Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One

❦

Summer, 1978

There was a commotion below, sometime after midnight, and it woke Flora suddenly. She’d only drifted off for a moment. Her curtains, which she’d left open, twitched in the soft summer breeze of the still night. Welsh summers were never particularly warm, but this year had reached soaring temperatures. The air was still muggy when Flora stirred in confusion, her skin prickly with sweat. The light of the full moon spilled into the room. There was no more sound, and she found herself wondering if she'd imagined it. 

She moved only to push her school books off her bed so she could get under the cool bed sheets but was gripped with a sense of unease as she shifted her body. She opened her eyes properly, letting them adjust to the darkness of the room. She'd been dreaming of something; it was dark, sinister, something which filled her with undefined dread, and she felt it in the stillness in the room, like something watching and waiting in a corner. She stayed very still. A distinct creak on the stairs made her heart lurch horribly. It was a slow, hesitant creak, like somebody was trying hard to be quiet. 

Her parents had surely gone to bed, and it certainly wasn’t Remus. Not on a full moon. Flora pulled the sheet around herself, holding her breath to listen closer. She could feel and hear her pulse beating fast, gripped with a sudden certainty that she was about to die. She couldn’t move, insensible to all action. The footsteps continued up the stairs and moved down the hallway towards her bedroom. She hid deeper under her bedclothes, laying in dread of every second, her heart beating so hard and fast she was sure the intruder would hear it.

The door opened slowly and a small glowing light illuminated the room—a wand light.

“Flora?” A voice whispered, nervous.

Flora let out the breath she was holding and hastily threw back the covers, sitting up at once. “Sirius?”

His handsome face appeared in the dim glow of the wand light. His eyes widened and then softened with relief.

“Flora,” he rushed to her and took hold of her shoulders, looking her over quickly. “Are you alright?”

Flora noticed he was trembling. He stared at her like he wasn’t sure she was real, or more chillingly, alive. Flora was too bewildered to answer for a moment, wondering why she would not be alright, and why he didn’t turn the light on.

“Yes,” she answered distractedly, her eyes roving over his face. “Why are you here? Is Remus okay?”

Sirius blinked a moment, preoccupied with the inner whirlwind of his feelings. He looked at her softly and touched her face with platonic, brotherly affection. With the way he was constantly attached to Remus, Sirius may as well have been her brother. 

She became suddenly aware of a second presence in the doorway. Sirius calmly turned his head and greeted a bespectacled boy with black hair, who also had his wand raised with a light emitting from the end of it.

“She’s fine,” Sirius said to the boy, who quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

“We’d better take her now,” he replied, stepping further into the room with a deeply disturbed look on his face.

Flora raised her eyes to look at James Potter, a boy she had heard plenty about from Remus and Sirius, but had never met until now.

“What’s happened?” Flora asked, her confusion and fear mounting as she observed the troubled looks on their ashen faces. “Where’s my mam? My dad? Remus?"

They didn’t answer her. They began to talk between themselves in low, anxious tones about taking her somewhere. When Sirius turned to speak to her again, he took hold of her hands and squeezed them gently. “I’m going to take you to the Potter’s house, alright? His mum and dad are there. They’re kind and they’ll make sure you’re alright. You’ll have to side-along apparate with me. Have you ever done that before?”

Flora shook her head slowly. “No, but why—”

“It will feel a little uncomfortable,” Sirius cut her off, standing up. “Like a tight squeezing, but it won’t be for long.”

James regarded Sirius with uncertainty. “Are you sure you’re alright to do it, mate? Maybe we should wait until Moody or someone more senior gets here.”

“I can take her,” Sirius replied.

“I think we should wait.”

“No, it could be a while yet. We need to get her out of here and somewhere safe,” Sirius insisted firmly.

Flora felt a sudden urge to scream as the realisation dawned on her, that something truly awful had happened. Perhaps she'd anticipated it for a while, unconsciously, through snippets she'd heard in murmured voices between her parents and Remus. Conversations she was not meant to be privy to. She understood there was unrest in the wizarding world, that her brother and his friends were helping. Now something had happened. She didn’t realise she was screaming until she felt Sirius’ arms around her, his voice trying to soothe her. She crumbled into hysterics, begging an explanation and fighting against him in order to flee the room and find out what it was for herself. Sirius held her fast, gripping her shoulders and looking to James for help. He looked just as lost as Sirius. They needed Remus. Flora knew as well as they did that she needed her big brother.

“Flora, Flo, please,” Sirius pleaded, “Calm down. Please calm down.”

“What’s happened? Tell me right now!” She sobbed wildly. At only fifteen years old, nothing terrible had ever happened in her life. She studied and worked hard at school, went to the pictures sometimes, read books. Bad things didn't happen to her. She was the 'normal' child, the one who sorely wished sometimes that she was magic like her older brother just so interesting things would happen. Now suddenly she didn't want it. 

“Please,” Sirius tried again, speaking calmly. “Let me take you to the Potters. I’ll explain things there, I swear.”

“Is Remus there?” She asked hopefully, knowing it was a silly question. “And my mam and dad?”

Sirius shook his head. James hesitantly stepped closer and knelt down in front of Flora, looking at her. “We will explain everything shortly,” he said with solemn eyes. “But right now, you need to leave. It isn’t safe here.”

“Why isn’t it safe?” Flora asked with wide, tearful eyes. “This is my house.”

“Let us take you to my parent’s house. Everything will be alright.”

Sirius was able to ease Flora to her feet, rubbing her back in a useless effort to calm her down. In only her nightie, she was swiftly removed from her quiet home to face the worst news she could possibly imagine.

❦

Autumn, 1980

Flora stood at the kitchen sink, yawning and contemplating an early night with a warm drink and the new book she wanted to start. Darkness had gathered around the little stone cottage, summoning the owls that Flora presently heard hooting in the surrounding blackness of the trees. She scratched the side of her head and pushed a loose piece of hair behind her ear, splashing bubbles on her cheek as she did so.

Her days were slow: peaceful, mundane. She wondered when her brother would arrive — if he would arrive. He’d promised he would, but Order meetings often kept him late or away altogether. She tried hard to stay up on the nights he promised to come back, the nights he brought fresh food and provisions and the occasional gift to lift her spirits, but quite often she would secede waiting and go to bed. In the morning she would find that everything she needed had been restocked in the night, like some elf or fairy had been. He did not usually stay. But tonight, Flora so terribly wanted to talk to him, to see someone, anyone, and so she fought back the temptation of an early night. For someone who was only seventeen, going to bed each night with only the company of one’s inner voice was a dreadful thing. It made Flora feel like an old woman who had already lived the excitement of youth, and yet Flora had yet to experience it.

A long shadow outside caught Flora’s eye and she lifted her head to peer out. Her heart lifted the moment she recognised the tall, wiry figure of her brother at the ancient stone gatepost with his wand illuminating the darkness. She drew back from the old sink, shook her hands dry of water and bubbles, and rushed across the kitchen to the door. Without slippers and in only her pyjamas, she ran outside and down the path. It was dark and wet outside, but she hadn’t been out of the house all day and liked the cool, late summer air on her face as she hurried to meet her brother. It braced her, filling her lungs with the scent of damp moss and earth.

“Remus,” she half walked on the tips of her toes over the dirt path, careful to avoid treading on any sharp stones. She lifted her eyes and noticed there was a second person with him. Not that that was unusual. Sirius Black went wherever Remus went, like a pair. Sirius gave Flora his typical charming smile, a smile that admittedly always made Flora blush just a little too much, as he walked beside Remus. The young man was almost dwarfed by the latter’s height. Half a dozen shopping bags of food floated a little way behind them.

“Where are your shoes? Go back inside,” Remus said as he fixed his eyes on his younger sister.

“I’ve been inside all day. Did you get everything on my list?” She asked in a rush.

He shrugged his thin shoulders. “Most of it, I think. Sirius lost the list before we got there.”

Flora’s eyes sharply darted to Sirius, who quickly sought to defend himself. “It's fine. I’ve got a good memory.”

Remus snorted lightly. They all walked into the little cottage. It was a venerable, white-washed stone building with two ground-floor rooms and four upper rooms, rooms which had been added to over the years. The building itself was at least three hundred years old and had changed relatively little as far as anyone could guess.

Wales was an ancient land. There might have been an older building on the location of the present one, and the magic was heavy here, heavy enough that even Flora could sometimes instinctively feel it. It was not uncommon for her to go walking in the forest and stumble across fairy rings, which she was careful to avoid stepping in. As a child, if she listened very closely at night, she was sure she could hear the soft tinkle of music outside. Remus told her it was the elves, though Flora had never quite believed him, thinking he was winding her up because he was magic and she was not. But then her mother — their mother, who was a muggle — confirmed it to be true and so Flora believed. They were half-siblings, Flora and Remus, but close enough in age and upbringing to consider themselves full siblings. It didn’t matter that Flora wasn’t a witch. Frankly, Flora didn’t mind so much anymore, not with everything going on. 

The cottage was firmly situated amongst the rolling green hills, overlooking the granite coastline of North Wales and little seaside town far below. The wizened old cottage was also heavily warded with protective and defensive charms, charms which protected its singular occupant. Remus said to protect, but to Flora, it felt like imprisonment. Worse still, she was almost always alone. The siblings had nobody but themselves to rely on, and increasingly Remus was unable to visit his younger sister. It was too dangerous, he said. Reports of werewolves in nearby towns and villages were becoming worryingly more common. He came now more out of necessity to deliver food and shopping and take a list of anything she needed or wanted. Today he had gone overboard, Flora thought, probably due to Sirius losing her carefully written list. But it quickly struck Flora as curious—there was too much food here for just one person.

“Right… bread, milk, eggs,” Remus began to empty the shopping bags onto the large kitchen table, which Flora sat down at and watched. He placed three loaves of bread down, two boxes of a dozen eggs, three pints of milk. “Jam… soup… uh, got you lots of fruit this time…chocolate…”

Flora studied him with a small frown, her chin resting in her hands. “Why’ve you got so much of everything?” She half exclaimed. “Half of this will expire by the time I get round to using it.”

Remus and Sirius shared a very brief, but tense look. It was a look that Flora caught immediately and it caused her to sit up straighter.

“What is it? Tell me now,” she demanded. Her soft Welsh accent lilted up and down as she spoke, which somewhat diminished the vexation in her tone.

Sirius smiled at her, speaking quickly in an attempt to distract her. “Shall we have a cup of tea?”

He flicked his wand at the kettle across the room and it began to heat up. Flora sat back in the wooden kitchen chair and folded her arms, eyeing them both with suspicion. Remus looked distinctly uncomfortable. He ran his hand through his thick fluffy hair and sighed through his nose quietly while Sirius busied himself with the tea. Sirius liked making tea. In fact, he enjoyed doing a lot of mundane household tasks (magic or no magic) simply because he never got to do it as a child. His absolute favourite was the microwave, which seemed to endlessly fascinate him no matter how many times he used it. He lived in a small flat with Remus in the muggle side of London, which Flora had only visited once.

Remus sat down opposite his sister. There was just a few years difference in age between them, but Remus always treated Flora like she was much younger. Since their parent's death, he had dutifully taken on a paternal role for his sister. 

“Remember I told you before that things are getting more dangerous out there?” He began.

“No,” Flora replied dryly. “Tell me again."

Remus gave her a steady, stern look. “Flo.”

“Does bringing extra food make it less dangerous?”

Remus decided to ignore her sarcasm, continuing to speak levelly. Flora always thought he would make a very good teacher when he started talking like this.

“Well, every time I come here it does get a little more dangerous than the last.”

“Why’d you keep coming back then?”

“Flora,” Remus huffed, beginning to lose his patience. “Would you please be serious for a minute.” Flora glanced at Sirius, but he was fixated on making the tea with a faraway look on his face and clearly in no mood for jokes.

“I need to explain something to you—ask something of you, actually,” Remus went on.

“Me?” She frowned. “Why? What?”

“Well, I do really,” Sirius suddenly came to life, straightening up and looking over his shoulder. His face remained neutral, controlled. Flora waited, confused.

“Let me explain something first,” Remus looked at Sirius, “Before we get to that part.”

Sirius shrugged and resumed making the tea. Remus turned back to his sister, his face set and grim.

“The werewolves—”

Flora sighed heavily and turned her head away, not letting him get halfway through his sentence. “Not the werewolves again. I've not heard or seen anything."

“Flora, would you be quiet for five minutes,” Remus snapped with a deepening frown. He leaned forward across the table. “Just listen. Werewolf attacks have been reported close to this area. They’re getting closer and I’m seriously worried they’re looking for you specifically.”

“Why would they?” Flora replied, feigning an air of indifference. But her skin prickled slightly at this awful suggestion. That awful night was recalled back to her memory. She dreamt about it sometimes, only her dreams filled in the horrors she’d never witnessed. Remus had never told her what really happened, perhaps to spare her the thought of how their parents died, but in her heart she knew. 

“Because they’re also after me. I’ve told you this before. Greyback wants me to join his—his pack. The Order believes that they believe hurting or kidnapping you would give them leverage. I’ve spent one full moon with them, but they don’t trust me. This isn’t just about protecting you as a just-in-case precaution, it’s crucial now that you stay put while I do what I need to do.”

Flora felt indignant at this. “I already do stay put! Where am I going to go?"

“You’ve left the wards several times. I know you go down to the beach, to the shops."

”I’m not likely to be attacked by a werewolf in broad daylight,” Flora said moodily. 

”No,” Remus agreed, “but there are spies around. Someone could still easily grab you, daylight or not. I need you to stay here.” 

“But it’s boring!”

”It’s safe.” 

“Flora, listen,” Sirius began now in support of Remus. He brought over their cups of tea and sat down next to Remus. “You can’t leave.”

“So you’ve brought me all this extra food to prevent me from going anywhere? Half that bread will go mouldy before I get to open it.”

“No,” Remus rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, stretching his long fingers out and burying them in his hairline. “No, that’s not it.”

“This is the second surprise,” Sirius said as he sipped his tea. He glanced again at Remus, who was now rubbing his eyelids with the heel of his palm. When Remus lowered his hands, his eyes were a little watery and red from the pressure of his hand. He looked suddenly very tired, older than his twenty-one years. 

“The other thing…” Remus started. His eyes met Sirius’ eyes.

“It’s my brother,” Sirius blurted out quickly.

Flora blinked. “Brother?”

“Yes, my younger brother.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“That’s because he’s a little prick. We don’t talk about him. He's, um, he was on the—you know, the other side of things. A Death Eater.”

Remus sighed heavily. Flora noticed he was gripping his cup of tea very tightly as Sirius struggled to explain whatever it was he was trying to explain. And this was odd because Sirius was never lost for words. He was always so sure of himself.

“A Death Eater,” Flora repeated when Sirius trailed off, prompting him to continue.

“Yeah, uh… well, ex-Death Eater I suppose now,” Sirius coughed softly to clear his throat. He swallowed thickly and his Adam’s apple bobbed noticeably in his throat. “He abandoned it all and came to find me. He’s hurt. Badly hurt. I still don’t fully know what happened to him because he won’t tell me. I thought maybe You-Know-Who had done something to him. But he's talking, giving us information that is useful to the Order, and so far it's been accurate, reliable."

Flora nodded slowly, keeping her large eyes fixed on the two young men. “Okay…”

“He’s not safe where he is,” Sirius continued. “We’re hiding him in our flat at the moment, but he can’t stay there.”

Flora was not stupid, and the realisation of what he was trying to ask hit her very quickly. But she held back, not speaking, and she waited for the horror of the situation to descend.

“Just to be clear,” Remus spoke up in a low, glum voice, “I don’t want this. I wish this wasn’t happening at all and I’m sorry.”

“Are you going to tell me that you’ve invited a Death Eater to come and live with me?” Flora demanded now, her voice growing increasingly higher as panic set in. She looked to her brother for help, but he was looking down obstinately at the table.

“Ex-Death Eater,” Sirius quickly corrected.

Flora glowered. “Oh, that's alright then."

“He won’t hurt you,” Sirius floundered. “I trust him.”

Flora scoffed, folding her arms across her chest.

“Please, just listen to me” he pleaded. Remus was clearly sitting out on the discussion, having known exactly how his sister would react. It was down to Sirius to convince her, and so far he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“He won’t have access to his wand,” he continued. “He won’t be able to do any magic."

“So he is dangerous?”

“No, it’s just…” Sirius rubbed his face now. “He’s not dangerous. Not really—”

“Not really?”

“Fuck’s sake,” Remus muttered with another very heavy sigh. “Let me explain it to her.”

“I wish one of you would,” Flora snapped in irritation. 

“I was against it too, okay?” Remus began calmly. “I still am. I don’t like him but he’s been fairly reliable so far. He’ll be killed if he’s found. By the look of things, he nearly was killed."

Sirius’ face had grown rather pinched. He held his chin in his hand and frowned down at his mostly untouched cup of tea. His whole body, which he usually held in a careless, relaxed way, was now very tense and hunched.

“I just want him to be safe,” Sirius murmured without raising his eyes.

Flora was quiet for a long moment, glaring at the two of them. “So the extra food,” she began after a minute, “That’s for him?”

“I’m sorry we didn’t ask you first, Flo,” Remus answered softly. “We need to move him quickly though. It probably won’t be for long, mind. The Order will eventually find somewhere more permanent for him to go, maybe. But he’s not exactly their priority right now. He’s just a runaway, at the end of the day.”

“More like an escaped lunatic," Flora said indignantly. "I don’t want him here. I’m telling you no.”

“Flora, please,” Sirius looked up now. His soft eyes were huge and desperate. “I’ll be the first to admit he’s an insufferable little prick. He has his ridiculous airs and prejudices, but I swear he won’t hurt you. I wouldn’t have asked if I thought for even a moment that he would harm a hair on your head. Maybe it’s stupid, but I truly believe he can change. He just needs the chance.”

Flora sat back, halfway defeated. She found it very challenging to argue when Sirius was looking at her with eyes like that, and it did not help that she’d had a foolishly desperate crush on him since she was eleven. She knew she would cave the moment he asked. She reasoned she could handle a rude houseguest — she’d helped at the village pub when she was fourteen during the summer holidays — but she wasn’t so keen on her houseguest being a dark wizard who openly hated muggles. This would be odious, but she couldn’t deny Sirius anything.

“We already broached the subject with him,” Sirius went on when she didn’t respond. “We’ve made it very clear that he has to behave himself.”

“How long will it be for?”

Sirius shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. If he becomes too much to deal with, we’ll take him back to the flat until we can find another arrangement.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘too much to deal with’?" She questioned carefully.

“Exactly what I said before. He’s a prick. I’m going to be completely honest with you, he will likely treat you with a lot of disdain because you’re a muggle. But whatever he says, take no notice. Just tell me and I'll sort the little bastard out."

“So he’ll just be rude?”

“At best, yes.”

“What about at worst?”

Sirius drummed his fingers on the table top. “He can be hateful.”

Remus sat up a little, as though a thought had just occurred to him. He touched Sirius’ arm lightly and shook his head, “Let’s not do this. We can find somewhere else for him to go. Why destroy her peace? She doesn’t need to know what people like him think of her.”

Sirius’ face dropped slightly. He looked a lot like a small child who had just been told no. Flora watched them curiously, feeling an odd swelling in her heart as she observed the pain and anxiety in Sirius’ eyes. Besides that, she was undeniably interested in doing something other than sitting around the house reading novels. When Flora had said life was boring, she meant she felt she was fading into the wings, always waiting, stagnant. She was so bored, lonely, and she resented her brother more and more everyday for keeping her here.

“Where’s he going to go, Moony?” Sirius was speaking in a low murmur to Remus. "He's not safe."

“We’ll find somewhere,” Remus replied with little certainty in his voice. “I promise.”

“He’ll be killed,” Sirius hissed. “They’ll find him.”

“They won’t.”

“One week,” Flora spoke up quietly, barely believing her own words as they left her mouth. She couldn't bear witnessing this. She didn’t have it in her to be cruel, and right now she felt cruel if she said no. “If he can behave himself for one week, he can stay.”

“Flo, you don’t have to—” Remus began hesitantly.

Sirius’ eyes lit up with new-founded hope though. “One week?” he replied quickly, latching to her words.

Flora nodded slowly. Her heart felt heavy but she couldn’t go back now. One week was fair, she reasoned. It wasn’t such a long time. And if Sirius’s brother turned out to be alright, then perhaps she would have a friend to fill her time with. As he was younger than Sirius, she assumed he must be her age. Either way, she reasoned, she had quite literally nothing to lose in letting him stay.

“One week. Okay,” Sirius nodded eagerly, “and we’ll visit every morning and evening to check how he gets on.”

Remus frowned. “I don’t think we can do that.”

“Well, I will anyway,” Sirius said. He then leaned across the table and clasped hold of Flora’s small hand. “Thank you. Thank you,” he whispered with great sincerity.

Flora coloured with pleasure, smiling a little in spite of herself as she relished in his joy and relief — joy and relief she had given. She knew her actions weren’t motivated out of any concern for his brother. Her motivation was purely for Sirius and herself.

“What’s his name anyway?” Flora asked, realising she’d never considered it.

“Regulus.”

“Of course it is,” she rolled her eyes gently and shook her head.

Sirius smiled, still grasping her hand in his tightly. He then kissed her hand, just like a knight in storybooks, placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles. Flora blushed to her ears and looked away, mortified and thrilled. And that was that. Regulus Black would be arriving the very next day.

Chapter Text

Two

❦

Flora awoke early the next day. This in itself was highly unusual because Flora never woke any earlier than ten in the morning, and usually didn't get up until half past. More recently, her lie-ins had become as late as noon simply because she had so little to do with her days. But today she woke early at seven and did not remain in bed for very long.

She stared at the beamed ceiling for several minutes, listening to the birds outside, thinking and wondering about Regulus Black. Guiltily, she wondered whether he would be as handsome as Sirius. He'd be here soon. Remus said first thing tomorrow morning, which was of course dependent on when those two woke up first. Like her, neither of them were early-risers, but she imagined they were anxious to dump Regulus here as quickly as possible. It would surely be soon.

Flora sat up and stretched a little, releasing the tension in her lower back and hips. She was wearing a rather frilly nylon babydoll set and wondered if she should change now before going downstairs. She did not want Sirius, and most especially Regulus, to see her in such a thing. She still flushed at the memory of Sirius ruffling her hair last year and giving her a little once-over with an "aw," when she happened to walk downstairs in her babydoll pyjamas to fetch a glass of water. She'd hoped he would find them sexy, but was quickly defeated and had thus pushed the memory to the back of her mind.

So Flora, though hungry and desperate for a cup of tea, left her room and headed for the bathroom to shower and dress before she dared venture downstairs.

Sirius had told her before he left that Regulus was only a little older than her, barely a year older. That wasn't much, but she worried this would add to his immediate dislike of her if he perceived her as silly and young in addition to being a muggle. She sat down at the kitchen table with a bowl of cornflakes and a cup of tea as she thought about this, frowning to herself. She shouldn't have agreed to this, it was foolish. Even a week may prove too much if he really was as hateful as she'd been told. It would be like locking a wolf in with the sheep — an ironic comparison, she thought, considering her brother's condition. But he'd never hurt her. This boy might.

"Flo! Flo! Flora!" A muffled voice in the adjoining room caught her attention. Remus' voice was calling her from the two-way mirror, which she'd left on the sofa and had fallen down the back of a cushion somewhere.

Flora hurried into the room, at once daring to hope plans had changed and he wasn't bringing him after all. She threw several cushions to the floor, searching hurriedly for the mirror.

"I'm here," Flora found the mirror, nearly dropping it. "Here."

Her brother's face came into view. His hair just about filled the entire frame and he was rubbing sleep out of his eyes. The scar across his nose and cheek was standing out quite prominently in the morning light.

"Sorry, overslept," he said in a fatigued voice. "You still okay with everything?"

Flora felt a little irritated by this, wondering why he was so calm he'd managed to sleep in when she'd been up since seven, and had slept little besides that.

"Is it too late for me to change my mind?"

Remus paused a moment. A flicker of worry clouded his deep brown eyes. “No, I suppose not."

Flora breathed out heavily. "It's fine. Just bring him and get it over with. I can't stand this waiting."

Remus suddenly turned upside down. A hand came over the mirror and Sirius' handsome face was looking back at her imploringly. Even though she could momentarily see up his nose, Flora couldn't help but admire his pretty face in that split second.

"Flora, is it okay still? We're going to bring him now."

"Fine," she grumbled. "Hurry up."

His face disappeared as the mirror was probably dropped into his pocket. Flora put her side of the mirror down and sat fidgeting for a moment. Her heart was thudding horribly. They would be here in moments but she didn't know whether to stay put, wait outside, or pretend to be busy with something. She distractedly picked up her knitting, which was laid to one side, studied the stitches, and then put it down again; she stood up, walked to the window, looked outside, and then walked back into the kitchen. Her cereal dish was still on the table so she picked it up and began to rinse it in the sink.

The cottage was clean, tidy, albeit a little cluttered. She found herself hoping that Regulus would like the cottage, for surely it was better than the one-bedroom flat her brother and Sirius lived in. The boy had probably been sleeping on the lumpy, secondhand sofa. Here he would have his own room — Remus' old bedroom, which had been agreed upon and arranged last night. Remus had that room ready in moments, dusted and refreshed with just a flick of his wand. Flora hadn't had to do anything yet.

And then she heard them. They'd no doubt apparated, but they would have arrived a little way down the lane out of the bounds of the magical wards. She heard the old wooden gate creak open. She looked back up out of the wide kitchen window and saw first her brother, who towered above them all, with Sirius beside him, flanked by a scowling boy with hair a little darker than Sirius' hair. Flora moved from the kitchen window to the door, opening it just as they approached. She noticed now that it had been raining again; the mossy flagstones were wet and the drainpipe was dripping overhead. Remus gave his little sister a nervous smile.

"Morning... you look very pretty."

"Trying to butter her up?" Sirius said. Despite his anxiety, his eyes lit up and he began to laugh at his own joke. "Get it? Butter her up. The Flora butter."

"Yes, hilarious, Sirius," Remus sighed, as though he'd been hearing bad jokes all morning. Sirius often tried to be humorous when he was nervous. 

Flora gave Sirius a weak smile and stepped aside to let them in. There was only a very small entrance space before it opened into the kitchen, so Flora moved back into the room and stood by the table. For the first time, she had a good view of Regulus. If he hadn't been scowling, he might have looked handsome, although there was no denying he was. He had the same high cheekbones and sharp jawline as Sirius, but he looked somewhat sickly. His face was pale, drawn, and his hair framed his face in wavy dark tangles. 

There was something both immediately chilling and alluring in the boy; his steely gaze took in the room with an undisguised look of disdain. His eyes wouldn't even grace the sight of Flora, who stood in wait of his acknowledgment. Sirius grabbed his younger brother's thin arm and dragged him forward, forcing him to stand just a foot in front of Flora.

"Flora, this is my little brother, Regulus," Sirius said. "Reg, this is Flora we told you about. Say hello."

Flora managed a small hello and tried to smile, but Regulus didn't say a word. He raised his eyes to meet hers, causing Flora to shrink under his gaze, at once intimidated by the unbridled hate and disgust in his unpleasant glare. He looked down at her, eyeing her from head to toe critically, then abruptly looked away with arrogance and scorn.

Sirius smacked Regulus across the back of the head. "Say hello, dickhead."

Regulus remained stubbornly silent for a moment and scowled at Sirius in outrage. He then reluctantly moved his eyes back to Flora and said, with a stiff nod and in a tight-lipped voice, "Hello."

Flora looked over at her brother leaning against the kitchen sink, who looked back at her apologetically, obviously unimpressed with the way Regulus was treating his sister. Regulus, now he had spoken, was staring at Flora, studying her closely like she was a specimen on a lab table. Sirius cleared his throat to speak.

"Remember what I said, Reg," he spoke with a slightly darker tone. "She can contact me or Remus in seconds. Don't think we won't know if you're being a dick. You should be grateful she's letting you stay."

Regulus scoffed at this and looked at his brother. "Grateful? I'd rather stay with you two queers than live with a muggle." He spoke with a very stiff, haughty upper-class accent. Sirius was posh too, only he didn't sound quite so arrogant when he spoke.

"Don't fucking start," Sirius hissed under his breath.

Flora blinked, observing the exchange quietly. Her eyes flickered back to Remus questioningly.

"Why don't we show him around?" Remus suggested quickly.

"Show me around what, exactly?" Regulus replied scornfully. "There's probably only two rooms and a hole outside."

"You'll sleep outside if you don't watch your mouth," Sirius warned him, gripping his brother's arm roughly. He then turned his attention back to Flora, smiling benignly again, like he hadn't just aggressively threatened his little brother, and released Regulus from his vice grip.

"Would you like to take the lead, Flora?"

Flora had drawn back to her brother though, her arms folded across herself with uncertainty. "I'd rather not..." she mumbled nervously, looking down.

"I'll show him his room then," Sirius replied in understanding. "Come on, this way, idiot," he muttered to Regulus, who followed his elder brother sullenly. He held himself very stiffly, like he was trying not to touch anything he passed. 

As they disappeared upstairs, Flora turned to Remus with wide, panic-stricken eyes. She spoke in Welsh, not wanting to risk Sirius overhearing. "I don't want him here, Remus. I don't. He'll kill me," she said in a rush, her voice trembling.

"Gwrandewch," he said this word in Welsh, but continued in English, "He's a massive prick, but he won't hurt you. He just needs some time to adjust to the muggle world. Sirius and I will keep a very close eye on him."

"How do you know he won't hurt me?" Flora kept to Welsh. She could hear Sirius above them, the floor creaking, his voice going on in an explanatory way.

Remus, ever calm and reasonable, tried to ease her worries. As Flora insisted on speaking Welsh, which Remus rarely spoke these days, he replied to her in an uncertain mix of Welsh and English. "He knows he's not in a position to cause trouble here. If he draws any attention or tries to harm you, that's him gone and handed over to the authorities. He's been warned very clearly and will be watched very closely."

"He looked at me like I was dirt on his shoe," Flora said sullenly, looking down at the floor.

"And that's the worst he will do. He's the same with me. Just ignore him."

Flora still looked unconvinced, so Remus continued, "I've known Regulus since he was eleven, and Sirius has told me a lot about him. Regulus used to cry when he found dead mice in traps. He was also very afraid of the dark until he was thirteen. Believe me, he may act like he's high and mighty, but he's really just a scared little boy. If anyone is scared here, it's him. You have an advantage over him. He doesn't understand the muggle world and he's in danger if he stays in the wizarding world."

This somewhat eased Flora's fears at that moment. She came closer and buried her head against Remus' shoulder, sighing deeply. Sirius and Regulus were now coming back downstairs, as there was not much to show Regulus. He needed only a room and to know where things were. The latter looked at Flora oddly; it wasn't exactly a glare this time, but still a look of aversion. Flora looked back at him and noticed that Remus was right: the boy looked terribly out of place, like he didn't know what to do with himself. He was wearing Sirius' clothes by the look of it too — a long-sleeved, olive jumper and black jeans. Muggle clothes. Regulus tried to hold himself with dignity but instead looked increasingly uncertain of himself. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, far away from Flora and far away from any offensive, untrustworthy muggle contraption.

"Okay, Flora,” Sirius began a little nervously. "Remus and I are going to go for a few hours. We’ve got a few things we need to do.”

Flora opened her mouth to argue, but Sirius quickly continued, "Just a few hours. We'll come back to see how you're getting on."

"Getting on?" Flora exclaimed indignantly, swapping back to English and moving away from Remus. "It's not a play-date."

Regulus' lips twitched slightly at this, privately and silently agreeing with the outrage of being left together. It came as a surprise to everyone when Regulus suddenly spoke. He straightened up, holding his arms behind his back with the air of an aristocratic gentleman — which, Flora supposed, he was.

"I will not harm the muggle," he said calmly, his tone cold and detached like he was talking about some sort of disgusting insect. He didn't look at Flora as he said this. "I will go upstairs and I plan to stay there until you return. I have no desire to interact with a muggle."

He hadn't looked at her until the last part, in which he shot her a scathing look. Flora felt her blood boiling, outraged by his sheer arrogance.

"Good, cer i grafu,” Flora snapped back scornfully, "It'll save me from having to look at your sour face."

Remus smirked a little, pleased to see her fear dissipating. She had told him literally to “go and scratch.” Neither Sirius nor Regulus understood the meaning of what she had said in Welsh, but the snarl with which she said it indicated she was not telling Regulus to make himself at home. Regulus’ expression changed slightly, shifting from a haughty glare to a perplexed frown.

Remus turned to her, speaking in low tones as he made sure she had everything she needed and reassuring her he would be here in a moment if Regulus misbehaved. With this exchange done, both sets of siblings finally parted. Sirius gave his brother one last look of warning and he left the cottage with Remus.

Chapter Text

Three

❦

Flora walked down to the edge of the garden with Sirius and Remus to bid them a miserable, reluctant goodbye. Regulus remained inside and he remained there in the kitchen until Flora returned, inspecting his new surroundings warily. He was somewhat familiar already with the microwave and electric kettle, as Sirius and Remus had these in their flat, but he certainly didn't know how to use them. Thus, when Flora returned only a minute later, it was to discover Regulus fiddling with the dial on the microwave.

She stopped short in the doorway, surprised he hadn't yet gone upstairs like he'd said he would. She shut the door and looked at him askance. "What are you doing?"

Regulus turned with a mildly irritated expression on his face. "What?"

He spoke sharply, as if offended she would dare address him. His sharp eyes tracked over her face, down to her feet, then back to her face again. It was as if he were making an inventory of her, checking she had the same number of limbs as him, searching for some obvious difference between themselves.

"What are you doing?" Flora repeated steadily, trying to sound braver than she truly felt. "I thought you were going to sulk upstairs."

"I can do what I like," he returned stiffly. "Go away."

Flora bristled at this and walked further into the room. "This is my house. You don't tell me what to do."

"It's just you here?" He asked with a frown.

"I thought that might be obvious."

He glared. "I shouldn't be surprised. My brother and that fag don't have a servant either."

Flora was not an angry person by nature, though she did admittedly have the same quick temper as Remus, but it took a lot to set her off. This unpleasant, provoking boy left her feeling affronted in a way she had never before experienced. Her anger rose at once.

"I beg your pardon?" She demanded stormily.

"That was my reaction too," he drawled, as if not hearing her anger. He turned back to her microwave to twirl the dials again with his long fingers. "Not having a servant. It's positively absurd."

"What did you just call my brother?"

Regulus ignored her. He turned his attention to the beige and brown kettle and pressed down on the button, watching it as it began to heat up and hiss. Flora strode over, flicked the button off and squared up on him; her height was diminished next to him, but this sudden movement still made Regulus take an abrupt step back like she was a wasp coming at him with a stinger. He stared at her with unmasked contempt.

"What did you just say?" She asked again, incensed.

"What?" He scowled.

"My brother—what did you call him?"

"I'll not repeat myself to you," he snarled back, his voice laced with contempt.

Flora's eyes flashed furiously. She was angry and quite suddenly felt like she wanted to cry, hating that she'd agreed to this, hating that she'd been weak enough to give in to Sirius all because he given her cloying looks and pouts, and foolish enough to think having him here would make any positive difference in her life. The boy had only been here ten minutes and she had had enough of him. There was no way this would last the day, she thought, let alone a week; as soon as Remus and Sirius came back, she'd tell them. She'd tell them she'd changed her mind and they'd have to find somewhere else for him to go. Frankly, she didn't care anymore.

Regulus moved his way around the kitchen table, his movements as graceful as a cat, and made a beeline for the sitting room. Flora's chest heaved and she angrily followed. The sitting room was crowded with mismatched armchairs, a long sofa, and heaps of books. A large, rather crooked fireplace centred the room; as Flora had not yet lit it, the room was chilly.

"Now what are you—" she started.

"Oh, you have one of those boxes too."

"Yes," she snapped, following the direction of his eyes. "It's called a television."

His critical, hard gaze moved across the room and fixed upon the record player next, then at the books stacked untidily on shelves and anywhere else Flora could fit them. That odd scowl darkened his brow again. It was a questioning sort of look.

"Are those yours?" He pointed to the piles of books stacked by an armchair. A large shelf occupied a quarter of the room and it was clearly not enough for all the books Flora owned. 

"Yes," she replied, folding her arms.

He looked at her directly now, his frown deepening. "You can read?"

Flora stared for a moment, blinking, then recovered and fixed her eyes on him sharply. "If you are just going to stand here and insult me all day, you can go back to London with Sirius and Remus. It's no skin off my nose if anything happens to you."

He narrowed his eyes on her. "I wasn't insulting you. I was asking a question."

"Do you really take me for an idiot?"

"Is that a serious question?"

Flora stared up at him, incredulous. "Go upstairs!" She finally exploded.

A small smirk pulled at his lips as he stared down at her. "You do have the most interesting little tantrums."

Flora wanted to strangle him. "Tantrums?"

"Yes, tantrums," he replied coolly. "It's quite funny. You're all just like little children, aren't you? Muggles, I mean.”

Flora wasn’t sure how to deal with someone like him. She’d met plenty of wizards and witches outside of Remus and Sirius—she’d got to know James and Lily fairly well after her parents died, and by extension knew James’s parents from the time she stayed at their house. Barring Lily, none of them understood her way of life; they tried and wanted to understand her though. As such, she’d heard many ridiculous things, many misguided assumptions about muggles, but no one had ever insulted her the way Regulus just had.

She therefore found herself unsure of what else to threaten him with, so all she finally countered with was, "I'll tell my brother."

"Oh, no," he replied sarcastically, "Not your brother."

“I’ll tell your brother,” she tried again.

Unaffected, he drifted over to her record player next and lifted the lid and then the arm in one smooth movement. The deck and record began to spin but he didn't drop the needle. He just watched the record spin noiselessly.

Flora's eyes were fixated on his hands and beautiful, long fingers. He was impossibly handsome, she thought suddenly. She observed the shape of his face, which was in profile to her at present, noticing his strong, angular jaw and his deep, clear-cut cheekbones. He was too handsome. And clearly he knew it. Perhaps it was the arrogance of his beauty that made her hate him more. It was at this point she assailed upon his fiddling with the record player and pushed his hand away from it. She didn't care if she nearly broke it—Remus could fix it in seconds —she just did not want him touching her things. As she shooed his hand away, her own hand brushed his and Regulus drew back sharply like she had burned him. His eyes flashed dangerously.

"Touch me again and see what happens, you filthy muggle," he said. His voice was full of venomous, unbridled hatred, but he spoke in an even tone. It was too calm and for a moment it scared Flora.

But Flora straightened up, refusing to let herself be frightened by this boy. Because really that's all he was. Just a boy.

"Or what?" She challenged.

His surprise was obvious as she stood her ground. He blinked a few times, looking at her as he considered his next move. Flora was not very tall, or at least compared to Regulus she was not tall, as he completely towered over her; he stared fixedly at her face, enraged by the sheer audacity of this small muggle girl.

"Go on," she prompted when he still didn't answer. "Or what? You don't even have a wand."

"I don't need a wand," he spat back. "I don't need it to deal with a little girl like you."

He obviously wanted to say something to terrify her, to make her back down and respect him as the superior, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he settled for glowering at her like a shadowy spectre. This still didn't appear to have the effect he'd hoped for. Flora clearly was not afraid, or was otherwise doing a very good job of hiding it.

"If you do anything to me, you know exactly what will happen."

Regulus stiffened. "They don't scare me."

“It’s not them you need to be scared of,” she replied meaningfully. “Or maybe you should be, I don’t know. Sirius said he’d hex your bollocks off if you touch a hair on my head.”

Regulus scoffed derisively. ”I'm sure my manhood is perfectly safe, thank you very much."

"Probably because you don't have any to hex."

His jaw clenched at this, half surprised she was still arguing with him, and so boldly. "I think if you asked any girl who's seen them, they would most certainly disagree

"Disagree with me or not, it doesn't matter. They probably weren't impressed."

Regulus cast her an icy glare. "Watch your tone, muggle."

"It's Flora."

"What?" He frowned.

"My name, idiot."

"What a stupid name," he countered weakly, trying to maintain his composure.

"No stupider than Regulus."

"You're literally called Flower."

"It's the name of the Roman goddess of flowers, actually," Flora replied with a little sniff. She liked her name and wasn't going to let anyone insult it.

Regulus sneered. "How utterly fitting. As shallow and pretty as a flower, and just as dim, it seems."

Flora raised an eyebrow at this. ”Pretty?"

"Pretty in the same way that an empty vase could be pretty," he recovered quickly. "Don't mistake my insult for a compliment."

"Right," she smirked. 

Regulus stared at her for a moment, scowling darkly. Flora was pretty and he direly resented it; he'd have preferred her to look like a bridge troll, so at least it would fit with his mental image of a muggle. Desirous to change the subject, he fell back to criticising her instead. "Do you realise how irritating you are?"

"Do you?"

"And I don't like you," he went on, ignoring her. 

"The feeling is incredibly mutual."

"Then it seems we can agree on something," he returned curtly. He was standing over her like a dark storm cloud and took a step back when he realised they were almost less than a foot apart. "Why am I even talking to you? You're not worth my breath."

"Go away then," Flora replied dismissively. "I'm not stopping you."

Regulus seemed to consider this but then paused a moment. "When is my brother coming back?" He asked.

"How should I know? You were there too. Go upstairs and leave me alone until he gets here," Flora said as she turned and went back into the kitchen. Regulus followed like a shadow, his brow still furrowed in irritation.

"What am I supposed to do until he gets back?" He asked contemptuously.

"Oh, I wouldn't presume to tell you how to use your time," Flora retorted without looking at him. "Why don't you go read one of those books? They're collecting dust. You know, because I can't read them."

"Muggle books?" he sneered. "What good are they to me?"

"They'd get you out of my way while I bake," she said, reaching down to a lower cupboard where Regulus happened to be standing. It was the first thing that occurred to her. Baking. She was desirous to prove that she wasn’t going to let him interfere with her life, that this was her house and he was a guest.

He moved back even further, watching her. A look of uncomfortable realisation crept across his face. He watched as she opened the cupboards and took out a large mixing bowl and weighing scales.

"Are you going to do all the cooking here?" He asked with trepidation.

"Not unless you want to."

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped back haughtily, seeming to miss her sarcasm entirely.

"Then I suppose it's me who will be cooking your meals while you're here. I agreed to keep you here one week, by the way. Just to start with. But let's be honest and agree you'll be gone by this afternoon with any luck."

"I'll go when I bloody well please," he clipped back.

"Oh, really?" Flora replied with indifference, still not looking at him as she rummaged through the cupboards.

"Yes, really," he scowled, sitting down at the kitchen table. "I'm here temporarily because this is the safest place for me to be."

"I wouldn't count on it," Flora snorted. "I could poison your dinner."

She felt less afraid of him now; his childish persistence in arguing with her and following her room-to-room somehow made him feel less hostile and more ridiculous.

"Or perhaps I'll rip your bollocks off myself and serve them to you in a dish."

Regulus' stared at her, his jaw clenched in annoyance. "You dare threaten me?"

Flora suddenly laughed, short and briefly. She turned her head to look at him and moved over to the table with the large brown mixing bowl, which she set down in front of her. A new thought occurred to her now. "Are you afraid of me, Regulus?"

Regulus faltered, slightly caught off-guard by the way she laughed just then. A hint of colour bloomed in his pale cheeks.

"Afraid?" He scowled. 

Flora reached across the table, her hand approaching his arm to touch him or pinch him, and consequently caused Regulus to sharply move back. A wooden chair scraped loudly across the slate floor as he walked into it, dodging her. It was mean, she knew it; but she'd had no intention of doing anything at all. It was almost comical and Flora couldn't disguise her satisfaction.

"What do you think you are doing?" He snapped angrily.

"Seeing if you're scared of me. You are."

"Of you?" He scorned, looking absolutely livid.

"Then why did you move back like that?"

"You threatened me,” he grumbled resentfully. "Do you really expect me to let you near me?"

Flora wasn't sure if he meant it as a joke, but she began to laugh. Regulus' face did not change, however, apart from going slightly pinker. "Why are you laughing?" He demanded.

Flora met his sharp eyes and began to laugh all over again. She covered her mouth in the crook of her elbow, as her hands were now covered in the flour and butter she had just weighed and deposited into the mixing bowl. When she didn't answer his question, he glowered at her angrily and stood up from his chair. "I think I will go upstairs."

Flora, still laughing, shook her head. "Oh, no! Stay! You're actually quite funny."

"I'll not stay here to be laughed at," he snapped back.

"I thought you were making a joke," she returned quickly, still amused.

Regulus stiffened. In truth, some of his annoyance had melted away the moment she asked him to stay. He stared at her, unable to tear his eyes away. But then he remembered himself and narrowed his eyes. "I am not trying to amuse you," he said finally, trying to regain his composure.

"Oh, alright. Go then," she waved her hands at him dismissively, though she didn't sound irritated this time. "It's like having the Grim Reaper sitting at my table anyway."

Regulus' scowl deepened and he skulked off without another word.

❦

Regulus didn't reappear until Sirius and Remus arrived, which was a little after lunchtime. Flora had called Regulus down for lunch - a ham sandwich and a slice of her freshly baked cake - but he'd resolutely ignored her and eventually drifted off to sleep. It had been a while since he'd slept in a proper bed. He woke when he heard his brother's footsteps stomping up the narrow old stairs. Sirius burst in without even knocking, as was customary for him. Regulus rolled over on the bed, rubbing at his eyes. He was surprised to realise he'd actually fully slept, even if it was for a short time; he felt almost refreshed and then a little annoyed that his brother had interrupted his sleep.

Sirius at first stared at his little brother blankly, and then a mocking grin spread across his face. "What? Was Flora being mean to you?"

"What?" Regulus grumbled sleepily, sitting up.

"Flora said you didn't come down for lunch. She thinks you're upset because she laughed at you."

Regulus huffed. "No," he said snippily. "I just didn't want to sit and talk to a muggle. I could feel my brain cells deteriorating during the short conversation we did have."

"Ah," Sirius laughed shortly, "So you're hiding out in her house, having to eat her food that she cooks for you, but you're above having to talk to the poor girl?"

"Why should I have to speak to her?" Regulus frowned. "She's lower than a house elf."

"A house elf is subservient to us," Sirius moved further into the room, glaring slightly at his brother with disapproval. "A muggle is not. I'd say she's handling meeting you way better than you're handling meeting her."

"She's annoying."

"Why? Because she doesn't bow down to your mighty authority?"

"She could treat me with more respect," Regulus glowered.

Sirius snorted. "Why does she need to treat you with respect? You're staying at her house, eating her food, and I imagine she will be cleaning up after you too, all in exchange for absolutely nothing. Why should she have any respect for you, Regulus?"

"Because I'm a pureblood wizard," Regulus retorted with disdain. "She... she is nothing. She's dirt."

Sirius' brow furrowed darkly at this remark. "Her life is just as valuable as your life," he said in a low, furious tone. Below the room in the kitchen, both could hear Flora laughing and talking animatedly with Remus.

"She's inferior."

Sirius took in a sharp breath, trying to calm his anger. He couldn't even look at his brother right now and instead fixed his eyes on the wall ahead of him. The wallpaper was faded in areas where Remus' David Bowie posters used to be pinned up. There was not much left in the room except for a wardrobe, chest of drawers, bed, bedside table and a box of old toys.

"She is not inferior to you, Regulus. She's probably a good deal smarter... and braver than you," he let the last part hang in the air a moment. Regulus tensed. "And clearly she's making you look like a fool," he concluded.

"Fool?" Regulus started angrily. "I'm not a fool."

"If you weren't a fool, you wouldn't be in this situation now, would you?" Sirius snapped back abruptly. "You wouldn't be hiding like this. And now the best you can do is sulk and pout like a child because a muggle isn't grovelling with reverence at your feet. Honestly, I'm not surprised she doesn't take you seriously."

Regulus moved off the bed now and strode towards the doorway angrily.

"Where are you going?" Sirius frowned.

"For a piss," Regulus snapped back. "Leave me alone."

Sirius watched his brother stalk out of the room. He decided not to linger; he didn't have the energy for a lengthy argument after the morning he'd had, so instead he returned downstairs to join Remus and Flora. They were now in the sitting room with a cup of tea each- plus two extra cups of tea on the side, one for Sirius and one for Regulus.

"Is he coming down?" Flora asked as she flipped through her records.

Sirius shrugged, smiling serenely at her. "He's being a moody git. Let him simmer."

The music downstairs carried its way into Regulus' room as he settled back down on his rumpled bed. His anger had not dissipated, but an uneasy feeling was steadily growing in the pit of his stomach. He'd let that girl get under his skin and he knew it. He hated her, and yet his thoughts began to wander as he listened to her laughter below, wondering suddenly if she was laughing about him - if they were all laughing about him. He couldn't bear it. He lay back down on the bed and pulled the quilt over himself, willing himself to drift back to sleep and block out the infuriating noise and that even more infuriating girl.

Chapter Text

Four

❦

Hunger finally won. Regulus had been sleeping for hours and laid awake an hour longer just listening to his stomach grumble. It was now growing dark outside; the lights were off in the hallway when Regulus stepped out of his room, illuminated only by a very small window at the other end near Flora’s bedroom. He walked half-blind, unable to find the light switch, and feeling increasingly frustrated he didn’t have his wand to overcome this mundane annoyance.

The stairs led directly into the kitchen, so already Regulus could smell the warm scent of onions and fresh herbs and meat simmering as he made his way down. There was a door at the bottom of the stairs; Regulus could see slivers of light through the thin cracks of the wood, but it did nothing to help his sight as he carefully treaded down the uneven old stairs. He held close to the wall, sliding his hand along, until he finally reached the door and stepped out into the warm, bright kitchen. He stumbled on this last step into the kitchen, not expecting the sudden steep drop, and quickly grabbed hold of the door latch.

Flora turned her head as she heard the clatter. “Oh, be careful of that last step. It’s bigger than the rest.”

“What sort of a deathtrap is this place?” Regulus huffed, quickly righting himself and fixing his sharp eyes on Flora. He tried to look distinguished, as though he had not almost just cracked his head open on the wall.

“It’s just old,” she shrugged. She was standing by the oven, stirring a big pan of something over the stovetop.

“Old?” He snapped back. “This place is a dump. What an absolute shit hole.”

“Oh, be quiet. Just because you can’t watch where you’re going. You should be used to things like this. Don’t the stairs at Hogwarts move?” Flora frowned.

Regulus stared at her darkly. “Yes, the stairs at Hogwarts do move,” he replied, his voice growing tight with his bubbling irritation. “But that’s different. This place is just a dilapidated mess. And why isn’t there any light upstairs?”

“There is a light,” Flora suddenly turned away from the oven and strode towards the stairway. Regulus moved back. “There’s one here at the bottom,” she flicked a switch on, lighting up the stairs with a warm orange light, “And there’s another just in the middle of the hall at the top.”

“Well how was I supposed to know that?” Regulus retorted defensively, obviously agitated. “Why can’t the lights just be on by default? Why must I go searching for them?”

“Iesu Mawredd,” Flora muttered, rolling her eyes. She turned the stairway light off and moved back to her cooking. “It takes two seconds.”

“That is not the point,” Regulus replied. “The stairs should be lit as a matter of courtesy. You’re a terrible hostess.”

“And you’re a terrible guest,” she returned abruptly, "Now shut up and sit down. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Rather begrudgingly, he sat down at the table, too hungry to argue with her any longer. He watched her closely as she worked with her back to him, dishing out the food onto two mismatched plates. He continued to stare at her as she set the food down in front of him.

Regulus looked at the plate with evident displeasure, then looked back at Flora with his nose scrunched up slightly, “What is this?”

“Shepherd’s pie,” Flora replied calmly, silently waiting for and daring him to start the onslaught of insults he was no doubt preparing to throw at her. She began to eat.

Regulus’s handsome face was set in a scowl, as though he were determined to keep it there. Flora eyed him as she ate, watching as he took a cautious mouthful of the potato and meat. When he didn’t say anything after the second and third mouthfuls, Flora redirected her attention and began thinking about the television show she was going to watch later. She looked back at Regulus for a moment, watching him eat. He was sitting up very straight, with his elbows firmly locked at his side, his movements refined, calculated. Flora watched mostly out of fascination, wondering at his privileged upbringing. Regulus felt her eyes on him and lifted his gaze. 

"What?" he demanded, glaring.

“Nothing," she shrugged, looking away. Then, more for the sake of changing the subject, asked, "Do you want to watch television with me later?” 

Regulus looked at her as if she were mad. “Watch television?” He scowled. “I can hardly stand being in this room with you for ten minutes, and you want me to sit and watch that.. that stupid box thing with you?”

A small smile crept onto Flora’s pretty, unaffected face. “Just asking.”

He glared at her and said nothing more. They lapsed into a heavy silence for some time, both eating; Regulus stabbed at his food moodily but seemed to be enjoying it, and gradually Flora relaxed in spite of the uncomfortable silence between them.

“I hope you are aware that shepherd’s pie is supposed to be made with lamb,” Regulus said gloomily, breaking the silence. “This is beef.”

Flora paused, her mouth full. She fixed her eyes on him and simply stared at him as she quietly chewed and swallowed the food. She then straightened up and took a steady breath that lasted around five seconds, which she counted in her head. “Then it’s cottage pie,” she replied calmly.

Regulus couldn’t hide the wave of confusion that washed over him when she calmly accepted his criticism. “Fine, cottage pie then,” he answered after a beat, rolling his eyes and picking through the potatoes with his fork. “But it’s not a very good cottage pie.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Flora said, raising an eyebrow.

In spite of his insult, Regulus had taken another mouthful and took a moment to respond. “I’ve had better,” he said, taking a sip of water.

“Really?” She replied, still calm. If Regulus had looked more closely he would have seen the way her eyes had narrowed on him dangerously.

“Yes, really,” he returned haughtily. “It’s definitely not up to my standards.”

“Okay,” she said without reaction, continuing to eat.

“Okay?” He frowned.

“Tomorrow evening, you can make dinner,” she replied.

Regulus’ face dropped and he glared darkly at her, outraged at her audacity. “Make my own dinner?” He scoffed, “I have never cooked a meal in my life!”

“Well then,” Flora smiled thinly, “Perhaps it’s time you learned, seeing as my cooking is so terrible.”

“I will not learn,” he snarled back. “I won’t stoop so low as to cook my own food. It is beneath me. My house elf cooked all the meals.”

“Well there isn’t a house elf here, if you hadn’t noticed,” Flora snapped, her patience finally wearing thin. She had finished eating now and set her cutlery down with a loud clatter. “So either you cook your own food, or you eat what I make for you and stop fucking complaining.”

Regulus blinked, watching as she rose from her seat. He jumped when she snatched his half-finished plate of food from under his nose.

“Oi, I haven’t finished!” He objected.

“You said it wasn’t up to your standard,” she returned briskly, "So I was going to throw it away for you."

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t eat it,” he scowled angrily. “Give it back.”

Flora stared down at him, holding his plate tightly and out of his reach. She knew he wouldn’t dare try and grab it; he was too afraid of touching her for some reason. After a moment of intense glaring at each other, Flora replied sharply, “If I’m going to cook your meals here, you can at least be grateful. It’s that simple.”

Regulus snorted. “Grateful? To you?”

“Yes, grateful,” she snapped back. “I’m feeding you, aren’t I? Do you realise how rude you’ve been to me? You refuse to accept my hospitality, which is already an incredible insult, and you’ve insulted my home and now my cooking. You’re incredibly entitled, and I can only imagine what sort of a person your mother is to allow you to be raised like this.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my mother,” Regulus was clearly rattled by this. He spoke sharply, his eyes aflame with anger.

“Then don’t you dare insult me again,” she slammed the plate back down on the table. “Eat your dinner and fuck off.”

With that, Flora flounced off into the living room. Regulus sullenly looked back down at his meal, which was now almost cold, and pushed it away spitefully. He went to bed.

❦

The next day Regulus was awoken, for the second time, by his older brother barging into the bedroom. Sirius’ handsome, cheerful face contrasted starkly with the sour grimace Regulus was wearing as he sat up in bed.

“Where are your pyjamas?” Sirius asked when he noticed Regulus was just in his underwear. “You can’t be racing around in your briefs with ladies around.”

Regulus’ scowl deepened. “You didn’t pack me any. And they were your pyjamas anyway.”

“Oh, right,” Sirius replied, still grinning. “I’m going into town this morning. I’ll buy you some. Need anything else?”

Regulus shrugged glumly. “No.”

“I heard she sent you to bed without any supper.”

Now Regulus understood why his brother was smiling so much. Flora had probably told him everything about the previous night.

“That’s not true,” Regulus snapped back coolly. He climbed out of bed and reached for his black jeans that he’d folded over the back of a chair. “I just chose not to eat it and went to bed because I wanted to.”

“Poor Reggie,” Sirius teased. He was obviously in a good mood and it only served to irritate Regulus more.

Regulus glared and pulled his jeans on, muttering about the stupidity and ugliness of muggle clothes as he did so. Sirius was completely at ease in muggle clothes; at present, he was wearing black drainpipe jeans and t-shirt with the name of some muggle band printed across it. Regulus yearned for his elegant, tailored wizard robes.

“Have you been putting anything on those?” Sirius sat down on the bed and nodded to the deep bruises and scratches that covered Regulus’s pale chest, shoulders and back.

Regulus pulled his t-shirt and jumper on quickly, averting his gaze from his brother’s face. “Not since I got here.”

“Do they still hurt?”

“Sometimes.”

Sirius wanted to say more, ask more, but he knew better. Regulus had not been forthcoming on how he’d obtained such violent injuries. Sirius always tried not to look too closely, being aware that Regulus would notice his gaze, but he had noticed the distinct finger-like marks that had dragged their way across his torso and down his back. It occasionally made Regulus walk a little stiffly. He simply said he’d been attacked by something evil and clammed up when pressed on the matter. Consequently, the Order didn’t fully trust him. They wanted information, every detail.  They suspected he had been nearly killed by Inferi, but Regulus remained evasive, saying he didn’t know what had attacked him. A greyish pallor always tinged his complexion whenever he was questioned about what happened in that cave, so Sirius simply stopped asking and begged the Order to give Regulus a little time.

“Are you going to eat breakfast? Flo’s making scrambled eggs.”

Regulus did like scrambled eggs. He shrugged and grumbled in assent, “Suppose so.”

Now dressed, he walked downstairs behind Sirius and sat down at the table. Remus wasn’t there. Flora, as Sirius had said, was making a large batch of scrambled eggs in a frying pan; she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Sirius, but ignored Regulus altogether. She was still annoyed with him. A small radio, sitting on the kitchen counter, was reporting the morning weather forecast; Regulus eyed it with deep suspicion, wondering how a muggle man’s voice was coming out of it; Sirius and Remus didn’t have one of those at the flat.

“So, what you going to do today, Reg?” Sirius asked. “Not going to sleep and hide in you room all day again?”

“No… I don’t know,” he said tersely. Flora glanced over her shoulder at him now, just briefly. He scowled and stared at the radio again, which was now playing a song. He wanted to know how it was playing music, but was too stubborn and proud to ask.

“I was going to go for a walk later,” Flora said, not answering Regulus directly, but more to both of them.

“You could go for a walk too, Reg,” Sirius suggested.

“With her?” He frowned.

Flora stiffened. She quickly divided the eggs up between the three plates of toast and gathered the plates up, holding one in each hand with the third resting on her forearm, which she then placed down carefully at the table. A hot pot of tea was brewing under a pink tea cosy; Sirius, never without his gentlemanly manners, poured a cup each for Flora and his brother before helping himself.

“Why not?” Sirius replied, deliberately ignoring Regulus’ expression of disgust, “It’s a nice day.”

“I think I’ll stay here,” Regulus sniffed.

“Suit yourself,” Sirius shrugged.

“If you stay here, would you do the dishes for me, please?” Flora asked without a hint of irony in her voice.

Regulus stared at her. “Are you serious?” He asked, incredulous.

