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The castle had reached that particular hour of afternoon where time started dragging itself across the flagstones like a dying slug.
Nothing was happening.
Nothing had happened for ages.
Nothing looked likely to happen unless James Potter finally gave in to the impulse currently flickering behind his eyes and set fire to something “academically useful.”
The Gryffindors had been wandering for nearly twenty minutes with the grim, tragic energy of a group of people who had already exhausted every hallway, every staircase, every portrait worth annoying, and every suit of armour that might reasonably be convinced to dance.
Sirius Black walked backwards at the front of the group, hands shoved into his pockets, looking unfairly alive for someone who had been complaining about being bored since breakfast.
“This,” he announced, “is oppression.”
Lily Evans didn’t even look up from where she was twisting a strand of hair around her finger, half amused, half unimpressed. “You’re oppressed because nobody wants to help you charm Filch’s mop into chasing him?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not oppression,” Mary Macdonald said. “That’s people having common sense.”
Sirius placed a hand over his heart. “Mary, I thought we were friends.”
“We are. That’s why I’m trying to keep you alive.”
James, beside him, dragged his feet with theatrical despair. “I’m so bored I can hear colours.”
Peter Pettigrew frowned. “What colour is bored?”
“Beige,” James said instantly.
“Grey,” Remus Lupin said at the same time.
Marlene McKinnon snorted. “Of course yours is grey.”
Remus gave her a tired look. “Because I’m correct?”
“Because you’re you.”
Alice Fortescue walked with her arm loosely hooked through Frank Longbottom’s, looking like she was seconds from laughing at all of them and also seconds from suggesting they go revise, which was exactly the kind of betrayal Sirius had come to expect from responsible people.
Frank, tall and kind and looking slightly like he regretted ever befriending chaos in human form, glanced between them all. “We could just go sit outside.”
“Frank,” Fabian Prewett said, horrified.
Gideon Prewett shook his head solemnly. “We trusted you.”
“I didn’t say revise,” Frank defended.
“You said sit,” Fabian said. “Dangerous slope.”
“First sitting,” Gideon added, “then thinking. Then homework. Then death.”
Alice laughed under her breath. “You lot are impossible.”
Sirius turned another slow circle in the corridor, as if searching the stone walls for a divine sign. “There has to be something. Someone. Somewhere. A scandal, a duel, a forbidden cupboard, a cursed tapestry—”
James suddenly stopped.
Because from somewhere down the corridor, behind a classroom door left slightly ajar, came a sound.
Not voices.
Not footsteps.
Music.
Sharp, electric, rough-edged music.
A guitar.
Everyone froze.
Peter blinked. “Is that…?”
“A guitar,” Lily said, already narrowing her eyes toward the door.
Marlene’s entire face lit up. “Oh, thank Merlin.”
Sirius tilted his head, listening. The notes came fast, angry and clean, bitten out with a kind of mocking precision that didn’t sound like a student messing around. It sounded too good. Too deliberate. Like someone had taken irritation, shoved it through strings, and turned it into sparks.
James’s eyebrows shot up. “Who the hell is playing like that in an empty classroom?”
“Someone fit,” Mary said immediately.
Frank gave her a look.
“What?” Mary whispered. “That was fit guitar playing.”
Remus hadn’t moved.
He was staring at the door.
Sirius noticed. “Moony?”
Remus blinked once. “What?”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m listening.”
“You listen like a haunted Victorian widow.”
“Quiet,” Lily hissed.
The guitar cut briefly, then started again, faster this time. Sarcastic somehow. That was the only word for it. The rhythm had attitude. It had teeth. It had its arms folded and one eyebrow raised.
Marlene crept forward first because Marlene had never respected privacy, doors, danger, or the concept of consequences. James followed instantly. Sirius followed because he was Sirius. Peter followed because being left behind was worse. Lily followed because someone had to witness the stupidity with a working brain. Mary and Alice followed together, whispering. Frank went because Alice did. Fabian and Gideon came because a mystery was practically a meal.
Remus came last.
Carefully.
Too carefully.
They gathered by the crack in the door and peered inside.
And then the corridor ceased to exist.
Regulus Black was alone in the empty classroom.
Not sitting properly, because apparently even chairs were suggestions to him. He was perched half-sideways on a desk near the middle of the room, one trainer braced against the chair below, the other foot tapping an impatient rhythm against the air. A battered electric guitar rested against him like it belonged there. Like it had been grown out of his ribs. A pen was tucked behind one ear, dark hair falling messily around it, and he wore a large hoodie that swallowed half of him, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, paired with little shorts that made his long, thin legs look even longer.
He was short. Painfully short, compared to most of the Gryffindors, and especially compared to Sirius, James, Frank, Fabian, and Gideon. But somehow that made the whole sight worse. More ridiculous. More unfair. He looked casual and sharp and entirely unaware of the fact he had just silently detonated twelve people in a corridor.
Sirius’s mouth dropped open.
James slowly leaned closer to the doorframe.
Peter’s eyes went huge.
Lily covered her mouth, not quite hiding her grin.
Mary mouthed, “Oh my God.”
Marlene looked like she had discovered buried treasure and intended to make it everyone’s problem.
Alice’s eyebrows rose so high they nearly became a separate facial feature.
Frank looked politely startled, which for Frank was basically screaming.
Fabian whispered, “That is baby Black?”
Gideon whispered back, “Apparently baby Black is in a band with his own bad decisions.”
Sirius turned on them with betrayal in every line of his face. “Don’t call him baby Black.”
Regulus, oblivious, dragged his pick down the strings with a rough, brilliant snap.
Then he sang.
“I woke up today,” he began, voice bright and biting and much better than anyone in the hallway was emotionally prepared for, “to ‘What’s it like third-wheeling in your own relationship?’”
Mary slapped both hands over her mouth.
James’s eyes nearly fell out. “Relationship?” he mouthed.
Sirius went completely still.
Lily’s gaze cut immediately to him.
Sirius did not look at her.
Inside the classroom, Regulus played a quick mocking riff, his mouth twisting like he was having an argument with an invisible idiot and winning through sheer venom.
“Let it go,” Regulus sang, lighter now, meaner, pitching the words as if he were imitating someone unbearably smug. “She’s just your girl best friend.”
Marlene’s head whipped toward Mary.
Mary’s head whipped toward Lily.
Lily’s head whipped toward Alice.
Alice’s head whipped toward Frank.
Frank looked terrified by the sudden responsibility of being included in a gossip circuit.
“Secret boyfriend,” Mary breathed.
“Secret boyfriend with a girl best friend,” Marlene whispered back, delighted and offended at once. “Oh, I’m invested.”
Sirius’s expression had darkened.
Remus’s hand had curled around the edge of the doorframe.
No one noticed except Lily, who glanced at his knuckles, then at his face, and very quietly stopped smiling.
Regulus bent over the guitar, fingers moving fast, clever and furious. He wasn’t singing sadly. Not really. It was too sharp for that. Too sarcastic. He looked annoyed. Self-mocking. Like the entire thing was hilarious specifically because it was awful, and because if he didn’t laugh, he might commit a crime.
“But I’m questioning how strong my patience is,” he sang, then snapped the next words out like an accusation thrown across a dance floor. “Tipsy touching at the dance.”
James inhaled through his teeth. “Oh, that’s bad.”
Peter whispered, “Maybe it’s metaphorical?”
Marlene gave him a look. “Peter.”
“What? Songs have metaphors.”
Regulus’s pick struck the strings hard.
“Could you keep it in your pants?” he sang, sweet as poison, then rolled his eyes at the ceiling as if personally disgusted with the entire male species. “You two showed up matching like you’ve been her man.”
Mary’s hand flew to her chest. “Matching?”
“That’s basically a confession,” Fabian muttered.
Gideon nodded gravely. “Straight to Azkaban.”
Frank frowned. “That’s not illegal.”
“It should be,” Alice said.
Frank looked at her in mild surprise.
Alice shrugged. “Emotionally.”
Sirius was staring at Regulus with an expression none of them saw on him often. Something stiff. Protective. Nearly angry, but not at Regulus.
“He’s dating someone?” Sirius whispered, mostly to himself.
James looked at him carefully. “You didn’t know?”
“No,” Sirius said.
That one word landed harder than expected.
Regulus changed chords. The sound turned lower, tighter, a little more breathless, like a joke being forced through gritted teeth.
“I say nothing and I go to bed,” he sang, looking down at the guitar now, lashes lowered, voice still steady, still sarcastic, “knowing if I did who you’d replace me with.”
Remus made a sound so quiet it was almost nothing.
Marlene heard it.
She looked at him.
Remus’s face was pale.
James whispered, “Moony?”
Remus didn’t answer.
Mary looked from Remus to Regulus and back again, and her eyes widened with the dangerous glow of someone watching a locked door suddenly crack open.
Inside, Regulus huffed a laugh at nobody, an ugly little self-deprecating sound, and sang in a bright, fake-helpful tone, “Don’t come off controlling. They’ll all call me crazy.”
Lily’s jaw tightened.
“Classic,” she whispered.
Alice nodded. “Horrible.”
Sirius’s shoulders rose slightly. “Who the hell is he dating?”
“Someone stupid,” James muttered.
“Someone blind,” Remus said.
The entire corridor turned to look at him.
Remus seemed to realise he had spoken aloud approximately three seconds too late.
Peter blinked. “What?”
Remus’s ears went pink. “I said what I said.”
Marlene slowly grinned.
Lily’s face softened into something almost knowing.
Sirius narrowed his eyes at Remus, then looked back through the crack, suspicion briefly wrestling with the larger emergency of his younger brother apparently having romantic drama and not telling him.
Regulus’s voice shifted again, quieter but still mocking himself viciously enough that it made Mary wince.
“Do you think that I’m boring?” he sang, almost conversational, almost laughing. “Is it a chore to date me?”
“Absolutely not,” Mary whispered instantly.
“No,” Marlene agreed, offended. “Look at him.”
Frank, trying extremely hard to be respectful, stared at the wall.
Fabian leaned around Gideon for a better look. “I mean, objectively, no.”
Sirius hissed, “Don’t objective my brother.”
Gideon lifted both hands. “We are observing respectfully.”
“You are ogling disrespectfully.”
“Can we do both?”
“No.”
Regulus didn’t hear any of it. He was deep in the song now, knee bouncing, shoulders moving with the rhythm. He looked alive in that private way people did when they thought nobody could see them. Annoyed and brilliant and messy, not polished like the Slytherin prince he usually pretended to be.
“I know she’s important,” he sang, the words sharp with forced reasonableness. “I hate ultimatums.”
The guitar snapped again.
“I just wish that you found me a bit as entertaining.”
Remus’s face did something complicated and quiet.
Lily saw it again.
James saw Lily see it.
James saw Remus.
James’s own face slowly became the face of a man watching three different disasters choose the same table in the Great Hall.
“Oh,” James breathed.
Sirius whipped around. “Oh what?”
“Nothing.”
“That was an oh.”
“It was a private oh.”
“There are no private ohs when my brother is singing about some idiot emotionally committing murder.”
Peter looked faintly overwhelmed. “I didn’t know songs could have this much evidence in them.”
“They’re basically diaries with better rhythm,” Mary said.
Regulus’s mouth curled, pretty and bitter.
“I don’t wanna judge her,” he sang, then gave a tiny shrug like he was absolutely judging her and knew it. “But I can’t be naïve.”
He leaned closer over the guitar, voice dropping into something sharper.
“When I see your initials hearted underneath her sleeve.”
Everyone reacted at once, but silently, which made the whole thing worse.
Mary’s eyes went enormous.
Marlene slapped Fabian’s arm.
Fabian grabbed Gideon.
Gideon mouthed, “Initials?”
Alice visibly bristled.
Frank’s eyebrows knitted together with genuine concern.
Peter looked scandalised in the purest possible way, like a grandmother at a wedding gone wrong.
James looked ready to start a war on behalf of someone who had once called him “Potter” like it was a disease.
Sirius looked murderous.
Remus looked like the words had gone through him.
“Initials,” Sirius whispered, dangerously soft. “Hearted.”
Lily muttered, “Under her sleeve is specific.”
“Too specific,” Marlene whispered. “That happened.”
Regulus hit the strings hard.
“Trust you? Yeah right,” he sang, laughing around the words. Not happy. Not sad. Just wickedly, knowingly done. “We all know that friends turn into lovers overnight.”
Remus’s fingers tightened again on the frame.
Sirius stared into the classroom. “Who is he?”
James was already mentally cycling through every boy Regulus had ever spoken to for more than four seconds. “Someone at school?”
“Obviously,” Mary whispered.
Regulus played a jagged riff that sounded like someone tripping down stairs elegantly.
“She’s ‘like a sister,’ ‘it’s business,’” he sang in a mocking imitation again, rolling his eyes so hard Sirius almost looked proud despite the fury. “You’ve got baggage only she can lift.”
Alice grimaced. “Oh, that excuse.”
Frank nodded slowly. “That sounds… bad.”
“Bad?” Marlene mouthed at him. “Frank, that sounds like someone needs punting into the lake.”
Frank considered this. “Also bad.”
“Let it go,” Regulus sang, brighter and nastier, turning the phrase into a blade. “You’re just her guy best friend.”
Mary whispered, “He rhymed the excuse back. That’s hot.”
Sirius glared.
Mary whispered, “Sorry. Respectfully.”
Regulus continued, “That all of her girls dare her to get with.”
“Her friends know,” Lily said softly, disgusted. “That makes it worse.”
“It makes it premeditated,” Alice said.
“Girls daring her to get with someone else’s boyfriend is low,” Marlene muttered. “That’s sewer behaviour.”
Peter looked pained. “Maybe they don’t know he’s taken?”
Every single person looked at Peter.
Peter winced. “Right. Sleeve initials. Never mind.”
The guitar went suddenly heavier.
Regulus sat up straighter, hair falling into his eyes, expression theatrical now, wicked with self-parody.
“You’ve got a hickey on your neck,” he sang, and Sirius made a strangled noise like someone had kicked him in the soul.
James clapped a hand over Sirius’s mouth before he could explode.
Regulus, unaware, sang on. “Could you be hiding it less?”
Mary’s mouth fell open.
Marlene was vibrating with rage and glee. “Oh, I hate him.”
“We don’t even know who him is,” Gideon whispered.
“I hate him spiritually.”
Regulus gave a sharp laugh and tilted his head, as if listening to some pathetic excuse replaying in his memory.
“Everyone assumes that I just got messy,” he sang, and his voice went bright with disbelief. “You claim it’s ‘just from a cooking wreck.’”
Fabian stared. “A cooking wreck?”
Gideon looked genuinely wounded. “That is the worst lie I’ve ever heard.”
Frank said, “How would cooking—”
Alice cut in, “It wouldn’t.”
Lily muttered, “It absolutely would not.”
James still had a hand over Sirius’s mouth.
Sirius was making muffled threats against unknown persons.
Regulus’s fingers slid down the neck of the guitar, quick and vicious.
“Who knew ‘dinner’ meant the outline of her lips?” he sang.
Sirius bit James’s palm.
James silently screamed and yanked his hand away.
“Sirius!”
“He deserves it,” Sirius hissed.
“I’m not the boyfriend!”
“You were in range!”
Remus did not laugh.
That was perhaps the most worrying thing of all.
Regulus kept playing, completely oblivious, still alone in the room with his battered guitar and his pen behind his ear, the afternoon light catching on his hair and the pale line of his legs below the huge hoodie.
“Don’t act like you’re jealous,” he sang, softer, mockingly reasonable again. “They’ll call you psychotic.”
Lily’s expression turned fierce. “Oh, I hate that.”
Mary nodded hard. “Same.”
Alice crossed her arms. “That’s always what people say when they know you noticed something.”
Frank glanced at her. “You sound experienced.”
“I’m observant.”
Marlene smiled. “That means yes.”
Regulus leaned forward, voice growing clearer, almost incredulous, as if even he couldn’t believe the absurdity of what he was saying.
“But I shouldn’t be wondering who you’ll go to the ball with.”
The corridor erupted into silent chaos.
Mary grabbed Lily’s sleeve.
Marlene grabbed Mary.
Fabian grabbed Gideon.
Gideon grabbed Peter for no clear reason.
Peter looked like a hostage.
James pointed violently into the room with both hands as if the line had physically confirmed three theories.
Alice mouthed, “The ball.”
Frank whispered, “So it’s definitely someone here.”
Sirius looked ready to storm in, and Remus immediately caught the back of his sleeve without even looking away from Regulus.
Sirius looked down at Remus’s hand.
Then slowly up at his face.
Remus released him like he had touched fire.
Sirius stared.
Remus stared through the door.
James looked between them again, absolutely delighted and terrified.
Inside, Regulus’s voice shifted into something sunnier and more poisonous than before.
“You say she’s relaxed, hey,” he sang, and gave the guitar a lazy little strum. “I can be laid-back, babe.”
