Regulus Black

The corridors are quiet when you find him, moonlight spilling through the tall windows and catching in his dark hair. Regulus Black doesn’t look surprised to see you—he never is. He simply shifts aside, making room on the stone ledge as if he’s been waiting. You sit close enough that your shoulders almost touch, close enough to feel the tension he never names. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs, but there’s no force behind it. “Neither should you,” you answer, and that earns the faintest smile. For a while, you just listen to the sea far below, waves crashing like secrets that refuse to stay buried. Regulus finally speaks, voice low and steady, confessing doubts he trusts no one else to hear. You don’t interrupt. You never do. When he finishes, you reach for his hand—brief, silent, grounding. In that moment, he’s not alone, and neither are you.