Ink and Intentions

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/59492668.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Regulus Black/James Potter
Characters: Regulus Black, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black, Peter
Pettigrew, Remus Lupin
Additional Tags: Love Letters, Is it really one of my fics without them, Secret Admirer,
Unreliable Narrator, regulus is a writer, surprise surprise, Is it gay to
obsessively hate on your best friends little brother for no reason?, James
Potter-centric, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Marauders Era (Harry
Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Pining, Sirius Black &
James Potter Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Fluff, Peter
is actually here and included, Flirting, Love Confessions, Getting
Together, james is an idiot, Falling In Love, well more like falling in like
but for the sake of the tag idrc, No Angst, Bad Poetry, Happy Ending,
Texting, but with parchment, Unrequited Love, but only at first,
Friendship, Insecurity, Miscommunication, Hogwarts Setting, Romance,
Rivals to Lovers, But they're only rivals from James’s POV, Jealousy,
Regulus is also an artist
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-10-06 Completed: 2024-10-21 Words: 26,177 Chapters:
3/3
 Ink and Intentions
by lungsilk

Summary

James Potter is no stranger to admirers—he's had them all: the subtle, the obvious, the sweet,
the awkward, and the utterly shameless. Anonymous notes left in his books and bags are
usually nothing to get hung up on. This is nothing out of the ordinary. This should be nothing
out of the ordinary.

But this time, something’s different. The letters are sincere, even vulnerable, written with a
startling clarity of intent, as if they know him a little too well. Determined to uncover the
author, James assumes they’re from someone like Lily Evans. Yet as his investigation
deepens, every clue brings him closer to a far more unlikely suspect.
 Written in the Stars

James hates Tuesdays.

They’re dull, predictable, and always loaded with double the usual work from McGonagall,
who seems to delight in assigning impossible essays on Tuesdays just to keep him, and the
rest of Gryffindor, on their toes. Every week, like clockwork.

Tuesdays are the one day he and the boys never pull pranks. Why? Because, like clockwork,
Sirius and Remus disappear somewhere quiet for some “private time” as Sirius puts it, a little
too smugly. Good for them, James tells himself, because he’s happy for them, really. But it
leaves him stuck with Peter, who spends most of Tuesdays sulking that their group has
dwindled by two. And while Peter is nice enough, he isn’t exactly prank material.

Then there’s Quidditch practice. Or, rather, there isn’t. Tuesdays are the day Slytherin books
the pitch. Which is the only thing James hates more than not playing Quidditch at all—
watching Slytherin fly while he’s sidelined. What’s he supposed to do with himself if he can’t
fly, can’t pull pranks, and can’t bother Sirius?

Tuesdays are also the one day he doesn’t have classes with Lily, which is rubbish, because if
he could see her, maybe he’d forget how miserable the day is.

To top it all off, Tuesdays are the one day he has to see Regulus Black.

Because that’s the day Regulus has an annoying habit of sitting on the edge of the field with
his own notebook, barely looking up from it except to scribble occasionally or cast dark,
judging glances at James and the others. And James hates Regulus Black.

Why?

Because Sirius hated Regulus Black. And James trusts his best mate’s judgement. Or, at least,
he tries to, even when he notices that, infuriatingly, Regulus doesn’t even look at him. Like
he’s not worth the attention. Like he’s not even there.

And that, more than anything else, is why James Potter hates Tuesdays.

Is he not worthy of attention? He likes to think he is. After all, he’s James Potter—chaser,
prankster, centre of attention, and unashamedly so. He knows he’s a bit of a big deal, maybe a
bit much sometimes, and he owns it. But Regulus Black? With his cold glares and his total
indifference? The way he sits on the sidelines with that annoying little notebook of his, as if
James and his lot don’t even register on his radar, like James Potter isn’t worth a second
glance?

It grates on him. He should be able to brush it off, and yet… every single Tuesday, there he
is, glancing Regulus’s way, waiting for even the slightest flicker of acknowledgment. Just
something. Anything to prove that James Potter is worthy of attention, even if it’s the
attention of Sirius’s distant, infuriating little brother.
And the worst part? Every time, it’s the same. Regulus ignores him, and James goes back to
hating Tuesdays.

James gets the first letter on a Tuesday.

It’s a miserable Tuesday—the dreariest, greyest one yet. The sky’s heavy with clouds,
McGonagall’s piled on the homework, Sirius and Remus are mysteriously absent again, and
Peter’s in a sulk because the Slytherins have hogged the Quidditch pitch for yet another
practice.

James slouches his way through lunch, resigned to the day being as miserable as ever. But as
he opens his bag to pull out a stack of Charms notes, something flutters out. A piece of
parchment, folded neatly, and just small enough to have slipped in unnoticed. Frowning,
James glances around, but everyone’s either buried in their own notes or their pumpkin
pasties.

The parchment is folded into an intricate, delicate star—almost like a piece of origami. But as
James lifts it to unfold, he notices a faint shimmer, like tiny flecks of stardust dusted across
the surface. He watches in fascination as the star gently unfurls itself, each fold revealing the
next line of the letter as if the parchment were reading itself out to him.

As the star unfolds in his hand, the words reveal themselves in looping, elegant script, with a
slight slant that hints at something both careful and confident:

James,

You’re not exactly subtle about your disdain for Tuesdays, so here’s hoping this brightens
yours up a bit. Though, with the way you grumble about them, I’d wager that’s a tall order.
It’s impressive, really—the way you can bring a room to life just by walking in, and equally
impressive how quickly you can drain your own enthusiasm when it’s Tuesday.

Still, you’re probably used to hearing things like that. All the things people like about you, the
charm, the energy, the way you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut for longer than a minute.
But if you’re anything like the James Potter I think you are, you might not be as used to
hearing about the rest of you. So, let me try.

I like the way you throw yourself into everything, even things as miserable as Professor
McGonagall’s essays. I like that you show up to every practice—even if you sulk every time
Slytherin takes the pitch—and I like that, under all the bluster, you care. It’s maddeningly
obvious that you do. For your friends, for your team, for things that maybe even you don’t
understand yet.

Maybe that’s what makes you worth admiring: you try, even when no one’s watching.

So, James, here’s hoping your Tuesday isn’t quite as awful as usual. Consider this my attempt
to give you one less reason to hate it. Or one more, if mysterious notes in your bag annoy you
I suppose.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Yours, Maybe.

I guess. I don’t really know actually?

James reads the closing line again, furrowing his brow. The letter isn’t signed, leaving him
hanging with a strange mix of curiosity and frustration.

Should he be offended?

The lack of a name is irksome, but the playful tone feels almost… familiar. He can’t quite put
his finger on it.

That line— “the way you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut for longer than a minute.” —
strikes a chord. He smirks, a grin creeping onto his face despite himself. Well, that’s true.

It was different, he had to admit. The compliments mixed with the snark felt like a challenge,
a refreshing twist on the usual flattery he was used to. Instead of the typical, flowery
nonsense he often tossed aside, this was real. This was sharp, funny, and oddly… thoughtful.

James Potter is no stranger to admirers—he's had them all: the subtle, the obvious, the sweet,
the awkward, and the utterly shameless. There was the girl who once left a bouquet of wilted
flowers in his Transfiguration textbook, an obvious attempt to get his attention. Then there
was the love-struck first-year who practically threw herself at him during a school dance,
blushing so hard he thought she might burst into flames. And let’s not forget the daring note
slipped under his door that read, “Meet me by the lake after midnight,” signed with a
question mark. He still doesn’t know who that was, and that mystery keeps him up at night
sometimes.

Anonymous notes left in his books and bags are usually nothing to get hung up on. This is
nothing out of the ordinary. This should be nothing out of the ordinary.

But as he sits there, tapping his fingers against the table, he realises that this time feels
different. The way the letter captures his attention isn’t just about the words—it’s about the
person behind them. The admiration feels genuine, not like the half-hearted flattery that
typically graces his life. There’s a curiosity sparking in his chest, an eagerness to learn more.

Who is this admirer?

He isn’t sure he could even classify them as an admirer or consider it a love letter since the
sender clearly has an attitude problem. But that’s part of the intrigue, isn’t it? The way they
blend sincerity with a sharp edge makes it hard to pin down. They’re not just another doe-
eyed admirer scribbling cliches; this person has something to say and isn’t afraid to say it.

James leans back in his chair, a grin creeping onto his face as he thinks about the
possibilities. Maybe he’ll find out sooner than later. After all, Tuesday is far from over.

Maybe Tuesdays aren’t so bad after all.

⚝
James Potter hates Tuesdays.

He doesn’t know why he considered he wouldn’t for even a second. He’d kept the letter a
secret, savouring the thrill of the unknown. He’d probably been grinning like an idiot the
whole day, and he didn’t care who noticed. His homework was long completed as he rode the
high of the letter’s words, and he didn’t even mind that he was down two less when it came to
company. He didn’t care that Slytherin was hogging the bloody pitch, or that he hadn’t seen
Lily. After all, who else could it be from? Who was as quick-witted and snarky as Evans
herself?

But then Regulus had to go and ruin everything.

James had been running down the corridor, lost in thought about the letter and what it might
mean. Suddenly, he bumped into Regulus, who was lurking as usual in a shadowy corner, his
dark robes blending seamlessly with the stone walls of Hogwarts. Regulus raised an eyebrow,
the usual air of indifference plastered on his face, but there was something else there—
something James couldn’t quite place.

“Hi,” James muttered, trying to sound casual as he reached down to help Regulus up.
Because James was a lot of things, but he wasn’t mean. Most of the time, anyway.

Regulus remained silent, staring at him with those piercing dark eyes. “Potter.” Then, without
another word, he got to his feet, sharply turned away, and fled like James was about to
murder him and his entire family.

“Hey! Wait!” James called out, instinctively following him. He grasped Regulus’s arm,
spinning him around.

“Can I help you, Potter?” Regulus whispered, his face flushed with what was probably
annoyance.

“You bumped into me,” James replied, trying to keep his tone light.

“And?” Regulus shot back, clearly unfazed.

“You should apologise.”

“Yeah, well maybe you should learn to step aside. You were the one who was running, and
you were the one who bumped into me.”

James paused, taken aback. Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. And he hated that he wasn’t
wrong.

“Right. You’re right. Sorry,” James admitted, begrudgingly.

Regulus nodded at him dismissively, a flicker of surprise passing over his features before he
turned and walked away.

“Prick,” James muttered under his breath, irritation boiling just below the surface.
 ⚝
Wednesdays were better. An average sort of day, sure, but far superior to Tuesdays, purely for
the fact that he almost never saw Regulus and his piercing eyes. Even better because he had
Quidditch practice with Sirius. Two wins in one day—that was enough to elevate it above a
Tuesday.

As the Slytherins cleared the pitch, the Gryffindors gathered at the edge, ready to take their
turn. James spotted Lily chatting animatedly with Marlene and Dorcas who was clad in her
Slytherin Quidditch uniform, just coming from the locker rooms. Laughter danced between
them, brightening the otherwise ordinary Wednesday afternoon.

“Hey, Lily!” James called with a flush, waving far too enthusiastically as he moved closer.

Lily turned, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. “James! Ready to crush Slytherin?”

“Always,” he replied, unable to contain the grin spreading across his face.

But as he stepped forward, he caught sight of a familiar figure lurking in the shadows,
lingering near the entrance to the locker room. It was Regulus Black, as usual, waiting for
Dorcas. He stood there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his expression unreadable. There
was something about the way he seemed to blend into the background, as if he were both part
of the scene and utterly apart from it.

James rolled his eyes, momentarily irritated. Why was he always lurking? But then again, he
supposed it made sense—Regulus was a Slytherin. They thrived on secrets and shadows.

“James?” Marlene’s voice pulled him back to the group. “You coming to practise or just
staring at Regulus?”

“Right, practice,” he said, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts. “I’m coming.”

As he jogged toward his teammates, he couldn’t help but glance back at Regulus one last
time. The boy stood there, as if he didn’t quite belong anywhere, and for a fleeting moment,
James felt a strange pang of curiosity mixed with his usual irritation. What was he even doing
there?

But he pushed the thought aside. Focus on Quidditch, focus on practice. Today was about
flying, not contemplating the enigmatic Slytherin lurking in the corners. After all,
Wednesdays were better than Tuesdays.

Once inside the locker room, James headed straight for his usual spot, the corner bench that
he claimed as his own territory. He tossed his bag down and began to change into his
Quidditch gear, shaking off the lingering thoughts of Regulus Black.

But as he reached for his jersey, something caught his eye—a folded piece of parchment
tucked neatly under his uniform. The familiar star shape made his heart race as he carefully
unfolded it, holding his breath.

Dear James,
I hope you won’t mind me intruding in your sacred locker space, but I simply couldn’t resist.

You may not know this, (though I’m sure you do since you’re as cocky as you are) but you
light up the pitch like no other. There’s something utterly mesmerising about the way you look
when you’re flying. The joy and passion radiate from you, outshining even the brightest stars
in the night sky. It’s like you were born for it.

I must confess, though—I’m not particularly invested in the match outcomes. Who wins or
loses is secondary to the sheer beauty of your flight. Just watching you soar is enough to
brighten even the dullest of days. I just hope you don’t take a tumble anytime soon. That
would be rather unfortunate, wouldn’t it?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Yours, Maybe.

James couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he read the note. It was sweet and
clever, a mixture of flattery and sarcasm that left him feeling lighter than air. This admirer
seemed to understand him in a way that few did, capturing his love for Quidditch with just
the right touch of humour.

But why was this person so secretive? And why hadn’t they signed their name? The mystery
tugged at his thoughts, even as he felt the thrill of the compliments wash over him. Was it
really possible that someone watched him so closely, enjoying his flights just for the sake of
seeing him in his element?

His excitement quickly dimmed as he recalled how he’d reacted to the first letter. Was this
really the same person? Was it someone different entirely? A knot of anticipation twisted in
his stomach as he tucked the letter safely into his pocket, just as Sirius burst into the locker
room.

“Oi, Potter! You ready to show those Slytherins how it’s done?” Sirius’s boisterous voice
snapped James back to reality.

“Yeah, sure, mate.”

Sirius, as always, was running late. “Aren’t you going to scold me for being late?”

“Later, mate.” James mumbled, still lost in thought, his mind swirling with the words from
the letter tucked in his pocket.

Sirius raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further, sensing that James was preoccupied.
Instead, he ruffled James's hair playfully before grabbing his broom. “I mean I’m not
complaining.”

James chuckled, pushing the lingering thoughts of Regulus and the letters aside as he focused
on the upcoming practice. After all, today was all about proving themselves on the pitch, not
about secrets and hidden admirers.

⚝
James couldn't concentrate at practice.

Every time he attempts to focus on the game, his mind drifts back to the letter—the
compliments, the snark, the mystery of its sender.

Sirius, ever the observant one, notices. “This is so unlike you!” he teases, a grin spreading
across his face. “What’s going on, Prongs? You’ve got that dreamy look again!”

“No, I don’t. It’s just this-” James replies, frustration lacing his voice. He pulls out the letter,
holding it up for Sirius to see. “-is so confusing.”

Sirius narrows his eyes as he examines the beautifully folded parchment. “That looks like—”
he begins, but then hesitates, squinting at the handwriting.

“Like what?” James presses, his curiosity piqued.

“Nothing. I’m probably imagining it,” Sirius brushes off quickly, but the slight frown on his
face suggests otherwise.

“I got one yesterday as well,” James admits, unable to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Sirius raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “What’s the big deal? You’re always getting
letters from your admirers.”

James huffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m just curious, alright?” He
glances around to make sure no one else is listening. “This one feels different. It’s not like the
usual compliments or cheesy pick-up lines. It’s… more personal.”

Sirius smirks, a knowing glint in his eye. “So, you’re telling me you’re actually interested in
one of your secret admirers?”

“Not like that!” James protests, his voice rising. “I just want to know who it is. There’s
something about the way they write, the way they seem to know me.”

“Sounds like you’ve got yourself a mystery,” Sirius says, crossing his arms and leaning back
against the locker. “A mystery that’s got you all flustered.”

James rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile creeping onto his face. “Yeah, well, you’d act the
same.”

“I would, yeah.” Sirius grins mischievously as he pulls out his own piece of parchment and
starts scribbling down.

James’s secret admirer:

Watches Quidditch
Sounds like an asshole

James scoffs, shaking his head. “They aren’t an asshole.”

“Yeah, right,” Sirius snickers, snatching the letter from James and reading it aloud
dramatically. “‘I just hope you don’t take a tumble anytime soon. That would be rather
unfortunate, wouldn’t it?’ Like that’s not weird and threatening at all.”

