chapter 39

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James POV

Tuesday, 18th January – The day passed, and James was almost certain that he didn't take in a single word spoken to him.

They were going to Hogsmeade. Together. A date.

He couldn't believe it. A few days ago, he had been desperately trying to ignore his feelings whilst Regulus pretty much completely shut himself off and refused to speak to him, and then they were snogging in an empty classroom.

He couldn't explain the absolute hurricane of emotion that had washed over him the very first time Regulus leaned in. All he could remember was the brief twist of fear, followed by surprise, followed by utter joy.

And that it so new to him. In the best way possible. Regulus wasn't the first person James had kissed, but he might as well have been.

Because it was nothing like the little peck he'd received from Marlene when he was fourteen years old, somehow even further from the drunken snog he'd shared with Emmeline and barely remembered afterwards.

Kissing Reggie was honey and fireworks. There was no other way to describe it except that it was everything delightful; cool water on a hot day, the crunch of fresh snow under your foot, the light of all the glittering stars in the sky. A feeling ten, a hundred times better than soaring high in the air on a Nimbus 1001, dowsed in the rush of wind and warm glow of the sunbeams.

It was beautiful.

In hindsight, that stuff was probably what James should have said up on the tower that night.

Instead, he'd gone with 'That was nice'.

Good job, Potter, he thought despairingly.

And when Regulus had said all of those lovely things to him, precious, wonderful, James had thought his heart might explode; once again, he'd failed to say everything he wanted to say for loss of the words to describe it in the moment.

Instead, he'd gone with just asking him out.

Very smooth. Nicely done.

Embarrassing? Most definitely.

But none of that mattered now, because Regulus said yes.

Saturday, 22nd January – They decided to take the Honeydukes' passage to Hogsmeade.

Straight after breakfast that morning – a breakfast spent hardly listening to his friends' conversations as he attempted not to stare at Regulus across the hall – James made his way to the third floor. He was practically bursting with excitement.

It wasn't like they hadn't seen each other since Regulus' birthday. In fact, during the few days in between then and now, they had met as often as possible: studying in the library or common room, early morning quidditch, and Regulus had even reluctantly joined him on a run the day before. And hated it.

"This is terrible," he'd declared.

"We've only just started!" James had laughed in response, over-taking and jogging backwards to face him. "And it's fun!"

"I strongly disagree."

"It's good for you."

"I know," Regulus grumbled. "But, Merlin, at what cost?"
James rolled his eyes.

"You're such a drama queen," he grinned.

But it had turned out just fine when they'd later found a spot at the edge of the Forbidden Forest that was obscured from the castle by trees, and sat, hand in hand, watching the sun rise.

The memory was still playing happily in James' head as he reached the third floor and quickly made his way to the passage entrance. Regulus was waiting for him by the statue of the one-eyed witch, wrapped in a thick black travelling cloak and wearing the knitted gloves that James had given him two Christmases ago. That in itself brought a warmth to his chest.

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