#soft bois

Soft terumob for a rough Wednesday

(This is what instant regret looks like)

May I present: Hank, the avenging angel

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It was always Sirius’ idea.

Not that James needed much convincing. Not that Peter had the spine to say no. And Remus—well, he always sighed, rubbed his eyes, muttered “this is going to end in disaster” and then followed them anyway. That's just how it worked.

This time, the idea was simple. Elegant. Hilarious.

They were going to hit Regulus Black with a singing hex.

Not any singing hex. Not some jolly old charm that made you burst into Christmas carols or fart out the lyrics to Celestina Warbeck. No, this one was nasty. Subtle. It forced you to sing your real thoughts. Your subconscious, uncensored. It dragged truth out of your throat like it was a goddamn puppet string. What could possibly go wrong?

“You know,” Remus had muttered dryly as Sirius dragged them down the marble staircase toward the lower floor corridors, “I don’t think humiliating your brother is going to fix your unresolved childhood trauma.”

Sirius didn’t even turn around. “You’re not funny, Moony.”

“I’m hilarious.”

“Let’s just hex the little snake and go,” James grinned, wand tucked up his sleeve. “Quick in and out.”

Peter shuffled behind, wide-eyed and already sweating. “He’s always with those creepy Slytherins. What if they curse us back?”

“That’s why we strike first,” Sirius said, all teeth and vengeance. “We’ll hit him with it and get the fuck out of there before he knows what hit him. This is payback.”

“For what?” Remus asked, exasperated. “For existing?”

“No. For being Regulus.”

That was enough, apparently.

They found him in the South Hall, where the sun poured in dusty through the old stained-glass windows, dust motes glittering like charmed pollen. It was a Saturday. Students milled and lounged and laughed in clumps, the Hogwarts weekend beat buzzing like a beehive.

Regulus Black sat like a painting in the centre of it all. Cross-legged on the ledge of the long hallway window. His robes pristine, his curls tucked behind one ear, his eyes half-lidded and sharp as ever.

He wasn’t alone.

Surrounding him like a court of dangerous angels were the Slytherin elite:

Barty Crouch Jr., sprawled across the floor with a book open and his wand twirling in his fingers.

Evan Rosier, who kept blowing smoke rings from a charmed cigarette and watching them pop with a grin.

Pandora Rosier, hair like starlight and face like ice, painting her nails with something that glowed.

Dorcas Meadows, legs draped over Regulus’ lap, flicking Bertie Bott’s Beans at Barty with surgical precision.

The air around them pulsed with that kind of still, heavy tension—like too much perfume in a locked room. Beautiful. Sharp. Untouchable.

“Do it,” James whispered.

“I’ve got the shot,” Sirius breathed, wand raised over the heads of the crowd. “Watch this.”

He whispered the incantation.

The spell sailed like a glinting arrow.

It hit Regulus square in the shoulder.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then his body slumped, eyes going glassy, expression blank. His friends jolted like something had struck them physically.

“Reg?” Dorcas blinked.

“What the fuck—” Barty was on his feet, wand drawn, furious and fast.

But before any of them could act—

Regulus opened his mouth.

And sang.

They passed me by All of those great romances

The sound was not what anyone expected.

It wasn’t comical. It wasn’t embarrassing. It wasn’t even funny.

It was—

“Oh my God,” Marlene McKinnon gasped from further down the corridor, where the Gryffindors not in on the plan had frozen mid-convo. “That’s Regulus?”

The sound was unfair. High and haunted. Like crystal breaking under pressure. An angelic, aching thing.

Students were staring. Halting. Turning.

You were, I felt, robbing me Of my rightful chances

“Who’s he singing about?” Alice Fortescue whispered, brows furrowed. Frank shifted beside her, confused and uneasy.

“Holy shit,” Peter muttered, stunned.

Regulus didn’t seem aware of the crowd. He sang like someone possessed, like the words were being yanked from somewhere buried.

