CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: REPENTING

Regulus sat listening to an oddly comforting, jaunty tune on the radio the following morning. He was alone. The house elf had already been and prepared a cooked breakfast, cleaned and left. Regulus didn't feel like eating though; he pushed the egg around on his plate with his fork, his chin in his hand. He'd heard this song before. Flora, with her eclectic taste, had played it several times and he knew it was by a band called The Cure—

I would say I'm sorry

If I thought that it would change your mind

But I know that this time

I have said too much

Been too unkind

It had had no meaning then, but now as he listened to it he felt like something bigger than him was at hand, conspiring to force him to amend his ways. Many songs had reminded him of Flora since she left, but none had gone into his head completely and reflected the situation back to him so plainly. He vaguely wondered if muggle devices had some kind of ability to pick up one's mood and that he, along with a handful of other sad, regretful boys, were the only ones hearing this particular song at this exact moment.

Boys don't cry

His father had said that to him many times. Regulus had always been sensitive; he'd cried when Sirius left him to go to Hogwarts, and he'd cried when Sirius left home. He'd always been the first to break if he and his brother got into trouble, and more often than not, it only got him a harsher beating. He'd since learned to hold back, bottle it. But he wanted to cry now. Timid with shame, he'd tried to clean the bed linen as best as he could manage with a damp cloth, when really what he wanted to do was burn the whole thing and dispose of the evidence like a murder scene. He felt weak. As it stood, he firmly decided never to step foot in her room again and to stop his ridiculous, lust-fuelled fantasies. He was going to do something useful with his time instead, something for Flora, determined to make amends for his transgressions in some way.

When Sirius arrived later that day, a little earlier than normal, he found Regulus outside in the garden, knelt down in a flower bed, pulling out weeds and removing dead leaves from around a rose shrub. Sirius at once stopped short, blinking in surprise at seeing his brother, always so prim and tidy, elbows deep in dirt. Regulus didn't even notice his arrival.

"What are you doing, Reg?" Sirius asked.

Regulus jumped, abruptly turning around. He had a smudge of dirt across his cheek and on the end of his nose, and a piece of twig stuck in his messy hair. He coloured, staring back stupidly for a moment.

"I'm tidying up the garden," he said, then swiftly scowled and wiped his hands on his jeans.

An amused smile crept across Sirius' face. "You? Tidying up the garden? What next, I'll come back and find you retiling the roof?"

Regulus rose to his feet with a frown, picking at the dirt under his nails. "You're early."

"I thought I'd join you for dinner," he shrugged. He then fumbled around in his jacket and pulled out a small, crumpled envelope, which he then extended to Regulus. "And Flora asked me to give you this."

Regulus' heart jumped, filled with a new wave of hope. He took the envelope at once, staining it with the grime and dirt on his fingers, and hurriedly opened it. He was dismayed before he read it to see it was only a very short note—

Hello Regulus,

I forgot to tell you: if the hot water suddenly goes cold, you need to reset the switch on the wall. It's next to the front door. Turn it off for five minutes, then turn it on again. A red light will come on when it's working.

Flora x

Regulus frowned and looked at Sirius. "Did she have any other messages for me?"

"Only that you better not have wrecked the house and stayed out of her knicker drawer. Do you want to send a message back?"

Regulus' frowned, feeling that flicker of guilt again; he knew he'd done worse than go through her drawers. But he considered the question. It had never occurred to him to write a letter to her, not since the last letter catastrophe. He shook his head and looked back the flowerbed, observing his hard work. Sirius looked too.

"You've never gardened in your life. What's up with you?" He asked in disbelief.

"There's nothing else to do around here," Regulus replied snippily. "I'm bored."

Sirius shook his head, sighing. "Well, just be careful its weeds you're pulling up and not her flowers."

"How…" Regulus paused, "How can you tell the difference?"

