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Chapter 10
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The little cottage she gets isn't as comely or large as what the Potter's have. It's a relatively simple place, two bedrooms, a bathroom, living/dining room and the kitchen. Still, it's got a nice big garden with an apple tree at the bottom and if it weren't for all the shit that's been thrown at her right now, then maybe Poppy'd have lived a quiet, happy life here.
"So, have you started a baby name list yet?"
Poppy hums at the question, wand pointed at the second-hand sofa she'd purchased from a muggle charity ship before she gives it a quick wave. Reparo works wonders, the delicate stitching reasserting itself across the fabric, the dullness that comes from years of use rapidly stripped back until it looks brand new.
With a frown, Poppy turns the rich green sofa into an earthy brown, matching the Hufflepuff yellow (the intensity of said colour toned right down) of her walls.
"Not yet. Did you know yellow is the most productive colour you can surround yourself with?" Poppy murmurs, summoning the large cushions they'd dumped in the hallway to the sofa. Those are charmed the same low-vibrancy yellow as the walls, the edging of their cases black and they match perfectly.
Hell, she just needs a great deal of plant-life and a bit more emphasis on the wooden features of her cottage and then she'll be right at home in the Hufflepuff common room.
"Your house pride is showing, Pop. So, can I give you some suggestions for names?"
Sometimes it seems like Lily is more excited about this baby than she is.
"Sure. But I've already decided flower names for a girl. Gotta keep tradition strong, you know?" It's also why she's been flicking through her old astronomy books.
Like it or not (and really, Poppy's not sure how she feels about it) her little bud's father is from the Black family. Which means star names, even if she's not sure if Regulus would acknowledge the child.
He might because, honestly, Poppy cannot picture him not taking the opportunity to fight with her over something/anything at all.
But the rest of the Black family… now she's got a pretty damn good feeling on where they stand on this. One only needs to look to Andromeda Tonks née Black to know for sure.
So, star names for a boy, but subtle as hell ones.
"How about Daisy?"
"I think Petunia has first dibs on that, given her last name now."
"Daisy Dursley… urgh, you're right."
"Of course I'm right, I was always better than you at English."
Lily snorts, pushing her in the arm and Poppy grins, levitating the 'new' sofa into prime position. The house is slowly coming along after this room it's just the bathroom that needs tidying up. That and the nursery, but that's a bridge Poppy'll cross at a later point the in time.
"Aster?"
"Nope, hate that," Poppy grumbles, nodding in approval when Lily finishes reshaping the coffee table to an acceptable width.
"Bluebell?"
"While the Bell nickname is cute, I don't like the full thing."
"Fleur?"
"Too French."
"Primrose?"
"Too proper."
Lily huffs, arms folding across her chest as she full out glares at her.
"Well it's a good thing you've got a few months till you pop that child out," Lily grumbles, looking distinctly disgruntled that she's had every last one of her suggestions shot down.
"You haven't suggested any boy names yet."
"I think it's gonna be a girl," Lily mumbles, eyeing Poppy's stomach speculatively.
The younger Evans straightens under the stare, one hand rising up to rest protectively atop her slowly expanding midriff.
"You do?"
"Yep. I'd love a little niece to spoil."
"Speaking of nieces to spoil, why isn't Potter bugging you for a kid yet?"
Because honestly, Poppy cannot see him leaving Lily alone over the matter. He must want kids, she can't imagine him allowing Harry into a world at war unless he'd desperately wanted him.
Her sister is blushing.
Eyebrow rising, Poppy abandons her attempts to build the bookshelf, instead scooting closer to her sister to poking at her flushing cheeks.
"I kinda haven't told him yet."
"You haven't? What, does he just think I'm getting fat?"
The fact Lily reddens even more proves that's exactly what Potter's been thinking and Poppy chortles in delight.
"He told me I should stop inviting you over for dinner so often! He thinks I'm fattening you up by giving you the biggest portion and he's jealous!"
Snickers dissolving into a full blown, belly-deep laughter, Poppy buries her face in her hands, completely unable to look at her sister.
"What a numpty! You should have married Remus."
"I've got enough brains for both me and James." On that, Poppy can agree.
They sit in a companionable silence for the next few minutes, Lily slowly adding decoration to the edging of her bookshelf as Poppy begins to store her more guest friendly books, the vast majority of which were heisted from the Room of Hidden Things.
Of course when Lily leaves, Poppy's gonna go about setting up a secret little room behind said bookcase. She has magic, small house or not, there's no way she's not going to have some form of secret room in here. Maybe even more than one. Pushing the last book into place, Poppy tilts her head back to stare at Lily.
"Hey…wanna see how many references we can get in before Potter clicks?" Her sister tries to frown disapprovingly, she really does. But there's a glimmer of mischief in her eyes that Poppy knows all too well from their childhood.
