"Reg?!" she exclaimed, frowning at the face half-hidden in the dark office. "What are you doing here?"

Regulus, for the first time, was looking at her with a deer-in-headlight face. "Um," he said, apparently lost for words. He stared at her, as though she was the one who should know the answer to her question. Alex's frown grew deeper.

"What's that in your hand—" she stopped short. "Are you stealing something?" Alex associated many things with Regulus—Quidditch, far too immaculate essays, and poorly hidden fondness for chocolate—but stealing wasn't one of them. Regulus Arcturus Black didn't need to steal. He didn't have to. He could afford practically everything in life. Something that Alex still couldn't wrap her head around.

Her accusation seemed to shake Regulus out of his momentary freeze. "No," he said quickly, his hands immediately moving to go behind his back. He winced. Alex started, but he waved her question off, almost casually stepping out of the office with his hand still behind his back. Alex tried to peer around him, but somehow he managed to block her line of view.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked, his hand still behind his back. Alex blinked.

Regulus looked the same as ever—the same as the last time she'd seen him in the Common Room after Slughorn's party, but something was off. He was pale. Perhaps too pale. The shadows beneath his eyes seemed a little darker than usual, and there was something in his face—his lips seemed less firmly set, his eyes a little more uncertain.

"Long story," she said. "Madam Pomfrey wanted to run some tests on me again—"

"There you are!" Madam Pomfrey's sharp voice never failed to make her jumpy. "Right on time for once. The ruddy first-years thought it would be funny to spread news that a group of sixth-year students splinched themselves after illegal apparation..."

"I'll see you later," Regulus said quietly, but failed to escape Madam Pomfrey's radar.

"Mr. Black. How convenient. I had some things to run by you. Physical education for Quidditch players. Mostly standard safety regulations, but there is new information."

"Madam Pomfrey, I'm afraid that I'm in a rush at the moment—"

"Rubbish, this will only take a second." By this, Madam Pomfrey carelessly waved her hand at Alex, who watched Regulus with increasing suspicion. Regulus was standing straight and tall as usual, but that seemed to take far too much effort.

"Madam Pomfrey, I—" Regulus began to protest, but Madam Pomfrey stopped him by beginning to rattle off a list of regulations that the players were supposed to keep in mind, all the while sticking various syringes into Alex's arm. Alex listened silently, not sure where she was direct her gaze. She'd been looking forward to seeing Reg all winter, and when she finally saw him, the most prominent feeling in her feeling was awkwardness. Nervousness. They danced together—did that mean anything? Some people danced for fun and nothing else, and Regulus could have simply wished to enjoy the party. And Remus's words, that Reg liked her. Fantasized about her. The idea made her feel hopeful and more despondent at the same time. Hopeful that she wasn't the only person who could conceive of the idea that Regulus might feel something for her. But all she had to do was look at herself in the mirror, and the hopefulness would vanish. She wasn't pretty, she wasn't accomplished, she was clumsy, far too clueless, and—simply unlikable. She wasn't stupid, Alex supposed, and she did have her strong points, but there was nothing about her that would elicit adoration. She sighed, unaware of Madam Pomfrey's prattle around her head.

"Miss Wilson!"

She looked up abruptly, surprised.

"Yes?" she asked sheepishly.

Madam Pomfrey harrumphed. "Your listening skills clearly need improvement. I said that I told the Headmaster about the incident—he needed to be alerted about such objects entering the castle. He has asked me to defer further testing until actual symptoms of poisoning show. You do not have to come see me any longer." Madam Pomfrey did not seem very pleased with this development, and Alex tried to hide her relief.

"Alright then," she said, hopping off the bed. "Am I clear to go?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded stiffly, and Alex walked out of the Hospital Wing, Regulus silently following behind her.

"Why did you need to see her in the first place anyway?" Regulus asked. They were heading toward the dungeons—at least, Alex assumed that they were, as they made their way to the nearest staircase.

"Er—so I got this necklace this Christmas—Reg?" a loud tumble came from behind her and Alex whipped her head around, alarmed. Behind her Regulus was kneeling at the foot of the staircase, hanging precariously by the banister. His left hand was clutching his abdomen and his face was now beyond pale. She rushed to his side.

"Regulus, what's wrong?" she asked, trying not to panic. Panic would not get them anywhere.

