Sirius: Men you used to go to war and now you're sleeping with a man .
Regulus: We both actually did go to war .
Regulus: We're both sleeping with men .
Sirius: I forgot about that one.
summary: When Regulus’ injury worsens, you take drastic measures to find your estranged brother, Sirius. The plan lands you in Godric’s royal guard, trained by none other than the crowned heir, James Potter. Chaos, secrets, and emotional entanglement ensue.
tags: fem!reader, black!reader. angst, hurt/comfort. slowburn. black siblings angst. modern royal au. violence expected from these themes. cross-dressing. reader has short hair given her disguise. background wolfstar and bartylus.
a/n: uhhh new series? sort of inspired by she’s the man meets mulan meets the princess diaries if you squint. lots of angst and lots of fluff as well. hopefully you like it and as always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. enjoy!! xx
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“D’you know what the kitchen’s serving for supper?”
You press your back against the wall, heart up your throat and brick digging cruelly in between your shoulder blades you’re sure it’s close to piercing the skin. A stressed sigh puffs out of you as the guards pass by without noticing your presence. They continue their track through the open hallway with eyes wide inspecting the grounds for any possible danger. Or infiltrators.
Your lips twist sideways at the irony. They continue without noticing your presence, and you pat yourself at the fact that you somehow managed to get into the palace without being discovered by anyone.
As soon as the clinking of their boots fades off deep into the castle, you let yourself breathe, unpeeling your back off the wall now that the grounds are seemingly empty. The fog is a helpful indication of the lack of movement, curling through the gardens and embracing the castle with the early morning hours. According to your insider, guard training it’s not supposed to begin until past six.
You check your phone for the time, only to be welcomed with a few checkup texts from Regulus.
RB: barty said the barn entrance is always open.
RB: are you ok?
RB: should i scrape money to bail you out of jail?
YNB: everything ok. stop spamming. will let you know if the money is needed.
You sigh, pocketing the phone inside your jacket–a ratty thing you stole from Barty’s closet to sell your disguise better. It hardly warms you up against the late October weather, but it was oversized enough to cover certain… things that could ruin your plan.
A shudder overtakes you, and you jump to raise the strap of your satchel higher over your shoulder, wide eyes looking from left to right before emerging from your hideaway.
“What do you think you’re doing?” you freeze, not daring to make a move. “Who are you?”
“Um,” you swallow thickly, knuckles white where you’re holding your satchel like a lifeline. “I was just, uh, looking for the training grounds? Think you can point me in the right direction?”
The man grabs your shoulder harshly, turning you to face him. You’re surprised to find a boy instead, extremely tall, cruel scars adorning his features and hardening his appearance. An unpleasant churning feeling overcomes you, feeling his inquisitory eyes studying you much like you do to him.
“You’re here for guard training?”
“Yes?” he raises an eyebrow in question. You almost swear amusement passes over his face. “I mean, yes. Guard training–where is it?”
The boy gives you another up and down. “You’re early.” he frowns, finally dropping his arm down to his side. The expression in his face softens into something more subtle, still slightly inquisitive. “I’m Remus, one of the court scholars.”
When he stretches his hand out, you’re surprised to find more scars adorning his arm, peeking out from the sleeve of his posh jumper. Remus considers you as you take a step forward.
“Uh,” you wet your lips nervously. “I’m, um, Evan?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Are you?” his lips quirk more bemusedly. “You don’t seem sure.”
“No, I am. It’s just, it’s still early, s’all.”
“That’s true,” he laughs, returning to his posh posture, hands folded behind his back. A strange expression passes over his face again. “You remind me of…” you look away nervously, but Remus only waves the thought away. “Doesn’t matter.”
“I’ve got a very common face.”
“You also look very young to be training for a guard. How old are you?”
You frown, pushing your satchel up in your back. “Old enough.”
Remus’ lips twist, a condescending comment surely forming in his brain, his scholar brain, mind you–For fuck’s sake.
His amber eyes scan you over like he can’t decide between turning you over or simply walking away, making you someone else’s problem. Surely the task of interrogating mysterious androgynous boys can be handled by someone else.
You just hope you don’t end up at the dungeons. If they still exist. Or if the Potters are anything like your own family.
“Well,” he says, tilting his chin to the opposite direction. “Follow me. The grounds are a bit far, but by the time you arrive you’ll be right on time.”
Your eyebrows raise in surprise, watching as he picks up his pace through the garden. He walks in such composure you wonder if he was born into this world or a terribly good student who happened to survive a tragedy–your eyes cut quickly at the cruel scar across the bridge of his nose. Remus lifts an eyebrow at you as you walk by his side, and you force your gaze away with a flush to your neck.
“Tell me… Evan, was it?” he asks, tone dripping with amusement. You nod mutely. “Tell me Evan, what brought on the decision to join Godric’s guard?”
“Uh,” you blink, genuinely surprised at his curiosity. “The money?”
Remus laughs. You chance a quick glance up at him. “That’s oddly straightforward,” he observes. “Seems only fair I return the favor. Only way to make a good living off this job is being extremely good at it.”
“I can be good.”
He pauses, turning slightly sideways to consider you. “Yes, I think you can,” you blink in surprise, but Remus only spreads a hand over to signal you to continue walking. “Training isn’t easy, though.”
“I’ll manage.”
“You’re awfully confident, too, aren’t you?”
You shrug. “Only thing I have going for me, I reckon.”
A somber expression passes over his face. “Your parents?”
“What about them?”
“What do they think about this?” he asks, tone taking a more genuine tone with each question. “Are they okay with you doing this?”
“I can hardly care,” you shrug again. “It’s not like they can do something to stop me.”
Remus hums. “Are you perchance doing this to prove a point? To them?” he asks, looking down at you with a certain empathy you detest. You roll your eyes. “Forgive me if I’m being too straightforward, it’s just… you look awfully young.”
“I already told you, I’m old enough,” you gripe. “Why do you care anyway? Aren’t you just a scholar? What is it to you if I die in action?”
“Die in action?” Remus chuckles, igniting fire into your veins. “Evan, with your complexion just be glad they allow you into training.”
You scowl. “Fuck off.”
