Touch starved. Lottie was touch starved.
That was the only explanation as to why her stomach was flipping and her ears were ringing and her heart was beating in her throat. Sure, she hugged her friends on a daily basis. She brushed hands with her friends on occasion as well—when passing something from one person to the other, or to give them an encouraging squeeze before going into an exam.
But Regulus' touch had been different. Gentle. Maybe even yearning.
He had acted so casually, so normal right after that, as if the back of her hand wasn't still burning where his skin had brushed against hers. She had gotten used to their stolen glances and occasional conversations—which were distinctly only class related—and hadn't expected anything else to grow out of it.
She didn't want anything else to grow out of it. She liked how things were: distant and safe. It was good enough to have spare moments scattered throughout her week in which they interacted in class, so why did the slightest touch of his hand suddenly made her want to take his hand and lace her fingers through his?
She was sure he wasn't interested in developing any kind of closer relationship with her either. For almost a month and a half, he had been content watching her from afar, shooting her a smile every now and then. He had made no attempt to talk or spend time with her outside of potions class, which was fine, as she hadn't either, but that only made it all the more curious as to why he was suddenly touching her hand as if it was something to be cherished and handled with care.
She couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched her like that, which made her wonder whether anyone even had touched her like that before.
Lottie watched Regulus fill both their flasks before marking them with their names. He got up from his seat and made his way over to Slughorn's desk, where he placed the two potions before returning to their desk.
She followed his actions carefully, her eyes nonchalantly moving across the room every now and then to make sure she wasn't just staring at him, in case someone noticed. She needed to get over this quickly. The longer she thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded. She was losing her mind over something a simple as touching hands.
"Got plans for Christmas break?"
Regulus leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest, his green and silver tie moving up his chest a little in line with his arms.
Thankful for the distraction, Lottie pushed her thoughts away as she placed her hand in her lap and rubbed the back of it absentmindedly with her other palm.
"Just visiting family. We have a big Christmas dinner every year with my cousins, uncles and aunts. It should be fun," Lottie smiled, reminded of the cozy holiday she looked forward to every year. If there was one thing she had always loved about her family, it was the sheer size of it. She had over twenty cousins—courtesy to her mother's five brothers and sisters, whom had all had plenty of children themselves. Everyone but her own parents, who only had one. When she was younger, she had often wished she had siblings, but as she got older she learned to appreciate being an only child as well. She did know, however, that she wanted a big family of her own as well. Three kids, maybe four. Maybe even five, if she hadn't grown tired of it yet.
"That sounds nice," Regulus said, picking at a folded corner piece of a page in his notebook. "We usually have family dinners too, although they are exhaustingly tedious. So many of words, with so little meaning."
Lottie frowned a little bit. She had no idea what he meant by that, but she knew better than to ask. Despite their…whatever it was that was going on between them, she hadn't asked him any questions about his private life since the night of the Halloween party. It wasn't that she was worried for him to lose his temper again, but she had the feeling that there was a lot to unpack when it came to Regulus' home life, and she didn't want to push him on the matter. If he wanted someone to talk to, and that person happened to be her, he would come to her. She trusted in that much.
"Is your family hosting a dinner this year as well, then?" Lottie asked, deciding to keep the question neutral.
"Yes," Regulus answered simply, before adding: "and we'll be attending other dinners as well. It's supposed to be a holiday, but I'm afraid I'll be just as busy as I am here."
Lottie gave him a sympathetic smile.
"You'll be okay. Maybe ask your parents to sit one or two dinners out, if it gets too much. You need to be careful about falling behind on homework as well—McGonagall is absolutely going to give us some horribly long essay to write, and we're supposed to research Polyjuice Potion so we can get started on that after the break."
A small smile flashed over Regulus' face, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Yeah… I'll manage. Don't you worry about that."
Slughorn announced the end of class soon after that, and Lottie stood up to get ready to leave. It was Monday morning—the last Monday before Christmas break—and she couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit sad that she was going to be away from Hogwarts for two weeks. She absolutely wanted to see her family again, and she knew for certain that as soon as she got home she would be ecstatic to be there again, but she had gotten so used to the little doses of serotonin that her brain released whenever her and Regulus made eye contact, that she didn't want it to end.