"Injury," Regulus gasped. "Needed… medicine… Pomfrey's office." Alex grabbed his shoulders and tried to stand him up. Regulus lost his balance again and Alex's grip on his ribcage tightened, making him wince more pronouncedly.

"Sorry," she said. "We can go back to the Hospital Wing—"

"No," Regulus gasped with surprising strength. "People… can't… see. No one. No one, Alex." He looked straight into her eyes and Alex tried not to remain stable underneath the intensity of his gaze.

"All right," she said, trying to be soothing. "All right. Er—I think Moaning Myrtle's bathroom is just a floor down. Would that be too far away?" she asked, and Regulus shook his head. But his breath was shaky.

The way to the bathroom was an arduous one, made even harder by Regulus straightening to stand up every time someone passed by, which just worsened his condition. By the time they arrived at the deserted bathroom he was barely breathing.

"Sit," Alex said, pointing at a convenient bench near the fountain. "Robe off."

Regulus coughed. "I… ganno… it…"

"You can barely articulate. Give me the medicine and take your robe off." Alex's voice sounded strange, even to her. It was as if a third, objective observer had taken over to assess the situation and find a solution. Regulus apparently noted this change and decided not to argue. Alex scrubbed her hand clean with water and sat down in front of him to examine the would, hoping that his injury was nothing serious.

Unfortunately, it was.

"Reg," she said, her voice strained. "Just exactly how long did you have this wound untreated?"

A long, ugly red gash ran from his sternum to his left side, thick and vital, as if the injury had a life of its own. From what Alex could tell, it was not fresh; the skin near the injury had swollen and refused to come back down, and even though the wound had begun to set, it still glistened with blood. Alex carefully opened the tin can Regulus had managed to pocket and sniffed. A familiar smell of wintergreen that she remembered from her first visit to Hospital Wing the day after Halloween greeted her again.

"Not… long," Regulus winced when cold cloth met his skin.

"Relax," she said, trying to sound more certain about what she was doing than she felt. "Just water. I'm trying to clean the area around it." Regulus nodded weakly.

"Should I ask how you got it?" she asked almost conversationally as she rubbed a dollop of ointment between her fingers, trying to make it smoother. Regulus didn't answer.

"I thought Kreacher was knowledgable in all things household," Alex said dryly. Regulus winced again when the ointment made contact with his skin.

"He doesn't know," Regulus gasped.

"You mean you didn't tell him," she said flatly.

Regulus didn't answer.

"Reg—I—" Alex paused. She had an idea of how he may have gotten the wound, if she believed all the rumors that flew around about the Black family. She didn't want to believe them, and Regulus never said anything about any of those rumors. In fact, he had always been reticent about his family. But that silence made her more concerned now than any excuse would have.

"Just how many scars do you have, Reg?" she asked quietly. "I've seen five, so far." Regulus didn't reply.

"I don't want to pry—"

"Then don't," the words were said so sharply that Alex had to look up from her position. Their eyes met and Regulus looked away.

"Sorry," he muttered, but didn't elaborate. Alex looked down and continued to dab ointment carefully on the gash.

"I ran out of first-aid ointments some time ago," Regulus said after a while. "I didn't want to ask Kreacher to go out and get some. Questions. And I was under house arrest."

Alex turned to the bit of gauze that Regulus had apparently managed to grab in his surprise. "Sirius left again?" she asked.

"Yup," the p popped and rang through the empty bathroom. Alex sighed.

This provoked Regulus than anything else—or so it seemed from what followed.

"It's not always because of that," Regulus said quickly. "It's unpredictable. I mean, there are triggers, but—she doesn't mean it, she really doesn't."

"Regulus, what exactly doesn't she mean?" Alex looked sadly at her friend's face, and thought that she spied signs of guilt there, as though it was his fault that he got injured. He looked away, apparently unwilling to say any more. Alex turned back to the gauze.

"How much do you know about my family?"

Alex looked up, surprised at the question, but Regulus was still looking at somewhere else. She turned her attention back to the task, also looking at somewhere else.

"Not much," she said. "The Black family has been around for a while. That's all I know, basically."

"A long time," Regulus repeated quietly. "You're right. Since the late Middle Ages at latest. And another thing that my family is famous for is—intermarrying. Between relatives."

Alex considered. "Okay," she said.

"To keep the line pure, I mean."

"I gathered."

"Some families are more flexible," Regulus said. "Rowles, for instance—they only observe up to the fourth generation. If the parents, grandparents and great-grandparents were purebloods, they're fine with whoever they want. We go a bit higher. And—well—the consequence of that was that my ancestors didn't really trust anyone else's bloodline except their own. So—intermarrying it was."

