Chapter Text
By the time James Potter began seriously considering whether he could fake a medical emergency convincing enough to be carried through the doors of the Halcyon, they had been standing in the queue for one hour, thirteen minutes, and somewhere in the region of four centuries.
“This is inhumane,” he announced.
Nobody answered him.
That was mostly because he had announced the same thing nine times already.
The queue stretched along the gleaming black frontage of the building, turned beneath an awning of smoked glass and gold-veined marble, and disappeared around the corner beneath a row of carefully trimmed trees wrapped in tiny white lights. Velvet ropes divided everyone into orderly sections, though there was nothing orderly about the muttering, shuffling crowd trapped between them.
The Halcyon was not simply a club.
Calling it a club was like calling Buckingham Palace a large house.
It occupied nearly an entire city block and rose twelve storeys above the pavement, all black glass, warm golden lighting and discreetly tinted windows. The lower floors housed two restaurants, a private casino, a members-only lounge, several bars and the nightclub everyone in the queue was attempting to enter. Above those were the hotel suites, spas, conference rooms, rooftop gardens and whatever else obscenely wealthy people apparently required when ordinary luxury no longer impressed them.
A silver emblem—a winged sun surrounded by a thin ring—was mounted above the doors.
It gleamed down upon the queue like it knew none of them belonged there.
James stared at it with increasing resentment.
“I hate that sun.”
“It hasn’t done anything to you,” Lily said.
“It’s mocking me.”
“It’s a decorative logo.”
“It knows.”
Lily closed her eyes.
Beside her, Mary Macdonald had been attempting to take a decent group photograph for the last ten minutes, despite the fact that everyone’s mood had deteriorated to the point that the results resembled images from a hostage negotiation.
“Could the lot of you stop looking murderous?” she demanded, holding her phone high. “We all spent ages getting ready.”
“I didn’t,” Peter said.
Mary lowered the phone and looked at him.
Peter looked down at his plain dark shirt, black jeans and trainers.
“I spent nine minutes.”
“We can tell,” Marlene said.
Peter gave her a wounded look. “I look perfectly respectable.”
“You look like you’re about to help somebody move house.”
“I might. You don’t know what the evening holds.”
“What the evening currently holds,” Sirius said darkly, “is another hour in this fucking queue.”
He had arrived at the Halcyon in an excellent mood.
That excellent mood had lasted approximately eleven minutes.
Now he was leaning against one of the brass posts supporting the velvet rope, dressed entirely in black and wearing the sort of expression usually associated with men contemplating revenge. His hair had been carefully styled into something that looked effortless and was therefore almost certainly the result of forty-five minutes in front of a mirror.
Every few moments, he glanced towards the entrance as though he might be able to intimidate the line into moving.
He could not.
Nobody could.
The club doors opened at maddening intervals, admitting three or four people before closing again. Each time, the queue shifted forward by a few feet and stopped.
There were still ten people ahead of them.
Ten.
James had counted.
Twice.
The first group consisted of four women in dresses that looked expensive enough to require their own insurance. In front of them stood two men arguing quietly about whether one of them had remembered to make the reservation. Beyond those were another couple, a woman in a silver suit, and one solitary man who had spent the last half-hour staring into the middle distance with the hollow expression of someone whose spirit had already entered the building without him.
Ten people should not have looked insurmountable.
They did.
Remus Lupin checked his watch.
Again.
“We’ve moved seventeen feet since half past ten.”
“Thank you, Remus,” Sirius said. “That has restored my will to live.”
“You’re welcome.”
“We should’ve gone somewhere else,” Marlene muttered.
“You were the one who wanted to come here,” Lily reminded her.
“I wanted to see it. I didn’t know we’d have to complete a pilgrimage first.”
“It’s exclusive,” Frank said patiently.
“So is prison,” Fabian Prewett replied. “Doesn’t mean I want to queue for it.”
Gideon, standing beside him, nodded solemnly. “At least prison guarantees entry.”
Alice Fortescue laughed, though the sound was slightly strained. She had been remarkably cheerful for most of the wait, which Frank suspected was an act of heroism performed solely to keep the rest of them from rioting.
“We’re nearly there,” she said.
James turned to look at the remaining ten people.
“Nearly is a generous word.”
“It’s ten people.”
“It was twenty-seven people when we arrived.”
“Exactly. Progress.”
“Civilisations have risen and fallen in less time.”
“No, they haven’t.”
“You weren’t there.”
Alice stared at him.
James folded his arms and stared back.
Frank leaned towards her. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re making eye contact.”
Behind them, somebody laughed loudly.
The sound carried over the low music leaking from the building, the hum of passing traffic and the restless conversations running along the queue.
Sirius glanced over his shoulder.
Then frowned.
Five figures were approaching along the pavement.
They moved with the irritating, easy confidence of people who had not spent over an hour trapped behind velvet ropes.
Regulus Black walked in the centre of them.
He was laughing at something Barty Crouch Jr. had said, head tipped slightly back, one hand gripping Evan Rosier’s arm to keep himself steady. Pandora Rosier was beside them, wearing an expression of dreamy satisfaction as she reached across Dorcas Meadowes to steal one of Barty’s chips from the paper carton in his hand.
Barty slapped her fingers away.
“You have your own.”
“I ate mine.”
“That sounds like a personal failing.”
“I wanted to compare them.”
“They came from the same place.”
“That doesn’t prove they experienced the journey equally.”
Dorcas reached over, took three chips while Barty was distracted, and put them into her mouth.
Barty looked down.
Then at her.
“You fucking thieves.”
“Should’ve protected your assets,” Dorcas said.
“I was protecting them.”
“Poorly.”
Evan laughed. “That’s why nobody’s trusting you behind a bar yet.”
