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Chapter 4
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Marching on through the awkwardness that Regulus Black's presence dictates is a trial of determination and iron will.
Poppy endures.
She grumbles through an announcement that the bathroom is just down the hall, but that it's only available while her parents are out visiting Lily's new home.
The look of sheer loathing Regulus had graced her with would lead a person to think she were a Gryffindor mudblood and not a Hufflepuff one; she's happy enough as his penultimate enemy.
Snorting at the thought, Poppy flips to the next page of her reading material, eyes scanning the page for any key terminology that could possibly help with her essay.
She's being petty, refusing to apparate Regulus away until her parents are home safe from Lily's, but he got himself into this mess. She was just the one to bail him out this time, so he's going to have to deal with it for today. And… she's almost missed this. Almost.
"How in Merlin's name did you get a hold of this!"
The snarl has Poppy peering up from yellowed pages to stare over at Regulus.
Regulus who's sat with a look of utter outrage on his face and a weathered old tome held in his hands, the tenderness of his grasp at odds with his highly offended posture.
"A hold of-"
"Wreano Warncavel's theories on multi-layered charms!"
He brandishes it at her as if presenting stolen goods, as if she had illegally obtained it; like she should feel guilty or something.
Poppy blinks, cocking her head to a side while flicking the book she'd been reading closed.
Evidentially Regulus Black is incapable of being anything other than the most conspicuous thing in the vicinity.
"How did you get this, we've been looking for a Warncavel book for three generations and you, a mudblood, just so happens to have one in your possession?" He sneers again, though the expression drops right off his face as he peers down at the book in his grasp. Reverently, he runs the tips of his fingers along the spine, peeling the front cover back to stare at the pages within, eyes glimmering with unconcealed awe.
Regulus Black is geeking out. Regulus Black is geeking out over a book right in front of her.
Lips quirking up at the corners, Poppy drops her cheek into the closed fist of her hand, elbow balanced upon the back of her chair as she takes the sight in. He'd always been the untouchable pureblood, always with his head held high and a demeanour that made him appear inviolable.
This isn't pureblood Black; what she's seeing right now is Regulus. Just Regulus.
It's appealing.
"I got it from the lost and found at Hogwarts," Poppy finally explains, tapping the tip of her dry quill to the edge of her parchment.
"The lost and found. This belongs to another student." His fingers twitch, curling around the book and Poppy just knows he's trying not to start reading right away, to start flicking through each page and begin devouring all the knowledge the tome contains. It'd been an interesting read; he's got a good eye for books has Regulus Black.
"With the amount of shit in the lost and found, I wouldn't be surprised if that book was lost years ago."
"And you just helped yourself to it."
"Well no one else was using it." She smiles, a cocky little thing that Regulus can probably only see out of the corner of his eyes, but that quick glimpse is enough to inspire the tensing of his shoulders, the scowl that crosses his face only strengthening the upturn of her lips. "So, you know, finders-keepers an' all. You as a Slytherin should appreciate that."
She needs another book.
Sliding out of her chair, Poppy stalks over to her bookshelf, wary of the pureblood sat primly upon her bed, his entire body tense. It's as if he's trying to ensure as little of his person touches his current surroundings as possible. As if mudblood is a contagious disease or something.
Rolling her eyes, Poppy crouches to inspect the titles, hands tucked between her knees for balance as she leans forwards to get a better look.
There's a sharp intake of breath behind her as her eyes find the book she'd been looking for, one hand swiftly wiggling it out from between it's neighbours.
As it passes through the shelves the magic takes effect, popping it up to its original size. It's so much easier to store books when they're all charmed into uniform, pocketable little sized to squeeze onto the shelf.
Tucking the book beneath her arm, Poppy swings around, only for a hand to clamp down on her wrist.
She hisses, twisting at the grasp but it's stronger than she'd thought (it's not the arm with her wand holster, that should have been the arm he went for) and the sudden pull unbalances her.
Poppy lands on the bed, on Regulus with a winded grunt, even as she does her best to dig her elbow into his midriff.
He gasps but wrestles with her, grabbing for her other arm but this time Poppy's expecting it.
She catches his fingers, twisting them back even as Regulus rolls the both of them over, until he has the advantage of both height and weight. He's still got his shoes on and they're on her bed and that's pissing her off.
"What the fu-"
Lips smash against her own, violent and needy and robbing the breath from her words.
One of Poppy's arms is still caught in his, her own hand tight around Regulus' fingers and twisting them back at an angle that can't be comfortable.
"You talk too much," Regulus growls against her mouth, teeth darting forwards to dig into her lower lip, pulling at the captured flesh and Poppy groans.
Chasing after him, forcing him to release her lip so she can better slam their mouths back together, chapped flesh against chapped flesh. Back arching, chests pressed flushed, one leg already working its way up to hook around his waist as if they at this only a day ago, as if it's not been four months since they were last within three feet of each other.
"What happened to never getting within a foot of each other?"
"You came to me."
"I went there for other reasons and you know it," Poppy snaps, finally releasing Regulus' fingers so she can catch a hold of his hair instead.
She's never touched it before; it'd always been perfectly coiffed, styled just so and to muse it was to ruin it, to give a hint of just what had occurred and neither of them were that stupid.
Right now though, there's no one to hide from.
Forcibly jerking his head to a side, she wraps her lips around his jawline, tongue running flat over the sharp edge and sucking hard.
