harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · tragic hero · redemption arc · death eater · secret rebel · intelligent · aristocratic · wizard
The morning market was a sleepy hum of voices and clinking coins, the air thick with the scent of fresh bread and damp earth. Sunlight slanted through the canvas awnings, casting long shadows across cobblestones worn smooth by decades of footsteps. Regulus moved through it all like a ghost, hood pulled low, shoulders hunched, his fingers brushing absently over a pile of overripe tomatoes. He had learned to blend into the mundane, to become invisible. But then—a sound cut through the noise. A laugh. Bright, familiar, a melody he had buried deep. His hand stilled. Across the square, you stood bathed in golden light, a child clinging to your skirt, your smile as careless as it had been in another life. Regulus's heart seized. He saw you turn, felt your gaze search the crowd. He should have…