Chapter Text
Regulus Black was not unfamiliar with being flirted with.
Listen, as a member of the Black family — who’s entire influence and power came partially from their astounding genes — he wasn’t unaware of the way people stared at him for a little too long when they were examining a room, pretending to be on the look for something just to gaze at him, or the way a group of girls would giggle when he gave them a minor glance in a corridor; even if it was layered with slight judgment.
He also wasn’t unfamiliar with the way numerous of his distant, female relatives used to smirk at him with a territorial claim in their eyes, whenever he attended a family event that he never really wanted to go to. Thank Merlin, he never has to go to a pureblood ceremony again, considering the Potters aren’t really ones to flaunt their status.
What he wasn’t familiar with? James Potter, and the goosebumps on Regulus’ pale skin and butterflies in his squirming stomach whenever the Golden Boy had decisively made the unspoken choice to anoint Regulus as the next subject of his flirtatious whims. Seriously, Regulus found it ridiculous. Him? Listen, Evan and Barty called him the ‘Slytherin Prince of Brooding’ because they were right gits, but he somehow took pride in his indifferent attire.
So for that all to come crumbling down with Regulus’ pink cheeks flaring up and several attempts to remain stubborn, all of his predicaments caused by the Potter boy with unruly dark chocolate curls and a smile to rival a glistening ocean? It was soul-crushing. (Another thing was the Black family inherits is an unfathomable flair for dramatics.)
If given the choice, Regulus would’ve likely never interacted with James if not for those fateful nights and Sirius’ last string snapping. But also, don’t ask him if he’s upset or celebratory about these turns of events; he thinks about it enough as it is. (And he wouldn’t tell anyone, but it leans more toward the latter.)
And if not absolutely earth-shaking and honest-to-god confusing, another word to describe James Potter’s charm would be constant. Seriously, James had not let up his seductive endeavours since what Regulus deems their first real interaction; which was bound to happen, considering he and Sirius practically car-crashed into the Potter Manor during the last week of an unsuspecting summer break.
To set the scene, Regulus and Sirius had been drawn to their last bow during one fateful summer, and found refuge in the Potter household just a week before Hogwarts started back up again. They had spent that week emotionally overwhelmed, adapting to a new environment where they could actually speak during dinner and could show even an ounce of joy if they were excited, and despite the fact that Sirius was a bit more used to these new changes considering the summers he had previously spent with the family, it didn’t make it all too easy to handle for either of them.
James hadn’t actually been too active those couple days either, aside from the handful of welcoming smiles he shot Regulus and the weak jokes he made to cheer up Sirius. No, if anything, he was silently seething when he thought no one was looking (Regulus was always looking), and Regulus can distinctly remember the image of his typically tan knuckles gripping onto the arm of a chair so tightly they were fading a disastrous white. No, James Potter had found his charm — which Regulus wouldn’t ever admit he missed during those days — back in Hogwarts.
The first time James Potter flirted with him?
The second day back at Hogwarts for Regulus’ sixth year and James’ seventh.
I.
Regulus was, to be frank, exhausted.
His eyes were still stinging from all the crying he and Sirius had been doing as a ‘bonding’ exercise back at the Potter household, he still felt slightly train-lagged from their arrival yesterday at Hogwarts, he had received a howler this morning, and so had Sirius, detailing all of Walburga Black’s disappointment in him through outrageous shrieks and crude language, and to top it all off, lessons at Hogwarts had started again today and Regulus was left dragging his feet out of the Gryffindor common room after spending some time with Sirius, who claimed they couldn’t let the old hag tear us apart!
It had been a long day.
Lazily tugging a leg from where it was on the ground, Regulus swung his foot over the Gryffindor portrait, waving a dismissive goodbye to Sirius over his shoulder, who was saying his farewells in a much louder, larger way — meaning Regulus couldn’t be arsed to listen to it, especially after such a draining sequence of days strung together.
Sighing to himself and rubbing a distressed hand over his face, Regulus made a determined pace to reach the dungeons and flop onto his bed, even if his newfound determination didn’t hold to it’s true effect due to the suspiciously short steps he was taking and the sharp tension in his shoulders.
