someone else. I think there’s someone else for you, too.”
“I dunno about that.” Regulus sighs, crossing his arms and shoving his hands under opposite armpits, where Evan’s had been, inside his coat. “Have I ruined things?”
“Never.” Evan smiles. “Here, let’s have another smoke.”
Regulus accepts the cigarette Evan offers, the two of them standing out on the frozen patio, shoulders touching, elbows resting on the railing, letting the cigarettes smolder between their fingers.
Notes:
OK LOTS TO DEBRIEF.
First, I have to mention that we now have a name for Regulus' autoimmune disorder: PANDAS (Pediatric Autoimmune Neuropsychiatric Disorders Associated with Strep)... we will learn more, but please please go educate yourself on this one! It's not a super well known autoimmune disorder, but also not as uncommon as it may seem. I am NOT a doctor, but I am writing from my own connections to PANDAS (without being specific as to how to keep privacy). This is becoming a story so close to my heart-- and Regulus as a character means a lot to me here. What I think is something so great about fanfic is using characters to create representation, and Regulus as a kid with PANDAS is very meaningful to me.
Moving on: EVAN X REGULUS???? I just wanted this moment. It felt right for them. They never go beyond this in terms of romantic exploration, but I think this moment helped Regulus learn about himself. Their kiss outside was inspired by Michael in Billy Elliot (the hand warming is pulled from that)... idk why that scene was in my head and I thought: yeah, Reg would do that. I love Evan and how kind he is here-- and his hair gel. My dear he is such a good friend to Reg.
Why is the cigarette thing accidentally giving The Fault In Our Stars-- that was not my intention lol. Oh well.
MARY MACDONALD!!! I am so happy she's here! This is so funny to me because I love the skittles, and this is basically skittles swapping out Mary for Barty (since Barty is an Iowa based friend)-- but I LOVE her in this friendship group. I think Mary befriending oddballs to add to her own popularity is super interesting. Mary is one of those friends Reg had in HS, but didn't keep up with, and I think that's important and realistic to show in stories. Some people are there for a season, not meant to stick around. I really do like her though, so maybe we'll see her again in other flashbacks. Hoping my Britishisms weren't too cringey.
Honorable mention to Pandora and her sweetheart Xeno ;) my icon fr.
Ok, I am kinda nervous to post this one (literally more nervous about these end notes than the chapter, due to the PANDAS stuff, but full send I guess.)
Xoxo, Blossom
Chapter 9: Sirius Is His Fun Friend, Not His Therapist
Chapter Text
James Potter - Iowa, Regulus’ Sophomore Year Of High School (Fall)
James pulls his helmet off, his hair sticking to his face with sweat. He slides his mouth guard out, a string of saliva attached that he slurps back into his mouth. The other guys bump shoulders with him, silent acknowledgments and praise. James won them the game today, and they know it. Sirius tackles him in a bear hug, the two of them careening their way to the locker room, arms across each others’ shoulders.
“You fricking killed it!” Sirius says, jostling James, shoving him towards his locker. There’s an electric rush that comes with playing sports, but it’s ten times better when he gets to play with Sirius by his side.
“Thanks, man.” James smiles, a press of his lips, a lift of his cheeks. They hit the showers, and James cranks his all the way warm, his skin turning red from the pleasant burn that eases his tight muscles. When he gets out, there’s too much steam, and James has to swipe at the mirror to see his reflection enough to peel out his contact lenses, settling his glasses back onto his nose before toweling his hair dry. He slips his pants on, remaining shirtless as he rifles through his things, shoving his dirty uniform into his gym bag.
A few of the guys comment on his good game , and James beams. It was a good game, the rival team from Beauxbatons no match for them, starting James’ junior year season with a bang. He knows he’s good at football, and he likes that other people know it too.
James slides his shirt on. “We heading to Hagrid’s?” An all night diner, their post football win tradition.
Sirius pauses where he was sliding a belt through his jean loops. “I’m not sure if I can make it.”
“What?” James sits on the bench between lockers, lacing up his sneakers.
“I drove Regulus to the game.” Sirius says. “He’s waiting for me outside.”
James waves him off. “Just invite him.”
Sirius hesitates, shoving his arms through his shirt sleeves and taking a seat next to James. The locker room has mostly cleared out by now, so they wait for the last group of guys to vacate, James promising they’ll meet them there— after I convince Sirius he mentally tacks on.
“What’s going on?” James asks, turning to face his friend.
Sirius twists a lock of his hair around one finger, winding it and releasing it, forming a curl from the wet strands. “Have you noticed that Regulus has been a bit, I dunno, off lately?”
James hums, considering. He hasn’t seen much of Sirius’ younger brother recently. He’ll drive him to school sometimes, but he always sits in the back seat scrolling on his phone, and Sirius blasts the music too loud for them to have any meaningful conversations. He stood behind Reggie in the lunch line a few days ago, but again, they didn’t say anything beyond a hello of acknowledgment. Sure, he’s seen Regulus around, but they aren’t close. They don’t talk.
“James?” Sirius presses, releasing another ringlet of black hair from his fingers.
“I don’t think so?” It comes out as a question, so he tries again. “I mean, I think you’d know more than I would. Why? Has he said something?”
“It’s what he isn’t saying.” Sirius sighs, abandoning his careful twisting to push his hands through his hair. “You know he gets panic attacks sometimes.” He says it like he’s sure. Like there’s no question on whether or not James knows.
James nods. He’s known since Reggie was a freshman, but he’s never mentioned it to Sirius. Reggie seemed sure that Sirius never noticed, or cared, but James thinks he just didn’t want Sirius’ brand of help. He loves his best friend, but he can be a lot sometimes, not the best at overt displays of emotion, good or bad. It took ages for James to get him to accept an arm over his shoulder, let alone the hugs they’re accustomed to now. He’s only cried in front of Sirius twice, once when he got a concussion during the last week of football camp, and once when he had a bit of a panic attack of his own during their sophomore year.
It was a bake sale, a fundraiser for the various sports teams, and the players were expected to work the booths to entice parents and students to donate. James had spent the whole day paranoid about there being nuts in the brownies he was serving, even though the mom who had baked them assured him there were none. He worked himself up so bad, that when a kid came up with his mother, eating a peanut butter blossom from another table while he handed James a wad of cash with his other hand, he panicked. In fear of allergens transferring via the kid’s dollars, James bolted from the table, his heart racing, and he burst into tears the second he made it to the parking lot.
Of course, Sirius had seen him run out and chased after him, but seeing James in such a state made him flounder. He patted James on the back awkwardly, a stiff palm rubbing rigid circles. At the sight of him wiping his tears on his shirt sleeve, Sirius started crying, and James had to stifle his outburst to comfort him instead. He’s learnt to lean elsewhere for the hardcore emotional stuff. Sirius is his fun friend, not his therapist.
“I know about Reggie.” James says, adding verbal confirmation. “Is he feeling anxious? Should I say something?”
Sirius tenses, his eyes widening. “No, no, forget I said anything.”
“Are you sure?” James asks. “It’s no big deal.” I’ve helped him before .
“Yeah, I’m probably making a big deal out of nothing.” Sirius brushes him off, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll invite him. Let’s go.”
James agrees, because Sirius does have a tendency to worry too much, especially about his brother. They deserve to relax anyway, after crushing it so hard today. James just wishes his parents could have been in the crowd to see it, but with everything going on with his Aunt Julie, his mom flew out to California for the week to help out, and his dad had work. It’s ok, they’ll watch the videos Sirius’ dad took– he’s always recording their games, making Sirius study them for improvements. Mr. Black played the sport himself, all through college, and was nearly drafted too, but once he got engaged to Mrs. Black he gave it all up for the family and kids thing. He says that being a businessman was always the plan, but James can see when talks about it that he was passionate about football, the same way he is. Well, maybe not the same. James can’t imagine giving up playing for anything.
When they make it to the hallway, Sirius runs ahead to Reggie, who’s leaning against a wall, scrolling on his phone with wired earbuds in his ears. James tries to stop, but Sirius urges him forward, so he doesn’t push it, heading out to his minivan and turning onto the main road.
His mom always complains about driving in Des Moines, but James doesn’t mind it, at least without snow. The roads get icy in the winter, and James is always late to school because he forgets to leave time to defreeze his windshield. Now though, in the transition phase between summer and autumn, he doesn’t mind it. There’s a mix of farmland and suburban homes and family owned general stores– one of which he works at, pushing grocery carts into the parking lot and helping families fill their trunks with paper bags of fresh produce. He likes driving past neighborhood joints, looking into the windows and recognizing the folks that work there. He thinks his mom only hates driving around here because she’s supposed to be wearing glasses that she always leaves at home. He gets his bad eyesight from her side of the family.
James has been going to Hagrid’s since forever, so he gets greeted by name when he walks in, and the owner, Rubeus, winks at him, praising him for his win today and promising he’ll add that mix of cajun spices to the fries that James likes so much. It’s not on the menu, but he’ll make an exception on what he deems a special occasion. James glows a little on the inside at his high school football win being deemed special .
He shoots a text off to his mom, letting her know the team won.
She replies almost instantly, a slew of sparkling hearts and words of encouragement, regrets at her missing it, pleas for Orion’s video footage. She’s never missed one of his games before.
He asks after Aunt Julie, then clicks his phone off before reading her response. That can wait until he’s sitting in the parking lot after tonight wraps up.
He joins the other guys from the team, sitting at a long table, made up of several smaller ones pushed together, taking up the center of the restaurant. The surrounding booths and four-tops are mostly family members and supporters of the players, everyone there to celebrate the team. James isn’t even captain, but the head of table was clearly saved for him, Frank sitting along the side, beckoning him over. Rubeus serves him a rootbeer before he can even order.
“What took you so long!” Frank says, more of an exasperated statement than a true question. “I think we’ve got a real shot at the championship this year.”
James pounds his straw on the table to make it shoot up from the wrapper, then he blows the paper towards Frank. “With you as captain I’m sure of it. You’re totally getting scouted this year.”
Frank nods. “Actually, yeah. Coach said there have been a few inquiries, so expect some important people to be watching this season.” He stretches his arms back to support his head, leaning further into his chair, a gesture that says casual and cool .
“Yeah, watching you .” James rolls his eyes.
Frank shrugs. “It’ll be you next year, and they won’t bother then if you don’t impress them now.”
James blinks. He supposes that makes sense, but it adds a semblance of pressure he hadn’t felt till now. He has to get scouted, because if he’s not scouted then there’s no way he’ll be able to play in college, and if he doesn’t play in college then there’s really no way he’ll make it to the nfl, and if he’s not in the nfl, then what’s the point? If football isn’t his life, what is?
Sirius arrives then, slipping into the seat on James’ other side. “Frank, would you mind?” He nods his head to an empty seat a few chairs down, asking him to make room for Reggie.
“Sure.” Frank stands up, patting James on the shoulder as he goes.
Sirius looks at his brother, then the empty chair, but Reggie doesn’t sit right away, shooting a glance at Arthur in the next chair. James gets it then, that he’s nervous sitting between him and a guy he doesn’t know well, so James moves over to the corner seat, vacating the head of the table for Reggie to sit on the end, James and Sirius on either corner.
“Rubeus promised he’d make his spiced french fries.” James says, creating a casual conversation with Sirius, directing attention away from Reggie to coax him into sitting.
It works, the younger boy settles down, sandwiched between James and Sirius, his shoulders still raised to his ears with tension.
“Bless that man, I would do unspeakable things for those fries.” Sirius all but moans, glancing back towards the kitchen.
James slides his root beer over to Regulus, offering it for him to take, not once breaking eye contact with Sirius. “There’ll be scouts this season. Frank says they’ll be there for him, but that they’ll take note of promising juniors for next year, to see if it’s worth coming back out for them.”
Sirius hums. “Yeah, makes sense.”
Reggie takes a sip of the root beer, and it doesn’t escape James’ notice how he wipes the mouth of the straw with a napkin beforehand, but at least he’s drinking it. It’s a small win, but James still has to fight a smile at the fact that his distraction technique is clearly working.
He keeps it up, asking Sirius, “You planning to play college ball?”
Rubeus comes by then, several baskets of spiced french fries get placed sporadically across the table, and the server behind him sets down family style trays of burgers and chicken sandwiches.
Sirius loads up his plate, snagging a fry and licking his fingers after. “I dunno. I don’t think I see myself doing sports for life.”
James scoops up some fries of his own, then grabs Reggie’s plate to get some for him. “I do.”
“As if that wasn’t obvious.” Reggie cuts in, accepting his plate from James. He refuses the offer of ketchup, squinting at his food.
James ignores the dig, directing his next question to Sirius, “If not football, then whaddya wanna do?”
Sirius shoves another fry in his mouth, not bothering to finish chewing as he says, “I dunno. We’ve got time though, no reason to fixate.”
James nods, and the conversation turns to the creek party this weekend. He keeps up with the topic, offering to drive his buddies in his minivan, but his mind is stuck on Sirius’ comment. He doesn’t think planning means he’s fixating . James has wanted to play football since he was a kid, and just because his best friend is the indecisive, change-your-major-at-least-three-times type doesn’t mean he has to downplay his plans. Envisioning the future just makes it more likely to turn out how he imagines it, at least that’s what his dad says. James’ dad always tells him that he had his whole life imagined at age sixteen, that he got a vision of his wife, son, house, job, and did all it took to get that dream. James is sixteen now, and all he’s ever dreamed of is football.
