#trans!regulus

“So…I fucked up a bit,” James said awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck as he stood in front of a stone-faced Regulus, praying that the other boy would find some mercy in his heart.

“Obviously,” Regulus drawled, gaze full of hatred.

So this was going well. “Yeah,” he nodded, swallowing thickly. “So…um…remember yesterday? When you told me you’re…uh…trans?”

Something complicated flashed across Regulus’s face. “Vividly,” he said in a dull voice, body language hinting that he was close to cursing James.

“Right. Uh, right. And how I started, um–” James began, wishing he was doing anything else other than this.

“Calling me a girl? Yes, Potter, I bloody remember. Are you planning on continuing to be the most royal prick in existence or perhaps making up for your absolute arseholery at some point?” Regulus snapped. But his pink face gave away the fact that he was clearly hurt about what’d happened yesterday.

“Yes! I mean, uh–no? I mean–Reg, Sirius came to yell at me, and you need to know–I had no idea what we were talking about!” he tried to explain, feeling utterly terrified. “I mean–when you said that…I thought you meant you wanted to transition. Like…into a girl.”

Regulus froze, his crossed arms falling slowly to his sides like brown leaves in autumn. His face did something complicated, emotions flickering in his eyes as he processed James’s words. “You–wait, what?”

“I thought you were saying you wanted to be a girl. And I was like–that’s fine! I love you for you, y’know? Not for…for whatever name you use or what’s in your pants, so I was just trying to be supportive, but instead I buggered it up by being a prick, and–” James tried to explain, but Regulus cut him off.

“You love me?”

Now James froze. “Oh. Fuck,” he replied eloquently, blinking rapidly. He’d not meant to say that. Not now, anyway. “Um…yes? Yes, but I know now’s a shit time to mention that, I–fuck, I should probably just g–”

Regulus’s lips, pressing to his as the shorter boy stood on his tip-toes to claim his mouth in a kiss. 

When they separated, the Slytherin murmured. “Shut up. You’ll just make it worse, somehow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll just–”

“I love you, James.”

-

Sometimes, Regulus’s anger incapacitated him. He could not breathe, could not think. The rage overcame him, made him want to cry or scream or hit something. It was indescribable, ineffable, there were no words for the way it made him feel. This was one of those times.

Regulus had been working on his essay for a week. Normally, he could have written it in two hours. But there was far too much going on, everything seemed louder than usual, and he felt as though his brain was working so, so slowly. So, after working on this essay for a week, he felt a small, relieved sense of triumph to finally have it completed. This feeling was not long-lived, however, as Sirius came bounding over, James in tow, and accidentally knocked over Regulus’s inkwell, causing it to spill all over his essay. Regulus was not sure whether to cry, scream, or murder Sirius. Correction, he was sure he would do all three, he simply did not know in which order to do them.

“Shit, Reg, sorry,” Sirius apologised with a sheepish grin.

James, seemingly sensing Regulus’s homicidal fantasies, moved between the brothers and grabbed Regulus’s hand and the essay, moving them far away from Sirius and into his dorm.

“I’ve been working on that for a week,” Regulus shouted as he was being pulled away. At first, it was filled with anger, but the moment he and James were behind closed doors, Regulus collapsed into him, tears spilling as he mumbled, “I’ve been writing that for a week.”

James put the ink-soaked essay down on his bed-side table and sat on the edge of his bed, pulling Regulus into his lap. “I’ve got you, angel,” he said softly.

“It took me a whole fucking week to write an essay,” Regulus whispered, voice filled with anguish. “I’m going to fucking kill Sirius.”

At first, the anger was all directed at his brother. Regulus wanted to do unspeakable things to him, wanted to tear him apart. Then, he just felt hatred. Towards himself, more than anyone else. Regulus had never taken so long to complete an assignment. He felt so useless.

“We’ll sort it out, love,” James assured. “It’ll be okay. We can rewrite it.”

“I have to hand it in tomorrow,” Regulus mumbled, wanting, more than anything, to cuddle up to his boyfriend and sleep, maybe for the rest of eternity.

“Then I’ll write it for you. Won’t be as good as your one, but at least you’ll have something.” James’s hand moved under Regulus’s shirt and stroked his back comfortingly.

They ended up under the covers, Regulus’s head buried in James’s shoulder, as though trying to hide from the world, trying to hide this from James. Regulus winced and gripped James’s shirt tightly.

“What’s wrong?” James asked, because of course he had to notice, and of course he had to care.

“‘M on my period,” Regulus murmured, disdain heavy in his voice.

The sight of it made James sick to his stomach during the viewing, just as it made Sirius feel as if he were attending a stranger’s funeral, rather than his own brother’s. Regulus was just too unrecognizable—and it wasn’t only his face, it was the tombstone. The stone that was supposed to mark the place where Regulus’ body laid had not been inscribed with the right name.

Trans!regulus, back after the winter holidays, and just needing his boyfriend. emotionally, to comfort him, but most certainly physically.