Our Brothers Are Dating… Should We?
regulus black x lupin!reader
synopsis: you and regulus are hopelessly in love, neither of you capable of admitting it. your older brothers, remus and sirius who are very much together, watch the pining with increasing amusement before deciding it’s time to knock some sense into you both and finally get you together themselves.
warnings: friends in love but in denial, so much fluff, misunderstandings, silent treatment, childhood friends to lovers, idiots in love, grumpy x sunshine, reg being a little shit, jealousy, regulus being possessive, scheming, a little angst, NSFW, smut, sub/dom, breeding kink, semi-public fucking, oral, harsh fucking, fingering, slight choking, dirty talk, overstimulation, spanking, bite marking.
w/c: 8.3k
a/n: this was 100% self indulgent! also please listen to Friends by Chase Atlantic when marked, it makes the scene way better ;) masterlist
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Remus and Sirius could never seem to stop watching you and Regulus from afar. It was an odd sight, even after all this time, to see their siblings so utterly entangled in each other’s company.
No matter how many afternoons passed like this, with you seated beside Regulus beneath the dappled shade of the courtyard trees, the picture never quite lost its strange allure.
Remus, in particular, always felt a quiet tug of wonder whenever his gaze drifted to you both.
You, his younger sister, whose heart had always seemed so open, so achingly bright.
And beside you, of all people, sat Regulus Black. Who so rarely let anyone breach the carefully built walls around him.
It still surprised Remus, no matter how many times he saw it, the way Regulus changed in your presence.
The shift was subtle but unmistakable, a softening in his expression, a quiet attentiveness in the way he leaned towards you.
His eyes, usually so cold and distant, seemed warmer when they lingered on your face. He spoke more easily with you than with anyone else, his clipped words touched with something that almost resembled tenderness.
And you, in turn, seemed utterly at ease beside him. Where others might have been intimidated by his silence, his sharp glances and sharper tongue, you only smiled, filling the spaces between his words with your own easy warmth.
And though it had once seemed strange to Remus, this pairing, he could no longer imagine it otherwise.
Sirius, of course, noticed it all as well. He often watched the two of you with a wide grin, elbowing Remus with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. "Look at them," he would murmur, voice low with amusement.
"So bloody obvious and yet so impossibly dense."
And Remus could only shake his head, a fond exasperation curling in his chest. For there was no denying it anymore. You and Regulus were in love.
Anyone with eyes could see it, could feel the invisible thread that bound you together, taut and shimmering with all that was left unsaid.
Yet somehow, you both remained oblivious to the truth of it. Friends, you called yourselves, though the word seemed a poor fit for what passed between you.
Friends did not linger in each other’s gaze quite so long.
Friends did not find excuses to brush fingers, to sit a little too close beneath the wide sky.
Friends did not look at each other the way you did, as though the world had narrowed to a single point and everything else had faded away.
It was almost maddening to watch. And yet, neither Sirius nor Remus could bring themselves to look away.
They had been here themselves, after all. They knew too well how love could creep in slowly, unnoticed, until it filled every corner of the heart.
They knew how blind one could be to one’s own feelings, how fear and uncertainty could bind the tongue and still the heart.
It ran in the family, perhaps. This stubborn obliviousness. This tendency to circle around love instead of stepping boldly into it.
So they watched. From beneath the archway, from across the courtyard, from the windows of the library. And with every glance they exchanged, with every sigh and shake of the head, a quiet resolve began to take root between them.
Because someone had to do something. Someone had to help you both see what was already written so clearly in every glance, every smile, every lingering touch.
And really, who better to take matters into their own hands than two Marauders, hopelessly in love themselves, determined to see their siblings find the same happiness?
Remus and Sirius shared a look. Then their eyes shifted to Barty, lounging nearby with that infuriatingly charming grin.
They didn’t say anything.
The idea came instantly. The execution would be easy. And with Barty involved, jealousy was practically guaranteed.
-
It had almost become a habit now, the way your afternoons led you here. The quiet comfort of the library’s farthest corner, a sun-drenched alcove of old wood and older books, always somehow waiting for the two of you.
No one really disturbed this place, and fewer still disturbed the pair of you when you were here, heads bent close over parchment and ink.
You sat with your chin propped in one palm, quill twirling idly between your fingers, the open pages of an Arithmancy text long abandoned in favor of quieter conversation.
Regulus sat across from you, sharp-boned and poised as ever, though the usual hard set of his mouth was softened now.
His hand moved absently, the tip of his quill tracing light, meaningless shapes in the margin of his notes. His gaze, though, was not on his work.
It was on you.
"Your hair is falling into your eyes again," he murmured, voice low and even, with a quiet patience that few others ever heard from him.
You blinked up at him, a little smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.
"Is it? Oh." You pushed the strands back clumsily with your fingers, only for them to tumble forward once more a moment later.
And then, without another word, Regulus reached across the table, slow and careful, brushing the stray locks gently behind your ear.
His fingers lingered for the briefest moment against your temple, the lightest of touches, and when he drew his hand back, something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
You smiled again, bright and unbothered, your voice a soft lilt that always seemed to wind beneath his defenses. "Thank you, Reggie!"
He only gave a faint incline of his head, as though it were nothing, though you noticed the way he lowered his gaze to his notes with a sudden, almost studious focus.
"You know," you said after a moment, voice bright with amusement, "you would probably get more studying done if you stopped doodling in the margins."
He gave a soft huff of breath, almost a laugh. "And you would probably get more studying done if you stopped daydreaming so much."
You gasped in mock outrage. "Rude."
"Entirely true," he replied smoothly, though there was a faint, fond curve to his mouth now.
Before you could retort, the distant thud of boots echoed through the stacks, followed by the low murmur of familiar voices.
"Oi, there you are," came Sirius’s voice, louder now as he rounded the shelves, Remus close behind him.
Regulus straightened in an instant, the soft warmth you had coaxed from him retreating as though a door had been quietly closed.
