Despite the fact that the gift had been sitting in her schoolbag for days, when Lottie had received Regulus' note she hesitated whether she should bring it or not. It had become hauntingly obvious for the past days that Regulus hadn't been as interactive with her as he had been. She had no idea what had caused the shift, but she was sure something was up because he definitely had been avoiding her gaze.

Eventually she had decided to bring it anyway. He had been the one to reach out to her after all, which had to be a good thing. If he ended up not wanting it, she would just take it back and it wouldn't be big deal. Even if the thought of him rejecting her gift was humiliating and just awful.

But he hadn't rejected her.

He had accepted it, and from the look on his face Lottie gathered that she had made the right decision to bring the gift after all. If she hadn't known the Blacks were seriously wealthy, the sparkle in Regulus' eyes would have made her believe the boy had never received a gift before in his life.

Lottie smiled to herself as her and Regulus ate their custard cakes, the kitchen doused in a comfortable silence. Her feet lightly swung back and forth as she bathed in the quiet joy of sharing such a simple, little moment of happiness with the other. Maybe the memory of tonight would be able to hold her over until the end of the Christmas break without missing it too much.

Missing him too much.

"My apologies," Kolby's voice came from behind them. Lottie had completely forgotten they hadn't really been alone in the kitchen, and quickly hopped off the counter. The elf never had never complained about it before, but she realized that it might have been a bit rude to plant her behind on the work surface him or one of the other elves had cleaned not long before.

"But it has come to my attention that professor McGonagall is headed this way. It might be troublesome for you if she finds you here," Kolby said, his big eyes fixed on Lottie.

"Thank you for the warning Kolby, I should get going anyway. I still have some packing to do," Lottie smiled at the elf, who graced her with a polite bow.

Lottie turned to Regulus, who had picked up the gift again after he finished the custard cake. He was inspecting the package, a fingertip gently tracing the twine wrapped around it. She wanted him to like it, needed him to like it, and the anticipation was almost high enough to ask him to open it right then and there. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that there was a chance he didn't like it, and she was sure she wouldn't be able to deal with the emotional consequences that outcome would bring. If he opened it at Christmas and he didn't like it, at least she wouldn't be there if he tossed her gift in the bin.

"So…I'll see you after Christmas break," Lottie said after finally tearing her gaze from Regulus' hands to look up at his face. He looked up to meet her gaze and opened his mouth to say something, but the words never left his lips before they closed again, doubt flashing through his eyes.

"Right. I hope you have a pleasant Christmas, Vernier," Regulus said after a second, the sliver of doubt now having vanished. Whatever he had wanted to say, he had chosen not to.

"You too, Black."

He hadn't been able to bring himself to tell her. He was a selfish coward, too caught up in the wave of sparks that Lottie had set alight by simply caring enough to think of him and picking out a gift for him. Knowing that he had been on her mind when they hadn't interacted in class, however logical the concept was, made his head fuzzy. He wondered whether she thought about him as often as he thought about her.

Aside from a moment's glance at the train station, Regulus didn't see Lottie anymore before he arrived at Grimmauld Place. As soon as he stepped foot inside the narrow foyer in his childhood home, every last trace of warmth that had spread through him when she had smiled at the people he had assumed were her parents, evaporated from his skin.

"Regulus, is that you?"

His mother's shrill voice was unmistakable and for a moment he regretted coming home at all.

"Yes, mother."

He made his way to the sitting room, where the stately and elegant-postured Walburga Black was apparently hosting a small tea party. Three other women—all pure-blood and rich—completed the small circle surrounding the antique coffee table, which was tastefully made up with food and refreshments.

"Did I mention that Regulus won Slytherin the Quidditch Cup last year? What would that team do without a Seeker like him," Walburga said proudly before taking a sip from her delicate teacup.

Regulus gave the ladies a polite bow when they gave an impressed array of sounds, already so incredibly tired of the whole interaction. He wanted to go up to his room and stay there until the next time he would be forced to leave.

"You must be tired, dear, go rest up," his mother said with a light wave of her hand. Ignoring the rude gesture—he was much too grateful to have been released from her attention so soon—he hurried up to his room and tossed his bag onto his pristinely made up bed. It was nice to be in his room again, the only place in the house that was his, and his alone. Whenever he wasn't in his father's library or the kitchen, this was where he spent most of his time. Small, dark, closeted, safe. And so, so lonely.

The only person whose company Regulus actually enjoyed in his own house, was Kreacher. The house elf had seemed so happy to see Regulus returned, the boy's heart had warmed a little bit for the first time since he had gotten home. As always, the elf asked him how his first term at Hogwarts had been, and he spent a good chunk of the afternoon filling Kreacher in on his endeavors.

