StarCrushed

“Still not dead though,” Fabian pointed out cheerfully.

“Tragic,” Gideon agreed.

A beat of silence fell again.

Pandora was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling like she might find something interesting in the cracks. Evan was stretched beside her, one arm flung lazily across his face. Regulus sat cross-legged, spine straight, expression neutral, fingers idly tracing patterns into the worn wooden floor.

Frank yawned. Alice elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

“This is unbearable,” James declared suddenly. “We need entertainment.”

“Do a dance,” Mary suggested.

“I will not—”

“Do a dance,” Sirius echoed, immediately switching sides.

James pointed at him. “Traitor.”

“Always.”

“No,” Remus cut in, calm but firm. “We’re not encouraging James.”

“Rude,” James said.

“Accurate,” Lily replied.

Another pause. Longer this time. Heavier.

Then Peter, surprisingly, spoke up. “We could… I don’t know. Talk?”

Everyone looked at him.

Peter shifted slightly under the attention. “Like—stories? Childhood stuff?”

Marlene perked up. “Oh. That could actually be fun.”

Dorcas sat up a little. “Depends how embarrassing we’re willing to get.”

“Very,” Barty said instantly.

“Deeply,” Evan added.

Pandora tilted her head. “I have at least six stories that would ruin all of your reputations.”

“That’s promising,” Fabian said.

“Alright,” James clapped once. “Stories. We go around. No lying, no chickening out.”

“No murder confessions,” Remus added.

Barty looked personally offended.

“Fine,” James amended. “No serious murder confessions.”

“Define serious,” Barty said.

“Barty—”

“I’m kidding,” he said, grinning.

“Mostly,” Evan murmured.

“Right,” Lily said, cutting through before it could spiral. “I’ll start, since you’re all incapable of organisation.”

“Leader,” Sirius said.

“Obviously,” she shot back.

She shifted slightly, tucking her legs beneath her, expression softening in a way that made the circle quiet almost instinctively.

“My family’s Catholic,” she began.

That got a few reactions—small nods, a couple raised brows.

“Properly Catholic,” she continued. “Mass every Sunday, holidays taken very seriously, the whole thing.”

“Confession?” Mary asked.

“Yeah.”

“Did you lie?”

“Constantly.”

Mary grinned. “Same.”

Lily smiled faintly, then continued, “When I was about eight, we went on this trip—some countryside place, old church, loads of walking paths. I got separated.”

“Of course you did,” Sirius muttered.

“I was eight,” Lily said sharply.

“Fair,” he conceded.

“I wandered off too far,” she went on, “and I ended up near this cliff edge. Didn’t realise how close I was until the ground started… crumbling, I guess.”

A few people leaned in slightly.

“I slipped,” she said simply. “Properly. I should’ve fallen.”

James’s expression shifted, something sharper underneath the humour.

“But I didn’t,” Lily said. “Something—someone—grabbed me. Pulled me back.”

“Like—physically?” Alice asked.

Lily nodded slowly. “Yeah. I remember hands. And light. And this voice telling me to be more careful.”

“Bloody hell,” Fabian breathed.

“When I turned around,” Lily said, “there was no one there.”

Silence settled, heavier this time.

“My mum always said it was an angel,” Lily finished with a small shrug. “And honestly? I don’t have a better explanation.”

There was a pause.

“That’s… actually quite nice,” Remus said quietly.

“Yeah,” Mary agreed. “That’s—sweet, in a terrifying near-death way.”

“Very on-brand for you,” James added, softer now.

Lily rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile there.

Across the circle, Regulus had gone still.

It was subtle, the way his head tilted, the way his gaze sharpened slightly.

“Catholic,” he echoed.

Lily glanced over. “Yeah?”

“My family is too,” he said.

Sirius, immediately, went rigid.

It was almost imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know him—but Regulus saw it. Of course he did.

“Oh,” Lily said. “Right. That makes sense, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Regulus said lightly, though there was something else threading through his tone now. “You said you were… touched by an angel?”

There was a beat.

“Yes,” Lily said slowly.

Regulus nodded once.

Then, with the same casual tone one might use to comment on the weather, he said:

“Oh. I was touched by a priest.”

The room—

Exploded.

“WHAT—”

“WHAT—”

“EXCUSE ME—?!”

“REGULUS—?!”

Mary physically fell sideways, clutching her stomach as she shrieked. Fabian choked so violently Gideon had to thump him on the back. James made a noise that could only be described as a bark of disbelief.

“YOU CAN’T JUST—” Marlene wheezed, pointing at him.

“YOU CANNOT DROP THAT INTO A CONVERSATION LIKE THAT—” Dorcas added, half-laughing, half-horrified.

Barty had folded in on himself, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. Evan was outright on the floor, kicking his feet like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

Pandora was clapping. Actually clapping.

“OH MY GOD,” Peter was saying, over and over.

Lily had both hands over her mouth, eyes wide. “Regulus—oh my God—”

Remus looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or intervene, which was somehow worse.

And Sirius—

Sirius had gone completely, utterly still.

“Regulus,” he said, sharply.

But Regulus just shrugged, expression almost bored now, like he’d commented on the time.

“It’s fine,” he said. “We changed churches.”

That—

That made it worse.

“WE CHANGED CHURCHES—?!” James repeated, incredulous.

“OH, WELL, THAT’S ALRIGHT THEN—” Mary gasped.

“PROBLEM SOLVED—” Fabian wheezed.

“I’M LOSING MY MIND—” Gideon declared.

“REGULUS—” Lily started again, somewhere between concern and absolute disbelief.

“It was years ago,” Regulus said, still maddeningly calm.

“THAT IS NOT—” Dorcas began, then stopped, laughing again despite herself.

Barty wiped tears from his eyes. “That’s—oh my God—that’s the worst possible timing for that statement.”

Evan sat up, grinning like a man possessed. “You heard ‘angel’ and thought, my time has come.”

“I contributed,” Regulus said.

“YOU CONTRIBUTED—?!” Marlene shrieked.

“That’s not contributing, that’s—weaponised conversation,” Pandora said delightedly.

“Reg—” Sirius said again, quieter this time, something tight under his voice.

Regulus glanced at him.

For a split second, something flickered—something real, something that didn’t match the easy detachment.

Then it was gone.

“I’m fine,” he said, flat.

Sirius held his gaze for a moment longer.

Then, slowly, he exhaled.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

The room, meanwhile, had not recovered.

“I cannot believe this is happening,” Alice was saying, half-laughing into her hands.

“This is the worst detention I’ve ever had,” Frank added.

“The best detention,” Fabian corrected.

“Speak for yourself,” Remus muttered.

“NO, BECAUSE WHAT DO WE EVEN SAY AFTER THAT—” Mary demanded.

“Nothing,” Evan said, still grinning. “You say nothing. You sit with it.”

“I refuse,” James said. “We’re moving on. Next story. Immediately. Before this gets worse.”

“It’s already the worst,” Peter said.

“It can always get worse,” Barty said cheerfully.

“Don’t encourage him,” Remus warned.

Pandora rolled onto her side, propping her head up on her hand. “I have a story about accidentally setting a shed on fire.”

“YES,” Marlene said instantly.

“Thank God,” Lily added, exhaling.

“Please,” James said. “Something normal.”

Pandora smiled, bright and slightly unhinged.

“It was not normal.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Sirius muttered.

Across the circle, Regulus leaned back slightly, resting his weight against the desk behind him.

The chaos surged back into motion—voices overlapping, laughter breaking through the lingering shock, the moment dissolving into noise again.

Sirius glanced at him once more.

Regulus didn’t look back.

But he was smiling.

Just a little.

They did not move on.

They could not move on.

Pandora had opened her mouth—fully ready to launch into her shed-fire story—when Mary grabbed her arm mid-sentence.

“No—no, no, no,” Mary said, shaking her head violently. “Absolutely not. We are not skipping past that.”

“Seconded,” Marlene said immediately, pointing at Regulus like he’d personally offended her. “You don’t get to drop something like that and then sit there like you’ve just commented on the weather.”

“Thirded,” Fabian added.

“Fourthed,” Gideon said.

“Everyone-th’d,” Barty finished, still grinning like this was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I really think we should—”

“No,” Lily said.

It was sharp. Immediate.

Everyone looked at her.

She was still pale, still visibly shaken, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap like she was holding herself in place.

“No,” she repeated, quieter but firmer. “He doesn’t get to just—say that—and then we pretend it didn’t happen.”

Across from her, Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?” he said lightly.

“Yes, oh,” James cut in, staring at him. “Regulus—what the hell?”

Peter nodded frantically. “Yeah—what—what do you mean?”

Dorcas leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed—not mocking now, not laughing. “Explain.”

Even Evan, who had been thoroughly enjoying himself moments ago, had gone a little more still, his grin fading at the edges.

Sirius said nothing.

He was watching Regulus.

Only him.

Regulus looked around the circle, taking in the expressions—the shock, the disbelief, the horror still lingering in Lily’s face.

And then—

He shrugged.

It was careless. Easy.

Like it didn’t matter.

“Fine,” he said.

A beat.

“I used to go to the church youth group,” he began, tone almost conversational. “Choir, volunteering, all of that. My parents liked it.”

“That tracks,” James muttered.

Regulus ignored him.

“One day,” he continued, “the priest asked me to stay behind. Said he needed help cleaning.”

Mary’s jaw tightened.

“I said yes,” Regulus went on. “Because I was—” he gestured vaguely, lips twitching, “—apparently very helpful. And very well-behaved.”

“Reg,” Sirius said quietly.

Regulus didn’t look at him.

“He gave me wine,” he said.

That—

That made the room go still again.

“Wine?” Peter repeated weakly.

“Communion wine,” Regulus said. “It wasn’t unusual. Or at least—I didn’t think it was.”

Lily shook her head slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not—no, that’s not—”

Regulus continued like she hadn’t spoken.

“He started talking,” he said. “About sin. About confession. About temptation.”

Barty had stopped smiling.

“And then he decided,” Regulus added, almost lazily, “that I was an incubus.”

There was a collective noise—half gasp, half what the hell—that rippled through the circle.

“He called me that,” Regulus said. “Repeatedly. His ‘little incubus.’”

“Jesus Christ,” Fabian breathed.

Gideon dragged a hand down his face. “Oh my—”

Regulus tilted his head slightly, almost amused by the reactions.

“He made it into a… game,” he said. “A confessional thing. Said I had to—” he waved a hand, vague but pointed, “—do certain things to be forgiven.”

“Regulus,” Remus said, low and urgent.

But Regulus kept going.

“It went on for a while,” he said. “A few months, maybe.”

“Months—?!” Mary choked.

“You didn’t tell anyone?” Alice asked, horrified.

Regulus blinked at her like the question was odd.

“No,” he said simply. “Why would I?”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Thick.

“Because it was wrong,” Lily said, voice shaking now.

Regulus’s gaze flicked to her.

“I didn’t know that,” he said.

And that—

That landed.

Hard.

“I was a child,” he added, matter-of-fact. “He said it was part of… spiritual guidance.”

“Spiritual—” Marlene made a strangled noise. “I’m going to be sick.”

Frank looked like he was about to stand up and go find someone to punch.

“So how did it stop?” James asked, quieter now.

Regulus shrugged again.

“Church camp,” he said. “He tried it again. My parents found out.”

“And?” Dorcas pressed.

“And they went completely insane,” Regulus said, lips curving slightly. “Nearly killed him, from what I remember.”

“That’s—good,” Fabian said, a bit too quickly.

“They pulled me out of everything,” Regulus went on. “New church. No more youth groups. No being alone with adults.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened.

Regulus leaned back on his hands, looking around at them all.

And then—

He laughed.

Not loudly. Not hysterically.

Just—

Amused.

“You should’ve seen your faces,” he said.

“Regulus,” Lily whispered.

She looked like she might cry.

Her hands were still clasped tightly, knuckles white, lips moving faintly under her breath.

“…Hail Mary, full of grace…”

Mary glanced at her, startled. “Lily—”

“I just—” Lily swallowed. “I can’t—I’ve never—our priest is—he’s kind, he’s—”

“I’m sure he is,” Regulus said lightly.

“That’s not—this isn’t—” she shook her head, like she could physically reject the idea. “That’s not what it’s supposed to be.”

“No,” Remus said softly. “It isn’t.”

“Regulus Black—” Marlene suddenly snapped, pointing at him again, eyes wide. “Why are you so calm about this?”

“Because it’s over?” he said, like that answered everything.

“That is not how that works—”

“It is for me,” he replied.

“YOU WERE A CHILD—” Mary shouted.

“I’m aware.”

“THAT’S NOT—” she cut herself off, hands flying up in frustration. “You’re insufferable.”

Regulus smiled faintly.

Barty let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re actually insane.”

“Thank you,” Regulus said.

“Not a compliment.”

“Still appreciated.”

“Reg,” Sirius said again.

This time, Regulus looked at him.

Really looked.

There was something there—brief, flickering, unreadable.

Then Regulus’s expression shifted.

Smoothed.

Turned sharp again.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he said lightly.

Sirius didn’t respond.

He just held his gaze.

Across the circle, Dorcas muttered, “I’m going to murder a man I’ve never met.”

“Get in line,” Frank said darkly.

“Please do,” Alice added.

“Group activity,” Gideon said.

“Bonding exercise,” Fabian agreed.

Lily was still whispering under her breath.

Regulus tilted his head, watching her for a moment.

Then—

Slowly—

He brought his hands together in mock prayer.

His voice softened, lilting, almost teasing.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he cooed, eyes half-lidded. “Forgive me, Father, have I sinned?”

“REGULUS—!” Lily gasped.

“Too far,” Remus said sharply.

Mary threw a crumpled bit of parchment at him. “You are unbelievable.”

Regulus only smiled wider.

Evan dragged a hand down his face. “You’re actually the worst person I know.”

“High praise,” Regulus said.

Barty let out another half-hysterical laugh. “I cannot believe this is real.”

“It’s not funny,” Sirius said.

That—

Cut through everything.

The noise died, just slightly.

Regulus glanced at him again.

Sirius’s expression was tight. Controlled. Something simmering just beneath the surface.

Regulus held his gaze for a moment.

Then, quietly—

“Relax,” he said.

Sirius didn’t.

But he didn’t push either.

The room slowly filled with noise again—quieter this time, uneven, people still processing, still circling back to it in their own ways.

Marlene shook her head. “I’m never telling a childhood story again.”

“Agreed,” Mary said.

“Pandora,” James said weakly, “your shed story. Please. Save us.”

Pandora blinked, then smiled faintly.

“It involves fire,” she said.

“Good,” Fabian muttered. “Fire is simple.”

“Fire is safe,” Gideon agreed.

“Fire does not emotionally devastate me,” Peter added.

“Excellent,” Pandora said.

Regulus leaned back again, expression settling into something easy, something untouched.

Like none of it had mattered.

Like it had never been anything at all.

Across the circle, Sirius watched him.

James was off doing something irritatingly productive, which Sirius had immediately stopped listening to the second he realised it didn’t involve breaking rules. Peter had vanished somewhere with a suspiciously guilty face, which meant food, trouble, or food-based trouble. Remus had refused to come out because he was “revising,” the betrayal dressed in tweed and moral superiority. Lily was studying too, because apparently the plague had spread. Mary had laughed in Sirius’s face when he demanded entertainment. Marlene had detention. Fabian and Gideon were probably inventing a new crime. Alice and Frank were on a date, which was sweet in a way that made Sirius want to throw himself into the lake.

So now he was alone.

Alone.

Entirely alone.

A tragedy.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor, spread his arms, and whispered to the empty air, “Is this what neglect feels like?”

The castle, cruel and ancient, declined to comment.

Sirius sighed so hard it probably counted as a weather event and kept walking.

His boots scuffed against the floor. His tie hung loose around his neck. His shirt was half-untucked because he had long ago decided that neatness was a sign of spiritual defeat. He passed one empty classroom, then another, peering in with the vague hope that something entertaining might have accidentally caught fire.

Nothing.

Not even a cursed desk.

“Cowards,” he told the furniture.

Then he heard it.

Soft at first.

So soft he almost missed it beneath the groan of old pipes and the distant murmur of afternoon castle life. A thread of sound, delicate as a secret being pulled through a keyhole.

A guitar.

Sirius stopped dead.

His head turned slowly.

There it was again.

A gentle, careful strum.

Not loud. Not confident in a showy way. It didn’t swagger. It didn’t demand applause. It just slipped through the corridor like it didn’t think it deserved to be heard.

Sirius’s brows lifted.

“Well,” he murmured, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “hello, mystery.”

He followed it.

Of course he did.

Sirius Black had many flaws, most of them loud, expensive, and easily punishable by detention, but ignoring something interesting had never been one of them.

The music led him down a quieter stretch of corridor, away from the usual stampede of students, past a row of narrow windows where pale light spilled across the floor in dusty gold bars. The guitar grew clearer with every step. A few notes slipped wrong, then corrected themselves quickly, almost shyly. A pause. A soft breath. Another strum.

Sirius slowed.

The sound was coming from an empty classroom near the end of the hall.

The door had been left slightly open.

Naturally, Sirius did not knock.

Knocking was for people who respected boundaries, and Sirius had been born in the House of Black, where boundaries were either decorative or weaponised.

He leaned toward the gap, expecting perhaps some lovesick seventh year trying to seduce the air, or an embarrassed Ravenclaw with tragic poetry habits.

Instead, he saw Regulus.

And Sirius froze.

Not dramatically this time.

Actually froze.

Regulus Black sat alone on top of one of the desks near the centre of the classroom, one knee drawn up, the other leg dangling, a guitar balanced across his lap like it belonged there.

Which was already absurd.

Regulus did not look like someone who played guitar. Regulus looked like someone who judged people who played guitar. Regulus looked like someone who would call it common, then secretly know every chord just to be better than everyone else.

But there he was.

Alone.

Oblivious.

Curly hair loose and messy around his face, not styled, not polished, not pinned into that sharp little pure-blood prince shape he wore in public like armour. His cheeks were a little pink. His mouth was soft with concentration. He wore a baggy hoodie that swallowed him whole, sleeves slipping over his hands.

Sirius’s eyes narrowed.

His hoodie.

That was absolutely his hoodie.

The dark one. The comfortable one. The one Sirius had thought had vanished into the cursed void under his bed, along with three socks, a silver ring, and possibly Peter’s dignity.

Regulus had stolen it.

Regulus Black, tiny menace, precious thief, had stolen his hoodie and was wearing it in an empty classroom with shorts and fuzzy socks and trainers like some sort of unfairly adorable little gremlin.

Sirius’s entire brain hit a wall.

“Oh,” he whispered under his breath.

Regulus didn’t hear.

He bent over the guitar, fingers moving with careful, practised ease. And that was the second shock.

He was good.

Not passable. Not clumsy. Not rich-boy-learned-for-three-weeks-and-got-bored good.

Good.

His fingers knew where to go. His thumb brushed the strings gently, coaxing sound out instead of forcing it. The notes came warm and low, pooling in the quiet classroom, filling all the dusty corners Sirius had never thought to notice before.

Sirius stared.

“When the hell did you learn that?” he breathed.

Regulus still didn’t look up.

He sniffed once, quick and irritated, like he was angry at his own face for betraying him. Then he swallowed, stared down at the guitar, and began to sing.

Sirius’s smirk vanished.

Regulus’s voice was soft.

Hushed.

Not stage-bright or polished. Not meant to impress. It was quieter than that. Rawer. Like he wasn’t singing for anyone, not even himself, only letting the words out because keeping them in had become too heavy.

“You weren’t the right person at the wrong time,” Regulus sang, voice barely above the guitar. “You just didn’t like me that much…”

Sirius felt something in his chest fold in on itself.

He didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

Regulus kept playing, eyes lowered, lashes shadowing his cheeks.

“You weren’t some evil mastermind,” he murmured into the tune. “You didn’t try to hurt me on purpose.”

His mouth twisted after the line, small and bitter, like he hated how gentle it sounded.

Sirius’s fingers curled against the doorframe.

Who?

The question arrived in him sharp and immediate.

Who had made Regulus sound like that?

Who had been close enough to be sung about alone in an empty classroom?

Who had taken his little brother’s heart, or attention, or hope, or whatever fragile private thing Regulus kept locked under all that cold little arrogance, and handled it carelessly enough that Regulus was sitting here in stolen clothes, sniffing over a guitar?

Sirius did not like the heat that moved through him.

It was protective first.

Then possessive.

Then something darker and uglier beneath that, something with claws.

Regulus strummed again, softer.

“But I thought that you wanted to attempt and ruin my life,” he sang, his voice catching around the shape of the words, annoyed with itself. “But then I realized…”

He stopped for half a breath.

Sirius watched his throat move as he swallowed.

“You just didn’t like me that much…” Regulus whispered. “And it wasn’t deliberate.”

Sirius pressed his lips together.

He wanted to burst into the room.

He wanted to demand a name.

He wanted to find whoever it was and hang them by their ankle from the Astronomy Tower until they apologised to Regulus properly. Not one of those weak little apologies people gave when they wanted forgiveness without consequence. A real one. Bleeding pride. Begging. Something satisfying.

But Regulus looked so unaware.

So unguarded.

So unlike the razor-edged boy Sirius usually saw cutting through the halls with his chin lifted and his mouth full of poison.

And Sirius knew, with rare and devastating clarity, that if Regulus noticed him now, he would stop. He would close up. He would put his teeth back in. He would become untouchable again.

So Sirius stayed where he was.

Silent.

Barely breathing.

Regulus dragged his sleeve under his nose, huffed a tiny humourless laugh at himself, and kept playing.

“There was no big plan or some grand scheme,” he sang, quieter now, like he was confessing something humiliating to the empty room. “I wasn’t a target.”

His fingers slipped on one chord.

He cursed under his breath.

“Fuck.”

Sirius almost smiled despite himself.

Regulus glared at the guitar like it had personally betrayed him, adjusted his hand, and began the phrase again.

“There was no big plan or some grand scheme. I wasn’t a target.” His voice thinned slightly, then steadied. “It would’ve been someone else if it wasn’t me.”

He laughed again, smaller this time.

“But I am an idiot.”

Sirius’s expression changed so fast it would have frightened anyone who knew him well.

“No, you’re not,” he whispered, the words barely sound at all.

Regulus couldn’t hear him.

Regulus had never been an idiot. Proud, yes. Sharp-tongued, certainly. Dramatic in a quieter, more lethal way than Sirius, absolutely. But not an idiot.

Never that.

Regulus bowed his head, curls falling forward, and sang, “So it’s not your fault that I fell in love with someone who just didn’t like me that much…”

The word love landed like a thrown knife.

Sirius’s breath stopped.

Fell in love.

His hand tightened on the edge of the door.

Something inside him gave a very slow, very dangerous turn.

Regulus had fallen in love with someone.

Someone who had not loved him back.

Someone who had not liked him that much.

Sirius stared at him, at the stolen hoodie slipping off one shoulder, at the fuzzy socks, at the careful fingers, at the solemn little crease between his brows.

How could someone not like him that much?

How could anyone look at Regulus and not want to keep him safe from the entire world?

How could anyone be offered even a piece of him and treat it like nothing?

Sirius’s jaw clenched.

“Idiot,” he breathed, but not at Regulus this time.

At whoever had been stupid enough not to adore him properly.

Regulus hummed a little between lines, finding the next note.

“People say that opposites attract,” he sang, voice softening into something almost thoughtful. “And that the opposite of love’s indifference.”

He looked toward the window, though there was nothing to see but pale sky and dust on the glass.

“And I guess that when I look at us like that,” he continued, “it kind of makes total, perfect sense…”

He hesitated, mouth pulling tight.

“Why you just didn’t like me that much…”

The guitar filled the silence after that.

Sirius hated the silence.

He hated the way Regulus sat inside it like he belonged there.

He hated that he had not known Regulus could play. Had not known he could sing. Had not known about the hoodie, the classroom, the song, the someone. The fact of it pressed under his ribs.

Regulus had secrets.

Of course he did.

They all did.

But Sirius had always hated Regulus’s secrets most because he felt, somewhere deep and furious and unreasonable, that Regulus should not have to hide anything from him.

Regulus should be where Sirius could see him.

Regulus should be safe.

Regulus should be loved so loudly he never had to write soft songs alone just to convince himself it wasn’t his fault.

Regulus rubbed at his cheek with the heel of his palm, then made a face at the wetness there.

“Pathetic,” he muttered.

Sirius’s eyes softened so violently it hurt.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

Regulus sniffed, lifted his chin with forced dignity despite there being nobody in the room to witness it, and played on.

“You weren’t the one that got away,” he sang, almost scolding himself now. “You just didn’t like me that much…”

His fingers moved a little firmer.

“You weren’t my soulmate.”

The word soulmate came out flat, like he was trying to kill it before it could hurt him.

Sirius tilted his head against the doorframe, watching him with a strange ache blooming behind his ribs.

Regulus was still so young when he let himself be young.

Not in public. Never there. In public, he was all lineage and ice and polished cruelty. A little prince sharpened by a house full of ghosts. But here, alone, hidden in a classroom, he looked like someone’s baby brother.

Sirius’s baby brother.

His.

Regulus strummed harder, anger flashing briefly across his face.

“And I thought that that must make you my nemesis,” he sang, eyes narrowing at nothing. “Deemed you diabolical.”

Sirius’s mouth twitched.

That, unfortunately, sounded very Regulus.

“Vicious, malicious and villainous intentions,” Regulus continued, with enough melodrama in the phrasing that Sirius nearly made a noise.

Nearly.

He clapped a hand over his own mouth just in time.

Regulus didn’t notice.

He shook his head at himself, hair shifting messily across his forehead, and his voice dropped again.

“And then I realized that you just didn’t like me that much…”

Sirius exhaled slowly through his nose.

Not grief.

Not quite.

Not only.

There was something almost funny about it too, in the cruel way teenage heartbreak was funny when held at arm’s length. Regulus, dramatic little horror, deciding someone was his nemesis because they didn’t fancy him enough. Regulus building a whole villain arc out of being strung along, then sitting alone and begrudgingly admitting it had not been a grand conspiracy.

But Sirius could not laugh.

Not when Regulus looked like that.

Not when his voice trembled around the edges.

Not when Sirius was beginning to understand the shape of the wound.

Regulus did not want revenge, not really.

He wanted to have mattered.

That was the part that made Sirius want to bare his teeth.

Because Regulus mattered.

Regulus mattered in the bones of the castle and the blood of Sirius’s hands and the marrow of every memory he had tried and failed to outgrow.

Regulus was the little boy who had once followed Sirius down hallways in Grimmauld Place with silent feet and huge eyes, pretending he wasn’t following at all. Regulus was the child who stole Sirius’s sweets and then looked offended when accused. Regulus was the brother who knew exactly how to get under Sirius’s skin because he had helped build the place there. Regulus was a brat, a menace, a snob, a beautiful little disaster wrapped in cold silk and sharper words.

Regulus was Regulus.

How had someone had him close enough to hurt and not understood?

Regulus took a breath and began the refrain again, more certain now, as if repeating it made it true enough to survive.

“People say that opposites attract,” he sang. “And that the opposite of love’s indifference.”

His gaze dropped back to the strings.

“And I guess that when I look at us like that…”

A tiny pause.

“It kind of makes total, perfect sense.”

His mouth curled down.

“Why you just didn’t like me that much…”

Sirius’s eyes narrowed.

Fine.

So someone hadn’t.

Someone had failed.

Someone had been handed a miracle and treated it like a passing curiosity.

Sirius, however, was no such fool.

The thought arrived first as warmth.

Then as shape.

Then as a plan.

Not a loud plan. Not the sort James would draw on parchment with arrows and explosions and seven separate contingency routes that all ended in detention. Something quieter. Something that would slip under Regulus’s defences before he noticed it was there.

Regulus wanted to be adored?

Fine.

Sirius could do that.

Better than anyone.

He knew Regulus. Knew the little things. Knew he pretended not to like sweets but stole them anyway. Knew he preferred dark ink and expensive parchment because he liked the way it made his handwriting look. Knew he got cold easily and would rather die than admit it. Knew he held grudges like jewellery. Knew he liked being praised when it was phrased like an insult. Knew he watched everything, heard everything, remembered everything.

