regulus black x twinpotter!reader ā¹ 10.2k
cw ā¢ eventual poly!bartylus!!, slytherin!reader, fluff, friends to lovers
summary: the potter twins, a marvelous duo split by the sorting hat. just like your brother you presence was addictive, drawing in the attentions of a particularly brooding black brother.
a/n: THIS IS THE FIRST OF HOPEFULLY MANY PARTS HEHEHE I HOPE YOU ENJOY MWAH!!! not proofread x
Dumbledore was convinced that both Euphemia and Fleamont Potter had carried out a divide and conquer tactic apon your arrival in the castle.
Individually, you and James were a force to be reckoned withāboth incredibly charismatic, intelligent and hard-headed, with a knack for mischief. So together, Dumbledoreās head only spun at the thought of the havoc the pair of you would cause.
Luckily, on the fateful day of your arrival, you were placed in Slytherin and your beloved twin brother was placed in Gryffindorāseparated for the first time ever. The moment still vivid in your mind, the second the sorting hat was on you, the way you flinched when it hummed, ponderingāvoice ringing loud in your ears as it announcedāSlytherin.
James had frozen at the Gryffindor table, half out of his seat, hand still twitching against the bench where heād been saving your spotāwatching as your lip trembled, walking glossy-eyed to the Slytherin table.
That first night, the castle felt too big, dungeon walls suffocating, too many corridors between you and your brother.
Of course it was hard, for the both of you.
James had always been protective over youāinfuriatingly so. Always reinforcing the fact that he needs to take care of his little sister. Like those three minutes made any difference at all.
It had been a slow shiftāpainful, even. You and James had always been a unit, bound by childhood games, matching jumpers, and the unspoken certainty that wherever one of you went, the other wasnāt far behind. But Hogwarts had changed that. The Sorting Hat had done more than divide you; it had distilled you. Pulled apart the blended pieces of your personalities and exposed them for what they truly were.
It gave you both room to grow.
Individually. Distinctively.
Earning names for yourselves outside of āthe Potter twinsā.
Youād both carved your names into the stone walls of Hogwarts in your own distinct waysāloud and clear, unmistakable.
James Potter was sunlight. A walking, talking explosion of brightness. He lit up corridors with that crooked grin and wind-mussed hair, bounding through the castle like he owned every inch of it. Gryffindor Quidditch captain, chaotic and loud and brilliant in all the ways that made people want to follow him into a duel or disaster.
He was the kind of boy who laughed with his whole chest, who spoke like everything he said mattered, arms slung around friends like they were lifelines. Always in motion. Always burning. A golden retriever in human form, all reckless energy and genuine joy.
Cool where James was burning. Still water to his wildfire. But no less dangerous.
They called you the evil twinānever to your face, and never with confidence. Not seriously. Not really. But the name clung to you like smoke. It suited you in the way all the best lies do: close enough to truth to be dangerous.
There was a calm to you, deliberate and composed, but it was the kind of calm that made people lean in too close, not noticing that they were slipping under the surface until it was far too late. You moved with the kind of grace that made people watch without realising they were watching, your smile soft, voice smoother still, and eyes always gleaming with something slightly wild.
They whispered about you long after you left a room.
Head Girl before your quill ever touched the application parchment. A perfect recordāat least on paper.
Your charm was quieter than Jamesā, more calculated, more disarming. Beautiful, brilliant, and just a little terrifying. You made people nervous, even when you were smiling. Especially when you were smiling.
There was a glint in your eyes that made hearts skip and stomachs drop, that whispered of games and secrets and consequences. A wicked sort of glimmer, like you knew every thought in their head and were already deciding what to do with it. Like the sea right before a storm.
Yin and yang, Dumbledore had once said, half in jest. Opposing forces in perfect balance.
You enter the Great Hall like a secret unfurlingāquiet and unannounced, not so much walking as gliding between tables, untouched by the noise that fills the air.
Steps silent across the stone floor, a slip of motion through the chaos of breakfastāchatter and cutlery and laughter clanging off the walls. You pass the Gryffindor table without so much as a murmur trailing behind you, and still, not one person notices.
Not until your hand touches Jamesā shoulder.
He jerks so violently he nearly knocks his goblet over, a string of startled swears tumbling from his mouth as his fork clatters against the plate. Pumpkin mash splatters. Someone at the table yelped. Sirius choked on his toast, and Remus actually gasped as if someoneās just hexed him.
And James was clutching his chest like youād stabbed him.
āBloodyā! Merlinās sake, you canāt justā!ā
You tilt your head at him, ever so slightly, a small smirk twitching at the corners of your lipsāeyes glinting with amusement. āJamie,ā you say in a sing-song lilt, sweet and syrupy, āYou wouldnāt happen to still have the History of Magic textbook you borrowed from me, would you?ā
A hush falls over the tableājust long enough to make you notice.
āEr. About that,ā he says, eyes darting like heās working out whether to lie or apologise. āI might still have it. Might. Canāt say what condition itās in, though.ā
Your smile fades instantly, its replacing expressing shockly serious.
āJames,ā you say flatly, eyes narrowing. āDid you ruin my book?ā
He winces. āDefine ruināā
āIt wasnāt on purpose!ā he insists quickly, shoulders raising like youāre about to hex him in the middle of the Great Hall. āThere was thisāuhāSirius spilled ink on the table and then Remus knocked it over and there was just a lot going on.ā
You stayed silent, blinking at him, unimpressed.
āIāll get you a new copy,ā he says, guilt creeping into his voice. āLater today. Youāll have to stop by the common room, though.ā
You sigh like it physically pains you. āFine. Iāll try to come by around seven.ā
He grins, pleased with himself. āSorry, Poppet*.*ā
You roll your eyes, but the edge of your mouth twitches. Straightening, with a roll of your shoulders as you draw your hand away from him, letting it fall to your side. And when you glace up again, the stares hadnāt stopped.
Like theyād forgotten to look away, the silence hung in the air for barely a second, scanning the table momentarilyābefore offering a small smileāslow, sweet, almost smug.
The kind of smile that ruins people.
āMākay, see you later, Jamie,ā you murmur, then turn and slip back into motion.
Eyes follow you as you goāevery turn of your heel, every soft shift of fabric, every second you exist within their line of sight. James barely registers it at firstātoo busy spearing his toast again, already halfway back into conversation. But then he pauses.
