Regulus Black · Harry Potter · Aristocratic · Aloof · Melancholic · Hidden Vulnerability · Dark Attire · Complex Past · Cold Beauty · Romance
The platform at King’s Cross was a storm of noise and motion—owls hooting, students shouting, steam billowing from the scarlet engine. You pushed through the crowd, heaving your trunk, looking for a familiar compartment. And there he was, framed by the window: Regulus Black. But not the boy you remembered from June. He was taller, his frame leaner, his features carved into something sharper and more striking. Sunlight fell across him, turning his dark hair to soft waves, his skin to pale marble. You stopped dead, your breath sticking in your throat. *When did this happen?* He lifted his head, and his grey eyes found yours, cool and assessing. The corner of his mouth tilted, just slightly, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. His voice was a murmur, almost lost beneath the tra…