Chloe Wilkes has crossed the Rubicon. (nopanacea) wrote in find_horcruxes, @ 2010-05-27 00:22:00 |
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Chloe was by no means convinced that meeting Regulus was not unwise at best and outright dangerous at worst, but safety was not her first priority on this particularly night. Oh, she wasn't about to throw all caution to the winds. After collecting her cloak - she would not be going outside, of course, but it was habit - she apparated first to St. Ives. If Olivia noticed her sister's absence, she would almost certainly inquire of the family portraits and she would not be at all surprised to learn that Chloe had retreated home to Cornwall. The portraits were the reason Chloe had been wary of seeing Regulus here, but they did have their uses. She had intended to go straight to the kitchen - one of the few rooms free of paintings as Elmira Wilkes had not believed in wasting works of art in an area where they would only be seen by house elves - and floo to the address Regulus had given her. On a whim, however, she stopped in her bedroom (which, with Lally in London, was not maintained with such excessive diligence) and collected a book and a small black box. After informing Wamba that she wished to be alone, she returned downstairs and headed for the kitchen fireplace. It was foolish, she thought grabbing a pinch of floo powder from its container. In every possible way it was - Before she could back out entirely, Chloe tossed the powder into the grate, spoke the address - right back in Kensington, ironically - and stepped into the flames. Regulus rarely paced; he found it a lowly habit and it did nothing to keep his mind steady. Flying, perhaps, might have distracted him well-enough to keep from wearing out the carpet on his late father's Oriental rug, but there was neither time nor space. Chloe was likely already on her way. And that was of course half the reason that he was in a mild state of turmoil. It had been a natural inclination while he had been engaged to Celeste to feel a jolt of creeping guilt whenever he had written to Chloe. It had not been Celeste's fault, after all, that she had been entered into this arrangement, unknowing that her fiance had had a somewhat-complicated friendship with an old schoolfriend. Even now that he was unattached (despite a likely pending death sentence by Celeste's brothers), he felt that old pang of keeping a filthy secret. It wasn't a feeling he enjoyed, even if at present it was a pang that was more akin to the pain of a phantom limb rather than true guilt. He and Chloe were old hands at being covert - but that didn't mean that he had grown to like secrecy. His father's old apartment had been purchased to allow for Orion Black's various dalliances with mistresses. It was small but ornately decorated. Disliking the haunted, closed-in feeling that the windowless flat had given him, Regulus had in recent months gotten rid of belongings that spoke too loudly of its previous owner, and replaced it with his own possessions. A massive antique map of the world had been be-spelled over the plain dark wooden paneling on one wall. A bookshelf held everything from wizarding philosophers to the latest Superman comic (a habit that Regulus had yet to break). And while he'd not been able to get too much light in the place, the artificial light spells had been enough to brighten up the decor to the point where he didn't have to squint to read. He was turning to pace just a little bit more when he heard the floo cough, and there appeared Chloe in a puff of ash. Regulus was struck uncharacteristically silent at the thought that he had not seen her face-to-face in nearly six months. She looked shorter to him, but perhaps he was taller, or his memory was faulty. Though he was fairly sure that his expression mirrored hers - anxious, worried, and just a little bit desperate. The nervousness that had just begun to take over as she stepped into the floo hit Chloe full force when she stepped out at the other end and came face to face with Regulus. The habit of shunning one another, even at public functions where they might reasonably meet, had become ingrained over the past - how many months? - and even that dark hour in December had been spent avoiding each other's gaze. Breaking that habit to look him in the eye took a brand of courage all its own. You haven't changed, was her first thought. He didn't look different to Chloe, however she might appear to him. She felt as though he ought to. They'd lived a lifetime in the past half a year; surely, it ought to show in more than just the odd line about the eyes. There was something breathtakingly familiar about the way the shadows touched him. Even the worry on his face was reassuring in its way. There had been a nagging fear Chloe had tried not to acknowledge that he would have changed out of all recognition, that his engagement, the death of his father, his work for Auror Bones would have put him so far beyond her scope that he would have no more need of her. It was a relief that appearances, at least, were still the same. She clutched her belongings to her chest - she'd meant to leave that book in the kitchen at St. Ives, but never mind that