His eyes flick to Sirius. Then to Remus. Then to Marlene.
All three of them are still staring across the hall. Still tracking your path back to your table.
āOh for Merlinās sake,ā James groans loudly, glaring. āStop gawking at my sister.ā
Marlene blinks, caught. āSheās terrifying,ā she mutters, almost to herself.
āIn a reallyā¦good way,ā Remus adds, dazed.
James lets out a strangled sound and buries his face in his hands.
The portrait swings open without hesitation, at exactly seven oāclock sharp, youād been there enough times that even the Fat Lady doesnāt bother asking questions anymore.
James is already waiting on one of the overstuffed armchairs by the fire, textbook in hand. You barely slowed as you approached. He tossed it up with a practiced flick of the wrist, and you caught it one-handed.
āNew copy,ā he says proudly. āDidnāt even steal it. Arenāt you proud?ā
You hum in approval, flipping it open to scan the pages. āNo ink stains. No food crumbs. No smell of dungbombs.ā You close it with a satisfied snap. āMiracles do happen.ā
Before he can retort, youāve already turned toward the couch, where Lily is perched cross-legged with a steaming mug of something floral and her usual tower of parchment. She smiles when she sees you, shifting over to make space without being asked.
Tucking the textbook under your arm as you lower yourself beside her.
James raises a suspicious brow, but you and Lily are already whispering to each other, heads tilted close and expressions conspiratorial. Itās nothing terribly sinisterāsomething to do with Hogsmeade, and getting Slughorn to move a test back a weekābut itās enough to draw curious glances from the far side of the room.
But you donāt look. Donāt need to.
Sirius was pretending not to stare. Which is laughable, really, because his entire body was angled toward you, elbow propped on the back of the couch, fingers tangled in his hair in that careless way he probably thinks is charming.
And Remus was worse. Heās trying to read, bless him, book in his lap and everythingābut his eyes havenāt moved from you since you sat down. He shifts like heās uncomfortable, chewing the inside of his cheek. You think you catch the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck.
You say nothing. Keep your voice low as you murmur something into Lilyās ear that makes her snort softly behind her hand.
After ten minutes of easy conversation, you rise without ceremony, slipping the textbook fully under your arm and smoothing your skirt.
āWell,ā you say lightly, brushing a hand over your robes. āThis was fun.ā
Lily smirks. āWeāll finalise tomorrow?ā
āPerfectā You glance to James. āThanks for the book, Jamie.ā
You turn, finally acknowledging the two boys across the room with a glint of something wicked in your eye.
āGoodnight, boys,ā you said sweetlyāvoice soft as silk, almost melodic. The slightest edge of a smile curves your lips as you roll your eyes, and then youāre already walking toward the exit, the hem of your robes trailing behind you like smoke.
But if you had, you wouldāve seen Sirius run a hand through his hair and lean back with a low whistle.
āMerlin,ā he mutters. āIād swear sheās half siren if it werenāt for you, Prongsā
James, whoās still watching the portrait door swing shut, scoffs. āOh, come off it.ā
āWhat?ā Sirius grins, unashamed. āItās not my fault your sister isāā he gestures vaguely toward the door, āāwhatever that is.ā
Remus doesnāt say a word. His book is still open in his lapāheās not reading it.
āIām just saying,ā Sirius continues, āif she werenāt your sisterā¦ā
āBut she is my sister.ā James rebutted, slouching back in his seatāswiftly ending the conversation.
The corridor curved with quiet shadows, lit only by the flicker of distant torches. Your footsteps echoed faintly against the flagstone, a soft rhythm in the stillness of the dungeons. It was late, youād spent more time in the Gryffindor common room than youād realisedāmost of the castle already asleep, save for the odd prefect or wandering ghost.
You turned a corner near the potions classroom and nearly walked straight into Regulus Black.
He stopped short, posture already impeccable, as if even in surprise he couldn't be caught off guard. There was a brief flicker of something in his eyesārecognition, hesitationāand then he stepped slightly aside, giving you room without a word.
āBurning the midnight oil, Black?ā you asked, voice soft with the sort of casual familiarity that made his name sound like something you owned.
He glanced at you, dark eyes catching in the torchlight. āPrefect rounds. Took longer than expected.ā
You fell into step beside him as naturally as breathing, and he adjusted his pace to match yours without needing to be asked.
āWhat was it this time?ā you mused. āMore Gryffindors smuggling sweets from the kitchens?ā
āFourth-years,ā he said with a small exhaleāamusement undercutting his otherwise smooth tone. āSaid they were practicing for a future in espionage.ā
āAmbitious,ā you said, a smile tugging at your mouth. āAlmost enough to make me proud.ā
Regulus didnāt respond, but you felt the brief flick of his eyes on your profile, like he was trying not to look too long. Like he was trying not to seem too interested.
You didnāt comment, but you noticed.
By the time you reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, barely mumbling the password before the metal hinges whined, door opening slowly. Inside, the green-glass lamps glowed low, casting dreamy reflections against the water-like ceiling. The fire in the hearth crackled lazily, golden against the dark velvet furniture.
Dorcas sat half-curled on the rug, absently flipping through a magazine; Evan was draped across a couch like he owned it, cards floating above his face; Pandora leaned near him, humming as she threaded a strand of starlight-colored ribbon through her hair. It was a tableau of sleepy elegance.
Without hesitation, you crossed the room and lowered yourself to the center rug near the fire. Your hand stretched toward the flames without thought. A spark rose up, obedient and curious, dancing into your open palm.
Twirling it between your fingers like silk, the heat never burning you, the flame curling comfortably around your touch. Pandoraās fingers stilled in her braid, watching.
Dorcas tilted her head, eyes bright. āYou really have to teach me how to do that one day.ā
You didnāt look away from the fire. āOf course,ā you said lightly. āBut thereās a bit of a learning curve.ā
āLike what kind of curve?ā Evan asked, not looking up. āBurn-your-dormitory-down levels?ā
āMore like third-degree-if-youāre-clumsy,ā you replied with a grin.
āI could do it,ā a voice said behind you, full of loud confidence.
Barty stepped forward from where heād been balanced on the arm of the sofa, his hair tousled, shirt rumpled, and a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth like heād been waiting for the perfect moment to make an entrance.
