A Fresh Bouquet; Reunion Preview
He doesn’t remember falling asleep.
Even though it is his second time upon them, the mugglemade sheets are just as scratchy as the first; blessedly there is no muggle scented ‘freshener’. No, this is house-elf clean, that is familiar.
This time it’s just his hands and wrists bare; he’s still wearing his shoes.
Amusement bubbles up in his chest, recalling the face Evans had made the last time his footwear had been in contact with her bedding. A different bed, a different time. And Evans…
Slowly, Regulus tilts his head to a side, the pillow shifting beneath his cranium, the slightest rustle of sheets alarmingly loud.
She’s sprawled out beside him now, the most unguarded expression he has ever witnessed upon her sleeping face. All the defences are down; the knight that cut so harshly with words made steel, the archer that fired those oh so sharp glares with pinpoint accuracy, both are missing.
Now there’s no castle to defend, he’s found himself within the fortress and Evans sleeps as a dragon would, the protective bulk of her magic curling around the room, sheltering her hoard.
Perhaps he should feel flattered he’s been allowed in at all.
Or perhaps he’s part of the hoard, another oddity collected and stored.
Stored, not treasured. Regulus isn’t too sure he knows enough about Evans to be sure if she’s capable of treasuring something.
But, as he’s come to realise recently, there’s a whole lot he doesn’t know about Evans.