starfall

by asilyqx

Summary:

he said yes

Notes:

hi!

Chapter 1

The Great Hall hummed with the usual buzz of post-summer chatter. Students streamed to their house tables, laughter rising to the enchanted ceiling, still showing the last blush of twilight. It was the start of seventh year, and Lily Evans had told herself—again—that this would be the year everything changed.

She smoothed the front of her robes, eyes scanning the Gryffindor table. There he was—James Potter. His dark hair was its usual chaotic mess, glasses slightly askew, mouth pulled into an easy smirk as he joked with Sirius and Peter.

He looked good. Better than he had a right to, honestly.

Lily's heart did that annoying skip. This was it. No more petty fights. No more dismissive glares. He’d grown up over the summer. They all had. Maybe now, finally, she could tell him—He's dating Regulus but--

“May I have your attention!” Dumbledore’s voice rang across the hall, silencing the crowd. “Before we tuck into this splendid feast, I’d like to announce our Head Students.”

Lily sat straighter. This was her moment.

“Our Heads this year are Miss Lily Evans of Gryffindor, and—”

Her stomach did a hopeful little flip.

“—Mr. James Potter, also of Gryffindor.”

The hall burst into applause.

Lily turned her head toward James, ready to catch his eye. Ready to smile.

But he didn’t look at her. He didn’t look at Dumbledore, or the badge that had just materialized on his chest.

James twirled his wand between his fingers, nonchalant.

“Sorry, Professor,” he said, too casually, a small grin tugging at his mouth. “I can't accept.”

Dumbledore blinked. “Pardon me?”

James leaned back in his seat. “With that title, I'd be far too busy. And I’ve got... other priorities this year.”

His eyes flicked across the hall. Lily followed his gaze—

—and her heart dropped.

There, at the Slytherin table, sat Regulus Black. Composed. Elegant. Eyes cool as ever. But the barest curve of his mouth betrayed him.

Lily looked back at James.

“Moony,” James said, clapping Remus on the back, “is more than a good option. He’s better. Trust me.”

Dumbledore, ever unruffled, simply smiled and nodded. “Very well. Mr. Lupin, if you're willing?”

Remus gave James a long look—equal parts fond and exasperated—before nodding. “I suppose I am.”

As the applause resumed, Lily sat frozen. Somewhere between shock and confusion and something deeper, something a little like betrayal.

Because this was supposed to be her year. Her chance.

But James Potter only had eyes for Regulus Black.

---

James didn’t sleep through the feast. Not really. But his body was there more than his mind. He was waiting.

The Astronomy Tower was the only place that ever felt properly still. Above the castle, above the noise. The one place no one would question why a Gryffindor would vanish right after the feast.

He’d barely touched dessert.

The stars blinked into view as he climbed the final steps, the stone warm with the day’s heat still. And then—

There he was.

Leaning against the railing, backlit by moonlight, arms folded tight like he was holding himself together.

“Regulus,” James breathed.

At the sound of his voice, Regulus turned.

And then he was moving. Fast.

James barely had time to blink before Regulus launched himself forward, arms thrown around James’s neck, legs nearly leaving the ground as he jumped into him like some impossible force of nature wrapped in silk and moonlight.

“You’re here,” Regulus murmured, smile wide and stupidly beautiful, pressed against James’s shoulder. “You’re actually here.”

James’s heart bounced, then tripped over itself, flat on its face. It did not get up.

“Of course I’m here,” he whispered into Regulus’s hair, arms tightening instinctively around his waist. “Where else would I be?”

Regulus pulled back just far enough to look at him, hands still curled in the back of his robes. His eyes shimmered—not wet, exactly, but fragile in that way only Regulus Black allowed himself to be when no one else was watching.

“Three months,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“I thought—” Regulus cut himself off. Looked away. “It was stupid.”

“No,” James said, brushing his fingers along the side of Regulus’s jaw, guiding his gaze back. “Not stupid. Just hard.”

Regulus swallowed. “Still is.”

James leaned in, their foreheads touching now. “But we’re here.”

A beat of silence stretched between them. Then:

“I turned down Head Boy,” James said.

Regulus blinked. “You what?”

James smirked, brushing his thumb over Regulus’s cheek. “Told Dumbledore I had other priorities.”

Regulus’s eyes narrowed slightly in mock disapproval. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

And then—Regulus laughed. Full and real and alive.

James kissed him right there, in the middle of his laughter, tasting starlight and August on his lips.

And for the first time in three months, everything was okay again.

---

By mid-October, Regulus was suspicious.

It wasn’t the owlery visits—James was annoyingly sentimental and wrote to his parents a lot.

It wasn’t even the way he always made sure to go alone, though Regulus had started tagging along, pretending not to notice how James would subtly shift the parchment out of view.