Notes:
Wow ok this story has a life of its own. This was supposed to be a simple idea dump fic, and now it's all complex and woven and I just can't stop. I think I may edit the fic description or the very first chapter notes.
James POV!!!! I knew we had to have it as soon as I wrote the Alphard POV... I thought this fic was gonna be just Reg, but I couldn't help myself and now here we are. I love head hopping, and it's even more fun when we get to time hop as well. I knew choosing the time (the specific moment even) to have a James POV come in was going to mean something, and I think I got it right. This is practically right before Reg goes to London... possibly days before Sirius calls Alphard, if we're getting specific.
This James is so so different from my James in my other fic "I Put A Spell On You ('cause you're mine)"... that James is twenty-eight and more mature and extremely logical. Literally majored in Art History and is a conservator for museums, owns a townhouse, the whole lot. This one, well he's sixteen. I love love loved portraying James' awareness of Reg's anxiety, and how he just 'acts normal' because sometimes that is just what people need. Trying to reconcile this James, with the James we see in Uni from Reg's POV is a fun mind twist: how much of his personality differences are because of the time passed? and how many are just because that's Reg's POV?
There are the beginning threads of James' own story, life, family, plans, etc. I figured since I'm all invested in this world and these versions of these characters, I may as well commit and make them each well-rounded. We will learn more about James and his parents and his Aunt Julie-- in due time.
I know we may miss "current day" Reg, but there's a purpose to that.
OH! And honorable mention to seeing high school Sirius through James' eyes. Think about it: the Sirius that Reg sees on that NYE is not that far from this one in age... again is it time or the person's POV/bias? What are your thoughts on that question?
Ok, I'm rambling. Leave a comment if you want :)
Xoxo, Blossom
Chapter 10: Past Luncheons
Notes:
This chapter was a beast-- it may be the longest one so far?
Fun fact: I listened to The Winner Takes It All by ABBA on a literal loop while drafting the last 1/4 of this chapter. Idk what possessed me, but I think it made me speedier.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Regulus Black - Hogwarts University, Sophomore Year (Fall)
Sirius’ apartment building is hard to navigate. The lighting is dim, so reading any direction-based signage is difficult, plus, there’s an overwhelming number of college students that have no business trying to parallel park on the street. At least Sirius wasn’t lying, it’s not far from campus, so Regulus was able to walk from his dorm building, glad he decided to forgo a costume because he got catcalled a few times anyways despite the thick cable knit sweater he’s wearing. He won’t have to walk home since Remus is meeting him, so he’ll get a ride back at least.
It was unexpected, when Sirius invited Regulus to come to his halloween party, but maybe it shouldn’t have been. His older brother has been trying lately, stopping by Owlery, texting him, they’ve even gotten lunch a few times, and one dinner after Sirius deemed them past luncheons . Lunch is one of those things their parents used to host, and it was always telling, the way that the people invited for luncheon were never close enough to get invited to dinner. Lunch is for breakups and awkward reunions.
They’ve kept their conversations fairly surface level, catching up on social lives and opinions and missed moments. Regulus learns that Sirius switched his major four times before landing on the medicine route– the tales from the half a semester of equestrian studies are the cherry on top, a video of Sirius falling off a horse making him cry with laughter. His brother even pulls out this collection of notes on his phone, things he’s written down over the years that he wanted to talk to Regulus about at the time, but didn’t. It’s dumb things like music and celebrities and Taylor Swift’s football boyfriend– which Regulus is in full support of, even if he doesn’t watch American football. It makes him feel warm, that Sirius was thoughtful enough to write down these things once their contact fizzled out. That’s what they don’t talk about: the whole Not Talking period. Regulus is sure they’ll get there eventually, but he’s not eager to push for that.
There’s music pulsating from several units, the hallway becoming a strange bleed through zone of different songs mixing together. The overlapping music means more than a few parties are happening, which means Sirius and his roommates live in one of those complexes where everyone is a partier. Regulus supposes that means no noise complaints, which is good for Sirius if he still sings in the shower like he did as a kid.
He turns another corner, unsure of the numbering system for the apartment doors because it seems to be in no particular order. Thirty-two, seventeen, ten-
“Oh my gosh!” a voice all but squeals, making Regulus turn around. “Regulus Black?”
Regulus shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah?”
The girl is dressed as some kind of vampire-witch hybrid, faux fangs stuck to her canines, a black cloak around her shoulders. “Sirius is going to be so thrilled you’ve made it.”
Regulus clicks his tongue in recognition. “You’re one of my brother’s friends.”
“Right!” she smiles, revealing her pearly white fangs which blend perfectly into her real teeth, both an unnatural shade of white. She’s probably one of those girls that uses whitening toothpaste and bleach strips. “I’m Lily. Nice to finally meet you.”
“You too.” Regulus says, shifting his weight between his feet in an effort to make Lily start walking. Standing in the hall is making this interaction more awkward than it needs to be.
She gets the hint, leading the way down another corridor. “I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity.” it’s clear even without seeing her face she’s smiling, Regulus can hear it in her voice. “Your brother talks about you all the time.”
That makes Regulus falter, he pauses mid step. “He does?”
“Oh, sure.” Lily pauses in front of what must be Sirius’ unit, turning to face Regulus. “Every story he tells is about the two of you growing up. Then, when other people tell stories, he’s always connecting it back to you, saying things like, ‘oh my brother would hate that, or one time my brother and I-’ and so on and so forth.”
Regulus just blinks at her. It’s weird to come face to face with someone you’ve never met acting like they know you. Maybe she was spot on with that celebrity comment, because Regulus is sure this is what it feels like when Taylor Swift gets stopped on the street for a photograph. It hits him then, that Sirius didn’t just invite him over, but he invited him to meet all of his friends. How many others are going to recognize him from his brother’s description? Oh, god. What is his brother’s description?
He doesn’t have time to dwell on that, because Lily pushes the door open, guiding Regulus into his first glimpse of his brother’s apartment. James’ apartment too, he realizes, spotting the pile of shoes at the front door, the red converse James wears to class piled amongst black boots (Sirius) and respectable golf shoes (their third roommate). It’s pure chaos, the party already in full swing, because Regulus has a habit of being late– something he developed during high school, Mary Macdonald drilling into him the importance of being fashionably late. Not on time, because no one is having fun yet, but not so late that the fun is over and done with . He’s mastered that art by now, and it seems Lily has too. She wastes no time inserting herself into the fold, doling out one-armed hugs to people that stop her to compliment her attire. Regulus doesn’t think it’s that good of a costume, but he didn’t even dress up, so he supposes he doesn’t get to judge.
He decides to find Sirius right away, because they’re both trying, and he has to meet him halfway. It’s not a dense crowd, a handful of people in the kitchen mixing drinks, everyone else piled onto the couch and what are clearly desk chairs that have been dragged into the living room area. It’d be a relatively open floor plan if the counter dividing the living room and kitchen didn’t exist, but there’s a bit of a window connecting the spaces, creating a bar-like energy, people passing drinks from the kitchen to the stools on the other side of the counter. It’s not the rager he expected, nothing like the parties Sirius didn’t invite him to in high school.
Regulus makes his way to the living room, sneaking around the couch to ambush Sirius from behind. He’s perched on an ottoman, dressed in red coveralls and a matching baseball hat. Some others are sitting on the rug, and The Nightmare Before Christmas is playing on mute on the tv, the sound dominated by a wireless speaker hidden somewhere, one of those super club-y songs blasting– Charli XCX or Troy Sivan or someone.
“Boo.” Regulus places his hands on his brother’s shoulders, relishing in the way he jumps at the motion, turning over his shoulder to make eye contact.
“Regulus!” Sirius’ shock turns to a smile, and he budges over so Regulus can sit next to him, and even though the seat is a squeeze for two people, he joins him, their legs pressed together. “Everyone, this is my brother, Regulus.”
There’s a group reaction, everyone’s eyes widening in recognition, some people’s jaws going slack. The consensus is clear, they’ve all heard of Regulus. There’s a chorus of hellos and he’s introduced to Kingsley, Severus, and Emmeline. Then Marlene, who he knows from Owlery, and the third roommate, Peter, who stands up, offering to get him a drink.
“No, thanks.” Sirius says on his behalf.
Regulus raises his eyebrows. “Since when do you speak for me?”
The room shifts, uncomfortable because of the bite in Regulus’ tone, but they’ve never seen the Black brothers interact before. They’ve no idea that this is his easygoing tone.
Sirius rolls his eyes. “You don’t drink.”
Regulus laughs, loud. “You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“Peter, I’ll take one.” Regulus decides, enjoying the way his brother’s eyebrows climb to his hairline.
Peter starts to move, but he freezes when Sirius says, “No, he won’t.”
“Yes, I will.” Regulus disagrees, and Peter moves again.
“Pete, I swear to god.” Sirius threatens, and his roommate sinks into his spot on the couch. “You’re my little brother, so you can’t drink in front of me.”
Regulus scoffs. “But you can drink in front of me?”
Sirius takes a swing from the bottle in his hands, biting back a smirk as he swallows.
Peter mouths an I’m sorry , and Lily comes in from the kitchen with a can of soda for him, having overheard the conversation. She situates herself next to Severus on the ground, passing him a beer.
The conversation turns to everyone’s classes and professors, and Regulus can’t help but think that this party is just a little bit lame. His London friends would be making fun of this whole group, the way they’ve all dressed in costumes just to sit around and drink beer. Pandora would bemoan the lack of dancing, Mary would criticize the deficiency of fit blokes, and Evan would’ve pulled him aside for a smoke break by now. Thinking about smoking makes him notice a faint weed smell emanating from the kitchen, which must be the hub for the stoners. A quick glance confirms it, a handful of people gathered by the oven, the microwave fan on full blast, working overtime to suck up the tendrils of smoke.
“Ok, is everyone here?” Emmeline pouts, crossing her arms across her lace corset. “I’m ready to get things going.” She’s got devil ears on a headband and red fishnet tights creeping up her legs. It’s obvious that she’s one of those girls that uses halloween as an excuse to be raunchy.
“Yeah, I think so.” Peter nods, standing up and offering his hand to Emmeline. He’s dressed as an angel, the clear parallel to Emmeline’s look.
The group clambers up, the girls straightening their costumes and reapplying lip gloss.
Sirius starts to stand, but Regulus tugs on his arm, pulling him back down to ask, “What’s happening?”
“We’re getting this show on the road.” Sirius says, nudging Regulus to stand.
“Already?” Regulus glances at his watch. “My friend was gonna meet me here. You said that was fine.”
Sirius shushes him. “Reg, I said that’s fine and it is.”
“What, you want him to stop by just to drive me home?” Regulus says, that high school feeling coming back. The one time Sirius invites him to a party and it doesn’t even last until eleven.
Sirius’ eyes widen, and he starts laughing, which does not help Regulus’ mood. Oh, he’s livid now, his ears heating up with his anger. The group has gathered in the kitchen, Peter pouring what must be one last shot for everyone.
“Sirius.” Regulus bites out, fuming.
“Woah, calm down.” He stops his laughter. “You didn’t think this was the party, right?”
Regulus doesn’t answer that, because it’s clear he did.
“Reg, this was the pregame.” Sirius explains. “Party’s down by the complex’s pool.”
“What?”
“It’s a whole thing.” his brother continues, “The whole building hosts their own pregrames, then we all gather by the pool to merge into one, like, mega party.”
“Oh.” he feels stupid now. Embarrassed. Sirius ruffles his hair, and Regulus squirms away, smoothing down his curls.
“Let’s go.” Sirius downs a shot with the others, then downs the one poured for Regulus before he can grab it.
He’s shoved out the door with the rest of the group, and it seems like other pre games have the same idea, different doors opening sending more people pouring out into the hall. Regulus follows the herd, realizing now that someone is missing. He almost asks Sirius, but he doesn’t want to open a can of worms, so he pulls Peter aside instead.
“Where’s James?” Regulus asks, his voice a low whisper amongst the crowd.
“Oh, he had to stop by another pre game.” Peter explains, and Regulus is not satisfied with that answer. He was looking forward to seeing James tonight, and now he has no indication of whether he’s planning to show up late, or not at all.
Regulus didn’t talk to James about Sirius inviting him, but he assumes Sirius told him. He hasn’t seen James since his allergic reaction a couple of weeks ago, besides across the room during English lectures, and Regulus doesn’t know how to feel about that. James was the one who suggested that the two of them get to know each other , yet he hasn’t reached out once since then, and sure, Regulus agreed and the phone goes both ways, but he’s already balancing the whole Sirius thing. Reintroducing one relationship while balancing misconceptions from another is a lot for one person, and as much as Regulus doesn’t want to admit it, he’s scared– of letting James know him, of having the image of his brother’s best friend crumble, he isn’t sure.
