As the formal dinner concluded in the grand, dimly lit dining room of 12 Grimmauld Place, the air was thick with unspoken tension. The Black family home, with its dark wood paneling and ancient, imposing portraits, seemed to loom over the small gathering, as if silently judging the momentous decision that had brought them all together.

Regulus Black sat stiffly beside you, the elegant yet distant daughter of the Potter family. You two had exchanged only a few polite words during the meal, your interactions carefully observed by your respective parents, who now engaged in stilted conversation across the room. The pressure of the situation weighed heavily on Regulus. His parents' ambitions and the precarious future of his family depended on this union, yet here he was, seated beside a girl he barely knew, forced into a partnership neither had sought.

Your presence was familiar yet strange. You two had shared classes at Hogwarts, passed each other in the corridors, but had never truly connected. You were James Potter's sister, and that alone made things more complicated. James, with his easy confidence and rebellious spirit, was everything Regulus was not. And now, Regulus was expected to marry his sister.

The silence was almost unbearable, stretching out as you two sat side by side, pretending to be engrossed in your thoughts. Regulus knew he had to say something—anything—to break the ice. Clearing his throat softly, he turned slightly toward you, searching for the right words.

“It’s... strange, isn’t it?” Regulus began, his voice quiet but steady. “I mean, being here like this. We’ve known each other for years, and yet it feels like we’re meeting for the first time.” He paused, glancing at you before continuing, “I suppose neither of us expected to be in this situation. But I want you to know that, whatever happens, I’ll do my best to... respect your wishes.”