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This summer had been scorching hot from the very first day — so hot that not only exhausted students refused to study in stuffy classrooms, but even professors rushed to finish lectures early and send everyone back to their dorms. The few lucky souls who owned fans gathered crowds in their rooms, the pools and garden fountain were packed, and only the most heat-resistant dared to spend their free time outside under the shade of sprawling trees.
James wouldn’t call himself heat-resistant. But daily training in any weather had taught him to ignore external factors, so the blazing sun and muggy air didn’t stop him from sitting on the edge of the cool fountain, engrossed in texting his friend. Peter, damn him, had flown off to the seaside with his family and had been flooding their group chat with beach selfies for almost a week. Sirius and Remus had turned their room into a heatwave refuge because, of course, only the rich Potter and Black could afford not just a fan but a full-blown AC. So James was left alone, complaining to Peter about the weather and spamming heart emojis under his selfies.
Soon enough, though, Peter said goodbye, excusing himself with a desire to swim some more, and went offline, leaving James bored, staring at the sunlit water in the fountain and the sprawling garden trees. Under one of them sat a familiar figure — James squinted to make out the sharp features and short curls of his best friend’s little brother. Regulus sat on the grass with a book in his lap, completely absorbed. Every now and then, the corner of his lips twitched at something funny, or he mouthed words silently, fingers idly plucking at blades of grass.
James couldn’t help but smile. It was… cute. Especially considering that, from Sirius’ stories and his own observations, he’d long figured out Regulus wasn’t the type to openly show emotions.
Without giving himself even a minute to think about what he was doing, James pushed off the fountain’s marble edge and plopped down beside Regulus, who didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow at the audacity.
"Do you have a good reason for interrupting my reading, Potter?" he asked, raising a perfectly arched brow. Slowly, he reached for one of the tiny flowers scattered around, using it as a bookmark before closing the novel and looking at James with icy gray eyes.
"Nothing important. Just curious what you’re reading, Reggie," James smirked, warm mischief glinting in his eyes. He glanced at the book’s cover. "‘Pride and Prejudice’? How adorable."
Regulus’ face remained blank, but an overly attentive observer might’ve noticed the faintest blush dusting his cheeks. Only his friends — and the relentless Sirius, along with their cousins — ever called him "Reggie." He wasn’t used to it being said so softly by someone like… well, an idiot like Potter. Not planning to waste time engaging, he turned away, reopening the book—but a snarky reply slipped out anyway:
"It’s ironic you’re mocking me for reading classics when you barely glance at books yourself."
James just laughed.
"Touché, Black."
Regulus silently resumed reading, fully ignoring the uninvited company, giving James the perfect opportunity to study him up close. The aristocratic posture, straight back, legs neatly folded, dark, almost black curls, pale skin, deep gray eyes… For the first time in all the years he’d known Regulus, James actually noticed how pretty he was. Of course, it wasn’t surprising—James knew exactly how gorgeous his best friend was, and Regulus was his brother. He’d seen their cousins too — beauty was clearly a family trait. But for the first time, James wasn’t seeing "Sirius’ little brother" or "the younger Black." Just…
Just Regulus.
"Do I have something on my face, Potter?" An irritated voice snapped him out of his thoughts. James looked up, meeting Regulus’ sharp gaze, one brow raised expectantly.
James blinked, suddenly awkward under those piercing eyes. He coughed, muttering,
"N-no," his hand automatically flying up to ruffle his already messy hair. "Just—uh—actually, I was looking at that tree." He pointed at the first one he noticed behind Regulus.
Was that an ash? Or a maple? Yeah, botany wasn’t his strong suit.
"Mm," Regulus turned, eyeing the bright green leaves before looking back, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Yes, that rowan’s grown nicely the past few years."
