#regulus drabble

[colouredbyd]

Soleil

Regulus Black x fem!reader

summary:  When Regulus overhears a whispered confession never meant for him—soft words tucked between laughter and loyalty, unraveling the quiet truth beneath your friendship. In the hush that follows, the line between almost and everything begins to blur.

warnings: the most fluffiest fluff to ever fluff in any au, friends in love but in denial, childhood friends to lovers, lowkey grumpy x sunshine trope, reg being insecure, love confessions, self doubt, swearing. i love this sm.

word count: 7.3k ( im sorry ☹️)

authors note: reggie is quite literally the loml so here u go guys 🌷 

masterlist

“I just don’t get it. You two are close, sure, but how can someone like you stand someone so… frostbitten?”

Regulus Black had never been fond of listening in.

Not because he held some high regard for personal boundaries—though he might feign such principles if questioned—but because idle whispers had always struck him as painfully dull. His ears had never itched for gossip, nor had curiosity ever coaxed him into shadowed corners. If people had something to say, they’d say it. And if they didn’t, he preferred the quiet.

In truth, silence had always been kinder to him than most people ever were.

It was a habit he’d mastered long before Hogwarts—back when the walls of Grimmauld Place echoed with slurred legacies and scornful lectures. In those days, slipping away unnoticed had been a form of survival. At school, it was simply routine.

But tonight… something felt different.

Maybe it was the fact that his name had slipped past someone else’s lips.

Maybe it was the company—James Potter, Marlene McKinnon, and you—tucked just around the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room.

Or maybe it was something subtler, something aching and ancient, when Marlene’s voice laced his name with ice.

He hadn’t meant to linger. He’d only returned to fetch the worn book he’d abandoned on the windowsill that morning. He hadn’t expected anyone to be there—let alone you, laughter softening your voice like candlelight.

He could’ve kept walking. He should have.

But then—

“I think there’s kindness in him,” James said, uncertain. His voice faltered like a lantern in fog.

“I mean… we’ve barely spoken, really.” He rubbed the back of his neck—nervous, boyish. Always more heart than caution.

“Maybe he’s just not great with people?”

You hummed softly, nodding in agreement, though your gaze had grown distant, pulled by the threads of memory. You understood him far better than the others did—better, perhaps, than anyone else dared to try. That’s why Marlene and Dorcas had turned to you, curious about the boy who walked the castle halls like a ghost no one could quite touch.

You had known Regulus Black long before you shared the same classes at Hogwarts. Growing up among pureblood circles had made your paths cross more than once, though back then, he barely acknowledged your presence. It wasn’t until your fifth year that a quiet camaraderie started to bloom—quiet, not because it was secret, but because it had no need for loud declarations. A glance. A shared silence. A wordless understanding. All of it wove together like a private constellation only you two could see.

You smiled faintly at the memory, a soft huff of laughter escaping you. It was absurd, really, to think you’d somehow become the unofficial Regulus Black Expert of Gryffindor Tower. The idea would have made your younger self laugh out loud.

Because back then—when you’d first been introduced to him by a smug Sirius Black with a wicked grin and a mischievous, “Reggie, this one won’t bite unless you ask”—you never would have imagined this strange little bond forming.

“Regulus has always been… closed off,” you murmured at last, agreeing with Marlene’s earlier observation, though your tone drifted somewhere far away. Your words were less a reply and more a wandering thought, drifting like parchment on the wind.

It hadn’t been easy, not at first. Regulus had no interest in friendship—especially not the kind that came packaged with Sirius’s teasing introductions. He had been all cold stares and clipped replies, a boy carved from silence and family pressure. And you? You had simply been the unfortunate soul swept into the current of Black family drama, doomed to be one more casualty in Go-to-hell, Sirius’s grand matchmaking schemes.

Time after time, you found yourself at 12 Grimmauld Place under the excuse of “study sessions” or “family dinners” orchestrated by Sirius’s sheer willpower. And time after time, Regulus kept his distance, each glance sharpened like a dagger, each word a carefully measured offering. He didn’t need friends. He didn’t want them. And you? You were just a name on a list he hadn’t asked for.

And truthfully, you never quite knew when it shifted—or why. When, between wary glances and measured silences, something real began to stir between you. You chewed gently at your bottom lip as the thought unfurled, trying to follow the winding trail back to the precise moment when your distant acquaintance melted into something gentler, more sincere. Something you could, without hesitation, call a friendship now.

“Do you think he ever lets anyone in?” Marlene asked, a touch of disbelief in her voice—not meant to wound, only to confess her own discomfort. She never knew how to fill the silences Regulus left behind, not the way Dorcas or you somehow managed to. “It just doesn’t add up to me.”

Unseen just around the corner, Regulus leaned his weight against the stone wall, the cold of it pressing into his back as he stood completely still. This was the part where he should have left. Disengaged. Forgotten he’d heard anything at all. He should have reminded himself that he didn’t care what people thought—because he didn’t. Or at least, he hadn’t.

But something invisible tethered him to that moment. Curiosity, perhaps. Or the soft echo of his own name on your lips.

“I get that you’re close,” Marlene went on, “but how does someone like you end up friends with someone so…”

He didn’t want to hear the rest of the sentence. And yet, he couldn’t stop listening.

Her voice faltered for a second, and Regulus felt it like a fist around his ribs. He could guess what came next.

“So… cold?”

The word landed like frost beneath his skin.

Cold?

His mind latched onto it, dissecting it like a puzzle he didn’t ask to solve. Is that truly how they saw him? Was that what he looked like through other people’s eyes? He supposed he wasn’t the easiest person to read. He wasn’t known for kindness or warmth—but cold? The word clung to the back of his throat, sharp and stinging.

He should’ve walked away. Brushed it off like he had with everything else. He’d built his world out of walls for a reason. He didn’t let himself care. He never had.

So why, then, did his chest feel like it had been split open?

He was turning to leave, to forget the book he came for and the crack this moment left behind—

Until he heard your voice.

“Cold?” you echoed, and Regulus froze mid-step. There was something in your voice—an edge he couldn’t quite name. Anger? Disbelief? Something that made his heart stutter painfully in his chest.

He found himself leaning into the shadows again, listening, caught in your words like a boy drowning in a storm.

“Regulus Black is anything but cold,” you said, your voice like silk woven through fire. A laugh escaped you next, quiet and bitter. “He’s the warmest person I’ve ever known.”

His breath caught. He almost laughed—almost—but stopped himself. He was supposed to be hidden, after all.

Still, that one sentence echoed louder than the rest.

“Truly?” Marlene blinked at you, surprise tugging at her brows like she hadn’t expected the warmth in your voice.

You nodded with the kind of certainty that didn’t waver.

“Absolutely,” you said, your voice soft but steady, like morning light through a window. “There’s no one quite like him. He’s… kind. Deeply so. He just doesn’t wear it on his sleeve like most do. You have to look closer to see it.”

Around the corner, hidden behind the curve of ancient stone, Regulus stood still as the marble beneath his feet. Your voice was like a tether, pulling him back every time he considered walking away.

“Regulus doesn’t move like everyone else,” you continued gently, a smile curling at the corners of your lips. “He’s quiet, sure. Always has been. But cold?” You let out the softest laugh, the kind that sounded like wind through lavender fields. “No… not cold. Never that. He’s warm in ways most people don’t know how to be.”

Warm? Regulus nearly scoffed, but the heat that rushed to his face betrayed him. If only you knew the darkness he buried his heart beneath. If only you saw the shadows he called home. And still—still—your voice made him believe, just for a second, that maybe you did see. And maybe… you didn’t mind.

“He wouldn’t believe me if I told him,” you said with a small laugh, like you could hear his thoughts. “But it’s true. He cares in ways that matter—in quiet gestures and steady presence, in showing up without ever announcing that he’s there.”

“Ohhh…” Dorcas and Marlene echoed, their tones laced with newfound understanding.

You giggled then, all bright and unbothered, and it struck Regulus like starlight—sudden and impossible to ignore.

“He grows on you,” you promised, voice turning soft again. “Little by little. And when he does… you realize just how lucky you are to be close to someone like him.”

Regulus ducked his head, hiding the sudden flush crawling up his neck, thankful there were no mirrors nearby to betray him. He’d never been lucky a day in his life—but if you thought being near him was some kind of gift, then maybe, just maybe…

“Merlin’s beard, (Y/N), that was kind of adorable,” Dorcas teased. “How long have you known him, then? You two sound like old souls.”

“A while,” you said, tilting your head as you thought it over. “Slughorn once invited us to the same dinner—years ago. Said we were both too serious for our own good. I don’t think either of us said more than three words that night,” you laughed softly. “But… over time, I think we just started understanding each other. Quietly. Comfortably. And now… he’s someone I look up to. A lot.”

A good person? Regulus nearly rolled his eyes. You always saw the best in him—even the parts he tried hardest to bury.

“He’s always helping me,” you added, a smile blooming on your lips. “Especially when I’m struggling with Dueling, or studying late into the night. He says he does it because I ask too many questions—but I know he stays because he wants me to do well.”

Well. He couldn’t exactly argue with that one.

“And he’s a bit of a secret gentleman,” you said, your voice dipping low, like a delicate confession passed between old stone walls. A soft smile ghosted your lips. “Even when we weren’t close, he’d carry my books without asking, hold open the doors with barely a glance, pull out my chair in the Great Hall like it was second nature…”

Your words trailed off as the memories rose like stardust behind your eyes—small, quiet gestures that had once seemed incidental, but now shimmered with meaning.

Just around the corner, half-shrouded by flickering torchlight, Regulus leaned back against the cold stone, eyes half-lidded, breath caught. He’d forgotten about some of those moments—at least on the surface—but hearing them from your lips made them pulse to life again. You noticed. Merlin, you noticed.

He’d never thought of himself as kind. His mother had taught him manners, not softness. His brother had taught him rebellion, not care. But you… You brought something different out of him. With you, gentleness had become instinct.

And now, hearing you speak of it with such warmth, he found himself wondering if you saw something in him he hadn’t dared to believe existed.

Your smile deepened. “There was one time, years ago…” You laughed under your breath, as if it were still a secret.

“We’d snuck into the kitchens when the elves weren’t looking—he nabbed a chocolate biscuit from the tin. Broke it in half.” You looked toward Marlene and Dorcas, your voice softening like candlelight.

“And he gave me the bigger piece.”

The girls exchanged a glance, both catching the distant look in your eyes—the way your gaze flickered not to the past, but to a version of it you carried close, cherished. You hadn’t even been friends yet. Just two children on opposite sides of a too-large world, momentarily brought together in the dim glow of the kitchen hearth.

You’d spent the rest of that evening curled beside Tilly Toke’s Magical Mishaps, Regulus sat across the table, not saying much. But the half-cookie had meant something, hadn’t it?

The memory wrapped around you like a charm.

And somewhere behind the wall, Regulus closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his thumb into his palm—grounding himself. Because yes. He remembered it exactly that way.

“Aww!” Marlene let out a dramatic gasp, pressing her hands to her heart as if the memory had physically struck her. “He must’ve had a tiny little crush on you, darling,” she teased, her voice lilting like a melody as she batted her lashes.

You laughed under your breath, but Regulus, hidden just around the stone corner of the corridor, felt like his heart had been flung into a freezing lake.

A crush?

Was that how he came across?

His pulse thundered in his ears as panic curled tight in his chest. Surely not. All the little things he’d done—carrying your books when you complained about the weight, offering you his scarf on cold mornings, brewing tea when you stayed up too late studying—all of that was just… friendship. Wasn’t it? Politeness. Chivalry, even. Raised by Walburga or not, he did have some decency.

He tried to believe that.

But the longer he stood there, the more tangled his thoughts became.

None of it was just about kindness. Not really.

You were the only one who made the castle feel less like a cage and more like a dream. The way you laughed when he muttered sarcastic remarks under his breath. The way you hummed when concentrating. The warmth you gave off without even trying.

You were sunlight—unapologetic and golden. And him? He was the boy who lived in the shadows of dark family tapestries and colder expectations.

He didn’t mean to care for you the way he did.

But he thought of you constantly. In between potions ingredients, in the flutter of owl wings across the morning sky, in every flower you ever paused to admire. Even the Black family crest seemed to dim in your presence. His own reflection was easier to face when he imagined you smiling at him.

Gods, he was utterly doomed.

fuck. 

Regulus pressed the heel of his hand to his temple, trying to steady himself—anchor his mind back to the cold stone floor beneath his shoes and not the warmth blooming beneath his ribs. None of that meant anything, did it? All those quiet favors, the lingering glances, the moments where his hand brushed yours without needing to—none of it had to suggest something deeper.

He could care for you platonically. Couldn’t he?

He nearly scoffed at himself.

How utterly cliché. The proud, brooding boy spiraling the second he felt something tender for the girl who glowed like she’d been carved from starlight. Maybe he was just being ridiculous. Maybe you really were just friends. Friends could look after each other. Friends could think the other was breathtaking and luminous and—

Merlin help him.

Because if you were to lean in one day, maybe on the edge of a courtyard or under a soft-spoken sky, and confess you wanted something more—he wouldn’t push you away, would he?

His chest tightened. No. He wouldn’t. And that answer, so simple, nearly unravelled him. His thoughts tangled like spellwork gone wrong, and for a moment he swore the castle spun slightly beneath his feet.

“I don’t know about that…” your voice broke through the air, softer than parchment under fingertips.

And Regulus felt it—something unfamiliar and ferocious rising in his chest. Like swallowing honey and fire at the same time. It bubbled with sweetness, with something terrifyingly hopeful. His fingertips tingled, his lips twitched with the start of a smile he didn’t know he could make. He wasn’t sure whether to dread it or chase it.

“Well, you should ask him out!” Marlene said cheerfully, breaking the moment like glass on stone.

“Wh-what?” you stammered, blinking rapidly.

“I’m serious!” she grinned, nudging Dorcas playfully. “He’d say yes. You’re definitely his favorite, and have you seen the way he stares at you?”

I do? Regulus froze where he stood, blood rushing in his ears.

“He does?” your voice slipped out, barely more than a breath, tinged with disbelief and the faintest hope.

Regulus could feel it now—magic surging beneath his skin like it wanted to rise just for you.

Were you surprised? Mortified? Regulus couldn’t tell. From his shadowed post behind the half-open door, he was practically vibrating with the urge to peek out, to catch even a flicker of your expression.

If he could just see your face, he’d know exactly how you were processing all of this—whether you were laughing him off or secretly hoping it might be true.

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen him looking at you loads of times,” James said casually, like he was stating the weather.

“Same,” chimed in Marlene, lounging across the common room couch. “Honestly, I thought you two were already together when I first transferred.”

He did?

“You did?” your voice fluttered out, laced with disbelief—and something else Regulus couldn’t name, something soft and glowing.

“Yeah,” James shrugged like it was obvious. “He always sits close to you. And when he speaks—which isn’t often—it’s usually just to you. I thought it was some kind of intense, brooding flirting.”

No, you imbecile, I just don’t want anyone overhearing—

Regulus dragged a palm down his face, lips twitching with frustration. This was disastrous. He rolled his eyes and tugged slightly at the skin under them, as if it might yank him back into reality. But no—there it was, pulsing like an inconvenient truth just behind his ribs.

Of course he fancied you. Merlin, how hadn’t he seen it?

Or maybe… maybe it had always been there. Dormant. Waiting. Quietly thriving in shared glances, in the way you beamed when he walked into the room, in how his mornings never felt quite right until he heard your laugh.

That laugh drifted out now, pulling him violently from his spiraling thoughts. Light and bright, it danced in the air like the flicker of fairy lights during winter.

“No, no—you’ve got it all wrong,” you said, laughing again as you tried to dismiss the idea, but there was something dangerous in your tone. Something syrupy sweet and hesitant, like you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted it to be wrong. “We’ve known each other forever. If something was going to happen, it probably would’ve by now.”

The pause that followed was heavy. Not uncomfortable—but thick. Charged. Like the castle itself was holding its breath.

Regulus swallowed hard. His heartbeat roared in his ears like crashing waves, deafening and all-consuming. He knew he should walk away, that eavesdropping this long was borderline shameful.

But he couldn’t. 

“You say that like you want something to happen,” Marlene teased, her voice laced with playful suspicion. “Are you the one with the crush?”

Regulus felt the breath knock out of him. Every passing second that she didn’t answer made his head spin, made the walls feel closer. If he didn’t move soon, he was going to collapse right here in this hidden corridor, fully exposed in the most humiliating way possible.

“I…” your voice broke through the silence, soft and unsteady.

Regulus clenched his jaw, fighting every instinct not to lean just a little farther around the corner. If he could just see you—if he could catch the twitch of your fingers or the tilt of your lips—he might finally have his answer.

If you were fidgeting, surely it meant you did like him.

If you stood still, frozen in disbelief, then the idea of the two of you must’ve been laughable to you. An impossibility.

“I haven’t thought about it,” you murmured at last, so quietly he barely caught it.

There was a shuffle of feet. Marlene let out a thoughtful hmm, unreadable in tone, and James called out his goodbyes as he bounded off toward the courtyard to meet Sirius and Peter.

Marlene followed not long after, muttering something about borrowing Lily’s notes or charming Professor Slughorn into letting her redo a potion.

You gave a breathy laugh and waved them off with a smile in your voice. And then, once their footsteps faded into silence, you exhaled.

It trembled at the edges.

“Merlin,” you whispered to yourself, pressing a hand to your chest as you dropped onto the worn couch in front of the common room fire. “That was way too close.”

Regulus, hidden in the shadows just beyond the entrance, let his back fall against the cold stone wall.

He’d never known it was possible to be both relieved and utterly destroyed in the same moment.

Your heart was still rattling in your chest, refusing to slow after the teasing from James and Marlene. You needed to get away—away from their knowing eyes, their smug grins, their pointed little looks that made you feel like your thoughts were written across your forehead. You were certain they knew. Certain they’d seen through every flimsy deflection and quiet denial you’d offered.

Just as you were about to flop onto the couch and sink into a well-earned nap by the fire, something caught your eye: a thick hardcover left resting on the arm of the chair beside you. A neat, velvet-green ribbon was caught between the pages, and all the sections before it were practically bursting with parchment scraps and scribbled notes.

You recognized it instantly. If you didn’t already know Regulus had been buried in that book all week, the sheer intensity of the annotations would’ve given it away. No one else read like that. Not in your year, at least.

A smile tugged at your lips as you picked it up. He must’ve left it behind in a hurry. Knowing him, he’d want it back the moment he realized it was gone. You figured he had the afternoon free, so it wouldn’t take long to find him. Besides, your nap could wait.

Cracking it open to the first page marked by a slim pink tab, you let your eyes flit across the topmost note stuck inside—only to immediately become absorbed, not in the book itself, but in the way his handwriting crawled into the margins like vines. You didn’t even notice him until you were practically on top of him.

“Oh—sorry!” you gasped, stepping back from the broad figure you’d nearly barreled into.

When your gaze lifted and locked onto familiar grey eyes, your surprise dissolved into a gentle smile.

“Reg! I was just coming to find you,” you added, brightening with a soft laugh. You held up the book like a prize. “This is yours, right?”

He nodded, slowly, almost as if startled into silence. His hand brushed against yours as he took the book, and for a second he couldn’t seem to find his voice.

“…Thanks, soleil,” he managed finally, quieter than he intended.

“No problem,” you replied easily. “It was in my nap spot,” you added with a sheepish little shrug.

That made Regulus laugh, low and amused. The sound startled even him, but the grin it brought to his face was unstoppable. You tilted your head slightly at the sudden warmth in his expression, your fingers twisting together, the flutter in your chest growing louder by the second.

“Hey, I was wondering…” you began, brows knitting slightly as your courage wrestled with uncertainty.

Regulus, ever so composed, tucked the book under his arm and gave you his full attention.

“Yes, amour?” he asked, voice soft and clear, like he was ready to listen to anything—anything at all—from you.

He watched your fingers begin to fidget again—an old habit of yours—and his heart thudded heavily in his chest. That small, familiar gesture pulled at something deep inside him, something tender and terrifying all at once. You were fidgeting. You were nervous.

“Uh, ah—it’s silly—” you began, your voice hitching as you almost backed out of it. But Regulus shook his head quickly, the usual cool in his features melting into a rare softness. He didn’t want you to stop. Not now. Not when it felt like your words might change something between you.

“I’m sure it’s not,” he said, more firmly than he expected. You glanced up at him in surprise, caught off guard by the seriousness in his voice. “What is it?” he asked again, quieter this time. Earnest.

You blushed.

Actually blushed.

And Regulus felt something in him collapse at the sight. How had he not realized sooner? The way he cared about you—it was more than careful friendship. More than routine familiarity. It was this. That look. That moment. This feeling swelling in his chest like an uncontrollable storm.

“Do you remember when we were little, and my mum always made us have those awkward little tea visits?” you asked, laughing under your breath. The sound was light but edged with nerves. “She’d dress you up like a little heir to the empire.”

Regulus chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the memory. “How could I forget, soleil? You were the only thing making them bearable.”

You opened your mouth as if to explain yourself further, then stopped short. Your gaze dropped to your hands again, which were still twisting in your lap, and your smile grew quiet.

“I don’t know, I guess I…” you stumbled, your words catching on emotion you hadn’t quite figured out yet. Merlin, you hated how your voice trembled. How silly it made you feel. “Do you remember when we became friends?”

You rushed the question out, afraid of losing the courage altogether.

Regulus nodded, his expression unreadable—but not cold. There was something still behind his eyes. Watching you closely. Listening like he always did, but with his heart too, now.

“I do,” he said gently. “You spilled ink on my essay, and I didn’t hex you for it.”

You laughed at that, your eyes glinting. “That was the moment, huh?”

“I think it always had been,” he replied, voice almost too quiet to catch.

“I do,” he replied without hesitation.

“Like, actual friends,” you clarified, raising a brow, not convinced he’d thought that through. “Not just two kids being dropped off at some posh tea party and expected to get along. I mean—real friends.”

Regulus nodded again, a little smile tugging at his lips.

“I do,” he repeated, softer this time, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You don’t?”

You pressed your lips together thoughtfully, chewing at the corner of one as you shook your head slowly. Your brow furrowed as you tried to remember, and Regulus gave a low chuckle at the sight, eyes glinting with fondness.

“Well?” you asked, voice tinged with impatience. “What changed?”

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” he said with mock hurt, tilting his head and placing a dramatic hand on his chest. “That wounds me amour, you know.”

“I didn’t think you had feelings, Black,” you shot back playfully, a teasing lilt to your voice. “But come on, tell me.”

You looked at him expectantly, eyes wide and gleaming with curiosity. Regulus found himself caught in your gaze, helpless to look away.

You always did that—held his attention like no one else ever had. But this time, there was something different. Something unspoken between the words, resting in the stillness of the air between you.