Alex merely cut the tape into precise lengths but didn't answer.

"It turns out that intermarrying doesn't really have a whole lot of benefits besides being able to tell your ancestry with certainty," Regulus said after a while. "You might have heard of some of the lesser preferable characteristics—erm. Physical weakness. Prone to illness." Regulus coughed. "Mental instability."

"Reg—"

"My mother," he said. "What they whisper behind our backs—it's true. Surely you must've heard about it." He gave her a look that dared her to say otherwise and Alex hated the fact that Regulus assumed she would react like the rest.

"I have," she said frankly. "I didn't catch the full meaning. They were all in passing."

"Well," Regulus muttered darkly. "Being wealthier than others have its perks, I suppose."

Alex didn't answer.

"Episodes, I believe they're politely referred to," Regulus went on. "In dinner talk. If the subject comes up at all. Ma—maniac episodes. My mom's literally mad, Alex. Sirius sometimes go around talking about how insane our parents' ideas are, but the truth is—she's quite acutely and actually mad." He was looking down at her with a searching look in his eyes and Alex didn't know what he was looking for.

"I'm sorry," she said the only thing that she knew how to say.

Regulus looked away. "Some people think it's inherited," he said quietly. "Jumps every generation, my uncle Alphard likes to say. It can't be true—uncle Cygnus and Alphard are quite lucid. But it does occur with increasing frequency. Bellatrix, even though no one would say it to her face. Aunt Lucretia." He swallowed. "Who knows. I might be next." Regulus smiled jokingly at her, but his voice cracked at the last word and Alex unconsciously took his hand.

"You won't," she said firmly. "You're not mad. You're the most grounded person I know."

"Not," Regulus said wryly, "for the lack of trying. I can't afford to lose control."

"Reg—" she hesitated, wondering if there ever was a correct way to talk about this. "Has your mother seen—healers? I don't know much about wizard medicine, but—"

"Can't afford to," Regulus sighed. Alex looked uncomprehendingly at him and for some reason Regulus grinned.

"Ah, well, you might not understand," he said. "Sometimes I thank Merlin that you don't. Otherwise you might run away from me." Alex opened her mouth to protest but Regulus merely shook his head.

"It's quite simple, actually," he said. "Many people watch my family with great interest. If they heard that my mother saw a Healer, they would force the reason out of the Healer in a heartbeat."

"Force?"

"Well," Regulus said. "The healer would have naturally signed a nondisclosure agreement, of course."

"Of course." Alex repeated faintly.

"Solicitors, mostly. From people in our family circle. The closest one are always the first one to strike." The phrase sounded like something that he had heard often.

"What do you mean—"

"There's a nifty bit of fortune tied to my mother's name," Regulus said drily. "Not to mention ventures, investments, patents. Most of them were inherited, of course, and it's been a long time since my mother has overseen any of them. Anyone who has any relationship tied to my mother would approach—and that's just the beginning."

"I—" Alex hesitated again. "I'm sorry." She sounded like a broken record and she desperately wished that she knew what to say, but she feared that everything she could say would make things worse. Instead, she squeezed his hand again. Regulus looked away.

"And your wound—"

"Ah. Most of the times she's… in almost perfect control of her faculties. Most of the time. It's just that sometimes… she slips up. And… it's a bit like being a child wizard again, I suppose." Regulus rubbed the space between his brows, apparently deep in thought. "I've tried to read up on it, but the studies done on wizard madness has always been biased. As children, we have no control over our magic, and it is a bit like that—but the difference is, an adult wizard is capable of much wider array of magic, and when she gets… a bit like that she has no control over all the possibilities she can choose from. Most of the times it's not—it's not injurious. Just a few days ago she made the entire tea tray float like clouds. Wingardium leviosa." Regulus tried to smile at her as though it was nothing, but Alex could feel how her face had hardened. She tried to smooth it, but she didn't have the restraint that Regulus had.

"And when it's not you get injured," Alex said flatly.

Regulus hesitated. "Yes," he said at last.

"Like this," she said.

"Like this."

"This bad?"

Again hesitation. "Sometimes better, sometimes worse," he said quietly.

"Reg—"

"Don't," he said.

"But—"

"Don't look at me like that," he said.

Alex felt like her heart was breaking. "Like what?" she asked.

