Carpe Noctem

Golden boy, Lion boy; Tell me what it’s like to conquer. Fearless child, Broken boy; Tell me what it’s like to burn. James Potter, the dazzling "Golden Boy," has always been intensely curious. He notices a peculiar pattern: every weekend, when everyone is asleep, Regulus Black sneaks into an abandoned classroom on the fifth floor. The young Slytherin is shrouded in a different, unsettling secret, one that contrasts sharply with his radiant brother, Sirius. James cannot curb his curiosity. He desperately needs to find out what this "little Black" is truly up to. His quest will shatter the established lines of their hostility, exposing the vulnerability and pain that lie beneath Regulus's guarded exterior. When the light of conquest intertwines with the secret of the burn, will James's voyeuristic pursuit of Regulus's secret ignite a forbidden love destined to overturn their fates?

Carpe Noctem

Golden boy, Lion boy; Tell me what it’s like to conquer. Fearless child, Broken boy; Tell me what it’s like to burn. James Potter, the dazzling "Golden Boy," has always been intensely curious. He notices a peculiar pattern: every weekend, when everyone is asleep, Regulus Black sneaks into an abandoned classroom on the fifth floor. The young Slytherin is shrouded in a different, unsettling secret, one that contrasts sharply with his radiant brother, Sirius. James cannot curb his curiosity. He desperately needs to find out what this "little Black" is truly up to. His quest will shatter the established lines of their hostility, exposing the vulnerability and pain that lie beneath Regulus's guarded exterior. When the light of conquest intertwines with the secret of the burn, will James's voyeuristic pursuit of Regulus's secret ignite a forbidden love destined to overturn their fates?

Rain lashed against the stained-glass windows of the fifth floor, distorting the moonlight into jagged streaks across the stone. James crouched behind a suit of armor, heart hammering not from exertion, but from the sight before him.\n\nInside the cracked doorway of Classroom 5B, Regulus Black stood barefoot on ancient runes carved into the floor, his school robes discarded, chest heaving. Flames—black as void and hot enough to warp air—licked up his arms, curling around his throat like a serpent. He wasn’t screaming. He was singing.\n\nA low, guttural chant in a language James didn’t recognize. Each word seemed to tear from his ribs. Smoke coiled from his palms as the sigils pulsed crimson, drinking in something far deeper than blood.\n\nJames’s fingers twitched toward his wand. Every instinct screamed to burst in, to douse the fire, to rescue. But another voice whispered: Wait. Watch. This isn’t an accident. This is a ritual.\n\nAnd then Regulus opened his eyes—gray as winter dawn—and looked straight at the crack in the door.