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The library was quiet when James arrived, and with his arrival, it probably wouldn’t stay that way any longer. His mission did not care for the younger or older years studying their lives away behind scriptures bigger than morally acceptable. Because he was on the hunt for someone.
He walked to the table he knew Regulus would be at—the one closest to the window with the view of the Great Lake and furthest from everyone else. And there he was, black hair only visible as a book took up most of his face, with how Regulus practically buried himself into it.
A smile came quickly to James’ lips and the rush of everything struck as the other noticed him.
“There you are, love of my life, the brightest star in the sky—”
Regulus put the book down. “It’s not the brightest.”
James’ smile still tugged at the corners of his mouth as he sat beside him. “So you admit I’m the love of your life?”
“We’ve been dating for two months,” Regulus stated. Though that crinkle beside his eyes betrayed the monotone facade of his voice.
“And five days. Officially.”
“Keep this up and that’s all this will get to.”
James grinned at him. He welcomed that warming dip in his stomach as Regulus gave him the usual bite of his words, with the venom he knew was only there to encourage him on. It was what he loved—almost the most—about the other. Their exchanges and way of simply being. The back-and-forth, giving and taking, no moment of peace unless a yawn in the night took its fighting place.
“What?” Regulus narrowed his eyes and those eyes. A grey without light and green with its shine.
Regardless of the colour, whatever it was in this moment was James’s favourite. It was easy to forget his Gryffindor pride of red and gold, or his growing like of the dark green from the rivalling House that had stolen his heart. Because it was this. The shade that glared at him. Yet, the smile Regulus failed to hide ruined his attempt.
“What?” Regulus repeated, face all scrunched up.
James only continued to stare, implementing the sight so it would remain in memory.
“You admitted we’re dating,” he eventually said. “It’s not a fling, messing around in secret, or Merlin forbid some light fornication—”
“Never say that again,” Regulus spat out, redness crawling up his face. James leaned in closer, still grinning, enthralled by those eyes and the freckled constellation brimming on his skin.
He laughed, ducking his head in an attempt to get even closer over the table.
“I’m serious, James!”
“Oh, are you now?”
The tightness in his chest expanded as he continued to laugh. More red flushed on Regulus’ cheeks, bringing red to those incomplete constellations that James only wanted to meet the lines of with his fingertips.
“Shut up!”
Red may be James’ new favourite colour again.
“Just, shh.” Regulus smothered James’ mouth with his hand, pushing him away, despite sharing in his laughter.
James let it linger for a moment before kissing the other’s palm. Regulus yelped and let go, glaring with no heat yet again. Then, in their small silence, Regulus reached over and grabbed James’ hands.
“You’re insufferable.”
“Am I?” James asked, head tilted. “You could’ve used some silencing charm but instead you wanted to touch me.”
“Infuriating,” Regulus added as he gripped onto James tighter. Keeping their hands open on the table, keeping them there. “Absolutely hopeless.”
“Hopelessly infatuated with you,” he said. “See, I can use big words too.”
“I should really stage an intervention on why me being mean doesn’t deter you one bit,” Regulus said, shaking his head. “Remus will be my defence lawyer. Barty’s banned and my brother isn’t invited, he’ll use it as an excuse to dress up.”
James found himself agreeing, but then brushed light strokes onto Regulus’ hand. “Is it so hard to believe I just like you?”
His words seemed to strike a chord in the other.
Regulus paused, adjusting his hold so a coldness skimmed past James’ skin. The quick sting of Regulus’ silver rings. But James knew this hesitation, that look his boyfriend tried to hide. James had lived it before, when the proclaimed sun of the group took his title literally and reclined in on himself, letting the dark fill the sky and his head.
“Reg,” James started, quieter, “you do know—”
“I know,” Regulus quickly said. It was just as soft, though still with an edge to it. “I know, Jamie.”
A hit punched at his chest, the race in his heartbeat that always accompanied the use of that nickname.
“I just...” Regulus trailed off and James jumped to finish it.
He nodded, knowing no words were needed.
Sure, James didn’t quite get it, not to his own experience. Love, for him, came to him as naturally as breathing. It was easy for him to fall in love, and when he did, he fell quick and hard.
Though, it wasn’t the same with Regulus, who had walls upon walls built in defence only but once broken in let the love pour. James had only managed to crack at these said walls so far, it beginning all those nights ago at the Astronomy Tower when Regulus figured out James had been lying about needing help with his homework this entire time just to be in his presence.
But what mattered was that he understood.
He saw the differences between them and adjusted, realising when to stop. The day he understood this was also the moment he knew what a first kiss with Regulus Arcturus Black was like—heavenly—then what a smack round the head was like, for which he apparently deserved for lying all this time.
An actual hit to his head brought him out of his thoughts.
“Ow, what was that for?” James scowled across the table.
Regulus rolled his eyes, looking more at ease now, and smiling again.
“You have Potions, you’ll be late if you stay.”
He did not think that deserved a book to the skull.
“And is that such a bad thing?”
Regulus’ smile became more real. “If you get detention, we can’t meet later.”
James sighed, that was true. He loved those evenings, just the two of them meeting at the Astronomy Tower for tradition's sake. Away from peering eyes, allowed to do anything. His eyes flickered down to Regulus’ lips and he sighed again.
“Fine! Fine, I’ll go, I see I’m not wanted here.”
“I’ll see you later.” Regulus leaned over and kissed James’ cheek.
Warmth encased him whole. He smiled and dashed quickly to kiss him on the lips too, then on the cheek and other cheek and—
“James, you’ll be late,” Regulus weakly protested, allowing one more peck to his cheekbone before pushing James away. “And you forgot your glasses.”
He frowned until Regulus grabbed them from his bag—ah, he had left them in Regulus’ dorm last night. He reached to pick them up, yet Regulus did it for him and slotted the pair onto James’ face.
More warmth spread as Regulus’ touch lingered with the press of his fingertips on his nose.
“Now go,” Regulus said with a final shove because they both knew James would stay there, feet stuck to the floor if it meant he could stare at Regulus smiling at him like that for even just a second longer.
As he left, he wasn’t embarrassed to say there was a slight skip to his step. He couldn’t help it, he just felt... light. He loved it, loved him.
And he didn’t let bumping into the older brother of his boyfriend ruin this lightness. Though, Sirius would never, due to the document he made James sign as to never intentionally hurt Regulus in their relationship or he had full permission to prank him for the rest of the school year.
“Padfoot, you’re going the wrong way, we have Slughorn.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m going this way.”
James grabbed his arm and pulled him with him along the corridor, despite Sirius’ objection. “If I have to endure Sluggy, so do you.”
Sirius continued to try to pull away from him and James almost caved the minute he realised it was the class they shared with Slytherin. Realisation courtesy of the greasy head-of-hair currently walking in front of them, that being Severus Snape.
He kept out of the Slytherin’s path, not wanting this lightness he quite liked feeling to sour because of any interaction with Snape. But as they reached the doors of the classroom, the boy turned, not letting the two of them enter.
“Snivels, what do you want?” James groaned.
“That’s a new one,” Sirius remarked, not minding the delay in entering Potions.
“Yeah, thought Snivellus was a bit overdone.” James turned back to Snape. "Look, if this is about wanting to be Lily's Potions partner, I haven't been it in literal years. She's not taken by me so she's all up for grabs, but it's not my fault if she decides to grab and fling you off into the Great Lake."
“Might suit yourself with the shower,” Sirius added.
Snape stood there, silently, which probably meant Snape was there to pester James yet again about Lily.
Sighing, he brushed past Snape.
Yet with his second step, a pinch stung his back. His hand clutched at Sirius’ shoulder to keep balance. But a moment later it fleeted. James looked back, scowling as Snape tucked his wand back into his pocket.
