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Chapter Text

ℌave you ever wondered if you were in the right place in life? You must have; everyone does at some point. But if you haven't, here's a piece of advice for you. If you, by any chance, ever end up somewhere where Walburga Black is the one to greet you in the hallway, you're in a terrible place. That's when you should turn around and run as far as you can without looking back.

Unfortunately, fleeing tonight was not an option for me. The only thing I could do was cross the threshold and enter the underworld. The underworld in this case was 12 Grimmauld Place where I would have to spend my whole evening enduring the greatest torments of hellfire. 

"Theodore! So wonderful to see you again!" Walburga greeted my father, offering one of her many hideous smiles. Baba Yaga would have been a supermodel compared to this woman; it was a real miracle that her two sons turned out to be good-looking blokes when she herself was the nastiest hag I had ever had the misfortune to come across. "I am so thrilled that all three of you could come. It has been while since you visited our little abode."

Her little abode was anything but little or humble of any sort. The furniture was exceedingly rich, nothing I wasn't already used to. I have spent the past almost eighteen years in similarly lavishly decorated homes, my own included. The more time that went by, the more boring I found these obligatory parties held in the most luxurious – and unnecessary – circumstances.

"Theodore, you have been avoiding us for a while now." Walburga now turned to my brother, wagging a wizened finger at him in a manner that intended to be playful, but it only turned out to be frightening. "I am delighted that you are honoring us with your presence tonight, however rare it is for you to make an appearance at any soirees."

"I've got quite some work to do these days," Theo answered, speaking through firmly set teeth, “but I wouldn't have missed out on your summer celebration party for the world, Mrs. Black."

"Well, that certainly is an honor,” she chuckled the most effortful fake laughter I had ever heard. I could do a much better one than that, and it only took me a little bit of practice in front of the bathroom mirror. "Druella was terribly sad when you would not show up to her own party last week."

"My son has been extremely busy recently," Father joined in the conversation, placing a reassuring hand on my brother's shoulder. "He barely leaves his study. Even his wife misses him."

I could only ever dream about him calling me his son, or treating me similarly affectionately. He would only call me boy all my life, his tone and expression always very cold when addressing me. No wonder. He and my brother were the two current Theodores of the Nott clan. Ever since Cantankerus Nott made the Sacred Twenty-Eight list and named his first-born and only son Theodore, it has been a long-running tradition to call all males that way. A second son – me – was never on the agenda, and they both made sure to remind me of this every single day.

"Oh, Louisa! How is she?" Walburga clapped her hands lightly. "When is her due date?"

"Possibly next week," Theo replied, his lips tightening in a prim line. "She's well... a bit tired. She sends you her regards."

I stood there in silence, patiently waiting for my turn to be interrogated. So far, I have been thoroughly ignored. This was, of course, merely an attempt to put me in my place. I could never truly be ignored by anyone, least of all these people here. You could just imagine an elephant in a small crowded room and you will know how unnoticeable I was with my height of about six feet and six inches.

It was an obligation to endure Walburga's probable investigation, just as I had already persisted all the other boring old hags' respective cross-examinations. Ever since my return from Hogwarts, I have been going from tea party to tea party to pay my respects as Father so aptly put it. 

These events were much rather for me to appeal for forgiveness for my unruly behavior. I didn't think beating up Avery, Yaxley and Mulciber until they collapsed in a bloody heap could be specified as an unruly behavior. If anything, it was a very admirable behavior, but naturally, no one would agree with me on this one.

I could have already been somewhere else, drinking a cocktail on some beach in Spain if everything went according to the plan. That is, become a blood traitor, get disowned and leave this hellhole forever. Seeing as I was still stuck here, listening to my brother and Walburga Black discuss when my sister-in-law was going to give birth, it was safe to say that nothing went according to the plan.

" … and of course, Felix is here," Walburga's shrill voice jerked me from my thoughts. "I must say, I was deeply disappointed when I heard the rumors... hurting Avery, Yaxley and Mulciber! That is unheard of."

"Boys will be boys, isn't that right? Still, I can assure you that no similar incident will happen ever again," Father answered, his voice thick with disdain. 

"Well..." She curled her lip in a pitying grimace as she first looked at me, then Theodore before her gaze shifted back to Father. "I do not know if that is true. Theodore has always been on his best behavior even when he was Felix's age. First a Prefect, then a Head Boy, always a straight O student..."

"We're different people, Mrs. Black," Theo replied absentmindedly, his gaze riveted on Lucius Malfoy and his wife, Narcissa. "My brother still has some growing up to do. Don't be too harsh on him."

"Well..." she repeated, enjoying the cajolery. 

She was the greatest puppet master of our inner circle. If you wanted to gain the favor of these people, it was her you first needed to convince that you were worthy of respect and attention. Her parties were the most important ones to attend, and if you missed any of them, you missed everything. If she didn't approve of you, you could say goodbye to your reputation. 

“Such disobedience is so out of character for a Nott. Only disgraceful Muggles use their fists to fight their battles. Proper wizards and witches have the rightful access to magic –"

"I did use magic," I interjected in an airy tone. "I first disarmed them, and then used my fists."