“Hey–”
“Can you point me in the right direction? I’m sure I can manage the rest of the walk.”
Remus frowns, shaking his head resolutely. Every trace of curiosity vanishes off his posture as he scans you over with a hesitation in his eyes. You hate it, his obvious doubts in you. He doesn’t even know you, why would he be in the right to dictate if you can or not be a guard worthy of entering the royal guard?
“I can’t let a strange boy wander around the grounds alone–God knows you’re not planning something dangerous.” he states firmly. “Come, we’re nearly close. I must present you to the royal guard in command first, then we’ll see from there.”
“Dangerous?” you ask in disbelief. “How can I do something dangerous? You just said I’m scrawny.”
“I didn’t call you scrawny.”
“Well, it damn well sounded like it,” you murmur. “Are you in the habit of insulting people for their complexion?”
Remus has the gall to laugh, though it sounds bitter as he turns to you. “Do I look like someone who can do that?”
You scowl, lips parting to speak. But you’re then interrupted by a chirp voice calling for your interrogator.
“Moony?” a boy calls loudly, panting as he seemingly runs to meet him by the grounds. You raise your eyebrows in evident shock. “What’re you doing here?”
You blink, realizing that you’re face to face with the future king of Godric, James Potter. Who, despite what you’ve seen on the telly and magazines, looks strangely young to be in such a position and coexisting with the poshest people in the country.
This prince wears crooked glasses, dirty Adidas trainers and is panting like manantial water isn’t part of his daily menu, and, additionally wearing an Oasis tee…? clinging to his sweaty torso.
You quickly look away with a blush creeping up your neck. When he stops right in front of you, it takes you approximately five milliseconds to remember you’re supposed to bow to this boy, as sweaty and disheveled as he looks, like the royal he is.
James raises an eyebrow as you bend nearly over your waist. He sends Remus a questioning look, who returns it with a shrug.
“Oh,” James laughs. “That’s not necessary, mate.”
You stand straight, fixing the strap of your snatched over your shoulder. “You, um, your royal highness, hi–I’m here to try for the royal guard.”
“The royal guard?” he asks, sharing yet another look with Remus. “You look a little–”
“This is Evan.” Remus says quickly, saving his friend from facing the same fate as him for misjudging you. “Evan, uh… Forgive me, I forgot to ask for your surname.”
You swallow thickly, mind completely blank and eyes desperately wandering for help. James’ lips tug up in a bemused smile, and you cut a glance around, grasping for anything to help come up with a surname. When you give his tee a second glance, a memory pops into your head.
“Evan Rosier.” you smile, stretching your hand to him. Quicker than you’re sure it’s the norm, but you’re too proud with your idea to care.
“Well, this is Evan… Rosier,” Remus speaks, voice taking a bemused tone as his eyes flicker from you to James. “And he’s entirely sure he’ll make a good guard.”
You scoff. “Still clinging to that condescension, aren’t you?”
Remus throws a wide eyed look at James, who nods with a bemused smile on his face. You can’t say you enjoy their silent conversation.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place, Evan.” James beams, crossing his arms over his chest. You try to not let your eyes wander to his flexed biceps. God, what’s the matter with you? “I’ll be in charge of training for the next sessions.”
“You?” Remus nearly shrieks, quickly clearing his throat when your lips betray you into a smile. “James, surely you’re not–”
The prince raises his arms. “Father’s others, not mine–Something about giving Pads a break.”
“As if he needs it.” Remus mutters in faux petulance. “Where is he anyway? I’m sure he’ll just love this.”
You’re not sure if you appreciate them talking about you like you’re not present, but you suppose it’s a habit of their people. You’d know, you spent part of your childhood being in the end zone of said habit because of your family. You just hope this Pads fella isn’t as meddling as these two.
James tsks. “You know Sirius,” you tense. “he’s in one of his moods again, better leave him alone for a bit.”
The air is knocked out of your lungs at the mention of your brother, the possibility of him being closer than you’d ever hope.
Remus shakes his head. “Do you know where he is?”
“His chambers, I reckon,” the prince shrugs, sending you a look like you’re in on the joke. As if you could ever understand their royal duties, let alone their jokes. Remus sighs. “I’ve tried everything to get him to come with me, but he’s being a twat–you’ll be luckier, I’m sure.”
The tall boy blushes a crimson red, and James nudges you again. You wonder if he’s too exhausted to remember you’ve just met, of course you won’t understand his meaning. But you do recognize the lovestruck look that passes over Remus’ face.
“I’ll… I’ll go check on him,” he says, taking a tentative step away. Then, he halts, as if just remembering your presence. “He needs to meet Evan anyway.”
Your blood runs cold at his statement, but James speaks first. “No need, I’ll handle it.”
“James.”
“You heard the king. I’m on guard duty today,” he waves him off, moving to give him a quick shove towards the castle. You scramble away as a reflex. “Go.”
Remus, poor Remus, looks like he’s genuinely torn between fulfilling his duties as a professional scholar that should definitely get you away from the heir, and yet, he walks away. You’re not sure if you appreciate the look he sends you over his shoulder, as if still assessing your intentions.
Well, that was awfully easy. How has James managed to stay alive all these years if his people, his servants, simply leave him alone with unwanted boys claiming to be trying for the royal guard?
“That boy needs a break, but you didn’t hear it from me.” James says lightly, and you blink to remember yourself and your act. “Well, it’s still a bit early. Why don’t we wait for the rest to arrive?”
“You’re letting me stay?”
James chuckles. “I’m letting you try out,” he clarifies. “Depending on how you do, I’ll decide if you stay or not–tell me, Evan, have you fought someone before?”
“Um,” you wet your lips, passing nimble fingers through your trimmed hair. It’s shorter than what you bargained for, but it’s done the job perfectly by the looks of it. “Sort of? Here and there.”
“Here and there? How does that work?”
You finally put down your satchel. “I’ve fought people, it’s just… I’m usually better at dodging.”
A startled laugh puffs out of him, and you find yourself relaxing a bit as he drops his arms to his sides. You pass a hand over your disheveled mullet, acutely aware of your hair and your appearance.
