Under The Same Stars ~ Regulus Black x Reader

✨ Ch.2 ✨

Classes blurred together after that, Charms, then Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall praised my technique but frowned when I nearly turned my quill into a live ferret instead of a chalice. My concentration was off, my thoughts looping back to the same place every time the room went quiet.

Between periods, I caught sight of the Slytherins again in the corridor. The crowd of students seemed to shift instinctively to either side as they passed, like the air itself knew better than to cross them.

Regulus was in the middle, laughing quietly at something Rosier said. His laughter was soft, almost melodic, but when his gaze slid toward me, it cooled instantly.

For a second, our eyes met, mine stubborn, his unreadable.

Then he was gone, disappearing into the dungeon's shadows like he'd never been there.

After lunch, James bounded into the common room, already in his Quidditch robes.

"Team practice, everyone! First of the season, let's see what Gryffindor's got!"

Cheers erupted from the players lounging near the fire. I grinned despite myself, the familiar rush of adrenaline chasing away the morning's frustration. Flying was the one place I didn't have to think. No family feuds, no House rivalry, just wind, motion, and freedom.

I changed quickly in the locker room, the faint scent of leather polish and broomstick wax grounding me. Sirius was already leaning against the wall when I came out, twirling his Beater's bat lazily.

"You ready, Little Lightning?"

"Call me that again and I'll shove that bat where the sun doesn't shine."

He grinned. "That's the spirit."

We stepped onto the pitch together. The autumn air was crisp, the sky a pale blue dome above us. The grass gleamed with dew. My heart always stuttered a little at the sight of the hoops glinting in the distance, at the way the whole world seemed to narrow to this one perfect field.

But my moment of peace didn't last.

Across the pitch, a second group of players emerged, green robes flashing in the light.

Slytherin.

Leading them was Evan Rosier, broom slung over one shoulder, smugness radiating off him. And beside him, of course, Regulus.

James' grin faltered. "Oh, for Merlin's sake."

Rosier called out, "You're on our slot, Potter."

James folded his arms. "Check again. We booked this for two o'clock."

"So did we," Rosier replied coolly. "Maybe your handwriting's just as sloppy as your plays."

The tension snapped taut between them.

I stood a few paces back, my broom in hand, glaring at the green-clad figures. Regulus caught my eye and tilted his head slightly, not smug, exactly, but challenging.

And before I could think better of it, the words burst out of me.

"Then let's settle it with a match!"

At the exact same moment, Regulus said...

"Let's settle it with a match."

We froze.

The silence that followed was broken by Sirius muttering, "Oh, bloody brilliant."

I lifted my chin. "Perfect. I could use a warm-up." My voice came out steady, sharp. "I'll try to go easy on you."

A faint curve tugged at Regulus' lips. "Try not to fall off your broom this time, Potter. It would be a shame for Gryffindor to lose their favourite little mascot."

My jaw clenched. The nerve of him.

So I did the only reasonable thing, flipped him off.

Gasps and laughter rippled through both teams. James groaned, "Y/N..."

Too late. I was already turning away, stalking back toward the red huddle. Behind me, I heard it, a quiet, unmistakable chuckle. His fake, polite chuckle.

"Alright," James said, clapping his hands together once we'd regrouped. "Let's make this quick and brutal. We'll show them exactly why Gryffindor owns this field."

Sirius swung his bat experimentally. "And if Rosier gets in the way, well, accidents happen."

"Try not to get us banned from the first match of the year," Remus called from the stands, having taken it upon himself to act as referee. Peter waved a clipboard beside him, grinning nervously.

"GOODLUCK!" He yelled.

I took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. The light was shifting to amber, the shadows stretching long across the grass. For a moment, it was just me and the promise of open air.

I wasn't going to let some pompous Slytherin, no matter how annoyingly good-looking, get the better of me. Not here. Not ever.

"Mount up!" James shouted.

The teams lined up mid-field, brooms hovering. Rosier and James exchanged nods, tense, forced. Regulus drifted into position opposite me, his posture perfect, eyes cool and unreadable.

"Ready?" Remus raised his wand. "Three... two... one!"

The whistle blew.

I kicked off hard, the rush of wind roaring in my ears. The pitch blurred beneath me, crimson robes whipping around as I shot forward. The Quaffle streaked through the air, I lunged, fingers grazing it just as another hand closed around it at the same time.

Regulus.

Our eyes met over the Quaffle, only inches apart. For a heartbeat, everything went still, the world holding its breath. Then we both yanked backward. The ball slipped free, tumbling.

I dove, faster than thought, hair whipping across my face. My fingers closed around it a split second before his did. Triumph flared through me.

"Better luck next time, Black!" I shouted over my shoulder.

But when I glanced back, he was already there, right on my tail, blue-grey eyes locked on me, a smirk ghosting his lips.

The wind tore through my hair, the pitch a blur beneath me, and somewhere to my right, Regulus Black was flying like a shadow I couldn't shake.

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~~~

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TBC