The news of the break-up between Regulus Black and Wilson spread through the Slytherin house quickly.
It was met with glad anticipation by most female students, who began to vie for the new Black heir's attention despite his repeated assurance—always delivered with a smile—that he was not really looking for anyone, as the family business occupied most of his time. Rebecca Goyle was his chief undeterred suitor, and she found the newly vacant spot next to the Black heir during Potions especially satisfactory.
"You chop your roots so neatly, Regulus," Rebecca said in a loud voice one March afternoon. "But this must take so much effort. Do you practice?"
"Please, someone shut the slag up," Leila muttered irritably next to Alex. Rebecca had suddenly lost interest in Rosier over the holidays and Leila, although satisfied that Rosier's ego was hurt in the end, found Rebecca's inconstancy more unforgivable than Rosier's infidelity.
"It's just Rebecca," Alex muttered.
"How can you even stand the sight of her? It's like you're not bothered at all." Alex had failed to find a way to tell Leila that Regulus and she were fake-broken-up until he could find a way to convince his parents. She wasn't sure why she was so hesitant to tell Leila about the new development; perhaps because, despite everything, she knew that Leila disapproved of Regulus as her boyfriend—something that she and Sophia Wilson shared in common.
Alex tried to shrug nonchalantly. "I have better things to do." Leila clasped her shoulder in solidarity.
"Yes," she said solemnly. "I have a stack of Quidditch Today from last January to this year's first publication. You're more than welcome to join me for a round of statistical analysis, if you'd like."
"You mean writing down every score of Chudley Cannon games."
"Yes."
"Which are numerous."
"That's why you need statistical analysis."
"No thanks," Alex said. "Anyway, I've got plans with—"
"Let me guess, Henryk?" Leila's sly look did not go unnoticed. Alex was glad that her exasperation, which she didn't hide from her voice, was genuine. These days it felt like everything she said to everyone was—
"I told you several times, it's not like that."
"I dunno, you two spend a lot of time together."
"He's teaching me how to duel."
"Every evening."
"Apparently I'm very bad at it."
"Are you?"
"I managed to hit him twice yesterday."
"You know what I think? I think he's telling you you're worse than you actually are because he wants to be around."
"In two hours. I managed to hit him twice in two hours."
"Hmm." Leila's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Still. Spending two hours together every evening. That's two more hours than what we spend together every day."
"Leila, we sit together in every single class we have together."
"Because neither of us have any other choice!" Leila apparently had further plans to enumerate how pathetic their social lives were, but Slughorn's usual gratingly booming voice interrupted their conversation.
"Miss Parkinson, what do we have here?" Slughorn watched Leila's cauldron from distance, apparently fearing for his life a bit too much to approach it any closer.
"Draught of Drowsiness, Professor?" Leila said drily.
"Yes, and the vapors are forming…"
"A circular shape." Leila glanced at the board. "Oh." The instructions were clear: the vapors should form a diamond shape.
"Kindly try again from step two, Miss Parkinson, Miss Watson would presumably like to avoid getting her hands melted…" Chortling, Slughorn left their table, highly amused by his wit. Leila rolled her eyes.
"Tell you what," Leila said. "I'm not going to have enough time to finish the damned thing. Let me just nick some of yours, it's not like he's going to notice..." Not waiting for an argument, Leila grabbed the ladle between them and scooped several cups' worth of potions into her own cauldron.
"Oi!" Alex said, watching her own liquid diminish in half. "You know that I have to adjust the amount of every single ingredient now, right?"
"You're smart, I'm sure you can do it," Leila said. Shaking her head, Alex headed for the cupboard where Slughorn kept a stash of extra ingredients. On her way she couldn't help but glance at Regulus' and her usual table by the side, and unexpectedly, for a second, her eyes met his, the lovely shade of gray.
They were blank.
Henryk was his no-nonsense self that evening.