“Maybe they’re just awkward,” James shoots back, crossing his arms defensively.

“Or an asshole,” Sirius counters, a smirk on his lips.

James rolls his eyes and reaches for the parchment, snatching it back. “You’re ridiculous.” He
scrawls a correction under Sirius's notes.

James’s secret admirer:

Watches Quidditch
Sounds like an asshole / awkward

Sirius leans closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, so what’s the next step in your
investigation, Sherlock?”

“Who?” James raises an eyebrow, genuinely confused.

“It’s like a Muggle thing,” Sirius explains, rolling his eyes. “You know, the famous detective?
The one who solves mysteries and has a sidekick named Watson?”

“Right, right. Not a clue who that is,” James shrugs, grinning. “But I’m pretty sure I’m more
of a Watson than a Sherlock. I’m the one getting all the letters.”

Sirius sighs, feigning exasperation. “Well, you might want to step it up then, mate.”

James leans in, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I got another note.”

“Where is it?” Sirius asks, eyes wide with curiosity.

“In my bed,” James replies, a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

“You kept it in your bed?” Sirius gasps, barely containing his laughter. “Are you going to put
it under your pillow like a bloody love-struck first-year?”

James flushes bright red, stammering, “I—I just wanted to keep it safe, alright? It’s…
sentimental.”

“Sentimental?” Sirius cackles, slapping his knee. “Oh, Prongs, you’ve officially reached peak
romance. Next, you’ll be writing sonnets.”

“Shut it,” James mutters, trying to hide his embarrassment behind a smirk. “I can’t help it if
my admirer appreciates my charm.”

“Right, right,” Sirius says, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “So, what does this old
note say? Is it more of that cheeky snark or just mushy drivel?”
“Cheeky snark, actually,” James replies, trying to sound casual. “They said I’m worth
admiring because of how hard I try but they also said I can’t keep my mouth shut so.”

“Blimey, that’s almost poetic,” Sirius grins, nudging him playfully.“Are you sure you’re not
falling for your secret admirer? Maybe I should start calling you Lovebird instead of Prongs.”

“Very funny,” James retorts, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a smile. “I’m just curious,
okay? I want to figure out who this person is.”

“Alright, then let’s get back to sleuthing. Your bed is a treasure trove of secrets,” Sirius
teases, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Who knows? Maybe I'll find a love letter tucked away
in your socks next.”

“Fuck off,” James mutters, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. Sirius’s laugh only deepens his
embarrassment.

They make their way back to the common room, where the fire crackles warmly, casting a
glow across the scarlet and gold furnishings. James clutches the letter tightly, almost as if it’s
proof of something… something he hasn’t quite figured out yet. Maybe Sirius, with his
endless charm and wit, would know. And if not him, well, then Peter would. Peter knew
everything about everybody, the nosy git.

James loved him for it.

Once inside, he pulls Sirius toward a quieter corner. “Alright, so I kept this one from
yesterday,” James says, reaching into his bag and pulling out the familiar star-shaped letter.
He holds it out for Sirius, who eyes it with barely restrained curiosity.

Sirius unfolds it, eyes scanning the lines, his face flickering with interest. “Right, so they’re
poetic. Sweet on you. And snarky. Definitely sounds like Evans, mate. But then…” He trails
off, narrowing his eyes in thought. “You’re sure this was in your bag yesterday?”

“Positive. But what do you think?”

Sirius smirks, shrugging. “Evans could be playing hard to get, but it’s… unlikely. Maybe we
need a second opinion.”

“Peter?” James offers, a smile creeping back onto his face. If anyone could sniff out the truth,
it’d be Peter. They’d solve this mystery—no way he was going to be left in the dark much
longer.

“Peter,” Sirius agrees with a smirk.

They glance around the common room, searching for their resident detective. Peter’s tucked
away in a corner, nose deep in a book, scribbling something furiously in the margins. He
looks up just as they approach, eyeing them suspiciously.

“Alright, what have you two done now?” Peter asks, looking between them with mock
exasperation.
“Nothing illegal,” James grins, brandishing the letter. “We just need… your unparalleled
expertise.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “On?”

“Love letters,” Sirius says, deadpan.

Peter blinks, processing, then laughs. “Oh, this is rich. Mary’s going to love this one.” He
reaches out for the folded parchment, eyeing it like it’s a particularly juicy piece of gossip.

As Peter reads, James and Sirius wait in tense silence, watching every reaction flit across his
face.

“Well?” James finally prods. “Who do you think it is?”

Peter looks up, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “Oh, I have some theories… but where’s
the fun in just telling you?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sirius glares, but Peter just shrugs, returning to his book without a
second glance.

James steps in, switching tactics. “Peter, mate, you know you’re the best, right?” He leans in,
flashing his most charming grin.

Peter glances up, clearly enjoying the attention. “Oh, am I?” he says, looking thoroughly
pleased with himself.

“Absolutely,” James continues, pouring on the flattery. “No one in this castle is as clever, as
resourceful… or as connected as you are.”

Peter’s smug smile only grows, and he straightens in his seat. “Thanks, James,” he says,
soaking up the praise with a grin.

But still, Peter offers no input on the letter, the smug little menace that he is.

James sighs, loudly and dramatically, glancing pointedly in Peter’s direction.

Peter flips a page, ignoring him completely.

James sighs again, even louder this time, and Sirius joins in with a theatrical cough.

Finally, Peter huffs, clearly annoyed. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake—go bother Remus.”

“Fine,” James huffs, probably like a complete child, but it’s a bit more satisfying when Sirius
does the same, crossing his arms with a dramatic scoff.

Peter only rolls his eyes. “Are you two done?” he mutters, but there’s a smirk tugging at his
mouth.
“Quite,” Sirius says, sticking his nose up in a mock display of pureblood haughtiness, turning
away with a flourish.

James snorts, clapping Sirius on the back. “Bit too much, mate.”

As they head off in search of Remus, James nearly collides with someone rounding the
corner. His day sours instantly when he looks up.

Regulus Black.

James curses under his breath. "You're not supposed to be here."

Regulus's brow arches slightly, his expression as unreadable as ever. "I go to school here?”

James scowls. Twice on a Wednesday. He isn’t supposed to see Regulus twice on a

Wednesday.

Regulus mirrors his irritation, letting out an annoyed huff. “What have I even done to you?”

“Everything,” James snaps, the word spilling out before he even thinks about it. Because
Regulus had hurt Sirius, and Sirius was everything to James. He tightens his grip on the letter
and tries to push past him.

But Regulus’s eyes land on the crumpled parchment in James’s hand, and his expression
shifts, surprise flashing across his face. “Where did you get that?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Sirius cuts in, his glare as sharp as a blade.
Without waiting for a response, he tugs James by the sleeve. “Come on, Prongs, we don’t
have time for him.”

As they walk away, James glances over his shoulder. Regulus is frozen, his gaze lingering on
the letter in James’s hand, before he turns and strides back toward the Slytherin common
room, almost as if fleeing.

When they finally track down Remus, he’s tucked away in a corner of the library, nose buried
in a massive tome. He looks up as they approach, arching an eyebrow at Sirius’s expectant
look.

“Got no clue, sorry,” Remus says with a shrug, though the slight twitch at the corner of his
mouth makes Sirius squint suspiciously.

“Oh, really?” Sirius drawls, clearly unconvinced, but before he can launch into an
interrogation, Remus smoothly changes the subject, a teasing lilt in his voice as he flirts with
Sirius.

Sirius’s eyes light up, instantly charmed as he leans in closer.

James watches the exchange with a mix of amusement and disappointment. Your best friend
gets into a relationship, and suddenly, indulging you isn’t their priority anymore. He rolls his
eyes, feeling a pang of jealousy for the easy chemistry between them.
As Remus continues to distract Sirius with banter, James senses an opportunity slipping
away. He clears his throat, ready to ask again about the letter, but Remus deftly steers the
conversation into safer territory.

Realising he’s not going to get any answers here, James decides to flee, preserving what little
innocence he has left. He turns and slips out of the library, his mind still racing with
questions, the letter clutched tightly in his hand.

⚝
James liked Thursdays.

They had Transfiguration and Charms, two of his favourite Hogwarts classes, where he could
channel his energy into turning objects into something new and useful.

Even better, he shared those classes with Lily.

And even better still, he sat next to her, which made Thursdays feel like a mini celebration.
The way her eyes lit up when she understood a particularly tricky spell always made his heart
race. With each shared laugh and whispered comment during lessons, he found himself
looking forward to Thursdays.

James and Lily passed notes back and forth during class, their scribbling barely audible over
the sound of Professor McGonagall’s lecture. It was their little secret, a way to communicate
without drawing attention.

Lily’s handwriting flowed elegantly across the parchment, and she often added little doodles
in the margins—tiny flowers that seemed to bloom in time with their conversations. James
couldn’t help but smile at her creativity, his heart racing with every note exchanged.

“Did you study for the test?” he wrote, careful not to be too obvious as he slid the note
toward her.

Lily responded quickly, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she scribbled back, “Yes, because
unlike you Potter I have my priorities straight.” followed by a sketch of a sunflower winking
at him.

James chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through him. It was these moments that made
class bearable, and he found himself looking forward to every flick of her quill and every
teasing exchange.

“Do you have a spare quill?” Lily whispers, leaning in closer so only he can hear.

James raises an eyebrow, a teasing smirk on his face. “I thought you brought like four
spares.”

“Do you have a spare quill or not?” she insists, her voice low but urgent.

James sighs, rolling his eyes playfully as he reaches into his bag. That’s when his fingers
brush against the familiar star-shaped letter. A flicker of curiosity ignites within him, but he
quickly suppresses it, not wanting to distract himself from Lily’s charming presence.

“Here,” he says, pulling out an extra quill and handing it to her. “And while you’re at it, can
you make sure I don’t end up with a failed potion result?”

Lily laughs softly, taking the quill and glancing at him with a playful challenge in her eyes.
“No promises, Potter.”

As she starts doodling again, James can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and confusion
about the letter hidden in his bag. For now, he pushes those thoughts aside, content to enjoy
the moment with Lily.

⚝
Thursdays were a little less likeable because he had a class he hated. Even worse, he shared it
with Slytherins. The lectures dragged on, the professor’s voice droning in the background
like a lullaby designed to put him to sleep. He slumped in his seat, boredom creeping in as he
absentmindedly doodled in the margins of his parchment.

In a moment of distraction, he unfolded the star-shaped letter he'd tucked away. The familiar
handwriting danced before his eyes, and he felt a rush of warmth wash over him.

Dear James,

I didn’t send that second letter, but I did write it. You weren’t supposed to see it. I should have
known my friends would send it for me when I backed out. I’ve never been the bravest
person, but since you’ve seen them, I don’t see a point in stopping.

I did send the first one, though. I don’t know why I did it. Maybe I just had to say what I knew
I'd never be able to say to your face. That must sound idiotic, which is strange because I
promise you that I'm no idiot. Except when it comes to you, apparently.

You're no idiot either. So I wouldn’t be surprised if you found out who I was and then I was
utterly humiliated, but no going back now I suppose.

I’ve always found you to be shockingly one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. It surprises
me that more people don’t acknowledge it. You’re not just a great flyer; your ideas in class
and your quick thinking during games show how clever you really are. It’s as if everyone sees
you as just the Quidditch star, but they miss the depth behind it all. You’ve got this sharp
mind, James, and it deserves to be recognized.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Yours, Maybe

James pulls out Sirius’s list and adds to it.

James’s secret admirer:

Watches Quidditch
 Sounds like an asshole / awkward
Smart?
Nosy friends

He smiles to himself, feeling a sense of accomplishment in piecing together the puzzle.

“Something to share with the class?” the professor asks, a knowing glint in his eye.

“No, professor.” James tucks the list into his bag, embarrassed. Evan, a Slytherin sitting
nearby and one of Regulus’s friends, eyes him with a smirk. James glares at him, trying to
ignore the way his heart races at the thought of who could be behind the letters.

⚝
James loved Fridays.

No day could compare. Big things happened on Fridays—big games, big pranks, and big
promises of fun. Best of all, not a single class with Slytherins was shared on a Friday.
Regulus Black was never seen on Fridays, either. Only God knew where he disappeared to—
he was never in the Great Hall, the hallways, or the pitch. But James couldn’t care less. By
Friday, all his homework was completed, leaving him free to enjoy the day without worry.
The day that followed Friday was Saturday, so when one good day ended, another would
soon follow.

James loved Fridays.

As James turned in his homework at the front of the class, he felt a twinge of disappointment
when he didn’t spot a note tucked among his papers. Maybe in the locker room, he thought, a
flicker of hope igniting in his chest. The anticipation of finding a letter after the game added a
little extra pep to his step as he left the classroom.

James got ready for the game against Hufflepuff, content to enjoy his Friday just like he
always did. As he entered the locker room, he instinctively checked for a note. There wasn’t
one yet, but he smiled to himself, thinking, Later. Maybe after the game.

They won their game. Because, of course, they did. The victory was met with cheers and
jubilant celebrations, and as usual, a big party was thrown in the common room. James
grinned as he stepped inside, the lively atmosphere buzzing around him. Lily would be here,
he thought, his heart racing at the thought of seeing her. Maybe tonight would be the night
he’d find a note waiting for him, adding a hint of mystery to the festivities.

But as the night wore on, he searched every corner of the room, his excitement gradually
deflating. Despite the revelry and laughter surrounding him, there was no note in sight.
Disappointment settled in, mingling with the remnants of adrenaline from the game, but he
pushed it aside to enjoy the party. After all, there was still plenty of time for surprises.

As the party raged on, the excitement was palpable. Laughter and music echoed through the
common room, but James felt a different thrill building inside him. With a conspiratorial
glance at Sirius, he leaned in close. “Let’s sneak out and pull a prank. You in?”
Sirius’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Always,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face.
They quietly slipped out of the common room, leaving the party behind, the sound of revelry
fading as they headed down the corridors.

After a successful prank that involved a few startled Slytherins and a particularly sticky
charm, they returned, hearts racing and laughter bubbling over. As they stepped back into the
common room, they found Remus and Peter lounging casually, feigning innocence.

“What did you two get up to?” Remus asked, arching an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth
twitching in amusement.

“Just a little fun,” James replied with a wink, trying to sound nonchalant as they headed to
their dormitory.

Once inside, James eagerly rifled through his belongings, hoping against hope for a note. But
the familiar flutter of paper was nowhere to be found. Disappointment gnawed at him as he
flopped onto his bed, glancing over at Sirius, who was already in the midst of plotting their
next adventure.

“Are you seriously looking for another note?” Sirius teased sitting up, a hint of sympathy
creeping into his tone.

“Yes,” James admitted immediately, realising there was no point in lying to Sirius. It was
better to be honest about his hopes.

Sirius sighed dramatically, flopping back onto his own bed. “Maybe they’re just busy?”

“Yeah, maybe,” James replied, but the optimism in his voice fell flat. The room felt unusually
quiet, and he glanced around, half-expecting to see the familiar flutter of parchment. But
nothing materialised.

As the silence stretched, James couldn’t shake the growing disappointment. The thrill of the
day faded, and he found himself staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of unmet
expectations settle on his chest.

“Hey, don’t look so glum,” Sirius said, breaking into his thoughts. “It’s just one note. You’ve
got a big day tomorrow.”

“Right,” James replied, forcing a smile. “I guess it’s just—”

“Just what?” Sirius prodded, leaning forward.

James hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s just that I thought... I don’t know. I was
looking forward to it, I guess.”

Sirius’s expression softened. “Next time.”

James nodded, but the words felt empty. He turned back to the ceiling, the promise of
tomorrow barely easing the disappointment of tonight.
No letter comes and James loves Friday a little less.

⚝
James woke up early on Saturdays.

While most people revelled in the luxury of sleeping in, he found the thought of it made him
feel lazy and discontent. Instead, he relished the quiet of the morning, the world outside
Hogwarts still wrapped in the soft embrace of dawn.

With a quick change of clothes, he slipped out of the dormitory, heart racing with anticipation
as he made his way to the grounds. The crisp morning air filled his lungs, invigorating him as
he settled into a steady pace, the rhythmic sound of his footsteps echoing against the stone
pathways. He ran until the sun broke through the horizon, illuminating the world in hues of
orange and gold.

When he returned to the Gryffindor common room, a pleasant fatigue settled in his bones. He
pushed open the door, expecting the familiar chaos of his friends, but was met with the sight
of Sirius lounging on his bed, propped up on his elbows with a mischievous grin.

