#rbatds

The day Sirius had run away and abandoned him, more than a year ago, was the last day the pair had spoken properly. Their parents had been throwing a fit after having found the boys listening to some Muggle rock music in Sirius’s room. Regulus remembered the day well. It was one of those lazy days when he and Sirius had simply enjoyed being in each other’s company. When they acted like normal brothers from a normal family, setting aside any animosity or jealousy their parents tried to create between them. It was the type of day that Regulus had cherished.

Then, in an instant, his life was forever altered. His mother burst into the room, screaming, having been home early from tea. She had called Sirius an abomination, had said he was corrupting Regulus and would bring their family to ruin. She smacked his brother across the face so hard that he had tumbled onto the bedroom floor. Regulus was frozen in horror. By the time he regained his senses, Sirius was screaming back, throwing his clothes into his school trunk. Minutes later, he was gone, leaving Regulus behind.

---

“Regulus, I am so glad you came.” Narcissa embraced him, snapping him out of the painful memories. Regulus genuinely smiled for the first time that night. Of all of his extended family members, he liked Narcissa the most.

“Congratulations, Cissy. I hope you’re happy,” Regulus said. He noticed a shadow pass over her face for an instant, but it was gone before he could even be sure it had been there. Her beaming smile was back.

“It’s a great day for the family. And Lucius is…a good man,” she said. “Here, come on, let me introduce you properly. Lucius, darling,” Narcissa called, grabbing onto Regulus’s arm and guiding him through the droves of wedding guests. A tall, blonde-haired man turned around to face her. He smiled brightly as she approached. It was clear he thought the world of her. Regulus was glad, hoping that meant he’d treat his cousin right.

“Dear, this is my youngest cousin, Regulus.” Narcissa introduced the two men.

Lucius stuck out a hand in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Regulus. Your mother and father have told me you’re still in school? Slytherin, I presume?”

“Yes, Slytherin. I’m in my 6th year,” Regulus replied.

“Wonderful, wonderful,” Lucius drawled. “Well, Narcissa raves about you. Says you’re her favorite cousin. And, from what I hear, we may be working together very soon, so I’m glad to hear you’ve gotten stellar reviews.” He winked and chuckled heartily. Before Regulus could process what Malfoy had said, Lucius and Narcissa were being swept away by more wedding guests. Narcissa glanced behind her, throwing an apologetic look in Regulus’s direction as she hung off of Lucius’s arm. “Talk to you later,” she mouthed before she was swallowed up by the crowd.

“Look, darling!” Regulus was startled by a shrill voice squealing with glee, “it’s little baby Reggie!” Regulus’s oldest cousin Bellatrix dragged her husband towards him. “Well, don’t be daft, Rodolphus, say hello!” she scolded the large man beside her, slapping his arm playfully.

“Hello, Regulus,” Rodolphus said monotonously. Regulus—who had been quite certain that his cousin’s husband was only capable of speaking in one-syllable words—was surprised at the man’s talkativeness. Perhaps it was the joy of the occasion that made Rodolphus so positively chatty.

“Lovely to see you again, Rodolphus,” Regulus responded, boredly. He hoped his lack of interest in conversation would send Bellatrix on her way. Unfortunately, his coldness did not seem to deter her.

“Reggie, I’ve been talking with Goyle—you know Goyle, graduated last year—and he’s been saying that you’re quite the capable student!” Bellatrix praised him, smiling widely. Her deep brown eyes, which had always unnerved Regulus, looked like they were about to pop out of her head.

“I work hard,” Regulus said.

“Well, he also told me you hang around with some of his crew—Mulciber, Avery, Snape—but, you don’t seem to express as much interest in their…extracurricular activities as of late.” Bellatrix pouted her lips and looked disappointed. “And, I was shocked to hear about this! I mean, you want to make your Mummy and Daddy proud, don’t you? You want to be extraordinary? I know you don’t want to end up on the same path as your…old brother…oh what was his name?” she asked, pretending she had forgotten, “Sirius?”

Regulus glared.

