“i’m staring at her, like i wanna get hurt”
pairing ; regulus black x reader
a/n ; i wanted to make this a hot little scenario inspired by obsessed by olivia rodrigo then i got carried away and started inevitably writing angst. reader’s last name is marlowe. btw comments give me life ; hope you guys enjoy <3 !!
3.7k words
You’d gotten over her already, of course. It’s been two months since the blown-up, messy breakup, and rumours were already floating around that Pansy had gotten herself a new boyfriend from that snake house of hers. All the better, you reassured yourself. No more sneaking into the dungeons every other night just to see her, when your towers were much better anyway.
In fact, you were so over her that it didn’t even affect you to see her black, perky bob in the narrow corridors when you switched classrooms to get to your respective lessons. No, you were nothing but sanguine when her figure came into your sight, arm latched tightly on the tall, raven-haired boy next to her, low box heels clicking in that beat that you were once so familiar with.
And you definitely didn’t seethe as you caught the view of them sitting side-by-side at the Slytherin table. Pansy spooning food onto her boyfriend’s dish - What was he, a child? You scorned - as he held himself with an effortlessly relaxed poise, gaze darting with the signature unreadable, intelligent grey gaze, lips quirked in a vaguely bored but amused curl. Regulus Black. The infamous, unreachable player that Pansy was practically attached at the hip with now, and your former friend who has been one of your closest, until you had ended the friendship in an argument two years ago. Of course it had to be him.
Every night, your friends tug at your elbow. There she goes again, they sigh. When was this going to end? Realistically, it wasn’t her that you were caught up on about— it was more of the sentient that she had left you instead of the other way around. The pretty ornament he was now that she had snagged herself incensed you more than the actual breakup did— and for a Raven, you were surprisingly competitive.
Bitterness from how Regulus seemed to overshadow you wasn’t an easy thing to accept, and you were content with staring at them and stewing up insults until it made you feel better. Seriously, how were they a better couple than you were with Pansy? They practically looked like siblings, both black-haired Europeans, you fumed.
God knows how long this one-sided petty rivalry would’ve lasted— Had Regulus not turned his gaze on you last Tuesday night. Raising his eyebrows, that bastard had the nerve to smirk at you, all while Pansy attempted to bat her eyelashes at him and get his attention with no avail. Clink went your cutlery as you dropped it on your porcelain plate, causing it to tip over and spill a couple grains of risotto rice on your impeccably ironed, slate-grey skirt. You cursed, snapping out of the much-too-prolonged period of eye contact as you hastily waved your wand, removing the damp stains before they were absorbed into the fabric.
Lifting your eyes again, he was no longer looking at the Ravenclaw table at all. Must’ve been your imagination.
Disgruntled, you scowl as you tear your already-cold dinner roll into small, squished pieces, making it the undeserving subject of your irritation.
Noticing your unconscious motions, a smile grows on Pandora’s face and she jabs an elbow into your stomach. “I mean, you do have a type,” She says, grinning at you suggestively. You can’t help it when your cheeks flush red and her smile widens. “Look at the oh-so-stiff and stony Y/N. Blushing! Over Pansy’s new boyfriend, of all people!”
“Asshole. He’s the same as ever, insolent and starting what he can’t finish,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. But you’d be lucky if this were the end of what he had so tauntingly started.
-
You barely remembered that subtle, coy look that he had thrown at you as exam season approached. Of course, that was until Evan casually brought him up as you two waited in line to file into your next class. You two had become fast friends during your relationship with Pansy, and fortunately, the breakup hadn’t affected the easy bond that you shared.
Shifting the books you held to your chest, you grimaced at the weight of the combined volumes. “Pansy still on your head about talking to me? You know, I barely see you anymore. Now that I’m implicitly banned from your dungeons.”
He snorts, casting a glance at the arched stone ceiling. “She doesn’t own the common room, you know. You’re vastly overestimating her ability to hold a grudge.”
At that, you fake a gasp. “Oh, forgive me for not waltzing into another house’s common room that I only ever entered anyway to see my now ex-girlfriend!”
Evan rolls his eyes and elbows you, causing you to lose your hold on a book with a yelp. “Funny. You’re hilarious.”
You straighten, regaining your balance and assuming a purposefully deadpan expression. “I know. Your influence, obviously.”
He ignores you, continuing on. “What’s the deal with your whole… situation now anyway? I swear, it gets more complicated, like, daily. Worse than Barty and I, which, you know, I assumed to be quite impossible.”
