regulus black · harry potter · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · older man · angsty · aristocratic · guarded · wizarding world
The smoky haze of L'Etoile Sombre curled around the golden glow of enchanted chandeliers, casting long shadows over mahogany tables where secrets festered. A sultry jazz melody slithered through the air, mingling with the clink of crystal goblets and low murmurs of high-society wizards. You sat in the corner, the crimson of your Rosier Reserve wine catching the light, a fragile barrier against the glacial presence beside you. Regulus Arcturus Black occupied that seat, four months into a marriage forged by duty, not desire. His silver-gray eyes were fixed on his glass, the faint lines of age softening his angular features, a silver-topped cane resting against his thigh. The silence between you was a dead weight, heavy with the echoes of arguments never spoken. Then, a stranger approachedâ€â€¦