The 64 chapter one

by Bossey

Remover

3. 3

Chapter 3: Quidditch Changing Rooms

Summary:

It was quite a shock to the system to discover that Regulus could have an intense crush on someone he hated. He's held both truths in his mind ever since—I hate James Potter; I have a debilitating crush on James Potter—a complex contradiction that he wishes would cease to haunt him but that simply will not. Neither of these truths have got any less significant over time.

Notes:

Hello! This chapter is a little longer, and I'll try to keep them at similar level throughout but I'm more focused on the content than the wordcount, so I can't guarantee chapter length :)

TW for this one:

References to Reg's insomnia

Mentions of Reg's dependency on the sleeping draughts

A lot of swearing

References to child abuse (Sirius's backstory)

Brief violence between siblings (someone's shoved against a wall)

Mentions of underage drinking

Mentions of homophobia

I think that's it! Enjoy :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

James is early for practice because he's the Captain and it's his duty to lead by example. He also likes to change in peace, without the rest of the team bantering around him. It's the little bit of alone time he gets, and he savours it.

Nobody would guess that James Potter likes silence. If you asked his friends, he's happiest in the middle of a party, capturing attention. Telling jokes and making people laugh. This is correct. But James also likes moments alone. Quiet. A break from the expectations that come with all eyes on him.

It's different for Sirius, because Sirius can't be left alone. James knows and gets this. Sirius has demons perched on his shoulder and if he's alone they whisper in his ear. He's got better at fighting them, but James suspects Sirius' battle with trauma is for life.

He wishes he could erase it all. Protect him from it. Blast Grimmauld place from the earth and all its inhabitants from existence. But he can't, so he's loud with Sirius to keep the demons at bay.

And the few pockets of quiet he gets here and there are nice. A respite. A few moments to put himself together so he can keep fighting for his friends.

But this is not the thing to be thinking about before their first practice of the final year, so James redirects his thoughts. Focuses on how he's going to motivate his team to give it all. He wants to leave Hogwarts with the Quidditch cup. He's won it twice, but third time's the true charm. He wants to be a legend and his team will get him there. They'll be legends together.

He takes off his school uniform and drops it into a pile, wasting no time putting his quidditch gear on. James thinks highly of himself at all times, but when he's wearing his quidditch stuff he feels positively invincible. He's just tying the buttons on the front of his pants when he hears the unmistakable and frankly disturbing sound of a shower.

There should be no one here. No one at all.

The previous team to have practice finished ages ago. He schedules this on purpose. There's absolutely no reason for anyone to still be here. This is his quiet time. Reflection time, prep time. He's a Captain, and he needs time to strategize.

Who the hell is disturbing his quiet? Absolutely unacceptable.

Yanking his boots on and tying them takes longer than he'd like, so he's only just about managed to take a step forward when the intruder emerges from the showers.

And well.

Fuck.

Like. For real. James can feel his jaw practically hit the floor. His mouth goes dry. It's a miracle he's still standing. How anyone could be confronted with a wet Regulus Black wearing only a towel slung low across his hips and survive it unscathed is a mystery to James. Because he's not and will never again be the same. This image has tattooed itself behind his eyelids forevermore.

Just.

Fuck.

James wants to hit on him. He wants to give him a look and a smile, and flex his muscles to see if he bites. Because that's just what James does. He hits on people he likes, and hopes they like him back enough to see if it can go somewhere. A hookup, or the start of something special. He's not picky, and he's okay with both, though James much prefers commitment. Except he can't. Not this time. He absolutely can't say or do anything. Not to Regulus.

Hell, for all James knows, Regulus doesn't even like boys. Most people think it's wrong. Disgusting. And knowing what he knows about the Black family there's a high chance Regulus would curse him for even suggesting that he might find him attractive.

So James simply stands there, a million thoughts running through his head, and unable to move or breathe or function because there are drops of water clinging to the planes of Regulus' body and catching the light and Godric have mercy James is unwell.

