Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

James has always dreamed about having a big family and being a father. Unfortunately, he was never lucky enough to meet the right person to settle down with. His friends told him he was young and could still find someone, but with each passing year and each attended wedding, his hope dwindled.

When he was 27, his friends Lily and Pandora approached him with a request.

They wanted to start a family. They tried to adopt for a few years but with no luck. So, they had the brilliant idea of getting a donor. After many conversations and flipping through donor catalogues, they changed their minds again. They didn’t want to have a child that was half them and half a stranger. Lily argued that it would feel weird not to know whose genetic material would be inside of her for nine months. Maybe it was the right choice for other women, not for her. They agreed on one man as a suitable donor. He would make beautiful, intelligent, and athletic children, and they knew him inside and out and what to expect of a child from him: James.

At first, James was hesitant. He wanted to help his friends out. He would do anything for them. But not being a dad to his children? Seeing them all the time and being nothing but the "uncle" or, worse, "donor"?

The women approached him a week later and said, “We should have considered you wanted this from the start. We talked about it, and if you are interested, we would like you to be the dad—the actual dad. We could raise the child together. Not fifty-fifty, but we can easily come up with an arrangement of them spending every other weekend or maybe one week a month at your place, and you are always welcome in our house.”

Of course, James agreed – he could help his friends and become a dad? There was no hesitation. His girlfriend at the time found the idea less than spectacular and promptly broke up with him. She wasn’t the One, anyway. Yes, James believed in The One. He still did today, although people kept saying he was getting too old for such ideas.

Lily and Pandora each gave an egg, which was fertilised in vitro and then planted into Lily’s uterus so she could carry them both, making the children “half-twins", as they called them. James moved onto the women’s couch to help out with the newborns, giving the mothers as many breaks as possible.

He spent all the holidays with the little family. He lived with them until the children were one year old. Then, they spent a few days a week at his place. When they started school, they agreed to spend every other weekend at James’s place. Lily and Pandora were the primary caregivers, and James stayed within their boundaries and never forgot his role. There was never a fight about anything. The children simply had an extra parent with James and an extra set of grandparents with Monty and Effie.

Now, James was 35, and the children were 7.

One was a girl named Luna, with Pandora’s gold-blond hair and James’s warm brown eyes. The other was a boy who looked like a copy of James, except for Lily’s eyes. His name was Harry. Whenever someone pointed out that Harry looked exactly like James, Lily sighed and said, “This is why I didn’t want an anonymous donor. Imagine carrying a child for nine months, and he has the nerve to end up looking like a total stranger. “

A while ago, Luna declared that she wanted to dance ballet. She was currently obsessed with everything ballet. At this point, even James knew “Barbie in the 12 Dancing Princesses” by heart.

The thing with the twins was that Luna only did things if Harry joined her, and Harry wanted to do everything that Luna did.

So, they signed them up for ballet classes.

This led to James getting a phone call from Lily one Wednesday afternoon.

“James, you are home right now, right?”

“Yes.”

“And are you very busy?” She sounded stressed.

James had played professional football since he was a teenager. People who liked football knew his name, but he wasn’t exactly Beckham or Harry Kane. Now, he was slowly ageing out of the active player years and starting to get into coaching. He wasn’t busy on Wednesday afternoons.

“No. Is everything alright?”

“Uhm, yes. I mean, there is no emergency. I’m just stuck at work, and so is Pandora, and neither of us can get off and pick up the children.”

“Ah, of course, I can do that.”

“Thank God! But they have ballet today. Can you take them to ballet class? Please. It’s such an exclusive place; they might get kicked out if they miss classes too often!”

“What? Where are you sending them? The Oxford of Ballet school?”

“Uhm, kind of? You gave us a blank cheque and said, ‘Send them to the best place you can find, but please don’t make me watch that movie again.’ Remember? So, we sent them to the best place we found - well, the best that offers these children’s classes. Anyway, can you please take them?”

“Of course. Just text me the address and the time I need to be there. Do they have their dance stuff with them, or do I need to make a stop at your place?”

“No, they have everything. I’ll text you in a second. It’s on the second floor. You have to sign in at the front desk.”

“Front desk? How much are we spending on this?”

“James. Are you having money trouble?”

“Not at all. Only the best for our babies, of course. But she might lose interest-“

“And she might not. I have to go. Thank you for doing this. You’re invited to dinner later. Bye.”

“Bye.”

An hour later, James picked up the twins from school. Harry was holding his sports bag by the strings and swinging it around in wide circles, much to his sister’s annoyance.

“Harry, stop it!” Luna complained. “Dad, Harry is trying to hit me!”

“No, I’m not! I’m just playing!”

James took the bag away from him. “Why don’t I carry this for you, huh? Then you can’t hit your sister even by accident. Now, hop in the car.”

As he began the short drive to ballet school, he asked, “So, are you excited for ballet class?”

“Yes!” Luna exclaimed. Harry seemed a little bit less enthusiastic.

“You only like it because you have a crush on Missu Regulus.”

“It’s pronounced Mi-ssi-eu! And I don’t have a crush.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Hey, no fighting,” James grinned. “Harry, don’t annoy your sister. Is Monsieur Regulus a nice teacher?”

“No,” Harry grumbled.

“He’s awesome,” Luna insisted.

James let them discuss the topic among themselves and drove them to the ballet school.

The dance studio was in an old, multi-story red-brick building with high ceilings.

The guy at the front desk asked them where they wanted to go and searched for the names of Harry and Luna Evans-Lovegood on a sheet. He directed them towards the stairs.

“What kind of elite place did your mothers send you to?” James mumbled as they passed aesthetic photographs of ballet dancers.

Luna grabbed her father’s hand and steadily pulled him to the changing rooms. There was only one other boy in the ballet group. He was around the same age as Harry and Luna. He had white-blond hair and was sitting on a bench, playing on his phone.

The children changed into their outfits on their own. James was a little lost when Luna asked him to put her hair into a bun. He did his best.

He quickly noticed that he was the only father here. When they entered the actual dance studio, and he had to take a seat on a bench with all the mothers, he also noticed that he was about twice their size. He felt terrible for all the space he took up and tried not to “manspread” – a habit he had never been aware of until he spent a considerable amount of time on Lily’s and Pandora’s couch.

James had done sports for as long as he could remember. Football, Basketball, Hockey, Boxing – he spent more time on a pitch, court or ring than at school – much to his father’s dismay. He was a professor of chemistry, and while he was supportive of James’s hobbies, he had always mourned the fact that they had so little in common. James’s physique was very telling. He was tall (although he rarely considered himself ‘tall’ because his best friends, Remus and Sirius, had always been taller than him) and broad. He has been called “beefy” before, but hated that word. Personally, in the context of his teammates, he didn’t think of himself as extraordinarily muscular or “beefy”, but next to the petite women, he felt weirdly bulky.

He smiled nervously at the mums and turned away to search for the twins in the crowd of pink costumes. A blond man sat at the piano. Another man sat on a bench behind him, so James could barely see him. The children spotted him right away, ran to him, and shook his hand one after the other when they came in - all but the little blond boy, already sitting on the ground stretching while the other children were chatting and running around.

