The rhythmic sound of knocking disrupted the quiet hum of Lyall's office. He looked up from the stack of papers on his desk, his eyes adjusting to the sudden interruption. "Come in," he called out, and the door swung open, revealing his daughter.
"Hello, Dad," she greeted him with a warmth that melted the stern lines of his face. A soft kiss on the cheek sealed the affectionate greeting.
"Mimi, I thought you were meeting Regulus today," Lyall said, acknowledging her presence as he gestured toward a seat in front of his desk.
Lyall did know about his daughter's friendship with Orion and Walburga Black's youngest son and surprisingly, he was fine with it. He himself was a pureblood and knew how powerful and influential the Blacks were; they might be morally questionable, but Lyall couldn't complain. He himself was no saint.
"We're going to meet this afternoon, but first, I wanted to talk to you," Hermione explained, her eyes locking with her father's in a way that hinted at serious conversation.
"What did you want to talk about?" Lyall pushed aside the papers, clasping his hands on the now-cleared surface.
"Hypothetically speaking, if you had to form a business with pureblood families, who would they be?" Hermione's question hung in the air, causing her father's eyebrow to arch in intrigue.
Lyall scrutinized his daughter with a narrowed gaze. Hermione had always been an inquisitive child. While her penchant for reading didn't quite match Remus's extensive library visits, her interests veered towards politics,pureblood politics. Lyall, unable to refuse his daughter anything, took it upon himself to instruct her in the ways of pureblood etiquette, imparting lessons on everything from wardrobe choices to navigating social interactions.
"Hypothetically speaking, you say?" Lyall's interest was piqued. "I suppose you already have the Blacks in mind, right?" Hermione nodded. "Easy then, Bartemius' son and Rosier's son."
"Bartemius Crouch Senior is Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Hermione pointed out, her mind already working through the intricacies.
"Trust is a fragile currency, easily devalued by the slightest hint of deception," Lyall mused,he could hear the gears in his daughter's head turning. "You would be being pragmatic, not cynical, especially if we're talking about certain pureblood families. Hypothetically speaking, of course."
Hermione's skepticism rang in her next question, "So, hypothetically speaking, you're telling me that a hypothetical deal between Barty Crouch Jr, Evan Rosier, Regulus Black, and I would work?"
"Baby girl, you could make a deal with the Devil himself and you would win," Lyall assured her, his daughter had an innate gift for persuasion and manipulation. She had learned to play the person, not the odds, courtesy of her father.
"Dad, I'm going to need the key to our chamber at Gringotts," she smirked, a calculating glint in her eyes.
Regulus wasn't a jealous .
Jealousy required emotions, which he found terribly unrefined – or at least that's what his mother said. He was a Black, for Salazar's sake, not some hotheaded Muggle incapable of keeping his anger in check. But as he glared daggers at the back of Barty Crouch Jr, who was currently making Hermione laugh, Regulus couldn't help but feel downright murderous.
"Baby Crouch, where's your daddy?" he hissed in Barty's ear, making him turn around startled.
"What are you doing out of Knockturn Alley, Black? Does mommy dearest know?" Barty tilted his head, smirking as Regulus glared at him.
"You guys are so ridiculous. Bartemius chases Orion like a teenager with a crush, and in return, Orion bribes someone so Bartemius doesn't get all up on his shady business. Cry about it," Hermione rolled her eyes, watching as Regulus and Barty sized each other up.
"Is she always like this?" Barty asked suddenly, turning to look at the brunette.
"Get used to it," Regulus' eyes rolled as he greeted her with a kiss on her cheek. "Good afternoon, Miss Lupin."
"My, my, my, how bold of you, Lord Black, out here where everyone can see us" Hermione said with mock surprise, winking at the younger Black.
"I like to keep you on your toes, ma cherie," Regulus smirked as he heard Barty gasp in the background, "Close your mouth, Crouch, we're friends. Get over it"
The narrow cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley bustled with activity as the trio strolled through the crowded marketplace. Vibrant shop signs hung overhead, announcing the various magical wares and services available. The air was filled with the scents of spell ingredients, enchanted quills, and the occasional waft of butterbeer from The Leaky Cauldron.
As they neared the end of Diagon Alley, the crowd began to thin, and the atmosphere shifted. The transition was palpable—gone were the cheery storefronts and the laughter of families purchasing school supplies. Instead, the narrow passage of Knockturn Alley welcomed them with eerie silence and the occasional flicker of dim lantern light. The shops here were shadier, dealing in items less savory and more mysterious.
Hermione, with Regulus and Barty trailing closely behind, stopped in front of a building ,barely noticeable against the dilapidated buildings that surrounded it. The exterior, a worn-out door marked with peeling gold letters that read "Pandemonium".Taking out her wand, she murmured an "Alohomora," and the door creaked open.
The dim light from a single flickering bulb barely illuminated the space, casting long shadows on the worn wooden floor. A dense layer of dust covered every surface, turning the vibrant colors of yesteryear into dull, ghostly tones.