They ate a good meal together. Pod, a quiet and aloof elf of a wisened age, cooked like a five-star chef and every night produced elaborate meals of veal or steak, smoked salmon, roasted chicken, pot roasts, and so forth. As delicious as they were though, Regulus missed Flora's home cooking— particularly her shepherd's-pie-which-was-really-cottage-pie. Tonight it was honey-roasted chicken and roast potatoes. But Regulus didn't feel particularly hungry and pushed his remaining potatoes around, staring glumly at the oozing gravy and idly listening to Sirius talk about the latest thing he'd done with his flying motorbike.

"How's your back?" Sirius asked after a lull in his talking.

"Huh?"

"Your back. The scars."

Regulus tensed at the question. Though he had certainly never forgotten the experience, he paid little mind to it recently and didn't like to revisit it. The scars had healed, leaving only faint white lines across his skin.

"It's been over a month now, Reg," Sirius went on carefully when Regulus didn't answer.

Regulus stabbed at a potato and began to eat again, avoiding his brother's eye. He still said nothing, so Sirius continued.

"If you told us more, we could trust you better," he paused, watching Regulus, then went on, "And we could help you."

"What do you want me to say?" he mumbled, a hint of irritation in his voice. "There's nothing left to tell. It's over. And I don't need nor want your help."

Sirius leaned back in his chair, studying his brother with a mixture of concern and frustration. He could feel the defensiveness in Regulus' tone.

"That's the thing, Reg," he said, choosing his next words carefully. "It's not over, is it? You never told us exactly what happened."

Regulus saw an opportunity at this reminder. When he'd found Sirius that awful night, disapparating with the last shred of strength he had left, he was babbling like a lunatic, crying and had to be subdued with a potion. He'd slept fitfully for days, and when he finally did come around and could speak coherently, the horror of what he had faced was too overwhelming to verbally recall. He'd clammed shut, answering questions vaguely and only speaking to Sirius. Regulus still did not wish to revisit this particular memory, but he realised he potentially had something to gain by doing so.

"Then bring me to an Order meeting and I'll tell you everything," he said. "But I want my wand back."

"I'm not in charge of that. Mad-Eye has it locked away somewhere.. worried I'd give in and give you it if I kept it."

"I don't care," Regulus huffed, "Just get it back for me."

"Let's take this one thing at a time, Reg," Sirius replied. "If you're going to talk, I'll tell them and we can arrange a meeting."

"I'll talk if they give me my wand back."

"It's not going to work that way," Sirius frowned. "You'll talk and it will be because you want to help."

"Why should I?" He snapped back. "You've essentially put me in solitary confinement. Why can't I come back to London too?"

"Because it's a one-bedroom flat and there's no where for you to sleep with Flora there."

Regulus sighed angrily, rubbing his hands over his face. "There's nothing to do here!"

"Then talk," Sirius said with a stern look. "Talk, and not just because you want something out of it."

"And then what? You'll just bring me back here to do nothing all day."

"Not necessarily," Sirius replied calmly. "You could attend more meetings, maybe do an odd job here and there."

Regulus looked away sullenly, his jaw clenching. "I don't want to be involved."

"Then what do you want, Regulus?" Sirius said, exasperated.

"I want my freedom and I want my wand."

"What part are you not grasping here?" Sirius snapped. "You ran away. You-Know-Who will know you're still alive and you'll be killed if you're found."

"Then let me protect Flora," he replied, leaning forward in his chair and pushing his plate aside. "If you give me my wand back, I'll maintain the wards, check the area around the house, and I'll make sure she doesn't go anywhere. So then I'm still helping you and Lupin, see? And I'll tell you everything else that happened."

Sirius regarded Regulus closely for a prolonged moment, his eyes narrowed. Then, with a directness which surprised Regulus, he said, "You like her, don't you? I know you do."

Regulus flushed to his ears. "Don't be absurd. I don't like her," he frowned.

"Then why have you gone red?"

"I haven't!" He went redder still.

"You want your wand back and you want Flora to come back, am I right?"

"I want my wand back."

"And Flora."

"I don't care about Flora," Regulus replied stubbornly.

"Then why offer to protect her?"

"I'm bargaining," he returned shortly with a little sniff.

