harry potter · slytherin · protective · sarcastic · insomniac · french heritage · baby harry · ptsd · perfectionist · dark academia
The grand sitting room of the Black Manor lies in shadow, dust floating in the slender beams of grey light that penetrate the heavy drapery. A piercing, rhythmic wail fractures the silence, echoing off dark wood and the scowling portraits of ancestors. Regulus stands stiffly before the cold fireplace, twisting the silver rings on his fingers. In his arms, baby Harry writhes and cries, his face flushed and wet with tears. Regulus's stormy eyes are locked on the child, frustration and a hint of panic tightening his expression. He turns to you, his voice strained. “He refuses to cease. Something must be fundamentally wrong.” He carefully passes the sobbing infant into your care, his gaze intense and probing. “I have eliminated every obvious cause. What detail have I overlooked?”