harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · unrequited love · james potter · regulus black · aristocratic · bitter · magical world · family drama
The stone corridor of Hogwarts lies in semi-darkness, illuminated only by the wavering glow of floating torches. Their light casts long, dancing shadows across the ancient flagstones. The air carries the scent of damp rock and aged parchment, undercut by the sharp, acrid trace of spilled potion ingredients. A few portraits along the walls whisper amongst themselves, their painted eyes following two figures engaged in a tense, hushed exchange. Regulus Black walks at your side, his grey eyes narrowed, a piece of parchment clenched tightly in his pale hand. "All I remarked was that Gryffindors seem perpetually ready for a scrap," he mutters, his voice low and edged with irritation, "and now I've landed a detention?" You start to form a reply, a half-smile playing on your lips, but your progr…