---

In the days that had followed Sirius’s flight, Regulus had been distraught, fearing for his brother’s life. He searched his brother’s room for clues about where he had gone, sending countless owls to discover his whereabouts. He barely spoke to his parents—he lived in fear of another outburst if he mentioned his disgraced older sibling. His mother had looked manic, and frankly, more terrifying than ever (which was saying a lot) when she had burned Sirius off of the family tree.

About a month into that summer, he received word from a friend of a friend that his brother was living with the Potters. However, instead of feeling glad that his brother was safe, Regulus was overcome with resentment. His older brother was supposed to be his protector. Instead, Sirius had abandoned Regulus, finding himself a new brother in James Potter. He had left Regulus to deal with their parents, with their family pressures and expectations, and hadn’t even bothered to write! To apologize! To offer to take him along. Sirius had tossed Regulus aside, first chance.

Without his brother, Regulus had no escape from the constant barrage of Pureblood ideologies with which his family aligned. Sirius’s presence had been a beacon of hope for Regulus. Sirius was braver than Regulus felt he could ever be. When Regulus was afraid to speak his mind, Sirius was there to back him up. More than that, he was Regulus’s guardian when their parents screamed and shouted. He was the champion who had defended him from bullies. He was his best friend.

---

Bellatrix clicked her tongue in disappointment and shook her head. Regulus felt his parents approach him from behind. His mother’s hand rested upon his shoulder, possessively. “Bella, dear, you look marvelous, as always.” his mother doted on her niece. “Have you spoken to Regulus about the opportunity, yet?” she questioned the younger witch. Regulus curiously stared at his parents. Orion nodded his head, signaling for Bellatrix to speak.

“Not yet, Auntie Walburga,” she said sweetly, “But, I was just about to! Regulus, all of what I have been saying has had its purpose. I wanted to give you the good news, myself. The Dark Lord has heard of your potential—Rodolphus and I may have put in a good word—”

Regulus stifled the urge to crack a joke at his cousin-in-law’s expense. He hardly believed that Rodolphus was able to produce a “good word,” let alone say one to the Dark Lord on Regulus’s behalf.

“—and He wants to initiate you. Properly,” Bellatrix finished with a beaming smile. His parents grinned behind him. His mother choked back a joyful sob.

“I-I-What?” Regulus stammered. “I-what does the Dark Lord want with me? I’m not even of age yet!” Regulus had figured his family would encourage him to join the Dark Lord sooner or later. They had been priming him for Pureblood perfection ever since he could walk. But he hadn’t expected this offer to come so soon. And to be so definitive. He desperately wished that his brother was here. Sirius would have been able to call his family out, to say that Regulus could make his own decisions. However, Regulus now began to realize his reality; the people surrounding him were the only family he had. They welcomed him. They respected him. They made him feel wanted—something that Regulus had desperately craved ever since Sirius’s departure. This sense of devotion, of belonging, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. There was no sense in rebelling, as his brother had. He was the good son. The one his parents could parade in front of the rest of the world. Even as Bellatrix made her offer, Regulus could sense his parents’ pride. And their pressure. There was really no decision to be made. At least, no decision for Regulus to make.

The elf turned his head towards Regulus, and peaked an eye out from behind his hands, which were covering his face. “D-d-dead. Army of the dead. Didn’t know Kreacher could escape. Didn’t know Master Regulus had asked Kreacher to come back.” The elf stuttered. Regulus felt cold and empty. He had been so happy to have survived his encounter with Voldemort that he hadn’t even stopped to think about Kreacher’s safety. What an idiot! How could Regulus think for a second that his loyal elf would be safe with that monster? No one was safe! Not with Him.

Carefully, Regulus gathered Kreacher in his arms and brought him to his bedroom. He laid the quivering elf on his bed, and covered him in blankets. Regulus poured Kreacher a glass of water from the jug on the windowsill. Kreacher gulped it down greedily. Regulus poured him some more. “R-Regulus is too kind to Kreacher.”

“Nonsense,” Regulus said, “I am so, so sorry I let you go with him, Kreacher. I-I didn’t know He would hurt you.” Regulus’s excuse sounded feeble, but Kreacher seemed to appreciate the words.

“No. Kreacher wanted to help. Kreacher wanted to make sure the Dark Lord was pleased with Regulus. Regulus was worried. Regulus is in danger. Kreacher heard Narcissa say. Kreacher doesn’t want Regulus to get hurt.”