No. It was the smile.

James had that smile. The one he wore when something ridiculous was brewing behind those hazel eyes. Mischief or madness or both. And lately, it clung to him like static. Quiet, giddy, secret.

Regulus didn’t trust it.

Sirius didn’t trust it either, though for entirely different reasons.

“I’m telling you,” Sirius whispered one November afternoon, slamming his palm dramatically on the library table, “he’s planning something. And it’s not a prank. He hasn’t pranked anyone in weeks. Weeks, Reg.”

Regulus raised a brow, unimpressed. “Maybe he’s maturing.”

Sirius scowled. “Don’t be disgusting.”

Still, Regulus didn’t disagree. James was planning something. And if it wasn’t a prank… what was it?

Which is how, on a rather cold Thursday evening, the Black brothers cornered Remus Lupin in the corridor outside the Prefects’ bathroom.

Remus had been minding his own business. Sort of. He’d just come back from talking James down from what sounded suspiciously like an anxiety spiral in the owlery, and his head was still spinning with phrases like “what if he says no, Moony” and “I had it custom-made, there are little stars on it—do you think that’s too much?”

Then—bam.

Two Black brothers. One on either side. Equal parts handsome and terrifying.

Remus gulped.

“H-hi!” he offered weakly, voice cracking with the enthusiasm of someone trying to sound normal while being hunted for information.

Sirius leaned in, casual menace. “Moony.”

Regulus, quieter but sharper, just said: “What’s he planning?”

Remus blinked. “Wh—who?”

They both just stared at him.

Remus laughed nervously. “Okay, right, James. Obviously. Look, it’s not bad, I swear.”

Regulus stepped closer. “He’s hiding things from me.”

“Only a little,” Remus squeaked.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Is it dangerous?”

Remus hesitated. “Emotionally?”

Regulus crossed his arms. “Is it about me?”

Remus looked everywhere except at them. “Uhhhhh…”

It was. James Potter was planning to propose. To Regulus Black. And Remus, being the world's least qualified keeper of secrets, had been sworn to silence.

Remus cleared his throat, sweating. “He’s just... romantic? And chaotic? I think he’s probably—probably writing you poetry. Maybe he’s... planning a date. With... a picnic. And stargazing. You know. Normal Gryffindor nonsense.”

Sirius looked like he didn’t believe a word. Regulus looked like he’d already started mentally solving the mystery himself.

Remus took a step back. “Anyway! Gotta go! Homework! Prefect things! Rules! Bye!”

And with that, he bolted.

The brothers exchanged a long, suspicious glance.

Regulus muttered, “He’s hiding something.”

Sirius sighed. “Definitely. But if it’s romantic and not life-threatening, I’ll let it slide.”

Regulus’s eyes flicked in the direction Remus had run.

“...I’m not sure I will.”

---

Regulus paced.

Fast.

Shoes tapping a nervous rhythm across the dormitory floor, hair a little messier than usual, and something sharp in his expression like he was halfway between fury and heartbreak.

“Darling,” Barty drawled from where he lay upside down on Regulus’s bed, flipping through Witch Weekly, “you’ll wear a hole in the floor.”

Evan yawned, lounging in the windowsill with his head tilted back. “Let him. Might be the only exciting thing to happen this week.”

Regulus didn’t slow down. If anything, he picked up speed.

“He’s hiding something.”

Barty blinked. “James?”

Regulus snapped toward him, eyes wide. “Yes, obviously James. Who else would I be talking about?”

Evan snorted. “Could be literally anyone, Reg. You have a whole face just for being vaguely betrayed.”

Regulus ignored him. “He’s been acting strange. He won’t let me see the letters he’s sending. He dodges when I ask what he’s doing. And Remus—Remus is twitchy.”

Barty hummed. “Remus is always twitchy.”

“No, not like this.” Regulus stopped pacing long enough to glare out the window toward the owlery. “He knows something. They both do.”

Evan cracked an eye open. “You think Potter’s cheating on you?”

Regulus whipped around. “No!”

A beat.

“I mean—” he hesitated. “No. I don’t think so. I’d know.”

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Barty rolled off the bed dramatically. “Okay. So if it’s not cheating and not a prank, then it’s either deeply personal or weirdly Gryffindor, which means... emotions.”

Evan’s voice was muffled from behind his book. “It’s always emotions with that one.”

Regulus sank into the chair by his desk, rubbing his temples. “He’s up to something. I can feel it.”

Barty crouched next to him, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Want me to spy on him for you?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “You’d enjoy that far too much.”

“Obviously.”

But Regulus just shook his head. “No. If he’s planning something… I’ll find out myself.”

