Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I have died every day waiting for you 
Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years 
I'll love you for a thousand more. 

And all along I believed I would find you 
Time has brought your heart to me 
I have loved you for a thousand years 
I'll love you for a thousand more. 

Chapter Text

There were some battles that were pointless fighting against. Regulus Black was well aware of that. If the outcome was futile, why waste energy engaging in pointless conflict? This was of course referring to the unexpected uprooting of Regulus’ life that had been completely decided by his mother, Walburga Dwyer (previously Walburga Black). Walburga was a strict woman, cultivated and obsessed with the so-called ‘Toujours Pur’, Black old family motto that Regulus completely detested. She was calculative, never laughing (unless Phil was present) and a bit crazy and always serious. But more importantly, from what Regulus could see, Walburga was in love with her new husband Phil Dwyer.

Regulus hardly ever saw his stepfather, as he was a minor league baseball player, he spent the majority of his time away. Regulus had no opinions on Phil— he was barely around so other than a few encounters when he started dating his mother, Regulus hardly knew him as a person. Even though his mother never showed it, Phil’s constant absence bothered her— she wanted to be with him but instead stayed at home to tend her son.

Regulus and his mother never really had a close relationship. She had always preferred his older brother Sirius, who had passed away several years ago when Walburga and Orion (his father) had divorced. Sirius had been 10 years older than him and despite not sharing the same father, he and Regulus had shared a very close bond, a bond which had been broken when his parents divorced and Regulus moved to Phoenix Arizona with his mother, where then she met Phil and got married to him.

Regulus knew why his mother preferred his brother over him, it was quite simple. Regulus was a quiet person that never spoke unless spoken to. He was a nerd, hostile and always had his nose in a book or was critiquing those whom he deemed inferior. Walburga and Regulus hardly ever talked to one another if it wasn’t the occasional ‘good morning’ or the typical ‘pass the salt’ phrase during lunch or dinner. But despite their differences, Regulus loved his mother—he would always love her—so, not wanting her to suffer because of him, Regulus had a proposal to give.

“I have an idea,” Regulus said, with his voice exceptionally humid in the afternoon of Arizona.

His mother paused the TV, her gaze lifting just over his shoulders as she spotted him.

“Go on,” she replied, studying his body language. Regulus could feel as his mother watched him closely as his eyes flickered around the room to avoid staring at Walburga in the eye.

Regulus shifted his weight from one leg to the other and tucked his dark brown hair behind his ear. Regulus noted that the two of them talking to one another was so rare that not only was it making him physically uncomfortable but also his mother—as if she were talking to a stranger.

“I, uh, think I should move in with Orion,” Regulus did not want to beat around the bush. “Mother, you’ve clearly been missing Phil like crazy and you haven’t been married that long, you know, so you should be able to spend more time together. I think, no I know, that you want to travel with him but you feel like you would leave me behind. What do you think?”

A couple of second passed before Walburga simply said “Okay,” before she resumed watching the TV. Regulus could sense that it didn’t matter to his mother whether she agreed or not with his ‘proposal’, after all he wasn’t really asking for her permission, he just wanted her opinion. That made it clear to his mother that no matter what she said, Regulus was still going to go live with Orion whether he liked it or not, (he didn’t). Plus, he could see that his mother was very much happy and wanting to leap at the opportunity to be with her new husband, who she was utterly infatuated with.

That was the last time Regulus and Walburga spoke to each other for a while—again, it wasn’t that they hated each other (maybe a bit from Regulus’ side) or had bad blood, they just simply didn’t have anything to talk about and neither one chose to take the initiative.

The weeks dragged along and Regulus found himself on his way to Forks, Washington, where his father, Orion Black lived.

His mother drove him to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-eight degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. Regulus was wearing his favourite clothes— a navy blue t-shirt with a sleeveless jumper on top. Regulus was wearing it as a farewell gesture.

In the Olympic Peninsula of north-west Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that Regulus’ mother escaped with him when he was only 7 years old. It was in this town that he’d been compelled to spend a month every summer until he was fourteen. That was the year Regulus finally put his foot down; these past three summers, his dad, Orion, vacationed with Regulus in England and France for a month instead. Orion used to say that it was so he would not forget his roots. The Black family was French but most of it’s member lived in England, that’s why despite the years passing by, Regulus still had a mixture of a French and English accent when he spoke.

It was Forks that Regulus now exiled himself—an action that he took with great horror. He detested Forks. He loved Phoenix. He loved the sun and blistering heat. He loved the vigorous, sprawling city. Regulus despite his pale appearance preferred Phoenix over Forks at all times.

“Regulus,” his mother said to him —the last of a thousand times— before Regulus got to the plane, she seemed worried and that kinda surprised him. His mother never really expressed herself around him, something that Regulus also made his own habit. “You don’t have to do this.”

Regulus’ mother looked like him, except with long hair and some laugh lines. Regulus felt a spasm of panic as he stared at his mother wide, childlike eyes. How could he leave his dearest, loving, strict and cold mother to fend for herself? (Regulus really could not wait to leave, a part of him was tired of being kept in his mother clutches, he loved her but he couldn’t stand her). And of course she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car —Regulus still doesn’t know how his mother managed to get her driving licence—, and someone to call when she got lost in the road or something, but still…

“I want to go,” Regulus partially lied. He’d always been a bad liar in front of his mother but he really wanted some time for himself and if he had to go live with Orion to achieve that, then that’s exactly what he was going to do.

“Tell Orion I said hi.”

“I will.”

“I’ll see you soon,” she insisted. Regulus could see glimpses of her honesty. “You can come home whenever you want— I’ll come right back as soon as you need me”

But Regulus could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind her promise and in the end of the day, she was still his mother, no matter her flaws.

“Don’t worry about me,” He urged. “I’ll be great with Orion. I love you, mother.”

Walburga hugged him tightly for a minute— Regulus hesitated a bit before hugging her back— and then he got on the plane, and Walburga was gone.

~

It was a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying didn't bother him; the hour in the car with Orion, though, Regulus was a little worried about.

Orion had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that Regulus was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten him registered for high school and was going to help Regulus get a car.

But Regulus knew it was sure to be awkward with Orion. Neither of of them were what anyone would call verbose, and he didn't know what there was to say regardless. He knew Orion was more than a little confused by his decision — like his mother before Regulus, he hadn't made a secret of his distaste for Forks.

When Regulus landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. He didn’t see it as an omen—just something that was unavoidable. He’d already said his goodbyes to the sun.

Orion was waiting for Regulus with the cruiser. That he was expecting, too. Orion is Police Chief Black to the good people of Forks. His primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of his fund, was that Regulus refused to be driven around town in a car with read and blue lights on top. Nothing slowed down traffic like a cop.

The reunion of the Blacks went as to be expected for two people who were quiet and introverted— it was awkward. Regulus hadn’t seen his father in a while and so meeting him again was nice but also a bit jarring. How was he supposed to call Orion father after spending almost no time with him at all?

Orion gave Regulus an awkward, one-armed hug when he stumbled his way off the plane.

“It’s good to see you, Reg,” he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied Regulus. “You haven’t changed much. How’s Walburga?”

“Mother’s fine. It’s good to see you too, Father.” Regulus would not allow himself to call him Orion to his face only because he had manners. Regulus had only brought a few bags. Most of his Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington. Regulus and Walburga had pooled their resources to supplement Regulus’ winter wardrobe, but it was still scantly. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.

Regulus could tell that Orion, his father, might have been hoping for a better reaction— he just wasn’t sure how to portray the proper emotion that would bring him some sort satisfaction and still feel natural to him. Regulus usually had difficulty with that, displaying proper human emotion while still seeming genuine. Most of the time he had a blank look on his face because it felt the most comfortable—this had earned him the nickname ‘the robot’ from some of his previous classmates, plus it didn’t help that they thought he was some type of genius seen once every century.

“I found a good car for you, really cheap,” he announced when they were strapped in.

“What kind of car?” Regulus was suspicious of the way Orion said ‘good car for you’ as opposed to just ‘good car’.

“Well, it’s a truck actually, a Chevy.”

“Where did you find it?”

“Do you remember Bartemius Crouch Senior at La Push?” La Push is the tiny reservation on the coast.

“No.”

“He used to go fishing with us during the summer,” Orion prompted.

That would explain why Regulus didn’t remember him. He did a great job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from his memory.

“He’s in a wheelchair now,” Orion continued when Regulus didn’t respond. “So, he can’t drive any more, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap.”

“What year is it?” Regulus could see from his change of expression that this was the question his father was hoping he wouldn’t ask.

“Well, Bartemius’ done a lot of work on the engine— it’s only a few years old, really.”

Regulus hoped Orion didn’t think so little of him as to believe he would give up that easily. “When did he buy it?”

“He bought it in 1984, I think?”

“Did he buy it new?”

“Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties— or late fifties at the earliest,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Or— Father, I don’t really know anything about cars. I wouldn’t be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn’t afford a mechanic…”

“Really, Reg, the thing runs great. They don’t build them like that any more.”

The thing, Regulus thought to himself… it had possibilities— as a nickname, at the very least.

“How cheap is cheap?” After all, that was the part Regulus couldn’t comprise on.

“Well, mon étoile, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift.” Orion peeked at Regulus with a hopeful expression.

Wow, Regulus thought. Free.

“You didn’t need to do that, Papa. I was going to buy myself a car.” Regulus tried to not blush at the fact that he had called his father ‘papa’ after years of not doing so, but if anything Orion seemed very happy at the fact.

“I don’t mind. I want you to be happy here.” He was looking ahead of the road when he said this. Orion wasn’t comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. Regulus also inherited that from him. So, he was looking straight ahead as he responded.

“That’s really nice, Father. Thanks. I really appreciate it.” No need to add that Regulus being happy in Forks is only possible because he couldn’t stand his overbearing mother any more. Orion didn’t need to suffer along with him.

“Well, now, you’re welcome,” he mumbled, obviously embarrassed by Regulus’ thanks.

After that, the drive back to Orion’ house was silent and nostalgic. For a little while, Regulus had been looking outside the window, watching seemingly familiar sceneries pass by. It was beautiful, of course; Regulus couldn’t deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks cover with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. It was too green— an alien planet.

When Orion tried to engage in conversation again, Regulus had already pulled out his favourite book, The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller and went back to reading it from where he left it on.

“So, Reg,” he paused, glancing back at him. “You got new glasses?”

The pair he was wearing presently were different from the ones Regulus had a couple years ago. He used to wear a pair of thin glasses that looked hideous on his face, not that he cared that much about his looks, but whenever old photos of him wearing those glasses came up, Regulus had to fight the urge to throw up. These days, he wore a larger rectangular-shaped pair of glasses with slightly thicker frame; this is only whenever he had to read his book or do homework.

Regulus’ eyes flickered up to meet Orion’.

“Yes. That’s right.” was all Regulus said before he looked back down at his book, and flipped a page.

His father nodded once, with his eyes setting back on the open road. He seemed to have got the hint that Regulus would not be very engaging as long as he had his book on him.

Eventually, they made it to Orion’. The house looked the exact same from what Regulus remembered. Orion still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he’d bought with Walburga in the early days of their marriage.

There, parked on the street in the front of the house that never changed, was Regulus’ new— well, new to him— truck. It was a faded red colour with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To Regulus’ immense surprise, he quite loved it. He didn’t know if it would run, but he could see himself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged.

“Wow, Papa, I love it! Thanks!” Now his horrific day tomorrow would be just that much less dreadful.

Regulus wouldn’t be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief’s cruiser.

“I’m glad you like it.” Orion said gruffly, embarrassed once again.

It took only one trip to get all of Regulus’ stuff upstairs. His room was located in the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard, whereas Sirius’ room was located in the attic. Though, no one had stepped in there in years.

The room was familiar to Regulus, it had belong to him since he was born. The wooden floor, the dark green walls, the peaked celling, the black lace curtains around the window— these were all part of Regulus’ childhood.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which he would have to share with Orion. Regulus was trying very hard not to dwell in that thought. One of the best things about Orion is that he doesn’t hover. He left Regulus alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for Walburga. It was nice to be alone, not to have smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain.

~

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven— now fifty-eight— students; there were more than seven hundred people in his junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together. Regulus would be the new boy from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.

Maybe, if Regulus looked like a boy from Phoenix should, he could work this to his advantage. But physically, he’d never fit in anywhere. He should be tan, sporty, and maybe even blonde— a volleyball player, or a musician, perhaps— all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, Regulus was ivory-skinned, without the excuse of red hair or green eyes, despite the constant sunshine. He had always been slender, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete. He didn’t have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating himself— and harming both himself and anyone else who stood close.

When he finished putting his clothes, covering any sight of the binder he had on, Regulus took his bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean himself up. Facing his pallid reflection in the mirror, Regulus was forced to admit that he was lying to himself. It wasn’t just physically that he’d never fit it. And if he couldn’t find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were his chances here?

He didn’t relate well to people his age. Maybe the truth was that he didn't relate well to people, period. Even his mother, who he was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with Regulus, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes he wondered if he was seeing the same things through his eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in his brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. And today would be just the beginning.

Breakfast with Orion was a quiet event. He wished Regulus good luck at school. Regulus thanked him knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid him. His father left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family.

Regulus didn’t want to be too early to school, but he couldn’t stay in the house any more. He donned his jacket and headed out into the rain. It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak Regulus through immediately as he reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of his new waterproof boots was unnerving. He missed the normal crunch of gravel as he walked. Regulus couldn't pause and admire his truck again as he wanted; he was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around his head and clung to his hair under Regulus’ hood.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Bartemius Sr or Orion had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, to Regulus’ relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that he hadn't expected.

Despite the fact that Regulus hated school— for social reasons. He hated the people; the students who cared about their looks, friendships or romantic relationships over the pursuit of their education.

Hopefully, Regulus would have all advanced placement (A.P) classes so he would be surrounded by fellow intellectuals. Maybe one of them could become his rival or— Regulus stopped mid-thought due to almost bursting out in laughter. Who was he kidding? He’d never met anyone as smart as him before and he was even more sure that he wouldn’t meet a fellow genius in Forks of all places.

Finding the school wasn’t difficult, though he’d never been there before. The school was, like the most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school, only the sign, which declared it to be Forks High School, made Regulus stop.

He parked in front of the first building, which had a small sing over the door reading front office. No one else was parked there, so Regulus wasn’t sure if it was off limits. But he decided he would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. He steeped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path line with dark edges. Regulus took a deep breath before opening the door inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than he’d hope.

The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly coloured flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made Regulus feel a bit overdressed.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

“I’m Regulus Black,” he informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. It was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Son of the Chief’s crazy ex-wife, came home at last.

“Of course,” she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the one she was looking for. “I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school.” she brought several sheets to the counter to show Regulus.

When he went back out to his truck, other students were starting to arrive. He drove around the school, following the line of traffic. Regulus was glad to see that most of the cars were older like his, nothing flashy. At home he'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighbourhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porches in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, Regulus cut the engine as soon as he was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to him.

Regulus looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully he wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of his nose all day. He stuffed everything in his bag, slung the strap over his shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, Regulus lied to himself feebly. No one was going to bite him. He finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

He kept his ace pulled back into his hood as Regulus walked to the side walk, crowded with teenagers. His plain black jacket didn't stand out, he noticed with relief.

When he got to his first class, Regulus took the slip up to the teacher, a short, dwarf-like man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Flitwick. He gawked at him when he saw Regulus’ name— not an encouraging response— and of course he flushed tomato red. But at least he had sent Regulus to an empty desk at the back without introducing him to the class. It was also harder for his new classmates to stare at Regulus in the back, but somehow they managed.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a foppish boy with wavy blonde hair and with particularly straight and shiny teeth leaned across the aisle to talk to Regulus.

“You’re Reg, right? Regulus Black, aren’t you?” He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.

“Regulus,” he corrected— he didn’t want people calling him Reg or Reggie or anything of that sorts—. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at him.

"Where's your next class?" he asked.

 Regulus had to check in his bag. "Um, Government, with Slughorn, in building six."

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitely over-helpful. "I'm Gilderoy," he added.

Regulus smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

They got their jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. Regulus could have sworn several people behind them were walking close enough to eavesdrop. He hoped he wasn't getting paranoid.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.

"Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," Regulus told him.

"You don't look very tan."

"My mother is part albino."

He studied Regulus’ face apprehensively, and he sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humour didn't mix.

A few months of this and he'd forget how to use sarcasm.

They walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Gilderoy walked him right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," he said as Regulus touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together."

He sounded hopeful.

Regulus smiled at him vaguely and went inside.

~

Regulus hated physical education before lunch. P.E. was without question Regulus’ least favourite class. Some may argue that P.E. is the easiest class to get an A in but Regulus would gladly disagree. Anything that had to do with with physical fitness or sports, Regulus was terrible at and when he was bad at something, Regulus despised it with a passion consequently abandoning it completely. So, for Regulus, that class had been an absolute nightmare.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. His Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Binns, who Regulus would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made him stand in front of the class and introduce himself. He stammered, tried hard not to blush, and tripped over his own shoes on the way to his own seat, (Regulus had never been so embarrassed in his life).

After two classes, Regulus started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask him questions about how he was liking Forks. He tried to be diplomatic, but mostly he just lied a lot. At least Regulus never needed the map.

One girl sat next to him in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with Regulus to the cafeteria for lunch.

She was a bit taller than Regulus, she had this dreamy, princess-like looks — think pink cheeks, long lashes. She was a beautiful girl who Regulus later found was called Pandora Rosier.

She had invited Regulus to sit at her table with several other friends, who she had introduced to him. There were three girls— Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon and Alice Fortescue— and then the only boy, whose name Regulus learned was Frank Longbottom.

Her friends seemed impressed by Pandora’ bravery in speaking to him. The boy from English, Gilderoy, waved at him from across the room. He was there, sitting in the lunch room, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers. And that’s when Regulus saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where Regulus sat as possible in the long room.

There were five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at Regulus, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, his attention.

They didn’t look anything alike. Of the three boys, one appeared to be in pain— he had a young face and light-brown hair which had flecks of grey, few scars across his face that made appear dangerous. The one next to him, was a bit less taller than other boy, leaner, but still muscular, and had dark black hair and grey eyes—he felt familiar to Regulus, but he didn’t understand why—. The last one was lanky, less bulky, with glorious dark skin, and untidy jet black hair. He was more boyish than the others, — a smirk on his face as he talked to the people around him—, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every person around her take a hit on their self-esteem just by being in the same room. She had  high cheek bones, bright brown eyes, a thin nose, flawless skin, and pouty lips that could make her desirable to many students. The short girl was pixie like, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep red with beautiful green eyes,

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale—despite the different skin tones—, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than Regulus, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes — purplish, bruise like shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular. But all this is not why Regulus couldn't look away. He stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect red haired girl, or the jet black-haired boy.

Who are they?

“Who are they?” Regulus asked Pandora,—out loud this time— who had been talking to Dorcas but had paused once she had heard his question.

As she looked up to see who he meant— though already knowing, probably from his tone— suddenly he looked at Regulus, the thinner one, the boyish one with the smirk, the youngest perhaps. He looked at Pandora for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to Regulus.

He looked away quickly, more quickly than Regulus could, though in a a flush of embarrassment he dropped his eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest.

Pandora giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like Regulus did.

“That’s James and Sirius Potter, and Remus Lupin. The ones in the left are Lily Evans and Mary MacDonald. They all live together with Dr. Potter and his wife.” she said under her breath.

Regulus glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other four still looked away, and yet Regulus felt he was speaking quietly to them.

“They are… very nice looking,” Regulus stated with the conspicuous understand. Pandora’ neighbour, Marlene, let out a huff.

“Yes!” she agreed with another giggle. “They’re all together though— Lily and Mary, and Remus and Sirius. I mean. And they all live together.” Marlene’s voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, Regulus thought critically. But, if he was being honest, Regulus had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip.

“Which one are the Potters?” Regulus asked. “They don’t look related…”

“Oh, they’re not. Dr. Potter is really young. In his late twenties or early thirties. They’re all adopted. The Potter are brothers— not related— but they grew up together once Sirius was adopted into the family. He was in a foster house for a while.

“He looks a little old for a foster kid.” Regulus couldn’t help but point out. It didn’t help that the boy’s name was the same as Regulus’ deceased older brother. It was making him nervous.

“He is now, Sirius is eighteen, but he’s been with the Potters for a while. They’re a family friend of his or something like that.”

“That’s really kind of nice— for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they’re so young and everything.”

“I guess so, “ Marlene admitted reluctantly. Regulus got the impression that not everyone in Forks High School liked the Potters.

Throughout all this conservation, Regulus eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.

“Have they always lived in Forks?” Regulus questioned. Surely he would have noticed them on one of his summers here.

“No,” Dorcas was the one to answer this time. Her tone implied that it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like him. “They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska.”

Regulus felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that he wasn’t the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.

As Regulus continued to examined them, the youngest, one of the Potters, looked up to meet his gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As Regulus looked swiftly away, it seemed to him that his gaze held some kind of unmet expectation.

“Which one is the boy with the jet-black hair?” Regulus inquired. He peeked at him from the corner of his eye, and the boy was still staring at him, but not gawking like the other students had today— he had a sightly frustrated expression. Regulus quickly looked down again.

“That’s James. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time— that is if you do swing that way—. He doesn’t date. Apparently none of the people here are good-looking enough for him.” Alice added from where she was sitting, next to Frank who held her hand. The remaining people in the table nodded in unison the moment Alice had stopped talking. Regulus wondered how many people James had turned down in this school.

James.

Regulus heart softened for a moment, his brain associating the name with face of the Potter boy and for some reason his heart skipped a beat. James Potter. It fit him.

He glanced at him again. His face was turned away, but Regulus thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too. Great, Regulus thought to himself, the boy was cocky.

After a few more minutes, the five of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful—even the one with the scars. It was a bit unsettling to watch. James didn’t look at Regulus again. But Regulus could not really concentrate in that fact, he had been left too shocked about something else. The boy who had the same name as he’s deceased brother looked exactly like Sirius. Regulus couldn’t believe hie eyes. He felt as if he was going crazy, his brother had died years ago, it was not possible. Clearly, Regulus had seen wrong. He tried to take a better glance at the boy but by that time, he had already left.

Okay. Regulus had clearly seeing wrong. That had to be it. Sirius was dead and no God was going to bring him back, no matter how much Regulus wished it.

He calmed his heart and vanished every thought of his brother and focused back on the conservation his new friends had going on. It would had been bad if Regulus had sat alone the whole lunch, he realised.

Frank had Biology with Regulus the next hour. They walked to class in silence. He was shy, too. When they entered the classroom, Frank went to sit at a black-topped table exactly like the one Regulus was used to. He already had a neighbour. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the centre aisle, Regulus recognised James Potter with his usual messy hair, sitting next to that single open sit.

As he walked down the aisle to introduce himself to the teacher and get his slip signed, Regulus was watching James surreptitiously. Just as he passed, he suddenly went rigid on his seat— a complete opposite to his usual relaxed and carefree stance Regulus had seen before—. He stared at Regulus again, meeting his eyes with the strangest expression on his face— it was hostile, furious. Regulus quickly looked away, shocked, he had not expected such a response.

Regulus stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch himself on the edge of the table.

The boy sitting there laughed.

Regulus noticed James’ eyes were black— coal black.

Mr. Kettleburn signed his slip and handed Regulus a book with no nonsense about introduction. Regulus liked him. But of of course, he had no choice but to send Regulus to the one open seat in the middle of the room. Regulus kept his eyes down as he went to sit by James, honestly bewildered by the antagonistic stared he’d giving him.

The cocky bastard had to chill out. Regulus had never seen him before, hell, he didn’t even know about his existence until today. Regulus hoped this was the last time he’d sit down next to James. He will ask Frank next time to pair up together if he didn’t mind.

Regulus didn’t bother to look up as he set his book on the table and took his seat, but then he saw James’ posture change from the corner of his eye. He was leaning away from him—something Regulus took great offence too—, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his eyes like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, Regulus sniffed his hair, it smelled liked mint, the scent of his favourite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odour. Regulus let his curls fall over his face, blocking any view he could have to James, and tried to pay attention to Mr. Kettleburn.

He hated him, Regulus decided.

However, despite that, Regulus couldn’t stop himself from peeking occasionally through his hair at the strangest boy he had the most pleasure to meet—please, do note the sarcasm, it had not left yet—. During the whole class, he never seemed to relax his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from Regulus as possible. Regulus could see his hand on his left was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his beautiful dark skin.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others, Regulus despised this feeling. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because he was waiting for James tight fist to loosen? It never did though; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this his normal behaviour? If it was then, why did Regulus not see it during lunch. Was it because of him? Regulus rapidly discarded that thought. James didn’t even know him.

Blame his curiosity, but Regulus peeked up at him one more time, and to say that was his biggest regret of all times would be an understatement. James was glaring down at him, eyes full of revulsion. Instinctively, Regulus flinched away from him, shrinking against his chair.

If looks could kill… Regulus did not even want to finish his thought process.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making Regulus jump, and James Potter was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose — he was much taller than Regulus thought — his back to him, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

Regulus could not believe what he had just witnessed. He sat frozen staring blankly after him. He was so mean—not that Regulus hated mean, he was sort of mean and he loved it—, but it wasn't fair. Regulus began gathering up his things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled him. It would do more harm than good if he were to remain angry for the rest of the day.

“Aren’t you Regulus Black?” a female voice asked.

Regulus looked up to see a cute, baby-faced girl with black hair, smiling at him in a friendly way. She obviously didn’t think Regulus smelled bad. So, it appeared that there was something wrong with Potter, well Regulus did not care.

“Yes.” Regulus replied politely, with something he hoped looked like a smile.

“I’m Emmeline Vance,”

“Hi, Emmeline.”

“Do you need any help finding your next class?”

“I’m headed to the art classroom, actually. I think I can find it.”

“That’s my next class too.” She seemed happy, though it wasn’t that big of a coincidence in a school this small.

Regulus and Emmeline walked to class together, she was bit chatty—not that it bothered Regulus much, in fact it made it easier for him. It turned out she was in his maths class too. She was one of the nicest people he’d met today.

But as they were entering the art classroom, she asked. “So, did you stab James Potter with a pencil or what? I’ve never seen him act like that?”

Regulus cringed. Fantastic. So, he wasn’t the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn’t James Potter usual behaviour—though, Regulus had thought so too, he did witness that James’ interactions with his family were completely different—. He decided to play dumb.

“Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?” He asked artlessly.

“Yes,” she said. “He looked like he was in pain or something?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Regulus responded. “I never spoke to him.”

“He’s a weird guy—funny at times, though.” Emmeline lingered a bit instead of sitting down once we got inside the classroom. “If we had sat together, I would have talked to you,”

Regulus smiled at her, a bit, before Emmeline walked away to go sit by someone else. She was very nice but it wasn’t enough to ease Regulus’ irritation.

Finally, the final bell rang at last. Regulus walked slowly to the office to return his paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. He wrapped his arms around himself. When he walked into the warm office, Regulus almost turned around and walked out.

James Potter stood at the desk in front of Regulus. He didn’t appear to notice the sound of his entrance. Regulus stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. Regulus quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time — any other time.

Yeah, Regulus definitely hated him.

Regulus didn’t want believe that the issue was about him. It had to be something else, something that could have happened before he entered the Biology room.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, swirling around Regulus’ face. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But James Potter’ back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at him — his face was absurdly handsome— a gentle curve jaw and pouty lips, not to mention his long eyelashes which kissed his skin. But the thing that Regulus liked the most was the glasses, they fit perfectly on his face. But of course Regulus could not ignore his piercing, hate-filled eyes.

For an instant, Regulus felt genuine fear, raising on his arms. The look had only lasted for a second, but it chilled him more than the freezing wind. James turned back to the receptionist, acting as the previous interaction had not happened.

“Never mind, then.” he replied hastily in a voice like velvet. “I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help.” And with that he turned on his heel without another look at him, and disappeared out of the door.

Regulus went to desk, still confused and his face a bit white, and handed her the signed slip.

“How did your first day go, dear?” the receptionist asked maternally. Regulus didn’t need that, one mother was quite enough.

“Fine.” He lied, his voice weak. She didn’t look convinced, not that it surprised Regulus. He wasn’t that much convinced either.

When he got back to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home he had in this damp green hole. Regulus sat inside, just staring out the winds shield blankly. But soon Regulus was cold enough to need the heater, so he turned the key and the engine roared to life.

Regulus was still a bit dazed by the last interaction he had. He didn’t understand what Potter issue was. Actually, he didn’t understand what was the issue with the Potters in general. Why did they all have the same features, otherworldly, beauty, pale skin with golden eyes?

Only about 5% of the world can say they have true amber coloured eyes but even their irises had much more golden pigment than natural amber eyes. Plus, it might be gloomy in Forks but how could they possibly be that pale? Regulus found himself wondering.

Regulus spent a good five minutes in his truck thinking back to those five individuals before he headed back to his father house.

However, Regulus left Forks High School with a new discovery.

James Potter, he, in fact, did hate.

Chapter Text

Respecting someone’s alone time couldn’t possibly be that difficult, could it? Regulus didn’t think so. Of course, he was never one to make the move conversation-wise. Regulus wasn’t an instigator. Sometimes people needed to be left alone and Regulus though that that his father, Orion, understood this. After all, Orion was just like him—the type of person who kept things to themselves. But unfortunately, it seemed as though his little time in Forks had already begun to change his ways.

Regulus had been his is room reading, as he normally did, enjoying his alone time and the silence. Out of nowhere, he heard timid rapid footsteps ruining up the stairs to his room and suddenly Orion was standing in his room. Regulus gazed over the top of his book to look at his father, uncertain as to why he had barged in unannounced and unprovoked.

Did Regulus need to get a ‘DO NOT ENTER- PROPERTY OF R.A.B.’ sign or something? Regulus had to refrain from rolling his eyes. If it was that important, Orion could have just left a note or something like that, there was no need for this social interaction.

“Is there a particular reason for your intrusion into my space, Father?” Regulus asked Orion, sitting up.

His father’s grey-blue eyes had an intense gaze. He was silent for a few moments, assembling his thoughts together. Regulus calmly waited but was gradually growing impatient— if Orion didn’t have anything to say, he could just leave.

“How was your first day of school?” Orion finally spoke.

Regulus sat back, resting on the weight of Orion’ question. Even though Regulus and his father got along better than he did with Walburga, they still hardly ever talked to each other.

“It was okay,” Regulus mumbled, thinking back to everything that had occurred.

“Did you like the school?”

“The food could be better.”

“Did you make any friends?”

“Well, um… I think I did? Not really sure how the whole friend thing actually works,”

“Okay, good. Are you happy? That’s honestly all I really want to know, Reg,”

And wasn’t that the question that Regulus kept asking himself.

Am I happy? Did I make the right choice by moving to Forks? Did I regret it all already?

Those questions kept going on in circles in Regulus’ head. But he didn’t want his father to be sad, he didn’t want Orion to see how his first day of high school had left him confused and angry— especially angry.

“I think it’s a bit early to ask that question, Father, but I think I’ll be fine.” Regulus finally let out.

And that’s how their father-son conservation ended for the day.

~

The next day was better… and worse.

It was better because it wasn’t raining yet, though the clouds were dense and opaque. It was easier because Regulus knew what to expect of his day. Emmeline came to sit by him in English, and walked Regulus to his next class, with Chess Club Gilderoy glaring at her all the while; that was nattering. People didn’t look at him quite as much as they had yesterday. Regulus sat with a big group at lunch that included Pandora, Alice, Dorcas, Marlene, Frank, Emmeline, and several other people whose names and faces Regulus now remembered. He began to feel like he was treading water, instead of drowning in it.

It was worse because Regulus was tired; He still couldn’t sleep with the wind echoing around the house. It was worse because Mr. Binns called him in Trig when his hand wasn’t raised and he had to talk in front of people. It was miserable because he had to play volleyball, and one time Regulus didn’t cringe out of the way of the ball, he hit his team-mate in the head with it. And it was worse because James Potter wasn’t in school at all.

All morning Regulus had been dreading lunch, fearing his bizarre and stupid glares. Part of him wanted to confront him and demand to know what his problem was. While Regulus was lying sleepless in his bed, he even imagined what he would say. But Regulus knew himself too well,— he would not be demanding anything if he confronted Potter, he would be just insulting him the worst he could.

But when he walked into the cafeteria with Marlene— trying to keep his eyes from sweeping the place for him, and failing entirely— Regulus saw his four siblings (and his older brother look-alike) of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and he was not with them.

Regulus walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, he still hadn’t showed. Emmeline, who was taking on the qualities of a golden retriever— despite her dark hair—, walked faithfully by his side to class. Regulus held his breath at the door, but James Potter wasn't there, either. Regulus exhaled and went to his seat. Emmeline followed, talking about an upcoming trip to beach. She lingered by his desk till the bell rang. Then, she smiled at Regulus wistfully and went to sit by a boy with braces. It looked like Regulus was going to have to do something about Emmeline, and it wouldn't be easy. In a town like this, where everyone lived on top of everyone else, diplomacy was essential. Regulus had never been enormously tactful; he had no practice dealing with overly friendly people.

Regulus was relieved that he had the desk to self, that Potter was absent. He told himself that repeatedly. But he couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that he was the reason he wasn't there. It was ridiculous, and egotistical, to think that Regulus could affect anyone that strongly. It was impossible. And yet he couldn't stop worrying that it was true.

When the school day was finally done, and the blush was fading out of Regulus’ cheeks from the volleyball incident, Regulus changed quickly back into his jeans and navy blue sweater. Regulus hurried from the boys' locker room, pleased to find that he had successfully evaded his retriever friend for the moment. Regulus walked swiftly out to the parking lot. It was crowded now with fleeing students. He got in his truck and dug through his bag to make sure he had what he needed.

Last night Regulus had discovered that Orion couldn't cook much besides fried eggs and bacon. So he requested that he be assigned kitchen detail for the duration of his stay. Orion was willing enough to hand over the keys to the banquet hall. Regulus also found out that he had no food in the house. So he had his shopping list and the cash from the jar in the cupboard labelled ‘FOOD MONEY’, and was on his way to the Thrift-way.

Regulus gunned his deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in his direction, and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. As he waited, trying to pretend that the ear-splitting rumble was coming from someone else's car, he saw Potter (the one that looked like his older brother), Lupin, Evans and MacDonald getting into their car. It was the shiny new Volvo. Of course. Regulus hadn't noticed their clothes before — he'd been too mesmerized by their faces. Now that he looked, it was obvious that they were all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but in clothes that subtly hinted at designer origins. With their remarkable good looks, the style with which they carried themselves, they could have worn dish-rags and pulled it off. It seemed excessive for them to have both looks and money. But as far as Regulus could tell, life worked that way most of the time. It didn't look as if it bought them any acceptance here.

No, Regulus didn't fully believe that. The isolation must be their desire; he couldn't imagine any door that wouldn't be opened by that degree of beauty.

They looked at Regulus’ noisy truck as he passed them, just like everyone else. Regulus kept his eyes straight forward and was relieved when he finally was free of the school grounds.

The Thrift-way was not far from the school, just a few streets south, off the highway. It was nice to be inside the supermarket; it felt normal. Regulus did the shopping at home, and he fell into the pattern of the familiar task gladly. The store was big enough inside that he couldn't hear the tapping of the rain on the roof to remind him where he was.

When Regulus got home, he unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them in wherever he could find an open space. He hoped Orion wouldn’t mind. Regulus wrapped the potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in marinade and balanced in on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge. When he finished with hat, he took his book bag upstairs. Before starting with his homework, he changed into a pair of onesies— his favourite pair—, pulled his curly hair into a messy bun, and checked his e-mail for the first time in days.

Regulus had three messages.

“Regulus,” his mother wrote…

Why haven’t you wrote to me yet, you can’t be this irresponsible, young man. Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining? I certainly do miss your presence here with me. I’m already almost finished packing for Florida, but I can’t find my black sweater. Do you knew where I put it? Phil says hi.

Do reply quickly,

Mother.

Regulus sighed and went to the next one. It was sent eight hours after the first. What a control freak his mother was.

“Regulus,” she wrote again…

Why haven’t you e-mailed me yet? What are you waiting for? You can’t keep me waiting for ever, Regulus. I do not have that much patience left in me.

Waiting for your response,

Mother.

The last one was from this morning.

Regulus Arcturus Black,

If I haven’t heard from you by 4:30 p.m. today I’m calling Orion.

You have disappointed me.

Regulus checked the clock. He still had twenty minutes, but his mother was well known for jumping the gun.

Mother calm down. Don’t do anything rash. Regulus thought before he began writing.

“Dear Mother,” he wrote…

Everything has been well.

Well, not really. Mother, do you know why I keep lying to you. Do you know why I ignored you for the past days? I keep trying to understand you but sometimes it tires me out, that’s why I moved out.

In fact, I am tired of you. Since childhood, all I did was study just to make you proud. I was always the perfect obedient child. Do you see how lucky you are? I am lucky to have you but most time it suffocates me.

All the little things you said mattered. The way you’d shut me out. The way you’d say no. The way you yell at everything that you could have instead said in a nicer way. I DON’T GET WHY YOU NEEDED TO DEGRADE YOUR CHILD, YOUR WORDS HURT— THEY HURT ME.

And all I keep doing is try and try, always wishing you’d be proud of the son you have.

That was me trying…

All this time… but right now, I’m just tired .

Regulus swallowed the sobs that were threatening to come out, he paused, giving himself some time before he deleted everything and re-wrote.

“Dear Mother,”

Everything has been great. Of course it’s raining. I was waiting for something to write about. School isn’t bad, just a little repetitive. I met some nice peers who sit by me at lunch.

Your jacket is at the dry cleaners— you were supposed to pick it up on Saturday.

Orion bought me a truck, can you believe it? I actually do love it. It’s old, but really sturdy, which is good, you know, for me.

I miss your presence, too. I’ll write again soon, but I’m not going to check my e-mail every five minutes.

Relax, enjoy your time with Phil— by the way, tell him I said hi.

I love you,

Regulus.

~

Regulus had decided to continue read To Kill a Mockingbird— the novel they were currently studying in English— yet again for the fun of it, and that’s what he was doing when Orion came home. Regulus had lost track of the time, and hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.

“Regulus?” his father called out when he heard him on the stairs.

Who else would it be? Regulus thought to himself.

“Hello, Father, welcome home.”

“Thanks,” He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as Regulus bustled about the kitchen. As far as he was aware, Orion had never shot the gun on the job— what a bummer though, Regulus would have definitely at some point. But he kept it ready. When Regulus came here as a child, his father would always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. Regulus guesses he considered him old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose (AHA!).

