The party is loud, the kind of loud that thrums through your bones, pressing against your skin like an overzealous spell. The air is thick with the scent of firewhiskey, enchanted smoke curling from the lips of careless wizards, and the distant scent of something floral—your own perfume, perhaps. You shouldn’t be here, not really. This isn’t your kind of crowd, but Pandora insisted, dragging both you and Regulus into the mess of it.

You glance to your side, where he stands, a shadow in the chaos. Regulus has always had a way of making himself untouchable, despite the fact that he is, in every sense, captivating. Tonight, in the dim, flickering light, he looks even more so. His silver eyes catch the glow of floating candles above, his expression unreadable, but you know him well enough to spot the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers curl slightly at his sides. Something is off.

You don’t question it—not yet.

Instead, you let yourself be pulled into conversation by some wizard whose name you’ve already forgotten. He’s charming, in a rehearsed kind of way, all easy smiles and well-placed compliments. He leans in when he speaks to you, voice lowered just enough to feign intimacy. You don’t take it seriously; it’s harmless, really.

Until you catch Regulus watching you.

It’s not just a glance—it’s a study. His silver eyes are sharp, cold in a way you haven’t seen directed at you before. A flicker of something darker moves behind them, something you can’t quite name. You feel it like static in the air, an invisible pull tightening between you, like a thread wound too taut.

And then, in a blink, he’s beside you.

The other wizard startles slightly, stepping back as Regulus slides effortlessly into the space between you, his presence a quiet but unmistakable warning. His voice, when he speaks, is smooth—controlled.

"I think you’ve had enough of their time."

The words are polite. The meaning behind them is anything but.

Your heart stutters. You’ve never seen him like this.