A little warning: the video is based off on the dance that Luna and Regulus do here. I struggled so hard to write that scene omg.

Now, to the chapter, some warnings:

1) I'm medicated, so remember that while you read and be kind to me. Feel free to correct, but PLEASE COMMENT. I just want to make sure I did a good enough job, because I loved writing this chapter.

2) People that are into period pieces and romantic period pieces, I think you all are going to like the aesthetic of this chapter, because OOF. I felt completely drained after this one, and I understand why people would sleep through the whole morning afterwards, and I just wrote the scene. Didn't even go there lol.

3) I'm clearly repeating, but PLEASE COMMENT!!

In Lyall's absence, it was declared proper for Luna to enter on Remus' arm into the ballroom of the Ministry, which meant that Luna was under people's eyes as soon as the very tall, scarred boy walked into the room.

Walburga Black smirked.

"It fit," she mused to herself, but her husband turned to look at her.

Orion was even more handsome than usual, combing his hair back with his fingers and pushing the curls away from his face as he looked around. With slim-fitted outer robes marking his shapely shoulders and going straight to his arms, making him appear taller and fitter, he also towered over people with the dark black colour he used, almost sucking the light of the room every time he moved. He caught the attention his wife wanted him to, that much was clear by her satisfaction – why she wanted his clothes to be the attention, however, was something he didn't dare get involved.

"I suppose it did," he dismissed. "Whatever it was your plan, you managed it. Congratulations, Madame."

She half-glared at him, looking away from Luna.

"The girl needs to move on and see the world for what it is," she said.

"You tried that awful trick of matchmaking of yours at the wedding, it didn't work out quite the way you planned it, my wife" he reminded her, voice gentler than he would use with others. "But this time you have someone in mind, I'd hazard."

"You hazard correctly, Orion, of course," she said, as if thinking otherwise would be a stupid decision. "Elias Hansen's son is seventeen, young Mister Askel Hansen, is rather green, but dutifully complimented in Norway for his work ethics and his surprisingly convicted passion for Alchemy since his mother passed away a few years ago."

Orion sighed, shaking his head side to side.

"Leave the girl alone for tonight, Walburga. This is a public ball, not your hosting duty. Must you plot even here, away from your private soirées?" he said.

"Where's the fun in that, then? I wouldn't have come otherwise," Walburga said, turning to her husband and putting her hands on her waist. The dark green silk shimmered at her movement, glistening under her long evening gloves. "Regulus needs to start focusing on school more."

"His grades are excellent," he said.

"He got second place."

"After Crouch's boy, not the girl. Even my own father seems impressed with both results," Orion said. "I chaperoned them before while on promenades, and I can assure that schoolwork is indeed a topic of conversation amongst them. Refreshing as it, they do care for school and for the weight it holds."

Walburga rolled her eyes like a petulant child, ignoring the way that he could see Evan Rosier and his sister, Pandora, talking to Regulus across the room in animated spirits, still only half-aware of the new presence in the ballroom.

"We are already being mocked, Orion, and I'm doing my best with holding onto the strings, but you don't seem to care about what this family has been going through! We are the joke," she said in a low, annoyed tone. She glanced around, shifting her weight almost imperceptibly. "Druella's new living arrangements have been a topic in the lady's rooms for weeks now, and it's not dying down as it should."

"So you're bringing the girl in, hoping a scandal with her could protect us from our own?" Orion said, exhausted of his wife's antics. "She's fifteen –"

"Sixteen."

Orion almost rolled his own eyes this time around, not interested in being corrected. Still, he took a deep breath and pushed down his annoyance as he looked at Luna across from the ballroom, watching her smile brightly as James Potter talked to her in white and bronze formal wizarding robes, hair combed back and contained (for the time being, for he knew Potter hair's fame in its indomitable natural tendencies).

"Your brother's decisions with his paramour and his wife's lack of regard for her own daughter's marriage does not entail that Luna Lupin has to somehow save us from our merciless companions. She doesn't even know what she's doing most of the time – she's a Potter puppet through and through," Orion said.

Walburga scoffed.

"If you think so, then you're not as intelligent as you tell yourself to be, husband," she said coldly. "That chit is conniving."

Impressed by the sudden name-calling, Orion turned to stare at his wife and raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, and how so?" he asked.

"Her father isn't here," Walburga said. "I don't know much about Lyall Lupin, but I can assure you that he was invited to this ball, and yet she's here with the Potters. That awful Euphemia Potter is throwing her Guardianship around since the wedding, thinking that would protect the girl from being spoken for by someone else once Regulus moves on."

"And we got to accept that it'll take time. Regulus doesn't want to move on," Orion said.

"Because the other options are not as openly presented. He's still in school and we agreed to only think of his marriage once he was out of it, that was the plan, that was the deal we made when Sirius was born," Walburga said, turning to her husband again and smoothing down her skirts. "But if we show him that there are other men out there that want her, and we make the world know how desirable she can be under the correct light, we can still have some gratefulness from her in the future."

"And you want the girl to be grateful to us?" Orion asked, an amused grin in his face.

Walburga's face turned somber.

