☼✯?𝒟ℴ ℐ ℒℴℴ𝓀 ℒ𝒾𝓀ℯ ℋ𝒾𝓂?✯☼ JEGULUS/STARCHASER

☼✯3✯☼

✯ℐ 𝓁ℴℴ𝓀 𝓁𝒾𝓀ℯ 𝒽𝒾𝓂..☼

☼𝔽𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕋𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔽𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤☼

A Ghost of You

Chapter 3: Family Ties and Fractures

Regulus hated how loud the Great Hall was in the mornings. The clamor of clinking goblets, overlapping conversations, and the occasional crackle of magic from enchanted cutlery set his nerves on edge. It was too much stimulation this early in the day. Yet, there he sat at the Slytherin table, quietly pushing scrambled eggs around his plate while Barty animatedly recounted a particularly scathing prank he and Evan had pulled the night before.

"They'll never know it was us," Barty whispered gleefully, his voice cutting through the general noise as though it were aimed directly at Regulus.

Evan smirked over the rim of his goblet. "You say that like it's a good thing. If we're not caught, how will they know who to be afraid of?"

Barty rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Regulus, however, stayed silent, nodding absently to appear engaged. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy their company—Evan and Barty had been his closest companions since second year—but lately, he found himself retreating even from them.

"Regulus, you're so quiet this morning," Pandora observed, sitting across from him. Her voice was soft, lilting, a stark contrast to the chaos around them.

"I'm fine," he murmured, his voice barely carrying over the din.

"Liar," Pandora replied, though not unkindly. She tilted her head as if to say, I see you even if you won't talk.

Regulus shrugged, not meeting her eyes. He wasn't ready to explain what had been clawing at his mind since his encounter with James last night.

James.

The mere thought of him sent a shiver of unease through Regulus. He had replayed their conversation over and over, dissecting every word, every look. James had seen through him in a way few ever had, and that terrified him.

Regulus stiffened at the sound of Sirius's voice echoing through the hall. His older brother's laughter was unmistakable—loud, brash, and utterly carefree. It grated on Regulus like nails on a chalkboard. He turned his head instinctively, his gaze landing on Sirius at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by his usual crowd: Remus, Peter, and, of course, James.

Sirius didn't notice him, too busy recounting some story that had James nearly doubled over in laughter.

Must be nice, Regulus thought bitterly.

"Still no word from your brother?" Evan asked casually, though his tone carried a sharp edge.

Regulus's jaw tightened. "No."

Evan scoffed. "Figures. Sirius Black, the great deserter. Can't even bother to write his own brother."

"Evan," Pandora warned gently, her blue eyes darting toward Regulus.

"It's fine," Regulus said stiffly, though it wasn't. "He's made his choice. I don't care."

But he did care. He cared so much it hurt.

Sirius hadn't spoken to him in over a year. Not since their last explosive argument during the summer holidays, when Regulus had refused to join Sirius in his rebellion against their parents. Regulus had stayed behind, playing the part of the dutiful son, while Sirius had run off to live with the Potters—the perfect, golden family.

It wasn't just that Sirius had left. It was how he'd left, acting as though Regulus's decision to stay made him weak, complicit, or, worst of all, a true believer in their parents' blood supremacy. Sirius hadn't understood—or hadn't cared to understand—why Regulus couldn't leave.

And now, there was James Potter, somehow wedging himself into Regulus's life, uninvited and unwelcome.

"Regulus?" Pandora's voice pulled him back to the present.

He blinked, realizing he'd been gripping his fork so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Slowly, he set it down.

"I'm fine," he repeated, though no one at the table seemed to believe him.

Later that day, Regulus found himself in the library, seeking solace among the towering shelves. The quiet here was a balm to his frayed nerves. He thumbed through a worn copy of A History of Magical Astronomy, though his focus was elsewhere.

"You really like astronomy, huh reg?"

Regulus nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice. He turned sharply to find James standing there, hands shoved casually into his pockets, that ever-present grin softening into something almost...kind.

"What do you want?" Regulus asked, his voice low and wary.

James tilted his head, studying him. "To see if you're okay."

Regulus scowled. "Why would you care?"

James leaned against the edge of the table, his easy demeanor never faltering. "Because I can tell when someone's not fine, and you're definitely not."

Regulus snapped the book shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent library. "I don't need your pity, Potter."

James's smile faltered, but only slightly. "It's not pity. It's concern. There's a difference."

Regulus rolled his eyes, pushing past James with the intention of leaving, but James caught his wrist—lightly, not forcefully. It wasn't enough to hurt, but it was enough to make Regulus stop.

"I'm not trying to upset you," James said softly. "I just... I don't know. I feel like you're carrying a lot, and you shouldn't have to."

Regulus yanked his hand away, glaring at James. "You don't know anything about me. Stop pretending you do."

James straightened, his expression unreadable now. "Maybe I don't. But I'd like to."

Regulus froze, caught off guard by the sincerity in James's voice. He wanted to lash out, to tell James to leave him alone, to stop digging into things that weren't his business.

But for once, Regulus didn't have the words.

Instead, he turned on his heel and left the library, James's words echoing in his mind.

"I'd like to."

-----

That night, Regulus sat in his dormitory, staring at the small collection of rings on his desk. They were the only things he'd ever really chosen for himself—gifts he'd bought with his own money, tiny pieces of freedom in an otherwise controlled life.

His fingers brushed over the smooth silver band that Sirius had given him years ago, back when they'd still been brothers in the truest sense of the word. He hadn't worn it in months.

I'd like to.

James's words lingered like a ghost, haunting the edges of Regulus's thoughts.

Regulus always felt the need to push James and his stupid words out.. but he couldn't, for once in his life he felt as if he didnt have to push those words away. Not this time, strange enough, he couldn't decide if that was good or bad.

---

A/N: HAOOY THASGIING YALL 😸