Buckle in, Snarlies. This is our longest chapter to date. I've left the customary Author's Note at the end.
Please enjoy Chapter 27.
*WARNING: LEMON / THE GOOD STUFF*
"I don't understand – London?"
Sirius watched her with silver-grey eyes, his mouth twisted. Whether it was a scowl or a smirk, Charlie couldn't know. He had spoken the words with an air of finality, as though he knew the words which would escape her lips before she spoke them.
"I need to be close to James and Lily, Charlie. Look at what's going on out here."
Charlie's mouth opened, and then slowly closed, "You can apparate, Sirius. It isn't like you're reliant on the muggle trains."
"I don't want it to be an argument. I just want to know if I should expect your boxes at the door."
His words hovered in the air.
Had there ever been a moment before now that she had questioned it?
Just months ago, she could recall them sitting on the steps before Grimmauld Place, planning their escape from Walburga's leering eyes. They would buy a place in Scotland with her inheritance – Sirius wasn't likely to bring a knut of his own – near Wigtown, the wizarding village outside of Galloway.
Charlie would start her apothecary apprenticeship. She would restart her father's business in Scotland. Maybe one day in the future, she would reopen the shop in Knockturn Alley. They'd have a handful of children with hair like the night and eyes like stars.
It had all been planned.
Sirius's jaw tightened, "James said you would do this. You always have to make these things difficult. Can't you just get over yourself long enough to consider it? This is part of our plan."
"None of this was part of our plan, Sirius. It was part of your plan with James."
His fingers combed through tousled black locks, formed into claws, "Don't be like that."
On the sidewalk, the others stood awkwardly.
This was a discussion meant to be had in private. Instead, it was taking place outside the Leaky Cauldron in muggle London, with his friends peering over the top of a muggle contraption, anxiously awaiting some sort of signal from their friend that it was suitable to enter the pub for a pint of butterbeer.
Sirius threw them a look, and Charlie felt her skin heat.
"You've already done it, then? Bought the place."
His silver eyes met her amber beneath narrowed brows, "It's my money, Charlie."
It was Alphard's money, she wanted to tell him.
"It's a nice flat in London. We can get to James better if we need to. The Alley's right here, you wouldn't need to worry about finding a whole new shop. You can just use your dad's place."
The words rushed out of him, and she wondered how long he had been mulling the information about in his head to shape into a more appealing proposition.
"You aren't a muggle, Sirius," the words left her mouth in a harsh whisper, "The idealism that you've built in your head like you're more like them than the rest of us isn't true. I don't want to live in London. I want to follow the plan we made together."
"Well I've bought it," he threw his hands up, "I've bought the flat, Charlie. I can't return it like a set of robes."
An air of finality fell over her shoulders as the victory spread across his lips.
"Then don't expect my things, Sirius," She said finally.
His face froze.
She looked at him closely, a sudden need to memorize his face gripped her by the gut.
He had grown a thick layer of stubble over his sharp jaw, his straight, long nose obscured by a new set of freckles. Working, she thought, in the sun at the Potters' place on his motorcycle. The broadness of his shoulders had grown, the thickness of his forearms. He was turning more and more into the version of himself that Walburga had tried her best to extinguish from him. The soft tan of his skin made his eyes glow, the curve of his open mouth more defined.
"What does that mean?"
Charlie felt her chest constrict as she looked over at the curious, painstaking attempts at eavesdropping his friends enacted outside the Cauldron.
"I think you know what that means."
"But, baby, come on-!" his voice rose sharply, "That's not – this isn't how – Charlie!"
His voice split as she turned around, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as a stone grew in magnitude within her throat.
"Are you breaking up with me?"
Sirius sounded breathless, and her heart screamed for her to turn and take his hands. She wanted to soothe the terror from his voice. How often had she heard those whispers in the night when Walburga had come marching down the stairs for him? Charlie wanted to rub the pain from his voice, the way she had pressed her hands against the marks his mother's wand had left on him, willing them to disappear.
"You did all of this without me. You and I made plans. It was supposed to be by us, for us, remember?"
When she turned, she saw the widened eyes and parted mouth, the pupils dilating with the syllables that left her mouth. She knew what terror looked like on Sirius Black.
She had seen it every time Walburga had cursed him with the Cruciatus.
For a moment, it killed her to inflict the same terror upon him.
When Sirius had left Grimmauld Place, he hadn't taken her with him. He had been assured that Walburga would never lay a finger on the cow that was the last Fraser daughter. She had better purposes. She had been less frustrating – more obedient. Walburga loved Charlie in all the ways she wouldn't love her oldest son.
Perhaps he hated her for it.
Sirius had not questioned how Walburga would change when he left. How adamantly she had thrust her ward upon every eligible wizard within throwing distance. The Hogwarts wizards had been out of the question, after a time. Everyone at Hogwarts had known Charlie belonged to Sirius. Instead, it had been the Durmstrang boys, and then those from Beauxbatons. It had taken a year for her endeavors to be evidently fruitless to her own observations, and then she had turned her sights upon the younger.
How often had she locked Regulus in Charlie's bedroom this summer? How frequently had she become inexplicably drowsy as she stumbled to her crushed velvet comforter, lead by the hand by Kreacher, only to awaken to Regulus standing over her?
How do you tell your boyfriend that his mother is drugging you to sleep with his brother?
Impropriety.
Walburga was trying to ruin Charlie's reputation, and she would be successful sooner or later.
She'd give up on Regulus and move to a wizard with lower morals. One who eyed the prize of a large inheritance and an unconscious witch.
Charlie couldn't remember the last time she hadn't slept under her bed, waiting for the heel-clicks of Walburga Black outside her door.
She had needed that house in Scotland, away from Grimmauld Place and Walburga.
A safe place.
A real home.
Desperately, she had wanted it, and it had crumbled from her fingers like sand.
Charlie couldn't live in London, a mere stone's throw from Grimmauld Place. Not when Walburga would be thirsting for blood. She couldn't live surrounded by muggles. Muggles with their guns and their bombs and their innate desire for violence. Charlie's parents had been buried in pieces because of muggles.
"So, we're just done then? Over a bloody flat? C'mon, Charlie – come in the pub and have a pint. I'll show you the place tonight and you'll love it."
He turned towards his friends, and Charlie saw his eyes meet James.
"I'm important, too," she said suddenly, and the wizard turned back to her, "Do you know that? I'm important, too."
"Of course. Baby, I love you. You're the most important witch to me in the world. Let's go have a butterbeer, alright?"
"But he's more important," Charlie pointed at James, "All of them are," her hand waved towards the Marauders, Marlene McKinnon, and Lily Evans standing on the street. "You made all these choices without me. So how important can I really be?"
Growing up, Charlie had always had her father's fairytale in her ears. She would meet a dashing wizard who would love her beyond measure. He would protect her and provide for her. They would find a castle together in the mountains and rule over a tiny kingdom of their children.
Charlie didn't want a castle or a kingdom.
She just wanted to stop being so scared all the time.
"Goodbye, Sirius."
The familiar tug around her bellybutton ripped her forward, and suddenly she was standing with burning eyes in front of Grimmauld Place.
Quietly, she reached to touch her eyelashes and clear her throat. It took two strong attempts to dislodge the frog that had formed there, but she squared away her purse across her chest and walked through the gates.
Walburga was sitting in the foyer when she came through the door, her bright blue eyes peering over the top of The Daily Prophet. Kreacher poured her a cup of English breakfast, his beady eyes staring at his mistress in fear-laced adoration.
