Black Rose [Regulus Black]

What. The. Fuck.

Regulus blinked, trying to make sense what was happening.

It did not help.

A little blonde girl holding some sort of stick bumped into his legs, and his eyes widened when she beamed up at him. She had on some sort of green knee-length dress and weird things that stuck out of her back, resembling wings but not quite.

"Trick or Treat?" she yelled, causing him to startle a little. He was completely struck dumb by that, because what the fuck?

The child's gaze stayed on him, expectant and curious, and he did not like it one bit. It made him nervous. His hand reached out to jiggle Alessandra's door handle desperately, the piece of metal making a little clicking sound but not giving way to open the door.

This reminded him of a situation he'd had with a Grindylow. The Grindylow was just as charming and just as confusing as this "child", and he needed to move away as soon as possible.

As though his darling girlfriend was able to sense his desperation through a thick slab of wood, she swung open the door, a wide smile on her face...

...and instead of feeling the familiar sense of comfort he was used to experiencing around her, his heartbeat skyrocketed and chills swept over him.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, ignoring the shriek the child beside him let out.

"Mommmmm! The scary man just used a bad word!"

"Don't swear in front of children!" Alessandra hissed, grabbing him with a taloned hand and tugging him inside. "Here sweetie, happy Halloween."

The girl was apparently mollified by the small sweets Alessandra plopped into her pumpkin (pumpkin??), and backed away, glaring at Regulus as she left. Alessandra beamed at her as she shut the door, and then rounded on Regulus, who did a double take upon seeing her again.

Alessandra was dressed in a flowy black dress that reached till her ankles, and a puffy red wig. Her eyes were lined with smudged eyeliner and red droplets eerily seemed to trickle from them. Her lips were tinted a sickly shade of blue and were those... bloodstains... on her dress?

"What. The. Fuck?" he gasped out, drawing his wand. "What's going on?"

"Jesus, calm down!" Alessandra snapped. "It's Halloween, not a terrorist attack!"

"Why are you dressed like that? Are you even Alessandra?" Reg demanded, his wand not wavering.

"Of course I am," she rolled her eyes. "You need to calm down."

"What is happening?!"

"It's Halloween..."

He wracked his brain, trying to understand the correlation between All Hallows' Eve and dress-up. "I don't get it," he mumbled, feeling stupid.

"Oh! I keep forgetting you haven't experienced enough in this world, sorry, I've seen more of you here than there, you know?" The confusion disappeared from her eyes, replaced with apology. "Children dress up on Halloween here and go from house to house for trick-or-treating, and people give them candy."

"But... why?"

"Honestly, I don't really know," she said thoughtfully. "I remember doing this from a very young age in the orphanage. Every year, this small group of friends would play the most absurd pranks during the week leading up to Halloween, and people would come by to give us candy, which was honestly so nice of them. We played dress-up too — we would go by this thrift store and mix and match the most absurd clothes to come up with something."

Regulus' wand arm dropped and his lips parted as he stared at an enamoured Alessandra whose eyes were far away, as though she was living in a delightful combination of her dreams and her past. That feeling he experienced around Alessandra began blooming inside him, taking up space in every crevice of his body and making him feel light-headed.

Over a decade gone without her, and what a decade wasted.

Alessandra snapped back to reality and blushed when she noticed Reg's intense gaze, shaking her head. "Come on, time to get you dressed up."

"I- what?" He let himself be pulled further into the house by her, clutching her hand like it was a lifeline. He was very confused. "What for?"

"Halloween, duh! So, what do you want to dress up as?"

"Nothing-"

She grinned coyly. "As much as we'd all enjoy that, I don't think nudity is appropriate for the children."

Something stirred within him, pleasant and unpleasant at the same time, and he fought down the heat rising to his cheeks, smirking a little. "I don't want to dress up."

"But why?" she pouted, and he suddenly felt very tempted to give in. He probably would have if it weren't his dignity at stake.

"Because," he mumbled, "it's embarrassing."

The moment the words came out of his mouth, he knew it was a mistake. He could feel that the temperature in the room had dropped at least ten degrees when she narrowed her eyes.

"Are you saying I should be embarrassed?"

"Of course not," he protested. "You look wonderful. I mean, it's not that you don't look wonderful every day, but moreso than usual. Your usual is also great, fant-"

"It's settled then," she beamed. "You're dressing up."

