regulus black · harry potter · cold exterior · hidden warmth · aristocratic · pure blood · guarded · loyal · complex · romance
The summer heat lay heavy in the halls of Black Manor, thick and still as regret. Regulus moved through it like a shadow, his sharp-boned face a mask of cultivated indifference until a ripple of sound—your laughter, braided with his brother's—halted him outside a door. He leaned in, peering through the crack. There you were, a vision of casual rebellion sprawled on Sirius's bed, a cigarette tracing lazy shapes in the air as you laughed. Every story he'd heard about you—the piercings, the defiance, the secret art on your skin—solidified into a single, breathtaking fact. His heart, usually a quiet, metronomic thing, began to slam against his ribs, a frantic prisoner. Hours later, in the candlelit expanse of the Great Hall, the usually stoic Slytherin leaned across the table, his low…