CHAPTER TWENTY: REQUITING
Flora deliberated over the idea of calling Mark as she lay in bed that night. It wasn't so a matter of if, but more a matter of when. She wanted to apologise to him, to try and explain, but she was still playing the game that magazines and girls at school had taught her — wait a bit, don't call immediately and risk looking desperate. Wait.
So she didn't call the following day. She rose before Regulus to shower and dress, then went outside to survey the carnage he'd probably done to her flowers. It was a chilly November morning, the second day of the month, and she remembered suddenly that it was Sirius' twenty-first birthday tomorrow as she knelt down to tug up a stubborn weed. Surprisingly, her flower beds still appeared to be in order. Some of her autumn flowers were coming out, and her orange rose bush had bloomed. She happily continued to pull weeds up, discarding them in the pile where Regulus had left off.
He preoccupied her mind as she worked, half with pleasure and half with fear. She could not shake the dread that he would turn around and declare it all a big mistake, especially once the war was over. Whether he truly had it in him to change, Flora couldn't guess with any confidence. Remus—and even Sirius for that matter—had often warned Flora about boys, and their dire warnings came back to her now. Perhaps he was just using her.
Flora was spiraling in these thoughts when Regulus' voice behind her interrupted. She jumped a little and turned around to see him holding two cups of tea.
"Are the flowers alright?" He asked, looking a little worried. He held out one cup for her to take.
"Thanks," she took the hot tea carefully and looked back at the flower beds behind her. "They're doing quite well actually. My chrysanthemums have flowered," she pointed to a group of yellow and orange flowers.
"I didn't know flowers still came up at this time of year," Regulus replied.
"Only certain kinds. I planted these last spring so they would grow this autumn. Brighten the garden up a little. And look, my rose bushes are blooming too."
Regulus nodded. "I am glad I didn't pull up anything I shouldn't have."
"So am I," Flora agreed, taking a sip of her drink. "You had me worried. But it's fine, so thank you."
They both sipped their tea in silence for a long moment. Regulus was standing relatively close to her, just at her elbow. They both knew their situation was strange, admittedly even a little awkward. Yesterday had been a breakthrough, but both were unsure of how to proceed. They stood listening to the birds in the trees above, the flutter of wings taking off branches, the odd crackle of mice scurrying under the fallen leaves. Each time they released a breath, the air around them clouded.
"What are you going to do today?" Regulus finally asked, looking at her sidelong.
"Well," Flora considered, drumming her fingers along her cup. "I was thinking, as it's your brother's birthday tomorrow, why don't we organise a little party for him?"
Predictably, Regulus scrunched his nose up at the idea. "A party?"
"Just us, and Remus I suppose," she said a little grudgingly.
"I don't have a present for him," Regulus reasoned lamely. "I've no access to money."
"Then make something for him, like a card. I'll bake him a cake. I also knitted a little black dog ages ago for him, I just need to finish the tail."
Flora turned and began to walk back to the cottage as she made these plans aloud. Regulus followed with a small frown on his face, clearly less than thrilled with the idea but resigned because Flora had already made up her mind. She put her tea aside once she reached the living room and began searching down the sides of the cushions for something, huffing and sighing under her breath.
"What are you looking for?" Regulus asked.
"My two-way mirror," she said as she was pulling up the larger cushions of the sofa.
In a shot, Regulus accio'ed the very thing she was seeking (it was under the armchair) and handed it to her. Flora wasn't sure whether she would get a response this early in the morning, but she knew Sirius and Remus always kept their mirror on hand in case of emergencies. To her dismay, Remus answered first. He was in bed and had clearly just woken up.
"I'd like to speak to Sirius, please," she said stiffly, as though making a formal phone call. And, simply to be contrary, she said it in Welsh.
Remus rubbed his face sleepily, uncomprehending. "What?"
"Pass me to Sirius," she reiterated impatiently, still in Welsh.
