Work Text:
The first time Regulus Black saw Harry Potter was in his second year, when the Sorting Hat called “Potter, Harry” very loudly across the Great Hall. He saw the back of a small boy emerge from the thinning mass of first-years waiting to be sorted, going up the stairs and sitting on the three-legged stool, and caught a glimpse of his hauntingly green eyes before it was covered by the Hat that seemingly enveloped his entire head. Not long after, the Hat declared him a Gryffindor, a decision which was met with thunderous claps and hollered cheers from James Potter himself, much to Harry’s embarrassment. Regulus observed how the boy went to the Gryffindor table with bowed head and flushed cheeks, and once he arrived at the table, James Potter led Harry to sit next to him among his group of friends: his brother, the half-blood Lupin, and Pettigrew.
From what Potter — his brother’s best friend — was saying to his little group of friends at the top of his voice, he might as well be saying it to the entire Great Hall, Harry Potter was apparently a miracle child of their parents. Euphemia Potter had so much difficulty and health complications when conceiving James that Fleamont and she agreed not to try for more children for the sake of Euphemia’s health. However, Fate had a different plan as a year and a half later, Euphemia fell pregnant, and Harry Ignotus Potter was born just short of the nine-month period. He was born prematurely and, as such, was a weak child prone to diseases: Muggles’ and magical alike.
Even at eleven years old, Fleamont — including the thirteen-year-old James who had declared himself his ‘Hazza’s personal protector’ — was very much reluctant to let Harry enrol in Hogwarts, worried that anything might happen to him. However, as Potter had eloquently described it: “and he shot us his little puppy eyes, and he started to tear up as well with his lips pouting, and we just couldn’t say no, you know?” His friends just looked at him weirdly while shaking their heads, and even though those Gryffindors didn’t know, Regulus also did the same, albeit inwardly.
And oh boy, was Regulus so wrong.
It’s been three years since he met and got to know Harry Potter, and the younger wizard was such a fresh breath of air compared to his brother. Where James Potter was loud and boisterous, always announcing his presence boldly as if the very room itself was supposed to be grateful to have him there, Harry Potter was more composed, elegant, and refined. Where James Potter loved theatrics and bothering people with his pranks, Harry Potter went out of his way to personally apologise to students and teachers who were the victims of the older Potter’s prank. The expression on Severus’s face when Harry apologised to him was positively comical, and Regulus never failed to laugh when that specific memory resurfaced in his mind.
In his fourth year, Regulus began to develop feelings for the younger wizard. He and Harry were good friends; they hung out often, both were Seekers, and so sometimes they’d hold a Seeker’s Showdown, which 90% of the time ended with Harry’s win — Regulus swore to Merlin that he didn’t lose on purpose; Harry was just that good — and they both loved bitching about their older brothers. It didn’t matter that James disapproved of their friendship, stating that Regulus would rob Harry of his ‘innocence’. Harry didn’t care, though, as he merely rolled his eyes whenever his brother went on a tirade about their friendship.
“Oh, Regulus,” Harry had said when Regulus questioned him regarding his blasé attitude. “I can just give him and my father puppy eyes and they'll bend to my wishes.” Harry then gave him a wink and went back to his Transfiguration assignment, oblivious to Regulus’s shivers and the red flooding his cheeks.
Now, he’s in his fifth year, and he admittedly had more pressing matters to think about, like his O.W.L.s, but Regulus had decided since the summer that he would actively pursue Harry this year. The would-be fourth-year boy was everything he ever wanted in a partner: he’s smart, powerful, witty, and matches Regulus’s humour very well. He’s willing to oppose Regulus if he ever thought the latter was wrong, which happened more often than not. If anyone ever said that Regulus did it intentionally just to see Harry’s enchanting green eyes glow as he slowly picked Regulus’s arguments apart, Regulus would vehemently deny that. And probably hex that person into oblivion.
Harry’s also a pureblood, coming from the wealthy Potter family, so surely his parents wouldn’t have any objection; his mother might throw a fit that he wanted someone from such a Light family, but he would be able to convince his father, who in turn could persuade his mother. In conclusion, Harry was a perfect partner for Regulus, and to woo him, Regulus just needed to show Harry that he was the perfect one for him.
The first Quidditch match of the year was between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, much to Regulus’s disappointment. He had been looking forward to playing against Harry — he’s always looking forward to playing against the younger wizard. But as he entered the field with his broomstick in hand and shook the hand of the Ravenclaw team’s captain, his eyes caught sight of his Harry in the Gryffindor side of the bleachers, surrounded by his brother and friends. His eyes almost popped out of his skull in shock when he saw Harry was wearing a green and silver sweater along with a matching scarf, looking very out of place within the red and gold lions. When Harry made eye contact with him, he sent a wide beam and waved at him, mouthing ‘good luck!’ with both his hands at each side of his mouth. Regulus, even though he was smiling slightly at Harry and nodding in thanks for his well wishes, had his mind running awry at the sight of Harry in his House’s colours.
