CHAPTER SIX: TEARS
"One week today," Remus said one chilly morning as he folded his long, gangly legs under him on the sofa, a cup of tea cradled in his hands. It was the very morning that marked one week since Regulus arrived. "Are you going to let him stay?" He asked it like he was asking whether she was going to adopt a stray animal she'd found.
Flora was still in her pyjamas, her eyes heavy from sleep. Her nose was red and running with the onset of a cold, no thanks to being locked outside her house in the rain for so long. She sipped her tea and shrugged, sniffling. "Suppose so…"
"Sirius said he'd had words with him about his manners."
Flora snorted softly. "That explains a lot then."
"He's been better?"
"I wouldn't say better. He still gives me his dirtiest of looks, but he hasn't complained about my food lately. And he's said thank you once or twice."
Remus nodded thoughtfully. "S'ppose it's a start."
There was a short silence between them. Flora sniffled again and dabbed her nose with a tissue, then said, "He saved me from getting tetanus in the shed."
Remus frowned. "In the shed? Why were you in the shed?"
"Looking for a ladder to get into the house."
"Wait, what?" Remus looked absolutely baffled. "What d'you mean you were looking for a ladder to get into the house?"
"We got locked out," she replied a little irritably, annoyed by his sudden line of questioning.
Remus stared at her in astonishment and confusion. Flora just nodded, as if taking this reaction for a verbal reply, "And, Remus, the shed was filthy. Do you have a broomstick, by the way?"
"Wait a second," Remus blinked, "You and Regulus were locked outside the whole night?"
"No, silly," she replied quickly. "I got in through the bedroom window."
"How?!"
She shrugged and looked down at her tea. "Climbed on Regulus," she mumbled. "It's lucky he's so tall."
Remus stared at her in disbelief, then all of a sudden he began to laugh, burying most of his face in his hand. It was a deep laugh that shook him to his core. When he looked at her again, he had tears sparkling in his wide, astonished eyes.
"So, you-you climbed on Regulus and in through the bedroom window?" He asked, absolutely shaking with laughter now.
"It's not that funny," she frowned. "I've got a cold now."
"Flora," he said breathlessly, wiping at his eyes. "There's a ladder around the side of the house."
"Fuck off, there isn't!"
"There is," he insisted. "It's by the coal shed. Fucking hell. As if he let you climb on his shoulders…" he began to laugh all over again.
"Are you joking?" She snapped. "There's a ladder?"
Remus nodded, trying to compose himself. His face had gone red now. "Oh, fucking hell. I wish Sirius and I had been there to see that."
"I didn't see any ladder!" She protested, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. "Why are you laughing? It isn't funny!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry… it's not funny, it's definitely not…" Remus tried again to calm down, reaching over to pat her shoulder. But he just dissolved into little snickers and snorts again.
"Remus!" She stood up in irritation and snatched up his and her empty cups and breakfast plates, then flounced off into the kitchen. Regulus had just emerged in his pyjamas, taking extra care with the last step into the kitchen. His curls were sticking up in every direction, his expression impassable and stony.
As soon as he saw Flora, his face became set in a grim scowl. Flora glared back at him as her eyes met his.
"Make me a cup of tea," he ordered.
"Good morning to you too," Flora replied coolly, "and no. Make it yourself." She deposited the plates and cups into the sink, then stomped back into the sitting room before he could respond.
Regulus frowned deeply, looking at the kettle. He lifted it up, discovered it still had hot water in it and decided that was good enough; he found a clean mug on the draining board — a garish orange and green mug decorated with big flowers — and then paused when he realised he didn't know where she kept the teabags or milk or sugar, or in what order all of those were supposed to go in. He stared at the mug and kettle blankly, wishing she would just come back and make the damn tea for him.
He followed her into the sitting room, glanced at Remus coolly, and held up the mug in front of Flora helplessly. "I don't know how to do it."