“This was in my bag,” Sirius said, holding up a folded piece of parchment as James blinked
his eyes open, the remnants of sleep clinging to him like a fog.

“From yesterday?” James mumbled, his voice still thick with grogginess.

“No. I know it wasn't there yesterday,” Sirius replied, his brow furrowing in confusion. He
glanced down at the parchment, turning it over as if expecting some sort of explanation to
reveal itself.

James sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You think they got in our dorm?” The thought
sent a jolt of adrenaline through him, a mix of intrigue and concern bubbling beneath the
surface.

Remus, who had been lounging comfortably on Sirius's bed, looked up from where he was
propped against the pillows. “No way. I doubt anyone would risk sneaking into our
dormitory, especially not with the wards and the enchantments in place.” He stretched lazily,
the sun casting a warm glow over him. “It’s probably a clever spell. It just sort of appeared
there. I saw it.”

James leaned closer, curiosity piqued. “You saw it appear?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “I was half-asleep when it
happened. One moment, his bag was just sitting there, and the next, that letter popped into
existence. It was… interesting.”

“Interesting?” Sirius echoed, his tone teasing.

“Yes, love, interesting,” Remus insisted, rolling his eyes.

Sirius coughed out, “Nerd,” and James couldn't help but chuckle at their playful banter.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Moony,” James replied, leaning closer to get a better
look at the letter as Sirius continued to read.

Sirius smirked but couldn’t resist adding, “Though I have to admit, you being a ‘nerd’ only
adds to your charm.”

“Careful, Padfoot, I might just have to write you a letter of my own,” Remus shot back, his
tone light but with an undercurrent of seriousness.

“Dear Sirius, your taste in friends is questionable…”

“Stop!” James laughed, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. “Focus on the letter!”

Sirius flipped the parchment over, still smirking. “Right, right, let’s get back to the mystery of
the secret admirer.”

James impatiently snatched the letter from him. “Did you read it?”

“No,” Sirius said honestly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I really wanted to.”

James unfolded the star-shaped letter with a sense of anticipation, his heart racing as he read
the familiar handwriting:

James,

You're lucky you don’t have siblings. It might have turned you into a little bit of an attention
seeker, but at least you don’t stay awake at night wondering where you went wrong.

Sometimes I wish I was born someone else. Someone better and less like myself. Then I
wouldn’t lose the love that I'd come into this world with. It feels weird watching someone
who’s loved you since childhood grow to despise you.

I wish I was more likeable. More brave.

I wish for a lot of things. I wish I knew why you didn’t like me.

I wish I knew why someone who loved so brightly and so kindly won’t even give me a second
thought.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Yours, maybe

As he read the words, James felt a pang of empathy mixed with confusion. The raw honesty
struck a chord within him, and he couldn’t help but wonder about the person behind the
letters. Who felt so alone, so burdened by their own insecurities?

“Oi, Prongs, what’s it say?” Sirius interrupted, leaning over to peek.

“Nothing,” James replied quickly, folding the letter back up. “It’s just… personal.”
“Personal, eh? You can tell us. We’re your friends,” Sirius pressed, his curiosity piqued.

James glanced at Remus, who was watching him intently. “It’s just... it’s complicated.
They’re feeling a lot of things. It’s not easy for them.”

“Sounds like it’s more than just a simple crush,” Remus mused thoughtfully.

“Yeah, well, it’s not my place to share their secrets,” James defended, feeling protective of
the mystery admirer. “I just… I want to help them, somehow.”

“Help them? What are you going to do, write them a heartfelt letter in return?” Sirius teased,
but the playful tone couldn’t mask the concern in his eyes.

“Maybe,” James said, his mind racing with possibilities. “Maybe I’ll just be there for them.
Whoever they are.”

James sat on his bed, staring at the new piece of parchment before him, filled with details
about his secret admirer. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was getting closer to
uncovering the truth, but the clues still felt scattered.

James’s secret admirer:

Watches Quidditch
Sounds like an asshole / awkward
Smart?
Nosy friends
Estranged Sibling
A little insecure :(
Lily?

His brow furrowed as he wrote down Lily's name. The idea both thrilled and terrified him.
Did she really fit the description? She certainly watched Quidditch—he’d seen her cheering
from the stands more times than he could count. And they often had those wonderfully
awkward conversations filled with flirtation and nervous laughter, which could be interpreted
as her being “awkward.”

James recalled a conversation he had with her not too long ago. She had opened up about her
sister, how they’d had a rough patch, filled with jealousy and resentment. It made him
wonder, though. Why would Lily think he hated her? He had always viewed her in a friendly
way, more than friendly, if he was honest with himself.

That didn’t quite add up.

Could she possibly feel the same way his admirer did?

“No, that’s absurd,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if to dismiss the
thought.

He needed more evidence. If Lily was the admirer, surely there would be something—some
sign he’d missed. A moment they shared, an innocent glance that lingered just a second too
long. But no, it couldn’t be her. It just couldn’t.

His mind raced with questions, but one thought stood out above the rest: he had to find a way
to talk to her, to gauge whether she might be the one pouring her heart out in secret letters.

James flipped the parchment back over and began jotting down more potential suspects,
trying to keep his options open.

James’s secret admirer:

Watches Quidditch
Sounds like an asshole / awkward
Smart?
Nosy friends
Estranged Sibling
A little insecure :(
Lily?

James bit the end of his quill. He leaned back on his bed, running a hand through his hair as
he stared at the empty list of potential suspects.

Pandora??

The name rolled around in his mind. He could picture her perched in the stands, her blonde
hair glowing in the sunlight as she cheered for the Gryffindor team. She had friends in every
house after all. But could she really be the one behind those heartfelt letters?

She had a brother—Evan. The idea of Pandora being his secret admirer surprised him, but it
also made a strange kind of sense. She was quirky and often felt a little out of place, but she
was undeniably intelligent in her own unique way. Maybe she was more than he’d given her
credit for.

Yet, they hadn’t spoken much beyond the occasional pleasantries in the corridors. Could she
really harbour feelings for him without him even noticing?

James shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was overthinking, as usual, but there
was something about the way the letters spoke of loss and insecurity that tugged at him.

On the opposite side of things, could it be Evan himself? The weirdo had been staring at him
the other day.

James sighs.

Evan?

His secret admirer could be anyone, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing
something important. He glanced at the letter again, feeling its weight in his hands.

He couldn’t let this go. Not yet.

 ⚝
Saturdays were nice because they were quiet.

Not much happened, but in a good way. After the whirlwind of a Friday night filled with
celebrations and a bit of chaos, Saturdays offered a welcome respite. James loved how the
sun streamed through the Gryffindor common room windows, casting warm golden light
across the floor as he lounged on a worn sofa, surrounded by his friends.

He and Sirius often kicked back with a pile of snacks, engaging in what they called
“intelligent discourse,” which usually involved debating the best Quidditch plays of the week
or recounting the most ridiculous pranks they had pulled. Remus, ever the voice of reason,
would roll his eyes but secretly join in, adding his own clever commentary. Peter usually
joined them, always ready with a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, happily munching
away while contributing his two Knuts worth.

“Oi, Prongs! You’ve got to try this flavour! It’s… um, very interesting,” Peter said, popping a
bright green bean into his mouth, his face contorting into a look of mild horror as he realised
he’d bitten into a nasty flavour.

“Interesting? That’s a generous term,” James laughed, leaning back comfortably. “I’m pretty
sure that’s either vomit or grass. Probably both.”

Laughter filled the room, and the camaraderie wrapped around them like a warm blanket.
They spent their afternoons plotting ridiculous pranks on unsuspecting first years or
discussing the latest gossip circulating through Hogwarts. Saturdays were for doing stupid
things, like attempting to transfigure a pillow into a cat or staging a duel with water balloons
in the courtyard, and James wouldn’t have it any other way.

Yet, even amidst the laughter, there was a subtle current of anticipation. James couldn’t shake
the feeling of curiosity about his secret admirer. He’d tried to keep it at the back of his mind,
but thoughts of the letters lingered like the taste of butterbeer. He wondered if the quiet of
Saturday could somehow lead to a moment of clarity—perhaps he’d bump into Pandora, and
all the questions swirling in his mind would finally find their answers.

For now, though, he leaned into the joy of the day, letting the warmth of friendship wash over
him. No homework, no pressure, just time spent with the people who mattered most. And
maybe, just maybe, a spark of something new waiting to ignite.

⚝
Sundays were okay.

But they were definitely James's least favourite day after a Tuesday. As the sun rose higher in
the sky, the reality of the coming school week loomed like a dark cloud on the horizon. The
thrill of the previous day's shenanigans faded, replaced by the weight of unfinished
homework and the dread of classes that felt too far away to grasp yet too close to ignore.
Remus, the ever-diligent one, would inevitably rally the troops, insisting they make a trip to
the library or to the common room to get a head start on their assignments. James couldn’t
deny that the library had its charm, with its towering shelves filled with endless tomes and
the smell of old parchment wafting through the air. Still, he could name at least ten things
he’d rather be doing: flying on the pitch, pranking the Slytherins, or even just lounging by the
lake, soaking up the sun with a good book—preferably not about schoolwork.

As he meandered down to the common room, the thought of Remus calling them all to order
filled him with a mix of anticipation and dread. Sure enough, as he entered, he found Remus
already sitting at their usual table, stacks of books surrounding him like a fortress. Sirius was
sprawled out on the couch, flipping through a Quidditch magazine, and Peter was snacking
on chocolate frogs, blissfully unaware of the impending doom of homework.

“Oi, Prongs! You’re late!” Sirius called out, smirking. “We’ve almost finished our five-page
essay on the significance of the Goblin Rebellion in modern wizarding politics.”

“Very amusing, Padfoot,” James replied dryly, rolling his eyes. “But seriously, do we have
to?”

“Absolutely,” Remus said, looking up from his notes, a faint smile playing on his lips. “The
sooner we get this done, the sooner we can enjoy ourselves.”

James sighed, knowing Remus was right. He settled into a chair, pulling out his quill and
parchment, resigned to the inevitable. With every stroke of his quill, he felt the heaviness of
Sunday settle in, but he tried to focus on the task at hand. Maybe he could slip in a few
sketches or doodles along the margins to make it less painful.

An hour later, the common room felt stifling, and James’s patience was wearing thin.

“I need a book,” Remus muttered as he got up from their table, stretching his arms above his
head.

“I’ll get it,” James said, eager to escape the dullness of the study session and stall for just a
bit longer.

As he wandered to the library and through the aisles, he found himself drawn to the back
corner, where the light barely filtered through the tall windows. There, tucked away among
the shelves, was Regulus.

Of course he’d be in the bloody library.

James peered through a gap between two books, heart racing as he watched Regulus flip
through the pages of a thick volume, his brow furrowed in concentration. The way Regulus
bit his lip slightly while reading caught James off guard. It was infuriating how much he felt
drawn to him, and he didn’t know why.

What are you doing, James? He chided himself, shaking his head. You’re supposed to be here
for homework, not to watch him read. But still, he couldn’t look away.
Regulus looked peaceful, content even, as he flipped through the pages. If James didn’t hate
the guy so much, he might even say Regulus looked pretty in that moment. But that thought
was quickly brushed aside.

Just as James was about to back away and head back to his friends, he noticed Barty
approaching from behind. With a playful grin, Barty snuck up on Regulus, startling him.

“Gotcha!” Barty exclaimed, laughter in his voice.

Regulus jumped slightly, then chuckled, shaking his head in mock annoyance. “You could’ve
given me a heart attack, you know.”

James found himself leaning in slightly, curiosity piqued as he overheard their conversation.
Barty leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “So, did you write it yet?”

“Not yet,” Regulus admitted, his voice low.

“You won’t have much time to give it to him if you wait any longer,” Barty pressed, a teasing
edge to his tone.

“I made a spell, it's fine,” Regulus replied, a hint of confidence creeping into his voice.

James's heart raced as he strained to hear more. A spell? What kind of spell was Regulus
talking about? He felt an inexplicable urge to barge in and confront Regulus about his plans,
but he knew that would only give away his position.

Barty raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Should’ve expected that.”

James sighed. There was no point in listening to Regulus Black and Barty Crouch Jr. discuss
what was probably just homework in the library. He thought back to the book that Remus
wanted. Something on Goblins? He remembered the title vaguely.

Unfortunately for him, it was on the shelf that Barty was blocking.

James considered his options, fidgeting with the edges of the book he was hiding behind. He
could either wait and hope Barty moved on or take a chance and confront them both. But
what if Regulus caught him eavesdropping? The last thing he wanted was for Regulus to
think he was interested in whatever was going on between him and Barty.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, torn between his desire to know more and
his instinct to avoid the two of them. Just as he decided to back away and return to Remus
empty-handed, he heard Regulus say, “I just don’t know if he’ll even want it. What if he
laughs?”

James’s heart skipped a beat. Who was Regulus talking about? He leaned in a little closer,
hoping to catch more of the conversation without being noticed.

Barty waved a hand dismissively. “If he laughs, that just means he’s an idiot. You deserve to
say something. You’ve liked him for ages.”
James’s stomach twisted. This was not what he expected to hear. Regulus had a crush? But on
who? He fought the urge to step out from his hiding place and demand answers, knowing that
revealing himself now would only complicate things further.

“I have not,” Regulus huffed, crossing his arms defensively.

“You have,” Barty replied with a teasing grin. “Remember in second year when—”

“You said you would never bring that up!” Regulus shot back, his cheeks flushing.

James barely held back a laugh as he watched the exchange unfold. It was almost amusing to
see Regulus, usually so composed, get flustered by Barty’s playful jabs.

Barty smirked, clearly enjoying Regulus’s discomfort. “Oh, but it’s too good to forget! You
practically swooned over him when he scored that goal. Like you were basically drooling like
a bloody dog and-”

Regulus rolled his eyes, looking both embarrassed and exasperated. “That was ages ago,
Barty! You’re not helping.”

James’s heart raced. So Regulus had a crush on someone who played Quidditch. It was a
small clue, but it sparked a flurry of thoughts in his mind. Could it be someone on the
Slytherin team? He mentally went through the players, trying to connect the dots.

Barty leaned closer, still teasing. “Look, if you’re so worried about him laughing, just
remember—he’s not like that. You’re overthinking it.”

“He is with me,” Regulus sighed, his frustration palpable.

Just as Barty was about to respond, he turned and glared at the bookshelf where James was
hiding. “Potter. I can see you.”

James’s heart dropped, caught in the act. He straightened up, the sudden exposure feeling like
a spotlight had been turned on him. “Uh, hi,” he stammered, forcing a grin despite the
embarrassment creeping into his cheeks.

Barty’s smirk widened. “You eavesdropping, Potter?”

“Of course not! I was just… looking for a book!” James fumbled, his eyes darting around,
searching for a plausible excuse. “A book on Goblins!” He gestured vaguely, hoping to
deflect the attention.

Regulus rolled his eyes, clearly not buying it. “Right. Because you’d definitely come to the
library to actually study.”

“Actually, I did come here to study,” James lies, trying to regain some composure while
simultaneously redirecting the focus. “Not to listen to gossip about your silly crush,”

“It isn’t silly,” Regulus whispered more to himself, his cheeks tinged pink.
James raised an eyebrow, surprised by the quiet intensity in Regulus’s voice. “Oh? It’s not?”
He leaned against the bookshelf, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yes, it’s not,” Regulus said defensively, looking James up and down with what must have
been annoyance.

“...Right, whatever you say. Can you move so I can get my book though, Black?” James
replied, trying to keep his irritation in check.

“Barty’s the one in the way, not me,” Regulus shot back, crossing his arms.

“Okay, then can you both move?” James insisted, raising an eyebrow.

Barty laughed, glancing at Regulus. “What do you say, Reg? Shall we give Potter his
precious book?”

Regulus sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Fine, but only because I have to get back to
studying.” He stepped aside, allowing James to reach the shelf.

As James grabbed the book, he couldn’t resist a parting jab. “Studying, huh? Is that what
we’re calling it now?”

Regulus shot James a look that was both annoyed and amused, but he didn’t say anything
else. At least this time, he actually spoke to him. He didn’t ignore him or turn away
immediately. James could vaguely hear Barty whispering something to Regulus, and then he
caught Regulus's sharp response of, “Shut up, Barty.”

The immediate silence that followed felt almost like a victory to James. He grabbed the book
he needed and turned to leave, but not before feeling a strange sense of connection to
Regulus.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that Regulus seemed a little more like a person now, even if he
was still annoyingly aloof. As he walked away, he couldn’t help but glance back at Regulus
and Barty, who were now in quiet conversation. There was something about the way
Regulus’s lips curved into a smirk as he pushed Barty playfully that tugged at James’s
curiosity.