Regulus is unbothered and oblivious to James' frantic thoughts. He pauses for a second, a hand lodged in his wet curls. Stares at James with mild confusion as though trying to guess why he's here early, scowls a little, then walks to a row of lockers without a word.

James is losing his mind. Regulus is fit. He's lean, and nimble, and has muscles that are long and just about visible - very much not like James' which pop out through his skin like they need to be noticed. His skin is fucking perfect. Unblemished. He's just… James thinks Regulus is the most gorgeous human being he's ever laid eyes upon.

Which is a fucking injustice because James is loyal to Sirius and Sirius hates his brother for staying with his family. Sirius hates his brother because he hurt him more than all the Cruciatus curses he endured in that house put together.

Also, because Regulus despises Sirius and all things Sirius-adjacent as well. James is way more than Sirius-adjacent and proud of it. So.

Basically, James has discovered the forbidden fruit. And he wants a taste, but he's very much aware of all the reasons why it's forbidden. He knows. He understands. He respects.

He'd never risk upsetting Sirius over what is, very obviously to him, a sudden onset of overwhelming lust.

It still sucks, though. Because James can't remember the last time he had this big a reaction to someone. He isn't sure he ever has reacted this strongly before. Which is frankly a fucking shame.

"Go away," Regulus snaps, looking over his shoulder.

In the time James has been having an internal crisis, he's pulled on a pair of black pants. He stops for a moment, stretches his arms over his head. James' breath hitches as he arches his back a little, careless. Like he doesn't give a damn that James is there. Regulus picks up a shirt.

"I just… I didn't think anyone would still be in here," James says, even though he's not sure why. He should just turn around. Walk to his corner. Finish gearing up and head out to the pitch. "Why are you still here?"

Regulus doesn't bother looking at him this time. "None of your business."

This, it turns out, was the worst thing Regulus could have said because James is now curious as well as fascinated by the ways in which Regulus' skin moves over his body as he dresses himself. He realises, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he shouldn't be watching. But also, Regulus hasn't really complained. He isn't bothered at all as far as James can tell.

"I'm curious," James tells him. Honest. Open. It's always worked for him. He's a terrible liar. "It's best if you tell me so I can stop being curious and leave you alone. Otherwise, I'll pester you until I get an answer."

Regulus does turn, then. James is glad, because he cannot—and will not—touch but as long as Regulus continues to allow it, James will continue to look because this boy is an absolute gift from the deities.

"Potter. You have five seconds to remove yourself from my presence before I start to remove your limbs from your body," Regulus says. It's sharp and cold. Like he means it.

It's insane. James knows Regulus can't do something like this. They're in school, there are rules. Limits.

Also, he wouldn't. He just… would he?

His gut twists and it's both fear and excitement. Something is very wrong with him, but not enough that he can't tell when something's not an empty threat.

A part of him wants to believe Regulus wouldn't really hurt him but he isn't sure and that's… well. He shouldn't like that as much as he does, of this he is certain.

Still. He can't fuck around and find out. Because this is Regulus Black and he is James Potter and James Potter is loyal to a fault.

James retreats. Regulus goes back to getting dressed.

It takes all of two seconds for his brain to start going off on tangents. Why was Regulus here alone so late? When did he get this hot? Would he really hurt him?

He's won this round, but James wasn't lying when he said curiosity would compel him to keep digging.

Something clearly happened to Regulus this summer. He grew up—not just physically, but also… like, he's a man. In control. Collected. Cool. He's beautiful in the way dangerous things are. Knives. Cliffs. Jagged rocks battered by the ocean. A storm. James smiles, though he doesn't notice it.

Regulus is gorgeous and terrifying. Moony told him, and James had forgotten until now. He shouldn't have forgotten because Remus is never wrong and also very few things scare his werewolf friend.

And what does it all mean? Could it be that Regulus has also got out? No. He would know, wouldn't he? Sirius would have heard if Regulus had ditched his family.