“No, I’m Sir—” Sirius started, wanting to steer the sour mood before it went completely south.

“Oh, fuck off. That's getting old,” Regulus snapped at his brother. Flora’s lips twitched slightly into a little smirk. He fixed his steely eyes back on her. “The dishes are a job for a house elf and, if I recall correctly, I am not a house elf.”

“Yes, but as we’ve already established twice now, there is not a resident house elf here,” Flora replied.

“No, but there’s you.”

“Do I look like a house elf?”

“You’re about the same height as one, and you’re definitely as stu—” Regulus started, but was cut off short by his brother.

“I will do the dishes,” Sirius interjected quickly. “I learned a few good cleaning spells after I moved in with Remus.”

“Well that’s fitting,” Regulus snorted with derision, “A couple of fairy boys should be good at that sort of thing.”

“You go enjoy your walk Flora,” Sirius said quickly, his jaw tensing. “I’ll clean up after breakfast.”

Flora looked at him, then at Regulus. As quick as Sirius had been to cover up the tail-end of Regulus’ comment, it hadn’t gone unnoticed. In the end, she just nodded and gave a Sirius a small, uncomfortable smile. “Thank you.”

They ate in silence from thereon with only the radio playing in the background. The tension was heavy over the table. Flora felt this was more than just about her now. Regulus’ hatred extended a little further than her it seemed, for he clearly disliked Remus too. The implication of his words, and what he had said yesterday for that matter, left a bad taste in her mouth. She understood his insults well enough, but did not understand how they related to her brother and Sirius. Homosexuality was something other men did, not her brother. Not Remus. And Sirius certainly wasn’t one of those men, she reasoned to herself; he was so charming with women, so flirtatious. No, she thought to herself, she would know. Regulus was just being contrary for the sake of it.

Flora went on her walk after breakfast and left Regulus behind at the cottage, while Sirius sorted the dishes out and popped (literally) into town to buy things for Regulus. Her walking space was limited to the surrounding forest, all of which was protected by the concealment charm. She brought a book with her — Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen — to read when she got tired of walking. The ground was dry this morning and the weather mild.

Flora was steadily getting through a long reading list of classic books for the English course she was supposed to have enrolled in this year. She should’ve been at Cambridge right now, lounging in a boat on the River Cam with likeminded academics; her mother would’ve been so proud of her. But it wasn’t safe, not yet. Remus promised she would go when the war was over. However, it did mean Flora had a lot of expendable time and was able to read books and old coursework, which she insisted Remus find for her. And of course, he did. Between cooking and cleaning, it kept her fondly occupied.

She walked until she found her favourite spot and spent a longer time than usual just reading. The simple fact was she didn’t want to return home and face her hostile houseguest. But she soon grew a little cold, and her bottom felt numb from sitting so long on the hard ground, that eventually she relented and made her way back to the cottage with the hope it was still standing.

To her surprise, Regulus was outside. He was skulking around the garden, studying the herb beds and whatever flowers that had not yet faded with the summer. As she approached, he straightened up and fixed his eyes on her face.

“Hello,” Flora said a little stiffly to him in acknowledgment.

“Hello.”

“You’re outside.”

He said nothing for a moment. He just looked at her, then lightly cleared his throat and spoke steadily, “The garden is nice.”

Flora couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped her mouth as he said this, for it was so matter-of-fact. She quickly stopped when she noted the offended look that shadowed his handsome face, but she still smiled and nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“Why do you always laugh at me?”

“I didn’t mean to,” she replied gently. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to say something kind.”

“I wasn’t being kind,” he clarified, frowning. “I was simply making a remark. I like gardens.”

“Hmm,” she agreed, nodding. She glanced around at the ivy growing up the cottage wall, then at the withering, dying foliage above. “Everything is dying though.”

“I still think it is nice,” he said. He paused again, then added, “It’s more peaceful than London.”

“I suppose it would be.”

Another silence ensued. Flora sighed softly and looked back at the cottage. “Let’s have lunch. Are you hungry?”

Regulus eyed her warily. “Are you going to make me prepare it?”

She held back another laugh and turned away so he couldn’t see her smile, for he was being perfectly serious. “No, I’ll make it. You’d probably burn the place down if I let you near the oven.”

Regulus followed her back inside, close at her heels. “Then yes… please.”

Chapter Text

Five

❦

Sirius bought a lot of new clothes for Regulus, including three pairs of pyjamas, as promised. Until now, Regulus had been wearing either Sirius’ or Remus’ old clothes. Still, Regulus scowled when he took each item out of the bag and scrunched his delicate little nose up like he’d caught a bad scent, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Why can’t you go to Diagon Alley and get me proper clothes?” He demanded as they sat in the living room. The light outside was dying and evening was approaching rapidly.

“Why? Who’re you trying to impress?” Sirius replied briskly. He was reclining lazily in an armchair with his long legs stretched out. Regulus cast him a sharp, irritated look and didn’t bother replying.

Flora glanced over at him, busy with the fireplace. She’d decided it was finally cold enough to light the first fire of the Autumn season and was arranging coal and firewood inside the grate.

“Full moon tonight, isn’t it?” She asked, sitting back on her heels and dusting off her hands.

“Mm, yeah,” Sirius answered, nodding.

Flora frowned to herself and looked back the fireplace. The usual dread she felt when it came to full moons crept up her spine. She worried for her brother and now, increasingly, she had herself to worry about too. Sirius seemed aware of her fear and he sat forward, leaning towards her with an outstretched hand. He gave her shoulder a gentle, comforting squeeze.

“It’s okay. The worst thing you have to deal with is him,” he nodded his head in Regulus’ gloomy direction. He was still fussing over his new clothes, but raised his eyes and glared at them before looking back down again sulkily.

Flora smiled a little, her cheeks flushing. She felt dismayed when Sirius withdrew his hand and sat back again.

“You’re safe here,” he added reassuringly.

“You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

“And Remus is okay?” She asked.

“As fine as he can be,” Sirius replied with a little shrug. “He runs around the Lake District these days. He’s been okay the last few moons.”

“I thought the Order people wanted him to spy on that pack. The Greyback one.”

Sirius appeared less relaxed than he had a moment ago; he sat up a little more and pulled his legs in. “They do,” he answered evasively, keeping his eyes down. He was fiddling with the fringe on a cushion. Regulus was watching and listening to the two of them closely, his eyes darting between them.

“And?” Flora prompted.

Sirius looked at her again and let out a heavy breath through his nose. He then rose from the armchair and got down on the floor in front of her, sitting cross-legged like a young child. He fixed his large dark eyes on Flora sternly.

“Listen, Remus doesn’t want you to know too much. He knows you worry.”

Flora blinked a couple of times. Her gaze momentarily wavered over Sirius’s shoulder to Regulus sitting on the sofa, who was still watching them both intently. He looked even more of an outsider now that Sirius had moved closer to Flora.

“So, what’s going on? Is he running with that pack?” She asked tentatively, quickly bringing her eyes back to Sirius.

“Infiltrating,” Sirius corrected. His knees touched her knees. “He’s not running with them, so to speak. Tonight will be the second time.”

Flora’s brow furrowed. “How was it the first time?”

“Fine,” Sirius answered quickly. “Fine. They were glad to see him, actually. Treated him quite well.”

He clearly had more to say, but didn’t volunteer any forthcoming information. He just quirked a quick smile at Flora and then looked back at his dour little brother. Regulus looked away and fixed his gaze upon a stack of books in the corner.

Flora turned back to the fireplace and picked up the box of matches. She promptly lit one and threw it onto the kindling. She then stood up, dusting herself off a second time, and asked Sirius, “Are you staying for tea?”

“If you want me to,” Sirius smiled. “What’re you making?”

“Chicken,” Flora said. She looked over at Regulus briefly. He was still reading the titles of her books on the shelf, paying no attention to her or Sirius.

“I’ll stay,” Sirius nodded. “Better than going home to an empty flat.”

❦

Regulus hardly said a word at dinner. Whether because his older brother was there to tell him off, or because he genuinely liked the food, he didn’t insult her cooking this time. He ate everything, and even accepted a cup of tea and slice of cake from her with a begrudged mumble of thanks.

His good behaviour continued into the next day, and the day after that. More to the point, he stayed out of her way, ate his meals and didn’t complain. His blatant hostility had been somewhat reassuring in some ways, because at least she knew where she stood with him; he still was hostile, that much was clear, but oddly silent and increasingly withdrawn. He wasn’t even scowling at her so much. It put Flora on edge, unable to help but make her a little more wary than usual, particularly as she thought back to the conversation Sirius had had so openly with her while Regulus was present. How much he could be trusted, Flora daren’t think about. She’d rather he was rude again.

On the third consecutive day of sullen silence, Flora was washing up in the kitchen when she noticed it was beginning to rain on the clean washing outside. It had been an unseasonably nice day, so she'd decided to do a big wash and hang everything to dry outside. It also gave her reason to briefly speak to Regulus to ask for his dirty washing; she’d tapped on his bedroom door and felt quite glad when he gave her his usual haughty glare and snapped back, “I don’t want you handling my clothing.”

“Fine then, smell like a sewer rat,” she’d shrugged back. “The washing won’t do itself.”

He had relented in the end. Now it was beginning to rain and the clothes were rapidly getting wet. Flora cursed under her breath, dashed to the door, threw it open, and ran outside. In that moment, she paid little mind to the heavy stone she usually pushed in front of the door to hold it open; a small shove with her foot had presumably fixed the stone in place. But it hadn’t. The heaviness of the old door slid the stone out of place and the door promptly slammed shut. Upon returning with a basketful of damp washing only two minutes later, Flora discovered she was locked out.

“Shit,” she hissed. She started to hit the door with the flat of her palm. “Regulus! Regulus! Open the door!” she shouted. No response. She kept hitting the door, then kicked at it to make sure he could hear her.

“Regulus!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve locked us out,” Regulus’ drawling voice materialised behind her.

Flora spun around in surprise, her eyes wide. “What are you doing outside?”

Her long dark hair was rendered pin-straight, sticking to her face as the rain came down faster. Regulus was almost equally sodden, especially now as he was forced to stop and stand on the spot; raindrops dripped off his long eyelashes and nose, and his hair was hanging across his eyes in loose damp curls. To Flora’s irritation, he still looked ridiculously handsome. He was wearing a long woolen coat Sirius had bought him, and by all evidence it seemed to be the only piece of clothing he actually liked, especially now it was keeping him dry. Flora had only a short-sleeved dress and cardigan on. 

“Why am I outside?” He retorted in a snarky voice, “Perhaps it’s because the door is locked, you imbecile.”

“No, I mean,” Flora huffed impatiently, “You were inside! Why are you outside? I never said you could go outside!”

Regulus snorted softly. “Do you honestly think I would ask your permission to go outside?” He sneered. “I’ll go whenever I bloody feel like it. I just went for a walk.”

“You’re supposed to tell me!” Flora said angrily, put the washing basket down.

“Am I supposed to tell you when I need to piss too?” He snapped back sarcastically. “I can go wherever and whenever I want. I don’t need your permission.”

Flora rubbed her face, wiping rain water across her eyes and smudging her mascara. “Oh, fuck,” she muttered, “Fuck’s sake!” She tried the door handle again, shaking it uselessly.

“You idiot. Move,” he pushed her aside to try the door himself, first trying the thumb-latch handle and then shoving his full weight against the door.

“Well that won’t do any good,” Flora snapped, folding her arms across herself and shivering. “You probably only weigh half a stone."

“Fuck off,” he glowered. He kicked the door but it remained resolutely locked. “Don’t you have a spare key?”

“No, Remus lost it,” she sighed in frustration. “How’re we supposed to get inside? Can’t you do any magic? This must be easy!”

“I can’t do jackshit without my wand,” Regulus snarled back vehemently. The cold and wet was now really starting to set in for both of them.

“Then what do we do?” Flora despaired. As she said this, she backed away from the doorstep and surveyed the cottage, looking upwards with her eyes half closed. The rain was plummeting down on them. She suddenly pointed up at her bedroom window, which was open. “Could one of us climb in through there?”

Regulus moved to where she was standing and looked up also. “I’m not climbing up there,” he said at once, frowning at her. “Don’t you have a broomstick or something?”

Flora scoffed, staring at him in disbelief. “A broomstick? Yeah, I keep one with my pointy hat and cauldron in the shed— no, I do not have a fucking broomstick.”

“I meant your brother might,” Regulus snapped back.

“He doesn’t,” Flora glared. “Remus doesn’t like flying.”

“Wait, there’s a shed?”

Flora had come to the same realisation at that very moment and already turned on her heel, heading towards the side of the cottage. Regulus followed. There was a tall weather-worn gate he’d been through once before to access the garden behind the cottage, which was quite a lot larger than the front. He hadn’t, however, noticed the little green shed off to the left. Flora rushed to it as quickly as she could, treading with trepidation because she was still only in her fluffy slippers.

“Maybe there’s a ladder in here,” she said as she pulled open the stiff door. The smell of oil, rust, dirt and musty air greeted their nostrils. Regulus stepped in more for shelter than for any intention of helping, grimacing at the cobwebs and mess that lay about them. He looked very out of place in his smart, expensive coat.

“I think the only thing we’ll find in here is tetanus,” he muttered.

Flora cast a disapproving look at him over her shoulder as she moved further into the shed. There was a ladder, but of course it was at the very back of the shed, partially hidden behind many heavy pieces of gardening equipment.

“I think I can get it…” Flora mumbled uncertainly, inching her way closer. She was about to lift her leg over the lawn mower when Regulus suddenly grabbed her by the waist and practically lifted her into the air. Flora yelped in surprise.

“Watch it!” He cried.

“What the hell are you playing at?!” Flora stumbled backward. She elbowed his ribs in alarm, momentarily thinking he was about to attack her. They both fell backwards against the doorframe, his hands still clasped firmly to her middle.

“Be careful,” he hissed, quickly letting go of her and pointing at a very sharp, very rusty nail sticking out of a workbench. Flora’s bare leg had been within millimetres of making contact with it.

“Oh,” Flora blinked. She turned her leg slightly and hitched up her skirt a little to examine the scratch. Fortunately, a bloodless scratch was all it was due to Regulus’ fast reaction. Regulus averted his eyes at once, his cheeks growing pink as if she were about to start undressing in front of him.

“You should watch where you’re going,” he muttered.

Flora looked at him when she had finished checking the scratch. Her expression was one of bemusement, but otherwise uncertain gratitude. “Thanks.”

“Just… stay there,” he said, stepping in front of her to resume the job of retrieving the ladder.

“I don’t think we can get to it,” Flora fretted. “There’s too much stuff in the way.”

As Regulus stepped over the lawnmower, he saw exactly what she meant. There were two old bikes, a stack of wooden pallets, numerous tins of paint, heavy toolboxes, broken furniture, and what looked like car parts all cluttered in a dangerous heap that would not be easy to overcome without magic to aid them. Worse still, the ladder looked to be broken.

Regulus sighed in irritation. “Alright, so what the hell do we do?”

“We could wait for Sirius and Remus,” Flora reasoned weakly.

“Wait?” Regulus scowled. “And catch pneumonia?”

“We can shelter in here…” she trailed off, her confidence wavering further when she caught sight of a large spider sitting in a web across the window.

“And what, exactly, do we do in the meantime?” Regulus replied in irritation, following her gaze. “Sit here in the shitty shed all night and get eaten alive by spiders?”

“I don’t know, okay?!” She finally snapped, feeling close to tears from her frustration and discomfort. She wrapped her arms around herself again, this time more tightly, shivering in her wet clothes. For a split second, Regulus considered giving her his coat, but she continued, “One of us needs to climb through the bedroom window, if nothing else.”

“You’re smaller,” he said quickly.

“Can you lift me?”

Regulus very much hated this idea and it showed on his face with a grimace. Flora stared daggers back at him. “Jesus Christ, I’m not going to bite you. You just grabbed me a moment ago and you’re still standing in one piece.”

“Think I’ve got a bruise in my ribs from your elbow though,” he countered.

“Yeah, well, I thought you were going to do something bad,” she returned sternly.

Regulus blinked a few times in surprise. “Bad?”

“Forget it. Will you lift me up so I can climb through the window?”

“Suppose so. If I have to,” he grumbled.

Flora took a steady breath to calm herself, then nodded. “Okay then. Come on.”

They walked back to the front of the cottage. The rain had eased somewhat, but hadn’t yet stopped completely. Flora looked up at her bedroom window and then looked at Regulus.

“It’s not that high. I think I could climb in if I get on your shoulders.”

Regulus sighed heavily, hating every moment of this. He had touched her once to prevent her from cutting herself on a rusty nail, but that had been pure instinct; now he was about to let her climb on his shoulders like a pair of circus monkeys.

“This is ridiculous,” he said in exasperation, dipping down so she could climb on.

“Don’t you dare drop me,” she warned, kicking her muddy slippers off. She hooked her leg around him and pushed up quickly so she was sitting on his back. Regulus winced, as the pressure irritated his wounds. He had to grab her ankles to keep her balanced as she carefully eased herself up to finally stand on his shoulders. Her legs were shaking with nerves and she couldn’t fully straighten her legs or remove her hands from his hair, which she was now gripping in her fists.

“You’re going to drop me!” She wailed.

“No, I’m not!” He snapped back, wincing and gritting his teeth in annoyance as she grabbed his hair. He was also sure one of the scars on his shoulders had started to bleed again. “Just stand up and climb through the damn window.”

“I can’t!” She reached for the window ledge.

“Stop bending your legs and just reach up more!” He tried to look up to see what she was doing, but this only made her fret more; she quickly tucked her skirt between her legs.

“Don’t look up my skirt, you little pervert!”

“I don’t want to look at you at all,” he snarled back, looking back at the wall he was almost nose-to-nose with. “Just grab the fucking window sill.”

Flora took a breath, straightened her legs and pulled herself higher, so she was now waist-level with the window sill. Regulus felt the weight on his shoulders lessen and so he quickly pushed her up by the heels of her feet, inadvertently looking up just as she clambered through the window headfirst. She disappeared inside with a thud and a loud, “Ow!”

“Idiot,” he grumbled to himself, scowling up at the window.

The rain began to beat down harder again. Regulus listened to it and watched it bounce off the leaves of a flowering plant while he waited to be let inside, with occurred a short moment later. The front door abruptly opened, shadowed by a furious-looking Flora. She looked ready to murder someone. Regulus slouched in, soaking wet and angry; Flora picked up the washing on the step and slammed the door loudly. They both regarded one another with a look of complete fury and dire resentment.

“You are not leaving this house without telling me next time,” Flora said bitterly.

“Who the hell do you think you are, telling me what to do?” Regulus retorted, his anger boiling over. “This would never have happened if you hadn’t locked us out.”

“You’re not supposed to leave!”

“I can do whatever I damn well please!”

“No!” Flora went on in a passionate rage. “I don’t trust you! You stay here or I’ll tell Sirius to take you back to London. I’m sick of the sight of your miserable face anyway!”

She didn’t wait for him to argue back, though he’d been about to open his mouth. She was too cold, wet and upset to hear it. She stormed across the kitchen and made a beeline for the stairs as Regulus stared at her in disbelief and anger. She stomped up the stairs and into the bathroom, and a few seconds later the pipes in the walls groaned as she turned the taps on for a bath.

Regulus badly wanted to do the same. His muscles were aching and his scars were stinging from having her stand on his back and shoulders. But he knew he’d have to wait now, which he resented deeply, though he wasn’t as soaked to the skin as Flora. He’d still had his coat on, which he now took off and hanged by the fireplace in the sitting room to dry off. Only his face and hair were sodden wet.

He fed more kindling to the fire and sat as close as he could for warmth, waiting and listening for Flora to finish in the bathroom. His initial anger eased as he sat alone watching the orange flames, but his annoyance did not. He hated her, but was annoyed that he couldn’t hate her as much as he wanted to hate her. Something about her appealed to his deepest sensibilities, though Regulus told himself it was simply because she was pretty and stupidly helpless; it was her wide eyes, he considered, they gave her an air of innocence. She had the same trusting eyes as Remus.

Nearly forty-five minutes later, Regulus went back into the kitchen and was trying to make himself a cup of tea when Flora came downstairs. Her hair was damp, but clean, and she was wearing soft pink pyjamas.

“How do you work this stupid thing?” Regulus muttered, holding up the kettle.

Flora glared and snatched it from his hands. “Leave it. You’ll break it.”

She went to fill it with water at the sink and then put it back down to heat up, then turned her attention to the sodden washing still sitting in the basket. She sighed and began to sort through it, hanging it up to dry over the fire guard in front of the ancient kitchen fireplace. A small, dying fire was lit in the grate. Regulus leaned against the kitchen counter, watching her. He didn't especially like the casual way she handled his boxers and put them on display next to her things, but he didn't object out of sheer mortification. He'd rather let her think he didn't care. Flora could feel his eyes on her and s he tried to ignore him, but he made her feel highly conscious of herself, aware now of every movement she made. She finally looked at him in annoyance.

“Would you stop that?” She snapped.

“Stop what?” He scowled.

“Staring!”

His eyes tracked over her face closely and then he looked aside, still glowering. “I'm making sure you don't ruin my things."

"Thought you didn't like your new clothes," she muttered, turning back to her work. 

"Well it's all I have, so I may as well keep them nice."

"Mmm," was all she said in response, hardly listening anymore. The kettle finished boiling and she turned to the task of making tea. 

"Why’d you think I was going to hurt you in the shed?” He asked suddenly.

“What?”

“You said you thought I was going to do something bad. Why?”

“I’m sure that’s not a hard one to figure out,” she replied snippily, pouring hot water into the two cups. “You’re an ex-death eater and you’ve made it very clear you despise every bone in my body since you arrived. I was standing over sharp metal. If there was any moment to snuff my life out, it would’ve been there.”

Regulus didn’t reply for a moment, considering her words. “I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said finally, quietly, with his eyes averted downwards like a scolded child.

“And you’ve been weird the last few days,” she added, looking at him warily.

“Weird?” He lifted his gaze.

“Well, weirder than usual,” she corrected.

Regulus frowned. His evident confusion was enough to prompt Flora to continue as she stirred milk into their tea. “You haven’t said one rude thing about my cooking the last few days, and you’ve even said thank you a couple of times.”

Regulus snorted. A smirk pulled at his mouth as he regarded her. “Is that all?”

“And you’ve stayed out of my way.”

“So, your logical conclusion was that I must be plotting your demise?”

“Must be,” she sniffed. She pushed the cup of tea towards him across the countertop. “I just thought it was weird… the timing. It was after Sirius visited and told me what Remus was doing for the Order.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Oh, Merlin. Really? I already knew about it. If you weren’t paying attention, like I was, Sirius told you it was the second time he’d gone. Now if you can count, I haven’t been here one week yet. So take a guess where I was the last full moon.”

“Well I didn’t know how long you were dossing with Sirius and Remus for!” She retorted defensively. “Or if they’d even have told you.”

“Believe me, I’ve discovered a lot of things about them,” he said meaningfully. “But that was one thing they told me. They also explained why you were locked up here prisoner in your own house.”

Flora turned away moodily, suddenly feeling a little foolish. She supposed that made sense. She took her cup of tea and made her way into the sitting room with Regulus following.

“For someone who reads so many books, you’re remarkably unperceptive,” he said, sitting down in the armchair near the fire while Flora made herself comfortable on the sofa, glaring at him.

“Whatever. Can’t be too careful,” she grumbled, picking up Jane Austen again.

“Well, you haven’t been so far,” Regulus quipped back. “I apparently nearly murdered you in the shed and there was nothing to stop me dropping you from my shoulders earlier.”

“You needed to get inside,” Flora replied moodily.

“Not necessarily. I could run anytime I please.”

“And get captured by your old mates? Good luck then.”

Regulus sipped his tea. He still had a little irritating smirk on his lips, but Flora again chose to ignore him and promptly resumed her book. Regulus sifted through the newest copy of The Daily Prophet and the two of them lapsed into an oddly comfortable silence.

Chapter Text

Six

❦

“One week today,” Remus said one chilly morning as he folded his long, gangly legs under him on the sofa, a cup of tea cradled in his hands. It was the very morning that marked one week since Regulus arrived. “Are you going to let him stay?” He asked it like he was asking whether she was going to adopt a stray animal she'd found. 

Flora was still in her pyjamas, her eyes heavy from sleep. Her nose was red and running with the onset of a cold, no thanks to being locked outside her house in the rain for so long. She sipped her tea and shrugged, sniffling. “Suppose so…”

“Sirius said he’d had words with him about his manners.”

Flora snorted softly. “That explains a lot then.”

“He’s been better?”

“I wouldn’t say better. He still gives me his dirtiest of looks, but he hasn’t complained about my food lately. And he’s said thank you once or twice.”

Remus nodded thoughtfully. “S’ppose it’s a start.”

There was a short silence between them. Flora sniffled again and dabbed her nose with a tissue, then said, “He saved me from getting tetanus in the shed.”

Remus frowned. “In the shed? Why were you in the shed?”

“Looking for a ladder to get into the house.”

“Wait, what?” Remus looked absolutely baffled. “What d’you mean you were looking for a ladder to get into the house?”

“We got locked out,” she replied a little irritably, annoyed by his sudden line of questioning.

Remus stared at her in astonishment and confusion. Flora just nodded, as if taking this reaction for a verbal reply, “And, Remus, the shed was filthy. Do you have a broomstick, by the way?”

“Wait a second,” Remus blinked, “You and Regulus were locked outside the whole night?”

“No, silly,” she replied quickly. “I got in through the bedroom window.”

“How?!”

She shrugged and looked down at her tea. “Climbed on Regulus,” she mumbled. “It’s lucky he’s so tall.”

Remus stared at her in disbelief, then all of a sudden he began to laugh, burying most of his face in his hand. It was a deep laugh that shook him to his core. When he looked at her again, he had tears sparkling in his wide, astonished eyes.

“So, you-you climbed on Regulus and in through the bedroom window?” He asked, absolutely shaking with laughter now.

“It’s not that funny,” she frowned. “I’ve got a cold now.”

“Flora,” he said breathlessly, wiping at his eyes. “There’s a ladder around the side of the house.”

“Fuck off, there isn’t!”

“There is,” he insisted. “It’s by the coal shed. Fucking hell. As if he let you climb on his shoulders…” he began to laugh all over again.

“Are you joking?” She snapped. “There’s a ladder?”

Remus nodded, trying to compose himself. His face had gone red now. “Oh, fucking hell. I wish Sirius and I had been there to see that.”

“I didn’t see any ladder!” She protested, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “Why are you laughing? It isn’t funny!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… it’s not funny, it’s definitely not…” Remus tried again to calm down, reaching over to pat her shoulder. But he just dissolved into little snickers and snorts again.

“Remus!” She stood up in irritation and snatched up his and her empty cups and breakfast plates, then flounced off into the kitchen. Regulus had just emerged in his pyjamas, taking extra care with the last step into the kitchen. His curls were sticking up in every direction, his expression impassable and stony.

As soon as he saw Flora, his face became set in a grim scowl. Flora glared back at him as her eyes met his.

“Make me a cup of tea,” he ordered.

“Good morning to you too,” Flora replied coolly, “and no. Make it yourself.” She deposited the plates and cups into the sink, then stomped back into the sitting room before he could respond.

Regulus frowned deeply, looking at the kettle. He lifted it up, discovered it still had hot water in it and decided that was good enough; he found a clean mug on the draining board — a garish orange and green mug decorated with big flowers — and then paused when he realised he didn’t know where she kept the teabags or milk or sugar, or in what order all of those were supposed to go in. He stared at the mug and kettle blankly, wishing she would just come back and make the damn tea for him.

He followed her into the sitting room, glanced at Remus coolly, and held up the mug in front of Flora helplessly. “I don’t know how to do it.”

“You see what I have to put up with?” Flora said aside to Remus. “Figure it out, Regulus. I don’t feel well.” She had just wrapped a large crocheted blanket around herself and huddled herself up in the armchair by the fire, shivering.

“I don’t know where you keep anything!” Regulus retorted vehemently, his flickering from Flora’s moody face to Remus’ gleeful one, then back to Flora.

“Regulus,” Remus, who seemed to have just barely recovered from his fit of laughter, got up and took the cup from him. “Look, I’ll show you how to do it.”

“I don’t need showing,” Regulus snapped impatiently. “I need someone to make it for me.”

“No, I insist,” Remus said pointedly, striding into the kitchen. “It’ll make it easier for both of you.”

“Just make it for me!”

“Hell will freeze over before he even considers making his own cup of tea,” Flora interjected from the other room.

Remus sighed to himself. Despite Regulus’ refusal to learn how to use the kettle, Remus proceeded to explain each action as he did it anyway. But Regulus wasn’t listening. He just sat down and eyed Remus darkly from across the table.

“And then you press this button down,” Remus clicked down the switch on the kettle and looked back at the sour-faced boy. “And it boils the water.”

“Where is my brother?”

“Busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Remus turned his back to the kitchen counter and leaned back on his hands, answering vaguely and cryptically. “He’s out doing things.”

Regulus’ irritation visibly grew with this response. “Doing things?”

“Mm.”

“Things for the Order?”

“It doesn’t concern you, mate,” Remus replied calmly. “It’s nothing you’re missing out on.”

“Sirius said I’d be able to help,” he objected in frustration. “Instead I’m stuck here with that idiot muggle girl,” he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the sitting room, “doing fuck all — and do not call me mate.”

Flora heard his remark from the other room and just turned the television up louder.

A little smile pulled at Remus’ mouth. “I wouldn’t say you’re doing nothing, Regulus,” he returned again in his calm, unaffected voice. “With more practice, you and my sister could become great acrobats.”

Regulus’ cheeks flared up with colour. The kettle boiled at that moment and Remus turned around to make the tea, continuing to explain the entire process.

❦

That first rocky week passed into a second week, then a third and fourth. Soon Regulus had been there a whole month. Within that extensive length of time, he did not learn how to use the kettle or the toaster or microwave or any other item in the kitchen. He distrusted the television immensely and wouldn’t go near it, though Flora had caught him watching it once or twice whenever she had one of her programmes on. He stayed oddly close to her — not physically close, but he seemed to seek out her company even if it was to sit in sullen silence. He kept a strict distance of at least five feet from her at all times, however.

Sirius started bringing more things to keep Regulus entertained and happy: books of every variety, Quidditch magazines, sweets. He even brought him a set of new quills and ink, as Regulus refused to use the self-inking muggle pens to do the crosswords in the newspaper. This had delighted Flora and she started calling him Charles Dickens over the next few days, much to Regulus’s confusion and annoyance.

They settled into something they could have almost called a routine, though it was a wrought, challenging routine in which both remained wary and suspicious of the other. They still bickered, particularly when it came to Flora’s cooking. During one particularly heated disagreement, over a simple bowl of tomato soup Regulus insisted was too vile to eat, Flora had dumped the soup all over his white shirt and told him he was a cunt. They didn’t speak for days after that and Regulus removed himself completely from her presence, opting to hide in his room all day.

They were presently at a stalemate, saying little and regarding one another like two animals locked in a cage together. Flora could hardly stand it after another week. It was one thing to have a hostile guest mooching around the house, but another thing entirely to have a hostile guest who pointedly ignored his hostess. The uneasiness Flora had felt at the beginning of his stay began to creep up again; she couldn’t tell what his thoughts were. Nor could Regulus read her very well. The truth was that Regulus felt equally uneasy of Flora, though his reasoning was not fully-formed beyond the measure of her being a muggle. Flora could not, by any reason, harm him — unless she poisoned his food, which he considered a very real threat. However, he did not see her threat as potentially fatal, but more along the lines of feeding him bad food and making him ill. That had been why he’d objected to the soup; he thought she’d done something to it on account of her being, as he perceived, particularly contentious while she’d prepared it.

Flora was the first to break the tension one afternoon. It was a nice day, possibly the last nice day of September as the month died, when she put her book down and looked at Regulus from across the room. He’d started sitting in the same room as her again and was stretched out lazily on the sofa with his nose in the latest Quidditch Times magazine. He had a second magazine called Seeker Weekly on the floor beside him.

“It’s a nice day,” Flora said. She was sitting directly in front of the window with the autumn sun shining on her.

Regulus didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her.

“Isn’t it?” She prompted, speaking a little louder although she knew he’d heard her the first time.

Regulus’ sharp eyes shifted from the magazine to her, his brow knitted deeply. “What?”

“I said it’s a nice day,” Flora repeated, gritting her teeth and willing herself to be calm.

Regulus just grunted and looked back at his magazine, turning the page. Flora looked at the cover of the magazine for a moment, watching the moving picture of a beater flying in and out of frame.

“Did you play Quidditch?” She asked next.

Regulus didn’t look at her, but he answered, “Yes.”

“Sirius did too, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Chaser?”

“Mm.”

“What about you?”

He looked at her now, more out of irritation than anything else. “What is this, the Inquisition?” He snapped back, much to Flora’s amusement. He hadn’t known what the Spanish Inquisition was until last night when Monty Python had been on television. He’d been momentarily transfixed enough to lose interest in his Quidditch magazine.

“I’m just making conversation,” Flora replied with a little smirk.

Regulus huffed and closed his magazine. “I was a Seeker.”

“Are those the ones who go after the little golden ball?”

“It’s called the Snitch, and yes,” he returned coolly.

“Oh,” she nodded thoughtfully. After a beat, she asked, “Were you good at it?”

“Yes,” Regulus answered stiffly, “Slytherin won several games because of me.”

“Oh,” she nodded again. “That’s good.”

Regulus eyed her, trying to work out whether she was actually interested or just trying to vex him.

“Shall we go for a walk?” Flora asked suddenly.

“We?” He parroted. His usual scowl returned to darken his face.

“Yes, we. It’s a nice day.”

“It won’t be a nice day for long with you,” he quipped back.

Flora rolled her eyes. “Oh, piss off. Come on.”

Flora stood up from her seat but Regulus didn’t move. Flora took several steps closer and stood over him with her hands resting on her hips. “Come on.”

“No,” he opened his magazine again.

Flora was losing her temper. With little forethought, she impulsively reached out and snatched the magazine from his hands.

“Oi!” Regulus sat up straighter at once, his eyes flashing angrily. His hands fought back to stop her, tearing the cover of the magazine in the process, and grabbed her wrist as she held the magazine in the other hand out of his reach.

“Ow!” Flora cried out as he twisted the skin and pressed his fingers into the little bones of her wrist. She drew back and Regulus released her. “You little asshole, that hurt!”

Regulus actually looked surprised in that moment. He blinked, realising with some shame what he had done, then recovered himself and frowned. “Then don’t take my things!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Flora retorted, rubbing her wrist, “I just want to go for a walk!”

“You tore my magazine!”

“Well if you hadn’t grabbed it and—” she took a few brisk steps back when Regulus suddenly got up.

“Fine! We’ll go for a fucking walk!” He snapped angrily. “Anything to shut you up!”

“No,” Flora shook her head and turned her face away. Hot tears were brimming in her eyes and she didn’t want him to see. Her voice cracked. “No, I don’t want to anymore.”

Regulus froze when he saw the tears roll down Flora’s cheeks. He hadn't expected tears. Flora wiped at them furiously and let her hair fall in her forlorn face; she briefly looked at him when he didn’t speak, then looked away again just as quickly before wordlessly fleeing the room.

An unsettling feeling spread within the pit of Regulus' stomach; it swiftly ate away his pride and left only a hollowness, an acute discomfort that only doubled every time the image of Flora's watery, pained eyes flashed through his mind. 

Oh. Oh no. 

His mind was reeling.

Chapter Text

Seven

❦

Flora usually thought of her parents when she was upset. She couldn’t visualise their faces sometimes, remembering them only in nondescript, but oddly specific ways such as in her mother’s powdery perfume, her father’s rough chin, and even in certain lights and times of day; in the late summer afternoons, as the sun was getting low in the sky and the kitchen was cast in a golden glow, Flora would suddenly be reminded of her mother drifting around the room, of her father outside in the garden, smelling of fresh grass and earth. It reminded her of happier times with Remus too, when they played pretend games together, when his lycanthropy condition wasn’t so bad — granted, it always had been bad. But Remus had once been small enough for her father to handle. Flora, even now, had never seen her brother when he transformed.

After the disagreement with Regulus she’d stormed into her room and sought out the two-way mirror to contact Remus. She wanted her brother, but most of all she wanted her parents. She didn't want this unpleasant, nasty boy in her home any longer. Her mother would’ve sorted Regulus out in a heartbeat. Now she held hope her big brother would sort him out. But as she picked up the mirror, she hesitated. Her mother’s voice suddenly came to her:

Wrth gicio a brathu mae cariad yn magu.

Flora had spoken Welsh with her mother; her mother had taught her everything, anxious to keep her at home because she hadn’t been able to keep Remus at home. The devastation of her mother’s death left Flora very alone and very confused, unsure of how to navigate the world without her mother. But Flora never forgot the proverbs her mother often said.

While kicking and biting, love grows.

She’d said this whenever Flora and Remus fought. It came to her now. In truth, it irritated her a little to think these words as if they had anything to do with her and Regulus. Friendship, let alone any kind of love, was an impossibility. Flora threw the mirror aside and sat down on the floor of her bedroom, pulling her legs up to her chest, and cried. She didn’t care if Regulus heard her. She yearned suddenly for her mother, wishing beyond anything to feel her soft, doughy arms around her again. It wasn’t fair, she thought. It wasn’t fair she didn’t have a mother and it wasn’t fair she had to stay cooped up in the house all day. Especially with someone so hostile as Regulus.

Her thoughts drifted. Regulus had looked so startled when she’d started to cry; that intense, stony look had dissolved and almost softened. It was not something Flora saw often in his face, but she had glimpsed it a couple of times in the past month. It was a look that threw her every time, no matter how brief it was; it reminded her that even in spite of his airs, he was just a boy, and a scared one at that. He couldn’t leave the sanctuary of her home without putting himself in danger. Even Flora had more freedom than Regulus. Though Remus didn’t like her to leave the wards, she still had done so once or twice to go into town just to get away from Regulus for an hour.

The idea of getting away from Regulus for a while appealed to her greatly in this moment. Flora decided she would do that now before self-pity and grief fully consumed her. Her tears had stemmed somewhat and she couldn’t bear sitting there on the floor any longer. Wiping her face, she stood up and leaned over her dressing table to fix her makeup. Her dressing table was decorated with photos of her and Remus, her mother and father; it was also cluttered with a variety of cosmetics and perfumes, things she didn’t really need these days because there was nobody (barring Sirius) that she wanted to impress. On the other hand, it wouldn’t do to have Regulus think her unattractive, especially when he was so attractive. Flora was loathe to admit it, but it was true. Regulus was handsome. So each morning, like a ritual, she meticulously applied her makeup and took care with her appearance.

It had been a little over half an hour since she’d left Regulus downstairs. He was still there in the living room when she came down, but he didn’t step out to meet her until she’d put her coat on, picked up a net shopping bag and opened the front door.

She’d known he was there, of course, and had known he might approach at any moment, but it still surprised her when she heard his sharp voice suddenly demand, “Where are you going?”

She turned. He was in the doorway, his eyes fixed on her. Though his tone had been abrupt, he didn’t look combative or aggressive. He looked slightly worried, particularly as he swallowed thickly, noticeable enough for Flora to observe his Adam’s apple in his pale throat.

“No where that concerns you,” Flora replied.

“You have a shopping bag,” he nodded to her hand.

“Yes.”

“Are you going into the muggle town?”

It occurred to Flora to say something sarcastic to this question, but she really couldn’t be bothered with him right now, so instead she said sternly, “Yes, and you’re staying here.”

He moved into the kitchen and made a beeline for his wool coat hanging on the hatstand by the door. Flora scowled.

“Are you deaf?” She snapped.

“I heard you,” he replied coolly with his coat draped over his arm elegantly. He dipped down to pick up his boots, which were near Flora and at once caused her to take a quick step back. His curls just scarcely brushed her knee. “I’m coming too.”

“You absolutely are not,” Flora jumped into action and proceeded to turn away, pulling the door closed behind her. Regulus’ hand caught the edge of the door and forced it back again. He had one boot on and the other half on his foot with the laces trailing. He was smirking a little, his eyes oddly playful.

“You wanted me to go for a walk with you before,” he said, following her out of the house quickly. The air was crisp, but the sun was still bright in the sky. Regulus stumbled as he tied his boot and then hurriedly pulled his coat on.

“Yes, but not into town,” Flora said, walking fast. “And that was before you were being a dickhead anyway.”

“I thought I always was,” he replied challengingly.

“You are,” Flora said through gritted teeth. She stopped and spun around to face him. “Go back inside!”

Flora hadn’t realised how close he’d been behind her, so her sudden stop brought them almost toe-to-toe. Regulus, being several inches taller than her, had to quickly slow his momentum so he didn’t topple over her. They both stopped, meeting each other’s eyes in surprise, and then quickly took a few steps back. Flora folded her arms, glowering up at him. “You’re not coming,” she said again with finality.

“Why not?” His smooth forehead furrowed.

“A couple of reasons, actually,” Flora answered at once. “For one, I’ve seen what Sirius is like in muggle towns, and he actually likes muggles. Your sort are not discreet. Second, even I’m not supposed to be going into town. Remus will go mad if he finds out I’ve gone, let alone taken you along too. And additionally, I don’t want to walk with you. Not after you almost broke my wrist.”

Regulus scoffed. “I did not nearly break your wrist!”

“I don’t care. It hurt.”

Regulus just stared at her. Flora glared back. “And you won’t even apologise to me.”

“I swear I won’t draw attention,” he said quickly, ignoring what she’d just said and drawing back to her initial points. “And I won’t tell Sirius or your brother that you took me into town.”

“No, I know. Because you’re not going!”

“Nothing will happen though,” he insisted. “There’s no Death Eater activity around here, and the full moon just passed a day ago, so I expect the werewolves will be resting.”

Flora made a dismissive sound and turned her head aside, scowling at the garden gate. He made a fair, reasonable point.

“Please,” he continued, “Just for an hour.”

Flora turned her face to look at him again. “I thought you hated muggles. The town will be entirely muggles. Can you really bear such a horrible thing?”

"I can put up with it for an hour if it means I can get out of the house.”

“Why can’t you just go for a walk in the woods?”

“I’ve walked every inch of those woods,” he frowned.

Flora knew she wasn’t going to win this fight. He was going to follow her regardless of what she said, and so she finally conceded, albeit with heavy reluctance.

“Fine!” She huffed. “One hour though. And you’re not to leave my side, do you understand?”

Regulus’ face brightened at once. He smiled, actually truly smiled. It was a small smile, but one which briefly showed his teeth. Flora stared back at him, bewildered, and quickly turned and walked off ahead of him.

It was around a twenty minute journey into town, and Flora counted this as part of the hour they would be spending outside of the magical wards. They had a hill to walk down, which was where the confine ended; Flora knew when they walked through the wards because she always got a ringing in her ears as they neared it, which then abruptly stopped as they walked through it. Regulus kept a close pace behind her. They didn’t talk and Flora preferred it that way.

They continued to traverse downward, soon approaching other muggle houses in a clearing along the road. Flora paused as they reached the main road to ensure Regulus stayed beside her; his eyes were wide as he observed passing cars, though they were sparse. It was a winding country road with little traffic and no real footpath for pedestrians. They had to walk along a grassy bank.

“Don’t wander too far into the road,” Flora warned.

“What is that?” Regulus asked as a great green-and-yellow tractor came barrelling down the road. He suddenly stood much closer to Flora, right at her elbow, shrinking even closer as it clattered past them.

“A tractor,” Flora said when it had passed. “It’s for farms.”

“It’s loud.”

He was frowning to himself, his head turned as he watched it grow smaller and smaller into the distance. He then turned and continued to walk beside Flora, speeding up to keep with her pace.

“Stop walking so fast,” he huffed.

“Stop walking so slow.”

Flora was still deeply irritated with him. She’d wanted to walk alone to clear her head and let her emotions settle. Her wrist didn’t hurt anymore, but she still kept touching it, rubbing her thumb over the bone absently. There was a faint red mark on her skin. Regulus noticed, but he didn’t say anything; apologising to a muggle was so far beneath him. He shoved his hands in his deep coat pockets and trudged along beside her.

Flora stopped suddenly as they reached a tall post with a sign. Regulus blinked, confused.

“Why have we stopped here?”

“To catch the bus,” Flora replied. “There will be one in a few minutes.”

“The bus?” Regulus looked stunned and then outraged.

“Don’t you know what a bus is either?”

“I know what a bus is,” he snapped back. “Doesn’t mean I’ve ever been on one. I’ve never even been on the Knight Bus.”

“Well,” Flora shrugged, “This should be a thrilling new experience for you.”

“I am not getting on a filthy muggle bus!”

“Go back to the cottage then.”

“Why can’t we walk into the town?” He said impatiently.

“Because it’s over two miles away and I’m not walking that distance with someone as unpleasant as you.”

Regulus’ jaw clenched. To Flora, he looked like a toddler on the verge of having a tantrum. But then he seemed to give in, albeit angrily, leaning against the bus stop post. He didn’t say another word, and wouldn’t speak to her even when they got on the bus. Flora paid his fare, of course, and he followed her to two empty seats. He hesitated as Flora sat down by the window, eyeing the bus seats with disgust.

“I am not sitting down on that,” he said haughtily. As he said this, the bus pulled off the curb and caused Regulus to stumble quite violently, forcing him to grab the metal pole in order to steady himself. Flora smirked. Regulus quickly sat down, glowering. He glared at anyone who dared look at him, even a small child in a pram who had waved at him with sticky fingers. Muggles were muggles.

“It smells,” he grumbled to Flora. “It’s disgusting. Open the window.”

Flora smacked the side of his leg without looking at him. “Shut up.”

They reached town around fifteen minutes later. Regulus’ sour mood had increased monumentally in this short time, and he certainly didn’t appreciate it when Flora prodded his back to make him move to the front of the bus in order to get off.

“That was the worst experience of my life,” Regulus declared quite seriously once they were standing on the high street.

Flora raised an eyebrow. “I am absolutely positive that’s not true, Regulus."

He narrowed his eyes on her and then looked away with his sharp nose in the air. He frowned about at his new environment, eyeing every man, woman and child he saw with deep disdain.

“Come on,” Flora said. “We’re just getting food and some bits.”

Regulus slouched along behind her. His bad mood was not lost of Flora and it was starting to put her in a bad mood too — or rather, a worse mood than she had been in previously. She was highly aware of him as they walked down the busy street. Each time she glanced over her shoulder to check he was still there, she was met with a grimace, as if she had forced him to come out with her. She simply could not work this boy out.

They walked into a small shop. Flora picked up a basket and handed it to Regulus. “You hold this,” she said.

Regulus looked at her like she’d grown two heads. “What?” He spat.

“See those there?” Flora pointed to his white bony hands, “Use them and hold the damn basket.”

She shoved the basket towards his hands and he begrudgingly took it, frowning deeply and muttering something under his breath about house elves and being a slave. He still dutifully followed Flora though, keeping close to her side as she went up and down the aisles putting mostly snack foods and puddings into the basket. They had all the essentials at home already. This trip was purely for the indulgence.

Regulus stared at everything around him, at the food on the shelves, at the people meandering up and down the aisles. Flora sharply elbowed him in the arm as they walked down the fridge aisle.

“Would you stop staring?” She hissed. “You look like a weirdo.”

Regulus looked indignant and rubbed his arm. “I am not a weirdo,” he replied in a rather offended tone.

Flora snorted softly. “Right.”

Regulus turned his attention away and instead looked at the ice-cream in the deep freezers. He stopped, leaned over.

“Can we get this?” He pulled out a tub of chocolate ice-cream.

Flora looked over her shoulder to see what he was talking about, and then frowned at him. “It will melt before we get home.”

He looked confused. “Melt?”

“Yes, melt,” Flora replied a little impatiently. “What do you think ice-cream does if you take it out the freezer?”

“In my world,” he began haughtily, “it doesn’t melt. No matter how long you leave it. Even on a hot day.”

“Good for you,” she said.

“Your world is so inferior,” he grumbled, putting the ice-cream back. He had a slight pout on his lips, and his eyes lingered on the tub for a moment.

“Fine,” Flora huffed, conceding for the second time that day with him. “But don’t blame me if it’s melted by the time we get back.”

His eyes lit up like a child. He grabbed the tub and quickly dropped it in the basket like he was afraid Flora would change her mind. Flora rolled her eyes, but the whole exchange had made her suddenly feel softer towards him; it was oddly endearing to see him so happy about something as simple as ice-cream. She abruptly shook the feeling away. It was fair to assume that Regulus had had very little to make him happy in the last month, the least she could do was allow this and share his little bit of happiness.

❦

It was overall a short, uneventful trip out, but it did make Flora feel a little better by the time they disembarked the bus and trudged their way back up the hill. Flora made Regulus carry the bags, which surprisingly he didn’t object to — in truth, it was because Flora made an offhanded comment about how skinny he was, which Regulus took rather personally and felt the need to prove his masculinity.

They walked a little faster on account of the ice-cream, only Regulus stopped short and put his arm in front of Flora as they neared the wards, halting her in her tracks too.

“What?” Flora said, at first irritated, but then concerned when she saw the look on his face. “What?”

Regulus’ face was drawn tight, his body still like an animal listening for a predator. “There’s someone at the house,” he said in a low voice. Regulus, of course, had no wand and was just as helpless as Flora if anyone had come to attack them.

“Well, it’s probably Remus or Sirius,” Flora replied.

“It’s not.”

“How in the world do you kn—”

“Just shut up,” he snapped. “Stay behind me.”

Regulus walked ahead with caution, crossing through the wards with Flora at his heels. As they got closer to the cottage, they saw a young woman standing with her back to the two of them; she had long red hair and was wearing deep emerald-coloured witches’ robes.

“It’s Clem!” Flora said suddenly, pushing past Regulus.

Regulus blinked. He instinctively reached for Flora’s arm to prevent her running, but quickly realised there was no need. As Flora ran up the path to the garden gate, the young woman turned and frowned deeply.

“Flora, how many times?” The woman said with exasperation, “How many times has Remus told you not to go anywhere?”

“Sorry, I know,” Flora admitted, though she did not sound particularly remorseful. “We just went to the shops. We were barely gone an hour.”

The young woman, named Clem, moved her eyes over Flora to settle on Regulus. She eyed him with unveiled animosity and suspicion. Regulus suddenly recognised her. Clementine Blackstone. She’d been in Sirius’ year, but a Slytherin.

“Regulus,” was all Clementine said in way of greeting him.

“Clementine,” he returned stiffly, walking up behind Flora with the bags still in his hands.

Clementine suddenly smirked. “You got him to carry the shopping? I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, he wanted to prove he has muscles,” Flora replied dismissively, making Regulus bristle. “But hang on a sec, do you know each other?”

“Of course I know Baby Black,” she replied, causing Regulus to ruffle again. “We were both in Slytherin.”

“Oh,” Flora said. She felt a little silly she’d never assumed Regulus and Clem would know each other.

“I came to see what was going on. Remus did some extra work on the wards, so now I know — and Remus knows — whenever you leave.”

“What is this, house arrest?” Flora scowled.

“Why do you know?” Regulus spoke up, regarding her with equal distrust.

Clementine fixed her grey eyes back on Regulus. “Because I am a trusted member of the Order, that’s why.”

Regulus said nothing to this. There was sudden, palpable tension between them that Flora could not comprehend. Regulus had clammed up again, choosing to say nothing, though he clearly had a lot to say. Held up the bag containing the ice-cream, looking at Flora instead, and said, “This will be melting. Shouldn’t you put it in that cold box?”

“Yes,” Flora took the bag with a little sigh and walked into the kitchen. The door was already open, as Clementine had easily unlocked it with her wand to inspect the premises.

“You had me worried,” Clementine said, following Flora into the cottage. “I’d hoped you’d only gone to the shops, but I was at least expecting to find Regulus here.”

“Sorry to disappoint. He wanted to come with me,” Flora explained vaguely as she put the ice-cream and other shopping away. Her mood had dampened again.

“He did?” Her surprise was evident at once and she looked quickly at Regulus, who was presently scowling back at her.

“I think he regretted it when he realised we had to take the bus.”

“I am still here, you know,” Regulus said indignantly.

“We know,” Clementine replied to him. She looked at Flora again. “You can’t be leaving the wards again, okay?”

“Why not?” Flora demanded challengingly. “I highly doubt a werewolf is going to snatch me away in the middle of a busy high street in broad daylight.”

“There’s a lot of empty country lanes and woods around here before you get near town,” Clementine countered. “We know they’ve been around here. You can’t go anywhere.”

“It isn’t fair,” Flora said, feeling a little pathetic as she said it. But there was nothing else she could think to say. It was the truth and it was how she felt.

“I know it isn’t,” Clementine said in a slightly softer tone. “But just please… please do as Remus instructs. He’s just trying to protect you.”

“He’s doing too much.”

Clementine sighed, leaning back against the kitchen counter. She weakly smiled. “It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it? Remus has something nice planned for you.”

“Is he actually going to stay for this one?”

“It’s not going to be a full moon, so yes.”

Flora turned the kettle on and mechanically began making tea as she talked to Clementine. Regulus watched her this time, mentally noting the process just in case he ever needed to make one by himself. He listened in silence to the conversation between the two of them, taking no part in any of it because he knew he was not welcome.

He didn’t speak until Clementine left some twenty minutes later, and it was to ask Flora, “When is your birthday?”

Flora gave him a funny look. “Next Saturday.”

Regulus only nodded. Flora had taken the ice-cream out of the freezer and served them each a bowl, which they ate at the table together.

“I… I’m sorry I hurt your wrist,” Regulus said after a long moment.

Flora paused, stunned. He wasn’t looking at her; his eyes were downcast, but he sounded sincere and looked so sheepish, like he would break if she didn’t accept the apology.

“It’s okay…” she replied.

There seemed nothing more to say. Regulus ate a little faster and put his dish in the sink when he had finished. Flora looked at him, hoping for some reason that he would speak again, say something, anything, but he avoided her eye; he skulked off upstairs to his room, leaving Flora alone in the kitchen.

Chapter Text

Eight

❦

It had been peculiar when Regulus apologised. Peculiar because he so clearly believed he was above apologising to anyone, let alone a muggle, but more peculiar because of the feelings it stirred in Flora — feelings it stirred in both of them. In that brief moment, Regulus had done something he felt was akin to biting his own finger off; he’d apologised to a muggle and wasn’t entirely sure what had pushed him to do it. The only person he’d ever apologised to in his life was Sirius, or perhaps his father once or twice, but that was only because his mother made him and not out of any genuine remorse. But he’d felt remorse this time, an uneasy feeling not too dissimilar to when he first realised he might be on the wrong side of the war. Her tears had shaken him; he’d never meant to hurt her.

When Regulus went up to his room that night, it was to get away from her. He couldn’t bear to look at her face, to read the confusion or worse, perhaps even a little smugness, in her eyes. He hadn’t looked at her when he apologised because he was afraid she would gloat. He half expected Sirius to make a fuss when he came the following day, but he never mentioned anything about it. Evidently, Flora hadn’t told him. Sirius was more concerned about them leaving the wards, and then Remus came later and gave them double a warning.

There was nothing to do but tolerate one another. They found peace in sitting in the living room together (still at a considerable distance), and Regulus began to find it oddly comforting to sit in the living room while Flora cooked in the kitchen next door.

“Dinner’s ready,” Flora called to him one evening. It was the day before her birthday.

Regulus put his latest Quidditch magazine aside and heaved himself up from the sunken armchair. Flora was just setting two bowls of what looked like stew down on the table as he stepped into the kitchen. She smiled faintly, briefly, and pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. They hadn’t argued in three days.

“I made lobscows,” Flora said as they both sat down.

“Lobs-what?” Regulus blinked, at once wary.

“It’s a Welsh dish. My mam used to make it,” Flora replied. “Don’t look so suspicious. It’s just lamb and vegetables. I thought with the weather getting colder, this would be nice.”

Regulus poked the meat and vegetables around with his spoon for a moment, then scooped up a portion and began to eat. It was delicious, but he’d never tell Flora that. Flora took his lack of commentary, good or bad, to mean he liked it and was thus satisfied.

“There’s bread there too,” Flora pointed to the wooden cutting board loaded with slabs of fresh, warm bread.

“Did you make the bread?”

“Mhm,” Flora nodded.

Regulus took a piece and broke off a portion to dip in the stew. Again, it tasted wonderful, but he said nothing.

“Do you like it?” Flora ventured.

Regulus raised his eyes to meet hers for a moment, looking at her through his long eyelashes. “It’s alright,” he conceded, quickly looking down again and shovelling more food into his mouth.

They lapsed into silence for five minutes, both eating, occupied with their own thoughts. Flora stared across the room as she ate while Regulus firmly kept his eyes on his dinner, as though he were afraid to let his gaze wander anywhere else.

“Remus and Sirius are coming over tomorrow,” Flora said.

“For your birthday?” Regulus mumbled, his eyes still locked on his food.

“You remembered?” Flora smiled, looking at him.

Regulus glanced up at this, frowning a little. “It’s not like I have much else to think about around here.”

“I’m going to be eighteen.”

“Hm.”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Oh,” Flora started in surprise at this revelation, smiling a little. “We’re nearly the same age."

Regulus didn’t reply. He reached for some more bread and used it to soak up the dregs of his stew, which he had thoroughly enjoyed.

“When is your birthday?” Flora asked.

“June.”

“June what?”

“The twenty-fifth.”

“It must be nice to have a summer birthday,” Flora said.

Regulus shrugged. “It doesn’t make any difference one way or another.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t enjoy birthdays,” he replied.

“What? Why not?”

Regulus paused a moment as he considered his answer; he considered whether he should elaborate at all. But what did it matter, he reasoned. He was stuck with the girl, so he may as well talk to her.

“My mother would always organise a big family gathering. All my cousins would be there, my aunts, uncles, grandparents…” he began to explain. He’d finished his stew and was now nibbling on the remaining pieces of bread. “I don’t like the fuss. And my cousin Bellatrix is a walking nightmare. She pushed me down a well on my ninth birthday.”

Flora stared in disbelief. “She pushed you down a well?”

“Not a deep well,” he clarified vaguely.

“You poor thing,” Flora said, genuinely heartfelt. “Were you hurt?”

“Not badly,” Regulus replied, looking at Flora now. “I landed in stagnant water. Shallow, luckily, and there were a lot of old leaves below. But I’ll never forget the smell.”

“How awful.”

“But… I take it you like birthdays?” Regulus said.

“I liked them more when my parents were alive, but yes,” Flora nodded. “As long as I still have Remus, I love celebrating my birthday. And Remus’ birthday too. His is in March, so it’s already passed, but we had a good time.”

"Is Remus really your brother?" Regulus asked with a small frown. 

"He's my half-brother."

"So," he looked perplexed, "Are you a squib?"

"No," she shook her head. "Both my parents were muggles. Remus' father died when he was small, and my mam remarried and had me."

“What happened to your parents?”

Flora shrugged, glancing down at her empty bowl. "Remus said it was a home invasion gone wrong."

Regulus understood she didn’t want to explain further and was about to change the subject when she quickly added, “That’s what Remus tells me, anyway.”

Regulus considered her words, her look. He regarded her for a moment, then replied carefully, “What do you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“You said it like you don’t believe him.”

“Because I don’t,” Flora agreed.

Regulus again paused to reflect and think about his next question. “You think it was… was something to do with my world?”

“Quite certain actually,” Flora replied, picking up her bowl and his. She stacked them together and stood up to take them to the sink. "He's very evasive about it. And why would anyone try to rob this old house?"

Regulus suddenly understood. “Oh…”

“Sirius and his friend James came and took me to a safe house for a while. They never directly told me what happened. But now he keeps me here with all these wards and charms around the house."

“Well, that’s quite understandable.”

She cast him an irritated look. “I've been stuck here for three years. And now he's locking me down even more because of that stupid Nazi wizard. I was supposed to go to university this year.”

Flora was met with a blank stare. “What is university?” He asked.

