Chapter Text
There had been a time when Regulus just hoped Sirius brought James Potter home more and more.
It was a ridiculous habit. Embarrassing, in retrospect. He had been younger then. Less disciplined. Stupid enough to think they didn’t notice his silly crush.
He hadn’t seen James in years. He hasn't seen those beautiful brown eyes in years. But James didn't matter. But Regulus Black had to work at a summer camp for one reason: it was far enough away that no one who knew his name would think to look for him here. And for the money.
Pine trees, a lake that smelled faintly of algae, and a handful of strangers who introduced themselves with too much enthusiasm—perfect.
Temporary.
And he could use some color on his skin. It also paid well. Exactly what he wanted.
A while after he arrived, he was halfway through unloading his suitcase when he heard the laugh.
Loud. Effortless. Familiar in the worst possible way.
Regulus froze, fingers tightening around the handle.
No.
It couldn’t be.
The sound carried again from somewhere beyond the cabins, bright and careless, cutting through the trees like it belonged there. Like it always had.
For a moment, something reckless stirred, an old instinct, the same stupid pull that used to drag him down the stairs just to catch a glimpse, just to be in the same room.
Regulus exhaled slowly, forcing the feeling down.
Years had passed.
People changed.
Voices could be similar.
It didn’t mean anything.
He shut his suitcase with a sharp click.
Whatever—or whoever—was out there, he didn’t need to find out. Regulus straightened, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves, and turned deliberately toward the far end of the camp, away from the sound.
Let it be someone else.
Let it stay that way.
And it did. He didn’t talk to anybody until they called a meeting for all the counselors, and Regulus went. Because he didn’t have a choice.
The “meeting hall” was really just a wide wooden pavilion near the edge of the trees, open on all sides except for a crooked back wall where a whiteboard leaned precariously. A few mismatched benches had been dragged into uneven rows, and someone had strung up fairy lights that were entirely unnecessary in the late afternoon sun. It was good effort though.
Regulus slipped in without announcing himself, taking a seat near the edge, close enough to leave quickly if he needed to. Old habit. Always know the nearest exit. Also good for fires. Obviously.
Voices buzzed around him—too loud, too easy. Names were being thrown around, introductions repeated, laughter bubbling up at nothing in particular. He kept his gaze forward, expression neutral, hands folded neatly in his lap like he could disappear into stillness.
“Alright, alright—settle down!”
A tall lady with sunburnt shoulders clapped her hands at the front, grinning as if she enjoyed the chaos more than she was pretending not to.“Counselors, welcome! If you’re here, congratulations—you’re responsible for children now. Try not to lose any.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the group. Regulus did not join in. That was not funny.
“We’re still missing one of our activity leads,” she continued, glancing briefly toward the open path that led down to the lake. “He’s finishing up something by the water. Apparently decided the dock needed ‘emergency fixing,’ so we’ll just start without him.” Regulus’s posture didn’t change. But something in his chest did—tight, sudden, unwelcome. Like it was a sign.
It was probably because of the lake, of course. He needs to not go near there, he does not have the best past with water.
His eyes flicked, just once, toward the tree line where the path dipped out of sight. For a moment, he could almost picture it: sunlight on water, someone standing at the edge, sleeves pushed up, laughing at something that probably didn’t matter.
He looked away almost immediately.
He needs to focus.
Names.
Schedules.
Cabins.
That was all this was.
“…so you’ll each be assigned a group by age,” the woman was saying, already scribbling something illegible on the board. “Morning activities rotate, afternoons are yours not to mess up, and evenings—well, we’ll pretend those are structured.” More laughter. Still, Regulus said nothing.
He picked at a loose thread on his sleeve, grounding himself in something small, something real. The meeting would end. The days would pass. He would do his job, take the money, and leave. Simple.
The empty space near the front of the pavilion remained just empty.
“So, the groups will be—Pandora, Dorcas, Peter, and Marlene, you’ve got the younger kids.”
