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@jegulus-microfic | April 18: sock | 1.6k

James is sexiled and decides to spend time with Regulus.

There’s a sock on the door knob.

It’s been a long day and James is tired and there’s a fucking sock on the door knob and if he listens close enough he can hear soft grunts.

He’s happy for Sirius and Remus, really, he is, he just wishes that they’d fuck at Remus’ every now and then, and at least keep it to the bedroom.

Sirius and James share a college flat with Peter, Marlene and Lily, so there aren’t many options when they’re all out. Today,  James knows that Peter and Lily have chess club, and Marlene’s training for the women’s boat race, so it’s only him who’d be around.

He sighs and turns around, sending Regulus a text as he goes.

Been sexiled – your dorm free?

He’s walking before he’s received a response – he’s almost positive that the answer will be ‘yes’, and he hasn’t seen Regulus in a week, so they’re long overdue a catch up.

Their friendship was one of the more unexpected things to come out of Regulus bucking centuries of Black tradition and instead following in his brother’s footsteps, choosing Cambridge over Oxford. He settled in nicely to Corpus Christi, flying through his first few years as a history undergraduate while Sirius and James chose Trinity instead.

It took a while but slowly and tentatively Sirius and Regulus attempted to heal their relationship, strained by Regulus’ years at Harrow after Sirius packed up and left when he was sixteen, dropping out and enrolling at a local state school instead. They’re much better now; their barbs at each other aren’t quite as jagged. There’s love there, now, rather than just animosity.

As Regulus and Sirius attempted to mend their relationship, James and Remus had been called in early on to mediate, or sometimes it was Regulus’ friends, Evan and Barty, or even Pandora. From those early tentative meetings in neutral territory, new and interesting friendships bloomed, most of all between Regulus and James.

From early study sessions, it evolved into coffee dates and library outings, and when Remus and Sirius sorted their shit out it became even more frequent – the pair never make James feel like a third wheel, but nonetheless they deserve time to themselves, even if James would prefer for them not to fuck on every and any available surface in their dorm.

Regulus is a comforting presence for James; he doesn’t demand anything of him. James is naturally an extrovert; always the centre of a room, but sometimes he needs to recharge, and Regulus lets him do that. He reminds James of calm waters on a spring day, and whenever James needs to quiet his mind, he finds the youngest Black. He only hopes he offers Regulus some of the same comfort in return.

That, and maybe something more. Maybe he hopes that one day there’s a sock on his door knob, and that the reason is Regulus..

James is drawn out of his thoughts as his phone dings.

Sure – text me when you’re here, will come meet you

It’s a five-minute walk but James makes it there in two, calling Regulus to get him to buzz him in. He’s a familiar figure amongst the second years at Corpus, and he’s pretty sure a few of them will have also texted the youngest Black to alert him to James’ presence.

The college door opens and Regulus emerges, dressed in sweatpants and a Trinity rowing sweatshirt that James left last time he was over. He’s so lovely, James thinks, an impulse he doesn’t know how to control; isn’t sure he wants to control it.

“Sexiled, huh?” Regulus holds the door open as James steps through, falling into step with each other and walking up a flight of stairs to reach Regulus’ dorm. It’s empty, although that isn’t uncommon for Regulus. Barty and Evan hold unsociable hours, and Regulus, Pandora and Dorcas have a frankly insane amount of extracurriculars to attend, so they’re rarely together.

“There was a sock on the front door and I’m pretty sure I could hear noises so I didn’t want to risk it,” James says, settling himself in the kitchen, finding Regulus’ mug and a new one with a deer in glasses; a ‘congratulations’ for James’ performance in the inter-college boat races that’s become a permanent fixture in Regulus’ dorm.

He locates the teabags; Yorkshire for James, organic for Regulus, before turning back to the mugs.

“I don’t blame you – those two seem to spend more time fucking than not – it’s a minor miracle they get any work done,” Regulus chuckles, gently bumping James’ hip to get to the fridge, taking out his oat milk and James’ rice milk.

They settle into the routine like it’s second nature; they’re familiar with each other in a way that’s almost intimate. They stand together waiting for the kettle to boil, perhaps a bit too close for it to be entirely platonic, but James isn’t going to move away if Regulus doesn’t.

