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powderblueblood · 5 months

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STEVE HARRINGTON X MILLION DOLLAR MAN !!!!

( idk if that’s what you meant 😭 pls delete if it’s not <3 )

send me 🎵+ character name and i’ll write a lil blurb inspired by a song from their playlist (you can also request songs and i will do my level best. god is a dj and i'm god)

▶ MILLION DOLLAR MAN - LANA DEL REY

you've got the world, but baby at what price? or how falling in love with notorious conman steve harrington began your career as a fence of stolen jewelry.

an: @stveharringtn cherry how the fuck did you know that i've been sitting on a conman!steve au for what feels like a hundred thousand years. PERFECT SONG PERFECT CHOICE lets begin i hope you like it

warnings: my blatant obsession with the oceans eleven cinematic universe and pathological need to create a heist au out of EVERYTHING. and CUSSING IS IN THIS TOO.

word count: 2.5k

MIAMI BEACH, 1990

“Whatever happened to a good old-fashioned safe?”

“I don’t trust a safe. I don’t trust me, I don’t trust you, and I most definitely don’t trust a safe.”

Dustin Henderson dangerously toes the edge of squawking, but he doesn’t know any better. At this point in his career as a thief, he doesn’t understand that when Steve Harrington says he doesn’t trust anyone, it’s not dismissive. It’s simply a missive, a fact of life. Everyone’s got knives, everyone’s got backs. Stands to reason that someone’s going to thrust and someone is going to get stabbed.

Steve likes to take all the necessary precautions.

He doesn’t trust anyone.

“But her you trust?”

Robin Buckley’s tone is hard. Robin Buckley is the only person that Steve could imagine himself trusting, and even so, they keep each other at an imperceptible arm’s length. To the outside world, they’re bosom buddies, best friends eating dirt together. But they both understand the business that they’re in.

They keep their knives sharp.

They take all the necessary precautions.

So why the fuck is Steve bringing an outsider into the ring.

“I never said that.” Steve grabs a coaster and pointedly puts it where Robin might next aim her beer bottle, dripping with incriminating condensation. All over his agarwood coffee table.

“It was inferred.” Robin pointedly puts the bottle down– to the far left of the coaster. Fuck you.

“I don’t see how that’s my problem.” Fuck you right back.

“I know why he’s not using a safe,” Eddie Munson crows from the near background, wiping ash from his face. Eddie Munson, munitions expert. Eddie Munson, expert in blowing up any conversation within a three mile radius. Detonation test, by the way, that’s why his face is covered in shit.

Steve holds out a hand–stop right where you are–before he can reach the agarwood table.

“Because he’s–” and proceeds to make that finger in hole gesture that doesn’t crack a single smile in the room. Not even Dustin Henderson’s, mostly due to the fact that it’s happening behind his head. “Because he’s fucking her.”

“It’s not that,” Steve and Robin say in unison, with Steve’s eyes narrowed on Eddie and Robin’s eyes trained unmercifully on Steve.

It’s not that. They’re right. It’s worse.

There’s something psychosexual about the game of tennis. The grunting, the tiny little skirts, the whacking of balls. The amount of money rich people love to spend on it. There’s something evil here, and you’ve committed yourself to a summer of trying to figure it out.

Well, half-committed. Your real commitment is making enough tips to make a dent in your looming student loans. Post-graduation, a friend had given you a hot tip about private tennis clubs in Miami. They use hundos like napkins there, girl. Go get your piece.

Your nana lives in Miami. Lived. She’s dead now, three months. You’re living in her condo now– technically in a seniors complex, assisted living type of thing, but it’s okay. It’s quiet. The people chat and force you to play bocce ball sometimes, the only sport you understand.

Tennis, you don’t understand, other than the fact that these people have more money than they know what to do with and they’re all too repressed to grunt in the privacy of their own homes.

After a time or two taking drink orders and bringing their rackets for in-house repair, they all blend into the same amorphous blob– the white outfits-on-white people effect does not help. They tip you in enormous digits, confident that you’ll remember them and treat them right, but you don’t have that skill. Some of your co-workers do, but you don’t.

So, you notice when someone stands out.

You smell him before you see him, and you know how that sounds, but bare with–

The thickening, insistent incense smell of patchouli. Rainwater. Dust. Lemon.

When you turn from your place behind the bar, fetching your eighth double vodka soda in what seems like as many minutes for another bleach-blond man in his mid-forties, he’s leaning with one elegant elbow propped on the marble top. Sunglasses push over a shock of brown hair, streaked with blonde from the Florida sunshine.

“Macallan, buddy. Up.” But he’s not talking to you. He’s talking to the bartender, Trent, the picture of incompetence. Trent nods to him, smiling broadly, but that flattens into a hard line as he turns toward the bar.

This guy politely turns his head, eyes glossing right over you. But you are just staring a bullet hole right though him, and you can’t help it. He’s magnetic. He’s dressed in a light blue linen suit, a far cry from the tennis uniforms or the hollering Versace shirts every other man in the place seems to be wearing. The slope of his shoulders suggest something… provincial.

He’s not a city boy– man. This is a man.

You hear a clatter to your immediate right and see Trent pouring a finger of Chivas into a tumbler.

“Oh, Trent, that’s not–”

He passes it off to the linen gentleman, this Miami cowboy, with a serene smile. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a Chivas and a Macallan, but you would.

And you bet he would too.

He departs in a cloud of the same heavenly scent he’d arrived in, heading courtside to watch trust fund kids fumble over backhands.

“Trent,” you say, reaching for the correct bottle and a fresh tumbler. “Meet Macallan. For next time, okay?”

The blond kid just shrugs at you. “All that shit tastes the same to me.”

To you.

You linger near the arm of his chair before speaking, suddenly able to hear your pulse in your ears. Up close, you can see moles dotting the hand holding the errant glass of Chivas. A big hand too, it seems to dwarf the crystal.

“Excuse me,” you say, as steady as you can manage. It’s not very steady. You wish you would’ve thought to check your makeup before you made a beeline out here, but time, you couldn’t help but feel, was of the essence.

He looks up at you over his sunglasses and you think your knees might buckle.

Eyes like a dark wood. Inviting you in. The kind of eyes that don’t look through you.

Christ, people had been looking through you all summer, but it didn’t matter now.

“Is that the Macallan?” he mumbles conspiratorially.

You just– nod, uniform-required ponytail bouncing.

“I’ll trade you,” he says, about to pass off the glass of Chivas, but then he pauses. Takes you in, surveying you in a way that makes you blush, “if you can finish this one with me.”

“Um…”

“Is that allowed?” he asks, “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Trouble be damned. The hell with trouble. Not only is your reputation as a little worker bee here untarnished, you can’t not sit with him.

