Hello!
Back again for a new fanfic on my favorite Slytherin, AKA Regulus Black. Mostly inspired from Conan Gray's song, Astronomy.
Short playlist for this fic : playlist/2ZcWM8N94rN9YFnp161ef8?si=fb5bceca7b0e4089
Hope you enjoy !
The Jolly Bard
Chapter 1
"I'm bored."
Leaning against the wall of the Victorian greenhouse, Selene scanned the meddling crowd through the haze of cigarette smoke.
Pretty busy, for an early-year party. Half the Gryffindor tower had come down tonight, accompanied by just as many Hufflepuffs. The Ravenclaw quidditch team hung out in a corner, their captain sharing his drink with a handsy beater. Selene met his eyes, and he sent her a coy smile. She toasted her empty glass back at him.
Snogging in this heat seemed atrocious. Even next to the ajar window, Selene could barely breathe, the dense humidity a harbinger of headaches. A bothersome side effect of the spells used to soundproof and camouflage the decommissioned building to any teacher walking in the vicinity, but which also prevented fresh air from coming in. The body heat coming from the crowd on the dancefloor only made things worse. She wiped her forehead with an open palm, hoping no one would notice the flushness of her skin and the dampness of her hairline.
Bored and sweaty. Delightful.
It came down to this:
1. Leave. The obvious solution, had it not been the quidditch season party launch to which she was socially mandated to attend as Gryffindor captain.
2. Get more drinks. Easy, but might come with undesirable side effects, i.e. recklessness. Already, she felt the twinge of impatience nagging at her stomach.
3. Start a fight.
She narrowed her eyes, considering that third option. On the dancefloor, a handful of Slytherins kept to themselves, as if aware they weren't entirely welcomed. Lucinda Talkalot, their quidditch captain, had been glaring at her all night, waiting for the perfect opportunity to get her wand out. Hypothetically, if Selene had to start a fight, she'd begin there. But duelling while inebriated wasn't wise, and she had promised her friends there wouldn't be any drama tonight.
Said friend, Octavia, took a swig from her butterbeer. "How can you be bored? It's a party."
"Well, it's a boring party."
Every damn week, the same damn events with the same damn people. Even Sisyphus would get insane from so many repetitions.
Selene would take the boulder anytime, if meant she could escape the next ten months and graduate tomorrow. But the school year had only started last week, so she needed to bite down on her impatience and hid her scowl behind pleasant smiles in order to survive the most insignificant year of her life. Who gave a fuck about potions and charms while half her friends were fighting in a war? The faked congeniality, the too cheerful ear-splitting disco music and the cheap alcohol a poor tentative at normalcy. To put it simply, Hogwarts wasn't the same with the Marauders gone.
"You're the one who brought us here." Octavia hooked an arm around the third member of their group, pulling her close. "You've become as well-behaved as our favourite Ravenclaw prefect."
Selene's lips quirked up in response, noting how Aisha's eyes rolled up to the ceiling.
"No, I get it," Aisha said, her gaze riveted to the group of Hufflepuff boys trying to drown as many drinks as possible while levitating upside down, as if they were held from their ankles by an invisible hook. She scrunched her nose in disdain, smoothing the blue tie on her chest. "It's not about the parties, it's about who were invited. I miss our friends."
She too missed Peter's sense of humour and Remus' witty remarks. Sirius' foolishness and James' annoying positivity. She even missed her sister, sometimes. And that was rather telling of how bored she felt. Because Dorcas and she had grown into absolute opposites.
Across Hogwarts' houses, students were eager to become the new popular sensation and fill the power vacuum made by the Marauders' graduation. Useless, really. No matter how thorough the prank or how many detentions they'd receive, none of these pale imitations would ever replace their friends.
The crowd cheered as a fifth year Hufflepuff successfully swallowed a glass of Firewhisky in a headstand without the need for the levitating spell.
The Ravenclaw offered Selene a considerate smile. "Surely they wouldn't want us to waste our seventh year moping their absence."
"You can always join Slug's club," Octavia added with a shrug, pushing her dirty blonde hair behind her shoulder. "If you fancy snobbish quartets and seafood, that is."
"Honestly? I'll take Slughorn's party over another party of having to listen to 'Night Fever'."
