Rencontre Inattendue
Regulus Black fucking hated the cold weather.
For someone who was born in the middle of the summer, he could hardly be expected to embrace the wintry mix of flurries, grey skies, and even worse—cold, freezing rain. That was to be expected when one lived in England, he supposed. When his family had discussed going on holiday, he had conjured images of some place where he could escape the bitterly cold wind, somewhere warm—perhaps the south of France, basking in the sunlight like a serpent and reading a good book. He was not enthused by the idea of escaping the cold of one city for that of another, but that was precisely where they were: a luxury ski resort near Mont Blanc.
“Oh cheer up, Reg; at least you’re still in France.”
His brother’s voice cut into his warm weather reverie. Sirius was thrilled to be here, bounding through the snow drifts as if he were a giant dog rather than a person.
“Oh piss off, Sirius, will you?” Regulus sighed, huddling deeper into his massive parka.
He was sitting on a bench outside of the row of chalets, trying to soak up as much of the sun’s rays as possible. His coat was too large—he’d preferred it that way, so that he could layer it with an outsized jumper whilst still maintaining some semblance of style.
Sirius managed to look good no matter what, and Regulus narrowed his eyes as he watched his brother’s combat-boot-clad foot kick into a pile of snow and send the downy flakes drifting around him. He shook them out of the long hair that spilled over his shoulders and bounced around his chest, smiling and looking as though he were in an advert for the bloody resort.
“James’ll be here soon,” Sirius grinned.
“I can hardly contain my joy,” Regulus said drily.
Considering that this resort was supposed to be rather exclusive, Regulus wasn’t entirely surprised that the Potters would be spending the winter holidays there as well. The Blacks typically traveled in the most elite of circles—his mother looked with disdain upon anyone not wrapped in silk and dripping diamonds, as did she of old money.
Sirius’s friend James was nothing like that. Though his family had made a fairly new fortune with some hair product or other (Regulus couldn’t be bothered to keep track), their mother and father did everything in their power to keep Sirius from spending time with James. Regulus had only seen James in passing (from a distance, at that), so he wasn’t sure why Sirius was so intent upon spending time with this Potter bloke apart from the fact that Walburga and Orion didn’t like it and thus doing so would provoke them.
Regulus sighed. Sirius would never learn.
Their parents were… strict. The only reason that he and Sirius had been allowed to go off on their own was because their parents were meeting up with some of the other old money families—the Lestranges, the Malfoys, the Rosiers… His friend Evan was off somewhere with another they knew, Barty—snowboarding or some other such tosh.
“Prongs! Good to see you!” Sirius called.
Regulus startled again.
He looked up to see not one but two figures approaching. One was lanky like Regulus but much, much taller than he or Sirius could ever hope to be (if their parents’ heights were anything to go by). He had a sickly, weathered look about him like a weed that had shot up quickly and then not seen the sun in quite some time. (Regulus almost laughed at the thought, as he’d just been lamenting that same thing.) His hair was a mess of tousled, sandy curls and he had a scar across one cheek and the bridge of his nose—faded, but noticeable just the same.
Regulus flickered his scrutinizing gaze to the other figure. He, too, was tall, but his sturdiness hinted at an athletic build under his puffy jacket, and his hair (also messy—did no one own a comb?) lifted in the biting breeze. If the other boy looked almost unwell, as if he had been lacking the sun, then this boy was the sun—the whole area seemed to instantly warm as he approached and smiled happily at Sirius. Regulus was suddenly pleased he’d taken the time to put on his jewelry this morning and opted not to wear the stupid stocking cap that his brother had offered.
“Hey mate,” the sunshine boy (this must be James) said to Sirius. “This is Remus. He’s staying with us through the winter holidays. He’ll be joining us when we get back as well.”
“Nice to meet you, Remus,” Sirius said, shifting slightly.
Was he blushing?
Regulus could barely keep from rolling his eyes.
“Oh, er, this is my darling brother Reggie,” Sirius said, smirking at Regulus.
Prick, Regulus thought.
“It’s Regulus, thank you,” Regulus said stiffly.
“Blimey, he’s posh,” the boy called Remus muttered to James.
“Hiya Regulus,” James said. He turned to smile incandescently at Regulus, the sun glinting off the gold of his glasses, and Regulus felt as if he might implode.
“Hello,” he said smoothly.
“Hello Regulus,” Remus said, awkwardly offering his hand.
Regulus reluctantly took the proffered hand, grasping it quickly with his own cold, silver-ringed fingers before releasing it.
“What have you lads been up to since you’ve arrived?” James asked eagerly.
“Not a whole hell of a lot, Prongs,” Sirius quipped. “Regulus doesn’t like the snow and our parents ditched us for some of their lot—although you won’t hear any complaints from me on that front.”
“The chalets all have hot tubs and there is a pool here, so if we want to do something other than ski or snowboard we have plenty of options,” James said.
Sirius raised his eyebrows devilishly. “Yes, and snowmobiles—imagine racing around!”
He and James set to discussing the merits of snowmobiles and arranging a race, and Regulus tuned them out. Remus was subtly scratching his palms against his trousers and the zipper of his coat. Regulus pulled a face, frowning at him bemusedly.
“Oi—what’s wrong, Remus?” James asked.
“Nothing,” Remus said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Let me see,” James insisted, tugging the taller boy’s hands from his pockets.
Even from where he sat, Regulus could see that they were covered with a red rash. That explained the itching, then.
“Remus! What happened?” James yelped.
“It’s nothing—I have extremely sensitive skin,” Remus said.
Sirius blushed inexplicably at this, Regulus noticed.
“But what happened?” James pressed.
“I’m not sure—it could’ve been anything.”
“It just started though,” James persisted, though Remus looked as if he wished to be anywhere but where he was.
“I’m allergic to silver, James,” he said through gritted teeth. “It gets me every time.”
“Silver?!”
“Yes, yes, I’m wearing silver,” Regulus said, waving a ringed hand dismissively. “I didn’t realize it would be problematic.”
He narrowed his eyes somewhat at Remus, who had the presence of mind to flush at his ridiculous sensitivity.
“Allergic to silver… wow,” James said, rubbing a hand on the back of his head.
“Good thing I only wear gold, then,” Sirius grinned cheekily as Remus flushed a deeper shade of crimson.
Regulus made a disgusted noise with his throat and rolled his eyes.
It was going to be a long two weeks.