“My interview is next week.”
“Yes,” Evan said. “The interview. The stage before employment in which they decide whether allowing you near glass bottles is a criminally negligent act.”
“I’m charming.”
“You threatened a waiter with a cocktail umbrella last month.”
“He brought me the wrong drink.”
“He brought you exactly what you ordered.”
“I ordered badly.”
Pandora nodded. “It was a vulnerable moment.”
Regulus laughed again.
That was what caught James’s attention.
Not simply the arrival of five people they knew—five people who, under ordinary circumstances, could be relied upon to complicate any evening within minutes—but the fact that none of them appeared remotely concerned by the enormous queue.
They were dressed for the Halcyon.
Properly dressed for it.
Barty wore black trousers and a dark green shirt, the top several buttons undone, a narrow chain glinting at his throat. Evan was in a tailored charcoal suit with no tie, elegant and sharp enough to look as though he had walked out of an advertisement for something James could not afford. Pandora wore a fitted velvet dress beneath a cropped leather jacket, her pale hair pinned up with tiny gold stars. Dorcas had chosen a deep red suit, the jacket cut close over a black top, her braids pulled away from her face.
Regulus—
Sirius’s frown deepened.
Regulus looked unfair.
That was the only word for it.
He was wearing fitted black trousers with a faint sheen to them, close enough to emphasise every line of his legs and hips, and a loose dark silk shirt tucked into the waistband. The shirt dipped low at the throat, exposing a delicate silver chain and far more pale skin than Sirius considered necessary in public. A narrow black jacket hung from his shoulders. His dark curls had been styled away from his face except for a few strands falling across his forehead, and there was a subtle trace of something silver at the corners of his eyes.
He looked polished.
Expensive.
Pretty enough that people passing on the pavement turned to look twice.
Regulus did not notice them doing it.
Or, more likely, he noticed and did not care.
“Of course,” Sirius said bitterly.
James followed his gaze.
“Oh.”
Mary turned.
Her eyebrows rose.
“Oh.”
Marlene twisted around. “What?”
Then she saw them.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Peter blinked. “They look nice.”
“They look smug,” Sirius corrected.
“They haven’t seen us.”
“They’re smug generally.”
The five continued towards the Halcyon, still talking among themselves.
Barty was now attempting to steal Pandora’s clutch bag as repayment for the chips.
Pandora was allowing him to do it with suspicious ease.
“What’s in this?” Barty demanded, weighing it in his palm. “A brick?”
“A small knife, two crystals, a packet of sugar, three buttons, a broken watch and a spoon.”
Barty stopped.
“A spoon?”
“One never knows.”
“Give that back to her,” Evan said.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to explain to security why you’re carrying a knife and stolen cutlery.”
“It isn’t stolen,” Pandora said. “The spoon came to me.”
Dorcas looked at Regulus. “You know the kitchen staff are going to ask if she’s eaten.”
“She has,” Regulus said.
“A handful of chips doesn’t count.”
“She ate at mine before we left.”
Barty scoffed. “She licked icing from a knife.”
“There was cake attached to it.”
“Barely.”
Pandora retrieved her bag from Barty and tucked it beneath her arm.
Then, without slowing, the five of them passed the back of the queue.
James watched them.
They did not stop.
He waited for the moment when they would turn towards the end of the line.
They did not.
They kept walking.
Past James.
Past Sirius.
Past Lily, Remus, Peter and the others.
Straight along the outside of the velvet ropes.
James’s mouth fell open.
“No,” he said.
The five carried on.
Sirius straightened away from the brass post.
“Regulus.”
Regulus did not hear him.
Or pretended not to.
“Regulus!”
That time, all five stopped.
They turned almost in unison.
Barty’s expression transformed first.
His eyes landed on Sirius, then drifted over the rest of the group standing behind the rope, and a slow, delighted grin spread across his face.
“Oh,” he said. “Look what the pavement coughed up.”
Dorcas smirked.
Evan’s brows rose with elegant amusement.
Pandora smiled as though she had just discovered an unexpected patch of mushrooms.
Regulus blinked.
“Sirius.”
There was a pause.
Sirius looked at him.
Regulus looked back.
Sirius pointed towards the rear of the queue.
“The end is back there.”
Regulus glanced in the indicated direction.
Then towards the doors.
Then back at Sirius.
“I know.”
James stared. “You know?”
“Yes.”
“And yet,” Lily said, folding her arms, “you appear to be walking directly towards the front.”
“Yes.”
Marlene laughed once, without humour. “You can’t cut the queue.”
Barty put a hand to his chest. “He can’t?”
“No,” Marlene said.
Barty turned to Regulus, scandalised. “Reggie, did you know?”
“I didn’t,” Regulus said gravely. “This is devastating.”
Evan sighed. “We’ll have to cancel the evening.”
“Tragic,” Dorcas murmured.
Pandora looked towards the end of the queue. “Perhaps we could grow old together outside.”
Gideon pointed at them. “You’re taking the piss.”
“Only a little,” Regulus said.
“A little?” Sirius repeated. “We’ve been standing here for over an hour.”
Regulus’s gaze travelled over them.
All eleven of them.
Their increasingly uncomfortable shoes. Their fading patience. James’s ruffled hair. Sirius’s thunderous expression. Peter’s half-eaten packet of mints. Marlene’s arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“How unfortunate,” Regulus said.
Barty made a choking noise and turned it into a cough against Evan’s shoulder.
Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Get to the back.”
“No.”
“You can’t just walk in.”
“I can, actually.”
James leaned over the rope. “Why?”
Regulus looked at him with mild surprise. “Because the doors open.”
“That isn’t what he meant,” Remus said.
“I know.”
The people directly ahead of them had started listening.