"I have to leave an hour early, Diggory scheduled a Quidditch practice," he said as he unceremoniously threw his backpack on the ground. The Great Hall housed more students than it did last semester as anxious seventh and fifth years began to study for their exams, but few bothered them in the corner.
"Okay," Alex said, watching him from her seat.
Henryk paused. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Nothing."
"It doesn't sound like nothing." Henryk looked at her with his unnervingly steady gaze. Alex rubbed her eyes.
"I'm sure you're already tired of hearing about it," Alex muttered. Henryk sighed and slumped on the ground beside her.
"It's fine," Henryk said. "But I don't think I'm going to change my mind on this, either. I don't think you should continue this—" Henryk made a vague gesture in the air— "with him. I think he's just taking advantage of you."
"You've said that already," Alex said to the ground.
Henryk was the only person who knew about her and Regulus, and even though he disapproved of their status as Leila would presumably do, Alex somehow found his disapproval comfortable. Her mother's disapproval always made Alex feel like she was less in her mother's eyes, and Leila's opinions were similarly full of judgement. But Henryk—it was hard to explain. It was what she and Regulus might have, Alex supposed, had he not been a pureblood Slytherin. She didn't know what to make out of this, however, so she let it rest; whether Henryk knew this or not, she didn't know, but he certainly didn't show it.
"I don't think you fully know it yet, though."
"Don't I?" Alex said, looking up at Henryk's face. Something between the stern lines of his jaw and brows softened at her expression.
"I think you're too young."
"You're two years older than me!" Despite everything, Alex laughed.
"And I have two sisters who are hopeless at romance!" Henryk laughed, too. "I did tell you about Cecilia and that—bloke with the brown coat, haven't I?"
"Yes," Alex said, rolling her eyes. "About a dozen times already."
"I'm telling you, she's better off without him. We all thought so."
"But—" Alex hesitated.
"But," Henryk said.
"He's—Reg. He was—he's still my best friend. I don't know how to let him go without losing my best friend. And I don't want to let him go, either. I want us. That's a stupid thing to want, I know, but I still do." She looked helplessly at Henryk, who was looking thoughtfully back at her.
"I just keep thinking," he said slowly. "You said that it's getting a bit too much, keeping up the ruse, pretending like he means nothing to you now. You said that every time you're in the same room together, it's like going against your basic impulse by staying away. That you're lying to everyone else and to yourself too."
"You remember everything, don't you?" Alex muttered at the floor, feeling embarrassed and a little glad despite herself at Henryk's accuracy.
"You said you wanted to tell Leila but couldn't," Henryk said. Alex nodded.
"You haven't told your mum either," Henryk continued.
"I don't think I can reach her by mail right now, honestly."
"Alex, this is making you miserable," Henryk said, exasperated.
"I know that—so what should I do?" Alex said, her voice growing louder. A couple of students sent annoyed glares their way and Alex receded into her place again, feeling forlorn.
"I think you already know," Henryk said. "End it. It's simple, isn't it?"
"But I don't want to end it," Alex said in a small voice.
"He means that much to you," Henryk stated the question.
Alex sighed. "Yes," she said in a small voice.
"You know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think you'll find someone else who'll actually merit how much he means to you." Henryk stood up and dusted his robes. "So should we get started on the practice? I think you almost had the second position yesterday, but you slipped when you looked at the girl trying to transform her owl into a pigeon."
"It was a parrot," Alex grumbled.
Forty-five minutes later Alex trudged down the lower corridors, feeling slightly uplifted despite the dismal results of the practice (Henryk's exact words were "you're not getting worse," which, Alex supposed, was his method of encouragement). But there were at least three different assignments that she needed to finish before the day was over, starting with revision for the Transfiguration essay—
Someone grabbed her arm from the dark and pulled her in, hard.
"What—" Alex said, reaching for her wand, but another hand grasped her wrist and pinned it down. Alex squinted in the dark, trying to see who it was, but—
"Relax," Regulus said in a low voice. "I was looking for you in the Common Room, but you weren't there." Already his hands had let go of her arms and were making their way from her shoulders to her waist, drawing her closer. Alex felt her lips pull into a smile automatically and tried to control her reaction—to no avail.