A note, maybe.

Not signed.

Something tucked into a book.

A gift where he would find it.

Something small at first. Something clever. Something only someone paying attention would choose.

A secret admirer.

The phrase sparked in Sirius’s head, ridiculous and perfect.

A secret admirer.

Regulus would pretend to hate it.

He would not hate it.

He would scoff, sneer, call it childish, maybe threaten the entire Slytherin common room into silence while secretly keeping every note pressed between pages somewhere no one else could touch.

Sirius felt a grin begin to form.

Slow.

Sharp.

Delighted.

There would be no risk that way.

No risk of someone else getting close and fumbling the whole thing like an idiot. No risk of Regulus being hurt by some careless fool who liked the shine of him but not the weight. No risk of watching someone else stand too close, smile too sweetly, touch what Sirius had known first.

No.

Sirius would do it properly.

He would spoil him rotten.

He would love him in secret so carefully Regulus would not know where to put all of it.

Because no one else could love Regulus more.

No one else had earned the right to even try.

Regulus’s voice pulled him back.

“And I don’t blame you…” he sang, the words softer, tired around the edges. “I know you didn’t mean to…”

He pressed his thumb against the strings, muting them for half a second, then played on.

“Make me a casualty of your curiosity.”

Sirius’s grin faded.

His eyes went cold.

Curiosity.

That word was worse than the others.

Someone had been curious about Regulus.

Tried him on.

Tested him.

Taken the attention, the flattery, the sharp little thrill of being wanted by him, then backed away when it became real.

Sirius’s hand flexed.

“Oh, I blame you,” he mouthed silently.

Regulus, unaware of the silent murder being composed in the doorway, kept singing.

“And I don’t hate you,” he whispered. “’Cause I know you didn’t mean to.”

His face twisted.

“I know you didn’t mean to.”

Another breath.

Smaller.

“I hope you didn’t mean to…”

The guitar trembled under his fingers for a moment.

Sirius nearly stepped forward.

Nearly said his name.

Nearly crossed the room, climbed onto the desk beside him, tugged him into the stolen hoodie properly, and told him he was a spoiled little idiot if he thought he could sit alone making himself smaller over someone else’s lack of taste.

But that would ruin it.

Regulus would look up.

Regulus would see too much.

Regulus would snarl and wipe his face and pretend his voice had never shaken.

So Sirius stayed hidden.

Waiting.

Listening.

Regulus drew in a slow breath, set his jaw, and returned to the refrain one last time.

“People say that opposites attract,” he sang, and now there was something steadier in him, not happiness, not yet, but a stubborn little spine of survival. “And that the opposite of love’s indifference.”

His fingers found every chord perfectly now.

“And I guess that when I look at us like that…”

He looked down at the guitar.

“It kind of makes total, perfect sense.”

The last line came almost like a sigh.

“Why you just didn’t like me that much…”

The final chord rang out into the classroom and slowly faded.

Regulus sat still after it.

So did Sirius.

For a long few seconds, neither of them moved.

The castle seemed to hold its breath around them.

Then Regulus sniffed sharply, as if remembering he had standards, and muttered, “Well. That was revolting.”

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek so hard he almost drew blood.

Regulus glared down at the guitar.

“You are never allowed to do that again,” he told it.

The guitar, being a guitar, accepted the criticism with grace.

Regulus huffed, wiped at his face one more time, then seemed to notice the sleeve hanging over his hand. He pulled it closer around himself, sinking deeper into Sirius’s stolen hoodie.

Sirius’s expression went strange.

Soft, first.

Then impossibly pleased.

Then hungry with possession in a way he did not examine because examining things was Remus’s hobby, and Sirius preferred action.

Regulus had stolen his hoodie.

Regulus was wearing his hoodie while singing about someone who had failed to like him enough.

The universe, Sirius decided, had handed him a sign wrapped in cotton and emotional incompetence.

He knew what to do now.

He stepped back from the door slowly.

Not enough to make the floor creak. Not enough to disturb the dust. Not enough for Regulus to look up and catch him watching.

His grin returned.

Bigger this time.

Brighter.

Trouble coming alive.

Regulus plucked one idle string inside the room, then sighed.

Sirius turned away.

By the time he reached the end of the corridor, the plan had already begun building itself inside his skull like a beautiful disaster.

First note tonight.

Something simple. Something elegant. Something that would make Regulus frown for at least ten minutes.

No, not too sweet.

Regulus would distrust sweet.

Sharp, then.

Admiring, but sharp.

Maybe: You look better in stolen things.

Sirius almost laughed aloud.

Perfect.

He would leave it somewhere Regulus would find it. In a book. On his desk. Folded into the pocket of that stolen hoodie if he could get close enough, though getting close enough would require theft, stealth, and possibly Barty Crouch Jr. not being awake, which was always a gamble.

Then gifts.

Small ones.

Chocolate he pretended not to like. Better quills. A charm for his guitar case, if he had one. Gloves when the weather turned ugly. A ring, maybe, eventually. Something silver. Something that looked like it had always belonged on his hand.

Sirius’s pulse kicked up.

Regulus would obsess.

Of course he would.

He would hunt the mystery down like a bloodhound in silk socks. He would snap at people. He would overthink every word. He would keep the gifts anyway.

And Sirius would watch.

He would watch Regulus become spoiled by attention he could not reject because he would not know where it came from.

He would watch him learn what it felt like to be wanted properly.

Safely.

By someone who already knew exactly what he was.

Someone who would never get bored of him.

Someone who would never make him a casualty of curiosity.

Sirius reached the staircase, one hand sliding along the banister, grin still curved on his mouth.

Regulus would never have to sing that song again.

Not if Sirius had anything to do with it.

He looked back once toward the corridor where the music had come from, eyes glittering with the beginning of a secret.

“Don’t worry, Reggie,” he murmured.

The nickname softened in his mouth.

Then sharpened.

“I’ve got you.”

And because Sirius Black had never once known how to love anything without making it dangerous, he smiled like a boy with a match in one hand and a kingdom of dry wood before him.

Regulus was his.

He had always been his.

“Sirius,” Euphemia said, without even looking at him.

“Sorry, Mrs Potter.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Not even a bit.”

James snorted, and Euphemia gave up on his collar only to cup his face in both hands and kiss his forehead.

“Mum,” James groaned, bright red.

“Oh, suffer,” she said fondly. “I suffered twenty hours bringing you into the world. You can survive maternal affection.”

Sirius leaned closer. “Twenty hours? Prongs, you were dramatic from birth.”

“I had places to be.”

“You had nowhere to be. You were a baby.”

“I was punctual in spirit.”

“You were late by twenty hours.”

“Creative entrance.”

Peter Pettigrew appeared through the crowd at that exact moment, dragging his trunk behind him with both hands and looking as though the trunk had personally declared war.

“Help,” he wheezed.

Remus Lupin, already beside him, calmly lifted the front end of the trunk with one hand. “You packed too much.”

“I packed the normal amount.”

“You packed three tins of biscuits, two spare blankets, six jumpers, and what I’m fairly certain is an entire ham.”

Peter looked offended. “It’s not an entire ham.”

James brightened. “There’s ham?”

“It’s for emergencies.”

“Peter, my beautiful, brilliant friend,” Sirius said solemnly, pressing one hand to his chest, “every day with you is an emergency.”

Peter smiled despite himself. “That’s what I thought.”

Lily Evans arrived with Mary Macdonald and Marlene McKinnon a few moments later, all three of them cutting through the noise with the effortless coordination of people who had spotted their idiot friends from a distance and prepared themselves emotionally.

Lily’s hair burned copper under the station lights, her expression already balancing fondness and irritation with terrifying skill.

“You lot have been here five minutes,” she said, “and I can hear you from the barrier.”

James spun around so fast he nearly knocked his own trolley over.

“Lily,” he said, like her name had been written in stars. “You look—”

“Careful.”

“Terrifyingly punctual.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“And radiant,” James added quickly. “Radiantly punctual.”

Mary burst out laughing. “Smooth as gravel.”

Marlene shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and looked James up and down. “Potter, your hair’s worse.”

James looked delighted. “You noticed.”

“It’s hard not to. It’s attempting escape.”

“My hair is an independent magical entity.”

“It should be registered as a dangerous creature,” Lily said.

Remus coughed into his hand. “I’d sign the report.”

Peter raised a finger. “I’d testify.”

Sirius placed both hands protectively over James’s head. “None of you understand art.”

“Art usually has structure,” said Alice Fortescue, appearing with Frank Longbottom at her side.

Frank was carrying two bags, one of them clearly Alice’s, and looking pleased about it.

Fabian and Gideon Prewett followed behind them, arguing loudly over which one of them had technically won a bet neither seemed able to explain.

“I said he’d trip before the barrier,” Fabian insisted.

“No, you said he’d trip at the barrier,” Gideon shot back. “He tripped through it. Completely different category.”

Frank blinked. “Are you talking about me?”

“Yes,” said both Prewetts together.

Alice gave them a look. “He didn’t trip. His shoe caught.”

“That’s tripping,” Fabian said.

“That’s physics,” Gideon added.

“That’s marriage,” Sirius said sagely.

Frank frowned. “How is that marriage?”

“No idea. Sounded wise.”

“It didn’t,” said Remus.

“It sounded like something you’d say before falling down stairs,” Lily agreed.

The group folded together the way they always did at the start of term: loud, warm, overlapping, everyone talking over everyone else, summer stories half-told and interrupted by insults, greetings exchanged through shoulder bumps and hugs and casual little gestures of affection. James’s parents stepped back after a while, smiling at the chaos as though they had personally raised half of it.

Euphemia brushed Sirius’s hair from his forehead without asking.

Sirius went still for half a second, then pretended he hadn’t.

“You behave,” she told him softly.

Sirius smiled crookedly. “Never.”

“I know. Try anyway.”

Fleamont clapped him on the shoulder. “Look after each other.”

James puffed up immediately. “Dad, please. We’re seventh years. Responsible adults, practically.”

Lily made a choking noise.

Mary said, “He set his sleeve on fire last June.”

“That was educational,” James said.

Marlene nodded. “We learned he burns quickly.”

Sirius opened his mouth to add something, probably something brilliant and terrible, but then he stopped.

Not gradually.

Not politely.

He froze.

The change ran through him so fast that James noticed immediately. Sirius’s grin dropped out of place. His shoulders stiffened. His eyes locked onto something across the platform, sharp and disbelieving.

James followed his gaze.

Then he froze too.

One by one, the others noticed. Remus first, because Remus always noticed Sirius before anyone else did. Then Lily, whose brows drew together. Then Peter, who turned slowly with a biscuit halfway to his mouth. Mary and Marlene shifted closer, Alice’s hand tightened around Frank’s sleeve, and Fabian and Gideon actually stopped talking.

Across the platform, near one of the quieter gaps in the crowd, stood Walburga and Orion Black.

That alone would have been enough to make the air turn strange.

Walburga Black did not come to King’s Cross.

Orion Black did not carry trunks.

The Black family did not do fond platform farewells beneath ordinary station lights, surrounded by squawking owls and fretting parents and children with chocolate already smeared on their mouths. They sent house-elves. They sent instructions. They sent silence wrapped in expectation.

Sirius knew that better than anyone.

He had never once been walked to the train by his parents.

Not in first year, when he had pretended not to look back.

Not in second year, when he had looked back anyway.

Not in third, fourth, fifth, sixth.

Never.

And yet there they were.

Orion Black was walking with Regulus’s trunk in hand.

Not levitating it ahead of him with cold efficiency. Not commanding someone else to carry it. Actually carrying it, one gloved hand curled firmly around the handle, the other shifting smaller bags up his arm. He moved half a step ahead of his younger son, cutting a clear path through the platform crowd with a look so controlled and dangerous that people moved before they even understood why.

And Walburga—

Walburga was holding Regulus’s arm.

No.

She was walking arm in arm with him.

Close. Gentle. Careful.

Her body was angled toward him as if the entire world existed somewhere dangerous beyond his shoulder. She kept glancing at his face, speaking softly, touching his sleeve, adjusting the fall of his hair with fingers that did not snap or pinch or shove. Her hand rose to brush dark curls away from his forehead, then hovered there, checking, fussing, worrying.

Regulus Black walked between them like something breakable.

The sight did not fit inside Sirius’s head.

Regulus was dressed neatly, because Regulus was always dressed neatly, but there was something changed about him. Something quieter than posture, sharper than exhaustion. His skin looked too pale beneath the station light. He moved carefully, each step measured, not slow exactly but guarded, as if his body had become a corridor full of traps and he had learned where every loose floorboard was.

His eyes flicked toward movement and then away again. He didn’t look at the crowd for long. Didn’t tilt his chin with the usual cool Black arrogance. Didn’t look bored. Didn’t look cruelly amused. Didn’t look untouched.

He looked tired.

He looked like the summer had gone through him with teeth.

Barty Crouch Jr. spotted him from further down the platform before anyone else from Regulus’s circle did and stopped dead so suddenly that Evan Rosier nearly walked into him.

“What?” Evan snapped, then followed his gaze. His expression went flat. “Oh.”

Pandora Rosier, drifting beside them with a ribbon tied around one wrist and her hair pinned messily back, went utterly still.

Dorcas Meadowes said nothing at all.

The four of them moved at once.

Barty’s usual manic grin was nowhere to be found as he pushed through two third years and a woman holding an owl cage.

“Move,” he said, voice light but poisonous.

“Barty,” Evan warned under his breath, but he was moving just as fast, his eyes fixed on Regulus’s face.

Pandora lifted one hand to her mouth, not quite covering it. Dorcas’s jaw tightened so hard it looked painful.

Sirius didn’t see any of that properly.

He only saw Walburga touching Regulus’s hair.

Something hot and ugly tore loose in his chest.

“What the hell is this?” he snapped.

“Sirius,” Remus said quietly.

But Sirius was already moving.

James swore under his breath and followed immediately. The rest of them surged after him in a loose, anxious wave: Peter fumbling with his trolley, Lily hurrying with her eyes narrowed, Mary and Marlene exchanging one tense look before falling into step, Alice pulling Frank along, Fabian and Gideon suddenly sober.

Sirius crossed the platform like a storm given legs.

People moved out of his way.

His boots struck hard against the stone. His hands were curled into fists. His mouth was already open before he reached them, fury building out of confusion because fury was easier, fury was familiar, fury was a language he knew how to speak in his family.

“What are you doing here?” Sirius demanded.

Walburga looked up.

Sirius braced for it.

The sneer. The sharp inhale. The cut of his name like a curse. The public shame. The cold disgust. The way she could make an entire platform feel like a drawing room where he had broken something priceless.

Instead, Walburga’s face changed with relief.

“Sirius,” she said.

Not screamed.

Not spat.

Said.

Sirius stopped so abruptly James almost crashed into his back.

Orion turned too, and for one strange, impossible second, Sirius saw not anger in his father’s face but the same thing: relief. Tight, restrained, controlled because Orion controlled everything, but unmistakable.

“Sirius,” Orion said. “Good.”

“Good?” Sirius repeated, as if the word had personally offended him.

Regulus’s gaze flicked to him.

For a moment, the brothers just stared at each other.

Regulus’s eyes were shadowed. There was something odd about the way he focused, like looking took effort. His face remained composed, but not in the old untouchable way. More like he was holding himself together with both hands and refusing to let anyone see the seams.

Barty reached them then, breathless in a way he’d deny to his grave.

“Reg,” he said.

Regulus turned slightly. “Barty.”

That was all.

Barty’s whole face twisted anyway.

Evan arrived half a step behind him, scanning Regulus with an expression of cold panic he clearly thought passed for indifference.

“Merlin,” Evan muttered.

Pandora slipped past him and reached for Regulus’s free hand. She didn’t grab. She just offered her fingers, and after a beat, Regulus let her take them.

Dorcas came to stand at his other side, quiet as a blade.

“What happened?” Dorcas asked.

Walburga tightened her hold on Regulus’s arm.

Sirius stared at the gesture, then at his mother’s face.

“What is going on?” he said again, louder this time. “You’ve never come here. Either of you. Not once. You didn’t even come when I was eleven.”

Walburga flinched.

Actually flinched.

Sirius’s anger faltered for half a heartbeat, then came roaring back twice as loud because he did not know what to do with that.

“And now you’re here carrying his things and petting him like—like—”

“Sirius,” Orion said sharply.

There it was. A flicker of the old tone.

Sirius almost welcomed it.

But then Orion looked at Regulus, and the sharpness drained into something grim.

“Not here,” Orion said, quieter.

“No,” Sirius snapped. “Here. Right here. Because something is wrong, and everyone is acting like I’m supposed to know what it is.”

Regulus looked away.

That was worse than anything.

Regulus always looked at him. Glared at him. Judged him. Cut him to pieces with those pretty cold eyes. He did not look away like the platform floor had suddenly become easier to face.

James stepped up beside Sirius, his usual brightness gone.

“Regulus?” he said carefully.

Regulus’s mouth twitched faintly, not quite a smile. “Potter.”

“You look…” James stopped, visibly fighting himself and losing. “You look awful.”

“James,” Lily hissed.

“What? He does.”

“Helpful,” Remus murmured.

Regulus gave the smallest breath of laughter, but it didn’t last. It seemed to hurt, or tire him, or both. Walburga’s hand immediately lifted to his back.

“Careful, darling,” she murmured.

Sirius stared at her.

Darling.

The word landed wrong. Not because it was unfamiliar from her mouth, but because it was familiar only in the wrong rooms, under the wrong expectations, polished and cold and weaponised. Not like that. Not soft. Not worried.

Regulus’s lashes lowered. “I’m fine, Mother.”

“No, you are not,” Walburga said, and there was no bite in it. Only pain. “And you will not pretend you are simply because there are people watching.”

Barty’s face had gone very white.

“Who?” he asked.

Nobody answered.

His eyes cut from Walburga to Orion. “Who did it?”

“Barty,” Regulus said quietly.

“No, don’t Barty me.” Barty’s voice cracked, then sharpened to cover it. “Who did it?”

Evan’s hand closed around the strap of his bag until his knuckles whitened.

Pandora stared at Regulus, her fingers still wrapped around his. Her voice came out softer than smoke.

“You didn’t write.”

Regulus swallowed.

“I know.”

“You always write.”

“I know.”

“You promised.”

“I know.”

Dorcas stepped closer, gaze flickering over him. “You were in hospital.”

It wasn’t a question.

Regulus’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

Sirius felt the platform tilt slightly beneath him.

“What?” he said.

Walburga closed her eyes for half a second.

Orion set Regulus’s trunk down carefully, not with irritation, not with impatience. Carefully. Like sudden noise might hurt.

Then he turned fully toward Sirius.

“During the break,” he said, voice low, “Regulus went out alone for the day.”

Sirius’s throat tightened.

Regulus kept looking at the ground.

Mary, who had been standing rigid beside Lily, whispered, “Oh, God.”

“He encountered a Muggle boy,” Walburga said. Her voice was composed in a way that sounded like glass cracking slowly. “The boy asked him for his phone number.”

Sirius blinked, thrown by the ordinary shape of the sentence.

“For his—what?”

“Phone number,” Walburga repeated, as if the words tasted foul. But her disgust did not seem aimed at the thing itself. Not really. It aimed somewhere else. Somewhere vicious.

Regulus’s jaw tightened.

“He refused,” Orion continued. “The boy continued following him.”

Barty made a small, terrible sound under his breath.

“His friends were with him,” Walburga said. “They encouraged it. They filmed it. They mocked him.”

Lily’s face had gone pale with anger.

“They filmed him?” she said.

Walburga nodded once.

Sirius looked at Regulus.

Regulus’s expression did not move.

That, too, was worse.

“He tried to leave,” Orion said. “The boy came up behind him.”

Regulus’s fingers tightened around Pandora’s.

Pandora’s eyes filled instantly with tears, though none fell.

Orion’s voice dropped colder.

“He picked Regulus up from behind and bodyslammed him.”

Silence cracked open.

For one second, there was no train noise. No owls. No chatter. No steam. No station. Only the words, ugly and blunt, sitting in the middle of them.

Sirius felt something inside him go still.

Very still.

“What?” he said.

Nobody answered at first.

Walburga’s hand moved to Regulus’s hair again, but this time it trembled. She smoothed it back from his forehead with a tenderness so raw it made Sirius want to look away and couldn’t.

“When Regulus was on the floor,” she said, “the boy stomped on his head.”

Marlene swore.

Frank inhaled sharply.

Alice’s hand flew to her mouth.

Peter looked sick.

James went rigid beside Sirius, all his restless energy locked suddenly under his skin.

Remus closed his eyes.

Sirius stared at his brother.

Regulus still did not look up.

The world seemed to narrow to the dark fall of his hair, the pallor of his skin, the careful way he stood, the slight tension near his eyes, the way Walburga held him as though she feared he might be taken apart by a hard breeze.

“Stomped,” Sirius repeated.

Orion’s mouth was a hard line. “Yes.”

“On his head.”

“Yes.”

The word ripped out of Sirius before he could stop it.

“Where is he?”

“Sirius,” Remus said.

“No. Where is he?”

“The boy was arrested,” Orion said.

Sirius laughed once, sharp and humourless. “Fantastic. Brilliant. That fixes it, does it?”

Regulus finally looked up.

His eyes met Sirius’s.

“Sirius,” he said quietly.

There was exhaustion in his voice. Not annoyance. Not contempt. Just exhaustion.

And that stopped Sirius better than any command could have.

Walburga drew Regulus closer without seeming to think about it.

“People saw it happen,” she said. “They got him to hospital. The nurses and doctors contacted us.”

Her voice almost broke on the last word. She swallowed it down with the kind of ruthless control Sirius had grown up recognising, except now it seemed turned inward, holding back grief instead of sharpening cruelty.

“We arrived as quickly as we could,” Orion said.

Sirius looked at him then.

His father’s face was carved from stone, but his eyes were not. Not completely.

“He spent the summer recovering there,” Orion said. “He is still recovering.”

The sentence landed with slow horror.

“The whole summer?” Peter whispered.

Regulus’s mouth twisted faintly. “Most of it.”

“Don’t minimise it,” Walburga said at once.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Regulus sighed. “Mother.”

“No.” Her voice softened again instantly, and she touched his cheek. “No, my darling. You are not doing that today.”

Sirius couldn’t breathe properly.

The whole summer.

The summer he had spent not writing home. Not asking. Not checking. Not caring, because caring about Grimmauld Place was a wound he had spent years cauterising badly. The summer he had spent convincing himself Regulus was fine because Regulus was always fine in the way statues were fine: cold, still, untouched.

Except Regulus had been in hospital.

Regulus had been on a floor somewhere while strangers filmed him being hurt.

Regulus had been—

Sirius’s hands shook.

He shoved them into his pockets before anyone could see.

“What injuries?” Lily asked softly.

Her voice had changed. It had gone clinical at the edges, careful and warm all at once, the way she spoke when panic would help nobody.

Walburga looked to Regulus.

Regulus’s lips parted.

Nothing came out.

Orion answered.

“Head trauma,” he said. “Brain injury. Problems with his eyesight. Severe pain. Difficulty with light and noise. Balance issues, at times. Fatigue.”

Barty turned away sharply, one hand dragging through his hair.

Evan said, very quietly, “I’m going to kill him.”

“No,” Dorcas said.

Evan’s eyes snapped to her.

Dorcas didn’t blink. “Not here.”

“That isn’t a no.”

“No,” Regulus said.

Evan looked at him then, fury collapsing into something stricken. “Reg.”

“No,” Regulus repeated, firmer, though the effort seemed to cost him. “You will not do anything.”

Barty laughed under his breath, broken and vicious. “You’re giving orders? Now?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been gone all summer.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t tell us.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You could’ve sent one bloody word!”

“Barty,” Pandora whispered.

“No.” Barty looked wrecked. “No, don’t. He could’ve. He should’ve.”

Regulus shut his eyes briefly.

Walburga’s face tightened. “He was not in a state to manage correspondence.”

Barty looked at her, and for once he seemed too upset to be afraid or rude on purpose.

“He could’ve died,” he said.

Walburga’s mouth trembled.

“Yes,” she said.

The word moved through the group like a blade.

Sirius’s chest felt too small for his ribs.

James reached out and gripped his shoulder.

Sirius didn’t shrug him off.

Fabian, unusually quiet, looked at Regulus and said, “Merlin, mate.”

Gideon swallowed. “That’s… that’s horrible.”

Regulus looked faintly uncomfortable with the sympathy, like someone had handed him a living thing and expected him to know how to hold it.

“I’m alive,” he said.

“Not the bar we’re aiming for,” Marlene snapped.

Regulus blinked at her.

Mary crossed her arms tightly, eyes bright with anger. “She’s right. That’s not okay. None of that is okay.”

Alice stepped forward, gentle but direct. “Does Hogwarts know?”

Orion nodded.

“We have informed the school fully.”

Walburga lifted her chin, and there she was for a moment: Walburga Black, formidable enough to make walls stand straighter.

“I have made certain they are aware,” she said. “Every relevant professor. The Headmaster. Madam Pomfrey. There will be accommodations.”

Regulus looked pained. “Mother.”

“I do not care if it embarrasses you.”

“It does.”

“I know.”

“You told them everything?”

“Yes.”

“Mother.”

“You require support.”

“I require people not staring at me like I’m about to shatter.”

Walburga’s face softened again. “You are not shattering.”

Regulus’s mouth pressed shut.

Orion spoke before he could.

“You will be permitted rest when needed,” he said. “Adjustments for light. Seating. Reduced strain. Assistance if your eyesight worsens. Madam Pomfrey is prepared. Your Head of House is prepared.”

“And,” Walburga added, turning her gaze sharply across the group, “he is not to be jostled, startled, dragged into foolishness, provoked into duels, pushed onto staircases, pulled into crowds, or abandoned if unwell.”

James, Sirius, Peter, and both Prewetts all looked faintly accused.

“That feels targeted,” Gideon muttered.

“It should,” Lily said.

Frank nodded seriously. “Very fair.”

Marlene pointed at Sirius. “Especially you.”

Sirius looked at her like she had slapped him.

Then his gaze slid back to Regulus.

Regulus still stood with his mother holding his arm. Pandora had his hand. Dorcas stood close enough to intercept anyone who came too near. Evan and Barty hovered like weapons waiting to be drawn.

Sirius had seen his brother surrounded by pure-blood polish, by expectation, by sneering friends and old names and cold halls.

He had never seen him surrounded like this.

Protected.

Wanted.

He had never seen their parents like this either.

That was the part that made the anger twist strangely. Sirius wanted to hate them for it. Wanted to spit that they’d discovered tenderness too late and only for the son who stayed. Wanted to demand where this had been when he was eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, every year he had arrived on this platform alone in every way that mattered.

But then Regulus swayed.

Barely.

Just a small shift of weight, a flicker of imbalance so tiny most people might have missed it.

Orion did not miss it.

Walburga did not miss it.

Sirius did not miss it.

Walburga’s arm tightened around him at once.

“Regulus?”

“I’m fine.”

“Do not say that to me.”

“I’m tired,” Regulus amended, irritated and ashamed.

“That is better.”

“It isn’t. It’s pathetic.”

“No,” Sirius said.

Everyone looked at him.

The word had come out rougher than he meant it to.

Sirius swallowed, throat burning. He looked at Regulus, and for a second all he could see was a much smaller version of him. Little hands clutching books too big for him. Dark curls slipping into wide grey eyes. A little brother standing in doorways, pretending he wasn’t waiting for Sirius to notice him.

Then the image broke, and Regulus was sixteen, pale and injured and furious at his own weakness, standing on a platform between a family that had failed them both and a train that would carry them somewhere else.

“It isn’t pathetic,” Sirius said.

Regulus stared at him.

Sirius forced himself to continue.

“It’s not.”

Regulus’s face gave nothing away. “Thank you for the detailed argument.”

Despite everything, James made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh.

Sirius huffed once. It almost hurt.