If anything were going to crumble the picture perfect image of James Potter, it should have been an allergic reaction, but that only made him seem endearing. It was odd seeing James so vulnerable, but not in a bad way. It was just new. Regulus wonders if James relying on him in an emergency made him feel like he owes him something in return– something like promising to see him as a whole person, outside of Sirius’ shadow.
The more he thinks about it, the less it makes sense that James would want to know him at all. Maybe James was just trying to be nice, but that doesn’t make sense, not really. He’s never gone out of his way to save Regulus’ feelings before, so why would he start now? They aren’t friends, they never were, but maybe they could be. Except, Regulus has known of James for the better part of his life– if they were ever going to be friends, it should have happened already, right? Does James think they’re friends? After so many years of history, the word friends should make sense, but it just doesn’t feel right. It’s too easy, too simple, for what they are.
In a sudden burst of confidence, that he can’t even blame on alcohol, Regulus pulls out his phone, sorting through his years of contacts and finding James’ number from high school. When he opens the text thread, there are messages from high school, mostly back and forths of here! and coming. from moments of James driving Regulus home after school with Sirius. He’s not sure why he never deleted the thread, but he ignores that thought, shooting off a text to ask James if he’s joining their group tonight, then another to update Remus on the change of plans, just as the Halloween Town mob that’s been guiding him disperses around the apartment’s outdoor pool.
There’s a bluetooth speaker playing music, something electric eighties-esque, a synth back beat Regulus recognizes as The 1975. A lineup of pong tables are stretched across a patch of grass, and several members of the group from Sirius’ apartment insert themselves into different rounds, others content to watch and make bets. There are loads of people all drinking, some dancing on a section of covered patio, all the pool furniture pushed out and scattered around the pool deck for people to lounge and chat. It’s exactly the type of party Regulus was expecting his brother to inhabit, and part of that feels like vindication. He doesn’t know everything about Sirius anymore, but he does know some things.
Regulus finds tall cans of beer and skinny cans of white claw, but there’s only mango ones left, so he goes for the beer. Someone taps his left shoulder, but when he turns to look, Sirius sneaks in on his right and snatches his can out of his hands.
“Sirius.” Regulus goes to grab it back, but his brother reacts quickly, popping the tab and sending him a cheeky wink, the bastard.
“Enjoy the party.” Sirius says, chugging his stolen beer. “If you need me just-”
Regulus cuts him off with a raise of his finger, pausing his brother while he answers the phone ringing in his pocket. “Remus, hi.”
“I’m by the pool, where are you?” Remus says, and Sirius mouths, who is that?
Regulus waves him off as he scans the crowd, spotting Remus by the gate. “I see you! Stay there, I’ll come to you.” He slips his phone back into his pocket once Remus agrees, cutting across the pool deck to open the gate.
“This is Dorcas’ complex.” Remus says, stepping through the gate. He’s dressed as a cowboy, suede vest and hat in matching shades of beige. He’s got a deputy badge on one side of his chest, and a large gold-buckled belt slipped through the loops of his jeans, but the kicker is his lack of cowboy boots, his usual converse peeking out from his bell bottoms.
“You think she’s here?” Regulus asks, examining the crowd for their coworker.
“I dunno.” Remus shrugs. “She could be. We don’t talk much outside of work.”
“Us either.” Regulus agrees.
A cough draws his attention to Sirius, who is hovering behind him, one hand in the pocket of his red jumpsuit, the arms tied around his waist.
“Oh, this is my brother.” Regulus steps aside, letting Sirius occupy the space beside him.
It doesn’t escape his notice, the way Remus’ eyes widen, his brows lifting in surprise. He sends Regulus a look, one that means You have never before mentioned that you have a brother .
“My name’s Sirius.” He says, sticking out his hand.
Remus shakes it, playing it cool. “Remus. Nice to meet you.” He shoots Regulus another glance, but doesn’t comment on the shock of Sirius’ existence.
“I like your costume.” Sirius says, his cheeks lifting into a smile. “Very Brokeback Mountain.”
“Thanks.” Remus laughs. “I like yours, though I’m not sure what it is if I’m honest.”
Sirius sighs, an audible show of annoyance. “It’ll make more sense when James gets here.”
Regulus files that info away, the assurance of James making an appearance. He hasn’t replied to the text Regulus sent, but if he’s planning on showing up that’s all that matters. The thought strikes him that he hasn’t been around both James and Sirius together since high school.
“He could be around somewhere already.” Remus proposes, eyes scanning the crowd for familiar faces. He doesn’t find Sirius, but he does point out Dorcus on one of the pool loungers, explaining that the people she’s with are some form of study group she’s in, and though he said they don’t talk much outside of work, Remus can name each of the friends she’s sitting with.
It turns out that Remus has something to say about each and every person here— the people Regulus would tune out or write off as extras, Remus has opinions on all of them, and if he doesn’t have firsthand knowledge, he’s heard rumors. There are people he’s had classes with, patrons of Owlery, students he’s watched in the library or passed in the courtyard. He also has a knack for uncovering truths based on physicality alone, pointing out group dynamics from afar: that girl is into that guy or can’t you tell he’s only wearing that costume because his buddies forced him to or those two hooked up at orientation and are clearly avoiding each other now . He gets more vocal about his observations as he loosens up, his third can of beer making Regulus have to shush him so partygoers don’t overhear, even with the pulsing music.
Barty would like Remus, Regulus thinks. He’s always hungry for gossip and slander, the vindictive foil to Remus, adding fuel to rumors instead of prefacing them with this is just what I’ve heard , like Remus does. It’s clear that Sirius is entertained, or at least he’s pretending to be, chiming in with fact confirmation or gasping when something juicy gets said about someone he knows. Regulus doesn’t know if he’s being nice to Remus for his sake or not.
The night goes on like that, Remus feeding them gossip about all the other people, and Sirius snatching drinks out of Regulus’ hand, or else getting others to do it for him. Remus even claims a new can from him, handing Regulus his empty one before popping the tab. Sirius sends him an approving nod, and it would be impressive, the way he stops Regulus from consuming even a drop of alcohol, if it weren’t so annoying.
“What about me?” Sirius says, cutting off Remus’ appraisal of a man he’s deemed frat boy adjacent– white shoes, vape pen, but lacking the classic Vineyard Vines linen shorts.
“Hmm?” Remus turns to face him.
“What have you observed about me?” Sirius muses, pressing the rim of his cup to his lips, covering a smile.
Remus lets out a low whistle. “I don’t wanna read you too hard.”
Sirius laughs, circling a finger over the mouth of his cup. “Well, now I must know.”
Remus leans towards him, the edges of his cowboy hat meeting Sirius’ brow bone as he looks, making Sirius squirm under his attention. He milks it, flitting his eyes up and down once more before licking his lips and leaning back, arms crossed. “You care.”
Sirius takes two steps back, as if those words are a physical blow. “What?”
“You care.” Remus repeats, swallowing the last of the tall can he stole from Regulus. “What people think, how they see you.”
Sirius is trying to be nonchalant, but Regulus sees the way his mouth tightens, a result of him biting the inside of his cheeks. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Sure.” Remus agrees. “You care about people too.” He looks at Regulus as he says it, and Sirius does too. “You care for them or at least you try.”
Sirius, still looking at Regulus, nods. “I do.”
Regulus feels the corners of his mouth twitch, the ghost of a smile aching to show, but there’s an inside ache too. This crushing feeling rises in his chest when he thinks about Sirius caring for him from a distance, educating his friends on his illness, dedicating his life to helping kids with autoimmune disorders. Kids like you , he’d said. Regulus doesn’t know if it’s guilt or passion that drives Sirius, but he’s not ready to examine his brother’s life choices quite so close just yet.
“Your turn.” Remus interrupts their staring contest, both their eyes flitting over to him. “What have you observed about me?”
Sirius smiles, glad for a distraction from their tension, and Regulus sends Remus a grateful nod. He knows his friend saved them on purpose, so Regulus ejects himself from the conversation, walking around the pool deck to find his own distraction.
His distraction comes in the form of James Potter, dressed as the counterpart to Sirius, both repping Ferrari red as Formula One drivers. James pulls it off better, but that might be because he’s actually got the racing coveralls on properly, showing the team logo instead of wearing it shrugged off and around his waist like Sirius. He skipped out on the hat, opting to let his wild, dark waves free to puff up in the humidity. He’s got a can of white claw in his hands, hanging idle at his side after he takes a sip. Regulus gets the impulse to press his lips to the can, maybe let James tip the liquid into his mouth-
“Regulus!” James catches him staring, excusing himself from his conversation with Lily and Peter to approach him. “Let me see.” He trails his gaze up and down Regulus’ body, surveying his lack of a costume. “Harry?”
“Huh?” Regulus squints, trying to ignore the way James’ eyes linger on his midsection.
“Your costume.” James clarifies, and his lips fold into his mouth in an attempt at holding back a smile.
Regulus has to physically shake his head, like an etch a sketch, a tick to try and erase the memory of James’ old high school smile. That one was so similar, it sent Regulus back in time.
“Reggie?” James says, oblivious to his trip down memory lane, and really only paving the path by using that nickname.
“I’m not wearing a costume.” Regulus manages. “This is just me.”
“Oh.” James laughs. “Well, you look just like that scene in When Harry Met Sally , you know, when they’re rolling out that rug?”
He does know. That’s why he bought this sweater. “You like that movie?”
James nods. “Sure. I love all those little mockumentary bits, the happy couple stories.”
It’s Regulus’ turn to smile. “Rob Reiner, that’s the director.” he clarifies at James’ confusion. “He collected all these stories from real married couples, and then actors were hired to tell them.”
“Wow.” James smiles for real now, his new, genuine, bright teethed one. “I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, and Nora Ephron, the writer, she wrote You’ve Got Mail and the Bewitched movie and Julie and Julia -”
“That’s the one with-”
“Amy Adams.” Regulus cuts him off, but it’s playful, his excitement getting the better of him. “After my friend Pandora watched it she became obsessed with learning to cook. She made all sorts of dishes for us— went cover to cover through an entire recipe book. Most of them turned out like shit, but we ate ‘em anyways. Just to make her smile, ya know? ”
“Yeah. ” James agrees. “Like that one Thanksgiving when I made those brownies and you all pretended to love them, even though I over poured the baking soda.”
Regulus huffs a laugh, nodding his agreement. “They really were terribly gritty. ”
“I wasn’t sure you were gonna be here. No one ever said.” James changes the subject abruptly, catching him off guard. Is he upset that Regulus is here?
“You mean Sirius never said.” Regulus corrects. “And I wasn’t sure you’d be here either. We were up in your flat and everything, and you were nowhere to be found.”
“Oh, really?”
“The only remnant of your existence were your shoes.”
James blinks. “You knew which shoes were mine?”
Regulus almost rolls his eyes, it’s a true effort to hold himself back. “We see each other in class twice a week. You wear the same shoes everyday.”
“I could never tell you what shoes anyone is wearing ever.” James says, looking down at their feet to catch a glimpse of Regulus’ footwear.
“Shoe choice is one of the first things I notice about someone.” Regulus says, making sure James knows he’s not special. He notices everyone’s shoes.
James hums, finishing off his mango white claw. “What else have you noticed?”
That question is dangerous, so Regulus decides to reinterpret it. “The way the moonlight is reflecting off the pool. It looks really cinematic, don’t you think?”
If James is surprised by his clunky segue, he doesn’t say anything, just shoots a quick glance to the pool. “Sure.”
“No, you have to really look.” Regulus insists. “Right there, by the step.”
James pushes his glasses up his nose, making a show of looking where Regulus directs him.
“See? The light is almost like a spotlight, the ripples are all highlighted, and you can see the people reflected back in certain sections, the colors of their costumes all swirling, it’s like a watercolor painting.” Regulus uses his hands to paint a picture, and James tracks the movement, his chin tilting with the motions. “If I had my camera, I’d photograph it.”
James shoves a hand in his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Here, take one.”
Regulus wrinkles his nose. “It’s not the same.”
“Would you still? For me?” James offers up his phone, and Regulus accepts it, opening the camera application. James has a newer phone than him, but it’s clear he hasn’t messed with his camera settings much. Regulus asks if he can change them, promising it’ll mean better photos, and James agrees, letting him do what he wants.
He makes some changes in settings, and turns on the grid before walking to the edge of the pool, testing angles. He’s aware of James watching him, studying his movements, but he tries not to focus on that. He’s just taking a photo.
Regulus squats down near the deep end, adjusting his hold on James’ phone to get the composition he wants. Once he’s satisfied, he adjusts the exposure and snaps the shot.
“Here.” Regulus holds the phone over his head in offering, and he feels more than sees James bend down next to him, accepting his phone back, their fingers brushing for a moment. He can feel James’ body heat, even through his sweater, and there’s a slight buzzing feeling that grows as he feels breath on his neck. James starts to place his hand on Regulus’ shoulder, a startling move that makes Regulus flinch, sending him backwards into the pool with a splash.
The water is freezing, and the shock of it makes Regulus inhale a mouthful, his lungs burning. It tastes like chlorine and chemicals, and his eyes sting when he opens them. His body is paralyzed for a moment before his brain kicks back in, telling him to swim for the surface. It takes him a few moments to ascend the twelve foot distance, and when he surfaces, he’s sputtering and coughing and trying to catch his breath. He blinks a few times to adjust his vision, finding the right direction to move.
