FEBRUARY 16, 1976

KATHLEEN ENTERED THE CLASSROOM, placing her bag (which thunked heavily) by the door. She remembered last year's Defense Against the Dark Arts class taking place in that room, but Professor Spectre had moved up a floor for her class this year.

"Prewett. Black. You will be tapping the dust out of these erasers until five p.m.. Hand over your wands now," McGonagall said crisply, and Kathleen fumbled in her robe sleeve before slapping her walnut wand into the Professor's hand. 

Black handed his wand over a lot more delicately, and McGonagall left the room. 

Immediate silence filled the space, as Kathleen shot a few glances to him. She hadn't talked to Black since the Quidditch party. The only class they had together was Potions, and she sat at a table by herself all the way in the back. 

"Er- I'm going to start with the gray ones," she said, and scrambled to one of the extremely tall stacks of erasers.

She took two of them and a dustpan, before beginning to hit them together, as puffs of pale, smoke-like dust erupted in all four directions and taking forever to settle into the pan. Kathleen stifled a sneeze, not wanting to embarrass herself further. She shot a furtive glance behind a shoulder.

"Are you going to help?"

To her surprise, and she was a touch annoyed, too, Black started laughing. A teasing laugh, short and one that didn't meet his eyes. He laughed a bit emptily, and Kathleen's brows furrowed. "What?"

"Are we not going to talk about it?" he asked, tilting his head one way and letting the sunlight slip over his ice blue eyes.

Kathleen shrugged, as Fabian and Gideon's words echoed in her mind. "You were very considerate. What else is there to say?"

"I want you to thank me," Black strolled closer, taking one hand previously behind his back and raising it over her shoulder. Kathleen stilled, not facing him, as the back of his hand sparked over her neck. Two of his fingers ghosted over her skin, as he leered over her.

Like a hare in a trap, Prewett twitched and stilled before him. Her neck was freckled, Reg noticed. Just like her face, but the ones on her face were only noticeable up close.

She twisted up at him, twirling around his outstretched hand like a vine. "I have to? You should be the one thanking me after what I did for you that night."

"Please," Black scoffed slowly. "I meant what happened with Miss Blishwick."

Kathleen grew angry, though she smiled innocently. "Whatever do you mean?"

She turned back around after setting her current set of erasers upon a desk. She grabbed two more, walking to where Black and the dustpan were, and she was about to clap the two together before two hands caught her own, Black's fingers grasping over her own as the erasers were held not even an inch apart.

She thought of what she told her brothers. It's probably not going to happen again. But it looked like it was. I'll keep it casual, she'd said; not I won't do it again. It wasn't like she was going against Fab and Gid, she was just making her own decisions, under their rough guidelines. A fire sparked in her stomach, as Kathleen smiled.

"Not now. We're not going to talk about it," she whispered, before lassoing him by the neck and kissing him as if to ensnare by wire.

Black grinned against her teeth, before settling fully in front of her. He tasted different from last time, like mint rather than tobacco and firewhiskey. Her fingers naturally found his hair again, one hand gathered swashes of curls while the other ghosted over his neck. Meanwhile, Black's hands were at her waist, slowly moving upwards as he traced each rib from its center to its side.

Kathleen tried to set the erasers down, but she missed, and they fell to the ground in a flurry of dust. She broke off the kiss with an annoyed murmur, but before she could even bend to pick them up, Black snatched her by the shoulders and pressed her up against one of the chalkboards, which was taken down from the walls and lay flat on the table for cleaning.

"Concentrate," he whispered as he pressed his thumbs into her jugular. Kathleen bared her teeth, before sinking them into his lip.

It didn't happen fast from there, not like last time. No, this time Kathleen felt everything. Every touch, every breath and every fanning whisper. Each gasp was drawn from her as if he painted her from charcoal itself, and she was fully aware of the weight of their actions.

