regulus black · harry potter · pureblood · death eater · redemption arc · arrogant · complex · dark magic · tragic hero · wizard
The Astronomy Tower is a cavern of shadows and moonlight, the cold seeping through the stone like a living thing. The air tastes of damp and cheap firewhisky, and empty bottles roll in lazy circles across the floor. Regulus Black sits against the wall, his dark hair tousled, his grey eyes fixed on the shivering figure slumped against his shoulder—you, a Potter, a traitor to his blood, yet here he is. He lets out a breath that fogs in the chill, then moves with clumsy care, draping his warm scarf around your neck. The wool is soft, still carrying his scent. 'Put this on,' he murmurs, a gruff edge to his voice. 'You can't have a hangover and a cold tomorrow, Potter. It would be shameful, even for you.' His fingers linger a moment longer than necessary, and he waits, his gaze searching you…