"As you said, even your father is impressed. There's something about the girl, and we better have her own our side," Walburga said, looking at Luna – she was one of the only ones dressed in white. "And to have her on our side does not mean that I need her to like me, but I need her to know that we're at her corner when, inevitably, things fall through with the Potters. No one is loyal to anyone but family – Sirius will learn, and so will she."

"So this is revenge? This is you trying to make her seem like our Ward, not theirs, even though the legal complications are on their court. How ingenious," teased Orion. "Walburga, only you see things through this light."

Walburga shook her head, fluffing up her hair in complicated curls.

"No, it is not. Otherwise, Euphemia Potter would've dressed her in any other colour, to make her blend in better," Walburga said, discreetly pointing at the Indian brooch on Luna's chest. "She knows I want something. Her acceptance of it is an invitation for conversation – an open dialogue of what can be good for the girl; if she disagrees with my motives and attempts, I can bring her over, if she agrees, then she's just as interested in Luna Lupin's future as we are. If the Potters are reaching for her, there's something there that your father can see. Let's try to get it."

Even if through other concerns there were more important matters at hand with Luna Lupin, Walburga added in her mind.

It seemed to have a colour palette in the Potters' and guests' clothing, safe from Hope Jensen's robes. Just as Walburga had said, Orion realised, Euphemia knew what she was doing.

Bronze, white and blue – light, neutral colours that made the pink in Luna's dress pop. Remus Lupin, tall and awkward, seemed put together in his white half-wizard, half-muggle suit that Euphemia had bought him, just a tiny splash of the bronze in the buttons and the rest of the colour blue in the tie. Sirius, charming and all smiles, seemed somber and completely out of place in formal wizarding robes, hair pulled back into a ponytail ever so familiar (Orion had used his hair like that before, when he was younger) with a silk blue ribbon, and was mostly in bronze, not much white in sight. Peter Pettigrew – the tiny boy often following the boys – seemed completely ecstatic to be in the ballroom, standing beside Luna with a huge smile as he fixed the white suits that had been fitted for him, but clearly altered.

"The Pettigrew boy, what do we have on him?" Orion asked.

Uninterested, Walburga raised her eyes before looking down again, dismissing the boy's existence completely.

"Not very bright, not overly social either. Single half-blood mother, a widow," Walburga said. "The least of our troubles when Sirius was ours."

Orion narrowed his eyes at the boy.

"He's wearing all-white," Orion told her.

"An attempt to make her look more acceptable, less of an attention-seeker. I expected at least one of them would be dressed so," Walburga said. She looked at the boy again. "That suit isn't his."

Orion raised his eyebrows.

"Oh? And whose is it?" he asked.

Walburga narrowed her eyes. "I don't know," she admitted.

Regulus turned around, looking over his shoulder at that very moment when Pandora Rosier opened a bright smile and waved openly at her friend from across the ballroom, completely disregarding her mother's chastising whispers.

Walburga ticked her tongue in disapproval when, immediately upon his discovery, Regulus turned around and walked away from his friends, crossing the whole room with his eyes stuck on the beauty that she had created for him to admire from afar, like a good gentleman that she had raised him to be.

"We better greet them," Orion said, offering his hand to her.

Resting her hand on top of her husband's hand's palm was a comforting signal of support that she took to heart, allowing it to flutter just enough as they crossed the room to follow her son. Hope Jensen was the first to notice them when people started moving out of the way, allowing their path to form clearly.

Hope turned, forcing a painful smile.

"Lady Black," she greeted. "Lord Black."

"Madame," Orion greeted, bowing his head respectfully before addressing the men one per one. He turned to his wife, allowing her greetings to be uninterrupted.

Luna stepped forward, feeling Regulus moving slightly beside her to offer her some space.

"Lady Black, I'd like to thank you for the dress. Mister Black's letters led me to believe your heart was on choosing it for me. It was very polite of your part, your concern for my first public ball is touching," she said.

Regulus glanced at her through the corner of his eyes, silently begging her to hold her tongue just a bit more. It had been polite, but the attack underneath had been felt by all in that group.

Peter Pettigrew silently took a glass of champagne, sipping on it quietly under Fleatmont's watchful eye, who put a comforting hand on his shoulder. His eyes were stuck on Sirius' back becoming as stiff as the table of food, making him appear taller and paler than when he had fallen from his broomstick back at the Manor, after the first scare. It was a squeeze there that made the younger boy look around just to notice a young girl smiling at him across the room and Fleatmont's smirk growing.

"Oh, look at that, Miss Lucy Bonepon is here. Isn't she a good friend, Peter?" Fleatmont said.

"Oh, yes, Monty," Peter said, surprised that he knew that. "Her parents are friends with my mother."

"Why don't you and the boys go greet her? I'm sure the grown-up talk here will be far too mundane for your youthful fun," Euphemia said, turning to him with a gentle smile. "I'm certain that Luna won't be here for long either; a dance in such a ball will be quite the request, I'd expect."

"When she's dressed as beautifully," Orion agreed.

Luna smiled a bit at him. Walburga glanced at her husband through the corner of her eyes, unsure of where he was leading the conversation.