now - and blessed the feeling of the corner of the box digging into her ribs as a reminder that this was not a dream. "Hello," she said. And if her voice was hoarse, it was only the remnant of ash lingering in the air that caused it. "Hello," he repeated, and the greeting sounded tentative in the quiet flat. He suddenly wished that he'd put on music to have as background noise, so that he could hear something other than the rustling of fabric, of their soft breathing, of ash settling in the fireplace. He started to say something, and abruptly lost the start of it. Sometimes their combined history felt exclusive, as with an inside joke, but sometimes it was heavy, too. Never too heavy. But one false move, Regulus felt, and maybe something might fall and break. "It's so very good seeing you again," he said, and even if the words were slightly more inflected with politeness than usual, they were heartfelt. Regulus felt dazed and slow; he realized, then, that he had not truly expected her to come. "Did you mislead your sister?" The words were good to hear, formal or not. Chloe smiled tremulously. "And you," she said. I missed you, had been easier to write than it was to say, but she meant that as well. The smile faded as she considered his question. Deceiving Olivia was a matter of course these days, the layers of truth and falsehood folding back on each other to the point that Chloe was not always certain where they began and ended anymore. They had always had secrets, but these were different, and Chloe took no pleasure in them. "She will believe me in St. Ives." "Good," Regulus said, and then corrected himself. "Not... good, I mean, but..." Olivia would not approve, and as much as he'd put Chloe through the last few months, he didn't wish to create additional friction between the Wilkes sisters. He'd noticed the distancing between himself and Olivia - necessary, he supposed, considering her friendship with his ex-fiancé - but he did not actively want to seek Olivia's ill opinion, nor add to Chloe's headaches. "C'mon in," he said, gesturing to the small flat. "Want some tea? I feel obligated to offer you some, you know, regardless of the fact that..." he exhaled. "...everything's changed and everything's the same, but at least the offer of tea is constant." He smiled, then. His first, and just a little, but at least she was just as lost as he. She found it difficult not to smile when he was. "There is something to be said for constancy." And tea might help the dryness in her mouth. Chloe glanced around. She did not have Olivia's eye for decor, nor Meredith's, but she could see the effect of a different hand here than had been responsible for decorating Grimmauld Place. It was more comfortable, less forbidding, although no less expensively furnished. "It suits you," she said, a bit shyly. The flat was not as light nor as spacious as she thought quite right for him, but it was worlds better than Number 12. He glanced around, not as interested in their surroundings as she, but he had always been a person to enjoy approval. "Really?" he inquired, trying to see what she had perceived in the dark little flat. "It'll do. It was Father's; I only found the deed a few weeks after he... after the funeral," he self-corrected. "I thought it pertinent that I not be easily located at Grimmauld. Even Mother doesn't know of this place." The kitchen was little more than a small room past a brief hallway, but that suited Regulus fine. Raised by an overly-attentive house elf, Regulus had never learned to do more than make tea, after all. He set the kettle to the side with a heating charm, and leaned against the counter, trying not to be obvious in the way he was looking at her. It was strange - they'd not seen one another in so long and there was so much that might be said, but there was a danger in that as well. Regulus had grown accustomed to second-guessing his words, and he didn't like it. Finally, he took a breath and spoke. "There's a view from the top of the roof. We should go up there, with our tea." Chloe's comment had been partially for the sake of holding off the silence. Like Regulus, she felt that there ought to be more to say. Merlin knew they had enough to catch up on. But the first subjects that came to mind - the proclamation from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Olivia, Celeste - she doubted either of them wished to discuss, and it was somehow, not so easy to escape into the fanciful as it had once been. She did find the room fitting, however, at least what she could see of it. The map seemed particularly appropriate, and while the Muggle comics would have been hidden well out of sight elsewhere, she could still imagine them in his bedroom at Grimmauld. That was another place Olivia would be horrified to know she had seen, although they'd been far more innocent in their school days. Had those days really be only a year ago? She followed Regulus to the kitchen, listening to his explanation more for the sound of his voice than the content. It was good to hear any words at all. That he had such a safe haven was a relief, whatever its origin. The explanation did register after a moment, and Chloe was grateful the flat was not better-lit. She