CHAPTER FIFTEEN: LEAVING

Flora got up early the following morning. So did Regulus, who hadn't actually slept at all. He was already downstairs in the kitchen when he heard Flora open her bedroom door. As she came down into the kitchen, suitcase in hand and several paperback books under her arm, she looked at him in surprise and then cast her eyes aside. She put her suitcase down by the front door, placed the books on top, and straightened up and adjusted her headband.

"Remus said he'll be here in fifteen minutes," she said.

Fifteen minutes. It wasn't long, but perhaps it was enough time to try convince her to stay, Regulus considered. He nodded, briefly raking his eyes over her, then frowned. "Is Sirius coming too?"

"Sirius? I don't know. Why?" She asked guardedly.

His eyes flickered back down, settling on the plaid mini skirt she was wearing. "Because half your skirt always seems to go missing whenever you know Sirius is coming."

Flora coloured, half in anger, half in embarrassment, and she gave him her deadliest look. "It's called fashion," she countered.

"For who? Girls in denial?"

"Oh, will you shut up. I'm wearing it because I like it. As with everything I wear."

The corners of his mouth twitched, which didn't go unnoticed by Flora. She uselessly tugged her skirt down and wiggled her tights up, feeling self-conscious, and then went to the cupboard to get herself some breakfast.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" Regulus asked, looking for a quick way to make amends. Criticising her skirt length had certainly not been the best way to start.

"I'll make it."

"No, I will."

They both moved towards the kettle at the same time, stretching their hand out. Regulus, who was closer, already had his hand on the handle just as Flora reached it. She sharply drew back as their skin touched. Regulus had a smug look of triumph in his eyes, and that little smile turning up the corners of his mouth returned, which for some reason only irritated Flora more. If he thought she'd forget what he'd said — and what he'd written, for that matter — he could think again.

She was frustrated with him, yes, but no more than normal. To her private mortification, a part of her wanted to smile too. It was the part which also told her to stay, to forgive him and let him come close. Flora felt she should have been angrier about his lewd letter, but she found she wasn't really angry at all when she woke up that morning thinking about it. Its explicitness had shocked her, but if she was honest, such a display of raw desire also excited and stirred her. She didn't know what it was like to have sex, but she didn't think it sounded unappealing with Regulus. At present though, she was as determined as ever to cling to her anger and ward him off. He kept getting too close.

"Why do you always have to be so… so… so annoying?" She snapped as he grabbed the kettle, crosser still because she couldn't find a word better than annoying. Now she was talking to him again, she couldn't seem to find her anger.

Regulus knew he was irritating her, but after such an awful week of silence he would do anything to make her speak to him again, even if it was to start another petty squabble. He feigned innocence as he went to fill the kettle with water. "What do you mean? I'm just making you tea."

"You're being a prick," she muttered weakly, shaking her head and folding her arms.

"That's just my default personality, darling," he replied, flicking the kettle on and turning to look at her.

Flora flushed to her ears when he called her this. She quickly tried to swallow her surprise, narrowing her eyes on him. "And you're insufferably cocky."

"You should be flattered."

She scoffed. "Flattered?"

"There're not many muggles — in fact, there's not any muggle in the world — that I would call beautiful apart from you."

Flora's mind flashed back to last night when he'd called her beautiful. The colour in her cheeks was rapidly and increasingly rising. She turned her eyes aside, glaring out of the window because she found she couldn't glare at him anymore.

"That's not the compliment you think it is," she said coolly.

He frowned, looking genuinely perplexed. "How is that not a compliment?"

"Because it's still condescending. It'd be like me saying I don't normally think magic people are good-looking or worthy of my interest because I believe I'm better than you, but I'll be oh-so-generous and make an exception for you."

"That's not valid though," he replied.

"How on earth is that not valid?"

"Because wizards are better than muggles. It's just an inherent fact," he retorted, clearly believing every word he said and that his ability to overlook her muggleness was a gracious gesture on his part. "But I've made an exception for you."

Flora took a deep breath to calm herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't want to be an exception," she said sharply. "Don't you get it?"

Regulus' perplexed frown deepened as she spoke. "It's a compliment," he repeated.

"No, it's not!"

"And why not?" He asked huffily, narrowing his eyes on her. "Would you rather I said you were ugly? Would that make you happier?"

"Oh my god," Flora sighed angrily. "Forget it."

He looked indignant now, drawing himself up. "I don't understand why you're so angry about it. I'm trying to be nice."

"Yeah, well, pack it in before you make things worse than they already are," she glared. "I'm still leaving. And I am still angry with you."

Flora turned away and began to make herself some toast, refusing to look in his general direction the entire time. Regulus moodily got to work on the tea, making one for himself as well as her, and then set them down on the table. Instead of placing them opposite each other, however, he placed them side-by-side, as though they were to sit in the chairs beside each other. Flora took her usual seat opposite him though, casting him a withering look as she reached for her tea and slid it back to her side. A long, stiff silence ensued.