Fortunately, the boys seemed to understand that they were being dismissed from the conversation and swiftly made their way through the room by the corner, avoiding the dancing couples. Remus was the only one to hesitate, but watched as Sirius led the way away from his own families. He glanced at his sister, but she looked so relaxed and calm when he nodded back at him that he saw no other option but to follow his friends.

"Miss Lupin, I'm so glad that the dress fit well," Walburga said. "You look delightful in it."

"I feared I'd look like a cloud," she admitted. "But your good tastes are beyond reprehension, My Lady."

Walburga felt her ego be massaged slightly even though she knew that the girl was doing it on purpose. Still, her shoulders rolled back, and her chest filled like a proud bird facing its match in nature, all feathers and beautiful arrogance.

"I aimed for snowflake," Walburga admitted.

"A snowstorm would be more appropriate to Lun – Miss Lupin's personality, I'd dare say," Regulus said, correcting himself before his mother could. "However, its originality could certainly make up for its lack of wildness."

Luna turned to him, a grin coming to her lips.

"Do you see me as wild?" she asked, eyes glistening in mischief.

"Untameable," he admitted with a soft look.

It was the highest compliment in a world so easily controlled by someone like him. Her wildness was a trait he couldn't bear to part with, not even for a few moments. He didn't even mind when she seemed to tease his mother at her own risk. A great danger and fun to be oneself, he seemed to admit in his own amusement.

Looking every bit her age, Luna giggled.

Walburga looked away to find Hope staring at the couple with a chaste smile.

Regulus turned to his mother and Luna's.

"May I walk around the room with Miss Lupin?" he asked. "I'm certain Pandora will be enthusiastic. She's been going on and on about her upcoming nuptials, her brother is livid with me for asking."

Luna smiled.

"Evan must be terrified," she cooed.

"He's not a child. His sister is getting married, not dying," Regulus said, rolling his eyes.

Orion made a little noise, as if the difference between those two was not as great as his son seemed to think so.

"I see my sister a few days per year since she married," Orion reminded his son.

Regulus held back an attack on Aunt Lucretia's husband, for nobody in the family seemed to truly enjoy the weak man's company, just nodded as if to pass the subject along and request his father's support for their turn about the room.

"I don't see why not," Hope said.

Walburga gave him a nod.

Regulus whisked Luna away in his arm in a second, quick to get away from his family.

Hope watched her daughter lean against Regulus' side and arm without a single concern in the world beside the fact that Pandora was holding hands with Xenophilius and was waving her over, excited to share news.

"Isn't Pandora sixteen?" Hope asked, finally looking away.

"She's about to turn sixteen," Fleatmont correct.

"And she's getting married?" she asked, frowning.

"It's been arranged for a while now, since they were very young. It came to be a good partnership," Orion said, nodding at Hope's concerns. "Mister Lovegood and Miss Rosier will be a good couple."

"They're too young," Hope complained.

Euphemia reached discreetly for her arm, caressing her skin in silence before pulling her own hand away. Hope looked at her, confused, but said nothing.

"Sixteen is a good age for marriage," Walburga said, voice distant. "She won't have to have children until she's out of school, it's part of the new law."

"New law?" Euphemia asked, frowning.

Orion nodded.

"One I've been trying to pass in parliament for the last few weeks, it seems to be going well with the support of the Rosiers. And I'm certain that Lord Potter will agree with my concerns for the young women in the future of the wizarding world," Orion said.

"That is something we can get along with, Lord Black," Fleatmont said, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Make sure your aides can forward the documents to me until tomorrow, and you'll shall have my vote on your table if the ideas somehow align."

Orion nodded once, looking away from the man.

Euphemia reached over, taking a small cup of brandy and sipping on it before offering another one to Hope.

"It's a good cause," Hope managed to say in the awkward silence that fell.

Walburga looked at her, taking in every single detail in the woman before looking away.

"A necessary and late cause," she corrected.

Hope just looked at Walburga, unsure of how to tell her that she agreed, even if her agreement seemed to somehow to offend the woman.

"One that has been a long time coming. Children are not meant to have children," Euphemia said, voice diplomatic. Something in Walburga's shoulders relaxed just a bit. "We should protect our children better."

Walburga gave a nod.

"This... Irish thing happening, that too is a good cause, isn't it?" Hope said. She knew the answer and she knew the probable opinion of the people around her, still she asked anyway. It made Euphemia smiled to herself. "Irish power in the parliament that has control over as well, I'd imagine they would be more amenable in the society once they have control over it, isn't it?"

Orion mumbled 'isn't it?' to himself, the wording of it was annoying to him. He ignored what she said, looking around for the one thing that he really cared about: whiskey. He really wanted whiskey at that very moment, perhaps a glass or two – when was the last time he had drunk whiskey? Two days ago? Three? He had been living mostly on beer at that point, it was very boring.

"The Irish have their own country to take care of, that's what they wanted, after all," Walburga said.

"Yet their children study here," Hope reminded the group.

"They should've thought of it before deciding they didn't want to be part of the kingdom anymore," Walburga said, sickly-sweet.