My picture clear Everything seemed so easy And so I dealt you the blow One of us had to go

“Oh no,” Lily Evans said quietly, eyes wide. “He’s not talking about—he’s not singing to someone. He’s singing about himself.”

Remus went still.

James looked at Sirius.

Sirius’ smirk faltered.

Now it's different, I want you to know One of us is crying, one of us is lying In a lonely bed Staring at the ceiling Wishing he was somewhere else instead

“What the fuck is this,” Barty barked, grabbing Regulus’ shoulders. “Reggie—Reggie—what the hell—who did this—”

Dorcas was already scanning the crowd like a hawk, jaw clenched.

Pandora’s eyes were fixed on her brother, slowly widening. She mouthed something. A name?

Evan Rosier wasn’t grinning anymore.

One of us is lonely, one of us is only Waiting for a call Sorry for himself, feeling stupid, feeling small Wishing he had never left at all

“Oh shit,” said Gideon Prewett, half-laughing, half-horrified. “He’s singing about—himself? Like... he left himself?”

“No,” said Fabian softly, “he left someone. And he regrets it. That’s not about him as a person—it’s about something he did.”

“And it wrecked him,” Mary whispered. “He’s saying he’s the one crying.”

They weren’t the only ones catching on.

The hallway had gone still. Not silent—because Regulus was still singing—but hushed. Like the castle itself was listening.

I saw myself As a concealed attraction I felt you kept me away From the heat and the action

A strangled sound came from Sirius’ throat.

No one noticed. Not yet.

Just like a child Stubborn and misconceiving That's how I started the show One of us had to go

Dorcas covered her mouth. Her eyes glistened.

Pandora was deathly pale.

Evan looked down at the floor like he couldn’t take it.

And Barty—Barty looked like he’d been punched. “Regulus,” he said again, quieter this time.

Now I'm changed and I want you to know One of us is crying, one of us is lying In a lonely bed Staring at the ceiling Wishing he was somewhere else instead

“He’s not just singing,” Remus murmured, throat tight. “He’s confessing.”

“He’s... talking to someone,” Lily whispered.

“No,” said Marlene, voice breaking a little. “He’s begging. He’s suffering.”

James couldn’t look away. He had no jokes left. No quips. Just disbelief.

Sirius had stopped breathing.

One of us is lonely, one of us is only Waiting for a call Sorry for himself, feeling stupid, feeling small Wishing he had never left at all

“Who did he leave?” Mary asked, whisper-shouting. “Who? Who’s he talking about?”

“Why does it sound like he’s—grieving?” Alice’s voice cracked.

Frank put a hand on her back, unsure what to say.

The song wasn’t done.

Never left at all Staring at the ceiling Wishing he was somewhere else instead One of us is lonely, one of us is only Waiting for a call

The last verse hit like a funeral bell.

Sorry for himself, feeling stupid, feeling small Wishing he had never left at all

Silence.

And then Regulus blinked.

He gasped like he’d been underwater. His back arched. His hand flew to his chest.

“What the fuck,” he hissed, eyes darting, panic blooming as he realised where he was, who was watching, how many.

His friends rushed in at once. Barty had him by the arms. Pandora was kneeling at his side. Dorcas barked something furious at someone—no one could hear. Evan looked ready to curse the walls down.

Regulus’ eyes scanned the crowd.

They landed on Sirius.

And for a second—

A flicker of something. Hurt. Old and aching.

Then it was gone.

The spell broke.

But Regulus didn’t move.

He sat exactly where he’d been sitting when the hex struck him—on the wide stone sill beneath the stained‑glass window—except now he looked alive again, painfully so. His chest was rising too fast. His hands were trembling where they gripped the edge of the ledge. His face was drained of all colour.

And worst of all—

There were tears in his eyes.

Not falling. Not dramatic. Just there. Brimming. Glassy. Fighting for their life.

The entire hallway felt the temperature drop.

Barty crouched in front of him immediately, both hands on Regulus’ knees.

“Hey. Hey—Reg. Look at me. Look at me. What the fuck was that? What did they do to you?”

