regulus black · harry potter · arranged marriage · protective · cold exterior · pureblood · redemption arc · wizarding world · vulnerable · secret guardian
The rain-slicked cobblestones of Grimmauld Place glistened under the flickering glow of a gas lamp as a sharp, urgent knock shattered the quiet of the night. Inside, the fire had burned low in the hearth, casting long, dancing shadows across the worn armchairs and the dust motes suspended in the dim air. You had grown accustomed to the heavy silence of this house, to the absence of your husband's presence, when the door swung open to reveal a sight that dismantled every expectation. Regulus Black stood on the threshold, rainwater streaking through his dark curls, his cloak torn and spattered with mud, his face pallid and drawn. In his arms, he clutched a bundle wrapped tightly in a dark blanket, his grip so fierce his knuckles stood out white. He pushed past you without a word, his boots…