He places his elbows on the pool deck, pushes his wet hair out of his eyes, and feels immediately embarrassed when his hearing kicks back and he tunes into James asking if he’s ok. Lots of people are staring, looming over him with concerned expressions. He knows there must be rumors starting that he drank so much he swayed into the pool like a drunken sailor. Not to mention James, who’s still talking, telling people to give him space.
Regulus coughs some more, accepting James’ hand to pull himself out of the water. “Thanks. Sorry.” He manages, letting James guide him to a lounge chair.
“No, don’t apologize.” James insists, sitting down next to him. “You alright? Did you hit your head?”
His sweater feels ten pounds heavier, and his jeans are clinging to his body. His socks and shoes are soaked through. “Nothing ruined but my pride.” He winces, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “And my cellphone.”
“Oh, shit.” James huffs out a humorless laugh. “I think we’ve got some rice upstairs.”
“Rice?”
“Yeah, it’s supposed to suck up all the water.” He stands, motioning for Regulus to follow. “Come on, we’ll stick your phone in some rice and get you a change of clothes. Throw these ones in the wash.”
“I dunno. Maybe I should just go home.” Regulus counters, feeling his embarrassment warming his body despite how frigid he is when the wind picks up.
“No way.” James insists, not giving him a choice as he starts walking, forcing Regulus to follow. They pass Lily, and she tilts her head in silent query, expressing concern for Regulus. James waves her off with a thumbs up, and Regulus notices another group of people praising her mediocre vampire costume.
“What’s so great about her costume?” Regulus whispers as they pass.
James takes the topic change in stride, opening the gate for them to exit. “Whaddya mean?”
“I mean, everyone is going gaga over a completely basic choice. You think Halloween, you think vampire. It’s not clever.” He does roll his eyes this time, crossing his arms to fight the chill from his soggy sweater. He leaves a trail of footprints on the cement, and drips water through the corridors.
“She’s in dental school.” James’ eyes crinkle behind his glasses. “I think it’s more ironic than original. Funny to people who know her, I guess.”
“Hmm, a bit of a cheap laugh, but understandable.”
James bursts into laughter at that, clutching his chest, then the wall to brace his body as he threatens to keel over.
“That wasn’t even a joke.” Regulus squeezes some water out of his sweater sleeve, letting it drip onto the cement in the corridor, giving a visual cue to James that he really is uncomfortable. If he stays outside much longer he may catch a cold.
“I know.” James gasps, catching his breath. “Just, you didn’t even dress up, so you critiquing her is quite funny.” He unlocks the door to his apartment, holding it open for Regulus.
He steps inside and kicks off his shoes, leaving them by the pile at the front door, peeling off his squelchy socks. James saunters off, disappearing into what must be a bedroom, and when he returns, Regulus has stripped off his sweater, leaving him in his undershirt and his jeans that are drying like cardboard, stiff and uncomfortable. He sets his waterlogged phone on the kitchen counter.
James freezes in the doorway, his eyes flicking down to the way Regulus’ white undershirt is clinging to his body. He clears his throat. “Here.” His movements are rigid as he thrusts a pile of folded clothes at Regulus, avoiding eye contact. “Bathroom’s over there.”
Regulus has the urge to make fun of him a bit. James grew up in locker rooms– he’s seen plenty of other guys shirtless, so he should have no reason to get this red in the face at a glimpse of Regulus in a wet t-shirt. Before he can think too much of it, Regulus pulls off the undershirt, slinging it over his shoulder, and reveling in the sputtering sounds that James attempts to cover with a cough. He goes the extra mile, sending James a wink as he accepts the clothes and steps into the bathroom, locking the door.
As soon as he’s alone, his sudden burst of confidence leaves him, and Regulus drops the clothes onto the shut toilet lid, his hands resting on the porcelain of the sink as he registers what he just did. What the fuck was he thinking? He just stripped and winked at James Potter. Why did he do that? He looks up at his reflection, and he can’t help but laugh at himself. He can’t even blame this burst of charisma on alcohol, his idiotic brother has made sure of that. It doesn’t make sense that Regulus would mess with James like that, but he just wanted to. The idea popped into his head, and he just went for it.
He pulls off his jeans, almost slipping as he tugs at the fabric that gets stuck on his calves. He squeezes excess water out of his curls, and does his best to scrunch them into place, before sifting through the clothes James gave him. It’s a matching set, sweatpants and a Hogwarts university sweatshirt. The joggers are a bit big, so he tightens the drawstrings all the way, but the sweatshirt is a comfortable sort of large, the same size as the one he bought for himself, since he likes his oversized. He doesn’t let himself linger, lumping his wet clothes together and emerging back into the living area.
He can hear James in the kitchen, so he tries to muster his earlier nonchalance and saunters towards him, settling on one of the barstools on the living room side of the counter.
James startles when he turns around, a bag of rice in his hands. “Oh, hey. Clothes fit alright?”
“Yeah.” Regulus says, realizing now that he’s wearing James’ clothes. “Thanks.”
“No worries.” James shrugs, pouring the rice into a bowl over Regulus’ phone, which he must have grabbed from the counter. “Hopefully this shall revive her.”
“Her?” Regulus raises his eyebrows. “You call inanimate objects her ?”
James rubs the back of his neck. “I picked it up from-” he pauses. “My best friend.”
“You mean Sirius.” Regulus deadpans, holding back a laugh at the sheepish expression he earns from James. “You know that I know who you’re talking about. It’s more weird when you don’t say it.”
James bites his lip, thinking, before stepping around the counter to grab Regulus’ clothes, leading him to a hall closet that opens to reveal a stacked washer and dryer. He tosses the clothes in.
“He picked it up from our dad, I think.” Regulus watches as James adds detergent, something free and clear and packaged in a little pod. “He used to call his cars by women’s names. Sirius would work in the garage with him, restoring old engines and matching vintage paint colors. When they finished a car, dad always came in saying ‘she’s a beaut, son’ making me come outside to see.”
“I didn’t know that.” James says, and his surprise looks genuine, as if learning any new tidbit about his best friend is shocking– which it probably is, with the way Sirius is such an open book, and with James having been around as long as he has.
“Yeah, well, I’m sure there’s lots you don’t know.” Regulus says, regretting it immediately. They’d made progress tonight, so why did he have to back track it?
“We’ve established that much.” James agrees. “Wanna head back out? I’m sure you’ve got one more drink in you, right?”
Regulus laughs. “We’ll be lucky if Sirius doesn’t snatch it out of my hands. He’s been intercepting me all night.”
James promises to stand guard, and the two of them head back out to the pool deck. They find Remus and his brother in the midst of a game of pong, settling in to watch with Peter and Emmeline. Regulus is able to down two entire cans of beer before the game ends, giving him a slight buzz. He can feel his cheeks rising of their own accord– he’s always been a smiley drunk, something Evan used to make fun of him for, sticking his pointer fingers into the dimples that form when his smile gets wide enough. He thinks about texting Evan, just to check in, but he’s a terrible texter when he’s tipsy, so he thinks better of it, not wanting to bother his friend with too many typos and over emoting with emojis– something he never even uses when he’s sober.
James decides to indulge in a round against Sirius, and Remus rejoins the group on the sidelines. He’s drunk-drunk, swaying where he stands, and speaking too loudly as he bets on James taking the victory. Regulus has the realization that they’re fucked in terms of Remus driving them home tonight.
Remus sidles up to Regulus, wiping sweat from his brow, his cowboy hat having been claimed and stolen by Sirius. “Why does your ass say Potter?”
Regulus whirls around, trying to get a look at his backside. “What?”
Remus laughs, too loud and too hearty. “You know what? Maybe I don’t wanna know.”
“Know what?” Regulus presses, finally pulling the fabric of his sweats enough to see that the back of them have been embroidered with James’s surname– something cheesy the campus store offers that Regulus thought no one would ever take them up on. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I support it.” Remus slurs, his arm wrapping around Regulus’ shoulders. “I knew it was complicated between the two of you. The tension in the car after the hospital was palpable.”
“Remus, what are you even talking about?” Regulus sighs, letting his friend rest his body weight on his shoulders.
“I’m talking about you and Potter, you know.” He may as well be winking with the tone he’s using, and he does waggle his eyebrows a bit to further his point.
“He gave me a change of clothes because mine got soaked.” Regulus slips out from Remus’ arm when he raises his eyebrows further, turning his words into an innuendo. He tugs him away from the group. “I fell in the pool!”
“That was you?” Remus’ eyes widen. “We all heard the commotion, but no one saw who it was.”
Regulus nods, closing his eyes in defeat. He’s got a headache building in his temples, and suddenly he’s thankful that Sirius stopped him from getting sloshed tonight. Two drinks plus emotional whiplash is enough for one evening.
“You don’t like him, then?” Remus asks, nudging him to open his eyes.
Regulus looks over at James who’s got beer dripping down his face as he chugs, beating Sirius in their pong face off. The two of them embrace anyways, the same tackle Sirius used to hit him with after they won a football game in high school. James throws his arm over Sirius’ shoulders, the two of them circling the table for his victory promenade.
“Reg?” Remus reclaims his attention, a smirk blooming on his face. “He put you in his clothes, you think that means he likes you?”
“Nah, he’s just being nice.” Regulus shakes his head. “He’s my brother’s best friend. I don’t even like him like that.”
Notes:
Fun fact: Regulus walking to Sirius' apartment was the first bit I wrote for this fic... before chapter one even. It was a random fragment I liked, but I knew it couldn't open this story, so I saved it until now.
Ok, so we are back to what I'm deeming "present day" Reg-- I missed him. I know that we have puzzle pieces missing surrounding him and his health and past, but also I really wanted to move forward the "current" timeline, since we've had so many flashbacks in recent chapters.
Let's appreciate Reg's growth!! Him at this party VS him having a panic attack at a high school party, even the spiraling of the spin the bottle party in London. Our boy has his moments, but he can hold his own now.
James. I have lots of things I could say, but I want your thoughts more. If you have thoughts/questions leave a comment-- I will most likely reply.
Remus <3 I am loving him in this fic guys! Him absolutely reading everyone (and Sirius) so hard-- that is literally me at parties. I did in fact call a man "frat boy adjacent" to his face at a bar recently so... I do love analyzing people/dynamics, and it felt right for Remus. Also!! Him not pressing Reg about his brother at all! KING BEHAVIOR because we know he was thrown and he is curious. (also, Sirius ending up wearing the cowboy hat)
Cowboy Remus and F1 Driver James and Sirius. Regulus not dressing up. Peter x Emmeline? Idk about that one.
Potter being embroidered on the sweatpants...
I hope you loved-- because this one was so hard to write! Party scenes are so fun but lots to juggle-- this chapter took several days to write, and lots of mental mapping of this apartment complex and all the people. I am very proud of this one, but also uploading without a full proofread at like 3 am, so I may skim it tomorrow lol.
Honorable mention to vampire dentist Lily.
Oh-- and of course Reg had to fall into the pool. It's a body of water and Regulus Black-- but it's an AU so he gets to make it out.
Xoxo, Blossom
Chapter 11: Robin Egg Blue
Notes:
A little CW for this one. Mentions of symptoms of PANDAS. See end notes for more specific warnings and a simple breakdown of the autoimmune disorder.
It's a bit heavier, but not too heavy I don't think, and a POV I think we really needed.
Also, thank you to those leaving kudos/comments. It really means a lot to know people are reading and enjoying this story of mine.
Don't be shy! Leave a comment and tell me what you think :) they make my day.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Walburga Black - Iowa, Regulus’ Sophomore Year of High School (Fall)
She should have known. As his mother, she should have sensed things sooner, but Regulus has always been a bit more… delicate? Skittish, maybe? Sensitive. Regulus has always been more sensitive than his brother, so when he started washing his hands until they bled, counting his steps on the cobblestone drive to ensure it was the same thirty-six each day on the way to the car, when he stopped eating as much or got over sensitive to lights and sounds, when Regulus had a hard time sleeping or started having panic attacks, Walburga thought it was normal teenage stress. She bought him an expensive hand lotion for his cracked skin, lectured him through a diet strategy, filled the house with soft nightlights, got him on anti-anxiety meds, and chalked it up to puberty. When it’s a million little things on their own, it doesn’t seem so bad. It’s when it’s a million little things all at once that it becomes a bigger problem. Walburga will never forgive herself for being so flippant about things, even if Sirius insists that his brother was quite good at hiding things. She should have known sooner.
She should have known sooner, but how could she have? It was as if Regulus had become a different person overnight. He was edgy, quick to snap at Sirius for what was only his usual pestering. He hated going to school in the morning, it was like kindergarten separation anxiety all over again. Regulus had always been a straight-A student, but his grades started slipping– he said his brain was foggy, that he couldn’t read like he used to. He often came into the study late at night, confessing intrusive thoughts to his mother– Mom, I think I’m a bad person. He said that more than once, and each time, all Walburga had to do was insist he was good– Bad people don’t worry about being good , she’d say, and he would drop it, easy as that. Until the next night.
