Chapter 2
There was no smart way to tell your best friends you'd kissed a Death Eater.
None.
Because it wasn't smart at all.
Selene did try to find an excuse. No matter how she would replay the events in her head, no justification was strong enough to explain her unforgivable lapse in judgment. People who had a shred of self-respect for themselves at Hogwarts followed a simple rule: Never getting involved with a Black brother. She had learned that valuable piece of advice in fourth year. Dorcas had beaten her arse with her Comet broomstick the day she'd found out she had kissed Sirius for a dare.
But this? This was unforgivable.
Regulus Black's attractiveness was obvious to every objective observer, yet it seemed too weak of an excuse to justify that.
The dark mark. She could still see it when she closed her eyes, imprinted behind her eyelids.
Even on this quiet Saturday morning, the syrup covering her apple and cinnamon pancakes twisted like a snake on her plate, making it impossible to forget last night's endeavours. Perhaps it was the product of her tiredness—because she hadn't had a single minute of sleep last night—yet she couldn't help but notice students looking at her. The tingling awareness of stares on her back, even from across the Great Hall. Probably her imagination. Most people that attended the party were still in bed and would remain so for at least a few hours.
No chance to take, however. Selene had to tell her friends, at least before anyone else did. Offering them a little mercy, she waited until both Octavia and Aisha had swallowed the last of their breakfast before jumping straight to the problem.
"I snogged Regulus Black last night."
Yep. Even there, out in the open, she still couldn't believe it.
Octavia didn't flinch, eyes still stuck to the Daily Prophet. "Hilarious. I'm too hungover for these disgusting thoughts that early, girl."
But Aisha's mouth had fallen open after a single look at her. "She's not kidding."
"Of course, she's kidding." Octavia pushed the newspaper away, meeting Selene's gaze. "You couldn't possibly—Oh my god, you did! What the hell!?"
Selene shushed her, not wanting to attract any more attention to it. "Keep it quiet, please!"
With her usual gentle mischief, Aisha poured the three of them a full cup of tea. "I want to know everything."
"There's not much to say, really," Selene replied, cheeks burning. She tied her long black hair with a flick of her wand to leave her face free. "We talked, he flirted, we kissed. Then I ran away like a damn coward."
"In the greenhouse?"
Selene nodded, explaining where they'd been when the saga had happened, including the brief clash with Lucinda beforehand.
A quick glance at the Slytherin table confirmed Black wasn't there yet. However, Selene met the amused eyes of Evan Rosier, who lifted his glass of orange juice at her in a celebratory way. Of course he knew. She rolled her eyes, and even from across the Great Hall, she heard him laugh.
Octavia remained silent for a beat or two. "I hope he didn't force himself on you. I'm gonna kill the fucking bastard if he did."
"O'," Selene stopped her with a raised hand. "I kissed him. No regret."
The kiss was a mistake, but what a glorious mistake that was. Blood rushed to her cheeks at the memory, one she recounted without going into juicy details. Absorbed by her tale, Aisha rested her chin on her palms. Selene had guessed from the start that the Ravenclaw wouldn't be the one to convince. Octavia, on the other hand, had her eyebrows almost up to her hairline.
"I didn't know you were that bored."
Aisha glared at their friend. "Don't be condescending, O'. Have you even seen the man?"
"That Black is handsome doesn't change the fact that he's a Death Eater."
"We don't know for sure," Aisha intervened.
Selene was already halfway into it. Might as well reveal that crunchy detail.
"He has the mark. I saw it."
Octavia threw both arms in the air, flabbergasted.
"Selene! What the fuck! What would your sister say? And Sirius? Oh my god, Sirius will—"
She cut Octavia short. "Nobody needs to know, as I don't intend to repeat the experience."
End of story. It was a one-time thing.
Per her wince, Aisha didn't appear convinced. "I'm pretty sure at least one person saw you. It won't be long before people talk about it."
"I don't think Black is the kind of guy to spread gossip about the girls he's had," Selene said.