Marlene whispered, “He is not laid-back.”
“He’s pretending to be laid-back,” Mary whispered. “That’s the point.”
“He looks like he’d hex someone for breathing wrong.”
Sirius muttered, “He has.”
James nodded. “He really has.”
Regulus’s grin sharpened.
“I’ll take it like a champ when she’s stabbing me in the back, wait.”
Alice’s nostrils flared. “No.”
Frank, gentle as ever, looked genuinely upset now. “He shouldn’t have to.”
Remus said, quiet but firm, “He knows.”
Everyone looked at him again.
Remus swallowed, eyes fixed on Regulus. “He knows he shouldn’t have to.”
The words sat there.
A secret inside a secret.
Lily’s expression softened again.
Sirius looked at Remus with the slow, dawning horror of an older brother realising his best friend might have feelings about his younger brother. Feelings. Actual ones. Possibly long-standing ones. Possibly the sort that explained why Remus always got weirdly quiet when Regulus entered rooms, and why he always pretended not to notice, and why he knew exactly when Regulus looked tired, annoyed, cornered, amused, hungry, or murderous.
Sirius mouthed, “You?”
Remus mouthed back, “Shut up.”
Sirius looked like his brain had just been thrown down seven staircases.
Regulus, entirely unaware of his brother having a crisis in the hallway, circled back into the refrain with a bite.
“I don’t wanna judge her,” he sang.
The guitar answered him, fast and cutting.
“But I can’t be naïve.”
He hit the next line harder, voice bright with frustration.
“When I see your initials hearted underneath her sleeve.”
Mary whispered, “I need to know the initials.”
“Same,” Marlene said.
“No,” Sirius snapped. “I need to know the initials.”
“That’s what we said.”
“You said it for gossip. I said it for murder.”
Frank cleared his throat quietly. “No murder.”
“Fine,” Sirius said. “Severe maiming.”
“Sirius.”
“Moderate maiming.”
Alice sighed. “We’re not negotiating maiming levels in a corridor.”
Fabian tilted his head. “I could be persuaded.”
Gideon nodded. “Emotionally, I’m already there.”
Regulus’s fingers flew, and for a moment nobody spoke because the music swallowed them. He really was good. Not decent. Not surprisingly good. Infuriatingly good. The kind of good that made it obvious this wasn’t something he had picked up yesterday. His hands knew exactly where to go. The guitar looked battered because it had been used, loved, fought with, maybe thrown once or twice. The song wasn’t borrowed. It sat too close to his skin.
He had written it.
That was the part that kept landing harder with each line.
Regulus Black, who looked at most people like they were poorly arranged furniture, had written this.
Made it funny. Made it mean. Made it clever.
Made it hurt without letting it become sad.
“Trust you? Yeah right,” he sang, fierce and mocking, chin lifting. “We all know that friends turn into lovers overnight.”
Peter exhaled. “That bit is catchy.”
Mary nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Lily said, “It’s horrible and excellent.”
James looked at Sirius. “Your brother is alarmingly talented.”
Sirius looked personally offended. “I know.”
“You knew he played guitar?”
“No.”
“You knew he sang?”
“No.”
“You knew he wrote songs?”
“No.”
“So what did you know?”
Sirius glared. “That he’s alarmingly talented. Keep up.”
Regulus played another riff, messier now, wilder, almost laughing through the strings.
“Yeah, we all know that friends turn into lovers overnight,” he sang, drawing it out with vicious cheer.
Remus stared like he couldn’t decide whether to be furious on Regulus’s behalf or utterly wrecked by him.
Marlene noticed again.
This time she elbowed Mary.
Mary followed her gaze, saw Remus, and nearly swallowed her own gasp.
“Oh,” Mary mouthed.
Marlene nodded slowly, eyes glittering.
Lily shot them both a look that said don’t.
Mary’s look replied, I absolutely will, but later.
Regulus’s voice turned suddenly brighter, almost conversational, and more dangerous for it.
“Friends to lovers, hey we were that too.”
The corridor froze again.
James whispered, “Oh, so the boyfriend was his friend first.”
“Keep up,” Mary hissed.
Peter looked stressed. “There are too many friends.”
Fabian began counting on his fingers. “Who does Regulus talk to?”
Sirius snapped, “Don’t list my brother’s options like suspects in a murder.”
Gideon said, “It sort of is a murder.”
“A romantic murder,” Fabian added.
Frank murmured, “That’s not comforting.”
Regulus sang the next line with a bitter little smile, eyes down, thumb brushing the strings between beats.
“Always swore it was platonic, ’til I wound up in your room.”
Marlene nearly made a noise.
Mary slapped a hand over Marlene’s mouth.
Sirius looked like he had seen the veil between life and death and intended to shove someone through it.
James whispered, “Sirius, breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re vibrating.”
“I’m breathing violently.”
Remus’s face had gone very still.
Alice glanced at him, then at Lily.
Lily gave the tiniest nod: yes, I see it too.
Regulus shifted his weight on the desk, one hoodie sleeve sliding down over his wrist. He shoved it back impatiently without missing a note. His trainers squeaked faintly against the desk chair below him. He looked untouchable and tiny and furious, like a prince of bad decisions holding court for ghosts.
“You’re just friends, hey lover, up and down you swore,” he sang, voice sugar-sweet and absolutely scathing.
Peter whispered, “I feel like I’m learning too much.”
“You are,” Lily said.
“But I can’t stop listening.”
“None of us can.”
Regulus’s mouth twisted.
“But she’s bolder, brighter,” he sang, and then, with a tiny scoff aimed entirely at himself, “nothing like the boy you’re calling yours.”
Remus flinched.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Sirius saw.
And whatever brotherly panic had been boiling in him shifted for half a second into something quieter. Not approval. Not yet. Sirius Black did not arrive at approval quickly, especially not when it involved Regulus and Remus and romance in the same sentence. But there was something else there. Recognition, maybe. The ugly, inconvenient kind.
Remus wasn’t gossiping.
Remus wasn’t entertained.
Remus was hurt because Regulus was hurt.
James saw Sirius see it and wisely said nothing, which was probably the most heroic thing he had done all week.
Inside, Regulus took a breath and went back in, more intense now, the song racing toward its end.
“I don’t wanna judge her,” he sang.
The guitar pulsed beneath his voice.
“But I can’t be naïve.”
Lily whispered, “He’s really good.”
It came out soft, almost reverent.
Mary nodded, eyes still wide. “Insanely.”
Marlene breathed, “I hate that he’s this cool. It’s inconvenient for my worldview.”
Sirius muttered, “Try being related to him.”
Regulus’s voice sharpened again.
“When I see your initials hearted underneath her sleeve.”
Alice shook her head, quietly furious. “That image is going to haunt me.”
“Trust you? Yeah right,” Regulus sang, louder now, sitting up fully, his whole body in it. “We all know that friends turn into lovers overnight.”
The last word cracked bright against the strings, not his voice breaking, but the music snapping open around him.
Remus looked wrecked.
James looked torn between teasing him forever and hugging him.
Peter looked like he had accidentally wandered into theatre.
Frank looked sincerely worried for a boy who had probably insulted him at least twice in passing.
Alice looked ready to have a stern conversation with an unnamed boyfriend and the entire concept of emotional negligence.
Mary looked like she needed parchment immediately to begin mapping the conspiracy.
Marlene looked like she might explode if not allowed to gossip within the next ten seconds.
Fabian and Gideon were exchanging increasingly dramatic facial expressions, apparently holding an entire silent courtroom trial between them.
Sirius looked like an older brother.
That was the worst and best of it.
Not a rebel. Not a drama queen. Not the boy who barked laughter across corridors and acted like nothing could touch him.
Just an older brother watching his younger brother sing alone in an empty classroom about someone making him feel replaceable, and not knowing what to do with his hands.
Regulus dropped his voice into something almost gleeful, eyes flashing.
“Yeah, funny how my intuition always turns out right!”
Mary pointed at him silently, mouthing, Exactly.
“I didn’t know ‘exclusive’ meant exclude me from your life, boy,” Regulus sang, and the word boy came out so cutting that James physically recoiled.
“Brutal,” James whispered.
“Deserved,” Lily whispered back.
“Very deserved,” Alice added.
“Violently deserved,” Marlene said.
“Legally deserved,” Fabian said.
“Historically deserved,” Gideon said.
Peter frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It felt right.”
Regulus drove into the final line like he was kicking down a door.
“We all know that friends turn into lovers overnight.”
The last chord rang out across the classroom.
Sharp.
Bright.
Furious.
Then it faded.
Regulus stayed still for a second, breathing a little harder, fingers resting on the strings to mute the last buzz of sound. His head bowed. The pen behind his ear had slipped slightly, caught in the mess of his hair. He looked at the guitar like it had personally betrayed him by existing.
In the corridor, nobody moved.
Nobody breathed properly.
Even Sirius was silent.
Regulus huffed under his breath, not quite a laugh, not quite anything else, and tapped the end of the pen against the guitar body like he was thinking. Still oblivious. Still alone. Still not knowing there were eleven Gryffindors stacked behind the door like the world’s least subtle emotional burglary.
Finally, Peter whispered, “So…”
Everyone turned on him in instant panic.
Peter lowered his voice even further. “Sorry. So who is it?”
That broke the spell.
Not loudly. Not enough for Regulus to hear. But the corridor came alive in whispers like a match catching.
“Someone on the Quidditch team?” James murmured.
“No,” Sirius said instantly.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know everything about everyone on the Slytherin Quidditch team now because I have decided to.”
Mary leaned closer to Lily. “Could be someone older.”
Lily frowned. “The ball line suggests someone at school.”
“Could still be older and at school.”
Marlene was practically bouncing. “Someone with a girl best friend. Matching outfits. Went to a dance. Has a hickey. Claims cooking accidents. Has initials someone hearted under her sleeve.”
Fabian nodded. “We need a chart.”
Gideon nodded too. “A wall. Red string. Interrogations.”
Frank looked alarmed. “No interrogations.”
Alice said, “Maybe mild interrogations.”
Frank gave her a betrayed look.
“What?” Alice whispered. “I said mild.”
Sirius was still staring at Regulus. “He didn’t tell me.”
The words were small in a way Sirius Black rarely allowed himself to be.
James softened at once. “Pads…”
“He tells me things,” Sirius said, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than anyone else. “Not everything. Obviously not everything. But he—” He stopped, jaw tight. “He should’ve told me if someone was making him feel like that.”
“He probably didn’t want you to kill anyone,” Lily said gently.
Sirius’s eyes did not leave the classroom. “That was wise of him. Ineffective, but wise.”
Remus, very quietly, said, “Maybe he didn’t want anyone to know he cared.”
Everyone went still again.
Regulus shifted inside the room, still on the desk, still looking down at his guitar. He plucked a single string, frowned, then scribbled something on his hand with the pen from behind his ear.
Marlene stared at Remus now with open fascination.
Mary looked like Christmas had come early and brought gossip wrapped in velvet.
James looked at his best friend with a mixture of shock, pity, and dawning mischief.
Sirius slowly turned his head.
Remus closed his eyes for half a second, clearly realising there was no escaping the enormous hole he had dug with one soft sentence.
“Moony,” Sirius whispered.
“No.”
“I haven’t asked anything yet.”
“You’re about to.”
“I am.”
“Don’t.”
James, because he was a menace and a best friend, leaned in. “How many years?”
Remus opened his eyes and glared. “I beg your pardon?”
Mary almost squeaked.
Lily pressed her lips together very hard.
Alice’s eyebrows climbed again.
Frank looked between everyone, lost but catching up.
Fabian mouthed, “Years?”
Gideon mouthed back, “Years.”
Sirius stared at Remus as if he had never seen him before. “Years?”
Remus looked like he wanted the floor to perform a mercy killing. “Keep your voice down.”
“Oh, I’m keeping my voice down,” Sirius hissed. “I am being heroic about my voice. I am a monument to restraint. Years?”
Remus’s jaw clenched.
That was enough.
James made a tiny victorious sound.
Lily closed her eyes as if asking patience from every saint known to wizardkind.
Marlene turned to Mary with a silent scream written across her whole face.
Mary grabbed Marlene’s sleeve and silently screamed back.
Peter whispered, “Wait, Remus likes Regulus?”
“Peter,” James whispered, “please arrive with the rest of the class.”
Peter looked wounded. “I was focused on the boyfriend mystery.”
“It’s all the boyfriend mystery now,” Fabian whispered. “There are layers.”
Gideon nodded solemnly. “Romantic geology.”
Frank, still attempting to remain decent, whispered to Remus, “Are you alright?”
That, somehow, made Remus look more exposed than all the teasing.
He glanced back through the crack.
Regulus had started playing again, but only softly, repeating one piece of the melody under his breath without singing. The sarcasm had dropped off him now that the performance was over. He looked thoughtful. Irritated with himself, maybe. Still not sad. Just caught in that embarrassing private aftermath of having turned feelings into noise and then having to sit with the silence afterwards.
Remus swallowed.
“I’m fine,” he said.
No one believed him.
Sirius looked back into the room too, and his face did something dangerously older-brother-shaped again. “Whoever it is,” he whispered, “is a dead man.”
Lily sighed. “Sirius.”
“Fine. A mildly inconvenienced man.”
“Sirius.”
“A severely emotionally educated man.”
Alice nodded once. “That one I support.”
Frank murmured, “Education is good.”
Marlene gave him an impressed look. “Frank, that was almost violent.”
He blinked. “Was it?”
“In your language, yes.”
Regulus plucked another string, grimaced, then muttered something they couldn’t hear. He tucked the pen properly back behind his ear and rubbed both hands over his face, the too-large hoodie sleeves falling over his fingers.
Mary made a strangled sound. “He’s tiny.”
Sirius pointed at her without looking. “Careful.”
“I mean emotionally tiny.”
“That’s worse.”
“I mean physically tiny but emotionally terrifying.”
“That’s accurate,” James whispered.
Remus’s mouth twitched despite himself.
Marlene saw and grinned like a wolf.
Sirius saw that too and looked deeply disturbed by the entire universe.
James leaned in close to Sirius and whispered, “You know, there are worse people.”
Sirius turned with glacial slowness. “Do not.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Do not just say.”
“Remus is very responsible.”
“James.”
“And tall.”
“Why would that help?”
James glanced at Regulus’s legs and immediately looked away as Sirius’s expression sharpened into murder. “No reason.”
Lily pinched the bridge of her nose. “You are all unbearable.”
Peter, still trying to help, whispered, “Maybe Regulus isn’t dating anyone anymore.”
That made everyone pause.
Inside, Regulus’s fingers began the opening riff again, but softer. Not performing now. Working. Testing it.
Sirius’s face tightened. “Maybe.”
Remus looked at the floor.
Mary looked like she might start chewing through the door just to ask questions.
Marlene whispered, “We still need to figure out who it was.”
Lily gave her a stern look. “We do not need to.”
“Yes, we do.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Lily, for justice.”
“For gossip.”
“Justice gossip.”
Alice tilted her head. “I do want to know.”
Frank stared at her. “Alice.”
“What? Not to do anything. Just… to know who’s been that stupid.”
Fabian nodded. “Exactly.”
Gideon held up a finger. “For the record, if someone had Regulus Black writing electric revenge songs in empty classrooms, they fumbled historically.”
James grinned. “Romantic geology and historical fumbling. You’re on fire today.”
“Thank you.”
Sirius inhaled slowly.
Then exhaled.
Then pointed at everyone in turn. James. Peter. Remus. Lily. Mary. Marlene. Alice. Frank. Fabian. Gideon.
“Nobody,” he whispered, “says a word.”
Marlene looked offended. “Define word.”
Sirius’s stare could have curdled milk.
She sighed. “Fine.”
Mary raised a hand slightly. “What about facial expressions?”
“No.”
“Notes?”
“No.”
“Interpretive dance?”
“Mary.”
“Right. No interpretive dance.”
James glanced at Remus. “What about silent yearning?”
Remus elbowed him hard.
James folded slightly, wheezing.
Sirius looked at Remus again, and for one strange second, the two of them stood there with Regulus’s half-finished melody humming through the door between them.
Sirius’s expression was still horrified.
Still protective.
Still very much processing the fact that his best friend had apparently been quietly, catastrophically fond of his brother for years.
But under all of it, there was something else.
A warning, maybe.
Or permission’s feral older cousin.
“If you hurt him,” Sirius whispered so quietly only Remus and James really heard it, “I’ll kill you first.”
Remus didn’t look away from the classroom.
“I know.”
James stopped smiling.
Because Remus didn’t say it like a joke.
Regulus struck a wrong note inside and hissed, “Oh, piss off,” at the guitar.
That broke something in the corridor.
Mary bit her fist.
Marlene’s shoulders shook silently.
Peter’s face collapsed into a grin.
Fabian had to turn around.
Gideon pressed his forehead to the wall.
