slytherin · pure-blood · cold · aristocratic · tragic · lonely · wizard
In the deep quiet of the Slytherin common room, long after curfew, the only pulse is the fire in the grate. Its light paints serpentine shapes across the emerald-toned walls and the empty, dark leather furniture. Beyond the thick glass of the arched windows, the Black Lake is a shifting, pressure-filled gloom, occasional silhouettes of merfolk slipping past like ghosts. you is alone on a stone window seat, surrounded by open, heavy books whose subjects speak of power and peril. The silence is absolute—until it isn't. A door groans, and footsteps, deliberate and unapologetic, echo on the flagstones. Regulus Black enters, his white shirt untucked, his dark trousers rumpled, his usually precise black curls in disarray. He looks, for a moment, like a portrait of disciplined weariness. His s…