The couch felt like a ship in a quiet ocean—the way it swayed back and forth peacefully—the sound of party attendees blending in with the music into a steady white noise. Every now then, Regulus caught some words Evan was saying, though he couldn't say he was very interested in the retelling of the match that had earned them the Quidditch Cup last year. He had heard the story many times before, and he knew every little twist and turn and incline in tone Evan used to describe the events.

He also didn't care much for Diane Grubbly clinging to his hand, but he was already so low on sleep he had decided dealing with her, and the emotional repercussions of rejecting her, wasn't even worth his energy. The girl kept entwining their fingers, then loosening them again, then tracing her fingertips over the palm of his hand, and Regulus found himself wincing slightly when he realized her touch felt like an annoying fly that kept landing on his skin.

The auburn-haired girl didn't seem to notice, because she never completely let go of him as she listened to Rosier's story. Regulus feared he would have to deal with her sooner or later, because he didn't know how much longer he wanted to entertain Diane's delusion of thinking the two of them were headed anywhere. He had been with girls in the past—he had had a few actual girlfriends even—and Diane was attractive enough, but he had no desire to bed her.

He had no desire to bed anyone truth be told, not after the wrecked night he had, tossing and turning with images of the Dark Mark floating in the sky, the faces of his expectant parents tormenting him even in his dreams. The only reason he was at the party in the first place was because he knew there would be alcohol, and if he could forget about all of the pressure that rested on his shoulders for a few hours, he would gladly take it.

"So, Lestrange's bludger had just landed a huge blow to Potter's elbow," Evan monologued animatedly, "which was a huge key in— Merlin's balls, is that Georgia Owens in costume?"

It was the first time Evan had actually paused after speaking, and a couple of people snickered and chuckled. Regulus, who had been staring into is glass—the dark brown liquid more interesting than any of his other surroundings—didn't bother looking up. The name of the girl was vaguely familiar to him, but not nearly enough for him to be interested in what she was wearing.

"No way, is that Lottie Vernier next to her? Her dress is stunning," Diane piped up next to him.

"Her dress? I'd say her legs are stealing the show," Dolohov, one of the other Slytherins who had gathered around the fireplace, commented.

Regulus eyes slowly traveled up, landing cleanly on a figure across the room, close to the entrance. He noticed her shoulders first—the way her tanned skin glowed in the purple and orange lights littered through the room, the lines of her collarbones drawing his eyes to her neck. Her light brown curls brushed against her skin whenever she moved, and Regulus felt a slight shiver go down his spine. He wondered what her skin would feel like under his fingertips.

"That dress is so short, you'd hardly have to move it to get access," Dolohov said, earning more chuckles from his bystanders. Regulus' eyes traveled down her chest, waist and hips, to her legs, where the hem of her dress sat about midway down her thighs. He swallowed hard, trying his very best not to let his thoughts get ahead of him.

"Access?" Evan snorted, "Mate, she wouldn't go near you in a million years. She's a Hufflepuff for starters, and everybody knows they don't do sex to begin with. Besides, isn't she muggle-born? You shouldn't want to go near that."

Regulus's chest flared at the way his friend had called Lottie 'that', but he didn't have time to react as he tore his gaze away from the girl—who had turned away from him and disappeared into the crowd.

"I don't mind, I'm not trying to marry her," Dolohov said with half a smirk, tugging lightly at his collar as if the room had gotten scorchingly hot all of a sudden.

"Just wondering if it's really that much worse than a pure-blood. It'll be fun to mess with her. Maybe I'll fuck her first, and then use a memory extraction spell to show the memory to anyone who wants to see," he grinned.

"Of course it is going to be bad," Diane shrugged, as if this was common knowledge. "It's got to be awfully boring. Muggles have no imagination, so how fun could it really be."

"Go on then, Dolohov," Barty said encouragingly, a lazy smile hanging on his lips. "Go on and shag her."