⚝
The letter came at night.

This time, James found it nestled within the pages of the Goblin book as he was on his way
to return it. It could have been anyone after he’d taken it from the library. But most likely a
Gryffindor if they’d placed it in themselves.

James,

The letter began, and as he read on, he could feel his heart racing.

You were my first ever crush.

 I was completely starstruck by you, but then you opened your mouth. I’ll admit it—I thought
you were a prick and decided to hate you for it. But then I saw the kindness underneath, even
if it wasn't always directed at everyone.

James paused, his brow furrowing as he mulled over the words. A mixture of nostalgia and
confusion washed over him. Had he really left that kind of impression? Had he changed that
much over the years?

You don’t know how hard it is to be enamoured with someone who’s so much more outgoing
than I am. I wish I could tell you how much your laughter brightens the day and how your
bravery inspires me. But I’m also terrified of how you’d react. After all, you’ve been the talk
of the school, and I’m just a shadow in the background.

The lines resonated with him, and he felt a twinge of empathy. Was this person really hiding
behind the curtain, silently admiring him?

I guess I’m writing this to say that I see you—not just the person everyone else sees, but the
one who cares deeply and tries his best. Maybe one day you’ll notice me, too.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Yours, Maybe.

James's mind raced as he pondered who could have written such a heartfelt letter. A part of
him felt flattered, but another part of him felt a sense of responsibility to find out who was
behind the words.

James writes a note.

Maybe. Just maybe. They’d find it.

James took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as he crafted his note.
He wanted to convey his genuine interest without coming on too strong.

Star,

I hope you see this because I have some questions.

A lot of them, actually.

What should I call you? I figured I’d call you star for now but I was wondering if you have a
preference.

I know I'd certainly prefer your name.

Is there any way I can talk to you? Are we friends? Why do you think I hate you?

I can assure you I don’t hate many people. Only two wizards come to mind, and they’re both
dark-haired Slytherin pricks. I doubt you’re a dark-haired Slytherin prick.
I promise that I have noticed you, and I’d like to continue doing so—just in a different way, if
you’d let me?

—James

He finished the note with a flourish and doodled small stars along the edge, something to add
a personal touch. James chuckled softly at his own lack of origami skills; the note may not be
perfect, but he hoped the sincerity of his words would shine through.

After ensuring the book was securely placed back on the shelf, he left the library, a newfound
sense of hope blooming within him. Maybe, just maybe, this secret exchange would lead to
something more—something real.

⚝
Mondays were often mild, the kind of day that felt like a blank canvas waiting for colour.

But for James, this particular Monday morning began with a restless night. He woke up far
earlier than he intended, staring at the ceiling as thoughts whirled in his mind like leaves
caught in a gust of wind.

Will they see it? The question lingered, gnawing at him. He tossed and turned, unable to
shake the anxiety that had settled in his chest.

Eventually, surrendering to his restless thoughts, James threw off his covers and got out of
bed. The castle was still shrouded in the soft light of dawn as he made his way to the
Quidditch pitch, hoping that the physical exertion would clear his mind.

As he arrived, he felt the crisp morning air against his skin, invigorating him. He grabbed his
broomstick, the familiar weight of it providing a sense of comfort.

James hovered in the air, gripping his broomstick tighter as he spotted him.

Regulus Black.

Of course it was Regulus.

The guy seemed to pop up everywhere James went, like a dark cloud always on the horizon.

Regulus was flying, cutting through the morning sky with an effortless grace that
momentarily stole James's breath away. His hair whipped around his face, framing it in a way
that almost made him look… free. It was a striking contrast to the prickly demeanour James
was used to.

James felt an unexpected tug of admiration. Regulus navigated the air with a confidence that
seemed to defy the weight of his family name. Watching him, James couldn't help but wonder
what it felt like to be that unfettered, that alive.

As Regulus soared higher, James's competitive spirit ignited. He grinned, the familiar thrill of
challenge sparking within him. Why not? James thought, urging his broom into action. He
flew toward Regulus, the distance between them narrowing with each stroke.

“Hey, Black!” he called out, his voice carrying on the wind. “Think you can keep up?”

Regulus turned, surprise flickering across his features before it transformed into that
trademark annoyed expression. “Potter! What are you doing here this early?”

“Just enjoying the quiet,” James replied, matching Regulus's speed as they soared through the
air. “Care to race?”

Regulus blinked, clearly taken aback. “I’m—what?”

“I said, care to race?” James repeated, his excitement bubbling over.

“No. I heard you, I’m just shocked you’re talking to me.”

James felt a flicker of annoyance at Regulus's response, but he quickly masked it with a grin.
“What, you think you’re too good to talk to me?”

James scoffed, shaking his head.

Typical.

Here he was, extending an olive branch in the form of a race, and Regulus was acting like he
was being offered a poison apple. It was as if he could feel the barriers of Regulus's aloofness
solidifying in the air between them.

“Come on, Black,” James urged, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “You’re not that
special.”

Regulus’s brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment, James thought he might actually take
the bait. But then the corner of Regulus's mouth twitched, and that familiar spark of mischief
lit up his eyes.

“I know. It’s not that, it’s just that you hate me?” Regulus replied, a hint of uncertainty lacing
his voice.

“How does that prevent us from racing?” James shot back, his brow raised. The confirmation
that James actually hated him made Regulus frown.

“I’m tired, and I don’t want to,” he insisted, crossing his arms as if to shield himself from any
further conversation.

“Then why are you out here?” James asked, genuinely puzzled.

“I was bored. Couldn’t sleep,” Regulus admitted, his gaze drifting toward the horizon where
the sun was just beginning to rise.

“Oh. Yeah, same.” James let out a small laugh, feeling a bit of the tension ease between them.
It was strange to find common ground with someone he’d always seen as an adversary.
“Why do you hate me so much?” Regulus whispered, fiddling with his broom, his gaze fixed
on the ground below.

“Why do you hate me so much?” James retorted, surprised by the intensity of his own
question.

Regulus paused for a moment before answering, his voice calm. “I don’t.”

And oh. That made things a little more awkward.

James scratched the back of his head, feeling the weight of the silence grow. “Well, Sirius
hates you. Shouldn’t that be reason enough?” he said, trying to mask his discomfort with
humour.

“Sirius hates a lot of things. Why is this any different?” Regulus asked, his brow furrowing
slightly.

James paused, realising he had a point. But it wasn't just Sirius, was it? “You act like I don’t
exist,” he replied, the frustration creeping into his voice.

Regulus met his gaze, his expression turning thoughtful. “That’s not true,” he said slowly.
“You’re… you’re loud. It’s hard to ignore that.”

“Yet you do,” James countered, crossing his arms defiantly.

“I don’t,” Regulus insisted, his voice firm.

“You do,” James pressed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re practically a ghost half the
time. Just floating around, avoiding everyone.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were trying to suppress a
smile. “I’m not a ghost. I just prefer to be… less visible.”

James arched an eyebrow, intrigued. “Less visible? You mean hiding?”

“Not hiding. Just… observing,” Regulus replied, his tone defensive.

“Observing? So you’re a secretive Slytherin spy now?” James joked, trying to lighten the
mood.

“Hardly. I’m just trying to figure things out without making a scene,” Regulus shot back, but
there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

James laughed, shaking his head. “Well, you’re doing a terrible job at it if you think I’m
going to let you off the hook. I see you, you know.”

Regulus looked at him, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “See me how?”

“You’re everywhere,” James said simply, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in
the world.
Regulus went silent at that, his gaze dropping to the ground below as he fiddled with his
broom, lost in thought.

“See? You won’t even talk to me now,” James pointed out.

Regulus shifted slightly, avoiding James's gaze. “I just… didn’t expect you to say that,” he
replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Why not?” James pressed, his curiosity piqued. “It’s true. You’re always around, just lurking
in the background. You can’t deny that.”

“I guess I never thought you noticed,” Regulus admitted, his brow furrowing as he pondered
the revelation.

“Of course I noticed!” James exclaimed, a little too passionately. “It’s hard not to. You’re like
this shadow that’s always there during Quidditch matches or in class, but you never really
engage. Why is that?”

Regulus hesitated, his fingers gripping the broom tighter. “Maybe I just prefer being unseen,”
he said, his tone defensive.

“Unseen? Why would you want that?” James challenged, genuinely intrigued. “Don’t you
ever want to be part of the action? To be seen?”

Regulus paused, the question hanging in the air between them. “It’s complicated,” he finally
muttered, looking off into the distance.

“Try me,” James said, a hint of encouragement in his voice. “I can handle complicated.”

Regulus met his gaze again, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other, both feeling
the weight of unspoken words. “I don’t know if you can,” he replied slowly. “You’ve got
your whole world and your friends, and I’m just… me.”

“Just you?” James scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You’re not just anything, Regulus.
There’s more to you than whatever you think you are. You’re just… hiding.”

Regulus looked taken aback, his mouth opening slightly as he processed the words.
“Hiding?” he echoed.

“Yeah,” James said, softening his tone. “But maybe it’s time to step out of the shadows, you
know? Let me see you for who you really are. Maybe then I'd hate you a little less.”

Regulus stared at him, uncertainty etched on his face. “You really want to know me?”

“Absolutely,” James replied with a smile. “So, what do you say? Want to start with a race?”

Regulus hesitated, a small smile creeping onto his lips. “I suppose I could humour you.”

“Great!” James exclaimed, feeling a rush of excitement. “On three!”

As they counted together, the air between them felt lighter, the tension easing into something
more hopeful.

⚝
He gets Monday’s letter when he comes back from flying. It’s earlier than normal, and
everyone is still in bed, the common room bathed in the soft light of dawn. The star shape,
catches his eye immediately.

James quickly tears it open, his heart racing with anticipation.

James,

You’re one of the strangest people I've ever had to try and figure out. I’m usually good at that
sort of thing. You tend to be when you know so much about everyone. You can tell a lot by
watching. But honestly, sometimes you're a bit of an enigma. It’s interesting and means that I
can’t look away no matter how hard I try.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Yours, maybe

James rereads the note, a grin spreading across his face. The words dance in his mind,
intriguing and inviting. He can almost hear the writer’s voice, teasing yet sincere. It stirs
something within him—a thrill of connection, a sense of curiosity about who could be behind
such a letter.

He places it back in the envelope, his thoughts racing as he ponders the mystery.

Next to the regular letter is a note. He recognises the handwriting immediately.

Star is fine.

A response. James’s heart quickens.

Star is fine. Write on this and I'll see it. No guarantee that I'll respond.

They hadn’t answered the questions he’d posed in his last note, but it was still a response, and
that was enough for him.

James smiles to himself, the thrill of the exchange igniting his excitement. He glances around
the common room, making sure no one else is awake to witness his moment of giddiness.
The idea of conversing with this mystery person makes him feel a rush of energy.

With a determination that feels both reckless and exhilarating, he takes out a fresh piece of
parchment, letting his quill dance across the page.

Star,

I’m glad you’re willing to talk. I can’t promise to be less strange, but I’ll do my best.
Curiously, James
 The Language of Ink
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

James liked Tuesdays.

They might be dull, predictable, and loaded with homework. They might be the one day he
wouldn’t pull pranks and the one day Slytherin occupied the pitch. Even worse, the one day
that James is guaranteed to see Regulus Black and the one day he isn’t guaranteed to see
Lily.

Tuesday might just be a pretty shitty day overall, but they were the only days when he’d get a
response.

It'd been two weeks since James got the first letter. He’d gotten various ones since.

He’d enjoyed them all equally.

Last Mondays:

Dear James,

I’ve always enjoyed reading. All sorts of things but muggle literature especially. It was
different to the books that I’d grown up with, so naturally my curiosity had drawn me to it.
I’d always thought that curiosity was a dangerous thing but with something as harmless as
books? Well, there was no point in dwelling on the consequences.

I was reading Great Expectations the other day. I like it well enough but I especially liked
this line:

‘I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness,
against all discouragement that could be.” - Charles Dickens.

It reminded me of you.

My feelings for you defy logic, yet I can’t seem to let go of them.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Yours, Maybe.

Last Tuesdays:

Dear James,

You shouldn’t be funny.

Your pranks are downright stupid. Sure, they might work, but most of the time people stare
because of the shock value, not the cleverness of them.

Your jokes are predictable. Anyone with anything resembling a brain would be able to work
out the punch line before you’ve even told half of the joke.

And yet, somehow, I laugh everytime.

It’s ridiculous and clearly I need to reevaluate my own sense of humour. Especially because
the jokes aren’t even directed at me.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Yours, Maybe.

Last Wednesdays:

Dear James,

Do you have a favourite flower? Do you even like flowers? You must since you're always at
the gardening club that was set up a few weeks ago.

At the risk of sounding basic I’ve always had an affinity for red roses, though I’m also quite
fond of Devil’s Snare.

It’s beautiful but dangerous. I think I’ve always gravitated to things like that. Must run in the
family.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Yours, Maybe.

James had written a short note back.

Star,

At the risk of sounding even more basic than you, I love sunflowers.

They’re tall and bright and they stick out next to any flower you put it next to. They bask in
the light that they always turn to face. I guess that's sort of how I’d like people to see me.

Daisies are nice too though.

If I knew who you were, I’d love to get you flowers someday?

James

He’d found flowers the next day but no response to his question.

They made him smile regardless.

These letters went on and on. However, there was one day when silence reigned—Friday. No
letters ever arrived on Fridays, and while it made James frown, it also deepened his curiosity.

He couldn’t help but ask about it:

Star,

I know I sound greedy for your attention, and in a way, I am. But I still have to ask—why is
there never a letter on Friday?

James

Of course, he didn’t get an answer to his question.

It didn’t deter him; he just kept receiving the letters with a smile on his face. He’d especially
liked the one he’d gotten two weeks ago on Saturday—a charming acrostic poem about the
sun that spelled his name out in bold.

Dear James,

Here's my awful attempt at poetry. My friends say it's romantic—well, one of my friends does.
I think it’s just embarrassing.After all, no matter how hard I pretend to be, I’m not a poet. But
if this puts that smile on your face, the one that shines brighter than the sun?

Well, I figured it’d be worth a shot.

J oyful as dawn, you bring light to my world.

A lways warm in so many ways.

M y thoughts of you dance like sunbeams in the sky.

E very ring of laughter shared shines like light.

S eriously, you make everything bright.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Yours, Maybe.

That more than anything left him flushed for days.

Sometimes, short notes replaced the long paragraphs.

You look pretty today. - Star

That note had left James warm for the rest of the Wednesday that he'd received it. He'd be
called fit plenty of times, even hot on occasion, and the odd handsome or gorgeous had been
thrown his way. But pretty?

He liked it more than he should have.

He enjoyed the notes and letters, but nothing could compare to the responses he received on
Tuesdays. Those were the days he always got a reply. Sometimes the notes turned into long
conversations, and last Tuesday, he’d spent the night tucked in bed, his hand covered in ink
and cramping from writing for so long with his quill.

Star,

I got your letter. It was sweet even if you try to disguise it by being so mean.

I’ll have you know my pranks are extremely clever! Plus I’m not even the one that plans half
of them, Remus does most of the work and you can’t deny that he’s really fucking smart.

James

You don’t need to sign your name. I know it’s from you.

You sign all your letters though - James

For aesthetic purposes. And this isn’t a letter. It’s a conversation.

Well ok then. Maybe I want to sign our conversation for aesthetic purposes – James

You’re an idiot

You like it. After all, you're probably rolling over with laughter right now. You did say I was
funny in your letter today. – James

I lied.

No you didn’t. – James

And honestly, there are worse people that you could find funny. – James

Seriously doubt that.

They’d continued like that all night—until they hit a certain point.

Eh, I don’t know. I think I prefer Potions. - James

Pandora always says the same thing.

Oh? So you’re friends with Pandora? - James

The conversation ended after that. They'd gotten better at being secretive since then. Still, he
spent the rest of that night and into the morning puzzling out who it could be. It felt like a
game, trying to piece together all the clues. And if there’s one thing you need to know about
James, it’s that above everything else, he loves to win.

James’s secret admirer:

Watches Quidditch
 Sounds like an asshole / awkward
Smart?
Nosy friends
Estranged Sibling
A little insecure :(
Lily?
Pandora??
Evan???

He updates the list.

Excellent sense of humour

Friends with Pandora
Likes Muggle literature

Muggle literature. The very thought confirmed it was not a Slytherin behind the letters. A
house of bigoted fools would never branch out into something so different, something that
was actually kind of cool.