It would've been almost soft had it not been for the stiffness of the chalkboard. But at some point her robe had been shed, and his robe was stacked above it, and that was enough. She just blew off some steam, after all. She wondered briefly why he started talking to her. Kathleen wasn't overly concerned; she knew if he ignited rumors about her sleeping around with people then she'd shut them down within seconds. The Blacks and the Prewetts still had some basic respect for each other, forged within the frail links of Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ig's marriage.

When it was over, Kathleen pulled herself under and away from Black to Vanish everything off. He let out a strained hiss as she maneuvered underneath his skin, and he lay with his torso flopped over the chalkboard, eyes watching her as she fixed her clothes.

Kathleen turned back, pleasantly relaxed. She was certain now that she enjoyed him. She'd been carrying around a lot of doubt and anger, and she needed an outlet. If Black offered, why should she refuse?

She kicked her legs up to sit on the edge of the table again, opening her mouth to speak, but Black's left hand grabbed her by her collar, pushing her to lie flat on the table. Kathleen let out a startled grumble, before his hand curled around her waist and pressed her against him again. She blinked into his eyes, studying how his lips were pushed against the surface of the blackboard, and his lashes fluttered lazily with each slow blink.

"Are we going to talk about it?" he grinned.

Kathleen rolled her eyes, but deep inside, she felt something soften, like a creak in a long line of chains. She reached up to stroke the side of his head. "...Fine. Thank you,"

Black's eyes narrowed in mirth, as his lazy grin stretched to cut further across his face. "Hm,"

"-That was nice," Kathleen admitted, going a bit pink. "You defending me in front of Blishwick. We've been fighting for a while...ever since Po- Persephone passed."

Black's eyes flicked up at her, as something seemed to retreat, and his eyes blurred away. 

"Some people simply have no desire to empathize with the feelings of others," Reg murmured, as he twisted his hand, as his signet ring glistened in the window light.

Kathleen hummed in agreement. "It's difficult, living with her. But what you did helped in a way, I guess. Now when I walk in she just looks at me like I'm Frankenstein."

"What's Frankenstein?" Black asked.

"Nevermind," Kathleen whispered with a slow blink, straight hair falling into the gap between the two bodies. "Just means she looks at me weird. She's a bitch."

Black let out a short chuckle. "Indeed. Much of my House thinks of her as Nott's little girlfriend. To be honest, our respect for her fled after you slapped her bloody."

Kathleen giggled, before remembering. "...Why are you talking to me?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

Kathleen jutted her chin out, a small smile on her features. "The detention was by chance, but you initiated at Nott's party. Why?"

"Do I need a reason to talk to you?" Black murmured. There was a thin layer of drying sweat on his skin, and a few curls stuck to his neck.

"Yes, actually," Kathleen protested gently. "Slytherins hate Gryffindors. Especially now. All the older people in your House avoid me like I have Dragon Pox because they know I was friends with Posey."

"That's untrue. People avoid you because they assume you require the space. No one in Slytherin, at least, avoids you. They respect your family too much for that. Weren't you and Rowle dancing at Nott's party?"

"I suppose," Kathleen admitted, as Black took on a little sneer. "Jealous?"

"Of course not,"

Kathleen shook her head as she laughed. "Yes, you are. Well, Rowle isn't the one lying on the chalkboard with me right now."

That seemed to appease him. "...Prewett?"

"Mhm?"

"...Would you like to do this again sometime?" the question fell in a whisper, but not uncertain; rolling past his tongue like drops over a waterfall. 

Kathleen smiled contently. "I would."

Reg was Occluding, so she didn't see the relief written on his face. He reached up to touch a piece of her hair, beginning to frizz due to all the sweat. She was a warrior just like her people. Reg's heart practically tore itself to shreds just looking at her and knowing what he would do, but he squared his jaw anyway. He tucked the hair behind her ear as she chuckled, and like a daisy growing out of a road, something bloomed in the chambers of his chest.