Summary: Regulus learns a little bit about Muggle culture.

Author's Note: Sorry this is a day late! I've been so busy with school! But, I hope you like this chapter. I had some difficulty writing it, but I hope it turned out ok! Thank you all so so much for your reviews. I love each and every one! If you want more content, follow my tumblr manage-mischief. Enjoy! P.S. JK Rowling is trash :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 12: If You Like Pina Coladas

February 7th, 1979

Saturday morning arrived, and Regulus's nervous system was electrified. He woke up early in order to prepare himself—physically and mentally, for his trip with Des. As Regulus coated his hands with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and ran his fingers through his black hair, he felt like a fool. This trip to Hogsmeade was not a date, it was a mission. Regulus couldn't afford to reflect on his potential interest in Des until after he discovered Voldemort's secret plans. He refused to think about the way her thick walnut curls brushed his cheek whenever she whispered to him, or about the way her big grey-blue eyes sparkled with delight whenever she learned something new, or about the way her Muggle jeans accentuated her waist and hugged her…Merlin. He'd let himself get distracted again.

Regulus took one last look at himself in the mirror. Though he had tried to achieve his brother's signature "effortlessly cool" look, he didn't pull it off quite as well as Sirius had. Still, satisfied that he looked decent enough, he marched out of the Slytherin Dorms towards the dining hall.

Des was already waiting for him when he arrived. The first thing Regulus noticed was that—for one of the only times since he had known her—the witch looked nervous. She kept fidgeting and fussing with her clothing, pulling on her top every few seconds. She changed position ever few seconds, first leaning against the wall, then standing upright, then shifting her weight to one leg with her hip stuck out.

The second thing Regulus noticed was that Des looked fantastic. She wore high waisted jeans and a tucked-in, tight blue sweater. Her signature clear plastic glasses magnified her eyes and thick eyelashes. Her hair was pulled back in a bun by a red, polka dot bandana like that Muggle poster girl—what was her name…Rosie the Ribbiter? No that wasn't it…Well, whatever it was, Regulus liked it that way. Des's eyes darted around the corridor before landing on Regulus. she jumped a little when she saw him. Immediately, she broke into a wide grin, burying any previous nerves Regulus had observed. "Ah, the hermit has left the library!"

Regulus shook his head, smiling. "I thought Miss Ravenclaw of all people would approve of my new studying habits."

Des laughed. "Come on, nerd, let's grab some food and go!" Des led him to a table, where Woodrow and Wilhelmina were already sitting, whispering back and forth to each other:

"…bet you five galleons," Regulus heard Wilhelmina say in a hushed tone. When Des and Regulus arrived to join them, the pair abruptly stopped their conversation. Wilhelmina smiled slyly. "Hello you two. Lovely day for a Hogsmeade trip, isn't it?" The table jerked violently, and Wilhelmina winced.

"Whoopsie," Des said unapologetically, reaching for the pumpkin juice. "Terribly sorry, I must have kicked you under the table by mistake."

Wilhelmina was not deterred. "Don't worry about it, Dezzie, I'm sure it was an accident" said Wilhelmina, before turning her attention to Regulus. "Well now, doesn't someone look nice today?" Regulus flushed, and Wilhelmina quickly tucked her legs up onto the bench, avoiding another well-aimed kick from Des.

"Are you two coming out to the town today, too?" Regulus changed the subject.

"After what happened the last time we went to Hogsmeade? No way, mate," McDrew said.

"Aw, poor Woody's scared," Wilhelmina teased. "I'd go, but I've got detention. I may or may not have set off a dung bomb in the library to get back at my ex and his new girlfriend."

"Nice," Des remarked, her mouth full of toast.

"I'm sure you'll run into some of the others, though. But remember not to bother Marlene and Dorcas if you see them in Madame Puddifoot's…or be prepared to deal with the consequences." McDrew, Des, and Wilhelmina all shuddered at her words. "You two crazy kids had better get going. A line's starting to form. Have fun," she chirped.

Des rolled her eyes and stood. "And you have fun in detention, Willy. C'mon Reg." Regulus obeyed and followed Des out of the Great Hall. As he left, he heard Wilhelmina begin to laugh.

"I still don't see it, Wil. I don't think it's a date. I mean, Des and Reg hated each other up until a few months ago," Regulus heard McDrew's not-so-subtle whisper to his friend.

"You're so thick, Woodrow. They're obviously into each other! Marlene agrees with me. Ah I can't wait to hear what happens! Rivals to friends to lovers! Just like all of the best books! How romantic!"

Regulus resisted the urge to go back and kick Wilhelmina in the shin himself. If she only knew the true purpose of their trip to Hogsmeade. He couldn't think of anything less romantic or "cute" than Lord Voldemort's plans for world domination.