“Dodging…” James repeats, scanning you over more as an assessment than judgingly. Still, you feel yourself raising your shoulders, trying to make yourself small. “I suppose it could work, defense is a good tactic, too.”
“You think so?”
When you look up to meet his gaze, you're startled to find him studying you curiously, much like Remus did moments before. A similar strange expression overtakes his features as he cocks his head to the side with a frown.
“I mean,” he clears his throat, shaking his head when you raise an eyebrow at him. “You still need to throw a punch here and there but–I’m sorry, it’s just… you look awfully similar to someone I know.”
You swallow, coughing when it gets stuck in your throat. James’ eyebrows lift in surprise at your outburst.
“‘M sorry,” you manage, hitting your sternum to control your breathing. “I get that a lot, I’ve got a common face.”
Just like Remus, the prince doesn’t seem completely satisfied with your statement, but he lets it go with a wave of his hand. You wonder if it’s a habit created by his royal status, the need to wave people and thoughts off when he deems them unimportant. You bite the inner skin of your cheek.
“Alright, then. Show me what you know.”
“Now?”
“Of course,” he nods, standing in defensive position. You blink at him, surely he doesn’t think you’ll have enough strength to pounce at him? “A quick assessment before the rest arrive.”
“I don’t want to fight you.”
He drops his fists. “Why not?”
“You’re the prince!” you nearly shriek, and you quickly have to clear your throat to level your tone. James laughs. “I don’t want to go to jail.”
He’s smiling so wide his eyes have disappeared behind his glasses. “You won’t go to jail, Evan.”
“If that Sirius fella you say sees me properly whacking you, I’m sure he’ll accommodate a cell with my name. I think I’ll pass.” you shake your head, holding your elbows as you pace around the garden. “I’m too young to go to jail.”
“So you are young,” James points a finger at you, tone all knowing like he just received the last piece of a complicated puzzle. “I knew it.”
You groan. “What is it with your lot and age? I already told that Femur boy that I’m old enough.”
“Femur?” James lets out a bark of laughter, and you frown, reeling back as he doubles down. “Oh, you mean Remus?”
“That’s what I said.”
He beams. “God, you’re my new best mate.”
You glance around the gardens, hoping, praying for anyone, any recruit or guard to show up for training. Surely the kingdom doesn’t depend only on Sirius to maintain security in place? Where is everyone? Wasn’t training supposed to start at 7?
You look down at your phone again, signaling that it’s half past seven and there are no signs of training yet. There’s also a row of messages from your brother and his obnoxious boyfriend.
RB: u think you’ll get home before dinner?
RB: barty’s asking btw
BCJ: r u coming for dinner? i won a tesco voucher
BCJ: we’re eating good tnite!!!!!!
You pass a hand over your hair, still not used to its shortness when you try to run your fingers to what used to be long locks. When you lock your phone and look up at James, you're startled to find him studying you, again. He’s quick to school his expression when he bends over to begin stretching.
You point around. “Isn’t training supposed to start at seven?” he looks up, and you try with every fiber of your being to not let your eyes wander to his arms again. “Where’s everyone?”
“Running a bit late, I reckon. If word spread that Sirius took days off I’m sure they’ll be taking their sweet time,” he explains breezily, stretching an arm behind his head. You look away quickly. “He’s a bit of a maniac when it comes to punctuality.”
You hum.
James considers you for a second. “What?”
“Uh? Oh, nothing. Just a bit bored I suppose,” you say quickly, scrambling to save face. “I thought I’d get some training done by now.”
“Hey, I offered and you refused.”
“I’m not fighting you,” you take your satchel again. James frowns as you fix it behind your back. “Well, I’ll get going.”
“What? Why? Weren’t you supposed to try out?”
“Well, yeah… I would if any try out actually happened,” you shrug, waving him off much like he’s done to you countless times. The prince raises his eyebrows so high they’re just above his glasses. “I’ll return tomorrow, if that’s okay–I need to get home.”
James scrambles to run in front of you, and you feel your heart jumping up to your throat when he plants himself in your way. He’s tall enough to intercept any escape plan you can think of.
“I need to get home,” you repeat, trying desperately to keep your panic away from your tone.
Rationally, you know James would never do anything to you, or at least you think so. But the fear still overtakes you.
“You won’t stay for training?”
“I’ve got to get home,” you snap, a bit harsher than necessary but his closeness has you feeling pins and needles in your hands. “I’ll return tomorrow to try out–unlike you, I desperately need the money.”
James blinks, leaning away like your words struck him. You sidestep him before he can regain his footing.
“Of course,” he blinks, standing straight with hands behind his back, a similar stance to Remus. “I’ll make sure to let the guards know you’re coming tomorrow.”
You nod. “Thank you,” you fix your satchel, taking a tentative step away. But, before you can forget yourself, you bow your head very quickly as a protocol farewell. “Pleasure meeting you.”
The prince raises a hand before you can bow fully. “It was nice meeting you as well, Evan,” he says, tone amused and at odds with his frown. “Don’t think I won’t let you off the hook tomorrow, though.”
You chance a quick smile at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Just because you’re scrawny doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you,” he promises with a wink. You turn to walk away to hide your flushed face. “Bring less loose clothes, too! That jacket is a life hazard!”
You hug the jacket around you as you walk away, dread creeping up your body at his comment and the fact that any less loose clothing would surely give away your secret. Your phone dings again.
BCJ: quick
BCJ: chicken tikka masala or butter chicken?
You sigh. Whatever happens tomorrow, at least you’ve got a feast ready for you, after months of making ends meet to save enough money to get your plan going. The plan to get Sirius back to you.
…
“Ah! You’re alive, thank Goodness. I was already thinking we’d have to rent your room.”
“How did it go?”
You push the door closed behind you, immediately relieved at the warmth embracing you after hours of walking outside in the cold weather. Regulus stands from his chair when he sees you, and you move to untangle your scarf, to shrug the jacket off. It is a little too loose the more you think about it.
“And?” Barty asks, leaning back on his chair to see you over Regulus’ frame. “How did it go?”
“It was alright,” you cut a quick glance at your brother. “Didn’t get to see him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I’m not wondering a damn thing.” Regulus frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. You share a quick look with Barty, who shakes his head faintly behind his boyfriend.
