Chapter Text
Regulus thought that this was some sort of karmic justice for whatever the fuck was wrong with him; for letting it get that far. (Even if a voice in the back of his head that sounded an awful lot like Max insisted there was nothing wrong with him, and there was nothing he could do to change it).
He stood in Twillfit and Tattings for his fitting for Narcissa’s wedding, and on the podium next to him was Evan Rosier.
Evan was behaving himself – not winking or whispering or flirting – possibly because of the adults nearby, but Regulus found himself stealing glances. Even Max, surely, would admit that there was something wrong with Regulus’s attraction to Evan. If only because Evan was so – racist and conceited and obnoxious.
Because that’s what it was, much as Regulus tried to bury it down somewhere deep inside himself. He was attracted to Evan Rosier. He wanted to snog him, and he was certain that Narcissa’s wedding would be torture with Evan never far (and Max all the way in Dorset).
“You’ve grown so much since these were purchased, Mr. Black,” the shopwitch said, adjusting the robes Narcissa had selected for him over Christmas holidays the year before.
He had the distinct feeling that he ought to apologise, although he wasn’t sure why. It was hardly his fault that he’d grown; he was nearly fourteen years old. It had been Narcissa who’d insisted on ordering the robes for her two teenage cousins over six months in advance, not him.
Evan caught his eye then and smirked. Regulus willed himself not to blush, but he felt his heartbeat quicken regardless.
One thing was certain: he needed to get this under control before the wedding itself.
To his horror, he and Evan were ushered into what had become the bridal wing of Malfoy Manor the morning of the wedding. To be sure, Narcissa was his cousin (and Evan’s too, even if he and Evan weren’t directly related), but Sirius had been allowed to stay home and arrive with the other guests, and all of the other boys in the wedding were in the groom’s wing.
Anxiety swirled deep in his gut, telling him that Narcissa knew , somehow, as he and Evan walked down the hall. He tried to reason with himself – he’d given Narcissa no reason to be suspicious. She’d always favoured him, and he really didn’t get along very well with Lucius Malfoy, so why would he be in the groom’s wing?
And as for Evan – well, Regulus wasn’t sure why Evan was there, except as a clue from Narcissa to encourage Regulus to make proper Pureblood friends. Evan wasn’t like Max; he didn’t throw an arm around his shoulder or hold his hand or otherwise try to be physically close to him. He walked with intent, and with six inches of space between himself and Regulus.
He acted, Regulus realised, like he hadn’t spent the past seven months flirting endlessly with him whenever he saw him. Like a proper pureblood son ought to act.
They were admitted into a small room where their robes hung, ready to put on, and the door was shut behind them. Evan’s eyes sweeped the room, as did Regulus’s, and Evan, coming to the same conclusion as Regulus doubtlessly did (that there were no portraits in this room; no one to spy on them) turned to him and grinned. “Wanna snog?”
Regulus stepped away. “No,” he said. “I’ve told you before.”
Evan laughed and shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying,” he said as he stripped down to his pants. Regulus looked determinedly at the pattern on the wallpaper. “It’s no fun if you don’t look,” Evan said.
“It’s not meant to be fun,” Regulus said. “We’re preparing for Cissa’s wedding.” To demonstrate his point, he undressed deliberately and changed into his own dress robes. He was aware of Evan’s eyes on him the entire time. It made him feel self-conscious, but he knew he couldn’t dare look at Evan to see what sort of expression he had on his face. Evan didn’t touch him, at least, which was a relief, because Regulus wasn’t sure how he’d react.
He buttoned up his robes and glanced over to Evan, who was still just in his pants. Not that Regulus really looked. He certainly didn’t spare a second glance to see if he was imagining Evan’s boner.
“Really?” he asked.
“Got you to look, didn’t I?” Evan asked with a wink. He threw on his own robes, and Regulus examined his fingernails, trying to seem blasé. “I was serious when I said I fancied you,” Evan said as he buttoned his robes. “I wouldn’t lie about that. Whatever you want – if you want it to just be physical, or a full-fledged affaire de cœur – I’m up for anything. As discreet or public as you’d like.”
“I’m not interested in any of that, Evan,” Regulus said. “I like girls.”
Evan laughed. “Sure you do. Do you believe yourself yet?”
He didn’t, but he didn’t tell Evan that. “I do,” he lied. “Because it’s the truth.”
“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Evan said. “I know Cissa expects me to write back on you – which isn’t difficult, because I’m always paying mind to you, anyway – but I wouldn’t tell her about us.”
It was the first thing Evan had said that had been delivered with any sort of gravity, and it unsettled Regulus deeply. Did Evan genuinely want to be with him? But it didn’t matter if he did, Regulus reminded himself, because he had duties to fulfil, and while Evan’s parents might forgive a dalliance or two provided he marry the right witch… Regulus knew his own parents wouldn’t be nearly as forgiving.
And if he were going to be with another wizard, he was sure he could do better than Evan Rosier. Charming though he may be. And handsome.
“We should see if Cissa needs anything,” Regulus said, ignoring Evan’s statement.
Narcissa did look absolutely stunning. She was already in her pristine white, designer dress robes when Regulus and Evan knocked at the door. Bellatrix let them in, coupe of champagne in hand. Regulus wasn’t sure whether she’d be less or more terrifying while she’d been drinking.
“Cissy, the girls are here!” she called.
“Oh, don’t call them that, Bella!” Narcissa called from deeper inside the room. “Come in, boys!”
Bellatrix stepped aside and allowed Regulus and Evan to enter. He didn’t like the look Bellatrix was giving them, and made a note to ask Evan if Bellatrix made him uncomfortable, too. After all, it was hardly just him, right? (And Sirius, but Sirius antagonised everyone in their family, so he hardly counted in that).
“Oh, don’t you both look handsome?” Narcissa said when she saw them.
“Thank you, Cissa,” Regulus said, preening a bit. “You look absolutely lovely.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Reg, darling. I’m just so happy, truthfully. In a matter of mere hours, I’ll be Mrs. Lucius Malfoy.”
The idea horrified Regulus, but he kept the smile plastered on his face. This was Narcissa’s day; it wasn’t time for him to think about how miserable this all would make him when it was inevitably his turn. She was happy. Perhaps he could be, too.
A stylist worked on Narcissa’s hair as she drank champagne and made small talk. She asked Regulus and Evan about school, Quidditch, and Slug Club. Regulus asked her about her honeymoon plans, and Narcissa began to gush.
The plans sounded ostentatious and horrible – far too much to do in too short a period of time, but she sounded excited. “I know this is the happiest day of my life, but I truly can’t wait to be alone with Lucius.”
Over Narcissa’s shoulder, Evan pulled a face, and Regulus fought back a smile.