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Regulus Black has been described with many different words by many different people over the years. Cold, perhaps, at least to the general populace of Hogwarts. Sharp; something he picked up from his mother, though he wishes he hadn’t. If he asked Barty, he would likely call Regulus a whiny bitch, at least until Dorcas smacked him upside the head with a disapproving glare. Before she, too, conceded that Regulus was occasionally a whiny bitch. Pandora would describe him as lovely, and he would roll his eyes and return her soft smile and call her lovely back, because she is his other half, and he loves her like he loves soft rain and sunsets, like something entirely irreplaceable. He is many things to many people, but never fragile, or small. No one has ever seen him that vulnerable. No one, that is, except for James.
James, who is bright and beautiful and warm. James, who loves Regulus like it’s second nature, like it’s as easy as breathing. Who makes him feel so safe that being seen, being known, isn’t quite as mind-numbingly terrifying as it would be with anyone else.
James, who is sleeping next to him.
Waking up next to James is always warm and soft, encased in a cocoon of safety and comfort. Being this close to James, skin pressed against skin, is borderline intoxicating. He curls closer to James, his mind pleasantly foggy as he shakes off the clinging cobwebs of sleep. Half-sprawled over James’s chest, his head pillowed on the softness of his shoulder, Regulus soaks in the contact as he emerges into wakefulness.
He shifts slightly to prop himself up on an elbow, tracing his gaze over the silhouette of the boy spread out beside him. Normally crackling with energy, it’s almost surreal to see James so relaxed. He looks so soft when he’s asleep, his chest gently rising and falling with each breath. Regulus’s eyes catch on tiny details, and he feels an almost feral satisfaction that he is seeing things about James that no one else gets to see. The divots in the bridge of his nose where his glasses usually rest. The tiny freckles dusting the brown skin over the bridge of his nose. The crinkles beside his eyes where smile lines are already beginning to form at seventeen.
Beautiful, Regulus thinks. He keeps staring, cataloguing every flicker of muscle as James stirs beneath him. James groans slightly, his eyes fluttering open, and Regulus is briefly struck speechless as James blinks slowly, a smile tugging at his mouth as he sees Regulus looking. James gazes right back at him, probably noting the flush gracing his cheeks, as well as his no-doubt horrendously messy curls. Regulus ducks his head into James’s chest, feeling the flush travel over his body in a ripple of pleasant heat. He always feels so warm when he’s with James. He feels deft fingers sliding into his curls, scratching gently at his scalp, and Regulus melts further into James, savouring the delicious sensation of closeness. He feels the arm that had been loosely draped around his waist tighten, trying to pull him closer. God, Regulus wishes he could be closer. Sometimes he wants to crawl under James’s skin and curl up behind his ribcage. He knows he would be safe there, and warm. So warm.
“Good morning, love,” in James’s rough just-woken-up voice makes Regulus smile softly. He loves feeling the vibration of James speaking in his chest. Regulus presses a gentle kiss to James’s neck in response, murmuring a quiet morning into his skin. “Sleep alright?”
“Slept fine, mon amour. You worry too much.” Regulus’s words are muffled as he presses his face into the hinge of James’s throat. He feels his curls shift slightly as James huffs, tightening his hold on Regulus’s waist.
“I’d say I worry just enough, considering the state you showed up in last night,” James mumbles into the curls behind Regulus’s ear. The warmth of James’s breath momentarily distracts Regulus from his words, but once they register, he stiffens slightly. The hand stroking through his hair pauses briefly, telling Regulus that his discomfort has been noticed, but resumes almost instantly.
He had been hoping that James wouldn't bring up last night, so he could pretend it had never happened. Regulus Black was a stranger to anything close to vulnerability; there was no way in hell he would be caught dead cuddling his boyfriend because he was sad. Yet somehow, that is precisely what James is referencing.
He had caught up to James after dinner the night before, pulling him into an empty classroom just off the Great Hall. Regulus had pressed him against the closed door and melted into his chest, ignoring his boyfriend’s concerned mumbles as James’s arms settled around him. In truth, Regulus had spent the entire day feeling cold and sick and heavy, as if gravity was holding a grudge against him in particular. He had woken up that morning feeling uncomfortably aware of his body; of the parts that felt so foreign that looking into a mirror sometimes felt like staring at a complete stranger. The disconnect that usually protected him from the reality of his body had been absent, and as a result, Regulus had really, really just wanted a hug from someone who he knew saw him as entirely himself.
James hadn’t pressured him to talk last night. He seems to have a sixth sense for when Regulus isn't able to articulate his thoughts through speech, and never forces him when he’s overwhelmed. That alone would have made Regulus seek him out, but James is also just. So warm. Being wrapped in his arms, surrounded by the scent of cardamom that follows him everywhere, always manages to chase away the cold that permeates Regulus’s bones when he’s alone.
