*crawls back one year later in shame* Um. Hi.
If you're still here, thank you very much. Seriously. Your support means so much to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I hope you enjoy this long overdue chapter.
Chapter Eleven
With midterm exams upon them, Diana barely had any time to eat or sleep in the days leading up to the tests, let alone tutor Regulus Black on top of it all, so, thankfully, their sessions had been suspended in the meantime, which suited her just fine. Better than fine, actually. In fact, it was more akin to a blessing from Fate herself.
"Whatever it is you're thinking, Diana, stop. It won't end well for you."
Sweet Helga Hufflepuff, how her face positively burned when she recalled his words, sharp and flat all at once, and the coldness and the distance in his eyes—
"Miss Fairchild!"
Diana was jerked out of her reverie when Professor Sprout slapped a hand gloved in dragon-hide on the worktable Diana shared with her friends.
"Oh, sorry. Yes, Professor?"
"I do hope you don't plan on grinding down your grengula root that much on your practical, hm?"
The professor stared pointedly at Diana's mortar and pestle, and the grengula root within that she had ground down to a fine powder – too much, as the powder slowly evaporated in the greenhouse's humid air. The one thing that Professor Sprout had warned them not to do at the start of the lesson.
"Er, no, Professor. Sorry, Professor," she said, rushing to clean up as her classmates snickered around her.
"That will do, Miss Fairchild," Professor Sprout said wearily. "You're dismissed for the day. Go back to the castle and be sure to reread the section on grengula roots in chapter six of your book. Good day."
Diana fled the greenhouse, her face hot and her ears ringing. Another botched lesson. Perfect. If she kept going like this, she'd never pass her Herbology N.E.W.T. She needed to get out of her own head, dammit!
Once inside the castle, she made her way to the Hufflepuff Basement, resigning herself to study until lessons were over and she could go to lunch. She was halfway across the entrance hall when someone said her name.
"Diana Fairchild."
She turned at the unfamiliar voice and was stunned to see Magda Travers drifting toward her from the direction of the dungeons. Diana was certain she had hallucinated Travers being the one to call out to her, but there was no one else in the hall but them.
"Yes?" she said, hoping her voice didn't sound too high or squeaky in fear.
Travers simply held out a sealed scroll, and Diana took it hesitantly. This close, Travers was somehow even more beautiful than Diana had been led to believe. Her eyes were shrewd and the color of molten toffee, and they pierced Diana like twin swords. Her hair was impossibly thick and sleek, braided back from her cutting features like a rope of black silk. She was taller than Diana by several inches, and she tried not to feel like a mouse as she unfurled the scroll and recognized Professor Slughorn's fancy cursive. A last tutoring session the week before midterms, she read. Wonderful.
"Thank you," she said to Travers, not making eye contact as she stuffed Slughorn's letter into her bag. "Er, sorry you got stuck with tracking me down."
"It's not a bother," Travers said in a dry, cool voice that reminded Diana of crisp autumn evenings. "Actually, I volunteered."
Diana's stomach dropped. "You did?"
Travers nodded slowly. Her eyes traveled the length of Diana, from her scuffed muddy loafers to the wand pointing out of her haphazard bun. Her lips pursed in contemplation.
"I still don't see it," she murmured, speaking more to herself than Diana, "but I can understand the intrigue."
"Er…what?"
Her eyes cut back to Diana's. "You're a clever girl. I can tell. What do you think I mean?"
"I honestly don't know," she said, bewildered. "What is this about?"
"The only thing we have in common." Travers stared at her. "Regulus."
Diana clutched the strap of her bag tightly. "What? I mean, yes – he's your housemate and I'm his tutor, but I don't—"
"Has it driven you mad yet?" she broke in. The only thing that moved on her face was her lips, colored with a shade of deep plum. "His moods are such unpredictable things. He'll laugh with you one day and then pretend you don't exist the next. Or does he act differently with you?"
Diana was completely out of her depth. Her hands tightened further. "I'm only his tutor."
"If only you were," Travers said, her voice low. "Then I wouldn't be speaking to you. Then I wouldn't be worrying about him."
