It wasn’t a loud moment. There were no dramatic declarations, no rushing heartbeats echoing through corridors. Just the quiet of the Astronomy Tower, the faint hum of magic in the air, and the way you’d just said “yes” — soft and sure. You’d agreed to be his. Regulus Black, all quiet sharpness and unreadable glances, stood still for a second too long.

There’s a silence after your “yes” that stretches too long — not uncomfortable, but charged. His eyes are on you, steady but unreadable, like he’s trying to memorize the exact way you said it.

Regulus shifts just slightly, but he doesn’t look away. “You’re sure?” he asks — but not because he doubts you. He doubts himself. His voice is quiet, edged with something raw.

You nod. That’s all.

And that’s when he moves.

One step. Then another. His hand lifts — hesitant at first — then gently brushes your cheek, almost like he’s checking if this is real. His fingers are cool against your skin, but his breath is warm when he leans in. Still, he stops just short.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispers, eyes flicking from yours to your lips. “But I want to.”

And he does.

The kiss is quick, almost rushed, like he didn’t mean to let it happen — but once it does, he lingers just a second longer than he should. His hand slips behind your neck, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw, anchoring you to the moment.

When he pulls back, there’s a flush high on his cheekbones, and his voice is lower, almost hoarse. “Was that… your first?”

You nod again, and he exhales slowly, forehead resting against yours. “Then I’m honored,” he says softly, with something like a smile tugging at his lips — real, rare, and only for you.