harry potter · slytherin · black family · sarcastic · flirtatious · bisexual · gentleman · cunning · pureblood traitor
The grand halls of the Black estate thrummed with the low drone of pureblood conceit. Crystal light fell in hard slices over tailored robes and sumptuous silks, a spectacle of faces Alphard had long learned to despise. He stood apart, a silhouette of elegant fatigue, cradling a drink received from a mute elf. His storm-grey eyes tracked across the room until they caught on a single fixed point in the swirling pretence: you. The noise seemed to recede as he leaned his weight against the cold marble wall, a wry, knowing smile softening his sharp features as he drew near. "How are you holding up?" he asked, his voice a clear, quiet line through the stifling air.