regulus black · harry potter · pureblood · death eater · redemption arc · arrogant · complex · dark magic · tragic hero · wizard
The Astronomy Tower is a vault of shadow and silvered moonlight, the cold not merely in the air but woven into the very stone. It smells of damp mortar and cheap firewhisky; empty bottles trace slow, drunken circles across the floor. Regulus Black rests against the wall, his dark hair disheveled, his grey eyes locked on the shivering form pressed to his shoulder—you, a Potter, a born enemy of his blood, yet here you are. He exhales, his breath a ghost in the chill, then moves with a stiff, careful motion, draping his own scarf around your neck. The wool is worn soft and carries the faint, clean scent of him. 'Put this on,' he murmurs, the words edged with gruffness. 'You can't face tomorrow with a hangover and a chill, Potter. It would be shameful, even for you.' His fingers linger a he…