He always feels like they’re teetering on the edge of something more than what they are, something better, but for all of James’ bravery, he isn’t sure how to make the next move, and he doesn’t want to wreck this peace that Regulus and his brother have been working so hard on.

“So, how was your day?” Regulus asks, tilting his head to better look at James. He looks unbelievably soft in James’ jumper and James thinks that if he just moves his pinkie he can link it with Regulus’.

“Exhausting. I had rowing first thing and a few readings to do for my supervision that I’d completely missed,” James sighs. He loves his degree but he’s never been as organised as Regulus, who seems to have work done almost before it’s set. “Also, I spent a solid ten minutes looking for that jumper.”

A light blush creeps up Regulus’ cheeks at that. “Sorry, you left it here after practice last week so I washed it but completely forgot to text you.”

A smile falls across James’ face. “You’re fine, Reg, and besides, it suits you. I guess I should get myself a Corpus one to match, huh?” He smirks as the red of Regulus’ cheeks becomes more pronounced.

The kettle whistles and Regulus turns away from James to fill their cups. “James Potter, behave yourself.” He hip checks James again, this time with a bit more force. Except he doesn’t move back. He stays there, leaning against James, and James feels like his entire body’s a livewire.

The tightrope they’re walking is getting more taut, and James finds himself eager for the fall.

“But Regulus, dearest, where’s the fun in that?” He leans forward, entirely too close for it to be platonic, and Regulus is turning, turning-

“Ow! Fuck!” James forgot about the fact that Regulus was holding a kettle of boiling water, and he’s paying for that now. Water splashes over the counter as Regulus rushes to put the kettle down, taking James’ hand and leading him over to the tap.

He turns the cold water tap on, letting it flow over their entwined hands. He is too still, too silent, and James wants to go back to where they were. He wants the tightrope back. He wants to fall.

He can be brave, he thinks, if it means he gets to have something with Regulus.

Regulus is staring intently at their entwined hands, like it’s the most fascinating thing in the universe, and James breaks the silence.

“Reg-”

“What are we doing, James? We’ve been tiptoeing around each other for weeks and it’s driving me insane and I want to be around you all the time and I think I’m already half in love with you so I’d love if you can clear up what this is,” he states, false bravado injected into his tone, but James can hear the tremors. He’s so nervous, but so brave. Regulus Black, the Lion Heart.

It takes a while for the words to register in James’ head.

Oh.

Oh.

James removes his hand from the running water, ignoring the slight sting and the inevitable burn that will be left. He cups Regulus’ cheek, forcing the younger boy to look at him. Regulus is terrified, but so hopeful.

“Reg, I- I want-” James runs his hand through his hair in frustration. He can’t get his words out.

“Jamie?” Regulus’ voice is so soft, as though he’s worried he’ll scare James off, and the only thing James can do is kiss him.

Regulus’ lips are rough, a bit chapped from where he nibbles on them when he’s nervous. He tastes of tea and cinnamon and James wants to devour him. There is nothing soft about it. James’ tongue darts out, soothing Regulus’ lips, and the younger boy lets out a moan that’s pure filth and ecstasy and James is falling, falling, fallen.

He wants to do this forever.

His hands find their way to Regulus’ waist, tracing the skin underneath the Trinity sweater that’s been driving James insane since he first saw Regulus wearing it. It’s his, it’s him.

They break apart to breathe and James attaches his lips to Regulus’ neck, marking, claiming. He can’t think beyond this moment, beyond the boy in front of him.

“Jamie, we should- we need to-” he cuts himself off, broken sighs escaping his lips as he tangles his hands in James’ hair.

James reluctantly removes himself from Regulus’ neck, taking the boy’s face in his hands. “Do you want this, Reg? Do you want me?”

Regulus’ eyes trace James’ face, and whatever he sees softens him.

“Always, Jamie.” And James is lost.

They’ll talk about it later, as the sunlight paints the walls of Regulus’ room, but this is enough for now. For ever.

And if Barty finds a sock on the door knob when he comes back from the library, well, that’s between him and Regulus.

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

some best friends, some longing

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

I saw the ask and I would love some recs for fireman!Sirius! Thank you for your hard work 🩶

You got it, friend! Thanks for the ask!