Merlin, he looks good in green and silver. My colour.
He’s not sure whose sweater and scarf he took, and frankly, he didn’t want to know; he’d just settle by thinking that Harry transfigured them himself. Yes, that’s a plausible explanation; Harry’s, after all, a powerful and talented wizard, so that’s definitely within his capabilities.
Regulus made a mental note to give Harry his personal Slytherin Quidditch jersey and scarf. So that next time, Harry wouldn’t need to go through the hassle of transfiguring them anymore, he told himself. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with the jealousy that surged through his veins at the thought of his Harry (not that the younger wizard knew it yet) wearing someone else’s Quidditch jersey and scarf.
Regulus soon shook off any thoughts irrelevant to Quidditch and focused on the game as Madam Hooch released all the balls: the Golden Snitch, Bludgers, then Quaffle in an order. As one of his Chasers took the Quaffle, Regulus circled the pitch from high above to look for the Golden Snitch, tuning out the rest of the match. He swerved around and did tricks with his broomstick, partly to confuse the Ravenclaw Seeker and partly to show off to a certain someone. Although that certain someone was infinitely more of an adrenaline junkie than him; Regulus couldn’t count how many times he’d almost had a cardiac arrest from the sheer danger of the plays Harry had pulled during both their friendly and official matches.
A glint of gold near the bleachers, reflected by the sun, caught his eye and distracted him from his musing. Regulus angled his broomstick in that direction and immediately zoomed off, leaving the Ravenclaw Seeker to catch up to him futilely. In a matter of seconds, Regulus was already lying flat on his broomstick and stretching his hand forward, getting closer and closer and…
“REGULUS BLACK HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS 210 TO 30!”
Cheers and boos were heard as Regulus slowed down and halted in the sky, looking down at the Golden Snitch in his hands, its frail wings still fluttering in his grip. Having a goal in mind, he bolted to the Gryffindor side of the bleachers, ignoring the hundreds of pairs of eyes fixed on every one of his movements. He stopped in front of a widely beaming Harry, his expression one of pride, which melted Regulus’s heart wholly. He’d do anything to see that expression on Harry’s face directed at him.
“Regulus! That was an amazing play! One second you were there, and the next you’ve caught the Snitch!”
Smiling, Regulus descended to be level with Harry, drifting closer to him while ignoring the burning glare he was sure James Potter was sending him.
“Reggie?” Harry tilted his head adorably, brows furrowed. His wide green eyes blinked slowly, staring up at Regulus with questions behind them.
Regulus took Harry’s right palm and opened it, laying it flat on his own palm. Giving a small kiss on the Golden Snitch he caught, he then placed the golden ball on Harry’s open palm, before folding his fingers to close it, keeping it within Harry’s clutch. Looking at Harry’s gobsmacked expression, Regulus leaned in to whisper in his ear.
“For you.”
Pleased and emboldened by the way Harry’s cheeks reddened, Regulus decided to make a rather bold move by pressing a soft yet firm kiss on Harry’s forehead. He pulled back, delighted in the shivers that ran down Harry’s spine, meeting Harry’s wide, dazed eyes. Deciding that was enough of a first move, Regulus merely smiled at Harry before flying back down to the pitch where the rest of his teammates were congregating.
As his teammates surrounded him, Regulus sneaked a look at Harry, finding him blushing and staring at the Golden Snitch that Regulus had caught and given him. Next to him, James Potter’s mouth was working overtime, spit flying everywhere as his hands gestured furiously. His brother, Sirius, merely looked at him in a weird combination of disbelief and pride, sending him a thumbs-up although he looked absolutely confused.
Uncaring that he might get hexed by the self-proclaimed protector of the object of his affections, Regulus went back to celebrating the win with his team- and Housemates, smirking inwardly.
Step one: done.
Regulus, in fact, did not receive any hexes or become the victim of James Potter’s pranks. He didn’t know what was stopping the older Potter from doing it, but oh well, it’s his win.
After that stunt he pulled, he noticed Harry now often blushed whenever they hung out together just from small actions Regulus did; when Regulus smiled at him, or teased him — which something he recently did often, just small quips such as “you’re cute” or “you smell nice” (which wasn’t wrong, Harry’s scent was a soft sigh of jasmine and lavender with a subtle hint of the rain-soaked grass of the Quidditch pitch—Regulus couldn’t count how many times he had purposely discreetly leaned in closer just to get a whiff of that heady mixture). Regulus had never seen red splotches filling Harry’s cheeks, and he never realised that it was a sight he’d enjoy, but he would do everything in his might to get Harry all blushing.