“I’m due a break, actually.”

“So I’ll trade you. Sit down, get comfortable. Give me the scoop on these tennis brats.”

He leans in to take the glass of Macallan from you, to pass off the glass of Chivas, and he brushes your hand. You experience the full entirely of a cliche, feeling electricity thrum under your skin– but then he passes a fingertip over the ring finger of your right hand.

“That’s a pretty piece,” he hums, “Princess, right?”

For a second, you falter. Princess? Me? But it’s the ring he’s referring to– the yellow diamond engagement ring that once belonged to your nana.

“Close!” you say, twisting the band on your finger in an act of self-consciousness. “Carré cut. Less pricey than a princess.”

“But just as pretty.”

“And more rare, actually.”

“Huh,” he says, and you smooth your skirt out with one hand, taking the seat nearest him. Enveloping yourself in the cloud of him. “Rarer than a princess.”

From the court, a headband-wearing pre-teen in dazzling whites hollers fuck you, Mommy! Fuck you and your fucking bullshit topspin! I fucking hate this place!

“I’ll drink to that.”

NEW YORK CITY, 1995

The car door slams behind Dustin Henderson, raindrops rolling from the brim of his baseball cap. It’s late November and a freezing rain has descended upon the Diamond District.

Steve had at least hoped he might see sunshine when he got out of the joint.

From the wheel, he cranes his neck to the back seat where Dustin sits, wiping the dripping water from the hat’s beak. His Thinking Cap. He’s had that thing since he was a kid and has somehow managed to keep it in immaculate condition. Dustin loves details. Dustin also loves risk. Which is why he’s the only man for this recon job.

“Tell me,” Steve says, tone as level as he can possibly keep it.

“She is way hotter than I remember.”

“Dustin.”

“Miami always makes people less hot. I think it’s the heat,” the kid chuckles, an obvious attempt at lightening a tense mood. See, they weren’t supposed to be here. They weren’t supposed to be looking for you. Robin hadn’t said don’t go looking for her, but that more or less should have been in the terms of Steve’s release from Sing Sing.

“Dustin.”

“She’s in there, just like you said she’d be in there. It’s a white room and it’s got every kind of goddamn sparkler you could think of. Three layers of security. Three. What kind of jewelry store you ever been to that’s got three layers of security?”

A detail like that would make a less accomplished thief sweat. But Dustin and Steve share a knowing smile.

“A jewelry store selling stolen jewelry.”

“Exactly,” Dustin nods. “I thought she’d be front-of-house, but she’s got her own office. Tucked away in the corner. Appointment only.”

“Any availability?”

The younger man smirks. “For me or for you?”

Buddy’s is the last place in midtown you can get a decent drink and not be surrounded by throngs of yuppies.

You know this, because you tend to date the yuppies in the throng.

This is the one place that seems to be universally avoided by the trader set– it’s too dark and wooden in here, no brutalist architecture to make them feel at home while they rail lines of coke off their girlfriend’s compact mirrors.

At Buddy’s, there’s a pianist that’s been propping up the corner for the last half century, minimum. A carpet that’s never been shampooed spreads across the floor and the mahogany is dented in all the places the light doesn’t hit. You can smoke indoors. Everything Happens to Me by Chet Baker will play, and everything feels like it’s going to be alright. At least until happy hour ends.

You have a regular seat by the bar, a vantage point for people-watching. A gin martini, hold the vermouth, sits waiting for you by the time you arrive. On an average Thursday, you spend a couple of hours drinking three of these in an act of decompression from the violent fluorescent lighting of your workplace. From peering through a looking glass, examining the way light refracts through gemstones.

From moving cargo that isn’t yours to move.

This Thursday has been no different.

You drag a finger along the condensation of your martini glass, it’s perfect conical shape a welcome weight in your hand.

Your hair is piled up on top of your head, and you wear your reading glasses, and though you are beautiful, no one bothers you. Nothing bothers you.

Until you hear a sound you haven’t heard in years.

Tapping, against the bartop. One, one. Two, two. Three, three. Nerves. It was the only time you could ever tell that he was nervous.

“Macallan, buddy. Up.”

Fucker.

He knew you by every single detail about you, let’s get that straight.

He is entirely sure that in a room of a thousand clones of you, he would be able to pick out the real one, just from your minute sigh. From the way your one shoulder always slopes. From curl at the base of your neck.

From the way you play with your grandmother’s Carré cut diamond, still sitting pretty on your right hand.

He positions himself a number of seats away from you, from the seat that he’s been watching you sit at for a couple of nights in a row now. He does not approach you directly.

Partially to see if you’ll still remember him.

Steve is still vain, in his ways. He wants a spotlight shone on him.

He only ever remembers the warmth of yours.

He orders the same drink he ordered that day you met at the tennis club, the same way. He even hopes the bartender will mistake the Chivas for the Macallan and you’ll have to climb over the bar and charmingly correct him. But Antoine, as he’s heard you call him, has been behind this bar longer than Saint Peter at the pearly gates, so there’s no fear of that.

You don’t react right away, and he doesn’t expect you to. He savors it, in fact, the opportunity to slyly watch you. Even if you’re seething. Even if you’re seething, you’re seething like a goddess might seethe. Horrifying and beautiful, all at once. The definite end of him.

Then, the lack of attention you’re showing him stretches on a beat too long.

“Excuse me,” he says from his spots a couple of seats down, “Can you do me a favor?”

You don’t respond. This doesn’t stop him. Never has.

“You mind tasting this for me?” Steve pushes the glass toward you, sending it sliding down the bar. You catch it with your right hand, yellow diamond catching in the light. A cut like that has never sparkled until you’ve worn it. “You think that’s Macallan or Chivas? Be honest.”

Steve’s fingers flex unconsciously as you lift the glass. Tilt it toward your lips. Still making no eye contact. But you don’t sip.

“I think you should be in prison,” you say into the crystal tumbler and place it back on the bar top. “Why the fuck are you not in prison.”

Steve closes the space between you, taking in that powdery perfume you’re still wearing after all this time. Candied violets. He settles into the beside you and props his palm under his chin.

“Why are you selling stolen jewelry.”

He sees you tense for a brief moment, then release. Like you knew he’d say that, like you should have seen that coming. Because you know him, and you always see him coming. Other than Robin, you’re the only one that ever has.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

“So that when some bastard in a bad linen suit asks me to hold on to some stolen jewelry, I’ll at least know how much it’s worth.”

A beat. You stare Steve down with such naked disdain that his heart twists in his chest. You hate him, and he sees that, and with all the evidence stacked up against you, he should hate you too. But that wasn’t what bit him.

“That suit wasn’t bad, Princess.”

