Black Rose [Regulus Black]

"So what I'm hearing is that I have a unique, rare ability that you don't?" she asked slowly, grinning.

"When you put it like that..." he rolled his eyes. "But, now we have more incentive to find out who your father is. He must be a Parselmouth as it's usually hereditary."

The smile on Sandra's face was instantly wiped off. On one hand, she was curious to know who her birth father was, while on the other hand, she didn't think she wanted to know as she'd been doing perfectly fine without him. But that wasn't what truly weighed heavily on her mind.

The only reason Reg was interested in being friendly with her was because of her background. Uncovering this last detail would mean the end of the road for them, and she wasn't quite sure if she was ready for it to happen. She'd only just found out about a whole new world that she'd belonged in, and had found someone she could freely talk with and be herself around.

If not knowing the identity of her birth father meant she and Reg could continue remaining in touch, then she'd take the opportunity. Unfortunately, she didn't have that option, and didn't want to humiliate herself by asking him in case the feeling wasn't mutual.

"Yeah," she replied half-heartedly.

He gave her a strange look, surprised by her unenthusiastic response. Perhaps it was the nerves, she was probably excited yet anxious to know who her father was.

"Let's get to it. The potion is fairly easy, although it does take about six hours to brew."

⚜

Three hours later, the two of them were sitting in front of a cauldron full of bubbling potion. Sandra was untidily sprawled on the floor, her legs kicking behind her and her chin in her hand as she read a book.

Reg couldn't help but admire how dual she was. She could either be the girl who was a free spirit and did whatever she wanted, or she could be the girl who was so intellectual that she managed to outsmart one of the most terrifying wizards of all time. It was admirable how well she switched between the two personas, allowing them to overlap yet diverge at the same time.

If he was being honest with himself, however, he would prefer the Alessandra Rosier that was a free spirit. He rather liked the Alessandra who chose to wear pants and let her hair down, who liked strange Muggle music, who acted as unladylike as she wanted. She was like a rose in the middle of a field, beautiful yet resilient, with pretty petals and thorns sharp enough to draw blood.

"Reg?"

He hummed lightly, looking away from her.

"Can you tell me about this Dark Lord? What are Death Eaters?"

She didn't miss the way he stiffened slightly and flexed his arm subconsciously.

"The purebloods, as you know, are those with magical blood, they're basically descendants of very old wizards. They've been around for a long time, their families hold great power in the wizarding world. The muggleborns are wizards of Muggle descent. The stricter purebloods have always been against muggles. Occasionally, we have a few wizards who pop up and lead movements against the Muggles. The Dark Lord is one of them, and the cause has come a long way. People are scared, Sandra, that's why they don't come out on the streets. The situation has gone completely out of control, even the Ministry has given up. People are being abducted or murdered in broad daylight and nobody can do anything except look on."

"And you're one of them." Her tone was accusatory yet held disappointment.

He wanted to deny it so badly. He wanted to tell her that he'd hated Muggles only because it had been taught to him as a child. He wanted to tell her that he'd been pressured by his parents to join the cause.

But then again, so had his brother, and look where he'd ended up. Sirius got to stay with his best friend, love who he wanted without worrying about the consequences, and do whatever he wanted without any repercussions. Regulus had to admit, his suffering was the product of his own cowardice.

Thankfully, he was spared the trouble of replying when his mother opened the door, glaring at the blonde beside him.

"What are you doing here?" she spat, her eyes fearsomely boring holes into Alessandra's being, but Alessandra calmly met her gaze, completely unbothered by the woman's vehement hatred of her. Sandra had accepted that Reg's mother would never like her, and it was alright.

This wasn't a permanent arrangement anyways.

"Making a potion," Alessandra said simply.

"I can see that, but why are you here?"

"Mother, why wouldn't she be here? The potion is being made for her," Regulus replied, exasperated.

"It's not like she knows anything that's going on, she can't perform magic. Having her here is a waste."

"Actually," she sat up, looking bored. "I can perform magic."

Walburga looked thunderous. Alessandra thought it was a pity that a woman so beautiful destroyed her beauty by choosing to wear the ugliest of expressions on her face. "Impossible. You are a Squib."

Alessandra clenched her fist and opened it, to reveal a ball of flames, and Walburga gasped. Whether it was in shock or horror, Sandra couldn't tell, but either way, she revelled in it.

