Eternal Light | Regulus Black

Easter Holiday 1977

Evan Rosier,

That was a pureblood name. I knew of Rosier snr, Druella Black's older brother. And I think there was a third Rosier, but I couldn't remember.

"How old are you?" I questioned, but didn't get an answer.

I turned to him, ready to scold him for not answering, but then saw his pale face and his harsh pants.

"You're not going to die on me are you?" I narrowed my eyes at him. He didn't answer.

"In there," I gestured, opening the door to the big bathroom. I closed the door behind us and told him to sit on the edge of the tub.

I wet an cloth and threw it at him, him barely catching it.

"Clean your wounds so I can take a better look at them."

"You're ordering me to clean my own wounds?" He hissed through his white lips.

"Well I'm not touching those gnarly cuts," I curled my lips in distaste.

"You made them," he stated.

I shrugged my shoulders unbothered. I sat down on the tiled floor, resting my back on the wall. I was more tired than I cared to admit, but allowed myself to take a second.

"Seventeen," Evan hissed, while sweeping the cloth over his bare torso.

I snapped my head to his and calculated in my head.

"You're not in Hogwarts... Are you in some other wizarding school then?"

"No," he said, and tossed the dirty cloth in the tub.

I stood and went closer. I pressed my hand over the wound and used a quick healing spell while he stared with open lips. I resumed healing a cut on his face and a few on his arms.

"What the hell are you?" He growled, drawing away from me.

"I'm a girl who just spared your miserable life, so watch your tone," I snapped.

"You didn't use your wand," he gulped, "and I saw the knife sticking from your leg, and you're not even limping."

I straightened my back and looked down at him.
"Wash up, I'll have an house elf bring you clothes and point you to a room."

I left without saying anything more.

I stared at myself for a long time. The splashes of the dried up blood scattered everywhere, like spilled paint. I drew my daggers from my holsters and dropped them to the sink, letting the running water take care of them.

After taking a skin burning shower, I dressed and went to the room I'd asked the new house elf point Rosier to. I still had a few knifes tucked in my clothes, just in case.

Rosier was sitting on the bed, and didn't move a muscle as I entered. He looked younger now, that I had the chance to see him up close without dirt and blood smeared all over his face.

"What makes a seventeen-year-old pureblood wizard turn into an assassin," I asked rhetorically.

"Crappy parenting."

I hummed in amusement. "Not looking forward to getting back home then?"

"You said you have use for me," he snarled, not appreciating my comment.

"Did I?" I tilted my head at him.

"Stop playing games with me!" He snapped, "why did you let me live?"

"Why didn't you stop fighting?" I asked seriously this time. "The other one did, he dropped to his knees, and begged — why didn't you?"

He looked taken aback. But then he looked angry again. "You want me to beg is that it?"