You turned your head slightly, one brow raised. āCould you now?ā
āFirst try,ā he goaded, brows arched in light challenge. āSwear on my father's boring haircut.ā
Regulus snorted, not even looking up from his book. āYouāll burn yourself stupid.ā
āIāll be fine,ā Barty said, already striding forward. āHow hard can it be?ā
He reached toward the fire, trying to mimic the smooth gesture youād used, fingers tense with focus and impatience.
A small spark leapt upāand immediately sputtered, flaring far too quickly. The flame caught his skin with a sharp sizzle before he could react, and he yelped, flinging his hand back with a curse.
The room erupted with laughter.
Pandoraās hand clamped over her mouth as if to shove the laugh back in, both Evan and Dorcas threw their heads back in sync, barking out a laughāsound mixing with yours, loud and delighted, as Barty glared at the fire like it had personally betrayed him.
āUnder control, was it?ā you teased.
He cradled his palm like it was a war wound. āMinor setback. I didnāt even flinch.ā
āYou flinched so hard you almost somersaulted.ā
āSemantics,ā Barty grumbled.
āLet me see,ā you said, standing and stepping closer.
He hesitated only a beat before holding out his hand, palm-up. A faint red welt bloomed across his skin, angry and hot. Your fingers brushed against his as you took it, and you felt the brief hitch in his breath. You didnāt comment.
A whisper of magic curled from your palm, cool and quiet, threading over the burn like mist. The redness faded almost instantly, leaving only smooth skin and the faintest echo of heat.
Barty stared down at your work like it was a trick he couldnāt quite understand.
From the couch, Evan leaned forward, smirking. āYou just wanted an excuse to hold her hand.ā
āShove off,ā Barty muttered, pulling his hand back quickly, though not too quickly.
You shook your head, half-exasperated half-amused, and turned toward the hall. āIām going to wash up.ā
As you stepped away from the firelight, you caught movement in the corner of your eye. Regulus was still in his usual spotāhalf reclined in the reading chair by the window, a book open but forgotten on his lap.
His gaze was fixed on you, unreadable and unblinking.
You held it for just a moment, a soft smirk just barely twitching at the corners of your lips, before disappearing down the hall.
Unsurpisingly, both you and Regulus had more in common than youād care to admit.
Both the less outlandish sibling, the āquieterā onesānot necessarily in sound, but in presence. While James and Sirius blazed like bonfires, reckless and radiant, you and Regulus were something else entirely.
You didnāt need to shout to be heard. Youād both entered a room and the air seemed to still slightly, as if waiting to see what youād do.
Both of you understood what it meant to watch. To study a room before deciding what piece you wanted to play in it. You werenāt loud, nor silent just quietly unnerving. Regal, even.
There was a stillness about Regulus, an almost surgical precision to his movements and his clipped tone, like everything he did was measured twice before execution. He was painfully composed, almost uptight, his dry wit tucked behind an unimpressed brow and unimpeachable posture.
And where you differedāyou were made of wild starlight and strange tides, chaos in your blood even if it rarely cracked your veneer, eventhough you rarely indulged. And where Regulus pulled inward, you leaned out. You loved a little disorder, havocāa challenge; your eyes shining when something didnāt go to plan, smirking like you were always in on a secret.
There was a certain wickedness in your stillnessāone that made Regulus look twice. Then three times. Then constantly.
Each thing he learned about you surprised him more than the last.
So he decided, quietly and with a calm sort of resolve, that heād had enough of watching you from afar. He wanted a closer look.
The first time was in the library.
You were tucked into the corner of a row, arms full of books, hair falling across your face as you read the spine of a heavy tome. You didnāt notice him at firstāor maybe thatās just what he told himself, though he shouldāve known better. Regulus moved with the silence of a shadow, but when he was only inches away and just about to speak, your voice floated out, lightly entertained:
āPlanning to sneak up on me, Black?ā
He blinked, lips parting in the barest hint of surprise. āI wasnātāā
Without sparing him a glance you handed him the book at the top, and he took it instinctivelyāletting his fingers linger on yours just that bit longer than necessary. And you held in a quirk of your brows, the squint of your eyesāmaking a mental note.
Because Regulus was nothing if not purposeful.
He didnāt say anything else at first, only helped, taking the weight from you and beginning to shelve them wordlessly. There was a momentājust before he reached for the last oneāwhere his fingers paused. The cover was worn, clearly read many times.
A Muggle myth. One of his favourites, though no one knew that.
His hand hovered just a little too long, thumb brushing over the faded title.
āWhat did you think of the ending?ā you asked suddenly, your tone soft but cutting through the quiet like a quill to parchment.
He almost stammered, nearly asking how did you know? But caught himself, clearing his throat before replying. āTragic. I liked it.ā
You tilted your head, teeth sinking into your bottom lipāscanning his faceāsomething glinting behind your eyes that he couldnāt quiet put his finger on.
The way the corners of your lips threatening to curve into a smile, had him struggling to swallow, voice honeyed in his earsāāOf course you did.ā
And you were gone, just like that, leaving him standingāears hot, brain playing your voice, your smile on loop.
Regulus prided himself in his ability to read a person, and yet with youāevery interaction left him more confused, more intrigued, more captivated. There was some sort of riddle about you, something flickering in the depths of your eyes that made him want to unravel itāyou.
The next time he saw you, youād agreed to meet after his Quidditch practice to finish a joint assignment for Potions. Waiting just outside the changing rooms, arms crossed loosely over your chest, leaning against the cool stone wall with your bag slung over one shoulder.
The first person out wasnāt Regulus, but Bartyālips splitting into a wide smirk like heād been expecting to see you there.
āWell, well,ā he drawled, striding over with no shame, his hair a windswept mess and his jersey clinging to his frame. Immediately he closed in on you, arm slinging lazily over your shoulders, a light scent of cigarettes and oak filling your nose.
