Chapter 22: The Come & Go Room
Notes:
Hello hello!!
We continue on with the angst, except there's proper comfort in this chapter too, so it balances out :)
We also get a little rosekiller in this one 3
TWs for this chapter below:
Sexual content (as always it's not explicit, but there's a relatively long-ish sex scene in this chapter)
Smoking
Mentions of homophobia
Mentions of child abuse / torture (magical)
Spiders - WARNING if you're afraid of spiders maybe skip the last bit? I'll add a note at the end in case you want to know what the spider thing is about.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The kitchens are the last place James expected to find Regulus, but alas. He's here and he looks surprisingly at home. James kind of bursts in then freezes, watching Regulus sip a steaming drink from a mug watching the flames in the fireplace in silence.
The house elves go into uproar when James arrives, so Regulus is alerted to his presence almost immediately. He turns on his chair and goes completely white when he sees James. Not the reaction one wants to evoke in the person they're seeing, but alright.
The house elves surround James, jumping up and down in excitement and talking all at once. It's loud, and James loves it. They're chaotic in their eagerness to help, and James finds it adorable. He loves house elves. They're his kind of people. Obnoxious, loud, full of joy.
"Mister Potter!"
"Are you hungry?"
"We has some nice buns! The sticky ones you likes!"
James smiles, crouches so he's face to face with them. He has to wait for a moment for them to calm down enough that he can speak. "Thank you, everyone. Very kind. But I just had to bring Black an important message, then I'll be on my way. I'll come visit soon."
"Bring Mister Lupin! We have some Welsh pastry! We makes sweet bread rolls for him, too."
James chuckles, but he's nodding enthusiastically and the elves are smiling at him. "We'll all come down, alright? All four of us. Soon, I promise."
There's a chorus of cheers that makes James beam at the elves with warmth. They're so nice to them. Honestly. James and his friends would have gone hungry on more than one detention if not for their generosity.
Regulus is rising from his chair, the mug with his hot drink abandoned. A house elf James doesn't know the name of tugs at his robes, and Regulus bends forward to talk to him. James can't hear them, but it's clear from their interaction that they know each other. James barely catches the words they're exchanging. They sound like instructions.
After a few moments, Regulus stands and nods towards the exit. "I know a place we can talk."
As soon as they're out of the kitchens, Regulus whirls on his feet and points an accusing finger at James. "How the fuck do you always find me?"
He should have anticipated this. He really should have. Regulus is smart, and James is not subtle. It's just not in his personality. But he cannot tell him about the map, can he? It's not just his secret. It's everyone's.
"I have my ways," James says, trying his best to sound mysterious and sexy. It only works partially, because Regulus' eyes are still narrowed but he's now blushing a little. "You said you knew where we could go? Or do we go back to the mirror?"
Regulus scoffs dramatically, then looks James straight in the eye. "I will not ruin my trousers by kneeling on the dirt."
Reasonable, James thinks. Regulus has a fantastic sense of fashion. His clothes are all very expensive, too. James is nodding absent-mindedly, considering options. "Well, where do you think we—"
Wait. Kneeling?
James proceeds to catch on fire. Literally. He's sweating. Everywhere. Did Regulus just say that? With the meaning… no. It can't be. James needs to get his mind out of the gutter, because there's no way… Why is Regulus looking at him that way?
Godric Gryffindor's sword at the bottom of the lake.
Regulus meant what he meant.
James is unwell.
The smirk on Regulus' mouth is making it all worse. Or better. As in, James can't compute. His brain has evacuated the premises for the foreseeable future. But his body? Oh Merlin's beard, he's a fraction of a second away from abandoning all caution and climbing Regulus like a tree right here.
Fortunately for them both, Regulus has not lost his mind, and is capable of rational thought. "Wait for five minutes, then meet me on the seventh floor," Regulus gives him some further instructions that James barely processes because his blood is currently marching steadily south, and south only.
The walk to the seventh floor is a haze. James is on autopilot, not even commanding his feet to walk. They're doing it of their own accord which is fortunate because James wants to arrive as quickly as possible. He's vibrating with anticipation. He also, somewhere in the back of his mind, can't believe it was Regulus that decided it was time for them to move forward, but James is extremely on board with this. Honestly, Regulus could pretty much do anything to James and he'd thank him for it.
James finds Regulus standing outside a rather boring looking door. If he wasn't so painfully aroused, James would be startled by the fact that this isn't on his map. But that's for later. Right now, he can only think of one thing.
Kneeling.
Fuck. James can't take it anymore. He reaches for Regulus, grabs him by his shirt, and pulls him roughly into him.
They crash through the door kissing like they're waging war. It closes behind them, and it hits James with the force of a typhoon that they're in a private space that's not in danger of caving in for the first time. No more cold and dangerous roofs. No more humid, uncomfortable patches of dirt.
He's crushing Regulus to him with force, but the other boy isn't complaining. No. He's giving as hard as he's taking, kissing James with fervour. James thinks this is the best kiss he's ever had in his life. And the fact that they're in a private, safe place?
Groaning with anticipation, James opens his eyes to get a quick sense of his surroundings so he knows where to go, what to do next. He glances about best as he can, because he's still kissing Regulus like he wants to devour him. Which, coincidentally, he does. Details.
And then he's so surprised his mouth goes slack, interrupting the kissing, and Regulus protests.