🔥 Fireman Sirius 🧑‍🚒

He's Too Hot (Hot Damn) by @NeonDomino Remus just can't seem to cook, and seems to set fire to everything. Sirius is the fireman that turns up each time to put it out.

A rocky rescue by BenettClaire It’s a truth universally aknowledged that if there’s something worse than being stuck in an elevator, it’s being stuck in an elevator with someone afraid of elevators. However, Remus is about to find its perks, too.

The One With The Boyfriend Cleanse by @curlyy-hair-dont-care Dateless on Valentine's day, Remus, Lily and Alice felt they were being haunted by the bad vibes of terrible exes and decided to perform a 'boyfriend cleanse' which might have gone wrong before it set things right.

How Teddy Lupin Became an Amateur Arsonist by moonscone When Teddy meets Sirius, he is immediately smitten. Sirius is cool, he's funny, and he's a fireman! Teddy would do anything to keep someone as brilliant as Sirius in his life. When Sirius and his Da seem to hit it off, the idea is only solidified. Teddy Lupin was going to make Sirius Black his second father, and nothing was going to stop him from achieving his goal.

BONUS: This fic features both of them fighting fires as part of the wizarding war, so not sure if it counts but am including it anyway.

Under a Strange Red Moon by @earlybloomingparentheses A breathy, high-pitched moan, and what is happening, it’s 8 a.m. in their kitchen, Remus is making toast, this is only meant to happen when it’s the middle of the night and they’ve just got back from patching up Muggles or putting out magically-set house fires or battling with a Death Eater who failed to Disapparate quickly enough from the scene of the crime, they’re meant to be frantic and desperate and—Sirius shoves down his panic and surges up to bite Remus’ lips, suck his tongue down his throat, and when are they not desperate and frightened these days?

The war is shattering their world into a million pieces, and Sirius and Remus try to hold themselves together.

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

green - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 178

"A bite?" Regulus murmured, hardly looking up from his book, gesturing to the mint-chocolate-chip ice cream James was currently enjoying while spread out on the grounds of Hogwarts.

All eyes turned to the Gryffindor. Sirius, himself, was shocked that Regulus had the nerve to even ask. James was generous to a fault, but he did not share ice cream. He'd almost bitten Sirius's head off in first year when he'd tried to steal a bite out of his bowl at dinner, once.

But even as Remus, Sirius, Peter, Dorcas, Evan, Barty, Pandora, Dorcas, Marlene, and Lily all stared, scared for the fallout, James just willingly passed the green cone over to the other boy, an adoring smile on his face, seemingly oblivious to his audience.

"What the fuck?" Marlene whispered, her back rested against Dorcas's chest and her jaw on the floor.

"Did he just-?" Lily asked quietly, turning to Remus, who was chuckling.

But Sirius just rolled his eyes. "You two are disgusting," he complained, shaking his head to remind Remus to keep playing with his hair.

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

The Other Girl

UH OH

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Prompt 19 - Angel/Demon AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 19, word count 682

After the fall of Eden and the opening of Pandora’s box, when the World began to crumble, an Angel was created for each Demon. It was their job to restore the balance of any ill-doing their Demon committed and try to quell any rebellion of the Demon realm. 

Sirius had travelled the world and back again, over the aeons, following his Demon and the destruction left behind in his wake. It irked him that his Demon, unlike most of the others, seemed to be particularly creative in his wrongdoings. He’d set off a volcano in Pompeii because a street vendor had gotten in his way. He wiped Atlantis off the map without a trace it had ever existed because the king had refused him hospitality. The fall of Rome. The Titanic, World War 1 and World War 2, for that matter. 

Modern government had been a rather nasty one, putting imbeciles in charge of entire nations of humans and watching the utter carnage that followed. 

After that pièce de résistance, the Demon had calmed down. The humans were destroying themselves faster than he could provoke them, so he’d basically retired from his demonic ways and spent his time revelling in the world going to pot. 

Sirius tracked him down to a little village up in Scotland and, for the next few decades, tried to convince the Demon to give being good a go. 