"So?" Flora demanded finally, the first to break the silence, just a moment before Regulus opened his mouth to speak.

He blinked. "What?"

"I'll give you this time to explain yourself."

"About… what specifically?"

"The letter."

"Oh."

He hadn't expected her to bring it up so directly. He shifted uncomfortably and looked at his hands, which were clasped in front of him on the table. It looked like they were about to proceed with a formal interview. Flora waited.

"You…you weren't supposed to read that version…" he mumbled.

"What was in the version I was supposed to read?"

"It was… sort of the same but without the obscenities."

Flora stared at him. She wanted to know why he'd written it in the first place, if he really meant everything he'd said, but she just couldn't bring herself to ask. She looked down at her tea in silence.

Regulus sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, briefly looking up at the ceiling. "It was just a stupid letter," he said with finality when neither of them spoke for several moments. "It was crude and I'm sorry. And I'm sorry for what I said before that as well."

"Fine," Flora grumbled, taking a sip of tea.

"Fine?"

"Fine."

"What's fine?" He demanded.

"Fine you're sorry. I accept the apology."

"For… both things?"

She shrugged. "I'll accept your apology and we can forget it happened. It's easier that way."

"But not if you don't really believe I'm sorry," he replied quietly, fidgeting with a blackened toast crumb on his breakfast plate. He'd already eaten before Flora came downstairs, venturing to make toast and only slightly burning it.

"I don't care anymore. It's clear to me you're not going to change how you think about me. Let's just try and get along without calling each other names."

His head snapped up, his eyes now wide with hope. "You'll stay?"

"No," Flora replied quickly, looking away because she couldn't bear to look at his stupid, pretty eyes looking so forlorn. "I'm still going. I meant when I come back."

"When will you come back?"

"When I feel like it," she replied simply.

"When will that be?"

Flora sighed in irritation at his incessant questions. "When you decide to stop being an insufferable cunt!"

"I thought we were going to stop calling each other names."

"Oh, fuck off."

"But…" he continued, clearly taking some pleasure in riling her up, "How will you know I'm not being a cunt if you're not here?"

"I'll send you an exam paper to complete," she said dryly.

Regulus made a noise that sounded something like a short laugh. Flora hadn't expected it, not only because she hadn't meant to be funny, but because the closest she'd ever heard him laugh was usually a soft noise through his nose. This was a laugh, and when she looked at him, he was actually truly smiling. The dimples bloomed on his face. But his smile faded just as quickly as it appeared as he met Flora's stony expression.

"You're really going then?" He said.

"You don't exactly make a compelling argument to stay."

"I just… I thought…I hoped you might—" he squirmed, staring at the tabletop.

"What? Change my mind?" Flora cut in.

Regulus bristled at her tone, straightening up in his seat and finally fixing his eyes on her. "Yes, actually," he said, "I hoped you would change your mind. Or at least give me another chance."

Flora snorted. "You've had plenty of chances, Regulus. You had one not ten minutes ago when I pointed out your attempt at flattery is nothing more than veiled bigotry. You've had dozens of chances and you've used all of them to be, quite frankly, infuriating. I've had enough."

"But… what about last night?" He ventured.

Flora stiffened. "What about it?"

"You must understand what I'm talking about."

She did. Of course she understood. The closeness between them had been thrilling and they both now had the uncomfortable fear that, by her leaving, what they had established would slip away from them. But really, what had they established? Regulus had acknowledged her beauty, had touched her, but nothing more. The moment had been fleeting and confusing. His acknowledgment of her beauty was also severely misguided, tainted by his condescension, for all it told Flora was that if she hadn't been lucky enough to be beautiful, he would have otherwise thought her repulsive like every other muggle.

Regulus regarded her with a look of expectation. He knew she understood what he was hinting at, and he waited for her response.

"It was just a moment," Flora finally mumbled. "A lapse of judgement."

"My judgement was perfectly clear."

"Your letter was also perfectly clear," Flora fixed her eyes on him squarely. "I was already considering leaving before that, but I felt sorry leaving you here alone. But now… I don't want to be a victim of your passing fancy just because you're bored and lonely."

Regulus stared at her closely as she spoke. An uncomfortable look crept across his face, one which made his eyes drop briefly, guiltily, but it was also with understanding. "I wouldn't do that," he said softly. His voice felt intimate, as though he were about to make love to her that very moment in the kitchen. It made Flora's stomach twist and flip. She had to look away, but Regulus continued to gaze intensely at her for a lingering moment, resting his chin in his hand.

