CHAPTER TWO
✧
-: seventh year :-

── REQUISITE PROMISES

. . .

THE FEAST WAS ADEQUATE. Nothing special; nothing simple. It was plain; usual, like any other meal. If it had the grandeur that the usual welcome-back banquet maintained, neither Celia nor Regulus noticed it. Instead, they spent their time with their knees brushing and shoulders turned in towards each other, completely unaware of their four closest friends sitting together only a few feet away, glares set on the majority of their expressions.

Glares that they didn't care about, or bother to do anything in reply to. Confrontations were a thing of the past when their focuses were on whether or not the green cardigan they substituted their uniform-assigned jumper for looked stupid, or whether so-and-so had kissed so-and-so at the last Quidditch celebration party - and wasn't so-and-so dating her, and didn't they break up over the summer? When the drama and constant conversation didn't seem to lull nor interest them in the slightest, their attentions focused on one another without much care to whoever else may be speaking.

Besides, between Celia and Regulus there could easily be the culmination of many more fascinating topics to capture their attention as everyone else pretended that nothing serious was happening in the world and listened to the Welcome Back speech, or introduced the new teachers - Frederick Vallant for Defense Against the Dark (it seemed to only be his position as an old, former Ministry worker that provoked any interest as he stood up to the spattering of applause; most knew too well than become attached, given the lack of teacher for the subject by the time the year came to an end), Electra Whitefern for Divination (a subject not many really believed in and instead took merely for an easy pass) and, which interested Celia and Regulus far more than much else that had been discussed, the new Ancient Runes teacher, a woman named Tanith Sykes. 

Professor Sykes appeared to be far younger than the rest of the faculty although her blazing red hair seemed to be streaked with grey - no, silver. She wore a single eyeglass; a monocle chain clipped to the breast pocket of her blazer of green and had a single scar crossing from her chin up her cheek, stretching into her hairline. It wasn't for the contradicting appearance that pulled Regulus and Celia's interest to her though; Celia had studied Ancient Runes since third year and, now that Dumbledore had decided that Binns was most certainly not suitable to teach any extra subjects, Sykes would also be leading the Ancient History class the friends shared. 

It all seemed strikingly normal. As though they weren't attending a boarding school as though their lives on the outside was spiked with fear of Daily Prophet articles detailing the latest disaster at the hands of Voldemort. Hogwarts was protected by numerous spells constantly strengthened by the power of such magic users within its hallowed halls and so, they didn't need to worry of it anymore. 

Celia never quite believed it had ever worried her. Regulus neither - nor many of their friends or considerably selective house. They didn't need to; relatives and associates ensured them of that, doing their part to aid the Dark Lord without the disruption of much else. They never quite felt the need to listen as Dumbledore assured them of safety within the castle walls and as such, they had hardly been listening as the feast came to an end. 

Her name came up in conversation; eyes averted to the small edge of the table where Regulus and Celia had curled up to each other. It seemed they were speaking of the Head Girl and Boy; Kai Fowler was stood up at the other end of the Hufflepuff table and slowly, the blonde at the Slytherin side rose to her feet. Regulus's hand, which had been quite naturally resting on her knee, slipped off.

 "Thank you for joining us, Miss Greengrass." Dumbledore's voice rang out across the hall, humorous in tone. "As I was saying, for those who have just been Sorted or have not had the pleasure of encountering either Miss Celia Greengrass or Mr Kai Fowler across the school, I am most pleased to inform you that they are the Head Girl and Boy for this coming year. I trust that they have much to do in order to improve the school and your experience here, and I can ensure you that should anyone of you come across a problem, they will be able to help - as the pair are chosen not only on academic merit alone but presences within the school." 

Kai and Celia nodded, similar amiable smiles across their countenances as they surveyed the mass of pupils in front of them. "On that note," Dumbledore continued, "Prefects, I am sure you are aware of what duties you have been given on this fine evening, and before I bore you all into a food-induced sleep, I bid you good night." 

Everyone seemed to move at once, surging towards the great oak doors that separated the busy from the empty, signalled the beginning and ultimately, a crush of people that Celia deemed something horrific to be caught up within. Regulus, by proxy, agreed. 

And so they hung back slightly as the majority of students pushed to make it back to their respective common rooms first, gaggles of first years hovering nervously by the fifth-year prefects, who very well might have been guiding a herd of Abraxan to landing they looked that panicked about collecting them all. When the river seemed to thin and settle, its grey murkiness clearing, Regulus and Celia decided it best for them to set off. 

"I don't quite know how I shall manage sharing with Rosier and Barty this year." Regulus was by her shoulder as they departed the Great Hall, passing remaining students as they headed towards the staircase down to the Slytherin dungeons. The doors opened as though they knew exactly who was before them - and it was hardly doubted the magic that remained core to the school could recognise many - and the pair stepped down onto the winding, murky spiral stairs, lit by lamps of varying green and silver flame.

