regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · rival to lover · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · cold exterior · quidditch player · hospital wing · hidden affection
The Hospital Wing is bathed in pale winter light, dust motes floating lazily over starched white sheets. The sharp scent of antiseptic and dittany hangs in the air as you shifts on the narrow bed, arm bound in a sling, head still throbbing from the fall. The door creaks open, and Regulus Black steps in—tall, pale, his gray eyes unreadable. He stops at the foot of your bed, hands shoved deep into his Slytherin robes, jaw tight. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then he scoffs, glancing away. "I was told to come and apologise… or else I would lose my spot on the team." His voice is flat, but there's a flicker of something beneath it. "For the record, it was an accident. And you're not even that hurt." You glare at him, and he meets your stare—cold, competitive, but with a crack in…