“What’s for dinner?” he asked warily. Walburga was a unique type of cook— biggest understatement of the century—, very imaginative cook, and her experiments weren’t always edible. Regulus was surprised that he seemed to remember that far back. Maybe a bit sad too.

“Steak and potatoes,” Regulus answered, and his father looked quite relived.

He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while Regulus worked. They were both more comfortable that way. Regulus made a salad while the steaks cooked, and set the table.

He called Orion in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he walked into the room.

"Smells good, Reg."

"Thanks."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of them were bothered by the quiet. In some ways, they were well suited for living together.

"So, how did you like school? Have you made any friends?" he asked as he was taking seconds.

Regulus gave his father a look, was he seriously inquiring the same thing again? He was about to dismiss the question but the hope in his father face made him weak. Regulus thought he wouldn’t hurt to indulge him.

“Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Pandora. I sit with her friends at lunch. And there’s this other girl, Emmeline, who’s very friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice.” with one outstanding exception.

“That must be Emmeline Vance. Nice kid— nice family. Her mother owns the clothes goods store just outside town. She makes a good living off all the the tourists who come through here.”

“Do you know the Potter family?” Regulus asked hesitantly. He couldn’t help his curiosity.

“Dr. Potter family? Sure. Dr. Potter is a great man.”

“They… the kids… are a little different. They don’t seem to fit in very well at school.” the moment those words were out of Regulus’ mouth, his father surprised him by looking angry.

“People in this town,” he muttered. “Dr. Potter is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here,” Orion continued, getting louder. “We’re lucky to have him— lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town. He's an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature — I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should —camping trips every other weekend… Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk."

That was the longest speech Regulus had ever heard his father make. He must feel very strongly about whatever people were saying.

Regulus backtracked. “They seemed nice enough to me. I just noticed they kept to themselves. They’re all very attractive,” Regulus added, trying to be more complimentary— not that he was lying about what he said.

“You should see the doctor," Orion said, laughing. "It's a good thing he's happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work with him around." Regulus bet they did, if Potter had gotten his looks from his father, then Regulus did not doubt Orion’ words.

They lapsed back into silence as they finished eating. Orion cleared the table while Regulus started on the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after Regulus finished washing the dishes by hand — no dishwasher — he went upstairs unwillingly to work on his maths homework for once, though Regulus could feel a tradition in the making.

That night it was finally quiet. He fell asleep quickly, exhausted.

~

The rest of the week was uneventful. Regulus got used to the routine of his classes. By Friday, he was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school. In Gym, the kids on his team learned not to pass Regulus the ball—thank goodness, they had woken up some common sense—, and to step quickly in front of him if the other team tried to take advantage of his only weakness. Regulus happily stayed out of their way.

James Potter didn't come back to school.

Every day, Regulus watched anxiously until the rest of the Potters entered the cafeteria without him. Then he could relax and join in the lunchtime conversation. Mostly it centred around a trip to the La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Emmeline was putting together. Regulus was invited, and he had agreed to go, more out of politeness than desire. Beaches should be hot and dry.

By Friday, Regulus was perfectly comfortable entering his Biology class, no longer worried that Potter would be there. For all he knew, he had dropped out of school. Regulus tried not to think about Potter, but he couldn't totally suppress the worry that he was responsible for his continued absence, ridiculous as it seemed.

In that particularly class, Regulus had been paired with a new classmate, Charlie.

They were given a group small assignment to complete by the end of the class. It wasn’t anything to heavy, just naming the different things they saw under their microscope. It was a group assignment because there weren’t enough microscopes for each student to have and so they would be sharing with the person they had been paired. They were given a worksheet to fill out that had a few questions, including the name of the item and a few lines to write a brief description of what it looked like.

Initially, since Regulus had gotten hold of the worksheet, he planned on just doing it all himself and sliding his page of the person sitting next to him. It would be the fastest way to get the work done and guarantee that they got a perfect score.

Unfortunately, the teacher had already decided that the work would be done in pairs, so that’s the reason Regulus found himself sitting next to his new partner, Charlie.

“Oh, yeah, this is pretty easy, we’ll be fine,” Charlie stated. He turned to face Regulus. “So, do you want to split up this halfway? I can do the first half and you do the second half?”

Regulus gave him a blank stare— it was going to he hard to pretend like he didn’t exist if he was sitting right next to him.

“Uh, hello?” Charlie rose his eyebrows at Regulus when a few moments passed without him answering his questions.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Regulus asked pompously.

The boys smiled, seemingly thinking that Regulus was joking— he obviously wasn’t but Charlie boy here appeared to be dense.

“Yeah, not sweat! Bio is like, one of my best classes. I always get good grades.”

Regulus carefully observed him, he didn’t seem to be lying. There was a possibility that he was smart— Biology was one of the easier sciences after all (at least in Regulus’ opinion).

“Fine.”

“Cool,” the boy dragged the microscope closer to him and started with the first half of the questions. Regulus was planning on reading while he worked— naively assuming they'd be working quietly. But instead, Charlie opened is mouth again. “So, I’m Charlie Nelson. Considering I don’t recognise you, your definitely new. Are you Reg?”

“Regulus.” he automatically corrected again— only his father was allowed to called him that.

“Yeah, I’ve heard people talking about you, Despite being a year younger, you’re in my grade. I’ve heard about how smart you are and stuff, so nice to meet you.” he continued to talk, as he wrote down his findings on the worksheet. “Kinda weird I didn’t see you around with how popular you are. I thought maybe I’d see you once in a while.”

“I’m in mostly A.P classes,” Regulus said curtly. All of his answers so far had been short— he didn’t want to talk to him. Why couldn’t he understand that? Why did silence make people uncomfortable? Regulus felt that this conservation was much worse!

“Ah, I see, the whole ‘being smart’ thing again. So you’re like what? Sixteen?”

“Seventeen.”

“Damn,” Charlie looked at him, eyes with surprise. “Can I be honest? I was like an idiot at seventeen.”

Regulus met his unenthusiastically. “You mean last year,” he blurted out.

Again, Charlie, believing that Regulus was joking, started laughing.

“You’re funny, also I’m done with my half.”

Regulus held out his hand for the worksheet and Charlie gave it to him. He looked over his answers and became doubtful of descriptions. He glanced over the glass slides containing the substances they were meant to examine— and at that moment Regulus was livid.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice shaking with anger

“What do you mean?” Charlie responded perplexed.

“You didn’t even put the covers on the slides? How are you supposed to adequately study the specimens if they’re not pressed against a flat surface? This is a high-resolution microscope, they have a very narrow region within which they focus! Not applying the covers messes with the image you’ll see!”

“I—” Regulus wasn’t looking to hear any excuses as he interrupted him.

“I thought you said that Biology was one of your best classes? That you got good grades?”

“I do,” Charlie defended himself. “I have a solid B average.”

Regulus was left stunned to silence. He blinked, astounded by what he had just heard. Did he say B or had he heard wrong? No, no, he had definitely said B… he just said he had a solid B average.

“B? B!” Regulus rubbed his temple and tried not to scream. “You said you had good grades— good! Having B’s isn’t good— it’s average! It’s nothing! You are basically nothing, just mediocre!”

Regulus huffed as he grabbed the microscope, properly put the cover over the slide and inspected one of the specimens Charlie had examined. He pulled away, looked down at the worksheet and his face was red with anger.

“Just one look and your answers are wrong!” Regulus took of his glasses, rubbed his face and breathed in and out a few times, then put in his glasses back on. “I’m going to have to check all these to make sure they’re right. But honestly, it’s my fault for being too trusting. People like you don’t understand—”

“People like me?” Charlie crossed his arms over his chest.

Regulus’ head snapped in his direction and he glared at him. “Yes, Charles, people like you! Stupid people, who are perfectly content with being mediocre contributors to society. Let me guess, you plan on spending the rest of your life in this microscopic town, sheltered from the happenings of the rest of the world? Not at all of us have the luxury of being average, some of us have expectations that are laid upon them— some of us are aware that we’re meant for greater things. Some of us are gifted! You have your specialities and I have mine, and I don’t take kindly to folks polluting my work! So for the rest of this period, you are going to sit there in silence and observe as I go through each and every single one of these questions the right way!”

“Well, I—”

“No talking, Charles.”

He shut his mouth on command.

Charlie Nelson had never been spoken to in such a manner before. He was very well-liked amongst the community, amongst his peer— hell, he was one of the most popular guys in school for a reason. He thought that Regulus was a bit on the weirder side, he only knew as much as he had heard about Regulus on his first day. Regulus was quiet, reserved, and really smart. The boy sitting next to him, who just screamed at him, did not fit that description. Also, why was he calling him Charles?

~

Regulus first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Orion, unused to spending time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend. Regulus cleaned the house, got ahead on his homework, and wrote his mother a more bogus cheerful e-mail. He did drive to the library on Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that Regulus didn't bother to get a card; he would have to make a date to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good book-store. He wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got… and shuddered at the thought.

The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so Regulus was able to sleep well.

People greeted Regulus in the parking lot Monday morning. He didn’t know all their names, but Regulus waved back and slightly smiled at everyone. It was colder this morning, but happily not raining. In English, Emmeline took her accustomed seat by his side. They had a pop quiz on To Kill a Mockingbird. It was straightforward, very easy.

All in all, Regulus was feeling a lot more comfortable than he had thought he would feel by this point. More comfortable than he had ever expected to feel here.

When they walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. Regulus could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind bit at his cheek, at Regulus’ nose.

“Wow,” Emmeline said. “It’s snowing.”

Regulus looked at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along the side-walk and swirling erratically past his face.

“Great,” Snow. There went Regulus’ good day.

She looked surprised. “Don’t you like snow?”

“No. That means it’s too cold for rain.” Obviously. “Besides, I thought it was supposed to come down in flakes— you know, each one unique and all that. These just look like the ends of Q-tips.”  

“Haven’t you ever seen snow fall before?” she asked incredulously.

“Sure I have.” he paused— quickly remembering something. “On TV.”

Emmeline laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of her head. They both turned to see where it came from. Regulus had his suspicions about Gilderoy, who was walking away, his back toward them — in the wrong direction for his next class. Emmeline apparently had the same notion. She bent over and began scraping together a pile of the white mush.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" Regulus kept walking as he spoke. "Once people start throwing wet stuff, I go inside."

She just nodded, her eyes on Gilderoy’ retreating figure.

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. Regulus kept his mouth shut. Sure, it was drier than rain — until it melted in someone's socks.

He walked alertly to the cafeteria with Pandora— Dora as he now called her—, after Spanish. Mush balls were flying everywhere. Regulus kept a folder in his hands, ready to use it as a shield if necessary. Dora thought he was hilarious, but something in his expression kept her from lobbing a snowball at him herself.

Emmeline caught up with them as they walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting in her hair. She and Pandora were talking animatedly about the snow fight as they got in line to buy food. Regulus glanced toward that table in the corner out of habit. And then he froze where he stood. There were five people at the table. Pandora pulled on his arm.

“Hello? Regulus? What do you want?”

Regulus looked down; his ears were hot. He had no reason to feel self-conscious, he reminded himself. Regulus hadn’t done anything wrong.

“What’s with Regulus?” Emmeline asked Pandora.

“Nothing,” he answered. “I’ll just get some juice today.” Regulus quickly caught up to the end of the line.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Dora asked, her tone taking him by surprise.

Was she worried? About him?

“Actually, I feel a bit sick,” he said, his eyes still on the floor.

Regulus waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, his eyes on his feet.

He slipped his apple juice— which was the best type of juice, full stop. He did so slowly, his stomach churning. Twice Emmeline asked, with unnecessary concern, how he was feeling.

Regulus told her it was nothing, but he was wondering if he should play it up and escape to the nurse’s office for the next hour.

Which was completely ridiculous, he shouldn’t have to run away.

Regulus decided to permit himself one glance at the Potter family’s table. If he was glaring at him, he would skip Biology, just because he would not put up with whatever was going on with Potter.

He kept his head down and glanced up under his long leashes. None of them were looking this way. He lifted his head a little.

They were laughing. Potter, Lupin, and his brother copycat all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow.

Evans and MacDonald were leaning away as Copycat shook his dripping shoulder length hair towards them. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else— only they looked more like a scene from a film than the rest of the people in the school.

But, aside from the surprising laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and Regulus couldn’t quite pinpoint what that difference was. He examined Potter the most carefully. His skin was less pale, he decided— flushed from the snow fight maybe— the circles under his eyes much less noticeable. But there was something more. Regulus pondered, staring, trying to isolate the change.

“Regulus, what are you staring at?” Dorcas intruded, her eyes following his stare.

At that precise moment, his eyes flashed to meet Regulus’.

Regulus had never dropped his head that quick in his life, letting his hair fall to conceal his face. He was sure, though, in the instant their eyes met, that he didn’t look harsh or unfriendly as he had the last time Regulus had seen him. He looked merely curious again, unsatisfied in some way.

“James Potter is staring at you,” Marlene giggled on his ear.

“He doesn’t look angry, does he?” he couldn’t help asking.

“No,” she said, sounding utterly confused by Regulus’ question. “Should he be?”

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” he confided. He still felt queasy. He put his head down on his arm.

“The Potters don’t like anybody… well, they don’t notice anybody enough to like them. But he’s still staring at you.”

“Then stoop looking at him,” he hissed.

She snickered, but she looked away. Regulus raised his head enough to make sure that she did, contemplating violence if she resisted.

Frank interrupted them— thankfully. He was planning this epic epic battle of the blizzard in the parking lot after school and wanted them to join. Alice agreed enthusiastically. The way she looked at Frank left little doubt that she would be up for anything he suggested— though Regulus thought they were dating. Regulus kept silent. He would have to hide in the gym until the parking lot cleared.

For the rest of the lunch hour, Regulus very carefully kept his eyes at his own table. He decided to honour the bargain he’d made with himself. Since Potter didn't look angry, Regulus would go to Biology. His stomach did frightened little flips at the thought of sitting next to him again.

Regulus didn't really want to walk to class with Emmeline as usual — she seemed to be a popular target for the snowball snipers — but when they went to the door, everyone besides him groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. Regulus pulled his hood up, secretly pleased. He would be free to go straight home after Gym.

Emmeline kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.

Once inside the classroom, he saw with relief that his table was still empty. Mr. Kettleburn was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. Regulus kept his eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of his notebook.

He heard very clearly when the chair next to him moved, but his eyes stayed carefully focused on the pattern he was drawing.

“Hello,” said a quiet, jovial and musical voice.

He looked up, stunned that Potter was speaking to him. He was sitting as far away from Regulus as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward him. His hair was dripping wet, dishevelled — even so, he looked like he'd just finished shooting a commercial for hair gel. His dazzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips. But his eyes were careful.

“My name is James Potter,” he continued. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Regulus Black, or is is it just Reg?”

Instantly, without thinking twice, Regulus blurted out. “It’s Regulus.”

“Regulus,” Potter corrected, with a mischievous smile that told Regulus that he hadn’t truly learnt a thing.

Regulus’ mind was spinning with confusion. Had he made up the whole thing from last week? He was perfectly polite now— even a bit too perfect, it didn’t even seem authentic. Regulus had to speak again; Potter was waiting. But he couldn’t think of anything conventional to say despite having thought of this moment in his head, millions of times.

“H-how do you now my name?” Regulus was fighting against the prominent thought of knocking himself out of the situation. What a brain fart he just had. And not only that, he had stammered for heavens sake. Stammered.

Potter laughed a soft, enchanting laugh.

“Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you to arrive."

Regulus grimaced. He knew it was something like that.

"No," he persisted stupidly. "I meant, why did you call me Regulus?"

He seemed confused and Regulus did not find his nose crunch cute at all— he clearly did not. “Do you prefer Reg?”

“No, I like Regulus,” he said. “But I think Orion— I mean my father— must call me Reg behind my back—  that's what everyone here seems to know me as," Regulus tried to explain, feeling like an utter moron.

“Oh.” He let it drop. Regulus looked away awkwardly.

Thankfully, Mr. Kettleburn started class at that moment. Regulus tried to concentrate as he explained the lab what they would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, they had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. They weren't supposed to use books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it right.

“Get started,” he commanded.

“Cute people first, partner?” Potter asked. Regulus looked up to see him smiling a crooked smile so beautiful that it could rival the sun.

Regulus thought he was an idiot.

“I’m immune to flattery, Potter.” Regulus replied drily.

“Or, I could start, if you wish.” The smile on Potter’ face faded. He was obviously wondering if Regulus was mentally competent— he was not going to have that.

“No.” Regulus said. “I’ll go ahead.”

Regulus was showing off just a little. He’d already done this lab work before, and he knew what he was looking for. It should be easy. He snapped the first slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective. Regulus studied the slide briefly.

His assessment was confident. "Prophase."

"Do you mind if I look?" he asked as Regulus began to remove the slide. His hand caught his, to stop him, as he asked. His fingers were ice-cold, like he'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn't why Regulus jerked his hand away so quickly. When Potter touched him, it stung his hand as if an electric current had passed through them.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. However, he continued to reach for the microscope. Regulus watched him, still staggered, as he examined the slide for an even shorter time than he had.

"Prophase," he agreed, writing it neatly in the first space on our worksheet. He swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, and then glanced at it cursorily.

"Anaphase," he murmured, writing it down as he spoke.

Regulus kept his voice indifferent. "May I?"

Potter smirked and pushed the microscope to him.

He looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed. Damn it, Potter was right.

"Slide three?" Regulus held out his hand without looking at him.

He handed it to him; it seemed like he was being careful not to touch Regulus’ skin again.

Regulus took the most fleeting look he could manage.

"Interphase." He passed Potter the microscope before he could ask for it. He took a swift peek, and then wrote it down. Regulus would have written it while he looked, but his clear, elegant script intimidated him.

They were finished before anyone else was close. Regulus could see Emmeline and her partner comparing two slides again and again, and another group had their book open under the table.

Which left him with nothing to do but try to not look at him… unsuccessfully. He glanced up, and Potter was staring at him, that same inexplicable look of frustration in his eyes. Suddenly Regulus identified that subtle difference in his face.

"Did you get contacts?" he blurted out unthinkingly.

Potter seemed puzzled by his unexpected question. "No."

"Oh," Regulus mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your eyes."

He shrugged, and looked away.

In fact, Regulus was sure there was something different. He vividly remembered the flat black colour of his eyes the last time he'd glared at him — the colour was striking against the background of his dark pale skin and his jet-black hair. Today, his eyes were a completely different colour: a strange ochre, darker than butterscotch, but with the same golden tone. Regulus didn't understand how that could be, unless he was lying for some reason about the contacts. Or maybe Forks was making him crazy in the literal sense of the word.

Regulus looked down. Potter hands were clenched into hard fists again.

Mr. Kettleburn came to their table then, to see why they weren’t working. He looked over their shoulders to glance at the completed lab work, and then stared more intently to check the answers.

“So, James, didn’t you think Reg should get a chance with the microscope?” Mr. Kettleburn asked.

Regulus scoffed, about to retort, but Potter had already beat him to it.

“Regulus,” Potter corrected automatically. “Actually, he identified three of the five.”

Mr. Kettleburn looked at him now; his expression was sceptical— Regulus wished he had a bat to hit the teacher with.

“Have you done this lab work before?” he asked.

Regulus wanted to roll his eyes so badly. “Yes,”

“With White-fish blastula too?"

"Yeah."

Mr. Kettleburn nodded. "Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?"

"Yes."

"Well," he said after a moment, "I guess it's good you two are lab partners." He mumbled something else as he walked away. After he left, Regulus began doodling on his notebook again.

"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Potter asked. Regulus had the feeling that he was forcing himself to make small talk with him. Paranoia swept over him again. It was like he had heard Regulus’ conversation with Emmeline at lunch and was trying to prove Regulus wrong.

"Not really," Regulus answered honestly, instead of pretending to be normal like everyone else. He was still trying to dislodge the stupid feeling of suspicion, and he couldn't concentrate.

"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question.

Regulus sighed heavily, and shamelessly exaggeratedly. “What gave you that idea?”

He complete ignored the funny feeling he got from hearing Potter chuckling. “Forks must be a difficult place for you to live.” he mused.

“You have no idea,” Regulus muttered darkly.

Potter looked fascinated by what he said, for some reason Regulus couldn’t imagine. His face was such a distraction that Regulus tried not to look at it any more than courtesy absolutely demanded.

“Why did you come here, then?”

No one had asked Regulus that— not straight out like Potter did, demanding.

“It’s complicated.”

"I think I can keep up," he pressed.

Regulus paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting his gaze. His dark gold eyes confused him, and he answered without thinking.

"My mother got remarried," Regulus said.

"That doesn't sound so complex," Potter disagreed, but he was suddenly sympathetic.

"When did that happen?"

“Last September.” Regulus noticed his accent slipping up as he talked, and Potter seemed to notice too.

“You’ve got an accent.”

Regulus kissed his teeth in exasperation. “That’s great.”

“You’re not very chatty, are you?”

“I had no idea.”

Potter laughed, his face lightening up in a way that it complete took Regulus breath away.

His laugh was just beautiful.

Once Potter stopped laughing, Regulus decided to ask questions himself. “Where are from, Potter?” Rapidly— one blink and you’ll miss it type of thing—, Potter’s face had changed for a brief moment before it went back to normal, Regulus thought he would have imagined it if it wasn’t for the slight change in posture that he could see in Potter.

“Well, I was born in England but my parents are from India. What about you, have you always lived in Phoenix?” Potter asked right back, a move that Regulus read as deflection. He narrowed his eyes.

“No, I was born and raised in France for a couple of years and then once I turned four, moved to England for a while, before going to Phoenix and then lived there permanently.” Regulus replied. “Where in England did you use to live?

“Cambridge.”

“Oh,”

“What? Have you been there?”

“I’ve been to London, not Cambridge. I don’t remember it that well though.” Regulus said, hiding his apprehension behind his indifferent façade. “Where were you born specifically? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“I was technically born in Ireland but then my parents moved to England. After adopting some of my siblings, we decided to move to the states. But we do travel back to India once in a while.”

“So, you’re used to travelling, then?” Regulus questioned, leaning his chin on his propped up arm.

Potter seemed to freeze at the question. “Something like that,” he hastily replied. Regulus figured he shouldn't have asked that precise question.

“So, your mother got remarried and you don’t like him,” Potter summarised, his stone kind.

Regulus allowed him to change the conservation root.

“No, Phil is fine. Too young, maybe, but nice enough.”

Regulus couldn’t really fathom Potter interest, but he continued to stare at him with penetrating eyes, as if his dull life’s story was somehow vitally important.

"Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living." Regulus half-smiled.

"Have I heard of him?" he asked, smiling in response.

"Probably not. He doesn't play well. Strictly minor league. He moves around a lot."

"And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him." Potter said it as an assumption again, not a question.

Regulus’ chin raised in fraction. “No, she did not send me here. I sent myself.”

His eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand," he admitted, and he seemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact.

Regulus sighed. Why was he explaining this to him? Potter continued to stare at him with obvious curiosity.

"She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy… so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Orion." His voice was glum by the time he finished.

"But now you're unhappy," he pointed out.

"And?" Regulus challenged.

"That doesn't seem fair." He shrugged, but his eyes were still intense.

Regulus laughed without humour— life wasn’t something that was fair to anyone. Regulus had learnt that the tough way. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair."

"I believe I have heard that somewhere before," Potter agreed dryly.

"So that's all," Regulus insisted, wondering why he was still staring at him that way.

His gaze became appraising. "You put on a good show," he said slowly. "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see."

Regulus grimaced at him, resisting the impulse to slap all his stupid assumptions away, and looked away.

“Am I wrong?”

Regulus tried to ignore him— key word, tried.

“I didn’t think so,” he murmured smugly.

“Why does it matter to you?” he asked, irritated. Regulus kept his eyes away, watching the teacher makes his rounds.

"That's a very good question," he muttered, so quietly that Regulus wondered if he was talking to himself.

However, after a few seconds of silence, Regulus decided that was the only answer he was going to get.

Regulus sighed, scowling at the blackboard.

"Am I annoying you?" Potter asked. He sounded amused.

He glanced at him without thinking… and told the truth again. "Not exactly. I'm more annoyed at myself.”

”My face is not so easy to read but my eyes are another story — my mother always calls me an open book." Regulus frowned.

"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite everything that he’d said and he'd guessed, Potter sounded like he meant it.

"You must be a good reader then," Regulus replied.

“Usually,” He smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultra-white teeth.

Mr. Kettleburn called the class to order them, and Regulus turned with relief to listen. He was in disbelief that he'd just explained his dreary life to this bizarre, beautiful boy who may or may not despise him. Potter had seemed engrossed in their conversation, but now Regulus could see, from the corner of his eye, that he was leaning away from him again, his hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension.

Regulus tried to appear attentive as Mr. Kettleburn illustrated, with transparencies on the overhead projector, what he had seen without difficulty through the microscope. But his thoughts were unmanageable.

When the bell finally rang, Potter rushed as swiftly and as gracefully from the room as he had last Monday. And, like last Monday, Regulus stared after him in amazement.

Emmeline skipped quickly to his side and picked up Regulus’ books for him. Regulus imagined her with a wagging tail.

"That was awful," she groaned. "They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had Potter for a partner."

"I didn't have any trouble with it," Regulus said, stung by her assumption. ”I’ve done this type of lab work before.”

“Potter seemed friendly enough today,” she continued as they shrugged into their raincoats. She didn’t seem pleased about it.

Regulus tried to sound indifferent. “I wonder what was with him last Monday.”

Regulus couldn’t concentrate in Emmeline’ chatter as they walked to Gym, and R.E. didn’t do much to hold his attention, either. Emmeline was on his team today. She chivalrously covered his position as well as her own, so Regulus wool-gathering was only interrupted when it was his turn to serve; his team ducked warily out of the way every time he was up.

The rain was just a mist as he walked to the parking lot, but Regulus was happier when he was in the dry cab. He got the heater running, for once not caring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine. Regulus unzipped his jacket, put the hood down, and fluffed his damp curly hair out so the heater could dry it on the way home.

Regulus looked around him to make sure it was clear. That's when he noticed the still, figure. James Potter was leaning against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from him, and staring intently in his direction.

As Regulus looked into his now warm ochre-golden toned eyes, saw the twinkle of mischief glimmering on them, he knew that he had only scratched the surface of who James Potter was.

Well… at least he had an eternity to figure it out.

Regulus swiftly looked away and threw the truck into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in his haste. Lucky for the Toyota, Regulus stomped on the brake in time. It was just the sort of car that his truck would make scrap metal of. Regulus took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of his car, and cautiously pulled out again, with greater success. He stared straight ahead as he passed the Volvo, but from a peripheral peek, Regulus would swear he saw Potter laughing.

Chapter Text

There was no specific reason as to why Regulus Black’ mind seemed clearer at night, it just did.

It was as if the sun that always seemed to be blanketed by a thick layer of clouds set a fog of disorientation and thoughtlessness over his brain that could only be cleared up the stillness of a dark sky. The air always seemed fresher and easier to breath, everything was calmer and at peace. It was like breathing again after holding your breath for too long and Regulus was addicted to the clear feeling the hours after 9pm gave him.

That’s why somehow, when Regulus opened his eyes in the morning, something was different.

It was the light. It was still the grey-green light of a cloudy day in the forest, but it was clearer somehow. Regulus realized there was no fog veiling his window.

He jumped up to look outside, and then groaned in horror.

A fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of his truck, and whitened the road. But that wasn't the worst part. All the rain from yesterday had frozen solid — coating the needles on the trees in fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick. Regulus had enough trouble not falling down when the ground was dry; it might be safer for him to go back to bed now.

Orion had left for work before Regulus got downstairs. In a lot of ways, living with his father was like having his own place, and Regulus found myself revelling in the aloneness instead of being lonely.

Regulus threw down a quick bowl of cereal and some orange juice from the carton. He felt excited to go to school, and that scared him. Regulus knew it wasn't the stimulating learning environment he was anticipating, or seeing his new set of friends. If Regulus was being honest with himself, Regulus knew he was eager to get to school because he would see James Potter. And that was very, very stupid.

Regulus should be avoiding him entirely after his brainless and embarrassing babbling yesterday. And he was also suspicious of Potter; why should he lie about his eyes? Regulus was still frightened of the hostility he sometimes felt emanating from him, and Regulus was still tongue-tied whenever he pictured Potter perfect face. Regulus was well aware that his league and Potter’ league were spheres that did not touch— not that Regulus found himself ugly, but he didn’t have that beautiful grace that the Potters had—. So he shouldn't be at all anxious to see him today.

It took every ounce of Regulus’ concentration to make it down the icy brick driveway alive. He almost lost his balance when he finally got to the truck, but Regulus managed to cling to the side mirror and save himself. Clearly, today was going to be nightmarish.

Driving to school, he distracted himself from his fear of falling and Regulus’ unwanted speculations about James Potter by thinking about Emmeline and Gilderoy, and the obvious difference in how teenage people responded to Regulus here. He was sure he looked exactly the same as he had in Phoenix. Maybe it was just that the people back home had watched him pass slowly through all the awkward phases of adolescence and transitioning and still thought of him that way. Perhaps it was because Regulus was a novelty here, where novelties were few and far between. Possibly his crippling clumsiness was seen as endearing rather than pathetic, casting Regulus as a someone in dire need of help. Whatever the reason, Emmeline’ puppy dog behaviour and Gilderoy’ apparent rivalry with her were disconcerting. Regulus wasn't sure if he didn't prefer being ignored.

His truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered the roads. Regulus drove very slowly, though, not wanting to carve a path of destruction through Main Street.

When he got out of his truck at school, Regulus saw why he'd had so little trouble. Something silver caught his eye, and he walked to the back of the truck — carefully holding the side for support — to examine his tires.

There were thin chains criss-crossed in diamond shapes around them. Orion had gotten up who knows how early to put snow chains on his truck. Regulus throat suddenly felt tight. He wasn't really used to being taken care of, and Orion’ unspoken concern caught him by surprise.

Regulus was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fight back the sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when he heard an odd sound.

It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. Regulus looked up, startled, eyes wide open. His eyes seemed to see everything that was happening around him.

He saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, the way it does in films.

Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make Regulus’ brain work much faster, and he was able to absorb in clear detail several things at once.

James Potter was standing four cars down from Regulus, staring at him in complete horror. His face stood out from the sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. But more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of his truck, and he was standing between them. Regulus didn't even have time to close his eyes.

A rush of fear invaded Regulus’ body as he blankly stared ahead. Was this it? Was he going to die at seventeen years old without having accomplished anything worthwhile? His body stood there, readily accepting his impeding doom. But just before he heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit him, but not from the direction he was expecting. Regulus head cracked against icy black-top, and he felt something solid and cold pining him to the ground. Regulus was lying on the pavement behind the tan car he’d parked next to. But he didn’t have the chance to notice anything else, because the van was still coming.

It had curled gratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning and sliding, was about to collide with him again.

A low oath made Regulus aware that someone was with him, and the voice was impossible not to recognise.

Two long hands shot out protectively in front of him, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from Regulus’ face, the large hands fitting providentially into a dent in the side of the van’s body.

Then his hands moved so fast they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something was dragging Regulus, swinging his legs around like a rag doll's, till they hit the tire of the tan car. A groaning metallic thud hurt his ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt — exactly where, a second ago, his legs had been. It was absolutely silent for one long second before the screaming began. In the abrupt bedlam, Regulus could hear more than one person shouting his name. But more clearly than all the yelling, he could hear Potter.

His low, frantic voice in his ear.

"Regulus? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." his voice sounded strange. Regulus tried to sit up, and realized Potter was holding him against the side of his body in an iron grasp.

"Be careful," Potter warned as Regulus struggled. "I think you hit your head pretty hard."

Regulus became aware of a throbbing ache centred above his left ear.

"Ow," he said, surprised.

“That’s what I thought.” Potter voice, amazingly sounded like he was suppressing laughter but Regulus’ brain was not focused on that at the moment.

“A hard blow to the head can shake your brain inside the skull. It can potentially result in bruises, broken blood vessels, or nerve damage to the brain,” Regulus started, almost robotically and not being able to see Potter’ worried expression. “A hard hit doesn’t cause bleeding or an opening in the skull could be a closed brain injury. Proper procedure mandates that one should apply firm pressure to the wound with sterile gauze or a clean cloth. But don’t apply direct pressure to the wound in case of suspected skull fracture. Watch for changes in breath and alertness. If the person shows no sign of circulation— no breathing, coughing or movement— begin CPR.”

Regulus’ next movements were rigid. He looked at himself, he was responsive and didn’t seem to have any severe injuries.

“Reduce movement… wait for emergency responders… head injuries can go undetected. Hospital, need a hospital— emergency room, maybe MRI—”

“Regulus, you’re fine,” Potter voice was heard by Regulus but his brain worked faster than ordinary people. He was going over hundreds— possibly thousands of possible outcomes of how he could had hit his head, including fatally.”Regulus, look at me…”

“MRIs are helpful if symptoms continue for forty-eight hours or more after injury or if symptoms worsen. No visibly injury… but people who suffer from concussion maybe not always exhibit symptoms that are apparent to others,” Regulus rambled under his breath. “Brain bleeding is a possibility… symptoms of bleeding in the brain may gradually worsen or suddenly appear… severe headache, seizures, nausea or repeated vomiting, lethargy— “

“Regulus!” Potter said again, louder. “You’re fine, I promise. You’re going to be fine.”

Regulus stared at him with a vacant expression, then began shaking his head. His mind was still racing. Did Potter say ‘Fine?’ There were many cases of people being ‘fine’ and then suddenly dropping dead. He needed to get to the hospital. Regulus needed to be sure. Head injuries were no joke— Regulus was very much aware of that. His brother had died because of an injury like that.

But Regulus still had enough rationality to wonder how Potter had gotten to him that quickly.

"How in the…" he trailed off, trying to clear his head, get his bearings. "How did you get over here so fast?"

"I was standing right next to you, Regulus," Potter said, his tone serious again.

Regulus turned to sit up, and this time Potter let him, releasing his hold around Regulus waist and sliding as far from he as he could in the limited space. Regulus looked at his concerned, innocent expression and was disoriented again by the force of his gold-coloured eyes. What was he asking him?

And then they found them, a crowd of people with tears streaming down their faces, shouting at each other, shouting at them.

"Don't move," someone instructed.

I know, Regulus snapped inwardly. I know the proper procedure. I know that.

"Get Peter out of the van!" someone else shouted.

There was a flurry of activity around them. Regulus tried to get up, but Potter’ cold hand pushed his shoulder down.

"Just stay put for now."

"But it's cold," he complained. It surprised Regulus when Potter chuckled under his breath. There was an edge to the sound.

"You were over there," Regulus suddenly remembered, and his chuckle stopped short. "You were by your car."

His expression turned hard. "No, I wasn't."

"I saw you." All around them was chaos. Regulus could hear the gruffer voices of adults arriving on the scene.

But he obstinately held on to their argument; he was right, and Potter was going to admit it.

“Regulus, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." Potter unleashed the full, devastating power of his eyes on him, as if trying to communicate something crucial.

"No." Regulus set his jaw.

The gold in his eyes blazed. "Please, Reg."

"Why?" he demanded, completely ignoring the flutter in his stomach because of the nickname.

"Trust me," Potter pleaded, his soft voice overwhelming.

Regulus could hear the sirens now. "Will you promise to explain everything to me later?"

"Fine," he snapped, abruptly exasperated.

"Fine," Regulus repeated angrily.

It took six EMTs and two teachers — Mr. Binns and Coach Rowena — to shift the van far enough away from them to bring the stretchers in. Potter vehemently refused his, and Regulus tried to do the same, but the traitor told them he'd hit his head and probably had a concussion. Regulus almost died of humiliation when they put on the neck brace. It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly as they loaded him in the back of the ambulance. Potter got to ride in the front. It was maddening.

To make matters worse, Chief Black arrived before they could get him safely away.

"Regulus!" he yelled in panic when he recognized him on the stretcher.

"I'm completely fine, Ori — Father," he sighed. "There's nothing wrong with me."

Orion turned to the closest EMT for a second opinion. Regulus tuned him out to consider the jumble of inexplicable  images churning chaotically in his head. When they'd lifted him away from the car, Regulus had seen the deep dent in the tan car's bumper — a very distinct dent that fit the contours of Potter’ shoulders… as if he had braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame…

And then there was his family, looking on from the distance, with expressions that ranged from disapproval to fury but held no hint of concern for their brother's safety. Regulus tried to think of a logical solution that could explain what he had just seen — a solution that excluded the assumption that he was insane.

Naturally, the ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital. Regulus felt ridiculous the whole time they were unloading him. What made it worse was that Potter simply glided through the hospital doors under his own power. Regulus ground his teeth together.

They put him in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel-patterned curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on his arm and a thermometer under his tongue. Since no one bothered pulling the curtain around to give Regulus some privacy, he decided he wasn't obligated to wear the stupid-looking neck brace any more. When the nurse walked away, Regulus quickly unfastened the Velcro and threw it under the bed.

There was another flurry of hospital personnel, another stretcher brought to the bed next to me. Regulus recognized Petter Pettigrew from his Government class beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around his head. Peter looked a hundred times worse than Regulus felt. But he was staring anxiously at him.

"Regulus, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine, Peter — you look awful, are you all right?" As they spoke, nurses began unwinding his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices all over his forehead and left cheek.

He ignored him. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong…" He winced as one nurse started dabbing at his face.

"Don't worry about it; you missed me."

"How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there, and then you were gone…"

"Umm… Potter pulled me out of the way."

He looked confused. "Who?"

"James Potter — he was standing next to me." he'd always been a terrible liar; Regulus didn't sound convincing at all.

"Potter? I didn't see him… wow, it was all so fast, I guess. Is he okay?"

"I think so. He's here somewhere, but they didn't make him use a stretcher."

Regulus knew he wasn’t crazy. What had happened? There was no way to explain what he’d seen.

They wheeled him away then, to X-ray his head. Regulus told them there was nothing wrong, and he was right.

Not even a concussion. He asked if he could leave, but the nurse said Regulus had to talk to a doctor first. So he was trapped in the ER, waiting, harassed by Peter’ constant apologies and promises to make it up to him— not that it was needed, Regulus had forgiven him already.

No matter how many times he tried to convince Peter he was fine, he continued to torment himself. Finally, Regulus closed his eyes and ignored him. He kept up a remorseful mumbling.