“Alright then,” you shrug, shuffling across the small flat to sit by the table. “What did you settle on?”
Barty perks up, twisting sideways to take the plates from the kitchenette. He presents you with two containers full of warm food, fogged inside the plastic wrap.
“I nicked another voucher, so we have options.”
“We do?”
Regulus sighs, walking back to join you at the table. You try to not stare too much at his limp as he takes his seat with a grimace across from you.
“Don’t encourage him,” he says as he accepts the plate Barty puts together for him, a messy mixture of different kinds of seasoned chicken. “He’ll start doing it more often–Least we need is him losing the job.”
Barty waves him off with his plastic fork. “And I’ve told you, it was alright. Nicked is more a figure of speech, a lady won it and she didn’t want it. So she gave it to me.”
“That’s nice,” you mumble, dabbing at your own chicken butter absentmindedly. “What else did you do today?”
“Work,” Barty says between a mouthful. Regulus grimaces as he shoves a napkin over his face. “This one spent the day pacing the flat and staring out the distance waiting for your arrival.”
“Fuck off.”
You laugh. “Ow, were you worried about me, Reggie?”
“I was, in fact,” he nods, shuffling his weight over the chair. You catch the way he bites his lip, an obvious tell that his leg is giving him trouble again. “We don’t know those people, they could’ve sent you directly to the gallows.”
“The gallows?” Barty laughs. “Reg, please do join us in the twentieth century.”
You chuckle, but as you and your brother share a look, a somber memory passes between you. Regulus shakes his head as he takes his fork as well. A silence settles between you, occasionally interrupted by the crackling of plastic containers and bags around the table.
“I, um,” you pass a napkin over your lips. Both boys pause to look up at you. “I’m going back tomorrow.”
“What?”
“I have to return, I promised,” you say slowly, eyes flickering between Barty and Regulus as they stare at you with different types of surprise.
“Promised who?” Regulus presses, once again crossing his arms over his chest.
You look away, hunching over your plate to finish your food. Regulus and Barty share a look at your guilty silence, then a boot taps your shoe under the table.
“Promised who, little gremlin?” Barty frowns, leaning over the table to level you with a look.
“Um,” you swallow thickly. “James?”
“James?”
“Who the fuck is James?” Barty asks simultaneously. “And why are you going around promising him things?”
“James Potter, uh, the prince.”
A beat.
“…The prince.”
“Hm,” you nod. “Barty, can I have more of the chicken masala?”
“‘Course,” he says readily, taking your plate to serve another portion. You wince at the way Regulus stares you down during the whole interaction. “Here.”
To your surprise, Regulus raises a hand to stop Barty from handing you your plate. You shrink into yourself at your twin brother’s intense gaze.
“What were you thinking?”
You sigh. “Reg, it’s not… it’s not as bad as it sounds, all I need is an in.”
“You’ve already put yourself at risk today, what else do you plan to do? Is Sirius really worth all this danger?”
“Not worth all this danger?” you ask, immediately forgetting the steaming plate in front of you. “Do you hear yourself?”
“I am, which is why I know you’re being a daft idiot, what makes you think he’ll grant you the time of the day?”
“Because he’s my brother, he–he should.”
“Well, this brother you claim left. He turned his back on you, on me… for what? To run off to a well-off family and be in every bloody magazine of the country!”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “We need him, Regulus. Whether you like it or not.”
“We don’t, we’ve managed perfectly well all these years.” Regulus scoffs, and you feel an inexplicable ire coursing through you at his indifference. “What is he supposed to do?”
“Regulus, we need the money, you can’t go on being a prideful twat letting your leg get worse,” you raise to your feet, pointing at his leg propped over Barty’s lap under the table. “Barty is just barely managing a moment of peace with every shift he’s taken–”
“You’re welcome to find a job, too,” Regulus says offhandedly, and you pause. Barty does too, his hand stilling over his shin.
“Reg.” Barry steps in firmly.
“What? It’s true.”
“You’re an ungrateful little shit, you know that?” you frown, trembling hands reaching for the plastic wrapper. You cover your own plate with oddly calm movements. “You think I wanted to quit? Someone had to take care of you.”
“I was alright, it was just a sprain.”
You close the fridge a tad harsher than necessary, your brother flinches as a reflex. “You almost lost your leg, Regulus,” he shakes his head, and you find yourself losing the thin patience you’re just barely able to maintain. “You might not care about yourself but I’m not losing you, too.”
He parts his lips to speak, but Barty raises a hand mid air. “Alright, that’s enough,” he speaks up, tone firm and at odds with his usual laidback personality. “Why don’t we all take a moment, hm?”
“I was done,” you mutter, crossing your arms. Regulus sighs deeply at your scowl. “Whatever, I’m not changing my mind.”
Barty sighs. “y/n.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
At the sight of their joined hands over the table, you only roll your eyes, pivoting to your room. With the awfully tight fit of your shoebox flat, it’s the only place where you’re granted a few moments of solitary peace. Doesn’t exactly save you from eavesdropping, though. Low whispers echo faintly as the crackling of plastic bags continue, probably Barty putting everything away and saving the food for later, or tomorrow.
You drop to your bed, springs grinding under your weight as you lay back, hands at your short hair as your fingers thread through the remains of a past life. A pang overtakes you, painful and tight in your chest as you try to not think about your current predicament, try to not succumb to the desperation. However, the more you pass a hand through your hair, the looming presence of your plan becomes more prominent in your head.
“For fuck’s sake,” you whisper to yourself, mostly to drown out both the spiraling thoughts and the whispers of your brother outside the room.
A knock comes at the door, and you have half the mind to ignore it, knowing that in this tight room, you can never lie about not hearing when the sound is nearly by your head. Barty pops his head in after a second knock without your answer.
“Hi.”
“I’m not changing my mind.”
Barty only raises his hands in surrender. “I come in peace, just wanted to ask if you want me to save the chicken masala for lunch tomorrow.”
“Oh, um, yeah, that’s fine,” you nod, pushing yourself up to sit by the edge of your bed. Barty studies you quickly. “Not sure if I’m gonna return for lunch, though.”