"You do not worry of Caius?" Celia asked. 

"Well he is your favourite, is he not?" 

"After Yemaya, oui." She folded her arms over her stomach, chin pointed as dark hair swung neatly behind her with each step she took down. "But that doesn't mean he has to be yours. I daresay if Evan and Barty find out you are playing favourites things might end so curiously."

"I daresay if Evan and Barty find out I hold Caius in higher regard they would do nothing but attempt to convince me otherwise." His pretty, doe-like features were hardened with the reality; his name meant most of them all, and it was that which was valued above all else about him. "I do not play favourites, Celia, however, I believe them to be... upset with us."

"Whatever for?" She asked, eyes similarly wide before they hardened and the wand slotted into the pocket of her robes emerged, a crack of green light causing a whoosh of air and yelps from two students she had set her sights on. "Is it not yet known to either of you that on the first night you are to remain in your respective common rooms?" Celia didn't blink as she said it, and the two students she had caught in the most... compromising position nodded hastily and separated, the boy dashing upwards and slipping past Regulus and the girl heading down the stairs at an alarming rate. "Where was I?" She glanced towards him, moments later.

"I believe our friends to be upset." Regulus reiterated. "For what I cannot tell you, but they didn't look quite so pleased with the feast." 

"Ah." Celia nodded, although she didn't quite understand. "Well, don't bother yourself panicking. You can stay with me tonight if you please."

They emerged at the bottom of the staircase, an empty hallway in the dungeons flickering in the pale light. Despite the lack of direction, they headed forward, and Regulus grinned at the reality of her words. His arm slung over her shoulders quite easily, pulling her closer. 

"I forgot about your room." He hummed, pressing a kiss to her forehead as his token of gratitude. "A Slytherin Head Girl must only be treated like the best."

"And is that an established belief of the house, or is that reserved merely for you?" She smiled up at him, a slender curve of an expression. 

"I believe others may share my beliefs... Dumbledore does tend to have his preferences." Regulus replied as they came to a stop at a blank canvas of wall, the password to the common room not yet spoke, saving them in the emptiness of the corridor. "However I believe myself to be most proud of you." 

"Of course you are." Celia held her chin high, hiding the pleased emotion that sat there. Nothing seemed worth much more to her than his opinion. "Pure-blood." She spoke and watched as the etchings of stone disappeared to reveal a passageway. "It must be kept simple for the first years." She added as an explanation. "And for the half-wit fifth years who will hardly pass their O.W.L.s."

"Speaking of." Regulus hummed the warning in her ear as they emerged into the all-too-familiar common room, and two figures sprung to their feet from a small group formed by the lit fire. "Alecto, Amycus." He nodded politely. "Enjoy your summer?" 

"We went hunting in Transylvania," Alecto replied, her expression mirroring the cold seriousness of Celia, although the look in her eyes once the Black displayed even the slightest edge of attention to her said something different. "Caught quite the collection to add to the family vault. You're most welcome to visit my room and observe." 

"I believe I shall have to decline on his behalf." Celia blinked, evidently disgusted. "Is there something you need, Carrows? I believe I shall need one last good night of sleep before settling into my position tomorrow." 

"I don't suppose there is." Alecto jumped to reply before her brother could. "Enjoy your evening, Regulus." She called after them, as they made haste towards the dorms. 

"They are most shameless." Regulus hummed. "Ah, well, Alecto is. Amycus doesn't seem to speak these days." 

Celia said nothing, her disliking all too well known and need not expanding on as she pushed to reach the hallway of seventh-year dorms, on the end of which sat her sole room for the year, granted to her through Dumbledore's choice to name her as Head Girl. It would only open through the touch of her wand, which was most useful in the grand scheme of things, particularly as she was most unable to trust anyone in troubling times. 

The door they came to was made of dark ebony wood that held a blank, silver nameplate. To the right, in a small nook, sat a bookcase, chair and what looked to be a Flutterby bush - the most appropriate plants to have been chosen, given its double-natured ways. Regulus stood by, curiously watching as she placed the tip of her wand by the door handle and her name appeared, engraved, upon the plate. 

She pushed the door open once the words shone green and entered, Regulus following behind without the need to be invited and silently, they observed. The room was large - far too large for one person considering the expectation of four to share a room a touch smaller - yet seemed to hold a regal and cosy atmosphere to it. 

