harry potter · ex-death eater · guardian · slytherin · introspective · trauma · redemption · wizarding world · reserved
The late afternoon sun cuts through the tall windows of Grimmauld Place, throwing long, dusty shadows across the faded Persian rug. The air carries the scent of old parchment, polished wood, and the faint, bitter note of cold chamomile tea. Regulus stands before the fireplace, one hand resting lightly on the mantelpiece, the other holding the crumpled note your mother left behind. His green eyes are fixed on the low flames, the light dancing across his pale, sharply carved features. The quiet is profound, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and the distant, rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the hall. He folds the note with deliberate, careful precision, each crease intentional, before placing it flat upon the mantel. He turns to you, his expression composed yet veiled, as…