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Regulus is not sick.
He doesn’t do germs.
He has the immune system of a vulture; he made sure of it when he was little.
And yet, here he is.
In his dorm, sulking, and sneezing on every surface in his vicinity.
Barty and Evan are nowhere to be found- Infact, they’re probably avoiding him like the plague.
He wants nothing more than to curl up in his bed, with his blanket, and just seep into his bed.
Unfortunately for him, there is currently one insufferably cute Griffindor on the way to his dorm.
“James, I’m telling you, Regulus doesn’t do comfort, not when he’s ill.”
A pause, and a huff, because James Potter, the epitome of sunshine and comfort, seems to be dead set on helping his boyfriend out.
Remus grabs James, forcing him to stop and look at him to the best of his ability.
James rolls his eyes, firmly holding a box of dark chocolate and tissues.
”Moony, please, how hard can this be?”
”Well—
“He’s sick, and hurting, and I can’t just let him suffer alone, okay?”
Remus slides his hand off the other boy, leaning onto his cane with a sigh.
”Fine.”
”But when he hexes you, I won’t say I told you so.” He says, already turning back to the Griffindor dorm.
James turns to the entrance of the Slytherin dorm, taking a breath before clearly calling out the password.
“Silverpuff.”
As he steps inside, he notices it seems a bit quieter than usual.
Maybe they’re just out. Regulus is sick, after all, and his friends aren’t exactly known for having great immune systems.
A knock.
“Reg?”
Another.
”Regulus, it’s me, James.”
Regulus groans, momentarily burying his face into his pillow.
His head has been throbbing for the last two hours and everything just feels so.. bad.
“Regulus, I know you’re in there.”
A pause.
“I know you don’t like being sick but I only want to help.”
A couple seconds later, Regulus speaks, his voice croaky and weird.
”Go away.”
”I have chocolate.”
He sighs, mumbling a soft, “Come in.”
He squeezes his eyes shut as a beam of light passes through the crack in the door as James slides in.
The room is pitch black, and smells a bit of sweat, with a great pile of used tissues on the side table and a grouchy Regulus under the covers.
He puts the two boxes on an empty spot on the floor and slides in, next to him.
Instead of the expected complaints, Regulus immediately wraps himself around James, nuzzling his face into James’s neck.
He chuckles, arms coming up around him and into his sweaty hair.
”If I had my wand, you’d be hexed by now.”
”I know, love, I know.”
A few seconds pass.
Silence.
Sweet, blessed silence.
With James’s hand toying with his curls and lightly scratching his scalp, he almost relaxes.
A sigh.
“You’re like a human furnace,” he mumbles as he gently pulls James closer, giving up on the whole reserved act.
”Glad to be of service,” James teases.
And, as they lay there, in the darkness, Regulus had a thought.
Two thoughts, actually.
One of which he would never admit aloud.
One: Maybe being sick wasn’t so bad, what with someone there.
And Two: He just loves this idiot.
This sweet, selfless idiot.
But his idiot.
So yeah. Regulus doesn’t do sick.
Or maybe, he doesn’t do solitude.
But nobody has to know.
Nobody except him, and his idiot.