The woman paused, eyeing a blonde girl with dark roots who looked mildly lost. “You know… nine to twelve?” she clarified. “Right,” the girl said quickly.“Good. Moving on. Next group—Regulus, Mary, and our missing activity lead. You three are with the thirteen to fifteen-year-olds.”
Regulus gave a small nod, more to himself than anyone else, and glanced around for the others in his group.
His gaze landed on a girl with warm tan skin and a head of soft, voluminous curls. She looked like she was actually paying attention—unlike most of the others.
He looked away a second later.
It didn’t matter.
None of this did.
“For the rest of you—Remus, Lily, Evan, and Barty—you’re helping with kitchen duty.”
Several people groaned dramatically.
The woman ignored them.
“And before I forget,” she added, “I’m McGonagall. Do we want introductions?”
A chorus of yeses answered immediately.
Regulus considered throwing himself directly into the lake.
“Wonderful,” McGonagall said brightly. “We’ll start at the front and work our way back. We’ll end with…” She pointed directly at Regulus. “That young man.”
Of course.
“Hi,” said a blonde girl nervously. “I’m Pandora. Um. Evan’s my twin. I hope we can all become friends and stuff. Okay, bye.”
The introductions continued after that.
Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary seemed normal enough. Peter looked deeply uncomfortable. Evan and Barty had entirely too much energy for human beings. Remus and Lily both gave off the impression that they actually enjoyed reading instruction manuals.
Regulus immediately decided he would not survive this summer.
Still, everything went relatively smoothly. At least until it was his turn. The pavilion grew quiet as every face turned toward him.
Regulus stared back at them for a long moment before speaking.
“I’m Regulus,” he said flatly. “Nice to meet you all.”A pause.
Then, for reasons even he didn’t understand, he added: “I don’t like swimming.”
Silence.
Actual, painful silence.
Several people blinked at him.
Somewhere off to the side, Barty looked like he was trying not to laugh.
After six unbearable seconds, conversation slowly started back up again. Regulus wished the wooden floorboards would open up and swallow him whole.
Regulus waited until it was dark to go back to the cabin.
Not because he was nervous.
Just because nighttime was quieter.
That was what he told himself, anyway.
The camp had settled into that strange late-evening calm by the time he crossed the dirt paths back toward the counselor cabins. Lanterns hung from tree branches, glowing softly gold against the dark woods, and somewhere near the lake a group of counselors were still talking too loudly over music drifting from a portable speaker.
Regulus kept his head down as he walked.
The cabin windows glowed dimly through the trees.
Hopefully everyone inside was already asleep.
He pushed the door open carefully.
Warm air hit him immediately, thick with the scent of damp towels, sunscreen, and old wood. The cabin was larger than he remembered from the tour earlier—six beds crowded into the space, bags and clothes already scattered everywhere.
Someone had hung fairy lights crookedly across one wall.
Of course they had.
Voices drifted lazily through the room.
“—I’m telling you, if the canoe flips again, I’m not saving Barty a second time,” someone said dryly from the far bunk.
“That was ONE TIME,” another voice argued loudly.
“Three times,” a quieter voice corrected without looking up from his book.
Regulus stopped in the doorway.
Then he heard it.
Laughter.
Easy. Familiar. Effortless.
His chest tightened instantly.
Across the cabin, leaning back against one of the lower bunks, was James Potter.
Older.
That was the first thing Regulus noticed.
Not dramatically older—just real somehow. Broader shoulders, messier curls, tiredness softened around the edges of his face. His glasses caught the warm cabin light as he looked up from whatever Barty was aggressively showing him on a phone screen.
James glanced toward the door casually.
Then paused.
Not recognition.
Just curiosity.
“Huh,” he said after a second.
Regulus stayed perfectly still.
The room quieted slightly as everyone noticed the newcomer standing awkwardly in the doorway.
James squinted a little.
“Sorry,” he said slowly, “you look really familiar.”
Regulus forced himself to move before his body completely betrayed him.
“I get that a lot.”
His voice sounded calm enough.
Good.
Barty immediately sat up straighter on his bed, grinning.
