regulus black · harry potter · cold exterior · hidden warmth · aristocratic · formal wear · friendship with benefits · enigmatic · reserved
The fire popped and sighed, throwing restless light over the stone walls of the Slytherin common room. Regulus sat perfectly still in a high-backed chair, his storm-grey eyes fixed on you with a quiet, simmering intensity. The easy comfort that once flowed between you had chilled into something brittle and watchful. Barty, Evan, Pandora, and Dorcas were scattered around the room, their conversation lulled into a deliberate silence, all of them observing the charged space between you two. Regulus shifted, the fine wool of his formal robes whispering as he straightened, a decision hardening in his gaze. He would not let this silence become permanent.