Black Rose [Regulus Black]

"Whoa," she whispered, gawking at the scene in front of her.

It was majestic.

She remembered going out in London when she was seven, with the other kids in the orphanage. They were walking on the street, when she saw a bar in the corner. It looked fairly ordinary, like any bar would, except the bottles were floating. When she'd pointed it out to her friends, they'd all looked at her like she was mad, claiming that there was no building on that location. She used to wonder if there was something wrong with her, whether she was hallucinating or it was just a recurring dream.

But it wasn't a dream.

It was real.

Regulus was right, it was all real. Magic was real. There were more people like her.

Regulus had taken her to a place called Diagon Alley, which was apparently a shopping destination for wizards. She'd scoffed when he told her that people actually spent their times buying strange ice creams (like chicken and lemon-flavoured ice cream) and even stranger ingredients (like crocodile hearts).

But he wasn't joking.

Perhaps this wasn't a scam... although it still seemed too good to be true.

"What's that?" She pointed at a random shop where hundreds of owls were gathered, hooting and flapping their wings.

"An owl emporium. You can also buy other pets there, like cats or toads. Owls are useful because people can deliver handwritten messages to each other."

She scrunched up her nose in a way that he would've found endearing if he wasn't impatient to discover more about her identity. He was considering just grabbing her arm and cutting it to gather some blood for his research, but decided against it because she was slightly...fierce.

"But don't they use pigeons?" she asked curiously.

"What?"

He didn't have time to ask her to elaborate, for she'd already moved on to the next store. "What's quidditch?"

He straightened up, eager to explain. Finally, there was something interesting. "Quidditch is the best sport in the world. There are seven players: three chasers, two beaters, one keeper, one seeker. There are four different kinds of..."

Once he was done explaining, his speech incredibly passionate in a childlike way, with tons of wild hand movements, she nodded slowly. "So it's like...handball on broomsticks."

"I...yes?" He didn't know what handball was, but just agreed with it, knowing that it was some sort of Muggle sport.

"Speaking of witches," she turned to him. "Are there any requirements for me?"

"Requirements?" he questioned.

"I haven't really grown up in this society so I don't know much. But in the books, they were green and had warts. Is that how they grew up here? Am I supposed to be like that too? Do I need to have a black cat? I'm allergic to cats."

He stared at her for a long moment, and then burst into laughter, startling people around him. It had been a while since he'd laughed like that, so happily and freely without having a care in the world. "Is that what the Muggles really think of us?"

"Yes..." she muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed.

After recovering, he straightened his jacket, pulling it more securely over himself. He'd taken multiple precautions as he didn't want to be found by the Dark Lord. He'd worn grubby, oversized clothes that everyone knew the real Regulus would never wear. He'd also placed a large, curly wig on his head given to him by Alessandra. It was in all the colours of the rainbow, she'd said it was some kind of fashion trend so he went with it.

He eyed her appraisingly. "No, Alessandra, you do not need a cat or warts. You don't need to be green either. However, your clothing could do with a bit of...tweaking."

She scowled at him, self-consciously crossing her arms over her chest. "Rich coming from the boy dressed like a half-dead tramp."

He ignored the jab, because he had to partially agree with it. He looked horrendous, his mother would faint if she saw him in such hideous clothing. "It's not your clothes, it's just that women dress differently in magical society."

Ten minutes later, there were in Madam Malkin's shop, and Alessandra was prancing around in abnormally large high heels and even larger robes, much to the amusement of the shop owner.

"I feel like the bloody Queen right now," she beamed. She then stood up straight and plastered a solemn expression, and began waving randomly.

"What are you doing?" he asked, confused.

"I'm acting like the Queen. Look at me walking around, I'm glamorous- oops!" She tripped on her large dress, and he caught her just in time.

"Very glamorous," he said dryly.

She smacked him upside down the head.

Watching her walk around in the robes typically worn by pureblood women did give him an idea though...it was risky, but if it elicited the correct reaction, it would pay off.

"What are you thinking of?" She asked him while they were walking back to her apartment, their hands full with all the purchases they'd made. He looked deep in thought, yet was grinning slightly, and she wondered what was going on in his head.

"Would you like to meet my mother tomorrow?" he asked her out of the blue.

"Wh- Buy me a drink first!" she spluttered, completely shocked. "Are you trying to bribe me into some sort of sick marriage? I don't even know you. I don't know when your birthday is, how many siblings you have, where you live, or anything like that. You can't just-"

"I'm not asking for your hand in marriage," he replied coolly, mustering an incredible amount of patience. "I just want you to meet my mother, introduce her to yourself as Alessandra Rosier, and then see her reaction."

"And what good would that do? I think she'd be more worried that her son came home with some washed-up bland-looking gold-digger."

"Gold-digger?" he questioned.