Except to Rosier. And Crouch.
"Sirius would," Octavia recalled. "Remember the fifth year? All the stories he shared about his dates?"
The way her skin flushed in anger was a surprise. "Regulus is not his brother."
Despite their friendship, Selene had never agreed with the way Sirius talked of women. Mere objects to fulfil his fantasies. Ways to make him forget he was in love with his best friend. He had shared extensively because it made people laugh late at night in the Gryffindor tower. Regulus wasn't interested in being in that kind of spotlight.
Aisha stepped in, as she often did. "Girls, what is done is done. Now what I want to know is if it was any good."
"Fuck yes. Best snog I've ever had," Selene confirmed with a smirk.
Octavia sighed.
"You better kick his ass on the pitch next week."
Selene did not, indeed, kick his ass.
In all fairness, her team was well prepared. They've practiced just as hard as they had with James as captain, even through the cold September rain. The morning of the match, Selene had woken up well-rested, confident that this victory would be a piece of cake. Even when she'd shaken Lucinda's hand, she wasn't able to hide her smugness.
Beginner's mistake.
The match had started well. Despite his nervousness at filling such big shoes, Michael, her new chaser, had scored four goals in the first ten minutes. Even at thirteen, his potential was obvious, and soon, cheers could not be quieted down in the Gryffindor stands. Louie, their new keeper, made such spectacular saves that had even Selene yell in delight with the rest of the crowd. Confidence got to her head too quickly.
Gryffindor had been leading 130-40 when she first caught sight of the snitch hovering near the teachers' tribune. Instinct had urged her forward, lying down on her broom, the drizzle turning into cold pellets of rain in the speed.
Soon enough, Black had started racing beside her for the golden flying ball.
She had tried to forget she was playing against him. She hadn't given him a single glimpse of the entire week. Well, only a couple when he wasn't looking. But not today. She would not allow herself to be distracted while stakes were so high.
Because seeing Black fly was a treat.
They soared so fast the wind almost tore through the twin braids on the side of her head. The snitch climbed, so did they, elbow to elbow, until it dropped back toward the pitch. Selene followed in a looped curve, Black by her sides as he refused to let her fly a single inch ahead of him.
The thrill of the descent brought her heart up to her throat. Merlin, the chase was the best part of quidditch. Grinning from ear to ear, she watched the ground coming up to meet them. He chuckled; a cheerful sound she knew for certain he only allowed himself to make while being so up in the cloudy sky.
The golden ball turned right, giving her a considerable advantage. Within her reach. So close, she leaned forward, stretching her hand….
"So, when are we going out again?"
Distracted, her fingers shut around the air, letting the ball escape. Black nudged her away, no chivalry, and caught the snitch instead.
Oh no.
He couldn't have.
It was so fucking sly.
Black looked over his shoulder at her and had the audacity to pluck his mouth into a kiss.
Pure, unfiltered anger buzzed in her ears, preventing her from hearing the cheerful shouts coming from the Slytherin stands below. Automatically, her eyes darted to the scoring board. 190 Slytherin, 130 Gryffindor.
No. Not a chance in hell.
She couldn't possibly have lost.
Her broom came to a stop, levitating somewhere above the Hufflepuff stands. Already on the other side of the pitch, the Slytherin team was completing their celebratory lap, Regulus leading them around.
Michael met her mid-air first, shortly followed by the rest of the team. As one, they glared at the opposite team, holding each other. And despite their words of encouragement, Selene followed her team and dismounted on the sodden mud, absolutely crestfallen.
James would murder her.
The Slytherins slammed the ground, mud flying as they landed in the middle of the pitch. Celebrating students rushed for their winning team, cheering too loudly to Selene's taste. Talkalot was screaming the loudest, even if Black remained the centre of attention, receiving claps on his shoulders. Rosier dishevelled his hair with two muddy beater gloves and Black told him off, although his bright smile said otherwise. His eyes found her across the crowd. He had the nerve to wink while brandishing the golden ball.
