☆ puree fluff and onlyy fluff ; drabble , blurb ; i'm feeling soo much better noww !!
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The Slytherin common room was hushed, the dim green lanterns casting ripples of light across the walls as the Black Lake swayed outside. Most students had gone to bed, leaving only a handful of tired seventh-years scattered about with parchment and half-finished essays.
You sat curled up in the farthest corner, your blanket draped around your shoulders like a shield. A pile of books leaned precariously beside you, though you hadn’t touched them in at least an hour. Your eyelids drooped, head bobbing slightly, when a voice broke the quiet.
“You’ll fall asleep there and wake up with ink stains all over your face.”
You blinked, finding Regulus Black standing a few feet away, his arms crossed. His expression, as usual, was carefully neutral, though his eyes betrayed a softness that only slipped through when no one else was looking.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” you mumbled, straightening. “I was…resting my eyes.”
He arched an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth threatening to curl into a smirk. “Resting your eyes with your quill still in your hand? Ingenious.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “What are you doing awake, then? Don’t tell me Regulus Black stays up late to…what, scold people for studying?”
“Hardly,” he said, settling down beside you with the smooth grace he seemed to carry into every movement. His shoulder brushed yours, and the contact sent warmth rushing up your arm despite the chill of the dungeons. “I came to make sure you didn’t work yourself into a collapse. You’ve been at it since dinner.”
You tilted your head at him, amused. “And you’ve been keeping track?”
A pause. His gaze flickered toward the firelight, his jaw tightening ever so slightly before he answered, “I notice things.”
That was Regulus for you. Always careful, always composed, but with these quiet admissions that slipped through in moments when no one else could hear.
“Well,” you said, nudging his knee with yours beneath the blanket, “I suppose it’s very noble of you, watching over me like that.”
For a moment, his lips twitched again like he might actually smile—until instead, he tugged the blanket from your shoulders and draped it over both of you. “You’re freezing,” he murmured.
“I’m fine,” you protested weakly, though your heart hammered against your ribs.
Regulus gave you a look that brooked no argument, one you’d seen him use on underclassmen and professors alike. But then it softened, and he leaned a little closer, lowering his voice as if the words were only for you.
“You push yourself too hard. If you don’t slow down, you’ll burn out.”
You wanted to protest again, to say something light or teasing, but the genuine worry in his tone made your throat tighten. Regulus Black didn’t show concern often. It was rare, like sunlight breaking through clouds, and it always caught you off guard.
“Maybe,” you admitted softly. “But it feels easier when you’re here.”
His eyes snapped to yours, wide for just a fraction of a second before his composure returned. He didn’t answer immediately; instead, he reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead with surprising gentleness. His touch lingered, warm and careful, as if you were something fragile.
“I suppose,” he said finally, voice low, “that I can stay a little longer, then.”
The two of you sat there in silence, the blanket cocooning you against the cool dungeon air, the fire crackling quietly across the room. For once, neither of you needed words. His presence was enough—the steady weight of his shoulder against yours, the way his gaze softened when he thought you weren’t looking, the quiet promise that, even in the stillness of the night, you weren’t alone.
And when you finally let your head rest against his shoulder, Regulus didn’t move away. Instead, he shifted just enough to keep you comfortable, his fingers brushing lightly against your hand beneath the blanket until they laced with yours.
For someone who rarely let himself have softness, Regulus held onto that moment like it was something he’d never let go.