Regulus was surprised at the elf’s astute assessment of his current predicament. He hadn’t even noticed that Kreacher had been in the room during him and Cissa’s conversation. That made him feel worse. “Kreacher…can you…can you tell me what happened?”

Kreacher’s golf-ball eyes filled with tears. “Kreacher went with the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord took Kreacher to a cave.”

“A cave?”

“Yes. A cave. An underwater cave. Kreacher and the Dark Lord had to swim to find it.”

“And what was in the cave, Kreacher?” Regulus’s mind was racing. Why had Voldemort need his elf to take a trip to a cave in the middle of the ocean?

“Kreacher and the Dark Lord entered a cavern. Kreacher had to cut his hand to open it.” The elf held up his right hand, which, sure enough, had a long gash running across the palm.

“Here, let me fix that.” Regulus carefully took the elf’s tiny hand in his own and began waving his wand and muttering healing incantations. The cut stitched itself back together before their eyes.

“Kreacher thanks you, Regulus. You are the kindest of all of his masters,” said the elf.

“What happened next, Kreacher?”

“The cavern wall fell away, and Kreacher and the Dark Lord entered a larger cavern, with a lake.”

“A lake? In a cavern? In an underwater cave that you have to cut yourself to enter?” Regulus questioned. None of the elf’s tale was making any sense.

Kreacher nodded. “Yes. And then the Dark Lord conjured a boat, and rowed him and Kreacher across the lake, to a tiny island. There was a basin on the island, filled with black liquid. The Dark Lord order Kreacher to drink.” The elf began shaking again. Regulus was furious—at Voldemort for hurting his elf, and at himself, for once again being a coward and doing nothing to stop the pain and misery that Voldemort had caused. Regulus placed a comforting hand on Kreacher’s shoulder. “What was in the basin, Kreacher?”

Kreacher took a shaky breath. “Kreacher does not know. But, it made Kreacher see and feel terrible things. Terrible. Kreacher was afraid. But the Dark Lord ordered him to drink until the basin was empty, so Kreacher continued.  And then, when Kreacher was finished, the Dark Lord laughed and placed a locket at the bottom of the basin, and then filled it back up and rowed away.”

“He left you there?”

“He rowed away and Kreacher was so thirsty and there was no water. Kreacher tried to drink from the lake, but…but they pulled him in.” He locked eyes with Regulus. “They-they pulled Kreacher into the lake.” Kreacher broke down in sobs once more.

Regulus’s vision went red with fury. He attempted to steady his voice as he pressed Kreacher for more information. “How did you escape?”

Kreacher regarded the young wizard. “Regulus told Kreacher to come back,” he said, matter-of-factly. “So Kreacher came back.”

“You were able to Apparate out of the cave?”

“No wizard would be able to. But for an elf, it was easy. You told Kreacher to come back when the Dark Lord was finished with him, so Kreacher did as he was told.”

Regulus stared incredulously. None of this made any sense. “Did the Dark Lord say anything to you, Kreacher? Anything at all? Did he tell you why you were there?”

“He told Kreacher that he was testing his defenses,” said Kreacher, “and when he left Kreacher on the island, he apologized.”

“He apologized?”

“He said, ‘I am sorry, dear elf, but I must sacrifice your life this day, so that I may live forever,’” Kreacher said in a perfect imitation of Voldemort’s voice. The hairs on the back of Regulus’s neck stood on end.

“So that I may live forever…”

But what had Voldemort meant? No magic could make someone live forever, no matter how powerful. And if such a power did exist, Regulus certainly had never heard of it. However, if it were possible, if Voldemort had somehow discovered such a power…Regulus’s stomach turned at the thought. If Voldemort could live forever, then they were all doomed. If he couldn’t die, he couldn’t be beaten. He thought of Sirius and his Order of the Phoenix. He thought of Des and the Muggles who had raised her. Of Broderick, the intelligent, understanding Muggleborn. And selfishly, he considered his own life. If Voldemort couldn’t die, none of them would ever be free.