Octavia gasped. "Selene! You can't say things like that!" She looked around, as if James Potter could somehow jump from the shadows and banish her from the quidditch team for blaspheming against his favourite music band.
Good thing she was the captain now.
Selene's grin withered when a sudden commotion at the entrance of the building turned conversations into whispers. Expecting a teacher, she was about to vanish the alcohol bottles when she noticed who towered above the rest of the crowd.
Barty Crouch. And he wasn't alone. Behind him, a crew of Slytherins made their way through the sea of people, a moving mass of haughty looks and unwelcomed sneering faces. Their green ties clashed so drastically with the rest of the crowd; one might have thought they kept them on deliberately.
"What are they doing here?"
Octavia already had her wand out at the ready, like several students nearby.
No fights had broken out since the school year began. Last year, one couldn't make two steps outside of their common room before stumbling on a Slytherin cursing a Gryffindor, and vice versa. Yet strangely, the castle corridors had stayed peaceful between classes. Tension was bound to implode at some point. Even Selene, with all her mediating efforts, had almost succumbed to the temptation.
Then Evan Rosier lit a cigarette. Cordelia Greengrass led a couple of Slytherin girls to the middle of the room, swishing her hips and dark silky hair as she started dancing.
Octavia's mouth hauled wide open, her butterbeer and wand forgotten in her hands. Aisha looked like she'd been struck, and she exchanged a dumfounded look with Selene.
These pureblood Slytherins never dared join their parties. Never.
It must have been a ruse somehow. A way to get the advantage, to attack drunk student unable to fight back. Greengrass spined on herself, arms up in the air, her other friends giggling and pulling the boys towards the dancefloor. People shook out of their torpor, and as the tension decreased, the Hufflepuffs boys got back to their drinking game.
Although Selene would never admit it, she admired their boldness as the Slytherins went about their business, ignoring the others' glares.
Didn't mean she trusted them, though.
In the next moment, Selene was striding across the dancefloor, wandering closer to the party crashers. She lingered between the dancing bodies, hoping to get an earful of their conversations, but the music was too loud to catch anything interesting. When Rosier nodded to her, his lips pinched on his cigarette, she nodded back, then continued on her way. Lest she wanted to make conversation with any of them, or worse, be caught spying. Rosier himself, she didn't really mind, but his friends… she tried to stay away.
Someone had displayed several bottles on the improvised bar, which was nothing more than a table between two desiccated venomous tentacula. Long dead, like the cactus on her nightstand in the Gryffindor tower. Selene sniffed a couple of firewhisky bottles and chose one that smelled the most like smoke.
The liquid scorched her throat as it went down, stirring uncomfortably in her stomach. Ugh. Her mouth watered in protest.
She poured another two fingers in her glass, to sip this time. On the dancefloor, familiar notes had students screaming in delight, but Selene ground her teeth together.
"I swear, if I have to listen to this song one more time—" she mumbled under her breath, eyes darting to the record player.
She cocked her head, taking her wand out. Perhaps if she sent a Confringo from here, nobody would notice where it came from. It was far, though, and the room too crowded. Students could walk into her spell anytime. Minor risks of burns for the people around… but nothing Pomfrey couldn't fix. Her jaw clenched harder as the high notes of 'Night Fever' chorus were repeated by drunk students on the dancefloor.
At least if people could sing… it wouldn't be so painful to listen.
"20 galleons you can't make it."
At the sound of his voice behind her, she spun.
Regulus Black, draped in his usual aristocratic sophistication, glanced at the record player, then at the wand in her hand, wearing that cursed sneering smirk on his lips. Selene should have known he'd be there when she saw Rosier and Crouch; the three of them were joined at the hip.
Her dark eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"
No need to pretend to be polite. He would see right through her fake manners. He always did.
"Same as you." He brandished an empty glass, reaching for the bottle she discarded.
"I mean here."
"Can't I simply enjoy a night of debauchery with terrible music and—" Black read the label and grimaced. "Cheap alcohol?"
The contempt in his voice had her entrails boiling. No one in their right mind would believe Regulus Black had anything to care for a dancing party. Or bloody Barty Crouch.
"Do you think I'm an idiot? You hate people."
