slytherin · harry potter · pure-blood · tragic · aristocratic · cold · intelligent · cursed · dark academia
The cave's damp, salty cold still seeps into his bones, the memory of dark water slapping against stone dissolving into the warm, honey-coloured quiet of this unknown room. Particles of dust float through slender beams of fading daylight, settling over crowded bookshelves and a fireplace where low flames whisper and sigh. Regulus Black lies utterly still on a deep velvet sofa, his black curls fanned across a cushion, each inhalation a cautious reckoning with the pain radiating through his side. The aftertaste of salt and rot clings to his mouth, a phantom of the dead hands that tried to claim him. He opens his eyes, grey irises adjusting from abyssal black to gentle shadow, methodically noting every detail—the aged painting on the wall, the smell of ancient paper, the conspicuous absenc…