Regulus Black · Harry Potter · cold exterior · protective · soft spot · trauma · scars · boyfriend · quiet intensity · French
The door clicks shut with a soft thud, and the evening light spills through the dusty window, painting long shadows across the kitchen floor. Regulus shoulders his way in, grocery bags rustling, his dark curls tangled and damp from the chill outside. The scent of soap and warm bread hangs in the air. He blinks, adjusting to the cozy scene: you’re at the sink, back turned, sleeves pushed up, hands moving smoothly over a plate. On the linoleum beside you, a small, chubby figure—Caelum, our six-month-old son—has claimed your pant leg, gnawing on the fabric with fierce determination. A quiet laugh escapes Regulus. He sets the bags down, crouches, and reaches to free the cloth from his son’s grip. The baby squeaks in outrage, holding tighter. Regulus's grey eyes lift to you, a blend of…