Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the northwest of Washington State, amongst the Olympic Peninsula, the small town of Forks lay hidden under a near-constant cover of rain and clouds. It was in this town of Forks, and its grotesquely omnipresent shade, that his older brother, Sirius, had escaped only a couple of years prior. Perhaps it was the gloom and its contrast with the sweltering weather of Phoenix that had attracted him. Or maybe, the fresh air and incessant rows of evergreens were a means of forgetting the suffocating heat of their hometown.

It was in this town that Regulus had exiled himself - an action of survival.
Truthfully, Regulus had loved Phoenix and its ever-sunny climate. He loved the golden sunsets and the backdrop of the desert mountains. He loved the freedom he had as a child in the city. But it was this freedom, and soon enough, lack thereof, which drove him to flee his hometown, to move over a thousand miles away to an unknown, and seemingly desolate town.

His phone buzzed as he landed, walking through the airport gates with his suitcase in hand.

“Regulus?” the caller asked.

“Sirius,” he exhaled, “I’ve just landed now. I’ve done it.”

He could finally breathe. The flight from Phoenix was only halfway there, but he had escaped. He would live once again with freedom, knowing his parents were hundreds of miles away.

Sirius sent a breathy laugh down the phone, and Regulus knew he could hear the smile behind the phone.

“Let me know when you have made it through the airport. I’m parked outside - you’ll be able to find me, don’t worry.”

The call ended, and Regulus made his way through security. Knowing his brother was waiting for him made things easier. The decision to leave his home was arduous, but inevitable.

His parents' voices still rang in his head, echoing in the moments of silence. He knew he no longer had to tread carefully as he once had in Grimmauld Place. Fear was his norm, and any falter in his stoic façade was deemed a weakness by Walburga. Almost like an omniscient force, his mother watched him with dissecting eyes. A misplaced fork was insolence, and a question asked at the wrong time was deemed insolent. Too loud a breath, acting too human, too alive - venom dripped from her words as she tried to force him into conformity. Shrill and relentless.
Sirius was the first to run, breaking free from the prison in which the house's walls confined them. Regulus, too young to leave, stayed. He believed it was a way to keep the peace and protect the shadow of his brother, carrying the burden in his brother’s honour. Soon enough, it became heavy. He was unable to continue in his parents’ shackles.

He wasn’t brave like Sirius. He was quiet. He didn’t burn with passion as did his older brother. Instead, he slipped away quietly, having no real idea of what awaited him in Forks.

It was raining in Port Angeles. Sirius was waiting for him with a burgundy beat-up Volvo. Cigarette in hand, he had his elbow leaning on the hood of the car, standing with his legs crossed, gazing off into the vast forests before him. Eventually, he turned to face Regulus, and his face beamed with a glow, out of character in the bleak weather.

Sounds of the ‘70s soon flooded the car. The interior was warm, and most importantly, dry. Sirius had helped load his luggage into the trunk. He only had a few bags. Most of his Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington, and so Regulus had pooled his resources to supplement a winter wardrobe. Nonetheless, all of his belongings fit into the car’s boot, besides the small carry-on containing books and remnants of his previous life.

Flicking the butt of his cigarette out of the window, Sirius turned his head to his younger brother for a short second.

“I’ve found you a car. It’s pretty good.”

Regulus furrowed his brows, suspicious. “What kind of car?”

“Don’t worry, Reggie. I know someone - a mechanic. He helped me fix up an old Rabbit. I thought it might be a good welcome home present,” Sirius chuckled, using air quotes.

Regulus rolled his eyes and muttered a quiet thanks.

“I thought it would be helpful. I don’t want you to feel reliant on me or play taxi every time you want to leave the house. I want you to be happy here, yeah? Plus, it’ll be handy when you go to college.”

A sigh escaped from the younger brother’s mouth. While he hadn’t exactly forgotten that he had enlisted in the town's community college, he pushed it to the side, trying to lessen his anxieties. The view out of the window soon became more interesting than conversations about his first day tomorrow. He couldn’t deny that the views were beautiful. The never-ending green of the trees, and the mossy trunks, crowded with ferns, which extended up onto the leafy canopies, fighting each other for the little sunlight the greying sky provided.

Eventually, the Volvo pulled into the drive of Sirius’s house - soon to be Regulus’ too. He lived in a small, two-bedroom house, which Regulus imagined he had used a lump sum of his remaining savings after fleeing Grimmauld Place. Parked outside on the street in front of the house was his new car - well, new to him at least. Sirius failed to mention the car’s age, only hinting at its “vintage” look.

It took only one trip from the car to Regulus’ new bedroom. The bay window, accompanied by an old wooden rocking chair, drew him in. The west bedroom faced out over the yard, which lay adjacent to the opening of the dense forest.

There was a matching wooden desk fitted in the window space, holding what seemed to be a second-hand (or, as Sirius would say, “vintage”) computer, with a couple of pen pots and scattered books.

“I hope you like it, Reggie. I know it’s only small, smaller than back at Grimmauld, but it's cosy too, I promise. You’ll have privacy too. And look, I hung some of our pictures up on your wall. Didn’t want it to be too bare. Wanted you to feel at home,” Sirius rambled.

Regulus turned to his brother and captured him in a tight hug. Sirius stumbled back, shocked at the sentiment, but smiled nonetheless.

“I’ll let you get settled in, yeah? Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Sirius left the room, and Regulus was alone. Shakily, he took a deep breath and began to unpack, thinking to himself that maybe things would be okay.

Chapter Text

Sleep didn’t come easily to Regulus that night, and only more evident as he stared at the darkening circles under his eyes. Signing, forehead in hand, he concealed the discolouration before heading downstairs.

Breakfast was a relatively boring affair - Sirius had already headed out, leaving a scrawled note on the kitchen counter.

You’ve got this, Reggie. Good Luck!! Text me if you need anything.
Love, Sirius

The hopes of good luck seemed futile, almost a waste of sentiment. Still, he gave a half-smile, then headed out of the house, locking up behind him, then ducked into the car and twisted the ignition. The engine sputtered and shook, the noise blurring with the steady assault of rain on the roof.

Forks Community College had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven, now fifty-eight, students. In such a small town, Regulus imagined that all of the students had grown up together, moving on from Forks High School into the subsequent college. In Phoenix, transitioning to a new school would be easy; with thousands in each year group, he could seamlessly slot himself into a new life. Here, every unfamiliar face would be noticed; nowhere to hide amongst a bustling student body.

He had confessed his dread to Sirius previously as they ate dinner last night, and received an annoyingly useless laugh in return, “Forks is dull, Reggie. Why do you think I moved here in the first place? Don’t worry, you’ll find your crowd, God knows I did.”

Regulus parked his car and began to follow the student body into the tall, brick building, shoulders hunched against the cold. As he made his way to the guidance office, he couldn’t help but think he had made a mistake. Sure, survival in Phoenix was hard, and he barely made it out alive. But here in Forks, it seemed survival would be another challenge within itself. Everyone seemed to belong - a feeling he had never had.

He was an outsider once before, a Black, a name that felt as though it never truly fit, no matter how tightly his parents had tried to force the name onto him, as though a means of binding him to the family name and so-called beliefs. “Toujours pur” or whatever that was supposed to mean. An outdated belief in purity, his parents and family clung to with the strength of their existence.

That’s when he saw him.

Leaning against the damp brick wall of the entrance, a handful of students hovered nearly, never getting too close, but laughing loudly, eager for his attention. Regulus didn’t realise he slowed his pace, watching the boy carefully. He was apart from them - an outsider - and as Regulus stared, it was as though his vision blurred around the edges, while the man remained defined.

His dark skin caught what little light filtered through the clouds. He wore rounded glasses which sat firmly on the bridge of his nose. His coiled hair lay perfectly, despite the slight drizzle, a clear contrast amongst the rest of the cohort, who were each drowning incrementally under the fine rain. The air seemed different around him. More alert.

Their eyes met, only briefly, and the oxygen in Regulus’s lungs momentarily halted.

Gold. Not hazel, nor brown, but gold, and bright enough to disorientate Regulus momentarily. He felt his heart in his throat and had an urge, running deep within him, to look away. And yet, he couldn’t. His feet refused to move, and the boy’s gaze was holding him down.

“Regulus? Right?” a blonde boy interrupted. His hair was clipped close to his head, a silver buzz that made his bright blue eyes appear even sharper under the harsh lighting. His jacket was a pale beige, worn soft at the seams, the fabric broken up with an assortment of stitched patches. Slung across his shoulder was a worn canvas tote, weighed heavy with books, papers, and the corner of what looked like a sketchpad, its contents jutting out haphazardly as if he never bothered to organise them.

“I’m Evan,” he continued, before Regulus could get a word in.

“Sirius mentioned his younger brother was moving into town; he’s in my Lit class and mentions you all the time, and I wanted to catch a glimpse for myself. Bit of a weird time to transfer colleges, being the middle of the semester and all,” he rambles on.

Regulus blinked, taken aback at the boy’s- Evan’s - forwardness.

Conversation didn’t tend to come so easily to him, and so Regulus murmured a polite acknowledgement, eyes flickering past Evan and back towards the door. The golden eyes were gone, though the impression remained. A slight frown crept onto his face, though Evan didn’t notice. He was still talking, filling up the space between them with words Regulus hardly caught.

The dark-haired boy mentioned his scheduled visit to the guidance counsellor, and the two made a beeline towards the door marked Front Office.

Regulus drew a steadying breath before knocking and pushing it open.

The office was smaller than he expected, though given the size of the school, perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised him. The walls were painted a muted sage, trimmed with oak skirting boards, and upon it hung a tired old clock that ticked unevenly. A scatter of plants softened the space, their leaves trailing from windowsills and spilling across storage cabinets, giving the room an oddly overgrown feel, as though the outside had crept it’s way in quietly.

Among the greenery sat a young woman with a tumble of red hair that frizzed faintly at the edges — the damp weather hadn’t been kind. She looked up from her computer screen, pushing her glasses higher on her nose and straightening her badge as though to remind herself of her role. Molly, it read.

“Can I help you, dear?”

“I’m Regulus Black,” he informed her.

Her smile widened, eyes squinting slightly. “Of course you are. Welcome to Forks Community College. I have your schedule here, and a map of the school.”

She went through Regulus’s classed quickly, pointing to the map, making rough markings around the numbers allocated to each room. Her smile never faltered, and she wished him well, hoping he would enjoy his time in Forks.

Now, back in his car, he turned the heat up and grabbed an old sweater he packed - just in case. The map stared back at him, begging to be memorised. The last thing Regulus needed was to have the creased paper stuck in front of his nose all day - he might as well scream from the rooftops that he was new.

His first class would be starting in no less than 15 minutes, and wanting to make a good impression, at least on his first day, he headed back towards the brick clusters. Searching for his room, he stopped as he found the door with a large black 3, painted on a white square, appearing as though it was a makeshift sign, waiting to be replaced.

History was his first class. A kind-looking man stood by the door, greeting each student as they walked through the threshold. He was short and stout, with wavy, greying hair. Upon his head sat a little patched cap, and a blazer to match. He greeted Regulus quietly and gave him a knowing look, as though she could feel the nerves radiating from him.

Regulus smiled in acknowledgement as he made his way into the lecture hall. The room was dark, with a long whiteboard and a blackboard towards the centre. It radiated the scent of chalk and aged, dusty books. He made his way towards the empty seat, and his breath hitched.

Fuck. It was him again.

He didn’t need to look to know he was being watched. Two golden eyes pressed into him from across the room — not hostile, but unbearably curious, as though trying to strip away every layer he’d built to protect himself. Regulus clenched his jaw, forcing his attention to the front. He gave his head the smallest shake, as if he could scatter the thought from his mind like dust.

Thankfully, the coursework here wasn’t foreign. He had read ahead on the plane, flipping through chapters on medieval Europe, the religious persecutions and massacres of the Crusades. The professor’s voice carried on about faith as a weapon, power as justification, holy wars waged in the name of righteousness. Regulus scribbled notes, though his pen stuttered whenever he felt that gaze again, heavier than the words on the page.

When he dared a glance, he was still watching. And for reasons Regulus couldn’t understand, he didn’t look away.

The minute the lecture was over, Regulus scrambled to gather his things and darted towards the door. Before he could make it past the professor’s desk, he was stopped dead in his tracks by him.
The man stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, posture casual yet too precise to be accidental. His bronzed eyes caught Regulus’s, and for a second, neither spoke. The noise of the departing class seemed to fade.

Then he inclined his head slightly, almost old-fashioned in the gesture.

“You’re Regulus Black,” he said — not asked, but stated, as though the name had been lodged in his mind long before today. His voice was low, measured, and carried an edge of curiosity he wasn’t bothering to disguise.

Regulus swallowed. “And you are?”

A smile tugged at the corners of the boy’s mouth. “James Potter.” He paused, holding his gaze. “I’ve been meaning to meet you.”

Chapter Text

Time seemed to stand still after his first meeting with James. Evan had met Regulus in the campus cafeteria after his first lecture - “Just want to make sure everything goes alright - yeah?”

The silver-haired boy could tell something was off, asking his new friend if everything was okay, but Regulus simply shook him off, redirecting conversations elsewhere.

Evan introduced him to his friends, though Regulus knew he wouldn’t remember their names the first time around. He made a mental note to put the effort in tomorrow. The last thing he wanted was to isolate himself in a new place, especially seeing as though there were only a handful of people he could actually get to know. It would be social suicide.

Evan’s friends laughed easily, tossing jokes back and forth, their voices rising above the cafeteria hum. Regulus smiled where he was meant to, nodding along, but his mind refused to stay present. James’s voice - low, deliberate - replayed in fragments, echoing as though it had been spoken far closer than it really had. I’ve been meaning to meet you. It wasn’t the kind of line someone forgot, not with the way James had said it, not with the steady weight of those gold-flecked eyes holding him in place. It didn’t sound casual, like the polite introduction of a stranger. It sounded as though James already knew him - had been waiting for him.

The others introduced themselves quickly, a blur of names Regulus half-caught. There was a sharp-eyed boy with restless energy who never seemed to stop moving his hands as he spoke, a girl with long, pale hair that contrasted with her gorgeous ebony skin. Beside her sat another girl, blonde-haired, quieter than the rest, but with a smile that reached her eyes whenever she joined in. Her name slipped past him entirely.

Regulus made a mental note to remember them tomorrow, to put in the effort. The last thing he wanted was to appear distant, to lock himself out of a group that had opened so quickly to include him. In a place this small, isolation wasn’t an option.

But no matter how warmly they welcomed him, his mind strayed. Every pause, every lull in conversation, was filled with the echo of James’s voice.

The drive home was equally challenging, almost skipping red lights, attempting to drown his thoughts with the maxed-out stereo. Muse’s I Belong to You began to play, and Regulus hummed along, finally pulling up against the curb outside of Sirius’s - no, his and Sirius’s house - and hoisted his bag over his shoulder, absent-mindedly locking his car with a quick click.

Sirius’s car was still not there, and so Regulus had the house to himself.

He headed towards the small shared bathroom and bolted the door behind him.

The burning sensation of the shower calmed him a little and helped him ground himself. The water droplets fell heavily on his back, matching the pattering of the rain on the window. For a while, he just stood there, letting the steam rise around him until the mirror was nothing but a fogged blur.

Regulus turned off the water, steam clinging to his skin as he wrapped a towel around his shoulders. The pipes rattled once before quieting, leaving the silence broken only by the steady hiss of rain against the window. He padded out into the hallway, water trailing behind him, when the sound of the front door creaking open made him stop short.

For a second, his stomach lurched.

“Reg?” The familiar voice cut through his panic. A moment later, Sirius’s boots thudded against the floorboards. He appeared in the hall, hair damp from the rain, leather jacket dripping on the entry rug. “Didn’t expect you to be home just yet.”

Relief came in a rush. Regulus forced himself to breathe. “My classes finished early. You okay?”

“Yeah, the weather just turned.” Sirius jerked his head toward the window by the front door. The rain had thickened into a downpour, Forks’ usual curtain of water. “They shut down the roads past La Push. It practically floods every other week this time of year. You’ll get used to it.”

Regulus wasn’t sure he ever would. The air here felt heavier somehow, dense with wet earth and moss. Even inside, the smell clung - damp wood, old stone, pine. Phoenix had been hot, dry, relentless; Forks pressed in from all sides.

“You okay?” Sirius’s tone softened, and for once it didn’t sound like a casual question. His sharp grey eyes studied Regulus with a furrowed brow, as if he could see straight through him.

Regulus hesitated, tugging the towel tighter around his shoulders. “Just tired.”

Sirius reached out, catching him lightly by the arm. His touch wasn’t rough, but insistent. “Or maybe you’re wound up tighter than Mum’s bloody china cabinet. Which is it?”

Regulus’s jaw tightened. The thought of Grimmauld made his stomach knot, but he refused to give Sirius the satisfaction of seeing it. “It doesn’t matter.”

Sirius studied him, grey eyes sharp in the dim light. For a moment, Regulus thought he might push harder - but then his brother gave a sharp exhale and let go, raking a hand through his soaked hair. “Fine. Don’t tell me. Just… don’t shut me out, alright? Not here. Not in this place. You’ve already made it so far… this place is just different from Phoenix. You’ll get used to it, I promise.”

The words unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. “What’s so different about Forks?”

Sirius smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Oh, you’ll see. This town looks dead quiet, but it’s crawling with secrets. Always has been.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket, wringing water from the sleeves. “Case in point: I nearly hydroplaned into Potter on the way home. Idiot was tearing down Main Street like he owned the road.”

The name made Regulus’s chest tighten, though he forced his expression to remain indifferent. “Potter?”

