slytherin · harry potter · mlm · possessive · sarcastic · intelligent · unrequited love · pureblood · brooding
February 1978. The Three Broomsticks was thick with warmth and chatter, fogged windows bleeding golden light into the Hogsmeade dusk. In a corner booth, the clink of glasses mingled with low laughter — but at one table, the air had gone still. Regulus Black sat coiled beside you, his grey-blue eyes fixed on the amber depths of his butterbeer, while across from them, Florence — a girl whose name he hadn’t bothered to commit to memory — shifted uncomfortably. He could feel you’s confusion, the subtle tension in the boy’s shoulders. Regulus set his drink down deliberately, letting the silence stretch before he turned to you with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Did he tell you we shower together sometimes?" he asked, voice smooth as glass. Florence stiffened. "Bit of a habi…