Flora stood up in relief when she saw her brother coming up the garden path. She stood up so fast she upset the cups on the table and nearly sent her chair toppling backwards, though she paid it no mind and rushed to the door. To her mortification, Sirius was with him. She made a point of acting extra surprised to see him in front of Regulus, discreetly tugging down her skirt as the two came in and she stood behind them.

Remus pointedly ignored Regulus, not even deigning to look in his direction. He took Flora's suitcase and books, and swiftly ushered her outside. They had a portkey — an old Doc Marten —ready to go in approximately seven minutes. Flora cast Regulus one last look before she stepped outside, gave him a cool nod and said, "Bye, Regulus. The house better still be standing when I get back."

Regulus swallowed, his arms folded across his chest, trying to look indifferent. He gave her a short nod in return but said nothing. She left the house. Sirius remained though, shutting the door behind her, and turned to look at his younger brother. He hadn't seen or spoken to Regulus since the 'beast' incident and it was clear he now had something to say.

"I've arranged for a house elf to come cook and clean for you. His name is Pod. He'll come twice a day," Sirius explained.

"Fine," Regulus grumbled.

Sirius observed his brother, seeing straight through his efforts to appear unbothered. Regulus' eyes kept darting away from Sirius and he kept his arms folded. Sirius didn't say anything for a long moment, but just fixed him with a steely gaze. Regulus knew Sirius was considering his next words, working up to the scolding that was no doubt about to come.

"You've brought this on yourself, you know. What you said to Flora was out of order and—" he began.

Regulus at once cut him off, indignant. "I didn't say it to her."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "It doesn't matter. She has ears and she heard you."

"I don't want any of your stupid lectures, Sirius," Regulus scowled. "I apologised to her."

Sirius made a sound of derision in his throat. "I've heard your apologies before, Reg. They're pitiful."

"I didn't mean it," Regulus grumbled.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Your apology? Yeah, I'm sure you didn't."

"No," Regulus huffed. "What I said about her. I didn't mean it."

"Then why'd you say it?"

"To get a rise out of Lupin. I don't know. I was pissed off."

Sirius stared at him for a long moment, as though he were trying to get a read on him.

"Speaking of Lupin," Sirius went on steadily, folding his arms. "Did you say anything to Flora about…about me and Remus?"

Regulus had never been a very good liar. By contrast, Sirius was far better at hiding his emotions and thoughts, whereas Regulus had always been one to simply hide in general and avoid confrontations altogether. As a child, he had always relied on Sirius to lie for him or the both of them. His eyes darted aside as Sirius presently asked him this question, at once revealing the true answer even though he said, "No."

Sirius stepped a little closer to his younger brother, frowning. "You did, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," Regulus snapped back.

"Then why was she asking questions about whether her brother and I sleep in the same bed?"

"I don't know."

"Because you told her."

"I didn't!"

"Reg, I told you not to say anything," Sirius said grimly, his voice tense.

"And I'm telling you I didn't say anything," Regulus retorted stubbornly, glowering back at him darkly. "Maybe she figured it out herself. She's not stupid."

A look of surprise cross Sirius' face at this last statement, not because he believed Flora was stupid, but because he'd assumed this was something Regulus firmly and openly believed. But he didn't get a chance to remark on it, as Regulus quickly changed the subject—

"When will I get my wand back?" He demanded.

"Not any time soon after your little performance."

Regulus clenched his jaw, trying to keep his temper in check. "Well then, if I get ripped apart by werewolves or hunted down by one of the Dark Lord's inner circle, you'll only have yourself to blame."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. Nothing will happen to you if you stay put," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"For how long?" Regulus unfolded his arms, raising his voice slightly as his irritation flared. "You said I could help. Instead you've kept me shackled up here day and night with nothing to do."

"Because clearly you haven't changed," Sirius replied, still with a grim-set jaw. "I've protected you and vouched for you at Order meetings. But you've made me look like an idiot, and worse, because some are growing uneasy about me. You're still the same arrogant and entitled boy we knew before you allegedly changed your allegiances."

"Allegedly?" Regulus said, incited. "You have no idea what I've been through!"

"I'm not getting into this with you right now. I have to go. I simply wished to tell you the situation and that I'm keeping my eye on you. I'll visit in the evenings."

Sirius left his brother stewing. Admittedly, he was a little sorry to leave him there alone. Flora felt sorry too, worrying that he would be lonely, but she was far too excited about being in London to worry about him for long. She had only been to London a few times in her life, but every visit was a cause of endless interest due to the slow, quiet nature of her young life. Very soon after she arrived with Remus and Sirius, which was swift and dizzying journey via portkey, she begged Remus to take her shopping.

