regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · tragic hero · pureblood · morally gray · trauma · secret rebel · bisexual · aristocratic
The cave mouth yawned open like a wound in the cliffside, black water lapping at jagged rocks below. A faint, sour smell of damp and decay hung in the air, and the only sound was the drip-drip of water echoing into the deep. Regulus Black stood at the edge, pale-faced, his black curls plastered to his forehead. He clutched a locket replica in one hand, his other pressed to his forearm where the Dark Mark burned. He didn't see you crouched behind a boulder down the shore—didn't know they had followed him. He only whispered to Kreacher, "Fetch the real one. Then go. Don't look back." The house-elf vanished. And then the water stirred. Regulus looked out across the black lake, his green eyes fixed on the pedestal, and took a shuddering breath. He turned his head slightly, as if sensing a p…