A Thing With Wings and Teeth
Hogwarts past curfew was a different creature entirely.
It breathed quieter.
The torches burned lower, their flames bending in drafts that didn’t exist during the day. The portraits whispered instead of argued. The staircases seemed slower, as though the castle itself had grown tired and heavy and was settling into its bones for the night.
Which, of course, made it perfect.
James Potter crouched behind a suit of armour with all the grace of someone who had never once, in his life, been subtle.
“This,” he whispered, holding up a small, suspiciously ticking object, “is going to be legendary.”
“That,” Remus Lupin murmured from beside him, voice already resigned, “is going to get us expelled.”
Peter Pettigrew hovered behind them, wringing his hands. “Are we sure Filch isn’t—”
“He’s not,” Sirius Black cut in, low and sharp, eyes glittering in the dim light. He was pacing—restless, electric, like a storm trapped in a human body. “I checked. Twice. Stop panicking.”
“I’m not panicking,” Peter whispered, panicking.
James grinned. “You are.”
“Shut up.”
“Both of you, shut up,” Remus hissed, pressing two fingers to his temple. “If you’re going to get us caught, at least do it quietly.”
Sirius snorted under his breath, then dragged a hand through his hair, glancing down the corridor.
“Come on,” he muttered. “We need to set it up before—”
He stopped.
Not dramatically. Not with a gasp or a stumble.
Just—stopped.
James blinked. “What—”
“Oh, you have got to be—”
“Oi—!”
The shout came from further down the corridor.
All four of them flinched.
There, framed in the tall arch of a window alcove, sat Regulus Black.
Except—
Not sat, exactly.
Folded, maybe. Criss-crossed on the windowsill like he’d forgotten how chairs worked, spine curved, shoulders hunched. His tie was loose, shirt half-unbuttoned at the throat, prefect badge slightly crooked like it had been slapped on without care.
And in his hands—
He was rolling something.
Slowly. Carefully. With the intense concentration of someone deeply, deeply invested in the process.
The smell hit a second later.
James blinked. “Is that—”
Remus inhaled, frowned. “That is—”
Peter squeaked. “Oh my God—”
Regulus looked up.
There was a pause.
A long, suspended moment where four Gryffindors stared at a Slytherin prefect.
And the Slytherin prefect stared back.
His eyes were wide.
Not sharp. Not cold. Not the usual cutting, distant grey.
Wide.
Glassy.
Completely, utterly—
“Are you—” James started.
Regulus blinked.
Slowly.
Then—
“Oh.”
That was all the warning they got.
“Don’t report us—!” Peter yelped, bolting forward a step. “Please don’t report us—!”
“Reg, don’t—” James added quickly, hands up. “We’re just—this is—harmless—”
“Absolutely harmless,” Sirius said flatly, not sounding convincing at all.
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “We will literally dismantle it right now—”
“You—” Regulus squeaked.
It was not a dignified sound.
It was high. Sharp. Startled.
Like a mouse being stepped on.
All four of them froze.
Regulus stared at them.
They stared back.
Then—
He vanished.
Not in a dramatic burst of magic.
Not in a swirl of smoke.
Just—
Gone.
For half a second, there was nothing.
And then—
A tiny shape fluttered wildly upward.
A bat.
A tiny, dark little bat with too-big wings and a frantic, erratic flight path shot up toward the rafters, wings flapping in quick, panicked bursts before it tucked itself into the shadowed beams overhead.
Silence.
Utter, stunned silence.
James blinked.
Peter blinked.
Remus very slowly lowered his hand from his face.
“…what,” James said.
“WHAT,” Peter said louder.
Remus opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
“…I—”
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE—”
Sirius dragged both hands down his face.
“Regulus.”
There was a pause.
A tiny, muffled giggle echoed from the rafters.
Sirius’s eye twitched.
“Regulus,” he said again, slower this time, teeth clenched. “Get. Down.”
A small, upside-down face peeked out from the darkness.
Two bright, gleaming eyes.
Tiny ears.
Wings wrapped loosely around a very small, very smug-looking bat.
“Hi,” it said.
The voice was high-pitched. Squeaky. Completely wrong.
Peter made a noise that might have been a scream but got lost halfway out.