They were hanging out in the library during one of their study sessions in their corner, where no one else usually went, bar a few lost first-years. The space was near a high-arched window providing a nice view of the courtyard outside, showing the grey sky typical of the Scottish weather. It was November, the days had grown colder, and the chill even seeped through the castle’s walls, evident by the way Harry was shivering in his seat as he was trying to work on his Ancient Runes homework. Regulus, who has been waiting for this moment ever since that Quidditch match, promptly took out one of Quidditch jerseys, as well as his green and silver scarf, out of his bag.
“Harry,” he said to the younger wizard, who, at the call, looked up at Regulus with a slightly red nose. Regulus had to hold himself from cooing at him and hugging him right then and there. How can someone be this endearing?
“Here, wear my jersey and scarf. You’ve been shivering the whole time we’ve been here.”
Harry stared at the pieces of clothing with wide eyes, shaking his head.
“Did you really just carry those everywhere in your bag?”
Damn. Why did he have to see that?
“Uh… not really. I just happened to bring them with me today. Just in case, you know.”
Why did I have to stutter? Father will lose his mind when he hears this. Heir Black, stuttering in front of a boy. Merlin.
Harry looked at him dubiously, although he took the jersey and scarf with a faint blush dusting his cheeks. He immediately put on the jersey and wore the scarf around his neck, and pride swelled within Regulus at the sight of Harry in his jersey, with the letters ‘BLACK’ emblazoned on the back, revealing to everyone that Harry was taken, even if he didn’t realise it yet.
Harry muttered something under his breath that Regulus didn’t quite catch. He tilted his head forward, asking Harry if he could repeat what he just said.
“You smell lovely.”
Regulus’s eyebrows shot upwards at Harry’s shy admission, and he could feel redness flooding his cheeks at Harry’s words. Clearing his throat, he tried to regain his bearings.
“Thank you,” he said, slightly stuttering. “They suit you— Slytherin colours, I mean.”
“Really?” Harry asked, eyes widening in curiosity. “I’ve never thought of myself wearing green and silver.”
“Of course,” Regulus nodded rapidly. “You look good in anything, of course. But the green complements your beautiful green eyes rather brilliantly.”
At his words, Harry ducked his head, although Regulus could see the persistent blush on his cheeks. Harry looked up at him through his eyelashes and sent him a soft smile that never failed to send butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
The next day, Regulus slithered into his usual spot at the Slytherin table, already resigned to another day of O.W.L. preparations and Quidditch training. He made a mental note to make sure Harry was well-equipped for his O.W.L.s next year as he poured some tea. He was just lifting his teacup when a ripple of noise swept through the Great Hall, rising from the Gryffindor table.
Regulus glanced over, and he promptly choked on his tea.
Harry Potter had just strolled in, hair as untidy as always — one that made him look like he’d just got shagged — eyes still soft with sleep— and wearing his jersey. The same one he gave him yesterday. The green fabric hung slightly loose on his frame, the silver embroidery gleaming in the morning light. The bold letters forming the word ‘BLACK' on the back were as clear as day for all to see. Regulus felt rather than saw the pairs of judging eyes of the student body on him, although his sight was firmly transfixed on the object of his affections, wearing his sweater for the entire student body to see.
The effect on Regulus was instantaneous and devastating.
The effect on James Potter, though…
“HARRY?!” James’s voice boomed throughout the hall, practically rattling the crockery on the tables, even surprising some of the students into knocking over their cups of pumpkin juice. He shot to his feet at a speed of Dementors to every piece of bad memories, scraping the bench and spilling some of Sirius’s porridge onto the table. “ARE YOU INSANE?!”
Harry blinked at him mildly, as if James were just discussing the weather. He slid into the seat between Sirius and Remus, and calmly reached for toast, totally unfazed by the way his brother was red with anger, metaphorical fumes coming out of his ears.
“It’s a jersey, James,” Harry said, buttering his bread with deliberate calm. “People wear them.”
“Not ones that aren’t yours!" James’s shrilly voice earned him annoyed hushes from nearby tables. He pointed an accusatory finger at the lettering on Harry’s back. “That says BLACK! Do you understand what this means? You’re advertising yourself as— as—”
“Stylish?” Harry suggested, deadpan, before taking a bite of his toast with an air of ease around him.
Next to him, Sirius choked on his porridge, wheezing with laughter. “Merlin’s beard, Prongs, calm down. It’s just a jersey. Let Haz live a little.”
“Just a jersey?! Are you even hearing yourself, Pads?!” James spluttered, his hands gesturing wildly, his glasses becoming askew. “First, it’s the jersey, next it’s a snake-themed accessory, and then— he’ll be drinking tea at the Slytherin table like some— some traitor to Gryffindor!”
