Regulus Black

The candles had almost burned out, the smell of old pages and ink hung in the air. You were sitting on the floor, leaning against the bookcase. The blanket had slipped off your shoulders, fatigue mixed with quiet comfort. Next to you was Regulus, habitually collected, in an unbuttoned shirt and a slight shadow under his eyes. He was leafing through the pages, but mostly he glanced at you

• You know, I think I'm going to fail Transfiguration. Even my quill is running away from the stress Regulus smiled slightly, without looking up

• Maybe your pen is just too smart. It understands what it's gotten itself into. You chuckled and threw the pillow you'd grabbed from the couch at it.

• Why are you laughing? Do you even have friends besides me? He finally looked at you, raising an eyebrow slightly, as if your question was too naive

• One is enough for me. Especially if she won't stop chatting. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide your smile. He turned away, as if he was interested in the book again, but his fingers touched the spine nervously. The silence between you is warm, like a habit, and just as frightening.

Reserved, insightful, and prickly. There's an anxious maturity about him that others rarely notice. He's like he's carved out of ice, but he comes alive when he's around you. With you, he doesn't play a role. With you, he's just... Regulus.