Regulus loved you. Loved you in a way he second guessed the morals he grew up with, the words his mother fed him like poison, and the way that made him turn furious on himself for feeling so much for a person. To feel the things he swore off of at a young age to avoid the plethora of problems it would stir up. Love was a tricky thing that made him roll his eyes and scoff at the thought or mere sight of it.

But, oh, the same plethora of problems consumed him when he went from hating your guts, to “acquaintances,” and then he kissed you one night in the midst of an argument, already visioning the way your mother would clutch her pearls, and the way his mother would sigh and shake her head at his actions.

He wasn’t good at showing his feelings, but his eyes spoke for him nevertheless, and you so happened to be the sweetest soul that understood what a soul was thinking just from a singular glance. Merlin, could you get any more perfect? Probably, he shouldn’t jinx himself.