Alice smiled despite herself.
Frank looked relieved to have something normal to react to.
Lily laughed silently, warm and fond and exasperated.
James beamed.
Sirius, despite everything, despite the secret boyfriend and the initials and the girl best friend and Remus’s long-buried romantic disaster blooming like cursed ivy beside him, smiled.
Just a little.
“That,” he whispered, “is my brother.”
Inside the classroom, Regulus Black, still completely unaware he had acquired an audience, adjusted the battered guitar on his lap, shoved his hair out of his face, and began picking through the song again from the top.
This time, the opening came smoother.
Still fast.
Still annoyed.
Still mocking.
Still brilliant.
The Gryffindors stayed exactly where they were, crowded around the crack in the door, saying nothing and everything with wide eyes and twitching mouths and silent accusations.
No one left.
No one even tried.
Because boredom had been murdered in the corridor.
And somewhere inside an empty classroom, Regulus Black kept playing like a secret with teeth.
For a few breathless seconds after Regulus started playing again, nobody moved.
The corridor had become less of a corridor and more of an extremely overcrowded crime scene. Twelve Gryffindors hovered around the open crack of the classroom door like a flock of badly behaved gargoyles, every single one of them now too invested to pretend they had dignity left.
Inside, Regulus Black sat alone on the desk, still completely unaware of them, one trainer tapping against the chair below him as he replayed the same jagged piece of melody under his breath.
He frowned at his guitar.
Then he muttered, “No. That sounds like shite.”
Sirius made a tiny, offended sound.
James glanced at him. “What?”
“He’s wrong.”
“You’re currently furious at him for having secrets and proud of him for guitar tone.”
“I contain multitudes.”
Regulus leaned over the guitar, plucked three strings, winced, and scribbled something on the side of his hand with the pen from behind his ear. His hoodie sleeve slipped down over his knuckles again. He shoved it up with his teeth without thinking.
Mary Macdonald inhaled very slowly through her nose.
“Oh, he’s dangerous,” she whispered.
Sirius pointed at her. “Stop noticing things.”
“I can’t. He’s doing them.”
“He’s my brother.”
“That doesn’t make him invisible.”
“It should.”
Lily Evans gave Sirius a flat look. “That is not how eyes work.”
Sirius ignored her because he had bigger emotional fires to throw himself into. He stared through the doorway at Regulus, jaw tight, eyes narrowed in that rare way that made him look more Black than Gryffindor. Not polished. Not cold. But sharp. Ancestral. The sort of expression that belonged in old portraits above fireplaces where people whispered about curses.
“Alright,” Sirius said quietly. “We need names.”
James’s face lit up with immediate, delighted horror. “I knew you’d come round to the investigation.”
“I have not come round to anything. This is not gossip. This is reconnaissance.”
Marlene McKinnon nodded gravely. “A noble mission.”
“Thank you.”
“Still gossip, though.”
Sirius glared.
Fabian Prewett leaned past Gideon, squinting into the classroom as if the answer might be written on Regulus’s forehead. “Could be a Slytherin.”
“Likely,” Gideon said.
“Could be a Ravenclaw.”
“Possible.”
“Could be a Hufflepuff.”
Everyone paused.
Peter Pettigrew blinked. “Can Hufflepuffs do that?”
Alice Fortescue whispered, “Peter.”
“I mean emotionally.”
Frank Longbottom, who had been trying very hard not to look like he was enjoying the drama, said, “Anyone can be awful.”
“See?” Lily said. “Frank gets it.”
Frank looked vaguely uncomfortable with being correct in a hallway full of emotional vultures.
Marlene tapped her fingers against her chin. “Right. Facts. He has a boyfriend, or had a boyfriend. The boyfriend has a girl best friend. The girl best friend wears something with the boyfriend’s initials hearted under her sleeve.”
Mary nodded quickly. “They showed up matching.”
“Tipsy touching at a dance.”
“Potential hickey evidence.”
“Claimed cooking injury.”
“Ball-related betrayal.”
“May or may not still be with him.”
James clapped a hand over his own mouth. “Merlin, this is excellent and terrible.”
“It’s not excellent,” Remus Lupin said.
Everyone turned.
Remus had been quiet for nearly half a minute, which with this group usually meant he was either exhausted, thinking, or actively swallowing a murder. Now, judging by his face, it was the last one.
His eyes were fixed on Regulus.
Not on the guitar. Not on the door. On Regulus.
The too-big hoodie. The little shorts. The careless pen behind his ear. The quick, irritated hands. The short, sharp little scowl whenever he got a note wrong.
Remus looked furious.
Not loud furious. That would have made sense. Sirius did loud furious like breathing. James did righteous furious like charging into battle with his glasses crooked. Marlene did furious like a firework lit at both ends.
Remus did fury quietly.
Which was infinitely worse.
“He made him write that,” Remus muttered.
Lily’s gaze flickered toward him.
Sirius slowly tilted his head. “What?”
Remus didn’t seem to hear him. Or perhaps he did and had simply reached the point where shame had lost the fight against outrage.
“Whatever idiot that is,” Remus said, voice low and rough, “he made Regulus sit in an empty classroom writing a song about being treated like he was optional.”
Mary’s eyebrows climbed.
Marlene’s mouth twitched.
James’s eyes widened with the shining terror of a man watching his best friend accidentally strip his soul bare in public.
Remus went on.
“He wouldn’t have to wonder with me.”
The corridor turned silent so violently it was almost audible.
Peter’s lips parted.
Frank blinked.
Alice’s face did something very careful and very interested.
Sirius stared.
James whispered, “Moony.”
Remus still didn’t look away from the classroom. “He wouldn’t.”
Sirius’s brows shot up. “He wouldn’t what?”
“Have to wonder,” Remus snapped, like Sirius was being deliberately stupid. “Who I’d go to the ball with. Whether I found him boring. Whether some girl was more entertaining. Whether I was hiding something. Whether ‘exclusive’ meant being excluded.”
Mary mouthed, Oh my God.
Marlene mouthed back, We are alive for this.
Lily pressed two fingers against her mouth, but her eyes were soft.
Remus took a small step closer to the door, his shoulder nearly brushing Sirius’s. He was still speaking low, but there was something gathering under it, something protective and hungry and horribly honest.
“I’d know better,” he muttered. “Anyone with eyes should know better. He likes quiet corners when rooms get too loud, but he hates being ignored. He acts like he wants people to leave him alone, but he doesn’t like being forgotten. He likes being spoken to like he’s clever, not fragile. He likes being challenged, not handled. He’d rather be teased than pitied. He pretends he hates attention, but only because most people give it badly.”
Nobody breathed.
Inside the classroom, Regulus plucked the opening riff again and nodded to himself, apparently pleased with one tiny correction.
Remus’s expression softened for half a second, and it was ruinous.
“He likes sharp things,” he continued, quieter. “Fast music. Dark corners. Old books that look like they might bite. He likes when people remember what he says the first time. He likes being given choices, even if he rolls his eyes at all of them. He’d like somewhere high up. Somewhere with wind. Somewhere private enough that he could complain without performing.”
James’s jaw had dropped.
Sirius looked like someone had hit him over the head with a chair labelled Your Best Friend Is Pathetically In Love With Your Brother.
Mary made a strangled noise behind Lily’s shoulder.
Marlene whispered, “This is insane.”
Fabian whispered, “This is beautiful.”
Gideon whispered, “This is legally insane and beautiful.”
Peter whispered, “Remus knows a lot about Regulus.”
Everyone looked at him.
Peter shrank. “What? He does.”
Remus finally seemed to realise he was speaking aloud.
His face went scarlet.
But he was too angry to retreat properly.
“And I wouldn’t let someone sit there thinking they were a chore to date,” he muttered, glaring at the floor now. “That’s just— it’s stupid. It’s cruel. He’s not easy, obviously, but he’s not boring. He’s—”
He stopped.
Sirius’s voice was dangerously quiet. “He’s what?”
Remus looked at him.
James visibly braced himself.
Remus’s jaw flexed. “Worth the effort.”
For one single second, nobody said anything.
Then Marlene whispered, “Werewolf mating instincts.”
Remus turned his head very slowly.
Marlene froze.
Mary clapped a hand over her own mouth.
Fabian made a tiny wheezing sound.
Sirius looked like he had been violently yanked out of brotherly horror and into pure entertainment against his will.
James’s face split into a grin. “Oh, that’s it.”
Remus’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”
“No, no,” James whispered, delighted. “That explains everything.”
“It explains nothing.”
“You went full guard dog.”
“I did not.”
“You literally growled.”
“I did not growl.”
Gideon lifted a careful finger. “There was a rumble.”
Remus turned on him. “There was not.”
Frank, unhelpfully honest, said, “There was a little bit of a rumble.”
Remus stared at him, betrayed. “Frank.”
Alice patted Frank’s arm. “He can’t lie. It’s part of his terrible charm.”
Mary leaned around Lily, eyes bright. “So is this a full moon thing or a Regulus thing?”
Remus lunged.
Not far. Not violently enough to hurt. But fast enough that Mary squeaked and ducked behind Marlene, and Remus grabbed James by the front of his robes instead because James was laughing closest.
“Say one more word,” Remus hissed, shaking him once, “and I will turn you into a cautionary tale.”
James, being shaken like a very cheerful rag doll, wheezed, “See? Mating instincts.”
The corridor exploded.
Sirius barked a laugh despite himself. Peter yelped because James’s elbow caught him. Fabian grabbed Gideon to avoid being knocked sideways. Gideon grabbed Frank. Frank grabbed Alice. Alice grabbed Lily. Lily grabbed Mary. Mary stumbled into Marlene. Marlene stepped back hard.
Her heel caught the edge of someone’s shoe.
“Shit—”
Marlene pitched sideways.
Peter tried to catch her and somehow caught only her sleeve.
Fabian tried to catch Peter.
Gideon tried to catch Fabian.
The entire chain reaction became a beautiful piece of physical comedy with absolutely no dignity.
Marlene slammed shoulder-first into the classroom door.
The door flew open.
Peter, still clutching her sleeve, lost his balance completely and hit the floor with a thud directly across the threshold.
Everyone froze.
The guitar stopped.
The world held its breath.
Regulus Black sat on the desk in the middle of the empty classroom, pick still between his fingers, guitar across his lap, pen behind his ear, hoodie falling off one shoulder, eyes wide and silver-sharp with shock.
Peter lay face-down on the floor.
Marlene stood half-collapsed against the doorframe.
Remus still had both fists twisted in James’s robes.
James was still grinning and slightly strangled.
Sirius stood beside them, caught between laughter, murder, and the absolute horror of being discovered spying on his baby brother’s private revenge-song rehearsal.
Lily slowly closed her eyes.
Mary whispered, “Oh no.”
Fabian whispered, “Nobody move.”
Gideon whispered, “Peter already did.”
Frank whispered, “Is he hurt?”
Peter lifted one hand weakly. “Only socially.”
Regulus stared at them.
They stared back.
Silence.
A deep, terrible, cathedral silence.
Then Regulus’s gaze dragged from Peter on the floor, to Marlene in the doorway, to James in Remus’s grip, to Remus’s red face, to Sirius.
His eyes narrowed.
“What,” Regulus said slowly, “the fuck.”
Sirius moved first.
Not sheepishly. Not apologetically. Not like a man who had been caught spying.
He stormed into the classroom like a thundercloud with hair, crossed the space between them in three furious strides, and grabbed Regulus by both upper arms.
Regulus made a tiny offended noise as Sirius hauled him off the desk and onto his feet.
The height difference was, unfortunately, ridiculous.
Sirius towered over him.
Regulus barely came up past his shoulder properly, all hoodie and sharp eyes and long pale legs, guitar strap slipping messily down one arm.
“Who is he?” Sirius demanded.
Regulus blinked. “What?”
“The boyfriend. The idiot. The matching outfit, hickey-neck, cooking-wreck, girl-best-friend bastard. Who is he?”
Regulus stared.
Everyone held their breath.
Because surely, surely, this was the moment Regulus would shut down.
He would go cold. He would get cruel. He would sneer at them for listening. He would rip Sirius apart for interfering. He would hex the lot of them into next week. He would turn all that embarrassment into venom and make the room regret having ears.
Instead, Regulus lit up.
Actually lit up.
His eyes widened, his mouth parted, and then his face transformed with such sudden delighted evil that James whispered, “Oh, that’s terrifying.”
Regulus grabbed Sirius’s arms right back.
“Finally,” he breathed.
Sirius blinked. “Finally?”
“Finally,” Regulus said again, louder, almost gleeful. “I was wondering when you’d stop being useless and ask.”
Sirius’s face went blank. “Excuse me?”
“You’re excused. Listen carefully.” Regulus shoved his guitar around his back like it was in the way of business and tightened his grip on Sirius’s sleeves. “Cassian Warrington. Slytherin. Seventh year. Tall, smug, thinks cheekbones count as a personality. They don’t. Terrible at Defence when it requires actual creativity, good at Potions if someone else labels everything first, left knee is weak from Quidditch last year, allergic to walnuts, hates anyone touching his hair, flinches if you feint right because he expects left, and if you want him to really panic, mention his father’s owl because apparently the man writes in red ink when he’s angry.”
The room went utterly still.
Sirius slowly smiled.
It was not a nice smile.
James whispered, “Oh my God.”
Mary whispered, “He came prepared.”
Lily whispered, “Of course he came prepared.”
Regulus shook Sirius’s arms urgently. “You need to break his nose.”
Sirius’s smile widened. “Do I?”
“Yes. At minimum. Bare minimum, Sirius. I’m being generous.”
“You are?”
“Exceptionally.” Regulus lifted one finger like he was presenting a formal academic argument. “Nose broken, one tooth knocked out if possible, hair pulled because he’s vain about it and it will upset him emotionally, and kick him in the dick at least once. Twice if you can get away with making it look accidental.”
Frank made a shocked sound.
Alice covered her mouth.
Marlene looked like she had fallen in love with the entire concept of revenge.
Peter, still on the floor, pushed himself up onto his elbows. “At least once?”
Regulus glanced down at him. “Don’t be weak, Pettigrew.”
Peter nodded quickly. “Right. Sorry.”
Sirius looked down at Regulus with the slow, dawning wonder of a man receiving divine purpose. “You want me to beat him up?”
Regulus’s expression turned deeply, theatrically sweet.
“If you feel like being the amazing, awesome, strong big brother that you are,” Regulus said, fluttering his lashes so obviously that Mary made a strangled noise, “and if you happen to feel generous, and brave, and handsome, and very loyal to your poor little brother who has suffered terribly—”
“You are laying it on disgustingly thick,” Sirius said.
“Is it working?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.” Regulus patted Sirius’s chest. “Then you could do more than the nose. In public, ideally. Somewhere crowded. I want witnesses. I want people to see him get folded. I want it to become a story people tell dramatically at dinner.”
James looked at Sirius. “Pads, I think your brother just assigned you a quest.”
Fabian nodded. “With objectives.”
Gideon added, “And optional bonus damage.”
Frank opened his mouth.
Alice touched his arm. “Don’t.”
Frank closed his mouth again, looking pained.
Regulus began pacing.
Or trying to.
Sirius was still holding him by the arms, so Regulus had to tug himself free first, which took a second because Sirius did not release easily.
“Let go, you great dramatic tree.”
“I am not a tree.”
“You’re tree-adjacent.”
“You’re pocket-sized.”
Regulus gasped. “I am a normal height.”
Everyone stared at him.
Regulus pointed viciously around the room. “Shut up, all of you.”
Nobody had spoken.
Remus, who had drifted into the room after everyone else, stood near the door looking at Regulus like he had personally invented moonlight, knives, and bad ideas.
Regulus didn’t notice.
He was too busy becoming evil.
“I already have the timing worked out,” Regulus said, pacing now, hoodie sleeves flapping slightly as he moved. “Wednesday after dinner, Slughorn will be in his office with the third-year essay disasters, McGonagall has patrol near the east staircase, Flitwick is doing choir nonsense, and Filch always checks the dungeons first because someone keeps putting soap in Mrs Norris’s water bowl.”
James slowly looked at Sirius.
Sirius slowly looked at James.
James whispered, “Someone?”
Sirius whispered, “Not the time.”
Regulus continued, fully animated now. “So if you catch Cassian near the courtyard passage, there’s a six-minute window where no professor will be nearby. Seven if Peeves is in a good mood and screaming near the library, which he usually is if someone tells him Filch polished the banister.”
Marlene whispered, “He has a schedule.”
Mary whispered, “He has a murder itinerary.”
“It’s not murder,” Regulus snapped without looking at them. “It’s correction.”
Lily said, “That is not better.”
“It’s funnier.”
Alice, who had clearly surrendered to curiosity, stepped further into the room. “And people won’t tell?”
Regulus grinned at her.
It was a terrible grin.
A beautiful, awful, aristocratic little slice of wickedness.