Bookcases lined a small corner by which a desk was set up, a door in the wall hinting to her bathroom and a fireplace opposite, which was already crackling merrily. The bed sat central to the back wall, which was also where a large gothic window hung above it, the murky water of the Black Lake only causing it to appear dimmer. The bed - her bed - was below it, an ornate ebony headboard with a basilisk carved into the wood was pushed back with plush pillows and duvets pulled over it, an emerald and silver embroidered throw cast over the end. 

In front of the footboard was an ottoman, and to the right of her bedside table seemed to be a wardrobe and a dressing table, complete with a mirror and clawed feet. Afront of the fire was a pair of armchairs and over the cold stone floors sat a number of rugs.

Regulus waited for her reaction, watching as the corner of her lips turned up in a smirk and she shed herself of her robes, wearing only her uniform as she abandoned them atop of the ottoman and collapsed onto the mattress of her bed. 

"I do believe I feel right at home." She announced.

✧

Regulus had retrieved all that he had needed from his dorm and retreated back to the haven that was Celia's new dorm, separated from all the noise and busyness that was the return of the Slytherin students. Evan and Barty, Caius quiet and reserved since the incident on the train, had taken it upon themselves to decipher his actions as proof of something more going on between the two best friends, jeering and nudging his shoulder as he collected his necessary items. 

"Here's to hoping you get some sleep tonight, Black." Evan crowed after him, Regulus allowing himself a grin and the reaching back of his arm to flip off one of his closest friends before the expression faded and he continued along the corridor to where he had propped the door to her room open (knowing no one would dare pass inside) and slipped back into the lonely dorm, glad to be there.

Celia was smoking when he got back, laid across the plush, silk-covered pillows at the head of her bed. There was a book in her hands, something of fiction to do with Ancient Greek - an epic of sorts - and a small, emerald ashtray in the space to the right of her. There was a bruise visible beneath the stretch of her tights, right by her knee, as Regulus relieved himself of carrying his items he noticed it but said nothing as he sat beside her, back pressed to her shoulder.

He read over her shoulder for a moment, chin balanced on the grey wool of her jumper. She said nothing, hand reaching behind her to offer him a drag and remained in place as he leaned forward to do so without taking it from her. 

Regulus sat back, exhaling slowly. "My mother wants me to take the mark by Christmas." He informed her. "Says it is of the highest honour that I was chosen and that it simply makes sense for me to take it sooner rather than later. After Sirius..."

The book was closed with a flick of her hand, marking the page with a ribbon. Sirius's name - Celia's own sister's name - was almost taboo, a painful topic neither quite could bring themselves to discuss when alone, an ache in their hearts that they wouldn't admit to when others brought them up. 

"After Sirius," Celia repeated, the distaste for the older brother mirroring her upset with her sister. "...What?"

"She thinks we have to... appease the Lord for his mistakes." Regulus swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "That it is our fault that he left, that he didn't choose to do it." 

"If... if anyone is at fault, it's her." Celia declared, stubbing out the very last of the cigarette into the ashtray, a short focus on it ensuring her magic made it land safely on her dressing table. She shifted on the bed, turned to face him, and the book fell to the floor with a crash. Their noses brushed as they rested upon the pillows.

Their eyes met and nothing needed to be said, pure understanding shining through them. "Don't." Regulus shook his head all of a sudden, pushing his face into her neck. "Don't." He repeated, although his words were muffled.

"Don't what?" Celia didn't even flinch, her hand reaching to curl around the hair at the bottom of his neck. 

He didn't say anything then, eyelashes tickling her neck as they fluttered closed and he relaxed against her, letting the tension that had grown over the summer dissolve from him. Something had changed between them in the time apart, something that allowed boundaries to collapse and comfort to become a necessity, a closeness of just needing to feel. She could feel his breath on her neck, a finger pulled beneath the chain of her necklace.

Celia had known Regulus for many years of her life. And never, never had she seen him so tired. It was evident to her, then, that he had been holding himself together for much of the day, for much of his life and now, alone with her, he could finally let it go. His hand slipped below her jumper, sitting in the small of her back, squished between her and the pillow. 

"Don't take the mark." He murmured into her neck, finally having an ending to his words. "Don't, please. I can't bear to think of you taking it. Of you being... trapped by it."

Her eyes fixated on the pattern of the stone walls opposite her. They had talked of it before, of following what was expected of them, as pure-bloods, as members of families who supported the Dark Lord implicitly. Never, though, had he asked her not to take the mark, to remain outside of the team of followers who remained vigilant and active to Voldemort's every beck and call. He had never asked her of something like something so... tendentious. Celia hardly knew how to reply; it was no secret their families hardly advocated against familial obligation, and should she refuse once asked they could oh-so easily force her hand. 

"...Someone has to, now that she's gone," Celia said, eventually, and from the way Regulus's hand, warm against the curve of her back tightened, she knew it was the wrong answer. 