"Is he sleeping?" a musical voice asked. Regulus eyes flew open.

Potter was standing at the foot of his bed, smirking. Regulus glared at him. It wasn't easy — it would have been more natural to ogle.

"Hey, James, I'm really sorry —" Peter began.

Potter lifted a hand to stop him.

"No blood, no foul," he said, flashing his brilliant teeth. He moved to sit on the edge of Peter’ bed, facing him. He smirked again— Regulus wished he could wipe that off immediately.

"So, what's the verdict?" he asked Regulus.

"There's nothing wrong with me at all, but they won't let me go," he complained. "How come you aren't strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?"

"It's all about who you know," he answered. "But don't worry, I came to spring you."

Then a doctor walked around the corner, and Regulus mouth fell open. He was young, he had raven jet black hair too… and he was handsomer than any movie star he'd ever seen. He was also pale, though, and tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Orion’ description, this had to be Potter’ father.

“So, Mr Black,” Dr. Potter said in a remarkably appealing voice, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Regulus said, for the last time, he hoped.

He walked to the light-board on the wall over his head, and turned it on.

"Your X-rays look good," he said. "Does your head hurt? James said you hit it pretty hard."

"It's fine," Regulus repeated with a sigh, throwing a quick scowl towards Potter.

The doctor's cool fingers probed lightly along his skull. He noticed when Regulus winced.

"Tender?" he asked.

"Not really." he'd had worse.

Regulus heard a chuckle, and looked over to see Potter’ patronizing smile. Regulus eyes narrowed.

"Well, your father is in the waiting room — you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all."

"Can't I go back to school?" Regulus asked, imagining Orion trying to be attentive.

"Maybe you should take it easy today."

He glanced at Potter. "Does he get to go to school?"

"Someone has to spread the good news that we survived," Potter said smugly.

"Actually," Dr. Potter corrected, "Most of the school seems to be in the waiting room."

"Oh no," Regulus moaned, covering his face with his hands.

Dr. Potter raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to stay?"

"No, no!" Regulus insisted, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and hopping down quickly. Too quickly— he staggered, and Dr. Potter caught him. He looked concerned.

"I'm fine," Regulus assured him again. No need to tell him Dr. Potter that his balance problems had nothing to do with hitting his head.

"Take some Tylenol for the pain," he suggested as he steadied Regulus.

"It doesn't hurt that bad," he insisted.

"It sounds like you were extremely lucky," Dr. Potter said, smiling as he signed Regulus chart with a flourish.

"Lucky Pott— J-James happened to be standing next to me," Regulus amended with a hard glance at the subject of his statement, momentarily ignoring the fact that he had called Potter by his name.

"Oh, well, yes," Dr. Potter agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of him. Then he looked away, at Peter, and walked to the next bed. Regulus intuition flickered; the doctor was in on it.

"I'm afraid that you'll have to stay with us just a little bit longer," he said to Peter, and began checking his cuts.

As soon as the doctor's back was turned, Regulus moved to Potter’ side.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he hissed under his breath. Potter took a step back from him, his jaw suddenly clenched.

"Your father is waiting for you," he said through his teeth.

Regulus glanced at Dr. Potter and Peter.

"I'd like to speak with you alone, if you don't mind," he pressed.

Potter glared, and then turned his back and strode down the long room. Regulus nearly had to run to keep up. As soon as they turned the corner into a short hallway, he spun around to face Regulus.

"What do you want?" he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were cold.

His unfriendliness didn’t really intimidate Regulus. But his words still came out with less severity than he'd intended. "You owe me an explanation," he reminded him.

"I saved your life — I don't owe you anything."

Regulus flinched back from the resentment in his voice. "You promised."

“Regulus, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about." Potter tone was cutting.

“Oh God, you’re so annoying,” Regulus replied. “You need to stop lying or just shut up, if you’re going to be giving me excuses.”

“That’s rude.”

“Shut up,” Regulus repeated, as his eyes met Potter’, “Please, just be honest about what happened.”

Potter smiled for a moment, confusing Regulus with his one-hundred and eighty degree mood change. “Perfect. See? You’re so lovely.”

Regulus stared at him stunned for a moment longer, expression bored and exasperated— but mostly confused about Potter’ quick change in behaviour around him.

His temper flared now, and he glared defiantly at Potter. “I-I… hate you… and there’s nothing wrong with my head.” Regulus said, seemingly back to his regular self. He wasn’t in a state of shock or fury, instead he stood there with an aura of neutrality and a blank expression on his face. Regulus looked up to Potter, borderline intimidating, but if he was intimidated by him, Potter didn’t show it.

“I was perfectly conscious of my surroundings,” Regulus had a one of his famous icy-glares now. “Unless, you’re trying to imply that I’m not a trustworthy source? That there’s actually something wrong in my head? Because if you are, I’m profoundly offended.”

Regulus’ mind was his pride and joy, he didn’t take kindly to people doubting him, questioning him, or disagreeing when he knew he was right.

Potter glared back. "What do you want from me, Regulus?"

"I want to know the truth," he said. "I want to know why I'm lying for you."

"What do you think happened?" he snapped.

It all came out in a rush.

"All I know is that you weren't anywhere near me — Peter didn't see you, either, so don't tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush us both — and it didn't, and your hands left dents in the side of it — and you left a dent in the other car, and you're not hurt at all — and the van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up…" Regulus could hear how crazy it sounded, and he couldn't continue. Regulus was so mad, he could feel the tears coming; he tried to force them back by grinding his teeth together— he was not going to show any weaknesses in front of Potter of all people.

He was staring at Regulus incredulously. But his face was tense, defensive.

"You think I lifted a van off you?" His tone questioned Regulus sanity, but it only made him more suspicious. It was like a perfectly delivered line by a skilled actor.

Regulus merely nodded once, jaw tight.

"Nobody will believe that, you know." Potter voice held an edge of derision now.

"I'm not going to tell anybody." he said each word slowly, carefully controlling his anger.

Surprise flitted across Potter face. "Then why does it matter?"

"It matters to me," Regulus insisted. "I don't like to lie — so there'd better be a good reason why I'm doing it."

"Can't you just thank me and get over it?"

"Thank you." Regulus waited, fuming and expectant.

"You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"No."

"In that case… I hope you enjoy disappointment."

And then he turned his back on him and walked away.

Regulus was so angry, it took him a few minutes until he could move. When Regulus could walk, he made his way slowly to the exit at the end of the hallway.

They scowled at each other in silence. Regulus was the first to speak, trying to keep himself focused. He was in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.

"Why did you even bother?" Regulus asked frigidly.

Potter paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable.

"I don't know," he whispered.

~

The waiting room was more unpleasant than Regulus had feared. It seemed like every face he knew in Forks was there, staring at him. Orion rushed to his side; Regulus put up his hands.

"There's nothing wrong with me," he assured him sullenly. Regulus was still aggravated, not in the mood for chitchat.

"What did the doctor say?"

"Dr. Potter saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home." he sighed. Emmeline and Pandora and Gilderoy were all there, beginning to converge on them. "Let's go," Regulus urged.

His father put one arm behind his back, not quite touching Regulus, and led him to the glass doors of the exit. Regulus waved sheepishly at his friends, hoping to convey that they didn't need to worry any more. It was a huge relief— the first time he'd ever felt that way — to get into the cruiser.

They drove in silence. Regulus was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely knew Orion was there. He was positive that Potter’ defensive behaviour in the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things he still could hardly believe he'd witnessed.

When they got to the house, Orion finally spoke.

"Um… you'll need to call Walburga." He hung his head, guilty.

Regulus was appalled. "You told Mother!"

"Sorry."

He slammed the cruiser's door a little harder than necessary on his way out.

His mother was in hysterics, of course. Regulus had to tell her he felt fine at least thirty times before she would calm down. She begged him to come home — forgetting the fact that home was empty at the moment — but her pleas were easier to resist than he would have thought. Regulus was consumed by the mystery— and by the fact that he didn’t want to go back to Phoenix any time soon, especially if he’s mother was going to control every single thing he did.

Plus, he was more than a little curious by Potter himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Regulus wasn't as eager to escape Forks as he should be, as any normal, sane person would be.

He decided he might as well go to bed early that night. Orion continued to watch him anxiously, and it was getting on his nerves. Regulus stopped on his way to grab three Tylenol from the bathroom. They did help, and, as the pain eased, he drifted to sleep.

That was the first night Regulus dreamed of James Potter.

He dreamed about his tan skin, black hair that was just the right amount of messy, and Potter’ dimples that showed when he smiled brightly enough. The one thing Regulus wished wasn’t there, were his glasses— don’t get him wrong, though. The glasses suited Potter, but Regulus wanted to see his eyes clearly. And he wanted more than anything that Potter eyes kept meeting his.

Eyes were what draw Regulus in. He couldn’t explain why or how, but he had to like what he saw in someone’s eyes to give them the time of the day. If Regulus saw something he didn’t like— coldness, greed, ire— things like that, drove him away. It was almost as if he could judge a person’s character through their eyes.

In Potter’ eyes, Regulus saw warmth, like the bloody sun— the type of warmth that if you got too close, it could kill you. Illuminating and encompassing, yet very much blinding. Regulus couldn’t bear to look into them for too long.

He would get burnt if he did.

However, the darkness in Potter eyes, was what Regulus couldn’t run away from.

He thirsted to know what the Potters secret was and he was going to find it.

~

ON THE OTHER SIDE…

By the time James arrived home, it was completely dark. The silhouette of his parents, Euphemia and Fleamont— Effie and Monty for short— were waiting for him on the front steps.

I hope you have a good explanation for what happened today. Mary is out for blood. His mum’s voice rang in James’ head. He only had the energy to huff in reply. He knew this was coming and he hadn’t thought of any single excuse for his actions, There wasn’t one at all.

Look out for Remus. He’s not necessarily angry but… he’s more resolved. This time, it was his dad that warmed James, as the conjured image of what he meant had James doing anything but freeze.

James actually had come up with a perfectly sound explanation. Just suppose he hadn't done anything to stop the van from crushing the boy... he recoiled from that thought. But if he had been hit, if he'd been mangled and bleeding, the red fluid spilling, wasting on the black top, the scent of the fresh blood pulsing through the air…

James shuddered again, but not just in horror. Part of him shivered in desire. No, he would not have been able to watch him bleed without exposing them all in a much more flagrant and shocking way.

It was a perfectly sound excuse...but James wouldn't use it. It was too shameful. And he hadn't thought of it until long after the fact, regardless.

Try not to make more of a spectacle of yourself. You're in enough trouble as it is.

James took a deep breath and his mum released him from the hold she had on him.

Damn, son, you're a mess, his dad added, sympathy in his tone.

"Bite me," James muttered under his breath, and he heard his low chuckle.

His parents were the type that didn't hold grudges, and James probably ought to be more grateful for they’re easy going nature. But James could see that Remus’ intentions made sense to his parents, that they were considering how it might be the best course of action.

The rage simmered, barely under control. Yes, his parents were stronger than he was, but they'd yet to beat James in a racing match. They usually claimed that this was because he cheated, but hearing thoughts was just as much a part of who James was as his father cleverness and his mother kindness were part of them. They were somehow evenly matched in a fight.

A fight? Was that where this was headed? Was James going to fight with his family over a human he barely knew?

James thought about that for a moment, thought about the fragile feel of Regulus’ body in his arms in juxtaposition with Remus, Mary, and their family-supernaturally strong and fast, killing machines by nature…

Yes, James would fight for Regulus. Against his family. He shuddered. But it wasn't fair to leave him undefended when he was the one who'd put him in danger.

James recalled the way Regulus’ brown, almost black, curls fell in his eyes, framing his face like a gentle dark halo. It was something hypnotic — for a human— the way his clothes made Regulus skin look pale, and even under the sunlight, Regulus was barley a shade above being washed out yet he still looked radiant.

It was like staring at a watercolour of dark light. His dark-brown hair against his milky skin.

Yeah, James was definitely going to fight for him.

Despite those thoughts, James couldn't win alone, though, not against the most of them, and he wondered who his allies would be. Fleamont, certainly. He would not fight anyone, but he would be wholly against Mary’ and Remus’ designs. That might be all James needed. He would see...

Euphemia, doubtful. She would not side against James either, and she would hate to disagree with anyone in the family, but she would be for any plan that kept her family intact. Her first priority would not be rightness, but James, her son. If James’ father was the soul of their family, then his mother was the heart.

He gave them a leader who deserved following; she made that following into an act of love. They all loved each other— even under the fury James felt towards Remus and Mary right now, even planning to fight them to save Regulus, James knew that he loved them.

Lily would add her input and be rational about the incident, but she would probably support Mary's action as her partner. Lily was one of the most smart people James knew, but for her, love always came first and Mary was the love of Lily' life.

Sirius...James had no idea. It would probably depend on what he saw coming. He would side with the winner, he imagined.

So, he would have to do this without help. James wasn't a match for them alone, but he wasn't going to let the Regulus be hurt because of him. That might mean evasive action...

James’ rage dulled a bit with the sudden, black humour. He could imagine how Regulus would react to his kidnapping him. Of course, James rarely guessed his reactions right—but what other reaction could he have besides terror?

James wasn't sure how to manage that, though- kidnapping Regulus. He wouldn't be able to stand being close to him for very long. Perhaps he would just deliver him back to his mother. Even that much would be fraught with danger. For him. And also for James, he realized suddenly. If he were to kill Regulus by accident... He wasn't certain exactly how much pain that would cause him, but he knew it would be multifaceted and intense.

Tosser! Wanker! Git! Jackass! Prat, irresponsible fool! You’ve clearly lost the plot! Mary kept up a constant stream of insults at the top of her mental lungs. It made it hard to hear the others, but James ignored her as best he could. His parents were right about Remus. He was sure of his course.

Sirius was troubled, worrying about Remus, flipping through images of the future. No matter which direction Remus came at the boy, Sirius always saw him there, blocking him. Interesting...neither Mary nor Lily was with him in these visions. So Remus planned to work alone. That would even things up.

Remus was the best, certainly the most experienced fighter among them. James’ one advantage laid in that he could hear his moves before he made them.

James had never fought more than playfully with Mary, Lily or Remus —just horsing around. He felt sick at the thought of really trying to hurt Remus...

No, not that. Just to block him. That was all.

James concentrated on Sirius, memorizing Remus’ different avenues of attack. As he did that, Sirius’ visions shifted, moving further and further away from the Blacks house. James was cutting him off earlier...

Stop that, James! It can't happen this way. I won't let it.

He didn't answer him, James just kept watching.

Sirius began searching farther ahead, into the misty, unsure realm of distant possibilities. Everything was shadowy and vague. James went straight to the dining room. The room was, of course, never used for its intended purpose. But it was furnished with a long oval mahogany table surrounded by chairs— they were scrupulous about having all the correct props in place.

His father liked to use it as a conference room.

In a group with such strong and disparate personalities, sometimes it was necessary to discuss things in a calm, seated manner.

James had a feeling that setting was not going to help much today.

Fleamont sat in his usual seat at the eastern head of the room, his mum was beside him— they held hands on top of the table. James had always admired the loved shared between his parents, and even wished for something like that for himself but all that disappear the moment James became what he is today— a thirsty, sucking, monster.

His mother’s eyes were on him, their golden depths full of concern

Stay. It was her only thought.

James wished he could smile at his mum, but he had no reassurance for her now.

James sat on his father’s other side. Effie reached around him to put her free hand on his shoulder. She had no idea of what was about to start; she was just worrying about him.

Monty had a better sense of what was coming. His lips were pressed tightly together and his forehead was creased. The expression looked too old for his young face.

As everyone else sat, James could see the lines being drawn. Mary sat directly across from Fleamont, on the other end of the long table. She glared at him, never looking away.

Lily sat beside her, her face and thoughts both wry.

Remus hesitated, and then went to stand against the wall behind Mary. He was decided, regardless of the outcome of this discussion. James teeth locked together.

Sirius was the last to come in, and his eyes were focused on something far away—the future, still too indistinct for him to make use of it. Without seeming to think about it, he sat next to Effie. He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. Remus twitched uneasily and considered joining him, but he kept his place.

James took a deep breath. He had started this— he should speak first.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking first at Mary, then Remus and then Lily. "I didn't mean to put any of you at risk. It was thoughtless, and I take full responsibility for my hasty action."

Mary glared at him balefully. "What do you mean, 'take full responsibility'? Are you going to fix it?"

"Not the way you mean," James said, working to keep his voice even and quiet. "I'm willing to leave now, if that makes things better.” If I believe that Regulus will be safe, if I believe that none of you will touch him.

James amended in his head.

"No son," His mother murmured. "No, James."

He patted her hand. "It's just a few years."

"Effie’s right, though," Lily said. "You can't go anywhere now. That would be the opposite of helpful. We have to know what people are thinking, now more than ever."

"Sirius will catch anything major," he disagreed.

Fleamont shook his head. "I think Lily is right, James. The boy will be more likely to talk if you disappear. It's all of us leave, or none of us."

"He won't say anything," James insisted quickly. Mary was building up to the explosion, and he wanted this fact out there first.

"You don't know his mind," His dad reminded me.

"I know this much. Sirius, back me up."

Sirius stared up at James wearily. "I can't see what will happen if we just ignore this." He glanced at Mary and Remus.

No, he couldn't see that future— not when Mary and Remus were so decided against ignoring the incident.

Mary’ palm smacked down on the table with a loud bang. "We can't allow the human a chance to say anything. Monty, you must see that. Even if we decided to all disappear, it's not safe to leave stories behind us. We live so differently from the rest of our kind— you know there are those who would love an excuse to point fingers. We have to be more careful than anyone else!"

"We've left rumours behind us before," James reminded her.

"Just rumours and suspicions, James. Not eyewitnesses and evidence!"

"Evidence!" he scoffed.

But Remus was nodding, his eyes hard.

"Mary-" Fleamont began.

“Let me finish, Monty. It doesn't have to be any big production. The boy hit his head today. So maybe that injury turns out to be more serious than it looked." Mary shrugged. "Every mortal goes to sleep with the chance of never waking up. The others would expect us to clean up after ourselves. Technically, that would make it James' job, but this is obviously beyond him. You know I'm capable of control. I would leave no evidence behind me."

"Yes, Mary, we all know how proficient an assassin you are," he snarled.

She hissed at him, furious.

"James, please," Monty said. Then he turned to Mary. "Mary, I looked the other way in Rochester because I felt that you were owed your justice. The men you killed had wronged you monstrously. This is not the same situation. The Black boy is an innocent."

"It's not personal, Monty," Mary said through her teeth. "It's to protect us all." There was a brief moment of silence while his father thought through his answer. When he nodded, Mary's eyes lit up. She should have known better. Even if James hadn't been able to read his thoughts, he could have anticipated his next words. His father never compromised.

"I know you mean well, Mary, but...I'd like very much for our family to be worth protecting. The occasional...accident or lapse in control is a regrettable part of who we are." It was very like him to include himself in the plural, though he had never had such a lapse himself. "To murder a blameless child in cold blood is another thing entirely. I believe the risk he presents, whether he speaks, his suspicions or not, is nothing to the greater risk. If we make exceptions to protect ourselves, we risk something much more important. We risk losing the essence of who we are."

James controlled his expression very carefully. It wouldn't do at all to grin. Or to applaud, as he wished he could. Mary scowled. "It's just being responsible."

"It's being callous," Fleamont corrected gently. "Every life is precious." Mary sighed heavily and her lower lip pouted out. Lily patted her shoulder.

"It'll be fine, babe," she encouraged in a low voice.

"No," Mary moaned. "We just got settled. I don't want to start on my sophomore year in high school again!"

"You could keep your present age, of course," Fleamont said.

"And have to move again that much sooner?" she countered. His father shrugged.

"I like it here! There's so little sun, we get to be almost normal."

"Well, we certainly don't have to decide now. We can wait and see if it becomes necessary. James seems certain of the Black boy's silence."

She snorted.

But James was no longer worried about his sister. He could see that she would go along with his father decision, not matter how infuriated she was with him. Their conversation had moved on to unimportant details.

Remus remained unmoved.

He understood why. Before he and Sirius had met, he'd lived in a combat zone, a relentless theatre of war.

He knew the consequences of flouting the rules— he'd seen the grisly aftermath with his own eyes.

It said much that he had not tried to calm Mary down with his extra faculties, nor did he now try to rile her up. He was holding himself aloof from this discussion- above it.

"Remus," James said.

"The question," Monty continued, "Is whether we should move on?"

Remus met his gaze, his face expressionless.

"He won't pay for my mistake. I won't allow that."

"He benefits from it, then? He should have died today, James. I would only set that right."

James repeated himself, emphasizing each word. "I will not allow it."

His eyebrows shot up. He wasn't expecting this— he hadn't imagined that James would act to stop him.

He shook his head once. "I won't let Padfoot live in danger, even a slight danger. You don't feel about anyone the way I feel about him, James, and you haven't lived through what I've lived through, whether you've seen my memories or not. You don't understand."

"I'm not disputing that, Remus. But I'm telling you now, I won't allow you to hurt Regulus Black."

They stared at each other— not glaring, but measuring the opposition. James felt him sample the mood around him, testing his determination.

"Moony," Sirius said, interrupting them.

He held James’ gaze for a moment more, and then looked at him. "Don't bother telling me you can protect yourself, Pads. I already know that. I've still got to—"

"That's not what I'm going say," Sirius interrupted. "I was going to ask you for a favour."

James saw what was on his mind, and his mouth fell open with an audible gasp. James stared at him, shocked, only vaguely aware that everyone besides Padfoot and Moony was now eyeing him warily.

"I know you love me. Thanks. But I would really appreciate it if you didn't try to kill Regulus. First of all, James’ serious and I don't want you two fighting. Secondly, he's my friend. At least, he's going to be."

It was clear as glass in his head: Padfoot, smiling, with his icy white arm around Regulus’ warm, shoulders. And Regulus was smiling, too, his arm around Padfoot’ waist.

The vision was rock solid; only the timing of it was unsure.

"But...Sirius..." Remus gasped. James couldn't manage to turn his head to see his expression. He couldn't tear himself away from the image in Sirius’ head in order to hear his.

"I'm going to love him someday, Moons. I'll be very put out with you if you don't let him be."

James was still locked into Sirius’ thoughts. He saw the future shimmer as Moony’ resolve floundered in the face of his unexpected request.

"Ah," he sighed— Remus indecision had cleared a new future. "See? Regulus's not going to say anything. There's nothing to worry about."

The way he said the his name...like they were already close confidants...

"Padfoot," James choked. "What...does this...?"

"I told you there was a change coming. I don't know, Prongs." But he locked his jaw, and James could see that there was more. He was trying not to think about it; he was focusing very hard on Remus suddenly, though he was too stunned to have progressed much in his decision making. Sirius did this sometimes when he was trying to keep something from him.

"What, Sirius? What are you hiding?"

He heard Lily grumble. She always got frustrated when Padfoot and he had these kinds of conversations.

He shook his head, trying to not let James in.

"Is it about the boy?" he demanded. "Is it about Regulus?"

Sirius had his teeth gritted in concentration, but when James spoke Regulus’ name, he slipped. His slip only lasted the tiniest portion of a second, but that was long enough.

"NO!" James shouted. He heard his chair hit the floor, and only then realized he was on my feet.

"James!" His father was on his feet, too, his arm on his shoulder. James was barely aware of him.

"It's solidifying," Sirius whispered. "Every minute you're more decided. Therese really only two ways left for him. It's one or the other, James."

James could see what he saw...but he could not accept it.

"No," he said again; there was no volume to his denial. His legs felt hollow, and he had to brace himself against the table.

"Will somebody please let the rest of us in on the mystery?" Lily complained.

"I have to leave," He whispered to Sirius, momentarily ignoring what his sister said.

"James, we've already been over that," Lily said loudly. "That's the best way to start the boy talking. Besides, if you take off, we won't know for sure if he's talking or not. You have to stay and deal with this."

"I don't see you going anywhere, Prongs," Sirius told him. "I don't know if you can leave any more." Think about it, he added silently. Think about leaving.

James saw what he meant. Yes, the idea of never seeing Regulus again was...painful. But it was also necessary. He couldn't sanction either future he'd apparently condemned him to.

I'm not entirely sure of Moony, Prongs, Sirius went on. If you leave, if he thinks he's a danger to us…

"I don't hear that," he contradicted him, still only halfway aware of our audience. Remus was wavering. He would not do something that would hurt Padfoot.

Not right this moment. Will you risk his life, leave him undefended?

"Why are you doing this to me?" James groaned. His head fell into his hands. He was not Regulus’ protector. He could not be that. Wasn't Sirius’ divided future enough proof of that?

I love him, too. Or I will. It's not the same, but I want him around for that.

"Love him, too?" James whispered, incredulous. For James, love was not something he could have. Not now nor ever.

Pads sighed. You are so blind, Prongs. Can't you see where you're headed? Can't you see where you already are? It's more inevitable than the sun rising in the east. See what I see...

James shook his head, horrified. "No." he tried to shut out the visions he revealed to him. "I don't have to follow that course. I'll leave. I will change the future."

"You can try," he said, his voice sceptical.

"Oh, come on!" Lily bellowed.

"Pay attention," Mary hissed. "Sirius sees him falling for a human! How classically Potter!" She made a gagging sound.

James scarcely heard her.

"What?" Remus said, startled. Then his quiet laugh echoed through the room. "Is that what's been going on?" He laughed again. "Tough break, Prongs."

James felt a hand on his shoulder, and he shook it off absently. He couldn't pay attention to him.

"Fall for a human?" His mother repeated in a stunned voice. "For the boy he saved today? Fall in love with him?"

"What do you see, Pads? Exactly," Remus demanded.

He turned toward him; James continued to stare numbly at the side of his face. "It all depends on whether he is strong enough or not. Either he'll kill Regulus himself" —he turned to meet his gaze again, glaring—

"Which would really irritate me, Prongs, not to mention what it would do to you —" he faced Remus again, "Or he'll be one of us someday."

Someone gasped; James didn't look to see who.

"That's not going to happen!" he was shouting again. "Either one!"

Sirius didn't seem to hear him. "It all depends," he repeated. "He may be just strong enough not to kill Regulus— but it will be close. It will take an amazing amount of control," he mused. "More even than Monty has. He may be just strong enough... The only thing he's not strong enough to do is stay away from him. That's a lost cause."

James couldn't find his voice. No one else seemed to be able to either. The room was still. He stared at Sirius, and everyone else stared at him. He could see his own horrified expression from five different viewpoints.

After a long moment, Fleamont sighed. "Well, this...complicates things."

"I'll say," Mary agreed. Mary’s voice was still close to laughter. Trust her to find the joke in the destruction of his life.

"I suppose the plans remain the same, though," His father said thoughtfully. "We'll stay, and watch. Obviously, no one will...hurt the boy."

James stiffened.

"No," Moony said quietly. "I can agree to that. If Padfoot sees only two ways—"

"No!" His voice was not a shout or a growl or a cry of despair, but some combination of the three. "No!"

He had to leave, to be away from the noise of their thoughts—Mary conflicted disgust, Lily’ hope for romance in his life, His father never ending patience...Worse: Sirius’ confidence. Remus’ confidence in that confidence. Worst of all: His mother’s... joy.

James stalked out of the room. Effie touched his arm as he passed, but he didn't acknowledge the gesture— he would apologise for that later.

He was running before he was out of the house. James cleared the river in one bound, and raced into the forest.

The rain was back again, falling so heavily that he was drenched in a few moments. James liked the thick sheet of water— it made a wall between him and the rest of the world. It closed him in, let him be alone.

James ran due east, over and through the mountains without breaking his straight course, until he could see the lights of Seattle on the other side of the sound. He stopped before he touched the borders of human civilization.

Shut in by the rain, all alone, James finally made himself look at what he had done— at the way he had mutilated the future.

First, the vision of Sirius and Regulus with their arms around each other— the trust and friendship was so obvious it shouted from the image. Regulus’ wide forest-green eyes were not bewildered in this vision, but still full of secrets— in this moment, they seemed to be happy secrets. He did not flinch away from Sirius’ cold arm.

What did it mean? How much did he know? In that still— life moment from the future, what did he think of him?

Then the other image, so much the same, yet now coloured by horror. Sirius and Regulus, their arms still wrapped around each other in trusting friendship. But now there was no difference between those arms— both were white, smooth as marble, hard as steel.

Regulus’ wide eyes were no longer forest-green. The irises were a shocking, vivid crimson. The secrets in them were unfathomable— acceptance or desolation? It was impossible to tell. His face was cold and immortal.

James shuddered. He could not suppress the questions, similar, but different: What did it mean— how had this come about? And what did he think of him now?

James could answer that last one. If he forced Regulus into this empty half— life through his weakness and selfishness, surely he would hate him.

But there was one more horrifying image— worse than any image he'd ever held inside his head. James own eyes, deep crimson with human blood, the eyes of the monster. Regulus’ broken body in his arms, ashy white, drained, lifeless. It was so concrete, so clear.

James couldn't stand to see this. Could not bear it. He tried to banish it from his mind, tried to see something else, anything else. Tried to see again the expression on his living face that had obstructed his view for the last chapter of his existence. All to no avail.

Padfoot’ bleak vision filled his head, and James writhed internally with the agony it caused. Meanwhile, the monster in him was overflowing with glee, jubilant at the likelihood of his success. It sickened him.

This could not be allowed. There had to be a way to circumvent the future. James would not let Sirius’ visions direct him. James could choose a different path. There was always a choice.

There had to be.

Chapter Text

In his dream, it was very dark, and what dim light there was, seemed to be radiating from Potter’ skin. Regulus couldn't see his face, just his back as he walked away from him, leaving him in the blackness. No matter how fast Regulus ran, he couldn't catch up to him; no matter how loud he called, Potter never turned.

Troubled, Regulus woke in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep again for what seemed like a very long time. After that, Potter was in his dreams nearly every night, but always on the periphery, never within reach.

The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing. It was most likely the worst time of Regulus’ life.

To his huge dismay, Regulus found himself the centre of attention for the rest of that week. Peter Pettigrew was impossible, following him around, obsessed with making amends to him somehow. Regulus tried to convince him, that what he wanted more than anything else was for him to forget all about it — especially since nothing had actually happened to him — but he remained insistent. He followed Regulus between classes and sat at their now—crowded lunch table. Emmeline and Gilderoy were even less friendly towards him than they were to each other, which made Regulus worry that he'd gained another unwelcome fan. Luckily, Regulus found escape sometimes to the library, where he did not need to be the centre of attention.

Regulus had the events replaying in his mind for a while. He felt things, emotions he couldn’t place, couldn’t understand. He knew that at first, he was stunned, the scared… but there was more that he wasn’t aware of.

However, what surprised Regulus was that no one seemed concerned about Potter, though he explained over and over that he was the hero — how he had pulled him out of the way and had nearly been crushed, too. Regulus tried to be convincing. Pandora, Marlene, Dorcas, and everyone else always commented that they hadn't even seen him there till the van was pulled away.

Regulus wondered to himself why no one else had seen him standing so far away, before he was suddenly, impossibly saving his life. With chagrin, Regulus quickly realised the probable cause — no one else was as aware of Potter as he always was. No one else watched him the way Regulus did.

How pitiful.

Potter was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his first-hand account.

People avoided him as usual. The Potters and Lupin, Evans and MacDonald sat at the same table as always, not eating, talking only among themselves. None of them, especially Potter, glanced his way any-more.

When he sat next to him in class, as far from Regulus as the table would allow, he seemed totally unaware of his presence. Only now and then, when his fists would suddenly ball up — skin stretched, getting somewhat paler over the bones — did Regulus wonder if he wasn't quite as oblivious as he appeared.

Potter wished he hadn't pulled him from the path of Peter’ van — there was no other conclusion he could come to.

Regulus wanted very much to talk to him, and the day after the accident he tried. The last time he'd seen him, outside the ER, they'd both been so furious. He still was angry that Potter wouldn't trust him with the truth, even though Regulus was keeping his part of the bargain flawlessly. But he had in fact saved his life, no matter how he'd done it. And, overnight, the heat of his anger faded into awed gratitude.

Potter was already seated when Regulus got to Biology, looking straight ahead. He sat down, expecting him to turn toward him. He showed no sign that he realized Regulus was there.

"Hello, Potter," he said pleasantly, to show him he was going to behave himself. At least for now, Regulus thought inwardly.

He turned his head a fraction toward him without meeting Regulus gaze, nodded once, and then looked the other way.

And that was the last contact he'd had with him, though he was there, a foot away from Regulus, every day. 

Regulus watched him sometimes, unable to stop himself— from a distance, though, in the cafeteria or parking lot. He watched as his golden eyes grew perceptibly darker day by day. But in class, Regulus gave no more notice that he existed than he showed towards him. He was miserable. And the dreams continued.

Despite his outright lies, the tenor of his e-mails alerted his mother to his slight depression, and she called a few times, worried. Regulus almost went nuts, as he tried to convince her it was just the weather that had him down.

Emmeline, at least, was pleased by the obvious coolness between him and his lab partner. Regulus could see she'd been worried that Potter’ stupid daring rescue might have impressed him, and she was relieved that it seemed to have the opposite effect. She grew more confident, sitting on the edge of his table to talk before Biology class started, ignoring Potter as completely as he ignored them.

~

The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. Emmeline was disappointed she'd never gotten to stage her snowball fight, but pleased that the beach trip would soon be possible. The rain continued heavily, though, and the weeks passed.

Pandora made him aware of another event looming on the horizon — she called the first Tuesday of March to ask his permission to invite Emmeline to the everyone’s choice spring dance in two weeks.

"Are you sure you don't mind… you weren't planning to ask her?" she persisted when Regulus told her he didn't mind in the least.

"No, Dora, I'm not going," he assured her. Dancing was glaringly outside his range of abilities.

"It will be really fun." her attempt to convince him was sincere but it wasn’t going to change his mind. He had a feeling that Pandora would enjoy her time with Emmeline much better than he could. Emmeline was a a great friend, but that was all Regulus wanted her to be to him. A friend.

"You have fun with Emmeline," he encouraged.

The next day, Regulus was surprised that Pandora wasn't her usual dreamy and serene self in Trig and Spanish. She was silent as she walked by his side between classes, and Regulus was unusually afraid to ask her why. If Emmeline had turned her down, he was the last person she would want to tell.

His fears were strengthened during lunch when Dora sat as far from Emmeline as possible, chatting animatedly with Frank and Alice. Emmeline was unusually quiet.

She was still quiet as she walked him to class, the uncomfortable look on her face a bad sign. But she didn't broach the subject until Regulus was in his seat and she was perched on his desk. As always, Regulus was electrically aware of Potter sitting close enough to touch, as distant as if he were merely an invention of his imagination.

"So," Emmeline said, looking at the floor, "Pandora asked me to the spring dance."

"That's great." Regulus made his voice bright and enthusiastic. "You'll have a lot of fun with Dora."

"Well…" she floundered as she examined his smile, clearly not happy with his response. "I told her I had to think about it."

"Why would you do that?" Regulus let disapproval colour his tone, though he was relieved she hadn't given her an absolute no.

Her face was bright red as she looked down again. Pity shook his resolve.

"I was wondering if… well, if you might be planning to ask me."

Regulus paused for a moment, hating the wave of guilt that swept through him. But he saw, from the corner of his eye, Potter’ head tilt reflexively in his direction.

"Emmeline, I think you should tell her yes," he said.

"Did you already ask someone?" Did Potter notice how her eyes flickered in his direction?

"No," Regulus assured him. "I'm not going to the dance at all."

"Why not?" Emmeline demanded.

He didn't want to get into the safety hazards that dancing presented, so he quickly made new plans.

"I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," he explained. Regulus needed to get out of town anyway — it was suddenly the perfect time to go.

"Can't you go some other weekend?"

"Sorry, no," he said. "So you shouldn't make Dora wait any longer. She’s a great friend and she doesn’t deserve to be left waiting. Plus, it's rude."

"Yeah, you're right," she mumbled, and turned, dejected, to walk back to her seat. Regulus closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to push the guilt and sympathy out of his head. Mr. Kettleburn began talking. Regulus sighed and opened his eyes.

And Potter was staring at him curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes.

Regulus stared back, surprised, expecting him to look quickly away. But instead he continued to gaze with probing intensity into his eyes. There was no question of him looking away. Regulus hands started to shake.

"Mr. Potter?" the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question that Regulus hadn't heard.

"The Krebs Cycle," Potter answered, seeming reluctant as he turned to look at Mr. Kettleburn. Regulus looked down at his book as soon as Potter’ eyes released him, trying to find his place. Cowardly for once, Regulus shifted his hair over the right frame of his face to hide himself. He couldn't believe the rush of emotion pulsing through him— just because Potter happened to look at him for the first time in a half-dozen weeks. Regulus couldn't allow him to have this level of influence over him. It was completely pathetic. Actually, it was more than pathetic, it was unhealthy.

Regulus tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour, and, since that was impossible, at least not to let Potter know that he was aware of him. When the bell rang at last, Regulus turned his back to him to gather his things, expecting him to leave immediately as usual.

"Reg?" his voice shouldn't have been so familiar to him, as if he'd known the sound of it all his life rather than for just a few short weeks.

Regulus turned slowly, unwillingly. He didn't want to feel what he knew he would feel when he looked at Potter’ too-perfect face. His expression was wary when he finally turned to him; Potter’ expression was unreadable.

“It’s Regulus to you,”

He didn't say anything for a while.

"What? Are you speaking to me again?" he finally asked, an unintentional note of petulance in his voice.

Potter lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted.

Regulus closed his eyes and inhaled slowly through his nose, aware that he was gritting his teeth. Potter waited.

"Then what do you want, Potter?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed; it was easier to talk to him coherently that way.

"I'm sorry." he sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really."

Regulus opened his eyes. Potter’ face was very serious.

"I don't know what you mean," he replied, his voice guarded.

"It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."

Regulus eyes narrowed. He'd heard that before.

"It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier," he hissed through his teeth. "You could have saved yourself all this regret."

"Regret?" the word, and his tone, obviously caught him off guard. "Regret for what?"

"For not just letting that stupid van squish me."

Potter was astonished. He stared at him in disbelief.

When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. "You think I regret saving your life?"

"I know you do," Regulus snapped.

"You don't know anything." he was definitely mad.

Regulus turned his head sharply away from him, clenching his jaw against all the wild accusations he wanted to hurl at him. Regulus gathered his books together, then stood and walked to the door. He meant to sweep dramatically out of the room, but of course he caught the toe of his boot on the door jamb and dropped his books. Regulus stood there for a moment, thinking about leaving them. Then he sighed and bent to pick them up. Potter was there; he'd already stacked them into a pile. He handed them to him, his face hard.