Hope hesitated.

"Perhaps –"

"Perhaps politics shouldn't be the talk tonight," Fleatmont said, turning around and smiling at the women. "Perhaps that dashing young man dancing with sweet Luna should be. Mister Rosier, I believe."

"Evan, yes, yes," Orion said with a nod, trying to change the subject.

"A quadrille for the first dance of the ball, how delightful," Euphemia tried.

Hope turned to Euphemia, feeling somewhat belittled and chastised by the quickly squashed conversation that she had started. However, Euphemia looked at Hope with a grave expression, something of a warning underneath the eyes. It was a quick glance, but Hope understood the danger she had missed, and looked away and towards her daughter, smiling at her friend as she held onto Evan Rosier's wrist.

There was a lot that Hope didn't understand of the world, and she was had just been thrown into the pack of hungry wolves, protected only a much worse animal: public opinion. So, she stayed quiet.

"Your shields are strong tonight," Regulus said near her ear.

Luna turned her face to the side a bit, the side of her nose touching his chin. He was leaning over her slightly, trying to be heard over the music and the conversations happening around them. His whole side was against her – so close and so warm.

"It's hard to focus, but I have been working hard at it," she admitted.

"You've been dancing hard tonight. Perhaps a break?" he offered, glancing at some chairs near the open French doors. "A drink?"

She looked at him, suspicious eyes.

"A drink?" she repeated.

"I can find alcohol," he said with a shrug.

"You hate when people drink," she said.

"I think you deserve some fun tonight," he said with a single should shrug this time. He leaned further against her, nudging the side of her face with his nose. She giggled, looking the other way. "Champagne or wine?"

"Which is sweetest?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Your kiss," he answered right away.

Humming appreciatively at the flirting and joking, she pressed her lips together, thinking of something equally good to say. Reaching behind her, she found his attire and pulled him closer, wanting to lean against him.

"You two are disgusting, did you know that? I think you two should know that," Evan complained right from behind them.

Trying his best to not look as caught as he felt, Regulus Occluded his blushing cheeks as he turned his face to the other side, noticing Evan with curled disgusted lips and Barty's amused grin. While he and Luna were close to the wall, almost facing it with their backs to the dancing couples as they talked (whispered) into each other's ears, breathing against one another after their first dance – some polka that they danced while talking –, Barty had danced with Pandora and then walked her back to her soon-to-be-husband and Evan had gone mope around because Pandora didn't want to go home early.

"And you're being inconvenient, did you know that? I think you should know that, Evan," Regulus said, rolling his eyes at his friend.

"Stop necking your girlfriend, mate. Let me dance with her," Evan said.

Regulus turned to look at Luna.

"Do you want to dance with Evan?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I was being promised a sweet drink," she said, turning to Regulus again, back now against the wall instead of against him. She smiled at Evan. "Though, I'm quite tired and soon there'll be a waltz."

Evan smirked.

"Oh, you're dancing Anna's Waltz, are you?" he teased.

"I plan on it," she said, trying not to blush herself.

Regulus was so glad that she had brought it up. He had written his name in the waltz' name in her dance card, but he had been hesitant that she didn't want to dance something like that in front of people. He wanted to dance with her – any dance at all, but especially the waltz. To hold her close openly, completely take her into his arms and show her off, holding her fat too closely and tell the world that it was because there were far too many people dancing around them. To feel her close, pressing against him... it was simply a dream come true.

"Who taught you? Pandora doesn't know it very well," Evan said, crossing his arms.

That caught Regulus' attention. He looked at her again.

"James Potter," she said.

"Oh?" Barty said, holding back a smile.

"His mother said it was alright, and James' a good dancer," she said, blushing a bit. "But I was so excited to dance it with you, Regulus, that I could barely pay attention."

"We'll do fine," he appeased her right away.

He slowly led her to face him, face-to-face, so very close to one another.

"It's like the waves or a swan's wings," he took her arm, putting her hand up, as if she was about to wave. He put his arm against hers. "Elbows first, then arm, wrist. A light touch of palms. Now, you through inside – elbow, arm and wrist – and now the other way. Good. We'll do the same with the other arm. And traditional waltz posture – one, two, three. One, two three. Good." He smiled when he noticed her concentration. "Now, while waltzing, the hands wave around one another, as is dismissing a rambling fool, there. Good. This way. Our arms cross in front of us, your arms over mine. A touch, a brush of skin – there. Your hands to my shoulder, I'll lead them away."

"Oh, I remember that part," she agreed.

He smiled at her.

He didn't need to hold her at all to make her hands move away from him, going to the next steps of the very discreet version of the dance that they were making.

"Palm to palm, we keep on waltzing. Our feet don't stop since the swan hands were over," he said to her, knowing that he had to remind her since they were standing there "And waving hands again, let me lead you through it – you'll lead me through the turn."

"Turn?"

"The woman leads the man to turn, back to her before turning back towards her, ever so eager to see her face again," he said, teasing tone light. "And then, face to face again – still waltzing, of course."