He shrugged, swirling the Firewhisky in his glass. His dark hair had grown since last year, but not too long as to remind her of Sirius. Both Black looked outstandingly debonair, but Sirius distanced himself from his brother's elegance by dressing like these popular rock stars with his leather jacket and tight jeans. Regulus had none of Sirius' casualness. And nothing, nothing of his appearance, was improvised.
From the tousled curls to the finery of his pants—a careful calculation. The two undone buttons of his shirt. Silvers jewels adorning his fingers and wrists. Even the glint in his blue-grey eyes, too intentional to be genuine.
His beauty tended to get stuck in her throat, suffocating her.
Real shame the man was an asshole.
Black's smile turned as cool as the glass between her fingers. "Relax, Meadowes. We're just here for a little fun."
"Your idea of fun is quite different from mine."
"I think you'd be surprised."
She didn't take the bait and ask him to elaborate. That's what he wanted. Black only engaged in arguments if he knew for sure he'd win. Selene had argued enough with him during the past seven years to recognize a lost cause from the start.
Instead of going back to his friends, he lingered, watching her with a dash of playfulness, as if he were waiting for her to send that bloody Confringo across the room. Black had never been as taciturn as the other Slytherins that gravitated around him, but he was nevertheless far from being a social human being—unlike Evan Rosier—which made his cordiality even more singular.
Because Black was not a cordial person. Ever.
She stared suspiciously, hand still gripping her wand. "Are you high?"
"You're the one trying to burn the place down."
Her eyes rolled up in annoyance. "Only that Bee Gees record, not the whole greenhouse."
"Have you thought—I don't know—about asking them not to play it? Or stealing it?"
"Since when are you the voice of reason?"
Black smirked. "Evan thinks I'm wise."
"Rosier also thinks the giant squid is Dumbledore's animagus."
He laughed, and she knocked her drink back, forgetting her previous intent to sip it. Prideful, arrogant Black? Yeah, she could deal with him, hands tied behind her back. No problem. But that Black? He made her edgy, and she didn't like it. The man had too many personalities, switching between them like the flip of a coin.
He noted the index tapping on her glass. "No need to be nervous. We're not here to duel anyone. You want to know the truth?"
She nodded, leaning forward to catch his words over the blasting music. Black's eyes flashed with mischief, and only then did she notice the slight tilt of his head for her to come closer.
Like an idiot, she did.
"I was bored." His grey eyes met hers, knowing. "Thought we could stop by, see what the hype was all about."
Disbelief laced her words. "You're the one who decided to crash our party?"
"We're not… crashing it. We're trying to enjoy it."
A loud cheer at the opposite side of the building announced that another Hufflepuff had drunk his entire butterbeer while hanging upside down. Black didn't even spare them a look.
She raised an unconvinced eyebrow. "Are you? Seems like this whole thing is too… uncivilised for you."
For you, purebloods. She left the word pending, unwilling to break the tense truce the two houses had achieved since the return to Hogwarts.
He raised his still full glass, impish. "Depends. Are you sticking around?"
Selene allowed him a dirty look, and he laughed again, inclining his head in surrender as she walked away. Who did he think she was? Stick around him all night? Yes. He must have been high as fuck.
She ignored the tingle of reason telling her Black seemed completely sober.
Even worse.
Aisha and Octavia were already on the dancefloor, screaming the lyrics of an ABBA song. Without looking over her shoulder despite the sensation of being stared at, she joined them, zigzagging between bodies.
The music was deafening. Bass notes resounded up her body in rhythmic waves, leaving her with the annoying sensation that her internal organs were being reorganized. Her friends did not notice the unusual rigidity in her movements that betrayed her faked nonchalance.
Black had lost his damn mind. His entire group of friends had.
Crouch and Rosier now stood with Greengrass and the other girls on the dancefloor. They were all dancing. Laughing. Black didn't dance—the simple idea of it preposterous—but he lingered near the others, watching. Greengrass was running her hands down Rosier's chest, who indulged with a smirk, until Crouch slithered between them and sent the girl away. Rosier's expression turned roguish.