“James bloody Potter.” Sirius grinned in spite of himself, shaking his head. “Haven’t seen him in a while, but some things never change. Still thinks the sun shines out of his - well, you get the picture. Golden boy with the golden car. You can spot him a mile off. Always keeps to himself, though.”

Regulus kept his eyes on the floorboards, hoping the heat rising in his cheeks wouldn’t betray him.

“Let me guess,” Sirius drawled, catching the shift in his silence. “You’ve already crossed paths.”

“Lecture,” Regulus said shortly, pretending to be busy, adjusting the towel.

“Of course,” Sirius said with mock gravity. “History, right? Potter always did love a good story. Especially if it gave him an excuse to hear himself talk.”

“He didn’t-” Regulus caught himself too late, words tripping before he could stop them.

Sirius’s grin widened. “Ah. So he did talk to you.”

Regulus pressed his lips together, refusing to rise to the bait.

Sirius tilted his head, suddenly serious again. “Just… watch yourself, Reg. The Potters are a different breed. James especially. He’s charming, sure, but there’s something -” He paused, searching for the word. “Something untouchable about him. Like, rules don’t apply. People fall under his spell, and half the time they don’t even realise it.”

Regulus’s mind conjured golden eyes, warm and unrelenting, fixed on him across the lecture hall. His heartbeat quickened, but he forced his voice into neutrality. “I can handle myself.”

Sirius studied him one last time before sighing. “You better. Forks has a way of chewing up people who think they can handle everything alone. I tried, and it certainly didn’t work.”

Regulus frowned. Sirius never spoke much about his life here, at least not in any detail. “But you’ve got friends now, don’t you?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Mm.” Sirius’s answer was noncommittal as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Well?” Regulus pressed. “Who are they?”

A crooked grin spread across Sirius’s face. “Eager to meet the local wildlife already, huh?”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “I’m serious.”

“No, I’m Sirius,” his brother shot back instantly, smirk widening. But then his tone softened. “Look, don’t worry about it. You’ve just got here. I’ll introduce you once you’ve found your footing, alright? No rush.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. Sirius rarely gave straight answers, but the evasiveness here felt deliberate.

“They’re good people,” Sirius added after a beat, as if sensing his doubt. “You’d probably get along with them, actually. But you’ve had enough new faces for one day.”

He slung the damp jacket over his shoulder and headed toward his room, calling back over his shoulder: “I’ll cook again tonight, yeah? And for the love of God, please wipe up that puddle before it warps the floor. Don’t want to lose my deposit.”

The door shut behind him with an easy thud, leaving Regulus in the hallway, dripping towel still clutched tight. Good people. It was the most Sirius had said about anyone here since he’d left home, and yet it told him nothing. He found himself lingering on it anyway. Sirius had always been reckless in choosing friends - brash, loyal to a fault - but also impossibly magnetic. Whoever they were, they must be the same.

Regulus crouched to swipe at the floor with the edge of his towel, the faint smell of rain and old wood rising as he did. Sirius might shrug it off, but now his curiosity had been sparked. If his brother thought he’d just let it go, he was mistaken.

The sun woke Regulus the following morning, a complete betrayal after the relentless rain the night before. By the time he reached campus, his stomach was knotted with a quiet, reluctant hope - ridiculous, really - but he found himself scanning the lecture hall all the same.

No golden eyes met his. No careless dark hair bent over notes at the front row. James Potter wasn’t there.

He tried not to show the sting of disappointment as he slid into a seat, opening his notebook with unnecessary precision.

“Looking for someone?” Peter’s voice broke his focus. He was perched sideways in his chair a few rows back, a mischievous smirk tugging at his mouth. Evan had reintroduced them both this morning (“This is Peter - remember?” he had asked. Regulus had obviously pretended, but made the extra effort today to actually remember.)

Regulus raised a brow, cool as he could manage. “No.”

Peter ignored the answer. “It’s the weather,” he said easily, jerking his thumb toward the window where clouds were already forming again. “Whenever it breaks like this, Mr. and Mrs. Potter drag the whole lot of them out hiking. Family tradition or something.”

Regulus frowned. The whole lot of them?

Barty, slouched in his chair beside Peter, gave a sharp laugh. “You don’t know who that means, do you?”

“Obviously not,” Regulus muttered.

Dorcas leaned over the desk in front, balancing her chin on her hand. “The Potters are practically a clan. James, obviously. Then Lily Evans - she’s practically married in, though not officially. Marlene McKinnon. And Alice and Frank Longbottom. Those two are an actual couple, but the rest -” she smirked, “single. If you’re curious.”

Barty rolled his eyes. “You forgot to mention they’re inseparable. If you get one, you get all of them. They don’t really do… half measures.”

Regulus only nodded faintly, though his pen had stilled on the page. Hiking, family, inseparable. Sirius had mentioned James before - always with a note of disdain - but never the others. Almost as if their existence wasn’t worth explaining, or perhaps as if Sirius preferred to keep them out of reach. Either way, the mystery of the Potters only deepened, pulling at him with the same unsettling persistence as James’s eyes the day before.

By the second week, Regulus had begun to find a rhythm. The lectures were manageable, if not exactly riveting, and Evan made sure he was never left drifting alone in the cafeteria. Dorcas and Barty argued about everything from professors’ quirks to the best late-night diners in town, Peter always had some offbeat joke at the ready, and though Regulus wasn’t sure if they were friends yet, it felt close enough.

Still, his thoughts had a way of pulling elsewhere. Whenever a door opened in the lecture hall, he half-expected golden eyes to meet his own. Whenever he passed through the rain-slick quad, he found himself searching the clusters of students for a mess of dark hair. But James Potter hadn’t returned since that first class. Weeks had passed without a single glimpse of him, and the absence only deepened the sharp, inexplicable pull Regulus felt.

By the time he dragged himself home one rainy evening, his bag heavy with reading, he expected nothing more than a shower and quiet. Instead, the low murmur of voices reached him from the living room.

Regulus wasn’t expecting anyone to be home. Sirius’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and the quiet of the little house suggested he’d have the evening to himself. He pushed the door open, already thinking of collapsing onto the sofa with a book.

But voices carried down the narrow hall. Low, even - Sirius’s laugh, followed by another he didn’t recognise.

When he stepped into the living room, he froze.

Someone was sitting across from Sirius, angled towards him as though they’d been in the middle of a private conversation. The stranger looked up, and Regulus found himself pinned by a gaze that was both kind and startlingly tired.

“Reg,” Sirius said, tone casual but with a note of warning. “This is Remus.”

The man rose politely, extending a hand. His skin was pale, the veins beneath faintly blue, and his grip was firm but careful - too careful, like he was afraid of breaking something fragile. His sandy hair was unkempt, flecked with premature grey at the temples, and his smile, though warm, seemed worn thin by years of use.

“Nice to meet you,” Remus said, voice soft, edged with something almost apologetic.

Regulus shook his hand and, despite himself, let his eyes flicker downward. Faint, jagged scars tracked the backs of his knuckles, disappearing beneath the rolled cuffs of his jumper. A longer one, pale and raised, curved along the side of his neck. He looked away quickly, hoping neither of them noticed.

Sirius, sprawled on the arm of the sofa, raised an eyebrow. “Remus and I… go back. He’s around sometimes. Hope that’s alright.”

Regulus nodded, trying to match the nonchalance. “Of course. It’s your place.”

“Still.” Remus smiled again, though this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not,” Sirius cut in before Regulus could reply. There was something in his tone - steady, deliberate - that made Regulus bite back the questions rising on his tongue.

The three of them sat in a silence that wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but taut. Regulus perched on the edge of the sofa, acutely aware of the way Remus’s presence seemed to fill the room. There was nothing outwardly threatening about him, and yet… something hummed under his skin, something unplaceable that made the hairs at the back of Regulus’s neck stand on end.

Sirius shot him a sidelong glance, one Regulus couldn’t decipher, and then pushed to his feet. “I’ll make tea. You two can… talk, if you want.”

And then he was gone, leaving Regulus alone with the stranger who smiled like he carried every secret in the world.

When Sirius ducked away to make tea, the silence stretched, heavy and taut. Remus was the one to break it.

“So,” he said, leaning back slightly, “you’ve just moved here? From Phoenix, wasn’t it?”

“Mm,” Regulus hummed, his tone clipped. “You’ve been here longer?”

“My whole life,” Remus said, almost sheepishly. “It suits me.”

The vague answer only sharpened the edge of Regulus’s irritation. “Funny. Sirius never mentioned you.”

For a moment, Remus’s lips twitched as though he might laugh. “He doesn’t mention a lot of things.”

Something about the frankness disarmed Regulus. He blinked, then huffed a small, reluctant laugh. “You don’t say.”

The tension loosened, if only a little. They slipped into easier chatter, and by the time Sirius returned, balancing three mugs, Regulus found himself smiling in spite of himself.

Remus leaned back into the worn armchair, his posture loose in a way that made Regulus oddly restless. “So. You’re studying history, yeah? Sirius said you’ve always had a thing for old books.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it a thing,” Regulus replied, tugging at the cuff of his sleeve. “It’s just… ordered. Makes sense. Cause, effect, pattern. People don’t change much, no matter what century you look at.”

“Bit bleak for a Wednesday afternoon,” Remus said with a crooked smile, but his tone was warm, not mocking. “But not untrue.”

Regulus tilted his head, wary but curious. “And what about you? What did you study? Or do you just… hang around Sirius all day?”

Remus actually laughed at that, a quiet sound, and Regulus was startled by how unguarded it was. “No, no. I read English. Literature, not language. Spent most of my life convincing myself I could live off poetry. I go to college on the reservation.”

“Poetry,” Regulus echoed, sceptical.

“Don’t look at me like that. Some of us are romantics.”

“Some of us are delusional,” Regulus countered before he could stop himself.

But Remus only grinned, a spark in his tired eyes. “Touché.”

The tension eased into something almost comfortable, a cautious rhythm. Remus asked about Phoenix, about the move, about whether Forks was as dreary as its reputation suggested. Regulus answered in clipped phrases at first, but the more Remus listened - actually listened - the easier it became to fill the silences.

By the time Sirius returned, balancing three mismatched mugs of tea, Regulus was leaning forward, one hand braced on his knee, caught halfway through a dry retelling of his first cafeteria lunch. To his surprise, Remus was laughing.

Sirius paused in the doorway, brow raised. “Well. Looks like you two are getting on.”

Regulus, startled, leaned back immediately, schooling his face back into neutrality. Remus only shot Sirius a sly look before taking his mug. “Told you,” he murmured.

Sirius saw him out, then lingered in the doorway of Regulus’s room afterwards. His hair was damp, curls clinging to his cheekbones, but his expression was unusually unreadable.

“So,” Sirius said carefully, “what did you think of him?”

Regulus shrugged, keeping his voice light. “Seems alright. Easy to talk to.”

Something flickered in Sirius’s eyes at that - relief, maybe, or something more guarded, something Regulus couldn’t quite place. He nodded once, as though the answer mattered more than Regulus realised, and muttered, “Good. That’s… good.”

And then he was gone, leaving Regulus with the strange certainty that there was far more beneath Sirius’s casual grin than he was ever allowed to see.

Chapter Text

The lecture hall buzzed with low chatter, the kind that blurred into a dull hum against the steady drizzle outside. Fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead, too harsh for the hour, and the smell of damp coats and paper filled the air. Regulus slid into his usual seat, third row left, and unpacked his notebook with precision. His pen hovered over the first line, though his mind wasn’t on the Crusades.

The door creaked open. He knew before he looked.

James Potter walked in as if he belonged to the room, all careless confidence and a sort of dishevelled grace that drew eyes without trying. Two weeks. Two weeks of silence, of empty corridors and unanswered questions, and now here he was. Regulus’s stomach tightened as his gaze flicked upward, just long enough to catch the change — those eyes. No longer molten gold but black. Dark, flat, unreadable.

James didn’t hesitate. He crossed the rows with measured strides and dropped into the empty seat beside him. As though it had always been meant for him.

“Morning,” James said, his voice infuriatingly even, warm like nothing had happened.

Regulus’s pen hovered over the page. He didn’t respond. The quiet between them grew heavy until James shifted slightly, turning toward him.

“You’re quieter than last time,” James tried, his tone light.

Regulus snapped his notebook shut and turned his head, cool and direct. “Where have you been?”

James blinked. “What?”

“Two weeks,” Regulus said evenly, voice low enough to keep the exchange private. “You said five words to me, then vanished. I’d like to know why.”

James’s smile faltered. “I—things came up.”

“That’s not an answer.”

James’s gaze flicked away, jaw tightening before he forced it loose again. “Family stuff. We go… out of town sometimes. It’s not really a big deal.”

Regulus studied him, searching his face for truth. James kept his expression carefully neutral, but it was too polished. Too quick.

“So you disappear without a word,” Regulus said finally, turning back to the front. He uncapped his pen, the click sharp in the thick silence. “Not a big deal.”

James exhaled, a breath caught somewhere between frustration and laughter. “You don’t make this easy, do you?”

Regulus’s pen scratched across the page in response, though he wasn’t really writing. “I don’t see why I should.”

But Regulus was done. He let the professor’s lecture take him instead, scribbling notes he knew he’d forget later. Still, James’s presence beside him was impossible to ignore — steady, intent, and unbearably near.

By the time class ended, Regulus had his bag slung over his shoulder before the final words left the professor’s mouth. He didn’t so much as glance at James as he pushed into the hallway, the tide of students carrying him forward.

The cafeteria was crowded, loud, alive with the clatter of trays and the hiss of coffee machines. Evan spotted him first, waving him over to the corner booth where Dorcas and Barty were already in the middle of some dramatic back-and-forth. Pandora leaned lazily against the wall, a straw pinched between her teeth, while Peter was halfway through a joke that earned more groans than laughs.

Regulus slid into the bench beside Evan, grateful for the cushion of noise, for their easy familiarity. Dorcas immediately roped him into the conversation, demanding he settle their argument about whether their history professor wore the same suit every day or had multiples of the same one. He let himself get pulled along, nodding at the right times, even laughing when Barty’s impression of the professor’s monotone droning grew exaggerated to the point of absurdity.

But then his eyes caught movement across the room.

There. James.

He sat at a table near the windows, separated from the main bustle. His group was small but close-knit, their arrangement almost deliberate. Lily Evans’s hair gleamed like fire in the dull cafeteria light; Marlene McKinnon leaned against the table’s edge, sharp-eyed and animated; Alice and Frank sat pressed together, their quiet presence grounding the group. They looked like they belonged together, a constellation all their own.

Yet James wasn’t with them. Not really.

Though his body angled toward Marlene and Lily, though his lips moved in conversation, his eyes — those black, watchful eyes — weren’t on them. They were on him.

Regulus’s stomach pulled tight, his pulse quickening despite himself. He dropped his gaze to his tray, pretending to be busy with unwrapping a napkin. But the weight of it didn’t ease.

“You’re staring,” Pandora said, her voice sly, lilting just enough to cut through the chatter at their booth.

Regulus blinked, heat creeping up his neck as he turned sharply to her. “I wasn’t.”

“Mmhm.” She smirked around her straw, eyes glittering with amusement. “If you say so.”

Barty leaned back, following Pandora’s gaze across the room. His laugh was sharp, edged with a little mischief. “Potter’s staring harder. He’s got that broody thing going on.”

Dorcas snorted, elbowing him. “Broody? Please. He’s practically burning holes into Reggie’s skull.”

The table erupted in laughter, Evan trying to soften the teasing with a quick, “Alright, alright, leave him be.”

Regulus forced a small smile, though his throat felt tight. He picked at the corner of his notebook, feigning nonchalance, but couldn’t stop himself from flicking one last glance across the cafeteria.

James was mid-conversation with Lily now, her laughter ringing across the room — but his eyes hadn’t moved.

Fixed. Steady. Black.

“So, who’s up for a hike?” Barty interrupted, leaning back in his chair.. “Rain or shine. And I mean literally - it rains here enough to make rivers out of puddles.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “As long as someone’s bringing snacks. I’m not surviving on trail mix alone.”

“I’ll drive,” Evan said, eyes flicking to Regulus. “You know the place, right?”

Regulus smirked faintly. “I know someone there,” he said lightly, letting the words hang. “In passing. Not a big deal.”

Peter snorted. “Someone famous? A ghost? Maybe a celebrity?”

Regulus shot him a pointed look. “Funny.”

The group laughed, settling into planning the route and debating whether the tide pools were worth visiting first. Regulus contributed sparingly, letting the conversation wash over him while keeping one eye on his tray, one on the cafeteria chaos. The room smelled of coffee, overcooked fries, and the faint tang of rain-dampened coats. It was crowded, loud, and alive - exactly the kind of environment he would normally avoid - but with them, it felt manageable, even pleasant.

Dorcas jabbed Barty with her elbow. “You always exaggerate the scenery. No one actually hikes two miles uphill in this weather without complaining.”

“Two miles? Please. That’s practically flat compared to my cross-country warm-up,” Barty smirked. “You’ll thank me when your legs burn tomorrow. Or maybe not.”

“Don’t scare him,” Pandora teased, leaning back against the wall. “He’s the new guy. Let him enjoy his fantasy of effortless athleticism.”

Regulus caught himself smiling, shaking his head at the easy camaraderie. His body leaned casually against the counter, yet there was a weight to his posture, a sense of observation that made Regulus’s stomach tighten. His eyes were black, intense, and unyielding.

Finally, he stood, tray in hand, and moved toward the salad bar. Crisp greens, cherry tomatoes, and shredded carrots lined the counter. He piled a bowl with careful precision, the sound of the tongs clinking against the bowl echoing slightly in his ears. He shifted slightly, brushing against the edge of an apple on the counter. It teetered, wobbling precariously, and before he could steady it, it toppled to the floor.