“You can have it for dinner then, I’m sure they’ll give you food at the palace,” he says, tone taking a playful tone at the end of his sentence. Your lips quirk. “Got everything for tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” you nod, scooting to the side to let him sit. Barty frowns when you shake your head then. “No, actually, I… I was hoping you’d help me with something.”
“I’m not cutting your hair again,” he frowns. “I barely survived the first time, oh, your luscious locks… all gone. Won’t do it, sorry.”
You roll your eyes fondly, nudging him. “No, I, um, I was told I can’t wear loose clothing for training. I’ll need you to help me hide… uh, you know.”
He laughs. “You want me to help you bind your tits?”
“Prick,” you flush, hitting him a tad harder this time. His face breaks into a grin. “Please?”
Barty leans his elbows over his knees, considering you with a fond look on his face. With his disheveled hair and bags under his eyes, he looks older than one would think he is, the weight of multiple part time jobs and overnight shifts on his back. His uniform is a tad crinkled, and you make a mental note to wake up earlier to iron it before slipping out to go to the palace.
He clicks his tongue. “You’re really hard saying not to, you know that?”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s an okay,” he clarifies. “Only because you can get hurt if you do it yourself.”
You press your lips together, considering your words as you rest your chin on his shoulder. Barty raises an eyebrow at you with faux suspicion. “I promise I’ll find a job as soon as this is done.”
He sighs deeply, accepting your hand when you search for it. “Don’t worry about that, he… he said that out of stress. We all know you do enough already.”
“I feel like I’ve made our lives a bit more difficult because of this, though.”
“Hm… I won’t lie to you, it’s looking a little rough,” he allows quietly, making a point of squeezing your hand. “But I get where you're coming from, and I sort of agree with you.”
“You do?”
“Don’t tell Regulus, though,” you laugh conspiratorially. “But, he’s been having trouble again.”
“Yeah, I noticed his limp is back.”
A comfortable silence settles between you.
“Be honest with me,” he whispers, hand squeezing yours and seeking reassurance. “You really believe he’ll be able to help us? Sirius?”
You purse your lips together, considering your words. “I don’t know,” you say honestly. “There’s only one way to know.”
…
“You say you just found him wandering around?”
“He seemed a bit lost.” Remus adds, eyes downcast as he plays with his boyfriend’s fingers. “I thought he was just a cook, or assistant.”
“Who the fuck let him in?” Sirius frowns, his eyebrows pinched in the middle and tone taking an edge. Like it always does when his security systems are ignored. “And you left him alone with James?”
“While I appreciate the sentiment," James says as he paces around the room, throwing a foam stress ball up and down. “Had you seen him you probably wouldn’t be throwing a tantrum right now.”
“His little backpack looked like it weighed a ton.”
“More than him surely,” James quips.
Sirius jumps to his feet, disentangling himself from Remus’ embrace. “He could’ve been hiding a bomb in there!” the boy paces around the room now, hand at his hip while the other pinches at the bridge of his nose. “I can’t take a bloody day off without you putting yourself in danger.”
“Pads, it’s alright. He’s harmless.”
Remus reaches for Sirius again, who swats his hands away. “And you,” he says, scowling at his boyfriend in a way that has lost any effect. “I can’t believe you turned your back on them for a second.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Remus sighs, pushing himself to sit up in the bed. “This boy is hardly worth all these dramatics, Sirius. He looks barely 20.”
The raven haired boy sighs deeply, dropping his arms as he moves to sit by the edge of the bed. It creaks when Remus moves to place a hand over his shoulder, palm stroking his back up and down in a comforting manner.
Sirius moves his face off his hideaway in his hands. “Even if he’s ten or twelve or the bloody prince of Denmark, you can’t simply allow commoners to come and go into the palace when it strikes their fancy.”
“I know,” Remus allows, pressing a quick kiss over his shoulder. “But, strangely… this boy Evan… he has this certain fire, this spark that reminds me of–”
James sends him a warning look.
“Reminds you of what?”
“Of you,” Remus says quietly, pointedly ignoring James' dramatics as he throws his head back in frustration. “When you first came into the palace.”
A thick silence settles into the spacious room, occasionally interrupted by the faint sound of the first droplets of water hitting the balcony window. Sirius presses his face against his hands again, trying and failing to suppress the memory of that fateful day years ago. The sacrifices he had to make, the life he left behind.
“I think.. he doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” Remus continues, passing his own scarred hand through his hair. “From what I gathered from the bits of information I managed to wrangle out of him, parents are out of the picture, he’s probably a street kid trying to reign some control over his life.”
James hums knowingly, plopping over an elegant wingback. “That does sound like Sirius, and we let him come and go as it struck his fancy, if I remember correctly.”
“Alright, alright,” Sirius rolls his eyes. “No need to subject me to emotional manipulation. I’ll have a look tomorrow.”
“I thought you were taking a day off?”
Sirius rolls his eyes. “I took a day off and you let a strange person into the gardens,” his lips tug up into a smirk when Remus snorts lightheartedly. “I’ll be there tomorrow. Someone must reign you in.”
James lets out an overexaggerated groan. “I don’t need to be reigned in to train some guards, Pads.”
“Yeah, tell that to your mother.” Remus points, smirking at the memory of the last time James was allowed loose outside the grounds. “Be glad she’s not here, she’d properly go mental if she hears about today.”
“Not you too, Remus!”
“I happen to enjoy my weekly tea time with your mother, so spare me of hiding your shenanigans from her.”
The bespectacled boy clicks his tongue in faux annoyance, making a show of throwing the stress ball at Remus. It lands exactly over Sirius’ elegant headboard.
“Hopefully Evan is less of a swot, I can’t cope with you two.”
Sirius snorts. “How much of a swot can he be? I’m sure he barely even finished grade school.”
“Don’t be an arse,” Remus nudges him harshly, but the boy only rolls his eyes as he throws himself over the bed. “He was actually quite… quick-witted.”
“Quick witted blokes are usually the most dangerous, God knows what he’s hiding behind that little boy facade.”
James and Remus share a look, but none of them dare make a comment. They just hope his first meeting with Evan isn’t as disastrous as they’re already expecting it to be.
