CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: HALLOWEEN
Flora wasn't sure how she was going to get around Regulus that evening. Sirius and Remus went to bed at around nine o'clock, both a little drunk and tired, leaving her and Regulus in the living room. Sirius had transfigured a pillow into a low mattress, which was presently laid in front of the fireplace some several feet away from Flora's sofa-bed. It was complete with duvet and cushions, although Flora thought it didn't look very comfortable, not compared to her bed. Remus gave Regulus a very stern, somewhat slurred, talking to before he went off with Sirius, a clear warning to stay away from his sister or else.
Regulus, sitting upright and cross-legged on his mattress, clearly had no intention of going to sleep anytime soon. If Flora had any hope of getting out, Regulus would have to be privy to her secret. He watched her curiously as she began to fumble around with an obvious purpose, pulling out her dress and shoes from under the sofa; his lips were poised with a question.
"I'm going out and no, you are not coming," she said before he could speak.
He unfolded his long legs and got up. "Going out where?"
"None of your business."
"I think it is my business," he said, drawing himself up. "I've promised your brother and the Order to protect you."
Flora blinked, staring at him. She then started to laugh. "Protect me?"
"Yes," he narrowed his eyes on her. "When you're back in Wales, it's my job to—"
"Well I'm not in Wales, am I?"
"That's not the point!"
"Shush!" She hissed, glaring at him.
He scowled, continuing in a lower voice. "And you're most certainly not allowed to go gallivanting around town like some common trollop—"
"Excuse me?" Flora cut him off, her eyes flashing angrily. She spoke in a soft tone, but her voice was no less furious. "Just who do you think you are? I've heard it all from Remus, but you have no right to tell me what to do or where I can go!"
"I do now," he retorted.
"I'm going and you're not going to stop me."
"Then I'm coming with you," he answered simply. Frankly, he was enticed by the idea and not against it by principle.
"You absolutely are not," Flora snapped back. "I don't care what silly job they gave you to make you feel important, you're still a fugitive and it would more dangerous for you than me to step foot outside that door."
"It's Halloween," he replied.
"I don't care if it's Easter."
He rolled his eyes. "I mean," he said a little more slowly, "It's Halloween. I can disguise myself."
"Are you mad?" Flora glared, resolutely shaking her head. "That is an unbelievably stupid idea."
"You can't go alone," he frowned.
"I'm not going alone," she folded her arms. "I'm going with Mark."
Regulus faltered, clearly not expecting this. His brow darkened with a flurry of unpleasant emotions.
"Who's Mark?" He demanded coolly.
"My friend."
"You don't have any friends," he rightly pointed out, which only caused Flora's irritation to flare.
"I do have friends," she shot back. "And Mark is one of them."
Regulus folded his arms, mirroring her. "You never mentioned this friend before," he said curtly.
"Because I only met him a week ago."
"Only a week?" He scoffed. "And you're meeting him in the middle of the night? His intentions must be very honourable, I'm sure," he said cuttingly.
Flora was about to retort when a sound from her brother's room made her stop. She and Regulus froze, standing as still as statues as they waited, listening anxiously. It was only Sirius or Remus using the bathroom; the bedroom door closed a minute later. Flora and Regulus looked at one another again.
"I'm coming with you or I'll tell your brother," Regulus said finally, taking a small step closer.
"Oh, you are so mature," Flora snapped back sarcastically.
"I mean it," he replied.
"You wouldn't dare."
Regulus met her angry gaze, unblinking, his eyes never leaving hers. The knowledge she was going out in the middle of London with a guy she had just met had ignited a possessive, protective feeling within him—not to mention he was wildly jealous. He certainly wasn't about to let her out of his sight. He meant what he said and Flora knew it.
"Yes, I would," he said lowly. "Don't test me, Flora."
She knew he wasn't bluffing. She knew with absolute certainty that he would go running to Remus and ruin everything.
"You're such an arsehole, you know that?" Flora hissed.
He couldn't help but smirk, shrugging. "I know."
There was really no point in arguing with him. Flora's irritation was increasing every moment and she had less than an hour to get ready. She was annoyed with herself, giving in like this to him; not to mention it was stupidly reckless. But Death Eaters weren't likely to be frequenting the Soho club scene, Regulus pointed out, and he had his wand. And if Remus and Sirius found out? Regulus was confident they wouldn't know a thing. He knew the best silencing charms to ensure a smooth, quiet exit from the flat and assured her he could get them back in again undetected. He'd snuck out plenty of times around Hogwarts, and from his own home at Grimmauld Place once or twice — an impressive accomplishment in itself, he wanted her to know, to even reach the doorstep as there were so many traps and eyes in that house.
"Turn around," she ordered him as she picked up her dress to change. She was in her pyjamas.