"James. What the…"
Regulus' eyes open, too, and he stumbles away from James. Not far, just enough that he can turn and look at the room they're in.
"Are we in the Quidditch changing rooms?" James asks him, confused. He gets no answer, which is mildly concerning so he strides forward to check on Regulus. And finds him crimson from head to toe. Lovely. Beautiful. But why is he blushing so hard?
"Reg?"
Regulus blinks. Swallows. Takes a breath. "This… ehm. The house elves call it the Come and Go room. Tappy told me I just had to think of what I wanted, and it would do it for me. It's a magical room. Also, so long as we're in it, no one can find it."
James' confusion is only mounting. As in, this makes sense, in a way. It explains why it's not in the map, either. If it's a magical place and ever-changing, James is ready to bet his right arm it's unplottable. And it's quite handy, a room that gives you what you ask of it. What you need or what you want. It is, in fact, brilliant.
But why are they in the Quidditch—
Ooooh.
And here James thought he was the naughty one of the two.
"What did you ask the room for?" James asks, a small smile creeping onto his face.
Regulus shoots daggers at him from those beautiful green eyes. "Don't," he says it sharply, with bite, but James can see the embarrassment because it's currently overpowering Regulus' very good poker face.
"Oh, I so am," James teases, beaming. He feels euphoric. "I knew you were staring that day. I knew it! It's okay, love, I almost fainted when I saw you. Had half a mind to try and flirt with you just to see what would happen."
Regulus is fighting himself. James can see it. He's mortified that his fantasy is so plainly on display for James to see. But James doesn't want him to be uncomfortable about it because it's working for him. And Regulus is allowed and entitled to his fantasies, whatever they are. Honestly, if he could see inside James' head, he'd realise this is pretty fucking mild.
"Get out. I'll ask for something else," Regulus says calmly despite the violent shade of red coating his entire upper body.
"Absolutely not," James says firmly. Then, he takes off the jumper he's wearing in one quick motion. His t-shirt rides up his torso, then falls down when he throws the jumper on a bench.
Regulus isn't breathing. He's staring. All his attention on James. James feels like the king of the world. "Reg?"
His green eyes flit up to meet James' hazel ones.
"What do you want?" James asks him softly.
Regulus isn't very good with words. He never has been. This is okay with James. He's learning to read Regulus' language. His body. His hands. The expressions in his eyes. But best of all are his kisses. When he doesn't know how to say what he wants, he simply goes for it. James is a big fan of the approach.
They're kissing now, less aggressively than when they crashed into the room but definitely with vigour. James wants to take over, dominate the situation, make sure he's doing everything he can to take Regulus apart and put him back together. But he doesn't. He needs to listen.
So, he does.
Regulus' hands fly to the hem of his t-shirt. Hesitate. James closes his own hands over Regulus' and does a little upwards motion. It's okay. Do what you want. Regulus does. And then James is shirtless and Regulus is stepping back to look at him.
James has never felt self conscious before, but now he does. Is he enough? Does Regulus like what he sees? He must, right? He wouldn't have thought of the Quidditch changing room if he didn't. But well. Regulus is so elegant and beautiful. So well put together. And James is… not. James is raw power. Muscles that are sometimes too big, too in your face. There's no grace to James' lines and ridges.
"Fuck," Regulus says, then he's attacking James' body with his mouth. He kisses his collarbones, biting a little and making James groan.
Regulus works his way down, licking and nibbling and kissing. James has to brace against the lockers behind him to keep steady, because he doesn't think anyone has ever shown his body this level of dedication before.
Then, Regulus is on his knees, and his fingers are tugging at James' trousers.
"Reg," James chokes out. "You don't have to. As in. If you want to, yes. But. We don't have to do anything."
Regulus rolls his eyes, pops open the button. "Shut up, James."
"You're…" James' eyes bulge, because Regulus just grabbed him through his underwear, and it'll be a miracle if he lasts long enough for them to do anything else.
Regulus stops. Looks up at him through long, dark eyelashes. Hesitation crosses his face. "Do you not want it?"
James drops down and crouches in front of him so abruptly Regulus blinks, a little disoriented. James cradles his face. "I want it so bad I'm about to come in my pants like a novice just from thinking about it," he says earnestly. "But also, I wanted to do it first. To you."
"Oh," Regulus says, eyes very wide, pupils blown.
And James just. Regulus Black, everybody. Having James wrapped around his little finger is still not enough for him to just assume that James wants him as bad as he apparently wants James. That he'd want to do something for him to just feel good.
"Come here," James says, pulling Regulus closer.Then they're kissing again, on their knees, the both of them. James tugs at Regulus' robes and he slides out of them easily. His shirt is another matter, because it has so many fucking buttons. A crime, honestly. James is this close to just ripping them all. But Regulus would kill him, and James refuses to die without having had sex with Regulus.
The blasted shirt eventually does fall off, and James feels the breath be punched out of his lungs at the sight of him. He's even more gorgeous than he remembered. Like his brain wasn't powerful enough to hold the picture of Regulus Black in all its glory and so he's been fantasizing about a half-baked version.
"Fuck, Reg," James says, running his fingers down Regulus' chest and marvelling at the little goosebumps he leaves in his wake. "You're killing me."
Regulus hums, kisses James' neck. "Yes?"
"You're so beautiful," James pants. "So beautiful."
