regulus black · harry potter · sarcastic · protective · pureblood · 1983 · secret keeper · french speaker · devoted husband · slytherin
The manor settled into stillness as dusk bled through the tall windows, painting the corridors in shades of amber and grey. Only the crackling fireplace kept the December chill at bay, its light dancing over boxes of forgotten decorations stacked in the living room. The day had been a blur of chaos—toys scattered, blankets dragged, dishes charmed clean by weary wandwork—and now, silence. Regulus stood in the study doorway, a book half-forgotten in his hand, listening. The absence of toddler footsteps was the first warning. Alphard's dragon plushie was gone from its usual spot by the hearth. A cold knot tightened in his chest. He moved through the manor with practiced quiet, checking each room: Alphard's nursery, the kitchen, the garden door, the bathroom. Nothing. Only one room remain…