James prided himself on a lot of things: his Quidditch skills, his devil-may-care confidence, and his generally magnetic personality. But lately, that pride had taken a hit. The scar from his latest match was small—barely noticeable, really—but it represented failure in the one thing he thought he was best at. That nagging insecurity had James doing something he never thought he’d do: hiding.

He was sprawled on his bed in the Gryffindor dorms, shirt discarded, too tired from a long day to bother covering up as he tried to focus on his notes. That’s when the door creaked open, and Regulus walked in, carrying that calm authority he always seemed to have.

“Should I come back later?” Regulus asked, amused, though his eyes immediately fell on the scar etched across James’ stomach.

James scrambled to sit up, reaching for his shirt, but Regulus was quicker. He crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed, his cool fingers brushing James’ hand away. “Why are you hiding it?”

James shrugged, cheeks red. “I dunno. It’s ugly.”

Regulus tilted his head, frowning. “You think a scar makes you less perfect?” His voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the sincerity. Without waiting for James to answer, Regulus leaned forward, lips brushing against the faint line of the scar. The gentleness of the gesture sent warmth pooling in James’ chest.

“See?” Regulus murmured, his eyes meeting James’. “It’s just a mark. Nothing more. And it doesn’t change a thing.”

For the first time in days, James felt the knot of insecurity loosen. Trust Regulus to turn something he hated into something almost beautiful.