CHAPTER THREE: DISCORD
Flora walked down to the edge of the garden with Sirius and Remus to bid them a miserable, reluctant goodbye. Regulus remained inside and he remained there in the kitchen until Flora returned, inspecting his new surroundings warily. He was somewhat familiar already with the microwave and electric kettle, as Sirius and Remus had these in their flat, but he certainly didn't know how to use them. Thus, when Flora returned only a minute later, it was to discover Regulus fiddling with the dial on the microwave.
She stopped short in the doorway, surprised he hadn't yet gone upstairs like he'd said he would. She shut the door and looked at him askance. "What are you doing?"
Regulus turned with a mildly irritated expression on his face. "What?"
He spoke sharply, as if offended she would dare address him. His sharp eyes tracked over her face, down to her feet, then back to her face again.
"What are you doing?" Flora repeated steadily, trying to sound braver than she truly felt. "I thought you were going to sulk upstairs."
"I can do what I like," he returned stiffly. "Go away."
Flora bristled at this and walked further into the room. "This is my house. You don't tell me what to do."
"It's just you here?" He asked with a perplexed frown.
"I thought that might be obvious."
He glared. "I shouldn't be surprised. My brother and that fag don't have a servant either."
Flora was not an angry person by nature, but this unpleasant, provoking boy left her feeling affronted in a way she had never before experienced. Her anger rose at once.
"I beg your pardon?" She demanded stormily.
"That was my reaction too," he drawled, turning back to her microwave to twirl the dials again with his long fingers. "Not having a servant. It's positively absurd."
"What did you just call my brother?"
Regulus ignored her. He turned his attention to the beige and brown kettle and pressed down on the button, watching it as it began to heat up and hiss. Flora strode over, flicked the button off and squared up on him; her height was diminished next to him, but this sudden movement still made Regulus take an abrupt step back like she was a wasp coming at him with a stinger. He stared at her with unmasked contempt.
"What did you just say?" She asked again, incensed.
"What?" He scowled.
"My brother- what did you call him?"
"I'll not repeat myself to you," he snarled back, his voice laced with contempt.
Flora's eyes flashed furiously. She was angry and quite suddenly felt like she wanted to cry, hating that she'd agreed to this, hating that she'd been weak enough to give in to Sirius all because he given her cloying looks and pouts. The boy had only been here ten minutes and she had had enough of him. There was no way this would last the day, she thought, let alone a week; as soon as Remus and Sirius came back, she'd tell them. She'd tell them she'd changed her mind and they'd have to find somewhere else for him to go. Frankly, she didn't care anymore.
Regulus moved his way around the kitchen table, his movements as graceful as a cat, and made a beeline for the sitting room. Flora's chest heaved and she angrily followed. The sitting room was crowded with mismatched armchairs, a long sofa, and heaps of books. A large, rather crooked fireplace centred the room; as Flora had not yet lit it, the room was chilly.
"Now what are you-" she started.
"Oh, you have one of those boxes too."
"Yes," she snapped, following the direction of his eyes. "It's called a television."
His critical, hard gaze moved across the room and fixed upon the record player next, then at the books stacked untidily on shelves and anywhere else Flora could fit them. That odd scowl darkened his brow again. It was a questioning sort of look.
"Are those yours?" He pointed to the piles of books stacked by an armchair. A large shelf occupied a quarter of the room and it was clearly not enough for all the books Flora owned.
"Yes," she replied, folding her arms.
He looked at her directly now, his frown deepening. "You can read?"
Flora stared for a moment, blinking, then recovered and fixed her eyes on him sharply. "If you are just going to stand here and insult me all day, you can go back to London with Sirius and Remus. It's no skin off my nose if anything happens to you."
He narrowed his eyes on her. "I wasn't insulting you. I was asking a question."
"Do you really take me for an idiot?"
"Is that a serious question?"
Flora stared up at him, incredulous. "Go upstairs!" She finally exploded.
A small smirk pulled at his lips as he stared down at her. "You do have the most interesting little tantrums."