“Not if they already think he deserves it.”
Mary’s eyes gleamed. “Oh?”
Regulus turned to her like a professor delighted by a promising student. “Exactly.”
Sirius folded his arms. “What did you do?”
“What am I going to do,” Regulus corrected. “Important tense distinction.”
Remus murmured, “Clever.”
Regulus glanced at him briefly, blinked as if mildly surprised Remus existed, then immediately looked away again because the plot was more interesting than the tall, lovestruck werewolf two feet from him.
Remus visibly melted anyway.
Marlene saw.
Mary saw.
James saw.
Sirius saw and looked like he needed to sit down.
Regulus rubbed his hands together as he paced, actually rubbed them together, like a tiny villain rehearsing before a fireplace.
“I’ve already drafted anonymous notes,” he said. “Nothing too obvious. Just enough. ‘Isn’t it strange Cassian Warrington always borrows from younger students and forgets to return things?’ ‘Did you hear he cheated off Mulciber in Arithmancy?’ ‘Isn’t it embarrassing he told two people he was exclusive and neither of them were the same person?’”
Lily lifted a brow. “Did he?”
Regulus paused.
Then shrugged. “He could have.”
“That’s not the same as did.”
“It is once enough people repeat it.”
Frank looked faintly distressed. “That’s a rumour.”
Regulus smiled at him. “Yes, Longbottom. Well done.”
Frank blinked.
Alice coughed to cover a laugh.
Sirius looked deeply proud despite himself. “Letters to his parents?”
Regulus’s smile turned incandescent. “Already planned.”
James breathed, “Bloody hell.”
Regulus lifted his chin. “His parents are awful about reputation. Specifically his mother. She hates public mess. So they’ll receive a very concerned anonymous letter about how Cassian’s behaviour is becoming the subject of widespread discussion, and how everyone is wondering whether the Warrington family considers public humiliation and romantic sloppiness acceptable conduct.”
Sirius made a noise of pure admiration.
Regulus nodded graciously, accepting it.
“I’ll mention the hickey.”
“Good.”
“And the matching outfits.”
“Excellent.”
“And I may imply he was seen tipsy and handsy near respectable families.”
Lily’s mouth twitched. “May imply?”
Regulus looked at her. “Evans, please. I am an artist.”
Mary clutched Marlene’s arm. “I love him.”
Sirius pointed at her again. “No.”
“I love him platonically.”
“No.”
“I love his evil.”
Sirius paused. “Acceptable.”
Regulus turned back to Sirius, all bright-eyed wickedness. “And then, once his parents are already furious and everyone is already whispering, you hit him.”
Sirius inhaled like a man smelling fresh bread.
“Publicly,” Regulus stressed. “Not some pathetic hidden scuffle. I want it in front of people. I want him embarrassed. I want him bleeding on flagstones with everyone thinking, ‘Well, honestly, fair enough.’”
Remus, so quiet and fervent it was nearly religious, said, “He deserves worse.”
The room stopped.
Regulus turned toward him.
For the first time since the door had flown open, he properly looked at Remus.
Remus stood very close.
Too close, honestly.
He had moved across the room without anyone quite noticing, drawn into Regulus’s orbit like gravity had changed its mind. Regulus barely reached his chest, and the difference between them made Remus look even taller, broader in the shoulders, all quiet intensity and clenched jaw and eyes fixed on Regulus with the kind of focus that would have made anyone else self-conscious.
Regulus only blinked up at him.
Then nodded approvingly.
“Exactly, Lupin,” he said. “See? Sensible.”
Remus looked like he had just been blessed by a minor god.
James covered his mouth.
Marlene turned away, shoulders shaking.
Mary’s eyes watered with the force of not laughing.
Sirius looked like he might actually astral project.
Regulus, oblivious to all of this, pointed at Remus. “You’re tall.”
Remus straightened slightly. “Yes?”
“Good. Stand there.”
He pointed to a spot beside the desk.
Remus immediately moved there.
Everyone stared.
Regulus did not notice the obedience. He was already pacing again.
“Actually, no, stand closer.”
Remus stepped closer.
“Not that close, you’ll loom.”
Remus stepped back half an inch.
“Perfect.”
Remus’s face had gone soft in a way that was frankly embarrassing for everyone forced to witness it.
James whispered, “Whipped bastard.”
Remus glared at him.
Regulus glanced over. “What?”
James coughed. “Nothing.”
Sirius mouthed at Remus, You’re pathetic.
Remus mouthed back, I know.
Sirius looked horrified by the honesty.
Alice stepped forward, eyes bright with the sort of calm menace that always made people underestimate her right before they lost. “What about the girl?”
Regulus stopped pacing.
The entire room subtly shifted.
Mary and Marlene moved closer.
Lily crossed her arms.
Alice tilted her head.
Even Peter got off the floor properly and brushed himself down, interested despite himself.
Regulus smiled slowly.
“Cordelia Vane,” he said. “Ravenclaw. Sixth year. Pretty in that ‘I practise looking surprised in mirrors’ way. Laughs at everything Cassian says, even when he’s not funny, which is most of the time. Wears blue ribbons because she thinks it makes her look literary. Pretends to be everyone’s harmless darling. She is not harmless.”
Mary’s face sharpened. “Doing it on purpose?”
Regulus rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
Lily said, “How obviously?”
Regulus counted on his fingers. “One, she kept sitting on his lap at parties and saying there were no chairs. There were chairs. I counted them because I’m not stupid. Two, she borrowed his scarf during the Hogsmeade weekend and wore it for three days. Three, she drew his initials under her sleeve and showed them to her friends while pretending not to notice I was there. Four, she called me ‘sweet’ in that tone girls use when they mean ‘temporary obstacle.’ Five, she asked me whether I minded that she and Cassian had history.”
Marlene’s eyes went huge. “Oh, destroy her.”
Regulus beamed. “That’s what I said.”
Alice looked absolutely lethal in the neatest possible way. “Socially?”
“Socially,” Regulus agreed.
Frank looked quietly relieved.
Regulus added, “Mostly.”
Frank’s relief died.
Mary stepped up beside Alice. “What have you got?”
Regulus looked delighted to finally have an audience that understood the feminine arts of reputational warfare.
“Cordelia tells people she’s innocent because she’s never been officially caught doing anything,” he said. “So don’t say she did anything too dramatic. People won’t believe it. Make it smaller. Prouder. Meaner. Say she flirts with taken boys because single ones don’t make her feel chosen.”
Marlene’s mouth fell open in admiration.
Lily whispered, “That’s vicious.”
Regulus shrugged. “It’s true enough to stick.”
Mary nodded slowly. “It is.”
“Say she only wears the initials where people can accidentally see them because she’s desperate to be asked. Say she begged Cassian to match with her and then acted like it was a coincidence. Say she cried in the girls’ bathroom because he wouldn’t kiss her in front of his actual boyfriend.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Did she?”
Regulus waved a hand. “Emotionally, probably.”
Fabian whispered, “He’s terrifying.”
Gideon whispered, “I want him on our side forever.”
Sirius whispered, “He is never on anyone’s side forever. He visits.”
Regulus turned, still pacing, one hand tucked into the front pocket of his huge hoodie. “Also, if anyone mentions her blue ribbons, say you heard she wears them because Cassian once said blue suited someone else.”
Mary grinned. “Oh, that’s evil.”
“She’ll deny it too hard,” Regulus said. “That’s how people will know it bothers her.”
Marlene nodded. “We can work with that.”
Lily glanced between Mary, Marlene, and Alice. “I feel like I should stop this.”
Alice said, “You won’t.”
“No,” Lily admitted. “But I felt I should acknowledge the option.”
Regulus pointed at Lily. “You’re useful because people believe you’re morally sound.”
“I am morally sound.”
“Yes, yes, congratulations. Say one mildly disappointed thing about Cordelia in a crowded room and people will treat it as scripture.”
Lily blinked.
James whispered, “He’s not wrong.”
Lily sighed. “I hate that he’s not wrong.”
Remus, still standing exactly where Regulus had placed him, leaned down slightly. “What do you need me to do?”
The softness in his voice was a disaster.
Regulus tilted his head back to look at him properly.
Again, the height difference was ridiculous. Regulus had to tip his chin up; Remus had to lean down. Regulus looked like a dagger someone had wrapped in a hoodie. Remus looked like a guard dog trying very hard to sit politely because the small menace had told him to.
“Can you look intimidating without speaking?” Regulus asked.
Sirius made a choked noise.
James turned away completely.
Remus nodded seriously. “Yes.”
“Good. Do that near Cassian.”
“I can.”
“And if he says anything stupid, stand behind Sirius.”
“I can do that too.”
“And if he tries to leave before Sirius hits him?”
Remus’s expression darkened. “He won’t.”
Regulus stared at him.
Then grinned.
It was pleased and wicked and so completely unaware of the effect it had that Remus looked, for a second, like he might simply dissolve on the classroom floor.
“Excellent,” Regulus said. “You’re helpful.”
Remus swallowed. “Any time.”
Mary whispered, “Oh, this is humiliating.”
Marlene whispered, “For him or us?”
“Everyone.”
Sirius rubbed both hands down his face. “I need a drink.”
James patted his shoulder. “Your best friend wants to court your brother through intimidation services.”
“I heard that,” Remus said.
“You were meant to.”
Regulus, still oblivious, snapped his fingers at Sirius. “Focus.”
Sirius immediately focused.
Then looked furious with himself for doing it.
Regulus smirked. “Good boy.”
Sirius recoiled. “Do not call me that.”
James collapsed against a desk in silent laughter.
Peter wheezed.
Fabian and Gideon both made strangled twin noises.
Lily looked at the ceiling.
Alice bit her lip.
Frank looked confused but amused.
Remus, unfortunately, looked like he had briefly imagined Regulus saying that to someone else and needed to stare at the wall to survive.
Regulus clapped his hands once.
“Right. Cassian’s weaknesses. Nose, hair, left knee, family reputation, walnuts.”
Frank, despite everything, asked, “Walnuts?”
Regulus nodded. “Not to use. Just to know.”
“Why would we need to know?”
“Information is comforting.”
“That’s not usually what people mean by comforting.”
“It is what I mean.”
Sirius leaned against the desk, arms folded, gaze locked on Regulus. “And you’re not still with him?”
Regulus stopped.
For a second, his face flickered.
Not sad.
Not crushed.
Just offended by the memory of having tolerated someone unworthy for longer than five minutes.
Then his upper lip curled.
“Absolutely not.”
The room exhaled all at once.
Remus looked down, jaw tight, relief flashing across his face so quickly only Lily, James, and Sirius caught it.
Sirius’s shoulders dropped a fraction. “You broke up with him?”
Regulus sniffed. “Obviously.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Sirius’s eyes sharpened. “Yesterday?”
Regulus waved that away. “Don’t get sentimental. It ruins your face.”
“I am not sentimental.”
“You look like a grieving horse.”
“I do not.”
“You do. A very dramatic grieving horse.”
James whispered, “He does.”
Sirius shot him a look.
James immediately studied the wall.
Regulus continued, chin high. “I broke up with him after he told me Cordelia needed him more than I did because she was fragile.”
Mary’s mouth opened.
Lily’s eyes flashed.
Alice’s entire body seemed to still.
Marlene said, “Oh, I’m going to end her.”
Regulus pointed at her approvingly. “That’s the spirit.”
Frank rubbed a hand over his face. “Fragile.”
Gideon looked disgusted. “That word should be illegal in romance.”
Fabian nodded. “Always a bad sign.”
Peter said, “So he picked her?”
Regulus’s smile turned thin. “He tried to pick both. I removed the option.”
Remus murmured, “Good.”
Regulus glanced up at him again, pleased. “Exactly.”
Remus looked like he would follow him into a burning building if Regulus described it as a fun little errand.
Sirius stepped closer, voice dropping. “Did he hurt you?”
Regulus rolled his eyes. “No.”
“Reg.”
“He annoyed me.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Regulus looked at him for a beat.
And there they were suddenly, under all the comedy and venom: brothers. Sirius too tall and too intense. Regulus too proud and too sharp. Both of them built from the same dark wood, the same stubborn blood, the same ridiculous inability to be normal about affection.
Regulus’s mouth twisted.
“He made me look stupid,” he said finally.
Sirius’s expression went cold.
Regulus looked away first, annoyed at having said even that much. “So now I’m going to make him look worse.”
Sirius nodded once. “Done.”
Regulus looked back up.
Sirius smiled at him.
Regulus smiled back.
It was horrible.
It was identical.
James whispered, “Oh, they’re terrifying together.”
Lily nodded. “Very.”
Mary whispered, “I understand so much about the Black family suddenly.”
Marlene whispered, “And yet not enough.”
Regulus turned back to the girls. “Cordelia first, though. Cassian’s easy. Hit him, shame him, let his parents finish the job. Cordelia needs finesse.”
Alice nodded seriously. “Social isolation?”
“Reputation rot,” Regulus corrected. “Slow enough that she can feel it happening.”
Marlene placed a hand over her heart. “Poetry.”
Mary leaned in. “We start with the ribbons.”
“Yes,” Regulus said. “Then the initials. Then the lap-sitting. Then the idea that Cassian only kept her around because she was convenient and available.”
Lily frowned slightly. “That last one might make people pity her.”
Regulus paused.
Then looked delighted. “Evans, that was good.”
Lily blinked. “Thank you?”
“No pity, then. Make it that she thought convenience was romance.”
Marlene pointed at him. “Better.”
Mary nodded. “Much better.”
Alice added, “And if she tries to act above it, someone can say she’s only calm because she already got what she wanted.”
Regulus clasped his hands together beneath his chin. “Fortescue.”
Alice smiled faintly. “Black.”
Frank stared at his girlfriend like he was both impressed and afraid.
Fabian leaned toward Gideon. “Alice is terrifying.”
Gideon whispered back, “Frank is into that.”
Frank went pink. “I can hear you.”
“Good,” said Fabian.
Regulus paced again, faster now, gleeful and vicious, the guitar bumping against his back with each turn. “We’ll need timing. Not all at once. That’s amateur work. Mary, you and Marlene start the social thread. Alice, you sharpen it. Lily, you look disappointed at strategic intervals.”
Lily sighed. “Apparently I’m a weapon now.”
“You always were,” James said fondly.
Lily looked at him. “Don’t make that sound romantic while we’re planning social sabotage.”
James grinned. “Can’t help it. You’re terrifying.”
“Thank you.”
Regulus pointed at James. “You.”
James straightened. “Me?”
“Yes. You’re loud. Accidentally say something where people can hear.”
“I can do accidentally loud.”
Sirius snorted. “It’s his main skill.”
Regulus pointed at Peter. “You look harmless.”
Peter blinked. “I do?”
“Yes. Use that. Ask innocent questions.”
Peter looked both flattered and alarmed. “What kind of questions?”
“‘Oh, I thought Cassian and Regulus were together?’” Regulus said, imitating him badly. “‘Oh, was Cordelia the girl with his initials on her arm?’ ‘Oh, I didn’t know matching outfits meant nothing.’ Things like that.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “That sounds dangerous.”
Regulus smiled. “Only if you do it well.”
Peter swallowed. “Right.”
Remus leaned slightly toward Regulus. “I can stay near him.”
Peter perked up. “Please.”
Regulus waved a hand. “Fine. Lupin babysits Pettigrew.”
Remus nodded at once. “Done.”
Sirius stared at him.
Remus ignored him.
James whispered, “He’s not even pretending.”
“No,” Sirius said faintly. “He’s gone.”
Regulus pointed at Fabian and Gideon. “You two. You can repeat things in separate places and make it sound like everyone knows.”
Fabian slowly smiled. “We can do that.”
Gideon matched him. “We can absolutely do that.”
Frank looked concerned. “This is becoming organised.”
Alice patted his arm. “It was organised before we got here, darling.”
Regulus turned to Frank. “You’re honest.”
Frank sighed. “Yes.”
“Good. If anyone asks you directly, look uncomfortable and say you don’t want to get involved.”
Frank frowned. “But that’s true.”
“Exactly. People will assume you know something horrible and are too decent to say.”
Frank stared.
Alice nodded. “That would work.”
Frank looked even more concerned. “I don’t know how I feel about being strategically decent.”
“You’ll be wonderful,” Alice told him.
Frank softened immediately. “Alright.”
Marlene whispered, “Whipped.”
Alice glanced at her. “Careful.”
Marlene grinned. “Respectfully whipped.”
Regulus came to a stop in the middle of them all, short and bright-eyed and buzzing with wicked purpose, rubbing his hands together again.
“Perfect,” he said. “Cassian ruined publicly. Cordelia dismantled socially. Sirius commits brotherly violence. Lupin looms. Girls whisper. Potter shouts by accident. Pettigrew asks stupid questions. Prewetts multiply rumours. Longbottom morally radiates suspicion. Evans disapproves with devastating consequences.”
There was a pause.
