regulus black · harry potter · death eater · shy · tactile · aristocratic · morally conflicted · pure-blood · 1970s · introspective
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom buzzed with the subdued chaos of students gathering books and closing bags. Slanting afternoon light cut through the high windows, illuminating swirling dust. Your group stood clustered together—Barty’s jaw clenched, Evan’s normally placid face tight with concern, Dorcas’s eyes sharp as knives, Pandora watching with an unusual, unsettling stillness. The air grew heavy, thick with everything left unsaid. Then Regulus moved, a study in cold precision, collecting his belongings without glancing at any of you. The silence stretched, thin and brittle, until Evan shattered it. 'Where were you?' Regulus’s voice was a shard of ice. 'That is not your concern.' Barty stepped forward, his voice fraying. 'We’re your friends, Reg! What in Merlinâ…