When you're unsure how you feel in the dress the boys bought you, they make sure to re-inspire some confidence.
(reupload from previous blog, see navigation for more info!)
poly!jegulus x fem! reader
warnings: mostly fluff, sexual references and implied smut at the end, reader has hair and is able-bodied.
You rub the liquid-soft silk of your dress absent-mindedly between two fingers, eyes locked on your reflection in the bathroom mirror. When you'd tried it on just a few days ago, the shop lady had told you you were a vision; now you're sure she was just trying to sell her product.
You want to blame the sizing- maybe it's too small, the wrong shape, impossible to look good in even if you had the body of a mannequin. But even that doesn't seem plausible. It's a beautiful dress, high-quality with a price to match. There's no alternative: you must be the problem, straining fabric with the parts of you that you wish you could just forget about.
You breathe out as much as you can, trying not to flush with the embarrassment you feel at the thought of having to show your boyfriends just what a mistake it was, encouraging you to spend their money on a pretty dress you can't possibly wear. It was wrong of you to accept the gift. Guilt boils hot and hurting in your stomach as you imagine your lovely boyfriends, so pleased to finally have convinced you to let them sponsor such a luxury. How awful to repay them by looking dowdy and silly and not at all right for something so beautiful.
You think quickly, aware of the expectant pair sitting just seconds away in the living room. You can't pass them without revealing yourself, but the prospect is unimaginable. What a waste of money.
“Baby?” James’ voice, soft and cheerful, sounds from just past the door. Your throat tightens. “Not that we’re too miffed, but we would like to see you at some point. You’ve been in there since we got back from the shops twenty minutes ago.”
Shit. You curse yourself for deciding to come in here for a full-body view of the dress, leaving all your other clothing in the bedroom. Exiting naked would usually warrant rather a happy reaction from the boys, but after looking a few moments more at the outline of your body in the mirror, that doesn't seem like a good option either. “Sorry!”
"Not to worry, sweetheart."
James’ white bathrobe is the only reasonable alternative. You grab it off the hook by the towels and wrap it around yourself, nodding contentedly as it reveals only a sliver of fabric at your chest and nothing more. You might as well be wearing a nightie, for all they know. The dress will just have to be returned, and you'll tell them you couldn't find one that fit- technically correct.
You aim to leave the bathroom casually, but that becomes almost impossible when you open the door and find yourself face-to-face with Regulus, his fist raised as if to knock.
“Hi, Reg!” Too cheery. You tamper down your smile and stand on your tip-toes to kiss him, holding the robe tightly around yourself.
“Hello. I was just going to ask what you wanted for dinner. Are you alright, darling?" He wonders, watching you with storm-grey eyes that always seem to see just a little more than you're expecting them to.
"Of course! Dandy." You supply.
He cocks his head, unmoving. "You’re in an odd mood.”
“What? No. This is my usual mood,” You insist.
“M-hm.” His eyes drop momentarily down to the robe, narrowing. “Any particular reason you're wearing James' robe?”
“Am I?”
The aforementioned individual appeared, suddenly, grinning. “I don’t mind. Looks great, very sexy!”
You wonder if it's possible for your face to heat so much that it melts.
“Incorrigible, James.” Regulus says softly.
You give him a weak smile, squirming away from the impossible weight of their combined gazes and heading for the bedroom. Regrettably, they follow you.
“Why are you wearing it, angel?” James asks, flopping onto the bed.
You shrug, searching for an opportunity to get them both to leave you alone to change. The truth is that your own robe would've been much too short, and if they see the bottom of the dress they'll probably ask for the whole thing, and that's just not going to happen. You press your fingers into the soft curve of your lower stomach nervously, taking a few steps backwards until your back hits the wall. James' brows pull together.
“Um. I don't know.”
The two of them exchange a glance. You understand; you're not exactly behaving in a normal manner.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Regulus asks. You like to think you're better at reading his expressions than most- the slight slant of his dark brows tells you he's concerned, but you can't get a good read on the rest of it.
"Yes, I'm fine! Why are you- I- I'm just a little warm."
"Call me crazy, angel," James says, amused, "But taking off the robe might help with that."
Your reply comes too quickly, to your immediate regret. "No!"
There's a brief silence. You feel like a total idiot, but you're sure it beats the feeling you'd get seeing them pretend to like the way you look right now. You squeeze your eyes shut for second, swallowing hard.
