Chapter Text
James Potter isn’t a smoker. He’s certainly not the kind of guy to light up a joint. In fact, he’s never even touched weed before. And yet, here he is—shoulders tense, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie—navigating a dodgy alleyway in Peckham on his way to pick up.
He tells himself there’s no real danger. Realistically, he’s more of a threat than whatever scrawny dealer he’s about to meet—180 pounds of muscle, captain of the soccer team, quick on his feet. He could take someone in a fight if it came to that. But that doesn’t do much to quiet the knot twisting in his gut.
He glances down at his flip phone, adjusting his glasses as the screen casts a faint blue glow on his face.
“Blenheim Grove. 9:30. Bring 60 cash.”
Short, blunt, and sketchy as hell. Just like the alley he’s heading into.
Sirius does this all the time, James reminds himself, as if channeling his best friend’s recklessness might somehow make him feel less like he’s walking into a dodgy side quest. Still, his stomach twists when he spots the figure up ahead—hood up, back turned, standing perfectly still like they’re in a horror film and the dealer. Brilliant!
James swallows, clears his throat, and steps forward like this is totally normal. Like he’s not one wrong move away from starring in the early morning news.
“Hey, mate,” he calls out, voice wobbling somewhere between friendly and please don’t stab me.
The figure doesn’t move. Doesn’t even turn.
Cool. Fantastic. Love this for him.
The figure finally turns, just enough for James to catch a glimpse of his unimpressed expression under the flickering streetlight. He’s scrawny, maybe 5'5", with a black hoodie drawn tight over his frame, the shadows swallowing most of his silhouette.
James had been expecting someone... taller. Or at least someone who looked less like a gremlin who sells knock-off headphones behind the bus stop.
“You’re not Lily.” He says.
“Right—yeah. She, uh… asked me to grab it instead. Sorry? ” He tries a sheepish smile, like that might somehow soften the vibe.
“It’s a hundred.”
James blinks. “What? You said sixty.”
The guy shrugs, all deadpan. “Yeah, for Lily. You’re not Lily. Hundred or no deal.”
James stares at him, deeply offended on principle. “What, do I not look trustworthy?”
“Do you want it or not?”
James sighs and starts to pull out his wallet, already regretting every life choice that brought him here. He hesitates halfway, then looks the guy dead in the eyes. There’s something about him—something off, but weirdly familiar. James can’t put his finger on it, but it’s there, gnawing at the edge of recognition like a name you can’t quite remember.
“Can you at least take your hood off?”
“Why?”
James shrugs. “I don’t know, so I can tell the police what you looked like if I get stabbed?”
The guy narrows his eyes, deadpan. “Fuck off, private trash.”
And that’s when it clicks.
James blinks. “Regulus?”
The guy stiffens. Just slightly.
“Who?”
“Regulus—what the hell?” James steps forward, squinting under the hood. “It is you. Are you seriously dealing?!”
Regulus scoffs, looking away. “You gonna cry about it, Potter?”
James opens his mouth to fire back—but hesitates.
Because no matter how sharp Regulus’s tongue is now, James can’t shake the image of him as that scrawny, sulky twelve-year-old Sirius used to haul around by the collar. All attitude, all bark. Too small for his jumper and too proud to admit when he was scared.
And now here he is, selling weed in a sketchy alley like it's no big deal.
James suddenly doesn’t feel annoyed. He feels—protective. And kind of sick.
“Why are you here?”
Regulus lifts an eyebrow. “ ‘Could ask you the same thing,”
James huffs. “I’m picking up for Lily, as we’ve clearly established.”
Regulus snorts.
“ Also —what the fuck, mate? A hundred for seven grams? Don’t scam me,” James starts to protest more, then stops himself with a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. This is ridiculous.
“You know what? Fine.” He shoves the crumpled notes into Regulus’s hand. “Enjoy your scam money.”
Regulus pockets it without blinking.
James watches him for a second, something tight settling in his chest. It’s a strange kind of guilt—the kind that comes from seeing Sirius’s little brother in some grim alleyway, doing things James never thought he'd see him do.
Jesus, James thinks , What would Sirius think?
His mind spins for a moment, trying to latch onto something, anything, he could say to fix this, to pull Regulus out of whatever hole he’s found himself in. But James isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. He’s never been the type for deep, meaningful interventions. And what’s he supposed to say to a guy who’s got a hoodie pulled so tight around his face that even the shadows can’t find him?
He can’t just stand here and let Regulus slip through his fingers like everyone else. He has to try—he has to.
He shifts on his feet, voice quieter now. “But seriously... are you okay?”
“Fuck off.”
“Alright, I will. But can you at least tell me how you got into this?” James steps closer, despite every instinct telling him not to.
Regulus lets out a dramatic sigh, flipping down his hoodie to reveal a thick head of curls. “If I do, will you actually go away? I do have other clients, you know.”
“Yes.”
Regulus hesitates for just a beat, “I’m selling for Barty.”
James’s brows furrow. “Why?”
If there’s one person James Potter hates more than Severus Snape, it’s Barty Crouch Jr. Barty’s the kind of arrogant, loudmouthed know-it-all who’s never met a rule he didn’t want to break. He’s the type to burn every bridge in sight and leave a trail of scorched earth behind him. In fact, Barty thrives on chaos—he’s the kind of guy who manages to churn through twenty friendship groups in a year, always creating drama wherever he goes. It’s like he’s addicted to the mess he causes, constantly stirring things up just for the hell of it.
Regulus shoots him a glare that’s sharp enough to cut. “You said you’d fuck off.”
“I’m trying to help you!”
“Then fuck off! ” Regulus laughs, the sound low and biting, his eyebrows arched in challenge as if James is the absolute worst thing to have ever crossed his path.
James doesn’t back down. “Regulus, come on. How much do you owe him?”
The question hangs in the air, thick with everything James isn’t saying. Regulus doesn’t respond right away, eyes flickering to the ground, then the street, anywhere but at James.
But his silence says everything.
James takes a deep breath, trying to push past the frustration knotting in his chest. “Okay. Look, I’m going to a party at Mary’s tonight. Come. Or at least let me drive you home,”
Regulus looks up at him, confused. “What?”
James gestures towards the street. “Come. My car’s just over there.”
Regulus stares at him like he’s just spoken a foreign language. “You brought your fucking car to this side of town?”
“…Yeah?”
Regulus rolls his eyes and mutters, “ Unbelievable .” He looks away, clearly irritated. “Look, I gotta sell this shit, alright? So leave me alone, unless you’ve got 500 lying around to make it worth my while.”
James pauses. He wasn’t exactly fond of Regulus, but he knew Sirius was— is? It’s complicated. Still, he’d feel ridiculously guilty if he just left Regulus here, in the cold, dark, scary alley. He can’t in good conscientiousness leave Sirius’ little brother here. So, with a sigh, James begrudgingly pulls out his wallet, takes out all the cash he has, and counts it in his hand.
“I’ve got 650. Is that good enough?”
Regulus just stares at him, his mouth hanging open. “Why the fuck would you bring that much? Are you asking to be mugged?”