Confused, you level him a glare. “What? You’re making fun of me. Nothing’s going on. I’m still miserably single.”
“No, I mean— not Pansy. Regulus. What’s the deal with you and him? Some kind of weird , competitive history? At this point, he cares more about you than her. Always going on about— when Pansy’s not here, obviously—“
He continues as you gape at him—
“—you this and that. Y/N wrote this article when she was sixteen, Y/N went to this gala last Christmas wearing this dress by some up-and-rising designer. Oh, here’s a good one, I can’t believe you never told me. Y/N was an extra in a film, some appearance at a ball or whatnot.”
At your baffled look, his grin finally slides.
“..Oh. I thought you knew.”
The bell rings, and your class files into the room after the teacher enters. You give him a stern stare as you set your books down on the left side of the desk, Evan sliding into his seat beside you sheepishly. “You’re telling me everything, Rosier,” you hiss. “All of that. Don’t even think of keeping anything from me. Or I’ll tell Barty you—“
“Merlin, fine!” Cutting you off as soon as he heard Barty’s name, he starts his rapid yet hushed recounting as you flip open your textbooks halfheartedly, scarcely able to tune into the teacher’s monotone droning.
“It started, like, two months ago. Before the exams. I’m pretty sure it was Friday because he never has fun on weekdays, or he’s off liasoning with Pansy at God knows where. Anyway, we were all pretty high in the boy’s dorm off Barty’s stuff, so it’s a bit foggy and I don’t really remember…”
You glare at him as he trails off, trying to avoid the topic. Don’t you dare keep this from me, silently spread all over your face.
“Stop that look,” he responds defensively, one hand anxiously spinning a quill. "It's true. Okay, so it was just the three of us and getting high makes me fucking horny. Don’t look at me like that, Y/N. I was all over Barty—“ he falters, cheeks flushing scarlet— “and Reg was third-wheeling. He was being so annoying about it, glaring at us and all that, so fuck him because it isn’t a crime to kiss my ridiculously hot boyfriend. So I told him to go find Pansy and make out with his own girlfriend and quit bothering us.”
“And then he scoffed at me, said that she was constantly all over him and he didn’t really want her, or something like that. Oh, I distinctly remember thinking that was kind of unfair to Pansy. Then he said that he had no idea how Pansy ever landed you, and why you ever stuck with her. Yeah, we were so high. Then he went quiet and we pretended that never happened the next morning.”
Evan goes silent for a second and the teacher’s voice fills the gap left by the absence of his voice. “Except, obviously, Barty and I didn’t really forget and neither did Reg. I think we all know except Pansy. I thought he was jealous at first, because he asked me one day if you had slept on the right side of Pansy’s bed and if you had a pet cat or something, because there was fur all over the blankets. I told him how would I know? I’m pretty sure you don’t have a cat, right?”
You grimace. You were the cat, in fact, a savannah cat too large and noticeable for your liking. As a result, you weren’t able to transform often and not many people knew of your ability to.
”Also, he keeps asking Pansy about you. I think she finds it irritating as hell, and she knows you two used to be, like, best friends, right? Even though you were obviously too young to be more, and everybody knows you argued with him and hate each other now. But still, it’s clear you’re on his mind more than you should—“
”—and more than Pansy would like. So I thought you had something going on.”
Stealing a glance at your carefully controlled expression, Evan winces. “Don’t be mad at me. I’m just telling you what I know.”
You shake your head. “Yeah, Evan. It’s not you I’m pissed at.”
Breathing out shallowly, you cast your venomous gaze at the ceiling. “Regulus fucking Black. Can’t keep his too-good nose out of anyone’s business.”
Always more trouble than he was worth. You’d get him back later, you swore.
-
Being the overthinker that you are, you took a grand total of two weeks to draw up the plans on your scheme, aiming to gauge the exact temperament Evan claimed Regulus was currently in. Essentially, it consisted of you becoming a slinking cat and sneaking into his dorm room to claw around. Knowing that his habit of keeping the most meticulous notes on everything had never died out, you hoped to search for hints that he did, indeed, have an eye on yourself.
Unfortunately, the plan was as sparse as a harvest after a drought. For one, the probability of Regulus forgetting that you could take the form of this large, conspicuous forest cat was very, very low, taking into account how often you’d take this form to sneak into his rooms for purposes other than the current when you were… familiar. Not to mention, you did not have access to his schedule and you could not count on when he would be in or out of his room. Still, unable to get him out of your mind, you conspired to carry out this plan with no luck but a sheer force of will.
