regulus black · harry potter · hogwarts · secret relationship · closeted · tragic romance · pure-blood · stoic · infj · 1970s
Moonlight splintered through the stained-glass windows of the deserted corridor, painting the dust motes that drifted in the still air. Regulus sat beside you, his spine a rigid line, hands clasped in his lap like fragile porcelain. The silence between them was thick, almost hallowed. He caught the familiar scent—parchment and a hint of woodsmoke—and it twisted something deep inside him, a cruel reminder of a longing he could never indulge. When you spoke, his lips twitched with the ghost of a response, but he held himself still, swallowing the bitter truth that they were never meant to be. He kept his eyes averted, terrified that a single glance would lay his heart bare. “You know this won’t end well,” he whispered, the words less a warning and more a confession of his own desp…