Notes of a popular rock song drew her attention away from the party crashers, and Aisha grabbed her hand for a spin. Selene giggled, fanning her face with her palm for a draft of air in the stuffy room. Christ, it was hot. Clothes stuck to her figure and her head spun, despite not having drunk too much. Aisha grinned, her perfect smile lighting the room, one that disappeared the moment Octavia leaned on her.
Her complexion had turned greenish, her blonde fringe sticking to her forehead.
"I don't feel good."
"Out," Aisha said. "Now."
The three women coursed through the crowd, hoping the fresh air would do Octavia some good.
It didn't. As soon as they were outside, the Gryffindor took a few steps away and threw up the content of her stomach in a bush, holding her hair up herself like a pro. Every damn Friday, the same routine. Octavia had never learnt how to drink.
Aisha rubbed her friend's back. "Are you both ready to leave?"
"Selene can't miss the launch." Octavia called out from the bush.
Indeed. James had threatened not to give the Captain badge to her if she ever so much as hinted at not attending the event. The curse for boycotting the midnight annual launch? A terrible quidditch season. Since this was her first and only season as a captain, she wouldn't take the risk.
James would have her head if another team won the cup this year.
"It's fine," Selene said, nudging them in the castle's direction. Octavia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "You two go. I'll see you tomorrow."
Octavia, still green, flicked her eyes to the entrance. "Are you sure?"
"I won't stay long. Promise. And I'll behave."
As her friends walked away, Selene wondered if they believed her.
She craved a cigarette. Where was Remus when one needed him?
Loud music rammed into her as soon as she passed the greenhouse threshold. Careful not to wander too close to a certain group on the dancefloor, Selene made a wide detour to reach her teammates without leaving the green and silver out of her sight.
Like a prowling tiger, Lucinda popped in front of her. Despite the contempt on her face, her lips twitched with satisfaction at ambushing her alone. On her chest, the green quidditch captain badge glimmered in the fairy lights.
Selene plastered a fake smile on her mouth. She'll behave if others also behaved. Option three remained beyond the realm of possibility.
"Lucinda, always a pleasure. Are you here for the launch?"
"Why else would I be here for?"
A few members of the Gryffindor team ambled closer. Clearly, they didn't trust Selene not to hex the Slytherin's captain.
Please. She had lost control once three years ago. And it wasn't even her fault. The sneaky bitch had thrown a bludger at her after Selene had caught the snitch during the season's finale, giving the well-deserved victory to the red and golds. Naturally, Selene had retaliated by shoving the Slytherin's face into the pitch's mud. Twice.
"Good." Selene had to force the words out of her mouth, trying to be cordial. "I heard it's bad luck to boycott the launch, anyway."
"We don't need luck to win," the Slytherin said with the haughty arrogance proper to her house, which never failed to bring Selene's temper to the surface.
That little sneer was all it took to go back to her old habits. It was instinctual. Written so deep inside her DNA that she couldn't even stop the smugness from transpiring on her face.
"Since when? You've lost all your matches last year."
"Your team of children has no chance of making it through this season in one piece. They were bold to name you Captain."
Her fingers itched to draw her wand out at the threat. But she had to give a good example to her teammates. Remain calm and professional.
"Listen. I get it. First opportunity for Slytherin to win a cup in five years." Selene shrugged, fighting the anger bubbling under her skin. "In your shoes, I too would hang on to any hope of winning. Too bad we're still there."
"With Potter gone, you have absolutely no chance." The Slytherin's captain retorted with a cruel smile. "I heard he turned down an offer from Puddlemere. Refusing to play pro, to get himself ki—"
Her wand was at Lucinda's throat in an instant.
"Finish that sentence. I fucking dare you."
Excellent control, Selene. Fantastic.
Attracted by trouble, Rosier and Greengrass promptly appeared by their captain's side, wands out. Black came closer too, arms crossed on his chest. The rest of the Slytherin team wasn't in the greenhouse, but it didn't prevent Crouch and the others from coming closer, alert. Behind her, her teammates pointed their wand toward the newcomers.
Lucinda shot sideways glances at those who joined her. Her smile turned feral.
"What? Hits too close to home? What's your sister becoming these days? Is she dead already?"