Theo let out an exhausted sigh while Father clenched his jaw so tight that I could even hear his teeth grinding.

"That's enough, boy," he muttered, the muscles of his face twitching with frustration. "This isn't what we would like to hear right now. You told me that you've come to your senses. You should act that way, then."

No one would have been able to tell that Father, Theodore and I were a family if it weren't for the last name and the home we shared. They were too short and I too tall; they both had the same easily forgettable roundish features, whereas my face was all too clear-cut. They both sported the same hairstyle, that little hair they both had left brown and frizzy, the exact opposite of my white-blond locks. Even the color of our eyes was different, theirs dark brown and mine ice-blue. Yet, the greatest difference between us remained our disparate personalities. The two of them shared traits I have never even possessed; no one could make me feel more of an alien than they did.

"Father's right. It won't happen again, Mrs. Black." I forced myself to put on a little confiding smile; I had practiced this gullible look until I completely perfected it. I could now feign innocence so well that even a toddler would have been found guilty sooner than me. "Avery, Yaxley, Mulciber and I are the best of friends. We already solved our misunderstandings a long time ago."

"That better be true," she gave in, though her eyes remained wary as she continued to regard me. "I would not want my Regulus to be wrongly influenced. He has got his studies to focus on."

I glanced around in the drawing room, my eyes searching the guests all over, but I didn't find the one person I was looking for.

"Between us, the only reason I am so lenient with you is because my Regulus does not quite like Avery, Yaxley and Mulciber, either," Walburga whispered to me, then let out another one of her fake chuckles. "That is why their families are not here tonight. He pleaded with me not to invite them. I had no choice but to please him. He is such a good son."

"He really must be," Father replied politely, not failing to send me a disgruntled look at the same time. "You and Orion have done a great job raising him. I'm sure many envy you."

At least he was lucky enough to have Theo. I could only guess how disappointed he would have been if I were his only son. He and Walburga must have related to each other on a spiritual level, seeing as they both had some useful and less useful children. Sirius Black was fortunate enough to have escaped this freak show, but I wasn't. I never really fitted in here. I knew that and even they knew that, yet we kept up with the charade, acting as if I could ever be as well-respected as my brother or Father was.

"Regrettably, I have heard a different kind of rumor, too," Walburga continued, her shriveled white face bearing an expression of artificial sorrow. "Audrey Rosier tells me that you might need to repeat your last year at Hogwarts... She heard it from Evan. Apparently, it has got to do with you not sitting your N.E.W.T. examinations..."

I was aware of Father's growing frustration as he struggled to keep his calm. He seethed in silence next to me, gnashing his teeth with irritation. 

Theo remained his usual composed and boring self, only half-paying attention to our conversation. He caught a glass of champagne from a passing tray, and was now sipping his drink, more preoccupied with observing the guests.

"It wasn't just a rumor, Mrs. Black," I replied with a shrug. "I do need to repeat my last year."

"Oh, is that so?" Walburga's eyes, piercing and cruel, stared out from beneath her dark brows knit fiercely above her long, hooked nose. "That is terrible news. What happened? My Regulus tells me that you are a rather good student."

"He's exaggerating," I shrugged again. "There's a saying that Beaters are all very-empty headed. It's a stereotype but it's true. I'm the living proof of that."  

"Excuse his fatuousness. He still has a long way to go before he can follow in Theodore's footsteps," Father put in irritably. He gave me another reproachful glance, one that I already knew too well. He leaned closer to me and tilted his head backwards so he could peer up at me, and hissed, "Why can't you just be more like your brother?"

I noticed that his remark made Theo's head turn, his shoulders slightly jerking back before he continued to study the guests.

Why can't you just be more like your brother? was one of Father's often recurring mottos alongside with real boys never cry, and your mother must be rolling in her grave. The last one was my personal favorite yet.

"I can only hope that you will pay more attention to your studies this year," Walburga tutted and clicked her tongue against her teeth. "You must make your father and brother proud. Look at my Regulus! He is the best student in his year, and not only excels at academics but sports, too. And considering how diligently he tends to his Prefects responsibilities, I am sure he will be made Head Boy this year."

I would have liked to ask her if she actually knew anything about her Regulus. I was certain that he wasn't longing after receiving the Head Boy badge. He barely had any free time for himself, another pile of mandatory tasks was the last thing he needed.

"Make sure to talk to her some more tonight. You need her on your side," Theodore murmured to me as we watched Walburga stroll away, effortlessly assuming proper pure-blood dignity. 

She had just excused herself and ended our laborious exchange so she could go greet the newly-arrived Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass. Their daughter, Isabella wasn't accompanying them; I figured that she was still in France where she was said to have spent the past couple of months. Parkinson's mother told me this last week, though I couldn't care less about anything she had to say, especially if it had to do with Isabella Greengrass. 

In spite of Theo's advice, spending this already abominable evening flattering Walburga Black was not part of my plan. I wandered off on my own, and left him sipping on his champagne and listening to Father's complaints about me.