Without thinking, Regulus bent to pick it up, but before his fingers could close around it, James moved with inhuman speed, catching the apple mid-bounce between his hands.

“Careful,” James said, holding it up between them, a small smirk tugging at his lips. 

Regulus froze, blinking. “Uh… thanks.” His voice was a little breathless, though he tried to sound steady.

James tilted the apple slightly, testing Regulus’s reaction. “You’ve got a habit of dropping things?”

“Only when I’m distracted,” Regulus said dryly, a faint edge of irritation creeping in, though he couldn’t help the small flicker of amusement that danced across his features.

James leaned casually against the counter, watching him like he’d caught something precious. “La Push, huh?”

“How do you-,” Regulus questioned, turning the apple over in his hand before placing it carefully in his tray. “Yeah. La Push. We’re heading out there at the weekend. Don’t tell me you have something against it,” finally answered, noticing the way James’s nose scrunched in disdain at the name.

James’s eyes flicked up sharply, caught. He blinked, then shrugged, forcing casualness. “No, I’ve just never been.”

“I mean, you can come with if you’d like,” Regulus asked, drizzling dressing over his salad in an attempt to act nonchalant. 

James hesitated, glancing down at the toppings as if measuring his words. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I just… have things to take care of. Family. Stuff. You know how it is.”

Regulus arched a brow, feigning disbelief. “Family, huh? That’s the best you’ve got? Come on. I’ve heard vaguer excuses that made more sense.”

James’s mouth twitched, trying to mask a smirk. “You’re relentless.”

“And you’re evasive,” Regulus said, playful now, though his chest still thumped faster than it should have. “Clever pairing, really. Good combo.”

James’s eyes flicked away briefly before snapping back, catching Regulus’s gaze. Regulus tilted his head, silently noting the odd tension, the way James’s shoulders were squared but uncertain. 

“Okay, well, fine by me,” Regulus eventually dismissed, after what felt like hours, though in reality was only mere minutes, though a pang in his chest was hard for him to ignore.

He carried his tray toward a quieter corner table, careful to keep his expression neutral, though he couldn’t suppress the faint tug of a smile. Infuriating, maddeningly opaque, yet somehow undeniably endearing.

Even as he sat down with Evan and the others, his thoughts kept straying back. That flash of movement, the effortless catch, the black eyes that seemed to see more than he wanted. The awkwardness of the encounter, the teasing, the frustration, and the pull of something indefinable left him restless.

Dorcas nudged him as he began to pile lettuce on his plate. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m strategising,” he said lightly, forcing his attention on the salad. “Gotta pace myself. It’s a long hike tomorrow.”

Evan leaned in, grinning. “Or maybe you’re just distracted.”

Regulus gave him a pointed look, but didn’t elaborate. There was no need. He knew exactly what he was thinking about, and it wasn’t worth explaining - not yet, anyway.

From the corner of his eye, he could see James still lingering near the salad bar. Not approaching now, not speaking, just observing. The black eyes were patient, unblinking. A small part of him wanted to brush it off, to dismiss the intensity. Yet another part - one he refused to admit even to himself - wanted to see him closer, wanted to test the limits of this strange, magnetic pull.

He shook his head, focusing on his friends. Barty was grumbling about backpack logistics, Dorcas was teasing Peter over something unimportant, and Pandora was laughing at Evan’s exaggerated impression of a seagull on the coast. The laughter was easy, comforting, grounding.

Regulus let it wash over him, even as the memory of the apple hung in his mind - the way James’s hands had moved, fluid and precise, the slight smirk, the unspoken challenge behind those black eyes. Frustrating, maddening, and utterly compelling.

Saturday morning was, as expected, rainy. Sheets of grey swept across the sky, the kind of rain that blurred the edges of the world and left the forest smelling like wet pine and moss. Regulus pulled his jacket tighter around himself as he stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath his shoes. The others were already bustling about, checking backpacks, arguing over maps, and laughing despite the drizzle.

Evan waved him over, umbrella in one hand, coffee thermos in the other. “Come on, Reggie. Don’t let the rain slow you down.”

Barty was wrangling the cooler, muttering something about soggy sandwiches, while Dorcas was perched on the hood of the car, grinning like she owned the weather. Pandora leaned lazily against a tree, arms crossed, a faint smirk on her face. “If you’re slow, we’ll leave you behind.”

Regulus smirked faintly and fell into step with them, enjoying the warmth of camaraderie despite the chill soaking through his jacket. Conversation flitted around him like autumn leaves, light and easy, though his thoughts kept wandering.

Regulus followed reluctantly, taking in the sights of the Pacific Northwest coast—drizzle-laden ferns, salt tang on the wind, and the sound of waves hammering against the cliffs in the distance. He had been here once before, long ago, and the memory of someone else had flickered across his mind, but he pushed it aside. For now, he was here with his friends, and that was enough.

As they rounded a bend, a small, familiar voice called out from the upper bluff. “Hey!”

Regulus stopped short, squinting through the mist. Two figures were walking along the boardwalk above: one tall and lean, with glasses perched on his nose, and the other sturdier, with a relaxed, easy-going presence. Both waved.

“Remus?” Regulus said, surprised, recognising him immediately.

Remus’s eyes lit up in recognition, though a faint flicker of hesitation crossed his expression. “Regulus. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He looked different from the last time Regulus saw him; no longer did he wear an old knitted sweater, but instead had a leather bomber jacket layered over an oversized hoodie, cigarette in hand. 

“Yeah,” Regulus replied, stepping closer. “I’m… with some friends.” He gestured toward Evan and the group still clambering through the forest path.

The other boy, Grant - as Remus had introduced - gave a small nod in Regulus’s direction, offering a polite smile.

“So, you gonna introduce me or?” Remus joked. 

Regulus, in turn, pointed at each of his friends, carefully introducing their names. “That’s Evan, Barty, Dorcas, Peter, and Pandora,” he said, keeping his tone light, as though the exercise were mundane, though he felt the weight of each introduction pressing slightly against his nerves.

Pandora, of course, couldn’t resist. Quiet as a shadow, she crept up behind him just as he finished pointing at Peter. With a quick, sharp boo , she made him jump, sending a small puff of mist into the cold morning air.

“Pandora!” Regulus exclaimed, spinning around, heart racing despite himself.

She laughed, a high, teasing sound that bounced off the wet trees and damp ground. “Relax, I wouldn’t actually bite… much,” she quipped, wiggling her eyebrows.

Regulus crossed his arms, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Pandora only smirked. She glanced toward Remus, who had been watching silently from a few paces away, his expression a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “Oh, by the way,” she said casually, leaning on her elbow against a tree, “Regulus invited another friend along.” She let the pause hang, letting him lean in slightly before delivering the punchline. “James Potter. But he couldn’t come.”

Regulus’s stomach gave a quiet lurch. He felt the tug of curiosity and the faint pang of disappointment twist inside him. “Right,” he said lightly, brushing it off with a shrug that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Family obligations, probably. Or some other excuse.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, his head tilting slightly as he studied Regulus. “James Potter, huh?” His voice carried neither judgment nor surprise, only measured interest.

Remus’s friend, Grant, tried to hide an amused laugh. The three of them looked over, two quizzical looks, and one on edge. 

“The Potters don’t come here,” he said casually.

Regulus couldn’t help but linger on that line. The Potters don’t come here . What did that even mean?

He looked toward the forest path, then back at Remus, an unspoken question hanging in the air. “You coming up for a walk?” he asked, tilting his head.

Remus hesitated for a moment, glancing back at his friend. “Yeah, sure.” He followed, and the two of them set off along the winding trail that hugged the cliffs, the ocean pounding steadily below them. The rain had softened to mist now, the air damp but invigorating, scented with salt and pine.

For a while, neither spoke. Every so often, Remus glanced at him, as if weighing what to say next.

“So,” Regulus finally asked, breaking the silence, “why exactly… don’t the Potters go down to the beach?”

Remus’s lips twitched, half a smirk, half a grimace. “Old legends. Family rules. Something about… certain groups not mingling. The cold ones.” He let out a short laugh, light and teasing, like he was trying to dispel any tension. “Hoax, of course. Purely superstition. But, rules are rules.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Cold ones?”

Remus shrugged, glancing away toward the foggy horizon. “Old stories. Weren’t supposed to mix. You know how legends are—half-truths, mostly cautionary. I’m sure it’s just superstition. Honestly, it’s probably ridiculous.”

Regulus tilted his head, studying him. There was a hesitancy, a carefulness to his words, but something lingered behind his eyes. Something unspoken. He tried not to dwell on it too long. “Mm,” he said lightly. “Sounds like a good excuse.”

Remus’s lips twitched again, almost a smile. “Maybe. You never know, though. Some things… are better left unexplored.”

Regulus let the words hang, trying to push past the subtle unease. Instead, he focused on the walk—the rain-soaked trail, the scent of the sea, the distant cry of gulls. It was easy to get lost in the rhythm of the ocean below, the wind whipping the mist against their faces.

“You okay?” Remus asked finally, breaking another silence. There was genuine concern in his tone.

Regulus glanced at him, caught slightly off-guard. “Yeah. Just… adjusting. New place, new people.” He shrugged. “It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.”

Remus nodded knowingly. “I get it. Takes time.” He fell silent, then added with a slight teasing edge, “You and Sirius seem… well, you know. A bit complicated.”

Regulus tensed slightly but didn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah. Complicated.” He allowed the understatement to carry the weight of everything unspoken.

They walked on for a while, the conversation thinning, filled only with the ambient noise of wind and waves. The mist clung to their jackets, the damp air heavy but strangely invigorating. Regulus found himself studying Remus more openly now—the careful way he moved, the quiet attentiveness, the faint scars along his wrists and forearms that caught in the light.

“Those… scars,” Regulus asked after a pause, nodding subtly. “What happened?”

Remus glanced down, then back at him, voice casual but with a hint of something behind it. “Legends again. Accidents. Old habits. Nothing to worry about.”

Regulus arched an eyebrow. “Right. Of course.”

Remus gave a small shrug, his eyes glimmering with humour—or maybe mischief. “Not exactly polite to stare, you know.”

“Mm,” Regulus replied lightly, hiding his sudden awareness of the tension. “I wasn’t staring. Just… noticing.”

Remus chuckled softly, the sound blending with the roar of the ocean. “Fair enough. Just don’t take it personally if some things are better left unexplored.”

Regulus let the words sit. There was something in Remus’s tone, something layered—jokes, warnings, and perhaps even curiosity of his own. He tried to dismiss it, but the unease lingered, coiling in his chest alongside intrigue.

Eventually, the trail curved back toward the main path, and they found themselves slowing, the distant laughter of the others carrying over the mist.

“So,” Remus said lightly, “you’ve been adjusting to… life here, then?”

Regulus shrugged, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Trying. It’s… different. But manageable.” He glanced at Remus, noting the subtle way he seemed to search for approval, a faint tension in his posture. “You know, I might even survive Forks without getting hypothermia.”

Remus laughed quietly. “I’m sure you will. And who knows, maybe you’ll even enjoy it.”

Regulus allowed himself a faint smile, though there was still a flicker of wariness in his eyes. “Maybe. But only if I don’t get stuck next to someone evasive and infuriating.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, pretending not to notice the reference, though his faint smile betrayed him. “I’ll try to be careful, then. No promises.”

They fell into a companionable silence as the forest began to thin, the smell of salt and wet earth growing stronger. Regulus found himself observing the way Remus walked—precise, measured, yet relaxed—and couldn’t shake the sense that there was more beneath the surface than he was being told. Something lingering, unspoken, a faint pull of danger or secrecy.

By the time they reached the overlook above the beach, the others had already scattered, finding tide pools or exploring rock formations. Regulus lingered, looking out over the waves, side by side with Remus. The mist wrapped around them, isolating the two from the rest, giving the moment an unexpected intimacy.

“You’re quiet,” Remus said softly, glancing at him. “Thought you’d have more to say about the scenery.”

Regulus smirked faintly, letting the amusement edge his words. “I’ve got plenty to say. Just… not sure you’d believe half of it.”

Remus tilted his head, intrigued. “Try me.”

Regulus shook his head, letting the words die on his lips. He was curious about Remus, about the odd mix of humour, evasiveness, and something more dangerous behind his eyes—but he wasn’t ready to pry just yet.

For now, he let the mist and the pounding surf speak for themselves, walking alongside someone who was at once familiar and mysterious, leaving the questions to linger where they belonged.

Chapter Text

By the time Regulus had parked beside the curb of his house, the news of his visit to La Push had already reached Sirius.

His brother was leaning against the porch rail, a cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the damp air. His hair was damp from the drizzle, sticking to his temples, but he looked oddly pleased with himself, like he was waiting.

“You went to La Push,” Sirius said the moment Regulus slammed the car door shut. Not an accusation, more like amusement.

Regulus raised a brow, shouldering his bag. “And you know this how?”

“Small town,” Sirius replied, flicking the cigarette into a puddle where it hissed out. “People talk. Also, Remus texted me.”

“Of course he did.” Regulus climbed the steps, narrowing his eyes. “And what, you were sitting out here waiting to interrogate me about it?”

Sirius grinned, almost too quickly. “Not interrogate. Just curious.” He rocked back on his heels, hands buried in his jacket pockets. “So? How was it?”

“The beach was wet,” Regulus said dryly. “And cold. Just as you promised, this entire town would be.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant. How was Remus?”

There it was, too pointed, too obvious. Regulus blinked at him, a slow, incredulous smile tugging at his mouth. “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t,” Sirius said too fast, then added, “He’s my friend. Naturally, I want to know what my brother thinks of him.”

Regulus tilted his head, savoring the moment. “You mean to say you actually value my opinion now?”

That earned him a sharp laugh, though Sirius’s cheeks coloured faintly. “Don’t flatter yourself, Reggie. Just answer the damn question.”

Regulus set his bag down against the porch railing, crossing his arms. “He seemed fine. Polite. Smarter than most of the people you hang around with.” He paused, a spark of mischief lighting in his eyes. “You’re blushing, by the way.”

“I’m not.” Sirius’s tone was flat, but he dragged a hand over his face all the same, as though to cover it.

“You are,” Regulus pressed, delight flickering through his usual composure. “God, this is rich. Sirius Black, undone by a boy with scars and an old jumper.”

Sirius barked a laugh, though there was an edge to it. “Careful. You’ll make me regret introducing you at all.”

“You didn’t introduce us,” Regulus reminded him coolly. “He happened to be here when I came home - not my fault. Plus, he was the one who came up to me today”.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, whatever. Play nice, though, he’s special”

Regulus’s brows lifted. “Special how?”

His brother’s eyes flicked away, out toward the dripping trees. “Important,” he said at last, voice softer than before. “He’s important. You’ll see.”

The vagueness only sharpened Regulus’s curiosity. He leaned in, deliberately needling. “You sound like you’ve got a crush.”

That hit home. Sirius snorted, shoving at his shoulder, but not before Regulus caught the flicker in his eyes, not anger but something rawer, something that made him pull back quick.

“Get over yourself,” Sirius said, trying for breezy but not quite sticking the landing. “I’m just saying, Remus matters.”

“Now come on. I made pasta. And if you behave, I’ll even let you pick the TV show tonight.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but the image of Remus’s quiet smile lingered long after they disappeared into the kitchen.

The kitchen smelled faintly of garlic and herbs when Regulus trailed in after Sirius. A pot of pasta steamed on the stove, sauce bubbling quietly beside it. Sirius moved with a sort of careless grace, tossing noodles with a wooden spoon, humming faintly to himself like this was something he did every night.

Regulus slid into one of the mismatched chairs at the table, arms folded across his chest. “You actually cooked?”

“Of course,” Sirius said, feigning offence as he dumped pasta into a colander. “You think I survive on takeout alone?”

“I’ve seen your receipts,” Regulus muttered.

Sirius smirked over his shoulder. “That’s different. Pizza is a food group.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but the warmth of the kitchen, the hiss of water draining, the low hum of the radio Sirius had flicked on, softened something tight in his chest. He had not expected dinners like this, not when he had imagined moving in.

They ate without much ceremony, bowls balanced in their hands, Sirius propping his feet up on the chair across from him until Regulus kicked them off. Conversation flowed easily at first, meandering from professors to the state of Sirius’s clunky car.

It was not until Regulus had nearly finished his bowl that he leaned back, feigning casualness. “Remus mentioned something while we were at La Push.”

Sirius glanced up, fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Oh?”

“Something about old legends,” Regulus said slowly, watching his brother’s face. “The tribe has stories about… what did he call them… the cold ones. He laughed it off, said it was nonsense, but…” He trailed off deliberately.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, pushing his empty bowl aside with a scrape of ceramic. For a moment, he did not speak, just ran a hand through his damp hair. When he finally looked up, his expression was sharper than before.

“Wait,” he said slowly, “Remus told you about the cold ones?”

Regulus frowned, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. “He mentioned them, yes. Said it was an old legend. Tried to laugh it off.”

Sirius muttered something under his breath, too low to catch.

“They’re just stories, aren’t they? Ghost tales from the tribe. What difference does it make if I’ve heard them?”

Sirius did not answer immediately. He stood, carried his bowl to the sink, and rinsed it with mechanical precision. His back was rigid, shoulders tense in a way Regulus had not seen in years. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, stripped of its usual ease.

“Because not everyone here knows them. They’re not the kind of stories you find in tourist brochures. The Quileutes keep them close. Most people in Forks never hear a word. I don’t know anyone else - well, except for you, now - who knows…”

Regulus blinked, unsettled. “So why would Remus-”

“I don’t know.” Sirius cut him off, too quickly. He turned off the tap and braced his hands against the counter, head bowed. “I honestly don’t know why he would bring it up with you.”