Regulus sighed and turned so his back was to her. Flora changed as quickly as she could, putting her dress on first; he turned his head slightly as he heard her curse and stumble into the arm of the sofa. She was was hopping around trying to pull her tights on. He smirked and Flora met his eye, which fleetingly dropped to the exposed top of her thigh.
"I said turn around!" She hissed under her breath.
"I wasn't looking," he replied smoothly, facing the wall again.
"You were," she grumbled back, adjusting her dress and pulling the ends of her hair out of the collar.
"You'd never get out of the flat without me," he said. "You don't know the meaning of quiet."
"And obviously you don't know the meaning of quiet either, or you'd have shut up ages ago."
He rolled his eyes, responding impatiently. "Can I turn around now?"
"Yes," she answered tersely.
He turned and settled his eyes on her, looking her up and down with a frown. "I don't know whether to be impressed or appalled by how short your skirts are."
"And I don't recall asking for your opinion," she replied dismissively, moving to her handbag to fish out the Halloween makeup. "I'm going to put this on, but I'll do yours first."
Regulus sat back down on his makeshift mattress, looking at her warily as she came towards him with the makeup. She sat down in front of him on the floor and fumbled with the plastic packaging, trying to be as quiet as possible.
"You're not putting that rubbish on me," he said at once when he realised her intention.
"You want to be spotted by your old mates?" Flora replied, raising an eyebrow.
Regulus huffed, clearly less than thrilled about the idea of wearing makeup. But then he was less thrilled by the idea of being seen by his former Death Eater associates, so he relented to Flora's ministrations. She began to load a small sponge up with white cream makeup and brought it to his cheek.
"This probably won't make any difference, you're already so pale," Flora muttered as she began to dab and smooth the cream onto his face. "A mask would be better."
Regulus narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He stayed still, not sure where to look while she was so intensely focused on his face. She touched him lightly at first, hesitant to let her hand rest on his face as she worked; she was acutely aware of how close they were, close enough to properly see how long his eyelashes were, the freckles on his nose and cheeks, the very soft stubble on his chin and upper lip. He was so pretty and Flora found herself blushing in spite of herself. He looked at her and Flora returned his gaze, overwhelmed by the beauty of a face which had treated her with such derision and scorn.
Regulus hadn't meant to hold her gaze; it was accidental, when Flora had looked down to load the sponge with more makeup, and then lifted her eyes the moment he looked at her. He studied her face with the same level of preoccupation, admiring the shape of her small, slightly upturned nose, her hazel eyes. She suddenly grabbed his chin. Regulus' heart jumped, thinking wildly she was going to kiss him, but it was just to steady his face while she finished applying the white makeup. She'd left the space around his eyes uncovered and now swapped to the black cream to fill it in.
"Close your eyes," she instructed.
He obeyed without a word, but then flinched and scrunched his eyes up as she began to press the sponge onto his eyelid.
"Oh my god, hold still," Flora sighed, grabbing his chin again as she grew frustrated with his dramatic flinching.
"You're going to poke my eye out," he complained.
"Not if you hold still," Flora replied with a huff, waiting for him to stop his squirming. When he was still again, she slowly brought the sponge back to his eyelid just as he opened his eye to see what she was doing.
"Ow!" He cried out loudly. The sponge went straight into the corner of his eye.
Flora's eyes widened, "Shush!"
Regulus rubbed furiously at his eye, which was red and rapidly tearing up. Flora stayed very still, alert, listening for any sound from her brother's room. When she was sure nobody had woken up or heard them, she turned her attention back to Regulus with a deep frown. He was cursing under his breath, muttering and hissing in pain.
"You are such a baby. Stop rubbing it, you'll only make it worse," Flora grabbed his hand and pulled it away.
He glared at her, half squinting. "Bloody hell, that hurts!"
"Well it's not supposed to go in your eye," Flora snapped back in a low voice. "I told you to keep your eyes closed."
Regulus looked at her with a flicker of irritation, though it was hard to tell if it was due to the pain or her bossy tone. When she attempted to bring the makeup sponge to his eye again, he drew back and dodged her.
"Let me do it," he said.
"Fine," Flora chucked the sponge at him.
Her irritation with him was growing by the second. She was half amazed when they were both finally ready some fifteen minutes later, looking like poor imitations of skeletons. Neither was too confident that it was a foolproof disguise, as Regulus had very distinct features, but it would at least take a second glance to recognise him. Regulus wore the clothes he was already wearing, which happened to be black, and his long woollen coat. Flora put on Remus' leather jacket.
"It's a big improvement, you know," Flora said to him when they were halfway down the stairs of the building. "The makeup."