He did not like the gleam in her green eyes. It was too much like the one his brother wore years ago before putting maggots in their mother's wardrobe.

⚜

When Regulus was thirteen and Sirius was fourteen, Sirius said that Regulus was the kind of person who would hate fun. The kind of person that would rather get beaten up by a unicorn than laugh, who would rather swallow toads than give up suits, who would rather wax his pubes (Sirius' words, not his!) than let his hair run wild.

And look at him now, just over half a decade later, doing all three of them, at no expense.

Other than his dignity, of course.

Take that, Sirius.

Were his clothes uncomfortable? Yes, the dull straw-colour of his full-sleeved t-shirt was nauseating, and his jeans were far too tattered for his liking.

Was his hair uncomfortable? Yes, he hated that it was running unkempt under the large, itchy, wide-brimmed hat he was made to wear.

He blankly stared at a grinning Alessandra as she placed a coil of rope in his right hand, wondering how his life had come to this point.

Regulus Black was dressed up as a cowboy in his Muggle girlfriend's house, prepared to give candy to loud children who were dressed up equally as madly.

What the fuck.

"You look fabulous."

"I'm sure I do," he grumbled.

"Cheer up," she nudged his chin up with her finger, grinning at him. "You'll be thanking me soon. October 31st is one of my favourite days for a reason, and you'll find out why."

He shelved that information away for later. "I don't think I will enjoy this very much, darling, sorry."

"You will!" she insisted. "Okay, maybe not, but it's still worth a try! Nobody will judge you for this, and you're going to have a great time. It's all light-hearted fun, I'm sure you'll love it."

There was a pause, and her eyes shone with such hopefulness that he felt compelled to let her put makeup on him too as she originally wanted to (he was firmly against it).

"Yeah, I don't think I will, but we'll see."

She sniggered. "And here I was thinking my little motivational speech was enough."

"It's not you, it's me," he mocked. He'd seen plenty of romance movies with Alessandra over the past few weeks to get the hang of this whole 'dating' thing (kind of).

A laugh bubbled up out of her as the doorbell rang, and he mentally filed that sound away too.

"Trick or treat!" a boy squealed.

"Treat!" Alessandra cooed, and he felt irrationally jealous of the bright smile she sent at their way. "You make a wonderful prince," she murmured, shovelling a handful of candy into his basket. "Doesn't he, Regulus?"

He stared at the boy who looked around eight, willing himself to say something. "Yes," he managed. "The Prince William has nothing on you."

William? Is it William?

He remembered it was some Muggle-sounding name, like William or Steve or something.

He forgot all about him when his girlfriend grinned at him, and then wondered what was happening to him. It was not normal for him to become some tongue-tied loon everytime a beautiful woman smiled at him.

His beautiful woman.

This was sorcery.

Hours flew by, although they started to feel like minutes as he eased more into the situation. The itch from his thin shirt faded away, and he kept secretly stealing some of the sweets — they were called peanut butter cups, apparently —from Alessandra's bag when her back was turned (she knew).

"I'm proud of you," Alessandra said, when the Halloween rush had died down, "You even managed to give a few kids candy without staring at them wide-eyed as though they were weapons of mass destruction!"

He rolled his eyes at her, taking another peanut butter cup for himself. "It wasn't that bad."

"I told you!" she exclaimed jubilantly.

"It doesn't mean I'm willing to do this again, it wasn't complete fun either."

"We'll see," she replied, a conniving grin plastered on her face.

Something within him flickered at the prospect of having to do this again next year, and the year after that, and the decade after that. For the first time in years, he actually looked forward to the next day of his life, a feeling completely foreign to him after years of disparagement and disappointment being hurled at him.

For the first time in years, he wanted to fight for the future for himself, not just for everybody else.

He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, and she put her hands on his arms, the fake talons causing him to hiss and her to mutter an apology. He buried his face in her hair, taking in her scent, and he felt so very alive in that moment, feeling waves of positive emotion finally bursting out through the negative thunderclouds in his mind, like sunrays after a storm.

It gave him more incentive to fight for his future. Their future.

That reminded him.

"Dumbledore wants to see us tomorrow at night," he mumbled into the crook of her neck.

"Ah, that's why you're being so nice."