He swallowed thickly. If you asked anything of him like this, he would give it without pause. It hit him like a charm straight to the chest. That soft glint in your eyes—he wondered if he’d always missed it, or if it had only just begun to appear.

“It was right before we came to Hogwarts,” he said finally, voice quieter now, like he was unearthing something sacred. “The weekend before the train. Do you remember?”

You nodded, the memory vague but there. You’d spent a late summer afternoon at Grimmauld Place while your parents caught up with his.

You vaguely recalled teasing him for organizing his trunk with meticulous precision and muttering something about the Weird Sisters under his breath.

“I remember you sorting your books by spine colour like some cursed Ravenclaw,” you teased, grinning.

Regulus huffed a laugh. “You were sitting on the floor in my room,” he continued, tone suddenly gentler. “You brought every sweet from Honeydukes you could carry and made me try all the ones I said I hated.”

Your grin softened into a warm smile.

“And then you told me,” he said, eyes flicking to yours, “that if Hogwarts was awful, and I hated every second of it, at least I’d have someone to sit with on the train ride back.”

The memory bloomed in your chest like an old Polaroid, blurry around the edges but warm all the same.

“You meant it,” he added. “And I think… that’s when I knew.”

“When we became friends?” you asked.

He looked at you for a long moment, then gave a slight nod, lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes—not out of sadness, but because there was more to it than he could say.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s when everything changed.”

“Professor let us move in a night early,” Regulus recalled, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Probably so the castle staff could have one last evening of peace before the school year started.”

You laughed under your breath at the realization, nodding. “At the time it felt like freedom. Our own space for the first time.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, eyes soft with the memory. “Feels strange thinking back now. It was just you and me in this massive castle… for a while at least.”

“I almost forgot that,” you admitted, the corners of your mouth curling up as you thought of it. The quiet corridors. The chill of stone floors under your socks. The thrill of choosing your own bedtime, your own space. “It feels like it’s always been this way.”

“But you don’t remember the first night?” he asked, tilting his head.

You squinted, trying to trace the memory like it was hidden in fog. There were flashes—wandering the halls, fiddling with enchanted portraits, a failed attempt at brewing hot cocoa with a half-working kettle you’d found in one of the old kitchens…

“You woke me up,” Regulus said, chuckling softly.

Your eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh—Merlin. Right. I couldn’t sleep and—”

“You were bored,” he supplied, shaking his head fondly. “You dragged me out of bed and made me sit with you in the common room. And then you made me watch that ridiculous enchanted Muggle film projection your dad enchanted for you.”

You snorted. “The Princess Bride is a classic, I don’t care what you say Reggie.”

“It’s too long,” he shot back without missing a beat. “And you didn’t even stay awake. I sat there like an idiot while you snored on my shoulder.”

You covered your face with your hands, laughing with secondhand embarrassment. “Okay, okay—”

“You talked through half of it,” he went on, grinning. “You said you were scared.”

The laughter softened on your lips, surprise flickering in your gaze.

“I did?” you asked, quieter now.

Regulus nodded, watching you intently.

“You said you didn’t know what Hogwarts would be like,” he continued, voice gentler. “You were afraid you’d mess everything up. But then you said as long as I was around, maybe it’d be alright.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The memory settled over you like a forgotten charm being reawakened.

“And it was,” he added softly. “Alright, I mean.”

Your eyes met his again, and there was something about the way he looked at you then—like you were the only thing anchoring him to this moment. Like he’d never forgotten that night for a reason.

“You said you were scared of failing,” Regulus’ voice dipped low again, quieter than before—almost reverent. “That… you were afraid of never becoming powerful enough to protect the people you cared about.”

Despite the memory being so old, embarrassment flickered through you now like a lit match to dry parchment. You couldn’t believe this was the moment he’d held onto all this time. Of all things, this one?

“I almost wish I hadn’t asked,” you muttered, cheeks burning, “I can’t believe I said that to you.”

But Regulus didn’t tease. In fact, his smile turned almost fond.

“Then you told me you thought I was strong,” he continued, and for the first time, there was the faintest trace of pink brushing the tops of his cheeks. “You asked if I’d help you… get strong too. Like me.”

Your eyes widened slightly. The image of little you, curled in a blanket in the Slytherin common room, whispering fears into the dim glow of floating candles, was something hazy and far away.

But Regulus? He remembered it like it had just happened.

“And then,” he added with a snort, “you passed out mid-sentence, head on my shoulder. I was stuck watching the rest of that bloody Muggle film just so you wouldn’t wake up and yell at me for skipping to the end.”

“You watched the rest of the movie?” you asked, your voice soft with wonder.

He laughed. “Every last minute.”

You blinked, stunned. “I can’t believe I don’t remember any of that.”

“You were exhausted,” Regulus shrugged like it didn’t matter, even though it clearly had. “And it was a long time ago. I never expected you to remember it… I just never forgot.”

You chewed on your lip, falling quiet as warmth coiled in your chest. That kind of memory… someone keeping it for you when you hadn’t even known to treasure it—it meant more than you could say.

But then he stepped forward.

Just a single pace, barely anything. And yet your whole body felt it—the sudden closeness, the silence that wrapped around you both like a breath held too long.

“And by the way…” he murmured, pulling your gaze up to his with ease. “I do kind of stare at you, a lot.”

Your face went red so fast you thought your ears might start steaming.

“You—you heard that?” you squeaked, mortified.

“And then some,” Regulus replied smoothly, and despite the flush still tinting his cheekbones, he was smiling. Really smiling

For once, he didn’t feel like hiding.

“Did you mean all of that, soleil?” he asked.

And this time, the air between you was electric.

Your mouth opened once. Closed. Opened again.

The conversation from earlier came crashing down on you all at once, each word echoing in your head with horrifying clarity. He’d heard it. All of it. Your rambling. Your clumsy affection disguised as hypothetical questions. And—Merlin—had he heard that last part?

“I mean, y—yeah. Yeah,” you stammered, nodding just a little too fast. “Of course I did.”

But your voice had gone breathless, barely even sound.

Regulus tilted his head slightly, gaze fixed so firmly on you you thought he might see through you completely.

“Even that last part?” he asked, stepping forward again. The hem of his robes brushed yours now, but you didn’t move back. You couldn’t.

“Last part?” you echoed stupidly, throat dry.

“Yeah,” he nodded, and this time his hand lifted—not hesitantly, but reverently—as though you might vanish if he rushed the moment. His thumb ghosted beneath your jaw, the faintest brush of contact that left you aching for more.

“You know,” he murmured, voice deep and velvet-smooth, “that bit where you said you hadn’t really thought about me like that.”

You remembered. Of course you did. It was the one part of the conversation that had clanged in your mind like a bell since it left your lips.

“You meant that too?”

You swallowed hard. His fingers were still at your chin, gently anchoring you in place, and the look in his eyes—

You couldn’t look away if you tried.

“No,” you breathed, and it was so soft it nearly disappeared into the silence between you. But Regulus heard it. He saw it form on your lips, caught the tremble behind it.

“No, I didn’t mean that.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—small, private, and impossibly warm. You watched it unfold, saw the way his eyes softened as he noticed your hands fidgeting again.

He knew.

You felt it too.

“And what did you mean to say?” he asked, and there was a raw sort of need in the question, like it had lived in him for ages, waiting to be unburdened.

Like if you said the words now, it might change everything.

Your gaze lingered on his lips.

You hadn’t meant to stare, but he was close now—closer than you ever imagined he’d dare to be. And yet he was still waiting. Still asking for the truth with a calm so controlled it nearly masked the ache in his eyes.

He wanted to hear it. And you wanted to say it. But wanting and doing were not the same.

“I meant…” you began, eyes flicking up to meet his when you realized how long you’d been caught staring. “I meant I have thought about… something more…”

The words came out in pieces, light and thin like cobwebs, hardly brave or poetic. Nothing like the declarations you’d imagined in your head a hundred times. But it was real. And yours. And when you cleared your throat and added, “But they didn’t need to know that,” with a sheepish little laugh, something cracked wide open in his chest.

“No, I suppose not,” Regulus murmured, and the faintest smile tugged at his lips—one of those rare, real ones that reached his eyes and made them glow softer than moonlight.

You didn’t feel so nervous anymore. Not around him.

“So…” you tilted your head, teasing gently. “Spying on your friends these days, is that your new hobby, Black?” Your voice was quiet, but there was laughter behind it, light and fluttering. “Bit off-brand for you, Regulus.”

He chuckled lowly, and your heart stumbled at the sound—low, smooth, and entirely unguarded.

“When else was I going to hear you say all those nice things about me?” he replied, his voice rich with warmth and something sweeter. His thumb still rested beneath your chin, brushing idly along your skin like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it.

Regulus Black had never been the touchy type. He was all self-restraint and deliberate space. But now? His touch was gentle, steady, and intentional. Like he had finally decided not to pull away anymore.

“I quite liked the part where you said I was a gentleman,” he added, the corners of his mouth quirking with quiet amusement.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wildly.

And then he leaned in. Not rushed, not hesitant—just certain. Your eyes widened, nearly burning from how long you kept them fixed on his. Everything about him in this moment—his steady breath, the warmth of his hand, the tender curve of his mouth—made the world shrink until it was just him and you in this quiet corridor that smelled faintly of old parchment and lavender.

“But for the record,” he whispered, and you swore you could feel every word land against your lips, “I’m lucky to have you, too.”

Your chest swelled, and your smile came freely now, radiant and soft as your fingers curled slightly in the fabric of his sleeve.

Yes. Just as you thought.

He was the warmest person you knew.

Regulus Black was the warmest person in this wide universe.

"And," he continued, his voice a shade softer, more reverent now, "you are my favorite."

You let out a breath of laughter, quiet and a little stunned, before you rolled your eyes at him. There was no real exasperation behind it. Only a fondness so deep it practically glowed from you.

"I know," you murmured, narrowing your eyes with playful suspicion. The smile you wore, though, that was sincere. Sweet and sincere and so unguarded it made Regulus feel like you had just handed him your entire heart without even realizing it.

"Must be a side effect of your staring problem."

He tilted his head slightly, guiding your chin up with the faintest tug of his thumb. His nose brushed yours.

You could feel the warmth of his breath as it mingled with yours, and just as you leaned into it, just as the world started to tilt, he paused. Of course he did. Always the gentleman, no matter how undone he felt inside.

"May I?" he murmured. His lashes dipped as his gaze flicked between your eyes and your lips, every syllable spoken like a secret. "Kiss you?"

You almost laughed from how impossibly soft he could be. You wanted to throw caution to the wind, wrap your fingers in the collar of his uniform and pull him in like you were in the climax of a dramatic novel. But your voice was trapped in your throat, and your limbs would not obey you.

So you closed your eyes.

And nodded.

Just barely.

It was enough.

His lips found yours with a grace that felt practiced, like he had been dreaming of this for far too long. And he kissed you like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers. Gentle, tentative, almost reverent.

Your body softened completely. Every piece of tension unraveled in his arms. Your hands, which had been stiff by your sides, slowly lifted and curled gently over his shoulders.

His lips deepened against yours in return, not forcefully, just sure, like he had found something precious and had finally been allowed to hold it.

His free hand, no longer gripping the book he always carried like armor, settled against your cheek. His fingers trembled ever so slightly before the tip of his index ghosted along the shell of your ear, down the line of your jaw, and back up again. Slow. Slow. Slow. Like he wanted to memorize you.

You felt like you might float away. Your heart swelled so high in your chest you were almost afraid of what would happen if you stopped.

And when you did part, it was not with loss, but with a quiet sort of awe.

Your lips still tingled. Your fingers still trembled slightly on his shoulders. Yet all you could do was smile. A real one. Warm and quiet and deeply content. And Regulus? He wore the same smile. Mirrored and soft. As if kissing you had rewired something inside him.

You did not even open your eyes for a moment, basking in it. And that made him chuckle.

"Next time," you murmured, dazed and dreamy, "I’ll let them know you are a good kisser too."

He smiled—genuinely, boyishly, almost bashfully—and leaned in to press a featherlight kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Don’t," he whispered. "I like that being just yours."

"Will you?" he murmured with a tease laced beneath the softness of his voice.

You nodded, leaning your cheek into his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his palm made you glow, even as a blush crept up your cheeks and your nose crinkled with hesitation.

"Well, maybe not right away," you mumbled, your tone sheepish now.

Regulus laughed, actually laughed. And it was the kind that made you feel like you had just discovered a hidden treasure.

His smile was wide, unguarded, and it lit up every inch of his face. The pink hue blooming across his cheeks was proof enough that whatever mask he usually wore had fallen completely away for you.

"Maybe not right away," he echoed. His voice dipped low again. Softer now and more tender.

His thumb stroked along the curve of your cheekbone, so carefully, like you were something fragile and precious that only he got to hold.

The sound of his voice, husky and warm against your lips, was enough to pull you under.

Your eyes fluttered closed instinctively. And when his lips brushed over yours once again, it was with all the careful affection of a boy who had never believed himself worthy of softness until now.

You kissed him back just as sweetly. Your fingers traced along the sharp edge of his jaw, hesitating for only a second before settling there. You wanted to pull him closer, wanted to let passion take over, but you did not, not yet. There would be time for that. You could feel it.

He would make time for you.

And for the first time in a very long while, Regulus believed in what you saw in him. He believed he could be kind, gentle, and loved.

But only because you had seen it first. Had named it. Had handed it to him freely, without condition.

He thought he should tell you, one day. That everything good he was becoming had started with you. But that could wait.

You had time now.

Time enough for him to return the favor. Time enough to tell you again and again just how extraordinary you were, until his lungs gave out and your cheeks stayed permanently pink.

Because that was the kind of future he wanted.

One where he never stopped reminding you that you were his favorite, too.

The words left his lips in a breath, a quiet confession. "Tu es le soleil qui me réchauffe."

 You are the sun that warms me up.

[crescenthistory]

okkkkk could you argue list C 68 with regulus x legilimence reader (aka mind reading reader) and what regulus would do if he found out his gf could always tell when he's lying. Please? and congrats! amazing job!!

thank you for the request lovely! with how i see reg's characterisation, i cannot picture him taking that kind of information in lightly, so this is perhaps a bit angstier than you were aiming for ahaha. i am also evidently insane, so this is an in-depth character study:,) enjoy!

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i will ARGUE for prompt 68 "this is news to me" with regulus black

carina's 2k celebration

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synopsis: regulus visits your pseudo-family, the mckinnons, with you for the first time, expecting only to struggle with the unfamiliar family dynamics. instead, a part of you previously unknown to him is revealed in passing, and his mind shuts down, memories and fears from his childhood taking over. the conversation that follows is one of the hardest and most significant he would have in his life.

wc: 6.2k

cw: fem!reader, references to walburga and orion's a++ parenting skills, aka mentions of abuse, neglect and childhood trauma, angst, momentary belief of betrayal, fresh relationship, hurt/comfort, references to black brothers angst, regulus pov (including his mental health struggles), you are basically an honorary mckinnon, references to your bad relationship to your bio family (neglect), crying, near-break up, declarations of love, happy ending, the entire fucking mckinnon family tree as supportive characters

Regulus had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He had since the beginning of his relationship with you, when he realised the enormity of his feelings and was simultaneously frightened, disgusted and relieved, struggling to balance healing from his childhood and falling in love with his future all at the same time. 

A part of him wished to warn you, to urge you away, to shield you from the darkness within him through rejection – but, he was selfish. At least, that is the conclusion he reached for why he couldn’t turn away from you and leave you be, why he invited you in, despite knowing in his chest that the other shoe would drop. Regulus had grown up in the constructed shadow of Sirius, and though he now realises that was not his brother’s inherent fault, he still couldn’t rid himself of the clawing feeling in his chest that he would always have nothing. Always be second, always be the spare, even when Walburga was forced to declare him the heir after Sirius turned his back. He would always be left with portraits instead of bodies.

If you, with all your fascinating and lovely self, opened your arms to him, Regulus could not bring himself to ask you to close them. He would fall into them, all while keeping a cage around his heart and both his shoes on the ground, by the door. 

He had expected it to be his fault though. It would be a matter of him not being enough, yet again.

No part of him expected it to be you; for you to be different in a way that he couldn’t stomach.

Regulus sat stiffly but not necessarily uncomfortably in the worn out chair in the McKinnon living room, quietly observing the bustling homely life around him. It was the first time he came along when you visited, wanting to meet the people you spoke so kindly of and see more of the connection that originally brought the two of you together – he still had to thank Dorcas for falling in love with your best friend. 

There were more kids than he could count – metaphorically speaking, that is, because Regulus had of course studied up on exactly how many kids would be there and what their names were before arriving – running around his ankles. You were over in the adjunct kitchen, helping Mrs. McKinnon with finalising dinner, while Marlene was outside hounding in the remaining children and cousins. It was loud in a way that kept Regulus’ spine straight and muscles tense, but he could feel his mouth dreaming of curling up into a smile. It wasn’t as awful as he had feared.

He saw your form through the door-less opening, your clothes and hair moving in an elegant flow, a practised choreography. That sight, more than anything else, was what kept him grounded.

Regulus had, of course, asked to help, but Mrs. McKinnon – “It’s Magda, dear, please scrap the formalities” – had ushered him out. “You’re still a guest in this household! This one on the other hand… she’s got to be put to work.” A motherly wink and a bump of her hip into yours as you stuck your tongue out. Natural. Nurturing. 

He felt in no position to argue, so he settled down with the children.

“Pst!” He turned to look down at the littlest of Marlene’s nieces, a sweet girl named Mabel with her blonde unruly curls tucked up into two uneven buns on each side of her head. She smiled with an unmistakable air of mischief, lifting her tiny brows at him. “You’re Uncle Reg, right?”

Regulus’ breath caught in his throat as a nervous laugh built in his chest. He wasn’t offended that the little thing didn’t catch his introduction a full 45 minutes ago when he went around shaking hands and waving, but he was confused by his title.

“Uh, my name is Regulus, yes. And you’re Mabel?” He tried to make his voice kind, but was unsure if it was working. 

She nodded with beaming pride and happiness, glad to be known. “You’re Auntie’s husband.” She didn’t ask, which bamboozled Regulus further – she looked very pleased to have made the connection.

Regulus leaned forward onto his knees to be closer to her height as he chuckled, still with an air of nerves. “Not quite, no, but I am here with your Auntie, yes.”

Mabel furrowed her brows, contentment slipping away in favour of confusion. “No. Uncle Reggie is my Auntie’s husband. Marly said so.”

Ah. His nerves were being schooled away in favour of internally rolling his eyes at his new-found friend. “Well, Marlene probably just tried to convey that your Auntie and I are very very close, which we are. That’s why I want to be here and meet you all.”

“Uh-huh. When will you marry her then?”

Regulus could feel his heart jump out of his chest – as did Mabel’s when their heads both jumped up at the sound from the kitchen. “Oi, Belly! C’mere sweetheart!”

He looked over Mabel’s already giggling and retreating form as she ran towards you in true toddler-fashion, and saw you winking and grinning at him. He let out a sigh of relief at the same time as you picked Mabel up and spun her around.

“Don’t you be bothering Reggie now, or he won’t come back!” He heard you whisper-yelling conspiratorially to the little girl as you tickled her, high-pitched giggles bubbling up from her lungs along with faux-shrieks of denial.

His muscles remained tense, but Regulus looked down in his lap with a grin before pushing up from his seat to walk over to the kitchen, where Mabel was released and running away all giddily. You looked at him with a smirk over your shoulder, looking gorgeous with your hair slightly messed up from the heat of the kitchen. “The children scaring you away?”

Regulus leaned against the opening with his arms crossed, still keeping everything in the kitchen in eye-sight, lest there be anything he could help with after all. The smile he spared you was hopefully as warm as the oven you had slaved over. “It would take more than little Mabel to scare me away.”

“Here you go, Maggie,” you said over your shoulder as you handed her a knife where she was about to start cutting the final herbs on the opposite side of the kitchen, before turning back to Regulus. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, because we’re all about to sit down for dinner.”

“You are such an effortless team,” Regulus admired your wordless communication, putting on his practised visiting-the-in-laws smile towards Magda. “Please do let me know if there is anything I can help with, Mrs– uh, Magda.”

Magda sighed happily, looking over at you, gesturing with the knife perhaps a bit too absentmindedly. “You picked such a polite one, dear. It hurts my heart! Reg, please, all you need to do is keep us company.”

His gaze diverted down to his feet as a slight flush crept up his cheeks, a smile blooming between them. “Thank you, Magda.”

You looked over your shoulder at her with a loud laugh. “No, keep that to yourself Maggie, you’ll just embarrass him more.”

Regulus furrowed his brows in confusion, the comment seemingly out of place, but Magda laughed so heartily he didn’t have it in him to ask. He didn’t want to bring more attention than necessary to how different his socialisation had been from yours.

Despite her best efforts, Magda could not stop Regulus from helping deck the table as the two of you began magically sending everything out – though, he realised quickly that his definition of decking the table was clearly quite contrasting from yours. The McKinnons did it the simple way, and while unsettled, he wholly appreciated it.

Marlene had since come in with her youngest brother on her shoulders, tugging at her hair. “Snake-boy, you haven’t been eaten by these little lions yet?” She greeted with a grin, dropping her brother off in his seat and whistling to alert the rest of the family that dinner was ready.

“I’ve come to learn I quite like lions,” Regulus replied, his usual snark more readily available with her. “Though I wouldn’t have minded my fellow snakes here.”

Marlene snorted. “Yeah, well, Cassie and Barty had work, so.” She shrugged, pinching his upper arm as she walked past him to herd in the rest. “You’re stuck with us.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Regulus murmured and found that he meant it.

As the entire family settled down at the table, Regulus felt a bit less steady in his ability to remember everyone’s names, but he hoped muscle memory would kick in. When Magda heard you would be stopping by with Regulus, she ensured that all six of the McKinnon siblings, along with their respective partners and children, would show up. Regulus was in no way unfamiliar with large family gatherings, but the volume of their voices and smiles took some getting used to.

It didn’t hurt that he sat beside you – and that your hand came to squeeze his knee as everyone settled in and began chattering away.

There was no introduction, no speech, just immediate good natured conversations and catching up, including from one end of the table to another. 

“Pass me the potatoes?” Martin – Regulus remembered; Marlene’s other younger brother, aged 7 – asked, his eyes set on Regulus.

“Of course.” The movement was swift and elegant, bowl outstretched.

When Martin grabbed the bowl, he forgot to thank Regulus and instead asked, “So, what are your intentions with our sister?”

Regulus’ brows furrowed. “I– I’m not dating your sister?”

You squeezed his knee again, suppressing a giggle. “He meant me, dear.”

“Oh.” His cheeks flushed yet again. To be fair, he should have deciphered that one himself. “Well… I intend to care for her for however long she’ll let me.”

Martin seemed displeased. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” you intercepted, reaching out to lightly flick his forehead. “That you should mind your business, you little worm.”