“Come on, Remus, why won’t you even try? You never know you might like it.” Sirius had said as they sipped tea in Remus’s library. “You can’t be all bad. There must be some good in you, at least. I mean, look at all these books,” He waved his hands at the floor-to-ceiling shelves that covered every wall. “You have hundreds of them. You must have absorbed some good from them.” Remus slurped his tea from his cup, making Sirius wince. He placed the teacup down on his saucer and leaned all the way back in his chair. Grasping the armrests with his hands, he smiled genteelly at the Angel. 

“Why don’t you open one and find out?” Remus challenged, his voice dripping with honey. Sirius gingerly reached out and selected a book at random. He let it fall open in his hands and read a few sentences before he snapped it shut, horror colouring his face. 

“It’s smut!” He grabbed another and another down off the shelves. Tossing each aside after he’d read a few words. “They’re all smut!” He exclaimed, still going. “More smut!” He stood back from the shelves and spun on the spot, looking with new eyes on the rows and rows of books. “It’s all smut!” He gasped. Remus snorted, and Sirius turned to face him. 

“Come on, Sirius, try it. I bet you’ll like it.” Remus purred. And for the first time in millennia, the Angel was tempted by the Demon. 

His feet moved him forward of their own accord. He watched as his hand raised and touched the spine of one of the books. His fingers wrapped around it, and he began to remove it from the shelf, but Remus jumped up and yanked him away. 

“No, no. Not that one. Your eyes will melt in their sockets if you read that one. Er, try this.” The Demon reached up, revealing a strip of tanned skin between his knitted jumper and black trousers. Sirius swallowed. What was happening to him? Remus placed a thin paperback book in Sirius’s hand, and they returned to their seats. 

Sirius flipped the book open and began to read. A strange, tingly feeling in his abdomen startled him when he read a description of a man walking across a beach. It almost felt as though butterflies were happily flapping inside his stomach. It wasn’t unpleasant. Sirius could feel that this was the start of something different. He didn’t know what yet, but he was sure it wouldn’t be long before he found out. 

The Demon watched him closely as Sirius devoured the pages, a half smile tugging at his lips as he poured another cup of tea.

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

sum domestic jegulus ☕️☀️

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

Prompt 11 - Coffee Shop Au

@wolfstarmicrofic April 10, word count 464

“Sirius, you do not need more coffee!” James warned his friend. “You’re already vibrating like a hummingbird.” Sirius dodged James’s hand as he tried to grab him and pushed the coffee shop door open. 

He tried to calm himself down. He knew he really didn’t need more caffeine in his system, but the barista enchanted him, and he couldn’t stay away. He joined the queue and tried not to bounce. 

He was next. He could almost feel his skin fizzing, and he didn’t know if it was from anticipation or the heart failure causing amount of coffee pumping through his body. 

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite customer, back again. What can I get for you, Sirius?” Remus beamed at him, a cup with Sirius’s name already on it in his hand. 

“Whatever you have that doesn’t have caffeine in it, and your number before this idiot poisons himself with coffee.” James swooped in behind him and clapped Sirius on the back. They both blushed scarlet. 

“Erm, we have camomile tea,” Remus said shyly. 

“Perfect. One camomile tea for the hummingbird over here.” James paid for Sirius’s drink and manoeuvred him to the other end of the counter. 

It didn’t take long for Sirius’s drink to be ready. Remus set it down and called out his name. Sirius loved how Remus’s gentle Welsh accent lilted when he said his name. James pushed him forward. He felt his face reddening again. 

Remus gave him a quick smile as he pushed the cup towards him. 

“Thank you,” He whispered before he fled the shop. He sipped his scalding tea and noticed the writing on the cup, ‘My Star’, Sirius and his phone number. 

James walked out of the door, grinning, pleased at himself. But before Sirius could chastise him, his phone pinged in his pocket. An unknown number had messaged him. It took him a moment to realise it was the same number as the one on the cup. He opened the message. 

‘Hi, My Star. James just gave me your number, he said, in case you chickened out. And I’m messaging you now so I don’t chicken out. Are you free on Friday? Let me know. Your Remus x.’ Sirius nearly passed out. 

With shaking hands, he typed out a reply. ‘Hi, I guess My Moon because that’s the only thing that shines brighter than the stars. Yes, I am free. Pizza and a movie at mine? Or we can go out if you’re not comfortable with that. OMG, I’m rambling in a text. Either way, let me know. Your Star x.’ He hit send and smiled at his phone as three little dots appeared. ‘Sounds great. I’ll bring the popcorn, Your Moon x.’ 