Regulus would have to thank James Potter for giving him an idea of what his next gift to Harry could be.
At that very moment, with unbothered grace, Harry lifted the teacup Sirius had poured for him and sipped, eyes flicking across the hall to meet Regulus’s.
Regulus’s lips curled into a slow, satisfied smirk, giving Harry a discreet salute.
Harry’s cheeks pinked, but he didn’t look away.
“HAZZA!” James all but howled, throwing his arms skyward. “I WILL WRITE TO MUM ABOUT THIS!”
The entire Gryffindor table was howling with laughter now, with Sirius pounding the table and Remus muttering something about James “digging his own grave”.
Harry simply took another bite of his toast, serene as ever, without even sparing a glance at his brother. “You’re very dramatic in the morning, James. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”
Regulus had to hide his face behind his teacup, but nothing could disguise the way his shoulders shook with silent laughter. Or the way warmth spread through his chest at the sight of Harry proudly wearing his name for the whole school to see.
Thanks to James’s idea, albeit unintentional, Regulus now knew what to give Harry for Christmas. The Potters had invited James’s friends to celebrate Yule with them at Potter Manor, and Sirius, in turn, had dragged Regulus along with him instead of “torturing yourself by spending it with mother and father,” Sirius had said, shivering at the mere thought. Regulus, although frowning, agreed inwardly and thanked Sirius mentally for having invited him to the Potters.
When they both arrived at the manor through the Floo network, the Potter brothers had varying reactions to their appearance. While James looked grumpy that Regulus was there, Harry, on the other hand, had no qualms about his presence, immediately jumping to give him a bone-crushing hug instead, with a huge grin on his face. Mr and Mrs Potter — who insisted that he called them Monty and Mia — gave him a warm welcome, although Monty had this suspicious look on his face, as if he wasn’t sure that he was entirely pleased to see Regulus there, while Mia had an all too knowing smirk on hers, as if she knew something he didn’t.
James insisted that Regulus be placed in a room farthest from Harry’s, but Harry rolled his eyes at his brother, taking Regulus’s hand and pulling him into the room right next to his. James nearly had a seizure from the indignation, and Regulus noticed Monty looked slightly green. But did he care? Not really.
The dinner on Christmas Eve was festive, and that’s saying it lightly. The spread Mia had cooked, along with the help of Harry and the house-elves, was mouthwatering, and everyone dove in once they were permitted to. Afterwards, they all hung out in the drawing room by the fireplace, with Regulus and Harry sharing a couch. The couch was a tad small for two people, but Regulus wasn’t going to start complaining about that. If anything, he relished the warm press of Harry’s side against him.
James, who was playing Gobstones with Sirius, all but abandoned his game once he saw the two of them snuggled together, standing up and ignoring the “Hey!” coming from Sirius, who barely managed to evade the putrid-smelling liquid sprayed at his face. James stared at both of them, a stern scowl firm on his face, before nodding to himself as if he’d just made a great decision. He stormed over and squeezed himself into the nonexistent space between Regulus and Harry.
“James!” Harry yelled, having to move slightly to what space the small couch had in order to accommodate James’s lean build lest he get squished. “What are you doing?!”
“Preserving your dignity and honour,” James huffed, now squashed in between Harry and Regulus. Because of the cramped space, he was technically half-perched on Regulus’s lap and Harry’s lap.
“Honestly, James,” Harry stood up, puffing. “You’re ridiculously incorrigible.”
Harry then moved around James to where Regulus was sitting, staring at Harry with confusion painted all across his face. The younger boy had a mischievous expression on his face, sending Regulus a wink before plopping down on his lap.
Oh.
Regulus suddenly had a lap full of his crush, and his arms instinctively wrapped around Harry’s lithe waist — that information did something to Regulus’s stomach. Just in case Harry fell, that’s all. That’s what he’s going to tell anyone who asks—no other ulterior motives.
Ignoring James’s splutters and Sirius’s roaring laughter, Regulus slowly shook his head at Harry’s playful expression.
This is already the best Christmas of my life.
The next morning, Harry woke Regulus up in the most Potter-like way imaginable; by leaping onto his bed and bouncing on the mattress until Regulus bolted upright, wand in hand and murder in his eyes.
“Merry Christmas!” Harry chirped, flopping down beside him with a grin that was far too bright for the hour, looking as if he had not just scared Regulus to near death.
Regulus let out a long-suffering sigh, putting his wand back on his bedside table. “You’re lucky you’re adorable.”
Harry’s response to that was an endearing laughter, which sent jolts of warmth through his body, and tugged him out of bed.
