He doesn't go back to the astronomy tower the next night. Or the night after that. Neither does Regulus. James checks. That's how he spends his free time now. Watching Regulus's name move around the map. It is absolutely and utterly pathetic. But that doesn't stop him.
"Hey, earth to Prongs?" Sirius snaps his fingers impatiently in James's direction.
James looks up from the fireplace to find his three friends staring at him.
A beat passes.
"Sorry—what?"
Sirius huffs. "Halloween party planning, care to contribute bucko?"
"I don't know," he sinks lower in his chair, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. "Can't we just do what we did last year?"
Sirius gasps. "Can't we just—are you—Remus are you hearing this?"
James is only vaguely paying attention. He knows that someone says something else, and then he hears the muffled noises of shuffling feet and closing books. Sirius doesn't start shouting again though, so he considers it a win.
Remus's face appears above him.
"Hey Moons," he says wearily.
Remus worries his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes running James over like he's a potion that's not boiling right.
"Lets go shall we?" he says eventually.
James arches his brow. "Sorry, I can't go anywhere right now. I'm in the middle of some very important work."
"Oh yeah?"
James nods, expression stern. "Mhm, someone's got to count all the cracks in the ceiling."
Remus smiles, reaching down and grabbing hold of James's wrist, "Come on you lump, lets go."
"If you're going to kidnap me at least have the decency to tell me where we're going," James notices that Sirius has retreated to the other side of the common room with Mary, Pete nowhere to be seen. Remus had clearly dismissed them.
"I'm not sure kidnappers are known for being particularly decent."
"Semantics," James mutters, allowing himself to be dragged out of the portrait hole and into the hall.
They walk in silence at first, James shoving his newly freed hands into his pockets and making a concerted effort not to look at anyone. The problem with being a generally sociable person is there's no efficient way to communicate to people to stay the fuck away from you when you're having a bad day.
"You didn't bring the cloak," James finds himself saying eventually.
"I did not. Very astute of you to notice."
James huffs out a laugh. "You going to be okay when we get detention for walking around after curfew?"
Remus taps the prefect badge on his chest, sending James a sly look.
"Ah," James says wisely. "The perks of selling out."
Remus only rolls his eyes, continuing to lead the way. The nice thing about Moony—well, one of several—is that he's not a bad person to not talk to. He's not uncomfortable with silence. He can let things be, in a way that James has never been very good at. It doesn't bother Remus that you're sad—not because he doesn't care, but because he understands that sometimes things can't be fixed. They just need to be felt.
"Snacks?" James asks as they stroll up to the painting of the bowl of fruit, Remus tickling the pear with great dignity.
"Hot chocolate," Moony corrects.
James follows him through the portrait hole, smiling. He should have guessed.
"Hello sirs!"
"How can we be of help sirs?"
"What be you needing young masters?"
At least a dozen house elves swarm them. James never gets used to it. The Potter's only have one house elf —Mimi—and she isn't anything like the Hogwarts elves. For starters, she's always giving James shit; "Oh the little master has lost both his arms I see, that is why his bed is still unmade," or "Master James seems to have lost his sight at school, that is why he cannot see the mess on his bedroom floor."
"Two mugs of hot chocolate would be lovely if you wouldn't mind," Remus says, walking towards the nearest table. "Is it ok if we stay for a bit?"
"Not at all sirs!"
"Right away sirs!"
"Will you be wanting marshmallows sirs?"
Remus turns to James, brow raised.
"Uh—yeah, sure. Thanks," he rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably as the little creatures scurry about.
"So we're staying then?" James asks as he sits down beside Remus.
Remus nods. "Figured it might help."
"Help?"
At that moment two giant mugs, overflowing with mountains of already melting marshmallows, appear in front of them.
Remus makes a pleased humming noise as he wraps his fingers around the one closest to him.
"God, I love that smell," he says happily.
James takes hold of his own mug, pressing the warm porcelain between his hands and trying to ignore the dull ache that has been sitting in his chest for the past few days.
"You don't have to tell me what's wrong," Remus says eventually, causing James to look up. His friend is lowering his mug back down onto the table, eyes soft, but he can see the concern in them. "But...but something is wrong, isn't it?"
James stares back helplessly. "I—" but nothing else comes out, a hundred words lodged in his throat. He sighs, running a hand over his face before swallowing them all back down with great difficulty. "I'm just tired," is the best he can come up with.