Dorcas was right behind him, one hand gripping Regulus’ shoulder, the other hovering over his jaw like she wanted to cup his face but didn’t dare touch him without permission.

“Reggie,” she whispered, panic choking her. “Sweetheart—talk to us, what happened—”

Pandora was kneeling on the ground, her hands fluttering uselessly in the air like the world had stopped making sense. “He’s not… he’s not reacting. Someone undo that spell. Now.”

Evan stood rigid as a marble statue, hands clenched at his sides, gaze locked on Regulus’ trembling form. He looked murderous. The kind of murderous that started wars.

“Tell me who hexed him,” he growled. “Tell me right now.”

But Regulus wasn’t looking at any of them.

He stared at his own knees, at his own knuckles going white, at the floor—anywhere but faces. His jaw was set like he was holding in something catastrophic. His breath came too sharp, too shallow.

The other students crowded around, buzzing with shock, gossip, awe, and fear.

The Gryffindors stood frozen in place.

Sirius looked like someone had replaced all his bones with ice.

Remus was pale.

James’ mouth opened and closed, soundless.

Mary McDonald was openly crying.

Marlene was gripping the banister like she was about to faint.

Fabian and Gideon looked like they’d seen someone die.

“Regulus,” Sirius finally said.

Quiet.

Shaking.

Trying—desperately—to sound like he had any right to ask.

Regulus lifted his head.

Just a fraction.

His eyes met Sirius’.

And the look he gave his brother—

It wasn’t rage.

It wasn’t hatred.

It was a question wrapped in a wound:

Why do you think you deserve to know?

Sirius flinched backward like the air itself slapped him.

James grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

Remus whispered, “Pads… don’t—just don’t.”

Pandora turned sharply, voice slicing like a shard of ice. “You don’t speak to him. Not now. Not ever again unless he says so.”

But Regulus wasn’t even glaring anymore. The spark had died. He looked exhausted. Unmoored. Small in a way none of them had ever seen.

Barty’s voice gentled, softening like silk fraying. “Reggie… please. Talk to us. We’re right here. We just—we need to know what that was about so we can help you.”

Dorcas leaned closer. “We’re not asking to pry. We’re asking because we care.”

Evan finally crouched down, slow and cautious, as if approaching a wounded creature. “You don’t have to tell the hallway. Just us. Just your friends.”

Regulus’ fingers twitched.

He swallowed.

And something in him cracked—not loud, but visible.

He breathed out a shaking sigh, the kind that deflates an entire spine. Then he curled in on himself, pulling his knees slightly up, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm like he could shove all the emotion back in.

His voice came out thin.

Raw.

Barely a whisper.

“I hate this spell.”

Pandora exhaled shakily. “We know, darling. We know. But—what… what was that song about?”

Regulus pressed his forehead to his knees for a moment before lifting his face again, eyes red, lashes wet but tears stubbornly unshed. His chest hitched once—audibly.

Then again.

A third time.

Evan reached out and held his wrist, grounding him. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Regulus nodded.

Once.

Slowly.

And then—voice breaking, breath trembling—he spoke.

“It was about… my betrothal.”

Pandora froze mid‑breath.

Dorcas’ grip tightened.

Barty stiffened like a statue.

Evan inhaled sharply but didn’t interrupt.

The hallway erupted in whispers, shock rippling out like a wave.

“Regulus was betrothed?” “To who?” “Wait—he was engaged—like—actually engaged?” “What pureblood family was it?” “Holy shit—this is bigger than I thought—”

Regulus winced at the noise. His eyes dropped again.

“Reggie,” Barty murmured, “everyone’s staring. Do you want us to take you somewhere else? A classroom? The dorm?”

But Regulus shook his head.

“I–I just want to get it out. Because if I don’t I’m going to—” His voice cracked. “—I’m going to fall apart.”

Pandora reached up and gently cupped his cheek. “Then tell us. We’re here.”

Regulus closed his eyes.

And the words finally came.

“I was betrothed when I was nine.”

A collective gasp rippled through the corridor.

