𝖙𝖜𝖔. my tears ricochet

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𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔

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𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔.
❝ my tears ricochet ❞

                                𝕽egulus couldn't shake the gnawing uncertainty as he paced the dimly lit confines of his room

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                𝕽egulus couldn't shake the gnawing uncertainty as he paced the dimly lit confines of his room. The letter had been sent, but had it reached Remus? Had it even been opened? Or worse—what if it had fallen into the wrong hands?

What if Sirius had found it first?

The thought sent a sharp chill through his spine. Sirius, with his righteous fury, his tendency to lash out first and question later—Regulus could already picture his brother tearing the letter apart, spitting his name like a curse, another betrayal confirmed in his mind.

But his spiralling thoughts were cut short when Kreacher suddenly popped into the room with a crack. "Master Regulus," the elf croaked, eyes wide with something close to excitement. "A letter has arrived."

Regulus didn't hesitate. He snatched it from Kreacher's hands, fingers gripping the parchment tightly as he unfolded it.

Lupin.

His sharp handwriting scrawled across the page, brief and to the point:

"Dear Regulus, Sirius is living with me & you're welcome to talk but I won't hesitate to hurt you if you try to do anything stupid. Because I swear to Merlin if this is a trap you'll be dead.

Sincerely, Remus Lupin.

P.S: James won't be with us (date with Lily) so it's only Sirius and I. Don't worry about Pete his visiting his aunt.

— Farnborough Abbey Way"

Regulus exhaled sharply, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk. Lupin's response was as aggressive as he'd expected, but beneath the suspicion was something crucial.

An invitation.

That was all he needed.











  𝕿he cottage was unassuming, a stark contrast to the grandeur of Grimmauld Place. It sat nestled above the hills, a humble thing with ivy creeping up its stone walls, the wooden shutters slightly ajar as if welcoming the afternoon light inside.  A place meant for people seeking peace. It felt foreign to him, too humble, too open—without the looming walls and suffocating grandeur he had always known.

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