It's not a lie. The nightmares have made a return. Except now sometimes Regulus is the one who's screaming. And James never makes it on time.
Remus looks at him skeptically. "James, you love Halloween."
"That's because Halloween is amazing."
Remus sends him a pointed look that James chooses to ignore, becoming suddenly much more interested in his hot chocolate.
"You were barely paying attention earlier," Remus pushes on. "Usually I'd be trying to convince you and Sirius not to sneak a troll into the castle or charm the sofa cushions to growl at people."
James snorts. "Those are both excellent ideas."
"And you'd have come up with them if you hadn't been so busy sulking."
James groans, dropping his head into his hands. Part of him wants to tell Remus—is desperate to tell him. But another part of him is terrified. It was so easy, when he could keep Regulus up in that tower, away from everything and everyone else. Away from the rest of his life, so he didn't have to think about what he was doing.
"Listen, like I said, you don't have to tell me okay?" Remus says, reaching across the table and tapping his shoulder lightly, letting James know that he's there. "But the thing is, well, you're usually kind of an open book, and since not one of us has any idea what's going on with you it's thrown us for a bit of a loop," he pauses, "especially Pads."
James scrubs at his face before sitting back and meeting Remus's gaze. "He told you to talk to me?"
Remus smirks. "Please, he wanted to talk to you himself. But since he has the emotional awareness of a toddler I figured that would be completely useless."
James snorts. "Probably right."
Remus takes another sip of his hot chocolate, waiting. Waiting for James. He's never hidden anything from them before. He knows that they do—Sirius and Remus especially. He sees it sometimes, in the tight way they hold their mouthes, or drop their eyes. He doesn't mind, he knows that it's harder for them. Knows that part of his job—his role—is to be open. To be bright. To prove everything they think about the world wrong. To prove that there is good and sometimes that's enough. Sometimes the worse thing doesn't happen.
He sighs. "I—" he starts, voice going out on him almost immediately. He clears his throat and tries again. "I think I hurt someone," he swallows with difficulty. "I think I hurt someone and I don't know...fuck Remus, I don't know how to fix it."
The obvious questions—the who and the how—don't come. And James is grateful.
"Well, assuming that you didn't kill them...?" he waits for James to nod in the affirmative. "Have you tried apologizing?"
James lets out a breath. "I don't know how."
"I'm sorry is usually a good start."
"Yeah," James picks at the table. "Yeah it's just...I don't know, it—it's complicated."
When a few minutes pass without Remus saying anything James forces himself to look up. His friend is watching him thoughtfully, that little crease between his eyes he gets when he's thinking too hard. James braces himself for an onslaught of questions that he can't answer. Not right now. Maybe not ever. But he should have known better. This is Moony after all.
"Okay," the other boy says eventually. "So just talk to them then."
James looks at him flatly and Remus laughs.
"Look, despite what Sirius Black would have you believe, torturing yourself doesn't solve anything. It sure as hell doesn't do anything for the person you hurt."
His chest aches, thinking about Regulus's face, standing there, so fucking scared.
"Maybe I'm just a coward."
Remus makes a disbelieving noise. "James, you are, without a doubt, one of the bravest people I have ever met."
He rolls his eyes, but Remus isn't done.
"I swear the first years think you actually are Godric Gryffindor."
"They do not," James can't quite keep a straight face.
"Please, their eyes get so wide when you walk by I worry they're going to fall out. But," he shrugs, a smile in the corner of his mouth, "if they're gonna idolize someone, there are worse people they could have chosen."
That gets a proper laugh out of James, and Remus sips smugly at his hot chocolate before reaching across the table to squeeze his shoulder.
"Talk to them, okay?"
James nods slowly, playing with his mug for a minute before speaking again. "Listen, speaking of apologies, I've been meaning to...you know," his hand goes to the back of his neck, nervously. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable the other day, in the library."
He sees Remus's posture tense as he carefully raises his mug to his lips, taking his time. "I know."
It's late, the candles burning low as one or two of the house elves move around them, preparing for tomorrow James imagines.
"I'm sorry," he says, when Remus continues to sit there silently.
His friend lets out a breath. "I got that I—you don't need to be sorry," he says awkwardly, like his words are climbing over hurtles just to make it out of his mouth. "You didn't—I just didn't want anyone to know," those last words are almost a whisper.