Regulus stretched out on the sofa directly behind Flora and picked up his newest Quidditch magazine, pretending to read it while she waited to speak to Sirius. He'd never properly heard her speak Welsh until now and was listening with interest to the melodic shape of her words, even if it was passively unfriendly. She sat down on the edge of the sofa by his feet.
Remus passed the mirror over to Sirius—who, Flora noticed uncomfortably, was apparently lying right next to him in bed. Sirius, though groggy, was a little brighter with her and quickly grew interested as Flora made her proposal about the party. Sirius was amenable to the idea and it was arranged quickly in a short exchange, at which point Flora rose from the sofa, carelessly tossed the mirror aside, and disappeared into the kitchen to begin baking a cake.
Regulus sighed to himself and stared across at the great number of books stacked along the shelves. He didn't want a party, small as it may be. He just wanted to be alone with Flora. He had stayed awake reading Pride and Prejudice the previous night. Though he was enjoying the novel, it was a distraction he had sought above all else. They still kept to their own routine, except last night they had paused to say goodnight on the landing before going to their rooms. Uncertainty crept between them then as it continued to do now. Regulus hadn't been sure if he should kiss her goodnight; he'd been somewhat stiff with her, awkward, and in the end fled quickly without kissing her and then sorely wishing he had.
When the cake was cooking in the oven some fifteen minutes later, Regulus got up from the sofa and came into the kitchen with new determination. He would kiss her. Why should he not? But his timidity resurfaced as he laid his eyes on her. Flora was licking cake batter off her fingers, unaware of his presence, and for a moment Regulus' gaze was fixated on her glistening fingers. When Flora sensed him and turned her head, she looked at him with a tranquil, lazy sort of smile, one finger still pressed to her parted lips. Regulus swallowed thickly, losing all sense of perspective. He moved to her and encircled her by the waist.
Flora let out a little surprised gasp and at once wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He was so much taller than her she had to lift her head slightly to meet his eyes; to meet his lips, she raised herself up on her toes like a ballerina, and Regulus held her up like he was her partner in dance. There was more desperation to their kisses this time, a gasping neediness.
Flora's previous worries dissipated as he kissed her. She felt wanted, not used. Regulus was kissing her like a wild animal, his hair falling over his forehead, holding her so tightly she was imprisoned by his arms.
"You're suffocating me," Flora laughed softly.
Regulus loosened his arms a little and smiled, "Sorry," he murmured. He eased Flora back down to the flats of her feet and dipped down to kiss her, meeting her height, before suddenly lifting her and placing her on the kitchen counter. A spoon went clattering to the floor, and the bowls she'd been measuring things into were all grievously pushed aside. Flora, with Regulus now standing between her legs, wrapped them around his waist and pushed herself closer. His hips were level with the counter. She looked at him, her hands planted on his shoulders.
"Do you still like this?" Regulus asked in a low voice, trailing kisses down her neck. "It's okay?"
"Yes," Flora breathed back. "Yes, it's okay."
He had awakened her body and she felt pleasure pooling in the extremities of her stomach. She had no experience, but she knew in a vague way what she wanted. Regulus' hands were on her waist, his fingers softly digging into her flesh; Flora took hold of one of his hands and guided it upwards to her breast, which was concealed under a shapeless jumper. Emboldened, Regulus spread his fingers and then closed them to envelope her small breast under his hand, feeling its roundness, its subtle heaviness, and squeezing gently. He moaned under his breath as he continued to kiss her, open-mouthed, their tongues together.
Flora's hands wandered over the small contours of his chest. He was slight in frame, though he had put some weight on since living with her, but he was definitively slim. The muscles of his chest and arms were likewise small, but they were surprisingly firm and strong. Flora had always had the impression she would not feel safe in the arms of a heavy-set man, for she felt they would crush her, step on her like a wildflower in a field. In Regulus' slender arms she felt nothing could harm her. He held her so tenderly.