“Shut up. I’ve never done this before.” James shoves the cash towards him. “Just take it and come with me.”
Regulus eyes the money for a beat, then looks up at James, his face painted with disbelief. Without another word, he pockets the cash. “You’re insane.”
“Yeah, well, you’re welcome and all,” James says dryly, crossing his arms, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite the situation. "Now, get in the car before I change my mind."
Regulus rolls his eyes, but there’s a resigned look in his eyes as he finally takes a step towards James. They drive for 10 minutes in silence, James isn’t sure how he’s going to explain this to Sirius.
questions—what the hell is Regulus doing in your car?—and he doesn't have an answer for it.
"So," James starts, attempting to break the silence, but Regulus cuts him off before he can say anything more.
"Can I turn on the radio?"
"Sure."
Regulus reaches over, flicking the dial without a word. He scrolls through a few stations, then settles on Depeche Mode’s Enjoy the Silence . James didn’t pick Regulus for an alternative rock type of person, but he couldn’t exactly picture Regulus listening to anything.
"You can turn the heating on, too, if you want," James mutters absent-mindedly, eyes on the road.
Regulus glances at him, eyebrow arched like he’s just asked something completely ludicrous. "You've got heating in your car?"
James looks at him like he’s just asked if James knows how to breathe. “Yeah...?”
Regulus rolls his eyes, and James chuckles under his breath. Regulus cranks the heat up to full blast. Within seconds, the car is sweltering, like they’re sitting in an oven. James cracks the window just a little, trying to keep the temperature somewhere below ‘broiling.’
"I have one of Remus' leather jackets in the back if you're cold," James offers with a shrug.
"I'm fine," Regulus mutters, tugging his hoodie tighter around him, clearly ignoring the fact that his face has probably gone red from the heat.
"Cool..." James glances at him, then keeps his eyes on the road. The silence stretches between them like a thick blanket. "So... am I taking you home or to Mary’s?”
Regulus doesn't immediately answer, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Do you know where Pandora lives?"
James nods. "Yeah."
"Can you take me there?"
"Sure, I can. But she’s coming to Mary’s tonight," James says, flicking on the indicator as they turn. "If you want, I can go in and grab her for you?”
Regulus doesn’t respond right away. He pulls out his phone, scrolling with the kind of grim resignation James recognises from exam results and family group chats.
“I think everyone’s going,” Regulus mutters, staring at the screen like it personally offended him. He sighs, shoving the phone back into his pocket. “Guess I don’t really have a choice.”
James starts, “Well, I could—”
“I’m not going home,” Regulus cuts in, slouched deeper into the passenger seat. “It’s fine. Besides, I’m sure the others’ll be thrilled to have more spliff. Might even throw me a parade.”
James snorts. “Only if it’s a really sketchy parade with broken fairy lights and someone passed out on the lawn.”
Regulus hums. “Sounds like Mary’s parties, yeah.”
The car slips into another stretch of silence. It’s only twenty minutes to Mary’s, but it feels longer with the weight of whatever this weird tension is. James doesn’t mind silence—he actually quite likes it when it’s the right kind. This one, though, feels like waiting for a bomb to go off.
Regulus finally breaks it. “You gonna tell me why you were picking up for Lily?”
James smirks. “Only if you tell me why she gets a discount.”
Regulus side-eyes him. “Deal. But just so we’re clear—it’s not like that.”
James holds up a hand, mock-serious. “Swear on Remus’ record collection.”
Regulus snorts. “Fine.”
James leans back in his seat, hands loose on the wheel. “She asked me to do it, which is weird, ‘cause she usually either asks Sirius or just handles it herself. And yeah, I don’t know if you picked up on it, but I’ve literally never done this before. I was expecting, like, a guy with cigarettes and a man bun—not... you.”
Regulus raises a brow. “Charming.”
“I’m just saying! Anyway, she asked, and I couldn’t really say no. I’d feel bad if she was out this way alone.”
“And,” Regulus adds dryly, “not to mention your wildly obvious crush on her.”
James groans. “Are you all psychic or just incredibly mean?”
Regulus shrugs, like it’s barely worth the energy. “You say that like it’s some well-kept secret. Everyone knows you fancy her, Potter. Hell, I’m pretty sure she knows.”
James mutters, “Brilliant. Love that for me. Right you now,”
Regulus leans back in the seat, arms crossed. “There’s no discount.”
James glances over. “What?”
“I just bumped up the price when she didn’t show up. Figured if I had to deal with you instead, I deserved hazard pay.”
“You’re a dick.”
Regulus smirks. “And yet, you still paid.”
****************
Marlene sends James two more texts. Both are left on read.
With an eye-roll, she pockets her phone. The party’s loud—bass shaking the floorboards, conversations overlapping in every corner. Mary’s strung up those cheap blue LED lights that bathe the room in a low, electric glow, that with enough alcohol, makes everyone look just attractive enough to fuck.
Marlene leans against the kitchen counter, nursing a vodka Coke and trying not to look as bored as she feels. She’s stationed herself near the liquor—prime position for top-ups and people-watching—waiting for James or Remus to show. Normally she’d stick with Sirius if James is M.I.A, but he’s long gone, stumbling through the house in his ridiculous black sunnies, shouting nonsense and orbiting Lily and Mary like some overconfident satellite. If she didn’t know him, she’d think he was a complete wanker.
Marlene thinks she’s slowly beginning to understand why Remus hates these kinds of things—parties, that is. Well more correctly stated – these types of parties, where everyone’s too busy watching each other, waiting, stalking, performing. The whole thing feels like a game no one wants to admit they’re playing. No one’s actually having fun—except Sirius, of course, because nothing ever touches him. The rest of them are just circling, waiting for someone to fuck up. They don’t want a good night; they want a story.
Truth is, Marlene wouldn’t normally make the cut for one of Mary’s parties. The only reason she’s on the list now is because she’s been orbiting James and Sirius—and people have noticed. She figures it’s a test, probably Lily’s, to see how long she can keep her head above water without choking.
Her phone buzzes. A message from Remus.
Just picked up Pete. On our way. Is James there yet?
She thumbs back a quick reply:
👎 nope.
Marlene goes back to watching. Sirius tucks a curl behind Pandora’s ear, leaning in to whisper something that makes her giggle—cheeks all flushed and stupid in the glow of those cheap blue lights. Marlene’s grip on her glass tightens. There’s a twist in her chest she tries to ignore, but the knot in her stomach won’t budge. Remus is going to be thrilled.
“Marlene?”
She turns, momentarily caught off guard, then spots Lottie—Remus’ little sister. Same year as Pandora, with long, sandy-blonde hair that curled naturally at the ends. Butterscotch skin with wide doe eyes, like she hadn’t yet learnt to put walls up. They’d played on the girls’ soccer team together the past two years—Lottie ran harder and faster than anyone, and still, she’d apologise every time she scored.
“Lottie,” Marlene says, raising an eyebrow. “Does Remus know you’re here?”
Lottie laughs, a little sheepish. “Uh—no. Not exactly.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m really glad I ran into you, though. Panda asked me to come since Regulus is working, but then she kind of… disappeared.”