"I thought you had Quidditch practice," she said.
"The captain canceled the practice at the last minute," Regulus said.
"You're the captain," Alex said.
"Exactly." With that Regulus leaned in and kissed her.
If there was one thing that had progressed in any direction since winter break in their relationship, it was their physical intimacy—although Alex wasn't very sure if this progress was really a progress. Being with Regulus like this wasn't bad—it was quite good, when she let herself go a bit—but every once in a while the thought would creep into her head that Regulus was a boy, like any other boy, like the boys who tried to take advantage of her in her first year, and that would make her abruptly pull away. And yet her hands were still finding their place in Regulus' soft hair, his face, her fingertips slowly trailing the sharp lines of his jaw, making him moan and draw her even closer.
"I missed you," he murmured as he began to trail the line of her neck with kisses. Her eyes involuntarily fluttered close and her grip on his shoulders tightened.
"Regulus," Alex said, unsure if this was an encouragement or chastisement.
"Hmm?" Regulus answered vaguely, biting her ear. Alex let out a sigh.
"We need to talk," her voice sounded drowsy and unclear even to her ears, but Alex found that she wasn't beginning to mind, not at all…
It was clear that Regulus didn't hear what she said, either. Instead he pushed her harder up against the wall so that every line of their bodies was pressed together and began to move against her in earnest, his touch hot against her skin. Alex forgot where she was, exactly what qualms she had against Regulus being so close to her—surely, nothing that felt this good could ever be bad—
But suddenly he stopped, his back straightening in alertness. Something glinted in his eyes.
"Someone's coming," he muttered, and without waiting for an answer grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the alcove in the corridor, finding a door that Alex had not noticed in darkness and pushing her in. Alex stumbled in the dark room, trying to find a source of light as Regulus locked the door behind her.
"Thanks a bunch," Alex said sourly, feeling how her shoulder had bumped into something sharp.
"It's a broom cupboard," Regulus said. "Saw it during the rounds once. There." A pale glow came from the overhead light that Alex had not noticed before. It cast an odd shadow on Regulus' face, making him look suddenly a lot older and gaunt. Impulsively she reached out and touched his cheek, feeling the hollowness beneath his cheekbones.
"You've gotten thinner," she said worriedly. Regulus shrugged.
"Maybe I'm just growing," he said.
"I don't think so," Alex said. Regulus shrugged again.
"But where were we?" he said instead, stepping closer to her in the tight space. Alex tried to step back, but the back of her head met something dull and heavy.
"Ow," she said with a grimace. She sighed.
"Reg, we need to talk." Regulus smiled bemusedly.
"About what?"
"About us," Alex replied impatiently. The bemused smile slipped off Regulus' face by an inch.
"Oh," he said simply. Alex swallowed, trying to figure out what the best way to say this was. What exactly was it that she wanted to say anyway?
"I don't like how things are going," she said finally. Regulus shifted.
"Which part?"
"Which part?" Alex repeated incredulously. "Which part? How about everything?"
"Alex—"
"Hiding things, sneaking around, lying to everyone I care about—"
"I promised that it wouldn't be this way forever."
"Then when? When will it stop being this way?"
"I told you that these things take time!" Alex had not been expecting Regulus to raise his voice—in fact, she had never heard Regulus raise his voice. She flinched automatically, feeling as though she had done something wrong—as if it was wrong of her to bring up this topic in the first place. But she couldn't figure out why it was wrong.
"I said that I would need some time to take care of things," Regulus repeated, trying to school himself, but obviously failing. "I told you—I asked you to give me time, and you said yes."
"But it's not just about waiting," Alex said impatiently.
"What is it, then?" Regulus snapped.