James chases Regulus' mouth, kissing him again. Their hands explore, skin on skin. James worries his calluses might be off putting, but Regulus isn't complaining. Not even a little bit. They get out of their trousers, which ends up with them on their feet again, pressed against each other, kissing and touching.
"Alright," James says when they break for some air, because unfortunately one still needs oxygen even if they'd rather they didn't. "I really want to do this. Are you still…?"
"Yes," Regulus says immediately. "Yes."
They both glance down at the same time, and James realises they have to decide who goes first. He swallows, drags his eyes back up to Regulus' face.
"Did you…" James clears his throat. "Showers. I… ehm… Can we?" James gestures with his head towards the showers, and Regulus blushes violently again, but he's nodding, biting his lower lip and honestly James doesn't need more than that.
He picks Regulus up with ease, next time his brain connects they're against the tiles, warm water raining over them. And this. James thinks this is a fantastic setting for his first time with Regulus, because as far as he's concerned, oral sex is sex. So, this is their first time and James wants it to be amazing. Special. All the things.
James puts Regulus down gently, then drops to his knees before the other boy can fight him for the honour of going first.
Regulus is never going to be able to get ready for a Quidditch match without getting hard again. Ever. Just not possible. Because Salazar Slytherin have mercy on him, the things James did to him in that shower.
And the things Regulus did to him afterwards, too.
He can't decide which he likes more, the giving or the receiving. Because they're both amazing. Regulus is a little obsessed with it, now. It's a good thing Tappy told him about this room, even if it betrayed him spectacularly. Had he known it was going to take his intrusive thoughts literally he'd been a lot more careful. But James doesn't seem to mind. If anything, James seemed thrilled about the whole Quidditch changing room situation.
"You okay?" James asks gently.
Regulus moves closer, taking advantage of the heat of James' body next to his. His brain screams at him that this is a new height of pathetic. They're snuggling, which isn't something Regulus ever thought he'd do. He's not just doing it, either. He's enjoying it. Honestly, how the mighty fall.
He'll kill James if he ever says this out loud or attempts to make it a thing in any way, shape or form. But okay. So long as they don't acknowledge it, Regulus can enjoy cuddles with James. Because he's warm, and soft in all the right places, and hard enough to support Regulus' weight.
"Reg?" James asks, his fingers playing with Regulus' curls.
Regulus sighs. "Stop ruining this with words."
A chuckle makes his cheek bounce lightly against James' chest, and Regulus scowls even though James can't see his face. They're still half-naked, but Regulus likes it. James, in all his sculpted, perfect glory, just for him. He runs a finger over James' abs, watching it dip in the hard indents between squares of muscle. Regulus thinks James' body is a perfect study in male anatomy. He's obsessed with it, and still a little shocked that it's his.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ruin this with words, like you say," James tells him. "Because there's a reason I came looking for you. And you know it. Is that why you distracted me?"
"What? You think I only wanted to distract you?" Regulus is aghast.
But James, sweet, adorable James hurries to explain, words tumbling from his mouth in a mad rush. "No. No. I know that's not… you wanted this, right? Independent of what happened," James says. "But I meant to talk to you first, and that didn't happen, which is fine. More than fine. Amazing, actually. But now, now, I need to talk to you about it."
Regulus tenses and begins to peel himself away from James only to find James' arm sliding over his back and keeping him where he is. Pressed against James, bodies tangled, skin touching skin. To his dismay, Regulus is unable to fight him. Who would pick the biting cold when James' heat is right there, being offered to him like that was the intended purpose all along?
"Let's try it this way," James says when Regulus settles back.
"Try what?"
"A hard conversation," James replies. "Might be easier if we can still feel each other."
Regulus sighs, which he knows James' feels as a draft of air over his chest and stomach. He'd really rather not. It's the first time they're together since Regulus was informed that they're together. Like, officially. He doesn't want it to be ruined with talk of his asshole of a brother.
But James loves that asshole, for some reason. And he won't allow himself to fully relax until he's asked Regulus his questions. So, only for the sake of James' peace of mind, Regulus gives a tiny nod and waits, dread pooling in his stomach.
"Sirius was a bit of a mess when we found him," James says. And this was not what Regulus was expecting at all. What right does Sirius have to be upset when he was the one being unreasonable and bigoted?
Regulus scoffs. "Did he tell you what he said?"
James swallows, adjusts his body a little so he can bring Regulus closer still. Like he wants them to merge together into one. Regulus wouldn't mind it all that much. "He said he picked a fight with you," James explains quietly. "He felt pretty shitty about it."
"He should."
"Reg. Are you okay?" James asks him.
Regulus has to pull away then. Abruptly, and quickly. He stands with his back to James, who hasn't had time to react and is still on the floor amongst the towels and clothes they gathered to make a little nest.
Regulus' throat is tight, and he's struggling to breathe. Because James… are you okay? James came after him to make sure he was alright? Not to tell him off for upsetting Sirius. Not to yell at him for having a fight with his best friend. James came to the kitchens to check that Regulus was okay.
He doesn't know how to handle this. What is he supposed to do with this?
Things are happening inside of him. Rising like full moon tides, flooding every crevice of his body. It's overwhelming, and choking him, and he just. Regulus can't breathe. He doesn't want to, because he feels if he does, he'll make a sound that he can't take back.
