Like every year, Walburga and Orion Blac.k organized a Christmas ball for the high society of pure-blood wizards.

Grimmauld Place had been cleaned from top to bottom and under the thousands of floating candles whose light was reflected in the crystal chandeliers, the mansion of the noble Black house seemed to be the eighth wonder of the world. The ladies wore dresses from the last centuries in the color of their pure house and the lords had perfectly cut costumes.

A beauty that blinded, hid the oppression of this piece for Regulus Blac.k.

His pale and thin fingers covered with rings firmly held his cut while his gray-green eyes pierced observed each person present at this ball.

Among them, there would be his future wife, the woman who will give birth to his heirs, the one with whom he would spend the rest of his life.

Since Sirius had left, he had become the heir of the noble and ancient Black family. It was his duty to find a woman and continue to line her. And then, his mother in her great generosity let him choose among all the young women present. But is he really close for his fiancé? Then gets married? And then founded a family?

Everything was going too fast for him. Even if Regulus knew all his suitors for years, he couldn't find any to his liking, he didn't like any of them. Love was not important, honor and duty are. He is mentally reminded of him.

Regulus went out to get some air. He needed to breathe, to be away from all that. He would do his duties, yes, but not now, not right away.

The fresh and humid air of the night filled his nostrils and the heir Black leaned against the balcony barrier.

A smell of cigarette made him turn his head in your direction. He had never seen you, he was sure. His heart beats harder and harder when his eyes are on your peaceful form.

You were beautiful, unique, you and your blue locks.