"I don't know!" she yelled in frustration. "I just don't know. We spend a lot of time—kissing—I guess that's what people do, but that can't be the only thing that we can do, but that is the only thing we do, and—"
"Do you want more?" There was a strange undertone in Regulus' voice that Alex couldn't place. She tried to look at his face and understand what he meant, but the overhead light cast odd shadow at his eyes and made this impossible.
"Of course I want more," Alex said softly, looking away. Regulus took her hands in his and pressed them to his lips, an oddly antiquated gesture that she loved that Regulus could make.
"I wish you'd told me," he murmured, now letting go of her hands and drawing her closer to him again.
"I didn't think that it needed saying," Alex replied shyly. Regulus held her tighter.
"I mean, I expect that it wouldn't be the easiest for both of us, seeing as neither of us have much experience in this, but I think that we would at least be guaranteed some privacy in the Room of Requirements—"
"Wait, what are you talking about?" Alex said, frowning. Regulus looked down at her, apparently also confused.
"What do you mean?" he said.
"What does the Room of Requirements have anything to do with anything—"
"Because you were—" Something in her expression, it seemed, made Regulus realize that whatever he had in mind was not what she had in mind. "You weren't talking about—" he spluttered away, now trying to take a step back in the cramped space. Alex frowned.
"Talking about what?" she asked.
"Never mind," Regulus brushed the question off brusquely, setting off Alex's irritation again.
"What did you think I was talking about?" she repeated. Regulus shook his head viciously.
"What did you mean?" he asked. Alex felt like stomping her feet on the floor like a five-year-old.
"I don't know, that I wanted us to do things other than just being—physical? I get that you want to keep this thing a secret, but that doesn't mean that all we do has to be about kissing, I—seriously, what did you think I meant?" exasperation got better of her by the end of the sentence and it felt as though the baskets on the top of the shelves were rattled by the volume of her voice. Regulus, on the other hand, seemed half-dazed, half-irritated.
"It's nothing," he muttered.
"What?" Alex demanded. Regulus sighed.
"What?"
"I thought—the opposite. That you might want to be—even more physical…" he trailed off, looking carefully at Alex's face. Alex felt a blush creep up her cheeks despite herself and growled. "Obviously not," Regulus muttered.
"I don't think we're at the best place or time for that, don't you think?" Even though she didn't want to hurt Regulus' feelings, it was difficult to keep sarcasm out of her voice. Regulus, unfortunately, heard the biting tone as well.
"Why not?" he asked defensively. "It's not like we're too young, and we've been together long enough—"
"Three months," Alex muttered at the ground. Three months suddenly seemed like an awfully short amount of time to get to know someone.
"We've known each other for the past four and a half years," Regulus said exasperatedly. "Honestly, I don't think I'll even get to know my fiancée that well."
"Fiancée?" Alex repeated, dumbfounded. Regulus immediately bit his lip, making her feel even more suspicious.
"You didn't mention that you had a fiancée, Regulus," Alex said—the calmness of her voice surprised even herself. "You said that you convinced your parents to put off marrying anyone."
"I did," Regulus said defensively. "It's just—they still think I'll get married someday."
"And they got a fiancée just for that day," Alex said dully. "Brilliant."
"Oh yes, having your older brother's jilted intended has always been the Black tradition," Regulus quipped angrily. "Listen, Alex, you know that this doesn't mean anything."
"Sure," Alex said, the dullness of her voice refusing to go away. "I know that."
"Don't be like this," Regulus said impatiently. "You must understand—"
"That yeah, you have your things to sort out," Alex replied testily. "But—I also have things going on, Regulus, and sometimes I don't think they matter to you at all."
"Don't be silly," Regulus said tiredly.
"Don't call me silly," she snapped. "I—you were my best friend, you're still my best friend, and I've been trying to remember that these days, but I get a feeling that you're not looking for a friend, you just want to forget things with someone, and it might as well be the next girl to come along on your way instead of me and you wouldn't care one bit."