He sat up and pushed himself up onto his elbows. "What?" There was a panic in his eyes, a certain horror to it. "No - Celia - you must promise me that... that you won't take it. You cannot take it - I cannot bear for you to take it." His eyes met hers, wild in the face of adversity. 

"I won't." She promised, yet the tension didn't leave his body until she forced it, the hand curled around the back of his neck easing him back down to comfort. "It's hard to promise, though, considering the circumstances." 

Regulus nodded, nose pressed into her skin, the familiar scent of vanilla and strawberries enveloping him in a calm that her words couldn't. Something inside of him truly wobbled precariously on the edge at the threat of it, something like the reality of the war because nobody else was talking about it and all he wanted to do was protect her from it. With Sirius gone, with him being in his final year, he could truly care about nothing, no one else. Just her, just Celia.

His mother was crazy, and his father almost just as so. His brother was entirely disconnected, his cousins going insane, and his entire family was connected to the Dark Lord. And then there was Celia. He himself became deranged at the thought of losing her too, the thought of there being anything any more important to him than she was. And he did, he sounded like a lunatic, and perhaps it was the exhaustion of his summer, or not seeing her for weeks, but his life had gone to shit and she was what remained, she would always be what remained. 

"I won't take it," Celia promised him, her fingers curling around the back of his neck like a half-collar, claiming him as her's just as he wanted - no, needed, her too. "I can hardly bear the thought of it either. Do not worry, Regulus." 

"I won't if you tell me not to." He was prepared to do anything for her, to truly devote his every energy and moment to appease her wishes, but Regulus assumed his momentary lapse in all care outside of this moment was thinking for him. He hadn't felt just as relaxed as he did then since the last time he saw her. "I trust your every word." 

Everything had changed, and they knew that now, recognised it implicitly. They knew, truly, even in the presence of those they called friends, the only people who truly mattered were each other. No one's word meant more to them than each other's, no one else existed that they would rather be around. 

"And I, yours," Celia replied, feeling her own heartbeat ring in her ears within the silence trapped within the dorm room. "I... It feels different this year." She spoke only her thoughts, knowing that should anyone understand them it would be him. Besides, she had been granted the turn in bringing them up, and she could no longer avoid it. "They moved out years ago but now they feel really gone."

Regulus knew of who she was talking of in an instant. "I suppose it's because we have no way of seeing them." He murmured. "Before we could merely walk the hallways and run into them and their maddening friends. At home, too."

Celia's eyes darkened at the mention. "Home was a nightmare." She proclaimed, adjusting her position so as to reach into his pocket and retrieve the half-finished deck of cigarettes kept there. He smiled, even if it appeared forced, at her actions, and lit it for her, taking a drag from it between her fingers before she took it for herself.

"Of course." He agreed, as though they ever had any chance of it being something other than that. "I believe they realised it as well, that now he isn't at Hogwarts, now that they have no knowledge of their whereabouts..."

"Now that they know Sirius has all of Alphard's money." She inputted, as it was sure to be a contributing factor to it - before when Sirius only had a little of his own savings he had managed to maintain a life whilst living alongside the Potters - as now he was free to do as he please. 

"Now.. they have nothing," Regulus announced, resigned to the fact in the face of forced acceptance. "So we have nothing. Not them either."

"No?"

"As much as they prefer us to hold the weight of family values on our shoulders..." He trailed off, dark hair creasing as he leaned back to look up at her, attempting to gauge some kind of reaction to his words, an attempt to find out whether the feeling was shared. Celia watched him, with those dark eyes, and he felt entirely compelled to reply. "I'm not particularly focused on withholding them." 

"You aren't?" She looked more and more interested by the minute, smile growing wider as she sat up, tapping the filter with her index and watching as the ash fell down below. Her free hand reached for his hair, brushing through the curls. "Really?"

"I have no intention in taking their places in our parents' expectations." He confirmed, their faces so close his breath warmed her cheek. 

She abandoned the cigarette, smoke trailing from the ashtray. Her hands enveloped his cheeks, thumbs drifting over his eyelids, resting by his temples.  "Reg." She breathed out. He nodded, ready to hear anything she had to say. He would agree with anything, listen to anything, do anything for her. "I want to do what we're supposed to do as the second-born children, Reg." She told him. "I want to... have fun - lose my mind, go absolutely fucking crazy if I have to. I don't want to become my parents. I don't."

His eyes opened. "I've been going crazy since I was about five." Regulus admitted, tone quiet and low. He had never told anyone before about the constant storm in his head, the constant tornado of conflicting feelings and impulses to do everything but what he was expected to. And now here she was, in perfect agreement... perfect." 

"Good." He smiled, leaning back and kissing her knuckles in turn. "Then we go crazy together."

. . .

── REQUISITE PROMISES