“You alright?” Sirius asked.
James squinted, standing back up straight. The pain had gone, but there was still something wrong. They went to their usual table in the class before James spoke again.
“I think,” he began, “I think Snape just hexed me.”
“What?” Sirius blurted out with sudden anger. It was controlled on his face but his voice bargained for action. James kept him in place, stopping him from chasing Snape across the classroom and doing something neither would actually regret (but maybe would when it came to punishment).
“It did nothing, don’t worry,” he tried to console, even though this nothing still felt off. “We can prank him for it later—”
“You don’t have horns growing out of your head then? No sudden hair loss?” Sirius moved with haste to check, fussing with his hands and ruffling up his hair just to be sure.
“No,” James insisted, his ears reddening at the sudden attention of the whole class as Sirius resumed checking. “Nothing.”
Sirius wasn't so convinced and pulled at his hair again.
"Padfoot! I am not bald," he whisper-shouted.
“Might be a confusion hex then.” Sirius raised up his hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
James scoffed as many more fingers appeared to grow on Sirius’ hand. “Dickhead, you tried to pull that same charm on Peter last night.”
“And he believed it!”
“He was sleep-deprived,” James defended, but then he shrugged, agreeing because it was Peter.
Sobriety afflicted Sirius, for a brief moment. “You sure you’re fine though? Snape might have just done one that didn’t work.”
“Just got a bit cold," James answered, but the coldness was weird. It wasn't like the winds that bit at his skin when flying on his broom during Quidditch or the harsh breeze that the height of the Astronomy Tower frequently brought.
This wasn't temperature. It was something else.
“It’s what you get for giving my brother your jumper," Sirius said.
“He likes the fabric!” James squawked out.
“I will throw up."
“Payback for having to watch you and Moony pin over each other for literal years," he quipped back, timing it perfectly as Remus walked into the class and made his way over to them.
"You two were talking about me," Remus accused, but the suddenly smitten expression on Sirius' face was enough evidence anyone needed.
"Only about how hot you looked last—”
Remus shut him up with a single look.
Just as James went to greet him, Professor Slughorn—now at his desk—silenced the class and readied them for whatever the next hours would torture them with. He was quick to call everyone to surround his own cauldron, James not missing how his two friends held hands as they walked over.
"I need a volunteer to demonstrate the effects of today's potion," Slughorn called and as usual, no one volunteered. (Last week's volunteer ended up passing out due to a very strong Draught of Living Death).
"Mr Black! Perfect," Slughorn gestured for Sirius to come forward despite Sirius not even putting his hand up.
Regardless, Sirius stepped up and glared down at the cauldron.
"For this class, we'll be attempting a powerful one since it's your seventh year, and to peak your interest, it's a love potion. Amortentia, distinct for its aroma and creation of infatuation and obsession." The more Slughorn went on, the less Sirius seemed to want to be standing there .
“Now, Mr Black, what do you smell?”
James watched as Sirius reluctantly stepped closer. Only, Sirius took one deep sniff and kept on sniffing, making a show out of it. Sirius waved his hand close to his face, probably imitating what his family members did at those parties he finally got out of when they wanted to feel the aroma of wine.
Then, Sirius gasped. “I’ve come to the realisation, professor,” he paused. “It seems I have an appetite for blokes.”
“You’re dating one, Pads,” James called out, grinning as Sirius gasped yet again.
“Not for long,” Remus muttered, amused when Sirius clutched his chest, feigning injury.
“Thank you for the grand revelation, Mr Black. Does anyone else want to come up and be more helpful?”
James didn't pay attention to the other student; he was too busy chuckling to himself as Sirius moved over to Remus. Probably to explain what he smelt, due to Remus going red and muttering back something about Sirius’ obsession with his own shampoo now making sense.
Before he knew it everyone started moving, walking over to assigned cauldrons and opening books to a certain page. James recoiled as someone tapped his shoulder. He turned and Lily stood beside him.
“You have no idea why I’m next to you, do you?” she asked, entertained, especially when he unashamedly shook his head, agreeing. “We’re partners for today, try not to mess it up.”
“Oh, Evans, I would never—”
“Just do as I say and you won’t be having to scrape black gunk from the ceiling again like last week.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he stated. "And that wasn't my fault! Remus started hitting me with a towel and I only had to defend my honour."
"By throwing Sopophorus beans at him until he tackled you to the floor?"
"I know you have this pact with Moony that he can do no wrong ever but that whipping towel hurt," James grumbled as Lily chuckled and led him to their cauldron.
He tried to stick to what the book's instructions (and mostly Lily's own word), though he almost lost a finger to his cutting knife too many times to count.
Eventually, the two were finished.
“Does it work?” James asked after Lily finished smelling it.
It took a moment for whatever she smelt to register. Then her cheeks became flustered.
“Yep,” she quickly said, eyes going over to the other side of the classroom. “Yep, it works.”
James frowned, then followed her gaze over to Mary Macdonald, who was busy stirring her own potion. His eyes went wide at the realisation. “Lily Evans!”
“Shut up, shut it, do not speak of this ever.”
“Cross over my heart, I won’t,” he said, mimicking the action. Yet, he faltered as the touch didn't land on his chest. He looked down, confused because his finger was on his chest, touching the clothes between his skin and his heart. But he didn't feel the touch.
“Your turn now, you smell it," Lily said, interrupting his own confusion.
He shrugged it off and leant forward. James prepared himself for something strong, to wince back and plug his nose because with him, love fought battles. It was enduring, competitive. A committed force on the border of becoming obsessive. But it came very close to it, because what was life without love? So surely that would be a strong scent.
But with his lean, there was nothing. He frowned and moved closer because maybe he was too far away, or newly ill with a blocked nose. Yet, he wasn't sick, he was fine, but obviously not because he couldn't fucking smell anything.
With a potion of love, it was destined, written in the way James lived, that he should smell an ounce of something.
"Are you sure it works?" he muttered, quietly in case anyone heard.
Lily's face furrowed. She leant to check again, and from just the peace that seemed to ease along her face at a single inhale, the potion worked.
“It’s okay if you smell multiple people or things, it’s supposed to mimic things you’re attracted to, and maybe platonic love comes under it so if you smell some dog hairs, I’m not entirely surprised.”
Lily's comment didn't bring any comfort because it was empty. No smell of home, his friends, of Regulus.
He tried to think, attempting to find anything that might be lost in the aroma of the room. Things that reminded him of Regulus but—
Why couldn't he remember what Regulus smelt like?
It was so vivid earlier in the library, as Regulus kissed his cheek and James returned it in full force, he must've been close, easy to get a scent of his cologne that smelt of...
Nothing.
A lodge formed in his throat as his head ached. He ached to search, to find anything. Sweat clung to his neck. James tugged at his collar to loosen it but as his hand went to do so, he couldn't feel it. His fingers grazed upon his chest and yet there was no sensation.
Why the fuck couldn't he feel anything? Not a pull of a scent reminding him of the love he knew he felt—the fondness he had with Regulus, the softness with his friends and gratitude for their company. But now, he pulled at strings until the only warmth that burned him was the rope burns in his head.
It was muted. And he couldn't stand the quiet.
“James?” Lily's voice broke him out of it.
He flinched away from the cauldron and cleared his throat.
“I smell Reg,” he whispered, scared to raise his voice too much in case it broke. Because he was panicking, the only heartbeat he sensed was a hammering of fear, not love or passion. He was scared because he couldn't smell his boyfriend, the boy he loved, or anyone he loved. Why- why can't he—
“Surprise, surprise,” she responded, teasing. "Any specifics?”
His throat constricted, that lodge making it impossible to swallow. Because there weren't any specifics. There wasn't a single thing to begin with. No essence to name, no flower or herb, nothing that stuck out to him.