From who? Sirius goes out of his way to avoid any contact with anyone from his life before he ran away. So, it could be, and they wouldn't know. James drops his shirt, which he was toying with in his hands. If Regulus has left his family… if there's a chance that he might not be the blood purist Sirius believes him to be… well. James should find out because Sirius should know. Because deep down he misses his brother.

It's James' duty to figure this out because if it can bring the Black brothers close again, well then. He can't just not.

Godric's bollocks. James has half a mind to interrogate Regulus right there in the changing room until he gets answers, except when he turns around Regulus is gone. James didn't hear him leave. The boy is stealthy and quick. Part of the reason he's such a good Seeker. James doesn't like the ease with which Regulus left. How can he be so… unbothered when James is so… the opposite?

It's unfair.

With a sigh, James walks out onto the pitch a bit later. Someone's playing a prank on him, he's sure. Perhaps a cosmic joke to get back at him for all the pranks he pulled over the staff and student body of this school without mercy or remorse for the past six years. Because the fact that Regulus Black has become this disturbingly terrifying and aggressively hot person cannot be anything else than slow torture. And, if he's to endure it, then James absolutely must know what happened to Regulus Black to make him like this.

Regulus ducks into the first empty classroom he can find and closes the door behind him. He strolls in casually, elegantly. He glances around, sweeping the entire room with one lazy but observant gaze. Regulus pulls out his wand and casts a spell to confirm no one is hiding.

He leans back against the wall. Casts a silencing charm powerful enough to shield a torture chamber—don't ask how he learnt this. With an affected air of boredom, Regulus waits for a few seconds and repeats the first spell to reveal human presence. Nothing.

He is alone. Completely, and utterly alone. He puts his wands in its holster and takes a deep breath. And then, he lets out a long "fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck" and folds over himself, dry heaving.

Salazar fucking Slytherin.

What the hell just happened?

James Potter happened, that's what. He was… just there. Clad in quidditch pants, shirtless and glorious and… Regulus groans out loud, letting his head fall back against the door with a dull thud.

He feels like his blood is boiling, which is quite alarming. As a person who's almost always cold, this rush of heat coursing through him is disconcerting. But he just can't… James was just standing there half naked.

"Oh my God," Regulus pushes his hair back, away from his face. He doesn't know what to do with himself.

He's imagined it, obviously. His mind has conjured a hundred different ways James Potter looks like under his clothes. One does not have a crush on the despicable guy who stole your brother for years and not have a fantasy or two hundred. It's a part of himself he's kept under lock and key, because the day Regulus saw James Potter for the first time was the day he understood he was gay. Extremely, irrevocably, gay.

It was quite a shock to the system to discover that he could have an intense crush on someone he hated. He's held both truths in his mind ever since—I hate James Potter; I have a debilitating crush on James Potter—a complex contradiction that he wishes would cease to haunt him but simply will not. Neither of these truths have got any less significant over time.

So yes. He has, on occasion, imagined what James looks like naked. He is a teenage boy, despite everything. So. What else was he supposed to do? And yes. It'd been quite impressive, in his mind. That body that he wants to both worship and obliterate. Quite good indeed.

And yet.

And yet.

Regulus' imagination was so fucking wrong, so fucking pathetic, it's embarrassing because whatever he could imagine, James in the flesh is a million times better.

It was all Regulus could do not to attack him as soon as they came face to face. Oh, he would have licked every single one of those ab muscles. Just like. Unfair any one person could have that many. Honestly.

Regulus takes a deep breath. It's fine. He's fine. Everything's fucking peachy.

It's not.

He lets out a garbled noise, hitting his head against the back wall again. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Regulus wishes he didn't need to blink because every time his eyes close he sees him. Standing there. Soft lines and sharp edges in all the right places, a dusting of hair that Regulus can't think about without wanting to pass out. His glasses a little crooked, like he was careless when he took his shirt off. Regulus wanted to reach out and straighten them so bad.

