Shattered Masks, Unbroken Vows - Jegulus

Chapter 10

The early morning light filtered through the windows as Regulus found himself wandering the halls of the Order's headquarters. He hadn't slept much—nightmares had plagued him, keeping him on edge, and the quiet darkness of his room had felt suffocating. The memory of cold, skeletal hands gripping at his skin haunted him every time he closed his eyes. He needed to move, to breathe, and somehow that had led him to search for the kitchen.

He wasn't expecting anyone else to be awake at this hour, so when he found the kitchen and saw James Potter standing at the counter, Regulus immediately tensed. He froze, half-hidden in the doorway, unsure whether he should slip back into the shadows or face him.

James hadn't noticed him yet. He was busy rummaging through the cupboards, his movements purposeful but somewhat absentminded. Regulus hesitated, his instinct telling him to turn and leave before James could spot him, but just as he shifted his weight to go, the floor creaked beneath him.

James looked up, startled, his hazel eyes widening in surprise before settling on Regulus. For a second, the air between them seemed to freeze.

"Regulus," James said, sounding a little breathless. He blinked as if he wasn't entirely sure that Regulus was real, then quickly recovered, offering a small, awkward smile. "Morning. Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Regulus said nothing, his expression unreadable, though the urge to turn and leave still clawed at him. He couldn't handle this right now. Not James. Not his presence, his stupid warmth, or the way his mere proximity sent old feelings rushing back to the surface.

"I was just... uh, making breakfast." James spoke quickly now, as though trying to fill the heavy silence. "I can make something for you too. You should eat."

Regulus shook his head slightly, his lips parting to refuse the offer, but before he could, James had already grabbed a pan and started bustling about the kitchen with a sort of frantic energy. Regulus stood awkwardly near the doorway, torn between staying and leaving. His feet felt rooted to the spot.

"Look, I know this place is a bit of a maze," James continued, clearly trying to keep the conversation light, though Regulus could hear the strain in his voice. "But the kitchen's always stocked with food, which is nice. I've got Harry staying with the Weasleys, so I've been coming here to work on a few things for the Order and—uh, anyway, toast or eggs? I'm good at eggs. Not as good as Sirius, though, he's got this weird talent for making breakfast food. Must be all those years of burning meals in that dingy flat of his."

Regulus blinked, watching as James blabbered on, moving around the kitchen with a kind of nervous energy that was, oddly enough, soothing in its own way. He wasn't entirely sure why, but seeing James like this—frazzled, talking too much, and clearly unsure of what to say—strangely settled the knot of tension that had been coiling in his chest all night.

Still, he didn't say a word. He simply watched.

"Anyway, the thing about the Weasleys—Molly, she's amazing with kids—Harry's been having the time of his life with Ron and the twins. You should see them together. He's... he's good. Healthy." There was a flicker of something deeper in James's voice when he mentioned Harry, something proud and yet tinged with grief. But he quickly masked it, turning back to the stove, where he cracked a couple of eggs into the pan. "Scrambled, right?"

Regulus didn't answer. He didn't need to. James just kept going, as if the silence wasn't nearly as suffocating as it felt.

The eggs sizzled as James stirred them with exaggerated care, his shoulders tight, his movements slightly erratic. He was talking—about anything, everything—but Regulus could sense the nervousness bubbling beneath the surface. The tension between them was palpable, hanging in the air like something unspoken that neither of them knew how to address.