Remus and Sirius were an easy, familiar sight together. Remus with his gentle, thoughtful gaze, always steady, and Sirius with all his wild charm, half a grin playing at his mouth as he strode toward your table.
Remus’s eyes softened when they met yours. "We were looking for you," he said with quiet fondness, reaching to ruffle your hair with one large, calloused hand.
"You were supposed to meet us after quidditch."
You laughed, swatting at him playfully. "I forgot."
"She forgets everything," Sirius said cheerfully, flopping into the empty seat beside you, far too comfortable.
"Probably forgot we even existed. Here she is, holed up with my charming little brother, plotting who knows what."
Regulus gave him a look of cool indifference. "If we were plotting, you would not know about it."
"See what I mean," Sirius grinned, nudging you with his elbow. "Utter delight, that one."
You giggled softly, glancing between them. "Honestly, I am just trying to get through potions."
Remus settled beside Sirius, leaning comfortably into his side, fingers twining absently with his.
Sirius nudged you again. "And you dragged poor Reg into it with you? Cruel."
"I did not drag him," you said with mock primness, smiling at Regulus, who only inclined his head slightly, gaze unreadable once more. "He came willingly."
"I can hardly believe that," Sirius teased, though there was no real bite to his words. If anything, a note of genuine curiosity threaded through them.
Even now, after all these years, he still marveled quietly at the strange friendship that had grown between you and his brother.
Regulus remained silent, though something faint touched his eyes when he glanced your way.
Remus watched it all with a thoughtful expression, his gaze lingering on Regulus a moment longer than usual.
There was a quiet understanding in his eyes, an old awareness that never quite left him. He had always seen it, the way Regulus shifted when he was near you, the way your presence seemed to gentle him.
But as always, you seemed blissfully unaware of it.
And Sirius, ever impatient, could hardly help himself.
"You know," he began, voice bright with mischief, "we were just saying how you two spend more time together than anyone else these days. Should we be worried? Or are we finally going to admit that this is something more than just... studying?"
You laughed, shaking your head. "It is friendship, Sirius. Nothing more."
Regulus, for his part, said nothing at all, though a faint tension had crept into his shoulders.
Remus only smiled softly, squeezing Sirius’s hand in silent warning. Not too much, not yet. They would need more careful coaxing than that.
But as the four of you sat there in that sunlit corner of the library, conversation weaving around old books and quiet glances, the truth hung between you like the dust in the air. Obvious to anyone who cared to look.
And though you and Regulus remained blind to it still, there was a quiet certainty in Remus’s heart as he glanced at his sister, then at the boy who watched her when she was not looking.
It was only a matter of time.
“You know,” Sirius was saying, tone far too casual to be innocent, “if you keep sitting here in the dark with Regulus all day, you are going to forget how to have any fun.”
You looked up from your book, a small smile tugging at your mouth. “This is fun,” you replied lightly, voice warm with amusement. “Some of us do enjoy quiet, you know. And Regulus is the most fun person ever!”
“Fun?” Sirius repeated, making a face like he’d just bitten into something sour. “Right. Loads of laughs.”
Love really was blind. Because if Sirius had to name the most boring person in the entire castle, it would be his own brother—without hesitation.
Regulus was practically allergic to fun. The human embodiment of a sigh.
“You used to be so bright and cheerful, too. What have you done to her, Reggie?”
Regulus, who had been steadily ignoring the entire exchange in favor of a well-worn copy of Advanced Potions, turned a single cool glance toward his brother.
“If anything, she has done something to me,” he said smoothly.
“And she is perfectly capable of deciding what she enjoys.”
The words were calm, but there was something softer beneath them, something that made Remus glance sidelong at Sirius with the faintest of knowing smiles.
Regulus’s fingers tapped lightly against the spine of his book, eyes lowered again. You could see it — the way his guard was pulling back up around him, piece by piece.
You bit the inside of your cheek, a soft breath caught behind your ribs.
Enough of this.
“Well,” you said brightly, pushing your chair back with a soft scrape against the floor, “that is quite enough for one afternoon.”
Before either of them could reply, you reached out and caught Regulus gently by the sleeve of his robe, fingers curling lightly around the fabric.
“Come on, Reggie,” you said, voice soft but sure. “We will go somewhere quieter.”
Regulus looked up at you, something unspoken flickering in his gaze — and then he nodded, closing his book with a quiet snap and rising smoothly to his feet beside you.
Sirius blinked, half a grin still lingering on his mouth. “Oh? Running off with her now, are you?”
You stifled a laugh, giving a small shake of your head. “I will see you both later,” you said lightly, offering a smile first to Sirius, then to Remus, who only returned it with a soft, knowing warmth that lingered long after you had turned away.
And with that, your hand still brushing lightly against Regulus’s sleeve, you led him from the sun-dappled corner, the faint sound of Sirius’s teasing voice echoing behind you, growing fainter with each step.
Your steps are light, weaving easily through the scattered leaves and roots as you lead Regulus away from the library.
He follows you with that quiet steadiness of his, hands in his pockets, eyes flicking to you now and again. He never needs to ask where you are going. You both already know.
And soon, there it is—your favorite tree. Ancient and wide, its branches reaching high into the pale blue sky, its roots curling like lazy serpents across the earth.
Without a word, Regulus leans his back to the trunk and exhales softly, lids fluttering closed for a moment as if to savor the calm.
You smile at him, bright and easy, and with no hesitation at all, you fold your legs beneath you and settle onto the grass beside him.
Then, slower, gentler, you ease your head into his lap, the crown of it resting against the fine wool of his robes. You feel him still beneath you, feel the way his breath catches and then softens.
And when you tilt your gaze up, you catch the barest curve of his lips, an almost-smile, the kind he seems to keep only for you.
For a little while, neither of you speak. The rustle of the leaves above is enough, the warmth of the afternoon sun, the quiet sound of students far off in the distance.
And the steady presence of him. You let it fill you, content, before you finally break the silence in that soft, lilting tone of yours.