"Thank you," Regulus said icily.

His eyes narrowed.

"You're welcome," he retorted.

Regulus was absolutely not in the right frame of mind to deal with Potter’ mood swings, but as he was about to go, he said,

“How are you feeling, after the accident?”

Regulus wished that he didn’t ask him about it. Everyone around him always seemed to be asking him about it. What did they expect to hear? Regulus didn’t know how to answer them. He didn’t know how he felt and it was so frustrating. He found himself clenching his fist. It would have been simple; it was simple for other people to identify how they felt. They could express it so easily, that Regulus was envious of that.

His older brother fell into that category of people.

“I don’t know,” Regulus admitted under his breath. Somehow, Potter has still heard him.

“You don’t know?” he repeated.

Regulus huffed silently. Yes, he didn’t know. Regulus knew about everything except the interworking of himself. Ask him anything and he would likely tell you the answer, but when it came to knowing what he was feeling— he fraud. He wasn’t clever, not in the slightest… he was utterly clueless.

“Powerless,” Potter started. Regulus turned towards him. He was looking off to the side, so he could only see half of his captivating face. Potter couldn’t look older than seventeen or eighteen, and yet he had an air of ageless wisdom to him. “I take it you’re the type of person who always felt useful… but that moment, you became acutely aware of how powerless you truly were. It made you feel insignificant, Regulus.”

Regulus blinked and bit his inside cheek. Powerless, huh? Potter was right. For as long as he could remember, Regulus life had been something he had never had control over, so feeling powerless wasn’t necessary a new feeling to him. But that didn’t mean he didn’t like not being of use to the people around him. He was a useful tool to those around him— a golden goose to whichever school he attended (constantly advertised as a genius pupil), a perfect son to his mother (never getting into trouble, helping her understand government forms, or doing her taxes); Regulus was even of use to his peers. He began tutoring at the age of six and had helped many people (some way much older than him) achieve their academic goals.

So, Regulus had never been useless before… but when Peter’ van came barrelling towards him, there was absolutely nothing he could do. He was made aware of his mortality— no matter how many good grades he got, how smart he became, at the end of the day, he was like everyone else, he was an ordinary human. He could succumb to accidents that were no fault but his own, he could die at any second. He was nothing.

“Powerless… yeah,” Regulus nodded so deep in thoughts, that he hadn’t thought to question how Potter had known exactly what he was feeling when he himself did not.

~

Gym was brutal. They'd moved on to basketball. Regulus’ team never passed him the ball, so that was good, but he fell down a lot. Sometimes he took people with him. Today, Regulus was worse than usual because his head was sadly and annoyingly filled with Potter. He tried to concentrate on his feet, but he kept creeping back into his thoughts just when Regulus really needed his balance.

It was a relief, as always, to leave. Regulus almost ran to the truck; there were just so many people he wanted to avoid. The truck had suffered only minimal damage in the accident. He'd had to replace the tail-lights, and if he'd had a real paint job, Regulus would have touched that up. Peter’ parents had to sell their van for parts.

Regulus almost had a stroke when he rounded the corner and saw a tall, dark figure leaning against the side of his truck. Then he realised it was just Gilderoy. Regulus started walking again.

"Hey, Gilderoy," he called.

"Hi, Regulus."

"What's up?" Regulus said as he was unlocking the door. He wasn't paying attention to the uncomfortable edge in his voice, so his next words took him quite by surprise.

"Uh, I was just wondering… if you would go to the spring dance with me?" his voice broke on the last word.

"I thought it was a ‘everyone’s’ choice type of thing," Regulus said, too startled to be diplomatic.

"Well, yeah," he admitted, shamefaced.

Regulus recovered his composure and tried to make his appearance warm. "Thank you for asking me, but I'm going to be in Seattle that day."

"Oh," he said. "Well, maybe next time."

"Sure," he agreed, and then bit his lip. Regulus wouldn't want him to take that too literally.

He slouched off, back toward the school. Regulus heard a low chuckle.

Potter was walking past the front of his truck, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together. Regulus yanked the door open and jumped inside, slamming it loudly behind him. He revved the engine deafeningly and reversed out into the aisle. Potter was in his car already, two spaces down, sliding out smoothly in front of him, cutting him off. He stopped there — to wait for his family; Regulus could see the four of them walking this way, but still by the cafeteria. He considered taking out the rear of Potter’ shiny Volvo, but there were too many witnesses. Regulus looked in his rear-view mirror. A line was beginning to form.

Directly behind him, Peter Pettigrew was in his recently acquired used Sentra, waving. Regulus was too aggravated to acknowledge him.

While he was sitting there, looking everywhere but at the car in front of him, Regulus heard a knock on his passenger side window. He looked over; it was Peter. He glanced back in his rear-view mirror, confused. His car was still running, the door left open. Regulus leaned across the cab to crank the window down. It was stiff. He got it halfway down, then gave up.

"I'm sorry, Peter, I'm stuck behind Potter." he was absolutely annoyed — obviously the hold-up wasn't his fault.

"Oh, I know — I just wanted to ask you something while we're trapped here." he grinned.

This could not be happening.

"Will you ask me to the spring dance?" he continued.

"I'm not going to be in town, Peter." Regulus’ voice sounded a little sharp. He had to remember it wasn't his fault that Emmeline and Gilderoy had already used up his quota of patience for the day.

"Yeah, Emmeline said that," he admitted.

"Then why —"

He shrugged. "I was hoping you were just letting her down easy."

Okay, it was completely his fault.

"Sorry, Peter," he said, working to hide his massive irritation. "I really am going out of town."

"That's cool. We still have prom."

And before Regulus could respond, he was walking back to his car. He could feel the shock on his face. Regulus looked forward to see Evans, Lupin, MacDonald, and his deceased older brother lookalike all sliding into the Volvo. In his rear-view mirror, Potter’ eyes were on him. He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, as if he'd heard every word Peter had said. Regulus’ foot itched toward the gas pedal… one little bump wouldn't hurt any of them, just that glossy silver paint job. He revved the engine.

But they were all in, and Potter was speeding away. Regulus drove home slowly, carefully, muttering to himself the whole way.

When he got home, Regulus decided to make chicken enchiladas for dinner. It was a long process, and it would keep him busy. While he was simmering the onions and chillies, the phone rang. Regulus was almost afraid to answer it, but it might be Orion or his mother.

It was Pandora, and she was jubilant; Emmeline had caught her after school to accept her invitation. Regulus celebrated with her briefly while he stirred. She had to go, she wanted to call Marlene, Alice and Dorcas to tell them. He suggested— with casual innocence— that maybe Rita, the popular girl who had Biology with him, could ask Gilderoy. And Sybill, a standoffish girl who always seemed to be in her own world but was very kind from what Regulus could tell by the small chats they had at the lunch table, could ask Peter; he'd heard he was still available. Dora thought that was a great idea. Even though, she was now sure of Emmeline, she actually still told him genuinely, that she wished he would go to the dance. Regulus gave her his Seattle excuse.

After he hung up, Regulus tried to concentrate on dinner— dicing the chicken especially; he didn't want to take another trip to the emergency room. But his head was spinning, trying to analyse every word Potter had spoken today. What did he mean, it was better if they weren't friends?

His stomach twisted as Regulus realised what he must have meant. Potter must see how absorbed he was by him; he must not want to lead him on… so they couldn't even be friends… because he wasn't interested in him at all. Of course he wasn't interested in him, Regulus thought angrily, his eyes stinging — a delayed reaction to the onions. Regulus wasn't interesting. And Potter was. Interesting… and brilliant… and mysterious… and perfect…and beautiful… and possibly able to lift full-sized vans with one hand.

Regulus hated feeling emotions.

Well, that was fine. He could leave him alone. Regulus would leave him alone. He would get through his self-imposed sentence here in purgatory, and then hopefully some school in the South-west, or possibly Harvard, would offer him a scholarship. Regulus focused his thoughts on sunny beaches and palm trees as he finished the enchiladas and put them in the oven.

Orion seemed suspicious when he came home and smelled the green peppers. Regulus couldn't blame him— the closest edible Mexican food was probably in southern California. But he was a cop, even if just a small-town cop, so he was brave enough to take the first bite. He seemed to like it. It was fun to watch as he slowly began trusting him in the kitchen.

"Father?" he asked when he was almost done.

"Yeah, Reg?"

"Um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to Seattle for the day a week from Saturday… if that's okay?" he really didn't want to ask permission— it set a bad precedent— but Regulus felt rude, so he tacked it on at the end.

"Why?" his father sounded surprised, as if he were unable to imagine something that Forks couldn't offer.

"Well, I wanted to get few books— the library here is pretty limited— and maybe look at some clothes." he had more money than he was used to having, since, thanks to Orion, Regulus hadn't had to pay for a car. Not that the truck didn't cost him quite a bit in the gas department.

"That truck probably doesn't get very good gas mileage," he said, echoing his thoughts.

"I know, I'll stop in Montesano and Olympia — and Tacoma if I have to."

"Are you going all by yourself?" he asked, and Regulus couldn't tell if he was suspicious he had a secret boyfriend or just worried about car trouble.

"Yes."

"Seattle is a big city — you could get lost," he fretted.

"Father, Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle— and I can read a map, don't worry about it."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Regulus tried to be crafty as he hid his horror.

"That's all right, Father, I'll probably just be in dressing rooms all day— very boring."

"Oh, okay." the thought of sitting in clothing stores for any period of time immediately put him off.

"Thanks." Regulus smiled at him.

"Will you be back in time for the dance?"

Hell no. Only in a town this small would a father know when the high school dances were.

"No — I don't dance, Papa." his father, of all people, should understand that— he didn't get his balance problems from mother.

He did understand. "Oh, that's right," he realised.

~

The next morning, when Regulus pulled into the parking lot, he deliberately parked as far as possible from the silver Volvo. He didn't want to put himself in the path of too much temptation and end up owing him a new car. Getting out of the cab, Regulus fumbled with his key and it fell into a puddle at his feet. As Regulus bent to get it, a hand flashed out and grabbed it before he could. He jerked upright. James Potter was right next to him, leaning casually against his truck.

"How do you do that?" Regulus asked in amazed irritation.

"Do what?" Potter held his key out as he spoke. As Regulus reached for it, he dropped it into his palm.

"Appear out of thin air."

"Reggie, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant." his voice was quiet as usual— velvet, muted.

Regulus scowled at his perfect face. His eyes were light again today, a deep, golden honey colour. Then Regulus had to look down, to reassemble his now-tangled thoughts.

“It’s Regulus. I don’t make a habit of repeating myself,” he corrected Potter yet again instead of voicing his thoughts, but Potter was already brushing past him.

“Right,” Potter smirked over his shoulder at him, “Regulus.”

An exasperated huff escaped him as he tried walking away from Potter again, but his question held Regulus from doing so.

“What are you reading?” Potter prompted, a bit too smug for Regulus’ liking.

Regulus considered leaving him right there but he didn’t— better said, he felt as if he couldn’t. He sighed deeply. “The Song of Achilles.”

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

“I’ve read it a few times before,” Potter said, but Regulus was still stumped by the quote he said. But with Potter here, Regulus knew he wouldn't be able to read any longer. “Do you like it?”

Regulus flipped the book over, resting it against his arms as he looked right at Potter. For a moment in time, he sank in the warmth on his golden eyes. Only for a moment.

“Do you really care?” Regulus doubted, once that moment he had was in the past.

“Of course I do.” Regulus despised that Potter sincerely meant that.

“But is that why you came over here?”

Potter laughed, shaking his head. “Do you always ask many questions?”

“Only when I want answers.”

“I think you already know the answers to your own questions,” Potter theorised, and Regulus was slightly impressed by its validity. He was starting to feel that Potter could read him better than Regulus could read himself.

“I like to hear that I’m right,” he replied. Regulus tucked the bookmark between the pages and set the book aside.

“Wow, and I thought you were so humble.”

“Oh yeah? I’m sure you’re the most humble person in this planet, Potter.”

“Maybe I am humble, and you just haven’t seen it yet,” Potter challenged. He stood taller than Regulus by quite a few inches, just enough for Regulus to tilt his head up.

“If you are, then you must be hiding it pretty well,” Regulus retorted back. “But from personal experience with people, what you see is what you get.”

“Or what you hear, in your case,” Potter replied, and Regulus remained quiet— he couldn’t contradict what Potter had said. Potter took a small step forward. One more step, and Regulus was sure he’d be able to feel his body coldness. “Keep asking questions and you might get more than you see or hear, Regulus.”

Regulus wasn’t honestly sure if the interaction constituted as flirting, but it made his heart skip a beat nonetheless. It felt like a hole had formed in his chest, a hollowness that only had one way of being filled.

Regulus didn’t want to figure out how.

"Why the traffic jam last night?" he demanded, still looking away, fully aware that he was changing the conversation root. But if Potter had done it before, he could too. "I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist, not irritating me to death."

"That was for Peter's sake, not mine. I had to give him his chance." Potter snickered.

"You…" Regulus gasped. He couldn't think of a bad enough word. It felt like the heat of his anger should physically burn him, but Potter only seemed more amused.

"And I'm not pretending you don't exist," he continued.

"So you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Peter's van didn't do the job?"

Anger flashed in his tawny eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of humour gone.

"Regulus, you are utterly absurd," he said, his low voice cold.

His palms tingled— Regulus wanted so badly to hit something. He was surprised at himself. He was usually a non-violent person. Regulus turned his back and started to walk away, again.

"Wait," he called. Regulus kept walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. But Potter was next to him, easily keeping pace.

"I'm sorry, that was rude," he said as they walked. Regulus ignored him. "I'm not saying it isn't true," he continued, "But it was rude to say it, anyway."

"Why won't you leave me alone?" Regulus grumbled.

"I wanted to ask you something, but you side-tracked me," he chuckled. Potter seemed to have recovered his good humour.

"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?" Regulus couldn’t help asking severely.

"You're doing it again."

He sighed. "Fine then. What do you want to ask?"

"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday— you know, the day of the spring dance —"

"Are you trying to be funny?" Regulus interrupted him, wheeling toward him. His face got drenched as he looked up at Potter’ expression.

His eyes were wickedly amused. "Will you please allow me to finish?"

Regulus bit his lip and clasped his hands together, interlocking his fingers, so he couldn't do anything rash.

"I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride."

That was unexpected.

"What?" he wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"Do you want a ride to Seattle?"

"With who?" Regulus asked, mystified.

"Myself, obviously." Potter enunciated every syllable, as if he were talking to someone mentally handicapped. The audacity of this guy.

Regulus was still stunned. "Why?"

"Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to be honest, I'm not sure if your truck can make it."

"My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern." Regulus started to walk again, but he was way too surprised to maintain the same level of anger.

"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" he matched Regulus’ pace again.

"I don't see how that is any of your business." stupid, moron, shiny Volvo owner.

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."

"Honestly, James." Regulus felt a thrill go through him as he said his name, and he hated it. He could also see the brief surprise that passed through Potter’s face as he said his name. "I can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't want to be my friend."

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."

"Oh, thanks, now that's all cleared up." heavy sarcasm. Regulus realised he had stopped walking again. They were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof now, so he could more easily look at his face. Which certainly didn't help Regulus’ clarity of thought.

"It would be more… prudent for you not to be my friend," he explained. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Regulus."

His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, his voice smouldering. Regulus, for a moment, couldn't remember how to breathe.

"Will you go with me to Seattle?" he asked, still intense.

He couldn't speak yet, so Regulus just nodded.

Potter smiled briefly, and then his face became serious.

"You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you in class."

He turned abruptly and walked back the way they'd come.

“Merda.” Regulus quietly cursed, in his native language.

Regulus didn’t know what was Potter’ problem in general but he had a huge feeling that it had to with him.

And sometimes, you know how one feels suddenly doomed by fate.

Regulus already knew that his and Potter’ fate were destined for tragedy.

Chapter Text

Regulus made his way to English in a daze. He didn't even realise when he first walked in, that class had already started.

"Thank you for joining us, Mr. Black," Mr. Slughorn said in a disparaging tone. Regulus bit back a retort and ignored his flushed cheeks and hurried to his seat.

It wasn't till class ended that Regulus realised Emmeline wasn't sitting in her usual seat next to him. Regulus felt a twinge of guilt. But she and Gilderoy both met him at the door as usual, so Regulus figured he wasn't totally unforgiven. Emmeline seemed to become more herself as they walked, gaining enthusiasm as she talked about the weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, and so maybe her beach trip would be possible. Regulus, honestly, tried to sound eager, to make up for disappointing her yesterday. It was hard; rain or no rain, it would still only be in the high forties, if they were lucky.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was difficult to believe that he hadn't just imagined what Potter had said, and the way his eyes had looked. Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that he'd confused with reality. That seemed more probable than that Regulus really appealed to him on any level.

So, Regulus was impatient and frightened as Pandora and he entered the cafeteria. He wanted to see Potter’ face, to see if he'd gone back to the cold, indifferent person he'd known for the last several weeks. Or if, by some miracle, Regulus had really heard what he thought he'd heard this morning. Dora babbled on and on about her dance plans — Marlene and Dorcas had asked each other and they were going together, same with Frank and Alice. They were all going together— completely unaware of his inattention.

Disappointment flooded through Regulus as his eyes unerringly focused on the Potters table. The other four were there, but he was absent. Had he gone home? He followed Pandora through the line, crushed. He’d lost his appetite— Regulus bought nothing but a bottle of lemonade. He just wanted to go sit down and sulk.

"James Potter is staring at you again," Marlene said, finally breaking through his abstraction with his name. "I wonder why he's sitting alone today."

Regulus head snapped up. He followed her gaze to see Potter, smiling crookedly, staring at him from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he'd caught his eye, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger for him to join him. As Regulus stared in disbelief, he winked.

"Does he mean you?" Emmeline asked with insulting astonishment in her voice.

"Maybe he needs help with his Biology homework," Regulus muttered for her benefit. "Um, I'd better go see what he wants."

He could feel her staring after him as he walked away.

When Regulus reached his table, he stood behind the chair across from him, unsure.

"Why don't you sit with me today?" Potter asked, smiling.

Regulus sat down automatically, watching him with caution. Potter was still smiling. It was hard to believe that someone so beautiful could be real. Regulus was afraid that he might disappear in a sudden puff of smoke, and he would wake up.

He seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

"Don't worry— I don't understand any of it," he said wryly.

"I'm counting on that."

"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"

"Friends…" Potter mused, dubious.

"Or not," Regulus muttered.

He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you."

Behind his smile, the warning was real. Regulus could sense it, instinctively.

"You say that a lot," Regulus noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in his stomach and keep his voice even.

"Yes, because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."

"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too." his eyes narrowed.

He smiled apologetically.

"So, as long as I'm being… not smart, we'll try to be friends?" Regulus struggled to sum up the confusing exchange.

"That sounds about right."

He looked down at his hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do now.

"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.

Regulus looked up into his deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted out the truth.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are."

Potter’ jaw tightened, but he kept his smile in place with some effort.

"Are you having any luck with that?" he asked in an offhand tone.

"Not too much," Regulus admitted. He had various theories and he was sure he knew the correct one but for now, he wasn’t going to say anything.

He chuckled. "What are your theories?"

Regulus blushed a bit. He had been vacillating during the last month between Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker at first. There was no way he was going to own up to that.

"Won't you tell me?" Potter asked, tilting his head to one side with a shockingly tempting smile.

Regulus shook his head. "Too embarrassing."

"That's really frustrating, you know," he complained.

"No," Regulus disagreed quickly, his eyes narrowing, "I can't imagine why that would be frustrating at all— just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night wondering what they could possibly mean… now, why would that be frustrating?"

Potter grimaced.

"Or better," Regulus continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now, "Say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things— from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a pariah the next, and he never explained any of that, either, even after he promised. That, also, would be very non-frustrating."

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"

You have no idea, Regulus wanted to say but kept it in.

"I don't like double standards."

They stared at each other, unsmiling.

Regulus hardly knew anything about James Potter at all, yet James Potter was everything. Everything and nothing.

He had a feeling the he had not been the only soul to fall hard and fast for James Potter. Regulus couldn’t comprehend there not being a longer line of contenders for the older boy. A very, very, very long line that unfortunately had Regulus waiting at the end. Regulus also had a feeling that Emmeline— maybe not too long ago— had taken a liking to Potter as well, so she may be at the end of the line instead. It saved some of Regulus’ pride, knowing that he was not alone in waiting his turn.

Continuing staring at Potter, only did so much to desensitize Regulus from his emotions. The taxing battle was as taxing as ever.

Potter glanced over his shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, he snickered.

"What?"

"Your girlfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you— she's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." he snickered again.

"I don't know who you're talking about," Regulus said frostily. "But I'm sure you're wrong, anyway."

"I'm not. I told you, most people are easy to read."

"Except me, of course."

"Yes. Except for you." his mood shifted suddenly; his eyes turned brooding. "I wonder why that is."

Regulus had to look away from the intensity of his stare. He concentrated on unscrewing the lid of his lemonade. He took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted.

"No." Regulus didn't feel like mentioning that his stomach was already full— of butterflies. "You?" Potter looked at the empty table in front of him.

"No, I'm not hungry." Regulus didn't understand his expression— it looked like he was enjoying some private joke.

Could it actually be that the answer?

"Can you do me a favour?" Regulus asked after a second of hesitation.

He was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want."

"It's not much," he assured him.

He waited, guarded but curious.

"I just wondered… if you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I'm prepared." Regulus looked at the lemonade bottle as he spoke, tracing the circle of the opening with his pinkie finger.

"That sounds fair." Potter was pressing his lips together to keep from laughing when he looked up.

"Thanks."

"Then can I have one answer in return?" he demanded.

"One."

"Tell me one theory."

Whoops. "Not that one."

"You didn't qualify, you just promised one answer," he reminded him.

"And you've broken promises yourself," Regulus reminded him back.

"Just one theory— I won't laugh."

"Yes, you will." he was positive about that.

Potter looked down, and then glanced up at him through his long black lashes, his ochre eyes scorching.

"Please?" he breathed, leaning toward him.

Regulus blinked, his mind going blank. Merlin, how did he do that?

"Er, what?" he asked, dazed.

"Please tell me just one little theory." his eyes still smouldered at him.

"Um, well, bitten by a radioactive spider?" was Potter a hypnotist, too? Or was he just a hopeless pushover when it came too him?

"That's not very creative," he scoffed.

"I'm sorry, that's all I've got," Regulus said, miffed.

"You're not even close," he teased.

"No spiders?"

"Nope."

"And no radioactivity?"

"None."

"Okay," Regulus sighed.

"Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either," Potter chuckled.

"You're not supposed to laugh, remember?"

He struggled to compose his face.

"I'll figure it out eventually," Regulus warned him.

"I wish you wouldn't try." Potter was serious again.

"Because… ?"

"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" he smiled playfully, but his eyes were impenetrable.

"Oh," he said, as several things Potter had hinted fell suddenly into place. "I see."

"Do you?" his face was abruptly severe, as if he were afraid that he'd accidentally said too much. Regulus felt hesitant to say anything.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Potter told him, coolly leaning against the table.

“No, I think I will stop on your account,” Regulus retorted, letting his hands fall on his lap. He looked away from Potter and into his hands again.

“Why?” he questioned.

“Because my account doesn’t include you.” Potter nodded, accepting the quip for what it was.

A short silence followed, one that Regulus wasn’t sure of the meaning behind. It had not been comfortable, but that didn’t make it uncomfortable either. It was somehow between the two opposite.

“It’s not because you’re shy, is it?” Potter observed, ending the confusing silence. Regulus could hear him leaning closer. “You’re a quiet one, but not shy. Never shy.”

Regulus hummed a laugh. “And you’re neither quiet nor shy. Are we going to keep pointing out aspects of each other's character all day? I have less pleasant things to say, if we’re to continue.”

“I’ve heard people say that you’re quite straightforward and don’t take anyone's shit. Does that include me too or do you just act differently around me?” Potter queried, a tone underlying his voice that Regulus couldn’t decipher.

“Don’t think for a moment, that you mean anything to me, Potter. I kind of hate you.” the biggest lie Regulus had ever said.

“Ah,” Potter said as if he understood. “So they way you behave around me then, its because you hugely detest me, but around others is because you like them?” Regulus thought that the word ‘like’ was a big one, but he was not going to deny anything.

“I’d phrase it differently, but yes. That’s right enough, I guess.”

“Well… okay,” Potter said, his gaze directly on Regulus, as he made it a point to not to look at him.

“I didn't take you as the type to settle.” Regulus waited to see if he had hit a nerve, but Potter only laughed. It was a small laugh, but nonetheless genuine. Somehow, he genuinely found Regulus funny.

“I didn’t take you as a liar.” and Potter said that he couldn’t read him well, Regulus thought inwardly.

“Then you don’t know me as well as you think you do, or at all. The moment a child with the last name ‘Black’ can speak, they can surely lie.” a faint smile found its way onto his lips.

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“Then without lies this time, Regulus. If I’m really not something you thought I was, then what would you think it’ll be?”

“That you’re dangerous?” Regulus guessed, his pulse quickening as he intuitively realised the truth of his own words.

Potter was dangerous. He’d been trying to tell him that all along.

He just looked at him, eyes full of some emotion Regulus couldn't comprehend.

"But not bad," Regulus whispered, shaking his head. "No, I don't believe that you're bad."

"You're wrong." his voice was almost inaudible. He looked down, stealing his bottle lid and then spinning it on its side between his fingers. Regulus stared at him, wondering why he didn't feel afraid. Potter meant what he was saying— that was obvious. But Regulus just felt anxious, on edge… and, more than anything else, fascinated. The same way he always felt when he was near him.

The silence lasted until Regulus noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty.

He jumped to his feet. "We're going to be late."

"I'm not going to class today," he said, twirling the lid so fast it was just a blur.

"Why not?"

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." Potter smiled up at him, but his eyes were still troubled.

"Well, I'm going," Regulus told him. He was too careful about his grades to risk getting caught.

He turned his attention back to his makeshift top. "I'll see you later, then."

Regulus hesitated, torn, but then the first bell sent him hurrying out the door— with a last glance confirming that Potter hadn't moved a centimetre.

~

As Regulus half-ran to class, his head was spinning faster than the bottle cap. So few questions had been answered in comparison to how many new questions had been raised. At least the rain had stopped.

He was lucky; Mr. Kettleburn wasn't in the room yet when he arrived. Regulus settled quickly into his seat, aware that both Emmeline and Dorcas were staring at him. Emmeline looked resentful; Dorcas looked surprised, and slightly awed.

Mr. Kettleburn came in the room then, calling the class to order. He was juggling a few small cardboard boxes in his arms. He put them down on Emmeline table, telling her to start passing them around the class.

"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," he said as he produced a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his lab jacket and pulled them on. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against his wrists seemed ominous to Regulus. "The first should be an indicator card," he went on, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator—" he held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick "—and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." he held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from this distance, but his stomach flipped.

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you." he began at Emmeline’ table again, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares.

"Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet…" he grabbed Emmeline’ hand and jabbed the spike into the tip of her middle finger. Good grief. Clammy moisture broke out across his forehead.

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." he demonstrated, squeezing Emmeline’ finger till the blood flowed. Regulus swallowed convulsively, his stomach heaving.

"And then apply it to the card," he finished, holding up the dripping red card for them to see. He closed his eyes, trying to hear through the ringing in his ears.

"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type." Mr. Kettleburn sounded proud of himself. "Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission— I have slips at my desk."

He continued through the room with his water drops. Regulus put his cheek against the cool black table top and tried to hold on to his consciousness. All around him, he could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles as his classmates skewered their fingers. He breathed slowly in and out through his mouth.

"Regulus, are you all right?" Mr. Kettleburn asked. His voice was close to his head, and it sounded alarmed.

"I already know my blood type, Mr. Kettleburn," he said in a weak voice. Regulus was afraid to raise his head.

"Are you feeling faint?"

"Yes, sir," Regulus muttered, internally kicking himself for not ditching when he had the chance.

"Can someone take Regulus to the nurse, please?" he called.

Regulus didn't have to look up to know that it would be Emmeline who volunteered.

"Can you walk?" Mr. Kettleburn asked.

"Yes," he whispered. Just let him get out of here, Regulus thought. He'll even crawl.

Emmeline seemed eager as she put her arm around his waist and pulled his arm over her shoulder. Regulus leaned against her heavily on the way out of the classroom.

Emmeline towed him slowly across campus. When they were around the edge of the cafeteria, out of sight of building four in case Mr. Kettleburn was watching, he stopped.

"Just let me sit for a minute, please?" Regulus begged.

She helped him sit on the edge of the walk.

"And whatever you do, make sure I don’t vomit on you or anyone for that matter," Regulus warned. He was still so dizzy. He slumped over on his side, putting his cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the side-walk, closing his eyes.

That seemed to help a little.

"Wow, you're green, Regulus," Emmeline said nervously.

"Reg?" a different voice called from the distance.

No! Please let him be imagining that horribly familiar voice.

"What's wrong— is he hurt?" Potter voice was closer now, and he sounded upset. Regulus wasn't imagining it. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not to throw up.

Emmeline seemed stressed, she was such a nice friend. "I think he's fainted. I don't know what happened, he didn't even stick his finger."

"Reg." Jam— Potter’ voice was right beside him, relieved now. "Can you hear me?"

"No," Regulus groaned. "Go away."

He chuckled.

"I was taking him to the nurse," she explained in a defensive tone, "But he wouldn't go any farther."

"I'll take him," Potter said. Regulus could hear the smile still in his voice. "You can go back to class."

"No," Emmeline protested. "I'm supposed to do it."

Suddenly the side-walk disappeared from beneath him. Regulus eyes flew open in shock. Potter had scooped him up in his arms, as easily as if he weighed ten pounds instead of a hundred and ten.

"Put me down!" please, please let him not vomit on him. Potter was walking before Regulus was finished talking.

"Hey!" Emmeline called, already ten paces behind them.

Potter ignored him, Regulus couldn’t help nudging him for that. "You look awful," he told Regulus, grinning.

"Put me back on the side walk," Regulus moaned. The rocking movement of his walk was not helping. Potter held him away from his body, gingerly, supporting all his weight with just his arms— it didn't seem to bother him.

"So you faint at the sight of blood?" he asked. This seemed to entertain him.

Regulus didn't answer. He closed his eyes again and fought the nausea with all his strength, clamping his lips together.

"And not even your own blood," Potter continued, enjoying himself.

Regulus didn't know how Potter opened the door while carrying him, but it was suddenly warm, so he knew they were inside.

"Oh my," he heard a female voice gasp.

"He fainted in Biology," James explained.

Regulus opened his eyes. He was in the office, and Potter was striding past the front counter toward the nurse's door. Ms. Cope, the red-headed front office receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open. The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a novel, astonished, as Potter swung him into the room and placed him, gently on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress on the one cot. Then he moved to stand against the wall as far across the narrow room as possible. His eyes were bright, excited.

"He's just a little faint," he reassured the startled nurse. "They're blood typing in Biology."

The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one."

He muffled a snicker.

"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."

"I know," Regulus sighed. The nausea was already fading.

"Does this happen a lot?" she asked.

"Sometimes," he admitted. Potter coughed to hide another laugh.

Regulus was going to find a way to kill him.

"You can go back to class now," she told Potter.

"I'm supposed to stay with him." he said this with such assured authority that— even though Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips— she didn't argue it further.

"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to him, and then bustled out of the room.

"You were right," Regulus whined, letting his eyes close.

"I usually am— but about what in particular this time?"

"Ditching is healthy." Regulus practised breathing evenly.

"You scared me for a minute there," he admitted after a pause. His tone made it sound like he was confessing a humiliating weakness. "I thought Vance was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."

"Ha ha." Regulus still had his eyes closed, but he was feeling more normal every minute.

"Honestly— I've seen corpses with better colour. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your murder."

"Poor Emmeline. I'll bet she's mad."

"She absolutely loathes me," Potter said cheerfully.

"You can't know that," he argued, but then Regulus wondered suddenly if she could.

"I saw her face— I could tell."

"How did you see me? I thought you were ditching." Regulus was almost fine now, though the queasiness would probably pass faster if he'd eaten something for lunch. On the other hand, maybe it was lucky his stomach was empty.

"I was in my car, listening to a CD." such a normal response— it surprised him.

Regulus heard the door and opened his eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in her hand.

"Here you go, dear." she laid it across his forehead. "You're looking better," she added.

"I think I'm fine," he said, sitting up. Just a little ringing in his ears, no spinning. The mint green walls stayed where they should.

Regulus could see she was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just then, and Ms. Cope stuck her head in.

"We've got another one," she warned.

Regulus hopped down to free up the cot for the next invalid.

He handed the compress back to the nurse. "Here, I don't need this."

And then Emmeline staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow-looking Lee Stephens, another boy in their Biology class. Potter and he drew back against the wall to give them room.

"Oh no," Potter muttered. "Go out to the office, Regulus."

He looked up at him, bewildered.

"Trust me— go."

He spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. Regulus could feel Potter right behind him.

"You actually listened to me." he was stunned.

"I smelled the blood," Regulus said, wrinkling his nose. Lee wasn't sick from watching other people, like him.

"People can't smell blood," he contradicted.

"Well, I can— that's what makes me sick. It smells like rust… and salt."

He was staring at him with an unfathomable expression.

"What?" Regulus asked.

"It's nothing."

Emmeline came through the door then, glancing from him to Potter. The look she gave him confirmed what Potter had said about loathing. She looked back at him, her eyes glum.

"You look better," she accused.

"Just don’t let me vomit on you," he warned her again.

"It's not bleeding any more," she muttered. "Are you going back to class?"

"Are you kidding? I'd just have to turn around and come back."

"Yeah, I guess… So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" While she spoke, she flashed another glare towards Potter, who was standing against the cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.

Regulus tried to sound as sincere as possible. "Sure, I said I was in."

"We're meeting at my mum's store, at ten." her eyes flickered to Potter again, wondering if she was giving out too much information. Her body language made it clear that it wasn't an open invitation.

"I'll be there," Regulus promised.

"I'll see you in Gym, then," she said, moving uncertainly toward the door.

"See you," he replied. She looked at him once more, her thin round face slightly pouting, and then as she walked slowly through the door, her shoulders slumped. A swell of sympathy washed over him. Regulus pondered seeing her disappointed face again… in Gym.

"Gym," he groaned.

"I can take care of that." Regulus hadn't noticed Potter moving to his side, but he spoke now in his ear. "Go sit down and look pale," he muttered.

That wasn't a challenge; Regulus was always pale, and his recent swoon had left a light sheen of sweat on his face. He sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested his head against the wall with his eyes closed.

Fainting spells always exhausted him.

Regulus heard Potter speaking softly at the counter.

"Ms. Cope?"

"Yes?" he hadn't heard her return to her desk.

"Regulus has Gym next hour, and I don't think he feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take him home now. Do you think you could excuse him from class?" his voice was like melting honey. Regulus could imagine how much more overwhelming his eyes would be.

"Do you need to be excused, too, James?" Ms. Cope fluttered. Why couldn't he do that?

"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind."

"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Regulus," she called to him. He nodded weakly, hamming it up just a bit.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" with his back to the receptionist, his expression became sarcastic.

"I'll walk."

Regulus stood carefully, and he was still fine. Potter held the door for him, his smile polite but his eyes mocking. He walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice— the first time he'd enjoyed the constant moisture falling out of the sky— as it washed his face clean of the sticky perspiration.

"Thanks," Regulus said as he followed him out. "It's almost worth getting sick to miss Gym."

"Any time." he was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

"So, are you going? This Saturday, I mean?" Regulus was hoping he would, though it seemed unlikely. He couldn't picture him loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; he didn't belong in the same world. But just hoping that he might gave him the first twinge of enthusiasm he'd felt for the outing.

"Where are you all going, exactly?" he was still looking ahead, expressionless.

"Down to La Push, to First Beach." Regulus studied his face, trying to read it. His eyes seemed to narrow infinitesimally.

He glanced down at him from the corner of his eye, smiling wryly. "I really don't think I was invited."

He sighed. "I just invited you."

"Let's you and I not push poor Emmeline any further this week. We don't want her to snap." his eyes danced; he was enjoying the idea more than he should.

"Mischief-makers." Regulus muttered, preoccupied by the way Potter had said ‘you and I’. He liked it more than he should.

They were near the parking lot now. Regulus veered left, toward his truck. Something caught his jacket, yanking him back.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, outraged. He was gripping a fistful of his jacket in one hand. Regulus was confused. "I'm going home."

"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?" Potter’ voice was still indignant.

"What condition? And what about my truck?" he complained.

"I'll have Sirius drop it off after school." Potter was towing him towards his car now,— Regulus couldn’t help but feel something inside of him at the name of his deceased older brother falling of Potter’ lips— pulling him by his jacket. It was all Regulus could do to keep from falling backward. He'd probably just drag him along anyway if he did.

"Let go!" Regulus insisted. Potter had the audacity of ignoring him. He staggered along sideways across the wet side-walk until they reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed Regulus— he stumbled against the passenger door.

"You are so pushy!" he grumbled.

"It's open," was all Potter responded. He got in the driver's side.

"I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!" Regulus stood by the car, fuming. It was raining harder now, and he'd never put his hood up, so his curly hair was dripping down his face.

Potter lowered the automatic window and leaned toward him across the seat. "Get in, Reg."

He didn't answer— ignoring the fact that Potter hadn’t called him Regulus. He was mentally calculating his chances of reaching the truck before he could catch him. Regulus had to admit, they weren't good.

"I'll just drag you back," Potter threatened, guessing his plan.

Regulus tried to maintain what dignity he could as he got into his car. He wasn't very successful— Regulus looked like a half-drowned cat and his boots squeaked.

"This is completely unnecessary," Regulus argued stiffly.

He didn't answer. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As Potter pulled out of the parking lot, Regulus was preparing to give him the silent treatment— his face in full pout mode— but then he recognized the music playing, and his curiosity got the better of his intentions.

"Clair de Lune?" Regulus inquired, somewhat surprised.

"You know Debussy?" Potter sounded surprised, too.

"Not well," he admitted. "My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house— I only know my favourites."

"It's one of my favourites, too." he stared out through the rain, lost in thought.

Regulus listened to the music, relaxing against the light grey leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into grey and green smudges. He began to realise they were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, Regulus didn't feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.

"What is your mother like?" Potter asked him suddenly.

Regulus glanced over to see him studying him with curious eyes.