Regulus glared and shoved his hands into his pockets as he followed her. He had been able to silence the doors as they crept out, preventing them from creaking, and cast a charm around them to muffle any sound their feet might make. Nevertheless, Flora didn't put her boots on until they were outside on the wet street. The chill in the air was sharp and it smelled of rain and chimney smoke. Flora had arranged to meet Mark on the corner by the shop and had been dreading it ever since Regulus inserted himself into the situation, unsure of how to explain his presence or who he was. It was too late to go back now and she was somewhat resigned to the fact this was going to be an incredibly awkward night.
"Don't you fucking dare be rude to Mark," Flora warned him before they took a single step.
"Why would I be rude to your precious Mark?" Regulus shot back sarcastically. "He's a muggle, I assume?"
"Yes, he is," she replied, her voice taking on a hard edge, "So don't say anything weird and don't be rude. You've already spoilt this by making me bring you."
"I have to look after y—"
"I don't need looking after, you prick," she began to walk quickly, pulling Remus' jacket around herself for warmth. "You're just doing this out of spite."
Regulus scoffed and followed her, not more than one step behind. "That's not true," he insisted, though he knew this was a bare-faced lie. He couldn't stand the thought of her with some other boy, least of all a muggle.
Mark was leaning against the wall of the shop, smoking a cigarette, when he spotted Flora. He was wearing similar ghoulish makeup which, in spite of, Flora could see the confusion on his face as she approached with Regulus in tow. He pushed himself off the wall and walked forward to meet her, his eyes questioning, but too polite to ask outright who this unexpected addition was.
"Hey," he said, his gaze flickering from Flora to Regulus and back again, clearly perplexed by this addition to the duo. "You…brought a friend?" He queried carefully, nodding to Regulus in vague greeting. He dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out on the pavement with his foot. Regulus eyed Mark dubiously.
Flora shifted uncomfortably, trying to speak casually in an effort to downplay how mortified she really was. "This is Regulus," she said, drawing back so Mark and Regulus could see one another without her between them.
"Regulus?" Mark repeated. "Fancy name."
Flora realised at that moment just how peculiar the name was and panicked. "He's English," she said quickly.
Regulus met Mark's gaze with a cold, intense stare, silently sizing him up. He could tell that Mark was not pleased with the situation and felt a pang of satisfaction at the thought of making him uncomfortable, possibly even threatened.
"Alright?" Mark nodded at Regulus, extending his hand politely. Flora immediately shot Regulus a look, silently pleading with him to be nice.
Regulus didn't move at first, his eyes flickering from Mark's extended hand to his face, a hint of sneer on his lips. He'd caught Flora's pained expression, begging him to be polite and spare her the embarrassment, and so after a moment of deliberate hesitation he begrudgingly reached out and shook Mark's hand, his grip firm.
"Hello," he said smoothly. His upper-class accent, even from this singular word, felt suddenly more conspicuous than Flora had noticed before. Mark eyed him curiously, as though trying to decipher what kind of relationship he had with Flora.
"So," Mark said finally, smiling uncertainly at Flora, "We going to the club then?"
"Yes," Flora said at once, sidling up to him, giving him an apologetic look. Regulus moved to stand on the other side of her so as not to be behind them.
"We'll have to get the Tube from Bethnal Green," Mark said as they began to walk.
Flora nodded, though in truth she was beginning to feel the onset of a mild panic attack as she realised what a stupid idea this was. She glanced sideways at Regulus, but he didn't seem at all concerned; he glanced back at her, sensing her unease somehow, but his stoic expression betrayed nothing of his own thoughts. In fact, as Mark continued to talk about their journey to the Tube, Regulus almost smirked, scoffing under his breath. "Tube," he repeated, the disdain clear in his voice. The idea that a pureblood wizard like himself, accustomed to the swift and magical methods of transportation, being relegated to using muggle transport was bitterly humorous to him.
Flora shot him a dark look. She felt rather like a person who had an incessant nuisance sitting on their shoulder, one which she couldn't fully acknowledge for risk of looking absolutely insane. Mark glanced at them. He hadn't heard Regulus's comment, but he sensed the animosity in him and immediately disliked the boy, dismissing him as a posh prick— a fair observation, Flora would've agreed.
It was a short walk to the station. Flora wished it had been longer, as she was doing mental gymnastics thinking how to drag a clueless wizard through the station without him being weird and not lose him in the process. She didn't know if Regulus had ever been on the London Underground before, but this question was answered quickly when it came to passing the turnstiles. Mark, being regrettably gentlemanly, allowed Flora to pass through first. She looked back at Regulus, hoping he was paying attention as she inserted her ticket, and passed through the barrier. Then Mark went through, leaving Regulus standing there in confusion.
"Put your ticket in the slot," Flora quickly moved back to the barrier, leaning over.