āTo what do I owe the pleasure, pretty?ā
Groaning, your nose crinkling at the contact, you didnāt push him off thoughāāYouāre sweaty, Junior,ā
He only leaned in closer, grin laced with mischief, letting his breath fan over your jaw. āYou love it.ā
āI love showers, actually. You should try one.ā
Tongue darting out to wet his lips, his eyes flickered across you face, the corners of your lips fighting to stay downāeyes glimmering with that twinge of defiance that had him only smirk even widerāāOnly if you come with.ā
Your brow cocked up slightly, narrowing your eyes as your plucked his arm off of you, placing gently back by his sideāpalms still wrapped around his wrist. He watched your movement eagerly, the smirk that was already etched onto his lips, adopting a positively wolfish quality when you leaned up into himālips almost brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered.
āYou wouldnāt last five minutes, Junior,ā
Pulling away just as quickly as you came in, leaning back against the wall leisurely, rolling your eyes at the way Barty scanned your figureāadamās apple bobbing in his throat.
Then the door opened again, still not Regulus.
āEvan,ā you called sweetly, ācome collect your lost dog before he starts shedding on me.ā
āCāmon, Crouchā Evan replied with a snort, catching him by the collar and dragging him off. āLeave her alone before you melt her into the floor.ā
Barty turned just before they were out of sight, voice loud despite the distanceāplayful, āMiss you already, Treasure!ā
For a few more minutes you waited, the corridor quiet now except for the flickering of enchanted sconces and the distant echo of voices. When Regulus finally emerged, his tie half-undone and hair damp around the edges, cheeks still reddened from the bite of the airāadjusting his uniform.
Heād already began the walk out, following after him, you hummed a small noāslipping through the hallways in the East Wing to find an empty classroom. It wasnāt hard task at all, settling in with the low scrap of the stool against the stone floor and opening your textbooks.
As he flicked through the pages of the book, your gaze dropped instinctively to his handsāhis knuckles bruised and bloodied, red blooming like petals across pale skin.
Without hesitation, you scooted forward in your seat and took his hand in yours.
āWe couldāve stopped by Pomfrey,ā you said, brows knitting slightly as you examined the scrapes.
He didnāt pull away. Just kept his gaze fixed on your hand, the way you held his delicately, and your fingers, the way they moved so gently across his skin.
āItās nothing,ā he muttered. āIāll heal.ā
A frown had etched itself onto your lips as you continued to inspect his hand, if you werenāt so engrossed in your assessment, you would have noticed the faint flush of his ears, or how his eyes flickered back and forth between your face and your hand.
Your motions were slow and attentive, pressing your palm along the bumps of his knucklesāthe heat of your skin ghosting over hisāthe simmer of magic was so soft he almost didnāt notice it.
There was a flicker of discomfort in his eyes as the wounds healed, but he didnāt flinch away.
And as your palm crossed over the edge of his hand, the final gash closed before his eyes, the skin was almost perfectly anew, as if nothing had happenedāthe only indication being a fading pink hue.
You continued to trace over the now-faint marks, fingertips ghosting along the healed bone, the tenderness of your touch leaving him slightly breathless.
āBetter,ā you whispered, half to yourself.
Regulus just stared at his hand when you let go, still feeling the echo of your touch, the whisps of your warmth. āThank you,ā he said finally, voice quieter than usual, lips still partedāstretching and rolling his fingers, watching the bones move comfortably under the skin, free of the light burning sensation.
When he looked up, you were already watching himāhead tilted, expression coolāneutral.
Sighing out a breath his lips were moving before he could stop them, āIāhow?ā
A quiet hum escaped your lips, hands crossing over your lap as you leaned into the wood of your chair, āWell, James and I were really clumsyāmore James than me, obviously,ā
Recollecting, your lips curled into a smile, shrugging slightly as you continued, āOur mum got tired of us walking around bruised and battered when she was busy, so she taught me how to heal without a wand,ā
The ghost of a smile almost twitched at the corners of his lips. Almost.
A short silence veiled the room as you fell into a working rhythm, mindlessly highlighting and note taking before the clattering of Regulusā quill against the table broke your concentration. Eyes immediately shifting up to himāhis lips pursed into a tightline but the words were already out. Blurted abruptly, cracking the silence just as his quill did.
Your brows raised into a suprised arch, confusion flickering across your face for brief moment, lips parting to respond. When he shrunk into himself slightly, shocked by his own outburst, muttering a small, āā¦please?ā under his breath.
The response fell heavy on your tongue, lips stretching into an amused smirk and huffed chuckle bubbled low in your chest.
The wood of the chair scrapped and screeched loud against the stone as you stood, wordlessly making your way around the table. His eyes tracked your movements, just barely becoming frantic in their flickering when you sat beside himāknees brushing, so close.
Regulus breath caught when your gazes met, heat prickling at the base of his neck, hands curling into half-fists on the table, and you kept your eyes on him. Even as you leaned over closing his books, making space on the deskāwarmth of your body vaguely gracing him.
He couldnāt bring himself to look away, tear his gaze from yoursāas much as it made his stomach flip from its quiet intensityāthe confidence that swam in your eyes. It sucked him in, making his adamās apple bob in his throat.
At the sound of a single galleon, lazily spinning on the table, you broke your stareāletting your sights fall onto the coin as it clattered to a halt. āHave you done wandless magic before?ā
He sucked in a deep breath, allowing his lungs to fill completelyāusing that time to regulate his heart that threatened to beat out of his chestābefore pushing all the air back out, forcibly rubbing his palms into the fabric of his robes.
āOnceāaccidentally,ā
With a nod, you hummed at his words, waiting for him to continue, eyes back on himāboring into the side of his head. āIāuh, got the lights to turn on when i couldnāt find my wand,ā
His eyes shift between you and the coin as you picked it up, rolling it between your fingers as your spoke, āOkay, lets start with something simple, shall we?ā The way you watched him made his mouth painfully dry, he couldnāt even trust his voice to answer, silently nodding at you words.
When he whipped his head towards to, lips parted in slight disbelief, protests creeping up his throatāRegulus clamped his mouth shut at the smile on your face, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners swimming with mischief as you leaned in. Placing the coin back onto the table with a soft clink, instinctively he held his breath, short-circuiting at the sudden proximityāso close he could smell you, a light vanilla scent with a twinge of maple and freshly burnt fire-wood.
You made him so nervous, he found himself a bit pathetic.
And the honeyed cadance of your voice did nothing but make his heart race faster than it already was, āJust breathe, Regulus. Focus on the coin and where you want it to moveārelax,ā
Gods, even the way you said his nameāhe almost lost the rest of your sentence, letting it echo in his mind over and over again.