Soft piano music played in the background; I hated this sound more than anything. I could still vividly recall my daily piano lessons I had been forced to take for years. The light of the chandelier was so blindingly strong that I needed to blink a few times before my blurring vision cleared again. I wasn't wrong when I compared this hellish place to the underworld. No matter where I went, it was stifling hot in the entire house with a distinct smell of sweat lingering.

"Oi, Nott!" Evan Rosier's voice brought me out of my rumination. I looked up, only to find him standing a few feet away from me. "I didn't think I'd run into you here tonight. Mrs. Black was freaking out when she heard what you did to Avery, Yaxley and Mulciber."

"She was? That's odd." I walked up to him, keeping my gaze on his long hanging face. "She seemed to care more about my failed exams instead. Your mother was very kind to clue her in as soon as you told her about it."

He gave me a quick apologetic grin.

"Sorry, but it was given that I would. It's the news of the decade, really." He changed his voice pitch to sound deeper and graver as he announced, "Felix Nott, the Hogwarts dropout."

"I'm not a dropout yet." I wrapped an arm around his shoulders in the friendliest way possible. If anyone were to see us together, they would have thought that we were the best mates in the universe, and I wanted to keep it that way. "I'm going to go back in September and even share the same dorm with you... What do you say? Excited yet?"

"Ew," he laughed and leaned away from me. "It won't just be you repeating a year, though. Travers is coming back, too. Did you know?"

I made nonchalant humming noise.

"He's going to have to completely redo his sixth year. What a hassle. I wonder if he ever finishes school," Rosier continued. "Parkinson went to visit him this afternoon. Apparently, Travers keeps saying that you were the one to push him off his broom."

"What a shame. Four months in the hospital and poor bloke is still ever so confused..." I let out a pitying sigh. "No wonder at all. He did strike his head on the fall, after all."

"You two were the only ones on the Quidditch field that day, though," he pointed out, and for half a second, I kept quiet, inventing what to say. "Travers used to be one of the best players on our team. It's weird that he suddenly no longer knew how to keep himself up on his broom and fell down."

"Are you implying that it's my fault that he was too slow to dodge the Bludger?" In reality, there had been no Bludger in the first place, and Travers had stood no chance at dodging anything, least of all getting hit by my Beater's bat from behind. "If anything, he should be thanking me for saving his life. He could have broken his neck had I not slowed down his fall."

"Suure..." Rosier's lip curled in a sneer. "So this wasn't your personal little revenge because he and Yaxley fed you baneberry potion three years ago, right?"

"My personal little revenge would have included pushing them out of the Astronomy Tower and covering my tracks afterwards," I told him easily and put my arm around his shoulders once again, a gesture to take the sting out of my words. "Since that never happened, I think we can both agree that I already forgave them a long time ago. I'm not one to hold grudges for years."

I was getting tired of discussing Travers' accident, and decided it was best to change the subject. I tugged Rosier closer and beckoned him to follow me up the staircase.

"Fancy a smoke?"

He cheered up immediately. "You know it!"

"Cough up, then." I held out my hand before him.

"What?" His previous bright expression quickly altered and was now rather unhappy. "But you just asked me –"

"I asked you if you wanted to lend me a fag," I said as we climbed the steps up to the first floor, heading to the balcony. This house, being so tightly compressed between plenty other Muggle homes, had no garden. It only had the smallest and most embellished false balconies, one extending to each upstairs room. "You already said yes. You can't possibly reject me now."

"Phew... You're always leeching off others," Rosier groaned, but didn't make any objections when I reached into the pocket of his vest and fished out an unopened pack of cigarettes. "Is your father not giving you enough allowance or something?"

"The best things in life are free." My answer coaxed another snicker out of him and he gave me a quick flashing grin. I knew gits worse than him; he was somewhat tolerable as long as he didn't talk about the Dark Lord or his distaste for Muggles and Muggle-borns. "Shall we go in here?"

"Aye, you lead the way. You know your way around here much better than any of us do," he nodded as I opened the door to another, much smaller sitting room than the one downstairs. Like all the other rooms, it was dark and crowded with overstuffed furniture, the stained glass windows not letting in much light. "You're lucky Black's been backing you up on your recent conflict with Avery, Yaxley and Mulciber, otherwise his mother would have already shunned you."

"I'm very, very lucky indeed." My words came out as inarticulate as I placed a cigarette between my lips and used a spell to light it.

"It's weird, though. He only had bad things to say about you last month... he really seemed to hate you."

Rosier inhaled the smoke and blew it out in a long pale cloud. He leaned on the railing and looked down at the shadowy and silent Muggle neighborhood spread out below us. With my elbows on the balustrade, I looked and listened as well. The only source of light came from the ghastly street-lamps, and the only noise remained the distant piano music and the sound of fake laughter.

"I thought that was going to be the end of you. If you get on the wrong side of a Black or a Malfoy, it's really just over, isn't it?"

I drew deeply on the cigarette, then breathed out with ease and in a puff of dramatic indignation.

"A wonderful friendship like ours could never end so abruptly," I objected. "We only had an innocent misunderstanding, but we managed to solve it."