One of the women in expensive dresses glanced back, visibly interested.
Sirius noticed and lowered his voice slightly.
“Regulus.”
“Yes?”
“Stop being a little shit and queue like everybody else.”
Regulus tipped his head.
Behind him, Barty whispered loudly, “He called you little.”
“He does that,” Regulus said.
“It sounded hostile.”
“It usually does.”
“Should I bite him?”
“No.”
Sirius exhaled sharply through his nose. “This place has security.”
“I’m aware.”
“They’re not going to let you stroll past several hundred people because you’ve decided you’re special.”
Dorcas gave a quiet snort.
Evan looked down, hiding a smile.
Pandora’s eyes brightened.
Regulus’s expression did not change.
“I haven’t decided I’m special.”
“Good.”
“Other people decided it for me.”
James stared at him.
Then at the others.
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Barty said, “that life is cruel, the world is unjust, and Regulus has cheekbones recognised by the international fashion industry.”
There was a beat of silence.
Peter frowned. “What?”
Before anyone could answer, a voice came from the entrance.
“Reggie?”
Regulus looked around.
The largest of the three bouncers stationed beside the black doors had stepped away from his post.
He was broad-shouldered and tall, dressed in a fitted black suit with a discreet earpiece curled behind one ear. He looked as though he could remove a drunk man from the premises using one hand and finish a crossword with the other.
His severe professional expression vanished the moment he recognised Regulus.
“Well, fuck me,” he said warmly. “Look who’s finally decided to grace us with his presence.”
Regulus smiled.
“Mason.”
Mason crossed the pavement in several long strides.
The velvet rope was unhooked before Sirius had fully realised what was happening.
Then Mason swept Regulus into a hug.
Not a polite, distant greeting.
A proper hug.
He wrapped both arms around Regulus’s narrow waist, lifted him clean off the pavement and spun him once while Regulus laughed and grabbed his shoulders.
Sirius’s jaw dropped.
James made a strangled sound.
Mason set Regulus down but kept one arm around him, looking him over with exaggerated appreciation.
“Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” he said. “You trying to kill somebody tonight?”
Regulus glanced down at himself. “No.”
“That outfit says otherwise.”
“It’s trousers and a shirt.”
“It’s your arse in those trousers that’s causing the problem.”
Barty nodded seriously. “We’ve been saying that.”
“No, you haven’t,” Regulus said.
“I thought it.”
Mason turned Regulus slightly by the hips and gave a low, theatrical groan.
“Absolute menace. Look at you.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, though his smile remained.
“You say that every time.”
“Because every time you turn up somehow looking even sexier than the last. What am I supposed to do? Lie?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t. Company policy.”
“There is no company policy requiring you to comment on my arse.”
“There should be.”
Dorcas leaned towards Lily. “He does this every week.”
“We’re trying to have it added to the employee handbook,” Evan said.
Mason finally glanced towards the others trapped behind the rope.
He looked at Sirius first.
Then James.
Then the rest of them.
His brows lifted.
“Friends of yours?”
Regulus hesitated just long enough to be insulting.
“Acquaintances.”
“Fuck off,” Sirius said.
Mason laughed.
“Brother?” he guessed.
“Unfortunately,” Regulus and Sirius said at the same time.
Mason’s grin widened.
“I see the resemblance.”
“No, you don’t,” both brothers replied.
Barty clapped once. “Brilliant. Horrible. Do it again.”
Sirius ignored him and looked at Mason.
“They’re cutting the queue.”
Mason glanced at the five standing beside him.
“Yes.”
Sirius waited.
Mason waited too.
“Well?” Sirius demanded.
“Well what?”
“You’re security.”
“Correct.”
“You’re supposed to stop people cutting in.”
“Usually.”
“And?”
“And I’m not stopping them.”
James gestured helplessly. “Why not?”
Mason’s arm remained around Regulus’s shoulders.
“Because he doesn’t queue.”
“He doesn’t queue?” Marlene echoed.
“No.”
“Everyone queues.”
Mason looked towards the velvet ropes.
“Clearly not.”
Marlene stared at him.
Alice touched her arm. “Don’t fight the bouncer.”
“I’m not fighting him.”
“You’re looking like you’re considering it.”
“I’m thinking about the principle.”
“The principle is six foot five.”
“Six foot four,” Mason corrected.
“Thank you,” Alice said.
“You’re welcome.”
Frank quietly moved half a step closer to Marlene, just in case her concern for social equality overpowered her survival instincts.
Remus studied Regulus.
There was a quiet thoughtfulness in his expression now, suspicion gathering behind it.
“You come here often,” he said.
Regulus shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” Dorcas repeated. “You were here four nights last week.”
“One was dinner.”
“One was breakfast.”
“The breakfast was after the previous night,” Evan said. “That counts as one continuous visit.”
“It absolutely does not,” Dorcas replied.
James glanced between them. “How are you even getting into this place four times a week?”
Regulus looked at him.
Barty looked delighted.
Pandora began to smile.
Evan closed his eyes briefly as though accepting that the secret—if it could still be called a secret—was about to become public.
Sirius noticed.
“What?” he demanded. “Why are you all making those faces?”
“What faces?” Barty asked innocently.
“Those smug little faces.”
“This is my natural face.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It could be.”
Mason glanced down at Regulus. “They genuinely don’t know?”
“Apparently not.”
“Know what?” Mary asked.
Mason gave Regulus an incredulous look.
“You haven’t told your brother?”
“Why would I?”
“Because it’s funny.”
“It wasn’t relevant.”
Sirius stepped closer to the rope. “What wasn’t relevant?”
Regulus opened his mouth.
Barty spoke first.
“Regulus is famous.”
Regulus turned his head slowly.
“I’m not famous.”