could put two and two together, and she suspected she was blushing at least a bit. While she was not shocked - It was, after all, common enough. Her own father had, as Olivia delicately put it, 'had his fault' - she was sufficiently uncomfortable to find the prospect of the roof and the fresh night air even more appealing than they would already have been. "I would like that," she said. "You would like it," Regulus agreed, and for a moment he could almost pretend that they were just hanging out at Grimmauld, catching up in the weeks prior to Hogwarts reconvening. They'd always spent an inordinate amount of time together for summer hols. "It's... well. You'll see." Finishing up the tea, he presented her mug to her, and took his own, stirring milk into the liquid. He took a precursory sip before opening up the small door leading to the roof, taking each step carefully so that he wouldn't slosh his drink around and burn himself. The stairs were steep and dusty and dark and clearly not intended for everyday use, but it hadn't ever stopped him from venturing skyward. The roof itself was nothing special, either, but the view opened straight up to the stars. London was a polluted city at best, but the lights of the city seemed warm somehow. Regulus had found them reassuring, having been reminded of flying when he was up here. How the one flight of stairs had somehow taken them from the first floor to the seventh was one of the magical quirks of the buildings. Taking a long, cool breath, Regulus felt more like himself. "It's still too hazy to have a proper telescope," he said, "but it's nice enough." "It's wonderful." Chloe was hardly the one to quibble with anyone else's penchant for understatement, but 'nice enough' did not seem sufficient. It was better out here. Even in London, the night air and the glow of the city lights managed to draw out a bit of the tension that had become second nature. Certainly she'd been places where the air was clearer and the stars sharper, but she'd never been there with him, and tonight this seemed the most beautiful sight on earth. They ought to have a chance to change that. "The clearest I've ever seen them was in Chamonix," she said, not to denigrate the view, but because she'd finally found words and because she'd never been able to keep from running on when her passion was touched on. "I know the Alps aren't the tallest mountains, but I still don't think there's anything quite like them. The stars seemed so close you could almost touch them. It was terribly cold, but I didn't mind. And we were horribly busy most of the time, but I was able to get away a few times when Olivia was distracted. I didn't have my telescope there. Olivia showed me the picture of it on Christmas, but I suppose she couldn't bring it along without ruining the surprise. I want to go back with it, though. It was breathtaking. You-" She looked back at Regulus, remembering herself and him and the tea in her hands and finished awkwardly, "You should come - see it." Regulus listened to her as she spoke, and the longer she went on, the higher his eyebrows raised, the less-anemic his grin. By the time that she'd uttered the words "you should see it", he had an honest-to-Merlin smile on his face, and looked surprised, but pleased. "I don't think I've heard you speak so many sentences cropped together in your life," he observed, teasing her lightly. "Well-done." It was a relief, truth be told, that they could still lose themselves to their whims. He'd once accused her nerdy babblings of being "cute", and it was probably best left-unsaid the expressions on her face when she'd tolerate him showing her all manners of terrifying creatures in school, and this felt almost like that time returned. "I'd love to go," he added almost shyly, rolling his shoulders in order to appear a little less flattered than he felt. "To Chamonix, or really, see anything through your telescope. You'd have to tell me what it was, though. I'm hopeless." He sat down on a concrete block; there'd been on all sorts of strange things up here. Mostly Muggle. Regulus assumed that they'd been belongings from either previous tenants or from the Muggles living on the non-magical floors. He left room for Chloe to sit by him if she wished, much too shy to suggest it under the sudden intimacy of the stars. Chloe smiled down at her tea, embarrassed, but not unpleasantly so. "You are hardly hopeless," she said. "The old lessons come back," she added quickly because her first words had contained more seriousness than she had intended. Flustered, she searched for something to do with herself. There was space beside Regulus, but the block was only so large. Hesitantly, she sat down on the edge, trying not to brush too close. There was a time when it would not have mattered to either of them, but every word, every touch had more meaning now. "I suppose that's assuming I paid attention in the first place," Regulus said, but they both knew that he was being facetious. He'd thrown himself into his studies after Sirius had left the family, after all. He was desperately trying to keep things pretty non-serious, but it was difficult with so many topics that felt "off-limits". He eventually decided that pretending