"Sorry, love," he mouthed without looking sorry in the slightest.
Sorry, love.
Sorry, love.
When she blinked, her rationality evaporated.
She'd make him fucking sorry.
Selene reached for her wand in her inside pocket while stomping in his direction. Mud squished underneath her feet, staining her brand-new boots. Black's smile only grew eager.
Two broad chests blocked her way forward. "Woah, Selene! Put this away!"
Selene glared down at the two beaters, bypassing them. "I'm just going to curse the grin off of Black's face. I'll be quick."
They blocked her path again, with a smile this time. "I'm afraid we can't let you do that."
"It'll make me feel better."
The two young men laughed, dragging her away to the changing rooms instead. She groaned but complied, avoiding looking at the gathering once again.
Founders curse Black and his devilish grin.
She couldn't tell whether she hated or loved it.
Selene did not succeed in drowning herself in the shower. She'd kept the water cold as a punishment for her idiocy, yet it only numbed the outer layer of her skin. When she finally got out of the changing rooms an hour later, her blood was still boiling with rage.
She couldn't go back to the tower and cross paths with any member of her team before regaining control over her emotions. As captain, people held her to higher standards. She winced. James never had to live with that problem. When he wore the badge, Gryffindor won almost all of its matches.
It took her an embarrassing amount of time to feel like herself again. Once she was able to spend more than a few minutes without wanting to curse either Talkalot, Black, or worse, herself, she left the quiet peace of Hogsmeade's coffee shop and walked all the way back to the castle, muscles still aching from the match.
When she reached the castle, darkness was settling. Selene had made it halfway across the entrance courtyard when she heard them.
Rosier's musical laugh, always very distinctive, was the first she recognized before she got close enough to see them. Under the roof of the cloisters, Rosier, Crouch, and Black had cigarettes between their lips, red lights flickering as they inhaled. Night hadn't completely fallen, but the Slytherins seemed distracted enough by their conversation to miss her passing by. Rosier laughed again at something Crouch said. Selene urged forward, keeping her steps quiet but unfaltering.
Three against one. She wouldn't risk cursing Black now.
She had almost passed them when Crouch and his unnatural sense of awareness spotted her. He nudged Rosier, who whistled at her, drawing Black's attention. Only instilled politeness forced Selene to nod her head in salutations to the group.
Black exhaled a cloud of smoke, nodding in reply. Simple. No tension, no duel, no flirting. No need for her palms to get that sweaty, even if he looked absolutely magnetic. She should have known he had nothing to care for proper behaviour.
"Nice catch today."
"Go fuck yourself, Black."
Outbursts of laughter followed her as she resumed walking, her boots mushing the wet leaves.
Bloody idiot.
Selene stormed for the door without looking back. Yes, she was a sore looser. So what? Didn't mean that Black had to rub it in her face, especially after winning by pure cunningness alone. She had no patience for bad winners.
Black stepped into her path right before she pushed the door open. Surely, spending the entire day drowning coffee must have impaired her vision, because for a brief moment, his expression seemed soft.
"Don't be like that."
In his rush, he hadn't even bothered with an umbrella charm to keep him dry. She went around him, but he blocked her path again. She ended her own umbrella charm to point her wand at him.
"Meadowes." Her name rolled like sugar on his tongue. "There's no need for such dramatics."
"Don't be such an asshole, then."
He smiled. "Fair enough. I pledge a truce. Cigarette?"
She recognized the white pack in his hand. Although she didn't fancy smoking, sometimes she'd indulge in one. Or two. Remus—a terrible influence regarding lifestyle habits—used to offer cigarettes from that very same brand. Right now, she craved the acridness of smoke on her tongue, and decided that the relaxation from smoking overcame the terrible company.
"Fine."
Selene followed him under the roof. Dusk cast the cloisters in shadows, turning the otherwise beautiful medieval architecture into an eerie setting, but at least they were sheltered from the chilly rain. Crouch lit her cigarette with the tip of his wand, the only acknowledgement of her presence. Rosier, however, beamed at her arrival, flicked his gaze at Black and wiggled his eyebrows.