Flora wanted to strangle him. "Tantrums?"
"Yes, tantrums," he replied coolly. "It's quite funny. You're all just like little children, aren't you? Muggles, I mean."
"And I mean it," she reiterated, unsure of what else to threaten him with, "When I say I'll tell my brother."
"Oh, no," he replied sarcastically, "Not your brother."
He drifted over to her record player next and lifted the lid and then the arm in one smooth movement. The deck and record began to spin but he didn't drop the needle. He just watched the record spin noiselessly.
Flora's eyes were fixated on his hands and beautiful, long fingers. He was impossibly handsome, she thought suddenly. She observed the shape of his face, which was in profile to her at present, noticing his strong, angular jaw and his deep, clear-cut cheekbones. He was too handsome. And clearly he knew it. Perhaps it was the arrogance of his beauty that made her hate him more. It was at this point she assailed upon his fiddling with the record player and pushed his hand away from it. She didn't care if she nearly broke it - Remus could fix it in seconds - she just did not want him touching her things. As she shooed his hand away, her own hand brushed his and Regulus drew back sharply like she had burned him. His eyes flashed dangerously.
"Touch me again and see what happens, you filthy muggle," he said. His voice was full of venomous, unbridled hatred, but he spoke in an even tone. It was too calm and for a moment it scared Flora.
But Flora straightened up, refusing to let herself be frightened by this boy. Because really that's all he was. Just a boy.
"Or what?" She challenged.
His surprise was obvious as she stood her ground. He blinked a few times, looking at her as he considered his next move. Flora was not very tall, or at least compared to Regulus she was not tall, as he completely towered over her; he stared fixedly at her face, enraged by the sheer audacity of this muggle girl.
"Go on," she prompted when he still didn't answer. "Or what? You don't even have a wand."
"I don't need a wand," he spat back. "I don't need it to deal with a little girl like you." He wanted to say something to terrify her, to make her back down and respect him as the superior, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he settled for glowering at her like a shadowy spectre. This still didn't appear to have the effect he'd hoped for. Flora clearly was not afraid, or was otherwise doing a very good job of hiding it.
"If you do anything to me, you know exactly what will happen."
Regulus stiffened. "They don't scare me."
"They'll hex your bollocks off, as Sirius so eloquently worded it."
"I'm sure my manhood is perfectly safe, thank you very much."
"Oh, of course," she scoffed. "Probably because you don't have any to hex."
His jaw clenched at this, half surprised she was still arguing with him. "I think if you asked any girl who's seen them that they would disagree with you."
"Disagree with me or not, it doesn't matter. They probably weren't impressed."
Regulus cast her an icy glare. "Watch your tone, muggle."
"It's Flora."
"What?" He frowned.
"My name, idiot."
"What a stupid name," he countered weakly, trying to maintain his composure.
"No stupider than Regulus."
Regulus narrowed his eyes in annoyance, his voice dripping with sarcasm and condescension. "You're literally called Flower."
"It's the name of the Roman goddess of flowers, actually," Flora replied with a little sniff. She liked her name and wasn't going to let anyone insult it.
Regulus scoffed and sneered. "How utterly fitting. You're as shallow and pretty as a flower, and just as dim, it seems."
Flora raised an eyebrow at this, not the least bit ruffled. "Pretty? What a kind thing to say."
"Pretty in the same way that an empty vase could be pretty," he recovered quickly. "Don't mistake my insult for a compliment."
"All I heard was pretty," she replied.
Regulus stared at her for a moment, scowling darkly. Flora was pretty and he direly resented it. Desirous to change the subject, he fell back to criticising her instead. "You're irritating, you know that?"
"So are you."
"And I don't like you."
"The feeling is incredibly mutual."
"Then it seems we can agree on something," he returned curtly. He was standing over her like a dark storm cloud and took a step back when he realised they were almost less than a foot apart. "Why am I even talking to you? You're not worth my breath."
"Go away then," Flora replied dismissively. "I'm not stopping you."
