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James tugs on the collar of his uncomfortable dress shirt, hating everything. He can’t stand the clothes he’s wearing. He can’t stand the pretentious people he’s currently around. He certainly can’t stand the unnecessarily large and overly fancy room he’s standing in.
In the past, he and his father have ignored the invitations that have fallen into the Potter letterbox. The prestigious Black family holds a soiree every year for all the other upper class families and business leaders in the area, and even though the Blacks and the other pompous families don’t particularly like the Potters, they have an obligation to invite them.
PotterMed Industries is the leading manufacturer of affordable medication, and the company’s charitable efforts to provide medication for people who couldn’t afford it means that they’re held in high esteem.
However, despite the Black family annually sending out an invitation every year since before James was born, the Potters never attend the soiree. Fleamont doesn’t approve of the bank firm that the Blacks own and the way they flaunt their wealth, and he dislikes a lot more of the other families that attend — the Malfoys, the Lestranges, and the Notts, to name a few.
It’s something of a running joke to the Potters.
So, why does James find himself standing in the middle of the soiree now, with other attendees eyeing him suspiciously? There’s only one reason. His boyfriend.
Regulus Black stands across from him, peering at James with his dark eyes over the rim of his champagne glass. He looks immaculate and effortless in his black suit and open collared navy shirt, like he does this kind of thing every day.
Which he does.
James hates that he has to stand across from Regulus. He wants to be beside him, an arm looped around his slender waist, laughing and drinking and showing everyone else in the room that they belong to each other.
But they can’t. No one knows that they’re together yet. It’s only been a few months, and Regulus is is mindful of the bomb that will drop when his mother and father find out. Walburga and Orion Black are still recovering from their oldest son, Sirius Black, abandoning his inheritance and familial responsibilities to move in with his boyfriend, Remus.
It’s because of Sirius that James knows Regulus at all. Sirius is his best friend, and it was actually his idea that James went to the soiree. He’s one of the few people that actually know about James and Regulus being together, and while he initially was apprehensive about James “deflowering my baby brother”, it eventually grew on him.
Especially when he realised how much it would torment his parents to know that Regulus is also going to pass on marrying a nice upper class girl and make nice upper class babies with her and carry on the family line.
James is startled from his thoughts by the sound of a snort of laughter. He looks over at Regulus again, and sees that his friend is standing with him now, whispering something into his ear and causing Regulus to snigger. James can’t help the twist of jealousy in his stomach. He wants to be over there, making Regulus laugh and enjoying his company.
He realises that he hates Regulus’s friend — Barty Crouch, standing there with his hand on Regulus’s arm and flicking his sandy hair out of his honey-brown eyes. Barty is allowed to touch Regulus openly because they’ve been friends for years. No one bats an eyelid.
Barty continues to whisper to Regulus, and James is aware of how close his lips are to the soft shell of Regulus’s ear. His stomach aches resentfully. He wants to march over there and rip Barty’s lips off his stupid face.
“Are you okay, sir?” a voice distracts James, and he notices that a smartly dressed waiter is standing in front of him, holding out a silver tray of tall glasses. “Can I offer you some more champagne?”
“Oh — er —” James is still nursing the first glass he had been given. “No, I’m okay. Thanks.” The waiter moves along, allowing James to continue staring longingly at Regulus, hoping his desperation isn’t shining through too much.
Barty is still talking to Regulus, but he’s stepping away, distracted by something that someone else is saying to him. Regulus nods along with the conversation, then turns his gaze back on James. Barty walks away, and James follows him with his eyes as he wanders over to the stairs and disappears to the second floor.
There’s only one thing that can mean — Barty is scoping a bedroom or something out with the hopes that Regulus is going to follow him. James knows all of those tricks. When he looks back to where Regulus had been standing, he realises he’s vanished.
James isn’t about to let that rodent seduce his boyfriend. He puts his champagne glass down on a nearby end table and storms towards the stairs.
There are too many rooms in this hellish house, James quickly realises. He pushes open what seems like dozens of doors to multiple bathrooms, bedrooms, lounges, and even a library. Eventually he hears giggling behind a door, and he pushes his way into some kind of storage cupboard.
Barty has his back to James, so he can only see the back of his fair head, and he’s leaning up against the wall — at least, James thinks it’s the wall, but there’s a pair of pale hands resting at the small of Barty’s back.
“What the —” James sees red, and he reaches out to grab Barty’s shoulder and yank him away. Barty splutters, and the man in front of him squeaks in shock.
“Potter?” Barty snaps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What do you think you are doing?”
The man who was standing behind Barty shrunk into the corner, clearly mortified by the interruption. James furrows his brow — it’s not Regulus, as he’d been expecting. The man is short, with a head full of strawberry-blond hair and freckles all over his nose and cheeks.
“Oh — shit — I’m sorry,” he mutters, backing out of the closet.
“James?”
James spins around, and Regulus is standing in the corridor, arms folded and a small smirk playing on his face. “Reg. Hi.”
“What’s going on in there?” Regulus tilts his head to peek into the closet, and a single eyebrow shoots up into his fringe. “Ah, I see. Ménage à trois?”
“Shut up,” Barty grumbles, pulling the closet door shut.
“I have no idea what that means,” James admits.
“What are you doing up here? Why are you following my friend around while he’s trying to get off with Evan Rosier?”
“I…I…” James wrings his hands in front of him. “I thought he was sneaking up here to get off with you.”
Regulus is silent for a fraction of a moment while he stares at James, and then he bursts into peals of laughter. “Are you serious? I’ve been friends with Barty since we were toddlers. And I know where he’s been — I wouldn’t touch him with a bargepole.”
“I can still hear you,” Barty’s muffled voice comes from the closet.
“Come on,” Regulus drags James down the corridor by the arm. “Were you jealous? Of Barty?”
James bites his lip. “A little,” he replies. “He was getting to touch you, and talk to you, and make you laugh.”
Regulus stops outside a door with a gilded plate hanging on the wood, reading R.A.B. He turns to face James, and hooks his fingers into the waistband of his trousers. “Yeah,” he says. “But Barty doesn’t get to take me to bed, does he?”
James’s breath hitches in his throat. “Do I?”
Regulus grins and pushes open the door to his bedroom. “Why do you think I wanted you to come to this soiree so bad?” He slinks into the room and James follows.
“And here I thought you just wanted to see me in a tux.”
“Well, that’s a nice bonus too,” Regulus snickers, locking the door behind them.