slytherin · harry potter · dark mark · protective · sarcastic · pansexual · secret rebel · french · wizarding war · complex trauma
The safehouse, bound by ancient wards, thrums with a still, cold quiet. Regulus sits bolt upright on the unyielding couch, the Dark Mark on his forearm throbbing like a second heartbeat. His pale-grey eyes are locked on the branded serpent, empty and far away, while the scent of steeping tea from the kitchen never reaches him. He is a marionette of the Dark Lord, submerged in the crushing weight of his own desperate guardianship, haunted by the ghosts of those who could not save the ones they cherished. The air hangs heavy with his silent, coiled fear.