“A place to further your education. To get a degree. I was going to read English at Cambridge.”

“Well, you can read here, can’t you?”

Flora sighed and turned away to begin the washing up. “You don’t understand.”

She was very right. Regulus didn’t understand. He looked away and stared across the room idly, then shifted his eyes to look at the back of her head. Flora didn’t say another word while she washed the dishes, but Regulus heard her singing softly under her breath. He remained sitting at the table while Flora cleaned, observing her silently, quickly lowering his gaze whenever she turned her head slightly.

"What's a Nazi?" he asked after a long moment of deliberation. 

Flora turned to him in surprise. "What?"

"What you said a, uh, a Nazi wizard. What does that mean?"

Flora regarded him as she considered her next words, unsure of how to proceed explaining such a significant portion of muggle history to a pureblood wizard who didn't even know how a toaster worked. 

"The Nazis were a political group in Germany during the Second World War who, among other things, attempted to dominate Europe," Flora began, speaking much like a teacher explaining something to a student. "It was led by a man named Adolf Hitler. He believed Germans were the superior race and he garnered a lot of followers."

Regulus' eyebrows furrowed as he tried to absorb this history lesson. "So, these Nazis... they believed themselves to be superior to others?"

"Yes," Flora put the last plate aside on the drying rack. She didn't say anything more on the matter, half fearing she might be rekindling his pureblood sentiments, but she added for good measure, "They murdered a lot of people. Jews, namely. You can look it up yourself. They were evil."

Regulus leaned back in his chair, his gaze dropping to the table. He was deep in thought, assimilating the information Flora had given him. The more he heard, the more uneasy he became.

After a moment of silence, Regulus spoke up again, his voice quieter than before.

"They sound familiar."

Flora nodded wordlessly and wiped down the kitchen counter before turning around again. “D’you want to watch telly with me?” she asked, anxious to change the subject. 

Regulus straightened up. "I'll read," he said, taking up his latest Quidditch magazine. He followed Flora into the living room and sat at the other end of the sofa while she settled down to watch Are You Being Served? 

❦

The next day was Flora’s birthday. Remus and Sirius arrived just before dinnertime, for which Flora had prepared an array of sandwiches, a cheese quiche, salad, and many other things. Both Remus and Sirius were in good spirits; they brought gifts and flowers for Flora. Sirius kissed her cheek and caused her to blush deeply, which nobody but Regulus noticed. He eyed her and made a low noise in his throat, a scoff not even Flora heard.

Remus brought her a chocolate cake, which he had made himself, and gifted her a chocolate frog, some sugar quills, and a beautiful, leather-bound, gilded copy of Wuthering Heights; from Sirius she received a wizards’ chess set and another chocolate frog.

“It’s beautiful… But I don’t know how to play chess,” Flora said when she had unwrapped the gift and looked it over.

“Regulus can teach you,” Sirius smiled. His younger brother scowled.

“No, thanks,” Flora said quickly.

Sirius laughed softly and reached for the chess board, spreading his long fingers across the surface. “Then I’ll teach you later.”

And so he did. After lunch had been cleared away, Sirius set up in the living room with her on the coffee table. Remus watched closely with interest, telling Flora which moves to make, while Regulus ate some sweets Sirius had brought for him. Flora was no good at chess, even with Remus and Sirius telling her where to move the pieces; she was baffled, struggling to remember the rules as they played, and was more entranced by the way the figures moved by themselves across the board. They played a total of three games. He let Flora win the last game.

“I’m sure with some practice,” Sirius said as they cleared the board away, “You’ll get it.”

“Then I’ll have to wait for you and Remus to play with me,” Flora replied. She picked up the book Remus had given her and flipped through it, admiring the illustrations included in this particular edition.

“This is my favourite novel, Remus, thank you,” she said to him for the second time that day.

Remus smiled benignly. “I know it is. It was mam’s favourite too.”

“Yes,” Flora said quietly. Her eyes momentarily fixed on her brother and then looked away. There was an uncomfortable feeling in the room for just a second before Flora spoke again, smiling, “Shall we have some cake?”

“We haven’t sung happy birthday to you yet,” said Sirius.

“Oh, no, don’t,” Flora laughed, covering her face.

But Sirius was already on his feet, heading for the kitchen with Remus. Flora pulled her legs up comfortably on the sofa and glanced over at Regulus; he’d said very little except to criticise her chess skills and he said nothing now. He was picking at some fluff on his trousers.

Remus and Sirius returned barely a minute later, Remus carrying the cake now lit with candles. Sirius was beaming at his side.

“HAAAAPPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUU—Come on, Reggie. Join in.”

Regulus, with his arms folded across his chest, glowered and turned his head aside. He did not join in. Flora clapped when Sirius and Remus had finished singing, laughing happily as she blew out her candles.

“Did you make the cake, Remus?” Flora asked, looking up at her brother.

Remus looked a little sheepish and nodded once, shrugging. “I did my best. I brought this for you too,” he revealed a bottle of white wine he’d been holding behind his back. “Since you’re grown up now, you can have some. There’s another bottle in the kitchen too.”

“You think I haven’t had wine before?” Flora raised an eyebrow.

Remus smiled and shook his head. “Want some now?”

They all shared the wine and the cake. It was a delicious cake; Flora was impressed. All that was left to do was dance. Flora rushed to her record player, immediately putting on a Blondie single with even more Blondie singles lined up. Regulus had become more sullen because Sirius had tried to put a party hat on his head, but he stayed in the room, sipping his wine and watching Flora dance around with Remus as they became increasingly intoxicated. It turned out Sirius had also brought a bottle of fire whiskey, which although Flora didn’t like, she still took a shot from.

“Oh, it’s horrid!” She cried, making a face as the whiskey burned her throat.

Sirius laughed and took a swig from the bottle himself. He then put it aside and took hold of Flora’s hands, pulling her into the centre of the room with him. Remus had just changed the record to ‘Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy’ by Queen, which now reverberated off the walls.

Regulus was the only one still sitting down, glum as ever. That was, at least, until he saw Sirius leading Flora along in some close-bodied swaying and twirling; he raised himself slightly, fixating his sharp eyes on the pair of them.

A sudden, strange feeling settled in his chest, a feeling he was certainly not familiar with. It felt like someone was twisting and squeezing something inside him. It was not a particularly strong feeling, but it was noticeable enough for him to become uncomfortable as he watched Flora and his brother. The only time he could ever recall this feeling was when he was ten or eleven, when he grew sweet on a girl he often saw around Diagon Alley. He’d felt this exact feeling when he saw her talking to another boy: jealousy. 

It was sudden, like he’d been standing on a rug that had been pulled from under his feet. But he still said nothing, did nothing. His judgment was impaired, he thought, considering he was on his second glass of wine and he probably had a touch of cabin fever anyway. He felt spiteful too. Flora looked thrilled to be dancing with Sirius; her cheeks were pink, her eyes were wide and bright. He wanted to grab Flora by the shoulders, shake her and tell her Sirius would never, will never, ever feel that way about her. He couldn’t fathom how she hadn’t worked it out yet, but then again he wondered whether he would’ve realised if he hadn’t seen it himself. But Flora was clearly besotted with Sirius.

Regulus stood up and took himself out of the room. Nobody bothered to ask where he was going, though Sirius glanced aside at him. He went upstairs to the toilet, relieved in the moment to be away from the noise below, however short-lived that may be. When he returned downstairs, Sirius was in the kitchen pouring himself more wine and cutting another slice of cake for Remus.

“Alright, Reg?” Sirius said without looking up at his little brother.

Regulus wasn’t sure what made him say it. Maybe it was the wine again, maybe it was simply that he saw the opportunity. But he didn’t hesitate in that moment; the music was still playing loudly in the other room, meaning there was no chance of being overheard.

“You shouldn’t do that to her,” he said in the most matter-of-fact way.

Sirius met his eyes, frowning. “Do what to who?”

“Dance with her,” Regulus replied steadily. “With Flora.”

At first, Sirius looked deeply confused. But then he thought he understood and gave his brother his usual little grin, a playful grin, and said, “Oh? Why’s that? Are you jealous?”

“No,” Regulus snapped back at once, scowling deeply. “No, certainly not.”

“Then why can’t I dance with her, Reg?”

“Because you’re a-a… a queer,” Regulus said with some reluctance.

Sirius at once bristled. “So what?”

“She doesn’t know you’re queer.”

“I’m not a queer,” Sirius snarled back in a low voice. “I like girls too. And I’ll thank you to shut up about it.”

“Doesn’t matter whether you like girls or not,” Regulus replied shortly. “She likes you and she doesn’t realise you’re with-with her brother.”

“Flora is like my sister,” Sirius blinked. “Like a little sister.”

“I don’t think she sees it that way.”

“I was just dancing with her. What’s it to you, anyway?” He challenged. “I thought you didn’t like her.”

“I don’t like her,” Regulus replied quickly, scoffing in disgust.

“Seems like you do, given how concerned you are.”

“I’m the one who has to put up with her everyday,” Regulus said stiffly. “If you upset her, then it’s all I’ll know about for weeks. I still remember when Evan’s girlfriend dumped him in fifth year. He didn’t get over that for ages.”

“Yeah, well, aren’t all your friends little whiny babies?” Sirius deflected. “Like you?”

“I’m just trying to make my time here easier,” Regulus glared.

“Don’t say anything to her about me and Remus,” Sirius said warningly. “Remus doesn’t want her to know. Not yet. Just promise me you won’t.”

“Like I want to discuss such a thing as that with her,” Regulus said, screwing up his nose.

The music in the other room stopped and so did the conversation between the brothers. There was little else Regulus could say without his brother jumping to the conclusion that he was jealous and madly in love with Flora anyway, so he said nothing more on the matter and went back into the living room to sit sullenly in the corner.

To some extent, Sirius did keep his distance for the rest of the afternoon and kept encouraging Remus to dance instead. They stayed all day, well into the evening, and didn’t leave until nearly eleven o’clock. By that time, Flora was quite drunk and half asleep on the sofa. She waved lazily when Remus and Sirius said goodbye, then laid there a while longer after they’d gone. The room was silent; only the the record, which had finished playing some moments ago, made a soft sound as the needle skipped over and over the empty space. It was like a whisper, both calming and empty in its monotony.

Regulus stood up. “I’m going to bed.”

Flora grunted in response, her face hidden deep in the cushions. Regulus assumed she would be staying there all night. He walked up the stairs to his room and began to undress, pulling off his shirt before anything else because he had been too warm sitting so close to the fire. He jumped when he heard a creak by his doorway, turning around to see Flora just passing his room; he’d left the door open and she instantly looked his way, at first locking eyes with his and then tracking them over his bare, lean chest. It was covered with pale, claw-like scars, as was his back, which she had seen briefly before he turned. At first, she said nothing. The alcohol made her head swirl, clouding her understanding of just what she was witnessing. Her eyes lingered on his bare chest for a moment before returning to his face.

“God, I should feed you more,” she said finally, giggling.

Regulus narrowed his eyes and snatched up his shirt. “Go away.”

“Like a bloody beanpole,” Flora muttered, still smirking. She leaned against his doorframe, resting her head on the wooden frame.

His lips compressed at the jab. Even if it was lighthearted, he did not find it funny.

“I said go away,” he strode over to the door, half closing it. He couldn’t close it fully because Flora was still there. She’d shut her eyes and was smiling, holding her arms around herself.

“It was a nice party, wasn’t it?” She said.

“Barely tolerable, I’d say,” Regulus replied tensely. “Like you.”

“That’s more than I can say for you,” she said, opening her eyes again to look at him.

He was not looking for a verbal fight with her today. They’d managed a whole week without fighting, it would be a pity to start now, but he could never let it go once they started.

“You’re hardly in a position to make a judgement about me,” he retorted, stiffening his stance even more. “You’re the least bearable person I’ve ever met. Why are you still here?”

She had just insulted him and yet remained in the doorway, looking at him like she wanted to be there, like she had arrived for the sole purpose of starting an argument.

“It’s my house,” she replied simply.

“I don’t mean in the house,” he replied irritably. “I mean why are you still in my bedroom?”

“I am not in your bedroom,” Flora frowned. “That’d be disgusting.”

“You’re in my bedroom doorway,” he snapped back. “Go away. I want to go to bed.”

“You don’t tell me what to do.”

Though annoyed and he wanted to keep arguing with her, he knew it was stupid. So instead he shrugged, and moved his hands down to the button of his trousers as though to resume undressing for bed. “Fine, stay then. I sleep naked.”

This worked. Flora at once drew back, making a face. “Ugh!”

Regulus cocked a satisfied smirk at her and he swiftly slammed the door shut. He heard Flora tread away up the hallway, muttering loudly about the terrible image he had just given her and shouting a very aggressive ‘goodnight!’ at him before slamming her own bedroom door.

“Goodnight,” he muttered back under his breath.

Chapter Text

Nine 

❦

Flora didn’t so much as have a headache when she woke up the following morning, but her mouth was dry and she felt a little dizzy. She was laying on her belly with one arm wrapped around her pillow. Down the hallway she could hear the pipes groaning, meaning Regulus was washing or showering in the bathroom. She shut her eyes again for a moment, groggy, but desperately wanting a drink. After a few minutes of deliberation, she heaved herself up, pulled her dressing gown and slippers on and slouched across the room to her door. Regulus opened the bathroom door at exactly the same moment. They stood face-to-face.

“Oh, not again,” Flora grumbled, averting her eyes. “Would you please put a shirt on.”

Regulus cast a dark look at her. He was only wearing his jeans again, but had left his shirt in his bedroom while he washed and brushed his teeth. He wordlessly swept across the hallway to his room, shutting the door behind him. Flora then continued her path downstairs to the kitchen, mindlessly putting the kettle on and then filling up a glass of water.

It was the first of October. Flora flipped over the calendar on the wall while she waited for the kettle to boil, studying a scenic autumn picture that portrayed that month. Outside looked very much the same as in the picture; the trees around the cottage were all in colour, as was the ground where leaves of red, orange and yellow hues had fallen. The dark, grey sky seemed to hang very low over the mountains in the distance.

Regulus appeared now, fully dressed; he didn’t greet Flora, except for a small grunt, and he went to look out the window. The kettle finished boiling and Flora set to work making tea.

“Do you want one?” Flora asked a little begrudgingly.

“Huh?” He didn’t turn or look at her.

“A cup of tea.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

He looked at her now, frowning. “Yes, please, if you’d be so kind,” he said sarcastically.

“Manners cost nothing,” Flora replied shortly. She took down a second mug from the cupboard.

“Yeah, well they’re wasted on you,” he said haughtily, turning back to look out the window.

Flora put the mug back. She didn’t say a word while she continued to make a cup of tea for herself; she walked off into the living room, softly blowing the steam off her cup, and sat down in her usual spot. Regulus turned as she passed by, looking for the cup of tea he expected to see sitting on the table. He followed her to the living room, frowning when he still couldn’t see his drink anywhere.

“Where’s mine?” He demanded.

“You were rude, so I changed my mind,” Flora said simply. “Make it yourself.”

Regulus’ jaw clenched. A month ago, he would’ve argued to hell and back with her, but this now didn’t seem the best plan of action.

“Fine,” he snapped back. “I will then.”

“Go on then.”

Regulus skulked back into the kitchen, his mind firmly set on this mission. He knew where the mugs were, so he took down the same one Flora had set down for him earlier. When he returned with his cup of tea a few minutes later, looking rather pleased with himself, Flora got up to inspect his work.

She snorted. “What’s that? Fish water?”

It was the palest, milkiest tea Flora had ever set eyes on. Regulus scowled and took a sip of the awful, lukewarm concoction, fighting hard not to look dismayed.

“It’s fine,” he said stiffly.

“It astounds me, you know, that you can make potions and god-knows-what, but you can’t make a cup of tea.”

“I said it’s fine,” he repeated firmly.

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll make you one when I’ve finished mine.”

Privately grateful for this, Regulus sat down at his end of the sofa and put the awful cup of tea aside. He preoccupied himself with staring out the window again, shivering a little as the wind picked up and blew a cold draught down the chimney.

“It’s cold in here,” he complained.

“Anything else?” Flora replied.

“What?” He frowned.

“Anything else you’d like to complain about?”

“At least a hundred.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, at least a hundred and one now, if I add you to the list,” he retorted sharply.

“You mean I wasn’t on it before?” Flora replied, slightly amused. She was at the other end of the sofa and she stretched her legs out, her slippered feet just touching his leg. Somewhat instinctively, he stiffened and moved his leg, but then relaxed a beat later and simply allowed it.

He locked his gaze on the window again as the draught fluttered the white curtains, ignoring her, but still intensely aware of her. He could see from the corner of his eye that she was alternately drinking tea and water. She then sighed, rubbing her face.

“Fancy a bacon sandwich?” She asked.

Regulus nodded. “And don’t forget about my cup of tea.”

“Of course not, your great eminence,” Flora replied as she got up.

They ate breakfast together in relative peace, and Flora lit the fire in the living room. There were radiators in the cottage, but they never seemed to do much good. The warmest place in the house was the front room when the fire was going; so they both sat together in front of it, still a few feet apart, but as close enough as a friend might sit.

“I might go for a walk,” Regulus said when Flora had cleared all the breakfast plates and cups away. The sun had started to come out and was shining through the window, enhancing the auburn tones in Flora’s long hair. An involuntary thought briefly raced across Regulus’ mind, one which acknowledged in that moment just how beautiful she really was. He firmly turned the thought out of his head at once, but he still lingered, waiting for her response.

“Alright,” Flora said. She was covering up some of the food that had been left out last night and wiping down the kitchen table.

“Do you…” he cleared his throat softly, the thought of walking with her suddenly appealing, “do you want to join?”

Flora’s eyes flickered up to meet his, her surprise readable. “Join you?”

“Yes,” he shrugged, feigning a look of nonchalance. “You suggested it once before.”

“You nearly ripped my hand off when I did.”

“I’m aware of that. You remind me at every opportunity,” he answered curtly, his usual scowl returning to darken his expression. He didn’t like being reminded of how harshly he’d treated her. He regretted it, but he’d apologised and that was surely enough.

“Fine then,” Flora replied after a moment, throwing the tea towel aside. “The fresh air will do me good. But give me twenty minutes to get ready.”

“I’ll wait here.”

❦

The walk started off in tense, thick silence. At the same time, there was a sense of electricity between them. Flora felt it; Regulus felt it. There was a small thrill in the fact that they were actually doing something together. Regulus kept his arms at his sides, hands buried deep in his coat pockets; his expression was stony but his eyes darted around as he walked, looking up at the sky or watching a squirrel run through the crisp leaves and up trees. He looked anywhere but at Flora, trying to act unaffected by her presence. Flora likewise avoided his eye, her hands also tucked into her pockets as she walked alongside him. They were walking in the woods near the cottage, well-within their confines.

After a few agonising minutes of silence, Regulus finally spoke. His tone was soft, cautious:

“It’s a nice day,” he said.

“Mhm,” Flora agreed, kicking up leaves under her feet.

Regulus kicked a few leaves as well. He’d always loved doing that as a child, liking the sound they made. The autumn sky above was bright blue; the greyness from earlier gone like it’d never been there.

“You must have a headache from all that wine you drank last night,” he said after another minute of silence had passed between them.

“It’s going,” Flora replied with a shrug.

“And the fire whiskey,” he added a little pointlessly.

“Mm..” She hummed. She looked at one of the trees ahead of them. Regulus was just about ready to accept the silence between them until Flora added, “I’ve never had so much fun dancing though.”

The recollection of her dancing with Sirius flashed through Regulus’ mind. He grimaced, turning to look at her. “If you enjoy dancing with my idiot brother, perhaps I should be even more worried about your mental state.”

Flora laughed. “He’s a good dancer.”

“All I saw was a drunken buffoon.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly music for waltzing to, Regulus,” Flora said, inclining her head towards him now and looking at him. “Is that how you dance? Do you waltz?”

“I can waltz,” he sniffed.

“Oh, show me then,” Flora stopped in her tracks.

“What?” He blinked.

“Show me.”

“Certainly not,” he replied snippily.

“Oh, please!” She pouted. “I’ve always wanted to learn.”

“No,” he said firmly. “Don’t be so ridiculous.”

“We’ve got so much time to learn things though,” she urged. “And perhaps if we did more things together… perhaps we could get along better.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“Please.”

Regulus regarded her, his resolve weakening. She stood close to his arm, gazing up at him with imploring, wide eyes.

“There’s no room to dance here,” he said finally, glancing around them at the narrow path they currently stood upon.

“We’ll go back to the garden.”

“And there’s no music.”

“We can imagine it.”

She had a solution for everything and the fight in Regulus was weakening. Her being a muggle seemed to matter less and less; like it or not, he was stuck with her, and she made a fair point in saying they should and could try to get along better. It seemed only Regulus was the one constantly in a sour mood; Flora could live with him and his ridiculous airs because she had a sense of humour, otherwise she might’ve been just as unpleasant. Regulus could humour her if for nothing better than to make his time here easier. Before Regulus could fully reason with his sensibilities, he was back in the front garden standing face-to-face with the girl he was supposed to despise, preparing to show her the waltz.

“You take your place slightly to the left, not directly in front of me,” he began, correcting their position. “There’re six basic steps. Keep your upper body straight."

Flora nodded, moving an inch to the left of him and at once straightening up. She smiled at him. Regulus swallowed thickly and took a small step closer, hesitantly taking hold of her hand and placing his other hand on her waist. His stomach flipped uncomfortably; her hand was so soft and small.

“Where do I put my other hand?” Flora asked. She felt suddenly quite nervous by their close proximity; it occurred to her just how clean he smelled. It was a fresh, nondescript scent, mingled with the autumn air around them. Regulus, likewise, could smell her; he noticed her perfume, a light floral scent that matched her namesake.

“On my shoulder.”

Flora placed her hand on his shoulder as instructed and waited for him to continue.

“Erm, so now,” he began, “the idea is something called the box step. The man leads. I’m going to step forward with my left foot, so you step back on your right foot.”

He did exactly as he said, looking down at their feet as they took the first step. “Now step to the side with your left foot,” he instructed, as he did the opposite.

“Oh, I’m not very coordinated,” Flora fretted as they finished and closed the first box step. Regulus was leading her, holding her up firmly and moving so swiftly she grew confused and stumbled.

“Try it again,” Regulus said patiently.

“Go more slowly.”

He showed her and explained it again, repeating the steps over and over until Flora was moving with greater ease. She kept her eyes downwards on the ground, watching both her feet and Regulus’ feet.

“Don’t look at the floor,” Regulus said. “You’ll confuse yourself. Look at me.”

Flora looked at him and Regulus felt his stomach tie up in knots. She smiled brightly at him, pleased with herself now she was getting the hang of the steps.

“Am I doing it right?” She asked.

Regulus broke away, stepping back. “Satisfactory, I’d say.”

“That means very good then, if I’ve reached that standard by you,” Flora smirked. She stretched her arms out to grab his hands again. “I want to keep practising!”

“No,” Regulus said abruptly, frowning. “I’m cold. I want to go inside.”

“Cold? How on earth can you be cold?” Flora replied. “I’m too hot after all that.”

“Isn’t it lunch time?” He said.

Flora looked at her watch briefly, shrugging. “A little past lunch time. Are you hungry?”

“Yes, quite.”

“There’s some quiche and chicken left over from last night. Shall we have that?”

“Fine,” he grumbled, turning away from her to stride back into the cottage. Flora watched him skulk away, a little bewildered.

Much like their walk had started, lunch was also a silent affair. Flora had fully recovered from her small hangover and occasionally tried to engage in conversation with him, but Regulus never really did make a good meal companion. He remained sullen and impassive, as usual. That was until she brought Sirius up, at least.

“Can Sirius dance like that too?” She asked.

Regulus, whose brow had until this moment remained neutral, now darkened somewhat. “Yes. We were both taught how to waltz,” he replied coolly.

“So posh,” she said.

“Sirius always made a mockery of anything we were taught,” Regulus said, stabbing at a piece of pastry on his plate. It was obvious to Flora that he didn’t approve of his brother’s behaviour.

“Well, you have to have a laugh, don’t you?” Flora replied carefully.

“There’s a time and place for everything. Sirius was an embarrassment too often.”

“Oh, don’t be so miserable. He’s too charming to be embarrassing.”

“He is not charming,” Regulus snorted, fixing his gaze on her intensely. “He’s an idiot.”

“If it wasn’t for Sirius, you wouldn’t be here,” Flora said.

“Yes, he’s got me shackled up with a muggle,” Regulus scoffed. “How terribly clever of him.”

“Well what’s the alternative?” Flora felt her irritation rising. “No one else wanted you. It was a good idea, really. I’m sorry I happen to be a horrible muggle, but I’ve let you stay in my home and I’ve cooked your meals and cleaned up after you like I’m a bloody a house elf and—”

Flora stopped. To her surprise, his mouth had curled into an amused smile. Flora’s scowl deepened.

“Why are you smiling like that?” She demanded. “Stop it.”

“I seem to have struck a nerve.”

“Oh, you’ve struck more than just a nerve,” Flora replied smartly.

“You’re very defensive about my brother, aren’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” Her cheeks bloomed softly as she realised what he was implying.

“You always get riled up when I say unkind things about Sirius.”

“That’s not true. I get riled up when you say anything.”

He shrugged, scraping the crumbs on his plate to one side. “So if I praised and agreed with you, you’d still be angry?”

“Probably.”

“Your hair looks nice.”

“You’re so stupid,” Flora rolled her eyes and snatched up the empty plates, but she couldn’t help smiling just a little.

“That’s perhaps the weakest insult you’ve given me since I got here.”

“You want me to insult you?” Flora looked over her shoulder as she deposited the plates into the sink.

“Later maybe,” he said, leaning back in his chair and yawning a little as he stretched. “I’m going to lie down.”

“Not until these dishes are clean, you’re not,” she threw a tea towel at his face. “Come here and dry. You can manage two plates and two cups.”

His usual scowl returned at this abrupt order, but he sidled up to her by the sink and watched as she cleaned and rinsed the plates. He sulkily dried them as she handed them to him one at a time, then wasted no time in rushing off upstairs before she could rope him into any other domestic tasks, leaving Flora glowing with a sense of achievement.

Chapter Text

Ten 

❦

The small achievements soon started to add up and improve over the next few days. For one, and without asking, Regulus would stand at the sink whenever Flora washed the dishes and wait patiently with a tea towel, ready to dry. He put the clean washing to dry by the fire once — granted, it was his washing and his washing alone, but Flora was stunned all the same. She didn’t want him touching her clothes and knickers anyway. She didn’t remark much about this change that had apparently come over him for fear he would get haughty again and stop helping. So she just thanked him instead, which Regulus acknowledged with a stiff, wordless nod.

Nothing much happened during that first week of October; there was still not even an argument between them, barring the small moments they would bicker about something silly. But there had been no nasty, cruel arguments like there had been when he first arrived at the cottage. Flora started to feel more at ease as that week drew to an end, at least around Regulus, but her general unease returned with the full moon. She hadn’t seen Remus or Sirius since her birthday; and she was particularly anxious to see Remus. Seeing him just before full moons made her feel slightly better, as though it were a way to confirm all was well, to ensure he was strong and ready for the upcoming transformation. It was silly, she knew that, but she liked to see him all the same.

It was midnight when Flora woke very suddenly. The full moon was high in the sky, its shimmering white light illuminating the end of her bed. She blinked her heavy eyes, slow, confused. She didn’t know what time it was, but somehow felt certain it was the deepest and darkest part of the night. She didn’t know what had woken her, for she usually slept without interruption, but thought little of it and rolled over to face away from the window. She pulled the covers around herself, warm and sleepy, and was steadily drifting off back to sleep when she heard it — a howl. A wolf howl. Flora’s eyes snapped open, this time without heaviness or confusion; she’d heard it clearly. She laid very still for a moment just listening, wanting to be sure her mind and ears weren’t playing tricks on her. Another minute passed and she heard it again. There were more of them this time and it sounded like barking. What chilled her most was how close these sounds were. She sat up and stared towards the window, listening as hard as she could. They started again, howling no further than perhaps twenty metres away. But then maybe these were just wild dogs, she reasoned, trying to calm her racing mind; however, the other side of her mind told her there were no wild dogs in Wales, and there were certainly no wolves.

Panicked, Flora climbed out of bed and rushed to her door, forgetting her dressing gown and slippers in her rush. Her only thought was to rouse Regulus, feeling glad for once that he was there. She rapped hurriedly on his door.

“Regulus!” She hissed loudly when there was no response. She knocked again, harder, called his name again. Finally she heard him stirring behind the door; the bed creaked, she heard him breathe heavily through his nose, and then the floorboards squeak as he treaded towards the door.

“What?” He demanded the moment he set eyes on Flora. His curls were sticking up in just about every direction. He stood partially behind the door, guarding his modesty, for he was again without a shirt.

“Regulus, I heard something outside,” she replied in a rush. Her voice was weak and small.

“Heard what?” He frowned, still irritated.

“I don’t know… something…” she couldn’t seem to say it with ease. “Wolves.”

“Is that not normal around here?” He said abruptly. His eyes briefly glanced downwards from her face to her chest. It was such a fleeting look, but Flora noticed it. She crossed her arms across her breasts, suddenly highly aware of the fact she was without a dressing gown and he could probably see through her thin nightie.

“There aren’t wolves in Wales, stupid,” Flora snapped back, still speaking in a hushed tone. “And these don’t sound like normal wolves.”

“Maybe it was some other animal.”

“Regulus,” Flora huffed. “Come listen. Come, follow me.”

Regulus stepped out in just his boxer shorts, begrudgingly following Flora as she’d already turned away, expecting him to be behind her. Flora could scarcely believe she was willingly leading Regulus into her bedroom, and with both of them in a mortifying state of undress. For himself, Regulus looked incredulous and highly suspicious of her.

“They don’t sound very far away,” she whispered as they walked into her room. She quickly pulled on her dressing gown, firmly wrapping it around herself. She didn’t turn on a light. She stood very still as they neared the window, standing at the end of her bed. They both fell silent, just listening. They listened for a good three or four minutes without hearing anything. Standing in such tense silence as this felt more like three or four hours, particularly as they were standing so close together. Flora could feel his body heat, hear his soft breath close to her ear.

“I don’t hear anything,” Regulus said finally, still eyeing her distrustfully.

Flora didn’t reply for a long moment. She moved away from him, giving him a disapproving once-over as she acknowledged his partial nudity, and walked a little closer to the window to peer outside.

“I swear I heard it,” she said, twitching at the curtains with her fingers.

“You were probably dreaming,” Regulus said dismissively.

“I was not dreaming,” Flora snapped back, her anger flaring.

“Then maybe it was your brother and my brother,” he drawled.

“Oh, yeah, having a lark and a laugh ten feet away from the cottage?” Flora replied with sarcasm. “This was a whole pack anyway. It sounded like more than one or two.”

“Maybe badgers,” he offered.

Flora turned to look at him, her frown and disbelief deepening. “Badgers? Badgers? Are you actually stupid? Do you even know what animals are?”

“Well, I’ve only heard badgers once in my life and—” he began defensively, very clearly offended she’d dismissed him so abruptly when he was genuinely trying to be helpful.

“Oh, just be quiet,” Flora turned back to the window. She jumped when he suddenly came closer, just inches behind her. There was a glance between them, just a short glance, and it made Flora’s stomach sink pleasantly just to have him look at her. His dark hair, still messy, curled over his eyes in a way that made Flora want to reach out and push it back. She felt suddenly felt embarrassed and looked away.

“Go back to bed…” she said finally when no further noise presented itself.

Regulus didn’t move. He stayed still, listening. He put one finger up to shush Flora when she opened her mouth again to speak. Then the sound returned; it was louder this time, or perhaps just closer. Flora started in alarm and instinctively touched Regulus’ bare arm, her fingers brushing the somewhat small, but well-defined muscle. She stood close to him. Regulus didn’t react to her touching him; he looked about in confusion, listening to the wild howls and wondering from which direction they were coming.

“What the hell…” he murmured under his breath.

“Are they near us?” Flora asked, her face white.

“If they are, they won’t be able to detect us,” Regulus said after a beat. “The wards are still up.”

“Are you sure?”

Regulus again didn’t answer right away and this caused Flora to shake his arm quite roughly. “Regulus!”

“Yes!” He hissed irritably, pulling his arm away. “Yes, I’m sure. We’re perfectly safe.”

“You’re not just saying that make me feel better?”

“As making you feel better is not something I concern myself with, I can assure you I’m not just saying things.”

“Why did they sound so close?”

“Because they probably are,” he admitted, creeping closer to the window to peer out behind the muslin curtain again. “But they can’t find us.”

“But why are they around here?”

“I don’t know!” He snapped, turning to look at her. Flora saw then that he looked as anxious as she felt. His brow was knitted deeply. “I don’t know, alright? But they can’t find us, so just go back to sleep and we’ll tell Sirius and your brother about it tomorrow.”

“I couldn’t possibly sleep now,” Flora fretted. “How can you?”

“I put my head down and shut my eyes,” he replied dryly.

Flora moved away irritably, pulling her dressing gown around herself again. “Well, I’m going to sit downstairs and have a cup of tea.”

Regulus drew away from the window, his gaze shifting to her. “I’ll join then.”

“As you please,” Flora grumbled, feigning indifference when privately she felt relieved he was joining. “But put some clothes on.”

Regulus went back into his room to dress while Flora went downstairs to start the tea. She was troubled, but she found it was not the werewolves being so near her cottage that troubled her. It was that feeling she’d felt when Regulus had looked at her in the dim light of the moon. That delicious sinking feeling in her stomach. As she prepared the cups of tea, she thought how wonderfully self-destructive it would be to fall in love with a boy like him, a boy who she had every reason to despise as he despised her. But she liked his eyes, she thought, feeling a little foolish; she liked the way they lingered on her sometimes, particularly when he was in a playful mood. And she liked how tall he was. She did not think him as masculine as Sirius, but Regulus was uncommonly beautiful for a boy. Kissing him was an almost irresistible thought. However, Flora would not betray these feelings to him; after all, he was still an insufferable bigot. Her feelings were a revelation, certainly, but ones which she pushed to the furtherest corner of her mind as Regulus came downstairs to join her. He was properly dressed, not in pyjamas, but in his day clothes.

“I thought Sirius bought you some pyjamas,” Flora remarked.

“I wanted to make myself decent,” he sniffed. His dark hair was still sticking up untidily in spite of his apparent effort to make himself “decent.”

Flora bit the inside of her cheek and turned away to finish making the tea. They moved into the front room. Flora picked up and wrapped the crochet blanket around herself, frowning a little at the cold fireplace. She got down on her knees to get a small fire going with what firewood was left in the basket.

“I wish you had your wand,” she grumbled offhandedly to Regulus, “We’d have a good fire in seconds.”

Regulus was only half listening and didn’t bother responding. He’d pulled out an old newspaper stuffed down the side of the sofa cushion and was reading a headline about the Yorkshire Ripper’s last victim, back in September. Flora soon had a fire going and sat close to it, shivering. She looked at Regulus.

“Are there any serial killers like that in the wizard world?” She asked after a moment.

Regulus lifted his eyes from the paper. “Probably.”

“Probably?” She replied incredulously.

“Well, there’s known killers like You-Know-Who and Greyback, but I wouldn’t classify them as serial killers,” he replied, being surprisingly forth-coming and conversational. “It’s hard to catch a witch or wizard who commits murder with magic. There’re all sorts of things you can use to avoid detection if you’re clever. There’s been one or two who’ve been caught, like mentally disturbed people.”

“But I mean people like that,” she pointed to the newspaper headline. “All the murders I’ve heard about from your world seem politically motivated. But do witches and wizards kill just because they want to?”

“There was one wizard, Norman Reynards, who went about killing witches with red hair.”

“Just red-haired witches?” Flora blinked.

“Some wizards too, but mostly witches. It was when I was in my first year of Hogwarts. The girls with red hair were frantically dying it to black or brown.”

“How did they catch him?”

“He was crazy. He attacked a woman in the middle of Diagon Alley and got himself captured by the authorities. Swiftly sent off to Azkaban.”

“Was the woman alright?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

Flora rested her chin on her knees, which were pulled up to her chest. The sound of the wolves had ceased, but she still felt uneasy, particularly now they were discussing serial killers. She sipped her tea. Regulus mirrored her, his expression neutral.

“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said, “Shall I put some music on?”

Regulus looked far from enthused by this idea. “The music you played at your birthday party?”

“No, we’ll play my mam’s music,” Flora said, placing her tea aside and crawling across the floor to the boxes she kept her records in.

“Is that supposed to be any better?” He raised an eyebrow.

“What sort of music do you listen to?” She asked while she flipped through the singles. There were a lot of Beatles, The Kinks and 60s Motown in her mother’s collection. Flora chose “Baby love” by The Supremes as Regulus answered her question in one short word.

“Classical.”

“Like Beethoven and Mozart?”

“Classical wizard music,” he clarified cooly.

“Does it sound much different?”

Regulus faltered at this. “Well, no… yes… I suppose. But I wouldn’t really know.”

“Don’t you like anything else?”

“If you mean that rubbish my brother listens to, then no.”

Flora smiled and shook her head. “You should be more open.”

“I prefer to be closed.”

“If you say so.”

They both fell silent. Only the music, which was now at the instrumental part of the song, filled the silence between them.

“My mam loved this group,” Flora said, turning back to the box to choose another song by The Supremes. Regulus said nothing, but his granite expression was again neutral.

Flora let the blanket drop from her shoulders slightly and swayed gently to the music with a small smile on her lips. She sang along under her breath, not looking at Regulus. 

Something shifted in Regulus at that moment. As he watched her, he was struck dumb with the devastating, sudden realisation that he wanted to hold her. Her dressing gown had loosened, which Flora seemed unaware of, and hung partly open to reveal her nightie and the shadow of her nipples against the fabric. She was beautiful and it pained him to acknowledge it, though he knew deep down he'd been fighting the realisation for some time. Regulus shifted his gaze from her and frowned down at his cup of tea, stubbornly resuming his usual sullen mood and indifference. If he looked at her, he wasn’t sure he would be able to ignore her. 

She only moved and swayed for a short time, then stood studying the other vinyl singles for a while, deciding what to play next while the song continued to play. She seemed oblivious to Regulus. 

“I think the wolves have gone,” he said, clearing his throat. Flora was getting ready to put on a single by The Shirelles.

Neither of them wanted nor dared say the word ‘werewolves.’ Flora only nodded in response to his observation. She sat down by the fire, pulling the front of her dressing gown closed, and examined the picture on the vinyl sleeve as the song “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” began to play. Regulus was listening to these songs in spite of himself. The thrill and dread of what he was feeling for Flora had amplified in these last few days. It felt criminal to him, to feel such things for a muggle. Order must be imposed, he thought, must be reestablished before he got too close to the girl. He must distance himself at once and remain dignified, because he was so close to acting undignifed in this moment.

Yet he resisted his resolution; he didn’t want to distance himself or knock her beneath him. He didn't want to be dignified. He had been dignified his whole life and it had made him miserable. Harbouring this secret, budding affection in his heart gave him a warm pleasure, even if it may never come to fruition, and even (or perhaps because) it was forbidden in his mind. 

Flora fell asleep on the sofa that night, her head resting close to Regulus' leg. He didn't sleep. He kept guard, listening until daylight for the sound of howls, until he too finally fell asleep. 

Chapter Text

Eleven 

❦

Clementine arrived the following day. It was early morning and Regulus had just drifted off to sleep when the two of them were awoken by urgent tapping on the front door. Flora had shifted in her sleep and was laying with her head nearly in Regulus’ lap, a cover now wrapped over her and a cushion under her head. She blinked in sleepy confusion as she woke, at first not moving from her position until she realised it was Regulus’ legs her arms were latched around and that Regulus’ hand was resting on her head. She sat up abruptly, fixing her eyes on him with a confounded look. Regulus was barely awake himself; he rubbed at his face, breathed heavily like he was stifling a yawn, and then focused his sleepy, blurred gaze on Flora. The tapping at the door continued with impatience.

“Flora!”

Flora jumped up at once, taking the blanket with her. “It’s Clem,” she muttered under her breath as she hurried out of the room.

Regulus remained on the sofa, gathering his bearings. He found a strand of Flora’s hair on his knee, which he picked up between his slender fingers and held up to the light for a moment, observing how it glimmered in the early morning sun. The birds were singing outside, the sky clear and blue for another uncommonly nice day. He wasn’t listening to the conversation taking place in the other room as Flora let Clementine into the cottage; he was both too sleepy and too bewildered to care what was happening. He was thinking more about what had already happened, missing the warmth of Flora’s body beside his. He was forced out of his reverie, however, when Clementine and Flora came into the front room. He straightened up, fixed his clothes, and looked at the two of them with the expectation of hearing something important.

Clementine gave him an odd look at first, eyeing him with what Regulus recognised as distrust and suspicion.

“Remus and Sirius will be here later,” Clementine said without taking her eyes off Regulus but speaking only to Flora. “I just came to check you were alright.”

“We stayed down here all night,” Flora said. “Regulus said we were safe because of the wards. Is that right?”

Clementine nodded, looking now at Flora instead of Regulus. “The wards are fine. I checked them. The pack was close by but it’s impossible for them to find the house.”

Flora nodded wordlessly, looking slightly comforted now she’d been reassured by somebody other than Regulus. Clementine’s eyes drifted back to Regulus, then to Flora. She seemed to want to say something but didn’t know how or where to begin.

Regulus, irritated with the scrutiny he was under, stood up and skulked out of the room to go upstairs to the bathroom. The moment Regulus was out of earshot, Clementine turned her full attention to Flora and asked pointedly, “You slept down here with him?”

A blush crept across Flora’s cheeks. “Well, um, yeah… we were awake most of the night and just fell asleep.”

“How’s he been lately?”

Flora shrugged. “He’s been better actually. He helps sometimes, dries the dishes, hangs his washing up to dry…”

A genuine look of surprise crossed Clementines’s face. “Has he?”

“He’s not as rude as he used to be too.”

“He’s never… never tried to get… familiar with you, has he?” Clementine asked in a lower voice.

Flora’s colour deepened. “Clem! No! No, of course not. He keeps a distance most of the time.”

Clementine relaxed slightly, nodding. “Because you know, that was my main concern when Sirius told me he was bringing Reg here. I was worried he might… you know, try to take advantage.”

Flora vehemently shook her head. “Of me? I’m a muggle. He despises me.”

“He can’t hate you that much if he slept on the sofa with you.”

That wonderful feeling in her stomach resurfaced and sunk again. She had slept next to him all night. Flora looked away, hoping her face did not betray her true feelings.

“Are you telling me I should be wary?” She demanded.

“Well, no,” Clementine reconsidered. “But you get why I’m concerned, don’t you? A young man locked in a house with a pretty girl…”

“Oh, Clem, stop it,” Flora huffed.

“Don’t be naïve, Flora.”

“I’m not being naïve. He has no interest in me that way.”

“Personal interest doesn’t always matter for a man,” Clementine replied.

“Honestly, Clem. He hasn’t done anything but annoy me. He has not, nor will he ever, try anything like that.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable, for your sake, with him prowling around the house,” Clementine reiterated, pushing her long red hair back over one shoulder. The action exposed the creamy cushion of her chest, and Flora suddenly felt quite plain and insignificant beside her, which truly drove home the idea that Regulus could not possibly cultivate any romantic or sexual interest in her. She felt like a little girl next to Clementine.

“He’s not prowling around,” Flora said, folding her arms. “He’s just a guest and he keeps to himself most of the time. And anyway, he was warned from the start that if he tried to harm me in any way, shape or form, he’d have Sirius and Remus to answer to.”

“Yeah, well, not just them,” Clementine grumbled, now mirroring Flora and also folding her arms. “I could do far worse.”

They heard Regulus’ steps creaking back down the stairs and swiftly abandoned the conversation, though Clementine still looked unhappy. Flora offered tea and so they moved into the kitchen where Regulus was helping himself to a bowl of cornflakes — possibly the closest thing to a meal he could prepare himself.

“Tea, Regulus?” Flora asked, a little stiffly as she filled the kettle with water at the sink.

“Mm,” he grunted in response with a short nod.

Flora glanced at him from the corner of her eye, whereas Clementine was practically staring the boy down with her disapproving gaze.

“I’ve heard you speak more politely to house elves, Regulus,” Clementine said sharply. “Say yes, please.”

Flora shut her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply, knowing this would set him off at once. And indeed, Regulus’ whole expression morphed from something that was once neutral, if not still half-asleep, to a contemptuous look that caused his brow to darken significantly.

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” he spat back.

“It’s not the way to speak to anyone,” Clementine retorted.

“Don’t tell me how to speak. You’re not my mother,” Regulus said petulantly.

“Right, stop it,” Flora interjected, spinning around. She was holding a tea spoon and pointed it threateningly at Regulus. “We’ve gone all week without an argument and—”

“I’m not even arguing with you!” Regulus interrupted, scowling.

“I don’t want arguments with anyone,” Flora clarified. “Not me, not Clem, nobody.”

“I’ll have some tea, and thank you for asking,” Regulus said, his tone dripping with sarcastic politeness. He shot a nasty look at Clementine.

Clementine rolled her eyes back at him, returning the dark look. Flora made the tea as fast as possible and set it down on the kitchen table. She had just sat down when looked up at the window to sees Remus and Sirius coming up the path; she sighed heavily and pushed her chair out to put the kettle on again.

“Let me,” Clementine said quickly, flicking her wand at the kettle. The cupboard also opened by itself and two mugs floated down to the counter, along with two tea bags and two teaspoons.

Flora watched it for a moment, but turned away when Remus tapped on the door and let himself in, flanked by Sirius. Remus looked pale, tired; Flora noticed his shirt was on inside-out when he took his coat off. She got up again and hurried to his side, throwing her arms around his neck loosely.

“Are you alright?” She asked hurriedly.

“Fine,” Remus smiled weakly, regarding his little sister with sad fondness. “Are you?”

Flora nodded. There was a lot she wanted to say, and she’d certainly had a lot to say last night. But the fear she felt last night had dissipated in the daytime. She simply answered, “Fine.”

Regulus watched Remus and his brother with barely restrained anger on his face. His eyes lingered on the scars across Remus’ face before he spoke sharply, addressing the two of them with no preliminaries, “Why was there a pack of werewolves outside the cottage last night?”

“Remus, come sit here,” Flora said before any answer could be given. She guided Remus to the chair she had been sitting in before and then sat down in the chair next to Regulus.

Remus pushed his hands through his thick sandy hair and looked at Regulus, whose demanding eyes hadn’t moved as he waited for an answer. But Remus didn’t have an answer, and nor did Sirius, who leaned against the kitchen counter looking as tired and worried as everyone else.

“I don’t know,” Remus said.

“You don’t know?” Regulus’ frown deepened. “Were you not with them?”

“No,” Remus fixed his eyes on Regulus more directly, his gaze never wavering. He paused for a long moment, then added, “Not with that particular group. They split off, you see. The pack is large. I didn’t know they were there.”

There was another long silence. Regulus pressed on though.

“Are they looking for her?” He asked, nodding to Flora.

Flora looked down uncomfortably at the table. Remus opened his mouth to reply quickly, like he was about to deny and put his sister’s mind at ease, but then he thought better of it and closed his mouth. He took a long breath, procured a cigarette from his shirt pocket and tapped it on the table. He didn’t normally smoke around Flora, and he never smoked in the house as a rule. But he was visibly stressed. Flora lifted her eyes and gave him a short nod, a silent okay. He lit it with a regular lighter, inhaled, sat back in the creaky wooden chair, exhaled. Flora pushed a tea saucer towards him to use as an ash tray.

“I think yes, they are,” Remus finally answered after considering his words. There was no gentle way to put it, no way to make it less disturbing. “To tell you the truth, they don’t trust me. You’re a bargaining chip.”

“Oh, thanks very much,” Flora muttered dryly.

Remus took another deep breath, flicking the ash off his cigarette onto the floral saucer. “Listen, Flora… I wish I didn’t have to drag you into this, but the pack is dangerous. They want leverage against me, to use against the Order. I never wanted to put you in harm’s way, but they see you as a way to control me. They think they can use you to manipulate me,” he paused a moment, looking at her with a mix of guilt and sympathy. “You have to understand, they’re vicious and unpredictable, and they won’t hesitate to hurt you if it serves their purpose.”

“But how did they know to look over here?” Flora asked with a little more urgency in her voice. “You must have some idea.”

Remus gave her a measured, deliberate look as he considered his next words, words he knew that would alarm her.

“Flora, here’s the thing,” he said, “As a werewolf, despite the magical wards protecting this area, I think I may have unintentionally left a subtle, werewolf-specific scent trail that only another werewolf can pick up on.”

Flora stared at him. Clementine looked down at her tea and Sirius watched on wordlessly. Regulus, however, suddenly pushed his chair back with a loud scrape against the floor tiles and fixed his attention on Remus angrily. Sirius seemed to come back to life at this moment, straightening up and taking a small step towards his brother.

“So why the hell are you here? You’re just putting her in more danger. And if they find her, they’ll find me.”

“Regulus—” Sirius started with an undertone of warning to his voice.

“No,” Regulus shot a dangerous look at him. “He’s putting us in more danger the longer he’s here!”

Remus looked at Regulus, his eyes meeting the younger wizard’s with a cold glare. He placed his cigarette down in the ashtray, his expression serious.

“I didn’t come here to put you and Flora in danger, Regulus,” Remus snapped back, his tone laced with frustration. “I came to warn you both, to tell you both the truth. But the wards are powerful. The scent drops if they come near the boundaries.”

“They shouldn’t even be anywhere near the boundaries!”

“Well, Regulus,” Remus shot back, “In case you’ve forgotten, werewolves do possess an acute sense of smell. They have a natural ability to track scents, and sometimes, even the most well-placed wards can’t prevent them from picking up on something as potent as a werewolf’s scent.”

“I want my wand back,” he suddenly demanded. “If those werewolves had found and attacked us last night, there’s nothing I could’ve done.”

A collective silence fell over the room again. Clementine looked like she wanted to speak, but she said nothing; Flora simply stared at the table. Sirius looked between Remus and his brother, then moved towards him, close at his side.

“He’s right,” Sirius said in a calm voice. “If the worst happened… he has nothing to defend himself or Flora with.”

“What’s to say he won’t turn it on Flora?” Remus objected. 

“I would never harm her,” Regulus said firmly, his voice low and sincere. But Remus was unconvinced. His trust in Regulus was fragile.

“How can I trust that, Regulus? You were a Death Eater once. That mark on your arm says enough."

Regulus’ anger flared at this, his voice raising suddenly. “And what of the marks on my back? I defied the Dark Lord and nearly died for it. Is that not enough?”

“Reg…” Sirius touched his younger brother’s elbow, but Regulus drew away sharply. He looked at Flora now as he spoke. Her eyes met his. 

“I swear on my life, I wouldn’t ever hurt her.”

He meant it. In truth, Regulus had been more concerned for Flora’s safety than his own when Remus revealed the danger they were in.

“I think he should have his wand too,” Flora said after a moment, turning to look at Remus. “I trust him.”

Remus’ gaze switched to Flora, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face. Clementine, sitting opposite, took a breath. “I’m with you, Remus. I’m sorry, but I don’t trust him.”

Regulus was about to argue, but Flora spoke first. And she spoke heatedly. “What difference does it make? If Regulus was dangerous, he wouldn’t need magic to harm me. Any man could harm me, magic or not. Yes, he’s a bit of a dick and unpleasant to be around most of the time, but he’s never deliberately hurt me.”

Remus looked from Flora to Regulus, then briefly at Clementine who looked conflicted. They all knew Flora was right and there was no refuting it. To really drive her point home, Flora rose from the table and went into the living room to retrieve the newspaper. She threw it down under Remus’ nose.

“The Yorkshire Ripper. He’s not a wizard, is he? All he does is hit women on the back of the head with a hammer. A magic wand is not a prerequisite for physical harm. If Regulus wanted to hurt me, even with your vague threats, he would’ve certainly found a way to do it already.”

Remus glanced at the newspaper with discomfort. The muggle serial killer was a major topic of conversation even among parts of the wizarding world. He knew Flora had a valid point and his resolve was weakening as her logic unwound it. He looked at Regulus and was struck by the vulnerability and gratitude in his face, gratitude that was clearly directed at Flora.

Remus sat back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. “Fine,” he conceded in a low voice. “But we have to go through the Order to get it back. It could take a while.”

“How long?” Regulus asked.

“Weeks,” Clementine answered icily.

“I’ll see to it,” Sirius put in quickly.

❦

When everyone left later that afternoon, Flora went outside to tend to the garden. It was chilly but still bright and sunny. She set to work cutting back an overgrown shrub in her herb patch, which was now mostly dead, while also planning to later rake up the leaves that had fallen. She became absorbed in her work, listening to the birds in the trees above, when she became aware of Regulus standing behind her. She blinked, wondering whether she was imagining things or if he really was holding two cups of tea in his hands.

“What are you…” she trailed off as he came closer and offered the steaming mug to her.

“I made tea,” he said, looking rather pleased with himself.

Flora took the mug and looked down in surprise at a rather perfect-looking cup of tea. She lifted her gaze back to Regulus, unable to hide the confusion on her face.

“I, uh, I asked Sirius how to make tea before he left,” Regulus admitted rather sheepishly.

“Thank you,” she said finally, bringing it to her lips. She blew off the steam and took a small sip. It was sweeter than she liked, but it was good enough compared to his first try at making tea.

Regulus watched her closely. “Is it okay?” He asked with unveiled hope in his voice.

Flora nodded. She smiled a little. “Yes, thank you… but why—”

“I,” he began, cutting her off in his anticipation of her question, “I just… wanted to do something nice for you, for once…”

Flora stared at him. “Have you poisoned this? Did I speak too soon?”

Regulus smiled a rare smile that showed his dimples, and looked down at the leaves. “There is no poison, I can assure you.”

Flora lifted the cup to her lips and took another sip, holding back any response. The corners of her mouth twitched as if resisting a smile. There was a playful air about him presently, something which dissipated the previous tension that underpinned most of their interactions. He seemed relaxed. His eyes flickered up and down her briefly.

Flora met his gaze, lowering her mug. A strange sense of warmth filled her chest, an unexpected feeling of comfort and affection. She hadn’t expected this side of Regulus, his vulnerability and thoughtfulness.

“Well,” she said finally, her voice tender, “I must say, I’m quite impressed. It’s much better than that fish water you made last time.”

A mix of embarrassed pleasure and surprise flitted across his face at her praise. “It’s the least I could do…” he murmured.

A small laugh escaped Flora’s lips, her smile widening. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet,” she teased. “And… thank you for staying with me last night. I know we were safe but… and I can’t believe I’m saying this, it was a comfort to sit with you.”

“I’d stay up with you any night,” he said without thinking. His cheeks went pink and he quickly looked away, a feeling of mortification creeping up his neck.

Flora’s eyes widened at Regulus’ unexpected response. Her heartbeat quickened, her face flushing with warmth. The sincerity in his voice coupled with the vulnerability in his eyes stirred those butterflies in her stomach again. She hesitated a moment, unsure of how to respond.

"Oh... well, I appreciate that, Regulus,” she managed to find her voice to speak, her voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. “But I…I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

Regulus met her gaze again, his expression suddenly guarded. “Of course,” he said quickly, trying to hide the disappointment that flashed across his face. “It won’t.”

He fidgeted awkwardly, feeling somewhat foolish for his impulsive confession, rubbing his thumb along the curve of the cup’s handle. Flora watched his thumb for a moment before forcing her eyes away, looking at the tree shrub blankly. The silence between them was heavy, both painfully aware of the unspoken words floating between them, the unspoken feelings that had been ignited. Flora took another sip of her sweet tea, hoping it would somehow soothe her racing heart.

“I… I think I’ll, um, go back inside,” Regulus said finally. “It’s cold.”

“Yes.”

“Are you… staying out here?”

“For a little while, yes,” Flora replied. “I want to cut this tree back and tidy up the leaves.”

Regulus nodded, looking at the small tree in question and all the wet leaves scattered across the grass. “When I have my wand back, I can help you with that sort of thing,” he offered.

Flora smiled and looked at him again, nodding. “Thank you, Regulus.”

He nodded back. He lingered a moment longer, then remembered he had said he was going back inside. “Okay, well… okay…” he shuffled off back to the cottage, leaving Flora bemused and mystified.

As Regulus disappeared through the front door, shutting it behind him, Flora turned her attention back to the tree in front of her. She released a long breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding, the weight of their unspoken words still lingering in the air. She shook her head slightly, pushing the thoughts aside to instead focus on her task at hand.

Regulus retreated to the sanctuary of his bedroom, put his tea aside, and flopped down on his bed, frustration and confusion coursing through him. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his mind replaying the strange yet oddly significant moment between them. He shut his eyes and his thoughts wandered back to last night, to the memory of her swaying in the firelight to the music, her warmth next to him on the sofa, the sensuality of it all. Desire coiled in his stomach. His breath hitched. He exhaled, watching as a vision of her danced across his eyelids, inviting him closer with parted lips. His body responded as his desire heightened, and his imagination took over completely.

Chapter Text

Twelve

❦

He thought he would feel ashamed, disgusted even, lusting after a muggle girl, but he wasn’t. He’d laid there on his back in the throes of pleasure, and when he began to think logically again, he simply reasoned it away and told himself it didn’t mean anything, that it was just physical, he just needed a release. He wouldn’t do it again, he told himself.

He did it several times over the week. Whenever he couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning restlessly, his thoughts returned to the desire he was fighting. There was no denying the way she made him feel, the things she made him think about. Each time he did it, in spite of his resolution to not do it again, he would tell himself it was just a lapse in judgement, a moment of weakness. He was young man, after all. He had needs.

In the mornings, he would try to rein himself in, forget about his growing attraction to her and stop himself from indulging in these fantasises. But it seemed that every time he began to get a handle on his desires, she did something to drive him mad once more — a coy look in his direction, a soft touch, a glimpse of her skin as she moved around their shared home — and suddenly he was lost again. He’d once walked into the kitchen to see her down on her hands and knees, sweeping the grate out; Regulus had been momentarily fixated on the rounded shape of her backside, his body’s reaction immediate.

Presently, Regulus sat quietly at the table as Flora finished preparing their meal that evening, his gaze following her every move. But she seemed faraway in this moment, focused wholly on her task and unconcerned with him while she took out a tray of roast chicken from the oven, trying not to burn herself in the process.

“Ow, ow, ow…” she muttered, hurriedly placing the hot tray down on the kitchen counter. Her hands were only protected by a thin tea towel.

“How did you learn how to cook?” Regulus asked as the thought suddenly occurred to him.

Flora glanced at him with mild surprise, surprise that he wanted to know something about her. “My mum taught me, and I learned at school too.”

“You learned how to cook at school?” He frowned.

“Yeah, home economics,” she replied. “Doesn’t Hogwarts do any practical lessons in homemaking and cooking? Remus didn’t know how to do any spells for cleaning when he left. He had to look them up.”

“Well, yes,” Regulus scoffed as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Those are girl subjects. Hogwarts taught them as extra-curricular lessons. Only girls took those courses.”

“Oi, they are not just girl subjects,” Flora quipped back, now dishing the food out between their plates. “If men learned how to cook and clean and take care of children, maybe they wouldn’t be so useless.”

“I’m not useless,” he said indignantly, though his lips were pulling into a smirk.

“You’re about as useful as a chocolate teapot.”

Flora set the plates down, her arm brushing his wrist lightly, and then she sat down in her usual place opposite. Regulus was fully smirking now.

“So, at muggle school, you take classes on how to cook?” He reiterated.

Flora nodded. “Well, maths and English too. All the other essentials. My mum suggested I do lessons in childcare and household management.”

“Do you want children?”

“Well, I’d need a husband first,” Flora said with a laugh, briefly meeting his eyes as she picked up her knife and fork, “But there’s no chance of that if Remus won’t let me leave the house. I may as well become a nun.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, his eyes dancing playfully. “That would be a waste,” he said a little too quickly, realising at once that he may have said something revealing. He looked down at his food, trying to compose himself.

