Chapter Text
Regulus Black had been born angry at the world.
At sixteen, nothing had changed. He suspected nothing ever would. He was angry at the universe for handing him the life it had, angry at his parents, angry at his brother, angry at himself for standing still while his life happened to him.
Most of all, he was angry at James Potter.
Angry because James had stolen his brother when Regulus had needed him most. Angry because James had become the brother Regulus could never be, the brother Sirius had always deserved. Angry because everything seemed to come so effortlessly to him, and he accepted it all with the careless confidence of someone who believed the world offered everyone the same chances it had offered him.
So Regulus Black had arrived on James Potter's doorstep one freezing evening in late December.
He'd run away, not for attention, nor to prove a point.
He'd simply reached the end of what he could survive inside Grimmauld Place.
By the time he'd stumbled up the Potters' garden path, he was soaked through, bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow, and so consumed by equal parts rage and terror that he'd barely managed to stay standing long enough to knock.
And where else was he supposed to go?
James Potter had always suffered from a spectacular hero complex. If there was someone to rescue, James would find them. If there was a problem to solve, he'd throw himself at it headfirst, regardless of whether he had a plan - Regulus found it infuriating.
Especially considering James had also become the person Sirius turned to after he had run away, the brother Sirius had chosen.
And yet, when Regulus had found himself with nowhere else to go, he'd ended up on James Potter's doorstep all the same.
James's house was almost exactly as Regulus had imagined it.
Even through the pain and exhaustion, when he'd finally stumbled up the garden path and stopped outside the front door, he found himself laughing, a weak, breathless sound, at how perfectly it matched the picture he'd built in his head over the years.
Since Christmas, Regulus had spent every school holiday at the Potters'.
Euphemia and Fleamont had welcomed him with open arms, never once making him feel like an obligation nor extra work. Sirius had been just as welcoming, only vastly more emotional about it.
James was... well, James.
He treated Regulus as though he'd always belonged there, as though his presence required no explanation or careful handling. Strangely enough, it was a relief. Everyone else seemed determined to tiptoe around him, afraid he might shatter if they said the wrong thing.
James never did.
He argued with him, mocked him, stole food from his plate, and expected him to give as good as he got. It was infuriating.
It was also, Regulus had reluctantly come to admit, exactly what he needed.
Regulus often found himself thinking about how far he'd come since walking away from that house. Sometimes it felt impossible that the frightened, half-dead boy who had collapsed on the Potters' doorstep was the same person he was now.
He'd come a long way in every sense of the phrase.
The anger was still there, it always would be he reckoned, but it no longer consumed every part of him. He laughed more than he used to. Slept easier, breathed easier.
And the Potters house had inevitably become home.
He suspected it always would be.
It was nice to have his brother back, too. Really back this time, instead of existing as someone Regulus only caught glimpses of between school terms and Order meetings.
Of course, getting Sirius back inevitably meant getting James as well. The pair of them seemed physically incapable of existing apart, and although people do joke about that all the time, Regulus can confirm it is very true, and James had a habit of inserting himself into whatever the brothers happened to be doing.
Regulus found it deeply irritating, yet he also found that he didn't mind nearly as much as he pretended to.
James was... nice.
It was a strange word for someone like him, but it fit. He cared without smothering, worried without hovering. Regulus had come to realise that James always seemed to find the perfect balance, responsible without being uptight, endlessly teasing without ever being cruel, protective without making Regulus feel fragile.
It was comforting.
There were days when everything and everyone felt like too much. On those days, James was one of the few people Regulus could stand to be around. He never demanded conversation, never forced distractions, never treated silence like something that needed fixing (although Regulus can admit that seeing James Potter sit in silence is quite unusual).
James was good at reading people. Almost as good as Regulus.
He noticed the little things: the way Regulus's shoulders tensed, the clipped answers, the quiet that meant leave me alone in contrast to the quiet that meant don't leave me. And somehow James quickly adjusted. Sometimes he'd fill the silence with ridiculous stories until Regulus rolled his eyes. Other times he'd simply exist beside him, content with the quiet.
It was infuriating how effortlessly he seemed to know exactly what Regulus needed. More infuriating still was the fact that he was almost always right.
A small smile tugged at Regulus's lips as he packed the last of his things into his trunk.
Somewhere behind him, Barty and Evans were in the middle of yet another argument. Regulus had long since stopped listening, their voices fading into little more than background noise as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
To the summer. To the Potters' house.
To Sirius, to Euphemia and Fleamont, and, rather annoyingly, to James.
A while ago now, the idea of looking forward to anything had felt impossible. Now, he found himself excited about what the next few months would bring, already picturing lazy, sunny mornings, noisy dinners, and afternoons spent with people who had somehow become his family.