“What do you think we will do once this year is over?” you ask lightly, tracing idle shapes into the fabric of his robes.
Regulus shifts a little beneath you, gaze dropping to watch your fingers move. He hums low in his throat. “You will go to the Potters’, most likely.”
“And you?” You tilt your head, eyes bright.
There is a pause. Then, quietly, he says, “I will return to Grimmauld.”
You frown, a small crease between your brows. “No, you will not.”
Regulus arches a brow at you, the faintest amusement in his voice. “And why is that?”
“Because I won’t let you.” You smile up at him now, soft and sure.
“I will not leave you there. You will come with me. With Sirius, Remus, James, and Lily. We will all go to the Potters’ for the summer, and you will be there too. I will not allow you to go back to that house.”
There is a long moment where he says nothing. You watch him, patient.
You know him well enough not to push too quickly. And after a moment, his gaze drops again to meet yours.
“It is not so simple, amour” he murmurs.
“It is.” You reach up now, fingertips brushing the edge of his jaw with a tenderness that makes something in him go still.
“Because you are my favorite person, Regulus. And I refuse to be parted from my favorite person. Especially not for a whole summer.”
That nearly undoes him. He breathes in, careful and slow.
His fingers twitch faintly where they rest beside you on the grass, as if he is fighting the urge to reach for you, to tangle his hands in your hair.
“I… cannot promise,” he says at last, voice low.
“Then I will promise for you,” you say, your smile soft and your eyes bright.
“You will come, I will make sure of it, Sirius will too, and Remus. You are welcome, none of us want you to be alone.”
He lets out a breath. His gaze softens more than he means it to. And though he does not say yes, you can feel the edges of his resistance slipping.
“You are impossible,” he murmurs.
The silence deepens, heavy and fragile, until a familiar voice finally breaks through.
“Well, well,” Barty drawled, voice low and smooth as he dropped onto the grass beside you without invitation.
“Didn’t think I’d find such excellent company out here!”
You looked up, raising a brow. “You always say that. Makes it hard to believe you’re ever surprised.”
Barty’s mouth curved into something softer than a smirk. “Maybe I’m just easily impressed.” He plucked a stray leaf from your shoulder, his fingers brushing just a little longer than necessary.
“Though I think we both know that isn’t true.”
You gave a quiet laugh, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You’re impossible.”
“Possibly,” he said, eyes gleaming. “But I’m told I’m charming enough to get away with it.”
Regulus didn’t move at first. Then slowly, he shifted, sitting straighter, though his gaze remained firmly ahead. His face had gone carefully blank—expression composed, impassive.
But his lips were pressed tight and his brows faintly drawn, like he was holding something steady just beneath the surface.
Barty turned back to you. “You always this lovely in the morning, or is this just luck?”
“You’re laying it on thick today, Junior,” you said lightly, flipping the page in your book.
“Only for you.”
Regulus’s fingers flexed once at his side, then stilled. His posture was perfect. His expression hadn’t changed. He looked almost bored, if not for the edge behind his eyes.
Barty leaned back on his elbows, turning his face toward the sky. “You’d think being this pretty would come with a warning.”
You smiled, amused, but didn’t reply.
For the first time, Regulus turned his head.
His voice, when it came, was quiet and clipped. “Some of us were enjoying the quiet.”
Barty glanced over at him, then back to you. “Wasn’t trying to interrupt. Just couldn’t resist the view.”
Regulus’s jaw shifted, subtle and sharp, and though he didn’t respond, his eyes didn’t leave Barty for a long moment.
Barty just grinned. “Anyway,” he said, standing and brushing his trousers off.
“Don’t let me keep you. I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”
He winked before turning, and Regulus tracked his retreat with a gaze cold enough to freeze wind.
You, still thumbing through your book, didn’t seem to notice.
Regulus looked back at you, his features schooled again into that same unreadable calm. But his fingers, curled in the grass, didn’t unclench.
You give him a playful swat to the arm. “Go on then, let us have our peace.”
For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The quiet settles again, but it feels different now—less peaceful, more strained.
You shift slightly, resting your head back on Regulus’s lap, eyes turning upward as if the sky might offer some explanation.
He’s unusually still beneath you.
You glance up, catching the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lips are pressed together, the faint crease between his brows. That unreadable look he gets when he’s thinking too much, or trying too hard not to feel something.
Something’s off.
You tilt your head, voice soft. “You alright?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. When he does, it’s clipped. “Fine.”
You blink. “You don’t sound fine.”
Regulus exhales, low and barely audible. His eyes stay on some far-off point, cold and focused like they’ve locked onto a problem only he can see.
“I don’t get it,” you say, quieter now, more to yourself than to him.
“One minute you’re fine, and then Barty shows up, and you shut down like someone flipped a switch.” You sit up a little, resting your weight on your elbows, still watching him.
“What did he even say that got under your skin?” you ask, genuinely puzzled. “He was just being Barty.”
Regulus’s gaze flicks down to you then, briefly. His expression is unreadable. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or tired or just done with the conversation.
“I said I’m fine,” he mutters.
You hesitate, then nod, letting the silence settle again even though it gnaws at your thoughts. You lie back against him, but it doesn’t feel the same now.
The rest of the day blurs by in a way that days sometimes do when your mind is a little elsewhere, when the air feels lighter and you are quietly waiting for something.
The hours of lessons seem to bleed into one another.
You and Regulus had not shared classes today. Not until later. And already, you were counting down until you could meet him again, like you always do.
The two of you had made quiet plans for dinner, you would meet by the entrance hall, as always.
But now, with the last lesson fading to a close, you are already making your way down one of the quieter corridors.
You turn the final corner, steps light and familiar as your eyes scan the corridor ahead.
You’re expecting to see Regulus leaning against the archway like he usually does, arms crossed, half-annoyed at being early. But the space is empty.
You slow slightly, glancing around.
“Looking for someone?” a voice purrs beside you.
You blink, startled, and turn to find Barty, again, falling into step beside you, hands in his pockets and a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Oh,” you say, letting out a small laugh. “Just Regulus.”
