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It's five in the evening, and James is just locking up the room of the museum he works in.
Then, he gets the call.
He picks up his phone without looking, and wedges it between his ear and shoulder, busy trying to find the right key to lock up these fragile, expensive displays of jewellery. James works in a world renowned jewellery museum in London, best known for it's rare, extravagant pieces from the 16th century. He was lucky enough to land a job as a curator a few months ago, and he's been dedicating almost all of his spare time to the museum. Which essentially encompasses any time not spent with his incredible, gorgeous, vampire boyfriend: Regulus Black.
Corrugated gold key finally in his grip, James wedges the key into the lock closing up a glass case—then nearly drops his phone.
The voice on the other end is smooth, cold and tinged with the faintest Russian accent.
Shit.
“James Potter. It has come to my attention that my serpentine amulet has gone missing. Imagine my surprise upon seeing the headline your museum acquired a sixteenth century necklace this morning?!”
James raises his gaze guiltily, where inside the bulletproof glass case he was just closing, a gorgeous, sapphire gem lies. It's lit up by a glowing gold light source, and the gem is hugged by two miniscule twisting snakes on either side. The whole necklace is on a stepped velvet display—a sharp contrast to the mahogany dresser it was lying on just two days ago…
“Hey, sweetheart…” James says, wincing at himself. “Yeah, that must have been, like, totally shocking.”
The phone line crackles a little as Regulus releases a long-suffering sigh. “James, if my amulet is not once more on my dresser in a week's time, I will literally break into your museum to rob all the sixteenth century gemstones. You think I'm kidding? I'm not kidding. James, it's literally cursed!” Regulus's accent curls over the words, especially literally, distracting James for a second.
He can't help laughing a little—"But it's so pretty Regulus, my supervisor adores it!” He didn't actually know it was cursed, though he probably should have assumed. Regulus, unsurprisingly, almost solely wears jewellery that has the potential to cause people immense pain.
Regulus abruptly hangs up, as if wanting to hide the sound of his own laugh.
James smiles. He'll take the amulet back home soon. It was pretty while it lasted.
If you're wondering how he and Regulus met, it was during James and Remus’s outing to Russia six months ago. Remus had always wanted to go, saying something about famous philosophers and writers or something. The week before they left for a fortnight-long trip, Remus waxed lyrical about death nonstop. James is pretty sure he had been reading up on Russian literature.
This also happened to include the origin of the myth of vampires—some man with a sleekly wicked name was the original vampire, James remembers faintly. Vladimir? And also something about releasing bats over an army? Well, anyway James had listened interestedly and abruptly forgotten all about vampires until their third-last day in Russia, when he spotted blood in the snow.
They travelled to Russia in winter, and although they both adored the snow, Remus had an unfortunate predisposition to the cold. The man up bedridden for their last four days. The first day, James had stayed with him at home, but when it fast became apparent that Remus wasn't on the verge of immediate death, Remus kicked him out of their air BnB. He insisted that at least one of them should enjoy their final days in Russia, and since all he was going to do was read and make instant noodles, he didn't need James to stay behind. After some initial resistance (and preparing Remus some actually healthy food) James ended up trekking outside the next day, meaning to take a long walk (including lots of pictures for Remus).
He had gotten pretty far from their warm, cosy cabin when his signal had abruptly given out, and blood appeared on the snow in front of him.
He'd followed the line of red up, up visually, until he was facing a very, very beautiful man. He later found out that the man was Regulus Black, and in fact not a man, but a vampire.
James had been a lot more focused on his attraction to this man than silly little matters such as his species, however.
He'd asked Regulus if he knew where the blood was coming from, nervous for all the wrong reasons. Then Regulus’s carved demeanor split into a slow smile, punctuated by two protruding, bloody canines, and the rest had been history.
Later, Regulus had told James how surprised he'd been when James didn't question he was a vampire. James, however, loved to read, and assumed a random figure in the middle of empty Russia was probably telling the truth about who he was. Plus, the nearest cosplay convention was probably miles and miles away, so Regulus had to be legit.
It definitely wasn't that James had the unfortunate habit of just talking things at face value.
James had ended up spending all his time with Regulus for his final days in Russia. He made sure to take some pictures for Remus, making it seem like he was going on long walks, because unlike him, no matter how avid of a reader Remus was, there was no way he'd believe James that Reg was a vampire. He'd also definitely be worried James was repeatedly meeting up with a stranger in an unfamiliar country with nobody else around for miles, and Remus being Remus, he'd probably try and come with James to see who the stranger was, or something else stupid. Then, the man would get himself even sicker.
