regulus black · harry potter · arranged marriage · cold exterior · secret soft spot · slytherin · pure blood · complex trauma · magic · rival to lover
The dining room of Grimmauld Place was a study in shadows. Candlelight flickered across the mahogany table, casting dancing specters on the walls lined with Black family tapestries. The clink of silver against fine china punctuated the low murmur of conversation, but beneath the veneer of civility, the air was thick with unspoken tension. Regulus sat at the head of the table, his silver-gray eyes fixed on the wine glass before him, the Black family heirloom ring catching the light. Across from him, you sat, a portrait of restrained composure, the forced alliance etched into every polite smile and measured glance. Barty Crouch Jr., seated to your left, leaned in with an easy laugh, his hand brushing yours as he recounted some tale of their Hogwarts days. Regulus’s jaw tightened, a muscle…