#powder room talk #stveharringtn #s. harrington by powder #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x f!reader #heist au #conman!steve you will live forever unlike danny ocean who is apparently dead.#stranger things fic #published by powder #blurbs #clear cut

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mangomonk · 8 months

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pretty little aristocrat

↳ summary: regulus and his thief attend the Malfoy ball as a first step of selling their cover as lovers to infiltrate pureblood society and get closer to tom riddle's diary ↳ content: fake dating, begrudging partners, slowburn, mutual pining, regulus is emotionally constipated, kai is emotionally unconstipated ↳ context: regulus black x thief!oc oneshot based off my horcrux heist fic, take what you can carry, on ao3

When Kai steps out into the living room of Jade and Sirius’s flat, she’s filled with a strange mixture of bashfulness and confidence — the first from the fact that she’s still quite uncomfortable with being stared at, the latter from the fact that she’s sure her choice in her ball gown and accessories are quite riveting. Luxurious enough to pass as Regulus’s significant other at Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black’s engagement ball — she’s so confident that she can imagine that even Dumbledore would be happy that he had chosen her to work undercover.

So when she steps out, in her glimmering gold ball gown, matching gold bangles, fur shoulder wrap, hair feathers — amongst other accessories she had accumulated from her years of thievery — she is entirely shocked when Regulus stares at her first blankly and uncomprehendingly, and then hard.

“No,” Regulus says immediately, blanching.

Kai feels something in her deflate as she stares at him incredulously. “No?” She echoes, brows shooting up as she regains her composure. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, absolutely not,” Regulus continues disapprovingly, his nose wrinkling delicately as his gaze roves over her. His posh English accent is pompous and dripping with disdain as he continues, “Your choice in dress is hideous. Awfully so.”

Kai gapes at him, the low burn of embarrassment settling in her stomach as she stares at him hard. “Hideous?” She repeats, her voice climbing an octave.

Regulus nods, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but before he can continue, Sirius, who had been watching next to his brother, coughs, his elbow darting out to indiscreetly shove into his brother’s ribs. “What my dear, daft, daft brother means to say is that it’s…”

“—tacky,” Regulus finishes for him helpfully.

Sirius’s amiable smile twitches into a pained grimace as he shoots his brother a look out of the corner of his eye.

“I think it’s not bad,” Jade pitches in, stepping towards her to admire it. The amber-eyed girl had been watching in quiet interest from Sirius’s other side, her gaze strangely approving as she takes in Kai’s ball gown. “The fur might be a bit much, but I like it otherwise.” Behind her, Sirius is muttering to Regulus furiously, but at Jade’s comment, he stops and gapes at his girlfriend.

“Yes, but you also used to wear those awful pants—” Sirius begins, but cuts off immediately when Jade whirls around to stare at him.

“Awful?” She echoes incredulously. Kai winces a little out of sympathy for Sirius, who also winces underneath Jade’s stare. “You said you liked them after—”

“No, darling, I just meant—” Sirius backtracks quickly, his voice rising to a new panic, but Regulus cuts in.

“I just meant that they’re disagreeable to me,” he says evenly.

They all fall silent and still. Jade and Sirius’s eyes flicker from Kai to Regulus, who’s standing with an innocent and expectant expression on his face. Kai, on the other hand, is beginning to fume, the color rising steadily to her cheeks, not out of embarrassment, but out of irritation as she begins to work herself into an anger. It’s all she can do to prevent the hurt from showing on her face. “Of course,” Kai begins, ignoring the grimaces from Jade and Sirius. “Because everything just has to be agreeable to you, hm?”

Regulus’s expression falters, as if he’s realized he’s said something wrong. His eyes widen fractionally, and he straightens slowly, as if to not spook a wild animal. “That’s not what I meant—” he begins, but Kai has already steamrolled ahead.

“And what would you, pretty little aristocrat,” Kai fumes, “—think is agreeable for me to wear, hm?” Regulus quiets, as if then realizing that he should choose his words with care. Sirius steps forward, shooting his younger brother a warning look, but Regulus seems not to notice as an odd look flickers across his face. Kai watches as he smoothly fishes out his wand and waves it languidly. From his room, a carefully wrapped package levitates into his hands and he proffers it to her jerkily, his gaze fixating away from her pointedly. “Perhaps you’ll find this suitable,” he says, his voice revealing nothing.

Kai narrows her eyes at him, and when she makes no motion to take it, he tips his head towards it in a strangely odd-fashioned motion. Sirius, likely astutely noticing a brief deflation in her anger, grabs the wrapped package quickly and shoves it into Kai’s hand, barking out a sharp laugh of what sounds like relief. “Wonderful, Jade, love, why don’t you help her get dressed and we’ll see how this one is?”

Jade straightens quickly, nodding rapidly as she ushers Kai back into her room. “We’ll be right out,” she agrees before Kai can resist — or perhaps consider hexing Regulus. Once the door is closed behind them, Jade sighs a little as she holds out the wrapped package to Kai, who takes it grudgingly. “He’s just as bad as his brother,” Jade comments as Kai pulls away at the delicate ribbon holding the package together. “They can both be so emotionally constipated—” Jade is saying, when the words die in her throat at the sight of the unwrapped package.

Out tumbles emerald silk, the glistening fabric sliding over her hands like water as Kai holds it upright. The green is beautiful, vacillating between the color of ink and a deep green in the light. “Wow,” they both breathe out. Though Kai is stubborn and catches herself in her awe, she is also a thief with a vicious affinity to all things beautiful, so she holds no resistance as Jade begins to excitedly undo her corset to get her into the new dress.

“Why does he have this?” Kai grumbles as she slides the dress over her head. Admittedly, it fits better than the earlier ball gown — the fabric slides like wind against her skin and falls like water over her body.

Jade simply smiles at her in mild amusement, her gaze all-knowing as she shrugs. “I reckon he’ll find it agreeable,” is all she says as she opens the bedroom door and nudges Kai out.

When she emerges from the bedroom, Kai straightens and juts out her chin stubbornly at Regulus, who has also straightened from his earlier slouch against the wall.

Regulus is staring at her assessingly, his gray gaze heavy and roving, but unreadable otherwise. “Well?” She demands, eyeing him irritably. “Is this agreeable to you?” She didn’t think that her choice of dress earlier had been that bad at all — no, Regulus was just an uptight prude with no sense of fashion. Though his current clothes suggested otherwise — he was looking irritatingly handsome in his billowing satin shirt and finely tailored trousers. A heavyset robe of what looked like emerald velvet was folded neatly over his arm as he assessed her change of clothes. Distractingly, Kai notices that the emerald of his robes is the same color as her dress.

“Yes, it’ll do,” Regulus said shortly after a pause before turning away from her.