“Shut up.”

“You stormed over here.”

“Yeah, well.”

“You looked like you were about to start a public family scandal.”

“I still might.”

“Sirius,” Walburga said.

The old warning should have lit him up. Instead, it sounded tired.

Sirius looked at her.

She looked back.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then Walburga said, “We are asking you to keep an eye on him.”

Sirius blinked.

“What?”

Orion’s expression tightened with what looked very much like discomfort. “At school.”

“You’re asking me?”

“You are his brother,” Orion said.

The words hit harder than they should have.

Sirius barked a laugh, but there was no humour in it. “Am I?”

Regulus looked away again.

Walburga’s face pinched.

James shifted at Sirius’s side, not interfering but present, steady as a hand at his back.

“You are,” Orion said.

Sirius stared at him.

There were a thousand things he could have said to that. A thousand old hurts with sharp teeth. A thousand receipts written in slammed doors and cold dinners and family portraits screaming themselves hoarse.

But Regulus was standing there, tired and pale, with a brain injury and bad eyesight and a mother fussing over his hair like grief had made her human, and Sirius found that for once, the old war in his chest could wait.

Regulus came first.

Regulus had always come first, even when Sirius hated him. Even when he hated himself for caring. Even when they stood on opposite sides of every line their family had drawn in blood and ink.

Sirius dragged a hand through his hair.

“What does he need?” he asked.

Regulus frowned. “I am standing right here.”

“Good. You can listen.”

“I don’t need a minder.”

“You got bodyslammed by a Muggle and spent summer in hospital.”

Regulus’s eyes flashed. “Thank you, Sirius, I had briefly forgotten.”

Sirius flinched.

The bite landed because it sounded like him. Like Regulus. Like something normal trying to claw its way back into the space between them.

Barty pointed at Sirius without looking away from Regulus. “He has a point.”

Regulus betrayed genuine offence. “You are agreeing with Sirius?”

“I am emotionally unstable right now. Anything could happen.”

Evan crossed his arms. “You do need watching.”

“I do not.”

“You didn’t write.”

“That is not evidence.”

“It is to me.”

Pandora squeezed Regulus’s hand. “You disappear when you’re frightened.”

“I was not frightened.”

Dorcas looked at him.

Regulus looked back.

Dorcas said nothing.

Regulus’s expression tightened.

“Fine,” he said bitterly. “I was unconscious for portions of it. Does that satisfy everyone?”

Nobody laughed.

Regulus immediately looked like he regretted saying it.

Walburga made a small sound and pulled him closer. “Regulus.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, very quietly.

Sirius stared at him.

Regulus Black apologised about as often as eclipses happened indoors.

Lily stepped forward then, gentle but firm.

“Regulus,” she said, “nobody here wants to make you feel helpless.”

Regulus gave her a look.

She lifted one eyebrow. “Most of us, anyway.”

Marlene raised her hand. “I might, if you’re annoying.”

Mary elbowed her.

“What? He’d respect honesty.”

Regulus’s mouth twitched again.

Lily continued, “But if you’ve got injuries that affect your head and eyesight, then people need to know how not to make it worse. That’s not pity. That’s basic sense.”

Remus nodded. “Noise, light, sudden movement, crowds. Those can be difficult.”

Regulus looked at him a little more carefully.

Remus’s voice stayed calm. “You don’t owe anyone details. But you might need people who notice when you’re overdoing it.”

“I have people,” Regulus said.

Dorcas answered immediately. “Yes.”

Pandora nodded. “You have us.”

Barty’s face twisted. “Unfortunately for you.”

Evan said, “Very unfortunately.”

Sirius looked at them, then at Regulus.

Something ugly and grateful moved under his ribs.

“Good,” Sirius said.

Regulus blinked at him.

Sirius swallowed hard. “Good. He should.”

Walburga watched him as though trying to read a language she had forgotten she once spoke.

Orion looked between his sons.

For a heartbeat, they almost looked like a family.

Not healed. Not forgiven. Not whole.

Just gathered around the same wound.

The train gave a long whistle.

The sound tore through the platform.

Regulus flinched.

It was tiny, but everyone close saw it.

Walburga immediately lifted a hand near his ear without touching too suddenly. Orion turned sharply toward the train as if he could personally reprimand it for being loud. Pandora stepped closer. Barty’s hand hovered uselessly in the air, wanting to help and not knowing how.

Regulus shut his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he said automatically.

“Reg,” Evan warned.

Regulus opened his eyes, looking annoyed at himself. “It startled me.”

“That’s allowed,” Alice said softly.

“It’s inconvenient.”

“Most things are,” Frank said, then looked startled by his own contribution.

Regulus glanced at him.

Frank offered an awkward, sincere little smile.

Regulus looked away first.

Sirius rubbed a hand over his mouth.

He wanted to do something.

He had always been good at big gestures. Reckless rescues. Grand defiance. Slamming doors. Burning bridges. Turning pain into spectacle so nobody could see where it started.

But Regulus did not need spectacle.

Regulus needed the path cleared.

So Sirius turned on the crowd.

“OI,” he barked.

Half the platform looked over.

James straightened instantly, grin beginning to return in a dangerous shape because this, at least, he understood.

Sirius pointed toward the carriage doors. “Move along, yeah? Give us some bloody room.”

“Sirius,” Lily hissed, but she was already stepping into position.

James grabbed Regulus’s trunk before Orion could protest.

“I’ve got this.”

Orion’s hand tightened on the handle.

For one second, father and son’s best friend stared at each other.

James lifted his chin. “I’ve got it.”

Orion slowly released the trunk.

“Do not drop it.”

James looked deeply wounded. “Sir, I have never dropped anything important in my life.”

Lily coughed.

Mary muttered, “That is simply not true.”

“I didn’t drop it,” James said. “I fumbled with flair.”

Fabian and Gideon took the smaller bags from Orion before the silence could get too strange.

“Logistics,” Fabian declared.

“Bag department,” Gideon added.

Peter hurried forward and grabbed another case. It nearly pulled him sideways, but Frank caught the other end without comment.

Marlene moved ahead with Mary, both of them clearing a route with the kind of expressions that made younger students reconsider existing in their way.

“Move,” Marlene said.

“Please,” Mary added sweetly, which somehow made it more threatening.

Alice stayed close to Regulus’s left, watchful without crowding him. Remus fell into step near Sirius, calm and steady. Lily walked slightly ahead, scanning for gaps, her wand hand loose at her side.

Regulus looked around at all of them, visibly trapped between irritation, embarrassment, and something much more fragile.

“This is excessive,” he said.

Barty appeared on his right. “This is nothing. I considered screaming.”

“Please don’t.”

“I still might.”

“Barty.”

“For emotional balance.”

“No.”

Pandora, still holding his hand, smiled faintly through wet eyes. “You’re outnumbered.”

“I noticed.”

Dorcas walked behind him, gaze sharp on the crowd. “Good.”

Walburga did not let go until they reached the train door.

Then she turned Regulus toward her.

The platform seemed to quiet again, though it hadn’t. Sirius just heard it differently now, through the ringing in his own head.

Walburga lifted both hands and cupped Regulus’s face.

He stiffened at first, embarrassed by the public tenderness, but he did not pull away.

“My poor baby,” she whispered.

Sirius looked down.

He couldn’t watch.

Then he made himself watch anyway.

Walburga brushed Regulus’s hair back from his forehead, thumb barely grazing his temple. “You will rest when you need to.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“You will go to Madam Pomfrey if your head worsens.”

“Yes.”

“You will not pretend your vision is fine if it is not.”

Regulus sighed. “Yes.”

“You will write.”

“I will.”

“Properly.”

“Yes.”

“And you will let your friends help you.”

Regulus’s eyes flicked toward Barty, Evan, Pandora, Dorcas.

Barty looked like he was barely holding himself still. Evan looked furious at the universe. Pandora looked heartbroken. Dorcas looked ready to stand guard until the end of time.

Regulus’s voice softened.

“Yes.”

Walburga pulled him into her arms.

Regulus froze completely.

Then, slowly, painfully, he let himself lean into her.

Sirius felt something in him crack.

Orion stood very still beside them, one hand curling into a fist and releasing again. When Walburga finally let Regulus go, Orion stepped forward.

He did not embrace him at first.

He looked like he did not know how, not here, not beneath all this noise and steam and witness.

Then Regulus swayed just slightly toward him, and Orion moved.

He placed one hand at the back of Regulus’s head, careful, so careful, and drew him in against his chest.

Regulus’s eyes shut.

Orion bowed his head.

“My son,” he murmured.

Sirius looked away then.

He couldn’t help it.

James stood beside him, silent for once.

The second whistle blew.

Students began climbing aboard more urgently now, parents calling last reminders, owls screeching, trunks banging against steps.

Walburga let Regulus go with visible reluctance.

Then she turned to Sirius.

He went tense on instinct.

She stepped closer.

Not too close.

“Sirius,” she said.

His name sounded strange in her mouth like that. Not soft, exactly, but not cruel either.

He stared at her. “What?”

“Please.”

The word was barely there.

It still knocked the breath out of him.

Walburga Black did not say please.

Not to him.

Not ever.

Her eyes flicked to Regulus, then back.

“Look after your brother.”

Sirius’s throat closed.

He wanted to say something sharp. Something defensive. Something that would give them all back their proper roles.

Instead, he nodded once.

“I will.”

Regulus looked at him.

Sirius looked back.

“I mean it,” Sirius said, rough. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Regulus’s expression shifted, small and unreadable.

“I did not ask you to.”

“No. They did.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Never said you were.”

“You are going to be unbearable.”

“Probably.”

Regulus huffed faintly.

Sirius took a step closer, lowering his voice. “But I’ll do it anyway.”

For a moment, Regulus looked too tired to fight him.

Then he said, softly enough that only Sirius and maybe Remus heard, “Thank you.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened.

“Yeah,” he said. “Don’t make it weird.”

Regulus arched one brow, and there he was for half a second. His brother. Sharp. Insufferable. Alive.

“You are the one making it weird.”

Sirius almost smiled.

“Get on the train, you little nightmare.”

“Charming.”

Barty slipped in immediately. “I’ll allow little nightmare, actually.”

“You would,” Regulus said.

Evan moved toward the steps. “We need a compartment with curtains.”

“And not near first years,” Dorcas added.

“Or anyone loud,” Pandora said.

Barty looked at Sirius. “That includes you.”

Sirius barked a laugh before he could stop himself. “I’m always loud.”

“Yes,” Regulus said dryly. “We know.”

James hoisted the trunk. “Right then. VIP injured prince coming through.”

Regulus closed his eyes. “Potter.”

“What? Too much?”

“Yes.”

“Wounded duke?”

“No.”

“Tragic heir?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Beautifully damaged aristocratic menace?”

Mary snorted.

Marlene grinned despite herself. “That one’s got legs.”

Regulus looked pained. “I hate all of you.”

“That’s the spirit,” Fabian said.

“Recovery through irritation,” Gideon added.

Lily pointed up the steps. “Train. Now. Before this becomes a full performance.”

Frank adjusted his grip on one of the bags. “I think it already is.”

Alice smiled faintly. “A controlled one.”

Remus glanced at Sirius. “Are we capable of that?”

“No,” said everyone who knew them.

Sirius ignored them and stepped onto the train first, turning back to offer Regulus a hand before he could think better of it.

Regulus stared at it.

The platform seemed to hold its breath.

Sirius almost pulled away.

Then Regulus took his hand.

His grip was colder than Sirius expected.

Sirius helped him up the steps without yanking, without teasing, without turning it into a joke. Regulus moved carefully, jaw tight with concentration, and Sirius kept his hand steady until both feet were planted inside the carriage.

Behind them, Barty came up close, then Evan, then Pandora and Dorcas. James followed with the trunk, Lily guiding him so he didn’t hit anyone with it, Mary and Marlene hauling bags, Peter and Frank working together, Alice keeping watch, Fabian and Gideon arguing in whispers about compartment strategy.

On the platform below, Walburga and Orion remained side by side.

Sirius looked back.

His mother’s face was lifted toward Regulus. His father’s hand rested at her back.

They looked older than Sirius remembered.

Or maybe he was only seeing it now.

Regulus stood beside him in the carriage doorway and looked down at them.

Walburga raised one hand.

Regulus raised his back.

The train gave its final whistle.

Sirius felt Regulus tense beside him but not as badly this time.

“Easy,” Sirius murmured before he could stop himself.

Regulus glanced at him.

Sirius looked straight ahead, pretending he hadn’t said anything.

After a moment, Regulus said, “I am.”

The train began to move.

Slow at first, then with a gathering pull, wheels grinding, steam billowing past the windows. The platform slid away in fragments: waving hands, blurred faces, trunks, owls, red scarves, parents walking alongside until they could not keep pace.

Walburga kept her hand raised until the steam swallowed her.

Orion stood still beside her, watching until the train carried both his sons out of sight.

Inside the corridor, nobody spoke for a moment.

Then Barty turned on Regulus.

“You absolute bastard.”

Regulus sighed. “There it is.”

“You were in hospital.”

“Yes.”

“All summer.”

“Apparently.”

“Do not apparently me.”

“I was there, Barty. I am familiar with the timeline.”

“You didn’t tell us.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Still angry.”

“You may be angry.”

“I am.”

“I gathered.”

Barty’s face crumpled for half a second before he dragged the expression into a scowl. “I’m furious.”

Regulus looked at him quietly. “I know.”

Pandora wrapped both arms around Regulus’s waist very carefully, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

Regulus stilled.

Then his hand came up, hesitant, and settled against her back.

Evan looked away, blinking hard.

Dorcas said, “We’re finding the compartment now.”

“Yes,” Lily agreed at once. “Somewhere quiet.”

“Curtains,” Evan said.

“No direct sunlight,” Remus added.

Regulus gave him another careful look.

Remus shrugged slightly. “Headaches.”

Regulus nodded once, accepting the explanation without prying.

James shifted the trunk higher. “Lead the way, Evans.”

“Don’t call me that like you’re handing me command of a military operation.”

“This is a military operation.”

“It is a train corridor.”

“With obstacles.”

Peter, currently wedged awkwardly between two bags, said, “I’m one of the obstacles.”

Frank gently freed him. “You’re doing great.”

Peter smiled. “Thanks.”

Marlene leaned toward Mary. “This is going to be the weirdest year of our lives, isn’t it?”

Mary watched Sirius walking beside Regulus and softened.

“Probably.”

Fabian clapped Gideon on the shoulder. “I give it ten minutes before someone cries.”

Gideon looked at Barty. “Five.”

Barty pointed at them. “I can hear you.”

“Good,” said Gideon.

“I want you to.”

Regulus muttered, “Children.”

Sirius snorted.

Regulus looked at him.

“What?” Sirius said.

“Nothing.”

“No, go on.”

“I simply forgot how exhausting this train is.”

“You’ve been on it for ten seconds.”

“Yes.”

Sirius looked at him, really looked, and saw the strain beneath the dry tone. The slight pinch near his eyes. The way his fingers brushed the wall once for balance. The way he was trying, with every polished piece of himself, not to show weakness in front of anyone.

Something inside Sirius softened so abruptly it almost hurt.

He stepped slightly closer, shoulder nearly brushing Regulus’s.

Not touching.

Just there.

Regulus noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He didn’t move away.

They found a compartment near the back, quieter than the rest, with curtains that could be drawn halfway across the window. Lily immediately took charge of the lighting with the brisk authority of someone who had decided chaos could wait until everyone was seated. Remus helped adjust the shade. Alice checked the seats. Frank and Peter arranged the bags so nobody would trip. James shoved trunks overhead with unnecessary athleticism. Fabian and Gideon bickered softly while being surprisingly useful. Mary and Marlene guarded the door from curious passersby with matching expressions of not today.

Regulus sat by the window but not directly in the light.

Pandora sat beside him at once.

Barty dropped opposite him, knees bouncing.

Evan stood for a moment, staring, then sat too sharply.

Dorcas remained near the door.

Sirius hovered.

Regulus looked up at him.

“You may sit down,” he said.

Sirius blinked. “Was that permission?”

“It was an observation.”

“Sounded like permission.”

“It was not.”

“I’m taking it.”

He sat beside Remus, across from Regulus, close enough to watch him without making it too obvious. Or at least, he hoped it wasn’t obvious.

Judging by Lily’s face, it was extremely obvious.

James squeezed in beside Sirius, bumping his shoulder lightly.

“You alright?” he murmured.

Sirius stared at Regulus.

“No.”

James nodded.

“Yeah.”

Across from them, Walburga’s packed care had clearly followed Regulus onto the train in the form of a small bag Pandora opened without asking. Inside were carefully labelled potions, folded cloth, dark glasses, a note written in severe handwriting, and what appeared to be enough wrapped food to supply a minor siege.

Barty stared at the bag.

“Your mother packed you snacks?”

Regulus closed his eyes. “Unfortunately.”

Evan leaned over. “Is that cake?”

“No.”

“It is.”

“It is medicinal cake.”

Mary laughed softly from near the door. “Medicinal cake?”

“My mother has become impossible,” Regulus said.

Sirius watched him say it.

There was irritation in it.

Embarrassment.

But not hatred.

Not fear.

Not the old flinch.

Sirius didn’t know what to do with that either.

Maybe none of them did.

The train picked up speed, London blurring beyond the glass into brick, smoke, sky, and distance. The platform was gone now. Their parents were gone. The summer was behind them, though not truly. Not for Regulus. Not for any of them now that they knew.

For a while, the compartment stayed quieter than any compartment containing Sirius Black, James Potter, Barty Crouch Jr., Fabian Prewett, and Gideon Prewett had any right to be.

Then Regulus shifted slightly, wincing before he could hide it.

Every single person in the compartment looked at him.

Regulus froze.

“Stop,” he said.

Nobody moved.

“I mean it.”

Barty’s eyes narrowed. “Was that pain?”

“No.”

Evan said, “Liar.”

Pandora reached for the potion bag.

Regulus looked betrayed. “Pandora.”

She smiled sweetly. “You promised your mother.”

“I promised many things under duress.”

Dorcas said, “Take the potion.”

“No.”

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Take the potion, Reg.”

Regulus turned his glare on him, and this time it had real heat in it.

Sirius grinned faintly.

There.

There he was.

“Don’t start,” Regulus warned.

Sirius shrugged. “Take the potion and I won’t.”

“That is blackmail.”

“That is brotherhood.”

Regulus stared at him.

Sirius stared back.

The compartment held its breath again, but differently this time.

Then Regulus snatched the potion from Pandora with wounded dignity, uncorked it, and drank.

Barty clapped once. “Miracle.”

“I despise you,” Regulus said.

“You missed me.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“Unfortunately,” Evan muttered, “he did.”

Regulus looked offended all over again.

Pandora beamed.

Dorcas’s mouth softened into the ghost of a smile.

James leaned toward Sirius and whispered, “Your family’s mental.”

Sirius watched Regulus wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, watched him settle back against the seat with a little less tension around his eyes, watched Pandora lean into his side and Barty begin an angry lecture under his breath and Evan pretend not to fuss while absolutely fussing and Dorcas guard the door like a sentry.

Then Sirius glanced at James.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “But he’s mine.”

James’s expression softened.

Across the compartment, Regulus opened one eye.

“I heard that.”

Sirius did not look embarrassed.

For once, he didn’t even try to turn it into a joke.

“Good,” he said.

Regulus looked at him for a long moment.

Then he closed his eye again, tired and pale and alive, surrounded by too many people in too small a compartment, all of them watching over him in their own loud, clumsy, furious ways.

Outside, the train thundered north.

The courtyard was bathed in soft autumn light, golden leaves drifting lazily across the cobblestones as students lounged between classes. It was the kind of peace that begged to be destroyed.

Regulus Black was exactly where Sirius predicted: lounging on the edge of the fountain, boots crossed at the ankles, sipping a pumpkin latte like a bloody fashion ad. His tie was loose. His robes were perfect. His hair was too shiny. He was surrounded by his little entourage—Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, Pandora Rosier (who was aggressively clinging to his arm), Dorcas Meadowes, and—oddly—Emmeline Vance.

Lily and Mary were already there, arms crossed and glaring death beams at both Pandora and Emmeline, who were doing an impressive job of pretending not to notice while practically melting into Regulus’s side.

“Gods,” Marlene whispered, watching from behind a stone pillar. “It’s like watching four cats fighting over a really pretty chew toy.”

“No way this ends peacefully,” Frank muttered.

“Odds on someone hexing Emmeline in the face?” Fabian whispered.

“Shh—James is about to cast it,” Gideon hissed.

James, crouched behind the stone bench, gave Sirius a thumbs-up and whispered the incantation. A thin, glowing thread of light shot out and struck Regulus dead in the chest.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t scream.

Just went terrifyingly still.

The courtyard hushed.

Regulus blinked once. Then again, slower. His pupils dilated. His spine stiffened.

And then—

“I walk to school with my best friend Pandora…”

His voice rang out, sweet and monotone. The same perfectly clipped, posh voice he always used—except now it was robotic, glassy-eyed, almost possessed.

“Surprise, surprise, she’s late again…”

The courtyard erupted.

“WHAT THE FUCK,” Evan yelled.

“Oh Merlin—” Barty clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Who cast it? WHO CAST IT?” Pandora shrieked, clawing at the air.

Lily paled. “They actually did it. Those idiots actually did it.”

Regulus kept singing, dead-eyed:

“She’s got a club she wants me in Don’t think I’ve ever raised a pen…”

Pandora was gripping his wrist like she could shake him out of it. “Reggie, love, baby, come on—snap out of it—”

But it was no use.

“I'll consider it, sure No fan of literature…”

Mary was already snarling, eyes locked on Emmeline. “You’ve been dragging him to that tower, haven’t you?”

“I should Obliviate you right now,” Emmeline hissed back, her hand already reaching for her wand.

“Books with less pictures than words Leave me a little bit bored…”

Lily groaned. “He’s singing it all. Every word is literal. He’s exposing everything.”

Pandora looked like she’d just seen her diary read aloud in the Great Hall. “Oh fuck—oh fuck—”

“But hey, they promised cupcakes So it's a chance that I'll take…”

“You made him cupcakes?!” Emmeline screeched at Mary, who looked smug.

“Four gorgeous girls await me Okay, I think that I'll stay…”

The four girls froze.

Absolute deer-in-wandlight.

“Oh no,” Remus whispered. “He’s singing about them.”

“Pandora's aloof and kooky Mary's sweet and cutesy Emmeline is deep and brooding Lily's brains and beauty…”

Peter looked horrified. “He’s got a bloody ranking system.”

“They’re all in love with him,” Alice whispered, horrified. “Like—actual—obsessed—”

The song kept going.

“There’s a festival needs planning Swear I won’t leave them hanging…”

Pandora hissed. “He’s remembering everything. Every spell. Every fight. Every mind-wipe—”

“So many clubs to rival us I guess it's just the five of us…”

“You used Imperio on him?” Mary snarled.

“I had to!” Pandora shouted. “He was pulling away!”

“Just the five of us We can make it if we try…”

The Slytherins were frozen. Barty was watching with slack-jawed horror. Dorcas looked like she might cry.

“But each day that passes by Is tearing pages from my mind…”

“He’s glitching,” Gideon whispered.

Regulus’s voice shifted. Glitched, stuttered.

His body jerked slightly.

“Just the five of us No escaping if I tried…”

“He’s not just singing,” Lily said, horrified. “He’s re-living it.”

“Though these maidens might seem kind There's something going on behind…”

“Stop the spell!” Mary shrieked.

“We can’t,” James yelled. “It has to run its course!”

“They looked so sad and lonely I sold my soul for poetry This hell is members only Why did I say Okie-Doki?”

Pandora lunged for Emmeline. “You made him say yes!”

“You’re one to talk, you psychotic nymph!”

Wands were drawn. Spells flew.

“I walk to school alone again I'm not a guy with many friends…”

Sirius looked horrified. “He’s—he’s not even blinking.”

“Reg,” Barty tried to say. “Hey, Reg. It’s okay—snap out of it—”

“I’ve got no club, I've time to spend So I read manga and stay in…”

Evan made a choked noise. “Manga?”

“I run into Lily Says that I should just join hers…”

Lily’s eyes gleamed.

Oh no.

It was her arc now.

“It's a club for books with words But they need some more members…”

The courtyard had devolved into full warfare.

Students were screaming.

Professors were approaching from the far hallway.

“I say okay I'll come along for just one day…”

Mary was clutching her hair.

Pandora was throwing hexes.

Emmeline was sobbing.

Regulus sang on, robotic, serene, doomed.

“But just you try and get away When three gorgeous girls beg you to stay…”

Peter whimpered. “What even is this spell?”

“Pandora's $$%%€€ Mary's brutish cutesy Emmeline is too into me Lily's brains and beauty…”

Sirius stared, pale. “We—we broke him.”

The air rippled.

A final glitch.

Regulus twitched.

The spell surged.

“It's almost festival time Could say we're cutting it fine The task may seem laborious I wonder where Pandora is?”

Pandora screamed.

“I GUESS IT'S JUST THE FOUR OF US!”

Students scattered as Pandora launched herself at Emmeline again.

“Well I'm back at school again Lily's my only friend…”

Lily’s pupils blew wide.

She stepped forward, radiant.

“Lily's my everything My beginning and my end My—”

He froze.

“Wait a second, Weren’t there other girls here?”

Gasps.

“No—no no no—”

“Lily's aloof and kooky Lily's sweet and cutesy Lily is deep and brooding Lily's brains and beauty…”

Mary fainted.

Emmeline collapsed.

Pandora screamed bloody murder.

“Lily sees right through me Lily's all that you need…”

Lily was glowing.

Positively, triumphantly glowing.

“I'm not an ugly guy But I can't understand why She'd be so utterly in love she'd leave her club mates to die…”

Gasps turned to shrieks.

“Lily's obsession is ominous to be honest Omnipotent Goddess concocting demonic sonnets…”

James had dropped his wand.

Sirius was slack-jawed.

Remus just muttered, “We deserve this.”

“I could delete her, but I never could harm Lily…”

“Delete me?” Lily whispered, eyes shining. “You love me…”

“So I'm trapped here forever Where's my head gone?”

The spell was ending.

“Never thought I'd get a girl Literally out of this world…”

Lily stepped closer, hands on Regulus’s cheeks.

“Guess she controls the universe Looks like it's just the two of us…”

Everyone held their breath.

“Just the two of us In this classroom in the sky Crimes of passion are just fine When enacted on AI…”

Sirius blinked. “What’s AI?”

“Shut up,” Remus whispered.

“Just the two of us Quite a drastic pickup line Leaving other girls to die Just to guarantee I'm yours…”

Pandora, Mary, and Emmeline lay in a heap—singed, shaking, muttering Regulus’s name like a prayer.

“She seemed so sad and lonely Don't think there's any hope for me…”

Lily cradled Regulus as he finally blinked.

“This hell is members only Why did I say Okie Dokie?”

Silence.

Pure, utter, horror-struck silence.

“...What,” Sirius whispered hoarsely, “the fuck was that?”

Lily smiled.

“You boys,” she said sweetly, brushing Regulus’s hair from his face, “should really learn to mind your own fucking business.”

Regulus passed out.

And chaos reigned.

The courtyard didn’t so much erupt as shatter.

Voices crashed into each other—high, hoarse, hysterical—like glass thrown into a storm. Someone screamed Regulus’s name. Someone else screamed Lily. Someone swore so loudly Professor McGonagall would’ve felt it three corridors away.

Pandora lunged first.

“Reggie—baby—love—” she sobbed, hands outstretched, fingers shaking as she tried to reach for where he lay crumpled on the stones.

Mary caught her by the collar and yanked her back hard enough that Pandora nearly fell. “Don’t you dare touch him—”

Emmeline snarled and shoved Mary away from behind. “You don’t get to decide anything anymore—”

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Lily screamed, already moving, already furious, already incandescent with something that looked uncomfortably like triumph curdling into panic.

Pandora clawed at Emmeline. Emmeline hexed blindly. Mary swung her wand like a weapon. Lily tried to push through all of them at once, eyes locked on Regulus like he was the only solid thing left in the world.

