Ch 9: Letters and lies
Regulus needed to concentrate, but somehow no matter what he did he couldn't help thinking of the shy girl with strawberry blonde hair. Merlin, she was gorgeous. He'd replayed the afternoon they'd spent together in his mind probably a thousand times, the way the sunlight caught her clear blue eyes when she'd laughed at his snarky jokes, the way a rose blush had swept across her pale face when he'd grabbed her hand, and finally the way she'd looked at him like he was the only person in all of Diagon Alley. She was so perfect and so wrong all at once. Gorgeous, but just out of reach, which somehow made her all the more tempting. He raked a hand through his hair angrily. There was a splatter of ink droplets just after the last sentence he'd written. There he went again, getting utterly distracted when he needed, now more than ever, to focus. In one sharp motion, he tore the parchment in half, letting his frustration rule him for a moment. A few deep breathes later, he looked at the two halves regretfully. A simple charm would have cleared up the spilled ink, there was no need to go acting impulsively. In fact, that was the last thing he should do. Every move needed to be calculated now, a simple mistake could cost him untold amounts. Thinking clearly now, he repaired the parchment and cleared up the spilled ink with a few charms before finishing the lengthy letter. He skimmed over the parchment once more before signing his name and flourishing his wand quickly over it. The words danced around the page, rearranging themselves gracefully as he watched the encryption go to work scrambling the words he'd written into something entirely benign. As soon as the ink dried, he stuffed it into a thick and creamy white envelope, before sealing it with emerald green wax. He pressed the stamp carefully into the still soft wax, making sure to align it just so in the center. This was too important to be careless with any part. Sure, the letter seemed to be him just checking in with his cousin and letting him know he'd made it to Hogwarts. However, with the correct words spoken and your wand pointed at just the right spot, the message could be decrypted. He tucked the letter carefully into his robe and began making his way to the owlery.
Elsa signed her letter with a quick spidery signature and blew on it to dry the ink. Madame Thécaire wouldn't be expecting a letter so soon, but she needed to talk to someone about all the things that had happened in the school year so far. So, she'd slipped away on the class break to write it all down. It had all gone off the rails all too quickly, she was letting herself get involved. Something about being so far away from the House and back at Hogwarts combined with the odd boisterous nature of the boys, she was finding it hard to keep to herself like usual. She was starting to like being around them, starting to feel comfortable. It was dangerous.
As she trekked to the owlery, she fingered the sapphire hairpin. She'd taken to keeping it in her book bag since Madame had given it to her, something to remind her not everyone was in danger just by associating with her. She'd been visiting Madame Thécaire's bookstore since first year, and never once had the Lady of the House even taken notice. The old woman was the only person she could remember consistently confiding in, ever. Madame would probably tell her to accept the boys' advances. She could almost hear her kindly slightly French-accented voice as she climbed the owlery tower's stairs, 'Make friends my little mouse, what's the harm?' Oh Madame, if only you knew. An icy shudder ran down her spine as her thoughts touched up the room and the hard lessons, she'd had to endure to learn it was better that she remained alone. She could only bring pain to those she cared about. She was a freak, and it was time to stop ignoring that. Of course, that was easier said than done. Just as she came around the last curve of the spiral staircase, she realized the owlery wasn't empty. Instead, she caught sight of silky-smooth raven hair and she could have sworn her heart actually skipped a beat. God, she was a cliché.
She wanted to hide, to turn back and avoid him, but something about him drew her in. She knew better, she really did. But before she realized it, she was around the corner and in the owlery with him, surrounded by the musty smell of owls and sifting downy feathers. He jerked his head up at the intrusion, surprise and alarm warred over his features, before recognition hit and his face melted into a soft, welcoming smile.
"Elsa," she almost shuddered at the way he spoke her name as if it were a precious thing. How wrong could he be?
"Regulus," she nearly sighed in response and a witty greeting caught in her throat.
She wanted to joke and say something ridiculously cheesy and sarcastic, like 'fancy running into you here,' just something ridiculous to draw out a smile. But she couldn't catch her breath enough to speak more than his name. Her heart hammered in her chest as if trying to break through her rib cage as she met his gaze. His steel-grey eyes nearly swallowed her.
"You look well," he was noticeably stiffer than the last few times they'd run into each other, had he decided she wasn't worth his time after all, "Sending a letter?"
He nodded at the envelope in her hand and a sudden flush of awareness washed over her. She reoriented herself in the real world, where she stood ridiculously in an owlery with a letter, staring at him a little too intensely.
"Yeah, you?" she asked stupidly as she searched for Alfie among the school owls, her hands dug in her pockets for the treats she had brought for him.
"Same," he smirked lightly at the obvious question and held up his own envelope, "Writing to my cousin in Germany."
The lie slipped from him easily, seeing as he had rehearsed it his whole way there, just in case he ran into anyone. It also served to bring his attention back to the task at hand, instead of just standing there admiring how lovely she looked as the sunlight caught the dust motes and owl down floating about her. He let out a little whistle and a small midnight black owl flew quickly to him. His heart pounded in his ears, and he almost shook his head in disbelief. She was here, his beautiful distraction, live and in full color. Well, just her normal colors currently.
Then realizing she wasn't going to fill the silence that had blossomed around them, "Who are you writing to?"
He carefully kept his gaze on his task, as he fixed his letter to the owl and sent him off, knowing the bird knew the way without being told. With his duty finally fulfilled he barely held in a sigh of relief and turned to face her fully, finally welcoming the dangerous distraction. Her crystal blue eyes went wide, apparently finally realizing he had asked her a question.