…
You pass a hand over your disheveled bangs, running your fingers through the hairs that have stuck up in every direction. The reflection in front of you is a complete stranger staring back at you, a boy that you hope is the key to get you into the guard, one step closer to seeing Sirius again.
It’s funny, really, how different yet identical you look to Regulus. It had been a fear of yours, the moment you decided to go on with your little plan to disguise yourself as a boy to get into the palace, that you’d probably end up looking like a carbon copy of your twin brother. The result was something more complex. Evan stares back at you as you fix the hood of your jacket over your head, tucking the loose hairs behind your ear.
Secretly, you thank every existing deity for Barty’s eye and his ideas to make your hair a completely different color and hairstyle to what your brother would ever wear. You dab your forefinger over the skin just shy of your eye, fixing the makeup failing to hide the bags under your eyelids.
“You didn’t strike me as a vain bloke.”
You jump, turning quickly to face a smirking James behind you. He leans sideways over an archway, looking slightly more put together than yesterday but still carrying that boyish, posh elegance to his essence.
“Aren’t royal guards supposed to be good looking?”
James chuckles. “You’re still hellbent on being a guard?”
You drop your arms, turning to face him with a scowl. “Not sure if I appreciate your lot doubting me–I’m here, aren’t I?”
He studies you for a moment, pushing himself off the pillar with his hands shoved into his training shorts. You try to not shrink under his gaze, after all… he is a prince. In all his tomfoolery and boyish charm, but still a prince.
“I’ve got news for you,” he says after a beat. You swallow nervously. “Can’t tell you if they’re good or bad, you’ll have to decide that yourself.”
“I’m allowed to join?”
“You’re an insistent kid, huh?” he shakes his head with a laugh. “I talked to Sirius, he’s allowing you to try out… there’s a catch, though.”
Your shoulders slump in resignation. “What is it?”
“He’s personally coming down to see your try out,” James says slowly, eyes scanning you up and down to gauge your reaction. You try to not tense as visibly as your chest tightens. “He had a few doubts.”
“Well, of course he did,” you fix your hold on your satchel. “Still can’t believe your lot let me in like nothing, are you in the habit of turning a blind eye to unwanted visitors?”
James lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s… what Sirius said.”
“Smart bloke, that Serious.”
He laughs. “Sirius, you mean,” he corrects kindly, spreading an arm to guide you through the grounds. You follow him nervously. “You have the worst hearing ever, must work on that if you want to join the guard.”
“Not my fault your people have strange names.”
“Right, my people,” his tone takes a playful tone, skipping a bit by your side. You cut a sideways glance at him. “What was your surname again? Rosier?”
“Don’t think I won’t whack you just ‘cause you’re a prince,” you mutter, fighting to keep the corner of your lips from tugging up. James seems to read this as he beams down at you. “Is… is this Sirius bloke scary?”
“Sirius?” you nod. James passes his index finger over his lips, looking down with a pensive look. “He’s, well, a bit distrustful… Though I suppose that’s part of the job.”
“What’s his job? Interrogate boys?”
James chuckles. “No, he’s the royal guard captain. Head of security.” your eyebrows shot up to their own accord. He smiles indulgently, leaning a bit in a way that has your heart up your throat. “He’s my brother.”
You let out a bitter snort before you can stop yourself, shaking your head as you continue walking by his side. James’ pace falters, turning sideways to look down at you with a questioning look behind his glasses.
“What?”
“Your brother?” you ask, trying and failing to mask your annoyance. “Really?”
“Well, brother is a figure of speech,” he passes his finger over his lips again. A nervous tick you notice quickly. “He’s like a brother to me.”
He stops by an open space, adorned with tons of equipment worthy of a powerful royal guard training camp, and you must force your expression to morph into shock to mask your indifference and annoyance at the fact that Sirius managed to fulfill his role as a brother–only that Regulus and you were never worthy of being on the receiving end of it. James clears his throat by your side, and you snap to meet his gaze, hoping the ire has slipped off your expression.
“Well?” he asks, hazel eyes flickering between you and the training camp. “What do you think?”
“Bit much,” you admit, scanning each rack of weapons. “Are all these necessary? You can feed an entire orphanage if you sell some, I know someone that can give you an acceptable price.”
James laughs. “You think so?” he asks indulgently, you know none of that will ever be necessary. His estate is a clear indicator, but you still try to stretch the jab a bit. “I’ll take it into consideration.”
“What d’you need all these for when they’re not in use, anyway?” you muse, taking a tentative step forward. James spreads a hand to allow you into the camp.
“Well, some of them are centuries old.”
“Yeah?” you step to a rack, curious eyes scanning the sword in front of you. You turn to James with a question at the tip of your tongue. “Can I…?”
He smiles, taking a step forward. “Of course.”
“Absolutely not.” A voice looms over almost simultaneously, making you jump. “James, what the fuck are you doing?”
Your skin pales visibly, chest snapping loose inside you as you pivot very, very slowly. A pair of grey eyes glaring at you is the first thing you notice, and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest.
After years of imagining it, concocting possible scenarios where this exact encounter would finally happen, you find yourself face to face with your brother once again. Sirius walks up to you, eyes wide and glaring directly at you as he crosses the rest of the way to the training mat, his raven hair tucked behind his ears much like you’d do to your own hair when it was long enough to do so.
You blink, once, twice, your fingers twitching by your sides and hidden by the long sleeves of your jacket. Any words that you could say stuck in your throat, just like the jumble of feelings that are fighting to escape your body.
“Pads, hi,” James says, stepping over to you with a lopsided smile. “You’re early.”
Sirius finally looks away from you, moving his glare to James. “And I’m bloody glad I was, why are you letting him get so close to the weapons?” he asks, voice raising a few decibels. “You’ve got the survival instincts of a fucking raccoon, do you know that?”
“I was just showing him around,” the prince argues, a feeble attempt, really. Sirius presses his fingers to his eyes.
You blink again as you stare at the side of his face, scanning every inch of him. The way he grew onto his nose, straight and long bridge like yours and Regulus, his jaw is a tad sharper than you remember, and he still has the whisker dimple he shares with your twin brother. There are a few scars adorning his forearms, equally adorned with a few tattoos you distinctly remember from some magazine clippings. The person in front of you is completely different to the boy you last saw years ago.