"Of course," she said with a sigh, frowning in concentration again. She wanted to remember everything.

He bit back a smirk.

"Arms out, arms in. Arms out, and a turn," he said.

Again, Luna noticed it looked like wings whenever her arms opened and his followed. It wasn't as open, but it was instinctive, as if they had danced it before many times and their bodies knew what to do. She felt ready to take flight, and he seemed ready to catch her.

They weren't done passing the choreography through when the dance happening ended and people started moving to prepare for the next one.

"Go on, then," Evan said, moody. "Go dance with your girl and leave us to fend for ourselves."

"Don't be bitter for being so alone, Evvy," Barty teased his friend.

Evan glared at him, but said nothing else when Regulus winked and walked through them, leading Luna towards the dancefloor.

There was less free space in the dancefloor in the Ministry ballroom than in the private ballroom in Grimmauld Place, after all there were many more couples spread around, preparing to get attention and fun from a night that was supposed to be completely about politics, and it never was.

Regulus and Luna stood amongst the circles of pretty tulles, silks and lace of several colours, mingling with the people that could certainly be their future one day. At one side, there was the niece of the Minister of Magic and her betrothed; at the other, there was a muggleborn witch that was climbing ranks and her half-blood husband, that was working in St. Munguns at the time.

"I can see your heartbeat," Regulus admitted, looking at her neck. He knew and he shared some of her awkwardness as well.

The song started.

They stepped towards one another at the same time, her left arm slowly reaching up to meet his elbow and gently they rocked back and forth – not quite waltzing yet, but swaying along the melody of the song as their arms turned into waves meeting the sandy beach. They did the same with the other arm as well, exchanging sides for a moment as they did so. Regulus smiled to himself at the warm touch of the palm of her hands against his.

She stepped forward, not giving him time to do so. He still led her through the traditional pose of waltz.

Normally, one would have to look away from one's partner while dancing, for the bodies were far too close for the faces to be stare at one another comfortably, noses almost touching as they stepped and turned through the melody. Regulus was always the first to say that some things should be kept quiet and separate from the popular view, but he couldn't dare to pull his eyes away from Luna at the moment.

Their noses touched as they waltzed across the room, her white skirt opening space as they did a double step without hitting another couple. It felt gracious. It felt regal.

It felt completely like a daydream that he had before.

His hand waved through her hers before she had the chance to, leading her into twisting her wrist and intertwine her arm against his as he lowered it. A complicated view of arm-work for such a simple step – his dance tutor had called it the 'Dismissing Fool' when he was a child, and he loved that step.

Their arms crossed in front of them in an 'X', hers above his. He led her first hand up and she quickly held onto his shoulder. While the touch was meant to be light and quick, like a supporting pivot, the weight of her hand on his shoulder over his robes made him smile at her as he reached for it, squeezing unnecessarily, but chastely before leading them away from him. He didn't want to, but he had to – and he didn't trust himself to keep on dancing if her hands were so warm against his body and he still had to concentrate on leading her through everything and not hit another couple in the process.

Palm to palm, they stood far too closely, but they kept on dancing.

She looked divine. She looked absolutely perfect.

But one moment of hesitation in her eyes made his eyes flicker.

"What?" he mouthed.

She didn't answer.

The swan hands came back, and they stepped in rhythm, but he didn't look away from her eyes, searching for what made her heartbeat double its speed in the hollow part of her throat, eyes shining as if stuck in a trance against his.

She took his hands so carefully that he was surprised to feel her touch in his skin at all, and he raised his arms above his head, doing the promenade turn and quickly turning around again (too quickly, he realised later on) to not lose her eyes from his focus.

He lowered his hand.

A fleeting touch of the side of her face before letting it rest on her shoulder, finger brushing against the clavicle.

She sighed.

Regulus held his breath, arm going around her waist again for a proper waltzing position, pulling her closer than needed to him, letting her body melt against his and lean towards him, as if he was a source of heat in a cold day. One of her arms was supposed to be floating near her dress, but it wasn't. It reached for his shoulder and the other to his side, touching his ribs carefully before letting it get away.

He took a deep breath.

He wasn't sure when the movements became so automatic for them in such a new dance, but he barely had to think of what to do to make sure that Luna wouldn't be embarrassed of him in the dancefloor. All he had to do was think through the movement, and they were doing it.

Luna's first genuine smile through the dance came when her arms opened, like a threat of a wonderful embrace. His arms followed, fingertips accompanying her naked arms. When her arms closed, his followed, embracing her discreetly through the movement.

That was when the first mistake happened.

Instead of a turn, offering her hand to his, Luna's hands found his shoulders as she lost her footing for a second, too focused on his smell involving her like his arms threatened to do through the whole dance, but never promised.

To make sure she would still be standing, Regulus put his hands underneath her arms and raised her from the ground.

Luna was lighter than he remembered, his mind recognised immediately. And it had been far too easy for him to raise her above his head without much help from her arm – still, his feet knew what to do and did a slow, deliberate turn as if he had been planning on it the whole time. He did put her on the ground, far too slowly.

Her breath trembled when her heels touched the ground, her nose brushing against him.