"Like you pity me," Regulus answered, as though it was the dirtiest word in the world. "Don't."

"Reg, I—" she struggled. "You've seen what my life was like back home. Did you pity me then?"

He sighed. "No," he said.

"And neither do I," Alex said gently. Regulus sighed again.

"But I was angry," he said dryly. "And irritated. And worried. You don't need to be worried or angry for me."

"Of course I'll be worried," Alex said exasperatedly. "You almost fainted today because of your injury. At least get it properly treated."

"And explain that how, may I ask?" he was looking at her with an amused look that made her even sadder than anything else. "I can't let the word get out that Walburga Black is so far gone as to inflict magic on her own children."

"And—your dad? Can't he—can't he help?" Alex asked tentatively. Regulus talked even less about his father than about his mother.

"He's not around, much," he muttered. "Nobody enjoys having an insane wife, apparently." Alex knew that the flippant tone was just a disguise—a disguise that allowed him to even talk about this. It was the only way he could. Alex tried not to look too concerned, knowing that Regulus wouldn't like it, but—how was she supposed to be nonchalant about this?

"Does he know?" she asked quietly.

Regulus sighed. "He's the only one in the house who can… hold her down until it passes. When he's not there, it's up to me—she ends up harming herself more than anyone else, so I have to be there."

"And he's not there often."

Regulus gave her a wry look. "Remember the Ninth Cygnus and his mistresses?" he asked suddenly. Alex nodded.

"Let's just say that Black men are assured of two things: unsatisfactory wives and temporary mistresses." Regulus laughed humorlessly. "I certainly look forward to them."

"Reg, it doesn't—it doesn't have to be that way." Alex said quietly. "And you know it doesn't have to be that way." Regulus was looking at her in a strange way, and she looked away, feeling oddly flustered.

"No," he said slowly. "I suppose it doesn't always have to be that way." A small silence ensued. Alex toyed with a bit of leftover strip of bandage.

"Does—does Sirius know?" she asked eventually. Regulus scoffed.

"Why else do you think he always goes away?" Regulus asked, not without bitterness. "That prat. That actually makes her conditions worse."

"So he's just leaving you there in your house?" Alex asked, outraged. Yes, she knew Sirius Black wasn't the most responsible student, and yes, she knew that he paid little attention to anything besides his own and his friends' happiness, but this—

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded. "We've known each other for—for almost four years—"

"And how," Regulus said dryly, "should I have started the conversation? Oh, good afternoon, Alex, how's the Charms essay going—by the way, my mom's a tiny bit mad."

"Reg," Alex said reproachfully, but was no strength behind that reproach.

"Or—corking good to see you, Alex. Have you read any interesting articles on madness lately?"

"Reg," Alex sighed.

"It's just—" Regulus paused, hesitating.

"She doesn't mean to," he finally said, all traces of sarcasm gone from his voice. Alex found him looking earnestly at her, almost pleading, as though begging her to understand. "She really doesn't. She can't control herself. She—she loves us. Both of us. She really does."

"Reg—" Alex sighed. "You're her son. And parents aren't—"

"Precisely," Regulus said. "I'm her son. I'm the only thing she has left, Alex." He was still looking earnestly at her and Alex wished that he would stop being so sincere about everything, because it made telling him what she thought much harder.

"All she has is me," Regulus repeated. "I can't let her down."

Alex debated. Would there be—no, there would be no use in arguing. He didn't need arguing right now. Alex didn't think he needed any logic, despite all the logic that he employed to do what he was supposed to do. What was expected of him to do.

"Well," she said, clearing her throat awkwardly. "And you have me, I suppose."

A strange light came into Regulus' eyes but he didn't say anything.

"You're not alone. So—stop leaving these wounds untreated and—owl me, or something. I'll try to—I don't know, send you medicine, or do anything I can, and—" whatever she was going to say next never made it to her lips. Regulus pulled her toward him, hard, and her words stopped short as her face made contact with his bandaged chest. Alex swallowed.

"Enough," he said softly. "That's—that's enough." His arms were tightly wound around her shoulders, pressing her to him, and his face was buried in her hair. Her heartbeat accelerated so quickly that she thought her heart couldn't bear it. Regulus smelled like—like blood and wintergreen ointment and—clean. Warm.