It was as if he held these repeating thoughts on a loop in his brain, thoughts that would eat away at him and make him lose sleep, simmering inside of him until the pressure became too much and he crept down the stairs to tell her what was keeping him awake, what made him bad inside. He admitted to sneaking out once, watching a rated R movie without her permission, he said that he thought she must not be a very good person either, since she didn’t talk to her own family anymore. How could she be good if her own brother-in-law didn’t speak to her anymore?
It hurt Walburga to hear these things from her son, but she knew it hurt him more to say them. She could sense that he needed her forgiveness. It was as if he needed her to absolve things before he let them go. She felt a bit like a priest, waiting up each night for Regulus at confessional, forgiving him for the mildest of sins, normal teenage thoughts. It was heartbreaking, but whatever helped him sleep she would do.
It’s another one of these nights that Walburga sits in Orion’s study, reading– she always reads for an hour or two after he goes to bed. She turns a page, and her younger son comes downstairs in a quiet panic, planting himself in the chair opposite her. He sits without saying anything for a couple of minutes.
She listens to his breath hitch a few times, like he might be about to, but in the end she has to ask, “Regulus, baby, what’s wrong?”
He bursts into tears immediately. “I just want to be normal.”
“Normal?” Walburga places a bookmark into the pages of her novel, setting it on the desk.
“My brain won’t stop.” Regulus whispers. “It’s too loud.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Walburga holds her arms open, inviting him for an embrace. “Come here.”
Regulus is gangly, and at fourteen, he’s well past the age of sitting on his mother’s lap, but at this moment it doesn’t matter. Walburga holds her son tight, rocking him slightly as he rests in an awkward heap on top of her. His tears don’t stop, but his breathing gets less hiccupy as she rubs soothing circles on his back.
His next words come as a whisper, as if it takes a lot of effort for him to say them. “Mom, I really think there’s something wrong.” he snuffs his nose, snot dripping out with his tears. “I need help.” he wipes his face with his sleeves. “I don’t wanna feel like this anymore. I’m scared.”
Walburga is scared too, but she can’t say that. She’s his mother and he needs her help, so she buries her own emotions and promises, “I’ll get you help, Regulus.” she kisses his head. “This won’t last forever.”
Regulus sighs, relaxing into her further, his tears staining her shirt and skin. She’s promised him now, and she doesn’t know how, but she will keep her promise.
Walburga rocks him for what must be an hour before he falls asleep, and she has to do some clever maneuvering to reach her phone when the screen lights up from across the desk. The line buzzes for what feels like ages, and Walburga braces herself as she answers what was once a familiar contact.
A voice on the other line says, “Walburga?”
She squeezes her eyes shut, suppressing the way her insides squeeze at the sound of his voice. It’s just after four am for her, so it’ll be ten am over there. She calculates that six hour difference each time she looks at a clock.
“Hello?” he has to say, since she’s still not said anything. “I can hear you breathing.”
“Alphie.” Walburga manages, the nickname rolling out before she can stop it. “I’m sorry, I-”
“Sirius called me.” Alphard cuts her off. “Just two days ago, about Regulus. He’s real worried about the kid.”
“Sirius called?” Walburga lets out a deep sigh, rubbing her eyes which smears the day-old mascara she’s yet to remove. “I am too. Worried, I mean.” She’s not even mad at Sirius for going over her head, more so surprised, and a bit disheartened that he didn’t feel like he could come to her about things.
Alphard continues. “I was trying to figure out the right way to approach things. I know you don’t want to hear from me anymore. Hell, I figured I’d go straight to voicemail since it’s so early there, but I promised Sirius I would help, so.”
Walburga nearly laughs, a relieved puff of air coming from her lungs. “It might be hypocritical to say, but I’m glad you’ve called.”
“You are?” He sounds so surprised, but she figures that makes sense. She is the one who insisted they have a clean break of contact. It was too hard to have strings attached, even after all these years, even across the world.
“I am.” Walburga feels tears forming in her eyes as she glances down at her son, asleep on her chest like he’s a toddler again. “I don’t know what to do for him, not here. Not when I know he’ll care more about how this looks than getting Regulus the right help.” She doesn’t have to say who he is. They both know she’s talking about Orion. Somehow, it’s like they’re always talking about Orion.
Alphie swallows, the sound clear even through the phone, even over the ocean. “Regulus could come stay with me.”
Walburga almost drops her cell phone. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” Alphard insists. “We have excellent doctors here, and you know I’ve got the room.”
Walburga thinks of his grand townhouse, the one he had painted in her favorite color– robin egg blue. She thinks of the untouched grand piano. She thinks of Alphard, sitting in the breakfast nook alone each morning, staring at a fridge covered in magnets with no art to hang up, no children’s report cards.
“I can hear you overthinking.” Alphard says. “We will get Regulus what he needs. We will get your son back. We will brand it as a semester abroad if Orion wants an excuse.” Alphard always speaks the unspoken better than she does. He’s never been afraid to use Orion’s name.
Regulus stirs in her lap, so it’s barely audible when she says, “Ok, Alphie. Thank you.”
“I’d do much more if I was able.” He says. If you’d let me, he doesn’t say.
Notes:
Extended CW-- mentions of:
- Excessive hand washing
- Not eating
- OCD symptoms, including rituals and moral OCD
- Sensitivity to lights/sound
- Anti-anxiety medsOk, so! How are we feeling? The experience of watching a family member, especially a child, suffer is something that could not be glossed over in this story. I knew we had to hear from Walburga. Now listen, I know many people write the Black family as these horrible abusive parents, but in this story they are just a bit out of touch. They are rich, high society, and just a bit naive. They are not the best parents, but they are trying.
... Walburga on the phone with Alphard (or should I say Alphie???) What do you all make of their dynamic? I am curious to hear thoughts from you.
Our dear Regulus! <3 my heart hurts for him here.
I urge you all again to take some time to educate yourself about PANDAS. The story shown here is one version of an extremely varied illness-- If you want another source, the book Saving Sammy by Beth Alison Maloney is a mother's account of her son's experience with PANDAS. She also has another book called Childhood Interupted that gets a bit more medical in terms of treatments. Doctor Susan Swedo is another source if you want more research.
To give a bit more background: Following infection with strep, children with PANDAS syndrome develop severe physical, neurological, and psychological symptoms that interfere with their daily lives. This is sometimes also called PANS, if the infection is not strep, but something else. In very simple terms: the body attacks itself instead of the infection, the brain becomes inflamed, causing these symptoms. There are many ways this can impact someone, ranging from mild to severe. Many children get misdiagnosed, being treating for symptoms that resemble other things (such as ocd or anxiety) instead of treating the underlying infection. In some cases, all it takes is a dose of antibiotics to bring down a flare. In more severe cases, IVIG treatments may be used. This is something that can go and come back-- hence the word "flare" being used.
I urge you to learn more and spread awareness of PANDAS, especially since there are still doctors today who "don't believe it exists". Again, I am not a doctor myself, but I am writing from experience (again, not being specific about that) and I am making things simple for you as readers to understand. Thank you for reading this and learning more. Thank you for indulging me using a fanfic as a platform for something that means something to me.
I know I ping pong timelines a lot and also emotional tone, but to me this is the fun of this story. I hope you are following the narrative threads and enjoying.
Xoxo, Blossom
Chapter 12: Mom Picks Up On The Second Ring
Notes:
Enter: Sirius Black. Much anticipated much awaited POV for this story.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sirius Black - Hogwarts University, Sophomore Year (Spring)
Sirius and Lily met at the beginning of the semester, sitting next to one another serendipitously on the first day of their shared Biology class. It’s this class that cemented Sirius’ choice to change his major and pursue a pre-med track, partly because of Lily, or well, the differences between himself and her. The difference between Lily and Sirius is that her knowledge comes from intense studying. She has to put in a lot of hours to understand her coursework, and she practically lives in office hours for extra help. Sirius puts in the half the effort she does and still gets the same, if not better, marks on assignments and exams. While she squirmed on squid dissection day, Sirius was enthralled, completing both his and her lab work, then assisting the rest of their table in exchange for Sour Patch watermelons. He’s never done this well in any of the other majors he’s tried out, but science and medicine somehow make sense to him in an intrinsic way. He’s good at this, and he likes it.
The lectures click for him, the readings are interesting, and when students raise their hands, he finds himself suppressing eye rolls at questions he thinks are common sense. Obvious. He mentioned this to Lily once and she laughed at him, saying, Just because you’re some kind of prodigy doesn’t mean everyone is, Sirius Black.
Sirius had never been called a prodigy before. He had never been at the top of any class, always goofing off with James in high school and spending Freshman year of college going to parties and flip-flopping majors. To have someone like Lily Evans praising his brain felt surreal. She’s smart, organized, and untouchable. Lily’s planning on going to dental school, and was valedictorian at her high school. She’s president of some club Sirius always forgets the name of, and she’s an RA in the dorms. Lily’s schedule is packed, she’s taking twenty-one credits this semester and excelling in all of them. In high school, Sirius would have made fun of someone like Lily– desperate for good grades and the approval of her professors– but now, he’s impressed. Now, she’s become one of his best friends.
He’s waiting for her now, in the quad outside the Life Sciences building. Their final was today, and Sirius breezed through it. All of the questions were information on the study guide, and it was multiple choice, so he filled in the bubbles on his scantron and had time to double check his answers before most of the class finished their first pass.
He checks his phone. There’s still twelve minutes left on the exam time, and Lily always uses every last second, so he has time for a quick phone call. He knows he’s aced it, so he wants to share the good news, and also maybe find the time to drop the whole I’m going pre-med bomb.
Mom picks up on the second ring. “Sirius?”
“Hey, Mom.” He kicks at a stray pebble, rolling it under his shoe as he walks back and forth across the pavement. “How’s everything at home?”
“Oh, you know.” Mom sighs. “The Heritage Tea is coming up and I’ve gotten roped into being Chair again, so it’s been busy. Planning and all that.”
Sirius chuckles. “You swore after Poker Night you’d never lead another event for them.” He’s always found DAR events trite, but his mom enjoys them, so he’s learned to bite his tongue– sort of. “You said, and I quote, ‘Sirius, never let me agree to another one of these. Swear to it. I am done.’ end quote.”
“Yes, well.” she brushes him off. “How’re things at school?” It’s clear she’s driving, the sound of the car’s AC unit coming through the receiver. The radio is turned low, still on though, humming the sounds of AM radio– Mom has never been one for music in the car, but she loves her talk radio shows. If Sirius closes his eyes he can see the farmland she must be driving past.
“Good.” Sirius says, and he settles onto the stairs outside the building he’s been pacing in front of, stretching his legs across the pavement. “I just got out of my final exam for Bio.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I think I did well, too.” Sirius tries his best not to preen. “Most of it was genetics and stuff, dominant and recessive genes.”
“That reminds me.” Mom says, bottling his excitement, barely containing hers. “I was reading this article all about the MTHFR gene. Have you heard of it?”
“No.” Sirius answers honestly, though he can guess where she’s going with this.
“Lots of kids with PANDAS have it.” Bingo . “I think Regulus might.” Mom always finds a way to make their conversations about Regulus.
“Really?” Sirius says, more out of politeness than anything.
Mom prattles on, and Sirius tries his best not to tune her out.
It’s not that he doesn’t care about Regulus. Sirius loves his brother. Misses him a lot. He also does have an interest in what Mom is talking about, but just not right now. Not when he’s trying to share his own news.
“-anyways I think I’ll mention it to Alphie.” Mom says, the sound of her turn signal blink, blink, blinking. “Have you talked to Regulus recently?”
“Not really.” Sirius swallows. “You know how busy we both are, plus the time difference makes it hard.” he repeats the same lie he’s been telling himself. It’s easier to blame it on the time difference, even though he knows Reggie makes time to call Mom and his friends back home. The phone works both ways, but once Sirius stopped calling first they stopped talking at all. He calculates that six hour difference every time he looks at a clock.
“So, he hasn’t mentioned anything to you about transferring?”
“What?” Sirius flinches.
“I suppose he’ll want to tell you, so don’t tell him I said anything.” Mom continues, doing what she always does and sharing news between the brothers that they should be sharing themselves. “But he’s decided to move to Hogwarts in the fall.”
“Reggie’s coming back?” Sirius feels his stomach lurch. He used to wish all the time for Reggie to come home, never sure why he didn’t once he had gotten healthy. His dad said it was so he could finish high school in one place, and Sirius thought that was dumb when he’d started high school back in Iowa, but he accepted it, assuming he’d come back for college. Then, when he stayed in London, Sirius was sure he’d never live in the same place as his brother ever again. He had pictured their relationship, once as close as it gets, cracking until they were only pictures on Christmas cards sent to each other’s cross continental addresses.
“Reggie’s coming back.” Mom confirms, a smile in her voice. “I’m so glad you two will be together again, even if I still think you’re too far from me and your father.”
“It’s only a few hours drive.” Sirius reminds her. “We’ll come home for Thanksgiving.”
