#vampire!regulus black

"I mean really," You scoff, "Look at this! There's dead leaves everywhere, and that tree is rotten, it's completely tipped over! And what about those vines," You gesture to the side of his house that looks as though it's been eaten alive by the invasive plant, "That's ridiculous! This place is an eyesore."

Regulus stands dumbfounded on his doorstep, one hand tightly clutching the door to ground himself while you speak. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? In his 700 years of living in this house, no one has ever come up to him, much less berated him for the way he lives.

Your condescending tone finally restores some of his usual haughtiness, though, stubborn pride at match with your own, "I'm not a gardener. If you don't like looking at it, then don't."

"I can't help it, none of us can! No wonder children are scared of you, this place seems straight out of a horror novel!"

"Why are you here? Just to insult my botanical skills, or is there some deeper purpose within you?" Regulus leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as his jaw locks tight in a frown.

"I'm here to tell you to shit or get off the pot," You huff, "Either get out here and fix this yourself, or I will."

"What?"

You roll your eyes, hands tossed in the air frustratedly, "What's not to understand! If you don't start tending to your garden, I will."

"Go away," Regulus sneers, backing into the dark doorway of his foreboding home, door already half shut, "And don't come back."

Regulus is awoken the next morning to an invasive whirring sound coming from his side yard, stumbling out of his grandiose bed and peering through the curtains. Light streams through the gap in the fabric and he grimaces, ignoring the sting on his skin as he tries finding the cause of the disturbance.

Of course, it's you. Regulus doesn't know why he didn't expect it, you'd certainly been bold to show up and tell him off in the first place. But he'd assumed his ice cold nature would be enough to scare you off for good.

But no, the sun hat on your head and the overalls over your torso prove that he hasn't been cold enough, the weedwhacker in your hand demolishing the foliage debris on the pavement.

He slides on a silk robe, too prideful to step outside the confines of his house in his emerald green sleepwear, stalking to the front door and yanking it open.

"What are you doing here?" He spits, glare locked onto your form as you turned to face him.

"Well, it's about time you noticed me. Heavy sleeper, aren't you?" The bright grin on your face is not what he hoped his chilling glare would bring, expression as bright as the sun that burns his skin.

"Get off my property," Regulus drawls, "I'm getting very tired of asking you."

"Then don't keep asking." You fire back, triumphant grin on your face when you were able to frustrate him into silence, "And get dressed, you're helping me. You can start on the vines."

Regulus stands in the doorway with his mouth slightly ajar, confused gaze locked on you as you turn back towards your work. He stands for only a few seconds more, until he unfreezes and pivots back inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

He intends on going back to bed, burying a pillow over his face and ignoring your annoying presence, but his feet betray him, leading him to the window that stretches the entire length of the foyer. They settle him on the cushions of his lounge as he peers through them, eyes trained on you as you work.

He notices your fatigue early on. He has no idea how long you've been there, but you seem to be taking frequent breaks from being hunched over, leaning back against his rickety iron fence and closing your eyes.

No amount of pain seems to be stopping you, though, as you persist through the yard, cleaning out an entire corner of decaying tree branches, dead leaves, and persistent ivy. Regulus is reluctant to admit that his yard looks completely unrecognizable as you walk away from it, grass still a pitiful sight but sidewalk swept clean and fence standing tall, unobscured by plants. Each tree branch that you'd cleared is hastily tossed beyond the gate, lingering on the curb in a heap of misery.

Something deep inside Regulus itches to join you, a split second urge that he scolds himself for in the moments after it surfaces. He'd asked you multiple times to leave, you were trespassing on his property. He should not want to help you. But the satisfied smile on your face when you dust your hands clean, wiping them on your overalls and reaching for a single, almost empty water bottle laying on the sidewalk does him in.

He's upset at your persistence, but admires it all the same. He's never met anyone in the neighborhood that's even tried approaching him, let alone demand that something be done about his house and then do it themselves when he purposefully ignores them.

The sun beams hot in the sky, rays scorching Regulus's skin as he surveys you. He finally lets the curtain go, glancing at the elegant clock in the corner of his foyer and seeing that it's ten in the morning.

All you have out there is that measly water bottle, barely any liquid left inside, but you show no signs of stopping. Regulus's own throat is parched from simply sleeping, he can't imagine how thirsty you must be out in the blazing sun.

He only spends a moment deliberating, finally rising from the lounge and gathering the cheapest of his fine china. If he's going to offer you hospitality, it'll be begrudgingly.

He brews a steaming pot of tea, filling his cup with much more of the brew than your own. He takes a deep breath before swinging open the door, intent on setting your cup on the flowerbox and shutting himself inside once more, but you bound eagerly up to him, an exuberant grin on your face.

“Did y’come to join me?”

“No,” Regulus sighs, holding the tray out to you like it would explode if he kept it too close, “Take the cup.”

“Oh,” Your eyes light up brighter than the sun, the damned sun, as you scoop the tea cup off of the platter, “You brought me tea?”

“You don’t have much water left,” Regulus gestures with his free hand to the bottle on the sidewalk, “And I didn’t want to be responsible for you if you passed out in my- hey!”

You don’t even wait for him to finish his sentence before you’re slipping past him into the house, rushing eagerly over to sprawl yourself across his lounge, teacup held delicately in your palm.

“Cool couch,” You gush, draped dramatically over the furniture, “It makes me feel like I’m in some old romance movie.”

Regulus finally breaks out of his frozen trance, spluttering indignantly, “What are you doing?! Get out, you can’t just go into someone’s home without an invitation!”