Not Slytherin.

He’d been so tired that on Wednesday morning, he completely flunked practice.

For once it had been worth it.

James had to admit he was starting to fall—just a little. He wasn't whipped or anything, but
he’d always had a weakness for clever people: those who weren’t afraid to speak their minds
and didn’t cater to everyone’s expectations, yet still had moments of genuine kindness.

After all that, he'd never been more sure that it was Lily.

⚝
This particular Tuesday, James woke up early. In the darkness of his room, he cast a spell to
illuminate the space. He reached for the piece of parchment he’d been told to write on. There
was little room left on it, but James would get to it when James would get to it.

Hey - James <3

James writes, flushing like a first-year when he doodles a little heart next to his name.
Luckily, nobody was there to see it. He’d be endlessly mocked for days.

Why are you awake?

Star responds, ignoring the heart completely. A little part of James is disappointed but it was
to be expected.

Why are you? - James

I couldn’t sleep, you?

Me too - James

How come?

I was thinking about you - James

No response comes for five minutes.

You can’t say things like that

Why, flustered? - James

Yes.

James burst out laughing at the bluntness but it was only fair; after all, he had to read things
like that every day.

“Prongs?”

Clearly, he should have cast a silencing charm as well.

Peter’s voice rings out as he pushes the curtain open, and in his rush James hides the piece of
parchment he’d been writing on. In his haste, he fails to notice the letter he had been writing
on the Monday prior.

The nosey git snatches it immediately when he sees the surprise in James’s eyes.

He begins to read aloud, and for once, James is grateful that Sirius and Remus always choose
to fuck off on Tuesdays.

“My star, I have always—”

“Give me that!” James snatches it back in a hurry before he can compose himself.

“Did you really sign that ‘Your James?’”

James looks away, embarrassed. He should have known Peter’s eyes would pick out the most
important details anyway.

“Do you have a dirty pen pal, James?” Peter asks, raising an eyebrow and smirking as he
leans closer, curiosity glinting in his eyes.

“Peter.” James tries to sound annoyed, but the slight blush creeping up his neck gives him
away.

“Who’s it to?” Peter presses, a teasing lilt in his voice, clearly enjoying this newfound gossip.

“My admirer,” James mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he fiddles with the parchment in his
hands, his heart racing a little too fast for his liking.

Peter gasps dramatically, leaning back as if struck. “You’re flirting with them?”
“I’m not!” James protests, feeling heat flush his cheeks as he shifts uncomfortably on his bed.

“‘My star?’ ‘Your James?’ Sounds like flirting to me,” Peter says, grinning like the Cheshire
Cat, clearly relishing this revelation.

“Okay, well, maybe a little bit,” James admits, feeling both flustered and exhilarated by the
truth of it.

“You don’t even know them,” Peter says, shaking his head with a teasing smile, clearly
enjoying James’s flustered state.

“I do!” James replies defensively, waving the crumpled parchment in front of Peter’s face
like it’s a badge of honour. He leans closer, his enthusiasm palpable as he continues, “I know
them plenty! Just look at this!” He gestures emphatically to his list of observations, the ink
smudged and scribbled with all the little clues he’s gathered about Star. “And I’m sure that
I’d know them even more if you would just tell me who it is already!”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Peter!”

Peter simply shrugs and again repeats, “I’m good.”

“Whatever,” James mumbles, his cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. He shifts his focus
back to the parchment, the words flowing from his quill with a nervous energy. After all,
Peter had already seen it, and there was no point in pretending he wasn’t a little thrilled by it
all.

That’s cute

Do you go all red and look away or are you the bold type? - James

Is that your attempt at flirting?

Is it working? - James

As if I'd give you the satisfaction of admitting that.

You basically already have by saying that. – James

I hope you know that I’m rolling my eyes right now.

I hope you know that I wish I could see that right now. – James

After a while, the response comes.

Do you want me to be the bold type?

I want you to be yourself. – James

You’d think someone like you wouldn’t be so sweet.

Saying things like that

Do you mind? – James

No. It’s oddly endearing.

Is that so?

No response comes after.

He sighs.

“Hey, Pete?” James mutters, eyes still fixed on the parchment.

“Mhm?” Peter hums distractedly, leaning in to read over James' shoulder.

“How do you feel about scoping out our competition?” James asks, his tone shifting with a
mischievous glint in his eyes.

Peter looks up, one brow raised. “The Slytherins?”

“Yeah. They’re probably on the pitch by now. I mean, it’s early, but you know them—ruthless
and always keen to get a head start,” James says, his lips twitching into a smirk. He glances
at the clock—definitely early enough for Slytherin to be out there already. “Come on, let’s
grab the cloak.”

Peter’s eyes light up at the idea, a familiar grin stretching across his face. “I knew you
couldn’t resist a bit of sneaking around.”

James chuckles, getting to his feet. “It’s not just sneaking around, Pete. It’s strategy. Got to
keep an eye on the enemy, yeah?”

In no time, they grab the Invisibility Cloak, ready to head down to the pitch. Whatever the
Slytherins were up to, they’d have no idea James and Peter were watching.

Under the cover of the Invisibility Cloak, James and Peter make their way down to the pitch.
As they approach, James spots Regulus sitting alone, as usual, scribbling furiously in a
notebook. He’s not playing or practising, just writing—always writing. James finds himself
drawn to Regulus despite Peter’s low grumbles of impatience about wanting to “see the
action.”

"Come on, we should be watching the other players," Peter mutters, tugging at James's
sleeve.

Ignoring him, James shuffles closer to Regulus, curiosity piqued. Peeking over Regulus’s
shoulder, he glances at the pages of the notebook. At first, he sees strategies—probably
Quidditch formations. But then, something catches his eye. In the corner of the page, there’s
a small doodle that looks suspiciously like him.
James’s breath hitches. Why would Regulus be doodling him? He pulls Peter back a few
steps, heart pounding, but his curiosity only deepens.

Regulus pauses, his quill hovering over the page as he hums softly to himself. His eyes
flicker up from the notebook, scanning the empty pitch, almost as if he’s waiting for
someone. The doodle of James, sketched in the corner of his notes, remains unfinished, and
for a moment, he looks distracted—lost in thought.

James steps out of the cloak, leaving Peter hidden beneath it. With a smirk, he saunters over
to Regulus, disturbing the quiet atmosphere. "Hey, weirdo. Lurking as usual?"

Regulus lets out a startled yelp, his quill jerking off the page, leaving a crooked line across
the parchment. “What the actual fuck?” His face is flushed, caught completely off guard. He
glares at James, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

James laughs, thoroughly enjoying the reaction.

“Settle down, Black. It’s just me," James teases, leaning in closer. "Why are you lurking in
your sad little corner? You should be up there." He gestures to the pitch, where Slytherins are
gathering.

Ever since they went flying together, James had tried to be a bit nicer to Regulus. Not that it
had done much good. Regulus kept avoiding him, acting like he didn’t exist. It was almost as
if that day hadn’t mattered at all. Actually, if James had to guess, Regulus had been avoiding
him even more lately. And when he wasn’t avoiding him, he was staring . With those
piercing grey eyes, always judging.

“I’m not lurking,” Regulus snaps, voice tight.

“You are. You’re lurking like you usually are,” James replies, folding his arms with a smug
grin.

Regulus glares, shutting his notebook with a sharp snap. “And you’re making incorrect
assumptions about me, like you usually do,” he mutters darkly. “Fantastic.” He stands, his
expression closed off, clearly done with the conversation.

“You're snappy today. What’s wrong?” James asked, a bit taken aback. It was the first time
he’d really been on the receiving end of Regulus’s harshness. Strange, considering he always
assumed they shared some level of mutual animosity. But now, facing Regulus’s actual
irritation, he realised it had never been as mutual as he thought.

Regulus blinked at him, his expression unreadable. “Do you care?” he asked bluntly, though
not unkindly. If anything, he sounded resigned, like he already knew the answer.

James shrugged, going for honesty. “Not really. But if you want to talk about it, I can be your
shoulder? Or... whatever,” he added, clearly uncomfortable with the sentiment.

Regulus’s lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but didn’t. “Nothing’s wrong.”

James scoffed, not buying it for a second. "Yeah, right."

“And I’m not lurking,” Regulus continued, a bit sharper now. “I’m just writing. I like writing
here.”

James tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. “Writing what, exactly? You don’t seem like
the poetry type.”

Regulus laughed, and it caught James off guard. “Yeah... I’d never do something like that.”

The sound of it was almost too warm for someone like Regulus. James found himself
thinking that it didn’t suit him. It was the kind of laugh that belonged to a kind person,
someone who was open and accepting, not someone who lurked in corners, judging and
ignoring everyone around them.

James blinked at him, feeling unsettled. “You know,” he said slowly, “you don’t laugh
much.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have much to laugh about.”

James tilted his head. “I think you do. You’re just too busy pretending you don’t.”

Regulus didn’t answer that, but the small smile lingering on his lips was enough of a
response.

Regulus shrugged, unfazed. "I’m down here because I don’t need to play," he said simply, as
if that were the most obvious thing in the world. "It doesn’t matter if I practise or not. The
outcome will still be the same. I’ll play just as well, so what’s the point?"

James rolled his eyes. "Of course, you’d think you’re above practice. Like you're some kind
of Quidditch god."

Regulus raised an eyebrow, his expression cool. "You’re one to talk, Potter."

"At least I work for my talent." James crossed his arms, giving him a challenging look.

Regulus didn’t bite, though. Instead, he just smirked, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
"Some of us don’t need to."

That quiet confidence irked James, but there was something strangely compelling about it,
too. He wasn’t sure what annoyed him more—the fact that Regulus was probably right, or the
fact that he found himself oddly admiring the arrogance.

James felt a sudden tug on his arm.

James blinked, caught off guard. Right—he’d been so focused on Regulus that Peter had
slipped from his mind.

"Looks like your friend’s had enough of your hovering," Regulus commented without
glancing up from his notebook.

James blinked twice, surprised. “You can see him?”

“No,” Regulus replied with a small smirk, “but unless you're tugging your own arm,
someone's obviously there.”

Regulus returned his attention to his notes, unfazed, as if Peter’s invisible presence was just
another normal occurrence. James, on the other hand, gave what he thought was a pointed
look toward Peter, though the gesture felt a bit ridiculous, considering Peter was still under
the cloak.

"Well, I'm going to go then," Peter muttered quietly to Regulus, the shuffle of fabric
signalling his departure.

Regulus shrugged, unbothered, as if it didn’t matter to him whether Peter stayed or left. His
detachment was almost amusing.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Peter was already slinking away, clearly
uninterested in sticking around for whatever this was turning into.

James turned to stare at Regulus for a moment, taking in the way the other boy scribbled
away, seemingly lost in his own world. There was something oddly captivating about him,
even in his aloofness. But before he could dwell on it any longer, James shook his head and
took off after Peter.

"Wait up!" he called, jogging a few steps to catch up.

He never did end up watching the Slytherins.

⚝
James found Tuesday’s letter as he settled into his usual seat at the Gryffindor table for
breakfast. He’d passed countless familiar faces on his way to the Great Hall, including a
fleeting glimpse of Lily Evans, who was in a rush as always on a Tuesday.

When he’d finally reached his seat and said his greetings, there, perched on the edge of his
seat, was the familiar star-shaped note, its corners slightly crinkled as if it had been carefully
placed there, waiting just for him. A grin spread across his face as he picked it up, his heart
racing with the thrill of receiving yet another message.

Dear James,

Your friends are strange, but they fit you nicely. When I was a child, I was a little jealous of
the group you’d formed, but now that I have friends of my own, it’s honestly just amusing to
watch your dynamic.

I’m glad you have people in your corner who see how amazing you are. And I’m relieved to
have friends who don’t think I’m completely awful.

My friends think this is strange. They have no right to talk, considering how weird they are.
But they’re right—I never thought I’d be flirting with someone through parchment, especially
when I’d see their face on the same day. I guess I brought that upon myself, huh?
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Yours, Maybe.

⚝
On Wednesday, the note was waiting for him in the locker room as it always was. The
familiar flutter of anticipation filled James as he approached, his heart racing just a bit faster
than usual.

Sirius, as nosy as ever, leaned against a nearby bench, eyes gleaming with curiosity. James
quickly confirmed that it was nothing personal, but that didn’t stop Sirius from hovering.
Together, they unfolded the parchment, the words drawing them in.

As James read the romantic sentiments scrawled across the page, he couldn’t help but feel a
rush of warmth.

As he finished reading, Sirius let out a low whistle, eyes wide. “Okay, to be fair, if I read this,
I think I’d swoon,” he muttered, a smirk playing on his lips. He was already changing out of
his practice gear, tying his hair back into a ponytail that James knew would definitely catch
Remus’s attention later.

“Though…” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, “I doubt they would need to write
much to get you to swoon now, huh, Prongs?”

James chuckled, a light blush creeping up his cheeks, feeling a little lighter amidst the banter.
“Alright, alright. Let’s get to practice before the Slytherins think we’ve gone soft.”

“You’ve already gone soft,” Sirius teased, and James couldn’t help but mutter, “Hypocrite.”

With a shared grin, the two friends headed out of the locker room, the letter still fresh in
James’s mind.

⚝
Regulus had come to watch practice for some reason, and James scowled a little at the sight.
What was he even doing here? Deciding to embrace the moment, he leaned back on his
broom and blew a teasing kiss in Regulus's direction. He hoped it would piss him off.

To his delight, Regulus flushed crimson with anger, his expression shifting from surprise to
irritation in the blink of an eye. A triumphant smile spread across James's face; he had gotten
under Regulus’s skin, just as he’d intended.

With a grin plastered on his face, James returned to the practice drill, the sight of Regulus’s
annoyance fuelling his enthusiasm. As he flew, he couldn’t help but glance back occasionally,
eager to catch another glimpse of that furious flush, knowing that today’s game was far from
over.

They played well at practice, but James was too busy staring at Regulus, distracted by the
lingering flush of anger, to notice a bludger hurtling toward Sirius. By the time he realised it,
it was too late. The bludger hit Sirius square in the side, and he fell off his broom with a
sickening thud.

James's heart lurched. But before anyone could react, Regulus sprang into action. With a
quick flick of his wand, he cast a cushioning spell just in time, slowing Sirius’s fall enough
that he wasn’t seriously injured.

“Bloody hell,” James muttered as he rushed over to Sirius. But before he could even reach
him, Regulus had already made his way to Sirius's side, checking him over.

“I’m fine,” Sirius choked out, his voice hoarse as he tried to sit up. He batted Regulus’s hands
away with a sharp swat, as if the very idea of receiving help from his younger brother
annoyed him to no end. “Don’t need you fussing over me.”

Regulus straightened up, his face tightening. "Could’ve fooled me," he muttered, eyes
narrowing, before stepping back. His voice was laced with frustration, but there was a flicker
of concern that even Sirius’s dismissive attitude couldn’t completely erase.

They waited and soon James watched as Sirius was levitated onto a stretcher by Madam
Pomfrey and floated off toward the hospital wing. His heart sank, guilt gnawing at his chest
as he followed behind, feet dragging on the way to the hospital wing.

"This is my fault," James muttered under his breath, the weight of the situation pressing down
on him. He hadn't even noticed Regulus following silently behind until he heard the soft
shuffle of footsteps at his side.

If he hadn’t been distracted, too busy staring at Regulus instead of paying attention to the
drill, Sirius would’ve seen the Bludger coming. It should’ve been him. Not Sirius.

Madam Pomfrey kept reassuring him as they reached the hospital wing, but her words
couldn’t shake the guilt from his mind. James felt Regulus’s presence but didn’t look at him.
He couldn’t bring himself to face him, not now.

Regulus, for some reason, had followed them all the way to the hospital wing, quiet and
observing, though he hadn't said a word. The silence between them was palpable, thick with
unspoken thoughts. But James didn't have the energy to address it. Not while Sirius was
unconscious on the bed, and certainly not while his mind replayed every stupid thing he'd
done to let this happen.

James glanced up as Regulus shifted in the corner, his presence now impossible to ignore. He
was standing there, watching Sirius with an unreadable expression, his arms crossed.

“Do you need something?” James muttered harshly, his frustration spilling over.

Regulus didn’t flinch. Instead, he whispered softly, "Are you ok?"

James blinked, caught off guard by the question. He scoffed. “Do you care?”

He half-expected Regulus to retort with something cold or dismissive, just like James had
done to him so many times before. But instead, Regulus met his gaze and, to James’s
surprise, quietly said, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

James looked away, the guilt creeping back in. "I should have been paying attention," he
muttered, the words bitter on his tongue.

