Archive of Our Own ^beta

Drowning is a strange thing.

It is not the violent struggle he once imagined. It is quiet. Heavy. A weight pressing in from all sides, wrapping around him like a second skin. The cold is the first thing to go, replaced by a numbness that seeps into his bones. His lungs burn, but it is distant, almost an afterthought. The world tilts and twists, light fracturing above him like shards of glass.

 It's not as scary as he thought it would be. 

Drowning. 

Dying.

He does not know exactly how he got into this situation, but he knows where it began.

Where it started.

With the sea.

The sea and cottages and a place that lay familiar in his childhood memories of the summer.

The town hadn’t changed.

Regulus had.

The same salt-stained cottages lined the cliffs, their shutters rattling in the wind. The same narrow streets twisted toward the shore, where the sea stretched out, endless and grey. But standing here now, looking down at it from the old bridge, Regulus felt like a ghost.

He used to come here as a child, back when his family still pretended they were whole. His mother hated the sea—too wild, too uncontrollable—but his father liked to stand on the cliffs and say that the Black family was like the tides: powerful, inevitable and eternal. It was a lie. Regulus had learned that young. Nothing was eternal. Not family, not love. Not even the sea.

And yet.

The ocean kept calling him back.

Regulus had always been fond of the beach.

He liked the way the sand felt between his toes, rough and warm, clinging to his skin in a way that reminded him that he was alive. He liked the way the tide would kiss his ankles, pulling, pulling, pulling—as if the sea itself wanted him.

Sirius had hated it. Complained the whole time. The sand was too hot, the waves too cold, the wind too loud. But even as he grumbled, Regulus knew—Sirius liked it here more than he liked being home. At least here, they were away from the empty, haunted halls of Grimmauld Place. No family portraits with watchful, disappointed eyes. No whispers of legacy, duty or obedience.

Here, their mother was softer, too. Less cruel. Less sharp.

She had come here as a child as well.

Regulus wonders if that’s why.

If she, too, had once found solace in the sea.

If she, too, had returned to this place as an adult, desperate to remember something simpler.

He wonders if she would still come here every summer if she were alive.

Regulus has always been fond of the beach.

But if there’s one thing he isn’t fond of, it’s water.

Sure, he liked the tide. Liked the way it teased him, pulling at his ankles, daring him to step forward. But he had no interest in entering. No interest in following the lull, the beck and call. That was one thing that hadn’t changed.

Regulus Black had not intended on drowning.

He’d been on the edge of the bridge when he slipped and fell.

Regulus had never thought himself to be a clumsy person. But when it happened, he found that he wasn’t exactly dissatisfied with it either.

He was content here, in the arms of the waves, and he wonders why he’d never thought to try this before. It’s not like he was living a life. He was alone. His family—dead or gone. Those who had left had moved on to better things, surely married and happy by now. Maybe some even had children.

Narcissa had always been fond of them. She’d even had names picked out. Draco for a boy, Adhara for a girl.

Regulus had no family, no love, no direction. He was jobless and living off inheritance. He was friendless.

The sea had been more than friendly.

Even if this was taking a lot longer than he would have hoped.

Regulus briefly wonders why he's been condemned to such a slow death. He supposes there was that one time he tripped Sirius down the stairs, but honestly, he’d deserved it for reading Regulus’s diary first.

He wonders if the same diary still lies in the cottage somewhere.

The thought makes him smile. Or it would, if he could. But even now, even here, he keeps his mouth closed.

Human instinct, he thinks.

Trying to keep the sea out, even when he’s content to let it take him. To let it have its wish, finally, after all these years.

What a miserable life, he thinks.

The sea wasn’t miserable.

It was a beautiful, silent thing.

Until Regulus starts to hear the voice.

The voices.

He wonders if this is part of the process.

Hearing things.

"James, stop it."

One voice.

"But he’ll drown, Remus."

Two voices.

"Let him."

Three voices.

"He looks pretty happy to drown, maybe it’s for the best."

Final voice.

He feels something come closer. His vision is blurred, but the tide shifts, the pull of the current changing, allowing something— someone —to move toward him. He feels the touch of skin.

Warm. In the cold.

Regulus tries to blink, to settle his vision.

He had also never thought himself to be crazy, but he must be, considering what he’s seeing.

Golden-brown skin. Naked but glimmering. Shiny in a way that doesn’t seem quite human. Dark hair that flows, weightless in the water. And golden, golden eyes—so bright, so consuming, Regulus feels he could drown in them.

He feels himself still, though he knows that isn’t possible.

This is a very naked man.

In very cold water.

And Regulus can feel his body.

It’s warm.

He looks down.

And yeah, it’s official—Regulus is crazy. Or he’s already dead.

Because wow.

It’s beautiful, but it’s a fucking tail.

Golden scales shimmer beneath the water, catching the dim light in a way that almost seems unreal. The occasional red scale gleams like a ruby, scattered like constellations along the length of it. Pearls have been clipped onto the fins, delicate and deliberate, their soft iridescence only adding to the absurdity of it all. The tail sways casually, effortlessly, as if it belongs here. As if this is normal.

Stunning isn’t a strong enough word.

Regulus was raised to speak multiple languages, trained in eloquence and precision, but his tongue cannot land on a single word to describe the sheer beauty of him.

He wonders if it’s normal to have a random man in your face before death.

But he isn’t complaining.

He is still very shocked, though, as you can imagine.

The beautiful boy— no, creature —makes a huffing sound, his golden eyes flicking over Regulus’s face with something like exasperation. But it doesn’t seem aimed at him.

"You're okay."

Regulus barely has time to process the words before a hand traces over his face, gentle, warm even in the freezing water.

His breath catches—no, he gasps —and suddenly, he’s choking, saltwater rushing into his mouth, his lungs burning with it.

The man—creature— whatever he is —shakes his head quickly and presses a hand over Regulus’s mouth.

He frowns, scolding. “Stop that. You’ll drown.”

Regulus thinks, bitterly, That was sort of the point.

Then everything goes black.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The first thing Regulus tastes when he wakes up is sand and the lingering sea.

Not dead then.

Maybe for the best. Maybe not. Regulus doesn’t have the energy to care at this particular moment.

The first thing he smells is sea salt. That familiar, biting scent, comforting and suffocating all at once.

The first thing he feels is skin. Hands, warm and firm, squeezing his face, running fingers through his damp hair, poking and prodding at him like some kind of experiment.

They trace his lips, and if he were more than half awake, he might bite whoever thinks they can touch him like this. He wants to snap, to push them away, but his body is too heavy, too sluggish.

The first thing he hears when he wakes up is:

"Aren’t you supposed to give it like CPR?"

He recognises the voice.

"Let him." That’s what they had said. 

A male voice. Sort of meek and squeaky sounding.

Clearly, they hadn’t listened to him, seeing as he’s alive— and not drowned.

"What’s that?"

A curious voice. A woman. Maybe even a girl.

"Like you blow air into it." The squeaky voice says.

And then he hears the sound of someone puffing air as if giving a demonstration.

"Like where though?" The girl sounds as if she likes the new information, like it intrigues her.

"Through the lips. Lily told me about it."

"I’ll do it." An eager voice.

Regulus hears shifting. The same person who’d been tracing him leans down over him. He can feel it but not see it. His eyes are still closed, heavy as lead.

"Why do you think he’s not shiny?" Regulus can feel the breath fall on his lips when the person speaks.

"He’s human. They’re miserable, and it shows on the outside." The other voice says dryly, but Regulus thinks it’s a joke.

Aren’t we all human? He’d say if he could speak. Though, he supposes, there’d been a time when he thought he wasn’t human. Can you really call yourself that if you’re not even sure you’re living? If you go through your days on autopilot, waiting for your time to come to an end?

"Do you think he’s dead?" The voice sounds sad. The same one that’s holding onto him.

"It’d be better for us if he was. He saw us, James."

James. Yeah, he remembers that name.

"James, stop it."

He remembers now. He remembers scales. Beauty. Skin. Pearls.

A plain name for an extraordinary thing.

If he didn’t hallucinate the tail part that is.

James leans over him. And gently, he feels the press of his lips against his. It’s soothing. He tastes like sea salt and honey—like the sea after a storm, rich with the scent of the ocean’s deep secrets, but tempered with something sweet, something light. Regulus can feel the coolness of James’s skin brushing against his, his breath warm, mixing with his own. The salt lingers, but there’s something else too—like the hint of sugar on the breeze, something he might have never expected from the ocean’s depths, but somehow here, it makes sense. The taste is almost intoxicating, a pull he can’t name, a strange connection between the warmth of the kiss and the coolness of the water still clinging to his skin.

For a moment, everything feels steady. He forgets where he is. The edges of reality blur as the kiss draws him in, an unexpected comfort. It’s like sinking into a warm tide, a place of safety he hadn’t known he was looking for. The ocean, once threatening, becomes a lullaby in this strange, tender moment. The soft press of James’s lips against his is steady, calming. It’s the kind of warmth he’s never known, a kind of peace he thought had been long lost to him.

But then, the world shifts.

“You aren’t supposed to kiss him, James, you’re supposed to blow, blow, yeah, like that but harder, like whooshhh, in out, in out, whoosh. There you go.” The squeaky voice interrupts the fragile moment.

Regulus tenses. The air he’s been breathing is suddenly too much. The kiss is no longer soothing—it’s abruptly replaced with a desperate, aggressive pressure. He feels the air pushing into him, too forceful, too frantic. His stomach contracts with the uncomfortable press of breath, and he gasps.

He doesn’t need this.

He barely even took in water—he’d passed out from lack of air, not from being submerged. The confusion and the flood of breath don’t make sense to him.

“It doesn’t look very comfortable.”

“Shut up, Remus. He’s trying his best. We should’ve left it to die, and you’re worried about it's comfort?” 

The squeaky voice.

“Well, I agree that we should’ve let it die, Pete. Don’t look at me. Look at James and Pandora. They’re the reason it’s not dead.”

The words sink into Regulus’s foggy consciousness, fragments of voices and unfamiliar names floating through his mind. They’re like puzzle pieces scattered across the edges of his thoughts—people he doesn’t know, things that don’t make sense in the haze of his mind. It’s all so distant, like someone else’s reality, not his own.

Regulus struggles, but slowly, carefully, he manages to pry his eyes open. The world swims into view, blurry and disoriented, before focusing on a familiar face.

The first thing that he sees is him.

James.

Just as beautiful as he had been under the water, maybe more so now. His hair, darker than the deep ocean, curls around his face like seaweed caressing the shore. His eyes, a vivid golden hue, burn with intensity, the kind of gaze that feels almost otherworldly—like they see straight through Regulus, into the very core of him. His skin is sun-kissed, smooth and glowing like polished bronze, glimmering in the light with an almost ethereal quality. It’s the kind of beauty that makes you forget how to breathe.

“Wow,” Regulus mutters, still dazed, his voice thick.

James leans into his face, impossibly close, his presence overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. There’s no concept of personal space here. His breath dances across Regulus’s lips, warm and familiar, and his smirk is the kind that could break a heart without even trying.

“You’re awake,” James says, his voice low and amused, the smirk never leaving his lips. He shifts away then, turning his attention to someone else. “He’s alive, guys.”

“We got that,” comes the dry voice of the one Regulus assumes is Remus.

He blinks, trying to focus. Remus is peculiar-looking, but not ugly. His features are sharp, defined, his face a little more angular, his skin less polished than James’s but still striking in its own way. It’s thicker, more human, less ethereal. His teeth, though, they’re sharp, almost animalistic, and they catch the light in a way that feels unsettling. But what catches Regulus’s eye most are the scars. They run down Remus’s face, jagged and raw-looking, as though they’ve been there for a long time—traces of battles fought, struggles endured. They tell a story. Regulus wonders if he’s even real, or if he’s still caught in some twisted dream.