She took a step back. "Look, whatever you're thinking, you're mistaken. I'm barely even on speaking terms with him."
"His gaze haunts your very steps, and you don't even know it," she said. She tilted her head, curious and incredulous in equal measure. "People always think they're subtle, but they're not. A passing glance, they think. That won't be suspicious. But one becomes two, two becomes three, and you know the rest from there."
There was no hostility in her tone, no envy or anger – just nothing. And that was what terrified Diana the most. Nott had blasted a bloody hole right through her hand without remorse, but it was the calm, poised girl in front of her that made her realize which Slytherin she should fear above all.
"What do you want from me?" Diana whispered.
"I won't give you a warning to stay away from him, though you'd be better off heeding it," Travers said in that same frighteningly cool manner. "You must know by now what kind of burden he carries. Distracting him from his duties is almost certain to destroy him. I'm only here to remind you that he is not like you, and he never will be."
"That…still sounds like a warning to stay away," Diana pointed out, hoping that she wasn't about to get her face ripped off, but to her utter shock, Travers's lips cracked in what could almost be considered an amused grin.
"When this is done," she said, "it's best if you forget all about him, Diana. It won't end well for you."
Her words eerily echoed Regulus's, and Diana's mouth went dry. She wondered for one wild moment if Regulus had sent Travers to do this, but she sensed that all of this was of Travers's own volition. These weren't the petty words of a jealous lover.
They were pieces of armor for Diana to try and assemble before the fall of the executioner's blade.
"I'll take that into consideration," said Diana quietly. "Thank you."
Travers gave her a ghost of a smile before she was gone, just as quickly as she came.
In the gathering dark, Diana had never felt so cold.
Diana didn't think she had ever dreaded a Friday night so thoroughly before.
She'd been avoiding Regulus for the better part of two weeks, and though she had known Slughorn would wrangle them together one last time before the holidays, a meek part of her had hoped that the Potions professor would simply forget, just like he had forgotten to ask her for his key to the Restricted Section back. But luck or Fate or whatever had certainly not been on her side in the matter, and now she stood outside of the Potions classroom door, her palms clammy and her heart skipping every other beat.
One last time, she reminded herself, gathering the vestiges of her dignity and squaring her shoulders even as one hand self-consciously smoothed down a stray wisp of hair that had escaped her bun. Get this over with, and then you're done with it all. You'll go on holiday and come back next term like nothing ever happened.
Except something had happened. She had discovered that Regulus Black and Augustus Nott were Death Eaters and that there were possibly more within the walls of Hogwarts, attending lessons and eating meals right beside her and everyone else, underneath the noses of every student and staff member alike. She'd learned that Regulus was going to extraordinary lengths to preserve his family's safety and that the once-intolerable Slytherin was the most faceted and fascinating person she had ever met. How was she supposed to forget these things and move on?
"Are you going to go in, or are we going to stand out here the entire night?"
The cool, amused voice made her jump; she'd been so focused on her thoughts that she hadn't heard the footsteps clattering on the stairs behind her. She peeked over her shoulder, and Regulus raised his eyebrows. "Well, tutor?"
His expression betrayed nothing but the reserved friendliness he had begun treating her with during their sessions. There was no disgust or discomfort like she had been imagining. The realization allowed some of the tension to leave her shoulders.
"I was, er, admiring the woodwork," she said, gesturing to the plain door with its old steel hinges.
His eyebrows rose higher. "Were you?"
She wanted to slam her head in said door. "Yes. It's very…medieval."
"I see." His lips twitched. "Is there, ah, anything else you'd like to admire before we go in?"
"Oh, shut up," she said as he disguised a laugh behind a cough. She opened the door, her face as red as a Gryffindor banner as he shuffled into the classroom behind her. "You get to set up everything on your own now for that."
"Of course," he said as he set his bag down and went for the cauldrons stacked on the far wall. "I wouldn't want to impede on more of your admiration for medieval architecture."
Diana batted down her growing embarrassment. "You're in a good mood tonight, Rich Boy."