---

The first day of classes after the winter holidays had hardly been remarkable. Regulus felt like a zombie, dragging through the hours, longing for sleep. But he couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t. Not until he knew what exactly Voldemort was up to, and how exactly to stop him. Since he had heard Kreacher’s tale, Regulus had spent every waking moment researching dark magic, hoping to uncover the secret. So far, he had found nothing. Besides the Philosopher’s Stone, which was apparently safely hidden somewhere with its creator Nicholas Flamel, there seemed to be no way to ensure immortality.

But what did the locket have to do with it? Regulus had asked himself this same question hundreds of times in the past weeks. When he closed his eyes at night, the scene of the lake that Kreacher had described haunted his dreams. Ultimately, these nightmares would force him awake in the early hours of morning, during which he would start his day’s research anew.

After he had finished his last class of the day, Regulus headed towards the library, determined to continue working. Pulling out several books from the restricted section, he set up camp at a table and began to read.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Regulus became vaguely aware of someone sliding into the seat next to him. When he looked up, he found Des staring at him, concerned. “You missed dinner,” she said.

“I did? Wow. Times flies.” Regulus turned his attention back to his book. In a flash, Des flicked her wand and the book slammed shut. “What was that for?” he exclaimed, frantically searching for his lost place. “I was reading that!”

“What’s going on, Regulus?” Des crossed her arms over her chest. “You look like you haven’t slept in a year! And now you’re avoiding us! Is this because of what happened before the holidays? Are you…have you gone back to him?” Regulus could sense hurt behind the tough façade she was presenting.

“No! No! Nothing like that at all! I haven’t gone back. It’s sort of the opposite, actually…And I missed you, Des.  All of you,” he added. She looked relieved.

“Ok, so, you’re not back with the baddies. That’s good. But something’s bothering you?”

“It’s just…I…I can’t say right now.” He glanced furtively around the library. There were too many prying ears.

Des rolled her eyes. “You know, the fact that you’re acting like you don’t want to tell me just makes me want to know more.”

Regulus hesitated. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to work out a believable lie. Unfortunately for him, his companion was not easily fooled.

Des cocked her head to the side, analyzing him. “You’re really not going to talk, are you? Merlin, Reg, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you murdered someone.” She narrowed her eyes. “Wait, you didn’t…”

“No!” Regulus cried, forgetting he was in the library. He earned himself a few dirty looks from some of the more devoted students. A loud SHHHHHHH echoed from beyond the bookshelves, courtesy of Madame Pince. Regulus blushed. “No,” he whispered. “I didn’t kill anyone, Merlin, Des!”

“I’m sorry, but with all that’s going on in this bloody world right now, you never know.” she spread her hands defensively. “Ok, so, you didn’t kill anyone, and you haven’t gone back to…you know…so, what is it?”

“You just don’t give up, do you?”

“Not when my friend is in trouble.” Des shook her head defiantly. “And you, mate, are clearly in some kind of trouble.”

Regulus put his head in his hands. “I just can’t say! It’s too dangerous. I want to tell you, but I can’t!”

Des bit her lip, deep in thought. Her eyebrows scrunched together quizzically. “There’s a Hogsmeade trip this weekend,” she said, after a beat.

“Ok…?” Regulus replied, suspiciously. This seemed like an odd time to change the subject.

“I know the last time we all went to Hogsmeade was…hectic…but, I know a place where we can talk without any other prying ears. If you want to talk,” she cautiously suggested.

If Regulus was being completely honest with himself, this was not the type of trip to Hogsmeade he would have preferred to be taking with Des. But, he felt he could trust her. At least, partially. There was no way he could reveal everything he knew. It would be too dangerous for her, as she would likely want to get involved. No. This was definitely a journey Regulus had to undertake alone. Still, perhaps, Des would have valuable insights. “Alright,” he agreed. She smiled softly.

Des was already waiting for him when he arrived. The first thing Regulus noticed was that—for one of the only times since he had known her—the witch looked nervous. She kept fidgeting and fussing with her clothing, pulling on her top every few seconds. She changed position ever few seconds, first leaning against the wall, then standing upright, then shifting her weight to one leg with her hip stuck out.