Knowing that she still had the whole week ahead of her, though, she went about her day: attending classes and chatting to Georgia and Winnie as she took her notes and tried to forget about how Regulus had made her skin tingle with one single touch.
"So," Georgia said during dinner, peering at Lottie over her goblet of pumpkin juice. "When are you going to fill us in on what's going on between you and Black, hm?"
Lottie choked on her mashed potatoes, coughing until tears sprung to her eyes and Winnie offered her a goblet of water to drink from. She gulped down the water and wished the cup had been fuller, because the longer she was drinking the longer it would take until she had to give Georgia an answer.
"What do you mean?" Lottie breathed, her voice a little weak from her coughing fit.
"Don't play coy," Georgia insisted. "We have both seen the way you look at each other. You've been acting all flirty ever since Halloween. Did something happen between you two when you left the party?"
"Will you keep your voice down," Lottie hissed as her eyebrows shot up and she quickly looked around whether any other Hufflepuffs had heard their conversation. When she was sure that everybody was either focused on their own food or conversations, she turned back to Georgia, well aware of the warmth that had crept up to her cheeks.
"Nothing happened," she whispered. "We just…talked. About potions, like I said."
"What about the staring," Winnie asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.
Now they were teaming up against her.
"I don't stare at him." A lie.
"Oh but he does stare at you," Georgia said suggestively. "And I could have sworn I saw the two of you holding hands during potions this morning."
"You're out of your mind," Lottie said, her eyes widening. "We weren't holding hands—he took a piece of paper I was holding. I had written our labels for the potion flasks, he just took them to stick them onto the bottles."
Lottie was surprised at her wit, even though she hated how easily she had lied to her friends. Truth be told, she didn't know how to explain what had been going on with her and Regulus. There wasn't exactly a way to describe it, other than vague…distant friends. Who sometimes looked and smiled at each other. And touched each other softly.
Georgia and Winnie would probably misunderstand the situation if she explained it like that, though, as they apparently already seemed convinced something was going on between them. So it was just easier and less complicated to deny everything altogether.
"Hm…" Georgia still didn't seem convinced, but apparently she had ran out of points to interrogate her about, because she didn't say anything else.
"You would tell us if anything was gong on between you, right?" Winnie asked.
"I suppose. But there isn't," Lottie insisted, although it had sounded a little forced and she dreaded that it might have discredited her again. Her friends, however, didn't press the matter any more.
It was clear that she had to watch herself and not get carried away in class. Maybe their private looks hadn't been so private after all. It was a little naive to assume that nobody would notice it at any point, but it wasn't until it had caught up to her that Lottie made the realization.
She was going to have to find a solution for this.
"Oh go on, Reg, you said you would tell us by Christmas!"
The Slytherin common room was quiet at this hour—only a handful of students were still up studying or otherwise engaged. One of them being Regulus, who was hunched over a thick, dusty book about magic in the 1600's. He had planned on finishing the essay for History of Magic sooner, but the material professor Binns had suggested was so incredibly dense that it had taken longer to get though than Regulus had anticipated.
"Barty, I need to finish this essay by tomorrow," Regulus sighed, hardly in the mood to entertain what his friend was asking from him.
"The sooner you show us, the sooner you can go back to your little essay," Evan insisted, who was sitting next to Barty.
"I'm not going to show you," Regulus said, casting his eyes up to the ceiling briefly, unable to hide his annoyance.
"Then at least tell us how she was," Barty pressed on, but the smirk on his face faltered when Regulus slammed his quill down on the table hard enough to leave a thick, black ink splotch on the parchment.
"Do you two have nothing better to do than to obsess over my sex life?"
Regulus had hoped that the others had forgotten about his promise by now, but apparently they had an amazing memory for things they actually cared about.
On the night of the Halloween party, Regulus had been practically interrogated by the group of Slytherins after he had returned to the Room of Requirement. Their argument still fresh in his mind, he had had no desire to entertain his friends' curiosity, and he had simply waved their questions away with a simple: "I'll tell you all about it as a Christmas present."