Flora paused a moment as she cut her food up, wondering whether she’d heard him correctly or misunderstood something. She could’ve let it go, could have changed the subject, but she was simply too curious.  After a beat she replied, “Would it?”

Regulus took in a quiet, but deep breath. “Yes, I suppose it would,” he said in a very matter-of-fact-tone, trying to cover up his slip. “I mean, I’m sure someone would want to marry you..” He tried to maintain his composure, but he found he just kept talking, “You’re not, uh, I mean… just objectively speaking, you’re not bad looking.”

He cringed inwardly as the words left his mouth, knowing he had just dug himself into a deeper hole he wouldn’t be able to climb out of.

Flora smiled widely, relishing in how flustered he was getting. It was rather endearing. She tilted her head to one side, regarding Regulus with a playful smirk. “Are you complimenting me, Regulus?”

“No,” he quickly reset to his default scowl. “No, I am not.”

“Oh, really, Regulus. You can’t backpedal now,” Flora shook her head. “You already said it.”

“I’m simply saying that some people might find you attractive. I’m not saying I do,” he sniffed.

“The only people I see are you, Sirius and Remus. So exactly which other people are we talking about?”

“Hypothetical people,” he frowned.

“But not you?”

“Definitely not me.”

“Hmm…” Flora looked aside for a moment, still smiling. “Sirius then?”

“No!” A flicker of irritation crossed his brow.

Flora felt a little offended by his abrupt answer. “Why do you say it like that?” She asked with a begrudging air.

Regulus felt backed into a corner. His reaction had been out of jealousy, embittered by the fact he knew Flora preferred Sirius to him. He took a sip of water and looked at Flora directly. He wouldn’t have said anything, but she looked so disgruntled by the way he’d rejected the idea of Sirius ever finding her attractive. She looked hurt. The words fell out of his mouth before he could consider their weight and the consequences this would have on their relationship.

“Sirius has different… preferences,” Regulus said.

The words hung in the air for a terrible, long moment. Flora stopped eating, staring at Regulus. She narrowed her eyes on him. “Different preferences?” She repeated finally. “What do you mean?”

Regulus paused, feeling a sliver of guilt for what he was about to do, but he couldn’t bear the thought of her fantasising about Sirius any longer.

“I mean,” he said slowly, considering his next words, “he’s not interested in women. I didn’t mean that he doesn’t think you’re pretty. I’m sure he does think you’re pretty… but he doesn’t fancy you. He likes men.”

“Stop it,” Flora glared, her eyes flashing with a dark warning. The fun that had infused their conversation just minutes ago had ceased completely, replaced now with palpable, thick tension.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he continued gently, keeping his gaze on her steadily. “In fact, I’m trying to spare you from disappointment.”

“Disappointment from what, exactly?” Flora said, bristling.

“That the man you’ve been pining after for Merlin-knows-how-long has no interest in you like that.”

“Who said I liked Sirius?” She retorted defensively.

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Don’t play dumb. It’s painfully obvious how you feel about him.”

Flora felt her cheeks burning though she tried to school her expression to appear as nonchalant as possible. She spoke in a cool, steady tone, even as her heart hammered in her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes. “But that doesn’t change what I just told you. He’s queer. He likes men.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?”

“Because you’re trying to upset me, that’s why!” She snapped back.

“You think I’ve invented this whole thing up just to upset you?” He retorted, incredulous. “Why would I do that?”

“How should I know? You’ve made it no secret that you think I’m beneath you. Why wouldn’t you invent something like this just to mess with me?”

Regulus’ face darkened, stung by her accusation. He hated that she saw him that way, like a monster. The thought that she could think he was capable of toying with her emotions for his own amusement stung more than he expected it to.

“You really think so little of me? That I’d relish in upsetting you? I’m telling you the truth, Flora. You pining after him is futile.”

“Why do you care anyway?”

Regulus faltered at her question, thrown off by her directness. He hadn’t expected her to cut straight to the heart of the matter like that. He rubbed his face, ran his hands through his curls as he tried to find the right words to explain his uncertain feelings without revealing too much.

“Because…” he trailed off, holding up his hands. He spread his long fingers for a moment and then buried them back in his hair. His mind was racing, wondering how he could possibly explain to her the complicated tangle of emotions that he felt for her. “Because it pains me to see you waste your affections on someone who will never reciprocate them.”

“Since when have you ever cared about my feelings?” She shot back, not missing a beat.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he huffed in frustration. “Fine. Don’t believe me. I don’t care. Just don’t come crying to me about it later.”

Regulus could see the wheels turning in Flora’s head. Her eyes widened as the penny dropped and she looked directly at Regulus. “Wait, but…” she began, then stopped, a look of contemplation crossing her brow. Her voice trailed off as she grappled with this new information. He could practically see the questions forming in her mind, see her trying to piece together how this knowledge changed everything she had thought she knew about Sirius. And Remus. The penny dropped further. She paled.

“Remus?”

Regulus nodded, his expression solemn. They had both stopped eating a while ago, leaving their food to go cold on their plates.

“Yes, and Remus. They’re together,” Regulus said quietly.

Flora sat silent for a long moment, her mind reeling with this new information. She was grappling with a range of emotions — shock, disappointment, confusion, denial. The realisation that her brother, her own blood, had been hiding such a significant part of himself felt like a betrayal. It was worse than realising the man she was in love with would never love her back.

“How long have you known?” She finally asked, looking at Regulus with a mixture of hurt and anger.

“Since Sirius took me in. You know they live together.”

“Yes, but…” she started, her voice rising slightly and then trailing off. She spoke in a lower voice again. “So, all those nasty remarks you made… about them being queer…”

Regulus’ eyes flickered down guiltily. “I…yeah…”

Flora’s expression was guarded. Regulus sat up straighter when he saw Flora’s eyes glistening, threatening to spill over with tears.

“Why would he hide something like that from me?” Flora said in a small voice, struggling to compose herself. “I’m his sister.”

“Maybe he thought you’d be upset…” Regulus suggested, trying to manoeuvre the situation carefully.

“I’m more upset he didn’t tell me!” Flora snapped back, narrowing her eyes on him. She blinked fast to stem the tears that were coming. “And that I had to hear you making derogatory remarks about them when I didn’t even know.”

“Flora…” Regulus reached across the table to touch her arm or her hand, but Flora drew back. He had never said her name before. Not until now. Regulus felt his own surprise acutely, surprise at how pleasant it felt to say her name. If she had noticed, Regulus couldn’t tell. 

“You just think I’m stupid, don’t you? You all do,” Flora continued, standing up and picking up her half-finished meal. She dumped it on the kitchen counter with a clatter. The tears were falling now and she wiped her cheek with her hand. “Remus never tells me anything because he thinks I can’t understand your silly wizard world. And now I’m hearing this.”

Regulus stood up as well, frustrated at how badly this conversation was going. He moved around the table to stand in front of her, wanting to calm her down, to make her understand, but his words kept getting tangled in his throat.

“That’s not—” he began, then stopped. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re not stupid, Flora. Nobody thinks that.”

“You do,” she said, looking at him. Her face was streaming with tears now. “You think I’m inferior and stupid.”

“No, I don’t!”

Flora scoffed. “Don't you remember when we first met? You were surprised I could even read.”

Regulus opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. He couldn’t deny it. He took a step closer to her, approaching her slowly, hesitantly. She didn’t move back, putting only a few feet between them. She was hiccuping from her tears now and her nose was red, a sight which should have repulsed him, but instead only endeared him to her more. He felt an urge to hold her, to pull her to his chest and cradle her against him until her tears stopped. But he knew he had no right to touch her, especially not so tenderly. They were barely even friends, if such an idea could be considered. They were just two people stuck together in hiding, thrust into each other’s company by circumstance. He shouldn’t care for her. He shouldn’t.

Flora was acutely aware of how close he was to her. She rubbed at her eyes and cheeks with her sleeve and looked at him. “It’s stupid…” Flora went on in a lower voice, laughing shortly, a little bitterly. “I was…I was starting to actually like having you around.”

“I didn’t tell you all this to upset you or cause another argument,” Regulus replied quickly. “And I’m sorry for all the unkind things I said or implied before.”

“About me or about them?”

“Both, but mostly about you. I was wrong. You’re not stupid and I know I should be more grateful for the things you do.”

“This is just because I got you your wand back,” she replied snidely.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s not.”

He stood there awkwardly, wrestling with his conflicting emotions. Part of him wanted to keep his distance, to put up his usual cold façade, while another part of him told him to throw caution to the wind and embrace her. He contemplated these feelings for a few moments before finally speaking, his voice soft and gentle, a stark contrast to his usual biting tones.

“Come here, please…”

Flora, who had been staring resolutely at the floor, glanced up at him in surprise. The softness of his tone was wholly unexpected and for the moment it shook her out of her angry crying. She hesitated for a moment, torn between her hurt and sudden curiosity.

“Why?” She asked, her voice still thick with tears.

Regulus, seeing her hesitation, felt a twinge of uncertainty. “Just come here,” he repeated, his voice a little firmer now. His desire to comfort her outweighed his usual pride and he extended a hand towards her, his palm turned upwards un a silent invitation to take it.

Flora stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, her gaze flickering from his face to his hand and back again, torn between the urge to slap his hand away and the desire to take it. Finally, after what felt like an eternity between them, she tentatively reached out and placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers, warm and firm, and he gently tugged her a step closer to him. This was not the first time their hands had touched; there was always the casual brush of hands or shoulder, and Regulus had never forgotten that afternoon he spent teaching her the waltz in the garden, but in this particular moment the contact felt shockingly intimate, even if their bodies were still several inches apart.

He held her hand gently, his thumb stroking over the smooth skin of her knuckles. He could sense Flora’s stiffness, her wariness, but she didn’t try to pull away. She kept her eyes down, sniffling, too shy to look at him.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Regulus said quietly.

Flora took a shaky breath as she listened to his soft words. The soothing motion of his thumb rubbing against her knuckles made it difficult to stay angry with him. But she wasn’t ready to forgive him yet.

“Well, you did,” she mumbled, her voice quavering slightly. She sniffled and wiped her eyes again on her sleeve. “You always do.”

“I know,” he agreed, knowing full well he had a habit of riling her up. “I’m sorry.”

They were both quiet for a long moment. Only the ticking of the clock broke the silence, until Flora lifted her eyes and met his. “I… I’m sorry too,” she said quietly, almost whispering. “I’m not always very nice to you either.”

A small smile pulled at Regulus’ lips. “No, you’re not,” he agreed.

Flora smiled back, laughing softly under her breath as she averted her eyes again quickly. She sniffled again. Their hands were still clasped together, neither of them wanting to be first to break the contact. Their proximity to one another grew closer as Regulus came to lean against the kitchen counter, so they were now standing side-by-side. They both looked ahead, not speaking, barely daring to breathe too loud.

“Our dinner is going cold…” Flora eventually spoke, not looking at him.

Regulus nodded, swallowing thickly. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Me neither.”

“We could have it later… you can heat it up in that machine, can’t you?” he nodded to the microwave.

Flora nodded. She removed her hand from his and stepped away, mumbling something about covering the food up. Regulus immediately missed the warmth of her hand in his and longed to pull her back to him. But he didn’t, of course. He simply stood there and watched awkwardly as she put away the food. The silence between them was heavier than ever, both embarrassed and confused by what had just occurred between them, because there was no doubt that something significant had happened. As Flora put the last of the food away, she turned towards him again. Their eyes met, and for another long moment they stood there, regarding each other with some uncertainty. Regulus fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

Flora cleared her throat. “Cup of tea?”

“Yes,” he said at once in relief, his voice a little too eager. “Please.”

Chapter Text

Thirteen

❦

Flora hardly spoke to Regulus the day following their unexpected truce. She rose early in the morning, having been unable to sleep for her mind reeling over Remus and Sirius, and began a sporadic itinerary of household chores. She cleaned the oven, scrubbed the kitchen floor, dusted, vacuumed. When Regulus came downstairs later in the morning, she said nothing, brushing past him like he was a stranger on the street. She went back upstairs to strip her bed, still avoiding Regulus’ eye as she carried the bedding back down to put in the washing machine.

“Can I do yours?” She asked, glancing aside at him as she walked back towards the stairs. Though she wished to speak little to him, she also wished to maintain a facade of indifference towards him. She felt disorientated not just by the revelation of her brother and Sirius, but by the weight and closeness of the conversation she’d had with Regulus. She hardly felt sure it had really happened.

Regulus was carefully making himself a cup of tea, his eyes heavy and dark from an equal lack of sleep. He came to attention at her words, his eyes shooting up. “No, don’t go in my room,” he said abruptly, swiftly abandoning his tea.

Flora gave him a funny look, raising an eyebrow. “I won’t look at your wizard porn,” she replied. “I just want to wash the bedding and any clothes you need doing.”

Regulus shot back a dark look, aware of the heat rising in his pale cheeks as he fumbled with his words, struggling to find a snappy retort.

“I don’t have wizard… that’s not the point,” he said curtly, striding across the kitchen to block her path. “I’ll bring it down later.”

Flora changed their bedding every week. Normally, Regulus stripped his own bed and left it in a bundle on the landing for Flora to collect, like a chambermaid. She would leave fresh, folded bedding for him to put on his bed, which Regulus detested but steadfastly refused to let Flora do for him. As of late, he certainly did not want her finding evidence of his embarrassing activities.

Flora sighed and rolled her eyes. “I wanted to put the washing on now,” she grumbled but assented, stepping away from the stairs. Regulus relaxed and went back to making his tea.

“Are you not going to make me one?” Flora asked, eyeing the tea.

Regulus huffed loudly through his nose and opened the cupboard to retrieve another mug. The begrudging manner in which he did this made Flora feel oddly better, as it was a good indication things were back to normal and they could forget what had happened.

Flora went to sit in the living room and turned the television on just to break the silence in the house. She’d never found car adverts so interesting until now, especially as Regulus carried in her tea and stiffly sat down at the far end of the sofa. He too fixed his eyes on the small television screen. They sat in silence, both sullenly sipping their tea and warily stealing glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking.

❦

When Regulus finally brought down his bedding to be washed, Flora was nowhere to be seen. He noticed her shoes, normally at the door, were gone; her coat and red scarf were also missing. His jaw clenched, irritated she’d got up and left without saying a word, and more irritated still he was standing there with his arms full of washing at her special request. He dumped the bundle of sheets by the washing machine and went over the kitchen window to see whether she was in the garden or further beyond. He noticed at once that the garden gate was not latched, indicating she’d likely gone into the woods.

Regulus moved away from the window and treaded back into the living room. He lazily sprawled himself out of the sofa and picked up one of his old Quidditch magazines, idly flipped through it, put it aside again. He was both restless and listless. He wanted to go out and look for her, but also didn’t want her to think he was doing exactly that. He’d said too much already, done too much, and he felt like a fool.  He’d never imagined something like this could happen to him.

❦

When he heard the gate latch some two or three hours later, he expected to see Flora coming up the garden path. But instead he saw Remus, determinedly striding up with his long, gangly legs. Regulus felt with absolute certainty that nothing good was about to happen. He got up from the sofa and went to the front door before Remus got there, opening it, not wanting to let him think he could take him by surprise.

Remus had a grim look in his eyes as he approached, his jaw set. He never bothered to hide his dislike of Regulus when Sirius wasn’t around; when Regulus had been hiding out at their flat, Remus had been cool towards him, avoiding any conversation unless it was absolutely necessary. He could tolerate him at best, but at present, it looked like his tolerance had run out.

“Is Flora with you?” Remus demanded when he was three feet away, forgoing any pleasantries.

“No,” Regulus frowned, folding his arms. “She went out.”

“When?” Remus shoved past him into the house.

“About two hours ago, maybe,” he said with a withering glare, disgruntled at being pushed aside.

“She’s stepped outside of the wards.”

“Oh,” Regulus felt a stirring of unease. Remus kept his eyes on Regulus, studying his stony expression.

“You don’t know where she went?”

“How should I know?” Regulus felt suddenly defensive, like he was being interrogated for a crime to which he’d already been accused and condemned.

Remus gave him a contemptuous look, his sharp gaze unwavering. He could be remarkably intimidating when he wanted to be.

“She didn’t say,” Regulus continued brusquely, feeling the heat of the look. “She left when I went upstairs to bring the washing down.”

To prove his innocence, he pointed at the heap of bedsheets on the floor by the washing machine. Remus’ eyes followed the direction he was pointing, then snapped back to Regulus’ face with displeasure. Regulus knew he was being scrutinised and he didn’t like it.

“And you didn’t think to go look for her?” Remus asked.

Regulus curled his lip, “Why would I do that? It’s been peaceful these last two hours… until you showed up, at least.”

“She could be in trouble!” Remus snapped back. “Sirius is out looking for her. I hoped maybe she’d have come back to the house.”

“She’s only been gone for two hours.”

“There are werewolves all around this area, or had you forgotten?” Remus stepped closer, squaring up to him.

“And you’re leading them straight here with your potent werewolf scent? Very wise. Perhaps next time you pay us a visit, you’ll find bits of us strung up in the trees like Christmas decorations."

“If she’s in those surrounding those woods…”

“Well, there you go. That’s where you’ll find her strung up.”

“Would you shut up?” Remus snapped back.

“You asked. And by the way, I’m not supposed to leave the wards either,” Regulus reminded him coolly.

“Frankly, Regulus, I don’t care whether you leave the wards,” Remus glared. “I’m trying to keep my sister safe, not you.”

Regulus shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect you to care. You’ve made your opinion of me very clear.”

“Good. Because I have no intention of coddling a Death Eater,” Remus retorted. He turned his body slightly towards the door, which was still partway open. He wanted to go search for Flora, but was too provoked by Regulus.

“I’m not a Death Eater.”

“You’re still a slimy little prick I’ve had to burden my sister with. She's been nothing but kind to you and you sh-"

“Burdened?” Regulus cut him off briskly, “Spare me. The only person burdened here is me, having to deal with your idiotic muggle sister. If she wants to go out there and get herself killed by werewolves, let her. It’d be nice to have the house to myself, so long as I have my wand back and a house elf to do the cooking and cleaning.” He suddenly wanted to hurt Remus, to strike where it would really hurt. He knew Flora was that weakness. He wanted a fight.

“Watch it, Black,” Remus warned.

“Though, of course, a house elf isn’t as pleasing on the eye,” he drawled on. “But at least a house elf would know its place, wouldn’t it?”

“I can turn you out of this house any moment I like, Regulus,” Remus warned, his anger mounting.

“Yes, perhaps. But you wouldn’t,” he replied. “Not while my brother bats his eyelashes at you.”

Remus’ eyes flashed with anger. His hand was twitching for his wand, but he kept his hands at his sides. He took a step forward though, glaring at him darkly, “You can say whatever you like about me and Sirius, but I will not tolerate your insults towards Flora.”

“I said she was easy on the eye.”

“You’d better not lay a damn finger on her,” Remus growled, his voice filled with menace. “I swear to Godric, if you even try—”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Regulus sneered, fully enjoying how riled up Remus was getting. “I would never lower myself to that level. It’d be perverse, like mating with a beast."

Remus drew his wand and stepped towards him rapidly. “You insolent little fu—”

“Remus.”

Both of them turned. Flora was standing in the doorway, and behind her was Sirius. Though she had said her brother’s name, her eyes were fixed on Regulus; it was a look that silently told Regulus she had heard a significant portion of his words. She looked away when his eyes met hers, and she came forward to embrace Remus, who held onto her with relief.

Sirius stared at his brother stonily, a terrible look Regulus knew all too well when he had done or said something that went too far.

“Flo, where the hell have you been?” Remus said, exasperated. “I told you. I told you not to leave the boundaries.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice flat. She offered no explanation.

Shame and horror flooded Regulus at once. He stood there helplessly, his mouth agape, wishing he could take back the words that had fallen from it. He barely heard what the two siblings were saying to each other, as if he were suddenly in a vacuum. He didn’t know whether to leave or remain standing there, to wait until Flora, Remus or Sirius spoke to him, but it seemed now like his presence was forgotten or unimportant to them. They ignored him completely, eventually moving into the living room together, which Regulus took as his opportunity to quietly slip away.

He went upstairs to his bedroom, shut himself in, and pressed his knuckles to his eyes and cursed harshly under his breath. There would be no recovering from this. Flora would likely want him gone, sent back to his brother or to a member of the Order, never to see her again. That was what pained him most of all. But he’d said those words, she’d heard him, and there was no way of explaining why he’d said it — only that he’d simply wanted to get a rise out of Remus, but even then he wasn’t sure it had just been a desire to provoke Remus. It was sheer malice, a desire to hurt someone so that they could feel the years of emotional pain he inwardly bore. But he’d hurt two people, and the latter was more important to him than he cared to admit. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, and yet — “you always do.” Her words from last night came back to him suddenly, horribly.

Now in the sanctuary of his bedroom, he found he felt no better. The stillness around him was a torment to his torrent of his emotions, and he simply couldn’t stay still. He turned to grab the door handle, hesitated, let go, then took hold of it again and swiftly pulled the door open. But he couldn’t bring himself to go any further. He could hear the low murmur of their voices below, slightly heated, clearly in the midst of a heavy discussion. He retreated, shutting the door again, and curled up in the middle of his bed.

❦

“He doesn’t deserve to stay here,” Remus said bitterly. “He’s a fucking case. He's not getting his wand back after this, by the way. He can fuck off."

“I know,” Sirius said, his voice heavy, tired. Flora noticed he seemed increasingly tired lately. 

"We should find him somewhere else to hide," Remus went on. 

“But we don’t exactly have a lot of other options," Sirius reasoned, "Nobody wants him.”

"Yeah, wonder why. What a mystery."

“And you think I do?” Flora spoke up, indignant. In truth, as hurt as she was, she didn't want Regulus to leave. 

“Well, no, but… you seemed to be getting on better with him lately.”

Flora frowned. “Clearly not. He just called me a beast.”

“I know…” Sirius paused. His voice was gentle, unsure as he continued. “But he-he didn’t mean it. He’s just- just complicated. He doesn’t mean half the things he says.”

“Complicated?” Remus scoffed, siding with his sister.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably in the armchair he was seated in, looking down at his knees. “Yes, complicated,” he repeated, knowing it was a weak excuse. “He’s-he’s not used to being around muggles. He doesn’t—”

“Don’t try to make excuses for him, Sirius,” Remus interrupted grimly. Though determined and resolute in his opinions regarding Regulus, he'd do anything for this man. He hated how right Regulus had been in that aspect. 

Sirius sighed heavily, burying his hands in his long, tangled hair. Flora watched him, feeling that familiar flutter in her stomach whenever he did things like that with his hands or hair. The butterflies sunk quickly though and she forced herself to look away. 

“I’m not making excuse for him, Moony,” Sirius said firmly, looking at him again and then looking at Flora, holding her gaze. For a moment, Flora wondered whether Regulus had lied about him and Remus. It was a small hope that wormed its way into her heart as he held her gaze, looking at her with such softness. If he was queer, she thought, surely he would not look at her in that way. 

Sirius looked away and lowered his voice further. He knew he was treading dangerous water, asking too much. “I’m trying to make sense of him, alright? I just…I know he didn’t mean it. He’s just—he’s messed up. He’s a mess.”

Flora was not mollified by Sirius’ well-intended words. “A mess? A mess? He’s insufferable.”

Sirius grimaced, knowing he was beaten. “I didn’t expect him to go quite that far,” he admitted. “I knew there’d be some bumps in the road, but I had hoped he would warm to you overtime. And recently, I really thought he was. I didn’t think he’d stoop so low as to call you…”

“Yeah, well what’d you think it’d be like shackling me up with the Third Reich?”

Remus snorted without amusement at the comparison. “Yeah, please remind me again why we’re protecting the likes of him?”

Sirius looked forlorn, his eyes wide and pleading. “He’s my brother.”

Flora caught the look shared between her brother and Sirius in that moment. Remus’ eyes softened and Sirius didn’t break his gaze. It all seemed so obvious to her now and her hope was dashed. She looked down at her lap, fiddling with the hem of her dress, remembering Regulus’ kindness from last night. She wondered how someone could stand there in the kitchen and hold her hand while she cried, and then the next day condemn her as something as lowly as a beast. She felt her eyes prick with tears suddenly. She felt stupid, insignificant. Sirius would never love her and Regulus would never respect her. She stood up, hiding her face, and left the room without being able to speak.

Chapter Text

Fourteen

❦

The silence between Flora and Regulus was unlike any silence before. They’d argued plenty of times in the past and given each other the silent treatment for hours, but never for days on end like this. In this case, the silence was one-sided. Regulus would have talked to Flora if she didn’t so swiftly leave the room when he walked in, shutting him down before he could even open his mouth. The best opportunity was at dinner time — or it would have been, for even here Flora had found a way of avoiding him by cooking earlier than normal, eating her meal first and fast, and then leaving Regulus’ meal on the table for him to find while she went outside to garden. She sometimes left the door open so his meal would go cold faster. When Regulus caught on to this, he started to come down earlier, but Flora would simply go upstairs to her bedroom to eat. She knew it was a little petty, but she was determined to make her point and feelings known.

Of course, it was unavoidable that they would have to see each other sometimes: in the hallway when one of them was coming out or going into the bathroom, making tea or snacks in the kitchen, and so forth. When Regulus did stumble upon a chance to speak to her, such as when she was watching television in the living room (she could never miss her television period drama) her stony face and refusal to look in his direction made him lose courage. She was impassable. But then, he knew, he deserved it. This silent torture was his punishment.

Remus visited his sister nearly every evening, bearing chocolate and small gifts of books and magazines to cheer her up. Flora even once managed to convince him to take her to the cinema one afternoon. Regulus was firmly excluded, sometimes shut out of the room entirely. He would often hear them playing music, laughing together. Sirius didn’t visit at all, showing his disapproval by avoiding his younger brother altogether.

“You can stay with us for a while, if you want to,” Remus said to Flora one evening. They were in the living room listening to David Bowie singles, which had been charmed by Remus to flip over or change when each song ended.

Flora looked at her brother in surprise. “Come to London?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “The flat is protected like the house here is. And I’d be happier having you where I can see you.”

“I’m eighteen, not five, Remus. And your flat is too small anyway. It only has, well, one bedroom… doesn’t it?” she gave him a brief, meaningful look and then glanced downward.

Remus also looked down, staring into a cup of tea he was holding with both hands. He rubbed his thumb along the edge of it. “We’d figure it out,” he eventually mumbled. “I can enlarge the sofa easily.”

They lapsed into silence for a long moment. Flora softly cleared her throat. “Where do you and Sirius sleep?”

“Huh?”

“You and Sirius. Do you share a room?”

Remus wouldn’t look at her as he answered, his face growing slightly red. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

“Just a room?”

“We have separate beds, Flora,” he frowned, reluctantly lifting his eyes to hers. “What’re you trying to ask?”

“Nothing,” Flora felt her courage faltering.

Remus’ attention turned to the coffee table where a purple Cadburys tin was sitting on the edge, just out of reach unless he sat up and reached over. He waved his wand. “Accio biscuit tin.”

“So lazy,” Flora tutted.

Remus gave her a lopsided smile as he shoved a chocolate biscuit into his mouth. “Want one?”

She shook her head, watching him for a moment. “If I come to London, will I be safe?”

“Course you will. It’s protected. The only reason I don’t have you there now is because its too small… but for a short while, to get away from the little fascist upstairs, maybe it will be good for you.”

“Why can’t you do some magic to make it bigger on the inside? Remember like that tent you had when we went camping?”

“It’s not that easy, Flo,” he replied, taking another biscuit, “That’s an advanced spell and it’s strictly controlled by the Ministry.”

“Oh.”

“Sirius said it would be okay if you came to stay for a bit.”

“You mean you’ve already talked about it?”

“Yeah,” he looked at her again, this time with a directness in his eyes. “I was fuming about what Regulus said, you know? And that you heard him. If we move you out of the way for a while, maybe we can find somewhere else for him to hide, and then you can have the house to yourself again.”

Flora’s stomach twisted uncomfortably at this suggestion. “You don’t need to do that, Remus. It’s fine, really.”

“It’s not fine,” he frowned. “He’s a little prick and you’re too kind to him.”

“I am not!” Flora objected indignantly. “I’ve been ignoring him for days.”

“You still cook his dinner. If it were me, I’d let him starve.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Flora rolled her eyes. She reached forward and snatched the biscuit tin from him. “And stop eating all the biscuits.”

“What does he do all day, anyway?”

“Regulus?”

“Who else?”

She shrugged. “God knows. He hides in his room usually.”

“Little creep.”

“You know,” Flora began, fidgeting with the fringe on the sofa cushion, “We were actually starting to get along before all this happened. He taught me how to waltz and he…he tried to comfort me the other day when I was upset.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Did he?”

“Mmm…” she nodded, her eyes cast downwards. “He could be alright sometimes.”

“What were you upset about?”

Flora paused, thinking quickly. “Just something he said, as usual. He felt sorry.”

“Felt sorry?” Remus scoffed. “It didn’t look like he had any remorse when he said what he said to me.”

“He’s weird. He can do and say the worst things and then somehow find a way to redeem himself,” Flora frowned, continuing to pick at the cushion edge.

“Because he’s manipulative. He’s a slippery little creep. Even when I first met him, when he was a first year at Hogwarts, he was as unpleasant as anything. He somehow got in all the teacher’s good books and never got caught for all the nasty tricks he and his friends played.”

“Tricks?”

“Setting Boggarts loose, picking on smaller kids, trying to get Sirius into trouble… which never worked, by the way. I don’t think he was the mastermind behind most of it, but he was still always there.”

Flora considered this piece of information, trying to imagine what kind of a student Regulus was at school. Flora had spent the better half of her school life at home, taught by her mother, so she had very little to compare by. But she knew enough to know he would have been thoroughly unpleasant, possibly even a bully, unless you fit in with his pureblood status and ideas.

“Did he… did he ever have girlfriends?” Flora found herself asking suddenly. She wasn’t quite sure where the question came from and felt a little embarrassed to have asked. Luckily, Remus didn’t appear to think too much into the telling question.

“One or two,” he shrugged. “I expect his mother had some marriage arranged for him, so he never really dated casually.”

“Marriage?” She blinked.

“She would’ve married Sirius off too, but he got out before she could try it.”

“Do their family really arrange marriages for them? Like in novels?”

“It’s common with pureblood families.”

Flora wasn’t sure why this information surprised her, but ultimately it softened her a little to Regulus. It didn’t excuse what he’d said, not by any measure, but she considered for the first time that she was dealing with a boy who had been fed extreme ideologies that were very hard to shake off, a boy who was expected to do certain things, act a certain way, just to make his family happy. She felt a little sorry for him.

❦

Remus’ attention meant a lot to Flora, for she’d seen so little of him since the war started. She so often grew listless in the house, suffocated by the literal restrictions placed around her. Since growing used to Regulus’ company, variable as it so often may be, she had been feeling lonelier than ever. Day after day passed without a word, passing each other by like they were invisible. Even a silly argument was more desirable than the tension that currently lay between them. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction and to that she remained resolved, for he had insulted her so greatly. She could see he was squirming and she was glad of it.

And Regulus really was squirming. Tormented by her scorn, he had to speak to her. He wanted to apologise. Apologising had once been so alien to him, and now it seemed he found himself apologising to Flora all the time. But knowing the gravity of what he had said, he feared words would not suffice. He could not imagine what he could possibly say to her, how he would explain himself, especially as now she wouldn’t even give him the time of day.

On the seventh consecutive day of silence, a whole week, Regulus decided a letter was the best course of action. He couldn’t let this go on any longer. He was an articulate writer, and so, sitting on his bed one evening, he began a mammoth task of crafting this letter. He sat with his long legs tucked up, with an array of parchment scattered around him. He chewed on the end of his quill pen, then plunged straight into a stiff, conventional apology—

‘Dear Flora,

Please allow me to apologise for what I said the other day. I spoke out of anger and didn’t mean it.’

He paused here and reread it. He rubbed his face and sighed heavily, then scratched over the words. Too formal, he thought, and it sounded insincere, like when a child is forced to apologise with their mother looking over their shoulder. He started again—

‘Flora,’ it began without the previous formality, ‘Please forgive me. I’m sorry. The truth is, I felt provoked by your brother and said things I didn’t mean.’  He again paused, reading it back carefully, trying to imagine how it may sound to Flora. Though it had more feeling, it was too self-protective. He again scratched it out and sat back, thinking. His mind drifted. He was thinking of her again, pretending for a moment that all had been forgiven between them and she was wrapped in his arms. He didn’t normally imagine kissing her; usually, his mind cut straight to the essence of the fantasy — his head between her legs, her underneath him, on top of him, in front of him, on her knees. Now suddenly he was gripped with the fantasy of kissing her, touching her gently, slowly. As it happened, he could hear Flora in her room at the end of the hall. She’d moved her record player and all three boxes of vinyl records upstairs and was playing her music loudly; a woman with a quivering, high-pitched voice was singing about Wuthering Heights and Heathcliff, whatever that was. Flora would probably have taken the television upstairs with her too if she could. Regulus looked back the page in front of him, pulled a fresh sheet of parchment out and rapidly began writing—

‘Flora,

please forgive me. I don’t mean to do wrong and regret what I said from the borrow of my heart. every night, I dream of you and that’s the truth. I dream of your hot mouth wrapped around my cock sucking me off and my head between your legs licking your wet cunt ravenously with your hands tangled in my hair and thighs squeezed around my ears. you moaning writhing mewling.

He broke off here, staring at the obscenities he had just written. He half smiled to himself, feeling rather proud of himself, and set the paper aside, folding it. He then took a breath and wrote—

Flora,

Please forgive me. I cannot stand this silence between us. Please rage at me, insult me, call me an ass. Anything. I don’t mean to do wrong and I deeply regret what I said from the bottom of my heart. I never meant it. It was Remus I wanted to hurt, not you. Please can you find it in yourself to forgive me?

Regulus

He read it back to himself, feeling satisfied, then stretched and let out a heavy breath through his nose. He folded the letter and put it aside for the moment, distracted by an urge to urinate. He got up and left the room, crossing the hall to the bathroom. Flora’s music seemed even louder now. He took this time in the bathroom to deliberate on how he would deliver the letter to her. Knock on her door and hand it to her himself? Or push it under the door and retreat? As he finished in the bathroom and walked back to his room, he decided the less confrontational manner was the better option. He would push it under her bedroom door. Perhaps it was a little cowardly, he thought, but he was afraid that if he knocked she would ignore him or refuse to take the letter. He wanted to do this quickly, get it over with. Perhaps by this evening, he hoped, they would at least be talking again.

He snatched up the letter and determinedly walked the few feet to Flora’s bedroom door. He pushed it under the crack of her door, certain he had pushed it with enough force to send it sailing across the floor and get her immediate attention. As he turned to walk away, he heard a slight creak of movement as she (he imagined) turned her body to see what had disturbed her solitude. His heart was thudding, and his mind replayed the words he had written to her— forgive me… I never meant it… deeply regret… hands tangled in my hair…my cock … your cunt…

He froze. In the short seconds it took him to reach his bedroom, horror suddenly gripped his heart as he realised he never checked which letter he’d just pushed under her door. With sickened panic settling in his stomach, he rushed to the scattered papers on his bed, looking around wildly for the one he had folded up neatly. He found it sitting innocuously on his pillow and picked it up with baited breath, just at the same time Flora’s bedroom door flew open. He didn’t need to read the letter in his hand to know. But he read it anyway, his eyes scanning hopelessly for the obscenities he knew were not in this letter, but were in the hands of Flora. He heard her like a thunder storm, arriving suddenly in his doorway with his letter clenched tightly in her fist. She was livid, every bit as furious as he’d dreaded.

“Flora,” he started at once, stepping towards her with her hand outstretched for the letter. “You weren’t meant to read that,” he said in a rush, his eyes wide.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” She replied, her voice half raised.

“No,” he said at once, shaking his head, “No, no. I don’t… you weren’t meant to… I didn’t mean to…” he trailed off in confusion. “Flora, give me the letter.”

Flora took a step back as he came nearer, still gripping the letter tightly, her eyes blazing with anger. “It wasn’t enough for you to insult me? You’re depraved, Regulus.”

Regulus moved in on her swiftly, his hand grabbing for the letter. In an attempt to dodge him, Flora turned around so she was in his bedroom and Regulus in the hallway.

“That wasn’t the letter you were supposed to read!” Regulus tried again, speaking fast. “This… this letter here,” he strode back into his room and snatched up the intended letter, brandishing it in front of her face. “This is the one you were meant to read.”

Flora was standing by his chest of drawers, her arms folded with the incriminating letter tucked away. “Oh, and what’s that one say?” She replied with venomous sarcasm. “‘Sorry I called you a beast. Please do my washing.’”

Regulus felt his face burning with shame. Even though she’d read the letter, he was determined to get it back. In one quick stride, he closed in on her, moving so suddenly that she had no choice but to step backwards against the chest of drawers. It was a great oak piece with metal handles that rattled as Flora bumped into it. She knocked over several bottles of toiletries. They were now standing inches apart, close enough she could see the freckles on his nose and cheeks.

“Give me that letter,” he pleaded.

Flora was caught off guard by his sudden proximity. Her back was pressed against the hard edge of the drawers, her arms now unfolded and hanging at her sides with the letter dangling from her hand, but she refused to yield. Her eyes were locked on his, defiant and fiery. Regulus leaned in closer to her, their bodies almost pressed flush against each other. He could feel the rise and fall of Flora’s chest as she took in quick, deep breaths. His hand twitched for the letter; his fingers brushed the edges, but Flora didn’t draw back this time. His eyes were fixed on hers. He understood suddenly why she wanted to keep the letter. It was her power; she wanted to humiliate him, emasculate him, to drive him to such depths he would grovel and squirm at her feet and beg for her forgiveness. And he knew he would do it. His fingers now gripped the edges of the paper more firmly, to which Flora responded by sharply pulling it away. He instead grabbed her wrist, not hard, not like before, but with a gentle firmness.

His eyes shifted down to her mouth, her small, pretty mouth, which was presently contorted with tight disapproval. He quickly tore his eyes away.

“Flora, it was a mistake,” he said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

“A mistake?”

“What I said… and that letter…” he answered. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You didn’t mean what? What you said in the letter? Or what you called me?”

They stared each other in confusion. Regulus could not admit he meant every word of that letter and so hung his head, lowering his gaze uncertainly for a moment before bringing his eyes back to hers.

“Please, just… read the letter I meant for you to read,” he said.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

Regulus stared at her pleadingly, feeling like a kicked dog. Words clearly weren’t going to change anything. He longed to take her in his arms, to cover her with kisses, hold her, soothe her. These thoughts were dashed to pieces when she spoke again.

“I’m leaving,” she said, turning her head aside. Her tone was very matter-of-fact and she tugged her wrist out of his grasp.

Regulus blinked. “What?”

“I’m leaving,” she repeated, lifting her cold eyes to his again. “You can stay here. I’m going to stay with Remus and Sirius in London.”

Regulus felt like he’d been slapped. In fact, he’d have preferred being slapped to hearing this.  He stared at Flora, stunned by her finality. “But… you can’t leave. You can’t. What about the wards and the protection and—”

“I’ll be just as safe in London. Their home is protected. And anyway,” she glared, “Isn’t that what you wanted? Peace and quiet away from me?”

Regulus opened his mouth to reply but couldn’t find anything to say. Flora continued, “Sirius says him or Clem will come cook meals and clean for you, unless they can find a house elf to borrow.”

Regulus swallowed thickly. “Will you come back?”

“When I feel like it, maybe.”

“But-but their flat is too small! Where will you sleep? What about all your books and things?”

“Why does it concern you?” She snapped back.

He didn’t know how to answer. He felt this was unfair, that she would leave him here alone at the height of so much emotion, with so many questions, so many unsaid words.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said a little pathetically.

“That’s not what I understood when I heard you talking to Remus.”

“I never meant what I said! I wanted to make him angry and I said that and I don’t know why,” he said in a confused rush.

He grabbed her suddenly, catching hold of her elbows, but she just as quickly pushed him away and knocked him back a few steps. “What is the matter with you? You call me a beast, an animal, then you dare try and comfort me? And vice-versa, for that matter.”

“Flora, please. Please don’t go.”

They both stood still, regarding one another. Even in her anger, she looked so beautiful; and Regulus in his despair, with all his insolent aristocratic airs abandoned, was suddenly a boy with soft, gentle eyes and loving hands that Flora felt she could melt into if he touched her again.

“Why not?” She challenged in a tone slightly more calm.

“Because… I couldn’t bear it if you left,” he murmured, glancing down. “Even if just for a short while. This entire week of silence has been painful.”

Flora’s anger had slowly given way to something between resignation and sympathy. She suddenly felt sorry for him again, pained by the thought of leaving him alone here. Regulus looked at her again, gazing through his long eye lashes. He took an uncertain step towards her, like he was approaching a rabbit that would spring back any second. She looked at him, her eyes still scornful, but she didn’t throw him back this time.

“You hate me,” Flora said quietly, never dropping her gaze from his. It was a statement. A matter of fact.

Regulus shook his head. “No.”

“You called me a beast.”

“I didn’t mean it,” he said in a low voice, taking another step closer. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Their hearts were thudding. Regulus found her hands and he pulled the letter free from her fist, which had now loosened. He screwed it up and threw it aside. His eyes roved over her, taking in every aspect of her: the defiance in her eyes, her confusion, her anger, her desire. Flora took in a trembling, deep breath as he reached out and gently took hold of her hands again. She wanted to maintain her cool exterior, to hold onto her anger, but his closeness was intoxicating. She looked up into his eyes and he into hers, and both saw the cracks in the walls, the walls they had built around themselves falling apart. Regulus held onto her hands just lightly, tentatively, silently questioning whether she would take fright and pull away. She didn’t move.

“Please don’t go.”

Flora’s breath hitched softly in her throat. She wanted to resist, to push him away, but her resolve was weakening. Regulus felt the muscles in her hands and fingers soften as she relaxed them, letting them mould into his. He was a step away from closing the space between them. Their eyes were fixed on each other. He took that step closer and dropped his hold on her hands, tentatively taking hold of her hips instead. Their chests were pressed together, sharing a subtle warmth, feeling the rhythm of their hearts beating together.

“Don’t…” Flora whispered, shrinking away.

“Why not?” He murmured.

“Because I’m still so angry with you.”

“I was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s best we stay apart for a while,” she looked aside, downwards, suddenly unable to look at him. “It’s for the best,” she repeated, as though trying to convince herself more than him. “We’ve been stuck in this house together for too long and… and I expect we will both do something foolish if we don’t give each other space.”

“Foolish?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Her eyes subtly drifted over to the discarded letter at the foot of the bed. She straightened up and took a steady breath. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Flora—”

“No,” she said more firmly now, looking at him again. Her eyes darkened. She gently wormed her way free of him and stepped away. “I’m going. It’s for the best. I’ll say goodbye to you in the morning if you’re up. But for now, goodnight.”

Without waiting for his reply, she quickly left the room.

Chapter Text

Fifteen 

❦

Flora got up early the following morning. So did Regulus, who hadn’t actually slept at all. He was already downstairs in the kitchen when he heard Flora open her bedroom door. As she came down into the kitchen, suitcase in hand and several paperback books under her arm, she looked at him in surprise and then cast her eyes aside. She put her suitcase down by the front door, placed the books on top, and straightened up and adjusted her headband.

“Remus said he’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” she said.

Fifteen minutes. It wasn’t long, but perhaps it was enough time to try convince her to stay, Regulus considered. He nodded, briefly raking his eyes over her, then frowned. “Is Sirius coming too?”

“Sirius? I don’t know. Why?” She asked guardedly.

His eyes flickered back down, settling on the plaid mini skirt she was wearing. “Because half your skirt always seems to go missing whenever you know Sirius is coming.”

Flora coloured, half in anger, half in embarrassment, and she gave him her deadliest look. “It’s called fashion,” she countered.

“For who? Girls in denial?”

“Oh, will you shut up. I’m wearing it because I like it. As with everything I wear.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, which didn’t go unnoticed by Flora. She uselessly tugged her skirt down and wiggled her tights up, feeling self-conscious, and then went to the cupboard to get herself some breakfast.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Regulus asked, looking for a quick way to make amends. Criticising her skirt length had certainly not been the best way to start.

“I’ll make it.”

“No, I will.”

They both moved towards the kettle at the same time, stretching their hand out. Regulus, who was closer, already had his hand on the handle just as Flora reached it. She sharply drew back as their skin touched. Regulus had a smug look of triumph in his eyes, and that little smile turning up the corners of his mouth returned, which for some reason only irritated Flora more. If he thought she’d forget what he’d said — and what he’d written, for that matter — he could think again.

She was frustrated with him, yes, but no more than normal. To her private mortification, a part of her wanted to smile too. It was the part which also told her to stay, to forgive him and let him come close. Flora felt she should have been angrier about his lewd letter, but she found she wasn’t really angry at all when she woke up that morning thinking about it. Its explicitness had shocked her, but if she was honest, such a display of raw desire also excited and stirred her. She didn’t know what it was like to have sex, but she didn’t think it sounded unappealing with Regulus. At present though, she was as determined as ever to cling to her anger and ward him off. He kept getting too close.

“Why do you always have to be so… so… so annoying?” She snapped as he grabbed the kettle, crosser still because she couldn’t find a word better than annoying. Now she was talking to him again, she couldn’t seem to find her anger.

Regulus knew he was irritating her, but after such an awful week of silence he would do anything to make her speak to him again, even if it was to start another petty squabble. He feigned innocence as he went to fill the kettle with water. “What do you mean? I’m just making you tea.”

“You’re being a prick,” she muttered weakly, shaking her head and folding her arms.

“That’s just my default personality, darling,” he replied, flicking the kettle on and turning to look at her.

Flora flushed to her ears when he called her this. She quickly tried to swallow her surprise, narrowing her eyes on him. “And you’re insufferably cocky.”

“You should be flattered.”

She scoffed. “Flattered?”

“There’re not many muggles — in fact, there’s not any muggle in the world — that I would call beautiful apart from you.”

Flora’s mind flashed back to last night when he’d called her beautiful. The colour in her cheeks was rapidly and increasingly rising. She turned her eyes aside, glaring out of the window because she found she couldn’t glare at him anymore.

“That’s not the compliment you think it is,” she said coolly.

He frowned, looking genuinely perplexed. “How is that not a compliment?”

“Because it’s still condescending. It’d be like me saying I don’t normally think magic people are good-looking or worthy of my interest because I believe I’m better than you, but I’ll be oh-so-generous and make an exception for you.”

“That’s not valid though,” he replied.

“How on earth is that not valid?”

“Because wizards are better than muggles. It’s just an inherent fact,” he retorted, clearly believing every word he said and that his ability to overlook her muggleness was a gracious gesture on his part. “But I’ve made an exception for you.”

Flora took a deep breath to calm herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to be an exception,” she said sharply. “Don’t you get it?”

Regulus’ perplexed frown deepened as she spoke. “It’s a compliment,” he repeated.

“No, it’s not!”

“And why not?” He asked huffily, narrowing his eyes on her. “Would you rather I said you were ugly? Would that make you happier?”

“Oh my god,” Flora sighed angrily. “Forget it.”

He looked indignant now, drawing himself up. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry about it. I’m trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, well, pack it in before you make things worse than they already are,” she glared. “I’m still leaving. And I am still angry with you.”

Flora turned away and began to make herself some toast, refusing to look in his general direction the entire time. Regulus moodily got to work on the tea, making one for himself as well as her, and then set them down on the table. Instead of placing them opposite each other, however, he placed them side-by-side, as though they were to sit in the chairs beside each other. Flora took her usual seat opposite him though, casting him a withering look as she reached for her tea and slid it back to her side. A long, stiff silence ensued.

“So?” Flora demanded finally, the first to break the silence, just a moment before Regulus opened his mouth to speak.

He blinked. “What?”

“I’ll give you this time to explain yourself.”

“About… what specifically?”

“The letter.”

“Oh.”

He hadn’t expected her to bring it up so directly. He shifted uncomfortably and looked at his hands, which were clasped in front of him on the table. It looked like they were about to proceed with a formal interview. Flora waited.

“You…you weren’t supposed to read that version…” he mumbled.

“What was in the version I was supposed to read?”

“It was… sort of the same but without the obscenities.”

Flora stared at him. She wanted to know why he’d written it in the first place, if he really meant everything he’d said, but she just couldn’t bring herself to ask. She looked down at her tea in silence.

Regulus sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, briefly looking up at the ceiling. “It was just a stupid letter,” he said with finality when neither of them spoke for several moments. “It was crude and I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for what I said before that as well."

“Fine,” Flora grumbled, taking a sip of tea.

“Fine?”

“Fine.”

“What’s fine?” He demanded.

“Fine you’re sorry. I accept the apology.”

“For… both things?”

She shrugged. “I’ll accept your apology and we can forget it happened. It’s easier that way.”

“But not if you don’t really believe I’m sorry,” he replied quietly, fidgeting with a blackened toast crumb on his breakfast plate. He’d already eaten before Flora came downstairs, venturing to make toast and only slightly burning it.

“I don’t care anymore. It’s clear to me you’re not going to change how you think about me. Let’s just try and get along without calling each other names.”

His head snapped up, his eyes now wide with hope. “You’ll stay?”

“No,” Flora replied quickly, looking away because she couldn’t bear to look at his stupid, pretty eyes looking so forlorn. “I’m still going. I meant when I come back.”

“When will you come back?”

“When I feel like it,” she replied simply.

“When will that be?”

Flora sighed in irritation at his incessant questions. “When you decide to stop being an insufferable cunt!”

“I thought we were going to stop calling each other names.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“But…” he continued, clearly taking some pleasure in riling her up, “How will you know I’m not being a cunt if you’re not here?”

“I’ll send you an exam paper to complete,” she said dryly.

Regulus made a noise that sounded something like a short laugh. Flora hadn’t expected it, not only because she hadn’t meant to be funny, but because the closest she’d ever heard him laugh was usually a soft noise through his nose. This was a laugh, and when she looked at him, he was actually truly smiling. The dimples bloomed on his face. But his smile faded just as quickly as it appeared as he met Flora’s stony expression.

“You’re really going then?” He said.

“You don’t exactly make a compelling argument to stay.”

“I just… I thought…I hoped you might—” he squirmed, staring at the tabletop.

“What? Change my mind?” Flora cut in.

Regulus bristled at her tone, straightening up in his seat and finally fixing his eyes on her. “Yes, actually,” he said, “I hoped you would change your mind. Or at least give me another chance.”

Flora snorted. “You’ve had plenty of chances, Regulus. You had one not ten minutes ago when I pointed out your attempt at flattery is nothing more than veiled bigotry. You’ve had dozens of chances and you’ve used all of them to be, quite frankly, infuriating. I’ve had enough.”

“But… what about last night?” He ventured.

Flora stiffened. “What about it?”

“You must understand what I’m talking about.”

She did. Of course she understood. The closeness between them had been thrilling and they both now had the uncomfortable fear that, by her leaving, what they had established would slip away from them. But really, what had they established? Regulus had acknowledged her beauty, had touched her, but nothing more. The moment had been fleeting and confusing. His acknowledgment of her beauty was also severely misguided, tainted by his condescension, for all it told Flora was that if she hadn’t been lucky enough to be beautiful, he would have otherwise thought her repulsive like every other muggle.

Regulus regarded her with a look of expectation. He knew she understood what he was hinting at, and he waited for her response.

“It was just a moment,” Flora finally mumbled. “A lapse of judgement.”

“My judgement was perfectly clear.”

“Your letter was also perfectly clear,” Flora fixed her eyes on him squarely. “I was already considering leaving before that, but I felt sorry leaving you here alone. But now… I don’t want to be a victim of your passing fancy just because you’re bored and lonely.”

Regulus stared at her closely as she spoke. An uncomfortable look crept across his face, one which made his eyes drop briefly, guiltily, but it was also with understanding. “I wouldn’t do that,” he said softly. His voice felt intimate, as though he were about to make love to her that very moment in the kitchen. It made Flora’s stomach twist and flip. She had to look away, but Regulus continued to gaze intensely at her for a lingering moment, resting his chin in his hand.

Flora stood up in relief when she saw her brother coming up the garden path. She stood up so fast she upset the cups on the table and nearly sent her chair toppling backwards, though she paid it no mind and rushed to the door. To her mortification, Sirius was with him. She made a point of acting extra surprised to see him in front of Regulus, discreetly tugging down her skirt as the two came in and she stood behind them.

Remus pointedly ignored Regulus, not even deigning to look in his direction. He took Flora’s suitcase and books, and swiftly ushered her outside. They had a portkey — an old Doc Marten —ready to go in approximately seven minutes. Flora cast Regulus one last look before she stepped outside, gave him a cool nod and said, “Bye, Regulus. The house better still be standing when I get back.”

Regulus swallowed, his arms folded across his chest, trying to look indifferent. He gave her a short nod in return but said nothing. She left the house. Sirius remained though, shutting the door behind her, and turned to look at his younger brother. He hadn’t seen or spoken to Regulus since the ‘beast’ incident and it was clear he now had something to say.

“I’ve arranged for a house elf to come cook and clean for you. His name is Pod. He’ll come twice a day,” Sirius explained.

“Fine,” Regulus grumbled.

Sirius observed his brother, seeing straight through his efforts to appear unbothered. Regulus’ eyes kept darting away from Sirius and he kept his arms folded. Sirius didn’t say anything for a long moment, but just fixed him with a steely gaze. Regulus knew Sirius was considering his next words, working up to the scolding that was no doubt about to come.

“You’ve brought this on yourself, you know. What you said to Flora was out of order and—” he began.

Regulus at once cut him off, indignant. “I didn’t say it to her.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. She has ears and she heard you.”

“I don’t want any of your stupid lectures, Sirius,” Regulus scowled. “I apologised to her.”

Sirius made a sound of derision in his throat. “I’ve heard your apologies before, Reg. They’re pitiful.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Regulus grumbled.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Your apology? Yeah, I’m sure you didn’t.”

“No,” Regulus huffed. “What I said about her. I didn’t mean it.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“To get a rise out of Lupin. I don’t know. I was pissed off.”

Sirius stared at him for a long moment, as though he were trying to get a read on him.

“Speaking of Lupin,” Sirius went on steadily, folding his arms. “Did you say anything to Flora about…about me and Remus?”

Regulus had never been a very good liar. By contrast, Sirius was far better at hiding his emotions and thoughts, whereas Regulus had always been one to simply hide in general and avoid confrontations altogether. As a child, he had always relied on Sirius to lie for him or the both of them. His eyes darted aside as Sirius presently asked him this question, at once revealing the true answer even though he said, “No.”

Sirius stepped a little closer to his younger brother, frowning. “You did, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Regulus snapped back.

“Then why was she asking questions about whether her brother and I sleep in the same bed?”

“I don’t know."

“Because you told her.”

“I didn’t!”

“Reg, I told you not to say anything,” Sirius said grimly, his voice tense.

“And I’m telling you I didn’t say anything,” Regulus retorted stubbornly, glowering back at him darkly. “Maybe she figured it out herself. She’s not stupid.”

A look of surprise cross Sirius’ face at this last statement, not because he believed Flora was stupid, but because he’d assumed this was something Regulus firmly and openly believed. But he didn’t get a chance to remark on it, as Regulus quickly changed the subject—

“When will I get my wand back?” He demanded.

“Not any time soon after your little performance.”

Regulus clenched his jaw, trying to keep his temper in check. “Well then, if I get ripped apart by werewolves or hunted down by one of the Dark Lord’s inner circle, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. Nothing will happen to you if you stay put,” Sirius rolled his eyes.

“For how long?” Regulus unfolded his arms, raising his voice slightly as his irritation flared. “You said I could help. Instead you’ve kept me shackled up here day and night with nothing to do.”

“Because clearly you haven’t changed,” Sirius replied, still with a grim-set jaw. “I’ve protected you and vouched for you at Order meetings. But you’ve made me look like an idiot, and worse, because some are growing uneasy about me. You’re still the same arrogant and entitled boy we knew before you allegedly changed your allegiances.”

“Allegedly?” Regulus said, incited. “You have no idea what I’ve been through!”

“I’m not getting into this with you right now. I have to go. I simply wished to tell you the situation and that I’m keeping my eye on you. I’ll visit in the evenings.”

❦

Sirius left his brother stewing. Admittedly, he was a little sorry to leave him there alone. Flora felt sorry too, worrying that he would be lonely, but she was far too excited about being in London to worry about him for long. She had only been to London a few times in her life, but every visit was a cause of endless interest due to the slow, quiet nature of her young life. Very soon after she arrived with Remus and Sirius, which was swift and dizzying journey via portkey, she begged Remus to take her shopping.

“Please, you said we could go to Camden Market,” Flora reminded him, not wanting to waste a moment of the day. She was stood by the window, high up above the street and people below. The flat itself, situated over a shop that seemed to sell everything and nothing of use, was a converted Victorian terrace with a lot of stairs and no lift. It had a small living room with a gas fireplace, an even smaller kitchen, bathroom, and a bedroom. Flora would be taking the sofa in the living room, which Remus promised he would make bigger for her.

“Later, Flo,’ Remus said noncommittally. He slumped down in an armchair while Sirius made tea for the three of them.

Flora’s excitement left her quite suddenly, faced as she was with a brother who would only allow her to do things on his watch. It stifled her, reminding her at once that even here, in one of the biggest cities in the world, Remus would be limiting her movement.

“I’ll go by myself then,” Flora said, more to the purpose of seeing what his reaction would be. She didn’t really want to go alone.

“You absolutely will not,” he said at once, his expression hardening. “You’re not going anywhere by yourself.”

“I’m eighteen. You can’t stop me,” Flora challenged.

Sirius came in carrying a tray of tea, his expression mildly concerned. He looked from Flora to Remus and set down the tray on the coffee table, but feeling it wasn’t his place to interfere, said nothing.

“If you’re going to make me sit in here all day twiddling my thumbs, I’d rather go back home and sit with the Grim Reaper,” Flora added moodily.

“Flora, I didn’t say we wouldn’t go,” Remus frowned. “I just said later. I have a headache, and it’s raining anyway.”

“I’ll go with her,” Sirius said as he sat down beside Flora, taking both his cup of tea and hers, which he politely passed to her.

Flora’s expression brightened. Remus was resigned, knowing in this moment that keeping Flora under his eye was going to be much more challenging than it had been when she was far away in Wales.

“Fine,” he relented, “If Sirius goes with you.”

❦

Meanwhile, Regulus, now in an empty house, didn’t know what to do with himself. Sleeping seemed the best option, particularly as he had been awake all night thinking and fretting over Flora’s impending departure. And now she was gone. He went back to his room after Sirius left, undressed and climbed back into bed; he felt sleepy, defeated, and slept for twelve hours. When he awoke, it was dark outside. Normally the lights would be on at this time and Flora would be cooking dinner downstairs.

Regulus lay still for a long moment, disorientated and lethargic from sleeping so long, but saw no need or urgency to get up. He heard the low hoot of an owl outside in the surrounding trees, punctuating the silence of the house. He pushed the covers back and reached for the bedside lamp, turning it on and filling the room with an orange glow. He rubbed his face and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He felt oddly uneasy, at a loss of what to do. The condemning letter was still crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed, which he eyed with shame and regret. The letter he’d meant to give her remained on his bedside table.

After several minutes of deliberation, wondering over whether to simply go back to sleep or get up, he was finally forced to move out of necessity for the bathroom. He treaded across his room, noticing every creak of the floorboards this time, cringing at the groan of the old door; even the light in the bathroom seemed too bright, the running of the water too loud. When he came out again, he turned on the light on the landing, remembering suddenly what a fuss he had made about it the first evening he’d arrived. He paused by his bedroom door and looked to Flora’s closed door. It was a room firmly off-limits, barring the time she had led him in to listen for werewolves, and he’d had no desire to go in there until quite recently. Throughout the past week, he’d simply wondered what she was doing in there, unaware of the fact she mutually wondered what he did in his room all day. Both were curious about the other, and now Regulus had a chance to indulge this curiosity.