Marlene follows Lottie’s gaze across the room, eyes locking on Sirius and Pandora, tangled too close on the couch. Sirius has his arm slung possessively behind her, his grin way too practiced. Pandora’s animated, but Marlene knows Sirius isn’t actually listening—he’s just playing the part, flirting for show.
“Why does he always go for the bloody tenth graders?” Marlene mutters, the words slipping out before she can catch them.
Lottie snorts. “Jeez, Marlene — didn’t peg Sirius as your type.”
Marlene stiffens, snapping her head back to Lottie caught off guard the second time by the girl tonight. “What? No. Gross,” she says, voice sharper than she means it. She snatches up her drink and takes a long, deliberate sip, trying to wash the words down before they stick. “I just think it’s pathetic, is all. He’s practically married to Remus anyways.”
Lottie raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push. “Right. Totally.” Her eyes are sharp despite the natural softness to them, glinting with a curiosity like she wants to ask more, but she doesn’t. She lets the moment hang for a beat, then smiles. “So, you going to show me where the drinks are?”
—----
James is three minutes out from Mary’s, gripping the wheel like it’ll shield him from the inevitable chaos of explaining to Sirius why he just chauffeured his half - estranged little brother (it’s complicated) to a party said brother wasn’t even technically invited to.
With any luck, Sirius is already halfway to blackout and won’t notice—or care.
As they turn onto the street, Regulus shifts in his seat. “Hey,” he says, almost too casually.
James doesn’t look away from the road. “Yes?”
There’s a pause, then: “I never actually thanked you. So… thanks. For earlier. And all that.”
James raises an eyebrow but doesn’t turn. “Christ, Regulus. You trying to make me emotional?”
Regulus snorts. “God forbid. I’d rather walk.”
“You’re welcome,” James says, smirking. “And you’re buying me chips later to make up for this.”
“Deal.”
There’s a beat of quiet, and then Regulus adds, more hesitant this time, “Hey—also…”
James glances at him, sensing the shift. Regulus is sitting a little smaller in his seat now, arms folded tighter.
“I know you and Sirius are best mates and all, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to him. He’s got this habit of trying to ‘protect’ me or whatever, and it usually just makes everything worse.”
James nods slowly, eyes flicking back to the road. “Got it. Not a word.”
Regulus exhales like he’s been holding it in the whole ride.
“You okay?” James asks, voice softer now.
Regulus doesn’t answer right away. “Do you want to smoke a joint?”
****************
Remus knocks on Mary’s door at least thirty times before it finally swings open.
Standing there is Marlene, half-laughing like she’d been mid-sentence — and next to her, is his little sister.
“Lottie?” Remus blinks. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Remus watches Lottie shrug with that casual, almost too-cool stance—arms crossed like she’s got nothing to prove, “Pandora dragged me,” she says, but he can see right through it. She’s practically a sweating ball of nerves. Underneath, she’s practically a sweating ball of nerves.
Though they’re only a year apart, Remus has always seen her as just that—his little sister. Still a kid, no matter how hard she tries to act otherwise. God, this is probably her first time out at a party like this.
A knot tightens in his stomach. He shouldn’t even be here. It had been hard enough convincing Poppy, their foster mum, that he was just crashing at Sirius’—no parties involved. He wonders how Lottie managed to get the same okay.
So, as always, Remus falls back on what he knows best: planning. He has a plan for everything, which means tonight won’t be any different. If anything goes wrong, he’ll be ready. He promises himself he’ll watch her every second. If things spiral, he’ll be the one to pull her out—no questions asked. No one is getting near her while he’s around.
He’ll make sure she’s out by midnight. Let her think she stayed out late, but really, she’ll be home safe before the night’s even halfway gone.
Marlene grins, cutting him out of his thoughts. “Don’t worry, she’s being supervised.”
Remus gives her a pointed look. “By you?”
“By the vodka!” Marlene says sweetly, stepping aside to let them in.
Remus and Peter step into Mary’s living room, and Remus immediately feels his shoulders relax. There are more people than usual, which, in his experience, means fewer eyes on him (and hopefully Lottie). It’s a lot easier to blend into the background, especially with all the loud chatter and clinking glasses filling the air.
Peter, already scanning the room for friends - presumably Sirius, pulls out his pack of Camel Blues. Remus watches him, his gaze lingering longer than he cares to admit. God, he needs a smoke — just one to calm his nerves, but he knows it’s never “just one” with Peter.
Peter catches his eye, his grin turning even more devilish. “Shall we step outside, lad?” he asks, tapping the pack against his palm.
Remus sighs, wiping a hand over his face. “I suppose so. James isn’t here yet?” he directs the question to Marlene, who’s casually following behind them.
“No, unfortunately,” Marlene says, voice dripping with sarcasm as she raises an eyebrow. “But I am.”
Remus glances at her, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re an absolute delight , Marlene.”
Remus watches as Peter pulls out the cigarettes, the familiar, comforting rustle of the pack making his fingers itch to have one. He leans against the patio’s railing trying to appear casual, though the sharp air, distant hum of music inside and his baby sister being here makes him feel slightly more on edge than usual.
“Now, would you boys spare two lovely ladies a ciggie?” Marlene says, her tone light, playful, as she gestures between herself and Lottie. She’s leaning against the wall with an easy confidence, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Lottie stands close to Marlene, eyes wide and nervous. Oh, Remus watches her and thinks, She’s scared of smoking—scared she’ll choke and make a fool of herself. Not that he’d let her near one anyway, but somehow knowing this makes it easier to breathe. At least she won’t start something she can’t handle.
“No way, Lott. You’re off-limits,” Remus says without thinking, eyes flicking to her like he’s already made the rule.
Lottie rolls her eyes, shooting him a playful glare. “Please, I’m not five. I can handle a smoke.”
Peter grins, snapping open the pack like it’s some forbidden treasure. “Nuh - uh- uh, Moony, these are my smokes. I get to decide who’s worthy.” He winks at Marlene, holding out a cigarette with a mock ceremony.
Remus sighs, the soft laugh escaping his lips despite himself. “Sure Pete,,” he mutters, watching as Peter lights one ip and hands it to Marlene.
Lottie, looking slightly left out, raises her eyebrows. “What? No sharing with me?”
Remus chuckles and shakes his head, a little relieved that Lottie isn’t taking the whole thing too seriously. “You’re not getting one until you prove you can handle it without turning into a choking mess.”
Lottie sticks her tongue out at him, but it’s all in good fun. Meanwhile, Peter takes a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up into the chilly night air.
“Here,” Marlene says with a sly smile, holding the cigarette out toward Lottie. “You can bum puff off me.” Remus watches her eyes gleam beneath the dark grey shadow smudged over her blue lids, the smoky liner trailing under her lashes and giving her an almost ethereal edge. If he wasn’t absolutely, hopelessly gay, he’d probably have the biggest crush on her.
He figures one hit can’t hurt—if anything, the taste’ll probably turn Lottie off for good. She’s always had more of a sweet tooth anyway, not much stomach for anything bitter or burnt.
