𝕄𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕

She had yet to tell Regulus what she promised him in the Hospital Wing. Had yet to speak to anyone about her marriage proposals, visions, and peculiar letters from her grandfather. Sekhmet sat in the Great Hall as the pungent aroma of braised meats, warm bread, and seasoned potatoes filled with rosemary and oregano filled her nose. She ate a generous helping of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and glazed carrots, hardly tasting the meal as her eyes wandered the hall. 

Slughorn had recently invited her to join what he had called the ‘Slug Club’ which was supposedly meant for stellar students. Sekhmet had a larger inkling that this was just another way for Slughorn to stroke his ego around people of high society. She had seen him do it with Horus last year and did not doubt that she would be used for the same purpose— an attraction—if not a little more exotic. 

Sekhmet being the only girl in the Arafa line in over 500 years meant that she was often looked at like a spectacle; Some perplexing rare creature thought to be extinct that had only been seen through pictures. It was as though she were more a concept than a person in the eyes of the public. That being said, Sekhmet couldn’t claim that she was too excited to attend Slughorn’s odd club.

She shook the uncomfortable thoughts from her mind, her ears tuning out everyone in the Great Hall as her eyes continued to scour the tables for anything that might seem familiar from her vision. She could have sworn she’d seen the strange blue-eyed man before, but she could not for the life of her figure out who it was. Perhaps someone at Hogwarts was connected to the person in her vision? Sekhmet didn’t know, but she was certain that her intuition would not lead her astray.

The Great Hall was bustling with students per usual, but something about it seemed off to Sekhmet. Her eyes kept perusing the hall when she felt a sharp pain in her head. She knew the feeling— knew what was happening. Someone was trying to force their way into her mind. Her gaze shot to Regulus who was engaged in a conversation with Evan and Barty, his hands moving around excitedly as he talked. 

So it wasn’t him, but who the hell was it?

That’s when she saw it. Those eyes. 

They were almost as terrifyingly omnipotent as the red-eyed man in her visions. But no, these were different. His bright blue eyes stared at her in the hall not wavering for a second. Sekhmet was certain that the culprit had to be him.

Albus Dumbledore.

As she fought off his attack, not allowing herself to grimace— to give him even an ounce of satisfaction— she honed in on his eerily familiar gaze. The same damned gaze that had looked at her dedushka in pure want during the blood pact. The same gaze that had trailed her like a convict ever since she got to Hogwarts. The same Merlin-forsaken gaze that had said she “truly did remind me of someone I so had once known so well…” 

The fucking git. 

So Albus Dumbledore of all people had been involved with her dedushka. Had been close enough to make a blood pact with him. Hadn’t he defeated Grindlewald? Hadn’t the Wizarding World sung his praises after their fateful victory against the first dark wizard? What on earth would they think when they knew the truth? 

Albus Dumbledore was just as power-hungry, just as dirty, and just as corrupt as the ones they were fighting against. 

Sekhmet pushed him out of her mind, enforcing her shields to keep him from getting anywhere near her line of defense. She glared at the man, her green eyes piercing him. She knew he would suspect her now. Knew from the look of slight horror that passed over his face. But what difference did it make? He had been watching her anyway. Maybe it was time to give him a show. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Sekhmet felt like he knew. 

Regulus had always been very in tune with her feelings, but the way he was looking at her—She was lost for words. So, she did the only reasonable thing she could think of. She took him to the room of requirement, sat him down, and spilled her guts. She told him about the mysterious letters from her Grandfather she’d been getting, the way her father had told her of her engagement, and the strange visions she’d been having due to some ancestral blood curse on her mother's side. 

By the time she was finished, Sekhmet was talking so fast she was stumbling over her words. She hadn’t even felt the tear on her cheek until after Regulus came forward, his cool, delicate fingers wiping it away.

Sekhmet stared at him. Into the mesmerizing silver pools of his eyes. She lunged forward, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug as he let out a surprised grunt. His arms found their way around her torso, holding her tightly as if she were going to float away. His heart beat in rhythm with hers, their chests meeting as one. 

They stayed like that for a while. Completely silent in their contemplation. Regulus broke said silence.

“When?” 

“What?” Sekhmet replied, dazed and confused, her eyes still glassy from before.

“When are you going to meet him?” Regulus asked, his voice stoic.

Sekhmet knew who he was talking about. She was to meet her fiancé soon. Regulus had tensed up at the mention of her getting married off, but if she thought he reacted poorly to that then she’d be sorely mistaken. When she divulged how her betrothed had had those piercing red eyes he had gone stiff as a board and ashen as a ghost. He hadn’t said anything, but he hadn’t needed to. Sekhmet suspected he knew something he wasn’t telling her.

“Your family’s ball,” Sekhmet shared, her tone forlorn but accepting. 

Regulus looked at her in panic, his eyes going wide and his hand gripping hers.

“That’s soon. That’s by the end of— Sekhmet why on earth didn’t you tell me sooner?!” He stood up abruptly, pushing the chair back from his force.

His face was betrayed and desperate. He looked as though he’d already lost whatever war he was fighting. Sekhmet knew something was happening and she was done being kept in the dark. Her eyes locked with Regulus as he ran his hands through his hair in a frenzy. Her voice was stern and dripping with anger.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She asked, “Who the devil am I to marry Regulus?”

He stayed silent, not meeting her eyes.

“Regulus Arcturus Black!” She shouted desperately, tears coming to her eyes, “I know you know something I don’t. So who the hell am I engaged to that had you shaking like a leaf worse than when Walburga decides to go batshit on you?!” 

Regulus met her gaze, his eyes closing as if in pain as he opened his mouth to talk.

“My parents— Sekh, they’ve been having meetings with the Dark Lord. Have been trying to get me placed in his ranks. I met him—this past summer— and his eyes. Merlin his eyes. They were what stood out to me most. Dark red, knowing, and so severe with a promise of violence.” Regulus shared, his hands shaking as he recounted the memory.

“Speak plainly Reg. What are you saying?” Sekhmet asked her tone, conveying the nervousness she really felt.

“I’m saying that I think you’re betrothed to the Dark Lord. And if what you told me about the wedding is true, then I think he wants you as an asset.” Regulus said in his grave voice.

Sekhmet felt her heart drop to her stomach.