Flora And Fawna [HARRY POTTER]

2

Rosie had always been a quiet child, only ever really talking to her sister, who was hardly her own age. That was never more obvious as when Rosie sat herself down on the Hogwarts express, after just having shared a heartfelt farewell with her sister and sister's husband. Vernon hadn't quite gotten his head wrapped around the fact that his wife's sisters were both witches, and since he and his wife were taking care of Rosie he would have to learn and accept magic as part of his life. He hadn't been unkind though, getting over the shock of walking through a wall onto the platform. He had wished her goodbye and he and Petunia both had assured her that they would be there to pick her up when she came home on Christmas break.

So Rosie wasn't unhappy when the train pulled away, and she waved to her sister and brother in law until they were out of her sight. She was just quiet.

Between the two of them, Rosie and Petunia had read over Rosie's new school books at least a dozen times. Both she and her sister could recite just about anything in them and Rosie was quite shocked to find out just how much Petunia appreciated magic when she was included. 

Rosie wasn't sure how Vernon felt about his wife taking such an interest in magic, but Petunia was nearly over the moon so Rosie didn't much care.

Rosie had been sitting in her compartment, which had been otherwise empty, for about ten minutes before the door was flung open and a boy tumbled in. He was tall, that much was obvious as he laid sprawled on the floor of the train. He must have been at least five years older than Rosie, because of the stubble growing on his face. He also looked exhausted.

The boy's eyes stayed closed for a few seconds, and Rosie was about to question whether the boy was asleep or not. Then his eyes snapped open and Rosie jumped back. Her movement drew his attention and blue eyes locked with her green ones. They kept their eye contact until the train went over a bump in the tracks, Rosie thought that they should be able to fix that with magic at their disposal, and the boy rolled onto his side, groaning in pain.

The boy hadn't changed into his robes, no one had really, and the back of his white dress shirt was spotted with red. With blood.

Rosie cautiously moved a bit closer to him.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, craning her neck to get a better look at the quickly spreading bloodstain. The boy didn't say anything, he didn't really have to, but he shook his head all the same. Rosie stood up on her seat and reached for the bag she had put on the rack there.

The boy groaned again and rolled to look at her.

"What are you doing?" he croaked, watching as she got what she wanted out of the bag, and then carefully approached him. Like he was a wounded animal she wanted to help but didn't want to get bitten by.

Rosie didn't answer him right away, she just moved so that she was sitting with a view of his back and the blood. Carefully, she ran her finger down the center of his back and the shirt he was wearing peeled away on both sides of her gentle touch.

The boy nearly gasped.

"You can do wandless magic?" He croaked, turning his neck so that he could again look at the girl. She met his blue eyes gaze for just a moment before she shrugged and began to pull the shirt away from whatever wound was on his back.

Once she got to see the wounds and realized how bad they were, she went back to get her bag and pulled out a needle and thread.

"Your wounds are quite bad. If you want them to heal properly I will have to sew them closed."

The boy had heard about such things, one of his slytherin friends had mentioned that was how muggles kept their wounds closed while they healed. The girl's knowledge marked her blood status. She was a muggleborn. A mudblood. She was also clearly a first year and probably didn't know any healing spells or have any potions in that bag of hers. The boy didn't want to go see Madame Pomfrey if he could avoid it. So he just nodded.

Rosie got to work right away, and the boy found himself musing. He should be disturbed by the girl's blood status. He had a mudblood running her hands all over his back after all. But instead, the boy found himself most disturbed by the fact that the girl didn't seem to care that she was sewing him closed. He wasn't a dress that had gotten a rip. He was a human being and she was completely uncaring about that. She didn't even seem worried that her needle was hurting him. She was quick, she was efficient, and then she was done.

And the entire process had the boy very unnerved. What unnerved him more was how the girl moved away from him, wiping her hands on the remains of his tattered and stained shirt and sat back in her seat. As the boy sat up, the girl said nothing to him. Like she had already forgotten he was there as she looked out the window at the European countryside.

The boy kept his face on the girl for a bit longer, before he flexed his shoulder and winced. From what he could feel the girl had done a thorough job, stitching and bandaging his back. He no longer felt the flaps of skin hanging. Which was encouraging.

After a moment when she still continued to steadfastly ignore him, he decided to speak.

"You're a mudblood then," he said, going straight for the jugular. The boy expected the girl to flinch at the foul name, a word someone generally wouldn't say in polite company. Instead, a small smile flitted across her lips and she glanced at him. Fleetingly.

"I suppose I am," she said softly, turning her attention back out the window. The boy felt his shoulders tense at her completely unconcerned attitude. "And you're a pureblood."

The boy was again shocked, and his face showed it. Rosie grinned. Fleetingly.

She liked that she surprised him.

The boy sat forward and his eyes scanned her face again, this time taking in the most minor details. Like the light dusting of freckles on her cheeks, the blue in her green eyes, and the blonde in her black eyelashes. For a mudblood, she was at least pretty.

"My name is Regulus Black," the boy extended his hand and finally, finally, she looked interested. Her eyes scanned over his face, then what remained of his shirt. In the folds, where it had almost fallen off of his right shoulder, there was the Black family crest sewn into his breast pocket.

"Hello, Regulus," Rosie greeted him. Regulus wasn't sure what the little grin on her lips meant, but he didn't think he would like it if he knew.

Regulus waited a moment for her to introduce herself, but she didn't. Finally, Regulus growled.

"What is your name?" He demanded and Rosie's little grin grew much bigger. She was mocking him and Regulus hated it.

"Rosie."

Regulus's fists clenched at his side. 

"Rosie what."

"Evans."

Then there was silence.