James pointed. “It—he—what—”
Remus whispered, “That bat just spoke—”
“I can always speak,” the bat said cheerfully.
Sirius looked like he was about to commit a crime.
“Regulus,” he said, voice dangerously calm, “I told you not to do this.”
The bat giggled.
Actually giggled.
Then flopped sideways, wings half-unfurled, dangling upside down from a beam like it had forgotten gravity was a thing.
“You’re so loud,” Regulus said, voice drifting down in that same tiny, ridiculous tone. “Why are you yelling.”
“I’m not yelling,” Sirius snapped. “You’re the one who turned into a—”
“A baby,” James whispered faintly.
“A bat,” Sirius hissed.
Regulus peeked at him from behind one wing.
Then—
Peeked away.
Peeked back.
Peeked away again.
Sirius went still.
“…are you playing peekaboo.”
“Maybe,” Regulus said.
He did it again.
Wing over face.
Wing down.
Little grin.
Giggle.
Sirius bared his teeth.
Not metaphorically.
His lip curled back, exposing sharp, unmistakable fangs.
“Get down,” he growled.
Regulus froze.
Then—
Flopped.
Completely.
Like someone had cut his strings.
He swung from the beam, limp and delighted, letting out a soft, breathy laugh.
“Oh my God, you did the thing,” he said, thrilled. “You did the face.”
James made a strangled noise. “The—what face—”
Peter was clinging to Remus’s sleeve. “Why does he have fangs—”
Remus, pale, whispered, “I think we’ve moved past the prank—”
Sirius dragged a hand through his hair, pacing under the rafters now.
“Regulus,” he snapped, “come down before I drag you down.”
“You can’t drag me,” Regulus said, voice sing-song. “I’m small.”
“You are not—”
“I’m very small.”
“You are not staying a bat—”
There was a pause.
Then—
Regulus dropped.
Not gracefully.
Not smoothly.
He just let go.
A blur of wings and motion, fluttering wildly before swooping low—too low—and then—
He landed.
Right on the windowsill.
Next to—
The blunt.
He picked it up.
Still a bat.
Tiny claws gripping it awkwardly.
And then—
He took a drag.
James screamed.
Remus made a sound like his soul was leaving his body.
Peter physically backed into the wall.
“HE’S SMOKING—HE’S A BAT AND HE’S SMOKING—”
Regulus exhaled.
A thin stream of smoke curled out from his tiny mouth.
“…nice,” he said.
Sirius looked like he was going to kill someone.
“Regulus.”
A pause.
Then—
The bat shimmered.
Stretched.
Unfolded.
And suddenly—
He was human again.
Still perched on the windowsill, legs loose, shoulders slumped, tie hanging undone. The blunt still in his fingers. His hair slightly messy, cheeks faintly flushed.
And—
His fangs were visible now.
Not hidden.
Not subtle.
Sharp against his grin.
“…hi,” Regulus said.
James stared.
Remus stared.
Peter stared.
Then—
They all screamed.
Loud.
Unrestrained.
Full-volume.
Sirius groaned.
“Can you not—”
“YOU’RE A VAMPIRE—” James shouted.
“YOU TURNED INTO A BAT—” Peter shrieked.
“YOU WERE SMOKING—” Remus added, horrified.
Regulus blinked at them.
Then started laughing.
Not quietly.
Not politely.
He laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.
“You should see your faces,” he said, wheezing slightly, wiping at his eye. “Oh my God—”
Sirius rubbed his temples.
“I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Since when—” James started, gesturing wildly. “Since when are you—”
“A vampire?” Regulus supplied helpfully.
“Yes!”
Regulus shrugged, taking another drag. “Since birth.”
“THAT’S NOT CASUAL—”
“It is to me.”
Peter was still half-pressed into the wall. “You—you bit someone? Have you—have you killed someone—”
“No,” Regulus said, mildly offended. “I’m not an idiot.”
Remus, voice tight, “You just—live like this—normally—”
“Yeah.”
“And you never thought to—”
“Why would I tell you?” Regulus said, genuinely curious.
Sirius let out a long, exhausted sigh.
Then—
He looked at them.
Really looked.
At the panic.
The confusion.