"Luna?" he whispered.

"Reg," she whispered back, as if that an answer at all.

Mumbling around them made Regulus swallow down his saliva forcefully, taking half a step back (not enough for him to feel any less drunk) hands already finding hers. He knew he needed to focus if they wanted to make it through the night.

He raised her wrist for her, holding her hand with his other before offering his – now – free hand for her to hold crossed. He put both of their hands up and lead her under them, her straight back not hunching as she went back to stand gracefully in front of him.

One would think she had been doing this for a very long time.

How positively glowing she was under the candlelight, he thought.

Their still crossed hands were reached out in front of them, and he turned both, letting go of her hands as they stood in front of one another with just one step in between each other. They stepped towards one another at the same time, ever in synchrony, for their hands and arms to join again.

The rest of the performance was a blur, where neither of them were ever sure they were doing it completely right, for all they could think of how of how hot the ballroom was, how filled it was and how positively beautiful the other was.

Gone was focus.

Gone was anything but each other and the way that they heart seemed to want to break its contentions against the bone cages they called ribs. The hearts were birds, begging for release, begging for their songs to be sung out loud and clear for anybody was that willing to listen.

When – finally – the moment where Luna should've been lifted from the ground came, he once more held her far too closely.

He looked down just for a second.

Her breasts were covered for the most part, if not for the fullness on the very top, threatening to spill over the fabric when they were so close, pressed against one another and with her bosom heaving through the effort of such dance. Her neck was long and the fluttering of her blood rushing underneath made him slightly dizzy – he wanted to bite, feel its pulsation under his tongue.

He had to hold back a loud gasp, because breathing wasn't enough anymore.

He wanted her.

Regulus wanted to consume her whole, swallow up every inch that she could bear to offer him. Regulus wanted nothing more than to be everything she wanted him to be, and anything she needed him to be.

The song seemed to end before its time.

It was through the applause, the smell of cigar and cigarette smoke, sweat and candle fumes that they were brought back to the present.

Luna was the first to look away, eyes searching through the crowd of watchers for anything to tell her how her dance had come along.

"I think –" she started.

"One more?" he whispered, unable to control himself.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glistening. Some of her hair had slipped from its armour of braided crown and framed her face perfectly.

"We already danced twice," she said, glancing around.

"One more and no more for tonight," he promised. He leaned forward. "I don't want to let go of you yet."

Some cleared their throat near them.

Luna's eyes widened comically when Regulus turned around, fixing his posture and taking his hands away from her waist almost right away as he looked at his uncle with some shock in his face.

"I don't think another dance would be a good idea tonight, Regulus. You danced enough, didn't you? Some refreshment and a seat would be a good choice to let the heart rest easy, especially your mother's poor heart," Uncle Alphard said.

Regulus looked around the room, noticing some people were watching and some were whispering. His mother stood beside Euphemia Potter looking disturbed, pale and statue-like beside a young man, who was still talking to a victorious looking Euphemia. Hope's coloured cheeks didn't make his uncomfortableness whither at all, he actually felt his chest tighten. But the truth was that he didn't care. And when did Uncle Alphard get there anyway?

"You came?" he asked, confused.

"Your father asked me to. United family front against battles, etc, etc," Alphard said. He looked over his nephew's shoulder at Luna and smiled. "And you look like a wonderful view, as always, of course, Miss Lupin. How do you do?"

She smiled, thanking him, but not answering much more as she tried not to blush too much under his watchful eye.

Regulus, still at a loss for words, turned to Luna as another song started playing. A Danse Libre. It was a free one to miss.

"Perhaps some... champagne, yes?" Luna finally choked out.

Alphard opened her a grateful, genuine smile.

"Why! What a wonderful idea! Come along, you two," he said, glancing around the room. "Your chaperone will be glad to accompany you two outside for some fresh air, perhaps I shall accompany her as well. Lady Potter has always been a wonderful conversationalist and, unfortunately, Orion is far too busy with Lord Potter to care for family unity at the moment. Easily entertained when working, your father is, I fear, Regulus."

Regulus nodded, not wanting to say anything out loud.

He liked the idea of going outside with Luna for a few minutes, even if Euphemia came along with them.

He shook his head lightly from one side to the other.

Merlin's Beard, he had even drunk anything! He felt completely intoxicated, how foolish of him to behave so openly towards his partner in a public space. Her reputation could've been put to the test had Uncle Alphard not come to save them from themselves and their hormones, as if they were stupid animals.

Alphard led them back to a table, where Euphemia, Hope and Walburga was standing nearby.

"Hello," Regulus manged to greet politely.

Walburga glared. Regulus looked down.

Hope watched her daughter sit at a chair, saying nothing when she watched a waiter-boy walking by with champagne flutes. Usually she would click her tongue at the sight of her getting alcohol (she was never an avid drinker herself, after all), but didn't make a comment when Alphard took three flutes.

"There you go, Miss Lupin," he said, smiling. "Regulus, drink up as well. You look flushed."

"I was dancing," Regulus dismissed, looking the other way.

He crossed his legs, sitting down comfortably and reclining lightly against the chair.