Silence pressed in, heavy with the sound of rain hammering against the kitchen window. Regulus shifted in his chair, heart ticking faster. Sirius never looked rattled, not like this.

“They’re just stories,” Regulus repeated carefully, as if testing the words.

Sirius turned then, his eyes unreadable in the dim kitchen light. “Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter. The point is, you don’t go around asking about them. Not unless you want to stir up things you cannot put back down.”

The warning was clear, sharper than anything Sirius had said since Regulus had arrived in Forks. He meant it.

Regulus did not respond. He rose, carrying his bowl to the sink, brushing past his brother in the narrow kitchen. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him as he rinsed the plate, as though waiting for some sign of surrender.

But Regulus only dried his hands on a dish towel and said quietly, “I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

When Regulus finally headed down the hall toward his room, the rain still hammering outside, the words lingered like smoke in the kitchen air. Not everyone here knows. Not everyone is supposed to.

Regulus tried to sleep. He swore he did. Yet no matter how many times he shifted, how many times he fluffed the pillow or kicked the covers away, the closest he came was a restless haze that never settled into true rest. His mind circled endlessly around the same thoughts. The so-called stories Remus had let slip. Sirius’s reaction afterwards. The confusion that had flickered across his brother’s face, as if the problem had not been the legends themselves but the fact that Remus had told him at all.

The harder he tried to quiet his thoughts, the louder they seemed to grow. What did Sirius mean when he said not everyone was supposed to know? Why would a friend risk telling him something that was clearly not meant to be spoken aloud?

Eventually, exhaustion pulled him under, though not gently. Dreams came in fragments, disjointed and strange, the kind that felt heavy with meaning yet slipped away like water when he tried to hold them. Faces blurred in the shadows. A figure at the edge of a forest. The soft drag of the tide pulling at his feet. He could not tell what was a dream and what was reality.

At one point, though, he was sure. Certain, in fact. He swore he saw James. Not his whole form, only the eyes, hovering in the darkness of his room. Black and endless, watching him from the corner near the window.

His chest seized with a cold, sharp panic. He fumbled for the lamp at his bedside, knocking his copy of Wuthering Heights to the floor as he clicked it on. Light flooded the room, harsh and ordinary. The desk. The shelves. The rain-streaked window. Nothing more.

Regulus sat upright, breath loud in his ears. He searched every shadow, every corner, but the room was empty. Too empty. He sank back against the pillow eventually, though sleep no longer came.

By morning, he had half-convinced himself it had been nothing more than a dream, the product of too little rest and too many questions he was not meant to ask. Still, when he pulled the curtains aside, he could not help scanning the street below as though he expected to catch someone slipping away.

The library was quiet except for the muted shuffle of pages and the occasional cough from the reference desk. Regulus had stationed himself at a corner table with his book open, eyes skimming the same paragraph twice without quite taking it in. The rain tapping against the window did little to help his focus.

A chair scraped opposite him. James Potter dropped into the seat like he belonged there, his bag sliding off his shoulder and hitting the floor with a dull thud. His eyes were no longer black, but the same bronze as when they first met.

“Hey,” James said, leaning forward slightly. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

Regulus marked his page and closed the book with deliberate care. His gaze flicked up, sharp, assessing. “Did we?”

James gave a small huff, pushing his hair back in that restless way he always seemed to. “Well, yeah. I mean, I didn’t really give you much of a reason to… I don’t know. Think well of me.”

Regulus tilted his head, waiting. “And why, exactly, should we start over?”

James blinked, caught off guard. “Why?”

“Yes,” Regulus said, voice low, measured. “Come on, tell me why I should let you.”

James leaned back, visibly thrown, though his grin crept back after a beat. “Alright, fine. Because I didn’t mean to be rude. I swear I didn’t. I just…” He paused, raking a hand through his hair, his words catching. “It’s not easy to explain. Let’s just say I’d been waiting for you to show up. And when you did, I botched it.” His eyes held Regulus’s now, steady and unflinching. “And because I don’t want us at odds. I think we could actually get along. If you’d let us.”

Regulus tilted his head, lips twitching into the hint of a smile. “That’s quite the speech. You rehearsed it?”

James laughed, low and relieved. “Not exactly.”

“Good,” Regulus said, picking up his pen again with deliberate calm. “Then start over. And make it less dramatic this time.”

James stared back, unsure if Regulus meant what he said. Before he began to make another speech, Regulus rolled his eyes. 

“I’m kidding. I promise,” Regulus said, a faint edge of amusement curling through his tone. He rested his chin on his hand, studying him like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. “You talk too much.”

James’s brows shot up, then he laughed under his breath. “So what, that’s it? We just… start over?”

Regulus shrugged, that small, teasing smile still lingering. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Something flickered in James’s expression, a brief break in his easy confidence, before he nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I wanted.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the rain filling the space between words.

Regulus opened his book again, but his eyes didn’t move across the page. He could feel James’s gaze on him, steady, searching, as if waiting for the new beginning to actually begin.

James leaned forward, elbows braced on the desk, as if the act of leaning closer might coax Regulus open. “Alright, starting over. Why Forks? Out of everywhere you could’ve picked, why here?”

Regulus’s pen paused mid-note. He had expected small talk, something forgettable. Not this. Slowly, he capped the pen, turning just enough to meet James’s gaze. Those dark eyes were steady, watchful, like he was already sifting through possible answers before Regulus had even given one.

“It is a long story,” Regulus said finally, his tone clipped. “Not the kind you share with strangers.”

James grinned, unbothered. “I thought we were starting over. That makes us not strangers.”

Regulus huffed a laugh despite himself, sharp and quiet. “You are persistent, I will give you that.”

“Persistent is one word for it. Curious is another,” James countered easily. “You’re not like the others here. They fill silence with noise. You… don’t. You sit there like someone with whole chapters locked up in your head, and no one else gets to read them.”

Regulus arched a brow, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “So now I am a book to you?”

James tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Closed book. Hard to read. Which only makes me want to try.”

Regulus let the words hang between them, heavy with their own weight. He should have brushed them off, turned back to his notes, and ended the conversation before it edged into something strange. But instead, he found himself holding James’s gaze, something caught in the way he said it, in the calm certainty behind his voice.

“It is a long story,” Regulus said at last, his voice flat enough to sound like an ending.

James leaned in slightly, propping an elbow against the desk. “Good. I can keep up.”

The reply was too quick, too certain, as if he had been waiting for Regulus to say exactly that. Regulus’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking briefly to James before dropping back to his notes.

“You make it sound like you have some right to know,” he muttered.

“Not a right,” James corrected softly. “A hope.”

Regulus stilled at the choice of words. He did not answer, only tapped his pen against the margin of his page. The silence stretched, thick with things unsaid.

Regulus shifted in his seat, weighing how much to say. “It was not easy at home,” he said at last.

James leaned forward slightly. “Not easy how?”

A pause stretched. Regulus’s eyes stayed on his notebook. “My mother. My father. Cruel in their own ways.”

James’s tone softened. “That sounds… rough.”

Regulus gave the faintest shrug. “It was. I learned to keep quiet, keep out of the way. Eventually, I realised I did not have to stay.”

“So you left,” James said.

“Yes. As soon as I could. I packed what I had and moved north. Phoenix was not home anymore, if it ever was.”

James frowned thoughtfully. “And Forks of all places? You could have gone anywhere.”

Regulus allowed himself a dry smile. “My older brother, Sirius, moved out here a couple of years back. Left for the same reasons, but I was too young to go without causing more issues than necessary. It was worse, though, living with them without Sirius there. He was always louder, and protective over me. When he left, the scrutiny was on me. Only me.”

James looked as though he wanted to talk, but chose to let Regulus continue.

“They knew how far to push me, just enough before I would break. I still hear their voices in my head sometimes, y’know?”

James nodded, his face plastered with sympathy. Regulus chose to ignore his pity.

“That’s why I came to Forks. Sirius chose here because of how secluded it is. Our parents would never even think about us being here - a stark contrast from Phoenix. Plus, at this point, I doubt they’d care enough. They wanted to get under my skin while I was in the house, but it's been radio silence since I left. I just hope it keeps that way.”

“For your sake, I hope it does too.”

Soon enough, they fell into an easy conversation, and for a while, the world outside the library didn’t seem quite so heavy.

“You’re kidding, right?” James said, leaning against their shared desk with one elbow. “Green Day? Really? That’s… basic.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Basic but honest. Better than pretending to get Radiohead just because it’s ‘deep’.”

James blinked, a grin tugging at his lips. “Excuse me? Radiohead is classic. You’re just bitter.”

“Oh, I get it,” Regulus said, laughing softly. “You’re a poser. You stick your nose up at anything that’s easy to play at a party, but you’ll sit there pretending to understand OK Computer like it’s some revelation. Admit it, you cried during Kid A and called it profound.”

James feigned indignation, hand over his chest. “I am cultured. That’s not the point.”

Regulus shook his head, smirking wider. “Right. Cultured. Sure. You’re exactly the kind of guy who spends more time analysing the lyrics than actually feeling the music. Oh, and please, for the love of God, don’t tell me you’re the type to walk around campus, book in hand, wearing wired headphones, trying to look all deep and meaningful.”

James chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Shut up. And for your information, I keep the reading low-key and private.” He crossed his arms to his chest with a faux pout. “And by the way, you’re one to talk. The bands you like just scream rather than have a bit of soul. Simple really. I’m quite offended.”

“Simple, yes,” Regulus said with a shrug. “But honest. At least I don’t pretend to be tortured when I’m really just bored.”

James’s grin softened, and he shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” Regulus admitted, leaning back in his chair. “But at least I notice things. You’ll have to try harder than that to impress me.” Regulus pauses. “Speaking of - contacts then?”

James froze, mid-gesture, blinking at him. “Contacts?”

“Yeah,” Regulus said, tilting his head, playful but precise. “Your eyes. They’re like a golden hazel colour now. Two weeks ago, they were darker, more black.”

James’s lips twitched like he was fighting a grin. “It’s… nothing. Prescription.”

Regulus arched a brow, smirking. “Prescription, huh? Yeah, right. That’s believable.”

James shuffled his papers, avoiding Regulus’s gaze for a beat too long. 

“Again, I notice things. That’s all. So, you’ve got something to hide, or am I imagining it?”

James met his eyes, trying to play it cool but failing just enough for Regulus to catch it. “Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll have to guess.”

Regulus laughed, shaking his head, pushing his bag over one shoulder. “Guessing games, huh? Fine. I’ll play. But don’t think I won’t notice if you slip up.”

James grinned, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Fair enough. Keep me honest, then. I’ll see you soon?”

Regulus nodded, already heading toward the exit. “Yeah, I’m in on Friday.”

Even as he walked, Regulus felt the pull of those eyes — dark, unreadable, frustrating — and a flicker of curiosity that refused to let him go. Deep down, Regulus knew something wasn’t right.

Nightmares greeted him again that night. Flashes of wolves, shadows of the tribe’s stories still lingering, twisted through his mind, but this time, golden eyes pierced the darkness, interrupting the images. Regulus woke with a start, heart hammering against his ribs. He sat up, breathing ragged, and for a long moment, he just stared into the shadowed corners of his room.

Finally, he reached for his laptop, fingers trembling slightly. He typed in the words he had been unable to forget: the cold ones . The search results were a mix of conspiracy forums, obscure blogs, and fringe articles that felt as though they had been written by people convinced of half-truths. Each page added a small weight to his chest, a mixture of curiosity and unease.

It had taken far longer than he wanted, sifting through forums and half-forgotten blogs, scrolling past fan theories, urban legends, and conspiracy sites. Movies, obscure documentaries, strange role-playing threads, everything crowded the screen, each promising some insight, yet delivering little.

Finally, he stumbled on a site that seemed promising: The Codex of the Hidden . The page loaded slowly, a simple white background with neat black text. No flashing ads, no distractions. Only two quotes greeted him on the home page:

Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons, there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both. — Rev. Montague Summers 

If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires? — Rousseau

Regulus scrolled down to an alphabetised catalogue of myths, each entry detailing vampire legends from around the globe. The first, a Filipino tale of the Danag, described a spirit who had once cooperated with humans until one night a careless woman drew blood, and the creature, tasting it, drained her entirely.

He read methodically, searching for anything that might feel real, anything that hinted at truth beneath the exaggeration. Most of the myths were variations on a theme: seductive women preying on children, moral tales to explain untimely deaths, and warnings against improper burials. Very few resembled what he remembered hearing from Remus—less the romanticised versions in movies, more something older, darker.

Three entries finally stopped him cold. The Romanian Varacolaci , a pale and beautiful being of extraordinary power; the Slovak Nelapsi , so fast and strong it could annihilate a village in a single night; and, oddly enough, the Stregoni benefici .

About this last, there was almost nothing, only a single line:

Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to fight on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.

Regulus leaned back in his chair, letting the relief wash over him. Of hundreds of myths, only one hinted at hope. One story suggested that not every creature of the night was irredeemably malevolent. It was enough to make him feel… cautious optimism, a small spark that maybe, just maybe, some of these legends could be more than stories.

He closed his laptop, rubbing his eyes. There was still the matter of seeing the book in Port Angeles, the one the site had linked to. 

Regulus hesitated for a moment. The idea of leaving the safety of Forks, of venturing further into the unknown, made the familiar knot of anxiety in his stomach tighten. Yet the lure was irresistible. Answers, or at least something resembling them, waited.

Rain still lingered over Forks as Regulus, Evan, and Barty loaded into Barty’s car. The old sedan rumbled beneath them, tires squealing lightly over wet asphalt. Regulus sat quietly in the back seat, book bag on his lap, tapping his fingers against the worn leather. Evan, ever energetic, had already pulled out a playlist, fumbling with the volume as he tried to keep spirits high. Barty sat behind the wheel, knuckles tight on it, the corners of his mouth twitching as he scanned the slick roads.

“So,” Evan began, leaning back in his seat, “Port Angeles. You sure this isn’t just an excuse for more coffee stops?”

Regulus glanced up briefly, expression unreadable. “Coffee stops are incidental. I have a destination in mind. But we can look around first.”

Barty grunted, pulling the car up to the highway. “Good. Less talking. I don’t need a lecture on your mysterious folklore obsession while driving.”

The drive was a quiet affair, the rain forming a soft white haze across the windshield. Occasionally, Evan hummed a tune under his breath, and Regulus allowed himself to notice it, though he didn’t comment. Barty, ever practical, drove with methodical care, leaving space for the slick curves and cautious turns. Regulus’s mind wandered back to La Push, to the stories Remus had whispered. Even with Evan and Barty there, he could feel the pull of curiosity and unease, still tugging at him.

When they reached Port Angeles, the streets were quieter than expected, puddles reflecting the neon signs that flickered faintly. Shops were just beginning to reopen after their mid-afternoon closures. Barty parked near a small cluster of boutiques and bookstores.

They gave Regulus a grand tour of the city, then stopped at an old coffee shop for a moment of solace from the cold.

Regulus’s fingers clasped the coffee cup as he glanced at Evan and Barty. “Listen,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind, “you two can wander the shops for a while. I’ll be about an hour at most.”

Evan’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. “An hour? You mean disappear into a bookstore and emerge with ancient scrolls or something?”

Regulus allowed himself a faint smirk. “Something like that. Just… explore. Don’t worry.”

Barty chuckled, shaking his head as he adjusted the rearview mirror. “Fine. Be back in an hour. Remember, we’ve booked a table at the Italian restaurant down the road from here.” He pointed at the building. La Bella Italia . 

“I know, I know.” Regulus rolled his eyes. “Now let me go - I’ll see you two in a bit,” Regulus continued, already turning toward the dimly lit street. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, leaving the pavement slick and reflective. He felt the pull of the small shop, the one he’d spotted online. The rest of the world seemed to fade around him as he walked, the neon signs and passing pedestrians blurring into the background.

Evan and Barty wandered off in the other direction, laughing, leaving Regulus to his own devices. He moved quickly, checking the street as he went, though the darkness seemed unusually thick tonight. His pulse quickened slightly—not just with anticipation, but with the unease that had been growing since the dreams and forums he had scoured.

Finally, he reached the bookstore, Thunderbird and Whale , its sign glowing faintly under a warm lamppost, against the darkened street. He paused for a moment, catching his breath from the walk, which was further than he had expected, then pushed open the door. The familiar scent of aged paper and polished wood enveloped him instantly.

He scanned the shelves quickly, eyes locking on the small, well-worn volume he had found online. He picked it up, flipping carefully through its pages. It was exactly what he had hoped for: detailed, precise, and just obscure enough to feel like a secret passed only to those who sought it.

Time slipped by faster than he expected. A glance at his phone revealed no signal. He tapped it again, annoyed. The hour he had promised would be long past. He tucked the book under his arm and exited the store, taking a deep breath of the damp, night air.

Regulus stepped out of the bookstore, the bell above the door jingling faintly behind him. The night air was cool, damp with lingering drizzle, and the streets of Port Angeles were nearly empty, the occasional neon sign flickering across slick pavement. He tucked the book under his arm and adjusted his bag, trying to shake off the creeping unease that had settled in his chest.

He began walking toward the main street, keeping a steady pace, though every shadow seemed just a little too dark, every flicker of movement a little too deliberate. He had told Evan and Barty he’d be back in an hour, but already the minutes had stretched longer, and the thought of being late gnawed at him. The Italian restaurant they were supposed to meet at for dinner wasn’t far, but in the maze of narrow streets and dark alleyways, even familiar routes could feel unfamiliar.

