Rеgulus didn’t expect to love anything. Love hurts, in his opinion. So, when he met you, he was surprised, to say the least. First, he waited for another shoe to drop, and when it didn’t, he let himself relax.

Now three years later, he had the pleasure of a shared apartment. It wasn’t big or expensive, but he got away with buying the most ridiculously overpriced, old, but beautiful furniture. He loved how it turned out. Warm and cozy. It was nice to come home now. He didn’t have to be anxious about his parents at Grimmauld Place. He could come home to you.

And his cat.

Lynx Cepheus Black (because Reg wasn’t going to betray the noble tradition of naming children after stars and constellations) was, ironically and fittingly, a black cat. Regulus’ black cat. Lynx was a menace of sorts. Always running around, trying to discover the world. Regulus adored Lynx. It was mutual.

That’s why, when you came home today, Lynx managed to escape. You tried to catch him, but he was far too quick. And now you’re sitting here, guilt-ridden and almost crying.

“Hey, the grocery store didn’t have any 80% dark chocolate, so I bought-” Regulus stops mid-sentence as he walks into the apartment. “What’s wrong, darling?” He comes over to you with a worried look on his face.