Remus taps Peter’s shoulder, already finished with the first cigarette, not even paying attention to how quickly he’d smoked it. He holds out his hand for another, the craving already creeping back.
Peter just grins, handing him another cigarette. "You’re really going to burn through these at this rate," he teases, but Remus just shrugs, taking the cigarette and lighting it up.
“So where’s Sirius?” Peter asks, curious.
“In true Sirius fashion,” Marlene smirks, “he’s already drunk, orbiting around the girls like orbiting the girls like some desperate groupie, attention-whore. You know the drill.”
Remus lets out a forced chuckle, shaking his head. " Classic. "
Of course, knowing Sirius, he’s probably already snogged half the grade by now. He’s either draped across some poor girl on the couch, whispering god-knows-what in her ear, or tracing his fingers through her hair—maybe lower, skimming her throat, maybe even slipping a hand somewhere it doesn’t belong. Remus can already feel the impending discomfort of walking into the chaos. He really should just stay outside. It’s probably best not to witness Sirius’ usual antics. It’s not like it bothers him, but the mess that usually comes after? That he could do without. He doesn’t have the energy. Not when he’s already on edge keeping an eye on Lottie. She’s the priority tonight. Not Sirius, and definitely not whoever he is or isn’t fucking.
Lottie, who has been quiet up until now, suddenly coughs aggressively as she takes a drag from Marlene’s cigarette. Remus can't help but laugh at the sight.
“Hey, not cool,” Lottie shoots back, still coughing. “We all start somewhere, alright?” Her tone is playful, but there’s a hint of defiance in it that makes Remus laugh even harder.
Remus chuckles, shaking his head fondly as he ruffles Lottie’s hair. “Sure.That’s your last hit for tonight Dove.”
Lottie swats his hand away, grinning. “Don’t patronise me, Remus.”
Marlene, chimes in looking up from her phone. “Guess who just showed up?”
“James?” Peter and Remus say at the same time.
“Bing bing bing! Looks like he’s already drunk though,” Marlene says with a smirk, holding up her phone for the others to crowd around. They all peer at the message she just received, full of typos.
“Gweher”
“Her @ part”
“I outside”
“Wait, he was driving though?” Remus says, furrowing his brow as he leans in to get better view of the messages.
****************
James has never been high in his life—until tonight. He’s not entirely sure what possessed him to agree to smoke a joint with Regulus in the first place. But there was something about the way Regulus’s grey eyes glimmered under the dim glow of the car’s interior lights, a softness in his gaze that made James cave as soon as the question came out of Reggie’s mouth.
He watched Regulus roll it with steady fingers, like he’d done it a thousand times before. They passed it back and forth in silence at first, the windows fogging up, the radio a dull hum beneath their breaths. . James coughed—more than once—awkward and a little self-conscious. But if Regulus noticed, he didn’t say anything. Just kept his gaze fixed out the window, expression unreadable.
James sat there, unsure if it was even working. Everything felt quiet in a weird, stretched-out way. Heavy. Awkward. And then—soft and slow—it hit him. Warmth pooling behind his eyes, everything tilting just a little off-center. Suddenly, James couldn’t stop talking
He already had a reputation for being a loud and ‘rather annoying talker,’ courtesy of Lily Evans, but now it felt like his mouth had detached from his brain entirely. Words spilled out like a flood. Every thought, every feeling, every ridiculous observation tumbled into the space between them, and Regulus just sat there, half-listening, half-smiling.
Eventually James had started to ask questions, self conscious that he was being annoying, or talking too much (he definitely was). He’d asked Regulus about school first —- safe territory. Subjects: James learned that Regulus had a soft spot for English and took music, but harbored a dramatic, almost theatrical hatred for science. Classmates: apparently, Regulus mostly hung around with Pandora, her twin Evan, and Lottie—names James vaguely recognised. Teachers: Regulus, with surprising venom, confessed to despising Flitwick—not for anything recent, but for failing him in History three years ago, which he clearly hadn’t forgiven.
Then came music. James couldn’t help himself; he launched into all his Britpop favourites unable to stop himself from babbling—Blur (of course), Pulp, Suede—but swore off Oasis with passionate disgust (because Blur is better!). Regulus countered with Depeche Mode, The Cure, The Strokes, and Elliott Smith. But when Gorillaz came up—and then Bowie, it had cracked something open. Suddenly they were trading songs, lyrics and half-remembered facts. James mentioned his dad playing Hunky Dory in the kitchen when he was five, and Regulus said he used to fall asleep to Low. Something about that felt weirdly… intimate.
After that, they spiraled into heavier territory—life, death, the big questions. It wasn’t planned, just... inevitable. That kind of talk always finds you late nights in a fogged-up car with the scent of weed clinging to your sleeves and the radio playing something moody in the background.
They’d been parked down the street for nearly an hour before they finally decided to walk to the house. Regulus had started laughing at James—no real reason, just the sight of him, and it was enough to set him off into uncontrollable fits of laughter. And of course, James couldn't help but laugh along, his own chuckles mingling with Regulus’s. Was he high? He wasn’t even sure. Nothing felt out of the ordinary, but everything felt absurd. Like they were two characters in some weird little comedy, and neither of them knew how they ended up in this ridiculous scene. But it didn’t matter. It was just funny.
“Do you hear that?” James asks, his eyes widening as he tries to focus on the sound. He closes the car door, stepping outside for the first time in what feels like years… had it only been an hour? It felt like they were talking for five.
“What?” Regulus asks, still chuckling lightly.
“It sounds like music,” James murmurs, brow furrowed as he tilts his head. There’s something in the air—no, everything in the air. The hum of the radio, the wind brushing the car, the soft inhale-exhale of Regulus beside him. It all feels layered, textured, like the whole world is a song he hadn’t known he’d been missing.
“Can you hear that?” he asks, eyes wide. “It’s like… everything’s louder. Clearer.” His voice is quiet but urgent, wonder threading through it. It’s not just sound—it’s sensation. Like all his senses have woken up at once, stretching out after a long sleep. Is that normal? Is this what being high feels like? He swallows, blinking hard. Everything is sharp and slow all at once. It’s overwhelming and kind of beautiful.
Regulus pauses, giving him a confused look. “What the fuck?” he says flatly—before doubling over in laughter, full-body, shoulder-shaking kind. He nearly topples off the curb, wheezing, his lighter almost slipping from his fingers.
“No, like—” James continues, his voice utterly earnest, completely sincere, hands gesturing like he’s trying to sculpt the feeling into the air, “The wind is singing to me, Reg.”
Regulus lets out a bark of laughter that turns into something nearly silent, gasping for breath. He clutches his side. “Oh my God, you’re gone,” he manages.
“I’m serious!” James insists, squinting up at the sky like it holds answers, like the stars might start harmonising at any moment. “It’s, like—emotional wind.”
Regulus wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, breath hitching from the remnants of laughter. “Or,” he says, fighting a grin, “it could just be the bloody house music blasting from Mary’s place.” He gestures lazily toward the house, where the bass still pulses faintly through the night air, thudding like a heartbeat.
