#regulus is unhinged

The corridor between Arithmancy and Ancient Runes had always been busy, but right now it was buzzing, thick with laughter and backpacks swinging like wrecking balls. The five-minute break between classes never lasted long enough to do anything useful—just long enough to flirt, fight, or fumble your books across the floor in a panic.

Students swarmed both ways, some half-running to their next classroom, others loitering like they had all the time in the world. Somewhere near the centre of it all stood Dorcas Meadows, propped coolly against a windowsill, twirling her wand in one hand and chewing the edge of a Sugar Quill like it owed her money.

Pandora Rosier was beside her, balanced on one foot in ridiculous platform boots, flicking through a fashion magazine and humming. She wasn’t actually reading. She was watching Barty Crouch Jr., who was leaning back on his heels, his bag dropped lazily at his side. He was making faces at passing students and narrating their lives aloud in a terrible French accent.

“Ah, yes,” Barty intoned, gesturing dramatically at a Ravenclaw boy with his robes tucked into his pants. “’E is devastated by ze break-up. He ’as not known peace in zree days. His heart? Shattered. His socks? Unwashed.”

Dorcas snorted. “You’re a menace.”

“I'm a public service.”

But none of them were really paying attention. Not properly. Their eyes kept darting over to Evan Rosier, who was standing a few feet away, cornered politely by some girl they didn’t recognise. She was tall-ish, curly-haired, all fake giggles and flicks of her hair. She was touching his arm with the kind of territorial fingers that screamed look at us.

Evan looked bored.

Painfully bored.

He was tilted slightly away from her, arms crossed over his chest, gaze flickering toward his friends like save me, I beg. He wasn't even pretending to be interested—he kept checking the clock behind her head. The girl either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She was talking a mile a minute, pausing every now and then to touch his shoulder or brush imaginary lint off his sleeve like she had a claim.

“Who even is that?” Pandora asked finally, lowering her magazine.

“No clue,” Dorcas muttered, narrowing her eyes. “But she’s about to get her eyeliner hexed crooked.”

“She’s dead,” Barty said cheerfully. “Do you see Evan’s face? That is the face of someone resisting the urge to Avada.”

“She’s lucky Regulus isn’t here yet.”

As if summoned, a soft flurry of footsteps approached from the far end of the corridor. The noise of the hallway dimmed around it.

Regulus Black, freshly dismissed from a lesson that had run late, slipped through the throng of students with that untouchable grace of his. His satchel swung against his hip. His tie was perfectly knotted. His expression, tired but patient. He spotted his friends immediately, lifting a hand in greeting.

Dorcas grinned. “Speak of the devil.”

Regulus approached, nodding to each of them before he noticed Evan. His eyes softened immediately. Whatever exhaustion clung to him dropped like a cloak. Without a word, he stepped straight up to Evan, hands brushing his boyfriend’s sides gently as Evan turned, all but melting at the sight of him.

“There you are,” Evan cooed, relief dripping from every syllable. He slid an arm around Regulus’s waist, pulling him in close. “Missed you, darling.”

“I was stuck in with Slughorn,” Regulus murmured, resting his forehead briefly against Evan’s chest. “He kept me for ten bloody minutes after class.”

“You poor thing,” Evan said, pressing a kiss to his temple and then to his lips—light and affectionate. “You look exhausted.”

“I am exhausted,” Regulus agreed, melting into Evan’s touch.

A cough sliced the air like a guillotine.

They both turned.

The girl.

She was still there. Still smiling. But now that smile had teeth. She was glaring at Regulus with a kind of plastic politeness that made even Pandora raise her brows.

“Oh,” the girl said, drawing out the syllable like she’d just caught someone stealing from her garden. “You’re Regulus.”

Reg blinked. “…Sorry?”

The girl clapped her hands together lightly, her smile stretching unnaturally. “Right. So. I know you two are, like, together or whatever—boyfriends or something—and that’s totally fine! That’s totally fine.”

Evan narrowed his eyes. “Do you need something?”