"Someone who marries for riches."

"Oh, so basically the entire pureblood society. You'll fit right in."

"I just brought a large pair of high heels, and I will not be afraid to stab you with them."

"Noted. And as for the washed-up, bland-looking part, do not worry about it. You look lovely the way you do, just dress up in the clothes you got today."

She nodded slightly, trying not to let her cheeks turn an unflattering shade of crimson. They walked back to the apartment in a comfortable silence, both with small smiles on their faces.

"Well," she cleared her throat. "I should probably go back inside now. Thank you so much for today. I had a great time, Regulus." She smiled at him slightly, although feeling slightly awkward. She didn't really know what to do next. Did she have to invite him inside? How did this even work?

"Same here," he nodded, fighting back the smile threatening to erupt on his face. "Good night, Alessandra."

"Good night," she said quietly, slowly shutting the door. If she'd done it only a second later, she'd have seen a large, genuine smile on his face.

⚜

She was a bundle of nerves the next day, running around the house as she tried to find her jewellery in the cluttered mess that was her house. Eyeshadow palettes and different shades of lipstick were strewn across the dining table. Papers and plastics were randomly tossed around the house, taken out from the new articles of clothing she'd received. Another dress was carelessly draped on the sofa. By the time she was done getting ready, her house looked like a hurricane had hit it.

She still felt like a princess though, attending a dinner in her fancy outfit. It was hard to believe that this had become her life, but she wasn't complaining.

How long would it last for, though? It was part of their deal, that he'd get all the answers he wanted as long as she cooperated, and then they'd go their separate ways.

She still didn't know how she felt about it.

She heard a knock on the door, and instantly dropped everything she was doing, quickly rushing for the door. She waved her hand to clear up the mess, and checked herself in the mirror one last time before opening the door. "Hi," she greeted Regulus breathlessly, letting her eyes trail over his figure. He looked splendid, decked in a black suit with his hair neatly combed back, and she felt...things jumping in her stomach.

What was that?

"Good evening," he said politely, and there was a moment of silence. "You look beautiful."

She blushed slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat as she stepped out of the house and began locking it. "My house is far away from here, so I decided to Apparate us there."

"Apparate?"

He held out his arm and she happily took it. The smile on her face instantly vanished, however, when there was a pop and a strange twisting sensation took over her, lifting her off the ground. The moment their feet hit the ground, she doubled over, groaning.

"Yes, it takes a while to get used to it. I, however, have been doing it for two years now, so I'm fine with it."

She struggled to her feet, slightly wobbling. "So it's like teleportation..."

"No, I think that's something you Muggles use to call people who are far away. Apparation, however, is used to travel distances."

"What you described is a telephone. Teleportation is essentially travelling from one place to another without any modes of transportation, you kind of just disappear and then appear in another location."

"Oh. You're right, peletorpation is like apparation then." He couldn't believe Muggles had terms for all these things too. Was there a possibility they'd known about the magic world and made fools of the wizards? They were all rumoured to be conniving, after all.

"It's teleportation."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Alright, so, you need to be slightly more...graceful, as my mother is kind of judgmental. The first impression sets the tone for the rest of the night. Try to act a little more...sophisticated."

"Got it," she nodded. She then took a deep breath, and then straightened her spine and spoke in a strange way. "Is this good?"

He stared at her, mortified at the uncanny resemblance between her and the other pureblood women. "What was that?"

"It's how the wealthy people talk. You talk like that too."

"I most certainly do not."

"Yes, you do. In a nice way though, it sounds posh."

"Thank...you? My mother's probably waiting, let's go."

They came out of the trees and began walk down a street, until they stopped in front of two large houses. He began rummaging in his pocket for something, and she watched him, confused.

"What are you-"

"Here," he placed a piece of paper in her hand. "Memorise that, and keep repeating the phrase in your mind."

The piece of paper said, "The members of the most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black reside here, in Number 12 Grimmauld Place."

"Number 12?" she frowned. "There is no-"

A creak interrupted her sentence, followed by a loud groan, sounding like a door with rusty hinges. The houses began getting squeezed to the side as another one came forward, but the residents didn't seem to care or notice. Finally, it all stopped, to reveal a large house with the number '12' printed on it's door.

"Shall we?"

She held his hand, too awestruck to speak. He swung open the door, stepped inside and took off his coat, whilst she looked around, fascinated.

"Regulus, who is this?" a voice spoke up, and she whipped around to see a woman with the same dark hair and grey eyes as Regulus.

He placed his hand on her back and gently guided Alessandra forward, and he could've sworn that she'd blushed slightly. "Mother, this is Alessandra Rosier."

He'd expected a variety of reactions from his mother. He thought she'd berate him for bringing a Mudblood into their homes, or ask if they were courting. However, what happened next was completely unexpected.

She fainted.

⚜