Sirius bolted home. He had a lot of cleaning to do.

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

Things are happening (AKA I’m making a fic cover)

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

The Magpie Song

Written for @hpanimagiweek for Day 2: Aurors at the door. Lee/Fred, Fred & George, G, 200 words.

~ 🪽~

(Later)

Knock. Knock.

George heard muffled shouting, and then the door was flung open.

“Oh.” Lee’s eyes widened slightly. “How can I help you, Auror Weasley?” His words were awkward — stilted — not like how they used to be in school.

“We’ve had reports of a disturbance nearby. If you see any suspicious activity, please let us know.”

“Right, sure,” Lee assured hastily.

“Use the Floo hotline or —”

A magpie landed on Lee’s shoulder, beady black eyes staring intently, its leg unnaturally bent and bandaged in bloody gauze. He and Fred had a magpie once. It would fly around the yard, wild and free, until one day it never returned. 

“What happened to your bird?”

“Nothing… uhhh... caught in a trap earlier.” Lee gently removed the bird from his shoulder, its intense stare never leaving George’s face. 

As George left, he couldn’t help thinking the bird felt familiar.

~ 🪽~

(Earlier)

“Please, Lee, I have nowhere else to go.” Fred whimpered as Lee checked the bandages. Curse damage — extensive.

“Damnit, I’m no good at Healing. What about George?”

“He cannot know I’m here.” Fred grabbed Lee desperately. “He cannot see me.”

“Why? He’s your brother. He deserves to know you’re alive —”

Knock. Knock.

~ 🪽~

Also read it on AO3

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

harry wouldn't stop the moment he found out about draco's sensitive zones...get ready to be hexed in 3, 2, 1...

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

Prompt 7 - Performer AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 7, word count 985

NSFW

Remus had been dragged along by the guys from his office to the local strip club after they’d gone out for drinks at the bar. 

“Come on, Remus, there’s boys there as well. It’s not just girls.” Peter had said, trying to persuade him. He really didn’t want to go. It wasn’t his thing. But they’d plied him with liquor, and he followed them to the loud venue. 

“Honoured guests,” The announcer called over the speakers as the previous girl walked back behind the shimmering curtain. “Please welcome our next performer. He’s our resident bad boy. He has eyes of steel and abs of granite. He’s a star amongst us, mere mortals. Give it up for Sirius!”

Remus watched as the man he’d gone on a blind date with only last week walked out onto the stage. He hadn’t even used a fake name. 

Remus groaned as he took in the thigh-high black leather boots that hugged Sirius’s legs like a second skin. Remus’s eyes travelled up, landing on the silver glittery skin-tight shorts, with a huge golden star emblazoned on top of the substantial bulge fighting against the shimmering material. He had to drag his eyes away before he started drooling. It didn’t help. Sirius’s top half was barely covered by an open vest. His exposed skin was coated in what Remus guessed was baby oil. 

Then it got worse. Sirius swung himself up onto the pole in the middle of the stage. 

Remus stared with his mouth wide open. Sirius spun around, bending this way and that. He climbed to the top and flipped himself upside down, stretching his legs wide into splits. Remus couldn’t fathom how the shorts kept everything in, but they did. 

It was when Sirius leaned backwards, long hair just brushing the floor, that he spotted Remus. His face lit up, and he winked at him before he grabbed the pole high up again and set himself spinning around it with his legs wide open. 

Soon, the floor couldn’t be seen because of the amount of money that had been thrown at him. Sirius sauntered offstage once his set was done, wiggling his hips so the lights flickered off his glittery shorts. 

A few moments later, a huge bouncer came over and tapped Remus on the shoulder. Remus had no idea what he’d done.

“Mr Black has requested that you meet him in his dressing room.” The bouncer grumbled into his ear. 

“Who?” Remus had never heard of a Mr Black. 

“Sirius,” The bouncer answered with an eye roll. 

“Oh, okay.” Remus stood and followed the hulking man to a locked side door. The bouncer punched in the code and held it open for him. He was directed to the door with a gold star that matched the one on Sirius’s shorts. He knocked. 

“Come in,” A voice called out. Slowly, he opened it. 

