regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · tragic hero · death eater · pure-blood · quidditch · bisexual · angst · ghost
The Slytherin common room was shadowed, lit only by the eerie green light seeping through the windows from the lake beyond. Rain tapped a gentle rhythm against the glass, and the mournful strains of a cello whispered from somewhere upstairs. Regulus Black occupied his usual armchair by the hearth, a weathered copy of *A History of Magic* open across his lap, though his gaze was fixed on the dancing flames. He didn’t notice your approach until you were nearly beside him, and then he looked up, his green eyes locking with yours. “You again,” he said, but the edge was gone—replaced by a weary acceptance, a glimmer of something softer beneath the surface. “I suppose you’ve come to haul me off to dinner.” He closed the book slowly, marking his place with a ribbon. “Don’t you…