“Of course,” he says lightly. “You two are practically stitched together.”
You smile without thinking. “He’s usually here by now.”
Barty tilts his head, studying you. “I could keep you company until he shows.”
You nod, kind. “That’s sweet of you.”
“So,” he says, casually sliding a bit closer, “what are you doing tomorrow afternoon?”
You blink. “Tomorrow?”
“Mm,” he hums. “Thought maybe you and I could go into Hogsmeade. Get something warm and take a walk. Unless you’ve sworn some blood oath to Regulus to never leave his side.”
You laugh again, still not entirely catching on. “Oh—I mean, I’ve got a few things to do. Some studying and a bit of tutoring.”
Barty leans in slightly, voice warm and teasing. “Surely someone like you can make time for something fun.”
You hesitate, blinking at him. “I—well, I suppose maybe. But—”
“There you are.”
The words cut clean and cold through the air.
You turn.
Regulus is standing just behind you, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.
He looks directly at Barty, not even pretending to smile.
Barty only grins wider. “Perfect timing, Regulus. Just asking your girl here to spend a little time with me tomorrow! We’re thinking Hogsmeade.”
Regulus doesn’t answer or even smile. He just takes a slow step toward you.
Barty claps his hands once, mock-pleasant. “Well, now I don’t have to worry about walking her back. I’ll pick you up at the dorm tomorrow, yeah?”
You look between them, confused, but Barty doesn’t give you time to answer. He gives a wink and strolls off down the corridor, whistling low under his breath.
You turn back to Regulus. “What was that about?”
He starts walking, not waiting for you to follow.
You hurry after him. “Regulus!”
He doesn’t look at you. “You seemed busy.”
You frown. “What does that mean?”
“It means I didn’t want to interrupt,” he mutters, voice clipped.
You fall silent for a few steps, trying to puzzle through the tone, cold and sharp, nothing like the warmth he usually carries around you.
“I didn’t agree to anything,” you say quietly. “I didn’t even understand what he was doing.”
Regulus exhales slowly, still not looking at you.
“I’m not stupid,” he says. “I know exactly what he was doing.”
You watch the rigid line of his back as he walks ahead, and for the first time, you’re not sure how to reach him.
You catch up to him just outside the common room, your steps quick and light across the stone floor.
He doesn’t slow when he hears you or even glance back. That alone is strange.
“Regulus,” you call gently. He keeps walking.
You try again, louder. “Regulus!”
He stops.
But he still doesn’t look at you. His shoulders are stiff, the line of his spine pulled taut, as if even standing still is a strain.
You frown, stepping up beside him. “What’s wrong with you?” you ask lightly, hoping the softness in your voice will coax whatever it is from him. “You’ve been off since—”
“I’m fine.”
You blink. “You don’t sound fine.”
He finally turns to you. “I’m just tired,” he mutters.
You cross your arms. “Tired doesn’t usually come with the silent treatment.”
Regulus scoffs under his breath and starts walking again.
You follow. “Did I do something?”
He doesn’t answer.
You press again, voice rising. “Regulus!”
That’s when he turns, too fast, too sudden. “Why does it always have to be about you?”
You freeze.
“What?” you whisper.
He exhales through his nose, jaw clenched, like he’s said too much already. “Forget it.”
“No, say it,” you snap, stepping forward. “You’re being a prat right now, and I deserve to know why.”
His eyes flicker to yours, cold and unreadable. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself just fine earlier. Maybe you should go ask Barty to walk you back.”
You blink again, more confused than anything. “What does Barty have to do with this?”
Regulus laughs once — a hollow, bitter sound. “Of course! You don’t even see it.”
“See what?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” you say firmly, voice rising. “If you’re going to treat me like this, you don’t get to act like I’m the problem. Tell me what I did.”
“You didn’t do anything,” he says, almost too fast. “That’s the point!”
Your mouth opens, then shuts again. You stare at him for a long moment, stunned and not even sure what it is you’re supposed to be defending yourself from.
“I don’t understand,” you whisper.
He looks at you, really looks, and for a moment something flickers behind his eyes — not quite anger, but then it’s gone.
“Neither do I,” he says tightly, and turns again, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.
You stand there for a long moment, the stone walls pressing in around you, heart hammering too loud in the sudden quiet.
You didn’t cry.
You told yourself that when you slammed the door shut behind you, chest heaving and eyes dry with stubborn heat.
You wouldn’t cry over Regulus Black and his moods and his walls and his unreadable coldness. You paced the length of your room for what felt like hours, silent and bristling, your thoughts circling like a storm.
And when sleep finally came, it was out of exhaustion, not peace.
The morning dawned too early, too bright. You woke with your jaw clenched, the memory of his voice sharp in your bones, the ache of confusion still lodged under your ribs.
You got dressed slower than usual. There was hope beneath your frustration — that maybe, just maybe, it had been a bad night.
That maybe he’d speak.
You made your way through the corridors, the castle quiet in that golden, waking kind of way. And there he was.
Up ahead, his stride is even and precise, as always. The clean line of his shoulders, the dark sweep of his hair, too familiar not to draw you in.
“Regulus,” you called gently, a little breathless.
He didn’t stop.
He didn’t even glance at you.
He passed by as if he hadn’t heard. As if you weren’t even there.
You stopped walking. Your eyes stung, but you blinked it away, standing alone in the middle of the corridor, heat rising to your cheeks, sharp and furious.
Fine. If he wanted to be cold, you’d let him freeze alone.
“Morning.”
The voice curled around you with an easy drawl, smooth as ever.
You turned to find Barty leaning casually against the wall just ahead, his eyes already waiting for yours, lazy amusement tugging at his mouth.
You hesitated for only a moment. Then you walked toward him.
Far behind you, unnoticed by most, two Marauders sat in a tucked-away alcove near the end of the corridor.
kOne leaned forward just enough to catch the moment Regulus passed you without looking. The other raised a brow.