"I'm sorry," You sound mortifyingly close to tears. "Sorry. I just- sorry."
At a total loss, James stares at you from the bed. Regulus touches your upper arm gently.
"There's no need to apologise, darling, just tell us what's happened. What's made you so upset?"
You force yourself to make eye contact. "Please can you both just go while I get changed?"
Their expressions are awful; knowing you're causing such a fuss over something so trivial, so stupid, you feel like just about the worst girlfriend in the world.
“Is there something you're worried we'll see? Bruises, or something?” James asks. "We can go, baby, but if there's something going on it might be better for Reg or me to take a look. You know I was joking when I said I'd break up with you if you got that tattoo of Margaret Thatcher's face."
You deflate, softened by his attempt to break the tension. Regulus rolls his eyes, but you see the corner of his mouth twitch. "What's going on, hm?" He asks quietly.
With a sigh, you stare at the ground, giving up. They're too lovely to stick to your original plan- you'll just have to let it happen, and hope to make up for it another time by looking better.
"...I'm not sure you'll love what you see."
“Of course we’ll love it. We love you.” Regulus says firmly, like it's obvious.
“That doesn’t mean-”
“Angel. Take the robe off, yeah? We’ll prove it to you.”
At James' insistence, you take a deep breath and stare at the ground as you shrug off the robe, wrapping your arms around your middle. You're keenly aware of the places where your skin presses against fabric, the way it falls, and the heat rushing to your cheeks. Oh, god.
"Fuck." Regulus says, uncharacteristically crude. You curl in on yourself a little further.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s not how it looked on the-”
James interrupts you. “Baby? I’m gonna be honest, because I love you, okay?”
“Okay.” You say meekly, eyes stinging. Maybe it's even worse than you’d thought.
“I cannot hear a single word you are saying when you look that good. Like, a single word. It’s all lost on me. I’m going to need a minute.”
Regulus’ hands are on you before you could properly react to James’ words, drawing your arms away from your body and taking in the dress with hungry eyes.
“Exquisite, sweetheart," He exclaims, hands on yours. "I would say you’re never taking this off, but that’s actually all I want to do.”
"What?" You manage, smiling despite yourself. You pull your hands away and press them to your face. "Reg, you don't have to-"
“You thought we wouldn’t want to see this?” Hands on your shoulders, Regulus spins you once, before pulling your back against his chest and planting a heated kiss to the side of your neck. “And you called me crazy?”
“You’re- I’m- what?” You stammer. James makes an unintelligible sound from the bed, pressing a dramatic hand to his heart. "Thank you."
"James is very thankful." Regulus whispers into your hair. You laugh out loud, a little giddy at all their praise. "D'you know what I'd be thankful for right now?"
"What?"
"You on that bed, darling," He says. You lean into his touch as his hand slides down your side, squeezing a part of your waist you'd prodded critically in the mirror not ten minutes ago. Now you enjoy the feeling of his warm hands through the thin fabric, enjoy having a shape his hands both appreciate so well. "Off you go."
It's an instruction, now, and you shiver at the authority in his tone as you obey. James is on you before the duvet has even settled, making you gasp as he presses kisses all over your face.
“I’m going to destroy this dress. I’m sorry.” He says earnestly. You giggle happily, insecurities not quite gone but coated in a honey-sweet joy that softens their presence.
“I thought you liked it.”
“M-hm. It’s okay,” His hand finds your thigh and grips it firmly, fingers pressing into soft skin. “We’ll buy you a million more.”
You let yourself enjoy it all for a moment more before giving any space to the snarky voice at the back of your mind, more out of a desire for reassurance than genuine belief that the two boys on top of you would genuinely do such a thing. "You're not- not just saying all this to make me feel better?"
“Why would we ‘just say’ this?” Regulus murmurs against your right shoulder, forearm across your stomach as he does wicked things to your skin that you'll have to cover in concealer if you want to wear anything sleeveless for a few days.
“...I don't know. Make me feel better?”
“You’re stunning. Literally- how often is James speechless, hm?”
You laughed. “Hardly ever.”
“Exactly. You're quite regularly the most beautiful girl either of us have ever seen, darling, whether you're feeling the same way or not,” Regulus leans on his elbow to look at you sternly. "We don't appreciate you this way because you look like somebody else, we adore you because you're yourself, and completely radiant."