"Now you are being silly," Regulus said angrily. "I told you time and time again that you mean—"
"I don't see it! Do you? I don't see it at all," Alex shouted. The desperation that she'd tried to keep out of her voice kept climbing back up her throat, and she felt the dangers of imminent tears—but she didn't want to cry in front of Regulus—didn't want to show him that he made her feel vulnerable, especially when it didn't seem as though he was going to be there for her.
"I don't know what you want me to do," Regulus said. "I'm doing everything that I can." Alex couldn't tell if his words made her angry or resigned—why couldn't he? But she knew that he couldn't, so why should she blame him instead of herself?
"I don't know if that's enough," Alex said, too tired to carry on the argument. She reached for the doorknob and went into the corridor without another sentence, but a thought began to plague her and refused to let her go: that she knew that it wasn't enough.
It would be unfair to accuse Regulus Black of not trying enough—or that's what Regulus kept repeating to himself as he hiked the familiar path toward Hogsmeade the weekend before Easter.
Around him were Rosier and Lestrange, the two banes in his life, or so it felt at that particular moment. They weren't talking about anything important in particular—something about the superiority of bloodless vampire treats over the actually bloody ones—and Regulus knew that he was supposed to pay attention, act as though he were listening, part of the group—but the sight that he'd seen as he left the Great Hall that morning kept grating his mind too much for him to concentrate.
"Regulus," Lestrange's voice brought him temporarily back to the present moment. "Pick: an old, pudgy veela or a young and thirsty vampire?"
Regulus raised one eyebrow laconically. "Your imagination knows no bounds," he drawled.
"Too high and mighty to choose, eh?" Rosier said, clasping him on his shoulder. It took all of Regulus' willpower not to cringe away from Rosier's touch. "I, personally, would recommend the vampire. She might bite, but where's the fun without a bit of feisty?"
"Feistiness," Regulus corrected him under his breath, but thankfully no one noticed what he said.
"Is that what Goyle was? A bit of feisty?" Lestrange guffawed. Rosier shook his head in benign condescension.
"Just a bit of fun," he said as they made the left turn into the heart of the village. "She's gotten old, though."
"You mean that she lost interest," Lestrange said slyly, looking at Regulus. Regulus refused to dignify that look with a response. Rosier shrugged easily enough.
"We all knew that was going to happen the moment you dumped Wilson," he said wisely, tapping Regulus on the shoulder again, making him clench his fists. "Have I said my congratulations, by the way?"
"Yes," Regulus said curtly, remembering what he'd seen in the morning all over again. His Alex leaving the hall with Parkinson and Lee, of all people, laughing about something that he'd said, looking as though they've been friends since they were five. He was supposed to be there, making her laugh, being close to her, not Lee. But all he seemed to be able to do these days was to make her angry.
"There they are, your exes," Lestrange said, carelessly pointing his chin at a window of Three Broomstick's. Sure enough there was Parkinson, whom Regulus had to admit could do far better than Evan Rosier, sitting snugly next to Alex, who was squeezed between Parkinson and Lee in the tiny booth of the pub, looking merry despite his absence. A violent stab of nostalgia and wistfulness overcame Regulus and he was reminded of the years past when they were the ones making the beeline for Three Broomsticks whenever there was a Hogsmeade trip, laughing over some ridiculous incident that had occurred in the past week, drinking butterbeer. And he'd given that up so that Alex could find other people and he could stand in the street with Rosier and Lestrange, contemplating whether veelas were better than vampires. He was an idiot.
Behind the faded window Lee suddenly put his arm behind Alex's stool—Regulus couldn't even tell if the stool had a back to lay an arm on. Regulus told himself that the stool could've been wobbly and that Lee was simply trying to steady her (this thought wasn't much better than the alternative that Lee might've been hitting on her for all of Alex's obliviousness). As far as he could tell, Parkinson had begun to tell both of them something new from her Quidditch magazine, and Lee was looking over the page interestedly while Alex was mildly glancing over several different pages at the same time. Regulus kept waiting for Lee to take his bloody arm off Alex's chair, but that didn't happen. Regulus clenched his teeth, but didn't let on how he felt otherwise, deciding to keep trudging on the muddy road with Lestrange and Rosier toward Hog's Head.