Regulus’s eyes darted from side to side, scanning the streets, the closed shop windows reflecting his anxious expression back at him. The hum of neon signs, the distant traffic, and the drip of water from eaves and gutters became the soundtrack to his careful progress. He reached for his phone to check his location but froze. No signal.

The unease grew heavier, and he quickened his pace. That’s when he noticed them: three men walking a few paces behind, crates of beer balanced in their hands. They were tall, broad, and moving with the easy confidence of people who expected to be noticed. Their eyes lingered on him too long, and Regulus immediately knew they weren’t just fellow pedestrians.

He tried to remain calm, forcing his hands to relax in his pockets, but his pulse betrayed him. He increased his pace slightly, moving toward a better-lit part of the street. The men mirrored him effortlessly, matching his steps.

Regulus ducked down a side street, hoping to shake them, glancing nervously over his shoulder. They followed, subtle and deliberate, never closing too quickly, but always close enough that he could feel the pressure of their gaze. The small, intimate quiet of the night now felt oppressive, claustrophobic, every shadow a potential threat.

He stopped for a moment under the flicker of a broken streetlight, trying to think. Pulling out his phone again yielded nothing. He could hear their low murmur, the clink of the beer crates, and a knot of fear tightened in his stomach.

His mind raced back to the self-defence lessons he had taken as a child, long before his parents had started scrutinising his every move, before they had feared he might grow strong enough to fight back. He could feel the old muscle memory, the drills, the stances, the ways to pivot, block, escape. All of it was buried under years of caution and suppression, but now it flickered alive in his mind, a dull spark of reassurance in the rising panic.

Every shadow along the street seemed to stretch longer, every puddle a dark mirror reflecting the silhouettes of the three men trailing him. His breathing was measured as he tried to keep calm and think clearly. Each step was deliberate, aimed at keeping the distance between him and the men while moving toward the brighter lights of the main road. His heart beat against his ribs, but he tried to channel it, to remind himself he could handle more than he thought.

"There you are."

The voice was rough, loud, and close, shattering the quiet of the dimly lit street. Regulus froze, his chest tightening. In the growing shadows, the man’s gaze seemed to cut right past him, scanning as if he were sizing him up for some cruel game.

"Yeah," Regulus heard another voice call from behind, making him flinch again. The sound carried in the empty night, casual and mocking.

"We just took a little detour."

Regulus’s pace faltered, the street stretching ahead unnervingly. He was closing the distance too quickly. His heart hammered, and instinct took over. He drew in a sharp breath, trying to summon a yell, a warning, a deterrent, but his throat had gone dry.

The thickset man stepped away from the shadowed wall, moving slowly into the street, deliberately, a predator testing his prey.

"Stay away from me," Regulus said, forcing his voice to hold some authority. It cracked despite his effort, but it was enough to draw a flicker of attention from the man.

"Don’t be like that," the man said, and the laughter from the others behind him rose again, raucous and unnerving.

His eyes darted for an exit, a way out of the narrowing street, as the dark figures closed the distance. The air thickened, and each second stretched unbearably long. Then, over the hum of tension and the pounding of his own heartbeat, a roar of an engine tore through the night.

Then came the roar of an engine. It cut through the night with sudden ferocity, startling both Regulus and the men behind him. The vibration of the car’s presence reverberated through the pavement, the headlights swinging around a corner and lighting the street in stark, white brilliance.

Regulus froze for a split second, his instincts screaming to stay hidden, to assess whether this was another threat or salvation. Then the car skidded to a stop beside him, the passenger-side door opening wide.

"Get in," James snapped, his voice sharp and urgent.

Regulus’s fear evaporated the moment he heard it. Just like that, the choking panic that had gripped him on the dark street was replaced by a flood of relief. He leapt into the car, slamming the door behind him.

Inside, the cabin was dim, only the faint glow of the dashboard illuminating James’s face. Regulus could barely make out the tight set of his jaw, the glare in his eyes. The engine roared, tires squealing as James swung the car around, accelerating too quickly, cutting toward the three men still lingering in the street. They dived for the curb as James swerved, straightening out and speeding off toward the main road.

"Seat belt," James barked. Regulus realised he’d been clutching the edge of the seat with both hands. He snapped the belt across his chest, the click echoing in the dark. James took a sharp left, weaving around streetlights and ignoring the stop signs, his focus unrelenting.

For the first few moments, Regulus didn’t care about the reckless driving. He felt safe, protected, and for once, utterly unconcerned about where they were going. He watched James, studying his features in the faint light, noting the intensity behind his eyes. It was relief that made him stare, not curiosity, until he noticed the simmering fury in James’s expression.

"Are you okay?" Regulus asked, voice rough from shouting and fear.

"No," James said shortly, the word tight with barely restrained anger.

Regulus stayed quiet, watching him, trying not to add to the tension. The car came to a sudden stop on a dark stretch of road, lined with dense trees. Town lights were gone, swallowed by the night.

"Regulus?" James’s voice was quieter now, almost strained.

"Yes?" Regulus croaked, throat dry, still catching his breath.

"Are you all right?" James didn’t look at him directly, but the fury in his eyes was undeniable.

"Yes," Regulus whispered, not meeting his gaze.

"Distract me," James said, the command tight and urgent.

"What?"

"Talk. About anything. Something unimportant," James clarified, pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second. "I need to calm down."

Regulus hesitated, then blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I was thinking about going to that new record shop tomorrow… see if they’ve got anything obscure from the ‘90s. Maybe some Green Day or Muse vinyl."

James’s jaw tightened, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Why?"

"Because…" Regulus trailed, suddenly aware of how frantic his voice sounded. "I like to actually pick things out, feel the music before I listen. It’s better than just downloading everything. Helps me focus."

James exhaled sharply, and finally opened his eyes. The tension eased slightly.

"Better?"

"Not really," Regulus admitted, shrugging.

Silence stretched, the only sound the soft hum of the engine and the tires on wet asphalt.

"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper," James murmured, eyes narrowing on the dark road ahead. "But I need to remind myself it’s not helpful to turn around and—deal with them… here."

"I understand," Regulus said softly. He didn’t press, letting the quiet fill the space between them.

A glance at the dashboard clock made him frown. "Barty and Evan will be wondering where I went. We were supposed to meet for dinner."

James started the engine again without a word, swinging the car back toward town.

They reached the familiar streetlights of Forks quickly, James still weaving effortlessly through the slow-moving traffic. He slid the car into a narrow parking spot, perfectly aligned despite the small space.

Regulus spotted the warm glow of La Bella Italia through the rain-slicked streets. Evan and Barty were just leaving, pacing back and forth, worry etched into their faces.

"How did you—?" Regulus started, but shook his head, already knowing he didn’t have time for explanations.

The car door opened, and James stepped out, moving with that restless energy Regulus had come to recognise.

"What are you doing?" Regulus asked, hurried and breathless.

"I’m taking you to dinner," James said, a faint, almost grim smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes stayed sharp. He slammed the car door behind him.

Regulus fumbled with his seatbelt, then scrambled out of the car. James was already waiting on the sidewalk, the rain dripping from his hair, his stance protective and impatient.

Chapter Text

Regulus waved as Evan and Barty turned back, relief flashing across their faces before surprise took over at the sight of James standing beside him. They paused a few feet away, uncertain.

"Where have you been?" Evan asked, suspicion clear in his tone.

"I got lost," Regulus admitted sheepishly. "And then… I ran into James." He gestured toward him.

"Would it be all right if I joined you?" James asked, his voice calm yet commanding. Regulus could see from their expressions that they had never experienced his presence like this before.

"Er… sure," Evan breathed.

"Um, actually, we already grabbed a bite while waiting — sorry," Barty said.

"That's fine — I'm not hungry," Regulus shrugged.

"You should eat something," James said, low and authoritative. He looked at Evan and Barty. "Do you mind if I drive Reg home tonight? That way, you won’t have to wait while he eats."

"Uh, no problem, I guess…" Evan said, biting his lip, trying to read Regulus’s reaction. Regulus just gave a small, knowing smile. He wanted nothing more than to be alone with James; there were so many questions he couldn’t ask in front of anyone else.

"Okay," Barty said quickly, tugging Evan toward the parked car across the street. Both waved as they left. Regulus waited until they were gone before turning to James.

"Honestly, I’m not hungry," he said, looking up.

"Humor me," James said, walking to the restaurant door and holding it open. Regulus sighed and followed him inside.

The restaurant was quiet — the off-season in Port Angeles. The hostess, unnaturally blond and several inches taller than Regulus, welcomed James more warmly than seemed necessary. Regulus felt an unexpected pang of irritation.

"A table for two?" James asked, his voice smooth and persuasive. Her eyes flicked to Regulus and then away, reassured by his plainness and by the careful space James maintained between them. She led them to a table in the center of the room.

Regulus was about to sit, but James shook his head. "Perhaps somewhere more private?" he asked quietly. He slipped a bill to the hostess, who led them around a partition to a small ring of empty booths.

"Perfect," James said, flashing a small, slightly intimidating smile.

"You really shouldn’t do that to people," Regulus murmured. "It’s hardly fair."

"Do what?"

"Dazzle them like that — she’s probably hyperventilating in the kitchen now."

James cocked his head. "I dazzle people?"

"You haven’t noticed? Do you think everyone just falls into line for no reason?"

He ignored the jab. "Do I dazzle you?"

"Frequently," Regulus admitted.

The server arrived, her smile far too eager as she addressed James. "Hello, I’m Amber. I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?"

James looked at Regulus. "Two Cokes," he said firmly.

Regulus watched him quietly as she left, and James asked softly, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Regulus said.

"You don’t feel dizzy, sick…?"

"Should I?"

James chuckled at the confusion in his tone. "Well, I’m waiting for you to go into shock."

Regulus laughed lightly. "I’ve always been good at keeping things under control."

"Still, I’ll feel better once you have some food in you."

The waitress returned with drinks and breadsticks. Regulus picked up his fork and ordered mushroom ravioli. James refused anything, of course.

"Drink," he said, nodding toward the glass. Regulus drank, realizing how thirsty he had been. James handed the glass back when he finished.

"Are you cold?" James asked.

"It’s just the Coke," Regulus explained.

"Don’t you have a jacket?"

"Yes… I left it in Evan’s car."

James shrugged off his light jacket, revealing a snug ivory turtleneck beneath. He handed it to Regulus, who slid his arms in, inhaling its warm, delicious scent, shivering slightly.

"That colour looks lovely on you," James said, and Regulus flushed, looking down.

The server returned with his food, and they leaned back slightly as she placed it before him. Regulus ate while James watched, waiting.

Finally, Regulus ventured, "Why are you in Port Angeles?"

"Next," James said, eyes flicking up at him.

"But that’s the easiest one," Regulus protested.

"Next," James repeated firmly.

He chewed slowly, thinking. "Hypothetically, if someone could read minds… with exceptions… how would they find someone at the right time? How would they know someone’s in trouble?"

"Hypothetically?" James asked.

"Sure. Let’s call the person… Joe. And the girl he’s obsessed with… Love." Regulus smirked faintly at his own You reference.

"Joe and Love," James repeated. A faint shadow of amusement crossed his expression.

"If Joe had been paying attention, the timing wouldn’t have needed to be so exact," James said. "Only Love could manage to find herself in trouble in a small town like this."

"We’re speaking hypothetically," Regulus reminded him.

"Yes," James agreed, eyes warming. "Shall we call you Love for now?"

"You can trust me, you know," Regulus murmured. Regulus reached out to touch his hand, but James slid it away.

"I don’t know if I have a choice anymore," he admitted softly. "I was shocked at how much I cared — keeping tabs on you, feeling anxious for the first time… It’s more troublesome than I imagined."

"You’re… surprised at yourself?" Regulus asked, intrigued.

"Yes," James said quietly. "Ordinary people get through their day without attracting trouble. But you… you’re something else. And I’m drawn to it, to you, more than I should be."

Regulus felt a strange thrill at his words.

"You’ve been keeping tabs on me?" he asked.

"It's harder than it should be… keeping track of you," James said, voice low, tense. "Usually I can locate someone easily, once I’ve heard their mind before." He glanced at Regulus anxiously, and he froze, caught in the intensity of his gaze. Regulus forced himself to swallow, then nibbled at another bite of his food, trying to keep his composure.

"I was keeping tabs on Evan and Barty, not closely," James continued, eyes still fixed on a distant point beyond the table. "At first, I didn’t notice when you went off on your own. When I realised you weren’t with them anymore, I went looking for you at the bookstore I saw in their heads. You hadn’t gone inside… you’d gone south. I knew you’d have to turn back eventually. So I waited, listening, scanning the thoughts of people around you to know if anyone noticed. There was no reason to worry about you directly, or well, I thought at the time… but I felt… anxious."

James’s hand twitched near his face. He seemed lost in thought, staring past Regulus as if he could see everything in the streets outside.

"I started driving in circles, still listening," he said, teeth clenched briefly. "The sun was almost gone, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then—" He stopped, jaw tightening, a flicker of fury crossing his features.

"Then what?" Regulus whispered.

"I heard what they were thinking," James growled, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. "I saw your face in his mind." He leaned forward suddenly, one elbow on the table, his hand covering his eyes in a swift motion that made Regulus flinch.

“Things have been happening in Port Angeles - I’m not sure if you’ve been keeping up with the news. There have been disappearances. But when Al- never mind- when someone had come to me, telling me where you were going. It’s silly, I know. But I was worried

"It was… very hard. You can’t imagine how hard — to simply take you away and leave them alive," James admitted, his voice muffled. "I could have let you go back with Evan and Barty, but I was afraid… if you left me alone, I’d go after them."

Regulus sat quietly, dazed, hands folded in his lap, leaning weakly against the back of the seat. James remained tense, his face partially hidden, as if carved from alabaster stone.

Finally, James looked up, eyes locking on Regulus’s, full of unspoken questions and the sharp edge of his worry.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked, voice low but firm.

"I’m ready to leave," Regulus replied, grateful for the ride ahead, for the hour they would have together. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye—not yet.

James had paid, despite Regulus’s attempts to press his card to the reader before him. 

They walked to the car, silence surrounding them. 

Once they were both inside the car, James started the engine and cranked the heater high. The chill of the evening crept in from the windows, but Regulus felt a comforting warmth from James’s jacket, inhaling the subtle scent that seemed to stick to him, an aroma he couldn’t quite name. He tried not to let James see how much it grounded him.

James eased into the quiet street, steering smoothly as if he owned every inch of the road. “Your turn,” he said, voice low and deliberate.

Regulus hesitated, fingers tightening on the edge of the seat. “One last question,” he said. “Please.”

James exhaled sharply but didn’t glance at him. “One,” he allowed, lips pressed into a thin, measured line.

Regulus tried to keep his voice steady. “You knew I didn’t go into the bookstore… that I’d gone south. How?”

James didn’t answer at once, his silence deliberate, almost teasing.

“I thought we were past all the evasions,” Regulus muttered, irritation creeping in.

A faint smirk curved James’s lips. “Fine. I followed your scent.”

Regulus blinked, caught between disbelief and admiration. He had no reply; the answer was so simple yet entirely James. But he wasn’t ready to stop probing. “And what about one of my first questions—how does it actually work? Can you hear anyone anywhere? Everyone in your family?”

James shook his head slowly. “That’s several questions rolled into one,” he said lightly, though his focus never left the road.

Regulus leaned back, folding his fingers together. “I’ll wait.”

“No, just me. I can’t hear everyone everywhere. I have to be close. The closer you are, the clearer the thoughts. Beyond a few miles, it’s only noise.” He paused, thoughtful. “It’s like standing in a room filled with whispers. A constant hum. I focus, and one voice separates from the rest. That’s when I hear.”

“And most of the time?” Regulus pressed.

“I tune it out. Otherwise, it’s chaos. Easier to appear… normal,” James said, a frown crossing his features. “Otherwise, I might answer someone’s thoughts instead of their words.”

Regulus tilted his head. “Why not me?”

James’s gaze flicked to him, unreadable. “I don’t know. Maybe your mind… it’s different. Like your thoughts are AM, and I’m tuned to FM.” He allowed himself a small, amused smile.

“My mind doesn’t work properly?” Regulus muttered, unnerved by how much the remark resonated.

James chuckled softly. “I hear voices constantly, and you’re worried you’re the freak? Don’t. That’s just a theory.” Then he added, “Now, back to you.”

Regulus exhaled, forcing calm into his voice. “Aren’t we past all the evasions now?”

James’s eyes flicked to him briefly, then back to the road. “Yes.”

“When I was at La Push,” Regulus kept his voice low, eyes briefly on James’s face, searching. James’s expression was unreadable, slightly puzzled.

“I ran into a friend of my brother. He has some scars. I asked about them… I know I shouldn’t have, but… he mentioned old tribe legends.”

James’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“He didn’t say too much really, but I spoke to Sirius after, and he was confused to why Remus even told me - said it was supposed to be a big secret, or something. But it made me curious… then I kept dreaming of the legends, but your stupid golden eyes crept in the mix.”

“One of Remus’s friends mentioned your family… said ‘the Potters don't come here’,” Regulus admitted carefully.

James remained silent, eyes fixed on the road ahead, hand tightening around the steering wheel.

Regulus felt an unexpected worry—not for himself, but for Remus. “He mentioned the cold ones. Mixed with the dreams and the stories, I did some googling. And well, it led me to the bookstore.”

The silence afterwards was deafening. James continued to drive. Regulus couldn’t bear it, eventually breaking it. "I decided it didn't matter."  

"It didn't matter?" His tone made Regulus look up. 

"No," Regulus said softly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are." 

A note of worry threaded through James’s voice. “You… you don’t care if I’m a monster? If I’m not human?”

Regulus looked up at him calmly, meeting his eyes. “No.”

