Black Rose [Regulus Black]

"-and then," the short-haired woman in front of her gasped out, her chest heaving as she passionately spoke. "He got down on one knee and said, 'Petunia, I want to spend my entire life with you.' The ring was so huge, I could see my reflection in it!"

Most of the women in the party sighed, cast dreamy looks at the enormous gem Petunia Evans (about to be Dursley) rocked on her ring finger. A few, however, discreetly rolled their eyes and looked at the head of the table with pity.

Classic Petunia, always wanting the scraps of attention.

Alessandra took another sip of the wine, sending a reassuring smile towards her friend beside her. She and Chelsea Booker had known each other for a long time now. Chelsea's family used to come by the orphanage and give them presents, and they soon became playmates and the best of friends.

"What about you, Alessandra?" Petunia asked coldly, and the women of the so-called high society also directed their mistrustful gazes towards her. "What have you accomplished so far?"

Alessandra held her head high, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cower. "I hardly think I need to make Chelsea's birthday lunch about me, Petunia, not all of us constantly seek validation for attention."

Petunia gasped, her face turning an ugly shade of mauve. "I beg your pardon? You're just bitter that you have nothing big to brag about, as opposed to the rest of the ladies in this room."

Oh, how Alessandra wanted to bash her head in. Unfortunately, the only thing holding her back from doing so was her childhood friend, and she didn't want to mess things up for Chelsea. The Bookers and the Evans had been on good terms for a long time, and she didn't want to ruin it just because she couldn't keep a hold of her temper.

However, she couldn't help but dole out a small inflammatory remark. "Bold words coming from the woman who doesn't truly have anything big in her life, if you all know what I mean."

Giggles erupted around the table and Alessandra herself suppressed a smile at how quickly they all turned on each other.

Friendship at its finest, indeed.

"Cake!" Lena exclaimed, trying to diffuse the situation. "What's a birthday party without a cake, right?"

And so the finely dressed waiters brought out the scrumptious two-layered cake, and Alessandra's eyes absent-mindedly drifted over the candles spelling '20' on the topmost layer. Despite the sweet delicacy sitting in front of her, a bitter feeling rose up in her throat.

Petunia was right.

What had she accomplished anyways? She was nearing twenty soon and hadn't really done anything important. She burnt herself out working two jobs with minimal pay, and hadn't really made any advances in her career. She got promoted, and now had to greet visitors, record reservations and make bills, but it just wasn't enough.

And her love life, that was a steaming mess. It was completely non-existent, with Regulus taking whatever hope she had in her heart. Had she fallen too easily? She suspected that she had, for it felt like he hadn't reciprocated her feelings. It wasn't love, definitely not, but she definitely felt some attraction.

She watched all the women in front of her, imagining how easy their lives must have been. They had a mother who braided their hair and told them tales of love and hope, a father who gave them toys and food with nothing expected in return, and a comfortable house with bedrooms as large as her own house.

It was unfair. She deserved it too. Why did she get to be the misfit whose parents abandoned her for some dumb reason?

It wasn't fair.

She ignored that tiny voice in her head and straightened slightly as her friend looked at her with concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Perfect! Don't worry. I do have to leave soon though, my shift begins in 15 minutes."

Chelsea hummed lightly and got up, beckoning her over to a corner of the room. In true fashion, none of them noticed the host leave, too preoccupied with drowning themselves in bubbly champagne and scandalous gossip.

"Don't take what Petunia said to heart."

Alessandra scoffed. "I couldn't care less about what Petunia has to say. If that bovine bitch says there's something wrong with what I'm doing, I know I'm doing something right."

Lies, lies and lies. Well, it wasn't a complete lie because she didn't care and Petunia was a bitch.

Chelsea laughed. "Just checking. But, speaking of engagement rings..."

Alessandra gasped as her friend slowly lifted a ring-clad hand. "Doug proposed?"

"Yes, finally! I've been waiting for him to do it for ages."

"I know, I was there," Alessandra said dryly, recalling the times Chelsea would rant about her boyfriend not proposing to her soon enough. "I'm so happy for you! And me, of course, no more listening to you fantasize about the perfect engagement ring."

Chelsea tsk-ed in mock disappointment. "I thought you knew me better. We both know I'll move on to bothering you about weddings, babies and new houses soon."

Sandra rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, we'll deal with that hurdle when it comes to it. When's the wedding, by the way?"

