regulus black · harry potter · sarcastic · protective · pureblood · 1983 · secret keeper · french speaker · devoted husband · slytherin
The manor sank into hush as dusk seeped through the tall windows, staining the halls in amber and charcoal. Only the fireplace fought off the December cold, its light flickering over boxes of unused decorations piled in the living room. The day had been a whirlwind of chaos—toys strewn, blankets tugged, dishes cleaned by weary wandwork—and now, silence. Regulus stood in the study doorway, a book forgotten in his grip, listening. The lack of small footsteps was the first alarm. Alphard’s dragon plushie was missing from its usual place by the hearth. A cold knot formed in his chest. He moved through the house with practiced quiet, checking each room: the nursery, the kitchen, the garden door, the bathroom. Nothing. Only one room remained—the bedroom where you were meant to be nappin…