Remus smirked behind the rim of his cup. Sirius didn’t bother hiding his grin.
You, of course, didn’t see it.
You only saw Barty, already stepping forward to fall into pace beside you. “Rough morning?” he asked, like he didn’t already know.
You exhaled slowly, lips twitching into something tired but sharp. “You could say that.”
He gave a soft chuckle, brushing his hand through his hair. “Well, lucky for you, I happen to be excellent company. You need a seat partner?”
You nodded before thinking, letting him guide you into the Great Hall without another glance back.
You followed him down the aisle, right past the usual table where Regulus always sat — not even sparing a glance.
Barty pulled out the bench for you with a flourish, flashing a half-smile. “Allow me.”
You sat, jaw tight but grateful, and he slid in beside you with practiced ease.
“So,” he said, reaching for a slice of toast. “What’s the plan today, trouble? Should we skip Potions?”
You laughed, quietly. “Tempting.”
His eyes flicked over you, warm and just a little too knowing. “You’re sad.”
You blinked, surprised. “What?”
Barty grinned. “You’ve got that edge today. Out of all the gryffindors, you’re usually the happiest. So what’s got little Lupin sad?”
You shook your head, pretending not to be flustered. “It’s really nothing.”
“Whatever you say,” he said smoothly.
Far off, behind his own untouched plate, Regulus did not look away from the spot you used to sit.
“You really ought to let yourself have fun more often, you know?” Barty said, tilting his head as he studied you.
You gave him a look, but your lips curled into a smile. “I do have fun. You’re not the only source of entertainment at Hogwarts, Junior.”
“Maybe not,” he murmured, voice dipping lower now. “But I am the best one.”
You laughed despite yourself. He leaned a little closer, his knee brushing yours as if by accident. You didn’t pull away. His presence was warm, light, easy.
Still, your eyes flicked away for a moment.
You thought of how Regulus always knew what you needed before you said it, how his silences somehow spoke more truth than others’ words.
You thought of the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing left in the world worth trusting after all the heartache his family brought upon him.
And just like that, the breath you took felt thinner.
Barty didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did, and he didn’t care.
He shifted again, closer still. His hand hovered near yours, his eyes unreadable now.
“You’ve got this look,” he said softly. “Like you’re trying to decide something.”
You blinked. “Am I?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his gaze fixed on your mouth. “But if I’m lucky, maybe you’ll decide in my favor.”
And then he leaned in. Slowly, deliberately, like gravity itself had shifted to pull him closer.
His face tilted toward yours, the space between you thinning until his lips hovered just shy of yours, brushing the shape of your breath.
Your breath hitched. A quiet, startled catch in your chest. And before you could think better of it, before you could remind yourself that something about this felt not quite right, you found yourself beginning to lean in, too.
“I need my copy of Advanced Defensive Charms back.” a voice cut through the moment like a blade, sharp and quick.
You jolted slightly, startled. Regulus stood a few paces away, arms crossed, his tone just loud enough to make a few heads turn.
His eyes never once flicked to you. They were locked on Barty, steady and searing, the kind of stare that didn’t waver or soften, only dared him to lean closer.
“Now?” you asked, breath catching.
“Yes, now.” He didn’t wait for a response. He simply turned, expecting you to follow.
You hesitated, glancing back at Barty. He only hummed under his breath, half a grin tugging at his lips.
“Well,” Barty said with a slow smile, rising to his feet. His eyes flicked to Regulus, all amusement. “Good luck with that.”
He brushed past you lightly, then turned back just enough to add, “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
As he passed Regulus, his shoulder brushed deliberately against his. He leaned in, voice barely audible, words meant for one person only.
“Took you long enough, Black.”
You didn’t hear it. You were already catching up, confusion stirring beneath your ribs. You moved after Regulus without looking back.
Barty, however, didn’t glance away. He smiled to himself and wandered off, whistling low under his breath.
And not too far off, beneath the arch of a crumbling corridor, Sirius watched with a grin curled into the corner of his mouth.
Remus leaned against the wall beside him, expression unreadable, but his eyes flicked briefly to Regulus’s back.
“Well,” Sirius said under his breath. “That’s one way for him to realise.”
Right after Barty left, before you could fully process what had just happened, a hand closed around yours. Firm, warm, and unmistakably his.
You froze mid-step, surprise catching in your throat. “Regulus?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he tugged sharply, a sudden, insistent pull that sent your feet moving before your mind could even catch up.
He was dragging you out of the hall, his jaw clenched tight, eyes fixed straight ahead with an intensity that brooked no argument.
You stumbled, breath hitching in your chest. “What the hell are you doing?”
Still no response.
“Regulus!” You yanked at your arm, trying desperately to plant your heels into the cold stone floor. “What’s gotten into you?”
His grip didn’t waver. Knuckles whitening around your wrist, holding on like losing you was something he simply could not afford.
“You can’t just—drag me around like this,” you snapped, voice rising now.
“You ignored me yesterday, acted like I didn't exist, and now you think you can just show up, grab me, and what? Command me like a dog?”
He kept walking.
“Regulus, seriously, stop! What is this? What do you want from me?”
You were furious now. Not just annoyed—furious. Because you didn’t understand, and he wasn’t saying anything, and his silence felt like a match held too long over your skin.
“Is this a joke to you?” you hissed. “Because if this is some twisted mood swing of yours, I’m not playing along!”
He didn’t even look at you.
He was dragging you through the empty corridors, his grip unwavering, steps quick and purposeful as the castle's echoes followed behind.
When he finally stopped, it was outside a narrow door tucked between unused classrooms—an old closet room long forgotten. Without hesitation, he opened it and pulled you inside, the darkness swallowing you both.
You were breathless, panting more from anger than exertion.
Without warning, he spun you around, his hand gripping your waist with a force that both startled and grounded you.
His touch was firm, commanding, pulling you close as he pressed you back against the cold stone wall.
His breaths came ragged and uneven, a low exhale escaping him as if the air itself was thick with tension.