"Regulus?" James is hovering behind him now. A furnace of gentleness and warmth at his back, seeping into him and making him want to cry.
Regulus will not cry. He will not.
"Regulus, I can't read you right now," James says softly. "Do you want me to go?"
No. He wants James right here, but Regulus' throat is swollen shut by the sheer number of emotions he's feeling right now. If Regulus didn't know it impossible, he'd think he's having an allergic reaction.
Swallowing thickly, Regulus tries his best to get a grip of himself. His shoulders are shaking, and he's losing the battle.
James steps away from him. The cold, the void, hits Regulus' back like a whip and he reacts. Blindly, purely on despair and instinct, he whirls and reaches for James. It's clumsy, and embarrassing, and all the things Regulus is not and doesn't want to ever be, but he can't help it.
His fingers slide over James' naked skin, searching for purchase, but there's none. He's smooth skin, muscle, nowhere to sink his fingers into. But James understands. He gets it, and closes the space between them quickly so that Regulus can press his face against his chest.
And then Regulus is sobbing.
"Hey," James mutters softly against the crown of Regulus' head. "It's okay. Let it out. You're safe here. I've got you."
Regulus hasn't cried in years. He didn't cry the day Sirius left. He didn't cry when his mother took it out on Regulus. Hasn't cried when he's been tortured so he knows what it feels like and can 'do it properly to those deserving' when the time comes. Regulus hasn't cried in a very long time, despite having reasons for it. Many.
How embarrassing, that the one thing that tips him over the edge is a three word question from his boyfriend.
He wants to stop. He can't stop.
Regulus sobs into James' chest because is he okay? He doesn't know. He thinks he is. He wants to be. He's the happiest he's ever been, because his friends are thriving, and he's dating James Freaking Potter. He literally just had sex with him.
Why is he crying?
Because it's overwhelming, for one. Regulus has too much inside, and it's crashing around, breaking down the cage of bones and jostling the dead, frozen thing inside of him until he feels it. Beating. Beating. Beating to a rhythm that Regulus can name.
James. James. James.
Like the sun, he came in and thawed the barren landscape inside Regulus' chest. Smiles. Warmth. Joy. Regulus should have known. He thought it early on—that James was a fucking furnace. And here they are. The tundra, the bones, the pain. The ice cold fury. They were no match for the sun made flesh. And now Regulus' heart beats for him. Only for him.
James. James. James.
It shouldn't be possible. It's too soon. They've been doing this for a month. Is that enough? Regulus doesn't know, but it is. Normal or not, it is. And when he thinks about it, which he is now because he's got no choice, a month is a long time when he remembers he only had five to begin with.
It's four now.
Not enough.
Regulus cries. He wants more. He wants it all. Revenge and happiness. And he can't have them. Not both. But his revenge makes him who he is. It's the fuel driving him forward. The reason he survived all that he did. And the people on his list? They don't deserve to be let off easy. He's not planning on wreaking havoc for fun.
Regulus reminds himself of the reasons. The plans. He clings to them with both hands, forcing the anger to the forefront. He can't give up. He won't. He'll get revenge. He always knew it would break him, and what's one more way? Regulus has survived unspeakable things. He'll survive this, too.
Through it all, James waits it out. He holds Regulus, caresses the back of his hair, whispers calming words. He has no idea what's going through Regulus' head. The things he's going to do. The people he's going to hurt. And Regulus can't tell him. Won't tell him. Because he wants this desperately.
Four months.
Regulus will make the most of them, in any way he can. Fuck school, and homework, and quidditch. If it were up to him, he'd spend every day for the rest of that time in this room with James. He can't, but he'll do his best to steal as many hours as possible. He's smart. He's stealthy. He'll find ways.
With a shuddering breath, Regulus pulls back and looks up at James. "Sorry," he croaks.
James' thumb wipes a tear off the crest of his cheek. "Never apologise. Not to me," James says softly. "It's okay to not be okay, Reg."
It's almost unbearable, the way James is looking at him. Regulus busies himself with wiping James' chest, which is wet and glistening with his tears. He's a fucking mess.
"Leave it. Doesn't matter," James says. He tugs Regulus' hand and then they're sitting on the bench, legs pressed together, side by side. "I won't push. But I'd like it if you talked to me. I want to help, Reg."
"It caught me off guard," Regulus says, choosing which of the things running through his head is less damning. "That Sirius would be so fucking prejudiced. I thought… he ran away. He couldn't be… but he is."
James hums, shifts in his seat. "He felt pretty shit about it," James informs Regulus. "Doesn't excuse what he said. But… Sirius is going through a bit of a rough time."
Regulus' eyebrows fly to his hairline. "Rough time." It comes out bitter, brittle. What could Sirius possibly be having a rough time about?
He's popular. He's cool. He walks around the school like he owns it. Girls swoon everywhere he goes. He scored ridiculously well in his OWLS and is predicted to smash his NEWTs. He's got friends. Good ones. He's a beater for the team that's going to win the Quidditch cup again, because let's be honest, everyone knows Gryffindor is going to flatten them all.
James sighs, and Regulus hears the hesitation in that one, shaky breath. "I can't tell you why. That's Sirius' business. But believe me, please? If I tell you he's not… he's not homophobic. Not… not in the way you think?"
"Oh, so he's homophobic in a different way? What a relief!"