“Did you hit the Bludger?” Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“Well, no.”

“Were you too busy twirling your hair and flexing for Remus?”

James huffed. “Well, no, but—”

“Then stop worrying about it.” Regulus cut him off, his tone as flat as ever. “It’s not like
worrying will help him now.”

James sat in silence, staring at Sirius’s pale face. He didn’t necessarily agree, but he didn’t
argue either. The quiet between them stretched on, heavy with the weight of the situation.

After a while, James whispered, “Thanks for saving him.”

Regulus shrugged, his gaze flickering to Sirius. “He’s my brother. I’m not evil.”

“I don’t think that you are.”

Regulus’s eyes narrowed, as if testing James’s sincerity. “Don’t you?” he challenged.

James smirked slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “A prick, yes. But
evil? No.”

Regulus gave a small laugh, the same surprisingly soft one James had heard earlier in the
week. “He’ll be fine,” he said, his voice quiet but certain.

Without another word, Regulus turned and walked out, leaving James alone with his
thoughts, but strangely, not feeling quite as weighed down as before.

James sat there, slumped in the uncomfortable hospital wing chair, his eyes glued to Sirius’s
still form. He had been sitting for over an hour, missing classes, but he didn’t care. Guilt
gnawed at him, and with every passing minute, it only deepened. He sulked, shifting
restlessly in his chair, wishing there was something he could do.

After two hours, something unexpected happened. A small, familiar star shape appeared in
front of him, seemingly out of nowhere. It hovered in the air, right in front of his glasses, as if
waiting for him to grasp it.

James blinked, staring at the floating star for a solid five minutes, too stunned to move. He
never got two letters in a single day. But eventually, his fingers reached out, trembling
slightly, and he plucked the star from the air, unfolding the delicate parchment with careful
hands.
The words inside were simple but hit him right in the chest.

Dear James,

Do you know why sunflowers turn towards the sun? They follow it as it moves across the sky.
It’s a little like how I find myself looking for your smile in a crowd. It’s comforting in a way,
and you have no clue how much I’d miss it if it were not there.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Yours, Maybe.

James smiled faintly, reading and re-reading the words. The note soothed him, just like it
always did, though today, it felt even more like a lifeline. The timing was too perfect. He
clutched the letter in his hands, comforted by the thought that someone out there—whoever
they were—was thinking of him.

And right now, that was enough.

Sirius groaned as he finally woke up, his voice hoarse. “How long have I been out for?”

“Four hours, mate,” James whispered, relief flooding through him.

Sirius turned to look at him, eyes sharp despite the grogginess, as if he could sense the guilt
radiating from James. “Prongs, it was my fault, not yours. I was too busy showing off to
Moony to notice. So don’t blame yourself, you idiot.”

James let out a small laugh, though the guilt still clung to him. He had been torturing himself
over this for hours.

“Just like you were too busy watching my brother,” Sirius added, with a pointed look.

“I wasn’t,” James protested half-heartedly.

“You were.”

James sighed, knowing if he kept arguing, they’d end up in an endless cycle. Sirius wasn’t
wrong, but admitting it wouldn’t help either.

“Why were you flirting with Regulus?” Sirius asked after a pause, a frown spreading across
his face.

“I wasn’t,” James said, but his tone lacked conviction.

Sirius mimicked the kiss James had blown at Regulus, dramatically flipping his hair and
batting his eyes. “Oh, James! Oh, James! Keep blowing your kisses at me! They—”

James shoved him lightly, laughing despite himself. “Shut up, Sirius.”
Sirius snickered, clearly enjoying himself. “Yeah, well, it worked. You should’ve seen his
face, mate.” He flipped his hair again, still mimicking Regulus. “Blushing like a lovesick
girl.”

James rolled his eyes, though he couldn't stop laughing. "As if I'd ever be into Regulus. I was
just trying to piss him off."

Sirius grinned wickedly. "Oh, sure, sure. Just trying to piss him off. Nothing to do with the
fact that you keep staring at him every chance you get."

"Shut up, Sirius," James repeated, shoving him again, but there was a flicker of doubt
creeping in. Had he been staring too much?

“Seriously though mate you don’t like Regulus right?” Sirius said, wrinkling his nose. “You
could do better.”

“I don’t.”

“And he doesn’t like you right?”

James paused.

After a while he answers, “Regulus has no reason to like me.”

Sirius studied him for a moment, his usual playful expression replaced by something more
serious. "Good. I mean, not that I think anyone would be good enough for you," he said,
attempting a half-hearted joke. "But... yeah. Regulus? He's just... complicated."

“He has no reason to like me and I have no reason to like him,” James repeated, firmer this
time.

Sirius didn’t seem entirely convinced. “Just be careful, alright? You’re in deep enough with
this secret admirer business. Don’t need you getting tangled up with my brother too.”

James forced a laugh. “Trust me I think I’d rather kill myself.”

Sirius laughed, relief evident in his tone. “Good.”

James grinned, though there was still a lingering tension in the back of his mind.

"Besides," Sirius added, stretching lazily, "I'm sure you have other priorities."

"Right. Priorities." James muttered with a half-smile, though inside, something felt a little
more complicated than that.

⚝
On Thursday, after Charms and Transfiguration with Lily, James dragged his feet to his next
lesson with the Slytherins. The weight of the upcoming class sat heavy on his shoulders, but
he enjoyed walking with Lily, eager to catch up and chat. As they chatted animatedly, he lost
track of time and ended up late to his own lesson.

When he finally pushed open the door to the classroom, the moment he stepped inside, Evan
Rosier let out a low whistle, drawing the attention of his classmates. A ripple of laughter
spread through the room, and James felt his cheeks heat up as he rolled his eyes, trying to
ignore the teasing.

“Nice of you to join us, Potter,” Evan called out, a smug grin plastered across his face.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t you have better things to do than harass me?” James shot back, trying to
sound nonchalant while his heart raced from the embarrassment.

He quickly scanned the room for a place to sit, catching a glimpse of Regulus at the back.
The only empty seat was next to him, a strange occurrence considering Evan usually
occupied that spot, ready to stir up trouble or make snide remarks. James sighed, his stomach
knotting slightly at the idea of sitting next to Regulus.

As he made his way to the desk, he could feel the eyes of his classmates on him, some
whispering and others barely concealing their grins. James tried to shake off the feeling of
being under scrutiny, reminding himself that he was there to learn, not to worry about the
opinions of others.

He slid into the seat, moving Regulus’s bag without asking for permission.

Regulus stared at him, a mix of surprise and annoyance flitting across his features.

James felt himself grow hot under the intensity of Regulus’s gaze. “Take a picture, why don’t
you?” he shot back, attempting to mask his own embarrassment with a lighthearted jab.

Regulus looked away silently, his expression unreadable.

The lesson continued, the professor's voice blending into the background noise as James’s
attention drifted toward Regulus.

He watched as Regulus sat with his chin resting on one hand, the other busy doodling stars
across his skin, ink smudges beginning to form. There was something oddly captivating
about the way Regulus concentrated on his drawings, lost in his own world. When their eyes
met briefly, Regulus flushed crimson, but instead of acknowledging James, he turned back to
his sketching

James scribbled a note on his parchment, glancing over to ensure the professor was still
occupied.

You shouldn’t do that. The ink isn’t good for you. - J

He slid the parchment across the table, watching as it landed just within Regulus’s view.

It'll be fine. It’s not like I do it often enough for it to matter. - R.A.B
The ink will smudge. - J

Regulus starts drawing stars on the paper.

Better than being bored out of my mind - R.A.B *ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Fair enough. ❀˖°⚘

But if you get ink poisoning, that’s on you. - J

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

This time, he added a small doodle of a sunflower, hoping it would make Regulus smile.

He passes it back to Regulus and watches as he reads it with a smile and then he begins to
craft his own response.

“Regulus Black?” the professor said, arching an eyebrow as he leaned against the desk, a hint
of disapproval in his voice. “Care to share your thoughts on today’s topic?”

Regulus’s eyes darted up when the professor called his name, the sudden attention pulling
him away from the parchment and the stars that had begun to fill the page.

James watched Regulus.

He was screwed.

With an almost nonchalant shrug, Regulus glanced at the blackboard, his expression shifting
to focus. “The relationship between the properties of different magical metals and their uses
in charms is crucial. For instance, silver is often more effective for protective charms, while
iron is commonly used for warding off dark creatures.”

His voice was steady and confident, and James couldn’t help but admire how easily he
slipped into the role of the knowledgeable student.

“Very good, Mr. Black,” the professor replied, a hint of surprise evident in his tone. “Just
make sure you’re paying attention the entire class next time.”

Regulus offered a small, almost sarcastic smile, his eyes glancing back to James, who was
trying not to burst out laughing. As soon as the professor turned away, Regulus returned to
his doodling, a touch of colour rising to his cheeks.

⚝
James hurried out of the classroom, his heart racing as he pushed the door open. He tried to
drown out the sound of Evan’s voice calling over to Regulus. “So?”
Lily was waiting for him just down the hall, leaning against the wall with a smile. “There you
are! I thought you’d gotten lost,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Just trying to escape the Slytherins,” James replied with a smirk, falling into step beside her.
He felt the tension from the classroom fade slightly, replaced by the warmth of Lily’s
presence.

Lily had set up a gardening club, and every Thursday, James had started to attend it. As they
arrived at the club’s usual meeting spot—a quaint patch of greenery tucked away behind the
castle—James spotted Pandora near the flower beds, her attention utterly absorbed.

Last week, when he’d been with Lily, they had encountered Pandora. She had stared at them,
wide-eyed, but not in the way he had hoped. No, she was admiring something alright, but it
certainly wasn’t him. Frustrated, he’d crossed her name off his list with a sigh, feeling the
familiar twinge of disappointment.

He should have guessed that she wasn’t interested. Unless Pandora had taken to talking about
herself in the third person. But if that were the case, why hadn’t she just said that she agreed
with him the one time they’d shared a conversation?

James pushed the thought aside as he focused on the garden before them. It was a small patch
behind the castle, vibrant with flowers and herbs. Lily was already kneeling by a row of
marigolds, explaining how they help keep pests away from other plants. James couldn’t help
but admire her enthusiasm; it was infectious.

“Ready to dig in?” Lily asked, looking up at him with a smile.

“Sure, just point me to the weeds,” he replied, chuckling. He grabbed a trowel and joined her,
trying to clear his mind of the drama with Pandora and the Slytherins.

He enjoys his time with Lily.

⚝
The letter arrives when James gets back to the dorm, a familiar star shape that makes his
heart race.

Sirius, ever the tease, raises an eyebrow as James unfolds it. “Falling hard and fast for
someone you might not even know? You must really be smitten.”

James tries to play it cool, but he knows he’s blushing. “I really think it’s Lily,” he insists.

“And if it’s not her?” Sirius presses, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Well…” James hesitates, feeling the heat creep up his neck. “I wouldn’t mind, actually.”

Sirius bursts out laughing. “Even if it was Snivellus?”

James visibly pales, the thought making him feel nauseous. “Nah, mate. I think I would
actually end my life if I caught his attention. And I don’t think I have in that way unless that
freak has a degradation kink.”

“Hey, you never know!” Sirius chortles, clearly enjoying this far too much.

Sirius continues,“I think the only thing worse than Snape would be Regulus.”

James scoffs, but a week ago, he might have agreed. Regulus wasn’t that bad anymore—just
slightly annoying, sometimes even okay. Still, he wouldn’t want it to be him, and luckily, he
didn’t think it would be. Regulus seemed to have the emotional intelligence of a rock.

“Any Slytherin would be a pretty terrible outcome,” Sirius adds.

“I’m not so sure,” James counters. “Dorcas is alright.”

“Dorcas is an exception,” Sirius rolls his eyes. “All Slytherins are pricks. Like that Rosier
guy or Mulciber. Or worse, Crouch.”

“Crouch isn’t a Slytherin.”

“Please, he might as well be. He even wears their tie.”

James nods; Sirius does have a point. “But they won’t be a Slytherin. If it isn’t Lily, I
wouldn’t be surprised if it was a Ravenclaw.”

“Like Crouch?” Sirius shoots back, raising an eyebrow.

James pretends to gag. “You literally just said he didn’t count.”

“Fine, fine. Any other house, then?” Sirius leans forward, his curiosity piqued.

James is stumped honestly. “Honestly, not a clue. But I’ll figure it out.”

Sirius’s eyes light up. “You should lay a trap,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the
world.

And to be fair, it is.

Why hadn't James thought of that sooner?

“You’re a genius, mate!” James exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face.

“I know, mate,” Sirius replied, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

Without another word, James took off, adrenaline pumping through him as he sprinted down
the corridor, ideas racing in his mind.

“Mate? Prongs? James!” Sirius called after him, waving his hands around in exasperation,
but James was already too far gone, his focus locked on his plan.
Chapter End Notes

Sorry for the really late chapter, I really struggled writing some of this and then I lost
motivation.
It was supposed to be 15k but I just couldn't so I cut it down to 7k.

Hope you enjoyed it regardless <3

 Messages in the Moonlight
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

James loved Tuesdays.

They might be the one day they never pulled pranks, but they were no longer dull or
predictable. It might be the day when James was buried in homework, the day he might not
see Lily, and the day when Sirius and Remus would fuck off to go and fuck. But this Tuesday
would be the day when his plan would work.

So, he guessed he didn’t love Tuesdays—just this particular one.

⚝
The day after Sirius suggested he lay a trap—Friday—no letter came, as usual.

James liked Fridays. The lack of a letter always cast a shadow of disappointment over the
day, but big things often happened on Fridays: big games, big pranks, and big promises of
fun. Instead of indulging in any of that, he used the time to draft his plan. Ignoring all
requests for pranks or parties, he focused on crafting the perfect scheme—simple yet
effective. However, it would only be effective on Tuesday, so all he could do was wait.

In the meantime, he’d grown increasingly desperate. Using his Invisibility Cloak, he’d stolen
essays from anyone he could find, comparing handwriting, paragraph formatting, and even
ink colour.

Stealing from the Slytherins was particularly difficult since no classes were shared with them
on Fridays. But that was fine; he doubted it would be a Slytherin. Still, he collected as many
essays as he could from Slytherins—Evan, Dorcas, Wilkes, Avery, Lestrange, and
unfortunately, Snape. He even included Barty, despite him being only an honorary Slytherin.
Regulus, however, was excluded from his search, as usual, because he was absent on Fridays.

All he learned was that Mary had lovely handwriting, while Barty needed to learn how to
hold a quill properly instead of pretending his scratches on the paper were actual words.

James’s secret admirer:

Watches Quidditch
Sounds like an asshole / awkward
Smart?
Nosy friends
Estranged Sibling
A little insecure :(
Lily?
Pandora??
 Evan???
Friends with Pandora
Excellent sense of humour
Likes Muggle literature
Not Slytherin.
Likes Roses
Likes Devil’s Snare
Mean but also sweet when it matters
Attentive
Pretty handwriting.

Every pureblood had pretty handwriting due to the training they received growing up, and
there were plenty of Muggle-borns like Mary who just had lovely penmanship. This was
pointless. He sighed and headed to the Astronomy Tower to think.

He made his way to the Astronomy Tower, freezing immediately when he spotted Regulus. It
was strange—he had never seen Regulus on a Friday before.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating your win against Ravenclaw?” James muttered.

“Parties aren’t for me,” Regulus replied, his tone flat.

James found himself sitting down next to him, not entirely sure why he was drawn to do it.

Regulus’s gaze landed on the stolen essays in James’s hand. “What in Merlin’s name are you
doing?”

“Stealing essays?” James shrugged, trying to play it cool.

Regulus blinked slowly at him, disbelief circling in his eyes. “Potter, you're smart enough to
write your own essays.”

“You think I'm smart?” James stared at him incredulously.

Regulus gave him a look as if he were the one who had just said something weird. “I mean,
yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

James felt his cheeks warm slightly but quickly brushed off Regulus’s comment. “I’m
checking people’s handwriting.”

Regulus paled. “...Why?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” James huffed, but then he whispered, “I have a
secret admirer.”

Regulus began to fidget with his hands before looking away. “Don’t you always get letters
from secret admirers?”

James didn’t ask Regulus why he knew this. “Yeah, but I actually like this one.”
“You do?” Regulus said suddenly, his tone shifting before he gave a very obviously fake
cough. “Right.”

“Yeah.” James shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the slight flutter in his stomach.
“What are you doing up here, anyway?”

“I come here every Friday,” Regulus replied, his gaze still fixed on the ground.

