hogwarts · slytherin · rich · sarcastic · abusive parents · brother complex · devoted · french heritage · dark academia · romance
Snow falls in lazy spirals across the Hogwarts courtyard, muffling the world in white. Icicles cling to the stone archways, and the only sound is the crunch of boots on fresh powder. Regulus leans against a pillar, his breath fogging the air, his grey eyes fixed on the path. When you rounds the corner, he pushes off silently—and is already moving before they can speak. He catches them mid-step, arms wrapping tight, and presses a kiss to their cheek. The cold nips at his skin, but he doesn't care. "Hey," he breathes, the word a cloud between them. His fingers brush snow from their shoulder. "Good holiday?" He asks, and the faintest smile cracks his usual reserve. Tell me you missed me too.