A spark erupted from Selene's wand, at the same time a shield flared up between the groups. Its near-opaque white hue deflected the spell, which crashed on the glass ceiling instead. Lucinda retaliated, useless with the shield in place. Wands rushed out of pockets. Dancing stopped. The third year Selene had recruited as a chaser—Michael—pointed his wand straight at Crouch's face, who dangerously smirked at the boy. Michael had guts, she had to give it to him.
In the background, an idiot had put back on the Bee Gees record.
Her eyes found Black, and only then did she notice he held the shield in place. His attempt at defusing the tension shocked her so much that she lowered her wand, even with Lucinda shrieking at the seeker.
"Get. It. Down."
"Calm down, Lucy." Evan Rosier intervened, pulling on Lucinda's wrist.
She pushed Rosier out of the way. "Get off! Regulus, get the fucking shield down."
Black didn't move. He gave his captain an exasperated look, as if to say: are we really doing this? To her astonishment, Black and Rosier weren't the only ones hoping to avoid conflict. Several Slytherins lowered their wands, and Greengrass sighed, complaining about only dancing for an hour.
"Come on," Rosier drawled, pleading. "I don't want to get kicked out. Just take it out on the pitch."
Behind her, her teammates hummed with dark excitement, their angry whispers a constant buzz in her ears. Selene cringed. This confrontation was her fault. Lucinda should be proud; few people could get under her skin that easily.
"We're not kicking anyone out," she claimed, loud enough to cover the atrocious disco music. She shushed her teammates' complaints with a raised hand. "We have more than enough room for everyone. But," she glared at the blonde captain. "Being more polite wouldn't hurt."
Lucinda opened her mouth to protest, but Rosier stepped in front of her, giving Selene a sharp nod.
"We'll do. Lucy? Go get yourself a drink."
Black only lowered the shield when she nodded at him. When she turned to face the rest of her team, she wasn't surprised to see incomprehension stirring underneath their furrowed eyebrows.
"They should leave." Louie, their keeper, said. "James would never have let them come here."
"I bought ourselves some peace."
Hopefully this would last, and none of her players would get cursed in the hallways before the match next week. Were it not for Black's intervention, Selene might have signed the end of the tensed truce between the two houses. She hated herself for it. Despite condemning James and Sirius' bigotry, there she was, carrying their hateful legacy in their absence. A mistake she didn't intend on repeating.
Another player pressed on. "They don't belong here. Talkalot started all this. I saw her."
"What did you want me to do? I won't banish all of them just because she's a dumb tart." She threw both arms in the air. "It's just a bloody party. Let people have fun."
War would catch up on all of them soon enough. Selene didn't plan on waging her own within these walls in the meantime.
The Hufflepuff captain, a known muggle born who had spent more days last year in the infirmary than out, nodded in acknowledgment. "To be fair, I do enjoy walking between classes without being cursed. I like that truce."
"Alright," the Ravenclaw captain agreed, grinning charmingly at her. "Although I never thought I would live to hear a Gryffindor say such a thing."
Selene gave them both a sharp look. "I am not James Potter."
Not that she didn't care about the war. Her own sister stood on the front line. But she had witnessed so many events at Hogwarts where one party or the other could have simply walked away without escalating the divide. Selene aimed to mend bridges, not dig the trench deeper.
Still nearby, Black, Rosier and Crouch were monitoring Lucinda from a distance, ensuring she'd behave. Black glanced at her and nudged his head in the opposite direction, far away from the captain.
And the rest of the crowd.
Damn it.
Perhaps he had enchanted me with the Imperius curse, Selene thought, as her feet moved her body in his direction. It was the only logical explanation behind her irrational decisions.
It clearly wasn't the whisky's fault. Nor the fact that Black was so damn untouchable that she couldn't help but be… intrigued.
Her boredom wilted away with her next exhale, like it never existed.
"Thanks for stepping in," she said once they were away from the crowd. "It was the mature thing to do."
"I thought you had the situation under control. But again, I often underestimate the impulsivity of Gryffindors."
"She makes me on edge." The only truth she would admit. Dorcas' name died on her lips.
"Lucy can strike exactly where it hurts. You can imagine the nightmare of our practices."
"Still," she noted, glimpsing at him as they walked toward a round stone table with a big bowl on top. "Duelling a dozen people might have helped with your boredom."
