The Past Influenced

Regulus has a future set out for him. Now all he has to do is meet her.

Pairing: Hermione/Regulus
Rating: teen
Warnings: none
Tropes: Pre-Relationship, Time Travel, "Pureblood" Hermione, Arranged Marriage, Regulus Lives!, Orion Lives!, between Marauders Era and Lightning Era, Age Gap, Time Travel but POV character doesn't know
Words: 1,708
Original Release Date: 21 Feb 2020

Eight-year-old Regulus sat on his mother's stiff settee and pet the cat his Aunt Cassiopeia brought when she came to visit. Its fur was a shiny black and it had golden-green eyes that were, at the moment, half-closed as it purred loudly.

Across the room, his mother and Aunt Cassiopeia were discussing cousin Bellatrix. He wasn't paying much attention to them.

"...she wants to sign a contract. I'm not sure if this plan is all-together wise," his mother was saying.

"Why not? Lestrange is of good stock, albeit French, but that's two generations back now. There's nothing wrong with a tentative betrothal between them..." Cassiopeia said. "...are you worried a better offer will come along? It's not like she's asking..."

Regulus, not familiar with cats, did not see the signs of the cat's irritation. When the animal swiped at him with claws outstretched he jerked his hand away. Four thin lines of red welled up on the top of his hand. Despite Kreacher's quick work of mending the wounds, they scarred.

* . * . *

Regulus was nineteen when his mother went into a rage the evening of 1 September. It reminded him of when she'd been so terribly angry when Sirius had been sorted Gryffindor. He crept closer to the drawing room where she was casting blasting Charms at photographs and knickknacks and anything else that would shatter. Father was standing outside the drawing room door. Regulus wasn't sure if he had escaped the shrieking whirlwind of anger or come to investigate the noise.

"Why is she so upset?" Regulus ventured to ask.

"Bellatrix's daughter was sorted Gryffindor."

"What does that have to do with Mother?"

Orion raised his eyebrows at Regulus. "The girl is your betrothed."

"Oh, right. I forgot about that."

"You forgot about who your betrothed is or you forgot you had a betrothed?" Orion asked. He tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels.

Regulus knew it was a question meant to trip him up but that didn't help him in deciding which question was worse. He decided on honesty. "Forgot who I was betrothed to. It's not like I often think about a child I've met only a few times."

Orion nodded and glanced down at the floor at his feet. "That was partially my decision. I felt it would be awkward for you in your marriage if you were to have too many memories of her as a child." He sighed and looked back up to Regulus. "I wonder if I'd indulged your mother's wants to have you two interact more if you'd have influenced her to be Slytherin, as a Black should be."

Regulus felt his lips attempt to curl in a smirk and cleared his throat and looked away to hide it. "But she's not a Black. She's a Lestrange."

"Pedantic," his father dismissed.

"Is it, though?" Regulus didn't hide his grin this time.

* . * . *

Regulus had thought he'd be free of this betrothal-wedding nonsense until the girl was at least out of school but his mother insisted that he start courting her earlier. She had arranged for him to take Lestrange to Hogsmeade for her final Valentine's during her seventh year at Hogwarts.

He thought it was ridiculous and only agreed if he could meet the girl at some location in the village rather than start their date at the school gates. He was eight years the girl's senior, after all. Unfortunately, his mother had insisted on Madam Puttifoot's Tea Shop, so he there he sat on the sappiest day of the year, surrounded by pink hearts dangling from the ceiling, conjured clouds of sweets-scented pink mist (that he suspected had a short-lasting Inhibitions Decreaser as a potion base), and a diverse mix of teenage couples. Some were handsy, some snogging, others were gazing longingly at one another.

Regulus had already ordered tea as he waited in the dimly lit room. Despite the lighting, it wasn't difficult to spot Lestrange when she entered. She wore well-fitted crimson robes that brought the highlights of red out in her dark chocolate brown curls. Her heavy-lidded eyes were lined with kohl and her lips were painted a red a few shades darker than her clothes. But her appearance wasn't the only thing striking about her. There was a cold, calculating rage in her eyes as she scanned the room that had Regulus wondering for the first time what she thought about all of this betrothal madness.

When her attention landed on him, she strode to the table and sat. It when then that Regulus noticed the stubborn set to her clenched jaw. "Miss Lestrange?"

"Mr Black?" she retorted. "Who else could you be. I mean, a thirty-year-old wizard sitting alone in a teenage hotspot."

He winced. "I did not choose the place, I'm not thirty, and please, call me Regulus."

