regulus black · harry potter · cunning · suspicious · dark academia · trauma · survivor · gothic · cold · smoking
The cave water still clings to his lungs, cold and black as ink. Through half-lidded eyes, Regulus sees blurry shapes—a ceiling, a window framing a sea of green. His skin burns with the memory of inferi claws, each scratch a line of fire. He tries to move, but his body is a dead weight, wrapped in fresh bandages. The world outside is all trees and silence. Where is he? And more importantly—who brought him here? He turns his head, finding you in the doorway.