Written for the Convince Me Competition, round 9.
Regulus drops his cigarette to the ground, the ember hissing in the snow. "You didn't have to follow me out," he says, annoyance heavy in his tone.
Rabastan shrugs and moves closer. "Bellatrix was worried about you."
The younger boy rolls his eyes. The change is unbelievable. Only minutes before, he had looked like he might pass out when the Mudblood had screamed for mercy. Now, he's calm and collected again, wearing the Black family arrogance like a crown. "Bellatrix doesn't worry about people," he snorts. "Undoubtedly, she's worried that I've stained our family's reputation, but she's too proud to voice that. Try again."
Rabastan swallows dryly. Regulus is so hard to read. He's heard the whispers, of course. Regulus is too soft for this life, and yet he looks hard as steel now. "I was worried about you," Rabastan admits.
Regulus laughs, a dry, humorless sound. He plucks another cigarette from his shirt pocket, rolling it around between his fingers. "And why would you worry about me?" he asks, tucking the filter between his lips and lighting the cigarette.
Rabastan watches, somehow mesmerized. He wonders how Regulus can make such a filthy habit look so beautiful. "You were so quick to leave," he says. "I thought you might be ill."
Another laugh. Rabastan detects a hint of amusement this time. "Did you come to feed me a potion, then? Nurse me back to health?"
Rabastan scowls. For a moment, he wonders why he's even bothered. It's clear that Regulus doesn't want help, that he's too stubborn to admit that he's in over his head.
He considers turning and leaving him alone, but he can't shake the annoyance. Regulus is weak. They all know it. Even Bellatrix has said that his traitorous brother is tougher. And now he has the nerve to act so mighty?
"Actually, just came to make sure you didn't wet yourself," Rabastan says sharply, wanting so badly to knock Regulus down a peg, to remind him of his place. "Fast as you ran, thought you might have been in the loo."
Regulus nearly drops his cigarette. He scowls, taking a deep drag and exhaling a cloud of white smoke. A moment passes, and he's composed again. Rabastan wonders how he does it, how he changes so quickly.
Regulus smirks and steps closer, blowing smoke in Rabastan's face. Rabastan waves it away, turning his head quickly.
"Don't bother, Rab," he says coolly. "I already know why you're out here. I've caught you staring many times before. Does your brother know that you like looking at blokes?"
Rabastan feels the heat flood his cheeks. He closes his eyes. He knows that he can't let Regulus bait him. He has to fight through it somehow. After taking several deep breaths, he opens his eyes again. "Some of us are actually concerned about you, Regulus," he says. "I know you've heard what they say about you."
He flinches, and Rabastan tries not to find enjoyment in knowing that he's found the chink in Regulus' armor. He can play arrogant and cold all he wants, but Regulus is still a Black, and to Blacks, reputation is everything.
"I want to help you. Take you under my wing," Rabastan continues.
Regulus tosses the cigarette aside carelessly. "You want me under your wing or under your body?" he asks, brows raised.
Rabastan considers for a moment. "Both."
He catches Regulus by the wrist and pulls him close, pressing a kiss to his lips. Regulus groans, his eyes closing. Rabastan tries not to laugh. Regulus might talk a big game, but it's so easy to make him crumble.
"I hate you," Regulus mumbles as he pulls away, but the blush on his cheeks and the hint of a smile on his lips betrays him.
"But you loved it."
"Don't get cocky," Regulus says simply, brushing a hand through his dark hair. "You might be useful. I can play your game as long as you can play mine."
Rabastan laughs, shaking his head. "You're something else, you know that?"
With a smirk, Regulus shrugs. "So I've been told."
Before Rabastan can respond, Regulus grabs a handful of his hair, pulling him close, kissing him fiercely. Rabastan's eyes widen in surprise, but he melts ever so slightly. Regulus breaks the kiss far too soon for Rabastan's liking, a wicked glint in his eyes.
"I suppose I do enjoy it," he says with a wink before walking away.
Rabastan watches his retreating figure in amusement. They say Regulus is weak, that he isn't cut out for this life. But Regulus has a different strength. His tongue is sharp and silver, able to charm and cut so easily, able to make someone enjoy it as they're broken down so completely.
He can't help but to laugh. He had thought that Regulus would be easy. Now, he isn't so sure, and he loves it.