"Where?" Regulus scowled.
"There," she pointed to said slot impatiently.
Regulus hesitantly brought his ticket to the machine slot, unsure of how the mechanism worked, then visibly jumped when it snatched his ticket from his hand.
"Now walk through the gate," Flora practically begged, aware that Mark was watching on in bemusement. She cast an apologetic look at him as Regulus shoved his way through the turning metal gate. "He's never done this before…" she mumbled aside.
"I can tell," Mark replied, not impolitely, but with a tone that felt vaguely passive-aggressive. Flora wanted to explain why she'd brought Regulus along, but was struggling to think of a plausible reason. She didn't want to say that he'd blackmailed her into bringing him.
The next hurdle was the escalator to take them down to the platform. Flora drew back as Mark stepped on and she grabbed Regulus sharply by the elbow as she saw him staring at it warily. "Just step onto it," she said in a low voice.
"It's moving."
"You have moving stairs at Hogwarts, it's no different."
"Well, actually, it is," he frowned. "They only move once you're standing on them. And they don't move the way this is moving."
"I'll push you down them if you don't move right now," Flora hissed. "You wanted to come."
He was gripping the handrail, blocking a small queue of people who were fast approaching behind them. The regular stairs, the ones which didn't move, had a barrier across them saying Out of Order because the floor tiles were broken. Some other young people, dressed up as witches and devils, pushed past them. Regulus stared after them. When he still didn't step forward, Flora grabbed his arm and forced him to step on with her. He gripped the handrail so tightly his knuckles turned white, his eyes fixed disconcertedly on the moving stairs under his feet. Mark was down already, leaning against the railing with ease, watching them resignedly.
"You're never coming anywhere with me again," Flora muttered scathingly. But when she looked at him again, she saw how genuinely confused and nervous he was, and at once her anger faded to sympathy.
"Look, you wanted to come," she repeated with a heavy sigh.
Regulus straightened up, trying to look dignified, though he still gripped the handrail for dear life. "I am just not accustomed to your stupid muggle things," he replied snippily.
Her sympathy for him wavered at this comment. She was hardly surprised by the things he said anymore, so she chose to ignore him. She grabbled him by the crook of the arm as they approached the bottom of the escalator, telling him exactly when to step off; he stumbled a little and scowled. Flora couldn't bear to look at Mark, who had said little since they'd arrived, and was glad of the paint on her face to hide how embarrassed she really was.
When they waited on the platform, Flora had to pull Regulus back as he wandered too close to the edge. He looked exceedingly unnerved the next minute when the train rushed in, blowing his hair and clothes with the force of a gale wind. He certainly didn't enjoy the train journey either as it rattled down the tracks to Tottenham Court Road, some twelve stops away. He sat next to Flora before Mark could, who was left to stand and hold the railing. The worst thing was that Regulus looked rather smug about it. Flora was despairing, almost wanting to go home, but held hope she could salvage the situation with Mark.
She made her displeasure with Regulus known when they got off the train and made it to the street above — luckily, the normal stairs were in order and Regulus didn't have to go up the escalator. Flora wasn't sure he'd have managed it. She quickly linked up her arm with Mark's arm, snubbing Regulus, and looked at the former sweetly. "Which club are we going to?" She asked.
"I dunno, really," Mark smiled back, which was a great relief to her. "Thought we might jus' look around and see what looks interesting."
It all looked interesting. Flora was as amazed as Regulus at the sheer amount of sex suddenly under their noses—the sex shops, topless bars, peep shows, the escorts on corners and drag queens standing in doorways. Everything was lit up, bright. Neither Flora nor Regulus had ever seen so many lights, and the flamboyancy of the lights was as prominent in the people walking around them.
"You going to tell me why you've brought him?" Mark said quietly, leaning in closer to Flora as they walked. Regulus was a few steps behind to the left of Flora, still within her peripheral vision. "How do you even know him?"
Flora deliberated, for she still had not come up with a plausible excuse to explain him away. Honesty, she decided, was the best option. "My brother has a flatmate," she began, "And that flatmate has a brother, who is Regulus. He's just visiting. Regulus threatened to tell my brother if I didn't bring him."
Mark frowned. "So, he just wanted to come out? Can't we ditch him somewhere an—"
"No!" Flora said at once, her eyes widening slightly. Mark blinked, taken aback by her abruptness. Flora quickly composed herself. "No, we can't do that. He has to stay with me."
Mark's mouth set into a thin line, his brow furrowing a little with annoyance. "Why?"
"Because…" Flora felt that panic creeping up her again, a panic which took over her brain and made her blurt out, "Because he has a medical condition."
Mark clearly hadn't expected this answer and looked even more perplexed. "Medical condition?" He repeated incredulously, "What kind of medical condition?"