"You've got plenty of those misunderstandings, it seems," Rosier noted, a lopsided grin twisting his lips. "Still, things are looking pretty bad for you. My mother says you only have one last chance left before you get kicked out. You don't want to end up like Black's brother, do you?"

I repressed a wishful sigh. It would have been only too nice if I did end up like Sirius, and every time I thought about my missed opportunity to get away, an all too familiar sense of disappointment washed over me.

"You should be careful," Rosier went on in a lecturing tone. "You're walking a fine line, nannying that Mudblood and beating up your own pure-blooded friends for her sake..."

"Which Mudblood?"

"The one you protected multiple times. Avery and Mulciber say you've got a thing for that cow."

I took a final drag of my eroded cigarette, then pitched it over the balcony rail, dropping it down on the street. I took another one without asking Rosier if I was allowed, and lit it. The stinking of smoke began to tickle my nose, and soon enough the air became so suffocating I thought I was going to choke before I could finish my last drag. I knew it was just my conscience stifling me; I could easily imagine how reproachful Jiao would have looked if she heard me use this slur despite my promise that I would never say it again.

I had never expected to befriend a Muggle-born. I most certainly wouldn't have if only she hadn't been made Prefect at the same time Regulus had been appointed as one. The two of them spending so much time together was enough for me to try to get to know her, just so I would understand why he got along with her so well. It wasn't so surprising that he did. She was possibly the most accepting and compassionate person I have ever met. 

Nowadays I would think of her as my friend rather than Regulus'. Even though she had accepted my apology, she may have still been wary of my intentions. Not that I could ever blame her for mistrusting me. I repetitively used to call her a Mudblood, and now I was doing it behind her back. It didn't matter that I didn't share my family's views, or that I only pretended to agree with the Dark Lord's policies to increase my chances of survival in this hell. What mattered was that I had broken my word. 

"Even you're better than that," Rosier pressed, his gaze searching mine. I summoned up my most compelling smile, and pushed the thought of a sad Jiao away. "What can you do with a Mudblood that you can't get from a proper pure-blood, or even from a half-breed?"

"Many things," I said to him shortly. "They are rather amusing, Mudbloods are."

"Just be careful," he repeated, shaking his head at me. "No girl is worth getting disowned for, no matter how fit she may be."

I didn't have the chance to pick another, more pleasant topic to talk about. The door opened and there came a new voice and the sound of muffled footsteps.

"Did you listen to the game yesterday?" Archibald Parkinson asked in his dry reedy voice that seemed to me impossible to mimic or to properly describe. He mostly sounded like a squeaking rabbit about to get strangled.

"Only to the first half. Mother had guests coming over in the evening, and she needed me to be there."

My stomach suddenly writhed and twisted like a heap of small serpents. A sense of unease filled my gut, but it wasn't the type of apprehension that would urge me to bite my nails and pick at my skin until it began to bleed. It was the kind of nervousness that sent a strange tremor go through all my limbs, and caused my hands to start shaking so much that I even dropped the cigarette butt while I was about to stab it out on the railing.

"It wasn't such an interesting match, anyway. Fiji lost against India, as expected..." Rosier quipped. 

Unlike him, I didn't bother greeting the two fresh arrivals. I kept my gaze straight ahead, watching the street once more.

The balcony was already too small to accommodate two people, let alone four. Rosier moved closer to me so Parkinson could stand beside him. I felt someone place a gentle hand between my shoulder blades, a friendly gesture to greet me. 

It was the briefest, most careful touch, yet it managed to leave a burning spot on my skin even through the layer of my shirt. Without a warning, there came another swarm of ruthless butterflies, trashing my stomach and eating away my intestines. 

Turning my head to the right, I found myself facing Regulus. The four of us stood huddled together like sparrows on a branch. It was such a tight space that we were all pressed up against each other, with Rosier's elbow giving me a stich in the side and Regulus' shoulder rubbing up against mine.

I snatched another cigarette from Rosier, lit it and began to smoke it, hoping it was going to distract me enough to calm my nerves.

"Bulstrode's father managed to buy tickets for the finals before they all got snatched up," Parkinson claimed, his wheezy voice resentful. "They are going to Syria next month."

"Lucky bastard!" Rosier smacked his lips. "I wish he’d invited me to go with him, but he's taking Burke of all people... Bloody rat."

"He's just trying to be in Burke's good books so he could get into his sister's undies," Parkinson reckoned.

"I could have gone, too," I chimed in, puffing rapidly what would be the last fag of the evening. "Theo knows someone working at the Quidditch League Headquarters. The last time he went to the Ministry to have lunch with Minchum, he was offered three tickets. We would have had access to a Portkey and gotten free accommodation all right, but he refused it."

"Whyever would someone do that?" Parkinson cried out, his tone desperate as if he was the one to miss out on such rare one-time-only-deal, not me.

I shrugged. "He said nobody liked Quidditch in the family so receiving those tickets would have been useless to him."

"But you like Quidditch!" Rosier pointed out.

"I must be nobody, too," I shrugged again.