He turns back to James and looks down.

“You had a fucking tail,” Regulus says, almost disbelieving. It’s gone now.

He laughs. The sound is light, unburdened, like something from a dream. Regulus wonders if he really is just crazy, caught in a fevered hallucination, but then James nods, as if to confirm the impossibility.

“Yeah, I had a tail,” James says casually.

He wiggles his feet where the tail had been, grinning at Regulus’s stunned expression, as though he finds it amusing. He laughs and it's like a siren’s song, pulling Regulus deeper into a reality he’s not sure he can trust.

Is he a siren?

Regulus’s thoughts flicker back to his childhood, to his mother’s stories, her soft voice filling the room with tales of mythical creatures. She used to tell him stories about sirens when they were young, back when she pretended to be a mother. Back when she’d tuck him into bed, pressing a kiss to his forehead, her hands soft and warm. When she’d pinch his cheeks and look at him with something like hope in her eyes, like she thought he might turn into something extraordinary.

Before they started to disappoint her.

Before they began to fail the expectations placed on them, the same expectations Regulus could never outrun.

He hadn’t liked sirens back then. He never would admit it to Sirius for the fear of appearing girly, but Regulus had always preferred fairies. Fairies flew. Fairies were free. They weren’t chained to the earth like he was, not when his mother was alive, and not now when he was shackled by the ghosts of her and his father.

Regulus blinks, pushing aside the tangled web of memories. “Are fairies real, then?”

James wrinkles his nose, clearly puzzled. “What’s a fairy? Is that a human thing?”

It’s cute.

Regulus swats him away, and if he wasn’t so cold, he’s sure his cheeks would flush. James backs off slowly, a teasing smirk still playing on his lips. Regulus shakes his head, the confusion swirling in his mind like fog. “No, they’re like people, but with wings. They fly in the sky.”

James shrugs, clearly indifferent. “Well, how should I know? We live in the sea.” It should sound dismissive, but there’s a genuine curiosity in his voice.

Before Regulus can respond, Remus interrupts, his voice sharp. “You shouldn’t have done this, James. What would your mother say?” He starts pacing, but the movement is shaky, like he’s not quite used to walking on land. He doesn’t move like James, smooth and fluid. Remus feels heavy on the ground, as if his body is still trying to adjust to a world that’s not made of water.

James doesn’t seem at all worried. “My mum won’t find out,” he says, the smirk never leaving his face. “Unless you tell, and you’re not a snitch, right, Remus?”

Remus rolls his eyes, his frustration evident. “I swear, if anyone finds out, I wasn’t involved.” He grabs Peter’s arm, pulling him close. “And neither was Peter. Stop dragging him into stuff like this.”

Peter looks up, surprisingly cheerful. “I am more than happy to be here,” he says, and Remus glares at him with an intensity that’s almost comical.

“You weren’t an hour ago,” Remus snaps.

“Can you blame me? It was the initial panic,” Peter mutters, trying to avoid Remus’s gaze.

“Effie will have our heads for this,” Remus adds, his voice laced with concern.

James brushes it off easily. “My mother hasn’t executed anyone... like, ever. Calm down, it’ll be okay. Right, Pandora?”

Pandora, who’s been oddly quiet, looks up from the crab she’s been inspecting. “Hm? Yeah, sure,” she says, distracted and far less concerned than the others.

“That’s not fair. You know she wasn’t listening,” Remus says, sounding exasperated.

James’s attention returns to Regulus then, his eyes gleaming with an odd mixture of amusement and something else.

“I’ve never seen a human like you before,” James says, and Regulus feels his heart stutter, a strange flutter in his chest.

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” Regulus asks, trying to keep his voice steady, though the weight of James’s gaze is making it difficult.

“You’re oddly calm about this,” James replies, leaning slightly closer, as if he’s studying him, intrigued.

Regulus shrugs, the motion feeling strangely effortless despite the heaviness pressing on his chest. “I was about to die like an hour ago,” he mutters. “I have my priorities straight.”

James laughs, an easy, natural sound.

“You shouldn’t have seen any humans at all,” Remus mutters, his voice low and cautious.

“Don’t act like you haven’t done the same,” James snaps back, not missing a beat.

“I was a child,” Remus replies stiffly.

“You were more fun,” James grins, teasing.

“It’s forbidden,” Remus hisses, his eyes narrowing with concern.

“Says who?” James shoots back, his smirk widening. 

“Says the law.”

“And who exactly makes that law?” James presses, almost too smug for his own good.

Regulus, still trying to piece together this odd little world he’s found himself in, doesn’t fully understand the exchange. But something tells him that James has just won, and Remus is on the losing side of whatever this is. Still, Regulus decides not to ask more about that. Instead, he asks something else, the question coming out before he can think it through.

“Where did your tail go?” His voice is soft, but his curiosity is clear. He’s holding back from saying it was beautiful, but it lingers in his thoughts.

“It goes away when we aren’t wet,” Pandora says absentmindedly, not looking up from where she’s idly fiddling with a seashell.

“Pandora,” Remus hisses, glaring at her with evident frustration. “Don’t give it information.”

Pandora seems unfazed, simply shrugging as if she didn’t mean any harm. James, meanwhile, is watching the exchange with a sly grin.

“You must be cold. Humans get cold in water, right?” James tilts his head, studying Regulus with open curiosity.

Regulus nods slowly. Now that the initial shock has worn off, the cold is settling into his bones, making his fingers feel stiff and his body heavy.

“James,” Remus warns, his voice tight with disapproval.

But James ignores him, shifting closer, his expression turning almost playful. “He’s cold, Remus,” he says, pouting dramatically, like that alone should justify whatever he’s about to do next.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to go back before we get caught,” Remus insists, his sharp features drawn in a tense expression.

“He needs help.”

“It can help itself.”

“My cottage is close by,” Regulus says, his voice quieter than he intended. He doesn’t exactly know which side he’s helping with that point, whether he’s giving James an excuse or giving Remus a reason to leave faster.

Remus smirks, like he wants to say something about that, but James interrupts him, his excitement practically vibrating off of him.

“Great! So it won’t take long.”

He looks delighted, and who is Regulus to refuse him?

Remus huffs, clearly unimpressed, but James is already moving, already pressing in close, wrapping an arm around Regulus like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ve got you,” James murmurs, his voice softer now, as if he’s speaking a secret into the space between them. His arm is steady around Regulus, holding him upright like it’s something he’s meant to do, like it’s something he wants to do. And despite himself, despite everything—despite the absurdity of this moment, the impossibility of it—Regulus lets him.

The others follow behind, though Remus keeps his distance, grumbling under his breath about how reckless this all is. Peter trails after him, occasionally muttering in agreement but making no real effort to stop anything. Pandora hums as she walks, distracted by the land, by the strange way the earth shifts beneath her feet.

By the time they reach the cottage, Regulus is still shivering, his limbs stiff from the cold. James and Pandora immediately busy themselves with his belongings, rifling through his things with open curiosity, turning objects over in their hands, examining them like artifacts of a foreign world.

Despite all his earlier fussing, it’s Remus who takes it upon himself to warm Regulus up. He moves with an almost reluctant efficiency, lighting a fire with quick, practiced movements. But the moment the flames flicker to life, Remus flinches, hissing sharply, more than a human would. Like he hadn’t expected it to feel like that—so harsh, so invasive against his skin.

Remus hesitates only for a second before moving, wrapping him in a blanket, tucking it around him with a firm but careful touch. Then, without a word, he grabs a towel and starts drying his hair, his fingers working through the damp strands with surprising gentleness.

Meanwhile, the rest of them continue their exploration of his home, completely unbothered by the fact that they are, without question, invading his space.

Regulus has always liked his space. He’s protected it fiercely—against Sirius, against his parents when possible, against anyone who might try to stake a claim on it. He never let anyone inside because what was the point? Letting people in only led to disappointment, to regret, to loneliness masquerading as camaraderie.  He would probably regret this if he thought about it for longer than a second. Seeing that he ended up alone.

But strangely, he finds that he doesn't mind right now.

Not with James and Pandora.

He watches them move through his home as if they belong there, and for once, the intrusion doesn’t feel suffocating. He likes the way their eyes light up with curiosity, the way Pandora hums thoughtfully as she turns objects over in her hands, inspecting them like they might whisper secrets if she looks hard enough. He likes the way James grins and tosses things carelessly between his fingers, as if he owns them, as if they aren’t Regulus’s things but his own. There’s something so unselfconscious about it, so entirely different from the way people usually handle Regulus—like he’s something delicate, breakable, a collection of expectations rather than a person.

James doesn’t treat him like that. James just takes. And for some reason, Regulus doesn’t mind.

“Let’s go,” Remus says once he’s decided that Regulus is sufficiently dried, dropping the towel onto the chair beside him.

James stretches his arms over his head, then lets out an exaggerated yawn. “I’m tired,” he says, blinking sleepily as if that settles it.

“James,” Remus warns, already exasperated.

“Remus.” James smiles—a sly, knowing grin. Regulus watches it form on his lips, slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly how this will play out.

Remus folds his arms over his chest, unimpressed, but James only takes that as encouragement. His attention shifts fully to Remus, eyes wide with faux innocence. “Can’t we stay? Oh, please, just for the night?” He bats his eyelashes dramatically, his voice dipping into something almost sweet. But it’s not real. None of it is real, and yet somehow, Regulus knows he doesn’t actually have a choice in the matter.

Before he can say anything, James is at his side, clinging to his arm like a child begging for a treat. If his hands weren’t occupied, Regulus is sure he’d be pressing them together in some exaggerated show of pleading.

Behind them, Pandora blinks, as if just now tuning back into the conversation. “Oh, can we, Remus?” she echoes, tilting her head slightly.

Remus frowns. “No. And why are you asking me? It isn’t my cottage.”

James lights up like that was exactly the answer he wanted. “So, if Mr…” He trails off, looking expectantly at Regulus.

“Black,” Regulus supplies.

James grins. “If Mr. Black says we can stay, then we can?”

“That’s not what I said,” Remus snaps, but James is already looking at Regulus again, waiting.

“Please,” James says, drawing out the word, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. Then he turns to Pandora, who immediately joins in, her voice lilting in amusement. Peter, despite looking mildly uncomfortable with the idea, chimes in too—if only to annoy Remus.

Remus exhales sharply, shoulders sinking with resignation. He doesn’t agree, but he also doesn’t protest. And apparently, to James, silence is as good as permission.

A triumphant grin spreads across his face as he turns back to Regulus, clinging to his arm like he belongs there. He’s warm—warmer than he should be, and so effortlessly alluring that Regulus finds himself nodding before he can even think better of it.

“A favour for a favour, I guess,” he mutters. Then, quieter, “Thanks for saving my life.”

He’s not even sure if he means it.

“Anyone would have done it,” James says with an easy smile.

“I wouldn’t,” Peter mutters under his breath.

James shoots him a glare, but it’s half-hearted, distracted by his own excitement. “I promise we won’t be a bother. It’s just…” He hesitates for a fraction of a second before pressing on. “Me and my friends were on our way up when we saw you drowning. And—well, we want to see the fireworks tomorrow. I’ve never seen them on land before.”

Regulus blinks. “Fireworks?”

James nods eagerly, eyes lighting up. “Yeah. They go off every year around this time, but we’re always watching from the water. I want to see them properly.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Remus sighs, but there’s no fight left in his voice.

“But we will,” Peter shrugs, like he already knows James is going to get his way. Like he always does.

Regulus exhales slowly, already wondering if he’s going to regret this. “You can sleep in my room,” he says, addressing them all.

James immediately frowns. “It’s barely dark out,” he protests, like a petulant child being sent to bed too early.

Remus crosses his arms, unimpressed. “What happened to being tired?”

James grins, shameless. “We both know I wasn’t serious.”