She'd done it now and couldn't find a way to backpedal. Regulus was still visible in the corner of her eye, close at her arm, but too distracted with everything around him to overhear the outrageous lies which came out of Flora's mouth next—
"He has a condition called Chronic Disorientation Syndrome," Flora replied, hardly knowing where the words were coming from. But she couldn't stop. "CDS for short. It's quite rare. It's a… a neurological disorder that makes it hard for him to navigate unfamiliar places and situations. Something to do with his brain being, uh, out of sync with the environment… He could wander off and get hit by a car if I don't keep an eye on him."
Mark looked skeptical, his frown deepening as Flora explained. "Chronic Disorientation Syndrome?" He repeated slowly.
"Mhm," Flora nodded quickly.
"I've never heard of it."
"It's really rare."
"Are you sure he's not just a bit thick?" Mark replied with a smirk. "You're having me on, aren't you?"
"I am not!" Flora replied, indignant, as though Regulus really did have a serious medical condition she had a duty to defend. "He's not thick, and he can't help it. Remember he had trouble with the escalator, and with the ticket machine? That's because of his condition."
Mark's grin widened at her indignation. He glanced back at Regulus, who did indeed look terribly confused by his surroundings and was currently very unaware of the conversation taking place about him.
"Poor bloke."
They managed to find a club which seemed less unsavoury than the rest. It looked to be a goth club and was milling with people in fishnets and very heavy, dramatic makeup. They checked-in their coats and went to the bar to order drinks, Regulus still in tow and looking suddenly like he regretted coming out when he noticed how sticky the floor was. He frowned, cringing at the sheer volume of the place, and leaned in to Flora's ear.
"It's loud!" He said.
Flora rolled her eyes and shrugged, as if to say what do you want me to do about it? She then leaned in to shout into his ear, "What do you want to drink?"
Regulus looked across at the bar, studying the array of bottles on display, but didn't recognise anything he would like. "I don't know," he shouted back.
Flora waved a hand dismissively, an action to indicate she would choose something. She leaned in to Mark, who asked her the same question, and she shoved a bank note into his hand. "Rum and coke. Get Regulus one too."
Mark pushed the money back into her hand. "I'll get them," he replied.
"But Regulus too—"
"Consider it charity for his condition," Mark teased. "You want a single or double?"
"Double."
He nodded and moved away to get closer to the bar, leaving Flora to stand with Regulus, who was eyeing everybody distrustfully. He looked particularly disgruntled when a trio wearing green makeup and pointy hats passed by. Regulus leaned in towards her again, "Are those muggles meant to be dressed up as witches?"
Flora was standing with her arms folded and glanced sidelong at Regulus. "Yes."
"Ridiculous."
"What?"
"I said it's ridiculous," he repeated a little louder.
"You're ridiculous."
He eyed her for a moment, his gaze flickering up and down, until Flora also turned her head to look at him. She frowned questioningly, raising an eyebrow, but Regulus just smirked and looked away.
"What?" Flora demanded.
"What?" he echoed.
"Why are you looking at me?"
"Am I not allowed to look at you?"
He edged a little closer to her until his elbow nudged her arm slightly. He inclined his head in towards her, letting the curls of his hair fall into his eyes. "You should ditch the muggle boy," he said.
Flora gave him a sharp look, blushing. "Excuse me?"
"Ditch him. Let's go somewhere else."
"Mark is my date, not you."
Flora felt her colour increasing, though she tried to keep her voice unaffected. The way he was looking at her through his dark eyelashes made her feel suddenly weak.
Regulus snorted softly. "You call this a date? I wouldn't dream of bringing a woman here. I've never seen anything so uncivilised."
Mark came back balancing three drinks in his hands. Flora took hers and Regulus's, which she handed to him quickly; he made very direct eye contact with her as she handed him his drink before taking a sip. They moved across the room and crowd, Flora pulling Regulus along by the sleeve, until they found an empty booth to sit in. Flora was sandwiched between Mark and Regulus, but the conversation between them excluded Regulus. Presently, he didn't seem bothered, as he was so preoccupied taking in the sights around him. He'd never seen this type of dancing, if it could be called dancing at all, and was bewildered and fascinated by the makeup, costumes and hairstyles some of these muggles were wearing. However, Flora was acutely aware of how close he was to her. He'd spread himself lazily in his seat with his knee touching hers, and occasionally their hands or wrists brushed when they reached for their drinks.
At one point, he tapped her arm and leaned in close to her, resting his hand on her knee. "What are you two talking about?" he asked.
Flora felt her stomach jolt at the warm contact. She didn't look down, but could feel the curve of his palm and the way his long fingers had spread and curled around her knee. She struggled to answer for a moment, distracted as she was by both his hand and the sudden proximity of his beautiful face.