James said, “That is the best team assignment I’ve ever received.”
Sirius looked at Regulus with open pride now. “You really are my brother.”
Regulus sniffed. “Unfortunately.”
Sirius grabbed him suddenly and yanked him into a rough hug.
Regulus made a furious strangled noise.
“Get off.”
“No.”
“Sirius.”
“My poor evil baby brother.”
“I will bite you.”
“You used to do that.”
“I still can.”
“You’re tiny.”
“I’m concentrated.”
Remus said, too softly, “He is.”
Sirius’s head snapped up over Regulus’s hair.
Regulus, squished against Sirius’s chest and fighting for dignity, did not notice.
James nearly passed away.
Mary and Marlene clung to each other in silent hysterics.
Lily’s face went very pink from trying not to laugh.
Alice looked like she was filing all of this away for later.
Frank looked between Remus and Regulus, then quietly, finally understood. His mouth formed a small, silent oh.
Peter whispered, “Oh.”
Fabian whispered, “Welcome.”
Gideon whispered, “You’re late, but welcome.”
Regulus shoved Sirius hard enough to escape, though only because Sirius let him. He stumbled back, fixed his hoodie with great wounded dignity, and glared.
“You’re all awful.”
“You love me,” Sirius said.
“I tolerate your usefulness.”
“You asked me to beat someone up for you.”
“Yes, and if you do well, I may upgrade you to beloved sibling.”
Sirius placed a hand on his heart. “I’m honoured.”
“You should be.”
Remus moved automatically when Regulus stepped back, as if making sure he didn’t trip over the guitar cable curled near the desk.
Regulus glanced down, saw the cable, stepped over it, then looked up at Remus.
“Good catch.”
Remus’s ears turned red. “It was nothing.”
Sirius mouthed, pathetic, again.
Remus looked at him with murder in his eyes.
Regulus, still utterly blind to the romantic catastrophe standing above him, turned to collect his guitar properly. “Right. I need parchment.”
Remus instantly reached toward the nearest desk and grabbed a sheet.
“And ink.”
Remus found an ink bottle.
“And someone move that chair.”
Remus moved the chair.
“And my pen—”
Remus had already picked it up from where it had fallen and offered it to him.
Regulus took it without even looking surprised. “Useful.”
Remus looked like the word had fed him for winter.
James bent double.
Lily muttered, “This is almost painful.”
Mary whispered, “Almost?”
Marlene whispered, “I’m in agony.”
Sirius looked heavenward. “Why is my life like this?”
Regulus spread the parchment across the desk and began scribbling, still talking, still plotting, still evil down to his bones. “We need names of anyone Cordelia’s annoyed recently. Girls preferably. Boys if they’re petty enough. Ravenclaws are useful because they pretend to be above gossip while archiving it mentally for sport.”
Alice stepped beside him. “I know a few.”
Mary leaned in on his other side. “Same.”
Marlene squeezed between them. “I know everyone petty enough.”
Lily hesitated, then sighed and stepped closer too. “I know who not to involve. Some people will make it messy.”
Regulus looked genuinely impressed. “Evans, you may be better at this than I expected.”
Lily lifted a brow. “I choose to take that as a compliment.”
“It was one.”
“Concerning.”
Regulus smirked. “Most good compliments are.”
Remus stood behind him, close and looming exactly as instructed, looking over his shoulder with absolutely no subtlety. Regulus barely reached his chest, and every time Regulus shifted back, his shoulder nearly brushed Remus’s jumper. Remus did not move away once.
Sirius watched this with mounting spiritual damage.
James sidled up beside him. “So.”
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You breathed in a tone.”
James grinned. “A tone?”
“A very smug tone.”
“Do you think Regulus will notice?”
Sirius looked at Regulus, who was currently ordering Remus to hold the ink steady while he wrote because “you’ve got bigger hands and I’m busy,” and Remus was doing it like a knight entrusted with a holy relic.
Sirius closed his eyes.
“No,” he said. “Apparently not.”
Peter edged closer to the desk. “What if Cassian apologises?”
Regulus didn’t look up. “He won’t.”
“But if he does?”
Regulus paused his writing.
He considered.
Then smiled.
“If he apologises before Sirius hits him, Sirius hits him after.”
Sirius nodded. “Fair.”
“If he apologises after Sirius hits him, Sirius hits him again.”
Frank winced. “Regulus.”
Regulus looked at him. “What?”
“That’s a lot of hitting.”
Regulus shrugged. “He has a lot to learn.”
Remus said, “Some people are slow.”
Regulus pointed his pen at him without looking. “Exactly. Lupin understands.”
Remus looked stupidly pleased again.
Marlene whispered, “At this point, it’s performance art.”
Mary whispered, “No, performance art requires awareness.”
James whispered, “This is natural disaster.”
Fabian whispered, “Romantic weather event.”
Gideon whispered, “Severe simp warning.”
Sirius muttered, “I hate all of you.”
Regulus suddenly looked up. “What are you all whispering about?”
Every single person answered at once.
“Nothing.”
“Planning.”
“Cassian.”
“Cordelia.”
“Weather.”
“Homework.”
“Crime.”
“Justice.”
Regulus stared.
Then narrowed his eyes.
“You’re all terrible liars.”
Lily smiled sweetly. “And yet you’ve recruited us.”
“Yes,” Regulus said. “Because terrible liars are still useful if pointed in the right direction.”
James saluted. “Point me, tiny general.”
Regulus threw the pen cap at his face.
James dodged, laughing.
Sirius grinned. “Good shot.”
“I wasn’t aiming properly,” Regulus said. “If I were aiming, he’d be blind.”
Frank murmured, “Comforting.”
Alice smiled at him. “You’ll get used to it.”
Remus leaned down slightly toward Regulus again. “Do you want the guitar moved?”
Regulus glanced back. “No. Stay there.”
Remus stayed.
James made a strangled sound.
Regulus looked up sharply. “Potter, are you ill?”
James coughed into his fist. “Terminally entertained.”
“Tragic. Die quietly.”
Sirius barked a laugh.
Regulus’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.
For a moment, the whole room shifted again. Less like a conspiracy. More like a classroom full of teenagers who had accidentally crashed into something private and turned it into group warfare because none of them knew how to be normal about care.
Regulus stood at the centre of it, sleeves too long, shorts too short, guitar battered, pen returned behind his ear, eyes bright with revenge.
Sirius stood beside him, already planning violence with the focus of a man studying for exams he actually cared about.
The girls clustered around the parchment, sharpening rumours into weapons.
James watched everything with wild delight.
Peter looked nervous but included.
Frank radiated reluctant decency.
Fabian and Gideon quietly debated phrasing.
And Remus stood close behind Regulus like a shadow with teeth, utterly gone, completely devoted, and apparently prepared to loom on command for the rest of his life if Regulus so much as crooked a finger.
Regulus tapped the parchment with his pen.
“Right,” he said. “From the top. Cassian Warrington gets ruined first.”
Sirius cracked his knuckles.
Mary grinned.
Marlene bounced on her heels.
Alice’s smile turned sharp.
Lily sighed like a person pretending not to enjoy herself.
Frank looked heavenward for mercy.
Fabian and Gideon leaned in.
Peter swallowed.
Remus looked down at Regulus and said, softly, fiercely, “Anything you want.”
Regulus, still completely oblivious, smiled like a villain in miniature.
“Good,” he said. “Because I want blood.”
Sirius’s grin matched his exactly.
The room, as one, accepted that boredom was dead.
And Cassian Warrington, though he did not yet know it, was already doomed.
Lily Evans had never considered herself a villain.
Strategic, yes.
Sharp, absolutely.
Capable of reducing James Potter to a stuttering mess with one eyebrow, naturally.
But not a villain.
Villainy felt like something that required capes, dramatic lighting, and a frankly exhausting commitment to monologuing. Lily preferred efficiency. Lily preferred clean edges. Lily preferred letting idiots walk directly into traps they had personally mistaken for doorways.
And currently, standing in an empty classroom full of Gryffindors, one furious Black brother, one tiny plotting Black brother, and one visibly besotted Remus Lupin, Lily Evans had the sudden, crystal-clear thought that she could fix at least three problems with one very elegant suggestion.
The first problem: Cassian Warrington deserved to suffer.
The second problem: Regulus Black wanted revenge, which meant he was currently willing to listen to almost anything framed as tactical cruelty.
The third problem: Remus Lupin looked like he would let Regulus order him to walk barefoot across broken glass if Regulus called it “useful.”
Lily looked at Remus.
Remus was still standing behind Regulus, exactly where Regulus had placed him, one hand hovering near the desk as if ready to catch anything Regulus might drop, including but not limited to parchment, ink bottles, dignity, or his own entire soul.
Regulus, meanwhile, was hunched over the revenge parchment, pen in hand, muttering to himself.
“Cassian hates looking jealous,” Regulus said, scribbling viciously. “Thinks it makes him look common. Which is hilarious, because everything about him looks common if you stare long enough.”
Sirius snorted. “That’s my boy.”
Regulus didn’t look up. “Don’t call me that.”
“My venomous little gremlin?”
“I’ll stab you.”
“My darling baby serpent?”
“Sirius.”
“My precious criminal?”
Regulus paused, considered, then said, “Tolerable.”
James Potter laughed so hard he had to lean against a desk.
Peter Pettigrew looked between the brothers with the wide-eyed expression of someone slowly realising that all Black family affection seemed to involve threats, insults, and occasional legal concerns.
Marlene McKinnon was watching Regulus write like she wanted to frame the parchment.
Mary Macdonald was watching Remus watching Regulus, which was infinitely more entertaining.
Alice Fortescue had quietly taken over organising the rumour strategy with terrifying calm, while Frank Longbottom stood at her shoulder wearing the expression of a good man who had accidentally married into chaos ahead of schedule.
Fabian and Gideon Prewett had stolen the back corner of the parchment and were writing potential whisper-campaign phrasing in two different handwritings so it looked more “organic.”
And Lily, bright-eyed and suddenly inspired, smiled.
Not warmly.
Not sweetly.
A smirk.
James noticed immediately.
“Oh no,” he whispered.
Lily glanced at him. “What?”
James pointed at her face. “That.”
“What?”
“That face.”
“I have a face.”
“That specific face. That is the face you make before something terrible happens to someone deserving.”
Mary turned sharply. “Wait, Lily has an idea?”
Marlene perked up. “A good one?”
Lily folded her arms. “I have a practical suggestion.”
Sirius narrowed his eyes. “That sounds worse.”
Regulus finally looked up from the parchment. His hair was mussed from where Sirius had hugged him too aggressively, the pen behind his ear was slipping again, and his hoodie sleeve had fallen over his writing hand like the world’s least threatening villain cloak.
“What practical suggestion?” he asked.
Remus also looked up.
Unfortunately for everyone with eyes, he looked up at Lily only briefly before immediately looking back at Regulus.
Lily’s smirk deepened.
“Well,” she said, very lightly, “if the aim is to make Cassian jealous before Sirius publicly rearranges his face—”
“Beautiful sentence,” Fabian murmured.
“Truly elegant,” Gideon agreed.
“—then rumours might not be enough,” Lily continued.
Regulus tilted his head. “Go on.”
Lily chose her words with the care of someone placing a knife exactly where it would catch the light.
“Cassian already thinks he can make you jealous with Cordelia. So the easiest way to wind him up would be proving you moved on first.”
The room stilled.
Remus stopped breathing.
James’s grin began spreading slowly, dangerously, like sunrise over a battlefield.
Sirius’s eyes flicked from Lily to Remus to Regulus and widened in immediate horror. “Evans.”
Lily ignored him.
Regulus blinked. “Moved on.”
“Yes.”
“With who?”
Lily shrugged with the casual innocence of someone absolutely committing a crime. “Someone believable.”
Mary’s hand flew to her mouth.
Marlene’s eyes went enormous.
Alice looked at Lily, then at Remus, then at Regulus, and the tiniest smile appeared.
Frank looked confused for three seconds.
Then Frank looked at Remus.
Then Frank understood.
“Oh,” Frank whispered.
Peter whispered, “Oh no.”
Fabian and Gideon slowly leaned forward in perfect synchronisation.
Sirius hissed, “Lily.”
“What?” Lily said. “It’s tactical.”
“It is not tactical. It is matchmaking with explosives.”
“It can be both.”
James whispered, awestruck, “I love you.”
Lily pointed at him without looking. “Not now.”
James looked delighted anyway.
Regulus, tragically, gloriously, catastrophically oblivious, was already considering the suggestion as if it were a military proposal. He tapped the pen against his bottom lip, eyes narrowing.
“Someone believable,” he repeated.
Remus looked like he had been turned into a statue and cursed to remain conscious.
Mary seemed moments from combusting.
Marlene had both hands clasped under her chin.
Sirius looked like he wanted to tackle Lily through a wall and also reluctantly admired the brutality of the manoeuvre.
Regulus’s gaze moved around the room.
James immediately lifted both hands. “Don’t look at me. I’m married in spirit, if not paperwork, and Evans would hex my eyebrows off.”
“Correct,” Lily said.
Regulus’s gaze skipped Peter, who looked terrified.
Frank lifted both hands too, despite not being considered. “Alice.”
“I know,” Regulus said, offended. “I’m evil, not stupid.”
Alice smiled politely. “Thank you.”
Fabian and Gideon both opened their mouths.
Regulus pointed at them. “Absolutely not. Nobody would believe I chose one of you.”
Fabian put a hand to his chest. “Wounded.”
Gideon nodded. “Deeply.”
“You’ll live.”
Regulus’s eyes finally landed on Remus.
Remus, somehow, managed to look both enormous and cornered.
Regulus stared up at him.
Remus stared down at Regulus.
The room collectively stopped pretending not to watch.
Regulus slowly smiled.
Remus nearly died.
“Lupin,” Regulus said.
Remus’s voice came out rough. “Yes?”
Regulus’s smile sharpened. “You’re perfect.”
James made a strangled sound.
Sirius whispered, “I’m going to be sick.”
Mary whispered, “I’m going to be delighted.”
Marlene whispered, “I’m going to remember this forever.”
Lily looked unbearably pleased with herself.
Regulus turned fully toward Remus, suddenly animated, eyes bright and wicked. “Cassian would hate you.”
Remus blinked. “Would he?”
“Obviously. You’re tall.”
Remus blinked again. “That’s the reason?”
“One of the reasons.”
Sirius muttered, “Oh, Merlin.”
Regulus began pacing again, circling Remus now like he was inspecting a weapon. “You’re tall, quiet, clever, annoying in that way where people assume you know more than them and they’re usually right, which Cassian would hate. Also, you’ve got that whole tragic scholarly thing going on.”
Remus’s lips parted. “Tragic scholarly?”
“Don’t look pleased. It wasn’t praise.”
“It sounded like praise.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It did, though.”
Regulus narrowed his eyes.
Remus wisely shut his mouth.
Regulus continued, tapping the pen against his palm. “You’re also in Sirius’s circle, which makes it worse because Cassian hates Gryffindors but especially hates Gryffindors who don’t chase attention. If I turned up with Potter, he’d call it desperate. If I turned up with you, he’d have to wonder when that happened.”
Lily leaned against a desk, smiling faintly. “Exactly.”
“And,” Regulus added, warming to the idea, “you’re annoyingly good-looking in a neglected library sort of way.”
Remus stared.
James slapped a hand over his own mouth.
Peter’s eyes went round as coins.
Mary’s mouth fell open.
Marlene turned violently into Alice’s shoulder.
Alice’s lips twitched.
Frank looked directly at the ceiling with the determined focus of a man trying not to witness someone’s soul leaving their body.
Sirius made a noise like a dying kettle. “Regulus.”
Regulus looked at him impatiently. “What?”
“You can’t just say things like that.”
“Why? It’s relevant.”
Remus was very red now.
Regulus, unbelievably, noticed only enough to misinterpret it.
“Oh, don’t get awkward. It’s fake,” Regulus said briskly, patting Remus’s chest with the back of his hand. “You’ll survive.”
Remus looked down at the place Regulus had touched him.
Then back at Regulus.
Then somewhere slightly past reality.
“I’ll do my best,” he said faintly.
James whispered, “He won’t survive.”
“He’s already dead,” Mary whispered.
“Buried,” Marlene agreed.
“Flower arrangement pending,” Fabian added.
Gideon nodded. “Something tasteful. Moon-themed.”
Sirius rounded on them. “Stop funeral-planning my best friend while he emotionally drools over my brother.”
Regulus blinked. “What?”
“Nothing,” Remus, James, Lily, Mary, Marlene, Alice, Frank, Peter, Fabian, Gideon, and Sirius all said at once.
Regulus stared at them.
“You’re all getting weirder by the minute.”
Lily smiled. “So, fake dating.”
Regulus snapped his attention back to her. “Yes. Brilliant. We’ll need to be convincing.”
Remus swallowed audibly.