"Surprise!" she cooed, mockingly. She knew she was being rude, considering that this was Reg's house and she was disrespecting his mother, but she didn't care. Walburga had been hostile to her from day one, not bothering to hide her disdain and muttering words like 'bloodtraitor', 'mudblood' and 'harlot'. Respect was a two-way street, and if Walburga was going to be a bitch, she'd pay back in kind.

Reg, in the meantime, looked on nervously. Sandra and his mother didn't get along well, constantly acting passive-aggressively and making jabs at each other. He always felt like he was in the middle of a warzone when the two of them were in a room together. He tried not to interfere, but it was incredibly hard for him. He wanted his mother to be happy, but what about his own happiness? He couldn't throw his life away trying to please everyone, he'd already wasted his childhood doing so.

Walburga shut her mouth, her lips drawn into a thin line as her eyes burnt holes in Alessandra's skull. Alessandra, however, couldn't give a shit about it. She was much more interested in the ingredients required to make a potion than Walburga's need to make her life a soap opera.

"How long will the potion take to make?" Walburga asked stiffly, sending the blood traitor on the floor a look of dislike. It was obvious that the girl was only with Reg for the money, and the sooner she left, the better it would be. Thank Merlin this was going to be the last time she saw the girl, it had been the longest few weeks of her life. She was going to have to ask Kreacher to deep-clean the house the moment her stupid worn-out Muggle shoes were out the door, who knew where the filth had made contact with the precious objects of her sacred house.

"Three hours."

Walburga huffed and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

⚜

There was only half an hour left, and Alessandra was sad.

She really didn't want it to end, it was unfair that her happiness was short-lived. The last few weeks had been amazing. She didn't want to go back to the bore that her life was. She didn't want to go back to selling medicines in the morning, waiting on tables at night and then going home and eating takeout all by herself. She wanted more than just two months with him in the magical world.

"It feels like your mother doesn't like me," she said nonchalantly, as they sat together in a comfortable silence.

"She doesn't," he replied. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she laughed it off. "I think she thinks I'm some kind of murderer or gold digger intent on ruining your life."

"Are you?" he asked, looking down at her.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret now, would it?" she winked, and he chuckled.

"I do like a heads up before having my life ruined."

"I will be sure not to give you one then. Besides, that's not how most gold-digger stories proceed."

"There are gold-digger stories?" he asked, the muggle term easily slipping off his tongue now.

"Tons of them. Usually, they involve a very old rich man and a girl in her 20s. It's either that or stories where a girl decides between two rich brothers. I find them in the comics section of the newspaper."

"That sounds...revolting."

"They're hilarious. The flirting in them is pathetically funny."

"What would you consider pathetic flirting?" he asked curiously, sidling up next to her.

"One thing I find weird is when one person is flirting and the other person isn't looking remotely interested. It just screams desperation, and is so annoying. Also, when the boy uses pick-up lines, they're too awkward. It's a big turn-off."

He recalled the times Sirius would walk up to some random girl and start flirting with her, and grinned slightly. "Has anyone ever done that with you?"

"Oh, many times," she rolled her eyes. "I work at a pretty good restaurant as a waitress, and we have all these rich blokes coming in. Nearly all of them wiggle their eyebrows at me creepily and tell me that they want a bottle of wine and a date with me when I ask them what they would like to have. All the waitresses have been told that at least once."

"So you don't like rich men."

"No, I don't like people who begin flirting without even getting to know the other person. It's an uncomfortable experience."

Regulus was certain Sirius and Alessandra would get along well. He could just imagine their first interaction, it was something he'd pay a thousand galleons to see.

She looked over to see the boy next to her grinning, his eyes faraway as he probably conjured up some scenario in his head. She wished she had a camera to take a picture of him casually sitting on the floor, wearing a white shirt and black pants which complimented his black hair perfectly. He looked so relaxed, it was a memory she wanted to preserve forever because she didn't think it was something she'd ever see again.

She also wished she knew Legili- whatever that thing was, so she could read his mind and see what he found so amusing.

She was jolted out of her thoughts when he turned to face her, an amused grin playing on his lips. "What did you do? Yell at them? Slap them?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, shocked that he'd even think that.

"That's boring. Where's the excitement in that?"

"I mean it would be fun, other than the fact that I might get fired. Or the person might press charges against me."

The tempus charm he'd conjured flickered to indicate that the time was up, and at that exact moment, the door swung open again, to reveal a very disdainful Walburga Black. "Well?" she demanded. "The potion must be ready now. Try it."