"You sure were focused on dancing," Walburga said, her tone sharp, but still sickly (falsely) sweet. "You know, who else really likes dancing? Young Mister Askel right here. Askel Hansen is the oldest son to Mister Elias Hansen, your father's good colleague, Regulus."

Regulus looked at the young man, barely an adult, beside his mother.

He was certainly Elias' son. Tall, blonde and absolutely dull.

"Mister Hansen," he greeted, raising from his seat.

Askel offered him his hand and they shook it politely as he greeted.

"You are one lucky man, Mister Black. Your partner is mesmerising on the dancefloor. Quite the spectacle," Askel said.

Regulus didn't like his voice, nor his accent. Nor the way his eyes flickered to Luna when he said so.

"We dance well together," Regulus answered. "I'm a very lucky man, Mister Hansen. And such luckiness does not come without its dangers."

"Other lucky men are attempting to steal her away?" Askel asked in a joking tone.

"Steal her? They'd have to break my hands for that. I hold on far too tightly for anyone to take her away without her consent," he said, forcing a smile. "I can barely be parted from her after a dance, let alone for longer than that."

"Then asking her hand to be on mine on the next dance is undoubtedly a refusal," Askel guessed.

Unsure if her opinion was being asked, Luna just stared at the two boys staring down at one another and smiled, glancing at her own mother for help. In vain, of course, because Hope looked completely appalled by what she was watching, jaw ajar and eyes widening slowly.

"Now, now. No need to be so possessive," Alphard said, trying to get the mood back to its lightness. "But I fear it is a refusal, my dear Mister Hansen, for I'm dancing the last dance of the night with Miss Lupin – after she rests, of course. Anna's Waltz is a difficult dance, after all."

"A very... intense one, indeed," Askel finally admitted, finding the correct word for it.

Walburga glared at Regulus over Askel's shoulder again before turning her glare at her older brother.

"How come you are dancing tonight, brother? You hate dancing!" she said, forcing a smile.

Alphard gave her a disappointed stare.

"How dare you say such a thing, Bria. I'm an avid lover of dance, I just fear I don't interesting enough partners in our soirées," he said. He winked playfully at Luna. "Perhaps I have found a reprieve from boring conversation in Miss Lupin's mind."

Luna was far too buys focusing in taking air in and out of her lungs without much noise, calming her speeding heart and dizzy disposition as quickly as she could.

"Mister Hansen is going out of the country soon enough. Your interests in Miss Lupin's mind can be acclaimed another day, I'm certain, for you see her more than he does," Walburga said.

"Miss Lupin seems tired, don't you think so, Lady Black?" Euphemia said.

Luna looked up at her, surprised. She had forgotten the woman's presence in her strong silence, but the older woman didn't look away from her for a single moment – her eyebrows were lower in her face, not in disapproval for whatever it was her atrocious behaviour that night, but in clear concern.

"And rather pale," Alphard added, frowning genuinely. "Perhaps our dance should be put off to another night, Miss Lupin."

Luna forced a nod.

Her stomach was rolling around withing her, and she didn't want to think about it. Quietly, she sipped her champagne, allowing the fresh liquid to sooth her parched throat.

Walburga turned to look at Luna, ready to reprehend the girl silently with her eyes, but she saw was an actual pale girl, reclining against her seat with lost and empty eyes as quick breathing. She dismissed Askel Hansen just as quickly as she had summoned his presence at the end of the waltz.

"Perhaps the balcony should soothe her needs," Alphard offered.

Without Askel there, Hope was more comfortable.

"Who are you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at the man that clearly knew her daughter.

Regulus looked between his uncle and Hope.

"This is my uncle, Mister Alphard Black, Madame Jensen. This is Luna's mother –"

"Regulus!"

"Miss Lupin's mother, Madame Hope Jensen," he corrected, trying not to roll his eyes at his mother's words. "Now, can we – please – take her somewhere where she can breathe without cigarette smoke?"

"That forceful tone –" started Walburga.

"Mother, please!" he said, turning to her with an exasperated look.

Hope, feeling like she was intruding on a mother scolding a child, ignored the two of them and quickly leaned towards her daughter, taking the champagned flute out of her hands and putting it on the table. It didn't take her any more than a second or two to raise the girl from her seat and, with surprisingly quick support from Alphard, take the girl to the open balcony doors and slip out of the party with her.

Luna was struggling a bit to breathe once they were out of the public sight.

Euphemia followed soon, something in her hands.

"Water, Luna," she announced.

Grateful, Luna turned to her and took the cup with shaky hands.

Alphard took several steps back, standing on the lit side of the balcony, allowing the half-privacy of the penumbra to comfort the girl when she coughed at the feeling of water going down her throat.

"I got overexcited, I suppose," Luna tried to joke.

"We saw. We watched," Euphemia said, kindly, but she clearly had opinions on it. "Luna, that was... a lot."

"It's hard to breathe," she whispered.

Alphard held back a smile and turned his back on the women, watching as his sister scolded Regulus with a hand on his shoulder and a dangerous smile on her lips, as if they were talking of great happiness passed. He frowned when Regulus glared at his mother, not looking down or looking abashed by her words – Regulus had never looked so freely like his mother before, even from far away.

