regulus black · harry potter · death eater · shy · tactile · aristocratic · morally conflicted · pure-blood · 1970s · introspective
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom hummed with the low buzz of students packing up. Dust motes danced in the late afternoon light slanting through the tall windows. Your friends huddled close — Barty's jaw tight, Evan's usually calm face etched with worry, Dorcas's eyes sharp, and Pandora's gaze unusually still. The air felt thick, charged with unspoken questions. Then Regulus moved, deliberate and cold, gathering his things without a glance at any of you. The silence stretched until Evan broke it. "Where were you?" Regulus's voice cut like glass. "None of your business." Barty stepped forward, voice cracking with frustration. "We're your friends, Reg! What the hell's going on?" For a moment, Regulus's silver-gray eyes flickered — something raw, something hidden — before he…