Kai scoffed a little, before hitching her skirt up a little to follow him. He was so bloody irritating that it was easy to forget that she tolerated him sometimes. “It’ll do,” she mimicked, purposely drawing her voice in his haughty manner. “You spare no compliments to a lady and you call yourself a gentleman,” Kai grumbled under her breath.

— — — — —

The carriage ride to the Malfoy Manor is tense and silent. Kai is quiet because she can begin to feel the nerves build in her stomach — the familiar ache of anxieties that begin to gnaw at her before any mission or paid job she accepts. But this one feels different — it feels like higher stakes and she can imagine all the ways that their night could go wrong. They needed to sell this cover so she could get closer to the diary, but what if they couldn't? She could imagine any of the Pureblood aristocrats seeing through her and Regulus’s cover easily — maybe they can see it in the way she holds herself that she doesn’t belong there, or the way she drinks or dances or laughs. Maybe Dumbledore made a grave mistake in entrusting this cover to her. Kai is so quietly engrossed in these thoughts that she didn’t notice that the carriage had stopped, and that Regulus had already climbed out of the carriage and had been waiting for her.

“Please forgive me and accept my hand,” Regulus says as he stares up at her. His hand is outstretched to help her down from the carriage. Kai blinks down at him a few times before she realizes that he had mistaken her silence during the carriage ride for stormy anger. While she had been angry over his choice of words, it wasn’t anything new — the first thing that Regulus had said to her when they met was that she wasn’t good enough.

But Kai would rather hex herself in the foot than admit to Regulus that she was nervous, so she shoots him a withering look to disguise any anxieties. “I’m afraid I might be disagreeable to you,” she says wryly, swallowing down her nerves.

To his credit, Regulus looks embarrassed, though she’s not sure if it’s because of what she’s said or if it’s because the other couples that had descended from the other carriages had begun to look at them curiously. “Your choice in dress was… eccentric,” Regulus says slowly.

“Wow—” Kai drawls unimpressed, but Regulus shoulders on before she can work herself into another fit of anger.

“But I will admit my words were quite harsh, and I apologize. Please forgive me and accept my hand.” Regulus is looking up at her through his lashes, and her mind goes unhelpfully blank despite her irritation with him. In their time together, she’s never heard Regulus utter any semblance of an apology to anyone, so hearing it from him plainly is quite jarring. She’s about to move to take his hand when he continues, his gaze flitting away from her. “And, on the contrary, I never said you were disagreeable to me.”

Not fair, she thinks, swallowing thickly. Her resistance entirely dismantled, Kai grabs his hand none too gracefully and steps down from the carriage. Before she can react, Regulus lifts her hand and bends over at the same time, his lips against her knuckles in one swift motion. Even though he barely brushes her skin, Kai flinches back out of pure shock, but Regulus keeps a firm hold on her hand.

“What are you doing?” She blurts, mortified, her jaw gone slack.

“It’s tradition,” he hisses irritably. When he finally straightens, his face is a mask of cool calmness. He dips his head imperceptibly at her and Kai takes it as a signal to step down from the carriage.

Once she does, he lets go of her hand immediately, his hand darting into the pockets of his sleek robes, but Kai pays him no mind as she straightens her dress and looks around.

The Malfoy Manor is large and grand, with rising marble pillars decorating the front of the mansion and beautifully pruned hedges leading to a garden. Glowing orbs of colored light bob gently in the air, lighting the cobblestone path that leads to the manor’s doors. They’re also not alone — other couples are getting down from their respective carriages, all following similar mannerisms that Regulus just displayed.

When they enter the manor, Kai becomes immediately aware of the weight of stares. “They’re staring,” she hisses to him, though she tries to maintain a neutral expression and not one of panic. It’s difficult though, especially when she can see the unabashedly scrutinizing stares from her peripheral view. Being stared at goes against every fiber in her body, against every skill that she has survived off of thus far, but she holds in her panic.

“Of course they are,” Regulus murmurs. When she looks up at him, she’s irritated to see an expression of true impassiveness on his pretty features. If anything, he looks entirely bored as he surveys the room.

“I thought we were supposed to go unnoticed,” she whispers to him, feeling a flush crawl up the nape of her neck at all the attention.

Regulus snorts softly, his gaze finally flickering down to her in plain amusement. “No, thief,” he murmurs, quiet enough for only her to hear. “That was never the plan.” Before she can say anything else, he lifts the crook of his elbow and tilts his chin down imperceptibly at it. “We’re supposed to sell our unity. Now take my arm before you raise any more suspicions.”

Kai straightens, doing as she’s told grudgingly. When she loops her hand around the crook of his elbow, he stiffens a little. “You’re holding on too tightly,” he hisses, his eyes flaring briefly before it smoothes back into one of cordial blankness as he dips his head in greeting to a nearby couple that had glanced over in interest. Kai blinks down at her hands before realizing that irritatingly, he’s correct. She had been gripping onto his arm like a lifeline, her fingers bunching up the velvet fabric of his robes.

She loosens her hold immediately, taking a steadying breath. “I didn’t expect to be stared at like this,” she says, still feeling entirely tense. She doesn’t understand how Regulus can look so calm and unbothered in an environment like this.

“It’s because you’re with me,” he says simply, taking a gorgeous glass chalice from a nearby server’s plate. Kai eyes the glimmering details of the chalice distractedly before registering what he had just said. She narrows her eyes at him instinctively, thinking that he was being big-headed as usual, but Regulus’s expression holds nothing of his usual arrogance as he eyes the glimmering contents of the chalice assessingly.

He seems to sense her doubt because he just sighs, as if she’s being unbearably dumb. “I’m the only heir to one of the most powerful families in the Wizarding World. And I’ve never taken anyone to any of the bloody balls we always had to attend,” he continues, taking a long sip from the chalice. When he lowers the glass, his lips are stained scarlet from the wine. “Of course they’ll be staring.”

“Oh,” Kai says dumbly, tearing her gaze away from his mouth when another thought occurs to her. “Why haven’t you taken anyone—”

“Regulus,” a voice drawls from behind them. When they turn, Kai finds herself in the path of a tall, willowy girl her age. Immediately, Kai’s attention is dragged to the girl’s hair — long and adorned with delicate gold designs that’s glossy enough that Kai can feel her fingers begin to twitch. She’s beautiful, or she would be, if her face wasn’t twisted in a look of barely concealed contempt as it falls on Kai.

“Carrow,” Regulus greets coolly, dipping his head politely.

“Alecto,” the girl corrects, a little smile playing across her lips. She really is pretty, Kai thinks as she tears her gaze away from the gold in her hair. “We’re on a first name basis, aren’t we?” Regulus says nothing to this, and at his silence, Alecto Carrow’s gaze slides over to Kai. “And who is this?”