The night you chose was one after the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. The game was relatively predictable, Slytherin winning with Regulus catching the Golden Snitch within the first half an hour; you tried not to feel anything about that victory, and pointedly turned away with a disgusted eye roll as Pansy instantly threw herself onto Regulus after he landed on the pitch. It was as sure as the sun rising in the East, and setting in the West, that the first and wildest party of the season would be thrown in the dungeons that night.
Regulus would be in the centre of attention, you reasoned, sloppy hands all over him and his victory; he would be drunk, high, or both, most certainly occupied and unlikely to return to his room for sleep of all activities. Thus, it was the perfect time for you to sneak in when the party was in full force.
It was easy to get into the common room. All kinds of people were going in and out; alcohol was brought in by the crateful, its effects clear in those leaving the doorway, with beer splashed over their unbuttoned school shirts and faces flushed rosy. Barely anybody paid attention to some animal slinking into the party, assuming you to be an exotic pet someone had let loose in their intoxication.
When some drunken boy foolishly tries to lift you up, you hiss at him and twist wildly, leaving an angry red scratch on his forearm. Yowling (rather like kin, registered your feline mind) he dropped you abruptly and set to stemming the bleeding. You pay him no heed and continue your determined pad to the downwards staircase to the boys’ dormitory. Collateral damage, it’d be worth it.
Getting in was easier than you had anticipated; the door was unlocked, and people were milling around the doorframe, red-cheeked boys tugging giggling girls into their rooms. Mewing softly and slinking around their ankles, you pad forward until you reach the dorms of the 6th year boys, by where it had gotten quite quiet, far from the revelry of the celebration. You paw an abandoned cigarette butt on the ground, stepping forward quietly to sniff the scents on the floor to determine which door belonged to whom.
The faintest hint of smoke, coupled with a note of the floral gardenia and a base of cedarwood. And your sharp feline nose could never miss that touch of sea salt; how much it cost to cultivate a scent this intricate, you had always wondered. That was, with no doubt, Regulus’ room. You follow the trail to a door, delighted that your plan had gone so smoothly so far, stopping to preen in satisfaction with yourself.
But your ears prick as you bend down to lick at your fur. The quiet was broken with the harsh sound of ripping paper, followed by a low curse and a crash of metal on the ground— all coming from the room you intended to enter, Regulus’ room. Your spotted fur standing on the end, the curiosity that came with being a cat compelled you to poke your head into the door and push the door wider with a paw.
There goes your plan. It was true, you mused in retrospect, when they say curiosity would kill the cat.
It barely took a moment as your eyes adapted to the dark room. It was barely-lit, with two scarce candles burning away at their ivory wax, one at the desk and one on the shelf at the foot of his desk. The Snitch, an embellished little golden orb with its wings still fluttering slightly, was discarded carelessly at a corner on the floor; and his jersey, miraculously pristine even after the match, was flung over the school-issued wooden chair. And there Regulus was, sitting on his bed, the shirt of his uniform with its top buttons undone and tie loose, making a stark difference from his usual, impeccably polished appearance on campus. There he was, eyes closed with a cigarette balanced between his fingers, decidedly not at the party whose central figure was supposed to be him.
That was clearly not the confident, taunting boy you were supposed to despite. In your feline mind, all you could recognise was his resemblance to that too-young boy you knew two years ago. Impulsively, you let out a soft meow and pad closer to where he was sitting.
His eyes snap open, the rest of his body deathly still. The surprise, and recognition, in his eyes were clear for a moment, and his jaw clenches as he exhales a stream of smoke. You fix your brown-eyed gaze on him, tilting your head. After a minute or two, he lets out a forced chuckle, diverting his sight to fix on the flickering flame of the candle on his desk instead.
”Hey, Marlowe. Long time no see. Guess you know what I’m up to, then, hmm?” He tosses a satin cushion from his bed to the floor, waving a vague hand at it. “If you’re going to invade my room, at least do it comfortably, yeah?”
You make a haughty sound and turn your backside to him, purposefully knocking away the pillow with your tail. Consequences be damned, you were going to confront him directly now.
Well, confront him as well as you could as a cat. And you were not going to take any bribes, no matter how comfortable or tasty, if you could not get an explanation for what he’d been doing the past few months.
He sighed. “Come on,” he hedged, voice worn down and tired. “It’s the one I brought over from the family estate. The one you liked. Not the scruffy school ones. And I think I have canned tuna somewhere around here. Just don’t make me talk.”