“I am,” Pandora says, stretching her arms over her head. She yawns, and as her mouth parts, a shimmering bubble escapes, floating lazily through the air before popping.

She giggles. “Oops.”

“Where is your bedroom?” Remus asks, his gaze flickering around the cottage.

Regulus nods toward the hallway, already feeling the weight of their presence all around him. “This way.” He leads them down the narrow corridor, his steps slower than usual.

Once inside, he grabs spare blankets from the closet, laying them down on the floor in neat, deliberate folds. He pauses, staring at the soft fabric for a moment.

He wonders how mermaids sleep. Do they need pillows? Do they dream? And if they do, are their dreams like his—haunted and restless—or are they peaceful, free of the weight of expectations?

Regulus shakes his head, trying to clear the swirl of thoughts. He spreads out the blankets, wondering if it will be enough. Enough for them. Enough for him.

“One or two of you can take my bed,” he says, keeping his voice steady.

Remus furrows his brow. “And where will you sleep?”

“The couch.” Regulus doesn’t hesitate, his answer quick.

He had no intention of sharing a bed with any of them. It’s strange enough that he’s let them in at all. The water, the drowning, it must have messed with his head. That’s the only explanation he can come up with for why he didn’t just turn them away.

Anyway, it’s not like he’s keen on making any of them uncomfortable. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Remus says, his voice soft but firm, like the idea of Regulus sleeping on the couch is somehow wrong.

“Good thing you didn’t ask.” Regulus responds quickly, trying to brush it off.

“You can share with me if you want.” James offers, his tone light.

Regulus feels his face flush at the suggestion, a warmth creeping up his neck. He considers it for a brief, dangerous second—the idea of his skin, warm and close, against James’s. The thought stirs something in him. He shakes his head sharply, coming back to his senses. This is a stranger.

“No, uh…no, that’s okay,” Regulus mutters, his voice tight, trying to mask the unease rising in his chest.

James frowns, his expression briefly falling before he hides it behind a casual shrug. Regulus can’t help but notice the subtle shift, the way James’s grin fades just a little, like he’s been quietly dismissed.

“Do any of you need anything else?” Regulus asks, trying to steer the focus away from the awkwardness hanging in the air.

Pandora makes herself comfortable, settling onto the bed with James. He wraps an arm around her in an almost protective gesture, like an older brother shielding a younger sibling. She snuggles into him, her eyes fluttering closed, content.

Remus and Peter, meanwhile, claim the floor, curling up with little complaint, though Peter occasionally shifts uncomfortably as if trying to find a position that feels less strange.

They all shake their heads in unison, signalling that they’re fine. Regulus nods, stepping back and retreating to the couch. It’s a small, quiet space, and for a moment, it feels like a fragile barrier between them and him.

He lies back, pulling a blanket over himself, the cool fabric settling over his skin. His thoughts wander, drifting off into the comfort of sleep. He dreams of pearls, delicate and luminous, scattered across a bed of soft, warm skin. Of sea salt and honey, the scents mingling together in a heady, comforting embrace.

It’s nice. A quiet reprieve. Probably the best dream he’s had in a while, one that’s free of the familiar hauntings of Sirius’s betrayal, his mother’s cold expectations, or the looming shadows of his father’s disapproval. For once, he’s not drowning in the weight of an empty, empty life.

 For once, it’s just peace.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Regulus wakes to the golden light of morning spilling through his curtains, casting soft patterns across the floor. For a moment, he just lies there, caught between sleep and wakefulness, his mind slow to pull itself from the haze of dreams.

Eventually, he pushes himself up, stretching out the stiffness from sleeping on the couch. The house is quiet, the kind of quiet that comes with early morning, before the world has fully woken up.

He pads toward the kitchen, intending to fix himself something to eat, but as he steps inside, he realises he isn’t alone.

James is already there.

He’s standing by the counter, inspecting a woven basket of fruit with an expression of mild curiosity. He picks up an apple, turning it over in his hands like he’s trying to decide whether or not it’s worth eating. Sunlight catches in his hair, making it look even messier than usual, as if he’s just rolled out of bed without a second thought.

Regulus pauses in the doorway, watching him for a moment before clearing his throat.

James glances up, grinning like he’s been expecting him. “Morning.”

“Hi,” Regulus says. “You hungry?”

James shrugs.

“What do mermaids normally eat?” Regulus asks.

James thinks for a moment. “I like crab.”

Regulus frowns. “You eat the crabs?”

“Circle of life. You eat animals too, right?” James says, biting into his apple.

“I’m vegan,” Regulus replies.

James blinks at him, clearly confused. Regulus sighs. “No, I don’t eat animals.”

James tilts his head, considering this new piece of information like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s heard all morning. “Huh,” he says, biting into the apple he was still holding. “I didn’t know humans cared about that kind of thing.”

“Most don’t.”

James chews thoughtfully. “So no fish? No shrimp? No—”

“No animals,” Regulus interrupts, levelling him with a flat look.

James hums, taking another bite. 

Regulus shrugs, stepping past him to open a cabinet. “I don’t really think about it.”

That’s not true, not entirely. His mother had been vegan, though not for any ethical reasons—just vanity, the pursuit of purity in every sense of the word. A body free of toxins, of filth, of anything unnatural. He isn’t sure why he kept it up after leaving, except that maybe it was just another thing of hers to cling to.

“Why’d you do it?”

“For my health,” he says instead. A lie, but an easy one.

James nods like that’s reason enough, leaning against the counter, watching him. “Fair enough.”

He takes another bite of the apple, still watching him like he’s trying to puzzle him out. “So what do you eat then? Seaweed?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “Fruits. Vegetables. Grains. Normal things.”

“That’s kinda impressive, actually. Don’t think I could do it.”

Regulus raises a brow. “It’s really not.”

“No, it is,” James insists. “I’d die if I couldn’t have salmon.”

Regulus grimaces. “Charming.”

James just laughs, hopping up to sit on the counter. “You’re really interesting, you know that?”

Regulus doesn’t know what to do with that, so he just keeps eating, pretending his face isn’t burning.

James sits on the counter, his legs swinging idly in the air like a child’s, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you sick?”

“Why would I be sick?” Regulus asks, trying to sound more casual than he feels.

“Your face is red.” James grins, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having.

Regulus rolls his eyes, turning away to hide his flustered expression. He changes the topic back, “Well, I don’t have any crab, but I guess we could go get fish later.”

“Later?” James blinks in surprise, then his smile widens, knowing exactly what he’s about to say. “Are you coming with us?”

Regulus hesitates for a moment, caught off guard by the question. He’d never considered fireworks special, nor had his family—there had always been other things to focus on. He’d never gone out of his way to see them before. But now, with James looking at him expectantly, it feels harder to say no. He guesses he didn’t have any real plans for today anyway, not beyond simply existing, letting things unfold as they will.

“I—yeah. Alright,” Regulus finally agrees, shrugging as if it doesn’t matter. “I’ll come.”

James grins like he’s won some small victory.

“Between you and me, I’m not exactly fond of fish,” he admits, leaning back against the counter, still swinging his legs in the air.

“Well, I guess that makes two of us.” Regulus shrugs and hops up beside him on the counter, feeling a little less awkward than he had moments before.

He digs into a bowl of oats and bananas, content to let the silence linger as James picks through the assortment of fruit in front of him. James tries them all, making exaggerated noises of approval, shaking his head when something doesn’t quite hit the mark.

“We’ve got fruits underwater,” James says between bites, “but they taste... different. More salty, I think.”

Regulus listens to him talk, only half paying attention to the words. It’s strange, eating breakfast with someone else. He hasn’t done it in years—his mother had always preferred solitary meals, and even after that, he had gotten used to eating alone, in silence. So long, in fact, that he hadn’t even realised how lonely it had been.

He glances at James, who seems oblivious to the quiet shift in Regulus’s thoughts, happily chatting about all the things he’s tried in his underwater world. There’s a certain ease to it, to being in someone else’s company.

James pauses for a moment, then asks, “What’s your name?”

Regulus blinks, surprised at the question. He realises, suddenly, that he never actually introduced himself. 

Not that he had time between all the drowning.

“Regulus.”

“Regulus.” James repeats it like he’s found something precious, rolling the name on his tongue. “I love the stars,” he adds.

Regulus raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “You can see them from the water?”

James shakes his head, his grin softening a little. “No, the water is opaque. The light can’t pass through.” He shrugs. “I chart them when I’m on land. I’ve always liked them. There’s something about the way they stay constant, even when everything else changes.” His eyes light up.

Regulus doesn’t say anything at first, letting the moment hang between them. He finds himself lost in the way James speaks, the passion in his voice grounding everything in the now. After a beat, Regulus breaks the silence. “You come here often?”

“More so when I was younger,” James responds, his voice light, though there’s a quiet nostalgia to it.

Regulus nods, considering the answer. “Are you supposed to?”

James looks at him, a sly grin forming on his lips. “What’s the fun in doing things you're supposed to?”

The words hit Regulus like a wave, bringing a bittersweet sting. Sirius had thought similarly. The thought lingers, heavy and fleeting at once. “I used to go stargazing with my family,” Regulus says after a while, his voice quieter now, as if the memories are still fresh but too far to touch.

James perks up at that, his face lighting with an almost childlike excitement. “Maybe you can take me sometime,” he suggests, his tone hopeful.

Regulus looks at him for a moment, “Maybe. But aren’t you supposed to go back today?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

James’s smile falters for a second, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he's thinking something through. Then, he quickly brushes it off, and the subject shifts with a practiced ease. “What’s your favourite star?”

The question is simple, but it cuts through the lingering tension between them, and Regulus finds himself giving in, talking about something as ordinary as stars. They continue to chat about constellations, about the stories behind them, as the conversation flows easily, almost as natural as breathing. For once, it’s nice, not having to think too much about the next word or the next thought. Just talking.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

When the others wake, the sun is higher in the sky, and the air smells like salt and sun-kissed sand. They take a walk around the beach, the soft sand shifting beneath their feet. They all steer clear of the water, a silent agreement among them to avoid its dangerous, unpredictable pull. All except James, of course, who, without a care, edges dangerously close, his feet just inches from the waves. He stands there, grinning like the water’s a challenge, but he never actually steps in. Regulus watches, tense, knowing all too well that even a single touch could send them spiralling back into their mermaid forms.

“James!” Remus calls out, his voice sharp with concern. He stops a few feet away, watching James carefully. “Get away from the water, mate.”

James, unfazed, simply grins wider, his arms open as if daring the waves to come to him. But he doesn’t step closer, doesn't let himself fall into the water's call. Instead, he gives Remus a mock salute, tossing a few rocks into the waves with a laugh.

Meanwhile, Pandora links her arm with Regulus’s, pulling him toward a line of colourful beachside gift shops. They’re brimming with trinkets—shell necklaces, little painted figurines, tiny glass bottles filled with sand from the shore. Pandora’s eyes light up as she drags him from one stall to the next, her excitement contagious.

“You should get one of these,” she says, gesturing at a delicate seashell bracelet.

Before Regulus can object, she picks it up, inspecting it carefully. He doesn’t argue when she adds it to the small collection of items in her hands. Instead, he simply pulls out his wallet and buys them all—without her even having to ask. He doesn’t quite know why he does it. Maybe it’s because she did apparently have some part in saving his life. Or maybe it’s because the joy that lights up her face when she receives something is a small comfort in a world that feels increasingly out of his control.

Even if, deep down, he would have preferred death over being in her debt.

She quizzes him relentlessly as they stroll through the shops, asking about anything and everything—things that seem normal to everyone else but are utterly foreign to her. Cars, fire, televisions, the way human homes are heated. “What’s it like?” she presses, eyes wide with curiosity.

