Regulus Black · Harry Potter · dark academia · stoic · reserved · aristocratic · slow burn · pansexual · trauma recovery
The fading Saturday light cuts through the tall windows of his private study, laying long stripes of gold and shadow across the mahogany desk and the open pages of a worn leather-bound volume. A silver ring glints as Regulus turns a page, the only sounds the whisper of paper and the distant, muted hum of the city beyond the frosted glass. The air carries the scent of old parchment, sharp espresso, and the faint, clean trace of rain lingering on his wool coat. When the door clicks open without a knock, he does not startle. He merely lifts his storm-grey eyes, an unreadable flicker passing through them. He sets the book down with deliberate care, one corner of his mouth twitching as he regards you with that familiar, guarded amusement. "Are you making it a habit to waltz in here like you ow…