It was on the tip of his tongue, something he should know. Something so familiar, that he smelt every time he used his invisibility cloak to sneak into Regulus' dorm just to hold him at night. His chin nudged into the other's neck, hands clutched around him. A smell lingering with a kiss to his hair, nose close to whatever shampoo Regulus used or cologne on his wrists. Fucking- even the special detergent Regulus requested the elves use on his clothes only.
But he could recall none of it.
Instead, he cleared his throat again and plastered on a smile.
“Now, that’s a bit personal, isn’t it Evans?” he remarked, and waited . Hoping it was enough so she wouldn't look down to see how badly his hands shook.
Lily scoffed and shoved at his shoulder, believing that smile and taunt.
He felt eyes on him from across the room, only for it to be Snape. Just staring. Grinning, almost smug. James pressed his hand against his chest again, only to feel nothing once more.
It had to be Snape then. His spell or hex, it did something. It was that. James was fine. Nothing was wrong except a bit of mix-up of magic.
For the rest of the lesson, he tried not to think too deeply about it. If he pondered any longer, that sinking feeling inside would only wrench him down further. He'd fall. Because if he couldn't smell this, did that mean he couldn't really feel it? His crush on Evans, it came with a realisation that this crush wasn't a love of her, but an idealised version that clung to an image he had in his head. It was idealised love, something not entirely real.
So, what if, what if he couldn't feel actual—
Stop.
And he did. James took a long breath, it wavering as that lodge just kept expanding down his throat. Then he stopped.
He’d interrogate Snape after class.
Snape practically ran out of the classroom and James couldn’t find him for the rest of the day, Peter having possession of the map for today.
So he kept it to himself with a hanging hope that maybe it would go away. The feeling would come back. This same hope circled through his head as he waited at the Astronomy Tower for Regulus.
Normally, the fullness of the sky and every tale it told in invisible lines between stars comforted him. Though, with an emptiness following his every move, the fullness only mocked.
He also hoped that being here, at the Tower, would make him feel something again. Memories encased every brick of his surroundings, of evenings with Regulus, tucked tight beside him with warming charms when both forgot their coats.
But he couldn't remember Regulus' touch.
It stung more than the cold wind against him to have that realisation.
Just as brisk as the fleeting hurt, a force brushed against his shoulder. An arm curled around him, stopping at his neck. He didn't have to turn to know it was Regulus.
He smiled, though it was tense. Tight on his lips because what he feared came true: the touch didn't feel normal. There was no rush, no fulfilment and completion that advanced through every fibre of his being at just the presence of the boy he loved.
James still had the want to grab him and plant kisses all over the boy's face until Regulus laughed too hard that it tickled. But no warmth occupied this desire, no fluttering of his heart nor pressure from his chest.
It was weird. And it terrified him.
Still, he relaxed into Regulus' arm. He rested his cheek against him, even if it was different than usual. He clung to the sanguine thought that maybe it was the winter air around them.
“How was Potions? Dorcas told me Slughorn made your class brew something special," Regulus asked, voice so soft the breeze almost picked it up.
Dread filled him, but he let it sink.
James twisted round, taking Regulus' hand into his own and drawing him close. “My, my, is someone interested in love potions?”
Regulus glared light-heartedly. “I don’t need love potions."
“That is very, very true. You are enough as it is,” James said, smiling because hours prior, he would believe his words. Yet, his smile twisted as the words tasted sour in his mouth.
“I am curious though,” Regulus admitted with an inkling of a smile.
There was a gleam in his eyes that James’ knees would normally grow weak for. But Regulus’ admittance brought that sunken dread back to the surface, where water clawed at his mouth and yearned for him to drown . Because he knew what Regulus was about to ask, the question of what one smelt from a love potion.
“Of course I smelt you." James lied through his teeth until they chattered. It stung to lie, more so than the bite of the cold. Since this normally would be true, if the class were any earlier in the year or even the day, it would've been Regulus. At the core of it, the centre of his desire.
But something changed.
Regulus’ smile widened, either with confidence or relief, it was wide. That sickness returned deep inside James. His words weren't true. But they should be. He loved Regulus, loved him entirely, yet his heart betrayed him.
“Good.”
Regulus leant forward and lips met with his own.
James smiled into it, waiting for the sensation he could clutch to because surely, whatever had changed couldn't take this away from him. Kissing Regulus never dulled nor ceased to make him melt. There was never a moment where that surge of heat didn't bring breathless to his chest and a hammering of everything that made him bleed. It was always soft. Even when bites came or tugs with a newfound rush. Soft from little pecks, ones exchanged sleepily at night when neither could sleep, to the long kisses that kept going and going because they'd both would rather get as close to the other as possible than breathe.
But as his lips parted, breathing in everything Regulus poured into him, no heat sated him.
There was no rush, no pull to keep taking more. He gripped at Regulus' waist, hands clasping at his back as the kiss deepened, hoping, pleading, that this was just a setback. Maybe he needed to be closer to feel it, to feel him. It was just the cold air, please let it just be that.
So he parted for only a second, just to look Regulus in the face. To bathe in that breathlessness he so desperately wanted to share. He stared down at the smile taking over Regulus' lips and dove to capture them one more time.
Regulus' chest rumbled with laughter as James kissed along his jaw. Hands gripped at his shirt but the problem was back. He couldn't feel Regulus' hands, couldn't feel them press against him, at the skin protecting his heart. Just like earlier when he couldn't smell his own boyfriend in a love potion.
He ripped away from him, standing back. James' teeth gritted as Regulus made a confused noise at the back of his throat.
Normally, there wasn't this silence in his head when he was with Regulus. No peace came because Regulus was a force to be heard. It was the chaos of loving Regulus Black, a madness he adored. This chaos brought a knocking against his heart, touching every bone in his body and cracking at his soul.
Yet, a quiet loomed in his head. A muted tone of something numb. Cold. It was colder than the wind from the open window of the Astronomy Tower.
The coldness was him.
“Why’d you stop?” Regulus mumbled, reaching over to grab him again.
And James didn’t know. He didn't know what was wrong with him, why he couldn’t feel this anymore, feel anything as the love of his life entwined his arms around his neck and brought him close. Regulus kissed the tip of his nose and he couldn’t feel a fucking thing.
“Sorry, I just...”
Bitterness bled onto his tongue, swallowing any words. Drowning any quick remark or joke that a James who wasn't immune to love would say. Nothing came to mind because there was nothing there. A loneliness in the shadow of a chilling quiet that he was quick to hate.
“You’re freezing,” Regulus said, hands coming to brush at his neck.
“I might be coming down with something," he muttered, words lost to him.
“I’ll take you to Pomfrey then." Regulus' eyebrows creased like they always did when he didn't know how to voice concern. “She might even give you a lolly since she loves you.”
Love.
The mention of it made the cold inside him freeze over. But he followed Regulus anyway, holding onto his hand. Quiet as he hated how the only touch he could feel was the sting from Regulus' silver rings and not the warmth those palms usually brought.
Poppy Pomfrey found that James was completely fine. She only reprehended him for not wearing a coat during his night escapades.
Then, with the hour late enough, he departed from Regulus and decided to sleep on it.
He woke up, that hope rising up his throat again as that lodge seemed to misplace itself. James went to breakfast with Sirius, met the others there, and listened. He listened to their normal conversations of prodding at the other and still struggling to be awake at this hour waiting for a familiar warmth to fill him.
Though, Regulus eating across the hall distracted him from Sirius' usual morning complaints. Regulus looked well-rested, he was shaking his head at something Evan had said. There was a smile on his face.