Remus' words came to her again for the thousandth time, and Alex finally realized that they didn't matter. So maybe Regulus thought about her in that way once or twice and found it too awkward to talk to her afterwards. That's not who he was—that was not who they were. This mattered much more. What they had. And she couldn't ruin it by—by being worried about how he felt about her, or—or how she felt about him. To do that would be a waste of what they already had. Alex swallowed with some difficulty. It hurt already, to think about it…

"Y'know," she said casually, her voice still muffled. "I think I have the perfect thing for the occasion."

Alex could hear his eyebrow raise and smiled despite herself. "Oh?" Regulus asked simply.

"Yup." Alex said. "Macarons. Mom sent them for Christmas. They really are divine."

"Alex—" Regulus began to protest, but Alex could hear the smile in his voice.

"Come on," she said, standing up and pulling him along with her. "Let's go to dinner. Wouldn't want to spoil our appetite. Then I'll bring the macarons."

Regulus stared silently at her for a few seconds. Then, he began to silently put on his robe and straighten the garment. He looked up from his position.

"Shall we?" he asked, holding out his hand. Alex took it, grinning.

Dinner turned out to be a somewhat awkward business, although Alex wasn't exactly sure how it turned out to be what it was.

It began, unfortunately, with Rebecca.

It appeared that the poor fourth-year had attempted to contact Regulus several times over the holiday, and had even attempted to engage him in a conversation during the train ride. Regulus, at that time, had been still reeling from the injury and managed to fall asleep from exhaustion, and no one dared to wake him up. His sudden disappearance after the train ride made Rebecca naturally anxious and when he finally came back—lo and behold—it was, of course, with Alex. Who else. Alex tried not to fidget nervously as they sat down on the dinner table. Leila smirked across from her, her hand toying carelessly with Rosier's fingers.

"How was your break, Alex?" she asked. "Eventful?"

Alex gave her a look. Regulus seemed almost unaware of his surroundings and began to pile food on his plate automatically.

"Regulus!" Rebecca's high-pitched voice told them exactly how stressed she was. "It's been a while. How have you been?"

Regulus looked up from his plate, almost as if he were coming out of a reverie. Alex frowned—was he in shock from the wound? He seemed lucid enough ten minutes ago… "Oh," he said. "Hello, Rebecca. How have you been?"

Rebecca was staring back at him almost disbelievingly. And, if Alex was being honest, she was a little sympathetic toward her. He broke up with her less than three weeks ago and the first thing he tells her after meeting her is—how have you been? Across from them Leila raised his eyebrow again, now looking at Alex questioningly. Alex looked helplessly back at her, clueless. Unfortunately, Rebecca seemed to be more aware of how she was feeling.

"Regulus," she said, getting to the point. "I miss you."

Almost half the table went silent at this declaration. A girl making this kind of statement in public was almost unheard of in the Slytherin house—maybe in Gryffindor, where everyone was declaring their feelings left and right. But not in the Slytherin house. Everyone looked uneasily at each other. Leila let go of Rosier's hand and focused on an ambiguous spot far away. Alex looked uneasily at her fork. Next to her Regulus shifted uneasily.

"Er," he said. "Rebecca—"

It was at this point that someone decided to interrupt the conversation. The person, however, was someone that no one had expected.

"Alex," a voice came from behind them, sounding extremely uncomfortable and out-of-place. "Could we talk?"

Alex turned around at the unfamiliar voice. A face was looking down at her, expression as uncomfortable as the voice. Her throat constricted momentarily and she did everything she could not to frown at the boy.

"Ben," she said. "Hello."

"Wilson," Regulus said, sounding somewhat relieved and even more suspicious at the same time. "You've no business here."

Ben's eyes narrowed. "I could say the same to you, Black," he said, hostility clear in his voice. "This is family business."

"Family business?" Alex repeated, trying not to sound incredulous. Ben Wilson, her supposed cousin, had ignored her for the last four years since their first encounter at King's Cross Station. He had, never during their time at Hogwarts, approached her to ask her about how she was doing or how school was going. And, after a while, Alex stopped expecting him to. She didn't know about him or uncle Charles or her grandparents, but she understood enough to see that as far as they were concerned, she and her mother were unwelcome. She felt a surge of anger rise inside of her.

Before she could express it, however, Rebecca was already fuming from across the table.

"I was talking to you," she said petulantly to Regulus, whose attention had been focused on Ben.

Regulus did not look particularly apologetic. "Sorry, Rebecca," he said. "It's just that Wilson here—"

"I'm not talking to you," Ben said sharply. "I'm here to talk to Alex."

