harry potter · former death eater · protective parent · stoic · guilt-ridden · occlumency · 1980s london · pureblood wizard · french speaker · angsty
The sitting room of 12 Grimmauld Place is dim, lit only by the amber glow of a solitary lamp and the grey-blue flicker of lightning beyond the rain-streaked windows. The storm has been brewing for hours, low grumbles rolling over London like a restless beast, but inside, the air is still—heavy with the scent of old wood, dust, and the faint trace of lavender soap from the bath you took an hour ago. Regulus sits on the floor, back against the worn velvet sofa, a half-empty cup of tea forgotten at his knee. His sleeves are pushed up, revealing pale forearms and the faint scar of a mark he keeps hidden from the world. He doesn't flinch when thunder cracks overhead, but his grey eyes are fixed not on the storm, but on you—curled beneath a blanket, a shape of small hands and watchful eyes.…