James nods. "I know, and they won't." He doesn't try to convince him not worry. Not to take it so seriously. Not after the way that went last time.
"Thank you," Remus clears his throat and speaks more forcibly. "Thank you for being so...so okay. With it. With me."
And for the first time James has the smallest inkling that they may not be talking about the same thing.
"Sure," he says anyway, "of course."
They finish their hot chocolates in silence.
He has every intention of following Moony's advice. Really, he does. Except it turns out Regulus is almost constantly with people. Between classes. Between meals. At meals. He seems to specifically spend his time with Crouch and Rosier who, personally, James thinks are a particularly gross pair of companions to attach yourself to. But that's none of his business.
He spends a lot of his time trying to figure out how to get Regulus on his own and comparably little time thinking about what he's actually going to say. What he wants. Those questions are hard and twist his stomach up and if he thinks about them too long he loses his nerve. So he doesn't. He ignores them. A time tested method that has served him well in the past.
In the meantime, he is back to being fully invested in party planning.
"We'll get the booze from Rosmerta this weekend when we go into Hogsmeade," he says, running down the todo list in front of him.
"You mean Padfoot will get the booze," Peter says.
Sirius, who had been lying on his back, turns over at that, propping his head up on his hand and grinning.
"Jealous Wormy?"
Peter blushes. "I told you, I don't fancy her."
James tries and fails to smother a snort, earning him a sharp glare from Peter. "What, I'm sorry," he holds his hands up in surrender, "but you do blush every time her name is even mentioned."
"Listen, Pete, I can get you in there, she's not a complicated woman."
"Sirius, really?" Remus asks flatly. "Don't be a creep."
James sees something flicker across Sirius's face—like hurt—before he's able to mask it with a grin. "Only trying to help."
"Right, okay," James presses forward. "So booze is accounted for. Hagrid is supplying us with a shit ton of pumpkins and I'm pretty sure I've figured out how to charm the ceiling to flash with lightning and not drench us all in a torrential downpour."
"Is that why the sofas were so soggy the other day?" Peter asks.
"No comment. Moony, you've got music covered?"
"Of course."
"Hey, uh," Sirius sits up, running a hand nervously through his hair. Remus turns to him. "I have these—my uncle, he sent me these records, I don't know if you'd wanna take a look at them or..." he trails off, shrugging in a way that is oddly self-conscious. "I don't know if they're really any good. I just thought, if you were looking for something new..."
Remus blinks, holding Sirius's gaze. "Yeah, I'd like that. Maybe you can show me latter?"
Sirius nods, relaxing slightly. "Yeah cool, 'course."
James's eyes bounce between his two friends before going back to the list in front of him. "Pete, you're on snack duty."
"I'm gonna clean Honeydukes the fuck out."
"That a boy," James leans forward to punch him playfully in the arm. "That just leaves—"
"Oi James?"
Marlene appears, leaning over the back of the sofa.
"Do you have the plays we worked on yesterday? I was hoping to run over them," her eyes spot the parchment in James's hands and the three other boys around him. "Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting a plotting session?"
"We don't plot," Remus says indignantly.
"Well, I mean," Peter says, "we do plot a little."
James rolls his eyes, tossing the parchment in his hands to the side. "Yeah Mar, just give me a sec, it's upstairs."
"Trying to get on Frank's good side?" he hears Sirius ask her as he heads for the stairs.
"More like I'm trying to make sure I don't get shown up by your little brother."
It's a blessing really, that he's already around the corner at that point, because he isn't sure he manages to keep the grimace off his face.
So really, it's Marlene's fault that the first thing he does when he gets up to his room is grab the map, tapping it open on his bed and scanning for the familiar name. He's expecting Regulus to be in his room by now, it's—ten-thirty, eleven? Maybe the common room, with Crouch and Rosier.
Except he isn't. Not in either of those places.
James feels his breath hitch slightly, eyes going to the astronomy tower, but he isn't there either. Frank and Alice are though. James snorts. Good for them.
He keeps looking, not sure where else he could be. He runs every inch of the castle before he seems him.
James taps the map closed, dropping to his knees to pull the invisibility cloak out from under his bed. He'll have to come up with some excuse to explain his disappearance to the others latter, he has no idea what it'll be but he doesn't bother trying to figure it out now.
