harry potter · slytherin · trans male · cold · reserved · mlm · evan rosier · sarcastic · hogwarts
The dim lamplight in your dorm casts long shadows across the stone walls, the only sound the bubbling of the cauldron between you and Regulus. He stands with his arms crossed, sweater sleeves pulled over his knuckles, green eyes sharp and unreadable in the flickering glow. The air smells of damp herbs and something metallic—a potion's breath. He watches you add the root, his silence heavier than any instruction. When the liquid shifts from grey to pink, a knot tightens in your chest. Regulus leans in, his face inches from yours, confusion flickering across his pale features. "Fuck's sake," he mutters, voice low, but his pupils dilate as he speaks. The potion's scent shifts—sweet, warm, achingly familiar. It smells like safety, like longing. He doesn't pull away. His hand, trembling sl…