He looked back toward the window, eyes narrowing.

“And when I do, it better not be something stupid.”

Because if James Potter broke his heart now—after everything—Regulus didn’t know if he’d be able to put himself back together again.

---

Evan didn’t mean to catch James Potter in the owlery. He wasn’t stalking him. He wasn’t even looking for him. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

Or, depending on your definition of morality, the wrong place with the right amount of intent.

James stood at the window, hunched over parchment, biting his lip in that terribly Gryffindor way—like writing letters was a battle and he was tragically noble for surviving it. He looked too serious. Too romantic.

Evan leaned against the doorway.

“Love letter?” he asked, voice light.

James jumped. “Bloody hell, Rosier—”

Evan smirked, sauntering forward. “You always were jumpy after writing something emotional.”

James flushed. “That was one time.”

“It was three,” Evan corrected gently, eyes flicking to the parchment now tied to the owl’s leg. “Fleamont again?”

James narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Bird business,” Evan lied easily. “Curious though. You’ve been sending letters daily. Something you want to confess?”

James stiffened—just a flicker—and Evan’s eyes gleamed. There it is.

He didn’t need full Gryffindor trust. Just a crack.

Evan leaned in, voice softening. “Relax. I’m not going to out your secret little romance. That’d be rude.”

James blinked. “It’s not a secret.”

Evan gave him a look.

“…Okay it’s a little secret,” James admitted.

“See? I’m helpful.”

And because James was—at the end of the day—a sentimental idiot with a soft spot for anyone he once snogged behind the greenhouses in sixth year, he let Evan go with a tight smile and a mumbled, “Don’t tell Reg.”

He didn’t notice the second letter Evan slipped from his bag.

Ten minutes later, Evan burst into the Slytherin dormitory like a man fleeing the scene of a murder.

“Barty,” he hissed, slamming the door, “I have a problem.”

Barty sat up slowly, frown already forming. “Did you hex someone?”

“Worse.”

“You slept with someone’s dad again?”

“Worse.”

Evan held out the letter with trembling hands.

Barty took it. Read the first line. Froze.

Then:

“Oh f—”

“I know.”

It was a letter to Fleamont Potter.

Discussing a ring.

With attached miniature sketches of Regulus’s initials, tiny star details, and an engraving idea that made even Barty—sociopathic, sharp-toothed Barty—clutch his chest.

They read it together under Barty’s enchanted canopy.

The letter was short, rushed, and achingly sincere.

Dad—The ring’s perfect, but I think he’ll like white gold more. Can you swap it before the 12th? I’m going to do it in Hogsmeade. I want it to be private. Just us. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.

Love, James

There was a long silence.

Barty blinked once. Twice.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered.

Evan nodded, face pale. “He’s going to propose.”

They looked at each other.

And then froze.

Because there was one more terrible, undeniable fact hanging in the air.

They had to lie.

To Regulus.

To Regulus Arcturus Black, who could read them like they were scrawled in ink.

“Oh no,” Evan whispered. “Oh, we’re dead. We’re going to die.”

“I cannot lie to him,” Barty hissed. “Have you seen his eyes? They’ll melt me alive.”

“We can’t tell him, Barts! It’ll ruin the surprise! It’s romantic!”

“It’s suicidal! He already thinks James is cheating! And now we’re defending him?!”

Evan groaned, clutching the letter. “Do we burn it? Hide it? Mail ourselves to Azkaban?”

“I could fake my death,” Barty offered. “He’d mourn me for like, a week.”

“You dramatic pigeon, that’s not—”

The curtains ripped open.

Regulus stood in the doorway. Cold. Calm. Regal.

“What are you whispering about?”

They both screamed.

“No—nothing!” Evan shoved the letter behind his back so fast he almost bent it. “Just… socks!”

“Underwear,” Barty corrected, far too quickly. “We’re talking about Evan’s underwear. It’s tragic.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

Evan cracked. “It’s James!”

Barty elbowed him. Hard. “He means James is probably... plotting something... stupid. Like a prank!”

Regulus crossed his arms. “So he is hiding something.”

They froze.

Regulus arched an elegant eyebrow. “Well?”

Barty gulped. Evan sweated.

And in perfect unison, they said:

“…We don’t know.”

And in that moment, both of them-Evan Rosier, talented manipulator, and Barty Crouch Jr., certified menace-were united in one paralyzing truth:

Regulus Black was terrifying

And they were going to have to lie to his face.

---

Barty had panicked.

Not in his usual, dramatic, performative way. This was real panic. The kind where Regulus was narrowing his eyes, cold and calculating, and not letting it go.

So Barty did what Barty always did when cornered.

He lied.

Spectacularly.

“He has a secret cult,” Barty blurted.

