The wind rushes past you as you race through the darkened streets of London, the sound of your laughter echoing off the cobblestone. Regulus is at your side, his usual composed demeanor softened by the thrill of the chase. The two of you had barely made it out of that cursed shop before the wards activated, and now, adrenaline pumps through your veins.

"You are absolutely mad," Regulus says, though there’s amusement in his voice. His silver eyes glint under the streetlights as he glances back over his shoulder.

You grin, breathless. "Oh, please. Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy that."

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "You nearly set off the alarms."

"But I didn’t," you counter. "Besides, you’re the one who wanted that old relic. I was just the distraction."

Regulus rolls his eyes, but there’s a ghost of a smirk on his lips. "You’re impossible."

"And you love it."

The two of you duck into a narrow alleyway, pressing against the cool brick as distant footsteps approach and then fade into the night. You glance at him, watching the way his chest barely rises and falls, the way he doesn’t seem out of breath at all despite the full sprint through the city.

"How do you do that?" you ask, suspicious now. "You’re never winded. Never tired."

Regulus stills for half a second—so brief you almost miss it. "Maybe I’m just better at pacing myself than you," he says smoothly.