Dolohov had barely moved up from his seat, when Regulus shot up from the couch, ripping his hand from Diane's fingers. His sudden movement had startled the group of Slytherins, whose join pairs of eyes now shot between Regulus and Dolohov.

"You alright, Black?" Dolohov eyed Regulus carefully.

"Pick someone else."

His voice was low and steady, his gaze fixed upon Dolohov's near-black eyes.

"Why?" Dolohov asked stupidly.

"Because I say so."

Regulus rarely bothered using his status to his advantage—not when it came to his friends anyway—as he knew that there was no need to. His family name already earned him all their respect, freely given to him on a golden platter. It was rare for him to exude authority over his peers, but in this case he hadn't hesitated commanding his fellow classmate.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the group, until Dolohov spoke up again.

"What, do you want to fuck her?"

No. He wanted her to be able to enjoy a party without having to worry about slick assholes forcing themselves upon her. He wanted his friends to un-notice her. He wanted her to stay as far away as possible from his friends, who were so intent on making any muggle-born's (or even half-blood's) life miserable. He wanted these two parts of his life—his fellow future Death Eaters and his occasional potions partner and escape from his grim reality—to stay as separated as possible.

"Maybe I do."

A few people whistled, and some softly hooted in encouragement.

"What, did she slip you some of that Amortentia the two of you made in class?" Barty chuckled, clearly trying to defuse the tension a little bit.

"It is as Dolohov said," Regulus countered, "it'll be fun to mess with her, and as I have been her potions partner, she'll have more reason to trust me."

It was a long shot, but it was the best thing he could come up with.

"Alright, lover boy," Evan said as he patted Regulus firmly on the shoulder. "Show us what you've got."

Regulus felt like he had no choice but to walk up to her. After looking around and having spotted her on a couch some ways away, he had squared his shoulders and set out in her direction. He had no idea what he would tell her.

Should he pretend to just make conversation, then report back to his friends that she wasn't interested in him? No, that would only be more incentive for Dolohov to shoot his shot, probably wanting to try and out-do him.

Should he come clean and explain the real reason why he had walked up to her? That was a bad idea too—she would probably never want to speak to him again after such an improper encounter.

He had no time to come up with a third plan, because by now Lottie and her friends had noticed him approaching them, and a few seconds later he found himself in front of the three of them, his eyes fixed on Lottie.

"Good evening, ladies," Regulus said, hoping to buy some time by starting with small talk.

"Black," Georgia Owens—whose costume looked quite hideous—greeted him. Not the person he had been aiming for, Regulus waited a few seconds for Lottie to speak, but she didn't. Instead she just looked up at him with those big golden eyes, and he suddenly regretted coming over at all. He didn't want to be in this situation right now.

"Vernier, can I talk to you?"

The likeness of some kind of plan started to form in his mind, and he hoped she would just go along with it.

"Oh…um," Lottie started, quickly looking at her friends before her eyes darted back up to meet his again. "Of course. Is this about potions?"

'It is, actually," Regulus said, eagerly accepting the excuse she had just so gracefully offered him. "Though it is…sensitive. Top grade techniques."

He hoped he had made it clear enough that he wanted to talk in private, and by the look of it Lottie had caught on. She got up from the couch, mumbling an "I'll be right back," to her friends.

"You better tell us the secret after!" Owens called after them as Regulus turned and started towards the exit of the room. He didn't look back as he stepped outside, trusting that Lottie would follow him, and he carefully looked around the empty corridor. All teachers knew that students threw parties, especially around holidays, and it wouldn't be that strange to see a professor patrol this particular corridor around this time. He had come to learn, however, that Dumbledore turned a blind eye to most parties, as long as they stayed within bounds of reason.

As such, the corridor was peacefully quiet, and Regulus set out to find a quieter place to talk. Not just to avoid getting caught just in case there was a teacher on patrol, but also to come up with an explanation to Lottie. It was the next part of his plan, and he had no idea what he was going to say.

As he had expected, Lottie followed close behind him, her steps quicker than his in order to keep up with his strides. He contemplated walking slower, but he didn't want to risk having to look her in the eye sooner than necessary.

