Hiraeth | Regulus Black

Chapter Thirty Nine

"This is the most sinister thing imaginable." Esme grumbled as she stared at herself in the long mirror.

"Sinister?" Regulus asked, zipping up the back of her dress.
She turned to face him, "This whole party to celebrate the fact we've essentially joined a murderous cult?"

Esme turned back around to look at herself in the mirror. She twisted her arm, revealing the Dark Mark branded into her skin. As she grazed her fingers over the black tattoo, it was still tender to touch.
Regulus gently placed his hands on her shoulders, "You're right, this is really sinister. We just need to play along for a while."

"Hopefully it's not too difficult." She sighed, "As long as we're not to complete any missions."

"Right." He agreed, straightening out his own collar as he stood beside Esme in front of the mirror.

Esme pursed her lips and continued to stare at herself in the mirror. Her whole life had been turned upside down but still she was expected to carry on as if nothing had happened.

"Regardless, you look very beautiful."

She turned to face Regulus, scepticism carved over her features as she asked "Why?"
"Excuse me?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Um..." He hesitated slightly, "Because it's true? It's true all of the time but particularly right now too."
Esme scoffed, "Shut up."

Regulus laughed, kneeling down to tie up the laces of his shoes, "What did I do?"
"You're trying time distract me and I won't fall for it."
He retorted, "Doesn't mean I'm lying."

"Oh do shut up."

The party downstairs filled Esme and Regulus with dread as they stepped over the threshold and into the lavish parlour room of the Avery household.
The walls of the expansive room were lined with streamers of celebration. The floor filled with swaying and chatting witches and wizards, all dazzling in an array of black, silver, and emerald formalwear.

Regulus nudged Esme gently with his arm, drawing her back to reality as they looked around the room.
"Right... Yeah..." She gripped tightly onto his arm.
Esme couldn't get over how this was the complete antithesis of the last party she'd attended - the Lestrange wedding anniversary. Everything had changed since then.
Everything had gotten much darker.

"I should go and speak to my parents. Do you want to come?" Regulus asked.

"I-er..." She thought back to how icy Walburga and Orion had been when she visited over Christmas, "I think they've seen enough of me for a long time."
He sighed, "Esme..."

"It's fine. I need to talk to my father anyway. There's... Something I need to ask about." She reached for his hand and gently squeezed his fingers before heading off across the room to where her two parents stood, chatting merrily to Antonin Dolohov.

Esme couldn't stop the image playing over and over in her mind - on a loop.
The figure, his silhouette illuminated in the large window, it was unforgettable. It was carved into her brain. The way he seemed to glide effortlessly as he turned to her. The face of Tom Riddle.

He was the Dark Lord. He was Voldemort.

"Father." Esme tapped Lucas on the arm.

"Ah! Is this your daughter, Lucas?" Asked one of the men. He was slightly on the short-side and had bright blonde hair, almost white. "My, she is stunning." He mused.
Lucas grinned broadly, "Yes! Esmerelda, my dear, won't you say hello to Corban Yaxley?"

Esme forced out a slight smile to the man. But she couldn't hide her repulsion when Yaxley reaches for her hand and slowly pressed his mouth to her knuckles.