He settled against a pillar, watching her fill two glasses of fruity punch. His fingers grazed the dittany leaves, which climbed around the wooden structure, and his silver rings caught a sparkle of light.
"Sending half your team to the infirmary before we've had the chance to defeat you on the pitch? Where's the fun in that? Plus, it wouldn't be a true victory."
"Always an ulterior motive."
"Are you expecting any less?"
"No," she admitted with a pointed look, handing him a drink. "Never from you."
"I'll take the compliment."
For the briefest of moment, the steel of his eyes warmed.
Melin saves her.
Her retort died in her throat.
So did her willingness to behave.
Black sniffed his beverage, then swirled it in the light of a candle, observing its red hue. "What is it?"
"I'm not trying to poison you. It's just vodka punch." Selene grasped his glass, taking a sip from it before giving it back.
His first sip drew a complicit smile out of him. "We can't taste the vodka at all. This is dangerous."
She laughed at the irony. Right now, in this dark, deserted corner of the greenhouse, it wasn't the punch that was dangerous. Selene was no better than a mouse, walking straight into the trap just to get a bite. Forget the lion of her house. That damn curiosity would be the end of her.
The beverage tainted his lips red.
"So, what's your verdict?" she asked him, forcing her gaze to wander anywhere else but his mouth with little success. "Surely, you've seen enough by now to realize Gryffindors' parties tops Slytherins'… Do you even have parties?"
"Oh, we do. In the Slytherin common room. They're different, a lot more…"
"Posh?"
He almost smiled. "Sophisticated."
"Like I said."
"I've seen worse," he admitted. "The music is too loud, and the liquor terrible, but this?" Black took another sip. "This is good. Although way too sweet."
"Ah! It's a Gryffindor recipe," she said with pride. "It's deliberately sweet to keep people awake longer. And this is exactly what I need."
"If you're tired, why don't you leave? Let someone else in your team do the launch."
Easy question, with an easier answer.
Because I'm not bored anymore.
Alcohol loosened tongues. She knew it too well, so she bit hers, hoping to swallow the words. But people as observant as Regulus Black did not need any words to know the truth. Her face spoke loud enough, and he saw it all.
Without as much as a questioning glance, he stepped into her personal space.
"Or you're just having too much of a good time."
Selene's senses got sidetracked by his musky cologne, her eyes dropping from his face to wander where the collar of his shirt opened on his skin. Useless to deny it, at this point. His complacent-self had already noticed the hitch in her breathing.
"Don't let it get to your head."
"It's not my ego you should be concerned about."
"I know whom I'm dealing with."
"Do you?"
Instincts urged her to step back, to dodge his luring gaze and make him swallow back his flirty remarks. It felt so wrong. Illegal. Her heart rushed with excitement.
"I know what kind of man you are, Black."
She should back up. Leave. Run away and never look back. Yet he took another step and her feet remained planted in place. Her chin lifted to maintain eye contact.
"Your friends would disapprove."
"Good thing they aren't here."
Selene wasn't brave, like most other Gryffindors, neither reckless nor daring. But there was one trait she did share with the founder of her house.
Impulsivity.
So she chose the only viable option. The fourth one.
She kissed him.
This isn't my finest moment, she thought, as soon as her mouth pressed into his. Definitely not, as her empty hand found his chest, sliding down. Damn, his shirt is soft.
She wished she'd seen Regulus Black frozen with shock, for once in his life. How wide his eyes should have become. How tensed his jaw should have been. She would have delighted in being the cause of his surprise—of him, the man who saw everything.
All pointless desires.
Black had known the conclusions from the very first flirty remark, and when she kissed him, he barely contained his smirk.
Selene was vaguely aware of him putting his drink away before both of his hands were on her. Nails scratched her scalp while the hand at her back brought her closer, flattening her body against his, turning this simple, drunken snog into something… more.
Her lips parted, and an instant later his tongue met hers, lascivious and dangerous like she'd hoped it would be. Bloody fatal. The taste of him was decadent; sweet like the punch and smoky like that cheap whisky. Her fingers locked in his shirt as he tilted her head back for better access. Goodness. He was drinking her in.