"Uh, muggle stuff," she said in a confused rush. Her face was burning by how delighted she was to feel him touch her like this. As fleetingly as it happened, he withdrew his hand to pick up his drink, looking at her through half-closed eyes as he sipped the last of his rum and coke. Flora stared stupidly.
He put his empty glass down, sat back, and looked at her with that infuriating little smirk. Frowning, Flora quickly downed the rest of her drink and turned to Mark. "Let's dance."
Regulus watched her stand up with Mark, but didn't move. Flora leaned towards him. He could smell her perfume, causing his mind to briefly flicker back to his more guilty memories. Her hair, as it fell forward, tickled his neck.
"You stay here," she said, cupping her mouth to his ear. "I'm going to dance with Mark. Don't go anywhere."
Regulus's brow furrowed. "And leave me sitting here alone?"
Flora suspected he probably wouldn't be sitting alone for very long once she moved away, but she didn't voice this. Instead she tried to ease him off, replying, "Maybe you'll find a pretty muggle girl to dance with."
"There's already one in front of me."
He'd done it again. Her stomach sank and flipped, like a boat being righted. "Just... don't wander off."
Regulus's scowl deepened as Flora told him to stay put, but there was little else he could do. He had invited himself, after all. She'd wanted to come out with Mark, not him, and suddenly it stung a lot more than he expected. He watched her as she moved away to join Mark on the dance floor, just several feet in front of him. He turned his eyes downward to his empty drink, tipping it side to side as he watched the melting ice slide around.
Regulus had accepted that he was fond of Flora, that he was attracted to her, but he had not until now realised the extent of the feelings he harboured for her. Every fibre of his being longed to be in Mark's place. He wanted to be the one to hold her, to make her laugh. Burning hot flames of jealousy lapped against his heart. His reservations about her being a muggle were all but pushed to the very depths of his mind: he suddenly didn't care. He wanted her.
As Flora had expected, one or two small groups of girls came over to sit with Regulus, trying to flirt, but he as he was not the least forthcoming with conversation, they all swiftly left. She thought suddenly of Mr Darcy at the ball refusing to dance with any of the ladies, and then she wondered if he'd read the book she'd left behind for him to find.
Flora kept her eye on him the whole time and frequently came back to check on him. She brought him more drinks—drinks she paid for her with her own money—and sat with him sometimes for five or ten minutes. The fourth time she came back Mark had excused himself to go to the toilet, and Regulus, slightly buzzed from the alcohol, was losing his patience and self-respect; he immediately saw his chance. He caught hold of the sleeve of her dress, forcing her to pause and look at him as he stood up.
"Dance with me," he said.
Flora blinked. She couldn't hear him and pointed to her ear to indicate so. Regulus moved around the table and stood next to her, repeating more loudly, close to her ear, "Dance with me."
Her surprise was evident when she understood. He stood close to her, holding her gaze, and took hold of her hands before she could respond. He led her across the dance floor, further into the fray of moving bodies, but Flora looked over her shoulder uncertainly.
"Mark will be back soon," she said. Her throat was beginning to feel sore from shouting to be heard.
"Fuck that tosser," Regulus took her other hand and pulled her closer to him. "I want to dance with you."
"We can't waltz in here, Regulus," she said teasingly, her lips close to his ear. She drew back to see his face.
He smirked and shook his head, silently conveying that he wasn't interested in waltzing. They had been swallowed by the mass of people dancing and jerking around them, obscured by the flashing strobe lights above. Flora moved a little further onto the dance floor, swaying and glancing behind her at Regulus as the sultry intro to "Happy House" by Siouxsie and the Banshees began to play. It was much hotter in the centre of the club, and tinged with a distinct stench of sweat and hairspray.
Flora's eyes shined in the neon lights, almost coyly, invitingly. She spun around slowly, feeling the rhythm of the music, lifting her arms gracefully above her head, bringing them down again, dreamlike, as if in a daze. Regulus moved in closer and caught hold of her hands, moving with her slowly and then snaked his arm around her waist. She felt so small in his arms, it surprised him a little. The beat of the music picked up and Flora began to jump and spin around, pulling Regulus with her. He didn't know what was going on, but he wasn't complaining this time. He found himself laughing, beaming with pure joy as he stumbled to match her steps, which had no order or cohesion, and Flora felt a terrible urge to throw her arms around him when she saw the dimples bloom in his cheeks.
She knew Mark probably couldn't find her, and for that she felt a little guilty, but she had never seen Regulus look so happy and carefree, like nothing had ever troubled him in his life, and she didn't want to put an end to it just yet. She was enchanted by the sight. She stopped simply to look at him, and when she stopped, Regulus stopped. He was breathing fast, radiant, sweating.