I recalled the utter disappointment I had felt upon hearing Theo recount this story to his wife the other day. I couldn't be sure if he really didn't know that I did in fact care about Quidditch and wanted to attend the World Cup. Maybe he wasn't even aware that I have been on the Slytherin team since my second year. He often chose to tune out during conversations he didn't find interesting enough. Perhaps everything that had to do with me counted as unworthy to pay attention to.

"We can always just to listen to the finals on the radio, right?" Parkinson said dispiritedly, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than us. "I hope England wins in the end. We've got good chances so far. Their Beaters are especially brilliant."

"Cowbell could easily be the next Lucas Bargeworthy," I agreed, stomping my cigarette butt. "In fact, he's even more talented than Bargeworthy was.”

"Speaking of Lucas Bargeworthy," Regulus joined in the conversation after listening to our exchange in silence the whole time, "I got his biography that you mentioned the other day. I figured I'd ask you if you wanted me to lend it to you."

I now regretted smoking all those cigarettes because my lips felt dry and chapped, the dusty taste of thirst in my mouth insufferable. As I glanced back at Regulus to give him an affirmative nod, I rested my eyes upon him for a moment. Unlike his mother's, his features were fine, nose retroussé, chin delicate. His memorable face, from the often sharply raised dark eyebrows to the high brows and chiseled jawline, marked it distinctively.

"Quidditch is to be played, not to be read about," I heard Parkinson complain as I moved away from the railing and towards the balcony door. 

By the time I crossed the sitting room and walked out into the hallway, I was terribly out of breath. My heart pounded, chest heaving in great shaky gasps. Had I still had any sense of shame left, I would have been thoroughly embarrassed by my own struggle to breathe evenly.

"I had no idea that you'd be here tonight. Mother wasn't sure she wanted to invite you, too," Regulus said without looking my direction as he led me down the hall. 

"I would have come even if she didn't want me to.” I made an airy gesture. "Father reckoned I needed to show up and earn her forgiveness. This was my final destination. I'd already come clean with everyone else."

"And? Did you manage to earn it?"

I only saw the back of him, his posture straight and stiff. I didn't hurry to catch up with him, and walked several paces behind him, with my hands folded behind my back. As we passed by a full-length mirror, I caught sight first of Regulus', then my own reflection. My gaze roved over my body, tall and sturdy, before it shifted back to his lean and lithe figure.

"You tell me," I answered after some delay, forcing myself to focus. "She's your mother, not mine."

He threw a quick look back over his shoulder at me. "Seeing as you're still here, she's probably already forgiven you."

"That's a relief." I stopped short and waited for him to open the door. "I better stay on her good side, then."

"It's not that easy to keep her trust," he said, a faint warning note in his voice. "You should pay more attention to how you behave around her."

He gestured for me to step inside, and I walked through the door, only coming to a halt in the middle of his room. 

While Regulus was busy locking the door using several Protective Charms, my eyes took in the disgusting olive green wallpaper, the Gothic arch bed in the corner, the long wall of books opposite the wooden desk and the wide wardrobe on the other side. Nothing seemed to have changed since the last time I have been here, which must have been around last Christmas. 

"All done?" I wondered as I caught Regulus lowering his hand in my periphery. He nodded and put his wand down on the commode on his right.

"All done," he confirmed a little breathlessly.

The muscles in my stomach began to stretch, a familiar heat washing over me as my body came alive with a rush of thrill and excitement. We moved towards each other at the same time; the moment Regulus bounced towards me from the door, I lurched forward as well.

His deep grey eyes, sometimes distant and troubled, were now glowing with intensity and overwhelming longing. I tried not to crush his bones as I held him tight, his physique frail compared to mine. Pressed up against him, I felt every inch of his trembling body as he yielded to me, his hands that held my shoulders closing warmly over my neck.

"You said you would owl me." He tried to speak in a reproachful tone but his attempt quickly failed. His voice died away in a contented sigh when I began planting a small series of tantalizing kisses along his jawline and down his neck.

Quickly, I undid his cravat – the ugliest piece of cloth I had ever seen, something his mother must have picked out for him – and I tossed it aside. My skillful hands unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt and slid under the fabric, my fingers brushing against the smoothness of his shoulders. I felt his body slouch against mine, his muscles tensing and relaxing by turns, as my lips trailed down his sharp collarbone. His proximity filled my nostrils with the sweetest fragrance, his scent of rain and wood and something indescribably delicate. 

"Why didn't you?" he demanded. 

"I didn't know what to write."

I slightly leaned back to look at him. A small frown appeared between his eyebrows; for once, there was no sternness about his expression, only dissatisfaction that I had drawn back from him. I felt his chest rapidly heave against mine, his heartbeat matching a hummingbird's.

"The things I wanted to tell you were rather confidential, and your mother has the tendency to open your letters."

"That's true," he admitted reluctantly, combing his fingers through my hair and giving it a little tug. I was glad to accommodate him, and I resumed kissing him. I felt his Adam's apple hastily jump up and down as I pressed hot kisses along his throat, another series of feeble sighs bursting from him. "I still wanted you to write to me."

"Missed me?" I found it tacky how eager I sounded, but it was already too late to get rid of the hopeful tone in my voice.

