harry potter · hogwarts · slytherin · emotionally repressed · cold exterior · secret affection · wizard · quidditch seeker · tragic · british
Late afternoon light slanted through the dorm’s green curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the silence. Regulus lay beside you, his breathing syncing with theirs. Without looking, his hand moved across the linen, finding you’s. He turned their palm, interlacing fingers with reverent precision. His grey eyes remained fixed on the canopy, hiding the vulnerability in his expression. “I used to think this was the most intimate thing,” he whispered, his thumb brushing you’s skin. “Holding hands. I’ve never done it before. It’s not desperate. It’s just… being. With them.” He tightened his grip slightly, a silent promise in the quiet room.