Silence.

Evan choked on his own breath.

Regulus stared. “A what.”

“A cult. Like—a Gryffindor cult. Of—of chaos and… pranks and… loudness. They probably wear red robes and chant about bravery.”

Evan was shaking his head rapidly behind Regulus, mouthing what the actual hell.

Regulus, to their eternal horror, frowned thoughtfully. “You think that’s why he’s always vanishing?”

Barty’s brain was melting. “Yes?”

“He did say something about the Gryffindor common room being ‘sacred ground,’” Regulus muttered.

Evan’s soul left his body.

“Don’t you think,” Regulus continued slowly, eyes darting, “it’s strange that he always smells like smoke on Thursdays?”

“Cult incense,” Barty said grimly. “Classic cult behavior.”

“Rituals,” Regulus whispered. “Gryffindor rituals.”

He turned and left the room like a man on a mission.

Barty collapsed face-first into his bed.

Evan stared down at him. “You idiot.”

 

---

The next morning, Sirius burst into the Gryffindor dormitory like an explosion in human form.

“JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER!”

James dropped his toast. “What the hell—”

“You’re in a cult?” Sirius shouted. “A cult?!”

James blinked. “A what?”

“A cult! Regulus told me everything. You and your weird Owlery meetings and your smoky Thursdays and your red robes and your chanting!”

Remus, half-asleep, muttered, “Oh Merlin.”

Peter screamed from under his blanket.

James stood up, bewildered. “I’m not in a cult!”

“Don’t lie to me!” Sirius yelled. “I defended you! I told him you were just a dumb Gryffindor with bad taste and too much hair gel, and now I find out you’re some ritualistic fire priest?”

“I don’t even know what that means!”

Remus groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. “Just tell them, James. Before someone accuses you of starting a revolution.”

James hesitated. Ran a hand through his hair.

Sirius stared.

James sighed. “I’m going to propose.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“…Oh,” Sirius said.

Remus peeked out from the pillow. “Finally.”

Peter sat up. “Wait, really?”

James nodded. “Next Hogsmeade weekend.”

Sirius blinked. Sat down slowly on the bed. “…Not a cult?”

“No.”

“Not even a little one?”

James gave him a look.

Sirius grinned. “Still weird as hell, mate.”

James smiled, a little crooked. “Yeah. But he’s worth it.”

Sirius Black was many things.

Loud. Reckless. Occasionally brilliant, usually insufferable.

But as he stood in the corner of the Gryffindor common room, eyes wide, hands gripping the armrest of the couch like it might anchor him to this earth, he said the words no one expected:

“I cannot lie to Regulus.”

Peter let out a strangled squeak of agreement. “Fuck, neither can I.”

James groaned from the floor, where he was pacing in a small, neurotic circle. “You lot are unbelievable.”

“He looks at me, Prongs,” Sirius said, voice raw. “He does that thing with his eyebrows and I spill state secrets. He’s too powerful.”

“He’s fifteen pounds and looks like he lost a duel with a candle,” James muttered.

Sirius clutched his heart. “And yet he terrifies me.”

Remus looked up from the table, calm as always. “It’s the 5th. You only need to hold out until the 12th.”

There was a short, hopeful pause.

Then a loud gulp.

Everyone turned.

Peter lowered a small vial and wiped his mouth.

James stared. “What the hell did you just do?”

Peter held up the empty bottle.

Remus squinted. “…Is that a Silencing Potion?”

Peter nodded.

“Pete.”

He pointed to his mouth and shrugged helplessly.

Sirius clapped a hand over his eyes. “Oh my god.”

James looked ready to weep. “You’re going to be silent for a week?”

Peter gave him a thumbs up.

Sirius nodded solemnly. “Respect. I wish I thought of that.”

Remus raised a brow. “He’s also going to miss three quizzes and Snape’s dueling exam.”

Peter's thumb slowly turned to a thumbs-down.

“Serves you right,” James muttered. “You’re all acting like I’ve given you a nuclear code. It’s a proposal. It’s romantic! Beautiful! You should be excited for us!”

“We are!” Sirius shouted. “But your boyfriend is insane and I’m allergic to betrayal! He was my baby brother before he was your lovestruck little prince!”

“He’s still your brother!” James said. “He’s just my fiancé soon!”

“Not if I panic and blurt it out over soup!”

Peter scribbled frantically on a piece of parchment:
CAN WE JUST PUT REGULUS IN A CLOSET UNTIL THE 12TH

Remus looked up. “You know what? Not the worst idea I’ve heard today.”

James threw a cushion at all of them.

---

It was the tenth.