Sirius dragged both hands through his hair. “No. No, absolutely not. I don’t like this.”
“You don’t have to like it,” Regulus said. “You have to hit Cassian.”
“I can do that without watching Moony paw at you.”
Remus choked. “I wouldn’t—”
Regulus waved a hand. “He’ll have to a bit.”
Sirius looked personally wounded. “Regulus.”
“What? PDA is the point. Cassian has to see it. He has to think I’ve moved on and upgraded.”
Remus’s eyes darkened.
“Upgraded,” he repeated quietly.
Regulus glanced up. “Yes. Try to keep up.”
Remus’s mouth curved, slow and helpless. “I’m trying.”
Mary made a sound so high and faint only Marlene heard it.
Marlene gripped Mary’s arm like she was anchoring herself to earth.
Lily watched the entire thing with the satisfaction of an archer watching an arrow fly exactly where she aimed.
Regulus began ticking points off on his fingers. “We need hand-holding. Sitting together. Maybe leaning. You’re good at looming, so that helps. Some possessive hovering. Looks. Whispering. Probably kissing.”
Remus stopped functioning.
The word hit the room like a thrown brick.
Sirius said, “No.”
Regulus said, “Yes.”
Sirius said, “No.”
Regulus said, “It has to be convincing.”
Sirius pointed at Remus. “He can convince from a respectful distance.”
Regulus scoffed. “Nobody’s jealous of respectful distance.”
James murmured, “He’s not wrong.”
Sirius whipped around. “You are meant to be on my side.”
James gave him a sympathetic look. “I am. But he’s objectively correct, and Lily started this, so emotionally I’m powerless.”
Lily smiled sweetly.
Sirius pointed at her. “You are a menace.”
“Yes.”
Regulus nodded. “A useful one.”
“Thank you,” Lily said.
Remus had still not moved.
Regulus turned to him, frowning. “Lupin.”
Remus blinked. “Yes?”
“You’ve gone stiff.”
James muttered, “That’s one word for it.”
Lily elbowed him.
Regulus ignored them. “If we’re doing this, we have to know if it’ll look awkward.”
Remus’s throat bobbed. “Right.”
“Cassian isn’t stupid enough to miss awkward.”
Sirius muttered, “Debatable.”
Regulus stepped closer to Remus.
Remus looked down at him.
The height difference became absurd all over again. Regulus barely came up to Remus’s chest, standing there in his oversized hoodie and little shorts and trainers, looking like a pocket-sized catastrophe with aristocratic cheekbones. Remus towered over him in a way that would have looked intimidating if his expression hadn’t gone soft and dazed the moment Regulus got close.
Regulus frowned thoughtfully.
“We should test it.”
The room went silent.
Remus whispered, “Test it.”
“Yes.”
Sirius stepped forward. “Reg—”
Too late.
Regulus reached up, grabbed the front of Remus’s jumper in both hands, and tugged.
Remus bent automatically.
Regulus rose onto his tiptoes, wrapped both arms around Remus’s neck, and kissed him.
The classroom detonated without making a sound.
James grabbed Sirius by the back of his robes.
Sirius’s mouth fell open in a perfect silent scream.
Peter slapped both hands over his eyes and immediately parted two fingers.
Mary clutched Marlene so hard Marlene squeaked.
Marlene looked like someone had just handed her a prophecy and a front-row seat.
Alice’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t look away.
Frank turned bright red and looked away, then looked back by accident, then looked away again.
Fabian and Gideon grabbed each other in mirrored horror-delight.
Lily smiled like a saint with blood on her hands.
And Remus—
Remus lasted approximately one stunned second.
One second of complete shock, body frozen, hands hovering in mid-air as Regulus kissed him like it was a practical experiment.
Then he melted.
Completely.
It was almost embarrassing how fast it happened.
A low sound caught in his throat, half groan, half surrender, and his hands came down to Regulus’s waist, then tightened. He pulled Regulus in sharply until their bodies pressed together, hoodie crushed between them, guitar strap slipping further down Regulus’s back.
Regulus made a small surprised sound into the kiss.
Remus took that as encouragement, because apparently his brain had become a candle in a hurricane.
He bent lower, one arm wrapping more securely around Regulus’s back, the other hand sliding to brace him at the hip as he tipped him backward slightly. Not far. Just enough that Regulus’s grip around his neck tightened and his trainers squeaked against the classroom floor.
“Merlin,” Remus muttered against his mouth, voice wrecked and warm and completely gone. “That’s— yeah. Good. That’s good, cariad. Just like that.”
Regulus kissed him again, sharper this time, apparently deciding that Remus was committing to the bit with admirable skill.
Remus made another helpless sound.
Sirius looked like he had been stabbed in every possible feeling.
James had both arms around Sirius now, holding him back with the focus of a man restraining a wild animal.
“Pads,” James whispered desperately. “Don’t kill him. He’s doing great.”
“He is eating my brother’s face.”
“Reg started it.”
“That is not helping.”
Mary whispered, “Oh my God, Remus is gone.”
Marlene whispered, “Gone? He’s in another country.”
Fabian whispered, “Another realm.”
Gideon whispered, “A romantic afterlife.”
Peter whispered, “Should we stop them?”
Lily, still smiling, said, “Absolutely not.”
Alice glanced at her. “This was your plan.”
“Yes.”
“It’s working.”
“Beautifully.”
Frank made a strained sound. “I think it’s working too much.”
Remus’s hand slid lower, over the side of Regulus’s hoodie toward his thigh, careful but unmistakably preparing to lift him, as though some ancient instinct had decided the height difference was inconvenient and needed solving immediately.
Regulus’s arms tightened around his neck.
Remus murmured, breathless, “Could pick you up. Make it easier. You’d look so good like that, sweetheart. Clever thing. Perfect.”
Regulus broke the kiss before Remus got the chance.
Remus followed for half an inch, dazed, then stopped himself.
Regulus rocked back onto his heels, still gripping Remus’s shoulders, hair mussed, lips flushed, eyes bright.
For half a second, everyone waited for realisation to strike him.
It did not.
Instead, Regulus smirked.
“Oh, this is going to be easy.”
Remus blinked at him, visibly trying to remember language.
“Easy,” he repeated.
Regulus looked utterly delighted. “You’re a fantastic actor.”
Somewhere behind them, James made a strangled noise that sounded like a laugh dying in a pillow.
Sirius slowly turned his head toward Lily with the kind of betrayal usually reserved for family curses.
Lily looked innocent.
Remus stared down at Regulus.
“Actor,” he said faintly.
Regulus patted his chest again. “Very convincing. The groaning was a nice touch.”
Remus’s soul visibly left his body.
Mary turned into Marlene’s shoulder and silently screamed.
Marlene was crying with laughter and making no noise.
Alice pressed her knuckles to her mouth.
Frank was red to the ears.
Peter looked deeply impressed and deeply confused.
Fabian whispered, “He thinks that was acting.”
Gideon whispered, “This boy could miss a dragon in his bedroom.”
Sirius whispered, “That’s my brother.”
James patted his shoulder. “He’s concentrated.”
“Don’t use his words against me.”
Regulus turned away from Remus and clapped his hands once, already back in planning mode. “Right. That works.”
Remus remained exactly where he was, still slightly bent forward, still staring at Regulus like he had personally rearranged the stars.
Regulus began pacing again.
Remus followed.
Not consciously.
Not gracefully.
He just drifted after him, pulled along as if Regulus had a leash wrapped around his ribs.
Regulus grabbed the parchment. “We’ll need to do it in public once before Cassian sees, otherwise it’ll look sudden.”
Remus moved behind him.
Close.
Very close.
Regulus didn’t notice until Remus’s arms slid around his waist from behind.
Everyone noticed.
Sirius’s eye twitched.
Regulus glanced down at Remus’s hands splayed across his stomach, then back at the parchment. “Good. Yes. Like that. Very natural.”
Remus lowered his head to Regulus’s neck.
James stopped breathing from the force of not laughing.
Remus kissed the side of Regulus’s jaw, soft and lingering.
Regulus made a thoughtful noise. “That might be a bit much for a first sighting.”
Remus murmured against his skin, “Just getting into character.”
Regulus nodded seriously. “Good. Commitment matters.”
Lily looked like she might actually ascend.
Mary whispered, “He’s committing, alright.”
Marlene whispered, “He has committed. Past tense. Fully committed. No trial.”
Remus pressed another kiss just beneath Regulus’s ear, then one lower, near his neck, still hunched over him because Regulus was so much shorter.
“Beautiful,” Remus murmured, barely above a breath. “So clever. So wicked, bachgen hardd. You have no idea, do you?”
Regulus frowned at the parchment. “No idea about what?”
Remus smiled helplessly against his neck. “Nothing.”
Sirius pointed at Remus, voice strangled. “I heard that.”
Regulus glanced up. “He’s acting.”
Sirius stared at him. “Is he?”
“Yes. Stop being weird.”
James whispered, “I am going to die.”
Lily whispered back, “Hold on a little longer.”
Regulus shifted the parchment, and Remus shifted with him, arms still locked around him. One hand stayed spread against Regulus’s stomach, broad and warm over the hoodie. The other found Regulus’s hand where it held the pen.
Remus’s fingers slid around his.
Regulus glanced down.
His hand looked almost ridiculous in Remus’s. Slim, pale, half-covered by his sleeve; Remus’s hand nearly swallowed it whole.
Regulus’s brows lifted.
Remus stared at their hands with open delight, thumb brushing over Regulus’s knuckles as if he had discovered treasure.
“That’s useful,” Regulus said.
Remus’s voice came out soft. “Mm?”
“The size difference. Cassian will hate it.”
Remus smiled dopily. “I like it.”
Regulus smirked. “Good. Use that.”
“I will.”
Remus lifted Regulus’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
Regulus blinked.
Everyone else lost their minds silently.
Mary bit down on her sleeve.
Marlene covered her face.
Alice turned away with a laugh she couldn’t fully hide.
Frank looked like he had wandered into a private chapel during a wedding.
Peter whispered, “That was smooth.”
Fabian nodded solemnly. “He found his calling.”
Gideon whispered, “Hand-kissing service.”
Sirius looked ready to combust. “Moony.”
Remus looked over Regulus’s shoulder, his chin nearly brushing Regulus’s hair. “What?”
“That is my brother.”
“I know.”
“You’re cuddling my brother.”
“I know.”
“You’re kissing my brother’s hand.”
Remus glanced down at Regulus’s hand still held in his own.
Then he kissed it again.
Regulus looked pleased, mistaking the entire thing for dramatic dedication.
Sirius made a noise of pure anguish.
James grabbed him again, just in case.
Regulus waved Sirius off with the pen. “Relax. He’s in character.”
Remus’s arms tightened very slightly.
“Very in character,” he murmured.
Then, softer, in Welsh, close against Regulus’s jaw, “Duw, dw i’n dy garu di. Mor brydferth. Mor boeth. Fy nghariad bach i.”
Regulus tilted his head slightly because Remus’s breath tickled his neck. “What was that?”
Remus kissed the side of his throat. “Practice.”
Regulus nodded. “Good idea. Cassian won’t understand Welsh.”
“No,” Remus said, smiling in a haze of hopeless devotion. “He won’t.”
James’s eyes were wide. “Do you understand Welsh?” he whispered to Sirius.
“No,” Sirius whispered back.
“Does Reg?”
“No.”
“What did Moony say?”
Sirius stared at Remus’s face. “Something disgusting.”
“It sounded romantic.”
“That’s what I said.”
Lily’s smile softened despite herself. There was something almost painfully sweet about Remus like this, all the restraint and careful quiet burned away by one kiss he had never expected to get. He looked younger and older at once, dazed with want, helpless with affection, and still trying to be useful because Regulus had asked him to be.
Regulus, naturally, was busy drawing arrows on the parchment.
“First sighting should be lunch,” Regulus said. “Not breakfast. Nobody looks romantic at breakfast.”
Remus kissed his jaw again. “You would.”
Regulus rolled his eyes. “Don’t improvise too much.”
“That wasn’t improvising.”
Regulus hummed, not listening properly. “Lunch, then. I sit near you.”
“On me,” Remus suggested, a little too quickly.
The room died.
Regulus paused.
Sirius choked.
James’s face went purple.
Mary sank slowly against Marlene.
Marlene whispered, “He said that out loud.”
Alice’s eyes widened.
Frank whispered, “Remus.”
Peter looked fascinated.
Fabian and Gideon exchanged the kind of look that meant they would be repeating this forever.
Regulus considered the suggestion.
“Too much for lunch,” he said at last. “Maybe later.”
Remus’s eyes fluttered shut for half a second.
“Later,” he echoed.
Sirius wheezed, “Absolutely not later.”
Regulus turned in Remus’s arms to glare at him, which only made the position worse because now he was facing Remus while still held close, head tipped back, Remus’s arms around his waist.
“Sirius, do you want revenge or not?”
“I want revenge without my best friend melting onto you like hot wax.”
Regulus blinked.
Then looked up at Remus.
Remus attempted to arrange his expression into something neutral.
He failed spectacularly.
Regulus narrowed his eyes. “You are very committed.”
Remus nodded. “Yes.”
“To the role.”
Remus paused.
James, Lily, Mary, Marlene, Alice, Frank, Peter, Fabian, Gideon, and Sirius all watched the pause happen in real time.
Remus said, “Yes.”
Regulus smiled, satisfied. “Excellent.”
Sirius muttered, “I hate everything.”
Lily said lightly, “Regulus, you’ll want the affection to look comfortable, not staged. Cassian has to believe it’s been going on long enough that you’re used to each other.”
Regulus nodded at once. “Exactly. Evans, you’re wasted on Potter.”
James pointed at himself. “Rude.”
Lily smirked. “Not inaccurate.”
James looked wounded and proud.
Regulus turned back around in Remus’s arms, fully allowing him to stay draped over him now as if Remus were a cloak with opinions. “So. Comfortable. Touching without looking like we’re thinking about it. That’s good. Cassian always looked too pleased with himself when Cordelia touched him, which means he was hoping I’d notice. Amateur.”
Remus’s jaw tightened against Regulus’s temple. “He wanted to hurt you.”
Regulus shrugged. “He wanted attention.”
“Same thing, sometimes.”
Regulus went briefly still.
Then he glanced back, studying Remus’s face.
For a dangerous second, everyone thought he might finally see it. The softness. The fury. The longing. The way Remus held him like he was something precious and dangerous at once.
But Regulus only smiled, sharp and approving.
“You’re good at this.”
Remus looked down at him with a ruined little smile. “Only with you.”
Regulus scoffed. “That’s the sort of line we need. Remember that.”
Remus’s mouth curved. “I won’t forget.”
Marlene whispered, “He’s going to kill me.”
Mary whispered, “Regulus?”
“Remus.”
“Both.”
Alice folded her arms, eyes dancing. “The trick is going to be stopping Cassian from believing it too well.”
Lily gave her a sideways look. “Is it?”
Alice’s smile deepened. “No.”
Frank looked at Alice. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
Regulus pointed at Alice. “Fortescue, you’ll manage the girls’ angle while Remus and I do visible romantic devastation.”
Remus’s head dropped slightly onto Regulus’s shoulder.
“Romantic devastation,” he repeated dreamily.
Regulus patted his arm. “Yes, that. Keep up.”
Sirius looked at James. “He’s broken.”
James nodded. “Shattered.”
Peter said, “But helpful.”
Sirius pointed at Peter. “Not another word.”
Peter nodded quickly.
Regulus shifted, trying to reach the ink, and Remus immediately passed it to him before he could ask.
Regulus took it. “Good.”
Remus nuzzled briefly into his neck.
Regulus glanced back. “What are you doing?”
“Character work,” Remus said.
“Fine. But don’t smudge the ink.”
“I won’t.”
“Or breathe in my ear while I’m writing. It tickles.”
Remus’s voice dropped. “Does it?”
Regulus froze for exactly one heartbeat.
Then frowned. “Yes.”
Remus smiled against his skin. “Sorry, darling.”
Regulus blinked at the pet name.
Mary physically grabbed Lily’s wrist.
Lily looked delighted.
Sirius whispered, “Darling?”
James whispered, “It’s character work.”
“I will character-work him through a window.”
Regulus shook his head like he was clearing it and went back to writing. “Darling is good. Cassian hates old-fashioned pet names. Makes him feel less interesting.”
Remus kissed just below Regulus’s ear again. “What about sweetheart?”
“Fine.”
“Cariad?”
“Welsh?”
“Yes.”
“Good. He won’t know what it means, but he’ll know it means something.”
Remus’s smile went soft and devastating. “It means love.”
Regulus nodded, scribbling. “Useful.”
Remus closed his eyes.
James turned into Sirius’s shoulder, shaking with silent laughter.
Sirius shoved him off. “Don’t laugh on me.”
James wheezed, “He said it means love and Reg said useful.”
“That is very Regulus,” Sirius muttered, pained.