"Not to rub it in…" Rosier started, running a hand through his groomed pale brown hair whilst Selene's eyes had already started rolling upward. "But I think Gryffindor played super well today. The new chaser, what's his name? Yeah, Michael. He dodged my bludgers a dozen times during the match. Bloody impressive. That's raw talent."
Crouch lit up another cigarette. "You would have won if it wasn't for Reg."
Rosier nodded in agreement. "…. Reg and his fancy broom. You did great with your new team. Don't doubt it."
Strangely, the compliments touched her. It was one thing to receive them from loved ones and friends, but praise resounded differently when it came from the opposite team. It soothed the burn of defeat a little.
"Thank you. I won't lose like that ever again."
"I'm sure you won't," Black said, his voice softer than velvet. "It was our last match against each other."
He looked like proper mischief in the dark, rainy night. A vision of devilry, dressed in black to better hide in the shadows. His tailored coat fell to his knees, following his lithe body in the most elegant way as he reclined, jutting the sole of his foot against the stone wall.
He even smelled like trouble. Like cigarette and sandalwood and musk.
She wanted to taste him again.
"Even then," Selene said despite her dry mouth. "I wouldn't have fallen for the tactic."
His usual smirk made a flash appearance. "What tactic?"
Rosier cleared his throat, then crushed his cigarette butt under his booth. "I'm freezing my ass off. I'm going back in. Barty?"
"Coming. You done Reg?"
Rosier gave Crouch a pointed look, but Black replied nonetheless. "Later."
Crouch noted the absence of a cigarette between Black's fingers with a cocked eyebrow, but Rosier pulled him with an arm around his shoulders, leading him away. Selene heard him mutter as they walked through the threshold. "You're so fucking daft sometimes, Barty."
The Gryffindor finished what remained of hers and made it disappear with a flick of her wand. She would not litter Hogwarts' grounds like these savages.
She peeked at her watch. "I should go back."
"I'll walk you back to the tower. It's not curfew yet, but it's still late."
Since it was Saturday, she doubted Black wore his prefect badge under his coat. She didn't mind being out after curfew, but the Gryffindor tower stood at the other end of the castle and at this time of year, it was menacingly dark in the building. Not that she would ever admit being uncomfortable roaming Hogwarts' corridors alone at night.
"Don't you have a celebratory party to go back to?"
She tried not to sound too sour, but according to the look he gave her, she was pretty sure to have failed. Black held the door open for her.
"The party can wait."
"Surely it won't start without you, you're its guest of honour."
Yep. She did sound sour.
"They will wait, Meadowes, because I'll make time for this conversation. We need to talk about why it happened."
"I get why," Selene said with a slight snap, her voice echoing in the deserted entrance hall. "If I were as sly as you, I would have done the same and caught the damn snitch. You don't have to apologize."
She loathed the truth of it. Selene did not have a single bone of slyness in her body. Had she been in Black's position with no care in the world for proper competition, she would have used every weapon in her arsenal, including her charm, to give her team that well-deserved victory.
He stopped walking at the bottom of the wide staircase, running a hand through his damp hair to sleek the curls back. It was unfair how attractive he looked, even in the most trivial moments. Selene had to turn her head to the side to hide her embarrassing blush, the tall limestone statues adorning the wall witnessing her mortifying predicament.
Damn it, girl. Get a hold on to yourself.
"Meadowes."
"What."
"I'm not talking about the bloody snitch."
Oh. She should have known he wanted to talk about last Friday. More blood rushed to her already flustered face and her defences snapped up, mainly acting as a protective spell against his line of questioning. Honestly, she hadn't expected him to confront her at all. Black was supposed to go back to his usual disinterested self, and outside a knowing smirk once in a while, she had anticipated him to leave her alone.
Delusional? Perhaps.