When you reclined, leaning back into your chair, he felt the urge to mourn the loss of warmthārolling his shoulders back, focusing his gaze. Or at least, he tried to.
The coin sat quietly on the table, unmoved, unbothered by the sheer force of his will alone. His jaw tensed, brows pinched together, fingers twitching slightly as if the movement alone might spark the magic into life.
With a breath that was equal parts frustration and surrender, Regulus leaned back and exhaled sharply.
āCan youāā he muttered, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, ācan you not watch me?ā
You blinked, caught off guard. Then a quiet chuckle slipped from your lips as you raised your hands in surrender, the teasing edge of your smile tugging at the corners. āAlright, alright,ā you murmured, āSorry.ā Voice light and easy, but your eyes still sparkled with that same mischief that made his stomach clench. āDidnāt realise I was that distracting.ā
āYou are,ā he muttered under his breath, almost too quiet for you to hear.
Still, you didnāt comment on it. Instead, leaning in againāslowly, gentlyāand placed your hand on his shoulder, the heat of you palm instantly radiating through his robes, hairs raising down his spine. His eyes flicked to the contact, then to your face again. You were closer than before.
āYouāre thinking too hard,ā you murmured, your thumb brushing once over the fabric of his robes. āAnd youāre not breathing.ā
āI am breathing,ā he argued weakly.
You didnāt move your hand as you spoke again, your voice quieter now, velvet-soft and steady. āClose your eyes. Envision it. Just you and the coin. No pressure.ā Regulus hesitated for a beat, then followed your instruction, lids fluttering shut.
A few moments pass before your voice reaches his ears again, āCan you see it?ā and he nodded slowly, jaw tightening in focus.
āAlright,ā you continued, tone low almost hypnotic now, āimagine it moving. Just a bit. Like thereās an invisible string tugging it toward you.ā
He sucked in another deep breath, picturing it. The cool glint of the galleon. The subtle shine under the tinted light of the classroom. The gentle tug, like a current.
The softest sound of metal shifting against wood reached both your ears. His eyes shot open. It had movedājust barely a few centimeters, but undeniably there. His breath caught, disbelief flashing across his face.
When he turned to you, a bright beam had already split across your face, the sort of proud, delighted smile that hit him harder than the adrenaline from the magicāyour hand finally slipped from his shoulder, leaving a coldness in its wakeāfingers grazing the fabric of his robes. āYou did it!ā you said, eyes bright. āSee? Easy.ā
He let out a stunned breath, caught between awe and the bloom of success, heartbeat still rapid beneath his ribs. The warmth of accomplishment mingling with the quiet thrum of your presence, you. He was still processing when you reset the coin with a smooth sweep of your hand.
āAgain,ā you urged, nudging it into place. āTry further this time.ā
He nodded, more focused nowāconfident. When he closed his eyes again, he could still hear the echo of your voice in his head. Could still imagine your hand on his shoulder, steadingāwarm.
And this time, it slid fartherātoo far.
The coin zipped forward, clattered off the edge, and hit the floor with a metallic clink that echoed around the empty classroom. You let out a short burst of laughter, delighted, as his head dropped, a sheepish huff escaping him. But the tension had melted from his shoulders, replaced with slow blossoming of something lighter. Pride.
He bent down to retrieve it, fingers brushing the cool metal before placing it back on the table. You were already settling beside him again, the warmth of your presence sparking something just under his skin. āThis is the next step,ā you said, tapping the surface of the table.
Regulus was still watching you.
Then you extended your hand, with a single finger, you hovered just above the coinātwirling it in a slow, controlled motionāand like it had a will of its own, the coin lifted.
Spinning, following the gentle twirl of your finger. A slow spiral, then faster, gathering speed until it hovered in the air, dancing in place.
He was entranced, gaze stuck on the coin even as it settled down, coming to a graceful haltālanding perfectly in the center of the table. Heād known magic, of course he didābut it felt different, raw and effortless. The same way the flame had danced between your fingers in the common room the other nightāmindlessly intuitive, captivating. The coin spun like it wanted to please you. Everything did, it seemed.
He was still staring at the coin, hesitatingādoubt creeping in through the back of his mind, like an unwanted invasive parasiteāit barely flickered across his face. An almost imperceivable break in his expression, but you saw it.
Taking the coin again, you reached for his handālaying your palm flat under his, eyes flickering to his face for permission before continuing. When he didnāt pull away, you placed the coin in the center of his hand, the warmth of your skin on his made the sharp bite of the metal feel that bit colder against his hand.
It lifted and spun confidently against his skin, puppeteered by the twist of your finger.
āFeel that?ā Voice just above a whisper.
And he could feel it, a steady thrumming faintly circling in his palm, the buzzing with your magic. Swallowing before he spoke, a small āYeah,ā passing into the air between you.
āNow,ā you spoke quietly, catching his other hand and bringing it to hover above the coin. āPicture that same feeling at your fingertips. Like itās moving from your hand into the airālet it flow through you.ā
He concentrated. You stayed close. Hand still gently cradling his from below, a silent encouragement, he started mimicking the slow twirling motion in the space above the coin.
For a few long momentānothing.
Then, it happened. The coin jerked, slightly. Then again, shakily dragging to a stand. A tremble, stuttering before a spin. Jerky at first, but then it righted itselfāsmoothly gaining speed, falling into step with the command of his finger.
And your laughter, it rung through the roomāsoft, radiantāspilling from your chest with that same pride from before. He was too stunned to say anything. Blinking down at the coin with wide eyes, then looking to you, breathless, like he wasnāt quite sure it had actually happened. A smileāan actual, full smileāslowly curved onto his lips.
Rare and quiet, it lingered like a secret only the two of you shared.
The low buzz still resonating in his palm, the echo of your magic mingled with his own. The feeling of your handsāwarm, steady, coaxing power out of him with nothing more than your voice and a bit of stubborn charm.
And even as the coin fell suddenly into his hand, all he could do was look at you.
Relish in the way your eyes shone with a glimmer of excitement, how your hands curved around his, jogging them slightly in enthusiastic joy of his accomplishment.
