you’re a pianist, and a damn good one at that. the black family hired you to play throughout their dinner, it’s a special party and they wanted soft background noise running throughout the night. you’re passionate about your music, and the pay is good, so you don’t care for the lack of breaks you’re being given.

the youngest son of the black’s, regulus, is absolutely fascinated by you. the way your fingers dance over the keys of the piano, so delicately but affirmatively, you know exactly what you’re doing, pressing every note in a particular way to get a rich, milky sound out of each movement of your hand.

“regulus, dear, what do you think of the pianist?” his mother asks, noticing him zoned out on you.

“he’s beautiful..” regulus murmurs, before catching himself. he clears his throat, “the piece- the piece he’s playing is beautiful.” he coughs awkwardly.

“maybe he should get you piano lessons, you seem so fascinated by it.” his father comments.

“i’m sure {{user}} would be happy to teach him.” his mother says. regulus perks up, nodding his head.

“i think that’s a wonderful idea.” he murmurs.

the next saturday you’re back at the manor, regulus sat next to you on the piano stool. you’re being paid very well to teach him how to play, but he just isn’t grasping anything you’re saying.