"An unsuccessful shopping trip, then?"
Charlie cleared her throat again, "Yes, ma'am, couldn't find anything in Madame Malkin's. A mess, you can imagine. Perhaps we could go to Twilfitt and Tatting's this weekend?"
Walburga's small mouth turned at the corners in a semblance of a smile, "Of course you didn't find anything in that mudblood's shop, my sweet. We'll see Madame Twilfitt. I'll send an owl and make us an appointment for Saturday. You'll need a dress for Sunday supper. The Dolohovs are coming. You know their son, Antonin, from Hogwarts? He's a year ahead of you and Regulus."
Charlotte knew Antonin Dolohov.
She knew what he had done to Vivian Wood in the girls' lavatory in her fifth year.
"I'm busy that night, actually," Charlie stepped forward, willing the anxiety from her voice.
Walburga raised a landscaped brow, her mouth souring.
"Then I suggest you free yourself, Charlotte. It would be improper to disinvite them."
On the crushed velvet comforter, Charlie threw her shoes at the closed bedroom door, her shoulders beginning to shake.
Wide silver eyes framed in thick black lashes and tan eyelids flashed across her own each time they closed until they streamed. Charlie's chest was too full and too hollow at once. It felt as though someone had twirled one of the scoops from Fortescue's inside her ribcage, tearing through each artery around her heart to loosen it enough to squeeze it into a new shape.
Not a year ago Sirius had sat on her bed, their fingers laced together as they mapped out their lives together. A tiny house in a Scottish village with a garden. Charlie would plant flutterby bushes – not because they were pretty, as Charlie had thought they were a bit gaudy – but because she liked the butterflies they brought. Sirius would build a garage to work on his motorcycle. In the evenings, they would sit in front of their fireplace and play Wizard's Chess.
She had made it so perfectly in her mind; she could count the woodgrains in the front door and smell the sharp scent of the bushes. Her ears could hear his barking laughter somewhere behind the stone walls, carrying over with muggle music blaring on a wireless radio.
It was her safe place while Walburga paced the corridor outside her bedroom door. Charlie could run her hands over the sofa she would buy with Sirius and catch the pattern of the green tartan and smell the woodsmoke from the fireplace and it would make the trembling of her body subside.
It was gone now.
The seventy-three lines of woodgrain.
The thick threads of emerald and silver tartan.
The woodsmoke and flutterby scents.
Even the barking laughter.
Replaced instead with wide, horrified eyes and the whispering of Marauders upon the sidewalk, watching as her plans rapidly deconstructed with every word that left Sirius's mouth.
Charlie's fingers covered her mouth, growing wet with the onslaught of tears pouring from her eyes as she smothered the noises escaping her lips.
Just for a few days, she didn't want anyone to know. She didn't want to sit at the supper table across from Walburga Black's smiling, small, rouged mouth. Orion would be busying himself with the stack of files he had brought home from the office, still submerged in a world he rarely left by his own choice. Kreacher would stream a muttered line of insults and spill the tea on her lap again to scald her thighs.
If only for a few days, Charlie wanted to stave the storm.
In a matter of weeks, she would be back at Hogwarts. During the summer, she was rarely permitted to send an owl to her friends that hadn't been proofread by Walburga. Both Wilhemina and Louisa had brothers. It wouldn't be proper, Walburga had reasoned, for Charlotte to be seen gossiping.
They could hole up in their dormitory and Louisa would comb her hair the way she said her own mother did when she'd had a crying fit. Wilhemina would break into their stash of hoarded Honeydukes sweets and sweet talk one of the boys to sneak to the kitchen for a pot of hot chocolate. None of them had any love for Sirius, but they loved Charlie.
Baby, I love you.
A sob cut through her moist fingers.
How Charlie had loved those words. They were like sun on a rainy day, peeking through the clouds of Grimmauld Place to shower her in warmth. She had never tired of the way his voice lilted when he told her he loved her, as though he emphasized the word especially for her.
All of her firsts had been Sirius.
He had kissed her in Hogsmeade in her fourth year, behind the Three Broomsticks. His lips had tasted like butterbeer and sugar quills, his breath warm on her chilled face. Her first date at been at that same pub a year later, sheepishly smiling as she chewed a large mouthful of chips while Sirius barked in laughter across the booth. Just that summer, she'd given him her last first at the Potters' house with hushed noises as they undressed in the dark.
"Not an ounce of impropriety," Walburga had screamed at her sons when they'd been caught in the dark playing Exploding Snap, "You'll ruin her!"
Charlie wondered what Walburga would do if she knew what Sirius and Charlie had done.
"Charlie-bell?"
Regulus quickly shut her door behind him, his bare feet padding across the rugs quickly.
"Charlie, what's wrong?"
He climbed across the comforters to seize her, dragging her towards him until she was flush and pressed against his chest. His hands sought the back of her head to stroke her crown.
"Sirius – Me and Sirius – I didn't think -," her voice rambled now, in hushed, quiet sobs, "It's all gone."
Regulus was the shorter, stockier version of his brother. Whereas Sirius had towered over her small stature, Regulus had missed several of Sirius's centimeters. But where Sirius was lean muscle with broad shoulders, Regulus was like a solid rock. He was thinner than he had been in their younger years, lean and thickly muscled the way a beater for Slytherin's Quidditch team ought to be.
He'd cut his hair shorter, trying to look less like the brother he shared so many facial features with. It was short on the sides now, longer on the top whereas Sirius had kept his locks shaggy, his beard a fine line of stubble compared to his younger brother's cleanshaven jaw.
For the longest time, Charlie had loved them both.
Sirius had been her partner in crime. They had lain traps for Kreacher in the corridors and snuck handfuls of hard candies from the crystal bowl in the darkness of night.
Regulus had been her defender. If Walburga had reeled around to spit venom at Charlie's moments of rebellion, Regulus had never failed to take the step between them. At Hogwarts, he had ensured their Housemates kept their opinions on her relationship to themselves.
"It's okay – it'll be okay," Regulus whispered, "I've got you."
In between her gasps for breath above the waves of sobs, she told Regulus. His pewter eyes watched her face unblinking, set above the regal nose with a slight crook where a bludger had broken it last year. His rough hands reached forward in intervals to smooth the fat, rolling tears from her cheeks, his brows growing closer together with each whimper that escaped her lips.
"Muggle London, what a piece of work," scoffed the younger Black brother as his arms tightened around her and he leaned back into her pillows, "Of all places."
His fingers combed through her damp, tangled hair absently.
"Mother told me the Dolohovs offered to help father get a seat on the Wizengamot to come to supper."
Regulus gently untangled a knot in her hair with his fingertips, his eyes focused on the task.
Orion had been trying for a seat on the Wizengamot since Charlie had come to live at Grimmauld Place. His politics had prevented his ascension to the position. He had little resolve to either side, and none would have him for it. Antonin's father was on the Wizengamot, though. He would have enough pull in his party to bring Orion aboard.
"She's given up on setting us up," he muttered, "Thinks this is the next best thing."
The younger brother's fingers paused in her hair, just at the bend of her throat beneath her ear. His thumb moved in circles there, before it paused, his pewter eyes watching her own.
"My father's always wanted that seat, Charlie-bell. Mother won't care what it takes to get him in it."
Vivian Wood had graduated last year.