James blinks, processes it—then cracks a crooked grin. “Oh. Yeah. That makes sense.” He snorts softly. Still, even as the rational explanation settles in, the melody of the wind doesn’t leave him. It clings to the edges of his awareness. Like for a moment, just a moment, the whole world had decided to hum in tune for him.
Regulus, still snickering, grabs James' arm gently. “Alright, come on,” he says, a teasing edge to his voice, “Let’s get you inside before you start thinking the bloody trees are talking to you.”
As they near the front door, James hesitates, a flicker of paranoia darting across his face. He grabs Regulus' sleeve lightly. “Wait—do my eyes look red?”
Regulus arches a brow but humors him, stepping in close. He’s a little shorter, so he rises onto his toes, one hand brushing James’ fringe back from his forehead. Under the soft porch light, his sharp features are cast in a gentler glow, shadows tucked beneath high cheekbones. His eyes narrow slightly as he inspects James with exaggerated seriousness.
“No one calls me Reg,” he murmurs, almost absently, though his mouth quirks at the corner.
James swallows. “Right—sorry.”
But Regulus just shrugs, stepping back with a half-smile that isn’t as sharp as usual. “It’s fine,” he says, quieter this time. In all the years James has known him, though they've never been particularly close, he's never seen that kind of fondness on Regulus’ face before.
"By the way," Regulus adds, his grin widening just a little, "you do l ook really stoned."
When Marlene opens the door, she jumps excitedly, "The man of the hour has arrived!" Then, she pauses, eyes widening as she takes in James' disheveled state, and then spots Regulus beside him. "With the youngest Black brother?" she says.
Peter, already having come up behind Marlene with a wicked grin, looks James up and down and smirks. "Phew, you reek."
"Are you serious?" James panics, his voice a little higher than usual.
"James, are you high?" Remus asks, raising an eyebrow.
"No," James says quickly, glancing over at Regulus for some kind of reassurance. But then he breaks out in laughter, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably.
"He's gone," he hears someone mutter, and the words make James laugh even harder, unable to stop himself now. The sound of Regulus laughing too only makes him double over in hysterics.
Marlene, standing in the doorway with a sly grin on her face, watches them both, an eyebrow cocked. "Right, I see you two successfully picked up then?" she smirks, crossing her arms. "Any to spare?"
James, still giggling, wipes his eyes. “Yes but only if you let us in.”
An hour later, James has somehow managed to take over the aux cord, playing his ‘white girl music,’ as Marlene calls it. The speakers blare out the kind of songs that make him feel like he’s in a music video every time he jumps around. His mouth feels so dry, but that doesn’t stop him from belting out the lyrics along with Peter and Sirius. The three of them are hopping around the living room like they’ve just won a gold medal in being idiots. The floor feels sticky underfoot, and the bass is vibrating through the walls, but none of that matters as they collectively lose themselves in the music.
James grins, sweat starting to bead on his forehead, but he’s too caught up in the rush of it all. Peter’s getting a little too into it, practically throwing himself at the couch every time he tries to spin around. But Sirius, as usual, is a damn natural—he's somehow cool even when he's making a fool of himself.
“Imma get water!” James yells into Peter’s ear, making Pete squirm and nearly trip over his own feet.
Peter, still bouncing to the beat, groans dramatically. " Ouch , inside voice."
James stumbles into the kitchen, his mind a bit foggy. He squints at the cupboard, trying to locate Mary’s glasses, but it’s no use. With a sigh and a slight shake of his head, he resorts to turning on the tap and starts guzzling the water straight from the sink, not bothering with a cup.
"You alright?" a voice calls out, and James jumps, nearly choking on the water.
He turns, blinking in surprise, and smiles when he spots Regulus nursing a glass of something behind him.
"It’s you again! " James exclaims, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You stayed!"
Regulus raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, I found Panda and Lott," he gestures to the two girls standing nearby, who are caught up in their own conversation, ignoring the boys entirely.
James is about to say something else when Pandora pulls at Regulus' arm, her movement swift but playful. She turns her attention to James, flashing him a smile and waving. Her long blonde hair spills down her back like moonlight, catching the glow of the blue lights as it moves. She’s adorned in silver—necklaces layered at her collarbone, rings that glint like starlight when she tucks a strand behind her ear, earrings that sway with every tilt of her head. It’s all so precise, so effortlessly stunning. James catches himself staring—not at her face, exactly, but at the way the jewelry flickers with life, like it’s part of her. Like she’s glowing from the inside out.
"Hey, James!" Pandora calls out, her voice soft, but still makes her presence instantly noticeable.
James straightens from the sink, a little flustered, wiping his mouth again. "Hey," he says, trying to shake off the momentary embarrassment. "You good?"
Pandora’s smile widens, and she absentmindedly runs her fingers over the silver chain draped around her neck. “Oh, I’m great,” she says with a playful glint in her eye. She glances at Regulus, then back at James, her expression turning teasing. “We were just talking about you.”
James raises an eyebrow, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, were you now?"
Pandora leans slightly towards him, lowering her voice just enough for the teasing to land. "Yes, Lily was wondering if you wanted to join our game of truth or dare?"
James laughs, the sound a little too loud, but he can’t help it—he’s still high and everything feels a little too funny. "Truth or dare, huh?" he says, eyes narrowing playfully. "Sounds like trouble."
Pandora raises an eyebrow, her expression turning innocent, though the gleam in her eyes says otherwise. "What you chicken or something?”
James smirks at Pandora’s challenge, a playful gleam in his eye. “Never!” he declares confidently, standing up straighter as if to prove a point.
Pandora raises an eyebrow, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Great! Fetch your friends as well,” she says before turning back to Lottie, her voice lowering to a more private, almost conspiratorial tone.
James, feeling the buzz of excitement and a little too much liquid courage, turns back to Regulus. “You're playing too, then?”
Regulus quirks an eyebrow, eyes flicking over James like he’s weighing him up. “Me? Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m just gonna try and steal a ciggie off Benji.”
James raises his eyebrows. “Wait, since when are you mates with Benji?”
Regulus shrugs. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Potter.”
James isn’t exactly sure what it is about Regulus tonight—maybe it’s the weed, maybe it’s the way the light hits his face—but he looks different. Softer. Almost… glowing. James has always thought Regulus was pretty, though he’d never say it out loud (definitely not to Sirius). It’s no secret both of the brothers were beautiful, but Regulus? There has always been something about him that made James think he just might be the most striking person he’s ever seen.
His eyes aren’t just grey; they shift and ripple like watercolour paint left to bleed on wet paper—soft, unpredictable, impossible to pin down. His hair isn’t wild like Sirius’s—it’s neat, dark curls cropped short, like each one knows exactly where it’s meant to lie, refusing to be anything but deliberate.
And his hands—long, slender and with veins James has seen that travel up his porcelain arms.