“I don’t think you don't like me, I promise. It’s just something that’s in my brain- that I’m ugly, or something. It's silly."”
"It is," James agrees, allowing Regulus to return to whatever he's doing to your collarbone. "But it's not your fault. Your only job is to listen to what we're telling you, instead of your insecurity. Yeah?"
"Yeah," You nod, a little breathless. It's very easy to be agreeable when they're doing all these things to you. James kisses a line down your throat, to your chest, to your arm, slipping the strap of the dress down to follow. “I love you both," You manage.
*Got inspired to write this little scene for your fic prey*
"What about a constellation/star name like my family does?" Regulus offers. At the sound of his voice, James comes into the loo to check on him. James stills and leans on the doorframe at the sight of the(his?) Omega.
Regulus Arcturus Black is for once calm( it's telling by the sweet content smell coming from him), soaking in the tub of warm mineral bath water. Most of Regulus' body is hidden by the water, you can only see Regulus arms and head leaning on one side, laying on a bath pillow. He has a book close to his face hiding his expression, dark curls slicked back with water.
The only other thing you can see is quite obvious. Like a little island in the middle of all that water is Regulus' stomach. It's his round, 5 months pregnant stomach. The sight of it brings something warm and possessive inside James. Both Alpha and just James in general.
Regulus at James' silence, finally lowers the book a little so his storm gray eyes can peak up at him from over the edge of his book. 'His eyes look happy,' thinks James.
"James what do you think?", said Regulus.
Shaking away the thought, James focuses on the now. And the now is Regulus(his Omega he can't think).
"A constellation/star name? Really? I was thinking more of the first thing I called them when I first found out," James jokes playfully. Not being able to stay put anymore, James goes to him. Kneeling right by the tub, James lays his head and arms on the tubs edge.
At that Regulus scoffs, and brings the book back up to hide his face. "We are not calling him oops."
James grins at Regulus, "How do you know it's a him?" James gently lays his hand on Regulus stomach. Soothingly rubbing his thumb along the wet skin.
"Just a feeling," Regulus mumbles shy. Trying to act like the touch is not affecting him, but James has eyes and a nose. The alpha can smell the affect he's having on the Omega, and see the sweet pink flush on his pale cheeks.
"Where did you get the book?" James questioned. Said book is "Book of names for your little witch or wizard."
Regulus turns a page and replies, "Owl ordered it. Was the best one they had. Most popular baby names for witches and wizards for the 80s." Regulus than frowns in annoyance, lowering the book from his face. To James he looks like a grumpy cat. A grumpy cat that makes you want to kiss his nose. James resists the temptation for now.
"Nothing sounds right," Regulus mutters. He hands the book to James, than runs his hands over his stomach. His touching James. As if they both want to sooth the unborn child at the same time. "Names have meaning, and he should have a strong name. Something that can protect him when we can't."
James skims through the book, not really looking. Honestly (and this is crazy, but it's James), the Alpha had already thought of a few names. After the first few weeks (and what a hard time those were) James without realizing it started thinking of a couple of names.
James offers casually, "What about Harry?"
Regulus who was leaning back fully onto the bath pillow, twitches than looks up at James. "Harry?" James smiles as Regulus sounds out the name. "Harry if it's a boy, and maybe Effie if it's a girl," continues James.
Regulus squints his eyes at James in thought. James babbles on nervous. " Effie is obviously for my mom. And well the name Harry just fits you know. At first it sounds like a normal name, but when you look up the meaning, it means strong. War god. Someone who has strength. And you were right, our baby could use all the-."
James is stopped from his babbling by Regulus, who puts soft wet fingers to his lips.
"I like it."
"You do?" James smiles at his nod. Finally them agreeing on something.
James kisses Regulus fingers in happiness, causing again for Regulus to blush.
Than wanting to be bold(Gryffindors, give them an inch and they take a mile), James leans over to Regulus round stomach and kisses near the belly button. "Hear that baby? You'll name will be Harry."
Regulus is trying not to smile, but do to hormones the Omega is failing.
To his Alpha he says, " Harry James Potter."
James looks back up at him in shock, but the shock on his face quickly turn to pure happiness and some other unnamable second emotion (it's love, neither of them dares to admit that. Even to themselves).