She nodded but did not give him leave to call her by her first name, though he knew it to be Hermione.

"Would you like to go somewhere else?" he asked, attempting to calm her anger.

"And have my friends see you? No, I don't think so."

"You obviously dressed to—"

"Mother insisted," she interrupted with a snap, though she did elaborate. "I was at least able to bypass the Jinx on the fabric to recolour it red."

A cloud of pink floated over the table. "You're stunning," Regulus said, without intention.

"You don't have to attempt to woo me, Regulus. We'll be married regardless." She caught a whiff of the cloud and coughed. Her nose wrinkled and she glanced towards the counter where Madam Puttifoot herself was smiling at her patrons. "An airborne inhibition decreaser? Really? Surely she knows she could be held liable if any of her patrons wind up pregnant."

"There are very strict gender-separating Charms on the toilets."

"Couples don't have to go to the bathroom to... misbehave." At her slight verbal stumble, she glanced down and a lovely pink dusted the top of her cheeks.

"Are you sure you don't want to leave? We could walk down to the Shrieking Shack, it's an unlikely destination today, I'd think."

She glanced around at all the couples and nodded. Regulus stood as she did, tossed a few coins on the table to pay for his tea, and gestured for her to proceed him out of the shop.

Hermione fastened her woollen cloak around her shoulders and covered her head as they exited the building. Regulus walked beside her with his hands in his pockets, both to keep them warm and to not touch her. The road was covered in a slushy mix of ice and melted snow but once they were off Centre Street, there was less ice, only crunch, thick snow under their shoes.

The end of the path was empty, as Regulus had anticipated, and he cast a Warm Air Charm around them. The snow beneath their feet started to melt. He looked her over out here and with the better lighting noticed things he hadn't before. Her eyes were a warm brown, not grey like his. What colour were Rodolphus's eyes? Rabastan's were green. She didn't have Bellarix's sharp cheekbones or jaw, either. Her face was softer, rounder.

She glanced up at him and caught him staring. The anger that he thought had disappeared had reignited.

"This is ridiculous, you know," he sighed and rocked back on his heels. He looked out to the Shack as he spoke so he wouldn't look at her. "I have no idea what to say to you. I'm sure you don't want to be doing any of this either. We've met and spoken, that should be enough to satisfy our mothers until..."

"That's just it," she said, sounding less angry, and perhaps a little nervous. Regulus looked back at her. "I've known about you my whole life but I don't know you. This is awkward, yes, but I'd like to get to know you a bit before the wedding. The idea of bedding a practical stranger isn't appealing in the slightest."

He hadn't thought of that. He briefly wondered if she'd experimented at all with any of her peers—if she'd ever dated anyone—but he wouldn't ask. "Okay," he said. He inhaled deeply and tried to think of something... "How did you get sorted Gryffindor? And what was Bella's reaction?"

"I was a near hatstall, almost got sorted Ravenclaw," she said. "And the Howler Mum sent the following day was epic. Went on for nearly four minutes without repeating herself once. By the end, most of my fellow first years had to have Calming Draughts administered."

"But not you?" he asked, wondering how much of her bravado was false.

She shook her head and her shoulders came up in a tiny shrug. "Mother shouts. That's just what she does."

"I remember seeing my mother's reaction to Sirius getting sorted Gryffindor. I promised myself I would ask the Hat for Slytherin because I didn't want her to yell at me like that." He gave her a self-deprecating grin. "I think Sirius had more fun."

She laughed unguardedly and Regulus felt a chuckle bubble up through his chest. The tension between them seemed to have lifted. "What do you want to do after school?" he asked.

"Study Arithmancy, I think. Using logic and reason to predict future events sounds... promising," she said. "And what is it you do?"

"Ministry work. Obliviations office mostly, though sometimes I've participated in Wizengamot hearings."

Hermione's tone was playful when she said, "That sounds rather boring."

"Nah, being an Obliviator isn't so bad. The Wizengamot stuff, though, yeah, it can get boring. Especially when the docket is full of Misuse of Magic Against Muggles cases."

Hermione's smile faded a little and she looked away from him.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

When she turned back to him her smile had returned.

"Hey Lestrange!" someone shouted from behind them.

Hermione ducked her head and pulled her hood up. "Shit," she muttered. "I've got to go," she glanced up at him and then in the direction of the shout. "Maybe you can owl me?" Without waiting for an answer she hurried back towards Hogsmeade.

As Regulus watched her leave, he thought maybe this wouldn't be too bad after all.