It’s then that Lily walks out of the building, her body casting a shadow where Sirius sits on the stairs, and he stops the squinting he didn’t realize he was doing since she’s blocking the sun. It’s funny to look up at her, their height difference significant enough when standing that Sirius can use her head as an elbow rest. Sirius makes his excuses and ends the call with his mom.
“How’d you do?” Sirius stands, restoring things so she has to look up at him.
Lily rubs her temples. “I don’t even care anymore.” she laughs, handing Sirius her textbook when he extends a hand to take it. They’ve agreed to return each of their books right after each final, even if it’s impractical to make so many trips to the campus store. Each time they pass a book back over the rental counter it feels like a mini victory.
“Oh, come on.” Sirius rolls his eyes, starting their walk towards the bookstore. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Lily gives him a look, but she must see something in his expression because she drops the issue, instead asking, “Who was on the phone?” which is arguably a worse topic than their Bio exam.
“My mom.” Sirius shrugs. “I was going to tell her about changing my major, but she had news of her own.”
“Oh?” Lily raises her eyebrows.
“Turns out Regulus is transferring schools next year.” Sirius says.
Lily hums. “Where’s he gonna go?”
“Here.” Sirius breathes, almost a laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “He’s gonna go to school here.”
“Oh my god, Sirius!” Lily swats his shoulder. “That’s amazing.”
Sirius nods, silent.
“That is amazing, right?” Lily presses, leaning into his side as they continue to walk across campus.
“It is. It’s just-” he pauses, not sure how to explain it all. “I love my brother, you know that.”
“Duh, you talk about him all the time.” Lily reasons, likely sick of Regulus anecdotes by now. “I feel like I know the guy.”
“Right. So, of course I’m glad he’s coming back.” Sirius finds another pebble, kicking it ahead of them. “I just wish he woulda told me himself, ya know?”
“Ok, fair.” Lily sucks in a breath, a hiss between her teeth. “Your mom told you?”
“Yep.” and he kicks the pebble once they reach where it’s landed. “She does that all the time, a terrible secret keeper, Walburga Black is, so I wouldn’t expect anything else. It’s just that I didn’t even get a chance to tell her about finals, or my own plans for school now that I’ve made things official. It’s like every conversation we have is about Reggie, and it doesn’t bother me most of the time, it’s just-”
“When you have good news, you’d like someone to listen.” Lily interrupts, voicing his thoughts better than he could’ve. “It’s ok to be upset, Sirius. About your mom and about Regulus.”
“I dunno.” Sirius huffs.
“I do.” Lily smirks. “It’s a big deal, him coming here. It’s normal to have mixed emotions. You’ve made a name for yourself, and adding a sibling to that is hard. I know from experience.” She’s talking about her sister, Petunia, and their own strained relationship.
“Yeah, but I love him.”
“That doesn’t make things easy.” Lily says. “Love is one of the hardest things to live with, even if it’s also the most beautiful.” They’ve reached the bookstore now, and Lily holds the door open for him.
“When did you get so wise?” he asks, sliding past her through the entrance.
“I’ve always been wise, Sirius Black.”
It’s true. She is one of the wisest people he knows. It was a conversation with Lily that opened his eyes to the fact he should pursue medicine. She had been talking about her younger cousin, and everything she said aligned with Regulus. It felt like textbook PANDAS, so he mentioned it to her without much thought. He forgot about it until Lily brought it up a week later, saying her Aunt told their doctor and it helped get her cousin diagnosed. She was so grateful to Sirius for connecting the dots for them, and innocently commented, You’re going to make a great doctor someday. Instead of correcting her, Sirius just said, Thanks . He changed his major that same day.
Notes:
Sirius & Lily friendship >>>
I wanted to portray the very real thing that can happen sometimes when a child gets sick-- their sibling becomes the glass child. That's how I see Sirius in this story.
Can we take a moment for the parallel of Walburga counting the 6 hour time difference for Alphie and Sirius doing it for Regulus. Making myself emo with that.
After the holidays I'm somehow back to my speedy and chaotic updating "schedule" it seems. We'll see how long this inspiration kick lasts.
Xoxo, Blossom
Chapter 13: A Major, Full Scale Debrief
Summary:
The colliding of Regulus' one on one friends.
Notes:
This chapter was difficult to write-- be forgiving with the texting bits. I think context makes it make sense, but I will preface that it's two threads and not a group chat for clarity. Also-- first time a chapter is picking up directly after a previous one... morning after Halloween. Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Regulus Black - Hogwarts University, Sophomore Year (Fall)
He should not feel this hungover– he had like, a few beers and half a white claw that James couldn’t finish– but there’s this sour feeling in his stomach and a headache radiating from his eye sockets. The end of the night is a blur to most everyone else, who was drunker than Regulus, but he remembers very clearly how Remus had been too far gone to drive them home. Then, Sirius went all Overprotective Brother Mode on him, forbidding Regulus from walking back to campus, so he and Remus fell asleep on the couch, and spent the night at the boys’ apartment. This morning, Regulus woke up to the sun creeping in through the spotty living room blinds, the embarrassment of last night crawling up his throat– falling in the pool, his boldness towards James. He had to bolt to the bathroom to puke up his anxiety. He needed a shower, a real breakfast, and to spiral about James not in James’ own apartment, so he woke up Remus and the two of them left.
Now, he’s sitting in the passenger seat of Remus’ white Jeep, the radio turned low since his friend’s headache is much worse. Regulus feels a bit guilty for not leaving a note for his brother, so he shoots him a text explaining their quick exit– thank god that James knew about that rice trick, his phone is working just fine– checking his other messages to find some from only an hour ago– eleven am, which means five pm London time. Regulus calculates that six hour time difference each time he looks at a clock.
Evan
Reg!!!
Ran into Mary Macdonald at the pub!
[image attached]
She says hi
There are some more, twenty minutes after those, and the tone is significantly more drunk. Evan was working last night, the woes of dropping out of school for the working world, so his mates had agreed to go out for Halloween on the first of November– a little happy hour to commemorate a holiday that Evan claims is much more fun in university. He’s part of the reason Regulus decided to accept the invite to join his brother, insisting that he take advantage of the few meager years left he had to get plastered in the middle of the week and skip classes the next day.
Evan
Fuck rej
Reg**
i just made snofged mary
macdonld
Macdonald fuck
I just snogged mary macdonald
He hasn’t seen Mary since their leaver’s party, so Regulus huffs a laugh reading that one, which makes Remus glance over at him via the rearview mirror.
“My best mate ran into someone from school at the pub.” Regulus explains. “He made out with her.”
“Oh?” Remus shakes his head, a resigned laugh escaping his mouth. “Is that gonna be messy? Or are we like, excited for him?”
Regulus hums. “Not sure. I’ll ask.”
Regulus
How are you feeling about that?
Just as the message to Evan says delivered, Regulus’ phone buzzes with a new one from Barty. He clicks on their thread to read it, and Remus turns off the radio, pressing into his temple with a knuckle.
Barty
I’m nvr drinking again
“I am so taking a nap today.” Remus groans. “I feel awful.”
“That’s what you get for drinking your water weight in alcohol last night.” Regulus says to Remus, laughing as he echoes the sentiment in his reply to Barty’s message.
Regulus
That hungover huh?
Barty
Kill me rn
I mean it
Muciber’s bro made this moonshine in his grg & we all got so fk’d
Regulus remembers back when Mulciber’s brother provided only the cheapest vodka, maybe a keg or two stolen off the back of a Budweiser truck. He’s not sure if brewing homemade moonshine is better or worse, but if Barty’s hangover is any indication, it’s worse.
Remus fishes a pair of sunglasses out of the center console, sliding them up his nose, and the action does little to cover the glare he’s sending towards Regulus. “Says you, mister half a white claw.”
“That was Sirius’ doing, not mine.” Regulus argues, rolling his eyes as he types on his phone to reply to Barty.
Regulus
Sounds like you had a good time tho
Glad one of us did
“Right, Sirius.” Remus hits the brake when they reach a red light. “I feel like we should at least mention the whole secret brother thing.”
Evan
I am choosing to process it toemgow
tomorrow**
Right, the whole Mary Macdonald Makeout thing. Regulus pauses, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he formulates a response to Evan, saying to Remus, “Thanks for being cool about it last night. It’s complicated. Me and Sirius.” He hits send.
Regulus
It’s tomorrow already for me
And i have shit to process too
“You wanna get breakfast? I need hangover eggs.” Remus says. “Then we can talk about your brother, if you want.”
Evan
Color me intrgued ;))
“Turn on Diagon. We can go to Trelawney’s.” Regulus agrees. He could go for a stack of chocolate chip pancakes, even as it hits him that the last time he was at Trelawney’s he was with James.
Remus does as he’s told, taking the detour towards the twenty-four hour greasy spoon.
Barty
What do u mean one of us?
Oh shit.
U were w sirius right?
Evan
Is ths because of yur brother?
Regulus feels his eyes burning from the strain of staring at his screen in a moving vehicle– all whilst flitting between two message threads and keeping up a verbal conversation with one wildly hungover friend. They’ve pulled into the car park now, so Regulus gets out of the Jeep and pockets his phone, sliding it into the center of the Hogwarts University sweatshirt he’s wearing– James’ sweatshirt, which reminds him he’s still branded by his surname on the sweatpants. It’s too late to do anything now, his clothes still sitting in the washer at the apartment, so he tugs the back of the sweatshirt down in hopes it’ll cover the embroidery until he can sit.
The diner is busier than the last time he was here, booths stuffed with hungover students that slept till the afternoon like Regulus and Remus did. The frycooks are working fast, the smell of bacon and eggs filling the air as the bell in the kitchen window gets hit again and again to signal orders to the waitstaff. It seems like the place has only two servers, Sybill from last time, flitting around the place like she’s got super speed, and a man with ginger hair, leaning on tables and schmoozing with customers.
Sybill greets them at the door with a coffee pitcher in her hand. “Just ya’ll two?”
“Yeah.” Remus nods.
“Over there.” She gestures to a corner booth along the window, the opposite side of where he sat with James last time. Regulus isn’t sure if he’s happy about that or not.
Remus leads the way, slumping into the booth with an exaggerated sigh. He leaves his sunglasses on and slides his mug to the edge of the table when Sybill offers hot coffee, accepting a heavy pour. Regulus takes some too, glad to have something to occupy his hands.
“Art’ll be right with you.” Sybill assures them, disappearing to tend to her own tables.
Regulus pretends to peruse the syrup-sticky menu, watching Remus for clues as to how long he should look at it. The guy seems to be taking his time, so Regulus doesn’t feel bad texting when his phone buzzes in his pocket.
Barty
U alive?
Regulus
Yeah sorry
I was with Sirius last night– party at his place
Barty
What happened?
Regulus
Do you remember James Potter? From high school?
Barty
Obvi
Regulus
I think i may be into him?
Regulus takes a sip of his coffee, grimacing at the burnt, bitter taste while he watches the little dots appear to signal Barty is typing. He busies himself by emptying several packets of creamer into his mug, stirring it with the grapefruit spoon sitting amongst the silverware on his side of the table. He texts a similar confession to Evan, who is a bit more up to date on his interactions with James, having heard about the Peanut Incident.
“So, should we talk about Sirius?” Remus asks, seemingly done deciding his hangover breakfast order. “Or James?”
Regulus nearly spits out his coffee, instead choking a bit as he swallows. He clicks off his phone screen, his real-life conversation taking precedence.
“I don’t usually push.” Remus says, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses, his sandy hair disheveled from last night’s cowboy hat and his subsequent sleep on Sirius’ couch. “I just- you know you can talk to me, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“I mean you can really talk to me.” Remus repeats. “About the real stuff. Not just work and homework and tv shows.”
“We like talking about those things.” Regulus says, fighting the urge to fidget with the used creamer packets.
“We do.” Remus smirks. “I think we can keep those, but add more. We slept next to each other on your brother’s sofa last night. We’re more than coworkers now. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Regulus has thought of Remus as his friend for a while now, but it’s nice to hear it confirmed aloud. “Yeah.”
“Glad that’s sorted.” Remus says, taking a sip of his coffee and doing a much better job at stomaching it than Regulus did. “So, secret brother or secret boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend!” Regulus whisper-shouts, glancing around the restaurant to see if anyone’s overheard.
“But you want him to be?”
Their server chooses that moment to show up, sidling up to the edge of their table, his face turned downwards at the order pad in his hands. “Welcome in, my name’s Art, I’ll be your server today.” His name tag says Arthur , and he’s got tortoise shell glasses that fit his face perfectly, framing his blue eyes. His ginger hair is textured, waves curling around his ears and down his neck, and he’s got long sleeves sticking out from under his uniform tee shirt, the thin white fabric not enough to cover the patchwork tattoos printed along his biceps. “Can I get you any drinks? Orange juice, coffee?”
“We’re covered on the coffee, thanks.” Remus says, making Art look up at him.
“I’ll take an orange juice.” Regulus decides, his burnt, overly creamy coffee not sitting well on his empty stomach. “Water too, please.”
Art huffs a laugh, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “Thirsty this afternoon, huh?”
“I guess.” Regulus says, pushing his coffee mug away from himself. The sound of scraping ceramic makes Art look at him now.
