Black Rose [Regulus Black]

"Oh," she began awkwardly, not knowing what to say. "It's...nice to meet you?"

Her eyes roved over the group of four boys facing her and Reg. One of the boys had sandy hair and light scars covering his face, the other had jet black hair and glasses, and the other was short and had this seemingly innocent air about him.

And Sirius. Sirius looked very similar to Reg, with the same prominent cheekbones, jet black hair and piercing grey eyes, although in Sandra's own unbiased opinion, Reg looked slightly better.

"How do you know each other?" Sirius demanded, and she blinked in surprise as she realised that the brothers' personalities seemed extremely different. Reg seemed calmer, more level-headed, while Sirius seemed to be the confrontational type. Sirius and his mother were alike in that aspect, then.

"We-"

"It's none of your business," Regulus snapped. "Get lost."

"Reg!" she exclaimed, not understanding what had come over him.

"I wasn't talking to you," Sirius replied with equal hostility, and she started to feel unnerved with how quickly the situation was escalating. Nobody else around them seemed to notice the group gathered to the side of the exit though, they were all too wrapped up in their own excitement, and she wished that she'd waited for her friends instead of rushing off due to the heat and discomfort she'd been feeling inside the cramped quarters of the concert hall. "What are you two doing here?"

"Did you not understand the meaning of 'none of your business'?"

"It is my business if you're coming to a Muggle concert. Is this some sort of sick Death Eater ploy you lot are up to, to burn down the concert hall?"

"You are also in a Muggle concert, and have blown up far more things in one month than I have in my lifetime. Why don't you go fraternise with your bloodtraitor friends, and let us go our own separate ways."

Sirius ignored him and turned to face Alessandra, and she instantly noticed some similarities between him and his mother. The determined set of their mouth and the way their eyebrows creased together when they were irate bore striking resemblance, and flashbacks of her previous encounters with the banshee appeared in her head.

"And who are you?"

"I already told you-"

"Sirius, mate, maybe we should-" the sandy haired boy spoke up, but Sirius paid him no heed.

"So you are the new Death Eater in-training, huh?"

Two of the boys groaned.

"I am not a Death Eater," she snapped, her good mood now ruined. Sirius and his mother were truly alike, and she decided that she didn't really like him. "What's it to you if Reg and I are at a Muggle concert? You're at a Muggle concert too, aren't you? It's not a crime to be here, so leave us alone."

"It is if you're a Death Eater."

"Are you daft? Did you not hear me when I said that I'm not a Death Eater?" she asked incredulously, surprised at how idiotic and unreasonable he was being. "I'm just coming out of a concert, and my friend came here to greet me. If anything, the questionable one here is you, because it's you that is disturbing us."

"She's right. We haven't done shit, so fuck off." Reg added smugly, and she subtly rolled her eyes at his childish eagerness to stick it to his brother.

Sirius glowered at them, reaching for his wand, and Reg did the same. The bespectacled boy behind them finally interjected, tugging his friend's arm.

"Leave it, mate. If they were planning something, they would have struck by now."

"It's called waiting for the right opportunity, James," he sneered, but let himself be hauled aside anyways.

"Nice to meet you, have a great day," the sandy-haired boy tossed out as they hastily began pulling their friend away, and she nodded, eying the other short one. He seemed guileless, kind of like your average neighbour who wouldn't dream of performing a crime, but the way he was looking at her was almost creepy. It wasn't a predatory gaze or anything like that, but as though he was inspecting her with an X-ray or something like that.

She didn't like it.

"What was that?" she turned to face him, and he grinned at her sheepishly with absolutely no aggression remaining on his countenance.

"Just a lovely family reunion."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Were you planning on blowing this place up though?"

"Of course not."

She pursed her lips as she finally took him in, Muggle clothes and all. It was kind of an odd sight, because he was usually dressed so formally, but she liked the change.

"I see you've taken a liking to Muggle clothes."

He shrugged as they began walking out, "Didn't think a suit would be welcome to a concert."

"And you were right, congratulations," she grinned. "But what brought you to a Muggle concert anyways?"

"I wanted to see you."

A strange thrill ran across her and it almost felt like her joints were singing with joy when he said he wanted to see her. He wanted to see me!

"Your friend at the restaurant told me. Charming woman, by the way."