Regulus walked into the Gryffindor common room like he owned it—which, in many ways, he did. At least emotionally. He was wrapped in one of James’s oversized Quidditch jumpers, sleeves hanging past his fingers, his hair tied in a lazy ribbon that matched nothing, and a look in his eyes that clearly said: I am here to cuddle until you forget how to breathe.

James barely had time to smile before Regulus beelined for him and dropped onto his lap like a cat claiming territory.

“Hi,” Regulus murmured, tucking his face into James’s neck.

James melted instantly. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Regulus hummed, arms wrapping around James’s waist. “Missed you.”

James swallowed. “I’ve been right here.”

Regulus didn’t move. “Still missed you.”

James kissed the top of his head and tried not to scream from guilt, nerves, and overwhelming affection all at once.

Across the room, Peter was curled on the couch. Face turned into the cushions. Blanket over his head. Clearly pretending to be asleep.

Regulus narrowed his eyes slightly. “Why is Peter… vibrating?”

James glanced over. “Er. Bad nap. Dreams.”

“Mhm.” Regulus shifted to face the fireplace, still half in James’s lap. “And why did Sirius run out the moment I walked in?”

“He—uh—had to pee?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow without even looking at him.

James cleared his throat. “Like, urgently.”

“Mhm.”

A long pause.

Regulus, eyes still on the fire, said casually, “Everyone’s been acting weird all week.”

James tensed.

Regulus went on, voice soft but pointed. “Evan’s been avoiding me. Barty’s been twitchy. Sirius literally apparates out of rooms if I blink too long. And Peter hasn’t spoken since the sixth.”

James gave a strangled laugh. “It’s… a coincidence?”

Regulus turned and looked at him.

That Black family stare. Cold. Regal. Soul-seeing.

James flinched.

“…Darling?” Regulus asked sweetly.

“Mm?”

“Is there something I should know?”

James’s heart stopped. His palms started sweating. He was sure Regulus could hear it.

And then Regulus sighed and tucked back into his neck. “Never mind. You’ll tell me if it’s important.”

James let out a breath that could’ve lifted the entire tower.

“…Right?” Regulus added.

James wrapped his arms around him tightly. “Of course.”

He didn’t see the little smirk on Regulus’s face.

Because Regulus Black wasn’t suspicious.

He knew something was going on.

And he was going to find out before the twelfth.

James had barely finished his nervous little laugh when Regulus sat up slightly, cupped his face in both hands, and looked him dead in the eye.

“I don’t care,” he said.

James blinked. “About…?”

Regulus leaned closer, expression unwavering. “Whatever you’re all doing. Whoever is lying. Whatever ridiculous Gryffindor thing you’ve gotten yourself into.”

His thumbs brushed James’s cheekbones gently. “I don’t care.”

He kissed the corner of James’s mouth—soft, lingering, like punctuation on a spell—and whispered:

“Cuddle me. Now.”

James, flustered beyond mortal comprehension, nodded quickly. “Yes. Yep. Absolutely. Immediate cuddling. No delays.”

Regulus smirked like he’d won a duel.

Because he had.

James shifted to make space on the couch, wrapping his arms around him again as Regulus all but melted into his lap, curling like a sleepy cat. One that had recently threatened war but was now ready for a nap.

From beneath the blanket, Peter let out a silent thumbs-up.

James shot him a panicked look.

Peter buried his face deeper and resumed pretending to be dead.

Regulus nuzzled into James’s chest with a satisfied hum.

“Good boy,” he whispered.

James was never recovering.

---

Regulus woke up on the 12th with one thing on his mind:
Cuddling James and maybe stealing his toast.

He stretched, cracked his knuckles and walked into the common room—

Empty.

Weird.

Barty and Evan’s usual post-nightmare, pre-plotting spot on the green couch? Vacant.

He blinked.

Sighed.

And went looking.

---

Slytherin Dungeon – 8:04 AM

Mulciber was violently scrubbing a stone bench with magic. Aggressively.

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Where’s Barty?”

Mulciber’s jaw ticked. “Not here.”

“Obviously,” Regulus said coolly. “But where?”

Antonin Dolohov glanced up from his own excessive mopping—like he was trying to erase a murder.

“He said he had… errands,” Dolohov said. His eyes twitched.

“Errands?”

“Private errands,” Dolohov clarified, sweating. “Don’t ask me. I’m not involved. I’m just cleaning.”

“You never clean.”

“I do now.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes.

Mulciber dropped his scouring brush. “We’re busy.”

“Sure,” Regulus said, stepping backward. “You lot are always busy with... elbow grease and moral decay.”

He left. Fuming.

---

Hufflepuff Corridor – 8:17 AM

“Dorcas,” Regulus called. “Have you seen Pandora?”

