Chapter Text
It’s 7:30 AM on a Tuesday morning, and Regulus Black is seriously fucked.
Wait. Shit. He didn’t mean that. Sigh. Cue the onslaught of mental images of his older brother, eyes alight with opportunity. Regulus can practically hear him say “no, he’s siriusly fucked” with a dramatic gesture to his moonshine moonbeam moonwhateverthefuckheis, causing Lupin to flush crimson and grin like the lovesick idiot he is.
Disgusting. The both of them.
The thought of his older brother instantly fills Regulus with a dull ache, as it has for the past eleven years, so he quickly shoves the thought deep into the box where he buries everything he doesn’t wish to deal with. The thing about Regulus Black is that he chooses to ignore his problems until they either go away or blow up in his face.
Anyway, it’s 7:30 AM on a Tuesday morning, and Regulus Black is undeniably fucked. The thing is, eleven years ago, when James Potter and his sickeningly pretty redhead joyously announced that they were having a child, Regulus felt his heart break for what he swore would be the last time.
It shouldn’t have hurt that bad; James wasn’t his anymore anyway. He had no right to be heartbroken, but he was. Oh, he was. It hurt. Fuck it hurt.
Worse than when his mother told him she would never love him. Worse than when his father wished him dead. Worse than when his older brother ran away and left him in the flames of their burning house. Worse than when he told James they were over. This was worse. Because this time it was permanent.
When his parents decided they hated him, he could kid himself that they could change their minds. When his brother abandoned him, he could lie to himself and say he was coming back. When he told James to leave, he could hope that James would stay. But this time, there was no hope. James had a kid. A kid for fucks sake.
A kid who was leaving Regulus undeniably fucked.
Fuck.
When Albus Dumbledore offered Regulus the job of Potions teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Regulus can say he was genuinely shocked. As Dumbledore had tended to neglect the Slytherins and had never so much as offered Regulus a smile during all his time at Hogwarts, Regulus had honestly assumed Dumbledore hated him. Or, at the very least, didn’t care that he existed.
However, it was widely known that a job at Hogwarts was about as cushy of a job as one could get, and Regulus wasn’t about to let a petty childhood grudge hold him back, so he took the job.
For six years, everything has gone well. For six years, Regulus Black has been a widely respected (and possibly slightly feared) Potions teacher. For six years, he has kept all images of James Potter as repressed as humanly possible. Until today.
Well, more accurately, until yesterday evening, when Regulus was sitting at the professor's dinner table minding his own business, perfectly content, when in walked heartbreak. Heartbreak in the form of an eleven-year-old boy with silver wire-rimmed glasses, absurdly messy black hair, and a smile that could light up the goddamn night. Oh, and green eyes. Don’t forget the green eyes.
Fuck.
Of course, Regulus knew that Harry Potter would be starting Hogwarts this year, but knowing is a lot different than seeing. And seeing fucking hurts.
No matter, this changes nothing. It will be fine. Perfectly fine. Regulus just has to make it until Harry graduates, and then he never has to think of James Potter and his stupid perfect face, and his stupid perfect kid, and his stupid perfect life ever again. Which means he only has to hold out for the next… seven years. Fuck.
…
Regulus wakes up early. He hates waking up early, but it’s the first day of school, and he’ll be damned if he’s anything less than entirely prepared.
He hides under the covers for another five minutes, trying to psych himself up into dragging himself out of bed. Eventually, he works up the courage and pulls his body up, grimacing as his feet hit the cold wood floor.
If only his fifteen-year-old self could see him now, still living at Hogwarts and still losing sleep over the one and only James bloody Potter. He probably would have just gone and drowned himself in the Great Lake. It would’ve spared him a lot of heartbreak.
Honestly, that’s not such a bad idea. Perhaps he’ll go do that now…
“Reggie!” A lilting voice calls through the door, interrupting his ever-darkening train of thought. “Up, up, up. We don’t want to be late for our first day, now do we?”
