#jegulus fluff

baby's first fic!!

"Stay decent." He snapped, pointedly staring at the pale sky. "You don't need to fucking strip in front of me."

James grinned, a playful smile lifting his dimpled cheeks. "Why? Not enjoying the show?" He teased. Enjoying the show a bit too much, Regulus thought to himself grimly.

***

Regulus has lived his life in the gloom of 12 Grimmauld Place, spent years overshadowed by his older brother, imprisoned by the Black name. He doesn't mind the dark - he's long befriended the monsters under his bed. But now, Sirius is gone, the war is consuming him, and an unfairly sunny boy is brightening his life (even if he doesn't know it yet).

Pairing: Regulus Black/James Potter Tags: Quidditch, Lots of kissing, james is so weak for regulus’ lips, regulus can play pro and james & i’ll be his biggest fans, major character death (only if you read the alternate ending), canon compliant (again only if you read the alternate ending), no beta we die like canon marauders Written for Regulus Day 2022 - first posted on AO3

It’s impossible to forget about him and even more impossible to not notice him, in or out of the quidditch pitch, but he feels him before he sees him, the sudden whoosh of a broom speeding past, knocking him slightly forward, and drops of water hitting his skin, not from the skies but from wet robes billowing in the wind. He was just as soaked as everyone on the pitch, the green of his robes a shade darker and clung to his body the way wet clothes did. His hair, normally styled and tidy—fluffy and almost as wild as James’ when newly awoken, something only a handful could witness—was flat on his face, rain-slicked. If it was any other person, they would’ve looked like a wet dog, but he was Regulus Black, and instead, he looked breathtaking.

This fic is kind of a oneshot, and it has an alternate sad ending (that you’re not required to read at all unless you want some hurt) simply because I’m a sucker for angst. Below the "keep reading"/divider will be the alternate sad ending, so if you don’t want to read that, just skip it really. It wouldn’t really affect the story that much.

James feels him before he sees him.

They were hours into a match against Slytherin, and it was the last match of the school year. The house that wins this game wins the Quidditch Cup, so tensions were high since last week and as of two days ago, it already reached the point of jinxes and hexes in the corridors. The weather today wasn’t cooperating either, and everyone was already soaked to the bone, which made the match more troublesome, more for James who had to constantly wipe his glasses.

As quidditch captain, James wasn’t really too worried. This year’s team-up was one of the best Gryffindor has had ever since he started playing and their new chaser, despite only being a second-year player with little experience, was exceptionally good and can keep up with James’ tactics. With their current score of 340-210, James is confident that the cup will be Gryffindor’s to take this year.

Only, he forgot one variable.

He didn’t mean to, truly. It’s impossible to forget about him and even more impossible to not notice him, in or out of the quidditch pitch.

He feels him before he sees him, the sudden whoosh of a broom speeding past, knocking him slightly forward, and drops of water hitting his skin, not from the skies but from wet robes billowing in the wind. When he finally saw him though, he was a blur of green shooting higher into the sky, chasing after a golden object that he couldn’t spot himself.

“Oi, James! Why did you stop?” he hears from afar, a voice that sounded like one of Gryffindor’s beaters. It was there when he realised that he ended up pausing at some point, and it was fortunate that he’d already passed the quaffle to his teammate, or he might’ve been knocked over by the opposing team. He signalled that he was alright and dashed forward, though his eyes were still focused on the blur of green.

It truly was impossible to not notice him, and James, despite being the captain, despite being a chaser who was still very much in a predicament of trying to steal the quaffle back, couldn’t help but watch in the corner of his eye the Slytherin seeker zoomed past the screaming students, lean frame swooping up again in heavy concentration as he and the Gryffindor seeker—a third-year and currently the smallest member in their team, a good player but honestly, house loyalty be damned, not as good as her current opponent—go neck and neck in a wild chase for the golden snitch.

James successfully steals back the quaffle and passes it to his teammate, and as he turns toward their goal posts, the blur of green starts becoming clearer, nearer. James’ heart beats faster and he sees the tiny golden object speed past him. He’s honestly not sure if it really was the snitch at first, the rain has been bothering him non-stop already, and it wasn’t like he was the seeker, until Regulus Black was speeding towards him— no, the snitch flying somewhere behind him.