A few Gryffindors murmured, horrified, “Nine?”

Regulus continued.

“To another pureblood boy. He was a year older than me. Our families arranged it before we were even old enough to understand what that meant.”

He swallowed again, voice trembling so hard it almost fell apart.

“But… he was kind. To me. He didn’t treat me like—like an heir, or a burden, or a Black. He was gentle. He taught me how to sneak cakes from the kitchen, and he’d let me read to him even though he hated books. And I—”

His breath hitched, shoulders curling forward.

“I loved him.”

Dorcas shut her eyes, devastated.

Barty’s jaw clenched.

Pandora looked like she might cry.

Regulus’ hands started shaking harder.

“But he hated pureblood society. He hated everything about it. The rules. The expectations. The cycles. The family politics. He wanted out. Desperately. He wanted to live somewhere far away—somewhere no one cared who he was or what his blood meant.”

His voice softened into a whisper.

“…but he stayed. Because of me.”

The hallway fell silent again.

Regulus curled in on himself further, tears slipping free despite his efforts.

“And I couldn’t let him do that. I couldn’t let him throw his whole life away just because he… loved me.”

Pandora whispered, “Oh, Reg…”

“So I ended it. I made myself into something he could hate. I picked fights. I said things that weren’t true. I hurt him. On purpose. So he would leave. So he’d be free.”

He wiped his face with a trembling hand.

“The last time I saw him… he glared at me. He said he hated me. He told me I was cruel and cold-hearted and everything wrong with our world.”

His voice broke entirely then.

“And I let him believe it. Because if he hated me, he would leave. And he did.”

Silence. Crushing. Heart-shattering.

Regulus took one shaking breath.

“I never meant any of it.”

Another.

“I don’t hate him.”

Another.

“I’ll probably love him for a long time.”

And then—

The smallest, quietest confession of all:

“I still do.”

The hallway didn’t breathe.

Not a single soul.

Sirius looked like his heart had been ripped out. James’ hand was frozen on his shoulder. Remus’ eyes softened painfully. Alice covered her mouth. Marlene let out a broken gasp. Frank put his hand over his eyes like he couldn’t stand hearing it.

Barty bowed his head, crushed under the weight of not knowing sooner.

Pandora stroked Regulus’ hair.

Dorcas wrapped her arms around him from behind, careful and gentle.

Evan whispered, almost inaudibly, “Reggie…”

And every student in that hallway—Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw—stared at Regulus Black like they were seeing him for the first time.

Fragile.

Human.

Heartbroken.

And more loved than he’d ever allow himself to believe.

For a full five seconds, after Regulus whispered “I still do,” the entire hallway was dead, holy‑shit silent.

Then—

Pandemonium.

Absolute nuclear‑level screaming.

Students clutched their chests, grabbed their friends, shrieked into the vaulted ceiling.

“HE WAS ENGAGED?” “REGULUS BLACK WAS IN LOVE?” “HE BROKE HIS OWN HEART ON PURPOSE?” “HE LOVED A BOY—A PUREBLOOD BOY—WHAT THE FUCK—” “WHY DOES THIS SOUND LIKE A TRAGIC NOVEL?” “YOU CAN’T JUST DROP THAT ON A SATURDAY MORNING—” “WHO THE HELL WAS THE FIANCÉ?”

Half the corridor looked like they needed a drink. The other half looked like they needed therapy.

Barty was shouting at James. Dorcas was shouting at whoever came near. Pandora was having a quiet meltdown while stroking Regulus’ hair like he was a shaken faun. Evan was full‑body trembling with the urge to commit homicide.

The Gryffindors were yelling over each other:

“Oh my GOD—” “THIS IS HORRIBLE—” “HE’S BEEN SITTING ON THAT ALONE??” “MARY STOP CRYING YOU’RE MAKING ME CRY—” “FABIAN WHAT DO WE DO—” “I DON’T KNOW, GID, YOU TELL ME—”

Regulus? Regulus just sat there curled up small, shaking, clutching the fabric over his chest like he could keep himself from spilling into pieces.

