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James Potter sat at the kitchen table, the quill in his hand feeling foreign and heavy. The room was silent, save for the quiet fluttering of parchment beneath his fingers. It was an ordinary morning, light creeping in through the windows, the dust motes dancing in the sunlight—but for James, everything felt wrong. The weight in his chest, the gnawing ache that had been there for days, months—hell, years—had only grown heavier since the news of Regulus' death.
He had never expected it to end like this. He hadn’t expected Regulus to die at all, and certainly not the way he did. Drowned. It didn’t make sense. Not the Regulus James had known, not the Regulus who had been so determined to hold on to whatever shred of goodness was left inside him. But it had happened. And James couldn’t outrun the guilt, the sorrow that threatened to drown him just as easily.
James hadn’t thought about Regulus in years—not truly. Sure, he had thought of him sometimes, in fleeting moments when something reminded him of their time together, when the sharpness of Regulus’ wit or the twist of a smile came to mind. But Regulus had been lost to him for so long. Lost to his family, to his choices. He hadn’t seen him since before the war, since before everything had changed. And yet, there it was—the news that Regulus was gone, drowned, and with it, the rush of memories and feelings James had spent years trying to bury.
He had tried so hard to forget. To move on. But now, with the letter in his hands, the guilt came rushing back.
He stared at the parchment, the tip of the quill hovering above it, unsure of how to begin. How could he possibly put into words everything he had left unsaid? How could he explain all the ways he had failed Regulus without sounding like a coward, without drowning in the pain of it all?
James closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. Regulus deserved this letter, deserved to hear the things James had never said before. He deserved to know the truth.
My Dear Regulus,
You never showed up, and now, after looking at the Daily Prophet, I understand why.
The words came easily, but they stung as he wrote them. He had never expected to get this letter. He had never even allowed himself to think about the possibility of Regulus reaching out. The times they’d been close—really close—felt so long ago. And yet, James had always thought there would be more. That one day, after everything, they could sit down and talk. He had been wrong. He hadn’t shown up when it mattered, and Regulus hadn’t either.
I don’t imagine you will receive this letter, but I nonetheless must send it. Regulus, oh, Regulus. I was just starting to dream the silliest and softest of dreams.
James faltered as he wrote those words, a lump rising in his throat. It had been so long, but when he thought back to their time together, it was like a light had flickered in the dark—small, fleeting moments that still lingered in his memory. In the quietest, most vulnerable moments, they had shared something more than words, more than just their roles in the war. There had been something real between them. And James had allowed himself to dream—briefly—of a future.
He could still see it in his mind’s eye: the soft warmth of Regulus’ hand in his, the way Regulus would look at him with that half-smirk, eyes softening for just a moment before he closed himself off again. James had been so certain that if given the chance, if they could just figure it out, maybe they could have something. Maybe it could work.
But that was before Regulus had chosen his path. Before everything had spiraled, before James had lost him to a world he couldn’t understand.
I miss you, and I will always miss you, but I cannot live like that, and it seems you cannot live any other way.
The truth hit James with a sharp sting. Regulus had been so deeply entwined in the legacy of his family, in the darkness of the Death Eaters, that James couldn’t bring him out of it. He had tried, damn it, but he hadn’t understood. He hadn’t understood how deep the battle within Regulus went, how much of himself he was willing to sacrifice to try and live up to a twisted version of loyalty.
There had been moments when James had thought Regulus might have wanted to change. There had been nights when they had talked—argued, sometimes—but underneath it all, there had been the faintest glimmer of hope. A hope that maybe, one day, they would both be able to escape their respective worlds. That one day, they would both get the chance to start over. But Regulus hadn’t been able to break free. He had tried, but the pull of the darkness had always been too strong.
James shook his head, not knowing how to make sense of any of it. Maybe there had never been a chance for them. Maybe it had all been doomed from the start. Regulus had been caught in the very thing James had spent his life fighting against. And in the end, that had been the thing that tore them apart.
When I'm with you, the world makes sense; but when we are apart, I see clearly that your world is not a world from which one can escape.
The words flowed like water now, cutting through the barrier James had built around his heart. Regulus had been a part of his life once, in ways that James couldn’t fully explain even to himself. When they had been together—whether fighting, talking, or just being in the same space—the world had seemed simpler. He hadn’t needed to explain himself to Regulus; there had always been this unspoken understanding. When they were apart, though, everything seemed far more complicated. Everything seemed to come crashing back. The guilt, the regret, the overwhelming sense of failure.
He had never been able to save Regulus from the world that had swallowed him whole. He had never been able to change Regulus’ fate, no matter how hard he’d tried.
I'm so sorry, for everything, for everything long ago and for starting up that business again.
There's a good man within you, Regulus, but he is wrestling with a giant. And the giant... wins, time and again.
James paused, his quill hovering above the page, the words he had written sinking deep into him. The truth was hard to admit—harder still to put down on paper. But Regulus had always been a man of contradictions. He had been kind in his own way, and yet cruel to himself. He had wanted out of the life that had been chosen for him, but every time, the darkness had pulled him back in.
And James had seen it—he had seen the good man that Regulus was, underneath the cold walls he had built. But it wasn’t enough. And James had failed him in ways he couldn’t undo.
You've broken my heart, again, and I fear I have broken yours.
The words felt like a weight on his chest, each one heavier than the last. It was a hard truth to face: that he had broken Regulus’ heart. That he had been so certain of his own path, so sure that he knew better, that he hadn’t seen how much pain Regulus was in. He had been so sure of himself, of his ability to save the people he cared about. But in Regulus, he had missed the mark completely. In trying to fix him, he had only pushed him further away.
James closed his eyes for a moment, his vision blurring. He could almost hear Regulus’ voice in his head, sharp and mocking, telling him how foolish he had been. And yet, James knew deep down that Regulus had always known what he wanted. He had always known what his path was, even if James hadn’t understood it at the time.
For that, I will never forgive myself, but you must let me go now. I enclose a ring you gave me many years ago, when we were both young, not because I don’t like it, but because I care for it far too much and it reminds me too much of you.
His hand was shaking as he reached for the ring, the one Regulus had given him all those years ago. He had never taken it off, even when it felt like too much. He had clung to it because it had been the only piece of Regulus he could hold onto. But now, as he looked at it, he realized that it was time to let go. It had always been a symbol of something they couldn’t have—something that could never be.
I hope, one day... you will find some people in love who can use this, for it kept me thinking of you all these years, and I hope by returning it to you I can finally be free.
Goodbye
James
James’ heart broke at the final words, at the idea that Regulus might never have understood the depth of his feelings. That he might never have known how much James had cared. But now, as he closed the letter and sealed it with a flick of his wand, he knew he had done all he could.
He placed the letter and the ring on the mantle, a final gesture—a goodbye, even though Regulus would never see it.
With a deep breath, James whispered, “Goodbye, Regulus,” as if sending the words out into the air, hoping somehow, somehow, Regulus might hear them.
And with that, he turned away. It was over.