"Why wouldn't I be?" He lugged a cauldron to their table and set it down. She watched as he prodded the bottom with the tip of his wand to start a fire. "Slytherin absolutely flattened Ravenclaw in last week's match. The Quidditch Cup is practically in our hands now."
Diana wasn't aware just how long the euphoria of victory lasted, apparently. "I heard about that. Congratulations."
He glanced over at her with something akin to a pout. "You didn't watch?"
"I don't watch any matches," she said hastily, now feeling guilty about her lack of Quidditch engagement. "Er, never felt compelled to. Sorry."
"There you go apologizing again," he said. "I'm not upset, Diana, don't worry."
"Oh. All right." She busied herself by getting out her Potions book. "Er, Slughorn said he wanted you to try brewing a Dreamless Sleep Potion. It's supposedly our midterm practical."
"Very well." He made for the storage cupboard at the back of the room, and she suddenly remembered what Sirius Black had said to her all those weeks ago.
"Regulus," she said, turning to meet his gaze. "You're not really bad at Potions, are you? You've been faking it this whole time. And please don't lie to me," she added when he opened his mouth. "I think we're a bit past that now."
His jaw worked for a few moments before he spoke. "How did you figure it out?"
"When I had you brew that Draught of Living Death," she said. "The night you burned your arm." She gestured to his left arm, it flexed involuntarily under her gaze. "Remember? I kept feeding you the wrong instructions on purpose to see if you would slip up."
"I remember," he said with an annoyed scowl. "But you pieced it together before then, didn't you? How?"
Her fingers tapped nervously on the cover of her book. "It wasn't actually me who figured it out. Your, ah… Sirius was the one to tell me."
Regulus had frozen to the spot. His lips barely moved as he breathed out "What?"
"He came to me earlier that week, asking about why I was tutoring you," she said in a rush. "He seemed surprised. He told me that you had grown up brewing potions and could do them in your sleep. He hinted that you were being bad on purpose. Were you? Are you?"
Regulus's eyes had sparked to life with fury. They glinted out at her like knives. "Why are you telling me this now? Why didn't you say anything sooner?"
"You made it clear you didn't want me mentioning Sirius," she said, defensive. "And I wanted to find out the truth for myself. Why would you lie about something like this, Regulus?"
"What else did he say to you?" he demanded.
"Nothing. That was the first and last time I ever spoke to him. I didn't even know he was aware of my existence until then."
Regulus rubbed at his jaw, and she watched, wary. She'd rarely seen him so agitated.
"Was he telling the truth?" she pushed.
He dropped his hand and sighed. "Yes. He was."
Her mind reeled. "Why? Why would you pretend—?"
Another memory struck her then, from the very same night she'd been testing him with the Draught of Living Death. She'd asked him why he had requested a tutor, and he'd said "I didn't. I requested Slughorn's help, but he thought another student would be better."
She sucked in a breath. "Slughorn? Were you trying to get close to Slughorn?"
"That memory of yours is going to get you into a lot of trouble one day." Regulus sighed and returned to his seat next to her, sitting down heavily. "In fact, I'd say it already has if you're still here with me."
Diana cast an anxious look to the door and leaned in closer to him. "Why Slughorn? Is it something—" She faltered, shuddering, before recollecting herself. "Is it something he's making you do?"
Slowly, he nodded. "He wants Slughorn on his side. I can't say why, but I was supposed to get close to him and recruit him into the fold."
She stared, stricken. "Then I ruined everything." She sat back, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs. "I-I should have passed on being your tutor, after all! Or – or you should have told me as soon as we started working together!"
"It wouldn't have changed anything." He shook his head, frustrated. "I think Slughorn knows – or, at least, he suspects what I've been trying to do. He's always been a bit paranoid. Whatever the case, he refuses to be left alone with me. You've seen it; he's always running away."
It explained all of his hasty departures over the term, she realized. It made sense. Except for one thing.