"And…there is also a girl," Regulus said after recapping the first Quidditch match (Slytherin versus Gryffindor), which they had won. He was lying on his bed, his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

"A girl?" Kreacher repeated, as he used a duster to clean Regulus' wardrobe. No matter how many times the wizard told the elf he didn't constantly needed to be working, Kreacher always insisted, and by now Regulus had given up telling him off.

"A classmate," Regulus added as he sat up to look at his friend. "She's…a Hufflepuff, and a sixth year, like me."

He was ashamed to admit to himself that he couldn't bring himself to mention that she was muggle-born. No matter how much he cared for the house elf, the creature had been in the Black family for generations, which meant he had been exposed to she same poisonous beliefs his parents had bestowed on Regulus himself. He trusted the elf to keep his secrets, but he wasn't sure that he would keep this one from his parents.

"We share a few classes together. We pair up sometimes for potions class," Regulus said as he laid back down again, fixing his gaze on the chandelier hanging from the dark wooden ceiling beam.

"She's brilliant—she usually gets one of the highest grades in class, no matter the subject. She helps people, too…with their studies, I mean. I think she likes seeing other people succeed. She is…kind. She gives things to people, to the kitchen elves, without any reason."

Kreacher was silent as he let Regulus speak, probably not sure what to even say about it. Regulus had never talked about anyone like this to the elf—even if he had had girlfriends in the past. Most of the short lived flings had been fun, but unremarkable.

And here he was, talking about a girl who was most likely never going to set foot in this house. A girl who was never going to get the approval of his parents. A girl who would, probably, vanish from his life as soon as their final year at Hogwarts ended.

The days leading up to Christmas passed excruciatingly slowly, each day occupied with either a formal dinner, party or other social engagements. They passed in a blur, even if he spotted any of his friends at the events. He should have expected as much—since they all really only socialized in the same circle—but he found himself silently wishing he could have gotten a break from them during these two weeks as well.

The only thing that truly distracted him from the bothersome repetition of his daily routine, was the idea that had formed in his mind the day after he had gotten home. He was going to give Lottie a Christmas present back.

One afternoon, in between lunch with his cousins Narcissa and Bellatrix, and a dinner at the Dolohov estate, he had managed to find a few hours to roam around Diagon Alley and its neighboring shopping streets. He had no idea what he was looking for, but rather than trying to think of something from the top of his head, he would try to walk around and see if anything caught his eye.

Browsing through a particular antique shop, he stilled when he spotted two matching items, sitting side by side on a dusty, red velvet pillow.

Talking mirrors, set of 2.

50 Galleons.

He picked one of the snitch-sized mirrors up; its reflective side hidden by a golden little door that one had to click open by pressing a small button on the side. The gold plate on the front was embedded with intricate swirls and flowers, the thin lines tinted with a deep green. They were beautiful even without function, but Regulus heart sped up at the thought of them being able to talk more often, without having to be in the same room or resorting to using owls.

It was the perfect gift, even if it was as much a gift to himself as it was to her.

After securing the two mirrors, which now sat neatly wrapped in a little velvet bag, he had to worry about the next matter at hand. Getting the gift to her.

He considered his options over dinner, while his school friends and their parents conversed with Walburga and Orion, his proud and important parents, who would surely both choke on their expensive wine if they knew what was on their son's mind.

He could send the package to her per owl. It would be fairly quick and secure, as he was sure that his owl would have no trouble finding her house. In doing so, however, he risked his owl getting intercepted by possibly the worst possible person: his mother. It wouldn't be the first time she would open his mail, addressed to or from him, and the risk of her catching on to the mere existence of a girl he was interesting was enough to give up on that plan.

He could also wait until after the break, and give it to her when they both got back to Hogwarts. But that was such a long time from now, and knowing that he had a device in the palm of his hand that would allow him to have a little piece of her in his own home, quickly made him dismiss that option.

The last, and admittedly most complicated option, was to visit her himself. A simple locating spell would do the trick—he doubted that her family had any means of protecting themselves against one—so getting there shouldn't provide much of an issue. He was a skilled Appirator, so transportation was covered. A more pressing matter was how she would react to his visit.

Much for the same reason as to why he couldn't send her the gift, the risk of his mother finding out he was planning on visiting a girl in secret would be enough for her to intervene and at the very least do her best to find as much out about her. As soon as it would come to her attention that Lottie was muggle-born, he was sure the consequences would be too grim to risk.

