CHAPTER NINE: THE WALTZ

Flora didn't so much as have a headache when she woke up the following morning, but her mouth was dry and she felt a little dizzy. She was laying on her belly with one arm wrapped around her pillow. Down the hallway she could hear the pipes groaning, meaning Regulus was washing or showering in the bathroom. She shut her eyes again for a moment, groggy, but desperately wanting a drink. After a few minutes of deliberation, she heaved herself up, pulled her dressing gown and slippers on and slouched across the room to her door. Regulus opened the bathroom door at exactly the same moment. They stood face-to-face.

"Oh, not again," Flora grumbled, averting her eyes. "Would you please put a shirt on."

Regulus cast a dark look at her. He was only wearing his jeans again, but had left his shirt in his bedroom while he washed and brushed his teeth. He wordlessly swept across the hallway to his room, shutting the door behind him. Flora then continued her path downstairs to the kitchen, mindlessly putting the kettle on and then filling up a glass of water.

It was the first of October. Flora flipped over the calendar on the wall while she waited for the kettle to boil, studying a scenic autumn picture that portrayed that month. Outside looked very much the same as in the picture; the trees around the cottage were all in colour, as was the ground where leaves of red, orange and yellow hues had fallen. The dark, grey sky seemed to hang very low over the mountains in the distance.

Regulus appeared now, fully dressed; he didn't greet Flora, except for a small grunt, and he went to look out the window. The kettle finished boiling and Flora set to work making tea.

"Do you want one?" Flora asked a little begrudgingly.

"Huh?" He didn't turn or look at her.

"A cup of tea."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

He looked at her now, frowning. "Yes, please, if you'd be so kind," he said sarcastically.

"Manners cost nothing," Flora replied shortly. She took down a second mug from the cupboard.

"Yeah, well they're wasted on you," he said haughtily, turning back to look out the window.

Flora put the mug back. She didn't say a word while she continued to make a cup of tea for herself; she walked off into the living room, softly blowing the steam off her cup, and sat down in her usual spot. Regulus turned as she passed by, looking for the cup of tea he expected to see sitting on the table. He followed her to the living room, frowning when he still couldn't see his drink anywhere.

"Where's mine?" He demanded.

"You were rude, so I changed my mind," Flora said simply. "Make it yourself."

Regulus' jaw clenched. A month ago, he would've argued to hell and back with her, but this now didn't seem the best plan of action.

"Fine," he snapped back. "I will then."

"Go on then."

Regulus skulked back into the kitchen, his mind firmly set on this mission. He knew where the mugs were, so he took down the same one Flora had set down for him earlier. When he returned with his cup of tea a few minutes later, looking rather pleased with himself, Flora got up to inspect his work.

She snorted. "What's that? Fish water?"

It was the palest, milkiest tea Flora had ever set eyes on. Regulus scowled and took a sip of the awful, lukewarm concoction, fighting hard not to look dismayed.

"It's fine," he said stiffly.

"It astounds me, you know, that you can make potions and god-knows-what, but you can't make a cup of tea."

"I said it's fine," he repeated firmly.

She rolled her eyes. "I'll make you one when I've finished mine."

Privately grateful for this, Regulus sat down at his end of the sofa and put the awful cup of tea aside. He preoccupied himself with staring out the window again, shivering a little as the wind picked up and blew a cold draught down the chimney.

"It's cold in here," he complained.

"Anything else?" Flora replied.

"What?" He frowned.

"Anything else you'd like to complain about?"

"At least a hundred."

"Is that all?"

"Well, at least a hundred and one now, if I add you to the list," he retorted sharply.

"You mean I wasn't on it before?" Flora replied, slightly amused. She was at the other end of the sofa and she stretched her legs out, her slippered feet just touching his leg. Somewhat instinctively, he stiffened and moved his leg, but then relaxed a beat later and simply allowed it.

He locked his gaze on the window again as the draught fluttered the white curtains, ignoring her, but still intensely aware of her. He could see from the corner of his eye that she was alternately drinking tea and water. She then sighed, rubbing her face.

"Fancy a bacon sandwich?" She asked.

Regulus nodded. "And don't forget about my cup of tea."

"Of course not, your great eminence," Flora replied as she got up.

They ate breakfast together in relative peace, and Flora lit the fire in the living room. There were radiators in the cottage, but they never seemed to do much good. The warmest place in the house was the front room when the fire was going; so they both sat together in front of it, still a few feet apart, but as close enough as a friend might sit.

