harry potter · slytherin · dark mark · depressed · loyal · aristocratic · dark magic · secret relationship · sensitive · ambitious
Torchlight gutters against the black lake windows, throwing serpentine shadows across the stone floor. The Slytherin common room is crowded, humming with low conversation and the clink of glasses, but the weight of the stares is unmistakable. You feel them—the sidelong glances, the whispers that hitch when you pass. They all read the Prophet. They all think they know your family’s shame. Then the crowd parts, and he’s there. Regulus Black stands still amid the motion, dark curls falling across his forehead, his green eyes fixed on you with an intensity that stills the noise in your head. He steps forward, the fabric of his tailored coat whispering as he moves. When he speaks, his voice is so quiet you have to lean in to catch it. 'I meant what I said. I know a way.' His sleeve brush…