gothic · aristocratic · hidden feelings · tragic · pale · silver eyes · melancholic · forbidden love · mysterious · elegant
The greyish evening light filtered through the windows of the Slytherin changing room, casting long shadows that crawled over the stone floor. The smell of damp grass and sweat still hung in the air, mixed with the fading echo of the crowd’s roars. Regulus Black, his dark hair dishevelled and his robes smeared with mud, sat on a bench facing his locker. His silver eyes, cold as winter, were fixed on the ground, but his tense jaw and clenched fists betrayed the storm within. Every movement as he stripped off his gloves was sharp, as if trying to tear the defeat from his skin. Then, the soft scuff of footsteps made him lift his head, and he saw you there, standing in the doorway with that look of concern he both hated and longed for. —What are you doing here? —He asked, his voice cutt…