The coin was stagnant in his palm, Regulus flipped your hands, surrendering the cold metal into yoursāand yet his hands lingering in your hold. He knew he probably should have moved his hands, the second he resigned the coin back into your possession; that was his cue. But he felt stuck, frozen under your sights.
Even as your lips moved before him, the words almost fell deaf on his earsātaking a few seconds to let them echo in his mind, how did it feel? He responded with a sighing breath, as if relinquishing all remaining tension in his body, āā¦Good,ā nodding his head as his continued, āreally good actually,ā
His small confession has your lips stretching even further along your face, and acknowledging hum rumbling in your throat as your touch slowly slipped away from his. Quietly tucking the coin into your bag before you started to pack up.
Just when you closed your notebook Regulusā voice glided across the air, just above a faint murmurāif the room had any other sounds than the quiet rustling of papers, you wouldnāt have heard it.
āYouāre a really good teacher,ā
A small huff of laugh passed through your nose, tucking your notebook under your arm as you stood and offered a small, warm smile. āItās easy,ā you said lightly, āwhen you have a good student.ā
Regulus shook his head faintly, a huff of something like disbelief leaving his lipsābut the curve of pride hadnāt quite left his mouth.
The two of you walked in comfortable silence through the halls, your steps in sync. His hands tucked in his pockets, your bag slung over your shoulder. The dungeons were dim, washed in the dull blue of lantern light, shadows stretching along the stone. He kept glancing sideways at you, like there was something still lingering on his tongue he hadnāt quite worked up the courage to say.
Just as you reached the bottom of the girlsā dorm staircase, your hand curling loosely around the bannister, Regulus spoke.
āWaitāā His voice was low, tentative. Pausing, you turned slightly. āHm?ā
He stood a few steps back, one hand curled around the strap of his satchel, the other still shoved in his pocket. āWould youā¦ā he paused, gaze dipping before finding yours again, more certain now. āWill you show me more?ā
There was a beat of silence.
You tilted your head, watching him closely, fingers curled loosely around the railing. Blinking once, twice, reading the sincerity in his face, the open wantānot desperation, harmless interest. He could see the cogs turning in your head just for a moment, before you murmured with a shrug, āYeah.ā
Descending the stairs again, you fell into step beside him as he led the way up the other staircase. The boysā dorm was quiet when you reached it, the door creaking softly open under his hand. The warm scent of parchment, cologne, and something distinctly him met you in the space.
You paused at the threshold.
It wasnāt unfamiliarāyouād lounged across Bartyās bed enough times, lazily flipping through books while he tore the room apart looking for a missing assignment. Youād perched at Evanās desk, rifled through his scribbled notes, borrowed a quill Bartyās nightstand. But never while Regulus was there. Youād never stepped into his space, not when he was in it.
He didnāt seem to notice your stillness. He moved through the room with ease, like you werenāt watchingādropping his books in a stack by the desk, slipping his robe off one shoulder, then tugging his jumper over his head. His shirt was rumpled beneath, sleeves already rolled up, collar slightly askew. You caught yourself staring.
He looked over his shoulder.
āYou coming in?ā he asked, voice a little lower now, pitched in that way it sometimes got when it was just you.
Without a word, you stepped in, toeing the door shut behind you and dropping your bag just beside the frame. You mimicked his motions easily, slipping off your jumper and draping it over the back of a nearby chair, fingers brushing absently along the edge of his desk as you walked further in.
It was a clean room. Structured, but not stiff. His bed was neat, the desk organised, quills and books perfectly aligned. But there were touchesāhuman ones. A framed photo of the Quidditch pitch mid-game, a green ribbon pinned to the wallāa burnished Slytherin scarf neatly folded at the end of his bed, and a single piece of parchment stuck to the wall above his workspace.
With a soft exhale, you flopped onto his bed, letting your arms stretch out as you gazed up at the canopy. The hangings were dark, almost velvet black, and they made the whole space feel smaller, quieter. Private.
Regulus glanced over, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. He returned to his desk, potion book in hand, eyebrows arched in mild disbelief.
āYou make yourself comfortable wherever you go, donāt you?ā he said dryly, a smirk threatening at the corners of his lips.
You didnāt replyājust smirked smugly, twisting your head into the sheets below, stretching your limbs out, still gazing up at the dark, heavy curtains draped above the bed. The movement made your shirt shift, riding up slightlyājust a touch above your waistband, exposing a sliver of skin, soft and warm under the low lamplightāthe stretch of your abdomen and the small indent of your navel.
He didnāt realise how long until you sat up, balancing your weight on one arm, eyes still wandering lazily over the ceiling.
āYouād think your parents taught you itās rude to stare,ā you said lightly. āBut you and your brother are just the same.ā
Regulus cleared his throat, heat blooming high on his cheekbones, but he said nothing.
Your attention drifted to the stack of books on his deskāand the singular piece of parchment, handwritten in a precise script, pinned above it.
āWhatās that?ā you asked, nodding toward it.
He followed your gaze. āA line from a poem.ā
You hummed, intrigued. āWhatās it say?ā
He crossed the room, settling a book on his night stand before he sat on the bed beside you.
You didnāt meet his gaze right awayāstill reclined, your hair spilling over the edge of the bed like ink, one hand absentmindedly twirling the galleon between your fingers.
Stretching out onto his stomach, bringing his chin on his forearm to look at you properly. He watched you for a moment. The way the gold shimmered in your grip, the way your mouth twitched with unspoken thought. You could feel his eyes on you, but you didnāt mention it.
When he finally spoke, his voice was softāgentle and low as he recited the line, something breathy and melodic in French. His accent was quiet but careful.
The coin fell still in your lap as you turned your head toward him.
āIt sounds pretty,ā you murmured. Your eyes traced his face, steady and curious. āWhat does it mean?ā His gaze didnāt leave yours, sucking in a breath through his nose, the mattress beside you dipped as he promped himself up onto his elbows, words slow and hypnotising in your ears.
āLet night come on bells end the day, the days go by me still I stayā
You blinked at him, for a long moment, just letting the words rest heavy in the air between you, and his adamās apple bobbed in his throat when you spoke, voice barely above a whisper, more breath than wordsāas if anything louder would crack the air as it stilled around you.
āIt sounds extra pretty in your voice.ā
Regulus swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. You were too close. Not close enough. The lamp behind you casted golden shadows across your face and your lips were slightly parted, just barely.