The man finally stood up and clapped his hands. “Children, be quiet and make a circle, please.” He said and placed a board with a list of names on the piano. He spoke with a slight French accent. “Draco, that includes you.”

The blond boy sighed and joined the other children in the circle. They did stretching exercises for several minutes. James quickly lost sight of his children and became glued to the teacher’s every move.

Monsieur Regulus’s face bore the refined contours of a sculpted masterpiece, with high cheekbones that lent an air of regality to his presence. A dusting of subtle freckles adorned his porcelain skin like constellations in the vast expanse of a moonlit night.

Yet, the rich black cascade of his hair truly captured James’s attention. Monsieur Regulus’s curls framed his face with an almost otherworldly allure. The waves were meticulously styled yet appeared effortless.

The women next to James began to whisper.

“He looks so dreamy again today.”

“I cancelled my nail appointment just to be here and see him. Pansy believes I like watching her stand on one leg for an hour.” 

“I tell you, my daughter is never allowed to lose interest in this sport.”

The ballet teacher didn’t even look in their direction for most of the lesson, which didn’t stop anyone on the small bench from adoring him.

James got the impression that Monsieur Regulus was more used to older students, or he just didn’t bother treating the children with much leniency. The blond man at the piano played soft notes for them while the children did balance exercises and small figures while holding on to a wooden bar in front of a mirror. James didn’t understand much of it—well, none of it. Luna seemed to have fun.

At one point, Luna spun too hard, and her hair came loose.

“Luna,” Monsieur Regulus called her. “Pick up your hair tie and redo your bun. You can’t dance if you can’t see.”

Luna dove for her hair tie and ran back to James. “Daddy, quick, you need to put it back up!”

James took the tiny hair tie and tried to bring the long golden hair into one concise shape. He could feel the women’s judging eyes on him.

Luna ran off as soon as James finished his project. She ran past the teacher, who called out to her in a tired voice. He inspected her head and promptly pulled the hair tie out again. It obviously wasn’t very secure since it took him no effort at all. With an exasperated look towards James, he grabbed Luna’s hair, twisted it and quickly pulled it into a tight bun. “I am a teacher, not a hairdresser. Now, back to position.”

James wished he were just a little smaller all around so he could hide among the other parents.

Towards the end of the lesson, they did more stretches to cool down.

Harry and Luna ran to James, who handed them their water bottles.

“You did a great job,” he praised them. He didn’t know whether they actually did a great job, but he was convinced they always did things perfectly. “Let’s get dressed, and I’ll drive you home.”

“Psst, daddy,” Luna whispered to him when she finished changing. “Monsieur Regulus said, you should learn how to do my hair, or you’re not allowed to sit in anymore.”

“I think I did a good job.”

Luna put her hands on her hips and looked at him in a way James only knew from Lily when she said, “Do you think so? Do you really?”

“You’re growing up too fast, young Lady. Harry, do you have all your stuff?”

Harry held up his bag, and James took the children by their hands and went outside to the car.

***

Lily and Pandora had the best kitchen. James couldn’t use half of the appliances here, but he always got a glass of wine and felt perfectly at home. He considered himself a good cook, but most of the things here were for baking or making pasta and other things, which he never did.

“Open this,” Pandora said, holding a glass to him. “Thanks.” She danced away and returned to the stove.

“So, how was ballet?” Lily asked. “Stand here, watch the pasta.”

James watched the pasta. “It was fine, I think. The teacher hates me.”

“What? Monsieur Regulus? Why? What happened?”

“Luna’s bun came lose. I redid it, but he was so dissatisfied with it that he redid it himself.”

The women shared a look and inhaled sharply, releasing an “Ohh” in perfect synchronicity. Married people were so odd sometimes. James wanted this, too.

“Apparently, I’m not allowed to sit in class if I don’t learn how to do her hair.”

Lily leaned toward Pandora. “Do you think we can teach him?”

“I don’t know. Look at his hands. It’s a lost cause.”

“I won’t give up. Maybe he can practice on Luna’s dolls? Or on Sirius?”

James rolled his eyes. “Come on, it can’t be so hard, right? I’ll watch a video, and it should be fine.”

Lily shook her head. “Come over here, mix the salat.”

James switched places with her.

“We’ve been thinking, maybe you could always take the twins to ballet from now on,” Luna said. “Of course, you’re always invited to dinner afterwards.”

James remembered the teacher’s side profile, which he had been staring at for an hour. “That sounds lovely, actually.”

The women shared another look. James sighed deeply.

“So, apart from the hair incident, what do you think of the teacher?” Lily asked.

“He seems… passionate. A little strict.”

“He’s a ballet teacher, James. He has to be strict.”

“I guess.”

“And he’s so attractive, isn’t he?”

“God, not you, too,” James groaned. “All those mothers were gushing over him for an hour.”

“Yes, they’re awful. But that is not the point. Do you think he’s attractive?” 

“I mean… yes. He’s…” he exhaled deeply. “very handsome.”

“Uh-huh, did you know he is single?”

James looked up at her. She smiled back.

“No… how do you know that?”

“I googled him.”

“And then she asked,” Pandora said. “Harry said it was unbearably awkward.”

“You asked the kids’ teacher whether he was single in front of them?”

“I was far more subtle than that sounds. I asked whether he was comfortable with us parents sitting on that bench when some of them had such an obvious crush on him. Then I asked whether his partner was jealous of all those women gushing over him. I mentioned my wife, of course, so that he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. He said he didn’t have a partner, but if he did, he would know not to be deterred by such a thing.”

“My wife: Detective Evans.” Pandora kissed her cheek.

James grinned. “I’m on Harry’s side: It was probably really awkward.”

“What was I supposed to do? Google only supplied me with rumours.”

“Wait, you can actually google the man?”

“Yes. Of course. He is a professional ballet dancer. You can google those like all athletes. What do you think why his lessons are so exclusive?”

He shrugged.

Lily beamed at him, as always, when she could discuss a research topic. “Well, he was born in France, and his mother used to be a ballerina. Nothing is really known about the father other than he is rich and dead. There also seems to have been an older brother, but I found literally nothing about it-“

“I have a theory on it, but Lily called it crazy,” Pandora interrupted.

“Whatever. So, Monsieur Regulus was always pushed toward dancing, attended the Paris Opera Ballet School and was then admitted to the Paris Opera Ballet. Think, French Version of the Royal Ballet or Bolshoi.”

James looked into the salad, confused. “So, he is a big deal. What on earth is he doing in London, teaching primary school kids?”

“I’m getting to that. So, from what I could find out with Google Translate, a few years ago, he was injured. On Stage. This man was so big, all the papers said he would be the youngest ever appointed Star Dancer.”

“Star Dancer?”

“I have no idea what it means either, but it seems like a pretty big deal. It’s the highest rank within the opera, I think—like a prima ballerina. Anyway, it never happened because of the injury.”