Flora let her head fall back as he kissed her jawline and neck. She moved her hands to his hair, grasping it. One of her legs slid down from his waist, but he grabbed it and hooked it under his arm, holding her in place. They paused for a moment, their breathing heavy and laboured; Regulus lifted his head to look at her, his grey eyes dilated with desire. He brought his lips back to hers but didn't touch them, instead letting them hover above hers. The tip of his nose brushed hers and he swallowed thickly.
He was about to speak when the timer on the oven—a shrill, piercing sound like an alarm clock—went off, making them both jump violently.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Flora breathed, her hand fluttering over her heart. She then started to laugh and Regulus breathed out a soft laugh too, resting his forehead against hers.
He closed his eyes a moment. "That's not the first time muggle inventions have scared the shit out of me."
"I honestly don't know how you've survived this long," she wriggled her way off the counter and out of his arms to see to her cake. She quickly deposited two separate cake tins on the table, lightly pressed the centre of the cakes with her finger to test they were fully cooked, and then switched the oven off.
"What kind of cake is it going to be?" Regulus asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Now they had broken the ice again, he couldn't seem to keep his hands off her.
"Victoria sponge," she replied, resting her hands on his. "I'll let them sit a minute or two, then put them to cool."
"Can't we have it today?" He said, eyeing the cake hungrily.
She shuffled around to face him. "No, you have to wait until tomorrow."
He grumbled something incoherent and just held her for a moment, his chin resting on her head and Flora with her cheek against his shoulder.
"Do you want to help me decorate it?" Flora asked after half a minute had passed.
"You'll need to show me how," Regulus replied a little uncertainly.
They spent the early afternoon decorating Sirius' cake—a simple jam and buttercream with star sprinkles—and then spent the rest of the afternoon kissing in the living room and listening to Flora's new records. Regulus, though he wouldn't admit it, was growing rather fond of her muggle music. He liked The Cure in particular for its subdued moodiness and was privately happy to discover she'd purchased the entire album. It suited the gloomy day well.
By half past four, the sun had set and they were sprawled out on the floor together. It was Sunday, so Flora reasoned they were allowed to be lazy. She lay with her head on his chest, Regulus with his arms wrapped around her. They were listening to one of her mum's records now, The Zombies.
"I'm tired," Flora yawned.
"Mmm," Regulus murmured in quiet agreement.
Flora happened to glance upwards at the telephone on a corner table and thought uneasily of Mark. As if reading her thoughts, Regulus asked suddenly and slightly cuttingly, "What did shop boy want?"
Flora sat up on her elbow, pushing her hair back. It had grown long over the last few months and now reached her chest.
"He wants me to call him," Flora replied.
A small frown darkened Regulus' brow. "Why?"
"I don't know," she shrugged truthfully. The date had gone catastrophically bad, she couldn't understand why he still wanted to talk to her. "I should apologise to him anyway, so I probably will call—"
"Apologise for what?" Regulus interrupted.
"What do you mean for what?" Flora gave him a disapproving, though somewhat playful look. "It was a date and I brought another boy with me, a boy who then," she went on, trailing her fingers up his navel and down again, "seduced and stole me from said date."
The frown on Regulus' face crept into a smirk, as though he were proud of himself. "Yeah, well, he was a wanker. But if you want to marry him and eat haggis for the rest of your life, I suppose that's none of my business."
"He's nice," she chided, rolling her eyes. "He just wasn't very nice to you because you were rude to him."
"I could've been ruder."
Flora snorted softly. "I believe it."
He watched her hand as it crept over the uncovered skin, the small trailing dark hairs below his belly button, just between his trouser waistband and shirt. He took in a small, sharp breath.
"Don't do that," he breathed lowly.
Flora lifted her eyes to meet his, smirked and placed the flat of her palm over his navel. "Did you tell that house elf to not come back?" She asked. At lunchtime, Flora had disappeared upstairs and left Regulus to speak to the elf.
"Yes," he replied, still eyeing her hand as her fingers continued to tease his bare skin. His trousers suddenly felt a lot tighter.