James' hope became fleeting once more as he realised this smile was not shared with himself. No butterflies kicking at him for seeing Regulus beam his way when he noticed his eyes on him. It was the special smile that took months for James to finally see in public, when it wasn't only the two of them at night. And now it was... dull.
“Prongs, did that porridge kill your family or something?” Remus snapped his fingers to catch his attention.
He blinked, newly confused before realising his gaze had dipped down to his food rather than Regulus across the hall.
“It’s porridge, I won’t be surprised if murder was on its list of crimes as well as tasting like shit,” Sirius said.
“You used to like porridge,” Remus said back.
“With blueberries on it,” Peter added, remembering their first year.
“That was before you introduced me to my greatest love Pumpkin Pasties.”
“Oh, so a pastry is your greatest love now?” Remus asked.
Sirius gave him a look, then leant closer, smiling at being so close to the other. Then nodded, “Yep. Pastries.”
Remus shoved him away with his hand to Sirius' face, causing him to yelp and those around him to laugh.
James watched but didn’t laugh. He couldn't rejoice in his friend’s relationship, in their happiness that he was glad they finally had found and welcomed. And he didn’t know why.
He knew why though.
His eyes sought one person at the other end of the Slytherin table. Snape. Snape, met his gaze and moved quickly to exit the hall.
James jumped up out of his seat. “I’ll see you lads in Transfiguration." He heard them call after him, something about how he hadn't eaten, but the pounding in his ears disregarded it all.
He followed Snape into an empty corridor. Rushing forward, he dug his wand under Snape's chin, digging it into his skin, and pinning him against the wall.
“The fuck did you do to me?” he demanded.
“Potter, get your filthy mitts off me!"
“These filthy mitts will do so much more if you don’t tell me what you did."
“I don’t know what—”
“Yesterday!” James didn't realise he had shouted until it echoed against the corridor walls. “You shot a spell at me yesterday, a hex or something. You did this to me.”
“Did what?” Snape still had that smug look on his face and James saw red.
His wand dug deeper into Snape's skin, raising his chin even more.
“What was it?” he hissed.
That pinch at his neck was back, the sting spreading downwards. He felt something for once.
Anger, heat that wasn't a glow but instead a blaze that burned him. It wasn't mellow, not like the warmth of Regulus' hands, or what it felt like when wisps of his hair brushed against James' cheek.
“It's a revealing charm," Snape bit out with that wand still digging, bruising his skin.
His teeth gritted. “I don’t believe you.”
"I assume the effects have already exposed you then?" Snape let out a curt scoff. "All I did was reveal what's really inside the Gryffindor’s Golden Boy James Potter."
He stilled. The lodge returned to his throat, making it hard to swallow, to breathe and for all this to handle. But this was Snape, why would he believe him? It heeded into his own lingering doubt, all over a revealing hex that caused him to feel absolutely nothing.
James' grip on his wand weakened.
Snape continued, that smugness ripened in his slitted eyes. “Now everyone can see what's under all that show you pull. This is the real you ."
He wanted to back away, to retreat into himself. Lost in the mind of his own because this couldn’t be true. He knew he was capable of love, of feeling another’s hands in his own and his heartbeat gushing.
And yet...
“Undo it,” he gritted out. Fire hurried back in his gut, the same heat he desperately wanted to relish in at the Tower with Regulus. Though, this heat scorched black.
Snape scoffed, “It’ll stop eventually, but I’ll find great pleasure in watching this, whilst you won’t feel a thing.”
His jaw slackened as Snape finally fought against his grip. James watched, vision blurred, as the other walked away. And he just let him. All because of those circling thoughts, the doubts rooting further into the ground, into something more solid and believable.
Then, guilt sprouted from those roots.
Guilt because that fire in his gut was anger, it was frustration, fuelled by the want to hurt another. He could feel that.
But not something as simple as the love he had for the people closest to him.
James dealt with it on his own for the next day.
He tried to ignore how it hurt, to be this different. This wasn’t the same James Potter his parents knew, who they’d be proud of. He wasn’t listening to their lessons of leading with the heart. All because his heart wouldn’t cooperate.
It got worse. Tougher to hide and harder to tolerate.
During the nights in his dorm when the others are in loud moods and refused to let the others sleep, even the sounds of it bothered him. Because that joy was taken from him too.
He took longer showers, water set to the hottest temperature. But even then, the boiling against his back, the winces of hot steam, it wasn’t enough to replicate the warmth of another person’s touch.
James missed hugs. He didn’t cave into Sirius’ side hugs anymore when the two sat on the Common Room sofas. It wasn’t as nice when Sirius paraded his legs over his lap and demanded his attention for the next hour. He couldn’t feel appreciation when Remus joined them, taking the pressure off him to speak because it hurt to even fake the words.
Yet, with Regulus, it was hell on earth.
“Jamie.” He looked up and Regulus stood at the entrance of the Quidditch changing rooms.
He immediately grabbed a shirt and pulled it over his head, ignoring the laughter from his teammates.
“A word?”
James followed him and the two stopped in a more secluded part of the room.
“You forgot your glasses,” Regulus said, smiling lightly, even if his tone was reprehending. “I think a Chaser needs to see in order to win.”
He forged the same smile Regulus beamed at him. “Would’ve thought you’d want me to lose so you go against Ravenclaw next week instead.”
Regulus scoffed and brought the glasses up to James’ face. He waited, anticipating the feeling, a part of him hoping it would still be there. The rush he got at whatever proximity he had with Regulus, reminiscent of days ago when Regulus’ fingertips brushed along his face.
But his hitched breath brought none of that, only just surprise at the sudden contact. Not love, not anything.
“I’d never put down the chance to go against Gryffindor and humble you all,” Regulus muttered, hand hovering close to James’ face despite his glasses now on. His fingers skimmed James’ cheek gently.
Regulus dropped his hand. “Win for me,” he whispered.
For a brief moment, he tried to think of every good memory he’d had with Regulus. Every wakeup, tangled with the other, hands wrapped around him, hair nestled under his chin and half a body weighted against him.
He closed the gap between them, kissing him quickly. With every second, he clung to those memories, wishing that it was enough to fool the other that nothing was wrong.
Regulus’ smile only brightened, like the star he was.
“I’m guessing that’s a yes that you’ll try to win,” Regulus teased.
"Good luck kiss."
"Well, if it's for luck then..." he trailed off and kissed James again until the whistle sounded, calling for the Gryffindor team to be on the pitch.
James released his hand but was reluctant to let go. Even if he couldn’t feel the touch, he could see that Regulus still liked him .
Regardless, he went, following the rest of his team out.
He didn't flinch as the wind hit him on the pitch—for he found his heart was colder.
It was after that day that James made an effort to avoid Regulus. He hated it, using the map so the two never crossed paths. But it was better this way, waiting out this lack of feeling. Because he couldn’t stand it—pretending that the affection he gave came from his own compassion rather than guilt.
He swallowed it all down. Hands curled into fists of his own making as he walked through corridors. Blunt fingernails almost pierced into his skin, and he felt the scratch, the burn.
“Hey.”
James’ hands clenched fighter at the voice. Regulus.
He turned, lips thinned and nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight of a Regulus who seemed apprehensive.
“You weren’t at the Tower last night,” Regulus said, eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't be avoiding me, now would you Potter?"
It was teasing but James could tell there was real worry to his remark.
He forgot on purpose.
After dinner, James practically ran to his dorm and hid under his bed covers, wishing for the duvet to muffle the guilt riddling in his head for leaving Regulus waiting for him.
He’d hit himself if his past self saw him now. So undeserving of the boy who opened up to him, only to be a coward because he couldn’t admit to it. Couldn’t admit to maybe... maybe this was the real him. There was no problem, he was the problem.