Charlie could remember the months after – the way she had skittered around corners. Once, in the girls' lavatory, she had come out of a stall just as the older girl had. Vivian had screamed loud enough to send one of the professors running in.
But the girl hadn't told anyone of substance. She had quietly hidden away from the jeers of the boys in Charlie's House calling her 'whore' and 'slut'. Her younger brother was on the Quidditch team as a chaser. Last year, he'd stolen Sirius's bat and thrown a bludger at Dolohov. He'd had to sit out the rest of the season, but there had been a smile stretched as wide as his cheeks would permit as he watched Dolohov escorted off the field with a bloodied handkerchief stemming his streaming nostrils.
"I don't want anything to happen to you."
She could hear the same noise in his voice that had been in his older brother's that afternoon.
The fear.
"There's only one thing she wants more than that Wizengamot seat."
Not one ounce of impropriety.
"She just wants you."
You'll ruin her.
"She doesn't want you with my brother. She wants the last Fraser on that damned tapestry in the sitting room."
The last Fraser.
It was the genetics she was after. Too much inbreeding in the British pureblooded families had left them with a variety of ailments. Wizards and witches lived longer than muggles, but with each generation they were dying younger. It was rare enough now to find a pureblooded family not in the Sacred Twenty-eight of Britain.
Charlie's father had always thought the genetics a bit of rubbish. He'd laughed at the announcements in the Daily Prophet.
Look, ma cher, another set of cousins!
Her mother had been French – Emile Adrien. The Adriens were a prominent pureblooded family in France. But despite their limited numbers in either nation, it was rare enough when two crossed paths and married. Charlie had always loved hearing the story of her parents' meeting. Emile had traveled to London with her mother and had gone to Diagon Alley. She'd been carrying a stack of books to improve her English and had walked straight into her father. They had exchanged owls through their last year of schooling – Emile to practice her English, and Malcom already in love with the dark-haired French beauty. They'd married a month after graduation.
Regulus's hand had stilled on her head.
"We could just tell her," Regulus said, his finger twirling a lock of her hair around his finger in slow, unsure movements, "We could say you've fallen in love with me. She'd call it all off."
Charlie snorted, "Like she would believe that Reg."
The brother stiffened.
"Do you have a better suggestion, then?"
She didn't want to look into his pewter eyes, the darker, smokier version of his brother's when Sirius's were still wide-eyed and horrified when she closed her own.
Walburga had something in her sights that she had always wanted. Perhaps she had given up entirely on the outcome she had wholly invested by raising Charlie. Orion would take the seat in the Wizengamot, and she would be able to re-enter the pureblooded society with a leg-up. She could perhaps make a better match for Regulus and rise further. She could scrub away the soot left by her eldest son's debauchery and bring the House of Black back shining in the book of the Twenty-Eight.
Sirius would hate her for it, she thought.
But the gears had begun twisting with momentum.
If Antonin Dolohov were locked in Charlie's bedroom with her unconscious, she had no doubt that he would do to her exactly what he had done to Vivian Wood in the girls' lavatory. She'd have the same split lip until someone gave her a spot of dittany and carry the same hollow-eyed look the older witch had carried until she graduated. Walburga would effectively ruin Charlie's reputation within the pureblooded community because Dolohov would never keep his mouth shut about it.
There would never be an apothecary reopening under the name of 'Fraser'. Charlie would never receive the money left to her by her parents. Walburga would never give that a sum to an unmarried witch – especially not one whom had thwarted her plans for years to marry her off to one of her own sons.
Charlie would be penniless and unemployed with a ruined reputation.
The door had seventy-three woodgrains.
No one would hire her in the pureblooded community once Walburga had sent her black envelopes out. Their wives would tighten the leashes to ensure that none of their husbands so much as considered Charlie's applications for an apprenticeship at the Ministry, or any other business of substance in London.
She'd be forced out without a single sickle to her name.
"Maybe we just try it out," Regulus suggested cautiously, "We could go on a few dates together."
Charlie could hardly hear him.
Sirius would hate her.
How many times had he accused Regulus of loving her? She had lost count. She could recall each time he had slurred the words at her after indulging too heavily in his drinks after a Gryffindor party, being dragged from the Slytherin dungeons by the nervously smiling Marauders.
He would never forgive her for it.
But Sirius was living in muggle London, in a flat surrounded by muggles. Above, below, on either side. She'd be boxed in. There'd be no apparation to the front door anymore, she'd be taking that muggle lifting contraption the building likely had, or endless flights of stairs. They probably wouldn't even be able to keep a house elf.
And the muggles would be there, listening.
A decision needed to be made, but her stomach flipped and twisted as Regulus's hand remained still with a single curl of her hair wrapped around his index finger like a collar and leash.
Not one ounce of impropriety.
But the words would not leave her mouth.
Maybe a house couldn't be returned the way a set of robes could be. How Sirius had formed those words together had sounded too practiced. Charlie wondered how many times he had stood in front of the bathroom mirror at the Potters' and recited those words until they sounded natural. James had likely been sitting on the tub's edge, coaching him through every syllable. It wasn't wrong to want to live near your friends, she allowed. Charlie certainly could have imagined a world in which she lived a stone's throw from Louisa or Wilhemina.
But he hadn't even talked to her about it. He had excluded her entirely from the conversation.
There had never been a time in her life that she'd done the same to him. She didn't even buy her robes without asking him if her skirts were too short. Sirius was there when she had decided what career she wanted to pursue at Hogwarts. From big to small, she had always taken his opinion.
Did hers matter so little? For something so big?
Charlie's eyes burned once more.
He'd done it to live near James. Remus and Peter were probably someplace nearby, but Padfoot and Prongs were the closest of the four. Like true brothers – the way she'd always hoped he would be with Regulus.
But he was too close to Walburga and her pursed, rouged mouth and her bitter grudges, and too surrounded by muggles with their guns and thirst for violence. He'd known all of that and decided to do it anyways.
She'd told him she was important, too. But she had certainly never acted like she believed it herself. She hadn't gone for the Quidditch team when she'd wanted to because Sirius said she'd break her nose or fall off her broomstick. When he'd refused to hold her hand in the corridors last year, she had decided that it was alright – that he hadn't wanted the trouble from her House mates.
But in her fourth year, he had snogged Astrid Crabbe near the potions' dungeons. She'd cried in her dormitory for a week after stumbling upon them. He certainly hadn't cared what the Slytherins would do then.
"Let's give it a go," Regulus's voice was at her ear, "What's the worst she could do?"
Louisa had told her before they left Hogwarts for summer that Charlie had made her life too much about Sirius, and too little about her. It was time, Charlie decided, that she started making it about her.
Regulus didn't know what Walburga could do, and frankly, she didn't either.
They'd have to be more convincing.
Even as her mind gears worked turning and twisting a new plan into life, her heart screamed in fury. She had waited years for Sirius to notice her feelings – to reciprocate them had been nothing short of a miracle. If she followed through, he would hate her for it. He'd inherited his mother's penchant for grudges. Sirius would never let this one go.
"Go to bed, Reg," she whispered finally, "I have to go into London tomorrow with Mother."
His dark silver eyes watched her own, and the younger brother leaned forward to press his lips to her temple after a soft sigh, "I love you, Charlie-bell."
"I love you, too," she called quietly after him as he slipped from her bed.
As the wizard left, she changed into her nightgown and carefully arranged her shoes in front of the door. If someone wandered in during the night, it would make a bit of noise – enough to wake her from her sleep. Her wand rested under her pillow, and her fingers wrapped around it as she pulled the covers over her shoulders.