She ignored him. “But Evan is also my Arithmancy boyfriend,” she continued, voice syrupy and high. “So technically, he’s kind of ours, right? Like, shared custody. So if you wouldn’t mind backing off during my time with him, that would be really appreciated.”

Dead. Silence.

Pandora let out a slow, “What the fuck?”

Dorcas dropped her Sugar Quill.

Barty stared at the girl like she’d grown an extra head.

The Gryffindors had started arriving down the corridor by then—Sirius, James, Remus, Lily, Peter, Marlene, Mary, Alice, Frank, and both Prewett twins—laughing and loud, but the noise cut short when they clocked the tension. Heads turned. Conversation died. Even the other students froze, sensing the shift in air pressure.

Evan’s entire face scrunched like he’d just sniffed spoiled milk. “Are you—what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Evan,” the girl scolded lightly, reaching for his arm again. “Don’t be mean. You know we flirt all the time in Arithmancy. And you let me braid your hair that one time. That’s, like, basically dating.”

“I was half asleep and you ambushed me.”

“It still counts,” she said smugly.

Evan opened his mouth to respond—but Regulus beat him to it.

And not with words.

With violence.

With raw, instinctive, animalistic rage.

Regulus fucking tackled her.

There was no warning. No shout. No lead-up. One second he was standing beside Evan, frozen and blinking like his brain had blue-screened—and the next, he launched himself forward, body slamming into the girl with a thwack that echoed off the stone walls.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD—” someone screamed.

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

“REGULUS?!”

They went down hard, Regulus on top, both of them hitting the floor in a tangle of robes and limbs and clawing hands.

“You bitch!” Regulus snarled, voice high and wild and furious. “You think you can TOUCH my boyfriend—?!”

“GET OFF ME YOU PSYCHOPATH—!”

Regulus punched her in the side of the head. She shrieked, tried to push him off. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked, snarling like a feral cat.

“Say that again! SAY IT TO MY FACE, YOU DRY-ASS HUSSY—”

“THE FUCK IS HAPPENING—”

“IS HE KILLING HER—?!”

“I’M GONNA RIP OUT YOUR EXTENSIONS,” Regulus screamed, slapping at her with both hands. “AND SHOVE THEM DOWN YOUR STUPID THROAT—”

“FUCKING PSYCHO—!”

They rolled across the floor, knocking over two first-years and a suit of armour. A Slytherin prefect screamed. Evan stood frozen, hands half-lifted, looking horrified but also a little bit impressed.

“Oh my god,” Lily breathed. “He’s unhinged.”

“I told you he was scary,” Sirius muttered.

“Get him off her!” Peter shouted.

“Why?” Dorcas called back, cupping her hands around her mouth. “She deserves it!”

“You absolute—skank-faced baboon-” Regulus panted, fists still swinging.

“I’LL REPORT YOU TO—SOMEONE—”

“I’LL REPORT YOUR LASH GLUE TO THE MINISTRY—”

WHAM. SLAP. CRACK.

“DOES SHE EVEN GO HERE?” James yelled.

Pandora was crying with laughter. Barty was doubled over. Even Gideon looked like he was about to throw up from sheer chaos overload.

Eventually, McGonagall appeared, storming down the hall like a biblical plague. She took one look at the scene and screamed louder than everyone.

“WHAT IN MERLIN’S NAME IS GOING ON?!”

Regulus froze mid-swing. The girl burst into tears.

Evan slowly raised his hand. “This wasn’t my fault.”

Regulus stood up slowly, chest heaving, hair wild, knuckles red. He smoothed his robes down and turned to McGonagall with all the dignity of a Victorian widow.

“She said Evan was her Arithmancy boyfriend.”

The professor blinked. “…I’m sorry, her what?”

“Exactly,” Regulus snapped.

The girl wailed louder.

“Hospital Wing. Now,” McGonagall barked. “Rosier, Black—you’re with me.”

As they were marched down the corridor, students parted like the Red Sea. Regulus held Evan’s hand the entire way, head held high, as the crowd murmured behind him.

Sirius turned to the others, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I take it back,” he said.

“Take what back?” Remus asked.