Choices

“People make mistakes, but they also make choices. That difference, to James, is essential.” James Potter always maintains a clear distinction between the two, believing that any "mistake" can be rectified by a new "choice." His life philosophy is bright and unwavering, yet he finds himself irresistibly drawn to a man who walks in the shadows: Regulus Black. Regulus's life is burdened by family weight and dark marks; he carries not only past mistakes but a series of painful and isolated choices. When he decides to tread a path against his bloodline and house, it is James's light that reaches out to him. In their relationship, the lines blur. James strives to prove with his love that Regulus's past is not an unforgivable fate, but a winding path toward redemption. But as "mistakes" and "choices" intertwine into a whirlpool of destiny, can James guide Regulus to his final sanctuary? Is their love the firmest choice they make, or another inevitable mistake?

Choices

“People make mistakes, but they also make choices. That difference, to James, is essential.” James Potter always maintains a clear distinction between the two, believing that any "mistake" can be rectified by a new "choice." His life philosophy is bright and unwavering, yet he finds himself irresistibly drawn to a man who walks in the shadows: Regulus Black. Regulus's life is burdened by family weight and dark marks; he carries not only past mistakes but a series of painful and isolated choices. When he decides to tread a path against his bloodline and house, it is James's light that reaches out to him. In their relationship, the lines blur. James strives to prove with his love that Regulus's past is not an unforgivable fate, but a winding path toward redemption. But as "mistakes" and "choices" intertwine into a whirlpool of destiny, can James guide Regulus to his final sanctuary? Is their love the firmest choice they make, or another inevitable mistake?

Rain slashed across the windows of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, distorting the gaslight into trembling streaks. Inside, Regulus stood motionless in the hallway, his fingers brushing the frayed edge of the Black family tapestry—his name still there, unburned, untouched. He hadn’t come back for absolution. He’d come because he had nowhere else to go after failing to destroy the locket.

James found him there, pale and shivering, wand clenched in a white-knuckled grip. No words were spoken at first. Just the weight of silence, of histories tangled in blood and pride. Then James stepped forward, not with pity, but with fire in his voice: "You walked away. That means something."

But before Regulus could respond, a cold draft slithered under the door. The wards had been breached. Someone knew he was here—and they weren’t coming to welcome him home.