“Minorly famous,” Evan corrected.
“Fashion-famous,” Pandora said.
“Rich-people-famous,” Dorcas added.
“Internet-famous in certain very thirsty corners,” Barty said.
Regulus looked at him.
Barty held up both hands. “That one is objectively true.”
Sirius’s expression went blank.
James blinked.
Peter’s mouth opened slightly.
Lily frowned. “Fashion-famous?”
Mary’s eyes narrowed as she looked more carefully at Regulus’s face.
Then she froze.
“Oh my God.”
Everyone looked at her.
Mary pointed.
“I’ve seen you.”
Regulus sighed.
“Where?” James asked.
“That campaign,” Mary said. “The jewellery one. The black-and-white photographs with the chains and the—”
She gestured vaguely around her own throat.
Regulus’s silver necklace caught the light.
Mary’s eyes widened further.
“That was you.”
“Yes.”
“The one in Milan?”
“Yes.”
“You were on the side of a building.”
“It wasn’t a very large building.”
“It was six storeys.”
“Moderate.”
Mary grabbed Lily’s arm. “I sent you that photo.”
Lily stared at Regulus.
“You did.”
“You said the model looked like he knew everybody’s secrets.”
“I remember.”
Regulus appeared faintly pleased by that.
James looked from Mary to Regulus.
“You were on a building?”
“Briefly.”
“How can somebody be briefly on a building?” Peter asked.
“The advertisement changed,” Remus said.
“Oh.”
Marlene frowned. “Wait. You’re actually a model?”
“A high-end model,” Barty corrected.
“He’s done campaigns for brands that refuse to put prices on their websites,” Evan said.
“Because displaying numbers would frighten the poor,” Dorcas added.
Regulus gave them a flat look. “Are you finished?”
“No,” Barty said.
Regulus sighed again.
Sirius was still staring.
“You’re a model.”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Two years ago.”
“Two years?”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me?”
“You once spent twenty minutes telling me that modelling was standing still while somebody with a camera developed an eating disorder.”
Sirius grimaced.
“I was drunk.”
“You were drinking lemonade.”
“I was emotionally drunk.”
“That isn’t a thing.”
“It is for him,” Remus said.
James squinted at Regulus, as though expecting to suddenly recognise him from the cover of a magazine.
“Have I seen you anywhere?”
“Probably.”
“That’s deeply unhelpful.”
“He was in the window of Harrow & Finch for six months,” Mary said.
James looked appalled. “I walk past Harrow & Finch every week.”
“You never look at clothes,” Lily said.
“I look at clothes.”
“You once asked me if corduroy was a colour.”
“I was tired.”
Peter looked fascinated. “Do you get free clothes?”
“Sometimes,” Regulus said.
“Loads,” Barty corrected.
“Shoes too,” Pandora said.
“And jewellery,” Dorcas added.
“And invitations,” Evan said.
“And obscene gift bags,” Barty said. “He gave me a face cream last month that costs more than my rent.”
“You used it,” Regulus said.
“Obviously. My skin was incredible.”
Mason nodded. “It was glowing.”
“Thank you.”
Sirius rubbed a hand across his face.
“This still doesn’t explain why you can skip the queue.”
“It explains some of it,” Evan said.
“Some?”
Barty’s grin returned with renewed force.
“Oh, this is my favourite part.”
Regulus gave him a warning look.
Barty ignored it.
“He’s also a sugar baby.”
The words landed in the middle of the conversation like a dropped bottle.
Silence followed.
A taxi rolled past.
Music thudded faintly behind the Halcyon’s walls.
Somewhere farther down the queue, a woman laughed at something unrelated.
James made a noise that did not resemble a word.
Sirius’s face emptied of all expression.
Lily blinked.
Alice’s lips parted.
Frank looked abruptly interested in the pavement.
Fabian looked at Gideon.
Gideon looked back at Fabian.
Peter whispered, “Oh.”
Mary whispered, “Oh.”
Marlene said, much louder, “You’re a what?”
Regulus glared at Barty.
Barty beamed.
“You said famous,” Sirius said slowly.
“He is famous.”
“You didn’t say—”
“Sugar baby is a separate category.”
“Stop categorising my brother!”
“Somebody has to.”
Regulus folded his arms. “I hate all of you.”
“No, you don’t,” Pandora said.
“I currently do.”
“Only lightly.”
“Who?” Sirius demanded.
Regulus’s gaze shifted to him.
“Who what?”
“Who is he?”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know.”
“You want to investigate him.”
“Obviously.”
“You’re not investigating my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” James repeated.
Barty looked at him. “That’s usually what people call the man they’re dating.”
“I know what boyfriend means.”
“Excellent. That saves time.”
Sirius ignored them.
“What’s his name?”
Regulus’s expression became deliberately bland.
“Julian Harcourt.”
The reaction was not immediate.
Not from everyone.
Frank frowned as though searching his memory.
Alice tilted her head.
Marlene looked unimpressed.
Then Remus’s eyebrows rose.
Lily’s mouth fell open.
Mary’s grip tightened on Lily’s arm.
Fabian whispered, “No.”
Gideon whispered back, “Surely not.”
James looked between them. “Who’s Julian Harcourt?”
There was a collective turn towards him.
James looked defensive. “What?”
“The Julian Harcourt?” Lily asked.
Regulus nodded.
James spread his hands. “Again—who?”
“The Harcourt Group,” Remus said.
James stared.
Remus sighed. “Hotels. Property. Restaurants. Casinos. Private clubs.”
James looked at the enormous building beside them.
Then slowly back at Regulus.
“No.”
Regulus’s mouth twitched.
Mary pointed towards the illuminated Halcyon emblem. “He owns this.”
“Not all of it,” Regulus said.