"I don't think so," Regulus said.

"Really, I can speak for myself—" Alex began.

"Regulus, are you even listening to what I'm saying?" Rebecca's shrill voice broke through.

"This is clearly a madhouse, I'd rather talk to you outside the hall—" Ben said exasperatedly, but the word madhouse apparently did not bode well with Regulus, whose eyes turned to slits.

"Wilson," he said quietly. "You have no business here. This is your last—"

"Regulus Arcturus Black!" Rebecca's screech silenced half of the table. Even Ben looked at her with mild distaste, noticing her for the first time. Rebecca, in turn, seemed slightly thrown off by the sudden attention that she hadn't expected to receive.

"Why won't you look at me?" she said miserably. "All I've done is to look at you."

Regulus' eyes flitted uncertainly to Alex's direction before focusing on Rebecca again. "I—" he attempted to begin before pausing. "I'm sorry," he said at last. This, unfortunately, was not satisfying to Rebecca.

"Why can't it work?" she persisted. Regulus wrinkled his brows, clearly in discomfort. Alex watched with a mix of satisfaction and pity. Regulus should suffer for—for going out with Rebecca, and making Alex feel miserable, and—but he had never—

"This is all very touching," Ben muttered, "but I have to help the first-years just in case they've forgotten their passwords, or anything like that, and I can't stay long." Alex looked back at him reluctantly, trying to furtively catch some words from Regulus. Unfortunately, his voice was low and it was difficult to pay attention to him and Ben at the same time in the loud hall.

"Ben," she said. His name felt strange and unfamiliar on her lips. "I don't really know you at all."

"That's not my fault," his words sounded snappier than her question seemed to have merited and Alex flinched back. Ben ran his fingers through his hair, apparently frustrated.

"Look," he said, breathing through his nose. "Granddad's sick."

Alex blinked. "I didn't realize that our grandfather was even alive," she said.

Ben emitted another strong exhale. "Well, he is," he said emphatically. Alex blinked again.

"He needs your help. Well, your mom's help, probably," he continued quickly.

"Your aunt, you mean."

"Your mom," Ben repeated. "Granddad needs bone marrow transplant. My dad's wasn't a match. Neither was mine." He swallowed. "He hasn't got long."

"Write to my mom," Alex said automatically. She didn't know how she was supposed to react in this kind of situation, what she was supposed to say. A grandfather? She didn't have a grandfather? But now her grandfather was sick and needed their help. A grandfather that she's never even met.

"Don't you think we did?" Ben said. His voice was shrill. "She didn't write back. Clearly, she didn't want to have anything to do with us."

"Do you even know our address?" Alex said. Ben shot her a glare.

"Tell her," he muttered lowly, "that she's letting her father die when she could've helped." Alex swallowed, but didn't say anything. Her mind was a whirlpool of ideas and notions that she never allowed herself to examine. Then he left.

"You're horrible, Regulus Black!" Rebecca's hysterical voice broke through Alex's reverie. "You—you—I curse you!" Plates and cups clattered as she abruptly stood from her seat and bumped into the table. Too upset to wince, Rebecca primly tossed her hair to one side and stomped out of the Great Hall in evident rage and distress.

"Well," Leila's dry voice managed to carry itself across the din of the dinner table. "That's more drama than I was expecting." Next to Alex Regulus sighed.

"Hardly unexpected," he muttered, moodily arranging the silverware in front of him. He turned toward Alex. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly, then his eyes widened in alarm. "Merlin—are you crying?"

Alex wasn't aware of the fact that her eyes were wet, but she supposed that it would explain why the tip of her nose suddenly tingled unpleasantly. "No," she said, her voice shaking. She breathed in before focusing her eyes on a spot. The muscles around her eyes threatened to allow her tear ducts to open up. "Not at all. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go to bed." She stood up mutedly.

Regulus, it seemed, had also lost his appetite and stood up with her. "Is it what Rebecca said about us?" he asked as he followed her out into the hallway.

Alex frowned. "Rebecca said something about us?" she asked, her voice growing higher and higher with each word. Regulus looked contrite.

"Never mind," he said quickly. "Was it something Wilson said?" Alex shrugged.

"He's a prat," Regulus said immediately. Alex smiled despite herself at his silly effort.

"You haven't even spoken to him once," she pointed out.

"I know his type," he said dismissively. "Besides, the other prat likes him."

