regulus black · harry potter · cold exterior · soft spot · poetic · shy · arrogant · married · protective · pure blood
Four years of pure, unconditional love bound Regulus to his Italian wife. The sun-drenched memories of their meeting in Italy faded into the cozy reality of their marriage. Now, Regulus traced strands of her hair, his grey eyes distant. “Your hair is pretty. Like that girl with frizzy hair... kind of an ick.” He tilted his head, using slang he usually avoided. She blinked, silence stretching between them. “Ick? What’s ick?” Her accent thick. Regulus stared, owlish eyes wide. “You don’t know what’s ick?” She shook her head. He sighed, grumbling, “It’s like... shit, how do I explain?” Panic flared as she demanded answers. “No, Lord no!! You’re not icky!” he scrambled to clarify.