Later, after breakfast, the entire family, plus Remus, who came that morning, had gathered in the drawing room, the fire blazing merrily and the scent of pine thick in the air. The floor was already buried under piles of hastily torn wrapping paper, courtesy of James and Sirius. Harry sat cross-legged on the rug, grinning like it was the best day of his life, while James loomed over him like a self-declared guardian of dignity.
“Alright, Haz, mine next!” Sirius said, tossing a lumpy parcel at Harry. “Careful, it bites.”
Harry tore into the paper and held up a pair of garishly enchanted socks. Tiny dogs in sunglasses pranced around the wool, wagging their tails in time to a tinny bark tune.
Harry laughed so hard he nearly toppled backwards. “These are brilliant!”
“Brilliantly awful,” James muttered, looking at the socks with a mix of amusement and disapproval. “Don’t you dare wear those in public, Haz.”
“Why not?” Harry wiggled the socks at him. “They’re fashion.”
“Fashionably tragic,” James corrected, although Sirius was howling with laughter now. “Anything that comes from Padfoot can hardly be considered fashion.”
“Try not to be jealous, Prongs,” Sirius said. “Some of us have taste.”
“You don’t have taste, you have fleas,” James shot back.
“Boys,” Mia chided smoothly, sipping her tea from her armchair while watching her children fondly.
Harry, still chuckling, reached for a neatly-packed book-shaped gift. “This one’s from Moony?”
Remus nodded. “Just something I thought you’d like.”
The wrappings unravelled to reveal a rare Defence text he’d been eyeing since he saw it at Flourish & Blotts. His eyes lit up, smiling widely at Remus. “This is amazing! Thank you, Moony!”
James huffed. “Can’t be better than mine.”
“I haven’t even opened yours!” Harry protested.
James promptly thrust a haphazardly wrapped package into his hands. “Here. Open it. Prove I’m the best brother.”
Inside was a set of broomstick care tools, each charm-shined and engraved with Harry’s initials: H.I.P.
Harry’s grin widened. “This is— this is brilliant, James!”
“Told you, best brother,” James declared smugly, a smirk on his face.
Sirius leaned back, smirking. “Until he opens mine, obviously.”
“You gave him bloody socks!” James snapped.
“Fashionable socks.”
Harry giggled, clutching the pile of gifts to his chest. The warmth in the room swelled, firelight flickering across flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Monty and Mia were cradled in their armchairs, each with a cup of warm chocolate in hand, content to see their children and friends celebrating Christmas together with large smiles and boisterous laughter.
Then James spotted the last unopened box, swaddled with velvet. His laughter abruptly died down, his eyes immediately narrowing.
“Absolutely not,” he snatched it up and held it aloft like a cursed artefact to be investigated and perused. “We’re skipping this one.”
Harry frowned. “James—”
“It’s from him,” James jabbed an accusatory finger at Regulus, who was lounging stiffly on the end of the couch, pretending to be entirely unbothered.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “What do you think it is, poison? A tiara that makes the user go mad upon use? Grandfather Arcturus told me one of our ancestors had something like that.”
“Wouldn’t put it past him,” James murmured darkly, squinting at the velvet-wrapped box.
“James,” Remus sighed, as if he was tired of James’s antics. He probably was; the full moon was two days ago, after all. “It’s rude not to open every gift.”
“Not if it’s booby-trapped!”
“James,” Mia said, her voice carrying a gentleness to it, one that came with experience of handling misbehaving kids. “Hand it over. If Harry wants to open it, he opens it.”
Harry marched over, snatching the box back. “You’re bloody ridiculous.” He ignored the chiding “Harry!” from Mia.
Regulus’s lips twitched at the corner, although that was gone the next second as he schooled his expression when James sent a pointy glare at him, one that seemed to speak You better not give him anything absurd. Regulus’s innocent expression screamed Who? Me?
Harry sat back down at his original position on the floor, running his fingers over the velvet ribbon.
“Thank you, Reggie,” he said softly, before pulling it loose. The room hushed, the only sound now coming from the blazing fire lending them its warmth. Even Sirius canted his body forward a little.
Harry opened the lid of the box slowly, as if the box were a fragile thing that would collapse at the mere breath of a wind. Inside, nestled against black silk, lay a silver crescent moon pendant with a serpent curling delicately along its curve. Runes shimmered faintly around the edges, glowing when the light from the fire caught them, making the pendant look more elegant, more ethereal.
“Oh,” Harry breathed, almost reverently, as if he were looking at an ancient relic long lost. “Regulus— this is— it’s… beautiful.”
“Don’t touch it,” James immediately lurched forward. “It’s obviously cursed.”
“Prongs,” Remus said with weary patience. “Not everything silver and snake-shaped is cursed.”
“Everything from him is cursed, Moony! You should be on my side!”