"She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier," he said. Potter raised his eyebrows. "I have too much Orion in me, I guess. She's introverted like I am, and strict. She's very responsible but can quickly forget minor things, and she's a very unpredictable cook. She's my best friend, despite her flaws. My only close friend." Regulus stopped. Talking about her was making him slightly depressed.

"How old are you, Regulus?" his voice sounded frustrated for some reason he couldn't imagine. He'd stopped the car, and Regulus realised they were at Orion’s house already. The rain was so heavy that he could barely see the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river.

"I'm seventeen," he responded, a little confused.

"You don't seem seventeen."

His tone was reproachful; it made Regulus laugh.

"What?" he asked, curious again.

"My mother always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." he couldn’t stop laughing, and then sighed. "Well, someone has to be the adult." Regulus paused for a second. "You don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself," he noted.

He made a face and changed the subject.

"So why did your mother marry Phil?"

Regulus was surprised he would remember the name; he'd mentioned it just once, almost two months ago. It took him a moment to answer.

"My mother… she's very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. At any rate, she's crazy about him." Regulus shook his head. The attraction was a mystery to him.

"Do you approve?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" he countered. "I want her to be happy… and he is who she wants."

"That's very generous… I wonder," he mused.

"What?"

"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?" Potter was suddenly intent, his eyes searching his.

"I-I think so," Regulus stuttered. "But she's the parent, after all. It's a little bit different."

"No one too scary then," he teased.

He grinned in response. "What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings and extensive tattoos?"

"That's one definition, I suppose."

"What's your definition?"

But he ignored his question and asked Regulus another. "Do you think that I could be scary?" he raised one eyebrow, and the faint trace of a smile lightened his face.

“What do you mean?”

“Do I really have to say?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Sometimes I wish you’d say things differently,” James told him so forwardly, so bluntly, that Regulus practically felt the words hit him.

After the initial shock wore off, he realised that it was not shocking at all. It was actually quite reasonable. This had not been the first time Regulus had been told he didn’t socialise in the correct way, and this certainly wasn’t the first time Regulus wondered what it meant to socialise correctly either.

“I’m saying things the only way I know how,” he told James, and it had been so terribly honest that it managed to hurt the both of them. He could see the woe dropping James’ features, and Regulus could feel it tearing into his chest.

Silence came creeping back in, like clouds drifting over the sun, casting the world under cold shadows.

That’s why Regulus didn’t like to speak, that was why he was always quiet. He could never find the right words to say or the appropriate tone in which to say them.

“Do you see me being in any form of way, dangerous?” James asked, piercing the quietness.

“What?” Regulus looked over at James again, seeing that he had regained his composure. Regulus attempted to do the same.

Regulus thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a lie would go over better. He decided to go with the truth. "Hmm… I think you could be, if you wanted to."

"Are you frightened of me now?" the smile vanished, and his heavenly face was suddenly serious.

"No." But he answered too quickly. The smile returned.

"So, now are you going to tell me about your family?" Regulus asked to distract him. "It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."

He was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"

"You’re the only son of your parents, whilst the others are all adopted, yes?” he verified.

"Yes."

Regulus hesitated for a moment. "How did that happen?"

"My siblings parents died many years ago." his tone was matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"It’s not me you should be saying those things too, but it doesn’t really matter now. My parents— Monty and Effie—  have been their parents for a long time now."

"And you all love them." it wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way he spoke for him and his siblings of them.

"Yes." he smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people."

"You're very lucky."

"I know I am."

"And your brother?"

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

"My brother, and Remus, Lily and Mary for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."

"Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go." Regulus didn't want to get out of the car.

"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Black gets home, so you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." James grinned at him.

"I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Forks." he sighed.

James laughed, and there was an edge to his laughter.

"Have fun at the beach… good weather for sunbathing." he glanced out at the sheeting rain.

"Won't I see you tomorrow?"

"No. Remus and I are starting the weekend early."

"What are you going to do?" a friend could ask that, right? Regulus hoped the disappointment wasn't too apparent in his voice.

"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."

He remembered Orion had said the Potters went camping frequently.

"Oh, well, have fun." Regulus tried to sound enthusiastic. He didn't think he fooled him, though. A smile was playing around the edges of his lips.

"Will you do something for me this weekend?" James turned to look him straight in the face, utilizing the full power of his burning gold eyes.

Regulus nodded helplessly.

"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So… try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?" he smiled crookedly.

The helplessness had faded as he spoke. Regulus glared at him.

"I'll see what I can do," he snapped as he jumped out into the rain. Regulus slammed the door behind me with excessive force.

James was still smiling as he drove away.

Regulus was a bit scared of how much he had come to care for James in a short time.

He was afraid to care too much, for the fear that James would happen to not care about him at all.

Regulus was not cynical or bitter in any way. Life's too short; people got ripped off, but if they held a grudge, it was going to affect them. People took it on the chin, they learnt, they tried not to make the same mistakes.

Regulus was not going to repeat the same mistakes.

Chapter Text

As Regulus sat in his room, trying to concentrate on the third act of Macbeth, he was really listening for his truck. He would have thought, even over the pounding rain, he could have heard the engine's roar. But when Regulus went to peek out the curtain— again— it was suddenly there.

He wasn't looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to his non-expectations. Of course, there were the fainting comments. Rita especially seemed to get a kick out of that story. Luckily, Emmeline had kept her mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Potter’ involvement. She did have a lot of questions about lunch, though.

"So what did James Potter want yesterday?" Emmeline asked in Trig.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "He never really got to the point."

"You looked kind of mad," she fished.

"Did I?" Regulus kept his expression blank.

"You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before. That was weird."

"Weird," he agreed. She seemed annoyed; she flipped her dark curls impatiently— Regulus guessed she'd been hoping to hear something that would make a good story for her to pass on.

The worst part about Friday was that, even though Regulus knew Potter wasn't going to be there, he still hoped. When he walked into the cafeteria with Pandora and Emmeline, Regulus couldn't keep from looking at his table, where MacDonald, Evans, Lupin and his brother lookalike sat talking, heads close together. And Regulus couldn't stop the gloom that engulfed him as he realised he didn't know how long he would have to wait before he saw Potter again.

At his usual table, everyone was full of their plans for the next day. Emmeline was animated again, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman who promised sun tomorrow. Regulus would have to see that before he believed it. But it was warmer today— almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn't be completely miserable.

Regulus intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Rita during lunch, which he didn't understand until they were all walking out of the room together. Regulus was right behind her, just a foot from her slick, silver blonde hair, and she was evidently unaware of that. "…don't know why Regulus," — she sneered his name — "doesn't just sit with the Potters from now on."

He heard her muttering to Emmeline. He'd never noticed what an unpleasant, nasal voice she had, and Regulus was surprised by the malice in it. He really didn't know her well at all, certainly not well enough for her to dislike him— or so he'd thought. "He's my friend; he sits with us," Emmeline whispered back loyally, but also a bit territorially. Regulus paused to let Dora and Alice pass him. He didn't want to hear any more.

That night at dinner, Orion seemed enthusiastic about his trip to La Push in the morning. Regulus thought he felt guilty for leaving him home alone on the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits to break them now. Of course he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably. His father seemed to approve. Regulus wondered if he would approve of his plan to ride to Seattle with James Potter. Not that Regulus was going to tell him.

"Father, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I think it's south of Mount Rainier," he asked casually.

"Yeah — why?"

Regulus shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."

"It's not a very good place for camping." Orion sounded surprised. "Too many bears. Most people go there during the hunting season."

"Oh," he murmured. "Maybe I got the name wrong."

Regulus meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke him. He opened his eyes to see a clear yellow light streaming through his window. He couldn't believe it. Regulus hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn't seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun. Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the middle. Regulus lingered by the window as long as he could, afraid that if he left, the blue would disappear again.

The Vance's Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. He'd seen the store, but Regulus had never stopped there— not having much need for any supplies required for being outdoors over an extended period of time. In the parking lot he recognized Emmeline’ Suburban and Peter' Sentra. As Regulus pulled up next to their vehicles, he could see the group standing around in front of the Suburban. Gilderoy was there, along with two other boys he had class with; Regulus was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner. Dora was there, flanked by Dorcas, Marlene and Rita. Three other girls stood with them, including one Regulus remembered falling over in Gym on Friday. That one gave him a dirty look as he got out of the truck, and whispered something to Rita.

Rita shook out her corn-silk hair and eyed him scornfully.

So it was going to be one of those days, great.

At least Emmeline was happy to see him.

"You came!" she called, delighted. "And I said it would be sunny today, didn't I?"

"I told you I was coming," Regulus reminded her.

"We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha… unless you invited someone," Emmeline added.

"Nope," he lied lightly, hoping he wouldn't get caught in the lie. But also wishing that a miracle would occur, and Potter would appear.

Emmeline looked satisfied.

"Will you ride in my car? It's that or Lee's mom's minivan."

"Sure."

She smiled blissfully. It was so easy to make her happy.

"You can have shotgun," she promised. Regulus hid his chagrin. It wasn't as simple to make Emmeline and Pandora happy at the same time. Regulus could see Dora’ face getting sadder, looking at them now.

The numbers worked out in his favour, though. Lee brought two extra people, and suddenly every seat was necessary. Regulus managed to wedge Dora in between Emmeline and him in the front seat of the Suburban.

Emmeline could have been more graceful about it, but at least Pandora seemed appeased. That was all he cared about.

It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Walkers River snaking beneath it twice. Regulus was glad he had the window seat.

They'd rolled the windows down— the Suburban was a bit claustrophobic with nine people in it— and Regulus tried to absorb as much sunlight as possible.

He'd been to the beaches around La Push many times during his Forks summers with Orion, (and his brother before he passed away) so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to him. It was still breathtaking. The water was dark grey, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the grey, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steel harbour waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs.

The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water's edge, after which it grew into millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly grey from a distance, but close up were every shade a stone could be: terracotta, sea green, lavender, blue grey, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with huge driftwood trees, bleached bone white in the salt waves, some piled together against the edge of the forest fringe, some lying solitary, just out of reach of the waves.

There was a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny. Pelicans floated on the swells while seagulls and a lone eagle wheeled above them. The clouds still circled the sky, threatening to invade at any moment, but for now the sun shone bravely in its halo of blue sky.

They picked their way down to the beach, Emmeline leading the way to a ring of driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like theirs before. There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Gilderoy and the boy Regulus thought was named Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood from the drier piles against the forest edge, and soon had a teepee-shaped construction built atop the old cinders.

"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Emmeline asked him. Regulus was sitting on one of the bone-colored benches; the other girls and his friends clustered, gossiping excitedly, on either side of him. Emmeline knelt by the fire, lighting one of the smaller sticks with a cigarette lighter.

"No," Regulus said as she placed the blazing twig carefully against the teepee.

"You'll like this then — watch the colours." she lit another small branch and laid it alongside the first.

The flames started to lick quickly up the dry wood.

"It's green," he said in surprise.

"The salt does it. Pretty, isn't it?" she lit one more piece, placed it where the fire hadn't yet caught, and then came to sit by him. Thankfully, Pandora was on her other side. She turned to her and claimed Emmeline’ attention. Regulus watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky.

After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma.

On the one hand, Regulus loved the tide pools. They had fascinated him since he was a child; they were one of the only things he ever looked forward to when Regulus had to come to Forks. On the other hand, he'd also fallen into them a lot. Not a big deal when you're seven and with your father. It reminded him of  Potter’ request— that he should not fall into the ocean.

Rita was the one who made Regulus decision for him. She didn't want to hike, and she was definitely wearing the wrong shoes for it. Most of the other girls, besides Dorcas and Marlene decided to stay on the beach as well. Regulus waited until Peter and Gilderoy had committed to remaining with them before he got up quietly to join the pro-hiking group. Emmeline gave him a huge smile when she saw that he was coming.

The hike wasn't too long, though Regulus hated to lose the sky in the woods. The green light of the forest was strangely at odds with the adolescent laughter, too murky and ominous to be in harmony with the light banter around him. He had to watch each step he took very carefully, avoiding roots below and branches above, and Regulus soon fell behind. Eventually, he broke through the emerald confines of the forest and found the rocky shore again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past them on its way to the sea.

Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely drained were teeming with life.

Regulus was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds. The others were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on the edges. He found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools and sat there cautiously, spellbound by the natural aquarium below him. The bouquets of brilliant anemones undulated ceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuck motionless to the rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white racing stripes wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return.

Regulus was completely absorbed, except for one small part of his mind that wondered what Potter was doing now, and trying to imagine what he would be saying if he were here with him.

Finally the others were hungry, and Regulus got up stiffly to follow them back. He tried to keep up better this time through the woods, so naturally he fell a few times. Regulus got some shallow scrapes on his palms, and the knees of his jeans were stained green, but it could have been worse. When they got back to First Beach, the group they'd left behind had multiplied. As they got closer, they could see the shining, straight, curly, and different tones of hair of the newcomers, teenagers from the reservation come to socialize.

The food was already being passed around, and some hurried to claim a share while Gilderoy introduced them as they entered the driftwood circle. He and Dorcas were the last to arrive, and, as Gilderoy said their names, Regulus noticed a boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at him in interest. He sat down next to Dorcas, and Emmeline brought them sandwiches and an array of sodas to choose from, while a boy who looked to be the oldest of the visitors rattled off the names of the seven others with him. All Regulus caught was that one of the girls was also named Rita, and the boy who noticed him was named Barty.

It was relaxing to sit with Dorcas; she was a restful kind of person to be around— she didn't feel the need to fill every silence with chatter. She left him free to think undisturbed while they ate. And Regulus was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in his mind. Regulus knew exactly what caused the difference, and it disturbed him.

During lunch, the clouds started to advance, slinking across the blue sky, darting in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the beach, and blackening the waves. As they finished eating, people started to drift away in twos and threes. Some walked down to the edge of the waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Others were gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Emmeline— with Pandora next to her— headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the local kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By the time they all had scattered, Regulus was sitting alone on his driftwood log, with Rita and Peter occupying themselves by the CD player someone had thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation perched around the circle, including the boy named Barty and the oldest boy who had acted as spokesperson.

A few minutes after Dorcas left with the hikers, Barty sauntered over to take her place by his side.

He looked eighteen, maybe seventeen, and had short, straight light brow hair. His skin was beautiful, silky and olive white; his eyes were blue, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin.

Altogether, a very pretty face. However, Regulus positive opinion of his looks was damaged by the first words out of his mouth.

"You're Reg or is it Regulus Black, aren't you?"

It was like the first day of school all over again.

"Regulus," he sighed.

"I'm Barty Crouch Jr." he held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "You bought my dad's truck."

"Oh," Regulus said, relieved, shaking his sleek hand. "You're Bartemius Sr’ son. I probably should remember you."

"No, I'm the youngest of the family— you would remember my older sisters."

"Elena and Haley," he suddenly recalled. Orion and Bartemius had thrown them together a lot during his visits, to keep them busy while they fished. They were all too shy to make much progress as friends. Of course, he'd kicked up enough tantrums to end the fishing trips by the time Regulus was eleven.

"Are they here?" he examined the girls at the ocean's edge, wondering if he would recognize them now.

"No." Barty shook his head. “Elena got a scholarship to Washington State, and Haley married a Samoan surfer — she lives in Hawaii now."

"Married. Wow." Regulus was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year older than he was.

"So, how do you like the truck?" Barty asked.

"I love it. It runs great."

"Yeah, but it's really slow," he laughed. "I was so relived when Orion bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we had a perfectly good vehicle right there."

"It's not that slow," Regulus objected.

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"No," Regulus admitted.

"Good. Don't." Barty grinned.

Regulus couldn't help grinning back. "It does great in a collision," he offered in his truck's defence.

"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed with another laugh.

"So, you build cars?" Regulus asked, impressed.

"When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he added jokingly. He had a pleasant, husky voice.

"Sorry," Regulus smirked, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes open for you." As if he knew what that was. Barty was very easy to talk with.

He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at him appreciatively in a way Regulus was learning to recognise "You know Regulus, Barty?" Rita asked— in what Regulus imagined was an insolent tone— from across the fire.

"We've sort of known each other since I was born," he laughed, smiling at Regulus again.

"How nice." she didn't sound like she thought it was nice at all, and her pale, fishy eyes narrowed.

"Regulus," she called again, watching his face carefully, "I was just saying to Peter that it was too bad none of the Potters could come out today. Didn't anyone think to invite them?" her expression of concern was unconvincing.

"You mean Dr. Fleamont Potter's family?" the tall, older boy, asked before Regulus could respond, much to Rita’ irritation. He was really closer to a man than a boy, and his voice was very deep.

"Yes, do you know them?" she asked condescendingly, turning halfway toward him.

"The Potters don't come here," he said in a tone that closed the subject, ignoring her question.

Peter, trying to win back her attention, asked Rita’ opinion on a CD he held. She was distracted.

Regulus stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback, but he was looking away toward the dark forest behind them. He'd said that the Potters didn't come here, but his tone had implied something more— that they weren't allowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strange impression on him, and Regulus tried to ignore it without success.

Barty interrupted his meditation. "So, is Forks driving you insane yet?"

"Oh, I'd say that's an understatement." Regulus grimaced. Barty grinned understandingly.

Regulus was still turning over the brief comment on the Potters, and he had a sudden inspiration. It was a stupid plan, but he didn't have any better ideas. He hoped that Barty was not going to get hurt or take it too seriously, so that he wouldn't see through Regulus’ sure-to-be-pitiful attempts at flirting.

"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" he asked, trying to imitate that way Potter had of looking up from underneath his eyelashes. It couldn't have nearly the same effect, Regulus was sure, but Barty jumped up willingly enough.

As they walked north across the multihued stones toward the driftwood seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the temperature to drop. Regulus shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.

"So you're, what, eighteen?" he asked, trying not to look like an idiot as he fluttered his eyelids the way he'd seen people do on TV.

"I just turned," Barty confessed, flattered.

"Really?" his face was full of false surprise. "I would have thought you were older."

"I'm tall for my age," he explained.

"Do you come up to Forks much?" Regulus asked archly, as if he was hoping for a yes. He sounded idiotic to himself. Regulus was afraid Barty would turn on him with disgust and accuse him of his fraud, but he still seemed flattered.

"Not too much," he admitted with a frown. "But when I get my car finished I can go up as much as I want— after I get my license," he amended.

"Who was that other boy Rita was talking to? He seemed a little old to be hanging out with us." Regulus purposefully lumped himself in with the youngsters, trying to make it clear that he preferred Barty.

"That's Ryan— he's nineteen," he informed him.

"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" Regulus asked innocently.

"The Potters? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." Barty looked away, out toward Rhone Island, as he confirmed what Regulus thought he'd heard in Ryan's voice.

"Why not?"

He glanced back at Regulus, biting his lip. "Oops. I'm not supposed to say anything about that."

"Oh, I won't tell anyone, I'm just curious." Regulus tried to make his face alluring, wondering if he was laying it on too thick.

Barty smiled back, though, looking allured. Then he lifted one eyebrow and his voice was even huskier than before.

"Do you like scary stories?" he asked ominously.

"I love them," Regulus enthused, making an effort to smoulder at him.

Barty strolled to a nearby driftwood tree that had its roots sticking out like the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. He perched lightly on one of the twisted roots while he sat beneath him on the body of the tree. He stared down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of his broad lips. Regulus could see he was going to try to make this good. Regulus focused on keeping the vital interest he felt out of his eyes.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from — the Walkers, I mean?" he began.

"Not really," Regulus admitted.

"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood — supposedly, the ancient," Barty smiled, to show Regulus how little stock he put in the histories. "Another legend claims that The Glass Walkers are one of the thirteen tribes of Garou. According to tribal legends, the Glass Walkers began as monitors of Humanity on orders of the Silver Fangs, who became intrigued by humanity's creativity and guile. Naturally, given the sceptical outlook most of the tribe possess, they are seen as allegories at best and utter rubbish at worst. Most Glass Walkers also tend to think of the Impergiums as allegories of werewolf activities back in these days.”

Werewolves, huh?

"Then there are the stories about the cold ones." Barty’ voice dropped a little lower.

"The cold ones?" Regulus asked, not faking his intrigue now.

"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land." he rolled his eyes.

"Your great-grandfather?" Regulus encouraged.

"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf— well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."

"Werewolves have enemies?"

"Only one."

Regulus stared at him earnestly, hoping to disguise his impatience as admiration.

"So you see," Barty continued, "The cold ones are traditionally our enemies. But this pack that came to our territory during my great-grandfather's time was different. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did— they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So, my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces."

He winked at Regulus.

"If they weren't dangerous, then why… ?" he tried to understand, struggling not to let Barty see how seriously he was considering his ghost story.

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they're civilized like this clan was. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist." he deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into his tone.

"What do you mean, 'civilized'?"

"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow able to prey on animals instead."

Regulus tried to keep his voice casual. "So, how does it fit in with the Potters? Are they like the cold ones your great-grandfather met?"

"No." Barty paused dramatically. "They are the same ones."

He must have thought the expression on his face was fear inspired by his story. He smiled, pleased, and continued.

"There are more of them now, two new males, but the rest are the same. In my great-grandfather's time, they already knew of the leader, Fleamont. He'd been here and gone before your people had even arrived." he was fighting a smile.

"And what are they?" Regulus finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"

He smiled darkly.

"Blood drinkers," he replied in a chilling voice. "Your people call them vampires."

Regulus stared out at the rough surf after he answered, not sure what his face was exposing.

"You have goose bumps," he laughed delightedly.

"You're a good storyteller," Regulus complimented him, still staring into the waves.

"Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn't want us to talk about it to anyone."

Regulus couldn't control his expression enough to look at him yet. "Don't worry, I won't give you away."

"I guess I just violated the treaty," Barty laughed.

"I'll take it to the grave," he promised, and then Regulus shivered.

"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Orion. He was pretty mad at my dad when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Dr. Potter started working there."

"I won't, of course not."

"So, do you think we're a bunch of superstitious groups or what?" he asked in a playful tone, but with a hint of worry. Regulus still hadn't looked away from the ocean.

He turned and smiled at Barty as normally as he could.

"No. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I still have goose bumps, see?" Regulus held up his arm.

"Cool." he smiled.

And then the sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other warned them that someone was approaching. Their heads snapped up at the same time to see Emmeline and Dora about fifty yards away, walking toward them.

"There you are, Regulus," Emmeline called in relief, waving her arm over her head.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Barty asked, alerted by the jealous edge in Emmeline' voice. Regulus was surprised it was so obvious.

"No, definitely not," he whispered. Regulus was tremendously grateful to Barty, and eager to make him as happy as possible. He winked at him, carefully turning away from Emmeline to do so. He smiled, elated by Regulus’ inept flirting.

"So when I get my license…" he began.

"You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." Regulus felt guilty as he said this, knowing that he'd used him. But he really did like Barty. He was someone Regulus could easily be friends with.

Emmeline had reached them now, with Pandora still a few paces back. Regulus could see her eyes appraising Barty, and looking dissatisfied at his obvious coolness.

"Where have you been?" she asked, though the answer was right in front of him.

"Barty was just telling me some local stories," Regulus volunteered. "It was really interesting."

He smiled at Barty warmly, and he grinned back.

"Well," Emmeline paused, carefully reassessing the situation as she watched their camaraderie. "We're packing up — it looks like it's going to rain soon."

They all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain.

"Okay." Regulus jumped up. "I'm coming."

"It was nice to see you again," Barty said, and Regulus could tell he was taunting Emmeline just a bit.

"It really was. Next time Orion comes down to see Bartemius, I'll come, too," he promised.

Barty’ grin stretched across his face. "That would be cool."

"And thanks," Regulus added earnestly.

He pulled up his hood as they tramped across the rocks, towards the parking lot. A few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones where they landed. When they got to the Suburban, the others were already loading everything back in. Regulus crawled into the back-seat by Dorcas and Marlene, announcing that he'd already had his turn in the shotgun position. Pandora just stared out the window at the escalating storm, and Rita twisted around in the middle seat to occupy Peter' attention, so Regulus could simply lay his head back on the seat and close his eyes and try very hard not to think.

Were James and his family really a group of vampires?

And if they were, did that mean Sirius…

~

Regulus told Orion he had a lot of homework to do, and that he didn't want anything to eat. There was a basketball game on that his father was excited about, though of course Regulus had no idea what was special about it, so Orion wasn't aware of anything unusual in his face or tone.

Once in his room, Regulus locked the door. He dug through his desk until he found his old headphones, and Regulus plugged them into his little CD player. He picked up a CD that Phil had given to him for Christmas. It was one of his favourite bands, but they used a little too much bass and shrieking for his tastes. Regulus popped it into place and laid down on his bed. He put on the headphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume until it hurt his ears. Regulus closed his eyes, but the light still intruded, so he added a pillow over the top half of his face.

He concentrated very carefully on the music, trying to understand the lyrics, to unravel the complicated drum patterns. By the third time he'd listened through the CD, Regulus knew all the words to the choruses, at least. Regulus was surprised to find that he really did like the band after all, once he got past the blaring noise.

He'd have to thank Phil again.

And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for him to think— which was the whole purpose of the exercise. Regulus listened to the CD again and again, until he was singing along with all the songs, until, finally, he fell asleep.

Regulus opened his eyes to a familiar place. Aware in some corner of his consciousness that he was dreaming, He recognised the green light of the forest. Regulus could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby. And he knew that if he found the ocean, he'd be able to see the sun. Regulus was trying to follow the sound, but then Barty Crouch was there, tugging on his hand, pulling him back toward the blackest part of the forest.

"Barty? What's wrong?" Regulus asked. Barty’ face was frightened as he yanked with all his strength against his resistance; Regulus didn't want to go into the dark.

"Run, Regulus, you have to run!" he whispered, terrified.

"This way, Regulus!" he recognized Pandora’ voice calling out of the gloomy heart of the trees, but Regulus couldn't see her.

"Why?" he asked, still pulling against Barty’ grasp, desperate now to find the sun.

But Barty let go of his hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the dim forest floor. He twitched on the ground as Regulus watched in horror.

"Barty!" he screamed. But he was gone. In his place was a large red-black wolf with blue eyes. The wolf faced away from Regulus, pointing toward the shore, the hair on the back of his shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from between his exposed fangs.

"Regulus, run!" Pandora cried out again from behind him. But Regulus didn't turn. He was watching a light coming toward him from the beach.

And then Potter stepped out from the trees, his skin faintly glowing, his eyes black and dangerous.

He held up one hand and beckoned Regulus to come to him. The wolf growled at his feet.

Regulus took a step forward, towards Potter. He smiled then, and his teeth were sharp, pointed.

"Trust me," he purred.

Regulus took another step.

The wolf launched himself across the space between Regulus and the vampire, fangs aiming for the jugular.

"No!" Regulus screamed, wrenching upright out of his bed.

His sudden movement caused the headphones to pull the CD player off the bedside table, and it clattered to the wooden floor.

Regulus’ light was still on, and he was sitting fully dressed on the bed, with his shoes on. He glanced, disoriented, at the clock on his dresser. It was five-thirty in the morning.

Regulus groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto his face, kicking off his shoes. He was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. Regulus rolled back over and unbuttoned his jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as he tried to stay horizontal. He could feel the curls of his hair, an uncomfortable ridge along the back of his skull. Regulus turned onto his side, quickly combing through his hair with his fingers. He pulled the pillow back over his eyes.

It was all no use, of course. Regulus’ subconscious had dredged up exactly the images he'd been trying so desperately to avoid. He was going to have to face them now.

He sat up, and his head spun for a minute as the blood flowed downward. First things first, Regulus thought to himself, happy to put it off as long as possible. He grabbed his bathroom bag.

The shower didn't last nearly as long as he hoped it would, though. Even taking the time to blow-dry his hair, Regulus was soon out of things to do in the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, he crossed back to his room. He couldn't tell if Orion was still asleep, or if he had already left. Regulus went to look out his window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again.

Regulus dressed slowly in his most comfy sweats and then made his bed— something he always did. He couldn't put it off any longer. He went to his desk and switched on his old computer. Regulus hated using the Internet here. His modem was sadly outdated, his free service substandard; just dialling up took so long that Regulus decided to go get himself a bowl of cereal while he waited.

Regulus ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When he was done, he washed the bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. His feet dragged as he climbed the stairs. Regulus went to his CD player first, picking it up off the floor and placing it precisely in the centre of the table. He pulled out the headphones, and put them away in the desk drawer. Then he turned the same CD on, turning it down to the point where it was background noise.

With another sigh, Regulus turned to his computer. Naturally, the screen was covered in pop-up ads. He sat in his hard folding chair and began closing all the little windows. Eventually, he made it to his favourite search engine. Regulus shot down a few more pop-ups and then typed in one word.

Vampire.

It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was a lot to sift through—everything from movies and TV shows to role-playing games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies.

Then he found a promising site — Vampires A—Z. Regulus waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicking closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally the screen was finished— simple white background with black text, academic-looking. Two quotes greeted Regulus on the home page:

Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure so terrible, no figure   so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself   neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and   terrible qualities of both. — Rev. Montague Summers

If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking:   official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the   judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who   believes in vampires? —   Rousseau

The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first Regulus clicked on, the Dano, was a French vampire supposedly responsible for planting some islands long ago. The myth continued that the Dano worked with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a Dano sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body completely of blood.

Regulus read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded familiar, let alone plausible.

It seemed that most vampire myths centred around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed like constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates for young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity. Many of the stories involved bodiless spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn't much that sounded like the movies he'd seen, and only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the Polish Upier, who were even preoccupied with drinking blood.

Only three entries really caught his attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni benefici.

About this last there was only one brief sentence.

Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.

It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires.

Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Barty’ stories or his own observations. He'd made a little catalogue in his mind as he'd read and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift colour; and then Barty’ criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.

And then another problem, one that Regulus had remembered from the small number of scary movies that he'd seen and was backed up by today's reading— vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night.

Aggravated, Regulus snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting to shut things down properly.

Through his irritation, he felt overwhelming embarrassment. It was all so stupid. Regulus was sitting in his room, researching vampires. What was wrong with him? He decided that most of the blame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks— and the entire sodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter.

Regulus had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere he wanted to go that didn't involve a three-day drive.

He pulled on his shoes anyway, unclear where he was headed, and went downstairs. He shrugged into his raincoat without checking the weather and stomped out the door.

It was overcast, but not raining yet. Regulus ignored his truck and started east on foot, angling across his father yard towards the ever-encroaching forest. It didn't take long till he was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible, for the only sound to be the squish of the damp earth under his feet and the sudden cries of the jays.

There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the forest here, or he wouldn't risk wandering on his own like this. Regulus’ sense of direction was hopeless; he could get lost in much less helpful surroundings.

The trail wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as he could tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks, the yews and the maples. Regulus only vaguely knew the names of the trees around him, and all he knew was due to Orion’ pointing them out to him from the cruiser window in earlier days.

There were many Regulus didn't know, and others he couldn't be sure about because they were so covered in green parasites.

He followed the trail as long as his anger at himself pushed him forward. As that started to ebb, he slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy above Regulus, but he couldn't be certain if it was beginning to rain or if it was simply pools left over from yesterday, held high in the leaves above him, slowly dripping their way back to the earth. A recently fallen tree— Regulus knew it was recent because it wasn't entirely carpeted in moss— rested against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. He stepped over the ferns and sat carefully, making sure his jacket was between the damp seat and his clothes wherever they touched, and leaned his hooded head back against the living tree.

This was the wrong place to have come. Regulus should have known, but where else was there to go? The forest was deep green and far too much like the scene in last night's dream to allow for peace of mind.

Now that there was no longer the sound of his soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were quiet, too, the drops increasing in frequency, so it must be raining above. The ferns stood higher than his head, now that he was seated, and Regulus knew someone could walk by on the path, three feet away, and not see him.

Here in the trees, it was much easier to believe the absurdities that embarrassed him indoors. Nothing had changed in this forest for thousands of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in Regulus clear-cut bedroom.

He forced himself to focus on the two most vital questions he had to answer, but he did so unwillingly.

First, Regulus had to decide if it was possible that what Barty had said about the Potters could be true.

Immediately, his mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly and morbid to entertain such ridiculous notions. But what, then? Regulus asked himself. There was no rational explanation for how he was alive at this moment. He listed again in his head the things he'd observed himself: the impossible speed and strength, the eye colour shifting from black to gold and back again, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more— small things that registered slowly— how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way they sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom. Potter had skipped class the day they'd done blood typing. He hadn't said no to the beach trip till he heard where they were going. He seemed to know what everyone around him was thinking… except him. Potter had told Regulus he was the villain, dangerous…

Could the Potters be vampires? The same question was resounding in Regulus’ head.

Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility of rational justification was taking place in front of his incredulous eyes. Whether it be Barty’ cold ones or his own superhero theory, James Potter was not… human. He was something more.

So then— maybe. That would have to be his answer for now.

And then the most important question of all. What was he going to do if it was true?

If Po- James was a vampire— he could hardly make himself think the words— then what should he do? Involving someone else was definitely out. Regulus couldn't even believe himself; anyone he told would have him committed.

Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take his advice: to be smart, to avoid him as much as possible. To cancel their plans, to go back to ignoring him as far as Regulus was able. To pretend there was an impenetrably thick glass wall between them in the one class where they were forced together. To tell James to leave him alone— and mean it this time.

Regulus was gripped in a sudden agony of despair as he considered that alternative. His mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping on to the next option.

He could do nothing different. After all, if he was something… sinister, he'd done nothing to hurt Regulus so far.

In fact, he would be a dent in Peter' fender if James hadn't acted so quickly. So quickly, he argued with himself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could he be? Regulus retorted.

His head spun around in answer less circles. There was one thing he was sure of, if Regulus was sure of anything. The dark James in his dream last night was a reflection only of his fear of the word Barty had spoken, and not James himself. Even so, when he'd screamed out in terror at the werewolf's lunge, it wasn't fear for the wolf that brought the cry of ‘no’ to his lips. It was fear that James would be harmed— even as he called to him with sharp-edged fangs, Regulus feared for him.

And he knew in that he had his answer. Regulus didn't know if there ever was a choice, really. He was already in too deep. Now that he knew — if he knew — he could do nothing about his frightening secret. Because when Regulus thought of him, of James’ voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, he wanted nothing more than to be with him right now. Even if… but he couldn't think it. Not here, alone in the darkening forest. Not while the rain made it dim as twilight under the canopy and pattered like footsteps across the matted earthen floor. Regulus shivered and rose quickly from his place of concealment, worried that somehow the path would have disappeared with the rain.

But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of the dripping green maze. Regulus followed it hastily, his hood pulled close around his face, becoming surprised, as he nearly ran through the trees, at how far he had come. He started to wonder if he was heading out at all, or following the path farther into the confines of the forest. Before he could get too panicky, though, Regulus began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed branches. And then he could hear a car passing on the street, and he was free, Orion’ lawn stretched out in front of him, the house beckoning him, promising warmth and dry socks. It was just noon when he got back inside. Regulus went upstairs and got dressed for the day, jeans and a t-shirt, since he was staying indoors. It didn't take too much effort to concentrate on his task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due Wednesday. Regulus settled into outlining a rough draft contentedly, more serene than he'd felt since… well, since Thursday afternoon, if he was being honest.

That had always been his way, though. Making decisions was the painful part for Regulus, the part he agonized over. But once the decision was made, he simply followed through— usually with relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair, like his decision to come to Forks. But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives.

This decision was ridiculously easy to live with. Dangerously easy.

And so the day was quiet, productive— Regulus finished his paper before eight. Orion came home with a large catch, and Regulus made a mental note to pick up a book of recipes for fish while he was in Seattle next week. The chills that flashed up his spine whenever he thought of that trip were no different than the ones he'd felt before he'd taken his walk with Barty Crouch. They should be different, Regulus thought. He should be afraid— he knew he should be, but Regulus couldn't feel the right kind of fear.

He slept dreamlessly that night, exhausted from beginning his day so early, and sleeping so poorly the night before. He woke, for the second time since arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. Regulus skipped to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that couldn't possibly be carrying any rain. He opened the window— surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in who knows how many years— and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm and hardly windy at all. His blood was electric in his veins.

Orion was finishing breakfast when he came downstairs, and he picked up on his mood immediately.

"Nice day out," he commented.

"Yes," Regulus agreed with a grin.

His father smiled back, his grey eyes crinkling around the edges. When Orion smiled, it was easier to see why he and his mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic Orion had been in those days had faded before Regulus had known him, as the curly brown hair— the same colour, if not the same texture, as his— had dwindled, slowly revealing more and more of the shiny skin of his forehead.

But when he smiled, Regulus could see a little of the man who had run away with Walburga when she was just a couple years older than he was now.

Regulus ate breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window.

Orion called out a goodbye, and he heard the cruiser pull away from the house. Regulus hesitated on his way out the door, hand on his rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. With a sigh, he folded it over his arm and stepped out into the brightest light he'd seen in months.

By dint of much elbow grease, he was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down. Regulus was one of the first ones to school; he hadn't even checked the clock in his hurry to get outside. He parked and headed toward the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still a little damp, so he sat on his jacket, glad to have a use for it. Regulus’ homework was done— the product of a slow social life— but there were a few Trig problems he wasn't sure he had right. Regulus took out his book industriously, but halfway through rechecking the first problem he was daydreaming, watching the sunlight play on the red-barked trees. Regulus sketched inattentively along the margins of his homework. After a few minutes, he suddenly realized he'd drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring out of the page at him. He scrubbed them out with the eraser.

"Regulus!" he heard someone call, and it sounded like Emmeline.

He looked around to realise that the school had become populated while he'd been sitting there, absent-minded. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Emmeline was coming toward him in shorts and a striped big shirt, waving.

"Hey, Emmeline," he called, waving back, unable to be half-hearted on a morning like this.

She came to sit by him, the tidy spikes of her hair shining beautifully in the light, her grin stretching across her face. She was so delighted to see him, Regulus couldn't help but feel gratified.

"I never noticed before— your hair has red in it," she commented, catching between her fingers a strand that was fluttering in the light breeze.

"Only in the sun."

Regulus became just a little uncomfortable as she tucked the lock behind his ear.

"Great day, isn't it?"

"My kind of day," Regulus agreed.

"What did you do yesterday?" her tone was just a bit too proprietary.

"I mostly worked on my essay." he didn't add that he was finished with it— no need to sound smug.

She hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Oh yeah— that's due Thursday, right?"

"Um, Wednesday, I think."

"Wednesday?" she frowned. "That's not good… What are you writing yours on?"

"Whether Shakespeare's treatment of the female characters is misogynistic."