Regulus seemed to consider this but then paused a moment. "When is my brother coming back?" He asked.
"How should I know? You were there too. Go upstairs and leave me alone until he gets here," Flora said as she turned and went back into the kitchen. Regulus followed like a shadow, his brow still furrowed in irritation.
"What am I supposed to do until he gets back?" He asked contemptuously.
"Oh, I wouldn't presume to tell you how to use your time," Flora retorted without looking at him. "Why don't you go read one of those books? They're collecting dust. You know, because I can't read them."
"Muggle books?" he sneered. "What good are they to me?"
"They'd get you out of my way while I bake," she said, reaching down to a lower cupboard where Regulus happened to be standing. He moved back even further, watching her.
A look of uncomfortable realisation crept across his face. He watched as she opened the cupboards and took out a large mixing bowl and weighing scales.
"Are you going to do all the cooking here?" He asked with trepidation.
"Not unless you want to."
"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped back haughtily, seeming to miss her sarcasm entirely.
"Then I suppose it's me who will be cooking your meals while you're here. I agreed to keep you here one week, by the way. Just to start with. But let's be honest and agree you'll be gone by this afternoon with any luck."
"I'll go when I bloody well please," he clipped back.
"Oh, really?" Flora replied with indifference, still not looking at him as she rummaged through the cupboards.
"Yes, really," he scowled, sitting down at the kitchen table. "I'm here temporarily because this is the safest place for me to be."
"I wouldn't count on it," Flora snorted. "I could poison your dinner." She felt less afraid of him now; his childish persistence in arguing with her and following her room-to-room somehow made him feel less hostile and more ridiculous. "Or perhaps I'll rip your bollocks off myself and serve them to you in a dish."
Regulus' stared at her, his jaw clenched in annoyance. "You dare threaten me?"
Flora suddenly laughed, short and briefly. She turned her head to look at him and moved over to the table with the large brown mixing bowl, which she set down in front of her. A new thought occurred to her now. "Are you afraid of me, Regulus?"
Regulus faltered, slightly caught off-guard by the way she laughed just then. A hint of colour bloomed in his pale cheeks.
"Afraid?" He scowled.
Flora reached across the table, her hand approaching his arm to touch him or pinch him, and consequently caused Regulus to sharply move back. The wooden chair scraped loudly across the slate floor as he dodged her. It was mean, she knew it; but she'd had no intention of doing anything at all. It was almost comical and Flora couldn't disguise her satisfaction.
"What do you think you are doing?" He snapped angrily.
"Seeing if you're scared of me. You are."
"Of you?" He scorned, looking absolutely livid.
"Then why did you move back like that?"
"You said you'd rip my bollocks off just a moment ago," he grumbled resentfully. "Do you really expect me to let you near me?"
Flora wasn't sure if he meant it as a joke, but she began to laugh. Regulus' face did not change, however, apart from going slightly pinker. "Why are you laughing?" He demanded.
Flora met his sharp eyes and began to laugh all over again. She covered her mouth in the crook of her elbow, as her hands were now covered in the flour and butter she had just weighed and deposited into the mixing bowl. When she didn't answer his question, he glowered at her angrily and stood up from his chair. "I think I will go upstairs."
Flora, still laughing, shook her head. "Oh, no! Stay! You're actually quite funny."
"I'll not stay here to be laughed at," he snapped back.
"I thought you were making a joke," she returned quickly, still amused.
Regulus stiffened. In truth, some of his annoyance had melted away the moment she asked him to stay. He stared at her, unable to tear his eyes away. But then he remembered himself and narrowed his eyes. "I am not trying to amuse you," he said finally, trying to regain his composure.
"Oh, alright. Go then," she waved her hands at him dismissively, though she didn't sound irritated this time. "It's like having the Grim Reaper sitting at my table anyway."
Regulus' scowl deepened and he skulked off without another word.
