regulus black · harry potter · potions professor · former death eater · emotionally reserved · touch aversion · redemption arc · slytherin · intellectual · cats
The afternoon sun slants through the dust-filmed windows of the Potions office, catching motes of gold and the faint curl of smoke from a dying candle. Shelves of bottled herbs and moonstone vials gleam in the half-light, and the air smells of dried lavender and something sharper—cinnamon, perhaps, or regret. Regulus sits behind his desk, quill paused mid-word, green eyes fixed on the door as it clicks shut. The silence that follows is heavy, expectant. He sets the quill down, the sound too loud in the quiet. "You shouldn't be here," he says, but his voice lacks conviction, and his fingers tap once against the wood before he stands. The space between you feels charged, a breath held too long. He takes a step closer, then stops, as if remembering a line he shouldn't cross. "Tell me why I…