He was just there. Staring. Staring at him. Why?

James looked truly dumbfounded, like running into the Slytherin Seeker in the Quidditch changing rooms was so out of the realm of possibility it broke his brain. He's an idiot.

He's the hottest idiot to ever idiot, but still. Regulus needs to put this incident out of his mind and move on. He still hates that James Potter exists, and what he represents. He dislikes his personality - which as far as Regulus can tell consists of being the Quidditch Captain and wearing glasses. That's not enough, Regulus thinks, but he's clearly in the minority because everyone just happens to absolutely worship the ground Potter walks on. His own brother included.

Regulus scoffs, wrapping the hatred around himself like a blanket. It helps. Thinking of the way Potter slid into Sirius' life and slotted himself in the space that was supposed to be Regulus'. It doesn't matter how attracted he is to James. James is still one of the reasons Sirius left.

This is the last moment of weakness Regulus allows himself. One more jagged breath, one more string of curses falling from his lips.

Enough is enough. He's got things to do. Potions to brew. Books to read. He's got research to go through.

He has a complex and long term vengeance plan to enact.

With that, Regulus composes himself. He straightens his clothes and fixes his hair. Even his breathing. When he's ready, he leaves the room towards the potions lab where he spends the next few hours mixing lavender with asphodel petals and valerian roots for his dreamless sleeping draught.

After a dinner he avoided—instead going directly to the kitchens to ask the elves for some food—he catches up with Pandora. Because now that he has spent some time immersed in potion making, he feels less rattled and much more level headed. Besides, Pandora would never forgive him if he didn't find her tonight.

He should have looked for her after dinner yesterday, but he's seen her chatting to some Gryffindor girls and he'd just decided he couldn't be arsed. Not tonight, though. Tonight he needs the distraction. Pandora is great at those, because she's always got something or other to talk about.

He finds her at the bottom of the staircase, having just walked out of the Great Hall.

She's delighted to see him, and let's him know by squeaking loudly and throwing her hands up in the air. Regulus rolls his eyes but gives her a small nod. Together, they head away from the tumult of dinner-leavers and towards a less crowded corridor.

"I had a dream last night," is the first thing she says to him, and Regulus' every muscle tenses. Pandora's dreams terrify him.

"Do I want to know?"

She collects all of her blond hair over one shoulder and gives him a little shrug. "You don't. But you need to," she says calmly, blue eyes twinkling with wisdom well beyond her sixteen years. She's always been this way. An old, eccentric soul in a young body.

Regulus sighs and nods. He knows not to fight this. Pandora is inevitable.

She looks him in the eye, solemn. "You're in a cave. It's dark, and wet, and cold, and you're afraid. You're very afraid."

Regulus scoffs. "Thanks."

Pandora gives him A Look and he relents, allowing her to finish. "Reg. It was a bad dream," her voice wavers and Regulus feels irrationally guilty, even though it's not his fault that his dream self did something to upset Pandora.

"What do you mean?"

She takes a fortifying breath. "Well. When things get really rough… You give up."

"Huh?"

Pandora moves as if to touch him, then thinks better of it. "You give up. In the dream I had, you just… accept the end and don't try to fight it. It was heartbreaking, Reg. It wasn't right." She wipes a tear from her cheek that has Regulus reeling, but before he can voice his confusion, Pandora squares her shoulders and says, "But you can't give up, Reg. You can't. I won't let you."

"Pan, I have no idea what you're talking about."

She closes her eyes, rubs her temples. "I woke myself up and went back to sleep so I could have the dream again. And I asked it, how does he not give up? And I saw it, Reg. I saw it."

"Saw what?"

"The cave. You. Giving up. And then… ah, it was glorious Reg. So I need you to promise me. Swear to me that when you feel like you can't keep going, you'll think of the sun. Because in my dreams, if you think of the sun, you find the strength to keep going. And I need you to always keep going. No matter what."