"I might go for a walk," Regulus said when Flora had cleared all the breakfast plates and cups away. The sun had started to come out and was shining through the window, enhancing the auburn tones in Flora's long hair. An involuntary thought briefly raced across Regulus' mind, one which acknowledged in that moment just how beautiful she really was. He firmly turned the thought out of his head at once, but he still lingered, waiting for her response.

"Alright," Flora said. She was covering up some of the food that had been left out last night and wiping down the kitchen table.

"Do you…" he cleared his throat softly, the thought of walking with her suddenly appealing, "do you want to join?"

Flora's eyes flickered up to meet his, her surprise readable. "Join you?"

"Yes," he shrugged, feigning a look of nonchalance. "You suggested it once before."

"You nearly ripped my hand off when I did."

"I'm aware of that. You remind me at every opportunity," he answered curtly, his usual scowl returning to darken his expression. He didn't like being reminded of how harshly he'd treated her. He regretted it, but he'd apologised and that was surely enough.

"Fine then," Flora replied after a moment, throwing the tea towel aside. "The fresh air will do me good. But give me twenty minutes to get ready."

"I'll wait here."

The walk started off in a tense, thick silence. At the same time, there was a sense of electricity between them. Flora felt it; Regulus felt it. There was a small thrill in the fact that they were actually doing something together. Regulus kept his arms at his sides, hands buried deep in his coat pockets; his expression was stony but his eyes darted around as he walked, looking up at the sky or watching a squirrel run through the crisp leaves and up trees. He looked anywhere but at Flora, trying to act unaffected by her presence. Flora likewise avoided his eye, her hands also tucked into her pockets as she walked alongside him. They were walking in the woods near the cottage, well-within their confines.

After a few agonising minutes of silence, Regulus finally spoke. His tone was soft, cautious:

"It's a nice day," he said.

"Mhm," Flora agreed, kicking up leaves under her feet.

Regulus kicked a few leaves as well. He'd always loved doing that as a child, liking the sound they made. The autumn sky above was bright blue; the greyness from earlier gone like it'd never been there.

"You must have a headache from all that wine you drank last night," he said after another minute of silence had passed between them.

"It's going," Flora replied with a shrug.

"And the fire whiskey," he added a little pointlessly.

"Mm.." She hummed. She looked at one of the trees ahead of them. Regulus was just about ready to accept the silence between them until Flora added, "I've never had so much fun dancing though."

The recollection of her dancing with Sirius flashed through Regulus' mind. He grimaced, turning to look at her. "If you enjoy dancing with my idiot brother, perhaps I should be even more worried about your mental state."

Flora laughed. "He's a good dancer."

"All I saw was a drunken buffoon."

"Well, it wasn't exactly music for waltzing to, Regulus," Flora said, inclining her head towards him now and looking at him. "Is that how you dance? Do you waltz?"

"I can waltz," he sniffed.

"Oh, show me then," Flora stopped in her tracks.

"What?" He blinked.

"Show me."

"Certainly not," he replied snippily.

"Oh, please!" She pouted. "I've always wanted to learn."

"No," he said firmly. "Don't be so ridiculous."

"We've got so much time to learn things though," she urged. "And perhaps if we did more things together… perhaps we could get along better."

"I very much doubt that."

"Please."

Regulus regarded her, his resolve weakening. She stood close to his arm, gazing up at him with imploring, wide eyes.

"There's no room to dance here," he said finally, glancing around them at the narrow path they currently stood upon.

"We'll go back to the garden."

"And there's no music."

"We can imagine it."

She had a solution for everything and the fight in Regulus was weakening. Her being a muggle seemed to matter less and less; like it or not, he was stuck with her, and she made a fair point in saying they should and could try to get along better. It seemed only Regulus was the one constantly in a sour mood; Flora could live with him and his ridiculous airs because she had a sense of humour, otherwise she might've been just as unpleasant. Regulus could humour her if for nothing better than to make his time here easier. Before Regulus could fully reason with his sensibilities, he was back in the front garden standing face-to-face with the girl he was supposed to despise, preparing to show her the waltz.

"You take your place slightly to the left, not directly in front of me," he began, correcting their position. "There're six basic steps. Keep your upper body straight."

Flora nodded, moving an inch to the left of him and at once straightening up. She smiled at him. Regulus swallowed thickly and took a small step closer, hesitantly taking hold of her hand and placing his other hand on her waist. His stomach flipped uncomfortably; her hand was so soft and small.

"Where do I put my other hand?" Flora asked. She felt suddenly quite nervous by their close proximity; it occurred to her just how clean he smelled. It was a fresh, nondescript scent, mingled with the autumn air around them. Regulus, likewise, could smell her; he noticed her perfume, a light floral scent that matched her namesake.