Still only in his boxers, he took the few steps to Flora’s bedroom and pushed open the door. The room was in darkness. In the countryside, there was no light unless the moon was out, and as there was no moon Regulus was met with total blackness. He switched the light on, standing in the doorway of a feminine haven, hesitating. He knew he shouldn’t go in, that he had no right to invade her privacy, but his desire to understand her overruled these objections. He observed the room first from the doorway, sweeping his gaze over it, inventorying the number of lipstick tubes, perfume bottles, and cosmetics which littered her dressing table — like most of the furniture in the house, it was old, a great big oak piece with a heavy square mirror, which in turn was adorned with photographs. An embroidered stool was half-tucked beneath it.

For as tidy and particular Flora was in her housekeeping, her bedroom did not reflect this; knickers were crumpled on the floor, dresses and skirts were draped over the base of her bed, a bra was hanging on the door handle. The walls of the room were a soft pink, decorated with posters of singers and bands, and then old paintings of country scenes and Beatrix Potter characters; and her bed, a white four-poster, was cluttered with mismatched pillows and well-loved stuffed animals. In the centre of the room lay her record player, and scattered around it were all her records. The room had a lingering odour of perfume on skin, of unwashed hair and sweet notes from the array of cosmetics lined up on her dressing table.

Regulus took it all in, mystified not only by the enigma of her being a muggle, but also of simply being a girl. He suddenly didn’t dare take another step. There was a harmony within this room that he had no desire to disturb. He retreated at once, turning off the light, and returned to the sanctuary of his own room with an odd heaviness in his chest.

Chapter Text

Sixteen

❦

Flora tried not to think of Regulus. She went to Camden Market with Sirius that first day she arrived, while Remus stayed behind to nurse his headache. Though she knew better, her old long-standing feelings for Sirius resurfaced during those hours they spent looking at jewellery and secondhand clothes and records. She knew it was unwise to entertain such feelings for Sirius, given his alleged relationship with her brother, but she couldn’t help it. The familiarity and comfort of their friendship reignited the fire of her affection, and it didn’t help that he laughed at her jokes and asked her questions about herself like he was genuinely interested. She watched as he looked over a jewellery stall, his long fingers idly picking up a necklace and examining it before setting it back down again.

“Do you wear jewellery?” Sirius suddenly asked, looking at her. His hair was a little damp from the rain and it hung in his eyes carelessly.

Flora hadn’t expected the question, distracted as she was watching his hands and fingers, then by his hair, and stared at him stupidly for a brief moment. “Uh… yeah, yes… sometimes,” she replied.

He smiled at her, seemingly oblivious to how flustered she was getting, and continued to browse through the jewellery, his fingers skimming over the various items on display with a careless grace. Regulus had that same grace, that same lazy air unique to the aristocratic. Flora quickly pretended to look at something on the other end of the table. But he came back, standing close at her side.

“I’d like to get you a gift,” he said, “As a thank you for looking after my surly little brother.”

Flora lifted her eyes to look at him, her cheeks pink, “Oh no, you don’t have to—” she started, but Sirius cut her off.

“I want to,” he said, his eyes soft and grateful. “I can’t imagine what it must be like for you putting up with a prissy little git like Reggie. I mean, he’s a bit of a dick even to me. But for you…”

The nickname ‘Reggie’ at once endeared her, and she felt a smile creep across her face. She’d heard Sirius call him it once before. It was obviously a childhood nickname, and it made her involuntary imagine a side to him that wasn’t so brooding and callous.

“Reggie?” She laughed.

Sirius laughed with her, his smile wide. “Yeah, Reggie. The same one who glowers at everyone.”

“I suspect he didn’t always.”

“No,” Sirius shook his head. “He used to be quite sweet when he was little.”

“Did he?” She drifted to the next table along the stall, scanning her eyes over the bracelets. She wasn’t much interested in jewellery, never finding it as much fun as shopping for clothes, but she supposed it would improve her looks. The last person to buy her jewellery was a boyfriend she had had when she was fourteen; it was a great ugly bracelet with bright blue stones that dwarfed her thin wrist, and she’d only worn it to be polite. She wondered warily if Sirius would pick out something horrible too, but then again, he generally had good taste.

“Mhm,” Sirius nodded, watching her eyes as she studied the display. “He was very shy and quiet. He used to get nightmares a lot, and he’d crawl into my bed and cling to me. He was quite clingy all the time, actually, always wanted to be near me. And he loved animals…magical creatures and all that. He loved cats though, and kneazles. He had this stuffed toy kneazle — he still had it up until I left home, actually. Would carry it everywhere.”

Flora listened with interest, trying to imagine this sweet-tempered, sensitive version of Regulus. She’d seen it sometimes, in his eyes. There was softness to them at certain moments.

“I bet he’ll skin you alive for telling me that,” Flora replied.

Sirius smirked. “Oh, he’ll be furious. And he hates when I call him Reggie. He claims it makes him sound like a child. But I can’t help it, he acts like a child anyway.”

As he said this, he picked up a silver necklace with a small sunburst charm. He held it up for Flora to see. “Do you like this?” He asked.

Flora nodded, truthfully rather indifferent to the particular style of the necklace, but knowing she would like it if it were a gift from Sirius. “It’s pretty,” she said.

“We can find something prettier for you,” he put it down again, sensing her apathy, and began to look over the other necklaces.

“Sirius, you don’t need to get me anything,” Flora objected, feeling a little embarrassed. She hated choosing gifts with someone watching.

“Flo, I want to,” Sirius replied brusquely. “Look, why don’t you go look at another stall and I’ll pick out a necklace for you.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to leave your sight,” Flora grumbled, recalling her older brother’s words.

Sirius rolled his eyes and smiled. “Forget Moony. I trust you.”

Flora sighed, glancing over at another stall which had already caught her attention earlier — a clothing sale. “Fine,” she conceded. “I’ll be over there.”

“Don’t wander far though,” Sirius called after her as she began to leave, “Or Moony really will kill me.”

Flora turned her head and gave a single nod in acknowledgement. She resented their watchfulness and felt inclined to wander far just out of spite. Maybe she would disappear for a whole day, she thought, just to come back and prove she can look after herself. Presently, though, instead of disappearing into the crowd, she wandered over to the clothing stall and began looking through rails of secondhand dresses from the sixties. She was still wearing her mini skirt, the one Regulus had rudely commented on that morning, but was glad of it when she saw her reflection while walking through the city with Sirius; her legs looked so long and she was sure she caught him looking at them earlier. It was a skirt she’d made herself with one of her mum’s sewing patterns, when micro mini skirts had been new and all the rage. She was looking now for mini dresses; with Mod fashion reviving, Flora had no shortage of choice.

Flora had money from her parents. Now she was eighteen, she had full access to her half and had withdrawn £50 for shopping, which she fully intended to spend and which Sirius encouraged her to spend. Remus would disapprove, as he was frugal with money, but she didn’t care what he thought. She was irritable as she browsed the dresses, however, aware that Sirius was dutifully watching her from the corner of his eye — and not in the way she wanted. She pulled out a woollen, cream-coloured dress with two box pleats and two buttons. She held it up against herself to look in the mirror, decided it would suit her and (happily) would scandalise Remus by how short it was and hopefully intrigue Sirius. She bought it and then moved on to another stall further down, easing her way through the crowd.

It had been so long since she’d seen so many people. The most of anything she’d seen in one place were sheep; she decided in this moment that she rather liked city life, though she knew she would eventually tire of it and want to go home to her peaceful cottage. She involuntarily thought of Regulus, wondering what he was doing and if he was alright. Not that she ought to care, she reminded herself. She moved to a stall selling paperback books and began to peruse the classics. She glanced around for any sight of Sirius, but couldn’t see him anymore, which meant he probably also couldn’t see her. She knew she should go back to where he was, but she held a certain satisfaction in making him look for her. So she remained put, venturing deeper into the tables stacked with books and picking out anything that mildly interested her.

Sirius reappeared at her side not five minutes later, and apparently not at all concerned she’d gone missing, which meant he’d probably had his eye on her the whole time. He was beaming, holding a paper bag, and Flora shot him a sidelong glance.

“Shall we get some chips?” He asked, “I’m quite hungry.”

Flora nodded and went to pay for her books, then followed Sirius to a fish and chip shop. A short moment later they stood together by Regent Canal eating very salty, vinegary chunky chips, their fingers shiny with grease. Sirius was devouring them like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Merlin, I love muggle food,” he said.

Flora looked at him. “Don’t wizards have chips?”

“Not ones this good,” he shook his head.

She smiled and looked away, staring off into the crowd. She paused in her eating to take a sip of water, which she had also bought.

“Are you having a nice time?” Sirius asked her.

Flora nodded. “Yes.”

“Must be unbearable sometimes being stuck in that house.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Flora replied meaningfully.

Sirius regarded her for a long moment, long enough for Flora to sense his gaze and turn her head to look at him. He smiled again, looked down briefly, then back at her again. “You know, he does like you, Flora,” he said, his voice sincere. “Regulus, I mean.”

Flora felt herself flush, alarmed that even Sirius had something to say about the situation and wondering how on earth he had drawn this bizarre conclusion. “No, he doesn’t,” she frowned.

“Please, I’m not as oblivious as I look,” he said with a little smirk. “I know my brother. He likes you.”

“Well, he’s got a funny way of showing it.”

“He looked like he was going to cry when you left this morning,” Sirius half joked.

“Crying of happiness, more like,” Flora replied. Though outwardly calm, her heart rate had picked up; she knew Regulus hadn’t wanted her to leave, but to hear it confirmed by an outsider to the situation made her wonder just how much Regulus really cared. She couldn’t help herself asking next, “He will…he’ll be alright by himself, won’t he?”

Sirius smiled softly. “He’ll be fine. He’s a big boy, I’m sure he can take care of himself for a while. I got him a house elf to clean and cook, so that leaves him plenty of time to keep up with his hobbies.”

“Hobbies?”

“Brooding, sulking… He’s probably basking in the silence right now.”

Sirius, having now finished his chips threw the greasy newspaper into a nearby bin and wiped his fingers and mouth on a napkin, which he also tossed into the bin. He then pulled out the paper bag from his leather jacket and held it out to Flora.

“Your gift,” he said warmly.

Flora put her chips aside on the wall of the bridge to take the gift. She knew it was a necklace, as that was what he’d said he was looking for; it was in a small pink cardboard box, which she opened carefully because her fingers were still greasy. Inside was a delicate silver necklace with a small charm in the shape of a daisy; the centre was set with a yellow stone and the petals were white-silver. It was a simple necklace, but Flora found it was exactly the sort of thing she liked.

“It reminded me of you straight away,” Sirius explained. “A flower for an even prettier flower.”

Flora wasn’t sure whether she’d cope better being stuck simmering with Regulus or agonising pointlessly over Sirius and his casual flirting. Her cheeks burned horribly, she was sure he must’ve noticed, though she tried to maintain her composure. She took the necklace out of the box and held it up in admiration.

“It’s lovely, Sirius, thank you,” she said, though unable to make eye contact.

“Let me put it on for you,” he extended his hand for it.

“No,” Flora said at once, darting back. “I’ll do it.”

❦

Regulus knew he would have to do some clever backpedaling if he wanted to redeem himself in Flora’s eyes, but how to do this without her eyes on him was the bigger part of the problem. Now he had time to reflect alone, it embarrassed him to think of all the ways he had tried — and failed — to win her over. At first, he realised, it had not even been conscious. He wasn’t even really sure when it had started, this desire for her, the physical need to gain her affection — it could have been the night they heard the werewolves and stayed up together, or before that, when he’d taught her how to waltz in the garden. It could have been when Sirius had danced with her on her birthday, or when she had cried because he’d hurt her wrist. It could’ve been any of them, or all of them. His mind was scrambled, confused, trying desperately to come to terms with it. Now she was gone, he felt his desire for her more acutely, her absence like a missing limb, and he indulged fully in this uncomfortable reflection.

For days after she left, her closed bedroom door tormented him. He had been tormented before by this very thing, except last time she had been in the room, a silent safeguard to his desire. It was the emptiness which made it unbearable. Without Flora in there to prevent him, he could enter and completely undo himself in a way he had never done before. Fantasising about her in the sanctuary of his bedroom was one thing, and he was not particularly proud about it, but it felt safe, private, and it made it feel less real; entering her room would feel like an assault both on Flora and on the precious sanctity his own mind, but more crucially, it would make it real. Regulus never once forgot she was non-magic. He grappled with his desire for her, advising himself that it meant nothing, it was just about feeling good, a sexual release that all men needed, when deep down he knew that wasn’t entirely true. He was fond of Flora and craved her in ways beyond the physical sense.

He started listening to the radio just to fill the long silences. Every song he heard spoke of Flora to him. He started reading her books, and within the pages he found some variation of his feelings laid out for him to read. Flora had finished Pride and Prejudice weeks ago and left the book behind in the living room, so Regulus took up reading it to see what had had her so absorbed. What struck him most peculiar of all was that in these muggle books he was reading, and in the muggle music he was listening to, he had achieved the seemingly impossible and unsettling revelation of relating to them. He saw himself, his own flawed, proud character, in Mr Darcy; and in Elizabeth Bennet he saw Flora’s fiery wit. Flora had read a number of books since Regulus arrived, but had left this particular book lying on the coffee table. Regulus couldn’t help wondering if she had done it on purpose.

The house elf, Pod, came and went quietly each day. Sirius visited every other evening to check on him and bring him things — more magazines, newspapers, books, sweets, toiletries. It didn’t escape his notice that Regulus was reading Flora’s books, but knowing Regulus would probably get prickly, he didn’t remark on it.

“Has she said when she’ll come back yet?” Regulus asked Sirius exactly three days into his exile. Regulus was sitting in the armchair Flora usually sat in, the one with her crochet blanket draped over the back. He had a cup of tea (which he’d made himself just to show off to Sirius) cradled in his hands.

Sirius, who was sprawled languidly on the sofa, simply answered, “Nope.”

Regulus scowled at his brother’s answer, knowing full well that he was enjoying his suffering. “I assume she’s having a wonderful time, then,” he grumbled bitterly.

“She is, actually,” Sirius replied. The living room was in partial darkness but neither of them, not even Sirius who had a wand, moved to turn the light on. Sirius yawned and closed his eyes, his hands folded on his abdomen like a dead man laid to rest.

“What… what has she been doing?” He ventured next.

Sirius opened one eye. “Spending all her money. Why? You missing her, Reggie?”

“No,” he snapped back at once, his brow darkening.

Sirius opened both eyes to look at his brother, smirking. “Sounds like you are.”

“Why would I miss her?”

“Well, there was one flattering thing I recall you saying about her during your little tirade with Remus— that she was easy on the eye, which I agree, she is.”

Regulus stiffened. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did.”

Regulus let out a huff through his nose, looking away at the cold, empty fireplace. “It’s cold,” he grumbled. “Light the fire.”

“Say please.”

“Piss off.”

“Prick.”

Sirius was a little cold himself though, so he lazily reached for his wand in his pocket and lit a fire without moving from his comfortable position on the sofa. Regulus sipped his tea and looked back at his brother measuredly.

“Where did she go that day?” He asked. He had always been curious about it, but until now had been too stubborn to ask.

“Woods,” Sirius answered. “Way out of the boundaries… and quite close to where those werewolves have been running around. But don’t tell Remus that.”

Regulus frowned, gripped suddenly by uneasiness. “Won’t they have picked up on her scent?”

“I don’t doubt it,” Sirius said. “In some ways, maybe she’s safer in London. Even if she goes out, it would be difficult to track her down by scent alone.”

“But she’s safe here too,” Regulus insisted at once. “The barriers around the house are strong. And if I had my wand back—”

“You’re not getting your wand back.”

“But I’m here all the time,” he reasoned. “You and Remus can’t always be there to protect her. I could if I had my wand.”

Sirius regarded him closely. “Am I really to believe you wouldn’t throw her to the wolves if it came between you and her?”

Regulus’ face dropped into a scowl. “Do you really always think the worst of me?”

“Lately, yes.”

“Well,” he glared, “You’re wrong.”

“That’s what I hope.”

❦

On the fifth day alone, Regulus felt like he was losing his mind. He tried to take a walk outside every day, finding some solace in the autumn colours descending around him, but there was little he could do in the evenings. Once Sirius went home, Regulus didn’t know what to do with himself. He was distrustful of the television because it had once given him a static shock, so he never turned it on, and even reading eventually became exhausting. He often took himself up to bed early, forcing himself to ignore the temptation of Flora’s bedroom, and indulged in his most thrilling fantasies about her — taking her in the kitchen was his latest one. He was vaguely starting to wonder if he was developing a sex problem, as he’d never masturbated this much before. But then, he reasoned, there was little else to do with his time.

He had just come out of the shower one evening after Sirius left. There was some freedom in being able to walk through the house half naked, just in a towel, without any sense of indecency. He decided to stay naked when he returned to his bedroom, dropping down on the bed with a heavy sigh, and stared up at the ceiling blankly. It was too early to sleep, but felt too late to do anything else. He picked up Pride and Prejudice, which was sitting on his bedside table, and opened it to the page he’d marked it on, just a page before Mr Darcy’s first proposal.

But Regulus’ mind wandered until he was simply staring at the book rather than reading it. His door was partly open and he imagined that Flora was here, passing by his room and seeing him, with a glance, sprawled out naked on his bed. She would come to him and he would pull her to him, slowly undress her, make love to her. Regulus saw it all behind his closed eyes. He put the book aside and looked down at himself, slid his hand down his stomach to his stiffened cock and began to rub himself, moving his wrist up and down in a languid motion, surrendering to his desire with her name on his lips.

❦

Entering her bedroom was a thought he continually entertained. In one way, he was simply curious, and in another he wanted to feel close to her. A full week had passed and there was no indication she would be coming back any time soon. And so on the evening of that seventh night alone, Regulus found himself standing outside her bedroom door again, considering and wrestling with his sense of propriety. It was her room, her private space, and he had no right to invade that. And yet, he craved her presence. He wanted to touch her things, work her out, just be surrounded by her. With his stomach in knots, he put his hand on the doorknob, paused a moment, then twisted and pushed it open.

It was just like the last time; her room lay in stillness, as if frozen in time, and he was at first too nervous to take another step, as if some alarm would go off the moment he entered. But nothing happened, of course, when he finally took that first step into the room. He released a breath he hadn’t until now realised he was holding, and moved over to her bedside table to turn the small lamp on. He couldn’t bear flicking the ceiling light on, to flood the room and him in guilty, revealing brightness. This small lamp, which was dusty pink with fringe trimmed along the edge, bathed the room in a dim orange light.

He stood there a moment and surveyed the room for a second time, this time from within, and wandered over to the main feature of her room: her dressing table. Now he was in front of it, he noticed the photographs tacked around the mirror — they were mostly pictures of her and Remus, at various ages from babyhood to now, and her parents. He looked at one particular picture of Flora, who looked to be about two, sitting on her mother’s knee with a huge smile on her face like she was laughing at something off-camera. It struck him at once that she looked a lot like her mother, while it simultaneously occurred to him that he had once been a small child like her too; their interests at this age had probably not been much different to any other child, whether that child was muggle or magic. It was a sudden, disorientating moment for him, to realise that he had been looking at her through a distorted lens warped by the nonsense he’d been fed his whole life.

He looked over all her photographs, narrowing in on the most recent ones — polaroids of her with Sirius on her birthday, her face next to his, beaming; her arms around Remus’ neck. What surprised him most of all though was a photograph of him and Flora; he had no recollection of it ever having been taken, and it had obviously been taken as a joke—Flora was leaning down beside him in the armchair, smiling widely, giving a thumbs up, while Regulus scowled darkly at the camera. He had a balloon in his hands, like some kind of miserable clown. But she’d tacked it to her mirror; the fact it was there at all, and not in the bin, made Regulus feel oddly warm inside.

His eyes drifted to the perfumes and cosmetics scattered across the table. He wasn’t sure which perfume she wore the most often, but he knew it was floral and so reached for a small white bottle with a silver top and what looked like lilies on the label— Anaïs Anaïs, it was called. It was also the bottle at the front of all the others. He pulled the lid off and brought it to his nose, inhaled, and felt his all senses, all his desires awaken with a delightful and devastating start. This was definitely the one she wore. He breathed her in, clutching the bottle, feeling a sudden urge to cry for the pain he felt twisting around his heart. He kept hold of it as he moved away from the dressing table.

The idea that came to him next seized him quite suddenly as he wandered over to her bed. He lay down, curled up and buried his face in her lace-edged pillow. The scent of her surrounded him. She hadn’t changed her bedding before she left and he was glad of it; he could smell her hair, the faint notes of the very perfume he held in his hand, her skin, her sweat. It filled his senses until he felt drunk on it. He turned his head and sprayed the perfume, watching the mist float around his head and settle around him. He rolled onto his back, shut his eyes and covered his face with his hands. He missed her. He didn’t want to miss her. Whatever was happening to him, it was happening violently and he had no idea what it was, or what to do. One thing he did know was that he only had himself to blame for pushing her away.

He lay there for a long moment simply enjoying the comfort it brought him, breathing her in. He imagined her climbing into bed with him, wearing those pink nylon babydoll pyjamas she sometimes wore and got bashful about whenever he happened to see her in them. If she had to come downstairs in them, or move across the hallway when he was there, she always rushed away as fast as she could and told him not to look at her, a blur of pink flounces. But he loved them.

He reached down and unbuttoned his trousers, his hand moving slowly, almost gingerly at first. Though he’d done this plenty of times before, this was her bed and he knew he was crossing a line by being there at all. But he wasn’t about to stop now. It would kill him to stop. He slipped his hand into his boxers, tugged his trousers looser around his hips and shut his eyes. He stroked himself slowly, caressing the head of his weeping cock, his pleasure rapidly building. He turned his head to one side, burying his face back into her pillow, clutching it, breathing her in like he was starved of oxygen. He moaned softly, the intensity of his pleasure enfolding him.

His hand moved faster, more urgently. It would never be enough unless Flora materialised in the flesh to join him. But for now. For now imagining her was he could do— her slender legs wrapped around him, her hands on his back, her lips on his neck, and him deep inside her.

His orgasm fell upon him almost without warning. It was sudden, violent, shuddering. His ejaculation spilled out in his hand and onto the flowery coverlet, a terrible mark of proof he had crossed a line. The rest stuck to his abdomen, spilled into his belly button. For a moment he lay there in a daze, his eyes closed, floating weightlessly on the dopamine rush that lulled him to sleep, feeling both satisfied and emptier than ever.

❦

“I’m going to the shop,” Flora announced to both Remus and Sirius as she gathered up some coins from a side table by the front door.

Remus looked up from his book, glancing out the window to confirm whether it really was dark. Sirius was sitting at the window, which was open and letting a cool breeze blow in, smoking a cigarette. He also looked over, but only to acknowledge Flora, and then turned back to watching the street below. Remus had been overruled in this matter previously, forced to permit Flora to go two minutes down the street to the corner shop. Nevertheless, he attempted to dissuade her—

“It’s dark,” he said with a frown.

“It’s just down the street, Remus. Let me live,” Flora said dismissively, already putting her shoes on.

“I’ll come with you,” he put his book aside.

“No, you won’t,” Flora replied, quickly opening the door and pulling her coat on as she slipped off. “I’m getting woman things. I’ll be back in five minutes. Ta ta tan toc!”

With her abrupt goodbye, she shut the door before she could see his face or respond and hurried down the endless stairs. Her footsteps echoed, but no other footsteps followed. As she expected, she safely made it to the shop only a few minutes later, just like the half-dozen other times she had managed the journey alone.

There weren’t many people inside, but there never were. It was a small shop where Sirius and Remus bought their cigarettes, and lately where Flora ran errands to buy bread and milk or anything else they needed. The cashier was usually a sullen old man, but tonight there was a boy at the counter.

When Flora came back, she had a loaf of bread, a half pint of milk, chocolate, and a very agitated look on her face. Remus frowned.

“I just bought bread. Why have you—”

“Remus,” she cut in, her tone pleading, “Will you go get the things I need? There was a fit boy at the counter.”

Sirius snorted and started to laugh, while Remus looked absolutely bewildered as he stared back at his flustered sister.

“You have to be joking…” Remus started.

“Please.”

Chapter Text

Seventeen

❦

Regulus sat listening to an oddly comforting, jaunty tune on the radio the following morning. He was alone. The house elf had already been and prepared a cooked breakfast, cleaned and left. Regulus didn’t feel like eating though; he pushed the egg around on his plate with his fork, his chin in his hand. He’d heard this song before. Flora, with her eclectic taste, had played it several times and he knew it was by a band called The Cure—

I would say I'm sorry

If I thought that it would change your mind

But I know that this time

I have said too much

Been too unkind

It had had no meaning then, but now as he listened to it he felt like something bigger than him was at hand, conspiring to force him to amend his ways. Many songs had reminded him of Flora since she left, but none had gone into his head completely and reflected the situation back to him so plainly. He vaguely wondered if muggle devices had some kind of ability to pick up one’s mood and that he, along with a handful of other sad, regretful boys, were the only ones hearing this particular song at this exact moment.

Boys don’t cry

His father had said that to him many times. Regulus had always been sensitive; he’d cried when Sirius left him to go to Hogwarts, and he’d cried when Sirius left home. He’d always been the first to break if he and his brother got into trouble, and more often than not, it only got him a harsher beating. He’d since learned to hold back, bottle it. But he wanted to cry now. Timid with shame, he’d tried to clean the bed linen as best as he could manage with a damp cloth, when really what he wanted to do was burn the whole thing and dispose of the evidence like a murder scene. He felt weak. As it stood, he firmly decided never to step foot in her room again and to stop his ridiculous, lust-fuelled fantasies. He was going to do something useful with his time instead, something for Flora, determined to make amends for his transgressions in some way.

When Sirius arrived later that day, a little earlier than normal, he found Regulus outside in the garden, knelt down in a flower bed, pulling out weeds and removing dead leaves from around a rose shrub. Sirius at once stopped short, blinking in surprise at seeing his brother, always so prim and tidy, elbows deep in dirt. Regulus didn’t even notice his arrival.

“What are you doing, Reg?” Sirius asked.

Regulus jumped, abruptly turning around. He had a smudge of dirt across his cheek and on the end of his nose, and a piece of twig stuck in his messy hair. He coloured, staring back stupidly for a moment.

“I’m tidying up the garden,” he said, then swiftly scowled and wiped his hands on his jeans.

An amused smile crept across Sirius’ face. “You? Tidying up the garden? What next, I’ll come back and find you retiling the roof?”

Regulus rose to his feet with a frown, picking at the dirt under his nails. “You’re early.”

“I thought I’d join you for dinner,” he shrugged. He then fumbled around in his jacket and pulled out a small, crumpled envelope, which he then extended to Regulus. “And Flora asked me to give you this.”

Regulus’ heart jumped, filled with a new wave of hope. He took the envelope at once, staining it with the grime and dirt on his fingers, and hurriedly opened it. He was dismayed before he read it to see it was only a very short note—

Hello Regulus,

I forgot to tell you: if the hot water suddenly goes cold, you need to reset the switch on the wall. It’s next to the front door. Turn it off for five minutes, then turn it on again. A red light will come on when it’s working.

Flora  x

Regulus frowned and looked at Sirius. “Did she have any other messages for me?”

“Only that you better not have wrecked the house and stayed out of her knicker drawer. Do you want to send a message back?”

Regulus’ frowned, feeling that flicker of guilt again; he knew he’d done worse than go through her drawers. But he considered the question. It had never occurred to him to write a letter to her, not since the last letter catastrophe. He shook his head and looked back the flowerbed, observing his hard work. Sirius looked too.

“You’ve never gardened in your life. What’s up with you?” He asked in disbelief.

“There’s nothing else to do around here,” Regulus replied snippily. “I’m bored.”

Sirius shook his head, sighing. “Well, just be careful its weeds you’re pulling up and not her flowers.”

“How…” Regulus paused, “How can you tell the difference?”

They ate a good meal together. Pod, a quiet and aloof elf of a wisened age, cooked like a five-star chef and every night produced elaborate meals of veal or steak, smoked salmon, roasted chicken, pot roasts, and so forth. As delicious as they were though, Regulus missed Flora’s home cooking— particularly her shepherd’s-pie-which-was-really-cottage-pie. Tonight it was honey-roasted chicken and roast potatoes. But Regulus didn’t feel particularly hungry and pushed his remaining potatoes around, staring glumly at the oozing gravy and idly listening to Sirius talk about the latest thing he’d done with his flying motorbike.

“How’s your back?” Sirius asked after a lull in his talking.

“Huh?”

“Your back. The scars.”

Regulus tensed at the question. Though he had certainly never forgotten the experience, he paid little mind to it recently and didn’t like to revisit it. The scars had healed, leaving only faint white lines across his skin.

“It’s been over a month now, Reg,” Sirius went on carefully when Regulus didn’t answer.

Regulus stabbed at a potato and began to eat again, avoiding his brother’s eye. He still said nothing, so Sirius continued.

“If you told us more, we could trust you better,” he paused, watching Regulus, then went on, “And we could help you.”

“What do you want me to say?” he mumbled, a hint of irritation in his voice. “There’s nothing left to tell. It’s over. And I don’t need nor want your help.”

Sirius leaned back in his chair, studying his brother with a mixture of concern and frustration. He could feel the defensiveness in Regulus’ tone.

“That’s the thing, Reg,” he said, choosing his next words carefully. “It’s not over, is it? You never told us exactly what happened.”

Regulus saw an opportunity at this reminder. When he’d found Sirius that awful night, disapparating with the last shred of strength he had left, he was babbling like a lunatic, crying and had to be subdued with a potion. He’d slept fitfully for days, and when he finally did come around and could speak coherently, the horror of what he had faced was too overwhelming to verbally recall. He’d clammed shut, answering questions vaguely and only speaking to Sirius. Regulus still did not wish to revisit this particular memory, but he realised he potentially had something to gain by doing so.

“Then bring me to an Order meeting and I’ll tell you everything,” he said. “But I want my wand back.”

“I’m not in charge of that. Mad-Eye has it locked away somewhere.. worried I’d give in and give you it if I kept it.”

“I don’t care,” Regulus huffed, “Just get it back for me.”

“Let’s take this one thing at a time, Reg,” Sirius replied. “If you’re going to talk, I’ll tell them and we can arrange a meeting.”

“I’ll talk if they give me my wand back.”

“It’s not going to work that way,” Sirius frowned. “You’ll talk and it will be because you want to help.”

“Why should I?” He snapped back. “You’ve essentially put me in solitary confinement. Why can’t I come back to London too?”

“Because it’s a one-bedroom flat and there’s no where for you to sleep with Flora there.”

Regulus sighed angrily, rubbing his hands over his face. “There’s nothing to do here!”

“Then talk,” Sirius said with a stern look. “Talk, and not just because you want something out of it.”

“And then what? You’ll just bring me back here to do nothing all day.”

“Not necessarily,” Sirius replied calmly. “You could attend more meetings, maybe do an odd job here and there.”

Regulus looked away sullenly, his jaw clenching. “I don't want to be involved.”

“Then what do you want, Regulus?” Sirius said, exasperated.

“I want my freedom and I want my wand.”

“What part are you not grasping here?” Sirius snapped. “You ran away. You’ll be killed if you’re found.”

“Then let me protect Flora,” he replied, leaning forward in his chair and pushing his plate aside. “If you give me my wand back, I’ll maintain the wards, check the area around the house, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. So then I’m still helping you and Lupin, see? And I’ll tell you everything else that happened.”

Sirius regarded Regulus closely for a prolonged moment, his eyes narrowed. Then, with a directness which surprised Regulus, he said, “You like her, don’t you? I know you do.”

Regulus flushed to his ears. “Don’t be absurd. I don’t like her,” he frowned. 

“Then why have you gone red?”

“I haven’t!” He went redder still.

“You want your wand back and you want Flora to come back, am I right?”

“I want my wand back.”

“And Flora.”

“I don’t care about Flora,” Regulus replied stubbornly.

“Then why offer to protect her?”

“I’m bargaining,” he returned shortly with a little sniff.

Sirius paused, considering his next words. “Reg,” he started carefully, “There’s nothing wrong with caring, you know?”

Regulus swallowed thickly. His mouth felt dry and he was unable to look his brother in the eye. “I don’t care. I don’t like her and she doesn’t like me.”

“Well, maybe she would if you weren’t so rude and nasty all the time.”

“Hardly matters now,” Regulus glowered. “She’s not here.”

“And whose fault is that?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, will you leave me alone,” Regulus snarled, pushing his chair noisily and standing up. “Go back to your stupid werewolf boyfriend.”

Sirius looked grim, growing increasingly irritated with his little brother, but he also rose from his chair and took up his jacket. “Fine, I’m going. Enjoy your solitude, Reggie.”

Sirius was thinking though.

❦

Flora didn’t have the nerve to go back into the shop for the next couple of days. The encounter with the boy had shaken her because in all points he looked almost exactly like Sirius. Or perhaps it was just his hair. The boy had the same long hair, but when Flora reflected and tried to remember his face, she did recall him having a similar handsome nose, masculine jawline, and the same grey eyes. The most glaring difference was that he was Scottish. In her mind, she called him the Scottish Sirius and could not get that out of her head once she invented it. Over and over she went on their brief conversation, the way he’d smiled at her, the look he’d given her. It had made her stomach squirm.

When she finally went back, it was premeditated; she’d walked past the shop first just to confirm that he was in there, crossed the street and came back to the flat to touch up her makeup. Remus looked at her oddly.

“I forgot something,” she said by way of explanation. “I’m going now.”

Remus noticed she didn’t pick up anything else or do anything different (besides applying lipstick) from five minutes ago when she’d first left the flat. He shared a look with Sirius.

Flora flew back down the stairs, though not too fast because she didn’t want her face to look red and flushed. She paused to fix her skirt and then stepped back out onto the street, her heart thudding horribly as she walked towards the shop.

The shop boy smiled when he saw her come in and Flora wondered if it was because he had recognised her from last time. She smiled shyly in return and moved towards the back of the shop to pick up items she didn’t need, taking her time. There were no other people in the shop and she felt painfully aware of her presence. She approached the counter with a bag of apples, washing up liquid, shower gel, and a packet of biscuits. She kept her eyes low until everything was set down for him to price, at which point she realised he was looking her in the eyes, smiling. She smiled back, her cheeks flushing pink.

“Alright?” He nodded by way of greeting.

Flora nodded quickly, “Mhm, yes. You?”

“Yeah,” he glanced back at the till as he priced everything up and snatched up a stripy plastic bag from behind the counter somewhere.

Flora watched on in silence, fiddling with the zip on her purse anxiously. She realised she should count her money out and have it ready, so she opened her purse, though unfortunately a little too abruptly and sent coins spilling out all over the floor. If it were possible for one to ask God the exact moment to end one’s life, for Flora it would have been that moment. The coins rolled and bounced all over the linoleum floor.

“Oh!” Flora exclaimed, dipping down on her heels to stop and catch them. She would rather have run out of the shop altogether and have never come back.

The shop boy quickly moved from around the counter to assist, bending down next to her. He smiled as he collected up the rouge fifty and twenty pence coins, looking at her even though she was half hiding behind her hair and avoiding his eye, embarrassed beyond belief.

“I’m so sorry,” she said in a small, high voice.

“Aye, no worries, love. I got ‘em, no bother,” he said, holding his fist out to drop the coins back into her purse.

Flora squeaked out a “thank you,” and stood up when all her coins had been restored to their rightful place. The shop boy stood up with her, his eyes never leaving her face. He was tall, she noticed. Taller than Sirius — maybe as tall as Regulus. She put the last part out of her mind quickly, not wanting to think about him right now.

“How…how much for?” She waved her hand over the bag of shopping in a vague way.

“Oh, ah,” he went back around the counter to look at the till. “It’ll be one pound fifty-eight.”

Flora couldn’t face standing there, counting exact change, so she just handed him two pound coins and waited for her change.

“There you go, forty-two pence change,” he said, holding the coins and a small paper receipt between his fingers. They touched her palm as he dropped the coins into it.

“Thanks,” Flora mumbled. Her cheeks were still burning with mortification as she hurriedly put her change and receipt away.

“You Welsh?” He asked suddenly.

Flora blinked, looking at him in blank surprise. “Uh, yes… I am.”

He smiled warmly. “Thought so. I can hear it, your accent,” he said casually. “What part of Wales are you from?”

“North,” she replied, “Anglesey.”

“I used to go on holiday there with my mum and dad,” he nodded with recognition. “It’s nice.”

“Are you…are you Scottish?” Flora ventured, beginning to feel slightly more at ease.

“Aye, Edinburgh,” he replied. “You ever been?”

Flora shook her head. “I’ve never been anywhere. Except here. London… obviously.”

He smiled again, endeared by her. “What’s your name?”

“Flora.”

“That’s pretty,” he said, his eyes fixed admirably on her face. “I’m Mark. Do you…do you live near here? Just I’ve seen you before.”

“I’m just visiting,” Flora felt herself blushing again, thrilled that he’d remembered her after all. “I’m staying with my brother and his friend.”

“You visiting long?”

She shrugged truthfully. “As long as I want, I suppose.”

An elderly woman came into the shop at that moment and at once requested Mark’s assistance with her shopping list. Flora took that as her cue to leave, somewhat disappointed their conversation had been cut short. Mark flashed a smile at her one last time. “See you later, Flora.”

See you later. Flora mulled over this as she walked back to the flat, wondering whether he really meant ‘see you later’ or just ‘see you later’ as a generality. She climbed the stairs, hardly noticing the effort of them even by the time she’d reached the sixth flight, and returned to her brother’s flat. Remus didn’t ask why she was acting so peculiar; he didn’t understand girls and didn’t like to interfere with the things he sensed were strictly feminine. Flora puzzled him often enough to know it wasn’t worth asking.

But Flora felt optimism in her heart. For the first time in years, she felt happy.

London was oddly beautiful in autumn. Every morning a heavy mist hung around the windows like a sheer curtain; it was always chilly first thing, and Flora liked nothing more than to curl up under her thick duvet and listen to the pigeons on the garret while the city came awake. The sound of people and cars below were ever-present, unceasing, but Flora hardly noticed it anymore. She was comfortable in her makeshift sofa-bed; it was perhaps more comfortable than her own bed at home. She could just sink into the thick cushions.

Though Flora was only allowed to leave when it suited Remus, she was able to enjoy the city as it grew colder and wetter, often visiting bookshops and galleries. She visited the corner shop every other day to see Mark, becoming increasingly friendly with him as she stayed to stand and talk whenever there were no customers. It was nice speaking to someone ‘normal,’ as she considered it. Mark was a muggle, the same as her, and had no condescending airs about him. The shop was his dad’s shop, and he worked most evenings. He was twenty years old and wanted to be a mechanic, as he liked fixing cars. He was ticking every Sirius-box in Flora’s head—Sirius had a motorbike, something which he often tinkered with any spare moment he had. Mark also had a motorbike. Nobody, besides Sirius himself, was more perfect in Flora’s eyes.

But she still thought of Regulus. When she couldn’t sleep at night, sometimes from listening to the gentle creaks coming from Sirius’ and Remus’ bedroom, she thought of Regulus.

She didn’t tell Sirius or Remus about Mark. In particular, she didn’t want Remus to know because she knew he would start asking questions and watching her more closely than he already did. In turn, she watched Sirius and Remus just as closely, watching for any telling look between them, but found nothing that could settle her doubts with any certainty.

She’d heard creaks at night in their room; through the day, they apparently had a bed each, but she didn’t doubt this was for show and that at night it was restored to one bed. Their voices always sounded to be in the same part of the room. She’d heard them speaking in hushed whispers in the bathroom late one evening, some hours after she’d fallen asleep; the light from the bathroom had woken her, as it was directly across from the living room and she hadn’t closed the door to the hallway. They had just come back from an Order meeting. She couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but their tones were grim, serious. She heard a small clatter in the bathroom sink, Sirius cursing, and Remus shushing him. They closed the door properly and Flora soon drifted off back to sleep.

October drew on until soon she’d been in London just short of two weeks and there was only one day before Halloween. Sirius brought some pumpkins home with the bright suggestion of sitting together and carving them.

“Why are there four pumpkins?” Remus frowned when Sirius put them down on the table. Flora came over to look, tracing her fingers over the grooves of the smallest pumpkin.

Sirius looked a little sheepish. “Well, I just thought… well, maybe, if it’s alright… Reg could join us on Halloween.”

Remus looked at Sirius dumbly for a moment and Flora lifted her eyes in surprise, and if she was honest, a little, tiny bit of joy. Sirius, using the short pause to his benefit, continued, “Please, he just seems really down lately. What’s the harm in having him here for one night?”

“The harm?” Remus repeated incredulously, clearly averse to the idea. “I brought Flora here to get away from him. And you want to bring him here? And where’s he going to sleep?”

Sirius looked to Flora, a little unsure. “Would you be opposed to him sleeping on the floor next to you for one night?”

Flora shrugged, knowing her opinion didn’t really seem to matter much in these things. Sirius, she knew, had already won his plea.

“He loves Halloween and he’s all by himself,” Sirius went on imploringly to Remus. “And I think he’s willing to talk… you know, about what happened to him. We could bring him to the meeting.”

“Why does he have to stay though?” Remus demanded.

“Just one night, Moony. That’s all. With everything that happened to him, I don’t like to leave him alone.”

Flora had expected, and rather hoped, Remus to flat-out say no, but he appeared to be considering. She forgot sometimes that Regulus was a valuable asset to the war and not just some moody boy hiding with her, something which Remus appeared to have forgotten until now as well. Consequently, though with heavy reluctance, Remus agreed to the idea.

Regulus remained stoic and impassive when Sirius told him the plan that same evening, but inwardly he was elated. He had a chance to see Flora again, a chance (he hoped) to redeem himself. Flora, for her part, didn’t feel ready to face Regulus yet, even it was just for a short time. The truth was, she was embarrassed. The things he’d written in that outrageous letter came to her more often than she cared to admit. In a general way, too, she thought often of Regulus. Even with Mark on her mind, and even with Sirius right in front of her, Regulus still managed to worm his way into her deepest thoughts. She was starting to miss him, loath as she was to admit it. She should despise him, and yet could not. The very complexity of her feelings for Regulus stirred an uncomfortable realisation in her: she wanted to see him.

She went down to the shop that evening to “buy more toothpaste.” As she’d hoped, Mark was alone in the shop flipping through a music magazine called The Face. He smiled brightly when he saw her and put his magazine aside.

“Eh, I was hoping to see you,” he said at once.

Flora flushed and looked at him questioningly with a small, shy smile. “What for?”

“You want to go out on Halloween?”

Flora faltered. “I don’t have a costume.”

Mark reached down behind the counter and pulled out two sets of black and white cream makeup. He passed one to Flora. “Just wear a black dress an’ put some o’ this on.”

“It does sound fun,” Flora began, hesitating, a small frown on her face.

Mark waited, his own hope wavering a little. “But?”

“It’s just… my brother,” Flora admitted with trepidation. “I don’t think he’d let me go.”

“Well, you’re eighteen, aren’t you?” Mark leaned forward on the counter, resting on his elbows. “Wait… you are, aren’t you?” He repeated, this time with a different meaning entirely.

“Yes, I’m eighteen,” Flora replied a little snippily.

He smiled and laughed softly. “Just makin’ sure. So then, he can’t go telling you where you can and can’t go, can ‘e?”

“He’s really protective,” Flora grumbled. “He’d stop me going.”

“Then don’t tell him,” he grinned, “Slip out without him knowing, yeah?”

“He’d go mental,” Flora continued to fret. She glanced aside like she expected Remus to appear out of thin air and reprimand her—which, as he was a wizard, was a very real possibility.

“Not if he doesn’t know. It’ll be late when we go anyway.”

“Where is it we’re going?”

“Thought we’d go to a club in Soho.”

Flora had always wanted to visit Soho, but it was one place firmly off-limits to her. The temptation, in spite of the risk, was too much to resist. “I suppose maybe…” she replied thoughtfully, “If we go quite late, I could sneak out.”

“Great, it’s a date then,” Mark grinned.

Flora had no idea how it was going to happen, but her determination was strong enough to make it happen.

❦

Her reunion with Regulus was awkward. They regarded one another from a distance at first, briefly locking eyes from across the room. Flora looked back down at the book she was trying to read as he came in with Sirius, pointedly ignoring him, though her heart was beating a little faster.

She bided her time as the evening drew on. Remus, Sirius and Regulus left for their meeting with the Order, which gave her plenty of time to get ready. She didn’t have much choice in way of clothing; all her party dresses were at home in Wales. However, she had the good fortune to have recently bought a dress while out shopping: a black velvet dress with long bell sleeves. Short, again. She would wear it with black tights and knee boots. She then planned to do her face white and her eyes blackened with the cream makeup kit Mark had given her. She had everything planned and stowed away when they came back.

Remus looked tense when he returned a few hours later, and Regulus looked oddly elated. She soon found out why when he brought her a cup of tea. She was watching television and not looking at him. It took her a moment to notice the mug was floating in midair next to her, and he was holding a wand with a look of triumph on his face.

“You got your wand back?” Flora sat up in surprise, blinking in wonder.

“Yes,” he replied.

A little more careful than necessary, she took the cup and held it to her breast like she was afraid it would float away. Regulus smirked and dropped down beside her on the sofa, stretching out lazily. His knee touched hers. He held his wand in front of his eyes, twirling it between his fingers until it started to irritate Flora a little.

“If you don’t stop that, I’ll take it and personally make sure you never see it again.”

“You’ll never have to wash the dishes by hand again,” he said, ignoring her empty threat. “Or make beds, or—”

“Yes, alright,” she huffed. “Be quiet. I’m trying to watch telly.”

“So, really, you should come back,” he drawled on.

Flora cast him a look. “Why? So you can turn me into a toad?”

“You were in support of me getting my wand back, as I recall,” he replied.

Flora opened her mouth to retort, but Sirius interrupted. He was carrying two pumpkins, while Remus carried the other two. He looked happier than Remus, who glumly flanked him like he was being forced to participate (which he probably was). Flora didn’t particularly want to smell like pumpkin when she went to meet Mark, but she had no choice but to sit at the dining table and join in with the pumpkin carving. Regulus sat next to her; his presence was warm, intimate. He kept stealing glances at her, glances which Flora met several times and Regulus didn’t break. He obviously wanted her to know he was looking at her, and it made her stomach squirm pleasantly.

“I, uh, tidied your garden up,” Regulus said to her while Sirius and Remus talked between themselves. They were drinking beer, which Flora was privately pleased about. It meant the Order meeting had been good, on one hand; on the other, it meant they would be too drunk and sleepy to notice Flora sneaking off. Soon Sirius would bring out the fire whiskey.

Flora lifted her eyes to look at Regulus, her brow furrowing. “Tidied how?”

He shrugged. He was carving what looked like two very tall, pointed ears into his pumpkin. His movements, as always, were precise and elegant. Flora, not all that inventive with pumpkin carving, was keeping to the traditional triangle-eyes-nose-and-mouth and struggling with it.

“The leaves,” he said, “I removed them from the flowerbeds and pulled up some weeds.”

“They better have been weeds,” Flora replied with a hint of warning in her tone.

“I think they were.”

“Oh, bloody hell.”

His lips cracked up into a smile. She wasn’t angry with him, and she was biting back a smirk, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.

“You’re not all that talented when it comes to pumpkin carving, are you?” He said.

“There’s nothing wrong with my pumpkin, thank you very much,” she looked again at his pumpkin. “What’s yours meant to be anyway? A rabbit?”

“A kneazle, actually.”

“Oh, Sirius said you liked kneazles.”

Regulus paused. “Did he?”

“What was your toy kneazle called?”

Regulus’ hand stopped for a moment, then resumed cutting out the finer points of the ears, intent on his work. Flora didn’t think he was going to reply, until finally, in a low voice he answered, “Tufty.”

Chapter Text

Eighteen 

❦

Flora wasn’t sure how she was going to get around Regulus that evening. Sirius and Remus went to bed at around nine o’clock, both a little drunk and tired, leaving her and Regulus in the living room. Sirius had transfigured a pillow into a low mattress, which was presently laid in front of the fireplace some several feet away from Flora’s sofa-bed. It was complete with duvet and cushions, although Flora thought it didn’t look very comfortable, not compared to her bed. Remus gave Regulus a very stern, somewhat slurred, talking to before he went off with Sirius, a clear warning to stay away from his sister or else.

Regulus, sitting upright and cross-legged on his mattress, clearly had no intention of going to sleep anytime soon. If Flora had any hope of getting out, Regulus would have to be privy to her secret. He watched her curiously as she began to fumble around with an obvious purpose, pulling out her dress and shoes from under the sofa; his lips were poised with a question.

“I’m going out and no, you are not coming,” she said before he could speak.

He unfolded his long legs and got up. “Going out where?”

“None of your business.”

“I think it is my business,” he said, drawing himself up. “I’ve promised your brother and the Order to protect you."

Flora blinked, staring at him. She then started to laugh. “Protect me?”

“Yes,” he narrowed his eyes on her. “When you’re back in Wales, it’s my job to—”

“Well I’m not in Wales, am I?”

“That’s not the point!”

“Shush!” She hissed, glaring at him.

He scowled, continuing in a lower voice. “And you’re most certainly not allowed to go gallivanting around town like some common trollop—”

“Excuse me?” Flora cut him off, her eyes flashing angrily. She spoke in a soft tone, but her voice was no less furious. “Just who do you think you are? I’ve heard it all from Remus, but you have no right to tell me what to do or where I can go!”

“I do now,” he retorted.

“I’m going and you’re not going to stop me.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” he answered simply. Frankly, he was enticed by the idea and not against it by principle.

“You absolutely are not,” Flora snapped back. “I don’t care what silly job they gave you to make you feel important, you’re still a fugitive and it would more dangerous for you than me to step foot outside that door.”

“It’s Halloween,” he replied.

“I don’t care if it’s Easter.”

He rolled his eyes. “I mean,” he said a little more slowly, “It’s Halloween. I can disguise myself.”

“Are you mad?” Flora glared, resolutely shaking her head. “That is an unbelievably stupid idea.”

“You can’t go alone,” he frowned.

“I’m not going alone,” she folded her arms. “I’m going with Mark.”

Regulus faltered, clearly not expecting this. His brow darkened with a flurry of unpleasant emotions.

“Who’s Mark?” He demanded coolly.

“My friend.”

“You don’t have any friends,” he rightly pointed out, which only caused Flora’s irritation to flare.

“I do have friends,” she shot back. “And Mark is one of them.”

Regulus folded his arms, mirroring her. “You never mentioned this friend before,” he said curtly.

“Because I only met him a week ago.”

“Only a week?” He scoffed. “And you’re meeting him in the middle of the night? His intentions must be very honourable, I’m sure,” he said cuttingly. 

Flora was about to retort when a sound from her brother’s room made her stop. She and Regulus froze, standing as still as statues as they waited, listening anxiously. It was only Sirius or Remus using the bathroom; the bedroom door closed a minute later. Flora and Regulus looked at one another again.

“I’m coming with you or I’ll tell your brother,” Regulus said finally, taking a small step closer.

“Oh, you are so mature,” Flora snapped back sarcastically.

“I mean it,” he replied.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Regulus met her angry gaze, unblinking, his eyes never leaving hers. The knowledge she was going out in the middle of London with a guy she had just met had ignited a possessive, protective feeling within him—not to mention he was wildly jealous. He certainly wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. He meant what he said and Flora knew it.

“Yes, I would,” he said lowly. “Don’t test me, Flora.”

She knew he wasn’t bluffing. She knew with absolute certainty that he would go running to Remus and ruin everything.

“You’re such an arsehole, you know that?” Flora hissed.

He couldn’t help but smirk, shrugging. “I know.”

There was really no point in arguing with him. Flora’s irritation was increasing every moment and she had less than an hour to get ready. She was annoyed with herself, giving in like this to him; not to mention it was stupidly reckless. But Death Eaters weren’t likely to be frequenting the Soho club scene, Regulus pointed out, and he had his wand. And if Remus and Sirius found out? Regulus was confident they wouldn’t know a thing. He knew the best silencing charms to ensure a smooth, quiet exit from the flat and assured her he could get them back in again undetected. He’d snuck out plenty of times around Hogwarts, and from his own home at Grimmauld Place once or twice — an impressive accomplishment in itself, he wanted her to know, to even reach the doorstep as there were so many traps and eyes in that house.

“Turn around,” she ordered him as she picked up her dress to change. She was in her pyjamas.

Regulus sighed and turned so his back was to her. Flora changed as quickly as she could, putting her dress on first; he turned his head slightly as he heard her curse and stumble into the arm of the sofa. She was was hopping around trying to pull her tights on. He smirked and Flora met his eye, which fleetingly dropped to the exposed top of her thigh.

“I said turn around!” She hissed under her breath.

“I wasn’t looking,” he replied smoothly, facing the wall again.

“You were,” she grumbled back, adjusting her dress and pulling the ends of her hair out of the collar.

“You’d never get out of the flat without me,” he said. “You don’t know the meaning of quiet.”

“And obviously you don’t know the meaning of quiet either, or you’d have shut up ages ago.”

He rolled his eyes, responding impatiently. “Can I turn around now?”

“Yes,” she answered tersely.

He turned and settled his eyes on her, looking her up and down with a frown. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled by how short your skirts are.”

“And I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” she replied dismissively, moving to her handbag to fish out the Halloween makeup. “I’m going to put this on, but I’ll do yours first.”

Regulus sat back down on his makeshift mattress, looking at her warily as she came towards him with the makeup. She sat down in front of him on the floor and fumbled with the plastic packaging, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“You’re not putting that rubbish on me,” he said at once when he realised her intention.

“You want to be spotted by your old mates?” Flora replied, raising an eyebrow.

Regulus huffed, clearly less than thrilled about the idea of wearing makeup. But then he was less thrilled by the idea of being seen by his former Death Eater associates, so he relented to Flora’s ministrations. She began to load a small sponge up with white cream makeup and brought it to his cheek.

“This probably won’t make any difference, you’re already so pale,” Flora muttered as she began to dab and smooth the cream onto his face. “A mask would be better.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He stayed still, not sure where to look while she was so intensely focused on his face. She touched him lightly at first, hesitant to let her hand rest on his face as she worked; she was acutely aware of how close they were, close enough to properly see how long his eyelashes were, the freckles on his nose and cheeks, the very soft stubble on his chin and upper lip. He was so pretty and Flora found herself blushing in spite of herself. He looked at her and Flora returned his gaze, overwhelmed by the beauty of a face which had treated her with such derision and scorn.

Regulus hadn’t meant to hold her gaze; it was accidental, when Flora had looked down to load the sponge with more makeup, and then lifted her eyes the moment he looked at her. He studied her face with the same level of preoccupation, admiring the shape of her small, slightly upturned nose, her hazel eyes. She suddenly grabbed his chin. Regulus’ heart jumped, thinking wildly she was going to kiss him, but it was just to steady his face while she finished applying the white makeup. She’d left the space around his eyes uncovered and now swapped to the black cream to fill it in.

“Close your eyes,” she instructed.

He obeyed without a word, but then flinched and scrunched his eyes up as she began to press the sponge onto his eyelid.

“Oh my god, hold still,” Flora sighed, grabbing his chin again as she grew frustrated with his dramatic flinching.

“You’re going to poke my eye out,” he complained.

“Not if you hold still,” Flora replied with a huff, waiting for him to stop his squirming. When he was still again, she slowly brought the sponge back to his eyelid just as he opened his eye to see what she was doing.

“Ow!” He cried out loudly. The sponge went straight into the corner of his eye.

Flora’s eyes widened, “Shush!”

Regulus rubbed furiously at his eye, which was red and rapidly tearing up. Flora stayed very still, alert, listening for any sound from her brother’s room. When she was sure nobody had woken up or heard them, she turned her attention back to Regulus with a deep frown. He was cursing under his breath, muttering and hissing in pain.

“You are such a baby. Stop rubbing it, you’ll only make it worse,” Flora grabbed his hand and pulled it away.

He glared at her, half squinting. “Bloody hell, that hurts!”

“Well it’s not supposed to go in your eye,” Flora snapped back in a low voice. “I told you to keep your eyes closed.”

Regulus looked at her with a flicker of irritation, though it was hard to tell if it was due to the pain or her bossy tone. When she attempted to bring the makeup sponge to his eye again, he drew back and dodged her.

“Let me do it,” he said.

“Fine,” Flora chucked the sponge at him.

Her irritation with him was growing by the second. She was half amazed when they were both finally ready some fifteen minutes later, looking like poor imitations of skeletons. Neither was too confident that it was a foolproof disguise, as Regulus had very distinct features, but it would at least take a second glance to recognise him. Regulus wore the clothes he was already wearing, which happened to be black, and his long woollen coat. Flora put on Remus’ leather jacket.

“It’s a big improvement, you know,” Flora said to him when they were halfway down the stairs of the building. “The makeup.”

Regulus glared and shoved his hands into his pockets as he followed her. He had been able to silence the doors as they crept out, preventing them from creaking, and cast a charm around them to muffle any sound their feet might make. Nevertheless, Flora didn’t put her boots on until they were outside on the wet street. The chill in the air was sharp and it smelled of rain and chimney smoke. Flora had arranged to meet Mark on the corner by the shop and had been dreading it ever since Regulus inserted himself into the situation, unsure of how to explain his presence or who he was. It was too late to go back now and she was somewhat resigned to the fact this was going to be an incredibly awkward night.

“Don’t you fucking dare be rude to Mark,” Flora warned him before they took a single step.

“Why would I be rude to your precious Mark?” Regulus shot back sarcastically. “He’s a muggle, I assume?”

“Yes, he is,” she replied, her voice taking on a hard edge, “So don’t say anything weird and don’t be rude. You’ve already spoilt this by making me bring you.”

“I have to look after y—”

“I don’t need looking after, you prick,” she began to walk quickly, pulling Remus’ jacket around herself for warmth. “You’re just doing this out of spite.”

Regulus scoffed and followed her, not more than one step behind. “That’s not true,” he insisted, though he knew this was a bare-faced lie. He couldn’t stand the thought of her with some other boy, least of all a muggle.

Mark was leaning against the wall of the shop, smoking a cigarette, when he spotted Flora. He was wearing similar ghoulish makeup which, in spite of, Flora could see the confusion on his face as she approached with Regulus in tow. He pushed himself off the wall and walked forward to meet her, his eyes questioning, but too polite to ask outright who this unexpected addition was.

“Hey,” he said, his gaze flickering from Flora to Regulus and back again, clearly perplexed by this addition to the duo. “You…brought a friend?” He queried carefully, nodding to Regulus in vague greeting. He dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out on the pavement with his foot. Regulus eyed Mark dubiously.

Flora shifted uncomfortably, trying to speak casually in an effort to downplay how mortified she really was. “This is Regulus,” she said, drawing back so Mark and Regulus could see one another without her between them.

“Regulus?” Mark repeated. “Fancy name.”

Flora realised at that moment just how peculiar the name was and panicked. “He’s English,” she said quickly.

Regulus met Mark’s gaze with a cold, intense stare, silently sizing him up. He could tell that Mark was not pleased with the situation and felt a pang of satisfaction at the thought of making him uncomfortable, possibly even threatened.

“Alright?” Mark nodded at Regulus, extending his hand politely. Flora immediately shot Regulus a look, silently pleading with him to be nice.

Regulus didn’t move at first, his eyes flickering from Mark’s extended hand to his face, a hint of sneer on his lips. He’d caught Flora’s pained expression, begging him to be polite and spare her the embarrassment, and so after a moment of deliberate hesitation he begrudgingly reached out and shook Mark’s hand, his grip firm.