She stared at Regulus like he'd just spoken in Latin.

"I guess I'll have to get to work on that tonight," she said, deflated. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go out."

"Oh." he was taken off guard. Why couldn't he ever have a pleasant conversation with Emmeline anymore without it getting awkward? They made such a good pair of friends.

"Well, we could go to dinner or something… and I could work on it later." she smiled at him hopefully.

"Emmeline…" he hated being put on the spot. "I don't think that would be the best idea."

Her face fell. "Why?" she asked, her eyes guarded. Regulus thoughts flickered to James, wondering if that's where her thoughts were as well.

"I think… and if you ever repeat what I'm saying right now I will cheerfully beat you to death," Regulus threatened, "But I think that would hurt Pandora’s feelings."

She was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all. "Pandora?"

"Really, Emmeline, are you blind?"

"Oh," she exhaled— clearly dazed. Regulus took advantage of that to make his escape.

"It's time for class, and I can't be late again." he gathered his books up and stuffed them in his bag.

They walked in silence to building three, and her expression was distracted. Regulus hoped whatever thoughts she was immersed in were leading her in the right direction.

When he saw Dora in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Dorcas, Marlene, and Rita were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted him to come, too, even though he didn't need one. Regulus was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, but Rita would be there. And who knew what he could be doing tonight… But that was definitely the wrong path to let his mind wander down. Of course Regulus was happy about the sunlight. But that wasn't completely responsible for the euphoric mood he was in, not even close.

So Regulus gave her a maybe, telling her he'd have to talk with Orion first.

She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and they were on their way to lunch. Regulus was far too lost in his own frenzy of anticipation to notice much of what she said. He was painfully eager to see not just him but all the Potters— to compare them with the new suspicions that plagued his mind. As Regulus crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, he felt the first true tingle of fear slither down his spine and settle in his stomach. Would they be able to know what he was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through Regulus— would James be waiting to sit with him again?

As was his routine, Regulus glanced first towards the Potter' table. A shiver of panic trembled in his stomach as he realised it was empty. With dwindling hope, his eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find James alone, waiting for him. The place was nearly filled— Spanish had made them late— but there was no sign of James or any of his family. Desolation hit Regulus with crippling strength.

He shambled along behind Pandora, not bothering to pretend to listen anymore.

They were late enough that everyone was already at their table. He avoided the empty chair next to Emmeline in favour of one by Alice. He vaguely noticed that Emmeline held the chair out politely for Pandora, and that her face lit up in response.

Dorcas asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which Regulus answered as naturally as he could while spiralling downward in misery. She, too, invited Regulus to go with them tonight, and he agreed now, grasping at anything to distract himself.

Regulus realised he'd been holding on to a last shred of hope when he entered Biology, saw James empty seat, and felt a new wave of disappointment.

The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, they had a lecture on the rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for him. But at least it meant he got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on  the court. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so Regulus got another day off tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm him with a racket before unleashing him on the rest of the class.

Regulus was glad to leave campus, so he would be free to pout and mope before he went out tonight with Dora and company. But right after he walked in the door of Orion’ house, Pandora called to cancel their plans. Regulus tried to be happy that Emmeline had asked her out to dinner— he really was relieved that she finally seemed to be catching on— but his enthusiasm sounded false in his own ears. She rescheduled their shopping trip for tomorrow night.

Which left Regulus with little in the way of distractions. He had fish marinating for dinner, with a salad and bread left over from the night before, so there was nothing to do there. He spent a focused half hour on homework, but then he was through with that, too. He checked his e-mail, reading the backlog of letter from his mother, getting snippier as they progressed to the present. Regulus sighed and typed a quick response.

Mother,

Sorry. I’ve been out. I went to the beach with some friends. And I had to write a paper.

How are you doing? Is Phil treating you alright?

My excuses were fairly pathetic, so I gave up on that.

It’s sunny outside today - I know, I’m shocked, too - so I’m going to go outside and soak up as much vitamin D as I can. I love you,

Regulus.

~

Regulus decided to kill an hour with non-school-related reading.

He had a small collection of books that came with him to Forks, the shabbiest volume being a compilation of the works of Jane Austen. He selected that one and headed to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs on his way down.

Outside in Orion’ small, square yard, Regulus folded the quilt in half and laid it out of the reach of the trees' shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. Regulus laid on his stomach, crossing his ankles in the air, flipping through the different novels in the book, trying to decide which would occupy his mind the most thoroughly. His favourites were Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility. He'd read the first most recently, so he started into Sense and Sensibility, only to remember after he began three that the hero of the story happened to be named James. Angrily, Regulus turned to Mansfield Park, but the hero of that piece was named Jack, and that was just too close.

Weren't there any other names available in the late eighteenth century? Regulus snapped the book shut, annoyed, and rolled over onto his back. He pushed his sleeves up as high as they would go, and closed his eyes. Regulus would think of nothing but the warmth on his skin, he told himself severely. The breeze was still light, but it blew tendrils of his hair around his face, and that tickled a bit. Regulus pulled all his curls over his head, letting it fan out on the quilt above him, and focused again on the heat that touched his eyelids, his cheekbones, his nose, his lips, his forearms, his neck, soaked through his light shirt…

The next thing Regulus was conscious of was the sound of Orion’ cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. He sat up in surprise, realising the light was gone, behind the trees, and he had fallen asleep. Regulus looked around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that he wasn't alone.

"Orion?" he asked. But he could hear his door slamming in front of the house.

Regulus jumped up, foolishly edgy, gathering the now-damp quilt and his book. He ran inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing that dinner would be late. His father was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when he came in.

"Sorry, Papa, dinner's not ready yet — I fell asleep outside." Regulus stifled a yawn.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I wanted to catch the score on the game, anyway."

Regulus watched TV with Orion after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't anything on he wanted to watch, but his father knew he didn't like baseball, so he turned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of them enjoyed.

His father seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite his depression, to make him happy.

"Papa," Regulus said during a commercial, "Pandora, Marlene and Dorcas are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose… do you mind if I go with them?"

"Pandora Rosier?" he asked.

"And Dorcas Meadows and Marlene McKinnon." Regulus sighed as he gave Orion the details.

He was confused. "But you're not going to the dance, right?"

"No, Papa, but I'm helping them find dresses— you know, giving them constructive criticism." he wouldn't have to explain this to his mother.

"Well, okay." his father seemed to realise that he was out of his depth with the girlie stuff— not that Regulus knew that much either. "It's a school night, though."

"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for dinner, right?"

"Reg, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he reminded Regulus.

"I don't know how you survived," Regulus muttered, then added more clearly, "I'll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, okay? Right on top."

It was sunny again in the morning. He awakened with renewed hope that he grimly tried to suppress. He dressed for the warmer weather in a deep black short handed jumper — something he'd worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix.

Regulus had planned his arrival at school so that he barely had time to make it to class. With a sinking heart, he circled the full lot looking for a space, while also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not there.

He parked in the last row and hurried to English, arriving breathless, but subdued, before the final bell. It was the same as yesterday— he just couldn't keep little sprouts of hope from budding in his mind, only to have them squashed painfully as Regulus searched the lunch room in vain and sat at his empty Biology table.

The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for tonight and made all the more attractive by the fact that Rita had other obligations. Regulus was anxious to get out of town so he could stop glancing over his shoulder, hoping to see James appearing out of the blue the way he always did. Regulus vowed to himself that he would be in a good mood tonight and not ruin his friends enjoyment in the dress hunting.

Maybe he could do a little clothes shopping as well. Regulus refused to think that he might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the earlier arrangement. Surely James wouldn't cancel without at least telling him.

After school, Pandora followed him home in her old white Mercury so that he could ditch his books and truck. He brushed through his hair quickly when he was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as Regulus contemplated getting out of Forks. He left a note for Orion on the table, explaining again where to find dinner, switched his scruffy wallet from his school bag to another wallet he rarely used, and ran out to join Dora. They went to Marlene’ house next, and she was waiting for them with Dorcas. His excitement increased exponentially as they actually drove out of the town limits.

Nothing could ruin the rest of the day for Regulus,

Nothing.

Chapter Text

Pandora drove faster than his father, they made it to Port Angeles by four. It had been a while since Regulus had a friends’ night out, and the rush was invigorating. They listened to whiny rock songs while Dora jabbered on about the people they hung out with. Pandora’ dinner with Emmeline had gone very well, and she was hoping that by Saturday night they would have progressed to the first-kiss stage. Regulus smiled to himself, pleased. Marlene was passively happy to be going to the dance, especially happy that she was attending with Dorcas. Pandora tried to get him to confess who his type was, but Regulus interrupted with a question about dresses after a bit, to spare him. Dorcas threw a grateful glance his way.

Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much more polished and quaint than Forks. But Marlene, Dorcas and Pandora knew it well, so they didn't plan to waste time on the picturesque board walk by the bay. Dora drove straight to the one big department store in town, which was a few streets in from the bay area's visitor-friendly face.

The dance was billed as semi formal, and they weren't exactly sure what that meant. Both Dorcas and Marlene seemed surprised and almost disbelieving when he told them he’d never been to a dance in Phoenix.

"Didn't you ever go with a boyfriend, girlfriend or something?" Marlene asked dubiously as they walked through the front doors of the store.

"Really," Regulus tried to convince her, not wanting to confess his dancing problems. "I've never had a boyfriend, girlfriend or anything close. I didn't go out much."

"Why not?" Dorcas demanded softly.

"No one asked me," he answered honestly.

She looked sceptical. "People ask you out here," she reminded him, "And you tell them no." they were in the juniors' section now, scanning the racks for dress-up clothes.

"Well, except for Peter," Marlene amended quietly.

"Excuse me?" Regulus gasped. "What did you say?"

"Peter told everyone he's taking you to prom," Marlene informed him with suspicious eyes.

"He said what?" he sounded like he was choking.

"I told you it wasn't true," Dorcas murmured to Marlene.

Regulus was silent, still lost in shock that was quickly turning to irritation. But they had found the dress racks, and now his friends had work to do.

"That's why Rita doesn't like you," Pandora giggled while they pawed through the clothes.

Regulus ground his teeth. "Do you think that if I ran him over with my truck he would stop feeling guilty about the accident? That he might give up on making amends and call it even?"

"Maybe," Marlene snickered. '"If that's why he's doing this."

The dress selection wasn't large, but his friends found a few things to try on. Regulus sat on a low chair just inside the dressing room, by the three-way mirror, trying to control his fuming.

Pandora was torn between two— one a long, strapless, basic pink number, the other a knee-length electric blue with spaghetti straps. Regulus encouraged her to go with the blue; why not play up the eyes?

Dorcas chose a pale dark dress that draped around her tall frame nicely and brought out honey tints in her beautiful curly hair. Marlene on the other hand, bought a gorgeous green suit that gave Regulus a bit of gender envy. She looked good. Regulus complimented the three of them generously and helped by returning the rejects to their racks. The whole process was much shorter and easier than similar trips he’d taken with Walburga at home. Regulus guesses there was something to be said for limited choices.

They headed over to shoes and accessories. While his friends tried things on, Regulus merely watched and critiqued, not in the mood to shop for himself, though he did need new shoes. The night high was wearing off in the wake of his annoyance at Peter, leaving room for the gloom to move back in.

"Dorcas?" he began, hesitant, while she was trying on a pair of white strappy heels— she was overjoyed to have a date with Marlene and also that she could wear high heels.

Pandora had drifted to the jewellery counter and Marlene was looking for her own shoes to wear so, they were alone.

"Yes?" she held her leg out, twisting her ankle to get a better view of the shoe.

Regulus slightly chickened out. "I like those."

"I think I'll get them— though they'll never match anything but the one dress," she mused.

"Oh, go ahead— they're on sale," he encouraged. Dorcas smiled, putting the lid back on a box that contained more practical-looking off-black shoes.

Regulus tried again. "Um, Cassie…" she looked up curiously.

"Is it normal for the… Potters" — he kept his eyes on the shoes — "To be out of school a lot?" Regulus failed miserably in his attempt to sound nonchalant, for once.

"Yes, when the weather is good they go backpacking all the time— even the doctor. They're all real outdoorsy," she told him quietly, examining her shoes, too. She didn't ask one question, let alone the hundreds that most people would have unleashed. Regulus was beginning to really like Dorcas the most.

"Oh." he let the subject drop as Dora returned to show them the rhinestone jewellery she'd found to match her silver shoes.

They planned to go to dinner at a little French restaurant on the board walk, but the dress shopping hadn't taken as long as they'd expected. His friends were going to take their clothes back to the car and then walk down to the bay. Regulus told them he would meet them at the restaurant in an hour— he wanted to look for a book store. Dorcas, Marlene and Pandora, were willing to come with him, but Regulus encouraged them to go have fun— they didn't know how preoccupied he could get when surrounded by books; it was something Regulus preferred to do alone. They walked off to the car chattering happily, and he headed in the direction Marlene pointed out.

Regulus had no trouble finding the book store, but it wasn't what he was looking for. The windows were full of crystals, dream-catchers, and books about spiritual healing. He didn't even go inside. Through the glass, Regulus could see a fifty-year-old woman with long, grey hair worn straight down her back, clad in a dress right out of the sixties, smiling welcomingly from behind the counter. Regulus decided that was one conversation he could skip. There had to be a normal book store in town.

Regulus meandered through the streets, which were filling up with end-of-the-workday traffic, and hoped he was headed toward down town. He wasn't paying as much attention as he should to where he was going; Regulus was wrestling with despair. He was trying so hard not to think about him, and what Dorcas had said… and more than anything trying to beat down his hopes for Saturday, fearing a disappointment more painful than the rest, when Regulus looked up to see someone's silver Volvo parked along the street and it all came crashing down on him. Stupid, unreliable vampire, Regulus thought to himself.

He stomped along in a southerly direction, toward some glass-fronted shops that looked promising. But when he got to them, they were just a repair shop and a vacant space. Regulus still had too much time to go looking for his friends yet, and he definitely needed to get his mood in hand before Regulus met back up with them. He ran his fingers through his curly hair a couple of times and took some deep breaths before he continued around the corner.

He started to realise, as he crossed another road, that he was going the wrong direction. The little foot traffic Regulus had seen was going north, and it looked like the buildings here were mostly warehouses. He decided to turn east at the next corner, and then loop around after a few blocks and try his luck on a different street on his way back to the board walk.

A group of four men turned around the corner he was heading for, dressed too casually to be heading home from the office, but they were too grimy to be tourists. As they approached him, Regulus realised they weren't too many years older than he was. They were joking loudly among themselves, laughing raucously and punching each other's arms. Regulus scooted as far to the inside of the side walk as he could to give them room, walking swiftly, looking past them to the corner.

"Hey, there!" one of them called as they passed, and he had to be talking to him since no one else was around. Regulus glanced up automatically. Two of them had paused, the other two were slowing. The closest, a heavyset, dark-haired man in his early twenties, seemed to be the one who had spoken. He was wearing a flannel shirt open over a dirty t-shirt, cut-off jeans, and sandals. He took half a step toward him.

"Hello," Regulus mumbled, a knee-jerk reaction. Then he quickly looked away and walked faster toward the corner. He could hear them laughing at full volume behind him.

"Hey, wait!" one of them called after him again, but he kept his head down and rounded the corner with a sigh of relief. Regulus could still hear them chortling behind him.

Regulus found himself on a side walk leading past the backs of several sombre-coloured warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the street had no side walk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. He'd wandered far past the part of Port Angeles that he, as a guest, was intended to see. It was getting  dark, Regulus realised, the clouds finally returning, piling up on the western horizon, creating an early sunset.

The eastern sky was still clear, but greying, shot through with streaks of pink and orange. Regulus had left his jacket in the car, and a sudden shiver made him cross his arms tightly across his chest. A single van passed him, and then the road was empty.

The sky suddenly darkened further, and, as Regulus looked over his shoulder to glare at the offending cloud, he realised with a shock that two men were walking quietly twenty feet behind him.

They were from the same group he'd passed at the corner, though neither was the dark-haired one who'd spoken to him. Regulus turned his head forward at once, quickening his pace. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather made him shiver again. Regulus purse was on a shoulder strap and he had it slung across his body, the way you were supposed to wear it so it wouldn't get snatched. He knew exactly where his pepper spray was— still in his duffel bag under the bed, never unpacked. Regulus didn't have much money with him, just a twenty and some ones, and he thought about "accidentally" dropping his bag and walking away.

But a small, frightened voice in the back of his mind warned him that they might be something worse than thieves.

Regulus listened intently to their quiet footsteps, which were much too quiet when compared to the boisterous noise they'd been making earlier, and it didn't sound like they were speeding up, or getting any closer to him. Breathe, he had to remind himself. He don't know if they're following him. Regulus continued to walk as quickly as he could without actually running, focusing on the right-hand turn that was only a few yards away from him now. Regulus could hear them, staying as far back as they'd been before. A blue car turned onto the street from the south and drove quickly past him. He thought of jumping out in front of it, but he hesitated, inhibited, unsure that he was really being pursued, and then it was too late.

Regulus reached the corner, but a swift glance revealed that it was only a blind drive to the back of another building. He was half-turned in anticipation; he had to hurriedly correct and dash across the narrow drive, back to the side walk. The street ended at the next corner, where there was a stop sign. Regulus concentrated on the faint footsteps behind him, deciding whether or not to run. They sounded farther back, though, and he knew they could outrun him in any case. Regulus was sure to trip and go sprawling if he tried to go any faster.

The footfalls were definitely farther back. Regulus risked a quick glance over his shoulder, and they were maybe forty feet back now, he saw with relief. But they were both staring at him.

It seemed to take forever for Regulus to get to the corner. He kept his pace steady, the men behind him falling ever so slightly farther behind with every step. Maybe they realized they had scared him and were sorry. Regulus saw two cars going north pass the intersection he was heading for, and he exhaled in relief.

There would be more people around once he got off this deserted street. Regulus skipped around the corner with a grateful sigh.

And skidded to a stop.

The street was lined on both sides by blank, door less, windowless walls. He could see in the distance, two intersections down, street lamps, cars, and more pedestrians, but they were all too far away.

Because lounging against the western building, midway down the street, were the other two men from the group, both watching with excited smiles as he froze dead on the side walk. Regulus realised then that he wasn't being followed.

Regulus was being herded.

He paused for only a second, but it felt like a very long time. He turned then and darted to the other side of the road. Regulus had a sinking feeling that it was a wasted attempt. The footsteps behind him were louder now.

"There you are!" the booming voice of the stocky, dark-haired man shattered the intense quiet and made him jump. In the gathering darkness, it seemed like he was looking past Regulus.

"Yeah," a voice called loudly from behind Regulus, making him jump again as he tried to hurry down the street.

"We just took a little detour."

His steps had to slow now. Regulus was closing the distance between himself and the lounging pair too quickly. He had a good loud scream, and he sucked in air, preparing to use it, but his throat was so dry, Regulus wasn't sure how much volume he could manage. With a quick movement he slipped his purse over his head, gripping the strap with one hand, ready to surrender it or use it as weapon as need demanded.

The thickset man shrugged away from the wall as Regulus warily came to a stop, and walked slowly into the street.

"Stay away from me," he warned in a voice that was supposed to sound strong and fearless. But he was right about the dry throat— no volume.

"Don't be like that, sweetheart," he called, and the raucous laughter started again behind Regulus.

Regulus braced himself, feet apart, trying to remember through his panic what little self-defence he knew. Heel of the hand thrust upward, hopefully breaking the nose or shoving it into the brain. Finger through the eye socket— try to hook around and pop the eye out. And the standard knee to the groin, of course.

Raising a brow, he said, “I’m not you’re anything, you ogre.”

That same pessimistic voice in his mind spoke up then, reminding Regulus that he probably wouldn't have a chance against one of them, and there were four. Shut up! He commanded the voice before terror could incapacitate him. Regulus wasn't going out without taking someone with him. He tried to swallow so he could build up a decent scream.

Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the car almost hitting the stocky one, forcing him to jump back toward the side walk. Regulus dove into the road— this car was going to stop, or have to hit him. But the silver car unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door open just a few feet from Regulus.

"Get in," a furious voice commanded.

It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of security washed over Regulus— even before he was off the street— as soon as he heard Potter’ voice. Regulus jumped into the seat, slamming the door shut behind him.

It was dark in the car, no light had come on with the opening of the door, and Regulus could barely see his face in the glow from the dashboard. The tires squealed as Potter spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving toward the stunned men on the street. Regulus caught a glimpse of them diving for the side walk as they straightened out and sped toward the harbour. 

"Put on your seat belt," Potter commanded, and Regulus realised he was clutching the seat with both hands. He quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt connected was loud in the darkness. Potter took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs without a pause.

But Regulus felt utterly safe and, for the moment, totally unconcerned about where they were going. He stared at his face in profound relief, relief that went beyond his sudden deliverance. Regulus studied his flawless features in the limited light, waiting for his breath to return to normal, until it occurred to him that Potter’ expression was murderously angry.

"Are you okay?" he asked, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded.

"No," Potter said curtly, and his tone was livid.

Regulus sat in silence, watching his face while his blazing eyes stared straight ahead, until the car came to a sudden stop. Regulus glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything beside the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. They weren't in town anymore.

"Reg?" he asked, his voice tight, controlled.

"Yes?" Regulus voice was still rough. He tried to clear his throat quietly.

"Are you all right?" Potter still didn't look at him, but the fury was plain on his face.

"Yes," he croaked softly.

"Distract me, please," he ordered.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He exhaled sharply.

"Just prattle about something unimportant until I calm down," Potter clarified, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Um." Regulus wrecked his brain for something trivial. "I'm going to run over Peter Pettigrew tomorrow before school?"

He was still squeezing his eyes closed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Why?"

"He's telling everyone that he's taking me to prom — either he's insane or he's still trying to make up for almost killing me last… well, you remember it, and he thinks prom is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, then we're even, and he can't keep trying to make amends. I don't need enemies and maybe Rita would back off if he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though. If he doesn't have a ride he can't take anyone to prom…" he babbled on.

"I heard about that." Potter sounded a bit more composed.

"You did?" Regulus asked in disbelief, his previous irritation flaring. "If he's paralysed from the neck down, he can't go to the prom, either," he muttered, refining his plan.

Potter sighed, and finally opened his eyes.

"Better?"

"Not really."

Regulus waited, but he didn't speak again. Potter leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. His face was rigid.

"What's wrong?" his voice came out in a whisper.

"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Reg." he was whispering, too, and as he stared out the window, his eyes narrowed into slits. "But it wouldn't be helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…" he didn't finish his sentence, looking away, struggling for a moment to control his anger again.

But there it was again… him calling him Reg.

Regulus hated that he was starting to get used to it.

"At least," Potter continued, "That's what I'm trying to convince myself."

"Oh." the word seemed inadequate, but Regulus couldn't think of a better response.

They sat in silence again. Regulus glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was past six-thirty.

"Marlene, Pandora and Dorcas will be worried," he murmured. "I was supposed to meet them."

Potter started the engine without another word, turning around smoothly and speeding back toward town.

They were under the street lights in no time at all, still going too fast, weaving with ease through the cars slowly cruising the board walk. He parallel-parked against the curb in a space Regulus would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but he slid in effortlessly in one try. Regulus looked out the window to see the lights of Le Petit Roi, and his friends were just leaving, pacing anxiously away from them.

"How did you know where… ?" Regulus began, but then he just shook his head. He heard the door open and turned to see Potter getting out.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm taking you to dinner." Potter smiled slightly, but his eyes were hard. He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. Regulus fumbled with his seat belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was waiting for him on the side walk.

He spoke before he could. "Go stop them before I have to track them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again."

Regulus shivered at the threat in his voice.

"Dora! Cassie! Marls!" he yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back to him, the pronounced relief on their faces simultaneously changing to surprise as they saw who he was standing next to.

They hesitated a few feet from them.

"Where have you been?" Pandora' voice was suspicious.

"I got lost," Regulus admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into Potter." he gestured toward him.

"Would it be all right if I joined you?" he asked in his silken, irresistible voice. Regulus could see from their staggered expressions that he had never unleashed his talents on them before.

"Er… sure," Pandora breathed.

"Um, actually, Regulus, we already ate while we were waiting— sorry," Marlene confessed.

"That's fine — I'm not hungry." he shrugged.

"I think you should eat something." Potter’ voice was low, but full of authority. He looked up at Dora and spoke slightly louder. "Do you mind if I drive Reg home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while he eats."

"Uh, no problem, I guess…" she bit her lip, trying to figure out from Regulus’ expression whether that was what he wanted. Regulus winked at her. He wanted nothing more than to be alone with his perpetual saviour.

There were so many questions that he couldn't bombard him with till they were by themselves.

"Okay." Dorcas was quicker than Pandora. "See you tomorrow, Regulus… James." she grabbed Pandora’ hand and pulled her toward the car,— with Marlene’ hand being held by Dorcas with her left hand— which Regulus could see a little ways away, parked across First Street.

As they got in, Dora turned and waved, her face eager with curiosity. He waved back, waiting for them to drive away before he turned to face Potter.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry," Regulus insisted, looking up to scrutinize his face. Potter’ expression was unreadable.

"Humour me."

He walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open with an obstinate expression. Obviously, there would be no further discussion. Regulus walked past him into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.

The restaurant wasn't crowded— it was the off-season in Port Angeles. The host was female, and Regulus understood the look in her eyes as she assessed Potter. She welcomed him a little more warmly than necessary. Regulus was surprised by how much that bothered him. She was several inches taller than he was, and unnaturally blonde.

Regulus was not in any way jealous, he wasn’t.

"A table for two?" his voice was alluring, whether he was aiming for that or not. Regulus saw her eyes flicker to him and then away, satisfied by his obvious ordinariness, and by the cautious, no-contact space Potter kept between them. She led them to a table big enough for four in the centre of the most crowded area of the dining floor.

Regulus was about to sit, but Potter shook his head at him.

"Perhaps something more private?" he insisted quietly to the host. Regulus wasn't sure, but it looked like he smoothly handed her a tip. He'd never seen anyone refuse a table except in old movies.

"Sure." she sounded as surprised as Regulus was. She turned and led them around a partition to a small ring of booths— all of them empty. "How's this?"

"Perfect." Potter flashed his gleaming smile, dazing her momentarily.

"Um" — she shook her head, blinking — "Your server will be right out." she walked away unsteadily.

"You really shouldn't do that to people," Regulus criticized. "It's hardly fair."

"Do what?"

"Dazzle them like that— she's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now."

He seemed confused.

"Oh, come on," Regulus said dubiously. "You have to know the effect you have on people."

He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes were curious. "I dazzle people?"

"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?"

He ignored his questions. "Do I dazzle you?"

"Frequently," Regulus admitted shyly.

And then their server arrived, her face expectant. The hostess had definitely dished behind the scenes, and this new girl didn't look disappointed. She flipped a strand of short black hair behind one ear and smiled with unnecessary warmth.

"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?" Regulus didn't miss that she was speaking only to him.

Potter looked at him.

"I'll have a Coke." it sounded like a question.

"Two Cokes," he said.

"I'll be right back with that," she assured him with another unnecessary smile. But he didn't see it. He was still watching him.

"What?" Regulus asked when she left.

His eyes stayed fixed on his face. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he replied, surprised by his intensity.

"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold… ?"

"Should I?"

He chuckled at his puzzled tone.

"Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock." Potter’ face twisted up into that perfect crooked smile.

"I don't think that will happen," Regulus said after he could breathe again. "I've always been very good at repressing unpleasant things."

"Just the same, I'll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you." right on cue, the waitress appeared with their drinks and a basket of bread sticks. She stood with her back to Regulus as she placed them on the table.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked Potter.

"Reg?" he asked. She turned unwillingly toward him.

He picked the first thing he saw on the menu. "Um… I'll have the mushroom ravioli."

"And you?" she turned back to him with a smile.

"Nothing for me," he said.

Of course not, Regulus thought, inwardly rolling his eyes.

"Let me know if you change your mind." the coy smile was still in place, but he wasn't looking at her, and she left dissatisfied.

"Drink," he ordered.

Regulus sipped at his soda obediently, and then drank more deeply, surprised by how thirsty he was. He realised he had finished the whole thing when Potter pushed his glass toward him.

"Thanks," he muttered, still thirsty. The cold from the icy soda was radiating through his chest, and Regulus shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"It's just the Coke," he explained, shivering again.

"Don't you have a jacket?" his voice was disapproving.

"Yes." Regulus looked at the empty bench next to him. "Oh — I left it in Pandora’ car," he realised.

Potter was shrugging out of his jacket. Regulus suddenly realised that he had never once noticed what he was wearing — not just tonight, but ever. He just couldn't seem to look away from his face. Regulus made himself look now, focusing. Potter was removing a light beige leather jacket now; underneath he wore an ivory turtle-neck sweater. It fit him snugly, emphasizing how muscular his chest was.

He handed Regulus the jacket, interrupting his ogling.

"Thanks," Regulus said again, sliding his arms into his jacket. It was cold — the way his jacket felt when he first picked it up in the morning, hanging in the drafty hallway. Regulus shivered again. It smelled amazing. He inhaled, trying to identify the delicious scent. It didn't smell like cologne. The sleeves were much too long; Regulus shoved them back so he could free his hands.

"That colour blue looks lovely with your skin," Potter said, watching him. He was surprised; Regulus looked down, slightly flushing, of course.

Potter pushed the bread basket toward him.

"Really, I'm not going into shock," Regulus protested.

"You should be— a normal person would be. You don't even look shaken." he seemed unsettled. He stared into Regulus’ eyes, and Regulus saw how light his eyes were, lighter than he'd ever seen them, golden butterscotch.

"I don’t know why but I feel very safe with you," Regulus confessed, mesmerised into telling the truth again.

That displeased him; his alabaster brow furrowed. Potter shook his head, frowning.

"This is more complicated than I'd planned," Potter murmured to himself.

Regulus picked up a bread stick and began nibbling on the end, measuring his expression. He wondered when it would be okay to start questioning him.

"Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are so light," he commented, trying to distract him from whatever thought had left him frowning and sombre.

He stared at Regulus, stunned. "What?"

"You're always crabbier when your eyes are black — I expect it then," Regulus went on. "I have a theory about that."

His eyes narrowed. "More theories?"

"Mm-hm." he chewed on a small bite of the bread, trying to look indifferent.

"I hope you were more creative this time… or are you still stealing from comic books?" his faint smile was mocking; his eyes were still tight.

"Well, no, I didn't get it from a comic book, but I didn't come up with it on my own, either," Regulus confessed.

"And?" he prompted.

But then the waitress strode around the partition with his food. Regulus realised they'd been unconsciously leaning toward each other across the table, because they both straightened up as she approached. She set the dish in front of him— it looked pretty good— and turned quickly to Potter.

"Did you change your mind?" she asked. "Isn't there anything I can get you?" Regulus may have been imagining the double meaning in her words.

"No, thank you, but some more soda would be nice." he gestured with a long white hand to the empty cups in front of Regulus.

"Sure." she removed the empty glasses and walked away.

"You were saying?" Potter asked.

"I'll tell you about it in the car. If…" he paused.

"There are conditions?" Potter raised one eyebrow, his voice ominous.

"I do have a few questions, of course."

"Of course."

The waitress was back with two more Cokes. She sat them down without a word this time, and left again.

Regulus took a sip.

"Well, go ahead," he pushed, his voice still hard.

Regulus started with the most undemanding. Or so he thought. "Why are you in Port Angeles?"

Potter looked down, folding his large hands together slowly on the table. His eyes flickered up at him from under his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his face.

"Next."

"But that's the easiest one," he objected.

"Next," he repeated.

Regulus looked down, frustrated. He unrolled his silverware, picked up his fork, and carefully speared a ravioli.

He put it in his mouth slowly, still looking down, chewing while he thought. The mushrooms were good. Regulus swallowed and took another sip of Coke before he looked up.

"Okay, then." Regulus glared at Potter, and continued slowly. "Let's say, hypothetically of course, that… someone… could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know — with a few exceptions."

"Just one exception," he corrected, "Hypothetically."

"All right, with one exception, then." Regulus was thrilled that he was playing along, but he tried to seem casual.

"How does that work? What are the limitations? How would… that someone… find someone else at exactly the right time? How would he know he was in trouble?" Regulus wondered if his convoluted questions even made sense.

"Hypothetically?" Potter asked.

"Sure."

"Well, if… that someone…"

"Let's call him 'Alex’, " he suggested.

He smiled wryly. "Alex, then. If Alex had been paying attention, the timing wouldn't have needed to be quite so exact." Potter shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Only you could get into trouble in a town this small. You would have devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade, you know."

"We were speaking of a hypothetical case," Regulus reminded him frostily.

Potter laughed at him, his eyes warm.

Regulus needed James Potter to stop laughing at him.

Regulus wanted James Potter to keep laughing at him forever.

Yeah, no.

No, none of that.

That was enough musing.

"Yes, we were," Potter agreed. "Shall we call you 'Henry'?"

"How did you know?" Regulus asked, unable to curb his intensity. He realised he was leaning toward him again.

Potter seemed to be wavering, torn by some internal dilemma. His eyes locked with Regulus’, and he guessed Potter was making the decision right then whether or not to simply tell him the truth.

"You can trust me, you know," Regulus murmured. He reached forward, without thinking, to touch Potter’ folded hands, but he slid them away minutely, and Regulus pulled his hand back.

"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." his voice was almost a whisper. "I was wrong — you're much more observant than I gave you credit for."

"I thought you were always right."

"I used to be." he shook his head again. "I was wrong about you on one other thing, as well. You're not a magnet for accidents— that's not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."

"And you put yourself into that category?" Regulus guessed.

Potter’ face turned cold, expressionless. "Unequivocally."

Regulus stretched his hand across the table again— ignoring Potter when he pulled back slightly once more— to touch the back of his hand shyly with his fingertips. His skin was cold and hard, like a stone.

"Thank you." Regulus voice was fervent with gratitude. "That's twice now."

His face softened. "Let's not try for three, agreed?"

Regulus scowled, but nodded. Potter moved his hand out from under his, placing both of his under the table.

But he leaned toward him.

"I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush. "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes." Potter paused. Regulus wondered if it should bother him that he was following him; instead he felt a strange surge of pleasure. Potter stared, maybe wondering why Regulus’ lips were curving into an involuntary smile.

"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been interfering with fate?" Regulus speculated, distracting himself.

"That wasn't the first time," he said, and his voice was hard to hear. Regulus stared at him in amazement, but Potter was looking down. "Your number was up the first time I met you." Regulus felt a spasm of fear at his words, and the abrupt memory of his violent black glare that first day… but the overwhelming sense of safety he felt in his presence stifled it. By the time he looked up to read his eyes, there was no trace of fear in them.

"You remember?" he asked, his angel's face grave.

"Yes." he was calm.

"And yet here you sit." there was a trace of disbelief in Potter’ voice; he raised one eyebrow.

"Yes, here I sit… because of you." Regulus paused. "Because somehow you knew how to find me today… ?" he prompted.

Potter pressed his lips together, staring at him through narrowed eyes, deciding again. His eyes flashed down to his full plate, and then back to him.

"You eat, I'll talk," he bargained.

Regulus quickly scooped up another ravioli and popped it in his mouth.

"It's harder than it should be — keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before." Potter looked at him anxiously, and Regulus realised he had frozen. Regulus made himself swallow, then stabbed another ravioli and tossed it in.

I shouldn’t feel surprised about this, it had been a bit obvious, Regulus thought.

"I was keeping tabs on Pandora, not carefully— like I said, only you could find trouble in Port Angeles— and at first I didn't notice when you took off on your own. Then, when I realised that you weren't with her anymore, I went looking for you at the book store I saw in her head. I could tell that you hadn't gone in, and that you'd gone south… and I knew you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street— to see if anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I had no reason to be worried… but I was strangely anxious…"

Potter was lost in thought, staring past him, seeing things Regulus couldn't imagine.

"I started to drive in circles, still… listening. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then —" he stopped, clenching his teeth together in sudden fury. He made an effort to calm himself.

"Then what?" Regulus whispered. He continued to stare over his head.

"I heard what they were thinking," he growled, his upper lip curling slightly back over his teeth. "I saw your face in his mind." Potter suddenly leaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, his hand covering his eyes. The movement was so swift it startled Regulus.

"It was very… hard— you can't imagine how hard— for me to simply take you away, and leave them… alive." his voice was muffled by his arm. "I could have let you go with your friends, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them," he admitted in a whisper.

Regulus sat quietly, dazed, his thoughts incoherent. His hands were folded in his lap, and he was leaning weakly against the back of the seat. Potter still had his face in his hand, and he was as still as if he'd been carved from the stone his skin resembled.

Finally he looked up, his eyes seeking his, full of his own questions.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked.

"I'm ready to leave," Regulus qualified, overly grateful that they had the hour-long ride home together. He wasn't ready to say goodbye to Potter.

The waitress appeared as if she'd been called. Or watching.

"How are we doing?" she asked Potter.

"We're ready for the check, thank you." his voice was quiet, rougher, still reflecting the strain of their conversation. It seemed to muddle her. He looked up, waiting.

"S-sure," she stuttered. "Here you go." she pulled a small leather folder from the front pocket of her black apron and handed it to him.

There was a bill in his hand already. He slipped it into the folder and handed it right back to her.

"No change." Potter smiled. Then he stood up, and Regulus scrambled awkwardly to his feet.

She smiled invitingly at him again. "You have a nice evening."

Potter didn't look away from Regulus as he thanked her. Regulus suppressed a smile.

He walked close beside him to the door, still careful not to touch him. Regulus remembered what Dora had said about her relationship with Emmeline, how they were almost to the first-kiss stage. Regulus sighed. Potter seemed to hear him, and he looked down curiously. Regulus looked at the side walk, grateful that he didn't seem to be able to know what he was thinking.

He opened the passenger door, holding it for him as Regulus stepped in, shutting it softly behind him. Regulus watched him walk around the front of the car, amazed, yet again, by how graceful Potter was. Regulus probably should have been used to that by now — but he wasn't. He had a feeling Potter wasn't the kind of person anyone got used to.

Once inside the car, he started the engine and turned the heater on high. It had gotten very cold, and Regulus guessed the good weather was at an end. He was warm in Potter’ jacket, though, breathing in the scent of it when Regulus thought he couldn't see.

Potter pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance, flipping around to head toward the freeway.

"Now," he said significantly, "It's your turn."

Looking at him as he drove, Regulus just had this one particular thought in his head…

Who are you exactly going to be to me, James Potter?

My biggest regret or the best thing I will get to hold in this life?