"It's not all that bad," he laughed softly, and then sat up straight. "Wait, you'll actually get to see Hogwarts tomorrow."

"Really? Aren't we gonna meet up at-"

"No, he wants us to come down to Hogwarts tomorrow in the afternoon." His mind had woken from its sleepy, satisfied state and was now running a million miles per hour as he made plans for them at Hogwarts.

She had to see the Quidditch Pitch.

⚜

"This is the best thing I've ever tasted," Alessandra gushed the next morning, practically inhaling the entire slice of lemon cake on her plate. "You have to get this for the wedding."

"You've said that about every cake they've brought in so far," Chelsea complained, amused by the expressions on her best friend's face.

As Chelsea's Maid of Honour, it was Alessandra's duty (read: privilege!) to accompany the bride-to-be for the cake tasting, and so far, every option they'd tasted had sent Alessandra's soul to heaven. Lennon Bakery's cakes were amazing (also, expensive): they were everything good in the world wrapped in a pretty package and delivered with sparkling forks.

"Then get them all!"

Chelsea burst into laughter. "I can't blow the entire budget on cake."

"This is not cake," Alessandra insisted, scraping off a piece of cream-cheese frosting with her fork. "This is the stuff the Gods eat up there."

"Alright, Miss Eloquent, which cake do you think was the best?"

Alessandra hummed, thinking to herself. "The chilli-chocolate cake."

"I thought so too!" Chels exclaimed. "I would give up my soul for it, it was that good."

"If I could, I would eat it as all three meals of the day, even if it meant I have to exercise half the day to burn off the calories."

"So it's agreed then? Chili chocolate cake?"

"Yeah, but," Alessandra lowered her voice. "Could we pretend like we haven't chosen yet? Ask for more options? I've still got some room left."

"I hate to break it to you but the server already heard us."

"Dammit."

Fifteen minutes later, they were walking out of the bakery, satisfied because of their full stomachs and because they checked off an item on Chelsea's enormous wedding checklist.

"How much more do you have left?"

"Like, a lot. More than half of what's to be done."

"Really? I thought we were done with more than half. How much do you even have on there?"

"You think this is a lot? You should see Petunia's wedding checklist. I was talking to Macy, who's her bridesmaid, and Petunia has hundreds of things for them all to do."

"Not surprised, honestly," Alessandra rolled her eyes at the thought of the brunette, who had always been condescending towards her because of her background.

"You know what's surprising though?" Chelsea's voice dropped down to a whisper. "Petunia's pregnant."

"You're joking," Alessandra gasped. It wasn't a big deal to her, but it was probably a big deal for Petunia, who often looked down upon other women for having children before marriage.

"Nope. She found out about a week ago. Apparently, she completely freaked out, and is now pushing for a wedding in two months."

"What? From a year away to two months? Her poor bridesmaids."

"Yeah," Chelsea snorted. "Hundred page checklist to be done in 30 days instead of 300. Totally manageable."

"I know this sounds cruel, but I'm kinda looking forward to it blowing up in her face."

"I don't think it's half as cruel as the shit she said to you over the years," Chelsea said, her pretty features marred with hatred. Alessandra knew her friend was cheerful and light-hearted and laughed off most of what the 'higher society' said, but even Chelsea had snapped once or twice due to the remarks Petunia made about Alessandra being poor.

Sometimes, Alessandra felt a smidge guilty about Chelsea being ostracized by a few of her 'friends' due to their friendship. She'd even apologized for it but Chelsea refused to hear it, not caring as much about social standing.

"Don't hold what she's said to me against her, it's fine."

"It's really not," Chelsea insisted. "It's deplorable, how she looked down on someone for not coming from a similar, 'wealthy' social background."

"Yeah, but I wish you wouldn't hold a grudge against her for it. It would make things a lot easier for you, just going with it. Those are the people you have to be surrounded with, so why not just go with it?"

"Would you?"

She halted, thinking about it.

"Probably not."

"There we go. It would be easier not to scatter dirt where I eat, but in this case it would be wrong. I mean, we all know she'd be nothing without all that bullshit, her social standing is the only thing keeping her standing up, or she'd fall over due to lack of spine. I'd rather live life knowing I'm right than live life bowing to something like that."

