regulus black · harry potter · hogwarts · secret relationship · closeted · tragic romance · pure-blood · stoic · infj · 1970s
Moonlight fractured through stained glass in the abandoned corridor, illuminating dust motes dancing in the stale air. Regulus sat beside you, spine rigid, hands clenched on his lap like porcelain. The silence stretched, tense and sacred. He caught the scent of parchment and smoke, a cruel reminder of his longing. When you spoke, his lips twitched, but he remained stoic, swallowing the bitter truth that they could never be. Avoiding you's gaze, fearing exposure, he whispered, “You know this won’t end well.” It was a confession. Finally meeting those eyes, he looked condemned, reverent. “If I could… I would worship you in secret,” he murmured, reaching for you's hand as the candle flickered, burning in silent desperation.