was insulting to both her intelligence and his. But where to start? Was starting even necessary at this point? "Did you know," he said, his voice quiet, "that a few days after Sirius left, he sent an owl telling me to come with him? I didn't consider it as a possibility for a second, of course. I wonder what might have happened if I had? Such thoughts are silly and pointless, but..." He shrugged. Little more to say. Chloe did not comment on the abrupt change of topic. "I don't suppose it's possible to-" she began, but stopped. It was possible to know, at least in theory, but such speculation was dangerous. It was the reason no interns were allowed into Time until nine months into their term. (As well as the reason that Mr. Croaker, good as he was, was also quite, quite mad in Chloe's estimation.) If he had left, it would not have gone well for him, with society, with his friends, with most of his family, but then, could it have really gone worse? "You would have had me," she said, then shook her head, gesturing vaguely with her teacup. "I don't mean-" She didn't want to suggest that her - friendship - was sufficient compensation for the loss of everything else or, for that matter, to imply that he didn't have it now. "I wonder about some things as well." "What do you wonder about?" Regulus asked, hoping that he wasn't prying. He couldn't help his curiosity. Talking to Chloe about such controversial things was something of a novel concept to him. He wanted to hear her thoughts, suddenly, about nearly everything that they had never had the occasion to discuss in confidence. It would likely not benefit them both for him to smile a little at her admission, You would have had me, but he couldn't quite help it, even if the smile was shadowy in the dim starlight. He didn't know how best to affirm what she'd said, so he just leaned a little on her, his eyes on the horizon a distance away. "If they had not..." Chloe trailed off, swallowing. "It is not something I ever could have changed." If anything could have influenced Richard and Elmira Wilkes, it was not their children. "I wonder what would have happened if..." She could not help, but be acutely aware of his touch, and it was difficult to think around the temptation to lean in as well. "I didn't mean to leave." She still wasn't certain what else she might have done that night. "I-" It was too much to say. As Severus had once written, truthfulness was a hard-learned lesson. "Do you know why I went into Mysteries?" she asked. Regulus didn't look at her as she brought up leaving - that night in August had been painful, less so now that they were speaking once again, but he didn't like remembering a time before the Order. Before even his decision to help Edgar Bones. Had it really been a year? It both felt a lot less and a lot more. But one thing he knew - if he could do that night over again, he would have kept her from leaving. Her question, however, pulled him out of his thought. "I always figured that it was due to your mysteriousness," he answered, sarcasm coming naturally but his expression was open. Curious. "Why?" Chloe smiled faintly, distractedly. She doubted anyone truly considered her all that mysterious. "I like to know things that I probably shouldn't." That wasn't the reason why, however. "I thought I might learn enough to understand them," she said. "And to stop him." She'd never said so much aloud. Who could she ever have told? "We're a bit removed from the other Departments, but hardly anyone looks twice at an Unspeakable asking questions about anything. They wonder, but..." She looked down into her tea which must have cooled to the point of undrinkable by now. "I studied at the library as well." Hence the reason they'd met there that one painful day, but she had no more desire to talk about that than their August quarrel. "I felt that we - the Wilkes - owed it, and I was the only one left who would try. And I was owed," she said more fiercely. She was no more forgiving of the Dark Lord's offences against her and hers than she had been at fifteen. "It was a better use for anger than dropping tests." Or than being caught in supply closets with Darren Travers, although that had only been the once and why was she thinking of that now? "I didn't expect to lo - to enjoy it." She held her breath, unsure of his reaction. He listened to her, eyes on hers in the dark. He'd never considered that her interest in the Department of Mysteries had been tied to her hatred of the Dark Lord - which was likely good, because the other Death Eaters (other Death Eaters, how he hated that phrase) would not suspect her insubordination any more than he did. She'd started her rebellion in small ways so early while he'd still been accepting his fate. Regulus had always respected Chloe, but now he knew how much she'd earned that respect. "I'm glad you have something that you love," he said, a slight smile on his face. "I don't think anyone can keep going if there's nothing to enjoy... nothing to look forward to." No allies, no one to help you keep your secrets. Regulus understood. It had been why he'd felt so tired in between running secrets to Bones and checking his journal to see if Chloe had written him. Perhaps she had