His friends circled tighter, creating a shield around him.

Pandora whispered, voice cracking, “Reggie… darling… why didn’t you tell us?”

“I d-didn’t want to—br‑break things,” he hiccupped, rubbing at his eyes, “and I didn’t—I didn’t want you all t-to look at me differently—”

“WE LOOK AT YOU DIFFERENTLY NOW BECAUSE YOU’RE SAD, YOU TWAT,” Dorcas said, voice wobbling between rage and heartbreak. “Not because of who you loved—”

“WHO YOU STILL LOVE,” Evan added, basically feral.

“Don’t remind me,” Regulus whispered miserably, shoulders curling in.

And then—

Sirius froze.

The sound around him fell away like a pulled curtain.

His brain replayed every lyric. Every look. Every word.

He didn’t breathe.

He didn’t blink.

He whispered to himself—no, no way, no way, no way—

James noticed. “Pads? What? What is it?”

And then Sirius—hands shaking—stepped forward.

He spoke quietly.

Too quietly.

“Regulus… are you talking about… Phineas Vale?”

The reaction was instant.

Regulus didn’t flinch.

He shattered.

A sound tore out of him—high and wounded and small—and then he broke into full, helpless, horrible sobbing.

Not elegant tears. Not quiet crying. Not dignified pureblood sniffles.

Ugly, heart‑split‑open, body‑curling sobs.

He folded in on himself, hands covering his face, shoulders shaking violently as years of swallowed emotion ripped free.

Pandora gasped, hand flying to her mouth. Dorcas wrapped her arms around him from behind, holding him together. Barty immediately grabbed his hands, grounding him, muttering “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe, he can’t hurt you, we’ve got you—” Evan looked like the world had tilted under his feet. Half the hallway fell silent in horror.

The other half?

Screaming again.

“PHINEAS VALE?? THAT PHINEAS VALE??” “THE GUY WHO DISAPPEARED FROM SOCIETY??” “THE ONE WHO RAN AWAY TO FRANCE??” “THE ONE WHO SAID HE’D NEVER MARRY A PUREBLOOD??” “THE ONE WHO CURSED HIS OWN FAMILY TREE AND VANISHED??” “YOU’RE TELLING ME REGULUS BLACK WAS ENGAGED TO HIM??” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN HIS LAST WORDS TO REG WERE ‘I HATE YOU’—OH MY GOD—” “THIS IS WORSE THAN A SOAP OPERA—”

The Gryffindors were just as unhinged:

Mary: “HE LOVED PHINEAS VALE? PHI‑NE‑AS FUCKING VALE??” Marlene: “SOMEONE HOLD ME.” Fabian: “THAT EXPLAINS THE SONG—OH MERLIN—” Gideon: “SIRIUS WHY DID YOU KNOW THAT??” Lily: “Sirius. Answer. Now.” James: “Oh my GOD this is—this is—holy SHIT—” Alice: “Someone get Regulus water—” Frank: “Someone get me water—”

Sirius’ face crumpled.

“That’s why you— that’s why you two stopped writing,” he whispered. “He cared about you. He really cared. And then he just—left.”

Regulus sobbed harder at that.

Barty snapped. “THIS IS YOUR FAULT, YOU STUPID GIT—YOU HIT HIM WITH A SPELL—”

“It wasn’t supposed to— I didn’t know— I didn’t know—” Sirius’ voice cracked down the middle.

Regulus choked on a breath, curling smaller in Dorcas’ arms, and whimpered:

“I didn’t want him to stay. He would’ve been miserable. I didn’t—I didn’t—want to be the reason he never got free—”

Pandora whispered, “Oh, love…”

Evan, voice breaking, said, “He didn’t hate you, Regulus. You know that, right? He was angry. Not hateful. You let him go.”

Regulus sobbed like he hadn’t heard a word.

The hallway had become a cathedral of heartbreak.

And every single student knew:

Nothing about this was going to be forgotten.

Not the song.

Not the confession.

Not the name.

