Black Rose [Regulus Black]

"I did it," Reg announced as he swung the door to her house open. "I erased my mother's memory."

"Was it difficult?"

"No," he admitted nonchalantly, appearing completely desensitized to what he had done.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to one of the bags he was carrying that appeared to be laden with thousands of small boxes.

He plopped down beside her on the couch, completely at ease, and took out one of the boxes. "Chocolate Frog."

She stared at it, dumbfounded. "What?"

He began opening the box, and revealed something that was pretty obvious given by the name — a chocolate frog. She wrinkled her nose when it lifted its head, wondering if that thing was actually edible and if so how could one possibly bear to eat it. He rolled his eyes upon noticing her expression.

"Don't think too much about it."

She shuddered. "How can't I."

He shrugged, and picked up a card from the box to show to her. "Each box has a card of someone renowned in the Wizarding World. Some people even collect them."

She didn't miss the way his cheeks pinked at that, and she grinned. "Do you also have a collection?"

"No," he defended, sounding adamant, but she was sure he did now.

"How many of them have you collected so far?" she asked after a brief silence. She didn't think he'd reply, but a few minutes later, he muttered.

"A hundred and nineteen unique wizards."

She decided to relieve him, and picked up the card while he started to nibble on the chocolate. Albus Dumbledore.

Eh.

She looked up to see him licking the chocolate off his fingers, and he frowned at her. "What? They're good."

Deciding to keep her mouth shut just to prevent herself from saying anything stupid, she reached over and opened one of the books he'd gotten. "Hogwarts?"

"Magic school," he spoke, his voice muffled. "Are you absolutely sure you don't want one?"

She made a dismissive sound, too engrossed in the book. She'd only just begun, when she felt something wave in front of her eyes. Reg held out a strange item towards her, and she warily took it, spinning it in between her fingers.

"Licorice wand."

"What else do you lot have? Sugar butterflies? Sugar spiders? Sugar cockroaches?"

"All of the above. There are sugared butterfly wings, and something called cluster cockroaches, but I don't think you'd like them very much."

She stared at him, waiting for him to let on that he wasn't actually serious, but he did no such thing. "You're joking."

"I'm not. See, there's this shop called Honeydukes, it's absolutely fantastic. You have all sorts of sweets in there, it's the best thing on the planet." He took out another licorice wand for himself and waved it about, looking and feeling absolutely carefree. "You even have these Blood Lollipops, I'm sure you'd bloody love it. That wasn't intended. And they also have these jellybeans, that have the most random tastes."

"Like...a banana jellybean?"

"No. I mean, yes, they do have banana jellybeans, but that's the least wild thing there."

She nodded. "I suppose your hair takes first place."

He glared at her. "It's fashionable."

"Never said it wasn't or that I didn't like it." She took another bite out of the licorice wand, savoring the taste. "What's it like in Hogwarts?"

"Amazing," he leaned back, relaxed, and she gazed at him, absolutely enraptured by the way he looked in Muggle jeans. She didn't know where he'd got them from, but holy shit they suited him. Clearing her throat, she snapped back to reality, hoping that he didn't catch her staring at him. Thankfully, he was gazing off into the metaphorical sunset with a dreamy look on his face, so he didn't seem to notice, thank God. She'd have died of mortification if he had. "You know what? I'll take you there one day. I'll give you the entire bloody wizard experience, Hogsmeade and Hogwarts and Honeydukes and all. Words simply can not do the place justice."

"Okay, but how has nobody found it yet? How will we get there? I think we'd have noticed a magic school in the country by now."

"See, Alessandra, there's this thing called magic, and we can do anything with it, including disguising large objects like castles."

"Anything?" she wondered, her cheeks pink as she watched him

What the actual bloody hell was wrong with her?

"Anything," he agreed, washing his hands and coming back to sit down.

"What about time travel?"

"We can, but it's dangerous."

"What about... healing a broken bone?"

"In a second."

"Holy crap... what about changing your appearance to someone else?"

"Polyjuice potion, we learn about it in seventh year."

"Okay, what about conjuring food out of nowhere?"

He paused. "You can't do that. Magic has some limitations, but there are very few."