Regulus was sitting on the edge of the couch now, looking perfectly composed, his head tilting slightly. “If it were cursed, Potter, your brother wouldn’t be holding it without screaming in agony.”
“That proves nothing!” James insisted.
Harry ignored his brother, staring at Regulus with shining eyes as he held the pendant up to the firelight. “It’s— it’s brilliant… what are these runes for? This must have cost a fortune!”
“Those runes are for protection,” Regulus said simply. “They were my great-grandmother Hesper’s; she charmed it as a precaution during Grindelwald’s reign of terror.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he reached into his robes and pulled out an identical pendant to the one in Harry’s hands, hanging against his own chest. “If either of us touches it, the other will glow and warm. A signal, if you need me.”
Harry’s mouth dropped open, as his eyes shone with what appeared to be tears. “You— you made them matching? To protect me?” he choked out.
James made a noise akin to a dying animal, somewhere between a howl, a strangled croak, and a whine. “MATCHING NECKLACES? WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN’S LEFT BOLLOCK? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”
Sirius, instead, was laughing his heart out. “Oh Merlin— Reggie, that’s downright poetic!” he wheezed, slapping his knee. “You’ve gone soft, little snake.”
“It’s practical,” Regulus’s lips twitched in the faintest of smirks.
“Practical my arse,” Sirius cackled. “It’s a courting gift!”
Regulus then directed his attention towards Harry, who was still looking at the pendant with a disbelieving expression, as if he couldn’t believe that someone would give him such a thoughtful gift. The raucous scene around them seemed to dissipate into background noises, James’s indignant outcry and pleas for his dad to do something before Haz gets corrupted, going into one ear and out the other.
Regulus watched as Harry lifted his head and made eye contact with Regulus, gleaming green meeting silver, before the Potter closed the distance between them. Harry handed Regulus the necklace and turned around once the latter took it, confusion melting into something tender. He circled the metal chain around Harry’s neck before clasping it on the back, against Harry’s nape. His fingers accidentally brushed Harry’s nape, noticing how the small hair there stood up in response to the touch. Harry then turned around again, facing him, before surging forward and circling his arms around Regulus’s neck, giving him a grateful hug. Regulus’s arms instinctively wrapped around the younger’s waist, reciprocating the tight hug.
“Thank you, Regulus,” Harry whispered into his ear. “Truly.”
Regulus merely tightened the hug in response.
Harry lay in bed, the chaos of Christmas day having quietened down. Wrapping papers were still littered downstairs, James had sulked himself to sleep, Sirius was probably still laughing about “the courting necklace”, and Remus had retreated early to his room, muttering something about needing a rest from Prongs’s antics.
Harry couldn’t sleep. His fingers kept drifting to the silver crescent resting against his collarbone. The metal was cool, the serpents delicately etched, the faintly shimmering runes carefully carved. Almost without thinking, Harry gripped the pendant in one hand, thumb brushing softly across it.
The warmth Regulus had described earlier came instantly, one that emanated from the pendant into Harry’s self, from his thumb to his hand and his entire body. Harry’s breath caught, staring at the ceiling, half-expecting nothing else to happen. But then— he heard the door of the room next to him unlocking and opening, and the distinct sound of footsteps nearing his room. Then—
Tap, tap, tap.
He bolted upright. That was his door.
“Harry?” Regulus’s soft, careful voice carried softly through the wood, as if he were afraid that it all had only been in his imagination. “Are you all right?”
Heart thudding, Harry scrambled out of bed and rushed to pull the door open. Regulus stood there, hair slightly mussed from sleep, the metal chain of his own necklace visible against his neck, going down to underneath his nightclothes.
“You felt that?” Harry whispered.
Regulus’s lips curved, barely noticeable yet there. “Of course. That was the point.”
Harry swallowed, his fingers brushing the pendant again. “I didn’t think,” he started shyly, “it would actually… work so quickly.”
“Magic tends to be reliable when done properly,” Regulus murmured, eyes glinting with amusement. He hesitated for a bit, as if considering if he should say what he wanted to say, but then— “You can always use it,” he added quietly. “For anything. Even something as simple as this.”
Harry flushed scarlet, grinning despite himself. “You mean— just to see you?”
Regulus glanced away, his cheeks pinking slightly, before inclining his head. “If that’s what you want.”
Harry’s chest felt too warm for words, so he merely tugged Regulus inside before James could wake up and ruin that moment; I swear he sometimes has a sixth sense for this kind of stuff.
The next day, Harry woke up spooned in Regulus’s tight embrace, limbs entangled, the latter’s arms encircled around his waist, the former’s face pressed snugly against a firm chest. James nearly had a seizure when he saw Regulus stepping out of Harry’s room, smiling as if he’d just won the world, hair slightly mussed and necklace glinting in the soft morning rays.
