ᴏᴍɴɪꜱᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ✵ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ✵

𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

☾ ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ☽

»»-------≪ °❈° ≫-------««

"You've had that vial for weeks now, Reg," says Evan. Despite the veil of thick smoke that shrouds their surroundings, his groggy eyes reveal a noticeable pink tint across white lattice. All while he inspects Regulus, his arm that extends toward Barty bounces with anticipation for the joint to be passed. "When will you put Felix to use?"

"Soon."

Apparently his already thin thread of patience snaps, because Evan digs his elbow into Barty's side. Barty jerks his head to glare at him properly, but as if in synchronisation, the pair bursts out with hysterical guffaws. A common occurrence when his friends are high, and even though Regulus doesn't partake in the green herbs, their convulsions are so contagious he can't resist the subtle upward quirk of his mouth.

"Lay off him, Ev," Barty asserts once their cachinnations start to cease. After another lengthy drag from the spliff, he hands it to Evan at last and plumes out a cloud of smoke. "Reg will burn that bridge when he comes to it."

Regulus blinks at him. "I think it's cross."

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"I'm just saying," Evan wheezes out. A hacking cough treads on his words and he pounds on his chest for at least twenty seconds before adding hoarsely, "Time is precious. If you're going to waste it, at least do it wisely."

The blond may be stoned out of his mind, but he speaks words of truth, surprisingly wise ones at that. October passed in the blink of an eye, and November seems to follow in its speedy footsteps. All Regulus has done is observe the vial as his fingers twiddle with it, just like he does currently, sprawled across his bed.

Regulus convinced himself that he awaits the perfect opportunity, which he isn't quite sure will be, nevertheless come at all. Maybe it is only his way of stalling. Regardless, with the holiday break rapidly approaching, he'll need to make a move soon. He can't come home empty-handed.

Evan pinches the roach to extinguish its ember, then peeks up hopefully. "Roll another for us?"

Barty is suddenly somber. "That was the last of it, mate."

"Thanks for ruining my day."

"Grow up," Barty drawls. With a flick to Evan's face, he rises from his spot upon the carpet. "Let's go to the green house, Angry Steve will be there."

Regulus' forehead creases. "Who?"

"Angry Steve," Evan repeats with a sort of enthusiasm as he throws on his cloak and adjusts the lapels. "Seventh year Hufflepuff, notorious for the strains of weed he gets."

"Why is he angry?"

"He isn't," Barty releases a hearty laugh. "He's actually the calmest bloke ever."

Evan snickers. "And his real name is David."

Regulus' lips part to ask more questions, but thinks perhaps it's best not to. The two halt their departure simultaneously when they realise he doesn't move to follow them.

"You coming, Reg?"

"I'll meet you there," Regulus says.

Barty's lips tip down into a frown. "No, you won't."

"Yeah, I probably won't," he confesses with a half-suppressed chuckle.

"Prat."

The door clicks shut. In the newfound emptiness of his dorm, Regulus' attention is drawn back to his thumb and index finger that twist the tiny bottle. Its golden contents gleam in the honeyed light of evening that pours through the window. After a moment's reflection, he shifts his body upright against the headboard and flicks the top open.