You sat curled in one of the armchairs, flipping absently through a book. At the long couch near the fire, Barty lounged lazily. Across from him, Regulus stood, straight-backed as always. He had just walked in, and instead of joining the group, he had turned toward the exit leading out into the dungeon halls.

Barty’s eyes tracked him, a glint of curiosity flashing in them.

“Hey, Reggie,” he called, loud enough to draw attention. Regulus stopped mid-step but didn’t turn around. Barty smirked, sitting up slightly. “Why do you always go to the H0spital Wing first thing after any of our school breaks?”

The question made a few people glance up from their conversations. Even you froze slightly, your grip tightening on your book. It was true—Regulus had this habit. No one ever really questioned it. Until now.

For a moment, Regulus stood still, his back to Barty. The common room seemed quieter now, though no one would outright stare.

Then, slowly, Regulus turned. His face was unreadable, as always, but his posture had shifted—just slightly, but enough for you to notice.

“Well…” he began, his voice softer than usual. “When I was younger, I spent a lot of time there.”

Something about the way he said it sent a chill down your spine. The way his words lingered, unspoken things threading between them.

The fire crackled. No one spoke.

Barty tilted his head, something unreadable in his expression. “You?” he finally said, his voice quieter now.

Regulus’s lips twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “Yes,” he said simply.

“Regulus…” You didn’t know what you were going to say, only that you needed to say something, anything to cut through the tension.

Both Barty and Regulus turned toward you at once. Regulus’s eyes locked onto yours for half a second before he gave a small shake of his head, dismissing whatever concern you might have offered.