The absolute breakdown happening in real time.
“…we’re born like this,” he said finally, voice quieter now. “It’s not a—curse or anything. Not the way people think.”
The others went still.
Sirius leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.
“Black family thing,” he muttered. “Old magic. Older than most of the pureblood nonsense they like to go on about.”
James swallowed. “So—you—”
“Yes,” Sirius said flatly. “Me too.”
Silence.
Peter made a small, distressed sound.
Remus exhaled slowly, processing.
“…and you just—hide it,” he said.
“Obviously,” Sirius said. “You think we’d get through a single day here if people knew?”
Regulus snorted softly. “We’d get staked before breakfast.”
“Don’t joke about that.”
“I’m not joking.”
Sirius shot him a look.
Regulus grinned back, unbothered.
James dragged a hand through his hair. “Right. Right. Okay. So. Vampires. Fine. Sure. That’s—fine.”
“It’s not fine,” Peter whispered.
“It’s happening,” James snapped.
Remus glanced between them, then back at Sirius.
“…does anyone else know?”
Sirius shook his head.
“No.”
A pause.
Then—
Regulus leaned back against the window, humming softly, eyes half-lidded.
“…well,” he said, voice light, “you do now.”
Sirius sighed.
“Brilliant.”
James let out a slightly hysterical laugh.
Peter slid down the wall.
Remus just stood there, staring at them like he was trying to rearrange reality in his head.
And Regulus—
Regulus took another drag, exhaled slowly, and smiled, fangs catching the low torchlight like something dangerous and amused and entirely, completely unbothered by the fact that the world had just tilted on its axis.
The corridor did not recover.
It simply… shifted.
Like the castle had inhaled too sharply and forgotten how to exhale.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The torchlight flickered. Smoke curled lazily from the end of the blunt in Regulus’s fingers. Somewhere far away, a portrait coughed in its sleep.
Then—
James Potter stepped forward.
Slowly.
Like one might approach a wild animal.
Or, more accurately—
Like one might approach something small and adorable that had just turned into something else entirely and back again.
“…you were tiny,” he said, voice soft with something dangerously close to awe.
Sirius made a noise under his breath. “James—”
“No, wait,” James said, not taking his eyes off Regulus. “No, wait—because that—”
He crouched slightly, leaning in, eyes bright.
“That was the cutest thing I have ever seen.”
Peter choked.
Remus closed his eyes briefly, like he was bracing for impact.
Regulus blinked at him.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
His mouth curved.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
“Oh?” he said, voice lilting, amused.
James nodded, utterly sincere. “You were—your wings were all—” he gestured vaguely, “—and your face—and you were so small—”
Regulus made a soft, pleased sound.
A squeak, almost.
Sirius stiffened.
“James,” he said, sharper now, “don’t—”
But James had already reached out.
Careful.
Gentle.
His fingers brushed through Regulus’s hair.
Regulus froze.
Then—
Melted.
Completely.
His shoulders dropped, tension dissolving like sugar in water. His head tipped—just slightly—into the touch.
Another soft sound slipped out of him. Higher. Warmer.
He leaned.
Just a little.
James blinked.
“Oh,” he said softly.
And then—
He did it again.
Ran his fingers lightly over Regulus’s hair, slower this time, deliberate.
Regulus made a noise.
Not quite human.
A soft, vibrating purr threaded through it, low in his chest despite the way his voice pitched high with it.
He leaned further.
Closer.
Until his forehead nearly brushed James’s wrist.
And then—
He nuzzled.
James went utterly still.
“Merlin—” he whispered, breathless, “he’s—”
“I told you not to—” Sirius snapped, stepping forward.
But Regulus—
Regulus was gone somewhere else entirely.
His eyes had gone half-lidded, unfocused, lashes casting soft shadows over his cheeks. His mouth curved into something small and open and unguarded.
And under James’s hand—
He preened.
Actually preened.
Tilting his head this way and that, pressing into the touch, chasing it when James’s fingers shifted. A soft, pleased hum kept slipping out of him, broken up by little, breathy squeaks whenever James hit a spot just right.
“Hey—hey,” James murmured, completely enchanted now. “There you are—”
Regulus made another soft sound, almost a chirp.