"What's going on?" Lottie asked, her words slurring a little. Regulus hadn't been the only one drinking tonight.

Having reached the end of the corridor, there was the option of turning into another hallway to the right, or go up a narrow spiral staircase to the eighth floor. Regulus figured the latter would provide more privacy, so he turned left, opening the wooden door and stepping inside the dark, small space. Lottie hesitated before following him inside.

Regulus was going to pull the door closed, but decided to leave it open, just so he would be able to hear any potential approaching people.

"Regulus Black," Lottie said with such weight that he was forced to finally look at her. The staircase was narrow, but a few small windows allowed for some moonlight to enter the dark space; the opalescent light dancing across Lottie's face. "Will you tell me why you took me all the way out here?"

He studied her features as he desperately dug through his drunken mind in order to find some acceptable excuse for his strange behavior.

"Is this about yesterday?" she asked, her eyes softening as recognition flashed in her eyes. He blinked down at her, not sure what she was referring to for a moment, when he remembered the interaction with Slughorn at the end of class. How he had frozen, unable to hide his dread. She had undoubtedly picked up on it.

"Yes," he said, once again so grateful that she provided him with all the right things to say. "I left without saying anything, or even thanking you for a peaceful cooperation."

He looked away and almost winced at his clinical tone, but the girl in front of him didn't seem to notice. He probably slurred his words just as much as her, and he hoped it had taken the edge off of his stiff words.

"Don't worry about it," she said, waving the matter away. "You clearly weren't feeling well."

So she had noticed. He made a mental note to hide his feelings better next time they threatened to get the better of him. It was one thing for Lottie to notice the imminent apprehension when he was faced with his future, but he couldn't afford his friends to catch him slipping like that.

"Do you…want to talk about it?" Lottie asked carefully. Regulus had been rather focused on a crack in the wall, but something in her voice compelled him to meet her eyes again. He really did not want to talk about it. He didn't even want to think about it, let alone expose himself to her—the mere concept of him joining the Death Eaters after graduating probably enough to get him instantly expelled and arrested. There was something else, too, another nagging feeling that came with telling her the truth, but he decided that it would be a distinctly bad idea to unpack that right now.

"Not really," he said softly, casting his gaze downwards, finding it hard to look her in the eye for an extended amount of time. "I just wanted to apologize."

This seemed to take the Hufflepuff by surprise, because she opened her mouth with a soft but audible inhale, only for her to fall silent again.

"Alright," she reluctantly said. She didn't sound entirely convinced.

"You…had to drag me all the way out here for that?"

Regulus bit the inside of his lip, his brow furrowing as he still avoided eye contact.

"It was loud in there," he said, his words coming out a little more defensively than he would have liked. Alcohol, as it turned out, didn't exactly help him control his emotions either. "Would you like us to go back to the party and have me apologize there as well, just so everyone can see?"

There was a heavy silence and Regulus instantly regretted his words. Her question had been reasonable—there wasn't really a reason why he had to apologize to her in a small staircase—but the memory of the day before had put him on edge. An edge he had been drinking away from all evening, only for it to catch up to him with ease.

"No, that's quite alright."

Lottie's voice had been uncharacteristically cold, and Regulus' eyes snapped up to look at her. He had never heard her use that tone of voice before and he almost had to make sure it was still her he was talking to.

Regulus had almost expected her expression to be as icy as her tone had been—like his mother's usually was, and undoubtedly his as well—but Lottie's face had twisted into a concerned frown. He waited for her to continue—to start arguing even—but in stead, the girl whirled around and pushed the door further open.

"Wait," Regulus muttered, her hand reaching out for her, but she was long out of his reach. He watched as she walked back to the Room of Requirement, never looking back at him, until she disappeared through the heavy wooden doors.

He had fucked up. He had managed to get this close to wrapping things up perfectly—he had even apologized—but his own temper had offended her, and he couldn't exactly blame her. She had shown genuine concern, and he had rewarded it with a snide remark.