James’s golden eyes softened, watching him closely. “Then I’ll be honest. All of it. If I’m telling you everything, you need to be ready for it.”

Regulus blinked, feeling a strange calm wash over him. “I… I’m not scared,” he murmured, surprised at how natural that sounded.

“You should be,” James said gently, though the edge in his tone betrayed a constant, underlying tension. “But… I understand. I just need you to know—if I’m honest, there’s no half-measures.”

Regulus swallowed hard, processing that. 

“I just… I can’t hide anything from you, not anymore. You deserve the truth.”

Regulus took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Then… what do you want to tell me first?”

James’s lips curved faintly, and his gaze turned thoughtful, distant. “It’s up to you.”

“How old are you?” Regulus asked, needing confirmation.

“Nineteen,” James said, calm, almost casual. 

“And… how long have you been nineteen?”

James smirked. “A while…”

“A while?” Regulus pressed, feeling the weight of that simple statement.

James’s expression darkened for a moment, then relaxed again. “Long enough to know how careful I need to be around you.” 

His eyes flicked to Regulus, seeing the shock mirrored in his pale face. “You’re not afraid?”

Regulus shook his head slowly. “I… I should be, shouldn’t I?”

James let out a soft, almost amused sigh. “Most would be. But you…” He drifted off. 

Regulus swallowed, captivated by the intensity, by the quiet care in James’s voice. He realised how much it unsettled him that he wasn’t afraid, even as James’s presence radiated danger.

“And daylight?” Regulus asked, testing the boundaries. “You… survive it?”

James chuckled lightly, leaning back against the seat. “That’s a myth. Sun doesn’t burn me. I don’t sleep in coffins. And… I don’t sleep at all.” His voice dropped, and there was a wistful note to it. “Ever.”

Regulus blinked, trying to imagine that endless wakefulness. “Never?”

James glanced at him, golden eyes soft but unwavering. “Never. But I’m okay. Relaxed, even… mostly.” There was a tension under the calm, a constant alertness he couldn’t shake.

Regulus stared, awe-struck. “I… I’m not scared.”

James’s lips curved faintly. “I know. But you should be. And I like that you’re not… not yet. It means you’re still thinking clearly. I need you to think clearly.”

Regulus nodded, struggling to contain his astonishment and a faint thrill of trust he didn’t expect.

“And now… the part you’ve been waiting for,” James said quietly, voice firm. “The diet. Do you want to know?”

Regulus swallowed. “Yes.”

James’s expression softened further, though his shoulders tensed just slightly. “My family and I consider ourselves somewhat ‘Vegetarians’,” he chuckled, as if it were an inside joke. “We survive off the blood of animals, rather than humans… that's why my eyes aren’t red. Helps us fit in when our eyes are more hazel-y, I'll tell you that,” he joked.

“Tell me more,” Regulus said, his voice sharp with urgency, desperate to hear James speak again.

James’s golden eyes flicked to him, startled by the intensity in his tone. “More? What exactly do you want to know?”

“Why… why do you hunt animals instead of people?” Regulus’s voice was unsteady now, tinged with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. He realised his chest felt tight, his eyes prickling with something he didn’t want to name.

James’s expression softened immediately, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Because I don’t want to be a monster,” he said, almost in a whisper.

Regulus frowned, confused. “But… animals aren’t enough?”

James’s gaze drifted to the road ahead, thoughtful. “It’s… not simple. I’d compare it to subsisting on tofu and soy milk,” he said wryly, though the humour was faint. 

Regulus hesitated, then finally said, his voice low but steady, “I… I don’t think you’re a monster.”

James’s hands tightened briefly on the wheel, his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly. He didn’t answer right away, his golden eyes fixed on the dark road ahead, thoughtful and guarded. “I appreciate that,” he admitted finally, his voice quieter than usual, “but it doesn’t change what I am.”

Regulus met his gaze, trying to convey the sincerity behind his words. “I don’t care. That doesn’t make you less… you. It doesn’t make me… afraid.”

James allowed a small, fleeting smile to tug at the corner of his lips, though the tension didn’t leave his posture. “You’re brave… or maybe reckless,” he murmured. “Either way, it’s… surprising.”

Regulus shrugged, a faint smirk ghosting over his face. “Maybe a little of both.”

For a long moment, they drove in silence, the quiet between them more comforting than the words they’d exchanged. Then James’s car slowed, pulling up smoothly in front of Regulus and Sirius’s home. The glow from the porch light illuminated the driveway, the familiar sight oddly grounding after the chaos of the evening.

James killed the engine, the sudden stillness of the car making Regulus acutely aware of the lingering tension between them. “Here,” James said quietly, his hand brushing the edge of the seat, almost hesitant to let go. “Safe for now.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” James said, the faint exhale of frustration—or maybe impatience—sliding through his words. His eyes never wavered from Regulus, a silent insistence that the night end here.

“Tomorrow, then,” Regulus murmured, pushing the door open with reluctance.

“Regulus?” The name pulled him back. James was leaning forward now, the dim glow from the streetlight catching the sharp planes of his face. Golden eyes locked on him, intense and unreadable, yet tinged with a gentleness that made Regulus’s chest tighten.

“Sleep well,” James breathed, and the warmth of his presence was immediate, suffocating, intoxicating. That familiar scent of his jacket was stronger here, sharper somehow, brushing against Regulus like a quiet promise. Slowly, James leaned back, letting just enough space return, though the air between them still thrummed.

Regulus stayed frozen for a heartbeat longer, mind scattered, limbs rigid. When he finally forced himself to step out, he had to steady himself against the car’s frame. A soft exhale—or was it a chuckle?—slipped from James, so low and fleeting it could have been imagined.

James didn’t move until Regulus had crossed the porch and reached the threshold of his home. Only then did the soft growl of the engine rouse, a gentle, predatory vibration. Regulus glanced over his shoulder as the silver car slid quietly into the night, folding into the shadows. The sudden silence of the street made the cold bite sharper, and he hugged his jacket tighter, though the warmth James had left behind lingered in his chest like a pulse that refused to fade.

Chapter Text

Regulus locked the front door behind him, fingers lingering on the key as if trying to ground himself. His mind was elsewhere—so elsewhere that he didn’t notice the sleek car idling just beyond the hedge.

“Regulus,” a voice called lightly, casual as though it hadn’t been waiting there all along.

He turned, startled, to find James leaning against the car door with that infuriating smirk tugging at his mouth.

“I’m going to take you out,” James declared.

Reg blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Yep.” James popped the ‘p’ with deliberate insolence. “I’ve decided.”

Reg folded his arms. “And how do you know I even want to go with you?” His voice held the faintest tease, though his heart wasn’t sure whether to race or stop altogether.

“I thought you said I dazzle you,” James shot back, the grin widening.

Reg rolled his eyes so hard it was almost theatrical. “Jesus, save me.”

“Alright then,” Reg added after a beat, voice dry, “at least ask me properly. Nicely. Like I’ve got a choice in this.”

James’s expression softened, the smirk edged with something gentler, more earnest than Reg expected. “Fine. Regulus Black would you do me the honour of letting me drag you away from whatever dreary plans you’ve got today?”

Despite himself, Reg’s lips twitched. He hadn’t told anyone about what had happened in Port Angeles - the way James had found him, saved him - and part of him wanted to keep it locked up tight. But part of him, inconveniently, liked this version of James: pushy, infuriating, but somehow safe.

James pulled the car door open with a flourish, waiting. Regulus arched an eyebrow, suspicion flickering across his face. “What exactly are you planning?”

“You’ll see,” James said simply, like the matter was settled. 

Reg hovered only a moment longer before slipping into the passenger seat. He set his tote carefully on the floor by his feet, still eyeing James sidelong as the vampire closed the door behind him.

“Okay, but I was heading to the library just now. At least give me an hour to catch up on my coursework.”

“Fine… we’ll go there first. Then, I have a surprise.”

James slid smoothly into the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other draped carelessly across the armrest. The engine purred to life with the ease of something unnervingly expensive.

Regulus buckled in slowly, side-eyeing him. “It’ll look odd. You're driving me in, that is.”

“Let them wonder,” James said simply, like that settled everything.

Regulus sat back, tote against his feet, suspicion lingering but curiosity winning. He wasn’t sure what was more disconcerting—the idea of James Potter, vampire extraordinaire, striding across the uni quad at his side… or how much he didn’t entirely hate the thought.

Regulus pulled out his phone, idly checking his notifications.

Since that night in Port Angeles, Barty and Evan had been annoyingly attentive -“checking up” was how they framed it, but Regulus suspected it was guilt gnawing at them. They’d carried on with their dinner plans while he’d been left to wander dark, unfamiliar streets. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to resent them. Their fussing was irritating, yes, but also… strangely comforting.

The condition of their continued peace, however, was that Regulus kept them updated about his whereabouts. A precaution, they’d said. Reg thought it sounded more like a leash, but he went along with it.

He sighed now, tugged his phone from his pocket, and typed quickly.

Regulus:
U guys in college today?

Evan:
Already in the canteen, Reggie. You ok?

Barty:
Evan’s dragging me to the library later smh…

Regulus smirked faintly, then thumbed out his reply:

Regulus:
Okay — heads up… James is taking me. 

Don’t act weird. please. 

I beg.

He hovered for a moment before hitting send. The read receipts blinked almost immediately, and Reg braced himself for the chaos that would inevitably follow.

Evan:
…wait. James? Potter James?

Barty:
Reggie. He’s taking you to college? Like… driving you?

Regulus:
Yes. Please don’t make a scene. Just… be normal.

Barty:
define normal. bc normal is me asking why the hell he’s decided to chauffeur you out of nowhere.

Evan:
Barty.

Barty:
what?? i’m just saying. people don’t do stuff like this unless they want something.

Regulus:
You’re both insufferable. He’s just being… kind. 

End of story.

Evan:
We’re not judging. 

We just want to make sure you’re okay after the other night.

Barty:
yeah, like if he starts being weird, blink twice or something and we’ll rescue you.

Regulus:
If either of you “rescue” me, I’ll make sure you regret it.

Evan:
Fine, fine. We’ll be cool. Just text if you need anything.

Barty:
or if he serenades you in the car. i need details.

Regulus:
Barty. I’m muting you.

Regulus silenced his phone with a sharp tap, shoving it into his tote before James could glance across at the screen. 

“You’re quiet,” James observed, eyes flicking to Regulus before returning to the road.

“I’m always quiet,” Regulus deadpanned, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

James huffed out a laugh, clearly unconvinced. “Sure. But it feels like you’re rehearsing an excuse in your head. Should I be worried?”

“No. Absolutely not,” Regulus replied smoothly, shifting in his seat. “Just… preparing myself for Evan and Barty’s theatrics.”

The car rolled into the university car park, engine purring like some sleek predator. James cut the ignition, and for a moment the world went still. Students streamed past in twos and threes, the normal morning buzz of chatter and rushing to lectures.

James got out first, walking around the bonnet to open Regulus’s door for him. It was so effortlessly chivalrous that Regulus couldn’t help the suspicious little glance he shot him.

“You do realise this makes me look like a kept man,” Regulus muttered, swinging his legs out and grabbing his tote.

James grinned.

Evan and Barty were already loitering on the steps leading into the main building. Evan spotted him first, nudging Barty, who straightened immediately, his eyes narrowing as soon as James came into view.

“Here we go,” Regulus sighed under his breath.

James leaned slightly closer, voice low and amused. “Your guard dogs?”

“More like rabid cats,” Regulus corrected, though his tone was fond despite himself.

They hadn’t even made it halfway across the car park before Barty called out, loud enough for everyone to hear: “Well, well, Reggie! Didn’t know you had a chauffeur!”

Evan elbowed him sharply but couldn’t quite hide the twitch of a smile.

Regulus gave them both a look that promised slow, painful retribution. “Don’t you dare.”

James, of course, only looked delighted. “I’m happy to play chauffeur. Gets me out of the house.”

Barty leaned forward on the rail, smirking. “What’s next, Potter? Picking him up after lectures? Carrying his tote bag for him?”

To Regulus’s mortification, James didn’t miss a beat. “If he lets me.”

Regulus wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Evan looked like he might combust from secondhand embarrassment. And Barty. Barty looked like Christmas had come early.

“You two have fun on your little study date,” Barty joked after eyeing the handful of books poking out of Regulus’s tote.

Regulus stopped dead on the steps, turning slowly to glare at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“True,” Barty agreed cheerfully, hooking his arm through Evan’s. “Come on, Ev, let’s leave them to it.”

Evan groaned but allowed himself to be dragged along, tossing Regulus an apologetic grin over his shoulder. “Don’t let him rope you into anything weird, Reggie.”

“I hate both of you,” Regulus muttered, rolling his eyes as he adjusted the strap of his tote.

James fell into step beside him as they cut across the quad toward the library, still faintly amused, though he had the good sense not to add fuel to the fire.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” Regulus said, his tone clipped but not quite serious.

James tilted his head, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What, being mistaken for your date? Not the worst rumour I’ve heard about myself.”

Regulus’s ears warmed despite himself. He shoved the door of the library open a little too hard, stalking inside with all the air of someone pretending not to care. James followed, easily keeping pace.

They settled into a table tucked near the window, half-hidden by shelves. Regulus slid his books out of his bag, then leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing at James.

“Are you still not going to tell me?” he asked, low, insistent. “Where you’re taking me. After this.”

James’s grin sharpened. “Nope.”

“You do realise I don’t like surprises,” Regulus pressed, suspicion edging his voice. “Never have.”

“I know,” James said simply, resting his chin in his hand, looking infuriatingly unbothered. “But trust me, you’ll like this one.”

Regulus studied him for a long moment, trying to decide if he was more irritated or intrigued. Finally, he huffed, flipping a page in his book with unnecessary force.

“If this ends with you forcing me to eat something revolting under the guise of being ‘cultured,’ I swear—”

“You’ll what?” James leaned in, golden eyes glinting with challenge.

Regulus’s lips twitched. He quickly looked back at his book. “I’ll complain. Endlessly.”

James chuckled quietly, like he knew Regulus was bluffing.

James leaned lazily against the table instead of opening a book, gaze flicking between Regulus and the tall windows where the light filtered in.

Regulus arched an eyebrow without looking up. “If you want to take me out later, you’ll sit there and let me get through this chapter.”

“Strict,” James murmured, though his lips curved in that half-grin of his.

“Disciplined,” Regulus corrected, underlining a sentence with neat precision. “Some of us have priorities. Now, if you don’t at least pretend to read, I’m walking myself home.”

James leaned back, studying him with open amusement, but finally reached for one of Regulus’s books, flipping it open upside down.

Regulus sighed, reaching over to twist the book the right way round. “Hopeless.”

“Content,” James countered softly, eyes flicking up to meet his. “You read, I’ll wait. I’ve read this before, anyway.”

Regulus blinked, caught for a second in that intent gaze before forcing himself back to the page. His ears were a little too warm, and his notes suddenly messier than usual.

They stayed nearly an hour. Regulus managed to scrawl several pages of notes, though his handwriting slanted more than usual, evidence of his scattered thoughts. James didn’t so much as crack open a book, but he never looked bored.

When Regulus finally snapped his notebook shut, James straightened like he had been waiting.

“Finished?”

“For now.” Regulus began gathering his things.

“Good. Because we’re not done.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I promised you a surprise.” James’s grin was infuriatingly confident.

“I told you, I don’t like surprises.”

“And I told you I’d change your mind.”

Regulus exhaled sharply through his nose, but James was already rising, already scooping up the tote bag like it was nothing. He strode toward the exit, leaving Regulus to follow unless he wanted to cause a scene. Which, obviously, he did not.

Back in the car, the silence was thicker than before, punctuated only by the hum of the engine. Regulus traced the edge of his notebook absentmindedly, staring out the window as the campus buildings blurred into trees.

Finally, he broke. “So are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“No.” James’s tone was steady, patient in its refusal.

Regulus turned toward him, arching a brow. “I don’t like surprises.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because you’ll like this one,” James said simply, cutting him off.

Regulus made a face. “That’s very optimistic of you.”

“It’s a risk I’ll take.”

The faintest warmth threaded through his voice. Regulus narrowed his eyes at him, but said nothing more, choosing instead to sulk against the window. James, as usual, didn’t rise to the bait.

The scenery shifted. Paved roads gave way to narrower lanes, trees crowding closer, branches twisting overhead. When the car finally slowed, Regulus sat forward. A gravel lot opened beside a trailhead, a sign marking the beginning of a public hiking path.

Regulus stared. Then he looked down at his black jeans. Then at his boots. Then back at James.

“You’re joking.”

James had already stepped out, walking around to open Regulus’s door. “I’m not.”

Regulus stepped out reluctantly, clutching his tote. “I’m not dressed for this.”

“You’ll manage,” James said, almost amused.

Regulus eyed him suspiciously. “If this ends with me sweaty and covered in mud, I’ll never forgive you.”

James tilted his head. “If it does, I’ll carry you back.”

“Ridiculous,” Regulus muttered, rolling his eyes, but he followed him anyway.

The trail wound upward beneath a canopy of green, shafts of sunlight filtering through to dapple the ground. Gravel crunched underfoot, birds flitted from branch to branch, and the air was sharper here, cleaner. Regulus adjusted his coat, feeling out of place but unwilling to complain further.

The path eventually opened into a clearing where the trees fell back and sunlight poured unhindered. James stopped walking.

“This,” he said softly, “is your surprise.”

Regulus frowned, scanning the view. “What, the scenery?”

James shook his head once. 