“I can’t go. I’m sick.” He groans at the door.
‘You’re not sick. Well, at least not physically.” She murmurs.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He cries, offended.
“Well, you do seem rather mentally sick on the occasion. Or perhaps it's the nargles.” She muses as she opens his door and steps through.
“Dora, I can’t do this. Have you seen him? He looks just like him.” Regulus sighs.
“Mm,” Pandora hums. “Except for the eyes, he has-”
“Evans’ eyes. Believe me, I know.” Regulus interrupts.
“Come on, darling, get ready. At least Luna will be in your class too. She adores you, you know.” Pandora adds lovingly.
“Yeah, I know. I adore her too.” Regulus sighs with a small smile. “Fine. Get out, I need to get dressed.”
“I knew you’d see reason.” Pandora beams as she steps towards the door, her long platinum hair swinging behind her. She stops at the door and turns back to face him, her hand clinging to the frame. “You know I’m always here for you, right darling?” She asks.
“Yeah, I know. Thank you, Dora. Really, I mean it.” Regulus says sincerely.
“I love you, Reggie.”
“Ugh, I hate it when you call me that.” He groans, ducking his head into his hands.
“I know.” She smirks. “Reggie?”
“Yes?” He asks, looking up at her.
“I love you.”
“Love you too, Dora.” He gives her a soft smile.
She beams at him, and then she’s gone, the door swinging shut behind her. He promptly flings himself back onto the bed, groans, and curses the day he ever laid eyes on James Potter. But oh, what a day it was.
…
It was early September, and the air was brisk. Regulus, who had left the house in a hurry that morning in a futile attempt to avoid his mother’s wrath, had forgotten a coat. The muggle jumper and trousers he was dressed in to avoid any suspicious stares as he made his way to platform 9 ¾, were nowhere near warm enough to compensate for the sudden drop in temperature that was out of the ordinary for this early in September.
Needless to say, Regulus was shivering by the time he made his way onto the train.
“Hurry up, Reggie!” Sirius called impatiently. Apparently not wanting to wait any longer, he reached out, grabbed Regulus by the wrist, and dragged him towards a compartment.
As they reached the compartment door, Regulus felt his feet still. He didn’t belong here. These were Sirius’ friends, not his. But, with no friends of his own and no alternative choice, he glanced around apprehensively and then followed Sirius inside. He plopped down by the window and looked out, pointedly ignoring the confused stares of the three other boys who were currently occupying the compartment.
“Boys,” Sirius called out, beaming. “Meet my baby brother.”
Regulus grimaced at the term.
“Oh, you must be Reggie!” An enthusiastic voice called. “It’s lovely to finally meet you. Sirius talks about you all the time.”
Regulus turned to find a boy with wire-rimmed glasses and dark hair that currently looks like it’d have to have been shocked with electricity to make it stand up in the absurdly unruly manner that it did. Regulus had the sudden compulsion to run his fingers through it and try to flatten it down. Odd.
The boy was holding his hand out to Regulus, clearly waiting for him to shake it, and had a massive, lopsided grin on his face. And he was pretty. The kind of pretty that made Regulus’ head spin for a moment. Odd.
Regulus glanced down at the hand and then back up at the boy, leaving his own hands clasped neatly in his lap.
“Your hair is a mess.” He told the boy bluntly.
“Reggie!” Sirius hissed
But the boy’s grin only widened.
“And yours is perfect.” The pretty boy told him earnestly.
Regulus felt his face heat up and swiftly turned to stare out the window as the train began to lurch forward.
“Oi, James, mate, tell me about your summer. Practice a lot of Quidditch?” Sirius asked, directing the conversation away from Regulus.
Regulus lost the reply as he focused on the name. James.
James.
James.
James.
“Hey, you alright, mate?” A warm voice called several minutes later, dragging Regulus from his reverie.