She had two days, she reminded herself.
A decision didn't need to be made overnight.
But her dreams morphed into Dolohov's dark eyes following her around the twists and corners of Grimmauld Place's corridors, his soft, menacing laugh echoing down the halls until she woke covered in a thin layer of sweat with her heart hammering brokenly in her chest.
In London, they found a dress at Twilfitt and Tattings and took tea at Rosa Lee's on Diagon Alley.
"This dress is my treat, dearest," Walburga stirred a lump of sugar into her English breakfast, "I won't take it from your parents' vault."
Charlie nodded; her mouth filled with cotton.
Walburga liked to dress Charlotte in high necklines and full-length skirts. Even her school uniform's skirt hung four centimeters lower than the other girls'. The dress Walburga had purchased at Twilfitt and Tattings was emerald silk with a plunging neckline that gathered between Charlie's breasts with a silver snake. It was something for an older witch, Charlie had thought, and hid her wide eyes when Walburga declared it the winner.
"Charlotte?"
Her eyes swiveled from Walburga's pale blue orbs to a set of ones like the sea, "Willie?"
Wilhemina Wilkes smiled as she wound her way through the skirted tables, balancing an armful of paper shopping bags. Her mother waved to Walburga as she spoke with another older witch.
"I thought you'd finished your school shopping, or I would have had mother come get you to come with us!"
Carefully, the slender blonde witch slipped into the seat alongside Charlie, despite Walburga's outraged eyes. She dumped her bags at her feet on the floor and beamed at Charlie, her eyes sharp.
By the curve of her mouth, Charlie knew that Wilhemina had spotted her in the shop window and had begged her mother to come in. Mrs. Wilkes' husband was on the Wizengamot and was part of Walburga's tea ladies. They got together once a week at the tea shoppe in Knockturn Alley and poured streams of firewhiskey into their cups and gossiped over their children's owls from Hogwarts. Charlie had been dragged to enough of them to know that Walburga was begrudgingly invited. She was older than most of them, with old-fashioned views that were beginning to fray upon the hems of the shorter dresses and thicker waves of mascara adorning her friends' figures.
"Did you see the new kittens at the Emporium. Mummy is allergic, but I've been dying for a look," Willie laughed and turned her ocean eyes at Walburga, "Could I steal her from you, Madame Black? I'll have her back before you've finished your tea!"
Mrs. Wilkes was making her way through the tables to join them, a tired smile on her painted face.
"Nonsense, Willie. You girls run off. I have something to discuss with Walburga about our tea next week," Mrs. Wilkes answered her, a winking smile on her lips, "Be back in an hour, girls, please."
Charlie turned her face to Walburga who was chewing a mouthful of her cake carefully, "Go ahead, Charlotte. Do not bring one of those infernal things home."
A smile broke across her face as she seized her handbag from the seat Mrs. Wilkes awaited to occupy, "Thank you, Mother!"
The pair of girls dashed from the tea shop; breathless giggles smothered behind their fingers as they broke from the perfumed air into the stifling summer air outside.
"I told mummy that you looked like you needed a rescue. She's cancelling tea next week – my father has a meeting with the Minister," Wilhemina leaned against the wall of the shop next door, out of sight from the tea house's windows, "You look positively awful."
Maybe it was the easy way her blonde-haired friend smiled or that she was wearing a set of comfortable trousers while Charlie had stuffed herself into the thickly-skirted dress and sweat was now dripping down the small of her back and making her thighs sticky, or if it had everything to do with the day before. But as soon as Willie turned her face back to Charlie with that easy, pink smile, the dark-haired witch broke.
Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as Willie's ocean eyes widened, and she seized Charlie's hands and began dragging her down the Alley.
When they were tucked away in the back of the secondhand robe shop – where neither of their guardians would come searching for them – Willie crushed the shorter girl into her with force. Charlie gasped in her jasmine perfume and through broken sobs allowed herself to come unzipped as tears rolled down her chin and dampened Willie's hair.
"Antonin was talking to my brother this morning about it," Willie said softly when she'd finished, "That his mother had made a deal with Walburga. I wanted to write you, but I didn't want her to see it."
A sob left Charlie's mouth.
"Forget about Sirius, Charlie. I know that he's the whole world to you," Willie roughly pulled her away, Charlie's shoulders locked in the taller girl's hands, "But you need to protect yourself now, okay? He isn't going to come on some shining broomstick and save you from his mother. He left you there."
Charlie whimpered, "But what am I supposed to do, Willie? He's coming to dinner tomorrow night and I can't – I don't – what am I supposed to do?"
Willie watched her, and her hands reached to smear Charlie's tears across her cheeks, "You're going to do what you have to. I did it," she reminded Charlie, "We all do it. The ones with brains, anyway. You're going to ruin your reputation."
Charlie snorted, "Walburga won't care if I tell her I've slept with Sirius."
"She'll care if she catches you doing it with Regulus."
The pair of witches stared at one another amidst the odors of mothballs, surrounded by robes from the 40s and breathing in the dusty air. For a moment, Charlie wondered if the lack of oxygen had strangled the blonde's brain.
"What?"
"She wants the Fraser girl, Charlie. Everyone knows it. Your family built the Fraser Apothecary. Your father had a seat on the Wizengamot. No, she won't care if you fooled around with Sirius because he's been blasted off the tapestry. But Sirius is done now."
Charlie bit into the cuticle of her nail, "I can't do that, Willie."
"I did it," the taller girl reminded her, "So I could be with Liam. Now Daddy's stopped those idiots from coming in the house because he doesn't want anyone else to know I've been with a mudblood."
Of course, Charlie knew that Willie had done it. Liam Creevey was a Ravenclaw in their year, and Willie had thirsted after him ever since he had returned to Hogwarts in fifth year with his buck teeth fixed. But Willie's father had wanted her to marry Rudolphus Lestrange before he'd been spoken for by Bellatrix. Willie had snuck Liam over to her bedroom by Floo, and her mother had walked in on them.
Within moments, the Lestranges had been escorted from Wilkes Manor, hurriedly given excuses that Willie was dreadfully ill. Her father had taken the cane to her legs for it, but Willie hadn't had to endure the parade of eligible purebloods that summer.
"She'll make me marry him, Willie," Charlie hissed, "She will never let me leave."
"Is that such a terrible thing? Reg is your best friend, Charlie. You'll both get out of that dreadful house. You could make a deal with him."
She paused, and then, "I couldn't do that to him."
Willie raised a fair eyebrow, "Do you honestly think he wouldn't jump at it, Charlie? Everyone knows Regulus loves you, daft girl."
Charlie snorted, "He's like my brother."
"He doesn't think of you like a sister, that's all I'll say."
Few understood the dynamic between Charlie and Regulus. They had grown up together at Grimmauld Place. Walburga and Charlie's mother had been friends of sorts, and Charlie hadn't had any family when her parents were killed. Walburga had offered to take her in, and she'd been living down the hall from the younger Black brother for years. They'd been Sorted into the same House. Regulus was her defender. He protected her because he loved her - the way a brother would.
"If she catches you, the Dolohovs don't have to see a thing. She'll want them out before the cigars have been brought out," Willie grinned, "She'll make the last year there a dream if you're with Reg. It's not like you're losing out, either. Reg is a catch, Charlie. He's an insufferable know-it-all, but all the Slytherin girls slither after him in the corridors."