Regulus does his best to answer, trying to make it sound as interesting as possible. He explains the basics, talking about how fire keeps people warm and how televisions bring entertainment, even though part of him finds it all so incredibly mundane.

James, still hanging back from the water’s edge, seems just as fascinated, eager to soak up every bit of the information. Even Remus seems engaged in the conversation, his eyes focused on Regulus as he listens intently. The only one who isn’t paying attention is Peter, who seems to have spaced out ages ago, his gaze drifting toward the horizon.

Regulus wonders if he should find the whole quiz boring too—an endless cycle of questions and answers, explanations about things that everyone else takes for granted. But instead, he finds himself feeling strangely content, a part of something, even if it’s only for a little while.

They get ice cream at a nearby van. Peter takes a cautious bite and frowns, a look of confusion crossing his face. "It feels weird on my tongue," he says, like he’s unsure what to make of it.

Pandora wrinkles her nose, clearly not a fan, and hands her cone to James without saying a word. James grins, eager to accept, and devours it in a few quick, satisfied licks. Remus, meanwhile, takes a slow, deliberate lick of his chocolate ice cream, savouring the taste. Regulus thinks that means he likes it.

They leave the ice cream behind and head for the water, though they keep their distance. The air feels warmer, and the sunlight reflects off the ocean like it’s inviting them to dive in, but they all stay on the shore.

Later, they go fishing in a boat. Regulus catches a few, though he’s mostly there to make sure they have enough. He cooks the fish for them, even if he won’t touch it himself. The smell fills the air as the fish sizzles in the pan. Peter, for some reason, seems surprised. "We usually eat it raw," he says, inspecting the cooked version. But after a bite, he nods with a grin. "I actually prefer it like this."

Remus, sitting nearby, digs into his fish like it's no big deal, his sharp teeth tearing through the flesh with ease. The sound is brutal, like something primal, and Regulus can’t help but watch, fascinated.

Out of the corner of his eye, Regulus notices James staring at him, his eyes wide and curious. Regulus looks away quickly, unsure of what to do with that attention. He doesn't want to deal with it now. Instead, he focuses on his roasted sweet potato and chickpea salad  in front of him, pushing a piece of it around on his plate.

When it’s time to see the fireworks, there’s an excitement in the air. Even Remus doesn’t scold anyone, letting the moment unfold with a rare, carefree energy. James, however, seems to be practically bouncing on his heels, skipping ahead even as Regulus leads the way. His excitement is contagious, and despite himself, Regulus feels a tinge of anticipation in the pit of his stomach.

They make their way to the bridge, the very one Regulus had fallen off of, and a quiet unease flickers through him for a brief second. You’d think he’d be scared, sitting here again, remembering how close he came to drowning. The idea of the water beneath him, so close, should unsettle him. But it doesn’t. He sits on the bridge, legs dangling over the side, with a casual indifference that surprises even himself.

It takes an hour for the fireworks to start, and Regulus listens to the others chat among themselves. Peter's voice is loud, punctuated with random, nonsensical thoughts while Pandora answers. Remus contributes with quieter observations, his usual thoughtful tone steady and grounded. Regulus stays silent, watching the crowd, keeping his thoughts to himself.

When the fireworks finally burst into the sky, he watches their eyes light up. Peter and Pandora exclaim loudly, “Oooh!” and “Ahhh!” in delight, caught up in the spectacle, while Remus watches in quiet appreciation, his lips curled in a faint smile.

But it’s James that keeps Regulus’s attention. His face is illuminated by the bursts of colour, eyes wide, a little boy’s wonder in his expression. There’s something almost magical in the way he looks at the sky, as if he’s discovered a new world up there in the fireworks. He seems fascinated, caught between the beauty of the moment and the urge to ask a thousand questions about it. Regulus doesn’t turn away, his gaze lingering on James as the explosions of light ripple across the dark sky. It’s as if, in that moment, everything else fades into the background, and it’s just him—watching, wondering.

After the fireworks fade and the last bursts of colour disappear into the sky, it’s clear that the moment is over. The crowd starts to disperse, and with it, the fleeting sense of magic that had been hanging in the air. Regulus feels a quiet disappointment settle over him, but he knows it’s unjustifiable. These people are strangers. They aren’t his friends. It’s been just twenty-four hours, a mere speck in time. Still, he can’t deny that this has been one of the best days he’s had in a while—full of life, light, colour, and people. A rare experience that feels like it shouldn’t have happened, yet it did.

As the crowd thins and the sounds of laughter and chatter start to fade, they head toward the sea. It’s time to go. Regulus watches Pandora step forward first, her eyes bright and shining, and she gives him a big, unexpected hug. It’s warm and tight, full of an unspoken gratitude that he doesn’t know how to respond to. Before he can say anything, she’s already walking toward the water, and with a graceful flick, her tail appears, pure white and glimmering under the fading light of the night.

Peter hesitates for a moment, his usual nervousness creeping in. He gives Regulus a quick, awkward nod before mumbling a soft "Thank you," his lips tight. Then, he bites his lip, as though unsure of himself, and finally steps into the water after Pandora.

Remus follows, offering a small smile and a firm handshake. His quiet presence makes Regulus feel grounded for a moment, like someone who understands what it means to be out of place. Remus doesn’t say much, just a simple, “Take care,” before he, too, steps into the sea.

Regulus waits for James’s goodbye, but it doesn’t come. Instead, James stands there, silent, staring out at the water. Regulus watches him, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment, some kind of parting word. But when James’s gaze shifts, it’s not to him—it’s toward the cottage in the distance, a faraway look in his eyes.

Regulus swallows, feeling a strange knot in his chest. He doesn’t know what he expected, but it definitely wasn’t this silence.

James turns back to his friends in the water, their tails glistening as they move further in, and says nothing. 

"James," Remus says, and there's a hint of warning in his voice, something heavy, like he’s been through this before. "You’ve had your fun, but it’s time to go."

But James doesn’t move. His posture is stiff, his gaze fixed out across the water, almost like he’s trying to delay the inevitable.

"James?" Peter calls, his voice more tentative this time.

“Just one week,” James says softly, barely above a whisper. His voice shakes, as though the words are too much to let go of. "Please, just cover for me for one week. That’s all I need."

There’s a long pause, and then Remus responds, his tone gentle but firm. “James, you know I can’t.”

James turns to him, his face full of desperation, his eyes wide with unspoken pleadings. “Just a little bit more time,” he urges, his voice breaking slightly. “There are still more human things I want to see. I swear, I won’t go off again. You know I won’t get another chance.”

The silence stretches, and for a moment, Regulus wonders if Remus will break. If he’ll give in to the softness in James’s voice.

Finally, Remus stays silent for a beat too long. Then, quietly, he asks, “...Just one?”

James nods, relief flashing across his face, but it doesn’t last long.

“You promise?” Remus asks, his voice low and serious, as if this decision holds more weight than anything else.

“I promise,” James replies, his voice steady now, though there’s an edge of pleading beneath it.

"If Mr. Black is okay with it," Remus adds, his gaze flicking briefly to Regulus. The words hang in the air like an unspoken challenge, as though testing some invisible boundary.

“You don’t have to say yes. I’ll be fine on my own,” James says, his voice low but insistent, as if trying to protect Regulus from making a decision that he might regret.

Regulus looks at him, the words rushing out before he can think better of it. "You can stay." It comes out almost immediately, almost too quickly. He feels his face heat up, a flush creeping up his neck.

For a second, the world seems to hold its breath. James’s eyes widen just slightly, and for a moment, neither of them speaks.

The silence stretches between them, broken only by the distant sound of water lapping at the shore. Slowly, the other three begin to retreat into the water, their silhouettes growing smaller in the fading light. Remus sends James one last look, a silent warning, before he disappears into the depths. And then it’s just the two of them left on the shore, the weight of the moment settling in.

They walk back to the cottage slowly, neither of them speaking at first. The quiet feels heavy, like the kind of silence that fills the space between people who don't quite know what to say next. Finally, Regulus breaks it.

“Why are you so keen on seeing human things?” His voice is softer than he intended, but the question feels like it needs to be asked, like he’s been wondering for a while now.

James glances at him, his hands stuffed into his pockets, looking a little uncertain for the first time. “I won’t get a chance to after I’m crowned.”

Regulus pauses, his brow furrowing. “Crowned? Like royalty?”

James nods, his gaze distant as if the weight of the words hangs heavier than he’s willing to let on. “Yeah, like royalty. Once I take the crown, there’s no going back. No more freedom, no more—” He trails off, his eyes flicking to the horizon. “I won’t get to see human things anymore. Not the way I can now, at least.”

Regulus’s heart sinks a little, the idea settling into his chest like a stone. Of course, James is a prince. Of course, he’s not just some reckless wanderer with no responsibilities. He’s part of a world Regulus can’t even begin to fathom, a world so different from his own. James looks like he’s straight out of a fairy tale, the kind of person you read about but never truly believe exists.

They fall silent after that, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air between them. 

The quiet settles, uncomfortable in its stillness, until James breaks it, his voice softer than usual. “Why did you just accept it?”

Regulus’s heart lurches at the question. “Accept what?”

“Drowning.” James’s gaze flickers to him, searching. “You didn’t fight back or anything.”

Regulus’s chest tightens, and he looks ahead, his voice quieter now. “It was harder to not accept it. I just didn’t have the energy not to.”

James’s face shifts, a flicker of confusion crossing his features before it settles into concern. He steps closer, his hand brushing lightly against Regulus’s arm. “What about your family?”

Regulus’s breath catches, and for a moment, he feels like he’s suspended between the weight of the past and the pull of the present. “All my family is dead... or gone,” he says, the words leaving his mouth with a cold finality, a truth that he’s said too many times but never really believed.

James doesn’t say anything at first.

Regulus swallows the lump in his throat, eyes fixed on the ground ahead, unsure if he should say more, unsure if he even wants to. 

“Oh,” is all James says, his voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t apologise, doesn’t offer the words Regulus might have expected, because somehow, James seems to know there isn’t a point.

James takes a deep breath, looking ahead as though summoning the courage to continue. “My dad died last moon,” he says, his voice quiet but firm.

“Oh,” Regulus replies, not knowing what else to say. The word feels hollow in his mouth, but it’s all he can manage.

James gives a sad, slow nod, his eyes distant. “He was a good dad,” he continues, and for a moment, he seems lost in the memory. “He used to take me hunting, and we’d paint seashells together, he made sure I always knew I was... worth something. Not just as a Potter. But then he and Mum got sick. Only my dad died, though. Mum’s still sick but... she’s hanging on. And now I’m set to be crowned as a ‘precaution.’” James’s voice tightens, bitterness creeping in. “I hate the implication.”

“Not sure I can say the same about my family.” Regulus shifts, his gaze distant, like he’s pulling fragments from a past that still feels too heavy. “My mother... she was always so obsessed with status, with making sure we were seen as perfect. Everything was about appearances. She’d host these grand parties, act like she was the queen of the world. Smiling, laughing, all for the guests. But behind closed doors, it was different. It always was.”

He pauses for a moment, his expression turning bitter. “And my dad... he wasn’t much better. He was there, physically, but never really present, you know? Always cold, distant, like I was just another obligation. Just another heir to groom, another step in his legacy. He never saw me for who I was. I was just a tool to carry on the family name, to follow his rules, to fit whatever image he had in mind. And that’s all we ever were, really... an image. My brother and me—just performances. I always thought we were just part of a bigger act, a display to keep up appearances. Robots, essentially.”

Regulus swallows hard, the old ache stirring in his chest.

“There were good moments, though,” Regulus continues, his voice lower now, almost reluctant. “Like when my brother and I would sneak away and do things we weren’t supposed to. It was rare, but it happened. Sometimes, I’d catch my mother actually looking at me like she saw me, not just as her son but as... someone worth knowing. But it never lasted. The weight of it all always crushed it. I don’t know, maybe that’s how it goes when you’re born into something like that—there are fleeting moments where things feel normal, but they always slip away.”