Yes, they had a fight. And, after he had calmed down, Regulus had to admit—just as he always admitted, even though he hated to do it—that Alex had every right to be upset. He was keeping them a secret for his convenience. It would be far easier to convince his parents of other things that he had planned if they weren't holding his relationship with Alex over his head every single time. But he was also doing this for her—who knew what his dissatisfied mother would do to Alex if he insisted on seeing Alex despite her wishes. Or any of his nastier cousins, for that matter. So yes, he was being selfish, but—couldn't she embrace his selfishness, at least for a little longer? The memory of the minutes before the fight, when his arms were still around her, his nose buried in her hair, her neck, his lips eagerly seeking hers—even though he knew better, he let the memory linger in his mind for a little longer than he should've, trying to remind himself that there were still aspects in his life that he didn't absolutely despise—that there was warmth and kindness and light in his life.
Most of the times it felt as though his life was going to be the same as his parents'—loveless, bleak, bitter and obsessed over tiny details that shouldn't matter so that their lives will be validated for brief seconds. Alex dispelled those thoughts for intervals—whenever he was with her, Regulus could almost believe that his life could go the other direction, even without rebelling against everything that raised him as a child the way Sirius did, that he could find some happiness with her in his life. But to do that he had to hold on to her, he had to be selfish—but to what extent could he be selfish and still be there for her, he no longer knew…
"Regulus?" Rosier's hesitant voice brought him back to earth. "What do you think?"
Regulus suppressed the ironic smile that threatened to make its way from his head. Any Slytherin would be caught dead if they dared to address Regulus in any way but politely. Alex, of course, was always the exception… "About?" he said.
"We figured we could skip Hog's Head and head straight to Zonko's," Lestrange said. "It's pretty warm anyway, no point in wasting the weather in the dingy old place." Regulus shrugged in indifferent assent, and they soon reached the joke shop, where Rosier and Lestrange immediately set off toward the "Darkness" section. Regulus shook his head. There must be more creative ways to name powders that caused a blackout for ten seconds at most. He leaned over a row of tiny crates, trying to read the description that had faded with soot and usage.
"We need to talk," an unfamiliar voice suddenly said from behind him. Regulus' hand automatically grasped his wand.
"Easy," Lee said, but his low voice and his stance told Regulus another story. Regulus turned around, maintaining eye-contact with that infuriating foreigner.
"Do we now?" Regulus drawled indifferently.
"About Alex," Lee answered, looking as casual as if he were talking about the weather. Against his better judgement Regulus' face formed a sardonic frown.
"I don't think she's any of your business, Lee," Regulus said.
"Nor should she be yours, according to the rumor mill," Lee said, raising his eyebrow. "But we both know that that's not true, is it?" Regulus looked at Lee with some real emotion now. Not even Parkinson, it seemed, knew that he and Alex were still together—if she knew, Regulus supposed, she would've confronted him about it already and given him a lecture on why he doesn't deserve Alex, again. But—Lee knew. Which either meant that Lee kept a close enough eye on Alex to the point that he figured the truth out for himself—which wasn't very appealing to Regulus—or that Alex told him. Which was even less appealing. Alex—telling Lee about them. About what they shared. That seemed incomprehensible. What they shared—it was private.
Resisting the impulse to cross his arms, Regulus raised his eyebrow instead. "What do you want?" he drawled. Lee cocked his head toward the door.
"Outside," he said.
"Fine." Trying not to look sullen, Regulus straightened his back and walked out of the store with unusually stiff posture. Lee followed, looking far more at ease. This unnerved him.
"So what do you want?" Regulus repeated the question once they were out of the eyesight of curious passerby who were apparently interested to watch two tall teenage boys involved in serious discussion. Lee looked straight into Regulus' eyes.
