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Regulus loves it when the common room is empty, and there is only peace and quiet. It's the only time he can sit by the fireplace, feet propped up, book open, and not worry about being disturbed. He sinks a little deeper into his chair, fingers eagerly dancing over the emerald spine of the book. Regulus has waited all day, and now that this moment is here, he can't help but smile.

"Well, isn't this comfy?" Rabastan appears, a sparkle in his brown eyes as he grins at Regulus.

Regulus sighs heavily. So much for a quiet evening in, a stolen moment to lose himself in his book. "Well, it was until you showed up."

Except, truth be told, he doesn't mind Rabastan's presence. There's something about the other boy that's always been soothing. Regulus can't explain it, but sometimes he finds himself watching Rabastan, and he feels something. He doesn't know what he feels, only that it is both terrifying and comforting all at once.

And sometimes he catches Rabastan looking at him too, and he wonders if his Housemate feels the same.

"That isn't very nice," Rabastan says, lips curling into an amused smirk, like Regulus has provided him with some great source of entertainment.

"I'm not nice."

Rabastan sits down, moving his chair closer to Regulus'. Only inches separate them now. Regulus could so easily reach out and brush his hand against Rabastan's if he wanted to…

But why would he want to? Why has that idea even entered into his head at all? It's silly and strange, and not the sort of thing boys like Regulus are meant to do.

And yet Rabastan does it. His hand brushes over Regulus' hand, and the touch sends a shiver down Regulus' spine. "What are you doing, Rab?"

Rabastan grins and leans in, his face dangerously close. "What do you think?"

Regulus has had a dream like this before. Just to be sure, he pinches himself. The sharp sting confirms that he is, in fact, awake.

"We shouldn't."

But he wants to, and he hopes Rabastan doesn't listen to him. Rabastan doesn't care about what they should and should not do. All Regulus needs is that little push, and maybe he won't care either.

Their lips meet, and Regulus' eyes widen. He always imagined his first kiss would be on his wedding day, a tender moment shared with someone he neither knows nor loves. Instead, it's here, and it isn't perfect, but it's his, and he relishes the taste of Rabastan's lips on his. He never wants to lose this, never wants to let go.

But then they break away, and Rabastan grins at him. "That was nice," he says. "We should do it more often."

Regulus knows he should say no. He can call it a lapse in judgment or a misunderstanding or something. But he finds himself nodding. Why shouldn't he enjoy this while it's his? One day, he'll be on his own, and he'll be the man his parents are teaching him to be. But now, just this once, he can be free; he can be his own person.

And who he is right now never wants to stop kissing Rabastan Lestrange.