"What did she do?" she asked, dread seeping through her.

"Well, she offered to set up a date with you and I, told me a list of your interests."

She prayed to any and every deity above (or below) to let the Earth would swallow her up right then and there.

It didn't, so she just laughed awkwardly. "Sorry about her."

He snickered. "It's rather interesting though, she said something about you wanting to go on a Ferris wheel and kiss someone."

"Stop," she squeaked, burying her face in her hands as her body heated up with the embarrassment. "I can not believe she said that!"

"And she mentioned something about dessert carts and holiday destinations, that was fairly interesting as well."

She groaned.

"Who knew that the Alessandra Rosier who threw plates at me loved romance so much?" he asked teasingly, enjoying the way she was turning visibly red. "And poetry, Shakespeare's poetry, she said you'd positively love it if someone read that to you."

"Okay, that part's not true. Sometimes, I barely understood a word of what Shakespeare wrote."

"So the rest of it is true?"

"No," she hissed as they entered the park, desperately wanting to change the subject. She couldn't believe her friend told him that, she felt so mortified. "By the way, what are these?" She held up her hand, displaying the rose tattoo.

"You tell me. They look like Muggle tattoos."

"I know, but I don't remember getting them."

"My mother thinks that you made me join a cult, and the rose is a sign of the membership."

She frowned. Didn't his mother make him join another cult? The conversation was going very well, however, and she didn't want to ruin it.

"I'll be honest, I don't remember anything from that night. I was completely hammered." She tried to recall something, anything from that night, but it all seemed like a blur.

"Me neither." She noticed that he hesitated for a second.

"What?"

"It's just- Do you get the feeling that something happened that night?"

"You feel that too? It's just this sort of feeling like something important did happen but I still can't place my finger on it."

"I don't have a single clear memory from that night. I just remember a lot of screaming and flashing lights."

"Honestly, it was probably nothing life-changing."

"True." He dismissed his doubts, knowing that even if he had done something, most of the people around were Muggles and were drunk, which was the perfect combination because even if someone noticed anything, no one would believe them. "So these tattoos, are they permanent?"

"I think so..." Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to remember. "You will have to go to a clinic though, or since you're a wizard, you can do some magic and take care of it. I don't really know much about tattoos though, I never thought I'd get one in my life."

"I tried using magic on it, it didn't come off."

"I read somewhere that the tattoo isn't really made on the surface of the skin, so maybe that has something to do with it?"

He huffed, not wanting to be spotted going into a Muggle clinic. It was bad enough that his brother had spotted him at a Muggle concert hall, but if he took the risk and went to another Muggle location, he could be spotted by someone who was less friendly. 

Namely, death eaters.

"Is there anything you can think of?"

"No, but I was thinking..." Afraid that he would discard her idea, she ducked her head, causing her hair to cover her face like a shimmering gold curtain. "Since your mother has basically forbidden you from seeing me, we could use the tattoos to communicate, kind of like the mark on your other arm."

"Communicate..." he murmured thoughtfully. "That's not a bad idea."

"That makes it sound like you have no faith in me," she pouted, putting her hand over her heart mockingly. "You wound me."

"Who said I do?" he countered.

"You better," she warned. "I am very capable of turning your life upside down and making you regret it."

He contemplated everything that had happened after Alessandra Rosier had come along. It wasn't anything superficial, his life hadn't completely changed on the surface — he worked the same job, met the same people and more or less had the same personality. It was more of a emotional change, a positive one, one that he felt from the tips of his bones to the cockles of his soul. He felt lighter and more stable, it was better than feeling like a constant dark hole full of depressing thoughts.

Had she turned his life upside down in a way? Maybe.

Did he regret it? No.

"I'm sure," he replied, his voice drier than sandpaper.

"I'm not joking!" she protested, seeing the shit-eating grin on his face.

"I never said you were."

"Then why are you smiling? I'm threatening you."

"It's just hard to take you seriously when you adore flowers as dark as the night when they're given to you under twilight." His tone turned playful at the end, and she swatted at him, causing him to laugh.

"That is simply not true. Everything she said is a lie."

"Of course it was."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Anyways, that's enough about me. How was your day?"

He stilled. How was his day... nobody had ever asked him that. Even when he used to come back from Hogwarts, his family members didn't bother asking how school was, they mostly cared whether he was prefect or whether he'd met a suitable pureblood girl to be married to.