“Was it so bad? I didn’t think he had any trouble walking.”

Lily strained the pasta. “Well, walking and that level of ballet are worlds apart. They’re not even in the same universe.”

“But doesn’t he still dance?” Pandora asked and began to take the plates out of the cupboards. “I saw posters advertising his new production with him as the lead at the school.”

Lily shrugged. “All I know is that he had to leave the company after the injury. He tried to join the Royal Ballet in London then but didn’t make it. So, instead, he opened up the school.”

“That’s tragic,” James mumbled, placing the salad on the dining table.

“Yes, yes, very,” Lily agreed. “But he’s good-looking, single, and you’re about to see him every Wednesday. Come on, Mr Optimism, you must see how this is a good thing.”

“Okay… I will definitely take the kids to ballet class from now on – if only to stop you from saying to the man it’s a blessing that he had a career-ending injury.”

Lily grinned and winked at her wife.

***

James worked hard to learn how to secure his daughter’s hair before next Wednesday rolled around. Evidently, Pandora didn’t want James to worsen his impression on Monsieur Regulus anymore, so she kindly tucked Luna’s hair into a bun this morning.

Every Wednesday was the same procedure. The children greeted the teacher, who put a note on a list. They did warm-ups and stretches, figures, small choreographies, some sort of free-dancing segment, which always put a deep frown on Regulus’s opera-trained face, and finally, more stretches for the cool down. The mothers constantly gossiped and gushed about Regulus. It wasn’t all of them, but two in particular were down bad for the man.

“They’re awful,” Lily agreed one Wednesday evening. “The mums of Pansy and Daphne.”

“They did ballet as children,” Pandora supplied. “I thought they were nice.”

“You think that of everybody, Love.”

“No. I always got weird vibes from Mads Mikkelson.”

“Pandora, I love you, but you are insane.”

“He just has such a Serial Killer face.”

Lily shook her head. “Anyway, the mothers. You always have to remember that the teacher used to be the promising ballet dancer of France. His lessons are expensive and exclusive. There aren’t many reasons why parents would send their primary school kids to him of all people. They have plans for those children, and they are like harpies. They’d do anything to secure their children’s careers – including the teacher.”

“I don’t think so. They just think he is attractive. Maybe they’re lonely.”

James then questioned why they were sending their children to Regulus, of all people. Lily replied, “Because we love our children, and you’re rich,” kissing his cheek.

An incident happened a few weeks after James first brought them to the ballet school.

Harry greeted him that day by saying, “I don’t want to go to ballet!” James tried to explain that they might be kicked out permanently if he missed ballet, to which Harry cheered, and Luna cried.

Harry fought the entire trip to the school and up the stairs. “I hate ballet,” he grumbled when he changed.

“Harry, hey, we can talk about this with your mums tonight. Okay? For now, you have to participate. …How about this: If you behave, I will buy you Ice Cream afterwards. Okay? Please, participate, for me, for mummy.”

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest and stomped his little foot, but agreed.

It took about thirty minutes until Harry, who was in a bad mood and didn’t concentrate, made so many mistakes that Monsieur Regulus had to mildly scold him and tell him that if he couldn’t focus, he should sit down for a few minutes. The white-blond boy laughed gleefully at this, which turned out to be Harry’s breaking point.

“Shut up, you dumb ferret! I hate you!” Harry yelled at the boy.

“Hey,” Monsieur Regulus exclaimed and clapped his hands. “The only one who yells in here is me. Go sit down. And Draco, be quiet.”

“You can’t yell at me!” Harry shouted at the teacher. “I hate you! I hate you and your stupid ballet! You can’t tell me what to do, or you’ll have beef with my dad, and he will beat you up!”

James quickly got up and crossed the studio. He picked Harry up. Regulus looked at him with enough anger to dismiss the entire class over this.

“Terribly sorry. Don’t listen to him. He’s in a bad mood. We’ll just-“

“Out.”

“Yes, of course. Come, Harry. Luna, we’ll wait in the changing room.” He left the studio with the grumpy seven-year-old on his arm and took him to the other room to change.

“Well, no ice cream for you, young man.”

“But, dad-“

“No. You screamed at your teacher. What has got into you? You can’t behave like this. He offered you to take a break. You could have done that if you didn’t want to dance anymore.”

“I said I don’t want to go to ballet today!”

“Hey, don’t yell at me, too, Harry.” He knelt down in front of the bench. “This is a very exclusive school. If you want to stop permanently, you’ll have to tell your mothers. But you can’t just decide not to go one day and expect to be let back in next week.”

Harry crossed his arms and turned away from him.

“Okay, buddy. Change and drink some water, yeah?”

After the lesson ended, Luna wouldn’t even look at Harry. She changed into her regular clothes and aggressively pushed her ballet things into her bag.

James slipped back into the dance studio. Regulus stood leaning against the piano, talking to the blond man.

James cleared his throat to get his attention.

Regulus turned and looked at him with one raised eyebrow. “What? Do I have beef with you now?”

“What? No. No, of course not.”

“Good. I could snap your neck with my legs like that.” He snapped his fingers. James flinched instinctively. The piano man pushed down a key to emphasise the threat.

“Okay… I will make sure not to get my neck between your legs when you’re angry.”

The eyebrow rose even higher with a musical comment from the piano.

“That didn’t sound right. I meant, I mean – I wanted to apologise for Harry’s behaviour.”

The pianist dug his fingers into the keys for two doomed notes.

“Evan,” Regulus said, annoyed, “why don’t you take a break and snog Barty or something?”

The pianist sighed and stood up. “I’m never allowed to have any fun.”

“What I actually wanted to ask,” James said when the door closed behind him, “was whether Harry is allowed to come back next week.”

“Mr… Evans, is it?”

“Potter. They don’t have my name. I’m just the Weekend-Wednesday dad. It’s complicated-“

“I don’t care.”

“Of course, you don’t. Sorry.”

“Mr Potter, if I only wanted to teach perfect little creatures who never have a meltdown in front of me, I would have started a school for Guinea Pigs instead of teaching one of the most taxing and technically difficult sports in the world to primary school children.”

James looked thoughtfully at their reflection in the high mirrors. “What would you even teach a Guinea Pig?”

“Flamenco, obviously.”

James looked back at him with wide eyes. Regulus looked at him with perfect neutrality. He grinned, “Did you just joke? You know how to do that?”

The corner of Regulus’s mouth twitched. James suddenly had the desperate wish to make him laugh just to see how it would change the man’s perfect face.

“If Harry wants to come back next week, he can. But if he doesn’t, I have a waiting list. Simple as that.”

“I understand. Thank you. Thank you so much. Till next Wednesday. Good night.”

“Au Revoir,” Regulus nodded, and James almost stumbled over his own feet for no specific reason.

When James and the children left the building, he saw the pianist sitting on the front desk, holding the receptionist’s chin in his hand and smirking down at him.

***

The next situation occurred two weeks later. Harry has been attending class without issue. They agreed that Harry would go to ballet class for another month, and if he still wanted to quit, he could. Luna cried about it, thinking she would have to stop, too. Of course, she wouldn’t.

