I can't even explain how much Starchaser coded this song is so, I had no choice but to write this.
April, come he will. When streams are ripe and swelled with rain
James as he huddled under the eaves of the castle, squinting at his watch. He sighed, the water dripping from his hair onto the glass, blurring the time. Late. He was always late.
The sound of hurried footsteps pulled his attention, and he glanced up. A figure broke through the rain, running toward him. James couldn’t look away as the pale form grew closer, sharp and distinct even against the storm. Regulus.
He stopped short, just inches away. Rain traced rivers down his face, clinging to his lashes, and his chest rose and fell as though he’d run for miles. For a moment, neither of them moved. James watched as Regulus’s hand lifted—tentative, deliberate—and brushed the wet hair from James’s forehead.
“You’re soaked,” Regulus said softly, his lips curling into a smile that made the storm seem quieter.
James couldn’t answer, couldn’t think. His eyes trailed down to the white shirt clinging to Regulus’s chest, translucent and plastered to his skin. Freckles, faint and scattered like constellations, dusted his shoulders and arms. James’s breath caught, and he looked back up, meeting Regulus’s gaze.
God, he’s beautiful, James thought.
Regulus’s smile widened, as though he knew exactly what James was thinking, and that was it. The careful dam of restraint broke.
“I don’t care,” James murmured, the words barely audible over the rain. Then he moved, closing the space between them in one swift motion.
His hands found Regulus’s hips, gripping them tightly as he pulled him close, their bodies colliding like thunder. He kissed him hard, the rain pressing them together in a shivering, breathless blur.
May, he will stay. Resting in my arms again
James leaned back against a gnarled tree, his arms wrapped snugly around Regulus, who rested against his chest, a book propped open in his hands.
James could feel the steady rise and fall of Regulus’s breath, the way his body fit so perfectly against his own, as if they’d been made to fit together like this. He glanced down at the book, catching glimpses of dense text and intricate diagrams, a potion, something powerful by the looks of it. He didn’t give the book much thought. Right now, nothing else mattered.
For a moment, the thought flickered, someone might be looking for them. They’d been gone too long, and Regulus wasn’t one to slip away unnoticed. But James pushed the thought aside. He didn’t care. Not today. Not now.
He propped his chin on top of Regulus’s head, inhaling the clean, earthy scent of him, mint, chamomile and something distinctly Regulus. Closing his eyes, he pressed a kiss to the boy's dark hair, lingering as if he could anchor this moment in time.
James couldn’t remember the last time he felt so content, so whole. There was something grounding about holding Regulus, the weight of him, the way he melted into James’s arms as if he belonged there.
June, he'll change his tune. In restless walks he'll prowl the night
The air was heavy as James lingered in the shadowed corner of Grimmauld Place. It was late, past nine, maybe later, but he didn’t care. The street was quiet and James’s eyes remained fixed on the tall, dark figure moving toward the Black family’s door.
James’s heart pounded as he stepped out of the shadows, his hand darting out to catch Regulus by the wrist. Regulus froze, startled, his sharp intake of breath cutting through the stillness. His wide eyes, pale in the moonlight, darted to James’s face, and for a moment, he looked terrified, like he’d been caught doing something forbidden.
“What are you doing here?” Regulus hissed, his voice tight and barely above a whisper. Before James could answer, Regulus tugged him into a narrow alley, hidden between two old brick buildings.
“What are you doing here?” Regulus repeated, his tone edged with urgency. His grip on James’s arm was firm, and his gaze flitted nervously toward the street as though expecting someone to appear.
Instead of answering, James leaned forward and kissed him, desperate and unthinking. For a brief moment, Regulus kissed him back, his lips soft but hesitant. But then he pulled away, his hands pressing flat against James’s chest.
“What’s going on?” James asked, breathless, searching Regulus’s face in the dim light. Something was wrong. He could feel it. “You’re acting weird.”
Regulus avoided his gaze, glancing down at the cobblestones. “You’re crazy. People could’ve seen us.”
“I don’t care,” James said, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “You haven’t been answering my owls. I haven’t seen you since we left Hogwarts, and, Merlin, I miss you.”
Regulus flinched at the words, his shoulders dropping. He looked up at James for a fleeting second before turning his head toward the darkened street.
“My family’s been watching me,” he murmured, the faintest crack in his voice. “Things are… different now. Since Sirius left.”
James reached for him, gently resting his hands on Regulus’s arms, but the boy stayed rigid, as if bracing for something James couldn’t see. “What do you mean?”
Regulus swallowed hard, his face unreadable. “I don’t have the freedom Sirius had. They… they can’t lose another son.” His voice broke on the last word, barely audible. “It’s worse now. Everything’s worse.”
James’s heart ached at the sight of him, so fragile and closed off, and he fought the urge to pull him into his arms. “Regulus,” he said softly, leaning closer, “you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to—”
“I do,” Regulus interrupted, his voice sharper now, defensive. He looked up at James, something flickering behind his eyes, fear, maybe, or regret. “You don’t understand. I can’t just leave like Sirius did. I don’t get to be free.”
July, he will fly. And give no warning to his flight
The room felt too small, the walls closing in with the weight of their argument. James’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. Regulus stood across from him, trembling, his pale face streaked with tears.
“Tell me it’s not true,” James demanded, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Tell me Dorcas was wrong. Tell me you’re not with him.” His voice cracked, but the anger burned hotter than the hurt.
