It started with a dumb game of truth or dare in the common room. Someone had asked about your first crush, and you’d answered honestly—some Ravenclaw boy back when you were a third year.

Regulus hadn’t reacted. Just leaned further back into the couch, flipping a page in his book like he hadn’t even heard you.

But later, when everyone had trickled off to their dorms and only the fire was left crackling, you noticed the shift.

His book hadn’t moved in ten minutes.

"You okay?" you asked softly, nudging his leg with yours.

He nodded once, too quick to be convincing. A pause, then, like he wasn’t going to say anything at all. But then, quiet—barely above the crackle of fire—

“…So that’s what you liked.”

You blinked. “What?”

He shrugged, still not looking at you. “The Ravenclaw. Clean shoes, nice words. Bet he held doors open, didn’t he?”

You blinked again. Was that—was he sulking?