Martin opened his mouth, outraged in a manner only a 7 year old boy can be, lifting his finger in the air. “I–”

“Oh, don’t you dare say that, Martin McKinnon!” You cut him off, already laughing and making the little boy laugh with you, even as he crossed his arms petulantly. 

“You’re no fun when you damage control too early,” he mumbled, despite his grin. 

Regulus tried to follow the conversation, but found his eyes squinted in confusion.

This is where Margaret – Marlene’s two years older sister – chimed in. “It’s called with great powers comes great responsibility, twat. With legilimency comes the responsibility of shutting silly little boys up!” She reached her hand over past Marlene to pinch Martin’s side, making him shriek and giggle despite himself.

Legilimency. 

Oh. Oh.

In a matter of seconds, Regulus’ world came crashing down. 

For a brief minute, his mind was painfully empty, unable to think anything or draw forth any memory, all instinctively hidden away, even from himself. Then, he broke through his own walls and had wave after wave of memories hit him – lessons of “close your mind, young boy”, repetitions of “you’re pathetic”, the piercing pain of trying to shut it all out, the stinging hurt of feeling betrayed by the people he instinctively loved. Those memories had a unique ache to them, one he hadn’t dared try to combat yet; but the ones with you hit him harder. “I would never do that to you”, “you’re safe with me”, “I would never lie to you”, “I just get you”. 

I just get you.

Except you didn’t – you were a mind-reader.

None of it was real.

Regulus sat frozen to his seat, the tensing of his muscles digging much deeper now. It was not eased in the slightest when your hand returned to his knee, a previous warm touch now disturbingly cold.

“Reg?”

It took an immense amount of force for Regulus to turn his head sideways and meet your eyes, trying to make his as unreadable as possible, trying to close his mind for the first time in months. 

“Are you alright?” Your voice was feather-light, a question just for the two of you. A brief glance around told Regulus that no one had noticed his deceptively quiet change. Or, at least, they had the decency to not continue to notice. 

An imperceptible nod of his head and a tight-lipped smile. No words. 

Your brows furrowed in dismay, clearly unconvinced, but knowing better than to push him in public. You squeezed his knee once more reassuringly before Martin and Margaret dragged you back into conversation. 

Regulus truly hoped no one addressed him going forward, because he couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. He wanted to further hope that if they did, you would answer for him and redirect, but he found his heart unable to trust you. It promptly shattered beneath the weight of that knowledge.

The dinner flurried by in a haze, your hand never leaving his knee and Regulus never getting used to its weight, always noticing with a sickening sinking feeling in his stomach.

The one thing that distracted him at last was a tug at his sleeve.

He whipped his head around, probably faster than what would be perceived as normal – to see little Mabel had run out of her seat and now sat at his side. She reached her small grabby hands up towards him. “Upsies!”

You leaned around him, smiling endearingly at Mabel, your hair moving in his peripheral vision. “Oh, Mabel, Uncle Reggie is a bit–”

Before you could make some excuse for him, Regulus leaned down to scoop her up. She was surprisingly light, it was honestly a miracle that such tiny lungs could produce a squeal so loud straight into his ear.

Regulus could feel your gaze burning a hole in the side of his face as he bounced the little girl in his lap. Mabel was giddy, immediately chattering away with you, Marlene and the others sitting nearby, holding onto his arms for support. He couldn’t explain how he was able to pick her up, still largely detached from his body while processing the day's revelations – but she was so young and vulnerable, he couldn’t stand breaking her heart by rejecting her. 

When Mabel leaned over to pat your cheeks and blabber with you, Regulus was forced to move his body in your direction. Your hand left his knee in favour of tickling Mabel, but the side of your leg was now pressed against his. As your lips met the little girl’s forehead your eyes met his at last.

What he saw in them is what he any other day would have labelled pure concern. Now, he had a white prickling fear down his spine that those thoughts were not his own. Even if they were, they were not his because they were not private. Another thing stripped from him. 

As Mirabel eventually came over to pick up her daughter from Regulus to go put her to bed, you also rose from your seat, getting a head-start on the dishes while Magda still sat, surrounded by grandchildren. Her head perked up when she saw you move about, but you waved her off kindly.

With robotic movements, Regulus got up and followed in your footsteps, not wanting his single visit to be remembered as rude. Picking up plates with much less skill than he had placed them down, he walked towards the kitchen that you were walking out of. 

You tried to smile as you walked past him, but he didn’t look at your face.

Regulus’ entire body ached.

It ached even more when he almost collided with Marlene on his way back out of the kitchen. She, unlike the two of you, was not carrying any plates, only herself, as she acted like a door barricading him from the rest. Her light brown eyebrows were furrowed.

“Who pissed in your cereal, Black?”

Regulus couldn’t help himself, despite the circumstances. “I didn’t eat cereal.”

The blonde breathed out in exasperation, hands coming up to rest on the sides of her hips, though her features softened a little. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m alright.”

“What changed, then?”

Regulus stared emptily at her, only to find his own stubbornness mirrored perfectly in her. In this moment, she painfully reminded him of Sirius; a thought he immediately tried to file away.

He sighed. “I just didn’t expect… I didn’t know.”

“Know what?” Marlene’s face slowly morphed into one of uncomfortable understanding, seemingly piecing together what she had come to learn about Regulus and what she knew of her best friend. Her question came out as a whisper. “About the… legilimency?”

He drew a sharp breath through his teeth. “That was news to me.”

Marlene opened her mouth to say something, but Regulus found the audacity to hold up his hand. He hoped his look was more politely pleading. “Please – don’t. I really don’t want to hear it yet.”

She pressed her lips tightly together, evidently distraught at not having the opportunity to defend her best friend. Yet, her internal monologue decided in his favour. “Fine,” she answered tightly. “You better figure it out though.”

With that, Marlene gave him a final look and turned on her heel, looking for some toddler to scoop up and throw over her muscled shoulder. Her retreating form revealed you standing there with some plates near the table, stalling by chatting with Mr. McKinnon, whom Regulus had done his best to avoid. You were looking at him. The ice in Regulus settled in deeper at the thought that you could have been privy to this conversation, too.

He sucked in a breath and turned around to begin washing the dishes. 

For whatever reason, you gave him a few minutes of space. With his back to you, he still remained painfully aware of you levitating dishes in to him in the kitchen as he began magically scrubbing them. Trying to scrub away his thoughts the same way, and then his feelings.

You gave him space, but you wouldn’t let him wallow – and thus, just when it felt like the world would never stop spinning, you placed your hand delicately on his shoulder. Everything stopped, for better or for worse. Regulus didn’t turn.

“Hi, love,” you whispered. “Ready to go home?”

Regulus turned around at that, desperate to keep neutral even as his face scrunched in confusion. “Didn’t you want to stay late?”

Your smile was wistful. “You see, I’ve gotten such a headache. Probably have become unadjusted to these environments. Magda has wrapped up some leftovers and gotten the floo network ready for us.”

Regulus’ heart twinged at the excuse you had concocted for him; then, it immediately broke as a voice reminded him that he couldn’t trust this, couldn’t trust you. The voice sounded eerily like his Mother’s.

At a loss, he found himself just barely nodding in agreement. 

He summoned enough courage to smile as he entered the living room, seeing most of the adults and older children gathered, some already running up to hug you goodbye. And not just you – Regulus suddenly had Martin and Milly at his feet for goodbye hugs. He went through the motions, politely hugging and waving goodbye, trying to distance himself from his body so he wouldn’t have to feel it.

Despite having no intention of returning, Regulus knew he had to make a good final impressions, so he walked up to Mr. McKinnon and stretched out his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said with an as steady voice he could produce at the moment. 

The older man looked down at his hand and back up at his face, before using the outstretched hand as leverage to pull Regulus into a tight hug. “It’s Mason to you, son. Come back soon.”

Regulus nodded with a tight-lipped smile, saying nothing else as he turned towards the fireplace. There he received two almost identical hugs from Marlene and Magda, save that Marlene whispered “don’t overthink this” in his ear while Magda whispered “be good to each other, alright love?”

Never before had Regulus appreciated the flurry of travelling with the floo as much as now. 

When he landed in your flat beside you, everything felt quiet. Dark. 

Your shared living room felt like it was closing in on him and Regulus quite honestly might have thrown up, had that not involved a touch more vulnerability than he was willing to reveal now. Instead, he shrugged, trying to shake the feeling off him, and immediately made a beeline for the bedroom.

“Reg…” you whispered after him.

He didn’t respond; he closed the bedroom door behind him and leaned against it, effectively keeping it shut.

Feeling every bit like the 8 year old currently shaking in the depths of his memory, Regulus slid down the door, settling at the bottom of it, cradling his knees against his chest.

In the acute silence of your flat, he could hear your heavy sigh. He tried to interpret it without letting up on his attempts at occluding, at schooling his mind from you. It didn’t seem angry or disappointed, just… broken. He couldn’t decipher in what way. 

Once upon a time, he had become excellent at it, but in the presence of his friends and you, he had let it slip. Somehow it was harder to hide his thoughts around you because his feelings were so screaming loud.  

The creaking of the floorboards were unmistakable as you walked up to the bedroom door. He expected your hand on the handle, he expected a confrontation. Instead, he felt a soft thud against the door as you slid down on your side of it in parallel to Regulus himself. His mind began to imagine how you looked, how you leaned against it and slowed your descent down, how your head was turned sideways, looking down at the small gap beneath the frame – but if he began to imagine too much, he would lose his grip on his occlusion.

He drew a deep breath and leaned his head against the door. Closed his eyes. Focussed. 

“Regulus, my love.” Your voice was soft and quiet, slightly muffled through the door, but he could hear you alright. “What’s going on in that pretty mind of yours? What happened, lovely?” 

A flicker of irritation flamed in him at your word choice and he couldn’t stop himself from the bite in his words, the first real words he spoke to you since. “Can’t you just see for yourself?”

A momentary silence. “What is that supposed to mean?” A little wounded, a little wary.

“You know.” His voice was hoarse. The insistent voice in Regulus’ head was kicking him for engaging with you on this, for not waving his wand to pack his suitcase and run as far as possible. He didn’t want to think about why, but he… he couldn’t do that. Not yet.

He heard you shuffling through the door, as if you shifted sideways to pretend to see him through the door. “My love, is this… is this about the l-legilimency?” Your voice was shaking in a way that made Regulus’ face scrunch up in pain – you seemed scared and he hated it, even if he didn’t get why.

But if you were scared, he was terrified. “Of course it is,” he breathed out, frustration leaking into his voice. “Of course it is. You’ve deceived me.”

“I didn’t deceive you.” Your response was immediate. “I didn’t deceive you, I just didn’t tell–”

“That’s the same thing! You… you kept it from me.” Regulus curled up into a smaller ball, hands coming up to cover his face. Breathe. Close your mind. Breathe. Close your mind. 

You were silent for a second. “I have never used it on you. Regulus, I have never read your mind.”

“Bloody convenient that I would never know, huh?” He laughed darkly, spiralling further. 

“You could, if you wanted. I would… I would let you try to read mine. Anyone can learn, it’s just that I… I had to be born with it.” Your voice was wavering. It almost brought Regulus clarity, but he couldn’t bring himself to allow it to. “I promise you Reg, I wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he let his hands fall to either side of his body. He let out perhaps the worst-tasting sentence his lips had formed. “I don’t believe you.”

This time, you were silent for longer. 

You sounded painfully choked when you at last spoke up. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Regulus whispered in the same tone, and that was himself talking, not any voices. 

The unmistakable sound of you beginning to get up rang through the silent flat, and panic surged through Regulus’ heart. Your name blurted out past his lips before he could stop himself.

“W-wait.” He turned to face the door, sitting cross-legged and leaning his forehead against the wood. It was terrified defiance, self-perceived stupidity and relentless love that drove his speech. “Don’t go. Not yet, please.”

If you had walked away now, Regulus was sure he would have crumbled, he would have had to apparate to Barty’s and never look back. Instead, you let out a breath he was beginning to suspect was a sob and sat back down. He felt the soft thud of you leaning against the door once more – he hoped it was your forehead, that yours were pressed together with only the wood separating you.

“Explain. Please.”

Your breathing was ragged enough that Regulus knew you were crying, rubbing your face to rid yourself of the tears before they could fall too far, like you always did. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, voice high-pitched. “I didn’t… I don’t tell people. Anyone. Because of… because…”

Because of this exact moment.

You seemed to try to stabilise yourself. Regulus ached to reach for you but remained silently rooted in place, save for the way he nudged his forehead against the door as if it was your skin. 

“Why did you think I’m so close with the McKinnons?” you asked after what felt like an eternity of silence and brazing yourself. “Why do you think I’m not close with my family?”

Regulus didn’t have an answer to that. In his friend group, no one had a good relationship with their biological families and, if it could be helped, no one talked about it. A realisation began to settle in. “I just assumed… I just assumed they were bad.” He cringed at how weak of a response that was.

You laughed a bit dryly. “No, they were entirely justified. Who would want a freak for a daughter?”

If a single sentence could have changed his mind, it would have been that one. His eyes squeezed shut in pain as he shook his head. “Amour, you’re not–”

“No?” You cut him off, tone a bit pointed. Regulus could understand why. “Some people train for years to master legilimency but I came out of the womb seeing and understanding everything. It freaked me out and once they realised, same thing there. Only the McKinnons had enough children to not care for an oddball or two.”

Regulus trained his eyes on the little gap beneath the door. He placed one hand near it, not close enough to slide his fingers beneath, but enough for his fingertips to dream of it.

“They were kind to me, Regulus,” you whispered in a hauntingly sweet voice. “That’s why I… wanted you to meet them too.”

“They are kind,” he agreed at last, voice hoarse and rough.

The breath you let out at that thankfully sounded more like a choked laugh than another sob. “I tried to get rid of it, you know. I learned to control it, not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I couldn’t stand living like this. So I… I don’t do it anymore. I hold back. I don’t read minds, I don’t read feelings or instincts unless I absolutely have to or… unless that person wants to. The McKinnons want to and with them it’s never been… something bad. It usually makes me feel sick, but it feels good with them. I don’t tell people because I don’t want them to know that I can do it, not because I don’t want them to know that I am doing it. I swear to you Regulus, I swear, I have never read your mind.”

At last, tears spilled down his cheeks. Searing and stinging, dripping over porcelain skin and splattering softly against the floor. “You should have told me, amour.” It was all he could say.

“I’m sorry.” He supposed that was all you could say.

Regulus fought for power over his own voice as tears continued spilling. He fought for power over his mind that was still screaming at him that you could be lying, he fought for power over his heart that knew you weren’t but was busy splintering at the pain you’ve carried. Of all the things he prepared himself for this afternoon, this conversation was not it.

“I am sorry,” he managed to force out at last, urgent. “Trust… trust is everything to me, and it is nothing because I almost never have it. That isn’t your fault, it’s– it’s probably my parents. I don’t talk of them. I don’t want to talk of them, you know this, but they– they would use anything against me. Anything I said or did, but also anything I thought or felt. It terrifies me that someone might have control of me.”

It cut him so deep to speak those words out loud, to share them with someone else, but either you had read his mind and already knew, or you were true, in which case you deserved to know. He heard you sniffle through the door.

“I would never.” Your voice was adamant despite how it broke. “I would never. You’re the one with control over me. I love you so deeply Regulus, I would never intentionally hurt you.”

“That’s what she would say,” he whispered. Not because he didn’t believe you, but because he needed to say it.

Your hand came down to rest near enough the gap beneath the door that he could see your fingers. “Did you feel loved by her?”

A sob. “No.”

Your next question was tentative, fragile. “Do you feel loved by me?”

It scared him that it was an immediate answer for him. “Yes.”

Your fingers scooted beneath the door, an open invitation. Slowly, as if this was the major decision, Regulus moved his fingers to brush against yours, to rest side by side under the door.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to tell you before we went,” you whispered with a renewed energy. “I can’t say I’m sorry for not telling you right away, because I wouldn’t have been able to – but you didn’t deserve to find out like this and I should have known better. I am so sorry for putting you through this.”

Regulus’ fingers pushed more firmly against yours, tear tracks on his face drying slowly. “You didn’t put me through anything.”

You laughed quietly, shortly, unsure of how much was allowed, unsure what would happen. He didn’t really know either, acting on his heart’s instinct in a way wholly unfamiliar to him. 

“I’m sorry for reinforcing your fears,” he whispered then. “You’re not a freak. To me personally or in general. You’re not. You’re beautiful and wonderful and so capable. Legilimency isn’t… freakish, it’s a skill and a weapon. It’s the weaponisation that scares me.”

“Will you be able to live with the fear?” you asked, voice small. “I promise I will never weaponise it, never use it on you, but… is that enough?”

Regulus was quiet.

Then – “Can we open the door?”

“It’s up to you, my love.” Your voice sounded more defeated than he liked.

He withdrew his fingers and slowly lifted himself back up, slightly lightheaded as he reached for the handle. Tentatively, he turned it and opened the door inward, finding you sat in the exact same position he had been, cross-legged in front of the door.

You began to sit up, but before you could, Regulus quickly sat back down in front of you – this time, without the door separating you. Your legs were pressed against each other and slowly, ever so slowly, he reached out to place his hands over yours folded in your lap.

The sight of your face, riddled with many more tears than what Regulus had caught through the door, eyes shining with uncertainty was enough to tear him apart. He squeezed your hands.

“I– I love you.” The words were thick, incredibly hard to form on his tongue. “I do. And that is your greatest weapon against me, probably much more than legilimency could be. I didn’t think I could withstand it, but now… I don’t think I can do anything else. I can’t lose you.”

A few more tears rolled down your cheeks. Your lips trembled, but curled into a small smile nonetheless. With delicate movements, you turned your hands so that you could intertwine your fingers with his. “You couldn’t lose me. Even if you left, I would still have been yours, just a lot more heartbroken about it.”

Regulus laughed wetly. “We’re not wired right, amour. We’re just not.”

You leaned forwards and Regulus met you halfway, foreheads finally touching. “It doesn’t matter,” you whispered. “We can rewire each other together. You just… have to believe me. Trust me.”

He closed his eyes, leaning more heavily against you. “I trust you. I do trust you, it’s just– it’s just my mind that doesn’t. And not because of you, it can’t trust anyone. Not even Barty, not even Pandora. Not even Sirius.”

You let out a breath of laughter. “I know all about battling your mind. If your heart trusts me, I reckon that’s enough for me.”

Regulus drew you closer, moving his fingers up to hold your wrists, delicate long fingers spreading out over supple skin. “If you are trying to figure out if you are enough for me, amour, then of course. Of course you are, yes. That’s why it would break me so if you weren’t true, if you had been deceiving me – you’re not just enough for me, you’re all I need.”

He could feel your tears landing on his forearms as you gently nudged your nose against his in response.

“Please,” he whispered, not knowing what he was pleading for.

Somehow, you still gave it to him. You tipped your chin upwards and let your lips meet his in a slow, wet kiss. Every movement spoke of dozens of layers of emotions, layers that were stripped back and doted on as your hands continued its caress up his arms and shoulders to cup his face and hold it like it was yours. 

Regulus sighed into the kiss, leaning more of his weight against you as he enveloped you, inviting him into his very being despite how hard he fought to keep you out earlier. The Walburga-like voice in his mind was drowned out as he tried to repeat mantras over and over to wash it away.

Her, her, her, her.

Mine, mine, mine, mine.

Safe, safe, safe, safe.

When you came apart, you kept peppering small soft kisses around his lips, cheeks and nose, catching the last of Regulus’ tears as they fell. Your hands cradled his face so gently it almost hurt, but this was a kind of pain he welcomed.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated breathlessly.

“Please don’t be,” you whispered back, moving to kiss his closed eyelids with reverence.

“I always will be.”

“As will I.”

Regulus opened his eyes to frown at you. With a slight smile, you leaned in to kiss it away. He let you and hummed as he deepened the kiss, holding you close.

It was a tender, fragile night as the candles around your flat were finally lit and you changed into more comfortable clothes to hold each other on your wide window sill, looking at the stars as you talked it through.

The atmosphere remained somewhat tense, but in the same way you are tense after almost losing your partner on the battlefield, not the tension that comes from any lingering hostilities. Regulus kissed your shoulders softly each time he wanted to speak but didn’t know how, lips pressed against skin in silent apologies and declarations and promises.

You believed him – and you trusted that he believed you. 

[blossomarlia]

dressing up

When you're unsure how you feel in the dress the boys bought you, they make sure to re-inspire some confidence. (reupload from previous blog, see navigation for more info!)

poly!jegulus x fem! reader

warnings: mostly fluff, sexual references and implied smut at the end, reader has hair and is able-bodied.

You rub the liquid-soft silk of your dress absent-mindedly between two fingers, eyes locked on your reflection in the bathroom mirror. When you'd tried it on just a few days ago, the shop lady had told you you were a vision; now you're sure she was just trying to sell her product.

You want to blame the sizing- maybe it's too small, the wrong shape, impossible to look good in even if you had the body of a mannequin. But even that doesn't seem plausible. It's a beautiful dress, high-quality with a price to match. There's no alternative: you must be the problem, straining fabric with the parts of you that you wish you could just forget about.

You breathe out as much as you can, trying not to flush with the embarrassment you feel at the thought of having to show your boyfriends just what a mistake it was, encouraging you to spend their money on a pretty dress you can't possibly wear. It was wrong of you to accept the gift. Guilt boils hot and hurting in your stomach as you imagine your lovely boyfriends, so pleased to finally have convinced you to let them sponsor such a luxury. How awful to repay them by looking dowdy and silly and not at all right for something so beautiful.

You think quickly, aware of the expectant pair sitting just seconds away in the living room. You can't pass them without revealing yourself, but the prospect is unimaginable. What a waste of money.

“Baby?” James’ voice, soft and cheerful, sounds from just past the door. Your throat tightens. “Not that we’re too miffed, but we would like to see you at some point. You’ve been in there since we got back from the shops twenty minutes ago.”

Shit. You curse yourself for deciding to come in here for a full-body view of the dress, leaving all your other clothing in the bedroom. Exiting naked would usually warrant rather a happy reaction from the boys, but after looking a few moments more at the outline of your body in the mirror, that doesn't seem like a good option either. “Sorry!”

"Not to worry, sweetheart."

James’ white bathrobe is the only reasonable alternative. You grab it off the hook by the towels and wrap it around yourself, nodding contentedly as it reveals only a sliver of fabric at your chest and nothing more. You might as well be wearing a nightie, for all they know. The dress will just have to be returned, and you'll tell them you couldn't find one that fit- technically correct.

You aim to leave the bathroom casually, but that becomes almost impossible when you open the door and find yourself face-to-face with Regulus, his fist raised as if to knock.

“Hi, Reg!” Too cheery. You tamper down your smile and stand on your tip-toes to kiss him, holding the robe tightly around yourself.

