The Storm | Regulus Black

The Betrothal and the Solution

It was Thursday, what Thursdays generally meant for Agatha and Regulus was the borderline traumatic and painfully awkward Prefect rounds they were to do. Unfortunately they were in such positions that they could not just stop being Prefects; for one their parents would not like it in the least and they needed admirable reputations and futures. Well, in a way Agatha could have quit the duties; she would not have a career anyway. However, she would lose if she were to quit. And she did not feel like losing to Regulus Black. His ego would rise to an otherworldly level and she would lose her dignity.

Granted, she had already lost part of her dignity when Rabastan Lestrange had taken her virginity. Even though the both of them fancied each other and he had treated her right when doing it her value had gone down, his had gone up. She didn't really regret it, Rabastan was a respectful, handsome, pure-blood young man. He was her first boyfriend, anyway. Her brother—Rabastan's best friend—had unfortunately found out about it and their fling had ended with the snap of his fingers.

She would enjoy having something to be truly proud of. However, she needed a good husband, if she even would be able to find one out of the pure-blood boys whom she already disliked to begin with. There wasn't any pride in the accomplishment of marrying an adequate man. Then again the only purpose she really had was keeping the bloodline going by birthing an heir—preferably a boy. If it came down to it she would probably have to marry one of her cousins and create a child who would look extremely deformed and inbred. At least their parents hadn't a care in the world whether or not their children slept in the same bed with their spouses.

But in any case, Agatha had come to terms with the fact that she would never do anything truly meaningful in her life. That's just how it was. She wanted to be perfect. She desired to be interpreted as being the kind of perfection that no one would even be able to dream of achieving. And by being what was expected of her and doing it well was the only way of getting to her goal.

Agatha descended the stairs leading up to the girls dormitories at 9.01 P.M. that Thursday.

"You're late," said Black.

"I was busy." She wasn't.

They exited the common room and were met with an empty dungeon hallway.

"Doing what?" asked he.

"Why so nosy?" she retorted and looked up at him.

He glanced down at her and then back at the end of the concourse. "Answer the question, will you?"

"It's none of your concern."

"Fine," he said irritably.

Agatha stayed silent. She was not in the mood for Regulus Black that Thursday. She had gotten a letter at lunch which she had not been looking forward to receiving.

Dear Agatha,

As you know, you will be betrothed during your last years at Hogwarts. Sixth year is your chance to find someone suitable and respected to marry. If not, we will decide on someone for you. 

You have until the end of May.

Sincerely,
Herbert Burke II

She disliked the fact that they were rushing her. If she was to be perfect, she needed no less than a perfect husband. And a perfect boy was incredibly hard to find. Besides, her parents already had a son who would inherit their family legacy and he had always been something of a bachelor. Caractarus Burke III was charming, good looking, wealthy, respectable and knew what he was going to do with his life. He was a perfect suitor. Herbert and Primrose didn't essentially even need Agatha to marry anyone. As Regulus had so kindly said: she was probably a mistake.