He was going to have to show up unannounced, which he knew was rather rude, but maybe—if he was lucky—she would be as happy to see him as he was at the prospect of seeing her. It would be a little escape from the icy cold of his home.

Regulus contemplated staying up until midnight on Christmas Eve. Technically it would be Christmas Day, which meant he was allowed to open the gift that had been staring at him from his bedside table for the whole week now.

But when he was woken up by a sliver of sunlight creeping in through the deep green curtained window, he realized he had fallen asleep earlier than expected. The week had exhausted him, it was honestly concerning just how much more of a strain it had been to go through the motions that every year before, he had coped with just fine. It was as if in the past few months, his mind had slowly but surely separated itself further and further from everything he thought he was and stood for. It was disorientating and, if he gave it enough thought, scary, which was exactly why he didn't think about it.

Regulus shot up in bed, his silk sheets sliding down the equally soft fabric of his buttoned pajama shirt. He didn't have to look over to locate the green and silver package sitting on his nightstand. He grabbed the box as well as his wand, and with a little flick of his wrist, the curtains by the narrow window slid apart, allowing more of the sunlight to spill inside. He knew he wasn't technically allowed to use magic outside of school, but throughout his life he had performed many a small spell here and there, without ever having been warned or so much as even contacted by any Ministry official. One of the perks of being an heir to the house of Black.

He carefully untied the twine bow before peeling off the wrapping paper, which looked like it had been wrapped by hand. When he pulled the paper away and discarded it somewhere to the side of his bed, his eyes fell upon the book in his lap.

Simple Healing: What We Can Learn From Muggles

The book stared up at him, its leather cover pristine and gleaming with different colors ink. Regulus opened the book and skimmed through it. It was a book full of recipes and techniques inspired by healing techniques muggles used in the absence of magical resources. Such a simple gift, and yet it was so much more than that.

It was a glimpse into Lottie's world. At Hogwarts, they were on neutral ground, although one could argue that really, it was his world. Hogwarts, and per extension the magical realm, was his home, his childhood, his upbringing, it was all he had ever known. She was the one who had to have adapted to a new and unfamiliar reality. Never having taken Muggle Studies at Hogwarts (his parents had made it clear once, and only once, that it was absolutely the most awful subject taught at the school), he realized that this was the first time he was presented with something educational about muggles, rather than endless slander.

It was a little piece of sunlight he could keep with him in the dark, cold snake pit of a house.

He spent the whole morning reading, annotating the side columns in the book with a pencil as he took notes and underlined parts that piqued his interest. He had expected to learn about muggles and some of their customs regarding healing, but he hadn't expected to actually get inspired by the contents of the book. He found himself marking a recipe every now and then, and he wondered whether Lottie would help him to try and make some of the potions together if he asked.

When he finally dragged himself out of bed and washed up, he couldn't stifle the smile that had settled on his face. He was going to have to fix that before joining his parents for lunch, because the last thing he needed was them questioning his stupid smile.

As if his happiness was something to be questioned.

Christmas break was almost perfect. It had been just as nice to see her family again as she had anticipated; knowing she was always in for a cozy two weeks filled with family and laughter. She considered herself lucky for the fact that her parents were as close with her uncles and aunts as they were. The three of them stayed over at her mother's oldest brother's house during the days leading up to Christmas, where Lottie shared a bedroom with her youngest cousin. The girl was eleven, and she might have been Lottie's biggest fan. Wherever she went, the young girl followed her, asking all kinds of questions about what it was like being a witch, whether she could make her hair different colors, and if she, too, would go to her "magic school". Lottie enjoyed spending time with her, despite the constant stream of questions, and before she knew it, Christmas Day had arrived.

The whole day was filled with gifts, cozy quilts and hot chocolate by the fireplace, a walk through the park through a thick blanket of snow, and food, lots of food. By the time most of her cousins had gone to bed, Lottie's heart felt warm and buzzing. She hated how little she was able to see her family throughout the schoolyear, and she always feared that the two short weeks during winter was too little to truly capture the comfort she felt when she was with the people she loved the most, but as she lay in bed and stared at the small night light on her bedside table, she felt happy. Content.

She wondered if Regulus' Christmas had been as nice as hers. Whether he had opened his gift yet. If he had liked it. If he would read it. What he would say to her once they saw each other again during potions on the first Monday back at Hogwarts.

A soft tap against her window drew Lottie's attention to the four glass planes, separated by thin lines of wood. It was pitch black outside, the soft glow of a half-moon the only source of light int he otherwise dark winter's night. The branch of a nearly tree lightly brushed against the window, giving away the source of the tapping.