She deflated at that, her hopes of having a stress-free dinnertime squashed. It only lasted for a moment, however, and excitement rose up in her again. "Tell me about the classes you have at Hogwarts."

He was only too happy to oblige. "The first thing you need to know is that there are four houses. There's Gryffindor, which is the worst there is, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, which are mediocre, and Slytherin, which is the best House of them all."

"I'm guessing you're in Slytherin."

"Shush. Anyways, the houses have different colours and different emblems..."

No less than an hour later, half an empty bottle of wine was plopped on the table, and her head was laid on Reg's lap while she read the book on Hogwarts.

"And then there's Slughorn, who's annoying, the bloke's too cheerful. And he's such an arse-kisser, it's fucking irritating. He invites people from wealthy families to this idiotic club called the Slug Club-" he snorted and roughly grabbed the neck of the bottle to have another sip of the wine. "-and every bloody time he walks up to me and asks me about my family and the gold they have in their vault. I know he doesn't like me, because I blew up his prized moustache during potions in third year, and it hasn't grown since. Well, it's that bloody git Evan's fault in the first place, fucking arsehole put all the blame on me."

Her smile faded as she recalled Evan. Evan Rosier. Her brother, or half-brother. She had a brother. He was around the same age as her, he had to have been younger, since he was the same age as Reg and she was slightly older than him. Did he even recognize her? He seemed so cheerful, so unsuspecting, when he'd strolled up to her, and he was so close to his mother (it could still be a facade, but it just seemed so real). She yearned for that kind of relationship, she wanted a mother figure who would braid her hair and tell her fairytales and bake with her and give her advice on boys.

She was brought back to Earth with a sharp flick on her forehead, delivered by Regulus.

"Don't think about them."

How did he know what was going on in her head? He couldn't have possibly used that Legili-thing he was talking about, because he assured her that he wouldn't invade her privacy like that. It was uncanny how he just seemed to be privy to most of her unspoken thoughts.

"Easier said than done."

"Honestly, they're better off without you and you're better off without them. Do you think they're even thinking about you right now, love? They couldn't care less, so you shouldn't care either."

She frowned, and reached up to flick his forehead back, shivering a little as a few locks of his hair came in contact with her fingers. "You don't have to be so blunt about it," she muttered, knowing that everything he was saying was true but still thinking about her blood relatives.

He scoffed and pulled the wine bottle towards himself, chugging its contents down before tossing it over to the side, where it rolled over. He ran his thumb across his lip, and it was such a simple gesture but it set off an entire chain reaction within her. "I'm being honest. You're fine the way you are, in fact, you're fucking fantastic the way you are, absolutely bloody perfect."

A strange, hot, dizzying sensation swept over her like a tidal wave, dousing her in a contrasting amalgamation of emotions, none of which she could place. She felt chilly yet warm, delighted yet embarrassed, and happy yet crushed. All of these feelings had just dropped onto her like a pile of bricks and she felt like they were crushing her soft heart to pieces.

There was something about drunk Regulus that she found absolutely endearing (not to say that she didn't like sober Regulus any more or less). He'd just talk about anything and everything without giving a flying fuck about the consequences, and it was a stark contrast to his sober form, when he was much more guarded because of his upbringing and surroundings. Drunk Regulus was the one like an open book, who let his guard down, and she hoped that one day they'd be close enough for him to be this forthright even if he wasn't inebriated.

"Er... you're... perfect too?" she phrased it, more like a question than a statement because she for the life of her couldn't figure out what to say to him, she was too flustered by his adoring words and the way he was looking at her like she was the only human being in the world.

He snorted, and tipped his head back mournfully, combing back her hair with slender fingers. She nearly melted at that point, wanting to close her eyes but still enjoying the view overhead too much. Wisps of wind ruffled his hair back, revealing features that weren't too sharp but had the perfect angle to them, and he was so still that he almost looked like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was something she wanted to see every day, to her, at least, it seemed better than any art that the Louvre could possibly display.

"As if."

"What do you mean?" she frowned, noticing that he no longer looked as high-spirited as before, instead adopting a glum appearance. She wanted the more cheerful Regulus back now, the one who had no qualms about licking chocolate off his fingers, speaking his mind and flicking her on the forehead (although she did prefer that he abstain from the latter).