“Hello,” he said smoothly. His upper-class accent, even from this singular word, felt suddenly more conspicuous than Flora had noticed before. Mark eyed him curiously, as though trying to decipher what kind of relationship he had with Flora.

“So,” Mark said finally, smiling uncertainly at Flora, “We going to the club then?”

“Yes,” Flora said at once, sidling up to him, giving him an apologetic look. Regulus moved to stand on the other side of her so as not to be behind them.

“We’ll have to get the Tube from Bethnal Green,” Mark said as they began to walk.

Flora nodded, though in truth she was beginning to feel the onset of a mild panic attack as she realised what a stupid idea this was. She glanced sideways at Regulus, but he didn’t seem at all concerned; he glanced back at her, sensing her unease somehow, but his stoic expression betrayed nothing of his own thoughts. In fact, as Mark continued to talk about their journey to the Tube, Regulus almost smirked, scoffing under his breath. “Tube,” he repeated, the disdain clear in his voice. The idea that a pureblood wizard like himself, accustomed to the swift and magical methods of transportation, being relegated to using muggle transport was bitterly humorous to him.

Flora shot him a dark look. She felt rather like a person who had an incessant nuisance sitting on their shoulder, one which she couldn’t fully acknowledge for risk of looking absolutely insane. Mark glanced at them. He hadn’t heard Regulus’s comment, but he sensed the animosity in him and immediately disliked the boy, dismissing him as a posh prick— a fair observation, Flora would’ve agreed.

It was a short walk to the station. Flora wished it had been longer, as she was doing mental gymnastics thinking how to drag a clueless wizard through the station without him being weird and not lose him in the process. She didn’t know if Regulus had ever been on the London Underground before, but this question was answered quickly when it came to passing the turnstiles. Mark, being regrettably gentlemanly, allowed Flora to pass through first. She looked back at Regulus, hoping he was paying attention as she inserted her ticket, and passed through the barrier. Then Mark went through, leaving Regulus standing there in confusion.

“Put your ticket in the slot,” Flora quickly moved back to the barrier, leaning over.

“Where?” Regulus scowled.

“There,” she pointed to said slot impatiently.

Regulus hesitantly brought his ticket to the machine slot, unsure of how the mechanism worked, then visibly jumped when it snatched his ticket from his hand.

“Now walk through the gate,” Flora practically begged, aware that Mark was watching on in bemusement. She cast an apologetic look at him as Regulus shoved his way through the turning metal gate. “He’s never done this before…” she mumbled aside.

“I can tell,” Mark replied, not impolitely, but with a tone that felt vaguely passive-aggressive. Flora wanted to explain why she’d brought Regulus along, but was struggling to think of a plausible reason. She didn’t want to say that he’d blackmailed her into bringing him.

The next hurdle was the escalator to take them down to the platform. Flora drew back as Mark stepped on and she grabbed Regulus sharply by the elbow as she saw him staring at it warily. “Just step onto it,” she said in a low voice.

“It’s moving.”

“You have moving stairs at Hogwarts, it’s no different.”

“Well, actually, it is,” he frowned. “They only move once you’re standing on them. And they don’t move the way this is moving.”

“I’ll push you down them if you don’t move right now,” Flora hissed. “You wanted to come.”

He was gripping the handrail, blocking a small queue of people who were fast approaching behind them. The regular stairs, the ones which didn’t move, had a barrier across them saying Out of Order because the floor tiles were broken. Some other young people, dressed up as witches and devils, pushed past them. Regulus stared after them. When he still didn’t step forward, Flora grabbed his arm and forced him to step on with her. He gripped the handrail so tightly his knuckles turned white, his eyes fixed disconcertedly on the moving stairs under his feet. Mark was down already, leaning against the railing with ease, watching them resignedly.

“You’re never coming anywhere with me again,” Flora muttered scathingly. But when she looked at him again, she saw how genuinely confused and nervous he was, and at once her anger faded to sympathy.

“Look, you wanted to come,” she repeated with a heavy sigh.

Regulus straightened up, trying to look dignified, though he still gripped the hand rail for dear life. “I am just not accustomed to your stupid muggle things,” he replied snippily.

Her sympathy for him wavered at this comment. She was hardly surprised by the things he said anymore, so she chose to ignore him. She grabbed him by the crook of the arm as they approached the bottom of the escalator, telling him exactly when to step off; he stumbled a little and scowled. Flora couldn’t bear to look at Mark, who had said little since they’d arrived, and was glad of the paint on her face to hide how embarrassed she really was.

When they waited on the platform, Flora had to pull Regulus back as he wandered too close to the edge. He looked exceedingly unnerved the next minute when the train rushed in, blowing his hair and clothes with the force of a gale wind. He certainly didn’t enjoy the train journey either as it rattled down the tracks to Tottenham Court Road, some twelve stops away. He sat next to Flora before Mark could, who was left to stand and hold the railing. The worst thing was that Regulus looked rather smug about it. Flora was despairing, almost wanting to go home, but held hope she could salvage the situation with Mark.

She made her displeasure with Regulus known when they got off the train and made it to the street above — luckily, the normal stairs were in order and Regulus didn’t have to go up the escalator. Flora wasn’t sure he’d have managed it. She quickly linked up her arm with Mark’s arm, snubbing Regulus, and looked at the former sweetly. “Which club are we going to?” She asked.

“I dunno, really,” Mark smiled back, which was a great relief to her. “Thought we might jus’ look around and see what looks interesting.”

It all looked interesting. Flora was as amazed as Regulus at the sheer amount of sex suddenly under their noses—the sex shops, topless bars, peep shows, the escorts on corners and drag queens standing in doorways. Everything was lit up, bright. Neither Flora nor Regulus had ever seen so many lights, and the flamboyancy of the lights was as prominent in the people walking around them.

“You going to tell me why you’ve brought him?” Mark said quietly, leaning in closer to Flora as they walked. Regulus was a few steps behind to the left of Flora, still within her peripheral vision.  “How do you even know him?”

Flora deliberated, for she still had not come up with a plausible excuse to explain him away. Honesty, she decided, was the best option. “My brother has a flatmate,” she began, “And that flatmate has a brother, who is Regulus. He’s just visiting. Regulus threatened to tell my brother if I didn’t bring him.”

Mark frowned. “So, he just wanted to come out? Can’t we ditch him somewhere an—”

“No!” Flora said at once, her eyes widening slightly. Mark blinked, taken aback by her abruptness. Flora quickly composed herself. “No, we can’t do that. He has to stay with me.”

Mark’s mouth set into a thin line, his brow furrowing a little with annoyance. “Why?”

“Because…” Flora felt that panic creeping up her again, a panic which took over her brain and made her blurt out, “Because he has a medical condition.”

Mark clearly hadn’t expected this answer and looked even more perplexed. “Medical condition?” He repeated incredulously, “What kind of medical condition?”

She’d done it now and couldn’t find a way to backpedal. Regulus was still visible in the corner of her eye, close at her arm, but too distracted with everything around him to overhear the outrageous lies which came out of Flora’s mouth next—

“He has a condition called Chronic Disorientation Syndrome,” Flora replied, hardly knowing where the words were coming from. But she couldn’t stop. “CDS for short. It’s quite rare. It’s a… a neurological disorder that makes it hard for him to navigate unfamiliar places and situations. Something to do with his brain being, uh, out of sync with the environment… He could wander off and get hit by a car if I don’t keep an eye on him.”

Mark looked skeptical, his frown deepening as Flora explained. “Chronic Disorientation Syndrome?” He repeated slowly.

“Mhm,” Flora nodded quickly.

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s really rare.”

“Are you sure he’s not just a bit thick?” Mark replied with a smirk. “You’re having me on, aren’t you?”

“I am not!” Flora replied, indignant, as though Regulus really did have a serious medical condition she had a duty to defend. “He’s not thick, and he can’t help it. Remember he had trouble with the escalator, and with the ticket machine? That’s because of his condition.”

Mark’s grin widened at her indignation. He glanced back at Regulus, who did indeed look terribly confused by his surroundings and was currently very unaware of the conversation taking place about him.

“Poor bloke.”

They managed to find a club which seemed less unsavoury than the rest. It looked to be a goth club and was milling with people in fishnets and very heavy, dramatic makeup. They checked-in their coats and went to the bar to order drinks, Regulus still in tow and looking suddenly like he regretted coming out when he noticed how sticky the floor was. He frowned, cringing at the sheer volume of the place, and leaned in to Flora’s ear.

“It’s loud!” He said.

Flora rolled her eyes and shrugged, as if to say what do you want me to do about it? She then leaned in to shout into his ear, “What do you want to drink?”

Regulus looked across at the bar, studying the array of bottles on display, but didn’t recognise anything he would like. “I don’t know,” he shouted back.

Flora waved a hand dismissively, an action to indicate she would choose something. She leaned in to Mark, who asked her the same question, and she shoved a bank note into his hand. “Rum and coke. Get Regulus one too.”

Mark pushed the money back into her hand. “I’ll get them,” he replied.

“But Regulus too—”

“Consider it charity for his condition,” Mark teased. “You want a single or double?”

“Double.”

He nodded and moved away to get closer to the bar, leaving Flora to stand with Regulus, who was eyeing everybody distrustfully. He looked particularly disgruntled when a trio wearing green makeup and pointy hats passed by. Regulus leaned in towards her again, “Are those muggles meant to be dressed up as witches?”

Flora was standing with her arms folded and glanced sidelong at Regulus. “Yes.”

“Ridiculous.”

“What?”

“I said it’s ridiculous,” he repeated a little louder.

“You’re ridiculous.”

He eyed her for a moment, his gaze flickering up and down, until Flora also turned her head to look at him. She frowned questioningly, raising an eyebrow, but Regulus just smirked and looked away. 

"What?" Flora demanded. 

"What?" he echoed. 

"Why are you looking at me?"

"Am I not allowed to look at you?" 

He edged a little closer to her until his elbow nudged her arm slightly. He inclined his head in towards her, letting the curls of his hair fall into his eyes. "You should ditch the muggle boy," he said. 

Flora gave him a sharp look, blushing. "Excuse me?"

"Ditch him. Let's go somewhere else."

"Mark is my date, not you."

Flora felt her colour increasing, though she tried to keep her voice unaffected. The way he was looking at her through his dark eyelashes made her feel suddenly weak. 

Regulus snorted softly. "You call this a date? I wouldn't dream of bringing a woman here. I've never seen anything so uncivilised."

Mark came back balancing three drinks in his hands. Flora took hers and Regulus’s, which she handed to him quickly; he made very direct eye contact with her as she handed him his drink before taking a sip. They moved across the room and crowd, Flora pulling Regulus along by the sleeve, until they found an empty booth to sit in. Flora was sandwiched between Mark and Regulus, but the conversation between them excluded Regulus. Presently, he didn’t seem bothered, as he was so preoccupied taking in the sights around him. He’d never seen this type of dancing, if it could be called dancing at all, and was bewildered and fascinated by the makeup, costumes and hairstyles some of these muggles were wearing. However, Flora was acutely aware of how close he was to her. He'd spread himself lazily in his seat with his knee touching hers, and occasionally their hands or wrists brushed when they reached for their drinks. 

At one point, he tapped her arm and leaned in close to her, resting his hand on her knee. "What are you two talking about?" he asked.

Flora felt her stomach jolt at the warm contact. She didn't look down, but could feel the curve of his palm and the way his long fingers had spread and curled around her knee. She struggled to answer for a moment, distracted as she was by both his hand and the sudden proximity of his beautiful face. 

"Uh, muggle stuff," she said in a confused rush. Her face was burning by how delighted she was to feel him touch her like this. As fleetingly as it happened, he withdrew his hand to pick up his drink, looking at her through half-closed eyes as he sipped the last of his rum and coke. Flora stared stupidly. 

He put his empty glass down, sat back, and looked at her with that infuriating little smirk. Frowning, Flora quickly downed the rest of her drink and turned to Mark. "Let's dance."

Regulus watched her stand up with Mark, but didn't move. Flora leaned towards him. He could smell her perfume, causing his mind to briefly flicker back to his more guilty memories. Her hair, as it fell forward, tickled his neck.

“You stay here,” she said, cupping her mouth to his ear. “I’m going to dance with Mark. Don’t go anywhere.”

Regulus's brow furrowed. "And leave me sitting here alone?"

Flora suspected he probably wouldn’t be sitting alone for very long once she moved away, but she didn’t voice this. Instead she tried to ease him off, replying, “Maybe you'll find a pretty muggle girl to dance with."

"There's already one in front of me."

He'd done it again. Her stomach sank and flipped, like a boat being righted. "Just... don't wander off."

Regulus’s scowl deepened as Flora told him to stay put, but there was little else he could do. He had invited himself, after all. She’d wanted to come out with Mark, not him, and suddenly it stung a lot more than he expected. He watched her as she moved away to join Mark on the dance floor, just several feet in front of him. He turned his eyes downward to his empty drink, tipping it side to side as he watched the melting ice slide around.

Regulus had accepted that he was fond of Flora, that he was attracted to her, but he had not until now realised the extent of the feelings he harboured for her. Every fibre of his being longed to be in Mark’s place. He wanted to be the one to hold her, to make her laugh. Burning hot flames of jealousy lapped against his heart. His reservations about her being a muggle were all but pushed to the very depths of his mind: he suddenly didn’t care. He wanted her.

As Flora had expected, one or two small groups of girls came over to sit with Regulus, trying to flirt, but he as he was not the least forthcoming with conversation, they all swiftly left. She thought suddenly of Mr Darcy at the ball refusing to dance with any of the ladies, and then she wondered if he’d read the book she’d left behind for him to find.

Flora kept her eye on him the whole time and frequently came back to check on him. She brought him more drinks—drinks she paid for her with her own money—and sat with him sometimes for five or ten minutes. The fourth time she came back Mark had excused himself to go to the toilet, and Regulus, slightly buzzed from the alcohol, was losing his patience and self-respect; he immediately saw his chance. He caught hold of the sleeve of her dress, forcing her to pause and look at him as he stood up.

“Dance with me,” he said.

Flora blinked. She couldn’t hear him and pointed to her ear to indicate so. Regulus moved around the table and stood next to her, repeating more loudly, close to her ear, “Dance with me.”

Her surprise was evident when she understood. He stood close to her, holding her gaze, and took hold of her hands before she could respond. He led her across the dance floor, further into the fray of moving bodies, but Flora looked over her shoulder uncertainly.

“Mark will be back soon,” she said. Her throat was beginning to feel sore from shouting to be heard.

“Fuck that tosser,” Regulus took her other hand and pulled her closer to him. “I want to dance with you.”

“We can’t waltz in here, Regulus,” she said teasingly, her lips close to his ear. She drew back to see his face.

He smirked and shook his head, silently conveying that he wasn’t interested in waltzing. They had been swallowed by the mass of people dancing and jerking around them, obscured by the flashing strobe lights above. Flora moved a little further onto the dance floor, swaying and glancing behind her at Regulus as the sultry intro to “Happy House” by Siouxsie and the Banshees began to play. It was much hotter in the centre of the club, and tinged with a distinct stench of sweat and hairspray.

Flora’s eyes shined in the neon lights, almost coyly, invitingly. She spun around slowly, feeling the rhythm of the music, lifting her arms gracefully above her head, bringing them down again, dreamlike, as if in a daze. Regulus moved in closer and caught hold of her hands, moving with her slowly and then snaked his arm around her waist. She felt so small in his arms, it surprised him a little. The beat of the music picked up and Flora began to jump and spin around, pulling Regulus with her. He didn’t know what was going on, but he wasn’t complaining this time. He found himself laughing, beaming with pure joy as he stumbled to match her steps, which had no order or cohesion, and Flora felt a terrible urge to throw her arms around him when she saw the dimples bloom in his cheeks.

She knew Mark probably couldn’t find her, and for that she felt a little guilty, but she had never seen Regulus look so happy and carefree, like nothing had ever troubled him in his life, and she didn’t want to put an end to it just yet. She was enchanted by the sight. She stopped simply to look at him, and when she stopped, Regulus stopped. He was breathing fast, radiant, sweating.

Flora, equally breathless, laughed with him. The music felt suddenly distant. She leaned in to speak again, shouting into his ear, “Can we go outside?”

Regulus nodded, pushing his fingers through his hair. Flora took his hand and pulled him through the crowd to the exit. The chilly nighttime air was refreshing as they stepped outside, meandering along the curb of the pavement for somewhere to sit down. Flora was a little unsteady on her feet and gripped Regulus’ arm as they sank down on the corner some several feet away from the club, directly outside a sex shop and a kebab shop on the other side of the street. The smell of kebab meat permeated the air. She leaned against his arm, resting her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. Her mind flickered back to Mark, wondering where he was and if he was looking for her.

Regulus cleared his throat. “I’m having more fun than I expected,” he said.

“Mmm,” Flora hummed. “I am too… I should probably find Mark though.”

Regulus grimaced. “You don’t actually like him, do you?”

Flora lifted her head slightly to look at him, her face mere inches away from his as she replied, “Yes, I do like him. He’s nice.”

“Is that all?”

“And handsome.”

“Those are terrible reasons,” he shook his head, now also looking at her. His messy curls tickled her forehead and Flora absently lifted her hand to touch them.

“I like him,” she repeated, twirling her fingers through his hair. “And you sound jealous.”

Regulus caught hold of her hand and turned it over, looking at the lines across her palm, at her long fingers. “That’s because I am disgustingly jealous,” he said with frank admission.

A small smile came to Flora’s lips. She watched him study her hand, spreading her fingers more. “Can you tell my fortune?”

“I wasn’t much good at Divination in school,” Regulus admitted.

“Then make something up.”

“I don’t see Mark in your future.”

“Oh, shut up,” she chided playfully, drawing her hand away. Regulus smirked, still holding onto her hand. He pulled it back to him and seemed to be studying it again. Then daringly, he brought her hand to his lips, and softly kissed her palm. He raised his eyes to hers and found she was looking at him, not with shock or revulsion, but with interest.

Her head was still inclined towards his, resting on his shoulder just under his chin. Regulus dropped her hand and moved his own hand to her cheek, touching her skin lightly, rubbing his thumb over the corner of her mouth. Their faces drew closer and he was uncertain enough to expect her to spring back and slap him. But she did neither of these things. Her eyes flickered to his lips and then back to his eyes, and then before Regulus had time to realise it, her lips closed gently upon his. It was small, chaste kiss, and she drew back to look at him after she had done it.

Regulus then encircled one arm around her and brought his other hand to cup her face, bringing his mouth back to hers. Her mouth was hot, soft, and tasted of salt and alcohol. He took in a sharp breath. He felt like his whole body had opened up, as though Flora had stepped in and taken hold of it. Their tongues touched, uncertain at first, then with greater confidence.

Flora had never been kissed before, and this kiss was how she’d hoped it would be, even if it was outside a kebab shop and sex shop on the damp pavement. She felt like she was in a dream. The sounds of drunk people around them faded away. She leaned in closer, burying her hands in his curls, letting out a breath that sounded something like a soft moan.

“Flora,” Regulus murmured her name, breathing hotly into her mouth. “Fuck. I shouldn’t like this…”

Flora blinked, dizzy. Regulus’ mouth hovered over hers, his nose brushing hers, and then he caught her lips again and kissed her deeply. It was better than anything he’d ever imagined. The hand he held on her waist moved lower to her hips, then to the top of her thigh where her dress had ridden up.

A group of drunk men, messing around in the middle of the street, accidentally dropped a glass bottle a few feet away and began to shout and laugh, which momentarily pulled Flora and Regulus apart. Flora looked at the shattered glass near their feet. Her heart was thudding wildly with the very thought that she had just kissed Regulus Black.

“Flora!” Mark’s voice called her from a little way down the street, near the club, and he hurriedly made his way over.

The spell was broken. The real world with all its sights and sounds materialised around them. The sound of Mark’s voice, the drunk men stumbling in the street, the broken glass, burning kebab meat, and the neon lights of the sex shop across the street, all served to remind them where they were.

Flora, her heart still racing, turned her body towards Mark as he rushed over, a mix of guilt and confusion on her face. Regulus, too, was jolted unpleasantly back to reality. He dropped his hand from her leg and stared levelly at Mark.

Mark neared them with a small frown on his face, noting the proximity between Flora and Regulus. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said. His gaze, when it fell upon Regulus, was not cheerful.

Regulus returned the look coolly, though there was a hint of challenge in is eyes as he regarded Mark.

“I needed some air,” Flora stood up, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t find you.”

“You could’ve waited,” Mark grumbled. “I was only gone five minutes.”

“I felt sick,” she lied quickly.

Regulus stood up behind her and rested his hand on her waist, his sharp grey eyes still on Mark. “I came to check that she was alright,” he said.

This seemed to provoke Mark at once. “That’s gallant of you,” he said. “But I thought it was her who was supposed to be looking after you. Or does your condition make you think she’s your date instead of mine?”

Regulus’ eyes narrowed. “Condition?” He frowned. “What condition?”

Flora quickly moved away from him, stepping between them. “See, he doesn’t even remember he has it sometimes. Anyway, I feel much better now. Shall we go back inside and dance?” She said in a rush.

“What are you on about?” Regulus looked at her in confusion.

“Come on,” she led him by the arm. “We’re going back inside to dance.”

“No, hang on a minute,” Regulus drew back. His gaze shot between her and Mark. “What condition?”

“Chronic Disorientation Syndrome, was it? A convenient excuse for memory loss, I think,” Mark put in. “Or perhaps its just a fancy way of saying you can’t tell your head from your arse.”

Flora wished the ground would open and swallow her. Regulus looked at her with a deep, perplexed frown, and Mark regarded her with evident irritation.

She took a steady breath. “Actually, I do feel quite unwell. I think I should go home,” she said weakly, longing for a way out.

“Perhaps that’s a good idea,” Regulus agreed solemnly.

Mark’s initial anger softened slightly when he noticed Flora appeared close to tears. He realised something was going on and that Flora had dealt with it badly. He sighed heavily and pushed his hands through his long hair, nodding. “Alright. I’ll take you home.”

Flora couldn’t refuse the offer if she wanted to keep up her pretence about Regulus, even though she knew it was falling to pieces catastrophically. The three of them walked back to the station in silence, and sat in silence the whole forty-minute ride back. Flora didn’t know whether to blame herself or Regulus anymore.

Mark only spoke when they arrived outside Remus’ and Sirius’ flat. “Right then,” he said quietly. “See you later, Flora.”

He gave her a short, awkward hug and didn’t look at Regulus, who was looking at him darkly. Flora nodded in response. “Bye.”

Flora hurriedly shoved the key into the building’s heavy front door, opened it and closed it, then leaned against the wall and rubbed her face so much she smeared black and white makeup all over her hands. They were standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Regulus stepped towards her, resting his hands on her hips. But Flora pushed him off.

“This is your fault,” she hissed.

“What’s my fault?” He frowned.

“You’ve spoiled everything!” She replied sharply.

His frown deepened. “It sounds like you were the one telling absurd lies,” he pointed out.

“And I wouldn’t have had to if you’d stayed here,” she snapped back. She pushed herself off the wall and moved over to the stairs, then stopped again to take her boots off to avoid making any noise. She stumbled a little and Regulus caught her by the elbow.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere without me or Sirius or your bro—” he started.

“I am not a child!” She exclaimed, half raising her voice and throwing her boots down loudly. She didn’t care anymore. If Remus discovered them, all the better, she thought. She was not going to stand for this any longer.

Regulus’ eyes widened. Though Flora suddenly didn’t seem concerned about being quiet and concealing the fact she’d been out, Regulus most certainly was concerned about hiding this fact for himself. He didn’t want to think of the trouble he would be in with Sirius and the Order.

“Shhh!” He put his hand to her mouth.

Flora shook him off and glared angrily, breathing fast. They both became quiet again, listening anxiously for any sounds above, but the building remained miraculously still. Flora, her gaze still fixed on him, felt her anger begin to melt away until it was replaced by that familiar ache in her heart, that pleasant sinking feeling in her stomach. Moving on impulse, she leaned in and kissed him. Every thought in Regulus’ mind dissipated and he kissed her back fiercely. The anger and desire they had for each other was mingled in this kiss.

“Come back with me tomorrow,” Regulus breathed as he pressed smaller kisses to the corners of her mouth and jawline. “Please come back.”

“No, I can’t,” she protested weakly, her eyes closed, her head tilting to the side as he moved his kisses to her neck.

“Just for a little while,” he pleaded, his voice low and persuasive. “I’ll be better. I’ve been trying to be better.”

In his arms, Flora felt a mixture of desire and wariness. She was also feeling horribly guilty about Mark and knew she owed him an explanation. She shook her head again even as he brought his lips back to hers. Their tongues joined, searching each other's mouths gently.

“No…” she moaned, turning her head aside, breaking the kiss. “You’re too much, and you drive me crazy, and I can’t… I can’t…”

He pulled away slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, his gaze earnest and pleading. Like Flora, most of the makeup on his face was smudged and faded. His hands gripped her hips.

“Please, just come back for…for a week. Just one week,” he said softly. “Or a few days.”

Flora stared back at him, her resolve weakening in her half-inebriated state. “A few days?” She said quietly.

Regulus smiled, hope flourishing in his chest. “A few days,” he repeated.

Chapter Text

Nineteen

❦

Flora wasn’t exactly sure how they made it back upstairs and into the flat again without waking Sirius or Remus, but she hardly noticed for how light she felt. Even with Regulus’ magic muffling their feet and the sound of the door, she felt certain a light would flick on and reveal them any moment. But nothing happened. The door to Sirius and Remus’ room was shut, just as it had been when they left. It was two o’clock in the morning.

She scrubbed the face paint off and put her pyjamas on in the bathroom while Regulus wandered back into the front room. When she came back, he’d removed all trace of the makeup from his face, which she wondered at, but wondered more at the fact he asleep on her sofa-bed. He was lying on his stomach, still fully dressed, with his arm dangling over the edge of the sofa. He appeared as though he had stumbled in and fallen asleep in the first available spot he’d found. Flora blinked sleepily, rubbing at her face, which felt a little numb. She considered waking him to send him back to his own makeshift bed on the other side of the room, but he was sleeping so peacefully she didn’t have the heart to do it. She instead crawled over him and settled down to sleep facing the other direction.

They both slept with undisturbed ease until sometime around half past ten when Flora heard Remus and Sirius getting up. She didn’t open her eyes at first. Her head was still spinning and she felt like she had cottonwool in her mouth, but gradually she became aware of Regulus sleeping beside her. She opened her eyes and turned her head. He was breathing deeply and softly, lips slightly parted, his arm hooked around a cushion. He was fully facing her, when before they had been back-to-back, and was mere inches from pressing himself into her bottom. Flora sat up with a start, her eyes wide with panic. She heard her brother laughing and talking to Sirius just down the hallway and his voice was getting closer. With all the strength she could muster, she shoved Regulus off the sofa with both hands. He went down like a sack of potatoes, and all Flora heard was him yelp and curse just as Remus opened the door and came in.

Regulus didn’t seem to notice Remus, who had stopped short in the doorway. Regulus’ head shot up in view of Flora, his hair tousled, and a scowl fixed on his face.

“What the bloody hell—” he started. “Are you mental?”

Remus’ eyes bounced between the two of them, taking in the situation. Regulus noticed the wide-eyed look of sheer panic in Flora’s expression and looked over her head to Remus in the doorway. His eyes guiltily flickered over to his own bed. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Remus that the bed had not been slept in.

“What’s going on?” Remus frowned. “Why does it smell of alcohol in here?”

“It doesn’t,” Flora replied, throwing herself back down against the cushions and pulling the covers around herself, as though this would make Remus go away. Regulus, still scowling, got up and sat down on the end of Flora’s sofa-bed.

“Right, you,” Remus pointed a finger at Regulus, narrowing his eyes.

“Remus,” Flora groaned.

“What about me?” Regulus glared.

“Why aren’t you in your bed?” He demanded. It was one week until the full moon and he was not in a patient mood, particularly with someone he disliked as much as Regulus.

“I was.”

“He was,” Flora put in, her voice muffled.

Sirius came into the room at that moment, looking from Remus to Flora, then over to his brother. Though Remus did have an acute sense of smell due to being a werewolf, it didn’t take a powerful nose to notice the sharp, sweet odour of alcohol that pervaded the room.

“What’s going on?” Sirius asked, though he had a strong suspicion he already knew. “Why does it smell like booze?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Remus replied, folding his arms with his eyes still level on Regulus. His protective instinct for Flora was not going to let it drop. “And your brother, by the look of it, was sleeping next to my little sister.”

“He was not!” Flora threw the covers back, her face flushed.

“I was already up,” Regulus said calmly. His head was dizzy from the alcohol and now also from hitting his head on the floor. Staying calm, he feared, would not be possible for much longer. “I’ve been up for an hour,” he lied, “And I was sitting next to Flora on the floor. She smacked me because I tried to wake her up.”

Sirius gave his brother a long, measured look. He knew Regulus well enough to recognise when he was lying, and had a feeling he was not telling the whole truth. Remus also looked unconvinced. He looked at Flora for confirmation.

“Is that true, Flo?” His voice was quiet, but firm.

“Yes,” she sighed, glaring. “Why would he be in my bed?”

“And why does it smell like you’ve both been drinking?” Remus asked next.

“You were both drinking last night,” Regulus pointed out, looking at Remus and Sirius steadily. “The room smelled before you went to bed last night.”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Regulus?” Remus took a sudden step into the room like he was going to lunge at Regulus. Sirius put his hand out on Remus’ chest.

“Would you go away?” Flora snapped irritably. “I want to sleep.

“It’s half past ten,” Remus frowned. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing,” she turned over and pulled the covers around herself again, burying herself into the cushions.

Remus continued to assail his sister, demanding she answer him. Flora grumbled something and buried herself even further under the covers, pulling them over her head. Remus pulled them off her.

“Hey!” Flora cried out, vainly reaching back for them.

“Why does it smell of booze in here? I can smell it on your skin.”

“I’m trying to sleep, will you fuck off!” Flora shot back angrily. “You’re being such an arsehole!”

“Don’t you speak to me like that,” he said warningly.

“Go away.”

“What have you been drinking?” He moved over to the bottle of fire whiskey that was still sitting on the small dining table by the window. He picked it up and tilted it slightly, holding it by the neck to gauge whether she’d been drinking it and how much.

“Remus,” Sirius rubbed his face. “Can we all just calm down. Please.”

“Flora,” Remus ignored him, putting the bottle, which had clearly not been touched, back down with a deep frown. “What were you drinking? Did you bring something?” He looked to Regulus again, narrowing his eyes on him accusingly. “Trying to get my sister drunk?”

Regulus’s face darkened and he stood up to his full height. “I think you’ll find that your sister can make her own decisions about what she wants to do. You’re not her father. Leave her alone.”

Sirius looked increasingly torn between wanting to defend his younger brother and keeping the peace. He stood at Remus’ elbow as Remus took a step towards Regulus, his eyes burning dangerously.

“No, I’m not her father,” Remus snapped at Regulus, “But I’m her brother, and I’m here to look out for her, especially when there’s someone like you around.”

“Remus—” Sirius started.

Flora suddenly sat up. Her hair was sticking up in every direction and her eyes were ablaze with anger. “So what if I’ve been drinking? I’m eighteen. Leave me alone! I went out with Mark and—”

“Mark? Who’s Mark?” Remus exclaimed.

“The boy from the shop. We went out and I was drinking, but I’m back now and I’m obviously fine so will you please just fucking drop it?”

“You went out drinking with some random guy?” Remus replied, incredulous.

“He is not just some random guy!” Flora retorted. “I’ve been talking to him since I got here.”

“Oh, so all of two weeks?” Remus glared. “You went out and got drunk with a guy you just met? Do you have any idea how stupid that is?” His attention then darted to Regulus, who was standing partially in front of Flora. “And you? You must have known. You just let her go? Or did you go too?”

“He was sleeping when I left,” Flora cut in before Regulus could answer. “He didn’t know.”

Remus shot Regulus a venomous glare. “You swore to the Order that you’d keep her safe!”

“She is safe!” Regulus shot back.

“Actually,” Flora put in, looking at Remus,“You said his duty was to keep me safe in Wales, not London. Unless I’m hallucinating, I’m clearly in London right now and it was your job to stop me going anywhere. But you were drinking.”

Flora pointing out her brother’s hypocrisy only incited him further. “And you know you’re not supposed to go anywhere without me or Sirius.”

“You think I’d bring you two along on my date?” Flora scoffed indignantly. “Do you want to be there on my wedding night too? Although there’s a fat chance of that when you won’t even let me go out.”

“You can stop with the cheek, Flora,” Remus glared.

Flora climbed off the sofa and dragged her bag out from underneath, at once snatching up all her belongings and stuffing them inside without care. All the records she had bought, the clothes, the books, she shoved them all into this bag.

“What are you doing?” He sighed as he watched his sister.

“Getting away from you. I’m going home.”

“Fine, go then,” Remus snapped back. “You can sulk with Regulus.”

“Better than arguing with you.”

“You’re not even dressed.”

Flora ignored him. She looked to Sirius when she had managed to zip up her bag. “I’d like to go now, please.”

“Flo, are you sure—”

“Now.”

Sirius looked to Remus helplessly, but Remus just turned his head aside, clenching his jaw and trying to look unaffected.

A short while later, Sirius, Flora, and Regulus were standing on the damp, green grass of Wales in front of the old cottage. Flora, still in just her pyjamas, strode off ahead of them towards the door before she could feel the chill of the air. Sirius unlocked it with a swish of his wand as she approached, letting her in. In spite of her annoyance, she felt a distinct comfort in coming home. She was looking forward to sleeping in her own bed, to having more space, less eyes on her. And she had missed Wales. There was a word for that in her language: hiraeth. She’d felt a longing for her home as the weather grew darker and colder; to sit curled up in front of the ancient fireplace with one of her books while the wind blew around the eaves of the windows was a feeling that could only be articulated by that word.

She filled and put the kettle on as soon as she came in, then regarded the room with some measure of surprise by how clean it was. Regulus came through the front door and shut it behind him.

“Has Sirius gone?” Flora raised an eyebrow.

Regulus nodded. “Mmm. He said he’d come back later, let you cool off.”

“I’m not the one who needs to cool off,” Flora snapped. “It’s my brother who needs—”

“Yes, I know, I know,” Regulus conceded.

“Good,” she grumbled.

Regulus smiled thinly. He shook his coat off and hung it up, looking every bit of dignified as Flora looked flustered. She felt a little silly now and looked down at the teddy bear print on her flannel pyjamas, crossing her arms around herself. Regulus leaned against the kitchen sink and looked at her.

“It’s so clean in here,” she said quickly.

“Yes, I’ve had a house elf here, remember?”

“Right,” Flora nodded. She avoided his eye as she spoke. Now she had a moment to think about it, all she could remember when she looked at Regulus was the way his mouth had felt against hers.

“It was good that you stood up to him,” Regulus said after a moment. “To your brother, I mean. He was being a prick."

“I wouldn’t have called that standing up to him,” Flora shrugged. The kettle finished boiling and she turned around to prepare tea. Regulus, however, pulled out his wand and set the task to do itself with magic. Flora had grown somewhat used to the casual use of magic since staying with Remus and Sirius, but it still gave her a moment to pause. She turned back around to Regulus.

“How’s your head?” He asked.

“Hurts a little,” she grumbled, again lowering her gaze. “How’s yours?”

What she really wanted to ask was if he remembered kissing her and if he regretted it, but she couldn’t find the words. Regulus shrugged. “My head’s fine. Your muggle alcohol isn’t as strong as wizard stuff.”

Flora’s eyes snapped back up to his face. “Do you mean you weren’t drunk?”

“No, I was a little drunk,” he replied. “But I think you were more drunk.”

Flora grimaced and so he quickly added, in an attempt to make her feel better, “Which isn’t surprising since, well, you’re a girl, and a muggle.”

Flora rubbed her face and groaned softly. “I was so stupid.”

Regulus looked a little worried all of a sudden. “Stupid?”

Flora couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say it unless he said it. She turned away to look at the tea instead, which now only needed milk. She went to the fridge herself to get it, while at the same time Regulus moved to stand beside her. She resolutely kept her eyes down as she poured the milk into the cups.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Regulus asked. Like her, he could not directly broach the subject and wouldn’t say it unless she did first.

Flora didn’t answer. More accurately, she didn’t know how to answer and she didn’t know where to begin. She finished making the tea, stirring hers so aggressively that liquid spilled over the edges, and then handed one of the cups to Regulus. She swiftly walked towards the stairs.

“I’m going to rest in my room,” she said.

A prickle of unease and guilt crept up the back of Regulus’ neck, worried suddenly that she would walk in and know immediately he had been in her room. There was nothing he could do or say to prevent her, or else risk her suspicion. Flora paused at the door though, one foot on the step, glancing back at him sheepishly.

“Will that house elf be coming back?” She asked.

“Uh, probably,” he replied, a little surprised by the question.

“What time?”

“He comes at lunchtime, around noon, and then again at five to prepare dinner.”

“Oh…” she seemed to be deliberating over something, torn between ending it there and going upstairs, or saying something more. Finally, she chose the latter. “Would you… if you see him, I mean, would you tell him he doesn’t need to come back?”

“Not even to clean?” Regulus asked with a small frown. “It would be much easier for you if we kept him on.”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, I just… I don’t… I don’t really like house elves. I’m scared of them.”

Regulus’ raised on eyebrow. “Scared of them?”

Flora huffed softly through her nose, lifting her eyes to meet his. “Yes.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Why?”

“Because…” she frowned, “Oh, I’ll tell you later. My head hurts and I want to lie down.”

With that, she hurried off upstairs to her room and left Regulus alone in the kitchen.

❦

Though Flora was sleepy and hungover, it didn’t escape her notice when she walked into her bedroom that the teddy bears on her bed had been disturbed. They were parted in the middle, leaning, and when she came closer she found that her favourite one was on the floor. She frowned to herself, a little perplexed, but perhaps she had left them this way. She picked up her old bear and clutched it to her chest as she got under the covers, pulling them around herself in a cocoon. As she drifted off, she breathed in deeply, believing in her half-asleep state that she could smell Regulus on her pillow. It was a pleasant fantasy in her mind. If Remus had not barged into the living room back in London, she could have happily continued sleeping beside Regulus all day.

Regulus fell asleep on the sofa downstairs and was still asleep when Flora came down a little after lunchtime. Pod had been and gone, leaving two chicken sandwiches and a salad for them on the table. Flora eyed it as she came down, and glanced around the kitchen to make sure the elf definitely had gone. Once satisfied, she picked up the plates and brought them into the living room, setting Regulus’ down on the coffee table while holding hers as she sat down in her favourite armchair. She tucked her legs up and looked over at Regulus. He didn’t stir. Flora then noticed, with a little jump in her heart, that Pride and Prejudice had vanished from the coffee table.

She’d slept most of her hangover off, showered and washed, but wasn’t dressed apart from changing into a very long, loose t-shirt she used as a nightie. The shirt had once belonged to Remus, which she resented slightly, but couldn’t find anything else. It was comfortable.

She didn’t want to wake Regulus, but also didn’t want to sit in silence while she ate, so she switched on the television and put the volume low, but loud enough to hear. There was only one channel broadcasting daytime programmes, so Flora settled to watching The Adventures of Rupert Bear until the news would be on. Her gaze occasionally swept over Regulus, who was sleeping like an angel. His dark eye lashes were fanned out and he breathed softly, lost deep in his sleep.

She woke him by accident only a minute later when she set her empty plate down. It slipped in her hand and clattered loudly.

“Sorry,” she cringed.

Regulus blinked sleepily and yawned. He closed his eyes for a moment, then rubbed his face and opened them again, fixing his attention on Flora.

“What time is it?” He asked in a gravelly voice.

Flora glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Five to one.”

He sat up and stretched himself out. Outside it was beginning rain, which gave the stone-walled room a distinct, but not entirely unpleasant damp smell. The smell made Regulus feel a little nostalgic for Hogwarts, for the damp stones of the castle and for the smell of the wet earth on rainy Quidditch training days. Flora shivered a little and said to Regulus, “Can you get a fire going?”

He nodded and reached for his wand on the side, and a second later the fireplace was filled with a comfortable, warm blaze. He then picked up his sandwich and began to eat. Flora turned her attention back to the television.

“What are you watching?” Regulus frowned.

Flora’s lips twitched a little and she looked at him, “Rupert. But I’m waiting for the news to come on.”

Regulus said nothing and continued to eat. Flora glanced at him again after a moment and asked, “Did you go in my room while I was away?”

Regulus froze. When he first understood what she was asking, the rest of the sentence felt like he was hearing it much slower than she said it. He quickly sought to compose himself, continuing to eat like he was unaffected.

“No,” he replied at once, his brow furrowing. “Why?”

“The bears on my bed looked like they’d been moved, and poor Bartholomew was on the floor.”

“Well, I didn’t go in your room,” he said, avoiding her eye. He was somewhat relieved this was all she had noticed. “Maybe it was the house elf. Why would I go in your room?”

Flora frowned, sensing at once that he was trying to bury something, but she couldn’t prove it. She shrugged and looked away, turning her attention back to the television.

A few minutes later the news came on, but there was nothing particularly interesting in the report; there had been a coach crash in France, two dead, and Margaret Thatcher was talking about spending cuts. Flora very quickly lost interest and yawned, stretching herself out across her armchair. “I’m still so sleepy,” she said in a stifled voice.

“Mm,” Regulus nodded. “Me too.”

“Do you want anything else to eat?” She offered, rather hoping he would say no so she wouldn’t have to get up.

“I’m fine,” Regulus replied, fidgeting idly with the fringe on the sofa cushion and tracing his fingers over the velvet pattern. They both fell silent, both thinking about last night. Flora rested her chin on her knees, which she’d pulled up to her chest, and stared absently at the carpet. Regulus looked at her and wished suddenly that she was next to him so he could kiss her again. They remained on opposite sides of the room, but the distance between them made it feel like they were on opposite sides of the world. Both were too unsure to make the first move, to bring up what had happened.

“Do you—”

“Are you—“

They both spoke at exactly the same time and looked a little taken back for a split second. Flora laughed nervously, flushing and turning her gaze downward again. “You first.”

“No, you spoke first,” Regulus insisted, his heart pounding.

“No,” she shook her head, still avoiding his eye. “You.”

Regulus took a steady breath, gathering his thoughts. “Alright,” he began, his voice steady, quiet. He looked at her lowered head, her downcast eyes. “Last night, I… we….” He struggled to find the right word, not knowing how to say it.

“We kissed,” Flora said to help him along.

He swallowed thickly, grateful for her straightforwardness. “Yes.”

“More than once.”

“Yes,” he said again. “We did.”

Regulus shifted on the sofa, considering his next words carefully. “I just…I wondered whether, well,” the words were tangled in his throat and his heart was doing somersaults. Flora lifted her eyes to meet his, waiting expectantly. “I wondered if your feelings are still the same as they were last night.”

He said this quickly, running over the words clumsily. Flora was quiet for a long moment, then spoke softly, “My feelings?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “If you, I mean, had any strong feelings about it…”

Flora considered for another moment, then said, “I’m not sure what my feelings are. I didn’t feel confused last night, but that’s how I feel right now.”

“What are you confused about?” He asked, his heart sinking a little.

“I…I liked kissing you,” she admitted, which brought Regulus immense relief to hear. “I liked it a lot. But you’ve been so unkind to me, and it’s hard to forget that.”

“I know I’ve been unkind,” he was finding his footing now. He got up and moved to kneel down in front of her. Flora looked surprised by the sudden movement and recoiled for a split second, but then relaxed and settled her gaze on his.

“I know I’ve been insufferable,” he went on, “And that I drove you away, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Yes, and you have been a little better… but even so, I’m afraid that you will never truly see me as an equal,” Flora said. “If we were together, hypothetically, would you want people to know I was yours? Or would you be embarrassed?”

This made Regulus pause. There was terrible truth to her words that rushed at him with unsheathed guilt. His affection for her was real, and he so desperately wanted to kiss her again and love her, but the fact she was a muggle never truly left the back of his mind. The thought of presenting her to his friends and anyone who knew him made him suddenly deeply uncomfortable. Only as long as she was his secret, he felt he could bear it.

Flora noted his pause and nodded to herself. “I thought so.”

“No,” he said quickly, grabbing her hands and sitting up straighter. “No, I wouldn’t be embarrassed to call you mine.”

He knew as the words left his mouth that they weren’t entirely true, and it made his stomach twist with guilt and shame, but he couldn’t let her slip away at such a crucial moment.

Flora’s heart fluttered violently at the idea of being his but she maintained her composure. “You say that now, but it’s not like I can demand you prove otherwise. You can’t go anywhere.”

His mind, unbidden, conjured up visions of his estranged parents’ faces if they’d discovered he was so infatuated with a muggle. He could almost feel their fury. It would be worse than when Sirius was disowned for running away from the family.

Blood-traitor, disgrace, scum-lover, traitor, traitor, traitor.

He already was a traitor, but he wasn’t sure which of his actions—betraying Voldemort or kissing a muggle—they would consider worse. All he’d done was kiss her, but that didn’t diminish the matter, for he knew he wanted to do more than kiss her; he wanted her body and her mind, and he wished to share his with the same fervour. It scared him how much he wanted her. He just could not shake the feeling of it being a tragedy she was not a witch and could therefore not love her as his equal.

“I know I have much to work on,” he began again, speaking carefully as he weighed his words. “But I…I’d really like to kiss you again. There’s nothing so bad about kissing.”

“It isn’t just kissing though,” Flora sighed. “I feel like we opened this door a long time ago when you wrote that letter.”

Regulus went slightly pink at the memory of that letter. Flora continued before he could respond, “Did you mean what you wrote in that letter?” She demanded, finally finding the nerve to ask now they were speaking frankly.

Regulus’ gaze dropped to the floor a moment, then returned to her face. “It was stupid, I—”

“Did you mean it?” She interrupted.

“I—yes,” he admitted. “Yes, but it was crude and I didn’t mean it to disrespect you… and—and I would never touch you if you didn’t want me to.”

Flora looked down at his hands clasping hers. Regulus followed her eyes, swallowed, and withdrew them. He felt resigned, beaten. Whatever had happened between them ended here, which was perhaps wise. He didn’t expect Flora to speak, but he less expected what she said next.

“I do want you to…to touch me,” she said in a soft, uncertain voice. “Just a little.” Her words hung in the air between them, as if punctuating the stunned silence that had fallen over Regulus. She then took a breath and added, “I want you to kiss me again.”

Regulus stared at her for a prolonged moment, unsure whether he’d heard her correctly or that she meant something else. But then Flora unbent her knees, put her feet down on the floor and drew closer to Regulus. With some trepidation, she bought her hands to his head and gently pushed her fingers through his dark hair. Regulus shifted his position and settled himself between her parted knees, where he also placed his hands. They were warm on her bare skin. He lowered his head to press soft, chaste kisses along her knees, causing Flora’s breath to hitch in her throat.

Regulus felt a rush of excitement. He paused in his little trailing kisses to look at her, giving her a small, quirked smile from the corner of his mouth, and he moved his hands up to her hips. Flora rolled forward and slid down gently to sit on the floor, where Regulus pulled her onto his lap, her legs on either side of him, with his hands firmly anchoring her hips down against him. Flora clasped her arms around his neck like she’d seen actresses do in films and read in novels. They kissed, open-mouthed, heatedly.

“Is this alright?” Regulus murmured against her mouth.

“Mhmm,” Flora breathed, connecting their mouths again.

Regulus’ hand trailed up her back, resting in the centre, while his other hand moved down to her thigh. Her nightie had ridden up from the position she was currently in, bunched up around her hips, and Regulus just lightly touched the leg elastic of her underwear before drifting his fingers away again. He was aroused, and was sure Flora would notice due to the way she was currently pressed against him. They paused for breath and looked at one another. Regulus gently held the sides of her head and kissed her forehead, then her lips.

“You know,” he said slowly, “I thought kissing a muggle would feel different from kissing a witch.”

Flora snorted softly. “Different? We’re the same species, Regulus.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “And actually, this is better.”

“Is it?”

“I’ve only ever kissed witches before, and they weren’t very good at it.”

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Flora said like it was a confession, though she knew it might be obvious.

“You should be kissed all the time,” he murmured, leaning back in to catch her lips in his. Flora’s breath caught in her throat. She kissed him back fiercely, her hands moving across his chest, up to his shoulders and the firm muscles of his arms.

“Would you still have come back if you hadn’t argued with your brother?” Regulus asked.

Flora suddenly thought of Mark. She felt she had to speak to him, explain herself in some way. Now she was sober, it was more likely she would’ve stayed in London if she hadn’t fallen out with Remus. She shrugged in response to Regulus’ question. “I don’t know. I was so annoyed with him, I just wanted to get away. It’s more annoying that the only two places I can go are here or there.”

“Where did you go that day you left the boundaries?” He lightly kissed her earlobe.

“Oh,” Flora sighed softly, leaning into him. “Nowhere in particular. The woods.”

“Why did you go so far though? And for so long?”

Regulus sat back slightly so he could look at her. Flora shrugged, glancing askance. “There’s an old cottage ruin in that area of the woods. Just a shell of a building. I used to play there with Remus when I was little. I wanted to go there and think after what you told me about him and…and Sirius,” she lifted her eyes to Regulus’ eyes. “But something frightened me there. I heard a noise. I started to walk back, but I took a wrong turn and got a little lost. Then Sirius found me.”

Regulus frowned slightly. “You could’ve been—”

“Don’t start,” Flora put her hand to his mouth. “I’ve heard it already.”

Regulus smiled a little and pulled her hand away. He kissed her again gently. “Alright, I won’t.”

“Do you want to go for a walk before dinner?” Flora asked, resting her head on his shoulder. “Within the boundaries, of course.”

Regulus rubbed small circles over her back and nodded. “Mmm,” he hummed, “If you like.”

“Whenever the house elf is supposed to arrive, can we go then?”

Regulus let out a small laugh through his nose. “You’re really scared of house elves?”

“Terrified.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “By the way, what was that all about my condition?”

Flora grimaced. “Oh god. I’ll tell you when we go for a walk. I don’t feel like explaining things right now.”

“You can tell me why you’re scared of house elves as well.”

“Fine,” she agreed. She slid off his lap and pressed a small kiss to his lips before standing up. “I’m going to unpack my things and bring my record player back down. I got some new singles. I really like this goth band called The Cure lately.”

❦

They set off on their walk a little before five o’clock. It had stopped raining, though the sky was still dark grey, and a cold wind whipped at their faces as they walked side by side. It was not so cold as to be unpleasant though. It was bracing, refreshing, and pushed away the lethargic feeling they’d been battling all afternoon. Flora began to explain her dread of house elves.

“It’s a simple story,” she said, “When I was eight, I went with my mam to see Remus off to Hogwarts for his first year and I bumped into a house elf. It gave me the nastiest look and frightened me and I’ve been scared of them ever since.”

Regulus blinked, his eyes widening just a little. “Kreacher?”

Flora looked at him and narrowed her eyes. “Are you calling me names again?”

“What? No,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s the name of my family’s house elf. Kreacher. You might’ve bumped into Kreacher. He came with us the day Sirius started Hogwarts and there weren’t many other house elves there.”

Flora came to the realisation at the same time as Regulus. “We might’ve walked by each other,” Flora said.

“Was there anyone with Kreacher?” He asked curiously.

Flora bit her lip, thinking. “There was, uh, what I remember… like a tall woman, I think. I remember her as like a big black bird because she had a black fur or feather stole around her neck, or a feather hat.”

“That sounds exactly like my mother,” Regulus said, half in disbelief. “She had a stole made of ostrich feathers. Hideous thing.”

“I don’t suppose you were there too?” Flora asked, her mind buzzing over the revelation that she may have crossed paths with Regulus many years before.

He nodded. “I would’ve been on the other side of her, probably. I was…” he smiled a little, looking suddenly shy and wistful, “I was crying.”

Flora mirrored his gentle smile. “Why?”

“I didn’t want Sirius to go,” he said. “Weren’t you sad when your brother left?”

“A little,” she shrugged. “Not terribly. I was more upset that I would never get to go to Hogwarts. I really wanted to be a witch. I was thrilled when Remus let me have his old cauldron to play with one summer. I went into the garden and filled it with leaves and flowers and rocks, then poured water into it. He must’ve done something to it when I wasn’t looking, because it was blue and sparkling the next time I looked.”

Regulus smiled. Flora’s vendetta with Remus had cooled somewhat as the day progressed and she didn’t sound so bitter as she recalled this little anecdote involving him. He caught hold of her hand and held it in his as they walked.

“So tell me now what my condition is,” he smirked.

“Chronic Disorientation Syndrome,” Flora mumbled, looking down with embarrassment. “I don’t know why I said it, or where it came from. I just needed something to explain why you were acting so weird.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “I wasn’t acting weird,” he said a little indignantly.

“Oh, come off it. You were too afraid to get on the escalator.”

“With good reason.”

“And you didn’t know how to use the ticket barrier.”

“Well, of course I didn’t,” he huffed softly.

“So I told him you had this…this condition. And he didn’t really believe me and thought it was a joke, and then it all backfired and…” she sighed heavily, trailing off.

When she looked at Regulus again, she was surprised to see him smirking. “It’s not funny,” Flora frowned.

“It is a bit funny,” Regulus replied.

“He probably thinks I’m mental.”

Regulus shrugged, privately pleased with this idea. “Oh well.”

They walked the circuit of the woods and then returned to the cottage a little before six. The house elf had gone, but Sirius had arrived and was just about to tap on the door when he saw Flora and Regulus coming out the shadow of the woods with their hands clasped. The two quickly released their hands and stopped in their tracks, startled.

Sirius stepped away from the door and meandered over to them, a perplexed frown on his face. “I was just coming to see if Flora was okay,” he said, eyeing his brother.

“I’m fine,” Flora replied quickly.

“Remus didn’t, uh, want to come in case you were still cross, but he says you’re welcome to come back,” Sirius continued, looking at her now.

Flora shook her head. “I’d rather stay here for a while.”

Sirius nodded wordlessly, his eyes flickering between them curiously, unsure whether he’d really seen them holding hands just a moment ago. “Okay, well then,” he straightened up. “Suppose I’ll go home if everything is okay. Oh, and—” he quickly reached into his jacket pocket and procured a folded piece of paper, just like he’d done when he gave Regulus the note from Flora. “That boy in the shop asked me to give you this.”

Flora felt something between a sickening lurch in her stomach and excitement as she looked at the paper in Sirius’ outstretched hand. She took it but didn’t open it, mumbling thanks to Sirius. She felt Regulus stiffen beside her. He didn’t ask to see it even when they were alone again eating dinner, but his previous easiness felt stilted.

She didn’t open it until she was alone in her room later that evening. Regulus was taking a shower, preparing for bed before Flora would monopolise the bathroom. It was a very short note with a phone number written in large, quick scrawl and the words:

Call me

— Mark.

Chapter Text

Twenty

❦

Flora deliberated over the idea of calling Mark as she lay in bed that night. It wasn’t so a matter of if, but more a matter of when. She wanted to apologise to him, to try and explain, but she was still playing the game that magazines and girls at school had taught her — wait a bit, don’t call immediately and risk looking desperate. Wait.

So she didn’t call the following day. She rose before Regulus to shower and dress, then went outside to survey the carnage he’d probably done to her flowers. It was a chilly November morning, the second day of the month, and she remembered suddenly that it was Sirius’ twenty-first birthday tomorrow as she knelt down to tug up a stubborn weed. Surprisingly, her flower beds still appeared to be in order. Some of her autumn flowers were coming out, and her orange rose bush had bloomed. She happily continued to pull weeds up, discarding them in the pile where Regulus had left off.

He preoccupied her mind as she worked, half with pleasure and half with fear. She could not shake the dread that he would turn around and declare it all a big mistake, especially once the war was over. Whether he truly had it in him to change, Flora couldn’t guess with any confidence. Remus—and even Sirius for that matter—had often warned Flora about boys, and their dire warnings came back to her now. Perhaps he was just using her.

Flora was spiraling in these thoughts when Regulus’ voice behind her interrupted. She jumped a little and turned around to see him holding two cups of tea.

“Are the flowers alright?” He asked, looking a little worried. He held out one cup for her to take.

“Thanks,” she took the hot tea carefully and looked back at the flower beds behind her. “They’re doing quite well actually. My chrysanthemums have flowered,” she pointed to a group of yellow and orange flowers.

“I didn’t know flowers still came up at this time of year,” Regulus replied.

“Only certain kinds. I planted these last spring so they would grow this autumn. Brighten the garden up a little. And look, my rose bushes are blooming too.”

Regulus nodded. “I am glad I didn’t pull up anything I shouldn’t have.”

“So am I,” Flora agreed, taking a sip of her drink. “You had me worried. But it’s fine, so thank you.”

They both sipped their tea in silence for a long moment. Regulus was standing relatively close to her, just at her elbow. They both knew their situation was strange, admittedly even a little awkward. Yesterday had been a breakthrough, but both were unsure of how to proceed. They stood listening to the birds in the trees above, the flutter of wings taking off branches, the odd crackle of mice scurrying under the fallen leaves. Each time they released a breath, the air around them clouded.

“What are you going to do today?” Regulus finally asked, looking at her sidelong.

“Well,” Flora considered, drumming her fingers along her cup. “I was thinking, as it’s your brother’s birthday tomorrow, why don’t we organise a little party for him?”

Predictably, Regulus scrunched his nose up at the idea. “A party?”

“Just us, and Remus I suppose,” she said a little grudgingly.

“I don’t have a present for him,” Regulus reasoned lamely. “I’ve no access to money.”

“Then make something for him, like a card. I’ll bake him a cake. I also knitted a little black dog ages ago for him, I just need to finish the tail.”

Flora turned and began to walk back to the cottage as she made these plans aloud. Regulus followed with a small frown on his face, clearly less than thrilled with the idea but resigned because Flora had already made up her mind. She put her tea aside once she reached the living room and began searching down the sides of the cushions for something, huffing and sighing under her breath.

“What are you looking for?” Regulus asked.

“My two-way mirror,” she said as she was pulling up the larger cushions of the sofa.

In a shot, Regulus accio’ed the very thing she was seeking (it was under the armchair) and handed it to her. Flora wasn’t sure whether she would get a response this early in the morning, but she knew Sirius and Remus always kept their mirror on hand in case of emergencies. To her dismay, Remus answered first. He was in bed and had clearly just woken up.

“I’d like to speak to Sirius, please,” she said stiffly, as though making a formal phone call. And, simply to be contrary, she said it in Welsh.

Remus rubbed his face sleepily, uncomprehending. “What?”

“Pass me to Sirius,” she reiterated impatiently, still in Welsh.

Regulus stretched out on the sofa directly behind Flora and picked up his newest Quidditch magazine, pretending to read it while she waited to speak to Sirius. He’d never properly heard her speak Welsh until now and was listening with interest to the melodic shape of her words, even if it was passively unfriendly. She sat down on the edge of the sofa by his feet.

Remus passed the mirror over to Sirius—who, Flora noticed uncomfortably, was apparently lying right next to him in bed. Sirius, though groggy, was a little brighter with her and quickly grew interested as Flora made her proposal about the party. Sirius was amenable to the idea and it was arranged quickly in a short exchange, at which point Flora rose from the sofa, carelessly tossed the mirror aside, and disappeared into the kitchen to begin baking a cake.

Regulus sighed to himself and stared across at the great number of books stacked along the shelves. He didn’t want a party, small as it may be. He just wanted to be alone with Flora. He had stayed awake reading Pride and Prejudice the previous night. Though he was enjoying the novel, it was a distraction he had sought above all else. They still kept to their own routine, except last night they had paused to say goodnight on the landing before going to their rooms. Uncertainty crept between them then as it continued to do now. Regulus hadn’t been sure if he should kiss her goodnight; he’d been somewhat stiff with her, awkward, and in the end fled quickly without kissing her and then sorely wishing he had.