The reality was too quick and gone in a flash, no one else would even know the moment happened except for James. In actuality, the Slytherin seeker paid him no mind, completely focused on the snitch, and was already behind him within a second. For James though, it felt like time had slowed just at that moment, for despite his complaints about the rain interfering with his vision, he saw clearly the way Regulus squinted and furrowed his brows, stormy grey eyes, as grey as the sky, never leaving the snitch, and the small movement as he slowly raised his right arm to try to catch the object. The Gryffindor seeker was just behind him, but she couldn’t outspeed Regulus at this point.

He was just as soaked as everyone on the pitch, the green of his robes a shade darker and clung to his body the way wet clothes did. His hair, normally styled and tidy—fluffy and almost as wild as James’ when newly awoken, something only a handful could witness—was flat on his face, rain-slicked. If it was any other person, they would’ve looked like a wet dog, but he was Regulus Black, and instead, he looked breathtaking.

He turned just in time as Regulus suddenly—and quite spectacularly, in James’ and the roaring audience’s opinions—descended sharply in a spiral dive, and streaked toward the snitch like a bullet heading towards its target.

At the very last second before reaching the ground, he pulls out of a dive swiftly and effortlessly. If James didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought he pulled a Wronski Feint. But the tightly balled fist and the roars that have grown impossibly louder tell otherwise. The other Slytherin members were flying toward him, and the man of the hour himself was fighting back a grin from spreading on his face.

Somehow, he meets James’ eyes, and he couldn’t stop the grin anymore. He was smiling with all teeth as the rest of the Slytherin team hugged him and were about to lift him up. He was completely and utterly gorgeous, and James just melts . He almost couldn’t help it, he wanted to smile back.

“And Black catches the snitch in a spectacular dive earning the team 150 points and ending the game with 340-360! Slytherin wins by a 20-point margin and wins this year’s Quidditch Cup!” the commentator bellows, and he’s reminded of the fact that he is Gryffindor’s team captain and logically, he shouldn’t have a reason to smile.

He turns to his teammates and gives them all a hug. They’ve done their best, and there’s nothing else they can do. He lets himself get disappointed in the fact that they lost by a mere 20 points, and their team moves to shake hands with the Slytherins.

When he reaches Regulus, he’s met with a stoic-looking face, but  James knows him by now to see the barely-there upward turn of his lips, and the look of pride and happiness in his stormy grey eyes that are especially bright right now that James couldn’t bring himself to look away from. When he shakes Regulus’ hand, the fingers that were peeking out from the gloves were warm despite the cold environment, hands calloused from holding a broom. It was significantly smaller than his own hand, but it fit his own like two puzzle pieces. The handshake was brief, but James wished it lasted longer.

“Good game, Potter.” He says and turns away before James could reply. His voice was thick and raspy, perhaps due to the rain, and James makes a mental note to get him to drink tea later.

With the map in his hand, he walks up the astronomy tower under the invisibility cloak, easily avoiding Filch and his cat. To be honest, he’s not expecting company till much later, considering the party Slytherin must be having in their common room at the moment. It was alright, he can wait. He’ll even wait forever and a day if it comes to it.

But to his surprise, he finds that he already has company. Regulus sits by the railings, feet dangling from the edge. He was wearing a sweater, James’ sweater , the same one he gave Regulus last Hogsmeade weekend. James slips off from the cloak and sits next to Regulus, and for a moment, they share a comfortable silence together. He offers his hand and Regulus takes it, hand warm just like earlier, even though the night is colder. He traces the moles in Regulus’ arm out of habit, the one he considers a constellation on its own. They were sitting very close together that James could feel Regulus’ hair brushing across his skin as the soft wind blows by.

James was never the type to enjoy the silence, especially when he has a best friend named Sirius, but it’s the opposite with Regulus. He thinks he could last forever and a day with the boy in complete silence and he’d still enjoy every second of it.