"We're thinking end of this year. He said he's fine with anything I want to do for it, as long as I don't show him up the aisle. As if I would ever! Oh, Sandra, I'm set for life. I've found the love of my life and I'm ready to be with him forever. It's amazing."

"How do you know it?" she asked, admiring the light glow of happiness that had fallen upon her friend.

"What?"

"I mean, how do you know whether you're in love? Like, what's it like? Just curious."

"I don't think there's a specific way to feel love," Chelsea murmured thoughtfully, letting her eyes flick over to the table at the centre of the room for just a second. "You just... know? Like, it's this overwhelming, but pleasant pressure on your heart that makes you feel dizzy in a good way. And whenever the person is in your line of sight, you just feel a thousand times better than before. It's mostly the little things, like when Doug gets me my favourite kind of chocolate or takes care of me when I'm ill. It's not some grand gesture or anything like that."

"Oh."

Chelsea grinned, her brown eyes playful. "Why, is there someone I should know about?"

She knew her friend meant well, she truly did. But when she asked that simple question, it felt like demons were trampling over her heart. The very thought of Regulus was suffocating. A few weeks ago she felt light-headed and warm when she thought of him, and now it felt like her soul had been dragged to a pit for lions to feast on.

It wasn't pleasant.

"No," she lied through her teeth. "I need to go now, though. Congratulations, and happy birthday again!"

She wrapped her best friend in a hug, wanting nothing more than to spill it to someone. Who would be more trustworthy than her own friend to pour her heart to? Unfortunately, she didn't think telling anyone (even her best friend) about the magic world was feasible, seeing as she'd have to explain the whole concept of magic, which would lead to two likely scenarios - they'd lock her in a mental institution for being delusional, or burn her at the stakes for being a witch.

Before she took her leave, her friend spoke up. "Sandra?"

"Yeah?"

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Her heart ached as she took in the sight of her friend, her closest friend, who she'd known since she was a mere child. Of all the people she knew, Chelsea was the most trustworthy and held a special place in her heart. Surely she could tell her friend this so she could get some help?

Yes... but no.

She settled for curling her lips upward slightly, even though they both knew it was forced because she was hiding something. "I know," she said simply, meaning every word of it.

It was just too risky.

⚜

She flopped onto the couch, looking almost boneless as she draped herself over it in a strange, contorted position.

She wanted to die.

She just had the most frustrating encounter of her life (it was an exaggeration, every interaction with Walburga Black was way worse) at the restaurant. There was this one man who got angry because all the tables were booked. He never even booked a reservation and expected everything to sort itself out on its own.

Dumbass.

But of course, the bloody customer was always right.

Honestly, who in their right mind would even think that was correct? What if a customer wanted his meat raw and unwashed? Would they be given it, since the customer was always right?

Of course, she wouldn't voice her annoyances out loud because she needed the money, but still. It was an idiotic rule.

She tossed her head back and groaned when an impatient knock sounded on the door. She was in half a mind to ignore it when a very familiar sounding voice spoke up.

"Sandra? It's me. Reg. Regulus Black."

She froze and slowly turned to stare at the door, looking like a deer in headlights.

She had two options. One, she could open that door and let him in, essentially allowing his mother access to degrade her even further. Or two, she could ignore him and leave him out, so he would feel a small fraction of the pain that she had.

But she decided not to be so cruel and approach the door, keeping her voice steady as she replied. "What do you want?"

"I- I need help. Urgently. Please."

"Then ask someone else," she snapped, her anger flaring when he said that. He cast her out of his house, left her to feel humiliated and lonely, and now wanted her help? What made him think she'd agree?

"I can't. Sandra, please, just this once and I won't bother you again."

She stared at the door, stone-faced, although her heart melted just a little.

Once only, he'd said. It could be closure for her, maybe.

She quickly darted over to the mirror on the wall, fixing her hair up and making sure she looked fine.

"Sandra?" his voice rang out again, and her heartbeat skyrocketed as she ran back and extended her hand towards the door, yanking it open.

She gasped.

It wasn't the kind of gasp of joy one gave after seeing a long-lost lover. It was more a gasp of horror one gave when seeing a bruised, bloody, and broken man.

Because that's what Regulus Black was at the moment. A bruised, bloody and broken man.