And then—
He pressed closer.
Nose brushing lightly against James’s wrist.
Breathing him in.
Something in his expression flickered.
Softened.
Changed.
His voice dropped, quiet and hazy and… younger.
“…warm,” he murmured.
Sirius went very still.
James didn’t notice.
He laughed softly. “Yeah? You like that?”
Regulus nodded, slow and loose, eyes still half-shut.
“…used to,” he said, words drifting together, “—used to sit like this—”
His hand came up, lightly catching James’s wrist, guiding it—like he already knew where it should be.
“—Mum would—” he swallowed, smiling faintly, “—stroke here—”
James followed instinctively.
Gentler now.
Regulus exhaled softly, melting further.
“—and Sirius—” a small, breathy laugh slipped out of him, “—you used to hold me—”
Sirius flinched.
Regulus didn’t see it.
He pressed his cheek against James’s wrist now, eyes closed completely.
“…and let me—”
His lips brushed skin.
Soft.
Testing.
“…feed,” he finished, barely audible.
Sirius’s head snapped up.
“James—”
Too late.
Regulus’s mouth opened.
A quick, instinctive motion—
A nip.
Sharp.
Clean.
Not violent.
Not even aggressive.
Just—
Familiar.
James yelped. “—ow—!”
Sirius lunged forward. “REGULUS—!”
“—what the hell—” Peter shrieked.
Remus grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t—don’t move—”
Regulus froze.
Immediately.
Eyes snapping open.
For a split second—
He looked confused.
Then—
Sirius’s voice cut through, sharp and furious.
“What did I tell you?” Sirius snapped, grabbing Regulus by the shoulder. “You don’t just—”
“I didn’t—” Regulus started, blinking, dazed. “I thought—”
“You thought wrong—”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Regulus.”
James, very abruptly, stopped reacting.
There was a beat.
Then—
“…oh,” James said.
Sirius paused.
Everyone paused.
James looked down at his wrist.
Then at Regulus.
Then—
He softened.
Completely.
“Oh, you poor thing,” he cooed.
Sirius stared at him. “No—no, don’t—”
James gently pulled his wrist free from Sirius’s grip and held it out again.
“Is that what you wanted?” he said softly. “Yeah?”
Regulus blinked at him.
Slow.
Uncertain.
“…I—”
James smiled.
Warm. Easy. Entirely unbothered.
“Go on, then.”
Sirius made a strangled noise. “James, if you let him—”
“He didn’t hurt me,” James said simply.
Regulus stared at him.
Then—
Very carefully—
He leaned in again.
This time slower.
More cautious.
His teeth grazed skin.
Paused.
James didn’t pull away.
“…okay,” James murmured. “Yeah. That’s alright.”
Regulus exhaled softly.
And then—
He bit again.
Gentler this time.
A small pull.
A soft, steady rhythm.
Sirius dragged both hands down his face. “I’m going to kill you,” he muttered.
James let out a quiet, almost dreamy laugh.
“Merlin, that’s—oddly—”
“Don’t say it,” Sirius snapped.
“—nice,” James finished anyway.
Regulus made a soft, pleased sound against his skin.
A purr.
Low.
Content.
His shoulders dropped again, tension bleeding out of him as he leaned fully into James now, one hand loosely gripping his sleeve.
Peter looked like he might faint.
“Why is he—why are you—why is this happening—”
Remus, somehow managing to stay the calmest, though still visibly rattled, looked to Sirius.
“…explain,” he said.
Sirius exhaled sharply.
“…fine.”
He leaned back against the wall again, glaring at the ceiling like it had personally offended him.
“First of all—” he started, gesturing vaguely toward Regulus, who was currently very occupied, “—that is not how that’s supposed to go.”
Regulus made a soft, offended noise without letting go.
Sirius ignored him.
“Second—no, we don’t go around biting people for fun,” he continued. “That’s—family thing. Or—it’s supposed to be.”
James hummed faintly, distracted.
Sirius pointed at him. “You’re not family.”
“Feeling pretty special right now, actually,” James murmured.
Sirius looked like he wanted to hex him.
Remus cleared his throat. “You said—you were born like this.”
“Yes.”
“And the—blood—”
Sirius grimaced slightly.