Kai straightens, clearing her throat as she dips her head, mimicking the way she had seen some of the other women do earlier when they entered. “Mei,” Kai answers, dipping smoothly into her fake background. Though she wished they had picked a cooler name, the others in the order had wanted something forgettable.

“Mei,” Alecto drawls, looking entirely unimpressed. Her brows arch as she scrutinizes her. “And what’s your family name?”

“Tian.”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, looking at her assessingly. “Haven’t heard of it.”

“I’m not from around here,” Kai says, casting what she hopes is a demure look, and to her relief, Alecto doesn’t seem interested in finding out more. Instead, the girl seems to have put her attention into scrutinizing Kai’s dress.

Alecto's expression betrays little outside of the Pureblood aristocratic impassivity that Kai has gotten used to from Regulus. Kai forces herself to not straighten, and instead leans into Regulus’s arm a little more. Predictably, Alecto's eyes track the movement impulsively. To his credit, Regulus doesn’t move away from her, but she catches the way his bicep tenses under her fingertips.

“Beautiful dress,” Alecto says finally, though her lips are pursed to suggest that she thinks otherwise. “Where is it from? I haven’t seen it in this season’s brochures.”

Kai freezes, but forces herself not to tighten her grip on Regulus’s arm. Frankly, she has no idea where the dress is from outside of Regulus tossing it to her nonchalantly earlier. Amycus seems to catch onto this because she continues, her nose wrinkled in thought — or disdain, Kai isn’t sure.

“Or is it from Cordia’s? No offense intended of course,” her attention slides to Regulus, who has been strangely quiet throughout the entire exchange. “I can’t imagine anyone connected to the Black family giving business to a shop that sells to Mudbloods.”

Alecto lets out a sharp laugh, but Kai is scrambling to follow along with the conversation. Cordia’s? Brochures? She knew she was being subtly insulted, but she had no idea what any of these words meant—

“Isn’t it from Madam Delfina’s newest line?” A new voice cuts in. Kai turns to see a girl with ash-blonde hair looking at them, her expression one of perfect boredom. It looks even more mastered than Regulus’s disinterested expression.

“Aspen,” Alecto greets with a tight-lipped smile before continuing, “No, I didn’t see it in her latest brochure—”

“By newest line, I meant, unreleased,” Alecto interrupts, stepping closer to inspect Kai’s dress. Kai can tell that the girl is subtly impressed by the way her gaze roves over Kai’s dress. “Of course, only her upper echelon have access to those designs.” Alecto's mouth shuts, a flicker of cold irritation flashing across her face. But Aspen ignores her and turns to Regulus. “Am I correct?”

Regulus speaks up, finally, his voice strangely stiff as if he was reluctant to disclose this information. “It is of Madam Delfina’s designs,” he confirms. Kai’s gaze slides up to him discreetly, but he’s pointedly not looking at her.

“And how did you manage to convince her to sell this?” Aspen asks, her gaze roving back over Kai’s dress. Kai wants nothing more than to conjure a deep hole and bury herself within it than be perceived and scrutinized at this level, but instead, she stands perfectly still and matches the girl’s assessing stare. “I attempted to get my hands on this, but she refused me. Twice, actually. In fact, I didn’t even see this color.”

Regulus looks away, his tone bored as he answers shortly, “I had it made.” Kai’s gaze darts up to him in surprise. She hadn’t thought about the dress’ origins at all, let alone thought that it had any high society significance. He’s still pointedly not looking at her at all, his gaze roving around the room in careful disinterest.

In front of her, Alecto pales a little as she says, “Custom made?”

Regulus’s gaze turns to Alecto coolly. Kai finds herself grateful not to be on the receiving end of that, because his stare is unexpectedly chilly. “As you implied earlier, Carrow,” he begins, his voice cold. “Only the best for those connected to the Black family.” He pauses for a beat, his eyes flickering to Kai. His gaze is heavy with significance as he looks at her, his glower softening in a way that makes her breath hitch. “And she’s to become a Black.”

Kai, who has remained silent and still for this exchange out of fear of saying something that would flag suspicion, jolts at his words. Luckily, both Aspen and Alecto seem equally as caught off guard that they don’t notice her shock as they both gape at Regulus. The witches and wizards that had been hovering around them indiscreetly also go quiet.

“The rumors are true then?” Alecto blubbers, her eyes wide with shock. “You’re engaged? To her?”

Almost immediately, cold anger steels Regulus’s expression as he draws himself to his full height. Kai finds herself once again relieved not to be on the receiving end of his stare because for the first time, she becomes aware of how tall he is as he looms over Alecto. His body language is sharp and intimidating, power rolling off his figure in waves. Though she’s not on the receiving end of his dark glower, she finds herself forcing herself not to shrink away as he radiates cold anger.

Alecto, however, is not as fortunate, because as she bears the full weight of Regulus’s vicious sneer, she wilts. “You were terribly mistaken if you had any delusions that I would get engaged to a Carrow,” He jeers, his voice vicious and cruel. Either Regulus is very good at acting or he’s actually angry, Kai finds it alarming that she’s not sure which it is. “Insult my fiance again, and I’ll speed up your family’s decline.”

At his vitriol, Alecto nods swiftly, her pale face rapidly turning a violent shade of red as she bows her head. Regulus ignores this and turns back to Kai. She’s caught off guard to see the harsh anger of his expression dissipate, replaced by an impossibly apologetic quirk of his lips, as if he had accidentally stepped on her dress. “Shall we go, my love?” He murmurs, his gaze tracking across her face carefully. Unlike the other whispers they had exchanged earlier, this one is loud enough for both Alecto and Aspen to hear.

Kai nods dumbly, her stomach doing a traitorous flip as she lets Regulus gently lead her away from the two witches. They make their way out to a balcony with little interruption, most of the other attendees swiftly moving out of their way, likely because the nearby couples had been eavesdropping on Amycus’s humiliation and had new fodder for gossip. When Regulus closes the balcony door behind them and turns to her, Kai is caught off guard to see residues of his irritation still flickering across his face.

Frankly, she doesn’t know what to address first — his jarring display of cold venom or his public proclamation that they were to be married. Kai doesn’t even know how to begin to approach the second topic without perhaps tossing him off the balcony, so she begins with the first. “Are you angry?” She starts cautiously, taking in the displeased twist of his lips.

“Why’d you let her talk to you like that?”

Kai blinks, surprised by his question. When she doesn’t answer right away, Regulus continues, running a hand over his face in clear exasperation. “You get angry at me for the smallest things, and stay quiet when she’s insulting you—”

“You think I don’t understand that?” Kai interjects, a flash of irritation twisting in her gut. She had just stayed silent during the entire exchange, letting this random witch talk down to her and treat her like dirt. She had told herself she stayed silent out of caution of saying the wrong thing that would tip off their cover, but deep down inside, she knew that wasn’t the real reason. “What I didn’t understand was anything she was even saying!”