When the cake was cooking in the oven some fifteen minutes later, Regulus got up from the sofa and came into the kitchen with new determination. He would kiss her. Why should he not? But his timidity resurfaced as he laid his eyes on her. Flora was licking cake batter off her fingers, unaware of his presence, and for a moment Regulus’ gaze was fixated on her glistening fingers. When Flora sensed him and turned her head, she looked at him with a tranquil, lazy sort of smile, one finger still pressed to her parted lips. Regulus swallowed thickly, losing all sense of perspective. He moved to her and encircled her by the waist.

Flora let out a little surprised gasp and at once wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He was so much taller than her she had to lift her head slightly to meet his eyes; to meet his lips, she raised herself up on her toes like a ballerina, and Regulus held her up like he was her partner in dance. There was more desperation to their kisses this time, a gasping neediness.

Flora’s previous worries dissipated as he kissed her. She felt wanted, not used. Regulus was kissing her like a wild animal, his hair falling over his forehead, holding her so tightly she was imprisoned by his arms.

“You’re suffocating me,” Flora laughed softly.

Regulus loosened his arms a little and smiled, “Sorry,” he murmured. He eased Flora back down to the flats of her feet and dipped down to kiss her, meeting her height, before suddenly lifting her and placing her on the kitchen counter. A spoon went clattering to the floor, and the bowls she’d been measuring things into were all grievously pushed aside. Flora, with Regulus now standing between her legs, wrapped them around his waist and pushed herself closer. His hips were level with the counter. She looked at him, her hands planted on his shoulders.

“Do you still like this?” Regulus asked in a low voice, trailing kisses down her neck. “It’s okay?”

“Yes,” Flora breathed back. “Yes, it’s okay.”

He had awakened her body and she felt pleasure pooling in the extremities of her stomach. She had no experience, but she knew in a vague way what she wanted. Regulus’ hands were on her waist, his fingers softly digging into her flesh; Flora took hold of one of his hands and guided it upwards to her breast, which was concealed under a shapeless jumper. Emboldened, Regulus spread his fingers and then closed them to envelope her small breast under his hand, feeling its roundness, its subtle heaviness, and squeezing gently. He moaned under his breath as he continued to kiss her, open-mouthed, their tongues together. 

Flora’s hands wandered over the small contours of his chest. He was slight in frame, though he had put some weight on since living with her, but he was definitively slim. The muscles of his chest and arms were likewise small, but they were surprisingly firm and strong. Flora had always had the impression she would not feel safe in the arms of a heavy-set man, for she felt they would crush her, step on her like a wildflower in a field. In Regulus’ slender arms she felt nothing could harm her. He held her so tenderly.

Flora let her head fall back as he kissed her jawline and neck. She moved her hands to his hair, grasping it. One of her legs slid down from his waist, but he grabbed it and hooked it under his arm, holding her in place. They paused for a moment, their breathing heavy and laboured; Regulus lifted his head to look at her, his grey eyes dilated with desire. He brought his lips back to hers but didn’t touch them, instead letting them hover above hers. The tip of his nose brushed hers and he swallowed thickly.

He was about to speak when the timer on the oven—a shrill, piercing sound like an alarm clock—went off, making them both jump violently.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Flora breathed, her hand fluttering over her heart. She then started to laugh and Regulus breathed out a soft laugh too, resting his forehead against hers.

He closed his eyes a moment. “That’s not the first time muggle inventions have scared the shit out of me.”

“I honestly don’t know how you’ve survived this long,” she wriggled her way off the counter and out of his arms to see to her cake. She quickly deposited two separate cake tins on the table, lightly pressed the centre of the cakes with her finger to test they were fully cooked, and then switched the oven off.

“What kind of cake is it going to be?” Regulus asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Now they had broken the ice again, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her.

“Victoria sponge,” she replied, resting her hands on his. “I’ll let them sit a minute or two, then put them to cool.”

“Can’t we have it today?” He said, eyeing the cake hungrily.

She shuffled around to face him. “No, you have to wait until tomorrow.”

He grumbled something incoherent and just held her for a moment, his chin resting on her head and Flora with her cheek against his shoulder.

“Do you want to help me decorate it?” Flora asked after half a minute had passed.

“You’ll need to show me how,” Regulus replied a little uncertainly.

They spent the early afternoon decorating Sirius’ cake—a simple jam and buttercream with star sprinkles—and then spent the rest of the afternoon kissing in the living room and listening to Flora’s new records. Regulus, though he wouldn’t admit it, was growing rather fond of her muggle music. He liked The Cure in particular for its subdued moodiness and was privately happy to discover she’d purchased the entire album. It suited the gloomy day well.

By half past four, the sun had set and they were sprawled out on the floor together. It was Sunday, so Flora reasoned they were allowed to be lazy. She lay with her head on his chest, Regulus with his arms wrapped around her. They were listening to one of her mum’s records now, The Zombies.

“I’m tired,” Flora yawned.

“Mmm,” Regulus murmured in quiet agreement.

Flora happened to glance upwards at the telephone on a corner table and thought uneasily of Mark. As if reading her thoughts, Regulus asked suddenly and slightly cuttingly, “What did shop boy want?”

Flora sat up on her elbow, pushing her hair back. It had grown long over the last few months and now reached her chest.

“He wants me to call him,” Flora replied.

A small frown darkened Regulus’ brow. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged truthfully. The date had gone catastrophically bad, she couldn’t understand why he still wanted to talk to her. “I should apologise to him anyway, so I probably will call—”

“Apologise for what?” Regulus interrupted.

“What do you mean for what?” Flora gave him a disapproving, though somewhat playful look. “It was a date and I brought another boy with me, a boy who then,” she went on, trailing her fingers up his navel and down again, “seduced and stole me from said date.”

The frown on Regulus’ face crept into a smirk, as though he were proud of himself. “Yeah, well, he was a wanker. But if you want to marry him and eat haggis for the rest of your life, I suppose that’s none of my business.”

“He’s nice,” she chided, rolling her eyes. “He just wasn’t very nice to you because you were rude to him.”

“I could’ve been ruder.”

Flora snorted softly. “I believe it.”

He watched her hand as it crept over the uncovered skin, the small trailing dark hairs below his belly button, just between his trouser waistband and shirt. He took in a small, sharp breath.

“Don’t do that,” he breathed lowly.

Flora lifted her eyes to meet his, smirked and placed the flat of her palm over his navel. “Did you tell that house elf to not come back?” She asked. At lunchtime, Flora had disappeared upstairs and left Regulus to speak to the elf.

“Yes,” he replied, still eyeing her hand as her fingers continued to tease his bare skin. His trousers suddenly felt a lot tighter.

“I’m sure he’s a very nice elf,” she said, feeling a little guilty. She idly moved her hand up to his chest. “But I can’t… it’s the eyes… the nose… everything…”

Regulus smiled sympathetically. “I think you’re just remembering Kreacher. They’re not all as terrifying as him.”

“And you had to live with him. Weren’t you scared?”

“No,” Regulus shook his head. “Honestly, I was very fond of him.”

“Fond?” Flora echoed, incredulous.

“Not many people are kind to house elves,” he explained, lightly tracing his fingers up and down her arm. She’d removed her jumper and was just in a button-up dress. “I’ve always felt a bit sorry for them. Kreacher has been very loyal to my family and to me. I felt he deserved the same respect.”

Flora couldn’t comprehend why he was more respectful of those awful creatures than he was of muggles, but she didn’t voice this. She would never have been unkind to an elf, but she also would never voluntarily be in the same room as one. They made her shudder.

“I still think it is bizarre we walked by each other all those years ago,” Regulus said.

“We probably walked by each other every year,” Flora mused. “I always came to say goodbye to Remus. It was where I met Sirius for the first time. Chances are I saw you as well."

“When did you meet Sirius?”

“When Remus started his second year.”

Regulus paused to think for a moment, mulling over a memory he had until now believed was insignificant. “Were you the girl standing next to Remus?”

Flora blinked. “Well, probably. But it could’ve been Lily. She’s married and got a baby now, did you know?”

“No, it wasn’t her,” he shook his head, “It was a little girl.” He hovered his hand over the floor to make some vague indication of height. “Sirius dragged me over to meet Remus and he was standing with a girl, and it might’ve been you now that I think about it. Do you… do you not remember?”

Flora considered, then shook her head. “Not really. I was very shy and was hiding behind him in case of house elves.”

Regulus smirked and shook his head. “How will I take you out in my world if you’re so scared of everything?”

“I’m not scared of everything,” Flora frowned. “Just house elves. Anyway, you’re one to talk. You’re scared of escalators and oven clocks and televisions and—”

Regulus raised himself up slightly to pull her down next to him. “Oh, shut up,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he kissed her.

He kissed her goodnight that evening when they went to bed. For a moment after, they held each other’s gazes as they stood on the landing. If Flora invited him into her room, she knew what would happen. But they said goodnight and retreated to their respective rooms, though neither slept. Flora stayed awake finishing the tail on the knitted dog for Sirius, then made it a small scarf in Gryffindor colours, but the repetition of the task did nothing to distract her from thoughts of him. Regulus tried to read, but the words swam before his eyes.

Flora had not yet changed her bedding and was making a mental plan to do it the next day when she noticed a long dark hair on her pillow. She had been plumping her pillows, trying to get comfortable, when she saw it; she picked it up carefully and held it to the lamplight. Flora’s hair was not as dark as Regulus’ hair, which almost looked black in certain lights. She thought back to when she had imagined she’d smelled him on her pillow, now feeling less certain she’d imagined it after all. He had been in her room, on her bed.

She wrapped the hair around her finger and laid back. The knowledge that he had been in her room was both thrilling and disturbing. Why he had been there in the first place though was an answer which evaded her. She rolled over and sought out the scent of him, burying herself deeper as she searched, wishing suddenly she was in his arms, his skin against hers, his breath hot on her neck like it had been that afternoon. The thought that he was only next door was maddening. And she couldn’t find his scent anymore; all she could smell was her own shampoo and perfume, and the faint hints of lavender from the linen cupboard. It was not him.

She thought of his letter and a shiver passed through her body. In hindsight, she wished she hadn’t flown off the handle with him. She had the same temper as Remus, and granted she had already been upset with him for calling her cruel names, but reading those words had stirred something in her even then. She tried to recall the exact wording of his letter but could only conjure the essence of it. It was enough, however. Her blood was fired thinking about him, and her fingers slipped between her parted thighs with the feeling she would never be able to control herself again.

It was nearly midnight by the time Flora finally fell asleep, and one o’clock for Regulus. They both slept late into the morning. Flora, as before, was downstairs before Regulus making breakfast. When the latter came down, he had not expected to see her brother sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of toast and cup of coffee. Remus cast Regulus a dark look, but otherwise ignored him as he continued to speak to Flora. At a glance, they seemed on slightly better terms, though Flora was still somewhat stiff with him as she sat and ate her breakfast opposite.

“Look, if you come back for a bit, I’ll take you to the pictures,” Remus said.

“I don’t want to go to the pictures,” Flora sniffed.

“You wanted to see that horror film. What was it… The Shimmering?”

“The Shining,” she corrected with a little sigh.

“The Shining,” he repeated. “I’ll take you to see it."

“It’s not out until next week.”

“Then we’ll see something else this week, then I’ll take you to see that next week.”

She gave him a steady, measured look as she sipped her drink. “Did you know it’s about a family stuck in the middle of nowhere together? The dad has a mental breakdown and tries to kill his wife and son. I read the book already.”

Remus stared back at her with the same steady gaze. Flora continued to eat her breakfast and glanced over his shoulder at Regulus, who was making himself tea without magic.

“Good morning, Regulus,” she said, a little more brightly.

Regulus gave her a small, quick smile that Remus didn’t see. “Morning.”

The fact Regulus verbally replied instead of giving his usual grunt of response took Remus by surprise. He looked behind him as though to check it was Regulus and not somebody else.

“Wake up on the right side of the bed this morning, Regulus?” Remus asked dryly.

Regulus’ shot him a scathing look, stirring his drink. “I thought I had until I discovered you were here.”

“Remus came to say sorry for overreacting,” Flora said. Regulus noticed now that she had a small stack of chocolate next to her—chocolate frogs and chocolate wands and chocolate bars. An obvious peace offering.

“I never said I was overreacting,” Remus put in with a small frown.

“Didn’t you?” Flora tilted her head, “Because you should have.”

“It was a bloody stupid thing to do, Flo. You know it was.”

“I’m not arguing with you again,” Flora sighed in irritation. “I want to have a nice day today. I’ve made Sirius a cake.”

Remus glanced over at the cake, which was sitting at the other end of the table. Flora then added, "Regulus helped me decorate it."

"Did he?" Remus raised an eyebrow. 

Regulus sat down beside Flora at the table with his cup of tea, earning himself another curious look from Remus. Remus, generally, was not the most perceptive, but the short interaction he had witnessed between them so far was telling him something was amiss. He sensed the peace between them and it disturbed him for he distrusted Regulus so deeply. His determination to take Flora back to London only increased. 

But Flora would not relent. She would stay. So Remus, somewhat begrudgingly, left around half an hour later, arranging to come back with Sirius at five. Flora at once got to work with the cooking and more baking while she set Regulus the task of decorating the living room—hanging a colourful bunting across the mantelpiece and blowing up balloons. Flora hadn’t expected him to come back in mere seconds telling her he’d finished.

She blinked. “What?”

“Done it,” he said, leaning against the counter.

Flora stared at him blankly for a second, then realised. Magic. Of course. She had only just started preparing the quiche and was at once disheartened at thinking how long all her cooking was going to take.

Regulus smiled softly at her. “I don’t know any cooking spells, but perhaps I can help,” he offered, lifting his wand.

“No!” Flora said at once, moving the dish and covering it with her arm. “Remus did that once and it was chaos. I’m sure there are still soup stains on the ceiling.”

He lowered his wand, seeing her point. “Alright then. What shall I do?”

She glanced around. The house was still quite clean and tidy because of Pod’s housekeeping, so there was nothing she could immediately see that needed attention.

“Um, if you can, would you go up and strip my bed? Yours too if it needs doing. I’ll put a wash on.”

Regulus looked a little surprised by the request. “Your bed?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, avoiding his eye. She continued chopping up onions. “Please.”

“Your room?” He began to take some uncertain steps towards the stairs.

“That is where my bed is, Regulus, yes,” she said a little impatiently, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Although you already know that well enough, I think.”

He paused, going a little pink, unsure if she meant what he thought she meant. She didn’t say it bitterly; her tone was brisk but quiet, almost shy, and she’d lowered her gaze. Regulus left the kitchen quickly and wordlessly, taking the stairs two at a time. He did his own bed first and he used magic to do it, but he took his time in Flora’s bedroom, stripping her unmade bed by hand. The room felt warmer than downstairs, heady with her recent presence—her perspiration, her breath; it was pleasantly potent to Regulus and he wished he could wrap himself in it like a cloak. He had just begun to take the pillowcases off when he heard a noise behind him. Flora stood in the doorway uncertainly, loitering as though she were nervous to enter her own bedroom. Regulus stopped and looked at her, feeling suddenly like he had a large pill in his throat.

“You were in my room, weren’t you?” She asked. “While I was away.”

Only two weeks ago there had been little hope between them. Drawing back further to the beginning of September and there had been no hope at all. The derision Regulus had once treated her with seemed an impassable hurdle, and now in a relatively short period of time they stood here looking at one another with such piteous, sickening longing. Regulus searched her face for some sign of their future darkening, for some quarrel, but Flora’s eyes were clear and open. She wasn’t accusing him, she was seeking confirmation so that they could move forward.

For several seconds they continued to stare at each other. Regulus couldn’t speak. When he did finally answer her, it was with guilty admission.

“Yes,” he said.

“Why?” She stepped into her room and folded her arms across her chest. It was not a defensive stance, but a self-conscious movement of not knowing how to hold herself.

He felt compelled to be honest, but the words felt weak and hollow as they left his mouth. Admitting the entire truth of what he had done was too shameful.

“I…I don’t know,” he replied, avoiding her eye. “I wanted to be close to you.”

Flora studied his face closely, searching. “That’s all?”

He nodded once. “Yes… I know it’s—it’s weird. But I missed you,” he finally looked at her again. “I wanted to feel near you.”

In spite of her confusion and all her questions, she moved closer to him and unfolded her arms, letting them drop to her sides. “But… what did you do?”

Regulus shook his head and glanced aside, shrugging. “Nothing,” he lied. He closed the small distance between them, taking hold of her hips gently. “I fell asleep on your bed.”

To his relief and surprise, her lips curled into a teasing smile. “You’re unbelievably weird.”

He let out a breath through his nose, smirking. He brought his hand to her face and rubbed his thumb against her cheek and the contours of her small mouth before kissing her softly.

“Are we getting drunk tonight?” Flora murmured.

“I’ll do whatever you do.”

“I want to get drunk.”

“Then we’ll get drunk,” he slid his hands around her waist, dipped his head down to kiss her again. “As drunk as you want.”

Kissing her so freely made him feel like a different person. He no longer felt the burden and weight of his identity, the legacy that came with his name. In moments like this, he was not Regulus Black, heir to the ancient and noble House of Black, but simply a boy kissing the girl he adored. And he really did adore Flora. It was all-consuming adoration, a desire to do anything she wished, anything to make her happy.

Flora’s hands wandered over the planes of his back. He had no pain from his injuries anymore, but he still jolted slightly when he felt her fingers find their way under the back of his shirt and touch the raised, broken skin along his torso. He broke the kiss and eased her hands away, bringing them to the small space between their chests. He at once saw the question in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she started, “I didn’t mean to—”

She had seen the scars before, caught in moments when Regulus encountered her without his shirt on, but there was a silent understanding between them to never mention their existence. He’d never told her how he got them, and Flora never asked. She knew in some vague way what had happened from details she had gathered from either Sirius or Remus, but she never felt it was in her right to ask Regulus herself. Truthfully, she had forgotten the scars were there.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, not knowing what else to say.

Flora moved her hands up to his shoulders and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I should get back to cooking. I only have three hours left to get it done.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing you want me to do?” He asked.

“Just finish stripping my bed so I can put the washing on.”

He nodded, kissed her lightly, then released her from his arms. Flora went back downstairs to the kitchen.

Chapter Text

Twenty-One

❦

As arranged, Sirius and Remus returned around five. It was fully dark by then; the lights in the room were on, and there was a warm fire blazing in the fireplace. She’d laid out the coffee table with a red tablecloth and wide yellow ribbon as tribute to Gryffindor, and then had the bright idea of having Regulus transfigure the balloons into star shapes. As the room came together, and all the food and baking was laid out, Regulus started to feel slightly more interested in the impending party—especially when Flora went to change and came back down in one of her shortest mini dresses. It had long sleeves, a collar and bow at the neck, and a hemline which just grazed the very top of her thighs. Had she not been wearing thick tights, Regulus would’ve seen far more every time she bent over.

Before Remus had left, Flora asked him to bring Butterbeer and “wizard sweets,” as she called them, and he fully delivered on this promise. The room looked akin to Honeydukes. Overall, it was warm and cosy, and Sirius was amazed by the effort she’d put in to give him a nice party.

“It’s like the Gryffindor common room, Flo,” he remarked fondly. He embraced Flora sideways and gave her a chaste, brotherly kiss on the cheek, and Flora found this time she didn’t squirm and blush so dreadfully. Nevertheless, Regulus still cast his brother a rather dark look, although Sirius didn’t notice for being distracted by all the food on the table.

When he saw the cake, Flora quickly informed him, “Regulus helped too. He did the jam bit, and it was his idea to use the stars.”

Sirius looked as every bit of surprised as Remus had when she’d told him. The two shared a glance. Sirius then looked over her shoulder at his dour little brother, who was standing back by the fireplace like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“It looks very nice, Reg,” Sirius said, resisting the urge to tease him.

Regulus glanced aside, feeling awkward. He had no gift for him, having not taken up Flora’s suggestion of making him a card. It felt too childish. He'd made Sirius numerous cards and pictures when they were little boys— mostly pictures of dragons and kneazles and magical creatures. He’d needed no occasion to make them. He would just push them under Sirius’ bedroom door and then run off to draw more. Regulus had no idea that Sirius still had them.

“Were you watching to make sure he didn’t poison it?” Remus asked, his mouth full of food.

Remus was already helping himself to the fairy buns Flora had prepared—she’d made two batches of them (in fact, she’d made two of everything) knowing they wouldn’t last long otherwise. Her mum used to say Remus had hollow legs, and given he had very long legs as well, it took a lot to fill him.

“Stop being mean,” Flora warned.

Remus, perplexed by this sudden defence of Regulus, looked at her oddly for a moment. He didn’t like this one bit, and in truth would have preferred to see them bickering and fighting. Sirius also looked at her with quiet bafflement, though less surprised than he had been last night when he saw—no thought he saw—them holding hands. Sirius had since reasoned it away, blaming the darkness of the evening, a trick of the increasing moonlight. Regulus had been holding his wand for light and it was possible Flora had just been standing close in order to see her way.

She moved away from her brother to put music on. She had carefully chosen every track (lots of Bowie, ABBA, Blondie, and Queen) and placed them in order, which she then got Regulus to charm so they would automatically switch over every time a song ended. Regulus liked using magic around Flora simply because it was so easy to impress her with it. She beamed at him when the first record removed itself from its sleeve and dropped itself on the record player, which then also began to play by itself.

In addition to sweets, Sirius and Remus had also brought a lot of alcohol between them. This was a twenty-first birthday celebration, after all, and the drinking started with immediate effect.

“Did you call the boy from the shop?” Sirius asked, sidling up to her with a glass of rum for himself and a white wine for her. Flora took the drink with thanks and shook her head.

“No,” she said. She wanted to add ‘not yet’ but Regulus was standing beside her, half involved in the conversation by default. She didn’t know if Remus knew about the note, but Sirius only brought it up the second Remus disappeared upstairs to the toilet, so she figured not.

“He was asking about you.”

“Was he?” Flora asked a little too quickly.

“I told him you’d gone back to Wales,” Sirius nodded.

“What did he say?” She replied, her curiosity burning.

Sirius shrugged. “Not very much, although he looked quite disappointed I’d say.”

Flora heard Regulus snort derisively under his breath. She wasn’t sure whether it was a laugh or a scoff—probably both, knowing him. She watched him from the corner of her eye as he went over to the coffee table to pour himself a drink.

Sirius eyed Regulus, then leaning closer to Flora and speaking in a very low voice, he asked, “Reg didn’t go out that night too, did he?”

“No,” she replied, looking at her drink and then quickly taking a large sip. Regulus returned to her side and cut the conversation to an end.

The party was soon going. Flora gave Sirius the knitted dog she'd made, which he couldn’t stop looking at, in awe of the fact she’d made it without magic. And then the fire whiskey was brought out and Sirius was soon more drunk than Flora had ever seen before; like on Flora’s birthday, he danced with her, twirled her around like a doll in a music box. She remembered how she’d loved this last time, thrilled to be in his arms, but now she felt quite different about it. For one, she noticed how his eyes often wandered over to Remus, who sat back watching and drinking quietly. It was as though the weight of the ‘secret’ kept Sirius anchored to her, as a way to hold him back from displaying his true feelings. He clung to her like a shield, almost erratic with this façade he was fighting to hold up. Flora yearned to tell him she knew and that it was okay.

The second thing was Regulus. Regulus was more animated than he had been at her party; he was splayed out on the floor at ease, eating sweets and half talking to Sirius, even sometimes laughing with him. Like Sirius though, his eyes were always on something else, and that was Flora.

He found he minded less that Flora was dancing with Sirius, for the time being anyway. He kept watching Sirius to ensure his hands stayed where they should. He wanted to dance with her himself, but pride firmly held him back. He didn’t want Sirius and Remus—particularly Sirius—to know he was fond of Flora. If fond was the right word to use; he was more than fond of her, if he was completely honest with himself. But he couldn’t let anyone else know that. Flora tried to pull him to his feet once or twice, wanting to dance, but he coolly resisted and she soon gave up.

So he remained a silent observer, guarded, but largely indifferent until Sirius reached towards Flora’s neck and held her necklace between his fingers, his head leaning in close to hers. Regulus had noticed she was wearing a new necklace, but had never wondered where it came from. Girls usually had copious amounts of jewellery, after all.

“You like it then?” Sirius asked her, swaying unsteadily on his feet.

“Mhm,” Flora smiled, nodding. “Thank you. It’s very pretty.”

As she lifted her face to look at him, it brought their noses closer. Sirius looked at her with a lazy smile. “Just like you,” he said.

“Oh, I bet you say that to all the girls,” Flora giggled, equally as unsteady and grabbing his arm for balance.

“Only the very beautiful ones.”

“And Remus,” she said before she could stop herself.

Sirius’ smile faltered, evidently surprised by the statement. The equally surprised look on Flora’s face at once revealed she felt she had misstepped and said something she shouldn’t have. Remus snatched a glance at Sirius, and Regulus sat up like he was expecting a very good live soap opera.

“I mean,” Flora began, confused, “Remus is also very beautiful because he takes after me.”

“You mean you take after me, you numpty,” Remus put in, quickly trying to quell the awkwardness that had descended upon them.

“That's what I said,” Flora frowned.

“Of course,” Sirius said with a laugh. “Remus is very handsome.”

“Why don’t you buy him pretty necklaces then?” Regulus interjected snarkily, “And dance with him?”

Sirius’ smile grew tight as he narrowed his eyes on his brother. Before he could reply, Remus cut in—

“Regulus, why don’t you keep your nose out of things for a change?”

“Oh, he can’t help that,” Flora said lightly, trying to brighten the mood before it completely went out. She moved away from Sirius to sit down beside Regulus on the floor, taking the box of Every Flavour Beans from his hands to help herself. She nibbled on the corner of one before popping it into her mouth.

“Shall we sing Happy Birthday to you now?” She then asked Sirius.

“Yes,” Remus stood up. “I’ll go get the cake.”

“I’ll help,” Flora jumped up after him and clumsily followed her brother into the kitchen.

Two separate conversations in low voices ensued. Sirius, direly warning his brother to shut the fuck up, and Flora as she attempted to broach the truth with Remus. She watched him count out twenty-one candles, but she could tell from the way his hands were shaking that he was agitated.

“Are you alright?” Flora asked, leaning across the counter on her elbow.

Remus shot her a small, brief smile. “Yeah… just—just it’s the full moon soon.”

Flora’s inhibitions were loose and Remus had nearly put the last of the candles in place. If she wanted to speak, she had to do it now.

“I do know, Remus,” she said quietly, never taking her eyes off him.

He didn’t look at her as he replied with an air of nonchalance. "Know what?”

“About you and Sirius,” she said, and then added in Welsh, “You love him.”

Remus went still, the last candle poised between his fingers. Remus rarely spoke in Welsh anymore, but hearing this he at once switched over to avoid their conversation being overheard in the other room.

“How long have you known?” He asked stiffly.

Flora shrugged. She didn’t want to tell him the whole truth, knowing how he despised Regulus. “I figured it out. And when I was staying in London, it was more obvious.”

Remus had gone rather pale. “Flora—”

“And it’s okay with me,” she put in quickly, “but why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Remus let out a long, slow breath. Her tone of acceptance had surprised him, but he was not particularly glad to be having this conversation. He wasn’t ready for it.

“I was worried about how you’d react,” he replied finally. “Not many people know… you know how people react to-to…” 

“Does James and Lily know?” she pushed on, her heart sinking. 

“Yes.”

“And Peter?”

“Yes, but he’s kind of weird about it.” 

Flora looked hurt. “So they know, but you couldn’t tell me?”

Remus’ expression softened as he saw the hurt in his sister’s eyes. He sighed, looking away for a moment, then turned his eyes back to her face. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, Flora. I just…I wasn’t sure you would understand.”

“What wouldn’t I understand?”

“I mean, you’re so sheltered and—”

“That’s hardly my fault,” she objected indignantly.

“No, I know,” he said quickly. “I know.”

“You keep me here. I should be at university and going out and meeting all kinds of people,” she ran on over her words, her voice slowly rising and cracking. She hadn't meant to cry, but her eyes were welling up with hot tears. She hated that she always cried when her emotions were wound up. Being drunk only made her cry more.

“Flora, please don’t cry,” Remus said, his eyes wide and apologetic.

“And you won’t let me do anything! You won’t let me go anywhere.”

“Sori am fod yn dwpsyn… I’m sorry… I know… I’m sorry…” he gently pulled her into his arms, letting her bury her face against his chest. “I should’ve told you.” 

Sirius came into the room with a worried look on his face, flanked by Regulus looking somewhat sheepish. He knew very well he had contributed to this mess. One look from Remus told Sirius what was going on. Sirius, however, from not understanding their conversation assumed Flora had taken it badly.

“Flora…” Sirius tried gently, approaching her hesitantly. His hand hovered over her shoulder, uncertain whether she would allow him to touch her.

Regulus stood back by the door, watching on in guilty silence. He’d spoken out of bitterness, irritated by Sirius’ blatant and careless flirtation with Flora, and hadn’t intended to bring things to this level of escalation. Flora held tight to Remus, her eyes red and wet, staring at the floor.

“Why don't you tell me things? Either of you?” Flora finally said in a small voice, addressing both Sirius and Remus. “You treat me like I can’t understand anything.”

“This is…it’s complicated, Flora,” Remus said carefully.

“Is it?” Flora lifted her head. “Of all the things you avoid telling me, this is the simplest one to understand and accept. Why did you never tell me? Did you think I’d be angry? Even Regulus knew.”

Remus’ brow furrowed. “How did you know Regulus knew?”

Sirius glanced at his startled brother, frowning. “Because he told her. I knew he did.”

“He did, but he didn’t tell me it out of malice,” Flora said, wiping at her face and moving back from Remus. “Don’t be angry with him. Please. I don't want to spoil the evening even more having you two shouting at him.”

Remus sighed softly and rubbed his face. Everybody was a little drunk.

“We’ll talk about this another day,” he said.

A silence fell over the group. For a long moment, nobody knew what to say, what to do. Flora wiped at her eyes, her gaze fixed on the floor; Regulus likewise stared at the floor, and Sirius and Remus looked at each other. 

Finally, Sirius’ eyes wandered to his birthday cake, which only needed the candles lighting.

“The cake looks really nice. Thank you, Flora,” he said, smiling gently. His eyes then moved over to Regulus and he added, “And Reg.”

Flora nodded, sniffling. She smiled back weakly. Regulus said nothing.

“Aren’t you going to light the candles for me?” He asked next, his tone cheerful, desperately trying to restore the carefree joy that had been there ten minutes earlier. “You’re only twenty-one once.”

The dark mood cleared as Remus lit the candles with his wand and they all moved back into the living room to sing Happy Birthday to Sirius. Even Regulus quietly joined in. He sat next to Flora with his leg against hers, casting her a reassuring glance while Remus and Sirius cut the cake. Flora, whose hand was resting on her thigh, slowly and discreetly moved her fingers to brush against Regulus’ fingers. He looked at her sidelong with a small, barely perceptible smile on his lips.

They were just about to begin eating their cake, pretending to forget about what had happened, when Flora shrieked in alarm, pulling her legs up and backing into the sofa like a mouse had run over her feet. A transparent, silver-blue stag elegantly leapt through the window and circled the room above their heads before landing delicately in the centre in the room. A patronus; a message. From its mouth came the voice of James Potter—

“Sirius, Remus: the Order needs you here immediately. Don’t bring Regulus.”

It was a short message, and the stag patronus dissolved quicker than it had arrived. Regulus, at once indignant, scowled and demanded the empty air, “Why don’t bring Regulus?” He then looked at Sirius and Remus, who were already jumping to action, ignoring his question.

Flora stood up, confused and dismayed. Above all, outraged.  “You’re leaving?”

“I’m sorry, Flo,” Remus said, touching her arm. Sirius stood at his side, looking even more apologetic.

“Don’t let Reg eat all the food,” Sirius said, still trying to be upbeat. “We’ll come back tomorrow if we can. I’m sorry, Flo. I know you worked so hard, it’s been really lovely.”

”But why?” She demanded. 

“That’s what we need to go and find out,” Remus replied. 

Flora folded her arms and stood back sullenly. She felt suddenly like crying again and bit the inside of her cheek, glad for the moment that Regulus was kicking up a fuss to take the attention away from her.

“Why can’t I come?” He trailed his brother into the kitchen.

“Regulus,” Sirius said in irritation, “I heard exactly the same message you did. It wasn’t whispering any additional secrets in my ear. I don’t know.”

“Let me come anyway.”

“No,” he replied, putting his jacket on. “Stay with Flora.”

“Or how about we bring Flora?”

“No!” Sirius and Remus said in sharp unison.

“If you want to help, stay here,” Sirius reiterated. “That’s your job, remember?”

Regulus scoffed. “Job? Feels more like weak pacification.”

“We were specifically told not to bring you, Regulus,” Remus put in shortly. “So stay here and look after my sister.” He briefly swept back into the living room to hug Flora, though she kept her arms folded and wouldn’t look at him when he kissed her cheek. Likewise when Sirius came to do the same and thank her again for the party, she remained stubbornly silent. She knew it was a little childish, but she didn’t care. She'd worked so hard. 

Regulus, as soon as they’d gone, skulked back into the living room with a dark scowl on his face. “Said they trusted me, the lying bast—” he stopped. The already fragile dam had broken and tears were rolling down Flora’s cheeks. Regulus went to her at once, placing his hands on her bent arms, which she then unfolded to wrap around his neck. Regulus, in turn, wrapped his arms around her slender frame and held her close. He rubbed his hand up and down her back in a soothing motion as her body wracked with heartbroken sobs.

“Flora,” he murmured, wanting to comfort her but unsure of what to say. He wasn’t very good at expressing himself when it came to her. He cared so deeply for her, but speaking the words that conveyed this was like stringing together words in a language he was still learning. He cleared his throat softly, hesitated a moment, then simply said, “Don’t cry.”

“I worked so fucking hard,” She said in a choked voice. “They don’t care—they just care about that stupid Order. Like—like their whole lives are devoted to it.”

“I know,” he continued to rub circles on her back. “I know… it’s a difficult time though.”

Flora just sniffled, so he added, “They said they’ll come back tomorrow.”

“It won’t be the same,” she replied quietly. She lifted her face to look at him; mascara was running down her cheeks, and her nose was red. “It’s not just about the party though… it’s—it’s the way they treat me like a child, like I’m too young to understand anything. Even their relationship. I'm so sick of it all.”

“I know, but they’re scared,” he said softly, pushing her hair back behind her ears. “Everybody is scared right now with what’s going on. Your brother does some really dangerous work, and it’s not just a threat to him, but to you too. Greyback will look for any weakness to exploit. You’re part of the equation, unfortunately.”

“I’m just a muggle.”

“You’re Remus Lupin’s sister. You’re a leverage opportunity if they get their hands on you… or paws, I suppose,” he said with a small smile.

Flora let out a small laugh, wiping her eyes. She took a breath. “I must look a mess.”

“No,” he shook his head. “You don’t.” 

She held onto him for another long moment, resting her head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat and the crackle of the fire in the background. The music was still playing, but it was indistinct as she’d turned it down when Sirius and Remus left.

“What do we do now?” Flora murmured. She glanced at the clock over his shoulder. “It’s only nine o’clock.”

“Keep drinking?”

Flora lifted her head from his chest and held her hands in his, kissed him softly, and nodded as she felt slightly cheered by this suggestion. “They did leave the fire whiskey…”

Regulus smirked, gripping her hips. “So we should finish it off.”

“I’m just going to fix my face first though,” she said, stepping back.

She disappeared up to her room for some five or ten minutes, then reappeared with a clean, tear-free face and fresh eyeliner. Regulus, meanwhile, had already helped himself to another glass of fire whiskey and poured Flora a glass of wine. They sat together in front of the fire, facing one another with their knees touching. Within the next twenty minutes, they were stretched out on the floor together, Flora resting her head on his chest and drawing invisible pictures with her finger on his bare stomach. His t-shirt had been pushed up to his chest.

“Okay, okay, what’s this one?” She traced a circle around his belly button and then more circles around it, her face set in concentration. When she’d finished, she looked at him expectantly.

“A flower.”

“How do you keep getting them right?” She frowned.

He ran his hand through her hair idly, his mind hazy and slow. “Because they’re so bad,” he smirked, “They're obvious.”

She huffed and pouted, then sat up on her elbow to begin another invisible drawing. “Okay, try this one,” she proceeded to trace lines and shapes across his warm skin, shapes that Regulus couldn’t hold in his mind as she kept crossing and circling back over. He frowned in confusion. Flora looked triumphant.

“Can you guess? Bet you can’t.”

He shook his head. “Go on.”

“Botticelli, the Birth of Venus,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “What? The version painted by an absolute nutter?”

Flora lay her head back down on his chest, draping her arm across him. “I’m surprised you know that painting.”

“I’m not completely ignorant of muggle culture.”

“You know Botticelli but not how to work a toaster?”

“Oi, I can work the toaster, thank you very much,” he replied, sitting up a little so he could pull her on top of him.

“If you like cremated toast, I suppose it counts,” she said, now straddling him. She caught hold of his hands and leaned down to kiss him. His hands were resting below her hips and he returned her kiss eagerly, digging his fingers into her soft thighs. As their kisses grew more heated, so did Flora’s curiosity. She shifted her position slightly so that she was centre with the hard bulge in his trousers, and rolled her hips down on him, eliciting a moan from Regulus’ lips.

“Flora—” he breathed out, “Fuck, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” She murmured back, her lips whispering over his.

Regulus closed his eyes, letting his head tilt back against the carpet as she ground down on him harder.

“Don’t tease me,” he finally managed to say, grabbing her hips sharply to still her movements.

“But don’t you like it?” She kissed him lightly and then sat up, her hands resting on the centre of his chest.

He looked at her through half-closed eyes for a moment, then lifted himself onto his elbows. “Yes, I do like it,” he replied, sitting up properly now so he was face-to-face with her.

Flora looked at him for a moment, but then her relaxed, content expression slipped into a look of mild hurt. “Oh,” she sighed, drawing back.

Regulus frowned, confused by the sudden shift in mood. “What?”

“It’s because I’m a muggle.”

“What? Flora, no,” he said, his frown deepening. He cradled her cheek against his hand, rubbing his thumb over her skin. “No, that’s not it at all.”

“Then what is it?” She asked.

“Well,” he paused, considering his next words. He was unsure how Flora would take it, to be told her inexperience made him hesitate. “I don’t exactly know how much—how much experience you have. I’m guessing not much.”

Flora stared at him for a moment, her expression a mixture of confusion and irritation. “So your problem is that I’ve never had sex?”

“I’m not saying it’s a problem,” he replied. “It’s just, and feel free to correct me, but I feel you’re in a rush to do things simply for the sake of doing things. If I went along with it, I’d feel like I’m taking advantage.”

Flora didn’t correct him, but she still regarded him with irritation. When she didn’t speak, he continued—

“I care about you,” he admitted in a quiet voice, as though it were a great secret. “You’ve been stuck in this house for Merlin-knows-how-long, never seeing anyone except your brother and Sirius, and you’ve been left behind. I don’t want you to do things out of some kind of urgency. If we’re going to do anything, I want to be sure you really want to do it.”

“I do want to.”

“We’re also a little drunk,” he added, kissing the corner of her mouth.

Her expression softened and she sat back on her heels, lowering her gaze. She then lifted her eyes to his again, frowning. “I get what you’re saying, Regulus, but to hell with it. I know myself. I don’t need a lecture. I might not be ready for sex, but I want to try…other things.”

Regulus exhaled slowly, his eyes on hers. “Alright,” he said slowly, moving his hand down her arm. “Like what?”

“Like…like the things you wrote in that letter.”

Regulus looked at her for a long moment, amused. “Pity I don’t remember what I wrote,” he smirked.

Flora smacked his arm playfully. “Yes, you do. I’m sure you’ll never live it down.”

“Only because you’ll never let me live it down,” he groaned, rubbing his face. “It’s humiliating.”

She caught hold of his hands as he pulled them away from his face. “I want to do those things though,” she said in a lower voice. “I want to do them with you.”

Regulus knew he would be a fool to argue with her. He lay back down, pulling Flora down with him. His mouth found hers once again and kissed her deeply, his hand cradling the back of her head. Their tongues and hot breath mingled together; they both tasted and smelled faintly of fire whiskey, a scent that lingered on their skin and breath. They were at intoxicated ease, but felt oddly sober at the same time.

Flora let Regulus take the lead. He touched her breast over her dress, then moved his hand down to the hem of her dress and pushed his hand up underneath it, touching the bare skin of her stomach for the first time. Flora was small in frame and stature, but just how small she felt against him was a surprise to Regulus. 

“Is this alright?” He murmured against her mouth.

“Yes,” she breathed. “You—you can go higher.”

Her dress was loose on her body, so he was easily able to move his hand up higher to touch her over her bra. His fingers skimmed along the edge of the lace and swell of her breast, caressing her. Flora sighed into his mouth, pushing herself down on him like she had earlier, getting as close to him as she could get. Her hand, which was resting on his chest, then slowly trailed down to the top of his trousers and wandered, at first lightly, over the hard bulge. She lifted her hips slightly to do this.

Regulus made a soft sound, something like an intake of breath. Flora then pressed her hand against him more firmly, feeling the shape of his cock. She paused in her kissing, glancing down; she hadn’t expected it to feel so thick. Regulus looked at her, noticing the surprise on her face; he followed her gaze, and then watched as she fumbled to undo his trousers. When she had done this, she paused, uncertain and looked to him for some guidance. Regulus took her hand and gently guided it, letting her feel him through his underwear, and she rubbed her hand up and down his full length. She paused and then tentatively wrapped her fingers around the head of his cock, feeling the wetness that had seeped through the fabric of his underwear. The pressure of her hand made him moan under his breath.

Flora lifted her eyes to look at him again. She’d never seen such an expression as the one that was presently on Regulus’ face.

“Does…does that feel good?” She asked quietly.

Regulus pushed himself up into her hand a little more, nodding. “Yes,” he said.

She kept rubbing for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face. Regulus was about to ask her what she was thinking when she said aloud, “It feels really big.”

He smirked, letting out a small laugh through his nose. “Well, I’m certainly not going to argue with that.”

Flora smiled and moved her hand away to the waistband of his underwear. “Can I…”

Regulus again nodded, swallowing thickly in anticipation. Flora shifted her position slightly, moving so she was sitting just above his knees, and then tugged his underwear down below his hips. She looked at his penis for a moment, her eyes wide, interested. She’d seen penises before in anatomy textbooks, and she’d seen her brother’s, but she'd never seen one like this: hard, veiny. She took it in her hand and gave it a slow, experimental stroke. Regulus let his head fall back and shut his eyes tight for a moment, letting out a breath through his mouth.

“Is that right?” she asked.

Regulus opened his eyes and nodded. He then took hold of his cock himself, covering Flora’s hand, and moved it up and down in a few languid strokes. “Just like that,” he murmured, releasing his hold and letting Flora take the lead again.

His reaction spurred her on as she slid her closed hand up and down the length of his cock. She liked how it felt in her hand; she was surprised by how soft and velvety the skin was. She watched the action of her wrist for a long moment, then looked at Regulus’ contented, half-lidded expression. Emboldened, she shifted her body lower until she was positioned between his legs; Regulus opened his eyes to see what she was doing, barely having a moment to react before she dipped down to kiss the head of his already dripping cock.

“Fuck—Flora,” he gasped out. He obviously hadn’t expected it.

She did it again, then pressed her tongue to it before taking more of it into her mouth. Regulus threaded his fingers through her hair, pushing his hips up. She kept moving her hand up and down as she sucked, taking in as much of him as she could. In his letter, and in his mind, he had imagined Flora to be the one writhing, and yet here he was writhing under her. She was good at it—surprisingly good. Regulus knew he wouldn’t last long.

Flora lifted her head to meet his eyes, still stroking him with her hand. “Is it still good?” She asked. “Am I doing it right?”

Regulus sat up, his eyes misty with pleasure. He reached for her and found the zip on the back of her dress, which he tugged down impatiently while briefly meeting her lips to kiss her. He needed to see more of her. Flora quickly understood and pulled her dress off herself, leaving her in a white lace bra and black tights. His hands wandered over the curve of her breasts, over the shadow of her nipples which he could see through the lace, while she moved her mouth back down to his cock. She tried to take more of him, pushing him as far back into her throat as she could. She’d read this in a romance novel she definitely shouldn’t have been reading at fourteen, but the knowledge served her well now.

Regulus let out a choked gasp. “Flora,” he grabbed her hair again, pushing his fingers through it. His eyes were fixated on her mouth, then her encased breasts, and the shape of her slender legs. She kept going. Regulus moved one of his hands from her hair down to her breast; her bra strap had fallen down her shoulder, and Regulus slid his hand under the lace to feel her breast without any covering. It fitted in his hand perfectly; he squeezed gently, rubbing her nipple with his thumb.

Regulus felt he could sob from the pleasure she was giving him in this moment. Her mouth was hot, wet. Her tongue seemed to move instinctively,  knowing exactly how to elicit a reaction in him. She’d figured him out completely. 

“Fuck, Flora—I’m going to—”

She briefly raised her eyes to look at him, but she didn’t draw back. She tightened her grip slightly, moved faster, and shut her eyes as he came in her mouth. She made a stifled choking sound, but kept her lips locked around his cock. She felt it twitching in her hand. She swallowed quickly, unsure of what else to do, and pulled her mouth away. Something in her expression gave her the appearance of being surprised. 

Regulus was breathing heavily; his curls, now damp, were stuck to his forehead in places. He kept his eyes shut for a moment as he tried to compose himself, and Flora wiped her mouth, touching her lips which were now tingling oddly.

“Did I do it right?” She asked when he still didn’t speak.

Regulus let out a low breath. He opened his eyes and sat up, reaching for her. “Come here.”

Flora quickly crawled back up to him and lay down on her side. Regulus pulled her close and kissed her forehead as she curled up to his chest.

“How the hell did you know to do that?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Swallow.”

“Well,” she frowned, feeling suddenly defensive, “If I hadn’t, it would’ve been messy.”

“Do you forget I’m a wizard?” He said. “I could clean it in seconds.”

“Was I not supposed to have swallowed it?” She sounded suddenly worried.

“No, no, I’m just surprised you did, that’s all,” he replied, tickling her back gently. He yawned and kissed her on the head again. “It was really good.”

Flora felt oddly embarrassed. She lay with her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as a silence fell over them. He continued to tickle her back, his hand wandering lower sometimes until his hand stilled and she heard soft little snores coming from him. She lifted her head slightly, frowning a little as she discovered he really was asleep. Disappointment and indignation settled in her stomach. She’d thought there would be more.

She looked at him for a moment, simply observing him. Irritated as she was, he looked so peaceful and content, and she  felt a glowing sense of pride that she was the cause of it. She brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead and traced her fingers over the contours of his jaw. Regulus stirred, opened his eyes again sleepily.

“Shall we go to bed?” Flora suggested, beginning to feel uncomfortable on the rug.

Regulus nodded wordlessly. It took him a minute to sit up so he could adjust himself and fasten his trousers up. Flora stood up and tended to the fire, which had burned to orange embers, and waited for him to follow her. He rubbed at his eyes, blinking slowly as Flora picked up her dress, took him by the hand, and led him freely to her bedroom.

She was tired now too, and felt more tired as soon as they settled down in her bed together. Regulus wrapped his arms around her and kissed her gently.

“Tomorrow…” he mumbled incoherently.

“Mm?”

But he had fallen asleep.

Chapter Text

Twenty-Two

❦

Making love with you

Has left me peaceful, warm, and tired

What more could I ask

There's nothing left to be desired

Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak

- The Air That I Breathe, The Hollies

Flora awoke late the following morning. Half dizzy and thirsty, wondering vaguely why she had slept in her underwear, she had forgotten Regulus was there next to her until she felt his leg brush against hers. In fact, as she stirred, he did also; he rolled onto his side and into Flora’s back, wrapping an arm around her waist. It took Flora a moment to realise his erection was pressed up against her leg, and with that a recollection of last night flooded her mind.

It wasn’t quite guilt or regret, but a feeling of disbelief and embarrassment that curdled her stomach. Everything she knew about boys and sex was muddled in her her mind. Her brother’s protective warnings came back to her—boys only want one thing. She then remembered a girl at her school—Jackie Turnbull—who was rumoured to have given boys blow-jobs and hand-jobs behind the school bins in exchange for various things. Flora never knew how much truth there was to it, but she had once overheard a conversation between Jackie and some other girls— ‘you have to go deep and swallow if you can. Boys like it if you swallow.’ Flora had felt both intrigued and disgusted, but realised now that Jackie’s words had stuck somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind. But Regulus had liked it, so clearly Jackie had been right.

But then she also wondered if Remus was right, and that was surely not good. The fact Regulus had fallen asleep immediately after only unsettled her more; she felt discarded, used, and yet she knew she would do it again simply because she didn’t want him to lose interest in her.

Flora turned to face Regulus, slowly waking him as she curled up closer to his bare chest—she wondered at what point he had taken his shirt off, because she remembered him wearing it when they came into her room. He was just in his underwear, like her. Regulus tightened his hold on her and nuzzled his chin on top of her head, yawning. Flora wasn’t entirely sure why, but she had expected him to move away, to jolt back like he’d woken up with something that was now hideous in the sobriety of the morning light. But he didn’t; he held her tenderly close. Flora pretended to still be asleep, but she could tell from his breathing that Regulus was fully awake and probably going over his own thoughts from last night.

He kissed the top of her head. Flora’s heart fluttered, endeared because Regulus thought she was sleeping and had kissed her anyway. Maybe he did like her, then. It made the feelings of embarrassment and uncertainty melt away at once. She stayed still, listening to his heartbeat, a soft cough as he cleared his throat, swallowing, the sound of his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down. She took in a breath through her nose, breathing in the smell of his skin—musk, sweat, cologne, and a faint scent of fire whiskey. Likewise, Regulus breathed her in, feeling a peculiar sense of peace as he held her in his arms. 

Finally, Flora pretended to be just waking up and lifted her face to look at him through half lidded eyes, sleepily searching for his lips. Regulus quickly met them. They both knew they didn’t smell particularly fresh, but neither cared.

“Good morning,” Regulus murmured in a gravelly voice.

“Morning,” she replied softly, wrapping her leg around his and pulling herself closer. She didn’t think she could ever get close enough to Regulus. His penis, shameless and proud, was still pressed against her thigh. She wanted suddenly to touch it again. But Regulus was already touching her, trailing his fingers down her back, over the top of her thighs, her hips.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep last night,” he said in a low voice. “I am so sorry.”

He sounded almost mortified, as though he had forgotten his dinner manners and done something terribly rude. Flora’s previous doubts melted away entirely, replaced instead with relief and a willingness to forgive.

“I must have really done something good,” she joked lightly. “To knock you out like that.”

She felt his lips twitch upwards in a smile as he kissed her. “Mhm,” he agreed, “I don’t know what you did, but it was incredible.”

He moved his hands back up and cradled the sides of her head between them as he continued to press kisses to her mouth. Flora sighed softly, her hands wandering over the planes of his chest; she tried to avoid touching the scars on his shoulders and torso, but he didn’t seem to mind whenever her fingers drifted over them. Her hand slid down lower and slipped into his underwear, making him groan as she began to rub his stiff cock in her small hand. In doing this, she felt her own arousal building, and Regulus very quickly reciprocated the favour she was doing him by slipping his hand between her thighs.

He at first only touched her over her knickers, breaking their kiss for a moment to look at her and ask again, “Is this okay?”

Flora nodded. She felt that every time he asked this, he was really asking both her and himself if what they were doing was okay. Flora was perfectly okay with being touched; she craved it, desired it above anything else, but Regulus’ touch was always with trepidation, a question of consent, doubts, always with the utterance, is this okay? Is it okay that I touch you? Each time he asked for permission, Flora felt there was a deeper question hidden behind it, as if he were questioning himself more than her. Propriety was one thing, and Flora appreciated the fact he asked, but she could see in his eyes that he was holding something back.

She parted her legs more for him, giving him wordless encouragement. She was still rubbing him with her hand, but he caught hold of her wrist and stilled it.

“It’s my turn, remember?” He murmured. “I fell asleep on you.”

Flora blinked. “Don’t you want me to—”

He peppered her neck with open-mouthed kisses, shook his head lazily. “As much as I enjoy it, no. I want to make you feel good.”

His hand slipped back down between her legs, rubbing her in a gentle circular motion with his finger. “You’re so wet,” he mumbled against her neck. His lips drew lower, down to her chest.

A soft gasp escaped Flora’s lips as he said this, aroused equally by his words as she was by his touch. She grasped his hair in handfuls, watching as his mouth moved to kiss her nipples over the fabric of her bra.

“Take this off,” he muttered. His free hand was touching the white bow in the centre between her breasts, which then drifted to the straps and then sides as he tried to work it out himself.

Flora sat up a little, reaching behind her to unclasp it. “It unfastens at the back,” she mumbled a little pointlessly.

As soon as she’d slipped it off and tossed it aside, both his hands and his mouth were on her naked breasts. He kissed and sucked on her nipples, eliciting a low, drawn out breath from Flora. She was half-sitting up, propped up against her pillow, and Regulus was on his side. He moved his mouth away and lifted his eyes to meet hers. She looked down, first at his eyes and then at her flushed nipples where he’d been kissing her.

“Lay back,” he instructed, sitting up on his knees.

Flora slid down so she was on her back, watching him intently as he settled between her legs, his arms on either side of her. She brought her hands up to feel the small, defined muscles of his forearms, then wrapped her arms around his neck as he dipped down to kiss her on the mouth. His tongue slipped into her mouth, moving with hers slowly.

This was no fantasy. It was real, and the reality of it was jarring to both of them when they thought about what they were doing. Regulus knew he was lost; he had fallen for this girl and it gave him immense pleasure to see the curious delight on her beautiful, flushed face as he moved down, kissing her navel, her thighs, until he was down between her legs. Without asking, he hooked his fingers under the sides of her knickers and pulled them down; Flora sat up on her elbows, speaking suddenly, her voice low and urgent.

“Take off your underwear too,” she said. They must be equals in this space, even if Regulus did decide to abandon her later.

Regulus gave her a lopsided little smirk and sat back on his heels to rather awkwardly tug his boxers off. His cock stood up amongst a shadow of dark hair. When they were both naked, he got back down between her open thighs. She was wet, spread, yielding to him. For a moment, Regulus simply admired her, teasing her clit with his fingers. Flora gasped out; her whole body felt pleasantly warm, as if it were glowing with her desire.

“You look lovely like this, darling,” he murmured.

“Regulus—”

He’d called her darling once before simply to rile her up, but she’d had clothes on that time and she’d been angry with him. Her response though, just like before, was to flush to her ears, and this time she had no desire to deflect his attention.

He resumed his gentle caressing kisses along her inner thigh, his hands stroking her skin teasingly. And then he brought his tongue to her cunt, licking in one long, slow motion before bringing his attention to the little bundle of nerves waiting in anticipation of his tongue. Flora’s hand flew back to his hair, which she grasped tightly by the fist as she melted against his mouth. She had never felt anything like this.

“Regulus,” she gasped out his name again. “Oh my god.”

He softly pressed his fingers into her thighs, holding her in place, and kept going as the pleasure unfurled and blossomed in Flora’s belly. It felt like a coil slowly getting tighter and tighter. She opened her eyes for a moment to watch him, and saw that he was also pleasuring himself as he ravished her with his tongue. His hand was moving up and down, his wrist twisting slightly.

She was riding her pleasure to the top now, knowing any moment she was going to go over the edge. She kept grasping, pulling at his hair, whimpering his name. Regulus lifted his eyes to look at her, admiring her flushed face, her fluttering eyelids.

“Use your fingers,” she breathed out, opening her eyes.

Regulus looked slightly surprised for a moment, then began to gently circle her entrance with the fingers of his free hand.

“No,” Flora moaned, “Put them in.”

“In?”

She nodded. Regulus obeyed, sliding one finger in as he continued to lick and suck her clit. She so was warm, so wet. He pushed only half his finger in, hesitant to push deeper for fear of hurting her. But Flora pushed herself down onto his finger, wanting more. Her sudden movement momentarily caused Regulus to stop, as he lost his rhythm, but he quickly resumed, then added a second finger and moved them in and out, curling them slightly every time he pushed back in. He was so focused on the mouth and finger gymnastics he was doing that he stopped pleasuring himself for the moment, intent only on bringing Flora to orgasm. She was fast approaching the release she needed.

“Regulus,” she reached down and touched his jawline, his cheek, making him lift his face. Her expression implored him to move back up to kiss her; without removing his fingers from inside her, he came back up and kissed her deeply. Flora could taste herself on his mouth. As he kissed her mouth and fingered her, she brought her hand back down to his cock and fucked him into her fist.

“Oh, fuck—” Regulus moaned softly, cupping her face with his hand. “Come for me, darling… I want to see your face when you come.”

Flora shut her eyes, resting her cheek in the palm of his hand. Regulus had long slim fingers, fingers which he could use to both hold her tenderly and pleasure her until she was weak. She could feel herself getting close. The walls of her cunt were twitching, and then suddenly she knew she couldn’t hold on a moment longer. Intense, perfect pleasure possessed her body, washing over her like a warm wave. The coil in her lower belly unsprung, and she cried out, feeling nothing but pure, all-consuming bliss.

Her hand had stopped caressing Regulus as she orgasmed, but he spilled out over her hand at the same time anyway. Flora never saw it happen. She only noticed the evidence of it afterwards when she glanced down at her stomach; it dripped into her belly button and down over her navel. The rest was all over his hand and glistening over his stomach.

Neither spoke for a long moment. They simply held one another, gathering their senses and breath, and then Regulus planted a small kiss on Flora’s forehead. He felt utterly undone, both in mind and body; his thoughts moved slowly, like molasses, when he was gripped with a sudden, wild urge to tell Flora that he loved her. It was a jarring thought, one which he abruptly stamped out and vehemently pushed far away. It unnerved him, though he remained still and silent, his heart twisting as he held her. It was all just hormones, he told himself. Love hormones, pheromones. The problem was, however, he’d never felt like this before with anyone.

They fell asleep, entangled in each other’s legs and arms, and slept until after lunch. In retrospect, it was a risky, foolish thing to do when Sirius and Remus had a habit of entering the house unannounced—and Remus in particular had a bad habit of barging into Flora’s room. They were undisturbed though.

When they awoke again, it was with a feeling of hunger. For some minutes, they were both too lethargic and too hungry to move, waiting in vain for the other to get up first. It was Flora who finally, stretching and sitting up, made the first welcome suggestion—

“Cup of tea?” She rubbed her face and yawned into her arm.

“Mmm,” he grunted softly. Regulus was lying on his stomach with his arm lazily draped over her waist.

Flora climbed out of bed, feeling a little self-conscious as she was naked, and quickly sought out her nightie. Regulus opened his eyes as she did this, intrigued to see her whole body without the shroud of intimacy. He was seeing her as she was, just as Flora—the bruise on her knee, the brown mole under her left breast, the soft, pale hairs on her thighs and the dark hair between her legs. She had a pink birthmark at the top of her leg, just below her hip, and a faint scar behind her ear.

In Regulus’ experience, witches used simple charms to rid themselves of blemishes,  whether that be unwanted freckles, moles, scars, or birthmarks. It had become the done thing since the time muggles had burned and hanged witches. Accused muggles had stood no chance. Flora's visible imperfections reminded him she was just that: a muggle, and a sharp contrast to the magical elegance of his world. She was blemished, imperfect. A muggle—but somehow, he felt, she was still beautiful. The previous feeling he had pushed aside while holding her suddenly resurfaced, and he had to look away, utterly confused.

Flora knelt back down on the bed and kissed him. “Will you come downstairs too?”

He nodded, slowly sitting up. “Give me five minutes.”

Flora gave him plenty of time as she went into the bathroom, leaving Regulus with his thoughts. When he joined her downstairs, now in his pyjamas, she had made them a cup of tea and bacon sandwich each. It was half past one and already the sky was growing darker; Flora had switched the light on.