Marlene is still talking to Sirius when he gets back downstairs, Remus reading while Pete goes over the party list. James slips out the portrait hole as a fifth year girl slips in.
It's cold out, James didn't think to grab a sweater. He stashes the cloak in a spot he knows by the whomping willow before jogging down to the quidditch pitch. He sees the snitch first. Tiny and gold, blinking in the moonlight and then—out of the dark—Regulus.
James walks onto the field, watching Regulus let the ball go again, watching him wait for it to speed away before he starts doing laps around the pitch. The absolute lunatic. James considers calling up but decides against it, instead he sits down on the grass and waits.
It's incredible really, watching Regulus find his target even in the near pitch black. James only catches glimpses of him here and there, the rest of the time he blends in with the sky. Disappearing into the stars. Fitting, James thinks.
His stomach lurches a little when Regulus finally starts to come down, the calm that had washed over him while he'd been watching quickly falling away.
Regulus doesn't see him at first, landing gracefully and pausing for a moment, looking at the snitch in his hands. James waits, wondering what it is that's caught Regulus's attention and then watching as the other boy carefully slips the ball into his pocket.
"I can't believe you're stealing a snitch," James says, stepping forward.
Regulus jerks around, hand going right for his wand like it had the night James surprised him in the tower. Always ready for an attack.
Even in the dim light James can see the surprise on Regulus's face before he quickly locks it down. Expression becoming flat, unreadable. And he knows he should say something, now that they're here, knows that that was the whole point of coming. But for a minute all he can do is stare—Regulus is windswept, still breathing heavy from flying, his grey eyes filling with the moon.
Regulus drops his broom, arms crossing over his chest, same blank expression on his face. "Lovely night for some queer bashing, huh?"
James physically rears back at that—at the spite that manages to bleed into Regulus's voice despite his attempts to keep it level.
"What?"
"Don't take too long yeah? I have things to do. Oh, and if you could try not to get blood on my jumper I'd appreciate it. I'm quite fond of this one."
James is still reeling. "What—do you really think I would—" but then, then something else hits him. "Has someone done that to you?"
Regulus's mask slips ever so slightly, and even though he pulls it back James still sees. Still knows what it means. His hands curling into fists.
"Who?" the word is practically a snarl.
Regulus doesn't say anything, doesn't move.
"Who was it Reg," he takes a step forward and that seems to wake Regulus up.
"Oh leave off it," he sounds irritated. "I don't need you to defend my fucking honour Potter."
Which isn't nearly good enough. Because the idea that someone would—that they had done that, to Regulus—-
"So," Regulus's eyes run him up and down, sneering in a way that James hasn't seen in a while. "Not here to mess me up then, just here to...what? Talk?" He says the last word with a great deal of contempt. "I'd rather the beating if I'm being honest."
James is still too busy trying to get his anger under control to come up with any kind of response to that.
"I'll save you the trouble," Regulus goes on, holding his hand out over his broom and summoning it into his palm without uttering a word. "You're not a poof, you didn't even touch me. You're welcome. Now, if you don't mind, I'm tired and I want to go to bed."
The problem is, well, one of many, James thinks, is that he's not much of a planner. Sure, pranks and parties, he does alright with. Though if he's honest, that's really Moony's influence. James has always been more of a gut feeling kind of person. Act now think later.
So you see, he isn't thinking when he reaches out, frustrated with Regulus for walking away. Walking away again. For not giving him a second to breathe. Or think. Mostly he just wants him to wait. But he doesn't have a plan. He isn't thinking. He's following his gut. So when Regulus stumbles back towards him he doesn't know how his hands find their way to the other boy's face, doesn't remember deciding to move forward, to press into him. Lips crashing together.
This kiss is different. This time James feels all of it. Every inch of his body humming as Regulus opens his mouth and lets him inside. All James can think is yes.
Yes this.
Right here.
Stay right here.
Where I can keep you safe.
Regulus's nose is cold but the rest of him is still so warm and James can feel it pouring into him, filling his chest. There are universes in this kiss. It is big—gigantic. His hands slide into Regulus's hair. He smells like fall. Like quidditch.
James barely registers it at first, the hand on his chest, flat and pushing, not hard but persistent. Stubborn. Eventually forcing a space between them that James doesn't want.
Their breathing fills the quiet, their heads bowed close but no longer touching. Regulus's hand is still flat on his chest.
