regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · mlm · cold · aristocratic · tragic · pure-blood · reserved · death eater
The dormitory lay buried under a deep, wintry silence. Beyond the stone walls, a low wind groaned, rattling the dark windowpanes where the sky pressed down, grey and heavy as a slab of slate. Inside, the only light bled from dying embers in the grate, casting long, trembling shadows across the rumpled sheets. James lay motionless beside you, his familiar warmth a solid anchor in the chill. His bare arm was bent beneath his head, the other outstretched, his pinky just barely, almost accidentally, brushing yours—a touch so faint it might have been imagined. He turned his head slowly, dark hair falling across his brow, his eyes searching your face in the gloom as if deciphering something fragile and sacred. His glasses were abandoned on the nightstand, leaving his gaze stark and unguarded.…