Charlie wrinkled her nose, "They don't know what his feet smell like."
Willie laughed, "Silly girl, you have the solution sitting pretty there in your own house. Go home and shag him senseless and let Walburga catch the show."
"I don't know how to shag anyone senseless, Willie," Charlie hissed, "I've only done it twice."
Ocean eyes rolled at her, "It isn't hard. Lay back and think of England if you have to. I know Reg's got the experience the way my brother boasts about his conquests. You're so lucky," she sighed, "Liam and I were virgins. It was all fumbling, and I don't even remember half of it because I was so nervous I thought I'd be sick on him."
Charlie chewed at her fingernail as the taller witch sorted through a rack of hideous dresses, her eyes on the bodies searching through the racks at the front of the store.
"How do I even talk to him about it? She's listening. She's got my fireplace linked to her room."
Willie frowned, "Just jump him, Charlie. I'm telling you; he'll be thrilled. Wear that sexy set Lou got you for your birthday – the black ones. Really get him going."
"What about Sirius?"
Willie's face soured, "What about him?"
"Walburga thinks I'm still seeing him," Charlie reminded her, "I hadn't told her."
A smile pulled at the corners of her friend's pink mouth, "That just makes it better. Maybe a bit more believable. You've been hiding your relationship with Regulus, so you don't hurt Sirius. That'll be the bit that seals the deal for you."
Hesitation furrowed her brow.
"Merlin, Charlie. What do you want? Do you want to come out of your bedroom tomorrow night looking like Vivian Wood? Or do you want a quick shag with Regulus and guarantee you get out of that house next summer with a huge rock on your finger and all your money in the bag? Do you even understand what this would do for you? Walburga would lose her shit. You'll wake up Monday morning to breakfast in bed and Kreacher rubbing your feet."
The thought made her nose wrinkle, "That's disgusting, Willie."
"It's the bloody truth, honey. Shag Regulus and all your problems are done for."
She fished in her pocket for a watch and glanced at the diamond-crusted hands, "We've got to head back. I've invited Lou for a sleepover. I'll tell her what's going on. Expect us to jump you at the train, Charlie. I want every smoldering detail."
When Walburga and Charlie returned to Grimmauld Place, Regulus was finishing his summer potions essays. She dropped onto his bed with her eyes on the corridor outside, listening for the familiar pause of heels at the end of the hall.
"Did you find a dress to wear?"
"Mother picked one out," Charlie answered, "It's nice."
Regulus glanced over his shoulder at her before returning his quill to an ink well, "That's nice."
He sounded different. His voice was clipped and short, with the edge to it that Sirius held when he was upset with her. They were similar in so many ways. She had hoped that one day, they would see those similarities. Her hopes had been crushed beneath Walburga's patent heels. Mother didn't want her sons to have anything in common. Not Sirius with his rebellion and new ideas. She hadn't wanted him to sully her precious Regulus.
"Will you be at dinner tomorrow, then?"
Reg turned back to his desk, "Malfoy's asked a few of us over." His rough fingers reached for his quill again, carefully tapping the gold tip against the glass.
"Can you stay?"
"I really don't want to be here when my mother locks Dolohov in your bedroom, Charlie," he said, his voice a quiet growl, "There's nothing I'm going to do that'll stop her, and I don't want to see it."
Charlie stood and tip-toed across his floor to wrap her arms around his shoulders, finding the familiar space between his shoulder blades to press her forehead, "Please?"
The tension on either side of her temples softened as the word left her mouth, and a hand reached back to touch her elbow. His shoulders eased and he leaned back into her forehead, taking measured, deep breaths. Her nose inhaled his cologne – the same that Sirius had worn – and felt the sweat on his fingers.
"For me? Please?"
She expected him to say no, she realized. In a similar position, Sirius would. If it were James calling him for a night out away from the horrors of his mother's house, no amount of her pleading would have made him stay. Regulus would go to spend the night indulging in firewhiskey and playing rounds of cards with the other boys while Dolohov hollowed her eyes.
Regulus turned in his chair and pulled her to climb onto his lap. His thick arms wrapped around her waist as he rested his chin on her head.
"Fine," he said, and his voice cracked, "I'll stay. We can sneak out after they've left. I'll send an owl to Lou and Willie for you. We can go to the Wyvern for some butterbeers."
She nodded, feeling his chin move with the gesture as her arms suddenly tightened around him. He stiffened as her arms held a vice grip on his torso, digging her chin deeper against his throat as her eyes burned.
Sirius would've left her.
"I can always count on you," her voice sounded like a whimper, "Just stay with me, okay?"
Regulus nodded, tightening his own hold on her as he pressed his nose into her hair, "I love you, Charlie-bell," he whispered.
Willie's words rang in her ears.
He doesn't think of you as a sister, that's all I'll say.
She shook the words from her ears.
In the morning, Walburga gave her tea for breakfast.
"Nothing until supper. I don't want you looking like a bloated fish in that dress," she said with a coy smile, "Then up to take a bath. Soak in the salts for an hour – we don't want you smelling like a common mudblood."
Regulus cleared his throat, "I'll be home for supper, too, Mother. Malfoy's cancelled the night – something came up with Cissy."
Walburga clucked her tongue, "That girl has too much influence on him. A strong wizard knows how to handle his witch."
Regulus smiled briefly, humming in agreement as he spread a thick layer of marmalade onto his slice of toast. He asked to be excused and took his plate with him upstairs as Walburga continued to discuss the night's schedule with her husband. The Dolohovs would arrive at quarter to five, Charlotte would greet them. They would have drinks in the sitting room until Kreacher finished serving dinner.
"We'll let you two get to know one another better after dessert," Walburga's eyes were blank against her smile, "Orion and Viktor have to discuss his election to the Wizengamot. I'll have the cigars you like."
Orion muttered agreement as he flipped through his newspaper.
Orion Black wasn't a wizard who had any control over his own witch. Walburga had drained him of any substance over their marriage. He'd learned early on enough to ignore his wife's fury as long as it was directed to his sons, and not himself. He spent late nights at the Ministry of Magic, returning home long after Walburga had sent the children to bed, and left before they had finished their breakfast tea.
When she had first come to live at Grimmauld Place, he had stayed up late to teach her to play Wizard's Chess until she could beat Regulus in any match. He'd snuck her bits of candy from his office and let her read the pieces of the Prophet he'd finished.
Walburga had discovered their chess lessons not long after they began. Charlie had gotten an open hand to her face, and Orion had been forbidden from 'spoiling the girl'. He hadn't said more than a handful of words to her in the years since.
In the bathroom, she stripped of her clothes and sunk into the steaming bath brimming with yellow water thickly scented with lemon verbena. A slice of toast covered in a thick layer of marmalade sat on the pile of towels, and her throat tightened.
She ate her breakfast in silence, careful to wipe every crumb from the water surface. For an hour she soaked until her fingers and toes had wrinkled and the water had chilled and then waited several moments longer.
When she rose from the tub, her teeth chattered in the humid air.
For several minutes, she tried to work on her final summer assignment from Astronomy, but the star charts blurred together until every constellation looked like leering eyes staring back at her, and hollow expressions with split lips.
Maybe Regulus would just excuse himself after dinner and change his mind. He'd go to play cards with Lucius – Charlie knew that Cissy was likely thrilled Malfoy had invited his friends over. She was planning the most extravagant wedding the Twenty-Eight had ever likely seen. Lou said she'd heard they had special ordered albino peacocks.