Life couldn’t get any worse. Last week at the Potter Manor couldn’t get any worse. Today couldn’t get worse, today couldn’t get worse, it couldn’t—
“Reg!”
It got worse.
Regulus closes his eyes to maintain his balanced energy, forcing himself to not scamper away like a cat faced with water, gritting out a singular word, “Potter.”
Ah, yes. The boy bane of his existence; James Potter, who boy who held the sun in his eyes and conveyed sentences in his teeth. Now, you may think Regulus hates him, judging from his lack of enthusiasm at the sudden appearance, yet Regulus can’t bring himself to describe it as disdain. No, you would know if Regulus Black hated you. And even though Regulus tried to delude himself into opposing ways of thinking, he knew inwardly that there was one reason he didn’t like the teen’s company.
He didn’t know how to act around James Potter. And if there’s one thing Regulus Black hates more than his family, it’s not knowing stuff.
Listen, how would you act if you were all of a sudden living with the boy you’ve had a hopeless crush on since you were fourteen, the same boy who taught you what it was to want at all, just to be thrusted into his home like it was a regular Sunday, and immediately shoved into numerous, albeit wordless, interactions with him? Exactly.
Unaware of Regulus’ mental crisis, James starts, undeterred, “Reginald, where you heading to?” He teases softly, flashing a sharp grin and Regulus instantly notices the obvious difference in his aura compared to his mood at Potter Manor. Not like Regulus watched him enough to know his typical behaviour. Of course not. Just, when the Golden boy of Gryffindor tower is tense and solemn when no one is looking, you’re bound to notice. Regulus is sort of relieved he’s back to his normal self, though.
Choosing to not comment on the ridiculous nickname, Regulus quirks an eyebrow, “The— dungeons?” He blandly states, tone slightly concerned for James’ intelligence.
For some reason, James snorts and raises both his eyebrows in a playful way, “Sound a bit hesitant there, hm?”
“No, just shocked at your lack of critical thinking.” Regulus quips, huffing an exasperated breath and manoeuvring his path around James’ toned body, walking briskly past him to continue his trek.
What he doesn’t expect, however, is a light jog pacing behind him, and for the radiant boy to once again enter Regulus’ proximity, “And I’m shocked at your lack of intelligence.” James retorts, settling in nicely by Regulus’ side, falling into step with him.
“Excuse me?” Regulus scoffs, indignant from both the words and the shocking turn of events that is James Potter trailing after him. He must feel pity for all the shit that’s gone down this summer, Regulus finalises mentally, brushing off any shred of hope that James Potter actually wants to spend time with him; This is probably a duty fuelled by obligation of being Sirius Black’s indubitable best friend.
“Well, I mean, I’m no genius like Remus, but clearly you’re exhausted. It’s written all over your… well, everything.” James comments, gesturing vaguely to all over Regulus’ torso, feigning cringe on his face and barely managing to conceal the twitch of his lips at the corners.
“Charming. And how does this effect my intelligence?” Regulus sneers, scrunching his nose up sceptically, finally coming to the staircases and going down them with practiced ease.
“Well, I mean, not that you don’t look ravishing, but don’t you think you would’ve looked better in my bed?” James says simply. Simply, like he hadn’t just rearranged all of Regulus’ baked thoughts into scrambled eggs. Unable to stop his rising blush, Regulus’ face turns hot and James beams like he’s just discovered the secret of the universe and figured out life’s ultimate purpose.
“I— Pot— What?!” Regulus splutters, darting his head to examine Potter’s amused face and almost tripping over a step because of it. James’ arm quickly comes out to steady him, like it’s instinct, but it pulls away pretty quickly once Regulus sends a glare to it. Inwardly, he regrets his own eyes for behaving without his permission, because he shockingly misses the warmth James’ fingers provided and is instead left with a roaring sting where his fingertips once indented.
Seemingly unbothered, James continues, “I’m just saying, it would be a lovely sight. You know, your beautiful curls, probably angelic-sleeping face, your whole being? In my bed?” He shrugs, practically purring the words and smirking as Regulus almost walks into a wall now they’re back in classroom territory.
Playing it off, Regulus scoffs and picks up his tempo, rushing to get to the dungeons now, because what is happening right now, he asks sarcastically, “And why would I ever do that?!”