After the Christmas break had ended, the children all returned to Hogwarts to continue the rest of their term. Despite the looming O.W.L.s, which meant hours spent in the library studying theories, muttering incantations under his breath, and memorising wandworks, Regulus never felt happier. Perhaps that was due to the fact that the late hours in the library were not spent in solitude; ever since Yule, Harry and Regulus grew inseparably closer. Harry sometimes joined Regulus at the Slytherin table, much to the consternation of James, and sometimes Regulus also ate with Harry and the Gryffindors. Of course, he had to endure suspicious glares from James, but it was nothing he had never faced before.
Regulus was just waiting for the perfect moment to finally confess to Harry. He was thinking of the last Quidditch match of the year, when he would capture the Golden Snitch and bring victory to Slytherins and ask Harry out in front of the entire student body. He had planned it out carefully with meticulous detail; it would be the best thing ever, and he’d end the year with Harry to call his boyfriend.
However, it appeared unforeseen circumstances would have to force him to revise his plan to one he could execute immediately.
The Great Hall was loud with chatter and the clinking of cutlery. Students were happily exchanging gossip or interesting stories with one another, some were more inclined to study, as in the case with the fifth- and seventh-years. However, Regulus fit into none of those boxes. His attention was fixed on one thing: the Hufflepuff boy leaning a little too close to Harry.
Nathaniel “Nate” Allison, a soft-spoken and undeniably charming Hufflepuff sixth-year who had a knack for making people laugh, sat at the Gryffindor Table, a bit farther down from where Regulus was sitting with his brother and his friends. With sandy blond curls that fell stylishly into his eyes and an easy smile, Allison was the kind of boy everyone liked — friendly, easygoing, and humorous.
That night at dinner, he was leaning across the table, chin propped on his hand, grinning as he told Harry a story about an “incident” involving some Slytherins who were bullying the younger Hufflepuffs. Harry was laughing, head tipped back, and Allison’s gaze lingered just a beat too long at the pale expanse of Harry’s enticing neck.
Harry’s cheeks flushed pink as he laughed at something the Hufflepuff said, and Regulus’s fork bent in his hand with a sharp crack.
“Merlin’s beard,” Sirius muttered, leaning across the table to inspect his brother’s knuckle-white grip. “You planning on stabbing someone with that, or…?”
“Perhaps,” Regulus bit, voice sharp enough to slice glass.
James followed Regulus’s gaze, and his eyes narrowed instantly. “Who is that? And why is he looking at Harry like that?”
“Because your brother is attractive, Prongs,” Sirius snorted. “Reggie isn’t the only competitor here. Shocking, I know.”
“Harry’s too young to be dating,” James scowled.
“You were eleven when you declared you wanted to marry Evans,” Sirius drawled.
“That’s different!”
“Sure it is,” Sirius smirked, then elbowed Regulus out of his death stare at Allison. “So what’s your plan, Reggie? Glare him to death? Hex his shoes to stick to the floor? Or—”
But Regulus was already on his feet, his robes swirling and billowing behind him as he stalked towards Harry. James shook his head, muttering under his breath, “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I fully support whatever he’s doing.”
“Maybe I could show you sometime,” Nate added casually, his tone just flirty enough for Harry to blink in surprise. His cheeks warmed, from embarrassment or laughter, he wasn’t sure. He opened his mouth to give a polite refusal, but that was when a shadow fell over the table, and Nate’s expression faltered under Regulus Black’s unreadable stare.
“Harry,” Regulus’s voice was steady, but there was a touch of danger to it, like a blade wrapped in silk. “Can you come with me for a moment?”
Harry blinked up at him, startled. “Uh… sure?”
Nate gave Harry a nervous smile before quickly standing up and returning to the Hufflepuff table, abandoning his plate. Regulus’s expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in his posture that made Harry’s stomach flutter with curiosity as he extended his hand to Harry and led him out of the Great Hall once he took it, whispers abuzz in the air that they left.
They walked in silence through the castle, the echo of their footsteps jarring against the otherwise calm corridor. Harry opened his mouth to ask where they were going, but stopped at the look on Regulus’s face: intense, pensive, as though he was holding back words that burnt to be spoken.
“Reg?” Harry tried softly, the unspoken question hanging in the air.
Regulus glanced at him without halting, his expression softening just enough to make Harry’s chest tighten.
“Somewhere quiet,” he murmured, as if that explained everything.
Lanterns flickered faintly as they passed them, climbing up the winding stairs that led them up to the Astronomy Tower. Harry’s mind churned with questions with every step he took, but he didn’t dare voice them out loud. Once they stepped into the Tower, the world seemed to open before them — the night sky stretched endlessly overhead, stars scattered like silver dust, and the crescent moon glowed pale and watchful.