By the end of today’s lesson, Monsieur Regulus handed out purple sheets of paper. “These are the info sheets for our biannual recital. Next week, I want these back with a signature from your parents on whether you are allowed to participate. If you do not receive a sheet from me now, it means you are not allowed to participate. If I don’t get the signed sheet back next week, it means you are not allowed to participate. We will assign roles next Wednesday and start working on the choreography – that means I am not joking with this deadline.”

Most of the children received a purple sheet. Harry didn’t.

In the changing room, one of the girls who didn’t get a sheet started crying quietly.

“Dad, why can’t I be part of the recital?” Harry asked quietly while James read the info sheet Luna handed him. She seemed two inches taller by pride alone.

“Oh, Harry, don’t be too broken up about it, okay? Look, every play or dance recital has a set number of roles - like players in a football team. When you can only have 11 players on the pitch but have 14 on the team, you can’t make up three new positions on the fly to make them feel included. What happens to the other three?”

“They’re bench players?”

“Exactly. You’re a bench dancer for the recital.”

The blond boy from their group, Draco, scoffed. “It’s called an understudy, not a bench dancer. And the understudies also got sheets because their parents still need to agree. You’re just not good enough to be part of the recital.”

James looked down at the child. “That wasn’t very nice to say. You can’t know why your teacher decides the way he does. Now, move along.”

Sending him away now made no difference. Harry’s eyes were already welling up with tears.

“Oh, no, don’t listen to him, little man,” James said gently and hugged his son. “You’re doing so great.”

“Do you even want to be in the recital? You said you don’t like dancing,” Luna reminded him.

Harry shrugged helplessly as thick tears ran down his cheek.

“Daddy, can’t you ask Monsieur Regulus to give him a paper?”

“No, Luna. If your teacher makes a decision, I can’t just go and ask to change his mind. Imagine every parent would do that.”

“But you can ask why Harry can’t be part of it! Maybe you were right, and it’s because there are no more roles.”

Harry looked up at him with big green eyes.

James sighed deeply. “Okay. Fine. I go and ask him. But you know that it won’t change anything about you being in the recital. Wait in the hallway.”

James really didn’t want to annoy Regulus. There were many possible reasons why Harry couldn’t be part of the recital. …Well, James could at least make sure that it was nothing personal by talking to him about it.

He quietly went back into the studio. Regulus was standing at the piano, writing something down on a piece of paper. Draco sat on the bench where the teacher kept his things and played on his phone. Did the boy have another class now?

“Sorry, Monsieur Regulus?”

“Yes?” He didn’t even turn around.

“I wanted to talk to you about the recital thing.”

The man stopped writing. He set the pen down and sighed, long and deep. He turned to James. “Mr Potter, if I were swayed to give children parts in the recital just because their parents ask me for it, I wouldn’t bother with the info sheets. The answer is: No, Harry will not be part of the recital.”

“Yes, I understood that. I was not about to ask you to let him participate. I understand that choosing your dancers is your task alone. I coach a team myself; I know what it’s like to choose the right people for a game.”

He gave him a slow look up and down his body. “Coach?”

“Yes, football.”

Again, up and down. “American or Real Football?”

“Real football.”

His eyes stopped at his biceps. He frowned, then shrugged. “What did you want to speak about, then?”

“I just need something to put the kid’s mind at ease. Can you tell me why you didn’t choose him? Is it because there’s only one male role in the recital, and it’s going to Draco?”

“No. This is kid’s ballet, Mr Potter. Gender is rather irrelevant for our recitals for now.”

“Then why?”

Regulus sighed. “You spoke of teams and football. Let’s view the group as a team, too, and the recital is the big game. You would only put the players on the field you know the other team members can rely on, wouldn’t you?”

He was right. “Are you calling my son unreliable?”

“Harry doesn’t want to dance, Mr Potter.”

“Oh, come on, he had one bad day.”

“I’ve been dancing ballet since I learned to walk, Mr Potter. I can spot talent and enthusiasm from a mile away. Harry doesn’t like dancing, at least not ballet. I can’t have him be part of the ‘team’ and fear that he will drop out any week. If the child doesn’t want to dance, you can’t force him. I’m not saying anyone in your family has bad intentions about sending him here, but I think it would be best if he stopped. If you force a child to do a sport against their will, they will only grow to resent the sport and you. Isn’t that right, Draco?”

“Yes, Uncle Regulus,” the blond boy said distractedly.

“Good boy. I keep a doughnut in my office. You can have it if you promise not to tell your mum. I’ll drive you home later.”

“Yippie,” he rolled his eyes and left the room.

“See? Talent, no enthusiasm.”

“I always thought he enjoyed ballet. He’s your nephew?”

“First cousin once removed. He used to love dancing,” Regulus shrugged. “Then his parents started to demand too much of him.”

The boy was hardly eight, James thought, bewildered. “You don’t think we’re demanding too much of Harry, do you?”

“That depends. Are you currently forcing him to come here just because his sister wants to do ballet? That is a waste of my time, your son’s time, a spot in my school, and not to mention your money.”

“How much am I paying you?”

Regulus smiled with one corner of his mouth. “Enough to bribe three other schools to let Harry participate in their recitals without any training.”

The doors to the studio opened and closed again as older students started to pour in.

“Now, if that is all, I have another class starting in a few minutes.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Monsieur Regulus. I mean it, thanks for the talk.”

“I would say, ‘Anytime’, but I’m afraid you’d take it literally.”

James grinned and waved to him before leaving the room and finding his kids.

When he got to Lily and Pandora’s place, he repeated what Regulus had said about Harry. After a long conversation over dinner, they signed Luna’s permission form for the recital and agreed that Harry should quit ballet. Instead, he had two months to think of another sport he really wanted to do.

***

James kept taking Luna to ballet. Another kid quickly filled Harry’s spot.

Two children forgot to bring the purple sheets back to class and were thus not allowed to participate in the recital. They cried. Regulus said their parent’s inattention wasn’t his problem.

Two weeks later, James took Luna back home to her mothers. He was helping prepare dinner when suddenly Luna and Harry ran to them, yelling. Luna’s little face was red and puffy, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Pandora dropped to her knees and hugged her daughter to her chest. “Darling, what happened? Are you okay?”

“She said I stole her necklace, but I didn’t!” Harry complained.

“It’s gone!” Luna cried into Pandora’s shoulder. “My butterfly necklace is gone! The one Grammy gave me!”

“I didn’t take it!” Harry defended himself. Pandora pulled him in, too.

“Oh, I know, baby. Luna, where have you last seen it?”

“I don’t know!”

Lily knelt down by them. “Sweetheart, did you still have it when you left school?”

“I don’t know!”

“Yes, you did,” James remembered. “You still had it at ballet. You didn’t take it off in the changing room, and Monsieur Regulus told you to take it off when he noticed it during the lesson. You gave it to... me.”

Four pairs of eyes were immediately on him, growing increasingly accusatory when James patted down his pockets.