Sandra wondered if she'd been outside the door the entire time, eavesdropping to make sure that they weren't engaging in 'illicit' activities. What did she even think was going to happen? It wasn't like they were going to sleep together in a crowded potions closet, the woman was mad.

Reg gestured for her to hold out her hand so he could extract a drop of blood, and she uncertainly held it out, before retracting it. Her heart was beating so fast that it felt like it would leap out of her chest any second, and she wasn't sure if it was because he was going to cut her arm or because they only had a few more minutes together before it all ended.

"Relax," he told her, reaching for her hand. "It's only for a split second."

He tugged her hand forward, using his wand to slice her palm open, and she winced as there was a small stinging sensation. Clutching her arm, she ran her fingers over the cut, and Walburga peered at the way her skin knit itself together.

Walburga had a theory. Alessandra Rosier was more cunning than she let on. What if she'd found out her heritage a long time ago, and had tracked her father down and killed him to obtain his magic? It would explain how she had magic. She was out to destroy the pureblood world along with the Muggles, with those small, strange objects they used to carelessly throw around back when she was ten. It explained everything. Maybe she wasn't here solely for Regulus' money. It was possible she held a grudge against Dabria Rosier for doing what was right and abandoning the Squib, and now Alessandra was using Regulus to get to Dabria and annihilate her.

It made perfect sense. Walburga had to admit, the girl was cunning, but she wouldn't let that happen.

She watched what they were doing with beady eyes. Her son was stirring the potion around because he'd added the drop of blood, and the blood traitor girl flicked her wrist, conjuring a piece of parchment.

"Ready?" he asked Sandra quietly, one hand on the ladle as the other was used to squeeze her hand.

She nodded, unable to speak.

They watched on in anticipation as the potion began moving across the parchment smoothly, taking over the entire expanse. She held her breath as she watched her name form on the parchment, as two lines began branching out over it.

One line branched out to the left, and small letters began to form on it.

Dabria Rosier.

They all held their breaths as the other line slowly extended, and a name was imprinted on it.

Tom Riddle.

Walburga frowned as she concentrated hard, trying to understand where she'd heard that name from. However, it wasn't her biggest concern. Whoever it was probably wasn't pureblood, and that was a good enough reason for her to kick the girl out.

"Regulus," she spoke sternly, slightly happy that her son would finally see reason to kick her out. He wouldn't let some vile half-blood stay at their house anymore, he'd finally see through her deceit. "I need to have a word with you."

He obliged, lifting himself up as Alessandra squinted at the names, perplexed. He shut the door behind him, turning around to see his mother triumphantly cross her arms with an expectant look on her face.

"When is she going to go?"

He did a double take. "Go?"

"Yes, Regulus, she can't stay here. I already had my suspicions, but now they've been confirmed. She's descended from Muggle filth, we can't keep her here anymore."

He wanted to ask her why it mattered, but decided against it for the sake of his own sanity. "You don't know that. Tom Riddle could be a pureblood."

"It doesn't sound like a pureblood name."

"There is no such thing as a 'pureblood' name. Look at the Rosiers' son, his name is Evan. Does that sound pureblood to you?"

"Even then, she'd still be classed as a blood traitor. She's been surrounded with Mudbloods her entire life and sympathises with them, she's obviously a blood traitor. We can't have her here."

He stared at his mother in disbelief. Did she truly not care about his happiness? Could she not see that Sandra made him happy? Was she so apathetic to how he felt and what he wanted?

"Why not?" he dared to ask.

"Listen to yourself, Regulus," she urged. "Do you not see what she's doing to you? She's brainwashing you, she has been doing so from the very beginning. It's what the Muggles do, your father and I have been telling you since you were a child. They're manipulative freaks, hellbent on destroying our world. What would your father say if he saw you influenced so easily? He'd be so, so disappointed."

Doubt began to rise up in him. Was it possible that Sandra was actually just using him? He'd known her for only two months, but she seemed genuine. It wasn't one of those cases where someone was too good to be true, was it? Then again, she was intelligent enough to evade the Dark Lord. What if his mother was right and he was being manipulated by her?

He heard a soft click behind him and turned around to see Sandra closing the door behind her, her face red. "Well," she muttered, and his heart sank as he realised she could probably hear every word they'd said. "I'll be going now. Have a lovely night."

He made no move to follow her, merely watching as she rushed out of the house, visibly upset.

⚜