"There's always someone better there. Someone with better O.W.L results and better Quidditch skills and better ambitions," he rambled on, his eyes faraway and red-rimmed and glossy. "Nothing's good enough, there'll always be more. I'll always be second-best at most."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but shut his mouth and ran his hand over his face, looking lower than low and absolutely desolate. She sat up and wrapped her arms around him, trying to come up with the right words to say. This was one of those situations where she didn't think anything she said would truly make anything better, because Reg's problems were clearly more deep-rooted, but he didn't need advice at that moment. He needed comfort, and she didn't mind giving him that at all when he'd given her so much more.

"I feel like... you're dwelling on it too much. You're overthinking it, you're focusing on your lowest moments instead of remembering what your highest ones were."

"I don't have a 'high' moment, though."

"The empty bottle on the floor begs to differ. Anyways, my point is that in a world with millions, billions of humans, nobody can be the 'best'. All you can do is try your hardest and do your best, and if someone still has a problem with it, they can go fuck themselves. Sure, you've had your moments where you've been a right arse, but you've had so many more moments where you've proven that there's more to you than just the guy that messes up." She let out a long breath, feeling like a dam had opened inside of her, letting out all these thoughts she'd never be brave enough to voice. "And, if it helps... you're just never going to be second-best for me, ever. You, Regulus Black, are a hell of a lot a better person than any other goddamn human being I've ever met."

She pulled away a little to face him, gauging his reaction from the few glimpses of feeling that flickered off his face. She had no idea what he was thinking or what he was feeling or whether he was just going to toss her aside and laugh at her and call her ridiculous and sappy, and she was so lost in her own mind and circumstances that it took her a while to realise the position they were entwined in. A deadly silence had fallen, and they were currently embracing by a window and gazing at each other like they'd never seen the other before in their lifetime. It was so comfortable, until it was awkward.

Oh.

Oh.

What could she do in this situation? She could move forward and do the unthinkable, which could lead to two scenarios: it would jeopardise their relationship only days after Walburga had 'permitted' them to continue being around each other, or they'd kiss and live in a castle happily ever after.

Probably the latter option.

So she gently pulled herself back, slipping out of his arms as easily as she'd slipped in, and clearing her throat to try and dissipate some of the awkwardness while she staggered to her feet. They both came to a silent agreement that what had just happened would not be spoken of, and tried to resume conversation.

"You should...probably go, before... you know..." she mumbled, her words barely coherent as she kicked herself for being so verbally challenged in front of him in that moment. It was just a boy, just Regulus, whom she'd known for months now, so why was she behaving so strangely around him?

He nodded and stood up, surprisingly steady considering the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed mere minutes ago. "We didn't find anything."

"Actually, I found something a while back- oh, oops," She'd accidentally kicked the glass bottle on the floor, causing it to tip over and shatter into a thousand pieces, and she hastily mended it with her magic before moving it aside. Stretching out her hand, she willed the book in front of her to come sailing into her hands, and tiptoed over to him to show him what she'd found. "You said that Moldywart was probably targeting the founders' relics, and this is probably insignificant, but it says that the lion guy's sword is at Hogwarts."

He'd have laughed at the 'lion guy' statement if he wasn't so absorbed in that single paragraph, which said:

Godric Gryffindor, having no heirs to pass his precious belongings to, decided to pass them to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, because he had dedicated most of his life to the development of the prestigious educational institution for magic. The most famous of these items were his enchanted hat (more popularly known as the Sorting Hat) and the revered Sword Of Gryffindor, both of which hang in the Headmaster's Office.

"Dumbledore." He put the book aside and started grabbing up his things before making his way over to the door.

"Yeah, but I don't think a Horcrux would be hidden right under his nose, so it could just be a dead end."

"It's worth a try," he told her whilst he patted himself down in the mirror, trying not to look too scraggly in case his mother decided to lay in wait for him (which she probably had). "See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she whispered, wondering how different it would have been if she'd gathered up the courage to move just a few inches closer. "See you."

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