At least he was able to report back to the group that was waiting for him, that he had slipped away with her and let the rest be up to their imagination, which would hopefully result in them moving on from the topic altogether.

Regulus took a deep breath, before he started his way back to the party.

Lottie wasn't sure if she even wanted to go back to the party, but she knew that if she didn't, her friends would grow worried. She couldn't believe just how rude Regulus had acted. Had he not been the one to ask her to talk? He had tried to apologize, which Lottie appreciated, but apparently his friendliness ended as soon as someone asked a question he didn't like.

She scoffed at the thought of his frown—almost a pout—when he spoke to her, his eyes hazy from drinking and his breath a little short. He had looked so…desperate, in a way. She didn't know what for, because the bastard had cut her short as soon as she had asked about it, but this had only made her more curious. Whatever it was that had befallen him the day before, still had its lingering effect today. So much so that he turned into a rude dickhead, apparently.

Lottie let herself fall on the couch next to Georgia, who happily patted her knee.

"There she is! What did Black want, huh? Did he have the answers to our upcoming exam, or something?"

Lottie had completely forgotten about Regulus' initial excuse—potions business—and it took her a few seconds to realize what Georgia was talking about.

"Oh. Um, no. No answers. Just questions," she replied vaguely.

"Why would he ask you questions about potions at a party," Georgia asked as she raised an eyebrow, but the question had apparently been rhetorical, because she went right back to her conversation with Winnie.

Lottie could feel a headache coming up again—which would be the second Regulus-induced headache this week—and she promptly got back to her feet.

"I'm going to bed," she announced. Winnie and Georgia looked up at her, both falling silent.

"You alright, Lottie?" Winnie asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

"Yeah, just tired. I think I drank too much."

She gave her friends a small smile and wave, before quickly leaving the room again. She knew that going back to the common room by herself was going to be risky, the chance of running into a teacher or Peeves greater now that she was the only one to scan her surroundings, but she really didn't care. All she wanted was to crawl under her plush sheets and try to forget about seeing Regulus at all.

Unfortunately, the silence and solitude of the empty dorm room only left more room for her thoughts to brew. She had changed into her pajamas and gotten into bed without so much as taking off her make-up, hoping to fall asleep as soon as possible. But all she saw was Regulus' eyes when he had stood in front of their couch, asking to talk to her. His slightly down-turned eyes laden with a heaviness she couldn't place. The desperation in his face—in his voice—when he spoke to her. The way his lips had twitched when she questioned him on why he had taken her aside. He had looked so different from how he did in class, or at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, or when him and his friends strode through the halls of the castle. He had looked vulnerable, as if he was about to break. And maybe he would have, if she hadn't pushed him too far.

The next time Lottie saw Regulus, was during potions on Monday morning. Despite not wanting to see or speak to him after having given it many thoughts over the weekend, she found herself glancing over to his desk every now and then. She don't know why she expected him to ignore her existence after Saturday's party—probably because the boy seemed to peak whenever he wore his imposing mask. What she did not expect, was to meet his gaze from across the room several times during the hour; his face not blank, not scowling, but sad. She wasn't sure if he just had an incredibly expressive way of displaying sadness on his face naturally, or whether he was trying to look sad so she felt bad for him. Either way, it was working, because by the end of class, she had forgotten all about her intentions of avoiding him, and she found herself packing her belongings at an excruciatingly slow pace. Most students had left the room by the time she finally got up from her desk, and as she had hoped—Regulus was one of them. He had been scribbling something in his notebook—probably some potions notes that he wanted to note down while they were fresh—and he only now started to gather his things.

Lottie swung the strap of her bag over her shoulder, her eyes carefully assessing the boy. She wanted to talk to him, to see if he had anything to say about their "argument" (if you could even call it that), but found herself hesitating. He hadn't exactly reacted well the last time she asked him a sensitive question. What would make this occasion any different?