Sirius snaps his head at you, lifting an eyebrow. “What?” he takes a step forward, but you’re frozen in place. Unable to look away from him. “Why’s he doing that?” he asks James.
“Uh,” James frowns, passing a hand in front of your eyes. You blink again. “You alright, mate?”
“Hm?” your hum comes out a bit squeaky, and you clear your throat. “Oh, um, yeah. Sorry.”
“Alright then…” he says slowly, eyes flickering between you and Sirius. “This is Evan, he’s… trying for the royal guard.”
“I know,” Sirius nods, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes scan you over, inquisitory and lacking any real recognition. “How old are you?”
“Um,” you cut a quick glance at James, who nods encouragingly at you. When you move your gaze back to Sirius, his eyes remain hard, glaring at you. “I recently turned 20.”
He leans back, allowing his eyes to relax just a smidge. “You look like you could be younger–do you know anyone in the royal guard? What’s your name?”
“Evan,” you frown, searching in his eyes for any recognition. He raises an eyebrow instead. “Evan Rosier… I, uh, I don’t know anyone here, ‘m sorry.”
Sirius hums, stepping back to walk around you, circling you much like a wolf to its prey. “You’re a tad scrawny, do you work out?” You chance another glance at James, he shrugs.
“Not really, no.”
“Hm.” Sirius says again, and you find yourself itching closer to the end of your threshold of patience. “That’s a shame, you certainly have the height.”
“I can work out.”
“Fighting skills? Any?” he asks, completely ignoring your comments.
“I’m… alright, I think.”
“You think?”
“That’s what I’m here for, aren’t I? To try out?” Sirius’ eyebrows shoot up, he looks at James with bewilderment, as if no one has ever dared to talk back to him. “Sirius, right?” he nods, mutely, tongue frozen in shock. “Well, Sirius, I was told I’d be here to try out and that you’d see, not interrogate. So if we can begin, it would be great.”
He blinks, as if remembering himself and his authority. You cross your arms over your chest as he stops in front of you. “And who do you think you are to talk back to me, Rosier?”
“And who do you think you are to undermine my abilities with a few questions? Must you always judge people based on their looks?”
James laughs, then rolls his eyes when Sirius redirects his glare at him. Too used to his head of security to really mind.
“Well, then,” he nods, scanning you over with a smirk threatening to take over his face. “Show me what you know.”
“Now? Oi–”
You dodge, throwing yourself sideways when he throws a punch in your direction. Another comes, and you nearly stumble backwards as you scramble to dodge his attempts to hit you, you raise your fists in a futile effort to defend yourself from his vicious attacks.
For a second you’re greatly thankful for Barty and all those early morning sparring classes growing up, his insistence of teaching you and Regulus to fend for yourselves coming in handy with every dodge you do to his punches. You chance a blow at his ribs, which only hits air as he throws one at your face in return. His attempt is more successful as you fall back with the force of it.
“Oi, that’s enough!” James calls out, running to stand between you. Sirius lowers his arms, panting as he blinks. “What the fuck, Sirius? He’s just a boy.”
“Since when do we let boys into the royal guard, James?” he asks, passing a hand over his disheveled long hair. You pass your own hand over your bleeding mouth. “I was willing to humor this bloody joke but that’s enough, alright? He’s not staying, he can barely hold himself in a fight. How is he supposed to protect you?”
“He needs training, Sirius–you just can’t expect him to beat you when no one in the actual guard has.” he reasons, tone taking an edge completely at odds with his image of a charming prince. “You can be a bloody prick sometimes, you know that?”
To your surprise, he turns to you, stretching a hand out to help you up. You cut a glance at Sirius as you take his help, letting him hoist you up with little to no effort.
“Alright?”
“Yeah,” you nod, pointedly glaring at Sirius when you finish cleaning your face.
“See that? How am I supposed to be taken seriously when this street rat keeps poking at me?” Sirius seethes, pointing at you and talking over you like you’re just a ghost standing there. “And he’s half your size, it’s more likely you end up defending him than him to you.”
James sighs, and you move to take your satchel, throwing it over your shoulder.
“Whatever,” you mutter, wincing at the throbbing pain in your chin. “Bunch of judgmental arsholes, I hardly think this useless monarchy deserves all this nonsensical defense.”
“What did you just say?” Sirius snaps, turning to you again, but James is quick, pulling him back before it could escalate again. “This useless monarchy has done–”
“Oh, don’t be a bootlicker.” you roll your eyes, hoisting your satchel up in your shoulder. “Anyway, I came, tried out and got beat up, can I leave now?”
“Please do.”
“Sirius, for fuck’s sake–” James says, but runs to stop you from taking another step. He turns to Sirius with furrowed eyebrows. “He’s got nowhere to go.”
You frown. “Now, I never said that–even street rats like me have somewhere to sleep,” you say, cutting a pointed glare at Sirius. He rolls his eyes in evident disdain. “But I do need the money.”
“Money?” he repeats, leveling you with a look. “Couldn’t you find a better way to make it? Have you tried stealing?”
“Tried it, not my cup of tea,” you shake your head, smirking when his own judgemental smile fades off his face.
“Alright,” James cuts in. “I didn’t want to pull this card but… Sirius, he’s staying, and that’s an order.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, snapping to look at James, and in doing so, you miss the way Sirius’ eyes harden into a furious glare. He inhales deeply, and you take a tentative step back in case he does end up like your family–taking out their anger with the defenseless victim nearby.
“…What?”
“You heard me.” James says, tone taking more conviction despite the evident fury radiating off Sirius. “He’s staying, and he’ll train under your surveillance.”
“You’ve lost the plot, what the fuck, James?” he breathes out, eyes widening with every word. “You’re letting this nobody stay here? Why?”
“You know better than anyone that we all deserve second chances, maybe this is his.” he clasps a hand over your shoulder, and you puff out a gasp at his weighty hold. He turns to you, his face softening when he meets your gaze. “If you want to, of course.”
You blink. “Um, sure.” James beams, patting your shoulder again before stepping away. “When do I start?”