Flora, equally breathless, laughed with him. The music felt suddenly distant. She leaned in to speak again, shouting into his ear, "Can we go outside?"
Regulus nodded, pushing his fingers through his hair. Flora took his hand and pulled him through the crowd to the exit. The chilly nighttime air was refreshing as they stepped outside, meandering along the curb of the pavement for somewhere to sit down. Flora was a little unsteady on her feet and gripped Regulus' arm as they sank down on the corner some several feet away from the club, directly outside a sex shop and a kebab shop on the other side of the street. The smell of kebab meat permeated the air. She leaned against his arm, resting her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. Her mind flickered back to Mark, wondering where he was and if he was looking for her.
Regulus cleared his throat. "I'm having more fun than I expected," he said.
"Mmm," Flora hummed. "I am too… I should probably find Mark though."
Regulus grimaced. "You don't actually like him, do you?"
Flora lifted her head slightly to look at him, her face mere inches away from his as she replied, "Yes, I do like him. He's nice."
"Is that all?"
"And handsome."
"Those are terrible reasons," he shook his head, now also looking at her. His messy curls tickled her forehead and Flora absently lifted her hand to touch them.
"I like him," she repeated, twirling her fingers through his hair. "And you sound jealous."
Regulus caught hold of her hand and turned it over, looking at the lines across her palm, at her long fingers. "That's because I am disgustingly jealous," he said with frank admission.
A small smile came to Flora's lips. She watched him study her hand, spreading her fingers more. "Can you tell my fortune?"
"I wasn't much good at Divination in school," Regulus admitted.
"Then make something up."
"I don't see Mark in your future."
"Oh, shut up," she chided playfully, drawing her hand away. Regulus smirked, still holding onto her hand. He pulled it back to him and seemed to be studying it again. Then daringly, he brought her hand to his lips, and softly kissed her palm. He raised his eyes to hers and found she was looking at him, not with shock or revulsion, but with interest.
Her head was still inclined towards his, resting on his shoulder just under his chin. Regulus dropped her hand and moved his own hand to her cheek, touching her skin lightly, rubbing his thumb over the corner of her mouth. Their faces drew closer and he was uncertain enough to expect her to spring back and slap him. But she did neither of these things. Her eyes flickered to his lips and then back to his eyes, and then before Regulus had time to realise it, her lips closed gently upon his. It was small, chaste kiss, and she drew back to look at him after she had done it.
Regulus then encircled one arm around her and brought his other hand to cup her face, bringing his mouth back to hers. Her mouth was hot, soft, and tasted of salt and alcohol. He took in a sharp breath. He felt like his whole body had opened up, as though Flora had stepped in and taken hold of it. Their tongues touched, uncertain at first, then with greater confidence.
Flora had never been kissed before, and this kiss was how she'd hoped it would be, even if it was outside a kebab shop and sex shop on the damp pavement. She felt like she was in a dream. The sounds of drunk people around them faded away. She leaned in closer, burying her hands in his curls, letting out a breath that sounded something like a soft moan.
"Flora," Regulus murmured her name, breathing hotly into her mouth. "Fuck. I shouldn't like this…"
Flora blinked, dizzy. Regulus' mouth hovered over hers, his nose brushing hers, and then he caught her lips again and kissed her deeply. It was better than anything he'd ever imagined. The hand he held on her waist moved lower to her hips, then to the top of her thigh where her dress had ridden up.
A group of drunk men, messing around in the middle of the street, accidentally dropped a glass bottle a few feet away and began to shout and laugh, which momentarily pulled Flora and Regulus apart. Flora looked at the shattered glass near their feet. Her heart was thudding wildly with the very thought that she had just kissed Regulus Black.
"Flora!" Mark's voice called her from a little way down the street, near the club, and he hurriedly made his way over.
The spell was broken. The real world with all its sights and sounds materialised around them. The sound of Mark's voice, the drunk men stumbling in the street, the broken glass, burning kebab meat, and the neon lights of the sex shop across the street, all served to remind them where they were.
Flora, her heart still racing, turned her body towards Mark as he rushed over, a mix of guilt and confusion on her face. Regulus, too, was jolted unpleasantly back to reality. He dropped his hand from her leg and stared levelly at Mark.
Mark neared them with a small frown on his face, noting the proximity between Flora and Regulus. "I've been looking all over for you," he said. His gaze, when it fell upon Regulus, was not cheerful.
Regulus returned the look coolly, though there was a hint of challenge in is eyes as he regarded Mark.
"I needed some air," Flora stood up, "I'm sorry. I couldn't find you."
"You could've waited," Mark grumbled. "I was only gone five minutes."
"I felt sick," she lied quickly.