And definitely not the way Regulus Black wept like he’d been holding this grief since childhood.

The world had changed in one hallway. And Hogwarts would talk about this moment for decades.

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It had been four months since the day Regulus Black sang his heart out in the middle of a hallway and shattered the social hierarchy of Hogwarts with a single trembling breath.

And nothing had been the same since.

People looked at him differently. Not cruelly—not anymore—but with that heavy kind of sympathy that stuck to you like spiderwebs. He hated it. He hated the silence that followed him, the way even professors tread a little softer around him now.

And worst of all: he never said another word about Phineas Vale.

His friends didn’t push him. They hovered, gently. They picked up the pieces as best they could. They never spoke Phineas’ name aloud. Not even Barty, who had opinions. Not even Pandora, who’d already started writing a poem about it and then burned it halfway through. Not even Evan, who casually offered to curse the bones of everyone in the Vale line once a week for morale.

It was like it had all been locked away again, buried under frost.

At least, as far as Regulus was concerned.

But Sirius?

Sirius had gone feral with guilt.

It became an obsession. A mission. An oath.

He would find Phineas Vale.

James helped because he didn’t know how to say no. Remus helped because Sirius was spiraling and someone needed to manage it. Peter helped because Peter was just always there. And once the others heard the whole story—Lily, Marlene, Mary, Frank, Fabian, Gideon—there was no stopping them.

Letters were sent. Owls were tracked. Archives were scoured. Old pureblood channels. Muggle records. Foreign registries. Underground contacts. Fabian even posed as a wine merchant once.

Then—finally—a location.

A tiny ivy-choked house in southern France. Far enough off-grid it didn't even have a street name. Surrounded by trees. Quiet. Hidden.

They wasted an entire Hogsmeade weekend on it.

Blew half their savings on a portkey.

It was Gideon who banged on the door. It was Marlene who yelled first. It was Sirius, wild-eyed and shaking, who told him everything.

And it was Phineas Vale, seventeen and suddenly years older than before, who stood in the doorway in his worn jumper and old boots, pale as death, mouth ajar, shaking as the truth slammed into his ribs like a curse.

“You… you’re saying he—Reg—he lied?” he choked, voice strangled and disbelieving.

“Yeah, you dumb bastard,” Sirius snapped. “He broke his own heart so you could be free.”

“He sang about you, Vale,” said Lily, low and deadly. “In front of the entire school. It nearly destroyed him.”

“I—fuck,” Phineas whispered, stumbling back, hands in his hair, “he—he looked me in the eye and said he hated me—he made it so easy to leave—oh, Reggie, no—fuck, fuck—”

“He never stopped loving you,” said Marlene.

“He cried like his ribs were cracking,” Peter added.

“Even we didn’t know,” James said. “And now you do.”

Silence.

Phineas stood there, shattered and glowing with horror and longing and disbelief.

And then—fire.

He turned, vanished inside.

Packed a bag.

And the next thing anyone knew—

Wednesday. Between lessons. Corridor by the Transfiguration stairwell.

Regulus was walking with his friends, head high, books in arm, eyes slightly glazed. A perfected mask.

Barty was mid-rant about Slughorn’s blatant favoritism.

Dorcas was loudly threatening to murder the next student who bumped into her. Pandora was humming something under her breath and painting stars on her wrist. Evan was listening with half a grin, hands in his pockets, watching Regulus out the corner of his eye like always.

“Can’t believe Slughorn gave that Longbottom boy a better mark than me—”

“—you hexed his teacup, Barty—”

“—maybe he should thank me for keeping him on his toes—”

And then—

“Black,” Gideon Prewett’s voice called, loud and too casual.

The Slytherins all groaned as one.

“Oh, brilliant,” Barty muttered. “What the hell do you lot want now—”

“Can’t we go one week without the lion parade—”

“You absolute cockroaches—”

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “What now, Sirius? Want to make Reg sing again for an encore?”

Regulus sighed, stepping slightly behind Evan. “We don’t have time for—”

And then the Gryffindors parted.