“Most of it,” Mason corrected.
“He owns the hotel,” Evan said. “And substantial stakes in the restaurants, casino and club.”
“He owns enough of it,” Dorcas added, “that when he walks into a meeting, everybody else starts sitting straighter.”
Barty draped an arm around Regulus’s shoulders.
“And he is tragically, pathetically, disgustingly obsessed with our darling Reggie.”
Regulus removed Barty’s arm.
“He isn’t pathetic.”
“He sent a driver across London at two in the morning because you said you wanted strawberries.”
“I was hungry.”
“He had strawberries in the suite.”
“I wanted the chocolate-covered ones from Bellamy’s.”
“There was a storm.”
“It was raining.”
“There were weather warnings.”
“That was later.”
Pandora nodded thoughtfully. “The strawberries were very good.”
“You ate half of them,” Regulus said.
“I was comparing the chocolate.”
Sirius looked faintly unwell.
“You’re dating the man who owns the hotel.”
“Yes.”
“And he gives you whatever you want.”
Regulus considered it.
“Usually.”
“Usually?” James echoed.
“He said no when Regulus asked for a penguin,” Dorcas said.
“It was not a serious request,” Regulus replied.
“Julian still rang a private zoo to check,” Evan said.
Regulus looked away.
Barty pointed at him. “See? Spoiled.”
“I didn’t get the penguin.”
“You got a weekend in Iceland because he felt guilty about the penguin.”
“That was unrelated.”
“It was booked six hours later.”
“Coincidence.”
Mason laughed so hard that his arm slipped from Regulus’s shoulders.
Sirius stared at his brother in mounting disbelief.
“You’re a high-end model.”
“Yes.”
“You’re dating a millionaire.”
“Billionaire,” Evan corrected quietly.
Sirius snapped his head towards him.
Evan lifted one shoulder. “Accuracy matters.”
“Don’t help.”
Regulus’s lips twitched again.
Sirius pointed at him. “And you’re apparently being flown around the world and given expensive clothes and chocolate-covered strawberries in storms.”
“It was barely raining.”
“Stop defending the weather!”
“I’m clarifying.”
“You’re a sugar baby.”
Regulus’s eyes narrowed.
“And?”
Sirius opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Nothing emerged.
Marlene leaned closer to Mary. “I think he’s broken.”
“He’ll restart eventually,” Mary whispered.
“I can hear you,” Sirius said.
“Promising signs,” Mary replied.
James was still trying to process the information.
“So because you’re dating the owner—”
“One of the owners,” Regulus corrected.
“—you can just walk inside?”
“Yes.”
“Without queueing.”
“Yes.”
“Whenever you like.”
“Yes.”
James looked at the doors.
Then at the ten people still ahead of him.
Then at Regulus.
“That’s evil.”
“It’s efficient.”
“You knew we were standing here.”
“I didn’t know until you shouted.”
“And you’re still leaving us here?”
Regulus considered him.
James straightened slightly.
For one dangerous second, hope appeared on his face.
Regulus smiled sweetly.
“Yes.”
James recoiled. “You’re horrible.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I accepted it as one.”
Mason unhooked the next section of rope and stepped aside.
“Come on, then. Before Liam starts wondering where you are.”
At the mention of another name, Sirius’s attention sharpened.
“Who’s Liam?”
“The manager on tonight,” Mason said.
Sirius relaxed by perhaps one millimetre.
Mason noticed and grinned.
“You really are the brother.”
“I’m beginning to regret it.”
“You began regretting it when I was six,” Regulus said.
“You set fire to my homework.”
“You blamed me for breaking Mother’s lamp.”
“You did break it.”
“You couldn’t prove that.”
“You admitted it.”
“Years later.”
Barty clapped Regulus on the back. “Growth.”
Evan nodded. “Accountability.”
“Delayed accountability,” Dorcas said.
Pandora smiled. “Like a flower that only blooms under threat of legal action.”
Sirius pointed towards the entrance.
“Wait. If he can take guests, why can’t he bring us in?”
There was a sudden stillness.
All eyes turned towards Regulus.
Regulus looked at Sirius.
Sirius lifted his eyebrows.
“Well?”
Barty’s smile became viciously bright.
“Oh, that’s embarrassing.”
“What is?”
“You assumed he likes you.”
“I’m his brother.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
James leaned over the rope again. “Come on, Regulus. There are eleven of us.”
“Yes,” Regulus said. “That is part of the problem.”
Mason winced sympathetically.
“Guest allowance usually covers six without advance notice.”
“There are five of us,” Evan said.
James’s eyes lit up. “So there’s one spare.”
Everyone looked at him.
James looked back.
“What?”
Lily pinched the bridge of her nose.
“You’re volunteering yourself?”
“I’m identifying a mathematical possibility.”
“You are abandoning us at the first mathematical opportunity,” Peter said.
“I would return for you.”
“Would you?”
James hesitated.
Peter nodded. “Exactly.”
Regulus regarded James with quiet amusement.
“There is one spare.”
James straightened.
“But,” Regulus continued, “I’m saving it.”
“For who?”
“My dignity.”
Barty bent over laughing.
Dorcas put a hand against the wall.
Even Mason had to look away.
James stared at Regulus, betrayed.
“That was cruel.”
“It was a little cruel,” Alice agreed, though she was smiling.
Regulus gave her a brief apologetic look.
“Sorry, Alice.”
James put a hand to his chest. “Why does Alice get an apology?”
“Because I like her.”
Alice smiled brightly.
Frank looked pleased on her behalf.
James looked outraged.
“You don’t like me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied that I like Alice.”
“And me?”
Regulus’s gaze slid over him.
James waited.
Regulus turned back towards Mason.
James made a wounded noise.