"You said he was shy," Hope said to her daughter bitterly, leaning towards her and fanning her face and neck for her.

Alphard looked over his shoulder.

"Regulus? Oh, yes, my nephew is quite the shy boy. Always was," he said, getting into the conversation. Hope looked at the man, surprised at his input. "That bold side of him is completely Miss Luna Lupin's presence over him."

"Are you blaming my daughter for –"

"I'm commending your daughter on her intoxicating presence over him," he corrected her before he could be accused.

Euphemia sighed.

"Your sister is quite the work tonight, Mister Black," the woman said.

Alphard chuckled.

"Tell me about it. She's been in a terrible mood for weeks," he complained. "And here she comes!"

Walburga strolled out of the ballroom and into the balcony with her child by her side, but she held onto his arm tightly (too tightly, it must be hurting even through the layers of clothes), refusing to allow him to go to his girlfriend.

"Are you alright?" Regulus asked, from where he stood. "Do you have your potions with you?"

"It's just the heat," she dismissed.

Regulus didn't believe her for a second.

"Is your heart –"

"I don't have a fever, I promise. I just feel a bit weak. I'll be fine with some air and water, don't worry," Luna said, looking at him and rolling her head back, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of a passing breeze. "I'm already feeling better."

Alphard chuckled at Regulus' flushed cheeks.

"There, there, lover-boy," he said, reaching for his nephew's shoulders and squeezing them. Walburga let go of him when Alphard pulled him closer to himself, but she did watch her brother carefully, trying to associate his facial expression with any danger at all, but relaxed when Alphard threw his arm over Regulus' shoulders. "Perhaps go slower with your girlfriend on the waltzes, alright?"

"Next time –"

"No. I'm fine!" Luna said, turning to look at Regulus again. "I'm fine, really. I loved dancing with you."

Alphard was quite impressed with her courage.

"Next ball, I shall be more careful to tend to your needs," he promised, tone gentle.

Deep inside, Alphard cringed at the double meaning, knowing far too well that everybody but Regulus seemed to have caught on with it, even if he had said it in such a light and genuine tone.

Luna's flushed cheeks made her look away again.

"I'm certain we'll do a better job next time," she said.

Euphemia looked between the two teenagers.

"I'll get us all more champagne now that Miss Lupin's better," she announced. "Now, Lady Black, why don't we leave Madame Jensen and Mister Black chaperoning them as we talk, yes? I've been thinking of hosting a wonderful soirée once we have another school break for the children."

Walburga didn't want to go, but she did, quite interested in whatever it was that Euphemia wanted to talk without the children listening in.

Alphard was quick to act, calling Hope into conversation in the lit part of the balcony and standing facing the two teenagers, carefully managing to keep Hope's back towards the awkward couple.

As soon as Hope wasn't staring at them, Luna took Regulus by the robes and pulled him into a kiss with a loud sigh.

Hope cringed, but didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered to him as soon as he pulled back, stumbling blindly to put some distance between them.

Regulus looked at his uncle, who was looking at the night sky and talking of paintings as if he had not watched the kiss (a chaste one, in comparison to what they would've done had they been alone).

"There's nothing for you to apologise, Luna. It was a dance, and I crossed the line," he said, shaking his head a bit. His voice was so whispered that she could barely listen to him. "I'm in love with you and I got far too involved in the dance. You were so close, and I was so – Good Merlin, Luna. How can you look and feel so good?"

Luna glanced to the side, making sure nobody was listening.

There was space between them, but they both felt the heat between them

"I'm in love with you," she whispered back.

"How am I to sleep tonight?" he said. "How am I to part from you?" He leaned forward, tempted into another kiss, but pulled back once more. "No..." it was barely a moan out of his throat, and his wish to hold back shook.

Alphard cleared his throat loudly.

"Reg!" he warned in a low enough voice.

Hope turned to look at the couple.

Regulus took another step back, breath quickened. He forced his hands behind his back, pressing his lips together and taking a deep, deliberately slow breath at the moment Euphemia and Walburga came back with a waiter following with a tray of champagne flutes. Luna looked perfectly healthy again, leaning against the mahogany balcony and breathing through her desire.

"Alright, children – drink up. Soon enough it's time to go home," Euphemia warned.

With an exchanged look between Luna and Euphemia, the older woman giggled to herself under her breath.

WARNINGS:

Hope understanding Luna's and Remus' world now is becoming a firmer belief, and I'm so proud of her of adapting and understanding that sometimes silence is safer not only for her, but all the others around them.

Euphemia watching everything and almost writing down every observation that she made also made me giggle a bit. The truth is that she's been watching Walburga struggling through the night and is LOVING it very much.

Fleatmont and  Orion are so done and just want to do the work and go home, but they love their wives too much to do anything else other than what they asked them to. And that includes dragging their children along.

Also, the boys will have their moment, don't worry. Hold on tight for that one, alright? Sorry. It just didn't fit into the chapter, unfortunately, so please be understanding of this.