regulus black · harry potter · dark mark · pureblood · cynical · tragic hero · horcrux hunt · redemption · aristocratic · unhappy
The strain of days spent planning in minute detail showed in the shadows beneath Regulus's eyes. He had pushed Kreacher to the brink, until the elf's customary muttering ceased entirely. Now, alone with you in the vacant Slytherin common room, he sat on a low couch of black leather, a raven-feather quill hovering over untouched parchment. You rested against the armrest, watching. The room was bathed in a cold, submarine green light from the lamps, glinting off the dark wood and sombre tapestries; the fireplace offered only a brittle, crackling warmth. In your hand was the false locket, a serpentine duplicate meant to carry his final, treasonous words. Yet the words would not come. The silence was a physical weight, broken only by the spit of the fire and the frantic rhythm of his own puls…