Tonight, with that small, easy smile and grey eyes softer than usual, James finds himself staring longer than he should. The way Regulus shakes his hair when he laughs, the subtle lift of his lips—it’s enough to make James’s heart stutter. He can’t help but imagine what it would feel like to run his fingers through those tight curls, to feel the warmth of Regulus’s skin under his touch, to close the small distance between them just a little…
****************
Mary’s eyes flicker anxiously as she sits on the couch, curling a strand of silky hair around her finger. Lily, watching her, knows exactly what that means—Mary’s nervous. And when Mary’s nervous, it usually has something to do with Sirius. Watching Sirius cozying up to Pandora all night was enough to make Mary want to snap. His casual laughter, his hand brushing against Pandora’s in a way that’s just a little too familiar, has made it impossible for Mary to hide her frustration. So, in true savior fashion, Lily decides it’s time to take matters into her own hands. She knows exactly what needs to happen.
It’s time for a little game of truth or dare.
Lily gathers everyone—well, the people she actually cares about—into a circle around the living room. Most of them are laughing, but Lily can’t help but glance at Mary, who’s still nervously twirling that damn strand of hair. She knows Mary’s trying not to look too interested, but Lily can see it. The tension. The frustration. Lily doesn’t understand why Mary cares so much about Sirius’s opinion. Sure, he’s good-looking and can be wildly charming when he wants to be—but still. He’s just Sirius Black—loud, dramatic, and utterly incapable of letting his guard down. That’s the thing with him, Lily thinks. He hides behind the charm, the theatrics, the relentless need to be the funniest in the room. It’s not that he won’t be serious—it’s that he can’t. Or at least, Lily’s never seen him try. Lily’s never really seen the appeal. If anything, she’s always been more drawn to Remus Lupin. He’s just as sharp-witted, but in a quieter, more deliberate way. He doesn’t have to shout to be funny—one dry remark, and he has the whole room. A man of few words, but every one of them lands. Not that she fancies him, of course. She’s fairly certain he’s gay anyway—though he’s never said as much, it’s just something she knows.
Lily’s already tried subtly getting Sirius to sit next to Mary, but with his state—half-drunk, half-high, and probably feeling like he’s on another planet—he hasn’t noticed anything. He's practically draped over Remus, who’s side-eyeing him like he’s trying to figure out whether Sirius has lost his mind for good.
Lily takes a deep breath, her eyes narrowing slightly as she sets her plan into motion. This game? It’s not just for fun. It’s a carefully calculated move. She knows exactly how to get Sirius to pay attention to the one person who actually matters in the room— Mary.
“Alright,” Lily announces, her voice loud enough to cut through the noise of the room. “Truth or dare?”
The others perk up, but it’s Sirius’s turn to respond first, his bleary eyes lighting up with that signature cocky grin. “Dare, obviously,” he says, his voice a little too loud, ew, Lily thinks, he gets so disgusting when he's drunk.
Lily exchanges a quick glance with Mary, and then, without hesitation, she lays it out.
“Alright, Sirius,” she begins, her smile a bit too sweet, “I dare you to kiss the person you’ve been avoiding all night.”
The room falls into a strange silence, broken only by the low hum of the music. But Sirius isn’t staring at Mary—not yet, anyway. Instead, his gaze flickers for just a split second to Remus, who’s sitting beside him, looking entirely unfazed by the game. Remus is busy watching the chaos unfold with his usual dry amusement, not realising the tension Sirius is carrying. But Lily notices it. She notices how Sirius’s eyes linger a little too long on Remus before he turns his attention back to the circle, adjusting the obnoxious black sunglasses perched on his nose.
His grin widens, almost as if he’s accepting the challenge. The playfulness is back, but there’s something deeper in the way his eyes glint, something she can’t quite place. But then, without warning, his focus shifts again—this time, directly to Mary.
Mary’s eyes widen, her lips pressing together in surprise. She looks at him like she’s not entirely sure whether she wants to run for the hills or kiss him back.
Sirius doesn’t wait for Mary to say anything. He stands up, crossing the circle in two strides, and before anyone can react, he’s cupping her face with both hands. Mary gasps, her breath catching in her throat, but there’s no turning back now. Sirius leans in, his lips crashing into hers with an intensity that catches them both off guard.
The kiss is messy, a little too hard. Lily makes a slight face of disgust, but to be fair, she’s never really been a fan of Sirius in a romantic sense. He’s a really good friend, sure, but when it comes to relationships? She has her doubts. Sirius is full of charm, no doubt, but when it comes to actually being a partner, he’s like a hurricane—fun to watch, but far too chaotic to last long with anyone.
She watches as Mary blinks rapidly, her lips parted, eyes wide, clearly trying to process the whirlwind that just hit her. It’s almost as if the kiss stole the breath right out of her, leaving her breathless in more ways than one.
Sirius, of course, seems completely unaffected. His usual cocky smirk is in full force, that signature grin spreading across his face like he’s just won some sort of unspoken competition, though Lily isn’t sure he even knows what the prize is.
“See?” Sirius says, his voice a little breathless but still holding that bravado, as though he’s somehow proud of himself. “I told you, I’m not afraid of a dare.”
Lily rolls her eyes, though there’s no real malice in the gesture. The show was entertaining, if nothing else. But she knows this isn’t over—not by a long shot.
“Right I suppose you’re next then.”
The game continues for a few more rounds, but Lily finds her attention wandering. Truth or dare was fun for a bit, but now it feels like an afterthought, a distraction. Her eyes find James across the circle, and she can practically feel the weight of his gaze. Those puppy-dog eyes of his are locked on her, unwavering and full of hope, like he's been waiting for her to notice him.
It’s almost endearing—how completely smitten he is with her. There’s a certain charm to the way he looks at her, like she’s the center of his universe, like everything she does is somehow magic.
But honestly, Lily doesn’t get it. She doesn’t see what the fuss is about. Sure, James is nice enough, funny even, but the idea of him being head over heels for her? It doesn’t really register. If she’s being honest, she’s never fully given him the chance. Part of her just enjoys the subtle thrill of rejecting him, knowing that he’ll always come back, like an inevitable tide.
Though if Lily is being completely honest with herself, her attention isn’t solely on James and his endless puppy-dog eyes anymore. No, it’s Marlene McKinnon who’s suddenly caught her eye.
Marlene, as always, is slinking her way into the circle with that confident swagger that always seems to rub Lily the wrong way. She’s the kind of girl who dresses like a grub, probably doesn’t shower, and has sex with anything that walks. She’ll walk into a room like she owns it, despite looking like she just rolled out of bed after a week of sleeping in her clothes. And yeah, Lily has to admit—grudgingly—that Marlene is a good striker. One of the best on the team. But anything outside of soccer? Just thinking about having an actual conversation with her makes Lily want to gag.
As if on cue, Mary slightly bumps her arm, a silent nudge that says, look who just sat down. Lily glances over at her, then back to Marlene, who’s now perched next to James, casually joining the game with a smirk plastered on her face. Lily’s a little ashamed to admit she was surprised at first—when Marlene started orbiting Sirius’ group, laughing too loud at lunch with them, lingering in doorways between classes, posting blurry Myspace photos like they were lifelong friends. But in hindsight, it was completely on brand.
Of course Marlene went for them.
Marlene knows exactly what she’s doing. Lily wouldn’t call her a slut, exactly. That’d be too easy. Marlene’s something else entirely—calculated, magnetic, the kind of girl who sleeps around and worries about consequences later.