Sirius paused, considering his next words. "Reg," he started carefully, "There's nothing wrong with caring, you know?"

Regulus swallowed thickly. His mouth felt dry and he was unable to look his brother in the eye. "I don't care. I don't like her and she doesn't like me."

"Well, maybe she would if you weren't so rude and nasty all the time."

"Hardly matters now," Regulus glowered. "She's not here."

"And whose fault is that?" Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, will you leave me alone," Regulus snarled, pushing his chair noisily and standing up. "Go back to your stupid werewolf boyfriend."

Sirius looked grim, growing increasingly irritated with his little brother, but he also rose from his chair and took up his jacket. "Fine, I'm going. Enjoy your solitude, Reggie."

Sirius was thinking though.

Flora didn't have the nerve to go back into the shop for the next couple of days. The encounter with the boy had shaken her because in all points he looked almost exactly like Sirius. Or perhaps it was just his hair. The boy had the same long hair, but when Flora reflected and tried to remember his face, she did recall him having a similar handsome nose, masculine jawline, and the same grey eyes. The most glaring difference was that he was Scottish. In her mind, she called him the Scottish Sirius and could not get that out of her head once she invented it. Over and over she went on their brief conversation, the way he'd smiled at her, the look he'd given her. It had made her stomach squirm.

When she finally went back, it was premeditated; she'd walked past the shop first just to confirm that he was in there, crossed the street and came back to the flat to touch up her makeup. Remus looked at her oddly.

"I forgot something," she said by way of explanation. "I'm going now."

Remus noticed she didn't pick up anything else or do anything different (besides applying lipstick) from five minutes ago when she'd first left the flat. He shared a look with Sirius.

Flora flew back down the stairs, though not too fast because she didn't want her face to look red and flushed. She paused to fix her skirt and then stepped back out onto the street, her heart thudding horribly as she walked towards the shop.

The shop boy smiled when he saw her come in and Flora wondered if it was because he had recognised her from last time. She smiled shyly in return and moved towards the back of the shop to pick up items she didn't need, taking her time. There were no other people in the shop and she felt painfully aware of her presence. She approached the counter with a bag of apples, washing up liquid, shower gel, and a packet of biscuits. She kept her eyes low until everything was set down for him to price, at which point she realised he was looking her in the eyes, smiling. She smiled back, her cheeks flushing pink.

"Alright?" He nodded by way of greeting.

Flora nodded quickly, "Mhm, yes. You?"

"Yeah," he glanced back at the till as he priced everything up and snatched up a stripy plastic bag from behind the counter somewhere.

Flora watched on in silence, fiddling with the zip on her purse anxiously. She realised she should count her money out and have it ready, so she opened her purse, though unfortunately a little too abruptly and sent coins spilling out all over the floor. If it were possible for one to ask God the exact moment to end one's life, for Flora it would have been that moment. The coins rolled and bounced all over the linoleum floor.

"Oh!" Flora exclaimed, dipping down on her heels to stop and catch them. She would rather have run out of the shop altogether and have never come back.

The shop boy quickly moved from around the counter to assist, bending down next to her. He smiled as he collected up the rouge fifty and twenty pence coins, looking at her even though she was half hiding behind her hair and avoiding his eye, embarrassed beyond belief.

"I'm so sorry," she said in a small, high voice.

"Aye, no worries, love. I got 'em, no bother," he said, holding his fist out to drop the coins back into her purse.

Flora squeaked out a "thank you," and stood up when all her coins had been restored to their rightful place. The shop boy stood up with her, his eyes never leaving her face. He was tall, she noticed. Taller than Sirius — maybe as tall as Regulus. She put the last part out of her mind quickly, not wanting to think about him right now.

"How…how much for?" She waved her hand over the bag of shopping in a vague way.

"Oh, ah," he went back around the counter to look at the till. "It'll be one pound fifty-eight."

Flora couldn't face standing there, counting exact change, so she just handed him two pound coins and waited for her change.

"There you go, forty-two pence change," he said, holding the coins and a small paper receipt between his fingers. They touched her palm as he dropped the coins into it.