The irritation in her gut spills over into frustration. She had never fooled herself into thinking she was a part of high society, though she perhaps longed for it in the darkest corners of herself, and now that she was in it, she found herself like an alien to the entire world. She felt out of place, painfully so. But she had felt out of place since the beginning, when Dumbledore had brought her over to Britain, when she found herself in the middle of some war that she didn’t understand, when she found that she had to work with wizards that refused to trust her skills.

“You are made for this world,” she continues, taking a step forward to jab her finger at the silk material of Regulus’s shirt. “Not me. I’m…” She had been counting on Regulus to take a step back, but he remains entirely still, and the space between them closes. He’s looking down at her with a peculiar expression, something shifting in the mercury depths of his eyes. Unhelpfully, she finds her frustration and anger mollified at their sudden proximity, her angry rant faltering on her lips, but out of spite and stubbornness, she refuses to back away and instead finishes a little lamely, “Why didn’t you just tell her where the dress was from in the beginning?”

Regulus, who had been staring down at her intently, looks away now past her shoulder stiffly. “It wasn’t important—”

“Not important?” Kai echoes in disbelief. “She just tried to make a fool of me because of my dress and you didn’t think it was important to tell me where it was from or even say anything so that I could defend myself and—”

“We’re together, of course you’re going to be wearing the highest end dress. I thought that much was obvious,” he says, sounding exasperated. The tips of his ears have grown pink, but Kai, in her frustration, cannot find it in herself to try to understand why. Because now she’s angry.

“Together!” Kai snorts, looking at the sky to bid her some mercy or patience. She’s working herself into a panicked anger now. “We’re not together, we’re engaged now because of your big mouth! They’re all expecting us to get married! This was never the plan— You need to go and clear it up that we’re not engaged—”

“No,” Regulus says firmly, looking at her finally. His gaze is unreadable as he stares down at her, the grays of his eyes black in the dim lighting. Kai gawks at him, but before she can argue any more, he continues. “There were already rumors circulating about my engagement. If we didn’t clarify it, they would have seen right through us — the Black heir would never entertain a public relationship if not to marry. And Alecto is the biggest gossiper, so it was best to just state it now.”

Kai quiets, her mind mulling over his explanation. “And for your sake, you’ll be untouchable if you have the title of my fiance,” Regulus adds slowly, his gaze carefully trained on her as though he’s approaching an animal he might spook.

Finally she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She still has the urge to be angry with him, but Regulus is regarding her so carefully and uncertainly that she finds her resistance dissolving rapidly. “Still, you should have told me earlier,” she grumbles. It really did drive her mad when he was correct. “And what am I supposed to say or do when people approach me?”

Regulus is quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful as he thinks over her question. “Just smile and nod,” he says after a moment.

“Like you smile at these events,” she snorts in disbelief, thinking back to his expression of cool disinterest.

He looks affronted as he frowns down at her. “I’ve mastered it after years of attending these events,” he says.

She rolls her eyes, clearly not believing him. “You looked bored.”

“No, look,” he insists. When Kai looks back at him grudgingly, Regulus’s cool expression of impassivity smoothens into an impossibly soft smile. He looks like a little gentleman and all, the corners of his lips quirked up politely. Despite herself, her stomach does a little flip and she finds herself unable to look away even as the smile slides off his face in place of a smug smirk. “See?”

“Yes, well, I don’t see how I’ll be able to master that in one event,” Kai grumbles, mainly to be difficult and to hide the flush she can feel creeping up her neck. It would have been easier to stay angry if he wasn’t so irritatingly handsome.

“Try it,” Regulus challenges haughtily, his eyes glinting devilishly in the low light.

Kai — stubborn, proud, and irritated — straightens and offers him her best smile, not too big, not too soft. Regulus stares at her blankly for a moment, before his lips twitch as if he was trying not to laugh. “What?” She demands, the smile sliding off her face rapidly.

“Your smile is more of a…” he pauses, his eyes bright with mirth. “...grimace.”

Kai frowns at this, feeling her face burn with embarrassment. She takes a step away from him and turns back to the door, muttering irritably, “Come on. Before your lot of rich wankers start to get suspicious and think we already got married.”

“We can work on it,” Regulus calls after her, the laughter clear in his voice as he follows. Kai ignores this — and him — until he catches up with her and proffers his arm again. Grudgingly, she looks her fingers back into the crook of his elbow as he steers them back into the ballroom.

Inside, they pass by a boy with golden hair. But it’s not the boy’s perfectly coiffed hair that catches Kai’s attention, but a gold chain hanging from the pocket of his velvet vest. Gold pocket watch, she thinks automatically, doing the mental math to discern how much it might be worth. The chain wasn’t thick, but from a quick glance, she could tell that it was carefully handcrafted and from another glance at the boy’s rather carefree posture, she could guess that it would be easy to steal—

“Don’t steal anything,” Regulus murmurs to her quietly. He had gotten closer to her at some point during her mental calculations, and the warmth of his breath against the shell of her ear jolts her out of her concentration.

“I would never,” Kai says defensively, shooting him a look, but his eyes are infinitely all knowing and unimpressed.

“I saw you looking at Carrow’s hair earlier. And at Evan’s watch.”

Kai feels the low burn of embarrassment settle in her stomach and she finds herself unable to offer any witty defense. Regulus doesn’t give her time to think of anything though because his gaze flickers away from her as he says, “If there’s anything that you want— that piques your Niffler brain, I can just purchase it for you.” Again, before she has a chance to respond, Regulus steamrolls forward, his attention focused on the ballroom around them. “Ah, I do believe it’s time for the waltz,” he says mildly. Kai is still reeling — first from the fact that he had noticed her eyeing things to steal, second that he had offered to do something kind for her.

In fact, she’s so in shock that he had noticed — she feels entirely caught in the act, and she had never been caught before — that she doesn’t notice as Regulus leads them towards the center of the ballroom until it’s too late. “Waltz?” Kai parrots belatedly. Around them, couples have begun to take up similar positions, while around the edges of the room, single girls are casting wistful glances at Regulus.

“Mm,” Regulus hums in acknowledgement, stepping away from her to give her a funny little bow. He blinks at her innocently, his eyes wide with clear anticipation. “It’s tradition.”

Kai glances at the couple next to them and quickly, but awkwardly, mimics the curtsy the woman does. “You’re mental,” she hisses, darting a panicked look back to Regulus, who is watching her calmly. If anything, he looks entertained, his eyes bright with amusement as they take in her visible alarm. It’s the most expressive he’s been all night — outside of his earlier show of anger. “I don’t know how to waltz—”

“Fortunately, I’m good at leading,” Regulus says dismissively, taking a step closer to her. He’s smirking now, clearly drawing joy from her panic.