Alex smiled wanly. "Sirius?" she said. Regulus scoffed.

"Who else?" he said. "What did he say anyway?"

Alex shrugged. "Nothing much," she said. "Just that his grandfather was sick."

Regulus frowned. "Your grandfather?" Alex nodded.

"He said that he needed some kind of bone marrow transplant," she said. "I thought it was something that came up only in Muggle medical telly series. Apparently not."

"Well, there are some illness that require potions to contain uncontaminated samples from the relatives," Regulus said thoughtfully. "Borowick's plague. Hippogriff pox. Although that's rather rare." He noticed Alex's look. "Sorry," he said. Alex shook her head and they walked in silence for a while.

"This isn't the way to the common room," Alex said.

"Er—no. I wanted to show you something." Regulus said uneasily. "So Wilson said that your grandfather needed bone marrow transplant?"

"Apparently his and his father's weren't a match."

"So he's reaching out to you now." Alex nodded. Regulus sighed.

"Family is family," he said quietly.

"I don't know them," she said, hating the way she sounded petulant.

"Do we ever?"

"They've ignored me for the past fifteen years." To this Regulus didn't say anything.

"It's stupid," Alex said. "I don't even know what happened."

"Did your mother—did she ever tell you?"

"No," Alex said. "My guess is that they didn't like my dad."

"Because he was Slytherin."

Alex frowned at Regulus. "How did you know that?" she asked. Regulus smiled humorlessly.

"They're Wilsons. Altair Wymond was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Your mother doesn't particularly like me. It's not a very difficult deduction."

"The Wilsons, they're—" Alex hesitated. "They're purebloods. Yes?"

Regulus nodded.

"A bit like the Potters."

"Old family, a bit of money, bloodtraitors, yes." A short silence ensued.

"I've never even seen my dad."

"I know."

"For all you know, he might've been half decent."

"He was brilliant at Quidditch."

"Reg, they aren't the same thing," Alex said exasperatedly, but Regulus grinned widely at her from her side and she felt an unwilling smile spreading across her face.

"That reminds me," she said. "He sent something for Christmas." She hopped a few steps up to the Owlery, where the cool moonlight was shining clearly through the windows.

"See?" she took out her necklace from beneath her robes and Regulus took it in his hands, peering at it intently.

"Are these runes?" he asked.

"I think so," Alex answered. "I'm not sure. I spent some time in the library over the holidays, but so far I've had no luck."

"And your dad—"

"Put in a note. Sort of. It was unsigned, but it had the same handwriting—what?" Alex frowned at Regulus, who was still staring at the pendant.

"I think I've seen this before," he said slowly. Alex's eyes widened.

"What—where? How?"

"I can't remember," he said, sounding uncertain. "I'm not even sure if it's the same mark. This one's rather complicated." Alex sighed, trying not to look too deflated.

"I'll look it up," Regulus said placatingly. Alex nodded glumly.

"At least—it's a proof. You know," she swallowed. "That he knows. About me."

Regulus seemed to weigh his words carefully. "If it's from him," he said.

"If it's from him," she conceded. Regulus let go of the pendant and reached into his pocket.

"That's a bit of a shame," he said. "I had something similar in mind." Alex looked back at him in confusion.

"Merry belated Christmas," he said, holding something out in his hand, looking rather nervous. Alex felt something cool drop into her palm.

"Hold it in the moonlight," Regulus suggested. Alex did as she was told, and found a small globe dangling from a thin silver chain. Instead of deflecting the moonlight, however, its remained smooth and shadowless. The longer she held it in the air, the milkier it grew until it became completely opaque.

"Erm," she said.

"It's lapis lunae," Regulus said excitedly. "It absorbs moonlight and sort of—shines in the dark. See?" He covered the stone on her palm with both his hands and motioned at her to look at the stone in the dark. Alex did as instructed. Indeed, the stone was emitting a pale glow from the center of its core.

"I thought it was glass," Alex said weakly.

"It sort of looks like that when the moonlight runs out," Regulus said, watching her face carefully. His face fell. "You don't like it?" he said.

"What? No, no," Alex shook her head vehemently. "No, it's just—well—it's a bit too much, isn't it?" she asked weakly. Regulus frowned.

"Is it?" he asked.

"Reg, I sent you sweets. This—this must've cost quite a bit—"

"Not at all," he said quickly. "It's a family heirloom."