He hisses, pressing her still bound hand to the mattress, clenching hard as his hips work into her own.
This is familiar, they'd spent more than one evening rutting away in desolate corridors, her back to the wall and Regulus between her legs, rocking away, racing to orgasm. Because hell knows as soon as one of them was satisfied, there was no waiting around for the other to catch up.
This doesn't have the same pace though, the same rush.
It's missing.
Now there's just charge, charge as Regulus' fingers dig deep into her thigh, drawing her hips up to meet the cocksure grind of his own. There's charge and it's sparking and this is exactly why they'd walked away from each other.
Because there's no control, no restraint between them; it'd been fraying before and at some-point during their separation, it'd snapped.
"Are we actually going to get to the main event this time?"
Poppy'd be fine with the usual, the relief that comes with it, but there feels like something more to the air this time.
There's Regulus' pupils, blow wide and darkening his eyes.
There's the blood that's pounding at the back of her head, forcing her focus on him and him alone.
There's his breath, mingling with hers, his saliva on her lips.
"You're a mudblood."
"I can make do with my wand and some transfigurations if you're not willing," Poppy declares, ignoring the way her breath hitches as Regulus' hips roll one more time, harder and steadier than before.
"Such a bad little mudblood."
"You like it."
He's clearly tired of listening to her, for she gets silenced with a kiss.
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He's exactly where he didn't want to be; all sprawled out across the painfully muggle sheets, in this painfully muggle room, the protective layers of his clothing stripped away. He's covered in sweat, those fine baby hairs usually hidden with careful styling are now plastered to his forehead and it's all Evans' fault.
The bedsheets are rougher than his own, but it's not exactly like he could have had his way with Evans in his own room.
It's not he'd have wanted her to sully his room with her presence. He wouldn't.
He wasn't supposed to get caught up in her, he wasn't supposed to survive the potion (his throat is still scorching, there's still twitches to his fingers and he's struggling to focus past all those horrible, twisted little thoughts that've been stirred up) and he certainly wasn't supposed to sleep with Evans.
It's all her fault.
Uppity little mudblood, bending over by that bookshelf like that, pushing her rear out, the full curve accented by the light spilling in from the window.
A fucking tease.
And it's worked too.
Regulus can't bring himself to care now that his hand rests atop her hip, now that his fingers have dug into that taunt flesh and left her gasping beneath him.
"You're heavy," Evans grumbles out, laid beneath him and there's sharp stings striped across his shoulders, light red welts left there by Evans' shapely nails.
He won't be surprised if there's heel-shaped bruises on his back, given just how tightly she'd clung to him.
"And you're feral," Regulus grunts, never the less edging off her to lay on his side, still palming the swell of her hip, thumb brushing over the sharp jut of her hipbone.
Evans' teeth snap together just a hair's breadth from his collarbone, eye glinting and a cheeky smile on her face.
Like this, she's almost pleasant company.
It's the blood that's a problem. Blood that'd flushed her cheeks pink, blood that'd beaded up on her lip when he'd bit too hard.
Blood that, for one horrifying moment, Regulus almost dismisses.
But his mind comes careening back to him before he can do anything, say anything that he'd regret forever.
His lips stay shut, that one quick, traitorous thought is never voiced aloud.
He's got his own shit to deal with. Like destroying that Horcrux. The horcrux…
Was that why Evans was there?
Eyeing the Hufflepuff shrewdly, Regulus remains perfectly still as pale fingers brush along his temples, smoothing out the baby hairs and that settles it.
This absolutely cannot happen again.
This isn't using each other, this is getting dangerously close to something more, something close to co-dependency and that is completely unacceptable.
"That's the first time you've ever got me off."
And from the sharp blue of her eyes, Evans' noticed it too. He'd like to say that had been an error of judgement, but recalling the sheer surprise on her face, the way her hips had bucked so deliciously, how fingers had clenched in those muggle sheets as her lips formed quick gasping breaths; no, that's not something he's going to regret doing. Just this once.
It's not as if it'll ever happen again.
"Well, time to get rid of you," Evans mutters, drawing her hand back from his face.
He knows the way her fingers flutter against his cheekbone isn't intentional, that it's not longing.
"What happened to waiting for the muggles?" He snipes, smoothly rising from the bed and snatching up his pants as he goes. The carpet is rough against his toes, but nowhere near as coarse as the tough fabric that consisted of Evans' blue skirt, the one he'd peeled from her hips and thrown to the floor. How she can wear that, he had no idea.
"I don't really need to wait around for them," she drawls, piling her hair up and making no move to cover herself. There's bruises marring her collarbones now, pepper across her skin like nundu print. Nundu is perhaps the most appropriate term he can offer her; she's certainly poisonous enough, would destroy his life if he breathed her in.
"I need you gone."
He can see it on her face; that same fear of becoming something substantial.
He's better than she could ever hope for, but she doesn't want him. Not like that.
And it's not as if they could ever work either.
He's a Black, purer blood runs in the veins of no other.
And Evans, she's as common as they come.
He needs to focus on hiding, on faking his death, and there's only one family member he can turn to for that.
So, this chapter didn't turn out as explicit as I was expecting, but in my defence, I've been up since quarter to five, so it's miracle any writing got done at all really. (but 2000 word chapters are so easy to crack out so maybe that's not such a surprise) Enjoy.
Thanks for reading,
Tsume
xxx