Before he could stop himself, the words were already tumbling out.
āI think youāre pretty.ā
You didnāt say anything, just kept your eyes on himāblinks slowly as you took in each feature.
And then he was leaning in. Slowly, but not hesitantlyāfingertips skimming along your jaw, guiding your face toward his with reverence more than boldness. He tilted your face toward him like heād done it a thousand times before.
The ghost of a smile tugged at your lips, and as he got closer, you hummed, tone somewhere between amusement and a quiet gentleness, āSuch high praise,ā Gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips one last time before his mouth was on yours.
Regulusā lips brushed yours with a delicate sort of caution, like he was afraid to startle the moment. His hand stayed warm at your jaw, thumb ghosting along the edge of your cheekbone, grounding himself in the quiet thrill of the contact.
When you kissed him back, slowly, deliberately, and it was like you lit a fuse under his skin. He moved closer, shoulders angling toward you, the hand on your jaw trailing downāfingers curling gently around your neck, not possessive, but fervored.
There was nothing rushed about it. Only the press of mouths and the occasional, breathless hitch of air as your noses brushed and he tilted his head, deepening the kiss slightlyāstill cautious, still a little hesitant.
But then then he heard itājust barely there, a small breath of contentment through your nose as your fingers slid up the front of his shirt, curling into the fabric.
His lips moved with more intent now, more certainty, like heād been holding back and couldnāt anymore. He tasted like peppermint and something you couldnāt quite place, and every time he pulled away even a fraction, he came right backādrawn to you like the pull of gravity.
Somewhere in the flurry of warmth and movement, the air around you shifted.
The ones above his bed rustled faintly, and then, slowly, they began to closeānot all the way, but just enough to wrap the two of you in the hush of privacy. The dark velvet swept inward in a lazy draw, like someone had tugged gently at invisible strings. The air around you seemed to slow, thick with suspended magic and the soft scent of something like cedar and parchment.
Pulling back from the kiss, just barely, your lips brushing his as a breath of laughter escaped you. The kind of soft, genuine giggle that bloomed right in your chest and spilled out in surprise. Your forehead dropped back lightly against the pillow as you whispered, voice honeyed with delight, āDid you justā?ā
He didnāt say anything at first. But there was the faintest flush at the tips of his ears, even as the corners of his lips twitched in a sheepish smile. You cupped his jaw gently, brushing your thumb along the edge of his cheek as you teased with a squint of your eye, voice low and fond, āAlready showing off.ā
He just huffed a laugh, dipping his head slightlyāforehead pressing to yours, breaths mingling in the narrow space between you. His hand found your waist again, sliding over your hip to pull you closer, until your bodies were all but tangled together in the middle of his bed.
Really looked at youāeyes searching your face, the softness of your features in the low dorm light, the flush on your cheeks, the swollen curve of your lips, still flushed lightly from his kiss. His thumb brushed your waist absently, reverently, like he was trying to memorise the moment through touch alone.
You blinked up at him, slightly breathless, lips curving into that small smileāthat quiet, knowing oneāthat had his pulse quickening.
āHow long have you been waiting to do that?ā Voice just above a whisper.
His answer was just as quiet.
You didnāt say anything, you didnāt have to.
Because then his lips were on yours again, more insistent this timeāhungry but still careful, still delicate. Like he was trying to learn the shape of your mouth with his own. His hand slid to the small of your back, curling to bring you even closer, your chest brushing his with every inhale.
Dinner came and went. Neither of you moved.
Body sprawled across the bed, head in Regulusā lap, legs stretched out and one arm flopped over your middle lazily. His hand drifted idly through your hair, almost absentminded in its rhythm, as he spokeāquiet and thoughtful, voice lilting into stories you never expected him to share.
He told you about how he hated summer, because his skin burned too easilyāhow the Black family manor always smelled like dust and old magic. How he and Barty used to sneak wine from the cellar and sit on the roof, trying to name constellations. How his favourite book growing up wasnāt even magicalāit was a Muggle text he smuggled in and read by candlelight.
You blinked up at him with a soft smile, utterly content, not interruptingājust listening.
For a man youād once believed was of few words, he sure had a lot to say.
Not that you werenāt complaining.
There was something soft about him nowālooser. Less controlled. Like the tightly wound strings he kept knotted around himself had started to loosen just enough to let you in, like heād been waiting for the the chance to bare himself. And Merlin, he was affectionate. Not in the loud, boisterous way others mightāve been. But with soft hands and stolen glances. A touch at your hip, the gentle brush of knuckles down your arm. Aching for contact in any form, so careful about how he was gave and received it, like it could be torn away at any given moementāstill so foreign, even in his own mind.
Your thumb traced slow circles into his knee as you murmured, āCan you read the line again? From the poem?ā
Regulus looked down at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He nodded, brushing a piece of hair from your forehead before turning toward the parchment pinned above his desk. He recited it again in that soft voiceālow and smooth, almost like a lullaby.
You closed your eyes, humming in contentment.
When he finished, you whispered, āLemme show you something.ā
And before he could ask, your hand curled into a fist. You held it up between you both. His brows furrowed slightly, watching with interest.
Then, you slowly unfurled your fingersāand from the centre of your palm, a small bluebell flower sprouted, delicate and glowing faintly with the magic that coaxed it into being.
āThis,ā you whispered, eyes flickering with warmth and voice like a secret, āis what I think of when I hear your voice.ā
For a long moment, Regulus didnāt speak.
The shock in his eyes wasnāt loud. It was quiet and still, like everything else about him. But it was there. Etched into the way he looked at youānot just at the flower, but at your face. Your expression, the tenderness written across it with no ulterior motive, no mischief behind your eyes. No teasing lilt in your tone.
And he didnāt know what to do with it.
His fingers reached out gently, brushing the fragile petals like they might dissolve under his touch. And when he looked back at you, his voice was barely above a whisper.
āYou really are something,ā he said, with a kind of awe that made your stomach twist in a way you werenāt prepared for.
Covering the sudden flutter of your chest with a scoff and biteless roll of your eyes. You didnāt give him the chance to say anything more, before you sat up abruptly, hair whipping slightly at your speedāmovements fluid and unbothered as the mattress dipped under the concentrated weight of your knees.