At some point, Dolohov would find her. Charlie didn't know if Walburga would slip the drought into her drink before supper or wait until they were served dessert. It would be a heavy dose if it came after the trifle. Maybe she wouldn't even remember it.
But she would remember the rest of her life with him. Walburga would demand they get married, and the Dolohovs being proper and refined purebloods would agree with her. She'd be sent off like Bella had been. If she refused, Charlie didn't think an auror in the world could protect her from Walburga Black's wrath, or her wand.
She could still hear the way Sirius had screamed the summer he'd come home from his first year as her thundering scream had echoed down the hallway.
Do you know what you have done?
Crucio!
You little shit!
Charlie's eyes closed as she wrapped her star charts.
The clock had escaped her, and she reached to open her vanity drawers to sort her reddened eyes and puffy cheeks to something suitable for Mother.
When she'd finished, Walburga came for inspection. She tightened the elastic around Charlie's bun and fussed with the serpent between her breasts until it rested at the bottom of bottom of her sternum.
"Perfect," the matriarch declared, "You look stunning."
A prize cow. That's what the muggles said, she recalled. Sirius had called her that for years. 'You're my mother's prized cow', he had sneered at her when he'd indulged in firewhiskey.
Regulus's eyes widened when they descended the stairs. His hand reached to adjust his tie, and Charlie saw the tremor in his fingers.
Kreacher was going to the door.
"Perfect timing," Walburga beamed to show her pearly teeth, "Greet our guests, Charlotte."
Her hand firmly dug into the small of Charlie's back and pushed her forward.
The Dolohovs were simply dressed as Charlotte forced warmth to her voice as she greeted them. They had dark eyes and dark hair, with olive skin and sharp cheekbones. It was Antonin that made her voice falter as he took her hand and brought it to his twisted mouth, his dark espresso eyes watching every pore.
"Antonin! Nice to see you again," Regulus stepped forward, "How is practice coming for Quidditch this year?"
Antonin dropped her hand, his gravely voice turning to Regulus as the pair began discussing the upcoming year's Quidditch season. Dolohov was Slytherin's Keeper. Regulus had been given the position of Captain for their final year, replacing Rudolphus.
Walburga's eyes followed her son as he walked Antonin to the sitting room and Charlie's breath hitched in her throat.
They were seated together on the sofa while Kreacher served brimming glasses of scotch to the men and dainty glasses of fizzing champagne to the women. Charlie stared at the bubbles in her glass and wondered if this was the first of them. When she brought the glass to her mouth, she did not swallow. Her stomach growled.
"Hungry?"
Antonin grinned at her, "I, for one, am absolutely ravenous."
His voice was a sinister purr in her ear.
A nervous laugh spilled from her lips and Walburga beamed at her.
"Tell us, Charlotte, what are your plans after graduation?"
Viktor Dolohov swirled his scotch in the glass, "I'm sure you've had job offers. I hear you're an excellent student."
"I've gotten an offer contingent on my NEWT results for an apprentice apothecary at the Ministry," Charlie responded cautiously, "I'm hoping I get the results to accept the position."
"Hopefully, you won't need to," Mrs. Dolohov smiled into her champagne glass, "Not seeing anyone, then?"
"She's been far too busy," Walburga interjected quickly, "Been studying all summer, the poor girl. She'll need glasses if she keeps these late nights much longer."
Regulus snorted and Walburga caught him with a venomous stare.
"Charlotte has told us so much about you, Antonin," Walburga laughed, "It sounds like you've become so close at Hogwarts."
Antonin grinned, "On the contrary, Madame Black, I can't say that we have. It sounds like she's been keeping secrets from me."
Charlie thought she might vomit.
"I've been an admirer from afar, of course. She's a classic Slytherin beauty," the wizard reached to touch her hair, "Impeccable breeding."
Her skin crawled as his fingers touched the back of her neck and trail a line down to rest at the small of her back, where his fingers dug into the silk of her dress.
"A mirror image of her mother. Except for the eyes," Walburga smiled, "Her father's, there."
"How wonderful of you, Walburga, to take the poor girl in," Antonin's mother sighed, "There was no other family?"
"Absolutely none that could take her. Her grandmother was already on her way out the door – she asked if I would take Charlotte. How could I refuse? She reminds me so much of my dear friend Emile."
Antonin's fingers stroked downwards, and bile rose in her throat.
"I've been looking forward to tonight, Fraser," he whispered as Walburga called the Dolohovs to come inspect the Black family tapestry, "It sounds like you have, too."
She took a large swallow of her champagne too quickly to realize what she'd done.
Quickly, she set the glass down, "It is so warm in here. Such a brutal summer we're having. Excuse me, I need to freshen up."
"Take all the time you need, beautiful," Antonin called as she escaped the room.
Her breath came in choking gasps as she darted up the stairs, her heart hammering in her chest like a bludger trying to break free.
She wanted to be anywhere but within these walls. It had been a mistake, she thought quickly, to turn away Sirius. Surely muggles weren't as bad as Antonin Dolohov. Her fingers clawed through her drawers of stoppered vials. She didn't want to be unconscious or inhibited in a room with that wizard and his dark, menacing eyes.
There was nothing that would undo any of the effects Walburga's potion would bring. Her chest heaved as she sucked in deep breaths of panicked air, gulping for a reprieve.
Regulus.
She just needed to stick to the plan, she reminded herself. Willie could be right. Maybe Regulus would catch on. He'd weigh his own options. The worst he could do was say no.
Her fingers brushed beneath her wild, wide amber eyes in the mirror as she took measured gasps of air. She waited until the tremors subsided and quietly left her bedroom.
The worst he could do was say no, she chanted as she descended the stairs.
"There you are, Charlotte. Supper is ready."
Walburga's eyes did not leave her through supper, narrowing and crinkling with the conversation that escaped her lips but never quite adjusted her stare. Charlie talked about her nights at the Slug Club at Hogwarts, and discussed the political climate with Viktor Dolohov, and smiled and complimented Antonin's mother on her thick string of pearls. She ignored the brimming glass of wine in front of her plate but encouraged Antonin to indulge in his own.
Maybe she could get him drunk enough that he'd fall asleep on her comforter instead of assaulting her, she reasoned.
The signature trifle was served for dessert, and Charlotte felt her hands grow sweaty as she dug her spoon into the crystal bowl, smashing pieces of sponge and crème together.
"Charlotte, can you come up with me? I wanted to show Dolohov the Quidditch schedule, but I think I've lost it between our school trunks," Regulus grinned sheepishly, "Could you help me find it?"
"I've been wanting to take a look at it," Antonin agreed, "I'll finish up and meet you upstairs?"
Charlie glanced at the large portion of dessert Kreacher had heaped into his bowl and the small spoonful in Antonin's hand.
"Of course, I'll help you find it. I think I know where it is."
Her chest constricted with every stair.
They had about ten minutes, she calculated.
Sex didn't take forever, she thought. It might the convincing bit that took longer.
It'd give them enough time for Antonin to come upstairs looking for them. Walburga would likely take him up, and they'd find Charlie's room empty and go to the bedroom down the hall.
Where, if Charlie were successful, Walburga would see her and Regulus. Maybe they could try to be a bit louder, so she could hear down the hall. Madame Black had extraordinary hearing. Though Charlie didn't know how loud one could actually be during the act. Her and Sirius had mostly just stifled their noises with sweaty palms and thickly feathered pillows.
She swallowed thickly.