“Oh, sick, the mysterious guy from the meeting!”
“Regulus,” Peter blurted awkwardly before immediately looking horrified at himself for speaking.
Regulus nearly closed the door and walked into the woods permanently.
James tilted his head slightly.
“Regulus?”
Regulus moved quickly before the name could settle properly.
“Reg,” he corrected smoothly, dropping his bag beside the only empty bed left. “Just Reg.”
Not technically a lie.
James still looked distracted by something.
Like he was trying to pull a memory into focus and couldn’t quite reach it.
“That’s gonna bother me,” he muttered mostly to himself.
“What is?” Barty asked.
James gestured vaguely toward Regulus.
“His face. I swear I know him from somewhere.”
Regulus began unpacking before anyone could keep talking.
“You probably don’t.”
“Wow,” Evan said from the top bunk, sounding delighted already. “You’re like… weirdly intimidating.”
“Thank you,” Regulus replied flatly.
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Then retract it.”
Barty burst out laughing.
“Oh, I like him.”
“I don’t,” Peter mumbled quietly.
“You don’t like anyone,” Barty informed him.
Meanwhile, James was still watching Regulus intermittently, thoughtful in a way that made his stomach twist.
Not recognition.
Just familiarity.
Some instinctive pull James himself didn’t understand yet.
Remus finally looked up from his book long enough to glance between them all.
“You’re all very loud,” he said mildly.
“Thank you, Remus,” James replied automatically.
“You’re welcome.”
The cabin settled again after that, conversation splintering into smaller pieces.
Barty and Evan argued over music.
Peter disappeared into the bathroom for an alarming amount of time.
Remus kept reading like none of this concerned him in the slightest.
And James—
James kept glancing over.
Not obvious enough for anyone else to notice.
Just enough for Regulus to feel it.
It made unpacking significantly more difficult than it should’ve been.
Eventually James spoke again.
“So where’re you from, Reg?”
Regulus folded a sweatshirt carefully before answering.
“England.”
Barty blinked.
“That narrows it down.”
Regulus looked at him blankly.
“Glad I could help.”
James laughed quietly at that.
God.
That laugh still felt unfair.
“You always this friendly?” James asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s kind of impressive actually.”
Regulus finally risked looking over at him properly.
Big mistake.
James was smiling slightly—not mocking, not arrogant. Just amused in that easy way he always used to be.
It hit Regulus embarrassingly hard.
Years, and apparently his body still reacted like a complete traitor.
“You’ve seriously never met him before?” Evan asked James, leaning over the side of his bunk dramatically.
“I don’t think so,” James said slowly.
Then his eyes drifted back toward Regulus again.
“But he reminds me of someone.”
The words landed softly.
Dangerously.
Regulus looked away first.
“You probably just knew someone with dark hair.”
“Maybe.”
But James still sounded uncertain.
Outside, laughter echoed faintly from another cabin, followed by distant music and the chirp of insects through the trees.
Inside, the air felt too warm.
Too close.
Barty suddenly pointed between the beds.
“Oh, wait—you two are beside each other?”
Regulus looked down.
Of course they were.
James groaned immediately.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“This feels intentional,” Evan declared.
“McGonagall wants drama,” Barty agreed solemnly.
“She wants counselors supervised,” Remus corrected without looking up from his book.
“That too.”
James leaned back against his pillow with a sigh.
“Well,” he said, glancing toward Regulus again, “if you turn out to be secretly homicidal, at least I’ll have warning.”
Regulus slid onto his bed calmly.
“You seem very trusting of strangers.”
“You seem very capable of murder.”
“That’s fair.”
James laughed again, softer this time.
Then the cabin lights clicked off.
One by one, conversations faded into quiet murmurs and shifting blankets.
Eventually, somewhere in the dark:
“Goodnight, Reg,” James said sleepily from the next bed over.
Regulus stared up at the wooden ceiling for a long moment before answering quietly:
“Goodnight.”
And beside him, James Potter fell asleep without realizing who he was sharing a cabin with.