For about a week after that, Barty, Evan, Dolohov and a few of the others had brought it up every now and then, going as far as to demand that he showed them what had transpired that evening by performing the Memory Extraction Spell, like Dolohov had suggested. But eventually, the topic had faded to the back of their minds, and Regulus considered himself successful in wrapping up the whole situation in a neat little bow.
Unfortunately, this was not the case.
"It was you who promised to tell us, we're just reminding you," Barty said with a shrug.
"And now I'm saying I am no longer interested in telling you."
Regulus rarely lost his temper, and he wasn't quite there yet, but he had half a mind to put a lip-glue-hex on both Barty and Evan, just so he could get some peace and mind to finish the essay that was mocking him from the table.
"How dull," Barty complained, but apparently he had given up, because he went back to reading the book in front of him. Evan dropped the matter as well, and the three were silent as they worked and read.
Regulus cleared up the ink spill from the parchment, and after assessing that the parchment still looked good enough to be able to hand in, continued scribbling down boring facts about old wizards he didn't care about.
He felt guilty—incredibly guilty—for making his friends believe he had slept with Lottie. In the heat of the moment, when his mind had been swimming in alcohol and the almost disappointing look Lottie had given him, it had made sense to just pretend they had hooked up in a broom closet somewhere, and therefor putting the matter to rest. If he alluded that they hadn't slept together, he was sure that Dolohov wouldn't hesitate to shoot his shot.
But in hindsight, he cursed himself for having drunk that much that night. If he had been able to think just a little bit more clearly, he could have given up with literally any other explanation as to what had happened, or in any other way dissuade Dolohov and the others to have any interest in the Hufflepuff girl.
The only good thing about this situation was that they would never talk to Lottie or her friends in any normal setting, so the chance that word about their supposed ten minutes of intimacy would get out and reach her were extremely slim. Still, a tiny part of him knew that the truth will always come out eventually. He just had to find the right time to tell her, and to come up with a way to explain that this really was the best possible outcome this whole situation could have gotten.
Regulus hoped that he would get the chance to speak to her in private before Christmas break, and found himself wandering the Hufflepuff wing of the dungeons more and more often on his prefect patrols. It was the best chance at running into her without having to approach her during the day, which was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do. The more they were seen together, the more his friends would press on, he was sure.
He couldn't even risk sending her notes during class, or looking at her the way that had gotten so comfortable and normal for them. He loathed having to hide his interest for her, but the alternative would be much, much worse.
He had very carefully and very intentionally ignored his thoughts every time the fact that Lottie was muggle-born had come up. He was aware that he was being a coward by dismissing the discrepancy between his budding friendship with her, and literally every other aspect of his life. It was easier to pretend that she wasn't muggle-born; to conveniently "forget" about it whenever they interacted. He wasn't sure if he would be able to look her in the eye if he didn't push that particular piece of knowledge from his mind.
The way he was raised, how his family and his own friends spoke about muggle-borns, how he had spoken about and treated muggle-borns. It had been the most normal thing in the world. They were beneath pure-bloods like him, it was a simple fact. At least, that's what he heard his mother say countless times.
He had never had muggle-born friends. Only more of his own kind: rich, important, pure-blooded. In a way, the way he and everyone around him spoke about muggle-borns had become so normal to him, he never thought about the possibility of getting to know them. He was so far removed from their reality, they had become a concept to him. A group of people that didn't effect his life even in the slightest, except that they watered down the precious, pure-blood heritage each time they crossbred with them.
But now, he didn't know what to think. He didn't know how to feel. He wanted to ignore the fact that each day, he felt a little heavier with doubt—wondering just how much unfounded hate his parents had fed him throughout his life. He had always taken their word at face value—as any good son would. His brother was the unruly, rebelling, obstinate one. Not him. He was dutiful, noble and loyal. He was proud to be a wizard, as his parents had always encouraged him to be, but was he proud to be pure-blood? Was he proud to be a Black?
He had never questioned any of this before, but he couldn't hide from it any longer. The more time he spent with Lottie, however short and modest those moments were, the more he started to realize that she was confronting him with his own shortcomings. His family's influence. Their hate-mongering. The fact that he was supposed to look down on her, simply for existing.
