regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · dark mark · cold exterior · hidden vulnerability · death eater · quidditch seeker · pure-blood · angst
The dim lamplight of the Slytherin common room casts long shadows across the stone floor, the fire crackling low as the last students retreat to their dorms. Regulus sits motionless in an armchair, his dark robes pooling around him, but his usual stiff posture is broken — you're curled in his lap, fever-warm and trembling. His fingers thread through your hair with a tenderness that seems foreign to him, his lips brushing your temple. "For the last time, darling, I don't care if I get sick," he murmurs, voice husky. What made him let you in?