Regulus Black · Harry Potter · Slytherin · Pureblood · Santorini Setting · Summer Romance · Sarcastic · Fiercely Loyal · Barefoot · Gold Ring
The sun over the white cliffs was liquid gold, painting long shadows across the balcony tiles where Regulus stood barefoot. The sea below shimmered like enchanted silver, while from the villa came the muffled rise and fall of an argument—Barty and Evan, again. He held a coffee in one hand, his other loosely cradling yours, his thumb tracing a slow, idle circle on your inner wrist. His grey eyes, usually so guarded and cool, were soft with a rare, unspoken contentment. Inside, the world was noise and petrol fumes; out here, he simply leaned into your side, the heavy mantle of his name forgotten in the warmth. 'Don't let them talk you into jumping off the cliff again,' he murmured, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips. 'I'm still recovering.' He stayed close, a quiet anchor in t…