And he hated it.
Despite his efforts to find her after hours, it seemed like Lottie wasn't taking any more trips to the kitchens (or anywhere else in the castle) at night. By Friday, Regulus was getting worried he might not be able to talk to her in private at all before they would leave for the break the next morning.
He contemplated talking to her during potions, but of course Slughorn had chosen today of all days to give a lengthy lecture introducing Polyjuice Potion and its origins, and there was as least incentive to talk to Lottie as there was during any other class.
Maybe he would write her a note after all, but he quickly decided that enchanting a piece of paper and delivering it to her by making it fly to her location, was too risky. He had witnessed many occasions on which notes were flying about the castle, only for them to be intercepted by curious students before they could reach their destination. The best chance he had, was to write her an owl and hope she would receive it in private.
After almost ten minutes of writing, tearing out paper, re-writing, crossing out and re-writing again, he managed to settle on a simple message that was good enough.
Share a custard cake with me tonight.
R.A.B.
A small smile crept on Regulus' lips, pleased with the short and clear message. He knew she would know exactly what he meant, and trusted that his route through the dungeons would not be as deserted as it had been.
"What's that?"
Regulus quickly picked up the piece of paper and folded it neatly, not looking up at Barty, who had managed to sneak up on him while he had been buried in his thoughts.
"Just a note to my father," Regulus said with such calmth and stability that he surprised himself.
"Hm."
Regulus knew that he was being secretive, and how much Barty hated not getting answers, but he knew that his friend wouldn't press him on matters that he discussed with his father. Despite both of them coming from important families, the Blacks had always been of such status that it seemed to overshadow most other houses.
After excusing himself to go start his rounds, he made a quick stop by the owlery. His owl sat in her usual spot, cleaning her feathers, when Regulus attacked the folded piece of parchment to her leg.
"To Lottie Vernier, as quickly as possible," he instructed the bird as he gently patted the top of her head. The owl gave a soft hoot, before spreading her wings and taking off, disappearing into the black night sky. It would probably take the bird a couple of minutes to locate Lottie, so Regulus took his time walking back to his usual route.
He still didn't know how exactly he was going to tell her what had happened at the party after their talk. How was one supposed to tell someone that all their friends thought they slept together? It would be horridly awkward, and most likely she was going to be angry with him. He hoped she would at least give him the chance to explain himself; to tell her it really had seemed like the least damaging option at the time.
Different scenarios played through Regulus' head as he strolled through the corridors. If anyone was to bump in to him now, in his meticulous uniform and proud prefect badge, with his straight posture and the usual intimidating air about him, they would have no idea just how nervous he felt. It was a skill at this point, to be able to present himself so perfectly neutral, and even though he had had anything but a rose colored upbringing, being able to pretend was one of the best gifts his parents had ever given him.
He had briefly run into professor Slughorn, who was on his way to his office from the dungeons, and made small talk with the teacher. The man always seemed to be pleased to see him—which wasn't a surprise at all given his reputation—and Regulus was too aware of the benefits of being a teacher's favorite to not use that to his advantage.
By the time they were done, he had continued is way to the kitchens and picked up his pace a little bit. Lottie should have received his message a while ago now, and he hoped she hadn't been waiting for him for too long. Or worse: she had been waiting, but he had taken so long that she had returned to her common room. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he left the owlery, but it couldn't have been more than 30 minutes. With a little bit of luck, she would still be there. If she even showed up at all.
The corridor that held the entrances to both the kitchen and the Hufflepuff common room was deserted when Regulus hurried down the steps. Not much of a surprise, of course, since most students adhered to the curfew.
Regulus wasn't too worried yet. Maybe she was inside the kitchen, not wanting to get caught by a teacher.
He made his way over to the portrait of the fruit bowl and tickled the pear. When the door handle appeared, he pushed it down and opened the door, half expecting to see Lottie with her mouth full of cake again, like he had months ago.
But Lottie wasn't in the kitchen. A few house elves were working—scrubbing the floor and surfaces or stirring in pots—and they each greeted Regulus politely.