"Very much," he mumbled in agreement and he clutched me closer.

"At least someone did. Father and Theo couldn't care less when I went home last week."

I felt his body go tense in my arms, and this time he was the one to pull away. 

"Are you all right?" Regulus fixed his inspecting eyes upon me, reading my features. 

The pace of his hands roaming over me slowed down, his previous passion turning into affectionate concern. I could feel it in the way his embrace gentled and he began rubbing soothing circles on my back that he felt sorry for me. 

I put on my usual carefree demeanor, hoping it was convincing enough. Why the truth kept occasionally slipping out before I could stop myself was beyond me.

People with many true friends and loving family members have always annoyed me, their happiness something I wished I could crush so they would feel similarly miserable as I did on a daily basis. I tried not to cave in when these dark wishes resurfaced within me from time to time. In spite of my efforts to suppress this jealousy and this pain, sometimes the words tumbled out of me quite unexpectedly. It made me seem as if I was begging for attention and empathy, as if my own self-pity wasn't enough.

And perhaps I was doing just that, relishing in that rare warmth I felt on those occasions somebody finally listened to me. For the longest time, Regulus used to be the only person that would do this for me, and now I also had Jiao to sympathize with me even if I didn't deserve it.

"Sure,” I answered. “It's nothing I haven't had the time to get used to yet. How are you?"

"Good, " he said curtly, then added, "now that you're here."

I didn't quite understand why anyone, especially Regulus Black would want me to be around, but I was going to savor every moment of the time spent together. 

"How much time do we have?" I inquired, knowing I wasn't going to like the answer. 

"A few more minutes. I can't stay away for too long." He looked at the clock over the desk. "Mother must have already realized that I'm missing. She wants me to be around and talk to the guests. She says it's my party too, and I'm as much of a host as she is."

The prospect of Walburga going on a quest of her own to find him and drag him back to the salon was all too nasty. Not wanting to waste any more time, I began showering him with kisses with a renewed passion.

"Is running away still not an option?" I ventured hopefully, although I already knew what he was going to say.

"It is for you." 

My head moved firmly in a negative motion. "I would only leave if you left too." 

Regulus made a small wincing grimace. "Well, I can't. Not anymore.” 

His gaze flickered down to his left forearm on which he already bore the Dark Lord's mark.

I could still remember the frustration and regret I had felt when I first saw that repulsive tattoo; and now I was eventually going to bear the exact same one. 

I used to try run away from this path all my life; I never wanted to follow Father and Theodore down this road, towards what seemed to be a life full of anguish, misery and death. Yet, as soon as I found out about Regulus being a Death Eater, my goals had irreversibly altered. 

"Even if I did manage to run away, I wouldn't be able to survive," Regulus' voice broke in on my reverie. "I need to finish Hogwarts first to get a job and make some money."

"Or you could just steal from your family and I would steal from mine," I bent over him murmuring. I kissed the most sensitive spot below his ear, the touch of my lips sending shivers through him. "And then we'd run off into the sunset."

He let out a sarcastic snort. "That would be very stupid. They would find us in a day."

"You don't read enough romance novels, Reggie," I chided. "The main heroes always get their happy endings in the end."

He uttered another snort, an even more sardonic one. "You're just like Jiao with her fairytales."

For a few moments, only the sound of our harsh and mingled breaths could be heard, but these moments always ended even before they could truly begin. It was hard to stop kissing him, and what made it even harder was not knowing when I would get to be with him like this again. It seemed to me that the most I would ever get to do was stealing furtive glances at him from afar – first without his knowledge for three years, and now just as secretly in order to avoid a scandal.

"We have to stop now," Regulus broke the silence after a while. I pretended not to have heard him, and I continued lavishing the gentlest caresses and most convincing kisses upon him. "It's already been twenty minutes. My mother will come looking for me if I don't go back soon."

I let out a displeased moan as he turned his head away, my lips only brushing the corner of his mouth. 

I couldn't help but imagine the anguish of all physical torment Walburga would have had to endure if only it were up to me. She deserved to burn in her own personal purgatory, except in her case it wouldn't have been just a temporary punishment. It would have lasted endlessly; her hideous, rotten soul could never be cleansed of her sins, anyway.

"Here." I kept one arm wrapped around Regulus to keep him from drawing away from me, and I fumbled in the pocket of my trousers. I pulled out a piece of parchment and put it in his hand. "When do you have some time off? I want to spend more than twenty minutes with you."

"Anglesey?" he asked with a frown, his eyes skimming over the address I had previously scribbled down. "What's there?"

"My mother's summer residence. It’s down by the beach. Father built it just for her after they got married, but it's been abandoned for almost two decades. Father and Theo haven't been there since she died.” I uttered the most cheerful and overexaggarated sigh I could possibly summon up, and I went on, "It must be because of all the sad associations."

His frown deepened as he quietly studied my face, and I stared back at him, keeping my features bright and composed.

"Are you sure this is safe?" he questioned, shoving the scrap of parchment into his own pocket.

"I wouldn't be inviting you if I wasn't sure. No one ever goes there anymore."

