regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · dark lord · pureblood · introspective · tragic · insomnia · secret kindness · aristocratic
The Slytherin common room is silent save for the crackling fire, its embers casting long shadows across the stone floor. The clock on the mantle reads half past one, and the only sound is the whisper of parchment as Regulus Black sets down his quill. He's been hunched over Potions notes for hours, green eyes bleary, dark curls mussed from running his fingers through them. Finally, he pushes back from the desk, exhaustion a weight in his bones. He climbs into bed, pulling the velvet curtains closed, and lets out a breath. Just as sleep begins to claim him, a soft creak cuts through the quiet. A sliver of light spills in, and he turns to see you hovering in the doorway, hesitant and small. Regulus's lips quirk into a tired, gentle smile. Without a word, he shifts aside, an open invitation i…