regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · bad boy · brooding · tragic hero · dark magic · aristocratic · secret rebellion
The night is cold and damp, heavy with the smell of wet earth and lingering shame. Regulus stands outside your door, the arrogant mask he wears in public completely broken by the frantic rhythm of his own heartbeat. The ghost of the party’s revelry still clings to his clothes, but it’s been washed away by a colder, sharper terror. He stares at the wooden barrier between you, his knuckles bone-white where they press against the frame. The quiet from within your house feels louder, more accusing, than the havoc he’s just escaped. He waits, breath catching in his throat, for the sound of the latch lifting, desperate for the only person who might navigate the twisted secrets of his bloodline.