"No," Regulus says finally.
"No?" James instantly steps back.
Regulus shakes his head, reaching down and picking up his broom by hand this time. "I'm not doing this." He turns around and starts walking back towards the castle.
"What?" James demands, following after. "You started this!"
Regulus lets out a huff. "I didn't actually. You did. Forcing yourself uninvited and unwanted into my life. At least I was drunk, what the fuck is your excuse?"
James ignores that last question. "If you didn't want me there you would have gotten rid of me and you know it," he says, still to Regulus's back.
"I tried."
"Bullocks."
"Merlin, keep your voice down would you, I'd rather not have to deal with Filch catching us."
Which, really, Regulus should have known was a mistake.
"Oh no, wouldn't want to get in trouble. Spoil that spotless record," James purposefully raises his voice to a near shout. "It would be terrible if someone were to look out here and see two STUDENTS OUT OF BED."
"Shut up!" Regulus whips around, pulling James up short. "Christ, what is it you want Potter?"
Which is an annoying and unfair question James thinks, because quite clearly he has no idea.
"I want to talk."
"About?" Regulus demands, thoroughly exasperated.
James returns his tone. "I don't know Reg, this, us, this—what happened in the tower. Listen I—"
"No," Regulus says forcibly. "No, see this? This is exactly what I meant when I said I don't want to do this."
James falters for a moment. That Regulus hadn't meant it—hadn't meant to kiss him—hadn't crossed James's mind before now. Which he suddenly realizes is maybe a little self absorbed. Because Regulus had been drunk, and maybe he just—except the look on his face and then just now, the kiss just now. That kiss had been meant. On both sides. He was certain. Almost. Mostly. Maybe.
"I—" he drags a hand through his hair. "Okay," he says finally. "If you don't want—sorry, I should have asked before I just—" his heart is doing this weird thing where it stops every time he tries to get a word out.
And for a second Regulus seems to soften. "Oh honestly, bloody Gryffindors. I'm not—that's not what I'm saying." James just looks at him, not trusting himself to speak. "Really James, what do you want? What were you hoping to accomplish here?"
James sighs. "I don't know."
"Brilliant."
"Listen, you ask a lot of questions for someone who doesn't give a lot of answers Reg."
Surprisingly, the younger boy seems to accept that. Grey eyes intent on James. "How do you think this goes Potter? You think we're—what? Gonna walk down the corridor holding hands? Snog in the library?"
James's chest aches. "I don't know, sure, if that's what you want."
Regulus stares back at him, blinking before a cold laugh bursts out of him. "Jesus Christ," he turns away from James but doesn't start walking again, broom forgotten on the ground as he brings his hands up to his face.
They stand there for a minute, just like that, James entirely unsure of what to do with that reaction.
"You know what your problem is," Regulus says finally, turning back around. "Nobody has really fucked you up yet, and they're going to, one day, but it's not going to be me. I don't want that job, give it to someone else."
"Reg—" but he's on a roll now.
"Have you even considered how people would react—how absolutely absurd everything I just suggested is? Have you thought about—fuck, I don't know, your parents?"
Which takes James by surprise because no, he hasn't. Not at all.
"I know, I know, they're perfect and lovely and selfless, I lived with Sirius long enough to hear them praised like saints, but they're still purebloods, still from old families, and you are their only son. You really think they'll be okay with you being a poof? Or," he laughs again, all twisted and sharp, "or my brother, who may have disagreed with our parents on many things but not this."
"Reg—" James tries again, stepping closer, not entirely sure that Regulus is taking full breaths between his words.
"Which is to say nothing of the fact that the boy you have chosen to fuck everyone off over is me."
"What's wrong with you?"
He doesn't think about it, of course he doesn't, the words just coming out him. Because he means them. But for some reason those are the words that break through, the words that get Regulus to slow down for one bloody second. Not that they do anything to soften the hard look in his eyes.
"Don't act dumb James," he says finally, sounding tired. "It's beneath you."
James shakes his head, taking in a shaky breath. "Look, you're right, I haven't thought about...any of that."
Regulus exhales, looking about ready to bolt again so James talks fast.