been doing the same thing he had, her skin full of secret words that she could only articulate behind the safety of wards. "Everyone needs hope." Everyone needed hope, yes, even if Regulus occasionally indulged his cynical streak and railed against it. He wasn't certain what made him say it, what made honesty seem like a good idea. Perhaps it was the stars she so loved above them, or the cover of night, or the fact that he had missed her and he was tired of the awkwardness between them. "You were my hope." She hadn't been certain what he would say. That it was dangerous, that it was foolish, that it was pure hubris, that she should have told him, even. She had wanted to share the secret, certainly, and with no one more than with Regulus, but when would she have said anything? When he neither mocked nor condemned, Chloe released the breath she'd been holding, only to catch it again. "You-" She never knew what to say when he spoke tenderly. Her chest filled with an unspoken echo, unspoken because what could she say that did not fall short? She'd never hated her own inability with words so much. Chloe set aside her tea, not noticing or caring if it spilled, fumbled for his hand in the dark and held it tightly. "Everything." For as much as Regulus could prattle at length about nearly anything, he was somewhat emotionally stunted when it came to verbiage. Displays of fondness were generally frowned upon as a Black; he had been in Hogwarts for several years before Meredith, of all people, had given him a hug and he had thought her quite mad at the time. He could forgive Chloe for her lack of words; he had never felt her inadequate when it came to expressions - thankfully he generally understood precisely what she was trying to say. Her hand was tight against his. Regulus couldn't think of anything that didn't sound like he'd either stolen it from something sloppy on the Wireless or didn't sound like he had mental inabilities, so he simply raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over the knuckles. It was likely a gesture that was outdated by a good hundred years, but the Blacks had never been known for their trendiness. Old-fashioned manners did not bother Chloe. The Wilkes were no more demonstrative than the Blacks, and the simple gesture was enough to set giddy butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She squeezed his hand again and laid her head on his shoulder. During Chloe's first summer back from Hogwarts, her father had decided that his daughters needed additional schooling to counteract the subpar education they must be receiving from the likes of Albus Dumbledore as well as the unreliably romantic notions to which young girls were naturally prone. Along with the social events which Mother had carefully overseen, that summer had been full of trips to the library where they memorized such importance guidelines as Samuel Richardson's, 'That a young lady should be in love, and the love of the young gentleman undeclared, is an heterodoxy which prudence, and even policy, must not allow.' Mother put it much more simply: 'a lady never speaks first.' Chloe, as frequently as she scandalized her older sister, still considered herself a lady. She had no desire to throw out all of the rules, but she still felt as though something more ought to be said or done. And really, after everything they had endured over the past year, everything that had been looked and implied and carefully avoided, what did constitute speaking? She'd never said the words, not to mother or father or even sister. Her family did not use such terms. Half whispered, half thought as they were, Chloe was not even sure she said them now. "I love you." For as little experience as Chloe had with saying those words, Regulus had had just as little experience hearing them. Indeed the only one of his relatives who had ever expressed affection in such terms was Narcissa, and it was hardly the same sort of endearment with the same meaning behind it. He had never expected to hear such words at all, much less from the person he'd most wanted to hear them, and for a moment, he merely regarded her with wide eyes, as if he knew that he must have heard her incorrectly. But no, he'd heard her whisper. He closed his eyes, trying to identify the feeling the words produced in him, but failing that, merely turned his head slightly and kissed her temple. Regulus was suddenly at a loss - he couldn't say "I love you too" because that was just... well... crap. It was an echo. It didn't encapsulate exactly the relief and warmth that had spread over him, but he doubted anything could. Still, he had to say something, he felt, even if he was terrible at it and said the wrong thing. At long last, he simply repeated her words: "I love you," and moved his arms until they were around her, his warmth against hers, silent and still in the night. Tomorrow, in a few hours, too soon the world would return. There would be work for both of them and more secrecy, and the inevitable retribution visited on those who had spoken out. They would lose more friends, watch loved ones die, and count themselves fortunate if they survived the coming weeks. But for now it was still possible to push back the darkness. |