She silently wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him limp into the house. After taking all the necessary supplies from the medicine cabinet while he collapsed onto her couch in an ungraceful heap, she got to work, applying salves and using a bit of magic on all of his wounds. The silence was deafening in the way a horror movie was before a chilling turn of events - it was laced with a thousand heavy words that were begging to break free. She willed herself not to look at him as Alessandra, but as someone completely desensitized to him.

Finally, she set a plate of biscuits, a glass of water and a small pill in front of him, and stared at it in confusion through heavy-lidded eyes. Then she remembered that the wizards probably had no idea what pills were since they were used to having potions.

"Have a biscuit, pop a pill, drink the water." She spoke, her tone crisp and emotionless.

He obliged, setting the glass down and relaxing back on to her couch. "You seem upset."

Her nostrils flared, and his lazy half-smile disappeared as he saw the stony expression that had taken over her face.

Right. He had kicked her out of his house.

In his defence, his mother told him to.

"Why did you turn up on my doorstep on the brink of death?"

He looked sheepish as he stretched slightly, marveling at the way her magic had taken away most of his pain so easily. Truly, if she decided to work in the Wizarding World, she'd be an accomplished Healer.

"My mother... was slightly upset." He saw something flicker in her expression, and hastily added, "It's been that way for a while now since my father died, she's just volatile at times. She has a lot on her plate, so-"

"I don't care about your mother," she hissed, and he winced at her biting tone. Her voice could rival that of the Dark Lord, complete with the dripping venom and tinge of disappointment that the formidable man's tone always held. "Why did you show up at my doorstep?"

She knew she was being heartless, but she had started to learn that if she was ever going to survive in this world, she needed to protect her own heart, even if it meant cutting others' down. She had only one heart and one life, but tons of boys would come by eventually.

He scratched his head, wincing slightly as the muscles in his arms screamed in over exertion. He didn't quite know what she wanted him to say, but was aware it was one of those trick questions women asked. Evan had told him all about it, how women asked a question with a very specific answer expected in return. If a woman asked if her friend was pretty, the replied had to be that she was prettier, and only then would she be satisfied.

But what was the answer here?

"I...kind of thought of it as killing two birds with one stone. I felt like you were gifted enough to heal me, but also wanted to see you."

"You...wanted to see me."

He nodded. It wasn't actually a lie, he did want to see her, but didn't think she'd be as willing to see him.

"Well," she spoke, after a long period of silence. "You've seen me. Goodbye now!"

"No, wait," he muttered as she began opening the door to usher him out. "I wanted to talk to you as well."

"You just did."

"Sandra, wait," he muttered, looking perfectly at ease on her sofa, which was now slightly bloodstained. "I'm sorry."

She paused for a second, but then remembered that his apology wouldn't change anything. "Okay. Do you need help getting up and walking out the door?"

He winced. "I don't think I can. It hurts."

"That's unfortunate for you, but you still need to leave."

"Why?"

"Why?" she finally exploded, slamming the door shut, and he jumped. "Have you forgotten the fact that you kicked me out of your house? Or that your mother has belittled me every chance she could get?"

"No, but-"

"Excellent, so you know why. You can leave now."

"I'm sorry," he answered desperately, quickly, and he sounded like he meant it. "I really am, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings-"

That made her angrier. "Hurt my feelings? What did you think would happen?"

"I didn't know what to say that time! My brain wasn't functioning, and I didn't know what to do! I felt like the only way to de-escalate the situation was to appease my mother, because she was the angrier one. I didn't mean to make you feel that way."

"So you didn't think I would feel bad? Or humiliated? Reg, how many times am I supposed to just stay silent while your mother makes me feel inferior? It's so frustrating — don't interrupt me — because everytime I'm around you, she has something negative to say. You didn't even bother to tell her anything when she hurt me that day, both emotionally and physically. I can't keep doing this, your mother is always going to be against me and for my own sake, I don't think I should be around you anymore."

He weighed his options. "What if... What if my mother doesn't say anything?"

Her green eyes widened so much that he could see the ring of black around them. The sight was almost comical, in an adorable way, and he would have laughed if it were a different, more light-hearted situation. "Are you saying that we should kill her?"

"No!" he exclaimed, shocked that she'd even think that. "No... what if we don't tell her? She doesn't need to know that I'm still in touch with you."

She laughed mirthlessly. "Regulus, she keeps track of your every move. What makes you think she won't find out within a day?"

"I'll just tell her that I've been out with a friend. It isn't technically a lie."

