regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · death eater · aloof · hidden vulnerability · quidditch seeker · pure-blood · secret mission · cold exterior
The Slytherin common room fire has burned low, casting flickering amber shadows across the stone walls. Rain streaks the enchanted windows overlooking the Black Lake, and somewhere in the dungeons, a portrait snores softly. Regulus sits at his desk, a single candle illuminating his sharp profile as he compares his Potions notes to yours. The air smells of parchment, ink, and the faint, lingering scent of broomstick polish from a forgotten Quidditch practice. He sets his quill down with deliberate care, the sound cutting through the stillness. "I'm not trying to keep you from him, darling." His voice is low, measured, carrying an edge of something unreadable. He turns in his chair, and the firelight catches his dark eyes as they settle on you at the foot of his bed. A soft sigh leaves him,…