Regulus didn't reappear until Sirius and Remus arrived, which was a little after lunchtime. Flora had called Regulus down for lunch - a ham sandwich and a slice of her freshly baked cake - but he'd resolutely ignored her and eventually drifted off to sleep. It had been a while since he'd slept in a proper bed. He woke when he heard his brother's footsteps stomping up the narrow old stairs. Sirius burst in without even knocking, as was customary for him. Regulus rolled over on the bed, rubbing at his eyes. He was surprised to realise he'd actually fully slept, even if it was for a short time; he felt almost refreshed and then a little annoyed that his brother had interrupted his sleep.
Sirius at first stared at his little brother blankly, and then a mocking grin spread across his face. "What? Was Flora being mean to you?"
"What?" Regulus grumbled sleepily, sitting up.
"Flora said you didn't come down for lunch. She thinks you're upset because she laughed at you."
Regulus huffed. "No," he said snippily. "I just didn't want to sit and talk to a muggle. I could feel my brain cells deteriorating during the short conversation we did have."
"Ah," Sirius laughed shortly, "So you're hiding out in her house, having to eat her food that she cooks for you, but you're above having to talk to the poor girl?"
"Why should I have to speak to her?" Regulus frowned. "She's lower than a house elf."
"A house elf is subservient to us," Sirius moved further into the room, glaring slightly at his brother with disapproval. "A muggle is not. I'd say she's handling meeting you way better than you're handling meeting her."
"She's annoying."
"Why? Because she doesn't bow down to your mighty authority?"
"She could treat me with more respect," Regulus glowered.
Sirius snorted. "Why does she need to treat you with respect? You're staying at her house, eating her food, and I imagine she will be cleaning up after you too, all in exchange for absolutely nothing. Why should she have any respect for you, Regulus?"
"Because I'm a pureblood wizard," Regulus retorted with disdain. "She... she is nothing. She's dirt."
Sirius' brow furrowed darkly at this remark. "Her life is just as valuable as your life," he said in a low, furious tone. Below the room in the kitchen, both could hear Flora laughing and talking animatedly with Remus.
"She's inferior."
Sirius took in a sharp breath, trying to calm his anger. He couldn't even look at his brother right now and instead fixed his eyes on the wall ahead of him. The wallpaper was faded in areas where Remus' David Bowie posters used to be pinned up. There was not much left in the room except for a wardrobe, chest of drawers, bed, bedside table and a box of old toys.
"She is not inferior to you, Regulus. She's probably a good deal smarter... and braver than you," he let the last part hang in the air a moment. Regulus tensed. "And clearly she's making you look like a fool," he concluded.
"Fool?" Regulus started angrily. "I'm not a fool."
"If you weren't a fool, you wouldn't be in this situation now, would you?" Sirius snapped back abruptly. "You wouldn't be hiding like this. And now the best you can do is sulk and pout like a child because a muggle isn't grovelling with reverence at your feet. Honestly, I'm not surprised she doesn't take you seriously."
Regulus moved off the bed now and strode towards the doorway angrily.
"Where are you going?" Sirius frowned.
"For a piss," Regulus snapped back. "Leave me alone."
Sirius watched his brother stalk out of the room. He decided not to linger; he didn't have the energy for a lengthy argument after the morning he'd had, so instead he returned downstairs to join Remus and Flora. They were now in the sitting room with a cup of tea each- plus two extra cups of tea on the side, one for Sirius and one for Regulus.
"Is he coming down?" Flora asked as she flipped through her records.
Sirius shrugged, smiling serenely at her. "He's being a moody git. Let him simmer."
The music downstairs carried its way into Regulus' room as he settled back down on his rumpled bed. His anger had not dissipated, but an uneasy feeling was steadily growing in the pit of his stomach. He'd let that girl get under his skin and he knew it. He hated her, and yet his thoughts began to wander as he listened to her laughter below, wondering suddenly if she was laughing about him - if they were all laughing about him. He couldn't bear it. He lay back down on the bed and pulled the quilt over himself, willing himself to drift back to sleep and block out the infuriating noise and that even more infuriating girl.