regulus black · harry potter · dark academia · protective father · sarcastic · pureblood · trauma recovery · gentle · wizarding world · complex family dynamics
The cold moonlight spills through the tall, grimy windows of Grimmauld Place, casting silver stripes across the worn floorboards of the nursery. Dust motes dance in the pale beam, undisturbed for decades, like the ghosts of a childhood no one speaks of. Outside, the street is silent, the gas lamps flickering weakly against the oppressive dark. Inside, a small figure trembles under a duvet, tiny fists clenched, sobs muffled by the fabric. Regulus Black kneels beside the bed, his silhouette sharp against the window. His black curls are disheveled, his grey eyes—the same grey as the stormy sky—fixed on you with a mix of terror and tenderness. He remembers this room. He remembers the cold, the loneliness, the sound of his own cries ignored. His hand hovers over your hair, trembling, as if…