You mew and glance at him before quickly turning away again, curling down in a ball on the cold floor to avoid looking at him. Then even came some momentary doubt if you had found the correct boy after all. You were quite certain the boy you hated was arrogant, disrespectful and not at all.. weary, and drained. And in all the years you were in school, you had only ever known one thing to pierce past your infamous resolve: Regulus Black, back all the years ago.
And, well, maybe you would take some bribes. It really wouldn’t be easy to force him to talk after all.
Regulus plainly casts a gaze at you and swings his legs over the side of the bed, standing up to rummage through a cabin. Silently, he produces a can of tuna and pries open the metal lid. He balances it on a hand as he pushes over the stacks of research papers and books on his desk to clear a space for you, setting it down carefully. In a moment, you yield, uncurling from your position and jumping onto his desk to lap at the fish.
He watches you quietly, occasionally taking a slow drag of the cigarette. And, unconsciously, his free hand is stroking your tail gently, the satiny fur velvety beneath his fingers; and you’re purring softly, unable to withstand the sheer familiarity of the motion. It almost felt like a routine, one that had been abandoned for far too long. You don’t think, don’t move: If you did, you feared that this moment would be taken by history, robbed from the present like so many memories had been from before.
He breaks the silence cautiously. “..I still notice what you’re doing, you know. I read those journals you publish. Making formidable progress now, huh. I see your names on those reports; Y/N Marlowe. It’s very recognisable.”
He lifts his hand stiffly from your fur and rummages through a stack of papers inside a file on his desk. “I liked that analysis on the psychological control that uniforms brought for various sides during the war. I kept it, see. I reference it sometimes.”
You mew softly, feline eyes blinking at him. Tilt your head, as if to say, I thought you detested me. You’re with my ex, for heaven’s sake.
Regulus leans back on his bed, finally letting his shoulders fall back to release the tension. “I know what you’re trying to say. Firstly, I don’t. And even if I did, it’s still remarkable work that I wouldn’t ignore for the sake of our…” He winces- “…grudge.”
He continues to talk as you lower your head to lap at the can again. “It’s been a long time. I never meant to cut things off completely, Marlowe, I thought you’d come back. But I should’ve known that your pride was as formidable as… well, mine.”
A forced laugh. “As big as a scandal it could get in school back then, I remember. The whole school was buzzing about us. I hated it, the way they gossiped. I hated that I thought I didn’t know you enough to disbelief in the gossip. And now I don’t know you at all.”
He lifts a hand again to stroke your fur, eyes half-lidded, this time of his own accord. You stay perfectly still and he exhales forcibly and continues talking quietly.
”And Pansy. God, you have to know that I didn’t pursue her. She came after me, and I was lonely, so lonely. Everyone knows me for the farce I put on. So I thought I’d give it a chance, but she doesn’t know me. She only adores who she thinks I am. And she can’t let go of me, but I want to leave.”
Regulus lifts his grey gaze up to yours again. “That’s why I’m hiding, yeah? I’m just tired. I don’t wanna deal with those drunk assholes who just want to get all over me.”
He scoffs as you headbutt his hand away. “Don’t believe me if it doesn’t suit you. You’ve always been too stubborn for your own good, Marlowe. But I have no reason to jest about this, do I?”
You ignore his question, holding your head up regally and pushing the empty can to the side with a paw. The dump of information he’d just let loose on you is sheerly registered, what the fuck running through your head. He groans and swings his legs over the side of his bed to get up, picking up the can and tossing it into the bin. “Oh, Marlowe, I don’t even know if you understand what I just said. I’m talking to a cat for God’s sake.”
But even as a cat, you understood very clearly that you weren’t supposed to be here. You were supposed to spy on him for more material to hate, not soften at how vulnerable he looked at current, climbing back into bed without bothering to change and casting you a questioning look.
So, head still turned away, your paws still pad to the foot of his bed and you curled up into a furry ball, letting out a meow that somehow managed to come off as begrudging.
Regulus leaned forward. “If you’re going to stay, come closer, Marlowe. C’mon, star.”
And oh, you just hated the way the old nickname just rolled effortlessly off his tongue. You hated the way that you couldn’t resist, slinking in closer to splay yourself on top of his stomach to soak up the warmth during wintertime.
He finally let off a rare smile, letting a hand rest on top of your fur and closing his eyes. “Only for this night. Just like the old times. Don’t go, alright? Not until sunrise.”
You make no response and burrow into the blanket, dozing into a light slumber. Just like the old times, you would give yourself one night like this. And just like the old times, you were gone by morning.
