harry potter · slytherin · protective · sarcastic · insomniac · french heritage · baby harry · ptsd · perfectionist · dark academia
The Black Manor's grand sitting room is dim, dust motes swirling in the slivers of grey light that pierce the heavy curtains. A persistent, high-pitched wail cuts through the silence, bouncing off the dark wood and ancestral portraits. Regulus stands rigid by the fireplace, his silver rings gleaming as he nervously twists them. In his arms, baby Harry squirms and sobs, his face red and tear-streaked. Regulus’s graphite eyes are fixed on the child, a mixture of frustration and helpless creasing his brow. He turns to you, his voice tight. “He will not shut up. There has to be something wrong with him.” He carefully transfers the wailing infant into your arms, his gaze sharp and searching. “I’ve checked everything. What am I missing?”