He doesn’t look at James as he speaks, feeling the lump in his throat tighten, the words coming out slower, quieter. 

James squeezes his hand gently, the warmth of it pulling Regulus back to the present. Regulus blinks rapidly, his vision blurring for a moment. The tears are close—too close.

“So, you’re a nepo baby?” James jokes, trying to lighten the mood, his voice carrying a teasing note that makes Regulus want to smile, but the knot in his chest makes it hard.

Regulus gives a small, reluctant laugh, his lips curling just a little. “You are literally a prince,” he replies, the words almost absurd in their truth, yet somehow comforting in their absurdity.

James chuckles, but then the smile fades a little, and his voice softens. “Are you quite lonely, then?” He says it like it’s the worst thing in the world, a burden Regulus shouldn’t have to carry.

Regulus doesn’t even have to think about it. The answer is already there, spilling out before he can stop it. “Yeah.” His voice is quieter now, almost vulnerable in a way he’s never let anyone see. He doesn’t know when he started being so honest, but maybe it’s because of the state James first met him in. His lowest point, when he was barely hanging on, his soul stripped bare, teetering on the edge of death. It was as if James had seen him at his worst, and now, somehow, Regulus feels like he can show him a little more.

James doesn’t say anything for a while, just holds his hand, the silence between them full of understanding.

“Why did you save me?”

James looks at him, his expression soft, almost distant. “I’ve seen you before,” he says, his voice quiet, as if he's recalling something from long ago. “When I was little, I used to sneak out often in the summer. I recognised you immediately. You look beautiful.”

Regulus feels his face heat at the sudden compliment. He didn’t expect that—didn’t expect the words to hit him the way they do.

James doesn’t seem to notice his blush. “But so sad. Like you weren't making an effort to leave, but you didn’t want to be there either. But I knew you didn’t want to die. Not with the way you were holding your breath. Like you were making an effort to survive, but not fighting.”

Regulus raises an eyebrow, a dry laugh escaping him. “You got all that?”

James shrugs, the corners of his lips tugging up slightly. “My mum says I’m an empath.”

Regulus laughs at that, the sound genuine. It’s strange to feel lighter with someone who barely knows him, yet somehow, it feels like James does.

They continue walking in silence after that, the distance between them feeling less than it did before, as if they’ve crossed some invisible line. The night air is cool against their skin, and though the walk is quiet, it feels like they’re both saying everything they need to without a single word more.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Regulus wakes up on the first day of James’s stay pressed flush against him. The first thing he notices is the warmth—James is like a furnace beside him, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, his arm slung loosely over Regulus’s waist. For a moment, Regulus stays still, caught between the drowsiness of sleep and the awareness of just how close they are. Then it hits him, and his face flushes.

He shifts carefully, trying not to wake James as he inches away, giving him space. His heart is racing for reasons he doesn’t want to examine too closely. He ends up on the very edge of the bed, his back nearly hanging off, but at least there’s distance now. He exhales quietly, staring up at the ceiling.

He still doesn’t know how James convinced him to share the bed.

When they’d gotten back last night—after saying goodbye to James’s friends and talking about their families—Regulus had led him to his bedroom, already prepared to take the couch for the week.

“I couldn’t ask you to sleep on the couch for a whole week,” James had argued, standing in the doorway with that infuriatingly charming smile.

Regulus hadn’t known how to say no. 

He was really starting to sense a pattern.

When James wakes, they get ready together in the soft quiet of the morning. It feels strangely domestic—comfortable in a way that catches Regulus off guard. He stands at the small sink brushing his teeth, and when he glances to the side, he finds James watching him, bleary-eyed but amused.

Regulus rolls his eyes, cheeks faintly pink. Without a word, he rummages through the drawer and pulls out a spare toothbrush, holding it out to James. Their fingers brush as James takes it with a grin.

They brush their teeth side by side, their reflections in the mirror slightly fogged, toothpaste foam threatening to spill over their lips as they struggle not to laugh.

Afterward, they head into town together, the crisp morning air waking them up fully. Their shoulders bump occasionally as they walk, and though they don’t say much, it’s easy—like they’ve done this a hundred times before despite only having met two days ago.

The town is already stirring to life, the gentle hum of conversation mixing with the occasional laughter drifting from small cafés. Somewhere, music starts playing—lively, carefree—and James’s face lights up like the sun breaking through clouds.

“Oh, I love music,” he says, his excitement so pure that Regulus doesn’t even have a chance to protest before he’s being dragged toward the centre of the square.

People are dancing—loose, unrestrained. It’s nothing like the rigid, rehearsed steps Regulus was taught growing up. His mother had always said free dancing was classless, a vulgar display beneath their status. But here, no one cares. And James is already moving, fluid and effortless, like he was made for this.

Regulus tries to keep up, but he’s stiff—awkward in his own skin. James spins him with a laugh, eyes bright and teasing.

“For a human, you aren’t very good on your feet,” James smirks, the words laced with playful mockery.

Regulus glares at him, but he’s smiling—really smiling—for what feels like the first time in forever.

They sit on a bench, tired, feet sore after hours of dancing. The music has faded into the background, and the town hums with the softer sounds of late afternoon—murmured conversations, the clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter.

Regulus stretches his legs out, wincing slightly. “I didn’t think it was possible to feel this sore from having fun,” he mutters, though there’s a trace of amusement in his voice.

James laughs, leaning back with his arms spread along the top of the bench, eyes squinting up at the sky. They sit in comfortable quiet for a while, but Regulus feels the need to fill it—like he always does when something feels too good, like he might ruin it if he doesn’t keep it moving.

“How do you know Remus, Peter, and Pandora?” Regulus asks, trying to sound casual, though his curiosity is genuine.

James perks up a little. “Oh, well—Peter lived near me when we were younger. He’s always been a bit jumpy, but he’s loyal. Good heart. Pandora was in my classes. She’s brilliant, honestly. Kind of odd, but in the best way. Remus…” He trails off, a grin tugging at his lips. “Remus is my bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” Regulus raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching.

James nods, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Yeah. He’s part shark. So, you know—makes him pretty qualified.”

Regulus blinks. “Part shark,” he echoes, trying to picture Remus as a fearsome predator.

“They’re misunderstood, you know. Sharks,” James continues matter-of-factly. “Everyone thinks they’re vicious, but they’re actually pretty chill. It’s the dolphins you’ve gotta watch out for.”

Regulus lets out a surprised laugh. “Dolphins?”

James nods solemnly. “Menaces. Don’t let the cute faces fool you.”

Regulus shakes his head, amused despite himself, and James launches into more stories. He talks about the trouble he’s gotten into at the castle—how he likes to paint sometimes when he’s alone, but mostly he spends his time pulling pranks, dragging Peter and Remus along for the chaos. He tells Regulus about sneaking into the kitchens and charming the cooks into giving them extra dessert, about the time he and Remus switched out a royal feast’s wine with a serum that made everyone hiccup bubbles for hours.

James talks like his life is full of colour—messes and laughter and friendship—things Regulus can’t quite grasp.

When James finally pauses, Regulus realises it’s his turn. He shifts uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how empty his own life sounds in comparison. “I don’t really… do much of anything,” he admits, his voice quieter. “I just… lie around. Think. Wallow in my sorrow, mostly.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but it falls flat. He cringes inwardly.

James doesn’t laugh, though. He just looks at him—really looks—and Regulus feels both seen and exposed. But there’s no pity in his eyes. Just understanding.

“Maybe you need a hobby,” James supplies, his tone light but not dismissive.

Regulus huffs a small, dry laugh. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Well, it is,” James grins, standing up and stretching. “Come on.”

Regulus barely has time to protest before James is pulling him along, weaving through the town’s cobbled streets with renewed energy. They duck into shop after shop—places Regulus has never bothered to enter before, even though he’s walked past them year after year.

James picks up a guitar in a dusty music shop, strumming it horribly until the shopkeeper winces. He tries to press it into Regulus’s hands, but Regulus just gives him a look. James shrugs and puts it back.

In a small bookstore, James holds up a cookbook with a bright cover. “Baking could be fun. You seem like a bread guy.”

Regulus snorts. “What does that even mean?”

James grins. “Don’t know. Just feels right.”

Next, it’s knitting needles and bundles of soft yarn in rich blues and greys. “You could make me a scarf,” James says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Regulus rolls his eyes but takes the yarn anyway, feeling its softness between his fingers.

They move through more shops—paints and brushes, sketchbooks, gardening kits, even a puzzle shop. James is relentless, making him pick things up, hold them, imagine what it would be like to create something—anything—just for himself.

By the time they leave the last shop, Regulus is holding a small bag with a few items—yarn, a beginner’s knitting set, and a book on simple recipes. He feels a bit ridiculous, but also... lighter.

James grins at him as they walk back toward the square. “See? Easy.”

Regulus shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“I don’t see you complaining about it,” James teases, a lopsided grin on his face.

Regulus doesn’t deny it.

The rest of the day is filled with their attempts at hobbies—if they could be called that. Regulus fails miserably at nearly all of them. He burns the bread so badly the kitchen fills with smoke, and they have to open every window to let it out, coughing through their laughter. His painting looks less like a landscape and more like he’d upended the entire palette onto the canvas in frustration. James calls it “modern art,” but Regulus knows better.

Still, there’s something about the knitting. His stitches are uneven, the pattern incomprehensible, but he likes the way the needles click together and keep his fingers busy. He gives his failed attempt—a lumpy, misshapen square that could maybe pass as a potholder—to James. James accepts it like it’s the finest gift he’s ever received, holding it to his chest dramatically and calling it his “most prized possession.”

The puzzles, though—those he actually enjoys. There’s a quiet satisfaction in finding where each piece fits, watching the bigger picture come together. It occupies his mind, leaves less room for the thoughts that usually fester there.

But eventually, they abandon the half-finished hobbies and wander down to the sea. The sun is starting to lower, casting gold across the waves. They sit on a large rock by the shore, their legs dangling over the edge. James leans against Regulus’s shoulder, warm and easy, like he’s meant to be there. Regulus doesn’t mind. He watches the sea stretch endlessly before them, the salt air filling his lungs.

It’s beautiful.

Without thinking, he pulls out a small notebook from his coat pocket—the one he sometimes scribbles in when his thoughts get too loud. He starts writing. Not poetry, not really. Just observations. The way the water crests, the way the wind tastes, the faint call of seagulls in the distance. He’s always noticed things, he just never thought it mattered.

James peeks over his shoulder, reading as Regulus writes. His chin rests lightly against him, his breath soft and warm.

“You’re good at that,” James murmurs.

Regulus pauses. “At what?”

“Words.” James lifts his head slightly, like he’s trying to catch his eyes. “Writing them, I mean.”

Regulus opens his mouth to disagree, to brush it off like he always does, but the sincerity in James’s voice stops him.

Instead, he just hums quietly, and keeps writing.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

On day two, Regulus discovers an unfortunate truth—James has a habit of wandering around half-naked. Or fully naked. Like he’s not quite used to clothes, like they’re optional.

Regulus nearly drops his toothbrush when he steps out of the bathroom that morning and finds James standing in the middle of the room—completely bare, stretching his arms above his head, muscles shifting under sun-kissed skin. He looks like he belongs in a painting, some depiction of a god basking in his own radiance. It’s awful.

Terrible, actually.

Because Regulus is, quite frankly, terribly attracted to him.

He tries not to look. Fails. Looks anyway. His face flushes as he snaps his gaze to the wall.

“Where are your clothes?” Regulus demands, his voice coming out slightly higher than intended as he averts his eyes from James’s very, very bare body.

“They smell bad,” James says casually, like that’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for standing in the middle of Regulus’s room, completely naked.

