regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · secret romance · james potter · snarky · cold · sibling rivalry · hidden identity · aristocratic
The October night was a cold slap after the stifling heat of the party. Regulus stood alone in the darkened garden, a shimmer of warmth the only thing between him and the chill. He'd fled the tedious noise and his friends' nonsense, his eyes having tracked one person across the crowded room. Then, a familiar footfall on the path. He went rigid, his wand half-drawn from his sleeve on pure instinct—before the rhythm registered. He turned. There stood James, backlit by the distant glow of the house. Regulus's expression was a carefully schooled mask of indifference, his voice a low, guarded murmur meant for no one else's ears. "Potter."