“What brings you up here so early?” James eventually asks after a while, “wouldn’t they be worried that their star seeker had disappeared suddenly?”

“We started celebrating early, so now everyone’s too drunk or busy with others that it was too easy for me to slip away. Besides, do you want me to arrive late? That could still be arranged.” Regulus replies, and James laughs, pulling the other into a hug.

“And spend less time with you? No thanks. How was the party though? Did you have fun at least?”

“It was great, I mean– we won the Cup, so Eisenhower made it his mission to make everyone party hard and get drunk even harder.”James chuckled at that. There was only one thing that Gryffindor parties, as wild and fun as they were, could never beat, and that was Slytherin’s drinks in theirs. They have Eisenhower’s family wine business to thank for it, and he even made it a bit of his own business, providing the drinks for any house party, except the Gryffindors were too proud to be his customers.

“You don’t seem drunk though, seems like he failed his mission then.,” James teases. Regulus scoffed, “You know I know how to evade him. Besides, I didn't want to get drunk for this,” he gestured to their linked hands, “don’t you have something to give me, James?”

He was obviously meaning something else entirely, but his body betrays him, leaning forward. So James grinned, and met Regulus in the middle, lips closing in on the other.

Regulus’ lips were soft and warm against the cool breeze of the night, and it was just as he remembers. He tasted like strawberries, and James wondered what kind of food the Slytherins serve in their parties that made him taste like it. The younger moves to place his hand on James’ cheek, and it's all he begins to feel. Regulus eventually lets go, despite James’ small noise of protest.

“That’s not what I meant, but thanks, I guess.” Regulus rolled his eyes, but he was fond. James laughs and thinks that it was time, lest the younger would grow impatient. One thing that James learned in their relationship was that Regulus enjoys surprises, even though he makes himself look like he hates them. When James hinted that he’d be given something if Slytherin wins the game, he saw the way the younger’s eyes visibly brightened in anticipation, determined to earn that prize.

He decides to tease Regulus for a bit though. With a little tilt to his head, he innocently asks, “What do you mean? Don’t you deserve a little congratulatory kiss for beating my team this year?”

“Sod off, you know that’s not it.” Regulus pushes him lightly. “You were supposed to give me something.”

“And I did! I gave you a kiss, didn’t I?” James smirks, “and a really good one too, except you pulled away. I’m up for another one though, what do you say?” he wiggles his eyebrows, earning a scoff in response. He leans forward, because he wants to tease Regulus some more, but also because he truly does want to kiss him again.

Regulus shifts backwards, glaring at him. “But you said last week!”

“Oh, yeah. Well, I did give you something, didn’t I?” James blinks innocently, and Regulus huffs. He looks a bit disappointed, and James feels a little guilty.

“Fine, whatever. Come here then,” he says and grabs the front of James’ shirt to kiss him.

The kiss was fiercer than the one they shared earlier, and James could feel that the other was frustrated. He kisses back with much enthusiasm as an apology, and discreetly slips an object onto Regulus’ wrist while the other is busy wrinkling James’ shirt.

When they slowly pull apart, Regulus still looked like he was disappointed, and it wasn't until he lets go of James’ shirt and lowered his hand that he notices the added weight on his wrist.

His gaze snaps to his wrist in surprise. For all James’ confidence and teasing, he suddenly felt nervous about Regulus’ reaction.

“James… what is this?” he asks, eyes never leaving the bracelet. It was a silver cuff shaped like a snake. Its eyes, made of two tiny emeralds, shine under the moonlight.

“It’s a bracelet,” he replies.

“Of course it is.”

“Hey, let me finish first. It’s a touch bracelet. I made it look like a snake because… well, you’re a Slytherin and I think it just fits your overall aesthetic.”

“A touch bracelet?” Regulus asks curiously, stroking the silver snake on his wrist. Immediately, James feels the warmth of Regulus’ fingers across his skin.