Regulus blinks. “Where are your other clothes?”

James looks genuinely confused for a moment, like the concept of owning more than one set hadn’t occurred to him. Then, with a sheepish grin, he shrugs. “These are my only human ones. I took them from a man who went skinny dipping at night. It was quite funny, actually.”

Regulus stares at him, mouth slightly open. “You—what?”

James just laughs, clearly proud of his theft. “He came out of the water and—poof—clothes gone. Poor bloke had to run all the way home with his bits out.”

Regulus presses his fingers to his temples. “You stole some random man’s clothes, and that’s all you have?”

“Yeah. Well, they fit.”

Regulus exhales slowly, trying not to let his mind wander to James’s “bits” or how well the clothes had apparently fit him. 

James grins, utterly unbothered. “I didn’t see a point in putting them on anyway. They get all weird and clingy after a swim, you know?.”

Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are not swimming. You are in my house. Put something on.”

James laughs—slowly, like he’s doing it just to torture him. Regulus pointedly turns his back, but his ears are still burning.

This week is going to kill him.

Regulus sighs, dragging a hand through his hair as he steps toward his wardrobe. He rifles through his neatly hung clothes—pressed shirts, tailored trousers, pristine sweaters. Not one of them will fit James. James, who is taller, broader, who seems to take up more space just by existing. Regulus swallows. No, this won’t work.

He already knows where he has to go, but the thought makes his chest tighten.

With a deep breath, he steps out into the hallway and makes his way to a door he’s avoided for so long it feels like approaching a tomb. Sirius’s room. Left untouched since the day he left, frozen in time like a shrine—or maybe a punishment. His mother had sealed it like she could preserve his absence, a reminder of what happens when you defy her.

Regulus hesitates at the threshold, hand hovering over the doorknob. The familiar ache stirs in his chest—anger, grief, longing. But he pushes through it, twisting the handle and stepping inside.

The air is stale, thick with the remnants of a life abandoned. Posters still cling to the walls—bands their mother would have slapped him for listening to, motorcycles, messy scribbles of rebellion. The bed is unmade, like Sirius might return any second to flop down on it with a careless grin. Clothes are scattered in the wardrobe, half-folded, half-shoved—so perfectly, infuriatingly Sirius.

Regulus exhales slowly. He picks up a worn shirt and a pair of jeans, the fabric rougher than anything he owns. Sirius’s scent is faint, but it’s there—leather, smoke, freedom.

He hates how much it hurts.

But James needs clothes.

So Regulus leaves, clutching the bundle like it’s heavier than it should be.

He finds James in the living room, still blissfully shirtless, his bronze skin catching the morning light. Regulus averts his gaze, tossing the clothes into his lap with more force than necessary.

“Here.”

James picks up the shirt, turning it over in his hands. “Whose room was that?”

Regulus tenses, the question hitting like a cold wave. “My brother’s.”

James looks up, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What was he like?”

Regulus swallows, the lump in his throat tightening. It’s always been hard to put Sirius into words—he was too much and yet not enough at the same time. A storm, a spark, a freedom Regulus never dared reach for.

“It’s hard to describe,” he finally says, voice softer than he intended. “But... I think you would’ve gotten along.”

James seems to sense the weight in his words, the invisible line he doesn’t want to cross. He doesn’t push. He just nods, fingers brushing over the fabric of Sirius’s shirt like he understands the significance.

“We’re getting you new clothes. Today,” Regulus says firmly, crossing his arms.

James looks at him, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Is there a point? I have to go back in a few days.”

Regulus shrugs nonchalantly. “I won’t miss the money.”

James raises an eyebrow, his expression full of amusement. He whistles lowly, a slow, impressed sound that fills the space between them.

Regulus just sighs, rolling his eyes, but there’s a small tug at the corner of his lips that betrays him.

He leads James to the closest clothing shop, watching as James immediately gravitates toward the more colourful sections. As James tries clothes on in the dressing rooms, he’s like a kid in a candy store, picking out the brightest, boldest colours he can find. Every time he emerges, he gives Regulus a little twirl or a joking bow, always making a show of it.

“Do you think this one suits me?” James asks, holding up a bright yellow polo shirt, then twirling in it like he's auditioning for something. “Or should I go for something bolder?”

Regulus can’t help but laugh, though he tries to keep it contained. “You look like a walking highlighter,” he teases, though there's no real bite to it.

James grins, pulling on a pair of red sneakers next. “These are totally unnecessary,” he says with a wink, “but I want them anyway.”

Regulus watches as James grabs a few more polo shirts and pairs of pants, along with a set of sunglasses that Regulus figures he definitely doesn’t need, but James makes them look good. Regulus buys everything without hesitation, even the shoes, though he doesn’t quite know why he feels so happy to do so.

James bounces up to the counter, carrying his pile of colourful purchases, grinning like he’s won a prize. “Thanks for the shopping spree,” he says cheerfully, clearly delighted.

Regulus just gives him a look, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “Don’t get used to it.”

James just shrugs, a casual grin spreading across his face. “I won’t have time to get used to it.”

The words hit Regulus harder than he expects, and he frowns. He’d almost forgotten, lost in the simplicity of their time together, that this won’t last. It’s not forever. He tries to push that thought away, but it lingers in the back of his mind, weighing him down in a way he hadn’t expected.

“I miss my glasses,” James says, his voice distracted, as if he’s musing to himself.

“You wear glasses? Mermaids can need glasses?” Regulus asks, genuinely confused.

James shrugs nonchalantly. “My only weakness. God had to nerf me somehow.”

Regulus laughs at the absurdity of it, but then James’s words sink in, and he finds himself thinking about it. Glasses. He imagines James wearing them, the little details, the way they'd likely rest on his nose. The thought makes him flush, and he quickly looks away, suddenly embarrassed by his own imagination.

“I can see better on land without them than in the sea, but it’s still a little blurry, and it just feels odd not to have them there, you know?” James continues, pulling Regulus back from his thoughts.

Regulus nods, though he’s still a little lost in his mind. Then his expression shifts, a bit of curiosity creeping in. “Why don’t you have them?”

James pauses. “We left in a hurry so we wouldn’t get caught,” he says softly. “I didn’t have time to get them, otherwise, I would have run into my mum.”

Regulus nods and clears his throat. “We can get you actual glasses if you want?”

James shakes his head, a small, easy smile spreading across his face. “It’s okay.” He leans into Regulus slightly, his voice teasing as he adds, “I can see you just fine.”

Regulus stiffens a little, warmth creeping up his neck, and he quickly looks away, trying to hide his embarrassment. His heart gives an unexpected flutter, and he can’t decide whether to laugh or frown.

“Stop being so smug,” Regulus mutters, his words slightly harsher than he intends, but it’s the only way to cover up the blush on his cheeks.

James just laughs, unbothered by the sudden shift, and leans back a bit, clearly amused by how easily he can fluster Regulus. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

On the third day, the rain pours down so heavily that leaving the house is out of the question. Not just because James would turn into a mermaid the moment he stepped outside, but because anyone who would venture out in this weather would have to be crazy.

James, clearly not pleased with the situation, sulks on the couch, draped in blankets and looking out the window with a pout. Regulus watches him for a moment before sitting next to him, an unspoken understanding between them.

"We could watch a movie?" Regulus suggests, half-hoping to distract James from the storm outside.

James’s eyes light up at the suggestion. "Oh, I’ve never seen a human movie before. Remus told me about them."

"Remus?" Regulus asks, curious.

James nods, a small smile forming. "When we were younger, Remus would sneak out to see his human friend, and he told me about a movie they watched once. He said it was... magical."

Regulus raises an eyebrow. He never would have imagined that Remus had done something like that. He quickly grabs the remote and starts scrolling through the options, but James interrupts him, his hand reaching out to stop the motion when he lands on ‘The Little Mermaid.’

Regulus raises an eyebrow again, surprised by James’s choice, but shrugs and presses play. As they wait for the movie to start, James’s face lights up with anticipation, and Regulus can’t help but smile at the sight of him so animated.

"Popcorn?" Regulus asks, and James’s eyes widen with joy.

"Please," James responds, his voice practically bubbling with excitement.

Regulus heads to the kitchen and prepares the popcorn, just as James requested, and when he returns, they settle in to watch. James, usually so full of energy and chatter, becomes eerily quiet as the movie plays. Regulus glances at him several times, surprised at how intently James watches the screen, completely absorbed. It’s the quietest he’s been since the fireworks, and Regulus can’t help but wonder what’s going on inside his head.

As the movie goes on, James is so captivated that he doesn’t even notice when the popcorn bowl starts to empty. Regulus watches him, a soft feeling in his chest that he can’t quite place. The storm rages outside, but inside, everything feels... comfortable. Cosy. 

James breaks the silence, his eyes still glued to the screen. “It’s not all that accurate, but it’s pretty enjoyable. Like sea witches? Who’s ever heard of those?”

Regulus shrugs, glancing at the screen. “I don’t suppose it’s common for mermaids to fall for humans either, so.”

James gives him a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Well, not exactly. It’s common for them to mate with humans, I suppose.” He says it so casually, as if it's no big deal.

Regulus blushes instantly, feeling the heat rush to his face. James picks up on it immediately, his lips curling into a playful grin.

“Don’t act like I’m the one with the dirty mind,” James teases.

Regulus doesn’t know what to say, so he just mutters, "Shut up."

But before he can stop himself, he asks, “How do mermaids mate with each other?” The words slip out, and instantly, he regrets it. He hadn’t meant to ask, but now it’s out there.

James, as casual as ever, just shrugs. “We lay eggs,” he says matter-of-factly, as though it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Regulus blinks at him, stunned by how comfortable James is with such an odd topic. “How do... you know then?” he stutters, his face flushing even deeper.

James raises an eyebrow, giving him a look that makes Regulus shift uncomfortably. “Shag?” James says simply, as if it’s an obvious question.

Regulus nods, too flustered to say anything.

James’s answer is even more nonchalant. “Cloaca,” he says with a shrug, as if discussing anatomy was just another casual topic. “But some do it on land.”

Regulus is trying his best not to turn into a complete tomato, and in an attempt to distract himself, he grabs a notebook and starts jotting down notes about mermaids—anything to avoid looking directly at James.

James watches him for a moment before speaking again, his voice lower, smoother. “Why? Intent on becoming a mermaid anytime soon?”

Regulus looks up, eyes wide, feeling the heat in his face intensify. “That can happen?” he asks before he can stop himself, the curiosity overcoming his embarrassment.

James’s expression softens just a bit. “Sure. It’s happened before. Loads of humans have mermaid blood.”

Regulus raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

James shrugs, his voice casual as always. “Well, I said some mermaids reproduce with humans sometimes. The mermaid blood gets lost over generations, but sometimes those with mermaid blood can become actual mermaids. My friend Lily lived her whole life as a human before she found out and decided to drink this medication thing—it's made of pearls and some other stuff. I’m not a doctor, so I couldn’t tell you exactly what’s in it, but it allowed her to become an actual mermaid.”

Regulus tries to imagine it, the idea of someone transitioning from a human life to the vast, liquid world of the sea. It’s a strange thought, but somehow... he can’t quite push the image of himself among the waves, feeling the cool current against his skin. The idea of living a different life. He’s never even considered the possibility of something like that.

“What would it be like?” Regulus asks quietly, before he can stop himself. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking, just lost in the thought of it all.

James looks at him, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s... freeing,” he says softly. “Being able to swim anywhere, feel the ocean around you, no boundaries. It’s hard to explain. It’s not like anything on land.”

Regulus imagines it, and for a moment, he can almost feel the sea calling to him. He swallows hard, not sure what to say next,

“Which is nice and all, but it gets old sometimes,” James continues, his voice thoughtful. “I think I prefer it up here. There’s more to do. To explore.”