Shifting slightly, he settled more comfortably against the tree’s roots and reopened his book, leaving James to his thoughts—which, at the moment, were entirely consumed by the realization that he’d never really looked at Regulus before. He’d only ever seen "Sirius’ brother," the one his best friend had told him about since their first year together, back in middle school, when Sirius would sneak into James’ room and spill stories about their family. Regulus rarely came off well in those stories. He and Sirius fought constantly, barely spoke, cycling through truces and arguments for years until, finally ending up at the same university, they’d called a permanent ceasefire. James only knew the story from his best friend’s side—he’d never seen Regulus the way he did now. Sitting in front of him was an unfairly attractive guy, lost in a book, turning pages with slender fingers adorned with silver rings. Sunlight caught in his dark curls—
Oh God. He was literally sitting here staring at Regulus like some lovesick idiot. James shook his head sharply, trying to stop the whirlwind of thoughts—anything to distract from the way Regulus’ lips moved silently as he read.
"If you’re going to stare, Potter, at least have the decency to say something first," Regulus’ dry tone snapped him back. A thin finger turned the page, a serpent-shaped ring glinting green.
James straightened like a scolded child, blurting the first thing that came to mind:
"Uh—so, what’s the book about?"
Regulus finally looked up.
"Pride, prejudice, and the complications of human relationships," he closed the book, tilting his head. "Have you ever read it?"
"Don’t think so," James shrugged. "Never been much of a reader." His hand found his hair again, twisting a curl. "So it’s a love story? Romance?"
Regulus’ expression softened, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Sort of. It’s not just about love—it’s about societal expectations, class divides, and misunderstandings that can ruin relationships."
James nodded slowly. He wasn’t one for deep literary analysis, but there was something intriguing about the way Regulus talked.
"Sounds… interesting," he said, voice doubtful.
"Shocked you’re interested in something that isn’t a football magazine?" Regulus smirked, reopening the book—but instead of reading, he asked, "Want me to read some to you?"
James had never agreed to anything faster. A loud "yes" tumbled out before he could stop it. Regulus nodded, cleared his throat, and began. His voice was quiet, deliberate, wrapping around James like morning mist.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…"
With every line, James fell deeper into the story. Credit went to Regulus’ skill — the way he voiced each character, the cadence of his reading, the occasional glances at James, who was leaning closer without realizing it, their shoulders nearly touching.
"Guess you do like it," Regulus paused, clearing his throat. "There might be hope for you yet."
James rolled his eyes, instinctively shifting away — suddenly hyperaware of how close they were. His brain short-circuited, cheeks burning, something fluttering in his chest every time Regulus’ lashes fluttered during an emotional passage.
"Shut up," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "Just keep going."
Unconsciously, every emotion played out on his face — lips bitten in irritation, nose scrunched, loud laughter at something funny. Regulus, hiding a smile, deliberately emphasized parts he thought would make James react. At a particularly dramatic moment, he lowered his voice, dripping with feeling:
"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and-"
James snorted, making Regulus pause, brow raised.
"He’s just saying he’s in love with her, right? Sounds way too cheesy."
Regulus choked on a laugh.
"Cheesy? James, this is one of the greatest love stories ever written! Mr. Darcy’s prideful — this confession is part of his growth!"
James chewed his lip.
"Yeah, yeah, but why ‘ardently admire’? It’s just the old-timey version of ‘wanna bang.’" He grinned at his own joke, then froze — realizing, again, how close they were.
Regulus, still smiling, seemed to notice too and quickly put distance between them.
"You’re missing the point. He’s being sincere, speaking beautifully—" He cut himself off, ears turning pink.
"Sincere? Reggie, he’s just saying, ‘I’m rich, you’re hot, so you should say yes.’"
Regulus rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him.
"You’re impossible. It’s not just about class — they’re both flawed, and it complicates everything." He met James’ smirk. "You know what? Never mind."
"Okay, okay," James held up his hands in surrender. "What happens next? Does Elizabeth say yes?"
Regulus turned the page.
"Actually, no. She rejects him — still prejudiced against Darcy. Calls him arrogant."
"Ha! Serves him right!" James crowed, delighted. "See? She didn’t fall for his money. What’s Darcy do?"
"Leaves in a huff. Shocked — he expected her to be thrilled like any other girl in her position would."
