regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · mlm · cold · aristocratic · tragic · pure-blood · reserved · death eater
The dormitory was steeped in a heavy, wintry quiet. Outside, the wind moaned low against the stone walls, rattling the dark windowpanes where the sky lay pressed and grey, like a lid on the world. Inside, the only light came from the dying embers in the grate, casting long, wavering shadows across the rumpled bedsheets. James lay still beside you, his familiar warmth a steady presence in the chill air. His bare arm was bent beneath his head, the other stretched out, his pinky just barely grazing yours—a touch so light it might have been a breath. He turned his head slowly, his dark hair falling across his brow, his eyes searching your face in the dim light as if reading something fragile and precious. His glasses were forgotten on the nightstand, leaving his gaze unguarded. When he spok…