“We must have forgotten it there...”

“We, James? Really?”

“It’s her necklace. She is old enough to- “

Luna’s sob interrupted him.

“Okay. It’s my fault. I’m sorry, Sweetheart. Look, how about tomorrow afternoon I swing by the ballet school and get it for you?”

“No! I will not go to bed until you find it! Mummy, I won’t go to bed until I know where it is!”

Lily and Pandora looked at him intently.

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll go to the school right now and ask whether they found it. Okay?”

A few minutes later, he sat in his car while the family set the table for a nice dinner. Great.

The necklace was given to Luna by Lily’s mother, who recently passed away. Of course, the girl was very attached to the thing. He should have kept it safe, but Regulus was entirely too distracting today. His shirt was tighter than usual, and the parents’ bench was more packed, too.

When James thought about ballet dancers, he pictured light and delicate bodies, fairy-like people, or the dolls from Luna’s movies.

That wasn’t Regulus. He was an athlete. His arms were toned, and his biceps bulged slightly out of his sleeves because he had a habit of standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest. The shirt clung to his muscular back and small waist.

He remembered all that in great detail, but not where the hell he put Luna’s necklace. – Was he a bad father?

When he arrived at the school, the lights were still on. He quickly jumped out of the car and hastened to the front desk.

“Yes?” The receptionist asked, annoyed. He wasn’t in a great mood during regular hours, much less now. The pianist sat on his desk and was evidently just about to say some nice things into his ear.

“Hi, sorry. You know me, right? My daughter has ballet lessons every Wednesday. Her brother used to, too, but we decided-“

“What do you want?”

“Right, sorry. My daughter lost her necklace here. Can I look for it in the dancing room?”

The receptionist looked at the clock on his phone. “You can try. Regulus should be through with the last class soon.”

“Thank you. I’ll be quick,” He promised, but the man had already lost interest.

James ran up the stairs to the dance studio. He heard loud music playing from a recording. James would just slip inside, go to the parent bench and look for the necklace. There would surely be some other parents there, and he wouldn’t look too out of place.

Wrong.

James quietly opened the door and quickly realised that Regulus didn’t only teach children. There were boys and girls in their late teens dancing around the room.

Regulus stood in the front doing a small choreo with them. The students followed in perfect copy – well, not perfect. They couldn’t match Regulus’s clean lines and effortlessness.

Regulus danced.

James couldn’t look away.

He was breathless about Regulus’s back before? This might be James’s second bisexual awakening.

Regulus habitually wore dark gym trousers to teach the children, always cuffed at his ankles so he could show them dance steps.

For dancing, he wore tights, which hugged and highlighted every curve of his body. His legs were even more toned than his arms. An anatomy study couldn’t be any more perfect. Despite his muscles, he moved in a way that made him look weightless and delicate.

James’s attention didn’t remain on the legs for long. The fabric hugged his arse, accenting the shape and roundness of it. James’s brain regressed instantly, turning him into a 17-year-old.

Regulus was yelling words James didn’t understand. He assumed they were dance steps the others were to do.

After less than a minute, James got to stare at that arse, Regulus spotted him through the mirror.

He turned to him, glaring, and yelled. “Out, Mr Potter.”

James flinched and quickly ducked out of the room.

He pressed himself against a wall so he wouldn’t be visible through the window in the door. He waited. Ten minutes, fifteen. He barely noticed the time passing as his brain was still occupied with the image of Regulus dancing in his tight, black leggings- or were they tights? He should go back in and take a closer look.

His phone buzzed. Luna refused to go to bed before seeing a photo of James finding the necklace.

Finally, the music inside stopped, and the door opened. A dozen dancers in black training clothes between 17 and 23 years old poured out of the room, whispering and stretching their tired limbs. Some of them glanced at James and laughed.

“Hey, you,” the last student to come out addressed him in passing. “He says, you can go in now. Good luck.”

Good Luck?

James swallowed and slipped into the room.

Regulus stood at the piano with his back to him as if he didn’t know the effects of that sight.

“Mr Potter,” He said harshly, “You never just barge into a studio. You wait at the door until you are bid inside. Your seven-year-olds understood this. Why not you?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Regulus turned to him. James forced himself not to let his eyes drop to his crotch. Why did grown dancers always look like they were packing?

“Well, what do you want?”

“I... right, my daughter lost her necklace, and I thought it might be here.”

“Ah. Butterfly?” He took his stuff from the bench. He had to turn for this again. James was going to die.

“Yes. Yes, it has a butterfly on it. Did you see it?”

“Oui. It is in my office. Come with me.”

He walked past him. His back and front were mirrored a dozen times around them. For fucks sake.

“And Mr Potter, remember there are mirrors everywhere. I see where you’re looking.”

And now James was blushing. Great.

Regulus led him down the hallway to a door that said “office” and “knock.”

He unlocked it and led him inside. He dropped his things on the ground and picked up the butterfly necklace from his desk.

“This one?”

“Yes! Oh, thank God. You have no idea what kind of drama this caused. Luna blamed Harry, and, well, the necklace is from her-“

A knock interrupted him. “I'm sorry, Monsieur Regulus. I just want to give back the key to the changing rooms.”

He waved the student inside. He placed the keys on two hooks by the door, said goodbye to Regulus and disappeared without even acknowledging James.

“Is that all, then?” Regulus asked, picking up a document on the desk. I have had a busy day. I’m hungry and have to take the… tube.” James had never heard this much disdain in his voice - which said something.

James was quite hungry himself. He couldn’t stay for dinner at Lily’s place; now they had already eaten.

He looked back at Regulus. Oh, it would be bold to ask him. He wasn’t entirely sure whether he disliked him. It was definitely possible, even likely. But Regulus was good-looking, and James was stupid- and bold.

“If you’re hungry, we could grab a bite... together.”

Regulus looked up from the documents.

“My treat as, you know, thanks for keeping the necklace safe.”

“Shouldn’t you bring it home to your daughter?”

“Driving back to Lily’s place at this hour? Through this traffic? No, it’s the opposite direction of where I live. I’ll send a photo to prove that I have it and drop it off at the school tomorrow. She said it would be enough.”

Speaking of which, he took out his phone and sent the evidence to Lily so she could finally put Luna to bed.

“So, do you want to join me for dinner?”

Regulus looked him up and down. Then he shrugged. “Fine.”

“Great!”

“Will you wait in the hallway until I changed or do you expect me to go like this?”

“Well...”

“Mr Potter,” He scolded him.

James raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll wait.”

He left the office and quietly cheered for himself.

Lily texted that Luna had calmed down and agreed to go to bed.

When Regulus left his office, he wore jeans and a tight-fitted black shirt, exposing his muscular arms. His entire body was carved and defined, with flawless skin pulled tightly over muscles typical for gymnasts rather than gym rats and ball players.

Ballet Dancers. Holy fuck. Ballet dancers.

“So, what do ballet dancers eat?” James asked, mostly to say anything and not just stare at him like a freak.