Regulus glanced at James, who was peering at the page. For a few minutes, he could study him freely — messy hair, red shirt unbuttoned one too many buttons, a sun pendant dangling — before James finally looked up.
"Good for her," he declared. "Which character do you think you’re most like?"
That was the last question Regulus expected, but he humored it, twisting a ring.
"Well, I’d probably be…" James cut in, "Mr. Darcy. Proud and misunderstood — but I’d change for someone I loved. Listen to their complaints, try to be better."
Regulus caught himself smiling, imagining James in 19th-century finery.
"I think I’m like Elizabeth," he murmured. "I like her independence. And I’d tell off anyone I disliked, money be damned."
James laughed — but the mental image of Regulus scowling, calling him an "arrogant rich prick," made him choke, covering his mouth.
Regulus raised a brow, and James plastered on a grin, hand in his hair.
"I… Thanks for this," he gestured vaguely at the last few hours. "At the breakfast Remus said we gotta clean the room today, so… I should go."
His cheeks burned. Heart pounding, tongue tied. Regulus studied him but only nodded.
"Thanks to you too."
"Right, so…" James stood, brushing himself off. "See you, Reggie."
"See you, James." Stars danced in Regulus’ eyes.
Neither knew when "see you" would be. James didn’t know why he’d said it. Regulus didn’t know why he’d echoed it.
***
The next few days were… weird. Full of unexpected thoughts, realizations, feelings. When James returned to the dorm, meeting Sirius’ raised brow over his third ice cream of the day, he just grinned, brushing off his absence with "went for a swim in the fountain, no joke, try it" before burying himself in an essay.
The thoughts attacked at the worst time — bedtime. The second James closed his eyes, Regulus materialized: dark curls framing sharp features, brows slightly furrowed despite the ghost of a smile. His smiles were always like that — hidden unless you looked close enough to catch the warmth in his eyes. Regulus didn’t show emotions — he let you find them. And James wanted to find every single one, trace them in every gesture, every glance.
Oh God. Oh no. Was he—?
The second his mind wandered to the softness of Regulus’ lips, James squeezed his eyes shut until the image dissolved into color blobs.
He was screwed. So screwed.
James had never thought of Regulus like this. First, he was his best friend’s little brother. Second, for years, Regulus had acted like he’d rather die than acknowledge him. Third… He had no idea when the switch flipped — when "hanging out" became "wanting to kiss."
And he couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Sirius? Hell no. Remus? Would tell Sirius immediately. Peter was off enjoying the sea, and James needed to figure this out now.
Adjusting his fogged-up glasses, he stood from the curb he’d been sulking on, cold coffee in hand. His next class was postponed, so he’d planned to wander the mall, wallowing in his existential crisis — until his gaze landed on something familiar.
Under the same sprawling tree, Regulus sat reading. The same book.
The second slender fingers turned the last page, James crossed the distance in a few strides, dropping beside him. This time, they were closer — thighs almost touching, hands inches apart on the grass.
"Reggie," James flashed his best grin, delighted by the warmth in Regulus’ eyes.
"James," Regulus nodded.
This time, it wasn’t "Potter." Internally, James did a backflip. A quick glance at the book, and he couldn’t resist:
"How’d it end?"
Starlight blinded him — Regulus tilted his head, leaning closer.
"Hm?"
"The book," James’ hand found his hair, grinning to mask his blush. "Did Darcy fix himself?"
"Actually," Regulus nodded, about to reopen it — but James stopped him.
"Tell me yourself."
If someone asked why he wanted to hear it in Regulus’ words rather than read it (no matter how gorgeous his voice made the text), James wouldn’t have an answer. Maybe he just wanted to listen to Regulus all day, until the sun dipped below the horizon, replaced by moonlight and stars.
But he’d still be looking at the brightest one. Right beside him. Close enough to touch.
"Potter, why ask if you’re just gonna space out?" Silver rings clicked in front of his face. James shook himself.
"Sorry, sorry, I’m listening," he shifted, getting comfortable.