That he stood here, arms crossed on his chest, while all his friends celebrated his victory, gave the impression of a cheap prank. What did he want from her? Selene scowled, unwilling to play whatever games he had planned. She would not humiliate herself by admitting anything he'd use against her.
"So why?" He pushed.
"Did I need a reason?"
"Usually, when a girl sticks her tongue inside my mouth, there's a reason behind it."
She ignored his haughtiness and swiped both palms up. "Maybe I was just bored. What else do you think there is?"
"You tell me. Unless snogging random people is something you do during these Gryffindor parties. Don't blame me for being surprised. You're well aware I don't usually attend."
"I don't snog random people."
His eyes flashed with satisfaction. "I'm honoured, then."
"For fuck's sake, Black. Don't read too much into this, alright? It's just… I wanted…" Her struggling grip on words failed her, and the cocky, penetrating stare of the Slytherin wasn't helping. She took a deep breath. "You flirted with me first."
He didn't deny it. "Can you blame me? Even across the room, I sensed the mischief coming from you. I had no interests in being caught in yet another fight. You should thank me for offering that distraction instead. I was feeling generous."
"Everyone knows selflessness is your best quality." He had the audacity to grin at that. "Don't you… regret it?"
"Regret?" He let out a disbelieving, short laugh. "Christ, no."
The half-admitted confession killed the incoming retort on her lips. In the spacious, candle-lit entrance hall, the silence echoed all too loudly as she swallowed the revelation. The man loathed public displays of affection. Parties. People. Yet he had attended in a crowded, stuffy greenhouse for hours, ambushing her not once, but twice, to pour his poison into her ears.
Of course, he didn't regret it. He had premeditated it.
He eyed her down, his searing gaze burning through her juxtaposed layers of pretenses. She felt seen, and therefore, vulnerable. Her gaze dropped to her feet.
"Tell me what you want, Meadowes."
"Nothing. It was a one-time thing."
"Look at me, say that again, and I might believe it."
Their eyes met. How easy to forget the stakes when getting a little too close to him, trying to read into his cold grey irises. With no one around to influence them and not a uniform in sight, Black was simply a dashing man, too clever for his own good. Of course, the aura of danger always surrounded him, but Selene liked it. It kept luring her in, and she was curious—perhaps a little brainless—to confirm whether it was a product of her imagination based on what she knew about him, or the true reflection of real darkness in him.
Because, from what she had observed so far, Black was no different from her friends, fighting for a new world. Only Black fought beside the world's greatest psychopath that ever existed. Minor detail.
She didn't say it again.
"I don't think you regret it either," he said, taking a step toward her. "You play pretend for the sake of appearances, but I'm no fool." Another step. "I think you readied all these excuses to convince yourself it was a mistake." Another "I think you crave more, but you don't want to ask for it."
She had expected the question and stood ready to lie, bracing herself against his unflinching stare. But the words that escaped her weren't the ones she had prepared.
"I feel like a traitor."
"Selene," he said, her first name foreign in his mouth, although she did like it there. He pushed back a strand of hair that had slipped from one of her twin braids. "It's okay to want something different. Not everything has to be divided between Slytherins and Gryffindors, or Death Eaters and Order of the Phoenix. We could stand on the No-man's-land for all I care."
She blinked, a thousand pounds leaving her shoulders in a simple exhale. "You're right."
This wasn't about the war, Sirius, or even Dorcas.
This was about her.
"I know." The corner of his mouth rose in an irresistible smile. "Come. Let me make it up to you for catching that bloody snitch."
"Charming."
The potion lab was deserted as expected, so late on a weekend. It was the cleanest Selene had ever seen the room, without cauldrons on the tables and slimy ingredients laying here and there. Not a single vial remained in sight, and cabinets had been locked to prevent curious students from shuffling through Slughorn's ingredients. Her boot crushed dried valerian flowers, and she twisted on her feet quick enough to note Black roll his eyes.
"Sorry, did you want romance?"