So James secretly met up with the gorgeous man, and let him drink his blood (which was actually very sexy) for the remainder of his days in Russia. Then, on his last day, they had one final conversation—one James had been working himself up for.
“Reg.”
“Regulus,” he corrected.
“Reg,”James persisted, pretend not to see the hint of a smile on Regulus's lower lip.
Just two days ago, they'd never met. James had trouble imagining it. Just two days ago, Regulus had been on the verge of killing him, before James had talked him out of it.
“I'd like you to come with me. Back to England. Not—not in a friend way.” His ears were probably bright red—or as bright as his darker skin could go. Not in a friend way?! Please, end his suffering. Regulus raised his eyebrows, twitching a little. “To…stay with you? Where you live?”
“Yes—if that's what you want.” In a romantic way. James searched Regulus's eyes, looking for any hint of what he was feeling reflected back at him. “You know, you have an infinite lifespan—”
“I do know that.”
“Regulus,” he groaned. “I was just going to say! You've never been to England. It shouldn't stay that way forever. And it's not like it'd be time lost to you.” Regulus's lip pursed a little, his eyebrows drew in, and James felt a physical pull to the vampire, as if he'd burst into flame if he couldn't touch him.
“…James. I don't do relationships, for precisely that reason. I can't get attached. I won't die. One day, soon enough, you will.” James didn't flinch—outwardly, at least. It wasn't that he was afraid of dying. But he wanted, god, he wanted Regulus to be attached to him. So he searched his expression, looking for anything that opposed what he had just said. And he found it. “Regulus - look, I'm already attached to you. It's only been two days, and this is stupid, but I feel like I can't leave here without you—you and me.” And he saw, in the curve of Regulus's shoulders exactly when he won. “And if you're already—if you already feel something for me, it's too late to try and stop, and wonder what could have been.”
He hesitated, a little, afraid he had assumed too much about Regulus's feelings towards him. James loved hard and fast, he knew it. But he also had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly when he and someone else would be incredible together.
And James just knew that Regulus Black could be the one for him. He didn't say that of course. He didn't need to scare Reg away.
But.
He knew.
And he'd been proven right, when Regulus agreed to join him back in England, seeming shocked at his own words. Beneath that, thought, was the sort of joy that James could only compare to the sun.
Since Reg could actually, literally turn into a bat, they agreed that a week after James and Remus's return flight to England, Regulus would fly over, with copious stops in the rest of Europe (apparently he had friends to visit?). When he would arrive in London, he would move into James's apartment (which had a spare bedroom) immediately. Then, James would inform his friends, including Remus, that he and Reg had been dating for a few months prior to the trip and had moved in together.
Dating. Dating an immortal vampire. James had no idea how he'd gotten into this situation, but god, Regulus was a dream.
James was walking on air when he returned to the cabin Air BnB on their last evening. When Remus inevitably grew suspicious, he pulled up pictures on his phone of some exotic bird species he had photographed on his way back. Remus was officially distracted, and James had the opportunity to hide something Regulus had given to him in his suitcase.
An intricately carved iron ring, with a human tooth protruding gracefully from the centre.
James didn't bother asking where the tooth was from. Truth be told, he didn't give a shit. The ring was gorgeous, and while unusual, he had seen similar enough styles from the Victorian era for it to be vintage, and therefore not too noticeable.
James was trying not to read into the symbolism of Reg giving him a tooth ring, when their teeth were literally what kept them alive, for vampires.
He was failing miserably.
He placed the ring reverently between two of his fluffiest socks, and then they were on a flight back to Heathrow, London.
The week before Regulus arrived was potentially one of the longest of James's life. He spent the time investing in some new decor. He took down all the mirrors in his house, for starters. When he and Regulus had met in the snow every week, they would simply wander together through the landscape. It felt like neutral ground, even though Regulus certainly had the advantage. There were no other people anywhere that James knew of.
Somehow, Regulus's breath always faintly smelt of copper and mint.
Mostly mint.
James didn't bother asking where the copper was from.
Anyway, Regulus had mentioned in passing that ever though mirrors nowadays weren't manufactured with silver, meaning they couldn't out what Reg really was, he still shied away from them instinctually. And James wanted him to feel comfortable everywhere in the apartment, so no more mirrors for him.
He also purchased some blackout curtains; he didn't want Reg waking up with a sunburn. While he wouldn't spontaneously burst into flame in the sunlight, he would burn far more easily than the average human. James also bought some deep, red gothic candles, just for the vibes. If Regulus didn't like them, he'd probably at least find them funny. Lastly, he borrowed every book he could find even mentioning vampires from the library, and stacked them under his bed.