He seemed to take what looked like a deep breath - if that were possible for a vampire - and walked towards a beam of gleaming light, where the canopies of the trees around them fractured the sun. Without a word, he slowly began to tug at his deep-burgundy button-down. Soon, the shirt was open, leaving only the golden crucifix around James’s neck as coverage. Finally, James turned around to face him.

His breath faltered.

James’s skin caught the sun like nothing Regulus had ever seen. It was not merely brightness but brilliance, as if every inch of him was refracting light, scattering it in sharp, dazzling fragments. He seemed carved from crystal and flame, too radiant to be earthly. His face, already striking, became impossible to look at directly.

Regulus froze. His heart beat painfully fast.

James stood with careful stillness, though tension hummed beneath it, as if he were waiting for something - recoil, revulsion, fear. His eyes, luminous even in shadow, were brighter still, locked on Regulus with unflinching intensity.

“Now you know,” he said quietly, the words almost reluctant.

Regulus swallowed, mouth dry. “You weren’t lying.”

“I told you I wanted honesty,” James replied. His voice was steady, but there was something raw at the edges, something fragile.

Regulus’s throat tightened. He should have been afraid. He should have stepped back. Instead, his chest ached with something he could not name, sharp and consuming. He shook his head slowly.

“You’re…” The word caught, then pushed free on a breath. “You’re beautiful.”

The silence that followed was heavy, almost unbearable. James blinked, his expression flickering, but he did not move. The word seemed to hang in the air between them, brighter than the light itself.

James finally looked away, tension cutting across his jaw, as though he didn’t know what to do with the sentiment.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t say that.”

Regulus stepped forward, compelled despite himself. “Why not? It’s true.”

James’s eyes returned to him, sharp, unsettled, yet soft beneath the conflict. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me,” Regulus said, voice steady though his hands trembled at his sides.

James exhaled, a sound like restraint, like an ache. For a moment longer, he held himself in the light, dazzling and impossible, before finally turning slightly, as if to ease Regulus’s gaze. But it was too late. The image was already seared into Regulus’s mind, unforgettable.

Nothing could make him unsee it. And nothing could make him take the word back. 

Regulus’s eyes were fighting – flattering between looking down to the moss-clad ground out of respect for James, or, rather selfishly, eyeing the boy up, battling the urge to smirk at the sight before him.

Beautiful.

“You don’t understand,” he murmured, voice low, almost swallowed by the wind. “It’s not just being… beautiful. It’s everything that comes with it. The way people see you, the way you can’t hide. The way it reminds you… of what you’ve lost. I’m forced to guard myself, be aware of every detail, every movement, just to keep the secret–” He paused, a brief, rueful smile flickering across his face as he looked at Regulus. “I can’t say I tried to hide from you, not really, but… You get the idea, right? It shapes everything I am, every mistake I’ve made, every choice I regret… It’s like a permanent mark I can’t erase. A reminder that my existence is like a gift from Lucifer himself. And no matter what anyone else might see, it doesn’t feel beautiful to me.”

Oh. Oh James. 

Something inside Regulus broke, knowing James thought of himself this way.

“And by God, have I sinned. My existence takes the beauty of life and rips it to shreds. And I didn’t even choose this. I was dying, ready to be taken. Mortality was taking its due course, but instead, I was saved. Hardly. 

“I try, every day, to be good, but this is a reminder. I just want to be honest here about what I am. I didn’t expect to get all… I don’t know. Angsty. I thought I was okay again, having met you. You make me want to be good for myself. I know how I come across to humans – of course I do. Wanted to show you who I really am. In the light. So you won’t feel like you’re in the dark with all of this.”

Regulus, by this point, had made his way over to James, placing a soft hand against his marble-cold cheek.

“Fuck, I– I don’t even know why I am telling you all of this. You make me want to be so open, it’s scary. And I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. But I need you to know what you’re getting into here.”

“I know, James. I know what I’m getting into, okay.” Their eyes locked. “I’m not scared. I’m not repulsed. And again, I know what I’m getting into here.”

They shared a moment in silence, letting the words James spoke to hang in the air a little longer.

“And believe me, you’re not the only one with a tortured past,” Regulus laughed, “if anything, you should be scared of me.”

With that, James’s mouth twisted into a smile, giving Regulus a knowing look. A silent thanks.

James knew he was lucky the second Regulus hadn’t turned on his heel to sprint away. Not that James couldn’t catch up and explain, but he was forever grateful for his chance to finally, fully explain himself to Regulus.

Chapter Text

Since the hike, the two had been nearly inseparable, spending long days together and even longer nights, whether studying, walking, or just lingering in each other’s presence. Regulus had come to expect James in ways that unsettled him, in the best kind of way, but nothing had prepared him for the first night James decided to appear uninvited.

Regulus had been tucked away in his room for hours, headphones snug over his ears, completely absorbed in the rhythms of his study playlist. His desk was littered with open notebooks, half-scribbled equations, and textbooks splayed out like a fortress around him. For once, he felt entirely in the zone, each thought carefully tethered to the next, a rare calm washing over him.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his shoulders, and reached for the glass of water he had left precariously at the edge of the desk. That’s when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.

James was there. Leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, a small, knowing smirk playing across his face. Regulus froze, eyes wide, heart skipping a beat.

The glass trembled in his fingers and slipped.

James moved faster than Regulus’s brain could process, catching it effortlessly in one hand before it hit the floor. “Careful,” James said, voice low, teasing, “wouldn’t want to wake up your brother.”

“What the actual fuck, James?” he gasped, heart hammering.

James froze mid-step, one hand pressed to the window frame, eyes wide, golden and almost glowing in the moonlight. “Okay… okay, I have to tell you something, but please don’t be mad,” he said, a sheepish smirk tugging at his lips.

Regulus narrowed his eyes, arms crossed. “I’m listening…”

“You know how you leave your window open sometimes? Well… God, this sounds weird now. I promise it isn’t. It’s pure-intentioned, totally harmless,” James rushed on, his voice a mix of nerves and excitement. “Right… so, I kind of climb through and… watch you sleep.”

Regulus blinked, mouth slightly open. Then, instinctively, the nearest book—a thick hardcover he’d been reading—lifted into the air and slammed into James’s face with a solid thump.

“You’re lucky that doesn’t hurt, James,” Regulus hissed, eyes flashing. He leaned back against the headboard, frowning but trying not to laugh. “Okay, that’s not even the full story. You have to explain yourself before I kick you out.”

James rubbed the side of his face where the book had hit, a small laugh escaping him. “I just… I like making sure you’re safe. I don’t know. I have this… weird urge to protect you. It’s not creepy, I swear. I promise I’m not… a weirdo.”

Regulus’s scowl softened slightly, though he still kept his arms crossed. “You realise this sounds insane, right? Watching me sleep?”

James tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Maybe a little insane. But… if I didn’t, I’d be worrying all night. Plus, this time I came over before you were asleep. Missed your company.”

Regulus felt his chest tighten. He wanted to roll his eyes, to act annoyed, but the sincerity in James’s tone—the almost palpable warmth in his presence—made it impossible. He muttered, almost reluctantly, “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“I know,” James admitted, shrugging, his smirk returning. 

Regulus groaned, burying his face in a pillow for a moment, pretending to be angry, though his heart was racing in a way he refused to admit. “Fine. How long have you been doing this– actually, no. I prefer not to know. 

“You can stay, not that you needed my permission before, clearly. Shut up and just sit on my bed and let me finish up, okay?” He picked up his pen again, continuing the scribble words onto the paper.

James leaned closer, lowering his voice so it was almost a whisper. “Your bed, huh?”

Regulus opened one eye, glaring. “I said—”

“—I know,” James interrupted, golden eyes locking with his. “I’ll be good.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that made the air feel charged. Regulus finally sat up fully, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t stop a small, exasperated laugh from escaping. “You’re insane.”

James’s smile widened, eyes sparkling in the dim moonlight. “And yet… here I am.”

Regulus shook his head, but there was a softness in his eyes that James caught, and he felt a flicker of victory. 

Regulus exhaled, part disbelief, part amusement, part warmth flooding his chest. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

James leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming in the darkness. “I know. And I kind of love that you think that.”

“Shut up, James. Let me study, okay? You’ll have my complete attention in literally like, what, thirty minutes? Please.”

With that, James smirked. He walked over towards Regulus’s bed and made himself comfortable, eyes twinkling. “Deal. But maybe… I’ll make it a little more interesting. You know, rewards for every page you finish.”

“Rewards?” Regulus asked, breath hitched in his throat.

“Little incentives,” James said with a mischievous grin. “Whatever you want, and maybe I’ll even let you throw a whole textbook at me next time.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “You’re tempting fate, Jamie.”

James’s smirk widened. “I know. But I’ve never minded temptation, Regulus.”

The next hour passed in a delicate rhythm; Regulus scribbling notes, James quietly observing, occasionally offering a teasing comment or fetching a drink. The night felt suspended, small and perfect in its own way.

Then, as Regulus leaned back to stretch, he noticed James watching him differently, eyes soft, almost vulnerable. “What?” he asked, curiosity winning over irritation.

“Just wondering what you want for your hard-earned reward.”

“I– I thought you were teasing or like… I don’t know– lying about that.” Regulus stuttered.

“Don’t you know by now, Regulus,” he said with almost a whisper, “I don’t lie.”

Regulus swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked up at James, taking in every detail. His hair was dark, almost black, with loose, natural curls that framed his sharp, sculpted face and caught the light in a way that made the edges of his cheekbones glint. The strands fell slightly over his forehead, softening the intensity of his golden eyes, which gleamed like molten gold in the dim room. His skin, impossibly smooth and dark, seemed to shimmer faintly, the moonlight leaving a trace of glint that made it look as if he were dusted with starlight. Muscular yet elegant, every line of him looked deliberate, honed—a predator in repose, beautiful in a way that made Regulus’s breath catch. Even now, leaning just slightly toward him, James radiated a quiet power, a mixture of danger and allure that was impossible to look away from.

“James,” he whispered, the name barely more than a breath, yet it felt like a surrender.

“What is it? What do you want, Regulus?” His name sounded so sweet from his mouth.

“I want to taste you– kiss me.”

Before a second could pass, their lips met in a collision of hunger and need, and the air around them thickened. James’s hand came up to cup the side of Regulus’s face, thumb brushing lightly over his jaw, anchoring him as the kiss deepened. Regulus’s hands instinctively went to James’s chest, feeling the hard planes beneath the soft fabric of his shirt, a shiver running through him at the warmth and strength beneath his fingers.

James’s kiss was demanding yet careful, teasing and insistent, as if he had been holding back for far too long. Regulus responded in kind, leaning into the pressure, tasting the faint salt of James’s lips and the lingering trace of that intoxicating scent he could never forget. Every movement was slow, deliberate, a dance of tension and release, until the room seemed to shrink to just the two of them.

When they finally pulled back for air, James’s forehead rested against Regulus’s, his breath warm and ragged. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that,” he murmured, golden eyes darkened with need, a teasing smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Regulus swallowed, his own pulse racing. “Neither do you,” he whispered back, voice trembling between amusement and desire.

James tilted his head, lips brushing against Regulus’s ear. “Oh, I think I have a very good idea.”

The tension hung heavy, unspoken promises simmering in the space between them, and neither had the inclination to break it.

Ever since that night, James had made it a habit to clamber through Regulus’s window each evening, silent and effortless as always. Regulus had long stopped jumping in alarm; now he simply watched James appear in the corner of his room, leaning casually against the wall, hair curling slightly over his forehead, golden eyes glinting in the dim light.

Tonight was no different.  

James slipped through the window without a sound, as he always did, and Regulus didn’t even bother pretending to be startled anymore. He only glanced up once, catching the faint gleam of golden eyes in the dim light before returning to his notes.

“You know,” Regulus said evenly, pen scratching against the page, “most people would call this obsession.”

James smirked faintly from his place against the wall. “And yet, you leave the window open for me.”

Regulus didn’t dignify that with a response. He wrote a little longer, then set his pen down deliberately, swivelling in his chair. His dark eyes studied James with cool calculation. Regulus stood, smooth and deliberate, the tension in the air tightening with each step until he was chest to chest with James. 

For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then James tilted his chin up and kissed him, fierce and claiming.

Regulus groaned into his mouth, one hand shooting to cup the back of James’s neck, the other curling at his waist, pulling him closer. The kiss was fire—hungry, reckless, teeth grazing lips, tongues tangling until breath was scarce.

Somehow, they stumbled toward the bed, Regulus tugging James down with him. James landed half on top of him, his body solid, cool, and devastatingly close. Regulus’s fingers threaded into James’s curls, tugging sharply just to hear the low growl it pulled from his chest.

“You’re a menace,” James muttered against his mouth, the words muffled by the press of lips, almost swallowed in the heat of it. His complaint barely carried any conviction, not when his hand slid lower on Regulus’s waist, gripping hard, pulling him flush against his body.

Regulus smirked into the kiss, his own lips moving with lazy precision, biting down lightly on James’s bottom lip before dragging him back in. “You love it,” he whispered, voice smug, breaking just enough to leave his breath ghosting across James’s mouth.

James answered him not with words, but with a kiss rougher than the last, teeth clashing, a growl buried in his throat. His restraint slipped further, claws of hunger scraping against the surface of his control.

Hands roamed, impatient, exploratory. James’s fingers slid beneath the hem of Regulus’s shirt, skimming over hot skin, the coolness of his touch enough to make Regulus shiver and arch against him. Regulus shifted deliberately, pressing up against James’s thigh, and the sound it tore from James was closer to a snarl than anything human.

“Fuck,” James breathed, dragging his lips down Regulus’s jaw, teeth grazing along the sharp line before nipping at the base of his throat. His golden eyes, when they flicked back up, were darker, molten, edged with something dangerous and hungry.

Regulus, triumphant, let his hand wander, fingers toying with the top button of James’s shirt. He flicked it once, then let his nails scrape teasingly over the fabric. His lips curved into a smirk, the picture of shameless satisfaction. “Bet you’d look even better out of this.”

James froze for half a heartbeat, as though the words themselves had pulled a taut string inside him to its breaking point. His grip on Regulus’s hip tightened, almost bruising, and his breath came out uneven, ragged.

“Regulus…” His voice was low, a warning, yet his body betrayed him, leaning back into the kiss, into the touch.

Regulus pressed his advantage, mouth hot and insistent, his fingers tugging deliberately at the button until it slipped free. “Prove me wrong, then.”

James groaned, deep and raw, the sound vibrating against Regulus’s chest as his mouth devoured him again, hungrier now, fiercer, his restraint cracking.

The button slipped open beneath his touch.

The second button gave way easily, exposing the smooth, carved line of James’s chest beneath. Regulus’s hand slid lower, deliberate, nails scraping faintly over the muscle. James broke the kiss with a sharp inhale, forehead dropping to Regulus’s shoulder as if to anchor himself.

“Regulus…” His voice was more ragged this time, the sound vibrating against Regulus’s skin.

Regulus grinned, triumphant, tugging at the next button. “What’s wrong, Jamie? Scared?”

“Don’t,” James rasped, though his body trembled above him, every muscle pulled taut with restraint.

Regulus caught his chin, forcing him to look up. Their eyes locked, the dim golden light catching on sweat-slick lips, on James’s curls in disarray. “If you don’t want me, tell me. Otherwise…” He popped the third button, slow, intentional.

James’s eyes flashed, a storm of hunger and fear colliding in their depths. He caught Regulus’s wrist, grip gentle but unyielding. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“I think I do,” Regulus murmured, defiance glittering in his gaze. His free hand slid along James’s side, testing, teasing. “You’re the one afraid to admit it.”

The sound James made then was half-growl, half-moan, torn from the pit of his chest. He crashed their mouths together once more, kissing him like it might be the last time, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the press of lips and teeth and tongue. It was dizzying, brutal, perfect.

And then, as if struck by a lightning bolt, James tore himself back, chest heaving, lips swollen, eyes burning. He stumbled off the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice broken. “I can’t. Not with you. Not like this. I’ll hurt you.”

The sudden loss of contact where his body had been made Regulus shiver. He pushed himself up on his elbows, hair mussed, lips red, chest rising fast.

“You think I can’t handle it,” Regulus teased, ridiculous bravado trying to cover the ache. He let the words hang between them, daring, sharp.

James laughed once, but it was a sound with no humour. He kept his back turned to Regulus, fingers braced against his own forehead like he was holding some animal at bay. “It’s not that,” he said finally, voice small. “Believe me, I don’t doubt you. I just can’t trust myself. I don't always know my own strength. But god, Regulus, believe me, I want you. There’s just… more to it when it's someone like me.”

There was no theatrical drama in the admission. It was plain, terrible, honest. Regulus watched him—the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw worked, the tremor at the base of his throat—and felt something unspool inside him. This was not bravado to be baited with more kisses. This was a wound James carried, one Regulus had not earned but had stumbled into anyway.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his feet on the floor, coming up to kneel in front of James. The movement was deliberate, disarming. He reached out and, for the first time since the frantic kisses, let his fingers rest on James’s arm in a way that was steady and untested.

James flinched, then relaxed under the contact as if Regulus’s touch gave him permission to be small. His hands fell idle to his knees.

“You won’t hurt me,” Regulus said. His voice held no accusation. He had always been good at measuring things, at counting the weight of a moment. He let that carefulness do the work now. “You are not going to break me. Not by accident, not by intent. I won’t let you”

James stared at him, that molten hunger in his eyes fighting with the fear that had etched itself into the lines around them. “You don’t understand what it feels like,” he said. 

“The hunger is not a metaphor. It sits under my ribs. It claws. When I am near you—” He swallowed hard. “When I am near you, it is louder than reason. I could make a decision in a second that I would regret for a century.”

Regulus tilted his head. He saw the man then, not the shimmer or the impossible perfection, but the fracture. 