Dorcas Meadowes looked up from her conversation with Benjy Fenwick.

She blinked. “Who?”

Regulus stared.

“Pandora Rosier?”

Dorcas tilted her head. “Don’t think I’ve ever met her.”

Regulus: “You’re literally partnered with her for N.E.W.T. Transfiguration.”

Benjy coughed. Dorcas kept a straight face. “I think you’re mistaken.”

Regulus took a slow, measured breath.

Then turned, and walked away.

---

Great Hall – 8:30 AM

The moment he entered, Regulus knew something was wrong.

James? Nowhere.
Remus? Missing.
Peter? Still under silencing potion and hiding behind toast.

And Sirius?

Sirius Black was laughing too loudly with Marlene McKinnon, who was twitching so hard her braid nearly came undone.

Regulus walked over, graceful and terrifying.

“Sirius.”

Sirius spun. “Reg! Good morning, brother! Have you seen the toast today? Toastiest toast we’ve had all term!”

Regulus stared. “Where’s James?”

Sirius blinked. “James?”

Regulus glared.

“Oh, James. That James. Your James. Our James. No idea. Definitely not sneaking around preparing—I mean—preparing... breakfast? A surprise breakfast. For... dogs. Stray dogs. He’s saving dogs today. A real humanitarian.”

Regulus’s jaw clenched.

Marlene looked like she wanted to evaporate.

Regulus turned to Peter.

Peter slowly sank behind the marmalade jar.

Regulus folded his arms.

“Sirius,” he said flatly. “I’m going to ask one more time.”

“Can’t! Busy! Toast!”

He picked up a scone and ran.

Regulus blinked.

Then turned.

Walked out.

His face calm. Elegant. Unreadable.

But in his eyes?

A very clear message:

Someone is going to talk.

Or bleed.

---

The Hogsmeade trip was too perfect.

Snow fell in little flurries, barely settling on cloaks. The air was crisp, butterbeer was flowing, and for once, not even Rabastan had anything smug to say to Regulus when they crossed paths outside Honeydukes.

Suspicious. Deeply.

Regulus squinted at him. Rabastan gave him finger guns and ran away.

Regulus stood still. Contemplating violence.

Then, on the far bench just outside Gladrags, he saw Pandora.

She was wearing a ridiculous hat covered in glittering charms. She looked at him, said nothing, and handed him a single envelope.

She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

Just: “Step one.”

Then she vanished.

Regulus stared.

Of course.

He opened the letter.

It was written in neat, slightly nervous handwriting.

Riddle One: He knows you best, but calls you brat. He’s dramatic, loud, like a dog. And when you find him, you’ll get the next plot. Also got a biggest crush on Remus.

Regulus sighed. “Sirius.”

---

Zonko’s Joke Shop – 12:23 PM

Sirius was hiding near a wall of screaming socks and trying to look casual.

“You’re ridiculous,” Regulus said immediately.

Sirius turned. “Brother!”

“Give me the clue.”

Sirius grinned, pulled a card from his pocket, and said, “He worked very hard on this. Don’t throw it into the snow like you did with my Christmas present.”

“I thought it was a threat note.”

Sirius handed it over with a smirk. “Step two, brat.”

Regulus read:

Riddle Two: She plays it cool, but hexed Sirius for kidsing Marlene in 3rd year. Her humor’s dry, her aim’s the worst. She’ll call you ‘Reg’—Find her where the Gryffindors drink butterbeer.

Regulus blinked. “Dorcas?”

Sirius winked. “Don’t make her wait. She’s been holding in a flirt all morning.”

---

Three Broomsticks – 12:37 PM

Dorcas was at the bar with two mugs of butterbeer and zero patience.

“Took you long enough.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “I had to endure Sirius.”

“Mm. Tragic. This one's mine.” She slid over a sealed note. “Don’t crease it. And read slowly.”

Regulus opened it.

Riddle Three: The quiet one, who always sees.
With amber eyes and wolfie problem. He’s watching now, beneath the trees—Go to him, and earn your last direction.

Regulus stared. “Remus?”

Dorcas sipped her drink. “You’d better hurry. He’s cold.”

---

Shrieking Shack Path – 12:52 PM

Remus was indeed standing under a tree, coat buttoned, scarf wrapped. He held out the final envelope like it might explode.

“Regulus,” he said calmly. “Whatever you do, don’t hex me.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Regulus took the envelope and opened it.

Inside was the final riddle:

Riddle Four: You’ve followed steps, and found the end. Last one waits now, only for you.

There was a tiny note at the bottom.

Midway between the old inn and the edge of the woods. He’s waiting. Don’t kill him. Yet. —R

Remus stepped back slowly.

Regulus folded the note.

Looked up.

And smiled—sharp and dangerous.