“Wait, Regulus?” Art’s eyes are wide, light blue. “Regulus Black?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Arthur.” he says, continuing when Regulus doesn’t show any signs of recognition. “Arthur Weasley.”
“You two know each other?” Remus cuts in, lifting his sunglasses to rest atop his head, then squinting as his eyes adjust to the bright overhead lamps.
Art nods, gesturing between himself and Regulus with his pen. “We went to the same high school.”
“We did?” Regulus asks. It takes him a moment to try and place the guy, his brain automatically cycling through his classmates from London before realizing Arthur must be one of his Iowa acquaintances. “Weasley…”
“I was on the football team with your brother.” Art says, placing one arm on the table to lean in. “A year above him.”
“I’m not sure I remember you, to be honest.” Regulus admits, his cheeks warming at the scrutinizing looks he’s receiving from both Arthur and Remus.
“I was also your peer advisor when you were a freshman.” Art says, shrugging. He rubs a hand through the scruff on his face, not a full beard, just enough to feel like sandpaper.
“I didn’t even know I had one of those.”
“Well, that explains why you never asked for help.” Arthur laughs, the sound so cheery it cuts through Regulus’ hangover headache and makes him feel a bit like laughing himself.
“Art, you’ve got plates getting cold.” Sybill cuts in as she passes, balancing her own tray of breakfast dishes.
“I’ll get your juice. Oh, and your water.” Art winks. “Any food?”
They place their orders, pancakes and fries for Regulus, eggs with toast for Remus, and Arthur shoots them another soft smile before leaving.
Regulus lets his mouth fall open only after Arthur walks away. “What was that?”
“What, the waiter flirting with you?” Remus asks, his eyebrows raising in amusement.
“He was not flirting with me.” Regulus feels his face burning. “He just knows me from high school, apparently.”
“Wow, you’re a bit oblivious, aren’t you?” a smug smile takes over his lips. “You know what, I think we have to focus on one thing at a time. We can circle back to the hot waiter. I wanna hear about you and James.”
Regulus’ phone screen lights up, both of his friends sending further inquiries.
Barty
UR INTO POTTER???
How?
Why?
Evan
I knew it.
Tell me more
Remus sighs, “Who’re you texting?”
Regulus runs a hand through his curls. “My friends, Barty and Evan. One’s in Iowa the other’s in London.”
“Whatcha talking about?” Remus takes a sip of his coffee, looking over the edge of the cup with an expression that shows he knows exactly what they’re talking about.
“James.” Regulus murmurs, hovering his thumbs over his phone, deciding what to say and who to say it to.
Remus laughs. “Ok, so it seems you’re in need of a major, full scale debrief.”
“Or all my friends are nosy.” Regulus counters, though there’s not much steam behind it.
Remus clasps his hands, setting them on top of the table in expectation, not saying anything.
Regulus can only stand the silence for a few moments before he gives in with a sigh, “Ok, so how do I do a debrief?” he asks, feeling a bit juvenile. Regulus is not a friend group person, at least not of his own volition. He has individual friends, people he talks to or hangs out with one on one, and none of them have met any of his other one-on-one friends. It’s safer that way, then he can gossip about everyone to the others and people automatically have to take his side since they’ve never met the other person. They have to like him best. Maybe it’s unhealthy, but with his best friends being long distance anyway, Regulus has never had to consider the possibility of introducing any of them.
Remus shatters that ideal. “Group facetime.” he almost scoffs, as if the notion is obvious. He holds out his hand to take Regulus’ phone, which he passes it over with reluctance. “Barty and Evan?”
Regulus nods his confirmation.
Remus dials, propping the phone up onto the table’s sugar shaker, and Regulus starts fidgeting with the used creamer packets.
Evan’s face appears first. “Regulus!” he’s outside, probably walking between pubs, the evening still young where he’s at.
“Hello?” Barty appears next, his hair rumpled from sleep, nursing his hangover well into the afternoon.
“Oh, hi.” Evan greets him. “Regulus, who is this? And who’s with you?” he asks, referring to Barty, then Remus who’s splitting the frame with Regulus, both of them leaning towards the center of their shared table.
“Hey, I’m Remus.” he waves at the camera, delighted at the colliding of worlds that has Regulus sitting frozen, unsure what to do with himself just yet.
“Oh, you’re the bloke from the coffee shop.” Evan’s eyes go wide. “Lanky!”
“Wait, you must be Evan, then.” Barty cuts in, and when Evan tilts his head in question he adds, “Your accent gave it away, mate.” he does his best to mimic Evan’s british accent, but it comes out rather stilted.
Regulus can feel himself sinking into the cushions of the booth he’s in, and he’s sure his face is bright red. His friends don’t comment on it, but Remus’ smirk says he’s enjoying Regulus’ floundering.
“That makes you Barty?” Evan asks, receiving a nod from the man in question, their respective facetime boxes enlarging when they speak.
“Awe, you talkin’ ‘bout me, Regulus?” Barty says, a faux pout on his lips. “I’m touched.”
“Don’t be too impressed.” Regulus finds his voice. “I make sure to talk shit about you more than anything.”
“Fuck off.”
“You fuck off.”
“I knew you loved me.” Barty smirks, his tongue sliding between his teeth.
“Are they always like this?” Evan asks.
Remus just shrugs.
Sybill whizzes past, dropping off water and orange juice.
“Reg, this is brilliant!” Evan says, a slight slur to his words betraying his remaining tipsy. “Don’t know why we’ve never done this before.” His camera angle is rather shaky, and he’s still walking outdoors, the busy London streets blurring behind him. It looks like the pub crawl is just getting started.
“Was the Potter thing a ruse to get us on the phone?” Barty asks.
“Oh no, that’s why you’re here.” Remus says. “What we all have in common is our friendship with Regulus, so it’s our duty, as his friends, to be there for a debrief. Take it away, Reg.”
Regulus swallows. He’s starting to sweat now– since when is it so hot in here? He wraps his hands around his glass of orange juice, letting the condensation drip onto his fingers. “This is stupid.”
“Please, skip past the self deprecating shit and just get to the good stuff. I’m too hungover for this.” Barty rolls his eyes, stumbling into his kitchen and turning on the tap. He sticks his face under the stream to drink, his phone propped up on a cereal box or perhaps his coffee pot.
“Harsh.” Regulus says, but he knows his friend is right, that he should just get on with it. Maybe voicing his thoughts will help quell the sticky, uncomfortable feeling growing in his stomach. “I think I may be feeling some feelings about James.”
“That much is clear.” Remus says.
“What kinds of feelings?” Evan pipes in.
“You two should’ve seen them last night.” Remus continues, taking way too much pleasure in spilling the details of Regulus’ fumbling. “Regulus fell in the pool and came back in Potter’s clothes.”
“Oh, so romantic feelings.” Evan says, his tone sounding more sober. “You two snog?”
Regulus covers his face with his hands, his cheeks burning. He doesn’t often talk about relationship stuff with Evan. They talk about everything else, but love life stuff, it feels too weird. He’s not still hung up on him, but Evan will always be akin to a first love for Regulus. One isn’t supposed to talk about crushes– if that’s even what this is– with their first loves. Right?
“Nah, they haven’t done anything.” Barty says.
Regulus tears his hands away from his face, planting his elbows on the table. “What makes you so sure of that?”
Barty laughs. He’s making breakfast, sliding frozen waffles into a toaster. “I know you, and you would be panicking much worse if you’d kissed the guy.”
Regulus wants to protest, but Barty is right, so he settles for blowing out an indignant huff of air, the curls on his forehead lifting with the motion before settling back onto his flushed skin. He takes a sip of orange juice, the acidic flavor not doing much to settle his nerves, so he downs some water as a chaser.
“Break it down for us.” Evan says, and he’s stopped walking, likely settled on the corner outside a pub to finish this conversation before rejoining his group of lads from the newspaper.
“I dunno, I’m just confused.” Regulus admits, forcing out a truth that isn’t quite a confession. “I talk to him and it’s like- he’s really easy to talk to when it’s just us two, ya know? It’s weird.”
“Weird, how?” Evan asks.
“Whenever we’re alone I feel like there could be some tension there. Maybe?”
“Oh, there’s tension.” Remus promises. “That ride back from the hospital was so awkward for me. I felt like such a third wheel.”
“He talked to you the whole time.” Regulus says. “I barely spoke two words.”
Remus takes a slow gulp of his coffee before saying, “All he did was ask me questions about you.”
“That’s sweet.” Evan hums.
“That’s nauseating.” Barty corrects. “But in a romantic context, I suppose it’s nice.”
“It’s different from that though, when we’re alone together.” Regulus says, pushing forward. “It feels special, almost. There’s all these unspoken years between us, but it’s like he gets my energy, if that makes sense. Like if we ignore all the complicated bits, we could just sit in a room together and breathe and it would be nice.”
Barty scoffs. “That’s so weird.”
“You’ve got matching auras!” Evan says, grinning into the phone camera.
“You’ve been spending time with Pandora?” Regulus asks.
“What if I have?” Evan says, his features crinkling in irritation. He’s losing his buzz, standing out in the cold to talk to Regulus. His cheeks are pink from the weather, not the cider he’d be downing if he was in the pub. Regulus suppresses a smile at the notion of Evan standing out in the November chill just to speak to him on facetime.
“That’d be fine.” Regulus says. “Pandora’s nice.”
“I know.” Evan says. “I don’t need your permission to see Pandora.”
“I never said you did.”
“Sounded like it’s what you meant, though.” Evan sighs. “You’re spending time with this James bloke, and I haven’t said a word against it.”
Arthur, impeccable timing that man has, glides up to their table, a tray balanced on one hand. “Pancakes and fries.” He sets the plates in front of Regulus. “Odd combo. Not much of a hash brown guy, huh?”
“Uh, no.” Regulus blinks. “I guess not.”
Arthur sets down Remus’ food without saying anything, instead addressing Regulus again when he asks, “Anything else I can bring you?”
“No, thanks.” Regulus says, waiting until Arthur nods and walks away before reaching for a fry, dipping it into the melting chocolate chips atop his shortstack. He skips the syrup, the chocolate chips sweet enough on their own.
Remus eats a few forkfuls of eggs before spreading jam onto his toast. He’s still chewing when he says, “You gonna make a move on James?”
Barty straight up cackles on the other line.
“Are you?” Evan echoes.
“I dunno.” Regulus takes a bite of his pancakes, warm and fluffy. “I still don’t know how I feel.”
“You said it was special.” Evan says. “That’s a feeling.”
“Yeah, but it feels special when we’re alone.” Regulus reasons. “Whenever anyone else shows up, the specialness dissolves. Or I see him interacting with others and the things he does that seem special or maybe even flirty with me seem to be just him, the way he is with everyone.”
Barty’s toaster pops, his frozen waffles warmed to a crispy shade of brown. “If this is the same James Potter from high school, then you have a point. The man’s a chronic flirt.” He takes a bite of waffle, wincing in a way that means he’s burnt his tongue.
“James has never once flirted with me.” Remus says between bites of egg. “Not like he does with Reg.”
“Look, who cares how James feels?” Evan says. “It has no impact if Regulus doesn’t know how he feels.”
“How do I know how I feel?” Regulus whines.
“You said James seems the way he is with everyone?” Evan asks.
“Debatable.” Remus cuts in.
“Yeah, yeah.” Evan mutters. “But are you?”
Regulus tilts his head, a silent plea for clarification.
“Are you the way you are with everyone?” Evan rubs a hand over his head, his hair a bit longer than the close-cut buzz he had when Regulus left, but still not floppy. Still not long enough to use gel, like he used to when they were younger.
Regulus ponders the question. Is he different when he’s around James? Before last night he would’ve said no, but now? He’s never had the urge to wink at someone before. To pull off his shirt just to see them sweat. James made him want to do those things. James makes him want to do all sorts of things, he’s now realizing.
“Oh, he’s had a breakthrough.” Barty whispers, and his smile is clear in his voice. He gets this grin sometimes, his tongue stuck between his teeth as one side of his mouth raises higher than the other, and without even glancing, Regulus knows that’s the look on his face.
“What do I do?” Regulus is panicking now, rubbing his sweaty palms on the fabric on his thighs. Fabric belonging to James’ sweatpants, which starts a whole new spiral. “Am I supposed to ask him out?” Regulus doesn’t know if he can do that.
“Just spend time with him.” Evan suggests, his blue eyes reflecting the glow of street lamps. “No pressure, see where it goes.”
“What about Sirius?” Barty asks, and it’s a valid concern.
Remus uses the crust of his toast to mop up his runny eggs. “Would he care?”
“I dunno.” Regulus says. “James thinks we shouldn’t factor Sirius into our interactions. He always skips past his name in conversations. It’s very disconcerting.”
Barty’s jaw drops. “You should’ve led with that! Your brother and James are practically inseparable. Maybe he is into you.”
Regulus feels his cheeks warm again, but this time the feeling is a bit more welcome. Maybe James is into him.
“Look, Reg I gotta go.” Evan says. “Update me though, yeah?”
“Yeah, of course.” Regulus promises. “I’ll send you more awful voice memos.”
“I love your memos.” Evan’s eyes crinkle in amusement. “They’re my podcast for the tube. Nice to meet you, lads.”