“Hi, sorry this big dude told me you wanted to see me,” Remus told him before he’d even shut the door in case Sirius hadn’t actually asked for him. 

Sirius spun around in his chair. He’d taken the vest off and thrown on an oversized black hoodie, long enough to cover his torso and end just above the leather boots, leaving a strip of creamy skin peeking out. 

“Remus!” The smile on his face looked genuine. “You don’t write, you don’t call, but you come and see me waggle my crotch at total strangers?” His smile turned to a cheeky smirk. Remus felt the blood rush to his face. 

“Sorry,” He mumbled shyly. “I got the impression you didn’t want to see me again, so I didn’t message you.” He couldn’t meet Sirius’s eyes. He looked at the paraphernalia on the dressing table. He spotted a bottle of baby oil, so he had been right. 

Sirius’s face dropped. He looked hurt. 

“I don’t know what I did that made you think that, but I’m sorry I did. Honestly, that was the best date I’ve been on in…” He thought for a moment. “Years.” He finished. Remus looked up at him, shocked. 

“Really? You had fun?” He’d turned shy again. He’d really liked Sirius as well. Sirius beamed at him. 

“Yeah, I did. Can’t pretend I wasn’t a little hurt I didn’t hear from you after, but I could have texted you. In fact, I was going to when I got home, but here you are.” He gestured to Remus and the room. “Has all this scared you off?” Sirius asked worried. 

Remus felt himself blushing again, but he shook his head.

“My shift is over for the night if you want to go have that second date? I know a great place that does the most amazing pancakes.” Sirius suggested. 

“What at 2 am?” Remus questioned. 

“Er, no—no, they don’t open for a couple of hours.” He looked crestfallen. Remus felt a sudden stab of bravery. Maybe it was the leftover alcohol, or maybe it was seeing how sad Sirius looked. 

“Do you live nearby?”

“Yeah, about a 5-minute walk away.” Sirius furrowed his brow, questioning. 

“I make a mean pancake if that’s what you want.” 

“Okay, let me get changed, and we’ll go,” Sirius said excitedly as he started looking for his clothes. 

Remus bit his lip when Sirius stretched out his leg to unzip the boots. He held out a hand, stopping him. 

“Could you leave them on?” He asked nervously. Sirius looked up.

“Seriously?” He tried and failed to hide his amusement.

“Sorry, you don’t have to, don’t know why I asked, sorry, ignore me, I’m an idiot.” He wrung his hands together. He peeked up when Sirius didn’t say anything. 

Sirius swung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed Remus’s arm as he led him out of the dressing room. 

“I think you’re going to be a lot of fun, Remus.” He said sweetly as he gently squeezed Remus’s arm.        

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

@jegulus-microfic / march 14: choice / word count: 558

Stab it, strangle it, scoop out its gut, throw it off a cliff... it repeats over and over in his mind. 

Four chains, three double crochet, three chains, repeat four times...

The first few times Pandora tried to teach him how to crochet were a total failure. The wool got tangled, the stitches were either too loose or too tight and picking up the crochet hook was a problem on its own. But since he learned to crochet, Regulus takes his knitting wherever he goes. 

Today in particular, he has taken it upon himself to bring extra balls of wool, as he intends to be productive in the nearly three hours it will take him to travel by train from Liverpool to London to visit his estranged brother after nearly five years. And no, of course Regulus isn't nervous. That he's gripping his crochet needle tighter than necessary and knitting furiously has nothing to do with it. He doesn't even notice when the seat next to him is taken. 

One, two, three... nine double crochets, his hands move skilfully creating new rows.

He has been trying to finish this tote bag for an eternity and... What the hell is that?

There are no mistakes in knitting, only design variations, the voice of his best friend echoes in his head.

Well, clearly Regulus made a mistake several rows back that's making his granny square look more like a rectangle, and there is no way to make it look intentional. With a huff, he has no choice but to start pulling the wool to undo his failed progress.

"No!" an urgent voice protests from his right side, leaving him confused.

Regulus turns his head slowly, scowling and ready for a confrontation, which is quickly forgotten when a pair of warm, honey-brown eyes open wide and stare back at him. Regulus frowns even more deeply.