"Just a friend in Diagon Alley," she squeaked, her hair already a perfect strawberry blonde. God, he loved how visible his effect was on her.
"A friend?" he raised an eyebrow suggestively at her, eliciting a small laugh and of course a deeper blush, "Do tell?"
"It's nothing like that," she corrected hurriedly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea, "Just a bookstore owner. I write to her while I'm at school seeing as I don't usually have too many other people to talk to."
"I can't believe someone as beautiful as you isn't swamped with attention," he commented absently and nodded towards the door, wordlessly asking her to walk with him.
"Very funny," her voice was soft and a bit hurt sounding. Her gaze was locked on the floor allowing some of her blue-tinged hair to shield her expression from him.
He felt like he'd been slapped. Of all the idiotic meaningless and hopelessly cliched things he could have said, he managed to choose the one phrase guaranteed to hurt her the most. He might as well have just called her a freak to her face.
"I didn't mean," he started, unsure how to apologize without making it worse, "I just- well… what I meant was uh-"
"It's fine," she murmured, still refusing to look up as she dug her fingernails into her palm, trying to keep any wavering from her voice, "I know my place. I should probably be going now."
He scoffed at that, "You're being ridiculous, I only meant-"
She finally looked up, cutting off his excuse as he found her deep blue eyes brimmed with unshed tears. He felt like the biggest dolt in the entire wizard world.
"I don't need you reminding me I'm a freak. It's not something I'm likely to forget," her voice was steely with resignation and distance.
"That's not what I…" he sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair before deciding to change tactics.
"Look, there's a garden in the courtyard by here and it's still pretty nice this time of year. Come walk with me for a bit," on impulse, he took her hand, sending glowing warmth up her arm again, "Let me prove I don't always have my foot in my mouth."
She couldn't help herself. His warmth soothed the icy bite of resignation that had overtaken her when he'd remind her of her place. She wanted to pretend just for a bit that she wasn't a freak, that she could just walk with him for a bit. A last look into his steely grey eyes was all it took to melt her defenses. She nodded silently and once again, she found herself following where he led, their hands comfortably clasped each other. He led her on a personalized tour of the sundial garden, talk flowing from him to bury the previous slight. Recounting humorous anecdotes or strange facts for each part of the garden, he finally brought them to rest by a small fountain completely hidden from the view of the corridor. She found conversation had begun to flow easily. Something about the giddy warmth he filled her with loosened her tongue and she found herself chatting with him as if she were any normal girl and not the Rosier freak talking to a perfect pureblood heir.
Somewhere amid their easy conversation, he paused and scrutinized her face.
"What?" she fidgeted uncomfortably under his intense gaze and her grey-blue eyes searched his.
"You have freckles," he reached a hand towards her cheek but stopped when she flinched, her eyes suddenly dark and wide. "Sorry, I just could have sworn you didn't have freckles before," he regarded her carefully, moving his hand slowly and deliberately to rest next to hers on the bench, so as not to startle her again.
She mastered herself, and managed to speak through the dissipating lump of panic in her chest, "Why? Not a fan of freckles?"
He laughed easily at her playful tone, "No, they suit you, they really do, I just don't know why I didn't notice before."
"Guess you should pay closer attention," she laughed easily in response, her grey eyes dancing with joy in a way he was sure he hadn't seen before.
They talked past the end of their class break and all through lunch, somehow neither noticing the time. Finally, a distant chiming interrupted them, alerting students it was time for classes again.
"Oh, I kept you through lunch," her eyes were wide with alarm.
He smiled easily, and carefully laid a comforting hand on hers, send a flush of warmth up her arm again, "Don't worry about it, I think my break was better spent here."
She found herself unable to look away from him and her dismissive reply caught in her throat. Had his face been that close to hers this whole time? Something drew her gaze lower to his perfect smile. His lips looked soft and inviting. A small laugh made her jerk her eyes back up to his. Inviting? Where was that coming from? It took everything she had not to go bright pink at the thought, she held it back to what she hoped was a demure strawberry blonde as she jerked her head back from his.
He watched, entranced, as a faint pink began to bleed into her hair again and barely resisted the urge to brush a stray strand out of her face, "Well, I better be off to Divination."
"Right," she squeaked, and lept up, "I have Charms."
She rushed off without another word. Too aware of how incredibly stupid she'd been to sit there like that, talking to him as if she were normal. On her walk to class, she found angry red crescents in the flesh of her palm, where she'd dug her nails in to keep from sounding teary in front of him when he'd brought up her friendless situation. Another reminder of her freakiness, why oh why had she thought sitting and chatting with him was a good idea?
The rest of her classes passed in a blur. She was normally studious seeing as there wasn't much else to do at school when you've intentionally made yourself an outcast. She knew she was being ridiculous, but all afternoon she found her thoughts never strayed far from a pair of steel grey eyes or wondering just how soft his li—er, hair… how soft his hair was. How had she landed herself in this perilous situation? Not only was she talking to people and becoming involved with the Gryffindor boys, but she was flirting with a Slytherin. She knew better, she really did, but something about the Black boys seemed to usurp all her reasoning and carefully crafted walls. She would have to work a little harder if she wanted to keep them at arm's length. But Regulus had noticed her freckles, she didn't know why that somehow forced a smile on her face every time she remembered it. Her thoughts were still on the careful look in his grey eyes when the final class let out and she made her way to the Great Hall for dinner.