Regulus is baffled, because he's so much more of a night person. He'd think the stars would be more inspiring. He doesn't dislike the sun, he's not a monster, but… it's just not that special, is it? Except Regulus knows better than to dismiss Pandora's dreams and warnings. She sees everything, even if half the time they don't know what it is she is seeing.

With a sigh, Regulus admits defeat and asks. "What do you think it means?"

"No," Pandora says vehemently. "Promise me."

Regulus rolls his eyes. "Sure. Yes, Pan. I promise I'll think of the sun. But what is the sun? Is it literal?"

She relaxes, twirls a finger in a blond lock of hair. "I don't think it's literal, no. I think it means that when you think all hope is lost, you need to look for the bright side. The reason you're doing what you're doing. The cave is just you and your feelings because you repress them and act like they don't exist."

Regulus wants to argue, but she doesn't let him.

"The sun represents something, too, but I'm not sure what yet. Something that makes you happy. That makes you acknowledge those feelings."

Ah. So it's about emotions.

He's about had enough of those for a day, what with his run in with Potter earlier and everything. Regulus has to swallow the retort that wants to escape him, because Pandora is too pure for his vitriol and she genuinely thinks this will help.

Regulus doesn't know how to tell her that he couldn't care less about her fluffy, emotion related dreams. He was hoping for something that would shed light on his revenge plans. Something about the war, perhaps. About whether he's got a chance at success. At survival.

Still, he knows better than to dismiss her completely, so he files this information in his brain. He doubts it will ever happen, but if he's ever in a dark cave, he'll remember to think of the sun.

"I can't think of anything," he says instead, because she's still waiting. "Could be literal sun. I do like it, I suppose."

"I've told you before. None of my dreams are literal," Pandora insists. "Don't worry, we'll find your sun. Oh, that reminds me, today when I was outside I ran into Marlene McKinnon, lovely girl that one," at this, Regulus has to snort. McKinnon isn't lovely. She's unhinged. Regulus knows her because she's a beater for Gryffindor. She flies like she's escaping an angry banshee. "And she invited me to this party at the edge of the Forbidden Forest on Friday. We should go. Dorcas wants to go."

Regulus can't think of anything he'd like less than to crash a Gryffindor party and he's about to tell Pandora when she adds, "I hear they've smuggled firewhisky. I think it'll be quite exciting."

He wrinkles his nose. Pulls at a curl at the back of his hair. Drunk people at the edge of the forbidden forest sounds like a recipe for disaster. Alcohol is a fantastic excuse for people to do shit they shouldn't be doing. A lot of things can happen in the dark.

Hmmm. A little clog goes ping in his brain.

He's… well. It's his last year of this. He's sixteen now. Old enough to join the cause. He won't be coming back to Hogwarts a seventh time, which he's accepted. It's necessary if he's to get everything he wants.

Vengeance requires sacrifice. This, Regulus knows well.

And there is no line too holy to cross. Not in pursuit of revenge.

But he's still just a teenager. For the last few months of his life he's… just a student in a school surrounded by other students. The outside world and all its ugliness seeps in through the cracks, but it doesn't encroach yet. That won't happen until Easter.

Selfishly, Regulus wants to know what it's like. He wants a few memories. Moments he can just think back on when the going gets tough. He has never been and will never be a normal kid, but he feels entitled to some level of… teenage antics. Isn't he?

Perhaps this is what Pandora's dream meant. That he needs something… if not fun, then at least entertaining. Something a normal kid would do. It can't hurt, can it?

"Reg?" Pandora asks. He barely notices, thinking hard as he is about all the reasons he, against his better judgement, perhaps should just agree.

Surely, Regulus ought to know what a party feels like. He's never even been drunk before. He should know, he reasons. Because knowledge is power.

There's a good chance he won't survive what's coming. Regulus doesn't want to die without having been tipsy. Or kissed someone. Ideally, he'd also like to have sex. Just the once. So he doesn't wonder anymore.