The hex showed his true self, how he wasn’t the sun or the loveable person everyone thought he was. He was all but drained. Drained and empty, unworthy of everything that had been handed to him.
“Sorry I,” his voice broke. He couldn’t even spit out an apology. Remorse thickened on his tongue and he hated it. He hated himself. “I forgot.”
Regulus frowned. “You never forget.” He stepped closer, only for James to take one back. The distance between them lessened the grief.
“James, are you—”
“I need to go,” he blurted out, backing further away.
He couldn’t get out of there fast enough; the deflated look in Regulus’ eyes only served as a reminder. James was broken—and his lack of want, of desire to comfort Regulus, only proved it.
It had hit a week and this nothingness was still there.
James needed help. He went into his dorm room, hoping maybe Remus was in there. Though, Peter was—the boy in the middle of searching for a clean pair of socks.
"Wormtail," James called, grabbing the other’s attention. “You’ve been hexed before, right?”
“Uh yeah,” Peter said, confused at the sudden topic. “Fourth year, rat tail because of Mulciber and Avery. It made a hole in my favourite pair of trousers.”
“That I sewed up.”
“Badly.”
James glared and threw a pillow at the other's head. But then a chill pounded at his chest—a chill replacing the warmth that would’ve followed his laughter at Peter’s shit attempt of dodging.
“How long did it last again?” he asked, trying to not let his panic seep into his voice.
“Only a day.”
Only a day.
It echoed in his head, each reframe mocking him, stabbing him in the gut over and over because fuck. A day and this was a week.
His mouth dried up as his legs numbed. A gust of wind would make him fall and James didn’t know if he’d even attempt to land safely. Maybe a fall to the ground, his head bashing against the floor, would be the hurt he'd need to feel more than emptiness.
Snape said it would end eventually, a week was surely enough. But what if—
He winced, struggling to keep the sound to himself. It just kept spiralling , his head dizzy. He needed these thoughts to stop, for the water to stop rushing up to his chin, at a level to almost gush into his mouth so he would sink down and deep.
Yet, with freshwater stinging at his nose, the thoughts voiced themselves.
“Do you think a hex can become a part of you?”
"Prongs, what?"
He bit at his lip. "It's dark magic, right? And what if, what if there are some hexes that show who you are? That maybe you’ve deluded yourself into thinking something about yourself and it takes dark magic to show it?"
“You're not making any sense, mate.”
James rubbed harshly at his face, teeth grating against one another.
“You said it gave you a rat tail. And a year later your animagus turns out to be a rat.” His head darted with half-met conclusions. "What if it always knew and the hex was just a push at what you really are inside?”
Peter frowned. “No, I just really like cheese.”
Flames returned in his gut. A strike of anger, rage as his hands clawed at his own face.
“Peter!” he yelled, shocking them both but he couldn’t stop. He needed answers, for this to finish.
He needed to feel love again and not heat from just this boiling frustration. He wanted the warmth back, whenever Regulus held his hand or kissed his cheek. Yearned for his laughter to no longer ring empty during mealtimes.
“Okay, I’ll take this seriously,” Peter muttered. “Why are you asking about hexes?”
“Something is wrong with me,” James croaks out, voice hoarse and on the brink of breaking. “Something’s wrong and I don’t know if it’s my fault or if this is actually me.”
It was, it was, it was.
Out of the corner of his eye, Peter approached him, hand raised. “Hey, hey, James it’s—” his hand landed on James’ shoulder, but he couldn’t feel it.
The cold had spread from his chest to every part of him. He couldn’t feel a simple shoulder touch, not from a friend, not from anyone. No longer could he stagger into the holding stability any one of the Marauders brought to him.
And James fell.
He pushed Peter’s hand away, chest so tight and vacant. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t—
His head rushed, thoughts bleeding red even though they flowed in lonely silence.
So he ran. He ran, ears muffled to any objection or callings of his name. With an obscured vision and wavering body, he just ran.
James ended up at the Astronomy Tower. He didn’t remember how he got here or even how long the breeze had bitten through his skin for he could no longer feel it.
His subconscious probably clung to this location, to what it used to mean to him. Yet, the grey bricks and dark sky ushered no comfort. Brought nothing.
He stared out at the sky, the fullness of it mocking him. He was drawn to the Leo constellation. Memories clutched at him, the nights of Regulus teaching him each pattern between the stars—when he grabbed his hand to help James navigate where to link the invisible lines. Regulus whispers explaining the stories, the hot air against his ear that made him go so red . And James always listened, amazed and falling in love with Regulus’ voice and touch. He remembered acting dumb sometimes, needing extra help to navigate the stars, so Regulus would lean in closer, putting pressure on his back, breathing down the back of his neck.
But now he stood alone in a Tower where those were just memories he could no longer have for himself.
“Peter told me I’d find you here.” Remus’ voice spoke louder than the wind. “And Sirius, he said you ignored him earlier when you walked out of the Common Room.”
He probably did, amid his blurry eyes and muted ears.
“What’s wrong, Prongs?” Remus asked. It was soft but assertive, demanding an answer in a way that made you think you had a choice. But you'd answer anyway because it was Remus.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” James whispered back. “The next full moon is only a couple days away and you hate looking at the sky when it’s this close.”
“That doesn’t matter to me right now.”
He sighed, his exhale freezing in the air surrounding him.
“Let me guess, I matter instead?” he scoffed, reeling into his own emptiness.
“Your response is what tells me there’s something you’re not telling us.” Remus paused for a moment, then turned to face him. “Because I’ve seen you sad, or just done with everything. And yeah you’ve snapped, shouted, been a massive prick. But it’s never this...”
Empty, heartless, incapable of feeling the one universal human emotion.
“Cold?” he finished.
Remus nodded.
“It’s nothing bad,” James whispered, forcing the words out.
“So nothing bad is making you avoid Regulus at any given chance? Avoid us as well?”
James stayed silent.
“He knows something is up, we all do.”
“‘M just tired.”
"Now, I believe that, " Remus said, "but I don't think that's just it."
James’ silence extended until Remus left—the waning gibbous moon bothering him too much. He sent Remus away with a false promise that he’d be okay, they’d talk about it later in the dorm.
And now he let the quiet ruin his mind.
Yet, approaching footsteps filled him with dread. He turned and it was those grey eyes, no speck of green in them without the light.
“You’re acting weird,” Regulus said, stepping closer but not as close as he usually would.
“Hm,” was all he could say. Because if he opened his mouth, he’d confess, reveal everything and let the tears brimming in his eyes pour. A tear with every confession—of how he smelt nothing, that he was nothing, a bad person, bad boyfriend, so, so undeserving of everything.
So he kept quiet.
“It’s been weird since you said you were sick last week.”
More silence.
"You're not sick.”
James shook his head. He wasn't sick. This apparently was the real him.
“Is it me?” Regulus asked.
No.
It hounded so sharp in his mind. Of course it wasn’t Regulus, it wasn’t his fault.
“You’ve... been avoiding me and,” Regulus fiddled with his hands. “Something has changed.” Then he grabbed James’ own and he doesn’t immediately interlink their fingers, or lift it to kiss Regulus’ knuckles, or even squeeze it.
James just let it hang. Limp.
"Tell me," Regulus urged, vulnerable, and James wanted to crumble into himself.
Regulus frowned and squeezed their hands for him. James winced. He never wanted to do this to the other, to cause him discomfort or harm, and here he was, being the worst boyfriend because he wasn’t in love with him anymore.
But he was. He knew he was in love, days ago. But now... the hex showed what truly he was like. Incapable of it. Only sick with obsession, the infatuation with idealised versions and idolised woes.
He wasn’t a good person.
More tears swelled in his eyes as he peered out at the star of Regulus. He couldn’t bare to face the man himself and see the hurt in that face he had dreamed futures of.