“Two days,” he muttered. “Two days everyone’s been lying to me.”

Remus nodded gravely.

“And you all planned this?”

Remus just said, “You look good when you’re furious. Go.”

Regulus turned and stalked toward the woods, scarf trailing behind him, fists clenched.

And he had no idea—

James Potter was already there.

Still pacing.

Still rehearsing.

Still about to combust.

---

James was pacing.

Which was to say: spiraling, sweating, and whispering full monologues to a very unsympathetic tree stump.

“He likes white gold, right?” he muttered. “Not silver. White gold. It's different. Subtle. Regal. Like him. Ugh.”

The box sat in his pocket. A charm kept it from thudding as he walked.

He stopped. Turned. Paced again. Hands in hair. Deep breath. Failed breath.

And then—

Crunch.

Snow.

Footsteps.

James froze.

Turned.

Regulus was there.

Wrapped in winter black, eyes wide and bright from wind, scarf loose, curls barely tamed.

He looked like something out of a dream. Or maybe just a very specific kind of fairytale—the dangerous kind, where you fall in love too hard and never recover.

James opened his mouth.

Regulus was already walking.

Not stalking. Not striding.

Walking.

Softly.

Like all the suspicion, all the riddles, all the maddening clues had evaporated the second he saw him.

James. His James.

When he reached him, he didn’t speak.

He just pressed his hands to James’s chest and rested his forehead there, breathing him in.

James’s heart almost fell out of his ribs.

“You’re the worst,” Regulus whispered.

James laughed shakily. “You figured it out.”

“No. Remus sold you out with a tree riddle and Sirius basically screamed, ‘he’s hiding something!’ every time I blinked.”

“…Ah.”

Regulus tilted his head up. “But it’s you.”

James smiled, heart stumbling.

Regulus brushed a hand over his cheek. “And you make everything stupid feel… worth it.”

James kissed his fingers.

And just like that, the whole plan, the pacing, the panic—none of it mattered.

Because Regulus was here.

And he looked like home.

Regulus didn’t say anything when James kissed his hair.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t tease.

He just leaned closer, eyes shut, letting the world go quiet around them.

And then—

The warmth vanished.

He opened his eyes.

James was no longer standing.

He was kneeling.

On one knee.

In the snow.

Looking up at him with the kind of adoration that burned.

Regulus blinked.

James opened his mouth—and then closed it again, because suddenly words were too big for his throat.

So he reached into his coat pocket. Slowly.

Pulled out a small velvet box.

And opened it.

Inside: a white gold band. Understated. Elegant. Quietly brilliant.

Just like him.

“I didn’t rehearse this part,” James said. His voice shook. “I tried, but I forgot everything the second you walked up.”

Regulus just stared. Unbreathing.

“So,” James said softly. “I’m just going to say what’s true.”

He swallowed. Looked him right in the eye.

“I’ve loved you since you threatened to hex me for stealing your favorite quill. I think I loved you even before that—I just didn’t have a name for it yet.”

Snow dusted his shoulders. His lashes. His voice cracked.

“And I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. Even when you’re grumpy. Even when you make terrifying lists. Even when you scare literal professors with a look.”

A breath. A pause.

“Regulus Arcturus Black,” he whispered, holding up the ring, “will you marry me?”

Regulus didn’t move for a second.

And then he dropped.

Not fainting.

Just falling—to his knees in front of him.

He grabbed James’s stupid Gryffindor coat and kissed him like gravity didn’t exist.

Snow scattered as they tumbled slightly, laughing into the kiss, ring forgotten for a breath until Regulus pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips:

“Yes.”

Chapter 2

Notes:

part 2 as requested

The snow crunched softly beneath their boots as they walked back to Hogwarts, hand in hand, the cold forgotten.

James squeezed Regulus's fingers. "So. I’m engaged now."

Regulus snorted. "You proposed. You're the one with the dramatic title."

"Oh right, forgive me," James teased. "What should I call you now? Fiancé of my dreams? Husband-to-be? Black of my heart?"

"Call me that again in front of Evan and he will never let us live it down."

James grinned, then leaned over to kiss the side of Regulus's head, his lips brushing just above his ear. Regulus rolled his eyes, but didn’t move away. His cheeks were pink, though not entirely from the cold.

They strolled up the path at a gentle pace, Hogwarts looming like a castle out of myth in the early evening light. The lake glistened, the towers glowing with candlelight. The sky was that wintery sort of pale, ready to deepen into twilight.

Regulus tightened his grip slightly. "You did it."

James looked over. "You said yes."

They stopped just before the front steps.

Regulus pulled James in by his scarf and kissed him again, slower this time. Intentional. With all the softness and finality of someone who'd decided something without hesitation.