And because that causes James so much happiness, he leans over to kiss his Omega right on the mouth. His Omega kisses right back and than some. For now all is well for the three of them.
@jegulus-microfic january 9 - write - 946words - feat. fem!harry because i was craving girldads
(this one also esp goes out to @veryinnovative)
“Papa?”
“Yes, mon chou?” Regulus responds, shaking a curl out of his eyes to look over his shoulder as he keeps stirring.
Harrie is still bent over her artwork, crayon held in a tight fist, pigtails standing askew with half her hair falling out of them and in her little face anyways.
“Will you help me write my name?”
Regulus lowers the temperature of the stovetop to let the sauce simmer as he puts on the lid, “Of course. I’ll be right there.”
He crouches down to check the potato wedges and veggies in the oven, satisfied when they look according to the alarm he set, and gives his hands a quick rinse before he saunters over to his daughter.
The soles of his plush slippers are a faint noise against the whirring of the oven and the soft bubbling of the pot. The air smells warm and cozy with the home-cooked meal and the drying clementine peels that are still on the table from Harrie’s earlier snack.
Regulus bends over her to regard her painting, nose buried into her wayward hair, inhaling. It smells like her Strawberry Shortcake (the kid’s show) shampoo, like James’ cologne and still that distinct brand of baby that Regulus is utterly obsessed with and hopes she never loses. Well, at least as long as she’s small enough for him to still pick her up.
Harrie is unperturbed, keeps drawing little blue petals around a flower besides what Regulus assumes must be their cat, Mochi. Or maybe a very oversized ant. His little artiste.
“Can I give you a kiss?” Regulus mumbles into the crown of her head.
“Yup.”
Harrie squeals when Regulus plants a loud smooch on her chubby cheek. She smells like grapes and walnuts there too. James must’ve packed them for her lunch in kindergarden.
She tapers off into a hearty giggle when Regulus keeps peppering kisses before he lets himself fall into the kitchen chair beside her.
“So,” Regulus says pointedly, making a show of granting her his undivided attention.
Harrie nods her head, making little, silly Mhm-mhm-mhm noises. Like she’s trying to convey the importance of what follows. Or like she has a tune stuck in her head. Regulus bets his money on both.
He grins, tucking a strand behind Harrie’s ear that just falls right back into place. “Where do you want your name?”
A tongue pokes out of the corner of his daughter’s mouth and she turns her pen to point at the top edge with the end of it, “Right here.”
“Alright.”
Harrie chooses another color for her signature and then they begin to write together.
“An H. Huh—as in house,” Regulus makes, Harrie repeating the sound automatically. “Two straight lines down and then one across the middle. Good job.”
“Then Ay,” Harrie continues. The beginning of the alphabet she’s already got memorized.
“That’s right, mon chou.”
“Ha-rrr.”
“An R—that’s a straight line, with a bump on top and a leg on the bottom. That’s it. We need another one of those, remember? Your name has two.”
Just as Harrie sets onto the next letter Regulus hears a car rumble up into their driveway, head instinctively swiveling around to the window.
When he looks back down the second R isn’t entirely correct. “Whoops—look, this one has its leg on the wrong side, honey.”
“Oh,” Harrie makes, eyebrows rising, and she goes to grab her eraser.
She corrects her letter and then proceeds to draw the I without prompting from Regulus, adding a wonky heart on top.
“Good job. And an—”
“E–like eeeraser,” his daughter sings, adding the three horizontal lines to the last letter, right as Regulus hears a keychain jingle against the front door.
Harrie is now drawing a little star next to her name as James comes into the kitchen with Mochi in his arms, a leaf sticking to his paw.
“Daddy,” Harrie yells, scrambling down from her chair and hasting into James’ arms, Mochi already fleeing for his cat tree, presumably.
James hums delightedly, smiling as he squeezes their daughter to his chest, “Mm, mi amorcito.”
He’s still in his coat and beanie from outside, glasses fogging up—though luckily for him, he’s had the mind to slip out of his boots at least.
Harrie rubs her palms along James’ stubbled jaw when they pull apart, making him chuckle. “Missed me?”
“A little,” Harrie shrugs.
“Oh, only a little, huh?” James challenges, whisking Harrie up and whirling her around in the air, twirling himself and making her scream with joy.