“Air and their rivals’ dreams. Ballet teachers eat Italian.”

“I know a good Italian close by. We can even walk there.”

“Then lead the way, Mr Potter.”

“Please, call me James.”

“Fine. James.”

His name sounded lovely in Regulus’s little accent.

Regulus seemed pleased with his choice when they sat down, as pleased as he let his face reveal, at least.

“Your dancing looked great,” James said after they ordered.

Regulus raised an eyebrow at him. Of course, his dancing looked great. He was a professional.

“I mean, because of your... injury.”

“Ah,” he said, looking away. “You googled me?”

“Not me, Lily googled you. That’s one of Luna and Harry’s mums. Anyway, I didn’t know you danced with the students.”

“I have to show choreographies and certain figures, of course. But what you saw wasn’t a regular lesson. A friend of mine is producing a small ballet and asked some of my students and me to participate. We were rehearsing.”

“So, you’re still on stage?”

“Yes. I can’t dance with the big companies, but I still dance. Don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate to have a life-altering injury be the first topic to pick over dinner?”

Shit. Of course. “Sorry,” He mumbled sheepishly. “Well, now you have an inappropriate question for free.”

Regulus smirked at him. Apparently, James hasn’t messed up yet. “Well then, tell me the story of you, the children, and their mums.”

The way he looked at him when he asked this made James think he only called it inappropriate to find an excuse to ask.

James liked talking about his kids, so this wasn’t a problem. Maybe he could even smoothly mention that he was hopelessly single.

“Well, their mums, Lily and Pandora, are friends of mine. I went to school with Lily. They always wanted a family, but it fell through whenever they thought they could adopt. So, finally, they decided to go the sperm donor route. They didn’t want a stranger for a dad, so they asked me.”

“You’re rather involved for a donor.”

“Yeah... well, I always thought I’d have kids of my own by that time. A spouse, a home, a family, the whole thing, but I didn’t. I thought maybe if I helped them, I could at least be a secondary parent. I don’t really have custody, but I’m involved. I’m their dad. They have a room at my place and can stay whenever they want, but I’m not a primary parent with all the rights.”

“Hm. And you’re not afraid they’d forbid you to see the children one day or take them away?”

“No. They’re my friends. They’d never do that.”

“You have trust in people. That’s interesting. And so typical for team sport players.”

James chuckled at the little eye roll when he said ‘team sport’.

“I thought you viewed the recitals as a team sport, too.”

He shrugged. “It’s complicated. Dancers are always rivals. There is constant, relentless competition, but you are supposed to trust them and work together when performing.”

“Sounds toxic,” James pointed out.

“Toxic and professional ballet are basically synonyms.”

James sighed. “Do you think we’re bad parents for letting our daughter do ballet?”

“No. You afford me a very comfortable lifestyle,” he smirked. “Also, as long as someone truly wants to do ballet, I think they should. It’s a hard sport. It is what it is.”

The food arrived.

“You do football coaching, no?” Regulus asked when the waiter left. “You don’t think anyone is a bad parent because they send their children to do a sport that risks injury and rivalry with other teams.”

James hummed. “You’re right. But I don’t coach children.”

“Oh?”

“I’m starting to take over more coaching responsibilities for my football club’s under-21 team. I’m ageing out of playing myself.”

He blinked at him, confused. “You are a pro player then?”

“Yes. And I do hope that you have no interest in football at all. I’d be heartbroken if you were a fan and just didn’t recognise my name.”

“I loathe all ball sports. And I’d root for France anyway.”

“My luck. Now it’s less embarrassing that I didn’t know you were such a big deal in ballet before Lily told me her Google results.”

“Well, look at us. Two famous athletes, completely unknown to the people around us.”

“Hey, I get recognised sometimes.”

Regulus smiled to himself and shook his head. James wished he’d smile while looking at him. He wanted to see the full effect on his features.

“So, do you have children?” James asked, “A family?”

“No. I barely had time for romantic relationships, let alone things like weddings or children. I am Draco’s godfather, though.”

“That’s... sad.”

Regulus frowned at him.

“I mean that you didn’t have time for it. I was simply unwanted.”

“You.” He looked at him like he was talking nonsense. He let his eyes wander over James’s arms up to his face. He did it slowly, wanting him to notice. “Unwanted.”

He shrugged. “In the long term.”

“Ah. Well, that’s more likely.”

James wasn’t sure whether Regulus called him irresistibly hot or unbearable to be with, so he decided to change the topic.

“Do you have other family here? I expected them to be in France.”

“One of my cousins is in France. The others are here in England. My parents are dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Ugh, don’t be.” He rolled his eyes. “What about you?”

“My parents are alive. I don’t really have cousins or anything. I have a brother. Well, not really. He’s my best friend, but we went to school together and lived together for years. My parents treat him like a second son.”

Regulus’s face took on an expression James didn’t understand. It only lasted a second, and then his face went blank again.

“Do you have any siblings?” He asked carefully.

“No,” He said, harsher than the topic suggested. He cleared his throat.

James decided that he had covered enough inappropriate topics for one evening. If this were a date, he’d assume it wasn’t going well.

“How do you think the rehearsals are going for the children’s recital?”

“They’re going well. The children are taking easily to the choreographies. We will start the joined rehearsals soon.”

“Joined rehearsals?

“Yes. Have you not read the info sheet?”

“Not thoroughly. I don’t have legal power to sign the thing, so I didn’t really read it either.”

Regulus looked disappointed. James was absolutely blowing this. And not in the way he wanted to.

“I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”

He shrugged. “I’d lie and say I appreciate honesty. I just thought you were a better father.”

That was uncalled for. James was a good father - as good as he could be while staying in his lane.

“Luna is a very talented and enthusiastic young girl. Shouldn’t you show interest in her hobby?”

“I am. I’m taking her to every lesson. The info sheet is for the parents to agree with participating in the recital, right?”

“Yes, but it also informs you of dates and different rehearsal schedules. Are you relying on the mothers to tell you where you have to be?”

James stopped himself from saying ‘yes’. “Well, if I had read it, I would have passed on the chance of having you tell me about it in that mildly annoyed voice I came to enjoy.” He gave him a genuine smile.

Regulus regarded him thoughtfully, deciding whether he meant it or not. Then he smiled with one corner of his mouth. “Fine. We have a recital at the beginning of November. It happens in a small theatre. We use steps and routines from the main project, as well as other steps, showing progress, and so on. It is like an extra rehearsal for me to see how the children are adapting and behaving on stage. The main project we are working on is our big performance by the end of December. The entire school is part of it, and we perform in a bigger theatre with guests from the dance world, teachers from academies and so on – for the older students, of course.”

“Like scouts?”

“Exactly. We need the small recital to see if the children are ready to perform on the bigger stage with more pressure. For some of my older students, the big performances in December and June are what it is all about. They worked hard just to get the chance of being seen by an influential person.”

“And the joined rehearsals are for the big performance?”

“Yes. We’ll start with bringing all the older kids together. I don’t want to confuse the little ones by having them learn two things at a time.”

