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Reg: I’m a knife

Icescream date :-)

Regulus’ eyes shoot up from where he’s sat on the sofa, legs curled up to his chest and a book loosely in hand. For a split second, James is frozen in place and lost to the present moment, his mind suddenly void of anything other than Regulus. Regulus, whose body is relaxed, sunken into the cushions, wearing fluffy socks. Regulus, whose hair is curly, cheeks flushed with comfort, and hands fully enveloped by an oversized sweater. James’ sweater.

“Maybe.” Regulus smiles devilishly, only half-effectively pulling James out of his own thoughts. Regulus’ eyes brighten with the mischief of being caught as he waits for James’ response. “Do you want it back?”

“I-“ James gapes, for some reason, unable to form any words or coherent thoughts at the moment. “No. No, you keep it.” He nods his head repeatedly. “It looks better on you anyways.”

The receptionist at the front desk told him how to find the reception classrooms from inside the school with a soft, sympathetic smile, and he babbled out a thank you before hurrying down carpeted corridors in search of his son; and by the time he reached the trio of doors he’d been directed to, he could hear music, simple piano and a pair of voices singing softly.

“Five little speckled frogs, sat on a speckled log, eating some most delicious grubs,” the first voice sang, smooth over the melody being picked out, and James heard a voice he immediately recognised as Harry’s shout yum yum! as the nursery rhyme continued. He approached the door he could hear the singing coming from quickly.

“One jumped into the pool, where it was nice and cool,” whoever was looking after his son sang, and James’ fingers closed around the handle to the door, and he pulled it open; only to freeze in the doorway, staring at the scene before him.

“Now there were four green speckled frogs!” Harry declared happily, both hands thrust into the air; and from where he was sitting on the piano bench beside him, Regulus Black grinned down at James’ four year old, before he pulled a funny face and replied solemnly with glug, glug.

Harry burst immediately into giggles, and fell against Regulus; and James watched him pull his hands back from the piano to instead wrap his arms around Harry, and pet through his hair gently.

“Very good, Harry,” he praised him softly, smiling down at him with warm, happy grey eyes; and James felt like he was losing his mind, wondered whether he’d stacked it coming out of his car after all, and was hallucinating or dead.

“Haz?” He called, through a voice clogged with more emotion than he could put words to; and the pair sat on the bench looked up at the same time, Harry’s face breaking into a grin while Regulus’ smoothed over into cool indifference, all the soft happiness from the moment before disappearing behind cool grey eyes.

Reg: I'd die for you

James: but would you live for me?

Reg: yes.

James: promise?

Reg: je promets

*regulus in the inferi cave*

1. it's not called a "retweet", it's called a "reblog", but if you're REALLY cool, you refer to it as a "rebagel"

2. if someone has fewer followers than you, it is totally fair to call them "irrelevant", but it is actually more stinging to call them "irrelephant"

3. if you see someone irl that you think might have a tumblr, you're supposed to say "i like your shoe laces". the correct response, which any true tumblrite would know by heart, is "thanks, i stole them from the president"

4. there is a particular phenomenon that happens after 12am EST called "nightblogging", and everything after this point is the fault of the australians