The bar, once polished mahogany, now bore the scars of time, with scratches and stains from countless glasses and boisterous nights. Empty, dust-covered bottles lined the shelves behind the bar, their labels faded and obscured. A neglected piano lay in the corner, its keys yellowed and silent, a stark contrast to the lively melodies that once filled the room.
The walls were decorated with old posters and framed photographs, capturing the faces of people long gone. A layer of dirt clouded their expressions, as if time itself had conspired to hide the joy and mischief frozen in those paintings. The worn upholstery of the benches and chairs whispered of a bygone era, their patterns barely distinguishable under the accumulated dust.
Cobwebs clung to the hanging lamps overhead, hanging like delicate veils that swayed wistfully in the stagnant air. Torn curtains, once elegant and opulent, now hung in tatters, their former grandeur reduced to remnants of forgotten glamor.The air carried the stale smell of age and abandonment, a mix of old wood, faded tobacco.
"Hermione, this is fucking disgusting," Regulus wrinkled his nose in disgust. "What are we doing here?"
Hermione turned to face him with a sly smile, her eyes dancing with mischief. "We're waiting for someone"
Regulus frowned, still unimpressed with the state of the establishment. "And who might that be?"
Before Hermione could answer, a soft, smooth voice resonated through the dimly lit room, cutting through the musty air. "That would be me."
The trio turned to the source of the voice, and emerging from the shadows was Evan Rosier. Tall and imposing, his dark eyes surveyed the room, taking in the dilapidated surroundings with a faint smirk.
"Hermione, mon coeur, I didn't expect you to choose such a charming venue for our meeting," Evan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he approached them.
Hermione chuckled, seemingly unfazed by the sarcasm. "Choose it specifically with you in mind, darling. Dark, mysterious and dirty. Fits your personality, doesn't it?"
"Touché," he chuckled, gesturing for them to take a seat at a table that seemed relatively free of dust. "What brings the She-Devil, her elitist lapdog and a Ministry brat to Pandemonium?"
Hermione leaned back in her chair, a calculating glint in her eyes. Evan immediately dropped his smile. "You've got to be fucking kidding with me. With these two?"
The dimly lit room was filled with an awkward tension as Regulus eyed Evan with suspicion, his jealousy bubbling just beneath the surface. Barty, sitting beside him, observed the exchange with a skeptical expression.
"Wait a minute, do you guys know each other?" Regulus finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
Evan smirked, his eyes locked with Hermione's, "She-Devil here cornered me against a wall one day, and here I am."
"Oh, please don't pretend you didn't like it when it happened," Hermione shot back, glaring at Evan. Regulus shifted uncomfortably.
"What are we all doing here, Hermione? Because it's clear that we can't stand each other," Barty pointed out, his skepticism evident.
"What your little friend here is proposing is a long-term investment: bring Pandemonium back to its former glory and, you know, make the pureblood elite run their mouths a little between drinks," Evan explained with a mischievous wink at Hermione.
"We're eleven, we can't run a business. We don't even have money to buy the premises," Barty argued, eyeing Evan and Regulus warily. He knew his father wouldn't approve of this alliance.
"I bought the place months ago, Evan has been helping me with a few things. Now I only need your signatures, if you are interested, of course," Hermione clarified, her gaze shifting to Regulus, who seemed to be the toughest sell.
"What do I gain from this? If you had told me, I would have helped you. We don't need these two," Regulus said, his voice tinged with hurt. He felt betrayed, Hermione could've come to him, why did she choose Rosier over him?
"We need them, believe me. Do you trust me?" Hermione asked, locking eyes with Regulus. "Give me those papers," he said after a few minutes, a hint of resignation in his voice, making Hermione smiled
"There's only you left, Baby Crouch. Are you going to let your father dictate your life, or are you going to make your own rules? Which one is it going to be?" Evan taunted, waving the contract in front of Barty's face.
"Fuck him," Barty declared, snatching the contract from Evan's hands. With a determined expression, he signed it. "This better be good."
"What does he have that I do not?" Regulus finally broke the quiet, his frustration evident in his voice. Hermione met his gaze, realizing that her actions had clearly irked him. The air was thick with unspoken words as Regulus awaited an answer.
The room seemed to tighten as the tension between Regulus and Hermione escalated. Barty and Evan had already left, leaving behind a lingering silence that he couldn't bear.
"What are you talking about?" Hermione replied, her eyes studying him carefully. She knew she had wounded his pride by approaching Evan before him.
"You know perfectly well, Hermione, you're not fucking stupid. What does fucking Rosier have that I don't have?" Regulus snapped, his temper flaring.
"I don't have to give you any explanation, Regulus, but if you want to know so desperately, it's protection," Hermione stated calmly, closing the distance between them until they were face to face.
"Protection? I can give you that, Hermione. I'm the second heir to the House of Black, there's no family more powerful than mine. You don't need Rosier. And what about Crouch Jr, why do you need him? To kiss the floor you walk on? Who the fuck do you think you are? You're nothing more than a filthy half-blood social climber who thinks she's smarter than anyone else," Regulus spat out, his anger and jealousy consuming him. He knew his words were harsh, but the sight of her being so friendly with Evan and Barty had ignited a fire within him.
