#hogwarts setting

~ seven minutes in heaven ~

——

Regulus doesn’t look very surprised when the neck of the empty firewhiskey bottle points to him.

In fact he seems more amused than anything else, meanwhile James is contemplating his likelihood of dropping dead on the spot just at the thought of that cupboard door closing on them.

“Ew - ew - no spin again.” James’ best friend retches. “I am not locking my best friend and my brother in a broom cupboard together–not again. I swear every time we play it always lands on you two.” He groans, still oblivious, as the rest of the circle snicker behind their hands and half empty goblets.

“Those are the rules Sirius.” Regulus points out, his eyes not leaving James’ across the circle. “Wouldn’t want us cheating, would you?” He teases.

“Yeah Pads, rules are important.” James chokes, just as Reg pushes to his feet and crosses the room.

“Right, the boy who enchanted the portraits to sing every time he exits a classroom cares about rules.” Sirius scoffs.

James is about to stutter a reply when Regulus’ hand closes on the fabric of his jumper and wrenches him to his feet, dragging him along to the nearby broom cupboard where they play 7 minutes in heaven at every gryffindor party.

“Relax brother, you’ll get him back in one piece.” Regulus sings as he shoves James inside and slams the door, locking it himself.

“Aw but I like it when you try to rip me apart.” James grins, leaning back against the opposite wall.

Late one night atop the Astronomy Tower, Fred finally works up the courage to confess what's been building for far too long. You've always known - how could you not? But nothing compares to hearing it from his lips, under the stars, when the teasing fades and the truth comes out. With a kiss that lingers and a heat that rises, it turns out some confessions are worth waiting for.

756 words

~accidental legimency~

——

“Why is he so pretty? Nobody should be that pretty.”

Those are the first words Regulus Black hears when he walks into the library. When Barty hexed him with temporary legimency - where he can only hear thoughts about himself - he’d expected it to be odd, and probably a little insulting in some cases, but he never expected this.

He tries to ignore it, and goes to the shelves lined with potions books, but that voice comes through again.

“His hair looks so good today, I wish he’d let me touch it. His hair is probably so soft.”

Regulus stares straight ahead, forcing his eyes to stay on the shelves and not try to pick out which of these students seems so enticed by his hair and face. He recognises the voice, vaguely, but not enough to know who exactly it is thinking these things.

He shudders, picks out the book he needs and darting to a nearby seat. He looks through his bag and starts digging for his quill - only to realise that in the chaos of that morning, he must have left his slytherin dorm with Barty’s satchel instead of his own. So instead of quills, ink, books or literally any normal thing - Regulus instead finds a pair of terrifying looking scissors, a lock of blonde hair that looks suspiciously like Evan Rosier’s, and a glass jar filled with…snake skin - he thinks.

Regulus grimaces, and drops the jar back into the bag, before raking a hand through his hair and trying to decide which of his classmates he should ask for a pen from. Then he hears that voice again.

“Oh he doesn’t have his quill - that's weird, Regulus is usually so organised.”

He resists the urge to out loud shout ‘I am organised - I’m just best friends with a chaos demon’ when the voice continues.

“I have a spare quill, maybe I should- yes-yes I will. That’s a good enough excuse to talk to him. Okay - here I go.”

Regulus’ eyes widen, realising what is about to happen and holding his breath for this voice to become a face and body and name.

Someone taps his shoulder, and he turns around fast enough to almost fall off his chair.

“Hey Reg, I saw you didn’t have a quill.” He hears - in that voice.

He sees the outstretched quill first, then follows it to the exposed muscled forearm and the shirt rolled up to his elbows. He keeps going and finds himself staring right at the face of the school's quidditch star, his brother's best friend, and the boy Regulus has been sort of obsessed with since his first year when he first met the boy.

He gapes at James Potter, waiting for this all to be revealed as some elaborate, horrible joke.

“Oh Godric, why is he staring like that? Do I have something on my face? He must think I’m so weird. Fucking damnit James.”

Regulus hears, and actually startles back. Holy shit. This is James - James thinks he's pretty, and wants to stroke his hair and talk to him.

“Sorry, I thought you needed a quill- I’ll um- see ya round Reggie.” James starts to ramble, all flustered and adorable, and begins to retreat back to his seat.

Regulus reaches out and takes him by the wrist, pulling him closer.

“What is he- oh.” James sighs both inwardly and outwardly, as Regulus lifts his hand and places it on top of his head, into his nest of curls.

He smiles, sheepishly. “I think you’re pretty too.”