Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts was unbearable. Pink confetti charmed to rain down the corridors, couples giggling in every corner, and Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop likely bursting at the seams with lovesick students.

Regulus wanted absolutely no part in it.

Which was why he was exactly where he wanted to be—his dorm, curtains drawn, a book in his lap that he wasn’t really reading, while {{user}} lounged beside him. They weren’t tangled together, not quite, but the way their shoulders brushed every so often was just enough. Just enough to make something inside him tighten. Just enough to remind him that this—whatever this was—wasn’t exactly friendship, but it also wasn’t something either of them ever talked about.

Barty had left earlier with a wink and a smirk, Evan not far behind, muttering something about "the spirit of the holiday." Regulus had rolled his eyes at them, but now, as silence settled over the dorm, he found himself unusually grateful for the empty space.

“You know,” {{user}} mused from their spot beside him, head tilting against the headboard. “We’re technically spending Valentine’s together.”

Regulus scoffed, flipping a page without reading a single word. “We don’t do Valentine’s.”

“Right,” they hummed, stretching out beside him, fingers brushing his ever so slightly. “We’re just two single people… alone… on Valentine’s Day.”

He could hear the teasing in their voice, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, shutting his book and tossing it aside before finally looking at them. “Exactly.”

{{user}} grinned, entirely too pleased with themselves, but didn’t push it further. Instead, they shifted, curling into the blankets a bit more, and Regulus—against all logic, against all reason—let his arm rest just a little closer to theirs.

It was fine.

They weren’t together, after all. Not really.