Chapter Text

"Can I ask just one more?" Regulus pleaded as James accelerated much too quickly down the quiet street.

He didn't seem to be paying any attention to the road.

He sighed.

"One," he agreed. His lips pressed together into a cautious line.

"Well… you said you knew I hadn't gone into the book store, and that I had gone south. I was just wondering how you knew that."

James looked away, deliberating.

"I thought we were past all the evasiveness," Regulus grumbled.

He almost smiled. “What was that?”

“Try to keep up.”

“Oh, I can handle you.”

You don’t know how badly I want you to, Regulus thought to himself as he tried to focus back on the present situation.

"Fine, then. I followed your scent." James looked at the road, giving Regulus time to compose his face. He couldn't think of an acceptable response to that, but he filed it carefully away for future study. Regulus tried to refocus.

Regulus wasn't ready to let him be finished, now that he was finally explaining things.

"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions…" he stalled.

James looked at him with disapproval. "Which one?"

"How does it work — the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody's mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family… ?" Does Sirius… Regulus felt silly, asking for clarification on make-believe.

"That's more than one," he pointed out. Regulus simply intertwined his fingers and gazed at him, waiting.

"No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone's… 'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles." James paused thoughtfully. "It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum — a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear.”

"Most of the time I tune it all out — it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal" — he frowned as he said the word — "When I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."

"Why do you think you can't hear me?" Regulus asked curiously.

He looked at him, his eyes enigmatic.

"I don't know," James murmured. "The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." He grinned at him, suddenly amused.

"My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?" the words bothered Regulus more than they should— probably because his speculation hit home. He'd always suspected as much, and it embarrassed him to have it confirmed.

“No, not a freak. I would say maybe special,” James paused, his eyes shining in amusement once again. “Plus if I could, I would love to hear your thoughts, Reg.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes. “Please, you wouldn’t possibly be able to understand the complexities that go on up here—” he pointed to his forehead, “—although seeing you struggle to gasp my intellectual superiority will be my new favourite pastime.”

James chuckled. His giggles would be echoed in Regulus’ mind for the next days.

"I hear voices in my mind and you're worried that you're the freak," he laughed. "Don't worry, it's just a theory…" James’ face tightened. "Which brings us back to you."

Regulus sighed. How to begin?

"Aren't we past all the evasions now?" James reminded him softly.

Regulus looked away from his face for the first time, trying to find words. He happened to notice the speedometer.

"Bloody hell!" Regulus shouted. "Slow down!"

"What's wrong?" James was startled. But the car didn't decelerate.

"You're going a hundred miles an hour!" he was still shouting. Regulus shot a panicky glance out the window, but it was too dark to see much. The road was only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from the headlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a black wall  as hard as a wall of steel if they veered off the road at this speed.

"Relax, Regulus." he rolled his eyes, still not slowing.

"Are you trying to kill us?" Regulus demanded.

"We're not going to crash."

He tried to modulate his voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

"I always drive like this." James turned to smile crookedly at him.

"Keep your eyes on the road!" Regulus exclaimed, accidentally slapping his cheek, so James’ head faced front again. His skin was certainly cold, smooth, and weird… hard?

James blinked. He appeared stunned, maybe he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten slapped in the face… You know, with the whole vampire stuff.

"I've never been in an accident, Reg — I've never even gotten a ticket." James grinned and tapped his forehead. "Built-in radar detector."

"Very funny." Regulus fumed. "Orion’ a cop, remember? I was raised to abide by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away."

"Probably," he agreed with a short, hard laugh. "But you can't." James sighed, and he watched with relief as the needle gradually drifted toward eighty. "Happy?"

"Almost."

"I hate driving slow," he muttered.

"This is slow?"

"Enough commentary on my driving," he snapped. "I'm still waiting for your latest theory."

Regulus bit his lip. James looked down at him, his honey eyes unexpectedly gentle.

"I won't laugh," he promised.

"I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me."

"Is it that bad?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

He waited. Regulus was looking down at his hands, so he couldn't see James’ expression.

"Go ahead." his voice was calm.

"I don't know how to start," Regulus admitted.

"Why don't you start at the beginning… you said you didn't come up with this on your own."

"No."

"What got you started — a book? A movie?" he probed.

"No — it was Saturday, at the beach." Regulus risked a glance up at his face. He looked puzzled.

"I ran into an old family friend —Barty Crouch," he continued. "His dad and Orion have been friends since I was a baby."

He still looked confused.

"His dad is one of the Glass Walkers elders." Regulus watched him carefully. James confused expression froze in place.

"We went for a walk—" he edited all his scheming out of the story “—and he was telling me some old legends— trying to scare me, I think. He told me one…" Regulus hesitated.

"Go on," James said.

"About vampires." Regulus realised he was whispering. He couldn't look at his face now. But he saw James knuckles tighten convulsively on the wheel.

"And you immediately thought of me?" still calm.

"No. He… mentioned your family."

He was silent, staring at the road.

Regulus was worried suddenly, worried about protecting Barty.

"He just thought it was a silly superstition," he said quickly. "He didn't expect me to think anything of it."

It didn't seem like enough; Regulus had to confess. "It was my fault, I forced him to tell me."

"Why?"

"Rita said something about you— she was trying to provoke me. And an older boy from the group said your family didn't come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different. So I got Barty alone and I tricked it out of him," he admitted, hanging his head.

James startled him by laughing. Regulus glared up at him. He was laughing, but his eyes were fierce, staring ahead.

"Tricked him how?" he asked.

"I tried to flirt— it worked better than I thought it would." disbelief coloured his tone as he remembered.

"I'd like to have seen that." James chuckled darkly. "And you accused me of dazzling people— poor Barty Crouch."

Regulus couldn’t help but blush and looked out his window into the night.

"What did you do then?" he asked after a minute.

"I did some research on the Internet."

"And did that convince you?" his voice sounded barely interested. But his hands were clamped hard onto the steering wheel.

"No. Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…" Regulus stopped.

"What?"

"I decided it didn't matter," he whispered.

"It didn't matter?" James’ tone made Regulus look up— he had finally broken through his carefully composed mask. His face was incredulous, with just a hint of the anger he'd feared.

"No," Regulus said softly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."

A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human!"

"No."

James was silent, staring straight ahead again. His face was bleak and cold.

"You're angry," Regulus sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," he said, but his tone was as hard as his face. "I'd rather know what you're thinking— even if what you're thinking is insane."

"So I'm wrong again?" Regulus challenged.

"That's not what I was referring to. 'It doesn't matter'!" he quoted, gritting his teeth together.

"I'm right?" Regulus gasped.

Plus, it was relatively obvious once all the pieces were in place, Regulus thought. Although part of him was furious that he hadn’t know until know that vampires existed. What other creatures were lurking about that he didn’t know or that the world didn’t know of? That science couldn’t explain? Could he be the first to discover them? Regardless, he couldn’t share his findings, there had to be a reason why vampires lived in secrecy… Regulus toned down his inner mad scientist and tapped into his more humane side of himself. Exposing them would mean excessive hunting, experimentation, perhaps even extinction. Human weren’t too keen on things different from them, even if that meant other human.

"Does it matter?"

Regulus took a deep breath.

"Not really." he paused. "But I am curious." his voice, at least, was composed.

James was suddenly resigned. "What are you curious about?"

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," he answered promptly.

"And how long have you been seventeen?"

His lips twitched as he stared at the road. "A while," he admitted at last.

"Okay." Regulus smiled, pleased that he was still being honest with him. James stared down at him with watchful eyes, much as he had before, when he was worried Regulus would go into shock. Regulus smiled wider in encouragement, and he frowned.

"Don't laugh— but how can you come out during the daytime?"

James laughed anyway. "Myth."

"Burned by the sun?"

"Myth."

"Sleeping in coffins?"

"Myth." He hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered his voice. "I can't sleep."

It took Regulus a minute to absorb that. "At all?" he looked at James stunned. Sleeping was such a blessing, a moment in time where his mind was full of control of everything, his reality, surroundings, sounds, feelings— he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to loose sleep.

"Never," he said, his voice nearly inaudible. He turned to look at Regulus with a wistful expression. The golden eyes held his, and Regulus lost his train of thought. He stared at James until he looked away.

"You haven't asked me the most important question yet." James voice was hard now, and when he looked at him again his eyes were cold.

Regulus blinked, still dazed. "Which one is that?"

"You aren't concerned about my diet?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh," Regulus murmured, "That."

"Yes, that." James voice was bleak. "Don't you want to know if I drink blood?"

Regulus flinched. "Well, Barty said something about that."

"What did Barty say?" he asked flatly.

"He said you didn't… hunt people. He said your family wasn't supposed to be dangerous because you only hunted animals."

"He said we weren't dangerous?" his voice was deeply sceptical.

"Not exactly. He said you weren't supposed to be dangerous. But the Glass Walkers still didn't want you on their land, just in case."

He looked forward, but Regulus couldn't tell if he was watching the road or not.

"So was he right? About not hunting people?" Regulus tried to keep his voice as even as possible.

"The Glass Walkers have a long memory," he whispered.

Regulus took it as a confirmation.

"Don't let that make you complacent, though," he warned Regulus. "They're right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous."

"I don't understand."

"We try," he explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."

"This is a mistake?" he heard the sadness in his voice, but Regulus didn't know if James could as well.

"A very dangerous one," he murmured.

They were both silent then. Regulus watched the headlights twist with the curves of the road. They moved too fast; it didn't look real, it looked like a video game. He was aware of the time slipping away so quickly, like the black road beneath them, and Regulus was hideously afraid that he would never have another chance to be with James like this again— openly, the walls between them gone for once. His words hinted at an end, and Regulus recoiled from the idea. He couldn't waste one minute he had with him.

"Tell me more," Regulus asked desperately, not caring what James said, just so he could hear his voice again.

James looked at Regulus quickly, startled by the change in his tone. "What more do you want to know?"

"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," he suggested, his voice still tinged with desperation. Regulus realised his eyes were wet, and he fought against the grief that was trying to overpower him.

"I don't want to be a monster." His voice was very low.

“All predators are dangerous, including humans,” Regulus said, crossing his arms. “You see, humans have killed other humans before the countless amount of time. Merlin, you lived through two world wars, haven’t you? You’ve witnessed first-hand the calibre of human violence. Moreover, animals have killed humans before— bears, wolves, snakes, alligators, mountain lions. Even mother nature had shed human blood with earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes. I’m assuming in the past you were human until the day came that you weren’t. You are now a vampire, this places you higher than humans on the food chain— you’re an apex predator. No one bats an eye when a bird eats a worm, so why should I care what you eat? If you were to kill me, James, say out of starvation and limited access to human blood, should I condemn you for that? No. If I were in a dire situation I would think of my own survival above all else… because at the end of the day, that’s what life is— survival of the fittest.”

James looked to be contemplating the weight of Regulus’ words. “But I could still get very hungry and that…”

"Aren’t animals enough?"

He paused. "I can't be sure, of course, but I'd compare it to living on tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn't completely satiate the hunger — or rather thirst. But it keens us strong enough to resist. Most of the time." James’ tone turned ominous. "Sometimes it's more difficult than others."

"Is it very difficult for you now?" Regulus asked.

He sighed. "Yes."

"But you're not hungry now," he said confidently— stating, not asking.

"Why do you think that?"

"Your eyes. I told you I had a theory. I've noticed that people— certain vampire in particular —are crabbier when they're hungry."

He chuckled. "You are observant, aren't you?"

Regulus didn't answer; he just listened to the sound of James’ laugh, committing it to memory.

"Were you hunting this weekend, with Lu- I mean Remus?" Regulus asked when it was quiet again.

"Yes." James paused for a second, as if deciding whether or not to say something. "I didn't want to leave, but it was necessary. It's a bit easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty."

"Why didn't you want to leave?"

"It makes me… anxious… to be away from you." James eyes were gentle but intense, and they seemed to be making Regulus bones turn soft. "I wasn't joking when I asked you to try not to fall in the ocean or get run over last Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. And after what happened tonight, I'm surprised that you did make it through a whole weekend unscathed." he shook his head, and then seemed to remember something. "Well, not totally unscathed."

"What?"

"Your hands," he reminded Regulus. He looked down at his palms, at the almost-healed scrapes across the heels of his hands. James eyes missed nothing.

"I fell," Regulus sighed.

"That's what I thought." his lips curved up at the corners. "I suppose, being you, it could have been much worse — and that possibility tormented me the entire time I was away. It was a very long three days. I really got on Remus’ nerves." James smiled ruefully at him.

"Three days? Didn't you just get back today?"

"No, we got back Sunday."

"Then why weren't any of you in school?" he was frustrated, almost angry as he thought of how much disappointment he had suffered because of his absence.

"Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't go out in the sunlight— at least, not where anyone can see."

"Why?"

"I'll show you sometime," James promised.

Regulus thought about it for a moment.

"You might have called me," he decided.

James was puzzled. "But I knew you were safe."

"But I didn't know where you were. I —" Regulus hesitated, dropping his eyes.

"What?" his velvety voice was compelling.

"I didn't like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too." Regulus blushed to be saying this out loud.

He was quiet. Regulus glanced up, apprehensive, and saw that his expression was pained.

"Ah," he groaned quietly. "This is wrong."

Regulus couldn't understand his response. "What did I say?"

"Don't you see, Reg? It's one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be so involved." he turned his anguished eyes to the road, his words flowing almost too fast for Regulus to understand. "I don't want to hear that you feel that way." his voice was low but urgent. His words cut Regulus, deeply. "It's wrong. It's not safe. I'm dangerous, Regulus— please, grasp that."

"No." Regulus tried very hard not to look like a sulky child.

"I'm serious," James growled.

"So am I. I told you, it doesn't matter what you are. It's too late."

His voice whipped out, low and harsh. "Never say that."

He bit his lip and was glad James couldn't know how much that hurt. Regulus stared out at the road. They must be close now. He was driving much too fast.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice still raw. Regulus just shook his head, not sure if he could speak.

He could feel James gaze on his face, but Regulus kept his eyes forward.

"Are you crying?" he sounded appalled. Regulus hadn't realised the moisture in his eyes had brimmed over. He quickly rubbed his hand across his cheek, and sure enough, traitor tears were there, betraying him.

"No," Regulus said, but his voice cracked.

Regulus saw James reach toward him hesitantly with his right hand, but then he stopped and placed it slowly back on the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry." his voice burned with regret. Regulus knew he wasn't just apologising for the words that had upset him.

The darkness slipped by them in silence.

"Tell me something," he asked after another minute, and Regulus could hear him struggle to use a lighter tone.

"Yes?"

"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I couldn't understand your expression— you didn't look that scared, you looked like you were concentrating very hard on something."

"I was trying to remember how to incapacitate an attacker— you know, self-defence. I was going to smash his nose into his brain." Regulus thought of the dark-haired man with a surge of hate.

"You were going to fight them?" this upset him. "Didn't you think about running?"

"I fall down a lot when I run," he admitted.

"What about screaming for help?"

"I was getting to that part."

He shook his head. "You were right— I'm definitely fighting fate trying to keep you alive."

Regulus sighed. They were slowing, passing into the boundaries of Forks. It had taken less than twenty minutes.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" he demanded.

"Yes— I have a paper due, too." James smiled. "I'll save you a seat at lunch."

It was silly, after everything they'd been through tonight, how that little promise sent flutters through his stomach, and made him unable to speak.

They were in front of Orion’ house. The lights were on, Regulus truck in its place, everything utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream. He stopped the car, but Regulus didn't move.

"Do you promise to be there tomorrow?"

"I promise."

He considered that for a moment, then nodded. Regulus pulled his jacket off, taking one last whiff.

"You can keep it— you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," James reminded him.

Regulus handed it back to him. "I don't want to have to explain to Orion."

"Oh, right." he grinned.

Regulus hesitated, his hand on the door handle, trying to prolong the moment.

"Reg?" he asked in a different tone— serious, but hesitant.

"Yes?" he turned back to James too eagerly.

"Will you promise me something?"

"Yes," Regulus said, and instantly regretted his unconditional agreement. What if James asked him to stay away from him? He couldn't keep that promise.

"Don't go into the woods alone."

Regulus stared at him in blank confusion. "Why?"

James frowned, and his eyes were tight as he stared past him out the window.

"I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there. Let's leave it at that."

Regulus shuddered slightly at the sudden bleakness in his voice, but he was relieved. This, at least, was an easy promise to honour. "Whatever you say."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he sighed, and Regulus knew James wanted him to leave now.

"Tomorrow, then." he opened the door unwillingly.

”Love?” Regulus turned and James was leaning toward his, his beautiful brown, glorious face just inches from his, alongside his golden glasses. His heart stopped beating.

"Sleep well," James said. His breath blew in his face, stunning Regulus. It was the same exquisite scent that clung to his jacket, but in a more concentrated form. He blinked, thoroughly dazed. James leaned away.

Regulus was unable to move until his brain had somewhat unscrambled itself. Then he stepped out of the car awkwardly, having to use the frame for support. He thought he heard James chuckle, but the sound was too quiet for him to be certain.

He waited till Regulus had stumbled to the front door, and then he heard James engine quietly rev. He turned to watch the silver car disappear around the corner. Regulus realised it was very cold.

Regulus reached for the key mechanically, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

Orion called from the living room. "Reg?"

"Yeah, Papa, it's me." he walked in to see him. He was watching a baseball game.

"You're home early."

"Am I?" Regulus was surprised.

"It's not even eight yet," he told him. "Did you guys have fun?"

"Yeah— it was lots of fun." Regulus head was spinning as he tried to remember all the way back to the night out they had planned. "They all found clothes to dress up."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm just tired. I did a lot of walking."

"Well, maybe you should go lie down." his father sounded concerned. Regulus wondered what his face looked like.

"I'm just going to call Pandora first."

"Weren't you just with her?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes— but I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure she brings it tomorrow."

"Well, give her a chance to get home first."

"Right," he agreed.

Regulus went to the kitchen and fell, exhausted, into a chair. He was really feeling dizzy now. He wondered if he was going to go into shock after all. Get a grip, Regulus told himself.

The phone rang suddenly, startling him. Regulus yanked it off the hook.

"Hello?" he asked breathlessly.

"Regulus?"

"Hey, Dora, I was just going to call you."

"You made it home?" her voice was relieved… and surprised.

"Yes. I left my jacket in your car— could you bring it to me tomorrow?"

"Sure. But tell me what happened!" she demanded.

"Um, tomorrow— in Trig, okay?"

She caught on quickly. "Oh, is your dad there?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow, then. Bye!" Regulus could hear the impatience in her voice.

"Bye, Dora."

Regulus walked up the stairs slowly, a heavy stupor clouding his mind. He went through the motions of getting ready for bed without paying any attention to what he was doing. It wasn't until he was in the shower— the water too hot, burning his skin— that Regulus realised he was freezing. He shuddered violently for several minutes before the steaming spray could finally relax his rigid muscles. Then he stood in the shower, too tired to move, until the hot water began to run out.

Regulus stumbled out, wrapping himself securely in a towel, trying to hold the heat from the water in so the aching shivers wouldn't return. He dressed for bed swiftly and climbed under his quilt, curling into a ball, hugging himself to keep warm. A few small shudders trembled through him.

His mind still swirled dizzily, full of images he couldn't understand, and some he fought to repress.

Nothing seemed clear at first, but as Regulus fell gradually closer to unconsciousness, a few certainties became evident.

About three things he was absolutely positive.

First, James was a vampire.

Second, there was part of him— and Regulus didn't know how potent that part might be— that thirsted for his blood.

And third, Regulus Black was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with James Potter.

It was an unexpected fall but one that Regulus knew he was never going to forget nor regret.

No matter the consequences.

Chapter Text

James’ POV

James was glad it hit the news before he had to leave for school, anxious to hear how the humans would phrase the account, and what amount of attention it would garner.

Luckily, it was a heavy news day. There was an earthquake in South America and a political kidnapping in the Middle East. So it ended up only earning a few seconds, a few sentences, and one grainy picture.

"Alonzo Calderas Wallace, suspected serial rapist and murderer wanted in the states of Texas and Oklahoma, was apprehended last night in Portland, Oregon thanks to an anonymous tip. Wallace was found unconscious in an alley early this morning, just a few yards from a police station. Officials are unable to tell us at this time whether he will be extradited to Houston or Oklahoma City to stand trial."

The picture was unclear, a mug shot, and he'd had a thick beard at the time of the photograph. Even if Regulus saw it, he would probably not recognise him. James hoped he wouldn't; it would make him afraid needlessly.

"The coverage here in town will be light. It's too far away to be considered of local interest," Sirius told James. "It was a good call to have Monty take him out of state."

He nodded. Regulus didn't watch much TV regardless, and James had never seen Regulus’ father watching anything besides sports channels.

James had done what he could. This monster no longer hunted, and he was not a murderer. Not recently, anyway.

He'd been right to trust his dad, as much as James still wished the monster had not gotten off quite so easily. James caught himself hoping he would be extradited to Texas, where the death penalty was so popular...

No. That didn't matter. James would put this behind him, and concentrate on what was most important.

He’d left Regulus’ room less than an hour ago. He was already aching to see him again. "Padfoot, do you mind—" he cut James off. "Mary will drive. She'll act pissed, but you know she'll enjoy the excuse to show off her car." Sirius trilled a laugh.

James grinned at him. "See you at school."

Pads sighed, and James’ grin became a grimace.

I know, I know, he thought. Not yet. I'll wait until you're ready for Regulus to know me. You should know, though, this isn't just me being selfish. Regulus’ going to like me, too.

James didn't answer him as he hurried out the door. That was a different way of viewing the situation. Would Regulus want to know Sirius? To have a vampire for a friend?

Knowing Regulus...that idea probably wouldn't bother him in the slightest.

James frowned to himself. What Regulus wanted and what was best for him were two very separate things.

He started to feel uneasy as he parked his car in Regulus’ driveway. The human adage said that things looked different in the morning— that things changed when you slept on them. Would he look different to Regulus in the weak light of a foggy day? More sinister or less sinister than James had in the blackness of night? Had the truth sunk in while he slept?

Would Regulus finally be afraid?

His dreams had been peaceful, though, last night. When he'd spoken James’ name, time and time again, he'd smiled. More than once he'd murmured a plea for him to stay.

Would that mean nothing today?

James waited nervously, listening to the sounds of him inside the house— the fast, stumbling footsteps on the stairs, the sharp rip of a foil wrapper, the contents of the refrigerator crashing against each other when the door slammed. It sounded like he was in a hurry. Anxious to get to school? The thought made James smile, hopeful again.

He looked at the clock. James supposed that— taking in account the velocity Regulus’ decrepit truck must limit his toshe was running a little late.

Regulus rushed out of the house, his book bag sliding off his shoulder, the curls on his hair coiled into a messy twist that was already coming apart on the nape of his neck. The thick black sweater he wore was not enough to keep his thin shoulders from hunching against the cold fog.

The long sweater was too big for him, unflattering. It masked Regulus’ slender figure, turning all his delicate curves and soft lines into a shapeless jumble. James appreciated this almost as much as he wished that Regulus had worn something more like the soft blue blouse he'd worn last night...the fabric had clung to his skin in such an appealing way, cut low enough to reveal the mesmerising way his collar bones curled away from the hollow beneath his throat. The blue had flowed like water along the subtle shape of his body...

It was better —mostly essential— that he kept his thoughts far, far away from that shape, so James was grateful to the unbecoming sweater Regulus wore. James couldn't afford to make mistakes, and it would be a monumental mistake to dwell on the strange hungers that thoughts of Regulus’ lips...his skin...his body...were shaking loose inside of him. Hungers that had evaded James for a hundred years. But he could not allow himself to think of touching Regulus, because that was impossible.

James would break him.

Regulus turned away from the door, in such a hurry that he nearly ran right by his car without noticing it. Then he skidded to a stop, his knees locking like a startled colt's. His bag slid further down his arm, and his beautiful eyes flew wide as they focused on the car.

James got out, taking no care to move at human speed, and opened the passenger door for him. He would not try to deceive him anymore— when they were alone, at least, James would be himself.

Regulus looked up at James, startled again as he seemingly materialised out of the fog. And then the surprise in his eyes changed to something else, and James was no longer afraid— or hopeful— that Regulus’ feelings for him had changed in the course of the night. Warmth, wonder, fascination, all swimming in the diamond silver of his eyes.

"Do you want to ride with me today?" James asked. Unlike dinner last night, he would let Regulus choose. From now on, it must always be his choice.

Always.

~

Regulus’ POV

"Do you want to ride with me today?" James asked, amused by Regulus’ expression as he caught him by surprise yet again. There was uncertainty in his voice. James was really giving him a choice — Regulus was free to refuse, and part of James hoped for that. It was a vain hope.

"Yes, thank you," Regulus said, trying to keep his voice calm. As he stepped into the warm car, he noticed James tan jacket was slung over the headrest of the passenger seat. The door closed behind him, and, sooner than should be possible, he was sitting next to Regulus, starting the car.

"I brought the jacket for you. I didn't want you to get sick or something." James voice was guarded. Regulus noticed that he wore no jacket himself, just a light grey knit V-neck shirt with long sleeves. Again, the fabric clung to his perfectly muscled chest. It was a colossal tribute to his face that it kept Regulus eyes away from his body.

"I'm not quite that delicate," he said, but he still pulled the jacket onto his lap, pushing his arms through the too-long sleeves, curious to see if the scent could possibly be as good as he remembered.

It was better.

"Aren't you?" he contradicted in a voice so low Regulus wasn't sure if he meant for him to hear.

They drove through the fog— shrouded streets, always too fast, feeling awkward. Regulus was, at least. Last night all the walls were down… almost all. He didn't know if they were still being as candid today. It left him tongue-tied. He waited for James to speak.

He turned to smirk at Regulus. "What, no twenty questions today?"

"Do my questions bother you?" Regulus asked, relieved.

"Not as much as your reactions do." James looked like he was joking, but he couldn't be sure.

Regulus frowned. "Do I react badly?"

"No, that's the problem. You take everything so coolly— it's unnatural. It makes me wonder what you're really thinking."

"I always tell you what I'm really thinking."

"You edit," he accused.

"Not very much."

"Enough to drive me insane."

"You don't want to hear it," Regulus mumbled, almost whispered. As soon as the words were out, he regretted them. The pain in his voice was very faint; Regulus could only hope he hadn't noticed it.

James didn't respond, and Regulus wondered if he had ruined the mood. His face was unreadable as they drove into the school parking lot. Something occurred to him belatedly.

"Where's the rest of your family?" Where’s Sirius? He asked— more than glad to be alone with him, but remembering that James car was usually full.

"They took Mary’ car." he shrugged as he parked next to a glossy red convertible with the top up.

"Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"Um, wow," Regulus breathed. "If she has that, why does she ride with you?"

"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."

"You don't succeed." Regulus smirked and shook his head as they got out of the car. He wasn't late anymore; James’ lunatic driving had gotten him to school in plenty of time. "So why did Mary drive today if it's more conspicuous?"

"Hadn't you noticed? I'm breaking all the rules now." he met Regulus at the front of the car, staying very close to his side as they walked onto campus. Regulus wanted to close that little distance, to reach out and touch him, but he was afraid James wouldn't like him to.

"Why do you have cars like that at all?" he wondered aloud. "If you're looking for privacy?"

"An indulgence," James admitted with an impish smile. "We all like to drive fast."

"Figures," Regulus muttered under his breath.

Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Dora was waiting, her eyes about to bug out of their sockets. Over her arm, bless her, was his jacket.

"Hey, Pandora," Regulus said when they were a few feet away. "Thanks for remembering." she handed him his jacket without speaking.

"Good morning, Pandora," James said politely. It wasn't really his fault that his voice was so irresistible.

Or what his eyes were capable of.

"Er… hi." she shifted her wide eyes to Regulus, trying to gather her jumbled thoughts. "I guess I'll see you in Trig." she gave him a meaningful look, and Regulus suppressed a sigh. What on earth was he going to tell her?

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

She walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at them.

"What are you going to tell her?" James murmured.

"Hey, I thought you couldn't read my mind!" Regulus hissed.

"I can't," he said, startled. Then understanding brightened his eyes. "However, I can read hers— she'll be waiting to ambush you in class."

He groaned as he pulled off James jacket and handed it to him, replacing it with his own. James folded it over his arm.

"So what are you going to tell her?"

"A little help?" Regulus pleaded. "What does she want to know?"

James shook his head, grinning wickedly. "That's not fair."

"No, you not sharing what you know — now that's not fair."

James deliberated for a moment as they walked. They stopped outside the door to his first class.

"She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know how you feel about me," he finally said.

"Christ. What should I say?" Regulus tried to keep his expression very innocent. People were passing them on their way to class, probably staring, but he was barely aware of them.

"Hmm." James paused to catch a stray lock of hair that was escaping the twist on his neck and wound it back into place. Regulus heart spluttered perceptively. "I suppose you could say yes to the first… if you don't mind — it's easier than any other explanation."

"I don't mind," Regulus said in a faint voice.

"And as for her other question… well, I'll be listening to hear the answer to that one myself." one side of his mouth pulled up into Regulus favourite crooked smile. He couldn't catch his breath soon enough to respond to that remark. Regulus was debating if he needed to say something else.

“You have patience with me,” James pointed out, as if it was a valid argument.

That’s because you’re different, he couldn’t help thinking.

“You’re different,” Regulus murmured, pulling away from the wall of his classroom.

“Did you say something?” James asked as if he couldn’t have heard him.

Regulus sighed and tried to make his way to into his classroom. He tilted his head up, eyes following the angles of the board. When he lowered his sights again, James was now standing right there with him.

Regulus decided then that he didn’t want to be cowardly anymore. He wanted to touch only because the desire was there.

“I said you’re different,” Regulus revealed before he could let his anxieties win, “And when I left your car yesterday, I couldn’t help thinking that I wanted keep you with me all day if you let me. I meant everything.”

And James looked down. The man that never backed away, the man that held his gaze no matter how hot it burnt, the man that knew what he was doing, looked away first. Again.

Regulus feared he’d said something horribly misguided. Something sick. Something that should have been left unsaid.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to James. Regret buried itself deep, reaching down his throat to tightly grasp his heart.

“Don’t be. Please, don’t be sorry,” James pleaded, and now Regulus was just confused.

He let out a heavy sigh, taking a few steps away. James was now behind him again in the empty classroom. He didn’t know if James was looking down still, but Regulus was now looking up again.

“James, do you like me?” he asked as he closed his eyes, as if it could protect him.

“In what way?” he heard James ask back.

Regulus shrugged. “In any way.”

“I like you in a few ways, none of them good.”

“I beg to differ. Tell me in what ways,” Regulus eyes were still closed as he softly demanded.

“I shouldn’t say them out loud.”

“Why not? I’d like to hear.”

“Because then it’d all be real.”

“Better real than fake,” Regulus said with a slight bitterness on his tongue. “Trust me, I’d know.”

“I know you know. My family knows too, that’s why I shouldn’t say it. That’s why we shouldn’t do this.” and Regulus understood. In an instant, with not nearly enough elaboration, he understood what was holding James back.

“You think they’d be upset.”

“Some of them are protective of you, did you know that?” Regulus didn’t.

Did that mean Sirius knew who he was? But then, why didn’t he come to talk to him? Why had he been lying about being dead for the past years? All these thoughts were jumbled on Regulus’ head.

“They have a funny way of showing it.”

“Maybe they do, but if we did this, I know they’d could get hurt, and it’s just— it’s the principle of it, Regulus. You know how this would look.” James stated with the utmost certainty, enough certainty that it sounded like he’s been told it as a fact.

Regulus opened his eyes and hesitated to face James again, but he did. As much as he didn’t want to, he had to face the consequences of his poorly executed actions. He turned around, and golden met green.

“What if they never knew? You said you were the only who could read minds, no?” Regulus asked. It was a dangerous game, that he knew, no one would win, but he had already made a fool of himself. He might as well be forward.

“That’s a tightrope I’d rather not walk.”

“Afraid of falling, or afraid of reaching the other side?” James’ choice mattered.

“Both.”

“Both,” Regulus repeated within a murmur.

He thought about it for a moment, what he wanted. What James wanted. There was clear middle ground they could take where they both get what they needed, leaving what they wanted out of it.

Regulus spoke his next words clearer, but with less conviction, “It wouldn’t have to mean anything.”

James’ brow twitched, and his composure broke down for a fleeting moment. Regulus was barely astute enough to pick up on the pain written across his features. Regulus knew he could hurt people but he never knew his words could cause that to James.

“If it wouldn’t mean anything, then I wouldn’t bother,” James told him clearly and with conviction. He meant it.

You already won’t bother, Regulus couldn’t help thinking but something he would never say. Even that was too harsh for James.

Regulus’s vision flickered down and back up again. “How virtuous of you,” he sarcastically commended, although a small part of him appreciated it. Better too many morals than not enough.

“Meaning would be the only thing that’d make it worth it,” James said, and followed the honesty with an attempt at a joke. A joke Regulus didn’t have the right heart to find funny. It felt more like a scolding, than anything. “Meaning is what makes the world go ‘round. Without it, where would we be?”

“Most say it’s money that keeps the world spinning, but if you prefer meaning, then you can find it in me. I’ll give it to you, if that’s what it takes. If you want it. Would you want it?” Regulus asked, and there was an answer he was vying for. Any other words would be a knife right through the heart.

A smile died before it lived. “You know what I want.”

“Do I?” Regulus gambled a step closer. “You’re not making it obvious.”

“Before now, neither did you,” James countered with a step of his own.

“I came to some realisations,” Regulus argued, casting his eyes downwards. They found James’ hand.

So Regulus did just that. He reached out and took James’ hand into his, merely holding it as if it could break from his gentle touch. It was innocent. Regulus had never held innocence in his hands. All his hands knew was grief, sadness, regret, amongst others. A lovely mix that left him bloodied, a fucked-up mix that had made him wish he were dead.

This wasn’t that.

Regulus wanted to trust this, but he couldn’t. He needed to see more of it to learn to be comfortable with it, let alone trust it.

He lifted his head to find James’ face. James started to move his free hand, and it hovered halfway raised before falling back at his side. The pain had returned to his eyes, and Regulus wasn’t sure of how to make it go away. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to go away. It was the only thing about this that made any sense to him.

“Is this okay?” James asked him. He cursed James and his stupid virtue within the confines of his mind.

“This is okay,” Regulus promised with a small nod. His nod barely noticeable, but of course, James noticed.

“You do know that I want this, right? I need you to know that if things were different, I would.” the worst thing was that James was sincerely telling the truth. He had been nothing but honest, and that made the rejection sting so much more.

“I know.” Regulus nodded again, hands still intertwined between them. Clinging. Lingering. Taking what little he could get. “I wish we were idiots.”

“Even though I may not act like it, I usually am, but you’re smart.” James lowly laughed. The sound was clearly forced, and Regulus didn’t get why until James let go of his hand. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

That’s not the compliment you think it is, Regulus held back on saying.

Regulus desperately wished to be an idiot, to not think before doing, to act without taking anyone or anything else into consideration. If he were an idiot, he could have this. Whatever this was or could be.

Regulus cleared his throat of the unsaid words. “You should go.”

“Changing the subject?”

“You changed it first, but it’s fine. This is fine. We were going in circles anyway. It was meaningless, and I know how you feel about that,” Regulus unfairly remarked, and he hated that. He hated that embarrassment brought out his cruelty, and that James didn’t have that problem.

"I'll see you at lunch," James called over his shoulder. Four people walking in the door stopped to stare at him.

Regulus hurried into class, flushed and irritated. Potter was such a cheater. Now he was even more worried about what he was going to say to Pandora. He sat in his usual seat, slamming his bag down in aggravation.

"Morning, Regulus," Emmeline said from the seat next to him. Regulus looked up to see an odd, almost resigned look on her face. "How was Port Angeles?"

"It was…" there was no honest way to sum it up. "Great," he finished lamely. "Dora got a really cute dress."

"Did she say anything about Monday night?" she asked, her eyes brightening. Regulus smiled at the turn the conversation had taken.

"She said she had a really good time," he assured her.

"She did?" she said eagerly.

"Most definitely."

Mr. Slughorn called the class to order then, asking them to turn in their papers. English and then Government passed in a blur, while Regulus worried about how to explain things to Pandora and agonised over whether Potter would really be listening to what he said through the medium of Dora’ thoughts. How very inconvenient his little talent could be— when it wasn't saving his life.

The fog had almost dissolved by the end of the second hour, but the day was still dark with low, oppressing clouds. Regulus smiled up at the sky.

Potter was right, of course. When he walked into Trig, Pandora was sitting in the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat in agitation. He reluctantly went to sit by her, trying to convince himself it would be better to get it over with as soon as possible.

"Tell me everything!" she commanded before he was in the seat.

"What do you want to know?" Regulus hedged.

"What happened last night?"

"He bought me dinner, and then he drove me home."

She glared at him, her expression stiff with scepticism. "How did you get home so fast?"

"He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying." he hoped Potter heard that.

"Was it like a date— did you tell him to meet you there?"

Regulus hadn't thought of that. "No— I was very surprised to see him there."

Her lips puckered in disappointment at the transparent honesty in his voice.

"But he picked you up for school today?" she probed.

"Yes— that was a surprise, too. He noticed I didn't have a jacket last night," he explained.

"So are you going out again?"

"He offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because he thinks toy truck isn't up to it— does that count?"

"Yes." she nodded.

"Well, then, yes."

"W-o-w." she exaggerated the word into three syllables. "James Potter."

"I know," Regulus agreed. ‘Wow’ didn't even cover it.

"Wait!" her hands flew up, palms toward him like she was stopping traffic. "Has he kissed you?"

"No," he mumbled. "It's not like that."

She looked disappointed. Regulus was sure he did, too.

"Do you think Saturday… ?" she raised her eyebrows.

"I really doubt it." the discontent in his voice was poorly disguised.

"What did you talk about?" she pushed for more information in a whisper. Class had started but Mr. Binns wasn't paying close attention and they weren't the only ones still talking.

"I don't know, Dora, lots of stuff," he whispered back. "We talked about the English essay a little." a very, very little. Regulus thinks he mentioned it in passing.

"Please, Regulus," she begged. "Give me some details."

"Well… okay, I've got one. You should have seen the waitress flirting with him— it was over the top. But he didn't pay any attention to her at all." let Potter make what he could of that.

"That's a good sign," she nodded. "Was she pretty?"

"Quite— and probably nineteen or twenty."

"Even better. He must like you."

"I think so, but it's hard to tell. He's always so cryptic," Regulus threw in for his benefit, sighing.

"I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him," she breathed.

"Why?" he was shocked, but she didn't understand his reaction.

