philophobia-the fear of falling in love
or becoming emotionally connected
to someone...
~~~
This is a story you've heard before, passed down through generations, about a young girl and a young boy who utterly despise each other.
Then, somehow, t...
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cxxxv || mother and father
When Regulus had returned to the Potter Manor after an hour of frantic searching, Maria had initially been relieved and then angry. Yet nothing had prepared her for the blood that smeared his hands, blood that was not his own. Her lips had parted in surprise and she had jumped to ask questions, only to see that he clearly didn't have it in him to answer her just yet.
Just as Regulus suspected, his pregnant girlfriend had softly took his bloodied hand in her clean one, smearing the drying crimson onto it. She'd cleaned his hands despite her own exhaustion, she'd held him as he cried and never once pried. She never once persisted that he answer the ultimate question of what happened? She knew it was bad from the moment she had seen his dishevelled eyes, she saw the battle in the storms of his eyes as though the god of thunder was on a rampage in his iris'.
To this day, Maria doesn't know exactly what happened that chilly January evening. She's sure she'll find out eventually, from Regulus or not. She's also sure that whatever it is could never come between the two. She knows it won't; nothing will. Not now. Not when they're so close to having everything they always wanted.
Over a month later, she wakes beside him, his forehead pressed against her shoulder blade as she lies awake, every position feeling overly uncomfortable. Her eyes flutter when she feels Regulus' lips, soft against the skin over her spine between her shoulder blades.
Twenty days ago, they had gotten a patronus from Stanley telling them that Alyssa had given birth to a baby boy. The pair had been to visit, Alyssa telling them that the tiny newborn boy's name is Dylan. Maria had actually shed a tear watching Stan being so fatherly, knowing he's come so far from the flippant boy who was afraid to admit his feelings to his best friend.
"You're so warm." Regulus mumbles as she turns onto her back to look at him. Her lips twitch into a small smile and she shakes her head, kissing his jaw before slowly sitting up and getting to her feet.
The purple tank top stretches over her stomach and the grey shorts hang onto her hips and Regulus grins tiredly as his eyes follow her to the bathroom.
Regulus thinks about the blood on his hands often. Not obsessively, just often. He reassured himself, telling himself that he deserved worse for the hell he put his love through. Yet there's always that one part of him, the part of him adopted from Maria over their years together, that regrets the act. Because he's no longer deemed as completely good in the eyes of Dumbledore and the ministry and the order. Perhaps this whole situation might make them think twice before they thrust children into a war that they're already losing.
"Reg!" Maria calls slowly and Regulus frowns slightly, getting up and hurrying to the doorway where Maria stands with her hands resting on the marble countertop. "Don't panic, but I'm pretty sure my water just broke."