The second thing Regulus noticed was that Des looked fantastic. She wore high waisted jeans and a tucked-in, tight blue sweater. Her signature clear plastic glasses magnified her eyes and thick eyelashes. Her hair was pulled back in a bun by a red, polka dot bandana like that Muggle poster girl—what was her name…Rosie the Ribbiter? No that wasn’t it…Well, whatever it was, Regulus liked it that way. Des’s eyes darted around the corridor before landing on Regulus. she jumped a little when she saw him. Immediately, she broke into a wide grin, burying any previous nerves Regulus had observed. “Ah, the hermit has left the library!”

Regulus shook his head, smiling. “I thought Miss Ravenclaw of all people would approve of my new studying habits.”

Des laughed. “Come on, nerd, let’s grab some food and go!” Des led him to a table, where Woodrow and Wilhelmina were already sitting, whispering back and forth to each other:

“…bet you five galleons,” Regulus heard Wilhelmina say in a hushed tone. When Des and Regulus arrived to join them, the pair abruptly stopped their conversation. Wilhelmina smiled slyly. “Hello you two. Lovely day for a Hogsmeade trip, isn’t it?” The table jerked violently, and Wilhelmina winced.

“Whoopsie,” Des said unapologetically, reaching for the pumpkin juice. “Terribly sorry, I must have kicked you under the table by mistake.”

Wilhelmina was not deterred. “Don’t worry about it, Dezzie, I’m sure it was an accident” said Wilhelmina, before turning her attention to Regulus. “Well now, doesn’t someone look nice today?” Regulus flushed, and Wilhelmina quickly tucked her legs up onto the bench, avoiding another well-aimed kick from Des.

“Are you two coming out to the town today, too?” Regulus changed the subject.

“After what happened the last time we went to Hogsmeade? No way, mate,” McDrew said.

“Aw, poor Woody’s scared,” Wilhelmina teased. “I’d go, but I’ve got detention. I may or may not have set off a dung bomb in the library to get back at my ex and his new girlfriend.”

“Nice,” Des remarked, her mouth full of toast.

“I’m sure you’ll run into some of the others, though. But remember not to bother Marlene and Dorcas if you see them in Madame Puddifoot’s…or be prepared to deal with the consequences.” McDrew, Des, and Wilhelmina all shuddered at her words. “You two crazy kids had better get going. A line’s starting to form. Have fun,” she chirped.

Des rolled her eyes and stood. “And you have fun in detention, Willy. C’mon Reg.” Regulus obeyed and followed Des out of the Great Hall. As he left, he heard Wilhelmina begin to laugh.

“I still don’t see it, Wil. I don’t think it’s a date. I mean, Des and Reg hated each other up until a few months ago,”Regulus heard McDrew’s not-so-subtle whisper to his friend.

“You’re so thick, Woodrow. They’re obviously into each other! Marlene agrees with me. Ah I can’t wait to hear what happens! Rivals to friends to lovers! Just like all of the best books! How romantic!”

Regulus resisted the urge to go back and kick Wilhelmina in the shin himself. If she only knew the true purpose of their trip to Hogsmeade. He couldn’t think of anything less romantic or “cute” than Lord Voldemort’s plans for world domination.

---

Des and Regulus signed out of the castle with the care taker, and set off upon the familiar path to Hogsmeade. A light blanket of pearly-white snow covered the bare tree branches. The morning was grey and overcast, but enjoyably so. The sun could be seen trying to break through the cloud-covered sky. The cold was refreshing, but not biting. Des’s cheeks and nose were rosy from the crisp air.

Des and Regulus kept a few inches distance between each other. Neither one spoke. Regulus thought that this must be the first time in her life that Des was at a loss for words. “So…” Regulus tried to begin a sentence. The words died in his throat. He really didn’t know how to engage in small talk. He’d never really had to worry about speaking when he was with Ginger, and, recently, so much of his life had been devoted to his multiple existential and moral crises, that he seemed to have forgotten how to have a conversation that didn’t involve his family, Death Eaters, or Voldemort. Regulus pleaded with himself to say something, anything. But, his brain obstinately refused to comply.

Des regarded him curiously. “So…I know a place where you can tell me about…your little problem…without any chance of being overheard. I don’t think we should discuss it out in the open like this.”