It was a nice feeling, though one he was still learning not to distrust.
"Reg, do you really need your black Converse for the summer?" Barty whined, successfully dragging Regulus out of his thoughts.
Regulus looked up from his trunk with a flat stare, one hand still resting on the offending pair of trainers. "Yes."
Barty sighed dramatically, as though Regulus had personally inconvenienced him. "They're black," he complained. "It's summer."
"They're shoes."
"They're depressing."
"They're comfortable."
"They're an attack on seasonal fashion."
Regulus blinked. "I don't think seasonal fashion is real."
Barty gasped in mock horror. "Evan, did you hear that?"
Evan scoffed from across the room, not even bothering to look up as he shoved the last of his clothes into his trunk. "We both know you're only doing this because you want to nick them, Barty. Just buy your own."
Barty clutched a hand to his chest as Evan's accusation landed, then promptly smacked him on the shoulder. "I can't believe you'd think so little of me."
"I think exactly the right amount of you."
Before Barty could muster another dramatic rebuttal, a voice called from the corridor.
"Guys, we have to leave. Literally now."
Regulus let out a quiet sigh, giving the buckles on his trunk one final check before snapping it shut. He reached over to his bedside table, picked up the novel he'd been saving for the train, and tucked it under his arm.
"Come on," he muttered, already heading for the door.
Barty and Evan were still bickering as they followed after him. Some things, Regulus supposed, were reassuringly predictable.
By the time they reached the Great Hall to wait for the carriages down to the station, Regulus's eyes found Sirius almost immediately. Which, unfortunately, meant they also found James.
James was dressed in Muggle clothes for once, which consisted of a plain white vest and a pair of loose-fitting jeans. It was... irritatingly effective.
Regulus would swear until he was blue in the face, and then some, that James Potter was the most aggravating, insufferable, and wildly overrated person he'd ever had the misfortune of knowing. That did absolutely nothing to stop his gaze from lingering.
The vest clung to broad shoulders and sun-warmed skin, outlining arms that looked unfairly strong, while the effortless way James carried himself only made the whole thing worse.
It was deeply, profoundly inconvenient.
"Eyeing up Potter?" Barty's voice cut through his thoughts with infuriating precision. He let out a snort. "Wow. That's low, Reggie. Even for you."
Regulus tore his eyes away so quickly it almost hurt.
"You're insanely dramatic," he replied, hoping his voice sounded far more convincing than he felt.
Evan hummed thoughtfully, following Regulus's line of sight until his eyes landed on James.
"That vest's doing him wonders," he mused. "Does he work out?"
Regulus shot him a thoroughly unimpressed look.
"He plays Quidditch," he said flatly. "Of course he works out. Especially with biceps like—"
He stopped.
Too late.
"—like that."
The last two words had slipped out far softer than intended, carrying an almost absent-minded admiration that made Regulus want to throw himself under the train.
There was an awkward silence Then Evan burst into laughter.
"Oh, Merlin."
Barty doubled over beside him, wheezing.
"No," Evan gasped between laughs, pointing accusingly at Regulus. "You actually noticed his biceps."
Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I hate both of you."
"'Especially with biceps like that,'" Barty echoed dreamily, throwing the back of his hand against his forehead in a dramatic swoon before slinging an arm around Regulus's shoulders. "God, you're going to have a fantastic summer, Reggie."
"I'm transferring schools."
"You live with him."
"I'm becoming a nun."
"You'd last six hours."
Regulus sighed the sigh of a man who had made several catastrophic life choices.
"I really, really hate both of you."
Neither of them believed him for a second.
Across the hall, Sirius caught sight of him almost immediately.
"REG!"
He began waving Regulus over with such exaggerated enthusiasm that Remus, standing beside him, instinctively leaned out of the way to avoid an accidental smack to the face.
The commotion drew James's attention.
He turned, caught Regulus's eye, and smiled.
It was that same stupid, predictable grin James always wore, as if the world had never given him a reason not to, which it probably hadn't.
Regulus hated how easily it made his chest feel lighter.
James nudged Sirius sharply in the ribs before his friend could yell again, murmuring something that made Sirius roll his eyes, though he did lower his arms with exaggerated reluctance.
Regulus had a feeling James was telling him to calm down. To spare Regulus the spectacle. But for perhaps the first time in his life, Regulus was grateful for Sirius' interference.
"Two secs," he muttered to Barty and Evan, not waiting for either of them to answer before making his escape.
Behind him, Barty called, "Tell your boyfriend I like the vest!"
Regulus didn't dignify that with a response.
He simply kept walking towards his brother, silently adding Barty Crouch Jr. to the ever-growing list of people he intended to hex one day.