He turns to Sirius–who’s too busy dividing his raging attention between you two–and cocks his head to your side, prompting him to speak. You press your lips in a line.
“Tomorrow, seven sharp.” he mumbles, looking away. He’s so angry the skin of his neck has turned red. “The dormitories are just down that path, breakfast is at 5:30.”
“Dormitories?”
Sirius sighs like this conversation is already too much for his patience. “Does your majesty wish for a personal dorm?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to stay here.. I figured I’d…”
“Go back home? Fat chance. Can’t risk you spilling royal secrets with your people.”
“But–”
“You’re staying, literally and figuratively.” His lips tug up in a smirk, like a cat toying with a mouse. “And that’s an order.”
Gender - Jegulus, Wolfstar - @jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic - word count: 996
Regulus stood outside of Sirius’ front door, hand raised poised to knock, but he couldn’t do it. He was chewing nervously on his bottom lip and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears.
Just as he was about to give up and run away, the door flew open and he was suddenly staring up at his older sibling.
“I got bored waiting to see if you would actually knock.” Sirius told him in answer to his silent question, pointing to the camera on the side of the door Regulus hadn’t seen. “You gonna come in now the door is open?”
Regulus swallowed and nodded, stepping over the threshold and into Sirius’ flat.
Remus was sitting on the sofa, he had his feet up on the coffee table and there was a book resting in his lap.
“That’s a good one.” Regulus pointed at the book. “I finished it last week.”
Why was his voice so quite? Fuck.
“Reg, you alright?” Sirius asked, as they placed a gentle hand on Regulus’ shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s…I just…” Regulus sighed heavily and collapsed down on to the sofa next to Remus.
“What’s happened?” Remus put his book down. “Is it James? Did he do something?” Remus asked firmly, fury flashed across his eyes and Regulus was quick to shut it down.
“No, no, he didn’t do anything. He’s really great.”
“Then what’s going on?” Sirius asked as they sat down and placed a fresh cup of chamomile tea down in front of Regulus.
“I…I…” Regulus took a deep breath and then sipped at his tea, collecting his thoughts. “I need some help.”
Normally, Sirius would make some kind of joke at that statement. There must be something on Regulus’ face that was telling Sirius how serious this situation was. Remus stood up with his book and excused himself. Leaving the Black siblings to it.
“You can ask me anything, you know.” Sirius rubbed their hand up Regulus’ back and Regulus breathed in deeply, relaxing into the touch.
“How did you know?” Sirius stayed silent, giving Regulus the space to get his words out. “That you’re not always a boy, I mean.”
“Ah,” Regulus heard the smile in Sirius’ voice. “What do you want to know, Reggie?”
“How did you figure it out?”
“Well, I didn’t really have the words at the time, but I knew that there was something different. So, I started small. I tried eye liner and nail varnish, only when mum and dad weren’t around, obviously. Then, one day, I was out shopping with Lily and Marlene and they caught me staring at the skirts they were trying on. So, they dragged me into the changing room with them and encouraged me to try one on.” Sirius was smiling fondly at the memory and Regulus found himself smiling back. “The rest is history.”
“Do you…can I…” Regulus chewed on his lip again and Sirius pulled it loose with his thumb.
“Stop chewing on your lip, you’ll make it bleed.” His sibling gently chastised him. “Come on.” Sirius took his hand and stood up.
They went to Sirius’ bedroom, where Remus was sitting up on the bed and reading.
“Switch.” Sirius said, as they let go of Regulus’ hand and went over to the chest of drawers.
Remus didn’t ask any follow up questions, just smiled and left the room.
“Right, here.” Sirius held out a black skirt to him and Regulus’ eyes went wide.
“What? Now?”
“No time like the present. Remember, gender is just a construct. If you don’t like it, then you don’t need to try anything else on.”
Over the next hour and a half, Sirius helped Regulus try on multiple outfits from their wardrobe, some more feminine than others, some more neutral. Sirius said it was because some days they were more they than he or she.
“Reggie? How’s it looking?” Sirius called to him through the bathroom door. “Is that the one?”
Regulus’ hands were shaking as he looked at his reflection. The black dress fit his curves and accentuated his hips and made his legs and arms look amazing. Add in the subtle makeup and half up-do that Sirius had done for him and Regulus couldn’t believe how comfortable he felt.
Not just comfortable…
“Hot.” Sirius said from next to him. “Soz, but when you didn’t answer I thought you might be freaking out, so I thought I should just barge in.”
“It’s alright.”
“You do look amazing, though.”
“Thank you, Siri.” Regulus felt himself welling up, but Sirius shouted at him.
“Don’t! You’ll smudge your makeup.” Sirius beamed at him. “Fancy showing off your new look?”
Regulus laughed. “Alright.”
“One last thing, to really make your legs pop.” Sirius held up a pair of black heels. Regulus gulped and just nodded. “Here, I’ll help. They’re a bitch to get used to.”
Once the shoes were in place, Sirius led Regulus into the living room, calling out to Remus as they walked.
When they stepped into the room, Regulus froze and the smile dropped from his face.
James was staring at him unblinking and Regulus felt like he was going to vomit. Why was he here? What if James hated this? What if he thought Regulus was a freak and wanted nothing more to do with him?
“Reg, you look…” Regulus watched the lump in James’ throat bob as he swallowed.
“Do you like it?” Regulus was shaking with nerves as James stood right in front of him, running his fingers up both of Regulus’ arms.
“Like it?” The look on James’ face suddenly turned predatory. “Fuck, baby, you look delicious.”
“There are other people in the room you know!” Sirius made a heaving sound.
James ignored Sirius as he ran his fingers over Regulus’ hips. “Wanna go home?” He growled.
Regulus nodded.
As James swept him from the room, grabbing his bag on the way out, Regulus called out that he’d pay Sirius back for the dress.
Hc that transfem Sirius and transmasc Regulus both transitioned when they weren’t in contact, when the reunited they realized they had basically swapped places because they both looked like exactly like the other pre-transition.
I think Regulus and Sirius would like "You Seem Pretty Sad for a Girl So in Love" because both of them, just like Olivia Rodrigo, discovered that love doesn't cure mental illnesses and disorders and all the other profound things she discovers in the album's songs, you know?
