bottle - jegulus - cw: implied past shit parents - @jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic - word count: 523 - inspired by a song, guess which one!
It’d all happened so fast.
One moment, they’d all been talking and laughing, the mood warm and inviting, Regulus actually feeling like things were going well.
He’d been so stupid. He hadn’t paid attention as he was pouring himself another glass of wine, dropped the bottle as he glanced up to smile softly at James, and all of a sudden red was seeping into the white of the tablecloth, staining every stitch.
Echoes of his parents’ yells in his head, his own mind telling him that this was it, he;d fucked this up, they were done, he’d run–outside to the back garden, shaking and furious with himself.
Stupid, idiot, disappointment.
James’s voice did little to calm him. He just stared out at the horizon, arms wrapped around himself, wondering how long James would take to do this–to yell and possibly leave him.
He was a bit shocked to realize there were tears on his own face, even as James gently wiped them off.
“What?” he asked softly, hating himself for the defensiveness in his tone.
“Are you hurt? Did you break the glass or something?” James asked, eyes roving nervously over his face, his hands.
He shook his head, eyes cast downward.
“Okay…okay…” the Gryffindor nodded, giving him an encouraging smile. “That’s good. Love, you know they’re not mad, right? It was an accident. You did nothing–”
“I ruined the tablecloth,” he forced out, jaw tight. No magic would ever completely get red wine out of white linen, he was sure. Fuck, he could see his mother’s anger in his mind’s eye. Her wrath when he or Sirius had done something similar in the past. How angry was Euphemia? Would she ever invite Regulus back again?
He started at James’s answer, looking up at him incredulously. “So?” he repeated, almost angry. “It’s…it’s your mother’s! I ruined it! I can’t–”
But James just smiled softly at him, cupping his cheek. “Love. We can get another. What, you think she’ll get mad over that? Were you not listening to the story she just told about the time when I set her hair on fire?” he asked, expression gentle but stern. “She’s raised me for almost eighteen years, baby. You’ve got to do a lot more than that to even make her blink.”
He swallowed, taking this in, unable to believe it was true. “She’s not…mad?”
James gave him another smile. “She’s just worried. Wants you back inside, it’s cold.”
He realized for the first time that it was actually a bit cold. “Oh.”
“C’mon. I promise, love, nobody’s mad,” the taller boy said, taking his hand and guiding him inside.
When they got back to the dining room, all Effie did was pull him into a hug, press a glass in his hand, and say, “Oh, Regulus, there you are! Have I ever told you about the time James got a bucket stuck on his head when he was three?”
James’s good-natured protests washed away any more of Regulus’s nerves, making him smile and relax back into his chair.
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