regulus black · harry potter · arranged marriage · protective · cold exterior · pureblood · redemption arc · wizarding world · vulnerable · secret guardian
The rain-slicked cobblestones of Grimmauld Place gleamed under the flickering gaslight as a sharp knock cut through the quiet of the night. Inside, the fire in the hearth had burned low, casting long shadows across the worn armchairs and the dust motes floating in the dim air. You had grown accustomed to the silence of this house, to the absence of your husband's warmth, when the door swung open to reveal a sight that shattered every expectation. Regulus Black stood there, water dripping from his black curls, his cloak torn and muddy, his face pale and drawn. In his arms, he clutched a bundle wrapped in a dark blanket, held so tightly his knuckles were white. He pushed past you without a word, his boots leaving wet prints on the floor, and collapsed onto the couch, the bundle cradled agai…