The Darkest Hearts || REGULUS BLACK

Chapter Eleven

With midterm exams upon them, Diana barely had any time to eat or sleep in the days leading up to the tests, let alone tutor Regulus Black on top of it all, so, thankfully, their sessions had been suspended in the meantime, which suited her just fine. Better than fine, actually. In fact, it was more akin to a blessing from Fate herself.

"Whatever it is you're thinking, Diana, stop. It won't end well for you."

Sweet Helga Hufflepuff, how her face positively burned when she recalled his words, sharp and flat all at once, and the coldness and the distance in his eyes—

"Miss Fairchild!"

Diana was jerked out of her reverie when Professor Sprout slapped a hand gloved in dragon-hide on the worktable Diana shared with her friends.

"Oh, sorry. Yes, Professor?"

"I do hope you don't plan on grinding down your grengula root that much on your practical, hm?"

The professor stared pointedly at Diana's mortar and pestle, and the grengula root within that she had ground down to a fine powder – too much, as the powder slowly evaporated in the greenhouse's humid air. The one thing that Professor Sprout had warned them not to do at the start of the lesson.

"Er, no, Professor. Sorry, Professor," she said, rushing to clean up as her classmates snickered around her.

"That will do, Miss Fairchild," Professor Sprout said wearily. "You're dismissed for the day. Go back to the castle and be sure to reread the section on grengula roots in chapter six of your book. Good day."

Diana fled the greenhouse, her face hot and her ears ringing. Another botched lesson. Perfect. If she kept going like this, she'd never pass her Herbology N.E.W.T. She needed to get out of her own head, dammit!

Once inside the castle, she made her way to the Hufflepuff Basement, resigning herself to study until lessons were over and she could go to lunch. She was halfway across the entrance hall when someone said her name.

"Diana Fairchild."

She turned at the unfamiliar voice and was stunned to see Magda Travers drifting toward her from the direction of the dungeons. Diana was certain she had hallucinated Travers being the one to call out to her, but there was no one else in the hall but them.

"Yes?" she said, hoping her voice didn't sound too high or squeaky in fear.

Travers simply held out a sealed scroll, and Diana took it hesitantly. This close, Travers was somehow even more beautiful than Diana had been led to believe. Her eyes were shrewd and the color of molten toffee, and they pierced Diana like twin swords. Her hair was impossibly thick and sleek, braided back from her cutting features like a rope of black silk. She was taller than Diana by several inches, and she tried not to feel like a mouse as she unfurled the scroll and recognized Professor Slughorn's fancy cursive. A last tutoring session the week before midterms, she read. Wonderful.

"Thank you," she said to Travers, not making eye contact as she stuffed Slughorn's letter into her bag. "Er, sorry you got stuck with tracking me down."

"It's not a bother," Travers said in a dry, cool voice that reminded Diana of crisp autumn evenings. "Actually, I volunteered."

Diana's stomach dropped. "You did?"

Travers nodded slowly. Her eyes traveled the length of Diana, from her scuffed muddy loafers to the wand pointing out of her haphazard bun. Her lips pursed in contemplation.

"I still don't see it," she murmured, speaking more to herself than Diana, "but I can understand the intrigue."

"Er...what?"