Regulus looked up and found himself face to face with a tall boy with brown curls framing his scarred face and wearing a ratty, knitted jumper with sleeves that covered most of his hands. The boy smiled at him carefully, and Regulus found himself smiling back.
Regulus didn’t choose to answer his question and instead asked one of his own.
“Good book?” He asked, nodding to the book clasped in the boy’s hands.
“Yeah!” The boy beamed excitedly, as though no one had ever taken an interest in his reading before.
Regulus, who hated talking but didn’t want Sirius’s friend to think he was rude, saw an opportunity and jumped at it.
“Tell me about the book.” He told the boy and watched his face light up again.
The boy began chattering excitedly about his story, and Regulus listened contentedly, saying nothing but nodding and humming in all the right places. When the story was over, the boy sat back and then suddenly looked up at him again.
“Oh, I’m Remus, by the way. Remus Lupin.” The boy smiled shyly.
Regulus nodded at Remus and gave him a soft smile before they both looked away. Regulus decided there and then that he liked this boy. Perhaps they could be friends.
Regulus leaned his head back against the seat and looked over to find James watching him with a look on his face that Regulus couldn’t quite decipher. James grinned immediately as soon as Regulus caught him staring, and the smile sent a shockwave through Regulus’s bones that caused him to shiver unconsciously.
“Are you cold?” James asked him with a concerned look on his face.
“I’m fine.’ Regulus mumbled, casting his eyes downward and gluing them to the floor.
“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?” Sirius scolded him.
“I forgot.”
“How could you forget a jacket? It’s bloody freezing out today.” Sirius asked him, bewildered.
“I don’t know. Mum was already angry, and I didn’t want to make her more upset by asking to go get a jacket, so I didn’t.” He stated it matter-of-factly.
“Why would your mum get mad at you for not wanting to freeze to death?” The boy, whom Regulus vaguely knew was called Phillip, or Patrick, or something, asked. No, it definitely wasn’t Patrick.
Sirius glared at Not-Patrick, and he shrank back in his seat.
“Sorry,” Not-Patrick mumbled, looking at Regulus guiltily.
“S'alright, Peter.” James soothed Peter, placing a comforting hand on his knee.
Regulus scowled at the contact, then immediately stopped when he realized how absurd of a response that was to someone you just met touching their friend.
“So, are you?” James asked, staring intently at Regulus.
Regulus’ mind blanked instantly under the intensity of James’ hazel eyes.
“What?” He asked stupidly.
James laughed softly, and the sound thawed Regulus from the inside out and compelled him to smile too, even though he had no idea what could possibly be funny.
“Cold.” James smiled sweetly. “Are you cold?”
“I’m okay.” He shrugged.
James stared at him, unconvinced. The staring continued for several seconds too long, and Regulus shifted uncomfortably under the heavy weight of his eyes.
James shifted suddenly and began stripping the crimson jumper from his body. He pulled it off over his head, exposing the tiny strip of skin between his trousers and his long-sleeve shirt as he lifted his arms. Regulus felt his heart in his throat and tried unsuccessfully to tear his eyes away from where he was staring at James far too intently.
James stuck his arms through the sweater, pulling it so it was no longer inside out, and carefully reached across to hand it to Regulus, who stared at it stupidly.
“Here. Take it.” James prompted gently.
“Won’t you be cold?” Regulus asked dumbly.
“Nah,” James chuckled softly. “Mum always says I have fire in my blood, so I run warm. I’m hot, anyways.” He shrugged.
That you are. Regulus thought. Wait, what?
Regulus felt his cheeks warm and cursed himself internally, as he knew they were likely flushed with pink at this point.
“Thank you,” Regulus mumbled, and he took the sweater as he seemed to have no other option at this point.
He pulled the jumper over his head and found it to be several sizes too big, although it only appeared mildly oversized on James. The sweater itself was crimson with a thick yellow-gold strip that ran horizontally across the chest. Gryffindor colours; Regulus noticed, grimacing. Regulus wondered momentarily if James would hate him once he was sorted into Slytherin, as he knew Sirius undoubtedly would.