Regulus glances at him, intrigued. “More to do up here? On land?”

James nods, a grin tugging at his lips. “Definitely. The ocean’s beautiful, but it’s kind of... limiting, y'know? Here, there's more variety. People, places, food. And there’s always something new to discover.” He pauses, then adds, “Plus, there’s less chance of getting eaten.”

Regulus chuckles at that, though part of him can’t help but imagine how different everything must feel for James—his connection to the sea, the weight of being a mermaid, the constant pull of water. He wonders what it must be like to have such a deep connection to something so vast and powerful. But the way James talks about it, with that easy smile, makes it clear that he finds more joy in the land and everything it has to offer.

“Have you met very many people?” Regulus asks, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

James grins, almost teasingly. “Don’t worry, you’re my favourite.”

Regulus raises an eyebrow, not sure what to make of that. “Why is that?”

James’s grin only widens, his gaze softening as he looks at Regulus. “You’re funny. And you’re interesting. And you’re nice... and you’re pretty easy to fluster which is fun. You look pretty when you go all red or when you smile,” James adds, his voice light but sincere.

Regulus’s heart skips, beating a little faster than normal. He feels a warmth spread through him, a soft flutter he’s not quite used to. “You think I’m pretty?”

James’s expression shifts, the teasing fading into something more genuine, something softer. “I think you’re stunning.” He says it so matter-of-factly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and Regulus isn’t sure what to do with the rush of warmth that floods his chest.

For a moment, all Regulus can do is stare at him, his pulse quickening, and something in his chest feels full, something he doesn’t quite understand yet. All he can manage is a quiet, “Thank you.”

James just laughs, the sound light and warm, as if he’s been waiting for Regulus to react this way. It’s almost like he knew. “You’re welcome,” James says with a wink, his voice still laced with that easy confidence.

Regulus looks away, feeling the heat rush to his face.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

On the fourth day, Regulus teaches James to play volleyball. He’s not as athletic as he used to be—his body having grown accustomed to the stillness of more recent years—but when he was younger, he was always active. The game feels foreign in his hands now, but it’s fun to teach, and James catches on quickly, his natural athleticism shining through. Regulus is impressed, seeing how easily James adapts, especially with the way his movements are fluid and confident, a result of years of swimming and playing underwater sports.

The sun beats down on them, warming their skin as they run back and forth, the ball flying between them in an easy rhythm. Sweat glistens down James's chest, golden and shiny in the sun, and Regulus can't help but watch, distracted by the way his muscles flex with each move. There's something freeing about it—the simplicity of the game, the feeling of being outside, the quiet happiness of just playing.

It reminds Regulus of when he and Sirius were little, back when they only had each other to play with, when it was just the two of them against the world. They didn’t have many friends back then, and those memories are both comforting and bittersweet.

But now, it’s different. James is energetic, always loud with excitement, his face lighting up every time he scores a point. The joy in his expression is contagious, and Regulus can’t help but smile, something inside him warming at the sight. It’s nice, this feeling of playing with someone who’s not a part of his past, but a part of his present.

After the game, they sit down together with lemonade in hand, the tart sweetness cooling their throats as they sip it slowly. The sun starts to dip lower, the sky stretching into hues of orange and pink, and they lay down side by side on the grass, watching the world around them shift into night. The air cools, but neither of them moves, both content in the quiet, the weight of the day settling comfortably between them. They stay like that until it’s dark, and eventually, they head back to the house together, the evening wrapping around them like a soft blanket.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

On the fifth day, after a long day of exploring the woods, climbing trees, and encountering various animals, James suddenly suggests they go skinny dipping. It’s been a fun, tiring day, and the idea of cooling off in the water seems appealing. They head back to the cottage to grab something to eat, laughing over their adventures, before waiting patiently for the waters to clear out.

Once the beach is empty, James wastes no time. He shrugs his clothes off with an easy, carefree gesture, as if it's the most natural thing in the world, and steps into the water. Regulus watches him with a sense of quiet fascination, James’s body moving fluidly as he disappears into the waves, his eyes never leaving Regulus. Regulus feels a heat rise within him, an inexplicable rush of warmth from the intensity of James’s gaze. There’s something in the way James watches him, not in a hurry, but with quiet expectation.

Regulus feels his pulse quicken, and despite the heat building in his chest, he doesn’t look away. He knows James is watching him, but he refuses to back down. Instead, he peels off his clothes slowly, deliberately, as if trying to steady his own racing thoughts. He can feel James’s eyes on him, following his every movement, and with every inch of fabric that falls away, the tension between them builds.

“Are you going to watch me the whole time?” Regulus mutters, unable to hide the faint trace of unease in his voice.

James pauses for a moment, his expression softening. “Not if it makes you uncomfortable,” he says, beginning to turn away, respecting the unspoken boundary.

Regulus’s voice catches just slightly when he speaks. “No.” He forces himself to meet James’s gaze, his breath catching. “It’s okay.”

With that, he shrugs off the last of his clothes and steps into the water beside James. It’s cooler than he expected, but it’s soothing after the heat of the day. He isn’t as graceful in the water as James, his movements more hesitant, more clumsy, but that doesn’t stop James from splashing him playfully, his laughter light and carefree in the moonlight.

Regulus grins, his irritation melting away, and he splashes back, their laughter filling the air, mixing with the sounds of the waves lapping at the shore. The tension fades as they both let go, their playfulness taking over. The moonlight dances on the water around them, casting everything in a soft, ethereal glow.

They have fun—which at this point isn’t all that shocking. James is fun in a dull world. The simple joy of the moment is enough to drown out the confusion and the growing feeling in his chest.

Regulus finds his gaze drawn to James's tail, the soft golden scales shimmering in the moonlight. It's beautiful, like a piece of the ocean itself. Without really thinking, he whispers, “Can I touch it?”

James freezes, his eyes widening. The playful atmosphere shifts, and for the first time, Regulus sees him at a loss for words. James's face flushes a deep shade of red, and his gaze flits nervously to the water, avoiding Regulus’s.

“That’s kind of…uhm, I…” James stammers, clearly caught off guard. “I don’t know, it’s just…my tail is kind of sensitive, and touching it is…well, it’s a little…you know? I just feel like you should know that.”

Regulus feels a flush creeping up his neck. “Oh,” he says, swallowing the awkwardness. “You don’t have to say yes.”

James lets out a breath, his voice almost a whisper. “I know, it’s not that I want to say no… it’s just, you know, it’s a sensitive thing, and I don’t want you to feel weird about it.” His gaze softens a little, searching Regulus’s face for a sign.

Regulus, feeling an odd mix of nerves and curiosity, takes a moment before asking again. “Can I touch it anyway?”

James blinks, clearly caught off guard by Regulus’s calm insistence. His chest rises and falls a little quicker, but he finally nods, almost reluctantly.

With a steady hand, Regulus reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against James’s tail. He can feel the cool smoothness of the scales beneath his fingertips, and as he traces along its length, his finger catches on a ruby-colored scale. James shudders, and Regulus watches, fascinated, as his breath quickens, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red. James averts his gaze, unable to look at him directly.

Regulus smirks, the teasing edge creeping back into his voice. “Who’s flustered now?” he says with a playful raise of his eyebrows.

James, still flushed, smirks right back, though his voice is a little shaky. “Still you. Your face is just as red.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well… I’m not the one who’s blushing all over the place.”

He moves his fingers to the end of the tail, tracing it lightly. “Where did the pearls go?” he asks, curiously running his fingertips over the smooth tip.

James glances down at his tail and shrugs. “They aren’t part of my tail. I clip them on.” He smiles, a little more relaxed now. "They’re just for decoration."

Regulus laughs quietly. "Well, they’re pretty. Almost as pretty as the tail itself."

James laughs too, but there’s a hint of something else in his eyes, something soft, that Regulus can’t quite place.

“Getting bold now, are we?” James teases, his voice light but with a knowing edge.

Regulus smirks, meeting his gaze. “No, just honest.”

James hums, seemingly pleased by the response, and with a fluid movement, he pulls himself out of the water. Regulus can’t help but watch the droplets running down James’s body, catching the moonlight as they trail down his skin. It’s mesmerising, almost like something out of a dream. James turns back toward him, grinning.

“Hopefully no mermaid stole our clothes,” Regulus says with a dry chuckle, trying to shake off the strange warmth that’s settling in his chest.

James smiles, a grin full of mischief and something a little sweeter. “If they did, I’ll hunt them down.”

Regulus snorts, rolling his eyes, but there’s a sense of ease in the air now, the kind that only comes with something unspoken passing between them.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

On the sixth day, Regulus finds himself sitting next to James, the family photo album between them. He hadn’t planned on sharing it—hadn’t planned on reliving any of those memories—but somehow, when James had been digging through boxes of his old stuff, he’d stumbled upon it, his curiosity evident.

Regulus had been reluctant at first, fingers hovering over the album, unsure if he wanted to go down that road. But he finally relents, figuring it couldn’t hurt. It’s not like the memories would stop hurting just because he ignored them. And James seems... well, James seems like the type who would understand, even if it was hard to explain everything.

He flips open the album, his hands shaking just a little as the weight of the past presses in. The first photo he shows James is of him as a baby. James grins, eyes twinkling with mischief as he looks at the small, chubby Regulus.

“Who’s this little guy?” James teases, and Regulus flushes.

“Shut up,” he mutters, but it’s too late—James is already grinning, clearly enjoying the sight of baby Regulus in all his glory.

Next, Regulus flips to a photo of him and Sirius, both of them smiling, their faces filled with the kind of warmth that feels almost foreign now. The picture was taken before the world fell apart, before everything turned so terribly wrong.

“Is that your brother?” James asks quietly, his voice softer than usual.

“Yeah,” Regulus says, his gaze lingering on the photo. “We used to be close.”

He flips to another picture, this one of Sirius with a starfish clumsily perched on his face, the rest of the family gathered behind him. His mother is yelling in the background, looking furious about something Regulus doesn’t even remember.

“That’s my mother,” he says with a shrug. 

There’s a long silence before Regulus flips to a photo of his father, his arm wrapped tightly around Sirius’s shoulders. Their faces are blank, almost emotionless, as though they were just two figures posed for a picture, not a family. Regulus’s throat tightens as he stares at it. He doesn't say anything.

Next comes a picture of his mother smiling, the way she did when everything seemed perfect. But it’s a smile that feels hollow to Regulus now, too staged and too forced.

The photos continue, a mix of happy, mundane, and painful memories. With every flip of the page, Regulus finds himself walking through different stages of his life—stages that feel so distant now.

James says nothing, just watches quietly, his gaze steady. When Regulus explains a photo, he listens intently, but when he doesn’t, James respects the silence, not pushing him to talk about the things that still hurt too much.

Regulus flips through a few more pages, skimming over photos that no longer hold much meaning. But then, he lands on a photo of his cousins, Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. They’re younger, of course, their expressions full of something Regulus can’t quite place. The memory of them is clouded with his own bitterness—his family’s division, their differing paths—but it’s still strange to look at this moment, frozen in time.

James’s eyes widen a little bit, and he pauses as he stares at the photo.

“What?” Regulus asks, sensing a shift in the air.

“What is it?” he repeats, seeing James's curiosity spark.

James squints, his finger hovering near the picture. “They look familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Regulus raises an eyebrow, surprised by the reaction. He hadn't thought much about his cousins in a long time, but James clearly sees something that catches his attention. “You’ve seen them before?”

James shakes his head slightly, still looking at the photo with an intense focus. “I don’t know… just the way they look.”

Regulus thinks nothing of it.

For the rest of the day, they climb a mountain. The sky is clear, and the air feels fresh and alive as they make their way up, the dirt crunching beneath their boots. Regulus moves ahead, focused on the climb, though part of him still feels a little off-kilter after the photo conversation. But with each step, he lets the mountain’s beauty wash over him, the distant horizon drawing him in.