“I mentioned the Amortentia potion before you started acting like this,” Regulus said. James’ lip trembled, he couldn’t do this—couldn’t just stand there as someone so deserving of love and comfort received nothing of it. “What did you really smell?”
His vision continued to drown the night sky into a single droplet of black. He tried to find that fucking star in the Leo constellation again. But he couldn’t find it, couldn’t even see. So, he twisted round, to stare blurrily into the eyes of the star himself.
Bile tasted bitter at the back of his throat. He couldn’t remember a single scent that adorned Regulus, not a single thing. So bared his teeth into one final facade, a smile, and guessed:
“Lavender,” he whispered. “You’re lavender.”
Something strong but delicate, hard to miss and easy to name.
But his answer only made Regulus’ eyes harden, his lips twitching into a frown.
Then, for the last time of the night, James was alone in a Tower made to stand two but just like his heart, it couldn’t even handle the presence of one.
Regulus was confused.
No, he was more than confused. He was disorientated by this entire ordeal.
Normally this feeling of disorientation was fine—James made him feel weak on his feet, so unstable but it was a knocking of stability he adored. The unpredictable nature of having someone love you. For their next move to be a grab of his hands, a squeeze of his waist or a simple kiss on his cheek.
Yet that hadn’t happened in the last couple of days.
And he didn’t know why.
“He said he smelt lavender,” he muttered, pacing circles around Barty and Evan. “Lavender,” he repeated quietly, biting at his lip until it bled because fucking lavender?
He didn’t smell of lavender. He hated it.
There was nothing floral about him. Floral was Pandora, who sometimes got her rose-scented perfume on him whenever her hugs went on for a bit too long—though it was blasphemy to let go first with her.
"Lavender's nice," Barty shrugged and Evan nodded since he used it as a laundry detergent.
"But it's not me ," Regulus insisted.
“Maybe he’s got some smell disorder, you know how Dorcas has trouble spelling, maybe it’s—”
“That’s letters, Evan,” he spat out. “And a learning difficulty, but saying he smelt lavender on me isn’t...” he trailed off because he didn’t understand.
Sure, lavender could be something else that attracts his boyfriend, just a smell he found nice, but he said Regulus was lavender. And he wasn’t. He didn’t smell Regulus at all.
“This is the shittest pity party,” Barty sighed, echoing Regulus’ thoughts as he collapsed onto his bed.
“You used up the last firewhiskey we had when you flunked your essay last week,” Regulus said back.
“I deserved that break,” Barty defended and Regulus agreed—he was a mess after his he got his Charms grade back.
He felt pathetic, knowing it was something so stupid as a love potion that made him act like this. He shouldn’t be bested by something conducted by James who often confused standard potioning water and his drink. He had endured worse than this. Lived and breathed worse things. Yet, when it came to James and that nagging fear that something was wrong, Regulus couldn’t stand it.
He’d had gotten used to this, the running affection, being cared for, to having someone. James Potter had broken down everything he’d ever known with that dumb smile and softness despite the harsh callouses on his hands. James rewrote it all—all with how he never made Regulus feel small, never a moment of imbalance regardless of James being almost a head taller than him.
They were equals.
And yet, for the past couple of days, it was as if a ghost had replaced his boyfriend.
“No, okay, I’m not going to be a sad prick about this,” Regulus suddenly stated, getting up from his bed.
“Good, I cannot deal with a sad Regulus,” Evan muttered. “No offence.”
“Instead, I’ll be angry, demanding as well, and a proper bitch.”
“Yes sir.” Barty saluted at him until Regulus’ glare made him stop. “So what’re you gonna do?”
“We're going to break into Slughorn’s office and test a hypothesis.”
The two squinted at him.
"Now, it's good and all you're finally not gonna be a teacher's pet for Slughorn, but I'm failing to see the correlation here."
Regulus scoffed, “Just help me distract him after class.”
As always, the both of them helped—with Barty being the distraction and Evan keeping watch. It didn’t take much to distract Professor Slughorn, all he wanted was a conversation sometimes. So Regulus and Evan snuck into his office and found the vials the upper year had prepared of Amortentia.
Regulus grabbed it and doused the liquid onto a handkerchief. He placed the bottle away and went to pocket his handkerchief until Evan stopped him.
“Aren’t you curious?” Evan asked, staring down at the handkerchief, “Y’know, of what it would smell like?”
Regulus stilled. His stomach clenched at even the mention of smelling a love potion. There was fear in the confirmation. Being an open book in front of another—open to the most vulnerable emotion there possibly was. Love.
"Do you want to?" he offered the handkerchief to Evan, who took it with no trouble.
He expected something of ease to come across Evan’s face, an essence of tranquillity since this was the scent of attraction. Something acquired only to your tastes, suited for your senses only.
Instead, Evan scowled down at the fabric in his hand and groaned, “Oh for fuck’s sake, why him?”
His friend’s distress only worsened at Barty entering the room and notifying them that Slughorn was dealt with. Regulus decided to ignore all of that and took the handkerchief back. He stared down at it for what seemed like hours until he brought it up to his own nose.
Cherries.
He smelt cherries.
Cherries and broom polish. Even the smell of it made his heart race, that shaking in his hands no longer because of fear.
It smelt like what a home would. Something bright and crisp, not at all muted. It was so loud , impossible to ignore.
James Potter.
Fuck.
With a final look at his two friends, Regulus scrunched up the handkerchief into his pocket and rushed out. He needed to get this over with even more because he loved James Potter. He practically stormed into the Great Hall and bee-lined over to the Gryffindor table, disregarding the looks he received as he slotted himself in between Remus and Sirius.
“Reggie, you can’t sit here,” Sirius said. "And that is my biscuit, thank you so much for taking it."
Regulus bit into the dessert, grinning. “Dumbledore isn’t looking right now, is he?”
“The man needs glasses anyway.”
He smiled at his brother’s friends, but it dimmed when he realised James hadn’t even said a word. He hadn’t greeted him or even looked his way. It was as if he wasn’t here.
James took a long sip of his drink. Handkerchief in hand, Regulus reached over the table.
“Jamie, you’ve got a bit of,” he cut himself off, reaching over the table—handkerchief in hand—and wiped the corner of James’ mouth, making sure to touch his nose.
Then he waited.
And waited.
Waited.
For nothing.
There was no reaction.
In his recoil, a sick thought that always crept at the back of his mind came to the front. Words that had echoed ever since he fled from Grimmauld Place. The thoughts, their words, came back, screaming.
His parents were right.
The corners of his eyes stung. His head spiralled and he grabbed Sirius’ arm, pulling him out of the Great Hall. He ignored the other’s outburst to let go because he couldn’t stop. If he did, he wouldn’t know what to do.
He shoved Sirius into an empty classroom and slammed the door shut, relishing in the sharp sound. But then a silence crawled in.
"Regulus, contrary to belief, but I don't actually like having my arm ripped from its sockets so—" Sirius’ words died when he finally looked over at Regulus.
Red-nosed with tears pooling in his eyes. He was a mess.
“Reggie, what’s wrong?”
The bite to his lip couldn’t conceal his whimper. His sleeves scratched at his eyes to stop the tears from spilling. A choked breath left him. This was fine, he was okay. Nothing was wrong—but so much was wrong.
“They were right,” he sniffed, biting at his lip again because he won’t cry. No, he won’t cry over this, this wouldn’t break him. Nothing could, because if he cried, it meant it was real, and it couldn’t be real, James was real and—
Regulus was unloveable.
“Who?”
“Our parents, they were fucking right.” Regulus’ voice hitched, breaking at almost every word. “Right about me.”
