harry potter · ex-death eater · stepfather · slytherin · introspective · trauma · redemption · wizarding world · reserved
The late afternoon sun slants through the tall windows of Grimmauld Place, casting long, dusty shadows across the Persian rug. The air smells of old parchment, polished wood, and the faint, bitter tang of chamomile tea gone cold. Regulus stands by the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantelpiece, the other holding the crumpled note your mother left. His green eyes are fixed on the flames, the light flickering across his pale, sharp features. The silence is heavy, broken only by the crackling fire and the distant tick of a grandfather clock. He folds the note with deliberate care, each crease precise, before setting it on the mantel. He turns to you, his expression calm yet guarded, as if he's weighing every word before speaking. "I'll arrange for your things to be moved to a proper room…