"Thanks," Flora mumbled. Her cheeks were still burning with mortification as she hurriedly put her change and receipt away.

"You Welsh?" He asked suddenly.

Flora blinked, looking at him in blank surprise. "Uh, yes… I am."

He smiled warmly. "Thought so. I can hear it, your accent," he said casually. "What part of Wales are you from?"

"North," she replied, "Anglesey."

"I used to go on holiday there with my mum and dad," he nodded with recognition. "It's nice."

"Are you…are you Scottish?" Flora ventured, beginning to feel slightly more at ease.

"Aye, Edinburgh," he replied. "You ever been?"

Flora shook her head. "I've never been anywhere. Except here. London… obviously."

He smiled again, endeared by her. "What's your name?"

"Flora."

"That's pretty," he said, his eyes fixed admirably on her face. "I'm Mark. Do you…do you live near here? Just I've seen you before."

"I'm just visiting," Flora felt herself blushing again, thrilled that he'd remembered her after all. "I'm staying with my brother and his friend."

"You visiting long?"

She shrugged truthfully. "As long as I want, I suppose."

An elderly woman came into the shop at that moment and at once requested Mark's assistance with her shopping list. Flora took that as her cue to leave, somewhat disappointed their conversation had been cut short. Mark flashed a smile at her one last time. "See you later, Flora."

See you later. Flora mulled over this as she walked back to the flat, wondering whether he really meant 'see you later' or just 'see you later' as a generality. She climbed the stairs, hardly noticing the effort of them even by the time she'd reached the sixth flight, and returned to her brother's flat. Remus didn't ask why she was acting so peculiar; he didn't understand girls and didn't like to interfere with the things he sensed were strictly feminine. Flora puzzled him often enough to know it wasn't worth asking.

But Flora felt optimism in her heart. For the first time in years, she felt happy. London was oddly beautiful in autumn. Every morning a heavy mist hung around the windows like a sheer curtain; it was always chilly first thing, and Flora liked nothing more than to curl up under her thick duvet and listen to the pigeons on the garret while the city came awake. The sound of people and cars below were ever-present, unceasing, but Flora hardly noticed it anymore. She was comfortable in her makeshift sofa-bed; it was perhaps more comfortable than her own bed at home. She could just sink into the thick cushions.

Though Flora was only allowed to leave when it suited Remus, she was able to enjoy the city as it grew colder and wetter, often visiting bookshops and galleries. She visited the corner shop every other day to see Mark, becoming increasingly friendly with him as she stayed to stand and talk whenever there were no customers. It was nice speaking to someone 'normal,' as she considered it. Mark was a muggle, the same as her, and had no condescending airs about him. The shop was his dad's shop, and he worked most evenings. He was twenty years old and wanted to be a mechanic, as he liked fixing cars. He was ticking every Sirius-box in Flora's head—Sirius had a motorbike, something which he often tinkered with any spare moment he had. Mark also had a motorbike. Nobody, besides Sirius himself, was more perfect in Flora's eyes.

But she still thought of Regulus. When she couldn't sleep at night, sometimes from listening to the gentle creaks coming from Sirius' and Remus' bedroom, she thought of Regulus.

She didn't tell Sirius or Remus about Mark. In particular, she didn't want Remus to know because she knew he would start asking questions and watching her more closely than he already did. In turn, she watched Sirius and Remus just as closely, watching for any telling look between them, but found nothing that could settle her doubts with any certainty. She'd heard creaks at night in their room; through the day, they apparently had a bed each, but she didn't doubt this was for show and that at night it was restored to one bed. Their voices always sounded to be in the same part of the room. She'd heard them speaking in hushed whispers in the bathroom late one evening, some hours after she'd fallen asleep; the light from the bathroom had woken her, as it was directly across from the living room and she hadn't closed the door to the hallway. They had just come back from an Order meeting. She couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but their tones were grim, serious. She heard a small clatter in the bathroom sink, Sirius cursing, and Remus shushing him. They closed the door properly and Flora soon drifted off back to sleep.