"Reg—"
"No!" he shouted, tears finally falling. “When- when I eventually left, to follow after you, and I asked if I even mattered, more than being the spare, and she,” another whimper escaped, his face drowning, “and she said I was impossible to love.”
His throat scratched as dry sobs wrecked him.
“Is it because I never said it back? He got bored of me?” Regulus began to pace, to move erratically across the classroom, the movement making more tears roll down his face. “I never, I never said it back and I still can’t, I can’t say it even though I do and now he doesn’t love me anymore and I’m...”
Stuck.
Stuck feeling like he was back in Grimmauld Place. Behind the doors of his own room that weren’t thick enough to muffle the arguments between his parents, or his brother’s yellings, of both argument and anger, and then of pain, pain when punishment eventually called.
Back to when he thought he was deserving of that fate—born as a placeholder, the spare for a family name with people who did not care about him, but only what he would bring. What alliances a marriage would hold, how it’d strengthen their power and the name of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
There was nothing noble about being unlovable.
“Regulus.” Sirius placed both his hands on Regulus’ shoulders. “I thought we established ages ago everything our parents taught us was wrong. ”
He scoffed, bringing his sleeve back up to his wet face. “A couple summers living with the Potters doesn’t change a childhood of that, Sirius,” he sniffed. “It’s still there. Always.”
“And it’s wrong,” Sirius rebutted, voice booming a storm, grabbing him closer. “Everything about them is wrong. Fuck them, alright? Fuck them,” there was so much force to his brother and Regulus welcomed the thunder. “You’re not impossible to love. I’m here, aren’t I? After everything, I am here.”
Sirius’ hands pulled Regulus into his chest.
“That must be saying something because you make my life a living hell, and I’m still here,” Sirius whispered, a lighthearted tone to it that made Regulus chuckle despite his tears.
He leaned into Sirius’ shoulder, resting his forehead against him. “Stop using Muggle phrases I don’t understand.”
Sirius scoffed but didn’t let go.
“You’re here,” Regulus muttered, confirming it for himself. He was in his brother’s arms, in a hug he always saw Sirius bring James into, and they always looked so warm. But the reminder of James only made it cold. “But he isn’t.”
“James wouldn’t have kept his crush on you from me for months if he wasn’t serious about you, Reggie.”
Stinging pricked at his eyes once more. “But he’s not anymore.”
“He still is. He loves you, I don’t get what’s suddenly wrong.”
Regulus brushed off Sirius’ hands, jaw clenched. “Then why didn’t he smell me in the Amortentia potion? The entire premise is attraction, love and I wasn’t there. We were fine before, hours ago he loved me, he said he loved me and now—
Sirius frowned.
“And he just changed? After Potions?”
Regulus nodded.
Silence settled between them, though from the look on Sirius’ face, it wasn’t so silent for him. His eyebrows kept furrowing, lip twitching as if coming to a realisation. Then it hit him.
“It’s not you, Reg, or James,” Sirius said, a sudden spite to his tone, one of anger, demanding justice in a single blow. “It’s fucking Severus Snape.”
“What?” he croaked out.
“James was hexed. I thought- I thought something was weird about that because nothing came of it. But obviously, obviously this is the nothing. Him becoming nothing. He doesn’t laugh the same or lean into me either, and if it’s affecting you two as well, then it’s dark magic because he’s obsessed with you. Probably will be forever.”
A hex.
Regulus gulped. A hex caused this, it wasn’t him, and it wasn’t James. It was a hex.
"James was hexed and you didn't tell anyone?" he asked, confused.
"Don't blame this on me!" Sirius snapped before his shoulders slumped in defeat. Though then a flash of realisation sprung him back into mobility. "I, fuck," he cut himself off and grabbed his wand out of his pocket before opening the classroom door.
“Where are you going?”
Sirius stopped and a dark grin replaced the uncertainty of before.
“To beat up a snake, you joining?”
Regulus wiped his face for a final time. His jaw clenched because James still loved him, someone took that away from him, from James himself. And that needed some justice.
“Of course.” His own dark smile matched his brother’s.
With every step he took following Sirius, he prepared for his fists to bleed the same blood that thumped at the very mention of James Potter.
James stuck to himself for the following day.
Though he’d heard what he had missed. That Mary finally got the confidence to ask Lily to go to Hogsmeade with her on the weekend alone, and during breakfast, someone charmed Sirius’ drink to taste like sparkling water (he hated sparkling water), and for some reason, Severus Snape ended up needing urgent care in the Hospital Wing—bruised with broken bones, and hexed.
He found himself in the Astronomy Tower again. Standing far from the telescope since looking at the stars so closely made him sick. Instead, he sat on the railing, legs dangling and body at a whim to the cold breeze.
James was used to it. The cold. Used to this, as well—being himself, it seemed.
“Come inside, James.”
The whisper came from his right and he knew who it was from the voice. He didn’t have the stomach to face Regulus right now.
“It’s warmer inside.”
He scoffed. Warmth couldn’t even come to him if he begged for it—not with boiling water, the flames of the fireplace or even burning anger anymore.
A hand reached out, closer than what the whisper sounded.
It didn’t seem real, for Regulus to be here, to be reaching out for him. Not when the last time he saw him Regulus looked heartbroken. Which was exactly what James had done. Broke his heart. All because James was incapable of having his own.
“You know I lied,” he muttered, because he knew Regulus’ quirks, his face at dinner yesterday, and his exit with Sirius. Regulus was smart, smart to have his assumptions—the Amortentia potion—and to bring it straight to the source of his problems. James. “I’ve been lying all this time.”
“Jamie,” Regulus whispered again, more urgent.
He sighed and twisted around, feet no longer dangling but now on the floor. He prepared himself for shouting, an argument maybe, for it to finally break. The tension to snap and distort into anger. For Regulus to finally be mean enough to finally deter James Potter away.
And James would let him. He’d let Regulus shout and scream, to hit at his chest even though he wouldn’t feel it. Because he deserved it.
Then he registered arms around him.
He flinched to welcome more ice and emptiness. To mourn the touch he missed so dearly, the walking grief of seeing arms clutching him and not feeling it.
But there was no ice. No emptiness.
Something filled up that vacant void.
Regulus.
It was warm. He was warm. And everything crashed at once. The softness of arms clasping at him tightly, the smell, blooming with the memories that accompanied each scent. He could feel it, he could feel Regulus. James could feel with every beat of his heart—a heart no longer caged or frozen over.
This was real and the love of his life was in his arms.
He tugged away for just a second—he could only handle a second—just to check he wasn’t dreaming. Grey eyes with specks of sage green met with his own teary ones. This was real.
James caved back into Regulus’ grip, laughing, he was laughing. He threw himself closer into the hug, head locked into Regulus’ neck, embracing the ache of the awkward angle. He could finally embrace the boy he loved without a sickness encasing him, without the grief of a grave moments from burial.
He loved, he could love again.
"Don't let go of me," he pleaded into Regulus’ neck. He needed hands on him, this warmth to never stop, to overheat until his head fogged over.
"I won't," Regulus whispered back. He brought a hand up to the back of James’ head, fingers threading through his curls, stroking so gently.
James leant down so Regulus could reach every part of him.
"It's back," James muttered, tears dripping down his chin.
Regulus nodded, a smile nudging against the skin of James' cheek.
“Amber,” he said and Regulus hummed, prompting him to continue. He laughed wetly into Regulus’ shoulder. “You smell like amber.”
“And you cherries,” Regulus replied, sharing the wetness in his eyes.
Cherries, he laughed again, a sound no longer ringing hollow. James apparently smelt like cherries.
He surged forward and kissed him. His heartbeat raced at the touch of Regulus’ lips, hammering as Regulus tugged him closer for another, and another. Panting as both wanted to take the other apart and never let go of any pieces. James wanted to be buried here, in the heat of Regulus’ embrace, curled into him.