James grimaces. "That didn't come out right. Look. I just. Whatever he said… Sirius has complicated feelings about us. But it's not because we're both blokes. It's because you're his brother. His little brother."
"Like he cares," Regulus scoffs.
James chuckles, rubs the back of his neck with a hand. "He does. He expressly forbade me from doing anything with you that wasn't kissing early on. He said, 'don't you dare touch my baby brother.'"
Regulus turns his face towards James, a dangerous smile hanging from his lips. "He did, did he?"
"What are you—oh," James stops talking as Regulus crawls over the bench and comes to sit on his lap, facing him. Straddling him.
Regulus buries his fingers in James' hair, forcing his head to tilt up. Regulus looks at him, at the exposed curve of his neck, the shape of his lips. His glasses, a little smudged and spotted with dried drops of water from earlier, because James didn't even think to take them off.
He leans forward to kiss him, but James' hands tighten on his waist. "Wait, Reg."
Reluctantly, he stops. He's inches away from James' face, but he stops. "Hmm?"
"I need to know you're okay. That you're not… using this to put your mind off things," James says.
Regulus reels back, indignant. He climbs off James and sneers at him. "Right," he says, aggressively. "So my boyfriend is now withholding sex to force me to talk? I didn't sign up for this."
Clothes are everywhere, tangled in each other. They make Regulus' dramatic exit more complicated than he wanted it to be, because he has to waste precious seconds fishing for his shirt. When he finds it, he stands up, triumphant, and promptly drops it again because James is on his feet, right next to him, and yanking him in for a searing kiss.
Honestly, Regulus is on board with this change of heart, but also, what the fuck? He's getting motion sickness from the wild swings in James' mood.
Breathless, Regulus says, "Blackmail is my thing. Don't do that again."
James presses his forehead against Regulus', hands cradling his face. "You did well. I'm sorry for pushing. You talked to me, and I'm happy you did because I know it's hard for you."
"It's fine," Regulus replies, chasing James' mouth. "So. Again?"
James beams like he's a child on Christmas morning. Regulus isn't sure what he's so absolutely ecstatic about, but it's brought him back to Regulus and is making his breathing irregular, so by all means. Carry on.
"If my boyfriend wants to go again, we go again. Whatever my boyfriend wants, he gets," James says the word boyfriend like it's the best idea ever proposed to him.
It strikes Regulus that for someone who'd already claimed this to Sirius, James sounds very winded and adorably excited about it. And maybe, maybe, Regulus jumped to conclusions from an off-handed comment by his brainless idiot of a brother.
Except, James seems to be thrilled with the idea. So. Regulus won't bring it up, just in case. They're boyfriends now, and that's what matters. Regulus would rather bite a brick than discuss this strange misunderstanding with James. They're both riding the wave, and that's it. End of story.
"Well, then," Regulus says, sliding his hands under James' arms to grab at his shoulder blades. He kisses James again. And again.
The last weekend of November bursts Regulus' bubble of secret happiness into a million pieces. Most specifically, the morning of the Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Regulus walks into his room after breakfast to find Edward Selwyn unpacking. They're alone in the room, because Barty and Evan are one hundred percent unbothered by Quidditch if it doesn't involve their house team and therefore have taken the opportunity to hide in an empty classroom and do unspeakable things.
Dorcas is with Marlene, who will go watch the game because James insists everyone in his team watches every single match. But it's not on for another hour or so, and thus the girls are also hiding but in Marlene's dorm up in Gryffindor tower.
Fuck. Dorcas.
Regulus quickly scans the bed's surroundings, relieved to notice that her things are safely by Regulus' bed. Well. Not relieved, exactly. This is a completely unacceptable turn of events that he'll have to remedy sooner rather than later. He doesn't want Dorcas back in her room—still housing rainbow-haired people, because the bitches haven't yet apologised to Dorcas. And he wants Selwyn here even less.
Barty and Evan aren't obvious about their relationship. They are very subtle and careful. To the untrained eye, they're just friends and nothing has changed. But Regulus, who's still struggling to sleep as is the bane of his existence, hears them slide into each other's beds in the middle of the night. During the day, he sometimes catches the brush of a hand, or a soft, private smile. They do enough hiding as is, and the one place they can be themselves is this room. They're comfortable here, with the two people they trust to keep their secret safe.
Selwyn is ruining their peaceful oasis and that just won't do.
"Black," Selwyn says coolly when he notices Regulus glaring at him. "Did you think I wouldn't come back?"
"One can hope," Regulus says.
Selwyn shrugs, then hangs his robes in his small closet. "Not that it's any of your business. But I was unwell and couldn't return straight away."
Regulus does notice that Selwyn looks considerably thinner and paler than he did when he was suspended early October. The boy is clearly waiting for Regulus to ask what ailed him, for some reason. As if his brush with death suddenly made him interesting. He should sit down to wait. It'll be a hard one to do standing.
"Listen," Selwyn says. "I don't know what I did, but can we just… We've been sharing a room for years. We should be friends."
"No."
"Oi, Black. What the fuck is your issue? I'm trying to be friendly," Selwyn says, looking rather wounded by Regulus' rejection.
"It's coming across as desperate," Regulus drawls. "Stop embarrassing yourself, Selwyn."