"On my shoulder."

Flora placed her hand on his shoulder as instructed and waited for him to continue.

"Erm, so now," he began, "the idea is something called the box step. The man leads. I'm going to step forward with my left foot, so you step back on your right foot."

He did exactly as he said, looking down at their feet as they took the first step. "Now step to the side with your left foot," he instructed, as he did the opposite.

"Oh, I'm not very coordinated," Flora fretted as they finished and closed the first box step. Regulus was leading her, holding her up firmly and moving so swiftly she grew confused and stumbled.

"Try it again," Regulus said patiently.

"Go more slowly."

He showed her and explained it again, repeating the steps over and over until Flora was moving with greater ease. She kept her eyes downwards on the ground, watching both her feet and Regulus' feet.

"Don't look at the floor," Regulus said. "You'll confuse yourself. Look at me."

Flora looked at him and Regulus felt his stomach tie up in knots. She smiled brightly at him, pleased with herself now she was getting the hang of the steps.

"Am I doing it right?" She asked.

Regulus broke away, stepping back. "Satisfactory, I'd say."

"That means very good then, if I've reached that standard by you," Flora smirked. She stretched her arms out to grab his hands again. "I want to keep practising!"

"No," Regulus said abruptly, frowning. "I'm cold. I want to go inside."

"Cold? How on earth can you be cold?" Flora replied. "I'm too hot after all that."

"Isn't it lunch time?" He said.

Flora looked at her watch briefly, shrugging. "A little past lunch time. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, quite."

"There's some quiche and chicken left over from last night. Shall we have that?"

"Fine," he grumbled, turning away from her to stride back into the cottage. Flora watched him skulk away, a little bewildered.

Much like their walk had started, lunch was also a silent affair. Flora had fully recovered from her small hangover and occasionally tried to engage in conversation with him, but Regulus never really did make a good meal companion. He remained sullen and impassive, as usual. That was until she brought Sirius up, at least.

"Can Sirius dance like that too?" She asked.

Regulus, whose brow had until this moment remained neutral, now darkened somewhat. "Yes. We were both taught how to waltz," he replied coolly.

"So posh," she said.

"Sirius always made a mockery of anything we were taught," Regulus said, stabbing at a piece of pastry on his plate. It was obvious to Flora that he didn't approve of his brother's behaviour.

"Well, you have to have a laugh, don't you?" Flora replied carefully.

"There's a time and place for everything. Sirius was an embarrassment too often."

"Oh, don't be so miserable. He's too charming to be embarrassing."

"He is not charming," Regulus snorted, fixing his gaze on her intensely. "He's an idiot."

"If it wasn't for Sirius, you wouldn't be here," Flora said.

"Yes, he's got me shackled up with a muggle," Regulus scoffed. "How terribly clever of him."

"Well what's the alternative?" Flora felt her irritation rising. "No one else wanted you. It was a good idea, really. I'm sorry I happen to be a horrible muggle, but I've let you stay in my home and I've cooked your meals and cleaned up after you like I'm a bloody a house elf and—"

Flora stopped. To her surprise, his mouth had curled into an amused smile. Flora's scowl deepened.

"Why are you smiling like that?" She demanded. "Stop it."

"I seem to have struck a nerve."

"Oh, you've struck more than just a nerve," Flora replied smartly.

"You're very defensive about my brother, aren't you?"

"What are you talking about?" Her cheeks bloomed softly as she realised what he was implying.

"You always get riled up when I say unkind things about Sirius."

"That's not true. I get riled up when you say anything."

He shrugged, scraping the crumbs on his plate to one side. "So if I praised and agreed with you, you'd still be angry?"

"Probably."

"Your hair looks nice."

"You're so stupid," Flora rolled her eyes and snatched up the empty plates, but she couldn't help smiling just a little.

"That's perhaps the weakest insult you've given me since I got here."

"You want me to insult you?" Flora looked over her shoulder as she deposited the plates into the sink.

"Later maybe," he said, leaning back in his chair and yawning a little as he stretched. "I'm going to lie down."

"Not until these dishes are clean, you're not," she threw a tea towel at his face. "Come here and dry. You can manage two plates and two cups."

His usual scowl returned at this abrupt order, but he sidled up to her by the sink and watched as she cleaned and rinsed the plates. He sulkily dried them as she handed them to him one at a time, then wasted no time in rushing off upstairs before she could rope him into any other domestic tasks, leaving Flora glowing with a sense of achievement.