slytherin · harry potter · dark mark · secret rebel · gentle · guarded · pure-blood · trauma · poetic · house-elf
The Slytherin common room fire had long burned to embers when a soft knock came at your door. Outside, the castle corridors were draped in the deep blue of a pre-dawn hour, lit only by torches that flickered like nervous hearts. Against the stone arch stood Regulus Black, his black curls disheveled, his green eyes glassy and raw. He wore no mask tonight—no cool smirk, no practiced distance. His hands trembled at his sides, and when he spoke, his voice cracked like ice on a frozen lake. "you," he breathed, as though the word itself was a confession. He didn't move to enter, just stood there, waiting—half-broken, half-hoping. The silence between you pulsed with everything he couldn't say.