Sirius jabbed a finger towards Evan. “And what exactly are all of you doing here so often?”
Evan’s expression became smug.
“I work here.”
Sirius looked him up and down.
“As what?”
“Magician.”
Silence.
Then Marlene burst out laughing.
Evan gave her a cool look.
“You’re a magician?” James asked.
“Primarily card work and close-up illusions in the casino.”
Peter brightened. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Can you make money disappear?”
“The casino does that without my help.”
Remus smiled.
Marlene was still laughing. “Do you wear a cape?”
“No.”
“Top hat?”
“No.”
“Sparkly waistcoat?”
“No.”
“Can you pull Barty out of a box?”
“I’ve tried putting him in one.”
Barty straightened. “It lacked ventilation.”
“It was open at the top.”
“I need lateral airflow.”
“What about a wand?” Fabian asked.
Evan stared at him.
Fabian shrugged. “Traditional question.”
“I use cards, coins and occasionally borrowed jewellery.”
“Do you give the jewellery back?” Gideon asked.
“Usually.”
“Why usually?” Lily asked.
“Because drunk men forget what they handed me.”
“Then Regulus gets it,” Barty said.
“I do not.”
“You kept that watch.”
“The man insisted.”
“He thought you were pretty.”
“That does happen a lot,” Mason said.
Regulus glanced at him. “You’re making this worse.”
“Sweetheart, I watched a hedge-fund manager walk into a pillar because you smiled at him. I’m only reporting facts.”
Mary laughed.
Sirius did not.
“Right,” he said. “Evan works here. What about the rest of you?”
Dorcas raised a hand lazily. “My girlfriend works reception upstairs.”
“Which receptionist?” Mason asked.
“Naomi.”
“Love Naomi.”
“So do I,” Dorcas replied. “Rather more, hopefully.”
“She gets us hotel breakfast when she works early shifts,” Pandora said.
“And complains when Dorcas distracts her at the desk,” Evan added.
“I don’t distract her.”
“You sat on the counter for forty minutes.”
“She asked me to.”
“She was trying to print room keys around your legs.”
“She managed.”
Mason nodded. “Naomi is talented.”
Dorcas smiled.
Sirius looked towards Barty. “And you?”
Barty drew himself up.
“I have a job interview next Thursday.”
“As?”
“Bartender.”
Marlene’s laughter returned.
Barty’s eyes narrowed. “Why is that funny?”
“You’re banned from two pubs.”
“Three,” Dorcas corrected.
“One was a misunderstanding.”
“You climbed over the bar.”
“The bartender was slow.”
“You started making drinks.”
“People were thirsty.”
“You charged them.”
“That’s commerce.”
“You stole the till bell.”
“It was charming.”
Pandora reached into her clutch and produced a small brass bell.
Barty stared.
Mason stared.
Everyone stared.
Pandora rang it once.
A bright little ding sounded beneath the awning.
Barty pointed at it. “You told me you lost that.”
“I said it was no longer where you left it.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It rarely is.”
Regulus gently pushed Pandora’s hand down.
“Put it away before somebody recognises it.”
“The owner of the pub already knows he has it,” Dorcas said.
“Has what?” Pandora asked.
“The bell.”
Pandora looked down at it.
“Oh.”
She returned it to her bag.
Lily stared at her. “Why do you have a stolen pub bell?”
“It likes me.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“It answers a different one.”
Sirius looked exhausted.
“And Pandora?”
“The restaurant kitchens,” Pandora said.
“You work there?” Frank asked.
“No.”
“Then why are you in the kitchen?”
“They let me cook.”
“You just walk into a professional kitchen and start cooking?” Lily asked.
“Not immediately. First I wash my hands.”
“That was not the concerning part.”
“The chefs like her,” Regulus explained.
“Most of them,” Evan said.
“One is afraid of her.”
“He misunderstood the mushrooms,” Pandora replied.
Barty snorted.
Mason covered a smile with his fist.
“What mushrooms?” Peter asked.
“No,” Lily said quickly. “We don’t need to know.”
Pandora looked disappointed.
“They let her experiment when service is quiet,” Regulus continued. “And she brings them herbs.”
“And occasionally pastries,” Pandora said.
“The pastry chef loves her,” Dorcas added.
“The pastry chef loves Regulus,” Barty corrected. “Pandora is tolerated because she arrives attached.”
Regulus gave him a flat stare.
Barty grinned.
Mason nodded towards Regulus. “Half the staff in this building love him.”
“More than half,” Evan said.
“Reception keeps photographs,” Dorcas said.
“They are promotional photographs,” Regulus protested.
“One is on Naomi’s locker.”
“She asked.”
“The night staff have a ranking system for your outfits,” Mason said.
Regulus looked at him in horror.
“They what?”
“Tonight’s going top three.”
“You’ve never told me this.”
“It’s anonymous.”
“You just told me.”
“I didn’t tell you who voted.”
“Mason.”
“Come on, Reggie. Look at you.”
Regulus glanced down at his trousers again.
Sirius made an irritated sound.
“Stop looking at his arse.”
Mason turned to him.
“I work security. Observation is essential.”
“That’s my little brother.”
“He’s an adult.”
“He’s still my little brother.”
Regulus looked at Sirius. “I’m standing here.”
“I know.”
“Then stop discussing me like I’m a disputed handbag.”
James looked at Regulus’s outfit again.
Sirius noticed.
“Potter.”
James snapped his gaze upwards. “What?”
“Eyes up.”
“My eyes were up.”
“They were approximately waist height.”
“I was looking at the tailoring.”
“You don’t know what corduroy is.”
“I know now.”
Regulus looked between them.
Then smiled.
It was small and knowing.
James immediately looked flustered.
Barty saw it.
“Oh,” he said softly. “Interesting.”