“Hello. I was just going to ask what you wanted for dinner. Are you alright, darling?" He wonders, watching you with storm-grey eyes that always seem to see just a little more than you're expecting them to.

"Of course! Dandy." You supply.

He cocks his head, unmoving. "You’re in an odd mood.”

“What? No. This is my usual mood,” You insist.

“M-hm.” His eyes drop momentarily down to the robe, narrowing. “Any particular reason you're wearing James' robe?” 

“Am I?”

The aforementioned individual appeared, suddenly, grinning. “I don’t mind. Looks great, very sexy!”

You wonder if it's possible for your face to heat so much that it melts.

“Incorrigible, James.” Regulus says softly.

You give him a weak smile, squirming away from the impossible weight of their combined gazes and heading for the bedroom. Regrettably, they follow you.

“Why are you wearing it, angel?” James asks, flopping onto the bed. 

You shrug, searching for an opportunity to get them both to leave you alone to change. The truth is that your own robe would've been much too short, and if they see the bottom of the dress they'll probably ask for the whole thing, and that's just not going to happen. You press your fingers into the soft curve of your lower stomach nervously, taking a few steps backwards until your back hits the wall. James' brows pull together. 

“Um. I don't know.”

The two of them exchange a glance. You understand; you're not exactly behaving in a normal manner.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Regulus asks. You like to think you're better at reading his expressions than most- the slight slant of his dark brows tells you he's concerned, but you can't get a good read on the rest of it.

"Yes, I'm fine! Why are you- I- I'm just a little warm."

"Call me crazy, angel," James says, amused, "But taking off the robe might help with that."

Your reply comes too quickly, to your immediate regret. "No!"

There's a brief silence. You feel like a total idiot, but you're sure it beats the feeling you'd get seeing them pretend to like the way you look right now. You squeeze your eyes shut for second, swallowing hard.

"I'm sorry," You sound mortifyingly close to tears. "Sorry. I just- sorry."

At a total loss, James stares at you from the bed. Regulus touches your upper arm gently.

"There's no need to apologise, darling, just tell us what's happened. What's made you so upset?"

You force yourself to make eye contact. "Please can you both just go while I get changed?"

Their expressions are awful; knowing you're causing such a fuss over something so trivial, so stupid, you feel like just about the worst girlfriend in the world.

“Is there something you're worried we'll see? Bruises, or something?” James asks. "We can go, baby, but if there's something going on it might be better for Reg or me to take a look. You know I was joking when I said I'd break up with you if you got that tattoo of Margaret Thatcher's face."

You deflate, softened by his attempt to break the tension. Regulus rolls his eyes, but you see the corner of his mouth twitch. "What's going on, hm?" He asks quietly.

With a sigh, you stare at the ground, giving up. They're too lovely to stick to your original plan- you'll just have to let it happen, and hope to make up for it another time by looking better.

"...I'm not sure you'll love what you see."

“Of course we’ll love it. We love you.” Regulus says firmly, like it's obvious.

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Angel. Take the robe off, yeah? We’ll prove it to you.” 

At James' insistence, you take a deep breath and stare at the ground as you shrug off the robe, wrapping your arms around your middle. You're keenly aware of the places where your skin presses against fabric, the way it falls, and the heat rushing to your cheeks. Oh, god.

"Fuck." Regulus says, uncharacteristically crude. You curl in on yourself a little further.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not how it looked on the-”

James interrupts you. “Baby? I’m gonna be honest, because I love you, okay?”

“Okay.” You say meekly, eyes stinging. Maybe it's even worse than you’d thought.

“I cannot hear a single word you are saying when you look that good. Like, a single word. It’s all lost on me. I’m going to need a minute.” 

Regulus’ hands are on you before you could properly react to James’ words, drawing your arms away from your body and taking in the dress with hungry eyes. 

“Exquisite, sweetheart," He exclaims, hands on yours. "I would say you’re never taking this off, but that’s actually all I want to do.”

"What?" You manage, smiling despite yourself. You pull your hands away and press them to your face. "Reg, you don't have to-"

“You thought we wouldn’t want to see this?” Hands on your shoulders, Regulus spins you once, before pulling your back against his chest and planting a heated kiss to the side of your neck. “And you called me crazy?”

“You’re- I’m- what?” You stammer. James makes an unintelligible sound from the bed, pressing a dramatic hand to his heart. "Thank you."

"Don't thank us, angel. Holy shit. I'm thanking you. I'm thanking the gods. I'm thanking-"

"James is very thankful." Regulus whispers into your hair. You laugh out loud, a little giddy at all their praise. "D'you know what I'd be thankful for right now?"

"What?"

"You on that bed, darling," He says. You lean into his touch as his hand slides down your side, squeezing a part of your waist you'd prodded critically in the mirror not ten minutes ago. Now you enjoy the feeling of his warm hands through the thin fabric, enjoy having a shape his hands both appreciate so well. "Off you go."

It's an instruction, now, and you shiver at the authority in his tone as you obey. James is on you before the duvet has even settled, making you gasp as he presses kisses all over your face.

“I’m going to destroy this dress. I’m sorry.” He says earnestly. You giggle happily, insecurities not quite gone but coated in a honey-sweet joy that softens their presence.

“I thought you liked it.”

“M-hm. It’s okay,” His hand finds your thigh and grips it firmly, fingers pressing into soft skin. “We’ll buy you a million more.” 

You let yourself enjoy it all for a moment more before giving any space to the snarky voice at the back of your mind, more out of a desire for reassurance than genuine belief that the two boys on top of you would genuinely do such a thing. "You're not- not just saying all this to make me feel better?"

“Why would we ‘just say’ this?” Regulus murmurs against your right shoulder, forearm across your stomach as he does wicked things to your skin that you'll have to cover in concealer if you want to wear anything sleeveless for a few days.

“...I don't know. Make me feel better?”

“You’re stunning. Literally- how often is James speechless, hm?” 

You laughed. “Hardly ever.” 

“Exactly. You're quite regularly the most beautiful girl either of us have ever seen, darling, whether you're feeling the same way or not,” Regulus leans on his elbow to look at you sternly. "We don't appreciate you this way because you look like somebody else, we adore you because you're yourself, and completely radiant."

“I don’t think you don't like me, I promise. It’s just something that’s in my brain- that I’m ugly, or something. It's silly."”

"It is," James agrees, allowing Regulus to return to whatever he's doing to your collarbone. "But it's not your fault. Your only job is to listen to what we're telling you, instead of your insecurity. Yeah?"

"Yeah," You nod, a little breathless. It's very easy to be agreeable when they're doing all these things to you. James kisses a line down your throat, to your chest, to your arm, slipping the strap of the dress down to follow. “I love you both," You manage.

They answer in their own, doubly enjoyable, ways.

[bartonomy]

AND ISN‘T IT TRAGIC, THE WAY GHOSTS TAKE FORM?

PAIRING regulus black x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS in the shadowed heart of the war, two souls are bound between salvation and collapse. But war is never black and white—and neither are the people in it.

CONTENT WARNING death eater reg, there are no implications but i imagined the reader being a slytherin alumni, open/hopeful ending, angst, dumbledore being the shitty self he is

CONTENT WARNING 7.3k

library.

The candlelight flickered in Dumbledore’s office, casting long, wavering shadows over the cluttered space. The scent of aged parchment and Treacle Tarts lingered in the air, but you weren’t in the mood for sweets.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides as you stared at the old man sitting across from you. His blue eyes, always so frustratingly kind, studied you with a quiet patience, as if he were waiting for you to unravel yourself before him.

You refused.

“You’re asking me to sell my soul,” you said at last, your voice even but laced with something sharp that would even scare away the most vicious kinds of creatures.

Dumbledore sighed, resting his chin upon his intertwined fingers. “I am asking you to do what no one else can.”

You scoffed. “No one else is stupid enough to do it, is what you mean, professor.”

He tilted his head, as if conceding the point. “Perhaps.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You could already feel the phantom weight of the Dark Mark on your arm, though it had not yet been seared into your skin. That part would come later.

“You knew I would say yes, didn’t you?”

Dumbledore did not answer immediately. He merely regarded you with that maddening, knowing gaze of his. “I hoped,” he admitted.

You clenched your jaw. “Why me?”

The old man’s expression softened. “Because you are the only one who can walk into the dark and still find your way back.”

The words unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

You turned away, staring at the window, at the stars beyond the glass, at Leo. Somewhere, out there, Regulus Black was making his own choices- choices you weren’t sure you could save him from.

“You’re asking me to become the thing I hate most,” you whispered.

Dumbledore’s voice was gentle but unwavering. “I am asking you to become the thing that will end it.”

You merely exhaled shakingly at his words and looked up, blinking away stray tears.

You had known, the moment he called you into this office, that there was only one answer you could give. Dumbledore studied you for a long moment, his eyes piercing yet unreadable. It was a strange thing, how a man so burdened with knowledge and secrets could still manage to look at the world with something like hope.

You weren’t sure you believed in that anymore. But he did. And for whatever reason, he believed in you.

He leaned forward slightly, his fingers still intertwined. “This will not be easy,” he said, voice quiet but steady. “You will not always have the luxury of choosing whom to save, miss L/N.”

Your throat tightened. You had already known that. “I understand,” you said, though you weren’t sure you truly did.

Dumbledore regarded you carefully. “You must understand, taking the Dark Mark will not merely be an illusion. You will not be playing pretend. You will be bound to him in ways that extend beyond the physical. It will test you, in ways I fear I cannot prepare you for.”

The phantom weight of it burned on your skin, despite its absence. Scratch, scratch, scratch.

“Then I’ll learn.”

Dumbledore exhaled through his nose, his gaze flickering over you as if committing you to memory. “You are remarkably brave.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “I think you mean absolutely reckless.”

The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Often, the two can live in parallels.”

The air between you stilled. The walls of his office, lined with books and ancient relics, felt smaller now, like they were closing in, like the weight of what you had agreed to do was already settling upon your shoulders. Somewhere in the castle, life continued. Students studied for exams. Younger years whispered about crushes in dimly lit corridors. People fell in love, hearts beat, life moved on.

And yet here you were, leaving the safety of a place you once called home, not even finished with your education, on the precipice of something irreversible.

You straightened your shoulders. “When do I begin?”

Dumbledore watched you for a long moment before nodding, as if accepting the finality of your choice.

“You will go to them shortly,” he said simply. “And you will not look back.”

You swallowed hard. And for the first time, you wondered if you had just sealed your fate.

“Tell me what I have to do.”

The Dark Mark burned. You clenched your jaw as you rolled down the sleeve of your shirt, hiding the brand that would forever mark you as something you weren’t. You had known what you were signing up for when you agreed to spy for the Order that night. You had accepted all the difficulties that came with it. But some days, the weight of it was suffocating.

You were in Malfoy's Manor when you saw him.

Regulus Black stood across the room, his dark curls tousled, his expression cold and unreadable, strikingly more gaunt than the last time you saw him months ago, as he listened to a conversation between two other Death Eaters, Avery and Donahov. He had always been poised, elegant, carrying himself with the kind of grace expected of a Black.

But there was something different now. Something in his posture, the tightness of his jaw.

Doubt.

You had spent months trying to forget him. He had left you. Chosen his family, his duty, over you. Over what was right in his little bubble of nobility.

So why did he still make your heart ache?

Regulus turned his head ever so slightly, and as if he was hit by a wave of whiplash, his gaze met yours.

Your breath caught.

For a moment, neither of you looked away. Neither of you even dared to breathe. The world around you faded- the murmuring voices, the obnoxious shrill of laughter of his deranged cousin, the crackling fire somewhere in the back, the war that loomed over your heads like a storm waiting to break.

And then, his gaze broke off.

You forced yourself to stay composed as he put on his masked facade again. He glanced around, ensuring no one was listening, and charmed a slip of paper in your palm.

Your hand itched to open the note, but your mind knew better than doing it in the company of the dark mages. But the moment you were excused, you unfolded the parchment, as if it was a grand lead to a treasure long lost.

Meet me at the entrance of the forbidden forest. Midnight.

You hesitated. He wasn’t stupid. He was perceptive, far too observant for his own good. He suspected something. And even if he didn't, you were far too weak to uphold your carefully crafted persona in front of him.

But this was Regulus, your Regulus. And despite everything, despite the years and the war and the Mark that burned on your arm, you still found yourself nodding.

“Midnight,” you murmured.

And for the first time in months, you felt the cracks in your armor.

The forest was quiet when you apparated in.

Your heartbeat was an unsteady rhythm in your ears, each step heavier than the last. You had debated coming here at all, trying to find an excuse for your lack of presence when you next see him, but in the end, the pull of him had been too strong.

You hated that he still had that power over you.

Regulus was already waiting when you arrived. He stood near an enchanted tree, fiddling with a fallen leaf, moonlight casting pale silver over his even paler face. For a long moment, neither of you dared to speak.

“You shouldn’t be with him.” The words left your lips before you could stop them. A whisper. A warning. Regulus exhaled a short, humorless laugh. “Neither should you.”

You swallowed hard. He wasn’t wrong. “You took the Mark,” he said after a beat, quieter this time and looked at your covered arm, tucked into your pocket. You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “So did you, Black.”

He flinched. Just barely. But you caught it.

Regulus crossed the ground, slowly closing the distance between you. His voice was low, edged with hesitation. “Why?”

You had prepared for this. You had spent weeks perfecting your lie, training yourself to wear the mask of a loyal follower. But something about him, about his voice, about the way his eyes searched your face, made the words harder to form.

You inhaled sharply. “Because it was the only way to survive.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely.

Regulus studied you. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he wanted to reach for you but thought better of it.

“You don’t believe in this.” It wasn’t a question.

You forced a smirk. “What makes you so sure?”

He studied you for far longer than you would have liked. The trees rustled gently in the back as his eyes bore flaming holes into yours. "Because I know you, and the little viper I know had always stood behind the greater good, and not the clearly rotten mark on society."

The words knocked the last remaining calm air from your lungs. He had always seen you too clearly, even when you tried to hide. And for the first time in what felt like years, you allowed yourself to wonder, did he know? Of course he did, but you could not let the thought of him maybe sharing your same notions wander away.

Your chest tightened. It was too dangerous to ask. Too dangerous to hope. So instead you only questioned, “And what about you, Regulus? Are your parents finally pleased enough for you to drop the act now?”

He tensed.

“Is this an act too? Or do somehow along the way started to enjoy this twisted and merciless life?”

The question stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. He looked up, looking at the night sky, ”I don’t know anymore.”

You stared at him, your pulse thudding in your ears. He was unraveling. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still a part of the boy you had loved buried beneath the darkness.

A part of him worth saving.

The familiar creak of the door echoed through the dimly lit room as you stepped into the Burrow. The stone walls seemed to hum with the energy of the war, every crack and crevice hiding secrets that only those within the walls understood. It was a place of refuge for those who still fought for the light in a world increasingly dominated by darkness.

You had become accustomed to the sounds of hushed conversations, the careful exchange of information, and the underlying tension that filled the room every time someone new arrived. The air was heavy with the weight of expectations, expectations you had come to dread each passing day. Every time you spoke, every word you shared with the others, you were met with concealed judgments and doubt. Your mission required you to be careful, to never show any weakness or vulnerability. To keep your secrets hidden in the same way your identity was concealed, though your efforts were smashed by Regulus on your first day out in the world.

As you made your way toward the corner of the cramp room, your eyes briefly flicked over to the group seated around the table. James, Moody, Remus, and Kingsley were gathered, discussing the most recent movements of the Death Eaters. Their conversation was a familiar one, each of them trying to piece together the puzzle that Voldemort was carefully constructing, all while remaining as cautious as they were determined.

“You look troubled,” Remus’ voice broke through your thoughts as you approached the table, his eyes searching your face with a quiet intensity. You had grown closer to him over the past months, his quiet strength, his understanding, had become a comfort in the midst of this chaos, sharing more conversations in the weeks following your allegiance to the order, than the years you spent at school.

You forced a smile, trying to push down the anxiety that threatened to choke you. “It’s nothing. Just trying to keep up with everything. It's all bloody stressful, y'know?” Your voice betrayed you, and Remus didn’t miss it. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as if he was considering pressing the issue, but he let it go for now and took a seat next to Marlene.

“Any updates from your side?” Kingsley asked, his voice deep and authoritative. It had been less than a month since you had been in contact with the Death Eaters and by default, Regulus, and the pressure of keeping up appearances was already starting to take a massive toll on you.

You nodded, taking a seat at the table, the chair screeching uncomfortably against the wooden floor. “Yes,” you began, carefully choosing your words, knowing every syllable mattered in the presence of the aurors. “The Dark Lord has been pushing for something… bigger. I don’t have all the details yet and there's an unbreakable vow involved, but he’s planning something that will have a much broader reach. It’s more than just small rampages. I think he’s building up to something irreversibly catastrophic.”

The room fell silent as everyone absorbed your words, and you could feel the eyes of the group on you, reading you, searching for anything that might indicate more than you were willing to reveal. You had dreaded the moment on your way here, where you would have to mention the vow to the order, and now it's out, you could feel their suspicion, though none of them would dare voice it openly. They trusted you. Or at least, they wanted to trust you.

Lily, spoke up next, her voice light but concerned. “Do you think he’s ready to make a move? You mentioned he’s building up to something… Do you have any idea what it could be?”

You hesitated. “I have a suspicion , but I’ll keep my eyes open. I’m sure he’ll reveal more soon. It’s just… it feels different this time. I don’t know how to explain it.” You leaned back in your chair, trying to make the words sound natural, but you knew they would scrutinize you further, your silence hung in the air.

Moody, who had been unusually quiet until now, snorted. “We’ve been hearing the same bloody thing for months. ‘He’s planning something big.’ ‘He’s building up.’ What do you think, L/N? Do you have anything concrete for us? Or are we wasting our time? And what is with the talk of the unbreakable? ”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you fought to maintain your composure. You couldn’t afford to slip now. “I’m giving you what I can, Moody,” you bit back, your voice more sharp with venom than you had intended. “This is real. I’m taking real risks here, so don’t make it sound like I’m not pulling my weight.”

“They can’t be trusted, Dumbledore,,” Moody growled, his electric-blue eye spinning wildly as he slammed his fist onto the table. “They’ve sworn an Unbreakable Vow to You-Know-Who. One wrong move, and we’re all dead.”

You clenched your fists under the table, keeping your expression blank despite the accusation. You’d known this moment would come-Moody never did trust easily.

Dumbledore, seated calmly at the head of the table, merely folded his hands. His blue eyes twinkled with something knowing, something understanding. “And yet, Alastor,” he said gently, “they are still here, risking their life to bring us information. That should count for something, don’t you think?”

“Risking it for who?” Moody spat. “The Order? Or-” He hesitated, eyes narrowing. “No. There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Your throat tightened and the professor looked at you. He didn’t say anything to reveal your reasoning, which you were glad for. Moody scoffed, unimpressed, but Dumbledore continued, unyielding.

“Their heart,” he murmured, “has long been spoken for. And so has their cause. They stay, and there should not be any hostility towards them till the end. We are all striving for the same things, aren't we, Mad-Eye?”

Moody scowled and layed back into his seat, the chair creaking with his weight. “Just trying to push for some real information, that’s all. There are lives at stake here.”

The room fell silent once again, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the hearth. The weight of the conversation settled in, and the tension was palpable. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, your pulse quickening as you prepared for the inevitable.

This time, James broke the silence, his voice gentle but steady. “We know you’re doing everything you can, bunny. It’s just that we need to be prepared for anything. If Voldemort is truly planning something large scale, we can’t afford to miss any small detail.” He looked at you kindly, as though trying to reassure you that your efforts were appreciated, but you knew better.

You had already seen the way the others looked at you when you weren’t around- the way their eyes would linger on your forearm, the questions left unsaid. They didn’t trust you, not fully, and every time you returned from a Death Eater meeting, you could feel that doubt seeping into the air like a fog. But it wasn’t just them who were watching you.

Regulus was too, somewhere in the cold howl of the winds.

And you hated how much you cared.

The moment Dumbledore dismissed you all, you took the chance to hurry into a quiet room, feeling suffocated in Moody's presence.

Of course, Sirius was pacing in the tea room, just as you expected. He had snuck out when the discussion got too dark, too personal. He’s leaning against the mantle of the fireplace, fingers gripping the edge like he was bracing himself. The fire casted long shadows across his face, deepening the creases of frustration, exhaustion, and something else, agony?

He didn't turn around when he spoke. “You saw him,” Sirius said, his voice quieter than you expected. “Regulus. Didn’t you?”

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your tired face. “Sirius, I-”

“Don’t,” he cut in sharply. “Don’t lie to me. I know you did.” He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Regulus was there, wasn’t he? And the way Dumbledore looked at you, he's the reason why you're doing this, aren't you?”

You hesitated, but there’s no point in denying it. “Yes.” Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in days. Maybe he hasn’t. His grip tightened around an ornament by the fireplace, and for a second, you thought he might throw it into the fire. But he didn't. He just stared at the flames as though they held all the answers.

“Tell me,” he says after a moment, voice rough. “How was he.” His words came out more of a statement than a question. You swallow, your mind replaying the events of your last encounter with the youngest black under the moonlight. The contrasting demeanor of Regulus leaning against the tree compared to the stoic and aristocratic look at the manor.

“He’s… troubled,” you admitted carefully. “Not like the rest of them.”

Sirius let out a humorless laugh. “Of course, he’s troubled. He was always troubled, different. Always better than the rest of them lots, even when he refused to see it.” He shook his head, jaw tightening. “But that didn’t stop him from taking the Mark, did it?”

You frowned, unsure of how much to say. You know Sirius didn't want to hear excuses for Regulus, but he deserved the truth. “He’s going through things, Sirius.”

“Is that so?,” Sirius scoffed, spitting the word like it’s venom. “Being conflicted isn’t enough. Being conflicted won’t save him, and it sure as hell won’t save you.”

The raw anger in his voice startled you. He slammed the trinket down on the table, the glass echoing through the room. His fingers twitched like he wanted to grip something firmer, anything to ground himself. Instead, he pressed them against his temples.

“Merlin, I should’ve seen it coming,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I should have- ” He stops himself, exhaling sharply. His gaze meets yours, intense and searching. “He spoke to you, didn’t he? What did he say?”

You take a slow breath. “He asked if I was safe.”

Sirius blinks, his expression shifting into something unreadable. “Safe?” he repeats.

You nod. “He said he’s keeping an eye on me. That the others… that they don’t fully trust me yet, but he’s making sure they don’t act on it.”

Sirius curses under his breath. He stands up suddenly, pacing in front of the fire, his hands tugging at his already disheveled hair.

The next evening, after another exhausting meeting, you found yourself walking the Grounds of the Burrow, the weight of your own lies pressing on your chest like a thousand pound stone. You had been so careful, so meticulous in keeping your loyalties hidden from the members of the Order, but Regulus… he knew something.