Regulus released Harry’s hand, but he lingered close, shoulders tense, leaning against the parapet as the cool night breeze tousled his curls. For a moment, neither spoke, one riddled with the nervousness that naturally came with what he was about to say, the other one confused. They merely stood there, tracing constellations with their eyes, mouths itching to speak words that were hesitant to be spoken aloud.
“Reg?” Harry broke the silence, giving him a small smile, one that could brighten Regulus’s day more than any stars could, trying to diffuse the tension. “Are you finally going to tell me why you dragged me up here, or…?”
Regulus turned towards him fully, and the look in his eyes made Harry’s words stuck in his throat. There was no trace of his usual composure, no guarded mask— just intensely raw, unfiltered emotion.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Regulus’s voice was thick with emotion, and so low, it was almost lost in the air around them.
Harry blinked, confusion deepening. “Do what?”
“Pretend I’m fine watching other people look at you like they deserve you,” Regulus said sharply, the words tumbling out like he’d been holding them back for weeks. He stepped closer, reaching for the necklace at Harry’s throat, one that Harry had been wearing religiously ever since Regulus gave him, his fingers brushing against the cool metal. “I gave you this because… you already have all of me, Harry; you’ve had me for a while.”
Harry’s heart skipped, the knot in his chest tightening so hard he felt it was about to burst open.
Regulus swallowed hard, his composure cracking as he whispered, “I’m yours— have been yours for a long time. Please. Be mine. Let me be yours. ”
The world seemed to lurch to a halt. It was as if the passage of time had taken pity on them and accommodated them by slowing down entirely, giving time for Harry to process the words Regulus had just confessed.
Harry stared at him, heart hammering so hard he swore Regulus could hear it. The night air suddenly felt thick, heavy, blanketing around them as if the stars above were collectively holding their breath. Regulus stood before him — proud, composed Regulus Black — looking fragile as if the wrong word would shatter him inside out.
Harry’s breath hitched, the rhythm of his breathing matching Regulus’s, where he could see the faint rise and fall of Regulus’s chest, the tremor in his fingers where they hovered just inches from Harry’s cheek, having made their way from his throat. The cool metal of the necklace against his chest felt grounding, tethering him to this moment— to Regulus.
The silence stretched unsettlingly— or perhaps it lasted for too long, as the next thing Harry knew was Regulus dropping his hand limply back to his side, face crumpled and bowed, shoulders sagging down as if they were burdened down by an insurmountable weight. He looked broken, as if Harry had just said something devastating.
“Never mind,” he croaked, sounding as if he was seconds from bursting into tears. “I… just forget— what I’ve said. This never happened.”
He turned around, moving to leave the Tower and Harry, dispirited and dejected. Before he could get so much as a step, though, Harry snapped out of his thoughts, and his hand shot out to curl around Regulus’s wrist with desperation. Harry had dreamed of this, wanted this, waited for this to happen, but seeing Regulus like this — offering himself so completely — stole the words from his mouth. He wasn’t about to let Regulus go away, now and forever. Regulus flinched as if the touch sent currents of electricity through his arm, and turned around to face Harry, whose lips were curved into the softest smile.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, voice low and steady.
The words sent relief over Regulus’s face so palpably that it made Harry’s chest ache. Regulus exhaled shakily, his free hand moving to cup Harry’s face shakily as he leaned in until there was barely an inch between them. The question was clear in his grey eyes as they stared into Harry’s emerald ones, and once the Gryffindor nodded, Regulus closed the distance and kissed him, slowly and reverently, like he had been waiting for this his entire life.
As their lips met, the crescent moon necklace they wore warmed against their skin, as if responding to the stars above that seemed to flicker in approval. The runes etched into the metal emitted a faint golden glow, pulsing softly, like a pair of synchronised heartbeats, wrapping them in warmth that made the cold night air vanish. As their lips slotted and moved gently against one another, faces tilting to find a comfortable angle, the waxing crescent moon appeared to shine more brilliantly, showering a side of their faces with soft moonlight.
After what could have been hours, they finally pulled apart, panting, greedily taking heaps of breaths while also smiling wildly. Their forehead rested against one another as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes, expressing emotions that could never be described with mere words.
In that moment, there was only Harry and Regulus, bound together by quiet magic and celestial bodies and something far older, far stronger than either of them could name.
Noorherself Mon 25 Aug 2025 05:27AM UTC
Comment Actions
imyourworstnightmare Mon 25 Aug 2025 08:29AM UTC
Comment Actions
Kay13313 Wed 27 Aug 2025 01:52AM UTC
Comment Actions
imyourworstnightmare Wed 27 Aug 2025 04:41AM UTC
Comment Actions