Fics like love is not a predicate

“What are you doing here?” “Couldn’t sleep,” James said with a grin, flashing straight, white teeth. “Decided to take a midnight stroll. You?” “Could you stroll in any other part of the campus?” Regulus responded. “Oh,” James murmured, smile faltering. “Well, I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t know you would be here, and I heard you playing and it was really, very good.” “Wonderful,” he said, voice dry. “Now if you would be so kind and leave.” “Can I listen?” James blurted. His nose scrunched after the words left his lips, and he reached up to scrub his fingers at the skin just beneath his eyes, behind the lenses of his round-rimmed glasses. “No.” *** Or, Regulus wants to be a classical pianist but can only bring himself to practice at night, and James has insomnia and finds music is the perfect cure. An exploration of Regulus's mind and struggle with the Black family, his journey to accepting himself, and his path to mending broken relationships, building new ones, and maybe, possibly, finding love. (circa 70s in a boarding school much like Hogwarts, only muggle)

Fics like love is not a predicate

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