You hadn’t spoken to him since your midnight encounter weeks ago, not directly, but his eyes followed you whenever you were in the same room. There was something in the way he looked at you- something that made you question everything. You couldn’t let him see through you. Not now. Not when everything was still crumbling.

As you walked further away from the cottage towards the neighbouring forest, you froze. There, standing by a tree once again, was Regulus. He had been watching the stars, as though waiting for someone or something to speak to him. And there, beneath the dim light of the lanterns, you saw it, the familiar soft glint of emotion in his eyes.

Your heart fluttered, but you quickly steadied yourself. “Regulus,” you said, your voice low. “You can't be here”

He turned toward you, the flicker of recognition dancing in his gaze, followed quickly by a cool indifference. “I needed to get away for fresh air.” He glanced over at the house, where the Order had gathered only moments ago. “Things are getting more complicated, aren’t they?”

You swallowed hard, fighting the sudden wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm you. “Yes. It’s… harder than I imagined it would be.”

He said nothing at first, just looked at you with those grey eyes, filled with questions that you didn’t want to answer. Then, quietly, he spoke again. “I’ve been thinking about you.” His voice was low, almost hesitant. “About us.”

You froze, the air thick between you both. “Regulus, you know we can’t…”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his tone sharp, but there was an edge of something softer in it. “Don’t pretend like we don’t both know what’s happening here.”

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat. “What do you mean?” You already knew the answer, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it.

His gaze never wavered. “You’ve chosen your side. I’ve chosen my side. But you don't have a flying idea on what you stand for, don't you, Y/N?”

A silence stretched between you, each of you lost in your own thoughts, the burden of the war weighing on you both. He knew that your loyalties didn't fully stand with any side.

And then, his voice softer than you expected, Regulus added, “I’m glad you chose you are doing what you think is right, even if it means danger, even if it means we can’t be together. I respect that. But I can’t help feeling…” He paused, his voice breaking slightly. “That the past haunts me like blood tainting water of what could have been and how much I fucked all of this up.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “We can’t go back, Regulus,” you whispered, the words tearing themselves from your heart. “We can’t undo everything that has already unfolded.”

He nodded, the distant look in his eyes betraying a deep sorrow. “No. But maybe we never could have, even before this war started.”

With a final glance, Regulus turned away and walked out into the night. The soft clink of apparition echoed in your ears, but it didn’t make you feel any better.

The weight of your choices pressed on you harder than ever. You never spoke about that night again.

But something shifted.

Regulus sought you out more often, his presence lingering just a little longer than necessary. His eyes always seemed to find yours across a room, his shoulder ghosting you too close when he passed by.

And in those quiet moments, when the war faded into the background, you almost allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a future where you could both be free.

But the war did not wait for love.

The days that followed were a blur of tension, planning, and constant surveillance. Voldemort’s forces were growing stronger, and you could feel the storm coming. The final battle was fast approaching, and everything you had been working toward was about to culminate in a confrontation that would change the world forever.

You knew it, and so did the others. There was no going back.

But with every passing day, the questions lingered in your mind. Could you truly defeat the darkness, or would it consume you before the end?

And would you ever be able to reconcile the person you had become with the person you had once loved?

And freedom always came at a price.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft hum of the wind outside and the gentle crackling of the fire in the hearth. The smell of freshly baked bread lingered in the air, but it did little to soothe the restlessness that churned within you. Your mind was still caught in the forest, still tangled in the encounter with Regulus. The weight of those last words, the brief glimpses of the person he might have been, clung to you like a second skin, suffocating in its intensity.

You hadn’t meant to stay in the forest as long as you had. But how could you leave? How could you walk away from the shadow of the boy you had once loved- no, the boy he had become- and not try to understand it all? The answers, or perhaps the lack of them, gnawed at your insides, twisting and turning. The wound that had never fully healed had reopened, raw and bleeding once more.

You weren’t sure how long you had been standing by the window when the door to the kitchen creaked open. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Dumbledore’s presence filled the room in a way nothing else could. It was not imposing, not overbearing, but it was a presence that invited reflection, that made you confront what you weren’t ready to face.

He stood there for a long moment, silently watching you. You didn’t move, didn’t speak. It wasn’t as if you had to explain. He already knew.

“You spoke with him, didn’t you?” His voice was soft, yet it held a weight that pressed against your chest.

You didn’t have to look at him to know he understood more than you were willing to admit. You nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly, but it was enough.

“I did,” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “He was… different. But not. He’s not the same person. And yet, there’s something there, still. Something I can’t quite put my mind on.”

Dumbledore moved quietly, settling himself into the chair across from you, his eyes never leaving you. The years of unfortunate events had left their marks on him- etched into the lines of his face, the heaviness in his gaze. Yet, somehow, in all that he had seen, he still had the ability to see people, to understand them. You could feel his understanding settling over you like a blanket. He didn’t rush you. He never did.

“Regulus Black,” Dumbledore began, his voice calm and measured, “was a young man who was born into a family that demanded loyalty to a cause- a cause that, for all its promises, led to destruction and darkness. But even in that, there was always more to Mr. Black than what the world saw. And perhaps, even more than what he saw in himself.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words press against your chest. “But how could he… how could he choose that life? How could he leave me, leave us, behind for the sake of those ideals? After everything? We could have saved him like Sirius, but we didn't. Why didn't we save him?”

Dumbledore’s gaze softened, and for a moment, there was a deep sadness in his eyes. It was as though he had known Regulus in a way you never could have, had seen the conflict inside him before anyone else.

“He was a sole heir, caught between two worlds,” Dumbledore said gently. “The world he was born into and the one he could have made for himself. He was young, filled with potential, yet constantly torn between love and duty, between light and darkness. His choices were not the ones he had hoped for. But Regulus never truly understood the power of his own heart until it was too late.”

The tears that had been threatening to spill now burned at the back of your eyes. You wiped them away angrily, feeling the sting of it all. “But why didn’t he come to me?” Your voice cracked as you spoke the words. “Why didn’t he trust me? I could’ve helped him. We could have… I could have made him see.”

Dumbledore’s eyes softened even further, and he leaned back slightly, folding his hands on the table between you both. The firelight flickered across his face, casting shadows that made him look even older than he was. The weight of years carried in his voice when he spoke again.

“Regulus never thought he was worthy of redemption,” he said quietly. “That is the tragedy of his life. He did not believe he could be saved-not by you, not by anyone. He was lost in the idea that his mistakes, his loyalties, were too great a burden for anyone to bear. And so, he chose the only path he thought was left to him. The path that led him to a final act of courage, one that many would never understand.”

You stared at him, the words sinking into you like stones in water, heavy and deep. “So you think he was trying to do the right thing? That he wasn’t just… lost to the darkness?”

Dumbledore’s gaze never wavered. “He was lost, yes. But he was also trying to find a way out. His actions, in the end, speak to a part of him that was still fighting. He may have chosen a dangerous path, one that led him further away from the light, but in the end, he sought to make amends in the only way he knew how.”

A quiet sob escaped you then, unbidden, as you leaned forward, your head resting in your hands. The grief, the helplessness, the confusion- it all came rushing back at once, too much for you to bear.

Dumbledore’s voice was low and comforting, a steady anchor in the chaos. “He never wanted to bring you into that world, my dear. Not out of a lack of love, but out of a desire to protect you from the choices he had already made. He thought that by staying away, he was sparing you the darkness that had already taken root in him.”

You looked up at him, your face flushed with tears. “But it doesn’t make sense. Why did he have to choose that path? Why couldn’t he have stayed? Why couldn’t he have fought it longer, with me?”

Dumbledore’s expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite read. “The things we think we can control often turn out to be far beyond us. Regulus believed in his duty, in his family, in the idea that he had to atone for his past. But what he didn’t realize, what many people fail to see, is that redemption is not something we earn by suffering alone. It is something we find in our willingness to change, in our willingness to accept the love we are offered- even when we feel unworthy of it.”

His words lingered in the air, and for a moment, the kitchen was still. The crackling fire, the storm outside, the weight of the conversation-all of it seemed suspended in time.

You sat in silence, feeling the loss in a way that no words could ever capture. Regulus was gone. And though you understood, on some level, why he had made the choices he had, it didn’t make it any easier to accept. You still felt the sharp sting of his absence, the hollow space he had left in your heart.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke again, his voice quiet but firm.

“You cannot carry his burden forever, my dear,” he said softly. “You must let go of the weight of his choices, just as he did, in the end. His path was his own to walk, and while you may always remember him- both the boy you loved and the man he became- you cannot continue to live in the shadows of what was lost.”

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy but your thoughts a little clearer. It wouldn’t be easy. It would never be easy. But somehow, for the first time in what felt like forever, you understood. Regulus’s journey had ended, and now, so must yours.

The silence lingered, but it wasn’t the same as before. There was something lighter in the room now, something that had shifted in you. Not closure, not healing- but an understanding that you would carry forward, even in the face of loss.

Dumbledore stood then, his gaze warm but distant, as though he too understood that this was a moment that couldn’t be rushed. He gave you a small, knowing smile before turning toward the door.

“Take your time, my dear,” he said as he left, his voice fading as the door closed behind him. “Regulus’s story is not yet over, not in the ways that matter most.”

And in the quiet that followed, you found yourself alone again, but somehow less so than before.

It rained the night Regulus came to you.

Dublin was cold this time of year, the streets slick with ice, the sky an endless expanse of black. The city was restless, people scurrying home, avoiding eye contact, wrapped in thick coats as if wool and leather could ward off the war. The war is everywhere now, stubbornly stuck in every little crevice. In the missing posters on lampposts, in the hushed conversations in dimly lit pubs, in the way no one lingered outside after sun. You were ordered to stay low, 'hiding' or rather waiting for the doom to greet you at the front door. You were cooped up, only ever leaving the quaint little house to report to the order, or to join another brutal meeting amongst the death eaters.

And yet, your isolation was disturbed. Regulus Black stood on your doorstep, rain dripping from his hair, a strange sort of calm settling over his sharp features.

You almost didn't recognize him at first.

He looked different. Not in the way time changes people, but in the way loss did. His face was thinner, his skin paler. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, shadows that weren’t there before. He looked like a ghost, merely a shell of a person who once was, like a boy standing at the edge of something he knew he won’t return from.

And realization dawned upon you, this was a farewell.

“Regulus.” You breathed out, voice trembling as you racked your eyes up and down his body.

He mustered a small smile and exhaled softly. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated for only a second before stepping aside.

He moved past you, silent as ever, his presence filling the small, cluttered rooms. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering light across the wooden floors. Books were stacked haphazardly on the table, parchment littered with notes and strategies. An untouched cup of tea sat by the window, long gone cold.

You closed the door. “I thought you were in London.”

He looked around your quaint living room absentmindedly. “I was.”

You crossed your arms, watching him. “Then why are you here?”

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he moved toward the fireplace, holding out his hands to the warmth like he’s trying to thaw something frozen inside him. His fingers twitched slightly. You didn't think he realizes it.

At once, he said, “I need your help.”

Your stomach twisted. Regulus had never asked for help. Not from Barty, not from Evan, hell, even not from Pandora.

“What kind of help?” you asked cautiously.

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “I need to know if I can trust you.”

A pause. Your heart clenches. “You know you can.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, he didn't speak, and you thought, maybe, he was second guessing this. But then, carefully, deliberately, he reached into his robes and pulled out something small, something silver.

A locket.

The moment it catches the firelight, you feel it. A pulse, dark and wrong, curling through the air like smoke.

You take a step back. “Regulus.”

“I found it,” he says simply. Your mouth goes dry. “You stole it.”

A flicker of something in his expression. “Yes.”

You stare at the locket, at the way his fingers tighten around it. The implications settle over you like a weight, pressing against your ribs, making it hard to breathe.

“Is it what I think it is?” you whisper.

Regulus doesn’t blink. “Yes.”

The world outside feels impossibly still.

You didn't ask how he found it. You didn't ask how he got it, how he escaped, how he was standing here, alive, when he shouldn’t have been. Instead, you whispered the only thing you can manage.

“Reg-”

“I need to destroy it.”

You inhaled sharply. His voice was steady, but there’s something behind it. Something fragile. He stepped forward, closer now, the locket dangling between you, heavy with its terrible secret. “I thought- maybe- you’d know how.”

Your mind raced. This was real, he was about to sacrifice himself for a useless object.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” you whisper.

Regulus tilted his head, something bitter curling at the corner of his mouth. “Yes.”

You shook your head, trying to make sense of it. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Since our last conversation.”

Your heart sank. He has been planning this for merely three moons, and somehow, he got out still standing. “Does anyone else know?”

He hesitated. “Kreacher.”

Of course. The Blacks and their house-elves. Their twisted sense of loyalty, of servitude, of obedience. Kreacher, who had likely been forced to follow Regulus into whatever hell he’d walked into.

You swallow. “And Sirius?”

Regulus flinches. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but you see it. “No.”

The word is quiet, clipped. Final. Something inside you aches. “You should tell him.”

Regulus exhales, running a hand through his damp hair. “I can’t.” You step closer. “You can.”

“No, I-” He exhales sharply, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “He wouldn’t listen. He never listened to me.”

Your jaw tightens. You thought back to the conversation you shared with him at the burrow, how his gaze held so much pain for his younger brother. “That’s not true.”

Regulus laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “You didn’t grow up with him.”

You frown. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

Regulus looked away. His fingers trace the edge of the locket absently, a nervous habit, as if he’s anchoring himself to something tangible. “It’s better if he doesn’t know.”

“That’s not your choice to make.”

“It is,” he says softly.

And you know, in that moment, that nothing you say will change his mind.

Regulus Black has always been quiet. A boy of careful words, of hidden thoughts, of silent wars no one else could see. But here, now, in the dim glow of a dying fire, he is louder than he has ever been.

You exhale shakily. “What happens now?”

He looks down at the locket, at the way it gleams against his pale skin. “I finish what I started.”

“And if it kills you?”

Regulus lifts his gaze, and for the first time in a long time, you see something like peace in his eyes.

“Then at least I did something that mattered.”

Your throat tightens. “Reg-”

He steps forward, pressing the locket and a parchment into your palm. His hands are cold. “If anything happens, you keep this safe. This is all the information I gathered on all the other horcruxes and where they could lay. Do not show it to anyone, do not let anyone see your mind.”

You stare at him, at the boy who was supposed to live a life of privilege and power, at the boy who was supposed to be untouchable.

At the boy who was never supposed to be a hero.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whisper.

Regulus’ smile is small, tired. “I think you already have, mon Chèri.”

The fire flickers. The rain beats against the windows.

And when you blink, he is gone.

They never find his body.

The war swallows people whole, chews them up, spits them out as names on a list of casualties. Regulus Black is just another name. Another headline. Another tragic waste.

People don’t ask questions. You don’t speak of him. Not to Sirius, not to the Order, not to anyone.

But sometimes, on quiet nights, you swear you see him.

A shadow in the corner of your vision, a figure disappearing into the dark. A whisper in the wind, a presence in the silence, a name that lingers on the tip of your tongue. And when you close your eyes, you can still feel the ghost of his touch, the warmth of his breath, the weight of the words he never said.

You don’t know if it’s wishful thinking.

Or something more.

You wonder if maybe, somewhere, there is a boy walking alone in the dark, free from the name that once weighed him down.

And you wonder if, somewhere out there, Regulus Black is still running.

And you wonder if he ever looks back.

[agreeewrites]

i would love to see 1000 secrets with barty crouch or regulus 😏

combining this with another reg request!! I have one coming for Barty soon too dw 🫶

1000 secret kisses | R.B.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut mentioned, secret relationships, fwb, drinkin

masterlist

Alright, Barty. Truth, dare, or shot,” Dorcas said, still coughing after the gulp of firewhisky she just took.

“Truth,” Barty replied.

“What's your most controversial opinion about someone in the group?” Dorcas challenged, and everyone ooooh’d.

Barty took a contemplative drag of his joint, then—“I would bet my left nut that Regulus is a virgin,” Barty said through a cloud of smoke.

“No way, look at him!” Pandora argued. “He fucks, guarantee it.”

The groups heads swiveled to Regulus, who was reclined lazily in arm chair, knees spread, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. He looked supremely fuckable to you, like he always did.

That's why you've been secret friends with benefits for most of the school year.

You and Regulus were an unlikely pair; Reg, a certified grouch with a distaste for socializing, and you, a gifted student and natural flirt. But you found him fascinating, deeply intelligent and perceptive, with an artistic heart, even if he preferred not to show it. And he found you endearing, infectious in your enthusiasm.

You'd kissed him after a drunken night in Hogsmeade, and he'd sought you out the following day in the library. Now, you snuck away every chance you got, stealing secret moments around every corner, in every classroom, praying your friends never discovered the truth, lest you never hear the end of it.

This was just for the two of you, and you preferred it that way.

“I'm not saying he isn't sexy!” Barty argued. “I'm saying he couldn't be bothered to fuck someone, too busy reading poetry and glaring.”

“And you expect me to, what? Fuck everything with legs like you, Junior?” Regulus bit back.

“No, but like—I’ve never even seen you glance at someone,” Evan chimed in. “You've never talked about fancying someone, or gotten flustered.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

“Nothing shakes him, and he'd never tell you half-wits if he fancied someone because you can't keep your mouths shut,” Xeno laughed.

“It's not like it's anyone's business anyways,” you added, stealing the joint from Barty and taking a puff. “It's his business who he does, or doesn't, fuck.”

“Oh, come off it. He hasn't even had a crush on you, and we've all had a crush on you,” Barty said.

You nearly choked on your hit. “You're full of shit, Junior.”

“It's true! We talked about it the other day!”

You risked a glance at Regulus while you fanned the smoke from around your face, and found him glaring down at his lap, his expression was calm, but you'd long ago learned to judge his true feelings by his pale eyes. And right now, the hostility in them could raze the castle.

That must have been the day he abruptly dragged you from your dorm and into an empty classroom. He toyed with you until you cried, begging him to get you off. And when he finally let you ride him, you weren't allowed to come until you told him exactly who you belonged to. Making you spell out his entire name, letter by letter, thrust by thrust.

Regulus Arcturus Black.

Your pussy shivered just thinking about it.

“Can we get on with the game, please?” Pandora huffed. “It's y/n’s turn.”

Barry grinned over at you, and you groaned. Why on Salazar's shitty earth did you think it was a good idea to sit next to him?

“Truth, dare, or shot, my darling?” Barty asked, his voice a seductive purr.

You really didn't want to take a shot of that lukewarm swill, and you had a hunch of what Barty's question would be: do you fancy any of us? Leaving you with one option.

“Dare.”

Barty’s eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together like a supervillain. “You've made a grave error, my dearest y/n.”

“Don't be an ass, Crouch. Play fair,” Regulus warned, the edge of his voice sharper than was probably necessary.

“Oh, you'll like this Reggie, don't worry.” Barty presented his palms to you, like he was offering a gift. “Treasure, I dare you to make Regulus blush.”

“That's not fair!” Pandora argued. “How is she supposed to do that?”

“By any means necessary.” Barty grinned.

You looked at Regulus, who was already looking at you. “I don't want to cross any lines—”

“And when she fails?” Regulus asked, a hint of a smirk on his pretty mouth. Baiting you.

“Then she takes two shots,” Barty wagered.

You looked back and forth between them, all eyes on you. “Deal,” you said, pushing to your feet.

Regulus' eyes widened a fraction, like he didn't expect you to actually go for it, but he vastly underestimated your pettiness. And you would love nothing more than to be the thing that made Regulus finally crack in front of his friends. A tiny consultation for months of keeping secrets.

You sashayed over to him, ignoring the whistles and shouts from your friends, focused entirely on Regulus' smug face. His eyes roamed over you, lingering at the edge of your skirt, the sway of your hips, and you caught the unmistakable sign of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and his arrogant expression faltered.

Already, you were making him sweat.

You knew none of your regular tricks would work on him, he was impervious to flirting, but you had an ace up your sleeve.

Carefully, you perched on the arm of his chair, being mindful to not actually touch him, knowing it would bother him to have you so close without being able to touch. He shifted a little in his seat, a fraction closer to you, fingers tightening on his cigarette.

You took a pull from the joint, filling your lungs with its acrid burn. You looked at Regulus expectantly, and he smirked before tilting his head back for you. You leaned in and he parted his lips, letting you blow the smoke into his mouth.

Your friends continued to whoop and cheer, but you focused on Regulus' proximity, the hazy feeling coarsing through your blood.

Merlin, you wanted to kiss him.

Instead, when the last of the smoke left your lungs and entered his, you shifted to whisper in his ear. “Took that hit so well, sweet boy,” you purred, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear.

You felt his body hitch, wanting to cough up the smoke, but he managed to blow it out of the corner of his mouth, casting you vicious side eye. To your delight, you noticed a delicate pink stain was crawling up his neck, warming the tops of his cheekbones.

“She did it!” Evan cheered, and the rest of the group roared in approval.

“Brat,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. You knew you'd be paying for it later, but it was so worth it to know you had an affect on him no one else did.

You sauntered back over to your seat, smiling ear to ear and basking in the groups praise.

Regulus tried to play it off, but there was no going back now. And you knew he was in trouble when it was finally his turn.

“Alright, Reggie,” Pandora said. “Truth, dare, or shot.”

You already knew what he would pick: Reg hated booze, and would rather run around the common room naked than fess up to something.

“Dare,” he said, taking a bold glance at you.

Pandora caught it, of course, and a tendril of uncertainty coiled in your stomach.

“I dare you to make y/n blush back.”

Regulus huffed a low laugh. “Come on, Dora. Give me a challenge.”

You glared at him, and he winked back. Maybe it was the weed, or his competitive nature, but you'd never seen him so brazen.

Everyone ooooh’d.

“Fine, I dare you to kiss one person in the circle!”

Your heart sunk. Even if it was platonic, a stupid dare, you didn't particularly want to see Regulus kiss someone else. Your feelings for Regulus has grown over the course of the your secret relationship, and while neither of you were ready for labels, that didn't mean you wanted to share him, or vice versa if the night in the classroom was any indication.

Regulus narrowed his eyes at her. “Not everyone consents to being kissed by me.”

“I consent!” They all chorused, and you inwardly groaned.

“What? You've never fucked and you've never kissed someone?” Barty teased, ramping up the pressure.

“Fuck off, Crouch,” Regulus hissed. The game was getting to him, and your friends were feasting on his rare display of discomfort.

You'd feel bad for him if you weren't feeling so sorry for yourself. Reg would probably kiss Barty just to shut him up, and then storm off to bed. Leaving you to decipher his words and actions like every night spent without him there to prove his affection with his hands and mouth.

Shit, maybe this arrangement had gotten more out of control than you realized.