Hermione's response was a hollow, emotionless laugh that contradicted the hurt in her eyes. Regulus, realizing the gravity of his words, attempted to apologize, but she raised her hand, cutting him off.
"Congratulations, you just crowned yourself. Fuck you, Regulus." she declared, her voice cold and cutting. Without another word, she turned on her heel and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
The door swung open, and in walked Sirius, a devil-may-care grin on his face. His eyes quickly scanned the room, landing on his younger brother, who was brooding in a corner.
"Well, well, well, what's got the almighty Lord Black looking like a thundercloud?" Sirius teased, striding over to Regulus and slapping him on the back.
Regulus shot his brother a withering look. "Can't you see I'm in a foul mood, Sirius? Keep your jokes to yourself."
Ignoring the warning, Sirius dropped into the chair opposite Regulus. "Alright, spill it. What happened? Did Mother finally disown you for not wearing the right shade of black?"
Regulus scowled but decided to indulge his brother. "No, it's not about Mother or my attire. It's about Hermione."
"Hermione?" Sirius raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. What did she do, steal your chocolate stash?"
Regulus sighed, rubbing his temples. "She caught me being an arse, alright? I said some awful things, and now she's furious. Stormed out like a bat out of hell."
Sirius whistled, genuinely impressed. "What did you say?"
Regulus hesitated for a moment, then recounted the heated exchange between him and Hermione.
"That's a new low, even for me." Sirius let out a low whistle, unable to resist a good ribbing. "So Lord Black is in the doghouse. Never thought I'd see the day. You really know how to dig yourself a grave"
Regulus shot him a withering glare. "Very funny, Sirius. I'm serious. I care about her, and I messed up. I need to fix this."
Sirius chuckled. "Well, first things first, admit you were an idiot. Apologize sincerely. And then, beg for forgiveness."
"I already tried apologizing, sent her a bouquet of flowers like Father does when Mother get angry but she wasn't having it," Regulus admitted, frustration evident in his voice.
"Rookie mistake, Reggie. Hermione isn't like Mother or any pureblood girl you can manipulate with a bouquet of roses. Besides, what made you think it would work?" Sirius crossed his arms, waiting for Regulus's response.
"Hermione's father is a pureblood," Regulus pointed out.
Sirius stared at him incredulously. "Are you being serious right now? Because I'm one step away from slapping you hard across your face, really hard."
Regulus scowled, defensive. "Well, what am I supposed to do, then?"
Sirius grinned mischievously. "Luckily for you, Peter is celebrating his birthday next week, and he's invited Remus, James, and me along with a handful of other people. The icing on the cake is that it's a masquerade ball."
Regulus arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what does that have to do with anything?"
Sirius clapped his hands together. "It's like that book you read 'Pride Prejudice". It's your chance to beg for forgiveness or at least die trying, Reggie. "
Regulus's scowl softened into contemplation. "A masquerade ball, huh? It's not a bad idea."
Sirius smirked, pleased with himself. "Of course it's not. Just remember, this is your chance to show her you're not just a typical pureblood prat."
Regulus smirked. "Don't worry, Sirius. I've got this."
Regulus moved through the lively crowd, the rhythmic beat of music and the muffled hum of conversations filling the air. His dark eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. Finally, he spotted Hermione, her unmistakable curls cascading down her shoulders, engaged in animated conversation with Evan Rosier. Regulus frowned, feeling a pang of irritation and jealousy, but that didn't stop him from approaching the pair, his expression unreadable behind the mask. "Hermione," he said, interrupting their conversation.
Hermione turned toward him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Black," she acknowledged, a cold polite smile on her lips.
"May I steal you away for a moment?" Regulus asked, his voice low and somewhat urgent.
Hermione glanced at Evan, who was busy glaring at Regulus. "Of course,"
Once they were alone, the cool night air enveloping them, Regulus took a deep breath. "I owe you an apology, Hermione," he began, his tone sincere. "I shouldn't have said what I did. It was uncalled for, and I deeply regret it."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, her curiosity evident. "Go on," she encouraged.
Regulus hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I let my prejudices cloud my judgment. I was wrong to label you in such a manner, and for that, I am truly sorry. You deserve better than baseless accusations."
Hermione regarded him in silence, her expression thoughtful. Then, a playful glint appeared in her eyes. "Anything you'd like to add, Mr. Darcy?"
Regulus blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before regaining his composure. "I just wanted to convey the sincerity of my apology," he explained.
Hermione chuckled lightly. "Well, you certainly achieved that. But you know, a simple 'I'm sorry' would have sufficed."
Regulus looked at her, a hint of amusement softening his features. "I suppose you're right. My apologies can be rather... lengthy."
Hermione grinned. "It's endearing, in its own way. Just don't make a habit of insulting me, darling or you'll be dealing with my wand."
Regulus nodded, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'll do my best to refrain from such behavior in the future, ma cherie. Now, would you do me the honour of dancing with me, Miss Bennett?"
"The real question here is, can you keep up, Mr.Darcy?" Regulus laugh rang through the air as he let Hermione tug him toward the dancefloor.