"I'm sure he's a very nice elf," she said, feeling a little guilty. She idly moved her hand up to his chest. "But I can't… it's the eyes… the nose… everything…"
Regulus smiled sympathetically. "I think you're just remembering Kreacher. They're not all as terrifying as him."
"And you had to live with him. Weren't you scared?"
"No," Regulus shook his head. "Honestly, I was very fond of him."
"Fond?" Flora echoed, incredulous.
"Not many people are kind to house elves," he explained, lightly tracing his fingers up and down her arm. She'd removed her jumper and was just in a button-up dress. "I've always felt a bit sorry for them. Kreacher has been very loyal to my family and to me. I felt he deserved the same respect."
Flora couldn't comprehend why he was more respectful of those awful creatures than he was of muggles, but she didn't voice this. She would never have been unkind to an elf, but she also would never voluntarily be in the same room as one. They made her shudder.
"I still think it is bizarre we walked by each other all those years ago," Regulus said.
"We probably walked by each other every year," Flora mused. "I always came to say goodbye to Remus. It was where I met Sirius for the first time. Chances are I saw you as well."
"When did you meet Sirius?"
"When Remus started his second year."
Regulus paused to think for a moment, mulling over a memory he had until now believed was insignificant. "Were you the girl standing next to Remus?"
Flora blinked. "Well, probably. But it could've been Lily. She's married and got a baby now, did you know?"
"No, it wasn't her," he shook his head, "It was a little girl." He hovered his hand over the floor to make some vague indication of height. "Sirius dragged me over to meet Remus and he was standing with a girl, and it might've been you now that I think about it. Do you… do you not remember?"
Flora considered, then shook her head. "Not really. I was very shy and was hiding behind him in case of house elves."
Regulus smirked and shook his head. "How will I take you out in my world if you're so scared of everything?"
"I'm not scared of everything," Flora frowned. "Just house elves. Anyway, you're one to talk. You're scared of escalators and oven clocks and televisions and—"
Regulus raised himself up slightly to pull her down next to him. "Oh, shut up," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he kissed her.
He kissed her goodnight that evening when they went to bed. For a moment after, they held each other's gazes as they stood on the landing. If Flora invited him into her room, she knew what would happen. But they said goodnight and retreated to their respective rooms, though neither slept. Flora stayed awake finishing the tail on the knitted dog for Sirius, then made it a small scarf in Gryffindor colours, but the repetition of the task did nothing to distract her from thoughts of him. Regulus tried to read, but the words swam before his eyes.
Flora had not yet changed her bedding and was making a mental plan to do it the next day when she noticed a long dark hair on her pillow. She had been plumping her pillows, trying to get comfortable, when she saw it; she picked it up carefully and held it to the lamplight. Flora's hair was not as dark as Regulus' hair, which almost looked black in certain lights. She thought back to when she had imagined she'd smelled him on her pillow, now feeling less certain she'd imagined it after all. He had been in her room, on her bed.
She wrapped the hair around her finger and laid back. The knowledge that he had been in her room was both thrilling and disturbing. Why he had been there in the first place though was an answer which evaded her. She rolled over and sought out the scent of him, burying herself deeper as she searched, wishing suddenly she was in his arms, his skin against hers, his breath hot on her neck like it had been that afternoon. The thought that he was only next door was maddening. And she couldn't find his scent anymore; all she could smell was her own shampoo and perfume, and the faint hints of lavender from the linen cupboard. It was not him.
She thought of his letter and a shiver passed through her body. In hindsight, she wished she hadn't flown off the handle with him. She had the same temper as Remus, and granted she had already been upset with him for calling her cruel names, but reading those words had stirred something in her even then. She tried to recall the exact wording of his letter but could only conjure the essence of it. It was enough, however. Her blood was fired thinking about him, and her fingers slipped between her parted thighs with the feeling she would never be able to control herself again.