Regulus glanced over again. “What are you idiots doing?”
“Nothing,” James said brightly.
“Stop doing it loudly.”
Remus’s hands settled again, one on Regulus’s stomach, the other still wrapped around his smaller hand whenever Regulus paused writing. Every so often, Remus would lift it, compare their fingers with that dazed, private delight, then press another kiss to Regulus’s knuckles like he couldn’t help himself.
Regulus tolerated it with increasing smugness because every kiss, every touch, every stupidly soft look from Remus seemed to convince him further that their fake-dating revenge scheme was going to be spectacular.
“He’ll be furious,” Regulus said, grinning down at the parchment. “Cassian already hated that I talked to you once.”
Remus’s eyes sharpened. “When?”
Regulus waved vaguely. “Library. Months ago. You handed me a book.”
Remus remembered.
Of course he remembered.
He remembered the exact book, the exact table, the way Regulus had looked half-starved for sleep and entirely unwilling to accept help from anyone. He remembered Regulus taking the book without saying thank you, then muttering the correction to a translation under his breath like a gift accidentally dropped.
Remus had thought about it for three days.
“He noticed that?” Remus asked.
Regulus smiled. “He noticed everything he thought made him look less important.”
Remus’s arms tightened.
Regulus tapped his wrist. “Good. Possessive. Use that.”
Remus breathed a laugh into his hair. “I can do possessive.”
Sirius said sharply, “Not too possessive.”
Remus looked at him over Regulus’s head.
For a moment, the room remembered exactly what Remus was. Not because he looked monstrous. He didn’t. He looked gentle, flushed, hopeless. But there was something under his eyes, something old and watching, something that did not appreciate the idea of Cassian Warrington ever having made Regulus feel unwanted.
“Only if he deserves it,” Remus said.
Sirius stared at him.
Then, slowly, reluctantly, he nodded.
Regulus missed the entire exchange because he was adding stars next to the phrase public romantic devastation.
“Right,” Regulus said. “We need an entrance.”
Mary leaned forward. “For lunch?”
“Yes. We don’t just arrive. We arrive.”
Marlene grinned. “I love when evil has theatre.”
Regulus pointed at her. “Exactly. Theatre. Remus, you walk in first.”
Remus shook his head. “No.”
Regulus blinked. “No?”
The room went quiet.
Remus looked down at him, face soft but voice suddenly certain. “You walk in first. I follow you.”
Regulus stared.
Remus brushed his thumb over Regulus’s stomach through the hoodie, gentle and grounding. “You’re the one he has to look at. You’re the one who moved on. You’re the one who decides where to sit, who to touch, when to smile. I don’t lead. I stay close enough that he knows you chose me.”
The silence changed.
Even Sirius stopped looking horrified for a second.
Lily’s expression softened, pleased in a quieter way now.
Regulus looked up at Remus for a beat too long.
Then his lips curled.
“That,” he said, “was excellent.”
Remus’s face warmed. “Yeah?”
“Yes. Very convincing.”
Remus laughed softly, helplessly.
Regulus turned to the parchment and wrote something down. “Use that tone again.”
“I wasn’t using a tone.”
“You were. It was good.”
Remus kissed his temple. “Anything you want, little prince.”
Regulus’s pen stalled.
Sirius made a noise like his brain had caught fire.
Mary whispered, “Little prince.”
Marlene mouthed, Dead.
Fabian whispered, “Welsh wolf has lines.”
Gideon nodded. “Unexpectedly lethal.”
Frank whispered to Alice, “Are we sure this is fake?”
Alice smiled. “Regulus is.”
Frank considered that. “Ah.”
Regulus cleared his throat and kept writing, but there was a tiny flush high on his cheekbones now.
Remus saw it.
Remus absolutely saw it.
His smile went soft and stupid and awestruck.
Sirius saw that too.
He pointed warningly. “Moony.”
Remus did not look away from Regulus. “I know.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“Yes, I do.”
Regulus looked between them with narrowed eyes. “Are you two having one of your strange Gryffindor silences?”
James nodded. “Constantly.”
“Stop. It’s unsettling.”
Lily pushed off the desk and moved closer, looking over the parchment. “So lunch entrance, close sitting, casual pet names, hand-holding. One kiss where Cassian can see.”
Remus’s entire body seemed to respond to the phrase one kiss.
Regulus nodded briskly. “Yes. Not too much. Enough to make him feel stupid.”
Mary grinned. “And Cordelia?”
Regulus’s grin matched hers. “She sees too.”
Marlene rubbed her hands together. “Beautiful.”
Alice said, “Cordelia will hate that Remus isn’t reacting to her.”
Remus frowned. “Why would I react to her?”
Regulus turned in his arms just enough to look up. “Exactly.”
Remus stared down at him.
Regulus smiled, pleased.
Remus bent before he could stop himself and kissed him again, brief but soft, right at the corner of his mouth.
Regulus blinked.
Sirius lunged.
James grabbed him.
“Sirius, no.”
“He kissed him again.”
“It was tactical.”
“It was mouth-adjacent.”
Regulus touched the corner of his mouth, then smirked. “That was good. Unexpected. Cassian will hate unexpected.”
Remus looked intoxicated. “I can be unexpected.”
“I’m noticing.”
Lily bit back a laugh.
Peter whispered, “Is Remus still acting?”
Everyone looked at him.
Peter winced. “Sorry.”
Regulus frowned. “Of course he is.”
Sirius stared at the ceiling as if begging it to collapse.
Remus tucked his face back into Regulus’s neck, hiding a grin there. “Of course.”
Then, quieter, in Welsh, “Dw i wedi bod yn dy garu di ers blynyddoedd, cariad. Ti’n fy lladd i.”
Regulus squirmed slightly. “That one sounded longer.”
Remus pressed a kiss beneath his jaw. “Complicated character work.”
“Translate.”
“No.”
Regulus twisted to glare up at him. “No?”
Remus smiled.
It was gentle.
It was fond.
It was the sort of smile that made Lily’s smirk soften and made James go very quiet.
“No,” Remus said again. “Not yet.”
Regulus stared at him.
Then, instead of being offended, he looked intrigued.
“Interesting.”
Sirius whispered, “I’m going to bite through wood.”
James whispered, “Please don’t. We need the desks.”
Regulus turned back to the parchment, but the flush on his cheekbones had not fully gone away.
Remus noticed that too.
He looked utterly, completely ruined by it.
Mary leaned close to Marlene. “Regulus is doomed.”
Marlene shook her head. “Remus is doomed.”
Alice smiled. “They’re both doomed. Regulus is just late.”
Frank nodded slowly. “That sounds right.”
Fabian whispered, “Should we tell him?”
Gideon looked horrified. “And ruin this?”
“Fair.”
Lily cleared her throat lightly. “The important thing is that Cassian believes it.”
Regulus nodded. “He will.”
Remus’s arms tightened around him, chin resting lightly near his shoulder, eyes half-lidded and warm.
“He will,” Remus agreed.
Sirius gave him a warning look.
Remus gave him one back, calm and unrepentant.
Regulus looked down at the parchment one last time, then smiled that wicked little smile again.
“Good,” he said. “Then we’ll make him jealous, humiliate him, ruin his reputation, destroy Cordelia socially, send his parents into a spiral, and then Sirius can break his nose.”
Sirius nodded. “Perfect.”
Mary nodded. “Perfect.”
Marlene nodded. “Perfect.”
Alice nodded. “Efficient.”
Frank sighed. “Concerning.”
Peter said, “Organised.”
Fabian said, “Iconic.”
Gideon said, “Educational.”
James said, “Romantic.”
Everyone turned to him.
James smiled innocently. “What? I meant for the plan.”
Lily rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
Regulus, somehow still oblivious while wrapped in Remus Lupin’s arms like the centrepiece of a lovesick shrine, looked utterly delighted.
“This,” he said, “is going to be brilliant.”
Remus kissed the side of his neck again, soft and reverent.
“Brilliant,” he murmured. “Just like you, cariad.”
Regulus waved him off without looking, smug as anything. “Excellent acting.”
Remus smiled against his skin.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Acting.”
Across the room, Sirius covered his face.
James patted his back.
Lily looked deeply satisfied.
Mary and Marlene clung to each other in silent hysterics.
Alice watched with bright, knowing eyes.
Frank smiled despite himself.
Peter looked between everyone and seemed to decide, wisely, not to ask another question.
Fabian and Gideon were already planning how to retell this later in three different versions, each worse than the last.
And Regulus Black stood in the middle of it all, short and wicked and flushed and entirely unaware that his fake boyfriend had stopped being fake roughly one second into the kiss.
Remus, still wrapped around him, looked like he had found religion.
Unfortunately for Cassian Warrington, that religion appeared to be revenge.
Remus Lupin was getting worse.
There was no kinder way to put it.
At first, everyone had been able to pretend he was merely committed. A little intense, perhaps. A touch too convincing. The sort of convincing that made James Potter bite his fist, Sirius Black develop a visible twitch, and Lily Evans look like she had committed a charitable crime and was now watching it bloom.
But now?
Now Remus had gone beyond committed.
Now Remus had crossed the border, burned the map, and built a small cottage in the country of Completely Gone.
He stayed wrapped around Regulus from behind as if he had forgotten he had ever existed as an independent person. One arm was locked low around Regulus’s waist, the other hand still covering Regulus’s smaller one whenever he paused over the parchment, thumb brushing back and forth over his knuckles with helpless, reverent delight.
Regulus, tragically, remained mostly oblivious.
Mostly.
He was getting suspicious, but only in the way a cat got suspicious of a closed door. Not enough to understand the full architecture of the situation. Just enough to narrow his eyes occasionally.
Remus dipped his head again, pressing another slow kiss against the side of Regulus’s neck.
Regulus twitched. “Lupin.”
“Mhm?”
“That is the fourth time.”
“Fifth,” James whispered.
Mary elbowed him.
Remus smiled against Regulus’s skin, voice lower than before. Deeper. Rougher. Like something had slipped loose in him and was now prowling around unsupervised.
“Dim ond ymarfer, cariad,” he murmured. “Ti’n rhy brydferth i beidio â chyffwrdd.”
Regulus frowned. “You keep doing that.”
Remus kissed just beneath his jaw. “Doing what?”
“Welsh.”
“Character work.”
Sirius made a strangled noise from across the room. “I swear to Merlin, if I hear the words character work one more time—”
“Character work,” Remus said, without looking at him.
Sirius lunged.
James and Fabian both grabbed him.
“Pads,” James hissed, laughing and panicked at once, “do not wrestle the werewolf while he’s in whatever this is.”
Remus’s eyes flicked over.
Dark.
Sharp.
Hungry in a way that made the entire room go abruptly still.
James’s grin faltered.
Fabian let go of Sirius with extreme care.
Gideon whispered, “That was not a normal look.”
Peter whispered, “That was a forest look.”
Frank whispered, “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Peter said. “But I stand by it.”
Regulus glanced back at Remus, more curious than alarmed. “Are you glaring at them?”
Remus’s expression softened instantly when Regulus looked at him.
“No.”
“You are.”
“Only a little.”
“Good,” Regulus said, pleased, turning back to the parchment. “Use it on Cassian.”
The name Cassian landed in the room like a spark dropped into oil.
Remus’s arm tightened.
His mouth brushed Regulus’s ear.
“Cassian ddim yn haeddu edrych arnat ti,” he muttered, voice nearly a growl. “Rwyt ti’n eiddo i mi nawr. Fy un i. Fy nghariad. Dwi eisiau dy gusanu di nes i ti anghofio ei enw.”
Regulus’s pen slowed.
Behind them, Mary clasped both hands over her chest.
“Oh,” she whispered. “That sounded tragic.”
Marlene nodded with wide, shining eyes. “Devastating. Absolutely devastating.”
Lily’s brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t speak.
Alice tilted her head, studying Remus’s face. “It sounded intense.”
Frank, being Frank, looked quietly touched. “Maybe he’s saying something sweet.”
James stared at Remus. “Moony doesn’t usually sound sweet like he’s about to eat someone.”
Sirius’s voice was flat. “He’d better not be saying anything weird.”
Remus’s mouth curled at the corner.
Regulus glanced up sharply. “What was that smile?”
“Nothing, darling.”
Regulus’s eyes narrowed. “Translate.”
“No.”
“Lupin.”
Remus nuzzled into the hollow beneath his jaw with such open devotion that Peter made a tiny squeaking sound.
“Not yet,” Remus murmured.
Regulus stared at him a second longer.
Then, very slowly, turned back to the parchment.
“Hm.”
It was the first truly dangerous hm.
Everyone heard it.
Mary whispered, “He’s noticing.”
Marlene whispered, “Barely.”
Alice whispered, “Enough.”
Lily’s smirk began creeping back.
Sirius looked sick with brotherly dread. “No. No noticing. I’m not emotionally prepared for noticing.”
James patted him on the back. “No one is, mate.”
Remus had stopped caring that they were all watching. That was the horrifying thing. Remus Lupin, who normally kept his feelings locked behind sarcasm, tired eyes, and a cardigan of emotional repression, was currently draped over Regulus Black in front of everyone, murmuring in Welsh like a man possessed and kissing every bit of skin he could reach.
His lips brushed Regulus’s neck again.
“Dwi eisiau dy gael di,” he murmured, voice rougher still. “Rydw i eisiau dy ffwcio di Reg. Nawr. Yma, yn rhywle, unrhyw le. Dwi wedi aros mor hir. Dwi eisiau dy glywed di’n dweud fy enw i fel petai’n wir.”
Regulus’s head snapped slightly to the side.
“What was my name doing in there?”
Remus froze for half a heartbeat.
Then kissed his jaw.
“Character work.”
Sirius threw both hands into the air. “That’s it. I’m killing him.”
James hooked an arm around his waist. “No, you’re not.”
“He said Reg’s name.”
“In Welsh.”
“That’s worse.”
“You don’t know what he said.”
“Exactly. That’s worse.”
Mary, still watching with dreamy fascination, whispered, “I think he’s confessing his undying love.”
Marlene nodded. “He sounds tortured.”
Frank’s expression softened. “Poor Remus.”
Alice’s eyes flicked to Remus’s hand on Regulus’s waist, then to the way his mouth stayed dangerously close to Regulus’s throat.
“I’m not entirely certain tortured is the word,” she murmured.
Lily’s eyes narrowed a fraction.
Remus’s grip shifted again when Regulus tried to step forward toward the desk. Regulus moved one inch; Remus tugged him right back against his chest like a reflex.
Regulus stumbled lightly into him.
“Lupin.”
Remus hummed.
“I was moving.”
“I noticed.”
“Then why did you stop me?”
Remus lowered his head again, his voice soft and wrecked. “Didn’t want you far.”
That one was in English.
The room went silent.
Regulus looked back at him.
Remus looked down.
For a second, there was no plotting. No Cassian. No Cordelia. No revenge parchment. No whisper campaign. Just Regulus Black, short and sharp and slowly blinking, and Remus Lupin, tall and hungry-eyed and holding him like he had forgotten how not to.
Then Regulus smirked.
“That’s good,” he said, though his voice was a little quieter. “Possessive. Keep that.”
Remus’s eyes darkened further.
“Oh, I will.”
Sirius made a noise like someone had stepped on his soul.
James whispered, “Pads, I’m so sorry, but this is incredible.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
Regulus managed, finally, to pull free of Remus’s arms so he could grab the parchment and inspect it properly.
He got two steps away.
Two.
Remus followed instantly.
Not casually. Not subtly.
He followed like a shadow that had developed separation anxiety.
Regulus stopped.
Remus stopped directly behind him.
Regulus took another step.
Remus took another step.
Regulus slowly turned.
Remus looked innocent.
It was, because he was Remus Lupin, a deeply unconvincing innocence.
Regulus lifted one brow. “Are you following me?”
“Yes.”
“At least lie.”
“No.”
Mary’s face crumpled with silent laughter.
Marlene had to lean against Alice.
Alice was smiling now, small and sharp.
Frank looked deeply concerned for everyone involved.
Peter whispered, “He’s not even pretending anymore.”
Fabian whispered, “Oh, he’s pretending.”
Gideon whispered, “Just badly.”
Regulus stared at Remus, suspicion sharpening by the second.
Remus smiled at him.
Soft.
Dazed.
Absolutely useless.
Then he said something else in Welsh, voice low enough that it crawled across everyone’s nerves even though nobody understood a word.
“Paid â rhedeg oddi wrtha i, cariad. Dwi eisiau dy ddal di. Rydw i eisiau dy ffycin di nes nad oes dim byd arall yn dy ben ond fi."
Regulus went very still.
The others collectively melted into the wrong conclusion.
Mary whispered, “That was beautiful.”
Marlene nodded. “I think I’m going to cry.”
Frank looked genuinely moved. “He sounds so sincere.”
Alice murmured, “He certainly sounds something.”
Sirius stared at Remus with deep suspicion. “Moony.”