None of them made it more than a step.

Each time one surged forward, another dragged her back—hands in hair, fingers digging into sleeves, nails raking skin. They were feral now. Screaming, crying, spitting Regulus’s name like a prayer and a curse all at once.

Around them, everyone else stood frozen.

“What—what just happened?” Peter croaked, clutching Remus’s sleeve.

Remus couldn’t answer. His face had gone ashen, eyes flicking between the girls, the spells still crackling faintly in the air, and Regulus’s unmoving body.

Dorcas dropped to her knees beside Regulus, hands hovering uselessly, afraid to touch him. “Reg—Regulus—please—”

Evan swore violently, backing himself between Regulus and the girls, wand up, jaw clenched. “Stay the fuck back.”

Barty was shaking. Not theatrically. Not dramatically. Actually shaking. “They—” He swallowed. “They did that to him?”

Sirius hadn’t moved at all.

He couldn’t breathe.

This was supposed to be a prank. A song. A humiliation. Something he could laugh about later and pretend didn’t come from a place that hurt.

This was—this was—

Regulus groaned.

Every sound died in the air like it had been strangled.

The girls froze mid-fight. Wands paused. Hands slackened.

Regulus shifted.

Slowly. Painfully.

He dragged himself onto his elbows, then his hands, palms slipping slightly on the stone as his body trembled under the effort. His hair fell into his face, sweat-damp and tangled. His breathing was shallow, uneven.

“Reg—?” Dorcas whispered.

His head snapped up.

Wild. Unfocused. Grey eyes blown wide with terror.

“Where—” His voice cracked. He whipped his head left, then right, panic spiking visibly as his gaze caught on the ring of faces, the wands, the chaos. “Where am I?”

Pandora surged forward again. “You’re safe, sweetheart—”

He scrambled back with a broken sound, palms scraping stone, slamming into Evan’s legs as he tried to put distance between himself and her.

“Don’t—” Regulus gasped. “Don’t touch me—don’t come near me—”

Mary froze, colour draining from her face. “Regulus…?”

He stared at her.

Recognition flickered—

And then horror.

“No,” he breathed. “No—no—no—”

His hands came up to his head like he was trying to hold his thoughts in place. His body shuddered violently.

“Oh gods,” Lily whispered, taking an instinctive step back. “That’s not—he shouldn’t—”

“Everything’s gone,” Regulus said hoarsely. “I—I can’t—I don’t remember—years—there’s—”

He retched dryly, gagging, clutching at his ribs.

“Potion withdrawal,” Remus said sharply, finally snapping into motion. “He’s been dosed repeatedly—Merlin—”

Sirius was moving before he realised it. Dropping to his knees, hands up, voice low and wrecked.

“Reg. Reg, it’s me. It’s Sirius. You’re at Hogwarts. You’re safe. I swear—”

Regulus flinched at the sound of his name.

Then his eyes locked on Sirius.

Something inside him snapped.

“You,” Regulus choked, and for a second Sirius thought—thought—that it was blame, that it was hatred—

Instead, Regulus surged forward and collapsed into him, fingers fisting violently in Sirius’s robes like he was the only thing keeping him upright.

“They—” Regulus sobbed. “They did things to me. All of them. They—”

The courtyard exploded again.

“No—” Pandora cried. “Reggie, that’s not—”

“LIAR,” Regulus screamed, raw and animal. He twisted violently in Sirius’s grip, pointing with a shaking hand. “You—all of you—”

Evan and Barty moved instinctively, flanking him, Dorcas gripping his sleeve as if to anchor him to the present.

“You erased me,” Regulus spat, voice breaking. “You took my memories—over and over—whenever I tried to leave—”

Mary sobbed. “We loved you—”

“You controlled me,” he screamed back. “You made me forget people—I couldn’t remember why I stopped seeing them—I thought they hated me—”

Emmeline shook her head frantically. “We were helping you—”

“You hurt them,” Regulus said, eyes blazing now, tears streaming unchecked. “You hurt people I cared about. You ruined them. You made me watch—made me smile—”

Lily stepped forward, hands trembling. “Regulus, listen to me—”

He recoiled like she’d struck him.

“No,” he hissed. “Don’t. You don’t get to talk to me. Any of you.”

His body seized again, a violent shudder ripping through him. Sirius tightened his grip instinctively, holding him upright as Regulus gagged, shaking, breath coming in ragged gasps.

“He’s crashing,” Remus said urgently. “Someone get Madam Pomfrey now.”

Frank was already running.

Pandora collapsed to her knees, screaming Regulus’s name like it was being torn out of her. Mary sobbed openly. Emmeline looked hollowed out, shaking, wand slipping from numb fingers. Lily stood perfectly still, face unreadable, eyes fixed on Regulus with something dark and calculating still burning beneath the shock.

The rest of the Gryffindors surged forward at once.

James hovered uselessly, pale and sick. Marlene swore violently and rounded on the girls like she might actually hex them into the ground. Alice knelt, murmuring softly, steady and calm, trying to ground Regulus with her voice alone.

Fabian and Gideon formed a loose barrier without even speaking, putting themselves squarely between Regulus and the four girls.

Sirius pressed his forehead to Regulus’s hair, voice breaking. “I’m here. I’ve got you. I swear—I swear—I won’t let them touch you again.”

Regulus clutched him like a lifeline, shaking apart in his arms as years of stolen time crashed back into him all at once.

No one laughed.

No one breathed easy.

And somewhere, deep in the wreckage of what was supposed to be a joke, the truth finally stood—bloody, screaming, and impossible to ignore.

The air was wet with screaming.

It hit like a storm—no warning, no reason, just the sudden detonation of Regulus Black’s voice shredding through the courtyard like a blade through silk.

“YOU USED ME!”

The sound cracked like lightning.

People flinched. Even the ones who weren’t part of it. Even the ones who’d just come to see a prank, a song, a laugh. Now it was blood. Now it was bones. Now it was truth.

“You think I don’t remember now?!” Regulus roared, eyes white-hot with rage, sweat sticking his fringe to his temples. “You think I forgot what you DID to me?! You think those memory charms held forever?! You think drugging me every fucking week was enough to keep it buried?!”

Mary backed up a step. Her mouth opened but no sound came.

Regulus lunged toward her, teeth bared, and it took both Evan and Sirius grabbing his arms to hold him back. He thrashed in their grip, lips peeled back, spit flying.

“YOU FUCKING RAPED ME.”

Dead silence.

Then screams. Sobs. A girl fainted somewhere to the left. Someone vomited into a planter.

Pandora was on her knees now, shaking her head so fast it looked like her neck might snap. “No—no, Reggie, we—”

“Don’t you fucking say my name!” Regulus howled, spit frothing at the corners of his mouth. “You think just because I smiled through it—because you pumped me full of lust potion and said sweet things—you think I WANTED it?!”

His voice cracked, then rose again, shrill with fury.

“You cornered me. You climbed into my bed. You—fucking—trapped me—like I was some toy you could wind up and make come on command!”

Lily’s face was pale. Stone-like. She didn’t move.

“You sucked my cock with tears in your eyes and told me it was love!” Regulus spat toward her, unhinged laughter bubbling out of his chest. “You’re all deranged. Fucking—feral. Like animals in heat with a god complex.”

Emmeline made a choked noise.

Regulus snarled at her.

“You liked the handjobs best, didn’t you? Thought I wouldn’t notice when you took your wand and made me hard in my sleep. Fucking—sick bitch—”

Sirius flinched beside him.

Regulus was shaking now. Not from fear—no. This was power. This was fury carving him into something electric and ancient and terrible.

“You made me fuck you,” he hissed, voice dropping into something guttural. “Over and over. You told me I loved you. That it was right. That I was broken before you. You’re all delusional.”

His hands clawed into his hair, ripping at the roots.

“I can still feel you,” he growled. “Your fingers, your mouths—on me, in me, your nails, your fucking breath in my ear—”

He gagged.

Actually, physically gagged. Doubling over as bile climbed his throat, raw and burning. But he didn’t stop. Not for a second.

“Everything I ever liked—every person I ever looked at—you ruined it. You made me hate myself. You made me forget myself. You—you said you were protecting me!”

He whipped toward Mary, eyes bloodshot, manic.

“You called me yours while I begged to be left alone. Do you remember that? Or did you erase it?”

Mary sobbed.

“SHUT UP,” Regulus barked. “Don’t you fucking cry now. You didn’t cry when I said no. You didn’t cry when I bled.”

Pandora made a keening sound.

Regulus’s laugh turned sharp. Serrated.

“And you, Pandora—always the ringleader, weren’t you? You called it a game. You said I was lucky to be chosen. Lucky to be fucked by a Rosier.”

He tilted his head, grin cracked and gleaming.

“I’ve had better from strangers in Knockturn Alley. You moaned like a banshee and came in less than a minute—how the fuck do you still act like you’re worth anything?”

Gasps.

Lily’s mouth trembled.

“And you,” Regulus hissed, gaze swinging to her, gleaming with acid. “The genius. The golden girl. You controlled me like a fucking experiment. Like a potions test. Measured out every fucking word like it was a variable to monitor. You stripped me bare and then told yourself it was ‘destiny.’ Fuck you.”

She blinked. Just once.

Regulus spat at her feet.

“You think I’d ever love any of you again?” His voice hitched up again, higher and hysterical. “I’d rather die. If you ever touch me again—I swear on every fucking star in the Black family name—I’ll fucking kill you.”

Dorcas gasped.

James took a step forward—

Regulus screamed and broke free of Sirius and Evan in one insane burst of motion, lunging like a rabid wolf toward the four of them.

“REGULUS—” Sirius shouted, grabbing his waist—

But not before Regulus swiped his hand forward like he meant to claw their faces off. A glimmer of magic sparked off his fingertips, dark and hot.

They all stumbled back, wands raised. Emmeline shrieked. Mary fell over. Pandora screamed like a banshee and nearly dove into the fountain. Lily didn’t flinch. Her eyes locked with his and held.

Regulus started to laugh.

Not quiet.

Not soft.

But full-bodied, manic, chest-heaving laughter, cracked and wheezing like he hadn’t laughed in years and now couldn’t stop.

“You should see your faces,” he gasped. “Crying like you’re the fucking victims. Crying because what? You miss me?”

He tilted his head to the side, wicked grin wide.

“You think I care how you feel?” he hissed, eyes wild, teeth bared. “You think I didn’t see how you lied to each other? How you fought over who got to fuck me first? You’re all the same. Pathetic. Sad little girls dressing up your obsession in friendship and pretending it wasn’t rot from the inside out.”

Mary sobbed again.

“You cried when I kissed her,” Regulus mocked, voice shrill with hysteria. “You cried when I slept with her. You told each other you didn’t mind, but you all watched. Fucking creeped. You took turns.”

He was unravelling. Words pouring out like blood from a wound.

“Do you remember when you made me choose?” he snapped. “And when I didn’t—you cast a fucking curse so I couldn’t touch anyone but you.”

The crowd was in shambles.

Some were screaming. Some crying. Some trying to leave and being trampled. Professors were in the distance, sprinting toward them like a cavalry too late.

“I’m not your fucking boyfriend,” Regulus hissed, voice trembling with rage. “I’m not your pet. I’m not a fucking doll to dress up and pass around and break when you’re done!”

He turned his head and spat again, shaking.

“I’m done. I’m done pretending any of this was love. I hope it hurts. I hope every time you remember me, you feel like vomiting. I hope you fucking rot.”

Then—quieter.

Softer.

“But most of all… I hope you never forget that I hate you.”

He frowned and sat up straighter. “You’re going the wrong direction.”

James didn’t even look at him. “Am I?”

“Yes, James,” Regulus snapped. “My brother’s flat is literally not wherever the fuck you’re taking me.”

James just hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I know.”

That made Regulus freeze. His spine stiffened. He glanced over, narrowing his eyes.

“Then where are you taking me?”

Silence for a beat. Then James’s hand shifted.

Slid off the gear stick and landed on Regulus’s thigh.

Regulus jumped.

“What the fuck—”

“Relax,” James said, voice all low velvet and lazy heat. His fingers squeezed, slowly. Like he’d done it before. Like he knew. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.”

Regulus’s heart stuttered. His phone dropped to his lap, screen going black.

James was still driving, hand warm and steady, eyes on the road but mouth tilted in that maddening, knowing little smile.

“I saw your journal,” James said casually, as if announcing the weather.

Regulus didn’t breathe.

“What?”

“Few weeks ago. You left it in the living room.” A soft chuckle. “Couldn’t help myself. Thought it was Sirius’s at first. But then I realised it was yours. Read a few lines.”

“You—”

“I didn’t mean to,” James lied beautifully. “But once I started, well...”

Regulus was going to die. Not just from shame. Not just from his lungs giving out. He was going to kill James first, and then die from shame.

He grabbed James’s wrist. Tried to shove the hand away. Failed.

James was too strong. Too calm. His hand stayed put, dragging slightly higher.

“I know you’ve had a crush on me since you were—what—twelve?” James said, glancing over with a wink. “That’s a long time to keep something like that bottled up, Reggie.”

“Don’t call me—”

“I saw the doodles,” James went on mercilessly. “The little hearts. The song lyrics. The ‘Potter’ scribbled all over the margins.”

Regulus wanted to fling himself out the window.

“And,” James added, voice dipping, “I may have gone looking on purpose after that.”

“You what?” Regulus croaked, nearly choking.

James finally pulled into a quiet layby. Secluded. Shadowed by trees. Nobody else around.

He turned off the engine.

Turned to Regulus.

“Found some interesting things in your room,” James murmured, hand sliding higher up Regulus’s thigh, thumb brushing slow circles into the fabric of his school trousers. “Lacy panties. A few toys. And one of my old hoodies. You really kept that, huh?”

Regulus couldn’t speak. His face was on fire.

James leaned closer, breath warm against his cheek.

“I gotta say, baby,” he whispered. “It drove me fucking mad.”

Regulus whimpered. Quiet. Shaky. Eyes wide and glossy and stunned.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispered.

James tilted his head. “Because you’re gorgeous. And sexy. And a little brat. And because I want you.”

Regulus shook his head. “You’re Sirius’s best friend. You’re—you’re you.”

James smiled. “Yeah. And you’re you. You think I didn’t notice how pretty you are? How fucking tempting? You strut around in those tiny shorts at home and pretend you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. You’ve been teasing me for months.”

“I haven’t—”

“You have.” James’s voice was a growl now, low and dangerous and dark with heat. “And I’ve been patient. But when I saw that journal... fuck, Reg. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Regulus stared at him, breathing fast and shallow.

James reached out and cupped his face. Gently. Tender, even.

His thumb brushed over Regulus’s bottom lip.

“You want this too,” James said. “I know you do.”

Regulus hesitated. His fingers clenched in his lap.

Then—very slowly—he reached out.

Grabbed the front of James’s shirt.

And tugged.

Just a little.

James exhaled sharply.

“Fuck,” he muttered, and then he was leaning in, tilting his head, closing the gap.

Their mouths met like a secret finally spoken.

Hot and slow and hungry. Tongue sliding. Lips parting. Breaths mixing. Regulus made a soft, broken sound and James groaned, deep and rough, hand sliding around the back of Reg’s neck.

Regulus felt weightless. Like falling. Like flying. Like drowning in something he’d written about a hundred times and never thought he’d taste.

James kissed like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he’d been waiting for this. Like he wasn’t ever going to stop.

One of his hands stayed in Regulus’s hair. The other slid back to his thigh, gripping tight.

Regulus gasped into his mouth. Moaned softly. Clung to him.

“God, you’re perfect,” James whispered, kissing along his jaw. “So fucking perfect.”

“James,” Regulus breathed.

James pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. His smile was softer now. Less teasing. More real.

“I want you,” he said again. “Not just like this. I want to be with you. If you want that too.”

Regulus stared at him. Blushing. Shaking. Lip bitten red.

Then nodded.

Slowly. Shyly. But surely.

And James kissed him again. Smiling against his lips. Like it was the only thing in the world he ever wanted to do.

The kiss never ended—it just transformed.

It bled into teeth and tongue and sound, heat rising in the air like a storm cloud with no place left to go but down. Regulus was gasping into James’s mouth, head tilted back as his fingers scrabbled for purchase in leather and denim, wrists trembling where they clutched at James’s jacket like he might disappear if he let go.

James didn’t plan to let him. Not in this lifetime.

“God, baby,” James growled, voice already wrecked with want, vibrating deep from his chest like thunder too close to run from. “You sound so fucking pretty when you beg.”

“I’m not—begging—” Regulus whispered, shaking, breath catching in broken little hiccups between words.

James’s teeth scraped his jaw and Reg made a noise, high and breathy—“Hhhuuh—!”—his thighs squeezing tighter around James’s hips, head snapping back to hit the headrest. James just chuckled against his throat, licking a slow stripe up the side of his neck like he was tasting something forbidden, then biting just below the jawline until Reg keened.

Then, without warning, James’s hand shot down beside the seat.

Click—whump.

The lever slammed. The seat dropped flat beneath them in a mechanical crash and Regulus squealed, flailing as they both went with it, James on top of him like a collapsing wave. The sudden shift made Reg’s knees fly up, curling around James’s waist by instinct, his heels locking behind James’s back like he never wanted to be anywhere else.

“Oh my god—James—!” he gasped, dazed and flustered and flushed bright pink, staring up at the ceiling, arms spread out like he'd just been thrown.

James laughed—soft, delighted, growling against Regulus’s cheek as he readjusted his weight, bracing his elbows beside Reg’s head, hips slotting down and forward, grinding slow and heavy between Regulus’s legs.

Regulus arched. The whole length of him, pressed back into the reclined leather seat, arched like he was trying to climb James’s body, whimpering out a desperate, cracked, “Nnh—ahh, fuck—”*

“You like that?” James murmured, voice thick with amusement and hunger. “Didn’t know you’d be so loud for me, sweetheart.”

“M’not,” Regulus gasped, nails digging into James’s back now, legs flexing tighter, keeping him there, pulling. “I’m—I don’t, I mean—just—fuck—you’re huge.”

James froze, then groaned, like the words hit something buried in his spine and yanked. “Say that again.”

Regulus shook his head, panting. Squirmed. Flushed darker.

So James reached down, took his wrist, and guided—slow, smooth, patient as a devil—Regulus’s hand down between them.

“Here,” James whispered. “Feel it.”

Reg’s fingers landed right against the hard length in James’s jeans, and he jerked, gasping again, body flinching back like he’d been burned. Then he moaned—“Ohhhnn—!”—and grabbed tighter, squeezing, grinding his hips up against it helplessly.

James’s hips bucked forward in response, grinding hard against Reg’s palm with a low, animalistic groan. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed. “You’re killing me.”

“Wan’ it,” Regulus whimpered, breath breaking apart into hiccuping little sobs of want, eyes wide and wet and glassy. “Wan’ it, please—I want it so bad, Jamie—want you to fuck me, please—”

That please wrecked James.

He crushed their mouths together again, kissing him hard and messy, tongue pushing deep until Reg was whimpering into him, arching his back off the seat. James swallowed every sound, pulled back with a string of spit between their lips, and let his forehead fall to Regulus’s.

“Tell me,” James growled, breath hot against Reg’s cheek. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you think about when you’re in bed, all alone with those little toys. What you imagine me doing to you.”

Reg bit his lip—then moaned out loud when James’s hips pressed down again, rubbing against him perfectly.

“I—I think about you grabbing me,” he panted, eyes fluttering. “Like you did. Like—slamming me back like that—holding me down—and, and putting your hand on my mouth and saying I have to be quiet—”

James made a sound. Deep and broken and feral.

“—and, and spreading my legs—lifting them—and saying I look pretty like that, like a doll, and—nnghh—and spitting on me and telling me to beg and—and saying it’s all mine, all for you, Jamie—fuck, I want it so bad, please—”

James couldn’t take it. He couldn’t breathe. His head dropped to Regulus’s shoulder and he let out a strangled groan like it was torn straight from his ribs.

“Jesus fuck,” he gasped. “Reg—I’ve never—no one’s ever made me feel like this, you understand me? No one—”

He surged up, kissed Reg hard, hips grinding down again as Regulus cried out, legs locked around him tight.

“You’re mine,” James growled. “You say the word and I’ll fuck you right here—right now—I’ll make you scream, baby. You want that?”

“Yes—” Regulus cried, hands in his hair now, hips rolling desperately. “Want it, want you, please, James, please—”

James was gone.

He reached between them, one hand pushing Regulus’s school shirt up, the other fumbling with his own belt, groaning like he was about to come just from the sound of Regulus begging. His mouth never stopped moving—pressing kisses to Reg’s throat, whispering in his ear, “You’re so pretty—so perfect—such a fucking dream, baby, you’re gonna take it so good, aren’t you? Gonna let me ruin you, yeah?”

“Y-yeah—yes, James—”

“Fuck, I love you like this—clingy and sweet and making those sounds—fuck, you sound so good, so good, I need to hear you—don’t stop—don’t ever stop—”

The windows were fogging. The whole car smelled like sweat and heat and everything they’d never said. Regulus was a mess beneath him, whimpering, panting, nails dragging down his back.

And James—James was gone.

High off it. Obsessed. Possessed.

All he could see was Regulus. All he could feel was this boy under him—shivering and moaning and giving him everything.

And James was going to take it all. Gently. Roughly. Over and over.

Because nothing had ever felt like this.

Nothing had ever mattered more.

Clothes were the enemy. A barrier. A goddamn insult.

James yanked his shirt off like it had personally wronged him, the fabric catching on his curls, half-blinding him until he flung it into the footwell with a grunt. His hands were on Regulus again before the fabric even settled—unbuttoning his school shirt with fast, frantic tugs that barely passed for patience.

Regulus was gasping, trembling, his hands fluttering like he didn’t know where to touch first. James solved that for him—grabbed both of Regulus’s wrists in one hand, slammed them overhead against the seat, and leaned down to suck a mark into the hollow of his throat.

“Didn’t wear the panties today, baby?” James purred, tongue tracing the edge of a bruise. “Mmm. That’s a shame. You know I love when you dress up for me.”

Regulus let out a high, broken whine—“Nnhhh—s-sorry—!”—hips bucking up reflexively as James tugged his slacks down. His cock sprang free, flushed and leaking, twitching against his belly, and James groaned, low and deep and wrecked.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, releasing Reg’s wrists just so he could cup him—cradling the base of his cock like it was something precious. “You’re so hard already, baby—so fucking pretty. Look at that. All red and dripping for me.”

Reg bit his lip, trying to muffle the sound in his throat. It didn’t work. He let out a soft, squeaky, “Mmh—haa—”, turning his face away like he was ashamed of how desperate he looked.

James didn’t let that slide.

He slid one hand up, grabbed Regulus’s chin, and turned his head back until their eyes locked.

“Don’t you fucking look away from me,” he growled. “You’re mine. All this? Mine. Every sound, every inch, every little squeak you make—I want to see it. Wanna watch your face while I tear you open.”

Regulus’s eyes fluttered. His mouth fell open.

James reached over, fumbled blindly on the dash, and pressed a button.

With a soft whirrrr, every window in the car darkened to black. Like curtains falling over a stage. Like the rest of the world didn’t exist anymore.

James looked down at Reg again, smirking.

“Just us now, baby. No one else gets to see you like this. No one ever will.”

Reg whimpered, eyes wide and glassy, knees lifting again automatically as James moved lower—between his legs now, hiking them up higher, one over each shoulder.

“You’re gonna lose your mind,” James murmured, voice like velvet fire. “You’re gonna scream for me. You’re gonna come so fucking hard you forget your name.”

Then he reached down.

Spread Regulus open.

And moaned.

“Ohh, baby,” James exhaled, dragging his thumb down to stroke over Reg’s hole, watching it flutter under the touch. “Look at that. Fuck. Fucking gorgeous. Pink and tight and—mmm, twitching already.”

Regulus shook.

“J-James—ahh—”

“You want it?” James asked, voice rough with lust, already reaching down for the lube in his jacket pocket. He popped it open one-handed, eyes locked on Reg’s face. “Want me to get you ready nice and slow? Stretch this perfect little hole till you’re begging me to slide in?”

“*Yes—yesyesyes—*please—!” Regulus cried, loud and shaking, legs tightening around his shoulders as his back arched.

James laughed, low and rough, then leaned down to kiss Regulus’s ankle, then the inside of his knee. He smeared the first slick finger over the entrance, watching Reg jolt with a shivery gasp.

“Such a good boy,” he cooed. “So responsive. Always so fucking quiet, all the time, walking around like no one can touch you—and now look at you.”

He pressed the first finger in.

Reg’s mouth fell open.

“NnHHH—hahh—James—!”

“Oh, that’s it,” James whispered, starting a slow push, curling his finger just enough to make Reg wriggle. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you. I love when you’re noisy like this. You’re always so shy and cold but now? Fucking melting for me.”

Reg whined, high and constant, hands gripping the edges of the seat like he was holding onto reality by threads.

“Bet you think about this all the time,” James went on, teasing a second finger against the rim now, grinning when Reg shivered violently. “Late at night. Toys inside you. Moaning my name into your pillow. Trying not to wake your brother.”

Regulus’s face flamed crimson. His hands flew up to cover it, but James caught one and pinned it down.

“No hiding,” he growled. “Not from me.”

Then he pushed the second finger in.

Reg screamed.

“Ahhh—fuhh—JAMES—!”

James could barely hold back. His cock was straining against his jeans, leaking into the fabric, and his other hand went down to press against it, grinding for relief as he moaned into Regulus’s thigh.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned. “You’re so fucking tight—I’ve dreamed about this, Reg—I’ve thought about you like this for so long, you have no idea—”

“Thought about—*nnhh—*what?” Reg whimpered, writhing against his fingers, fucking down on them now like he couldn’t get enough.

James leaned in, lips against his ear.

“Thought about bending you over the kitchen table. On your knees in the shower. Riding me in the back of that shit movie we went to last week. Wanting to hear you scream. Wanting to make you mine.”

Reg bit his lip hard—then sobbed out loud, cock jerking against his stomach.

“*Jamie—fuck—fuck me, please—*I need it—need you—”

James curled his fingers inside him and whispered, “You’ll get it, baby. You’ll get everything. I’m gonna ruin you.”

And Regulus? He whimpered.

He spread wider.

And he begged for more.

James didn’t stop.

Two fingers twisting deep inside Regulus, spreading him wide and slow and ruthless, curling just right to make the boy tremble. But now—now he was leaning in, breath hot against that delicate, twitching little hole, and Reg barely had time to gasp before—“hnnNAHHH—!”

James licked him.

Tongue flat, then pointed, dragging up through the slick mess he’d made, swirling around the rim with obscene patience, then pressing in, pushing past where his fingers had already stretched and softened, tongue-fucking him with a groan that vibrated straight into Reg’s spine.

Regulus screamed.

“Nnh—f-fuck—fuckfuck—James—!”

James just growled in response. Deep. Hungry. Possessed. The sound of it poured over Reg’s skin like hot wax, sinking in and scorching every nerve.

“God, listen to you,” James murmured, voice thick, lips wet. “You’re screaming, baby. Didn’t think you’d be this loud for me, but fuck, I love it. You’re gonna be a fucking mess by the time I’m done with you.”

He licked again. Long and slow, tongue curling inward, and Reg sobbed into his hands, thighs shaking where they hung off the seat.

James slid his fingers back in beside his tongue—three now—his free hand gripping Reg’s thigh and spreading him wider, opening him like a gift he’d waited too long to unwrap.

“Mmhh, fuck, this ass,” James moaned, licking his lips. “You should see yourself. Pretty little hole twitching on my tongue, swallowing my fingers like you were made for this.”

Regulus was wailing—high, breathy cries punching from his chest every time James thrust in deeper.

“Hnnuhhh—fuck—fuck, Jamie—ohmygod—”

James pressed a kiss to the underside of his thigh, then another to the curve of his ass.

“I’ve got plans for you, baby,” he murmured against his skin, voice dark and dangerous. “Next time? You're wearing those red lace panties I found at the back of your drawer. You know the ones. With the bows.”