It was nearly midnight by the time Flora finally fell asleep, and one o'clock for Regulus. They both slept late into the morning. Flora, as before, was downstairs before Regulus making breakfast. When the latter came down, he had not expected to see her brother sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of toast and cup of coffee. Remus cast Regulus a dark look, but otherwise ignored him as he continued to speak to Flora. At a glance, they seemed on slightly better terms, though Flora was still somewhat stiff with him as she sat and ate her breakfast opposite.
"Look, if you come back for a bit, I'll take you to the pictures," Remus said.
"I don't want to go to the pictures," Flora sniffed.
"You wanted to see that horror film. What was it… The Shimmering?"
"The Shining," she corrected with a little sigh.
"The Shining," he repeated. "I'll take you to see it."
"It's not out until next week."
"Then we'll see something else this week, then I'll take you to see that next week."
She gave him a steady, measured look as she sipped her drink. "Did you know it's about a family stuck in the middle of nowhere together? The dad has a mental breakdown and tries to kill his wife and son. I read the book already."
Remus stared back at her with the same steady gaze. Flora continued to eat her breakfast and glanced over his shoulder at Regulus, who was making himself tea without magic.
"Good morning, Regulus," she said, a little more brightly.
Regulus gave her a small, quick smile that Remus didn't see. "Morning."
The fact Regulus verbally replied instead of giving his usual grunt of response took Remus by surprise. He looked behind him as though to check it was Regulus and not somebody else.
"Wake up on the right side of the bed this morning, Regulus?" Remus asked dryly.
Regulus' shot him a scathing look, stirring his drink. "I thought I had until I discovered you were here."
"Remus came to say sorry for overreacting," Flora said. Regulus noticed now that she had a small stack of chocolate next to her—chocolate frogs and chocolate wands and chocolate bars. An obvious peace offering.
"I never said I was overreacting," Remus put in with a small frown.
"Didn't you?" Flora tilted her head, "Because you should have."
"It was a bloody stupid thing to do, Flo. You know it was."
"I'm not arguing with you again," Flora sighed in irritation. "I want to have a nice day today. I've made Sirius a cake."
Remus glanced over at the cake, which was sitting at the other end of the table. Flora then added, "Regulus helped me decorate it."
"Did he?" Remus raised an eyebrow.
Regulus sat down beside Flora at the table with his cup of tea, earning himself another curious look from Remus. Remus, generally, was not the most perceptive, but the short interaction he had witnessed between them so far was telling him something was amiss. He sensed the peace between them and it disturbed him for he distrusted Regulus so deeply. His determination to take Flora back to London only increased.
But Flora would not relent. She would stay. So Remus, somewhat begrudgingly, left around half an hour later, arranging to come back with Sirius at five. Flora at once got to work with the cooking and more baking while she set Regulus the task of decorating the living room—hanging a colourful bunting across the mantelpiece and blowing up balloons. Flora hadn't expected him to come back in mere seconds telling her he'd finished.
She blinked. "What?"
"Done it," he said, leaning against the counter.
Flora stared at him blankly for a second, then realised. Magic. Of course. She had only just started preparing the quiche and was at once disheartened at thinking how long all her cooking was going to take.
Regulus smiled softly at her. "I don't know any cooking spells, but perhaps I can help," he offered, lifting his wand.
"No!" Flora said at once, moving the dish and covering it with her arm. "Remus did that once and it was chaos. I'm sure there are still soup stains on the ceiling."
He lowered his wand, seeing her point. "Alright then. What shall I do?"
She glanced around. The house was still quite clean and tidy because of Pod's housekeeping, so there was nothing she could immediately see that needed attention.
"Um, if you can, would you go up and strip my bed? Yours too if it needs doing. I'll put a wash on."
Regulus looked a little surprised by the request. "Your bed?"
"Mhm," she nodded, avoiding his eye. She continued chopping up onions. "Please."
"Your room?" He began to take some uncertain steps towards the stairs.
"That is where my bed is, Regulus, yes," she said a little impatiently, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "Although you already know that well enough, I think."