Alessandra realised then that Sirius and Chelsea were so similar yet so different. They were similar in the way that they'd both grown up to hate the society around them, but that's where the similarity ended. Chelsea's parents were nurturing and loving, while Sirius' were like swords using their children as sharpening rocks. 

And that, their upbringing, made a huge difference.

Fuck you, Walburga.

⚜

Regulus Black hated Albus Dumbledore.

He was so two-faced.

Dumbledore loved pretending to be genial and fun-loving, but on the inside, he clearly hated letting others have fun.

Because why else would Dumbledore forbid them from going to the Quidditch Pitch?

No, of course, it wasn't because they had more important matters at hand or that there were students roaming about and it was dangerous for them to be seen. No, it had to be because Dumbledore was a spiteful little shit.

"Perhaps in the summer," Dumbledore sat down calmly after welcoming them, crossing his hands composedly as though he hadn't just shat all over Regulus' dreams.

Was Regulus being dramatic? Absolutely fucking not, no, according to him.

"Would you like a sherbet lemon?" Dumbledore gestured towards the box of yellow sweets on his desk.

Alessandra and Regulus both turned a light shade of green at the very thought of eating more candy.

"Very well," Dumbledore sighed, the usual twinkle missing from his eyes. It was clear that the war was taking a toll on him and that things had gotten worse. "What information do you have for me?"

It was evident that the Order of the Phoenix needed a win.

"We may have a lead on a Horcrux, although we aren't quite sure what it may be." Alessandra opened the heavy book on Wizard Genealogy, opening to the Slytherin family tree. "Er... my... um, he had an uncle named Morfin Gaunt, who was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, of course. The Gaunts were known to flaunt their Slytherin status, unlike the other remaining bloodline, so they're more likely to have something else belonging to Slytherin, or something related to Voldemort's heritage."

Dumbledore pressed his index finger against his brow, his other hand tracing the intricate family tree going back centuries. "I distinctly remember hearing a little about Morfin Gaunt years ago, but can't seem to think of anything recent."

"He's in Azkaban."

Dumbledore sat up, not looking any happier than before but not looking as depressed either. The gears in his head were finally turning...

...and that made Regulus very nervous.

"You must go there then."

Of course.

"See, we would've already,"  Regulus said sarcastically. "But, you know, there's the minor hindrance of there being creatures that could suck out our souls and leave us as hollow shells."

"You remind me entirely too much of your older brother sometimes," Dumbledore sighed.

Regulus stiffened, and Alessandra placed her hand over his under the table, mentally urging him not to rise to whatever bait Dumbledore was putting out.

"We can't go to Azkaban. With clearance, it would look suspicious to the Dark Lord because he has eyes and ears everywhere. Without clearance, we'd just end up worse than dead with nothing gained."

"Of course we won't just throw you to the wolves."

"Could've surprised me," Regulus muttered, and Alessandra tilted her head up, trying her hardest not to laugh.

Dumbledore chose to ignore that. "From now on, for the next few weeks, Alastor will teach you both thrice a week how to cast a Patronus charm. You will meet at a secluded location, the exact coordinates of which neither of you will know for security reasons, and he'll help you master the Patronus so you can break into Azkaban and gain information."

This was absurd and spiralling out of control, yet nobody in the room had the energy to point that out.

"Okay," Alessandra said simply, seeing Regulus' blank expression and wondering what was going on there behind those grey eyes.

"You must not, however, mention to him the nature of your mission."

Regulus leaned forward, finding this interesting, because he'd always thought Moody and Dumbledore were as thick as thieves.

Why didn't Dumbledore trust Moody then?

"Why not?" he asked.

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose, looking every bit his age, and Regulus was surprised to feel a little bit of pity stir within him at the sight. "I, unfortunately, have had no luck finding the mole planted in our ranks, so we're taking every precaution possible to keep information confidential to detect the leak."

Alessandra's gaze flickered towards Regulus, whose eyes were alight with something, and she felt a flicker of suspicion.

Did Regulus know who it was?

She was fairly certain, based on the shift in his expression, that he knew something.

So why wasn't he saying it?

⚜

Around six hours later, Regulus had a terrible headache and an equally terrible mood.

The day had been exhausting. He barely had any time to interact with Alessandra, because he had to report to the Ministry early because some idiot had broken some idiotic protocol. Heskipped his lunch because of Dumbledore and then had to go back to the Ministry to deal with dunderheads who were likely to hold their wands the wrong way (one of them actually did, adding on to Regulus' problems).