Regulus wants to know.

Pandora takes his silence for reluctance, and says, "Reg, please. Dorcas and I really wanna go and Barty and Evan will never agree if you say no. Please."

She pouts at him and it's so easy for Regulus to pretend this is about his friends. He'll do it for them, not for himself. This is what he holds on to as he nods.

"Fine," he says, sounding bored.

Pandora beams so widely her eyes wrinkle, almost swallowed by her cheeks. It's kind of adorable, and Regulus almost smiles. Almost.

They find an empty alcove and sit down together. Catching up with Pandora is always nice, even though she's the only person Regulus bothers to write to when they're not in school. She knows he can't write everything in his letters, because his mother reads his mail, so she always shows up with a list of questions.

They're discussing whether it's healthy for Regulus to have developed a dependency on the sleeping draught—Pandora argues dependency on anything is bad, no matter what, while Regulus insists that chronic insomnia is worse as evidenced by the poor state of his physical health towards the end of their previous year—when four people turn the corner and come strolling down the corridor in their direction.

Regulus recognises the voice that's speaking immediately. He'd know it anywhere. No matter what.

"I told him to go fuck himself, obviously," Sirius is saying, sounding rather angry. "The audacity. I mean… am I not… is there any doubt left?"

"Absolutely not. None," says James immediately. No hesitation.

Regulus has to resist the urge to look over his shoulder. As they're sitting, the alcove obscures him and Pandora from view enough that Sirius and his friends won't see them until they're upon them.

Regulus thinks it's Pettigrew who speaks next. "It could have been a test. Maybe you hate your parents but not the cause. Who knows."

Sirius scoffs. "Well, now they know. They fucking know."

Regulus frowns, concern churning in his stomach. If he's understanding this right, some idiot tried to… no. No one would be stupid enough. They wouldn't. Oh, Salazar help him if they are… Regulus is going to hurt someone very badly. They know they can't even whisper about it at Hogwarts unless they're certain the person they're speaking to is in on it.

"Did he give you any details?" James again.

"No. I should have played along, shouldn't I? To try and get some information," Sirius groans. "I'm an idiot. I got angry too quickly."

Lupin's voice is so soft Regulus has to strain to hear it. "You're not an idiot, Sirius."

Regulus does peer over his shoulder now. They're closer anyway, and they will see him and Pandora soon enough. And he's curious, because something in the way Lupin spoke to his brother is so… different to how Pettigrew and James did that Regulus couldn't not notice.

Regulus wonders. So he looks.

Sirius' hands are in his pockets, and he's hunched over like he's throwing a tantrum but Regulus can see from his vantage point that his lips are curled up. Lupin is watching Sirius with a sort of tender concern that Regulus doesn't understand but makes him sort of want to curl into a ball and weep. It's disturbing.

Pettigrew is unbothered, simply walking next to his friends.

James is also looking at Sirius. At least until Regulus' eyes drift over to him. As though he can sense it, James looks up and their gazes lock.

Absolutely fucking not.

Regulus recoils into the alcove so hard he knocks his head on the wall, but he doesn't even flinch. The pain is welcome. It helps him keep a grip on the absolutely ridiculous reaction he's just had over accidentally making eye contact with James. With Potter.

"Hello," Pandora says pleasantly when they walk into range.

Regulus' heart is hammering his ribs with such passion he's sure they'll bruise.

He wants them to keep going, to pass them by without further ado. He doesn't get his wish. Sirius looks up at Pandora and nods—everyone is nice to Pandora—but his expression freezes when he finds Regulus.

"You," he says. There's no stubble on his chin, which is new. He was attempting to grow a beard last time he saw his brother.

"So eloquent," Regulus replies.

Sirius takes a step forward. Potter puts a hand on his shoulder and it's that small gesture more than any mental berating that truly helps Regulus get out of his hormone-induced brain-fog and place him firmly in the 'stay away from' category. James Potter doesn't know how to be anywhere other than on Sirius Black's side.