He paused, going a little pink, unsure if she meant what he thought she meant. She didn't say it bitterly; her tone was brisk but quiet, almost shy, and she'd lowered her gaze. Regulus left the kitchen quickly and wordlessly, taking the stairs two at a time. He did his own bed first and he used magic to do it, but he took his time in Flora's bedroom, stripping her unmade bed by hand. The room felt warmer than downstairs, heady with her recent presence—her perspiration, her breath; it was pleasantly potent to Regulus and he wished he could wrap himself in it like a cloak. He had just begun to take the pillowcases off when he heard a noise behind him. Flora stood in the doorway uncertainly, loitering as though she were nervous to enter her own bedroom. Regulus stopped and looked at her, feeling suddenly like he had a large pill in his throat.
"You were in my room, weren't you?" She asked. "While I was away."
Only two weeks ago there had been little hope between them. Drawing back further to the beginning of September and there had been no hope at all. The derision Regulus had once treated her with seemed an impassable hurdle, and now in a relatively short period of time they stood here looking at one another with such piteous, sickening longing. Regulus searched her face for some sign of their future darkening, for some quarrel, but Flora's eyes were clear and open. She wasn't accusing him, she was seeking confirmation so that they could move forward.
For several seconds they continued to stare at each other. Regulus couldn't speak. When he did finally answer her, it was with guilty admission.
"Yes," he said.
"Why?" She stepped into her room and folded her arms across her chest. It was not a defensive stance, but a self-conscious movement of not knowing how to hold herself.
He felt compelled to be honest, but the words felt weak and hollow as they left his mouth. Admitting the entire truth of what he had done was too shameful.
"I…I don't know," he replied, avoiding her eye. "I wanted to be close to you."
Flora studied his face closely, searching. "That's all?"
He nodded once. "Yes… I know it's—it's weird. But I missed you," he finally looked at her again. "I wanted to feel near you."
In spite of her confusion and all her questions, she moved closer to him and unfolded her arms, letting them drop to her sides. "But… what did you do?"
Regulus shook his head and glanced aside, shrugging. "Nothing," he lied. He closed the small distance between them, taking hold of her hips gently. "I fell asleep on your bed."
To his relief and surprise, her lips curled into a teasing smile. "You're unbelievably weird."
He let out a breath through his nose, smirking. He brought his hand to her face and rubbed his thumb against her cheek and the contours of her small mouth before kissing her softly.
"Are we getting drunk tonight?" Flora murmured.
"I'll do whatever you do."
"I want to get drunk."
"Then we'll get drunk," he slid his hands around her waist, dipped his head down to kiss her again. "As drunk as you want."
Kissing her so freely made him feel like a different person. He no longer felt the burden and weight of his identity, the legacy that came with his name. In moments like this, he was not Regulus Black, heir to the ancient and noble House of Black, but simply a boy kissing the girl he adored. And he really did adore Flora. It was all-consuming adoration, a desire to do anything she wished, anything to make her happy.
Flora's hands wandered over the planes of his back. He had no pain from his injuries anymore, but he still jolted slightly when he felt her fingers find their way under the back of his shirt and touch the raised, broken skin along his torso. He broke the kiss and eased her hands away, bringing them to the small space between their chests. He at once saw the question in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she started, "I didn't mean to—"
She had seen the scars before, caught in moments when Regulus encountered her without his shirt on, but there was a silent understanding between them to never mention their existence. He'd never told her how he got them, and Flora never asked. She knew in some vague way what had happened from details she had gathered from either Sirius or Remus, but she never felt it was in her right to ask Regulus herself. Truthfully, she had forgotten the scars were there.
"It's okay," he murmured, not knowing what else to say.
Flora moved her hands up to his shoulders and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I should get back to cooking. I only have three hours left to get it done."
"Are you sure there's nothing you want me to do?" He asked.
"Just finish stripping my bed so I can put the washing on."
He nodded, kissed her lightly, then released her from his arms. Flora went back downstairs to the kitchen.
AN: The Cure album referenced is 'Seventeen Seconds' if anyone cares, and I was absolutely listening to them while I wrote this.