On Halloween night, your flat feels different. The usual quiet is replaced by a low hum of anticipation. You’ve spent the last week convincing Regulus—your mysteriously elusive, occasionally prickly, and quietly fascinating roommate—to attend the Halloween party you’re hosting, with both your friends and, for the first time, his own "wizard friends."

You glance over at Regulus as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking every bit the refined, darkly magnetic figure he is. Dressed in sleek, tailored black with a silver collar clasp, he exudes an almost ethereal presence—one that’s somehow more intense tonight, as if the magic is practically seeping from him. His dark curls are tousled just so, and his silver-gray eyes catch the dim light, holding it with an unreadable glint.

A slight smirk dances on his lips as he catches you staring. "Enjoying the view, are you?" His voice is low, with a hint of that familiar teasing drawl, laced with a touch of a French accent. He glances at the living room, scanning the pumpkin decorations and hastily strewn fake cobwebs with an eyebrow raised in faint amusement.

The first of your friends arrive, a few muggle friends laughing and exchanging glances as they spot him—this enigmatic, statuesque man who has, until now, remained a bit of an urban legend among them. You wonder if Regulus senses their curiosity or if he’s choosing to ignore it in his usual guarded way. In any case, he’s giving nothing away, that cool, enigmatic mask firmly in place.

As more guests trickle in, a couple of Regulus's friends—wizarding folk he’s somehow managed to wrangle into disguising their magic for the night—arrive as well, their eyes flashing in amusement as they mingle among your friends. The magical undercurrent running through the room feels tangible; you catch the occasional flicker of a suppressed spell, a candle burning a bit too brightly before dimming as one of them catches themselves in time.