“How the fuck is Sirius such a lady-killer, and his little brother is the virgin fuckin’ Mary?” Barty was too busy laughing at his own jokes to notice Regulus get up and prowl across the circle towards him.

Barty finally noticed when Reg was almost on top of him, but at the last second, Regulus pivoted. His hand shot out to grab you by the hair, roughly tilting your head back for the bruising kiss he planted on your unsuspecting lips.

You squeaked in surprise, but quickly gave way for him, melting under his firm, insistent mouth as his tongue delved between your teeth to taste you.

As quickly as he swept in, he was gone, leaving you wide eyed and breathless as he stalked back to his seat and dropped into it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What was it you said? ‘Y/n has the most gorgeous mouth you'd ever seen’?” Regulus said, a mocking edge in his voice. “That you'd ‘give anything to taste her'?”

Barty gaped like a fish.

Regulus smirked. “I’ll have that left bollock now. And I'll take the other one if I hear my girl’s name on your mouth again, you prick.”

Everyone gasped, including you, but Regulus didn't even flinch.

“Understood?” He glared at Barty, then the others, until each one of them lowered their eyes in submission.

Regulus beckoned you forward with two fingers and you jumped up, crossing the space between you and allowing him to pull you into his lap. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for another kiss, little more than a peck, but it still made your head spin.

“So, secrets out?” You asked, meeting his eyes.

Regulus shrugged, pecking your cheek. “It doesn't change anything,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’m yours.” He kissed your nose, your temple, your lips, down your neck, until all of your friends dispersed, making disgusted noises as they fled such a public display of affection.

But you couldn't be happier, grinning like a fool as you basked in a thousand not-so-secret kisses.

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[uramakimochi]

hihihi babe i don’t know if you’re accepting requests but im love love loving the wolf star parents fics!!!! i was wondering if you might be able to write about everyone when r gets her first boyfriend or goes on her first date?? totally get it if not im just wondering babe!!!

HIII I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS^^ IT WAS FUN WRITING THE FIRST PART OF THIS FIC BUT I'M NOT SO PROUD OF THE REST SO I JUST HOPE YOU LIKE IT🩷

MEETING THE FAMILY

Wolfstar x daughter!Reader

Fred Weasley x Reader (i know, everyone always writes with him i'm sorry, but it just fits for the plot)

James Potter, Regulus Black & Barty Crouch Jr x Reader (platonic)

WARNINGS: this is just a crack fic lol, FEM!R + some use of Y/n, your Hogwarts house is not specified, Sirius and James being dramatic, Regulus and Barty being Slytherin threats, Remus being the most normal and Y/n being so done with her family. Maybe Fred is a little ooc? Idk.

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

"SHE HAS A WHAT?!"

Remus jumped when he heard Sirius' voice shouting from the living room, but before he could even ask him the reason for the shouting, he heard footsteps approaching him at a run, until Sirius' figure appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND! OUR DAUGHTER HAS A BOYFRIEND!" Sirius yelled with wide eyes and Remus noticed the letter he was clutching in his hand. "AND I KNEW NOTHING ABOUT IT!!"

Remus rolled his eyes and went back to cooking lunch as if nothing had happened.

"Try asking yourself why she didn't tell you anything..." he murmured with a smirk.

"Ha ha ha, funny babe, really funny" Sirius retorted with a grimace. "Why doesn't that upset you??"

Remus shrugged.

"She's 15 Sirius, it's normal at that age to find a boyfriend. Don't be dramatic"

"It's Fred Weasley"

Remus dropped the spoon on the kitchen counter and slowly turned to face him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"So...Fred Weasley?"

You groaned, not looking up from your book when you heard Harry's voice behind your ear.

"Yes, Harry. Fred Weasley. Is there any problem about that?" you asked, turning the page.

Harry sat next to you on the bench at one of the four tables in the Great Hall. Strangely enough, Ron and Hermione weren't with him, but you knew that sooner or later they would join too.

"Honestly? You're practically my sister and it feels weird to know that you're dating someone" he said and you smiled in amusement. "Especially someone like Fred Weasley"

"And what does that mean?" you asked again, finally turning to look at him.

Harry shrugged without saying anything and you sighed.

"Look, Fred is your friend Harry, you know him. You should be glad i'm not dating Malfoy" you said and Harry made a disgusted face. "And then..."

You couldn't help the small sigh that left your lips as your eyes landed on Fred's figure, who was sitting at the table across from yours. As if he felt your gaze on him, at a certain point he too raised his eyes from his breakfast and met yours. He flashed you a smile and waved at you before giving you one of his winks that gave you butterflies in your stomach. You shyly waved back and Harry could perfectly see in your eyes all the love you felt for him.

"He's always sweet to me. He always makes me laugh" you said. "And he also gives me a lot of gifts"

Harry smiled slightly.

"How long have you been together?" he asked you.

Fred went back to chatting with George and Lee and you looked back at your best friend.

"For a while. We kept it under wraps at first because we wanted to make sure it was an official thing. We didn't want to spread false rumors, you know what i mean?" you said and Harry nodded. "You know, i invited him home for the holidays, to let him meet my parents"

Harry's eyes widened.

"He's going to meet Sirius and Remus??" he asked shocked and you giggled. "And you're not afraid of their reaction?"

You shrugged, closing your book and reaching for some toast. "Dad's usually the calm one, so it doesn't worry me. It's Sirius i'm worried about. You know how he is, he's very..."

"Dramatic" you chorused with amused smiles.

You began to eat your toast, until Ron and Hermione also joined you at the table and sat down across from you, starting a new conversation.

Remus and Sirius had taken it well... More or less.

"WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME THAT YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND?!"

"YOU ARE DATING FRED WEASLEY?!"

You jumped as you heard your parents' voices ringing in the living room. As you had told Harry, Remus was the less dramatic of the two, but he was still shocked that you were dating Fred Weasley.

"Dads…" you murmured, running a hand over your face.

"Darling i thought you liked Neville, i mean you're so alike! Or Harry! Or even a girl!" Remus exclaimed. "But one of the twins..."

"Harry and Neville are my friends, i never liked them that way" you retorted with hot cheeks. "And i don't like girls"

Sirius dropped dramatically into his chair. Typical of Sirius.

"My sweet little girl is going out with that rascal of Fred Weasley..." he murmured, covering his face with his hands. "Why couldn't you like Charlie or Bill?"

"I don't know Bill and Charlie and they are too old for me"

Remus pointed a finger at you. "Correct answer"

You groaned and crossed your arms.

"Look, i'm going to tell you both the same thing i told Harry. For your information, Fred is very sweet and kind to me and i care about him. A lot. So i'd like you to be nice to him the day he comes here, okay?"

"Ugh, does he really have to come to our house?" Sirius muttered, looking at you from behind his fingers.

"Do i really have to cook for him?" Remus asked back.

You rolled your eyes and went up to your room, ignoring their calls.

The day finally came when Fred would come to meet your parents. When you heard the front door bell you ran down the stairs from your room.

"He's here! Are you ready??" you asked frantically, looking at your fathers.

Remus glanced at his watch.

"I'm surprised he arrived even early" he murmured in confusion.

You walked towards the front door with an excited smile, but Sirius passed you.

"I'll open it!"

Your eyes widened and you immediately chased after him. "No! Dad!"

Just before Sirius could open the door, you glued yourself to his body, trying to drag him away.

"Let me go!" he exclaimed, trying to make you detach from his body.

"No!" you retorted, wrapping your arms around his waist. "You'll make him run away!"

"I just want to say hi, i swear!"

You turned your head towards the direction of the living room.

"Daaad!" you exclaimed, hoping that Remus would talk some sense into him.

"Sirius" came Remus' calm voice. "Come here, don't be a baby"

But before Sirius could protest, the door opened on his own and you and Sirius froze. But it wasn't Fred. It was...

"Uncle James?"

James flashed you a bright smile as your arms slowly loosened from around Sirius' body. The two men exchanged a high five and James looked at him worriedly.

"Am i late? Has he arrived yet?" he asked and you looked at him confused.

"Who?"

James turned to look at you with an obvious expression. "Your boyfriend, sweetheart. Of course!"

"Of course?"

"Of course! Harry told me that you are dating Fred Weasley and of course, as your favorite uncle, i absolutely want to meet him!"

Your eyes widened, while in your head you were already devising a plan to kill Harry the snitch without ending up in Azkaban. You turned to look at your father in shock.

"Did you tell him to come??" you asked.

Sirius shook his head with a smirk and raised his hands. "Your father and i have nothing to do with this, darling. I swear"

"Oh my god…" you muttered, turning to walk back into the living room. "Oh Salazar..."

Now you were panicking. You knew nothing about it, Fred knew nothing about it! What would he have thought if he had seen James too? Maybe he would have thought that you lived in a family of overprotective dramatic crazy relatives and he would have been scared and wouldn't want to deal with you anymore and-

The fireplace in the living room suddenly lit up and the green flames blazed for a few seconds until a person came out of them and you and Remus, who was sitting on the couch, opened your eyes wide.

"Good evening chérie"

"Uncle Reg??"

Regulus gave you a small smile and in the meantime Sirius and James also joined you in the living room.

"Reggie!" your father exclaimed. "I didn't think you would actually come"

You quickly turned to look at Sirius, shocked again, while Regulus straightened out the folds of his clothes with his usual calm.

"If my niece has a boyfriend i want to personally make sure that he is a good person and not an idiot like-" Regulus replied, but was cut off.

The fireplace flared up again and another person jumped out of it less gracefully than the younger Black.

"Where is this little boyfriend? I want to see him right now!"

You almost fainted when you saw him.

"Uncle Barty?!"

He opened his arms wide, coming to hug you with a smile. "Oh my little viper, look at you. You're already bringing home your boyfriend, you're really growing up"

You didn't return the hug, still shocked by the presence of your uncles who had crashed at your house without warning. After a few seconds you silently backed away.

"Darling, are you okay?" Remus asked you, standing up from the couch and so everyone's attention was on you.

But you backed away and alternated your panicked eyes between your parents and your uncles, who were looking at you in confusion.

"No no no! I'm not okay at all!" you exclaimed nervously as you looked at Remus and then set your gaze on Regulus. "Uncle Reg, no offense but why are you here??"

Regulus didn't take offense at your words and remained calm as he took off his jacket to hang it on the coat rack.

"Sirius told me that this evening we were going to have a family dinner to meet that scoundrel who stole your heart, my dear. And i want to make sure he's not a criminal"

"It's the truth, i swear i only invited Regulus" Sirius continued, raising his arms in surrender, looking at you slightly sorry for the panic he had caused in you.

"Come on little viper" Barty then interjected, shooting you a smirk. "We all know that without me this evening would be boring. And if Reggie wants to meet your boyfriend, then i absolutely MUST meet him too"

You let out a loud sigh and ran a hand over your face desperately. Then you started walking back and forth along the living room carpet, muttering "What do i do now? What do i do??", while your relatives looked at you strangely.

"Honey-" James tried to say, taking a step towards you, but suddenly someone rang the doorbell again and you all froze. And when your parents and uncles were about to run to open the door, you blocked their path, opening your arms wide.

"Don't you-dare-open-that door!" you threatened them, looking at them one by one, and then lowering your tone of voice to make it more severe and threatening. "And i swear to Godric that if you scare him away i... I... I don't know but don't try, okay? Am i clear?"

Everyone nodded silently and you rushed towards the front door. You fixed your hair and took a deep breath, praying to the four founders that everything would be okay. Then you reached for the doorknob and opened the door, feeling your heart skip a beat when you saw Fred's bright smile.

"Hi" he said.

"H-Hey" you responded nervously.

"You look beautiful" he told you and you smiled embarrassed.

"So do you"

It was at that moment that your eyes fell on the small bouquet of flowers that Fred was holding in one hand and he noticed it too.

"Oh! Um..." he handed you the flowers. "These are for you. I hope you like them"

You took the flowers gently from his hands and felt your cheeks heat up.

"They're beautiful" you said, holding them close to your face to smell them. "Thank you"

Fred smiled and leaned forward to give you a small kiss on the lips and you let him. But you realized too late that perhaps you should have stopped him from doing so, because you next heard whispered voices coming from behind you.

"You little red-haired brat, how dare you kiss my daughter in my house?"

"Sirius!"

"He got her flowers though"

"Tch, that's the minimum don't you think?"

"Would you all shut up??"

You turned around and saw the heads of your parents and uncles peeking out from behind the wall stacked on top of each other, intent on spying on you. You gave them a murderous look and they walked away in fear, heading towards the dining room.

"Looks like we'll have some company" Fred chuckled nervously.

"Forgive me" you murmured, looking at him awkwardly. "It's just that my uncles are a little protective of me and when they heard you were coming to dinner they decided they wanted to meet you in person"

You let out another sigh, lowering your head to hide your face in the flowers. "I'm so sorry"

"Hey don't worry, it's no problem" your boyfriend reassured you, placing a hand on your cheek to lift your face. "I'm not scared of anyone. I'm ready to face any member of your family"

You smiled, rubbing your cheek against his palm. "Thank you Fred, i appreciate it. But if they cross the line i'll throw my broom at their head, i swear"

The tension was growing visibly in that room. You were afraid that the slightest mistake would cause all hell to break loose.

"So..." Barty said slowly, looking Fred straight in the eyes. "You're Gryffindor"

Sitting opposite you, Fred looked at you for a split second, then flashed a nervous smile at Junior who was sitting to your right. "Yes sir"

"Tch" Barty cackled arrogantly. "And i bet you're proud of it too, right?"

Both you and Regulus, sitting to your left next to Sirius at the head of the table, shook your heads with a sigh, while James, who was sitting across from Barty, next to Fred, gave him a small kick from under the table, mimicking a "Quit it!" with his lips.

"Forgive him" you interjected, looking at your boyfriend with apologetic eyes. "Uncle Barty does this with all Gryffindors, it's not you, really. He even hated my parents and Harry's when they were in first year haha"

Barty rolled his eyes and Remus, who was sitting on the other side of Sirius, smiled slightly and nodded in agreement with what you said as he continued to eat.

"It's no problem, i understand what he means" Fred replied, giving you a reassuring smile, then looking at Barty. "I'm very proud of my house. Just like you Slytherins, but also Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws"

Barty chewed his bite slowly and narrowed his eyes at him, knowing full well that the brat had the same distrust of him as Slytherin. But what he didn't know was that Fred only refrained from retorting because he was a member of your family and didn't want to make a bad impression and let you down.

"Fred" Regulus then interjected, with his usual calm and rational tone. "How old did you say you are?"

"I'm 17, sir. I'm in my last year of school"

At those words both Regulus and Barty froze as if they were two marble statues and both looked at him with icy eyes.

'Crap' you thought.

In fact, your parents and James already knew Fred, as he was Molly and Arthur's son and Harry's friend, but Regulus and Barty didn't even know how old he was.

"Oh" Regulus said, slowly. "You're older than my niece. I didn't know that"

"Only by two years Uncle Reg" you retorted, turning to your uncle and trying to smile at him. "There are couples who have a much larger age gap, this is not a problem"

"Of course honey, you're right" Sirius reassured you. "But you know how we are, if our little girl tells us she's going out with an older boy we get worried"

"I hope you're treating my little viper like a princess, Weasley" Barty said menacingly, pointing his fork at him. "You're both teenagers and teenagers like you, especially boys, do a lot of stupid things"

"I just hope you don't do what Junior did at your age..." James muttered, looking away. "In that case it would really be a problem"

You turned to give Remus a panicked look, begging him to help you. But before your father could order everyone to stop the interrogation, Fred put down his cutlery and stood up.

"With your permission" he said, causing everyone to fall silent. "I would like to say a couple of things too"

Barty crossed his arms and sank back into his chair as Regulus wiped his mouth with his napkin, looking at him sternly. James and Remus stared at him patiently, while Sirius observed him from behind his glass of wine, which he was still sipping.

"I knew i would have to face Y/n's family sooner or later and that made me very nervous" Fred began, looking at them one by one. "But i won't be intimidated by any of you because i'm here to prove that i want to date her"

You felt your lips slowly curve upwards on their own and Remus and James smiled too.

"I am very, very in love with her and i always treat her with immense respect. Not like a princess, but rather like a queen" Fred continued, his eyes resting on Barty at that statement. "And both she and i can assure you that if i didn't do this, Harry who is her best friend, would've already sent me to the other world. But since it hasn't happened yet, then i think i'm doing a good job. And i honestly believe there are even worse people out there you should be worried about"

Then Fred looked back at you and you could see his red cheeks, which matched his hair, while on his lips he had what all his friends described as his usual lovesick smile.

"Yes i'm a troublemaker, but i would never hurt her and i always try to keep her out of trouble. I care about her a lot okay, and i consider myself the luckiest man in the world to know that this wonderful girl really feels the same. And i hope that all of you who are her family, don't spend the rest of your life hating me just because i'm in love with her"

He sat back at the table and everyone remained silent for a few good seconds. Your face felt like it was on fire and you didn't know what to say after everything Fred had said. You just knew that you had no doubts about the feelings you had for him.

Suddenly, someone sniffed and when you turned to look at who it was, you saw to your surprise that Sirius was wiping his napkin under his eyes.

"Siri, are you... Crying?" Regulus murmured, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. Sirius shook his head, looking at him with red eyes.

"O-Of course not! Do you think i'm going to cry over the romantic speech of a teenager in love with my daughter?? Absolutely not!" he retorted and then blew his nose.

Remus patted his shoulder and flashed you a smile, but then he noticed that James was also rubbing the palm of his hand over his eyes.

"Prongs, you too??"

James shook his head, looking at him with a pout. "I-I'm just crying because Sirius is crying, okay?? I'm very empathetic"

Barty grimaced.

"You're both disgusting, you're making me lose my appetite"

The two who were crying glared at him, while you and Fred exchanged an amused look.

"I say we all understand that your relationship is serious" Regulus then said with a small smile, alternating his gaze from you to Fred. "You're a good boy Fred Weasley so as far as i'm concerned, you have my approval" Fred smiled at him happily.

"Thank you Mr. Black, i really appreciate it"

"But..." the smile fell from Regulus' lips, and he looked your boyfriend straight in the eyes with an icy gaze. "If i find out that you made my niece suffer, i'll be happy to make you experience tortures you've never even heard of. I've done a lot of research, you know?"

Fred swallowed nervously.

"Uncle Reeeg…" you called back, making the man turn towards you.

"You know i'm joking, chérie" Regulus told you, changing his expression again to give you a small smile as if nothing had happened. "Let me scare him a little, that's what us Slytherin uncles are for, isn't it?"

James leaned towards Fred.

"He's just joking, don't worry" he murmured next to his ear. "Or at least i think... Just don't make him angry, okay? Regulus is scarier than Sirius, for your information"

Fred nodded fearfully, bringing the glass to his lips to take a sip of water to release the tension.

"Your kind words touched us Fred, especially Sirius here" Remus then said with a smile, nodding towards Sirius and continuing to hold his hand. "We're sorry if we were a little aggressive towards you. We were just worried about our daughter, you know?"

Fred nodded understandingly. "I understand. I would do the same if it were for my daughter. If i'll ever have one..."

"Hey!" Sirius said, pointing a finger at him. "Be careful with what you say, Weasley"

Fred looked down, making Remus and Regulus smile amusedly. You stretched out a foot under the table to touch his ankle and when Fred looked up at you you smiled sweetly at him, to let him know that he apparently succeeded in his aim of winning over your relatives. The worst was over and the evening would certainly continue for the better.

"Unbelievable..." Barty murmured, running his fork across his plate to play with his food absentmindedly. "One day my little viper comes home with her boyfriend and the next day she'll get married to him and the day after that we'll see our grandchildren with ginger hair running and screaming in the garden"

"JUNIOR!" "Uncle Barty!" you all exclaimed in unison.

"What?? What did i say??"

GUYS DO YOU THINK I SHOULD ADD EVAN TO THE SLYTHERIN UNCLES GANG?

[heaven4lostgirls]

regulus black scratches during sex

remus lupin bites during sex

and!!

sirius black screams during sex

james potter cries during sex

[dismalflo]

touch

poly!moonwater x reader who doesn't know how to ask for what they need ✩ 911 words

summary: Being comfortable in a new relationship is hard, especially when your unsure of how to ask for what you crave - touch.

cw: fluff, comfort, newly established relationship, touch starved reader

an: first poly!moonwater work because i love them ahh

You’re tucked into the corner of the sofa, a blanket draped over your legs, eyes aimed at the TV—but you’re not really watching. Not properly. Your mind keeps drifting, snagging on the narrow space between your foot and Regulus’ thigh. The few inches might as well be miles.

They’ve been together far longer than you’ve been in the picture. There’s a rhythm to the way they move around each other, a seamless, quiet understanding you haven’t quite caught up to. It’s not that they’re always physical with each other—they're both careful with touch—but when one of them reaches out, the other always seems to know how to meet them halfway. It's natural. Intuitive. And you can't help but feel a step behind.

You know it’ll come with time. That closeness. That ease. But right now, you’re stuck in your own head. You don’t know how to ask for what you need without sounding needy. You’re scared that wanting something so gentle—so simple—might come across as selfish. And worse: you’re terrified of how much it would hurt if they pulled away.

A soft shuffle pulls you from your thoughts. Remus enters the room carrying a plate of snacks, setting them on the table. If only he could hear the noise inside your head. But you don’t say anything. Can’t.

“Are you okay, dove?” Remus asks, voice low and gentle as his eyes land on you. They soften immediately. He sees you. “You look a bit pale.”

You nod automatically, not trusting your voice, and Regulus hums inquisitively before moving. His hand reaches for your forehead without hesitation, fingers cool against your skin. You freeze—not because you don’t want it, but because you want it too much. Your body stiffens, like you’re afraid any movement might scare him off.

He won’t pull away, you remind yourself. He’s your boyfriend. He loves you. They both do. But the fear still lingers, soft and persistent.

When his touch finally lands, it’s grounding. Your shoulders sag under the weight of relief, tension uncoiling from your spine. Regulus’ brows draw together, concern written across his sharp features as he glances toward Remus, silently asking is something wrong?

Remus catches your eye again, and you flush under the attention. Your face burns, caught in that spotlight of care.

“Come here, lovely,” Remus says gently, rising from the chair he’d just settled into. The offer is quiet, but it opens a door.

You don’t think—you just go.

He gathers you into his arms the second you reach him, pulling you in without question. His embrace is warm and steady, and the moment your body touches his, something inside you clicks into place. You hold on tight, fingers curling into the back of his jumper like you might fall apart if you don’t.

“Hmm,” Remus hums, mostly to himself. “Thought so.” He kisses your forehead softly, his lips lingering for a beat longer than necessary.

Regulus, watching from the couch, tilts his head. He’s catching on too. “Have we not been giving you enough attention, amour?” he asks, voice laced with both concern and a teasing edge. Not mocking—never mocking—just wanting to make it easier to answer.