James had smuggled Regulus through the Gryffindor common room with the help of his invisibility cloak, and they had spent the rest of the evening curled together in James’s bed. James had waved off his dorm-mates’ concern, only taking a few moments for a whispered conversation with Sirius before climbing back into bed, pulling the heavy drapes shut behind him. Regulus had drifted off to the sound of James softly reading aloud from a muggle book he had nicked from Remus, and had remained blissfully asleep throughout the night, not once troubled by nightmares. James hadn’t required an explanation from him last night, but Regulus knows he won’t be able to slip away without a conversation now.
“It’s alright, love,” comes James’s gentle voice. A warm hand slips under Regulus’s oversized shirt, which he stole from Sirius a year ago. The muggle band on it, Queen, is one of Sirius’s favourites, and as much as Regulus hates to admit it, there is something comforting about the constant reminder of his sibling.
James’s hand runs up his spine soothingly, and Regulus sighs. The thing is, as much as he complains, he knows that talking about his feelings really will help. James tells him that, Sirius tells him that, Pandora tells him, everyone bloody tells him to talk, you’ll feel better, and it pisses him off that they’re right. He groans softly as he pulls away from James’s neck, settling his head on his shoulder and meeting gentle brown eyes.
A small smile flickers around James’s lips as he looks at Regulus, smoothing messy curls back from his face. He presses a small kiss to Regulus’s forehead, and embers crackle under his skin in response.
“There you are,” James whispers against his skin. Regulus flushes at the words, but doesn’t try to hide, instead running a hand up the side of James’s neck, cupping his jaw. James presses into the contact, pulling away from his forehead and nudging Regulus’s nose with his own. “Talk to me, love,” he murmurs. And relaxed, away from prying eyes and surrounded by the warmth that James exudes like the sun gives off light, Regulus talks.
“I just… I just needed you.” Regulus exhales, running a thumb over James’s cheekbone. “Yesterday was a lot, and I was all in my head, and I just needed to feel safe. With you.”
“You know you’ll always be safe with me,” James murmurs back, eyes open and soft. “And I love that I can be that space for you. Is there any particular reason you wanted it, though? Any way I can help?”
Merlin, this boy. Regulus is so gone on him, he didn’t have a chance, really. James loves so deeply, so genuinely, and has never faltered in loving Regulus. He has always been fascinated by the way James loves people, and feeling that unconditional care directed at him never fails to melt any walls he attempts to build.
“Was a lot of little things. Mostly gender nonsense.” A bitter smile flickers over Regulus’s face. “Y’know how it gets, for me.” James’s eyes soften in understanding, and the hand in Regulus’s hair slips away to press against the hand still pressed to his jaw. James twines their fingers together, pulling their hands up to kiss Regulus’s fingers, then letting them settle against his chest. The tenderness in the gesture brings a lump to Regulus’s throat, but he swallows it back determinedly, focusing on the feeling of James’s callused fingers against his.
“I know, mera dil. I know.” James smiles sadly, squeezing Regulus’s hand. He presses a gentle kiss against Regulus’s lips, and Regulus can feel himself falling, falling, falling, even as James keeps murmuring against his skin. “I know, I’m sorry. I wish I could keep you safe from this, too, my beautiful boy.” At this, the tears that Regulus had been willing back begin to overflow, salt now mingling with kisses as James holds him tighter.
Regulus cries for a span of time that could be seconds or hours. All he knows is that James stays with him, kissing away his tears, murmuring sweet words and running his fingers along the groove of Regulus’s spine. Nothing about his body changes, and Regulus aches with the reality of it, but James still stays. He stays, and kisses away every last tear, and Regulus loves him.
Regulus hates the aftermath of crying. His eyes burn, and his nose runs, and isn’t this precisely why he avoids the whole ‘feelings’ thing? He supposes he can deal with it, though, as long as James keeps holding him. Regulus could deal with a whole host of disasters as long as he has James to hold him at the end of it all.
“Thank you,” he whispers into James’s chest. He can feel his tears drying on James’s skin, and James’s fingers tracing patterns between his shoulder blades. At Regulus’s words, James presses a kiss to the crown of his head.
“You don’t have to thank me, Reg, you know that,” James murmurs. Regulus nods, because he does know, but James isn’t finished. “You’re my safe person, you know that too, don’t you? You always help me slow down when I’m overthinking. I’m here, and I know you’re here, when I need you.” Another kiss brushes against Regulus’s temple, and Regulus presses an answering one to James’s collarbone.
No more words are spoken; none are needed. He holds James, and James holds him back, and all is right within their small, blissful universe.