“And what will you perform in December?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “The Nutcracker.”

“You sound… enthusiastic.”

“It is always the Nutcracker. It can only be exciting so many times. I can dance the entire thing in every position from beginning to end, even the women’s roles. Hell, I could do it in Pointe shoes.”

James frowned. “Yes, I assumed that. You’re a pro, after all. Of course, you could do in pointy shoes.”

He smiled faintly. “Men don’t wear pointe shoes, James.”

It still sounded amazing when he said his name.

“Oh. If you dislike the Nutcracker so much, why do you choose it?”

“It’s a classic. People love to come and watch it, especially around Christmas. Audience equals money. Also, everyone can participate. From the beginner children over the teens to the young adults, there are roles for every single child in the school.”

“Well, not every child. The ones you let participate.”

“Ah, yes. But you know the Team-and-Trust principle.”

James nodded. He remembered the fairytale of the Nutcracker and the Mouse King. He liked it as a child. “Not to sound uncultured, but I’ve never seen the ballet of the Nutcracker. I’m looking forward to seeing it this year.”

“If Luna works hard, you’ll even be able to see your daughter in it.”

“Which role do you think she can dance?”

He shrugged and sipped on his drink. “The young children don’t get big roles. She’ll most likely be a child at the party in the beginning or a mouse. I do see talent in her. She could dance Klara in three years already.”

“Three years is ‘already’ in dance?”

“It comes with a solo. Also, she will be, what, ten? That’s rather young for Klara—not even Pointe shoes age.”

“I didn’t know Pointy shoes had an age limit.”

“They do if you’re not insane. Pointe shoes are not exactly beneficial to your feet, especially not on young feet.”

“It’s nice knowing you care about the children’s health.”

He looked at his glass. “Well, I want them to enjoy ballet for as long as possible. That’s why I throw out children who don’t want to dance or disrupt the class.”

“You don’t throw out Draco,” James pointed out. “You said yourself he has no enthusiasm.”

He frowned. James really kept messing up, didn’t he?

“My Cousin would never let him stop ballet. If I didn’t teach him, he’d simply be forced to go to a different teacher who doesn’t care for him.”

“Oh. I think it’s nice how you care about him. In general, you may be a strict teacher, but you’re not nasty to them. I’ve met enough children’s football coaches to know many people think they’re the same thing.”

James seemed to have finally said the right thing.

“Thank you. That is very important to me. There is a lot of pressure the longer you dance, so much that people forget it’s supposed to bring you joy, too. If you teach them with too much leniency, they won’t be able to handle it once they get a different teacher. There must be a way to teach ballet with the needed strictness and perfectionism while preserving the dancer’s love for the sport.”

James nodded as if he understood anything about teaching dance. It didn’t matter whether or not he knew how other teachers behaved as long as he knew that Regulus’s teaching style made him all the more attractive.

He got a sweet expression on his handsome face when he talked about the joy of it, just like he did when he spoke of the prospect of his students being scouted.

“May I ask a question that might be inappropriate again?”

“If it is important to you to know, go ahead.”

“Do you ever miss it? Dancing on the big stage? Being the main attraction? The Star?”

He thoughtfully chewed his pasta. “Do you mean ‘Star’ like a celebrity or the danseur etoile, principal dancer rank, of the Paris Opera? Because I never received that title.”

“Dancer Twall?”

“Danseur Etoile. Star dancer. It’s the highest rank a dancer can reach in the Paris Opera Ballet. I would have liked to accomplish it before… but no one nominated me. I also wasn’t at the age when people typically receive the title. Anyway, that is not what you asked.”

“No. But it sounds like a big deal. Like, when it’s the World Cup, and you score the goal that wins the finale for your country.”

“Possibly. That is why I don’t like team sports. Your accomplishments are never your own but your team’s or, God forbid, your country’s. Did you ever score in the World Cup?”

“I’m not on the national team, and we weren’t ever in first place in Premier, either. My goals were never that meaningful, but I’m not worried about my accomplishments. I’m happy with what I’ve done in my career. I just don’t want it to end.”

Regulus looked conflicted. He sipped his drink and didn’t quite look at him when he spoke again. “To answer your question, I do miss it. It’s natural to miss something that was part – no, that was your life for so many years. But I missed the joys of ballet even when I was still at the Paris Opera. I missed the desire to dance and all the happiness it used to bring me for a long time before my injury. Now, with the school and my new projects, I dance again and love it. Missing being in the lime line will fade as soon as you recall all the moments that limelight prevented you from enjoying something.”

Something about his voice was startling. He knew the tone. His best friend, Sirius, often had a similar tone in his voice, usually when something made him deeply emotional, and he tried to hide it.

“You’re right. I can still play, just not with all those younger blokes. …I don’t know, maybe I’m just afraid to let go of that career because it feels like I haven’t accomplished much else.”

“You have two children who seem to like you very much.”

“Yes, but they’re not really my children, you know? I mean, biologically, yes. But it’s not that one of the girls and I had a child, and her wife is the extra parent. I’m the extra parent. And I’m okay with that. I am. I thought I’d have my own family at this point and be the primary parent for them.”

“Have you ever considered asking them for more time or rights?”

“No. We have a clear agreement. Also, I don’t want to interject their family. They may be my children, but it’s their family. The fact that they know that I’m their dad and even call me dad is more than donors usually get. I want my own family. I want to be a good dad.”

“You’re a good dad,” he said simply. How would he know? He only saw him once a week for an hour, and he didn’t interact with his children during that time.

“What makes you think so?”

“The way you talked to me about them, the way Harry threatened me with you, the fact that you pulled him out of my class when he proved that he didn’t want to dance. I’ve been around bad parents all my life; a bunch of bad mums are sitting in my studio every other day. Maybe my bar is low, but you’re a good dad in my world.”

James smiled, suddenly realising how important it was to him to be perceived as a good dad. His best friend came from a bad home and always found comfort in James’s parents. He didn’t want any child of his ever to need this kind of kindness from another family. He wanted to be the same kind of safe space his parents were.

“I wouldn’t sit here with you if I didn’t think you were a good dad,” Regulus said quietly, like an afterthought he didn’t mean to add.

“Why not?” James asked, confused.

“I wouldn’t give you the time of day. Ever. Do you ever see me having after-session conversations with other parents? Or, God forbid, spend my free time with them? They’d just sit here and try to convince me to prioritise their children.”

“Ah, you never know. Maybe this is just a long con to ensure Luna gets to be Klara in three years.” He winked at him. “Also, I bet most mothers in that class would speak with you to flirt.”

“Worse.”

James chuckled. “Flirting is worse than asking you to favour some of the children?”

“Not to feed into stereotypes, but I’m gay, James.”

James wondered briefly whether he already knew that or just assumed.

“I’m into men, too.” He said without thinking.

Regulus pushed his plate away and folded his hands under his chin. “Yes, I assumed so from how you look at me every week. Mirrors, James. You seem to forget about them a lot.”

This man was really capable of making him feel like a teenager. He was glad he didn’t blush.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be.”