He sets her against his hip after he successfully lost one of her hair ties on his little escapade, never to be found again or for Mochi to play with.
“Smells amazing, love,” James says warmly, gazing at Regulus before helping Harrie gently pull out the other hair tie too.
Which reminds him Regulus to check on the sauce again.
He smiles sweetly at his husband and wanders back over to the counter, grabbing the lid with a kitchen mitten and stirring the thickening sauce as he gets hit by its savoury tang and hint of black pepper and parsley.
At his back he hears Harrie and James babbling, conversing about something or the other as she takes her seat again. Something about finger paints and Ron and tea cup and pee accident.
Regulus is just stretching to get some plates when there’s strong arms wrapping around him from behind, prompting his lips into another immediate smile.
“Mi vida,” his husband mumbles, pressing a soft kiss behind Regulus’ ear.
James is warm and smells like caramel latte and outside air and the same hint of cologne found in their daughter’s hair.
you and @ecstarry requested this one so here’s this for both of you😈😈
prompt: 61). “I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.” // jegulus // sfw // words: 944
Regulus studies the wedding rings on the ring bearer’s pillow in his dressing room with loathing. His stiff, old-fashioned dress robes make him fidget, wanting to crawl out of his own skin the closer he gets to the ceremony.
The ceremony. The event that will ruin his life and chain him to a woman he has no room in his heart to love.
Not that there is anything wrong with Cereus Greengrass; she just…
Isn’t him, a small, despicable voice in his head whispers. She isn’t the one who has seen his scars. She isn’t the one who broke down his brainwashed mentality and helped him see that his former truths were bigotry and hatred.
She isn’t the one who begged him not to go when he announced his engagement.
Regulus had been betrothed since birth to Adelaide Rosier, but that all fell through once Sirius ran away, plummeting the Black family’s status down to the bottom of the totem pole. For a brief while — two glorious years — he allowed himself to believe that he would be able to marry someone of his own choosing. This hope only grew stronger once he fell in love with him.
Beautiful brown skin and golden wire-rimmed glasses. Forested eyes and warm muscles that flexed and relaxed on the Quidditch pitch (and in the soft retreat of the Come-and-Go Room). A secret just for Regulus, one he could hold close to his heart until the time came to reveal it to the world.
Then, Lucius properly introduced Walburga and Orion to the Greengrass family. As it turned out, their eldest daughter was in need of a husband, and Regulus fit the bill down to the letter.
He could see no way out. Voldemort himself believed that it was something that had to be done. Regulus had no choice.
Or so he tells himself.
Yet sitting at his dressing room vanity, listening to the orchestra play the tune of noon, he cannot help but wonder what would have happened if he went with James. If he had accepted that extended hand and trusted that whatever plan his boyfriend had concocted on the spot would be successful. Would it be their wedding happening at this venue today instead?
No, he cannot dwell on the past. James has gone away, and Regulus himself is at fault for that.
He hasn’t had any lovers since you left him, that voice whispers again.
“Shut up,” Regulus hisses aloud through gritted teeth.
“Well, damn, Reg. I just got here, and you’re already sending me away.”
That voice. He knows that voice. He’s dreamt of that voice.
His back stiffens, and he uses all his courage to drag his eyes up from the vanity counter and to the mirror, where he sees behind him —
“Jamie?”
The nickname slips out like a desperate plea, begging to be heard after eons of disuse.
“Surprise.” The boy in the mirror grins weakly, though his voice cracks and trembles.
“You can’t be here.” Please don’t leave.
“I had to try. I won’t stop trying until both of us are dead. I had to take a few months to plan after you told me about…this, but I’m here now, and Regulus —“ James walks closer to him, and Regulus’ legs lift him up against his will, pulling him toward old familiar comforts.
James’ hands find his face — he’s in an old Gryffindor sweatshirt and jeans, but Regulus couldn’t care less — and he says with no hesitation,
“I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married. Sirius is in a Muggle car out front waiting for us to come out. We’ll go away, far away, to your uncle Alphard’s place; he’s already agreed. If anyone tries to stop us, I’ve gotten Crouch and Rosier on board to cause a diversion. Regulus, please, I —“ His voice catches, and Regulus feels his entire world change in the span of a second.