"Master Black," one elf in particular, Kolby, said to him with a bow. Kolby always took the time to talk to Regulus whenever he visited the kitchen, and Regulus smiled down at the elf.
"Good evening, Kolby. Still hard at work, I see," he said.
"Of course, sir. Christmas break might be near, but we are running low on strawberry jam, so we are hard at work making new batches."
"As diligent as ever, I see," Regulus said, his smile widening a little. He had always hated the fact that Kreacher, and as he had later found out, all house elves, didn't actually have any free will. It had felt so inherently wrong that these hard working, kind, loyal beings were only ever rewarded with abuse, both verbal and physical. It had been the one thing his parents had never been able to suck out of him, no matter how hard they tried.
"Would you like a treat?" Kolby asked, motioning behind him with his scrawny arm, to the pantry where Regulus knew all the good snacks lay waiting for him.
"As a matter of fact, I would," Regulus said with a nod. "You don't happen to have any custard cakes, do you?"
"I do!" Kolby replied happily before quickly hobbling over to the pantry. Regulus slowly circled he long island counter in the middle of the kitchen, his hands folded behind his back as he looked around him while he waited.
When the elf returned, he brought with him a plate full of the delicious, soft and creamy cakes he had requested.
"I always keep a few extra in the back, just for special students," Kolby said as he put the plate down on the counter.
"But I'm your favorite, right?" Regulus asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly as a playful smile tugged on his mouth.
"Hm…" Kolby replied, and even though Regulus had meant it as a joke, he hadn't expected the elf to not agree with him, or at least entertain his joke.
"I'm sorry, Master Black," Kolby said, his eyes big and apologetic. "You are not."
"No?" Regulus said, tilting his head to the side a little bit. "Who is it then?"
"Miss Vernier, sir."
Despite Lottie being the only other student he had seen around the kitchen, he still hadn't expected her name to be brought up in this context.
"Vernier?" he repeated, inviting the elf to elaborate.
"A Hufflepuff, sir. I believe she is in your year."
"I know her, yes," Regulus said, careful not to sound too impatient. "What makes her your favorite?"
"She is always kind to us," Kolby said with a wide smile. "She tells us about muggles and how they so things. She has even brought us muggle books and read them to us. And she brings treats sometimes. From home, muggle sweets, and they are very good."
"Ah," Regulus said, the smile returning to his face. "So food is what won you over. I can't say that I'm any different though—your custard cakes are divine, after all. I—"
Regulus was about to say how the cook at his parents estate would sometimes make custard cakes and how they couldn't possibly live up to the ones Kolby made, but the sound of the kitchen door opening cut him off.
When Lottie stepped into the kitchen, Regulus felt all the nerves that had momentarily fled his body during his conversation with Kolby, rushing back to him.
She looked pretty. She always looked pretty, but there was something about the dark candlelight that fell over the castle at night, that the natural daylight somehow didn't capture. It was almost as if she radiated warm light herself—the way her eyes flickered in the yellow sheen of the candles, her skin glowing and inviting.
Regulus had been so caught up in the simple act of seeing her again, especially being alone with her (well, almost), that he didn't realize that the girl seemed a little troubled as she stood in front of him. Her hands were tucked behind her back and her foot dug into the stone floor, the way it had in the grass when she had walked over to him after they first met. That whole week seemed like a lifetime ago now, and he almost smiled at the memory of their strange run-ins that week.
"Good evening," Lottie said, her smile warm despite her uneasiness.
"Good evening, Miss Vernier. How great to see you again. We were just talking about you," Kolby said, and Regulus felt his stomach clench. He hadn't expected the elf to mention their conversation to her, and without context he had no idea how this would look to Lottie.
It looked like Kolby had taken her by surprise, because her eyebrows shot up a little bit and her leg stilled.
"Oh? Only good things, I hope," she asked, though her tone betrayed her apprehension.
"Of course," Kolby beamed. "I told him how you always bring us gifts, and tell us stories, and keep us company."
This seemed to comfort her, because Lottie's shoulders relaxed a little bit and the smile on her face became brighter. Merlin, she was practically radiant.