Regulus frozen against the headboard, wide-eyed when your leg swung over his middleāsettling on his lap in a straddle that was far too flippant. His hands hovered awkwardly at first, unsure where to settleāeventually, they found your hips, fingers curling there hesitantly.
The small smirk on lips only widenedāat his obvious flush, relishing in the way the blush crept up his neck and spread across his cheeks.
āRelax,ā you teased, brushing your fingers through his dark curls, tucking and retucking the strands behind his ear like you were sculpting something. And then, you nestled the bluebell flower in the space youād createdāright behind his ear.
āThere,ā you said with a proud grin, leaning back slightly to admire your work. Your hands slid down his neck, wrists resting lazily on his shoulders as you laced your fingers behind him, just barely hovering over his surely goosebump ridden skin. Tilting you head, you let your gaze rake over him like you were evaluating an art piece.
āI think blue might be your colour, Reg.ā
Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and you subtly shifted in his lapācloser, pressing into him with purpose. Regulus huffed a small scoff, finally finding a bit of his footing again, though his voice was still slightly strained. āMust you always be this brazen?ā
You shrugged innocently. āItās fun having people on edge.ā
He hummed lowly, eyes flickering with something darker nowāhis grip tightening slightly on your hips. āReally?ā
You leaned forward with a smirk, lips brushing his as you replied in a hushed, mocking whisper, āReaaaally.ā
That was all the prompting he needed.
His mouth met yours with vigor, kissing you like he couldnāt help it. Like heād been waiting to. Desperate, yet controlled. His hands squeezing at the flesh of your waist as he pulled you closer, chest pressing flush to his, heat blooming between you, smiling into the kiss.
Pulled back slightly, lips still grazing his, and whispered against his mouth, āYou must like brazen then.ā
Actually grin. Wide and rare and perfect.
His hands gripped your waist more firmly as he kissed you again, feverish now, all slow control forgotten in favour of something more frantic and yearning. The kind of kiss that stole the air from your lungs and made time slip sideways.
So engrossed in each other, you didnāt hear the door creak open.
Didnāt notice the soft shuffle of footsteps.
But the moment the familiar sound of Bartyās voice filled the room, everything stopped.
āI brought teacakes,ā he called out lazily from the other side of the dorm, ābecause you missed supper. I figured you were sulking or somethingāā
You and Regulus froze mid-kiss.
Legs still straddled across his lap. His hands halfway up your back. The flower still behind his ear.
Regulusā eyes flew open. Your hand slapped over your mouth to muffle a curse.
āI left extra lemon ones, sinceāwait.ā
Bartyās voice was closer now. Suspiciousāāā¦Why are your curtains closed?ā
Regulus was already looking at you, panicked. You swatted his arm sharply when he didnāt say anything, eyes wide and insistent. āWas Potter here?ā Barty asked, a little louder this time.
āSheāuhāā Regulus stammered. āShe was here. Earlier.ā
He never stammered. And now Barty definitely knew something was off. There was the unmistakable sound of someone standing up. Then footsteps. Getting closer.
Bartyās voice was cool and skeptical. āSoā¦she was here earlierā¦ā
He paused just outside the curtain.
āā¦and just left her bag behind?ā
Your eyes widened in horror. Your bag. You could envision where youād left itāsitting in plain view.
A pained expression split across your face as Regulus turned to you with a look that screamed, what do we do??
Because the curtain was already being drawn back.
Regulus didn't move. Neither did you.
Time seemed to stall between one breath and the next, and there was Bartyāstanding there with a half-eaten lemon teacake in one hand, his brows slowly climbing higher and higher as he took in the sight before him.
You, still straddling Regulus.
Regulus, pink-faced and looking about two seconds from imploding.
And the flower, still tucked delicately behind his ear.
He gaspedāactually, audibly gasped, clutching his chest as if you'd physically wounded him. āTreasure,ā he breathed, eyes wide and betrayed, āI cannot believe you traded me in for Black.ā
You groaned. āJunior.ā
āNoādonāt you Junior me,ā he said, stepping back like your words had scorched him, pressing a hand against the curtains pillar for support.
You slid off Regulusā lap in a single, painful motion, trying to maintain any shred of dignity, which was difficult with your hair mussed and your shirt slightly rumpled from where Regulus had been clutching at the back of it.
Regulus didnāt even try to salvage anything. He just stared at the ceiling like he was mentally calculating how fast he could die and be buriedāred down to the collar of his shirt.
āI thought we had something, Treasure,ā Barty continued with a theatrical sniff, flopping onto his bed. āA shared love of mild chaos, midnight escapades, and morally ambiguous hexes.ā
You just rolled your eyes. āOh, please.ā
He stared at the ceiling, hand still on his chest. āIām heartbroken.ā
āYouāre eating a teacake.ā
āIām grieving, let me be.ā
And then, his voice softened a little, still dramatic but now with an edge of sincerity. āI meanā¦ obviously everyoneās had a crush on you, but I didnāt think heād be the one to do something about it.ā
You blinked, head whipping to Regulus, eyes narrowing. āYouāre not denying it.ā
He just shrugged lightly, like he didnāt see the point.
Bartyās laughter was smug as hell. āSee?ā he said, sitting up.
Regulus groaned softly beside you. āIs this going to end soon?ā
Barty glanced between you both, a wicked little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. āSo tell me,ā he said, casually now, propping himself up on one elbow, āis this a new study method? Because I mustāve missed this chapter in Advanced Charms.ā
āNo, noāreally, Iām curious,ā he said, waving his teacake for emphasis. āDo you rate each otherās technique? Is snogging now a core requirement for N.E.W.T. preparation?ā
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying very hard not to laugh. It didnāt help that Regulus looked like he was actively contemplating vanishing spells, dropping his head into his hands.
Then he softened again, leaning his chin into his palm as he watched the two of you. āFor what itās worth, Regā¦ you look good like this. Like an actual person instead of a walking anxiety spell.ā
āI hate you,ā he muttered, hands slipping from his face to reveal a withering look.
Barty beamed. āThatās more like it.ā
With a smug little wave, Barty finally stood, sauntering backwards toward the door with his usual flair.
āDonāt do anything I wouldnāt doāwhich, to be fair, is a very short list. Night, lovebirds.ā