His pupils were dilated, dark and wide, flickering with a restless fire that made your skin prickle.
The smooth weight of his body loomed over you, tall and unyielding, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the space between you.
Your shoulders met the wall with a deliberate, lingering pressure—not harsh, but enough to stop your breath and still your racing thoughts in an instant.
Your hands flew up to his chest instinctively. “Are you insane?!” you snapped.
He stared at you like he couldn’t hear you. Or like he’d heard every word but couldn’t stop himself anyway.
He stepped closer. You could feel the tension pulsing off him now, raw, sharp, and electric.
And then, finally, he spoke. “He wants you.”
You blinked. “What?”
“Barty,” he said, voice low and bitter. “He wants you.”
You shot him a fierce glare, voice trembling with barely contained anger. “Junior? Is that what this is? Him sitting with me?”
He closed the gap, breath hot against your face, hand gripping your waist tight.
“He wasn’t just sitting with you. He was about to kiss you and you were going to kiss him back!.”
You shot back, voice sharp, nearly a shout. “And why do you care?”
He opened his mouth then closed it again. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
That made you scoff. “Oh, really? Enlighten me, Black.”
His eyes searched you, as if trying to decide whether to say it at all.
You laughed, too harsh. “You know what, Regulus? You’re unbelievable!”
“You’re acting like I’ve committed some crime. He sat beside me. He talked. What did you want me to do, tell him to leave?”
“You were going to kiss him,” Regulus said, he didn’t flinch. Instead, his hand shot out, fingers curling around your jaw with an unexpected firmness that both claimed and grounded you.
You stared at him, the heat in your chest twisting. “And what if I did?”
His thumb brushed lightly against your lips, slow and deliberate, before his eyes dropped from your face to linger on your mouth.
His voice dropped low, edged with a quiet intensity that made your pulse hammer in your ears.
[I highly suggest playing Friends by Chase Atlantic here!!!]
“I’m not here to argue,” he said, husky but steady. “I’m here to tell you that I won’t let you forget what almost happened. You were about to kiss some other bastard.”
His gaze held yours, unyielding and raw. “And I’m the only one you should ever want.”
Before you could even register what was happening, his lips were on yours, urgent and demanding.
You kissed him back instantly, your hands in his shirt, pulling, anchoring, trying to close the impossible space that had always lived between you.
The kiss deepened, lips parting, breaths catching, hands everywhere at once—his in your hair, yours fisted in the front of his shirt like you needed something to hold onto or else you’d fall straight through the floor.
His body pressed against yours, firm and unrelenting, pinning you to the stone wall behind like you were something worth holding onto, something he couldn’t let go of even if he tried.
Your legs parted instinctively, one of his thighs sliding between yours as your hips tilted forward without thinking, chasing the pressure, chasing him.
The way he moved against you—slow, firm, purposeful—sent heat coiling low in your stomach, your breath stuttering as your hands slid down the hard lines of his back and held him there.
You could barely think past it. Barely speak.
But then your mouth opened and—
“Regulus,” you breathed, the sound escaping like a prayer. “God—Please.”
He stilled instantly.
The world narrowed to the way his chest heaved against yours, the shallow rise and fall of his breath. His lips brushed yours again, barely, as he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and blown wide with something more dangerous than want.
“Say that again,” he murmured, voice ragged and low like it had been torn straight from somewhere deep.
You swallowed, heat flickering through you. “Regulus.”
His name on your tongue again made something in him snap.
He surged forward before the last syllable left your lips, kissing you harder, like he was trying to consume it, claim it, swallow the sound down and make it his.
He groaned into your mouth, hips pressing against yours again in a movement that had you gasping, clinging tighter.
You didn’t hesitate. You pulled him closer, fingers sliding under the hem of his shirt, touch desperate and searching.
His mouth found the curve of your neck, hot and open, and a gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it.
“I need you, please.” you panted, breath catching as your head fell back,
Your legs shifted instinctively, knees parting, trying to draw him closer still as his teeth scraped lightly over your skin, his hands tightening at your waist like he couldn’t get close enough.
“Keep those legs spread for me, amour.” He groaned.
The command was so firm and unquestionable that it nearly took you by surprise. He had never spoken to you like that before. Moments between you were usually filled with playfulness and light teasing.
You reached for him, fingers curling into the front of his trousers, a silent plea for him to touch you where you need him most.
But before you could move further, his hand wrapped around your wrist.
“Behave,” he murmured, voice low and rough, with an edge that hadn’t been there before.
You barely manage to catch your breath before his hands slide lower, gripping your waist as he presses you harder against the wall.
Regulus leans in, his mouth finding your neck, biting and sucking with a hunger that sends your pulse skittering. Each mark he leaves burns, a promise, a claim—evidence you already know you’ll need to hide later.
“Someone could walk in,” you gasp, voice trembling as your back presses harder into the wall, but Regulus just exhales, his breath hot against your collarbone.
“Then be quiet,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. His hands slide beneath your shirt, palms gliding over your skin with agonizing slowness. You shiver beneath his touch, already arching into him before you realize you're doing it.
“You wanted this, didn’t you?”
Your answer is a broken whimper as your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a groan from his throat.
His grip tightens on your hips, and you feel him against you—hard, aching, insistent through the fabric of his trousers, grinding into your thigh.
“Need you,” you breathe, the words barely making it past your lips, “please, Regulus.”
Regulus leans back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and seething. “You think it's funny,” he says, voice low and cold, “going around flirting with Junior?”
Before you can answer, his hands move—urgent, possessive—tugging your skirt up with rough precision, exposing skin to the cool air and his hotter gaze. His fingers press into your thighs, thumbs brushing dangerously close, and the sharp edge of the tension coils tighter in your stomach.
“You were smiling at him,” he mutters, like the thought alone sets him off. “Laughing.”
Your breath hitches. He presses closer, chest against yours, thigh slipping between your legs until you can barely stand straight.
“Say it,” he demands, voice at your ear. “Say who you want.”
