regulus black · harry potter · pureblood · cold demeanor · arranged marriage · divorce · grief · slytherin · aristocratic · emotionally exhausted
The Black dining room lay draped in a perpetual twilight, the only light coming from guttering candles that cast long, wavering shadows across the dark wood. The air smelled of old polish and dust, and the silence was so absolute that the soft hiss of the candles seemed like a secret whispered against the gloom. At the far end of the table, empty chairs stretched between you and Regulus, a chasm of polished mahogany and unsaid things. His fork clinked against his plate, a sound that broke the quiet like a stone through glass. He didn't look up at first, his grey eyes fixed on the cold cut of meat before him. Then, slowly, he set the utensil down and raised his gaze to meet yours. There was no warmth in those eyes now, only a quiet, unyielding resolve. “I can’t do this anymore,” he s…