"I don't have any gifts for you this time, I'm afraid," Lottie said, pursing her lips a little bit as she moved her arms in front of her, revealing a small package in her hands.
"This is for Mr. Black. But, I will definitely bring you something after Christmas break," Lottie said, emphasizing the last sentence, though Regulus hardly caught what she had said.
His attention was fixed on the package in her hands: a rectangular, flat box wrapped in shiny silver and green paper. A twine bow was neatly secured around it, and Lottie fiddled with one of its ends.
She had brought him a gift.
"Not a problem, Miss Vernier, we are always looking forward to your visits, with or without gifts."
There was a long silence, and apparently Kolby had caught on to the tension that had fallen over the room, because the elf excused himself before disappearing to the pantry, as did the rest of the elves.
They stood in silence, the sound of fire crackling and liquids bubbling on the stove in the background. Regulus looked up to meet Lottie's eyes, and as soon as he met her gaze, she smiled at him. It was as if a warm, sparkling glass of butterbeer had spilled in his stomach—a warmth spreading from his belly through his whole body.
"I got your message," she said, a little awkwardly.
"Which is obvious, or else I wouldn't be here right now," she added with a light scoff, more to herself than to him.
"I've been meaning to talk to you so I could give you this, but…well, we haven't really seen each other much this week," she continued, the smile on her face wavering just slightly. He knew very well that he was the reason they hadn't spoken or seen much of each other that week—the little spat with Barty and Evan had prevented him from doing so.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," Regulus said with a light shake of his head. "I was…preoccupied. Deadlines and…Quidditch practice."
Regulus knew from experience that he was a good liar. He had mastered the act of keeping his face and voice perfectly under control, and he had gotten away with many a white lie in his sixteen years. But in front of Lottie, with her piercing gaze that looked straight through him, he felt stripped from all his defenses. He was sure she had caught on to his lie, but rather than confronting him about it, she didn't press on about it.
"It's alright. I…wanted to give you this. It's a Christmas present," she said, her eyes having returned to the softer gaze he was used to. She held the package out to him, and after a second's hesitation, Regulus accepted it.
"Thank you…" Regulus said, staring down at the package. Nobody had ever given him a gift, not unprovoked anyway. His friends got him birthday gifts, and his parents gifted him things on important occasions, but at no point had he expected to receive anything from Lottie.
"I…I'm sorry, I didn't get you anything."
He felt stupid. There was no way he could have known she would bring him anything, so it wasn't something to feel this bad about, and had it been any other person he wouldn't have even cared, but right now he wanted the ground to swallow him.
"That's okay, I didn't expect anything," Lottie said, and Regulus could tell she meant it. There was no sign of hurt or disappointment in her eyes. She had just wanted to give him the gift and expected nothing in return.
"You can't open it yet, though. Open it on Christmas," Lottie said as she fumbled with her hands in front of her. "You have to promise."
She was so damn endearing he had to stifle a smile.
"I promise. No sooner than Christmas," he said with a curt nod as he folded his hands behind his back, the gift securely in his hand.
Lottie beamed at him in delight. "So, those custard cakes…"
"Oh, right," Regulus said, already having forgotten all about the cakes. He turned towards the counter and put the gift down, then reached out and grabbed one small cake in each hand. He turned back to Lottie and held one out to her, matching her smile.
Lottie took the cake from him, and when their fingers briefly brushed he savored the feeling it sent through him. Lottie hopped onto the counter in a manner that had Regulus guessing she had done this many times before, and he leaned his backside against the edge of the marble counter top before taking a bite of his custard cake.
"I think Kolby puts cinnamon in them," Lottie said, her voice a little muffled as she chewed her treat. "That's what makes them so good."
"Cinnamon?" Regulus repeated, cocking his head a little as he studied the cake in his hand. "It's not very noticeable."
"I almost didn't notice it at first, but they taste…warmer somehow than other one's I've had before."
"I wonder if you taste warm."
The thought had popped into his mind before he realized it, and his eyes widened slightly in fear that he had said it out loud. Lottie, however, showed no sign of him having said anything, and he steadied himself. It had just been a thought. An invasive, ridiculous, burning thought.
Merlin, he was in trouble.