Keeping his face and movements neutral, Regulus grabs what he came for. Gloves, a scarf. A thick black cloak to don over his clothes. It's a Saturday so he's not required to wear uniform. It's also end of November, so it's absolutely freezing. Regulus plans to spend a good chunk of his day outdoors and needs to be prepared.
Checking his pocket watch, Regulus decides he has time to make a small detour. It might scar him for life, interrupting Barty and Evan, but it's better than them coming back to the room and getting caught by Selwyn. For the first time in his entire life, Regulus wishes they were anything but Slytherins. It seems prejudices run a lot deeper in his house than the others. Dorcas says Gryffindors genuinely don't care if you're gay. It's why she's spending so much time with them, because she can be more affectionate with Marlene when she's in their common room.
Regulus scowls at himself, appalled about this massive inconvenience. In all his distractions, he'd forgotten that Selwyn was supposed to come back. Because Regulus has been distracted. First and foremost, he's been wrapped up in James. His boyfriend. It's a thing now, a thing they say to each other, and smile about. At Regulus insistence that they had to see each other more, they've worked out a schedule that allows them to meet every other night. They go to the Come and Go Room and take turns asking the room what they want. It was James' suggestion, and Regulus—who was still mortified about the Quidditch changing room incident—agreed wholeheartedly.
Apparently, James likes to take Regulus to a variety of places that range from the downright deliciously naughty, including grandiose bathrooms with seven different pools or rooms with beds filled with water (tacky, but fun) to the absolutely wholesome and adorable, like a replica of James' bedroom at home.
Some of James' penchant for the risqué is rubbing off on Regulus, because his favourite is now to bring James to his room in Grimmauld place. The idea of how absolutely hysterical Walburga would get has them giggling together for hours at a time. And James, who is a heathen, likes to press Regulus up against the door of 'his room' and make him scream as loud as possible in his particular brand of 'fuck you' to the Black matriarch.
Regulus isn't complaining.
But James isn't the only thing keeping him busy. His Felix Felicis is still brewing and requires attention, not to mention the copious amounts of sleeping potion he's making regularly because he has to drink more of it than before. He's also still practicing his curses, keeping himself agile and fit. Quidditch practice happens, too, though he's a lot less concerned with this part. And, crucially, he's started to read up on the theory of legilimency and occlumency. It's a lot harder than Regulus would like it to be, and he has discovered that it's not something he practice on his own. This is a complication, but he already knows who can teach him.
He's still visiting Myrtle and discussing his theories with her. By this point, Regulus is almost one hundred percent certain that Tom Riddle is Voldemort. A parseltongue. Slytherin. Cunning enough to set Hagrid up to take the fall. He hasn't told her this, because this information holds power and Regulus isn't about to share it with the teenage ghost. But it's helpful to talk to her, because she can tap into the ghost network of the school.
"Nearly Headless Nick told me something interesting today about Tom Riddle," Myrtle told Regulus yesterday, sitting side by side with him on the floor of the bathroom.
"Huh?"
Smiling, Myrtle made a show of twirling her hair around a finger before replying. "He came back to school. Some years ago, when Dumbledore had just been made headmaster. He came to ask for a job."
Regulus had turned to face her, which had made Myrtle burst with joy, "A job?"
"To teach Defense Against the Dark Arts," Myrtle said solemnly. "Dumbledore turned him down. He made a fuss about it, said Nick. Stomped down the corridors for a while."
Regulus had filed this information away, because his gut told him it was important. He'd let Myrtle kiss his cheek again, then fled to keep researching.
Today, Regulus hopes to put an end to the investigation into what happened when Hagrid was expelled by stalking the man, using the Quidditch game and subsequent buzz as cover. After he warns Barty and Evan about Selwyn.
The room they're in was provided to his friends by Regulus. It's one he considered for his curse practice, but discarded because it was a bit too small. Still. It fulfils the requirements. It's been forgotten, fallen into disuse and difficult enough to find that a student won't accidentally run into it. Barty and Evan know to ward it when they're inside, but it was Regulus who taught them most of the warding spells they know, so he gets past them without difficulty.
Perhaps, he should have thought twice about this before barging in here unannounced. But also, Evan is a lot hotter than he gave him credit for. Regulus was not expecting that, and it is knowledge he most definitely didn't need to have about his friend.
The two thoughts collide in his brain as he walks in on his two best friends very obviously having sex. The kind of sex Regulus hasn't had yet, partly because he doesn't know how to ask James for it, partly because he doesn't know if James wants it. It's not like they need it. They do a lot of other stuff and it's all so good Regulus can't imagine ever getting tired of it. But he's curious. Terribly curious.
Over Evan's shoulder, Barty's head pops up, "Wanna join?"
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Evan asks, grabbing his robes and covering himself.
No need, because Regulus has very firmly turned sideways and has his eyes trained on a dark spot on the wall. He can't unsee what he's already seen, but he also doesn't need any more.
Evan rolls his eyes. "Really, Barty? He walks in on this and that's your reaction?"
"Well, it's about the only reaction, right?" Barty grins, then looks at Reg again. "You knew where we were and what we were doing. So, who has died?"
Regulus rubs two fingers against his temples. "I came to warn you," Regulus says, still fixating on the dark spot. "Selwyn is back."
"Oh fuck," Evan says.
"We need to get rid of him," Barty adds. Regulus risks a quick glance and notices they're standing side by side, and Barty has tied a scarf over his waist.