She laughed, a short silent exhale, as she watched him close and lock the door. "I don't care for rose petals, but a… couch might have been nice."
The Gryffindor almost said 'bed', but it would have betrayed how far her imagination had already travelled.
"I couldn't exactly bring you to my dorm. Although Evan would have probably stood guard by the door and hexed anyone who got a little too close."
"He's so down for this," she said with a mocking grin, remembering how Rosier had left them alone earlier. "He saw us last week, didn't he?"
"Watched the whole thing like a damn voyeur. Said it was hot."
Black gripped her hips as if his hands belonged there. Heartbeat thundered in her ears, the pressure on his fingers not as foreign as she would have thought. "He's not wrong," she breathed.
"I may need a refresher."
"As if you didn't spend every night this past week thinking about it."
He caught her face with one hand, the shock of his cool rings on her cheek blasting a shiver across her body. "You're projecting, love."
The kiss was a world away from the impulsiveness they exchanged a week ago. Cold, precise, exactly the way she had imagined Black might kiss her while being in control of the situation. He kept coming back for one more. Another. She gave him everything.
Choosing Black above all others now made a lot of sense. Selene had nothing to care for warm passionate embraces and endless caresses. No, she craved for the iciness of his touch instead, for the precise strokes of his ringed fingers against her burning skin. She revelled in the thermal shock of their oppositions. Everything wrong about him felt nothing but right, and gods, that said a lot about her.
He looked down at her between two presses of his mouth, and for once, she was grateful for her expressivity. More. More.
"Alright, then," he said in a whisper, tilting her head up.
Black's tongue forced her lips apart. She locked her fingers in his hair as he led her with a guiding hand until her back hit the wall. Lean muscles pressed deliciously against her body and her spine arched of its own accord when he sunk even deeper into her mouth.
Again, this might have remained a lustful yet reasonable snog had he not gripped her throat and pinned his hips against hers, caging Selene in the most delectable of prisons.
Black pulled back, just enough to read the wanton desire plastered unashamedly on her face. His lips quirked up. Then he squeezed her neck, hard enough to make her gasp, and he shoved his tongue inside her parted mouth again. The taste of him. She'd never get enough. Selene released his hair and gripped his shoulder, her other hand sliding inside his pants and drawing an enticing groan out of him. The sound shot straight between her legs.
She pulled away, breathless. Mindless. Reckless.
And Black dropped to his knees.
Once, she would have kicked him in the shin for daring looking at her with such thirst. Yet Selene could only watch as he slipped both hands underneath her skirt. Her chest tightened, so did all her muscles when he slid down her underwear with all the nonchalance in the world.
If she had known, she would have put on something cuter than this. He didn't seem to mind, his thumbs already drawing obscene artwork up her thighs. She writhed in impatience.
He kissed the inside of her left thigh. "They say patience is a virtue."
She glared, hoping he saw the threat in her eyes. Oh, he may talk about virtue all he wanted, for he was sin personified. She'd always hesitated between Pride and Envy, as both seemed fitting for him. Tonight, however, Black was Lust, and as he held her skirt up and lifted one leg over his shoulder to put his mouth between her thighs, hand clutching her ass, she wondered how she ever doubted that.
He didn't rush it.
The languishing, irritatingly talented strokes on his tongue were careful, so patient, as if he had nowhere else he'd rather be. Selene let her head fall back against the wall, resting a hand on the table next to her for balance. Dizzy by the ravaging heatwave that flowed in her belly, her legs nearly buckled underneath her, and despite doing her best to keep the whimpers and moans subdued, one or two fled her lips, anyway. Black's grip on her ass tightened.
"I soundproofed the room, love. Stop holding back."
Whether she wanted to comply or not, Black didn't give her a choice. He sucked on her clit and she squealed, embarrassingly loud. For sure, the bastard was grinning. So he did it again and again until she couldn't help but grind on his face and chase release. But each time her breathing quickened, he looked up from between her legs and slowed the pace back down. Flattened his tongue and decreased the pressure. Licked long, filthy strides. Delicious, delicious torture. But it was pushing her limits.