“I know, that’s not what I meant.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Regulus shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping
into his voice.

James raised an eyebrow. “Well, I never see you on Fridays.”

Regulus stayed quiet, a slight frown appearing on his face.

“I like the quiet. It’s just too much sometimes,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a
whisper.

“What about class?” James asked, genuinely curious.

“I skip,” Regulus said simply, a hint of defiance lacing his tone.

James whistled, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Quite the rebel.”

Regulus shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Yes, well, I already know the content
for this year, so what’s the point?”

That made sense. James thought back to how effortlessly Regulus had answered the question
in class yesterday despite not paying attention whatsoever. “Cocky.”

“I think I’ve earned the right to be a little cocky,” Regulus replied, a flicker of pride in his
eyes.

James smiled at that. They sat there in silence for a moment, the tranquillity wrapping around
them like a warm blanket.

Regulus pulled out his notebook and started drawing.

“What are you drawing?” James asked, leaning in a bit to catch a glimpse.

“You,” Regulus whispered hesitantly, his voice shaking slightly.

“Me?” James blinked, taken aback. “Why?”

“I draw everyone,” Regulus replied, a touch of uncertainty in his tone.

“Yeah, but didn’t you already draw me the other day?” James prodded, curiosity piqued.

“You saw that?” Regulus turned bright red, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson.
“Yeah,” James confirmed, a grin creeping onto his face.

Regulus muttered under his breath, “It wasn’t good enough. It didn’t look like you.”

“It did,” James insisted.

“It wasn’t perfect,” Regulus countered, a hint of frustration in his voice as he focused intently
on his drawing.

“Right.” James started to pose for him, striking exaggerated stances. “Well, I’m always happy
to help out, I guess.” He made silly faces, puckering his lips and fluttering his eyelids.

Regulus stared at him, pretending to be disgusted, but then he burst out laughing—not the
pretty, kind laugh James had come to expect, but a loud, unruly laugh that filled the empty
space around them. He snorted mid-laugh, and then abruptly stopped, looking slightly
mortified.

“Never speak of it,” he threatened, his cheeks still flushed.

James raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Regulus nodded, “Good.”

“It was cute.” James said, surprising himself with his own honesty. He hadn’t even realised
he thought it until he said it out loud.

Regulus flushed, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink as he muttered, “I’m not cute.” The
uncertainty in his voice suggested he didn’t know if he should be offended or flattered.

James remained still, watching as Regulus focused intently on his drawing. He posed for him
genuinely, trying different angles and expressions, even throwing in a few exaggerated silly
faces for good measure. When Regulus finally finished, he flipped through his notebook,
revealing a collection of sketches.

“Here’s Barty,” he said, showing a quick sketch of his friend looking smug and self-
important.

“He looks like a prick,” James muttered, unable to suppress a grin.

“Exactly,” Regulus shrugged, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

James laughed, the sound spilling out before he could think to rein it in. But when he caught
sight of Regulus staring at him with a dazed expression, he froze. Shock coursed through him
—Regulus wasn’t supposed to be funny. He was supposed to be annoying, infuriating even.
James crossed his arms and looked away, forcing his mind back.

Regulus flipped to the next page. “And here’s Pandora,” he continued, showing a soft,
delicate drawing of her laughing, her hair flowing like a halo around her head.

“Nice,” James nodded appreciatively.

Regulus shrugged, a shy smile creeping onto his face. He turned the page again, revealing a
rough sketch of Sirius caught mid-laugh. But then he flipped it quickly, as if he hadn’t meant
to show James that.

“You draw Sirius?” James asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s my brother,” Regulus said simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

James frowned, not ready to let it go. He leaned closer, “Don’t you hate him?”

Regulus’s gaze flickered to James, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “He’s my
brother,” he repeated, as if that explained everything.

“Not an answer,” James shot back, crossing his arms defiantly.

Regulus sighed, looking back down at his notebook. “It’s complicated.”

James waited for an explanation.

“I understand why he left,” Regulus whispered, his voice barely audible. “I just don’t
understand why he hates me for staying. We can’t all be like him.”

“Like what?” James asked, curiosity piqued.

“Brave.”

James blinked, taken aback by the sudden honesty. He’d never considered things from
Regulus’s point of view, and guilt tugged at him. He had been quick to place blame on
Regulus, as if he weren’t a victim of the same situation as Sirius. The thought made him look
away, his heart sinking a little.

He wasn’t the nicest person, but he wasn’t a complete asshole either.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, the words slipping out before he could second-guess himself.

Regulus blinked once. Then twice. “...what?”

“I said I’m sorry. I judged you too quickly.”

“Oh.” Regulus’s voice was soft, almost vulnerable. “It’s okay.”

James could see the surprise flicker in Regulus’s eyes, and for a moment, he felt a strange
connection forming between them. “Really,” James insisted, trying to lighten the mood.
“You’re not as terrible as I thought.”

He flipped back through his notebook, showing James previous sketches of him. Surprisingly
accurate. A lot of them were drawn from the pitch. So that’s why he’d been lurking. He’d
been waiting for James.
James felt a strange flutter in his chest as he studied the sketches. They captured him in ways
he hadn’t expected—small details that most people overlooked. How his glasses were slightly
bent on the left side, how one of his teeth was crooked, the black mole on his back, his long
eyelashes that framed his hazel eyes.

It was strange to see himself through someone else's eyes, especially someone like Regulus.
He had always known he was attractive, but Regulus’s drawings made him look beautiful.

“Wow,” James murmured, genuinely impressed.

Regulus’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “I just try to capture what I see,” he said, his
voice barely above a whisper.

“You made me look... wow.” James pauses, searching for the right words. “Incredible.”

“They aren’t good enough,” Regulus replied, holding up the new sketch. “This one is better.”

James leaned closer to examine it. The sketch depicted him mid-laugh, his eyes sparkling
with mischief, and his hair tousled in that effortless way he never quite understood. Regulus
had captured not just his features but the very essence of his spirit—how the corners of his
mouth lifted in joy, the way his laughter seemed to radiate warmth. The shading around his
cheekbones gave him an almost ethereal glow, and for a moment, James couldn’t help but
feel a swell of pride at the way Regulus had seen him.

“You can have it if you want,” Regulus whispered shyly, his gaze darting away.

James blinked, surprised. “Really? You’d give this to me?”

“Yeah.” Regulus shrugged, his voice small. “I mean, it’s yours. It’s just a drawing.”

“Just a drawing?” James shook his head in disbelief. “If I could draw like that nobody would
ever hear the end of it.”

Regulus bit his lip, a small smile tugging at the corners. “You really like it?”

“It’s like the third best thing I’ve ever gotten.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Third?”

“Well, the first would have to be my broom. The second…” James felt his cheeks heat.
“Uhm, the letters.”

“From your admirer?” Regulus asked.

“Yeah, from my admirer,” James admitted, trying to downplay the flutter in his stomach at
the thought of Star. “They’re just… really nice, you know?”

Regulus nodded, his expression shifting slightly. “Nice enough for you to blush like that?”

James shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “What can I say? I like nice things.”
Regulus smirked, a hint of mischief dancing in his grey eyes. “Even if they’re from a mystery
person?”

“Especially if they’re from a mystery person,” James replied, trying to sound confident. “It’s
all very… intriguing.”

“Who do you think it is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then who do you want it to be?” Regulus presses with a frown.

“Lily.” James’s voice was firm, but Regulus’s frown deepened.

“Right.” Regulus stood up suddenly, the mood shifting as if a cloud had passed over them.
“Well, I should go back to my dorm. I said I’d hang out with Ev’.”

James blinked, surprise coursing through him. “Wait, Regulus—”

Regulus was already stepping away, his hands shoved into his pockets as he turned his back
to James. “I don’t want to keep you. Enjoy your—uh, admirer.”

“Uhm? Ok then…?” James said, brow furrowing in confusion. Regulus's sudden withdrawal
left him feeling unsettled.

He watched as Regulus walked away, his shoulders slightly hunched as if he were trying to
make himself smaller. The sharpness of their conversation lingered in the air, and for a
moment, James felt an unexpected pang of regret.

⚝
On Saturday, James found himself pacing in the common room, anxiously waiting for a letter
that usually arrived early in the day. He was convinced that any minute now, he'd find a slip
of parchment tucked in his bag. But as the minutes ticked by, his anticipation turned into
frustration.

Eventually, he gave up on waiting and joined Sirius, Remus, and Peter for a lazy afternoon.
They sprawled across the furniture, joking and gossiping, the air filled with their laughter.
For hours, they chatted about Quidditch, their classes, and the latest antics from their peers.

Finally, the topic shifted to James’s secret admirer.

“Anything on your admirer yet?” Remus asked, popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth,
his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“No,” James sighed, feeling the weight of disappointment. “But I’ve got a plan.”

Sirius immediately sat up, interest piqued. “A plan?”

“You’ll see,” James said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
“That means it’s a stupid plan,” Remus chimed in, rolling his eyes.

James muttered under his breath, “No, it means it’s a simple one.”

Peter, who had been quietly observing, finally looked up from his spot on the floor.

“Last chance to tell me who it is before I kill you after I find out?” James teased, narrowing
his eyes at Peter.

Peter shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re too kind for that.”

James shot him a disbelieving look. “Kind? I’m pretty sure you just enjoy watching me
flounder around.”

“Can you blame him?” Sirius laughed. “It’s entertaining.”

“Right, because my love life is a circus act,” James quipped, shaking his head.

“More like a one-man show,” Remus muttered, “We’re all just waiting for the grand reveal.”

James leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms. “Just wait until I figure this out. I’ll
show you all.”

“Here’s hoping your plan doesn’t involve more stolen essays,” Sirius added with a smirk.

“Trust me, this will be much more straightforward,” James replied, his mind already racing
with ideas. “It’s all about timing.”

“Good luck with that,” Remus said, finishing off the last of the chocolate. “You’re going to
need it.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” James mutters.

“You’ll see,” Remus said with a shrug, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

Earlier, they’d all made plans with the girls for a massive sleepover in the common room, but
first, they decided to raid the kitchens for snacks. Remus and James volunteered for the
mission, excitement buzzing between them.

As they made their way to meet Lily and Marlene, James's attention was suddenly snagged
by a familiar sight. There, leaning casually against the wall, was Barty Crouch Jr., his
signature cocky smirk plastered on his face. But what made James’s heart sink was the way
Regulus stood beside him, hanging on Barty’s every word. The sight twisted something in
James’s gut. How come someone like him got Regulus's attention when James had to wait
years?

He voices this to Remus.

“Why does someone like him get Regulus's attention when I had to wait years?” James
muttered, a mix of jealousy and confusion washing over him.
“Keep staring like that and you might bore a hole in the back of his head,” Remus said
simply.

“I wasn’t staring,” James protested, but his voice lacked conviction.

Remus raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face that clearly said, ‘Whatever you say,
mate.’

James sighed, crossing his arms defensively. “I just… I don’t get it. I mean, why Barty?”

“Maybe he’s just a good friend,” Remus suggested, though the doubt was clear in his tone.

“Yeah right,” James muttered, his eyes narrowing as he returned to his unwanted staring.
Barty caught his gaze and, to James’s horror, reached over to grab Regulus’s hand. Time
seemed to freeze.

Barty and Regulus? Barty and… Regulus?

The thought twisted in James’s gut, souring his mood further. He hated the idea. The very
notion of those two pricks together made him bristle. Even if Regulus had shed his prickly
exterior, the point still stood—Barty was still a total jerk, and they’d be an awful couple.

“Seriously, James, do you have something you want to say?” Remus prompted, nudging him.

James shook his head, mind racing. He thought back to when this could have happened. Last
year? No, that didn’t fit. He kept digging through memories until he landed back in the
library.

Ha! It was impossible. They’d been discussing Regulus’s crush on a Quidditch player, and
Barty had never been spotted on a bloody broom. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Remus, however, was having none of it. He dropped all pretence of subtlety. “Do you have a
crush on Regulus?”

“What? No,” James said instinctively, but as the words left his mouth, the implications sank
in like a stone.

Does he have a crush on Regulus?

He thought about it, feeling a heat rise in his cheeks. It was ridiculous.

James hesitated, turning the idea over in his mind. He remembered the way Regulus had
laughed earlier, how that shy smile seemed to light up the Astronomy Tower, how his
drawings had captured something beautiful about him that James hadn’t fully seen until now.

“I mean, he’s… nice,” James said slowly, as if the admission were foreign to him.

Remus snorted. “Nice? That’s it? You sound like a first-year with a crush.”

“I literally hated him until yesterday,” James supplied, crossing his arms defensively.
“You hated him because he wasn’t giving you attention ,” Remus said, as if that were the
most obvious answer in the world.

“So what?” James shot back, trying to dismiss the implication.

Remus raised an eyebrow at him, a knowing smirk creeping onto his face.

James paused, thoughts racing. “Sirius would fucking kill me.”

Remus shrugged, “I’m sure he’d make it quick for you.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” James replied, rolling his eyes, though his stomach churned at the
thought. What if he did like Regulus? What would that mean for his friendship with Sirius?
The last thing he wanted was to create a rift between them over a boy. Especially since that
boy was his brother.

Remus sighed, sensing the shift in James's mood. “Never mind that.”

They remained silent the rest of the way to meet Lily and Marlene, the air thick with
unspoken thoughts. James’s mind was racing, caught between the revelation of his maybe
feelings and the inevitable consequences that would come with them.

When they finally reached the kitchen, the atmosphere brightened instantly. Lily and Marlene
were waiting for them, grinning mischievously.

“Ready to steal some food?” Marlene wiggled her eyebrows.

Lily swatted her playfully. “Don’t make it sound so bad. It’s not stealing, just… borrowing.”
She gave a toothy grin, her enthusiasm infectious.

James laughed, feeling the tension from earlier fade as they all filed into the kitchen. The
scent of freshly baked goods wafted through the air, and he couldn't help but feel a rush of
excitement at the thought of sneaking snacks for their sleepover.

“Let’s make it a proper heist then!” James declared, his spirits lifting. “Remus, you’re on
lookout while Lily and I load up.”

“Why are you giving me the hardest job?” Remus raised an eyebrow, though a hint of a smile
tugged at his lips.

“Only because we trust you to keep us out of trouble,” Lily chimed in, and the three of them
laughed.

As they rummaged through the kitchen, grabbing cookies, pastries, and anything that looked
remotely edible, James felt a surge of warmth. For the moment, his worries about Regulus
and his complicated feelings slipped away, replaced by the comfort of friendship

⚝
At the sleepover, everyone was asleep, snoring softly or mumbling in their dreams, full of
food and smiles from a day well spent. James sat up on the couch, wide awake and feeling
nauseous. He couldn’t like Regulus. The thought played on a loop in his head, a desperate
mantra: You hate Regulus. But it wasn’t quite true anymore. He had done a lot of reflecting,
and that reflection had led him to the wrong damn conclusion.

What would Sirius think? T he question nagged at him, a dark cloud looming over his
thoughts. He thought back to his admirer, at least those feelings felt undeniable. Yet didn’t
that just complicate things even more? Regulus was not his admirer.

With a heavy sigh, he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearing midnight, and he still
hadn’t received a letter. Had something happened? Had Star changed their mind? The thought
twisted his stomach further, a mix of anxiety and longing.

He tried to shift his focus back to the warmth of the room, the soft sounds of his friends
sleeping, but his mind was too restless. He stared at the clock for ages, willing the hands to
move faster, when he heard a sigh from beside him.

“Prongs? Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or am I going to have to hex it out of you,
mate?” Sirius’s voice cut through the silence.

James turned to see Sirius propped up on one elbow, his dark hair tousled and eyes still heavy
with sleep. “You’re awake?”

“Of course I’m awake.” Sirius shifted slightly, trying to catch his breath. He was sprawled
next to Remus on the floor, looking comfortable. “You don’t think I could sleep through all
that noise you’re making with your brain?”

James let out a shaky laugh, though it didn’t ease the tightness in his chest. “It’s nothing,
really.”

“Nothing doesn’t keep you up at night,” Sirius replied, his tone turning serious. “Come on,
mate. You know you can tell me.”

James hesitated, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him. He opened his mouth to
say something, anything, but all that came out was a sigh. “I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?” Sirius asked, curiosity piqued.

“I think I might have a small, incredibly small, uh, very tiny—”

“Spit it out, James!” Sirius urged, rolling his eyes.

“Crush,” James finally admitted, the word tumbling out like it had a mind of its own.

“Yeah, I know, on your admirer,” Sirius said, smirking.