Don’t be? Well then.

James abandoned all shame. “I couldn’t help myself. You’re hot.”

“So are you.”

He leaned over the table, lowering his voice. “You look sexy in those tight leggings. You made me realise how much I like ballet dancers.”

He smirked. “And I like unmarried fathers who love their children.”

“I love my children.”

“I love fucking hot men in their cars.”

“I could give you a ride home so you don’t have to take the tube.”

“I could give you a ride, too. A different kind.”

James’s brain short-circuited. A voice in his brain erupted in cheering and skipping—it knew it had been a while since the last time.

A little dazed and mentally already kissing Regulus, James lifted his arm towards the waiter. “Check, please.”

Regulus chuckled. “Do you want to split?”

“God, no. I invite you.”

“Okay. I go to the restroom to freshen up. Be right back.”

Minutes later, James and Regulus were leaving the restaurant.

This was insane. Absolutely insane. Not only did Regulus find him attractive enough to fuck, but he was about to do just that.

They walked back to the parking lot by the dance school.

Only two cars were left, and Regulus walked straight up to James’s. He waited for him, leaning against the driver’s door. A streetlight hit his face at a perfect angle, highlighting his hair, cheekbones, and lips.

Some part of his brain was occupied with wondering about the mechanics of this, and the other one made him walk straight up to the man, push him gently against the car, and kiss him. Regulus’s lips were perfectly soft and wet under his own. As harsh as the words dropping from his mouth could be, it turned gentle and giving like this.

James sank his hands into Regulus’s hair. He pulled him closer and parted his lips ever so slightly. At the first slip of tongue, James pushed his leg between his. Regulus chuckled against him. He kissed him passionately, rolled his hips, and fumbled with the buttons of James’s shirt.

They ended up in the car, in the driver’s seat. James pushed it back as far as possible to allow Regulus to straddle his lap.

James’s shirt was open, and Regulus’s lips were on his neck, clavicle, and chest. His hands were concerned with his belt.

Regulus’s trousers were already open. James squeezed his arse. He fucking dreamed about this like a teenage boy. He felt stupidly young, sitting in his car with a hotter-than-reasonable man on top of him and his perfect body under his fingertips.

He grasped Regulus’s half-hard cock, eliciting a low moan from him. James decided then that this could not be a one-time thing. He couldn’t live the rest of his life without hearing this sound.

Regulus got his belt open by now and pulled James’s cock out of his trousers, giving him the same treatment.

“Kiss me,” James rasped.

Regulus did. They weren’t gentle anymore. The kiss was raw passion, broken up by breathless noises. Regulus’s hands were warm and soft around his hard cock. He was aching with lust like he hadn’t in a while.

He had wanted this man for months, and he was finally in his arms. He needed to have him, now. He needed to be inside of him. Now.

James pushed at the dancer’s trousers. “Reg,” he said breathlessly, too impatient to get the full name out, “How are we-“

He laughed against him and said something in French – now, he needs him now!

He really might have travelled back in time and turned into a teenager again. He was acting like one, at any rate.

Regulus detached himself from James and shifted to the passenger seat to quickly get his bottoms off. James let his eyes feast on him, from the strong legs of a dancer, the surgical scars on his ankle and his knee, over his thighs to his exposed, hard cock.

His younger self has never been this fucking lucky.

Regulus reached for his bag in the legroom of the passenger seat, pulling out a small bottle of lube and a condom.

James pushed his own clothes down as far as necessary. Regulus kicked himself back up and retook his position on top of him.

James took the lube from him and poured some of it on his fingertips. Regulus’s lips were on his again.

James reached around him and rubbed his fingers against his hole. He made encouraging noises against his lips. A breathless moan escaped him when James pushed in.

He cursed in French and ripped open the condom wrapper. James wanted to make him forget the English language entirely.

He was tight and hot around his fingers, and his cock was aching at the thought of getting inside him.

Regulus placed the condom on James’s cock and lubed him up. He pushed his hands away, moved up on his body and lined up his body with his cock. He was as impatient as James.

Regulus made a sweet, high-pitched sound when James’s cock entered him. He threw his head back, exposing the perfect white column of his throat, while lowering himself on him.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” James panted, placing his hands on his hips and digging into his soft flesh. “You feel so good.”

Regulus kissed him again. He began to move his body, torturing James with slow, deliberate movements. He was perfectly hot and smooth. His lips were soft and swollen under his, and his tongue slipped back into his mouth.

After the first careful strokes, Regulus picked up his pace. He rode him hard into the car seat, moaning against him. The car shook.

Regulus’s body was a masterpiece, the way he could move and look in the light shining through the car windows. He was beautiful.

He moaned and gasped broken words in heavy-accented English. James wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him in the same rhythm as Regulus brought his hips down on him.

He kissed his face and neck, slipping into French, mumbling words like “si grosse” and “épaisse” and an accented version of his name, James instantly became addicted to.

Their remaining clothes clung to their sweat-drenched bodies. The air around them was thick and heated.

Praises and curses fell from James’s lips. He wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer.

Regulus’s lips found his again. He pulled on James’s bottom lip with his teeth, then smashed their mouths together in a passionate kiss again. James was in heaven.

All of this felt miles and miles better than what James had dreamed of.

Regulus moaned loudly, pressing their bodies together and clenching around his cock. A shudder went through his body as he came over James’s hand.

He collapsed against him, breathing heavily against his neck. He kept moving, determined to ride James until completion. James grabbed his hips, seizing control of the rhythm. Regulus let him do it without complaint, lazily kissing his neck and cheek.

Regulus moaning his name again finally tipped him over the edge. He pushed Regulus’s body down on him as he came hard inside of him.

James let himself sink into the car seat, his arms wrapped around Regulus. He kissed the side of his face and closed his eyes for a moment.

The scene was rudely interrupted by a knock on the window. James jolted, causing Regulus to hiss and insult him. Outside of the car stood, curiously, the receptionist from the ballet school.

Regulus found the button to roll down the window.

“What are you doing?” James hissed and pulled the other’s shirt down to cover him at least a bit.

The man ignored him and looked thoroughly unimpressed at his receptionist. “Barty, what do you want?”

With a teasing smirk, he pushed a pack of tissues through the window. “Thought you might need this. Do you want me to drop you off at home?”

Regulus rolled his eyes and looked down at James. “I seem to remember a ride-for-a-ride kind of deal, no?”

James nodded speechlessly.

“You can go, Barty. I’ll find my way.”

“Sure. Text me. Reg, text me.” He pointed from his eyes to Regulus and back and finally turned away from the car.

Regulus rolled his eyes and placed a sweet kiss on James’s lips before lifting his body from his. He heaved himself to the passenger seat and grabbed his trousers. He hissed uncomfortably when he tried to get them back on in the narrow space.

“You okay?”

“Yes, just the dancing, plus that position wasn’t great for my leg.”

“Oh, fuck, right. Sorry.”

“It’s my own fault. I’ll live.”

James pushed himself up from the seat as well and leaned over to kiss him again.