Of course. Des was focused on their mission—to discuss Regulus’s Voldemort problem. He should be focused on that, too. “You’re absolutely right,” Regulus said, nodding vigorously.

“You know,” said Des after another awkward beat of silence, “just because we can’t talk about whatever it is you want to tell me out in the open, doesn’t mean we can’t talk at all.” She looked up at the trees, in the opposite direction of Regulus. She bit her bottom lip.

Regulus’s cheeks tinged pink. “I-I know. Um. What would you like to talk about?”

Des considered his question. “What’s your favorite color?”

“What? Why?”

“Why? Because I’m trying to get to know you better, Regulus! Now, what’s your favorite color?”

Regulus thought about it for a moment. “Green.”

“Aw, what a good Slytherin,” Des teased him.

“No,” he said, “not Slytherin green. Green like the ocean. When I was younger, Mum and Dad would always take us somewhere warm for the winter. We sat on the beach, and Sirius and I would make sandcastles. It was nice.”

“That sounds nice, spending time with your family…doing normal ‘family’ things. Before they messed with your mind and you joined an evil cult,” she mused.

“That about sums it up,” he agreed, trying to hold onto the memory of the warmth and the sun and the sand. Oh, how things had changed. “How about you?”

“Purple. Royal purple, like kings and queens wear,” she stated immediately. Regulus raised a questioning eyebrow, silently asking her to explain. “I’ve always liked it. Though, I guess it’s also kind of related to a memory. But, just a flash of one—from when I lived in New Orleans with my parents. Right before Dad died, when I was almost four, he brought me to the Mardi Gras parade. I can’t recall the details, but I remember flashes of color: green and purple and gold. And when I close my eyes, I can see his smiling face as he held me and put a purple strand of beads around my neck because he knew it was my favorite.” Des sighed. “Merlin, aren’t we a dramatic pair? We start off at our favorite colors, and end up at the sob stories of our broken families.” She laughed uncomfortably and began playing with the cuffs of her sleeves.

Regulus considered the comment she had made in passing. He thought about his life the past few months. The conversations he’d had, the danger he’d put himself in. Then, he began to laugh. Almost hysterically. He had to stop walking as he doubled over, hands on his knees. She looked a bit concerned. “Regulus? You alright?”

Between gasping breaths, Regulus managed to say, “You-you’re absolutely right! I am so. Fucking. Dramatic!” He lost the ability to speak once again. This time, Des joined in. Together, they stood there, smack in the middle of the trail, laughing. Onlookers passed by and shot them odd looks. But Regulus didn’t care. He felt invigorated—lighter-than-air—like he was forcing out the worries, the darkness that had consumed him for the past years. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed this hard for no reason. He felt free. His lungs burned, his stomach muscles ached, yet, he felt alive.

“Do you…do you maybe want to grab a butterbeer like normal people before we go off to your secret dramatic place to talk about my secret, dramatic news?” Regulus asked, before he could think better of it, still high off of his semi-hysterical breakdown.  

Des grinned. “I reckon that’d be a nice change of pace.”

---

“You’re mental! There is no way that Potions is better than Transfiguration!”

“You asked my opinion,” Regulus insisted, spreading his hands out in front of himself defensively. He chuckled at Des’s indignation. “You asked what I preferred! I’m just telling you!”

Regulus and Des were seated at a cozy corner table in The Three Broomsticks, sipping their butterbeer and asking each other trivial questions. Regulus almost felt normal.

Des rolled her eyes. “Merlin, I know, but I thought you’d have the right opinion. I don’t know if we can even be friends anymore, Reg,” she said seriously. Regulus stared back, playing along with her faux aggravation.

“Fine,” he said, matter-of-factly. “We’re not friends anymore. Then I guess I’ll just go off and find some other boisterous Ravenclaw to tell all my secrets to. One who appreciates the subtle art of potion making.” Regulus pretended to get up to leave.

Des tilted her head to the side. “Aw, Reg, it’s sweet you think you’d ever find anyone as ‘boisterous’—as you so delicately put it— as me.” Her façade broke, and she began laughing. Regulus joined in.