And her patience.
"Black, I swear to god—"
He only hummed against her, a glint of playfulness glowing in his dilated irises as he looked up again. The message in his eyes was clear enough. I can do this all night.
Ok then.
She caught his hair, pulling him closer. The Slytherin's fingers forsook her skirt to dive right into her, where she craved them. Fuck. She felt the cold ring on his index at the entrance, where his knuckles pushed to curl his fingers inward. So indecent. She'd never recover from it.
A final suck of his mouth had her tip over the edge with a gasp. Black took his damn time, making sure she was done with the last tremors of her orgasm before falling back on his heels, wearing the obscenest grin she'd ever seen on his lips.
The burgundy skirt fell back, all proper.
It would have been the most reasonable course of action to leave it at that. To thank him and exit the potion lab before things got out of control. Perhaps schedule another rendezvous, where she might return the favour, if he wanted it. To take things slow, or at least follow some kind of appropriate timelines.
But then Regulus stood up, his hair a dishevelled mess, and he ran a thumb across his glossy lips. She gazed down. His erection strained against his pants.
An inferno of lust destroyed whatever thoughts remained in her head.
Dead.
Brain-dead.
"Black."
"Yes?"
He had the audacity to sound perfectly composed while she was a panting wreck. No. That would not do.
"That's not nearly enough."
He chuckled and made a movement to lower himself back to the ground, but she gripped his shoulder. "Don't."
Instead, she reached for him, undoing the buttons one by one, until the white flowy shirt—not the one she'd ruined last Friday—opened on his chest. The contrast of colours between the black of his hair, the paleness of his skin and the dark pink of his lips marked the end of her sanity.
She swallowed, admiring the view.
"Keep it on."
"Oh no," Black shook his head. "None of this tonight." He rolled his sleeves, starting with his left arm, and before she could react, the dark mark appeared before her eyes. He followed her line of sight with a cruel grin. "Either it's visible, or we stop this right here. No false pretenses."
She let her fingers trailed down his chest, down to the bulge in seams of his pants. "I thought we were in the No-man's-land."
"We could be in the Order's Headquarters; I'd still want you to be fully aware of who's fucking you."
Understandable. He stepped back, letting her decide where she drew the line. Selene ignored the twist of her stomach when she took a step away from the wall and saw how his face remained blank at her rejection. Coldly indifferent, as if he hadn't expected her to stay at all. All fun and deceit until she remembered the mark on his forearm and how she couldn't want him.
Black didn't know her very well.
She brought her fingers to her blouse. At the third button, she realized he hadn't moved an inch. The smile was hard to repress as she continued downward. Down until her blouse parted and fell to the ground, exposing her skin to his view.
She made it. She made Regulus Black frozen with shock. With lust.
Voldemort could have walked into the room; he wouldn't have taken his eyes off her. She smirked, copying his feline smile. What wouldn't she do to draw this expression from him again? She traced the line of her cleavage, played with the straps of her bra until he jolted out of his torpor and backed her to the nearest table. He didn't slow when her back touched the furniture, advancing until he towered over her, his irises a thin circle of grey around his dilated pupils.
"Turn around."
She obeyed, presenting her back to him. His mouth hovered above her shoulder, brushing the skin, his fingers trailing on her neck, almost too softly. She squirmed, done with all that teasing. Her skin stood ready to combust, and there he was, playing with her body like he had all evening to spare.
How come was he so composed? Didn't he want this too? Wasn't he—
Gripping her neck, Black bended her forward without warning, flattening her chest on the potion table. A surprised huff escaped her, and she heard the echo of her racing heart through the ear stuck on the table.
Yes. Yes.
He wasn't even touching her beside the hand on her neck, and fuck, her arousal dripped down her thighs. Selene knew that from now on, Regulus Black would only disrespect her.
"Please," she panted, her cheek pressed hard against the cool surface.