"You see what I have to put up with?" Flora said aside to Remus. "Figure it out, Regulus. I don't feel well." She had just wrapped a large crocheted blanket around herself and huddled herself up in the armchair by the fire, shivering.
"I don't know where you keep anything!" Regulus retorted vehemently, his flickering from Flora's moody face to Remus' gleeful one, then back to Flora.
"Regulus," Remus, who seemed to have just barely recovered from his fit of laughter, got up and took the cup from him. "Look, I'll show you how to do it."
"I don't need showing," Regulus snapped impatiently. "I need someone to make it for me."
"No, I insist," Remus said pointedly, striding into the kitchen. "It'll make it easier for both of you."
"Just make it for me!"
"Hell will freeze over before he even considers making his own cup of tea," Flora interjected from the other room.
Remus sighed to himself. Despite Regulus' refusal to learn how to use the kettle, Remus proceeded to explain each action as he did it anyway. But Regulus wasn't listening. He just sat down and eyed Remus darkly from across the table.
"And then you press this button down," Remus clicked down the switch on the kettle and looked back at the sour-faced boy. "And it boils the water."
"Where is my brother?"
"Busy."
"Doing what?"
"Nothing that concerns you," Remus turned his back to the kitchen counter and leaned back on his hands, answering vaguely and cryptically. "He's out doing things."
Regulus' irritation visibly grew with this response. "Doing things?"
"Mm."
"Things for the Order?"
"It doesn't concern you, mate," Remus replied calmly. "It's nothing you're missing out on."
"Sirius said I'd be able to help," he objected in frustration. "Instead I'm stuck here with that idiot muggle girl," he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the sitting room, "doing fuck all — and do not call me mate."
Flora heard his remark from the other room and just turned the television up louder.
A little smile pulled at Remus' mouth. "I wouldn't say you're doing nothing, Regulus," he returned again in his calm, unaffected voice. "With more practice, you and my sister could become great acrobats."
Regulus' cheeks flared up with colour. The kettle boiled at that moment and Remus turned around to make the tea, continuing to explain the entire process.
That first rocky week passed into a second week, then a third and fourth. Soon Regulus had been there a whole month. Within that extensive length of time, he did not learn how to use the kettle or the toaster or microwave or any other item in the kitchen. He distrusted the television immensely and wouldn't go near it, though Flora had caught him watching it once or twice whenever she had one of her programmes on. He stayed oddly close to her — not physically close, but he seemed to seek out her company even if it was to sit in sullen silence. He kept a strict distance of at least five feet from her at all times, however.
Sirius started bringing more things to keep Regulus entertained and happy: books of every variety, Quidditch magazines, sweets. He even brought him a set of new quills and ink, as Regulus refused to use the self-inking muggle pens to do the crosswords in the newspaper. This had delighted Flora and she started calling him Charles Dickens over the next few days, much to Regulus's confusion and annoyance.
They settled into something they could have almost called a routine, though it was a wrought, challenging routine in which both remained wary and suspicious of the other. They still bickered, particularly when it came to Flora's cooking. During one particularly heated disagreement, over a simple bowl of tomato soup Regulus insisted was too vile to eat, Flora had dumped the soup all over his white shirt and told him he was a cunt. They didn't speak for days after that and Regulus removed himself completely from her presence, opting to hide in his room all day.
They were presently at a stalemate, saying little and regarding one another like two animals locked in a cage together. Flora could hardly stand it after another week. It was one thing to have a hostile guest mooching around the house, but another thing entirely to have a hostile guest who pointedly ignored his hostess. The uneasiness Flora had felt at the beginning of his stay began to creep up again; she couldn't tell what his thoughts were. Nor could Regulus read her very well. The truth was that Regulus felt equally uneasy of Flora, though his reasoning was not fully-formed beyond the measure of her being a muggle. Flora could not, by any reason, harm him — unless she poisoned his food, which he considered a very real threat. However, he did not see her threat as potentially fatal, but more along the lines of feeding him bad food and making him ill. That had been why he'd objected to the soup; he thought she'd done something to it on account of her being, as he perceived, particularly contentious while she'd prepared it.