“It’s a muggle thing actually. Lily and Mary were talking about it a while back, but the muggle ones can’t go for very long distances, and they only send small vibrations, I think. So I charmed this one so that it would actually go long distances, and that it imitates actual human touch.” James explains with a hint of pride. He’d been working on the spell for a little over a month now with Sirius and his mother, his test subjects on making sure the thing actually worked (he was originally only going to ask his mother to test the distance, but ever since Sirius found out, he practically begged to be in it too— this is for my brother, isn’t it? And my brother deserves nothing but the best , he said—so he could try it out for Remus’s gift). He finally managed to make the spells work properly just last week when he told Regulus of the prize.

“So how does it work? Does this mean you have one of your own?” Regulus asked, and James answered by raising his own hand, showing the gold bracelet with the Leo constellation, stars made of rubies glittering in the moonlight.

“You just have to touch the snake, really, it’s as simple as that. When you were touching it earlier, I could feel you, as if you were touching my arm yourself.” James said, and moved to touch the constellation on his bracelet to demonstrate, fingers lingering on a specific star.

Regulus blinked in surprise, seemingly shocked to feel James’ touch without having been touched at all.

“This… this is…”

“I was going to give you that even if you didn’t win today, just so you know. I wanted to give it to you so we could still have a sense of connection even if we’re far apart, especially since I’m a year above you and we don’t share any classes at all. So, if you ever miss me… it’s not the same as being together, but you know, I hope it's enough for the meantime, until we see each other again.”

“You made these?” Regulus asks, hands tracing the snake in wonder. James feels warm at the sight, and it wasn’t just because of the touch bracelet doing its magic.

“Yeah, your brother volunteered as a test subject actually.”

“Let me guess, so he can make a similar gift for Remus?” Regulus showed a knowing smirk, and James laughed. “Of course. He’s probably working on it as we speak.”

“It’s beautiful, James. It really is. It’s lovely and thoughtful, and– you really made this for me? Modified spells… for me?” Regulus looks up, stormy grey eyes, bright and piercing, meeting his hazel ones. The rainy sky earlier was no match for Regulus’ eyes, James couldn’t bring himself to look away.

He’s willing to drown in the storm of Regulus’ eyes, to sink himself deeper in the flood of grey.

“If not you, then who?” James smiles softly, eyes never leaving the other. He sees the slow creep of a blush reach Regulus’ pale skin, and despite the darkness of the night, he knows the younger was already red, like the strawberry James tasted from the boy’s mouth earlier.

“Say,  why do you taste like strawberries?” James asked when he remembered the thought.

“Eisenhower brought over pavlovas along with the drinks,” Regulus replied like it was an obvious response.

James laughed at this, trust the guy to serve something that posh in a Quidditch victory party. He tells Regulus this and the younger giggles. It sounds sugary sweet, and James thanks the heavens and the stars that he was deemed worthy of hearing it.

“I like it though, you taste sweet. Thank the guy later for me, yeah?” James says and Regulus leans closer to him.

“I should thank you too, for this,” Regulus says, intertwining their fingers together like pieces of a puzzle and raising their linked hands. The moonlight illuminated the gemstones like they were their own reachable stars. He was smiling at James, and he was only human, weak to siren’s songs, weak to the smile of the ever-stoic looking Regulus Black, the smile that was reserved for him, and only him. He does what every man pulled into a siren’s song does, he surges forward, giving his all.

“Happy birthday, Regulus.” James says when they catch their breath, his lips still close to the other.

“Oh, so you remembered after all.” Regulus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling fondly.

“Of course I did. Why else would I give this bracelet to you today specifically?” James raised Regulus’ arm to kiss his wrist, just above the bracelet he’d given the other. “Besides, Sirius wouldn’t shut up about the idea of Slytherin losing as your birthday present.”

“Well, I live to disappoint Sirius, after all. How did he fare after the game?” Regulus says, and the two of them laugh.

“Oh, he was disappointed alright. Wouldn’t bloody shut up in the common room about the 20-point lead. I mean, I can’t say I don’t agree. I’m the captain after all, and we’ve been doing really well earlier. Before you caught that snitch, we were on a 130-point lead! All because of our great chaser lineup, which obviously included me, and no offence, but your keeper is shit. I’m honestly surprised you guys managed to reach the finals with his disaster of a performance. But then, I guess your seeking skills were great enough to win you guys the games,” James exclaimed, “anyway, as I was saying, we were winning! I even did a Finbourgh Flick earlier! If only you gave us a few more minutes to score three more goals. Or two! I wouldn’t mind a tie. Well, not really, but—”

“James.”