He hoped not.
The jumper is so warm that Regulus found himself wondering if James actually does have fire in his blood. He laughed softly aloud at the thought and found himself at the end of four confused looks.
“It’s big.” He shrugged lamely.
“Looks good on you,” James smirked.
Sirius whacked him on the back of the head, and James sputtered, pink tinting his cheeks.
Regulus doesn’t know if it’s possible for his own cheeks to turn any more red than they already are, but if it is, they do.
Regulus ignored the playful bickering that Sirius and James were partaking in and leaned his head back against the seat, gazing out the window. He stayed that way, wrapped in warmth and perfectly comfortable, until the train reached the castle.
…
Regulus rummages in his trunk, digging all the way to the bottom before his hands find what he’s looking for. A knitted crimson jumper with a yellow-gold stripe across the chest. Regulus has cast charms on it, so it will never grow threadbare, and he will never outgrow it.
He pulls the fabric to his face and inhales deeply. Much to his dismay, it stopped smelling like the boy who gave it to Regulus years ago. But Regulus has kept it all these years.
The jumper is the only thing he’s allowed himself after he didn’t allow himself to keep the pretty boy in question. He let James go, but for some reason, he can’t seem to let go of this goddamn jumper.
He’s held it to his chest as he sobbed himself to sleep, alone in his cold bed. He’s worn it to visit his parents, locked away in their wooden boxes six feet under the earth. He’s thrown it across the room in fits of bitter rage as he cursed his family for never loving him. Cursed Sirius for leaving him. Cursed James for loving him. Cursed himself for breathing.
Regulus takes one last deep breath and then shoves the jumper back in his trunk. He will deal with these emotions later. Actually, he probably won’t.
He wonders again if drowning himself in the Great Lake would be preferable to walking into that classroom and having to teach James Potter’s carbon copy. Perhaps the giant squid wouldn’t be such bad company.
He sighs to himself and drags his feet down the hallway. He steps into his classroom, turning on the lights with a flick of his wand.
He’s already prepped the lesson, so now all that’s left to do is sit and wait.
Students begin to file in, and Regulus can feel his heart hammering in his throat.
Another one? Regulus thinks to himself as a redheaded boy walks in, one that could only belong to Molly and Arthur Weasley. That train of thought is immediately halted when a bushy-haired girl walks in, followed by a boy with a shock of dark hair and glasses.
Fuck.
Get a grip, you idiot. You cannot be scared of an eleven-year-old. That’s pathetic. Regulus tells himself. This does nothing to calm the thumping of his heart as the students take their seats.
“Hello, Uncle Reg.” A charming voice snaps him out of his daze.
“Hello, Lunar Eclipse.” He grins at the blonde girl in front of him.
“I’m not supposed to tell you this,” She leans in towards him. “But mum told me that I am supposed to make sure you don’t run away,” she whispers conspiratorially.
Regulus rolls his eyes immediately before he remembers where he is and stops.
“Well, Luna, you can tell your darling mother that I will not be going anywhere.” He tells her confidently.
She hums in approval and grins at him before turning and taking her seat.
He straightens up and sets his shoulders before standing to address the class. He opens his mouth to begin his speech and instantly green eyes meet his, and Regulus feels eleven again, wearing a crimson sweater. He feels sixteen again, kissing James Potter in the quidditch locker room. He feels eighteen again, laughing with James’ arms wrapped around him as they plan their forever together. He feels nineteen again, lying and telling James Potter that he doesn’t love him anymore, and watching his heart shatter. He feels twenty again, Sirius telling him that James and Lily are having a kid together, and feeling his own heart shatter.
Again.
Green eyes meet his, and he is reminded of everything he could’ve had if he hadn’t run away. Green eyes meet his, and all he can think about are the kids he and James were going to raise together. Green eyes meet his, and suddenly he can’t breathe.
Fuck.