“Right! My turn finally!” Mary giggles, eyes glinting with mischief as she shoots a knowing look toward Dorcas and Lily, one eyebrow raised like she’s already planning trouble. Oh, this will be fun.
“Hmmmm,” she drags out, scanning the circle for dramatic effect, “who shall I choose?”
“Ahh, Mary, always with the theatrics,” Peter wiggles his eyebrows, cheeky grin plastered across his round face.
Mary ignores him, her gaze landing on Marlene with a devilish smile. “Marlene.”
“I’m getting drinks, anyone want anything?” Remus asks, standing up alongside Sirius, who’s already making his way to the kitchen. A few people shout out their orders, but Lily’s gaze never leaves Marlene.
Marlene looks up, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, as she meets Mary’s eyes. “I guess… Truth?” she asks, her tone casual but with a trace of uncertainty, scanning the circle for any signs of hesitation. She catches James’s grin, that same half-amused, half-predatory smile he always wears when he's waiting for something juicy to unfold.
Mary leans in, her voice velvet-smooth but unmistakably sharp. “Perfect. So, is it true you shagged that freak, Edgar Bones, last night?” The question cuts through the noise, and the room stills, a few half-laughed breaths hanging in the air.
Marlene blinks, brows raising as if amused. “What? No way.”
“But you’re friends, aren’t you?” Mary presses, her tone feigning curiosity.
“I mean, last year you were practically glued to his side,” Dorcas adds with a tilt of her head, her voice light but calculated.
“Barely,” Marlene scoffs with a laugh, shaking her head a little too quickly. She’s nervous—Lily can practically smell it. “We hang out. Doesn’t mean I’m bending over for him.”
“So you weren’t having a three-way with him and Benjy last night?” Mary asks, her tone breezy, too casual to be anything but cruel. Dorcas snorts like it’s a joke, but there’s a tightness in her jaw. Mary just shrugs, all innocence, like she’s asked Marlene her favourite ice cream flavour. Lily doesn’t flinch. She watches it unfold without guilt, arms crossed, heart steady. She knows how this might look from the outside. But they’re not bullies. Not really.
Sure, Lily isn’t perfect—she can admit that. But she’s not some malicious, small-hearted girl who goes around tearing people down for sport. She volunteers at the bloody nursing home every Sunday. She helps her neighbour take their bins out. She coaches the grade seven soccer team. She is kind, when people deserve kindness.
And Mary and Dorcas? They’re the best people she knows. Fiercely loyal. Brilliant. Gorgeous. Maybe a little harsh sometimes, but only when someone’s crossed a line. And Marlene—well, Marlene crossed it the moment she started fucking peoples boyfriends. Orbiting around Sirius' group as some sort of sign to get under Lily's skin. Marlene knew what she was doing.
This isn’t cruelty. It’s course correction.
Marlene tilts her head, letting the silence stretch before locking eyes with Lily. Her voice is calm, almost amused. “You wanna know who I sleep with so badly? Try asking me yourself—when you’ve got the guts to do it without your little cheerleaders.”
She stands, slow and deliberate, brushing invisible dust from her jeans. “Fuck this. I’m out.”
James follows. Of course he does. Jaw clenched, eyes hard, throwing the girls a look that’s supposed to mean something—some vague, impotent warning. It doesn’t stick, but the tension pulses in the space he leaves behind. Lily doesn’t blink. Just leans back into the couch with practiced ease, mouth curling into a slow, lazy smirk. If James wants to play hero, he can all he wants, Marlenes true colours will come out soon enough.
“So dramatic,” Lily says, loud enough to make sure Marlene hears every syllable on her way out.
************
Remus slips out of the living room with Sirius, the buzz of the game fading behind them. It’s times like this—moments stolen just out of sight—that he loves whatever this is between them. He can still feel a tingle in his hand where Sirius brushed against him when they stood up. That casual touch, held just a second too long. The way Sirius looked at him earlier— before Mary . That fleeting glance, like a spark passed silently between them in a room full of noise.
That’s what Remus lives for.
Not the game.
Not the party.
Just this—the way Sirius leans in too close when they talk, like the rest of the world is irrelevant. The conspiratorial smiles. The quiet hallways. The moments that belong only to them.
He likes it when Sirius drinks, sometimes. Not the messy, slurred version, but the one where he loosens his shoulders and forgets to hide. When the tension eases just enough for Sirius to brush Remus’s hair back with a tenderness so startling, so deliberate, that Remus lets himself believe it—just for a second. That this is something. That this means something.
Sometimes, Sirius will sit on his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world, draping himself over Remus with lazy, practiced ease—like he knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly how it makes Remus feel. Like he wants him to feel it. And Remus does. God, he does.
Because for all the noise, all the flirtations and games, there are these little cracks—tiny windows where Sirius lets him see it.
The real thing.
The thing they don’t talk about.
The thing neither of them is brave enough to name.
After all the teasing, the barely-there touches, the sideways glances that linger too long, it always tips over. It always ends with Sirius grabbing him by the collar and kissing him like it’s the only language they both understand. Heated, breathless, sometimes messy. Sometimes more. And that’s where Remus feels it most—alive. He used to hate it. The unpredictability. The way there was no plan, no script, no certainty. No promise of what would happen next. For someone who builds his life around routines and carefully laid intentions, it was terrifying—like freefall.
But now? Now he lives for it.
Because this is the one thing in his life that doesn’t have to be controlled. It doesn’t have to be neat or tidy or explained. It just is. Sirius, always arriving like a storm Remus didn’t ask for but can’t help chasing anyway.
And sure—of course he wants more. Of course he dreams, late at night with his face buried in Sirius’s pillow, of what it might be like to have him. To call him his. To strip all the secrecy away and build something solid from the mess they keep sweeping under the rug. Something real. Something constant.
But that’s not what this is.
This is what happens when two friends come out as queer to each other and, in the awkward wake of relief and curiosity, decide to “explore.”
So he lets it be his outlet.
The chaos. The surprise. The ache and the spark and the not-knowing. It keeps him on his toes. Keeps his heart beating faster. In a life ruled by order, Sirius is the one beautiful, maddening thing he doesn’t have to file away. And that makes it feel a little like freedom.
With Sirius’ hand wrapped tightly in his, Remus follows him down the narrow staircase to the basement, pulse quickening with every step. They’ve done this before—snuck away like kids with a secret, tipsy and breathless, muffling laughter against each other's shoulders as music thumped through the floorboards above. And somehow, somehow, no one ever seems to notice.
Still, tonight is different. There's a clock ticking in Remus’s head. He can’t afford to lose sight of Lottie for long. He stills needs to follow the plan, it will just stay on hold, only for a moment though.
Sirius tugs him into the basement bathroom, the door closing with a soft thud and the quiet, intimate click of the lock. They’re sealed off from the world again. It’s dim in here, barely lit by the flickering hallway light that seeps in under the door, but the dark only adds to the feeling that this moment belongs to them. Remus’s hands are under Sirius’ shirt before he even thinks about it—fingers tracing familiar ribs, the smooth, skin of his chest like porcelain under his palms. He swallows hard.