James, of course, is full of energy. His enthusiasm doesn’t wane for a second, despite the climb becoming steeper. He points out things along the way—an unusual bird, a strange rock formation, the way the sunlight hits the trees—and Regulus, despite himself, finds himself drawn into James’s excitement.

They stop at the summit, both breathing heavily but smiling. The view stretches endlessly, a patchwork of green and blue, and for a moment, everything feels peaceful.

“I didn’t think it would be this beautiful,” James says, looking out at the scene with wide eyes.

Regulus nods, feeling the quiet awe settle over him as well. "Yeah, it’s different when you’re up here. Everything looks... smaller from this height."

James grins, his eyes sparkling. "It’s like we’re on top of the world."

They stand in comfortable silence, taking in the vastness of the view, the only sound the occasional whisper of wind.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

On the last day, they get ready to say their goodbyes. James packs all his new human clothes and the little trinkets he’s collected over the week—things that once seemed so ordinary to Regulus but now feel like pieces of something much bigger. Regulus watches him, trying to memorise every detail—the curve of his smile, the way his fingers carefully fold each shirt, the faint hum he makes under his breath.

There’s a lump in Regulus’s throat that he can’t seem to swallow down. His eyes sting, and a wash of sadness overtakes him, heavier than he was prepared for. He hates to admit it, even to himself, but he’s fallen for James. Properly fallen. He’s gotten used to the laughter echoing through his house, to James’s voice filling the quiet spaces, to waking up and knowing someone else is there.

Now, the thought of returning to what life was like before—to cold, empty rooms and lonely dinners—feels unbearable. He’ll miss James desperately. James, who brought colour and warmth into every corner of his dull, grey existence.

The worst part is that Regulus is certain James doesn’t feel the same. Why would he? James, with his golden smile and bright eyes, belongs somewhere vibrant, somewhere full of life. Not here. Not with someone like Regulus—someone with dull skin, dull eyes, and a life that feels like it’s always teetering on the edge of fading away completely.

The day is quiet, too quiet. They brush their teeth in silence, side by side at the sink. Their shoulders bump lightly, but neither of them says anything. Breakfast is the same—quiet clinking of forks against plates, no jokes, no playful teasing. The air feels heavy with everything they’re not saying.

They don’t go out. They don’t climb trees or swim or hit a volleyball around. They just sit together on the couch, staring at the television, but neither of them is really watching. Regulus can feel James beside him, close enough that their arms touch occasionally, but it’s not the same.

The sky grows dark outside, and with it, Regulus feels the weight of goodbye pressing down on him. He doesn’t know how to say what he’s feeling. He’s not even sure it would matter if he did.

They head to the water. James drags his feet in the sand, his usual lightness gone, each step slower than the last, like he’s trying to make this moment stretch just a little longer. They pause when they reach the edge, the gentle lap of waves brushing against their toes. The sky is painted in soft hues of pink and lavender, the kind of beauty that should feel endless—but it doesn’t. It feels like an ending.

They stand there, just staring out at the sea, the place that will take James back to his world and away from Regulus.

“I did actually quite like you,” James says softly, breaking the silence. His voice is gentle, but there’s a rawness underneath, like it’s something he’s been holding onto for days. He holds out a bouquet of flowers, wrapped in seaweed. They’re damp and a little misshapen, but they’re beautiful in a wild, untamed sort of way. Regulus has no clue when he found the time to gather them, but he takes them all the same. His fingers brush against James’s, and the touch lingers for a second longer than it should.

Regulus tries to smile, but it’s thin, strained. “There are more fish in the sea,” he jokes softly, but the words cut as they leave his mouth. It’s supposed to be light-hearted, but it stings like salt in a wound.

“But I want you,” James says, and there’s a frustration in his voice now—like he’s used to getting what he wants, used to things falling into place. He shakes his head. “I want to get to know you. Really know you.”

Regulus opens his mouth, but nothing comes out at first. He doesn’t know how to respond—to be wanted like that, so plainly, so honestly. He feels both elated and terrified.

So, he settles on the only thing that feels true, the words that have been sitting in his chest all along.

“I’m glad that when I was lost at sea, I found you.”

James’s lips part slightly, like he wants to say something back, but before he can, a ripple in the water catches their attention.

Remus.

Regulus can see him approaching, his head just above the surface, hair slicked back and eyes sharp. He moves with the grace of someone who belongs to the sea, and his presence is a reminder—time is up.

James sees him too, and his shoulders tense.

James has to leave.

The weight of it presses down on both of them—this is the end. There’s no stopping it.

“Will you be okay?” James asks softly, his voice barely above the sound of the waves.

Regulus nods, but it feels like a lie. He’ll be okay—he always has been. He’s lived through the coldness of his parents, the absence of Sirius, the loneliness that’s become his constant companion. He knows how to survive in the shadows. But the thought of returning to that existence, after knowing what it’s like to be seen, to be wanted, to be happy—even for a little while—feels unbearable.

He’ll endure it, because that’s what he does. But it’ll hurt in ways he doesn’t have words for.

Still, he nods. “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

James doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t press.

There’s a moment of hesitation—both of them hovering on the edge of something. Regulus feels it in his chest, tight and desperate, like if he doesn’t do this now, he’ll regret it forever.

“Can I kiss you?” Regulus asks, the words slipping out before he can second-guess them. It’s bold. It’s terrifying. But it turns out to be the right thing to say, because James doesn’t hesitate.

He nods, and then he leans in.

The kiss is all-consuming—like the waves crashing against the shore, like the pull of the tides. It’s salt and warmth and everything Regulus has been aching for. He pours everything into it—the longing, the sadness, the hope, the gratitude. His fingers curl into James’s hair, holding him close like he’s afraid to let go.

A tear slips down Regulus’s cheek, and James feels it. He pulls back just enough to wipe it away with his thumb, his touch gentle.

“It’s okay,” James whispers, his breath warm against Regulus’s lips.

The moment lingers, delicate and fleeting, before it’s broken by the gentle sound of water shifting. Remus is there now, emerging from the waves, hair damp and clinging to his face. He’s carrying a small bottle filled with something shimmering, faintly glowing in the fading light. His eyes flick between them, taking in the closeness, the red-rimmed eyes, the quiet ache that hangs in the air.

He nods at Regulus in acknowledgment. “Regulus.”

Regulus nods back, his throat tight.

Then, softer, “James.”

James smiles, but it’s a different kind of smile—one that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s sad. “Hi, Remus.”

Remus watches him carefully, his brow furrowing. He can sense it—James’s sadness, the heaviness in his chest.

“It’s time to go,” Remus says, his voice gentle but certain.

James’s smile falters, but he nods. “A promise is a promise.”

He turns to Regulus, arms open, and Regulus steps into them without hesitation. James holds him tight, pressing his face into Regulus’s neck like he’s trying to memorise the feel of him. Regulus clings back just as fiercely, wishing he could freeze this moment—hold onto it so neither of them would ever have to let go.

When James finally pulls away, his eyes are glassy. He steps into the water, but they don’t swim off immediately.

Instead, Remus stays where he is, looking at Regulus with something thoughtful in his expression. He lifts the bottle slightly, the liquid inside swirling like stardust.

He shakes it once, and his voice is low but clear when he speaks.

“Do you want to come with us?”

Regulus’s heart stutters.

“What?” His breath catches in his throat.

James turns sharply, eyes wide with confusion. “Remus?”

Remus shrugs, but there’s warmth in his gaze, something gentle beneath his usual calm. “The offer’s there. You were drowning for a pretty long time, so I thought maybe... I don’t know. And you seem like you don’t like it here, so you might as well give it a shot, right?”

James looks between the bottle and Regulus, lips parting like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. He just stares, eyes flickering with hope and hesitation all at once.

Remus’s voice is quieter this time. “Do you want to try it? You’ll be leaving all of this behind if it works.”

Regulus freezes. He doesn’t have to stay.

That thought crashes over him like a wave, colder than the sea. He never considered that—not really. Not even because of James. This is about him. About not wanting to live the life he’s been trapped in. The cold, empty house. The silence. The grief that wraps around his ribs like a vice every day. He doesn’t want that anymore. He wants something new. He wants to breathe, to be free.

He swallows hard, then nods. “I’ll try it.”

James exhales, almost like relief, but there’s still tension in his jaw—like he’s afraid to believe this is real.

Remus nods too, more assured now. “Get in the water.”

Regulus steps forward, the sea lapping at his ankles, then his calves. It’s freezing, but it feels right. James reaches out, fingers brushing against his, and Regulus takes his hand. Together, they wade in deeper until the water is up to their waists, the cold biting at his ribs.

Remus holds out the bottle, the liquid inside shimmering faintly under the moonlight. Regulus takes it with trembling hands. His fingers feel clumsy, uncertain.

James notices. He grabs one of Regulus’s hands, steadying it with his own. His touch is warm despite the chill of the sea. Their eyes meet for a brief moment—no words, just understanding.

Regulus takes a deep breath, then tilts his head back and chugs the liquid. It tastes strange—salty, almost metallic, with a faint sweetness beneath it. He finishes it in one go, gasping slightly as he lowers the bottle.

At first, nothing happens. The water is still cold, and his legs kick instinctively to keep him afloat. He looks at James, uncertain.

Then the pain hits.

Sharp and sudden, like knives slicing through his calves. He hisses, body seizing up as heat floods through him, burning from his toes to his waist. His legs twist together, bones shifting, skin stretching, and it’s agony—but there’s something exhilarating about it too. He gasps, feeling scales ripple over his skin, smooth and sleek. When the pain finally subsides, he looks down.

His legs are gone, replaced by a tail. Pure black, sleek and shining, catching the faint light of the moon. There’s a subtle iridescence to it, hints of deep blue and purple when he moves. It’s beautiful.

James stares, eyes wide with awe. “Wow.”

Regulus laughs breathlessly, still dazed from the change. He lifts his tail slightly, feeling the muscles move—strange, but right. “Wow,” he echoes, his voice full of wonder.

James smiles, and there’s nothing teasing about it. Just pure admiration. “It’s beautiful.”

Regulus looks at him, heart swelling in a way he can’t quite explain. 

Remus nods, like this is all perfectly ordinary. “We have to go. We’re already behind schedule,” he says, and then—without another word—he swims off, sleek and practiced, disappearing into the dark water.

That leaves just the two of them.

James hesitates for a second, watching Remus go, before turning back to Regulus. His voice is soft, uncertain. “For what it’s worth… I’m glad I found you too.”

Regulus opens his mouth to respond, but James is already speaking again, his tone slightly nervous. “Would you want to…?” He trails off, biting his lip.

Regulus raises an eyebrow. “Would I want to…?”

James shifts, his tail stirring up gentle swirls of sand beneath them. “It feels weird asking you out after all of this,” he mumbles, cheeks pink even under the faint glow of the moon filtering through the waves.

“You’re asking me out?” Regulus tries to keep his voice steady, but he can’t quite stop the small smile tugging at his lips.

James laughs, a little self-conscious. “If you want me to.”

Regulus’s face heats up—he’s grateful for the water, hoping it hides the blush. He nods quickly, looking away. “Yeah. I—yeah. I’d like that.”

James beams, the kind of grin that lights up his whole face, and Regulus’s chest tightens.

“Well… you heard Remus,” he says, his voice tipping toward awkward, and without waiting for a response, he darts forward, swimming off into the open sea. His heart is racing, and he can hear James’s laugh bubbling up behind him—bright, warm, familiar.

Swimming is strange. Not drowning, not fighting the water—just moving, gliding. The sea looks different from this perspective. It’s vast and open and terrifying, but it’s also freeing. He’s not sure where they’re going, or what happens next.

But he’s not alone.

And for the first time in a long time, that feels like enough.