Des and Regulus signed out of the castle with the care taker, and set off upon the familiar path to Hogsmeade. A light blanket of pearly-white snow covered the bare tree branches. The morning was grey and overcast, but enjoyably so. The sun could be seen trying to break through the cloud-covered sky. The cold was refreshing, but not biting. Des's cheeks and nose were rosy from the crisp air.

Des and Regulus kept a few inches distance between each other. Neither one spoke. Regulus thought that this must be the first time in her life that Des was at a loss for words. "So…" Regulus tried to begin a sentence. The words died in his throat. He really didn't know how to engage in small talk. He'd never really had to worry about speaking when he was with Ginger, and, recently, so much of his life had been devoted to his multiple existential and moral crises, that he seemed to have forgotten how to have a conversation that didn't involve his family, Death Eaters, or Voldemort. Regulus pleaded with himself to say something, anything. But, his brain obstinately refused to comply.

Des regarded him curiously. "So…I know a place where you can tell me about…your little problem…without any chance of being overheard. I don't think we should discuss it out in the open like this."

Of course. Des was focused on their mission—to discuss Regulus's Voldemort problem. He should be focused on that, too. "You're absolutely right," Regulus said, nodding vigorously.

"You know," said Des after another awkward beat of silence, "just because we can't talk about whatever it is you want to tell me out in the open, doesn't mean we can't talk at all." She looked up at the trees, in the opposite direction of Regulus. She bit her bottom lip.

Regulus's cheeks tinged pink. "I-I know. Um. What would you like to talk about?"

Des considered his question. "What's your favorite color?"

"What? Why?"

"Why? Because I'm trying to get to know you better, Regulus! Now, what's your favorite color?"

Regulus thought about it for a moment. "Green."

"Aw, what a good Slytherin," Des teased him.

"No," he said, "not Slytherin green. Green like the ocean. When I was younger, Mum and Dad would always take us somewhere warm for the winter. We sat on the beach, and Sirius and I would make sandcastles. It was nice."

"That sounds nice, spending time with your family…doing normal 'family' things. Before they messed with your mind and you joined an evil cult," she mused.

"That about sums it up," he agreed, trying to hold onto the memory of the warmth and the sun and the sand. Oh, how things had changed. "How about you?"

"Purple. Royal purple, like kings and queens wear," she stated immediately. Regulus raised a questioning eyebrow, silently asking her to explain. "I've always liked it. Though, I guess it's also kind of related to a memory. But, just a flash of one—from when I lived in New Orleans with my parents. Right before Dad died, when I was almost four, he brought me to the Mardi Gras parade. I can't recall the details, but I remember flashes of color: green and purple and gold. And when I close my eyes, I can see his smiling face as he held me and put a purple strand of beads around my neck because he knew it was my favorite." Des sighed. "Merlin, aren't we a dramatic pair? We start off at our favorite colors, and end up at the sob stories of our broken families." She laughed uncomfortably and began playing with the cuffs of her sleeves.

Regulus considered the comment she had made in passing. He thought about his life the past few months. The conversations he'd had, the danger he'd put himself in. Then, he began to laugh. Almost hysterically. He had to stop walking as he doubled over, hands on his knees. She looked a bit concerned. "Regulus? You alright?"

Between gasping breaths, Regulus managed to say, "You-you're absolutely right! I am so. Fucking. Dramatic!" He lost the ability to speak once again. This time, Des joined in. Together, they stood there, smack in the middle of the trail, laughing. Onlookers passed by and shot them odd looks. But Regulus didn't care. He felt invigorated—lighter-than-air—like he was forcing out the worries, the darkness that had consumed him for the past years. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this hard for no reason. He felt free. His lungs burned, his stomach muscles ached, yet, he felt alive.

"Do you…do you maybe want to grab a butterbeer like normal people before we go off to your secret dramatic place to talk about my secret, dramatic news?" Regulus asked, before he could think better of it, still high off of his semi-hysterical breakdown.

Des grinned. "I reckon that'd be a nice change of pace."

"You're mental! There is no way that Potions is better than Transfiguration!"

"You asked my opinion," Regulus insisted, spreading his hands out in front of himself defensively. He chuckled at Des's indignation. "You asked what I preferred! I'm just telling you!"

Regulus and Des were seated at a cozy corner table in The Three Broomsticks, sipping their butterbeer and asking each other trivial questions. Regulus almost felt normal.

Des rolled her eyes. "Merlin, I know, but I thought you'd have the right opinion. I don't know if we can even be friends anymore, Reg," she said seriously. Regulus stared back, playing along with her faux aggravation.