"End it with her." Regulus raised his eyebrow, this time in real incredulity.
"I beg your pardon?" he said. Lee, the nerve of him, looked completely unabashed.
"I think you heard me perfectly clearly."
"I think you don't understand who you're talking to," Regulus drawled condescendingly—his best Black tone that Alex frowned at every time he used it. Lee, for one, didn't look fazed at all.
"You're the spoiled brat making Alex miserable," Lee said calmly. "That's who you are to me."
"And you're the one talking to me behind her back," Regulus' drawl grew even stronger as Lee's words became more and more infuriating to his ears. "Does she even know that you're here?"
"She doesn't need to know."
"And who do you think you are, taking that privilege?" For the first time, Lee hesitated, but it didn't seem to be out of uncertainty.
"You couldn't possibly understand," he said, an unfathomable smile playing across his lips.
"Can't I?" Regulus said, rising to the bait.
"No," Lee said. "You and your precious pureblood family go back centuries. That's as far as you can understand. This—this is beyond your comprehension."
To this point Regulus thought many things, but that Lee might be a little unhinged or stupid wasn't one of them. Now, however, the possibility seemed real. Talk about self-aggrandizement—as if two strangers could have any form of connection that went more than several months. In fact, for the first few months Lee gave Regulus a distinct impression that he was entirely unimpressed by Alex. And yet—something nagged in the back of his mind. Something about their—friendship. The way Lee always seemed to be there whenever Alex was in trouble—the forest, the Quidditch match, even now—as if he knew. How?
"If it's her that you want, then I'd try talking to her, not to me," Regulus said, trying to mask the panic in his voice. "I'm not changing my mind." And neither is she, he added silently. I don't think so. I hope so.
Something in Lee's derisive smile hardened. "Want?" he said. "I don't want her. I would never want her."
"Well, then," Regulus sneered. "What is the point of this conversation?"
"Either change the way you're treating her, or end it," Lee said. "She's too attached to you to do it. You, on the other hand, seem less attached."
Regulus smiled sardonically. "Have you told her that?" he said. "I can only imagine her reaction."
"No," Lee said, crossing his arms. "She told me."
This stung. Regulus knew that Alex felt insecure about how he felt about her, and Regulus, to his frustration, never seemed to be able to convince her enough of how much he felt about her, but—why didn't she talk to him? Why talk to Lee? This—this infuriatingly calm, this imperturbable, this tall, built, attractive (Regulus loathed to admit this, but even he had to admit that Lee could probably give Sirius a good run for his money, if he set his mind to it) Quidditch player—why did Alex feel comfortable talking to Lee, but not to him? Regulus remembered that Alex tried to talk to him just a few days ago, when they had that row in the broom cupboard, but even then he got a sense that Alex didn't feel comfortable talking to him. Why, why—
Something else caught his focus.
Lee shifted slightly, very slightly, in front of him, and Regulus sensed somehow that he was now not the center of his attention. His eyes automatically began to seek in the crowd what Lee might've sensed, scanning different shades of gray and purple robes.
Lee tensed, and Regulus tensed, too. His eyes narrowed, somehow reacting to the tenseness that Lee was feeling.
Then he saw the man. Regulus remembered where he saw him. The man who was looking straight at them.
But no, not at them. Too occupied with the crowd, Regulus had not noticed that Alex had made way to both of them next to Zonko's. Looking at where they were looking at, her eyes had widened in surprise—pleasant surprise.
"Dad?"
Regulus looked at Alex. Then at that man. Then at Alex. Back at that man. Something heavy dropped in his stomach.
If fates could send a message, the message was clear now: Regulus Black and Alexandra Wilson were destined for disaster.
A/N: So sorry for the long wait! The end of the year has been absolutely hectic... and thank you so much for all those who reviewed/followed! I haven't been able to get back to you, but please know that every word you write melts my heart :)
