''Reg you're serious?!" "No, that's my brother-"
Severus was curled up in his usual spot in the library—a small, shadowed nook tucked between two towering shelves, half-hidden by a crooked stack of encyclopaedias and a rather dusty suit of armour. His nose was buried in Moste Potente Potions, the heavy spine balanced perfectly on the edge of the table. It was quiet here. Peaceful. One of the only places in the castle he felt like he could breathe.
He'd claimed this corner years ago, and so far, not once had the Marauders found him here.
So when he heard footsteps approaching, soft and tentative, his shoulders instinctively tensed.
Please not Potter. Please not Black.
He looked up—and to his mild surprise, relaxed immediately when he saw the younger Black, not the older one. Regulus.
"Hi, Regulus," Severus murmured, closing his eyes for a brief moment of relief before looking back at his book.
He frowned slightly, though. How had Regulus found this place? He'd never told anyone about it—not even Lily. Or Charity. Still, maybe the boy had just wandered in on a whim. Regulus did have a knack for quiet places.
Regulus dropped down into the seat beside him and fiddled with his sleeve, clearly agitated about something. Severus glanced over, noting the uncharacteristic nervous energy coming off him in waves.
"So... I've kinda... met someone?" Regulus said hesitantly, barely above a whisper.
That got Severus's full attention.
He immediately closed his book, placing it carefully on the table in front of him, and turned to face the younger Slytherin with a raised brow and a curious half-smile. "Oh? Who is it?"
Severus had a guess. He'd been low-key shipping Regulus and Remus Lupin for months now, convinced they shared longing looks in corridors and exchanged far too many quiet "accidental" touches. Maybe this was it—finally.
"It's Potter."
The smile dropped clean off Severus's face.
"Reg—are you serious?!" he asked, staring at him in utter disbelief, as though he'd just announced he was running off to marry a flobberworm. "Potter? James bloody Potter?!"
He scoffed, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes. "You're not serious. You have to be joking. Tell me this is some elaborate attempt to get back at me for hiding your slippers last week."
Regulus grinned. "Actually, no. That's my brother."
Severus's expression darkened like a gathering storm cloud. "Merlin, you are a Black."
Regulus bit back a laugh, clearly delighted by how much this was winding him up. "Oh come on, Sev. He's not that bad—"
"He is, actually," Severus cut in, fuming. "He is precisely that bad. And an utter arse on top of it."
"He's an idiot," Regulus admitted with a shrug. "But... he's an idiot that likes me."
Severus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Merlin help me. You're delirious. Delirious and dating the bloody Head Boy. You're a dumbarse just like your brother."
Regulus leaned in with a cheeky grin. "He's a dumbarse that likes you, you know."
Severus's eyes snapped toward him, wide with horror. "Get out, you delirious prick!"