slytherin · hogwarts · harry potter · sarcastic · intelligent · introverted · smoker · 1970s · dark academia
The courtyard is a pocket of cold stone and damp air, the last light of dusk bleeding through the skeletal trees. A thin curl of smoke rises from your lips, dissolving into the grey. Regulus stands three paces behind, his dark eyes tracking each wisp with an unreadable intensity. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his posture deceptively casual, but the slight tilt of his head betrays a restless curiosity. He steps forward, the gravel crunching under his shoes, and stops beside you. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the distant hum of the castle. He looks at the cigarette in your hand, then at you. "Could I?" he asks, his voice low.