“…isn’t what people think,” he said. “We don’t need it. Not really.”
Peter blinked. “Then why is he—”
“Because he’s high,” Sirius said flatly.
Regulus huffed.
“And because,” Sirius added, quieter now, “it’s… instinctive. Sometimes.”
He ran a hand through his hair again.
“…it’s like—mosquitoes, alright?” he said. “The women—if they’re pregnant—they need blood. Helps the baby. That’s it.”
Remus frowned slightly. “And the rest of the time?”
“We don’t need it,” Sirius said. “We can drink it. But we don’t need it to survive.”
James tilted his head slightly. “Then what do you—”
“Tree sap,” Sirius said.
Silence.
Peter blinked. “I’m sorry—”
“Tree sap,” Sirius repeated.
Regulus made a soft, dreamy noise, still pressed against James’s wrist.
“Sweet,” he mumbled.
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you, Regulus.”
Remus stared. “…you’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“You—drink tree sap.”
“Yes.”
James huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s—”
Regulus pulled back slightly, licking his lip, smiling faintly.
“Maple’s best,” he said.
Sirius pointed at him. “See? That.”
Peter stared like his brain had stopped working.
“…you’re joking.”
“I am not joking,” Sirius said. “We grew up on it.”
He glanced at Regulus.
“…he used to bite trees,” he added.
Regulus perked up slightly.
“I did,” he said proudly.
“You did,” Sirius said. “And you snapped one of your baby fangs doing it.”
James lit up. “You had baby fangs—?”
“Yes,” Sirius said.
Regulus frowned faintly. “I cried.”
“You wailed,” Sirius corrected.
“I did not—”
“You did. Mother had to—”
“I was small—”
“You were ridiculous—”
Regulus huffed, then leaned back into James again like none of that had happened.
James, still very much petting him, grinned.
“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured.
Regulus made a soft, pleased noise.
Sirius sighed.
Deep.
Long-suffering.
“…this is a disaster.”
Remus rubbed his face. “You’ve been keeping this secret for years.”
“Yes.”
Peter pointed weakly. “He turned into a bat.”
“Yes.”
James, still smiling faintly, said, “He’s adorable.”
Sirius glared at him.
Regulus purred.
Sirius did not look like someone having a good time.
He looked like someone one inconvenience away from committing several felonies in rapid succession.
He dragged a hand down his face, exhaled hard, and then—very deliberately—straightened, fixing the other three with a look that said if you interrupt me I will actually bite you.
“Right,” he said. “Since apparently this is happening.”
James was still half leaned forward, Regulus loosely draped against him, eyes hazy, mouth curved in a lazy, pleased smile. Peter looked like he was about to pass out. Remus had that thinking too hard about this look that meant he was trying to categorise something that refused to be categorised.
Sirius pointed vaguely between himself and Regulus.
“First—myths are mostly wrong. Shockingly. We don’t burst into flames in sunlight, we don’t sleep in coffins, crosses don’t do anything unless you hit someone with one hard enough, and garlic is just annoying.”
Peter blinked. “…that feels illegal.”
“Everything about this feels illegal,” Sirius snapped.
Remus cut in, quieter, focused. “Ages.”
Sirius nodded once. “We age differently. Slower. Staggered.”
He jerked his chin toward himself. “I’m—by our standards—adult. Properly. Settled phase.”
Then, toward Regulus.
“He’s not.”
Regulus made a soft, sleepy noise in protest, pressing his face further into James’s wrist like he disagreed with the concept entirely.
“He’s about a hundred years younger than me in actual developmental terms,” Sirius went on. “Which is why—” he gestured vaguely upward, “—that.”
“The bat?” James said faintly.
“The baby bat,” Sirius corrected. “That form isn’t… finished. It won’t be for a while.”
Regulus huffed, muffled. “I like it.”
“I know you do,” Sirius muttered.
Peter pointed weakly. “You’re telling me he’s—”
“Yes,” Sirius said. “Don’t think about it too hard, it gets worse.”
Remus frowned slightly. “Abilities?”
Sirius ticked them off with his fingers.
“Shifting, obviously. Enhanced senses. Healing. Fangs—clearly. Strength, speed, all that expected nonsense. And—”
He hesitated.