James glared at him. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You made a sound.”
“I breathe. It’s a medical necessity.”
“Not for much longer,” Sirius muttered.
Mason checked the entrance, where one of the other bouncers had lifted a hand to indicate that the small group currently being admitted had cleared the doors.
“All right,” he said. “We need to move. Julian’s table is ready, and there’s champagne upstairs.”
Regulus looked at him. “He isn’t here tonight.”
“No, but he rang.”
“Of course he did,” Evan said.
Mason grinned. “Said to make sure you get whatever you want.”
Sirius made a strangled noise.
Regulus ignored him.
“What champagne?”
“The one you liked at the gallery opening.”
Regulus’s expression brightened despite himself.
“The rosé?”
“The obscenely expensive pink one, yes.”
Barty threw an arm into the air. “I love capitalism!”
“You spent all afternoon complaining about capitalism,” Dorcas said.
“That was before it bought me champagne.”
“It didn’t buy you champagne,” Evan said. “Julian bought Regulus champagne.”
“And Regulus loves me.”
Regulus stared at him.
Barty slowly lowered his arm.
“Regulus tolerates me.”
“Better.”
James glanced through the open doorway.
Warm amber light spilled across polished black floors. Beyond the entrance hall, a broad staircase curved upwards beside a wall of rippling water. Music pulsed from somewhere deeper within the building. Staff in immaculate black uniforms moved between guests carrying trays of drinks.
It looked warm.
It looked expensive.
It looked, most painfully, indoors.
James turned back to Regulus.
“You really aren’t going to take any of us with you?”
Regulus adjusted the cuff of his shirt.
“No.”
“Not even me?”
“No.”
“I bought you coffee last week.”
“You drank most of it.”
“I was checking the temperature.”
“With your mouth?”
“It’s the most accurate method.”
Regulus smiled faintly.
For a moment, James thought he might be weakening.
Then Regulus leaned closer to the rope.
“You’re only ten people away.”
James’s face fell.
Sirius scoffed. “Smug bastard.”
“Jealous bastard.”
“Sugar baby.”
“Queueing civilian.”
Barty let out a shriek of laughter.
Dorcas slapped a hand over her mouth.
Pandora leaned against Evan, delighted.
Even Remus laughed at that.
Sirius looked deeply offended.
“Queueing civilian?”
Regulus stepped backwards towards the entrance.
“Yes.”
“You can’t call me that.”
“I just did.”
“I’ll get inside eventually.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“And then what?”
“Then you’ll pay eighteen pounds for a drink I’m getting free.”
Sirius stared at him.
Regulus’s smile widened.
“Goodnight.”
“It isn’t goodnight. We’re going to the same place.”
“You’re currently going nowhere.”
Marlene put her fist against her mouth.
Mary turned away, shoulders shaking.
Lily failed to hide a smile.
Sirius looked around at them all.
“Why is everybody laughing?”
“Because,” Remus said, “queueing civilian was quite good.”
“You’re meant to support me.”
“I’ve supported you for seventy-three minutes. I’m tired.”
Mason held the rope open.
Evan stepped through first, giving the group an elegant little nod.
“Do enjoy the pavement.”
“Fuck you, Rosier,” Marlene called.
“Not without dinner.”
Marlene blinked.
Evan smiled and walked on.
Dorcas followed, lifting two fingers in farewell.
“See you inside. Possibly.”
“That sounded threatening,” Frank said.
“It was aspirational,” Dorcas replied.
Pandora paused beside Lily.
“The kitchen serves little pear tarts after midnight,” she said. “They’re very good.”
Lily stared at her.
Pandora smiled kindly.
“Perhaps there will be some left when you arrive.”
Then she drifted through the entrance.
Barty came next, walking backwards so he could continue grinning at the people behind the rope.
“I’d offer to save you seats,” he said, “but we won’t be sitting.”
“Go away,” Sirius snapped.
“Can’t. I’ve been invited inside.”
“Your interview hasn’t happened yet.”
“No, but nepotism is blossoming.”
“That isn’t nepotism.”
“Favouritism, then.”
“Regulus doesn’t employ you.”
“Not officially.”
“I do not employ you unofficially either,” Regulus said.
Barty pointed at him. “He pays for dinner.”
“That’s friendship.”
“Employment with emotional benefits.”
“Get inside.”
“Yes, boss.”
Barty saluted and vanished through the doors.
Mason offered Regulus his arm with exaggerated formality.
Regulus took it.
Before stepping through, however, he glanced back.
His gaze travelled across the queue-bound group one final time.
Alice offered him a small wave.
Regulus waved back.
Frank nodded.
Regulus returned it.
Peter looked hopeful for reasons nobody understood.
Fabian and Gideon were whispering to one another, probably calculating whether they could claim to be part of Regulus’s party if they moved quickly enough.
Mary looked impressed.
Marlene looked annoyed but amused.
Lily appeared to be fighting both.
Remus watched him with quiet entertainment.
James had arranged his face into the most wounded expression he could manage.
Sirius still looked as though he had just discovered a personal betrayal committed by the concept of wealth itself.
Regulus smiled.
“Try not to cause trouble.”
Sirius barked out a laugh. “You’re saying that to us?”
“Yes.”
“You’re walking into a private club with Barty.”
“And security knows him by name.”
“That isn’t reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
Mason began guiding Regulus towards the door.
James called after him.
“Regulus!”
Regulus looked over his shoulder.
James pointed towards the entrance.
“Tell them we’re with you.”
“No.”
“I’ll buy you coffee.”
“You already owe me one.”
“I’ll buy you two.”
Regulus considered it for half a second.
Then shook his head.
“My boyfriend owns a coffee company.”
James’s shoulders slumped.
“Of course he does.”