"He's so… intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to him." she made a face, probably remembering this morning or last night, when he'd turned the overwhelming force of his eyes on her.

"I do have some trouble with incoherency when I'm around him," he admitted.

"Oh well. He is unbelievably gorgeous." Pandora shrugged as if this excused any flaws. Which it probably did.

"There's a lot more to him than that."

"Really? Like what?"

Regulus wished he had let it go. Almost as much as he was hoping Potter had been kidding about listening in.

"I can't explain it right… but he's even more unbelievable behind the face." the vampire who wanted to be good— who ran around saving people's lives so he wouldn't be a monster… he stared toward the front of the room.

"Is that possible?" she giggled.

Regulus ignored her, trying to look like he was paying attention to Mr. Binns.

"So you like him, then?" she wasn't about to give up.

"Yes," he said curtly.

"I mean, do you really like him?" she urged.

"Yes," he said again, blushing. He really hoped that detail wouldn't register in her thoughts.

She'd had enough with the single syllable answers. "How much do you like him?"

"Too much," Regulus whispered back. "More than he likes me. But I don't see how I can help that." he sighed, one blush blending into the next.

Then, thankfully, Mr. Binns called on her for an answer.

She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, and as soon as the bell rang, he took evasive action.

"In English, Emmeline asked me if you said anything about Monday night," he told her.

"You're kidding! What did you say?!" she gasped, completely sidetracked.

"I told her you said you had a lot of fun — she looked pleased."

"Tell me exactly what she said, and your exact answer!"

They spent the rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of Spanish on a minute description of Emmeline' facial expressions. Regulus wouldn't have helped draw it out for as long as he did if he wasn't worried about the subject returning to him.

And then the bell rang for lunch. As he jumped up out of his seat, shoving his books roughly in his bag, his uplifted expression must have tipped Pandora off.

"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" she guessed.

"I don't think so." Regulus couldn't be sure that he wouldn't disappear inconveniently again. But outside the door to their Spanish class, leaning against the wall — looking more like a Greek god than anyone had a right to — Potter was waiting for him. Dora took one look, rolled her eyes, and departed.

"See you later, Regulus." her voice was thick with implications. He might have to turn off the ringer on the phone.

"Hello." Potter’ voice was amused and irritated at the same time. He had been listening, it was obvious.

"Hi."

Regulus couldn't think of anything else to say, and Potter didn't speak — biding his time, Regulus presumed — so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. Walking with Potter through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like his first day here; everyone stared.

He led the way into the line, still not speaking, though his eyes returned to Regulus’ face every few seconds, their expression speculative. It seemed to Regulus that irritation was winning out over amusement as the dominant emotion in his face. He fidgeted nervously with the zipper on his jacket.

Potter stepped up to the counter and filled a tray with food.

"What are you doing?" Regulus objected. "You're not getting all that for me?"

He shook his head, stepping forward to buy the food.

"Half is for me, of course."

Regulus raised one eyebrow.

He led the way to the same place they'd sat that one time before. From the other end of the long table, a group of seniors gazed at them in amazement as they sat across from each other. Potter seemed oblivious.

"Take whatever you want," he said, pushing the tray toward him.

"I'm curious," Regulus said as he picked up an apple, turning it around in his hands, "What would you do if someone dared you to eat food?"

"You're always curious." Potter grimaced, shaking his head. He glared at Regulus, holding his eyes as he lifted the slice of pizza off the tray, and deliberately bit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. Regulus watched, eyes wide.

"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?" he asked condescendingly.

Regulus wrinkled his nose. "I did once… on a dare," he admitted. "It wasn't so bad."

Potter laughed. "I suppose I'm not surprised." something over his shoulder seemed to catch Potter’ attention.

"Pandora’ analysing everything I do — she'll break it down for you later." he pushed the rest of the pizza toward him. The mention of Pandora brought a hint of his former irritation back to his features.

Regulus put down the apple and took a bite of the pizza, looking away, knowing he was about to start.

"So the waitress was pretty, was she?" he asked casually.

"You really didn't notice?"

"No. I wasn't paying attention. I had a lot on my mind."

"Poor girl." Regulus could afford to be generous now.

"Something you said to Pandora… well, it bothers me." Potter refused to be distracted. His voice was husky, and he glanced up from under his lashes with troubled eyes. "I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You know what they say about eavesdropper," Regulus reminded him.

"I warned you I would be listening."

"And I warned you that you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."

"You did," he agreed, but his voice was still rough. "You aren't precisely right, though. I do want to know what you're thinking — everything. I just wish… that you wouldn't be thinking some things."

Regulus scowled. "That's quite a distinction."

"But that's not really the point at the moment."

"Then what is?" they were inclined toward each other across the table now. He had his large brown hands folded under his chin; Regulus leaned forward, his right hand cupped around his neck. He had to remind himself that they were in a crowded lunch room, with probably many curious eyes on them. It was too easy to get wrapped up in their own private, tense little bubble.

"Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?" he murmured, leaning closer to Regulus as he spoke, his dark golden eyes piercing.

Regulus tried to remember how to exhale. He had to look away before it came back to him.

"You're doing it again," he muttered.

Potter’ eyes opened wide with surprise. "What?"

"Dazzling me," Regulus admitted, trying to concentrate as he looked back at him.

"Oh." he frowned.

"It's not your fault," Regulus sighed. "You can't help it."

"Are you going to answer the question?"

He looked down. "Yes."

"Yes, you are going to answer, or yes, you really think that?" Potter was irritated again.

"Yes, I really think that." Regulus kept his eyes down on the table, his eyes tracing the pattern of the faux wood grains printed on the laminate. The silence dragged on. He stubbornly refused to be the first to break it this time, fighting hard against the temptation to peek at Potter’ expression.

Finally he spoke, voice velvet soft. "You're wrong."

Regulus glanced up to see that his eyes were gentle.

"You can't know that," Regulus disagreed in a whisper. He shook his head in doubt, though his heart throbbed at his words and he wanted so badly to believe them.

"What makes you think so?" his liquid topaz eyes were penetrating — trying futilely, Regulus assumed, to lift the truth straight from his mind.

Regulus stared back, struggling to think clearly in spite of his face, to find some way to explain. As Regulus searched for the words, he could see Potter getting impatient; frustrated by his silence, he started to scowl. Regulus lifted his hand from his neck, and held up one finger.

"Let me think," he insisted. Potter’ expression cleared, now that he was satisfied that Regulus was planning to answer.

Regulus dropped his hand to the table, moving his left hand so that his palms were pressed together. Regulus stared at his hands, twisting and untwisting his fingers, as he finally spoke.

"Well, aside from the obvious, sometimes…" he hesitated. "I can't be sure — I don't know how to read minds — but sometimes it seems like you're trying to say goodbye when you're saying something else."

That was the best Regulus could sum up the sensation of anguish that Potter words triggered in him at times. "Perceptive," he whispered. And there was the anguish again, surfacing as he confirmed Regulus’ fear. "That's exactly why you're wrong, though," he began to explain, but then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'the obvious'?"

"Well, look at me," Regulus said, unnecessarily as Potter was already staring. "I'm absolutely ordinary — well, except for bad things like all the near-death experiences and being so clumsy that I'm almost disabled. And look at you." he waved his hand toward Potter and all his bewildering perfection.

His brow creased angrily for a moment, then smoothed as his eyes took on a knowing look. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know. I'll admit you're dead-on about the bad things," he chuckled blackly, "But you didn't hear what every human population in this school was thinking on your first day."

Regulus blinked, astonished. "I don't believe it…" he mumbled to himself.

"Trust me just this once — you are the opposite of ordinary."

His embarrassment was much stronger than his pleasure at the look that came into Potter eyes when he said this. Regulus quickly reminded him of his original argument.

"But I'm not saying goodbye," he pointed out.

"Don't you see? That's what proves me right. I care the most, because if I can do it" — he shook his head, seeming to struggle with the thought — "If leaving is the right thing to do, then I'll hurt myself to keep from hurting you, to keep you safe."

Regulus downrightly glared. "And you don't think I would do the same?"

"You'd never have to make the choice."

Abruptly, Potter unpredictable mood shifted again; a mischievous, devastating smile rearranged his features.

"Of course, keeping you safe is beginning to feel like a full-time occupation that requires my constant presence."

"No one has tried to do away with me today," Regulus reminded him, grateful for the lighter subject. He didn't want Potter to talk about goodbyes anymore. If Regulus had to, he supposed he could purposefully put himself in danger to keep him close… he banished that thought before Potter quick eyes read it on his face. That idea would definitely get Regulus in trouble.

"Yet," he added.

"Yet," Regulus agreed; he would have argued, but now he wanted him to be expecting disasters.

"I have another question for you." Potter face was still casual.

"Shoot."

"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of saying no to all your admirers?"

Regulus made a face at the memory. "You know, I haven't forgiven you for the Peter thing yet," he warned him.

"It's your fault that he's deluded himself into thinking I'm going to prom with him."

"Oh, he would have found a chance to ask you without me — I just really wanted to watch your face," he chuckled, Regulus would have been angrier if his laughter wasn't so fascinating. "If I'd asked you, would you have turned me down?" he asked, still laughing to himself.

"Probably not," Regulus admitted. "But I would have cancelled later — faked an illness or a sprained ankle."

Potter was puzzled. "Why would you do that?"

Regulus shook his head sadly. "You've never seen me in Gym, I guess, but I would have thought you would understand."

"Are you referring to the fact that you can't walk across a flat, stable surface without finding something to trip over?"

"Obviously."

"That wouldn't be a problem." Potter was very confident. "It's all in the leading." he could see that Regulus was about to protest, and Potter cut him off. "But you never told me — are you resolved on going to Seattle, or do you mind if we do something different?"

As long as the "we" part was in, Regulus didn't really care about anything else.

"I'm open to alternatives," Regulus allowed. "But I do have a favour to ask."

Potter looked wary, as he always did when Regulus asked an open-ended question. "What?"

"Can I drive?"

He frowned. "Why?"

"Well, mostly because when I told Orion I was going to Seattle, he specifically asked if I was going alone and, at the time, I was. If he asked again, I probably wouldn't lie, but I don't think he will ask again, and leaving my truck at home would just bring up the subject unnecessarily. And also, because your driving seriously frightens me."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you worry about my driving."

He shook his head in disgust, but then his eyes were serious again. "Won't you want to tell your father that you're spending the day with me?" there was an undercurrent to his question that Regulus didn't understand.

"With my father, less is always more." Regulus was definite about that. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye… and you can stay with me, if you'd like to." again, Potter was leaving the choice up to him.

"And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?" he asked, excited by the idea of unravelling another of the unknowns.

"Yes." Potter smiled, and then paused. "But if you don't want to be… alone with me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of the trouble you could find in a city that size."

Regulus was miffed. "Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle — just in population. In physical size —"

"But apparently," he interrupted Regulus, "Your number wasn't up in Phoenix. So I'd rather you stayed near me." his eyes did that unfair smouldering thing again.

Regulus couldn't argue, with the eyes or the motivation, and it was a moot point anyway. "As it happens, I don't mind being alone with you."

"I know," he sighed, brooding. "You should tell Orion, though."

"Why in the world would I do that?"

His eyes were suddenly fierce. "To give me some small incentive to bring you back."

Regulus gulped. But, after a moment of thought, he was sure. "I think I'll take my chances."

He exhaled angrily, and looked away.

"Let's talk about something else," Regulus suggested.

"What do you want to talk about?" Potter asked. He was still annoyed. Great.

Regulus glanced around them, making sure they were well out of anyone's hearing. As he cast his eyes around the room, he caught the eyes of Potter’ brother, Sirius, staring at him. The others were looking at Potter. Regulus looked away swiftly, back to Potter, and him. But his mind was stuck on Sirius, the same Sirius that couldn’t be his deceased older brother. The Sirius present in the same lunch room as him was Potter’ brother, adopted but still Potter’ brother.

But you need to remember that he’s a vampire, right? Regulus mind traitorously whispered to him.

His heart started beating faster. Plus, Sirius wouldn’t recognise him if…

“Reg, are you alright?”

Brought back to the present, Regulus took a deep breath and responded, “Yeah, sorry about that, Potter.”

“Potter?”

Regulus narrowed his eyes. “Yes, you’re going to be Potter to me until I decide to forgive you for this morning.” he said, completely ignoring the somewhat cute pout on his… friend’s face.

“But—” Regulus’ glare was enough to shut Potter up for now. So, Regulus then asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend… to hunt? My father said it wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."

It was better he forgot about Sirius for now. His dear brother was dead and no matter how much Potter’ brother looked like him, he could never be his Sirius.

Potter stared at Regulus as if he was missing something very obvious.

"Bears?" Regulus gasped, and Potter smirked. "You know, bears are not in season," he added sternly, to hide his shock.

"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons," he informed Regulus.

Potter watched his face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.

"Bears?" Regulus repeated with difficulty.

"Grizzly is Remus’ favourite." Potter voice was still offhand, but his eyes were scrutinizing his reaction. Regulus tried to pull himself together.

"Hmm," he said, taking another bite of pizza as an excuse to look down. Regulus chewed slowly, and then took a long drink of Coke without looking up.

"So," he said after a moment, finally meeting Potter now-anxious gaze. "What's your favourite?"

He raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned down in disapproval. "Mountain lion."

"Ah," Regulus said in a politely disinterested tone, looking for his soda again.

"Of course," he said, and his tone mirrored Regulus’, "We have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators — ranging as far away as we need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but where's the fun in that?"

He smiled teasingly.

"Where indeed," Regulus murmured around another bite of pizza.

"Early spring is Remus’ favourite bear season — they're just coming out of hibernation, so they're more irritable." Potter smiled at some remembered joke.

"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," he agreed, nodding.

Potter snickered, shaking his head. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."

"I'm trying to picture it — but I can't," Regulus admitted. "How do you hunt a bear without weapons?"

"Oh, we have weapons." he flashed his bright teeth in a brief, threatening smile. Regulus fought back a shiver before it could expose him. "Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you've ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Remus hunting."

Regulus couldn't stop the next shiver that flashed down his spine. He peeked across the cafeteria toward Lupin, grateful that he wasn't looking his way. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped his arms and torso were somehow even more menacing now.

Potter followed his gaze and chuckled. Regulus stared at him, unnerved.

"Are you like a bear, too?" he asked in a low voice.

"More like the lion, or so they tell me," he said lightly. "Perhaps our preferences are indicative."

Regulus tried to smile. "Perhaps," he repeated. But his mind was filled with opposing images that he couldn't merge together. "Is that something I might get to see?"

"Absolutely not!" his face turned paler, and his eyes were suddenly furious. Regulus leaned back, stunned and — though he'd never admit it to him — frightened by his reaction. Potter leaned back as well, folding his arms across his chest.

"Too scary for me?" Regulus asked when he could control his voice again.

"If that were it, I would take you out tonight," he said, his voice cutting. "You need a healthy dose of fear. Nothing could be more beneficial for you."

"Then why?" Regulus pressed, trying to ignore his angry expression.

Potter glared at him for a long minute.

"Later," he finally said. He was on his feet in one little movement. "We're going to be late."

Regulus glanced around, startled to see that he was right and the cafeteria was nearly vacant. When Regulus was with Potter, the time and the place were such a muddled blur that he completely lost track of both. He jumped up, grabbing his bag from the back of his chair.

"Later, then," Regulus agreed. He wouldn't forget.

Chapter Text

Normalcy had ceased to exist in his life. At least, that was Regulus’s takeaway. How could he possibly act as if everything was normal when his entire belief system had been derailed? Vampires were real. The Potters and its members were vampires; immortal beings that traversed the earth, feasting on human beings. That is until they decided upon their ‘vegetarian’ diet.

~

Everyone watched them as they walked together to their lab table. Regulus noticed that Potter no longer angled the chair to sit as far from him as the desk would allow. Instead, he sat quite close beside Regulus, their arms almost touching.

Mr. Kettleburn backed into the room then - what superb timing the man had - pulling a tall metal frame on wheels that held a heavy-looking, outdated TV and VCR. A film day  - the lift in the class atmosphere was almost tangible.

Mr. Kettleburn shoved the tape into the reluctant VCR and walked to the wall to turn off the lights.

And then, as the room went black, Regulus was suddenly hyper aware that Potter was sitting less than an inch from him. Regulus was stunned by the unexpected electricity that flowed through him, amazed that it was possible to be more aware of Potter than he already was. A crazy impulse to reach over and touch him 一 to stroke his perfect face just once in the darkness, nearly overwhelmed Regulus. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest, his hands balling into fists. Regulus was losing his mind.

The opening credits began, lighting the room by a token amount. Regulus’ eyes, of their own accord, flickered to him. He smiled sheepishly as he realised Potter’s posture was identical to his, fists clenched under his arms, right down to the eyes, peering sideways at Regulus. Potter grinned back, his eyes somehow managing to smoulder, even in the dark. Regulus looked away before he could start hyperventilating. It was absolutely ridiculous that he should feel dizzy.

The hour seemed very long. Regulus couldn't concentrate on the film -  he didn't even know what subject it was on. Regulus tried unsuccessfully to relax, but the electric current that seemed to be originating from somewhere in Potter’ body never slackened. Occasionally Regulus would permit himself a quick glance in his direction, but Potter never seemed to relax, either. The overpowering craving to touch him also refused to fade, and Regulus crushed his fists safely against his ribs until his fingers were aching with the effort.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Kettleburn flicked the lights back on at the end of class, and stretched his arms out in front of him, flexing his stiff fingers. Regulus could perfectly hear Potter’ chuckle beside him.

That was certainly a nice sound to hear.

"Well, that was interesting," he murmured. His voice was dark and his eyes were cautious.

"Umm," was all Regulus was able to respond to.

"Shall we?" Potter asked, rising fluidly. Some type of amusement lingering on his tone.

“I can’t stand you,” Regulus huffed; deflecting.

“Oh, that wasn’t what you were saying yesterday?” Potter’ grin turned into something dangerous and dazzling with the flash of his teeth and mirth in his topaz eyes, when Regulus’ mouth fell open with a soft exhale.

He almost groaned. Time for Gym. Regulus stood with care, worried his balance might have been affected by the strange new intensity between them.

He walked Regulus to his next class in silence and paused at the door; Regulus turned to say goodbye but Potter’s face startled him - his expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to touch him flared as strong as before. Regulus’ goodbye stuck in his throat.

Potter raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of Regulus' sharp cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on his skin was alarmingly warm - like Regulus had been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.

Jam— Potter turned without a word and strode quickly away from him.

Regulus walked into the gym, light-headed and wobbly. He drifted to the locker room, changing in a trance like state, only vaguely aware that there were other people surrounding him. Reality didn't fully set in until he was handed a racket. It wasn't heavy, yet it felt very unsafe in his hand. Regulus could see a few of the other kids in class eyeing him furtively. Coach Rowena ordered them to pair up into teams.

Mercifully, some vestiges of Emmeline’s kindness still survived; she came to stand beside him.

"Do you want to be a team?"

"Thanks, Emmeline - you don't have to do this, you know." He grimaced apologetically.

"Don't worry, I'll keep out of your way." She grinned. It was so easy to like Emmeline.

It didn't go smoothly. Regulus somehow managed to hit himself in the head with his racket and clip Emmeline’s shoulder on the same swing. He spent the rest of the hour in the back corner of the court, the racket held safely behind his back. Despite being handicapped by Regulus, Emmeline was pretty good; she won three games out of four single-handedly. She gave him an unearned high five when the coach finally blew the whistle ending class.

"So," she said as they walked off the court.

"So what?"

"You and Potter, huh?" she asked, her tone rebellious. Regulus’ previous feeling of affection disappeared.

"That's none of your business, Emmeline," he warned, internally cursing Pandora straight to the fiery pits of Hades.

"I don't like it," she muttered anyway.

"You don't have to," he snapped.

"He looks at you like... like you're something to eat," she continued, ignoring Regulus.

He choked back the hysteria that threatened to explode, but a small giggle managed to get out despite his efforts. She glowered at him. Regulus waved and fled to the locker room.

He dressed quickly, something stronger than butterflies battering recklessly against the walls of his stomach, Regulus' argument with Emmeline already a distant memory. He was wondering if J— Potter would be waiting, or if Regulus should meet him at his car. What if his family was there? Would Sirius be there too? Regulus felt a wave of real terror. Did they know that he knew? Was Regulus even supposed to know that they knew that he knew, or not?

Regulus was sprinting through the library on his way to the school parking lot, when he suddenly bumped into something, or better said, someone. “Does that hurt?” Regulus asked him. In front of him was Remus Lupin with his hand held out towards him.

Regulus had just accidentally pricked his finger with a drawing pin— it didn’t appear to puncture his skin though. Consequently, Regulus was becoming increasingly interested with the inner workings of the vampire physique and its capabilities. And Remus -whatever his middle name was- Lupin had quickly become Regulus’ test subject.

“No,” Lupin answered, watching carefully as Regulus inspected his tan hand.

With every experiment, Regulus noticed that Lupin, in a funny way, grew more comfortable around him. Maybe this was the vampire way of familiarising themselves with people? While others would ask personal questions like ‘what’s your favourite colour?’. Regulus instead pulled out a stethoscope and listened for if Lupin had a heartbeat.

Regulus was a person with his priorities set out.

“So you don’t have blood, instead your veins are filled with venom that has the ability to transform humans into vampires. But you don’t have a heartbeat to spread said venom around your body, so how—” Regulus chewed his lip as he jotted down his findings in his notebook. “—then again, blood circulation is essential for the purpose of supplying the body’s vital organs with enough oxygen and nutrients needed to operate. You’re technically dead, there wouldn’t be any need for your organs to function. Still, that wouldn’t explain why you have the necessity to drink blood. Where does the blood go? Does your body absorb it? Maybe it has something to do with your venom? Or perhaps—”

“You’re taking this fairly well,” Lupin spoke, his accent slipping through, it was quite distinguishable. Welsh? “Better than I would have expected.”

Personal experience? Regulus wanted to ask but instead said, “… Does it seem that way?” he asked, his voice extremely low, barely a whisper. “I’m trying. I’m trying to accept Potter and what he is— what all of you are. But I can’t without any doubt, inquire… I can’t do that. Does that make me strange, abnormal?”

“It makes you different and trust me, nothing is wrong with being different. It makes you, you .” Lupin assured.

Regulus blinked, slowly looking up at Lupin to see that he was already staring at him. Regulus held their peaceful eye contact for a few moments, some sort of mutual understanding coursing between them— something opening and flooding the room. He looked away a few moments after, dropping Lupin’ hand. Regulus couldn’t remember the last time he felt as if someone could even comprehend the tiniest bit of himself.

Regulus and Sirius had always been different.

Something, however, told him that Lupin got it— whatever it was.

It felt… nice.

Regulus picked up his notebook and pencil, and leaned against the bookcase. “How does the thirst for blood work?” he knew a bit from what Potter told him already but some additional information wouldn’t hurt. Regulus had his eyes on his notes but could feel that Lupin was still staring at him, assessing him. “Does the intensity disappear upon consumption? Or is it a constant feeling that just fades? Could you, say, survive on a single drop or is there a certain amount you have to intake to feel satisfied? If virtually nothing kills you, would you die if you were incapable of drinking blood?”

Lupin paused, taking a moment to try and answer all of his questions adequately. “My apologies if I can’t answer all your questions,” he began softly. “Thirsting for blood isn’t quite the same as feeling hunger, though rather similar. I’d say it is more like discomfort and pain perhaps? Once the feeling is satisfied, the thirst does go away for about two weeks before gradually returning— we can’t die of starvation, but we get physically weaker as the thirst intensifies. The more intense the thirst, the more insane we become.”

Regulus was writing down everything he said.

“Potter said that animal blood was not as good as human blood. So why still drink it, despite the obvious reason?” Regulus asked.

“Yes, well, human blood is far more” —he stiffened— “appetising. Even though when drinking animal blood we receive the same… nutrition, it doesn’t quench the thirst as well as human food.”

Regulus nodded, taking note that Lupin had stopped moving again ( he seemed to do that a lot), he looked like a perfectly made sculpture.

“And you have an innate characteristic to desire human blood specifically? Potter said that for some of you the transition was rather difficult.”

Lupin was quiet for a long while but Regulus was patient, there was no need to rush anything.

“He was probably talking about me. In our family, I’m the newest to our special diet.”

“When did you become a ‘vegetarian’?”

“1932, shortly after Lily found me and brought us to the Potters.”

Regulus nodded again. 1932 seemed like quite some time to get used to animal blood unless, of course, he’d spent more time devouring humans.

“When did you become a vampire?”

“1885.”

A hundred and fifteen years? Regulus’ eyes widened a little bit. Lupin had been a vampire for over a century but had only been a vegetarian for sixty-eight years. His struggle with his new lifestyle was understandable. Regulus grew more curious but wasn’t sure what questions to ask first or what was appropriate to ask, so he hesitated. The sharpened granite of his pencil hovered just above the page.

“If controlling your thirst is so difficult, then why did Potter approach me that day— most days?” Regulus asked calmly. “But he also took some days off after he met me because he almost killed me. Am I not appetising any more? If so, should I take offence to that or be grateful, Lupin?” The smile he received from Lupin hid information that Regulus was sure he was not going to be told any time soon.

“I don’t think you’re asking the right person,” Lupin’ expression changed slightly, he appeared happier for some reason. “So, I must sadly cut our time short, Regulus but it was a pleasure to meet you.” Lupin nodded as he walked past Regulus and out of the library, leaving Regulus mostly confused at the rapid turn of events.

“The pleasure was mine, Lupin.”

“Remus. You can call me Remus.”

“Goodbye Lupin.” The last thing that Regulus saw was Remus' crooked smile on his face as his amber eyes fell on the figure of his partner. That Sirius. 

So that’s why, huh?

Regulus did not bother staying further in the library.

~

By the time Regulus walked out of the library, he had just about decided to walk straight home without even looking toward the parking lot. But his worries were unnecessary. Potter was waiting, leaning casually against the side of the library, his breathtaking face untroubled now. As Regulus walked to his side, he felt a peculiar sense of release.

"Hi," he breathed, smiling slightly.

"Hello." His answering smile was brilliant. "How was Gym?"

Regulus' face fell a tiny bit. "Fine," he lied.

"Really?" Potter was unconvinced. His eyes shifted their focus slightly, looking over Regulus’ shoulder and narrowing. Regulus glanced behind him to see Remus and Sirius' back as they walked away.

"What?" Regulus demanded.

His eyes slid back to Regulus’s, still tight. "Nothing, just Sirius getting on my nerves."

"You weren't listening again?" Sarcasm. Regulus was horror-struck. All traces of his sudden good humour vanished. 

"How's your head?" Potter asked innocently.

"You're unbelievable!" he turned, stomping away in the general direction of the parking lot, though Regulus hadn't ruled out walking at this point.

Potter kept up with him easily.

"You were the one who mentioned how I'd never seen you in Gym — it made me curious." He didn't sound repentant, so Regulus ignored him.

They walked in silence — a furious, embarrassed silence on Regulus’ part — to his car. But Regulus had to stop a few steps away — a crowd of people, all boys, were surrounding it.

Then he realised they weren't surrounding the Volvo, they were actually circling around Mary’s red convertible, unmistakable lust in their eyes. None of them even looked up as Potter slid between them to open his door. Regulus climbed quickly in the passenger side, also unnoticed.

"Ostentatious," he muttered.

"What kind of car is that?" Regulus asked.

"An M3."

"I don't speak Car and Driver."

"It's a BMW." Potter rolled his eyes, not looking at him, trying to back out without running over the car enthusiasts.

He nodded — he'd heard of that one.

"Are you still angry?" Potter asked as he carefully manoeuvred his way out.

"Definitely."

He sighed. "Will you forgive me if I apologise?"

"Maybe… if you mean it. And if you promise not to do it again," Regulus insisted.

His eyes were suddenly shrewd. "How about if I mean it, and I agree to let you drive Saturday?" he countered Regulus’ conditions.

I was going to be driving anyway, he thought to himself. Regulus considered, and decided it was probably the best offer he would get. "Deal," he agreed.

"Then I'm very sorry I upset you." His eyes burned with sincerity for a protracted moment — playing havoc with the rhythm of Regulus' heart — and then turned playful. "And I'll be on your doorstep bright and early Saturday morning."

"Um, it doesn't help with the Orion situation if an unexplained Volvo is left in the driveway."

His smile was condescending now. "I wasn't intending to bring a car."

"How —"

He cut Regulus off. "Don't worry about it. I'll be there, no car."

He let it go. Regulus had a more pressing question.

"Is it later yet?" he asked significantly.

Potter frowned. "I supposed it is later."

Regulus kept his expression polite as he waited.

Potter stopped the car. Regulus looked up, surprised — of course they were already at Orion’s house, parked behind the truck. It was easier to ride with him if Regulus only looked when it was over. When he looked back at Potter, he was staring at him, measuring with his eyes.

"And you still want to know why you can't see me hunt?" He seemed solemn, but Regulus thought he saw a trace of humour deep in his eyes.

What’s so funny about this?

"Well," Regulus clarified, "I was mostly wondering about your reaction."

"Did I frighten you?" Yes, Regulus lips slightly curled up. There was definitely humour there.

"No," he lied. Potter didn't buy it.

"I apologise for scaring you," he persisted with a slight smile, but then all evidence of teasing disappeared.

"It was just the very thought of you being there… while we hunted." His jaw tightened.

"That would be bad?"

Potter spoke from between clenched teeth. "Extremely."

"Because… ?"

He took a deep breath and stared through the windshield at the thick, rolling clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach.

"When we hunt," he spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our senses… govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way…"

He shook his head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.

Regulus kept his expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of Potter’ eyes to judge his reaction that soon followed. His face gave nothing away.

But their eyes held, and the silence deepened — and changed. Flickers of the electricity he'd felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as Potter gazed unrelentingly into his eyes. It wasn't until Regulus' head started to swim that he realised he wasn't breathing. When Regulus drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stillness, Potter closed his eyes.

"Regulus, I think you should go inside now." His low voice was rough, his eyes on the clouds again.

He opened the door, and the Arctic draft that burst into the car helped clear his head. Afraid he might stumble in his woozy state, Regulus stepped carefully out of the car and shut the door behind him without looking back. The whir of the automatic window unrolling made him turn.

"Oh, Regulus?" he called after him, his voice more even. He leaned toward the open window with a faint smile on his lips.

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow it's my turn."

"Your turn to what?"

He smiled wider, flashing his gleaming teeth. "Ask the questions."

And then he was gone, the car speeding down the street and disappearing around the corner before Regulus could even collect his thoughts.

Did that mean he heard his conversation with Remus?

Shaking his head, he smiled as he walked to the house. It was clear Potter was planning to see him tomorrow, if nothing else.

That night Potter starred in his dreams, as usual. However, the climate of his unconsciousness had changed. It thrilled with the same electricity that had charged the afternoon, and Regulus tossed and turned restlessly, waking often. It was only in the early hours of the morning that he finally sank into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

When Regulus woke he was still tired, but edgy as well. He pulled on his emerald green turtle-neck and some baggy jeans, sighing as he daydreamed of t-shirts and shorts. Breakfast was the usual, quiet event Regulus expected. Orion fried eggs for himself; Regulus had his bowl of cereal. He wondered if his father had forgotten about this Saturday. Orion answered his unspoken question as he stood up to take his plate to the sink.

"About this Saturday…" he began, walking across the kitchen and turning on the facet.

Regulus cringed. "Yes, Father?"

"Are you still set on going to Seattle?" he asked.

"That was the plan." Regulus grimaced, wishing his father hadn't brought it up so he wouldn't have to compose careful half-truths.

Orion squeezed some dish soap onto his plate and swirled it around with the brush. "And you're sure you can't make it back in time for the dance?"

"I'm not going to the dance, Papa." Regulus glared.

"Didn't anyone ask you?" he asked, trying to hide his concern by focusing on rinsing the plate.

Regulus sidestepped the minefield. "It's my choice."

"Oh." Orion frowned as he dried his plate.

Regulus sympathised with him. It must be a hard thing, to be a father; living in fear that your son would meet a person he liked, but also having to worry if he didn't. How ghastly it would be, Regulus thought, shuddering, if his father had even the slightest inkling of exactly what Regulus did like.

Bloody vampires.

Orion left then, with a goodbye wave, and Regulus went upstairs to brush his teeth and gather his books.

When Regulus heard the cruiser pull away, he could only wait a few seconds before he had to peek out of his window. The silver car was already there, waiting in Orion’s spot on the driveway. Regulus bounded down the stairs and out the front door, wondering how long this bizarre routine would continue. Regulus never wanted it to end.

Potter waited in the car, not appearing to watch as Regulus shut the door behind him without bothering to lock the dead-bolt. Regulus walked to the car, pausing shyly before opening the door and stepping in. Potter was smiling, relaxed — and, as usual, perfect and beautiful to an excruciating degree.

"Good morning." His voice was silky. "How are you today?" His eyes roamed over Regulus’ face, as if his question was something more than simple courtesy.

"Good, thank you." Regulus was always good — much more than good — when he was near him.

His gaze lingered on the circles under his eyes. "You look tired."

"I couldn't sleep," Regulus confessed, automatically swinging his curls around his forehead to provide some measure of cover.

"Neither could I," he teased as he started the engine. Regulus was becoming used to the quiet purr. He was sure the roar of his truck would scare him, whenever Regulus got to drive it again.

Regulus laughed. "I guess that's right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you did."

"I'd wager you did."

"So what did you do last night?" he asked.

Potter chuckled. "Not a chance. It's my day to ask questions."

"Oh, that's right. What do you want to know?" Regulus forehead creased. He couldn't imagine anything about him that could be in any way interesting to him.

"What's your favourite colour?" he asked, his face grave.

Regulus rolled his eyes. It was definitely not a vampire thing. "It changes from day to day."

"What's your favourite colour today?" He was still solemn.

"Probably green— emerald." Regulus tended to dress according to his mood.

Potter snorted, dropping his serious expression. "Green? Emerald green?" he asked sceptically.

"Sure. Emerald green is warm. I miss green. Everything here — tree trunks, rocks, dirt — is all covered up with squashy green stuff here," Regulus praised.

Potter seemed fascinated by his little rant. He considered for a moment, staring into Regulus' eyes.

"You're right," he decided, serious again. "Emerald green is warm." He reached over, swiftly, but somehow still hesitantly, to sweep the hair back behind Regulus' ear.

They were at the school by now. Potter turned back to him as he pulled into a parking space.

"What music is in your CD player right now?" he asked, his face as sombre as if he'd asked for a murder confession.

Regulus realised he'd never removed the CD Phil had given him. When he said the name of the band, Potter smiled crookedly, a peculiar expression in his eyes. He flipped open a compartment under his car's CD player, pulled out one of thirty or so CDs that were jammed into the small space, and handed it to Regulus,

"Debussy to this?" He raised an eyebrow.

It was the same CD. Regulus examined the familiar cover art, keeping his eyes down.

It continued like that for the rest of the day. While Potter walked him to English, when he met him after Spanish, all through the lunch hour, he questioned Regulus relentlessly about every insignificant detail of his existence. Films he'd liked and hated, the few places he'd been and the many places he wanted to go, and books — endlessly books. Regulus loved books— maybe more than anything.

Regulus couldn't remember the last time he'd talked so much. More often than not, he felt self-conscious, certain he must be boring him. But the absolute absorption of Potter’s face, and his never-ending stream of questions, compelled Regulus to continue. Mostly his questions were easy, only a very few triggering Regulus’ easy blushes. But when Regulus did flush, it brought on a whole new round of questions.

Such as the time Potter asked his favourite gemstone, and Regulus blurted out brown sapphire before thinking. He'd been flinging questions at Regulus with such speed that he felt like he was taking one of those psychiatric tests where you answer with the first word that comes to mind. Regulus was sure Potter would have continued down whatever mental list he was following, except for the blush. Regulus' face reddened because, until very recently, his favourite gemstone was emerald. It was impossible, while staring back into his topaz brown eyes, not to remember the reason for the switch. And, naturally, Potter wouldn't rest until Regulus had admitted why he was embarrassed.

"Tell me," he finally commanded after persuasion failed - failed only because Regulus kept his eyes safely away from his face.

"It's the colour of your eyes today," Regulus sighed, surrendering, staring down at his hands as he fiddled with a curl of his hair. "I suppose if you asked me in two weeks I'd say onyx." He'd given more information than necessary in Regulus’ unwilling honesty, and he worried it would provoke the strange anger that flared whenever he slipped and revealed too clearly how obsessed he was.

But Potter’s pause was very short.

"What kinds of flowers do you prefer?" he fired off.

Regulus sighed in relief, and continued with the psychoanalysis.

Biology was a complication again. Potter had continued with his quizzing up until Mr. Kettleburn entered the room, dragging the audiovisual frame again. As the teacher approached the light switch, Regulus noticed Potter slide his chair slightly farther away from his. It didn't help. As soon as the room was dark, there was the same electric spark, the same restless craving to stretch his hand across the short space and touch his cold skin, as yesterday.

Regulus leaned forward on the table, resting his chin on his folded arms, his hidden fingers gripping the table's edge as he fought to ignore the irrational longing that unsettled him. Regulus didn't look at him, afraid that if he was looking at him, it would only make self-control that much harder. Regulus sincerely tried to watch the film, but at the end of the hour he had no idea what he'd just seen. He sighed in relief again when Mr. Kettleburn turned the lights on, finally glancing at Potter; he was looking at him, his eyes ambivalent.

He rose in silence and then stood still, waiting for Regulus. They walked toward the gym in silence, like yesterday. And, also like yesterday, he touched Regulus’ face wordlessly - this time with the back of his cool hand, stroking once from his temple to his jaw - before he turned and walked away.

Regulus didn't really understand what was passing through Potter’s mind during these moments.

Gym passed quickly as he watched Emmeline's one-woman badminton show. She didn't speak to him today, either in response to his vacant expression or because she was still angry about their squabble yesterday. Somewhere, in a corner of his mind, Regulus felt bad about that. But he couldn't concentrate on her.

He hurried to change afterwards, ill at ease, knowing the faster he moved, the sooner he would be with Potter. The pressure made him more clumsy than usual, but eventually Regulus made it out the door, feeling the same release when he saw him standing there, a wide smile automatically spreading across his face. Potter smiled in reaction before launching into more cross-examination.

His questions were different now, though, not as easily answered. He wanted to know what Regulus missed about home, insisting on descriptions of anything he wasn't familiar with. They sat in front of Orion's house for hours, as the sky darkened and rain plummeted around them in a sudden deluge.