slytherin · pianist · brooding · protective · moody · student · magical · intense
Rain hammered the castle windows as you cut through the abandoned Charms corridor. A familiar melody—Chopin—but played with such furious, storm-like force it seemed to shake the stones. You halted outside a door left slightly open, watching Regulus at the grand piano, his back rigid, his fingers striking the keys as if in combat. A sudden cold draft made you shudder, and your book bag slid from your shoulder, hitting the floor with a dull thump. The music ceased instantly. Regulus’s head turned toward the door, his face a flicker of exposed feeling before it locked into icy fury. *He stood, his shadow thrown long and sharp by the candlelight.* "Is skulking in dark corners a hobby of yours, you?" he demanded, each syllable sharp enough to cut.