Regulus stood up behind her and rested his hand on her waist, his sharp grey eyes still on Mark. "I came to check that she was alright," he said.
This seemed to provoke Mark at once. "That's gallant of you," he said. "But I thought it was her who was supposed to be looking after you. Or does your condition make you think she's your date instead of mine?"
Regulus' eyes narrowed. "Condition?" He frowned. "What condition?"
Flora quickly moved away from him, stepping between them. "See, he doesn't even remember he has it sometimes. Anyway, I feel much better now. Shall we go back inside and dance?" She said in a rush.
"What are you on about?" Regulus looked at her in confusion.
"Come on," she led him by the arm. "We're going back inside to dance."
"No, hang on a minute," Regulus drew back. His gaze shot between her and Mark. "What condition?"
"Chronic Disorientation Syndrome, was it? A convenient excuse for memory loss, I think," Mark put in. "Or perhaps its just a fancy way of saying you can't tell your head from your arse."
Flora wished the ground would open and swallow her. Regulus looked at her with a deep, perplexed frown, and Mark regarded her with evident irritation.
She took a steady breath. "Actually, I do feel quite unwell. I think I should go home," she said weakly, longing for a way out.
"Perhaps that's a good idea," Regulus agreed solemnly.
Mark's initial anger softened slightly when he noticed Flora appeared close to tears. He realised something was going on and that Flora had dealt with it badly. He sighed heavily and pushed his hands through his long hair, nodding. "Alright. I'll take you home."
Flora couldn't refuse the offer if she wanted to keep up her pretence about Regulus, even though she knew it was falling to pieces catastrophically. The three of them walked back to the station in silence, and sat in silence the whole forty-minute ride back. Flora didn't know whether to blame herself or Regulus anymore.
Mark only spoke when they arrived outside Remus' and Sirius' flat. "Right then," he said quietly. "See you later, Flora."
He gave her a short, awkward hug and didn't look at Regulus, who was looking at him darkly. Flora nodded in response. "Bye."
Flora hurriedly shoved the key into the building's heavy front door, opened it and closed it, then leaned against the wall and rubbed her face so much she smeared black and white makeup all over her hands. They were standing at the bottom of the stairs.
Regulus stepped towards her, resting his hands on her hips. But Flora pushed him off.
"This is your fault," she hissed.
"What's my fault?" He frowned.
"You've spoiled everything!" She replied sharply.
His frown deepened. "It sounds like you were the one telling absurd lies," he pointed out.
"And I wouldn't have had to if you'd stayed here," she snapped back. She pushed herself off the wall and moved over to the stairs, then stopped again to take her boots off to avoid making any noise. She stumbled a little and Regulus caught her by the elbow.
"You're not allowed to go anywhere without me or Sirius or your bro—" he started.
"I am not a child!" She exclaimed, half raising her voice and throwing her boots down loudly. She didn't care anymore. If Remus discovered them, all the better, she thought. She was not going to stand for this any longer.
Regulus' eyes widened. Though Flora suddenly didn't seem concerned about being quiet and concealing the fact she'd been out, Regulus most certainly was concerned about hiding this fact for himself. He didn't want to think of the trouble he would be in with Sirius and the Order.
"Shhh!" He put his hand to her mouth.
Flora shook him off and glared angrily, breathing fast. They both became quiet again, listening anxiously for any sounds above, but the building remained miraculously still. Flora, her gaze still fixed on him, felt her anger begin to melt away until it was replaced by that familiar ache in her heart, that pleasant sinking feeling in her stomach. Moving on impulse, she leaned in and kissed him. Every thought in Regulus' mind dissipated and he kissed her back fiercely. The anger and desire they had for each other was mingled in this kiss.
"Come back with me tomorrow," Regulus breathed as he pressed smaller kisses to the corners of her mouth and jawline. "Please come back."
"No, I can't," she protested weakly, her eyes closed, her head tilting to the side as he moved his kisses to her neck.
"Just for a little while," he pleaded, his voice low and persuasive. "I'll be better. I've been trying to be better."
In his arms, Flora felt a mixture of desire and wariness. She was also feeling horribly guilty about Mark and knew she owed him an explanation. She shook her head again even as he brought his lips back to hers. Their tongues joined, searching each other's mouths gently.
"No…" she moaned, turning her head aside, breaking the kiss. "You're too much, and you drive me crazy, and I can't… I can't…"
He pulled away slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, his gaze earnest and pleading. Like Flora, most of the makeup on his face was smudged and faded. His hands gripped her hips.
"Please, just come back for…for a week. Just one week," he said softly. "Or a few days."
Flora stared back at him, her resolve weakening in her half-inebriated state. "A few days?" She said quietly.
Regulus smiled, hope flourishing in his chest. "A few days," he repeated.