You shake your head too quickly. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…” The words stick in your throat, fragile and knotted.

Remus gently tilts your chin up, coaxing your gaze to his. “Just what, darling?”

You exhale, shaky and small. “I know you don’t always want touch. And I don’t want to ask if it’s not… something you want.”

Regulus doesn’t hesitate. “We like it when it’s with you.” His voice is firm, steady—like it’s the most obvious truth in the world. “You don’t have to question that.”

Your breath catches at the certainty in his voice. You glance between them, finding nothing but softness and love in their expressions.

“You never have to be afraid to ask for affection,” Remus says, brushing your hair gently from your face. “We want to know what you need, so we can give it to you.”

His hands cup your face then, holding you like you’re precious. Like you’re theirs.

“We want to love you the way you need to be loved,” he adds, and the words settle into the quiet places of your heart, chasing away the doubt that had nested there.

You nod slowly, your body growing heavier with the kind of relief that makes you feel lighter all at once.

Without needing to speak, Remus guides you back toward the sofa where Regulus waits, arms already open. You sink between them easily, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Remus presses a kiss to your temple, his lips warm and reassuring, while Regulus rests his chin on your head, one hand stroking your arm in gentle, soothing passes.

“Is this alright?” Remus murmurs, voice barely audible.

You nod, voice catching with emotion. “Yeah… it’s perfect.”

Regulus smiles against your hair. “Good,” he whispers, and you can feel the truth in it

The TV hums in the background, but none of you are really watching. You’re wrapped in their arms, surrounded by warmth and steady breaths and the kind of love that asks nothing but gives everything.

And when Regulus leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, and Remus rests his hand on your thigh in quiet comfort, it’s not about proving anything—it’s just them loving you, completely and deliberately, the way you never have to ask for again.

masterlist <3

[theyrealllesbians]

Obsessed with the idea that Remus uses all the marauders being animagi as blackmail.

Sirius catches Remus eating chocolate even though he is under strict instruction from Pomphrey to not eat it just to see if it makes his migraines go away. Remus immediately responds with "yeah, I suppose it is weird that I'm eating chocolate, Pads. But you know what would be weirder, Dumbledore finding out a black dog was in the Gryffindor common room last night?" Sirius doesn't utter a word.

James catches Remus studying the night before a moon, knowing it will make him tired and grumpy in the morning, making the moon even worse. "Moons. Go. To. Bed. I'll go get Sirius." He is stood there with his arms crossed and as stern of an expression as he can muster. "You go get Sirius and I'll tell Regulus you're a deer. Yeah, that's what I thought, now leave me to it Prongs, I'm fine."

Peter watches as Remus tries to get ready for classes, even though he has the worst cold their dorm has ever seen. "Remus, I swear to Merling, go back to bed, you idiot. You can't even walk straight, you are that ill!!!" In the most hoarse, scratchy voice ever, Remus just bites back a weak "I will report you to the ministry Peter, just you wait."

Remus knows it's never a comparable threat, but it works for him every time, so why would he stop?

[colouredbyd]

"If you look closely, you'll see them!"

Regulus Black x fem!reader

synopsis: you swear regulus has dimples but no one believes you, not until he walks in and finds you with his eyes. the room stills, and for a breathless moment, they begin to see what you always have.

warnings: pure fluff, mentions of cold deameanor, some mild language, grumpy x sunshine kinda?

w/c: 3k

a/n: my headcanon is that regulus is very much taller than sirius and he has dimples!!! i said what i said guys, argue with me !! also this has been in my drafts for a good 7 months </3

masterlist

"Regulus Black does not have dimples!"

Sirius declares for the third time that afternoon, sprawled across the common room sofa with his legs thrown carelessly over James’s lap, his voice carrying that unbothered arrogance he wielded like a second skin.

"You’re hallucinating."

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you stand firm before the Marauders, unyielding in your defiance. Mary is nestled against Remus’s shoulder, her eyes glimmering with barely-contained amusement as if she knows something the others don’t.

"I am not hallucinating," you retort, voice dripping with indignation, hands finding your hips in a stance that borders on stubbornness. "I’ve seen them! They’re right here."

You jab your own cheeks for emphasis, fingers pressing into the softness just beneath your eyes, and the room erupts into snorts and muffled laughter, your so-called friends delighting in your apparent delusion.

But you know the truth. You have seen them—the delicate crescents that carve themselves into his cheeks when he smiles in that unguarded way, soft and fleeting, like moonlight filtering through darkened leaves. It is a secret you hold close to your heart, something sacred and untouched, for Regulus Black is not supposed to smile like that. Not according to them.

To everyone else, he is sharp lines and cold eyes, distant and unyielding, a boy forged from winter’s breath and brittle starlight. His name drips from their tongues like a warning, a reminder of ancient bloodlines and whispered expectations. But you know better. You have seen the way his eyes soften when you laugh, the way his hands hesitate before touching yours as if afraid he might shatter something precious.

Regulus Black, to you, is soft edges and hidden warmth, tenderness folded into the corners of his smile, something gentle and achingly beautiful beneath the surface. They could not see it, would not believe it, but you did. You always did.

"Darling," James begins, slipping into his most condescending tone as he tilts his glasses down the bridge of his nose to peer at you properly, eyes alight with mischief. "I’ve known Reggie since fourth year, and not once have I ever seen a dimple. Not even a suggestion of one."

He is wrong, you think, pressing your lips together to keep the secret tucked safely in your heart.

They do not know the way Regulus looks at you when no one is watching, how his gaze softens like the edge of dawn, or how his laugh—rare and unbidden—blooms like a flower in the dark. They do not know that Regulus Black, for all his coldness, holds sunlight in his smile, and you are one of the very few who has ever been allowed to see it.

"That’s because you’re not paying attention," you shoot back, arms crossing defensively. "He does this little smile sometimes, it’s soft and kind of lopsided, and there’s this tiny dimple right here—" you poke your cheek again, more insistently, as if the physicality might convince them. "I swear, it’s like magic."

"Or madness," Remus suggests mildly, and Mary dissolves into laughter, her curls shaking as she leans further into him.

"I mean, we’re talking about Regulus Black here, right? My-face-is-carved-from-stone Regulus Black?"

"Maybe it’s just a shadow," Sirius chimes in, inspecting his nails with a grin that teeters on smugness. He hardly even glances up, as if the matter is too trivial for his full attention.

"A trick of the light. Or you’ve been hexed. Definitely hexed. I bet it’s a dimple jinx. You see fake dimples, fall madly in love." His grin widens, eyes glinting with mischief, and the others snicker at the notion.

"I have not been hexed!" you cry, voice pitching higher in your indignation, but your outburst only seems to spur their laughter further.

The sound spills into the room like the crackle of firewood, unrestrained and merry, and you stand at the center of it all, defiant and unyielding. "I’m telling you, I’ve seen them. He has dimples!"

"Right," James nods, his expression shifting to exaggerated seriousness as he claps a hand on your shoulder, eyes sparkling with that brand of Marauder mischief that rarely bodes well.

"And I’m secretly the heir to the Malfoy fortune."

"Stop it." you protest, your hands flying to your hips as if that might root your argument more firmly in truth.

"He has dimples. If you look closely, you’ll see them!"

They laugh again, the sound bubbling up like champagne flutes clinking together, indulgent and disbelieving. But you only hold your ground, chin tilted upward with all the stubbornness of someone who has glimpsed something magical and refuses to let it be reduced to smoke and shadows.

Because you know. You have seen the way Regulus’s face softens when he lets his guard slip, how those tiny, secret dimples blossom at the edges of his smile like something fragile and hidden from the rest of the world. It is not a trick of the light, not some fleeting mirage conjured by wishful thinking.

It is real. He is real. And maybe, just maybe, they have never looked closely enough.

"He does not," Sirius says flatly. "I would know. I’ve seen that miserable mug for seventeen years straight, and not once has it ever hinted at joy. If he’s smiling for you, you might want to check if he’s choking."

"You don’t know everything about him," you snap back, and it’s a bit more pointed than you intended, because Sirius’s expression shifts for the briefest moment, but then he’s back to smirking, one brow arched.

"Oh, I know enough. And I know that my miserable little brother is physically incapable of producing dimples. It would require smiling first. Which is practically illegal for him, by the way. Pretty sure he signed a contract with Death himself."

"He does smile," you argue. "Just... not around you lot."

Mary’s eyes light up at that, and she sits up a little straighter, nudging Remus. "Not around us, huh? Just around you?"

You hesitate, heat creeping up your neck. "Well… yeah. I suppose." At their expressions, you quickly add, "That’s not weird!"

"It’s a little weird," Remus says thoughtfully. "I mean, I’ve never seen him smile like that." He looks to Sirius for confirmation, who just shakes his head.

"Me neither," Sirius agrees. "And if he was going to be grinning like a lovesick idiot, I feel like I’d know. Or maybe you just have some sort of freaky dimple-seeing ability. Is that a thing? Can we get that checked?"

"Maybe he only smiles for her," Mary sing-songs, and you swat at her, cheeks blazing. "What? I’m just saying!"

You cross your arms tighter over your chest, frustration curling hot and sharp beneath your ribs. You know what you saw. It wasn’t magic or shadows or madness. It was Regulus, soft and unguarded in a way that felt almost secret. A piece of him reserved just for you, like a glimpse behind the curtain of a play only you were meant to watch.

But they wouldn’t believe you. They couldn’t. Because to them, Regulus was all sharp edges and cold stares, impenetrable as stone. But to you, he was something else entirely.

You saw the parts he kept hidden—the softness, the ache, the way his eyes would linger when he thought you weren’t looking. The way his fingers brushed yours just a bit too long when he handed you your books, the way he stood a little closer than necessary when you walked side by side. His dimples were proof of it. Proof of the parts of him that were gentle and real and yours.

"I’m not making it up," you murmur stubbornly, softer this time, almost like you’re telling it to yourself.

James leans back, stretching his legs out in front of him. "You know, I almost want you to be right. I’ve never seen Regulus with dimples before. I think it would break my brain."

The room is still shaking with laughter when the portrait door swings open. It is a subtle thing, just the soft groan of hinges and the hush of movement, but you feel it like an echo in your bones. Your gaze snaps up before you can help it, the breath stalling in your lungs as if caught between heartbeats.

There he is, Regulus Black, framed in the doorway like he has stepped out of a painting, shadows and light playing across his features in sharp relief.

He is ice and elegance, his gaze sweeping over the room with cool detachment, the sort of look that makes even Sirius go still. His brother’s grin falters, an instinctual pause as if the air has been sucked from the room.

Regulus’s eyes flicker over them, James’s raised brow, Sirius’s smirk half-frozen in place, Remus’s unbothered calm, but there is nothing there, not even a nod of acknowledgment. His expression is marble-carved, beautiful and unyielding.

But then his gaze finds yours, and it softens, melts like snow beneath the first touch of spring. His eyes brighten, lips twitching at the corners, and suddenly it is like you are the only two people in the room. The change is breathtaking, the kind of transformation that feels like stepping into sunlight after days of rain.

Without thinking, you are already moving, feet carrying you across the room as if pulled by some invisible thread.

"Regulus," you breathe, and the way his name falls from your lips feels like unspooling thread, like the first sigh of spring. His expression softens entirely, something delicate and aching sparking behind his eyes as you practically throw yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, arms winding around your waist, steady and certain, like he has been waiting for you his entire life.

Your hands are in his hair before you realize it, fingertips grazing the base of his neck as you pull back just enough to look at him properly. His smile is still there, still hovering at the edges, and it is soft and real and yours.

"I missed you," you whisper, half a confession, half a prayer, and as soon as the words leave your lips, it happens.

A tiny crease, delicate and almost imperceptible, blooms on his left cheek, like the first hint of dawn breaking over a dark horizon.

A dimple, soft and secret, there and gone in a heartbeat, as if it only exists for you.

"I missed you too, amour," he murmurs, his gaze flicking over your face like he is memorizing it. "You have no idea."

There is a tension in the room, thick and breathless, as if the very walls are leaning in to listen, the crackle of the fire muted under the weight of disbelief.

The Marauders and Mary are watching with wide eyes, suspended between fascination and utter incredulity, as if the scene before them is too tender, too impossibly soft to be real.

Regulus Black—aloof and unyielding, frost-kissed and sharp-edged—is holding you like something sacred, his arms wrapped around you with a gentleness that seems to contradict everything they thought they knew of him. His thumb brushes across your cheek, feather-light and reverent, as though you are made of something finer than bone and breath, something worth protecting.

And then he smiles—just a fraction more—but it is enough.

You do not even realize what you are doing; your body moves before your mind catches up, and you lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, quick and soft and so achingly familiar it feels like slipping into an old memory. He blinks, eyes flickering with surprise, but you do not pull away.

You lean in again, pressing your lips to his other cheek, right where his smile deepens, and it happens—a twin to the first, blooming on the opposite cheek as if coaxed into existence by your touch alone.

A second dimple, tender and unmistakable, carved into his pale skin like it had been waiting there all along, hidden just beneath the surface.

You are not the only one who notices.

Behind you, there is the unmistakable sound of someone choking on their own breath, followed by a very loud, "What the hell?" from James, his voice pitched somewhere between awe and utter disbelief.

Regulus glances up, his gaze catching on James, who is staring as if he has just witnessed stone turn to gold, like magic itself has unfolded right in front of him.

Sirius is uncharacteristically silent, eyes narrowed in something akin to suspicion or maybe even wonder, while James’s jaw is completely unhinged, glasses slipping precariously down the bridge of his nose.

Remus is blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear away a mirage, mouth slightly parted in surprise. And Mary—sweet, sharp-eyed Mary—looks positively gleeful, her grin spreading slow and wicked as she nudges Remus sharply in the ribs, her eyes dancing with triumph.

"I told you," she mouths, lips curving around each word with delight.

Because it is true.

There is no need to look closely, no need to squint or peer beneath shadows—Regulus Black’s dimples are right there, clear as daylight and twice as warm, so stunningly visible that they might as well have been carved out of starlight.

They blossom wide and unguarded, softening the sharp lines of his face, and for a heartbeat, he is not the boy forged from winter’s chill and midnight silence. He is something brighter, something softer, and it is plain to see that with you, he is allowed to be gentle.

"I told you!" you practically crow, turning back to face them while still locked in Regulus’s arms. "I told you he has dimples!"

Sirius remains silent, watching with something like suspicion, but James looks like he has seen a ghost.

James is still staring. "I think I need to sit down."

"You are sitting down," Remus points out.

"I think I need to sit down lower," James clarifies faintly.

But you are not paying attention to them anymore, because Regulus is looking at you with that same impossible smile, both dimples still lingering like promises.

His hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking a gentle line across your skin. "You told them about my dimples?" he asks, voice low and edged with amusement.

You nod, breathless and unashamed. "I did. And they did not believe me."

His smile softens, stretching wider, and both dimples deepen like secret doorways to some hidden softness that only you are allowed to see.

He leans in, the space between you shrinking until his breath mingles with yours, and his voice drops to a low, velvety murmur meant only for you.

"You really should not spend so much time with Gryffindors," he whispers, his tone laced with quiet disdain that is more habit than heart, though his gaze remains warm and unyielding, crafted entirely for you. "I think they are starting to rub off on you." His eyes glimmer with amusement, but there is something else there too, something tender that settles in the quiet curve of his smile.

Your laughter spills out, bright and unrestrained, like the first crack of sunlight through winter clouds, and before you know it, your hands are tugging him closer, closing whatever space remains.

In that moment, it is just you and him, suspended in the fragile stillness that belongs only to the two of you, where the rest of the world feels distant and unimportant, something to be dealt with later.

For now, there is only this: his smile, his dimples carved like promises into his cheeks, and the gentle, unwavering warmth of his arms around you, holding you close as if he is terrified of letting go, as if this is a vow whispered into the spaces between heartbeats.

The truth is, Sirius had always known that Regulus had dimples.

He had known for years, had seen the faint creases carve themselves into his brother’s cheeks on the rarest of occasions, like fleeting whispers of a softer world beneath the ice.

But the thing is, those dimples only ever appeared when Regulus was around you, when your laughter spilled into the room like sunlight or when your name slipped from his mouth with that unguarded tenderness that seemed to unravel something deep and hidden in him.

It was as though the universe had woven this small, delicate fragment of softness solely for you to uncover, a secret threaded carefully into the very fabric of him, waiting patiently for your hands to find it, to hold it like something sacred and fragile and wholly yours.

[crescenthistory]

࣪💌 = fluff I 📭 = angst I 📬 = hurt/comfort I 📜 = smut I 🪧 = humour

𖤐 regulus arcturus black

(3.8k) Totally Just the Fifth and Sixth Wheel (💌🪧: mutual pining, reg and reader in denial about their feelings are called out by friends)

⤷ (4.8k) Part 2, Still Totally Just the Fifth and Sixth Wheel, You Guys (💌🪧: the triple date to hogsmeade, more pining and denial ensues) ⤷ (6.8k) Part 3, Okay Fine Maybe We're In Love! (💌: the culmination of their feelings paired with an eventful quidditch match)

(2.6k) You occupy my every thought (💌📬: reader just gets regulus and he is flabbergasted, sunshine x grumpy dynamic)

(3k) Are you falling asleep on me? (💌: you would rather spend a late night studying in the library with regulus than be without him; he is enamoured with you for it)

(5.7k) Professional Meddlers (🪧: the girls play matchmakers with you and regulus, some hurt/comfort if you squint)

(6k) Come Running (📬: regulus is the last to find out his girlfriend is injured, feat. found family with your shared friends and madam pomfrey)

⤷ blurb about rosekiller's reaction

(5.5k) And what will come of us then? (📬📭: regulus finds reader sobbing with magical ink on her hands and is forced to confront himself)

(3k) on the tip of my tongue (💌: regulus says "i love you" for the first time and reflects on what love has been for him over the years)

(2.5k) Amour (💌📜: domestic afternoon in your own flat, you enjoy it when regulus calls you amour and he loves that you love it)

(6.2k) Matters Unspoken (📭📬💌: regulus tries to be comfortable in his new loving relationship, but then he learns of your legilimency and his trauma-response takes over)

cat!animagus!reader (aka the adventures of whiskers and shadow, feat. bsf!marauders)

⤷ (3k) Feline Touches (💌🪧: regulus knows exactly where to find you when you're hiding from the cold) ⤷ (2.4k) Sweet Like Honey; Karma is a Cat (💌🪧: wolfstar neglect to wake you when you and reg fall asleep in cat form) ⤷ (2.4k) Padfoot vs. Whiskers (💌🪧: you and reg get revenge on sirius in cat form) ⤷ (1.7k) Where Padfoot Lays His Head (📬: whiskers comforts padfoot) ⤷ (1.3k) the furred shoulder (📬🪧: reader remains in animagus form when she has a petty fight with reg, he tries to get her back) ⤷ (1.8k) not sneeze proof (💌📬: reader keeps turning into whiskers when she sneezes) ⤷ (1.5k) sharing is caring (💌🪧: bsf!barty finds whiskers asleep in the library and brings her back to regulus, but not without demands) ⤷ (1.5k) fix you up (💌📬: regulus turns into shadow to comfort you when you get injured as whiskers)

drabbles:

(1.5k) let me see you (📜: reg is working on letting go and opening up to you; you're encouraging him)

(1.3k) he seeks a celebration (💌: suggestive, when slytherin wins the quidditch match, regulus just want to celebrate with you)

(1.3k) nothing matters but you (💌: cuddling the night before your birthday)

(1.3k) all things new (🪧💌: regulus begs his friends to be cool around you when you meet for the first time)

(2k) you could never hurt me (💌📬: soulmate au, regulus realises his potions deskmate is his soulmate and spirals)

(0.8k) jasmine bath salts (💌: regulus draws you a bath after work)

(1.1k) waiting out the storm (📬: regulus is hiding in a coffee shop after the war; you come to find him)

(1.8k) on pining and patching up in the prefects’ bathroom (📬💌: reg insists on healing reader after she gets in a fight)

(0.7k) sleep talker (💌: the first night you sleep in the same bed, regulus lets down his guard enough for his childhood habit to return)

(0.7k) letting go (💌: regulus is drunk, lovely and slowly learning how to heal and let go)

headcanons:

☆ bonding with regulus over bugs

☆ regulus x sunshine!reader

☆ black!sister!reader and barty crouch jr.

☆ regulus' nightmares (& how you help him through them)

features in:

poly!moonwater

(1.9k) What Now? (💌: your concerned boyfriends find you feeling poorly in the infirmary and dote on you)

(0.7k) hospital au (💌📬: muggle au, you accompany remus to a&e where your boyfriend works)

find more regulus in poly!bartlus in the slytherin skittles masterlist

[hotdamnitsmoony]

regulus “and if i’m dead to you, why are you at the wake?” black

sirius “you’re alive, you’re alive in my head.” black

[motherearthlovesus]

theo nott & regulus black eiffel tower you in france

pairings: theodore nott x regulus black x reader

warnings: 18+, smut, praise, rough sex, double penetration, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (m. receiving), threesome, swallowing cum, being cummed on, bad italian & french

summary: on a alumni trip to beaubaxtons, seeing the eiffel tower sparks theo and regulus' imagination - based on this mini imagine

the eiffel tower glimmered in the fading sunset, enchanting a group of hogwarts students who stood mesmerized by the iconic structure. accompanying them was a handful of respected alumni, including, yourself, theodore nott and regulus black, and some other people you never knew very well in school. you had all volunteered to guide the students through their trip to beauxbatons due to the professors busy schedules.

theodore leaned against a nearby railing, a sly grin forming on his lips. regulus stood beside him, trying to ignore a group of fawning 6th-years.

“this view, it gives me an idea.” theo remarked to regulus

“what are you on about nott?” he snarked, walking away from the school girls

theodore's head jerked towards you and he raised a questioning eyebrow, smirking. regulus looked between you, theo and the eiffel tower, a grin immediately plastered his face.

"watch this" theo boasted.

the boys sauntered over to you, theo casually draping his arm around you. you know theo well enough to know that this was definitely cause for suspicion.

"ah sfarzosa, just the girl we want to see" theo threw a wink at regulus that went unnoticed by you. "we'll be stopping by your place later, we have trip admin do to tonight"

you raised an eyebrow, “trip admin? what trip admin?”

regulus chimed in, his expression teasing. “yeah, what trip admin? And doesn't someone needs to be on hallway duty to stop the kids from sneaking out”

“oh, longbottom can take care of that,” theo replied dismissively, waving a hand. “mcgonagall just called, she's making us do it. we’ll see you there at eight.” theo gabbled.

before you could say anything else, the boys had slipped away almost as instantaneously as they had appeared

"watch this" regulus mocked

"well you didn't bloody help!" theo retorted pushing regulus as far away as he could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

you were in the shower when you heard a knock at the door

"fuck" you muttered, quickly turning off the shower and jumping into a fluffy white hotel bathrobe, "how long was i in there?"

you raced to the door and glanced at the clock. 7:30.

you swung the door open and said remarked coldy "you're early!" without a moments hesitation

longbottom stood there flustered and staring at your chest. you looked down and concealed the small about of cleavage showing.