“I don’t think Remus and Sirius are coming back tonight, do you?” She said, trying to be conversational.

Regulus shrugged, at once starting to eat. He was ravenous. Flora sat down beside him and also began to eat, glancing at him sidelong every so often. She supposed his silence was due to hunger, but she grew uneasy when he wouldn’t look at her.

“It’s Bonfire Night tomorrow,” she spoke again when they had both finished eating.

This drew his attention. He frowned a little, inclining his head to look at her. “Is that the night muggles set off explosions in the sky?”

“Fireworks,” she corrected.

“Yes, I’ve never understood why,” he grumbled, sipping his tea.

"It’s to celebrate the failure of the Gunpowder Plot. Guy Fawkes and that.”

Regulus was clearly none the wiser, but he also didn’t look particularly interested, so Flora didn’t bother to explain further. She looked back down at her tea, but a moment later lifted her eyes again and fixed them on him.

“What’s the matter?” She demanded.

Regulus blinked, taken aback by her abruptness. “What? Nothing. Why?”

“You won’t look at me, and you sound upset about something.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Why won’t you look at me then?”

“I am looking at you,” he fixed his gaze on her face and turned his body towards her. He reached for her hand loosely curled around her cup, pressing his fingers into her palm. He smiled softly, but his gaze shifted to her cup.

Flora stiffened. She felt sick; a wave of shame washed over her and she quickly snatched her hand out of his grasp as she stood up to clear their plates away. Bitter tears—it was always the stupid, childish tears—stung her eyes. She fought them back, busying herself with collecting and stacking plates from the party. The reminder of this failure only made her hurt more. She had her back to Regulus whatever she did and didn’t hear him follow her, so she didn’t expect it when she felt his arms encircle her waist from behind.

“Flora,” he murmured, kissing her hair.

Flora furiously wiped at her eyes. She knew her nose had probably gone red, but there was no hiding it. She stood still, gripping the plates in both hands.

“Flora, what’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing.”

It irritated her that he had turned the situation around, to ask her what was wrong when it was him who had soured the mood with his stiff silences and glacial glances.

“Flora, put the plates down,” he said after a moment.

Her hands were trembling, but she dumped the plates back down on the coffee table and allowed Regulus to turn her around to face him. She sniffled, blinking and looking across his shoulder, up into the far corner of the room. If you looked up and blinked, it stopped the tears from falling.

Regulus rested his hands on the small of her back. “What’s the matter?”

Flora’s eyes flickered back to his and the tears poured out. “You won’t look at me,” she said in a small, choked voice.

“I’m looking at you now, aren’t I?”

“You wouldn’t look at me while we were eating, you wouldn’t speak to me.”

“I’m tired,” he countered weakly. “You must be too, surely?”

“Well, yes, but I’m not treating you like—like I’m ashamed or something.”

She regretted saying it the moment the words left her mouth. She didn’t want to argue with him. Luckily, it seemed neither did Regulus, though his brow furrowed and he bit his lip as he considered his response.

“I’m not ashamed, Flora,” he said quietly. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” She prompted when he paused a beat too long.

Regulus took a deep breath thorough his nose and exhaled steadily. “I’m just confused. I’m confused. Everything I’ve ever believed in has been turned upside down.”

Flora’s eyes darkened. “You didn’t seem confused when you had your cock in my mouth, or when you were—”

“Yes, alright,” he cut her off. He brought his hand to her hair and pushed it behind her ears. “I’m sorry. Let’s not argue. I—I care a lot about you, I care a great deal. And if we go by what I’ve been taught all my life, I shouldn’t care. That’s why I’m confused.”

“But why does it matter so much to you? I have two legs and two arms like every other girl, like every other witch.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, I know. And I am trying to believe it doesn’t matter whether you have the right amount of arms or six arms.”

Flora laughed softly in spite of herself. Regulus smiled, rubbing his thumb over the corner of her lips.

“Please, Flora,” he pulled her closer, speaking in a low voice. “I’m sorry. I’m trying.”

Flora relented with a sigh and rested her head against his warm chest.

❦

Sirius and Remus didn’t come back that day, nor the next. It made Flora nervous, worrying something had happened. She was restless, irritable, waiting with the expectation of dread. The full moon was also only a few days away and she was not looking forward to a potential repeat of the last one.

“Do you want to go for a walk with me?” She asked on Bonfire evening. Regulus was in the living room, lounging in front of the fireplace, half-asleep and full from the warm meal Flora had cooked, but eating the sweets leftover from Sirius’ party. Flora already had her hat, scarf, and coat on, ready to go and fully expecting him to say yes.

“What, now?” He frowned. It was raining and dark.

“No, a week next Saturday,” Flora replied. “I’ll wait outside until you’re ready.”

Regulus rolled his eyes and sat up. “Alright. Give me a minute.”

“We might be able to see the fireworks without leaving the boundaries,” Flora said as he pulled his jumper on. "I've got sparklers anyway."

He’d slept in Flora’s bed the previous night. They both knew it was a risk, but staying apart was an impossibility. They just slept that night, Flora curled up in his arms and Regulus clinging to her even as he lay awake long after she fell asleep. It felt to Regulus that every day a new layer of himself was being pulled back, and it was not a comfortable experience.

When he set off walking with Flora, they held hands and Flora leaned in close to his arm. Though Regulus’ legs were considerably longer than Flora’s, they matched in stride; Regulus slowed down slightly to keep to her pace, letting her lead the way. The air was sharp, crisp, and smelled distinctly smoky. The rain was light and it sprayed their faces gently as they walked the small confines they were limited to, Flora seeking the best vantage point to see the fireworks below.

“What do you think is going on with Sirius and Remus?” Flora asked as they trudged down a stony path. “They said they’d come back.”

“I don't know,” he said truthfully. “Something important must’ve happened.”

Flora was quiet for a moment before she asked with trepidation, “Do you think they’re okay?”

“Someone would come here and tell us if anything bad had happened.”

“But only they know the location, don’t they? And Clementine. Remus said it’s dangerous for too many people to know.”

“Yes, but Dumbledore knows,” Regulus replied. “I doubt anyone will capture him anytime soon. Don’t worry.”

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. Below them were farms, cottages like pinpricks of light, and in the distance was the black shape of hills. Flora stopped when they reached a large wooden gate—a boundary marker for them. The gate, which was connected to a stone wall that circled a field, was the wide type they could climb up and sit on. It looked over the hills, and further below was the village, and further on from there was the coastline. Presently, the sea looked as black as the hills.

Flora let go of Regulus’ hand to climb onto the gate; Regulus followed suit, sitting beside her closely as she settled on top of it.

“Are you warm enough?” He asked, wrapping an arm around her anyway.

“Mm,” she hummed, nestling closer to him.

The night was still and Flora was already beginning to wonder if they would be able to see anything from where they were sitting. She could hear fireworks coming from one of the neighbouring villages, but couldn’t see them.

“I wish we could actually go down to the village,” Flora said. “They always do a big bonfire in the square, and there’s lots on the beach. I used to go to them with my friends, and Remus when we were little.”

Everything Flora used to do felt like decades in the past to her, like a separate life somebody else had lived, or that she had dreamed.

“Maybe we can go next year,” Regulus offered half-heartedly.

“If that stupid ugly wizard fucks off, yes,” Flora grumbled.

Regulus smirked and kissed the side of her head. “Let’s hope so.”

Flora lifted her head and looked at him. “You think you’ll still be with me then?”

Regulus blinked. “Why? Have you not much hope on me surviving a year?”

Flora smiled gently and the silly butterflies stirred in her heart again. “I meant,” she began, but a loud firework exploded in the sky in full view of them. It was gold and red, and then suddenly a dozen all went off at the same time. Flora straightened up, her face brightening.

“I knew we’d be able to see them!” she said, pleased with herself for thinking of it.

Regulus had been so startled by the sudden noise he nearly fell off the gate. He watched, mesmerised by the shimmer of colours; when he looked at Flora, he could see the lights reflected in her irises.

“I could make better fireworks with magic,” he said rather haughtily after the first round had ended.

Flora smacked his arm lightly, playfully. “Oh, don’t start. Here," she dug into her coat pocket and pulled out a packet of sparklers, "Light these then."

“I’d show you,” he shrugged, pulling out his wand. “But I don’t want to draw unwanted attention to our location.”

“Would the charm not conceal fireworks?”

“They’d fly up too high,” he shook his head. “Way out of the boundary.”

With his wand, he lit one of the sparklers. It started with a loud hiss, a small flash of white-golden light, and handed it to Flora, then lit one for himself. 

“But I thought it was like a dome,” Flora puzzled. “That’s how I’ve imagined it. Like an invisible dome around us.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “But just as you’re able to pass through it, so can magic. If I sent up fireworks, we’d be advertising our location to every werewolf and death eater in the vicinity.”

“But then why can’t the reverse be done?” Flora replied.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Can’t they fire spells in our direction and potentially hit us?” Flora waved her sparkler around like it was a wand, visibly demonstrating her point. It left a trail of light that quickly disappeared. 

“No, because they don’t know where we are.”

"But say they had a rough idea.”

“There’s defensive charms around us too,” he answered patiently. “Protego maxima, protego totalum, repello inimicum, as well as the intruder charm, security spell, everything. You brother was very thorough.”

“But then why can fireworks break through?” Flora frowned in confusion.

“Because the fireworks aren’t hostile,” he replied with a small smile. “They aren’t going to hurt us. They’re just…there. The spells around us are meant to keep hexes and curses out. Fireworks are harmless, so they would pass through. Think of the boundary like a sieve,” he went on, making a concave shape in the air with his hands as he explained. The sparkler followed the shape. “The sieve is meant to filter out harmful spells, but it doesn’t filter out random objects or things that aren’t targeted at us, like birds or leaves. Fireworks are just like that, and they would pass through the sieve without any problem.”

Flora tutted and rolled her eyes gently. “Seems like an oversight to me. If a firework was targeted at us—”

“Yes,” he cut in, “Targeted. The defensive charms stop targeted magic, and in any case a death eater isn’t likely to set off fireworks at their enemy. It’s clumsy, and they’ve been known to quite literally backfire unless they’re shot directly up into the sky.”

“Oh, alright then. I get it,” she huffed.

“You asked,” he smirked. He began to draw shapes in the air with his sparkler; swirls, circles, loops. 

“You should be a Hogwarts professor. Both you and Remus. He likes explaining things too.” Flora too began to draw shapes in the air, overlapping his. She tried to write her name before the light disappeared. 

More fireworks went off in the distance. They watched on and lit what sparklers they had left (which wasn't many, as they were what was leftover from last year), watching them glow and dance in their hands. Flora knew there would be hundreds of people gathered in the village watching the fireworks display she was watching with Regulus, but right now she was glad to be sitting where she was, alone with Regulus. Flora settled back against his arm when they had used all the sparklers, looping her arm under his and resting her head on his shoulder. He held her against him, keeping her warm with his body heat. Still, after some fifteen or twenty minutes had passed, Flora began to shiver.

“Do you want to go back yet?” Regulus looked at her.

She nodded. “I think so, yes. It’s cold.”

Flora lifted her head from his shoulder as she spoke, and Regulus kissed her briefly on the lips as they lingered near his, almost reflexively. He helped her down from the fence. They walked hand-in-hand back to the cottage.

They had only been away a short while, but Flora had held the expectation (and hope) that either Sirius or Remus would be there waiting when they returned. They usually seemed to pop up whenever she wasn’t there waiting. Nobody had been though. Flora put her pyjamas on, made hot chocolate for her and Regulus, and then they both settled down to read their books together in front of the fire—Regulus was now openly reading Pride and Prejudice in front of Flora, and had nearly finished it. Flora was reading an Agatha Christie book.

❦

Sirius came the day before the full moon—two days after Bonfire Night. By this time, Flora was wracked with anxiety and had consequently baked three cakes, an apple pie, and two loaves of bread to keep herself busy. Regulus wasn’t complaining, though he was constantly trying to calm her fears and soothe her tears at night when she cried, or else distract her with more sensual occupations.

She had just been about to start making chocolate chip cookies when Sirius arrived. She dropped everything and threw the door open before he was even on the doorstep. He had food shopping with him, floating in bags behind him, and he flashed her his usual charming smile like nothing was amiss, though there were purple shadows under his eyes and his hair, usually so tidy and perfect, looked like it needed washing.

Flora addressed him with conflicting relief and anger. “Where have you been?” she demanded at once. Regulus appeared behind her in the doorway, almost pressed against her. He narrowed his eyes on his brother.

“Sorry, Flo, I know,” Sirius replied apologetically. “There was an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency?” Both Flora and Regulus asked this same question at the same time. They both stepped aside to let Sirius and the shopping bags in.

“Nothing bad,” he said quickly. “Nobody’s hurt.”

“Where’s Remus?” Flora asked next.

Sirius used his wand to guide the shopping bags onto the kitchen counter before he looked at her and replied, “He’s resting. Was quite irritable this morning.”

Flora was not particularly pleased with the nonchalance of his attitude, not when she’d been worried out of her mind for days. She folded her arms and stood next to Regulus. “Why couldn’t you have sent us a message to tell us everything was okay? Used the mirror? I tried calling through that stupid mirror almost every hour. You told me you’d always answer it, no matter what."

Regulus looked equally irritated with his brother, but Sirius looked at him before Regulus could start on a tirade of his own.

“I know, I’m sorry. There was a lot going on, and Remus and I got busy with it all. I do, uh, I need to borrow Reg actually though,” Sirius said.

“Why?” Flora and Regulus again both spoke in unison, like they were one and the same.

Sirius seemed now to notice the way they were standing together, mirroring each other. He paused a moment, then replied lightly, “You can have him back after. If you want him back, I mean.”

“What do you need me for?” Regulus frowned.

Sirius quickly drew himself up importantly. He moved closer to his younger brother and pulled him aside to the front door, effectively blocking Flora out of the conversation as he spoke in a low voice.

“We need you to speak to somebody,” he said tersely. “I was told to bring you now.”

“Who? Why?”

Flora, as opposed to being quiet and trying to eavesdrop, made a point of making as much noise as possible by putting pans and trays away. They clattered loudly.

“Flora, can you please—-” Sirius looked over distractedly.

“What?” She glared. Her look was so cutting that it startled Sirius and at once made him back off.

“I’m going to take Reg for a few hours,” he replied.

“Can I come?” Flora folded her arms.

Sirius smiled, almost like he was about to laugh. “No, Flo. Don’t be silly.”

Flora wasn’t surprised by this answer. She turned around to continue tidying up noisily, opening cupboards, aggressively stacking the plates and then letting the cupboard door slam back loudly. She knew it wasn’t very mature, but she also knew her silent inner rage unnerved Sirius. It never worked on Remus, but Sirius would always try to reconcile with her and give away information he hadn’t meant to.

“I need Reg to speak to someone there. Someone he knows quite well,” Sirius, as she’d predicted he would, revealed.

Regulus frowned deeply, growing impatient. “Would you stop being so fucking cryptic. What difference does it make to Flora? Just tell me.”

“Your old friend,” Sirius replied, fixing his grey eyes on Regulus gravely. “Barty junior. Pleasant bloke. He broke James’ finger when we tried talking to him. Mad-Eye thinks he might talk to you though.”

Regulus stared at his brother, his expression suddenly oddly strained. “No,” he shook his head.

Sirius appeared genuinely surprised by this. “No?”

“No,” he repeated sharply, his jaw set and tense. His eyes briefly drifted over to Flora, who was observing the exchange with quiet interest.

“Why not?” Sirius frowned. “Having you there—he might talk to you. He might come to see things our way.”

Regulus scoffed derisively at his brother’s optimism. “Am I part of that our way mentality now? Last time I attended one of your meetings, I was treated like some foul disease.”

“I didn’t treat you that way,” Sirius objected quickly.

“No, but that’s how everyone else treats me. I’m surprised you’re asking me to talk to him, frankly. Is the Order not worried I’ll break him out? Run off with him?”

“Reg, we’re just asking you to do us a favour,” Sirius ran his hand through his unkempt hair, frustrated. “Honestly, I thought you might want to speak to him.”

“Why?” He frowned.

“As I recall, he was your best friend, was he not?”

Regulus folded his arms. “He thinks I’m dead.”

“Well then, won’t it be a lovely surprise for him to see you are not, in fact, dead.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Three

❦

Tears o'er a tin box
Oh, Jesus Christ, he wasn't to know
Like a chicken with a fox
He couldn't win the war with ego

- Army Dreamers, Kate Bush

Regulus left with reluctance, leaving Flora alone and simmering with indignation. She hated the way Sirius had almost laughed when she asked to come too. If he hadn’t done that, perhaps she’d have minded less, but she caught his meaning precisely.

Regulus would have rather stayed with Flora, but refusing to go with Sirius would only be delaying the inevitable. They left with some vague assurance of returning by dinner time, which was met with an icy response from Flora—that is to say, no response at all. She resumed her baking wordlessly, and turned the radio up louder.  Sirius, when they reached the end of the garden, grumbled something about Flora being just like Remus when she was in a mood.

“She has a right to be involved,” Regulus said. “It’s her problem too, this war.”

“Flora doesn’t need to be anymore involved than she already is,” Sirius answered curtly. He approached the portkey he’d left at the gate—an old copper kettle—and looked at Regulus. “Ready? I didn’t give this one a time preset because I wasn’t sure how long it would take to convince you to come.”

“Did you tell him I’m coming?”

“No,” he shrugged. “Moody might’ve briefed him while I’ve been gone though. But, Reg,” he paused a moment as he considered his next words. “You ought to know before you go that there was a confrontation between the Order and… that lot. It’s the reason he was captured in the first place. But there were others. Other people I think you knew.”

Regulus frowned. “Well, how many did you capture?”

Sirius shook his head. “Just him. I meant, and I’m not entirely sure who, but there were a few deaths.”

Regulus stiffened. The first person who rushed to his mind was Evan, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. He merely nodded, avoiding his brother’s eye.

“Let’s just go and get it over with,” Regulus mumbled.

The portkey took them to the latest headquarters somewhere in the Scottish Highlands. Meetings were constantly moving around the country. Last time Regulus came along, the Order had met in Chester in a small terraced house at some unspecified member’s home. Now he stood before a huge grey manor house surrounded by green and brown marshland; the force of the wind nearly barrelled him over, as he hadn’t expected it when he landed on his feet beside Sirius.

Beyond Sirius, the first person he saw was Clementine standing outside; she was leaning against a wall facing away from the wind, smoking a cigarette, and simply raised an eyebrow at Regulus by way of greeting. Her thick red hair looked more unkempt thanks to the Highland winds. As Sirius and Regulus walked up to the house, she pushed herself off the wall, stubbed out her cigarette and met them at the doorway.

“Whose house is this?” Regulus asked with a confused frown.

“Elphias Doge,” Sirius answered. “An old man. He’s agreed to keep your mate here for the time being.”

“And from what I’ve overheard,” Clementine put in blandly, “He’s gone on hunger strike and thrown endless abuse at the house elf.”

It took some effort to close the door once they were inside, fighting against the wind. It looked as though a storm was coming; the landscape had darkened drastically in a very short moment. Inside the house was not much lighter or warmer. In the entrance hall, a small fire was burning in the grate, and beside it was Pod sweeping up ashes.

Regulus stared a moment, surprised. He’d never thought to ask who lent Pod. He didn’t have time to dwell on this though, as he was next met with Alastor Moody lumbering into the room. Moody was an imposing, vaguely terrifying man; at the beginning of the year he’d lost one of his eyes, which had since been replaced with an artificial glass one and earned him the nickname Mad Eye on account of the way it spun around crazily. The last time Regulus had seen him, just barely a week ago, Moody had had all his nose, but now a chunk of it was missing.

“Black,” he said gruffly. Regulus wasn’t sure whether he was addressing him or Sirius. He looked stressed, tired. Everybody in the Order always seemed to look very much the same, like they were constantly close to giving up.

Sirius glanced at Regulus beside him, then back at Moody. “Shall we just take him straight up?”

Moody nodded once. “Take him up.”

Sirius proceeded to lead Regulus up a great oak staircase, followed slowly by Moody. Clementine walked up ahead of them in a rush, muttering a quick ‘excuse me,’ as she pushed past Regulus and disappeared up on the landing.

Regulus paused on the stairs and looked back at Moody. “He’s not likely to talk if you’re both in the room with me.”

“We won’t be in the room,” Moody replied abruptly, sharply. “We’ll be waiting outside the room. Precaution. May as well take your wand from you now, too.”

“What?” Regulus frowned.

Moody had by now reached Regulus and held his marred, rough hand out expectantly. “Wand. Now. You’ll get it back afterwards.”

“Why?” Regulus demanded, incredulous.

“Reg, just do as he says,” Sirius grumbled, sighing.

“Why do I need to give you my wand?”

“Another precaution,” Moody replied grimly. “I’m letting two death eaters meet in a room and—”

“Ex-death eater,” Regulus snapped, his irritation rising and willingness to help quickly dissolving.

Moody fixed his good eye on Regulus darkly, but stiffly corrected himself. “Ex-death eater. I just don’t want him getting hold of your wand."

Regulus scoffed, but he petulantly pulled his wand out and held it out for Moody to take. “I can protect my wand just fine.”

“I’m more concerned with coercion than you being physically overpowered,” he muttered back, snatching Regulus’ wand from his hand and stuffing it into his worn-out leather coat. It made Regulus, with his delicate sensibilities about cleanliness and nice, tidy clothes, inwardly cringe. They continued up the stairs until they reached a long landing.

He suddenly felt nervous, unsure of what he would be confronted with when he walked into that room. He didn’t regret what he had done, but he had regretted leaving his friends behind. Especially poor Barty. He still remembered the devastation in Barty’s eyes when Regulus showed him he’d taken the Dark Mark. And yet still Barty followed him, never wanting to be left behind, so desperately afraid of being irrelevant, and took the mark himself shortly thereafter.

“We’ll be waiting out here,” Moody said when they reached a door at the end of the hallway. Regulus had barely noticed they’d stopped.

“Listening in?” He glared.

“Just waiting.”

He turned the doorknob and threw the door open for Regulus to step in. There were no formalities, no preparatory reintroductions: he was simply allowed to stride in.

Regulus hesitated for a second. The room was small and in partial darkness; the rain that had been threatening to pour was now battering the single window, and one of the curtains looked to have been torn down. There was a great, old oak bed against the far wall; all the bedding and pillows had been thrown off it and were discarded around the room. An empty fireplace was situated in the centre, and a desk and an overturned chair stood in front of the window. At first glance, the room appeared empty. But then in the corner of his eye, somewhere by the bed, he saw movement. The door shut behind him and Regulus swallowed, stepping in further.

“Barty?”

Regulus noticed that the curtains around the bed had also been torn down. Barty, it appeared, had been under them, crouched down in the corner. He stood up shakily, emerging quite slowly, like an apparition materialising until it became solid. His hair was unkempt and his clothes rumpled. The inner corners of his eyes were red, and underneath they were a deep purple, indicating how little he’d slept as of late. This was not entirely unusual; his eyes usually were heavy from lack of sleep, fixed always on his books, his notes, his homework. Regulus had hardly ever known Barty to sleep.

His eyes looked different though now. They were wide and frightened, and it appeared as though he’d been crying a short while ago. The shock on his thin, pale face was at once all too evident.

“Regulus?” He said, his voice hoarse. “Is it really you?”

He stumbled towards Regulus, nearly tripping over the curtain pooled around his ankles. Regulus nearly recoiled, frightened suddenly by his own shame.

“I thought you were dead,” Barty went on, his voice cracking slightly. “I’m not seeing things, am I? Say something so I know you’re real.”

“I’m real,” Regulus said, his voice calm and steady. “I’m alive and I’m here.”

Barty let out a weak, strangled laugh. He came closer and reached out to grab the sleeves of Regulus’ coat, to grip his arms, to dig his fingers into him as if he were desperately trying to convince himself it wasn’t a hallucination. Regulus held him by the forearms.

“Blimey, I can’t believe it’s really you,” Barty said, a cracked smile stretching across his face. “I thought you were gone. I thought I’d never see you again. Are those gits keeping you here too?”

His eyes briefly flickered up and down Regulus, at once noticing that he was clearly in better shape than himself. His fine clothes, and the way he was well-groomed and fed were the primary giveaways. His smile slipped into a frown and he took a step back, releasing his hold on Regulus.

“No,” Regulus said, glancing aside, downward. “No, I’m here because they asked me to come speak to you.”

“They did?” His brow furrowed. Before Regulus could elaborate, he jumped to his next line of questioning. “Where have you been? What happened to you?”

“I—I left,” he replied, feeling less sure of how to respond. “I discovered something.”

“Well, what?” He demanded.

He shook his head, speaking evasively. “Something important. I had to leave.”

Barty’s frown only deepened with this answer. “What do you mean you had to leave?Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” Regulus replied hesitantly. “I couldn’t risk anyone knowing. You might’ve tried to stop me.”

“Did you leave, or did you run away?”

The look which darkened Barty’s face told Regulus he was venturing into the very conversation he’d feared.

“I left,” he said firmly, fixing his gaze on Barty and never letting it drop.

“Why?” Barty demanded. His replies were always quick as a blade, barely letting Regulus finish his sentence.

“I had doubts,” Regulus replied, just as fast this time. “You know I always did.”

Barty sneered, his lip curling. “You seemed pretty eager to take the Dark Mark, as I recall.”

“I was stupid. I didn’t understand.”

“Oh, is that your excuse?” Barty snapped back, his voice rising. “You don’t just get to hand your notice in to the Dark Lord because you misunderstood the job role, Regulus.”

“That’s why I couldn’t tell you I was leaving. I didn’t even tell Evan.”

Barty was silent for a moment. His arms were folded across his chest and he looked away, his jaw clenched. Then, more quietly, he replied, “We would’ve helped you. Whatever it was.”

“That would mean defecting from the Dark Lord. That’s what I did. I defected and betrayed him.”

“And so now you’ve changed loyalties?” He asked cuttingly.

“I’m simply cooperating, and I’d advise you to do the same.”

“Oh, fuck off. Fuck you.”

“Barty, listen to me.”

“No!” He suddenly came closer. “I followed you! My only two friends—you and—and Evan. Fuck,” he trailed off, his voice breaking a little. “Evan.”

“Where is—”

“He’s dead,” he practically hurled the words at Regulus, as if he were throwing their friend’s body at his feet. “Evan’s dead.”

Regulus stood still, his face a mask of composure. He remembered suddenly the feeling of falling backwards into a well, when Bellatrix had pushed him over as a child. He’d fallen fast and heavily, hitting the bottom with a force that winded and dazed him. He felt like that again right now and took in a steady breath before he spoke again—

“I didn’t ask you to follow me,” Regulus said quietly. “Nor did I ask Evan. You both joined of your own accord.”

“Evan, maybe,” Barty glared, “But my family had no involvement in any of it. I wouldn’t have…not if you hadn’t.”

Regulus turned his gaze on him angrily. “Bullshit. You believed it all, you lapped it up.”

“Of course I did,” Barty laughed bitterly. “When I saw how you were treated, of course I wanted in. It was everything I ever wanted. Power, respect, influence. You wanted it too, so don’t fucking lie. You obviously just weren’t willing to do what it took to get it.”

“I saw the Dark Lord for what he really was,” Regulus snarled back. “I saw him torture and kill innocent people.”

“So did I—“

“He hurt Kreacher.”

Barty again laughed. “Your house elf? Was that your last straw? You left because he hurt your precious little elf?”

“Kreacher was loyal. He was my family, and I’ll not let people hurt my family.”

“And what about me?” he exclaimed, turning his hands to himself and pointing at his chest imploringly. “What about Evan? You left us behind like we meant nothing."

“You made your choices,” Regulus said, his tone level. “Just as I did. I never asked you to follow me.”

“No, but we did. I did. And now I’m locked up here while you, apparently, get to prance around scot-free. How’d you manage that, hm? Did your soft-headed brother talk them out of sending you to the Aurors?”

“I’m not free,” Regulus snapped back. “Not really. I’m living in a safe house and I’m not allowed to leave it unless escorted.”

“Safe house,” he snorted. “Must be nice.”

“You’re in a safe house yourself, you idiot! They could’ve handed you over to the Aurors, but instead they’ve kept you here,” he motioned widely across the room with his arm. “With three full meals and a bed.”

“Why?” He demanded.

“Probably the same reason they kept me. For information.”

“Did you give them information?”

“Yes, and it’d be in your interest to do the same.”

“I’m not telling them shit,” he sneered.

“It’s a simple choice, Barty,” Regulus narrowed his eyes. “You provide them with information and they will give you protection in return.”

“They killed Evan. I have nothing to say to them. You're a coward.”

Regulus paused at this. He had naively assumed Evan was killed in some sort of cross-fire, an accident. He had not until now considered Evan may have been deliberately killed by someone in the Order.

“Who?” Regulus asked in a low voice. “Who killed him?”

Barty moved away from Regulus and sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace, pulling his long thin legs up to his chest and shivering. “The one with the eye.”

Regulus slowly moved towards him and sat down also. Regulus didn’t speak, so Barty went on, “We were pursued by Aurors while flying over Coventry. Evan got blasted, knocked off his broom and—” he trailed off, taking in a breath. His knee shook, and Regulus saw that his eyes were filling with tears that didn’t fall.

“He could’ve survived,” Regulus began hopefully. “Evan’s fallen off his broom hundreds of times.”

Barty shot him a scathing look through his tears. “I flew down after him. I saw his body. Then I was captured. I would’ve kept fighting if I hadn’t been so—so—I was weak. They took advantage and captured me and brought me here. And now you walk in,” he glared. “Looking well and healthy, like nothing has ever bothered you. But I suppose you’ve always been like that, haven't you, Reg? Nothing ever bothers you.”

“Plenty bothers me.”

“Where are they keeping you anyway?” He asked. His voice was still slightly shaky and he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Somewhere nice, I hope? Spain? Croatia?”

His tone was bitter, sarcastic. Regulus frowned and looked away, fixing his eyes on the cold ash in the fireplace.

“Wales.”

“Pity for you.”

“Lupin has a sister,” Regulus went on, ignoring him, “About the same age as us. I’m staying in her house.”

Barty frowned. “A sister? Who? I never saw her at school."

“She’s a muggle.”

Barty’s expression changed upon hearing this, breaking into a cold, sinister smile. “A muggle?”

Regulus wished he hadn’t said anything now, or had at least not given him the full details. Barty had never had any particular animosity towards muggles, not like he or Evan had had, but like most wizards and witches in his social circle, a heightened sense of superiority was a given. Muggles were always a joke.

“Yes,” Regulus replied with no further explanation. Barty, however, was the unceasing master of questions. He always asked questions. Even at school, he tired their teachers out with incessant questions, and now he was about to tire Regulus for information he was not forthcoming with.

“How does he have a sister who’s a muggle?” He asked first. “Do you mean she’s a squib?”

“No,” Regulus muttered. “They have different fathers. Both dead. She’s a muggle and she’s in hiding too because of Greyback and his pack. They’ve been heard around the area.”

“What does Greyback want with a muggle?”

Regulus shrugged. “It’s not so much about her specifically. It’s about the leverage he can gain over Lupin if he kidnaps her.”

“And Lupin trusts you to live alongside his muggle sister?” Barty replied, incredulous. “He may as well have handed her over to Greyback.”

Regulus frowned, lifting his eyes to meet Barty’s. “Is that the kind of person you think I am? I told you why I left the Dark Lord. Maybe I don’t like muggles, but I don’t want to kill them.”

“What’s her name?”

“Flora.”

“Flora,” he repeated. He said it slowly, enunciating the consonants. “Is she pretty?”

Regulus’ gaze wavered, falling briefly to the ground. “She’s not bad.”

Barty’s cruel smirk only widened. “Are you fucking her?”

Regulus’ eyes snapped back up to his face. “No!”

“I’m not going to judge what you do with your spare time, Regulus,” Barty scoffed. “I’ll happily change places with you though if you don’t want a pretty muggle girl. Can’t be bad.”

Regulus’ expression darkened, but it couldn’t hide the fact his cheeks had gone slightly pink. “Clearly you’ve been cooped up too long and it’s affecting your manners,” he said snidely.

Barty snorted humourlessly. “Manners are the least of my worries right now, Regulus.”

The door opened at that moment and Clementine poked her head in. “How’s the reunion, lads?” She asked lightly.

“Fuck off,” Barty replied sharply.

Clementine only nodded, as though used to such an unwelcome reception. Regulus stood up and dusted himself off. “I should go.”

Barty at once lunged forward and grabbed Regulus’ arm. “No, don’t go. Please don’t go yet.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow if I can,” he said noncommittally.

He scrambled to his feet and grasped Regulus by his shoulders instead. “Ask them if I can stay with you,” he said wildly. “Reg, please!”

“That’s definitely not happening,” Clementine put in.

Behind her, Moody shoved his way in and said grimly, “You’re staying put until we can find somewhere else to take you. Black,” he abruptly addressed Regulus, “Out. Sirius will take you home.”

Regulus shared one last look at Barty’s despairing face before he pulled himself away and strode out of the room. He pushed by Moody with anger, snatching his wand from his hand as he held it out for him to take, and rejoined his brother out in the hallway.

“Are you alright, Reg?” Sirius asked quietly.

Regulus didn’t look at him. He didn’t know who to be angry with. He hated them all.

❦

Flora was just beginning to prepare dinner when Regulus returned with Sirius. It was dark by now and the moon, almost full, was making its slow rise across the sky. Regulus saw Flora through the kitchen window before she noticed them, peeling potatoes with a faraway look on her face. She only looked up when they unlatched the gate.

She didn’t come to meet them at the door, silently continuing her work as they came in, and only looking over her shoulder by way of acknowledgement.

“What’re you making?” Sirius asked.

“Shepherds pie,” she shrugged, but then caught herself and looked at Regulus. “No, wait—cottage pie.”

Regulus smiled at her softly and Flora smiled back, her iciness melting just as his anger melted under her gentle gaze. Sirius didn’t notice the quiet exchange as he was busy helping himself to the biscuit tin.

“You can stay if you want to,” Flora said to Sirius after a moment. She was now chopping the potatoes up into chunks and depositing them into a large pan of water.

“I think I’d best get back to Moony,” he replied. “See how he is. Thank you though.”

“Will you take me back to see Barty tomorrow?” Regulus asked quickly.

“I don’t know, Reg. After the full moon would be better.”

Regulus didn’t have the willpower to argue. His nerves already felt wrought and weak. Sirius didn’t linger long, anxious to return to Remus, and they were soon left alone again. Regulus remained standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his eyes cast downwards.

“How was it?” Flora asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Fine.”

She glanced at him. “Just fine?”

Regulus let out a heavy breath through his nose and straightened up, looking at her. “Do you mind if I go lie down while you prepare dinner?”

“Oh,” she faltered slightly, “Yeah, fine.”

Regulus came close and encircled by the waist with one hand, planting a kiss to her temple. She relaxed.

“Just shout me and I’ll come down,” he kissed her again in quick succession, her forehead, her nose, and then her lips. He quirked a small smile and she returned it gently, nodding.

He felt that he was going to break down and cry in the middle of the kitchen. Flora turned back to her cooking as he disappeared upstairs to his bedroom, where he shut himself in and lay down on his bed. He desperately felt like crying, but the tears he’d been trying to hide a moment ago seemed to have dried up. He found that all he could feel was a hollow pain in his chest, and that sickening falling feeling, like he’d felt the moment before he landed with a thud at the bottom of the well, except now the falling was endless. He slept, and while he slept he saw Evan—pale, lifeless Evan.

❦

Flora came to him around an hour later, tapping lightly on his door. “Regulus?” She called. When he didn’t answer, she pushed the door open slightly and said his name again.

He woke, lifting his face to the sliver of light pouring in from the landing. It caught the glassiness of his eyes. Flora stepped in, her expression fixed with concern.

“Are you alright?” She asked softly, kneeling on the bed beside him. “Dinner’s ready.”

Regulus sat up, looking into her questioning eyes as she touched his hair and pushed it back gently. It fell back into his eyes.

“Your cheeks are all wet,” she murmured.

“Are they?” Regulus touched his face, realising she was correct. He must’ve been crying in his sleep.

“What’s happened?” She asked softly.

He took her hand and moved it away from his face. “Nothing.”

“Regulus?”

He got out of bed and pulled Flora up with him. “Dinner’s ready?” He asked.

She nodded, still looking at him curiously, and hummed a small yes. Something about the way she looked in that moment pulled at Regulus’ heart—her confusion, the mild hurt behind her eyes as she no doubt wondered if it was her who had done something—and he was suddenly overcome with that unnerving feeling he’d felt when they’d laid together in her bed. He embraced her closely and kissed the top of her head.

At dinner, he was mostly silent. He was hungry, but he ate little. All he could think about was Evan. Barty had been his closest friend, but Evan was his oldest; they’d played together as children and stuck together through school. They'd stuck till the end, but that end had been when Regulus left.

He helped Flora clear away the dinner plates, and Flora wordlessly disposed of what he hadn’t eaten. He wanted to go back up to his room, but he could see the anxiety in Flora’s face and so he sat with her in the living room. With a cup of tea each, Flora put her records on and curled up next to him.

“What’s the matter, Regulus?” She asked again softly after they had sat in silence for another three minutes.

Regulus looked down at his tea, circling his finger along the lip edge of the cup. He then suddenly leaned forward and put his tea down on the coffee table, turning to Flora and wrapping his arms around her middle with his face buried against the crook of her neck; Flora, though slightly taken aback, put her cup aside and instinctively embraced him.

“Regulus?” She whispered. She felt his body shudder, his hands gripping her tighter. Her hand flew to his hair to run her fingers through it soothingly as she realised he was crying. She waited while his warm tears dampened her dress.

Regulus swallowed his grief like bile. For a long while, he couldn’t speak; he couldn’t say the words which came to his mind for the heaviness in his chest and throat blocking them. Flora didn’t press him further. She continued to wait.

“I had a dream about my friend,” he said finally. His voice was quiet, strained. It didn’t feel like his own. “He was dead. Scattered in pieces on the ground.”

Flora held him closer. “The friend you went to see today?”

“No,” Regulus shook his head. “No, my other friend.”

“Dreams aren’t real, Regulus,” she replied gently.

“He’s really dead. Barty told me.”

Her hand stilled for a moment, locked against the back of his head. “Oh…” she breathed out.

“It’s my fault,” he said.

“No,” Flora said firmly. “No, Regulus, don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”

Regulus lifted his head to look at her. His face was wet. “It is my fault. I should never have left… or I should’ve—I should’ve told them.”

“What could you have told them? You’d all be dead if you had.”

Regulus didn’t answer for a moment. It seemed at first that he wouldn’t answer at all; his eyes, which were focused on the corner of Flora’s lips, were faraway in some silent inner reflection. And then, more unexpectedly than when he’d embraced her by the middle, he lay down and put his head in her lap.

“Please,” he said quietly. “Please just stay with me.”

Flora’s hand moved back to continue stroking his hair. “I’m here,” she murmured, watching his eyes flutter closed as he relaxed under her touch.

“Don’t leave the house,” he said.

“I won’t leave the house.”

He fell silent. The warmth of her body and the soothing sensation of her hand in his hair slowly eased the heaviness in his chest. He remained still, and Flora kept running her hands through his hair until everything felt okay again.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Four

❦

Regulus didn’t want to be alone. He laid with his head in Flora’s lap for what felt like hours, and she didn’t move. She spoke only when he said something first and continued to run her fingers through his curls soothingly, cradling his head. Regulus had never been treated so gently in his life. He’d not known this sort of kindness even from his mother— a cold, stern woman, and his father was her match. Sirius had always been the one he ran to for comfort, and when Sirius wasn’t there, it was Kreacher. Now, as Flora held him, he felt secure; this muggle girl, the very thing he had been taught to hate, was his solace.

When he sat up again, Flora wrapped her arms around him and held him some more. She didn’t say anything. There was nothing she could say that would make this better.  He had lost someone and he was grieved beyond belief. He remembered with bitterness the smiles and laughter that had punctuated the meetings within the Dark Lord’s circle; his mother sipping drinks from fancy glasses like it was a cocktail party, the self-important voices of the men and the murmur of the women around them; the girls, the boys—him and Evan and others—listening with rapt attention to promises of glory and power. But this was hell. Nobody had said his friends would die.

“Regulus,” Flora cleared her throat softly, breaking him out of his thoughts. Her fingers still caressed his hair. “Shall we go up to bed? Perhaps some sleep, if you can sleep, would help. Or we can stay awake and talk if you want to instead.”

Regulus nodded slowly. “Yes.”

He didn’t move for a moment, and neither did Flora. She waited for him to sit up, and when he did she smiled gently.

“How about you go up to my room and I’ll make us some hot chocolate?” She suggested.

He nodded again, wordlessly. He didn’t deserve this kindness, he thought. But he let her do it; he slowly made his way upstairs, and after splashing his face with some cold water in the bathroom, curled up on her bed feeling pathetic and tired. Flora came up a short while later carrying two mugs. She set them down on her bedside table to cool and then walked back to the landing to turn the light off in the hallway. The only light now was from the small lamp on her bedside table. The bed creaked as she climbed in next to him, curling up to face him.

“What was his name?” She asked softly.

Regulus sighed gently and pulled Flora closer, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Evan.”

“Tell me about Evan.”

Regulus again paused a moment as he gathered his thoughts. He felt sleepy, his eyes heavy and swollen.

“He was an idiot,” he replied with an affectionate, barely distinguishable smile that just raised the corners of his lips. Flora smiled back.

“No wonder he was your friend,” she returned lightly.

“Mm,” he hummed, “I’ve known him since we were two.”

Flora fell silent as she allowed Regulus to simply breathe and calm himself. She could see the pain behind his grey eyes, welling up again with tears; he clenched his jaw, closed his eyes and chewed on his bottom lip. He let out a deep, shaky breath.

Flora rubbed his back in gentle circles. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he breathed. The tears rolled down his face and off the tip of his nose. “I never wanted…I didn’t know…”

“It isn’t your fault,” she murmured.

“Then whose fault is it?” He replied suddenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp and it made Flora flinch a little. “The Order? They shot him down. They killed him.”

“Regulus…”

“They’ll probably hand Barty over to the Aurors any day,” he went on bitterly, furiously wiping at her eyes and cheeks. He pushed his hand through his hair and sat up. “Then to Azkaban probably.”

Flora did not want to step into this arena and potentially start a heated disagreement. She sat up beside him and pulled her knees up to her chest, looking away and saying nothing. She wanted to remind Regulus that this was a war; his friends, unfortunate and devastating as it was, had chosen their side. Many working for the Order had died already, and many of them were not much older than her and Regulus. The only person to blame was the man who had started this war in the first place.

Besides the pain of his loss, Regulus felt wretched, guilty. He’d left his friends without a word, and here he was curled up with the very thing he had professed to hate. He wondered if Evan would think him a hypocrite, if he would despise him if he could see him now. Barty certainly would.

Flora sensed his sudden distance from her and turned away to pick up the mugs of hot chocolate. “Do you want your drink?” She asked quietly, passing it into his hands.

Regulus nodded and took it without a word. They both looked down, silent, unmoving for a long moment. Then Regulus said, as he had said earlier when they were downstairs, “I should’ve told them…they wanted out as much as I did.”

“That would’ve risked all three of you,” Flora replied, still staring at her drink.

Regulus looked at her. “Do you know what it is I tried to do?”

She nodded. “Vaguely. Something about a locket and a cave.”

“A Horcrux,” he corrected. “The locket was a Horcrux. It held a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul inside. I tried to destroy it.”

Flora privately wished he wouldn’t call Voldemort the Dark Lord. It implied respect. She grimaced a little as he spoke, staring firmly at the mug in her hands. At any other time, she might have called him out on it, but right now was not one of those times. She took a small sip of her drink, but it burned her tongue and so she quickly lowered it again.

“Does that have something to do with the scars on your back?” She ventured.

“Yes,” Regulus nodded. “The locket was surrounded by a lake, and I was nearly drowned in it by Inferi—zombies, essentially.”

Flora’s eyes shot back up to his face, wide. “Zombies? Dead people?”

Regulus lifted his hand to her alarmed face, smiling gently. He pushed a piece of her hair back behind her ear. “Did you think the worst was house elves? I was lucky to get out alive.”

She relaxed as his hand brushed her face and pushed her hair back. He sipped his drink, seemingly unbothered by it being too hot, and kept his gaze level with hers.

“I’m lucky to be here,” he added.

“You didn’t seem to think so when you first came here,” she said with a small, teasing smile.

Regulus smirked benignly. His eyes were still a little wet, but the tears had stopped at least. “No, but I was an idiot.”

“Was?”

He kissed her, murmuring into her mouth affectionately, “Shut up.”

It was growing close to one o’clock in the morning by the time they fell asleep. Regulus slept dreamlessly, while Flora slept fitfully. She dreamt she was in the forest by her home, but it was dark, lit only by the light of the full moon. She was being hunted by something she couldn’t see, and ran blindly in a panic over crunching leaves and twigs, feeling it getting nearer and nearer. She awoke with a sudden start just as the thing in her dream pounced upon her; in that split second she felt its hot breath against her face, a snarl in her ear, and for a horrible moment thought she wasn’t dreaming at all due to the moonlight streaming into her bedroom. She drew back from Regulus in a panic, who had his arms around her, and accidentally woke him.

He made a small, startled noise and lifted his head from the pillow with his eyes half open. Flora quickly reorientated herself and breathed out heavily, curling back up to Regulus. He tightened his arms around her, at once making her feel safe.

“Are you alright?” He whispered softly, dozily.

“Bad dream,” she muttered.

“I’ve got you,” he mumbled sleepily, hardly knowing what he was saying. He kissed her forehead and Flora closed her eyes.

They slept through the rest of the night, waking around ten o’clock to a wet, grey morning. Regulus woke just before Flora. They had moved around in their sleep and Flora was now laying beside him on her stomach with her arm wrapped over her pillow. Regulus shifted over to her and draped his arm around her middle, pressing himself as close as he could get, breathing in the scent of her hair and skin. Flora stirred from his movement and rolled over to face him, burying her face against his warm chest.

The next twenty-four hours, they knew, were not going to be easy to pass. Flora felt the dread of the impending full moon, and Regulus could only think of Evan and Barty. But they continued as normal when they got up; Flora showered, dressed, and made a large breakfast for them—sausages, eggs, bacon, beans—while Regulus showered and dressed in turn. When he came downstairs, he immediately sought her out and wrapped his arms around her from behind just as she’d closed the lid on the teapot, standing over the table. She smiled, leaning into him; she still wasn’t quite used to the attention Regulus gave her, to being almost constantly embraced and kissed, but she liked it extremely—particularly now, as he smelled of the woody cologne she liked.

“You’ve made a full English?” Regulus said with surprise when he noticed the plates laden up with hot food.

“Mhm, yes,” she said. “I thought we could both do with cheering up a little. If it stops raining later, maybe we could go for a walk. Or if not, we could do a jigsaw puzzle or something. I’ve got a thousand-piece one Remus got me for Christmas last year that I haven’t done yet.”

Regulus made a small hum of agreement and gave her a little squeeze before releasing her to sit down at the table to eat his breakfast. Flora sat opposite, smiling softly as their eyes met. She felt that now-familiar pleasant flutter in her stomach as she looked at him, struck not only by how beautiful he was, but with the thought that she knew what it was to feel his mouth on hers.

Her last boyfriend, who she’d had when she was fourteen, was called Aled, and he had been serious enough to warrant a tea party with her parents. He was an awkward, nervous boy who spilled cake crumbs all over his lap, and who clearly liked Flora a lot more than she liked him. She’d never kissed him, not the way she would consider it a ‘proper’ kiss. In the end, Remus had intimidated the poor boy too much and Flora often ditched him anyway for her girlfriends. She’d never had any particular interest in anyone until Regulus came along—and Mark, who she had not forgotten.

When she remembered how Remus had scared her boyfriend off with his searching questions and disapproving snorts, she suddenly thought about how he would react to her relationship with Regulus. It didn’t take much speculation to know he would very likely want to murder Regulus. In fact, that was a certainty.

Flora took a sip of tea and then cleared her throat a little. “We should be more careful with you sleeping in my bed,” she said. “We’ve been lucky so far.”

Regulus simply looked at her for a moment. He’d been quiet the whole time they were eating, and understandably so, but replied with surprisingly good humour.

“Then come sleep in my bed.”

She rolled her eyes gently. “If Remus finds out…or Sirius…”

“They won’t find out,” he resumed eating. “Not yet anyway.”

“What do you mean not yet?”

“How long do you expect to keep this a secret?” Regulus replied with grave sincerity.

“I thought that’s what you wanted it to be,” Flora said a little uncertainly.

His brow furrowed. “Is that what you want?”

“Well, no,” she replied, trailing off in confusion. Clearly they were not on the same page. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know.”

Flora threw her hands up, exasperated. “Oh my God. What are we talking about then?”

“You brought it up.”

“If Remus finds out about us,” she went on, “he’ll be hanging bits of you up in the trees, and I don’t think I need to tell you which bits he’ll start with.”

As she said this, she stabbed at the sausage on her plate and cut it up. It hadn’t been with the intention to correlate her warning, but it made Regulus eye her a little warily.

“Him finding me in your bed isn’t going to instantly transform him back into a werewolf,” Regulus replied with a sniff.

“He’ll go ballistic, werewolf or not.”

“So, you want us to go back to sleeping in our own beds again?” Regulus asked.

“Well,” she faltered, “No… but aren’t you worried?”

He shrugged. “I trust you’ll know how to put him in his place again. You’ve stood up to him before, and you should do it again. He doesn’t own you.”

“No, but he’s so over-protective,” she sighed.

“He’s going to have to let you go someday.”

“That will be never.”

The rain only got heavier as the day went on, so Flora lit the fire and brought out the puzzle. It was a Christmas scene of rabbits in a snowy village with parcels under their arms, evidently doing their Christmas shopping.

“I suppose now all we have to look forward to is Christmas,” Flora said as she made space on the coffee table.

Regulus, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was looking at the cupboard he had just taken the box from. Almost all her puzzles were pictures of rabbits.

“Rabbits?”

“They’re my favourite animal,” she said, taking the box from his hands and unwrapping the cellophane around it. “What’s your favourite animal?”

“Cats.”

“Oh, yes,” she nodded. “And kneazles—help me find all the edge pieces.”

He watched as she began to sift through the tiny puzzle pieces. “Why don’t I just use magic to find—”

“No,” Flora frowned, “That takes the fun out of it.”

Regulus sighed a little and began to help her look. It was a repetitive task, one which he found little “fun” in, but it took his mind off Evan for the moment. His hand kept knocking with Flora’s as they searched through the box, and they made a quiet game out of snatching up the edge pieces before the other did. Flora currently had about twenty pieces, while Regulus had five.

“Dare I ask what else Sirius told you about me?” He said after a few minutes, alluding back to her mentioning his fondness for kneazles—something which, he remembered, Sirius had told her.

“He said you used to be a very sweet little boy,” she replied without thinking too long about it.

Regulus made a face. “Sweet?”

She smiled, lifting her eyes to his. “He said you used to follow him around and climb into his bed.”

“When I was three, maybe,” he conceded begrudgingly.

“It’s alright. I used to follow Remus around too. I was the bossy one though, and made him play Barbies with me.”

“What’s Barbies?”

“Fashion dolls. There are about three boxes of them in the loft. D’you want to play?”

Regulus shook his head with a small smile and turned his eyes back down to the puzzle box. “No, thank you.”

“Remus and I played really good games with them,” she reflected. “He always got quite into character.”

“Sirius and I used to play at being muggles,” he said.

Flora looked at him in surprise, letting a little laugh escape her lips. “Muggles? Really?”

“It was Sirius’ idea,” he added quickly. “And we were very secretive about it, because our mother would’ve been furious.”

“How do you play muggles?”

He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Well, we didn’t know better. We thought muggles lived in hovels and wore drab clothes, so we played in one of the spare, empty rooms and dressed up like we were poor.”

“That’s what you thought only about three months ago, Regulus.”

“Yes, well,” he straightened up, his cheeks going a little pink, but he said nothing more on the matter.

When they had most of the edge pieces of the puzzle, they began to put it together. They’d no sooner started this when they both heard the garden gate squeak open, and a short moment later, a little tap at the front door, which opened anyway before Flora could get up to answer.

“Hello, Flo,” Sirius called out.

“I’m in here,” Flora called back. She initially thought it was just Sirius, but then she heard a second pair of feet shuffling in and the sound of her brother’s voice speaking in a low murmur to Sirius. She turned around on the sofa as they both came in.

“Remus?” She said in surprise, putting her puzzle piece aside.

He looked very tired. His hair was messy, tousled, and there were dark purple rings under his eyes. He looked at Flora and Regulus for a moment, wondering yet again at their apparent sudden friendship, but had no energy to dwell on it. He immediately flopped down beside his sister on the sofa, letting his head fall back, rubbing his face.

“Sirius said you were upset the other night. I’ve just come to see you,” he said.

“But it’s the full moon tonight,” she frowned. “You should be resting.”

Regulus kept his eyes fixed on the puzzle, continuing to slot the edge pieces together like nobody had walked in and interrupted. 

“I’ll rest here for a bit,” Remus replied with his eyes closed. “Sirius is going to strengthen the wards around the house.”

“Reg, you’re helping,” Sirius said to his brother, “I need to make sure you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“I’m busy,” Regulus grumbled without looking up.

“Reg,” Sirius said more sternly, fixing him with a hard look.

Regulus huffed and stood up. Flora gave him a small smile as he passed by her, not realising Remus had opened his eyes and was watching her face. He saw her smile, and in turn he saw Regulus not quite smile back, but gaze at her with softened eyes. Flora turned her attention back to the puzzle as the two brothers disappeared outside.

“What was that?” Remus frowned.

“Regulus. You’ve met him before.”

“No, I mean,” he said, rolling his eyes, “Why did you smile at him?”

Flora kept her eyes on the puzzle, resting her chin in her hand. “Why not smile at him?”

“You both seem to be getting on better as of late,” he said. His tone wasn’t pleased, but rather suspicious.

Flora shrugged as though unaffected. “He’s alright lately.”

“Alright?”

“Mhm.”

There was a short pause, and then Remus asked, “How is he alright?”

Flora fitted another two puzzle pieces together and connected a corner, looking momentarily pleased with herself before she answered her brother. “He’s not so rude anymore, and he helps me tidy up.”

“And does puzzles with you?” He frowned. “And decorates cakes?”

“We have to do something to pass the time here.”

“Well, it better just be cake decorating and doing jigsaw puzzles,” he said tersely.

“Remus,” she chided, giving him a withering look. She couldn’t look at him for long though, as her cheeks had gone faintly pink.

“I’m just saying.”

“What are you saying? What else would we be doing?” She said with irritation.

“You know what I mean, Flo,” Remus replied. “I just don’t want you getting too friendly with him.”

“Seems more like you don’t want me getting friendly with anyone,” she muttered.

Remus again fell silent for a moment. He was exhausted and on edge, but he didn’t want upset her right now, and he was growing worried. If he pushed her away, he feared she would only grow friendlier and closer with Regulus.

“Maybe,” he conceded with a small sigh, “Maybe I did overreact a little bit last time. And I’m sorry.”

“A little?” Flora raised an eyebrow. “You were positively nuclear.”

“If you want to see the shop boy again,” he continued, “I’ll bring you back to London for a while.”

“His name is Mark,” she frowned. “And no, I don’t want to.”

“Why not?” Remus blinked, “I thought you liked him.”

“It’s been over a week and I haven’t contacted him. I doubt he’s still interested.”

He shook his head. “No, Sirius started talking to him since this whole thing happened. He asks about you.”

“He asked about me once.”

“It’s been more than once,” Remus replied, his brow furrowing, “And, although Sirius and I agreed not to bring it up with you, I know Regulus went out with you that night.”

Flora looked up, startled. “What? No, he didn’t.”

“Look, Flora, I don’t care anymore,” Remus sighed. “Regulus got a talking to already about it.”

“But…how do you know?” She spluttered.

“Shop boy—Mark, I mean—mentioned it.”

Flora sat back on the sofa, abandoning the puzzle. “Nobody saw him,” she felt suddenly that she had to fight her corner, “We were wearing makeup, and—”

“I don’t care anymore,” he cut her off. “It’s done. All I was trying to say was that if you wanted to come back for a bit, go out with Mark, I…I will let you.”

“Oh, thanks, dad,” she said sarcastically.

“Do you want to or not?” Remus pushed on, ignoring the remark.

“No, I’m happy here.”

“With him? Really?” He frowned deeply.

“He’s not that bad, Remus,” she quipped back. “You want to know something? He was really upset about his friend last night. Really, really upset. Just leave him be.”

“Who? Barty?” He snorted. “He’s doing just fine.”

“No, the one who died,” she replied sharply. “Evan.”

Their conversation came to a halt as the front door opened; Sirius was still explaining something to Regulus as he wiped his feet on the doormat and came in, at once flicking the kettle on with a swish of his wand, and filling the small cottage at once with a quiet sort of clamour. Regulus, meanwhile, came back into the front room and sat back down on the floor in front of the puzzle.

Flora leaned forward to join him. “I did this corner here,” she said to him in low tones. “So I think these pieces are part of this edge…”

❦

She made up with Remus before he left that evening. By then, he was growing restless and agitated, but he relaxed as Flora reminisced about the childhood games she’d been telling Regulus earlier. She wanted to talk about him and Sirius, but knew in his present condition it was certainly not the best time to broach the subject, so she didn’t bring it up.

When he hugged Flora goodbye at the door, he murmured, “Please think about it. About coming back for a while. I do miss you, Flo.”

“Maybe,” she sighed, noncommittally.

He left with Sirius, and Flora soon began to prepare dinner while Regulus watched old cartoons in the living room. It was fully dark outside and Regulus hadn’t bothered to turn a lamp on, leaving the room lit only by the light of the television and fireplace. When Flora came back in to tell him dinner was ready, he was curled up and apparently fast asleep on the sofa.

“Regulus,” she dipped down beside him, moving the hair from his eyes. He grunted but didn’t open his eyes, so Flora tried again.

“Reggie.”

His eyes shot open, then narrowed. Flora smirked.

“Oi,” he said in a gravelly voice, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“What is it?”

“Spaghetti. I know you like it best.”

He slowly sat up, catching hold of Flora just before she moved to stand up too. She laughed, grabbing hold of his shoulders to balance herself. He locked her down in his arms and nuzzled his nose against her neck.

“Regulus,” she protested lightly. “Our dinner will go cold.”

He grumbled something she couldn’t quite hear, then released her and finally got up—he was hungry, and he did like spaghetti. They sat down to eat and began to exchange details of the conversations they’d had with their respective siblings—Sirius, also, had been questioning Regulus about his peculiarly warm relationship with Flora.

“He saw us holding hands,” Regulus said in a resigned way. “Well, thought he saw us. He wasn’t sure.”

“What did you say?” Flora asked a little nervously.

“That he needed glasses.”

She smiled. Regulus seemed in slightly better spirits as they ate dinner, now freely mentioning Evan when he talked about his Quidditch games at Hogwarts and the classes they shared. Until now, he’d been very closed off about his life, and Flora found out more about him in just that brief half hour at the table. He stayed to help her wash up afterwards, waiting at the sink with a tea towel to dry the plates and put them away. It didn’t occur to Flora until they were sat down in the living room that he never used magic to help her with the dishes, which left her wondering if he was really just bad at cleaning spells or he genuinely liked hanging around her.

They went back to their puzzle in the front room, but soon found themselves tangled up in each other again, kissing fervently on the rug in front of the fire. Regulus’ kisses always felt so hungry, dizzying, and Flora had little idea it was her who drove him to such passions. To Regulus, she felt like a little cat—gentle, soft. And when she went down on him for the second time ever, she lapped at the head of his cock like a cat drinking milk, teasing him, making him moan.