Sirius steps closer, their bodies almost touching now, and lowers his voice to a murmur. “You know,” he says, eyes locked on Remus’s mouth, “I would’ve kissed you.” Remus raises an eyebrow, not trusting himself to speak. Sirius always does this—drops lines like bombs, like they don’t matter. But they always land. Remus would be lying if he said they didn't replay over and over in his head late at night.
Sirius grins, lazy and slow. “Upstairs. Earlier. In truth or dare when Lily asked me that question I was going to kiss you, had been thinking about you all night,"
Something tightens in Remus’s chest. “You think about me?” he asks, because he’s weak and stupid and can’t help it.
Sirius shrugs, too casual. God, the things Remus wants to do to that boy! “Only when I’m awake.”
And then he closes the distance, pressing Remus against the sink, fingers curling in the fabric at his waist like he’s anchoring them both there—like maybe he needs this, too. Remus smiles, his heart skipping a beat. He knows it’s just playful banter, the kind that’s half-flirtation, half-lust, but it still lingers in his chest like something more. For a moment, he allows himself to believe it, to feel like he's the centre of Sirius’ world. Just for a breath, it's enough.
**************
“What the hell was that about?” James asks Marlene following her outside.
“They’re such wankers, I was waiting to see how long it would take before they turned it on me,” Marlene mutters, lighting a cigarette with a practiced flick of her lighter. She exhales sharply, the smoke curling around her head like a halo made of spite.
James kicks at a loose stone on the path, frowning. “That’s not like Lily though,”
Marlene snorts. “You don’t know the first thing about her if you think that’s not like her.”
James pauses at that, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes fixed somewhere out in the dark. “Maybe I should talk to her, I've never seen the girls like that before,”
Marlene casts him a sideways look, a bitter smile curling at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah… I think that’s a terrible idea. And anyway, you’re only just coming down. You need sleep. Or hydration. Or something.”
James huffs a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe. I can feel my brain melting back into place.”
Her smile softens, but there’s still an edge to it. “Don’t get me wrong, James. Lily’s not cruel, per say. She’s calculated. She knows how to read a room, how to play her cards when it counts. And when she tells a story—trust me—it’ll be the one that benefits her. She's extremely good at making you feel like a piece of shit when she wants too.”
James shifts his weight, jaw tightening. “She’s not like that with me.” It comes out too quickly—reflexive. He hears it as he says it, the way it lands a little hollow in the space between them. Marlene doesn’t respond. She just lifts an eyebrow, slow and knowing, like she’s seen this play out more times than she can count. James exhales hard, dragging a thumb along the seam of his jeans, like he can smooth the words away.
“I didn’t mean—” He cuts himself off, starting again. “I mean… maybe she is. Sometimes. I don’t know. I don’t think she means to be. I’m sorry—I had no idea any of this was going on.”
Marlene lets out a soft scoff, lips curling into a smirk. “Yeah, well. You wouldn’t. We only started hanging out this year, remember? Before that, I didn’t exactly exist to you.”
James grins, playing it light even though he can hear the edge beneath her words. “And yet, I am eternally grateful for your sparkling presence in Year 11 English. A true gift.”
Marlene rolls her eyes, but there’s a flicker of something warm behind it. The beginnings of a smile tug at her lips despite herself. “Shut up. You’re such an idiot.”
Peter steps outside, his brows furrowed as he looks around. “Do you know where Remus and Sirius went?”
“No idea. But I’ve gotta bounce before my stepdad has a meltdown. I’ll catch you lot tomorrow, yeah?” Marlene shrugs.
“Alright!” Peter says, dapping her up with a grin.
Marlene gives a lazy wave before turning to head out, her boots clicking against the pavement.
“Should we go looking for Remus and Sirius?” Peter asks, glancing over at James.
James shrugs, his eyes flicking down to his phone. “You can, but I might need to head off myself. It’s almost 1, and I was meant to be back an hour ago.”
Peter gives a casual nod, though he raises an eyebrow. “All good, get home safe, mate. I’m going to find Emmaline and Frank.”
James watches as Peter turns and heads back inside, blending into the crowd. The knot in his stomach tightens. He’s not in a rush to go home, not really. His gaze drifts, and for a moment, he just stands there, staring at the door. He feels bad for lying. It’s not like he actually has a curfew. Hell, he could stay out as late as he wanted. But what he really wants is to find Regulus. With a sigh, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts moving toward the back door, the crowd inside still buzzing with energy. Maybe he still had Regulus’ number from ages ago. James scrolls through his contacts, fingers idly swiping across the screen. To his surprise, he still does. The last message was sent back in 2002. Sheesh.
He pauses, staring at the screen. The last message simply read, “Sirius isn’t home.” That was it. James had thumbs-upped it at the time. Not much else to say.
He'd never really been close with Regulus. When Sirius started high school, Regulus would sometimes tag along on their hangouts, trailing a few steps behind with that unreadable expression he always wore. And when James went over to Sirius’ house, Regulus was just... there. Present in the way furniture was present. Silent, sharp-eyed, and always listening. Most of their conversations had happened with Sirius in the room, acting as a buffer. Except for the odd moments—when Sirius had ducked off to the bathroom or been summoned by his parents. That’s when James and Regulus were left alone, the silence stretching too long, too tight.
He tries to recall what they even talked about in those gaps. Maybe music? School? The weather? Nothing sticks. Nothing real.
But he remembers the first time he realised Regulus was beautiful. It was start of Year Nine. They hadn’t seen each other all summer—not that it mattered. They weren’t close. Barely spoke, really. But one night before the new school year had started, James had climbed through Sirius’ window, whisper-laughing plans for a midnight skinny dip at the lake out of town with the others. The house was asleep. Or so he thought.
Regulus had burst into the room at the first creak of the floorboards—wide awake, sharp-eyed. He’d always been a light sleeper. James had braced himself, heart hammering, fully expecting Regulus to yell for his mother, to blow the whole plan.
But instead, Regulus just stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowing with a mischievous glint. Then he said, deadpan:
"I'm coming with you. Or I'm calling Maman."
Maybe it was the way he barely even looked at James—just stared right through him, like he didn’t exist. There was something almost endearing in that distant, unreadable gaze, but also a little intimidating. Or maybe it was the fact it was nearly midnight, and Regulus looked like he’d stepped straight out of a magazine—his hair perfectly curled, skin so clean and even it almost glowed in the moonlight spilling through the window.Or maybe it was just the surprise of seeing this mischievous, daring side of Regulus—the side so different from the goody-two-shoes, ma ma's boy James thought he knew.
But whatever it was, in that moment, James felt his breath catch.
He decided right then and there: this boy was the most attractive male on the planet.
James stares at his screen as if it might burn him the moment he hits send. The message feels unnervingly vulnerable, even though it’s just the simplest text in the world.
"Do u want a lift home? (This is James btw :D)"
The reply comes almost instantly. First, a 👍. Then:
“Out front.”
James exhales, pocketing his phone and heading for the door, heart thudding a little louder than he’d like to admit. He'd be driving Regulus home tonight.