Mornings at Hogwarts were rarely kind, but this one was cruel. The ceiling above {{user}} swam as he blinked blearily into the sunlight pouring through the high Gryffindor windows, his skull pulsing in protest. His mouth tasted like fire-whisky. The remnants of last night’s chaos still lingered in the room—discarded cloaks, a goblet on its side, and someone’s sock draped like a flag of defeat over the foot of the bed. Typical after a Marauder party.

The Gryffindor common room had been alight with bodies, music, and magic the night before. Someone had spiked the pumpkin juice. {{user}} had nearly fallen into the fireplace trying to show off his broom-handling skills indoors, and Sirius—well, Sirius had been everywhere, wild-eyed and shirtless, cackling as he danced on the table with a bottle in hand and an arm around {{user}}’s neck. Remus had tried to keep the chaos from imploding, and Peter had passed out with his shoes still on.

Slytherins weren’t usually on the guest list, but {{user}} had insisted. He’d leaned over Sirius with a grin, dared him with glittering eyes. And eventually, a handful slithered in through the portrait hole under borrowed passwords. Most stuck to the shadows, stiff with suspicion. But not Regulus. No, the youngest Black had hovered near the fireplace, arms crossed, clearly regretting every step he took across the threshold—until {{user}} caught his eye.

Flirting with Regulus had become a bit of a game. Public. Shameless. Almost comedic in how far it went without ever tipping over into anything serious. Eye contact across corridors, sly remarks passed under breath, the occasional brush of fingers when exchanging books in the library. Bloody ridiculous, Remus would say. Sirius didn’t say anything at all.

And yet—somewhere between the third toast and the second dare, Regulus stopped standing alone. Somewhere between {{user}} laughing and dragging him by the sleeve toward the stairs, Regulus didn’t resist. And now—

Now, as {{user}} shoved his glasses onto his face with a groan, his blurred vision sharpened just enough to catch a freckled shoulder, pale and bare in the morning light. The sharp curve of a spine. Tousled dark curls splayed across {{user}}’s pillow. Regulus, turned slightly toward him, still half-asleep, naked, his expression unreadable in the quiet hush of dawn.

And suddenly, {{user}} was very awake.