James rubbed the back of his neck, the familiar nervous habit flaring up. “What if I like
someone else instead?”
Sirius’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. “On Lily, then?”

James shook his head vehemently. “On… Regulus?”

“Not funny, Prongs!” Sirius exclaimed, looking genuinely shocked.

“I’m not joking, unfortunately,” James replied, his heart racing at the confession.

“Regulus… why?” Sirius asked, disbelief lacing his voice.

James let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of his admission settle between them. “It’s
complicated. I mean, we talked the other day, and he’s not like I thought. He’s… nice. He’s
funny. And I don’t know, maybe I was just too quick to judge him before.”

Sirius propped himself up on his elbow, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You’re telling me
you’ve suddenly developed feelings for the guy? After all that time you spent hating him?”

“Fine line and all that, innit?” James shot back, crossing his arms defensively. “I didn’t even
realise it until now. I guess it just—”

“Just what? You’ve been mooning over him behind my back?” Sirius interrupted, a hint of
amusement creeping into his voice.

“It’s not like that! I mean, I wasn’t mooning over him, but it just feels different now,” James
said, frustration bubbling up. “One minute, I’m focused on my admirer, and the next, Regulus
is there, and I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Sirius leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk still lingering on his lips. “And what
about your admirer? You’re just going to toss them aside for Regulus? Regulus is a prat.”

“I don’t know, and yeah, I know he is,” James admitted, running a hand through his hair in
frustration.

After a while, James whispered, “Are you mad at me?”

“Nah. I’m judging you severely, but I could never be mad at you, James. You're my best
friend.”

James let out a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in his chest ease a bit.

“It’s still disgusting, though, so I want no details,” Sirius added, a teasing glint in his eyes.

James lets out a laugh until a thought strikes him.

He furrows his brow, a sudden wave of anxiety washing over him. “What if it is Lily? I don’t
want to hurt her, Sirius. I really value our friendship.” He leans back against the couch,
feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Sirius tilts his head immediately, understanding that he’s talking about his admirer, “You
wanted it to be her just a couple of weeks ago, didn’t you? Now you’re worried about her
feelings?”

“Yeah, it’s just… I’m confused.” James runs a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up.
“Two weeks ago, I was desperate for it to be her. But now, with everything that’s happened
with Regulus… it’s just different.”

Sirius snorts. “That’s an understatement.”

Just when he thought the night couldn’t get any more frustrating, a flash of parchment
appeared before him, glimmering in the dim light of the common room. Speak of the devil.

He picked up the letter, heart racing as he unfolded it. The handwriting was familiar, elegant
and precise, yet the words felt heavy, laden with an emotion that made his stomach twist.

Dear James,

I know you have feelings for someone who is not me. It hurts but I want nothing more than for
you to be happy, which is weird because I’ve always been a selfish person. I understand if
you want me to leave you alone now that you have the information that I’m not who you want
me to be.

James felt a pang of regret at the raw honesty laid bare before him. It was like a punch to the
gut, the realisation that his secret admirer was aware of his feelings for someone else, yet still
cared enough to write this letter.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Not Yours, Likely.

The final words echoed in his mind, leaving a bittersweet taste in his mouth. “Not Yours,
Likely.” It stung more than he expected.

James put his head in his hands, the weight of the letter pressing down on him like a heavy
blanket. He could feel Sirius's eyes on him, studying him, waiting for him to say something
more.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, his voice barely rising above the soft sounds of the
sleeping friends around them.

Sirius leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Get closure. Find out who it is and then make
your decision with that information.”

James's heart sank a little. “And if I make the decision that you don’t like?”

Sirius paused, a frown crossing his face. “And what would that be?”

James thought hard, grappling with the uncertainty swirling in his mind. For once, he
couldn’t quite decipher what Sirius was thinking. Would it be better for him if James picked
Regulus or if he didn’t? He opened his mouth to respond but found no words.
Sirius sighed, clearly sensing his internal struggle. “There’s no guarantee that Regulus likes
you back. Weren’t you the one that said he had no reason to?”

“Yeah,” James replied, furrowing his eyebrows in frustration.

Sirius watched him carefully.

James sighed heavily, feeling the weight of it all settle in. “I just… I don’t want to hurt
anyone.”

“Get some sleep, Prongs,” Sirius said softly, shifting back down onto the floor with a yawn.
“You can’t solve all of this in one night.”

James nodded, though he knew sleep wouldn’t come easily. He stared at the ceiling, thoughts
racing, the letter still clutched tightly in his hand.

⚝
James slogged through Sunday’s pile of assignments for the next week, determined to get
everything done. He didn’t even complain once, a remarkable feat given the weight of his
thoughts. As he wrote in silence, the scratching of his quill was the only sound in the room.
He felt the curious glances of his friends lingering on him, but he chose to ignore them,
burying himself deeper in his work, as if the assignments could distract him from everything
else swirling in his mind.

Sundays were still mediocre.

No letter comes.

James slogged through a Monday as mild as ever. He woke up early, trudged through classes,
and stayed up late, lost in thoughts of Regulus and his admirer. He considered going flying
but quickly dismissed the idea; he didn’t want to run into Regulus, who seemed to be
avoiding him just as much as he was avoiding Regulus.

Mondays were still okay.

No letter comes.

⚝
James loved Tuesdays.

They might be the one day they never pulled pranks, but they were no longer dull or
predictable. It might be the day when James was buried in homework, the day he might not
see Lily, and the day when Sirius and Remus would fuck off to go and fuck. But this Tuesday
would be the day when his plan would work.

So, he guessed he didn’t love Tuesdays—just this particular one…

…Is what he would have thought a week ago. If he had known he had no feelings for
Regulus. And if he hadn’t been dreading the idea of breaking someone’s heart.

Now all he could think was, “I hate Tuesdays.”

James hated Tuesdays.

He wasn’t sure if his plan would work now. After all, his admirer was gone.

James sighed, staring at the familiar parchment filled with past exchanges and ink stains. He
missed the back-and-forth, the thrill of seeing Star's responses appear like magic. With a flick
of his wand, he cast a spell, expanding the parchment to give himself more room to write.

Hey - James

I understand why you might not want to talk to me right now but I miss you.

He stared at the words, hoping for an immediate response. An hour passed, and nothing. With
a frustrated sigh, he continued.

You might be wrong.

I might not have feelings for whoever you think that I have feelings for. I didn’t even really
realise that I had feelings for someone until recently.

Before that I always thought I liked Lily and I guess that I did but not as much as I thought I
did.

She’s a good friend to me but that’s all

I don’t know who else you think that I could like - James

Three more hours passed in silence, his eyes growing heavy. Just as he was about to give up,
a response appeared.

You don’t like Lily?

Not like that - James

That doesn’t mean that you like me though

True but even if that were the case I don’t see why we can’t at least be friends. - James

I don’t know if I can do that.

I like you too much to do that.

James stared at the words, feeling a knot tighten in his chest as the next message appeared.

I hope you tell whoever it is that you like them though, it’ll probably go well for
you.
I wouldn’t be so sure. I have no reason to think he likes me. - James

He?

I don’t really want to talk about it right now - James

Ok

James hesitated before writing again.

Can we just talk? - James

Yeah. We can talk.

They do. They talk for hours, falling into an easy rhythm that almost made James forget all
about the plan he’d carefully crafted.

Almost.

I’m totally going to fail potions - James

How come?

I need moonstone. - James

Everyone can get moonstone.

Yeah but I need to get it today and I have detention and then after that I made plans with
Sirius so I won’t be able to get it in time for Potions. - James

I’m sure you can get it on the way?

I need it from the black lake. - James

Why specifically from the black lake

It’s way better quality. The water enhances the power, especially if it’s been in the moonlight
before collection. - James

Huh, I never knew that.

We learned that this year? - James

I must have not been paying attention.

Seems unlike you. - James

I have to go.

We still have a bit until class? - James

I have plans. I'm sorry.

It’s ok. Will you talk to me again soon? - James

If you want.

Star left the conversation, and James sat back, staring at the parchment filled with their
words. His gaze drifted to the corner of the desk, where a crumpled list of clues sat. He
smoothed it out and let his eyes scan the page until one word stood out among the rest.

Attentive.

That clue had lingered there ever since Star had gifted him his favourite flowers. The thought
had warmed him at the time, but now, it felt different. The word stared back at him, almost
mocking in its simplicity.

James sighed. He felt bad—guilty even—about using Star's attentiveness to trap them into
revealing themselves. But the mystery had gone on too long, and the weight of not knowing
gnawed at him more with each passing day.

The need for answers pressed harder than the guilt.

With a resigned exhale, he set his plan in motion.

⚝
After class, James returned to his dorm, heart pounding as the sky darkened outside. The
cloak lay at the foot of his bed, a reminder of the plan he’d set in motion. He sat on the edge
of his bed, waiting, watching the sun dip lower until the room was awash in the soft, muted
glow of twilight.

Soon.

He had told Star that the best quality moonstone needed to be collected under the light of the
moon, a detail he hoped they'd remember. As the first slivers of moonlight began to peek
through the windows, James stood and grabbed his Invisibility Cloak. The fabric slid over
him like water, rendering him nearly invisible to the world.

His heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and guilt, but the need to know outweighed it
all. He would see them tonight. He would get the closure he needed—find out who Star
really was. And they wouldn’t even know he’d been watching.

With one last glance at the darkened room, James slipped out, invisible and determined.

James moved silently, the soft crunch of his footsteps muffled beneath the Invisibility Cloak
as he made his way to the Black Lake. The air was crisp, the night calm, save for the gentle
rustle of leaves and the occasional distant hoot of an owl. His heart pounded in his chest, a
steady, almost deafening rhythm that matched his growing anticipation.
As he approached the lake, he crouched low behind a tree, the shimmering water reflecting
the pale moonlight. It cast an eerie glow across the landscape, illuminating the ground in
silver light. He didn't have to wait long—less than five minutes, in fact—before he saw
movement in the distance.

A hooded figure emerged from the shadows, their cloak trailing softly behind them. In their
hand, they carried a small basket, the weight of it making them pause every few steps.
James’s heart raced faster, his pulse quickening with every beat.

This is it.

He strained to see more, eyes wide beneath the cover of the cloak, every fibre of him focused
on the figure ahead.

They bent down, carefully collecting moonstone and placing it into the basket they’d brought
along. The soft rustling of the grass and the gentle lap of the lake against the shore filled the
quiet night air. Then, without warning, a gust of wind blew through the clearing, lifting the
hood off the figure’s head.

James blinked.

...Regulus’s face peeked out from beneath the hood. James blinked again, harder this time, as
if hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him. But no—there he was. Regulus Black, kneeling
by the Black Lake, gathering moonstone just as James had said.

Regulus is Star.

The realisation hit him like a slap. He stood frozen beneath his Invisibility Cloak, every part
of him buzzing with shock. He tried to piece it all together, the letters, the clues, the small
gestures of care. Regulus—the quiet, arrogant, reserved Regulus Black—had been his
mysterious admirer all along.

James’s mind reeled, replaying every interaction, every note exchanged. How had he not seen
it? It seemed so obvious now, staring him right in the face.

Regulus. Regulus with the star-themed nam e was star?

No way.

He thinks sarcastically.

The absurdity of the situation nearly made him laugh, but he stifled it, biting down on his lip
to keep quiet. The last thing he wanted was to alert Regulus to his presence.

Has James always been this stupid?

His heart thudded louder in his chest. This was his answer. Now, what would he do with it?

James moved to get closer, the urge to reveal himself overwhelming.

Suddenly, Regulus froze, his body tense as he turned slightly, straining to catch any hint of
movement in the darkness. “Who’s there?” he called out, his voice steady yet edged with
uncertainty.

James held his breath, caught between the desire to step out from the shadows and the
instinct to remain hidden. He could almost feel the weight of Regulus's gaze searching for
him, the air crackling with the tension of the moment.

Summoning his courage, James took off his hood, allowing the cool night air to brush against
his face. In that moment, Regulus dropped the basket, the soft thud echoing in the stillness of
the night.

“Star?” James hesitated, the word slipping from his lips like a confession.

Regulus’s eyes widened in shock, a mix of surprise and something deeper flashing across his
face. “James?” he breathed, the disbelief clear in his voice.

After a moment, Regulus immediately turns around and begins to flee.

“Wait!” James grabs his arm. “Please wait.”

He expects Regulus to struggle, to stomp on his feet and run away anyway. But something
unexpected happens. Regulus begins to cry. Or at least James thinks he is. He can hear the
quiet, broken sounds escaping him, a mix of shock and hurt.

James’s heart sinks. “Regulus…” he murmurs, trying to turn him around, but Regulus shakes
his head fiercely. “Don’t look at me.”

“Why are you crying?” James asks, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with concern.

“You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” James says simply. “Not anymore, and even when I did hate you, it wasn’t
really for any reason that was your fault. I hated you because I thought you hated me. You
never gave me a second thought, and yet you kept staring at me. I thought you were judging
me.”

James can see that that’s clearly not the case now.

“Oh,” Regulus mutters, his voice small. “But you’re still disappointed, right?”

“Why would I be disappointed?”

“Because… I’m me?” Regulus replies, his voice trembling slightly.

“This was the best outcome, actually. I, er, have a crush on you?”

Regulus freezes, eyes widening in disbelief. “You shouldn’t lie about things like that. That’s
not funny.”
“I thought you said you found me funny?” James counters, a nervous smile creeping onto his
face.

Regulus looks away.

“Right, not the time. Sorry, it just sort of came out.”

Regulus remains silent, the tension thickening the air between them.

“I wasn’t joking. Actually, the whole reason I set this up was to get closure because I liked
Star, and I liked Regulus, and Sirius said that I should find out who Star is and then I could
make a decision?”

“You told Sirius,” Regulus states, disbelief lacing his voice.

“I did.”

“Then it doesn’t even matter if you are telling the truth. Sirius would never let you be with
me.”

“I think I already have permission, actually?”

Regulus scoffs, crossing his arms. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s true! He knows I like you. Sure, he judged me a little—”

Regulus raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, he judged me a lot, but he said as long as I don’t give him details, he doesn’t care.”

Regulus nods slowly, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “So… you don’t need the
moonstone?”

James laughs, the tension easing a bit. “No, I don't need the moonstone.” He takes a step
closer, gently taking Regulus’s hand in his own. “I like you too.”

Regulus's expression shifts, and he shakes his head. “I don’t like you. I thought I made that
clear in my letters.”

“You hate me?” James asks, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.

“No,” Regulus replies quickly.

Oh.

“Well, I don’t know if I can say the same yet exactly, but I do know that I like you a lot.”
James smiles, hope flickering in his chest.

James moves in closer, and Regulus's breath hitches. James looks down at Regulus’s lips,
feeling the warmth of Regulus’s breath brush against his own.
“Can I—” James begins, but he doesn’t even get to finish asking if he can kiss him.

Suddenly, Regulus throws his arms around James's neck and kisses him desperately, as if he’s
been waiting years to do this. And to be fair, he has.

But halfway through, Regulus pulls back, a look of confusion in his eyes. “Wait, you were
going to ask to kiss me, right?”

James grins, his heart racing, and instead of answering, he leans in again, capturing Regulus's
lips with his own.The kiss is tentative at first, a question hanging in the air, but it quickly
deepens, each of them melting into the moment.

When they finally break away, breathless, Regulus blinks, a mix of disbelief and joy washing
over his features. “Is this really happening right now?”

James can’t help but tease, “What, have you dreamed of this often?”

Regulus's cheeks flush a deep red as he admits, “Yes.”

James chuckles, a mix of surprise and amusement washing over him. “So, all those times you
stared at me...”

Regulus rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifts into a small smile. “You have no idea
how long I've wanted to do this.”

“Then why’d you wait so long?” James asks, his voice playful.

“Because you hated me,” Regulus replies softly, the weight of his admission hanging in the
air between them.

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are,” Regulus hums, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he
leans in, closing the distance once more.

Their lips meet, and this time, the kiss is charged with understanding, a gentle
acknowledgment of their past and a promise for something better. James melts into it,
savouring the taste of Regulus, the warmth radiating from him, and the soft flutter of hope in
his chest.

This was the best possible outcome. James holds Regulus and he can’t help but think:

‘I love today. Today was a good day and today is Tuesday. The high of kissing Regulus will
last many Tuesdays to come.’

James loved Tuesdays.

And soon he might love Regulus too.

Chapter End Notes

I haven't had school so I finished this a few days earlier than expected. I'm not going to
lie, I kind of hated writing this fic a little but now that it's finally over I don't mind it that
much.
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!