It takes everything in her willpower not to scramble back away from him. “No one mentioned anything about—” She cuts herself off abruptly as a couple nears them. Around them, everyone has already begun to move in graceful circles.

“I’ll place my hand here,” Regulus says quietly, lifting his hand to hover over her waist. When he makes no other motion to set his hand on her waist, she realizes that he’s waiting for her response. Kai nods in agreement, swallowing thickly. There was no way out of this, it seemed, so Kai would just have to sell it the best she could. His eyes are laser-focused on a point beyond her as he carefully sets his hand at the curve of her waist. Kai has to remind herself to breathe as she tries not to focus on the warm weight of his hand over the thin silk of her dress, or the way that she can feel the pressure of his long fingers.

“What next?”

“Your hand,” he says curtly, offering his hand palm-up. Kai obliges, taking careful care to loop their fingers together. His hand is startlingly warm against hers, his touch burning.

“Like this?” She asks, her gaze flickering back up to him. Though his expression is impassive as ever, she can see the severe rigidity his shoulders have set to. Prude, she thinks in amusement as Regulus makes an odd sound at the back of his throat in affirmation. “You’re too stiff,” Kai hisses, casting a quick glance around them. “No one will ever believe—”

Regulus tugs her closer until her torso is nearly flush against his, his long fingers now firmly pressed against the small of her back as he begins to slowly lead her in a graceful arc around the room. Immediately, Kai unconsciously tenses at the unexpected proximity, even more so when he drops his head closer towards her face. “You’re the stiff one,” Regulus murmurs, his voice low as his lips nearly brush the shell of her ear.

Kai forces herself to relax, despite the traitorous flip her stomach does. The bastard always knew what he was doing. She could tell with the smarmy smirk that had begun to curve along his lips. With her free hand, she lets her arm rest against his upper arm, slightly past his shoulders so that the tips of her fingers brush against the open v-neck collar of his silk shirt. At her brush against his collarbone, Regulus’s grip on her waist tightens imperceptibly. “That’s higher than what’s proper,” he hisses, though his expression impressively remains the same. They twirl past a blonde-haired couple that shoots them a curious glance. Regulus dips his head cordially to them. “Narcissa,” he greets briefly, before leading them away from the couple.

“I’m afraid I was never educated on what’s proper,” Kai drawls, smirking at the reddening tips of his ears. She readjusts her grip on his arm, mimicking that of the couples around them. Still, however, Regulus’s biceps are tense beneath her fingers. They fall into a heavy silence, with Regulus looking stiffly past her and Kai turning her face away from him to spare the both of them a little space as she tries not to trip over either of their feet. It feels as though they’re both hiding from each other, despite the close proximity. She was beginning to lose count of the circles they danced around the room when Regulus speaks up again, his voice thick from disuse.

“The dress,” he begins, his gaze flickering down at her collarbone briefly. Kai suddenly becomes very aware that her shoulders are bare and she can’t help but shiver a little under his heavy gaze. His pale eyes track the motion before dragging painstakingly up her neck towards her face.

“If I have to hear one more thing about it—” Kai begins to complain, but the words falter on her lips at his next words.

“It’s not bad,” he finishes choppily.

Kai’s brows shoot up and she nearly steps on his foot — maybe intentionally. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? If this is because of what I said about you not being a gentleman—”

“You look nice,” Regulus interjects, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly on her waist. Kai looks at him in surprise, only to see that he’s still looking past her pointedly.

“Oh,” she says dumbly. She’s beginning to get dizzy, though from all the twirling or from his words, she doesn’t know. At this proximity, she can see the faintest of a pink flush begin to crawl up from the collar of his silk shirt. “Thank you,” she adds after a moment, though it comes out more embarrassed than she would have liked.

She’s not sure if Regulus has caught on to her change in demeanor because he straightens, the careful scrutiny from his gaze dissipating. Instead, he looks strangely pleased at her reaction for the briefest of moments until an arrogant smirk curves over his lips. “Though I suppose I was the one who chose it, so the praise goes back to me,” he muses aloud obnoxiously.

Kai lets go of his shoulder to swat at it. “I’m the one wearing it, you wanker. Without me, it wouldn’t look this beautiful,” she sniffs.

“Perhaps that’s true.”

Kai freezes at his words, going entirely immobile. Regulus tries to continue dancing and somehow manages her to tug her along, though she nearly trips over her feet. With his hand pressed firmly against the small of her back, Regulus dips her down smoothly, perhaps as a distraction, but Kai’s mind is already hyperfocused on his words. “Did you just call me beautiful?” She asks as she stares up at him wide-eyed, her lips twitching.

She can see the pink flush that had been crawling up the nape of his neck bloom across his cheeks. “I did not,” he insists, sending her a glower as he re-rights her. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop thinking it.”

Kai grins up at him cheekily and for once, decides not to argue. Seeing Regulus Black blush is enough to feel like she had won. Regulus seems to sense this victory because he swiftly changes the subject. “In Pureblood society,” he begins as he looks past her shoulder pointedly in what looks like a calculated move to conceal his expression.. “—it is tradition for couples to wear the same color to signify their unity. That’s why your other dress wouldn’t have worked. Outside of how awfully flashy it was.”

“I see,” Kai says, choosing to ignore his other comment. “So why couldn’t you just change your bloody vest to be gold? It would’ve just taken a quick charm.”

“You look better in emerald.”

Kai’s heart does another little somersault and she makes a strangled sound, her eyes wide as she stares at him. She feels as though he had just smacked her right between the eyes. But Regulus doesn’t seem to notice as he lets go of her, the absence of his hand leaving an empty void around her.

She hadn’t even noticed that the orchestral music had ended and that the floor around them was clearing. She’s still rendered speechless when Regulus finally looks down at her, his lips clamped together and a pinched look on his brow, some kind of emotional conflict flickering across his face before disappearing. He looks as though he wants to say something, but is unsure of how to proceed. “I’ll get us some refreshments,” he says after a moment, clearing his throat.

“Okay,” Kai agrees steadily, feeling the urge to be far away from Regulus before she says something regrettable. He nods in confirmation, his brows still furrowed as he moves away from her. Kai shakes her head a little and steps towards the edge of the room, where she tends to naturally gravitate towards out of habit.

She loiters by the wall for a while, enjoying the brief peace as she gazes around at the other attendees with mild interest. It seemed as though she was going to have a little break from playing the role of Regulus’s fiance, when a voice from next to her speaks up. “Miss Mei, is it?”