"Dolohov drank your wine," Regulus whispered as they went to her bedroom, "He might be a bit nicer."
"It's in your room," Charlie's voice was high and quiet, "I saw it near your bed, I think."
In Regulus's room, the stocky wizard sat at his bed and bent forward to reach underneath his bed skirt, his fingers brushing the empty floor.
Nine minutes.
Charlie watched him sigh with frustration and lean back, "I think I honestly left it at Malfoy's. He's been helping me with the diagraming. I wanted to give you a break from him."
Her hand decided for her and reached behind her to push close the door.
"Are you alright?"
She licked her lip as she stepped forward, the sweet tang of tangerine crème on her tongue as she felt the sourness of her stomach rising in her throat. Her hands shook as they reached forward and took his face between them, and she pressed her lips against his cautiously.
For a moment, the wizard stiffened. His body went taught as she climbed forward onto his lap, the skirt of her dress rising to her knees, before his hands caught her, his palms sweaty and rough against her hips.
"Charlie," he breathed as she leaned back to catch his wide pewter eyes, "What are you doing?"
She leaned forward again, and his stiff body relaxed between her hands, his lips moved against hers for only a moment before she pulled away. Regulus' dark silver eyes darted to the closed door, his chest heaving, before they turned back to her own. They burned against her irises, swallowing her in pewter.
"Is this really what you want?" His voice was strained, his hands tight where they had landed on her straddling thighs. Her eyes burned as she buried her face against his throat, trembling, "Do you really want me?"
Regulus pulled her face from its haven at his throat and watched her eyes.
Charlie nodded.
The dark eyed wizard licked his lip and softly swore before he roughly kissed her.
His hands felt like fire as they pulled her taught against him, her chest pressed against his own as his mouth worked. When his tongue swept her bottom lip, she let him in as her eyes burned beneath squeezed eyelids.
When he broke away, his hands scorched their way to the straps of her silky dress, "Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured as his lips descended to her throat.
But Charlie didn't want him to stop.
They had seven minutes.
The straps fell from her shoulders and the dress slithered around her waist. He brushed the black lace of the lingerie Louisa had brought her from France, his lips catching the swell of her breasts.
"Don't stop," she whispered against his hair, breathing in the thick scent of his cologne.
Regulus wound an arm around her, pulling their pelvises closer as his free hand expertly plucked the hooks of her. She could feel him between her legs – the tautness growing against his trousers and felt a bolt go through her. Her eyes widened in horror as her body moved of its own accord, straining against the slow pull of Regulus's hands as they pulled the lace away from her to leave her bare chest heaving in gasping breaths.
"Merlin, you're beautiful," He murmured as his head dipped and his lips pressed a kiss to her breast.
Her belly fluttered as his hips lifted to grind against her, a thrilling, foreign feeling.
She wanted it to stop, and didn't, all at once.
A soft noise left her mouth as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, his arm digging into her back as he shifted. His hot mouth leaving her flesh left her trembling as she found herself on her back against his sheets. Her legs shook as he leaned back, resting on his knees to pull away his tie and unbutton his shirt.
"You can tell me to stop," his voice was a soft whisper, "And I'll stop."
She shook her head as the shirt slipped from his shoulders and his hands descended to his belt.
When the button of his pants had come undone, he leaned back to her, his mouth finding its purchase on her neglected breast. His hand slithered up her leg, brushing the inside of her thighs.
This wasn't like how Sirius had bedded her.
He had been clumsy from the firewhiskey. He hadn't touched her in the way Regulus ran his fingertips up the inside of her thigh and made the dampness grow between her legs. He had never pressed his fingers against that dampness and moaned against her breasts, and his teeth had never tightened around her nipple with the noise.
Sirius was, as Louisa had called him, an end-game seeker.
I know Reg's got the experience the way my brother boasts about his conquests.
Charlie couldn't remember how much time had passed as his fingers hooked around the elastic of her panties and pulled them down with the confidence only gained in practice. Regulus's mouth abandoned its conquest, and moved to throat, his lips moving slowly as his fingers edged forward.
A shock ran through her stomach as his fingers moved, and Charlie had never heard the noise that escaped her come from her own lips. She whimpered and whined as his fingers moved, and she could feel his lips pull back in a smile as her hips lifted to find more friction. A tension built between his fingers and her core, and she found she didn't mind how much time had passed.
This was certainly damning enough. But she wanted more.
Her mind reeled against her body as her hips desperately lifted and shifted.
This was Regulus, not Sirius, she chanted in her mind. Sirius would hate her for this. He would never forgive her for it. But he had never made her move like this. He'd never created lightning in her belly and an ache that built and built.
"Reg, please," she whimpered as he pulled away.
Whether it was for Walburga or her own benefit, she didn't know anymore.
"Come here, baby girl," he called and pulled her up, shifting her around until she sat on his thighs, "This will feel better for you," voice breathless.
Regulus reached for the edge of his trousers, his damp fingers hooking around his boxers.
Charlie didn't want to look at it.
It felt wrong. Her eyes watched his heavy-lidded ones as the fluttering in her stomach grew.
"I don't know how to do this," she whispered, her cheeks coloring.
"It's okay, come here. I have you."
His hands lifted her hips and moved them forward until she hovered over him on her knees, and the ache between her legs grew.
"It's okay," he whispered, "Do you want to stop?"
Charlie shook her head, and his hands roughly pulled her down.
A loud moan left his mouth as his eyes shut, and her own filled the air against his. For just a moment, she felt his length stretch her. His breaths were soft gasps, his chest rising and falling with quick pants. For a moment, she didn't want Walburga to walk down the corridor. She wanted to see what happened if the tension grew further, what happened when the ache burst.
Regulus's hands tightened around her hips and he moved her forward until her hips had caught a rhythm. Her hands grabbed his shoulders, feeling the muscles at his neck grow taut.
"Reg," she whimpered as he moved, and the bursts of shocks grew, "Reg, something's-."
It felt too good, even if it was terribly wrong.
"Let it go, baby girl," he moaned softly at her throat, his hot breath tickling her ear, "Don't fight it."
She could hear Walburga in the hallway now, her heel-clicks growing slower.
Regulus swore as his hips rose faster, and his hand darted between their legs.
"Reg," Charlie cried as his fingers found purchase.
The tension was building rapidly, her breaths nothing but whimpering cries.
"Come for me," he whispered against her throat, "Just for me, Charlie."
Her fingernails dug into his flesh, pressing crescent-shaped marks to his skin.
"It seems Charlotte has overindulged in her wine, Antonin. I'm afraid she'll be indisposed for the evening. Regulus is helping her clean up in the washroom," she heard Walburga loudly call down the corridor, "Let's see whether Orion can spare you a cigar."
It was a slow release, building to a sharp point. The edge of it crept over her as his fingers drew torturous circles against her. She sucked in a sharp breath as she felt herself tighten around him and he pulled her face to his to roughly capture the cry that left her mouth with his lips. His mouth bruised hers as his hips thrusted harder, bringing a wave over her that sent thrills to her toes.
This was the fuss Willie and Lou had made, she realized as Regulus pushed her further over the edge until her eyes squeezed shut. Reg groaned a curse moments later, his hips moving to a slow roll, each movement sent zaps of electricity to her bones and a painful, sharp throb between her legs.
When he stilled, he panted hot breaths between her breasts, his lips brushing over her milky skin.
"Did she hear us?"
Charlie nodded, her cheek resting against his hair, her body shaking in his arms.