His headache further intensified when he remembered his mother expected him to marry by the end of the year.

"Reg?" she gently nudged him, looking up at him with bright green eyes, and he admired the way they looked under the setting Sun.

"It was alright," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Just the same, boring routine as always."

"What do you even do during the day?" she asked, wincing at how abrasive she must have sounded, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

"A lot of my time is spent dealing with my family's affairs, like finances and properties, and I also represent them on the Wizengamot. I also work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"The department of what? Wizen-huh?"

"They're both part of the Ministry of Magic."

"Right... the Ministry," she echoed. It felt strange knowing that there were more people like her, not just across the country, but across the world. She also felt a fleeting moment of jealousy for how different and how comparatively easy the other wizards' lives must have been, knowing everything about their world while she stood there, clueless.

Magic wasn't the only thing she was clueless about, however. She didn't understand ribosomes, Regulus Black, inertia, integration, and her own emotions, so maybe being clueless was just a fundamental aspect of her character, no matter how much she didn't want it to be.

Reg, on the other hand, was cursing himself for not telling her about this earlier. He'd gotten so caught up in having fun and preventing his mother from slaughtering Alessandra that he'd completely forgotten to teach her the basics of the Wizarding World.

"I need to explain a lot to you," he muttered, running his hand over his face. "It completely slipped my mind."

She smiled. "It's alright, we have plenty of time on our hands. Let's just forget about it and relax today."

"No, you don't understand. If the Dark Lord comes by one day and decides to interrogate you, he'll find out everything. He'll know it all... he'll know that I tried to destroy him, he'll know that you actually may not be of pureblood, he'll know you're a parselmouth."

"So?"

"He'll kill you," he whispered, his voice low and frantic and she could feel the urgency radiating off of him in waves. "He'll kill you, he'll skin you alive and make an example of you."

"We'll be fine," she murmured.

"And how do you know that?" he asked, fearful for her life and his own.

"I just do."

"You're acting weird."

She laughed. "What's the point of living if you're going to keep hiding in fear?"

"It's called being cautious."

"Okay, but why can't you just kill him."

"I told you, he has horcruxes."

"Yes, but you destroyed one, so you can find the rest."

"Easier said than done, Sandra."

"You're smart, you'll figure it out."

"I'd just prefer to lay low."

"But for how long? He isn't going to go away on his own. I don't know much about this war, so I'll take the liberty of making a wild guess. If everyone knew about the horcruxes, all his enemies would be combing through the entire planet to hunt them down, and since he's basically a mass murderer who has cost thousands of people their lives, he would have a lot of enemies, who would've found out his key to invincibility. He's not dead, which means they haven't found out his weakness, so you're the only one."

"Is your way of encouraging me telling me that he'll come after me to silence me?"

She rolled her eyes. "No... well, yes, if it gives you the motivation. But my point is if you were one of the few people to find out about horcruxes and you were able to track down at least one, you'd be smart enough to find the rest. You're capable of it, as much as anyone and even more perhaps."

"Why are you so invested in bringing him down anyways?"

"He's quite literally running a cause to kill thousands of people. Not just that, but if you were so dedicated that you risked your own life to bring him down, it must mean you hate him deeply. You hate him, I hate him, it's that simple. I know it sounds strange or even cowardly, but I'm just going to go with your judgement on it."

"And what if I don't hate him?"

She mulled it over for a second. "Then I guess we'll have to agree to disagree even though I'll be on your side, but we both know that's not the case."

He felt somewhat delighted that she'd just indirectly stated that she'd be with him no matter what he chose or did (to some extent, of course). Nobody had ever done that for him. His friends would throw him under the bus if it meant allowing their families to advance. His parents would toss him out if he spoke against their cause, only to protect their reputation. His brother... Sirius had already proven it by leaving him to go live with his friend.

"I guess."

She sighed. "Sorry if I'm coming off as pushy."

"You're not," he assured her. "Don't worry."

"Weren't you the one worrying two seconds ago?"

"That was different."

"How?"

"I don't know, it just was," he shot back, dreading the prospect of going home and dealing with his mother's suspicions again.

He snatched up her arm, the movement sudden yet gentle, and she looked up at him, startled.