“Cause it would be a quicker solution. And immensely more enjoyable. Trust me, I could act as your pillow too.” James reasons calmly, hands in his pockets indifferently and waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Regulus.
“I— That? You? Pillo- What?! That would not be comfortable at all.” Regulus fails to come up with an insult, and he’s well aware he sounds like a flustered idiot. He’s mentally cursing himself for loosing his ‘ice-cool’ reputation, but also, in his defence, he can’t control his bodily reactions, and James Potter was certainly a valid excuse, in his infuriating glory.
“Well, you won’t know till you try.” James leans in further, nudging Regulus’ shoulder with his own as they finally reach the corridor belonging to the dungeon’s stairwell, their footsteps the only thing echoing in the strangely deserted castle.
“I’m not trying!” Regulus yelps, coming to an abrupt pause just before the staircase, and pivoting so hard he almost loses his graceful balance.
Smug as ever, James continues down the descent to the damp passageways of Hogwarts, looking over his shoulder and smiling warmly, “The invite’s always open, Black.”
“You’re ridiculous. Merlin.” Regulus blinks, a little out of sorts and exasperated, taking a moment to dig his feet into the floor and ground himself, before catching back up to James.
“And you’re cute when you’re flustered. Remind me to do this more often.” James chuckles lowly, hands still stuffed in his pockets and strolling through the dark hallways leading up to the Slytherin Dungeons like he owned them, despite the fact he was technically invading enemy territory.
“Do what more often?” Regulus squints his eyes with worry, eyeing James like he’s planning a masterful prank.
“Be with you. I like it.” James says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, letting the words tumble out of his lips earnestly. Regulus has none of it.
He scoffs, scepticism evident in his tone, “Yeah, okay, Potter. Go back to your preferred Black brother.” Regulus rolls his eyes, knowing damn well that James was just a natural womaniser (or in this case, maniser) and would probably flirt with a thestral if he given the chance; hell, he probably gives his broomstick a forehead kiss at night.
Finally reaching the Slytherin dormitory, before Regulus can escape into the comforting doom of his alluring bed and whine to Pandora about James’ unforgiving charisma, a hand tugs his wrist. Turning around, Regulus comes face to face with James, a look of pure confusion obvious in the way his eyebrows are scrunched and causing his glasses to ruck up a little bit, “Who said ‘preferred’?” James ponders, tilting his head to the side like a confused dog, and no, don’t do that, it’s painfully cute.
Ignoring his gay panic, legitimately used to ignoring it now over the span of this single conversation, Regulus points out, “Your years of friendship?”
James’ eyes soften only a fraction, before he laughs softly, “One day, you’ll know.” He mutters vaguely, quiet enough that Regulus could pretend he didn’t hear it, but audible enough that he could query it if he did.
“What?” Regulus narrows his eyes, trying to decipher the words in his head, sort of offended there’s something he doesn’t know.
Instead of explaining, James gently pushes Regulus in the direction of his dormitory, “Go sleep, Reg. My chest is always open if you need it.” He says tauntingly, winking, but his tone doesn’t go without a hint of fondness.
Honestly too exhausted to deal with confusion and the enigma that is James Potter, Regulus manages to heave a sigh, “Goodbye, Potter.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
And thus, that was the start of it all.
And it never stopped. Seriously, James must’ve gotten a real kick from riling Regulus up into a blushing mess, because he was persistent.
And to be fair, at first it was small things; teasing remarks in the hallways, coming to the Slytherin table at lunch just to annoy Regulus or take a sip out of his goblet, arriving at Quidditch practices with his Gryffindor team of imbeciles, knowing damn well the pitch was reserved for Slytherin and goading Regulus by saying we’ll leave if you give me a kiss! The charmer he is, Regulus would respond in kind, no, you’ll leave after I kick you in your pruned ball sack. James would usually back off after that, but not without blowing Regulus a mocking kiss. Seriously, he entertained himself way too much with his meaningless flirting; it was borderline worrying.
Though, all of those were passing memories. A blip in a large day full of much larger emotions. The next big interaction, Regulus supposes you would label it as? The practice match.