The moon's glow increased—some clouds must have passed by it, dulling its shine—to such a brightness Lottie had to squint against it. That was absolutely not how bright the moon was supposed to be, even if it had been a full moon.

Lottie sad up in her bed, one eye squinted closed and the other barely opened as her gaze was fixed on the window. On the other side of the room, her cousin was still sleeping, peacefully unaware that anything out of the ordinary was happening at all.

Something moved outside the window, but the light was too bright for her to be able to make out what it was. She slowly moved the sheets away and stepped out of bed, her fingers wrapping around the base of her wand that she always kept on her nightstand. She slowly crossed the room as her eyes adjusted to the light, and by the time she reached the window, she realized the source of light was an animal. A silvery, almost liquid animal made out of fog and light.

It was a fox. It was sitting on a thick branch directly under the window, peering at her directly through the window. Its tail slowly flicked back and forth as it hang towards the ground, and Lottie got the feeling she was meant to go towards it.

She had read about Patronus messengers before. More than just its primary use of repelling Dementors, they were frequently used to send messaged to people when regular owl post wasn't available or not an option. She had never received a message like this before, though, and she also had no idea who the Patronus belonged to. When they had practiced the spell during Defense Against the Dark Arts, she had managed to perform a successful one when settling on a particularly happy memory of her last Christmas at home, which had been just as delightful as this years'.

None of her classmates at the time had produced a fox for a Patronus though, so she could quickly rule out Georgia, Winnie and most other people she knew.

The fox sat unmoving, as if waiting patiently for her to take her time and reach out to it whenever she was ready. Feeling as though she wasn't in any danger, Lottie put her wand away and turned away from the window, crossing the room to grab a bathrobe, which hang from a small hook on the door.

She hurried down the stairs as she wrapped the fuzzy coat around herself and secured it with the waistband. The house was quiet, all of her family members probably fast asleep by now, but she made sure to tiptoe as silently as possible, just so she wouldn't disturb the silence too much.

The room she was staying in, as well as the tree outside it, were situated on the backside of the house, which also happened to be host to the kitchen on the ground floor. Lottie made her way over to the back door and peered through its small windows.

The fox now sat on the ground, featherlight on the undisturbed snow. Apparently it wanted her to go outside.

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the inevitable bone-chilling cold gust of wind she was about to let inside, before unlocking and opening the door.

The fox stood up, blinking up at her a few times, before slowly dissolving into a swirl of iridescent smoke. Lottie stood there, momentarily frozen and unsure if she was supposed to do anything, when something moved behind the tree.

The grip on her wand tightened and she tried to focus her eyes on the movement, her eyes having to get used to the absence of the Patronus' light again.

A tall figure stepped out from behind the thick trunk of the tree. The person wore a long, black coat, but other than that, it was too dark to make out any details.

What gave him away, was his hair. The unmistakably perfect unruliness of Regulus' curls was unique to him alone, and Lottie might have blushed over being able to recognize his silhouette this easily, if she wasn't so surprised by the fact that he was standing in her uncle's and aunt's backyard.

"What are you doing here?" Lottie whispered, before realizing she hadn't even properly greeted him.

"Wishing you a happy Christmas," Regulus said as his features finally became more visible the closer he got to the house. He came to a halt in front of the door, his cheeks and nose a rather bright shade of red, and Lottie wondered just how long he had been waiting for her in the freezing cold.

It was so nice to see him again, she had to force herself not to hug him as soon as he was within arm's reach. It seems like Christmas, even if she hadn't thought it possible, had just become that much more perfect than it already had been.

"Come in," Lottie quickly said as she stepped aside, but Regulus shook his head.

"I can't stay, and I don't want to keep you up for too long."

No. He couldn't be leaving already, not when he had just given her what was possibly the best gift she had gotten this year by simply showing up.

"You only came here to wish me a happy Christmas?" Lottie asked incredulously, and Regulus gave her a nod.

"And to give you this."

He pulled a hand from the pocket of his coat and held out a little bag, small enough to fit into the palm of her hand. She took it from him and turned the bag over, but the exterior revealed nothing about its contents.

"You got me a gift?" she asked, so softly she wasn't sure whether he had heard her.

"Yes. Although, it's as much a gift to you as it is to myself," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

She looked up at him again and found him smiling down at her, his expression softer than she remembered him ever looking. Her breath hitched in her throat and for a moment, her gaze flicked down to his lips. His smile was small but genuine, and it sent a wave of butterflies through her stomach.

She quickly looked down at the bag again and opened it. From it she pulled what looked like a pocket watch; round and compact and beautifully decorated. She knew better than to expect something as normal as a simple pocket watch, though, and she pressed the little button on the side to open the golden door.