And he stepped through.

Tall.

Older.

Eyes wild.

Hair longer.

Wearing a dark coat and black boots and looking like he hadn’t slept properly since the moon first split the sky.

Phineas Vale.

Regulus froze.

Dead still.

All the blood in his body seemed to drop out of him. His breath stuttered.

“Ph—”

But he didn’t get the name out.

Because Phineas was already moving.

He sprinted across the floor, shoving past Sirius and James and Marlene, dodging students who scattered at the sight of him like he was a lightning bolt made flesh.

And then—

He was there.

He grabbed Regulus like a man starving.

One arm under his thighs. The other around his back. He lifted him right off the floor with zero warning.

“Wha—Phin—”

And spun him.

Lifted and whirled him around like something out of a fairytale, like he was weightless, like the two years of heartbreak had never existed.

And then he kissed him.

Right there. In the middle of the hallway. In front of everyone.

Regulus gasped into it, utterly stunned, his arms flailing—

Then falling around Phineas’ neck.

Then clutching his coat like he was drowning.

His knees curled slightly, calves around Phineas’ hips, and he melted into the kiss with a whimper that made at least seven students collapse on the spot.

Pandora shrieked. Dorcas screamed. Barty yelled “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK—” Evan shouted “YOU’RE LATE, YOU PRICK—” Mary and Lily grabbed each other. Sirius whooped. James fell to his knees. Frank dropped his books. Fabian and Gideon burst into applause. Marlene cried. Remus stared in awe.

Students were screaming from every direction. Some were crying. Some were cheering. Some were fainting dramatically.

Murmurs of “it’s him, it’s Phineas, IT’S PHINEAS VALE, HE CAME BACK FOR HIM—” flew through the corridors like wildfire.

Regulus finally pulled back, breathless, dazed.

“You—you absolute idiot—what the fuck—”

“I should’ve known,” Phineas whispered against his lips, voice trembling. “I should’ve known, you little bastard. Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

Regulus hiccupped a laugh, tearful and shaking. “You left—”

“You made me.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing—”

“You weren’t.”

“I know,” Regulus whispered. “I know.”

Phineas kissed him again.

And Hogwarts exploded.

❤️ Be Mine: “Oh that is IT! Come here!”

💚 Cupid: “I’m gonna get you!”

💚 Puppy love: “Where are those giggles I love so much?”

💞Candy Hearts are OPEN!💞

AHH! :D I love! Listen- you know I had to do a Hirorin dabble when given a chance! I love me some Falling!Rin content, and Hiori is just ADORABLE! I've got you covered, anon!

Be Mine: "Oh that is IT! Come here!" + Cupid: "I'm gonna get you!" + Puppy Love: "Where are those giggles I love so much?"

Rin leaned in his hand as he watched Hiori play. Well- to be more accurate, he was really only watching Hiori. The cyan-haired teen was so fascinating when he was in flow state.

Eyes trained on the screen, tongue just barely poking out of pink lips and his nose the tiniest bit scrunched. He sat like a gargoyle over his switch, but it was so endearing to Rin. His breathless little gasps did funny things to his heart.

God, he was falling.

“I’m gonna get you…” Hiori leaned towards his switch as a large fish shape appeared. It was suddenly too much. Despite his attempts to smother it, Rin laughed in his hand.

“AH!” The cyan player cried when his fish got away, startled by the sudden sound. “Rin!” Then he paused, eyes widening. “Did you just…giggle?”

“No. You misheard.” Rin spoke flatly, turning away. Hiori slowly put down his switch.

Then…

“That is IT! Come here!” He cried, grabbing onto Rin and bringing them onto their backs. “Where are those giggles I love so much? Come on now- give them up!”

“Whahhahat are you eheheven sahhahahhaying?” Hiori’s sudden confession broke all of Rin’s defenses well before the tickling began. He felt strangely giddy, hearing there was something about him his crush loved. “I dohohohon’t gihiihihggle! Ehahahha, thhihihis is ahahahll a hahahhaaluuhuhuhcinahahhation!”