"Then why continue this charade?" she asked, waving a hand to the classroom and herself. "Why put up with pretending to have me tutor you? You could've, I dunno – miraculously become good overnight and say you no longer needed a tutor. You could've brainstormed a new plan. Why sit through this at all?"
He glanced down at the table, and he suddenly seemed extremely uncomfortable.
"I told you before," he said, messing with the onyx ring on his finger. "You don't engage in pure-blood politics. You don't understand my world, so there's no ulterior motive whenever you speak to me. I found it refreshing. Exciting, even."
"So, you kept me around for mindless conversation?" She rolled her eyes. "I'm flattered."
"I stayed because you're exactly the opposite of mindless," he snapped. "And now, you're the only one in this bloody world who knows exactly who I am and what I plan to do!"
She stared, her retort dead on her lips. He glared at her for a brief moment before turning his gaze back to the table and the sputtering flame beneath the cauldron. The low burning of the fire was the only sound in the room for a long moment as she processed his words. Hope fluttered in her chest for a brief moment before she stamped it out.
"It won't end well for you, Diana."
His words and Magda Travers's both. They mingled together in her ears until she couldn't distinguish one voice from the other.
"While we're being honest with each other," she said, her words coming out in a rush before she could lose her nerve, "I, er, talked with someone else earlier this week. Magda Travers."
Regulus's head snapped up. "Magda? You spoke with Magda?"
She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. "She gave me the notice from Slughorn about our session. And she, um, had a lot to say about you."
"Like what?"
"What you already told me." Her eyes darted to him quickly before away again. "To stay away from you, basically."
She didn't mention the other part, about how he supposedly haunted her every step. It felt wrong to admit something so untruthful. Travers had to have been mistaken.
Regulus frowned. "She's always looked out for me. Still, it's not her place to say such things to you. Although she isn't wrong."
"It's a little late to get rid of me now," she retorted.
His lips curled. "I could still always Obliviate you."
She shrank back. "You wouldn't dare."
"No, I wouldn't." He leaned his elbows on the table and sighed. "And that makes me the biggest fool of all."
They sat in silence for a long moment. The flame sputtered again, almost going out before it strengthened once more and burned hotter than before. That finally seemed to rouse Regulus from his own thoughts.
"I'll get the ingredients," he said, pushing away from the table. "Now that I don't have to pretend to be shoddy, this shouldn't take me long to do."
He retreated into the storeroom, and Diana wrapped her arms around her middle, wondering what she was doing. A chasm stood before her, ever-darkening, ever-widening, and still she kept stepping up right to the edge of it, staring down into its darkness and wondering how far the fall would be if she were to jump right then. There was a whole world she wasn't equipped at all to face, a shadowy underbelly on the society she once thought she knew, and it beckoned her to learn more about it, to discover just what she was choosing to remain ignorant of. It pulsed and writhed and bred like tumors, and despite the warnings, she wanted to see, to know. She wanted to know the world that Regulus was a part of. She wanted to know and understand him.
Regulus was wrong. She was the biggest fool of all.
"Here we are," Regulus said when he returned, dumping the ingredients on the table. "Now—"
"I can get you close to Slughorn," she said suddenly, cutting him off.
He stared. "What?"
"What's your deadline?" she asked, ignoring him. "Did he give you one?"
"Who?"
"You-Know-Who." She shot him an exasperated look. "How soon do you need Slughorn recruited?"
He blinked owlishly. It was rather adorable. "I…he didn't say. But the message was clear: as soon as possible."
She tucked her hands under her chin. "All right. Let's say by the end of next term, then. You'll have to keep up your ruse of being awful at Potions; we can't have him on to you. We'll give him a chance to let his guard down, think that he was just being paranoid, that he was wrong to be wary of you. And when he thinks he's finally in the clear, we confront him."
She spread her hands to emphasize her point, and Regulus's brows rose. "We?"
"I told you before that I'm going to help you," she said. "This is me standing by that. Do we have a problem?"
His eyes glittered out at her. "I remember what you said. But you do realize that by doing this, you're also helping the Dark Lord?"