She stared back at her own reflection—or rather, the top right quarter of her face, the surface of the mirror too small to see anything else from this particular angle.

"I have one too," Regulus said as he pulled his other hand from another pocket, and held up an exact copy of the trinket in Lottie's hand.

"It functions as a regular mirror, but if we both look at it at the same time, we'll be able to see and hear each other."

Lottie fixed her eyes on her own mirror again as Regulus opened his, and felt her heart skip a beat when Regulus' dark, green-gray eye replaced her reflection. His dark, strong brow cast a shadow over his eye, his cheekbone prominent and catching the light in such a way that it made his otherwise angular face look even sharper. He looked breathtaking, even if she could only see such a small part of him.

She had no idea how he had this effect on her through a mirror of all things, even though he was literally standing in front of her.

She carefully snapped the golden cover shut and closed her hands around the flat round and looked up to meet his gaze.

"It's perfect," she said, and she wished she had more words to properly express just how much this small object meant to her, but she couldn't come up with anything else semi-intelligent.

Regulus' smile widened a little as he cast his gaze to the ground. He seemed relieved, and she wondered whether he had ever doubted that she would like his gift, and if so, why? How could she possibly not?

"I should be going, but…" Regulus said with a quick glance over his shoulder, before turning back to her, "Whenever you feel…feel like talking, I'll be there to listen."

Lottie picked up on the hesitation in his voice, and she wondered what he had been about to say before correcting himself, but she didn't want to push him on the matter.

"I also wanted to thank you for your gift. I'm looking forward to doing some muggle-inspired potionmaking once we get back to Hogwarts. We might not be able to make them together during class, but perhaps you can me a visit in the Slytherin common room some time and you can help me out," he said, lifting his compact mirror by its long golden chain.

Lottie smile couldn't have been wider even if she tried.

"I would love that."

Regulus had left after that, insisting that Lottie would go back to bed after having woken her up, but she found it absolutely impossible to go back to sleep. She was tempted to keep her mirror next to her pillow and look into it until his hazel eye appeared again, but managed to resist. He was probably asleep if he had returned home, and she didn't want to risk weirding him out by staring into the mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

If only he knew what he was doing to her.

Regulus kept the hand mirror on his desk, opened and turned away from him. He knew that if he put its reflective surface towards him, he would end up sitting there, waiting for Lottie to appear. Not wanting to run the risk of not answering should she want to talk to him, however, he kept it just within reach and earshot, knowing that he would be able to hear her if she tried to talk to him.

He felt silly as he spent his days cooped up in his room; reading, studying, keeping busy while telling himself he wasn't simply waiting to hear from Lottie. She was probably so busy at her family's house, she would hardly have time to think about him.

Still, he kept the mirror opened at all times, until it had become just another object on his desk, and he could actually get some work done without glancing over at its golden plating every few seconds.

On the Saturday before his return to Hogwarts, Regulus found himself in his father's library, as he often did when he wasn't in his own room. He was browsing the hundreds of titles, his eyes gliding over the spines of the books he had so often flipped through already, when his father entered the room, the his firm and weighted steps unmistakable on the old wooden floor.

"I hear you're performing adequately at Hogwarts," his father stated, speaking in his usual formal manner.

"I wouldn't dare to disappoint," Regulus answered, just as vaguely. His father never made small talk, and Regulus stilled as he waited for his father to reveal why he had really come to talk to him.

"You'll be initiated as a Death Eater by the Dark Lord next summer."

It was as though the floor had dropped from underneath him. Regulus had known that it was coming—he had always known he was going to be a Death Eater at some point, but he didn't think he would still be a student when it would happen.

"Next summer?" he breathed, unable to hide the apprehension in his voice. "But I'll still have my last year at Hogwarts to finish."

"And you will," Orion said, staring him down without so much as a blink. "As a Death Eater."

Regulus' mind reeled at the thought of having to combine his studies and blossoming friendship with being a foot soldier for the most dangerous wizard of their time, and came to the rapid conclusion that he had no idea what he was supposed to do. He felt like the situation had just taken a turn for the worse, and he had lost control over it, unable to revert it back.

"You'll do well not to get distracted in the last few months before your recruitment. You're the future of this household, and I trust you will make us proud."

Regulus felt numb as his father spoke.

He knew his days were numbered—there was no way he was going to live a long and happy life as a Death Eater—but this development had rapidly increased the speed at which he was headed towards the most terrifying chapter of his life yet.

Serving the Dark Lord.

A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews! 3