Instalment Nine
"Hide me." She was still smiling, and she even waved at Eleanor Rosier, but her tone was desperate.
"Why?" he asked, an amused smile dancing about his lips. He handed her a flute of champagne, whilst watching the dancing couples.
"I think William Gamp is about to propose," she told him hurriedly, turning her back to the dancers, as if that would stop William from finding her. "Mother keeps making approving remarks about him, and he looks far too serious for a summer ball."
Regulus laughed, smoothing a hand over his hair. "I thought you liked William."
"I do," she said with a pout. "But as a distraction. No-one wants to watch Punch and Judy for their entire lives."
He suppressed a laugh at her description of the eldest Gamp son. He winked at a blushing Blishwick girl, before replying, "William is a fine young man. You could do a lot worse."
"Can we discuss his merits somewhere else?" she demanded, her hands finding her hips, which would have been more intimidating if her hands had not slipped due to the peach coloured silk. "We can talk about him all night if you like, but please. Take me away somewhere."
He raised an eyebrow. "And why would I want to talk about William Gamp all night? Especially when I can stay right here and watch Ilana Goyle. I think she needs to talk to her seamstress. I'm sure a permit is needed for a dress like that."
Flushed, Henrietta stood in front of him, grabbing his tie so he had to look at her. "If you want I will discuss Ilana's relative merits all night, but first take me elsewhere."
He laughed, and took her hand. "Is the rose arbour a suitable place?" he asked.
"Well, I'd prefer the walled garden," she replied, as he led her to the nearest door, "but I suppose we can go watch the Greengrasses have a particularly nasty argument."
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Of course, they didn't talk about Ilana Goyle, because to be frank, there was little to be said about such a shallow girl. Instead, they talked about the golden future that Lord Voldemort had promised, and how they imagined themselves in it.
More than once Regulus found himself distracted by her beauty and not her argument, but he did his best to cover himself with a well-placed "I agree." He had never used to think of her that way, but since his mother had been pushing him to name a bride, he found himself coming back time and again to their kiss in the library. It wasn't his only kiss, good gracious no, but it was the only one that intrigued him. He wondered what she would do if he kissed her right now, if he wound those dark curls through his fingers.
"And, I swear, I will not marry a dolt like William Gamp." Her words were tinged with vehemence and when his gaze dropped from her face, he saw that her fists were clenched. He slid onto the stone bench next to her, placing his now empty brandy glass on the floor, before gently placing his hands on top of hers.
"He would be lucky to have you," he murmured quietly. "Any man would be honoured to have you as their wife."
Henrietta glanced down at where their hands touched, and then looked up at his face. "You look so serious." She smiled. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about marriage again. Has your mother said anything more about your special lady?" He didn't reply, but tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "Regulus?" She frowned. "Are you feeling-"
And then his lips were on hers, a hand cupping her face as though he were afraid she would break. And somehow, wonderfully, she was kissing him back, pulling him closer, and he found his fingers running through her dark hair. It felt like hours later when they pulled apart, both flushed. He watched silently, as she discarded the few pins that hadn't quite fallen out of her hair, her dark curls spilling down over her shoulders.
"Marry me."
She stared at him for couple seconds before a grin spread across her face. "Perhaps I had better wait and see how William proposes. I'm sure he will give me roses."
"Fuck William Gamp," Regulus said fervently, one of his hands still curled around hers, then sighed as she arched a an amused eyebrow. "That's not what I meant. Henrietta, I love you."
"You could have mentioned this before," she said with a smile. "I'm sure I've given you several opportunities."
He laughed and placed a kiss on her hand. "Marry me. Go on, it'll be fun."
She shifted in her seat, turning more towards him. "And what does your mother think about this?"
He shrugged. "She'll get over it," he told her before he kissed her cheek.
"What about your father?" she asked quietly, her dark eyes meeting his.
He shook his head. "He doesn't care," he murmured, his face millimetres from hers. "He lets me do whatever I want."
"Well," she breathed, a finger gently tracing his jawline. "You make an excellent argument, but I think I'd like to hear your opening point again."
He grinned before kissing her again.