Reg whimpered, face buried in his arm.

“And a skirt,” James went on, dragging his tongue up his hole again, “short enough that I can bend you over whatever I want. Let everyone see what a slut you are for me. Stockings. Garters. Fucking heels, Reggie. Wanna hear you click when you walk.”

“I-I didn’t—ahhh—didn’t know you were picking me up today—!” Reg sobbed, squirming under his tongue, voice pitchy with desperation.

James pulled back with a grin, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Yeah, well. You didn’t dress pretty for me.”

Regulus wriggled, panting hard. “I had class! It’s fucking Friday! Everyone there’s a creep, I can’t—I can’t show up like that—”

“Aww,” James cooed, mockingly sweet. “So you dressed boring ‘cause you didn’t know you’d be mine today?”

He spanked him again. Sharp. Fast. Just hard enough to make Reg jolt and squeal.

“Say sorry, baby.”

Regulus sniffled. Tried to squirm away. Failed.

“S-Sorry, James—!”

James groaned, deep and fucked-out, the sound dragging from his chest like it physically hurt.

“Ohhh, that voice,” he rasped. “So fucking cute when you’re whiny. Bet you’d cry for me in those heels, wouldn’t you? All dressed up like a little doll, and I’d fuck you over the couch ‘til your makeup ran.”

Reg whimpered. Loud. High. His hips were twitching, hole fluttering around James’s fingers.

“Fuck,” James bit out. “You’re ready.”

He pulled his fingers out, slow and wet, watching Reg’s entrance clench after them, open and glistening and perfect. Reg whimpered at the loss, breath catching.

“Turn over,” James growled, standing enough to shove at Reg’s hips. “Now. Face down.”

Regulus scrambled, flushed and shaking, arms giving out halfway as he twisted to comply—collapsed over the car seat, face buried in his arms, ass up, knees spread, hole still slick and gaping just slightly.

James froze. Stared. Groaned.

“Holy fuck,” he growled. “Look at you.”

He reached out and grabbed a handful of ass, squeezing, spreading, groping, his other hand stroking over Reg’s lower back like he couldn’t decide whether to pet or ravage. The sight had broken something loose in him—some animal ache that slammed through his ribs and down his spine.

Reg pushed back with a little whine, arching his back, presenting himself like instinct, like he needed James to fill him now.

“Yeah? That eager, baby?” James rasped, squeezing again, then slapping his cheek just hard enough to leave a print. “You want me to fuck you like this? Bent over, helpless, all stretched out and begging?”

Regulus nodded frantically. “Yesyesyes—Jamie—please—”

James reached down, stroked his cock through his jeans once, twice, groaned out loud, then leaned over Regulus’s back, breath ghosting his ear.

“Say it again,” he hissed. “Say you’re mine.”

Regulus was crying now.

Not soft, not pretty—wrecked. Eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, mouth parted in a constant stream of broken sobs and gasping whimpers. “Nnh—hhuh—James—ahhh—please—”

His thighs were trembling where he held himself open, face smashed into the seat, hands spreading his own cheeks apart like James had told him. Exposed. Displayed. So raw and shame-drenched it was obscene.

James sat back for a moment, one hand lazily stroking his cock, slow and wet, spit-slicked and flushed dark. His other hand palmed Regulus’s thigh, gripping tight just to feel the tremble.

“Fuuuck, look at you,” James breathed, voice hoarse with awe and lust and that possessive, greedy heat that had never let up once since the moment he got Reg alone. “Cryin’ for it already and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

Reg hiccupped, squealed—“Hhhuuh—! I-I’m ready, I’m ready, please—please James, please—”

James chuckled, low and sharp. That same wicked smirk on his face as he gave himself another long stroke, precum spilling over his knuckles.

“You look so fucking sweet like this,” he said, like he was tasting every word. “All spread out for me. Holding yourself open like a good little whore. Fuck, I could come just watching you beg.”

Reg’s arms were shaking. His fingers clenched tighter on his own ass, holding himself so wide he was already twitching. “Jaaames—please, want it, wanna be your whore, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good for you—just, just fuck me, please—”

“Mmm. That’s my boy,” James murmured, leaning in, cock pressed heavy to Reg’s hole. “Say it again. Say you’re my little whore.”

Reg sobbed. “I-I’m your whore—hahhnn!—I’m yours, Jamie, all yours, just wanna be good, want you to use me—”

James growled. Thrust forward in one brutal snap of his hips, and Regulus screamed.

“AAAHH—! F-FUCK—!”

No warning. No gentle easing in. Just James—slamming home, driving every inch of his cock inside in one violent, hungry motion like he couldn’t wait another second.

Reg’s back arched off the seat, whole body convulsing as the air punched out of him in a series of helpless little “uh—uh—uh—uh!” noises with every savage thrust. He clung to the leather with white knuckles, gasping, moaning, writhing.

James didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow down.

Feral. Possessed. He grabbed Reg’s hips, yanked him back, started slamming into him with wet, punishing smacks that echoed off the car windows like gunshots.

“Fuck yeah,” James groaned, head dropping back, curls sticking to his forehead with sweat. “Listen to those sounds—God, you’re so fucking loud—so tight—I knew it’d be like this, knew you’d be this perfect—”

Regulus could barely breathe. His cries were all high and broken and wet, spit stringing from his lips, body jerking with every brutal snap of James’s hips. He squealed again when James gripped his hair and yanked his head back.

“Look at you,” James purred against his ear. “So desperate. You were made for this. I should’ve taken you ages ago.”

“P-Please—! Oh—nnnhhh—please, Jamie, please—”

James cooed. Mocked him.

“Aww, poor baby. You waited so long for this, didn’t you? Dreamed about it? Lying in your bed with those pretty little toys, whispering my name like a dirty secret…”

Reg whimpered, shaking violently, his voice reduced to garbled cries and squeaks every time James bottomed out.

“Guess what, sweetheart?” James rasped, slowing just a little—just enough to grind deep. “You’re not going home tonight.”

“W-what—?” Reg sobbed, blinking hard, eyes wide and wet.

James grabbed his hips again, slammed in harder. “You heard me. You’re mine now. I’m taking you.”

“J-James—!”

“Fuck Sirius,” James snarled. “Fuck what he thinks. I don’t give a shit. He can choke on it. You think I haven’t thought about this? You think I didn’t plan this?”

Reg whimpered—“Wh-what do you mean—?”

James leaned down again, chest flush to Reg’s back now, breath hot in his ear. “I’ve seen your room, baby. I know what you like. Know what you wear. What you smell like. How you sleep. I’ve been in your bed, jerked off in your fucking shower. You’re already mine.”

Reg’s mouth dropped open. No words came—just a soft, punched-out “aaah—!” as James pounded into him even harder, the car rocking with every thrust.

“I’m gonna steal you,” James growled. “Move you in with me. You’ll sleep in my bed. Walk around in those little panties with your name on the waistband. I’ll feed you. Dress you. Fuck you stupid every night.”

“J-Ja—Jamie—!” Reg gasped, overwhelmed, wrecked, melting.

“I’ll take care of you,” James whispered. “No more hiding. No more waiting. I’ll buy you everything you need—plugs, toys, dresses, whatever you want. You’ll sit in my lap like a good boy and let me fuck you in front of anyone who tries to take you from me.”

Reg sobbed.

He was clenching around James’s cock like a vice, fluttering and squeezing and begging without even forming words now. Just breathy, desperate little wails of “uhh—ahhh—mmhh—!”

“Yeah,” James growled. “That’s right. Cry for me, baby. Let everyone hear who fucks you.”

And Regulus did.

He begged.

He cried.

And he took it all.

Rephrased and activated. Continuing the scene from that moment of full possession—James unrelenting, Regulus stunned, overwhelmed, falling apart beneath the weight of revelation and control—:

James was fucking relentless now.

Every thrust snapped through Regulus like a current, cock buried to the hilt, skin slapping slick and obscene, each slap louder than the last. The car reeked of sweat, sex, leather, and something darker—obsession thick in the air, heavy enough to choke on. James’s voice, raw and wrecked with want, didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. He was drunk on it—on the way Regulus whimpered and writhed beneath him, moaning into the seat like it could save him.

“You think this is new?” James snarled, thrusting in deep, making Reg’s toes curl where his legs were spread wide. “You think this started with your little crush? Baby—fuck—that’s cute.”

Reg whimpered—“Hnnnh—J-James—stop, I—I can’t—”

James grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back, snarling into his ear. “Nah. You’re gonna listen now. Gonna learn exactly how fucking mine you’ve always been.”

Reg whimpered again, breath catching.

James moaned—guttural, like it tore out from somewhere deep—and ground his hips down, holding deep, stretching Reg wide around his cock. He bit into the curve of Regulus’s shoulder, then whispered against his skin.

“I’ve been into you longer than you’ve been into me,” he groaned, fucking slow and filthy now, grinding every inch inside like he wanted to brand him from the inside out. “You think your crush just happened?”

Regulus shook, mouth open, pupils blown. His eyes were glassy, dazed.

“I made it happen, sweetheart.”

James chuckled. Dark. Sinister. Possessive. He rolled his hips again and Reg sobbed under him, jolting forward with a soft, shocked squeal.

“Ohhh, you sweet dumb thing,” James cooed mockingly. “You think it was your idea? Nah, baby. I planted that seed a long time ago. Years. You were what—seven? When we met?” He groaned, fucked in harder. “You were so fucking cute. Already perfect. But I made sure you’d grow up just the way I wanted.”

Regulus’s whole body went stiff. “W-what—?”

James didn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t.

“I used to talk about my favorite bands around you,” he gasped, thrusting harder now, punching soft cries out of Regulus with every snap of his hips. “Made sure you’d start listening to them too. I left my clothes at your place on purpose. T-shirts. Hoodies. I watched you steal them.” He moaned, dragging his teeth over Reg’s ear. “Fuck, I loved it.”

Regulus was shaking his head now, eyes wide. “N-No, that’s—ahhh—Jamie—”

“I showed up shirtless around the house every chance I got,” James growled, voice turning wild. “Made sure you’d see me coming out of the shower. Brushed against you ‘by accident’ on the couch. Spent years being sweet, just enough to keep you close. Watching you grow up into this perfect, fuckable little tease.”

He grunted, pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in so hard the car rocked. Reg cried out, back arching as his thighs trembled.

“You think it’s coincidence you like lace panties?” James bit out. “Think again. I complimented that one random model in that ad when you were twelve—you remember that? Told you how hot she looked in that red satin set. Your cheeks went pink. You started doodling lingerie in the margins of your school notebooks after that.”

Reg whimpered into the seat, incoherent. James grinned like a predator.

“I knew you would. I counted on it.”

Another brutal thrust. Reg jerked forward, then slammed back onto him like gravity had a vendetta.

“And those toys?” James hissed. “Left a receipt where I knew you’d find it. ‘Accidentally’ let you see something on my phone once. Thought you were being so sneaky, ordering your own. But I was fucking watching.”

He thrust again, harder. Reg screamed—“AAAHH—!”

“You dressed like this for me. You think you’re just into this? That it just happened? I made you. I shaped you. Made you perfect.”

James grabbed his hips again, started slamming into him in hard, punishing thrusts. “Every kink you’ve got—I left it for you. Fed it to you. Panties, choking, being called a good boy, being called a slut—mine, all mine.”

Regulus tried to crawl forward—tried to hide, maybe—but James hauled him back.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled. “We’re not going back.”

Regulus froze. “Wh-what—?”

James’s grin twisted. “You heard me. After this? We’re gone. I’ve got a place. Abroad. Private. Gorgeous. No one’ll ever find us.”

Reg whimpered—high and broken. “No—James—wait—Sirius—he’ll—he’ll be looking for me—”

“Oh, baby,” James moaned, tongue dragging up Reg’s spine. “You’re not gonna need your brother anymore.”

He leaned down. Voice right in his ear. “I’ll be your big brother now.”

Regulus whimpered—shocked and teary—his breath catching like he’d just been slapped. “N-No, I—I want Sirius—!”

James cooed, slow and mocking, hips still grinding into him. “Aww. That’s cute. But no, sweetheart. From now on, I’m the one taking care of you. I’m the one you cry to. You call me for everything.”

He bit his earlobe—hard—and growled.

“Say it,” James hissed. “Say I’m your big brother now.”

Regulus sobbed—soft and shivering—body fluttering around James’s cock like his hole knew it was over, like it was surrendering.

“I—I—James—”

“Say it.”

“I—y-you’re—” Reg hiccupped. “You’re my big brother—!”

James groaned. Full-body, chest-heaving, soul-cracking groan, and started fucking into him even harder.

“That’s right,” he snarled, voice snapping with glee. “That’s fucking right.”

He leaned in again, dragging a hand up Reg’s spine, then into his hair. “Or maybe,” he murmured darkly, “you like Daddy better?”

Regulus gasped—squealed—“J-James!”

James laughed. Rutted into him. “Oh, you do, don’t you? Fuck, you’re so easy. So fucking cute. My perfect little slut.”

“Please—ahh—Jamie—fuck—” Regulus was falling apart—he didn’t know this. Didn’t know any of it.

But James did.

James knew everything.

And now? James had him.

He wasn’t letting go.

Regulus was crying now.

It wasn’t soft, pretty crying—the kind James could stroke his ego to, all gasping lips and shivering blush. No, this was real. Raw. Red-eyed and snotty, voice cracking like glass under a boot, hands curled into fists on the seat as his whole body trembled from overload. His ass was slick and gaping, still clenching weakly around nothing, leaking everything James had left inside him.

“I—I wanna go home,” Reg sobbed, broken and high-pitched, voice catching like a hiccup on every syllable. “W-wanna go home—I want—Sirius, I want Sirius—”

James’s body tensed. His jaw twitched.

He was still buried inside Regulus, breath heaving, sweat dripping from his chest down onto Reg’s ruined back. His hands were braced on either side of the boy’s spine, holding himself up like he was resisting the urge to slam him back down and fuck him until he couldn’t say another word.

Instead, James groaned. Loud. Aggressive. One long, feral “FFFFFUCK—” that left his chest hollow and his cock twitching deep inside Regulus’s slick, ruined hole.

Then he came.

Hard.

With a groan that melted into a snarl, James’s hips snapped forward and stilled, every muscle locking tight as heat flooded into Regulus in thick, pulsing waves. The boy whimpered beneath him, twitching, helpless, sobbing quietly through the overstimulation.

“Shhh—shhh, baby,” James whispered hoarsely, voice cracked and wrecked, leaning over him now, pressing slow, wet kisses to his spine. “Don’t cry. Daddy’s got you. Gonna make it all better, sweetheart.”

He pulled out slowly, groaning again at the sight of Reg’s hole still fluttering open, leaking his cum in long, sticky strings down between his thighs. Regulus whimpered and tried to crawl forward.

James didn’t let him.

He grabbed him by the hips and flipped him over like he weighed nothing, hauled him up onto his knees, chest to chest now, their mouths close enough to share breath. Reg’s eyes were red, cheeks wet, lips bitten raw.

James cupped his jaw.

“Kiss me,” he ordered softly.

Regulus shook his head, breath hitching. “I-I wanna go—”

James growled.

His fingers flexed tight around Reg’s jaw, pulling his face in close. “What did I say about that?” he hissed. “You don’t need him anymore. You’ve got me now.”

Regulus flinched. Whimpered.

James’s expression softened instantly, flipping from feral to tender like a switch. He cooed sweetly and leaned in to kiss Reg’s temple.

“Aww, baby—shhh, it’s okay. You’re just overwhelmed. You don’t mean that. I know what you really want.”

Reg didn’t answer—just let out a quiet, broken little sob and let James pull him into a kiss.

It started soft. Gentle. But James couldn’t stay gentle long. Not when he was still hard. Not when Regulus’s cock was pressed between their stomachs, twitching and dripping. James reached down without breaking the kiss, wrapped a hand around that flushed, leaking length, and started to stroke.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he whispered into his mouth. “Let me take care of it. Let me finish you, yeah? You’ve been such a good boy.”

Reg sobbed into his mouth, the sound half a moan, his hips rolling helplessly into James’s fist.

“There you go,” James cooed, voice saccharine. “Just like that. All soft and whiny. So pretty when you cry.”

Reg’s head dropped back. His thighs were trembling again, face flushed, hips jerking into James’s hand.

Then he started talking again.

“I—I d-didn’t know—about any of this,” he whispered. “Didn’t know you—I didn’t think you—I just wanted—I just wanted—Sirius, he’ll be looking for me—he—he’s gonna be so scared, he—”

James stopped.

His hand froze on Reg’s cock.

And then—he laughed. Low. Dangerous. Unamused.

“Oh my god,” he said, voice dripping with disgust. “Still with this shit?”

Reg flinched.

James shoved him back, not hard—just enough to knock the air out of him, make him land with a little oof against the seat.

“Fucking seriously?” James growled, standing over him now, breathing heavy. “You think he’s gonna find you? You think he’s even looking?”

“J-James, I—” Reg whimpered, wide-eyed.

“He’s not coming.” James’s voice was a snarl now. “You’re mine now. Mine. You understand? You don’t have a home. You are home.”

Regulus shut up. Immediately. His eyes went wide and scared and his mouth hung open in a soft, stunned little “oh.”

James watched him. Watched the panic melt into silence. Watched the fight drain out of his limbs.

Then he smiled.

“Ohhh, there you are,” he crooned, dropping down onto the seat beside Reg and petting his damp, tangled hair. “That’s better. All quiet. All obedient. You’re learning, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.”

Regulus whimpered. Weak. Barely there.

James leaned in and kissed his forehead.

Then reached down and started stroking his cock again—soft, slow, steady—like he was lulling him to sleep. “Just a little more, baby. Gotta finish what we started.”

Reg was already fading.

His breath hitched. His hips jerked once. Twice.

And then he came.

With a soft, cracked moan—“uhhhnnnn—!”—his body arched, back bowing off the seat, cum spilling hot and heavy between his thighs, splattering across his stomach and James’s hand. He twitched once more, then collapsed with a whimper.

James caught him. Held him.

And when Regulus passed out, boneless and flushed and fucked-out, James laid him gently across the seat, pulled his shirt from the floor, and draped it over him like a blanket.

He pressed one last kiss to his forehead.

Then stood.

Calm. Composed. Re-centered.

He grabbed his jeans, tugged them on, zipped up with a hiss as fabric caught over his still-sensitive cock. Slid into his jacket. Adjusted his curls in the mirror.

Then he climbed into the driver’s seat.

Eyes on the road.

Hands steady on the wheel.

The sun was setting. The world was quiet.

And in the back of the car was everything James had ever wanted—soft and asleep and his forever.

He smiled.

Time to get the bags.

Time to go to the airport.

Regulus laughed sharply, venomous and cool. “Don’t project your Hufflepuff mediocrity on me just because your best strategy is to look intimidating and hope someone cries.”

“I am intimidating.”

“You’re not even the scariest person on your team. That title belongs to your haircut.”

Pandora Rosier, watching from the Slytherin archway with Barty, Evan, and Dorcas, elbowed Barty hard. “Is he flirting?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Evan said, eyes wide. “That’s Regulus Flirt Mode™. The insults go up and the sleeves go higher.”

Dorcas crossed her arms. “We should be worried.”

“Definitely,” Barty replied. “Which is why we should not interfere and simply watch. For science.”

Meanwhile, above, Sirius grinned like a wolf.

“Now. Remus—spell, please.”

Remus sighed, took out his wand, muttered a charm, and handed it over like a loaded wand. “It’ll make the target sing their truest thoughts. For about a minute or two. They’ll sing and dance. No choice in the matter. You’ve got one shot, so don’t mess it up.”

“Relax,” Sirius said, already aiming. “I never miss.”

“You always miss,” Lily snapped. “You once hexed a broom and turned yourself into a sofa.”

“Shut up, Evans, I’m concentrating—”

With a flick of the wand and a whispered Veritalyrica, a bolt of sparkling gold shot down from the rooftop, curved slightly left because of Sirius’s terrible wrist flick, and—

“OH SHIT—”

It hit all four of them.

Regulus. Xavier. Keira. Remy.

There was a moment of perfect silence.

Then all four went blank-eyed, backs straightening, heads tilting slightly, lips parting like puppets yanked upright by invisible strings.

“What the f—”

Before Barty could finish, music exploded from the air itself, a driving pop beat thudding into existence like it’d always been there. A magical echo rolled through the courtyard.

And then—

Xavier stepped forward, eyes half-lidded, mouth curling into a grin like a challenge. His voice rang out like a damn Broadway villain.

“This show's a train, it's moving fast You and I weren't meant to last Voting for me just wasn't right So look out now, you're in my sights—”

He launched forward, grabbed Regulus by the arm, spun him in a theatrical twirl, and promptly threw him into the nearest rosebush.

Absolute chaos.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF—” Sirius was howling with laughter already.

“HE JUST YEETED HIM INTO A SHRUB,” James cackled.

Regulus popped up from the bush like an offended cat, one leaf stuck in his hair, eyes still glassy. His mouth opened—and then he began to sing.

“Mr. Fair now, suddenly I have to barf now, excuse me! Don't try to make me feel ashamed I know you would've done the same—”

He darted forward mid-line and tripped Xavier with a perfectly executed sweep of his foot. The Hufflepuff went crashing into the fountain behind them with an almighty splash.

“HE’S DROWNING HIM—” Dorcas screamed.

“No, he’s ballroom dancing him,” Pandora corrected with unholy delight. “It’s performance art.”

Xavier surfaced, spluttering. Regulus stood smug at the edge of the water, shaking his sleeves back dramatically.

Then both boys locked eyes again—and the song swelled.

Together:

“I'm gonna make it You can't stop me now, just you try Our fortune's waiting It's time for you to say, bye-bye-bye—”

They met in the middle of the courtyard like dancers in a final duel, hands snapping out to grab each other. Xavier’s hands gripped Regulus by the waist, spinning him effortlessly into a lift. Regulus kicked once midair out of spite. Neither of them broke eye contact.

“...they’re in love,” Alice said faintly.

“Hate,” Marlene corrected.

“Same thing,” Mary and Lily chorused.

Behind them, Remy staggered forward, still glassy-eyed but now singing earnestly with one hand to his heart.

“I never thought I'd get this far Let's face it, I'm no TV star But now I'm in the final three Unless we get caught in that tree!”

A branch crashed to the ground behind him.

Everyone screamed.

Keira flounced forward after him, flipping her braids over her shoulder and raising a fist like she was about to punch fate in the face.

“You're gonna make it They can't stop you now, let them try Our fortune's waiting And they can kiss it all bye-bye-bye—”

“Why is this kind of amazing?” Gideon asked, eyes wide.

“It’s—we were supposed to humiliate Regulus,” Fabian said blankly. “Not unlock Hogwarts: The Musical.”

Back to the front, Regulus and Xavier were once again face-to-face. Literally nose-to-nose. The height difference was stark—Regulus on tiptoe, Xavier tilting down just enough to loom.

They growled in unison:

“You are the worst, why must you torment me? It's all a game to you, but not to me—”

Xavier leaned in, voice dropping into the kind of growl that did things to most of the girls watching (and a few of the boys).

“Regulus.”

Regulus promptly shoved him backward into the fountain again.

“No notes,” Pandora whispered, starry-eyed. “Flawless execution.”

“You’re all insane,” Remus muttered. “Every single one of you.”

But even he was tapping his foot as the four voices merged one final time, rising, rising, rising—

All four:

“I'm gonna make it They can't stop me now, let them try Our fortune's waiting It's time for you to say, goodbye-bye-bye!”

The final note echoed through the stone courtyard, bouncing off arches and columns and skulls of the long-dead.

The spell broke with a soft, magical pop.

Regulus blinked, slowly.

Xavier was sitting in the fountain again, soaked and panting.

Remy bowed. Keira threw both arms up like she'd just won the Quidditch World Cup.

Silence.

Then—

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” Sirius howled from the rooftop.

Regulus turned slowly, eyes locking on the crowd above.

And smiled.

A long, slow, wicked smile.

“Oh, we’re so dead,” Peter whispered.

“Worth it,” James breathed.

“NO IT WASN’T!” Lily shrieked.

Barty clapped once, very slowly. “Bravo,” he called. “I can’t wait to find out how you explain this one to McGonagall.”

Xavier climbed out of the fountain, hair plastered to his face, still staring at Regulus.

Regulus glanced sideways at him.

“You owe me a new robe,” he said flatly.

“You threw me in a fountain,” Xavier said.

“You deserved it.”

“You tried to trip me mid-ballroom lift.”

“You still caught me.”

Xavier stepped closer. They were chest to chest again. Regulus, defiant, stayed on his toes.

“Next time,” Xavier said softly, “we’re doing a tango.”

Regulus didn’t flinch. “Next time, I’m pushing you off the Astronomy Tower.”

“I’ll catch you there, too.”

“SHUT UP,” shouted at least four people at once.

And just like that, the courtyard erupted into chaos again.

But this time, everyone was laughing.

The moment the spell broke, the courtyard didn’t return to normal.

It detonated.

Laughter, screams, whistles, frantic footsteps, people climbing down from the rooftops. Mary was howling. Fabian was halfway up a pillar just for a better view. Frank Longbottom had sat down on the flagstones like this was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed. And Lily? Lily was clutching her wand like she was about to hex someone for fun.

“I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING,” Marlene bellowed, racing up to Keira. “How long have you two been flirting like that?”

Keira, still glowing, gave her a lopsided grin. “I mean, I’ve thrown him off his broom five times and he keeps buying me coffee after. You tell me.”

Remy was perched next to her on the fountain, still brushing petals out of his robes. “We’re just vibing,” he said cheerfully. “Mostly. Except for the screaming tree incident.”

“What was that?” Alice asked, leaning in. “You actually sang—”

“It was magical coercion, actually,” Remy replied, adjusting his collar. “Couldn’t stop myself. Not that I’d want to, that was kind of lit. I rhymed tree with TV star. Do you know how long I’ve waited to rhyme tree with something?”

“Why is he unbothered?” Sirius asked from behind the crowd.

“Because he's Remy,” Keira and Pandora said in sync.

But the centre of gravity—the pulsing, thunderous, unholy core of the courtyard—was not chill. It was twenty feet away, where Regulus Black and Xavier Cortez were locked in the most chaotic, violent, sensual, absolutely oblivious fight the school had ever seen.

Regulus was screaming.

Xavier was sopping.

They had no idea anyone else existed.

“LET GO OF ME, YOU BRUTISH OAF!” Regulus shrieked, slapping at Xavier’s chest.

“You fucking started it, you tripped me—”

“I was performing! It’s called theatrical sabotage!”

“IT’S CALLED ATTEMPTED MURDER—”

“YOU YEETED ME INTO A SHRUB—”

Xavier lunged like he was about to grab Regulus again—probably to toss him back in the fountain—but Regulus shrieked “NO NO NO DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE—” and latched on like a furious, swearing koala. Arms wrapped around Xavier’s neck, legs wrapped around his waist.

The Hufflepuff’s momentum collapsed like a Jenga tower.

They toppled.

They rolled.

Across the flagstones.

Over an abandoned bag.

Straight through someone’s half-eaten sandwich.

Sirius was crying with laughter. “He’s like—he’s like an angry scarf! Did you see him just— cling?!”

“Wait—wait—they’re stopping—they’ve stopped rolling—” Remus said.

There was a collective gasp.

Regulus was straddling Xavier.

Right in the lap.

Right on the dick.

Covered in twigs. Leaves in his hair. Eyes wild.

Xavier was soaked, shirt clinging to him like a second skin, muscles flexing as he sat upright beneath the smaller boy.

Neither of them noticed.

They were still screaming.

Xavier gripped Regulus by the hips like he was trying to ground himself, fingers digging into the curve of his waist with an intensity that made half the courtyard combust. His other hand was on Regulus’s thigh, tight, possessive, gripping like he needed leverage before launching him into the next goddamn dimension.

Regulus had one hand in Xavier’s soaked hair, the other fisted in his collar. He was biting his shoulder, yelling against wet fabric.