"I don't know..." he muttered, his expression dubious. "What about everyone else? Holyhead is supposed to be closely located. What if we run into someone?"

"We don't even know anyone that lives in Holyhead," I pointed out. "Besides, it's private property. No one's going to walk in on us."  

He stayed in thought, chewing his lower lip in utter vacillation. 

"You pick a place, then," I gave in after a few minutes of silence. "Just do it quickly. I really miss you, Reggie."

My words made his mouth quirk a little and he finally looked up at me, a slight pink blush passing over his features. It looked quite endearing, though not as much as if he were to flush scarlet. Sometimes I would make teasing remarks that I knew would get him flustered. I liked to taunt him just to see him get amped up and turn all red; I have always found his resentful expression particularly entertaining.

"Well, I do like the sea..." he said slowly. "I suppose we could go there if you really are certain that we wouldn't get into trouble."

"We wouldn't."

In spite of my words, I couldn't be absolutely sure that no one would ever visit my mother's holiday house. Accidents and unpleasant surprises could always occur. Yet, I didn't really spend much time pondering over the unfortunate what-ifs. Considering how my family has refrained from going back to Wales all this time, it was only logical to assume that they would keep up with this fine habit of theirs.  

"Even if we would," I added, "I could just knock them out and you would Obliviate them so they wouldn't remember anything."

"I'm sure I wouldn't need to Obliviate anyone after you threw a few punches," Regulus muttered under his breath, his gaze riveted on my biceps. "They would probably suffer a severe concussion and forget everything on their own."

I let out a snort of air. "That's very true as well."

"I'm free on Friday. I'll see you there?" he suggested as he began buttoning his shirt. He got it all wrong, and needed to start again and rebutton everything. His hands were usually very steady and nimble – a must for a Seeker –, yet now his fingers were slightly trembling.

Entertained, I observed his growing restlessness. I understood his frustration only all too well, though I had the advantage of practicing self-control while I used to secretly pine after him for years. I watched him try to tie his cravat for about five minutes, not succeeding very well at the task.

"Sweet Salazar. You're shaking all over. What stirred you up so much?" I remarked in tones of mock compassion. He gave me a withering stare, but he didn't stop me when I reached out and took his cravat from him. "It's best if I do it for you, otherwise you'll be stuck here with me all night."

"I wish..." he mumbled indignantly. 

I gave a little chortle at his miffed response and placed the cloth around his collar, creating loop after loop, pulling loose ends through and tying them neatly. Though I only focused on knotting the tie properly, I was also aware of Regulus' examining gaze fixed upon me. 

"How do you even know how to do it?"

"Just because I never wear ties doesn't mean I never learned how to make a decent barrel knot.”

"My mother thinks that you should pay more attention to your looks," he noted. "She says you've become very inelegant."

Perhaps Walburga was right. Unlike our acquaintances, I would never wear such outdated outfits that were last popular centuries ago. Still, her choice of words made it seem as if I were as shabby as Remus Lupin was.

"Your mother says very many things even though she's got the intelligence of a brick wall," I countered in a blithe tone. "It would do her good if she kept quiet every once in a while."

I added the finishing touches, then took a quarter step back to observe the result. I cupped Regulus' face with my hands; he tilted his head a little and kissed my palm. It was the most innocent peck, yet it managed to give me a squirming feeling in the chest and cause a blazing fire to slide through my body.

All the other people I had ever dated in the past would only make me feel desire for a few short occasions, then suddenly nothing at all once I lost that little interest I had in them. With Regulus, I had gooey butterflies in my stomach and my knees went weak every time I was around him. I wanted to keep this feeling from fading away and preserve it forever. By the looks of the past three years, I was doing a rather good job because my feelings would only grow stronger each day. 

"Where's that book you told me about?" I removed my hands from his face, and didn't fail to register the quick disappointed expression that flickered across his features.

"I don't have it yet," Regulus answered as he moved towards the bookcase. "I pre-ordered it, but it only gets delivered at the end of the week."

"Way to get a poor boy's hopes up," I sighed. "So you just wanted to lure me in here?"

There was a hint of a smile and a roll of his eyes at my comment. He handed me another – seemingly very boring – book (How to Be a Critical Thinker; On the Pursuit of Logic) and he nodded towards the door, hustling me out of his room.

While he was removing the door locking charms, I began contemplating whether I should steal one last kiss from him before leaving his room. 

Before I could go ahead with my plan, I heard sharp and quick footsteps outside in the hallway. A second later, the door was ripped open at the same time Regulus cast the last spell.

"Here you are!" Walburga stood on the threshold, her ravaged face wearing its fakest smile. "I meant to introduce you to your father's acquaintances from the Ministry, but suddenly I could not find you. I have been looking for you everywhere."

Regulus cleared his throat nervously. "I loaned a book to Felix, but I was already on my way back." 

I noticed a few drops of sweat on his temples, the previous blush across his cheekbones rapidly leaving his face, rendering his skin pale again.

Walburga's gaze shifted to me and lingered on the book in my hand.

"Oh, Felix, you read?" she asked in tones of positive surprise. Guessing from her astonishment, she must have thought that I have been illiterate all my life.