“You’re absolutely right,” he joked. “You’re one of a kind.” An awkward silence fell over the table. Regulus averted his eyes. “Ok, my turn. Hm… let me think of a good one…Alright, alright. I’ve got it. Favorite vacation?” He asked.

“Oooooh that’s a tough one, Black. I’ll have to think on it. You go first.”

“Greece,” Regulus replied immediately. “I went to see the Quidditch World Cup there when I was ten. England lost, but it was a great game.”

“Merlin, you went to Greece and all you can talk about is a Quidditch match? Not the ruins or the history?” Des chided.

“Listen, I’m from an ancient line of pureblood wizards. I can look at fancy old stuff whenever I want. But Quidditch,” he sighed dreamily. They both laughed.

“Alright, fair point,” Des conceded. “Quidditch. What a good little pureblood wizarding boy,” she teased.

“Hey, you say that like it’s a bad thing. I’ll have you know I’m one of the most eligible bachelors in pureblood society. As we speak, families are throwing themselves at my parents in the hopes of getting their daughters a piece of all this,” he gestured to himself seductively. Des cracked up. Regulus had never felt so at ease bantering with anyone before.

“Oh my, I must have forgotten! I’m in the presence of wizarding royalty! Lord Black! Please accept my deepest admirations! I kneel down at your feet! I exalt you! I envy the woman who traps your arse!”

“Your turn, Lewis,” Regulus demanded, after their laughter died down. Regulus’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“My turn, right. Okay. The best vacation I’ve ever been on would probably have to be…oh I got it! Our family trip to Cozumel. Uncle Thad was doing some research in Mexico, but Aunt Eliza wanted some time off, so while he worked, she and I went to a resort. I know you can’t really get to know a place just by being in a resort, but I just felt so relaxed. I’d never really bonded in that way with my aunt before—if you couldn’t tell, she’s usually a bit uptight.”

“No, your aunt? Uptight? Preposterous!” Regulus interjected sarcastically.

“I know, what a shocker. But, really, on this trip, we had so much fun together. We sat poolside drinking Piña Coladas and singing that Piña Colada song loudly whenever it came on the radio. It was brilliant.”

“Pee-nya Cold-latas?” Regulus questioned, now seriously. “Song?” Des’s eye widened with glee.

“Merlin’s balls, I forgot all you purebloods aren’t exposed to Muggle culture. Well, let me tell you: Piña Coladas—” Des sounded it out for Regulus “—are by far the best beverage money can buy. They’re made of rum and pineapple and coconut and it’s a rule that you must have one when you are on vacation at the beach,” Des spoke a mile a minute, rambling about her love of the strange-sounding Muggle beverage. Regulus laughed at her enthusiasm.

“Well, if I ever get to the beach again, I’ll have to try one. And there’s a song about them?” Regulus asked, highly amused. Muggles were quite strange.

“Yes! The Piña Colada Song is a musical masterpiece of the modern era,” she waved her hands dramatically. “Oh, my goodness!” She clapped her hands together loudly.  “I’m so excited! I get to be the one who introduces you to the Piña Colada Song! Ugh, maybe Aunt Eliza will send me her record and I can borrow Flitwick’s turntable…I’ll tell him it’s an emergency…why are you looking at me like that? Have I got a butterbeer moustache or something? Because if I did, it would be extremely un-gentleman-like not to tell me!”

Regulus was staring at her, his mouth stretched in an uncontrollable grin. “No, no! Nothing like that. I was just thinking about how…fascinating you are, Des. You really are one of a kind.”

Des looked taken aback. She averted her eyes shyly. “Well,” she said, regaining her usual air of confidence “it’s just… I really like the Piña Colada Song.” A breathy laugh escaped her. Cautiously, Regulus placed a hand outstretched on the table. He tried to act casual about it. Did Regulus really have to talk to her about the Dark Lord? Did he really have to think about the impending doom that awaited everyone he loved if he didn’t figure out Voldemort’s plan? Couldn’t he just leave it to someone else and enjoy his afternoon in peace, like a normal teenage wizard?

Des’s hand twitched, moving slightly towards his own. Before she took it, however, she looked up at the clock beside them. She sighed. “I reckon we’d better go,” she said, draining the last sip of butterbeer from her mug. He frowned, but nodded. She was right.