Inferius | Regulus Black

Secrets

"I hate losing," Said Regulus, laying with his head on Annabelle's lap by the Black lake, her hand ran through his hair as he stared up at her face,

Her beautiful perfect face.

The size of Regulus' deception was beginning to wear on him, pretending everything was perfect, that there was not going to be a dark mark on his arm within the next four months.

Regulus found her other hand and pressed it to his lips before holding it to his chest,

Regulus may not be able to control his own life, but he had to ensure that Annabelle knew how much he loved her.

"With the passion of a thousand suns," he added, knowing it would prompt a smile on Annabelle's face, "Thousand and one if I am really being honest with myself,"

"You caught the snitch," Said Annabelle, "Doesn't that make it at least a wee bit better?"

"That was only to end the embarrassment," Said Regulus, "I bloody hate Potter, properly,"

"Passion of a thousand suns?"

"Thousand and two."

Annabelle allowed a small laugh to pass through her lips,

"I am utterly heartbroken at my loss. Heart shattered into a million pieces," Said Regulus matter of factly,

"Whatever can I do to make you feel better, your Majesty?" Asked Annabelle, looking down at him with bright playful eyes,

I love you. I can't believe you can't see how much.

The words were written plain as day across Regulus' face as he lifted his head to connect their lips, before pulling away, and glancing at where his broom sat idle beside them,

"There is one thing." He said, looking between her and the broom,

"When books say to sweep her off her feet, this is not what they mean," Said Annabelle, as Regulus pressed his lips to hers again before pressing his forehead against hers,

"I think it is exactly what they mean." Said Regulus, pulling away, and standing up, broom in hand offering her his hand,

He would offer her his whole heart, but each time he showed her vulnerability she took such good care of him that he was certain, absolutely certain three little words would slip from her lips,

Three little words that would fill him with such devine joy and despair.

That he should be loved so completely by her and have the privilege of breaking such a heart as hers.

A forced privilege he knew would be abused the instant that mark was on his arm. Showing her who the man she loved truly was.

"Who even is this 'they'? God?" She scoffed, before a serene expression crossed her face, "That would make so much sense."

"Belle," he said, wearing the most dazzling smile, urging her to set her hand in his, "Don't you trust me?"

"I do, I do," She should not be allowed to say that, thought Regulus, put ideas in his head, "Believe me, I would swear on a bible if I could, or in your case tales of beadle the bard, you know what? We should discuss what sort of drugs that bard was on when he wrote about babbity rabbity and that cackling stump, cause in all my years as a witch I have never encountered a cackling stump once and it's very disappointing. Like when I saw my first mermai-"

"Belle,"

"I just have plans right now, your majesty, and while you are typically my sun and my moon and all that romantic crap you like so much,"