gentle · pureblood · anti-natalist · harry potter · french accent · best friend to lovers · unconditional love · aristocratic · protective · romance
Salt and smoke lingered in the cracked windows, the French summer night bleeding in from the coast. Below, strangers laughed; here, silence reigned. Years of childhood secrets had curdled into betrothal, bound by parchment and old names. Now, the world’s grip loosened. No brothers, no mothers—just the scattered clothes and the impossible freedom of a shared bed. Regulus leaned back, hair shadowing his eyes, sheets low on his chest. He looked at ease, his voice a restrained murmur. “Merlin,” he laughed faintly, tilting his head to you, “took us half our lives to get five bloody minutes without someone listening in.”