Then sighed.
“—feeding is… not what people think it is either.”
James, still distracted, murmured, “Feels alright to me—”
“Shut up,” Sirius snapped instantly.
He pushed off the wall, pacing once before continuing.
“Feeding isn’t about survival most of the time. Between vampires—it’s social. Familial. Bonding. That sort of thing.”
Regulus made a soft, pleased hum like he was proving the point.
“And between vampires and non-vampires—” Sirius paused, clearly annoyed he had to say this out loud, “—it’s usually tied to… other instincts.”
Remus tilted his head. “Define ‘other.’”
Sirius made a face.
“…sexual,” he said bluntly. “Or mating-related. Depends. It’s—complicated.”
James blinked.
Then very slowly looked down at Regulus.
“…oh.”
Regulus blinked back at him, equally slow.
“…hi,” he said.
Sirius pointed sharply. “Which is exactly why—”
He cut himself off, eyes narrowing.
“…James.”
James looked up. “Yeah?”
“Stop letting him feed.”
There was a beat.
James glanced down.
Regulus had not stopped.
If anything, he’d settled more comfortably, one hand loosely curled in James’s sleeve, expression soft and distant, completely absorbed.
“…he seems fine,” James said.
“James,” Sirius said, voice flat with warning, “he will forget to stop.”
That landed.
James frowned slightly. “What do you mean—”
“I mean,” Sirius snapped, “he gets carried away. He doesn’t do it on purpose—he just—loses track.”
Regulus made a small, indignant sound against his wrist.
“I don’t—”
“You do,” Sirius cut in. “You always have.”
Remus’s eyes sharpened. “He could seriously hurt someone.”
“Yes,” Sirius said.
Peter squeaked.
James stiffened slightly. “Right—okay—”
“Not maliciously,” Sirius added quickly. “He just—he’s still learning control. He’s not fully grown. His instincts override things sometimes.”
Regulus whined.
Actually whined.
High, soft, annoyed.
James blinked. “Oh—”
“Don’t—” Sirius warned.
But James had already softened again.
“Hey,” he murmured gently, shifting his wrist back just slightly. “C’mon—break time, yeah?”
Regulus made a protesting noise, clinging faintly.
James huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re alright, I promise—”
Very carefully, very gently—
He pulled his wrist away.
Regulus froze.
For a split second, something flickered across his face—confusion, instinct, something sharp—
Then it melted.
He leaned back instead, blinking slowly, lips parted.
“…rude,” he mumbled.
“You’re fine,” James said, still soft.
Regulus huffed again.
Then—
Without thinking—
He leaned forward.
And licked the bite.
Slow.
Deliberate.
James inhaled sharply.
Sirius swore under his breath. “—fuck—”
Regulus pulled back, licking his lip once, satisfied.
“There,” he said.
The marks—
Faded.
Quickly. Smoothly. Like they’d never been there at all.
Remus blinked. “…healed.”
“Saliva,” Sirius said shortly. “It does that.”
James was not listening.
James was staring at Regulus.
Very still.
“…that was—” he started.
Then stopped.
Regulus grinned at him.
All teeth.
All fangs.
“Thanks,” he said lightly.
James smiled back.
Helplessly.
“Oh, you are gone,” Sirius muttered.
“I’m fine,” James said immediately.
“You’re not fine,” Sirius snapped. “You’re—”
He stopped.
Eyes widening slightly.
“…oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Remus frowned. “What.”
Sirius pointed at James. “Vampire bites have—effects.”
James blinked slowly. “Effects.”
“Yes.”
“…define effects.”
Sirius stared at him.
“…aphrodisiac,” he said flatly.
Silence.
Peter made a choking sound.
Remus closed his eyes. “Of course they do.”
James looked between them.
Then at Regulus.
Then back at Sirius.
“…oh,” he said again.
Regulus tilted his head, amused.
“You look funny,” he said.
“I feel funny,” James admitted.
Sirius let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thud.
“I cannot believe I forgot that,” he groaned.
Regulus giggled.
James laughed softly.
And somewhere between chaos and quiet, Sirius Black reconsidered every life choice that had led him to this exact moment.