He never wanted to breathe an ounce of oxygen again if it meant Regulus stopped kissing him.
There was a crook in his neck at this angle but James didn’t care. He just kept smiling, breaking the kiss as his smile widened. Regulus’ hand cupped his cheek, his fingers lowering to his jaw—just cradling him. Whilst James’ own hands ripped and sought for every part Regulus offered to him. His shirt, arms, lower back, hands rummaging for it all.
With a shaky breath, James rested his forehead against Regulus’. His eyelashes brushed on the other’s skin as they rested finally shut. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, relishing in every slither of a second.
“How is it fixed?” he asked, his voice wrecked because that rush was back. The chaos of loving Regulus Black was back.
“Snape did a numbing hex,” Regulus said, his thumb tracing over James’ cheekbones. “Beating the shit out of him was enough motivation for him to undo it.”
His stomach dropped. A numbing hex. It didn’t reveal anything, it wasn’t to uncover what really wallowed inside him. He felt so dumb. Because why would Snape tell him the truth? But a pinch to his cheek brought his attention back up to Regulus. Those grey eyes held so much love in them, the sight alone tearing down any self-pity and depreciation.
James grabbed Regulus’ hands. He noticed the effects of the healing spell Regulus used on his knuckles. His fingers brushed over them.
“How many punches did it take for the tosser to break?”
Regulus grinned. “Only a couple, but really it was Sirius’ stinging hex that wouldn’t make him shut up.”
They did that for him. Regulus, his friends, they did that for him.
He surged forward to kiss him again. Though, it was shorter this time. He lead a trail down to Regulus’ jaw, then back up to his lips when Regulus tried to further explain. It was loud enough in his head that he didn’t need words. That burning warmth echoed enough noise for him.
The thumping of his heart matched the roaring in his ears because he was utterly in love with Regulus Black.
James continued planting pecks until Regulus smothered his laughter as it tickled.
Hands returned to his face, Regulus’ expression pouring everything into him.
“You should have told me what was wrong.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Regulus’ torso. Clutching him so close, not ever wanting to be away from him again. “I’m sorry for avoiding you, and hurting you and—”
“I would’ve helped. I did help, all you needed to do was tell me,” Regulus said. It wasn’t accusative, or with blame.
“I don’t think I could’ve ever admitted it,” he whimpered with a tremble back to his lips, which Regulus sought to kiss away.
James gulped and looked forward, facing Regulus instead of hiding away.
“Snape told me it was a revealing hex, to show what really was inside me. And... And I didn’t want to admit that maybe, maybe I was horrible. I was some fucked up person incapable of love, who had deluded themselves into thinking he had it in his hands,” James went on, breath hitching. “And if I told anyone and even fixed it, they’d still know what the inner version of myself was. You'd all know I was loveless."
"You are anything but," Regulus told him, eyes so earnest and raw. "You're okay now, it's okay."
James tightened his grip around him again, kissing the side of his face. Leaning into that smell of amber and vanilla.
“Would’ve saved us a bunch of tears though, and a few misunderstandings if you had told me though,” Regulus muttered into his skin, a smile to his voice. “At least Sirius and I got to beat up Severus.”
“I made it eventful though, didn’t I?” he joked. “Gives me an excuse to fuck with Snape more once he’s out of the hospital as well.”
Regulus scoffed but still held him close.
"Come back inside with me.”
James listened this time. He allowed himself to be dragged. He had no recollection of how they got into the Gryffindor Common Room or even his dorm. But now he stood at the edge of his bed, Regulus tugging him forward for a second time.
The two lay on the unmade bed, just staring at the other. Both on their side, nose to nose. Each of their breaths heated the other’s cheeks. James leaned forward just an inch, lips ghosting with Regulus’, and bringing a smile to them both.
He’d had so many hot showers, burning his skin with that temperature, just to try to replicate the warmth he felt with Regulus in his arms. He no longer needed faux fires for now he had the real thing.
Regulus grabbed his hands, holding them close to James' own chest, loving the silence whilst his head rumbled.
“How did you ever believe you were incapable of love? That the hex was a part of you and not just a punishment?” Regulus asked in the quiet, kissing the palm of his hands, squeezing them so tight . “You are the most lovable person I know, the biggest fucking heart there is, keeps giving and giving, and...”
Regulus stopped. There was that hesitancy James recognised. So he nodded, he nodded because he understood what Regulus couldn’t say, and that was okay—
“And I love you.”
James’ breath hitched.
“I love you,” Regulus kept repeating the words, tears peaking from the corners of his eyes. James wanted to engrain those words in his skull, for them to be the last words he heard when falling asleep, and the first to wake him up. All tangled up with the boy who meant everything to him. Every star and dark mark in the sky, everything.
“I love you too,” he said back, meaning every word. “You make it so easy to love you,” he whispered as he kissed Regulus’ forehead. “So easy.” His fingers traced the freckles under his eyes. “Every part of you.”
Regulus’ smile brightened the darkness that encased both of them in his bed.
“I used to think this wouldn’t be possible,” Regulus admitted as his fingers threaded with James’ own.
“And if the world allows me, I’ll be there every single day to remind you that it’s real.”
“Every day?”
He leaned over and kissed the dried tear tracks along Regulus’ cheeks. James brushed his nose against the other, just laying there, basking in him and this proximity.
“Every day,” he promised.
"Okay, then you’re the little spoon tonight," Regulus demanded, causing him to make a confused noise. "Just let me hold you for a while."
James went to protest, not wanting to let Regulus go, only to make the other laugh breathlessly into his shoulder.
"Accept it, be the little spoon."
He grumbled as Regulus moved around the bed. But the quick warmth spreading across his back shut him up. It was where the sting once was, the area of the hex. The heat from Regulus pressing against him, m curled around James’ waist, keeping him there, secure and coveted, it reminded him that it was over. He was trapped in the best way possible.
Eventually he turned over, to curl into Regulus’ chest, slotting himself under the other’s chin. He planted a kiss there and adjusted to hear the other’s running heartbeat pound against the side of his face.
"Love you," he mumbled, planting more kisses to wherever he could reach.
"Love you too.” He heard the smile in Regulus' voice.
"Can you fucks put an Imperturbable Charm up now?"
Both froze. Sirius.
James winced, face immediately reddening. "You heard all that?"
A collective ‘yep’ of two voices sounded in the dorm room. Everyone was awake (except Peter, who slept like the dead).
“Yes, James, I heard you defiling my baby brother—”
“I did not defile—”
"And now you speak up?" Regulus complained. "You're all die tomorrow."
"I thought we did some brotherly bonding, Reggie, spare me," Sirius yawned into his laugh. "And where's my thank you, Prongs? I hexed Snape for you."
"I'll give you a big hug and kiss in the morning."
"Why not now?" Sirius whined, though he instantly yelped—probably Remus whacking him with the duvet.
"Not letting go of Reg," James insisted, smiling giddily. "Got withdrawal."
Regulus’ hand brushed through James’ curls. "Withdrawal, huh?"
"You're addicting," he continued to mutter, exhaustion catching up to him. "Can’t get enough.” He nudged him with his nose, pulling Regulus in for another kiss.
"Put up the fucking charm!"
Regulus groaned and grabbed his wand to do so. Then dove straight back into James' arms.
With a newly charmed bed and curtains, the two laughed. It was so carefree, and them. James hushed him as Regulus brought up the ‘defiling’ comment again, then James hugged him to stop Regulus from giggling at him.
His eyes fluttered shut as he buried himself in what he couldn’t imagine forgetting again—the smell of his love.
Amber, bergamot orange and sweetness.
Of Regulus Black.