She slowly started to walk towards the exit, deciding that she would see how the rest of the day played out before making any rash decisions, when a voice spoke up behind her.

"Vernier."

Regulus' voice was soft, but surprisingly casual sounding. "Can I have a moment?"

Lottie stopped in her tracks and turned around. The last of their classmates had left the room just before her, and Slughorn had already returned to his office, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

Regulus got up from his seat and turned to face her. The earlier sadness in his expression had completely vanished, and in stead she was greeted with a small, but polite—and most importantly: visible—smile.

"I want to apologize…again," he spoke up, adding the last word with a slight twitch of his eyebrow. "The night of the party…I was drunk, and I know that is no excuse for being rude, but it's the only explanation I have to offer."

It wasn't a very good one, but at least he was being honest about it.

"Yeah, you were pretty rude," Lottie agreed, but her face softened a little. "I'm not sure how your friends talk to you, but if someone comes to me with an issue, I'm going to care. And ask questions. And if that's uncomfortable, that's also fine, and you can simply say so. Politely."

Regulus' gaze dropped to the floor, and he was suddenly extremely reminiscent of a little schoolboy being scolded by his mother. It only lasted for a second, because just a moment after that, he looked up at her again with renewed confidence.

"You're right. And next time, if…if you'll allow a next time, I'll be better at communicating my boundaries."

Lottie hadn't expected him to word it like that, but if she was being honest, it sounded like he had given it genuine thought and learned from it. Of course, he was going to have to show it rather than just having the intention, but if there was one thing Lottie believed in, it was giving people second chances.

"Next time, then," she said, her lips spreading into a genuine smile. Somehow she felt like she was noticing a slow but sure shift in the boy. Every time she spoke to him, it felt as though a little bit of that mask chipped away a little, revealing small parts of himself that were usually kept from the outside world.

It was intriguing, as much as it was scary. She had the tendency to care, even if people didn't deserve it. She wouldn't say Regulus didn't deserve it, he had hardly screwed up that bad, but she did worry that the Slytherin boy—who seemed so wildly different from her—didn't care all that much about most people. And if there was one thing that hurt—badly—it was to care for someone who wouldn't even notice if it she fell off the face of the earth.

Regulus had finished packing his bag and turned to face her once more. He didn't speak, but simply gave her another polite smile and a short nod, before walking past her. Lottie's eyes followed him until he disappeared in the corner of her eye, a gentle wave of air washing over her when their shoulders almost brushed. He smelled of fresh linen and something that had to be his own natural scent.

Pleasant, she thought.

Aside from the annual fest that was held on the 31st October, Halloween came and went without much notice. The castle grounds steadily got colder as November slowly crept by, and by the time the first week of December had passed, the morning dew had turned to frost.

Even in the afternoon, it was cold enough that Regulus' breath showed in steady, slow clouds of steam as he worked on his Herbology assignment with Barty. He noted down a few observations he had made of the plant in front of him, his elegant handwriting a result of years of rigorous practice. After underlining a particularly important step inn his notes, he put his quill down and let his eyes travel up, across the table.

He first noticed the tip of her nose: red from the cold and covered in freckles. Her eyes were next, the honey-colored irises twinkling with joy as she laughed. He noticed her smile then, wide and honest as her head tilted back a little inn her glee.

The corner of his mouth twitched up when Lottie's eyes met his. The girl already had been smiling, but a different kind of smile now settled on her lips as she prolonged their eye contact. Regulus' gaze flicked down to his notes again, taking a moment to stop his smile from spreading, before picking up his quill again and continuing his notes.

After he had properly apologized to Lottie after the party, things had settled into a friendly calmness between the two. He had been far too troubled by the issue of his initiation as a Death Eater coming up, to risk another outburst if he talked to Lottie. He had therefor decided to keep his distance for a little bit. Just enough to avoid more emotional conversations, yet close enough to keep working on potions together in Slughorn's class. And, as it turns out, to shoot each other glances every now and then.