“LET GO OF ME, YOU DROWNING RAT—”

“GET OFF ME, YOU SHRIEKY BRANCH GREMLIN—”

“YOU SMELL LIKE A SWAMP!”

“YOU SMELL LIKE DEATH AND CANDLE WAX—”

“IS HE BITING HIM?!” Peter squeaked.

“He’s biting his shoulder,” Frank confirmed, reverent.

“He’s grinding into his thighs,” Gideon gasped.

“THEY DON’T KNOW,” Pandora whispered, eyes huge. “THEY DON’T KNOW THEY’RE INTO EACH OTHER.”

“...Do we tell them?” Evan asked.

“No,” Barty said firmly. “This is better than the Quidditch Final.”

“OH SHUT UP—!” Xavier roared, flinging a hand into the air—and then froze when Regulus leaned back, still sitting in his lap, eyes blazing.

“You’re not even saying anything useful,” Regulus snapped.

“I am, you—insufferable baby snake!”

“THAT’S NOT A REAL INSULT—”

“¡CÓMO ME VUELVES LOCO, MALDITA SEA!” Xavier suddenly screamed in Spanish, voice like thunder.

Regulus blinked. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“¡TÚ Y TUS MALDITAS HOJAS, TE VOY A LANZAR AL SOL—”

“I DON’T SPEAK SPANISH, YOU MORONIC MAN TOWER!”

“Then learn it, you—!”

“SI BALJAGIYA MWOGOLA, NEON CHOEGONEUN ANIJI!” Regulus screamed right back in furious, rapid-fire Korean.

Everyone froze.

“What language was that?” Xavier barked.

“KOREAN, YOU LITERAL MEAT SLAB!”

“WELL I DON’T SPEAK KOREAN—”

“GOOD! FEEL THE RAGE OF MY ANCESTORS!”

“STOP YELLING FOREIGN SEXUAL TENSION!” Sirius shouted from the side.

But it was too late.

They were snarling and growling and throwing insults again. Regulus slapped Xavier’s hand off his thigh only to grip his jaw a second later and shake it like an angry kitten. Xavier grabbed Reg’s ass in retaliation. Reg bit his knuckle. Xavier cursed in three languages. Someone fainted.

“Okay,” Lily panted, clutching her chest. “Okay. This is—we’ve crossed some kind of line.”

“I’m not even sure this is still a fight,” Alice breathed.

“They’re going to kiss or kill each other,” Marlene whispered.

“Or both,” Mary sighed dreamily.

Pandora, wide-eyed and wild-haired, clutched Dorcas’s hand. “Mark my words. They're going to have the most toxic, insane, rivalry-turned-situationship in the history of this godforsaken castle.”

“Already do,” Barty muttered. “We just didn’t have a musical number to prove it before.”

A new scream cut through the madness.

Regulus had Xavier by the hair. Xavier had Regulus by the waist.

They were locked, not kissing, but close enough that every single spectator was gripping the edge of reality itself.

Then Xavier screamed again in Spanish.

Regulus responded with, “nae chimmag-eul geolliji ma!”

“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?” Xavier shouted.

“IT MEANS DON'T TOUCH MY SKIRT, YOU PRICK!”

“You’re not wearing a skirt!”

“IT’S A METAPHOR!”

“I HATE YOU—!”

“I HOPE YOU DROWN IN THE FOUNTAIN YOU STUPID BEAUTIFUL HIPPOGRIFF—!”

And somewhere above it all, Sirius Black was shrieking.

“THIS IS THE BEST PRANK I HAVE EVER DONE!”

“You didn’t mean to do this,” Remus said, exasperated.

“NO,” Sirius cried, tears streaming. “BUT IT’S ART.”

The courtyard was still screaming.

Regulus and Xavier were still entangled.

And Hogwarts, for once, had truly peaked.

The courtyard was a screaming arena of chaos. Spectators were climbing onto ledges and benches, clinging to each other like they were watching the world’s most unhinged, homoerotic Quidditch match—half of them shrieking, the other half speechless. Someone was taking bets. Someone else was sketching. Pandora had conjured popcorn.

In the middle of it all: Xavier Cortez and Regulus Black. Still fighting. Still feral. Still entirely unaware that their rivalry had turned into a full-blown public meltdown of yearning.

“GET OFF ME—” Regulus roared, still locked around Xavier like a banshee in designer boots. “I swear to fucking Merlin, I’ll hex your damn kneecaps off—”

“YOU STARTED THIS—”

“I WAS SABOTAGING YOU THEATRICALLY!”

“YOU BITE ME EVERY TIME!”

“I’LL DO IT AGAIN!”

At that moment, Fabian—curious, brave, an absolute dumbass—took it upon himself to grab Regulus by the waist in an attempt to pull him off Xavier.

He never stood a chance.

The instant his hand made contact, Xavier’s head snapped up.

Eyes dark. Mouth twisted. Jaw clenched.

“¡NO TOQUES!” Xavier bellowed, voice thunderous and dangerous. “NO ONE TOUCHES HIM!”

The crowd shrank back as if he’d thrown a curse.

Fabian stumbled away, hands up. “Mate—I wasn’t—I was just—”

“HE’S MINE!” Xavier screamed, grabbing Regulus by the hips and rolling. In one violent, possessive move, he pinned Regulus flat to the stone. “Mine—”

“GET OFF ME—!”

But Regulus wasn’t going anywhere. Not with Xavier’s large hands gripping his thighs, holding him down tight, spreading him wide, pulling him closer. Reg’s arse was lifted off the ground, thighs caged around Xavier’s waist, hips pressed right to the Hufflepuff’s abs, their faces barely inches apart. Their breathing was ragged. Sweat and rain and fountain water slicked between them.

“OH MY GOD,” Lily shrieked, “THEY’RE GONNA FUCK—”

“They’re gonna kill each other!” Mary yelled, climbing onto Alice’s shoulders.

“Both!” Marlene hollered. “They’re gonna fuck and then duel and then fuck again!”

Xavier’s breath was heaving now, chest slamming against Regulus’s. His fingers tightened around Regulus’s thighs like he owned them. Like he had every intention of making sure everyone else in the castle knew they weren’t for anyone else.

Regulus scratched at Xavier’s jaw, snarling. “You’re the most insufferable, arrogant, feral brute—”

Xavier growled back, grabbing Regulus’s jaw and shaking it, just slightly. Just enough.

“I hate how hot you are,” Xavier snapped. “Your stupid face. Your fucking voice. That mouth. Your fucking—attitude. Your body—mierda, tu maldita cintura, esos ojos. You drive me insane.”

Regulus blinked, stunned for all of one second.

Then he screamed back, “YOU THINK I DON’T NOTICE THE WAY YOU WALK INTO A ROOM LIKE A WAR?! You’re so tall and smug and golden and your arms are ridiculous and you smell like fucking cedar and every time you smirk I want to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower!”

Xavier froze.

Something behind his eyes shifted. Snapped.

Realisation hit like a bludger to the chest.

“Oh,” he said, low and hoarse. “Oh.”

Regulus didn’t notice. “AND YOUR VOICE—your fucking voice, every time you speak in Spanish I want to—wait. Why are you smirking like that? Stop that. What are you—what are you doing—”

Xavier leaned in, all calm now. A storm eye.

His lips ghosted across Regulus’s cheek, to his ear, his voice soft and syrup-slick:

“Mi bombón,” he purred. “Mi vida. Mi tormenta. Mi problema favorito.”

Regulus went still. Blinking.

“What the fuck does any of that mean—”

Xavier didn’t answer.

He kissed him.

Hard.

Regulus squealed.

A high, shocked noise of outrage and confusion and meltdown, muffled by the Hufflepuff’s mouth.

Then Xavier groaned, deep in his chest, and deepened the kiss, pulling Regulus close by the waist, rolling his hips just slightly to trap him tight. Regulus whimpered—actually fucking whimpered—and clung harder, nails digging into Xavier’s soaked shirt.

And then—

Then they were full-on making out.

Tongues. Moans. Gasped breaths. Regulus squeaking into Xavier’s mouth, whimpering little high noises every time Xavier’s fingers flexed on his thighs, every time Xavier’s hand dipped lower to cup his ass and pull him flush. Their chests were pressed, bodies crushed together in a perfect collision of rage and want. Xavier was making feral, low groans—little rumbles of satisfaction and desperate hunger—growling when Regulus bit back, groaning when Regulus squirmed.

“Good,” Xavier breathed against his lips. “Just like that. Dios, you’re perfect—”

Regulus whined.

Actually whined.

Clutching at his neck now, eyes fluttering shut, melting into every kiss like his brain had finally stopped working and his instincts had taken over. One hand still gripping Xavier’s hair like he was trying to anchor himself, the other clutching his collar like it might save him.

Around them, the courtyard exploded.

Screams. Wailing. Hysterical sobbing.

Pandora passed out.

Sirius was on the floor, weeping.

“MY BROTHER’S A BOTTOM!” he wailed.

Fabian and Gideon were trying to climb the fountain. Lily was clinging to James and hyperventilating. Evan had conjured a chair and was fanning himself. Dorcas was filming. Frank looked like he’d seen the divine.

And at the centre of it all, Regulus Black and Xavier Cortez were devouring each other like they’d gone to war and decided this was better.

Because maybe it was.

Xavier’s hands didn’t leave Regulus for a second. Not after that first devastating kiss. Not after Regulus had whimpered into his mouth and arched against him, thighs tightening, fingers trembling, breath catching. Xavier groaned—deep, low, vibrating in his chest like a rolling avalanche—like the moment he’d finally tasted Regulus, something ancient and territorial had clicked inside him. No logic. No restraint.

Just mine.

Regulus was wrecked already.

Panting, flushed, lips wet and kiss-swollen, lashes fluttering like they couldn’t hold up under the weight of the way Xavier stared at him. And Xavier? Xavier had gone full animal. His hands were gripping Regulus like he didn’t trust the world not to snatch him away. One hand fisted in the small of his back, pulling him in so tight their hearts were slamming together. The other hand was under his thigh, lifting—cupping—feeling how soft and full he was under the pressure, and fuck if that didn’t make his brain short out again.

“Fuck, Reg,” Xavier growled, dragging his mouth over Regulus’s jaw, his temple, cooing sweet and obscene like his tongue couldn’t decide if it wanted to worship or devour. “Keep makin’ those sounds for me, bebito. So fuckin’ pretty, mmn—every time I touch you, you whine, you melt.”

“A-ahhh… shut up—” Regulus gasped, face buried against Xavier’s neck. “You’re so annoying—”

“And you’re mine,” Xavier snarled, biting his shoulder—not hard, but possessive, and Regulus gasped, twisting, trembling. “No more people touchin’ you, got it? No more flirtin’, no more of those fuckin’ half-blood snakes tryin’ to get a taste. I get it now. I hated seein’ it ‘cause they were lookin’ at what’s mine.”

He cupped Regulus harder—rolled his hips slow. Ground their bodies together like he wanted to mold them as one.

Regulus squealed.

It was high and sharp and real—his whole body jolted—and Xavier froze.

The bulge he expected to feel—

Wasn’t there.

He blinked. Then looked down.

Then groaned.

Loud. Stunned. Filthy.

“…Oh fuck—” he breathed, eyes wide. “You don’t have a cock—fuck, Regulus—”

Regulus was dying. Face bright red, breath hitching hard, trying to hide his face in Xavier’s collar.

“Don’t—shut up, don’t—fuckin’ talk about it—!”

Xavier’s brain short-circuited all over again.

Boypussy. A tight, slick, hot fuckable mess hiding between those pale thighs.

His.

His hands flew to Regulus’s hips, spreading them, gripping with enough force to bruise.

“Ohh, puta madre—you’re a boy with a pussy,” Xavier groaned, eyes blown wide with heat. “Fuck, I’m gonna lose my mind—that’s so hot—oh my God—you’re so fuckin’ soft down there—so cute—fuckin’ mine—”

And Regulus was whining. Melting. His thighs trembled, lips parted, breath escaping in needy little pants.

And then—

Then he started talking.

Not in English.

In fast, choked, breathless Korean.

“M-mollaseo, mollaseo, Xavi-ah… hhh—jebal, jebal, ga-jyeo-jwo, jebal, an-boin-deut, an-deul-lyeo… ssibal, I can’t—ssibal, ssibal, ssibal… gajang joeun hyeong-i doego sipeo… jinja, Xavi-ah, nae appa dwen geotcheoreom haejwo…”

Sirius—across the courtyard—froze.

Like he’d been struck by lightning.

Eyes wide. Mouth open.

“...oh my fucking God.”

Regulus kept going, still breathy and rapid-fire, whining helplessly against Xavier’s throat, clinging tight.

“Neoui gyeot-e isgo sipeo… ireon namboda deo jalhal su isseo, jebal… jinjja… jebal, appa…”

Xavier blinked. His head jerked up. “What the fuck is he saying?”

Sirius looked like he was about to throw himself off a tower.

“Absolutely not.”

“Translate,” Xavier snarled. “Now.”

“I—” Sirius’s voice cracked. “I can’t—”

Xavier’s eyes flashed. “You can, Black.”

He took one step forward.

Sirius flinched. Looked down at his brother. Looked back at Xavier.

Then mumbled:

“He’s… whining about wanting you to… to take him inside. Away from everyone. To… to fuck him. And—oh Merlin—he’s calling you his appa.”

“What’s that mean?” Xavier growled.

Sirius looked like he wanted to die.

“It’s… it’s like…” He cringed. “It means Daddy.”

The courtyard screamed.

Sirius screamed. “I’M GONNA THROW UP.”

Xavier staggered.

“I—what the—he called me—” His voice dropped an octave. “Appa?”

“AND OPPA,” Sirius wailed. “That one means like—like big brother—but in the horny way!”

“REGULUS!” Xavier howled, brain frying.

Regulus was still cooing:

“Appa… jebal, appa… chajawa jwo… meoriga eolmana yeppeuji, appa… neoui, neoui, neoui, neoui… nae appa, Xavi-ah…”

Xavier was vibrating. His knees were buckling. He grabbed Regulus’s jaw—held it tight—and snarled:

“Say it again.”

Regulus, dazed and gone, bit his lip.

Whimpered:

“Appa…”

Xavier’s soul left his body.

“OH FUCK,” he roared, gripping Regulus so hard the smaller boy arched, mewling. “You’re gonna kill me—fuck—my pretty baby boy—my perfect little pussy boy—my good boy—say it again, say it again, fuck—”

“Appa,” Regulus moaned.

“GODDAMN IT—” Sirius screamed, collapsing behind a statue. “MAKE IT STOP—”

Xavier didn’t hear him.

Didn’t hear anything.

Just the soft, filthy moans in Korean, the trembling thighs, the dazed eyes, the sound of his name twisted into sweet, begging syllables.

“Xavi-ah… nae Xavi-ah… gajyeo-jwo, jebal…”

“Reg,” Xavier panted. “I’m gonna carry you inside—gonna ruin you—”

“Jebal, jebal…”

“Fuck yes, baby, I got you—”

The courtyard?

Gone. Collapsed into utter chaos. Screaming. Weeping. Several students fainted. Pandora hit the floor, clutching her heart. Mary shrieked. Gideon climbed a wall. Barty summoned popcorn. Lily screamed into a bag. James passed out. Dorcas was filming everything.

And Sirius Black?

Sobbing.

“My brother is calling that himbo Daddy in Korean,” he howled. “I’m going to Azkaban.”

But Xavier didn’t care.

All he saw was Regulus.

Spread beneath him. Flushed, ruined, panting, moaning in a language he didn’t understand—but one he was desperate to learn.

One moan at a time.

Regulus was done. Absolutely, devastatingly, teetering-on-the-verge-of-murder done. His thighs were trembling, his whole body soaked with sweat and rain and fountain mist, and Xavier—goddamn Xavier Cortez—was still just grinding. Still just kissing and touching and growling and feeling him up without actually doing anything.

“Mmnnh—hah—Xavi—Xavi, please,” Regulus whined, voice high and sticky-sweet, trembling against the bigger boy’s chest. His hips bucked up out of pure desperation, trying to meet every slow, tormenting roll of Xavier’s that never went far enough. Xavier’s hand was cupping his cunt right through his trousers now, massaging him slow and deep like he was trying to soothe instead of ruin.

Regulus sobbed. “You’re so—fucking annoying,” he hissed, cheeks flushed hot, eyes glistening with frustration. “You’re just teasing me—kissing me like you’re gonna fuck me stupid and then just—just grinding—I’m so hard for you, Xavier, I need it—”

But Xavier just grinned, kissed his jaw, and kept whispering praises like they were enough.

“You’re the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever had under me, bebito,” Xavier cooed against his skin. “So fuckin’ warm and soft down there—this pussy’s just beggin for me, ain’t it? So wet through these trousers already—”

“Haaah—shut up!” Regulus cried, slapping at his chest weakly. “I don’t care, stop talking, fuck me already!”

Xavier just chuckled. Kissed him harder. Squeezed his cunt again, dragging the heel of his palm up and over, pressing right where Reg shuddered the most. Regulus squealed—high and bitten-off and half-moan, head falling back.

“You like that, bebé? So sensitive already. Don’t even need me to pull these off, do you? I could make you come just like this—just rubbin’ your cute little clit through your trousers, fuckin’ you till you cry—”

Regulus had had it.

His face was burning, his body buzzing, his cunt throbbing. He was so slick he could feel it clinging to his pants, and still this absolute fucking idiot wasn’t giving him what he needed. If Xavier didn’t fuck him now, someone else would.

Regulus moved.

Slid one trembling hand down between their bodies—past his own stomach, past the soaked waistband of Xavier’s trousers—right to the bulge.

Xavier froze.

Regulus’s hand pressed firmly against it. Then rubbed.

“You gonna keep teasing me, big boy?” Regulus whispered, voice like sugar and threat, soaked in lust. He leaned in, dragging his lips across Xavier’s jaw, trembling, desperate, but forcing himself through it anyway. “Or are you gonna fuck your good boy already?”

Xavier groaned, head snapping back. His hips jerked forward hard.

Regulus gasped at the contact—then smiled, cheek resting against Xavier’s as he whispered filth straight into his ear:

“You can go raw, y’know… I want it. Want you to fill me up… make a mess inside me, right here where everyone can see…” He nipped Xavier’s earlobe. “Unless you’re scared. You gonna let someone else take me instead?”

Xavier snarled, body vibrating with barely-restrained jealousy.

“I could ask—what’s his name,” Regulus whispered sweetly, trailing his fingers down Xavier’s length. “Callum Fairweather? Your stupid Hufflepuff rival? He’s been staring at me all term—bet he’d fuck me right here, right now…”

“Don’t.” Xavier’s voice was pure threat.

Regulus just batted his lashes and cooed.

“Maybe he’d be rougher, too. Maybe he’d listen—”

Xavier roared. Actually roared.

The next second, Regulus was airborne—scooped up like nothing, one strong arm under his thighs, the other gripping his back tight.

“You fuckin’—bitch, I’m gonna ruin you—”

“You better,” Regulus huffed, clinging tight to Xavier’s neck as they ran across the courtyard.

Absolute pandemonium exploded behind them.

Screams. Howling. Collapsing students. Sirius shrieked like he’d been stabbed. Pandora fainted again. Lily threw herself off a bench. Mary threw money.

“They’re—OH MY GOD—they’re actually running off to—” Fabian screamed.

Dorcas was filming. Evan was howling.

Frank? Frank was on his knees like he’d witnessed holy rebirth.

Xavier didn't stop. His face was flushed dark, his jaw tight, eyes glowing murderous gold as he sprinted toward the castle, cradling Regulus like a prize and growling pure filth into his neck.

“You want someone to fuck you? I’m the one. You think that little bitch Fairweather could handle this cunt? He’d cry tryin’. I’ll give it to you raw, baby. Deep. Until you forget anyone else exists. I’ll put it in and never fuckin’ pull out—”

“Fucking finally!” Regulus whined, squirming against his grip. “Took you long enough—”

“Gonna make you take all of it, bebito. Right now.”

And they vanished through the arch.

Into the castle.

Into sin.

Into fucking legend.

Xavier didn’t walk them into the castle—he stormed. Regulus clutched to his chest, bouncing with each furious step, breath catching every time Xavier snarled. The moment he spotted the abandoned Charms classroom, he shoved the door open with one hand and flung them both in like a wolf dragging prey into its den.

SLAM.

The door snapped shut with wandless force, the click of a locking charm echoing through the walls like a curse. Desks rattled. The old chandelier swayed.

And Xavier? Xavier spun.

Regulus yelped—just once—before his back slammed down across the nearest desk. He flopped flat, legs still hooked around Xavier’s waist, arms tight around his neck, but his eyes were wide and glittering—cheeks red, hair wild, chest heaving.

“Fucking brat,” Xavier hissed, one hand clamped around Regulus’s waist, the other fisting in his curls, dragging his head back. “You think you can mouth off to me? You think you can tease me with talk about Oliver fucking Fairweather like I wouldn’t lose my shit?”

“Y-You weren’t moving fast enough—hahhh—!” Regulus whined, trying to squirm. “You just kept—kept kissing me and talking—!”

“So now you’re giving me orders?” Xavier growled, pressing their bodies together, grinding slow and punishing against Reg’s soaked front, lips curled in a snarl. “You little bitch, I own you right now.”

“Nnh—nnnghh—Xavi—” Regulus arched under him, breath stuttering. “S-Sorry—”

“You’re not sorry,” Xavier sneered, grinding again, making the desk groan. “You’re dripping through your fucking trousers. You’re clenching for me every time I call you names. You don’t want sweet—you want wrecked. And that’s what you’re getting.”

Regulus let out a noise—high, ruined—his hands flying up to grab at Xavier’s shirt, yanking, clawing. His legs locked tighter around Xavier’s hips like he couldn’t stand even a second of space between them.

“I’ll do whatever I want,” Xavier growled, biting down on Regulus’s neck, hard enough to leave marks. “You can fucking wait. I’m gonna make you sob. I’m gonna make you beg. I’m gonna grind this desk into splinters with how hard I fuck you. You hear me?”

“Hnggh—hah—yes—yes, please, fuck, please—” Regulus sobbed, hips twitching, eyes rolled back. “M’good—m’being good—just want—need—fuck, need—”

Xavier smirked down at him, breath coming hard and hot against Regulus’s face. “Bet that useless fuck Fairweather couldn’t even get it up if he had you spread like this. All that golden-boy shit for nothing.”

“I hate him—nnnnh—never wanted him—!”

“Yeah?” Xavier sneered, reaching between them, gripping Regulus’s trousers at the crotch and palming hard, dragging his fingers down the soaked crease of his pussy, knuckles grinding in deep. “Then don’t fucking mention him while you’re this wet for me.”

“AH—fuck—fuckfuck, Xav—ahh—!” Reg’s voice cracked high, hands flying to grip the edges of the desk. “That’s—fuck, d-don’t stop—! Say it again—call me—hahhh—call me a bitch again—!”

“You’re my fucking bitch,” Xavier growled, pushing his face close, hot breath fanning over Regulus’s wet lips. “My little boypussy-slut. You want me to fuck you till you can’t think, huh?”

“Yes—fuck yes—raw—inside—please—!”

“Not yet,” Xavier growled again, grabbing Regulus’s throat—just tight enough to make the smaller boy gasp, tilt his head back, expose. “You said you wanted me? You said you could take it? Then fucking prove it.”

Regulus whimpered, thighs trembling, back arching off the desk.

“Beg.”

“Nnh—p-please, Xavier—please fuck me, please ruin me—want it so bad, need it, wanna feel you—inside—fuck me raw, wanna be your good boy, c’mon, Xavi, please—!”

Xavier groaned—pure animal noise—his hand flying down to unbuckle his trousers.

“You’ve got one fucking chance,” he spat, voice dark and shaking. “Call anyone else’s name again, I’ll fuck you in front of them just to prove it.”

Regulus moaned, eyes wide and glassy.

“I’m yours—I’m yours, I swear—wanna be yours, please—Xavi-ah, oppa, please—”

“Fuck,” Xavier snapped—and the rest was just heat.

Xavier practically ripped the uniform off him.

Piece by piece. Shiny green trim, polished silver buttons, the entire Slytherin Quidditch set creaking and whispering under his hands as he peeled it away. Regulus gasped, trembling as Xavier shoved his robes back off his shoulders, kissed his collarbone, then bit it.

The bindings across Reg’s chest were tight, smooth, layered flat—tape wound snug and efficient. Xavier’s hands stilled for a second when he saw it. A flicker of reverence burned through his jaw, his pulse, his groin.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmured, thumbing over the edges. “All this—just to be the boy you are. Look at you.”

Regulus whimpered. Shied a little. Xavier grabbed him tighter by the waist.

“Don’t hide. You’re gorgeous. My handsome boy.” He kissed over Reg’s neck. “My filthy, desperate, dripping boy.”

He got the trousers off next—tugged them slow, teasing, ignoring Reg’s soft “nnngh—c’monnn—” whining, dragging them down pale thighs inch by inch.

And then—

Then there were just the boxers.

Black cotton. Clinging. Wet.

Soaked through with need.

Xavier let out a sound—not a groan. More like an awed, hungry, low-snarl. His palm cupped the soft swell of Regulus’s cunt over the fabric, fingers digging, dragging up the wet outline. The way Regulus shuddered under him—legs twitching, breath shivering—drove the beast in Xavier into a frenzy.

But still—

He didn’t take them off right away.

Not until Reg was panting, eyes glassy, hips writhing up against his touch.

Then he finally hooked his fingers around the waistband. Pulled them slow.

Regulus’s whole body trembled.

When the boxers came off, Xavier didn’t throw them. Didn’t drop them to the floor.

He looked at them—wet, warm, drenched in Regulus’s arousal—then smirked and shoved them into his pocket.

Regulus gasped.

“You—Xavi—”

“Mine,” Xavier purred, leaning down. “All fucking mine. And I want a souvenir.”

He kissed Reg’s hip, then his belly. Trailed his tongue down. Kissed the slick skin just above his pussy, breathed deep and slow like he was tasting the scent.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby… ngh, this pretty little cunt’s been begging for me since the courtyard.” He kissed lower. “And now you finally got me all to yourself.”

Regulus moaned, bucked his hips up, reaching for Xavier’s shoulders, arms shaking as he gripped—clutched—clung.

“Please—Xavier—fucking do something—please—I need—you said—”

Xavier lifted his head. Grinned.

And went mean again.

“Shut up, bitch,” he growled, voice dark and syrup-thick, the words vicious. “You don’t tell me when. You don’t tell me how.”

“Ahh—fuck—Xavi—!”

“You’re mine. I’ll tease you all night if I want.” He dragged one long finger through Regulus’s folds, slow and feather-light, not giving enough pressure. “Maybe I’ll finger you first. Real slow. Just one. Then my tongue. Or maybe…” He smiled, licking his bottom lip, “maybe I’ll just eat you out for an hour while you cry about it.”

“F-Fuck—fuck, please—nnghh—please—”

Regulus was clinging to his arms now, grabbing at his biceps like they were lifelines, his fingers digging into muscle.

He was hiccuping now. Soft, panicked little sob-hiccups between whimpers.

“Xavi—Xavi please, m’so close already—I’ll be good, I promise—just wanna feel you, wanna come, wanna—please, just touch me for real, d-don’t tease—”

Xavier hummed.

“Should’ve thought of that before you brought up that fuckin’ Oliver.”

“I don’t want him!” Regulus cried, shaking his head. “Never—never wanted him—please—”

“You’re damn right you don’t,” Xavier snarled, pushing Reg’s thighs open wider. “You’re mine. I’ll fuck you better than he ever could in his sad little Hufflepuff wet dreams.”

And still—he just circled two fingers at the entrance. Barely dipped inside.

Not yet.

“Let’s see how many times I can make you finish before I give you what you’re begging for.” He leaned in—kissed Regulus’s thigh. “Let’s make you scream.”

Xavier kept his fucking word.

Five. Times.

He used every filthy, ruinous method he threatened, and then some—two fingers, tongue, knuckle-deep, tongue deeper, curled just right, thumb on Reg’s clit, voice in his ear calling him pretty little names and spitting filthy orders—and Regulus broke.