"Oi," Sirius greeted the second Regulus came within earshot, grinning so broadly it was like he'd won the lottery. "Finally. Thought you'd forgotten what I looked like."
Regulus snorted. "Hardly."
Sirius reached out without thinking, ruffling Regulus's hair, Regulus immediately batted his hand away, "Don't."
"You used to let me."
"I was eight."
"You loved it."
"I tolerated it."
"You adored me."
"I still tolerate you."
Sirius laughed, entirely too pleased with himself. "There he is."
Remus smiled from beside them, a well-worn paperback tucked under one arm. "Hi, Reg."
"Hi, Remus."
"Good summer?"
"So far."
Remus nodded knowingly. "I'm assuming Barty's already been a twat."
"Since breakfast."
"That's his baseline."
James, who'd been quietly watching the exchange with an amused smile, stepped forward. "Morning."
"Morning."
"You packed everything?"
Regulus lifted his book slightly. "I think so."
James frowned theatrically. "'Think so'?"
"I packed."
"Did you remember socks?"
Regulus pretended to think for a second just to rile him up, James raised an eyebrow.
"I remembered socks."
"Right."
"And underwear."
"I wasn't going to ask."
"You were thinking it."
"I absolutely was."
Regulus rolled his eyes. "You've known me for eight months and you've somehow become more annoying than Sirius."
James looked genuinely delighted. "Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
Sirius slung an arm around James's shoulders. "I keep telling him that. He just hears praise."
"It's a gift."
"It's a problem," Remus corrected.
Sirius hums and tilts his head, "I prefer 'gift.'"
Regulus shook his head. "I can't believe you willingly spend time together."
"We're charming," Sirius said.
"You're exhausting," Remus amended.
James shrugged. "I'd say were a bit of both."
Before Regulus could answer, Sirius clapped his hands together. "Right! Summer plans."
Regulus blinked.
"What about them?"
"We need to discuss important matters."
James groaned quietly. "Oh no."
"Oh yes," Sirius insisted. "Mum's already planning at least three family dinners."
"Five," James corrected.
Sirius stared. "...Five?"
"She told me yesterday."
"Traitor."
"I merely answered a question."
"Euphemia likes feeding people," Remus offered.
"She likes feeding Regulus," Sirius said, sounding faintly betrayed. "She asked me whether he preferred raspberry jam or strawberry."
Regulus frowned. "She asked me that too."
James laughed. "Yeah. She likes knowing everyone's favourites."
"I've been replaced," Sirius declared dramatically.
"You've been demoted," James agreed.
"Anyway," he continued, pointing at Regulus. "You're coming flying with us."
"I wasn't aware I had a choice."
"You don't."
"I thought as much."
"And," James added, "we're dragging you into the village at least once a week."
"For what?"
"For literally anything."
Regulus looked suspicious. "I don't trust 'literally anything.'"
"You shouldn't," James admitted. "Last time it ended with Sirius trying to adopt a goat."
"It liked me."
"It ate your sleeve."
"We had a connection."
"It bit you."
"A playful nibble."
Remus rubbed a hand over his face. "The goat hated him."
"It misunderstood me."
Regulus laughed, it escaped before he could stop it. It was a quiet, genuine laugh, but nonetheless embarrassing.
The four of them looked at him. "...What?"
James's smile softened almost imperceptibly. "Nothing."
Sirius beamed. "You laugh more now."
Regulus's ears warmed. "I've always laughed."
"No," Sirius said gently. "Not like that."
The words lingered between them for a moment. Regulus looked away first.
"Well," he muttered. "You lot keep saying ridiculous things."
James bumped his shoulder as casually as if they'd been doing it for years. "Glad we can be of service." Heat crept up Regulus's neck.
Before he could think of a reply, Professor McGonagall's voice echoed through the hall. "Students travelling on the Hogwarts Express, collect your luggage. The carriages are waiting."
The hall erupted into movement. "Finally," Sirius said, grabbing his trunk. "Race you to the front carriage."
"You are much too old to be racing anyone," Remus replied.
"And yet..."
Sirius was already halfway across the hall. James sighs as he watches him bolt. "He'll trip."
"He always trips," Remus agreed.
"Should we stop him?"
"No."
"Mkay."
James reached down, effortlessly lifting his own trunk before glancing at Regulus. "You ready?"
Regulus adjusted his grip on his book and nodded. "Yeah."
James smiled, that same infuriatingly easy smile, and jerked his head towards the doors. "Come on, then."
For reasons Regulus refused to examine too closely, he found himself matching James's pace as they followed Sirius and Remus out towards the waiting carriages, the beginning of summer appearing right infront of him. Regulus had a feeling that a lot of the summer was going to revolve around James.