“Ah?” James blinked at the sudden interruption.

“Shut up,” Regulus said and pulled him in for another kiss.

This kiss, just like all the previous kisses they’ve shared, feels a bit addicting, because he doesn't want it to stop.

Regulus seems to feel the same because he surges back and chases James’ lips again after they catch their breaths, like he was drowning, and his life depended on the oxygen in James’ mouth. James nibbles on the younger's lower lip, and he dives in, just when the other opens his mouth to give space for Jame’s tongue to enter.

They kiss over and over again under the moonlight. Some were slow and sweet, others fierce and hungry, and it truly was addicting. James wouldn’t mind chasing for Regulus' lips forever, till the sun begins to rise, until a professor catches them in the act. He wouldn’t even mind getting detention for it if it meant getting to feel the warmth of Regulus’ lips against his, the small curve of a smile and the taste of strawberries and liquor.

A shame that there were no stars to bear witness to their evening, the rain from earlier making it impossible for them to appear tonight,  but the moon was still hung high above, and such an observer was enough.

Below is the “alternate sad ending” that is canon-compliant (so yes, regulus dies there). You’re not required to read that one though, and you can finish reading the story with just this one, as the events in next chapter happens after Regulus’ death.The story can end with the two boys kissing that year in the astronomy tower. If you’re a bit of a masochist, then by all means, push forth.

Life || Jegulus Word count: 914

@taylorswiftmicrofic @jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic @lilldrknesss

Life, Regulus Black has learned, is mostly made up of very small things.

This is an irritating realization, because he was raised to believe life should be sharp-edged and purposeful and impressive from a distance. Grand gestures. Clean lines. Proper ambition. The sort of life that looks good when summarized.

Instead, his life now consists largely of James Potter standing barefoot in their kitchen at half past seven in the morning, squinting at a kettle like it has personally betrayed him.

“It’s making a noise,” James says.

Regulus looks up from the table, where he’s annotating an article with ruthless precision. “Yes.”

“It didn’t do that yesterday.”

“It did,” Regulus says calmly. “You just weren’t paying attention.”

James frowns at the kettle. “I think it’s angry.”

“It’s boiling.”

James glances at him. “Same thing.”

Regulus sighs and closes his book, standing to rescue both the tea and whatever fragile dignity James has left this early in the morning. He reaches around James without ceremony, flicks the kettle off, and pours the water.

James watches him with open admiration. “You’re very competent.”

“I am,” Regulus agrees.

“I married up.”

“You married sideways,” Regulus corrects, handing him a mug. “At best.”

James grins and leans in to kiss him anyway—quick, warm, absentminded. The kind of kiss that isn’t trying to prove anything.

Regulus used to think love would feel louder.

He thought it would arrive like a revelation—something undeniable and consuming and obvious to everyone involved. He certainly didn’t expect it to feel like this: quiet mornings, shared grocery lists, James folding laundry wrong on purpose because he knows Regulus will fix it.

(He does not fix it anymore. This has been a hard-won boundary.)

They eat breakfast together at the small kitchen table. James reads the Prophet upside down, commenting loudly on things Regulus hasn’t asked about.

“Did you know Kingsley’s up for another promotion?”

“Yes,” Regulus says. “He told us at dinner last week.”

“Oh. Right.” James squints. “Still proud of him.”

“As you should be.”

James beams like he’s been personally complimented.

After breakfast, James leaves for work in a rush—late again, hair still damp, tie crooked. He pauses in the doorway, keys in hand.

“Hey,” he says.

Regulus looks up. “Yes?”

James crosses back and cups Regulus’s face, kissing him more slowly this time. Deliberate. Certain.

“Just checking,” James says quietly. “You’re okay today?”

Regulus blinks. The question is gentle, unassuming. No implication. No pressure to perform wellness.