“Is it now? Are you trying to say I’m losing my mind?” The other asked, focusing his touch along Rin’s ribs and waist. “Maybe it’s a dream! If it is though, don’t wake me up. I’m enjoying it too much!”

“Yoohohohou’re ahahhhabsoohoholutely inshahahahne! Ahehahahehehahhahaha! Whahhaha are yoohohohu eheheheven ohoohon? Gehahhaa- ahahahah stahhahap!” Rin pleaded, bringing his knees up to try and block out his hands. Hiori switched to his knees, squeezing them a few times until they went back down. From there he grasped Rin’s hips. “Hihihihio pleahahhahahse!”

“Well there- I never thought I’d hear the day Rin Itoshi pleaded!” The cyan teen giggled, worsening Rin’s own giggle fits tenfold. “I think I like that sound- do it again!”

How devious! Rin wheezed weakly as he grabbed at Hiori’s hands, stomping his feet in a weak attempt to gain some power back. “Hihiihiori! Hihihihiihoohohori-pleahahahse! Pleahahhahse- YOHOHOO PLEAHHAHSE!” He cried out when Hiori pressed both thumbs into his hips, nearly sending him over the edge. “Pleaahhahahse pleahahhase stahhahahap!”

“Hehe! Okay okay.” Hiori pulled his hands back, face a bit pink and just the tiniest bit breathless. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Rin groaned, closing his eyes as he recovered. His whole body ached, but it wasn’t a terrible feeling. He could hear his pulse in his ears, not fully blocking out Hiori’s sweet giggles as he tittered away. “Yoohohu freaking suuhhuck. I hope you lose another fihihsh.”

Hiorin cackled at that, overcome with mirth. He fell into Rin’s chest, shoulders twitching with each giggle he released. Rin felt his heartrate skyrocket at the feeling, cyan blue hair tickling his nose and a comforting smell of black tea his senses. He let himself relax into it after a moment, resting his hand on Hiori’s back as the other snorted like a pig.

He could get used to this.

"Hey, Moony!"

"Moo!"

Remus grinned as he walked through the door with Lily, the sound of Sirius and Harry's greetings making him chuckle.

But his chuckles quickly turned into an all-out fit of laughter when he got to the kitchen to take in the scene before him:

Harry and Sirius were at the table, which was covered with old issues of The Daily Prophet and had paints and brushes scattered across it. However, Sirius's admittedly-mature effort at keeping things clean must have gone horribly awry at some point, because both boys were covered in paints of every color, and there were smears of paint on the floor, counter, chairs, and- ceiling? How they managed that, Remus didn't want to know.

Luckily, Lily seemed to take it all in stride, because she walked in behind Remus and said, "Wow, you two! You've had some fun today, huh?"

Harry let out a squeal of approval and threw a paintbrush across the room.

"Harry painted you and Prongs!" Sirius declared proudly, gesturing to a painting that consisted entirely of lines and blotches. ("Maaaa Daaaa!")

"Well, he's certainly got abstract painting under control," Lily remarked with a grin, plucking Harry up from his infant chair. "Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

She disappeared up the stairs with a babbling Harry.

"Harry's going to be sad when Prongs gets back from his trip and you don't have to watch him every day anymore," Remus remarked lightly, grinning at Sirius, who was picking paint out of his hair.

But Sirius just laughed and gestured to another painting. "I made something for you. Could be worth millions someday," he said with a wink.

Remus looked at the paper. It was...unsophisticated. Two stick figures, one taller than the other. The shorter one had black hair and the taller one wore what could only be described as a ridiculous sweater with polka dots that Remus suspected were finger-painted on.

They were holding hands.

"It's us," Sirius shrugged, smiling softly.

Remus tried not to get too emotional over a silly little painting, but something about it tugged at his heartstrings. He swallowed the lump in his throat and laughed lightly. "You clearly have a gift, Pads."

"Wanker."

"I love you," Remus murmured, pulling Sirius into a hug.

"Love you more."