"Was it your idea?" Sirius says. "Did you think it'd be funny?"

Lupin steps up to Sirius, too. "Sirius… I don't think—"

"Selwyn is your friend," he says, ignoring Lupin completely.

Regulus should know better than to engage. Sirius is obviously upset about something and looking for a fight. He should know better. He doesn't.

"Selwyn is a cretin," Regulus responds.

Sirius smirks. "Same thing."

Regulus tilts his head to the side, lets his eyes trail over his brother's body. Sirius looks good. Healthy. Strong. It's clear the Potters treat him well. Regulus wants to hit him. He wants him to hurt. But he knows better than to act on impulses. That gets him nowhere. He's not like Sirius, which is why he'll succeed everywhere Sirius failed.

"How witty," Regulus says dryly.

Regulus leans back, turns to face Pandora. As expected, it infuriates Sirius to no end that he's not paying him attention anymore. He surges forward, catching everyone by surprise. James included. He's a beat too slow and so doesn't manage to stop Sirius from grabbing Regulus' robes and pulling him up to his feet.

"He's in your dorm. Selwyn. Did you put him up to it? Huh? Did you!?"

Suddenly, Regulus is eye-to-eye with his brother, which seems to disorient Sirius. It's satisfying, and Regulus smiles then. A cold, sharp thing. "Careful, brother. I'm not so little anymore."

Sirius rallies, because that's what he does. He'd rather go down than admit to having miscalculated. "If any of your friends ever come near me again with their blood purist bullshit, I will kill them."

"How very primitive," Regulus says, still calm despite the fact that his brother has him by his collar. "But then again, that's you Gryffindors, isn't it? Righteous violence in the name of bravery."

He looks down briefly to Sirius' white-knuckled hands. It works. Sirius releases him like he's been burnt, sending Regulus staggering back a step. Regulus simply looks at him, scrunching his nose in disgust.

"Better that than to be a spineless little shit," he snarls, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He's grown it longer. Their mother would have a fit if she saw him now.

"Is this the part where you call me a snake hoping to offend me?" Regulus glances at his hand, where one of his rings has twisted a little. He readjusts it.

"No, Reg," Sirius says, taking a step back to rejoin his friends who've watched the whole exchange while shifting their weight from one foot to the other. Probably waiting for the moment they need to intervene. "This is the part where I tell you I'm not playing games anymore. If any of you come near me or those I care about again, I'll make you regret it."

"Now, I'm terrified," Regulus says, rolling his eyes. Truth be told, he's curious. Sirius was itching for a fight, but he barely gave in to the urge. Regulus isn't sure what this means.

"You should be," Sirius replies. "Don't forget I grew up in the same house you did. Whatever they've taught you, I learnt first."

Sirius turns and makes a head gesture that his little posey understands as 'we're going' because they all start walking without another word. Pandora is fussing over him, asking him if he's okay, but Regulus' eyes are glued to the back of his brother's head.

Something's changed. Sirius has never been so… mature. So dangerous. Fuck, that's it, isn't it? It's as though Sirius has realised he's not a kid anymore. But why? Up until last year, he was planning stupid pranks with his lot, causing a ruckus every bloody where they went. He lived for the attention and the attention only. So why now?

There's a rustle behind him, then a gentle hand on his arm, so light it could be a feather. "Reg, say something," Pandora urges.

"I'm fine," he says, tearing his eyes away from the head of black waves that's his older brother only to find that James has looked over his shoulder before turning the corner.

The eye contact still makes him want to keel over, but he'll be damned if he lets it show.

Notes:

I just wanted to say that my favourite thing about these two is the difference between how they're perceived by the other and their inner thoughts.

James: Regulus is just so unbothered.

Regulus: asjfldsjfhlsdjhguailufhdliusdhf James was shirtless someone help me ahsidajshlifucahiludhsihuads

They're so precious. I love them.