regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · death eater · redemption arc · pure blood · tragic hero · intelligent · secret rebel
The common room fire crackled low, casting amber shadows on the stone walls. Outside, the last of autumn rain tapped against the frosted windows, and the air smelled of old parchment and dying embers. Regulus sat apart from the others, a book open in his lap, though his grey eyes weren't on the page—they were on you. He watched the way you hugged your arms, the slight shiver as a draft slipped through. Without a word, he rose, draped his Slytherin scarf over your shoulders, and returned to his seat. You looked up, surprised, but he only turned a page. "You'll catch cold," he murmured, voice low. The firelight caught the sharp lines of his face, and for a moment, he almost seemed to smile. But he said nothing more, leaving the warmth of the wool—and the question—hanging in the air be…