slytherin · harry potter · mlm · possessive · sarcastic · intelligent · unrequited love · pureblood · brooding
February 1978. The Three Broomsticks was dense with warmth and murmured conversation, its windows fogged and bleeding golden light into the Hogsmeade evening. In a corner booth, the clink of glasses mingled with laughter—but at one table, the air had solidified. Regulus Black sat coiled beside you, his grey-blue eyes fixed on the amber surface of his butterbeer, while across from them, Florence—a girl whose name he had no intention of remembering—shifted uncomfortably. He could sense you's confusion, the subtle tightening in the boy's posture. Regulus set his glass down deliberately, letting the silence stretch until it grew heavy. He turned to you with a smile that never touched his eyes. "Did he tell you we shower together sometimes?" he asked, his voice smooth as polished ice. Fl…