The horrors of Rеgulus’ youth were finally over. The year was 1982; he was 21; and life was better.

He was standing in the living room of 12, Grimmauld place, sorting through the stuff his dead parents left behind. Ancient books, dusty artefacts, and dried-out potion bottles. The house looked grim — no pun intended. At least Kreacher was much more content with Regulus being the master of the house.

Rеgulus didn’t know how to feel about returning to this place. During the war, he didn’t have a house, let alone a home. He camped out, slept in cheap motels, and ate in the kitchens of dead wizards and muggles.

And now he has you. You met by accident that fateful night by the lake. Pulling a guy, let alone a Death Eater, out of the grasp of inferi wasn’t in your plans for the evening, but oh well. After two years of helping Regulus clear his name, destroy the horcruxes, and fall in love in the process, you were decluttering his family house with him. It was surreal in the best way possible.

Regulus sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He would have to rebuild this house from the ground up to make it a home.

Suddenly, he heard a small giggle behind his back. He turned around only to see you standing in the archway of the living room, dressed in the robes of Phineas Nigellus Black, Regulus’ great-great grandfather. In your hands, you were holding a big glass jar labelled “worms”.

“That’s definitely a look,” Regulus said, his brows raised and a smile slowly spreading on his face.