"Please, you said we could go to Camden Market," Flora reminded him, not wanting to waste a moment of the day. She was stood by the window, high up above the street and people below. The flat itself, situated over a shop that seemed to sell everything and nothing of use, was a converted Victorian terrace with a lot of stairs and no lift. It had a small living room with a gas fireplace, an even smaller kitchen, bathroom, and a bedroom. Flora would be taking the sofa in the living room, which Remus promised he would make bigger for her.

"Later, Flo,' Remus said noncommittally. He slumped down in an armchair while Sirius made tea for the three of them.

Flora's excitement left her quite suddenly, faced as she was with a brother who would only allow her to do things on his watch. It stifled her, reminding her at once that even here, in one of the biggest cities in the world, Remus would be limiting her movement.

"I'll go by myself then," Flora said, more to the purpose of seeing what his reaction would be. She didn't really want to go alone.

"You absolutely will not," he said at once, his expression hardening. "You're not going anywhere by yourself."

"I'm eighteen. You can't stop me," Flora challenged.

Sirius came in carrying a tray of tea, his expression mildly concerned. He looked from Flora to Remus and set down the tray on the coffee table, but feeling it wasn't his place to interfere, said nothing.

"If you're going to make me sit in here all day twiddling my thumbs, I'd rather go back home and sit with the Grim Reaper," Flora added moodily.

"Flora, I didn't say we wouldn't go," Remus frowned. "I just said later. I have a headache, and it's raining anyway."

"I'll go with her," Sirius said as he sat down beside Flora, taking both his cup of tea and hers, which he politely passed to her.

Flora's expression brightened. Remus was resigned, knowing in this moment that keeping Flora under his eye was going to be much more challenging than it had been when she was far away in Wales.

"Fine," he relented, "If Sirius goes with you."

Meanwhile, Regulus, now in an empty house, didn't know what to do with himself. Sleeping seemed the best option, particularly as he had been awake all night thinking and fretting over Flora's impending departure. And now she was gone. He went back to his room after Sirius left, undressed and climbed back into bed; he felt sleepy, defeated, and slept for twelve hours. When he awoke, it was dark outside. Normally the lights would be on at this time and Flora would be cooking dinner downstairs.

Regulus lay still for a long moment, disorientated and lethargic from sleeping so long, but saw no need or urgency to get up. He heard the low hoot of an owl outside in the surrounding trees, punctuating the silence of the house. He pushed the covers back and reached for the bedside lamp, turning it on and filling the room with an orange glow. He rubbed his face and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He felt oddly uneasy, at a loss of what to do. The condemning letter was still crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed, which he eyed with shame and regret. The letter he'd meant to give her remained on his bedside table.

After several minutes of deliberation, wondering over whether to simply go back to sleep or get up, he was finally forced to move out of necessity for the bathroom. He treaded across his room, noticing every creak of the floorboards this time, cringing at the groan of the old door; even the light in the bathroom seemed too bright, the running of the water too loud. When he came out again, he turned on the light on the landing, remembering suddenly what a fuss he had made about it the first evening he'd arrived. He paused by his bedroom door and looked to Flora's closed door. It was a room firmly off-limits, barring the time she had led him in to listen for werewolves, and he'd had no desire to go in there until quite recently. Throughout the past week, he'd simply wondered what she was doing in there, unaware of the fact she mutually wondered what he did in his room all day. Both were curious about the other, and now Regulus had a chance to indulge this curiosity.

Still only in his boxers, he took the few steps to Flora's bedroom and pushed open the door. The room was in darkness. In the countryside, there was no light unless the moon was out, and as there was no moon Regulus was met with total blackness. He switched the light on, standing in the doorway of a feminine haven, hesitating. He knew he shouldn't go in, that he had no right to invade her privacy, but his desire to understand her overruled these objections. He observed the room first from the doorway, sweeping his gaze over it, inventorying the number of lipstick tubes, perfume bottles, and cosmetics which littered her dressing table — like most of the furniture in the house, it was old, a great big oak piece with a heavy square mirror, which in turn was adorned with photographs. An embroidered stool was half-tucked beneath it.

For as tidy and particular Flora was in her housekeeping, her bedroom did not reflect this; knickers were crumpled on the floor, dresses and skirts were draped over the base of her bed, a bra was hanging on the door handle. The walls of the room were a soft pink, decorated with posters of singers and bands, and then old paintings of country scenes and Beatrix Potter characters; and her bed, a white four-poster, was cluttered with mismatched pillows and well-loved stuffed animals. In the centre of the room lay her record player, and scattered around it were all her records. The room had a lingering odour of perfume on skin, of unwashed hair and sweet notes from the array of cosmetics lined up on her dressing table.

Regulus took it all in, mystified not only by the enigma of her being a muggle, but also of simply being a girl. He suddenly didn't dare take another step. There was a harmony within this room that he had no desire to disturb. He retreated at once, turning off the light, and returned to the sanctuary of his own room with an odd heaviness in his chest.