You whimper softly, eyes barely meeting his as the words slip out, “Want you.”
He raises an eyebrow, a slow smirk curling at his lips. “Uh uh, that’s not my name, amour.” he says, voice low and amused.
You straighten immediately, biting back a smile. “Want you, Regulus,” you correct.
“Good, baby,” Regulus murmured, but before you could respond, he pulled you flush against him, capturing your lips again. His kisses were harsher now, urgent and hungry for more.
His hands slid beneath your skirt, fingertips tracing along your bare skin, sending a shiver through you. His glare was intense, but softened by the way his lips parted slightly, breath uneven.
You leaned in closer, brushing your lips along his jaw and teased, “Is that all you’ve got, Reggie? Barty seems to be doing a much better job.”
A low sound rumbles in his chest, and before you know it, he’s doesn’t give you a chance to react before he’s stepping between your legs, hands spreading your thighs wider.
“You’re getting cocky,” he mutters, unbuttoning your shirt off in one quick motion. His hands are everywhere, skimming your sides, gripping your waist, fingers digging into your thighs.
He finally rests one on your waist, and one just under your breast. “Think you can go around acting like that? Such a brat.”
You bite your lip, trying to hold back a moan when his mouth latches onto your collarbone, sucking a mark into your skin.
“You didn’t exactly stop me,” you manage to say, your voice breathy.
Regulus just scoffs, his hands moving to pull your skirt up “You’re right. Guess I need to teach you a lesson.”
His hands slide over your panties, and his lips brush against your ear. “You’re gonna keep quiet, understand?”
You nod, breathless, and he smirks, clearly not convinced. His fingers dip lower, teasing you through your underwear, and you have to bite down on your lip to muffle the noise that slips out.
Regulus just hums, almost pleased with your reaction. His thumb grazes against your clothed clit, just barely giving you what you want. He applies slight pressure, and you bite your lip harder, eager for more.
“Better keep your voice low. You wouldn’t want anyone finding out how desperate you are for me, would you?” He taunts, his thumb pressing more firmly.
He pushes your panties to the side, and strokes long stripes up and down your folds, collecting the arousal that has accumulated.
He groans softly as he stares down at your cunt, and he slides his middle finger inside of you, earning a soft gasp from you. You can’t help the way your hips buck forward, chasing his touch. You're too needy to be embarrassed at this point.
“Please, Reggie,” you whisper, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric.
He gives you that intense, the one that makes your stomach twist with anticipation.
“You’re lucky I need you this bad,” he mutters before he slips his ring finger inside, curling just right, making you mewl.
His other hand cups the back of your neck, keeping you close as his mouth moves against yours, swallowing your moans.
His fingers move faster, and it’s impossible to stay quiet, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore. All that matters is the way you’re unraveling in his hands, and he’s watching every bit of it with a smug, satisfied look.
The way his fingers curl so precisely inside of you almost makes you see stars—and his thumb increases the speed against your clit. You grind your hips harder into his hand, desperate for your release.
“You’re gonna remember this next time you think about kissing Junior,” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit, making your thighs tremble around him.
"Say it."
"I'll remember it, just—please, need all of you." You whimper as his fingers fuck you faster.
Regulus doesn’t waste any time, pulling out his fingers and spinning you against the wall.
You gasp loudly at how quickly he pulled his fingers out of you, and also being slammed against the wall rather quickly.
His hand snakes around your waist, pulling your hips back to meet his, and you can feel how hard he is through his pants.
“You’re gonna be good for me now, right?” He mutters against your ear, his voice rough and dripping with dominance.
You nod, too breathless to respond properly, and he chuckles lowly. “Use your words, amour.”
“Y-Yes,” you stammer, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I’ll be good, Regulus. I promise.”
“Good girl, that’s what I thought,” he murmurs, one hand slipping under your shirt, brushing over your stomach, while the other tugs your hips back against him.
His lips trace the curve of your neck, sucking a mark just below your ear.
You can’t help the way you push and wiggle back against him, desperate for more contact.
Regulus clicks his tongue disapprovingly, his grip tightening on your waist to keep you in place.
“Patience,” he says, almost like he’s scolding you, but there’s a hint of a smirk in his voice.
His lips follow, kissing along your shoulder as he pushes his own pants down just enough to free himself.
His cock stands proudly, and he gives himself a couple pumps in preparation. He runs his hand over the tip, collecting the precum that had accumulated.
He brings himself closer to you, and presses his cock head against your wet folds, causing the man to sigh shakily.
You feel him press against you, hot and heavy, and your breath hitches in anticipation. Regulus leans over you, his chest pressing against your back, one hand still gripping your waist.
“Please, I need you,” you whisper, pushing your hips back to encourage him.
He finally gives in, guiding himself to your entrance and pushing in slowly, stretching you inch by inch.
The way he fills you has your knees almost giving out, but Regulus’s grip on your waist holds you steady. His girth stretches your walls out further and further—the sting and burn never feeling better.
“Fuck,” he groans, stilling once he’s fully inside you, balls deep. “So tight... and you just take it so well.”
You whimper at the stretch, your body adjusting to the intrusion, and Regulus’s lips press against the back of your neck, grounding you.
Once he’s sure you’re ready, he starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep, every movement deliberate and measured. His grip on you tightens, and he lets out a soft sigh of pleasure.
“God!” you gasp, as he picks up the pace, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His balls clap against your ass as he fucks into you harsher.
“Keep quiet,” he warns, his teeth grazing your shoulder. “You don’t want anyone to hear how desperate you sound, do you?”
You bite your lip, doing your best to muffle your moans, but Regulus’s relentless pace makes it impossible.
His hand slides up to cover your mouth, muffling your whimpers as he pounds into you harder, his hips snapping against yours with an urgency that drives you wild.
"You're doing a good job at listening," he praises as his cock slams in and out of your tight walls, "I'm s-shocked." You bite your lip harder, eager to please him.
Knowing Regulus, he'll stop if you disobey. You nod your head in response, and thrust your hips back into his to match his pace.