He had a plan. It involved eating dinner and spending time in his astronomy hideout with his telescopes, which weren't people and therefore were unlikely to let himd own. Instead, he was stuck eating dinner with his apparently-fiancée.

Cressida.

Merlin, how had he almost forgotten about her?

He felt awful for a multitude of reasons. He was wronging Alessandra by merely letting this farce continue. He was wronging Cressida by letting her believe that they would get married. He was setting up a bomb that would blow up in his face by calling off the engagement.

The right thing to do would be to step up and say he would not be marrying Cressida. But, that would do more harm than good, he feared, because then his mother would be upset, maybe even suspect that it was Alessandra who had caused this (he knew his mother still hadn't gotten past it all even though it had been weeks). His mother wouldn't be quiet about her suspicions, no, she'd probably tell multiple people (all of them terrible), and knowing their circle, there was a good chance at least one of them was a Death Eater. Word would spread and then there'd be a price on both his and Alessandra's head.

Better to stay quiet and put this off for as soon as possible.

He set his spoon down, no longer having an appetite for the pie or astronomy (both of which he usually enjoyed). Having Cressida over and sitting in the home of his ancestors with his mother breathing down his neck had ruined his hunger and happiness, bringing tides of worry crashing down upon him not unlike the murky waters in that cave of Inferi...

The pale scars on his back tingled at that, and his lungs tightened a little.

So many problems, such less time, such less luck.

At least it was dessert. That meant Cressida would probably be going home soon, temporarily easing his concerns, although not by much.

He began counting all his problems mentally, a miserable expression on his face.

Dark Lord killing thousands of people, Dark Lord being his girlfriend's father who didn't know she existed or would definitely exploit her, best friend (who was his girlfriend's brother) not knowing his sister existed, having a forceful engagement that he desperately needed to break of, his betrayal to a murderous cult that endangered his girlfriend's life...

What more could life possibly throw at him?

As though sensing the pessimism swirling within him (even though he wasn't trying particularly hard to hide it), Cressida got up, breaking the awkward silence that had cast itself over the room. "I ought to be leaving now. The meal was wonderful, thank you, Walburga."

She didn't even make the food, it was all Kreacher, Regulus thought to himself sourly.

As though sensing his borderline treacherous thoughts, his mother settled her burning gaze on him, remaining silent until they heard the door shut.

"It's good to see that you're building a connection with your fiancée," she spoke primly, her fingers wrapping themselves around her goblet of wine.

Connection? I could hear crickets chirping, Mother, it was that awkward.

"Yes," he said stiffly. Normally, he'd feel guilty for being so distant with her because despite her overbearing tendencies, she was his mother. And, he was all she had left - she didn't let him forget. However, he felt drained.

Was it so wrong to expect her to understand how he felt?

"That's wonderful," she continued, either not picking up on the gloominess that had taken over him or choosing not to care. "Wedding planning has started, I think a summer wedding would be nice."

He stared at her. Was she that clueless or did she just not care at all?

She carried on, undeterred by the lack of response. "We'll be finalizing the marriage contract in spring."

It felt like he'd been struck with lightning at that sentence, for everything in him sprang to life, except he couldn't feel anything but a sense of horror and curiosity. "Marriage contract?"

He had completely forgotten about that.

"Yes, Regulus," she frowned at her son, as though surprised he couldn't understand this. "We need to make sure the Greengrasses don't back out of this arrangement."

He would've scoffed at the irony of that because her son was definitely going to back out of this in less than half a year, but he had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

"Mother, I have a question. How will we sign a marriage contract with the Greengrasses when we already have one standing with..." Her name died in his throat, because he didn't know how to bring her up without seeming suspicious.

Walburga stood up abruptly, her chair grating against the cold stone floor as it was pushed back. "Do not worry about that."

That made him worry more.

"It's a valid point, this would be a violation of the-"

"It has been taken care of." Grey eyes locked with each other, both filled with worry for different reasons. "Do not worry, Regulus, nothing will go wrong."

He had a feeling that those four words had sealed his fate. Everything would go wrong, and the marriage contracts were only the tip of the iceberg.

This was exactly how he'd felt while he was drowning.

⚜