"Reg, I can't accept a family heirloom."

"Why not?" he asked. It is worth noting that at this point Alex was quite certain that Regulus had been standing in the cold for too long and that it had gone straight to his head.

"Because—because I'm not a Black," she said, trying to sound reasonable and gentle at the same time.

Regulus was looking back at her with a look in his eye and Alex felt her cheeks heat up despite the cold.

"I—"

"Hold on to it," Regulus said. "Just in case."

"I really can't—"

"Just in case." Regulus' voice was unusually firm.

"Reg, we're fifteen—I'm fifteen. You're fourteen."

"Not that I needed a reminder," Regulus muttered darkly. "In two years you'll be of age. In more or less three years—we'll be out of Hogwarts."

"A lot can change in three years," Alex said weakly. And you didn't make this kind of decisions when you were fifteen and—and when they haven't even done anything besides dance on one separate occasion and—this was far too fast.

"I don't want this to change," he said. Alex looked away.

"I don't know you," she said.

"You know me better than anyone else. Rebecca wasn't wrong when she said that—that I've never looked at her. That I didn't let her in. I couldn't." Regulus was now trying to get her to look at him in the eye and Alex didn't know why she found it so difficult all of the sudden.

"I—I thought you felt the same way. About me." Alex felt heat pool to her cheeks again.

"We never even talked about it." A small silence followed.

"I'm sorry," Regulus said quietly. "I didn't mean to presume. It seems that I've been operating under a wrong impression—"

"No," Alex said in alarm. Regulus looked at her in surprise, and Alex looked away, feeling shy again.

"It's not that—that I am, you know—" she looked helplessly at Regulus, but he didn't seem to have any inclination to supply her with words. "Completely indifferent," she said. "It's just—I never knew that—that you weren't—completely indifferent—to me and—you're my friend," she said. "I don't want to lose you as my friend."

Regulus smiled faintly. "This isn't a proposal, if that makes it better," he said. "It's more of a… promise of a promise of a proposal."

Alex had to laugh despite the situation. "Right," she said.

"Completely realistically speaking, I can't really do anything until Sirius marries properly. As the second son, I mean, I can't really do anything until the first son's settled. And knowing him, he's going to drag it out until the last minute possible. So you really have years and years to decide what you want. We could repeat this several times, if you want." Regulus said all this in one breath. Alex laughed soundlessly.

"I hope not," she said. "This is awkward as it is."

Regulus laughed. "Right," he said. "Do you want me to help you put it on?" Alex gave the necklace back to him and Regulus reached over her head to the back of her neck, where he let the intertwined clasp drop on her nape.

"There," his voice sounded softer, gentler, closer. "Is this okay?"

His face was mere inches away from her face and Alex swallowed painfully. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest and Alex wondered how it was that Regulus didn't hear it and laugh at the ridiculousness of it. The moonlight cast a shadow on the plane of his face and Alex could count the numbers of his eyelashes that flittered under her gaze. Was he nervous? But it seemed impossible that he should be nervous. His head tilted to her left and she found herself tilting her head to her right. The ghost of a smile came back on his face and Regulus was smiling down at her, drawing closer and closer to her—

A ball of feathers rained down before her eyes with a loud screech and Alex drew back in surprise. She looked around, perplexed, and found the said ball of feathers attacking the bag by her side with gusto. Regulus was a few steps away from her, swearing in a low voice.

"I swear," he said, "that bird has caused me more trouble than he's worth since I was eleven."

Alex found herself smiling despite everything. Relief and disappointment ran through her blood at the same time… "I think he's just perceptive," she said, gently scooping up the tiny owl and handing him over to Regulus. "He smelled this, I think."

"Macarons?" Regulus said in disbelief, staring outraged at the creamy white box that Alex took from her bag.

"You," Regulus said, giving Edge a firm and direct glare. "Need to stop. Eating. Sweets. It's not good for your health."

"Well, he takes after his owner, obviously," Alex said ironically, holding out a piece of the confection on her palm. "There you go, Edge," she said. "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

"Kept him waiting? I've spent the entire wint—" Whatever Regulus was going to say was blocked by a macaron promptly placed in his mouth. Regulus looked back at her with a mixture of surprise and outrage.

"You 'e'raye' 'e," he said, his mouth still open.

"I told you it was rather lovely, didn't I?" Alex said, grinning, and Regulus shook his head in amusement as Edge pecked cheerfully at the crumbs on her palm.