"And what if she asks you who it is?"

"I'll say someone random."

"What if she's asked that person and they said they weren't with you?"

"I'll make up something on the spot."

"God, this is ridiculous, Reg, listen to yourself," she urged. "This is ridiculous. It can not go on."

"She's not as paranoid as she used to be, so she won't be suspicious for a long time. Besides, she's been sick for a while now and needs to take rest, so she won't be as active."

"And what will you do if she does find out? Kick me out and repeat this bullshit over and over?"

"Of course not. I'll tell her she's being unreasonable."

She narrowed her eyes at him and he held his breath, taking in her appearance. It had been so long since he had seen her with her blonde hair, green eyes and infectious grin, and he just wanted it all to go back to normal.

"Break my heart and I'll break you in two."

His heart soared, and he grinned at her. "Wouldn't dream of it."

And they both knew, all too well, that the other wasn't joking.

"Also," he began hesitantly as she went into the kitchen, taking out boxes and cutlery as she began preparing dinner. "I don't want to face my mother right now, so is it fine if I... er..."

"I'll use magic to make the couch bigger."

⚜

Regulus didn't understand Muggles.

For one, why would they willingly choose to act like screaming animals in broad daylight? If they were going to cause a ruckus, wasn't it better at night? Cults were supposed to be stealthy.

Also, who the fuck named their child Led Zeppelin? No wonder the man became a leader of a cult.

Muggles were idiots.

What was Alessandra doing in a cult anyways? She didn't seem like the kind of person to join one.

Then again, he didn't either.

That's what the Death Eaters were, a murderous cult. He didn't see it before, but it was abundantly clear now. The Muggles were weird, yes, but the purebloods were even more flawed for trying to wipe out an entire race. He felt foolish for not seeing it before, for being brainwashed, but it was abundantly clear that while the Muggles were strange at times, they didn't deserve to be killed for sport.

Of course, his realization didn't mean that he'd found a way out. No, he was still very much stuck with a filthy brand on his hand.

And a tattoo. Why did he have a rose tattoo, of all things?

He examined the tattoo as he waited outside the entrance, not sure what it meant. Why a rose? Why not a dragon or a snake or even just a blob? It seemed more likely than a rose. He'd noticed the same on Sandra's wrist as well, and didn't have the right state of mind to ask her what they were that time. He filed it away for later.

The doors to the stadium burst open, to reveal a sea of people happily chattering as they strolled out. He wondered how Muggle cults were so happy, when more than half the Death Eater meetings ended with someone losing a limb or a life.

"Reggie?"

His heart nearly stopped in his chest when he heard a voice he hadn't heard in over three years.

His eyes flicked over his brother's form as a hurricane of conflicting emotions engulfed him: shock, joy, hopelessness, rage, longing, familiarity. He wanted to shout at his brother for abandoning him yet hug him because it'd been so long (not that he'd ever admit it). He felt somewhat happy, but it was the kind of happiness that had an underlying sadness with it, the kind of happiness that was limited and not long-lasting like most luxuries.

It wasn't like Sirius would stay anyways, he'd probably run off with Potter and his friends.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"What are you doing at a Muggle concert?"

So it's a concert...that makes much more sense.

But still, who the fuck names their child Led Zeppelin?

"None of your business," he replied shortly, still trying to look for Alessandra.

"Are you looking for someone?"

"Fucking hell," he groaned, annoyance rising, "Do you not understand the meaning of 'none of your business'? Take a hint."

Sirius held his hands up placatingly. "Calm down, I'm just checking."

"Yes, well, you've checked. Now leave, run along with your blood-traitor friends."

"There's no need to be rude," Lupin interjected.

"That's what you lot are, right? Mudblood-loving blood traitors. Oh, except you, Lupin, you're a-"

"Regulus?"

His heart nearly stopped, but this time for different reasons. He turned to see Sandra. Her blonde hair was askew and a light flush covered her cheeks, and Merlin she looked radiant as always.

"How do you know each other? Reggie and...what's your name?" Sirius questioned, disbelieving that his brother was seeking out a Muggle, of all people. His mother wouldn't have let him do so with a ten-foot-pole, much less in the presence of countless other Muggles.

"Alessandra, and who are you?" she squinted her eyes, trying to remember where she saw him. He looked distinctly familiar, yet she couldn't recall where she'd seen him before.

"Sirius."

Oh.

⚜