Outcasts || Sirius Black

Smoking and Feelings

Regulus was walking with Geneviève to her next class because he has a free period and was bored.

Geneviève  wrapped an arm around his shoulders, because she was taller slightly, but he always seemed to be growing, and they were just walking.

Her bag hit a steady rhythm against her thigh as she walked, until it stopped.

Regulus had grabbed the bag and pulled her to a stop.

"Now that I'm old enough, wanna skip class and smoke?" He asked hopefully.

"Who said your old enough?" Geneviève joked, turning to face him fully.

"You were my age when you started. Meaning I'm old enough." He said as if it were common knowledge.

"Touché. But I was almost 15 when I started. Your no where near that."

"It's only like nine months." He grumbled.

"Kidding Reg. Course, I ain't your mother, not that id want to be that bitch anyway."

Laughter could be heard from down the hallway, where Sirius had been alone, and randomly laughed.

As they were the only three in the hallway, Geneviève gathered that he'd been eavesdropping.

"Eavesdropping Black?" She called down to him.

"You call it eavesdropping. I call it, making sure your not filling his head with bullshit." Sirius shrugged.

Ever since Remus had shared his friendship with the girl, he had payed closer attention. And caught a bigger crush  on her than he has before. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud. He'd rather die than admit he had fallen for a Slytherin.

"Ha ha. The only bullshit she's filling my head with is all that hair product she makes me use." Regulus said.

"To have nice hair, you have to fucking try Regulus. Your not trying with that cheap crap you use. I will not be seen associating myself with someone that uses bad hair products. Besides, I'm trying to stop you from looking like Snivellus." Geneviève smirked at Regulus.

"Whatever. Let's go yea?" He pulled her arm away and they set off. Leaving Sirius to stare after Geneviève in wonder, and fear that his crush would develop into something bigger, like love. Now that would be terrible.

-

Regulus lifted the cigarette to his lips, and inhaled. Immediately he sat up from where we was leaning against the wall and coughed, doubling over.

Gen burst out laughing as he kept coughing, barely managing to ask if he's alright.

Finally his coughing fit was over and he handed the cigarette back to her, "That is awful. I am never taking up smoking."

"Fair enough. It is a nasty habit isn't it?" She asked as she inhaled some smoke.

"Yet you continue to do it." He said sarcastically.

"I'm gonna die anyway. Why not speed it up a bit?" She shrugged .

"Why do you want to speed it up?" Regulus asked quietly.

Geneviève sighed and threw the finished cigarette off the tower they were sitting on.

"Reg, there's a war coming. I'm most likely going to fight for the right side. Not the one lead by Voldemort. Being a pureblood, he's not going to like that. I'll be deemed a blood traitor. Higher on his target list. There's a very low chance that I'm going to survive this war. So I'm trying to live my life to its fullest. Do dumb teenage shit. Get drunk, high, vandalize the school, hang out with my friends."

"Don't say that. You won't die." Regulus insisted.

"I will Reg. A lot of people will. It's just the way of the world." Geneviève shrugged and leaned back.

"I'm going to make sure you don't. I could go undercover right? Give you information. We'll all be alright."

"Regulus your fourteen, your to young to be thinking about this shit. Maybe it'll be over by the time we graduate anyway."

"Your only fifteen! You shouldn't have to think about this either."

Geneviève didn't answer, but turned her head to look out the window she was sitting in.

"Just forget this entire conversation happened ok? I'm gonna try my best to survive. And you will too got it? Now focus on your school and get a good job." Geneviève smiled as she stood.

"I have potions in like five minutes. And you have charms. Let's go."

No matter how reassuring her words seemed, he couldn't shake the feeling she was planning something. Something that could get her killed.