He pulled her even closer, his hand dropping to her ass, and all her attention shifted to the hardness pressing against her lower abdomen. Despite her best attempts at repressing it, the breathy moan left her throat anyway.
Their lips separated, just enough to feel the hint of his arrogant smile brush her mouth. Asshole.
The smirk was still there when he closed the distance between them again. Black gave another indecent stroke of his tongue against hers that had her legs falter. He pulled her slightly to the side, taking advantage of her destabilized balance to slide a thigh between her legs. The lewd friction forced another sound to leave her body against her will. Yet this time, he responded with one of his kind, which came right from the back of his throat.
The sound overcame what remained of her reservations. Her hips rolled forward, pressing harder against him while the tips of her fingers slipped between the buttons of his shirt to meet skin.
Would he let her run a hand through his hair to destroy these perfect curls?
A waterfall of liquid brought them apart suddenly. Selene blinked once, twice. Then noted the now empty glass in her hand, the one she had forgotten.
"Shit."
Black glanced between them, taking in the red, wet stain of the punch drenching half of his crisp white shirt. He looked absolutely exquisite, with his chest heaving from the rapid breathing going through his swollen lips. Never mind the sugary mess; she wanted to kiss him again. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, then lower.
His thigh was still between her legs.
Familiar heat pooled down her stomach, leaving her breathless. Men like him had no business making her feel such… lust.
He steadied her as she shifted away from him, forbidding herself to let another sound escape her lips. On the dancefloor, people cheered. Selene took a quick glance around them, heart pounding, remembering how this shouldn't have happened. How her entire house would revolt knowing who she just made out with. Not one student was staring at them now, but it didn't mean nobody saw their very public display.
Unbothered by his surroundings, Black slid a hand on his wet shirt. "Weird way of asking me to undress."
"When I want you naked, Black, I won't have to scheme you into it."
It opened a door, and he walked right through it.
"When?" The Slytherin raised a cocky eyebrow.
She ignored him, taking out her wand. A quick recurvite got rid of the stain on his shirt, but dampness remained. Aware that a heating charm was too tricky to be attempted on oneself for risks of burns, Black resigned himself to simply rolling his sleeves out of the way.
"Let me."
Her hands didn't shake, her folds precise, as she rolled his sleeve up to his elbow. Selene tried her best to forgo the feeling of his skin beneath her fingers, how the mere contact scorched her.
How this contact wasn't enough.
Damn you, Black, for putting all these improper thoughts inside my head.
Without looking away from her face, his attention unfaltering, he extended his other arm, waiting for her to step back. She caught his left wrist. The muscles in his arm tensed enough to be noticeable.
Selene applied the same level of professionalism as she rolled his other sleeve upward. She was only two folds in when she withdrew her hands, letting his arm drop.
It was there. Right on his left forearm, where she knew it would be. Branded on his skin with a red-hot iron.
For a few ridiculous minutes, she had forgotten that he had it. Or hoped that they were only rumours, spread equally by detractors and admirers of Voldemort. Only half of it was discernible, but Selene had seen enough drawings of the skull and snake to know what the Dark Mark looked like.
Black did not apologize. Instead, he took care of rolling his sleeve himself, his gaze still stuck on her, until the entire mark appeared.
Then, with two fingers under her chin, he brought her eyes back to his.
"Having seconds thoughts?"
She glared; tongue sharp. "Give me a bloody moment."
"Don't fake being taken aback. You knew it was there before throwing yourself at me." His eyes dropped for a moment back to her lips.
Of course, she'd known Black was marked. Well, she had guessed it after Sirius had turned the common room upside down with his rage one day last year after a public argument with his brother. And she'd seen the respect emanating from some of the Slytherins while they followed him around like lapdogs.
But still. She hadn't seen it. It wasn't tangible. Now that it was there, exposed to her view, she no longer had an excuse.
If she succumbed again, it would be with undisputable awareness.
His thumb grazed her chin with a languid pressure. Ensnared, she leaned her head forward, praying for a spark of common sense to break her trance.
If Selene were wise, she'd be a Ravenclaw.
When people cheered at the other end of the greenhouse again, signifying time to launch the Quidditch season, she jolted back and left with the exiting crowd without a word of goodbye.
But like a fool, she looked over her shoulder.
Black knocked his drink back.