@andyxblack
Regulus wasn’t sure which hurt more after his little chat with Lupin: his wrist or his pride. Probably his pride, he didn’t take lightly to people just taking things that belonged to him and then smacking his head like they were friends. The absolute fucking nerve of him made Regulus’ blood boil and he found himself wishing he had dug the knife into his stomach. It was going to be taken from him anyway, by Lupin or by a professor and at that point, he’d rather have injured Lupin. His house would have recovered in terms of house points, Lupin would have gotten the message that he wasn’t free to speak to Regulus whenever he damn well pleased and, as an added bonus, he’d get to watch Sirius’ reaction to one of his friends get hurt. That would have made it all worth it in his eyes.
The Hog’s Head was a little more lowkey than the Three Broomsticks. The barkeep was more likely to just assume that everyone was of legal age, because there was no money to be made in turning customers away. And Regulus didn’t even enjoy drinking. He found it vile, truthfully, and hated how people got sloppy after they drank too much, how they simply let their secrets spill out and would be in horrible pain the next day.
It didn’t stop him from drinking. He could control himself, better than most of the unfortunate students he called peers. Sitting in the low lighting of the pub, he drank his red currant rum, trying to ignore the taste and the burn in his throat. It was an even pay off for drowning the butterflies he got in his stomach whenever he replayed the reaction with Lupin in his head. Fucking Lupin.
Glancing up as the door open, he sighed seeing his cousin walk in. Hopefully he would blend in with the shadows, but there was a general piece of advice people should cover their faces at the Hog’s Head and he regretted not following the advice when she came over. “What do you want, Andromeda?” he asked, punctuating the question with another sip of rum.