They didn't say anything else until the castle doors opened and warmth spilled out to greet them.

---

The moment they walked through the main doors, holding hands, something shifted.

Everyone knew.

They didn't announce it. They didn't have to.

The ring glittered faintly under torchlight. Their fingers were still intertwined. Regulus looked impossibly calm.

James looked like he had just won every Quidditch match of his life.

Sirius saw them first.

He took one step toward them, stopped, and blinked very fast.

Then he just—cracked. Laughing and crying all at once, because that was Sirius, all storm and feeling. He launched himself at James, hugged him like he was about to disappear, then pulled back and grabbed Regulus just as fiercely.

"You little bastard," he whispered. "I didn't think you'd let him."

Regulus snorted, voice muffled by Sirius's coat. "I didn’t either."

James laughed, too hard and too happy to speak, and just kept holding onto both of them.

From the edge of the hall, Lily stood completely still.

She had come downstairs the moment she heard they were back. Her heart had been pounding. Not because she expected anything, not really. But there had always been a maybe tucked into the corners of her chest.

A maybe she'd been carefully, stubbornly feeding for years.

And now it was dead.

The way James looked at Regulus—like the sun rose when he blinked—told her everything.

Lily turned and left before anyone could see her cry.

Except someone did.

Mary Macdonald followed her a moment later, jaw tight.

She had wanted James to notice. Not even to say anything. Just... to see.

He didn't.

And it wasn’t cruelty. It wasn’t callousness.

It was love.

Real and blinding.

Mary let the doors close behind them. Let James keep laughing.

Let Lily break in peace.

---

Across the hall, Regulus was being tackled.

Barty wrapped his arms around him like a lasso, nearly knocking them both into a statue.

"You bastard, you said you didn’t believe in marriage!"

"I don’t," Regulus said. "Except for him."

Barty groaned. Evan made a horrible squealing noise and hugged them both.

James grinned helplessly. "You knew, didn’t you?"

"Stole your letter, Potter," Evan sang.

Regulus turned. "You what?"

"It's fine! We didn't read it!" Barty shouted quickly. "I mean, we did, but only to protect the integrity of your surprise!"

Regulus stared at them both.

Evan pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered, "You deserve this."

That shut him up.

Pandora showed up moments later, silent as snow, and dropped a pouch of enchanted crystals into Regulus’s palm.

"Good luck," she said, kissing both their cheeks. "Keep them close. They hum when you're safe."

James looked vaguely enchanted. Regulus looked like he might cry again, which was ridiculous, so he turned and kissed James instead.

Across the room, Remus stood beside Peter, quietly observing.

He hadn’t said much.

Not when James told him the plan. Not when he got cornered by both Black brothers. Not when he watched his best friend lose his mind over picking the right ring.

But now?

Now, he smiled.

Not a quick grin. Not a sharp smirk.

A real smile.

Because it was done. Because it was right. Because, for once, nothing was about to fall apart.

Remus turned to Peter and said, softly, "They'll be alright."

Peter nodded. Still silent. Still holding the empty vial from his silencing potion.

And above them all, snow began to drift past the high windows. Quiet. Steady. Gentle.

A winter blessing.

For what came next.

---

Regulus slammed the dorm room door shut with a flick of his wand.

James barely had time to blink before he was shoved up against it, back thudding lightly against wood, breath knocked from his lungs.

Regulus stepped in close.

Real close.

Then closer.

He got on his tiptoes—eyes sharp, lips twitching, palms flat on James’s chest—and stared him down.

“Hi,” he said sweetly, “fiancé.”

James groaned, hands coming up to grip his waist. “You’re wrecked.”

“I’m elated.”

“You’ve had champagne.”

“I’ve had a lot of champagne.”

Regulus's smirk turned smug. “And I’m taller than you now. Victory is mine.”

James snorted. “You’re literally on your toes.”

“Still counts.”

“Doesn’t.”

“Does.”

And then James, with no warning, bent and hooked an arm under Regulus’s thighs.

Regulus yelped—half laughter, half indignant squawk—as James picked him up like he weighed nothing.

“James Fleamont Potter, put me down!”

“Never,” James said smugly, turning and walking them toward his bed like it was his god-given right.

Regulus wrapped his arms around his neck, mock-glaring.

“This is not how you treat your fiancé.”

“Oh, I haven’t started treating my fiancé yet,” James muttered, eyes darkening just slightly. “You want to test me, Black?”

Regulus hummed, then leaned in close to his ear. “I’m counting on it.”

They hit the bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter, snow melting off boots, hearts still racing with the memory of the yes that changed everything.

Notes:

i love them i love them i love them i love them

Notes:

they're so soft.