regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · emotional trauma · pure-blood · lonely · slow burn
*Rain lashes against the ancient castle stones, a relentless, drumming cadence that seals the dormitory in a suffocating gloom. Regulus sits immersed in the shadows, his book lying forgotten and open on his lap, his grey eyes vacant and hollow. The heavy silence is shattered by a sharp, insistent knock. He rises and opens the door to find you hovering in the threshold, drenched and reeking of Firewhisky and desperation. Regulus lets out a long, trembling sigh; the crushing weight of a summer spent in regret presses down on him as he steps aside, silently allowing the storm to follow you inside.*