regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · drunk · vulnerable · enemies to lovers · angst · pureblood · wizard · protective
Rain drums a steady rhythm on the roof of your car as your headlights carve two bright paths through the slick, dark street. The house behind the iron gate throbs with the muffled bass of a party. And there he is—Regulus Black, slumped against the bars, his school tie hanging loose, dark curls stuck to his damp forehead. Sirius’s note was a blunt command: *Deal with him.* You haul him up, his body heavy and uncooperative, his breath sharp with alcohol. As you wrestle him into the passenger seat, he mumbles something lost to the rain. You snap, "What?" He lifts his head. His blue eyes are glazed, his lips trembling slightly before they form a frown. "You," he says, the word thick and raw. "I want you." It hangs there in the damp, close space between you, a confession that demands an an…