Regulus huffed and began, setting the book aside. His quiet voice wrapped around them, pulling James into the story. He tried so hard to focus — not let his thoughts spiral. Regulus spoke like the story mattered. Like it wasn’t just words on a page. They’d skimmed the topic last time — maybe James wasn’t the only one who’d been thinking about it.
"...and Mr. Darcy said he fell for Elizabeth’s lively mind," Regulus finished, clearing his throat. James met his gaze.
"Guess we are alike," he mumbled, lost in dark curls. Today, Regulus’ hair was messier than usual, begging to be combed through, fingers threading gently. "I’d want to change for someone I cared about. Like he did."
"And who would that someone be?" Regulus hummed, voice softer. "Elizabeth Bennet?"
James held his gaze a beat too long before smirking, studying the clouds.
"Not necessarily her," his fingers brushed Regulus’ reaching for the same flower. He flinched, rushing to add, "Just.. Someone smart and independent. Who’d put up with me."
"So someone like her," Regulus licked his lips but didn’t pull his hand away.
"Yeah, I guess," James shrugged. "Someone who’d call me out if I was being an idiot. Make me work to be better — not just ‘fall at my feet’ because I’m—" He wiggled his brows for effect, "—a charming, handsome man?"
Laughing at his own joke, he expected a retort — but Regulus was quiet, thoughtful. The words spilled out before James could stop them:
"Someone who’d challenge me. Make me want to be better." He couldn’t look away from Regulus, not even realizing how it sounded. "Someone like…"
Someone like Regulus. That’s exactly who he was describing — unreachable and independent, but with a whole world hidden inside, waiting to be discovered. His cheeks burned, heart pounding.
"Hypothetically," he muttered, hoping it didn’t sound as obvious as it felt.
"Hypothetically," Regulus echoed.
James glanced down — and something inside squeaked at the smile on Regulus’ lips. A happy smile. The way he looked at James didn’t match his usual cold demeanor. Now, sunlight danced in his eyes, his voice laced with something dangerously close to flirting. It did things to James’ stomach.
"Shut up," he coughed, scrambling for composure.
Regulus just smirked, straightening. Their fingers weren’t touching anymore, but the lingering glances were enough to make James melt.
"Make me," Regulus raised a brow, waiting for a comeback.
What comeback could there be when all James could think about was the curve of Regulus’ lips? Two words, and they sounded like a spell.
For the first time, James was speechless, just staring at the amusement in those gray eyes.
"You’re just… too mouthy," he finally managed, tugging Regulus’ sleeve.
If he noticed the way Regulus shivered, biting his lip, he didn’t mention it.
"I’ve always been like this," Regulus huffed, pulling his arm back. "You just never noticed."
"Oh, I noticed," James dropped his voice, teasing. His gaze flicked to dark curls, pink cheeks, then back. "Believe me."
Regulus’ lips parted, unaware of how irresistible that was.
"Mhm. And what does Mr. Observant plan to do about it?"
"Depends what you’d want me to do."
A brow arched. Regulus laughed.
"Who said I want you to do anything?"
Part of James was disappointed he couldn’t flirt like a normal person. The other part short-circuited every time Regulus smiled or licked his lips. He usually knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted — but with Regulus, nothing was guaranteed. Regulus was the one in control, keeping James teetering between intrigue and rejection.
"Maybe because I want to?"
"And what do you want to do, James?" Regulus leaned in, suddenly too close for rational thought.
James’ face was redder than the roses by Sirius’ bed. Suddenly, boldness took over — his hand moved on its own, cupping Regulus’ chin as he whispered:
"Something like this…"
And before either could overthink it, James closed the distance, lips brushing Regulus’ in a soft, questioning kiss.
One second. Two. Three—
Regulus’ shocked gasp melted into a hesitant press back—an answer.
James tightened his grip, kissing harder, more sure. Regulus felt uncertain, restrained — and all James wanted was to pull him closer, kiss him deeper, make him understand.
Then Regulus wrenched away, eyes wide, breathing ragged. He touched his lips.
"What the hell… was that?" Not angry. Just stunned.
James looked just as lost, hands hovering. He hadn’t planned this — not like this, not yet—
"I—"
Regulus waited, but James just stared, speechless.
