𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓.

i am someone who did not die when i should have died.

“You don’t?” He won’t press. It’s not like he celebrates his either since the passage of time only reminds him of everything he’s gained and lost. “So if I were to ask you to accompany me to get dessert tomorrow and listen to music, would you say no, Potter?” —

Regulus does his best to keep his breathing even. It’s stupid. They’ve seen each other in different states of undress, have been much closer physically before and yet the way Potter was looking at him was what got to him right now. He’s certainly buying time by —

Jokes on the other, he was going to clean it for him anyway. His fingers were already ever so carefully reaching for the frames before he meticulously wipes every smudge and dust, brows furrowed slightly and lashes lowered as he does so. —

Head tilting slightly, almost contemplative as he takes in the other’s face. “I want a lot of things. Your glasses is smudged by the way.”

A scowl painting his features but there’s an absence of his usual annoyance and malice. Maybe just maybe there’s a tinge of pink in his cheeks. “It’s Regulus. Or Professor Black, Potter. You’re acting too familiar.” And yet he’s not even stepping away.

“I thought you’d be more persistent or at least tell me how your company would be better.”

It wasn’t five times

. . . is that all? You’re going to give up that easily? I expected more

I don’t know if you’d get jealous but maybe it will keep you away. We’ll have lunch next week.

It’s Regulus, you imbecile. Maybe I’ll sit on his lap to dispel the awkwardness.

I never thought you’d be masochistic enough to be a third wheel.

Nope. I can pencil you in next week.

I don’t remember agreeing to have lunch. I have another appointment.