"I just thought—listen, you want to know what I want? I want to talk to you, not just right now, but all the time. I—I miss you. I miss talking to you. I haven't been sleeping," James admits and when Regulus looks at him questioningly he explains. "I have these...nightmares. But you, I don't know, being around you, it made me feel okay again, it made me feel—fuck, safe? And you're right, my life has been easy, I know that. But I've seen enough to understand that good things are rare. And you're," he looks at him, trying to lay all the thoughts he can't articulate bare in the space between them. "You're good Reg."
The other boy just stares back at him, eyes wide, and James feels like his chest is going to burst open, his ribs aching in his skin.
"James—"
"Think about it okay?" James cuts him off, too afraid of how sad he sounds, "Come to the astronomy tower tomorrow night."
Regulus is impossibly still, a deer in the headlights, looking at James like he's never seen him before. James swallows with difficulty. He's too much, he knows he is, always has been.
Slowly, Regulus nods.
"Okay," James exhales, mostly speaking to himself. "Okay, good."
This time, when Regulus starts walking away, James doesn't try to stop him.
The wind feels colder now, James shivering as he wraps his arms across his chest. He wonders if everything will feel colder now. After Regulus.
The next day is a bit of blur. James doesn't get much sleep but thats par for the course at this point. He looks for Regulus at breakfast but doesn't see him. Marlene gives him shit about not coming back with the plays, and Sirius demands a full explanation.
"Just needed some fresh air."
"Fresh air? Is that some kind of euphemism I'm not aware of?"
James just shrugs, doing his best not to meet Remus's knowing stare.
"Prongs—"
"Hey, Sirius, don't you have to show me those records your uncle sent you?"
James sends out a silent thanks to the universe for Remus bloody Lupin.
He drags himself from class to class all day, retreating to his room when it's over and doing his best not to absolutely lose it.
"James?" Peter comes up at one point, James is lying on his bed, tossing his snitch up and down, curtains drawn. "You—uh—you okay?"
"Fine. Not feeling well."
"Oh—okay, do want something or...?"
"I just want to sleep."
"Right, right, yeah okay."
He listens as the door closes, then grabs the invisibility cloak and heads for the tower.
He waits facing the door, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He should have brought something to do—to distract him. Not that anything would have. Still.
It'll be okay, if Regulus doesn't come. It will. Better actually, probably. So. His knees bob up and down impatiently as he runs over every stupid thing he said the night before and every stupid thing he didn't say but absolutely should have. He doesn't know how he's got himself here or how something he didn't even know he wanted a week ago now feels so—so important.
He sighs, dropping his head into his hands and pulling at his hair. Fuck, he thinks, fuck, he's not coming is he? But that's okay, he reminds himself. Better even.
It's pathetic, how quickly his head snaps up when he finally hears the door open, how instantly he fills with warmth at the sight of Regulus, stiff, and uncomfortable but here. So very here. James feels himself calm for the first time all day. Because at least if he's here they can—they can deal with this. At least if he's here than James isn't in this on his own.
It's several moments before Regulus clears his throat, still standing at the door, eyeing James wearily. "No one can know."
James blinks, trying to catch up. "Okay," he says slowly.
"I mean it," Regulus pushes on. "Not my brother, not Lupin, not Pettigrew. We—whatever we do here, whatever this is, nobody knows."
James nods. "Okay. Nobody knows."
Regulus doesn't say anything else, just keeps standing across the tower, looking like he's ready to run.
"Reg," James says eventually, voice soft, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "C'mere."
It takes him a minute, so much going on behind those eyes, but eventually, eventually he moves forward. Stiff and overly studied, like he was when he was drunk. Thinking too much. Trying too hard.
He stops in front of James, grey eyes even more intense up close. And James honestly doesn't know where he gets the gaul, but he reaches up and hooks his fingers through Regulus's belt loops tugging him forward. He doesn't really think Regulus will do it, doesn't think he'll follow. But he does. Sliding onto James's lap, and—oh, oh James likes that. Aloof, proper Regulus in his lap. He runs his hands up his back, coming to hold his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks. And he sees it then, this close, sees the fear and uncertainty and softness that Regulus is always trying so hard to hide.
"There you are," he says, almost a whisper, before pulling lightly on Regulus's hair, exposing his neck. He leans in and presses his mouth to the delicate skin, feeling Regulus's pulse race as a breath punches out of him.
"You're going to be insufferable aren't you?" Regulus says. James feels the words vibrate against his mouth.
"Yes," he says between kisses. "God yes."