“I am,” he says honestly.

James nods, satisfied. “Good. Dinner tonight?”

“Obviously.”

“Brilliant.” James grins, then vanishes.

The door clicks shut.

Regulus returns to his book, but he doesn’t read for a while. He sits there instead, listening to the house settle, the quiet hum of a life being lived.

He remembers a time when silence meant something else entirely.

The past still exists. He doesn’t pretend otherwise. It lives in old instincts, in moments of sharp anger that arrive without warning, in the way he still flinches at raised voices. But it no longer defines the shape of his days.

Life, it turns out, is not a thing to escape. It’s a thing to inhabit.

That evening, Regulus is halfway through chopping vegetables when James reappears, smelling faintly of parchment and wind.

“I brought bread,” James announces, holding up a loaf triumphantly.

“You were meant to bring milk,” Regulus says.

“Yes, but I also brought bread.”

Regulus closes his eyes briefly. “We already have bread.”

“This is better bread.”

Regulus opens one eye. “How?”

James considers. “Rounder.”

Regulus exhales through his nose. “Get out of my kitchen.”

James does not get out of the kitchen. He hovers instead, stealing carrots and offering commentary.

“You know,” James says, “when I was younger, I thought life would feel… bigger.”

Regulus hums. “Define bigger.”

“More dramatic,” James says. “Like I’d wake up every day and feel like something important was about to happen.”

“And now?”

James watches him for a moment, thoughtful. “Now I wake up and know what’s happening. Tea. Work. You. Dinner. Sleep.”

Regulus pauses, knife hovering. “And is that… disappointing?”

James smiles, soft and certain. “It’s brilliant.”

Regulus returns to chopping, heart doing something inconvenient.

They eat together on the sofa that night, plates balanced precariously, knees touching. James tells a story about Sirius arguing with a shopkeeper over the ethics of enchanted umbrellas. Regulus listens, amused, correcting details where necessary.

Later, they wash up together. James hums tunelessly, sleeves rolled, hands clumsy but earnest. Regulus dries, sets things away, nudges James aside when he’s about to stack something incorrectly.

“You love me,” James says.

“I tolerate you,” Regulus replies.

“Deeply.”

They move through the rest of the evening without ceremony. A bit of reading. A bit of silence. James sprawled across Regulus’s lap at some point, entirely uninvited.

When they finally go to bed, James curls toward him automatically, one arm flung heavy and familiar across Regulus’s waist.

“Reg?” James murmurs, already half asleep.

“Yes?”

“I like our life.”

Regulus stares up at the ceiling, at the soft dark of a room that has never hurt him.

“So do I,” he says.

Life isn’t grand. It isn’t clean or impressive or easily summarized. It is uneven and repetitive and occasionally ridiculous.

It is bread bought instead of milk. It is knowing someone will ask if you’re okay—and meaning it. It is choosing, again and again, to stay.

Regulus closes his eyes, James warm and solid beside him.

This, he thinks, is enough.

@jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic - January 19: Picture - Words: 227

"Delete it", Regulus demanded, as soon as Sirius walked into the Potter living room and snapped a picture of them.

He had never liked himself in pictures. Had learned to cover his face as soon as anyone was pointing a camera in his direction. Had on multiple occasions threatened to kill Sirius for not deleting a picture fast enough. Had actually pushed Barty out of a window for the same reason (bottom floor, but still).

"Okay", Sirius sighed and his finger hovered over the button. "You look so happy, though."

Reluctantly, Regulus glanced at the photo of himself, nestled into James' side. He did look happy.

His hair was slightly ruffled against the backrest of the sofa. The angle made his forehead look a little bit too big, and his nose look weird... but maybe that wasn't the end of the world?

He smiled. His cheek was squished against James' shoulder in a way that should be unbecoming, but strangely wasn't. His eyes had a dreamy glow. He had never even imagined he could look like that. But that wasn't all.

James looked at him as if he was the greatest gift he had ever been given: pleased and proud and protective in one adorable mix.

~accidental legimency~

——

“Why is he so pretty? Nobody should be that pretty.”