"What are you doing?"

He began murmuring an incantation as he traced the dark ink of her tattoo with the tip of his wand. She hissed slightly when a deep sting ran up her arm and the tattoo momentarily glowed, before returning to the same stygian shade it was before.

On the surface, it would have looked like an ordinary tattoo, but she could feel that it was different. It seemed more...alive. It felt like it had emotions of its own, they were miniscule but there nevertheless.

Realisation dawned on her.

"You made the connection?"

He hummed in response, looking around for a brief second. "I'll take care of my own side tonight when I get home. I should be going now, else my mother will get more suspicious."

She tried not to look so despondent at having their time together cut short, she really did, but it must have shown.

"I shall be gracing you with the pleasure that is my presence, do not fear, Your Royal Highness," he said haughtily, and he felt amusement rise up in him as she blushed profusely.

"Just because I was a fan of fairytales when I was younger doesn't mean that I like- oh my God, I can't, she's ruined everything," she muttered, and the humiliation on her face was so prominent that he could see it even in the dimming light. She was going to kill her friend.

He merely laughed, leaning forward to squeeze her hand and brush his lips over her cheek. She froze on the spot, and her heart felt like it had been paralyzed in that moment.

"Goodnight, Alessandra." He raised his hand in farewell, and then disapparated, leaving her behind in her momentary state of shock.

Holy shit.

She began walking home with a large smile on her face, her thoughts a delicious, muddled mess. She knew it was dumb of her to get her hopes up, and that a simple kiss on the cheek didn't mean much, but it could! It could, couldn't it? Reg did stay for that long, and even went so far as to defy his horrifying mother so he could continue being around her. Maybe he did have feelings for her, because he did actively seek her out. Maybe her feelings were reciprocated.

How did she feel anyways?

She didn't quite know.

Her smile morphed into a frown of sorts, although there wasn't any sadness behind it, just confusion. Was it possible that she was just so starved of human company that she began to fancy the first remotely interesting person nearby who took interest in her as well? She was new to all this. The girls in the orphanage used to gossip about boys all the time so she knew a little bit, but she still couldn't tell how she felt and how he felt.

Ugh, feelings. She hated them.

She slipped out her house key from her pocket as she approached the familiar brown door, inserting it into the key hole and twisting it till the door clicked open. She was so engrossed in her own world that she didn't hear the faint footfalls on the other side of the door or the urgent whispers, until it was too late and she had already pushed the door open to be greeted by a deafening crash and a yell.

⚜

"Where have you been?" Reg's mother hissed as he strolled through the door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and she was surprised to see that he almost looked merry.

Walburga narrowed her eyes as she recalled seeing that expression when her son was around that bloodtraitor bitch. Surely her son wouldn't go back on his word when she'd expressed her clear dislike for that girl, would he?

"The Dark Lord summoned me," he lied, knowing that his mother wouldn't have the courage to poke around that.

"Didn't you say you were going to go to the apothecary?"

"Yes, but then I saw a bunch of Muggles gathered around there and decided against it."

"Muggles?" she questioned.

"Mudbloods," he clarified. "Terrible, the lot of them, screaming like animals."

She laughed bitterly. "It's a pity our Mudblood-loving Ministry protects those disgusting creatures all the time, else you would have been allowed to send a good Crucio towards them, am I right?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Your aunt Araminta, she had the right idea, I tell you..." he let his mother's voice trail off as he got lost in his own head. There was something about Number 12 Grimmauld Place that just made it difficult to live in. It felt like the walls were closing in on him, with the elf heads and plundered gold making him feel slightly nauseous.

He snapped back to reality when his mother uttered those five darn words that made him want to jump back into the lake of Inferi again every time.

"Have you found someone yet?"

"No."

Not according to her tastes, at least.

"Why not?"

"I have been much more focused on progressing the Dark Lord's cause and helping our House rise to glory."

And seeing a particular blonde that you absolutely loathe with all your being. The usual.

Obviously, he didn't say it out loud to keep his sanity (or what was left of it) intact.

She pursed her lips, and his breaths turned shallow when he realised that his mother didn't look angry or even disappointed.

No, it was much worse.

She looked pleased. Excited, almost.

And he found it absolutely terrifying.

Why, oh why, couldn't he just have let the Inferi drag him under the lake?

⚜