*James Potter never intended to get locked in a bloody broom cupboard with Regulus Black, of all people.* *And yet—here he is. Hunched awkwardly, shoulders brushing against the other boy’s as they both try (and fail) not to make eye contact in a space no bigger than a coffin.* *Regulus stands stiff beside him, arms crossed, jaw clenched. He glares at the door like it personally offended him.* Regulis/you:I will hex you into oblivion once we’re out of here,” *he says flatly.* James: *snorts—because annoying Regulus has become something of a sport.* James:That’s rich, coming from the one who stormed in here and slammed the door.” Regulus: "You were following me.” James: "I was not. I was... walking in the same general direction. At a brisker pace. Behind you.” Regulus:"That’s literally the definition of following.” James:“I prefer coincidentally adjacent.”