"oh longbottom, its like you've never seen boobs before"

he laughed it off in a way which did not inspire confidence in that fact, "i just came to ask why no body is on hallway duty"

suddenly, a manly hand clamped onto neville's soft shoulder, "that's because you're supposed to be on hallway duty, longbottom"

"oh, right" neville agreed and briskly walked off around the corner. clearly just wanting to leave the situation,

"poor longbottom looked like he was about to have a heart attack" theo feigned sympathy.

"you really should be more careful" regulus added as the boys squeezed past you, regulus shutting the door with his heel

“so, what’s this about admin duty?” you asked, crossing your arms skeptically.

“oh you know, just some itinerary and transport logistics,” theodore said smoothly, a charming smile plastered on his face “gotta keep the trip running smoothly.” he glanced over at Regulus, who was nodding along.

you arched an eyebrow, “really? because i just spoke with professor mcgonagall, and she told me that luna already handled the schedules.”

they glanced quickly at each other, smirked and both put their hands up in defeat.

"merdé" smirked regulus

"you caught us" theo added.

"we just wanted to spend some time with you, trésor"

"but can you blame us? paris is supposed to literally and figuarivley be one of the most magical places on the planet, so obviously we wanted to spend it with the brightest witch we know" theo said as he walked over to you and took your robe off your shoulder.

“you know, it’s not every day we’re in paris with a view like this,” theo hummed

“so, we were thinking we could celebrate by doing something special” regulus continued, stepping closer to untie your robe. you let it drop to the floor, leaving you standing there completely naked. the cool air blew in through the balcony door you forgot to close, causing your nipples to harden.

“pazzo, i can’t decide which view is more beautiful,” theo said, walking around to the side of the bed, his eyes gazing up and down your body.

"i can" regulus said as he bent you over the foot of the bed, he spanked your ass once on each cheek, admiring the view he chose. your breath caught as he suddenly slid his fingers up and down the entrance to your core.

“it seems she’s ready for us, theo” regulus teased lustfully.

“hold her there,” theo instructed, his voice low and sultry. he climbed onto the bed and knelt in front of you, positioning himself just inches away from your mouth.

“now, be a good girl and open up for me,” theo commanded softly, a smirk playing on his lips. with a nod of obedience, you opened your mouth, he caressed your face and he slid himself in. at the same time, regulus positioned himself behind you, teasingly running his tip along your slick core before roughly pushing inside. the dual sensations of pleasure made you gasp around theo, the sound vibrating against him, causing his eyes to darken with pleasure. your body shudders with arousal at being completely filled up.

“parfaite” regulus said, thrusting in deep and slow, his fingers digging into your hips. the rhythm was synced perfectly with theo’s movements, it was driving you crazy.

theo gripped your hair, pulling your head back so that your gaze to meet his as he pushed deeper into your mouth with slow, deliberate strokes. “così, proprio così” he moaned.

you had no idea what any of their words had meant—only that they dripped with hunger, and the way regulus’s voice began to fracture, made it clear you were driving him mad. whatever they was saying, it was exactly what you wanted to hear.

theo’s thumb pressed against your bottom lip, pulling it down just slightly as his gaze bored into yours "look at her,” he drawled, his tone full of smug pleasure. “look at how well she takes us both.” regulus' hips slammed into your ass at such a fast pace, that theo's dick was hitting the back of your throat with each stroke. the overwhelming rhythm between them was relentless—regulus’s rough, deep thrusts drove you forward onto theo until tears welled in your eyes and the pleasure became blinding. with a strangled moan muffled around theo, you came hard, your walls clenching desperately around regulus, pulling him even deeper. your legs threatened to give out, as a second wave of pleasure cam crashing over you.

"there it is,” regulus moaned in between thrusts, the praise curling around you like silk.

“now, sweetheart, be ready” theo said, his breath hitching and his cock twitching in your mouth.

he released himself in your mouth, you could taste the warmth and the salty sweetness of him as you swallowed. the scene sent regulus over the edge as at the next moment he pulled out and painted your back. the sensation sent shivers down your spine. regulus stood there for a moment panting before pulling out his wand.

"scourgify" he said pointing at your sticky back. theo pulled you up onto the bed and placed you down in the middle of it. regulus climbed into bed on the other side and brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek as his dark eyes studied you with a mix of admiration and mischief.

“you know, we really should do this more often,” he mused.

you smirked, “only if you earn it. you guys don't want me thinking you're easy, do you?”

"no we wouldn't" theo chuckled “how do we do that?”

"that's for you to figure out; i'm far too tired," you murmured, rolling into theo's arms. with regulus then curling up behind you, it felt as though you were floating, and your eyes fluttered shut, welcoming sleep.

reblogs & feedback are super appreciated <3

there was a million ways i could've ended this but i clearly chose the most boring way 😔😔😔😔 i didn't mean for this to be so long but writing threesomes is inherently more complicated, i think.

also if u spot any spelling or grammar mistakes pls lemme know im super sleepy xoxo

[leeny-leens]

cw: implied childhood trauma, thoughts about committing murder

The door slams shut, the sound ringing loudly through the apartment and he flinches. For a moment, he's back in that wretched house, anger clouding his parents' eyes as they strike and strike.

The next moment, he sees you furiously wiping your face, tears of anger wetting your cheeks. Immediately, he jumps from the couch he's sprawled on, meeting you halfway in a bone crushing hug.

"Shh, 's okay, 'm right here my sweet one," he cooes, rubbing your back as you fist the fabric of his shirt angrily in your hands.

"She's so fucking mean," you sob bitterly, and he swears that whoever this person is, they will be laying six feet under soon enough.

You stand in the middle of the living room for a few more minutes, your sobs slowly dying down while his voice fills the silence, whispering sweet nothings and words of comfort.

Finally, you let go of him just enough to look at his face, eyes swollen and eyelashes wet from all the crying.

"I'm sorry for slamming the door," you croak, guilt evident in your wobbly lips and hoarse voice.

"Apology accepted," he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead with a small smile.

"How about you go change, I'll make us some snacks and then you can bitch all about what's making you mad over some chick-flicks and off brand sweets?" The prospect of a good venting session in your comfy lounge wear significantly boosts your mood, your entire body just about melting against him.

You grab him by the scruff of his neck, pulling him into a quick yet intense kiss that is tinged with the taste of your salty tears, sighing dreamily against him.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so grateful you're mine." You declare, finally untangling yourself from his embrace to disappear into your bedroom.

He looks after you fondly, staring at the shut door for a few moments before busying himself with the snack mission, humming the entire time, his mind on track to maximize the comfort you'll be receiving.

For the rest of the night, he holds you and lets you rant all you want, matching your energy at every step and thinks to himself that this must be the life, this is what makes all the years of hardships and pain really worth it.

Carl Gallagher, Blaise Zabini, Barty Crouch Jr., Regulus Black, Sirius Black, Evan Rosier, Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Miya Osamu

[heaven4lostgirls]

forbidden love! Junior x Fem!gryffindor reader where Barty hates that you have to hide. PLOT TWIST (cus I need drama lols) Barty gets in a fight with another guy who said rude crap about reader/y/n and bartys getting hurt when reader steps in with magic and threats.

Ppl don't mess with Barty any more.

pairing: barty crouch jr x fem!gryffindor!reader

summary: request above!

warnings: mentions of blood purity, barty crouch sr. voldemort, slytherin hate, not proofread, graphic descriptions of blood + violence

word count: 1.4K

“No” Barty whines as you disentangle your limbs from his. As you leave the warmth of the blankets laid over his bed, you’re met with a breeze that has you shiver slightly.

Barty tugs at your arm as you swing your legs over the bed and lean to grasp your wand, “Come back to bed” he mumbles as he tries to pull you back under his green bedsheets.

It’s earlier than you would normally wake up, around 4AM you’d assume, given the dark sky you can see from the window to the left of Barty’s bed.

Barty and yourself both knew that the consequence of spending the night in his dorm meant that you’d have to sneak out the following morning before anyone else woke up.

It was one of the worst parts of keeping your relationship a secret. Barty hated sneaking around, not being able to tell anyone how much he adored you or having to reign in his possessive and jealous nature.

He had to grit his teeth and stand by as some brave – or rather stupid – Gryffindors tried their luck with you in hopes of asking you to Hogsmeade. Barty however found relief in being able to hex them in the corridors which was expected from students in Slytherin.

“You know I can’t stay” You whisper into the quiet of the room and Barty only gives a grumbled response, his dark hair framed across his pillow as he blinks open his eyes to pout at you.

“I’ll hex anyone that says anything, just come back to bed” he says again and although you roll your eyes, you can’t help the little flutter within your heart at the sentiment.

“You also know it’s not about the Hogwarts student body” you say pointedly as you reach for an old long sleeve quidditch jersey of Barty’s  to lay over your pyjamas to shield you from the cold.

Barty’s irritated groan is louder than it needs to be for this early in the morning, though you can’t help the small laugh that leaves you as he throws what can only be described as a small tantrum.

“I’m going to kill my father one day” Barty swears, and you snort before gathering the rest of your clothes, kissing Barty sweetly before hurriedly making your way to your own common room.

Interhouse relationships within Hogwarts weren’t necessarily looked down upon, It often fostered unity within the Hogwarts community and was sometimes even encouraged.

Although, with that knowledge also came the understanding of house rivalries. Gryffindor and Slytherin’s house rivalry was one of the most well known rivalries within the school.

Tensions only grew  higher as house loyalties filtered into external loyalties, as pureblood Slytherin students’  families affiliated themselves with Voldemort and the dark arts and as Gryffindor families chose to walk the line of the light.

Therefore, it was only reasonable to assume that your relationship with Barty, if public knowledge, would cause somewhat of a hysteria among students.

Not only that, considering that Barty Crouch Sr. was known to be intolerant politically of any support of Voldemort and his little cult, he was also equally intolerable of his own son.

One was more publicly known than the other however Barty knew full well, should news of his relationship with you reach the media, Barty would soon be associated with Voldemort and his fathers campaign would be in jeopardy.

So, therefore. A secret relationship between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin bloomed under moonlit skies and abandoned corridor kisses.

As you reached your common room, you made quick work of sneaking into your dorm as the rest of your roommates laid sleeping. Under the covers you close your eyes to allow yourself a couple hours of more sleep.

The following morning, as you sit at the Gryffindor table, slowly eating your breakfast as you try to rub the sleep out of your eyes, you can hear the loud chatter of the marauders to your left and Marlene’s grumbling to your right.

Your seat allows you to view the Slytherin table and you can make out the figures of Barty, Evan and Regulus all sitting huddled together. Barty meets your eyes over the tables and gives you a slight wink which has your cheeks warming.

You look down and continue to eat your breakfast as you converse with Lily about your classes for the day.

You’re disrupted by the sound of glasses shattering and gasps, a small wail cuts through the air and before you know it, you’re on your feet looking frantically at the Slytherin table.

Barty has his hands on Mulciber’s robes, his gaze angry and his form trembling. You can see Evan trying to talk him down and Regulus watching curiously. Barty seems to be yelling and you bring yourself out of your shocked daze to hear his voice.

“-SAY THAT AGAIN ABOUT HER, I DARE YOU!, I’LL CURSE YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING BLOODLINE, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING TWAT!” Barty yells and gasps filter around the dining hall as Barty shakes Mulciber mercilessly.

Mulciber smirks menacingly before whispering something to Barty that has his nostrils flaring, he pulls back one of his arms to punch the living daylights out of the other Slytherin, however before he can he’s met with a curse from Avery that has his flying back into a wall.

Your heart stops as Barty’s head thuds against the wall, his form laying limp against the concrete. Your eyesight blurs at your tears but you can see the figures of Evan and Regulus standing up, wands at the ready as they throw spell after spell at Mulciber and Avery.

You hear commotion as Sirius and James both call out worried as a stray spell hits Regulus which has him down for a count before he stands up again, his gaze cold and unflinching.

You’re moving before you know it, running across the dining hall, away from Lily’s worried “Y/N don’t!-”, as you watch as Snape’s disgusted expression looks at Barty’s still slumped over figure.

Barty has a trail of blood running down his forehead, he stirs a bit as he looks up to be met with the end of Snape’s wand.

Snape stares at him boredly before he starts, “Sectum-”

“Don’t you fucking touch him” you hiss as you grasp your wand, hissing out a powerful ‘Expelliarmus’ that has Snape being thrown back towards Mulciber and Avery.

They both look at Snape in shock before they turn to your blazing form, your eyes manic as you stand protectively in front of Barty. Evan and Regulus both walk to stand at your sides as the three of you look towards Mulciber and Avery.

“Walk away Mulciber” you say coldly as the Slytherin’s eyes light up before he smirks lazily, “And the little bitch returns to her owner” Avery drawls.

Before you can reply, a strong stinging hex hits Avery that has him cursing as tears rise in his eyes.

“Watch your mouth Avery.” Evan says with his wand being held out in front of him. You look at him in shock and he only shrugs and gives you a small smirk, “You’re one of us.”

You nod softly, you catch the glimpse of a red light heading your way before Regulus moves in front of you to defend you. You hear James and Sirius cursing him out as they also run towards you three as Peter and Remus are instructed to call a professor.

“It’s ill etiquette to curse someone behind their back Mulciber, did your whore of a mother teach you nothing?” Regulus hisses as he hexes Mulciber with a body-binding spell.

Barty’s groaning distracts you from everything as he opens his eyes, confused as he looks around to see you, Evan and Regulus duelling Avery, Mulciber and what looks like Snape’s hunched over form.

“What?” he asks confused as he lifts his hand to touch the top of his head where his wound lies.

You quickly look at Barty’s form before throwing another body bind to Avery as you stomp towards their limp forms.

The first punch has Mulciber howling in pain as blood gushes from his nose, “You come anywhere near my boyfriend again, I will kill you.” You say, gaze unflinching.

Avery struggles under the spell before you kick him in his ribs, “Stop fucking squirming. It’s good to know when one has been bested, yes?” you say with a cold smile as you meet both of their angry yet scared gazes.

“If I see either of you near him again, I will hold true to my promise” you hiss, turning around to the amused yet proud looks of Evan and Regulus who have Barty between them, his form slighting leaning on Evan’s taller figure.

You walk a couple steps before you lift your leg to stomp it down into the middle of Mulciber’s legs which has Evan, Regulus and Barty wincing.

You nod and smile at the pained groan before walking swiftly to Barty, “You okay Bee?” you whisper softly as you look worriedly into his eyes before lifting your hand to lift his hair to get a better look at his wound.

You hiss at the blood before looking at Barty with worry, “We need to get you to the infirmary-”

“You’re so fucking hot” Barty says with a wicked smile.

You splutter and Evan groans to your left, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Regulus says disgusted from your right.

He’s distracted by  Sirius and James sprinting towards him with worry in their eyes. You drown out the sound of what sounds like Regulus being looked over and cursed for being idiotic for just blindly jumping into a fight.

Barty just smirks and looks at you, “Cat’s out of the bag then?” he asks with a hopeful look. You’re confused for a second before you bite your bottom lip with a small shrug, embarrassed.

“Yeah, sorry” you mumble before Barty tsks and pulls you into him, kissing you deeply. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this” he says against your lips.

You only smile and kiss him back

[dismalflo]

Flo, I saw this ask and thought I should shoot my shot and request this idea that had been stuck in my head. Soooo, dearest, can I request a Reggie fic or drabble wherein he was asked to babysit Draco? I just know he’d be so scared and caring at the same time. 😭🫶

thank you for requesting tally, my love! <3 this is much more serious than it should've been haha

Regulus Black x reader ✩ 1.4k words

cw: fluff, mentions of regulus' childhood

The sound of a muffled voice catches you off guard just as the front door clicks shut behind you. Regulus has never been one to talk to himself – not even when he’s pacing the floor, deep in thought. A frown begins to carve its way onto your face as you toe off your shoes and step further inside.

“Reggie?” you call out, but the silence that follows is absolute.

The living room looks like a stranger’s attempt at recreating yours. Familiar shapes in unfamiliar places. The cushions, usually arranged with an almost obsessive precision, are scattered across the floor. A trail of half-eaten snacks litters the coffee table, accompanied by the telltale shine of spilled juice. You blink at the mess.

The voice again – clearer now. It’s coming from the kitchen.

You follow the sound, and there he is: standing in front of the open fridge, shirt rumpled, hair tousled and standing in places where it looks like he's been tugging at the roots.

“Regulus?” you say again, softer now, more coaxing than questioning. At the sound of your voice, his tense shoulders drop, just slightly.

“Amour.” He exhales the word like a lifeline, turning to face you. There’s barely a moment to register this rare, almost rakish version of him before your eyes catch on the small blond child nestled against his hip, one gummy fist curled in Regulus’ collar.

Draco.

You blink. Regulus is holding Draco.

Before you can shape a single question, he’s already unraveling the explanation in a hurried string of words. 

“Cissa asked if we could babysit–last minute. I think she meant more you than me,” he says, too quickly. His voice is tight, a touch higher than usual. His eyes, normally sharp and composed, are wide and unmoored. “I was going to call you but then she just… dropped him off.”

You’ve seen Regulus face down a lot of scary things. You’ve seen him walk away from most of his family, piece together something tentative with Sirius and rebuild himself after all of it.  But this – this nervous wreck of a man clutching a toddler – is a rare and oddly endearing sight.

“Right,” you say, pressing your lips together, not quite succeeding at suppressing a smile. You step closer, now barefoot on the cool floor.

“Don’t laugh,” he pleads, already hearing it in your breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

And that’s all it takes. The laugh escapes, light and delighted, before you can stop it. It bubbles up and spills over and, miraculously, draws a giggle from Draco, who’s still tucked snugly into Regulus’ arms.

You look at the little boy, noting the way his sticky hand is practically glued to Regulus’ collar, cheeks flushed and round with sleep or sugar, probably both.

“Hi, handsome,” you coo, brushing the back of your finger across a soft, baby-plump cheek. “How are you?”

The response is a delighted babble, animated and incoherent, followed by a suspiciously adult-sounding huff. Regulus looks vaguely betrayed. You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to the underside of Regulus’ jaw where the tension knots visibly under his skin. His breath catches for a moment, a small shudder passing through him like he’s been holding himself too tight for too long.

“Has he been fed?” you ask quietly, brushing a damp curl from Draco’s forehead.

Regulus exhales, a long, weary sigh that seems to carry the weight of the entire day. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough, “tried a bit of everything from his bag.” His eyes flicker with something soft – relief, maybe, that at least that part is done.

You reach up and place your hand on his back, just between his shoulders, and start to rub small, soothing circles. The tension there is a stubborn thing, slow to leave.

“Have you eaten?” you ask, your fingers stilling briefly, just to emphasise the point.

His brow furrows like the question confuses him. “He’s the baby,” he says slowly, like that explains everything. “Why would I—”

You arch a brow, tilting your head. “You haven’t taken your eyes off him since he got here, have you?”

Regulus blinks, caught. His mouth opens, closes, then opens again like he’s trying to defend himself but can’t quite find the angle.

 “Of course I haven’t,” he says, slightly indignant, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “What if he gets hurt? What if he chokes on something or hits his head or–or just falls apart? What if–”

A small, startled grunt stops the slow build of panic, followed immediately by a sharp tug to his hair.

“Ow–Draco, no,” Regulus hisses, eyes squeezing shut in pain as the tiny hand fisted in his dark strands tugs again with all the surprising strength toddlers seem to have.

You hide a laugh behind your hand, stepping in without hesitation.

 “Alright, sweetheart,” you murmur, and with careful fingers, you begin gently unfurling Draco’s tight grip. 

Regulus’ breathing stutters, speeding up with little rhythm, again as your touch lingers, your fingers brushing his scalp, then down the side of his face, smoothing over the tense edge of his jaw like balm.

“Deep breaths, love,” you whisper.

He closes his eyes and does as you ask, drawing in a shaky breath and letting it out slowly. His shoulders sag as though he’s just remembered how.

You wait. You’ve always known how to wait through his spirals – how to anchor him gently, without force. The panic that once clung to him like a second skin is rarer now, appearances few and far between. But when it returns, it still hits hard and sudden.

Draco babbles something against Regulus’ chest and then lets out a sneeze, his tiny limbs jolting at the sound. Regulus immediately shifts, instinctively protective.

You give him another moment, watching the tension drain in slow increments.

“Do you want me to take him?” you ask softly. “You can make yourself something to eat, yeah? Get your bearings.”

Regulus doesn’t answer right away. You see the conflict flicker in his eyes – torn between pride and exhaustion, between trust and a still bubbling anxiety.

He looks down at Draco, who is now happily smearing a faint line of drool across his collarbone, and then back at you.

You add, gently, “It’s completely up to you. Whatever you want.”

Regulus swallows. Then, quieter than before: “If that’s alright.”

Your smile deepens as you stretch your arms out for the baby. “Of course it is.”

He passes Draco over with such careful, lingering hands, like he might dissolve without his touch. You settle the boy on your hip, your body already swaying, instinctive. Draco sighs, content, and nuzzles into your shoulder.

Once he’s sure Draco’s weight is secure in your arms, Regulus lingers a moment, brushing a thumb over the baby’s socked foot like he’s reluctant to let go completely.

“Go make a sandwich, Reggie. Or heat up the leftover soup–unless that’s what’s all over the coffee table?”

He glares weakly. “Juice.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Regulus watches you for a moment longer before turning toward the counter, finally moving to make himself something – toast, probably, the only thing he reliably trusts himself not to burn when distracted.

And even with his back to you, he can’t stop glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.

There’s something about the way you hold Draco, confident and instinctive. Your cheek brushing lightly against blond curls. The way you sway just the smallest bit on your feet, calming without thinking. And the baby, usually fussy with unfamiliarity, is content. Quiet. Safe.

It hits him harder than he expects.

Regulus has spent his life navigating things no one should have to. Tiptoeing through rooms where love came with conditions, where softness was foreign and fleeting. And yet, here you are. Patient. Steady. Effortless.

He’s seen you in a hundred different lights. But this? This is something else entirely.

He turns toward the fridge with a newfound stillness in his limbs.

Draco sighs dramatically against your shoulder, like this has all been terribly hard work for him too. You chuckle, gently rocking side to side.

Regulus pauses with his hand on the fridge door, glancing back one more time. “You’re good at this,” he murmurs, voice low and sweet.

You meet his eyes over Draco’s head. “So are you.”

He huffs softly, the closest thing to a laugh he’s managed all day. “I feel like I’ve aged ten years in two hours.”

“You’ll bounce back.” You smile, and his heart stutters.

masterlist <3