The others chime in with goodbyes and Evan hangs up, leaving just Barty on the line.
Regulus picks up his phone from its perch against the sugar shaker, holding Barty in his palms.
“So, we gonna talk shit about Evan now that he’s gone?” Barty asks, and the three remaining friends burst into laughter.
Notes:
ok! I really ended up loving this chapter. The mixing of Reg's friends was super fun, plus there were some surprises (even to me because these characters have minds of their own)
Arthur (Art) Weasley... listen! He just really wanted to pop in here and who was I to deny him? We shall be seeing more of him I believe (because we always need a ginger man to come in and interrupt the path to Jegulus... tho it's usually a Prewett twin, here it may just be Art)
Remus our gossip girl wannabe. (we glossed over his opinions on Sirius... didn't we? ;)
Evan. Evan and Reg. Oh somehow these two have become such a gem to me through writing this story. My heart!!! There's a bit of tension here as Evan is used to Regulus lowkey pining for him (even if he swears he's moved on)... I did not expect this tension, but the boys were fighting and I couldn't stop them. These bits of dialogue came so fast-- thanks to my pals on discord for the writing sprint that got this chapter finished.
Moonwater friendship is shining through as well! He's such a good friend to Reg-- insisting they can talk real talk (and still talk about tv shows). Their friendship is honestly highly inspired by one of my friends I had in college. We aren't close anymore, but there was a time in which we really just understood each other and bonded real deeply-- that's Reg and Remus.
Regulus has admitted feelings! Kinda. It's something at least! Here's to our boy making money moves.
Leave comment if you want ;) hope you love these boys as much as I do.
Xoxo, Blossom
Chapter 14: All Serendipity Is Masterminded By Someone
Notes:
.... hi guys.
It's been literal ages since I've updated this fic, and to be honest I'm not sure how active I will continue to be on this one. I have shifted focus on a few larger stories, but I won't say this one is completely abandoned... just that I'll only write when I feel inspired I guess.
Anyways, this chapter has been sitting in my docs for actual MONTHS, mostly finished, so I whipped up the ending to this chapter today because why the hell not?
If you like my writing I invite you to read my other fics as well ;)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Regulus Black - Hogwarts University, Sophomore Year (Fall)
He sits in the front row, so he should be the first one out of the classroom. More often than not he is, but not today. Today, Regulus packs his things at a snail’s pace, trying to time his exit to his TA’s— to James’. James who is busy chatting to Professor Bauer, an easy sort of banter that shouldn’t exist between a teacher and a student. Regulus supposes this is the type of banter reserved for a mentor and their mentee, which fits them better than the teacher/student category. This is how some of Regulus’ classmates look gabbing with Professor Slughorn after one of his film classes. Regulus should really learn to connect with faculty more, especially as a transfer student. He has one year less than everyone else to gain a reputation.
He takes his time closing out each tab on his laptop, slipping it into its case and then into his bag. He rewinds his charger, deliberate fingers twirling the cord into its usual nest shape. Then, he spends a minute fake-checking his phone, answering texts that aren’t there. The last few remaining students sneak past him out the door, and Regulus slides his bag onto his shoulder just as James is wishing Professor Bauer a good rest of his Thursday . Expert timing coupled with plausible deniability. All serendipity is masterminded by someone, Regulus decides as James holds the door for him.
“James,” Regulus says his name like a greeting, even if it feels like a plea. Please look at me, please listen to me, please never stop .
“Regulus.” James smiles, but not with his teeth. It’s the classic polite smile you’re supposed to give someone when you hold open a door or pick up something they dropped, but to Regulus it feels like a personal slight. Why won’t James give him the crescent moon smile? He hasn’t seen it since he’s started having feelings , and somehow he feels like he’ll crumble if he doesn’t, blow away in the wind like dried sand.
“Do you have anything?” Regulus says, walking side by side with James towards the building’s exit.
A different sort of smile, the type that means James is holding in a laugh. “Anything?” He’s wearing a red zip up, likely the one from that day at hospital, and Regulus feels a surge of satisfaction at the reminder that he’s yet to return James’ HU hoodie. He has one of his own just like it, but James’ is more comfortable, the sleeves worn in and soft.
“I meant are you doing anything?” Regulus cringes at himself.
“I’m walking with you,” James says, his shoulders raising in an easy shrug.
“Right.” This is starting to feel like that time in the library at the start of the semester— James his unaffected, confident self, Regulus forgetting the basic steps of being human.
“I’m only joking,” James insists, catching the way Regulus’ expression has fallen over the course of a few fragments of sentences.
“Oh, yeah, alright.” Regulus huffs out some forced laughter. This isn’t even a real conversation yet and he’s freaking out. He’s being weird, isn’t he? He rubs his hands on his pant legs, and the two of them shuffle out of the English building to the courtyard.
The weather is humid and muggy, the cobblestones tracked with mud from the weeklong rainstorm that ended this morning, worms shriveling up on the pavement. There are some residual grey clouds left behind, and Regulus wishes for the lighting to come back and smite him.
“Regulus, were you trying to ask me something?” James is walking backwards, confident strides with his hands in his pockets.
Yes, but I want you to ask. I want you to read my mind like you read my brother’s . “Just making conversation,” Regulus shrugs, the weight of his bag feeling heavy on one shoulder.
James nods, like this makes sense, and falls back into step with Regulus. “What are you thinking about?”
You, your hands, the way you smile and breathe and are . “I’m thinking about how there are still so many buildings on campus I’ve never set foot in,” Regulus says. “Feels like a waste to pay all this money and only ever use the buildings for my major.”
James’ nose crinkles in amusement. “You’re so right. I’ve never even thought of that, getting my money’s worth.”
“I calculated how much each class period costs if you divide the price of tuition by the number of weeks per semester,” Regulus admits, and he feels like a swot just saying it, ears warming.
“Oh my god,” James laughs, loud and bright, like the weather’s a sunny watercolor and not a smeared charcoal drawing, all greyscale and blurry. “That’s one way to ensure perfect attendance.”
“Yeah.”
There’s a pause.
James slides his hands out of his pockets and in again.
Regulus rocks back and forth, shifting his weight in his trainers. Toes, heels, toes, heels .
It’s quiet, no students wanting to stand outside in the muggy weather.
Really, James should turn for the parking lot now, and Regulus should walk towards his dorm, but they stand still, not quite looking at each other, not looking away either. Regulus focuses on a spot at the tip of James’ ear, the place where the arm of his glasses sits, and he wonders if James can still feel his glasses on his face, after wearing them for so many years. Maybe they’ve become second nature now, like a pill in the morning, the watch on his wrist.
“Should we pick a building?” James asks, his eye contact suddenly sure, his gaze fixed on Regulus with such clarity it makes him double down on the wish for lightning. Though, wasn’t he also just wishing for James to look at him?
“What?” Regulus has no choice but to match the eye contact, meeting James’ stare with his own.
“What’s a building you’ve never gone to?” he asks, meandering towards a campus directory, one of those illustrated maps with a red dot that says, you are here .
Regulus trails after him. “You’re not seri—”
“Nope, just James,” he smirks, and even if it’s in a roundabout way, it’s the first time he’s mentioned Sirius in casual conversation.
Regulus fakes a scowl, his insides feeling mushy as he peers over James’ shoulder at the faded directory. He resists the urge to rest his chin on his shoulder, letting out a measured breath instead, his exhale making James shudder when the air hits his neck. James glances at him, sucking in a breath of his own when their eyes meet. Inches apart, Regulus can see the way James’ glasses magnify his glossy eyes. There’s a freckle resting under his left eye, shielded by his bottom lashes, and Regulus suppresses the voices in his head insisting that he count them. One, two, thr—
James blinks, his glasses slipping with the downward tilt of his head.
Regulus can’t stop the itch in his hands, allowing himself the small gesture of sliding James’ glasses up the bridge of his nose for him.
“Reg—”
“Anthropology,” Regulus decides, jerking his head back and turning to face the map of campus. He coughs. “I’ve never been to the Anthropology building.”
James licks his lips. “Alright.” He studies the map for a moment, deciphering where they need to go.
Regulus turns on his heels, glad when James follows behind him since he picked a random direction and started walking— he must have guessed right.
The walk to the Anthropology building is long, and they avoid the remnants of puddles as they walk, a zigzag pattern across the courtyard.
James is quiet, which is unlike him, and the silence is putting Regulus on edge. Should he say something to fill the silence? What would he say? Somehow all rational topics of conversation have left his head, and all Regulus can focus on is the way James’ hands swing as he walks, how he wants those fingers to intertwine with his own.
The Anthropology building turns out to be tucked behind the older science quad, almost unnoticeable behind a wall of shrubbery. Its brick is darker than the others, the windows tall and narrow like it was once something else— a chapel maybe, or a dining hall.
James slows when they approach the steps. “This is already more mysterious than I expected.”
“You were expecting mystery?” Regulus arches an eyebrow.
“I don’t know.” James shrugs, pushing open the door, holding it open like he did the last one. “I was expecting a skeleton in the window. At least a stray skull or something.”
“You’re thinking of Biology,” Regulus says, following James inside.
The entrance hall is rather bare, a common room with a few benches and tables, the room branching off into corridors. Students are hunched over laptops, others are sifting through notecards, flipping them over to test themselves.
“Should we look for a vending machine?” James asks, leaning to peer down a hallway.
Regulus swallows a laugh. That wasn’t funny , he tells himself, that’s just James . He’s light and effortless and carefree. Meanwhile, Regulus is overthinking every breath he’s taking, wondering if his inhales are too loud. His palms are clammy, and Regulus is now glad he didn’t try to slide his hand into James’ because then James would know he has clammy hands. Can he tell just by looking?
“Regulus?” a voice calls from the other end of the lounge, and Regulus turns to see a head of ginger hair, eyes framed by tortoise shell glasses— Arthur, from the diner.
Arthur— or Art, he’d called himself— approaches with a half-lidded smile, an easy sort of confidence that feels odd since they barely know each other.
“Art,” Regulus says, greeting him with a nod. “I didn’t know you were a student here.”
Art smiles, a hand coming up to scrub at the scruff on his face. “First year master’s student.”
“Wow.” Regulus slides his hands into his pockets. “Anthropology?”
Art nods, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “I’ve always been interested in how societies develop.”
James’ eyebrows climb, his eyes flitting between Art and Regulus. “Weasley?” he asks, jaw soft as he swallows.
“Potter, good to see you man,” Art says, and that’s when Regulus remembers that they played on the same football team back in high school.
“You—” James stutters, actually stutters, like he’s nervous or something. “You two are friends?” he asks, and Regulus thinks the redness of his cheeks might actually be jealousy. Oh, this is good. Mary used to always say the best way to get a guy is to make them jealous, and Art certainly seems to be surveying Regulus, eyes flitting up and down his body.
“You could say that,” Regulus says, angling his body towards Art, giving him a deliberate once over— he is sort of fit. “Or you could say something else,” he drawls, repeating a move Mary used to pull at pubs in year twelve.
Art’s eyes crinkle with his smile. “I’d like it if we could say something else.”
Regulus hands over his cellphone, letting Art add his number, promising to message him, and he says he’ll see him at the diner sometime soon anyway.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Art says, disappearing down a corridor, heading to a lecture.
His phone feels like a cinder block, anchoring his hand, and Regulus slides it into his bag, feeling it drop like a stone. He’ll decide about actually texting Art later. “We met at Trelawney’s,” Regulus explains. “He works there.”
“You went back to our diner?” James asks, a wrinkle between his brows, a tightness to his expression. Hearing him say that, our diner, makes Regulus feel weak in the knees.
“Yeah,” Regulus says, throat feeling suddenly dry as he watches James run a hand through his hair. “So, should we explore?” he offers, gesturing to one of the hallways.
“I—” James starts. He pulls his phone from his bag, scrolling for a second, before he glances at the door. “I forgot I have to be somewhere,” he decides, typing out a message, tucking his phone away. “But this was fun.”
“Oh,” Regulus says, feeling his shoulders sag.
“See you,” James says, turning over his shoulder, disappearing out the glass door.
Regulus watches him go until his red hoodie is a dot in the distance. “See you,” he murmurs, a punched out sigh escaping his lungs. He allows himself to collapse on a bench, pulling out his phone.
Regulus
It’s Regulus Black
The message gets sent before he can rethink it.
Notes:
This version of Regulus is so near and dear to me! He's the first version I ever wrote...
Also, he's totally clueless and totally smitten with James. Classic Jegulus stuff guys.
Anyways, I didn't post this update to promote my other works, but now I'm kinda thinking why the hell not so...
I've been writing a lot of Bartylily lately! I have a complete fic for them, Being This Young Is Art, and I'm also actively updating this wip All Bets Are Off which is a fake dating au.
I have my fair share of oneshots (some Jegulus if you like the way I write them) but y'all can click my profile for those ;)
Thanks for being here! This fic has a fair bit of subs, but who knows who will actually come read this after so long. If you are here, thank you. And if you like this lil au, thank you. Please give me your thoughts! Are we still excited about this fic? What else would you want to see? This one is sooooo unplanned haha.
Xoxo, Blossom
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