"What?" His voice cut sharp, angry. Stormy eyes hid something vulnerable.
James opened his mouth — but nothing came out. He just looked, helpless. His hand found his hair, but Regulus’ jaw only clenched tighter.
"Did you just—kiss me because you were bored? Or—or thought it’d be funny?"
"No, none of that—" James finally found his voice. "I kissed you because I wanted to."
Regulus stared, unreadable. His eyes searched James’ face — then, slowly, the storm faded to twilight.
"Wanted to…"
"Yeah. Wanted to," James suddenly needed him to understand, even if he didn’t fully get it himself. "Not as a joke, not to mess with you — just because. Okay?"
"Okay," Regulus said, oddly calm. Then, barely audible: "…Would you like to do it again?"
"Yeah," James squeaked, surging forward.
This time, Regulus met him halfway. The kiss was still soft but surer. An eternity later, they broke apart, breathless.
"Fuck. Oh fuck, Potter," a dazed whisper.
James laughed softly, studying Regulus — messy hair, swollen lips. Always composed, now he looked wrecked by a few kisses.
"What?" Regulus scowled, defensive.
James just smiled — bright, happy, like staring at the sun. He reached out, tucking a stray curl behind Regulus’ ear.
"Nothing," he said. "Just… you look different."
"Shut up, Potter," flushed cheeks betrayed him. No bite left — just embarrassment.
James bit back a giddy laugh. Regulus looked adorable, so unlike himself, the usual coldness replaced by something warm and fragile.
"Y’know…" he mused.
"Hm?" Regulus glanced away. A blink, and the mask was back — cool indifference.
Instead of poetry or confessions, James dropped his voice, leaning in:
"For someone trying not to look at me right now, you were pretty into those kisses."
Regulus’ brows furrowed as he turned, glaring at the smirk. For a second, he looked ready to snap — but all that came out was:
"Shut up."
"Make me," their lips almost brushed, a challenge. Regulus gritted his teeth — and James was sure he’d give in.
Then fingers yanked him forward, and their mouths crashed together — rough, desperate, nothing like before. It was messy, needy, all raw feeling and zero restraint.
"Shut up," Regulus mumbled against his lips, tangling fingers in his hair.
James kissed back just as fiercely — biting, gasping. The anger in Regulus’ movements was hot, and James stopped thinking, just felt.
"Think you’re so clever?" Regulus pulled back, panting. He’d practically climbed into James’ lap, hands braced against the tree on either side of his head. Before James could answer, he snarled, "Think you can just kiss me and that’s it? Be all charming, witty —think I’d just fall for you?"
"So you do think I’m charming?"
Regulus made a sound of outrage, fisting James’ collar, dragging him closer until their noses brushed.
"You — You’re an arrogant prick, you—" But instead of finishing, he kissed him again, hard.
James matched him — hands sliding to his neck, pulling him flush. Neither held back, too lost in the heat, the push-and-pull.
Thoughts swirled in his mind "His lips are so soft—" before Regulus bit down, "He’s so strong—" before Regulus yanked his shirt hard enough to tear.
They kissed and kissed, insatiable, until neither could breathe.
"Fuck," Regulus tore away, gasping. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"
After a few shaky breaths, he scrambled up, scanning a dazed James head-to-toe before turning on his heel and bolting toward the dorms.
"Holy shit…" James exhaled, watching him disappear.
Regulus had the weirdest post-kiss reaction of anyone he’d ever kissed.
***
"Jaaames, there you are," Sirius lifted his head from Remus’ lap, where he’d been reading. "What’ve you been up to?"
"Nothing much. Reading in the courtyard." James held up Regulus’ forgotten book. All he could think about was how to approach Regulus now — what to even say. Or maybe say nothing, just find him under that tree again and—
"Mm-hmm," Sirius drawled, standing, suddenly right in his face with a scowl. "Since when is ‘making out with my best friend’s little brother’ shortened to ‘reading in the courtyard’?"
Holy shit.
Judging by Sirius’ glare and the finger jabbing his chest, he’d said that out loud.