He flipped her skirt over her back. That damn Gryffindor skirt he refused to remove. Anticipation had her press her ass back against him. Black's hips pushed into hers, although she didn't miss the low groan he made at the contact.
"Behave."
She wished to tease him further. See how far he'd go to make her behave. But Selene held little interest in giving him yet another reason to test her limited patience.
Watching him undress by looking over her shoulder, she committed every inch of his body to memory for long, lonely nights in the Gryffindor tower. He was a lithe work of art, a piece she would frame to admire every day. With pristine alabaster skin, carved like those statues in Athens. Unfair how beautiful he was.
When he noticed her unfaltering attention, he took his time even more, not bothering to hide the satisfied curve of his lips. Fucking bastard.
Next time, she'll make him beg.
She gasped when he finally filled her with a slow, steady push, a hand pressing down on her lower back to prevent her from moving. As expected, the first thrust was uncomfortable, so was the second. But the third time he slid in, he hit all the right places and Selene let out in a scattered breath all the curse words she'd ever learnt.
"That good, hm?" The smile in his voice was telling enough.
Better than good. It felt right. Overcame by lust, she swayed back to meet each thrust of his hips. Black would be her ruination. He worshipped her in his disrespect, revered each mark he'd left on her skin, for his cruelness could only be tempered by the tenderness of his touch.
His palm slammed the table right beside her face for support. It also exposed the Dark Mark right there, all across her visual field. For sure, the placement was deliberate. The mark gleamed a red so dark it seemed almost black under the room's dusky lighting. The tattoo so ugly she craved to lick it off his skin.
Selene darted her tongue out, trailing it along the snake's body.
"Fuck."
Black's fingers dug deeper into her flesh; his grip strong enough to leave a bruise behind.
Perfect. She, too, wanted to be marked by their unforgiveable lewdness. Lest she forgot who she spent the night with.
She licked the mark again.
"So disrespectful." He slammed into her, forcing a scream out of her. "I should make you apologize on your knees with my cock at the back of your throat."
I'm free all night, she wanted to say, but he wouldn't let a single word leave her mouth. No, the only sounds he allowed were the pants and the moans flying from her parted lips in rhythm with his hips. Speech had evaded her, anyway.
Too much. Too bloody much.
She slid a hand between the table and herself, under his approving hum. It didn't take long. Moments after her fingers reached between her thighs, she collapsed with a scream, her climax near-instantaneous.
Selene remained vaguely aware of his hand stroking her back possessively, up and down her spine. The touch soothing the roughness. If anything, that's what she perceived through the blur of pleasure. With her eyes closed anyway, the only thing she saw for sure being the star he was named after. Much, much brighter than her eponym, the moon.
A mind-shattering lesson in Astronomy, being fucked by Regulus Black.
When her breathing came back to normal, he slowed, then pulled out.
"Why d'you stop?" She pushed a braid away from her face, looking over her shoulder.
Helping her upright, Black turned her until she faced him. He had a little laugh. "You think I'm done with you? I'm so late for my party already."
Her mind still clouded by the remnants of her orgasm, she barely had time to register what he was doing. Then she found herself laying back on the potion table and instinct kicked in. Heels behind his upper thighs, she pushed him back in.
"You're so greedy." Black's fingers loitered in the valley between her breast, then chased its peaks, first with thumbs by pushing the fabric of her bra away, then with his tongue. Strands of black hair fell in front of his silver eyes as he licked stripes on her skin, gaze leaving hers only to admire her body and tests its reactions. Selene could confirm she'd never seen anything so hot in her entire life.
Never felt that desired. Heat pooled back down her abdomen. Again.
Digging her heels a little deeper behind his thighs, she urged him to move. Black obliged, although he gave her a weird look.
"What?" she asked.
He hesitated for a brief instant before surrendering to whatever fight happening inside his head. His lips brushed her neck. "Tell me you're free tomorrow."
Selene tilted her head back and smiled.