Flora was the first to break the tension one afternoon. It was a nice day, possibly the last nice day of September as the month died, when she put her book down and looked at Regulus from across the room. He'd started sitting in the same room as her again and was stretched out lazily on the sofa with his nose in the latest Quidditch Times magazine. He had a second magazine called Seeker Weekly on the floor beside him.
"It's a nice day," Flora said. She was sitting directly in front of the window with the autumn sun shining on her.
Regulus didn't respond. He didn't even look at her.
"Isn't it?" She prompted, speaking a little louder although she knew he'd heard her the first time.
Regulus' sharp eyes shifted from the magazine to her, his brow knitted deeply. "What?"
"I said it's a nice day," Flora repeated, gritting her teeth and willing herself to be calm.
Regulus just grunted and looked back at his magazine, turning the page. Flora looked at the cover of the magazine for a moment, watching the moving picture of a beater flying in and out of frame.
"Did you play Quidditch?" She asked next.
Regulus didn't look at her, but he answered, "Yes."
"Sirius did too, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Chaser?"
"Mm."
"What about you?"
He looked at her now, more out of irritation than anything else. "What is this, the Inquisition?" He snapped back, much to Flora's amusement. He hadn't known what the Spanish Inquisition was until last night when Monty Python had been on television. He'd been momentarily transfixed enough to lose interest in his Quidditch magazine.
"I'm just making conversation," Flora replied with a little smirk.
Regulus huffed and closed his magazine. "I was a Seeker."
"Are those the ones who go after the little golden ball?"
"It's called the Snitch, and yes," he returned coolly.
"Oh," she nodded thoughtfully. After a beat, she asked, "Were you good at it?"
"Yes," Regulus answered stiffly, "Slytherin won several games because of me."
"Oh," she nodded again. "That's good."
Regulus eyed her, trying to work out whether she was actually interested or just trying to vex him.
"Shall we go for a walk?" Flora asked suddenly.
"We?" He parroted. His usual scowl returned to darken his face.
"Yes, we. It's a nice day."
"It won't be a nice day for long with you," he quipped back.
Flora rolled her eyes. "Oh, piss off. Come on."
Flora stood up from her seat but Regulus didn't move. Flora took several steps closer and stood over him with her hands resting on her hips. "Come on."
"No," he opened his magazine again.
Flora was losing her temper. With little forethought, she impulsively reached out and snatched the magazine from his hands.
"Oi!" Regulus sat up straighter at once, his eyes flashing angrily. His hands fought back to stop her, tearing the cover of the magazine in the process, and grabbed her wrist as she held the magazine in the other hand out of his reach.
"Ow!" Flora cried out as he twisted the skin and pressed his fingers into the little bones of her wrist. She drew back and Regulus released her. "You little asshole, that hurt!"
Regulus actually looked surprised in that moment. He blinked, realising with some shame what he had done, then recovered himself and frowned. "Then don't take my things!"
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Flora retorted, rubbing her wrist, "I just want to go for a walk!"
"You tore my magazine!"
"Well if you hadn't grabbed it and—" she took a few brisk steps back when Regulus suddenly got up.
"Fine! We'll go for a fucking walk!" He snapped angrily. "Anything to shut you up!"
"No," Flora shook her head and turned her face away. Hot tears were brimming in her eyes and she didn't want him to see. Her voice cracked. "No, I don't want to anymore."
Regulus froze when he saw the tears roll down Flora's cheeks. He hadn't expected tears. Flora wiped at them furiously and let her hair fall in her forlorn face; she briefly looked at him when he didn't speak, then looked away again just as quickly before wordlessly fleeing the room.
An unsettling feeling spread within the pit of Regulus' stomach; it swiftly ate away his pride and left only a hollowness, an acute discomfort that only doubled every time the image of Flora's watery, pained eyes flashed through his mind.
Oh. Oh no.
His mind was reeling.