“Then give me rules,” he suggested without thinking. “Tell me how to help you. Tell me how we make this safe.”

James’s laugh was a rough thing, like gravel. “Rules? You want rules? You want conditions from me?” He looked almost incredulous, but his breath evened. There was a ragged hope in him now, the kind that arrives after a confession. 

“Fine,” James said, voice low. “No sudden moves. If I say stop, you stop. If I look like I’m going to lose it, we end it immediately. You have to tell me when to stop, too– if I hurt you. But—” he hesitated, then added, softer, “—don’t push me. Let me take the lead. I need to make sure I have control over myself too, you know”

Regulus considered each item as if weighing coins. They were simple, human things. He nodded. “I will say stop if it gets too much. I won’t push you into a place you can’t come back from.”

He reached up, fingers moving with new deliberation, and brushed a thumb across James’s cheek.

James closed his eyes at the touch and then, slowly, as if testing the water, leaned forward. His forehead pressed to Regulus’s, breath mingling. The proximity was ache-inducing in a different key now, less frantic and more tethering. He kissed Regulus again, gentle at first, as if cataloguing where pressure might be dangerous, how close he could come without tipping over.

Regulus matched him with a caution he had not expected to own. He felt how James shaped himself around restraint, how his hands hovered, wanting to take more but stopping as if pulled back by an internal leash. The kiss deepened but held, heat braided with deliberation. It was hungry and controlling and careful all at once, which made the tension between them new and sharper.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths shallow and cheeks flushed, James stayed draped over him in a loose, protective hold. The fear had not vanished, not for either of them, but the edges had been softened, mapped out in rules and promises and the small electrifying trust of a borrowed thumb against a cheek.

Regulus lay back down and stared at the fairy lights, letting them blink and blur until the edges of the room softened. The night hummed with ordinary noise—the distant splash of rain, the low rumble of a late car on the road—but between those mundane sounds, there was a new chord. It was fragile and dangerous, and it was theirs.

He thought, not for the first time, that loving James would mean learning to live on a blade. Not because James wanted to harm him, but because everything about him was edged. Regulus wasn’t sure whether he was brave enough for that. He only knew that he wanted to try.

“Good night, Reggie,” he whispered, the nickname soft as a vow.

Regulus smiled into the darkness. “Good night, Jamie.”

James was nervous. No, his heart wasn’t racing, nor was he profusely sweating, but that was because he was a vampire.

But he was nervous. He had a sickening feeling in his stomach, twisting together what was left of his frozen insides in a muddle. He was a mess.

Things had been getting serious with Regulus. More serious than he’d ever planned for, more serious than he’d thought he was capable of. He knew he wanted to finally introduce him to his family—he owed them that at least. Lily had figured it out first, of course. She always did. And once she knew, the rest of the family naturally followed.

His parents were happy for him. Euphemistically happy, the kind of gentle smiles and “that’s wonderful, darling” tone that sounded more like encouragement than actual approval. They adored James, yes, but they also adored safety, secrecy, the iron-clad security they had built for decades.

Not everyone took it so lightly.

Marlene had cornered him the night after Lily let it slip, eyes sharp and blazing in that way only she could manage.

“You’re joking, right?” she’d said, voice a half-whisper but sharp enough to cut glass. “Tell me you’re not stupid enough to let a human that close.”

James had shrugged, a little defensive, a little cocky. “He’s not just anyone.”

“That’s what terrifies me,” Marlene snapped back. “You’re risking all of us. For him.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d said something like that, and James knew it wouldn’t be the last. He hadn’t told her that Regulus already knew too much. That he’d seen the spark of his skin in sunlight, that he’d kissed him after. That he didn’t look at him like a monster.

But the truth was heavier than Marlene’s disapproval. James wanted him there. In the house. With them. He wanted to see Regulus in the living room where he’d spent his childhood, wanted to watch him roll his eyes at Sirius and Lily’s bickering over stupid movies, wanted to catch his hand under the table when no one else was looking. He wanted him woven into the fabric of his life, not dangling on the edge of it.

And yet…

James ran a hand through his hair, pacing his room for the hundredth time. What if Regulus hated them? What if they hated him? What if Marlene said something cruel and Regulus shut down, retreating into that icy shell he wore when he felt cornered?

What if introducing him was the first step in losing him?

James swallowed hard. He wasn’t used to fear. Not like this.

They were sprawled across Regulus’s bed. James lay on his side, propped on one elbow, watching him in that way that made Regulus want to fidget and bite back a sharp remark just to break the intensity.

“Reg,” James started, softer than usual. His voice had that low timbre that meant he was thinking too much.

Regulus glanced at him, cautious. “What?”

James hesitated. A rare thing. He always had something reckless to say, always a grin ready on his lips. But now his gaze flicked away, then back, golden eyes too open. “I want you to meet my family.”

Regulus froze, breath caught somewhere in his throat. “Your… family?” he repeated, tone flat, guarded.

“Yeah,” James said quickly, as though rushing before Regulus could shut down. “I’ve told them about you. Well, Lily figured it out, and then it wasn’t exactly a secret anymore. But they… they want to meet you. And I want them to. You’re—” He broke off, searching for the words, frustration flickering across his face. “You’re important to me. I don’t want to keep you separate from them.”

The silence stretched. Regulus sat up, pulling his knees close, wrapping his arms around them like he could fold himself in. “And what if they don’t like me?” he said finally, voice sharp to hide the crack in it.

James blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’re… you,” Regulus went on, biting the inside of his cheek. “Golden boy, charming, perfect son. You walk into a room, and people orbit you without even thinking. And then there’s me.” His mouth twisted. “Sullen, difficult, Black. Not exactly the kind of boy parents pin their hopes on.”

James pushed himself upright, frowning. “Reg, no. That’s not—”

“You don’t know that,” Regulus cut in, the words tumbling out faster than he liked. “You don’t know what they’ll think. Maybe they’ll decide I’m not good enough for you. And maybe they’ll be right.”

James reached out, fingers catching Regulus’s wrist before he could retreat further into himself. His touch was steady, grounding. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare think that.” His voice was firm now, almost fierce. “You don’t get to decide you’re not good enough for me. I’m the one who gets to decide, and I already have.”

Regulus swallowed, throat tight. “And what if your family decides for you?”

“They won’t,” James said simply. His eyes held Regulus’s with unwavering certainty, the kind that always made Regulus feel like standing still was the hardest thing in the world. “They might be loud, and nosy, and a little bit insane, but they’re mine. And I want you to be part of that too. If they don’t like you—which, for the record, is impossible—they’ll just have to deal with it.”

For a long moment, Regulus didn’t speak. The lamp buzzed faintly, a warm golden glow painting shadows across James’s sharp cheekbones. Finally, Regulus exhaled, almost a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” James admitted, leaning closer, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth. “But I’m right.”

Regulus shook his head, but his lips betrayed him with the smallest curl of a smile.

The Potter house was loud in a way Regulus wasn’t prepared for. He had thought he knew noise—his parents’ could be full of sharp-edged conversations, voices raised in argument, heavy footsteps echoing through long halls. But this wasn’t that.

It sat at the edge of the woods, slightly removed from the nearest road, framed by tall trees that caught the fading light of the day in their leaves. Wide glass windows stretched across the front of the house, floor-to-ceiling panes that reflected the world outside instead of concealing what was within. The house breathed openness and light, as though it had nothing to hide.

Where Black family estates were characterised by harsh angles and suffocating grandeur, this was sleek, modern, and warm—clean lines, pale wood, steel accents that glimmered under the sun. The architecture was striking, unapologetic, designed to invite nature in rather than shut it out. Even from outside, Regulus could see through those vast windows to the glowing interior, where golden light spilt over bookshelves and brushed across high ceilings.

The front steps led to a heavy oak door, polished but not ostentatious, and James pushed it open without hesitation.

Inside, the contrast with Grimmauld Place only deepened. The air was fresh, carrying faint notes of pine and something faintly floral. Sunlight filtered through every inch of the room, dancing over pale walls and polished wood floors. An entire wall of windows overlooked the trees outside, the greenery spilling into the space as though it belonged.

The living room opened into a wide, airy kitchen, its surfaces gleaming but lived-in, with a bowl of fruit on the counter and mugs left out as if someone had just been there. Books were stacked in artful chaos, records leaned against a shelf, and framed photos of smiling faces lined the walls. This wasn’t just a house. It was a home—full of noise, of laughter, of belonging.

For Regulus, who had grown up in a place that had always felt more like a mausoleum than a refuge, the contrast was dizzying. He couldn’t stop the prickle of unease that crawled under his skin. The openness, the brightness, the evidence of a family who lived without fear—it was beautiful, yes, but it was alien.

James, though, looked utterly at ease. He dropped his keys in a bowl by the door, ruffled his curls, and shot Regulus a grin that was meant to be reassuring.

James stood beside him at the threshold, almost too casual, like he wasn’t vibrating with nerves under his skin. He brushed their shoulders together, a fleeting touch. “Ready?” he murmured.

Regulus arched a brow, voice dry. “To be thrown to the wolves? Absolutely.”

“Oi,” James muttered, lips twitching. “They’re not that bad.”

The moment the door swung wider, a voice called, “James! You’re late.” Lily stood in the hallway, hands on her hips, hair pulled back in a messy bun. She grinned when she saw Regulus, eyes bright with something that looked suspiciously like triumph. “So this is him.”

Regulus’s spine stiffened automatically. Her tone wasn’t mocking, not quite, but there was too much knowing in it. He hated being studied.

“Yeah,” James said quickly, nudging him forward. “This is Reg.”

“Regulus Black,” Lily said, as though testing the sound of it. She stuck out her hand without hesitation. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Have you,” Regulus said evenly, slipping his cool hand into hers. Her grip was firm, steady, entirely too confident.

“Don’t look so terrified,” she teased. “We don’t bite.”

A voice called from deeper in the house: “Lily, stop scaring the poor boy!” Euphemia Potter appeared next, wiping her hands on a tea towel. Her dark hair streaked with silver framed a face far kinder than Regulus had expected. She smiled warmly, though there was a sharpness in her eyes that suggested nothing escaped her. “Come in, dear. We don’t keep guests standing in doorways.”

“Not a guest,” James muttered, a little too fast.

Regulus glanced at him, but James just gave him a lopsided grin, like it was obvious.

Inside, the chaos was worse. Alice was perched cross-legged on the arm of the sofa, Frank beside her, laughing at something Marlene had just said. Marlene herself lounged with studied carelessness, eyes already flicking to Regulus like she’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“Ah,” she said, smirking. “So it’s true.”

James shot her a look sharp enough to wound, but Marlene only lifted her glass and took a slow sip.

Fleamont was the last to appear, coming from the kitchen with a tray of tea. His presence was quieter than Euphemia’s, but no less commanding. His eyes swept over Regulus in a measured glance before he set the tray down and clapped James on the shoulder. “About time you brought him by.”

Heat crept into Regulus’s cheeks despite himself. He hated that.

The introductions blurred together after that. Names, nods, polite words layered over the sound of Lily and Frank already sparring verbally in the background, over Alice’s easy laugh, over the clink of cups on saucers. Regulus found himself cornered on the sofa between James and Lily, the former radiating nervous energy, the latter practically interrogating him under the guise of friendly chatter.

Marlene hadn’t stopped watching him.

Marlene was different. She hadn’t been rude, not directly, but her words had carried weight, sharp in a way no one else’s were.

“You know what’s at stake, James,” she had said, her voice calm but cutting, eyes locked on him across the table. “If people find out what we are—what you are—it doesn’t just put you at risk. It puts all of us at risk.”

“Marls,” Euphemia said gently, though there was a warning under the softness. “Enough for now.”

“I’m only saying what everyone’s thinking,” Marlene replied, but she leaned back, swallowing whatever else she’d meant to add.

Regulus felt James tense beside him, his hand tightening subtly on the arm of his chair. He said nothing in reply, though his jaw flexed once before he forced a smile.

“James,” Euphemia cut in smoothly, her voice brightening, “why don’t you show Regulus around the house? I think he’d enjoy it.”

James glanced at his mother, something grateful flickering in his golden eyes, then turned back to Regulus. “What do you say? Want the tour?”

Regulus arched an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” James said with a crooked grin, already standing.

They wove through the house, past polished floors and impossibly tall windows, past walls adorned with photographs and mementoes that spoke of a family caught in time but desperate to appear ordinary.

When they reached the landing upstairs, James pushed open a door to a wide, open room. Regulus stepped inside, and his gaze was immediately caught by one of the walls.

Dozens of black square caps were mounted in neat rows, stretching upward like a mosaic. Graduation caps. Hundreds of them.

Regulus blinked, taken aback. “That’s… not unsettling at all.”

James smirked, following his gaze. “Keeps track of how many times I’ve done this whole thing. School, graduation, we matriculate a lot. Helps us fit in, and the younger we start out in a place, the longer we can stay.”

Regulus stared a moment longer, a hundred questions stirring at the back of his throat, but James had already moved past, opening the door at the end of the hall.

“This one’s mine.”

The room was wide, light pouring in through a bank of windows. Shelves of books lined one wall, a record player sat in the corner beside teetering stacks of vinyl, and an armchair faced the glass. It was warm, lived-in, and cluttered in the way James always seemed to be.

But there was one thing missing.

Regulus frowned, turning a slow circle. “No bed?”

James shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “No. Seems pointless if we don’t sleep.”

Regulus blinked at him. For a moment, he’d actually forgotten—forgotten that James couldn’t. He’d grown so accustomed to drifting off against James’s chest, lulled by the steady stillness of him, that it was jarring to be reminded that James never closed his eyes, never needed to.

A flicker of warmth passed through him, quickly smothered under a familiar veil of sarcasm. “Huh. Guess you’re right. Still, it’s weird.”

Leaving James by the door, Regulus wandered toward the corner where a record player sat atop a stack of vinyl. A soft, jangling guitar line hummed quietly from the speakers, Morrissey’s mournful croon drifting through the air. Regulus leaned over, glancing at the sleeve propped open.

“The Smiths,” he said dryly, lips curling. “Of course,” he rolled his eyes, “how predictable.”

James groaned, pushing off the frame and crossing the room toward him. “Oh, come on, they’re classic.”

“They’re depressing,” Regulus shot back, though his tone was light, teasing. He tapped the sleeve with one long finger, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “This is exactly the kind of thing I’d expect you to listen to. Given your little Radiohead kink. Broody vampire and all that.”

James narrowed his golden eyes at him, mock-offended. “Broody? I’ll have you know, I’m the least broody person in this family.”

Regulus raised a brow, gaze flicking over him in deliberate exaggeration. “Uh-huh. The hair, the eyes, the self-depracation, the Smiths on vinyl… very convincing.”

He turned back toward the record player, fingers ghosting over the buttons. Despite all his mockery, despite the smug commentary about James’s “predictable” taste, he pressed play again. The needle caught with a soft crackle, Morrissey’s voice blooming once more into the room, plaintive and rich.

James tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “See? You pretend to hate it, but you secretly like that I’m predictable.”

Regulus didn’t answer right away. He leaned against the table, arms crossed, watching James with that infuriatingly unreadable expression he’d perfected. Then, with a slow shrug, he said, “Maybe I just like watching you get defensive about your music.”

Regulus drifted toward the wide windows, the pale curtains shifting in the soft breeze. The glass stretched from floor to ceiling, opening out onto an endless sprawl of trees that bled into shadowed valleys and then climbed again into the jagged line of mountains in the distance. At night, with the moon spilling silver across the world, it looked almost unreal — like stepping into a painting.

He pressed his palms to the cool glass, leaning slightly, lips parting without him even realising, “it’s… beautiful.”

James moved to his side, shoulder brushing his. He was grinning, of course, but there was a glint in his eyes, mischievous and reckless. “You want to see it properly?”

Regulus arched a brow. “I am seeing it.”

“Not like I can show you,” James said, and his grin sharpened. “Unless you’re scared.”

Regulus turned fully then, dark eyes narrowing, that Black family pride snapping back into place. “I don’t scare easily, Potter.”

James leaned in, close enough that Regulus could feel his breath. “Hold on tight then.”

Before Regulus could demand what he meant, James’s arms were around him, strong and sure, and then—

The floor was gone.

He couldn’t even breathe for a second, the shock of movement stealing it from him. Instinctively, his arms locked tighter around James’s shoulders, his legs gripping his sides.

“James—!”

James only laughed, wild and free, the sound carried away by the rushing wind.

And then, impossibly, they landed. Silent, steady, as if it had all been nothing.

Regulus cracked one eye open and realised they were perched high on a canopy, the bark rough beneath where his hand braced instinctively. The drop stretched dizzyingly below, the forest rolling out like an endless ocean of green, each treetop shimmering under the light. But it was the horizon that stole his breath.

The mountains loomed in the distance, carved out of the earth like colossal guardians. Jagged peaks clawed toward the sky, their crowns still dusted with snow that glistened under the sun. The slopes split down in a patchwork of pine and stone, rivers of silver glinting as they cut through the valleys like veins of light. Further along, the ridges softened into rolling hills bathed in sunlight, where meadows broke through the tree line in swathes of gold and wildflowers. Clouds drifted lazily, caught on the edges of the tallest peaks, casting shadows that moved slowly, like living things.

The air was sharp and clear, tinged with pine and something cool and mineral that caught in his lungs. It smelled like untouched earth, ancient and unyielding.

Regulus felt impossibly small, perched there above it all, and impossibly alive.

James shifted beneath him, solid and unshaken, as if the dizzying height and fragile perch were nothing more than standing on his own bedroom floor. His golden eyes caught the sunlight and seemed to burn brighter than the peaks themselves.

Regulus knew he could get used to this.