You can feel yourself getting closer, your walls clenching tightly around him, and he whimpers at the sensation, his hand sliding from your mouth to your chest, pulling you back against him as he thrusts deeper.
“Gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.
You nod frantically. "Good," he growls, and he bites down on your shoulder, his pace becoming rougher, more erratic.
The wet sloshing sounds filling the room along with bated breaths and desperate moans. “Fuck, amour, squeezing me so good. pretty little pussy was made just f’me”
Cock drunk moans being the only response coming from yourlips. Fingers of one of his hands digging into the flesh of your hip, no doubt leaving bruising prints you’d be seeing for days.
The other creeping around your throat, squeezing briefly before arching you back to look into those eyes you loved so much. “Reg, hah, p-please, I can’t!”.
A harsh smack against the skin of your ass making you gasp. “Now, what did I tell you about being quiet?”
Your eyes roll back, walls of your cunt starting to spam as you feel that beautiful high creeping upon you. “Can’t hold, fuck."
His slender fingers toy with your clit bringing you closer, jaw slack with a desperate cry of his name.
“Merlin, you squeeze my cock so good, shit, gonna stuff you full of my cum so you’ll belong to no one other than me!”
Whines leave your throat at the rough thrusts, tip of his cock practically kissing your cervix. “I’ll fuck this cunt as many times as it takes, as many times I need to to make sure you’re no one else’s”.
You’re filled with the burning feeling of the thick ropes of his cum emptying deep within you, flooding your womb with the intention of his seed doing its job, leaving you whining for more.
“You feel so good.”
Emptiness taking over as he pulls out, still twitching at the sight of his cum slowly trailing down your thighs.
Regulus’s hands found your waist with a firm, almost desperate grip. He spun you around to face him fully, his touch careful but commanding.
He pulled your panties upwards and smoothed the hem of your skirt, adjusting it with an almost ridiculous kind of precision for someone who had just fucked you like that.
Then, more gently, he cupped your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek as if to ground himself. “Look at me,” he murmured, voice low but steady.
You did, your eyes wide and breath shallow.
He held your gaze for a long beat before the tension cracked just slightly. “Are you alright? Was I too harsh?”
You nodded, pupils still blown wide, lips parted as you tried to steady your breath.
Your neck was littered in the proof of him—faint, blooming marks he hadn’t quite meant to leave but hadn’t resisted either.
Regulus’s hands didn’t leave you. One of them tightened at your jaw, the other resting low on your waist as he leaned in, gaze dark and unwavering.
“Use your words, baby,” he said softly, but it wasn’t a suggestion.
Your voice came quiet, a little shaky. “I’m good. Just… not sure I can walk.”
That pulled a laugh from him. Real and unguarded. It burst from his chest before he could stop it, low and warm, his head tipping slightly as he smiled at you.
And you just stared.
Because it wasn’t often that Regulus Black laughed.
And you couldn’t look away.
Your chest ached in the sweetest way.
You loved him. You had, maybe, for far longer than you’d ever dared to admit. But now, standing here, with his hands still on your skin and his laughter blooming like a promise between you, it was impossible to ignore.
He looked back at you, eyes soft, still shining with something that made your heart stutter.
And you knew. There was no one else you would ever want like this.
His eyes searched yours like he still didn’t quite believe this was real, like he might wake up if he blinked too long.
“I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, voice low and rough, “for as long as I can remember.”
You blinked, a startled laugh slipping from your lips. You tilted your head slightly, amusement flickering in your eyes.
“You know,” you said, breath still shaky, “Remus might actually kill you for this.”
Regulus shrugged, a faint smile pulling at his lips, equal parts challenge and surrender. “Merlin, don’t even mention it.”
Your grin widened, eyes gleaming now. “Well,” you murmured, as if tasting the words before you committed to them, “our brothers are dating.”
His brows twitched, and for a moment, something almost vulnerable crossed his face. His voice was quieter this time, uncertain around the edges.
“Should we?”
The question hung in the space between your mouths, half-ridiculous, half-serious.
His voice was a whisper, raw with meaning and years of silent longing. “Je t’aime.”
“Je t’aime, Y/n, since I was eleven.”
A soft, joyful laugh escaped your lips, the weight of his words settling deep in your heart.
“I love you, Regulus, since I was eleven too.” you breathed, your voice trembling with the truth of it.
Without a pause, he drew you close again, his kiss slow and reverent, as if trying to memorize every part of you.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he murmured against your lips, the depth of his love echoing in every word.
Unbeknownst to you and Regulus, not far away Sirius and Remus were sharing a quiet moment, their voices low but filled with laughter.
Sirius was clapping Barty on the shoulder, his eyes bright with mischief and satisfaction.
“Thanks for stepping in, Junior,” Sirius said with a grin. “I don’t think we could’ve gotten through to them without a little… persuasion.”
Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “It was about time someone shook things up. Watching them circle each other like that was honestly painful.”
Remus sighed, then added proudly, “I’m sure he pulled her aside to talk things out. Maturely! Like the reasonable Black he is.”
Sirius snorted. “Right. I’m very sure he’s handling this like a Black.”
Remus froze. His eyes widened slowly as something unpleasant dawned on him. “You don’t think they would—”
“Oh, that’s exactly how we talked our feelings out, remember?” Sirius grinned, smug and absolutely no help at all.
Remus looked positively horrified and about to pass out. “Merlin. No. No, no—she’s my sister—”
Barty was already wheezing with laughter, doubled over on the bench. “Come on, Lupin. He’s a Black. What did you expect?”
Remus suddenly stood, eyes wide with dawning horror. “Oh no. No. I need to find them.”
He was already striding down the corridor, muttering about protective charms and locking spells, while Sirius and Barty doubled over behind him—laughing, breathless, as their plan succeeded just a little too well for Remus’ peace of mind.
Somewhere behind the walls and winding corridors, two people were finally finding their way to each other, none the wiser to the gentle push that had set it all in motion.