Kai turns, wiping the wary look off her face as she assesses who was speaking to her. To her surprise, the boy with the golden hair and gold pocket watch is standing next to her. Up close, she can see that he’s about her age. Something about him reminds her of a child — she doesn’t know if it’s the way he’s peering at her curiously or his cherub-like demeanor, but she finds herself not as tense as she was when Alecto had approached her. Kai nods, giving her best Regulus impression as she confirms, “That’s correct.”

To her surprise, the boy breaks into a smile, his teeth flashing white as he beams at her. “I’m Evan Rosier,” he says, his smile jarringly bright. Kai blinks once before dipping her head politely. “Oh, none of those cordialities,” he says dismissively. “Reg and I are close friends.”

“I see,” Kai says, mainly because she doesn’t know what else to say.

“Has he not spoken about me?” Evan asks, his eyes widening in dramatized shock. “And to think we shared a dorm for seven years!”

Kai offers a nervous laugh — was this something she would know as someone in a relationship with Regulus Black? Not just a relationship now, she reminds herself wryly. An engagement. “I think he may have mentioned you,” Kai says hurriedly.

Evan’s incredulity melts away back into curiosity. “Perhaps. I’ll have to get back at him later,” he says loftily before his expression returns to one of curiosity. “I heard from a little bird,” he begins, his eyes bright as they assess her. “—that the two of you are engaged. How did you manage that? The Regulus I know is quite difficult to tie down.” Kai is silently panicking about how to best sell their cover, but fortunately for her, Evan Rosier seems happy enough to continue the conversation for the both of them. “I imagine he’s quite difficult to be around. That git — have you ever met anyone so emotionally constipated?”

Something about Evan Rosier’s demeanor and chattiness feels harmless — or at least, not as dangerous as the other attendees — so she finds herself relaxing a little. “You’re right,” she agrees, her gaze roving around the room. Immediately, she catches sight of Regulus’s tall figure. He’s holding two chalices as he nods politely to an older wizard. Across the room, his eyes snag on to hers questioningly, his brow furrowing in concern again. “But he can be unexpectedly warm at times,” she adds after a moment.

Evan, who had just looked curious before, now looks entirely taken aback by her comment. Briefly, Kai wonders if she had said the wrong thing, but Evan nods earnestly in agreement. “You’re absolutely right. He wavers between hot and cold,” he agrees. “Though I must admit you’re the first witch I’ve heard that from.”

Kai tears her gaze away from Regulus to look back at Evan in surprise. “Oh? What do people normally say?”

“I’ve heard it all,” Evan sighs mournfully. “Difficult, big-headed, a bastard. Ah, I remember one Hufflepuff — and you know Hufflepuff’s are generally known to be boringly kind to a fault — called him, and I quote, ‘an outright demon.’”

Kai grins a little at this, trying to imagine Regulus in school. “They’re not wrong,” she muses and Evan grins back at her cheekily.

“The most irritating thing was that he was still popular after all this,” Evan complains. “As was his brother, so it appears to run in the family. But all the witches loved his whole moody temper. And that’s not to say that he didn’t have fun with them either.”

Kai’s brows shoot up at this. “Regulus was popular with the witches?” She repeats in disbelief. “He’s such an… an old maid!”

Evan snorts, laughter glimmering in his eyes. “Reg a prude,” he chokes out, shoulders shaking with disbelieving laughter. “No he was quite the opposite—”

“Evan,” a voice cuts in smoothly. Kai turns to see Regulus in front of them gazing at his friend coolly. “I see you’ve become familiar with Mei.”

“Yes, I was just telling her all about your deviant behavior back at Hogwarts,” Evan says with a sly grin. Kai shoots Evan a wide-eyed look — why would he ever admit that to Regulus? But judging from the entertained expression on his face, Evan Rosier was an agent of chaos.

Regulus stiffens a little, a look of irritation flickering across his face before he looks at her carefully, as if gauging for her reaction. “Right,” Kai says awkwardly. “Sounds like I may have been mistaken in calling you a prude—”

Evan chokes back a laugh as Regulus runs a hand over his face. “Don’t listen to him. He was the gossip mill of Hogwarts—”

“Of course, that’s how I know all about your explorations,” Evan says amiably, seeming entirely immune to the withering look that Regulus shoots at him. Kai has never seen Regulus have much of a reaction to any of her jibes, so to see him steadily growing agitated around Evan is strangely refreshing. “You know, the girls used to call him the Slytherin Prince—”

“Evan—” Regulus begins, looking visibly vexed, but Kai cuts in hurriedly.

“Ah, is that something to drink?” Kai says quickly, before Regulus can hex Evan. As much as she’s enjoyed Evan’s company, she doesn’t think it would be a good look to Dumbledore if they were kicked out of the ball.

Regulus’s attention turns back to her reluctantly as he nods, handing her the chalice. “Elderflower wine,” he says as she glances in at the scarlet contents before taking an experimental sip. The elderflower wine is sweet and smooth. When she lowers the chalice, she’s suddenly very aware of Regulus’s gaze darting to her lips. Remembering the way the wine had stained his mouth scarlet, she dabs at her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Huh,” Evan says aloud, as he watches Regulus with visible interest, as if he just discovered something. As if remembering that he was there, Regulus narrows his eyes at Evan briefly before turning back to Kai.

“I think we can go now,” he says with a little nod.

Kai tries not to let the relief show on her face. “Wonderful,” she says — and she means it. The longer she was in that ballroom, the more aware of how exhausted she was getting from bearing all the stares and interactions. Best to leave before something goes wrong. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Rosier,” she says as they step back.

“Evan,” he insists, before dipping his head politely. “And the pleasure was all mine,” he says smoothly, offering her a smile. His smile seems so genuine that Kai can’t help but smile a little in return.

When she turns to follow Regulus towards the exit, she finds that he’s watching her carefully. “You mastered that quickly,” he observes, sounding subtly impressed. “It didn’t look much like a grimace this time.”

Kai shoots him a sideways glance. “I’m not sure I was thinking about it much,” she says with a shrug.

“Hm,” is all Regulus says, his brows furrowed in thought or displeasure, she isn’t sure. All she knows is that he's still watching her carefully, his eyes tracking across her face like he's committing her to memory. With him looking at her like that, she's sure she'll never get used to be stared at. "You'll turn into a pretty, little aristocrat in no time," he says finally.

For a moment, before she can properly register his words, Kai's heart stutters. And then she recognizes her own words thrown right back at her. Shooting him a baleful glare, Kai straightens to match his stubborn posture. "That would turn your world upside down," she declares.

"Yes," Regulus agrees quietly, his lips twitching as he turns away from her. "I think you would."

#regulus black x oc #regulus black #fake dating #slow burn #mutual pining #hp #hp marauders #harry potter fanfiction #hp imagine #harry potter imagine #heist au #regulus deserved better #the marauders #marauders era

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