It had started in the week after Halloween. Charms class had been interesting enough, but seeing the look on Lottie's face when she had produced a perfect Aguamenti Charm was what had truly captured his attention. The girl had been so warm, the way her eyes squinted together when she laughed, how she was always willing to help another classmate who was still struggling with their spells, and how she had given that smile to him—just him—when nobody else was looking.

When he had smiled back at her, she had seemed surprised. That had been the only time, however, because on every other occasion they had caught each other's attention (and there had been a lot), it was as if she was waiting to see him smile again.

The only occasions on which they talked, was when they paired up for assignments, and they only paired up in potions class, which seemed to be a kind of unspoken agreement between them. Regulus didn't mind: in fact he liked the familiarity of their routine. Quiet whispers over steaming cauldrons as they discussed the next steps in the recipe, and the reliability of each other's abilities in the subject. It was so unfamiliar yet comfortable, and he found himself hoping he could get used to it.

"Hm…sopophorous beans next," Lottie hummed softly, peering down at her textbook. Regulus was stirring the lemon yellow mixture in their shared cauldron, silently counting each turn he made with the ladle.

"You know, I think you've got a talent for this," Lottie said, tapping her chin with a finger. Regulus looked up at her, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"Potions?"

"Stirring."

Regulus made a sound that was half snort, half scuff as he turned his attention to the potion again, stilling his hand.

"You've come a long way since almost messing up our Amortentia draft," Lottie smirked, prodding at his arm with the back of her pencil. The small, physical touches were fairly new. Two weeks earlier, when they had worked together to make a complex Cleaning Potion, she had nudged his arm with hers after completing their assignment successfully yet again. It seemed she was getting more comfortable around him—comfortable enough for these tiny, very rare moments where they touched, and he had to admit to himself that he liked it.

"The Amortentia slip up was not my fault," Regulus said airily, looking down his nose at the potion which was now turning a warm, glowing yellow.

"Oh? And I suppose it way my fault then?" Lottie asked, her words accusatory but her voice playful.

"Indeed," Regulus simply stated.

Lottie gasped softly and Regulus looked up at her; her expression a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Oh really? And how exactly was it my fault if you were the one who was stirring the wrong way?"

"You were distracting me."

Lottie let out an exaggerated snort.

"I was not. I was peacefully minding my own business, the only reason I noticed was because the potion started to stink. I wasn't even talking to you."

"Indeed you weren't."

For a few seconds, both Regulus and Lottie were silent, until Regulus turned to his textbook nonchalantly.

"Only wormwood left. Shall I add it, or do you want to?"

"I'll do it," Lottie said, effectively having been distracted by Regulus' change in subject. She carefully measured off the two teaspoons of ground wormwood, as the recipe required, before adding the powder to the cauldron. Regulus took the ladle again, and started stirring anti-clockwise.

"What was so distracting about me then?"

How ironic would it have been if he had let himself answer right away and getting distracted again while stirring the potion. Instead he waited until he completed the six slow circles, before removing the ladle from the cauldron altogether.

Regulus didn't look up at Lottie, but rather at her side of the desk, on which her books, her quill and ink, and coincidentally, her hands were resting. He could feel his heartbeat steadily increasing as he considered what he was about to do. He could feel Lottie's eyes on him, probably scanning his features for any kind of hint as to what was going on inside his head, but he still didn't meet her gaze. Instead, he lifted his hand and slowly moved it over to where Lottie's left hand was resting.

She followed the movement, and Regulus could have sworn that her breath stilled as he placed his hand next to hers, extending his fingers just far enough to brush his middle fingertip over the back of her hand. The feeling was so feather light, and so brief, because after not even a second, Regulus pulled his hand back and took a hold of an empty flask that had been sitting next to the cauldron.

"Did you bring an empty bottle or do you want to borrow one of mine?"

He tried not to smile as it took the girl several several seconds to answer.

"I brought my own," she said, her voice audibly different than it had been moments before. Less stable. Laced with something he couldn't quite place.

But whatever it was, he wanted to hear it more often.