The shift is immediate.
Subtle at first.
Then—sharp.
James goes very still.
Not frozen—focused.
Something in his expression changes, tilts, settles into something slower, heavier, heat curling low behind his eyes. His mouth pulls into something familiar—his usual confidence—but it’s edged now, dipped in something darker, something hungrier.
“…right,” he murmurs.
Sirius straightens instantly.
“No—”
James doesn’t look at him.
His gaze is on Regulus.
Still close. Still soft. Still open in a way that makes something in Sirius’s chest tighten like a fist.
James reaches up.
Two fingers, gentle but deliberate, sliding under Regulus’s chin, tipping his head up.
Regulus goes with it immediately.
Melts.
A soft sound slips out of him—low, vibrating, content.
A purr.
His lashes flutter, eyes half-lidded again as he leans into the touch without hesitation, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
James watches it happen.
Smirks.
“There you are,” he says quietly.
Sirius’s teeth flash.
“Potter—”
James hums, barely acknowledging him.
“Reckon I’ve got a solution,” he says, voice smooth, almost lazy. “You’ve already started something—might as well see it through, yeah?”
Sirius’s eyes flare red.
“Don’t—”
James tilts his head slightly, thumb brushing along Regulus’s jaw.
Regulus leans into it, nuzzling the contact instinctively, another soft purr slipping from his chest as he presses closer, completely uninterested in anything else happening around them.
James’s smirk deepens.
“I’ll just have him help me with it,” he says.
There’s a beat.
Then—
“I can shag him.”
The air snaps.
Sirius moves before the words have even settled.
A low, vicious growl tears out of him, sharp enough to echo against the stone. His fangs are fully bared now, eyes burning red in the low light, something feral and furious and protective flaring up in a way that makes even Peter stumble back.
“Try it,” Sirius snarls, voice dropping into something dangerous, “and I will rip your throat out.”
James finally looks at him.
Unimpressed.
Flat.
Annoyed.
Regulus, meanwhile—
Is not listening.
At all.
He’s pressing closer into James’s hand, nuzzling again, soft and insistent, chasing the touch like it’s the only thing that matters.
Sirius’s chest heaves once.
“Absolutely not,” he says, voice sharp. “You’re not allowed—”
“Not allowed?” James cuts in, one brow lifting.
“Yes,” Sirius snaps. “He’s—”
He jerks a hand toward Regulus.
“—a child by our standards.”
James’s eyes narrow.
“Excuse me?”
“He’s sixty-eight,” Sirius bites out. “In vampire years, that’s barely anything. He’s not fully grown, he doesn’t have full control, and you are not—”
James exhales sharply through his nose, irritation flashing now.
“Right,” he says, voice going dry. “So we’re doing that, are we?”
Sirius glares. “Yes, we are.”
James lets out a short, humourless laugh.
“Because if we’re going by your logic,” he says, tone cutting now, “then he’s still older than me.”
Sirius falters for half a second.
James doesn’t miss it.
“In human years?” he continues, ticking it off on his fingers. “He’s, what—one year younger than me?”
Sirius’s jaw tightens.
“And if he’s old enough,” James adds, glancing briefly at the still-smoking blunt, “to be doing that, then I think he can make his own decisions, yeah?”
Sirius’s eyes flash again. “That’s not the same—”
“Looks the same to me.”
The words land hard.
Flat.
Final.
James doesn’t wait for a response.
His attention slides back to Regulus like Sirius isn’t even there.
The shift is immediate again—sharp edges softening, voice dropping back into something warm, coaxing.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
Regulus hums.
Leans closer.
James’s fingers tighten slightly at his jaw, guiding his face up again.
“You wanna?” he asks, voice low, almost teasing. “Yeah?”
Regulus blinks up at him.
Slow.
Soft.
Then—
He purrs.
A clear, content, yes threaded through it.
His head tilts into James’s hand, nuzzling again, completely unguarded.
James’s grin turns sharp.
Smug.
“Thought so,” he murmurs.
His thumb brushes along Regulus’s cheek, almost affectionate.
“Good boy.”
Sirius’s growl cuts through the corridor again—low, furious, barely restrained.
And for the first time—
It doesn’t stop anything at all.