Regulus agrees. For once, he might let Barty's unhinged side take over and run with it. Regulus is smart enough to cover his tracks and protect his friend. "Yes, actually. If we can think of a good enough plan. I don't want Dorcas back in the dorm with those imbeciles, and Selwyn is an inconvenience."
"For us," Evan says, tilting his head. "You shouldn't care."
Barty smiles at Regulus, a shared look of understanding passing between them. "He cares about us. That's why."
"I don't," Regulus says, because it's what's expected.
Evan smiles, too. "You know I know, right?"
Regulus doesn't react. Neutral mask. Keep it cool. "Know what?"
There is no way they know about James. He's been so careful. Too careful, to the point where sometimes he doesn't even touch the inside of his arm if he thinks it's too obvious, leaving James hanging. He hates it, but it must be done. For their safety. James is obvious enough for the both of them.
"Barty told me you kissed," Evan informs Regulus.
This surprises Regulus. He feels his eyes widen slightly, then slide to Barty. He shrugs. "He had a crisis about me not being truly into guys and I explained the whole thing," he says, gesturing towards Evan. "I didn't go through a gay panic for Evan to doubt me."
"Gay panic is accurate," Regulus says despite himself, a little smirk on his lips. He glances at Evan. "Full on freak out, believe it or not."
Evan laughs and throws his arm over Barty's shoulders. "Well. Just. Thanks, I guess? For kissing my boyfriend so he could figure out he wanted to be my boyfriend? That's so fucking weird, but also so on brand for Barty."
"I'm still here!" Barty protests.
"Yes," Regulus says, taking a step back. "And I'm going to go gauge my eyes out to try and forget I ever saw this."
Evan and Barty snigger. Barty smirks at Regulus, wiggles his eyebrows. "You should find yourself a dude, Reg. You're missing out."
Regulus is shaking his head as he closes the doors behind him, reinforcing the wards so nobody else ever accidentally sees what he did. The worst part? It has made Regulus even more curious. It's one thing to think about it in the abstract. Understanding the sort of theory of how that type of sex would work between him and another guy isn't the same as seeing—albeit accidentally and not really seeing—two people who do it. It's like suddenly, it's real. Something that Regulus could do, if James was up for it.
Questions assault him all the way to the pitch and beyond. He walks briskly to keep himself warm. The wind is biting, making the skin of his cheeks dry and a bit red. He has lost feeling on the tip of his nose. Regulus casts a warming spell around him and approaches Hagrid's hut. There's smoke coming out of the chimney. Through the window, he sees Hagrid move about, being domestic. It's a bit of an odd image, the huge man wearing an apron and being just so peaceful. Regulus rounds the hut and finds a large bush that looks acceptable. Huddling inside the thick cloak, he sits down and watches.
It's boring. Extremely boring. So, of course, Regulus turns the questions over in his head. How can he bring this up to James? He doesn't want to imply he's unhappy with their intimacy, because he is not. He cannot express how mind-boggling-ly, toe-curling-ly good it is.
But Regulus is very painfully conscious of the passing of time and what that means. He's got to do everything he wants to do now. Because he won't have James in under four months. Even if he survives the entire ordeal—highly unlikely—Regulus won't have James. And he only wants to do these things with James.
So. Time is of the essence and Regulus must find a way to build up the courage to tell his boyfriend he wants to fuck. It's that simple. It's also that complicated. Because Regulus hasn't gotten any better at using his words for this sort of thing. All his asks are body language. A kiss. A tug. A hand that goes and waits until James understands and nods. But that's the thing. James always nods.
His mind is running away with him, flashing memories of different times James nodded. It's not too bad, since he's literally freezing, and the heat helps. Except when Hagrid leaves his hut rather abruptly, it catches Regulus by surprise because quite frankly he had forgotten why he was here to begin with.
He jumps to his feet and hurries to follow the Game keeper into the forest. This is the first red flag that Regulus ignores. It is daytime, after all. And he has gone into the forest several times to gather potion ingredients. He's not a newbie.
Hagrid trudges through the forest like he's unbothered about the 'forbidden' part of the name. He's so loud Regulus gets second hand embarrassment from it. Honestly. The man makes more noise than a steamer train leaving a station.
It gets darker the further into the forest they get, which doesn't bother Regulus but means he's got to watch his step more carefully. This is how he spots a bunch of spiders running alongside him. Hm. Regulus doesn't mind spiders terribly, but he's also not a fan. Like, given the choice between spiders or no spiders, he goes no spiders every time. But these are small.
Ahead of him, Hagrid breaks through the foliage into a clearing and greets someone loudly. Regulus slows his approach, then climbs up a tree large enough to curve over the open space. It's a lot harder than he'd like, and he's pretty sure he's torn his trousers, but he's determined to find as much as he can about the Gamekeeper and solve the mystery of what happened when Myrtle died.
He crawls over the thickest tree branch and looks down, to where Hagrid is chatting animatedly with someone. Regulus proceeds to fit his whole fist in his mouth to muffle the horrified yelp that escapes him.
Not someone.
A spider.
A humongous spider.
Regulus' entire body breaks into hives. What the fuck is Hagrid doing? Salazar's cape on a pole. The man is a lunatic. He's just… casually having a chat with the biggest arthropod Regulus has ever seen. If he's not mistaken, that is an Acromantula right there. Its poison is a fantastic potions ingredient, but also, extremely expensive because it's almost impossible to get it. They are dangerous, these things.
