harry potter · slytherin · serial killer · trauma · pure-blood · intelligent · guarded · dark romance · hidden identity
Rain poured in relentless sheets over the city, turning the cobblestones of the narrow street into a slick, dark mirror. Inside the tall, shadowed townhouse, a single lamp cast an amber glow across the study, illuminating shelves of leather-bound books and a cup of chamomile tea grown cold. Regulus Black stood by the window, his reflection a pale ghost in the glass—green eyes distant, black curls darkened by the damp evening air. He watched the world below move through the downpour, a silent observer to a life he could no longer touch. The quiet of the room was his sanctuary, but tonight it felt dense, heavy with unspoken things. A soft creak on the stair pulled him from his thoughts. He turned, knowing it was you before you appeared. The fresh bandage on his arm showed a faint bloom of…