Every time.

By the third, he was shaking and slurring. By the fourth, he was hiccuping and drooling. By the fifth, he was gone.

Utterly, beautifully, destroyed.

Regulus Black—pristine, vicious, sharp-tongued heir of House Black—was a whimpering, twitching, glassy-eyed, blissed-out mess on a classroom desk. Legs splayed wide and trembling, his thighs slick and sticky, cunt so wet it gleamed in the candlelight. His pale chest was rising and falling in helpless, shallow gasps. Lips slack. Eyes unfocused. Cheeks blotchy red, tears still spilling freely from the corners.

His whole body was limp.

Gone.

And still, his trembling mouth kept moving. Whispering, babbling:

“Y-Yeah—uhuh—‘m good—so good—doin’ good f’you, Xavi—please—please again—can do more—please—’ll be good, so good—promise—”

Xavier was grinning. The kind of grin a man wears when he's utterly, obsessively satisfied.

He leaned down, kissed Regulus’s wet lips slow, licking the corner of his mouth where spit and tears had gathered, and cooed.

“There he is,” he whispered. “My good boy. My fuckin’ gorgeous little prince. Look at you—look what I did to you, baby—”

Regulus whimpered. Blinked hazily. His hips shifted weakly like they still didn’t know how to not beg for more.

Xavier kissed him again.

Then finally, finally—he stood straight. One hand still stroking along Reg’s thigh. The other reaching to his belt.

But he didn’t strip.

No, no—he left his shirt buttoned, sleeves rolled up, tie still on, trousers barely undone. Just pulled the waistband down far enough to free his cock—thick and flushed, already leaking, pulsing with the kind of deep, restrained need that had been building since the courtyard.

All while Regulus lay there—naked, sweat-slick, legs open—completely ruined.

Xavier looked down at him like he was divine.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You like this, huh? Me dressed. You bare. All mine. So pretty. So wrecked.”

Regulus whimpered. Nodded.

Xavier slid a hand under his thigh. Another to his hip.

And then—slow, careful—pressed in.

“Mmh—ahhh—f-fuck—” Regulus squealed, his body arching, arms snapping up to clutch Xavier’s shoulders. “X-Xavi—hahhh—so big—”

Xavier groaned—low, deep, broken—and held.

Just held him there, buried deep.

Then began to move.

Not rough. Not savage.

Slow. Intimate. Powerful. Loving.

Face-to-face. Holding Regulus tight—one arm around his waist, the other cradling his jaw like he was made of something priceless. Xavier moved like he wanted to carve himself into Reg’s body. Like he wanted to feel everything.

Every twitch. Every breath. Every flutter of pulse.

“Shh—shhh—m’right here, bebé,” he whispered, lips brushing Reg’s ear. “You’re doing so good, yeah? Taking it all. All mine now. You feel so fuckin’ good—so warm, so tight—fuck, this pussy was made for me—”

“Y-Yhhn—uhhn—yes—yesyesyes, Xavi—Xavi, I—love—ahhh—!”

“I know, baby.” Kissed his jaw. His nose. His lips. “I know. I’ve got you.”

Every deep, slow stroke sent a ripple through Regulus’s body—his thighs trembled, his back arched, his lips parted in gasping, breathless “hah—hah—hah—” whines.

Xavier kissed every sound off his lips.

“Gonna keep you like this, Reg,” he breathed. “Gonna fuck you slow until you can’t remember anyone’s name but mine. Gonna make you feel so loved you forget where you start and I end.”

Regulus moaned—soft and pleading and broken—tilting his head back, exposing his throat.

Xavier kissed that too.

And kept moving—slow, deep, steady—until the whole world faded. Until the only sound was slick heat and quiet whimpers, the creak of the desk and Xavier’s low voice whispering:

“You’re mine now, baby. My good boy. My everything.”

Regulus was singing now.

Not with words—just the raw, dizzy, unfiltered symphony of moans and gasps, hiccups and whines, soft broken “ah—ahh—hahhn—mmhh—” sounds spilling from his lips like prayer. Every thrust knocked more air from his lungs, but he didn’t stop clinging, didn’t stop wrapping himself tighter around Xavier’s body like he could fuse them together if he just held on hard enough.

Xavier was barely hanging on himself.

Still thrusting slow, deep, keeping that intimate grind that made his head feel like it was full of syrup. He was cradling Regulus’s face, kissing him between every breathless groan, stroking his cheek, brushing his sweaty fringe aside just to whisper:

“That’s it, baby… mmnh—there you go—every little sound you make, it’s fuckin’ perfect. I’ve got you. I’m not stopping. Gonna stay right here, makin’ love to you ‘til you cry—”

Regulus was crying.

Tears dripping into his hairline, down his cheeks, catching at the corners of his mouth.

But then something shifted.

His thighs tensed, curled tight around Xavier’s hips. Then his heels locked hard, digging in like spurs.

Xavier growled as Regulus pulled him in.

“Ohh—you needy little slut,” he grinned, breath catching as he adjusted. “You want more, huh? That it? Can’t get enough even after five fucking orgasms?”

Regulus whined through a wet smile, flushed and ruined, pupils wide and glossy. He nodded, weak but insistent.

“W-Want—wanna get wrecked—wanna feel you—so deep—mnhh—harder, Xavi, please—”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

Xavier didn’t just change pace—he detonated it.

Every thrust slammed forward like a canon—hard, fast, deep, hitting Regulus’s sweet spot with brutal precision. The desk creaked, wood screaming beneath their rhythm. Regulus screamed louder.

“AHH—AHHH—XAVI—FUCK—!”

He was full-on sobbing now, drooling, hiccuping, a sticky trail of spit running from his lips as his voice broke over every syllable.

“F-Fuck! Gonna—m’gonna—ohmygodohmygod—don’t stop—!”

Xavier was grinning, fully feral, sweat-slicked and flushed. He bit down on Regulus’s shoulder—hard—left a purpling bruise instantly.

And didn’t stop.

Didn’t stop biting, sucking, marking.

The pristine pale skin of Reg’s throat was already blotted—angry red hickeys, swollen teeth marks, bruises layered over bruises like Xavier wanted to paint him purple from jaw to collarbone. He left a trail down Reg’s chest, his ribs, his hips.

His thighs had finger-shaped bruises, darkening fast where Xavier gripped him and used him.

His ass had spank marks, crimson handprints stinging where Xavier had smacked him in rhythm—leaving Reg squealing and cooing, arching and shaking.

And Xavier was losing it.

“Fucking—look at you,” he panted, dragging his hips back then slamming forward again. “Look at my baby—my fucking boy—marked up and twitching like a cumslut—fuck, I love you like this—”

Regulus was clawing at his back now.

Literally.

His nails raked down Xavier’s shoulders, digging hard enough to leave lines—angry red trenches that stung sweet and sharp and made Xavier groan with every new scratch.

“Fuck, Reg—do it again—deeper—mmnh yes, baby, leave your fuckin’ mark, I wanna feel it tomorrow—”

“C-Close—m’so close—Xavi—Xavi—inside—please, please—finish in me, wanna feel it—wanna get filled up—your cum—give it to me—!”

That broke him.

Xavier reached between them with a desperate groan, thumb sliding over Reg’s swollen clit, circling, pressing—just enough—

Regulus screamed.

His entire body locked. He arched, legs locking like a vice around Xavier’s waist, toes curling, eyes rolling back as he shattered.

“AHHH—XAVI—XAVI—!”

He squirted.

A hot, sudden splash of slick across their stomachs, over Xavier’s hand, soaking the desk, his thighs twitching as he gushed and sobbed through the hardest orgasm yet. His nails dug in, tearing down Xavier’s back as he whimpered and moaned.

Xavier lost it.

“FUUUCK—”

He slammed in once, twice, then came with a guttural growl, chest heaving, cock pulsing deep inside Reg’s pussy as he filled him—rope after rope, thick and hot and endless.

“Shhhhit—so tight—so good—take it—take it all—!”

Regulus was still twitching. Still gasping. Still wrung out and glowing.

Xavier collapsed forward, chest to chest, still buried inside, still throbbing.

Neither of them moved for a long time.

They just breathed.

Hot. Shaky. Shallow.

Clinging.

Xavier stroked Regulus’s cheek. Kissed his temple.

“My perfect fucking boy…” he whispered.

Regulus whined. Smiled.

Then melted.

They stayed like that, tangled and panting, for minutes—chests heaving, skin slick, pulses thudding in sync, every nerve still buzzing with aftershock. The desk creaked beneath them but didn’t dare collapse, the way Xavier was holding Regulus like a sacred object might be the only reason.

Eventually, Xavier shifted—slow, tender—and rolled them gently over, careful not to slip free from where he was still buried deep inside. He sat down, legs spread, and pulled Regulus into his lap, letting the smaller boy straddle him fully. Reg just flopped forward, chest to chest, limbs limp, face buried against Xavier’s throat, soft little “mmmnnnh…” whines bubbling from his lips like steam.

Totally fucked out. Gone. Obliterated.

Xavier wrapped both arms around him, still panting, one hand stroking up and down Regulus’s back while the other massaged slow circles into the bruises at his hips.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured into Reg’s temple. “The best boy. My sweet fuckin’ baby. Look at you, mmh—still squeezin’ me inside even now, shit…”

Regulus whimpered.

Every now and then, his hips gave a soft little twitch—instinctive and useless—just enough to make Xavier’s cock throb again inside him.

“Still needy?” Xavier teased, grinning, kissing behind his ear. “That dick got you stupid, huh?”

“Mmmmhhn,” Regulus mumbled. His entire face was flushed, eyes unfocused. “S’good. So good. Your dick is—mmm—fuck, I love it—’s perfect—”

Xavier cooed and kissed his neck again, all smug affection, fingers trailing up and down his spine.

“Yeah? That’s all it takes to turn you into a cockdrunk little mess?”

“Uh-huhhh…” Reg slurred, rubbing his cheek against Xavier’s shoulder, mouth open. “D-don’t wanna move. Wanna stay here… wanna be full…”

“You are full,” Xavier laughed, kissing his cheek. “Full of me. Just like you should be.”

“’M your boyfriend now,” Regulus added suddenly, still breathless.

Xavier blinked—then grinned hard.

“Oh? That official now?”

Regulus made a sleepy, satisfied mm-hmm sound, arms wrapped tight around Xavier’s shoulders.

Xavier smirked—and grabbed him.

One hand cupped the back of Regulus’s neck, firm but careful, fingers sliding up to tangle in sweat-damp curls. He guided Reg’s head up until those dazed silver eyes met his.

“Look at me,” Xavier murmured, voice all soft smoke and smirking dominance. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Regulus blinked. Then slowly smiled, flushed and cockdrunk and gleaming.

“M’yours,” he whispered. “Your boyfriend. All yours.”

Xavier made a sound—low and filthy and full of awe—then surged up and kissed him. Not once. Not twice.

Over and over and over again.

Quick, warm, desperate kisses. Cooing into them. Whispering praises.

“That’s my baby. My beautiful fuckin’ boy. You’re the best thing I’ve ever had, Reg. Holy shit. You’re mine. My boyfriend. My good fuckin’ boy. Merlin, I’m never lettin’ you go.”

Regulus just whimpered and babbled through it, lips sticky, tongue barely working, soft little slurs tumbling out:

“Love your dick. Love how it feels—so deep—love you—mmh—nghh—feels so good…”

Xavier was melting.

Until—

He felt it.

Bare skin.

At his back.

Reg’s fingers, sweet and lazy, were brushing along his spine.

Through holes.

Xavier froze.

Then slowly leaned back, looking over his shoulder.

Ripped fabric.

His shirt was shredded.

“Jesus fuck—bebé—” he laughed, wide-eyed. “Did you claw through my shirt?”

Regulus blinked once. Then giggled. Like a little devil.

“Eeheehee…” he cooed, kissing Xavier’s collarbone with a wet little mwah.

Xavier stared at him. Then grabbed Reg’s wrists gently and held his hands up between them.

“Lemme see those claws—fuck, baby—what the hell—how sharp are these—?”

Reg just smiled.

No words.

He leaned in.

Kissed Xavier’s neck.

Then whispered, “rawr.”

Xavier froze.

Then groaned loudly, head dropping back.

“Oh my fucking God, you’re a puppy—you’re my fucking puppy—”

Reg grinned.

“Woof,” he whispered, right in his ear.

Xavier thrust up without meaning to.

“Ahhh!” Reg squealed, hips jerking, the sudden friction lighting his nerves on fire all over again.

Xavier moaned.

“Shit—don’t do that, baby—‘less you want round seven.”

Regulus giggled again, face glowing.

“Maybe I do.”

Xavier’s cock twitched inside him.

And Reg wiggled. Just to feel it.

All Xavier could do was groan—and pray his legs wouldn’t give out.

Because Merlin help him—

He was already getting hard again.

Xavier couldn’t stop groaning—deep, rolling sounds from his chest like every new twitch of Regulus’s pussy around his cock dragged another wave of heat up through his spine. And Regulus?

Still straddling him, still full, still trembling.

Still making the cutest fucking sounds Xavier had ever heard.

Little gasps and high, breathless “mmph! nnnh! ahhn!” mewls that barely counted as words, twitchy little noises in the back of his throat every time Xavier kissed or rocked into him—sweet, soft, fucking puppy noises.

Xavier lost it.

“Oh fuck,” he laughed, flushed and panting, hips jerking slightly up into Reg again, just once. “You really are my puppy, huh?”

Regulus blinked up, all flushed and dopey and wrecked and nodded eagerly, still leaking around his cock. “W-Woof…”

Xavier groaned. Hard.

“Fuckin’—oh, that’s hot. So hot—say it again—bark for me, baby—"

“W-Woof!” Regulus barked again, wagging his hips in Xavier’s lap, tongue peeking out, making floppy little hands against Xavier’s chest like paws.

Xavier’s hips bucked again without thinking.

“Shit—shit—you’re actually—fuck, look at you,” he breathed, grabbing Reg’s ass with both hands now, squeezing, bouncing him gently once, then again, the slick wet slap of their bodies meeting echoing sharp and sinful across the empty room. “You’re riding me like a fuckin’ mutt in heat. Fuckin’ love this. My cute puppy boy—”

Regulus whined—high and needy—and started rocking his hips down harder. Thump. Squish. Slap.

Xavier froze for half a second—then grinned wide.

“Oh, you wanna ride now, huh? Puppy wanna bounce on his daddy’s cock?”

Regulus barked again. “Woof! W-Wanna—nnnh—ride—wanna please you—!”

“Then fuckin’ do it,” Xavier growled, licking across his lips. “C’mon. Hands off. Paws up. Bounce on it like a good dog.”

Regulus whimpered, grabbed air—made the little paw gesture again with curled wrists—then started to ride.

Hard.

“AH! AHHH—mmnhh! X-Xavi—Daddy—!”

Xavier held him steady, fingers digging bruises into his hips as he cooed with every bounce.

“Who’s a good boy, huh? Who’s my good little puppy—? Tail all waggin’, tongue out, fuckin’ barkin’ for cock—”

Regulus let his tongue loll out, still panting, still riding. “Ahhhn—hah—ahhh—r-ruff—!”

“Oh my God, baby—” Xavier moaned, eyes rolling back. “We gotta get you a fuckin’ collar. A leash. Teach you tricks, yeah? Crawl for daddy. Sit pretty. Roll over on your back, let me eat that fuckin’ pussy like I’m starving—”

Regulus squealed, hips jerking.

Xavier spanked him.

“Ahh—!”

“No talking,” Xavier growled. “Puppies don’t talk.”

Regulus whimpered, nodded fast, tongue still hanging out, whole body bouncing in Xavier’s lap.

“Good boy,” Xavier murmured, leaning forward to bite his shoulder again. “Ride daddy nice and deep. Just like that. You feel me all the way in your tummy?”

Regulus nodded, shaking, drooling a little now, too far gone to care.

“I bet you’d make a cute little Animagus, huh?” Xavier whispered, nipping at his ear. “Fuckin’ little shiba or something. Golden fluffy tail, floppy ears, that tight little puppy pussy leaking all over the floor. I could walk you to class like this, stuffed full, dripping down your thighs—fuck, I could breed you like this, my perfect mutt—”

Regulus barked. Loud. Squealed again as Xavier grunted and thrust up hard once.

“You love that, huh? Yeah you do, I see you—fuckin’ leaking again—shit, you’re gonna make me cum again already—”

Regulus just kept barking. Kept bouncing. Kept whining.

And Xavier just kept praising:

“That’s it, my good fuckin’ pup. Keep goin’. Take daddy’s cock. All of it. Fuckin’ own it.”

Regulus kept going—bouncing, whining, tongue out, ears metaphorically perked as he rode Xavier’s cock like the good little mutt he was. His thighs were quivering with each movement, muscles burning, but he didn’t stop. His whole body worked for it, hands curled in front of his chest like paws, ass clapping against Xavier’s lap with every filthy, wet descent. Slick dripped down between them, each bounce louder than the last.

“Ffffuck—fuck, baby, look at you—look at you,” Xavier panted, pupils blown wide, staring up like he’d never seen anything hotter in his life. “All this—your little ears, your tongue, those fuckin’ paws—nghhh—you're such a fuckin’ puppy right now.”

Regulus yipped again. Gave a happy little woof and wiggled in his lap, tongue lolling out as he kept moving—clenching down on Xavier's cock just right, squeezing like his puppy cunt was trained for this.

And Xavier—Xavier was spiraling. Brain gone somewhere deep, dark, obsessed.

“Bet you'd be so cute like that for real…” he murmured, voice gone to low, slurring moan-growls now, all syrup and filth. “If you transformed right now—little puppy body, baby size—you’d barely come up to my fuckin’ chest. And I could still make you feel everything. Just pick you up, turn you over, fuck you slow and deep while you whine in that sweet little dog voice—fuck—I’d ruin you, baby—”

Regulus gasped—a sharp, wet little squeak—and tried to say something.

Smack.

“Ah—!”

“No talking, puppy,” Xavier warned, breath hot against his throat, fingers gripping tight around Reg’s waist. “Unless you’ve got something very important to say.”

Regulus squirmed. Bounced once more. Moaned.

Then tried again, a little breathless, soft: “Wanna… tell you something…”

Xavier raised a brow, still moving his hips in slow, maddening circles inside him. “What is it, bebé?” he purred. “Daddy’s listening.”

Regulus leaned in—cheeks flushed, lips puffed, completely cockdrunk—and whispered against his ear:

“I am an Animagus.”

Xavier froze.

His whole body went stiff, breath catching like he’d just been stunned.

“You—you what?”

Regulus grinned. Giggled. Clung tighter, still rolling his hips lazily, grinding down on Xavier’s twitching cock. “Mhm.”

“You little—fuckin’ hell,” Xavier groaned, head snapping back. His hips bucked up hard, almost involuntarily. “You’re telling me this now?! You’re actually—fuck—baby—please—please—you gotta let me see—”

Regulus giggled again and nuzzled into Xavier’s neck, dragging his tongue lazily up the side of his jaw. “You’re really that into it?”

“I’m about to lose my fucking mind,” Xavier panted. “Just imagine—fuck, Reg—tiny fluffy body, soft little tail, your puppy pussy dripping while I hold you in my lap, fuck you slow, keep you there for hours—”

Regulus squealed, shivering on top of him.

“Can we try it?” Xavier begged, voice almost desperate now. “Please, baby, just for a second—I swear I won’t do anything you don’t like, I’ll be gentle—can I see you like that? Please? Wanna hold my little pup, wanna hear those noises in your real form—”

“Okay,” Regulus whispered, giggling, blushing even deeper. “Okay, Daddy.”

Xavier was shaking.

From head to toe.

Still buried inside, still gripping Reg like he might float away.

“You’re really gonna show me?”

Regulus nodded. “Just give me a minute.”

Xavier kissed him—hard. Deep. Then softer. Slower. And again. “You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he whispered. “You’re my fuckin’ dream.”

Regulus licked his cheek.

“Woof.”

Regulus giggled, his breath warm and sweet against Xavier’s cheek, then slowly started to lift himself off.

The second Xavier’s cock slipped free—slick and hot and twitching—he let out a long, broken groan, hips bucking weakly upward in reflex.

“Fffffuck—b-bebé—”

Regulus just giggled again, all mischief and delight, staying draped over Xavier’s lap, bare and glowing and absolutely soaked. His thighs twitched a little as he sat back—and then, before Xavier could say another word, he shifted.

Magic rushed over his skin like a wave—brilliant, soft, organic—and suddenly Xavier wasn’t holding a boy anymore.

He was holding the cutest, tiniest little dog he’d ever seen.

A black-furred terrier, soft curls springing out in every direction, delicate little frame with bright, intelligent eyes and dainty paws. Tiny as fuck. Xavier blinked once, then again, jaw dropping slowly as Regulus—his fucking boyfriend—let out a high, excited little yip!

“No fuckin’ way—”

The puppy hopped up on Xavier’s thighs, paws skittering slightly on his slick abs, curly ears flopping with every bounce. A happy little grrrr-ruff! noise came out as Reg did a proud little trot in a tight circle on his lap.

Xavier was breathless, grinning like an idiot and completely gone.

“Look at you,” he whispered, stunned. “You’re not what I expected, but holy fuck, baby—you’re adorable.”

Regulus—little black fluffball that he was—let out another yip, then spun, trotted to the edge of Xavier’s thigh—

And presented.

Tail hiked high, little hips wiggling.

And underneath? Soft pink puppy slit. Glimmering. Absolutely inviting.

Xavier died.

He actually groaned aloud, grabbing his own hair and staring like he’d been cursed.

“Oh my fucking god—”

One trembling hand reached down, fingertips brushing over the soft, sensitive little lips of Regulus’s transformed pussy. He was warm and wet and pulsing, even in this form, slick between the curls of fur.

Regulus yipped again, arching into the touch.

Xavier was gone.

Gone, dead, whimpering like he was the puppy now.

He leaned in, still petting, still touching, and cooed, breath shaking, voice low and full of wrecked awe:

“You’re the cutest, filthiest little mutt in the world. And you're mine.”

Xavier’s hand didn’t stop moving, fingers gliding slow and gentle through the warm, slick folds of Regulus’s tiny animagus form—careful, precise, reverent. His other hand smoothed down the terrier’s curly black back, stroking from neck to tail as he cooed with a voice thick and melting:

“Shhh, that’s it, baby… I got you. Gotta be gentle with my little pup, huh? So fuckin’ small… too tiny for daddy to just shove it in, yeah? Gotta prep you right… stretch you out nice and soft first…”

Regulus let out a whiny, fluttering yip, tiny body wiggling in his lap, his little tail wagging so hard it smacked against Xavier’s wrist. Every time Xavier’s fingers pushed just a bit deeper, Reg’s furry hips gave an eager little twitch, back legs trembling with excitement.

Xavier couldn’t stop petting him, couldn’t stop talking to him.

“Tail’s waggin’ like you’re ready, bebé… fuck, you're so cute I could die. You like Daddy’s fingers in your puppy cunt? Like when I make you all squishy ‘n stretched before I breed you?”

Reg whimpered again—squirmed—and then moved.

Xavier blinked, confused as the terrier twisted in his lap and hopped down between his legs, tail still wagging, curly ears bouncing with each tiny step.

“Baby?” he murmured, cock twitching, his fingers still wet.

Then groaned.

Because Regulus turned.

Trotted back.

And then lay down right across Xavier’s thighs—face pointed square at his cock.

“Reg—what’re you—”

And then that tiny pink tongue dragged up the side of Xavier’s shaft.

“Ffffuck—oh shit—”

Xavier’s whole body jerked, his back arching instinctively as his puppy licked again, little snuffling nose bumping against the base of his cock, tongue flicking out to taste the mess still smeared along the head.

“Oh fuck me—” he growled, reaching down to stroke Reg’s back, trembling. “You’re gonna kill me, pup… Daddy’s gonna fucking die like this—”

Reg kept licking, steady and eager, tail wagging wildly behind him. Tiny whimpers left his throat as he lapped at the leaking slit, then down along the underside, long wet strokes with his tongue like it was the only treat that mattered in the world.

Xavier shuddered, petting, praising, cooing—all while his other hand slid right back between Reg’s furry thighs, gently rubbing over that dripping puppy slit again.

“Yeah, take Daddy’s cock in your little mouth next, huh? While I play with that tiny puppy pussy, keep stretchin’ you till you’re ready to ride me again—fuck, baby, you're so nasty—I love you so much like this.”

Reg kept licking, tongue hot and eager and wet, face pressed down between Xavier’s thighs, ass cocked high in the air—perfect little mutt posture. His tiny body was trembling with every lap, back paws twitching against Xavier’s stomach, his soft little puppy pussy dripping between his fuzzy thighs like it knew what was coming.

Xavier was fucking melting.

“Good boy,” he panted, voice shaking, palm resting on Reg’s fluffy little head as he fucked his own cock slowly between those warm little licks. “That’s right, puppy—treat for you. Daddy’s cock’s your reward, yeah? Keep going, mmh—lick it clean, baby, that’s it—”

Reg yipped happily, tongue dragging from base to tip, making sloppy wet sounds as he worked like a proper trained pet. That little tail was wagging so fast it was practically a blur, brushing Xavier’s thighs with every happy bounce of his back end.

Xavier could’ve come right then and there—but instead, he slid his hand down and gently pulled Regulus back.

“Wait—wait—no, puppy, Daddy said tricks first,” he said, trying to breathe through the fire in his gut. “Gotta earn your treat, yeah?”

Reg barked softly, sat obediently in Xavier’s lap, tongue out.

“Good boy,” Xavier cooed, petting him. “Sit. Roll over.”

Reg did.

“Speak.”

“Ruff!”

“Fuck—fuckin’ good boy,” Xavier groaned, cock twitching and throbbing.

“Alright, pup. You earned it.” He leaned back, letting Reg nestle between his legs again. “Get back to work—come on, Daddy’s got somethin’ sweet for you.”

Reg didn’t waste a second—curling back down, licking fast now, eager and messy, making soft little mmff noises as he worked.

While Xavier reached down—slow, slick—and pressed two fingers back into Reg’s swollen, slick, dripping puppy slit.

“Ohhh, yeah, bebé… stay just like that…” Xavier murmured, curling his fingers gently inside him, slowly working Reg’s walls open with practiced ease, spreading him wide. “So tiny… your little pussy’s barely big enough for my fingers—fuck, what’s it gonna be like when I try and knot you, huh?”

Reg’s back legs danced, little hind paws stomping and twitching against Xavier’s stomach. Every time Xavier hit just right, the puppy’s hips would rock back, greedy for more.

“Look at that tail go…” Xavier whispered. “Waggin’ like you want Daddy to breed you. Gonna fill this puppy cunt up, knot you til you can’t move, fuck you so full it leaks for days…”

Reg let out a high-pitched whimper, his hips bucking instinctively against Xavier’s fingers.

Xavier grinned—utterly feral.

“My good boy.”

Xavier kept going, kept petting and fingering and cooing, the thick heat of his cock twitching as Regulus’s little tongue kept working like the obedient pup he was. But then—then Xavier's fingers slid deeper, stretching Reg’s tiny cunt with a slow, steady pressure he knew the puppy would feel hard.

And to keep his mind occupied?

He reached forward and gently wrapped a hand around Regulus’s fluffy little head, fingers threaded into those soft black curls behind his ears. He leaned down, voice thick and rough with growl:

“Careful now, puppy—watch the fuckin’ teeth.”

Regulus whined, confused—tilted his fuzzy little head, tongue flicking out dumbly. But Xavier just moved him—slow, firm—angled that soft, furred muzzle toward his cock, guiding him with both hands.

“Open up,” he breathed, and when Reg’s tiny tongue poked out again, he pressed forward.

Not deep. Couldn’t be. But he slid the thick, sensitive head right into Reg’s warm little mouth.

And moaned like he’d been shot.

“Ffffuck—yes—there you go, baby—Daddy’s cock in your mouth now, yeah?”