Those are the first words Regulus Black hears when he walks into the library. When Barty hexed him with temporary legimency - where he can only hear thoughts about himself - he’d expected it to be odd, and probably a little insulting in some cases, but he never expected this.

He tries to ignore it, and goes to the shelves lined with potions books, but that voice comes through again.

“His hair looks so good today, I wish he’d let me touch it. His hair is probably so soft.”

Regulus stares straight ahead, forcing his eyes to stay on the shelves and not try to pick out which of these students seems so enticed by his hair and face. He recognises the voice, vaguely, but not enough to know who exactly it is thinking these things.

He shudders, picks out the book he needs and darting to a nearby seat. He looks through his bag and starts digging for his quill - only to realise that in the chaos of that morning, he must have left his slytherin dorm with Barty’s satchel instead of his own. So instead of quills, ink, books or literally any normal thing - Regulus instead finds a pair of terrifying looking scissors, a lock of blonde hair that looks suspiciously like Evan Rosier’s, and a glass jar filled with…snake skin - he thinks.

Regulus grimaces, and drops the jar back into the bag, before raking a hand through his hair and trying to decide which of his classmates he should ask for a pen from. Then he hears that voice again.

“Oh he doesn’t have his quill - that's weird, Regulus is usually so organised.”

He resists the urge to out loud shout ‘I am organised - I’m just best friends with a chaos demon’ when the voice continues.

“I have a spare quill, maybe I should- yes-yes I will. That’s a good enough excuse to talk to him. Okay - here I go.”

Regulus’ eyes widen, realising what is about to happen and holding his breath for this voice to become a face and body and name.

Someone taps his shoulder, and he turns around fast enough to almost fall off his chair.

“Hey Reg, I saw you didn’t have a quill.” He hears - in that voice.

He sees the outstretched quill first, then follows it to the exposed muscled forearm and the shirt rolled up to his elbows. He keeps going and finds himself staring right at the face of the school's quidditch star, his brother's best friend, and the boy Regulus has been sort of obsessed with since his first year when he first met the boy.

He gapes at James Potter, waiting for this all to be revealed as some elaborate, horrible joke.

“Oh Godric, why is he staring like that? Do I have something on my face? He must think I’m so weird. Fucking damnit James.”

Regulus hears, and actually startles back. Holy shit. This is James - James thinks he's pretty, and wants to stroke his hair and talk to him.

“Sorry, I thought you needed a quill- I’ll um- see ya round Reggie.” James starts to ramble, all flustered and adorable, and begins to retreat back to his seat.

Regulus reaches out and takes him by the wrist, pulling him closer.

“What is he- oh.” James sighs both inwardly and outwardly, as Regulus lifts his hand and places it on top of his head, into his nest of curls.

He smiles, sheepishly. “I think you’re pretty too.”

@jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic - November 25: Drift - Words: 291

James looked out over the lake and enjoyed the moment. The glowing flowers leaning out over the waterline were truly beautiful. It had been quite the hike with a four-year-old, and it would be well beyond Harry's bedtime when they got back, but James was still glad Regulus had insisted they should see this in the evening, when the dark made all the glowing campanulas justice.

“Wow! So pretty!” Harry exclaimed.

Regulus crouched beside Harry and drew his fingers appreciatingly along a stem full of luminous white little bells.

"They are. I used to wish on these when I was little. Like this."

Regulus carefully picked a flowerbell, placed it in his cupped hands, blew gently on it and placed it floating on the calm surface of the water. He stood and watched it slowly drift towards the middle of the lake.

Harry copied him, but paused with the flower in his hands. "What did you use to wish for?"

Regulus hesitated to answer, and James started wondering if he should step in and save him from having to share anything from his childhood that he wasn't prepared to.

"This", Regulus said quietly and sent a quick tear-filled glance at James, "a family full of love."

"Then I wish for many more moments like this." Harry said confidently and placed his flower on the water.

James took a step forward and slipped his hand into Regulus'. He grabbed it tightly and leaned his head on James' shoulder, looking out over the lake. For a brief moment, the world seemed to be at complete peace.