The conversation is very inane, so Regulus tunes it out. Instead, he fits puzzle pieces together. Clearly, Hagrid has known this beast for a long time. They talk like they're old friends. So. Regulus is ready to bet this was the monster he was caught with. Except Acromantulas kill and eat their victims. There's no paralysis. They don't cause it.
Hagrid leaves as quickly as he came. He says goodbye to the largest spider, then trudges back through the forest. Regulus hesitates. He wants to know more. To confirm his suspicions. But also. Acromantulas. Big ones.
"Get down, little boy," a voice says. "Before my daughters and sons go up."
Regulus needs not be told twice. He drops down from the tree, using a spell to cushion his landing. His wand is in his hand, and he's ready for a fight. But first.
"In 1943, a student died in the castle. A girl. Hagrid was blamed for it," Regulus says. Straight to the point. No time to beat around the bush when there's an entire colony of Acromantulas watching him.
Regulus' hand wants to shake, but he doesn't let it. His grip on himself is ironclad. He is pleased to discover that despite becoming soft as a fucking marshmallow with James, he can still be this. Dangerous. Sharp. Master of his body. He says no to the fear taking over, and the fear listens. It stays there, in the back, alerting him to danger. But it doesn't make him weak. It doesn't overcome him.
"I suspect Hagrid is innocent," Regulus explains quickly. "And that he was set up. Is this true?"
The Acromantula hums. "It is true," it says.
Regulus lifts his chin. "I think I know who the real culprit was. But I need to figure out how he did it. If it wasn't you, was there another creature?"
The spiders become agitated all at once, and this in itself is a clue that Regulus files into his brain. Puzzle pieces.
"There was. It was born in the castle. I was brought. Raised by Hagrid," the large spider says. "I did not kill."
"What was it?" Regulus asks.
"We do not speak of it. It's our enemy, and we do not say its name."
"But it's still in the castle?"
"It is. I can sense it, sleeping, waiting to be called again by its master."
Regulus nods. He knows. He was right all along. Knows what the creature is. Why nobody caught Tom Riddle—Voldemort—when he opened the Chamber of Secrets. Tom Riddle, who is the heir of Slytherin but also, at least, a half blood because Regulus hasn't found him in any of the family trees of the sacred twenty-eight.
"What will we do with you, little boy?" the spider asks, clicking its pincers. "My sons and daughters are hungry."
Tensing, Regulus grips his wand a little tighter. "I will find the monster," he says. "And I will kill it. I'm not your enemy."
"That bears little weight here, in my lair."
Regulus raises his chin, proud. "I'm not afraid of you."
The spiders click, chitter. The noise makes the hairs at the back of Regulus' neck stand. It's disturbing. Terrifying. Regulus would like nothing more than to sprint away from here, but he knows better. Acromantulas are quick. He'd be caught, and that's dangerous. Regulus will either talk his way out of this one, or fight. If he's to fight, he'll do it facing his opponent.
"You're a fool, then. My daughters and sons are hungry. Aragog is hungry."
Who the fuck is Aragog?
"Surely, your daughters and sons would prefer that I kill the snake in the castle," Regulus says confidently.
A ripple goes through the spiders. Fear and awe. Curiosity. "Can you?" the large one asks.
"I'm the best wizard of my generation."
"That will not be enough," the spider replies. "And we're hungry."
Regulus wants to rolls his eyes. How many times is this spider going to tell him they're hungry? Like. He got it the first time, thank you.
The spiders click their pincers. There are eyes everywhere. It's unsettling. Cold sweat is running down Regulus' back despite the bite of the freezing cold. He waits, breathing calmly. To keep his focus, Regulus watches his breath puff into mist in front of his face.
It happens so fast there's not time to second guess. The spiders surge forward, closing in on Regulus, and he has a single moment to swing his wand over his head, muttering an incantation. The ring of fire burns blue, fuelled by the ice inside his veins. It pushes out, keeping him unharmed in the middle. The first two lines of spiders go up in flames, screaming. The rest of them skitter backwards as quickly as they came.
The big spider, their leader, cries in range and pain. "My sons! My daughters!"
Regulus fuels the flames, watching them rise. Blue and burning like the quiet rage inside of him. Standing tall, chin raised, Regulus says, "Let me pass."
He punctuates his words with a burst of magic that makes the flames flicker.
"Leave," the spider says. "You're banished from here. Don't come back. You are no friend to Acromantulas."
It's only when he's at the Forest's border, safe and sound, that Regulus bends over and dry heaves for a few minutes.
Notes:
Spoiler per the beginning notes should anyone need it. The spider thing is that Regulus meets Aragog in this chapter. So, lots of spiders. Big ones.
Also, how sexy is Regulus being a badass and facing down a humongous Acromantula? HELP I am unwell (I understand James' reactions to him so deeply)
This chapter was a bit sad for me because Regulus is so aware of the passing of time it's genuinely making me upset. And the fact that James is absolutely clueless? My man is out here thinking he's on for the long haul. He's got no idea what's coming and every time Regulus remembers it it breaks my heart :(
Barty being unhinged will never not be funny to me 3
I hope you enjoyed! Next chapter this weeked, probably Sunday :D
THANK YOU FOR COMMENTS AND KUDOS! I love you all so much 3