A sudden, breathy laugh escaped his mouth, "You're not a virgin."
Her cheeks colored at his chuckling, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Regulus pressed his lips to the top of her damp breast above a dark, wine-colored mark, "You've never had an orgasm? Don't all the Slytherin girls exchange Witch Weekly articles up there in the dorms?"
Charlie smacked his shoulder with a boneless hand.
"No," she answered finally, her breaths growing even, "Not anything like that."
She felt his smirk against her skin.
They remained still for several moments, catching their breath, and listening to Orion and Viktor laugh over scotch, and their noses filled with the odors of elven cigars.
Regulus pulled away from her, and she felt his softening length pull out and stickiness grow between her legs. She watched him pull his boxers and trousers over his hips and her cheeks colored to catch the marks stretching lines across his shoulders.
"Do you want me to go?"
His pewter eyes met hers, his face incredulous, "Go where?"
"Back to my room?"
Sirius had liked to shower after, she remembered. He didn't like the feel of their sweat-slicked skin sticking against one another. He'd slept with his back to her, as Charlie had chewed on her fingernails and willed the pain between her legs to go away.
Regulus barked a laugh, moving forward to climb quickly across the bed and scoop her into his arms.
"No, silly girl. Mother won't care if you stay in here with me. At least until they leave," he pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Unless you don't want to?"
Charlie shook her head.
Dolohov was still there.
His hands pulled the straps of her bra up and rearranged her dress, his fingers lingering over the wings of her collarbone.
"I'm sorry," she whispered over the laughter downstairs.
"What for?"
Regulus's fingers were rearranging her hair. It had loosened in their haste to spill over her shoulders in dark waves.
"She's going to make you keep me now," Charlie mumbled, "And you'll be stuck with me."
"Such a terrible thing, really."
"You're not going to get to be with someone you love, Regulus. That is a terrible thing."
She felt him stiffen behind her.
Perhaps he had just now realized the finality of their actions. Knots built in her stomach to replace the looseness that had filled her. Tension appeared behind her once relaxed brow.
Walburga would see to it that he followed this deed through. Maybe she should've stopped him.
It was a terrible thing, she knew, to never be with someone you loved.
After all, now she would never be with Sirius.
He'd hate her for all of it.
"I love you, Charlie. I've told you that a hundred times and still-!"
"Someone you actually love, Reg. We've grown up together. Don't you want to fall in love with some witch and chase after her? Have a family with her?"
"Do you even realize how ridiculous you sound-?" his eyes were widening.
"You're going to be stuck married to me, and I've made you do it. I've ruined everything."
His hands loosened on her.
He was already regretting it all.
Maybe she should've just had the champagne. She could've asked Walburga for another and slept through it all. Dolohov would get sick of her eventually. He'd find a new rabbit to chase. Lou's father had been carrying on an affair with his secretary for years. Her mother didn't seem to care. Maybe she welcomed the freedom of his neglect.
"Charlie, how do you not even know?"
Regulus's hands reached to pinch the crook at his nose, his eyes squeezed shut.
"I would've done anything for you. Anything at all," his eyes opened, "This wasn't even on my list of what I'd do for you. I've loved you my whole life, Charlie. I'm not stuck with you. We get to go and live our lives now – for us."
He leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.
"We get to escape this house and we'll have our own home. You're saving me just as much as I'm saving you. I would do anything for you. This was the easiest choice I've ever made."
"You don't hate me?" she sniffed.
"I couldn't."
"Then it's okay?"
"It's more than okay, baby girl."
"I love you," she pressed her eyes close.
"I love you, too," he whispered against her hair.
When Charlie's eyes opened, they caught the watermarks in the ceiling. The smell of aftershave and soap filled her nose as she took deep, even breaths.
"The school year starts in a few days, Severus," a voice traveled to her ears, "What are we supposed to do with her? She's worse than she was at the start of all of it and she isn't going to take any help from the Order – not now."
She shifted beneath the covers and her breath flooded through her lungs as her skin screamed with the movement until it built and bubbled from her lips in a strangled noise.
Heat washed over her legs like an oven door opening over them, and her breaths shuddered in her lungs until coughs wracked her chest.
A pair of dark eyes appeared over hers, and cool hands reached to touch her face.
"Charlotte, it's okay," Severus murmured, "I have you."
It's okay, come here. I have you.
Tears built in her eyes until they swelled over her eyelids and burned trails down her cheeks.
"What's wrong? Did the potion wear off?"
Severus was peeling back the bed sheets as a sob broke through her teeth.
"Where does it hurt, Charlotte?"
Her hands clutched her chest as the sobs turned to wails.
"Tell me where!"
His voice was growing strained as he climbed into the bed alongside her and pulled her against him.
She'd done it to Severus, too, she realized.
He was stuck with her now, like Regulus had been.
But the choice perhaps hadn't been so easy for him. They hadn't grown up together under the tempered stare of Walburga Black, forged together by her venom. He didn't have any reason to stay, like Regulus had. She offered him no salvation or benefit, aside from his pride and a grudge forged years ago. There would be nothing keeping him there.
She'd be alone, now.
Regulus had died alone.
Charlie didn't want to. She wasn't ready.
Severus was prying her arms from her chest, his jaw clenched. His fingers inspected the shiny, white flesh over her breast, his lips tight against his teeth.
No one else would ever want her.
She was broken, needy, desperate.
A Slytherin Beauty.
She was littered with scars now. They marked her flesh and pressed against her mind.
Severus would need a reason to stay.
He needed a reason good enough to put up with her.
There had to be a benefit to the burden.
"Please don't send me away," she whimpered as her arms went around his neck.
Her voice left her mouth in gravelly syllables as Severus pulled her closer, his hands soft against her burning skin.
"I'm not going to send you away, Charlotte, that's completely ridiculous-!"
"I missed you," she sobbed against his neck, "You left me alone."
Severus stiffened under her choked cries.
"I'll get better, okay? I promise. I'll try harder," her voice left her in desperate cries, "Please don't go."
His hands reached to pull her arms away from his neck.
"You need to go back to bed, Charlotte. It's only been a few days and you need to rest up. Louisa is coming shortly to change your bandages again, and we can talk again after that. I need you to go back to sleep."
Her amber eyes poured into his dark ones.
"I'm sorry I left you," her voice sounded pitiful.
"I'm not going anywhere, Charlotte. You're in my bed, at home. I'll be here when you wake up."
She'd gotten better at Legilimency.
She'd practiced every day.
She doubted he'd be bold enough to call her on it, even if he read her lie.
"Stay until I fall asleep," she sniffed.
Severus sighed, and laid back against the pillows.
She waited until her breaths evened.
He'd be too hopeful, she thought. The way she had been.
"I love you."
The words slipped from her mouth as deliberately as she could murmur them.
His body stiffened.
Author's Note: Again, I apologize for the wait in this update. I thought planning a wedding during a pandemic would be simpler (I was very, very wrong) and getting married would be just as easy (it wasn't). Thank you all for your patience. I hope you enjoyed the EXTRA length of this chapter! It is my longest to date and certainly took the longest to get out. Thank you so much for making Snarlie hit over 600 reviews so far! I read every one of them, and have printed out my favorites as special motivation over my desk. Those little email alerts bring so much to my day, and I appreciate each and every one of you.
I'll be updating the House Cup later this week. An extra five points for every review that tells me what actor they think would have best played Regulus? I'll reveal my inspiration at our next update!