"We stay a step ahead." Her mind whirled through the possibilities, shuffling and discarding like she was simply going through a deck of cards. "We find out why he wants to recruit Slughorn. When we have that information, then we determine what to do."
"And if that doesn't work?" He searched her face, cautious and intrigued in equal measure. "You'd be fine willingly sending an innocent man into the ranks of the Death Eaters?"
She hesitated. She said she'd help Regulus, but how far was she willing to go? She wasn't even sure she could still entirely trust him. He was still a Death Eater. But he was also still a boy trying to protect his family. And in a way, wasn't she doing the same? Hoping to make the world a better place so her family and friends were safe? So her sister Carina could bring her baby into a world that was loving and peaceful, where discrimination and terror didn't rule their society and lives? Regulus was her key to making that happen. If he succeeded in bringing down You-Know-Who from within, and she helped him, then she could ensure that future. They could both protect the ones they loved.
"You're not the only one willing to risk everything," she said quietly. "So, are we doing this or not?"
He studied her for a long moment. His throat bobbed when he swallowed. Her own throat felt quite dry when those dark grey eyes swept her up and down before finally settling on her face. They faced each other on the stools, their knees just barely brushing, and she fought to keep her defiant expression from slipping when he shifted so that their knees were now firmly pressing into each other.
"Swear it," he said, startling her when his voice came out raspy. He cleared his throat. "Swear yourself to me, and I'll do the same to you."
She inhaled sharply. "Like an Unbreakable Vow?"
"Not that far." He crossed his arms. "I still think you're being incredibly reckless and foolish, but you said this is what you wanted. To help. But I'm still giving you an out. When the time comes, and you no longer wish to endanger yourself, I'll let you go without a fight. I won't bind you into a vow so selfish and deadly."
She noticed he'd said when and not if. Still, his concern touched her deeply. A lot more than it should have. She pushed those feelings aside and mentally shook herself.
"What are we swearing?" she said softly.
"Our loyalty." He hesitated. "To each other. We'll swear not to betray one another and…to protect each other. And that this is a secret that must remain between us. Forever. We risk too much otherwise."
She nodded. "That sounds agreeable. On one condition."
One of his eyebrows ticked up. "Which is?"
"Don't hide from me. Not when we're alone like this." She lifted her chin. "Keep your mask on to the rest of the world, Regulus Black. But take it off when you're with me."
His lips parted briefly in shock before he pressed them together again. He gave her a stiff nod. "Very well. And you'll swear the same?"
She frowned. "I don't hide from anyone. I have no reason to."
"Good. Then don't ever hide from me." He put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. Her spine locked when he was suddenly so near, his cologne biting into her and his eyes dark beneath long black lashes. "If I'm to be bare before you, then you are to be before me, too."
The words brought heat to her face, and all she could do was nod silently. It didn't help that he did not move away and only held out a hand to her.
She forced a chuckle. "We're just going to shake on it?"
"Would you like me to get on my knees instead?" he murmured.
Her face burned hotter, but she grinned. "I don't have a problem with it if you're offering."
He shook his head with a puff of laughter. "Just give me your hand."
She did, but instead of shaking it, he grasped it gently, and with his other hand, pressed something hard and solid into her palm. She looked down at the ring he had just given her, and shock went through her when she recognized the onyx stone and inlaid silver.
"I can't take this," she insisted, thrusting it back. "It's yours. Besides, I have nothing to give to you in return."
"Just take it," he said, pushing her hand back gently to her chest. "And you don't have to give me anything. Unless you'd like to swear on your blood or your breath."
"My breath?"
"It's quite outdated now, but it still holds its own magic," he said. There was a spark of mischief in his eyes, but she detected no lie within them, either. "Keep my ring, and I'll keep your breath."
She hesitated. "I won't be cursed or die or anything, right?"
"No, nothing like that. It's just…a more intimate oath. Still quite breakable, I promise you. No tricks."
"Fine," she hedged, "but you swear first."
He closed her fingers around his ring and held her hand in both of his. A shiver laced up and down her spine when he held her eyes and said, "I swear myself to you, Diana Fairchild. My loyalty, my trust, and my barest, truest soul, I, Regulus Black, do swear."