Could he do it? Could he leave behind everything, the altar, the rings, the loveless marriage, his parents? But what about the dangers? What about Voldemort? If he goes with James, will the Dark Lord find them? And Sirius — they haven’t spoken in years. Is he really outside, willing and eager to help him escape?
“We all want you back. We need you back. I love you so much, Regulus,” James insists. Regulus’ cheeks heat up between his palms.
I can’t.
“Okay.”
What?
“What? You — you mean it?”
“Okay. I mean it. Take me. Now. Before…”
Before I change my mind. Before the ceremony starts and the music plays and the rings are slipped on and my life stops and my prison begins.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you —“ James half-sobs, cutting himself off by pulling Regulus’ face toward his and crashing their mouths together in the first kiss Regulus has had in a long, long time.
They spend no more moments on words after that. James grabs his hand, and they both hurry out the window, which is apparently what James used to enter the room. How he got in without Regulus noticing is a mystery neither of them will ever solve.
James hasn’t stopped murmuring “thank you”s, doesn’t stop even after they’re hours down the road, headed for a countryside where love grows and happiness shines down in the form of sun rays.
Regulus doesn’t mind, he curls up in the arms of the one he loves and listens to the soft rumblings within James’ chest as he speaks, the vibrations lulling him into his first true moment of relaxation since that night in the Come-and-Go Room so many months ago.
It was first year, Regulus was walking into Hogwarts, eager for his first year.
His mother made it clear what would happen if he got Gryffindor like his older brother did, so he was relieved when he was placed in Slytherin.
He sat down at the Slytherin tables for dinner and struck up conversation with 2 other boys from the table, Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr.
By his 3rd day, Regulus was beyond tired of hearing about how cool his brother was, because frankly, he didn’t care.
So he avoided his brother in the hallways, which wasn’t hard aside from the fact that they shared many classes together.
Somewhere in Reg’s second week of Hogwarts, Sirius came bursting into Potions class, out of breath and disheveled, his hair was obviously just recently thrown up into a mess on the top of his head, “I’m sorry, Professor Slughorn, won’t happen again.” Sirius was followed closely by Remus Lupin, who was doubled over, catching his breath as well, and Peter who seemed a bit more composed despite his labored breaths, there were small traces of laughter coming from them both.
Regulus rolled his eyes, and just before looking back down at his book, in strolled a fourth boy, much more calm than his panicked companions, he seemed to be in no rush at all.
Regulus was captivated, he was sure his face had began to flush and his eyes grew just the smallest bit wider.
The boy pushed his glasses up slightly as he grabbed the parchment from Slughorn and listened to the instruction the professor gave them.
Regulus couldn’t unglue his eyes from the boy in front of him. He looked so casually reckless, his hair was perfectly disheveled and Regulus was completely and utterly enthralled.
“Careful there, Black. You’ll get drool on your book,” Barty teased from beside him, earning snickers from Evan.
Regulus felt warmth creep to his face and he shoved the boys, “Shut up.” But his eyes were immediately drawn back to the boy standing behind Sirius, now chuckling at something Remus had whispered.
How had Regulus never seen this boy before?
Suddenly, the boy looked up as if he could feel someone’s eyes on him and met eyes with Regulus. Regulus’s eyes widened, and his face felt feverishly hot now. A playful grin touched at the boy’s lips when he caught Regulus’s stare.
And just like that, the boy’s eyes were drawn back to the board as Sirius nudged his shoulder.
Regulus turned to Barty, “Who’s that?”
“That’s James Potter. He’s on the quidditch team. He’s a chaser, I think”
Regulus’s gaze turned back to the boy once more.
James Potter.
“Hey, you know,” Regulus said, “I think I’ll try out for the quidditch team.”
from @jegulus-microfic's prompt, comfortable (100 words)
hag writing an actual drabble again look at me gooooo
“Love-”
“No.”
“Reg, I just want to get you some water,” James says softly, running his hands through Regulus’ hair. Regulus just snuggles closer to him.
“No. Stayyy,” he insists. He does look adorable, James admits, curled up in a blanket like a little burrito and lying across James' lap. But he's sick and he really does need to drink water. James sighs.
"Accio water glass," James mumbles and an empty glass comes flying into his hand. "Aguamenti." The glass fills with water. "Now drink up, love." He holds the glass for Regulus who smiles, taking a sip.
