Where The Starlight Ends {Starchaser}

Today's The Day!

The air in the garden was thick with the scent of late summer jasmine and old magic. Sunlight, filtered through the oak trees, dappled the white chairs where friends and family—Lupin, Pettigrew, Lily, Marlene—smiled and shifted.
The music swelled, a bright, familiar melody, and all eyes turned to the entrance.
James Potter appeared, radiant in charcoal dress robes, his arm linked firmly through the Crookshanks-yellow sleeves of his parents. Fleamont and Euphemia, their faces alight with a mixture of pride and cheerful mischief, guided their son down the makeshift aisle. James's eyes, however, were already fixed on the empty space at the front, his grin so wide it threatened to unhinge his jaw. It was a walk of warmth, of loud, undeniable love.
But back where the sunlight met the shadow of the old manor's stone archway, there stood Regulus Black.
The music was a cruel echo now, the joyous atmosphere an isolating bubble. Regulus, impeccably dressed, stood alone. His knuckles were white where he clutched a bouquet of deep green hydrangeas. He had always been quieter, smaller in the face of grand occasions, and now, without a familial anchor, the moment swallowed him whole. He bit his lip so hard he tasted copper, the sharp sting preventing the single, hot tear that was threatening to fall. This is it, he thought, the beautiful, embarrassing moment where everyone sees I am completely, utterly alone in this.
Just as the silence of his isolation became deafening, two shadows fell upon him.
"You look ridiculous," a familiar, rough voice whispered, cracking slightly with emotion.
Regulus's head snapped up.
There stood Sirius Black, magnificent and sharp in midnight blue, a stark contrast to James's warmth. And right beside him, radiating calm strength, was Andromeda Tonks, her hand already reaching out, palm open.
Sirius didn't wait for a reply, just hooked his arm around Regulus's free elbow with a protective firmness that brooked no argument. Andromeda took his other arm, her smile soft but fiercely determined.
"The two of us are walking you," Andromeda stated, her eyes promising both protection and vengeance against anyone who dared to pity him. "You've got a brother and a cousin, Reggie. You're not alone."
Regulus, no longer biting his lip, exhaled a shaky breath he hadn't known he was holding. He didn't cry. He straightened his spine, squeezed their arms tight, and took the first step.
Together, the three Blacks—the disowned, the estranged, the broken pieces of a shattered constellation—walked. It wasn't James's loud, proud march; it was quieter, imbued with the hard-won strength of survivors.
When they reached the altar, Sirius clapped James on the shoulder and kissed Regulus's temple, a fierce, silent blessing. Andromeda hugged him tight.
And then, Regulus was finally home. James reached out, capturing Regulus's trembling hand in his own warm, steady grip, pulling him into the circle of light. All the awkwardness, the fear, and the years of loneliness vanished. Regulus looked at the man he loved, and he saw not just a life partner, but the family who had waited patiently for him to arrive.
When James's hand closed around mine, it felt like being pulled from a raging sea onto warm, solid sand. His warmth was instant, radiating into my cold fingers. The tension in my shoulders, which had been winding tighter since I realized I was alone, finally began to ease. I looked up, and the entire brightly lit garden, the smiling faces, even the distant, proud silhouettes of Andromeda and Sirius, blurred into the background. There was only James.
The vows were easy. I hadn't written mine down, relying on the truth, and my voice, though low, was steady. He was my calm, my anchor, and the most fiercely loyal human being I had ever known. His vows, predictably, were loud and full of sun. He promised me adventure, warmth, and "endless snogging." I laughed, the sound rusty but real, and James's eyes crinkled in response.
The ring slid onto my finger, a heavy, cool band of white gold. When I placed the matching ring on his hand, a sense of finality—a wonderful, binding finality—settled deep in my chest.
Then came the moment.
The officiant beamed, closing the small book. "By the power vested in me, I pronounce you lawfully wedded husbands. You may kiss the groom."
James didn't hesitate. He brought his hands up to frame my face, his thumbs brushing the sharp curve of my cheekbones, and he leaned in. It was a kiss of triumph, of shared joy, and deep relief. The kiss was meant to seal the moment, and it did, sending a dizzying rush through me—a final, definitive exhale of all the fear and awkwardness I'd felt minutes before.
But when James pulled back, his usual celebratory cheer was replaced by a soft, confused concern. His bright hazel eyes searched mine, his brow furrowing slightly, his grin momentarily forgotten.
"Regulus?" he murmured, his voice hushed so that only I could hear it over the sudden applause that erupted around us. "Love, why do I taste... iron?"
My stomach clenched. I knew immediately. I'd been biting my bottom lip in that awful, exposed moment at the back of the aisle, trying to keep the tears locked down. I brought a tentative hand up and felt a slight dampness, the small cut stinging now that the adrenaline was fading.
It was such a fundamentally Regulus thing to do—to almost ruin the happiest moment of his life with a self-inflicted wound born of silent panic. I looked past James for a second, catching a glimpse of Sirius, who was crying unapologetically and clapping too hard.
Turning back to James, I saw the concern in his expression wasn't annoyance; it was pure empathy.
"Just... nerves," I admitted, leaning my forehead gently against his. The weight of the moment, the walk, the presence of my brother and cousin, it had all been too much, and the cut was the proof. "I was alone back there for a minute. And I bite my lip when I panic."
James's fingers moved from my jaw to gently cradle the back of my head, pulling me close again. "Oh, my heart," he whispered, and the profound pity in that sound undid me more than the initial panic had. "Never alone, not anymore. We're a team, Reg. I love you."
He didn't mention the blood again, didn't comment on my old, self-destructive habit. He simply kissed me once more—softly this time, carefully avoiding the tiny wound—and then, with his arm slung tightly around my waist, he turned us both toward the cheering crowd. The taste of salt and blood was instantly replaced by the warmth of James's breath, and I knew, unequivocally, that everything was going to be alright.

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1,141 words