Regulus shook his head, his lips trembling as he tried to speak. “James, listen to me, please—”
“No!” James roared, stepping closer, his frustration spilling over. He grabbed Regulus by the shoulders, shaking him. “I don’t want your excuses. Just say it! Say you’re not a killer!”
Regulus flinched at the word, his breath hitching. Tears welled in his eyes, and for a moment, he just stared at James, his lips parted but no words coming out. His silence was deafening.
“Regulus!” James’s grip tightened, his voice breaking. “Say it!”
More tears spilled down Regulus’s cheeks, and he shook his head, his whole body trembling. “What if I can’t?” he whispered, his voice so soft James almost missed it. “What will you do if it’s true?”
James froze, his heart plummeting as if the floor had been ripped out from beneath him. His hands fell from Regulus’s shoulders, and he stepped back, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “I—I’d never forgive you,” he said, his voice hollow and raw.
Regulus let out a choked sob, his shoulders sagging under the weight of James’s words. He looked at James, shaking his head slowly as more tears fell. Then, with trembling hands, he reached for his sleeves.
“No,” James said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t.”
But Regulus didn’t stop. He pulled his sleeves up, exposing the pale skin of his forearm. There, stark against his flesh, was the mark. Black and unmistakable.
James’s breath caught in his throat. “Reg—”
“Don’t,” Regulus interrupted, his voice sharp and broken all at once. He yanked his sleeves back down and took a shaky step back. His eyes met James’s for a fleeting moment, filled with a pain so deep it made James’s chest ache. “Don’t say anything. Just… don’t.”
James opened his mouth, but no words came. He reached out, his hand hovering in the space between them, but Regulus turned away before he could touch him.
But Regulus didn’t wait. He didn’t look back. He walked to the door, his steps unsteady, and disappeared into the night.
August, die he must. The autumn winds blow chilly and cold
The knock was loud, frantic, and relentless, shattering the stillness of the night. James stirred, groggy and disoriented, fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand. He rubbed his eyes as he stumbled to the door, his heart already racing from the urgency of the sound.
When he opened it, Sirius stood there, his face pale and streaked with tears. His dark hair clung to his damp cheeks, and he reeked of firewhiskey.
“Sirius?” James asked, his voice thick with sleep as he adjusted his glasses. “What—what’s going on?”
Sirius didn’t answer right away. He stepped forward, his movements unsteady, and pulled James into a crushing hug. James froze, his best friend’s sobs shaking them both.
“He’s dead,” Sirius choked out, his voice cracking.
“What?” James whispered, his mind struggling to catch up. He pulled back just enough to see Sirius’s face, red and swollen from crying. “Sirius, what are you talking about? Who’s dead?”
Sirius’s lips trembled as he stared at James, his grey eyes filled with a pain that made James’s stomach churn. “Regulus,” he said, his voice barely audible. “He’s dead, James. My brother’s dead.”
The words hit James like a curse, stealing the air from his lungs. “No,” he murmured, shaking his head as if he could will it not to be true. “No, that—Sirius, that can’t—”
James felt his knees buckle, his legs suddenly too weak to hold him. His heart twisted painfully in his chest, and he couldn’t stop the tears that began to spill down his face. He clung to Sirius, his mind a haze of disbelief and devastation.
He thought of Regulus—Regulus in the rain, smiling at him as if he were the only person in the world. Regulus in the meadow, his head resting against James’s chest. Regulus whispering his fears in the shadows of Grimmauld Place.
And now, Regulus was gone.
“How—how could this happen?” James whispered, his voice trembling. “How could he just…”
“I don’t know,” Sirius said again, his voice hollow. He buried his face in James’s shoulder, his tears soaking through the fabric. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
September, I remember. A love once new has now grown old
James stood in front of the mirror, his chest tight as Euphemia carefully adjusted his tie.
“You need to smile, James,” she said softly, her voice warm with affection. “It’s your wedding day.”
James nodded, though the smile that tugged at his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. The weight of everything still hung heavy on his heart.
The door creaked open, and Sirius stepped inside.
“Can I have a moment with him, Mum?” he asked Euphemia.
She smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Sirius’s ear. “Of course, darling. I’ll be in the next room if you two need anything.”
When the door clicked shut behind her, Sirius leaned against the dresser, his eyes never leaving James’s.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, the concern in his voice raw.
James swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
Sirius didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he straightened up and cleared his throat, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “I heard an old superstition,” he said, voice light but with an edge of something deeper. “For good luck on a wedding day, the bride needs something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.”
James gave a half-smile, despite himself. “I’m not the bride, Sirius.”
Sirius chuckled softly, then looked at James with something almost wistful in his eyes. “I know, but I think you could use something old.”
Without another word, Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a small photograph. He handed it to James, who took it gingerly. The picture was worn at the edges, faded slightly, but still clear.
It was Regulus. He was smiling at the camera, his pale blue eyes sparkling with something carefree, his dimples on full display. The sight of him made James’s heart lurch.
The tears that had been threatening all day began to spill over, and James blinked them away, his throat tight.
Sirius, standing just a few steps away, reached into his own pocket and pulled out a blue handkerchief, holding it out to James.
“Here,” Sirius said gently. “This is your something blue.”
James took the handkerchief, his hands trembling, and dabbed at his eyes, trying to stop the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.
Sirius stood quietly by just waiting.
When James finally looked up, his voice broke slightly, but he managed a small laugh through his tears. “You’re right,” he said, wiping his eyes. “This is exactly what I needed.”
Sirius’s smile was soft, almost sad. “Regulus loved you, James. He has forgiven you, I hope you know that.”