"I'm sorry! I swear I didn't mean to intrude, but it's just that you were doing something beautiful and you took it apart so fast I couldn't help myself and-" the man continues speaking hurriedly but Regulus is more focused on the way a lone curl of brown hair covers part of his forehead, and his hands itch eagerly to touch it to find out if it's as soft as it looks. 

"Yeah, never mind," is all the answer he gives before resuming his knitting slightly flushed.

Three chains, three double crochets-

"Where did you learn how to do that? I mean, crocheting. It's really cool, you got me hooked, you know what I mean?"

Regulus stares at him for a long moment refusing to let the ridiculous phrase have any effect on him. 

The right corner of his lips betrays him and rises against his will.

"My name is James. Oh, and I need your surname to know-" Regulus merely covers James' mouth with one hand and his own face with the other.

"We'll see about the last name. I'm Regulus, and please stop saying all those embarrassing things."

It's safe to say that Regulus invested his nearly three hour journey very well getting to know this now not-longer-stranger... but once again he didn't finish the bag. 

And well, big is their surprise when they find out that they are going to the same place to see the same person, but that's a different story.

In case you are wondering about the crocheting chant

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

Quick sketch of the Yule ball I did like a week ago because I felt bad for taking so long with the fanart😭

For @lilbeanz

GOOD READ THERE SERIES ITS SO GOODD!

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

It stands to reason that Harry’s holding groceries when he runs into Draco Malfoy for the first time in twenty years.

Well— doesn’t run into, exactly. No, more like peers through a shop window like a right barmy bastard, bits of overspilling lettuce brushing his arm and passers-by on Diagon shooting him strange looks.

Of course Malfoy has to look up from the till— because, yes, Draco Malfoy is a shopkeeper on Diagon Alley apparently— and see him goggling. So, of course, Harry has to step inside, as though he meant to make a stop at— right, yeah, Narcissus Needlework Studio— all along, holding brown paper packages of vegetables.

Malfoy’s frowning when Harry makes his way over to the till.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he says. “I’ve registered the shop, everything’s perfectly within regulation—“

“Trouble?” Harry blinks. “Oh, no. I’m not an Auror. Anymore.”

“I know that,” Malfoy says unhappily. “The whole Wizarding World all over Europe knows that. Only you’ve never left well enough alone, have you, Potter?”

Harry’s forty next month. He’s lived twenty years seeing hide nor hair of Draco Malfoy, and he’s never gone looking. Well, except for that one time when he was twenty one and went to the Manor as a trainee Auror for a— well, it was a routine check, really. And that other time when he was twenty five and thought he saw a man at a club who looked just like Malfoy from the back and was convinced for four months Malfoy was back in London and must be up to something if no one knew about it. And that time when he was thirty two— and, oh, alright, Harry hasn’t ever left well enough alone, not when it comes to Malfoy, at least.

This time, though, Harry really didn’t go looking. And it’s definitely Malfoy.

“I just wanted some— thread,” Harry says. A needlework studio should have some of that, shouldn’t it?

“Thread,” says Malfoy. He looks down, deliberately, at Harry’s lettuce.

“For Molly,” Harry says. “As a, um, birthday present. New shop on Diagon, thought I’d pop by. Seemed the place, you know. Didn’t know it was yours.”

Molly’s birthday, Malfoy doesn’t need to know, is in December. It’s June.

Malfoy continues to stare at him, until Harry’s unsure whether to get indignant about it all or turn tail and flee.

“Well,” says Malfoy before he can make a choice. “Embroidery yarn for you, then, Potter. Come along.”

-

“I’ll see you again, I assume,” Malfoy says at the end of what transpires to be a surprisingly smooth purchase.

Harry nods.

He only realises after he leaves that there’s no reason for him to come back. He’s seen it for himself— what Draco Malfoy’s up to these days. Nothing nefarious or suspicious, just yarn and needles and tapestries on Diagon.

Except, well, he’s committed now, hasn’t he? And Harry Potter’s a man of his word. He said yes, when Malfoy asked— Malfoy asked!— so he’ll be back.

And really, if he has to invent Hermione’s sudden new and passionate interest in needlework— well. That’s between Harry and his lettuce.

written for @drarrymicrofic’s prompt “sewing”. i just personally think harry james potter could be seventy five and still rapidly become obsessed with draco malfoy at any given moment.