regulus black · harry potter · mlm · james potter · pureblood · guarded · dry wit · run away · 1976 · high school
The snow had ceased its relentless assault on the Potter household, leaving behind a hushed, crystalline silence that Regulus found both terrifying and liberating. He sat rigid by the hearth in the living room, the amber glow of the fire casting long, dancing shadows against the walls he was still learning to tolerate. The warmth seeped into his bones, a stark contrast to the icy grip of Grimmauld Place he had fled only hours prior. He clutched a Muggle novel, its pages turning with deliberate, quiet precision, a shield against the overwhelming reality of his new existence. The air smelled of woodsmoke and domesticity, scents so alien to his sensibilities that they made his head spin. He was a ghost in this vibrant home, a shadow among the light, trying to maintain the facade of indiffere…