“He owns shares,” Regulus corrected.
“Stop correcting the degree to which your boyfriend is rich!”
Regulus laughed.
The sound followed him across the threshold.
Mason’s hand settled briefly at the small of his back as they passed through the doors, and the final glimpse they caught was of Regulus being greeted by a woman at the reception podium who abandoned her professional expression entirely.
“Reggie!”
“Hello, Naomi.”
Dorcas immediately moved towards her.
Naomi reached across the podium to kiss her, one hand curling into the front of Dorcas’s jacket.
Barty began applauding.
Evan was greeted by a casino supervisor who handed him a deck of cards and said something that made him smirk.
Pandora spotted a chef emerging from a side corridor and disappeared after him with both arms raised.
Regulus turned once more, framed by gold light and polished black marble.
He lifted his fingers in a tiny wave.
Then the doors closed.
The pavement felt suddenly colder.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
The line moved forward.
Exactly one place.
James shuffled automatically with it.
Sirius remained staring at the closed doors.
Mary was the first to break the silence.
“So,” she said.
Sirius did not look at her.
Mary’s smile grew.
“Your brother is a model.”
Silence.
“And a sugar baby,” Fabian added.
Sirius closed his eyes.
“To a billionaire,” Gideon said.
“Who owns the hotel,” Peter contributed.
“And shares in the club,” Frank said.
“And apparently a coffee company,” James muttered.
Alice patted Sirius’s arm.
“At least he seems happy.”
Sirius opened his eyes.
“He called me a queueing civilian.”
Remus nodded. “He did.”
“In public.”
“Yes.”
“In front of strangers.”
“Yes.”
Marlene looked past them at the doors.
“I hate to say it.”
“Then don’t,” Sirius said.
“But that was one of the funniest things he’s ever said.”
Sirius turned on her.
“You’re meant to be angry. They cut the queue.”
“I am angry.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I can multitask.”
Lily looked thoughtful.
“High-end modelling makes sense.”
Sirius swung towards her. “Does it?”
“He photographs well.”
“You’ve seen photographs?”
Mary pulled out her phone.
“I can find the campaign.”
“No.”
“It’ll take two seconds.”
“Mary.”
She was already typing.
James moved closer immediately.
“Show me.”
Sirius shoved his shoulder. “No.”
“What? I’m curious.”
“You were looking at his tailoring five minutes ago.”
“It was very well tailored.”
“You don’t know what tailoring is.”
“I know it involved trousers.”
Mary found the image.
“Oh, here.”
Everyone crowded around.
Even Sirius looked despite himself.
On the screen, Regulus stood against a pale stone wall in a long black coat, his head tilted slightly, one hand resting at his throat beneath a series of silver chains. His expression was cool and remote, his dark eyes fixed on the camera with the sort of quiet arrogance that suggested the jewellery, the photographer and everyone viewing the advertisement were fortunate to exist in the same world as him.
Across the bottom was the name of a luxury jewellery house.
James stared.
“He does know everybody’s secrets.”
“That’s what Lily said,” Mary replied.
Lily leaned closer. “He looks different.”
“He looks expensive,” Marlene said.
“He is expensive,” Gideon corrected.
Fabian nodded. “There’s a billionaire maintaining him.”
Sirius made a sound of disgust.
Alice took the phone.
“He looks lovely.”
Frank peered over her shoulder. “Good coat.”
“Thank you, Frank,” Sirius said. “Excellent contribution.”
Frank shrugged. “It is.”
Peter frowned at the photograph.
“Do you think he kept the chains?”
“Probably,” Mary said.
“Julian probably bought the company,” James muttered.
Remus smiled. “You sound jealous.”
James looked at him.
“I’m jealous of anyone currently inside.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
James narrowed his eyes.
Remus’s smile remained mild.
Sirius stepped between them.
“No.”
James blinked. “No what?”
“Whatever that was.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Something almost happened.”
“It didn’t.”
“Good.”
James looked back towards the doors.
“Do you think he’ll come back out?”
“No,” Sirius said.
“Maybe he’ll feel guilty.”
“He won’t.”
“He might.”
“He absolutely won’t.”
The queue moved forward another place.
Nine people remained.
Through the dark glass, they could see only vague shapes and shifting light.
Then, faintly, the doors opened again to admit a departing couple.
For one brief moment, music surged onto the pavement.
Inside, visible beyond the entrance hall, Regulus was standing beside the sweeping staircase with a glass of pink champagne in one hand. Barty was saying something into his ear. Evan was shuffling a deck of cards between his fingers. Dorcas had an arm around Naomi’s waist. Pandora had acquired a white chef’s jacket from somewhere and was wearing it over her dress.
Regulus looked towards the doors.
He saw them.
He raised his glass.
Sirius raised one finger in response.
The doors closed again.
Mason’s laughter could be heard even through the glass.
James sighed.
“I hate rich people.”
“You wanted to come here,” Lily reminded him.
“I hate rich people from inside exclusive clubs.”
“You want to be a rich person inside an exclusive club.”
“Yes.”
“That’s different,” Peter said.
“Thank you.”
“It isn’t,” Lily replied.
The line shifted once more.
Eight people.
Sirius shoved his hands into his pockets and stared grimly towards the entrance.
“He’s going to be unbearable after this.”
Remus looked at him.
“After?”
Sirius frowned.
“What?”
Remus glanced meaningfully towards the doors.
“I think he already was.”
From somewhere inside the Halcyon, muffled by marble, glass and several million pounds’ worth of exclusivity, Barty Crouch Jr.’s delighted laughter rang out.
Sirius’s expression darkened.
The silver sun above the entrance continued to gleam.
James looked up at it.
“It’s definitely mocking us.”
This time, nobody disagreed.