Remus did not look away from Regulus. “Yes?”
“What are you saying?”
Remus’s gaze stayed locked on Regulus’s mouth.
“Welsh.”
Sirius’s eye twitched. “Helpful.”
Regulus’s eyes narrowed further. “Say something in English.”
Remus stepped closer.
Regulus stepped back.
The back of Regulus’s thighs bumped the edge of a desk.
Remus’s hands settled on either side of him, bracketing him there without quite touching, though the distance between them was almost nothing.
Remus leaned down.
Regulus had to tilt his head back.
Everyone forgot how to breathe.
Remus murmured, “You’re pretty.”
Regulus blinked.
A faint flush touched his cheekbones again.
“That is not useful strategy.”
“It’s true.”
Regulus’s lips parted, then closed.
Remus smiled.
He looked drunk on the reaction.
“And clever,” Remus continued, voice still low. “And vicious. And impossible. And I’ve waited too long to stand this close to you and pretend I don’t want to.”
Sirius whispered, “Excuse me?”
Regulus’s eyes widened slightly.
Then Remus seemed to remember the audience, or at least remember the excuse, because he added, “Character work.”
James bent double.
Lily covered her mouth.
Mary made a muffled shriek.
Marlene whispered, “The audacity.”
Alice said softly, “That was not character work.”
Frank nodded. “No.”
Peter looked between them all. “So we are all noticing now?”
“Yes, Peter,” Fabian whispered. “We are all noticing now.”
Gideon nodded solemnly. “The notice has been delivered.”
Regulus, however, was not yet ready to surrender to the obvious. His pride had dug trenches. He frowned up at Remus, as though studying a particularly suspicious book.
“You’re too good at this.”
Remus’s face softened in a way that should have been illegal.
“I told you,” he said. “Only with you.”
Regulus swallowed.
Sirius slowly turned to Lily. “This is your fault.”
Lily nodded. “Yes.”
“You admit that?”
“With pride.”
Before Sirius could respond, Remus sat down on the desk behind him and tugged Regulus forward by the waist.
Regulus made a startled noise as Remus pulled him between his knees, then closer, then closer still.
“Lupin—”
Remus’s hands settled on Regulus’s thighs.
Not frantic. Not rough. Just broad and warm and possessive, fingers flexing like he was grounding himself there. Regulus stiffened for one breath, then placed his hands on Remus’s shoulders for balance, eyes wide and suspicious and not even slightly as unaffected as he clearly wanted to appear.
Remus looked up at him.
The height difference had shifted now. Sitting on the desk, Remus was lower but still tall enough that Regulus had to stand close. Too close. The space between them had collapsed into heat and breath and the soft scrape of Regulus’s trainer against the floor.
Remus murmured, “Better.”
Regulus stared. “Better for what?”
Remus’s hands gave a tiny squeeze against his thighs.
“Convincing him.”
“Cassian,” Regulus said, like he was testing the thought.
Remus’s jaw tightened.
He pulled Regulus closer.
Regulus stumbled slightly, hands gripping Remus’s shoulders harder.
Remus’s voice dropped back into Welsh, rough as gravel now.
“Paid â dweud ei enw fe. Dwi eisiau i ti anghofio fe. I want to fuck you until his name disappears. Ti’n perthyn i mi, cariad. Fy un i. Dwi’n dy garu di.”
Mary pressed both hands to her heart. “Oh, that has to be romantic.”
Marlene whispered, “It sounds ancient.”
Fabian nodded. “Like a curse.”
Gideon added, “A love curse.”
Alice, watching Remus’s hands and Regulus’s flushed face, murmured, “A very specific love curse.”
Regulus’s gaze flicked toward her.
“What does that mean?”
Alice opened her mouth.
Lily caught her eye and shook her head slightly, smirking.
Alice closed her mouth.
Regulus looked back at Remus. “What did you say?”
Remus leaned closer. “That I love you.”
The room fell dead silent.
Sirius froze.
James froze.
Lily’s smirk vanished into wide-eyed surprise.
Mary’s mouth dropped open.
Marlene grabbed her arm.
Alice’s eyebrows rose.
Frank softened at once.
Peter looked absolutely stunned.
Fabian and Gideon stared.
Regulus went still.
Remus blinked.
Then, after the single most catastrophic pause in human history, he added, “In character.”
Everyone made a noise.
Not one noise. Many noises. A pile-up of disbelief, outrage, laughter, horror, and emotional collapse.
Sirius shouted, “Moony!”
James wheezed, “In character?”
Mary gasped, “That’s your defence?”
Marlene nearly fell onto the floor. “That is the worst save I’ve ever heard.”
Peter whispered, “I believed him for a second.”
Frank said, very gently, “I don’t think it was in character.”
Alice nodded. “No, dear. It was not.”
Fabian pointed at Remus. “Confession.”
Gideon pointed too. “Public confession.”
Lily looked at Regulus, then Remus, then back at Regulus.
And that was when, because chaos had apparently decided to finish the job with a bow on top, James said, “Mate, at this point you might as well admit you’ve been obsessed with him for years.”
Remus’s face went blank.
Sirius shut his eyes.
Lily whispered, “James.”
James’s smile died. “Oh.”
Regulus turned very slowly.
The room seemed to shrink around him.
His hands were still on Remus’s shoulders.
Remus’s hands were still on his thighs.
Regulus looked first at James.
Then at Lily.
Then at Mary and Marlene, both frozen.
Then at Alice, who looked guilty by association.
Then at Frank, whose honest face gave the whole thing away before anyone said another word.
Then Peter, who looked like he had accidentally swallowed a secret too large for his throat.
Then Fabian and Gideon, who were making identical faces of fascinated terror.
Then Sirius.
Sirius looked back at him.
Brother to brother.
Caught.
Regulus’s voice came out quiet.
“What.”
Nobody answered.
Regulus’s gaze snapped back to Remus.
Remus stared at him silently.
No Welsh now.
No smirking excuse.
No character work.
Just Remus, flushed and breathless, eyes dark and soft and terrified, holding Regulus like he had been allowed to touch heaven for five minutes and had no idea what punishment came next.
Regulus stared at him.
His lips parted.
He gave one tiny, shocked huff of breath.
Not anger.
Not rejection.
Just surprise.
Pure, naked surprise.
Remus apparently took that as permission.
He surged forward.
Both hands rose to Regulus’s face, gentle and urgent at once, and he kissed him again.
Regulus squeaked.
Actually squeaked.
The sound shot through the room like a spell.
Sirius made a dying noise.
James whispered, “Oh, thank God.”
Mary grabbed Marlene.
Marlene grabbed Mary back.
Lily exhaled like she had been holding her breath for years.
Alice smiled.
Frank looked relieved.
Peter whispered, “So it’s real now?”
Fabian whispered, “Peter.”
Gideon whispered, “It was real before Regulus got the memo.”
Regulus’s shock lasted half a second.
Then he melted.
It was small at first. The way his fingers tightened in Remus’s jumper. The way his shoulders dropped. The way he leaned into the kiss instead of pulling back.
Then Remus tugged him closer, one hand sliding into Regulus’s hair, the other slipping beneath the loose edge of his hoodie to settle carefully against his ribs, warm against skin.
Regulus made another small startled sound into his mouth.
Remus groaned softly, delighted beyond sense.
“Cariad,” he muttered between kisses. “There you are. Perfect. So perfect. Dwi’n dy garu di. Dwi eisiau ti. Only you.”
Regulus clung tighter.
His knees pressed against Remus’s legs; his hands fisted in the front of Remus’s jumper as if he had meant to shove him away and had forgotten halfway through. His face was flushed now, properly flushed, and every time Remus kissed him again, he made some small shocked noise like he was still catching up to the fact that this was happening.
Remus kissed him like he had run out of patience years ago.
Regulus kissed him like he had just discovered a door in a wall and decided, instantly, that it belonged to him.
Sirius looked physically unwell.
James kept one arm around Sirius out of precaution, but his grin was enormous.
“Don’t kill him,” James whispered.
Sirius’s voice came out hollow. “I am watching my brother snog my best friend on a desk.”
“Yes.”
“In front of me.”
“Yes.”
“After my best friend confessed in the worst way possible.”
“Yes.”
“And my brother squeaked.”
James’s grin widened. “He did.”
Sirius covered his face. “I need to lie down in traffic.”
Lily patted his arm. “No traffic at Hogwarts.”
“I’ll find some.”
Mary whispered, “This is the greatest day of my life.”
Marlene nodded fervently. “Nothing will ever top this.”
Alice looked amused. “I suspect Cassian Warrington’s public downfall may compete.”
Frank smiled faintly. “Regulus seems to have forgotten about that.”
He had.
Completely.
The parchment lay abandoned on the desk beside them. The revenge plan. The rumour structure. The public humiliation schedule. The carefully crafted social destruction of Cordelia Vane. The nose-breaking objectives for Sirius. All of it ignored.
Regulus Black, who had spent the last hour building a glorious machine of petty vengeance, was now fully occupied kissing Remus Lupin and making tiny offended noises every time Remus pulled back even slightly.
Peter, staring at the forgotten parchment, whispered, “Should we still do the plan?”
Fabian glanced at Gideon.
Gideon glanced at Fabian.
Both of them looked at Sirius.
Sirius stared at Regulus and Remus, then at the parchment, then back at them.
His expression went very still.
“Yes,” Sirius said.
Lily blinked. “Sirius.”
“What? Cassian still needs consequences.”
Mary nodded. “True.”
Marlene lifted a finger. “Cordelia too.”
Alice said, “We did already organise it.”
Frank sighed. “That is not usually a reason to continue a revenge plot.”
James patted his shoulder. “It is here.”
Remus finally broke the kiss just enough to breathe, forehead resting against Regulus’s. His hand stayed in Regulus’s hair, fingers tangled there like he had no plans to remove them in this lifetime.
Regulus blinked at him, dazed.
Remus looked smug now.
Soft, still. Devoted, absolutely. But smug in a way that made him look almost dangerous.
From the back of the room, Fabian cleared his throat.
“So,” he said lightly, “Cassian—”
Regulus turned his head slightly, still sitting close between Remus’s knees, still held by him.
He frowned.
“Who?”
The silence lasted one perfect second.
Then the room erupted.
Mary shrieked into Marlene’s shoulder.
Marlene actually bent at the waist laughing.
James howled.
Peter clapped both hands over his mouth.
Fabian and Gideon both pointed at Regulus in triumph.
Alice laughed, bright and startled.
Frank looked down, smiling despite himself.
Lily closed her eyes and shook her head, deeply pleased.
Sirius stared at his brother in disbelief. “Are you joking?”
Regulus blinked slowly.
Then the fog cleared a little.
His eyes sharpened.
His face flushed darker.
“I know who Cassian is,” he snapped.
Remus’s smile turned wicked against his cheek.
“Do you?”
Regulus whipped back toward him. “Shut up.”
Remus slid his thumb along Regulus’s jaw. “You forgot him.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I was distracted.”
Remus leaned closer, voice low and pleased. “By me.”
Regulus glared.
It would have been more effective if he were not still gripping Remus’s jumper with both hands.
Remus looked delighted.
Absolutely delighted.
He pressed another kiss to Regulus’s mouth, shorter this time, smug enough to be criminal.
Regulus made a small sound, then kissed him back before he could stop himself.
Sirius turned around completely. “I can’t watch this.”
James patted his back again. “You watched worse in the common room when Peter tried to eat soup with a fork.”
Peter frowned. “That was one time.”
“This is worse,” Sirius said. “This is my bloodline.”
Lily smirked. “Technically, it’s Remus’s problem now.”
Sirius pointed at her without looking. “Do not.”
Regulus pulled back from Remus, breathing a little unevenly, hair thoroughly mussed now from Remus’s hand. He looked at everyone watching him and seemed to remember, all at once, that he was not alone.
His expression turned imperious instantly.
“What are you all staring at?”
Marlene grinned. “Nothing.”
Mary nodded. “Absolutely nothing.”
Alice smiled serenely. “Your character work.”
Frank coughed.
Peter looked away.
Fabian said, “Very convincing.”
Gideon added, “Award-winning.”
Regulus’s eyes narrowed.
Remus, still shamelessly holding him close, murmured against his ear, “They’re right.”
Regulus shivered.
Barely.
But everyone saw it.
Sirius pointed at Remus again. “I saw that.”
Remus looked at him, expression calm and insufferably smug. “Good.”
James whispered, “Oh, he’s bold now.”
Lily whispered, “One kiss rewired his spine.”
Regulus turned on Remus, cheeks still flushed. “You.”
Remus looked at him with warm, dangerous patience. “Me.”
“You were not acting.”
“No.”
The room went very still again.
Regulus stared.
Remus stared back.
No hiding now.
No Welsh veil. No fake-dating scheme. No excuse. His hand remained warm against Regulus’s ribs beneath the hoodie, but gentle, waiting. His other hand slowly eased from Regulus’s hair to cup the side of his face.
Regulus swallowed.
Remus said softly, “I meant it.”
Sirius muttered, “Please don’t make me hear this.”
James whispered, “Let them have it.”
Sirius whispered back, “I am having a crisis.”
Regulus ignored them.
For once, he seemed fully focused on Remus.
“You’ve liked me for years?”
Remus gave a small, helpless laugh. “Yes.”
Regulus blinked. “Years.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing?”
Remus’s mouth twitched. “You’re terrifying.”
Regulus looked offended. “That is not a reason.”
“It was one of several.”
Regulus narrowed his eyes. “What were the others?”
Remus’s thumb brushed his cheek.
“You were always out of reach.”
Regulus went quiet.
That landed differently.
Even Sirius softened despite himself.
Remus leaned in, not kissing him this time, just close enough that their foreheads nearly touched again.
“And then you kissed me,” he murmured. “For revenge.”
Regulus flushed.
“I thought you were acting.”
“I know.”
“You said character work.”
“You believed me.”
“You’re usually trustworthy.”
James snorted.
Lily slapped his arm.
Remus smiled. “Not about you.”
Regulus stared at him.
Then, very slowly, a smirk spread across his face.
“You’re awful.”
Remus’s eyes softened. “I can be.”
Regulus leaned closer, the smirk turning wicked. “And you’re still doing the fake boyfriend plan.”
Remus’s hand flexed lightly against his ribs.
“Am I?”
“Yes. Cassian still needs to suffer.”
At the name, Remus’s expression cooled again.
There it was.
The guard dog.
The shadow.
The wolf under the boy.
Regulus saw it properly this time.
His smirk faltered into fascination.
Remus said, very quietly, “Then he’ll suffer.”
Sirius folded his arms. “Not without me.”
Regulus glanced back. “Obviously not. I promised you his nose.”
Sirius nodded, mollified. “Good.”
Mary wiped at her eyes. “We’re still ruining Cordelia?”
Regulus looked offended. “Of course we’re still ruining Cordelia.”
Marlene sighed happily. “Perfect.”
Alice tapped the parchment. “We’ll need to adjust the timing if Regulus and Remus are making a public entrance.”
Frank said gently, “Are we really returning to logistics after that?”
Lily looked at him. “Yes.”
James grinned. “That’s how you know the plan is good.”
Peter nodded. “Also, I’d like my innocent questions written down. I panic.”
Fabian grabbed the pen. “We’ll script you.”
Gideon leaned in. “With pauses.”
Regulus looked around the room, flushed, kissed senseless, still held in Remus’s lap, and somehow already sliding back into command.
“Fine. New plan.”
Remus smiled.
Regulus pointed at him without looking. “Stop smiling like that.”
“No.”
Regulus turned. “No?”
Remus leaned close, kissing the corner of his mouth again. “No, cariad.”
Regulus went pinker.
Sirius made a pained sound.
Lily’s eyes glittered.
James grinned.
Mary and Marlene silently clung to each other.
Alice looked delighted.
Frank looked resigned.
Peter looked confused but happy to be included.
Fabian and Gideon looked like they had just been handed an entire season of entertainment.
Regulus huffed, trying and failing to look annoyed.
Remus, smug and lovestruck and utterly ruined, kept one hand under the edge of the hoodie at Regulus’s ribs, the other settled possessively at his waist.
Regulus looked back down at the parchment.
“Right,” he said, a little breathless. “Cassian.”
Remus kissed his jaw.
Regulus blinked.
“Right,” he tried again. “Cassian.”
Remus kissed just beneath his ear.
Regulus’s eyes fluttered.
The room watched him lose the thought in real time.
Sirius sighed heavily. “We are never getting this revenge plan finished.”
Remus smiled against Regulus’s neck.
Regulus, dazed and furious about it, muttered, “Shut up.”
James leaned toward Lily and whispered, “Still your fault.”
Lily watched Regulus try to remember the name of the boy he had been plotting against ten minutes ago while Remus Lupin quietly worshipped him in plain sight.
Her smile turned bright as a lit match.
“Yes,” she said. “And it worked.”