"You're on."
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"How goes your foray into premeditated murder, dear Nephew?"
Head hanging back over the arm of the chair, Regulus forcibly stills his body from squirming in place. This is his damn safehouse and if he wants to be laid out across the sofa he'll damn well lay out across the sofa. His parents aren't here to chide him for it and he highly doubts Cassiopeia will care all that much. As for her question-
"I have the bare bones of a plan."
Oh sure, right now he's kicking himself for not giving Ancient Runes every last inch of his attention (because then maybe he'd be able to pull this off right now instead of having to triple check everything with other books for reference) but Regulus is a fucking Black. If he lets a little thing like not having enough knowledge get in the way of his goals, then he should be blasted right off the family tapestry. Which, come to think about it-
"Aunt, did you deal with the family tapestry when faking my death?"
"What do you take me for, a fool? That was the first thing I altered," Cassiopeia scoffs, dropping a large black book atop the coffee table. It's far too small to be the fabled Black Book of Blackmail, but it's something Cassiopeia owns so it'll be interesting nonetheless.
"I've been looking for any roots of our Dark Lord weed," she states primly, flicking the cover back to showcase a long, long list of names. "This is every student who has attended Hogwarts during the 20th century so far, and this," there's a short wave of her wand and the book shrinks, until there's only a handful of pages left, "is the list of students attending wen the fabled Chamber of Secrets was said to be opened. Given what our Dark Lord is claiming-"
"He has to be one of them," Regulus rightly concludes, jolting into a seated position to better inspect the information Cassiopeia is offering. "It's not Hargrid." That's struck off right away; clearly the half-breed was the scapegoat for the whole incident. There's no way the heir would've been caught so easily. And as the Heir of Slytherin, then it can be assumed the Dark Lord was placed in Slytherin House, eliminating three quarters of the rest of the names.
"Someone ambitions, smart and charismatic," Cassiopeia mutters, each word accompanied by a flick of her wand, severing several names from the list in each sweep, until only a meagre five are left. "Excellent, now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go do some research on our top five." She grins, wicked and vicious and Regulus is left wondering why she'd come to bother him at all.
He's not even going to pretend he understands women, pureblood or otherwise.
It's not like he'd ever understood Evans either; that'd been part of the draw with her. She'd refused to break, to bend like a delicate rose in the face of such harsh wind. She really is a good example of her namesake, growing amidst so much war. Hell knows if she's not cut down Regulus'll probably end up seeing her everywhere.
That's what poppies do; they're even acknowledged as the first type of flower capable of growth in a patch of earth exposed to Fiendfyre. After a few years of course, but nevertheless, the first type of flower to grow. They're hardy plants and Evans' name is probably the only flowery eponym she'd suit.
Though muggles could hardly give her a name even remotely related to Fiendfyre.
Because that's what she is, in truth. A bewitched flame; everything she touches she just, consumes.
Fucking hell, she'd consumed him, encased him in all that heat and burning brilliance until she was all he could focus on in those painful moments in a one of thousands muggle home.
Scorching blue eyes that're seared into his brain, that stalk him in his sleep, voice the same haunting crackle of those wicked flames, just as distinctive as it is unforgettable.
Merlin damn it, he actually misses her.
Misses meetings in untraversed corridors, misses the tight press of thighs against sides, misses the challenging nip of teeth against lips. He misses that wicked little slip of a girl.
Regulus laughs, head dropping into his hands.
Damn that woman.
He shouldn't still be thinking about her but it's not like he'd been particularly close to anyone else, not the point where he'd miss them. Father and Mother had expressed the need to make connections in Slytherin House, but the whole lot of them had been too obsessed in their perceived superiority to even register Regulus slipping away for his dirty little secret.
Who knows what else they missed? No, he'd had no intellectual equal within his own house, none that he'd have bothered to gift with his time.
Snape was the only one who proved somewhat interesting, and when he wasn't trying to worm his greasy self into the good graces of the purebloods he so envied, he was busy lusting after the other Evans. Too wrapped up in the belief that just because he was the first male to show an ounce of kindness then he was entitled to something.
No, that's not how women work; they make no sense at all.
Regulus has never once extended a hint of kindness towards Evans (that one time he'd gotten her off not withstanding) but she'd kept coming back. She kept giving as good as she got.
And he respected her for it. There's no lying on that front.
Is this how the first pureblood fell? A disinterest in their surroundings, a mudblood that shone just a bit too brightly-
A breathy moan that could almost pass as an abbreviation of his name.
He's clearly been in isolation too long if he can dedicate so much time to the Quidditch pile-up that is his interactions with Evans; he needs to focus more, needs to destroy Voldemort so he can start piecing his life back together.
To find a way to make it whole within Evans somehow forcing her way in.
Shorter than usual, but hey ho
Thanks for reading,
Tsume
xxx