"Yes," I nodded. "I just learned. I can now write, too."

She blinked at me, her brows furrowing as she looked alternately at me and Regulus.

"Is this supposed to be some sort of a joke?" she inquired, no longer smiling.

"Not at all. It's unlike me to make any jokes. I'm generally a very serious chap." 

I found her baffled expression amusing, and I bit my lower lip in order to prevent a grin. 

I was at it yet again, going out of my way to bug someone else, in spite of Regulus and my family's constant advice not to do so. I couldn't seem to stop myself from pushing other people's buttons; truth to be told, I wasn't trying very hard either. 

"Sometimes I really cannot understand you, Felix. You used to be such a good boy," Walburga spoke in a sanctimonious manner, and I wondered if she truly believed that she could fool people with her honeyed words. "You should find that person within yourself again. I know your father would be happy if he saw that you were making an effort to please him."

"Thank you for your words of wisdom, Mrs. Black," I replied with feigned solemnity. "I'll make pleasing my family my main priority from now on, then."

"Let's go back, Mother. You said you wanted to introduce me to your guests." Regulus cleared his throat again to get her attention, then quietly told me, "You should go too. I think Bulstrode wanted to talk to you."

Reluctantly, I went my way as they went theirs. I kept looking back over my shoulder, my gaze following his figure until he disappeared out of sight. How I was going to survive until the end of the week, I didn't know; I was already missing him too much. I couldn't wait until Friday so I could finally have him all to myself without getting disturbed by his nosy mother or the dozens of guests he needed to entertain. 

Once I was down in the salon again, I surveyed the crowd of people. In one corner of the room, I noticed Cygnus and Druella Black conversing with their oldest daughter and her husband. In another corner, I saw Rosier, Bulstrode and Parkinson now with their respective families, all huddled together. The Carrows, Burkes and Lestranges were present, too, chatting with one another in their flat tones. 

"Where have you been?" Theodore's voice pulled me out of my thoughts and into the present. 

"Upstairs," I replied, my tone indifferent as I reached for a glass of champagne. "Had a smoke with the blokes... and got a book from Reggie."

He glowered at me for a few moments, motionless and cold as a statue.

"You should be talking to your elders instead of smoking with your friends," he said stiffly. "Father's brought you here tonight to convince everyone – most importantly Walburga Black – that you can still be trusted. It's of utmost importance that you're on your best behavior from now on."

"Your brother is right."

Lucius Malfoy popped up out of nowhere, and was now standing on my other side. He looked and sounded sour at all times as if he constantly had to smell something disgusting. Guessing from his never changing half-revolted half-stiff face, he must have been forced to eat a pile of muck for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. He and Narcissa made a great couple; she looked and behaved the exact same way.

"Does he know?" he gazed at Theodore, raising a quizzical eyebrow at him.

"No... not yet. I haven't had the time..." Theo muttered, his reluctance showing in the way he pursed his lips and his forehead creased at some unwanted thought. "I was going to tell him later tonight..."

I asked with a new foreboding, "What don't I know?"

Sensing Theodore's unwillingness to carry on with the topic, Malfoy took it upon himself to fill me in on the details.

"You're in luck," he said solemnly. "The Dark Lord has agreed to meet you. He's currently busy with work and his personal activities, but he's willing to receive you next week when he's back from his trip."

The euphoria I had felt after spending those few stealthy moments with Regulus was instantly gone. My stomach lurched uncomfortably, but I kept my smile on my face before it could turn into a grimace.

"This is a great honor for both you and your family," Malfoy pressed on, ignoring the uneasy glances my brother kept shooting him. "With any luck, your first meeting will ultimately lead to your Initiation Ceremony as well."

I was now exceptionally happy that I had refused Kreacher’s appetizers earlier this evening. There came a sudden urge to retch, and the only reason I managed to calm myself was my unwavering will-power. I couldn't even blame Malfoy, my family or Lord Voldemort for pressing me into this situation; I only had myself to blame for not leaving while I had the chance to do so.

"You must spend more time teaching your brother proper manners," Malfoy turned to Theodore, a small disdainful smile playing on his pale lips. He was a few years younger, yet he treated him with contempt. Rosier was right; the Blacks and Malfoys have always been on the top of the food chain and could always get away with everything. "He mustn't bring disgrace upon clean and proper pure-blood families. We don't give any second chances... nor does the Dark Lord."

He fixed his unfriendly eyes on me and gave another scornful smirk.

"You need to pick your companionship more carefully from now on," he told me before he left to go back to Narcissa. "You shan't dishonor your family's name anymore. It has already suffered enough damage."

I knew Theodore would never go against the Malfoys, just as he was too much of a good son to ever go against Father's wishes. Nonetheless, his expression betrayed profound dislike as he watched Malfoy walk away.

"You might not listen to Father and me, but you have to at least listen to him," he muttered, his words barely audible. "No more rulebreaking if you value your, Father's and my life."

The tension was suddenly too much to handle, and I felt my whole body clench up. Instinctively, I began to chew my thumb without paying much attention to my actions.