October drew on until soon she'd been in London just short of two weeks and there was only one day before Halloween. Sirius brought some pumpkins home with the bright suggestion of sitting together and carving them.

"Why are there four pumpkins?" Remus frowned when Sirius put them down on the table. Flora came over to look, tracing her fingers over the grooves of the smallest pumpkin.

Sirius looked a little sheepish. "Well, I just thought… well, maybe, if it's alright… Reg could join us on Halloween."

Remus looked at Sirius dumbly for a moment and Flora lifted her eyes in surprise, and if she was honest, a little, tiny bit of joy. Sirius, using the short pause to his benefit, continued, "Please, he just seems really down lately. What's the harm in having him here for one night?"

"The harm?" Remus repeated incredulously, clearly averse to the idea. "I brought Flora here to get away from him. And you want to bring him here? And where's he going to sleep?"

Sirius looked to Flora, a little unsure. "Would you be opposed to him sleeping on the floor next to you for one night?"

Flora shrugged, knowing her opinion didn't really seem to matter much in these things. Sirius, she knew, had already won his plea.

"He loves Halloween and he's all by himself," Sirius went on imploringly to Remus. "And I think he's willing to talk… you know, about what happened to him. We could bring him to the meeting."

"Why does he have to stay though?" Remus demanded.

"Just one night, Moony. That's all. With everything that happened to him, I don't like to leave him alone."

Flora had expected, and rather hoped, Remus to flat-out say no, but he appeared to be considering. She forgot sometimes that Regulus was a valuable asset to the war and not just some moody boy hiding with her, something which Remus appeared to have forgotten until now as well. Consequently, though with heavy reluctance, Remus agreed to the idea.

Regulus remained stoic and impassive when Sirius told him the plan that same evening, but inwardly he was elated. He had a chance to see Flora again, a chance (he hoped) to redeem himself. Flora, for her part, didn't feel ready to face Regulus yet, even it was just for a short time. The truth was, she was embarrassed. The things he'd written in that outrageous letter came to her more often than she cared to admit. In a general way, too, she thought often of Regulus. Even with Mark on her mind, and even with Sirius right in front of her, Regulus still managed to worm his way into her deepest thoughts. She was starting to miss him, loath as she was to admit it. She should despise him, and yet could not. The very complexity of her feelings for Regulus stirred an uncomfortable realisation in her: she wanted to see him.

She went down to the shop that evening to "buy more toothpaste." As she'd hoped, Mark was alone in the shop flipping through a music magazine called The Face. He smiled brightly when he saw her and put his magazine aside.

"Eh, I was hoping to see you," he said at once.

Flora flushed and looked at him questioningly with a small, shy smile. "What for?"

"You want to go out on Halloween?"

Flora faltered. "I don't have a costume."

Mark reached down behind the counter and pulled out two sets of black and white cream makeup. He passed one to Flora. "Just wear a black dress an' put some o' this on."

"It does sound fun," Flora began, hesitating, a small frown on her face.

Mark waited, his own hope wavering a little. "But?"

"It's just… my brother," Flora admitted with trepidation. "I don't think he'd let me go."

"Well, you're eighteen, aren't you?" Mark leaned forward on the counter, resting on his elbows. "Wait… you are, aren't you?" He repeated, this time with a different meaning entirely.

"Yes, I'm eighteen," Flora replied a little snippily.

He smiled and laughed softly. "Just makin' sure. So then, he can't go telling you where you can and can't go, can 'e?"

"He's really protective," Flora grumbled. "He'd stop me going."

"Then don't tell him," he grinned, "Slip out without him knowing, yeah?"

"He'd go mental," Flora continued to fret. She glanced aside like she expected Remus to appear out of thin air and reprimand her—which, as he was a wizard, was a very real possibility.

"Not if he doesn't know. It'll be late when we go anyway."

"Where is it we're going?"

"Thought we'd go to a club in Soho."