He released her, and though she felt no different, the weight of his words still sank into her heart like leaden thorns, holding it there between his promises. Shakily, she lowered her hands.
"Again with the dramatics," she joked weakly.
He only gave her half of a smile. "Your turn."
"What do I have to do?"
"Place your lips on mine and swear your oath."
The blood drained from her face. "Like a kiss?"
"No," he said, not quite meeting her eyes, "that's different. You just say what I said but…closer. That's why it's called swearing on your breath." He plowed on before she could answer. "Of course, it's not necessary – you can simply just say it and I'll be fine with that—"
"I'll swear it," she said. "O-on my breath, I mean."
"You don't have to—"
"I'll do it," she said, firmer this time. "Why bring it up at all if you wouldn't want me to do it?"
He said nothing, and a thrill went through her. Did that mean he was hoping she would do it?
Nonsense, she thought. You can get that idea out of your head.
"Let's just – get it over with," she said. "You still have a potion to brew before curfew."
She set down his ring and leaned toward him. He didn't move, even when their noses bumped, and she could feel his own breath against her lips. "Like this?"
She kept her eyes downcast, focusing on his lips. Every nerve stood at attention in her body, and she fisted her hands in her skirt. The intimacy of being so close to him was making her heady, and she struggled to focus on keeping her breathing even.
Regulus was as taut as a rubber band, ready to snap at any moment. Still, he murmured "Mm-hm," and the sound made her hands clench tighter.
"Okay, then," she whispered. Every word brought their lips together, and she marveled at how soft and cool his mouth was against hers and what it would be like to seal the rest of that distance. A tremor went through him, and it would have been imperceptible if they were not sharing the same breath at that moment. She swallowed, hard.
"I swear myself to you, Regulus Black, upon my own breath," she said. Her lips moved against his still ones, but he accepted each word as if he had reached within her and stolen them out himself. "My loyalty, my trust, and my barest, truest soul, I, Diana Fairchild, do swear."
"And I accept," he said, his voice ragged. His teeth grazed her bottom lip when he spoke, and she gripped her skirt so hard that she was surprised the fabric did not rip.
He didn't pull back, and neither did she. They sat, lips touching but not touching, and she stepped ever closer to that chasm's edge, staring down into its shadows. Could the fall truly be that bad? Would it kill her once she reached its end?
"That's it, then?" she forced herself to say. "We're sworn to each other now?"
"Yes," he breathed. Her eyes flicked down. His hands were clenched so tightly in his lap that his knuckles had gone white. She kept her gaze on anything but his. If she looked into his eyes, she knew that there would be nothing to stop her fall. "I to you, and you to me."
Still, they did not pull away.
"The potion," she said weakly.
He shuddered. "I know."
She delved deep within herself to find a modicum of restraint. It won't end well for you. It won't end well for you.
It won't end well for you, Diana.
She pulled back.
The fall would have to wait.
Regulus's shoulders sagged. He sucked in a shaking breath. "That was smart."
"You told me to stop feeling what I felt," she reminded him. She felt lightheaded and dizzy like she'd just emerged from the depths of the sea. "I intend to honor that."
"You have more restraint than I do," he said, sounding half-grudging, half-impressed.
Her hands stilled from where they'd been tapping against the cover of her Potions book. "But now that we've sworn not to hide from each other…just know that should you change your mind, I'm – well, I'm…here."
It was a pitiful declaration compared to the one she'd just made, but it was honest. He nodded slowly.
"I'll remember that," he said, and that on its own was its own vow.
They did not speak again until he had finished the potion, delivered it to Slughorn's desk, and escorted her up to the entrance hall.
"Goodnight, Fairchild," he said, his voice oddly scratchy and loud in the dark hall.
"Goodnight, Black," she said, and turned away before she could do something stupid.
But she knew as she got into bed that night, that even if he did end up Obliviating her, she would remember the taste of him for the rest of her life.
Let me know what you thought!
Until next time! (And hopefully sooner than a year)
