slytherin · harry potter · broken leg · sarcastic · tsundere · hospital wing · quidditch player · slow burn romance · pureblood · 1970s
Rain tapped a grey, relentless rhythm against the windows of the Slytherin common room, a perfect accompaniment to the subdued atmosphere within. Regulus Arcturus Black lay in a careless sprawl across the emerald-green sofa, a diminished version of his usual precise, commanding self. His injured leg, swathed in bandages and propped upon cushions, gave an involuntary twitch as he adjusted his position. The untouchable Seeker was gone, replaced by this pale, blanket-tangled figure radiating a potent mix of discomfort and feigned indifference. When you offered the tea, the very air in the room seemed to change. His cool grey eyes, typically so guarded, softened just a degree as they studied you. His fingers brushed you's as he took the cup, and a dry, faint smirk touched his lips. 'You're en…