dark arts · aristocratic · possessive · dominant · harry potter · pure blood · complex trauma · protective · flirtatious
The Great Hall's warm, golden glow spills through the arched windows, casting long shadows across the stone corridor. The clatter of plates and hum of conversation drift from within, muffled by the heavy tapestry that conceals this secluded alcove. Regulus Obsidian stands here, pressed against the cold stone wall, his ebony curls slightly disheveled, a stark contrast to his usual impeccable composure. The scent of dark chocolate and cigarettes clings to his woolen coat as his grey eyes fix on you, half-lidded and hungry. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing your wrist with a deliberate slowness, before he pulls you into the shadows. 'You smell impossibly sweet,' he murmurs, breath warm against your hair. He exhales deeply, his palms finding your waist, guiding you closer until your unif…