Flora had always wanted to visit Soho, but it was one place firmly off-limits to her. The temptation, in spite of the risk, was too much to resist. "I suppose maybe…" she replied thoughtfully, "If we go quite late, I could sneak out."

"Great, it's a date then," Mark grinned.

Flora had no idea how it was going to happen, but her determination was strong enough to make it happen.

Her reunion with Regulus was awkward. They regarded one another from a distance at first, briefly locking eyes from across the room. Flora looked back down at the book she was trying to read as he came in with Sirius, pointedly ignoring him, though her heart was beating a little faster.

She bided her time as the evening drew on. Remus, Sirius and Regulus left for their meeting with the Order, which gave her plenty of time to get ready. She didn't have much choice in way of clothing; all her party dresses were at home in Wales. However, she had the good fortune to have recently bought a dress while out shopping: a black velvet dress with long bell sleeves. Short, again. She would wear it with black tights and knee boots. She then planned to do her face white and her eyes blackened with the cream makeup kit Mark had given her. She had everything planned and stowed away when they came back.

Remus looked tense when he returned a few hours later, and Regulus looked oddly elated. She soon found out why when he brought her a cup of tea. She was watching television and not looking at him. It took her a moment to notice the mug was floating in midair next to her, and he was holding a wand with a look of triumph on his face.

"You got your wand back?" Flora sat up in surprise, blinking in wonder.

"Yes," he replied.

A little more careful than necessary, she took the cup and held it to her breast like she was afraid it would float away. Regulus smirked and dropped down beside her on the sofa, stretching out lazily. His knee touched hers. He held his wand in front of his eyes, twirling it between his fingers until it started to irritate Flora a little.

"If you don't stop that, I'll take it and personally make sure you never see it again."

"You'll never have to wash the dishes by hand again," he said, ignoring her empty threat. "Or make beds, or—"

"Yes, alright," she huffed. "Be quiet. I'm trying to watch telly."

"So, really, you should come back," he drawled on.

Flora cast him a look. "Why? So you can turn me into a toad?"

"You were in support of me getting my wand back, as I recall," he replied.

Flora opened her mouth to retort, but Sirius interrupted. He was carrying two pumpkins, while Remus carried the other two. He looked happier than Remus, who glumly flanked him like he was being forced to participate (which he probably was). Flora didn't particularly want to smell like pumpkin when she went to meet Mark, but she had no choice but to sit at the dining table and join in with the pumpkin carving. Regulus sat next to her; his presence was warm, intimate. He kept stealing glances at her, glances which Flora met several times and Regulus didn't break. He obviously wanted her to know he was looking at her, and it made her stomach squirm pleasantly.

"I, uh, tidied your garden up," Regulus said to her while Sirius and Remus talked between themselves. They were drinking beer, which Flora was privately pleased about. It meant the Order meeting had been good, on one hand; on the other, it meant they would be too drunk and sleepy to notice Flora sneaking off. Soon Sirius would bring out the fire whiskey.

Flora lifted her eyes to look at Regulus, her brow furrowing. "Tidied how?"

He shrugged. He was carving what looked like two very tall, pointed ears into his pumpkin. His movements, as always, were precise and elegant. Flora, not all that inventive with pumpkin carving, was keeping to the traditional triangle-eyes-nose-and-mouth and struggling with it.

"The leaves," he said, "I removed them from the flowerbeds and pulled up some weeds."

"They better have been weeds," Flora replied with a hint of warning in her tone.

"I think they were."

"Oh, bloody hell."

His lips cracked up into a smile. She wasn't angry with him, and she was biting back a smirk, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.

"You're not all that talented when it comes to pumpkin carving, are you?" He said.

"There's nothing wrong with my pumpkin, thank you very much," she looked again at his pumpkin. "What's yours meant to be anyway? A rabbit?"

"A kneazle, actually."

"Oh, Sirius said you liked kneazles."

Regulus paused. "Did he?"

"What was your toy kneazle called?"

Regulus' hand stopped for a moment, then resumed cutting out the finer points of the ears, intent on his work. Flora didn't think he was going to reply, until finally, in a low voice he answered, "Tufty."