Reg yipped, tongue lapping instinctively. His little paws moved frantically, trying to brace, grip, keep balance as Xavier gently fucked into the front of his mouth, slow and shallow. Just enough to feel the wet heat of it. Just enough to melt.

All while his other hand was still between Regulus’s hind legs, two—no, now three—fingers buried in that soaking, pulsing little hole, still prepping, still stretching.

Regulus let out a muffled, eager nnnrrf!, tongue working, trying to lick and suck, tail wagging in pleased, frantic little beats behind him.

Xavier couldn’t take it.

“Holy fuck, bebé—fuckin’ multitaskin’—tongue on my cock, pussy on my fingers—you’re gonna kill me—”

He groaned, deep and savage, fingers flexing tighter in Reg’s fur as he fucked into that warm little mouth again.

“Yeah, good boy—just like that—take it—suck on Daddy’s tip, yeah? Earn your breeding.”

Xavier didn’t let up—not even for a second.

He had four fingers inside Regulus now, stretching that tiny, dripping puppy pussy wider with slow, firm, practiced pressure. The squelch of slick heat around his knuckles was obscene, filthy, but Xavier couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe.

Not with Reg’s muzzle wrapped around his cock like that.

He kept one hand firmly cradling Reg’s fuzzy little head, guiding him, petting him, owning him—keeping his puppy focused. Distracted.

“Good boy,” he panted, voice hoarse, hips twitching. “Fuck, you’re bein’ so good for me—keep suckin’, yeah? Daddy’s just gotta stretch you open, make room for this fuckin’ knot—”

Reg yipped against his cock, muffled, eager—still trying to take more. He pushed forward, tongue lapping at the head, then flicking along the underside, trying to curl around Xavier’s cock and slurp at the base. His tiny front paws scrambled against Xavier’s thighs, desperate for leverage, for control, but all he could do was whimper and keep working.

Xavier growled—low, guttural, unhinged.

“Ffffuck—oh my god, look at you—tongue out, suckin’ so fuckin’ pretty, all while I’m four fingers deep in your tight little puppy cunt—shit, baby, you’re gonna break me—”

He rocked his hips slow, gentle thrusts into Regulus’s soft, sloppy mouth, just the tip fucking forward before he pulled back and let the tongue swirl, slather, worship. Reg gagged once, then whimpered and tried again—his throat working, tongue never stopping, every sound soaked in drool and devotion.

Xavier was trembling now, every muscle in his body strung tight.

“You’re such a fuckin’ good boy,” he groaned, fingers thrusting deeper between Reg’s hind legs, curling just right. “You love this, huh? Being Daddy’s perfect little pup, mouth full, pussy stretched, tail waggin’ while I fuck your throat and your cunt at the same time—fuck, Reg—fuck, you’re perfect—”

And Regulus just whined, tongue working faster, tail a blur behind him, pussy twitching helplessly around Xavier’s thick, relentless fingers.

Xavier’s hips were stuttering now—sharp, needy thrusts into the back of Reg’s sloppy mouth, cock twitching and pulsing with that tight, brutal edge of release right fucking there. His voice was gone to groans and growls, rough and broken, hand fisted in Regulus’s curls while his fingers kept grinding deep in that twitchy little puppy cunt.

“Fffuck—fuck, baby—Daddy’s close—gonna give you your treat—gonna paint that pretty face—”

And right when it hit him, right when he couldn’t hold it anymore, he grabbed Reg by the fuzzy muzzle, gently pulled him back, thick cock sliding out with a slick pop.

“Open,” Xavier growled.

Regulus blinked, confused, but obeyed—soft pink tongue out, muzzle parted, panting—and Xavier fumbled into his pocket, eyes blazing.

Out came Reg’s soaked black boxers.

Xavier wrapped them around his cock, jerking hard, fast, desperate, the wet cotton slick with Regulus’s own juices clinging to him while Reg’s tongue stayed out, trembling, waiting.

“Ffffuck—yesyesyes—nnnhh fuuuuck—”

He came hard.

Hot white ropes painted across Regulus’s little face, sticky streaks dripping over fur and tongue and nose. It hit his cheek, smeared across one ear, the last thick pulse landing right between his eyes. Reg yipped at the sudden heat, then let out the sweetest little whimper and started licking—desperately trying to clean up, but his tiny tongue couldn’t reach it all.

“Oh fuck—look at you—” Xavier moaned, chest heaving, body trembling, still working his cock through the mess with the boxers tight in his fist. “My good little mutt—covered in Daddy’s cum—still licking it up—fuck, you’re unreal—”

His other hand never stopped working, fingers still deep in Reg’s soaked, stretched cunt, moving slow now, drawing little cries and tail-wags from the fucked-out pup.

Xavier just stared, dazed, still dying, and whispered:

“Best fucking boy in the world.”

Reg was bouncing now—little yips and whines bursting out of him, tail wagging frantically, curly fur puffed out as his hips rocked back into Xavier’s hand with desperate little thrusts. His tiny paws scrabbled at Xavier’s lap, back legs jittery, overstimulated and begging.

Xavier smirked—fingers still deep, still slow—and leaned close to coo down at him.

“Almost ready, puppy… but you gotta hold still,” he growled, voice husky, dragging his thumb right over the slick, fluttering edge of Regulus’s entrance again.

Reg whined, a sharp little hnnnnf! and stomped his back paws, wriggling. Xavier felt the squeeze, that rhythmic clench around his fingers, and let out a rough, groaning breath.

Then—he pulled out.

Reg let out the loudest whine yet, jerking in place, cunt clenching on air, tail still going. He yipped twice, huffed, then twisted, eager, obedient.

Before Xavier could so much as say a word, Reg had turned around—tiny black tail lifted high—and dropped himself down on Xavier’s lap again, but this time…

Face down.

Ass up.

Legs splayed wide with his fluffy little hindquarters tilted just right, pink puppy cunt on display.

Xavier choked on his own breath.

“Ffffuck me, baby…” he muttered, eyes wide, hands grabbing those perfect round cheeks, fluff spilling between his fingers. “Look at you—good little pup—got yourself in position without bein’ told…”

Reg whimpered. Pressed back. Tail wagging like he was proud of himself.

Xavier groaned, dragging his thumb over the slick little slit again, rubbing circles just to watch Reg twitch.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Stay still now, Daddy’s gonna fuck his puppy.”

He shifted up, lined himself up with one hand, cock glistening, thick and aching, tip nudging just between Regulus’s soaked folds.

“Shhh—it’s gonna go slow,” Xavier promised, stroking his back, voice low and trembling. “You’re so tiny, baby… Daddy’s big… just breathe for me…”

And then—push.

Thick, hot, stretching inch by inch into that pulsing puppy heat.

Reg yelped—a high little sound, desperate and sweet—and kicked his back legs once, paws dancing against the desk. His hips jerked back instinctively, trying to take more, and Xavier groaned loud, sinking deeper.

“Ohh, fuck—that’s it—take it, baby—take Daddy’s cock—”

Reg whimpered, tail thumping against Xavier’s stomach, hips rolling, greedy already, even as his tiny body fluttered around the stretch. And Xavier couldn’t stop groaning, couldn’t stop watching that slick, puffy cunt swallow him inch by inch with messy little clenches and squeezes.

Still going slow.

Still dying.

And Reg? Reg was being such a good boy.

Xavier kept going, his breath rasping out in raw, heated bursts as he gripped Reg’s tiny hips in both hands and pushed. Each inch felt like fire—tight, slick, squeezing him like Regulus was built to be bred. His knuckles whitened against soft curls of black fur, voice cracked with every groan, every low, possessive growl that rumbled in his throat.

“Unnngh… fffuck, baby, you feel like a vice… fuckin’ tight mutt cunt... Daddy’s almost there…”

Regulus was whining, high and broken—soft little yip! yip! yrrrrnnnh! cries flaring out of him as his body stretched slow around every unforgiving inch. His tiny legs kicked once, scrabbling for ground, then instinctively nipped at Xavier’s thigh—just a light little warning bite, bratty and overwhelmed.

Xavier chuckled through a sharp groan, still pushing in, still claiming every inch.

“Oh, we’re nippin’ now, huh?” he cooed, hand sliding up to scratch between Reg’s ears. “That how pups say ‘please’?”

He reached down again, grabbed two handfuls of Reg’s fluffy ass, and rolled his hips with a low, husky fuckkkk, burying the last thick inch in with one final push.

Reg let out a shocked little yip-hhnnng! and jolted forward, tail stiff and wagging. His front paws scrambled, legs twitching.

“Shhhh—shhhh, breathe for me,” Xavier whispered, stroking over Reg’s trembling back. “We’re in, baby. All the way in. Just hold still now…”

He stayed like that for a long moment—buried deep, cock throbbing inside that soaked puppy pussy—while he rubbed a soothing hand up Reg’s side and the other drifted lower.

He pressed against Reg’s tiny belly, fingers slow and exploratory.

“Fuuuuck…” he groaned, finding the bulge.

His cock, visible, pressing from inside.

“Look at that,” Xavier murmured, voice cracking into a chuckle. “You’re so tiny I can see it…”

And then he thrust—slow and firm.

Watched the bulge move.

Reg let out a soft rff! and pressed back, tail wagging like mad, whole body responding with those twitchy little leg kicks. His hips rocked back automatically, chasing the stretch.

“You feel that, baby?” Xavier crooned, thrusting again, fingers staying pressed to that firm little mound in Reg’s belly. “That’s Daddy’s cock, deep inside. Gonna see it every time I move…”

Reg whined again, one hind paw stamping the desk, trying to push back even more, eager to be used.

“Good boy,” Xavier breathed, licking his lips, voice thick with lust. “My perfect fuckin’ puppy boy.”

Xavier kept thrusting—deeper, harder, relentless.

Each stroke shoved thick and full into that soaked little puppy cunt, and every inch had him closer to the edge. His grip tightened on Reg’s hips, sweat slipping down his neck, muscles shaking with restraint he no longer had. The slick squeeze around him was molten, velvet-tight and twitching, and the needy little yip! yip! hnngh! rrnnn! cries spilling from Regulus’s panting puppy mouth were driving him fucking insane.

“Ffffuck—yes, baby—ride it, take Daddy’s cock like you want puppies—you want it all in that tiny fuckin’ cunt, yeah? Want me to fill you?”

Regulus barked, legs kicking behind him as he tried to push back faster, his fluffy little ass clapping against Xavier’s lap in desperate rhythm. Then—Xavier grabbed the base of his tail.

Pulled.

“YIP!—hnnnn!”

Regulus jerked, clenched hard, his whole body twitching and stomping with overstimulation.

Xavier growled through gritted teeth, hips snapping forward. “Oh you—fuck—yes, clench like that again and I’ll fucking breed you right here—mark your little pussy mine—”

One thrust.

Two.

Three.

And Xavier lost it.

“Fuck—fuckfuck FUCK—TAKE IT—”

He slammed in deep, balls flush, knot swelling thick inside that soaked puppy hole as he spilled, groaning loud, growling from his chest as his cock pulsed and throbbed and pumped every drop of cum right where it belonged.

Regulus flopped.

His hind legs kicked out, body stretching forward until his belly pressed to the desk and his ass stayed high, twitching around Xavier’s cock. Whines and little snuffling pants spilled out of him, his fuzzy face nuzzling into Xavier’s thigh, tongue flicking out as he panted and whimpered.

Xavier was still twitching, still groaning, one hand petting Regulus’s back while the other slowly rubbed circles over his hip, down to his mess-dripping cunt, keeping him calm. “There you go, pup… that’s it… all done now… such a good fucking boy… took Daddy’s knot so deep, fuck, I can feel it still squeezing—”

Reg just nuzzled harder, whined, and stayed there—stuffed, sore, owned—the happiest, most ruined little mutt in the world.

Xavier finally let out a deep, guttural groan, pulling out slow, thick, and deliberate—his cock dragging wet and heavy from Regulus’s stretched, dripping puppy cunt. A messy trail of cum clung between them before it spilled down in long, slick drips across Reg’s fuzzy little thighs and down onto the desk below.

“Fuuuuck,” Xavier muttered, voice hoarse, watching it ooze out of that twitchy hole like a personal gift.

Regulus huffed, gave a soft, unsteady whine, then wobbled forward a step on shaky paws. His little legs were jelly now—useless beneath the aftershock trembles of being bred and stuffed full—and he stumbled, tottered, and promptly flopped sideways with a soft fwump.

Xavier chuckled under his breath, already moving. “C’mere, pup,” he said, reaching down and hooking his hands gently beneath Reg’s armpits, lifting him like a limp, ruined plush toy.

Reg whined immediately, back legs kicking weakly, and as Xavier held him up, gravity took over—drip, drip—thick white trails sliding from his still-twitching cunt.

“Ohh, shit—hah,” Xavier laughed, grinning like a devil. “You’re makin’ a fuckin’ mess, baby.”

Regulus squirmed, wriggled in his grip, ears flicking in protest as he was lowered again and sat carefully on his hindquarters—like a good boy, right where Xavier put him.

“Atta boy,” Xavier murmured, petting his head. “Now clean me up.”

Reg whined but obeyed, trotting forward on wobbly legs and setting his little paws at Xavier’s thighs before leaning in with that hot tongue and starting to lick.

Messy, greedy laps across the soaked length of Xavier’s cock. Xavier groaned, watching his tiny puppy work, cleaning him up with soft snuffles and wet little sounds.

Once he was clean, Xavier tucked himself back into his pants with a final deep exhale, then leaned down again.

“C’mere,” he said softly, scooping Reg up like a baby—one arm under his belly, the other curled around his back.

Reg let out a soft, sleepy ruff, nuzzling into Xavier’s chest.

Xavier held him close, rocked him slightly, planting slow kisses into his fur.

“Good boy,” he whispered. “My best little mutt. You did so fuckin’ good.”

Reg snuffled, soft and content, and buried his nose against Xavier’s neck.

Tail still wagging.

The change came with a soft shimmer of magic and the faint rustle of air—Regulus transformed back into his human form, limbs long and pale again, soft skin flushed pink and sticky with heat, curling up against Xavier’s chest like he hadn’t just spent the last hour as a ruined little mutt in heat.

He was exhausted, cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded and hazy, body limp and heavy from how thoroughly he’d been wrecked, but he still clung tight. Tighter. Arms looped weakly around Xavier’s neck, head buried beneath his jaw like he never wanted to let go. His breath puffed soft and warm over the taller boy’s throat—sweet, fluttery sighs—and his legs shifted just slightly over Xavier’s lap, still shaky, still full.

Xavier smirked.

Big and slow and unbearably fond.

He leaned down, pressing his lips against Regulus’s—gentle, then firmer, deeper, until Reg was parting his mouth with a quiet whine, melting into it. Tongues brushed. Reg whimpered again, clinging, desperate for more, and Xavier gave it, humming low and sweet against his lips.

“Mmm… there’s my pretty boy,” he whispered against Reg’s mouth.

Another kiss. Then another. And another, messier, slower, wetter.

Regulus was soft with it now, pliant, his fingers curling around Xavier’s shirt as he breathed in little shuddering sighs. He didn’t have the energy to speak—just clung close and looked up with that dazed, wrecked expression that made Xavier’s heart squeeze like a vice.

So Xavier grinned and murmured, “Hold still, baby,” before flicking his wand behind Reg’s back. With a muted whoosh, the pile of Reg’s tattered, stained clothes vanished from the floor in a shimmer of magic.

Then Xavier muttered another charm—and his own clothes from his dorm began to apparate one by one in soft little puffs of air.

First came a pair of boxers—plain black, clean, soft—hovering mid-air before settling gently over Reg’s legs. Xavier tugged them up himself, kneeling forward as he guided Reg’s hips through the fabric. Reg blinked down blearily, making a quiet hhnnnh…? noise as he was dressed like a doll.

Next came joggers—deep charcoal grey, way too big—and Xavier cooed, “Legs, baby,” as he helped him step in.

Then the hoodie—a massive black zip-up that drowned Regulus entirely the moment it slipped over his head. The sleeves hung past his hands, the hem nearly hit his knees, and Xavier melted at the sight.

“Look at you,” he whispered, palming Reg’s cheek. “Fuckin’ adorable.”

He conjured fluffy socks last—dark green, of course—and tugged them on gently before leaning in to kiss his boy’s temple.

Reg whimpered again, nuzzled into Xavier’s chest with a tired little sound, his fingers finally popping free from the sleeve ends and curling back around Xavier’s shirt. He was dressed, warm, overwhelmed, and still absolutely clinging.

Xavier just held him tighter.

One arm looped under Reg’s legs, the other tucked around his back, holding him like he was something precious and breakable.

“Mine,” Xavier whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “My boy.”

Regulus didn’t answer—just snuggled closer, eyes fluttering shut.

And Xavier?

Peter snorted juice out of his nose.

Mary, Alice, Frank, Gideon, and Fabian were all squabbling over who had to go back to the Herbology greenhouse after lunch. Fabian was making impassioned speeches about why he shouldn’t have to touch another Venomous Tentacula.

Pandora Rosier was sitting at the Slytherin table with Dorcas, twirling a spoon absently while Barty and Evan argued about whose wand had better grip.

It was loud. It was stupid. It was normal.

Until the doors to the Great Hall slammed open with the kind of bang that silenced five hundred students in half a breath.

The air snapped.

Every head turned.

Standing in the doorway—robes rumpled, hair windblown and wild, wand clutched in a white-knuckled grip—was Regulus Black.

And he looked murderous.

Not his usual cool disdain. Not even one of his icy moods or rare snide outbursts.

No.

Regulus looked rabid. Deranged. Like he’d crawled straight out of the Black family crypt with centuries of vengeance burning in his chest.

Even his friends went still. Barty's fork froze mid-air. Pandora blinked. Evan, mouth open in mid-sentence, slowly shut it. Dorcas frowned deeply.

No one had ever seen Regulus like this.

Not once.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t acknowledge the stares or the whispers or the confusion thick in the air.

He walked.

Slow and purposeful, like he was holding himself together by threads. Past the Gryffindor table. Past Sirius—who stood up halfway with a choked, “Reg—?”

Ignored.

Completely ignored.

Regulus didn’t look at anyone. Not even Barty when he called, “Reg, what the fuck—?”

He was shaking. Not with fear—with rage. Barely contained, trembling, lethal rage.

The Ravenclaw table was chattering, all eyes locked on Regulus now as he stalked closer.

That’s when a tall, lanky boy—sixth year, prefect badge, smug face—stood up slowly and turned to meet him. He looked utterly amused.

“Look who finally grew a pair,” the Ravenclaw boy sneered, hands tucked in his pockets. “Thought you’d slink around like the pathetic little rat you are for a few more days, sweetheart.”

“Where is he?” Regulus hissed, voice venom and glass. “Give him back.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the boy smirked. “If you mean that scraggly waste of fur, maybe you shouldn’t have left your dorm open. Bit careless, even for you.”

“You broke into Slytherin,” Regulus seethed. “You stole my fucking cat.”

James dropped his fork. Sirius stared like he’d been slapped.

The Ravenclaw only grinned wider. “You mean Mittens? Cute little thing. Climbed right into my lap. Maybe he just prefers real men.”

Regulus’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Where. Is. He.”

The boy shrugged, smug as ever. “He’s safe. Ish. You can have him back—if you take me back. Or get on your knees and beg. Maybe call me Daddy for old time’s sake. You were good at that, weren’t you?”

Gasps. Sharp inhales. Chairs scraped back. Students leaned in.

The Great Hall fell dead silent.

And then—

Regulus moved.

He didn’t just hex the boy.

He didn’t just shout.

He launched himself over the table like a fucking panther and tackled the Ravenclaw to the ground with a sickening crack. Benches toppled. Dishes clattered.

“YOU SICK FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!” Regulus roared, fists flying, voice raw. “GIVE! ME! MY! FUCKING! CAT!”

The Ravenclaw screamed, shielding his face as Regulus landed blow after blow. There was nothing elegant about it—this wasn’t a duel. This was feral. Brutal. Years of pent-up fury pouring out in fists and knees and snarled curses.

“You fucking SLUT!” the Ravenclaw shrieked, trying to shove Regulus off him. “You’re just a needy little whore—!”

Regulus screamed. “Say it again, you absolute fucking CUNT! I dare you!”

Students were yelling now. Some cheering. Some screaming. Some trying to pull Regulus off. Gryffindors and Slytherins alike were standing on benches, gaping.

“GET A PROFESSOR!” Lily was shouting.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD,” Sirius breathed, completely frozen.

Barty was sprinting across the Hall, shoving people aside. “REG, REG, STOP—”

Regulus didn’t stop.

“You thought you could fucking HUMILIATE ME?!” he shrieked, slamming the boy’s head against the floor. “You FUCKING KIDNAPPED MY CAT!”

“You fucking psycho!” the Ravenclaw spat blood. “You don’t DESERVE that cat! You don’t deserve SHIT!”

“STOP!” Sirius finally moved, leaping over the Gryffindor table. James was right behind him, Remus and Peter pushing through the crowd.

Barty reached Regulus first.

“Reg—baby—stop, you’re gonna get expelled—”

Regulus was sobbing now, furious and desperate and choking. “He—he took him—he said I had to beg—he said I had to—”

Pandora grabbed him next. Dorcas followed, hands tight around his arms. “We’ve got you. Reg, we’ve got you.”

Professors finally burst in.

McGonagall’s voice thundered across the chaos: “WHAT IN MERLIN’S NAME IS GOING ON?!”

Fabian, still on the table, shouted back, “Regulus just fucking snapped! It’s about a cat!”

“My cat!” Regulus wailed, still struggling. “He stole Mittens!”

“YOU’RE A PSYCHOPATH, BLACK!” the Ravenclaw shrieked from the floor, bleeding from his nose and lip.

“You’re a dead man,” Barty hissed, stepping toward him.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU MYSELF,” Sirius growled.

Remus grabbed him. “Don’t.”

Regulus was still thrashing, trying to break free. “I trusted you!” he yelled at the Ravenclaw. “I let you in! I fucking loved you and you stole my cat?! You’re deranged!”

“You left me!” the Ravenclaw spat. “You don’t get to walk away and keep the cat!”

“I LEFT YOU BECAUSE YOU’RE A STALKING PSYCHO!”

Slughorn and Flitwick were dragging them apart now. McGonagall had her wand drawn, shouting over the chaos. The crowd was dispersing, still murmuring, still reeling.

Regulus was held between Barty and Pandora, shaking and crying and furious, face red, knuckles bleeding. Sirius stood between him and the Ravenclaw like a wolf ready to maul.

The Ravenclaw was hauled to his feet by Frank and Gideon, who both looked two seconds from violence themselves.

“You’re lucky he got to you first,” Frank muttered darkly. “I would’ve shattered your jaw.”

“Where’s the cat?” Gideon snapped.

“Where. Is. The. Fucking. Cat.” Dorcas echoed, voice flat and terrifying.

The Ravenclaw scoffed blood. “Common room. Under my bed.”

“You’re fucking done,” Barty said. “Expelled. Azkaban. Dead. Pick one.”

McGonagall pointed a trembling wand at all of them.

“Detention,” she snapped, eyes blazing. “All of you. Now. And we are calling your parents.”

“Oh, good,” Sirius snarled. “I’m sure our mum will love hearing that someone held Reg’s cat hostage as an emotional ransom.”

“I’M GONNA MURDER HIM,” Regulus screamed again.

“Not if I get there first,” said Pandora sweetly.

Everyone kept shouting.

Except the cat.

Mittens, found later under a blanket with his fur fluffed and ears back, was unharmed but deeply traumatized.

The same could not be said for the Great Hall.

Or the Ravenclaw.

Or Regulus Black, who—after being forcibly escorted to the hospital wing—fell asleep curled around his cat with blood on his hands and not a single fucking ounce of regret.

──────────────────── ⚔️ ─────────────────────

He spun his wand once more and surveyed his work.

“Perfect,” he whispered, stuffing the wand into his borrowed leather jacket. He turned to leave, smug satisfaction curling in his chest.

Then— “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The voice wasn’t loud. But it was cold. Sharp. Familiar.

James froze.

He turned.

Regulus Black stood just behind him in the shadows, arms folded, eyes narrowed. He looked like sin in school uniform—robe hanging half-off his shoulder, tie loose, hair falling into his eyes. And he looked pissed.

“Oh—uh—” James stammered, forgetting his disguise entirely, panic rising. “Hi?”

Regulus tilted his head, confused.

James mentally slapped himself. Right. You’re Sirius. You’re his fucking brother.

He coughed, straightened his shoulders, and scowled. “What are you doing here, Reg?”

But Regulus didn’t flinch.

He frowned, confused, and took a slow step forward. “Why are you talking like that?”

James tensed. Regulus was staring up at him with those wide grey eyes, searching his face like something didn’t add up.

“You never talk to me like that,” Regulus said softly, taking another step closer. “Not when we’re alone.”

James blinked. “Uh—yeah, well—maybe I’m in a mood.”

“You’re in a mood?” Reg repeated, voice small now, like he was hurt.

And then—before James could do anything—Regulus stepped right up into his space. His hands curled around the lapels of James’ jacket like they belonged there, like this was routine, like they’d done this a hundred times.

“Why are you being mean?” Regulus whispered, leaning in. “You never act like this when no one’s around. Did I do something wrong?”

James' brain short-circuited.

He stuttered, backing up a step. “No—no, it’s not—you didn’t—fuck.”

Regulus followed, close again, stepping into James like gravity. He looked up through thick lashes, lip jutted in a soft pout. “Sirius,” he said, all breath and vulnerability and something sickeningly tender, “don’t be cruel. You promised you’d stop.”

And then he kissed him.

It wasn’t long. It wasn’t messy or loud or showy. It was soft. Familiar. A hand at James’ chest, another at the side of his neck. Regulus kissed him like he knew him. Like he’d done this before. Like he loved him.

James didn’t move.

Didn’t kiss back.

Just froze—eyes wide, heart stopping, blood rushing in his ears like a curse.

Regulus pulled back slowly, confused again.

“Sirius?” he whispered.

James stumbled, nearly tripping over himself as he recoiled. “What—what the fuck was that?!”

Regulus blinked. “What do you mean? I thought you—” He smiled awkwardly. “Don’t act like you haven’t been wanting to since lunch. You practically mauled me behind the library.”

“I what?!” James shouted, voice cracking high and thin.

Regulus just giggled. Actually giggled.

James' stomach flipped violently.

“Oh, come on,” Regulus cooed, stepping close again, tugging on the collar of James’ shirt. “We’ve got time before curfew. You can finally try that thing you were begging me about.”

James slapped his hand away. “What thing?!”

Regulus smirked, slow and wicked. “You know. The thing you were blushing about for weeks. With the—” He leaned in, whispered something filthy.

James screamed. “NOPE. NO. I’M—NO.”

Regulus blinked again, startled.

“Sirius, what’s wrong with you? I want to do it. I’ve thought about it. You don’t have to beg anymore, it’s fine—”

James was already backing away. “Nope. Nope. Nope. Fucking hell. I have to go. I—don’t touch me.”

“Wait—”

But James turned and ran.

He sprinted.

Down the hallway, past the staircase, nearly tripping over his own feet. He tore off the leather jacket mid-flight, heart hammering, mouth dry.

He ducked into the nearest bathroom, slammed the door, and stared at himself in the mirror.

Sirius stared back.

He gagged.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

His hands gripped the sink like it would keep him grounded. His brain was screaming. Every part of him felt tainted, wrong, cursed. He was still in Sirius’ body. Still wearing his face. Still tasting Regulus’ fucking lip balm.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “Holy fucking shit.”

He splashed water on his face.

It didn’t help.

He bent over the sink and dry-heaved.

They’re together. They’ve been together. For years? Years? He thought Sirius hated him. He always acted like it—

“Jesus Christ,” James gasped.

His mind reeled, rewound, tried to connect dots that had never been there before—glances he’d missed, the way Sirius would go silent when Regulus’ name came up. The way Regulus never insulted Sirius like he did the others. The quiet moments. The shared looks. The scars on Regulus’ wrists that Sirius refused to let anyone comment on.