"Fine," he said, matter-of-factly. "We're not friends anymore. Then I guess I'll just go off and find some other boisterous Ravenclaw to tell all my secrets to. One who appreciates the subtle art of potion making." Regulus pretended to get up to leave.

Des tilted her head to the side. "Aw, Reg, it's sweet you think you'd ever find anyone as 'boisterous'—as you so delicately put it— as me." Her façade broke, and she began laughing. Regulus joined in.

"You're absolutely right," he joked. "You're one of a kind." An awkward silence fell over the table. Regulus averted his eyes. "Ok, my turn. Hm… let me think of a good one…Alright, alright. I've got it. Favorite vacation?" He asked.

"Oooooh that's a tough one, Black. I'll have to think on it. You go first."

"Greece," Regulus replied immediately. "I went to see the Quidditch World Cup there when I was ten. England lost, but it was a great game."

"Merlin, you went to Greece and all you can talk about is a Quidditch match? Not the ruins or the history?" Des chided.

"Listen, I'm from an ancient line of pureblood wizards. I can look at fancy old stuff whenever I want. But Quidditch," he sighed dreamily. They both laughed.

"Alright, fair point," Des conceded. "Quidditch. What a good little pureblood wizarding boy," she teased.

"Hey, you say that like it's a bad thing. I'll have you know I'm one of the most eligible bachelors in pureblood society. As we speak, families are throwing themselves at my parents in the hopes of getting their daughters a piece of all this," he gestured to himself seductively. Des cracked up. Regulus had never felt so at ease bantering with anyone before.

"Oh my, I must have forgotten! I'm in the presence of wizarding royalty! Lord Black! Please accept my deepest admirations! I kneel down at your feet! I exalt you! I envy the woman who traps your arse!"

"Your turn, Lewis," Regulus demanded, after their laughter died down. Regulus's cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

"My turn, right. Okay. The best vacation I've ever been on would probably have to be…oh I got it! Our family trip to Cozumel. Uncle Thad was doing some research in Mexico, but Aunt Eliza wanted some time off, so while he worked, she and I went to a resort. I know you can't really get to know a place just by being in a resort, but I just felt so relaxed. I'd never really bonded in that way with my aunt before—if you couldn't tell, she's usually a bit uptight."

"No, your aunt? Uptight? Preposterous!" Regulus interjected sarcastically.

"I know, what a shocker. But, really, on this trip, we had so much fun together. We sat poolside drinking Piña Coladas and singing that Piña Colada song loudly whenever it came on the radio. It was brilliant."

"Pee-nya Cold-latas?" Regulus questioned, now seriously. "Song?" Des's eye widened with glee.

"Merlin's balls, I forgot all you purebloods aren't exposed to Muggle culture. Well, let me tell you: Piña Coladas—" Des sounded it out for Regulus "—are by far the best beverage money can buy. They're made of rum and pineapple and coconut and it's a rule that you must have one when you are on vacation at the beach," Des spoke a mile a minute, rambling about her love of the strange-sounding Muggle beverage. Regulus laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Well, if I ever get to the beach again, I'll have to try one. And there's a song about them?" Regulus asked, highly amused. Muggles were quite strange.

"Yes! The Piña Colada Song is a musical masterpiece of the modern era," she waved her hands dramatically. "Oh, my goodness!" She clapped her hands together loudly. "I'm so excited! I get to be the one who introduces you to the Piña Colada Song! Ugh, maybe Aunt Eliza will send me her record and I can borrow Flitwick's turntable…I'll tell him it's an emergency…why are you looking at me like that? Have I got a butterbeer moustache or something? Because if I did, it would be extremely un-gentleman-like not to tell me!"

Regulus was staring at her, his mouth stretched in an uncontrollable grin. "No, no! Nothing like that. I was just thinking about how…fascinating you are, Des. You really are one of a kind."

Des looked taken aback. She averted her eyes shyly. "Well," she said, regaining her usual air of confidence "it's just… I really like the Piña Colada Song." A breathy laugh escaped her. Cautiously, Regulus placed a hand outstretched on the table. He tried to act casual about it. Did Regulus really have to talk to her about the Dark Lord? Did he really have to think about the impending doom that awaited everyone he loved if he didn't figure out Voldemort's plan? Couldn't he just leave it to someone else and enjoy his afternoon in peace, like a normal teenage wizard?

Des's hand twitched, moving slightly towards his own. Before she took it, however, she looked up at the clock beside them. She sighed. "I reckon we'd better go," she said, draining the last sip of butterbeer from her mug. He frowned, but nodded. She was right.

"Come on then, Reg, time for us to have a chat."