The rest of the week, when he wasn't reading the books religiously, James applied for some jobs. His old contract, as a museum guide, had a termination date that was fast approaching, and James didn't particularly want to keep working at that museum anyway. He had studied museum curation at uni, endlessly fascinated by history's artefacts, and his true passion lay in jewellery anyway.
There was a position open, at a renowned museum James would visit all the time when he was younger, as curator for the incredible jewellery department. He couldn't send in this application fast enough—it’d be a dream come true. His perfect job. James didn't need to work for money, he was incredibly lucky in that sense. His parents made sure of that. However, they also make sure he was an ‘active member of society’, and that he had a job. James would get a job either way, however.
Being on his own too long wasn't good for him.
James also made a point to store all of his silver jewellery away, in a sturdy oak box beneath his bed. He couldn't bring himself to get entirely rid of it.Then, all there was left to do was wait.
James could visualise the moment Regulus had first been in his home. James had been out with Mary in a bar, trying to set her up with one of the bartenders that evening. It had been a successful night, and James had gone home in high spirits—only to jump out of his skin at the silhouette of a stranger in his home. The second he connected the figure to Regulus, he rushed inside to greet him. It was a day earlier than he'd been expecting.
Regulus had turned to James with a small, almost nervous smile. If immortal deadly vampires could get nervous, that would be.
He was perched on a deep teal armchair, evidently caught in the middle of inspecting the picture frames on James’s wall. He'd felt almost lightheaded for a moment, unable to believe this was real. Then, completely unsure of how to greet Regulus. Would he keep his distance? Hug him? Kiss him? No—even though they had kissed once, in Russia. James thought of the slide of Reg’s canines against his own tongue often.
In the end, Regulus had made the decision for him, standing and gesturing to the frames. “These are…lovely.” It seemed they both wanted to take things a little slower, now that they had time.
Well.
James supposed he didn't, really.
But they fell into a habit over the next few weeks. Regulus wanted to explore, at first.
It seemed to James, thrillingly, as if he was preparing to stay for a while. They visited different places, mostly in the hours of dawn and dusk. Quieter places, as Regulus preferred, and James was more than happy to oblige. Parks. Woodlands. The odd cemetery. All the landmarks of London, in the early hours when they were almost deserted (as deserted as London got).
Regulus didn't seem homesick at all. James suspected he had forced himself into expecting impermanence, as was the life of an immortal. Sometimes, he would catch Regulus looking at him the same way that James himself looked at his oldest jewellery pieces. Gorgeous—but ephemeral, and so, so fragile. Something you couldn't touch without tarnishing.
Unknowingly, after the initial few weeks, they settled into a steady routine. In the day, James would go to his new, amazing job. Regulus was apparently writing a book of some sort; a fantasy series involving copious supernatural entities, including vampires. He was apparently adding as much misinformation as he could into the book, “for the lols”.
Well, that's not exactly what he said, but you get the idea.
In the early mornings and late evenings, they would go on long, long walks together: a new route every week. Regulus had been attempting to teach James how to paint, and James told Regulus all there was to tell about his work in the museum, and his dream to open a vintage jewellery shop. He needed more experience before opening it, but he had been planning it all for quite some time now. They spent whole evenings picking through each other's belongings (mostly accessories) and asking about the story behind each item.
One of James' favourite items they had spoken about was a singular opal stud from Regulus, criss-crossed with wires of burnished gold. Reg wore it nearly every day. Apparently it was one he'd found in a decrepit castle's ruins, in the eye socket of a skeleton.
The eye socket of a skeleton.
It was literally something James would have written about in a fantasy novel. Unreal.
There was also a little vial of iridescent liquid Reg carried on a belt chain, everywhere he went. He said the liquid was that of immortality. James was only ninety-nine percent sure Reg was joking. Just in case he wasn't, he had taken to calling the vial eternal youth juice. He’d had the sliver of a thought once, however - although he pretended, even to himself, he didn't.
If it was immortality bottled, what if James…drank it?
Reg wouldn't have to worry about James dying on him then. And they could be together eternally. He wouldn't look at James like he was fragile, get a distant look in his eye when he saw him, ever so occasionally.
But ultimately, James didn't think he would survive outliving his friends and family. And he was perpetually afraid of the idea life could lose all meaning eventually. Like a pomegranate gutted by time.
So James didn't drink the youth.
And they carried on, for a very long time.